Author: <span>Nadya</span>
Wrinkles are signs of life’s lessons learned willingly or otherwise. The deep ones on the forehead are evidence of worry, of heartbreak, and of disappointment. The deep ones around the mouth are signs of laughter, of happiness, of real understanding that it is important to find joy in everything, even in the loneliest, saddest moments.
These days have been the most difficult ones in my life. Thought it has been tough, I see myself surrounded by people whose sole agenda has been to offer endless support and remind me that “this too shall pass”. True love is from those who are there for you and with you on your worst days.
That head of tousled hair, those blue-green eyes, that soul and its mind-blowing imagination. The eyes, they say, are the window to a person’s soul and if that is so, then Sophia’s must be a big, passionate one. I was digging through thousands of pictures this weekend and came upon this very one. It is a year old and, while her hair is longer and she knows what a contraption is, Sophia is still the same gentle soul whose silly side comes out for those she knows and loves most. No weekending post recap — we’re thinking back on easier, simpler times.
Despite having moved a little over three months ago, we still have a basement full of boxes. On occasion, like this past Saturday, we carry out special ops-level missions where we try to locate something we need like our favorite Japanese earthenware charcoal grill or the art for the kids’ rooms.
Saturday should have been relaxing as the girls visited with their Baba and Deda but ended up hectic what with all the unpacking and cooking. On Sunday, we hosted Evan’s parents and grandmothers. His Bubbie and Grandmom hadn’t seen our house yet. Grandmom is celebrating a birthday this week and we couldn’t think of a better reason to host an instimate brunch.
This right here is Pizza Rustica from a cookbook my sister gifted me for Mother’s day. I was pleased with the way it turned out both in the way of looks and taste. This was, I am ashamed to admit, the first time I had done a pie with a lattice top. I felt very fancy about it. A vanilla-bean pudding with chocolate chips and a fiesta salad rounded out the brunch menu. Eliza and I walked to our neighborhood florist for this gorgeous arrangement featuring the most vibrant yellow ranunculus. I like yellow against grays, creamy whites, and sandy colors.
The highlight of the day was, of course, my mother-in-law’s chocolate cake. We lit the candles up twice because, for little ones, blowing out candles is all the rage.
There was also plenty of games, books, and puzzles.
And in between all that, we sprinkled some face (or hand) painting and …
topped that off with nail polishing. There is something incredibly endearing about a grandfather polishing his little granddaughter’s nails. He tried his best, but my advice would be to continue practicing law.
We had a wonderful time hosting our family and wishing Grandmom a very, very Happy Birthday in person. It was the best Sunday.
A true artist I am not, but that doesn’t always stop me from trying especially for a good cause/occasion such as Mother’s Day. Faced with the dilemma of choosing a gift, I realized that the Mothers in our lives didn’t really want for anything in particular and of material value.
I headed to Sophia and Eliza’s favorite neighborhood arts and crafts store and picked up a few supplies for a small art project that the girls (with some help from me) could make for the occasion. A few minutes later I left with handmade cotton paper, a #2 thin black marker, and two color stamp pads.
The idea was simple enough: use the girls fingerprints for to create animals and bugs that would, when arranged just so, make a small artwork. I used the thin black marker to draw the outlines of the creatures and write a sweet message underneath.
We wrote messages from the girls on the inside along with our own wishes and thanks and put the notes in the mail. These should make lovely keepsakes since they capture Sophia and Eliza’s fingerprints just as they are now. We spent the rest of the weekend busy celebrating birthdays and enjoying Mother’s Day as it should be—relaxing.
I cannot, in all honesty, admit to having been an avid reader as a child. There were however authors, like Alexander Pushkin, and pieces that were too beautiful to pass on. I thought of him, his ability to use ordinary words to describe emotions and feelings with such beauty and grace.
Quite poignant as on a day when the skies outside were glum and when life’s weight felt, for me, too heavy. The briefest glimpse of this little person and the happiness she exudes parted all sadness and worry at least for the time being.