The Hot Pot Blog

July 22, 2014

Like Falling In Love


It’s been one week and two days since we touched down in Milan or Milano as it’s called here. I haven’t figured out which one sounds less presumptuous for me to use seeing as how my working Italian tops out somewhere shortly after “my kids are three and six months old” and “I’d like an espresso please”

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July 8, 2014

In Close Proximity

Can't get enough of those blue ridges. Hello Charlottesville, nice to see you again # outmyairplanewindow

The other night we pulled into a hotel parking lot across the river from Washington D.C. Chris ran inside to check us in, while the kids and I stretched and squirmed in the backseat.

“Mommy, where is home?” Will asked. Continue Reading

June 15, 2014

Lilacs on the breeze

Lilacs are the sweetest old-fashioned flower but to really love them you need a crisp blue sky, a soft bed with clean sheets, a quiet Saturday morning, an open window and a gentle breeze to carry their perfume over the roofline and into your sunlit room l

When people ask me how our time in America this summer, I hope I tell them about the lilacs. Continue Reading

May 28, 2014

Delhi the way I see it

open door single
Two weeks ago a professional photographer and a fellow FS spouse based in Chennai came to Delhi for a scheduled portrait shoot. She needed a photo assistant and I realized that I badly needed to get out of the house to capture on film all of my favorite details about Delhi–unencumbered by irresistibly kissable baby limbs and funny, if distracting, toddler antics. Continue Reading

May 21, 2014

A day in our delhi lives

Shiloh on quilt-1

I’d always aspired to do a ‘day in the life” post here in Delhi to record for the kids the banal, everyday details that really defined our lives here but that we might otherwise forget.  With only 5 days until movers show up at our front door though, I think I’ve finally procrastinated past the possibility of recording a “typical” day for us here.  Our friends keep texting with increasing urgency, our tough, no-nonsense housekeeper burst into tears last week when we tried to talk about pack-out, and our house looks like two years worth of living abruptly flew out of the closets and landed in haphazard piles across our family room. Nothing feels ordinary here anymore.

But if I had to aggregate two years worth of quiet little rituals and experiences into a single day, we’d have a day like the one I describe below.
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May 3, 2014

Delhi on film

light leak first roll-4
I bought an old film camera in Old Delhi a few weeks ago. It’s a Minolta with some spots on the lens and more light leaks than I know what to do with right now. But the way it makes my fingers hum with every click of the shutter and the way India looks through its anachronistic little viewfinder make me feel like I’m seeing the world here around me in a different light.

delhi on fujifilm-17
And I am seeing the world around me differently. Cameras aside, there’s a countdown now, a date on the calendar after which we will no longer be residents of Delhi and we’ll be applying for residency cards in Milan, Italy instead.

delhi on fujifilm-16
It’s not hard to conceptualize that we are leaving India, but it’s difficult for me to picture in my head what life in a country with potable water might look like. It’s not hard to understand that my dearest friends here will keep having new babies and healing from surgeries whether we are in Delhi or Millan, but it’s hard to imagine starting over in Italy without having all of them just a text message and a 15 minute drive away from me.

I’m not particularly self-aware. It’s taken me nearly a month to realize that the real beauty of my new little camera is the fantastic amount of distraction it provides from the more life-changing matters at hand. There’s a distinct appeal to not knowing how a shot really turned out until I get it back from the neighborhood dry-cleaner cum photo lab. Each roll is a series of 36 mini unknowns to distract me from all of the bigger unknowns we are facing.

delhi on fujifilm-12
We’re in that strange transition period between feeling at home in one place and soon being compelled to make a new place feel like home. I feel like I won’t know which stories or emotions or experiences will really define our last few months in Delhi until we’ve already unpacked and resettled in Italy. And until I do, the world just makes more sense when I’m looking at it through my cloudy new viewfinder.

delhi on fujifilm-18
delhi on fujifilm-13
delhi on fujifilm-9

April 13, 2014

In Between

Indian truck undercarriage
I’m on a vision quest these days.  In between potty seats and the 3am feedings.  In between the markets and the playdates and the emails about Italian preschools and the need to get dinner on the table and the need to pour a glass of wine after the kids finally go to bed.  In between failed 5am attempts to exercise and failed 10pm attempts at Italian lessons.  In between giving in to chocolate-for-breakfast requests and saying no to watching TV.  In between telling my husband to get out of my shower and wanting to do nothing more badly than run away together for 24 hours.  In between trying and failing and sometimes succeeding at being a good mother, a good wife, a good friend, a good person, I wonder why fate dealt me this weird, wonderful life of ours and what I’m exactly supposed to be doing with the gift.

How very millennial of me it must seem to assume a higher calling beyond motherhood, housekeeping and helping to pay the bills.  But I live in a country where I am surrounded by women raising children, keeping house and making money with far, far fewer resources and far, far greater hardships than I have ever born.  If they can do it all so capably with so much less, surely I should be making use of my privilege to do so much more.

A thousand times since the day he asked me to marry him, Chris has asked me whether I ever regret my decision.  I tell him and myself that I don’t.

I chose love and adventure over everything I had thought I wanted up until the point right before Chris asked me to marry him. Two roads diverged and all of that.

And someday it will all make sense. I don’t think it will be photography or cooking and maybe not even writing that will fill my days with purpose and clarity the way motherhood and moving preparations fill my days now.  But as we count our days left here in India and look forward to a new adventure and new possibilities in Italy, I find myself impatient once again to know for what purpose could all of these wonderful adventures be for.

March 22, 2014

Before we start packing suitcases

Seeing #red #delhi #india #vscocam

Our friends and family in America celebrated the arrival of the spring equinox last week, but here in Delhi we are slowly resigning ourselves to the beginning of our hot dry summer season. In Delhi they say that the heat arrives with Holi and so it has. Continue Reading

March 5, 2014

Motherhood, etc.

Shiloh in grey-1

Motherhood has taught me…

the value of waking up at 5:00am and defining a 20 minute sprint on the treadmill as “me time.”

And that it’s better to err on the side of being washed and dressed by 6:00am so that no matter what comes next, at least one of us is ready to be out the door in time for preschool.

That classical music playing softly in the background does amazing things for the mood in our living room and that getting outside at 4pm is usually the only way to beat the witching hour. Continue Reading

February 6, 2014

Shiloh’s first trip to visit the flower wallah

Shiloh's first trip to the flower wallah #havemobywilltravel #4weeksold #iphone #india #delhi

I don’t feel like the dust has settled enough around here for me to make any grand, sweeping proclamations about life with two kids but I think I like it. There are moments of crazy, there have been days I wonder how I will get dinner on the table or whether Shiloh will sleep long enough for me to play with Will for more than 10 minutes at a time. There was the time Chris had to work until 9pm before Shiloh was 3 weeks old while I had two sick kids at home. Continue Reading

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