My Favourite Fruits
When I was single and went out on a date, I would whip out a photo of three gorgeous smiling little girls and say,“I just want you to know, I come with kids.”
I can’t say it was a terrific marketing ploy, but it didn’t really scare Mr Kasamba away because he knew that I had not bore them, rather I just felt that they were mine.
I first arrived into the lives of my three girls not more than a child myself at the tender age of sixteen. I was in Israel at the time and my mother sent a suitcase with the Seeded Fruit family for me (by the way, never tell my mother you are going anywhere, she is sure to know someone she needs to send something to wherever you’re going). I waited for this family, strangers to me except for my mother’s constant raving about how cute the kids were. Finally, they came out; two parents, one babysitter and eight adorable children. And the luggage! From far the luggage looked like a mountain as all the cases were piled sky high. Of course, my case was on the tippy top. They fell on the drinks I had bought for them, famished from their long trip from New York.
That summer on hiatus from seminary, I worked as their babysitter. It was then that I fell in love with my girls. At the grand old age of three, the oldest Guava, was the leader of the bunch. She would tell me that she wanted ‘checkup on her pasghetti’. The second in line Kiwi, would pick up her dimpled little two year old hands and say ‘huggame’. But it was the littlest one that I lost my heart to.
Blueberry was just a little baby with soft round cheeks and a little pink tongue that would stick out whenever she smiled. She had the biggest, bluest eyes I had ever seen, and she smelled like baby lotion. I wanted to eat her. I couldn’t bear to away from her and I would have Blueberry attacks, where I felt that would just die if I couldn’t smush her immediately, so I would have to go to her toot sweet.
The dynamics shifted shortly after I came back after my second year of Sem and I needed my girls. I would pick them up and shlep them everywhere. They were always dressed identically, in the most amazing outfits, like little dolls. I would take them food shopping and put all three in the trolley and they would chant together whatever it was that I was supposed to buy. I still can’t buy apple juice without hearing them chant, ‘app-le juice, app-le juice, app-le juice’. Then I would take them clothing shopping and all three would sit on the floor of the changing room and give me their verdict of what outfit worked or not.
They had very good taste.
Soon enough, I forged a friendship with their mother Mango that has strengthened and deepened over the years so much that I can’t even remember my life before she was a part of it.
She is the sister I should have had.
Subsequently, when the girls were in school and I was in college, I would find myself keeping neat freak Mango company while she colour coordinated her daughters' Barbies' (massive) wardrobes. She has always been my best audience, and she used to crack up when I would whine that Barbie’s life was so much better than mine at the time; Barbie had great clothes, a fantastic car and such a good looking (albeit effeminate) boyfriend.
Then Mango and I would take Mama Kasamba and shlep out to the far reaches of New York State. We called these trips Road Trips. As the years wore on, whenever I come in from London, Mango’s oldest daughter Apple joins us as well as Guava, Kiwi and Blueberry. Soon, I expect my very own Asparagus to be included in this right of passage.
There are rules for the Road Trip.
The first being that as soon as you enter the car, you have to say whether or not you ate or not and whether or not you want to be on a diet. This is so when we stop at the last gas station before the George Washington Bridge, we will know what nosh to buy all assembled.
The next thing one must do is decide where to eat when we arrive at whatever Borough (usually Boro Park) or city that is our destination. Most of the time the Road Trip will try and defer eating until later, but this usually proves fruitless and we give in.
The Road Trip also requires laughing so hard that everyone must then yell at Mango to retain control of the wheel.
You might be inclined to ask, ‘why now, Kasamba? Why mention the family of the Seeded Fruits NOW?’
Well, I’ll tell you.
My youngest, my ittle, wittle, cutie, patootie, Blueberry has gotten engaged.
She has grown up to be every bit as wonderful as her babyhood promised. She has a heart of solid gold, a smile to melt glaciers and a sense of humor to rival mine. In other words, she’s perfect (spit all over her and wrap her in red string).
I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that Guava and Kiwi have two kids each.
And now Blueberry is getting married and I shall have a new son-in-law of sorts.
My baby is growing up.
Oy.
posted by kasamba @ 1/03/2007
20 Comments:
Yay I am first! Very cute, I love blueberries.
Mazel Tov!!!
Mazel Tov! May Blueberry have much simcha!
Looks like you took the blessing "be fruitful and multiply" quite seriously :)
May you continue to live a sweet, delicious, and juicy life -- till a ripe old age :)
Yay a wedding! You're not losing a daughter you're gaining a son in law.
lol, when you said the "far reaches" of New York, I'm thinking like out in the boondocks... then you said Boro Park and I knew something had been lost in translation...
Anyway, mazal tov on the simcha! It's nice to know there are still guys out there good enough for us perfect people... ;)
awwww.... mazal tov! that's such a sweet story!
(and it involves my favourite fruits too!)
Mazel tov! My Andy is in between the baby versions of Kiwi and Blueberry, and he's very edible too. Though boys are different, as I'm learning. Things his sister held on to for 3 years become garbage in his hands for 30 seconds! :)
Enjoy all your veg and fruits!
I love your names-the way they make you imagine a certain type of kid!!
Mazal tov!
Kasamba: This reads like an advert for some sort of fruit cereal (or chewing gum). Is there anything subliminal here?!
Mazal tov! Time marches on...but you're keeping us entertained throughout the entire parade!
Gosh I didn't even say mazel tov so Mazel tov!
Time flies (sigh)
Are we having fun?
Mazel Tov!
I'm curious.
At what point after you moved to England did they start forcing you to misspell words like favorite and flavor and color?
Oh gosh - I'm 18th!
But who cares! To Life!
Okay - now about your cutie fruties - they sound so beautiful and wonderful...and I hope they all have Barbie like lives! lol
The 'road trip' - or 'the road trip gang' as I like to call it..sounds like my kinda people. You got a spare seat?! (ah right - that one's for asparagus!)
Well anyway, sweetie..I'll take you as I have you..blog an' all..lol
and Mazel Tov on this wonderful ocassion!
wonderful story Kasamba...mazel tov!
Socialworker:
Thanks!
Mia:
OMG!!!
I love that!
Ezzie:
Boruch Tehiyeh!
Shoshana:
Amen!
Must:
LOL!
What a wonderful Brocha!
Shoppy:
Yay! That brings me to your neck of the woods!
Kish:
Sooo true!
Kneidel Meidel:
LOL!
For anyone from Monsey- Boro Park IS the far reaches of NY state!
Sarah:
Thank you!
Raggedy Mom:
He sounds adorable!
Shy:
That was really nice! Thanks for that lovely comment!
Exsem:
Good to see you and thanks!
Jameel:
Aw shucks, you know just what to say!
Socialworker:
Thanks again!
Yingerman:
I don't know about you- I am!
Psychotoddler:
LOL! As soon as I got british spellcheck! And I hate those red squigly lines! ;)
The Laamb;
That must be the nicest thing anyone has ever said!!!
THANK YOU!!!!
TOWIK:
You're with me anywhere I go, babe!
Crusin:
Thanks!!!!
Mazel Tov
how exciting for you.
Thanks Prag!
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