It's All Fun And Games Until Someone Wins ... By Losing Their Pride

Just like last year, Halloween 2009 was another 3 day event, with one more party yet to come!

Friday morning started off with pumpkin carving in Sheridan's class, followed by parties in both the girls classrooms, and ending with a BIG bash of trick or treating and a pizza and crap candy party for all the kids at the Consulate. They had a blast! Of course, I spent a majority of the day rushing around, trying to be in two places at once, and taking as many videos and photos as I could.

Tonight there was another round of trick or treating at many of the Consulate homes, though shhhhh ....... don't tell my girls because we didn't take them. Instead, we leisurely got ready for a costume party at Sparky's, a local American-esque diner in Chennai. There were a number of American School and US Consulate folks meeting up for the mediocre American buffet and chaos. We arrived all dressed in costume, and ready to let the kids run amok. They had games and prizes, and even gave out awards for the best costumes. Matt was recognized for his complete lack of humility when he won the best adult costume.

Our little princesses have transformed into Hannah Montana and Sharpay from High School Musical (note: for those who subscribe to the whole HSM subculture, we are well aware that Sharpay is NOT a cheerleader, though you try telling that to a stubborn 4 year old who insisted on wearing a blond wig like her sister...) The costumes this year were imported from the United States, courtesy of Matt, who picked them out while on the phone with me in the store. He ran into a glitch when they no longer carried the Pink Power Ranger in Sheridan's size and had to come up with an alternate costume that would be suitable to her liking. Riley's Hannah Montana ensemble came complete with a small chip for her shoulder, though she already had her own.

A great Halloween weekend has thus far been had by all ... though it still continues with brunch tomorrow!

Halloween 2007 ~ Halloween 2009

Left: Sheridan's class ........... Right: The Consulate Kids

Left: The Consulate Party ......... Right: Sparky's Party

United Nations General Assembly

Thirty-five nations are represented at American International School Chennai, the largest amount thus far in its history.

Thirty-five flags proudly marched in to the gymnasium yesterday at the assembly ... sometimes with one, sometimes with three children smiling widely behind them.

The United States Flag was last. Not quite the largest nationality at the school, nor even the most spirited. But it was the most memorable for me ... as my beautiful munchkin Riley was chosen to escort the flag with a middle school and high school kid also from the U.S.

To follow it up, she was also chosen with a few other Consulate kids to sing in the choir during the assembly. She sang for weeks ... with several early morning practices. An oldie but goodie, we even watched a video of the song she was going to sing on YouTube ... she couldn't believe I knew the words.

Do you remember them? Not quite the Bono or Michael Jackson version ... but you get the drift. Take a peek at her video ... she's the cutie in the first row, second from the left.

Riley's choir practice before the assembly. Sheridan sitting with her class.

Marching in with the American flag ... Riley is in deep thought.

New Math ...

.... Neewwwww Math. It won't do you a bit of good to review math. It's so simple. So very simple. That only a child can do it. Do it. Do it*.

Tom Lehrer* was right.

As I found out last night when going over Riley's math work from class, I certainly don't do it right ... nor did I understand how the first graders were learning double digit addition. It's totally different from how I learned it over 30 years ago (though that's not saying much for my obvious lack of mathematical skills).

The way I learned to add was through a process called carrying (or regrouping). It was to add together the 'ones' place first, carrying to the 'tens' place, and then adding the 'tens' place together for the answer.

That was then, this is now ...

In new math, the kids learn addition without regrouping. They learn that each column represents a place value (namely the 'ones' and 'tens' columns). Then they learn to add each of the columns, starting with the left column (which is the 'tens' column for our purpose), and ending with the 'ones'. Then they add the columns together to get their final answer.

Here is a visual of what this old math and new math looks like...




These two-digit addition problems are very new to her. They just learned them yesterday in class (or at least it was the first time I had heard of it). When she was showing us the above problem last night she actually got a bit confused, wasn't sure how to add the numbers up the way she 'learned' it from her teacher, and ended up melting down and throwing a nice sized tantrum. Over not-getting-it-right. Oh the drama. Not knowing that her way and my way of adding weren't the same, she threw an even bigger fit when I tried to show her how to add these numbers up by carrying. As I was clearly told, I was not doing it right... aka, her teacher hung the stars, the moon, and the sky, and it's her way or the highway.

So today I went in to Riley's class and sheepishly asked her teacher to show me how to add the above problem her way. I needed to know how to do it "right" ... so that I could help her in the future with her math homework.

The funny part? Knowing that in a few weeks when they start subtraction without regrouping, I'll be heading right back to her classroom, asking the first grade teacher to show me how to do it.

I just await the day that we have to Skype with my dad for math tutoring, as my abilities end with multiplication and division. And Matt's? Well, he's still counting the above problem on his fingers and toes ...

If you're familiar with Tom Lehrer, you'll recognize his catchy New Math song ... a favorite of mine growing up!

And It Only Took Five Minutes ...

To go from this ...



to this ...




Rock on Riley!! We sure are proud of you!!

Now if we could only convince your little sister to try it ...

I'll Get You Murphy ... And Your Little Laws Too!

Isn't it ironic that everything seems to always happen at the most inconvenient time?

~ It all started when the dog threw up her entire dinner on the brand new rug. I was holding the baby in the kitchen, and with my super human mom ears, I heard the gurgling sounds that dogs make before they get sick ( usually seconds before they blow chunks on the first carpet they can find ) and ran into the living room as fast as I could ... knowing exactly what was about to happen. Too. Flipping. Late. I won't bore you with the details of my scream fest with the furry thing, my hysteria about vomit on 'said' brand new rug, or of my frantic cleaning. But I will tell you that it's as good as new. And the dog and I are friends again ... though it was definitely touch and go for several hours after that.

~ Since Friday night it's sounded like we're living smack dab in the middle of downtown Baghdad with all the firecrackers going off. Diwali is finally here and instead of being able to sleep in, we've been serenaded day and night with 'cracker after 'cracker. Not surprisingly, there was an explosion in a firecracker warehouse over the weekend here in Tamil Nadu that killed 32 people. It almost breaks my heart to hear that these people are spending thousands of rupees on these commercial grade firecrackers ... well over half a months salary that literally goes up in smoke in mere minutes. It would be easier if they just burn the money directly, rather than deal with the missing digits and ER visits that are plaguing the hospitals this week.

~ We had a dinner party on Saturday night, only to find out the hard way that most of the shops were closed on Saturday for Diwali... and there was not a head of lettuce to be found in the four stores I went to. Adding insult to injury, my oven decided not to work ... kinda like my driver that day too.

~ The girls woke up at o' dark thirty on Saturday, and even earlier on Sunday (despite them staying up later AND being on fall break). What part of "Stay in your bed until the clock says 7:00!!", did they NOT understand?

~ The baby followed suit and was off his rocker cranky this weekend, not taking any naps, and waking up exceptionally early. Uncharacteristic ... even for him. It doesn't help that his face looks like a game of connect the dots, and thus we're headed back to the dermatologist tomorrow to find out why his skin looks like a**. When making the appointment through our nurse, I had to tell her to remind the doctor that he has an obligation of doctor / patient confidentiality, and when I go there I don't want to hear about all the other American patients he's treated in the last week. Last time we were there I knew all about his treatment of another woman's peel and pimples... which I'm sure would mortify her if she was aware I knew.

~ The internet has intermittently been out, making it difficult to research how long my hair is going to continue to fall out postpartum. I mean, it fell out the entire pregnancy due to my out of whack thyroid. Why is it shedding in clumps now? Can't I keep just a little bit?

~ My maid got a phone call on Monday that her husband's brother's mother-in-law died while seated on the toilet that morning. A crappy way to go ... no pun intended. She was a non-blood relative to my maid, an irony in and of itself, though my maid insisted that she leave to be with her family in their time of mourning. With the average extended family, coupled with the poor health care, someone is always dying. The cycle of life here moves at a much more accelerated pace.

~ My dryer is broken. It's been broken for several weeks despite the several work orders I've put in, and the repeated attempts to have the maintenance crew understand what's wrong. See, it shouldn't taken two drying cycles, each 80 minutes, to dry my clothes. Right? Yet, these geniuses keep telling me that because I'm washing one load a week of delicates ON delicate, that THAT is the reason why my clothes aren't drying. Um.... no, the washer works fine. It has NOTHING to do with the dryer. But I can't seem to convince them otherwise. Nor do they stick around long enough to see that just because they feel warm air in the dryer for the few minutes they're here, doesn't mean that it still isn't taking almost 3 hours to dry each load of laundry. Ah.... the frustration!


Here are a few photos of Sheridan's class from last Friday's Diwali party. We did the same things this year as we did in Riley's class last year... lucky for me as it was easy to plan! Though sometimes competency is a detriment as I've now been asked by the kindergarten teachers to help coordinate UN day for the Pre-K and KG classes next week. So much for taking any breaks...

From This ... To This ...

From this... 5 months ago... Can you believe it's been 5 months already?

To this... two big choppers. (Not the most flattering of photos, but it was the only way I could get him to smile without sticking out his tongue)

To this ... pushing himself up and trying his darndest to move along the floor. He can roll. He can turn himself around. He has amazing head, neck, upper body control.

He's eating rice cereal, and devouring every single bite. He's a good sleeper; going to bed around 6:30 and sleeping a solid 12 hours. He's 5 months old already. Wow.

A Small Dose of Reality...

... is sometimes difficult to swallow.

I was THAT mom today. You know, the one who raised her voice just a little too loudly at the kid's sporting event. The one who insisted that she knew best. The one you didn't want to look at, so you put both hands over your eyes... but opened your fingers just enough to peek through and see what she was going to do next.

Yeah, I was that mom.

And I'm embarrassed.

The school is in the process of starting its swim club next quarter, and the girls had their tryouts today. Riley made it. Sheridan didn't. I was completely caught off guard. Most of my friends who've seen Sheridan swim were as surprised as I was.

I kinda snapped.

See, last week when the director had the swim club meeting she told the parents that in order to make the swim team, the kids needed to be able to swim 50 meters non-stop (2 laps) .... with the clarification that they could swim any stroke.

No problem. Both the girls had taken private lessons in Israel to the tune of $30 + / lesson ... for almost 2 years. Sure it was a high price to pay, but now they're little fishies. The thousands of dollars was very well spent.

Or so I thought.

Riley jumped in the water today, and effortlessly swimming freestyle, glided across the pool. The coach looked over at me and smiled, and by the time she finished her second lap, he had already filled out the paperwork and added her name to the team roster.

Sheridan swam next, doing a combination breast stroke with a flutter kick. I have no idea where she learned it, though off she went, somewhat awkwardly to the deep end and back. But she did it... exactly what the director said she needed to do in order to make the team.

However, she didn't make the team. Moreover, I was told she needed swim lessons. Swim lessons to help her get across the pool. Which she can already do... quite effortlessly (though admittedly, it doesn't always look pretty). I mean seriously, she's 4 years old. She swims pretty darn well. Just not good enough for the swim team, which, I thought, was supposed to HELP her with the stroke mechanics.

So before I could turn on the filter from my brain to my mouth, I snapped at the coach, telling her that I was not happy. Through clenched teeth I loudly stated that she did exactly what she was asked, and it was not fair that she didn't make the team. I then marched over to the side, pulled Sheridan from the water, put her in her seat, and obnoxiously walked over to the athletic director where I boldly expressed my displeasure. The response? They want to see mechanics over endurance. It's great that Sheridan can swim multiple lengths of the pool, but since she can't swim one stroke perfectly, she's only eligible for swim lessons... until she masters freestyle, when they'll then put her on the team.

I had to take a breather. I knew I was going to say something that I didn't mean, and I could feel my face get flushed as my frustration intensified. I sat down and started talking to a few friends who waited to watch the girls. I mumbled. I vented. I unleashed my disappointment in the semantics of the expectations at the original swim club meeting. I was upset that the director watched the girls practicing yesterday for 20 minutes, yet never said anything to me about Sheridan's strokes.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks... I was THAT mom. The one who annoys everyone in the stands because she's coaching the kids from the sidelines. The one who knows better than the coach does, because, "Hey, she's my superstar... you're JUST the coach." And I knew that I needed to swallow a big spoonful of pride and let this one go. Because honestly, they were ... gulp... right. Sheridan is 4... she won't be 5 for another few months ... and if we were almost anywhere else in the world, she'd STILL be in preschool. Why am I trying to push her so hard? She's a darn good swimmer for her age, but she's ... still ... only ... 4 ... years ...old.

With my tail not-so between my legs, I boldly walked back over to the athletic director and swim coach and gently explained that I needed to be an advocate for my kid, yet I deeply apologized if I was rude. Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, the coach quickly said, "Don't worry... I've seen you at other events and I know you're usually pretty normal." Whew. A quick discussion about private lessons, another apology, big hugs with my fishies, and it was time to go home.

To work on homework. Because even though she's only 4, she has more homework than her first grade sister. Maybe having the afternoons free won't be such a bad idea...




Here's Sheridan during her tryouts. I narrowed it down to just 16 seconds... cause hey... she does the exact same thing from one end of the pool to another...




Here's Riley's swimming too. She dove in ... which for her, is a HUGE accomplishment. She used to look like a cat splaying her arms out as she attempted to dive in head first...

Friday Fragments

It's Friday night and the lights are low.... Thank goodness we made it through the week without Matt relatively unscathed and only minor incident.


A few highlights of our week...

The air conditioning unit went out in the kitchen on Monday, which led to an army of ants in the kitchen early Tuesday... and Wednesday... and Thursday... get the picture? It's finally been fixed, though I'm sure I'll see my 'friends' again tomorrow. They like me that way.

The air conditioning in the car decided to follow in the kitchen's footsteps and also go out on me, though fixing that was far more difficult. As our car is imported and old as mold, parts for it are quite difficult to find. So when my driver told me that they needed to replace the coil-thinga-majiggy, and the mechanic was going to 'jerry-rig' it with one that he found somewhere on the 'other side' of Chennai, I had to go with the flow. When in India ...

Of course, it would have been a tad easier for me to deal with this had my driver not had to suddenly leave me stranded and A/C-less when he got a disturbing call that his brother in law had just been killed. Something about being a drunk, not taking care of his kids, blah, blah, blah, and it was best I didn't ask for the rest of the story. I immediately sent him on his way... to the hospital ... to deal with the body ... and begged that he be back on Friday to help fix my car. Life is like a box of chocolates here... you NEVER know what you're going to get.

Then yesterday my gardener came across a wasps nest in our yard that none of us apparently knew about. Let's just say that when he came face to face with them... they won. Several stings, a doctor's appointment for the pain, and a face as swollen as a pumpkin later, he finally told me about it. And by telling me, I really mean he told my maid and driver who in turn told me. Of course, as a glutton for punishment, he went back to clean around the same bush that has the nest today. Did he think to remove it? Or have me call someone to remove it? Why no... that would have been WAY too easy. Or smart.

I finally took Grady to the dermatologist, who diagnosed his rash as Seborrheic Dermatitis. His face took a turn and looked as ugly as could be, rivaling a teenager with severe acne. So he now has a mild lotion to put on his face and something to treat his cradle cap. I have a feeling this is the first of many dermatology visits in his future...

I thoroughly enjoy listening to my driver tell me about the Indian way of life. Stories from his people in his village fascinate, yet often disturb me. Today he told me that in his village, it's common practice to marry your relatives ... to keep harmony in the family. Their thought is that when you marry someone so close to you, that they'll look out for you and what's best for your family much more than if they were any old acquaintance. So, his wife is his father's, sister's, daughter. Figure that one out easily? His first cousin. He married his first cousin. And his son is already promised to another first cousin when he gets older. Um... okay. It gives the phrase, "keeping it in the family" an entirely new meaning.

I went to a parent coffee morning for Riley's class today. When she got home from school today she asked me what I wore to the coffee. When Sheridan informed her that I wore my standard mom outfit... strappy tank top under a shirt, blue jeans, and high heels, Riley then asked if I at least did my hair and wore make-up and earrings.

And being the super cool mom that I am, had a movie night with the girls tonight, only to fall asleep half-way in to Hannah Montana, and have Riley wake me up at the end telling me she needed to go to bed.

Two more days until Matt's home... schlepping another big cooler of frozen treats. Forty-eight hours and counting!

Designer 'Labels'

Last night while sitting around the dinner table, where all of our 'colorful' discussions take place, Riley told me that she had a conversation with a child in her class about being an American. There's a lot of talk about nationalities these days as the school gears up for their United Nations Day at the end of the month. In fact, I'm sure it's no surprise that I'm on the committee to help decorate and cook for the American booth, though that has no bearing on this conversation.

So I asked her what her what her exchange was about... what did she discuss about being an American? Her answer: "Well, since I'm Jewish and don't celebrate Christmas, I can't be an American."

Wow. Deep breath. Wow.

I don't know what I expected her to say. While she was born in the U.S., lived there for her first five months of life, and visits for several weeks each summer, she's never really been there long enough to understand what the 'label' of being an American really is.

Living overseas has forced us into always being labeled. In Oman, we were the 'white folks' living in a Muslim country, never openly discussing our Judaism (and even going as far as declaring 'no religion' on Sheridan's birth certificate registered there). In Israel, while obviously comfortably open about being 'members of the tribe', we were still labeled 'American' or as noticed by our license plates, 'diplomats'. Here in India, where our white skin appears even whiter next to the dark southern Indians, not only are we labeled 'American', but 'rich'... which is funny enough to think of government employees as making enough money to be rich, though to those who live on less than $1 a day, we sure are.

Until we moved overseas, I never gave any thought about being an American. I just am. My children are. I can't remember spending so much time in the States identifying my nationality (except when filling out applications or paperwork). Though, I also don't remember feeling as patriotic as I do now either. I have a much better appreciation for the freedoms as Americans we possess, especially after living in several countries where the women are seen as 'less than' and I can choose to wear / do / say whatever I want, without having to ask permission from my husband. And for those of you who know us ... can you imagine me asking for permission for anything?

The part though that really bothers me about her answer is her misconception about her own religion. Our religion. She knows we're Jewish, and even at six, is painfully aware that she's in the minority... with no relatives in town to share in the holidays, very few other Jewish families in Chennai, and certainly not enough to even have a minyan. I thought that one of the great benefits of not having American television would be the absence of commercials. No worrying about the girls seeing advertisements for every conceivable toy and trinket on the market... geared to ensure the kids ask, beg, borrow, and whine for them to be purchased now, or better yet, for Christmas. For a holiday she knows nothing about, except it must be exciting and important ... because to her, everybody celebrates Christmas. However, it doesn't matter whether or not she sees ads, for she talks with her friends about religion, and to a six year old with deductive reasoning, if you don't celebrate Christmas, you must not be American. I mean honestly, are you seeing the mass advertisements for Hanukkah? What about for Lag B'Omer?

I grew up in a not-so religious family, though was very proud to be Jewish. I went to Hebrew School, Sunday School, Midrasha. I had a Bat Mitzvah, started a B'nai B'rith Youth Group in my city, and even began my college courses as a Jewish Studies major. I get it. I identify with it. I am Jewish. Matt on the other hand has a more spiritual connection to Judaism. Sure he technically is Jewish. He was snipped. He had a Bar Mitzvah. He can mumble a B'racha or two, and appreciates a good shofar blowing at Rosh Hashanah. He just isn't lining up to go to synagogue on a Friday night (even if there WAS a synagogue here in Chennai). And over time we've met somewhere in the middle... and began classifying ourselves as 'Jews with a little j'. It's worked well for us. Until now.

So I sit here in my small office, pondering what I need to do to change my daughter's mindset about religion and nationality. I don't know what the answer is, or even where to begin our journey. With no Sunday School around to send them to (as we would if we were stateside), no watered down American history class in school (here they have an Indian studies class), no kids their same age or situation in which to go through this together, I'm at a loss.

Until I figure our next steps, I'll be sitting here ... daydreaming the ways of helping them understand and appreciate their 'labels', which while growing up as a third culture kid, are, and will always be, the minority.

One Walk, One Hope

Today, the kids and I joined in Chennai's first mass breast cancer awareness walk. While it was a minor feat organizing how to get to the location, it was a lot of fun walking and talking with friends for such a great cause.

Before the afternoon walk, our old neighbor invited the kids and I to lunch to welcome a new family to town. However, lunch ran late and the kids were having fun, so by the time we got home, we had to immediately change into tennis shoes, re-pack our things, and hop into a tuk tuk to get us to the starting point on time.

The walk wasn't very far (though with the girls whining you'd think they'd walked miles), and in less than thirty minutes we were at the finishing point. Of course, the sidewalk and parking lots at the beach where we were all marching were NOT closed down, and our group was completely interspersed with bicycles, motorcycles, cars, and an errant bus or two.

The girls favorite part? Definitely the tuk tuk ride there and home ... and the pins!

Diwali

Diwali is ... a festival of lights ... instead of just one day ... you get five (or six, depending on your religion) CRAZY nights.

We are coming full circle as we enter our second year in India and are starting to celebrate holidays for the second time. Last year I was newly pregnant during Diwali, though nobody knew. What a difference one year makes, eh?

I could sit here and google Diwali, and then plagiarize the meanings and customs surrounding it, or you could click on the blue link above and read what I wrote last year about it. Awe heck, twist my arm, I'll do it for you.

Simple stated, Diwali signifies victory of good over evil. Hindus, Sikhs, and Jains light diyas, cotton string wicks inserted in small clay pots with oil, in rows to welcome Rama home after a 14-year exile. During Diwali, it is customary to purchase new clothing, share sweets and snacks, and light fireworks. Commercial grade, loud as heck, gonna blow somebody's fingers off firecrackers.

Tonight we attended the American School's annual Diwali celebration, which is actually two weeks before the actual holiday, and on the eve of Matt heading to the States for a meeting. I bought the girls new dresses with my in-laws, and they were very excited to wear them. We met up with several family friends at the school and had a great time sweating our butts off in the insanely hot and humid evening, watching the girls NOT eat yet another dinner. Fun times. But the fireworks display? Thoroughly enjoyed by all... especially the kids, who couldn't contain their squeals of delight every time a boom went off and the sky was lit up like a million shiny diamonds.

Migraines and Infections and Giardia - Oh My!

Our house resembles a MASH unit. It's a good thing prescriptions are inexpensive here, because we've relied on them quite a bit this week.

As you know, it all started while we were away on vacation last weekend ... the girl's head colds, Matt's sinus infection, and my stomach ailments ... and they didn't subside when we got home. As Monday was a holiday here, I couldn't see the doctor until Tuesday, and not a minute too soon. After ruling out that my stomach pains were NOT due to swimming, chocolate, or ice cream, he then asked me if I had any take-out foods in the past few days. Well, duh... I just came home from a 4-day vacation in Northern India. I surely didn't pack our meals for the trip. He pressed on my stomach, he looked at my tongue, and said he felt confident that I had a parasite. He mentioned that if I wanted to, I could produce a 'sample' to be tested, however he was certain that what I have is Giardiasis. He didn't tell me how I contracted it. He didn't tell me how to prevent it in the future. He just wrote me a prescription for two different drugs to take twice a day, and said, "if you feel better by Thursday, then my diagnosis was correct."

For the first time since we moved to Chennai I actually walked out of his office feeling pretty good about his theory. I mean, it sounded right. I had no reason to doubt him. That is ... until I discovered that every - single - person who goes into his office for stomach ailments is diagnosed with Giardiasis. Everyone. Apparently, it's his stand-by. When in doubt he calls it Giardiasis. And prescribes antibiotics... that work on all that ails you.

I do feel much better now. However, even a broken clock is right twice a day...

On another note, Riley came home from school on Tuesday crying over painful eyes. She said they itched, hurt, and throbbed. So I called the doctor. The same doctor who diagnosed me earlier that day. And he told me, without seeing her, that she has an eye infection, and sent me to pick up some antibiotic eye drops. Lucky for us, we can pick up virtually any prescription medication without an actual written prescription from a doctor. So off to the pharmacy I went, and for 12 rupees (about 25 cents), got the eye drops. We used them that night and the next day. Not noticing any reason why I should keep her home from school, I sent her on her merry way. Unfortunately, the next day I got a call from the school nurse, telling me that Riley came in crying and complaining that her eyes were so sore and that she needed to go home. She was hysterical when I picked her up, but just as I noticed the night before, or even that morning, her eyes weren't red and swollen.

When we got home she laid on the couch and then started to complain that the light was bothering her and the noise bothered her. Hmmm... I had a sneaky suspicion that I knew what her eye issues were. A quick visit on WebMD, a few questions about the pain, a little messaging her temples, and voila! ... diagnosis complete. Riley, just like me when I was young, suffered from a migraine headache. I gave her Tylenol, and after waiting thirty minutes for it to kick in, she was a totally new child. Her eyes stopped hurting, her head stopped throbbing, the light no longer bothered her. And true to form, about 4 hours later when the Tylenol wore off, her eyes started hurting and the temple rubbing began.

Since she's so young to get migraines, we're monitoring the situation now to see if this is a one-off occurrence or something we need to take her to a specialist.

From the road to Delhi ... to the road to recovery.