Home again

After just over a month, we have all circled back to our home in Chicago. And here I sit after a long bit of silence with not much, yet so much on my mind. Nalin had gone back to India the third week of April to be with his mother in her last weeks. We, in turn (the boys and I), traveled down to Missouri to be with my parents. Throughout that time, I thought often of our little routines at home: the way we play, eat, cook, read, sleep, etc., and how our interactions with one another so greatly influence our health and well-being. When someone is missing from that equation, everything seems to stand still. And yet the time with my family was beautiful. My sons reveled in the attention of their lovely cousins and aunties, and the continuous care from my parents, right down to my dad making grocery runs to the local "whole foods" grocery store for me, couldn't have been more appreciated. After all, home is where you make it and what you make of it. And home is where you are loved and where you love.

So here we are back again, although now so much has changed. Nalin's mom passed away in her home, with two of her sons by her side, nearly two weeks ago now. Yesterday, as I was preparing a meal for my family, back in the kitchen I know so well, I couldn't help but think of the literally thousands of meals she prepared for her family in her all-too-short life. I imagined her juggling the vegetables and bowls and pots from counter to stove and back with five children at her feet and in her line of sight. I conjured the smells of her kitchen and the delighted look on her husband's face as he tasted her lamb pilaf. She nurtured and nourished six amazing people (and of course many more now with spouses, grandchildren, extended family), with one of whom I am so lucky to spend my life.

A little over a week ago, Nalin and I spent time over the phone and through email composing a eulogy for him to read at his mother's memorial service in Kurukshetra. I had recently come across this quote from Susan Sontag that we decided to borrow:

Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of use is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.

Nalin's mom had been a citizen of "that other place" for nearly a year. The only comfort was that she was able, for the most part, to be at home surrounded by those she loved and the familiar sights, sounds, and smells that became her sustenance throughout her final months, weeks, and days. As Nalin traveled back to India in late April, he read Meghan O'Rourke's piece in the New Yorker entitled "Story's End," with the subtitle: "Writing a mother's death." It is a stunning piece, made more powerful to me by the knowledge of Nalin sitting on a plane by himself reading it alone as he made the journey home that no child is prepared to make.

As I sat there a week ago, writing a mother's death in the far corner of a Starbucks in Springfield, Missouri, home never seemed more real or more poignant that in the moment he and I read the eulogy together aloud over the phone later that night, with thousands of miles between us. I must say, though, it feels much better to have him here now by my side.

 

A mother's reflection on her special day

I've just come up from checking on my sleeping boys. They are cuddled together so sweetly, and as I leave them I think of the countless and repetitive Facebook posts I read today: "[my children] are the greatest mother's day gift[s] I could get." Which begs the question, what gifts do we give our children? I suppose I hope that the daily things we do with our children, whether with food, with play, with reading, with vast amounts of affection are gifts that "keep on giving," so to speak. With respect to food and health, our "gifts" are often met with friction and sometimes outright refusal. While browsing the New York Times health blog, Well, tonight, I found this interesting article about mistakes parents make with regards to the nutrition of their children. It is always comforting to know that there is never an end to the ways we can enrich our kids' appreciation or openness to the gift of food. Here are the main points of the article, with some added thoughts from my experience:

"Sending children out of the kitchen"
I know all too well how difficult (and sometimes dangerous) it is to cook with two little ones running around the kitchen. Most of the time it is just plain easier to set them up with a video in the other room to keep them out of the way. It has occurred to me on several occasions, and now seems to be confirmed by studies, that having children involved in or at the very least witness to cooking and meal preparation paves the way for their interest in food. My older son is a part of a Waldorf-inspired playgroup, and every Monday they bake the bread that they then eat on Tuesday. He is so proud of this involvement and tries to help me every time I bake something. Try placing a solid stool next to a safe area of counter space and hand them the wooden butter knives, a cutting board, and some vegetables. Or make a little dough for them to knead and roll while you are at work. You'd be amazed at the fun they have.

"Pressuring them to take a bite"
We are all guilty of this. There are some meals or many, for that matter, that I just can't get my children to eat what I would like them to. Coercion just doesn't seem to work, and often it backfires. The article suggests putting the food on the table and using gentle encouragement for your child to try it. The most interesting part, for me, however, was this passage: "But don’t complain if she refuses, and don’t offer praise if she tastes it. Just ask her if she wants some more or take seconds yourself, but try to stay neutral." Just stay neutral. What an amazing thought. This definitely takes the judgment out of one's food experience. 

"Keeping 'good stuff' out of reach"
It appears that there are countless studies showing that when food is restricted, compulsive or binge eating can follow. I once read an article on this same wavelength, which inspired me to keep the applesauce on the same plate as the "main" dish I was serving my child for lunch, rather than showcasing it as a dessert later. Something about setting up some foods as prizes for the consumption of others that only led to an imbalanced approach to one's meal. And for snacks, I always serve the beloved cheese crackers or graham crackers next to the carrots or apple slices. There are times that the fruit and veggies are still left on the plate, but there are other times that the fruit is favored over those savory treats. I don't think this means that one should always serve chocolate chip cookies at the same time they are trying to get their child to eat their pasta for lunch. Let's be realistic. But I do think this is an interesting point. We have to be wise about what we feed our children in all cases, but we can be more thoughtful about how we incorporate a variety of tastes and choices into their meals and snacks. One alongside the other. I think this bodes well for their ability to make the right choices in the long run.

"Dieting in front of your children"
Wow. This is a big one. We all talk often about the modeling we do for our children. How we can't expect them to eat the right foods if we don't, etc. Our children are tuned in to our food habits in ways we can't even imagine, and they are likely to try more things if they see us eating them. They also will reject the things we reject. Given all of this, it is no wonder that a child's perception of their own bodies or relationship to food may be powerfully wrapped up in what they witness of their parents' food habits or preoccupations with dieting or food restrictions. What's worse is that at least one report has found that mothers who were obsessed with weight and dieting were more likely to pressure their own daughters into weight loss or food restriction. As for me, I worry more about the example I embody when I am drinking way too many ice coffees or eating way too many scones in the front seat of my car, as opposed to choosing those same carrots or apple slices I am offering my children. Nonetheless, it is all a very fine line.

"Serving boring vegetables"
I think this one speaks for itself. I have talked a lot in other postings about how vegetables are often served in ways that are uninteresting to children. I think the important thing is to incorporate them in healthy but flavorful ways in your food, be it in curries or soups, or a stir-fry, or a baking sheet of sweet potato "fries" with a bit of olive oil and salt. Make your veggies come alive.

"Giving up too soon"
We've all heard someone say, "My kid would never eat that.” That may be true now, but preferences change and change quickly. And one thing this article mentions is that sibling or friendship dynamics can alter a child's response to new foods. My sons are quite crazy about nori (thin, dried sheets of seaweed, used for sushi and as a condiment for many Asian dishes). They can eat it by the package, and we usually serve it with fish and sticky rice. This is certainly something that doesn't sound like something kids would like, but in my experience, they love it when they try it. As the article says, "exposure to new foods is what counts."

At the end of this very lovely day that is for mothers, I am left pondering all the ways we succeed and fail as parents. It is an incredible responsibility this thing called parenthood. I guess my greatest hope is that my kids grow up with an attachment to the world and people around them. And I can't help but associate an openness to food as one of those ties that binds and makes them more open and diverse people themselves. The Well blog also has a posting called "Share Six Words About Your Mother," where one has to encapsilate their mother in just six words. I guess I hope that these are the six words my sons say about me: "She tried, and so did I."

Happy mother's day to you all.

Market madness; can hardly wait!

A tree grows in Chelsea

Recently, during one of our late night (here)/mid-morning (there) conversations, Nalin mentioned that he was reading a lot during this trip to India. His current infatuation is Netherland, by Joseph O'Neill, who is married to Sally Singer, the former fashion news and features director at Vogue, who is now the editor of T: The New York Times Style Magazine. A couple of years ago, almost to the day, The Selby, one of our favorite photo sites, published images of the couple's apartment in the Chelsea Hotel, which they share with their three sons. Tonight I found myself looking closely at those images and browsing around to read more about Ms. Singer and her family (even though Nalin has been urging me to read about her for a long time now). One blog has a conversation with her discussing her favorite heirloom, a mid-century metal table with figures from the Sistine Chapel etched onto the face of it. Her sons have claimed their spots next to their favorite figures. She goes on to explain how she lives with this heirloom:

"As you enter our house and go down a hallway, you’re immediately in our kitchen, which opens into our living room. The table is one of the first things you see. It sort of defines the center of how we live because we’re always at that table. We eat on it every single day. Anyone who comes in and sits at it, looks down and smiles because they see a funny little face staring up at them. I’ve really come to appreciate it."

This is an absolutely lovely passage, and I appreciate that Ms. Singer, with what must be her vast knowledge and access to treasures of such distinction in her profession would choose an object of supposedly ordinary, daily family significance as one of her most priceless possessions.

Last summer, our family was in New York for a little over a week, house-sitting for friends who live on West 23rd Street, just two short blocks west of the Chelsea Hotel. Each day I found myself strolling past this hotel with my two young sons in tow. At night, I sat curled on the living room couch devouring stories of the legends of the Chelsea Hotel from a book by the same title on the shelves of our friends. It occurred to me that in this concrete jungle that is especially Chelsea, this hotel emerges from the earth and its surroundings like a tree, with years of growth and witness to everything both inside and out, broadly spreading into the sky, yet breathing in both the earth and the air around it, through its ironed balconies. There is a book we love by Tara Publishers in India called One, Two, Tree! that is at its core a counting book, and through its simple and colorful line drawings shows the tree growing with numbers of creatures one by one. A sort of Noah's ark of nature. This is how the Chelsea Hotel seems to me, drawing in such a vast array of individuals and families like Sally Singer's, whose children must run through the long corridors like squirrels on their branches. Mr. O'Neill and Ms. Singer have chosen to build their nest at the Chelsea, which has to be at times both hospitable and inhospitable to a growing family. And this is to me the beauty of it all.

There is an architectural concept of building a structure like a tree, paying attention to light and shadow, shelter and sustainability (and other important elements, of course), but I believe that this is actually a very organic metaphor without even trying. A building becomes a tree over time by its very existence through the people who live within it, regardless of its original intent. In other words, it is what inhabits a thing that makes it unique and dynamic. Perhaps three young children sitting year after year at their favored spots around a treasured kitchen table exemplifies this in the most profound and harmonious way.