a.rose

I was supposed to go to yoga this morning.  I was dressed, I was ready.  Hazel was dressed, Hazel was ready.  We filled up our water bottles, we grabbed her applesauce (and a spoon: bonus!) and then I was grabbing Hallie's violin (that she forgot: surprise!) to drop off at school on the way and suddenly Hazel was sobbing. Big fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, and I didn't know why.   Sobbing, shoulders heaving, sadness in every sound and movement she was making.  Finally, she took a deep breath and managed to tell me, "I just, I just want you, Mommy." At first I tried to reason.  I tried to encourage.  I tried to bribe. And then, with her little hand in mine, we took Hallie's violin and came back home and I asked Hazel what she wanted to do today, with me.  "Ride my bike around the block" was her excited reply, which made my heart hurt because it was something I had promised to do with her on Friday after finishing the laundry.  ...

Two of my four daughters are wrestling.  It is fine at first, giggling and silly.  They are enjoying themselves.  Then it seems to get more violent and one sister doesn't want to wrestle anymore.  She wants to go ask mom if she can have a cookie.  "No," she says.  "Enough," and "Stop!" She should be allowed to say those words no matter how consensual the activity seemed when they started.  AND they should still mean something because she hasn't already said them 5 times, giggling to show she really meant, "this is great!" But even if she had done that, those words should still, should ALWAYS mean enough for her sister to stop, and say, "hey, should we see if mom will let us have cookies, or should we keep wrestling?" Then the sister can answer, "Cookie!" or, "Keep wrestling, but not so rough.  You were hurting me." I think it should be easy to extrapolate that to an adult situation, although I li...

If you missed Part 1 , go ahead and read it first if you want.  Otherwise, carry on. Our flight had landed sometime in the early hours of the morning, and then we got back to Sudirman Park, the apartment complex area where we would be staying, around 3 am.  A few hours of sleep, and we were awakened by the sounds of the morning call to prayer.  It was lovely, and I sincerely hope that someday I am lucky enough to get to go back and experience it all again. We went out on the balcony of our apartment to listen to the voices floating over the city. Our apartment was on the 42 floor, and within hearing distance there were (I think?) 5 mosques blending and almost harmonizing in ways that were mesmerizing. We went back to bed for another hour or two, and then running on four hours of sleep (in a bed) and ready to take on this new world we found ourselves in, we got up and ready for anything. That morning we went to breakfast at a restaurant inside Citiwalk mall...

A few days before my birthday, my sister and I got on a plane to fly to Indonesia.  Our oldest brother, Peter, was going to get married to Alia.  Michelle, my sister, and I were so very, very excited.  Nervous.  Possibly a bit trepidatious.  (That's a real word.) Of course we were also sad to leave behind our little families:  Saying goodbye to my people in the hotel room (so I can fly off to see my other people on the other side of the world).  I love those faces so very much. My family ate dinner with me in the hotel room.  Then I hugged them all and said goodbye, walked them down to the car and told myself over and over that they would be fine, and I would be fine, and I would see them again in a week.  After they left, I had a couple blissful hours all to myself before my sister would show up and the journey would truly, truly, truly begin.  What did I do when I found myself alone in a hotel room for the first and only...