There is a little boy inside of me who is tumbling and turning! He is poking and punching a bit too. He's still too small for it to feel like anything other than a gentle bump, but today it felt like he was reaching up towards my ribs. It tickled!

I caught a bit of a cold, so I've spent this weekend trying to be still and drink lots of tea and OJ. I found myself missing they days when my mom would pop in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or Mary Poppins, bringing chicken soup, ginger-ale, and cool wet cloths. I missed her cool hand on my forehead and her fingers tucking back my hair behind my ears. My husband stayed right by my side and did a great job taking care of me though!

I wonder if you all are watching the Super Bowl? We will be turning it on momentarily. Yet I feel kinda sleepy......

Hello New York

It was a cold and windy weekend to transport this respectably sized baby bump around the streets of New York City, but it was well worth it. Every year my mom takes me to the city to experience what's good in theater, food, and people watching.



We saw South Pacific in the most intimate theater at Lincoln Center. I used to dance around the house and sing "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair" and "Dites-moi pourquoi...la vie est belle?" when I was ten, so I have fond associations with this musical. As we took our seats Saturday night I was hoping that the production would be an updated, culturally sensitive version, and in my opinion, it was. I tried Ethiopian food for the first time, which was fun. The next day we had brunch at a little French place in Brooklyn, where we met my best friend Rachel from college. All wonderful experiences. What's better, though, than seeing what people are wearing in the Big Apple?

My mom is as sweet as the red velvet cupcake and ginger cookies we picked up at the little bakery before leaving Brooklyn.

Life is a highway! This is how I felt:

heading home, but on to the next adventure.

This is a photo taken by the lovely and talented Nadia (pre-bump, of course!).
I rediscovered this today and keep going back to look at it. I like it, because it is pretty even though my feet are like an oger's. Nadia makes everything special. I'm glad she is my friend.

Living vs. Hiding

This is my grandfather. He died when my father was 11. He became an icon of sorts, and this photo hangs in the home of every aunt, uncle and cousin. We like to believe we inherited his strength, his grace. I spent hours gazing at this photo imagining what it would be like to sit on his knee, wondering whether he would exude the sternness of his generation or the warmth his eyes imply.

Does your family have an icon?

"Sometimes we lose chances and they are gone forever," a friend commented on my last post. As my grandfather never knew he would never know me, I will never know when something will be nevermore until it so becomes. After all, if I'm not mistaken, this is life's key: to do as I would were this my very last day, or your very last day.

Has fear censored your life's story? What would you have done were you not afraid?

My Hatian friend writes, "We are still unable to reach my dad, but we have heard third hand from someone in the area that my family are ok. We have some reason to be positive, but until I speak with my dad and account for every member of my family I will remain a nervous wreck. Seeing those bodies being hauled away with no one to claim them and no identity is heart wrenching. I am told my dad is sleeping out in the open on some street. Haven't heard anything about my nieces, cousins and uncles".

I find myself consumed by the coverage, as if determined to watch until I feel an adequate portion of their sorrow. Maybe I can take it from them, share the weight, through this television screen.

When President Obama made one of his initial statements he said "We will not forget you. We will not forsake you". I feel like the word "again" was meant to have been added after each phrase. For this is a country we had abandoned indeed, neighbors practically in our own backyard.

I ask myself "what would I do without you?" when my waking eyes fall upon my dear one. But he is sound asleep, floating face down in a cloud of pillows and comforters, clothed in fleece, an arm's reach from his glass of water, stomach not quite but almost ready to break-fast, which it shall upon request.

"Indeed, for a country and a people who are no strangers to hardship and suffering, this tragedy seems especially cruel and incomprehensible"
-President Obama regarding the current devestation in Haiti.

I have a friend from college who can't get in touch with his father, mother, or extended family in Port au Prince. He doesn't know if they are alive. He is assuming they must be dead. I cannot even begin to imagine....

http://www.pih.org/home.html

One

As my therapist asked me, once more, when I would finally forgive myself I mumbled "I don't know". But as my blurry eyes glanced down they pulled focus on my wedding ring. "I will never, ever take this off", I remembered having said, many times. I guess that's true: I never did.

When he said, "Do you think this is an ok place to stop?" and I reached into my bag to find my checkbook my fingers found their way to a long piece of red and white packaging string, string that links me, to the sessions, to the person who guided me there.

When I got home and threw my bag on the counter I peered over a pile of books at a Family Medical Leave form and saw written "My wife and I are expecting a baby in May and I want to be there to take care of my family".

When I'm living with intention, with my senses, and with my guard down, I am sometimes shown things and told how they link back to others.