Humans of Motherhood

In honor of Mother's Day month, we wanted to do something special to acknowledge the collective & individual efforts of mothers around the world to raise good people. Given that we are both huge Humans of New York fans (see here and here), we could think of no better tribute than to take a page from that project--except wordier because we're writers--and present some Humans of Motherhood (HOM).

Because we are. Humans and human. Sometimes we forget to give ourselves--or others--that margin. There really should be a secret handshake, a wink and a fist bump that says "hey, I think you're a great parent, despite your utter conviction some days to the contrary. Despite whatever rotten mistakes your kids make along the way. Despite the shambles of the day around your ankles. Things are going to work out. We're all in this together." (This, by the way, is taken directly from a conversation with Sarah last week.)

Here's to the circle-the-wagons, we're-all-in-this-together club of mothers around the world.

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I first met Khuld Alsayyad in junior high in Logan, Utah. Her family moved there for a few years from Iraq while her father earned his master's degree in Engineering from Utah State University. She moved away and I never heard from her again until the magic of Facebook brought us together again early this year and we've resumed our friendship. Trained as an engineer, Khuld now works as a Field Coordinator for the United Nations World Food Programme in Iraq, where she lives with her family. We were chatting yesterday and I couldn't resist asking her for permission to introduce her to you in our Humans of Motherhood series. 

Tell us about your kids. You have two girls, right?

Masar is 10--she's bright and creative. She is the smile of the house; she is our butterfly. She likes building things, doing things from nothing, from carton boxes. Kade is my older girl. She's 18 and is an angel. She's a smart, quiet person who loves music and speaks English fluently. She's fond of Korean culture--Kpop, movies episodes. I installed a satellite dish so she could see South Korean stations. Now she can talk continuously in Korean at home and can text Korean on her mobile, self taught.

What do you love about being a mom? What are your greatest challenges?

I feel so blessed--I want nothing from life, only to see them happy. They are good, obedient girls and have tolerated my not easy job where I travelled continuously from one place to another. At first I took them with me and they changed schools and friends each year. I was blessed by this job but I knew I had to sacrifice stability; my children and my man have accepted this fact and stood by me, never complained. My mother and father and siblings helped constantly. When my husband went out of the country to get a MSc in Biology, we were three years on our own. My brother came every night at 11 p.m. to sleep on our couch so we wouldn't be alone. (It's customary in our culture to not leave the women alone at night. At first I refused the idea but they said we don't want to let people think you're alone.) I am so grateful to them. They are in every breath. We're very close and now they are with me, step by step, cheering me, advising me, daily calls and visits to know how we are doing. I hope I can be a good parent like my mom and dad.

So your biggest challenge is balancing your family and your profession?

Yes, exactly. I'm also very lucky that my husband is very flexible and supportive. When I got this job, some people refused the idea, "working with foreigners" and this kind of talk. But then they saw that their kids were getting school snacks, widows getting help unemployed and displaced people were getting assistance, emergency operations launched as war fired up. I've been able to be a part of that, "an ambassador of assistance in my country," as our country director tells us. I've been very blessed and lucky with my job.  I cannot deny my man's role in all of this. He might just tell me sit home and be satisfied, I'll  bring home the bread. But instead, when I got promoted to a team leading another province, he encouraged me and said "don't refuse a promotion." He was right. I took it.

You sound like a good team. What is your family life like right now?

I've been busy working in another province, it's about 300 miles from home, giving assistance to displaced people from a province where fighting is taking place and flood affected their area. I'm home now with my kids. Masar is taking final exams now and doing excellent (I'm blessed) and Kade is preparing for her final big exams in June. She is studying continuously from morning til night with lunch and dinner breaks (God help her). She is exhausted but this is normal for good students in this grade in Iraq as exams are extremely difficult and the points she gets determine her future. So I'm praying that all this hard work from her won't go in vain. She's a good obedient smart girl. I took a leave from work to stay with her in this difficult time. She called me and said she needs me near so I'm back home cheering her up til she finishes her exams.

Passing exams is not difficult here but making an A is. You must get a 95% to make pharmacy, 96% medical, 90% engineering. To teach her at this stage at school is not good enough for her to make an A so I've been saving for some time. I sold my gold, which Iraqi women must have, to pay for her teachers. It's the least I can do. I wish there is more.

Isn't she remarkable? Thanks, Khuld, for sharing a bit of your life and heart with us. 

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We're collecting photos and interviews for some more Humans of Motherhood posts. We've got some good candidates and if you have someone you'd like to nominate or hear about, drop us a line!

Spring!

Yesterday was my first full day back from Spring Break (topped off by a short trip with Annie). It felt good to put the house in order, make a grocery list, and even run a few errands (normally I detest errand-running). Some of you are still in the throes of winter, so just know that my heart is with you. But here? In Houston? We had a high of 69 -- blue, blue skies and a gentle breeze. In the pool floats a thin layer of yellow pollen. Our red oak grew a whole set of new leaves in the week I was gone. Everything seemed fresh and clean and somehow . . . benevolent. In the favorable light of Spring, I threw back the sun roof, picked up a Sonic drink, and played the music loud. (And yes, I'm sure my kids were embarrassed by my Spring ardor.)

I racked my brain for a way to write SPRING and WIND IN MY HAIR and SUN WARMING MY FACE. But I failed, because I needed to make DINNER, and bake three loaves of banana bread, and get my house cleaned up for a church meeting. 

Also, I'm not Billy Collins. Do you think he has to make dinner?

Spring Fever (from TNYT, April 23, 2011)

Finally, it is time to observe the old ritual
of opening the windows, easily performed
without a shove from any hooded little druids
and no need for a circle of flaming stones.

Yes, the day has arrived to lift the panes
that kept the cold out and the warm in
and gave you a place to stand some days
to watch the snow in its silent descent.

But now a soft, fresh breeze rushes in,
no longer sharpened by the knives of winter
that lately pierced your face
and threatened to shatter your porcelain ears.

A blessing is this new sweet air --
the word zephyr springs to your lips --
that lifts the light curtains
and rejuvenates the room so persuasively

that the oil portrait of your grandfather
appears to be smiling down
from the confines of his heavy frame.
Even the goldfish turns in her round bowl

to face the light from the thrust-open window.
It is spring.
Crocuses break forth. The dogwood trembles.
Persephone touches the earth with her wand.

And there you stand in your blue robe
breathing in the season, filling your lungs
with every bud and blossom,
inhaling every spore and fleck of pollen

until the goldfish leaps into the air
at the sound of your thunderous sneeze.

~Billy Collins

Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful?

Yesterday, when I SHOULD have been working, I accidentally found myself reading a novel. That happens from time to time, and I'm considering seeking professional counseling over the matter. I was reading Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge, which I picked up the other night at Barnes & Noble. Guys, I should have waited. I have Amazon Prime, which means I could save myself five bucks by ordering rather than buying it on the spot. But I also have a problem with delayed gratification, so I bought it on the spot.  I wanted it mostly because the protagonist (does anyone still use the word protagonist?) lives in the little town of Crosby, Maine. You see, I have a slight Maine fantasy going on in my head -- a fantasy placed there in my adolescence by one Hawkeye Pierce. (MASH, anyone?) Also, Olive Kitteridge is a Pulitzer Prize winner (2009), so I wanted to see what the fuss was all about.

The Pulitzer Prize citation pages says that Oliver Kitteridge packs a "cumulative emotional wallop." And really? I'd whole-heartedly agree. The book is actually comprised of a series of short stories, all set around the same characters in idyllic Crosby, Maine. Most of the action, however, swirls around Olive, and as she approaches her 70s the narrator reflects on a long-ago played soccer game:

There was beauty to that autumn air, and the sweaty young bodies that had mud on their legs, strong young men who would throw themselves forward to have the ball smack against their foreheads; the cheering when a goal was scored, the goalie sinking to his knees. There were days--she could remember this--when Henry would hold her hand as they walked home, middled-aged people, in their prime. Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful? Most likely not. People mostly did not know enough when they were living life that they were living it. But she had that memory now, of something healthy and pure.

I was so struck by this. Am I in my prime? Is this the best it will ever be? I felt both suspiciously proud and slightly terrified. But even more importantly, I knew that these are the moments to be quietly joyful. Yesterday, when the four of us were in the dark car on the way home from Church, and we stopped at Sonic at 9:00 pm for drinks, and the radio played softly in the background while we laughed at Rebecca's joke, I thought to myself, Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful?

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See a list of Pulitzer Prize winners in fiction here. 

A few good gems

I think there should be a law against having school the day after Halloween. Or, at the very least, it should be a late start day. 10 AM would work for me. Let's start a petition! Have a sit in! Cry in the principal's office! Who's with me? 

In the glass half full part of my brain, I'm extremely grateful today is Friday. Let's all try to take it easy this weekend, shall we? And here, are a few good gems to read while lying a-bed: 

via Sally's Baking Addiction

My SIL Debbie tried these Favorite Pumpkin Oatmeal Cookies by Sally's Baking Addiction and reports the recipe is a keeper. In this era of fabulous, gooey cookie pictures, a personally baked and tested recipe is pure gold. (Don't even ask about the pumpkin spice cake crunch bars I tried this week. I shudder in memory!)

One thing I LOVE about blogging is the platform to put a beautiful cookie pic and recipe right smack next to an article by bell hooks. Do you guys know bell hooks? She's a prominent scholar and activist who writes about gender, class, and racial inequality. [Note: she doesn't capitalize her name (which is a nom de plume) because she wants focus directed at her work and not her person.] This article is bell hooks' commentary on Sheryl Sandburg's claim to feminism in her book, Lean In. Essentially, hooks emphasizes that Sandberg's message is about a small, privileged group of white women working within current oppressive and damaging ideologies -- that it's a falsity that all women really need to succeed is a little focus, a little leaning in. Just recently I've been rereading hooks and what she has to say about the role of home in providing safe places of political resistance. She is GOOD. [If you are interested in further reading this book is good. And this one.]
 
Have you guys seen Scoutmob? Normally I'm not much of a shopper, but the nonshopper in me gets a particular thrill from ordering up Christmas online, in my pajamas, with bedhead.  Scoutmob is billed as "inspired goods by independent makers," and it's just a huge treasure trove of great design and clever products.

I'll take a moustache print, please. 

I love this print of Houston -- lots of cities available. 

And how many of you can identify this quote? 50 points for a correct answer. 

Check out Indiebound.org both to support local, independent booksellers and for great book recommendations on their Indie Next List. I'm prone to only linking to Amazon (Look! I did it in my bell hooks link!) but I'm going to sign up at Indiebound and work on linking to my local peops. Nothing I like better than the Shop Around the Corner. Reference anyone?

We have a cold front blowing through in a day or two (yippee!) and I'm going to stir up a pot of this. Wish you could join me! 

That's it folks! Have a fab weekend! And many thanks to Debbie for brainstorming links with me on Halloween night (while watching old episodes of The X Files.)

Getting carded: The holiday card post

Confession: I love holiday cards. Truly, madly deeply adore the whole shebang. I love creating them, writing them, love finding them in the mailbox, reading them and, yes, love being entertained by them at times when they get out of hand in the braggery or too-much-information department. I know some people are a bit ambivalent about holiday cards (too much hassle, too expensive, social media alternatives) but I am not one of them. I am firmly in the pro-card column.

The ideal holiday card for me is a little funny, a little original, something that captures the family's spirit and gives a little news. Pictures, please, preferably of the whole family, not just your kids. It doesn't have to pricey or fancy, though. 

Our cards have run the gamut.  Some years we just managed to take a photobooth shot and stick it to some paper, too late even to find any red or green paper to use:

Christmas 2007

Other years we used the cheesy roller coaster photo from our vacation. It still makes me laugh. It was a completely unstaged keeper: 

Christmas 2004

But sometimes, when I have time to let my mind run wild, I like coming up with something a bit different, like this library book slip format we tucked into a photo card:

Christmas 2010

I've been moseying around the internet looking for some card inspiration lately.  We haven't had professional photos taken this year so I know we'll be going with a more home grown approach so I've been collecting good ideas. Here are some trends and ideas I've collected that I thought you might like, too: 

I love the originality of this stacked box idea. They did their individual and some group shots each taken in one box and then used photo editing to make the 4x4 cube. Of course, this could also be the way to do that Brady Bunch card of your dreams:

I also love a photo with personality. This book shot is great: 

Someday we're going to do an outdoor window shot. I mean, I might have to locate a a french provincial mansion owner who won't mind an impromptu photo shoot but it's Going To Happen. 

I really like the infographic design trend. Such a perfect way to get a lot of information on one card. (Judging from how many versions of this you can find on Pinterest, lots of other people like it, too!)

by Amanda Jane Jones

I can see many fun ways to incorporate this idea of using thought bubbles as backgrounds for a photo on a card: 

Here's a twist on the photo card. What about a photo envelope?

If you use Instagram (or just have a representative shot from every month) I really like this simple layout. Sorry; the link was broken but it looks like photo/idea credit goes to Little Deer:

Looking for more inspiration? I love this article from an old issue of Smithsonian magazine, exhibiting artists' Christmas cards over the years. Lots of great ideas and creativity there. 

And what to do with all those cards after the holidays? What about this idea: take a phone photo of your friends' cards and make it their contact photo on your phone.

. . . 

Okay, now. You get the idea.
How 'bout you? What's your card philosophy?
Your favorite card you've sent or received? 

A few good gems

Venus's lovely path over a year's worth of still photos. Summer solstice is on top, winter at the bottom and equinox where they cross.  Via

A few things to tickle your brain and/or your fancy this weekend:

- Malala Yousafzai, you are extraordinary. (Extended, unedited Jon Stewart interview here. BBC Interview here. Interview in The Atlantic here. Her speech to the UN here.) 

-The London Symphony Orchestra just created a new interactive online video experience where you can watch the orchestra play Ravel's Bolero (and I imagine they'll update this now and then with different pieces), interact with different camera angles and discover more about the musicians and instruments. Also? There are masterclasses on selected instruments and on Ravel.  Brilliant. Try it here. Created by the folks at Sennep. (Thanks, Swiss Miss.)

- This is a very cool, one page giant 2014 planner by Present and Correct. (Thanks, Pinterest.)

 -I Was Not a Pretty Child (by Hannah Dale Thompson), a poignant essay on growing into yourself and how "beauty, a word I am very hesitant to use self-referentially," she says, "is a terrible drug" (via Longreads). 

-Grammar geek humor! Kudos to Kind of Sketchy's Grammar Pirate comic strip.

-Speaking of grammar, how attached are you to the apostrophe? 

-Loved Christina Vanko's Modern Day Snail Mail project. After finding the pen of her dreams (her dad's old calligraphy pen), she decided to send only handwritten text messages to people for a week. (Thanks yet again, Swiss Miss!) 

 -I'm pretty excited about the partnership between the Paper app (by FiftyThree) and Moleskine. Oh, the book-making possibilities. Check it out!

I'm digging this Read Instead poster from BOOK/SHOP. If I don't order it, this just might be my next art project--it's no string art (loved that, Sarah) but it's a baby step in the right direction. (Thanks, Cup of Jo.)

- Dumbo Feather is one of my (many) favorite Aussie finds. It's a fantastic publication (both online and print) that lives up to its tagline: conversations with extraordinary people.  Every one of their thoughtful interviews inspires me and the magazine itself is an honest-to-goodness design treasure. Maira Kalman, Brene Brown, Maria Popova (this issue, not yet online), Alain de Botton--just a few to get you started. 

-We've been traveling a bit these last couple of weeks since it's been our spring school holidays here. I'm looking forward to cozying up in my own house this weekend and doing more nesting, less launching. I think we're going to try these Avocado Cream and Chicken Suiza Enchiladas.  And in the tried-and-true category, I can attest to the deliciousness of these Apple Brie Tarts. Even my picky brie-cheese-hater loved them. 

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Climbed a mountain and I turned around

How to Climb a Mountain

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical. 
 Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,
 but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will
 coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,
 a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful. Mostly, though,
 a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache
 perforating your calves. This is called work, what you will come to know,
 eventually and simply, as movement, as all the evidence you need to make
 your way. Forget where you were. That story is no longer true.
 Level your gaze to the trail you're on, and even the dark won't stop you.

Maya Stein

 . . .

Over the last few months I've fallen in love with hiking. Who knew? I love the solitary climb, the burn as I push myself up the hill, the crunch of gravel underfoot. My barnacled thoughts loosen as I go and I can leave my unnecessary, unhelpful worries up on the trail as an offering at the altar of the day. Up there at the peak of a strenuous climb I feel clearer, my brain scrubbed clean, ready for what matters. 

Another truth follows, though: then I come down.  

Ugh. Yes, sometimes the summit clarity stays with me and holds me over until next time. But often the buzz wears off quickly. After recently launching Lauren on her mission--the latest big figurative mountain I climbed--I've been feeling it this week, the inevitable, predictable post-summit valley. (As I did after our moves. And when L. left for university the first time. And after the holidays every year. And after back-to-school rush. And after the thrill of a fun vacation.) The thing about launching is--if you do it right, then they're gone. (Come on, sing with me now...climbed a mountain and I turned around...then the landside brought me down.  I'm pretty much the poster girl for that song these days. That and the Fiddler on the Roof song about sunrises and sunsets.)

Then I remember this wisdom, discovered a couple of years ago and put to good use ever since:

"You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know"  (Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue).

I'm still figuring out what that means for me, exactly, and how to conduct myself in the valleys. Remembering and knowing is a good start. And new mountains. But first I think I'll take a long bath and indulge in some cinema therapy.

Here's to you and your mountains--to the grit and vistas and the descent and even the occasional landslides.

. . . 

p.s. Speaking of hiking:  In praise of America's parklands and encouraging Congress take a hike.