Gustafer Yellowgold

This past Saturday we took Azita to her second show at one of our local music joints, Jammin Java. Both Roger and I tend to like indie music more than popular, overly-produced stuff. This is not to say that we don’t like Coldplay or bands like Wilco that are a lot more popular and produced than when we first fell in like with them. But really, there’s something about a self-produced song that holds a lot more charm than music that’s been claimed by the major music labels.

We’re doing our best to give Azita just such an appreciation for music. This is mostly because I think I may slit my wrists if she ever asks me to take her to a Hannah Montana or Britney Spears concert. I just can’t have it. There’s a little more selfishness to our madness, though. We both love live music, and I hate to leave Azita on a weekend to go off to a show when I already see so little of her.

Jammin Java and many small music venues in the area have presented a solution to our dilemma — children’s shows that adults can love on weekend mornings and afternoons and on weekdays before the 11pm crowd we were once a part of takes over the place. On Saturday, we caught a musical act that more than fits this bill. Gustafer Yellowgold.

This is happy and haunting music. It sticks with you. Two days later, I am still humming these tunes. And kids love it too. Azita literally climbed up on a table and started dancing, and I’m not using the word “literally” in that annoying way that people tend to use it. I really mean “literally.” As in, she was sitting on a table and swaying, kicking her feet, moving her arms and bobbing her head to the music. It was pretty awesome, and it made us laugh so infectiously you could almost see bubbles of laughter floating over the audience making everyone else laugh also.

Not only was the music pretty awesome, but it was accompanied by stop-frame animation. So it was that we learned the story of Gustafer Yellowgold, who comes from the sun and now lives in St. Cloud, Minnesota with his best friend, Slimothy the eel. Over the course of an hour, their lives were sung and illustrated more lyrically and whimsically than anything I’ve ever seen.

Critics have compared this show to the Yellow Submarine, but I think it was far more sublime.

Gustafer Yellowgold. Remember the name, and go buy the CD/DVD set immediately. This is a commandment. You will love it.

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zahra, March 29th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Portable Soundtrack

My life has been very hectic as of late, and things just seem to be going awry at every turn. Coincidentally, one of Azita’s favorite things to say lately is “uh-oh.” And she says it a lot.  I accidentally send an email to the wrong person. “Uh-oh.” I realize I’ve been walking around with broccoli in my teeth all day. “Uh-oh.” She has an uncanny way of saying it at the exact time I realize I’ve made a mistake or a complete ass out of myself. I’m starting to think she can read my mind or just catches on to a whole lot more than I give her credit for.

It’s almost like she’s become a portable soundtrack for my life at the moment. I have to admit that it’s kind of nice. There’s nothing like hearing a toddler say “uh-oh” in that cute, sing-songy voice to make a seemingly disasterous or embarrassing situation seem trivial and even funny.

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zahra, March 24th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Weighing Our Hurts

Most people if they think back to when they were a kid can remember at least one time being told, “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” In most cases that was a load of bull. I can definitely attest to that. But in some cases, maybe it’s true.

I’ve been a very lucky work-outside-the-home mother. Azita has a generally sunny disposition, and not only does she have a natural attachment to me but she is pretty secure in that attachment. She’s always known that I will be there for her. There was a very brief period of separation anxiety when she learned how to crawl, but I expected it. Everything I read and was told had prepared me for this, and when it did occur it was so mild. It really only lasted about 4 days. Only 4 painful daycare drop-offs, and actually they were not so bad. She did not seem SO upset.

Something has happened in the past week, however. Azita still barrels into daycare. She still steals a hug from her daycare provider and makes googly eyes at her little buddies and still grabs the nearest toy she can find. But she does all of this with a careful eye on me and my movements. At the first sign of movement towards the door, it begins.

First she says runs over and gives me a hug. Of course I stoop down and give her a hug and a kiss and tell her that maman loves her and will be back soon.

Then she tries a different tactic — saying bye to everyone in the room as she runs to the door and tries to make her way out of there with me. As if she will make me believe it is really pickup and not drop-off time.

When she sees trickery isn’t working, she pulls out the big guns:

Crying for Maman

Crying for Maman

This isn’t at daycare, but you get the idea. To make matters worse, she does the holding on to my leg for dear life thing as I try to walk out the door. Now I’m trying to walk out the door as fast as I can because I don’t want to cry in front of her. And you better believe I cry. I cry as soon as we are down the street and beyond all sight lines from the daycare windows. And I continue to cry until we are within sight of my office.

Good friends and family remind me that Azita probably stops crying within minutes of my departure (and her daycare provider confirms this), and that in the end this really does hurt me more than it hurts her. I know this is true. But for now, I’m glad I always apply my (very limited) makeup in the car, so I’m a little less of a mess when I walk into the office every morning. The last thing I need to accompany the snot and remnants of Azita’s breakfast that usually coat my top is rivulets of smeared makeup on my cheeks.

And that concludes the glass sixteenth full portion of this blog. I will now return to my regularly programmed complaining. Oh wait. I was complaining, wasn’t I?

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zahra, March 22nd 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Happy New Year!

Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, celebrated by Iranians as the first day of the new year — Nowruz. To celebrate, we create a haft sin (pronounced seen). The haft sin is a table that is decorated with symbols of life, birth, happiness and other good things. Specifically, you must put 7 things that begin with the letter “sin”, which is basically equivalent to an “S” in the English alphabet. If you’re traditional, those 7 things will be an apple (seeb), garlic (seer), ground sumac (somagh), vinegar (sehrkeh), a dried fruit called senjed, a wheat pudding called samanoo, and sprouts (sabzi).

I’m pretty traditional sometimes.

Haft Sin, Noruz

Haft Sin, Nowruz 1389 (2010)

Most people also include some painted eggs, something in the colors of the Iranian flag (red, white and green), a mirror, some flowers (usually hyacinths, but daffodils and tulips work well also), some poetry books, goldfish, and candles. The candles in particular add a nice ambiance when night falls.

Haft Sin at Night, Nowruz 1389 (2010)

Haft Sin at Night, Nowruz 1389 (2010)

If you’re like my family, you’ll also sometimes put a baby on the haft sin.

I have a picture of me at the same age hanging out with the sabzi and garlic. It’s cute. Admit it.

Regardless of how you deck out your haft sin or if you even create one, Happy Nowruz to all. Even if you’re not Iranian, it’s the first day of Spring folks! And that is surely something for everyone to celebrate.

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zahra, March 19th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Weighing In

I’m one of those lucky people who really like to exercise. I love the feeling of moving. The faster, the better. But I sometimes hate taking the time away from Azita since I see so little of her when she’s awake during the week. On the exercise front, this has been one of the biggest roadblocks to getting back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Some days I come home and just can’t bear to leave Azita for an hour to workout, so I don’t. But from past experience I know that I need to exercise at least 5 hours a week to get the results I want.

So, in my renewed mission to lose weight, I decided to tackle this issue. It was tough, because I’m used to wanting to workout for an hour and half or more per day. I didn’t know how to deal with not wanting to do this other than to just not do it. The warmer and increasingly brighter days have helped some. When I miss my baby too much, I take a break from more rigorous exercise, put Azita in my Mei Tai carrier, and go for a long, brisk walk. The more hills, the better. Getting exercise while spending time with Azita has been an effective strategy for sure.

I’ve also been for the past several months working out at butt crack of dawn thirty, or 5:30am as some of you may know it. It sucks. But it only sucks for the first 10 minutes. Once I’m warmed up, things pick up a bit. It helps me wake up in the morning. When I’m done, it feels great to know that I’m done for the day. I can go for a walk in the evening or just play with Azita and know that I don’t need to find a way to fit in a workout. And the best part is, I get the workout in when Azita is still asleep, so I don’t miss any more of her waking minutes than I need to.

On the eating front, I’ve been maintaining my usual healthy diet. Just less of it. Getting back to recording all of my food intake has been a good exercise for me. At the very least, it renews my focus. And, it’s going pretty well.

How well?

Well, I’ve lost 4 pounds, and I fit into all of my pre-pregnancy clothes as of this past weekend. There’s nothing like going shopping for a new spring wardrobe in an old box of clothes sitting in the corner of your closet. Especially when that box is labeled “pre-pregnancy.”

Now 16 more pounds to go. But, I’d be happy with just 6. Yeah I said it. It’s so very NOT Type A of me. Can you believe it? I’d be happy if I don’t do as well as I want. That’s the sound of Zahra getting zen.

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zahra, March 16th 2010 | Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Food + Fitness

Spunky Munchkin

Last week I walked into Azita’s daycare to pick her up, and lo and behold she had a red, inflamed nose and a blood-spotted shirt. Someone had an accident in the playground it seems, but never fear…

…because she doesn’t. She’s still my fearless, spunky munchkin. And from what I hear she was just as brazen on the playground the next day.

p.s. Check out those chompers. It only took her 14 months, but there they are. A couple fully sprouted teeth.

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zahra, March 15th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

A Life Unheard

I’ve been feeling a bit down lately. Partially because a great plague has befallen our family, and it truly sucks. I’m a bit of a hyper, always on the go sort of person, and this illness has stopped me in my tracks, and it’s made Azita a big old grumpy puss. I’m not used to this because she’s almost always happy and cheerful.  Luckily this bug seems to be on its way out. But my general malaise remains firmly planted. This morning on my way in to work, as I sat there dreading the rest of my day (a regular occurrence as of late), I realized why.

I live a life unheard.

I walk through my days piping up when I think I have something to contribute to a conversation, and no one hears me. I go to work 5 days a week and have discussions in my area of expertise, and I leave the conversation realizing that no one listened to anything I had to say. My thoughts on the subject had no bearing on any outcomes. So I spend my days implementing other peoples’ ideas, and it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating because I went to school for a really long time. Too long. And in 8 years of my decade of higher education I studied the same thing to death, and then I found a job in the same field and worked in a career doing these things. And 13 years later none of that matters. I’m doing mindless work, and I don’t have a mind that likes to sit still.

Then I go home and things aren’t much better.

Let me preface what’s to come with a statement that I think I have a great husband. He does laundry and dishes, and he even scrubs the bathroom floor. With bleach, just how I like it. But he doesn’t listen to me.

Maybe it’s because he’s a man. We have a conversation, and when I’m talking I can see in his face that he’s thinking about something else. More than likely he’s thinking about the next thing he wants to talk about, because inevitably he interrupts me to express his opinion. And he never remembers anything I tell him, like “don’t forget we have x, y and z this Saturday” or “the doctor said we need to do a, b and c at Azita’s checkup.” He always insists I never tell him these things. Anyone in my family can tell you that I have a freakishly impeccable memory. I can remember conversations I heard when I was 4 years old nearly word for word. I can remember exactly what I wore to the first day of school in kindergarten. I can remember the exact cash register in the exact Giant near my childhood home where my sister bit me when I was 7 and drew blood because she wanted to sit on the bag tray at the end of the register’s conveyor belt. I’m just saying, I have a good memory, and if I remember that I said something, I said it.

My husband never remembers anything I say, because he never listens to it in the first place.

I expect a little of this in life. I know that what I have to say is not always interesting. We can’t always be on all the time. I also know people are sometimes preoccupied with other things. I myself am guilty of not listening quite a lot for this very reason. We are all busy and harried at times. Sometimes I can hardly hear a conversation because my mind is racing and mulling over the million things that need to get done. But when someone talks to me, usually I’m listening AND hearing.

I was raised in a home where children were seen and not heard. As an adult, though, I’m used to being heard.  I mean, in a work setting, I frequently know what I’m talking about. And in a personal setting, well, I think I’m usually nice and pretty damn funny. I’ve been known to entertain a room with my wacky stories, and I think I have an interesting opinion about some things.

I guess I don’t know how I got in this situation. It’s pretty damn lonely life never being heard, and the worst part is that I sometimes think I’ve resigned myself to this being the way life is. But I’m not ready (and I hope I never will) to walk through life like J. Alfred Prufrock. I may be a loner at heart, but I need some engagement to keep me going.

So, today I RSVPed “Yes” for a working mamas playdate. I’m going to make some working mama friends, and we’re going to play in a ball pit with our babies and hopefully talk. And I’m looking forward to it and feeling better about things already, because there’s nothing like taking action in the present to turn life around.

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zahra, March 9th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Uncategorizable Ramblings

Kissing the Hand That Force-feeds You

Roger and Azita are both napping, which leaves me hanging out alone on the couch with a sleeping baby on my lap mindlessly flipping through channels. There is nothing on t.v. on a Saturday morning. Probably because most people are out and about. I’d like to be out and about, but my entire family is napping (even the cats). So, this is how I ended up watching a History Channel show on hot dogs. And that is how I learned that the Oscar Mayer weiner jingle is so popular that not only has it been the longest used jingle for any product, but people actually used to call radio stations and request that they play it.

Wh-wh-wh-what?

Talk about kissing the hand that is trying to force feed you. This isn’t entirely shocking to me, I guess. I remember when I was a kid, people used to sing that McDonalds jingle that was basically a somewhat musical rendition of their menu. I remember it was also one of the most popular double-dutch rhymes on the blacktop. I’ll admit that I participated in said recitation of the commercial jingle many times, but I LOVED DOUBLE-DUTCH. I had to if I wanted to participate.

I know, I know. Would I jump off a bridge if every else did? Well, actually, I might jump off a bridge if everyone else did. If it looked fun, I would. And double-dutch is fun, so I jumped off the bridge. OKAY? Cut me a little slack. I was 8.

But here’s what I wouldn’t do.  I would never, ever, even if my life depended on it call a radio station and request that they play the jingle for a commercial product. That’s where I draw the line.

I mean, I worked in advertising for two of the most mind-numbing years of my working life, and I can tell you that those people don’t need the American people to inflate their egos any more. Their heads will burst.

So if you ever get the urge to call a radio station and request that they play the Alka-Seltzer jingle or the NFL something or another theme song. STOP. Think of the ad men and their heads. Only you can save them from spontaneous cranial combustion.

This is a public service announcement brought to you by the Council for the Abolition of Corporate Asskissing (CACA).

p.s. I’m talking a big game here, because let’s face it I’ll do what it takes (except for selling my body) to earn a paycheck and put a roof over my and my family’s heads. I just won’t enjoy it. So there.

………………………………
Zahra Safavian
aim: zindex3
m: 571.289.5369
h: 703.351.4424

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zahra, March 6th 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorizable Ramblings

Eh-Baba and Bah Bah

This morning after a night of only a couple hours of sleep, Azita wakes up, jumps to a sitting position and gives me a big slobbery kiss. On the mouth. And she says MMMMMMMMmmmmmmm-uh and then giggles. I couldn’t help but laugh semi-hysterically.

Then when she was eating her breakfast, she says “mmmmmmmm. bah-bah-bah-bah” and she rubbed her tummy. When Iranians eat something tasty, they say “bah-bah-bah.” Apparently, Azita has picked that up. And that’s not all. When she stopped eating and moved on to playing with her food, I took her tray away, and she wasn’t too thrilled about that. Her response? “eh-baba.” If you’re Iranian, you know why that’s cute. It’s just such an adult thing to say. The way she said it, it was like an old man was talking in my little toddler’s voice. You can also probably imagine from whom she picked that up.

Me thinks it’s time for Roger to get serious about watching his language before she moves from copying the eh-babas and bah-bahs on to the “F*%! you, asshole” and other choice things Roger likes to say when he drives, walks or does just about anything.

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zahra, March 4th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood

Ignore It and It Will Go Away

I’m still pondering the topic of weight, everyone. Still. I know. You’re thinking, “Wait. When did she ever stop. That’s all she talks about. Blah blah blah.” Whatevs. Just hear me out.

Recently, actually maybe a year ago, someone told me a story about a woman. A woman who had a weight problem. And the person who told me the story said something like this: “She is always dieting and exercising and watching her calories. And she won’t eat anything with sugar or carbs. And she’s still fat. I think this just goes to show you that if you think about your weight all the time, you will only gain weight. If people could just not think about it, everyone would be thin and healthy.”

Now the woman who told me this story is skinny. Naturally skinny. At any dinner I’ve been to with her, she eats twice as much as I do. And she drinks lots of wine and has dessert and appetizers. And her idea of exercising is to go for a walk, and not even a really brisk one or long one at that. And with all that, she was a size 2. When pregnant even.

I’ve covered how much I exercise and restrict my calories. It sucks because I’ve had to do this my whole life. Ok, maybe not the first 5 years, but I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve been on a diet since I was 5 years old. Still, this is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I make a point of trying to make the best of it. At least having to always eat right and focus on healthy eating and exercise habits means that I will never be shocked when I hit 40 (in only three years, people!) and all of a sudden can’t stay skinny while subsisting on fast food. Or when I realize I’m a size 2 with shockingly high cholesterol. None of that will ever happen to me.

I’m just saying, I’m not complaining.

But, I am annoyed. One year later, I’m still annoyed. Because I hate (and I did mean to use that strong of a word) people who are naturally skinny and who think that those who aren’t just need to do what they do to be like them. Not thinking about food or exercise will not make me lose weight. And neither will going for a 30 minute walk every day. Nor will eating turkey or fish. Or any of the other ideas imparted onto me by those who don’t have this problem. And anyways, who ever said I want to be like these people.

I realize that there are some people who are fat, and they are fat because they have bad habits. But it’s really none of my business how they got fat. Nor is it my place to tell them how to lose the weight. That is between them and their doctor.

It just galls me when people think all fat people are fat because they are lazy and have no self-control. And I swear that if I hear another ludicrous weight loss suggestion from someone wearing size 2 pants, I’m going to kick them in the shins and run away.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

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zahra, March 3rd 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Categorizable Rantings, Food + Fitness
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