shokufeh is…home

I’m suddenly realizing almost two weeks has passed since my last entry. So much for keeping my parents abreast of things while they’re on the other side of the world. I’d like to blame it on my father’s return. And Twitter. And life in general.

But in an attempt to give my mother some information as she galavants in China, I will share some things that MrMan’s been saying, which tickle me:

• I love it! - applied to various things, including a pink and brown pair of Dora sneakers in the store the other day. He kept coming back to that particular pair of shoes, in the girls’ aisle, picking them up and sharing, “I love them!” Despite his affection, we did not come home with them.
• I want that. - usually in relation to food, sometimes other things, often accompanied by a pointing finger.
• Yes. - as opposed to yeah, which was super cute from its inception. But I really like this more definitive and polite form of the affirmative.
• Bless you. - to those who sneeze
• I said please. - often accompanied by tears, as we tell him that he can’t watch Curious George.

Maybe I’ll have a real entry here one day.  I like to think in the next 48 hours.

For some inexplicable reason, in the past few days, whenever we mention going to the store, MrMan thinks we’re going to the drugstore.

“Let’s go to the store.”

“I go drugstore.” You’d think that the drug would be stressed, but all stores seem to have been morphed into drugstores in his head.  The I (italicized, underlined) is a part of most conversations with him these days.  God forbid he is left out of anything.

MrMan does not yet recognize all of his letters, bu there is no doubt: he is a reader. It makes me so proud to see that Mojgani blood so vigorously coursing through his veins. Yes, for those of you who don’t know, we are a book family. And it is apparent that he, too, is a book person.

One of our family activities of late is Saturday visits to the library. It seems we are not content with the abundance of titles on our shelves. All of MrMan’s current favorites are library books. In no particular order they are:

• Anansi the Spider: A Tale from the Ashanti, by Gerald McDermott: I read it to him on a Saturday, at the library, brought it home, left it in our tote bag. A few days later, he brings it up by name, and even drops a few details about the story. Sam thinks he must have read it at school. I’m of the our-child-is-a-genius camp. Whatever the case, MrMan is a fan and often speaks of Anansi being stuck in the fish and being helped by the six brothers (who also happen to be his sons).
• Yoko, by Rosemary Wells: I really like this story of sharing one’s culture and embracing that of others. MrMan likes that Yoko’s mother calls her “my little cherry blossom.” We’ve also checked out Yoko’s Paper Cranes, and it wasn’t quite as good, or at least not as captivating. But Yoko is quite the sweet story. We’ll have to have sushi soon.
• Silk Peony, Parade Dragon, by Elizabeth Steckman: We’ve yet to check out this book, though MrMan has requested it being read to to him the past two Saturdays while we were at the library. I guess Sam and I were mistaken that it was too wordy for him. We’ll definitely have to bring it home on our next visit. MrMan talks about Peony quite a bit, and has given the name to his stuffed dragon.

Speaking of the library. This past Saturday when we were there, I was noticing that MrMan seemed to need to use the bathroom. I suggested it to him. (What was I thinking?) He said he would just “hold it.” And then he proceeded to do the classic child-pretending-to-ignore-his-bladder pose. I asked where the closest bathroom was, and was directed to the floor above, as it’s got the cleaner bathrooms. We got there and he asks, “Take sandals off?” That’s what they do at school: take off shoes and shorts. And at home, we don’t wear shoes around the house. But I suggested we try to leave his shoes on, here in this public bathroom. And maybe we could just leave his shorts and pull-up around his ankles? And I could just sort of hang him over the toilet? While he was the only one who talked about it, I’m not sure which of us was more scared. I suggested he just go in his pull-up. I guess I need some potty-training too.

The older, white-haired woman finishes arranging her appointments, sticks her calendar in her large, white, stylish handbag, and then walks around the counter to approach the nurse, likely in her late 20s.

“Have you seen Sex in the City yet?” she asks, conspiratorially.

“No, not yet. Did you?”

“Yes.” She leans in closer. “I then went and bought three purses.”

Things I would tell my parents if they were here, as they are enchanted by their only grandchild:

1) Tuesday, when we went to Whole Foods, MrMan was excitedly pointing out the shapes of the signs, showing me that this one was an oval, and that one was a rectangle. He’s known his basic shapes for a while, at least in his books and toys, but it’s always been in the context of learning shapes. This was the first time I’d seen him identify them in “real life.” Today, on the way home, we were stopped at a corner, when MrMan started saying something and pointing. At first, we thought he was saying all done, but it didn’t sound quite like that, and it wasn’t a really appropriate thing to say in the context. Once I focused on where he was pointing, and listened more closely, I realized that he was telling us that the stop sign was an octagon. High five, MrMan! (Up high, down low, in the hole, you got soul.)

2) He’s mastered the power of “please.”

“Please, make big house, Mee.”

“Please, watch George, Dee.”

Yes, he’s figured out that if he prefaces a request with “please,” we’re like putty in his hands. But we’ve figured out that he’s figured that out, so we’re trying to reinforce his good manners. Without being total pushovers. It’s tough.

3) MrMan and I have been pretending to surf of late.  I figure it’s an important skill for a boy born in Hawaii.  We put the big cushions on the living room floor, one for each of us, and then paddle away, until the wave is approaching.  We then spring up onto the cushions and ride the wave.  Good fun.

I’m apparently really getting into this whole potty-training process. In the past ten days we’ve overcome the hurdle of MrMan seeming to think that the potty is only a school thing: most liquid that leaves his body now goes directly into the toilet.  (With the exception of this gross drooling-on-the-floor kick he’s on.)  At school.  At home.  Even at a party we were at on Friday evening.  But things of a more solid nature?  Require rushing to his special place, behind the rocking chair in the living room, with requests of “pri’acy.”

But the proof that I’m really getting into it?  I just remembered a dream from this morning - about MrMan’s pooping in the potty.  All in good time.

I just finished skimming a book highlighting various leaders in the public health field. Some stories I found boring (though I saw the value of what they’d done), others were more interesting. But the person whose achievements most resonated with me were those of Dr. Barry Zuckerman, whose two main projects are

• Reach Out and Read and
• The Medical-Legal Partnership for Children,

both of which I plan to read more about.

My mother is asleep. In Honolulu. My father is landing in Newark right now. They will meet up in Hong Kong tomorrow. My father is getting there by a very direct route, flying from here to Newark to Hong Kong. My mother, as is her way, is getting to Hong Kong via a few stops. Sam has a name for the detours my mom and I like to take - MWD - Mojgani Women Diversions. Usually they’re by car, out of the way by a few blocks to a mile, to satisfy some curiosity we’ve been harboring. This time, however, my mom’s MWD was presented to her by a travel agent who thought she was trying to get to China on fewer miles than my mother originally anticipated using and involves stops in Memphis, Minneapolis, Honolulu, Majuro, Kwajalein, Kosrae, Pohnpei, Chuuk, and Guam, before she lands in Hong Kong. I describe it as taking the local across the Pacific.

I envy the time they’re going to spend in China. Together, they’re visiting places I’ve never been (with the exception of Hong Kong, which I haven’t visited for ten years), and then my mom will visit the places I’m more familiar with. I would love to see old friends. I was reflecting recently how nice it is that we’ve kept in touch, even if infrequently, over the years. I would like to marvel at (and be a little saddened by) the dramatic changes that have taken place in the city I once called home.

I also envy the brief time my mom is spending in Honolulu. Lately, I’ve so been missing the place I left more than two years ago. I’d want to see friends. And visit the beach. And just walk the streets, taking in the atmosphere, the flowers, the foliage. And consume delicious Thai food, something I’ve yet to find here in New Orleans. (I used to find it quite tasty, before I got closer to the source.) And maybe some yummy Korean black noodles. But, if there were no time for floating in the ocean and hanging out and eating, I’d settle for visits to two places: the grocery store and the drug store. I’d visit my old regular grocery store - the Times on Beretania, at Piikoi. It wouldn’t matter what I bought (though a papaya would be mighty fine). My main intent would be to have it bagged right, and the employees there are awesome baggers. And while they’re bagging, they’re talking story. After Times, I’d go to any Long’s drug store. And ask a random employee where something is located. And no matter who I asked, and no matter what I asked about, they’d name an aisle and describe where the item is. And they’d be spot on. Because great customer service is part of the Aloha spirit.

I realized this weekend that I’ve become the stationary one. Anis just got back from a week in South Korea and is going to Germany next month. My dad’s leaving for two weeks in China. My mom’s leaving for five weeks in China. And here I sit, not having left the land mass since arriving here February 27, 2006. It used to be the other way around, with me boarding planes for far-off lands, crying about leaving them here while looking forward to what the unknown held.

I hold on to a tiny piece of myself that still seeks to broaden her world by making it smaller, experiencing as much of it as she can. But recognize, that for all my wishing to see the world, I’m not at a stage where short trips are very practical. And I’m not yet ready to say goodbye to New Orleans for a longer stay elsewhere.

Dear American,

Did you really think things through with this new policy of yours? Fifteen dollars to check one bag, in one direction? So, if I’m going anywhere and need anything more than a change of clothes, I am going to have to:

• pay an additional $30 just to get my things to my destination and back again, or
• attempt to carry on board a just-at-the-cutoff-size bag, making an already crowded plane even more crowded.

How does it work? First seated, first dibs on the overhead bin space? Are there any exclusions to having a special coat with numerous pockets carrying all of my stuff? I’m picturing a plane that’s a little on the top-heavy side, with all of the passengers having carried on board the things they might have checked last month.

As it is, I often feel cheated when I’m on a flight:

• I’m small, so I don’t encroach into other people’s space, as they do into mine
• I usually check my bag, and if I whatever I carry on, I usually stow under the seat in front of me
• I weigh a good deal less than your average passenger (see first point), so where’s my extra baggage allowance?

And now, because I’m not as big and strong as others (and perhaps more considerate of our shared space), you’re going to charge me. I’m glad I have no reservations with you currently. I’m not sure I will until you change your policies, or every one else jumps on your bandwagon.

-shokufeh

My baby turned two-and-a-half today!  How did this happen?  Wasn’t it just a few months ago that we were taking him to the pottery place to capture his 3-month footprint on a tile?