Life is Fleeting

On yard duty Wednesday morning a couple of students found a baby bird that had apparently fallen out of a tree. A extremely enormous, very, very, tall tree. Because it couldn't fly and wasn't moving much we naturally assumed that it was injured. (How could it not be after falling from that type of height?) The kids worked together to fetch a box and shred some newspapers to keep it comfy and warm and we tucked it up in a corner of the classroom for safekeeping until I could make some phone calls and decide on the best course of action. In retrospect it was one of those situations where the end outcome would likely be the same, just the means of getting there would be different. In the end I brought it to Mehran's dad who was veterinarian back in Iran, thinking that if he was unfamiliar with this type of bird then I would take it to the RSPCA (none of the students could bear the thought of placing it back by the tree and letting nature take it's course, not that I could blame them, but I did seriously consider that, if only for the mother bird's sake.)

The children, my own children, were delighted as soon as they realized that there was a real, honest-to-goodness-live baby bird in need of love and refreshments. Anisa and Ruhi organized an old medicine dropper and little glass of water, and Mehran's dad sorted out some likely things for it to eat, which amazingly it did. Bayan was on hand, in fact he offered two hands, for cuddles and loving squeezes. Not sure that was overly helpful, but it was well intended. For the next 36 hours the little guy thrived, was flapping and chirping and happy, we had plans to return him to the humongous tree in a few days when he was able to really fly. However, it was not meant to be, we came back from taking Mehran's dad to the doctor this morning to find that his legs were stiff and immobile, his eyes were closed and only occasionally would he emit a feeble chirp or sound. Even as I type this, his little life is ebbing away and I am filled with sadness. The children have taken it very stoically, especially Anisa, who has already decided on the floral arrangements for his funeral. It makes you stop and think how fleeting and precious and fragile life is. I hope his mother knows that we did all we could.

Another One Bites the Dust...

The children have, for the most, part rallied against the flu and are getting back to 'normal', except for Bayan who has developed another runny nose and is not eating again. He probably caught it from me, who caught it from them, in one of those diabolically inconvenient twists that life throws your way. The party is postponed for another two weeks, as I am highly contagious and thoroughly under prepared.

PS. The vacuum has still not moved. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe...

Five!

Still looking pale, but beginning to show signs of the spunky fire she's famous for, Anisa insisted on standing on the chair for her birthday photo. Which is just classic Anisa, always wanting to do things her own way, in her own time, ever ready to push the bounds of parental authority (that I could do without - I'll tell you what). Easy to anger, lash out or cry and yet quick to stand up for what is right when confronted with injustice.

Deeply affectionate and funny, she loves to paint and draw, delights in mermaids and princesses and adores toilet humor, flower fairies, play dates and all things chocolate. A beautiful dancer, she is graceful, vivacious, friendly and energetic. She loves being around others and is exceptionally social and articulate, often surprising us with unusual words or quirky expressions that are hilariously uncommon and yet perfectly suited to the occasion.

She is at a stage where she is trying to make sense of her place in the world and is struggling for independence while also holding fast to all that is familiar.

She has experienced much in her five years, far more than many children her age; she has demonstrated profound trust and forgiveness in our decisions on her behalf, has displayed such incredible bravery and resilience that the mere thought of still moves me to tears, and has developed an empathy and compassion that cannot be taught, but must be learned through experience.

Through her example I have learned powerful lessons in courage and faith and I am honored and humbled to be her mum. Happy Birthday Anisa Joon. We love you forever.

Happy Birthday Anisa!

Last night after dinner we had mini apple cakes (sugar and dairy free as people are still a bit coughy here) dusted with cinnamon and decorated with candles. These are Mehran's favourite cakes at the moment (because they are somewhat diabetic friendly, and he is watching his diet) and Anisa was just delighted to have cake after two weeks of soup and all things health enhancing. Sadly they were slightly darker than they should have been, as can smell nothing and didn't realize that they were burning, but nobody seemed to mind. There was much singing of Happy Birthday and much relighting of candles as Bayan enthusiastically blew any flame he could find, regardless of whose candle it was attached to.

This morning there was a special birthday breakfast featuring: hard boiled eggs; organic blueberry muffins; Great Grandma Dolly's fine china; rosey tea; fairy floss scented, soy candles; a new dress; a homemade scarf and fresh flowers from Grandma's garden.

Happy Birthday Sweet Anisa. We love you!

Time Warp

Yesterday was one of those days when the hands of time spin on their merry way, nothing unusual, nothing changed, just ticking away as they have always done except that for a good portion of the day (in our family, at least) it is two important and separate dates simultaneously. While Grammy celebrates her birthday on the 18th in America, Anisa is celebrating her birthday here, on the 19th and yet it is the same time. Mehran's birthday was on Sunday and due to the delightful flu, which I appear to have caught a touch of, we have not properly celebrated any of them.

Ruhi is such a sweet girl and loves to spend time with family. She was so excited when it was Mehran's birthday and woke up early to make him a hand crafted card. She wanted to stay home on Grammy's birthday as well as for Anisa's, but was shuffled off to school, poor dear. Since reading a passage in Chicken Soup for the Soul, years ago I have been putting little napkin notes into her lunch box every day, little messages to let her know that I am thinking of her, proud of her and what a special person she is. There is always a little drawing or doodle on the napkin and sometimes a sticker or a special treat. She was so disappointed about having to go to school on Anisa's birthday (despite the fact that we were just staying home, huddled around the humidifier with a big box of tissues) that I wanted to do something special for her, something simple, practical and small that would remind her of how much she is loved. I cut her sandwich into the shape of a nine pointed star (with much help from a cookie cutter -thanks Mom) and wrapped it in waxed lunch paper that I had decorated with stars, fused together with an iron and tied with ribbon. I included a little gift tag, telling her that she's a star and that we love her...which she loved. Although she didn't want to go to school again today. I will have to come up with some more interesting ideas...

Achooooo!!!

Anisa came down with a virus about two weeks ago and recovered just in time to catch the flu which Mehran was thoughtful enough to inadvertently introduce to the household. The past week has passed in a flurry of cuddles with sick children (Ruhi and Bayan dropped like flies too and quickly succumbed to fevers, chills and coughing fits.) sleepless nights / mornings, endless cups of tea, requests for snacks, pots of soup, boxes of tissue, eucalyptus oil and humidifiers. The house is in chaos, the floor is unspeakable, the fish water now has a green tinge and Anisa's party is scheduled for this Saturday. Naturally. I dare say that it will be a last minute rush to get things organized and completed, but at least people are beginning to feel better. I was starting to worry that we might need to postpone things, but Ruhi is back at school today. Mehran is off to work. Anisa is much improved, and I think that Bayan is finally on the mend. Hooray!

Oh, and here is a shot of the living room floor strewn with wooden train tracks, discarded pyjamas, and a vacuum cleaner that has remained in that very spot for at least five days now, just waiting for some action...perhaps this afternoon.

Winter...at last.

It is the last 'official' month of winter and it only just beginning to feel as though it has really set in. We have had almost constant rain for the last two weeks. The land is soggy and green, the sky is grey and ripe with the promise of more rain to come, the temperature is constantly cold and anyone venturing outdoors is keenly aware of the freezing wind chill factors. We have had plenty of hail, which the children have taken great delight in.

It feels so good to be tucked up inside, eating soups and drinking tea and look:

I have a knitting buddy. Ruhi learned to knit last night and has been working away on a scarf for Bayan. This is the same piece that I started nearly ten years ago, but it fell by the wayside. I had no idea what I was making at the time, probably just practicing. Ruhi, however, has grand visions for the piece. I am glad that one of us does and that it is finally being finished and put to good use. Maybe it will even be done in time for America.

Quarantined

Anisa caught a virus, compliments of kindy, which has progressed into tonsillitis with a raging side of conjunctivitis. (The above shot was of Ruhi who tucked Anisa into the children's sofa, got her water, arranged her blankets and sang her songs until she fell asleep. She is such a brilliant sister.) Needless to say I have not been to work this week and we have barely left the house. We are keeping busy at home and have been enjoying making party invitations, intergalactic space landscapes with crafty chalks and cotton balls and lots and lots of crayon relief drawings.

This year for Anisa's birthday we are organizing a fairy party. The fairies who attend will be helping Fairy Anisa collect food for a food bank. We wrote a little story to set the scene and included it as part of the invitation. So far that's all we've done. We are still trying to plan party games and activities as well as the menu. But more on that later. For now we are hunkering down, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in, enjoying the rain (from the cozy warmth of indoors) where a big pot of soup is bubbling away, knitting scarves for America and watching the much loved tale of Balto. Hope you are all enjoying your weekend too.

Thanks Mom! We Love You Forever

We recieved the package with much joy and enthusiasm. Bayan just fits the shirt. Anisa was super excited that there was another copy of one of her all-time favourite stories. The "I Love You Forever" song has infiltrated our bedtime routines. Bayan also lapses into song everytime he sees the book. "I yuv you eva... I yike you ah-ways... as yong as yiving... baby you be." It's so darling.

I have stashed the Baha'i necklace centerpiece away for the moment. Ruhi or Anisa will be able to make something wonderful to wear with it when they are a little bit older... a day that is coming all too soon. They are growing up far too fast.

Be Grateful

When your four-year -old uses a permanent blue sharpie to secretly decorate her sister's sheets and then attempts to sign someone else's name in an effort to cover up her dastardly deed. Be grateful for the memory that you will one day be able to look back upon and laugh about. (Albeit not today.)

When your two- year- old paints the entire underside of your craft table with gooey, vanilla yogurt. Be grateful that he is both industrious and creative. Be grateful that the table is glass and that the unusual medium washes swiftly away.

When you hurriedly try to wrap a plate of cookies with plastic wrap and the box springs apart, unravelling 10 meters of cling film which quickly attaches itself to your person leaving you tangled and tethered in a wild plastic mess. Be grateful for cling film and the convenience it affords, even while you are still muttering under your breath.

When your little one removes his nappy to poo on the floor (not on the toilet - on the floor.) Be grateful that he does not suffer from raging constipation and that you are amply supplied with disinfectants.

When the house is so crazy and crowded that you can never find what you need when you need it. Be grateful for a house and for the people who share it. Every day is a gift, even when you can't find the wrapping paper.

For the children who insist upon stopping every few moments (especially when you are in a frightful hurry) to examine a flower or notice a cat. Be grateful that they share with you all the wonders that you would miss in your frenzied race to be on time. Just for once.

For health. Even though your memory is fading and you now require a specialized team of physical therapists to help hoist you of the floor, when only a year earlier you would have leaped to your feet in no time at all. Be grateful that you and your family are well.

For friends who tell you that you are not doing enough, even though it would take a time alternator or some further fangled clone technology to make it possible to do much more. Remember that you are raising children. Remember that there is no greater deed, no more worthwhile service than this. Remember that these friends mean well and that it doesn't matter what other people see, but rather what God sees that is truly important. He knows what you do and loves you because of and inspite of it. Remember to be grateful. Always.

For Ana

The goodie basket we compiled for Ana. Complete with a box of chocolates, a bottle of bath salts, a batch of cookies, three of our best handcrafted chocolate candles, a gushy card, a prestigious award and a bunch of cupcake pops thrown in for good measure. Anisa and I came across this recipe on the Martha Stewart show... needless to say we simply had to make them. Bayan helped too, especially with product sampling and quality control. Ruhi headed up the decorating department. I was in charge of melting the chocolate, which went fine until I encountered the white chocolate. I was most frustrated and disappointed, because I apparently purchased mutant chocolate "melts". Despite their name they didn't actually melt. They seized up into a massive clump of stodgy, white, goop that wouldn't spread even though it was in a double boiler and was hot enough to burn my fingers. Grrrr. The children claimed they were marvellous nonetheless and Anisa even said :"Don't worry Mum, you're a great baker!" with enough enthusiasm and sincerity that I had to smile inspite of my dysfunctional chocolate induced rage. We hope Ana likes them.

Bayan sure did.