tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78696200463820985542024-03-05T04:08:00.806-05:00Granola Funk MamaGranola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.comBlogger343125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-30585051721021407172023-08-05T22:21:00.000-04:002023-08-05T22:21:14.082-04:00Summer Girl Weekend<p>Yes it's been over two year since I've written. I was thinking tonght about sitting down to write because I'm on a trip with Nala and Tori to visit with mom. Getting to connect with the girls intergenerationally feels very special. It struck me how rare this weekend is, and how it might be the only time we do something like this. We just sang Karaoke songs together and danced, Nala was smiling, and I just felt so happy to have her smiling and wanting to hang out with me. This fall she starts highschool and I'm so worried about her. I remember how crazy highschool was for me, and I just hope she has a healthier experience. I'm glad that we're getting to do a few things together, and mom is showing her and Tori that they are always welcome. </p><p>Relationships with moms is always kind of an ackward thing, right? I have to figure out how to not make it weird with my kids.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Lr4k9QhF3LnqV51mUSwPmDiclEO2wkvJO0z0WT43l3O437-IX7UvuqqhGPPVKbJ_7qoIHYQY01lWS_qR9dcoN5rWNtYXIe9hTRJIKfIHL7KlSRxQGhz71I5LGDp9RYHu-SQHD9qyxRHDSAD8IuiJU-tsEvuMGH1T6uQqK-4hwAksjoDE9aAKmw-TkOs_/s4032/364542416_2239770313077579_3030974180539835517_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Lr4k9QhF3LnqV51mUSwPmDiclEO2wkvJO0z0WT43l3O437-IX7UvuqqhGPPVKbJ_7qoIHYQY01lWS_qR9dcoN5rWNtYXIe9hTRJIKfIHL7KlSRxQGhz71I5LGDp9RYHu-SQHD9qyxRHDSAD8IuiJU-tsEvuMGH1T6uQqK-4hwAksjoDE9aAKmw-TkOs_/s320/364542416_2239770313077579_3030974180539835517_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2s8MwfnR-AgRkN4b54ZnAEzgh2KTVQ5v1Y4gEL5LYbf16-rnzphVZyKPZ6hRQJgzz3S-IhJsj1q27OqYRrpylt8fCm7qGSGkQ9K8uizxIAHg0HNaZZL3VKZ_7cd0fgEAgGZ3YuaFu1owZ2tirFqQiaUUp8eqqiBW7Yfldi9LIg6zPi64sTZsxIaoSVZC3/s4032/364540474_249321567997593_8409714319035677295_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2s8MwfnR-AgRkN4b54ZnAEzgh2KTVQ5v1Y4gEL5LYbf16-rnzphVZyKPZ6hRQJgzz3S-IhJsj1q27OqYRrpylt8fCm7qGSGkQ9K8uizxIAHg0HNaZZL3VKZ_7cd0fgEAgGZ3YuaFu1owZ2tirFqQiaUUp8eqqiBW7Yfldi9LIg6zPi64sTZsxIaoSVZC3/s320/364540474_249321567997593_8409714319035677295_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeQFDi_uwl4RmUNvKTfAP4q-WzrJpdggioWFLtFYo0V9JDUUoHdlEdQQ_MoH_yw1KTmwklZoOWe0wUE4ntWn9Qcc8g4ygExSC6TEySJd2OcBih9ZaM2wPhx_peIbbh0xNzToI15GPjs74c09M7Dl3jlJQb-mK7H4ETObRhqSlAAhSGssLMrd1aZaKmJUK/s4032/364540255_614268314223499_2569398692821158164_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeQFDi_uwl4RmUNvKTfAP4q-WzrJpdggioWFLtFYo0V9JDUUoHdlEdQQ_MoH_yw1KTmwklZoOWe0wUE4ntWn9Qcc8g4ygExSC6TEySJd2OcBih9ZaM2wPhx_peIbbh0xNzToI15GPjs74c09M7Dl3jlJQb-mK7H4ETObRhqSlAAhSGssLMrd1aZaKmJUK/s320/364540255_614268314223499_2569398692821158164_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkxyF77AFYwww_MfmUQXGb6h1D7L8zNqYtGqHdYPpLlMpuOB9CgsGeX3qB9rMpo4L29T7mwxSMBaEejX7lWc_CysWA-qrHM8p3MW2ikDepv1payel6VDEAm1NSndzsua0zHLPZSE4llTYwewOpTvYPXc6_SgOTRz0Ru5CdcQXqefQKOtLJQq4s2MbWpLp/s4032/364538154_6593882164030402_8673581412104839329_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkxyF77AFYwww_MfmUQXGb6h1D7L8zNqYtGqHdYPpLlMpuOB9CgsGeX3qB9rMpo4L29T7mwxSMBaEejX7lWc_CysWA-qrHM8p3MW2ikDepv1payel6VDEAm1NSndzsua0zHLPZSE4llTYwewOpTvYPXc6_SgOTRz0Ru5CdcQXqefQKOtLJQq4s2MbWpLp/s320/364538154_6593882164030402_8673581412104839329_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguomisGGHkxhbXU5rnf0L1d9y1JLCZG-m6Q9WRUJ9_8J8NcloRPsaHXdd_8mS6K9Z37zPOeXve08dRCFQEjSmewZ3_o9ZB10JSfIrIj4JSfyalOmq17ApDO0EwyDvm_wWV5aKMsdExDJo_I_sbFfxokqQxFgCwjeZx8QqtRVtkTqo7KZ_wBpHGXMcqVMTX/s4032/364428547_240719331662326_338689302665766135_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguomisGGHkxhbXU5rnf0L1d9y1JLCZG-m6Q9WRUJ9_8J8NcloRPsaHXdd_8mS6K9Z37zPOeXve08dRCFQEjSmewZ3_o9ZB10JSfIrIj4JSfyalOmq17ApDO0EwyDvm_wWV5aKMsdExDJo_I_sbFfxokqQxFgCwjeZx8QqtRVtkTqo7KZ_wBpHGXMcqVMTX/s320/364428547_240719331662326_338689302665766135_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-22194868327046965852021-02-06T00:11:00.004-05:002023-08-05T21:49:29.781-04:00I Miss Nala<p>Last year Nala started to change so much. Her personality has pretty much done a 180. I really thought that it was a phase, and would pass with the teen hormones. But this week, I've gotten really worried that it wont, and this is who she is now. Can I be upset about that? I miss Nala so much. I miss the way she smiled with abandon. I miss the way everything she touched became a canvas of color and imagination. I miss her energy that was peaceful yet vibrant. Her kind spirit. Her ability to read situations and connect with people all around her. Her confidence with older people. Her dancing and smiling, and giggling, and being quiet yet content. </p><p>I always felt so unbelievably lucky for having such a perfect kid. I know that I should just be grateful for the moments that we shared and the memories. But can't I also be sad? Am I allowed? Or does it make me a bad parent for wanting my child to be different than they are now? For craving this past reality. I miss her. I miss who she was. I love her so much, but she doesn't seem happy anymore. And to be honest, I might be a little mad at the new Nala for taking old Nala away. But I could never be mad at Nala, so I'm mad at the internet, and phone, and discord, and myself for letting those things into her life.</p><p>I regret not doing more with her. I regret not sitting on her bed and telling her a story every time that she asked for one. I wish I could hold her a lay with her tight in my arms, and will her back.</p><p>But I know that are kids are who they are. And I need to accept that. It's selfish of me to want anything else. I just hope I can be a good mom to Nala, and support her to be happy and healthy.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-slpmEgDgEYNhjnOZezj9b26cO3oX_pbI2XaOE0B9OyKVZH6vzgeoZsk5vcWriAeTPLuVZlkdVA56747tWozychN0oKBem5Z5JJV4YC6OSPfJeXTmBI7Gy55mAh6NpRWCso9YnuUQ7-1/s4032/20201024_172725.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-slpmEgDgEYNhjnOZezj9b26cO3oX_pbI2XaOE0B9OyKVZH6vzgeoZsk5vcWriAeTPLuVZlkdVA56747tWozychN0oKBem5Z5JJV4YC6OSPfJeXTmBI7Gy55mAh6NpRWCso9YnuUQ7-1/s320/20201024_172725.jpg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBtiF_NDhA1G2plfE6o0uyiPcttztet-sXorEwPuaTCLoOB6iHFZ2iDSKxnJP8ApjMuUBxPQ3c9bS4d1_I-Jfc9e5t2yZO6vXjE7oBReMCHkjH3d1ADctPR7DXjCJKiuV0TehHIP3uIGY/s2080/258923095_14_large.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2080" data-original-width="1664" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBtiF_NDhA1G2plfE6o0uyiPcttztet-sXorEwPuaTCLoOB6iHFZ2iDSKxnJP8ApjMuUBxPQ3c9bS4d1_I-Jfc9e5t2yZO6vXjE7oBReMCHkjH3d1ADctPR7DXjCJKiuV0TehHIP3uIGY/s320/258923095_14_large.jpg" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><p></p>Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-41648665272294444532020-11-13T06:47:00.001-05:002020-11-13T06:47:22.846-05:0014 Years<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusf1p_SxjtL7OlLqcdWjEYSdya-LQB3OSBnXmU0InY1Gz3An8DDMt-qIx5coZ-IpE0XPNQTSAJ0Zu2rJfxKdIS6I1z8nMztGIUHHf_xx3zamkUCY6S3A0kzTvuLlMaYAxT62ElqdMe6-A/s1920/20201104004757_IMG_8874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusf1p_SxjtL7OlLqcdWjEYSdya-LQB3OSBnXmU0InY1Gz3An8DDMt-qIx5coZ-IpE0XPNQTSAJ0Zu2rJfxKdIS6I1z8nMztGIUHHf_xx3zamkUCY6S3A0kzTvuLlMaYAxT62ElqdMe6-A/s320/20201104004757_IMG_8874.JPG" /></a></div> Kaio's slept way past his first class every day this week. He sleeps downstairs in the guest room because his bed is still covered in Halloween candy. First class in his virtual school day starts at 7:30am. He needs to just roll out of bed and walk over to the computer to log in. No one uses their cameras anymore. So he could take class half asleep, rolled up in a blanket. But he doesn't wake up. After the third day of this, I decided to take away his ipad, because it's keeping him up all night responding to tiktok followers, or gossiping about the Vegan Teacher. But then even yesterday morning he didn't wake up in time. Maybe his body just needs more sleep. Maybe virtual learning isn't real enough to feel like it matters. It's like the red light tickets that come in the mail, pretty easy to ignore until they eventually stop sending you bills. What, you don't do that?<p></p><p><br />Last night Kaio poured himself a big glass of milk, to try to make himself sleepy. Seeing him in the kitchen, fourteen years old, drinking that glass milk, it brought me back to 3am with him as an infant. I would nurse him in the rocker downstairs, and sing Bob Marley songs to try to get him to fall back asleep. I thought for a second of singing that to him now to help him sleep, but realized it would not go over well. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwp1yYp5QN2hL9kxLl35YRzHLIyU0j2qI981A9V8-6Us91Bmhn9_Zqeb-wYyF_bngAZWtOGZjie4VemiE7pmipV8nYsiIQ6P2l5fQ5aq5FSYUaGSfLIq7mZMUTH1TuKPNe1qEQhnNKUoQ/s4032/20201014_105108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwp1yYp5QN2hL9kxLl35YRzHLIyU0j2qI981A9V8-6Us91Bmhn9_Zqeb-wYyF_bngAZWtOGZjie4VemiE7pmipV8nYsiIQ6P2l5fQ5aq5FSYUaGSfLIq7mZMUTH1TuKPNe1qEQhnNKUoQ/s320/20201014_105108.jpg" /></a></div>But with my memory of the past imposed on the present, I saw both Kaios side by side. Like a baby picture of him right next to a 14 year old picture of him. Or one of those tiktok videos that plays dual screen. Then present me asked past me if this was what I imagined being a parent would be like, if this was the kind of moment that I wished for when I wanted to have kids. Past me didn't need to answer, because of course it is. Moments like that, in the kitchen together, drinking a glass of milk and chatting, those are the moments that make bonds and friendship, and make life worth living. <p></p><p>And then leaning on the frigerator, standing in an awareness that traversed time, I tried to imagine how it would be in the next 14 years, seeing him as an adult talking to me. I envisioned him big and broad like my brother, eyes like Mariano and with that same rambling excitement, talking about whatever it is that his is doing in the future. </p><p>I don't know if it will happen. I don't know if I'll get another 14 years with him. I sure hope so. I know that at 3am in that rocker, 14 years seemed a world away. And here I am, in the same place, still just trying to figure life out, confronting the challenges as they come, and not feeling like all the different a person than I was back then. And then I just felt really lucky to have made it this far, to have Kaio in my life and have gotten to spend 14 years with him. <br /><br /></p>Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-12287429401924597052020-10-15T05:24:00.006-04:002020-10-15T05:24:55.029-04:00Over the Hill<p>I work up at 3 in the morning. I'm not sure why. It was partly the heat from being squished between Tori and Mariano in bed. Tori has her own bed, in our same room, next to our bed. But she still gets up and curls up next to me. And I like holding her, so I don't complain. Except that she kicks me in the middle of the night, and almost always wakes me up. </p><p>I got up to check what time it was, and get some water. But then both the cats must have realized that something was happening, because they came to the back door for me to let them in, and then purred and begged for food. I opened a can of tuna, and now they're face down, huffing it. </p><p>Yesterday was my 40th Birthday. I had hoped to celebrate on a beach, like I celebrated the last two years in Hawaii. So this year my day dream was so go to Goa, visit India, maybe do some yoga. But this year COVID virus grounded us and the whole world. So I didn't really want to do anything to celebrate. I had been stressing over today for months in a weird way. Like, worried that people would make a big deal out of it. Worried that I had to do something special because it was a big number. In the end, it was nothing special. I took the day off of work, my mom called, Mariano's mom called. Mariano made me breakfast and got Sunflower for dinner. The kids needed to be reminded to hug me. Dad dropped off a fancy toilet seat, which is what I told him I wanted. Some people wrote messages on Facebook, or sent me texts. No party, no cake, no singing, no big deal. Just me and the family, the cats, and my own thoughts on life, past, present and future.</p><p>If anything this virus has bought me into my center to find an inner peace. I've started meditating every day, and haven't drank any alcohol or even coffee for over a month. Just on the chocolate. Every day the chocolate. There's been some good that has come out of it COVID. Like we've gotten to spend much more time together as a family, really slow down. No more afterschool activities, no more school even. So I can't complain too much. I'm happy with where we are at, I really am.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZg0oYBRIz6Q-JnBf7xahFiRZSfmRTFeN5-XadLOpaGTu8SVaGlMrb58FCz89EhjFAmbGELb5PqXZakw1TWtJDgdVH9isrXFjRStVxXrvouOuA3kLrtBvxqw8EUio3qdEQ1qqTtxO0mro/s3648/20201014_200730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZg0oYBRIz6Q-JnBf7xahFiRZSfmRTFeN5-XadLOpaGTu8SVaGlMrb58FCz89EhjFAmbGELb5PqXZakw1TWtJDgdVH9isrXFjRStVxXrvouOuA3kLrtBvxqw8EUio3qdEQ1qqTtxO0mro/w640-h480/20201014_200730.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaZhJh4l25sDguI8b1tBTG5qXC8b6PvF4s8wHbMnn2Ocbb2X-NLU6AZ1dCpqn5yNbQiz_gnvC4DGRp0JRXloyMcvHpio-6E5RN5pOVOscQQ5sAj6Rmxvov1aZe280F3IkdSoowxkKSaZM/s2294/20200920_094106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2294" data-original-width="1408" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaZhJh4l25sDguI8b1tBTG5qXC8b6PvF4s8wHbMnn2Ocbb2X-NLU6AZ1dCpqn5yNbQiz_gnvC4DGRp0JRXloyMcvHpio-6E5RN5pOVOscQQ5sAj6Rmxvov1aZe280F3IkdSoowxkKSaZM/w245-h400/20200920_094106.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>My birthday present to myself was a tattoo. I've been wanting a henna shoulder for like 6 years now. But felt paralyzed by not knowing where to go, how to afford it, or exactly what artwork to get. This year, with no where to go for my birthday, it would have to happen. I checked a studio by our house, and found an artist there with a style that seemed like it would fit. Kinda lucky for me she had space on her books because of COVID cancellations, and I was able to get in within a month. <p></p><p>So like everything lately, I had an intention, and it came true. <br /></p><p>The color is a little off from what I wanted. I had wanted a light brown, but I got drawn into the name of this color being "Chocolate Brown." Taught me a lesson about not judging a color by its name. Well if it doesn't fade to brown, I could maybe have her trace over it? Idk.</p><p>My mom flipped out. Which was unexpected. I did not realize that she was so anti-tattoo. But when she saw it, she started crying and saying that she wanted to kill herself. We were at the chocolate factory, and it was so weird. I went to talk to her outside, and she told me that truck drivers get tattoos, and what did she do wrong to have be come out so different from her? She would never think to get a tattoo or do drugs. Why couldn't I be more like Donald Trump's kids? His kids are so perfect. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWYZlDhhH4RMo-WOOFjSSR7n6gt5P8RqlKCkfkSuPNiLxaJ4EhL5tYLKJIOtEb5AfvWJ9B3W7gNpawExz_noerOz9ArXum0AhIqZeoKHvsYL8gZbEh9FjFc7QKmLlmIK4NArfwIJC0N2E/s1180/20201014_192819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1180" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWYZlDhhH4RMo-WOOFjSSR7n6gt5P8RqlKCkfkSuPNiLxaJ4EhL5tYLKJIOtEb5AfvWJ9B3W7gNpawExz_noerOz9ArXum0AhIqZeoKHvsYL8gZbEh9FjFc7QKmLlmIK4NArfwIJC0N2E/s320/20201014_192819.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The next day she said that she was moving to Florida. </p><p>I was not enjoying living in the same house. Because we were working together at the factory too, I just felt like I was being micromanaged all the time about how to run my business and how to parent the kids. But when we would talk of moving, she would tell us not to go. When we would be out of town, she would talk about being scared and lonely in the house at night. So I felt like she needed us. But then it turned out that she had been wanting to move to Florida for a long time now, but thought that we needed her here to help with the kids and business. So seems like the tattoo was a good thing. The tattoo was the conduit for her realizing that she needed something different, and me getting the space that I needed too. So far it seems like she's enjoying it there. Her knees haven't been hurting, and almost everyone she talks to is a Trump supporter. I hope that she doesn't get lonely and enjoys herself.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEzPad9J3W_YjrUwyicoM9SRH8IaNhyphenhyphen6wXa2MamT-iTgiGUzcDr8t4tgMvKoLuSul3YtRTs_Xcl8wc_pVzHhM9dUG2ER6Yfc6FgGZbAHawY9aFcdEjq8PTTAXandqDnSdka5Flywsa3_N/s4608/20201012_104925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEzPad9J3W_YjrUwyicoM9SRH8IaNhyphenhyphen6wXa2MamT-iTgiGUzcDr8t4tgMvKoLuSul3YtRTs_Xcl8wc_pVzHhM9dUG2ER6Yfc6FgGZbAHawY9aFcdEjq8PTTAXandqDnSdka5Flywsa3_N/w640-h360/20201012_104925.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIG5NpYPokN56k63JGfaZKdvdjby1oQ3HrRaKInCrbevW7rzBzHN_DpvzDJUKV-pJc9Ur9qy_xyoCUWnIBsbRQMRPUGezkcG5TBW3_vezNHugzmSCjMsJHz7pupoP4-V-RIk6N9_luMuAp/s4608/20201012_122441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIG5NpYPokN56k63JGfaZKdvdjby1oQ3HrRaKInCrbevW7rzBzHN_DpvzDJUKV-pJc9Ur9qy_xyoCUWnIBsbRQMRPUGezkcG5TBW3_vezNHugzmSCjMsJHz7pupoP4-V-RIk6N9_luMuAp/w640-h360/20201012_122441.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77WcWT_mXr2czF5aIi_VjKjBzfNRKD7YrmPG0h2wrlskYVC3QS5dxD12o_8cl9c6YOLOCXilCLq7mdnmhJLqA_lW03CRUq64dCX_avy5f5tdCrG_Tx4s9VpXQgw1_ZZNhlIYv4JAkGTWi/s4608/20201012_153000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="2592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77WcWT_mXr2czF5aIi_VjKjBzfNRKD7YrmPG0h2wrlskYVC3QS5dxD12o_8cl9c6YOLOCXilCLq7mdnmhJLqA_lW03CRUq64dCX_avy5f5tdCrG_Tx4s9VpXQgw1_ZZNhlIYv4JAkGTWi/s320/20201012_153000.jpg" /></a></div>So that's me, that's this moment. After mom left, I went through a nesting phase. I think it was in prep for my birthday, this feeling of "I'm a grown up, I should live in a house that is nice." So I repainted the walls in the living room and kitchen, and also got some new-to-us furniture off facebook marketplace. I actually prefer used furniture because it doesn't off gas, and I don't have to worry about not scratching it up or keeping it nice. Now that the kids are teens, we needed a bigger sofa. We had a love seat before, and it couldn't even fit 3 of us to watch a movie together. We also could barely fit at the little dinky table to eat meats together. The two pieces that I found, both within 3 miles of our house, are perfect. The new colors make the place look more modern, and depending on the light, they are similar to the colors in our River-Sea logo. I was trying not to make them the same, but then I also love our logo colors, so I'm happy with it.<br /><p></p><p>I almost made the mistake of buying the brown color that had the word "Chocolate" in it. But, having learned the lesson from that problem with my tattoo, I chose a different color that had a warmer shade, and I'm glad that I did. It looks lovely.</p><p></p>Because we have such little square footage, like less than 1400 ft for 5 people, the house was cluttered. I did some major decluttering though, and got a shelf for the kitchen to help store things, instead of in a pile or on the counter, like before. We have these huge 100lb bags of rice and beans (because of the food shortages from COVID), and they have been taking up space on our kitchen floor. But now it's looking much better. I think we may be able to keep the place this tidy.<p></p><p>Well that's it. Gonna try to go back to sleep since I have a lot to do at the Chocolate Factory tomorrow. I think my next intention should be to write more. Catch this blog up a bit, since it's been more than 2 years since my last post and so much had happened. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnBYnclYwmY0MbYz_HleLW2JRZjAnLo7IGvITRStChPExBJkvpamCbEBOJ_5zjvssKAre8-JDj2SmrEKm_t0Z8xrTlvantIsAZWV3bEvbbH4e0E4rRc0scVSyujt5AyGcZCtNuPCKpSX7/s4608/20201015_050214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnBYnclYwmY0MbYz_HleLW2JRZjAnLo7IGvITRStChPExBJkvpamCbEBOJ_5zjvssKAre8-JDj2SmrEKm_t0Z8xrTlvantIsAZWV3bEvbbH4e0E4rRc0scVSyujt5AyGcZCtNuPCKpSX7/w640-h360/20201015_050214.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p>Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-51050400194801703992018-04-01T20:51:00.002-04:002018-04-01T20:51:55.755-04:00Every Day is the Best Day of My Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The days flush out from beginning to end with a sense of urgency, like a dream you've already woken up from, but it's so good that you just keep trying to fall back asleep and carry it on and direct it to a happy closure. I feel like at any moment I could get pulled from this reality. It could be over and I'd be lifted to another dimension. The stoics say that you should always live as if you could die at any moment, you should live for today.<br />
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I am stoic. Or should I say, a lazy stoic. Because I don't do anything profound or dangerous. But I do feel a constant potential for death. And that vector, waiting in the horizon, like an arrow pulled back on a bow, makes me cherish the giggles and smiles so deeply. Through every moment of the day, from silly jokes to enacting discipline, I worry that it could be my last opportunity.<br />
Why so dark? Why so goth?<br />
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This month my uncle passed away unexpectedly. This month Mariano's uncle passed away. This month others in the parameter of our lives have perished; high school friends, professors, in-laws of relatives, people on the news, etc. The impermanence of life echos saliently. So when that baby girl smiles up at me, I slurp up the joy and let the taste linger.<br />
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Through this stoic exercise, of always thinking today could be your last, I have realized that Every Day with My Family is the Best Day of My Life. There is nothing else I would rather do and no other way I would rather spend my time. I am so grateful for their presence.<br />
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-55121195695554344152017-12-11T22:46:00.000-05:002017-12-11T22:46:53.034-05:00The Year We Went Wild<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGjIgjHFclehzvn4lhY0Hx_qNsL5A4ARy32QiluDNn4lHG2ZUxeNPqoJWKMsDGTwfWr03IMKoZULlK5oPR5i5jFbJJWH9ed8p2xXJSFal63iPYentTVzwMaikR83gFlbOc0pjC9iEKVCa/s1600/IMG_5082-Edit-1-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGjIgjHFclehzvn4lhY0Hx_qNsL5A4ARy32QiluDNn4lHG2ZUxeNPqoJWKMsDGTwfWr03IMKoZULlK5oPR5i5jFbJJWH9ed8p2xXJSFal63iPYentTVzwMaikR83gFlbOc0pjC9iEKVCa/s320/IMG_5082-Edit-1-2.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was such a different year for our family that it seemed impossible to send the normal, Happy Holidays card. So I started writing a card, but then realized that I was just incapable of writing something sterile or formal enough to send out as a Christmas greeting. So I’m posting here. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Instead of imposing my journey in the mailbox of my friends and family. I’ll just post here, in my space, any maybe it will help someone have a good year too. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This year Mariano and I have been married for 10 years, which we celebrated with a way-too-short epic trip to Thailand, Cambodia and Dubai. If you haven’t been, Thailand is very easy to get around and friendly. Everyone speaks English and the landscape and temples are captivating. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOix1vPOqoagqOQjXWT1MNIu6iBNuGCTLfu-cCR3EavIJ41WT6xR8l_CgI2lJAVlG0bCMaPpkeaU242QMzxIYL9LukOQWsbn8RZL1f82EjxqgHIexIeFx8yxVZAHLI4lqhzOCxVir0QLYd/s1600/DSC00591-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOix1vPOqoagqOQjXWT1MNIu6iBNuGCTLfu-cCR3EavIJ41WT6xR8l_CgI2lJAVlG0bCMaPpkeaU242QMzxIYL9LukOQWsbn8RZL1f82EjxqgHIexIeFx8yxVZAHLI4lqhzOCxVir0QLYd/s320/DSC00591-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before we left for Thailand, Mariano quit his job. Which sounds kind of crazy right? But the decision was planned and socialized with his office for a long time. After a year of average 12 hour days plus a two hour commute, he was totally burnt out, and so he gave three month notice on the decision to leave. We had saved enough for him to take a break, spend more time with our kids, and take his time finding a position closer to home with reasonable hours. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But then only a week after we returned from our anniversary trip, I was laid off in a massive RIF. At first, I felt like a failure. Kaio worked hard to bring me out of it, excited that I would be able to go to his school events again and be home more. The kids were really supportive actually, they even stopped asking for toys and crap.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mZ7Y8xJb31Lk40LWJ-_4EHFRZG4xXCD6hlU5CgPOB3PKWF0Mu44U2vOwBkVW7F9ygqZVYpFE39JEJ8jqBwPfNy15dgp184MG3cpQD8zkc6KqBg0dT5zNlKW3oBMgJwoyZYZwol5GifvS/s1600/DSC00543-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mZ7Y8xJb31Lk40LWJ-_4EHFRZG4xXCD6hlU5CgPOB3PKWF0Mu44U2vOwBkVW7F9ygqZVYpFE39JEJ8jqBwPfNy15dgp184MG3cpQD8zkc6KqBg0dT5zNlKW3oBMgJwoyZYZwol5GifvS/s320/DSC00543-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was scary but instead of jumping into a job search, we took a look at our savings, and planned how to make funds stretch out long enough to spend the summer in Brazil. We wanted the kids to make lasting memories with family there. Because of the cost to fly all five of us there, I hadn’t been in five years. Tori had never been. We ended up taking Kaio and Nalini out of school two weeks early so we could leave as soon as possible. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WNx4AT3dddmS9fYdkRCHTYsNwAqPiP8G2suwruLdnT8mc7UZt04_h5gQe3SojJ-QuQzH_vvTa8lXtnA84RDRA8L6uBaAdff98WRu5SHzqZKzOueEZei1-f2T9Uf2-por3QHzvd_T1rtU/s1600/DSC04485-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WNx4AT3dddmS9fYdkRCHTYsNwAqPiP8G2suwruLdnT8mc7UZt04_h5gQe3SojJ-QuQzH_vvTa8lXtnA84RDRA8L6uBaAdff98WRu5SHzqZKzOueEZei1-f2T9Uf2-por3QHzvd_T1rtU/s320/DSC04485-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of Mariano’s family and friends live in a big city named Belem, about 1 degrees south of the equator. The weather averages 99 degrees day and night, rooms are full of </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">mosquitoes</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and the streets are full of robbers. For two months, we slept all five of us in one room with three beds, sometimes even on top of each other. So you can imagine that’s a hardship from the A/C bug-free and kushy life our kids are used to living. There was a lot of complaining. But what really mattered in the long run was the time we spent with our wonderful family. Mariano’s parents, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, second cousins, etc. He has a big family. And everyone is so fun and generous, excited and unconditionally loving with the kids. We were able to really slow down and spend quality time visiting with his extended family, as well as travel around the region from jungle to farm to beach and back.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Taking the sabbatical really gave me time to think about the trajectory of my life, our life together, and the future of the kids. We brainstormed a lot about how to maintain the joy that we had solidified and not get sucked back into old negative habits that are completely draining. It felt like we hit the reset button on life and had a chance to start again. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since then I've been dividing my time between caring for the kids, </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">cannabis</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> plants, and making chocolate. Soon I'll be teaching yoga again back at one of the studio's that I used to teach at. Mariano has been taking occasion </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">consulting</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> work. We are pretty broke right now, but over-all happier and in a better place than last year. I have a lot of hope and faith that our chocolate business will be a success. And by success I mean yielding enough revenue that we can pay a nice living wage and support our kiddos. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wishing you a quiet and </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">peaceful</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> passage of the holidays. Hugs and kisses,</span></span></span></div>
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-50773098004887004782017-09-15T01:11:00.000-04:002017-09-15T01:11:00.872-04:00#Farm Life<br />
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Picking the yellow leaves off the cannabis plants, I have a lot of time to think. Lots of times I think about revenge to my past corporate job employer. I think about taking a selfie with my Bugatti, printing it out, and leaving it with a Post-It note that says "Shove it, I found something better to do" on the desk of the demented Bolivian deputy program manager with round-tipped red nails and who fired me with a smile behind her over-lipsticked face.<div>
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Then I quickly think about how those thoughts are not very Yogini-like. I check myself. For a minute, enjoying the sun and the Cold Play streaming out of my back pocket. Then I go back to daydreaming about rubbing my awesome life in her face. Wait, back to yoga thoughts. It's a nice little cycle really.</div>
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I think about my kids and Mariano. I fret over whether Oregon is the right place for us or Washington DC. I weigh the options as I talk baby talk to the plants, "Doesn't that feel good girlfriend? Doesn't that feel so much lighter?"</div>
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It's rather nice actually. If I consider this my job, it's a nice job to have.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBw5nL6PHOeiCUXfq2DFPvuhjCx4S_rlPdH6_qSHDNh95QY97eKngpOpSSpPA7Him3Fbzn3m4Edt6cuqTdCNuwkdeNimFfSSXRCLK9urk9LZUWjrrljpmR88zCEhKt3eWDD2wI3ZDhFsY/s1600/21739986_10159206855240262_8179459869295595954_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBw5nL6PHOeiCUXfq2DFPvuhjCx4S_rlPdH6_qSHDNh95QY97eKngpOpSSpPA7Him3Fbzn3m4Edt6cuqTdCNuwkdeNimFfSSXRCLK9urk9LZUWjrrljpmR88zCEhKt3eWDD2wI3ZDhFsY/s320/21739986_10159206855240262_8179459869295595954_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>Today was the first day where I felt like this could be my job. I felt like I could spend my mornings tending the garden, enjoying a long lunch break during the hottest hours of the day and finishing the tasks in the late afternoon breeze. I get to Macgyver and ghetto rig contraptions around the farm. I get to possibly make big sums of money if we run a smart business. It seems so much better than the boring document reviews and death by meetings work I did in the IT world. </div>
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My back doesn't hurt, I get to be outside, my own boss and make my own hours. Actually I think I would love it if only I had the kids with me. But that's the problem: the kids are in DC and this work is in Oregon. And we have such amazing family and neighbors in DC that I don't want to make the kids leave.</div>
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So I'm stumped on what to do. </div>
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-56872724381542498002017-07-10T21:40:00.000-04:002017-07-11T08:56:53.995-04:00The Amazon River - What Does Home Mean? - Brazil DiaryWatching as we pass the boarded up wooden homes, the loud chug of the engine and sweet warm earthy breeze maintain their presence for hours and hours. This is my third time taking this boat trip up the Amazon between Santarem and Manaus. The last time was 12 years ago, back when a second generation iPod was a great Christmas gift, and W was president. It seems like so much has transformed since then in the world and in me, but the scenery on the river looks unchanged. <br />
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The lush plants in greens and shades of pink, the elevated homes with colorful soccer team shirts hanging out to dry, the dug out canoes and occasional cattle pasture, the horses sipping river water with ibis perched on their backs. </div>
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I've been inside some of those houses over a decade ago. Back then they were bare on the inside, mostly just the straight lines of wood panel walls and corners of a box with hammocks hanging inside. The hammocks serve as chairs, sofas, and beds. The kitchen is in the back and has the most furniture, maybe a table for cooking and eating, or maybe not and the eating is done on the floor. </div>
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Mariano and I start to joke about building a house here, property rights, and how people would come visit us, "You go up river about 3 hours and then make a left at the big Brazil nut tree. The house with the blue door." How do people get mail? How do kids go to school? The School Boat must pick them up in the morning. <br />
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As we approach within 3 hours of Manaus, power lines begin to run above the river bank. The houses remain simple looking on the outside, but I fantasize about the inhabitants having 25" LCD screens and Xboxs inside their homes. After all, even poor people in the US have iPhones and SUVs.</div>
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In the Southern Hemisphere, July corresponds with the water level swell and some houses are boarded up because their pastures are inundated. I imagine they are rustic summer homes for people who have moved to the city.</div>
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Passing by I find my thoughts drifting and I start to long for a home. Ironic because literally the day before I'd stated to Mariano how comfortable I was with living out of a suitcase. In 2017 already we've visited Thailand, Cambodia, Dubai, Suriname and Brazil. I drove across the country from DC to Oregon and DC to Florida. My love for traveling is not a daydream over morning coffee; it's here, it's actualized. I can have everything in my possession neatly packed up in a suitcase and a backpack in 20 minutes or less. </div>
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Seeing the little homes speckled on the river bank pass by with a melodic rhythm, like cords of lullaby, I think about what 'home' means. Mariano's parent's home is a forever home. It's protected in a gated villa of about 35 houses set in a busy part of town that used to be sketchy but in the last 15 years has turned hip. Since I've known him in 2002, the entrance was always lined by gossiping woman sitting in patio chairs, he says they've been there for at lease 20 years. </div>
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Mariano's parents have made modifications to their home many times, like changing the layout, adding rooms, taking away rooms, dividing into a rent-able one bedroom home. Currently Mariano's sister is running a cake business out of the front of the home. So the house morphs and serves for all stages of life.</div>
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The kitchen table is the spot. The meals filled with smiles and laughter congeal the meaning of home.</div>
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After the sleepy morning we landed and had breakfast with Mariano's sisters around the table, he commented to me that the experience was priceless. Worth the thousands for plane tickets, overnight with three kids on four flights, two trips through security, and a feisty 2 year old pulling an all nigher. It was rough, but it was worth it.<br />
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I want to give a place like that to my kids. I want them to have a sanctuary base that they can return to at any point and feel welcome, safe, and protected. I'd like to create a space the kids can create happy memories in and return to for years to come.</div>
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But I realize I'm far off from settling. In my mid thirties and I have no idea my life purpose. I know it's weird that we actually live in the house I lived in from 2yr - 11 yrs old. My home should be that home, but it doesn't feel like it to me. Maybe it will be but I'm not ready to accept it yet. Maybe I have more to do and grow first, I don't know. </div>
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So I'm still searching for the place to plant my family. I worry I'll never grow up enough to get there, and their home will be decided by default. Because life does not stop until you're ready to make a decision. It keeps going and everyday is your opportunity to be intentional with your actions.</div>
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Down the rabbit hole of thoughts of home and I remember a book that was gifted to the kids called Casa. It had really cool pen illustrations of all different types of people and animals in their homes. With words like, "Some homes are sweet, some homes are on your back, some homes are loud, some homes are where you rest your head, some homes are in dreams." Like everything in life, there is no perfect right answer. People find satisfaction doing things in different ways. </div>
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I wonder what does home mean to you? What do you seek in a home? <br />
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-69183626521986194322016-07-10T23:00:00.001-04:002017-05-11T19:54:17.615-04:00Awesome and Beautiful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Usually I talk about things in my yoga classes that I need to hear. Today I said, "Know that you are awesome and beautiful... Know that you are awesome and beautiful in your own unique way." And even though I believe it, it was so hard to say the words out loud because I've had the kind of week where I beat myself up too much. Here's to being awesome and beautiful. </span></div>
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-74849041437334917172015-11-24T21:58:00.000-05:002017-05-11T20:03:19.101-04:00The Tiny Little MomentsYesterday was a special day. <br />
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Nothing happened. <br />
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Mondays are the only day of the week I do not teach yoga and so it's a very low key day. The older kids went to school, I stayed home with Tori and Mari's mom who is living with us now. Nothing extraordinary or worth bragging about happened. But in that absence of the big, I noticed the small. And the small is amazing. The tiny little moments.<br />
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Like when we slipped on Tori's shoes to go outside, and she started tapping on the floor with the soles. The hard rubber on laminate drummed as she stomped. I started stomping in my shoes too. It was fun because that sound, in that second, was all we needed to smile.<br />
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Every day is new with her. Like yesterday she was going to breast feed her baby. As I fixed dinner she brought a plush baby doll over and handed him to me. I hugged and kissed him then folded his stuffed hand shut with my fingers, "Milk, Milk," I said, pretending like the baby was making the sign for milk. She looked at me and then looked at the baby, smiled and reached for the bottom of her shirt. She tugged on it with her fatty little fingers, started to pull it up, exposing her chunky baby belly. She grabbed the baby out of my hands and hugged him. She was going to nurse her baby doll.<br />
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Today Nala's teacher sent a note home saying that she caught her looking up one of the words during a spelling test. I really like how Mari and I handled it, and I know that our stint homeschooling inspired our approach. We didn't tell her that she was in trouble or order her never to cheat again or even tell her that she did anything wrong. First I asked her if she thought it was wrong. She said, "Well not really because it was just one letter that I didn't know from one word."<br />
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I told her that looking things up is a great thing to do if you do not know the answer. We talked about the different resources: dictionaries, google, spell check, etc. And then we talked about how what the school is doing is helping you to remember things without having to look them up, and the tests are really tools for her to use to help her understand areas that she is having trouble remembering. The purpose of the test is to help her know what she remembers. So there is no point in looking up for the test. We told her that she'll never get in trouble for wrong answers and she shouldn't worry about how she does on the test. <br />
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We've gotten beyond tight with our finances lately. Tighter than ever before. At first it was scary, stressful and saddening to not buy things that I have been used to buying. But now I notice that by not looking to external goods for enjoyment, it feels like we are looking and working together more internal. And I'm grateful for that. Grateful for this reminder of what it feels like to be simple.<br />
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Tori asked for me to turn on the music by pointing at the speaker and cooing. Nala picked the songs and we danced in the kitchen while dinner cooked. After 7pm I demand all the electronics are turned off and the kids start chasing each other around the house. It's like a train, first Kaio runs by pulling Nala on a ride on, Tori toddles as fast as she can after them and Vovo follows, spotting Tori. They round the kitchen island. Each time the house shakes like an actual train and there are so many giggles. I look at Mari and smile.<br />
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Smile because they are loud and silly and rambunctious and I love it. Smile because we somehow created this.<br />
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This is a stage in life where I notice that I'm contemplating life and existence on a daily basis. I know it's normal at this age to wonder if I'm living fully enough or if I'm on the right track. Yesterday I got to listen to Mari's mom for hours telling stories of her family history back in Brazil. They all grew up on a river island at the mouth of the Amazon. I worked out that there are a couple things that seem like they have been important through the generations: being fed and being educated. Food for the body and the brain, simple as that, seems to be the recipe for a happy heart and full life. <br />
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Seeing Kaio all grown up in comparison to Tori is such a trip. I look at her and remember him, his cute little actions that were mischievous but well intentioned. Her drive and bravery matches his. I just pray that I can be the mom that he deserves and support his spirit in a way that helps him to thrive. Unfortunately I think he was practice parenting, where I learned how to be the mom I really want to be by making mistakes in the beginning. Now I'm trying to make up for all the yelling I used to do.<br />
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He doesn't like to let me take pictures of him but I just have to, he's so beautiful.Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-29337156872200208532015-11-16T10:41:00.000-05:002015-11-16T10:41:37.845-05:00 Catching UpI've never gone this long without posting before but the last few months have been even busier than usual as I was working on a proposal for a new business. Happy that I turned it in last Friday and things have slowed down tremendously. My mother in law is living with us, which is wonderful. My kids are so lucky to not only have one grandmother in the house, but two. They get so much love.<br />
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We celebrated Kaio's 9th birthday last weekend. The difference between this year and last year is beyond striking. He is so much happier now. If you've been reading my posts over the years, then you know that I've struggled so much in figuring out the right approach for him. He started off in Kindergarten and once the academics kicked in, begged not to go every day, then I homeschooled him for a year in a half, and then put him back in school mid year last year. <br />
Seeing him run around with his friends, friends fighting over who gets to sit next to him, it is wonderful. Last year this time he was lonely, afraid of people, and threatening to hurt himself everyday. <br />
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He is so much happier now and rarely blows up with anger. Academically, I wouldn't say that he's farther along than when we were homeschooling. But I'm not worried about it because he's happy, and that is all that matters to me. <br />
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I have a tremendous backlog of photos of the kids and baby Tori. Here she is with our family dog friend Xbox, and Nala's pet bunny.<br />
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When she sees the bunny, she makes a little clicking noise with her teeth.<br />
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Xbox gets jealous of the baby.<br />
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Nala is thriving at school. I keep getting notes home saying that she talks too much to friends. Seriously, I do not care. As someone who was so socially nervous and awkward in elementary school, I'm happy that she's not like that. Have fun girlfriend. <br />
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Tori is Nala's little babydoll. Even though there is a 6 year gap between them, I feel they will be good friends and sisters.<br />
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Mari raced in a bunch of paddleboard races this year. He now races in the elite league. I love how we merge our vacations with paddleboarding events. I love traveling with a mission. <br />
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This picture is from a few months ago. I do not like to put baby gates on the stairs because it gives a false sense of security. Kaio pushed right through the gate we had when he was a baby. I want her to learn to go up and down them so I do not have to worry about her falling. Tori is walking now, and learning to go up and down the stairs holding on to the railing. <br />
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As much as they fight, they also support. <br />
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Our bed taken over by the munchkins. We moved a twin mattress onto the floor in the room for me and Mari to sleep in.<br />
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These pictures were months ago. What will I do when she's really not a baby anymore?<br />
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Neighborhood friends come over often.<br />
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My little hummingbirds.<br />
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Kaio living in his world. Using legos to craft the cockpit of a tank that runs on gas and crystal power. He drew the controls on paper, and made the levers and engine out of duplos.<br />
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A selfie with my baby from springtime.<br />
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She's so cute.<br />
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-69220712657011670222015-07-29T16:53:00.005-04:002015-07-29T16:54:22.949-04:00Struck by Memories of a Vibrant Life<div dir="ltr">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I moved a coat rack in the foyer and uncovered a framed 5x7 photograph hung on the wall that I snapped about 10 years ago in the Peruvian jungle. It's a picture of sunset over Rio Morona, near where it intersects with the Rio Amazonas. My college friend, Ellen, and I, were sitting on the roof of a small passenger boat filled with leaders of the Ashuar Indian tribe after hitchhiking on tiny fishing boats from Ecuador to Peru.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next to it was another framed 5x7 photo taken in the mountains on the way to Machu Picchu. We woke up at the break of dawn to start hiking. It wasn't raining but a rainbow crossed from one mountain side to another. At the time it seemed like a magical welcome sign, like the entrance gate to Disney World. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You know I've had these photos up for quite some time without thinking much about them - or maybe trying to not think much about them. Today, and in this particular moment, they struck me. The calm blue grey hue of the water seemed the same shade of the walls in massage studios. That color at the hardware store called Tranquil Blue. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And the whole picture seemed washed out in a faded kind of way and I remember that's because the humidity in the air created an undeniable fog. The rain-forest perspires constantly. I remember the next day, before the boat docked in the city of San Lorenzo, there was this torrential downpour of warm rain. It felt just like the derechos we get in Virginia summertime. It felt novel, refreshing and wondrous. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we made it to San Lorenzo we found a little cafe for breakfast serving coffee and rolls with butter. A lady walked in with a baby monkey clinging to her shoulder. It was so cute and she wanted to sell it to me for five Sols. I thought about how cool it would be to carry a little monkey around me for the rest of the trip but what I would do with it after it was time to leave. Could I take it back to the US? Was it stolen from its mom? Ellen talked me out of spending the $2 for the monkey, saying, "You don't know what kind of diseases it might have."</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xeu8R92SMrg/TwJrB76wvSI/AAAAAAAACc8/iyxkd1RLYpo/s1600/Llama%2BPicchu.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xeu8R92SMrg/TwJrB76wvSI/AAAAAAAACc8/iyxkd1RLYpo/s640/Llama%2BPicchu.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Looking at that picture it felt like a lifetime ago but I realized it had only been 10 years. At the time I had the courage or maybe the stupidity to venture off into another country without knowing the language. I traveled to and sought to hitchhike places the Lonely Planet guide didn't know anything about and I talked Ellen into going with me. I thirsted to learn about the world, to extend my horizons, to gain knowledge about different people and cultures, and to understand myself and my place better by seeing how other people lived. It was an exercise in minimalism; I subsisted on as little as possible and spent as little money as possible. One night we slept without a tent, on the sand in the river bank next to turtle tracks, aware that jaguars and alligators roam the jungle. It felt so daring and so special. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I sat there staring at the photos, Tori climbed on my leg. She'd been playing on the floor shaking seed packets for annual flowers I'd never got around to planting. Periodically I fished colored erasures out of her mouth. I picked her up, still facing the photographs. These pictures represented my greatest achievement at the time and now I held my greatest achievement of the next 10 years. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJfknWfdaIKSXK_DrmhyphenhyphenuPloIT4UiU3QA6eNU6ikCSZswQXgvopcs8COtdDetzYGqq4SMt7QSj8UemHVkcj9N5H4tM_QglvuThjFFiqxO-yg7VZsaaLnxGWRNLzVoWObN7nOJvehainT7/s1600/IMG_9942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJfknWfdaIKSXK_DrmhyphenhyphenuPloIT4UiU3QA6eNU6ikCSZswQXgvopcs8COtdDetzYGqq4SMt7QSj8UemHVkcj9N5H4tM_QglvuThjFFiqxO-yg7VZsaaLnxGWRNLzVoWObN7nOJvehainT7/s640/IMG_9942.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These kids are my new horizon and I learn more about psychology, my place in the world, life and the universe, though watching and contemplating them. I could complain of serving them day in and out, but they are the beautiful landscapes I stare at mystified and the doorway to new friendships and experiences. Every day is a grueling trek peppered with glimmers of smiles and giggles. We bushwhack our way into the next segment of life, whatever adventure that may be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so, for once, I didn't stare at the photos and feel untrue to my adventurous spirit for trading the travel bug in for a suburban family life. No, I looked at it and felt the air of the jungle, remembered the heat and the overcooked rice and dry plantains we ate for lunch every day. I connected with the parallel journey I'm on right now. Things are not better or worse now, just different. And these pictures of beautiful places that are special to me are like the pictures I take of my kids. I put them all up around the house to inspire me constantly to continue to live a vibrant life aligned with dharma. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-56473522050322942542015-05-27T10:23:00.002-04:002015-05-27T10:23:52.725-04:00Nala's Sick Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This has been a tough week for Nala-bala, and yet despite all of it, she remains such a ray of light. A little over a week ago I found lice in her hair. My first lice encounter, gross! She had been itching and we received a letter about someone in her class having them. I took a shower with her and washed her hair. Apparently the water makes them dumb and slow, and when I found the first little fucker, errrrrr! I was like, "You bastards get out of my daughter's hair." I don't think Nala has ever heard me curse so much. </div>
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So she missed school one day for that. Then the following day she had a stomach ache and missed school for three more days. We've been trying to get to the bottom of this chronic stomach ache she gets. This stomach ache that always miraculously disappears by the time we make it to the doc. Well this time around we actually got an appointment in while she was still feeling it and have some leads now on what to try and what tests to start with. I also finally convinced her to get blood work done and that was helpful. <br />
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This girl never fell sick for the first five years of her life, and now for the last year she's been getting fevers every 2 months like clockwork. bizarre. I got so worried about her one night that I was up late googling scary things. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zoPaUKvIIwRUQ09Rl3LMpqeLjJMQqlJxRwu4trOuvj2dMuiDaQVKC__SE-RRyZlQYgIXDWlbWO17EJJHnj0b65H0k9QD6Lec8B6RTLQUXHE1Z2jtC4N0Vgh_zi6tp_qif8gwNHuceB_D/s1600/IMG_7792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0zoPaUKvIIwRUQ09Rl3LMpqeLjJMQqlJxRwu4trOuvj2dMuiDaQVKC__SE-RRyZlQYgIXDWlbWO17EJJHnj0b65H0k9QD6Lec8B6RTLQUXHE1Z2jtC4N0Vgh_zi6tp_qif8gwNHuceB_D/s640/IMG_7792.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nala loves high fashion, even on the battlefield</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She writes everyone in the family love letters for no reason</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzyPBhypt-dbOO6f4Ur_jiUVF85BWnPCRZu-93nfGx8aomKH_TX5vzr4vXX8b1T-hFfYwD_U8PX_mz3Bzr9JWRenARezOlMUvL0kqMrlhAd708qkoQ_4ZgYM-9OgQTZB-r3dQ27aI-imx/s1600/IMG_7956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzyPBhypt-dbOO6f4Ur_jiUVF85BWnPCRZu-93nfGx8aomKH_TX5vzr4vXX8b1T-hFfYwD_U8PX_mz3Bzr9JWRenARezOlMUvL0kqMrlhAd708qkoQ_4ZgYM-9OgQTZB-r3dQ27aI-imx/s640/IMG_7956.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's effortlessly cool and graceful</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loving and gentle</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistuvhIcfPd0dWaytQy2xsmSnXc3iXFw06c6esDJqYRrAwuizmG9Gb0AtUyEhjFeZVPRgptcJJk9rbshQsY436-OyL0M4SoIC65Apfi9VyaXHv5eLWLpRRv5Ud8G3AWiFyYOFEjpi8a2wJ/s1600/IMG_8046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistuvhIcfPd0dWaytQy2xsmSnXc3iXFw06c6esDJqYRrAwuizmG9Gb0AtUyEhjFeZVPRgptcJJk9rbshQsY436-OyL0M4SoIC65Apfi9VyaXHv5eLWLpRRv5Ud8G3AWiFyYOFEjpi8a2wJ/s640/IMG_8046.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">inquisitive and artistic</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naturally joyous and playful</td></tr>
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I just love her to pieces and seeing her not feeling well hurts me on the inside. Last week when she had a fever she woke up at 3am coughing. Tori awoke as well. I stayed up with them and we partied. Despite her weakness, every time she looked at Tori she broke out in a smile. <br />
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Parenting is like this fun and scary roller coaster that you're tied to and can never get off of. You can laugh, scream, cry and feel like puking... or get puked on.<br />
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I have to say that it was nice having her home with me and Tori, like a mini vacation day to craft and play. She always ended up feeling better midday, but not quite well enough to go to school<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making avocado sushi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously so sick</td></tr>
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and finally... the next little girl to enchant my heart.<br />
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-90799088575348946272015-04-14T12:43:00.003-04:002015-04-15T11:00:43.820-04:00The Winter that Couldn't Get our Attention<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This winter squatted a like a big chunky stinky butt in my face, belonging to the mother of all contradictions. I don't remember ever having a winter so melancholy, where everything about it felt like, "been there done that already." And in that mundane climate, my internal monologue turned round and round and tore off tread in the brain. I felt like I was pressing on the gas pedal and the break pedal at the same time; wanting so bad to fast forward into summer for the fun yoga paddleboarding season, but moment to moment trying to slow down, savor and freeze time with my baby girl. It was the winter that felt like it would never end and I hoped it never would. <br />
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Now the cherry blossom trees and forsythia bloom and a pile of baby clothing too-small-to-fit-anymore has sprouted in the closet. Every day that passes she is one day older, one day bigger. And I already miss that little snuggle nugget. I wish I had every minute on video tape.<br />
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I can look back at the pictures from this winter and feel like something happened, something developed. But really it passed around me while I hibernated with the baby in arms. The magic of winter begged to get into the house and get our attention. Begged us to go skiing or build a snowman. It seemed like Elsa paid us a visit and left patterns of ice on the bay windows. But these melted quickly and not even the orchids were phased. <br />
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The kids played video games. Nala learned how to Minecraft.</div>
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They played outside sometimes with the other kids in the neighborhood. Here our neighbor gave Nala a sled ride on his power wheel chair. I ran outside and snapped a pic. She loved it, of course.</div>
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One day it snowed and then warmed up to 50 degrees shortly after. That 50 felt like 80.</div>
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And these beautiful kids grew up together. Laughing and sharing and fighting. Still sleeping in the same room.</div>
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I came home on a Friday evening after being gone from the kids and baby for almost four hours. I walked in and up the stairs of our spit level home, and Mari sat on the sofa, cuddling with the baby. She sat next to him, reclining on his chest while his left arm framed her and hand draped over her chubby tummy. <br />
"She's shaking. She just started shaking." He said.<br />
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I looked down at her and her relaxed position had electrified. She looked straight at me with big eyes and a huge smile, arms and legs waving like a crazy Furby. Mari held her, but everything about her posture screamed out, "Mom! Pick me up!"<br />
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I think her body shook with pure love. Her enthusiasm reflected adoration untainted by any experience of harm or pain. These motions, expressed the most naive and innocent form, what it feels like to love someone down to your core, and to not be afraid of that love. <br />
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And I decided that's what I want to provide, I want to give this baby everything she needs so that she can love fully and innocently. Right now, while she's so little, her wants and needs overlap and her little heart looks like a transparent diamond. It takes the color of whatever stands in the background, but it looks unique and beautiful in its own right, and it glitters a rainbow spectrum back at you. <br />
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Seeing her get into Happy Baby Pose for the first time brought me more excitement than any other milestone this far! I took a pic, uploaded it, nstagramed it, facebooked it, now blogged it, recorded it in the baby development app. #yogamoms #modernparents. lol!</div>
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-77147644900967314282015-03-06T08:37:00.001-05:002015-03-19T12:52:57.351-04:00The Gift of TodayI want to pack up a record of every cute thing the kids say and do in a box with a bow and save it to open later like a time capsule. <br />
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Tori giggles like the Pillsbury dough boy when I rub her down with baby oil in the morning. She'll rest in my lap, staring up with big eyes and seeming to study my movements as I talk on the phone, or finish work up on the computer. She sings herself to sleep in the car seat or the hammock, and coos with the sounds of a man's voice. <br />
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Waiting six years to have another baby really worked out well. I think I'm much wiser now, at least on one issue. I chose to stay home with Tori, instead of returning to work full time like I did with Kaio and Nala. I chose to stay home with the bundle of cuddles. My occasional hours out of the house teaching yoga bring blessed me-time and also give Mari and my mom a chance to greater bond with Tori.<br />
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So I have been hibernating in a baby cave for the last five months. It has been awesome.<br />
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Because I know I wont get these moments back. Already I recall her tiny infant size with nostalgia.</div>
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And seeing her faces and mannerisms sometimes reminds me of things the other kids used to do, things I had forgotten about. Like toes that curl around my thumb, a surprised face that smiles in the mirror, and a heavy head that falls asleep in my arms while my feet dance out a samba beat.<br />
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She has brought out a sense of responsibility in the kids. Nala loves it when I let her change her diaper, or clothes. She'll hold her, play with her, carry her. Kaio now holds the door open for us if I'm lugging the car seat. He'll play with her so sweetly, and then also sometimes try to surprise her with a loud noise and make her cry because he thinks it's funny.<br />
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Tori was co-sleeping in bed with us, but then Mari noticed that she likes swinging in the hammock we strung in our room. Now she easily falls asleep in there, chewing on the ears of one of Nala's stuffed animals, or listening to me sing her a song. We rock her to sleep, and get the bed all to ourselves. If she starts to stir, we push it a bit and she floats back to dreamland. I wish bedtime had been this easy with the other kids.<br />
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The house sprouted a mess of baby toys and kid toys. I usually get them cleaned up every morning after the kids go off to school. But there have been so many snow days lately that I threw in the towel for the time being. But that's ok. If I can get the kitchen clean every day, I feel happy enough. <br />
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Kaio's doing really well in public school. He hates doing homework. But he seems happier in general at home, and he's established a group of friends that he really jives with. Plus, his imagination blooms through story telling. He dreamed up a video game, called Epic Kaio, that he talks about all-the-time. Always talking about what happens in the game between him and his friends AidanCraft and Yellow against an Army of Stampy Cats that are trying to take over the world. I need to find a way to record his ideas, because they are pure gold. That's a project in process.<br />
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The other night Nala came out of her room after bed time. She walked up to me and handed me a fake $50 bill. <br />
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"What is this for?" I said.<br />
She mumbled something about wanting to stay up later.<br />
"Are you trying to pay me so you can stay up later?!" I realized. "No, you need to go to bed."<br />
"Here, what about for two?" She handed me another $50 with a sweet smile and shinny eyes.<br />
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Mari has been working more hours than usual it seems. But he's in good spirits. We both are anxious for paddleboarding weather to return.<br />
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Kaio and Nala play, and sometimes fight, and sometimes play. Nala will sit down next to him on the sofa and play Minecraft split screen. Or Kaio will sit down on the floor and play with her lego scenes. <br />
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Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with all the mess, and all the adult things to do - like bills and meals and decisions and doctor visits. And I wonder where the time went, and why I've never visited Bali or Hawaii. I get caught up in the drain of the never ending tasks and absence of free time.<br />
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Sometimes I notice the sweetness of our family, and the underlying affection and support we all show each other. The sarcasm and inside jokes, the morning cuddling. The way we share stories, and try to really listen to each other talk. The way we each know what everyone is interested in.<br />
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I think or hope that someday again there will be free time. But for now, I'll just breath and focus on the gift of today :)Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-84046036883205252302015-01-22T22:59:00.001-05:002015-01-22T23:07:58.963-05:00American Art MuseumDude, I've been living in DC how many years? Like 30, and I've never checked out this museum before. It is awesome! Off the beaten path for sure, not on the main Smithsonian row. It's in China Town, just a block away from the metro. Only two blocks away from the <a href="http://www.granolafunkmama.com/2012/01/attack-at-national-building-museum.html">National Building Museum</a>, so you could in theory hit them both up in one trip. But in practice, I doubt that because there is so much to see at the American Art Museum!<br />
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We went to the 3rd floor for the Modern Art first. I think this was called Lady Eats Icecream, or something like that. She's eating a sundae and reading the Nat Enquirer.<br />
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Not crowded at all, even on a holiday. </div>
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Neon across America</div>
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The artist caption explained that this piece represents the joy and freedom she felt the summer she was 17 years old </div>
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Called "Children Playing" reminded me of Shiva </div>
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The kids were more interested in this art museum than any of the other ones we've been to visit. They were asking me questions about the art works and really taking it in.<br />
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Plus the courtyard was the perfect place to run around without freezing your butt off outside! </div>
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Glad someone is using those old fashioned tvs </div>
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There was a bird exhibit of art inspired by birds that have gone extinct. I wasn't allowed to take pictures in there. But the exhibit features art on so many mediums, from installations, to crafts, to sketches, to technology. We only made it to most of the 3rd floor with a break for lunch, but I'd love to return. This museum is totally worth checking out. <br />
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0Smithsonian American Art Museum, 8th and F NW, Washington, DC 20004, USA38.8979902 -77.02300550000001113.375955700000002 -118.33159950000001 64.4200247 -35.714411500000011tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-1076549855176734762015-01-08T21:45:00.000-05:002015-01-08T21:55:08.603-05:00Joining Mid-Year, with Blue Hair - Back to Public School<div>
This fall and winter have been full of changes. We welcomed the sweet baby girl, Tori. Nala began Kindergarten, and Kaio went back to public school. I've been reluctant to write about Kaio returning to school on social media because I'm a bit embarrassed. Partly, I see it as a declaration of my failure as a homeschooling mom. But so far it seems it was the right decision. </div>
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Often I notice that I could live many versions of myself, like Mystique from the X-Men. Well not quite so perfect and deadly. But many paths or possibilities. I could see my life without choosing to have kids, I think Mari and I would be living on the West Coast, and we would have probably spent some time backpacking in Asia. I can see my life on a homestead, with a sweet pair of goats in our back yard that Nala and her friends take for walks on sunny days. I could see my life in the city, with a suit and a job, although that reality makes my stomach churn a bit. </div>
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I had gotten used to our reality as homeschoolers. I was especially really liking the other homeschooling families we were hanging out with. I saw our future, days spent in our own rhythm, immersed in creativity and learning, free from societal expectations. But our present reality waded along afflicted with clashes. <br />
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I thought in the homeschooling environment I would be better able to accommodate his leaning disabilities by tailoring our schooling around his specific needs. I couldn't find a curriculum that fit well, and so I was molding the days around his interests. But I just wasn't that great at it.<br />
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After a year into it I still couldn't teach myself to get better. Our problems became even more pronounced after Nala started school and after Tori's birth. Lack of sleep made my fuse shorter. Difficultly getting out of the house with an infant meant less social opportunities. We would get to an event once or twice a week and Kaio would spend the whole week recycling over whether the kids liked him or not and convincing himself that no one liked him. The next event would be another drama completely manufactured in his anxious mind. I was not serving him well, and he was becoming afraid of people, more timid than I'd ever seen him. </div>
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Then our days completely revolved around him obsessing with playing video games and doing his work and chores so I would let him play the video games. I searched all over for things that were fun that were not video games; hiking, swimming, board games, audio books, trips to museums, science experiments, classes on robotics, parkour, skateboarding, and native crafts. I tried using the video games as springboards for other activities; reading graphic novels about Plants vs. Zombies, Lego and Starwars inspired writing prompts, researching history of Assassin's Creed and Just Cause era, and much more. But he never liked anything and boy was that discouraging. So I decided to implement more structure and define the required work for each day in reading, writing, and math. I only wanted us to do a couple pages of work a day but he would negotiate with me for about an hour -every day- to do less. And who can blame him? We'd spend the whole morning like that. During fights he would say awful and hurtful things about himself and about me. Mari thought that he was bored, and I agree.</div>
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I overheard my mom praying for help.</div>
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Then a family moved in on our street. A girl Kaio's age, who gets along with him and dances to the beat of the same drum. But she goes to school and likes her teacher. I started thinking, 'wow, well if she seems to be doing so well, maybe Kaio would too."<br />
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I remembered what the new principal said to me at Nala's K orientation, "How's Kaio? How's homeschooling? If you change your mind, we'd love to have him back." <br />
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Kaio's began inquiring with me about homechoolers who had returned to public school. I contacted the new principal to ask if we could come visit and when we arrived for the meeting we saw that he had just shaved his head to celebrate the school obtaining a fundraising goal. What a silly guy.<br />
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At first Kaio was reluctant to return to school, but then we went to see the class. He didn't want to leave. He was so happy to be around more kids. We stayed to have lunch there with Nala.<br />
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He starts begging me to let him go back to school. Zoom, within a week I have all the paperwork done and BAM suddenly he is back in school all day long.<br />
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Luckily the principal really set a tone of respect with the teachers and staff, so we were treated well despite the hair and our abnormal academic practices. He also said not to worry about doing homework if that became a fight. Can you tell I dig the new principal?<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGX0QMkj3FM/VK4D8bTSl6I/AAAAAAAA2bM/qMto__eV71M/s1600/IMG_6419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EGX0QMkj3FM/VK4D8bTSl6I/AAAAAAAA2bM/qMto__eV71M/s1600/IMG_6419.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a>Joining mid year, and with blue hair, Kaio has caught so much attention from the other students. The teachers were able to fit a speaking part in for him in the winter show, a funny line that made everyone in the audience laugh. He said, "Hit it Ladies!" introducing the girl snowflakes to come on stage and dance. Girls have crushes on him. He's completely oblivious to this of course. <br />
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I know the transition to school workload and academics must be hard for him. But at least he likes to go, and honestly he seems happier at home. He has stopped obsessing over video games. A whole 4 days passed where he didn't play any video games. I couldn't believe it. It seriously blew my mind since our life had revolved around those video games for over a year. <br />
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Nala likes to go to school too. They sit on the bus together sometimes, which I think is the cutest thing imaginable. The neighborhood kids have quite a little tribe and play together after school almost every day. All different ages, but they get along and look out for each other. The sixth graders that play are all such cool kids. I wish I had a childhood like that. <br />
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Today an argument broke out between Kaio and one of the younger girl neighbors. She ran off crying. Later on he decided that he wanted to apologize. One of the other girls assisted Kaio with the process, occasionally she whispered in his ear what to say and mediated their resolution. Never once did he look at me for help. For so long I felt like the only translator between him and the rest of the world, it was beautiful to see that I didn't need to be.<br />
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When we put him back to school I fought feelings of failure. I wasn't good enough at catching his interests and igniting a passion for life away from the screen. Nor was I good enough at recognizing and capitalizing on moments when those passions were prime to be fanned. Or maybe I wasn't good enough at backing off and letting the learning happen organically. I worried that I represented a bruise in the awesome fruits of the homeschooling community. <br />
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But I had to talk myself out of all those poisonous thoughts. First of all, nobody said anything to insinuate those thoughts. Public school is only one measure of success in a landscape lush with diverse stories. And I don't think we did anything wrong. We sculpt our life based on the best options at the moment. If the kids start to feel like school is not serving them anymore, then we'll consider private or homeschool again. Although my kids have chosen the school route for their lives right now and it seems like the right path, I would not be surprised if we came back to homeschool when they can read and be more self guided. <br />
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I still feel like a homeschooler at heart because I believe in self-led learning and connect with the non-conformity. Is it weird that I really want to go to the VA Homeschooling Conference this year?<br />
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-38968565552214298862015-01-02T00:40:00.003-05:002015-01-02T00:47:43.754-05:00New Year Goddess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nala's 100% cooler than I will ever be. I watch her, amazed by the innate grace she commands as she dances on the floor like a goddess. She loves her family with abandon. Despite them rarely seeing each other, last Christmas she made an ornament for my dad, because she loves her grandfather. She gives us all kisses all day long. She talks to Tori, begs to sleep right next to her because she loves her so much. When Kaio says, "I love Tori but I don't like Nala." I whisper to Nala, "He loves you, he just doesn't want to say it." and she says, "I know." Then turns to Kaio and says, "I know you love me you just don't want to say it."<br />
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Last night was New Years Eve and after a kid friendly party over at our friend Ria's house, we danced the night away until midnight. I felt so full of love for the kids, each so unique.<br />
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-36825662621851160922014-12-08T12:48:00.000-05:002014-12-08T13:35:21.971-05:00Baby ToriTwo months and we've come so far in such a short amount of time. From walking up and down the hall that first night with a baby that wouldn't stop crying, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. To the night long sleeping beauty who smiles and coos all day long. Can't get enough of this baby girl.<br />
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-39652951870521524262014-10-01T21:09:00.002-04:002014-10-02T02:07:27.615-04:00Blue Hair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The first week of Kaio's birth his god-mother, Merlin, declared that someday she'd give him a blue Mohawk. I forgot about that, but Merlin didn't. So this week when he suggested, or maybe she did, I don't know, dreams came true.</div>
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We went out for lunch with matching blue hair. With my big belly, and his blue do, people get out of the way in fear. They have no idea how docile we are. The host at the restaurant sported some 3 gauge ear plugs and told Kaio that he liked his hair. <br />
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and through all this, Merlin's in love with a guy 3000miles away. But thanks to modern texting, they can still make each other's hearts flutter all day long. Here's her I'm-smitten face.<br />
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I'm just going to distract myself coloring in this dragonfly.<br />
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Next stop skate park.</div>
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And today the apple orchard.<br />
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Iron Man landing.<br />
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A blue streak running into the distance down the rows of golden delicious. He loves his hair. Everywhere we go people comment and tell him they like it. The cashier at Whole Food yesterday called me the coolest mom. My own mom, however, is pissed and not hiding the fact. She totally ignored Kaio the first day. But I think she's warming up to it and discovering that blue dye isn't all <i>that </i>weird this day in age. <br />
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<br />Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-45401260216471699072014-09-29T21:33:00.001-04:002014-09-29T21:38:31.503-04:00Forest School Photo BombKinda loving these pictures from Forest School today. Some of them I took and some of them Nala took. Purposely only posting ones with blurry faces of kids other than Kaio and Nala.<br />
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Some Arabic charm found in the stream</div>
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Bright orange shrooms that look like flowers </div>
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Smashing clam shells with rocks </div>
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The voyage</div>
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Somebody was kicking this tree, so we had to give it some love </div>
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Kid's eye view </div>
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More kids's eye view </div>
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Light purple asters maybe </div>
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"Mom, go like this."</div>
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"I took a picture of the camera"</div>
Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-10578531860191253722014-09-27T13:51:00.000-04:002014-09-27T13:51:29.994-04:00Silver Line Metro and Soccer!When they first began construction of the Wiehle Metro station Kaio was two years old and obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. We lived a block away from the site and drove past it every day on the way to drop off at his in-home daycare. Every time we passed, he'd let out this excited squeal, "Metro Station, Metro Station!" This evolved into the later equally excited, "They're building a train station!" <br />
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He long ago dropped the train fixation and exhibits barely a tenth of the excitement I do when passing it. Maybe I'm nostalgic for his toddler days, but whenever we pass it I feel the need to say, "Look Kaio, the metro station!" <br />
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Delay after delay, it seemed like the Silver Line would never turn operational. Then finally one day, driving home on the Dulles access road, I spotted a train gliding down the track. It looked so novel, so cool and metropolitan that I reached for my phone, trying to grab a snap shot of it to post to facebook. Yeah, driving 75 and fumbling to take a pick of the new metro train, not a good idea.<br />
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Mari scored box tickets to Manchester vs. Inter Milan through his work a few days after the official opening of the Metro Silver Line. We took the opportunity to ride it from Wiehle all the way to Fed Ex Field in Landover MD. A straight shot all the way across the DMV, the voyage took over an hour. Rush hour tickets for four were around $50, but at least we didn't have to pay for the tickets or parking at the stadium. We parked our car in the free lot a block from the Wiehle station, and only a couple miles from home. The new metro station looks good, although still much under construction. It's a bit puzzling what is construction and what is artwork. <br />
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-85045917665015580302014-09-07T22:10:00.000-04:002014-09-07T22:10:23.010-04:002014 School/No-School Year Kick-off Baby!Last Tuesday you could scroll through a facebook feed peppered with cute pictures of kids with backpacks on. Some holding signs proudly displaying their grade and what they want to be when they grow up. I have no such cute picture. <div>
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As much as we planned, we still somehow almost missed the school bus. I opened the front door to see it on the corner and we raced across the wet freshly mowed grass, grass clippings clinging to our shins and dirtying our shiny shoes. I should clarify - I waddled and Nala raced. </div>
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Before getting on, Nala said to me again, "I'm a little bit nervous." </div>
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"I can give you a ride if you want." I replied. </div>
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But no, she wanted to get on that bus. Just like she wants to go to public school despite me offering to homeschool her. </div>
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I got this picture.</div>
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Kaio had accompanied us to the bus. Maybe he wanted to be a part of the excitement. Or maybe a little part of him hoped that he'd be stepping on that bus too. </div>
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We walked back to the house together, in the front door to the calm stillness of a sunlit living room. You could hear soft acoustic guitar music streaming through Spotifly and playing on our little bluetooth Bose speaker. I was trying to keep the space as simple as possible, neat and sensory soothing. I'd gotten a little purple cardboard shelf to file the workbooks by subject, and a coffee table made of cherry wood to work at. </div>
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I would have taken one of those cute homeschooling pictures of him with the plaque saying what he wants to learn. But I knew he wouldn't be down for it. And when I asked him what he wants to be and study, he said this:</div>
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It took us a good two hours to get through a page of math review. I knew it would be hard to get back in the swing of things. Each day seems a little bit better, but I spend most of the morning regretting taking him out of school, since that is our formal study time. And then most of the afternoon feeling that we made the right decision, since that is our activity time. Last week we went to the pool twice, met up with other homeschoolers, watched a documentary about the US invasion of Panama, built a tank out of cardboard, and read stories on real zombies in Haiti and the legend of the Flying Dutchman. </div>
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He's super good about doing his chores now, and I've started to add a couple more to the list. Basically he just wants to get his responsibilities out of the way so that he can relax on the sofa playing video games. I really respect that, because if that's what his adult life looks like, that's admirable in my book. Go to work, contribute to society, make your money, keep the house clean, and play with your video games or toys or whatever. That's what most of the successful guys I know do, and they are pretty happy and cool!</div>
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Nala seems to like school. Her teacher lives on our street, and she really lucked out this year by landing in the same class as her bff, She's a lucky girl.</div>
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However, she did complain that people are telling her what to do all the time and she doesn't get to do whatever she wants. Like in art class she wanted to draw a dog, but they were only allowed to draw a straight line, curvy line, circle, triangle, etc. I had to laugh. That's school girlfriend!</div>
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Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869620046382098554.post-10408246863339400222014-08-27T08:13:00.001-04:002014-08-27T08:57:25.760-04:00New Stage of LifeI must be entering a new stage of life. <br />
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One where the orchids bloom and the bird feeders hang full of seeds, frequented by birds.<br />
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The house seems tidier, all though still probably not close your your standards. <br />
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Today we dropped almost everything planned to do and stuck around the house. Despite the lazy home day, I managed to connect with each kid, and that made the day feel like a success. We were mostly out of food like milk, yogurt, bread, veggies, and everything. So I made vegan chocolate cookies for breakfast. Which seemed like a good idea, but the lame breakfast left me so tired out that I couldn't rally the kids for a trip to the grocery store. We had some frozen entrees in the freezer, a carrot and 2 last leafs of lettuce, which served for lunch but still not nutrient dense enough to wake me up. After lunch, chores and reading I took a long nap on the sofa while the kids played. We finally made it out to the grocery store at 6:30pm. <br />
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Nala did my nails and I love them.<br />
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Kaio wanted to be camouflaged and then hunt an animal, like a deer or rabbit with his blow gun.<br />
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So we went on a hunt.<br />
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The hops are also blooming<br />
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and the birdhouse has something strange sticking out of it.<br />
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And I think Mari's entering a new stage in life too. He's been so energized lately and so especially happy playing with the kids. Maybe it's because they are older and more engaging now, or maybe there's been a shift in him. I mean, he's always been a great dad. But this summer he spends less down time in front of the computer and phone. He takes Nala out on bike rides for ice cream, takes Kaio paddleboarding, initiates nerf gun wars throughout the house before bed. Maybe it's because he dropped his cell phone in the Potomac? Maybe because he's been working out more and taking vitamins? Maybe he's thirty now. I don't know, but the kids adore him.<br />
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Crossbow with added magnifying site (ducktaped and invented by Kaio).<br />
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Ninjas at midnight<br />
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Here's to hydration<br />
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Nala too enters a new stage of life. She starts kindergarten in less than a week. As the time looms, I keep trying to persuade her to homeschool. But she's adamant and excited about going to public school. I know it will be good for her as public school is a perfect fit for kids like Nala. Kids who follow rules without asking why, kids who love circle time and craft activities, kids who can be social with pretty much anyone. I just really hope that the kids there don't mess with her sweetness, or deteriorate her creativity. </div>
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She's so stylish.<br />
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She lovingly saved this tomato plant from dying and it bore this huge orange tomato.<br />
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She loves to pretend to be animals.<br />
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She's quirky.<br />
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I think I need to get her a real baby carrier.<br />
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We'll see how it goes! I hope she loves it.</div>
Granola Funk Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08266597826049837477noreply@blogger.com3