I’m surrounded by musical instruments, typing this up in Ishu’s bedroom while the baby does his final nap of the day and Ankur and Ishu are Danny-Going together in the living room.

This is going to be a quick post.

I just wanted to upload some of my favorite pictures from this past weekend.

I am feeling reflective and heartbroken and emotional and a little bit guilty for living my life and occasionally losing my patience with my children when I get to have them. In my arms. Right by my side. Safe and sound.

I can’t fully articulate everything into words. It feels weird to live my life and find frustration in the smallest of things when the world is falling apart.

I’m grateful for the weekend with my family.

Grateful we got to celebrate Ankur’s birthday yesterday. Ishu picked out the most frosting-covered ice cream cake because there was an orange balloon on it and orange is Papa’s favorite color.

Ankur and I got to go to brunch. And watch a movie in the theater. Without the children. Fall Guy.

We got to talk without being interrupted. Laugh together and remember we enjoy each other’s company.

We got to play in the sunshine. And say, “Wow, he’s getting so big. He looks like a boy.” And then, of course, spiraling in my mind. Because why would I be SAD about that when there are so many mamas who don’t get to have the opportunity to watch their babies grow?! Their legs amputated before they even learned to walk.

I spent a lot of time thinking back to middle school Divya.

The naive Divya that thought when we talked about world “war,” it meant that representatives came together to battle it out in a courtroom. Because she couldn’t FATHOM that there were adults in the world that would bomb cities and harm innocent people because every adult she knew at that point had always taught her that “violence solves nothing.”

How dumb I was.

How dumb we all are.

I’m grateful for my weekend with my family.

I don’t take it for granted.