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Soraya’s Goodbye Dinner

Last Friday we joined Eric’s co-workers in saying goodbye to Soraya, who is moving back to Switzerland.

I always have fun with Soraya. It’s really too bad that she’s leaving.

Now Taking Reservations

Big Man Eating Falafel: (Pointing to the baby in the front carrier.) How convenient!

Me: Yes, it is!

Big Man Eating Falafel: I would like to get a tour, too!

Me: Ha. Well, it’s 2000 shekels.

Big Man Eating Falafel: No problem. Money is no object! (Waving his falafel sandwich.)

Fun With Negeen at Michal Negrin

Last Thursday, Negeen and I scooped up our boys and took them to Aroma Café at Grand Kanyon. (Not that going to Aroma was very interesting for them, since they just sat in their car seats and watched us enjoy ourselves. Oh well. And FYI, my Iraqi sandwich was awesome.)

After breakfast, we passed the Michal Negrin store and decided to pay tribute to Amelia by stopping in. Everything in that store is so... delicious. I decided that if I was a celebrity, I’d wear an ornate Michal Negrin necklace to the Oscars.

The clerks at Michal Negrin were awesome, too. When we asked if we could each wear something just to take a photo, they not only started piling thousands of dollars worth of jewelry around our necks, but they also watched the boys while we giggled and admired ourselves in the mirror.

We’ve Done Some Research

And we’re pretty sure it’s reflux, not colic. Poor little guy.

Momonee Esfahani

In my family, we lovingly refer to our grandmothers as “Momonee.” I just heard that my Momonee Esfahani, or my grandmother from Esfahan, passed away early Thursday morning. We think she was 84 years old.

Her physical and cognitive abilities had deteriorated rapidly over the past few years, but I remember her as she was just before that -- roving in our backyard, stopping to pull up weeds, and as she caught me watching her, giving me a smile so big, so greathearted, so full of love and optimism despite the many difficulties she faced in life, that I couldn’t help but surrender any negative thoughts about my own life and smile back, at her, at the sky, at the sunshine, and even at the weeds.

I’ll miss Momonee Esfahani, but I’ll never forget that smile.

Kamyar’s First Office Lunch

At La Terrazza when Kamyar was 48 days old. Pictured is Reza, Bob, me, Kamyar, and Lucas.

Kamyar’s First Visit to the Shrine of the Báb

Also when he was 35 days old.

Family Photos, 35 Days Old

Fifth Week in Pictures

Welcome back, Photoshop! Now I can post all the photos no one ever cared to see. Yay, me.

All of us at home:

Kamyar and his Grandma chillin’ on the papasan:

There sure are some steep hills in Haifa:

Testing out the Infantino® baby carrier:

On most days, I love this motherhood gig:

Most Bizarre Words I’ve Ever Said

“It’s nice to take a break and do the dishes.”

Maybe Somebody Could Rock Me to Sleep?

I haven’t been blogging much because the last few days have been so hard. Whatever progress we were making on baby’s gas issues seems to have regressed, and I spend most of each day rocking and holding him, hoping that he’ll sleep long enough to better deal with his own pain. I’m wiped out, both physically and emotionally. If this is colic, then colic sucks.

Kadria’s Photographs

My friend, Kadria, takes amazing black and white photographs. I love this shot, captured during my baby shower:

lines to a new mother

I’ll go back to posting photographs of my own once we install a photo editor on this computer. Thanks, Kadria!

Super-Pharm

Loud Woman: What a beautiful baby!

Me: Oh, thank you!

Loud Woman: Where can I get such a beautiful baby?

Me: I picked this one up at the pharmacy. (Pointing.)

Loud Woman: How wonderful! I better go have a look, then. (Walks toward pharmacy.)

Design. Deception. Intrigue.

I can usually link the bizarre details of my dreams to my actual life. For example, if I see Philadelphia being overtaken by giant silverfish, it may be because I saw a silverfish in the kitchen, a friend just moved to Philadelphia, and I’m overwhelmed by a big project. It’s that simple.

But last night’s dream came out of nowhere; I really can’t link this to anything.

I’m working at a boutique design firm in Paris. My art director is a petite, pretty blonde, bearing some resemblance to Naomi Watts. I tell her that I walk past another design firm on the way to work every day, and that their work is quite remarkable. She asks me to spy on them.

Her request makes me uncomfortable. Despite my protests, suddenly we’re both standing outside the other design firm, ready to enter. The sky is dark, the streets are wet, and the Eiffel Tower is looming above us.

We walk into the design firm pretending we’re innocent passerby, chatting up the designers as if we don’t know the first thing about the kind of work they do. She flirts with the boys. She asks if she can see their presentation boards. No one questions who we are.

I pace nervously at a distance, hoping not to get too involved in the deception. But when I turn a corner and end up in another part of the office, I’m suddenly face-to-face with their handsome, middle-aged art director, a sort of Bill Paxton look-alike with a shaved head and tight, black jeans. He grabs my arm and pulls me out the back door and onto the street. He knows who I am. He knows why I’m here.

He’s more hurt than angry. Designer to designer, he can’t believe I would do this. His staff is honest and hard-working. They don’t deserve to be cheated.

We walk side by side, briskly, through the dark, wet streets, and I try to explain that it’s not what he thinks; I didn’t want to get involved. He’s not convinced.

Behind us, a voice threatens us to stop. We turn slowly, and my pretty little art director is standing there, arm extended, aiming a gun right at us. She says we could have just walked away quietly. But now I’ll have to die.

Crisis in America

America’s attention is always focused on crises in the Middle East, but I’m more concerned with your crisis right now --

The Hollywood writers’ strike. Does this mean primetime television is only airing reruns? What does this mean for Lost? Are you bored? This is fascinating.

Supermoms

I spent the morning with two supermoms, Katharine and Negeen. We went to Greg Café, where crying babies are acceptable, since the other morning patrons are all impeccably dressed elderly people or stroller-totin’ supermoms.

Our brunch date was the embodiment of my fantasies about motherhood: three sophisticated ladies and three angelic babies (ha) out on the town; great conversation, good food, and a lot of laughter. When a friend of mine in Seattle told me that she goes to fancy bars and restaurants with an Urban Moms group, I was completely jealous, but now I think it won’t be so hard to recreate that experience here.

Yes, I can become a supermom too.

Path Below

Please Don’t Go

I’m afraid I’ll fall apart once my mom leaves. Having her here has been a Godsend -- she takes care of all the cooking, has an amazing ability to comfort the baby, and teaches me things about newborns that I haven’t read in textbooks.

About one-billion times a day, I ask, “Mom, can you watch the baby while I...
shower?”
make a phone call?”
eat?”
sleep?”
do laundry?”

That she won’t be here much longer just hit me. Soon I’ll be home alone during the day, exhausted, clueless. I’ll have to learn to trust my own instincts, sleep when the baby sleeps, stimulate him when he’s awake, and stay away from the Internet (noooooo!) to meet my own basic needs. I asked Eric if he can just stay home with me until the baby is three months old, but he didn’t think it was a good idea. (Little does he know that we’ll never have clean laundry, a tidy apartment, a made bed, nor a homecooked meal ever again.)

How do other new mothers seem to have it all together? Where do they get their confidence? Are they not completely clueless too?

And what I really want to know is: do they feel fulfilled?

Anyway, I’m going to miss my mom -- not only for her help at home, but for her company. I hope I can learn to master motherhood like she has.

Smelly Cat

Really, it’s not your fault.

Like Tiger Stripes

Post-Partum Adventures

I just realized that I’ve been in Israel for a year now. A whole year!

I also realized that, in the past year, I’ve only bought four items of clothing. Only four! Two maternity tops, two maternity pants. That’s ridiculous for someone who loves to shop.

Speaking of shopping, we went to the mall yesterday. Not only were my mom and I restless and desperate to get out of the neighborhood, I was also curious about mall-going with baby and would have been too scared to take him on my own. Anyway, it was fun -- except it’s clear that actual shopping isn’t going to happen if it’s just me and the little guy.

Going to the mall was one of a handful of recent adventures. Last Friday Eric and I took baby to a party. A party! I can’t even tell you how nice it was to see people. The baby did really well, too, at least up until the end, when he cried and cried about a poo.

We also went to the Shrine of the Báb, and then on Saturday we went for two walks. Two, not one!

So, with all this experimental activity, my confidence as a mother is building. Before long I’ll be able to take this little guy anywhere without worrying about his meltdowns -- or my own.

Doo Doo Doo

Floral Relief

Harder to Carry than a Pregnant Belly

The little guy weighs 12.6 pounds now (5.7 kilograms). Geez!

Needless to say, he has already outgrown all of his clothing for ages 0-3 months.