simply

In this moment I am
the shadows dancing on the wall
of the sun and leaves
blissfully unaware that each could not be
without the other one.

In this moment I am
calm and peace and light
from the soft breath of babes in dreams
knowing only a love that grows
nurtured in the gentle rocking of a chair

In this moment I am
not the laundry in the hall,
nor tomorrow's shimmering gleams,
devoid of dwelling on how we disagree
or where this all began

In this moment I
simply
am.

hello, my name is Tahirih and I'm an addict

I have been an addict for two and a half years.
I used to find release in it, a way to feel more connected to the world.  I found that there were others like me. we could joke about our "addiction." I can quit anytime I want.  It's like an off switch, just flip it and I'm done. Right?  I just don't want to be done yet. 
I enjoy it.
If I'm having a bad day, I can just sit down and unwind for a while.  If the kids are screaming, I have an excuse to ignore them for a bit. 
Until that little bit became more and more.
It started infringing upon my daily activities. chores. cooking. cleaning. You know, all those things that are part of maintaining a household. 
Now I do it even when my husband is around.  My 3 year old has started commenting on my habit.
I feel bad. I know I should stop.  Just walk away.  But.  But.  Just one more? 
Just one more.
Until that one becomes two. three. four.
Each day I can find a new reason to keep coming back.  I know that time is slipping through my fingers.  Sliding faster and faster. Each grain of sand a moment.  Wasted?  But nonetheless one I cannot get back. 
I contemplate it each morning, afternoon and evening.  Is this what I should be doing right now?
But I am attracted to it, like a moth to a flame.  I look for that comforting glow, that soothing click. click.
click.
click.
clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick
click.
All I have to do is find that little red 'X'. That's all.
But my fingers look for one more thing.  That's all.  Just one more.

I will do better tomorrow.  That is all I can tell myself. 



Hi.  My name is Tahirih, and I'm addicted to the internet.

the irony of baby proofing

I decided to baby proof my kitchen today.  This is a tricky endeavor for a several reasons.  One, I am more than likely to forget that I've done it, yank a door open and inevitably break a fingernail. And, knowing me, it will happen more than once.  Two, I live with two adult males who can barely manage to get dishes put away as it is, let alone with any further obstacles.  We have solid oak cabinets-- not so friendly to the cheap little screws that come with the cabinet latches.  And, furthermore, I have decided to attempt this endeavor while both kids are awake and no other adults are present. *Disclaimer- do not try this at home*

So it begins....

Door number one: Glass bakeware and plastic baggies. 
I get the kit open, find my ratcheting screwdriver, glance at the instructions.  Okay Ms. Fix-it, here we go!  I reach for a matching hook and clasp and peel the adhesive strips from their backing, then from my finger, then from my other finger, then... it's time to peel the second side, but I miss the wax paper and peel the whole strip off. Then repeat. And repeat. I get the pieces aligned and right side up, reach for a screw.  They are preserved better than the original Declaration of Independence in their hermetically sealed baggie.  I grasp the sides.... pulling.... stretching....  almost.. there..  POP!  The bag erupts as forcefully as a host body in a Sigorney Weaver film sending tiny, sharp, little screws bouncing and rolling around my kitchen.  My kids dive for them as though a parade float has just rolled by.  (Did I mention this package is big enough to proof every cabinet in the house with four screws apiece?)  I'm on the floor.  Scrambling, grunting, reaching, grabbing, knocking children over like a fat kid under the pinata...

Door number two: Trash and cleansers. This time I'm on top of things.  I have four screws neatly aligned, complete mastery of sticky adhesive squares, hammer for starting screws aside one small nail, handy-dandy ratcheting screw driver, and I'm off!  "MOM!!!  I'M STUCK!!!"  I look up to see my three year old with one of my belts around his naked waist and its tail looped, tucked and knotted to the cupboard below the fish tank. He's yanking and flailing and the fish are preparing for a tsunami as I rush over.  Untying him, taking enough time only to shake my head and smile; I no longer bother asking what, why, or how.  Determined to get through this project I head back to the kitchen where my toddler has suddenly become interested in carpentry.  We wrestle over the hammer and I shoo him away. Screeching like a toddler scorned, he finds the lazy susan.  It's too late to intervene now. I've got the screws in, I'm working muscles I didn't know I have forcing this screw into loudly protesting cabinetry. Zinging past my head, out come the noodles, out comes the flour, baking powder and cheese sauce.  Out comes the cocoa mix, and, like a shark smelling blood, Lakai appears. "Don't open that, please, sweetie," I say, my sugary sweet words falling on voluntarily deaf ears, no match for the promise of a chocolatey treat.  "Please don't open tha--"  Ttttthhhhhwak, the seal breaks.  I'm turning the screw fervently, but not fast enough.  "Look, mom! I dipped my fingers.  It tateses good.  You want some?" 

Door number three: Tupperware. (Not that this drawer contains anything dangerous or breakable, I'm just tired of picking dog hair out of my leftovers.) This is actually a drawer, posing new angles and new obstacles. I pull the drawer completely out and place it on the floor next to me.  I turn my head to the side, tongue pointing deliberately from the corner of my mouth, like a curious puppy.  I size up the angles, and begin. Again, my progress is brought to a screeching halt as the two brothers begin rolling, pushing, pinching, screaming.  "Are you really fighting over an empty cup?" So I referee, tuck in my whistle and head back to the kitchen, Jevan following, leaving his glowering brother safely behind.  He spots the loose drawer and immediately recognizes his favorite playthings.  I'm balancing a screw on the tip of the driver, ineptly attempting to complete my task.  Jevan the opportunist climbs into the drawer, and one by one uproots the containers once neatly stacked by shape and size, tossing them jubilantly watching how far they roll and bounce around our workspace, marveling at how much dog hair they amass on a freshly swept floor.  I sigh and look up to a proud, toothy grin.  I go to check on a crash from another room and return as my husband walks in the door.  Looking concerned he asks, "What happened here?" "Baby-proofing," I reply simply.  He laughs.  "No, I'm serious..."

my day as of 10 a.m.

I force my eyes open and through the filtered twilight in my room stare at the clock in disbelief. 7:12 am. I am greeted by a one year old who quickly decides that he'd rather play than snuggle, who is in turn greeted by a sleep deprived daddy who is less than amused by Jevan's playful antics.  Apparently he doesn't appreciate being a jungle gym right now.

So, I rise, skillfully pulling on a hoodie while still holding the baby.  We tiptoe downstairs, already with a to-do list-- coffee.  I get Jevan settled with some toys and take a sip of fresh-brewed life-sustaining nectar (with a splash of Chocolate Eclair creamer) and feel the stirrings of my days ambition.  I decide to make chocolate chip banana bread, and while that is baking my mind wanders... I look around the house and my thoughts are quickly brought out of the intoxicating dreamland to the reality that I have company coming to stay and my house, well, looks like I have two kids and a dog.  I reluctantly leave the sanctuary of the keyboard and my coffee and reach for the dust rag. 

One room down and I am hailed from the top step by a sleepy-eyed Lakai.  Carry me, he says.  We come down and again I reach for the dust rag.  Don't put me down, he says.  So I bend, and twist and reach, contorting in ways only a mom can to get the dust off the window sills behind the couch and off the piano.  The oven dings, and my back and arms are relieved for the time being.

I pull breakfast from the oven.  You makin brownies, Mom?  Nope! I say. It's banana bread. I NOT LIKE BANANA BREAD! I WANT BROWNIES!  Well. I glance down at him matter-of-factly, We're not having brownies.  Why?  Because we don't eat brownies for breakfast.  Why?  Because...  (I pause. Brownies for breakfast really does sound amazing right about now) WHY?  So I give him the most honest answer I can think of.  Because we're out.

We decide on oatmeal while the bread cools, and Lakai concedes that banana bread is an acceptable substitute for brownies.  I find Jevan, who has occupied himself playing with a dog toy, and strap him into his highchair.  I look through a row of small glass jars and decide we'll see what he thinks of pureed mango. I sneak a bite into his mouth between fistfuls of cheerios.  He reciprocates with a wrinkled nose and a shake of his head.  Undaunted, I go for bite two.  And the crowd goes wild! It's in! SCOOOOOOORRRRE!  Whew. Half a jar down, and he starts grappling for the spoon.  Okay, I say.  You do it.  I load up the spoon and hand it to him.  He opts not to grab the handle, but the small mound of yellow mush, then notices his foot resting against the tray. He grabs his toes, firmly squeezing them and I see mango squish between his toes. Awesome.  After a few minutes of him mauling the spoon I am able to divert his attention and grab it back. My attempt at reentry is thwarted as slimy fingers wind their way between mine and grasp the spoon.  This time it goes into his mouth sideways, like a dog carrying a bone.  Over my shoulder I hear Lakai.  We have piqued his interest enough that he has stopped chanting "Diarrhea" and giggling at himself to watch as Jevan dodges my grab for the spoon, flicking tropical goop across the kitchen and sticks the spoon back between his four large teeth.  He looks at me, wrinkles his nose and gives a triumphant grin.  Breakfast is over.

new disease discovered: sticky-child syndrome

Please read this!  This is very serious and yet gets almost no recognition!  We must spread awareness!  Sticky Child Syndrome does not just affect the individual, it affects whole families and consumes entire households!

You may be a victim of Sticky Child Syndrome (SCS) if:

• You have unexplained itching, later attributed to dried snot or food crumbs in your shirt or bra
  
• You have splotchy skin discoloration, most commonly in shades of pureed squash, carrot or green bean
  
• You appear to be growing tufts of animal hair or blanket fuzz that smell oddly of syrup or jelly
  
• You see dark spots when looking at the floor or walls, coincidentally, they are only from the light switch down.
• You are unable to wear dark, or light colors as they seem to smear, stain and crust on contact.
  

If the symptoms above were not enough to make you take this seriously, please check for symptoms of the advanced form of the disease:

• Upon waking in the morning you have large chunks of eye crust that will later be identified as pieces of granola bar from a Saturday morning snack.
• Your hair clumps abnormally and is painful to brush.  This can be caused by many things, but most commonly associated with advanced SCS, is identified as being stickers, fruit snacks or dum dum pops wedged between the cushions where you incidentally fell asleep on the couch last night.
• You smell like sh*t.  Literally.  This has been linked to many sources, but a common culprit is the semi-nude, potty-training child who comes to sit on your lap for post-potty congratulation.

It doesn't stop there.  Secondary side-effects have been noted also.  These include, but are not limited to:

• Loss of desire to apply makeup or wear clean clothes
  or, conversely, compulsive laundry washing and use of Clorox wipes
• Irrational urges to encapsulate children in plastic bubbles
• Decrease in sex appeal, possible loss of desire from either partner
• Desensitization to certain textures, ie. floor crumbs, sticky counters and slimy door knobs
• Desensitization to unpleaseant odors, often accompanied by inappropriate appreciation of "toilet humor"
  
• Paranoia and heightened sense of awareness of 'quiet'
  

Moms!  We must band together to spread awareness of this nearly unavoidable affliction.  We need to teach others about SCS to lessen the stigma.   Unless we do something, we will never see the end of the sly snickers and backhanded comments from well-dressed, childless adults when we go out in public unaware of the used breast pad or burp rag that has inconveniently dried to the back of a shirt or pair of pants. We must fight to convince the uneducated, childless masses, that No! I do not wipe my nose on my sleeve, or my shoulder, or my pant leg! 

So spread the word, every voice counts.

prayers for peace

Native American Prayer for Peace
O Great Spirit of our Ancestors, I raise my pipe to you.
To your messengers the four winds, and to Mother Earth who provides for your children.
Give us the wisdom to teach our children to love, to respect, and to be kind to each other so that they may grow with peace in mind.
Let us learn to share all good things that you provide for us on this Earth.

Buddhist Prayer for Peace

May all beings everywhere plagued with sufferings of body and mind quickly be freed from their illnesses.

May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound be free.

May the powerless find power, and may people think of befriending one another.

May those who find themselves in trackless, fearful wilderness--

the children, the aged, the unprotected--

be guarded by beneficent celestials, and may they swiftly attain Buddhahood.

Bahai' Prayer for Peace 
Be generous in prosperity, and thankful in adversity.
Be fair in thy judgement, and guarded in thy speech.
Be a lamp unto those who walk in darkness, and a home to the stranger.
Be eyes to the blind, and a guiding light unto the feet of the erring.
Be a breath of life to the body of humankind, a dew to the soil of the human heart, and a fruit upon the tree of humility.

Sikh Prayer for Peace

God adjudges us according to our deeds, not the coat that we wear: that truth is above everything, but higher still is truthful living.
Know that we attaineth God when we loveth, and only that victory endures in consequences of which no one is defeated.

Native African Prayer for Peace
Almighty God, the Great Thumb we cannot evade to tie any knot; the Roaring Thunder that splits mighty trees; the all-seeing Lord up on high who sees even the footprints of an antelope on a rock mass here on Earth.
You are the one who does not hesitate to respond to our call.
You are the cornerstone of peace.

Hindu Prayer for Peace

Oh God, lead us from the unreal to the Real.
Oh God, lead us from darkness to light.
Oh God, lead us from death to immortality.

Shanti, Shanti, Shanti unto all.

Oh Lord God almighty, may there be peace in celestial regions.
May there be peace on earth.
May the waters be appeasing.
May herbs be wholesome, and may trees and plants bring peace to all.
May all beneficent beings bring peace to us.
May thy Vedic Law propagate peace all through the world.
May all things be a source of peace to us.

And may thy peace itself, bestow peace on all,
and may that peace come to me also.

Jewish Prayer for Peace

Come let us go up the mountain of the Lord, that we may walk the paths of the Most High.

And we shall beat our swords into ploughshares, and our spears into pruning hooks.

Nation shall not lift up sword against nation-- neither shall they learn war any more.

And none shall be afraid, for the mouth of the Lord of Hosts has spoken.

Muslim Prayer for Peace

In the name of Allah, the beneficent, the merciful.
Praise be to the Lord of the Universe who has created us and made us into tribes and nations, That we may know each other, not that we may despise each other.

If the enemy incline towards peace, do thou also incline towards peace, and trust God, for the Lord is the one that heareth and knoweth all things.

And the servants of God, Most Gracious are those who walk on the Earth in humility, and when we address them, we say "PEACE."

Christian Prayer for Peace

Blessed are the PEACEMAKERS, for they shall be known as the Children of God.

But I say to you that hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.

To those who strike you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from those who take away your cloak, do not withhold your coat as well.

Give to everyone who begs from you, and of those who take away your goods, do not ask them again.

And as you wish that others would do to you, so do to them.

Shinto Prayer for Peace

Although the people living across the ocean surrounding us, I believe, are all our brothers and sisters, why are there constant troubles in this world?

Why do winds and waves rise in the ocean surrounding us?

I only earnestly wish that the wind will soon puff away all the clouds which are hanging over the tops of the mountains.

Jainist Prayer for Peace

Peace and Universal Love is the essence of the Gospel preached by all the Enlightened Ones.

The Lord has preached that equanimity is the Dharma.

Forgive do I creatures all, and let all creatures forgive me.
Unto all have I amity, and unto none enmity.

Know that violence is the root cause of all miseries in the world.
Violence, in fact, is the knot of bondage.

"Do not injure any living being."
This is the eternal, perennial, and unalterable way of spiritual life.

A weapon howsoever powerful it may be, can always be superseded by a superior one;
but no weapon can, however, be superior to non-violence and love.

Zoroastrian Prayer for Peace

We pray to God to eradicate all the misery in the world:
that understanding triumph over ignorance, that generosity triumph over indifference, that trust triumph over contempt, and that truth triumph over falsehood.

breastfeeding is selfish

I am tired of hearing that moms who choose to formula feed are selfish.  Although there are many moms out there who will argue that, that's not what this journal is about.  Let's look at moms who breastfeed for a minute. 

They lay in bed for an extra 20 minutes in the morning, just because the baby is having breakfast.

They can go get a manicure with that 25 bucks they're not spending on formula.

When they get home from a $200 trip to the grocery store and everyone is exhausted, nerves are frazzled and the baby's screaming, they are always the ones who get to sit down, kick off their shoes and nurse while dad unloads the car, puts food away and starts dinner.

If the baby is nursing during dinner, they can get their food cut for them, and some even have their husband feed them!

They have an excuse to go buy cute bras and tops, just so they can get their boobs out easier.

They justify eating and snacking all day just because they're feeding two.  (I thought that was something only pregnant women were allowed to do.)

Breastfeeding moms are so selfish, they even get health advantages.  According to webMD, women who breastfeed:

1. lose baby weight faster and easier than if they didn't breastfeed.
   
2. have reduced risk of severe postpartum hemorrhage because it help the uterus return to  its pre-baby state (which is slimming, also).
3. have reduced risk of breast, uterine and ovarian cancers.
4. get natural hormonal stress relief from the release of oxytocin

This whole list could go on and on.  I mean, yeah, there are benefits for the baby too, but, honestly! Some of this stuff just makes women who breastfeed sound selfish and downright lazy.

But, wait.  I chose to breastfeed, so I guess I'm selfish too.  :]

self portrait in shades of grey

I am not one for labels. Not in parenting, not in politics, not in religion and not on my clothes.  I find personal success and inner peace when I don't follow someone else's template for how I should love, vote, pray or dress. I keep my eyes and my mind open for what the universe has to offer.  I expect that many attitudes and ideals aren't for me, but I try to stay open to what may.  It might not be a whole concept, but I search for the good and find a way that it might apply to my life and my situation.  How has it worked for others and how it can enrich my life?  If it doesn't work, what have I learned?

The black and white ideals of liberals and conservatives, fundamentalists and atheists, ferber and sears, fifth avenue and freeganism, exist in an essential symbiosis.  Each extreme cannot be without its opposite to counterbalance. It is night and day, joy and pain, yin and yang.  They are what outline the world.  My efforts are to find a balance.  Too much "yin" and it is too dark to find my way; too much "yang" and it is too bright to see clearly.

I cannot live my life in black nor white, it is much too flat. But I accept that the tranquil gray twilight in which I paint my life would not exist without them.