For God's Sake, Someone Call Child Services

I just don't know what bothers me more about this video. The crazy desi parents yelling at their kid or the rabidly liberal two year old.



My mom has repeatedly bragged to me that when I was two years old, I walked up to a random person at the grocery store and asked, "Do you know who Idi Amin is? Faiqa does."

I'm thinking that a dining table scene similar to the above YouTube clip occurred in my home prior to the Idi Amin incident.

I don't know which is more tragic: that my mom is proud of that or that I actually have an "Idi Amin incident" in my life.

And thanks to Hadji is Dead for bringing up this painful flashback from my childhood.

Family Photo

This photo of my dad's family (I wrote about them in the last post) predates the partition of India and was taken in Malerkotla, a Punjabi state that my family, ahem, er, this is awkward, ruled for about three centuries.

Far right, my grandfather. Grandmother in the middle and the two ladies on the far left are my father's half sisters. My grandfather's first wife died of TB, I think. The child on the far right is my dad, far left is his brother.

My father is the only person in this photo who is still alive. I wonder how that must feel for him.

I feel lucky to even have it. You know, maybe since I have it and others like it, the quest to instill a little sense of family history in my progeny won't be a total failure? Heh, I know you love how I worked the word progeny in there.

Incidentally, Eid ul-Fitr is on Tuesday or Wednesday and marks the end of Ramadhan.

So, go wish all your Muslim friends "Eid Mubarek."

What do you mean you don't have any Muslim friends?

Mommy Lessons 34,612 and 34,613

Mommy Lesson #34,612: Icing without cake is just icing.

A definition...

Outgoing: extroverted, talkative, or sociable

I submit that there are times when a Mr. (or Ms.) Outgoing  can turn out to be a lowdown, backstabbing Class A jerk. That is, there are a lot of people in this world who've got lots icing, but no cakey goodness inside.  IOW, good personality, but bad values or ethics.

(Oh, you don't know anybody like that?  Maybe you haven't looked hard enough?  Think.) 

(Still no?)  

(This is awkwaaaard.)

(Because I'm probably talking about you.)

Extrovert or introvert is icing.  What constitutes cakey goodness?  Compassion, kindness, respect.  Stuff like that.  You know, values.

Before I became a mother, I had a vision of the perfect child.  

Outgoing, a risk taker yet very obedient, popular and friendly, talkative, charming, confident, strong, aggressive when she needed to be but extremely compassionate, intelligent, a fighter, a winner, the list goes on and on.

Three years later, I'm beginning to think that people who are overly invested in visions are either messengers of God or just clinically insane.  

My daughter, N., has a lot of the qualities that I dreamed of in that original vision, but not all of them. (You can read more about her personality and my opinions regarding it on the post, Shy Kid.) 

Oh, I know she may change dramatically, and I understand that she's only three.  But, know what?

I don't care if she stays exactly the same. (Well, I could do without the feet stomping that occurs following a negative response to "Can I have Teddy Grahams for dinner?").  

I love her because of  her quiet ways, her discernment, and her reserved manner in the company of whomever she deems an outsider.  And please notice that I didn't say, "I love her, anyway."  

Because there's nothing wrong with the kid who doesn't hug strangers or the kid who still won't hug you after she's met you five times.  Extroverts don't hold superiority over introverts. A talkative risk taker is no better than a reflective thinker.  Talkative and reflective, after all, are descriptions which are generally independent of ethics, values and morals.

I've thought very hard about my original "I want this kind of kid" wish list today, the day after I've withdrawn N. from preschool because of three weeks of non-stop crying. 

A lot of books and a lot of people said she would cry because of separation anxiety.  That she would stop about twenty minutes after I left.  Well, she didn't stop.  She cried.  And cried, and cried.  Some of you might offer one of the following nuggets of wisdom:

  

I'm not doing her any good by coddling her, she has to learn to work this stuff out on her own.

She's never going to learn how to be social if I don't put her in social situations.

Children learn when they're pushed.

Change is always uncomfortable.  

Well, "some of you" can just zip it and mind your own business.  The rest of you can keep reading.

I know, in my heart, that my daughter's crying wasn't normal separation anxiety.  It was a meaningful attempt on her part to tell me and anyone else who was willing to listen that she is not ready for this.  

Mommy Lesson #34,613: No PhD, M.D., other kid's parent, friend or teacher should hold veto power over one's feelings about what's best for their own child.

N. told me,  I'm not ready, Mama. (Yeah, she calls me Mama, how precious is that?!)

I hear you, N., I hear you.  You're not ready.  That's fine.  I'm not ashamed of you for not being ready, and you don't have to be ashamed either.

Another definition...

Respect: due regard for the feelings and desires of others.

Now that's some seriously delicious cakey goodness.

'Playing Russian Roulette': How One New Orleanian Copes With the Threat of Hurricanes

Written By: Traci, or is it Jill...Whatever.

I’ve lived in and around New Orleans for 7 years now, and I've got a deep love-hate relationship with the city that I think is common of most New Orleanians. Yes, I think of myself as a New Orleanian. I teach 4th grade and work with other teachers on staff development in a local parish.

To me, New Orleans is completely unique. All at once, it embodies France, Spain, America, and a third world country. It holds a deep history and an overwhelming culture. Still, there's always a sadness that permeates even the biggest of celebrations. This celebration of the macabre and life in its entirety within New Orleans makes it very difficult for me to feel comfortable in any other city or environment.

New Orleans reminds me of that dysfunctional child with whom you get frustrated for not making good decisions or being like other children. But another part of me loves that child even more because of the difficulties they face, especially when I understand that they need more than a "normal" child.

During Hurricane Katrina, I evacuated to Florida with my dogs, while my husband had to stay behind to work in a local hospital. I spent the next 7 days glued to the television in disbelief of what was happening in my city. When I first moved there, I heard that the levees would not hold in the event of a major hurricane. I couldn’t believe that this was a known problem and nothing had been done. Surely, we had the ability in the 21^st Century to repair levees so that they would hold?

Apparently, the city and state had sought funding to strengthen the levees but were repeatedly denied the funding. Ironically, our state received no profits from the oil companies that drilled off our coast. Many scientists have argued that this same drilling contributed to the destruction of the wetlands and barrier islands surrounding us that would have protected us from hurricanes like Katrina. Texas and Alaska receive large profits from the oil drilling that occurs off of their shores, but I digress.

When I left, I had taken comfort in the thought that FEMA, the Red Cross, and many other organizations were stationed right outside the city, and stood ready to aid as soon as the storm passed. To them, I guess, "soon" meant about 7 days. I lost tremendous belief in our government as I watched our city swirl in despair. This wasn't an unpredictable earthquake or a surprise terrorist attack. Hurricane Katrina was an event everyone knew was coming and the possible repercussions of it were known well in advance, too.

I also lost the hope and comfort that are the rights of every U.S citizen. I arrogantly believed that our country would save us from any peril that could strike. That we were rich enough, strong enough, and certainly capable enough to conquer the worst of disasters. A predictable category II hurricane took those beliefs away from me. I will never understand how we could be in Thailand after a tsunami within less than 24 hours whereas it took five days for our National Guard to arrive in New Orleans. Nor can I understand how Canada’s National Guard managed to arrive in St. Bernard for hospital evacuations several days before our own guard arrived in the city.

I’ve come to accept that living in New Orleans means that evacuation can and will be a part of my life. I know many people that lost everything they own and I’m okay with losing all of the possessions that I deem not worthy enough to fit into my car. I’m not okay, though, with leaving the lives of people that I love in the hands of the federal, state, and local government.

I was in a busy fog and not relating Gustav to Katrina until a fellow teacher gave me a big hug on our last school day before the storm. That's when it hit hard. I remembered the many people and students I never saw again after Katrina. A deep panic set in for my students.

As they left, I tried to tell them everything would be fine, I loved them, I’d see them on Tuesday and they’d better know their times tables. I guess that’s my way of instilling a sense of normalcy in my children that I think they needed. As we waited for the storm, I feared for people I knew that talked about staying. I feared for the children that have to rely on their parent’s judgment for safety.

There is no question that Gustav has been handled better, and I’m very happy to see we have learned from our mistakes. Our current governor, Bobby Jindal, did an amazing job orchestrating a major evacuation. I disagree with many of his policies, but can't deny that he's extremely intelligent and a great leader. Although I think it was as stupid mistake on McCain's part, I’m happy he overlooked Jindal as Vice President. This way, we can keep him a little longer. Our local leaders had detailed plans in place and acted swiftly and calmly, too. Mayor Nagin was able to salvage some of his reputation, and at least this time President Bush looked concerned bunkered down in Texas instead of flying off to San Diego as he did last time.

I felt a million times better in how it was handled this time. I contribute a large part of the success to our state governor. He was very proactive. Still, the threat looms. Three years later, our levees remain at “Pre-Katrina” levels which means a Katrina type storm could still take us out. To me, God has given us plenty of time to get our act together, but our city remains threatened by the day it will sit in ten feet of water. I think a lot of the rest of the nation are tired of hearing about us. A part of me can understand their perspective, as unenlightened as it may be.

My biggest problem is the levees that still aren’t up to standard. Gustav lost strength, so the outcome turned out well. What about the next hurricane, though? The levees are built by the Army Corp of Engineers and most of that money comes from the federal government. And, frankly, I have a problem with them. Once our levees are built up to standard, then we won’t need any more "support."

At this point, I continue to feel like we're playing Russian roulette every time a hurricane comes close to us.

** As of the posting of this entry, Hurricane Ike, a category II with 105 mph winds is headed towards the Gulf of Mexico.

Rocked Me Like A Hurricane

Running a refugee camp is pretty easy. Oops, I didn't mean refugee, I meant evacuee camp.

The earlier part of this week, my home served as shelter to four wayward New Orleanians fleeing from Gustav. My evacuees were my brother, his very lovely wife (let's call them Jack and Jill since they're painfully old fashioned and think someone will stalk them to death if I put their names on the Internet) and their two very crazy dogs.

It was awesome!! We watched CNN all day. When they weren't trying to pretend to stay calm as water pushed over levee walls, we founded a country called "Liberalistan" in my living room and proceeded to reenact the perfect Democratic National Convention.

Jill pretended she was Hillary, Jack pretended to be Obama, and they had a wrestling match where Hil won and Obama cried like a little girl. Tariq pretended he was Bobby Jindal announcing that he had finally decided to become a Democrat, and I got to be Soledad O'Brien.

My daughter watched us intently and I'm pretty sure I saw the realization wash over her three year old face that she didn't have a fighting chance at a normal life.

Last time, Jack and Jill evacuated New Orleans, though, we didn't have so much fun.

Three years ago, with a week old baby in my arms, a father in the hospital from a triple bypass surgery, and a house full of in-laws, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a little hurricane named Katrina was tap dancing her way through the Atlantic.

I was raised in Florida, so hurricanes don't really inspire much fear in me. In fact, my general feelings about hurricanes center around disappointment. Here's how almost every single hurricane from my childhood played out:

Everyone: A hurricane is coming, a hurricane is coming. Sandbags, water, peanut butter, oh my!

Me: Sweet. I don't have to go to school. No Algebra (which should really have been called, "Let's tear Faiqa's self esteem down by making her feel like the biggest idiot in the world")?

Everyone: Oh, thank goodness, the hurricane turned. It's going to North Carolina instead.

Me: Kids in North Carolina are so lucky.

As Katrina edged its way towards New Orleans, though, Jill called and told me that she was evacuating the city. Jack would not be accompanying her immediately because he's a doctor and his hospital wouldn't let him to leave.

The hurricane finally hit and you're well aware of what happened to the city after that.

No phones, electricity or a way to leave the city translated into days that rolled by where we didn't hear from Jack. Twenty four hour news stations, also known as crack rock for the anxious, did nothing to assure anyone in my family of his safety.

Bodies floated through the streets of New Orleans and I pushed the worst thoughts about Jack's situation out of my head. For days, all that would come out of my mouth was, "This is America. This isn't supposed to happen here." But, it did happen here.

I will never really know the details of what happened in New Orleans that August. And I still can't imagine how it must have felt to lose your home, your pet or even your family to something as seemingly innocuous as weather.

But, I know what I felt. I felt angry because I had watched over my younger brother all my life. Now, the people "in charge" had failed me, Jill, my parents and everyone who loved him so much. Worse, I felt humiliated because I had arrogantly thought that we were better than this. That we were better than them over there.

About a week later, I watched my brother sleep off his Katrina hangover on my sofa, with my daughter sleeping peacefully upon his chest. I had never loved him more than I did at that moment. He was home, he was safe, and it was over.

I don't think it will ever be over for Jack and Jill, though. I remember them having a lot more faith in people before Katrina. Sometimes, when we talk of politics or society, I'll hear them say something that reminds me that a great deal of their faith in the goodness of people probably drowned in the flooded streets of New Orleans three years ago.

Now, if you ask Jack how he likes New Orleans, I swear you could see a shadow flit across his face before he answers. I suppose he's experiencing a sense of pain, loss or despair in that moment. The truth is, I don't know what lives in that shadow, and I can only make far reaching guesses.

The shadow does show me how Katrina still bears heavy upon the hearts of the people who lived it. And that it's not going to lighten up anytime soon.

** My sister-in-law, seven year resident of New Orleans, a former Katrina and Gustav evacuee, and all around awesome person will be guest posting on this topic on Monday, so be sure to come back!!