THE KOSTRZEWA 5: samosas

There are about a dozen things I would like to blog about, and sometimes while I'm waiting in the carpool lane to pick up Avery I take "notes" in my phone and I talk out my thoughts, and when I read it later, it's super lame. This was, however, my invention when I was in 3rd grade (talking to the computer and it types for you.) Damn you Apple, taking everyone's dreams.

So I want to write about the whole30 thing I did, or how my baby is really old now and I'm drenched in emotions about it, or how much I love watching "The Blacklist", or how Napoleon Ave owes me at least a month of my life because the TRAFFIC IS SO TERRIBLE!

But, today, SAMOSAS.

Sunday night, we went to Nirvana. It's an excellent Indian buffett where the kids eat for free. At this point, since now Ivy eats like a maniac, this is the most economical eating out option. And since I don't eat like a normal person (or do I?) during the week, Sunday we go hard. So, all the naan, buttered chicken, and lentils. We were eating outside, and I scanned our table, and saw the KID sitting across from me, the peanut no longer needing a booster eat, and the baby, sitting in her high chair clapping her hands, and the handsome man who decided to marry me. And the weather was at this point of feeling like nothing, in that I wasn't sweating, and I breathed it in and felt complete.

I asked the waiter if they sold samosas and he brought out two huge samosas, filled with potatoes and peas with dipping sauces. Why did I want samosas? This are not common appetizers in my life. I'm purely a chips and salsa kinda woman, or a cheese plate. And then I had this "I can't believe that how much my life has changed in ten years" moment because of these samosas. Let's explain.

I went to Sri Lanka in the summer of 2005, and lived at an orphanage teaching English during the day at a middle school/high school and then did a makeshift camp for the girls at the orphanage during the evenings. It was, and remains, one of the best experiences of my life. One day, we were all going to an orphanage opening in a neighboring town. Much like a club opening, with less disco lights. It's a huge deal because Sri Lanka is closed to adoption because of some truly terrible people going about it unethically, and with the tsunami that had recently hit and the on going civil war, there were a lot of orphans. Every church in the country had an orphanage (either a girls home or a boys home) which is really beautiful to me. So, our trip. What would have taken 2 hours to drive to, took around 8 because of the Tamil tigers (silly terrorists) who had seized control of the bridges that allowed you to travel to these towns. So we drove inland and then back out to the coast. We left before sunrise and rice and lentils just didn't sound to good so I skipped breakfast, and loaded the bus with 80 happy girls, who didn't mind any of the trip. We drove, and it was hot, and I was a mess. Hungry, sweaty, with a couple of 8 year olds sitting in my lap. The bus broke down a few times, needed gallons and gallons of water because the engine was over heating. So The Rev, the nicest man in Sri Lanka, reroutes the bus to a little town to get food, for about 100 people. He then comes back on the bus with dozens of brown paper bags of food. I could have cared less what I was eating, I was famished. The girls calmly handed out food to everyone and I took a huge bite not knowing what it was. It was a tiny samosa, filled with potatoes and beef. And it was delicious! I ate as many as I could get my hands on, and the taste and experience attached to it will always trigger this amazing time I had in Sri Lanka.

Back to Sunday night, I'm sitting by Ivy, feeding her bits of my food and she's loving it, and I looked at her clapping after each bite and couldn't believe how fast life happens. Not just how she's not a baby anymore, but how not that long ago, I was in Sri Lanka. And how in ten more years, I'll have pre-teens hogging the bathroom every morning, and I'm sure I'll look at them and remember when we were eating samosas at Nirvana. I don't know if I have ever wanted life to speed up, but I know that daily I wish it would just slow down. At the park the other day, I was ~~jogging~~ walking with the littles and this man yelled, because he had headphones on, "this is the best time of your life!!" and that simple phrase set me up for the rest of the day, probably week. I thought I had had my "best time of your life" season when I went to Sri Lanka, or when Ken and I were newlyweds, or when I got to spend four years in San Luis Obispo for college, but the best is right now? Yes, it is.

Of course, it's hard so see the best when Avery throws a chicken bone at Eliza, or when Ivy screams when I leave the room, or when Eliza eats sand, but every night, after the tantrums and the protests of bedtime, Ken and I are just so happy to have these kids. We settle into the couch and talk briefly about the girls, (and then quickly turn on "The Blacklist.") If this isn't the best, I don't know what is.

We never know what's waiting in our future, and while my life may not look great to some, my heart and life before the present has been preparing me for loving what I have now. I see pictures of my face as I look at my girls, and I remember how I looked at the kids in Sri Lanka and it's all too familiar. I know my heart is where it needs to be.

Be careful next time you order an appetizer, you never know what might happen.