Hellos and goodbyes

Happy Mother’s Day!

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May has always been a very busy month in the View Through the Window household.

There is my mother in law’s birthday, my brother’s birthday, Mother’s Day, my birthday, and then Memorial Day, when we usually go somewhere for vacation.

The month has gotten even busier since I started school again.  It means the end of the semester.  In fact, all my work for my classes is due before midnight on May 15.

I wasn’t going to let schoolwork get in the way of my enjoying my weekend, though, especially since I had extra reason to celebrate.

Reason number one is that my brother and his wife had their first baby last week.  I am an aunt now for the second time!

And if that wasn’t awesome enough, my sister and her son, my four year old nephew, paid us a surprise visit all the way from Dallas, Texas.

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There he is hiding behind his cousin, Son 1.

Seeing my nephews was the best gift ever.  It made me so happy to be able to celebrate Mother’s Day with them.

We all went out to Chicago’s Chinatown on Sunday.

Chinatown has a little courtyard type of area, where there are statues of the animals of the Chinese zodiac.  They have a little description underneath for who falls under which year and what animal.

Mine would be the Rat.

Here are some of the other ones.

We had a late lunch…

and then toured some more.

Above are pictures of Chinatown’s candy store, where they lay out samples of stuff like dried plums, sesame seed candy, and sweet ginger.  They have the regular stuff like Airheads and Skittles as well.  I even saw some small samples of dried squid and cuttlefish.

I spent half my time in that store hollering at my boys, who had never been through the sampling process before.  They thought it meant they could take a bite of whatever it was they were sampling, spit it out if they didn’t like it, and put it right back in the little dish.

I spent the other half fishing out whatever they had put back and throwing it away.  🙄

It’s a miracle they didn’t kick us out of that store.

The weekend went by too quickly and before we knew it, it was time to drive my sister to O’Hare airport and say goodbye.

Son 2 and Fati joined me in dropping them off.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother’s Day!

For richer or for poorer, but not during the Colts game

Prayers for the tragedy in France.  “Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it must be attained through understanding” – Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Welcome to the newly renovated The View Through The Window.  I was getting tired of that old theme and I like to switch things up now and then.  I hope you like this new blog style as much as I do.  Now back to our regularly scheduled blog post.

He’s the good cop to your bad cop.  The fun loving parent to your disciplinarian.  The one who sneaks your kids candy during time outs.  I quote, “Daddy’s awesome and you suck.”

Point noted.

Husbands.  You gotta love em.  And because we love them, let’s start with all the things they do that make them wonderful :

-He comes home after work.

Moving on.

I’m just kidding.  We all know husbands do a lot more good than just come home from work.  Let’s add to the list.

-He comes straight home from work.

Still kidding.  Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.  The real list follows :

-He comes straight home from work to a crabby wife and hyper kids, yet still manages to remain upbeat.

-Is tired as hell but tells you to take a break.

-Knows exactly what to do when you’re angry.  When I’m mad at him, my husband starts cleaning.  He strongly believes that cleanliness is next to godliness because it prevents your wife from doing that head turning thing from the Exorcist.

-Doesn’t question the logic behind why I can be as grumpy as I want but he gets in trouble for not smiling enough.

-Worked for years at a job he hated because he felt he had to.  His hard work is what made it possible for me to stay at home with our kids.  This is the reason why I call my husband the real superman.  That and because he’s survived being married to me for so long.

-Is ever supportive, whether it’s you wanting to go back to school, starting a blog or turning off all the lights and pretending no one’s home when the neighbor’s annoying kids show up uninvited.

-Is the world’s greatest dad.  My husband has more patience than a monkey has love for bananas.  He can play make believe games with my boys for hours.  I would rather clean the house. Or watch paint dry.  Or clean the house while I watch paint dry.

-He lets you blog about him.

And since nothing and no one is perfect, here are things he does that make him so very annoying :

-You send him to the supermarket for cauliflower and he returns with lettuce.  You ask for parsley and he gets spinach.

-Half your kitchen stuff ends up where it shouldn’t be when he unloads the dishwasher.

-His version of cleaning is to dump everything in the kids’ toy box and/or the closet.

-You can always count on him to not answer his phone.

-Wouldn’t know his way around the kitchen even if it came equipped with exit signs.

-Thinks it’s okay to have a conversation with you when you’re brushing your teeth.  Or through the bathroom door.  But thou shall not interrupt viewing of football game.

-Thinks we are out of <fill in the blank> if a sixty second search for it yields nothing.

-Grins and says But I picked you when you tell him his taste sucks.

-Thinks sitting down to pee is a strange and foreign concept.

-His looking for something usually ends up with you finding it for him.

-His lack of attention to detail and failure to pick up on social cues makes you wonder if he spent his adolescent years devoid of human interaction.  When I was pregnant and mine no longer fit, my husband thought it was okay to tell my family I was wearing his underwear.

-Hogs the blanket.  Tosses and turns enough to wake the dead.  My husband’s nocturnal bed shaking (no, not that kind) once even woke him up.  He turned to me, still half asleep, and asked was there an earthquake? to which I replied no, darling, your ass was just doing its sleep aerobics thing again.

-Leaves all pantry and cabinet doors wide open.  Shutting them makes you feel like Vanna White after an exceptionally large puzzle solving on an early 90’s episode of Wheel of Fortune.  You know, before it went all touch screen.

-He lets you blog about him with the condition that you will do a similar post on wives.

Needless to say, I accepted the challenge.

Fair and Lovely

I heard a story from a friend that both saddened and frustrated me.  This friend has a cousin who is in her early twenties, which in Indian Pakistani culture is considered just the right age range for courtship and marriage.  As soon as a girl nears twenty, the pings, similar to the beeps of a dying battery in a smoke alarm, start going off in her parents brain.  Apparently the dreaded age is thirty.  If you’re past that and you are a female of southeast Asian descent, shame on you for not settling!

Of course I’m exaggerating.  Not the shame and settling part but the stereotyping part.  Not all Indian Pakistani families treat their daughters like heifers competing for first prize at the state fair, the prize being a husband.  An education and a career is what is prioritized, especially here in the good old USA.  However, I don’t have to tell you what kind of treatment women receive in terms of education, marriage, and procreation in parts of India, Pakistan, and other developing countries.  You can grab a newspaper from those countries and read it for yourself.  Sometimes that stone age mentality finds its way into society here as well.

The cousin of this friend has an aunt.  This woman has been living and working in this country for the past thirty odd years, but apparently back in the old country, she was the village idiot.  This aunt raved on and on about a neighbor of hers who she thought would be perfect for her niece.  The only problem was that he was twice divorced.  What’s the problem, the aunt asked.  You know ——- won’t find anyone better.  She isn’t thin or light skinned.  Mind you, this was all said directly to the girl’s mother.  I’m sure you’re thinking the mom must have gone ape shit, right?  Unfortunately, no, and I’ll tell you why.

There are some backward ideas floating around in Indian/Pakistani culture, similar in annoyance to the common cold.  There’s no cure for them, they’re annoying as hell when you’ve been afflicted, but they usually won’t kill you.  Only a small minority thinks this way, but it’s that minority that ruins it for the rest of us.  Backward idea numero uno is the obsession with light skin. Light colored skin is prized.  Now, light skin is beautiful.  My sister is light-skinned and she’s gorgeous.  But we’re talking light skinned, as in Dracula just fed off you light.  You need to look like a fresh bulb.  The paler, the better.  Don’t ask me why.  I have no idea, especially since majority of Indians are of the darker, wheatish hue.  Some people say it’s an inferiority complex left over from British colonial rule.  I believe them.  Oprah once did a segment on her show where she talked about how India is the number one country in the use of skin bleach.  I’d have written a complaint to her on behalf of my people if I didn’t have slightly used tubes of Fair and Lovely sitting in my dresser drawer, remnants of my “I want to fit in” phase.

Another lovely gem of this thought process is that if you’re fat, you are ugly.  No ifs or buts.  An aunty once told me, “Girls only look good if they are slim”, which confused the eff out of me because she herself was fat as hell.  And slim doesn’t mean slim/curvy.  No, slim means flat chested, skeletal, and with cheekbones that would make Maleficent jealous.  So unless you’re a  fluorescent toothpick, it sucks to be you.  Don’t believe me?  Attend an Indo Pakistani party, especially one where lots of middle age ladies that are looking for brides for their sons are invited.  If you’re pale, I guarantee you’ll have a fan following within the hour.

So the mother of the cousin of the friend said nothing.  She just sighed and said her daughter would never consider a suitor who’s been divorced, twice.  She did that because she herself believed that her daughter, a lovely, round faced, wide eyed, sweet girl, isn’t attractive because she isn’t light skinned or thin.  Which makes no sense because her daughter has plenty of male attention.  Lots of guys find her exotic looking and she’s been asked out often.  She’s aware her mother has had this conversation, but she’s shrugged it off to a way of thinking that’s stupid and illogical, yet something that had been ingrained into her mother and aunt at a young age by their mother and so on.  They’d been through it and it’s hard to change someone’s way of thinking.  Besides, she told me, she’d never marry someone her mother picked out for her, anyway.

Of course, not all Indians and Pakistanis think like this.  As a matter of fact, things are actually getting better in India.  There are now lots of desi  (slang for Indo/Pak, I can use it, I am one of them) actresses and models who are refusing to bleach their skin and take pride in having a tan.  There are “dark is beautiful” campaigns all over the Indian media.  It’s a slow process, overturning centuries of backward thinking, but I’m glad there has been a start.

If you’re wondering if I’ve been through the revolving door that is Indian Pakistani style match making a few times myself, then duh!  You’re right.  Where else would I get my writing material from if not life itself?  I don’t know any desi girl who hasn’t, light or dark.  It’s just the system itself.  It’s barbaric.  But I’m happy to say it was only a few spins before I found myself a sweet guy who couldn’t care less what I weighed or whether or not he’d save on his electricity bill if my skin color wasn’t the right wattage.  My husband says the thing he liked about me the most is that I was easy to talk to.  Now if it were only that convenient for everyone.