Family Portrait

By Jackson, age 4 years 2 months

How old are you, Kiran?

She insists that she's two and a half. Does she even know the difference between one and two?



Clarice

New Toy

Uncle Randy and Auntie Amy gave Jackson a new dream toy for his birthday. He's been enjoying it.



Clarice

Kiran Translation Guide

Kiran is starting to talk more and more as her primary mode on communication. It's nice to not have to interpret her cries. Unfortunately, we now have to interpret her sounds. Here's a handy guide to what on earth she's trying to say.

mo = more
ah done = all done
moke = milk
wa wa = water
ahsahsah = applesauce
nanny = banana
arage = orange
bad = bread
bad = bed
buddah = pillow
bitten = blanket
doddy = doggy
mao mao = cat
wog = frog
dars = star
moan = moon
eeyoh = ear
eye = eye
mouse = mouth
no = nose
dose = toes
beya buda = belly button
foogung = finger
peesh = please
tee too = thank you
(silence) = sorry
NOOOOOO = sorry
Jah Jah = Jackson
Chee Chee = Kiki

Clarice

Such Silence

We've been silent on this blog for a while. Lots of stuff going on. Plenty of drafts of blog posts in our heads, but we've had trouble committing to place finger to keyboard. But we know that there are a handful of folks, mainly our relatives, who would like news about our family....actually, our kids, so we'll try to post at least once a month this year.

Clarice

Halloween 09

Nuff said


Clarice

Grocery Shopping

We're trying to figure out how to get Kiran to bed early because she often seems so tired. So, one day I offered to take Jackson to Ralph's at 8pm so Kiran could have a quiet evening. Jackson enjoyed helping me choose veggies, fruits and ice-cream using commands from his perch in the shopping cart. Then he typically followed a choice by an opinionated; "I think I'm going to really, really enjoy that. Mmm."

At the check out line he admired the rows and rows of candy, assuming that they all contained yummy choclate. Then he blurted; "When I grow up I'm going to be 28 and then I can have some candy, right Daddy?" I laughed; "Sure, when you turn 28, you can come down here and have some candy. You can have one of each if you want." He said; "I think I'm going to really, really like the candy."

I hope he doesn't grow up until he's 28, although I say that now when he's three and cute.

Ian

Just Being Near Each Other

Last Friday I witnessed a teeny tiny event that warmed my mother-heart. We were at the passport office. Incidentally, we were there for 2.5 hours, which seemed like an unreasonably long time considering the fact that we actually had an appointment that took us one week to make, in a convoluted process involving a phone call with a million phone menus that resulted in an inconvenient noon appointment time, cutting into work hours and especially small children's nap times, causing fussiness galore in an environment that allowed no cell phones or computer usage to entertain said small children. But that's another story.

Anyway, Jackson spent the better part of our waiting time running in circles in the waiting area. The tiles on the floor were mostly black with white tiles set into diamond patterns. Some older, also impatient, children started the "don't step on the black tiles or you'll die because it's hot lava" game (which I distinctly remember from my own childhood). Jackson was trying to keep up with them, getting burnt by hot lava many, many times. Kiran couldn't keep up with them at all, so she stood in the middle of the hot lava, watching them circle around her.

At some point, Jackson must of gotten tired of being told that his feet were on fire. He walked over to a wall and sat on the floor, using the wall as a back rest. He stared rather vacantly off to the side. Kiran immediately toddled over and sat exactly three feet from him, gazing around in the opposite direction. With absolutely no acknowledgement of her presence, Jackson pulled away from the wall and narrowed the distance to one foot, leaving a little bit of personal space for both of them. Kiran gave a little glance behind her to where Jackson had relocated, lumbered to her hands and feet and backed her little diaper-clad hiney into his shoulder, guiding it down his torso to a very clumsy sitting position right next to him. He looked at her briefly, then put one arm around her shoulder and proceeded to bite the nails on his other hand.

We have so much drama in our lives sometimes, trying to demonstrate love to both children. One of my big fears is that my kids will not have a loving relationship with each other. But they really seem to enjoy just being near each other. No matter how many times he knocks her off her feet or pushes her or kisses her with his teeth, she still seeks him out. No matter how many times she steals away his limelight for something so simple as walking or steals his toys or gets the ideal daycare dropoff/pickup time, he still seeks her out.

It's a beautiful thing that starts most mornings. When he awakes, he usually plays independently until we go in their room to begin the morning process. Quite invariably, he ends up right next to her crib. And this morning, we were awakened by the sound of her calling him. "Dacksee. Dacksee." He heeded her call. When I asked him why he was sitting next to her crib, he said, "because she called me. She pointed at me and said 'Jackson', so I came over."

It makes me happy. It makes me worry less about their future without Ian and myself. Because if they like just being near each other now, I can hope they'll still look to each other when the inevitable occurs and we leave our responsibilities as their caretakers. They'll have each other.

Clarice

On Doubt

I had a very interesting experience nearly two months ago that I can't quite shake from my memory. I was on jury duty. Not just sitting in the jury assembly room, which is how I've served in the past. I was actually one of the 12 jurors on a criminal case. I can't give any of the details of the case. But I can say that I think it is incredible that we have, in this country, a system that respects its citizens enough to put one individual's guilt or innocence in the judgment of his/her peers. Sure, the system ain't perfect, but what it communicates about the founders' value for its citizenry is phenomenal.

It was a truly fascinating experience for the first 3 days. Jury selection, the presentation of evidence, witness testimony... Then we got to jury deliberations. We started out 7 to 5 on the verdict. By the end of the first hour of deliberations, we were at 8 to 2 with 2 undecided, leaning toward the majority. We took the weekend off and one of the undecideds, namely me, converted to the majority after being alone with my thoughts. By Monday morning, another undecided had converted to the majority and the process of deliberating made me more and more certain that the majority had the right decision. But the holdouts weren't persuaded. We were getting frustrated by mid-morning so we told the judge that we couldn't come to a decision and wanted to know what was next. He sent us back into deliberations, suggesting that we hadn't deliberated enough. So we went back in and kept working at it until lunchtime. Right after our lunch break, another undecided switched to the majority opinion and began confidently trying to persuade the holdout.

And this is where it got frustrating. "I have doubts", juror #11 indicated. The majority affirmed #11's doubts. "It's okay to have doubts, but are they reasonable?" we pleaded. "What about this? And this? And this?" #11 asked. We countered each argument with logic and with emotion, with metaphors and personal life examples. But he was stuck. But worst of all was his attitude about it. There was a certain lack of humility. He mocked the attorneys...the witnesses...even us. He was rude -interrupting us, shouting over us, chiding us for our conclusions about the evidence. He said he wasn't the type to jump to hasty conclusions, suggesting that the remaining 11 of us had. Ultimately, he was adamant that he didn't, and even couldn't, believe the testimonies given as evidence. His reason for disbelief - he didn't think he had the ability to see what the witnesses saw, therefore the witnesses couldn't possibly have seen it, despite the entirely different occupational training the witnesses had. Nothing could convince him that the witnesses had demonstrated their trustworthiness nor could be taken at their word. So he stood his ground. He looked at the rest of us and concluded, "maybe you guys are willing to look at this as a game, but I can't ruin someone's life based on something I can't believe." That kind of hurt, because the rest of us were also aware of the implications of our decision.

So we rang the bailiff, who led us back into the courtroom to deliver our verdict. Hung jury. 11 to 1. I mourned the loss of citizen time, taxpayer money, and the simple fact that one person's doubt could hijack what I thought was justice. The judge thanked us for our service and released us, saying that both attorneys would be available afterward to answer any questions.

We filed out into the hallway. Eleven of us huddled together. It was an intense experience and we just needed to debrief and mourn together. I personally wasn't planning to talk to either of the attorneys, but the Assistant District Attorney who was prosecuting the case saw us all there and came over. She thanked us in a very congenial and understanding way. We all beat around the bush a bit, then somebody had the boldness to ask her a direct question about the case. Of course, I can't divulge more, but I can say that what she told us clarified everything entirely. There were hints throughout the trial of the conclusion she revealed to us, but because she was bound by the laws of the court, she couldn't reveal those facts in court. And Juror #11? He very clearly saw us gathered around the Assistant DA. I waved him over, being one of the few people he was willing to talk to, but he just waved a goodbye, stepped into the elevator, and was gone.

I guess the reason that I can't shake this event is because there are hints of the eternal here. First, I was so impressed that the significant figures in this experience played by the rules. They could have broken the rules of the court to align the decision of the jury with what they knew to be true. But they didn't. And I think the Creator has been gracious enough to do the same. He could break His own rules to give us everything we need to cast aside all doubt and just believe. But He doesn't. I really don't think we can handle the whole truth. But I think there are hints of truth strewn throughout our life experience. We just have to learn to interpret them. And we have to trust that the other people we journey with in this life are also interpreting their hints appropriately so that the aggregate gives us a bigger picture of the backstory to be revealed. And I think we need humility. Because without humility, doubt becomes an insurmountable hurdle to accessing truth.

Clarice

Learning To Read

Jackson has been working on his reading skills. He knows all the upper case letters, almost all of the lower case letter, and most of the sounds that the letters make. So we've been helping him out. When he points to words and asks us what the words say, we try to help him sound things out.

Last week as we were driving home, Jackson decided to read his beloved "Cars & Trucks" book, given to him by his Aunt E. He started out by calling out the letters he recognized. I heard him say "J-A-C-K. Mommy, only fwee more letter and it's my name!" I thought that was rather clever and glanced back at the book to verify his declaration. Sure enough...


I was rather impressed that...a) he knew how to spell his own name and b) he could on to determine that there were 3 letters missing to spell his name.

Excited to see part of his name in one of his favorite books, he tried reading some more. I heard him excitedly sound out "pah, ih, kah, uh, pah. Pickup! Mommy, this says pickup!" So I glanced back again to verify.


Close.

Clarice

An Ode to Aunt Sandra

We have a friend who hosts very innovative birthday gatherings. Last year, she hosted a "mustache party" in which all attendees were encouraged to either grow mustaches (if chromosomally capable) or wear a fake mustache, which she kindly affixed to her invitations.

This year, she decided to host a poetry reading party to which invitees were encouraged to bring poorly written poetry for public reading. So in honor of Aunt Sandra's birthday, Jackson helped me write a poem. I'll let you judge whether is counts as being poorly written. And I'll let you decide which portions Jackson wrote and which I can take credit for.

Happy Birthday, Auntie Sandra
I hope you had a lot of pandra
And pancakes
And blueberries
And strawberries
And raspberries
I hope you had a special day
And did some baking by the bay
I did some baking on top of this tow truck
And, uh, I love you pochuck!

Not quite iambic pentameter, but at least it rhymed.

Clarice

Spelling

Jackson's been working on his letters lately. He can recognize almost all of the letters with great confidence and can write about half of the letters with some prompting. But we didn't think he had grasped the concept of spelling yet.

So tonight I was pleasantly surprised. We were talking about what he should write on a note to a friend. He told me what he wanted to write, then excitedly exclaimed, "And then I write Love, J-A-C-K.......ummmmm." I wasn't expecting him to make it that far, so I only wanted to offer a hint. "What goes ssssss?" "Oh! I know!" he exclaimed. "Snake-K-R".

It's a start.

Clarice

Kiran's surgery

Last Thursday, Kiran had ear tubes installed in both her eardrums. Sounds like a factory recall, but when your little girl gets an ear infection on average of once a month and spends a third of her life this year on antibiotics, which research is starting to link possibly to tooth enamel defects, you have to ask for help.

Clarice wanted to be present for the surgery, and I wanted her to be there since she is the medical professional in our family. Remarkably, thanks God, she was going to be able to squeeze it in before fleeing to her jury duty appointment at 10:30. We agreed that I would take Kiran in for 7:30 am check in and Clarice would leave home a bit later, drop Jackson off at daycare at a more reasonable 8:30, and then join us. The scheduled surgery was 9 am and therefore Kiran was not to have any fluids more than two hours prior. Hoping she would stay asleep, I scooped up the sleeping beauty at 7am and carried her to the car. But she awakened and became her cheerful, non-drowsy self, so I gave her a sip of water.

Arriving perfectly on time, I signed in and enjoyed Kiran climbing all over me and the chairs in the lobby. Then a nurse came out to collect the first patient of the day, a little girl who had already checked in but was not in the lobby. Apparently, her parents took her out into the hallway to distract her and they could not be reached by page. So, the nurse decided to take Kiran instead, an hour early!

Thus, a whirlwind of activity began that I was not quite prepared for. Within moments I was introduced to an anesthesiologist and asked questions about allergies, etc. I have a blurry memory of all the instructions I was given and people I met. I recognized the surgeon and said hello. The main point I remember was a description of the effect the sleeping gas would have on Kiran; that she would struggle for about a minute and then her eyes would roll back in her head and she'd be out. Knowing that Kiran was not supposed to have fluids in her tummy for fear they would come up and aspirate her, I secretly hoped that they would be forced to wait until Clarice arrived. I managed to call Clarice and alert her to the possible advanced schedule, but there was not much she could do to speed up her arrival.

Approval to commence suddenly happened and I was asked to sit next to the operating table and hold Kiran in my lap. A mask was held over her mouth and nose and when I caught a whiff of the pungent odor I joked about passing out myself and falling off the swivel chair. Kiran turned red in the face and panicked and I did my best to offer soothing talk and strokes to calm her. Then she went limp and the team instructed me to help lay her on the table and then I could go to the waiting area. At this point I felt totally helpless. Here was my little girl, unconscious, looking puffy in the face with tubes going everywhere. I was reluctant to leave so quickly and someone suggested I kiss Kiran on the forehead. The suggestion struck me because I couldn't believe someone had to tell me to do that. I'd been kissing her on the top of her head, but once she was out I kinda thought there was no more point to soothing words and touch. The request to kiss her one last time was haunting and surreal. Fortunately they continued to suggest actions that my body listened to, since I was not apparently able to give myself gross motor instructions. The surgeon told me that Kiran would be out of surgery in five or ten minutes and I expressed wonder and delight that the ordeal would be so short.

I found a magazine to read but could hardly focus on the article I chose. My heart raced, my body wanted to shudder and tears welled up in my eyes. I don't know how to express it, but I was dazed and alone all of a sudden, totally out of my element and comfort zone. Just writing this is making me cry all over again. It was so sad for me, giving Kiran over to the doctors and nurses and trusting them with her one-year old life.

And then I was escorted into a recovery room and Kiran was crying unconsolably and I held her tight and helped her cope with the obvious confusion. After about twenty minutes of pathetic wailing, she took her still warm milk bottle and began to calm down. So did I. Clarice arrived shortly thereafter and Kiran wanted to be held by her and not by me. Life quickly returned to normal and the little girl fell asleep in my car to wake up a perfectly happy little girl that I enjoyed for the rest of the day. Thank you medical team for taking such good care of my little sugar booger. Thank you God for being the Great Physician and loving us so much!

So no more ear infections, and I hope no more surgeries for any of my family. How Clarice must have felt when I experienced a concussion five days after our honeymoon and ankle surgery three weeks later. It's so much easier to deal with one's own ordeals than watch a loved one experience them.

Ian

"I have a bug"

Ian's been a bit under the weather the past few days. Surprisingly, neither of the kids appear to have given him this latest illness. To prevent the unusual circumstance of the viral pathway actually reversing its normal direction, we've been practicing a bit of respiratory hygiene. So I handled all of the food distribution at dinner time last night. But Jackson, accustomed to getting service from both of us, got a bit confused as to why Daddy was refusing to peel his orange.

"I can't touch your food today," Ian explained to him. "I have a bug and we don't want you to catch it."

"Ohhhhhh," he agreed knowingly. "Like when Patrick was in the big yard last week and a buzzy bee sat on his shoulder and Mi-ko said don't touch it and it fly away."

Ummmm...yeah. Exactly like that.

Funny, funny kid.

Clarice

When Life Events Collide

I've been riveted by the news from Iran. I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps it's because this uprising reminds me of the events of Tiananmen Square 20 years ago, when I woke to the idea that the human spirit yearns for freedom. I've come to understand that it's actually a spiritual freedom that we long for more than political freedom. But I think that until an individual can recognize this internal freedom, external freedom is much easier to identify and pursue.

Perhaps the events occurring in Tehran are a sign of the groanings of the earth under the weight of the consequences of human action. I had this intuition after the events of 9/11. I wonder at the connection between these seemingly disparate events. And I wonder what kind of beauty the Creator desires to bring out of the ashes at this time. And how we might intercede to facilitate it.

I just can't put my finger on why my attention has been drawn to Iran.

But this is where life events collide. Over a year ago Ian traveled to the Middle East to work on a movie, The Stoning of Soraya M.


Release of the movie has been delayed multiple times, but has finally been set for June 26. It's based on the true story of an innocent Iranian woman who is framed for an offense so that her husband can be free to marry another woman. Ian and I found out about the release date pretty much the same night we started hearing the news from Iran. And we both had the thought that this was a remarkable connection.

I guess we're not the only ones. The star of the film, Shohreh Aghdashloo, with whom Ian worked, was recently interviewed regarding the connection between the events depicted in the film and the events occurring right now.

So as I sit here blogging, coincidentally wearing my crew t-shirt for the movie, I think of the young Iranians who are protesting their oppression, and pray for a more divine release from oppression.

Clarice

Jackson Prays

A bit after Kiran was born, Ian decided to start a family tradition, modeled on his own family. So every night after the kids bathe, we all gather around the large papasan chair in the kids' room and read one Bible story, ask Jackson what he would like to pray for, and then pray together. So for almost a year, we've been taking turns praying out loud for Jackson and Kiran to hear.

Over the past month, Jackson has been rather unfocused with the whole process of talking about what to pray for. In fact, he's been downright uninterested. But for whatever reason, he stayed focused tonight. When we asked him what he wanted to pray for, he began listing some things, "trucks, cars, friends, the big blue chair, family 'votions, the map..." "What about your sister?" Ian suggested, "Remember how she's been sick?" (with her 5th ear infection in as many months). Then, as he often does, Ian asked Jackson if he would like to pray. Usually, Jackson refuses, volunteering Ian or myself. But tonight, he decided to pray:

"Dear God, thank you for this day. Thank you for... all those things we talked about. Thank you for family 'votions. And pray for my sister...um...ear infection. Make...um...she get better. Pray for the.....the....the.....blelelellelel. Pray for my bed, and Kiran's bed, and mommydaddy's bed. Um........ InJesusnamewesomefing. AMEN!!"

Well. It's a start.

Clarice

The sweetest thing...

It happens quite often.


Two chubby hands joined affectionately.

Jackson Sings Happy Birthday

It was my mom's birthday last week. So Jackson sent some birthday greetings.

Filthy Little Street Urchin

Kiran's eating finger foods now. That means she has to try to get food from her tray to her mouth. Sometimes it makes it into her mouth. Most of the time she gets pretty filthy.


She's also learning how to move around. Problem is, she hasn't mastered crawling yet. So she's doing this inchworm/commando crawl. And she loves being outside at school. The ground outside doesn't get the nightly bleach applications standard of the floor inside.


That was a brand new shirt this morning.

Sometimes after we bring her home from school, we just want to throw her in the washer.


She thinks that's a funny idea too.

Clarice

Does he look like Tom Selleck?

A stunt coordinator for whom Ian has worked is coordinating an action comedy featuring Tom Selleck. Since Ian is the same height as Magnum PI, he decided to remind the coordinator that he could possibly double Mr Three Men and Baby. What do you think?



Clarice