Viva La Colombia

I'll take mine with a side of Guilt, please

I love that Nicolas is practically a genius.  He can hum tunes he's only just heard with amazing clarity.  He can recite entire books without any help at all. 

And . . .

He can make you feel like a complete piece of shit without even trying. 

To wit:  The morning after Halloween, Nicolas (in a stunt of nothing less than cunning stealth) slipped past me and into the garage carrying his Incredible Hulk mask.  Because, apparently, wearing it the first three days before Halloween wasn't enough.  Having been informed by the daycare that the aforementioned mask was the center of considerable strife within the ranks, I told Nicolas that the mask had to stay at home, but that he was welcome to wear it after school and for the rest of the night. 

And in an Oscar-worthy, yet surprisingly subtle number ala the Death Scene in Romeo and Juliet, Nicolas let out a muffled sigh, allowed the mask to slip ever-so-graciously from his grasp and murmured, "Oh well, I guess . . . I'm not special." 

Oh, yes he did.

Shudra Revolution

In India now . . .

Okay, so I finally got a chance to wander outside of the hotel and the office on Saturday!  I tried to upload some photographs, but was only partially successful because the bandwidth here is quite limited.  I promise to upload more as soon as I return home Monday.

I should first explain that our hotel is the a "good" part of Bombay.  The suburb name is Powaii and is only recently been built up as a part of office complex development and high rise development.  Good is a relative word here, since the poverty right outside my hotel is painfully clear.  The hotel complex is heavily guarded; no one guests in who is not a guest and guests NEVER leave the hotel on foot.  There isn't even a path to leave the hotel on foot -- only by car. 

Well, yesterday I left t he hotel on foot to explore the surrounding neighborhood.  I consider myself fairly well-traveled and not easily rattled; but, I have to say that I have never been more shocked than I was by my little excursion outside of the hotel.  I may as well have been from Mars -- the neighborhood occupants stared at me as though I were some sort of crazy person venturing into their neighborhood.  The women were friendly and smiled very sweetly.  I was even able to photograph a few  of them.  The children were hilarious!  They followed me around, whispering to themselves, I suspect, about my possible origin and clearly questionable mental state.  The men, well, they were just as shocked as anybody else and stared, too.  Although they appeared to be more offended than anything.

Although I'm sure that most of them have seen Americans before, perhaps they haven't seen one that glows in the dark, like I do. 

Yesterday, some of my co-workers took me to an orphanage outside of Mumbai that takes in street children.  There were approximately 20 boys who range in ages 5-17 there.  I got photographs of them and they were incredible.  One of the boys is 17 and is so smart!  He desperately wants to be an engineer.  Presently, our company sponsors this orphanage to ensure that the children are well-fed and clothed.  However, the orphanage does not have the financial resources to send all the children to school.  It's still unclear whether the young man will be able to go to University or will be turned out into the street when he reaches 18. 

The orphanage was extremely emotional for me.  I did lose it for a few minutes and started crying.  If even for a second I think about my own boys growing up in similar circumstances, my heart breaks.  The young man who wants to be an engineer stood up as we were leaving and in perfect English said an amazing "thank you" from the children.  I asked the boys what I could bring them next time:  candy? chocolate? clothes?  They all looked at me blankly and said, "nothing, we have everything here."  They have none of the material advantages in life, and yet, they are very happy with their circumstance. 

At the end, one boy relented after I pushed some more and finally asked if I could bring a few notebooks so that he could study more.  If that doesn't break your heart, then nothing will.  These boys now have a very special place in my heart.  Every trip that I make to Bombay, I have promised them that I will visit.  Despite the fact that they didn't ask for anything, I plan to bring some notebooks, pens and tennis shoes the next time I visit.  Perhaps even a DVD or two.  They bestowed upon me a card which said, "thank you, didi Earin." They did their best to spell my name right, but the meaningful part of the card is "didi", which means "sister" in Hindi. 

The orphanage visit has humbled me beyond belief.  Out of dire circumstances these children have forged a brotherhood among each other.  They have made the best out of their meager circumstances and created a family.  They have genuine affection for one another and all of them interestingly aspire to be professional cricket players! 

It's difficult to find a way to end this post, Bombay is beautiful city with much to offer, but I have seen and experienced things in this short visit that have changed me forever.

Okay, so I finally got a chance to wander outside of the hotel and the office on Saturday!  I tried to upload some photographs, but was only partially successful because the bandwidth here is quite limited.  I promise to upload more as soon as I return home Monday.

I should first explain that our hotel is the a "good" part of Bombay.  The suburb name is Powaii and is only recently been built up as a part of office complex development and high rise development.  Good is a relative word here, since the poverty right outside my hotel is painfully clear.  The hotel complex is heavily guarded; no one guests in who is not a guest and guests NEVER leave the hotel on foot.  There isn't even a path to leave the hotel on foot -- only by car. 

Well, yesterday I left t he hotel on foot to explore the surrounding neighborhood.  I consider myself fairly well-traveled and not easily rattled; but, I have to say that I have never been more shocked than I was by my little excursion outside of the hotel.  I may as well have been from Mars -- the neighborhood occupants stared at me as though I were some sort of crazy person venturing into their neighborhood.  The women were friendly and smiled very sweetly.  I was even able to photograph a few  of them.  The children were hilarious!  They followed me around, whispering to themselves, I suspect, about my possible origin and clearly questionable mental state.  The men, well, they were just as shocked as anybody else and stared, too.  Although they appeared to be more offended than anything.

Although I'm sure that most of them have seen Americans before, perhaps they haven't seen one that glows in the dark, like I do. 

Yesterday, some of my co-workers took me to an orphanage outside of Mumbai that takes in street children.  There were approximately 20 boys who range in ages 5-17 there.  I got photographs of them and they were incredible.  One of the boys is 17 and is so smart!  He desperately wants to be an engineer.  Presently, our company sponsors this orphanage to ensure that the children are well-fed and clothed.  However, the orphanage does not have the financial resources to send all the children to school.  It's still unclear whether the young man will be able to go to University or will be turned out into the street when he reaches 18. 

The orphanage was extremely emotional for me.  I did lose it for a few minutes and started crying.  If even for a second I think about my own boys growing up in similar circumstances, my heart breaks.  The young man who wants to be an engineer stood up as we were leaving and in perfect English said an amazing "thank you" from the children.  I asked the boys what I could bring them next time:  candy? chocolate? clothes?  They all looked at me blankly and said, "nothing, we have everything here."  They have none of the material advantages in life, and yet, they are very happy with their circumstance. 

At the end, one boy relented after I pushed some more and finally asked if I could bring a few notebooks so that he could study more.  If that doesn't break your heart, then nothing will.  These boys now have a very special place in my heart.  Every trip that I make to Bombay, I have promised them that I will visit.  Despite the fact that they didn't ask for anything, I plan to bring some notebooks, pens and tennis shoes the next time I visit.  Perhaps even a DVD or two.  They bestowed upon me a card which said, "thank you, didi Earin." They did their best to spell my name right, but the meaningful part of the card is "didi", which means "sister" in Hindi. 

The orphanage visit has humbled me beyond belief.  Out of dire circumstances these children have forged a brotherhood among each other.  They have made the best out of their meager circumstances and created a family.  They have genuine affection for one another and all of them interestingly aspire to be professional cricket players! 

It's difficult to find a way to end this post, Bombay is beautiful city with much to offer, but I have seen and experienced things in this short visit that have changed me forever.

A Room with a View

I know that I owe everyone a lot of posts to catch up to speed as to what's been going on with my life.  Since that sounds a little overwhelming at the moment, I'll start first with the most recent thing and try to work my way backwards.  I'm nothing, if not the pillar of logical data distribution. 

I look back at the posts from February and it's hard to believe how sad I was.  The job search was grueling.  Work at the firm was kicking my ass.  And we were poor.  The good news is that I have finally! found! my dream job.  Believe it or not, it's not teaching.  I am now the knight of death for new American lawyers.  That's right, I am a manager at a legal process outsourcing firm. 

On days that I'm not traveling, I work at home.  They're paying me twice what I was getting paid at the firm.  And they're paying me to travel to cool places, like New York, Los Angeles, London and Mumbai.  Oh sure, every once in a while they throw a trip to Tulsa in there, but for the most part, it's a great gig.  Thus far, I feel like I haven't really done anything, but they claim to be very impressed by my "productivity."  Ahem.  I haven't done anything. 

Suckers. 

Proof of Life

I am neither dead, nor have been kidnapped by a remote tribe and made their goddess. 

In the past six months (holy shit, it's been a long time!) I have changed jobs twice, visited the ER no less than four times with little boys hellbent on destruction and submitted my bid for president.  Okay, so not so much with the last part, but the other two are accurate.

I promise a more substantial post soon, and my apologies goes out to those of you that still continuing checking up on me.  You deserve better, but I'm glad you stuck with me.  More to come.  Here's my proof of life: 

and here's how I let my kid dress, because I'm that kind of mother:

Short, Dark and Handsome

Nicolas and his pal, William, are the only two boys in his daycare class.  The rest of the class is comprised entirely of blond-haired, blue-eyed hussies, disguised as angelic little girls. 

Exhibit A: 

As I walk Nicolas into daycare this morning, I see Hussy No. 1 (aka "Riley").  Wherein, I exclaim: "Nicolas, look, it's your pal, Riley.  Say 'good morning.' "

Riley:  "Nico's not my pal.  He's my boyfriend."  As she throws her arms around him and drags him over to the play kitchen. 

I say Riley needs to watch a little less MTV and spend little bit more time reflecting on how the baby jesus in the manger would feel about that.  Amen. Hallelujah. Ricky Bobby.

Little Hussy. 

The Question to end all Questions

"Mom, why do girls have two butts?" 

I'll let you all ponder that and get back to me.  I need an answer by the end of the day, lest my child be stuck in infinite quandry over the state of female anatomy. 

Cowboy Up

Because everybody needs a little country:

I'm here. I'm fine.  I'm a lazy blogger. 

The good news is that I was able to see an endo specialist in the area and she has agreed to do a lap and possible hysterectomy, if necessary.  There are days when my broken girly parts don't bother me so much and I think, "oh, this isn't so bad, you big wimp." 

And then there are days where I would gouge out the whole works with a rusty spoon if I could. 

In this past two years, the bad days out number the good days and, frankly, I'd like for the whole works to just be over.  Therefore, I have a date with a not-rusty scalpel next Friday.  On the upside, I plan on fully maximizing my access to pain-killing narcotics while I have a legitimate excuse to lounge about in bed with a remote. 

Turning point

There have been a few times in my life when I sincerely knew that I was depressed.  The summer of my 25th birthday comes to  mind.  Otherwise known as, "the summer of My Discontent."  I had lost my job because I wouldn't let my boss touch my ass (we later settled out of court and it paid for a good chunk of my law school tuition that year), I broke up with my fiance and had just purchased a house that I couldn't afford.  If it hadn't been for the fact that I could never devastate my family with a suicide, I was emotionally in the hole enough to consider it.  That fall, I started law school and things eventually got better.

Before I go any further, let me unequivocally state for the record:  I would never, ever, ever consider suicide.  Although simply falling asleep for a really long time sounds really attractive sometimes, I would never leave my babies. 

Okay, with that being said, I'm presently feeling some of the same emotions I remember feeling that summer:  withdrawn, lonely, desperate for things to get better.  I don't think that any one thing will solve my problems or how I'm feeling, because there are so many factors that are contributing. 

First, I have to do something about pain management.  Recently, it's come to my attention that the copious amount of ibuprofen I've been taking are ruining my stomach.  I've tried to see a doctor about it, but as predicted, her answer was to simply write me a scrip for birth control pills and shoo me out the door in less than three minutes.  I am so sick of medical doctors. 

Second, the job hunt has me down.  'Nuff said. 

Third, I feel like a total failure at home.  I can't keep up with the laundry, the dishes or even thank-you cards.  I haven't written a bona fide thank-you card in months and there have been many occasions where it was mostly certainly required. 

On the weekends, I don't want to get out of bed.  On weekdays, it takes me hours to accomplish simple tasks. 

At what point do you determine that this is simply a blue day or blue week and hope for the best?  At what point do you determine that it's a problem that you need help for?

The other part of the problem is that I feel like my profession really makes it impossible for me to admit vulnerability.  Pragmatism and good judgment are supposed to be my bread and butter.  If I can't accomplish those two things in my own life how can I counsel people to do so in their lives? 

Voila

Well, the Big News as referred to in yesterday's post was indeed, as pointed out by my good friend, DD, a new job and possible move. 

Recently, I did some work for a company that does the type of work that my husband does.  To make a long story short, B was offered a job at that company for significantly more pay.  Unfortunately, the job is in another town in the middle of No Where (a/k/a Where the Buffalo Roam.)  Coincidently, I attended a deposition with a fellow law school grad wherein I explained the circumstances surrounding B's employment opportunity.  To make a longer story shorter, I was offered a position at her firm in the same town as B's potential employer for significantly more money. 

Did I mention the location of these dream jobs is less-than-ideal?  When you look at the real estate listings for this town words like, "tundra," "vast open spaces" and "enjoy life with no neighbors!" are a repeating theme. 

Alas, I will be turning down the dream job this afternoon and will continue to plant my Sorry Ass in the same green chair every morning. 

The thing is that I love our house.  Our boys love our house.  It is my dream house.  It is my dream neighborhood.  We got a great deal on a great house in a great neighborhood in the perfect school district.  How often does that happen?  Once a lifetime? 

Then there were the side benefits to staying:  (1) Nico's best pal, William, lives down the street from us and I have this crazy dream that they will grow up together, go to medical school and open up a joint medical practice.  SHUT UP.  It could totally happen.  (2) William's little brother, Gavin, is the same age as Michael, so if William and Nicolas don't fulfill my joint medical practice dream, then Gavin and Michael will pull through.  (3)  Our in-laws live only a few miles away and have a huge farm with animals and all sorts of cool stuff that makes childhood fun.  Nicolas, especially, loves going to the farm and looks forward to it every weekend. 

Sure, we don't have a lot of money now, but we're not unhappy.  We're not starving.  Besides, what would we do with the money?  Buy more stuff?  Aside from the Diet Coke, I'm quite happy going without stuff. 

Oh, and about the Diet Coke:  I officially went without buying it for six months and I'm over it.  I cannot live with Diet Coke.  I'm a weak, weak woman.