He turned 2



He turned 2 a couple weeks ago now.  He makes me laugh everyday, this morning it was his (kind of) play, intense embrace and stern face when I said I would need to leave for a few hours.  Later I smiled as we released him to walk with his sister a few doors down, to see if her friend was home.  Oh, the freedom and confidence he felt, and how his big sister held his hand.  We stayed in the front yard watching them go.


Having reached the 2 milestone, I see shifts happening in him and me.  He’s surprised himself by saying or extending certain words.  “Lou lou”, our cat, is now “Louie”, as in he points to a scratch on his knee and with a look of concern says “Louie” (though I’m pretty sure Lewis did not scratch him).  When I offered him crackers the other day, he communicated with “ah, ah” and “mm, mm”, a movement of his hand and then out came “bowwl”.  I was delighted as was he, and I could see in his face that he’d just said what he was thinking, and how satisfying it was to communicate what he wanted.


Emerson’s birthday sign. He pointed to it and smiled.

In myself, I’ve noticed little bits of clarity arising and naturally stepping back (a bit).  When both my children reached the age of 1, I experienced such relief that they made it, I made it, we all made it.  2 definitely incurs another level of deep breathing but introspective rather than survival.

We read car and truck books every night.  He points them out in the background of books, in places I don’t notice at first, and he hears them, his ears so attuned to their sounds.  He quickly runs to the window.  Today, he asked me about the “guc” that had been on the street for the last 3 days, the blue truck belonging to the arborist working on our neighbor’s tree.  He did that same face of concern, showing that he missed that truck and why was it gone?

I find myself smiling lately.  I watch him run out the door, right behind his sister, running to meet their Papa at the car.  I see him running with his sister down the sidewalk, his bright, blond hair flying.  I see him jumping, dancing, hitting the table in time to a folky and sweet musical video in which a family plays music altogether, he’s feeling so moved that he’s got to express it anyway he can.

I’m happy he’s 2.

Taking stock



Catching up a bit about the end of 2014.  OVERWHELM.  The long saga of moving house and an intense multitude of events leading up to 2015:  my 40th birthday, Christmas, a 5 year old who truly understood the nuances of the holidays (Santa!), the start of Eric’s new job, the 10 year anniversary of my mother’s death, and the surprising, but not unexpected, passing of my 87 year old spiritual teacher.

Shri Parthasarthi Rajagopalachari passed away on December 20, 2014.  He became my mentor in 2000, during my first trip to India, when I went in search of a living Master.  He has been a constant source of inspiration, guidance, and love for me all these years.  I’ve traveled to India many times to be in his presence, as well as to other parts of the world and within the US.  He is and will continue to be greatly missed.


August 2013 – Mannapakkam, India

I almost have nothing to say after that.  The above photo brings back such tenderness for me.  The opportunity to have my children be with him, remarkable.  It’s true that once you become a mother, all you want is for your children to do well, be whole, confident, and have the best start in life.  Giving them spirituality as something that can comfort them in times of need, support them in the material aspects of life, oh, all this provides me some reassurance that life may be a little easier for them.

As the end of January quickly approaches, I have yet to really take stock, sit down and envision what possibilities are ahead, soon soon.

Now let’s go unpack one more box, shall we?

Travails of moving gypsies



We’re in the midst of moving and eating chocolate.  So many logistics and with children involved?  It raises the bar to a whole new level.  When I was single I moved a lot, I mean a lot.  Eric used to make fun of me as we drove around, “did you live there, did you live there”.  You’d be surprised how many times I said, “yes”, or “no, but I did live around the corner” (and that goes for places that I worked too.-Dad, hopefully that makes you laugh.) This move from Illinois to Colorado has been a whopper.  We’re also doing all of this around the holidays, again.  Three moves in the past three years.  Hmmm, it kind of blows the wind out of your sails regarding holiday preparations.  The other thing that always puts it right over the top?  My four days before Christmas birthday.  This year I’m turning 40.  It would seem a party is in order.  Eric always jokes that he’s going to get me a really good Combo Gift.  Anyone else born near a holiday knows exactly how awful the phrase Combo Gift truly sounds.  It kind of makes me cringe as I remember my sister and me opening exactly the same Christmas gifts from a neighbor, though mine said “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas”.  Poor me.  As the moving truck arrives tomorrow and I can’t even remember what stuff is coming, I find myself thinking and sometimes saying to Iliana, it’s going to be like Christmas.  Opening boxes (some of which never got opened from the original move three years ago), leaves me feeling a little excited.  It may be that this year is the best Combo Gift of all.


I went to the library to pick up the new book Delancey by Molly Wizenberg.  Reading just a few minutes here and there is a huge stress reliever as MOVING DAY approaches.  It takes me out of my current stress i.e. bickering children, bickering parents, bickering parents with children and into someone else’s life.  As it pertains to Delancey, the stress and joy of opening one’s own restaurant.  It’s lovely and hopeful.  A book about a person’s or two people’s dreams coming to fruition.   I’ve been thinking about the opening quote all day.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.  The mind that is not baffled is not employed.   The impeded stream is the one that sings.

-Wendell Berry

The impeded stream.  Kind of describes being a Mom.  But in a good way.

Happy Moving?  Do people say that?