The following post is a photographic ode to the love of my life who goes by the name of Zoubi. Her actual name is Eva but by sheer intention and non-stop repetition everyone knows her and calls her Zoubi – even her grandmother.
Why Zoubi? Her birth, roughly 5 and a half years ago, coincided with a very popular Greek television show, in which there was a zaftig character who went by the name of Zouboulia. Incidentally, when Eva was born she was a round, fluffy ball of baby flesh – the type of baby that you wanted to nuzzle and pinch and kiss all day long. A zaftig baby, if you will. And so we nicknamed her Zouboulia. And from Zouboulia, a Zoubi was born. If you call her “Zoubi” to ask her something, she will turn to you, attitude turned to the max and say “my name is not Zoubi!”
And so you will ask her “Ok, what is your name, then?” “It’s Eva Zoubi.” Needless to say, I think Zoubi is here to stay, much to her parents’ chagrin.
She’s a ball of energy, sass, precociousness, and attitude. Sometimes she talks to fast I can barely understand what she’s trying to say to me. She’s as stubborn as a mule and she likes to get her way. But she is still as pinchable and kissable as the day she was born.
Rock on wit yo bad self, Zoubi.
Sass to the max.
Trying to cheer her up after a crying bout.
Learning to do a cartwheel on her own!
Dressed as a traditional village girl for a school play.
I was going to start this post by saying “I never thought a wave would bring me to tears.” But that just sounds so overly melodramatic and quite frankly, it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit – even if it is the truth. At least I was alone when I succumbed to the moment in this utterly female fashion. I didn’t expect myself to tear up – c’mon Voula, you are more practical than that! But deep down it made me happy that I reacted this way. I am human! I can be moved to tears! There is hope for me yet!
So my sister is three months pregnant. Yesterday she had her third sonogram. On the second sonogram we noticed what we’re pretty sure were chubby-looking cheeks. This time the big reveal was a wave. At this rate by the next sonogram the kid will be doing water acrobatics.
The most interesting part of all of this is that I’m both happy and relieved about this whole experience my family is going through. I’m so happy for my sister and my brother-in-law because children can be a joy, they change your life blah blah blah, all that happy, sappy stuff we hear about kids – the stuff and schmaltz that Hallmark is founded on.
I’m happy for my parents that they’ll get to be grandparents, although the thought of some of my dad’s more “special” qualities being passed on should concern everyone. I’m happy that my brother and I will be uncle and aunt to this new addition. However, I am beyond relieved that I’m not the one that is pregnant. I’m relieved I don’t have to go through the pregnancy, relieved that I won’t be responsible for this new baby, relieved that I won’t go through the pains of being a new parent. I just want to run up to a rooftop and scream it to the world: “THANK GOD I’M NOT PREGNANT!” So much for being human…
Basically I just want to enjoy kids at their best. I will baby-sit them, play with them, squeeze every ounce of joy out of them (kind of like they’re my human lemons), and send them off to their parents where they can take care of the formalities (i.e. the crying and whining). That’s not too much to ask for, is it?
Still, it was a tear-worthy wave.