I decided to try to blog while nursing, because that is my only dedicated time to silence and forced sitting. I dislike typing on my phone but that is the only way this will happen.

The trees are starting to be tipped with yellow and red around here, and the first leaves are falling. I haven’t had a front door to decorate since I lived at home in high school, so this year I got to decorate our new home and my parents home. I limited most of the decor to things I could find laying around (like logs, candles, baskets, etc), and under $50 of things like hay, pumpkins, and sorghum stalks. It was fun!

Now I am trying to think of Halloween costumes, mostly for the photos, because the girls are too young for anything else, and because there is still a pandemic happening and we can’t go door to door or have parties anyway.

I often take the girls on 1 or 2 daily walks, and it can take me a few minutes to get out the door (need to grab all the things!). Now with the weather turning cool, I will have to dress them with additional layers, which is like wrestling a little octopus while their sibling stands by the door yelling “Mama, outdoor!” But I will continue to walk because otherwise I will go crazy. Wish me luck!

So we’re 6 months (182 days) into this pandemic, and have been staying at my parent’s place this whole time. Shea is lucky enough to be able to work from home, so 4 adults and 2 kids are here together. I’m so grateful my parents have taken us in. Though I miss the city and my life there…the life I had is pretty much gone. Walking to stores and restaurants with two babies during a pandemic is no longer an adventure, it is just stressful.

Marguerite made it out of the NICU in 2 weeks post-birth, thank God, and while I was a little concerned about her (she was 5 weeks early), she has gained weight like a champ and nurses…a lot. I’m exhausted but happy with her reaching her 3 month birthday so healthy. She is smiling a lot and starting to make noises in response to us.

Marzieh at 16 months loves her little sister and gives her kisses and hugs at every opportunity. She doesn’t know her own strength so I have to watch them constantly. She says “shh shh” and brings burp cloths and pacifiers to baby sister. This week she started calling her “Mar”, instead of “shh shh”, so that is an improvement. She will put her hands up in a questioning pose if she can’t find something or someone, or if she hides a toy under a cloth as a game. She also plays hide and seek with us.

We bought a house last week (4 blocks from my parents, out in the suburbs of Chicago), and over the course of 4 days Shea did demo work on the first floor so we can have our contractor come in and build everything up from scratch. I am the project manager of this remodel, and it’s nice to be doing something that engages my brain.

The only reason I could sit down to write this post is that both of my children have been sleeping for 2 hours (by some miracle). I find it challenging to type on the phone in a way that is satisfying for writing my thoughts. Talk to text just ends up frustrating me. Most of the times that I’m sitting, I’m nursing, so it doesn’t lend itself well to writing blog posts.

Marguerite Sanii Munion was born in early June (5 weeks before her due date). She has had a little extra time in the hospital to grow and is doing well. We are so grateful for all of the love and prayers from our friends and family!

We waited a long time for Marzieh to join our family, and then, when she was about 6 months old, I got pregnant! I didn’t know for the first two months, so when I finally figured it out it was a huge and welcome surprise for all of us. It’s a little surreal but now we’re at the point where she is kicking me a lot and I’ve had the ultrasounds, so it’s very exciting.

My friend Chantal Pryor is a great photographer who happens to live in my building and captured these photos a few months ago for our announcement. Marzieh is going to be a big sister!

Today you started to exist

In my mind

In reality

You will always be mine

My little heart

Against all odds.

Her name means “she who is pleasing to God” and she came into this world after 44 hours of labor and much anticipation. We love you.

I watched the sunset from the window of the hospital

The day before you were born

As your father fed me dinner

And we waited for you

Because we had been waiting years for you

We had been dreaming for years for you

The room got darker and we waited for you.

The lines of coral and pink and orange

Shot through dark clouds

And we waited for you.

Five years ago I got married to this wonderful person. I arrived at the venue with traditional Persian cookies in hand, and dishes, and started setting up at my own wedding. My mother-in-law arrived and took that task over from me so that I could get dressed, and my parents surprised us with a wedding cake. The weather was perfect that day, although my meeting planner self had a hard time letting go of all the things. I remember the look on Shea’s face when he saw me before the ceremony. I remember Shea and I hiding from the guests in the back of the country club, talking and waiting. I remember him calming me down when I got worked up about all of the photos. I remember our hands going numb from holding hands during the ceremony and our chairs being too far apart, but I couldn’t let go. I remember him surprising me with a kiss after we said our Baha’i marriage vows. I remember my grandfather giving Shea advice (to always laugh) after the ceremony. I remember eating several plates of food because we had breakfast for dinner and it was so good. I remember dancing the entire evening until I broke the bustle on my dress.

The last five years have been amazing. I’m so lucky.

Finally decided to put together a Haft-Sin. This is a Persian cultural tradition (not a Baha’i one) and I always loved gathering the items and putting it together as a kid. I can’t tell you what most of it symbolizes but it reminds me of home. Happy new year! #persian

Dad, you always taught me to be independent, to do all the things guys are expected to do, but to do them in my own way. You encouraged me to climb trees, taught me how to paint and which kinds of tools to use, patiently waited when I couldn’t decide which outfit to wear, and signed me up for business classes in high school…which sent me on a path that I couldn’t even forsee then.

You still catch frogs with me, you still listen when I’m having a bad day, and you still tell me what kinds of trees we are passing when we take a walk. You’re the only father I know that dares his kids to jump into a freezing river in the Appalachians, or who knows how to explain a complex scientific paper in terms that his 12 year old daughter will understand.

Thank you for letting me be your little girl but helping me to grow up, for being an example of what good men should be like. Thank you for working so hard to make sure I got an education, for putting food on the table and for taking care of our family. I know that I am lucky to have you as a father.

This weekend is our time to gather.

Remember what he was, once upon a time.

On Monday night I received a call at 10 pm that my paternal grandfather, Richard Loehle, had passed away. He was 87 years old and was a successful artist and writer from Georgia. My home is full of his paintings and those of my grandmother Betty. They met in art school in the 1940s in Tennessee, lived in Chicago and Georgia, and supported their family of 4 children through their art.

I was about 1 month old in this photo with my grandparents. Since I was the first grandchild, I received a lot of attention from them.

When I was little, we lived 3 hours away, so I had many opportunities to spend time with them. In this photo, I am with my grandfather in the family room of their home.

Granddaddy taught me how to build things, and he loved explaining how things worked. I remember when he and my dad built a swingset for us in our backyard, taking walks in the forest behind their house, and catching turtles and crawfish in the creek.

Granddaddy was a tough man who lived through the Depression and World War 2, a descendant of German immigrants. He played the trombone in high school, which I then played for a year because I wanted to play the same instrument. We would get into lively discussions about all sorts of topics, from art to books to religion.

Rest in peace, Granddaddy.

(all photos taken by my mother, Neda)

we were always on an adventure
there were forests to explore, caverns deep underground
the swimming pool every day in the summer
the country back-roads, boiled peanuts on the way to Charleston
the city streets of Chicago and fireworks at night
every single road trip that took us to 40 states
homemade dinners and giving me a love for cooking
middle of the night conversations by the fireplace
and middle of the day conversations by phone
we are always on an adventure
and for that, I am so grateful.

I love you.