last day

Today is our last full day in Mussoorie. We leave at 5:00 am tomorrow to drive to Delhi to see my cousin, Amanda. The next morning we are off to Istanbul. I must finish packing our bags and making sure we are within our weight limit!

But I couldn't leave this place without making it clear what a wonderful year it's been. Our good friends Fabi and Marcus came by this morning to say goodbye, and we had lunch with our friends at school one last time just now. We all reflected on how lucky we are to have been able to do this and to have met each other. I love knowing that we have friends (good friends) who are from all 6 continents (that are populated!). I love knowing that we have places to stay and fun people to visit all over the world.
I love that Oliver has met so many different people and heard so many different languages. I love that we survived with smiles.

Mostly, I feel hopeful. I hope the drive down tomorrow is painless and Oliver doesn't get car sick. I hope my cousin is well. I hope that our flights are smooth and that we have a blast in Istanbul.
More than anything I hope Andy gets a job. I hope our move to Madison is a good decision. I hope that  we get to enjoy our summer and catch up with our family and friends. I hope we continue to appreciate India for all it has given us. I hope my marriage continues to stay strong. I hope our families can appreciate how much we missed them but also how badly we needed to do this, and that we will probably live abroad again in the future. I hope we can find mangoes that are half as delicious as the ones here. I hope to find a play group and music class for Oliver as soon as possible. I hope to visit Rose and Jay before the winter. I hope we find a wonderful place to live. I hope it's close to a park. I hope my thyroid can get back online. I hope Henry remembers us. I hope that we eat guacamole within 24 hours of landing. I hope to hear several outdoor concerts this summer and dine alfresco as often as possible. I hope my parents have gluten free beer in the fridge for me. And organic blueberries. And something my mom has baked.  I hope that Oliver continues to travel and be curious and be adventurous. I hope he knows how much we love him (and always will, no matter what) and how much we have enjoyed experiencing this year with him and watching him grow and walk and talk in the Himalayas. I hope.

Privacy and Boundaries

These two concepts do not exist here in India. I suspect this is because people are used to living in close quarters, practically on top of each other, in an already incredibly crowded country.

Staring is acceptable. So is looking in someone's windows, approaching strangers, taking pictures of you without your permission.  I have had to shoo people away from Oliver and myself many times. One of the first Hindi terms I was taught here was "Behen chode"; as I understand it, this is a crude way of  telling someone they sleep with their sister. My friend told me to use this if I was ever harassed and remind the people harassing me they have mothers and sister that they wouldn't want treated that way. Thankfully, I haven't had to say it. I have, however, gotten in people's face and done my share of yelling and middle finger raising (I'm not proud of it).  I learned early that my midwestern "Hello! How are you?" and a wave was an invitation to be followed and or flirted with. I stopped greeting people beyond a quick "namaste" and tend to avoid people's eyes. I quickly developed a sneer that I would engage when I heard cars and motorcycles slowing to a stop behind me. "Get away" I would snap in Hindi, thankfully they have all chuckled and gone on their way. 

Beyond harassment, we have had people walk the entire way into town with us. Trying to engage with Oliver, or just merely along for the stroll. In Chicago, I have walked off of a bus with several people  and someone always decides to be the fast one, someone else the slow one, others crossing the street so that no one has to walk "together". I have had ayah's here see me and Oliver coming and wait for us to catch up with them and then walk along the rode next to us, silent, not even making eye contact until they or we turn off. Bizarre.

This creeper above in the aqua shirt found us playing in the river while on vacation with a few other school families. We were in the most desolate place I have been here in India. Yet, he came out of the woods, walked up to us and stood there staring for about ten minutes. Seriously? Maybe he hadn't seen people in a long time; it was a pretty isolated place we were staying in. Maybe he was curious about the babies, or that we were white. Who knows, but I just cannot ever imagine someone walking up to a sandbox in a park and just standing there staring. People would call the cops. Or at least, move their children to a different location.

The picture taking is getting obnoxious now that we have so many Indian tourists coming up to the mountains to cool off. I have had people screech their bike to a halt, jump off, snap a picture of us and jump back on in less than 15 seconds. People will drive by as Oliver and I are walking home and stick a video camera out of the window at us. Because walking is so fascinating? I don't get it. We are strangers. Are they going to go home and post us on Facebook? The security men at school are constantly whipping out their phones to take pictures of Oliver. "Show wife" is often what they tell me. 

The boundaries at home are so different in India. Can you imagine showing up at someone's house, knocking once and then opening the door and walking in? We are vigilant door-lockers here because people knock once and then try the handle. I could be naked! Or asleep! At hotels it is the worst because there are no deadbolt locks. Everything is a sliding lock that you then use a padlock to secure. If Andy is out of the room, and he wants to get back in, I can't lock to door from the inside because he won't be able to unlock it. I have had so many hotel staff members just walk into our rooms; knocking optional. Once I got so fired up because they woke Oliver up to serve us room service that we hadn't ordered. Though I thought I had convinced them they had the wrong room, they came back two minutes later, walking in again trying to convince me that I had indeed ordered coffee and an omelette. 

There is little to no filter on what people will tell you. Everyone wants to ask how much you paid for something, or how your bowels are (this topic most often comes up while you are eating), or tell you how your body looks. For our entire time here, older Indian women have told me I am "too slim." That I need to eat more and exercise less to be able to keep up with Oliver. One woman pointedly told me I must be "sad [my] breasts are so small." Wow. One morning a mother of one of Andy's students told me I was gaining weight. She said, "I can tell, your face is puffy." Never mind that I only slept four hours the night before. She went on, "If you are not careful, you will become a fat housewife!" I muttered "awesome" under my breath and bite my tongue. My friend Sandy, from Delhi, told me that complete strangers on the street will come up to her husband and tell him he is getting fat. She said that people are so used to commenting on each other that they don't see any topic as rude or off limits.  Just yesterday Oliver and I tried our hardest to sit through the end of the year assembly.  We made it 15 minutes. One mother, whom I have never seen before, told me "You really ought to make him sit still. he is too energetic." Woman, please...

Here's what a will miss about the lack of boundaries...there is no wrong way to do something. I have a friend who was told at work that people are not allowed to knock on a certain supervisor's door; the must email them first and be sure it's alright. Even though he is just down the hall. That would never be the case here. I have certain people in the states that I only communicate with via email; phone calls and visits don't/won't happen. Here, face to face is preferred. Voice to voice is the next best option. Texting is just starting to take off here. I hope it isn't as popular as it is in the states. I really prefer talking to people and I think our Indian friends do to. I will miss being treated like everyone's friend. We have met people for the first time and ten minutes later they tell us "Our house is your house. Our car is your car. You are family now." I love that after one year here store owners are inviting me and Oliver up for tea, know our names, know where we live, know what we like. I will miss this. Not the creepers stalking us from the bushes, but I will miss all the other people tremendously. 

A different way

Our neighbors opened their door as we approached our own and said we must come in to meet their niece's baby. They were so excited to show us, but mostly Oliver, "Steve" the newest addition to their family. Oliver glanced at the baby but then went about running around after and trying to engage with their three year old, Enoch. At one point Enoch's dad turned to his visiting niece and said "Lindsey has a very different, but very successful way of raising Oliver." Okaaaay....I thought. Where is he going with this? He continued, "Listen to his vocabulary! Look at how capable he is! This is because Lindsey talks with him all day and let's him try new things! This is because she stays home with him and has no help!" My heart skipped a beat. Rajneesh is officially the first Indian person to compliment my choice to stay home with Oliver. Most have flat-out told me I am crazy not to have any help. I am still thinking a lot about the difference in parenting beliefs I have versus what my current country-mates have. They are so striking when you watch us in action.

Oliver and I have filled our schedule with playdates and music classes and trips up the mountain since Rose and Ennis left. Two weeks ago we had our usual playdate with a two year old son of a teacher here at Woodstock. I will call the boy Bob. Bob stays at home with his grandma and ayah while both parents work. Bob's grandma is a firm believer in keeping him indoors all day so he is "safe", "clean" and "well-behaved." For the first time, I convinced her to let the boys play outside in the common area of her neighborhood. She hesitated but I told her I would keep a "close eye on Bob" and she relented. Bob has no one his age in the neighborhood and because he is inside all day, he never plays with any children. EVER. Bob was so excited to see us walk up that he nearly burst through the screen of his door. He ran at us with his grandma howling "Shoes! No Shoes!" He slowed for about 15 seconds so she could quickly slide them on his feet and when she noticed Oliver wearing a hat, she ran inside and found (no kidding) a bowler hat and placed it on his head. Bob kept a tight grasp on Oliver as Oliver tried to make his way away from Bob. Oliver fell. Bob's grandma yelped but I didn't react. Oliver righted himself and Bob pushed him over with enthusiasm. Oh boy. I have firmly established myself as the mom who doesn't yelp when her child spills, slips and tumbles. I will scoop Oliver up and comfort him if necessary, but my non-reaction is a direct response to the screams and horror of my fellow neighbors when their children do the same. I was starting to question whether it was time to start reacting when Bob drew blood. He was so excited about throwing the ball to Oliver that he grabbed Oliver's arm and dug in. Oliver wailed. "You're going to be just fine. That was an accident." Still calm, I sent him to go after the ball. Then Bob decided he wanted it and bit Oliver's hand. This snapped me out of my super-calm-American-mom mode. "Aramse, Bob! Gentle... do not bite people, it hurts." Oliver decided the ball was  no longer worth it and went after the motorcycle toy which, predictably, Bob decided he wanted as well. To take possession of the motorcycle Bob put Oliver in a surprisingly strong and forceful choke-hold, panicking Oliver and causing him to cough and gasp. I was no longer cool at all. "BOB! NO!" (I pry his arms from my son's neck) "Bob, that's hurting him. ARAMSE! Get off my kid, Bob!"

I freed Oliver and walk to the other side of the common area with my startled and coughing child. Playdate over.  Not sure I really care to see Bob again. Grandma came over and said, "See! It's so hot! Makes him naughty!" and swept him into the house.  I decided then and there that it is not my job, nor Oliver's, to socialize Bob. He's on his own.

I know full-well that Oliver will slug, bite, kick, pinch people in the future, that is what kids do...but I sincerely hope he will draw the line at strangling someone. So that play option is no more. We met once with the woman I picked up at the restaurant and her two sons, but we just didn't hit it off.

I have decided that I can't force Oliver's socialization. We go to school, we play with the pre-k kids and he runs around with the high schoolers. The play groups will happen, and it's okay that they aren't happening now. I do look forward to having a community gathering place: a park, library, children's museum, where we can naturally interact with other kids and moms. That really is the big difference I have felt between child rearing here and in the states. Everyone here turns to their ayah for help, I turn to my friends and other moms. I can't wait to be back around moms once more. I have missed it so much since Rose left.