Savor the Cute - Get it Documented . . . !

Because you will forget all this sweetness and cuteness and unconditional love that they were able to give you .

You know, before they decided you suck.

It really all goes by SOOOO fast, like freaky fast.

All Images Courtesy of and under copyright by Koru Photography

Images Courtesy of Koru Photography

A few weeks ago, I told you guys about an amazing photographer who had done a lovely family shoot for us and some unexpected "crap" went down.


Like, ALL OVER.

So, we were hoping to get some more pictures of us and oh yeah, the kids. So, imagine my sheer joy when Kristen from Koru Photography contacted me to tell me that she is doing "Bunny Days Specials." and I wanted to make sure you all knew about this, because this is some seriously cool shiz.

Kristen has rented a quaint old building in historic Aldie, VA (YES it's heated!!). She will be taking classic, traditional and beautiful shots of your child with or without bunnies. Special pricing is $25 for the session and $25 for each digital file. Other pricing specials will be offered. This is a great opportunity to get beautiful portraits that stand the test of time - at an affordable price. Book by February 26th and take 20% off your purchase.

Saturday, March 13

Sunday, March 14

Saturday, March 20

Sunday, March 21

Slots are filling up fast, so please sign up early! This will be her last big special for at least 6 months, so you don't want to miss it!

Please feel free to pass this note along to others who might be interested.

Note from Masala Chica - Guys this is HUGE - she is pretty much waiving the sitting fee by discounting it so heavily. You WILL have great pictures.

Here are some of her amazing pictures from 2010:

Get the information - here is the 411 - Kristen Staples at Koru will tell you what you need to know.

Kristen Staples
Koru Photography
www.koruphoto.com
www.koruphoto.blogspot.com
Facebook: Koru Photography
703-728-3487
All Images Courtesy of and under copyright by Koru Photography

Don't let your baby's pictures turn out like this:

XOXO,
Kiran

Phony Baloney

Ok - so you're going to think I am an impostor. (See Exhibit A).

Exhibit A

A total fake. (See Exhibit B).















Exhibit B.

A complete and utter PHONY. See dumbass in Exhibit C.

Exhibit C

I was supposed to be in Dublin, but some things came up both at home and at work. Plans got changed. The trip is postponed, but I forgot that I had auto-scheduled Sunday's post, guest-blog from Shell (Things I Can't Say) who so graciously agreed to step in for me while I was away - and everyone's warm wishes to have fun abroad made me feel really guilty.

I almost wanted to just keep pretending I had caught that Virgin Atlantic flight over because it would be nice to imagine myself sitting back enjoying a pint in some far off land while listening to some Irish folk songs in some random little pub in Dublin, but this is NOT the case.

I did, however, get to watch the drama of the US/Canada game (which was quite amazing) - but I am, in fact, still in Ashburn, VA.

And while many of my neighbors are of Irish descent - it is just not exactly the same.

I still plan to introduce some great writers to you over the next two weeks, so please stay tuned.

Hope you all had a great weekend and have an even better week.

XOXO,
Kiran

Coming out of her Shell . . .

All. I am in Dublin. This is a cool trip but in all honesty, I will be on planes to and from my destination longer than the time that I will be there.

But, still. I get to go to Dublin and I have never been.

Note to any dumbass who wants to go rob my house. Because I hear that is what happens when you are stupid and tell people you aren't around. (Note to self, don't call yourself stupid or people will start to believe it). Anyhoo, be forewarned, my husband is prepared.

To. Kick. Your. Ass.

Ok, maybe not. But we have a mac daddy security system. Also my 2 1/2 year old bites and will definitely try to kick you somewhere very sensitive if you try to steal any of her toys.

So without further ado, I introduce to you Shell, from Things I Can't Say.

Shell is a sassy chickadee. She is equal parts funny, sweet and smarty pants.

She is also an innovator. You may be scratching your head. Seriously. She is.

She invents cool words. Like, she has a whole theory on what the mean girls from junior high school should be called when they procreate. And it's brilliant.

She has agreed to be my first guest blogger of this week and came here to bestow her gift for telling it like it is.

I hope you love her just as much as I do . . .

Drumroll. Heeeeerreee's Shell!


While Kiran is off traveling, she is letting me take over guest post on her blog. All her traveling reminds me of just how much I hate traveling with my kids. I wrote this post a while back, right after we got back from visiting family. Because I have three boys five and under, sometimes things slip past me and I never got around to actually posting it.

So, it's finding a home here at Masala Chica.

I want to be done visiting others.

Like, forever.

Anyone who wants to see us, come visit.

We're not going anywhere.

Then, when my kids are doing normal kid things: playing around, doing a little bit of running, being sort of loud...well, it's in my house, where it's okay. Where I don't worry that they are breaking things and I don't really care if they are disturbing you...okay, maybe I worry about it, but it's in my home, so I'm not worried about them disturbing your usually peaceful home.

Plus, I can send them to their rooms if I want or to the playroom or separate them. There are options. We are not stuck in someone's cramped living room. Or having to run around to a million different places.

Meals can be on our schedule, not yours. Which means fewer meltdowns from children who are used to eating THREE HOURS before you even start talking about what we are going to do for dinner.

And, when it's time for bed, I can follow our usual routine.

One that I've worked on very hard.

It's EASY. My boys go to bed without a fight. Two go to bed at 6:30 and the other at 7. Everyone falls asleep minutes after being put to bed. There is no fighting, no aggravation. It's smooth, peaceful, and quick.

But, that is only if we are HOME.

If all 5 of us are in a hotel room together...it's a freaking nightmare.

And, I'm already exhausted from trying to keep my boys quietly playing in your tiny living room all day long.

So, to have two running around, wrestling, and one screaming in a pack-n-play because he can clearly see all the madness...and to have everyone only fall asleep after many threats, sometimes actually being held down(oh, I mean cuddled)...it's exhausting.

So, until my kids are all over the age of oh, say...um... 12...we're not traveling to you.

You want to see us, you come to us.

Shell blogs at Things I Can't Say, where she spills it all on her blog. Please don't ask her if she is going to keep trying to get a girl, as three kids are quite enough and there is only room for one princess in her house anyway. Please stop by and say hi!

Awww Slap!

So, I do this.

I write something very serious and heartwarming which shows you how I view the world (see yesterday's post) . . . and then it's like I get scared you will see too much - so I pull back, way back and retreat back into my smart ass self.

Call it a defense mechanism.

Anyway - today I am being a jackass over at DC Metro Moms - please go and visit.

The subject of today's post is basically how the 30-something "me" would have to kick the 20-something "me's" butt because of how obnoxiously supercilious and judgmental I used to be.

This sounds confusing. I know, I know. But you guys get me. So you will get it.

I think.

Here is 20-something me with John, before we were married.



So go on over and check it out.

Did I Really Say That? Really?

Have a fantastic weekend!

XOXO,
Kiran

If Hope Went on Sabbatical . . .

I read this article yesterday and it really made my heart break.

Now, if you are anything like me, you are bad about clicking through on hyperlinks because you are super busy and who has time to go read some other links when you have to get work done, grab some coffee and buy groceries while putting on lip gloss. Hmm?

So I will provide you with a very brief synopsis of the story.

In actuality, it is a happy story. Well, in a way. A man, a 32 year old man, was reunited with the father he never knew.

The father, Abel Madariaga, has been searching for his son and never gave up hope that he would find him.

Abel's wife, Silvia, was kidnapped when she was pregnant over 32 years ago. She and her husband were part of a leftist group in Argentina, which was then a dictatorship. Their group was targeted for death by the government.

The last time Abel saw Silvia, she was being pushed into a Ford by members of the Argentinian army.

Silvia, a surgeon who helped the poor, gave birth to their son while in a torture chamber. Survivors who were also imprisoned said the baby was taken away from her and shortly afterward, she disappeared.

There is a lot more to the story and to the torment that both the son and the father suffered through for the past three decades.

But they are together now. How amazing is that?

32 Years. Of not knowing.

"Hugging him that first time, it was as if I filled a hole in my soul," the father said.

Reading this story brought home for me the importance of hope. Such a short word. One that doesn't really seem to have the stature of longer, multiple syllable words.

4 letters. That's all.

H.O.P.E.

I think about how easy (ok not easy. Nothing sounds like it was "easy" for this man) it could have been for this father to have given up. To have just believed that his son had been killed, along with the other 400 children who had been kidnapped by birth and murdered during the mass genocide by former Argentinian dictatorship.

I think about how hard it must have been for him to live his life with the image of his wife being taken from him. And to have that be the last image of her in his mind.

I think about how he put his socks on in the morning. And got out of bed.

And found the desire to eat again.

How did he find the strength to breathe?

Did he feel guilt the first time that he was able to laugh again? Was he able to laugh again?

I read another great post today by my friend Nathanael about some of the unwarranted cruelty that other parts of the world live with.

Day in and day out. And become accustomed to.

Life is not always considerate. Sometimes it feels like the weakest are the ones that take the most blows, it is the impoverished that feel the pain of yet another torturous drought.

It is the unprotected children that live in fear of great uncertainty. The elderly who are already accepting the vulnerability of age who cannot pay for another prescription.

In the end, what brings most of these people forward is HOPE.

Whether it is hope in God, hope in change, hope in tomorrow being another day, hope that someone, somewhere is listening and will make a difference.

I HOPE that the journey forward for this father and son is one of peace and love and that they can exorcise many of the demons that they have lived with the past 3 plus decades.

Knowing how life works, I am guessing they still have some bumps in the road.

But for them, I HOPE.

XOXO,
Kiran

Stringing Me Along

I just want to be clear.

Crystal Light clear.

I know that I have been saying things like, "Oh, I am off to London for a few days."

When I say things like that, please know that I have no misconceptions of being a high flyer or mistakenly think of myself as cool.

I oftentimes don't know what my work schedule will be like before I fly to these destinations, so I don't often get to use the time to re-unite with old friends who may be in those cities. I always plan to email them but knowing how often times, late nights at work or business dinners creep up, I sadly end up not getting to them with enough notice.

So I will usually work late, catch a casual dinner at a pub with colleagues and go back to my room and work until the wee hours of the morning, usually in preparation for some meeting the next day.

Room service on those late nights is not unusual.

And sometimes I even end up eating at restaurants alone.

Now, that may sound lonely, but in actuality, it's kind of nice. I do it rarely, as I will usually go wherever my colleagues want to go.

But on the rare occasion where they can't go out, I savor these times to myself.

Maybe it is the peace that comes with knowing I can order whatever I want on the menu without having to worry about when my two and a half year old Shaila is going to have a meltdown. Maybe it is because I don't have to cut up anybody's food into itty, bitty pieces while dodging said pieces of food when they come flying back at my head.

I don't have to give apologetic looks to surrounding tables because of the loud outbursts from Shaila, which then causes a subsequent outburst from Nico, my six month old.

When I leave, there are no surpising stickers stuck to my butt. Because it's always fun to come home after being out for several hours to find Hello Kitty hanging out on your freaking backside (which was never my best angle anyway).

And my kids are loud.

Like, really freaking loud.

Which is why we really don't go out that much. On the occassions where we brave it, we end up so miserable that I don't even have the energy to blog about it.

Well, almost don't have the energy. You know me, I freaking write about everything.

So, the other day, when I was going through Security at Washington Dulles, the cranky Security person pulled my purse aside after it went through the x-ray and asked if they could open it to check it.

I wasn't sure what the issue was. Had I left something liquid in there? Like a hand sanitizer? Were they going to bust me for having a lipgloss or something?

I was really worried, because I really am mortified when I do anything to slow down the security process. I try to do everything in record speed so that my fellow passengers won't get mad at me.

And that's when the Security crankster pulled out this long, white stick.

She looked at me in askance, and I looked back just as clueless. I could tell the rest of the people in the security line were also perplexed.

And then it hit me.

String Cheese.

String. Freaking. Cheese.

A Dried up, nasty ass piece of string cheese.

Shaila must have decided that she wanted me to have a memento of her.

(Ok, let's be honest. She probably got tired of the one she was eating one day and decided that my purse was as good a place as any to get rid of it. )

Oh no, she DIDN'T.

I could tell ALL the people behind me in line thought I was a total high roller.

Thanks, Shaila. Seriously, you're just. . . . Hmm. Well "The Best" just doesn't do you justice.

So please don't think that I think I am cool. The string cheese debacle just confirmed it. My life is one string cheese debacle after another and lest I ever think I am too cool for school, I am sure Girlfriend will knock me off my pedestal.

Cuz that's how she rolls.

XOXO,
Kiran

Repost: Thank You Letter to My Son

I am back from London. While I missed Nico and Shaila, I don't think I realized exactly how much until I held them in my arms again.

Nico recently turned six months old. In some ways it feels like yesterday - in some ways it feels so, so very long ago.

Here is a re-post of an old post I had done last year. Hope you enjoy.

XOXO,
Kiran

A Thank You Letter to my Son

Dear Nico,

I know that over the past few weeks, I have lamented the loss of my sleep, sanity and general well-being in the posts in this blog.

Luckily, you are too young to read and so you don't yet resent me for talking smack about you behind your back.

All kidding aside, while I joke in these posts about you and your sister, Shaila, I do want to make sure that you understand that this is just your mother's way.

I also wanted to tell you a little story.

You were born earlier this year on August 6th, which makes you almost 4 months old as I write this. My pregnancy with you was much smoother than the one I had with your sister (and I have to say, sometimes I think it's a strong indicator of what is to come).

But you still kicked my a!@, just a little. I was on bedrest towards the end and the last few weeks, I worked from home while lying on the couch. I conducted conference calls with clients in Germany and tried not to be overly concerned about the frequent contractions that started in my 28th week . . .

The week that you were born, Shaila came home from day care with a fever and developed a rash. We did not think much of it, and being the feisty little trooper that she is, she kicked that virus in the butt and was on her merry way back to her friends within a day.

And then you came! 4 weeks early, but you were absolutely perfect. You had the teeniest hands and you seemed so much smaller to me than your sister had been.

But you were YOU, and I was a fan. Instantly.

Uncle Al took this picture of you when you were 1 day old

When we came home from the hospital, I started to feel a little fatigued, and I figured it was just the "new mommy" kind of fatigue. I did not think much of it, until my sister (your Munni Mausi) suggested I take my temperature and I realized I was running a fever.

The next day, so were you.

101.5.

We had to take you to the hospital and before I knew what hit me, they were taking you away from us to run a spinal tap on you.

My son, who did not yet weigh even 6 lbs.

A SPINAL TAP.

When the test results came back, the doctor informed your father, me and your Munni Mausi, who was also with us that day, that you tested positive for Spinal Meningitis and that they would need to keep you in the hospital for several days until they determined if it was viral or bacterial.

If it was viral, they said, he will fight it on his own. If it is bacterial, well . . .

"Well what?" we asked.
"If its bacterial . . .we will cross that bridge when we come to it," the Doctors said, sounding more positive than their eyes indicated.

You were 7 days old.

I felt like I had lost the ability to breathe.

Within minutes, we were brought up to what would be "your room" for several days and your dad and I watched the nurses hook you up to an IV and a steady stream of the 5 anti-biotics you had to be on, just in case it was determined that this was bacterial.

It was your sister's second birthday the next day.

You lost some weight and before I knew it, were almost below 5 lbs. I waited anxiously and tried not to keep crying but I have to tell you now, that I failed miserably.

I held you as much as I possibly could and you remained pretty listless. We made a lot of promises to you, just making sure you knew what was in store for you if you pulled through. Of how much I would love you. And how much your Dad would teach you.

And how cherished you would be.

We were in the hospital for 4 days. It felt like 40.

I would hear other children in the pediatrics ward crying and my heart broke for them and their parents as well. I did not know what prognosis brought these other children to the hospital but I hoped that these parents would all be able to leave with a smile on their faces, their hearts intact and their children in their arms as soon as possible.

We prayed to God a lot.

So did the rest of your family and all our friends.

You had a lot of people rooting for you.

At the end of what felt like a four day sentence, your doctor came running into our room with a huge smile on her face and relief clearly spelt all over it to inform us that you could go home and that you would be able to kick this thing. That your little body had been working hard to fight what was a virus which had attacked your spinal fluid.

A virus that your sister had passed to me, which I then passed to you.

And you were going to be ok.

(Dr. Deepa Shah - I LOVE YOU. I will always remember your face telling me that news I prayed for days to hear. So beautiful.)

I know that over the course of your life, you will have challenges and you will deal with adversity. Some of it, we can help you with. And sometimes, you will have to face it alone.

But, from what I can see, baby boy, you are the biggest trooper. I know that whatever you will face, it will be with grace and dignity and that extra dose of spunkiness which I know you have. I have seen you in action and I am blown away.

It's Thanksgiving tomorrow and I just wanted to let you know how much you and your sister mean to me.

Thank you for making my life that much richer for every day you have been alive.

For all the jokes I make about you waking us up at night, another part of me is also always grateful to hear your cry.

Love,
Mom

P.S. And just so we're clear, I am still 100% on board with you trying to sleep through the night. So let's try to keep working on that, ok?

Put Those Away!

Over the past few weeks, I have been really anxious about a training I was running for the European arm of my company.

I don't know what it is about Europeans that intimidates me. Maybe it's the dry humor of the Germans or the stoic looks of the blondetastic team from Denmark. Maybe it is the sarcastic nature of my British colleagues or perhaps it is the keen fashion sense which they all seem to display across the board which just always makes me feel dowdy in comparison.

So the training is done. I think it went well. And I can breathe again.

Despite my concerns, the Germans were very sweet, the Danish team even laughed at my jokes (ok, just one of them did. That or he had the hiccups) and I held my own with my sarcastic British friends.

They still were all dressed way cooler than me, but that's ok.

But you know how when you are nervous about something, you psyche yourself out about it so much that you just get overwhelmed by the anxiety and stress of it all?

Does that ever happen to you?

And do you have weird dreams about it - like the kind where you are in the 7th grade again and in gym class and all of a sudden all your clothes are gone and everybody is laughing at you, including your gym teacher AND the hot guy from your math class.

One of my old sorority sister's just posted a status on Facebook saying how she just gave a three hour training with her fly down. She realized afterwards, of course.

I totally empathize - I fear this kind of stuff and it happens quite often. Like any time I eat something green, it will end up stuck in my teeth and I won't know until four hours after I ate it.

It's just way the world works.

One time, I had a meeting with one of the Senior VPs at my company regarding a new company initiative. I vowed to myself that I would NOT psyche myself out. That I could handle it.

I was excited to meet with him and made a special effort with my appearance that morning.

Hair. Check.
Makeup. Check.
Cute shirt. Check.

I walked into the meeting with confidence. I was very composed as I spoke with him in great detail about how I thought the project should proceed and what role I could play in it. He then asked me about my future plans and aspirations - kind of a "What do you want to be when you grow up, Kiran?"

He had some great suggestions and I left the meeting really pleased with how things had gone. I reached out and shook his hand and told him "I will do what I need to do, to get the job done."

Kind of cheesy. But I was caught up in the wave of my "be all that you can be" frame of mind and went a little overboard.

And then I walked out. As I was patting myself on the back, one of my co-worker's said "Wow! What are you wearing?"

I thought she was complimenting me as I thought I looked pretty good myself, thank you very much.

I saw her eyes widen. "Or should I say what are you NOT wearing?!"

I looked down.

Awww f$$#.

F&^&ity, F%^!, F%$%!

3 out of the 4 buttons on my shirt had opened.

Like, WIDE open.

Like, put those AWAY open.

Or maybe in my haste to leave the house that morning, they had never been fully closed.

I have no idea what that VP thought. He must have been like, "Wow. Sister may need a raise so she can buy some clothes. Or some buttons."

And when he asked me about my career path he was probably thinking what I really wanted was to be a pole dancer or stripper.

And when I told him I would do whatever it took to get the job done, he was probably like, "Uh, yeah. I can see those. I mean, that."

I think I screamed in anguish for about five minutes. My friend thought it was funny and applauded my "strategy" for getting a raise. (No, I did not, by the way). She didn't think I had it in me to be such a hooker. And she also thought I might want to change career paths and invest in some go-go boots.

She told me this as she handed me three singles.

The whole thing was fantastically mortifying.

What has happened to you that is equally as bad? I beseech you to share.

Pretty puh-lease.

XOXO,
Kiran

How to Nab a Surfer and Get Hit (on) by Celebrities

She is the yin to my yang.

Say Hi Yin. (AKA, Monique).

I know we did a blog swap some time ago and so you got a chance to meet her, but I am just saying. Her celebrity encounters always make me want to come back for more. I tell the story of about how Keanu Reeves, freaking Neo himself, threw a menu at her face (who would hurt a face like that? huh? what the hell is wrong with you Neo?) as if it was my own story to tell.

Because her stories become your stories.

Check girlfriend out because she is the real deal. R.E.A.L. Just like Heidi from "The Hills" and her new ginormous assets.

Go visit Surferwife today. Go on now, scoot.

That's girlfriend. on the left.

(Just as an FYI, I made it to London safely, but I am especially sad to be away. Tomorrow is John's birthday and also my sister, Munni's birthday. John also likes to let me know that the 17th is Denise Richard's birthday. I think he thinks if I know this, her cleavage size will rub off on me or something. I am not quite sure . . .).

So go say hi to my girl. Love you, Monique.

Much love and peace.

Kiran

Doin' the Rounds

Hey Guys,

I'm off on a weeklong business trip today and don't anticipate much opportunity to breathe, much less write some cool ass posts or comment on all the lovely writing that my friends do every day.

What I did want to say is this. I have randomly selected 5 of my "bloggy friends" as a highlight each day of this week. If you read me and are not familiar with them, I hope I can use the time to connect you to another soul who loves to write and puts it all out there.

So here goes:

Monday - Salt Says. Salt will give you a little glimpse into the underworld of the Bikram Yoga community. Those who shall not be named. She uses her investigative skills and hard look at life to bring the truth forward.

Great piece, Salt. Or should I say, great pee-ce.

I love this chick. BTW - context is important. She is no hobo. not anymore, anyway.

Salt is a bride to be and the furthest thing from a bridezilla. I heart her. You will too. She is sugar and spice and lots of chunky margarita salt thrown in. My kind of girl.

I will be gone. London here I come. Please pay Miss Salt -tay a visit and tell her you like to holla with masala ;-)

While I am gone, I hope to introduce you to some of the women who make me smile through this crazy blogging thing every day.

Much love. Stay safe.


Kiran

P.S. Comments have been closed. I would much rather you go visit Salt and be opinionated over there and tell her what a nut she was to jump into the baltimore harbor when it was freezing!!!!!(maybe that was what that champagne was for?!!) I still think girflriend is pretty freaking amazing - I just can't believe she did it. Way, way stronger that I am.

Babes in the Snow

Everybody, meet one of my best friends, Liz.

Hi Liz!

Liz, Me, Sang (front)

Brian, John (back)

Ravenswood Vineyard, Sonoma, CA

Liz and I have been friends for many, many years. We have been through a lot together - shared some amazingly good times, some amazingly hard ones. I start fights with her parents' friends at a Knights of Columbus when she is 8 1/2 months pregnant and she just rolls her eyes at me and still loves me.

She is good peeps.

Liz was due to have her baby last week. Her due date came. And it went.

Girlfriend was not happy. But then you know what happened, right? Because everybody knows about that big, monster snowstorm - the largest in Washington, D.C. history - that came last weekend? You know - the one that dumped 3 feet of snow on us?

Yeah. That one.

(I am guessing you know where I am going with this).

So the Friday night, before the storm hits, I call Liz for an update. She sounded pretty miserable and obviously I was worried, but tried to play it cool so as not to cause panic, something which I am often known to do.

She had been to the Doctor that day. He told her to go home, even though she was set to get induced the Monday after the storm. Said, "Nah. It's not happening any time soon."

Now, Liz is really nice. She is way more polite than I am. Because if that had been me, I would have launched my butt off that table, grabbed that Dr. by the collar very calmly said, "Are you effing kidding me!!?? Get this baby out of me NOW, you donkey!"

But Liz is way classier than me and has some manners.

So she went home, with big plans to keep her feet up over the weekend.

And then it started snowing. And snowing.

And oh my goodness, SNOWING.

It's not a question of what happened, because I think you all know what happened. It's when it happened.

There was probably about 1 1/2 feet of snow on the ground when she went into labor in the early, early morning hours. Her husband, Brian, did a heroic job of shoveling out the long, windy and hilly driveway.

They got to the main road, somehow. The Reston Hospital was only a few miles away. It was not where she was registered to deliver, but she didn't have a choice.

But when they got to the main road, there were several trees down on the road. (What is this? Super Mario Brothers???!!)

Brian made it around the first two trees. But when trying to get over the third tree, they got stuck. Their wheels actually got stuck on the branches.

So you know Liz is probably freaking out about now. When you are in labor, every bump seems like agony. But girlfriend is trying to 4-wheel over trees in a blizzard so she was probably just a wee bit uncomfy.

So they called 911. The Fairfax County Fire and Rescue crew came to the rescue and actually had to take a chainsaw to cut through the tree and get the car out. (Is this a "Grey's Anatomy" episode?) In order to get the tree dislodged, the crew actually had to cut into the car, so there you go.

I don't think they liked that car anyway.

The EMTs got Liz and Brian into the ambulance. They battled through the nightmarish roads, roads you could no longer see.

Liz was in excruciating agony at this point. However, the wonderful folks who helped her and husband that night put her at ease immediately. They told her she was in good hands, tried to soothe and assure her that she could get to the hospital.

The driver of the ambulance had actually just returned from volunteering in Haiti, post earthquake. She did not know his name.

One of the EMTs, whose name Liz was able to get, was named David. "David" was always going to be the middle name of Liz and Brian's baby boy. The only question was the baby's first name. As David tried to ease both Liz and Brian's overwhelmed and somewhat frantic minds, he told them that his own son's name was Chase.

And so it was.

And so HE is.

Chase David.

A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.

-- Carl Sandburg

Liz had to wait to get an epidural - she was not registered at this hospital so it took some time to get the paperwork through. By the time she was able to receive relief - she had done much of the labor drug free.

But after she told me her story, I wanted to take drugs. Seriously. It stressed me out a lot.

I want to say "Thank You" to the wonderful team that demonstrated human kindness, strength and tenacity to get Liz and Brian to the hospital during a storm in which you couldn't see two feet in front of you. For bringing this beautiful little boy into the world in a warm hospital room, where he was able to receive care from excellent nursing staff and a phenomenal Ob/Gyn that my friend is now a patient of.

I don't know if Liz and Brian know all the names of the EMTs that helped them that night. If you know any of the volunteer men on the force, please forward this to them and let them know how much what they do while they put their own lives on the lines is SO APPRECIATED.

I want to thank Brian for being an incredible trooper and responding with calm, rather than panic and for getting the job done after all that chaos was said and done.

Iknow that if we are in a crowded room of female friends and if anyone tries to talk about how hard their labor was, I have a feeling we'll have to look around to make sure Liz isn't there. Because if she is there, she's just gonna be shaking her head and saying, "No, I win this won. I seriously beat all of you at this one."

And I kind of have to agree.

On Another Note . . .

Hi everyone. It's me. Kiran.

Yeah, I know you all have missed me. HOLLA!

I know I have not been able to make the rounds and come out and support as I normally do.

Life has been hectic, to say the least. Pounded by snow, the poor D.C. metro area is hobbling along.

Most people don't have to go to work as a result. I, however, have had to work. Since it's been tough for our lovely nanny, Kim, to make it to our house on the nightmarish roads, and since John is sick, the work part has been challenging.

Basically, I have found that your back starts to get really sore when a 2 1/2 year old is climbing on it and yelling at your boss during conference calls and that if I really need to press ALT, CTRL and DELETE, and at the same time, it works well if I press ALT and CTRL with my left hand and use Nico's big toe for the DELETE button.

So, most of my work has been happening at night.

I am supposed to be off to London next week for work which will put me even further out of commission, but they are saying we may get hit with ANOTHER FREAKING STORM.

Anyway, I have a post over at DC Metro Moms today. It's about how music can transport you to another place, another time. Like right now? If I were to hear "Kokomo" I think I would burst into tears because I so want to be in "Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya to Bermuda, Bahamas, come on pretty mama."

Sniff. So come on over to D.C. Metro . . .

That's me in 2005, playing at DC Shamrockfest. Do you like my Pimp jacket? Yeah, me too.

Picture This

Photos Courtesy of Koru Photography.

When Nico was born, I was hell-bent on having a really nice, fancy schmancy studio shoot for him. I wanted to be able to "Ooh" and "Aah" over artistic pictures that would make my children look like little angels from an Anne Geddes calendar. As someone who is very familiar with "automatic mode," I am awed by those who know how to handle a camera.

A friend of mine had recently shot at a studio with her twin babies and her pictures were G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S. It helps that my friend Julia and her husband also happen to be gorgeous - this never hurts in a) making cute babies and b) not looking too troll-like in your pictures afterwards.

So I contacted one of the photographers who had done their shoot, Kristen Staples. She was friendly and sweet as I explained how I wanted an idyllic photo shoot that day. She listened as I described how I wanted lots of pictures of Nico doing a whole lot of nothing, but looking cute because he was too young to talk back to me (He was only 5 weeks old). And I also wanted some pictures of us holding our two year old, Shaila.

I mentioned to Kristen that Shaila was a little. Hmmm. Tempestuous?

Kristen assured me that the shoot was going to go off great. I tried to explain to her that Shaila was going to be with us, which would reduce the odds of success greatly, but she laughed my fears away and said all the right things to make me ready for this very intimidating endeavor.

The pictures from that day came out amazing. Despite the following:

• Nico pooped on me multiple times. You can't tell, but I literally had poop in my hair. Two outfit changes and YUP. Poop. All Over.
• Shaila screamed like a banshee the moment we walked in the door from the moment we left. No amount of candy appeased her. (Years from now, when she accuses me of not including her in family pictures, I'm going to look like a real jerk. Truth is, girlfriend would not sit down for two seconds.)

Looks so peaceful.

Like a mom holding her baby and saying, "Thank you, Son. Thank you, my Little Man."

And the son is saying "Thank you, Mom. This feels comfy. You look nice in black. I am dreaming about sleeping through the night."

But this is what we were really thinking:

Me: "Oh God, Nico! Please don't poop in my hair again. You look like you getting ready to launch. Please son, hold it in."

Nico: "Oh mom. Too late. Sorry."

Shaila is not in this picture because I think she was attempting to take down some of Kristen's equipment at this time. Fun little lady. Spirited, that's what she is.

We had to put a diaper back on my little man. I know its cute to have pictures of babies with their bare butt and all, but not when said butt is projectile shooting poop right up in my grill. Not today buddy. (or should I say, butty?) Shaila was trying to steal candy at this point and dismantle camera stands.

We did get this great one with her and John before she decided to run off to the corner and throw all of Nico's diapers out of his bag and strip down to her diaper.

She is soooo sweet. Really, just misunderstood.

We got a family photo together at the end. Shaila looked like Damion's twin Sister. Maybe just a little less bubbly.

And then in a moment of weakness for her, what could be my favorite picture of the day:

I think two second later after she let me kiss her, Nico pooped on me again and Shaila head butted me, so I was about ready to call it quits.

Throughout the shoot, Kristen and her photography partner, Donna, were fantastic and sweet and brushed away my countless apologies over Spaz #1 (Shaila) and Spaz #2 -(Mr. McPoopers) himself. At some point, I relaxed (as much as you can when your 2 year old wants to light a building on fire) and put myself in Kristen's capable hands.

The clincher for me is that each time Nico pooped on me - Kristen and Donna would get right in there with me and wipe him up and act like it was nothing. They were such professionals and beyond gracious, despite the torment I had heaved upon them. They laughed and played with Shaila and reassured us as they pulled out more wipes and helped me clean my son off without hesitation.

Kristen is now starting her own photography business in the Northern Virgina area called Koru Photography. You should check out some of what she does - she is amazing and documents families exactly as they are meant to be shot (maybe with less #2 on them than me) - and she knows what to do when all the "unexpected" happens at a shoot.

Basically, she carries a LOT of baby wipes.

Here are some of her favorite pictures from 2009. Basically if you live around DC and are looking for a good photographer, check her out and let her know you're a friend of mine. She is now my "Go To" person for family pictures after she was so great to us that day.











Trying to stay warm. 32" of snow hit the DC area! Yikes!!

XOXO,
Kiran

My Husband, The Tooth Model

The ladies at our dentist office love my husband, John. I think it has something to do with how friendly and smiley he is. But whatever it is, they seriously are crushing on him.

I have thought this was cute. It doesn't bother me. When John missed his appointment a few weeks ago because of a last minute out of town trip, he forgot to call the office to cancel. I had an appointment two days later and as soon as I walked in, the receptionist got up and gasped:

"Oh my God! Is John ok!?? We are so worried about him?!!"

I was confused as I hadn't realized he had missed the appointment and I also didn't realize his teeth were that bad that the receptionist would be so concerned.

At this point, one of the hygienists runs out from back and is all "Oh, what happened? This is so unlike him!"

And so I apologized for John (thanks, John) and had to spend the rest of my cleaning listening to how great my husband is, and how funny he is, and oh wow, he must just love our kids soooo much.

And all I was like was, "You got this from his teeth?!!"

As I was leaving the office, the receptionist yelled after me from her desk, "Tell John to keep his next appointment! We don't want him to break our hearts again!"

I love John and all, but when did my dentist's office start the official fan club for him?

So then yesterday, John goes back for his appointment and comes back home all happy and beaming with a story to tell me.

They asked him to become the "face" of their office and be on their website and all over their office walls. They want to hire a photographer and have a photo session so he can flash his pearly whites so his fan club can swoon all over his pictures every day.

He was so excited. But then I reminded him that while he has the loveliest smile in real life, anytime a camera is pointed at him, he becomes Chandler Bing and clams up.

And of course he remembered that part of the problem, but i think he is gonna wing it. I mean, you don't want to lose an opportunity to have your teeth displayed all over the office and website of our local dentist.

Once in a lifetime opportunity, John. You MUST take it.

I will let y'all know how it goes. If you have any good natural smile tips to give my chandler-esque hubby - we would be greatly obliged.

XOXO,
Kiran

Blame it on The Rain

A wise, hip-hopping, lip-synching and follicular-ly gifted duo once said . . .

"Blame it on the rain, yeah, yeah.
Cuz the rain don't mind.
And the rain don't care.
You've got to blame it on something."

So wise. And yet, misunderstood.

I loved Milli Vanilli. They put the "synch" in lip-synch way before Ashley Simpson ever did.

But here's the thing. I choose not to blame it on the rain. Because I don't know if that makes any sense.

What I choose to do instead is blame it El Niño.

I have tried to understand what the bloody hell everybody is talking about with El Niño. And also his equally tumultuous step-sister, La Freakin' Niña (I hear she can be a real be-atch).

Now, I don't know what any of it means. But apparently it keeps coming back. And weird things happen as a result of it. The other day, some crazy ass sharks were doing some massive migration off of Fort Lauderdale, FL. I did not know if this was abnormal or anything, and before doing any research, I thought I would just say,

"Why El Niño?! WHY?"

John looked at me like I was crazy and changed the channel to watch Soccer. Also known as fútbol.

So here is my tip of the day. Blame it on El Niño. Nobody challenges you because I have found that nobody else really knows what the hell it all means anyway. Here are some convenient ways I have looked to El Niño to make my life easier.

If your kids are being particularly naughty and start to resemble Chucky.

Blame it on El Niño.

If you have put on some weight and can't get it off no matter how many doughnuts you eat?

El Effing Niño.

If there is a problem at work and you are sick of dealing with crap from other people?

Conveniently point a finger at Mr. Niño.

If you are a fan of The Bachelor and are upset about what skanky ass girl he kept on this past week.

El Niño.

You picked a fight with an innocent senior citizen at a party for your friend's 70 year old Dad at the Knights of Columbus.

Thanks to you, El Niño, DJ Masala is on sabbatical.

If you were playing with your Wii and found yourself injured and unable to temporarily train for your triathlon while you convalesce.

El Niño was there. Fo' shiz, Monique.

So, what I am asking you to do friends is really ensure that you don't accept responsibility for areas that you may fall short, that you might improve or in which you possibly erred.

Because I know you guys are perfect.

So blame that bastard, El Niño. Come up with creative things you might even be able to blame on him. If you are a Republican, say the stupid shit the Democrats do is because of El Niño. If you are a Democrat and want to explain why Rush Limbaugh is such a moron, point your little finger at El Niño.

Seriously - life is so much easier when we can look to place the blame elsewhere.

XOXO,
Kiran

Bad Bloggy Friend

To my two readers, my cousin Ajay and all my bloggy girflriends (and you too Nathanael),

Sorry that I can't seem to remain consistent. You are probably appreciative to have a break from my talkative, obnoxious self.

Things are good. Shaila's hives broke into full fledged crazy purple marks all over her body and she had to go on some crazy ass meds, but she is back to her full-on, obnoxious self (where do you think she gets it from? Hello, John) so I think we are all good now.

So, a couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine who is a photographer asked me to come up with an original song for her website. I think me posting pictures of myself where I think I look all cool ass with a guitar lead her to believe I am actually good at it.

The thing is, I am a terrible guitarist. I truly display major suckage in the guitar playing category.

But I love to sing and I love to write songs. So I continue to bug everyone with my crappy guitar playing skills.

I will tell you more about my short lived days as a musician one day, but in the meantime, check out the song I recorded yesterday from my home studio. Shaila fully cooperated and sat quietly (with a little help from Nick Jr. - Diego you rock!) and Nico slept a continuous hour to allow this happen.

So I thank them. And "the Academy."

("The Academy" being the Sprout channel and Nickelodeon. Holla!)

Check out the song if you can. Those of you who are on Facebook (I won't say her name but it rhymes with Randall) and my nice family and friends may have already seen it, so don't worry about torturing yourself again.

It's called "Don't Turn Around" and is a Masala Chica original. I will fix it up all pretty like this weekend. You can get to it by visiting the following website:

Tania Sones Photography

She is a super talented photographer so if you live in the tri-state area and need someone who is highly skilled with a camera, give her a call. And if you want, we may be able to cut you a deal if you want "DJ Masala" to come along for the ride.

Just kidding, DJ Masala is on sabbatical right now after that little old fight at the Knights of Columbus (Sorry Mr. and Mrs. C!).

XOXO,
Kiran