Tonight we had a fun night of fellowship with friends, celebrating josh's birthday. As we laughed over a great mexican dinner and german chocolate cake, I started reflecting on things I have been thankful for today and in the last few days. Here's what stood out to me.
I am thankful for:
friends who do the dishes for you after a huge dinner!
emma still wanting to kiss me after I've spanked her.
friends who decide that praying for my husband is the best birthday gift.
watching samantha look at the sunlight through the trees as we walk down the street.
coke from America (it goes SO well with mexican!).
an upcoming week off school for josh!
webcams!
the chance to start over tomorrow.
East or West, following Christ is best..
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
Playing Peek-a-boo with Mantha
As you can see, Emma loves to play peek-a-boo. Even better if her favorite sister is involved! We think mantha likes all the attention...or at least can tolerate it. :)
The last one is a birthday picture josh and I were going to take together yesterday, when emma climbed in my lap at the last minute. She apparently doesn't like to be left out of things!
The last one is a birthday picture josh and I were going to take together yesterday, when emma climbed in my lap at the last minute. She apparently doesn't like to be left out of things!
Moving Day
It has been an historic night.
Emma's big girl bed has been waiting patiently over in the corner, fully outfitted with a soft, comfy mattress and 400-thread-count hot pink Ralph Lauren sheets (bought on clearance). Her favorite stuffed animals were propped up, waiting for the right night to comfort theirr favorite girl. When?...they wondered. When will the right night be?
Josh and I decided this afternoon that tonight would the be night. Emma has seen the gargantuan bed hogging its corner of the room for a few weeks now. We've been talking up the big girl bed, and since josh is on school break for a week, we decided now was just as good a time as any.
After a fun evening of playing with friends, it was already way past her bedtime. Perhaps that worked to our advantage, though. We clicked on her little night-light, and tucked her in between those nice, soft sheeets. With dramatic, big eyes, we explained to her what a big girl she is becoming. How proud mommy and daddy are that she is a big girl...Big girls get to sleep in big beds...Big girls call for mommy when they wake up...Big girls don't stand up in the bed. A happy smile was plastered on her face during our entire discourse. We think she was moved, in fact.
Leaving her with a big, assuring hug we clicked the light off and breathed a quick prayer as we walked out of the room. We sat in silence on the couch, holding our breath...would she cry? would she get up and play with her toys? would she find a way to pull all the wipes out of the box again?
After only a few whimpering cries of protest, she nodded off to sleep. Thank you, clara anne, for exhausting our daughter tonight! Our little girl, once scrunched up against the walls of her pack-and-play now has a big bed fit for a princess. Stretch out, little toes. Keep warm, little arms. Sleep sweetly, precious girl. It's true, child. Mommy and Daddy love you.
Emma's big girl bed has been waiting patiently over in the corner, fully outfitted with a soft, comfy mattress and 400-thread-count hot pink Ralph Lauren sheets (bought on clearance). Her favorite stuffed animals were propped up, waiting for the right night to comfort theirr favorite girl. When?...they wondered. When will the right night be?
Josh and I decided this afternoon that tonight would the be night. Emma has seen the gargantuan bed hogging its corner of the room for a few weeks now. We've been talking up the big girl bed, and since josh is on school break for a week, we decided now was just as good a time as any.
After a fun evening of playing with friends, it was already way past her bedtime. Perhaps that worked to our advantage, though. We clicked on her little night-light, and tucked her in between those nice, soft sheeets. With dramatic, big eyes, we explained to her what a big girl she is becoming. How proud mommy and daddy are that she is a big girl...Big girls get to sleep in big beds...Big girls call for mommy when they wake up...Big girls don't stand up in the bed. A happy smile was plastered on her face during our entire discourse. We think she was moved, in fact.
Leaving her with a big, assuring hug we clicked the light off and breathed a quick prayer as we walked out of the room. We sat in silence on the couch, holding our breath...would she cry? would she get up and play with her toys? would she find a way to pull all the wipes out of the box again?
After only a few whimpering cries of protest, she nodded off to sleep. Thank you, clara anne, for exhausting our daughter tonight! Our little girl, once scrunched up against the walls of her pack-and-play now has a big bed fit for a princess. Stretch out, little toes. Keep warm, little arms. Sleep sweetly, precious girl. It's true, child. Mommy and Daddy love you.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
the birthday boy and his girls
My dear husband turned 28 today! We had planned to spend the evening together, and i have to say it was a pretty nice evening overall. Josh and I had a nice dinner at home - ribs, baked potatoes, bread, and "hello dollies" (one of josh's favorite desserts!) - and played with the girls. Then when the girls went to bed, we ate hello dollies on the couch and watched seinfeld and listened to the nbc evening news.
My friend paul says that if you put things off that you want to blog about, then you will forget them and never remember. It's true. I've had so many blog moments today, but they are now gone. I shall follow paul's advice next time.
My friend paul says that if you put things off that you want to blog about, then you will forget them and never remember. It's true. I've had so many blog moments today, but they are now gone. I shall follow paul's advice next time.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
you've got pictures!
Here are a few pictures from the last week:
Emma eating spaghetti...mom and the girls together...dad and emma catching up on current events via ipod...emma learning to lick the mixer thingy...and getting ready to paint with clara anne!
Emma eating spaghetti...mom and the girls together...dad and emma catching up on current events via ipod...emma learning to lick the mixer thingy...and getting ready to paint with clara anne!
oh, what a difference a day makes!
Well, yesterday was Samanta's 101 days...as in "she's been alive 101 days". In america, that's not such a big deal, but in this country, the "100 days" is really special. All the parents go to take thier kids to get pictures taken and all sorts of things. When Emma was 100 days old (or really more like 103 days...) we took her to get pictures too. I was busy on Samantha's actual 100th day, so I figured, "what can one more day hurt?" I'm just counting a very rough 100 days! So in the interest of creating equality between my offspring, I thought Samantha deserved 100 day pics as well.
I must admit, I was dreading the ordeal. Emma's photo shoot turned into a three day ordeal: day 1 - go the studio...emma cried the whole time because all the "helpful assistants" were shouting in her face to get her to smile. day 2 - returned because no good shots came from day 1. Day 3 - go to pick out which shots we wanted. Finally, we got our pictures and we were really happy, but not without a fair amount of drama.
Yesterday when Emma was sleeping, I took off with samantha. (josh was at home, of course.) I waffled the entire taxi ride to the studio - am I really up for this today? should I just go home and forget the whole thing? is this going to be worth it?
I'm so glad I went! When we got there, I picked out the package I wanted, fed samantha, she fell asleep for about 30 minutes, and when she woke up, she was the happiest child in the world! (actually, she is normally really easy going and laid back so I shouldn't have been TOO surprised) We put her first outfit on - she smiled at everything anyone did. We moved to outfit #2 - more smiles. Wow, this is easy! Outfit #3, and then the traditional "no clothes" pic...and we were done. I was shocked, baffled, and so so pleased. Samantha was an angel - and we have great pictures to prove it! (we just have to wait for 3 weeks or something like that)
Emma has some exciting news she wanted me to share: her missing 4th bottom tooth has been found! Just a few days ago, he started to sprout up and pretty soon, she will look like a normal human with matching top and bottom teeth! We were so proud, we almost threw her a party!
Speaking of parties, Mr. Eggroll's birthday is tomorrow....
I must admit, I was dreading the ordeal. Emma's photo shoot turned into a three day ordeal: day 1 - go the studio...emma cried the whole time because all the "helpful assistants" were shouting in her face to get her to smile. day 2 - returned because no good shots came from day 1. Day 3 - go to pick out which shots we wanted. Finally, we got our pictures and we were really happy, but not without a fair amount of drama.
Yesterday when Emma was sleeping, I took off with samantha. (josh was at home, of course.) I waffled the entire taxi ride to the studio - am I really up for this today? should I just go home and forget the whole thing? is this going to be worth it?
I'm so glad I went! When we got there, I picked out the package I wanted, fed samantha, she fell asleep for about 30 minutes, and when she woke up, she was the happiest child in the world! (actually, she is normally really easy going and laid back so I shouldn't have been TOO surprised) We put her first outfit on - she smiled at everything anyone did. We moved to outfit #2 - more smiles. Wow, this is easy! Outfit #3, and then the traditional "no clothes" pic...and we were done. I was shocked, baffled, and so so pleased. Samantha was an angel - and we have great pictures to prove it! (we just have to wait for 3 weeks or something like that)
Emma has some exciting news she wanted me to share: her missing 4th bottom tooth has been found! Just a few days ago, he started to sprout up and pretty soon, she will look like a normal human with matching top and bottom teeth! We were so proud, we almost threw her a party!
Speaking of parties, Mr. Eggroll's birthday is tomorrow....
Sunday, September 24, 2006
aligning of the planets
Before I had children, I loved sleeping late. In fact, I can't remember ever passing up an opportunity to lazily pass away the morning hours; even if I was awake, I would stay in bed, savoring the last few minutes of warm covers and an empty schedule. But then I had children...
Emma's natural clock is set at 7:00. Rise and shine, my eye. She's up and chipper and calling out with great enthusiasm, "Milk! Milk!" Now that Samantha has entered the fray, five-o-clock wake up calls are the name of the game. I blearily trudge out of bed, usually still half asleep, as I go try to convince her that she has no need for anything at such an hour.
I honestly have not used an alarm clock since Emma was born. Between my two lovely daughters, the chance to sleep past 7 has not presented itself.
So you can imagine my surprise on Saturday morning. (Aaaah, Saturday morning used to evoke such pleasant memories of nothing to do but sleep...) Josh had an early morning meeting, so he was out of the house. As the sunlight strangely fought for space inside my bedroom, I groggily glanced at the alarm clock. Hmmm...8:41.
Eight-forty-one?! My mind raced, frantically wondering why I hadn't heard the girls yet. I threw back the sheets and ran to emma's room, convinced that her silence had made her the victim of a kidnapping, or worse yet, a SIDS death. Never-mind that she is past that stage. I grabbed the handle and rushed through the door to emma's room, where I saw her little tummy peacefully rising and falling in a deep sleep.
Confused, and still baffled at the silence in my house, I walked to the living room to check on samantha. She, too, was still alive and well. My children were not kidnapped. They had not suffocated. For some strange reason - a magnificent aligning of the planets, or more accurately a much-needed blessing from God - my children managed to sleep in...on a Saturday morning...when I had nothing to do.
And all God's people said..."AMEN!"
Emma's natural clock is set at 7:00. Rise and shine, my eye. She's up and chipper and calling out with great enthusiasm, "Milk! Milk!" Now that Samantha has entered the fray, five-o-clock wake up calls are the name of the game. I blearily trudge out of bed, usually still half asleep, as I go try to convince her that she has no need for anything at such an hour.
I honestly have not used an alarm clock since Emma was born. Between my two lovely daughters, the chance to sleep past 7 has not presented itself.
So you can imagine my surprise on Saturday morning. (Aaaah, Saturday morning used to evoke such pleasant memories of nothing to do but sleep...) Josh had an early morning meeting, so he was out of the house. As the sunlight strangely fought for space inside my bedroom, I groggily glanced at the alarm clock. Hmmm...8:41.
Eight-forty-one?! My mind raced, frantically wondering why I hadn't heard the girls yet. I threw back the sheets and ran to emma's room, convinced that her silence had made her the victim of a kidnapping, or worse yet, a SIDS death. Never-mind that she is past that stage. I grabbed the handle and rushed through the door to emma's room, where I saw her little tummy peacefully rising and falling in a deep sleep.
Confused, and still baffled at the silence in my house, I walked to the living room to check on samantha. She, too, was still alive and well. My children were not kidnapped. They had not suffocated. For some strange reason - a magnificent aligning of the planets, or more accurately a much-needed blessing from God - my children managed to sleep in...on a Saturday morning...when I had nothing to do.
And all God's people said..."AMEN!"
Friday, September 22, 2006
Do I look like an idiot?
we woke up yesterday morning to discover that water was leaking into our bedroom. Josh had just gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed when his socks stepped in the water. (Josh has a special pet-peeve about wet socks.) After he changed his socks, we began an expedition to find the source of the water.
We looked up in the air conditioning vents, looked to see if water was coming in other places in the room...but alas, it appeared to come from the bathroom. We wiped up all the water, and then josh started a series of experiments. He aimed the shower head (which shares a wall with our bedroom) at different places in the bathroom, while I waited in the bedroom as the "lookout". The water almost immediately started seeping in under the wardrobe. Having discovered the problem (possibly a leak in the pipe?), we wiped up the water again and called our landlord.
When our landlord got here to check out the problem, I went into the bathroom and ran the experiment for her. Five minutes later, there was no water leakage. Ten minutes, still no water. Why wasn't it working?!
Our landlord astutely explained that probably there was no leak - it was probably just us kicking over a glass of water, or emma snuck out of bed and peepeed in the corner during the night, or something like that. Yeah, why didn't I think of that? Of course, it wasn't a leak...it was emma, miraculously scaling the walls of her pack and play, making her way through our dark house at 3am, pee-ing in the corner of our room right up next to the wardrobe (through her diaper, mind you) and pee-ing enough to fill two towels and two sheets. My landlord must think really highly of emma.
Then, emma must have found her way back to her room (opened her door handle...), somehow re-scaled the walls of her pack-and-play prison, all the while escaping our notice. "Mmmmm", I politely agreed. "It must have been emma." Does she think I'm an idiot?
Then...today, she unexpectedly stopped by with bags full of fruit, meat, and one unidentified bag that she excitedly thrust in my face. She pulled it open to reveal little crabs, pinching thier little pinchers inches from my face. I let out a surprised scream, which totally took her off guard. I dont' know what it is with her and seafood, but I tried to explain that we are not really accustomed to seafood. She kindly took the crabs back from me, and told me that her house helper would cook them for me and return them this afternoon. Sure enough, a few hours later, a plate of crabs appeared, just in time for lunch. Luckily, we had two guests (who are from this country) who happily ate up the expensive crabs!
We looked up in the air conditioning vents, looked to see if water was coming in other places in the room...but alas, it appeared to come from the bathroom. We wiped up all the water, and then josh started a series of experiments. He aimed the shower head (which shares a wall with our bedroom) at different places in the bathroom, while I waited in the bedroom as the "lookout". The water almost immediately started seeping in under the wardrobe. Having discovered the problem (possibly a leak in the pipe?), we wiped up the water again and called our landlord.
When our landlord got here to check out the problem, I went into the bathroom and ran the experiment for her. Five minutes later, there was no water leakage. Ten minutes, still no water. Why wasn't it working?!
Our landlord astutely explained that probably there was no leak - it was probably just us kicking over a glass of water, or emma snuck out of bed and peepeed in the corner during the night, or something like that. Yeah, why didn't I think of that? Of course, it wasn't a leak...it was emma, miraculously scaling the walls of her pack and play, making her way through our dark house at 3am, pee-ing in the corner of our room right up next to the wardrobe (through her diaper, mind you) and pee-ing enough to fill two towels and two sheets. My landlord must think really highly of emma.
Then, emma must have found her way back to her room (opened her door handle...), somehow re-scaled the walls of her pack-and-play prison, all the while escaping our notice. "Mmmmm", I politely agreed. "It must have been emma." Does she think I'm an idiot?
Then...today, she unexpectedly stopped by with bags full of fruit, meat, and one unidentified bag that she excitedly thrust in my face. She pulled it open to reveal little crabs, pinching thier little pinchers inches from my face. I let out a surprised scream, which totally took her off guard. I dont' know what it is with her and seafood, but I tried to explain that we are not really accustomed to seafood. She kindly took the crabs back from me, and told me that her house helper would cook them for me and return them this afternoon. Sure enough, a few hours later, a plate of crabs appeared, just in time for lunch. Luckily, we had two guests (who are from this country) who happily ate up the expensive crabs!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
the yellow car
It's funny, you know, the way we try to simplify things for our kids to understand. A few months ago, when Emma knew body part names, we would say "no toes on the books" instead of "no standing on your books". Well, my dear husband was cleaning the house the other day with Emma and he, too, was trying to simplify things for her. We had just bought a new vacuum, and in America, Emma was afraid of our vacuum cleaner. He opened the box, pulled it out, and said, "Look, Emma! It's a yellow car!" Granted, Emma loves cars. This vacuum does look like a car. But the problem is that now, Emma thinks this is her car. She follows it around when we vacuum. In fact, she insists on leading the vacuum herself. She puts her toys (in this case, her beloved puppy) in its "seats" to ride around. She's very possessive of "her" car, but now loves cleaning the house.
In case you're wondering about my friend situation, I'll give you a little update. My "thanks-for-helping-me-cross-the-street-with-my-stroller,-will-you-please-be-my-friend" girl actually came over on Saturday night. I called to invite her over, and she said, "oh, i'm really busy on saturday so I can't eat dinner with you. Maybe I can just come at 6:30 and chat for a moment." I don't actually know if she was being "asian" and trying to let me down gently, or if she was indeed busy, but either way, she came over. We had a nice time chatting, she played with the girls, and she seemed like a genuinely nice person. Except she's a chinese herbal medicine doctoral student. Who does experiments on lab mice. She came to my house in between experiments. On the lab rats. Hmmmm. But I do think she's nice...
It seems I have become "rachel, the befriender" in the last few days. You see, I also met an "about to pop open" pregnant lady that works at a copy shop that I just paid a small fortune to. We made lovely conversation about having babies (and of course, it came up in the conversation that my children are poorly dressed, shouldn't be carried upright in the snugli carrier, and weren't my children too young to be outside anyway?) So...this afternoon, I made some banana nut muffins, and I think tomorrow I shall load up my childrens, go to the post office, give her a muffin (and try to be friends) and then go the market. We shall see if I am being too ambitious.
I'm also going to post some new pics for you guys: we've got Emma and her friend Clara playing the piano, Emma building a tower (which she loves to do - with blocks, with her food, with toys...anything that can sit on something else is magically transformed into "TOWWWWW-ER"), Samantha's
very cute infant booties (and a cute smile to boot!), and a picture from the day she rolled over. Whew!
Friday, September 15, 2006
coke and poop - what a combo!
Who would believe that my two most exciting events of today involved poop and coke? Who could further believe that I would breathe "poop" in the same sentence as my beloved coke?
Tonight, emma was taking a bath with her friend clara anne. As you know, emma sometimes has issues pooping in the bathtub. Well tonight, just like usual, she assumed the squat position and waited. (This is usually my cue to say "poopoo?" and in one swift motion, grab her and stick her on the sink - just to avoid the poop in the bathtub drama. Remember, I ALSO use this bathtub, so my intentions are not completely pure...) She just looked at me and said "peepee!" So - I grabbed her and stuck her on the sink. Two seconds later, I look down and yay! Her first poo-poo! We've been through this routine before, but this is the first "productive" time, so we were all really thrilled with emma's poo. All our guests that evening gave her a rousing round of applause, and emma was so excited to receive all our adulation she could barely contain herself!
Ok, so the coke story.
First, you need some background. I am a coke fanatic. I have a very scientific way I open any coke I drink, I have certain specifications for how already used bottles of coke should be handled and stored in the refrigerator, and I am quite particular about creating the perfect coke-drinking environment. And I don't mean "coke" as in "soda". No, no, no. I mean "coke" as in "coca-cola company", like "take-me-to-atlanta" coke.
Life here in asia has provided me with a dilemma. The coke here just not up to par - much sweeter than the American version, and has much less of what I can only describe as "bite" to it. Thus, I became a traitor to my true beverage love. I began drinking Pepsi (but ONLY in my asian country. I would never do such a thing in America!) The pepsi here seems more like Coke in the States, so at least I can rationalize it that way. However, for special occasions, I have even been known to arrange American-canned coke to be shipped to me from across the country, from import stores willing to ship to me. This is how serious i feel about my beverage choice.
Which brings us to tonight. My husband and two of his friends walked home from a delightful dinner at Pizza Hut while my friend Rachel and I (and our four thousand children) took a taxi back to my house. Right before we were about to go to bed, josh says to me, "hey rach...come look at something in the kitchen."
I walk to the kitchen as he proudly - and reverently - opens the refrigerator door. There, standing like the Statue of Liberty - calling to its tired, poor, and huddled masses longing to drink freely - is a beautiful, gleaming red can of Coca-cola. No foreign language is to be seen, only the small white sticker on the bottom of the can that exuberantly screams "IMPORT". Thinking it was too good to be true, I double-check. Atlanta, Georgia. My heart leaps within me and a contented sigh falls across my face.
My thoughtful and dear husband saw something that would make his wife's heart melt. Surely enough, it did. And I am the proud owner of that special red can.
Let's see how long I can make it last...
Tonight, emma was taking a bath with her friend clara anne. As you know, emma sometimes has issues pooping in the bathtub. Well tonight, just like usual, she assumed the squat position and waited. (This is usually my cue to say "poopoo?" and in one swift motion, grab her and stick her on the sink - just to avoid the poop in the bathtub drama. Remember, I ALSO use this bathtub, so my intentions are not completely pure...) She just looked at me and said "peepee!" So - I grabbed her and stuck her on the sink. Two seconds later, I look down and yay! Her first poo-poo! We've been through this routine before, but this is the first "productive" time, so we were all really thrilled with emma's poo. All our guests that evening gave her a rousing round of applause, and emma was so excited to receive all our adulation she could barely contain herself!
Ok, so the coke story.
First, you need some background. I am a coke fanatic. I have a very scientific way I open any coke I drink, I have certain specifications for how already used bottles of coke should be handled and stored in the refrigerator, and I am quite particular about creating the perfect coke-drinking environment. And I don't mean "coke" as in "soda". No, no, no. I mean "coke" as in "coca-cola company", like "take-me-to-atlanta" coke.
Life here in asia has provided me with a dilemma. The coke here just not up to par - much sweeter than the American version, and has much less of what I can only describe as "bite" to it. Thus, I became a traitor to my true beverage love. I began drinking Pepsi (but ONLY in my asian country. I would never do such a thing in America!) The pepsi here seems more like Coke in the States, so at least I can rationalize it that way. However, for special occasions, I have even been known to arrange American-canned coke to be shipped to me from across the country, from import stores willing to ship to me. This is how serious i feel about my beverage choice.
Which brings us to tonight. My husband and two of his friends walked home from a delightful dinner at Pizza Hut while my friend Rachel and I (and our four thousand children) took a taxi back to my house. Right before we were about to go to bed, josh says to me, "hey rach...come look at something in the kitchen."
I walk to the kitchen as he proudly - and reverently - opens the refrigerator door. There, standing like the Statue of Liberty - calling to its tired, poor, and huddled masses longing to drink freely - is a beautiful, gleaming red can of Coca-cola. No foreign language is to be seen, only the small white sticker on the bottom of the can that exuberantly screams "IMPORT". Thinking it was too good to be true, I double-check. Atlanta, Georgia. My heart leaps within me and a contented sigh falls across my face.
My thoughtful and dear husband saw something that would make his wife's heart melt. Surely enough, it did. And I am the proud owner of that special red can.
Let's see how long I can make it last...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
What a day!
Samantha had a really special day today. So special, in fact, that it deserved its own post, and should not be lumped in with the stewed tomatoes (you'll have to read on...)
This morning I was hanging up laundry in emma's room while samantha played on her tummy on emma's bed. She was having a lovely time cooing and making happy noises and stuff like that, when all of a sudden, she was on her back! She rolled over! Yay Samantha! Later when josh got home, I tried it again just to see if it was a fluke - and she did it again!
But, for this child, one developmental milestone a day is not enough. No siree. This evening as emma was taking a bath - and splashing all over the entire room - samantha was sitting on my lap watching. Emma splashed a huge splash and totally delighted herself, giggling loudly. Then, out of nowhere, samantha started giggling. Really giggling, not just little coos or smiles. Long, loud giggles, in tandem with emma. It was such a special moment. So we convinced emma to keep splashing (is that something we'll regret?!) so that samantha would keep laughing - and she did!
Rolling over and giggles, all in one day. Now THAT made me forget all about stewed tomatoes!
This morning I was hanging up laundry in emma's room while samantha played on her tummy on emma's bed. She was having a lovely time cooing and making happy noises and stuff like that, when all of a sudden, she was on her back! She rolled over! Yay Samantha! Later when josh got home, I tried it again just to see if it was a fluke - and she did it again!
But, for this child, one developmental milestone a day is not enough. No siree. This evening as emma was taking a bath - and splashing all over the entire room - samantha was sitting on my lap watching. Emma splashed a huge splash and totally delighted herself, giggling loudly. Then, out of nowhere, samantha started giggling. Really giggling, not just little coos or smiles. Long, loud giggles, in tandem with emma. It was such a special moment. So we convinced emma to keep splashing (is that something we'll regret?!) so that samantha would keep laughing - and she did!
Rolling over and giggles, all in one day. Now THAT made me forget all about stewed tomatoes!
stewing like tomatoes
Ok, so apparantly my $7 did not go very far and it was time to go the store again this afternoon. There's a nice little local store by my house that has cans of Del Monte Stewed Tomatoes in its small but well-stocked import aisle. So...since my lasagne recipe calls for Stewed Tomatoes, I thought I'd buy a few cans today. What you must know is that the last three times josh and I have been to this store, we have had issues checking out with the tomatoes. Something about not able to ring it up...or at least that's our rough translation of it.
But today, the weather was nice. I had a really productive morning, had a nice lunch with emma and josh. Subliminally in my mind, I thought, "surely today will be different."
I approach the checkout line with my basket full of items...plastic hangers, milk, mushrooms, a few other items, and, of course, the stewed tomatoes. The lady swipes the bar code through the scanner, and it just bleeped at her, so she put my stewed tomatoes back on the conveyer belt at the end of my items (like, what? in five minutes it will magically work?) She rings up all my items and tells me my total.
But wait, I said. You didn't include these, pointing to my three cans of tomatoes. "Oh," she says casually. "You can't buy those."
"I can't buy those?! What do you mean, I can't buy those? They are sitting on the shelf!" (remember, this is a rough translation)
"You can't buy them. They won't ring up, so you can't buy them." (I dont' actually know how to say "ring up", I'm just assuming that's what she said.)
"Why can't I buy them?" I insist. "Yeah, why can't she buy them?" chimes in the sacker. "Yeah, why not?" comments a third interested party.
"Why so many whys? I don't know why, it just won't work!"
So then a helpful little man who works at the store offered to run back up to the second floor where the imported items are to check the bar code number thingy. All the customers waiting behind me send me the evil eye, and the cashier gives an embarrassed shrug. Five minutes later, he returns and proudly proclaims (in english) "Try!" Too bad for him, it didn't work again. A collective sigh goes up from the customers behind me.
"Fine! Forget it," I say...but only after going into a tirade about how these are IMPORTED items, meaning that only foreigners will buy them. Locals will not buy them so they will be sitting on the shelf forever and ever. If they are not willing to sell me my stewed tomatoes, then get them off the stinkin shelf! (I was impressed not only with my ability to think on my feet, but also to use the language so adeptly at such an opportune time.)
I gave her my $9 and before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I blurted, "Where is the manager? And give me that can!" pointing to my stewed tomatoes that had been quickly shoved behind the counter.
I marched over to the customer service desk, and my normally non-confrontational, passive self somehow got left in aisle 3 or something. I told him - quite diplomatically but yet quite fervently - my issue. I repeated my now gramatically correct tirade I had given the previous cashier (I had time to make mental corrections while the guy went to go find the bar code thingy that didn't work). And I told him that all these people (sweeping motion with my hand to the masses of people waiting in line behind me) were waiting on me a long time, and they were very angry at me, but it wasn't my fault - it was the DaRenFa's fault (the name of the supermarket) because they weren't willing to sell me my stewed tomatoes!
Well, the long and short of it is that after 20 minutes and five salespeople later, I finally left the store with two cans of stewed tomatoes and a receipt that supposedly had the barcode on it so that next time I woudln't have this problem.
Tonight, the stewed tomatoes were of special significance because I was going to use them to make minestrone soup. And, woudln't you know, after all that hassle, the soup wasn't even very good. Oh, such is life, I suppose!
But today, the weather was nice. I had a really productive morning, had a nice lunch with emma and josh. Subliminally in my mind, I thought, "surely today will be different."
I approach the checkout line with my basket full of items...plastic hangers, milk, mushrooms, a few other items, and, of course, the stewed tomatoes. The lady swipes the bar code through the scanner, and it just bleeped at her, so she put my stewed tomatoes back on the conveyer belt at the end of my items (like, what? in five minutes it will magically work?) She rings up all my items and tells me my total.
But wait, I said. You didn't include these, pointing to my three cans of tomatoes. "Oh," she says casually. "You can't buy those."
"I can't buy those?! What do you mean, I can't buy those? They are sitting on the shelf!" (remember, this is a rough translation)
"You can't buy them. They won't ring up, so you can't buy them." (I dont' actually know how to say "ring up", I'm just assuming that's what she said.)
"Why can't I buy them?" I insist. "Yeah, why can't she buy them?" chimes in the sacker. "Yeah, why not?" comments a third interested party.
"Why so many whys? I don't know why, it just won't work!"
So then a helpful little man who works at the store offered to run back up to the second floor where the imported items are to check the bar code number thingy. All the customers waiting behind me send me the evil eye, and the cashier gives an embarrassed shrug. Five minutes later, he returns and proudly proclaims (in english) "Try!" Too bad for him, it didn't work again. A collective sigh goes up from the customers behind me.
"Fine! Forget it," I say...but only after going into a tirade about how these are IMPORTED items, meaning that only foreigners will buy them. Locals will not buy them so they will be sitting on the shelf forever and ever. If they are not willing to sell me my stewed tomatoes, then get them off the stinkin shelf! (I was impressed not only with my ability to think on my feet, but also to use the language so adeptly at such an opportune time.)
I gave her my $9 and before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I blurted, "Where is the manager? And give me that can!" pointing to my stewed tomatoes that had been quickly shoved behind the counter.
I marched over to the customer service desk, and my normally non-confrontational, passive self somehow got left in aisle 3 or something. I told him - quite diplomatically but yet quite fervently - my issue. I repeated my now gramatically correct tirade I had given the previous cashier (I had time to make mental corrections while the guy went to go find the bar code thingy that didn't work). And I told him that all these people (sweeping motion with my hand to the masses of people waiting in line behind me) were waiting on me a long time, and they were very angry at me, but it wasn't my fault - it was the DaRenFa's fault (the name of the supermarket) because they weren't willing to sell me my stewed tomatoes!
Well, the long and short of it is that after 20 minutes and five salespeople later, I finally left the store with two cans of stewed tomatoes and a receipt that supposedly had the barcode on it so that next time I woudln't have this problem.
Tonight, the stewed tomatoes were of special significance because I was going to use them to make minestrone soup. And, woudln't you know, after all that hassle, the soup wasn't even very good. Oh, such is life, I suppose!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
just one more...
I've decided to start using spell-check on my blogs from here on out. I was appalled at the many typos I have made in my previous posts. My apologies.
Emma has started doing a funny thing. She has made the connection of "one more". For instance, when we are reviewing body parts, we ask her to point to our eyes. She will locate the first one, then say "one more!" as she finds the second one. She does this now for lots of things, ears, toes, her (multiple) stuffed puppy dogs. But perhaps the most striking example of how I am leaving a legacy with my child was last night when I was eating a leftover brownie. I gave her a little bite, which she immediately inhaled. Two seconds later, she said, "one more...bite!" Yikes! She's addicted too!
I DID manage to go out this morning with all our little bambinos in search for a friend. I carried mantha in the snugli and pushed emma in the stroller, and to my great delight, the girls were amazingly well behaved. We went to a few new streets that we had never been down before, and met lots of little kids emma's age. We bought some bananas from some friendly fruit sellers and chatted with a nice lady who sold water. But, no friends for Rachel.
UNTIL...we were crossing the road on the way home, and a younger looking lady approached me and in brave English, she said "cute baby". Taking this as a cue, we started talking. She helped me heave my stroller over some bumpy pavement - perhaps invoking a type of "damsel in distress" exception? I don't know. Anyway, we said our goodbyes and then parted ways.
But as we seperated, I felt really convicted. I had been asking Someone to give me friends, and here this lady was displaying a) not just a willingness to be brave and say hi (which lots of people don't even get that far) but b) a gentle enough spirit to help me out. To me, those show genuineness and openness. So - in true american fashion - I chased after her and breathlessly asked "do you have a cell phone?" She was really taken aback. I mean, we had a pleasant converstaion while crossing the road, but not really one that would have been considered momentuous or anything. But, anyhow, we exchanged numbers and it turns out we share a similar name (in this language). She seems really nice, and I think that maybe Someone just wanted to see if I was willing to be bold and try. Thankfully, I was - and who knows what could come of it. At least it's a start.
Emma has started doing a funny thing. She has made the connection of "one more". For instance, when we are reviewing body parts, we ask her to point to our eyes. She will locate the first one, then say "one more!" as she finds the second one. She does this now for lots of things, ears, toes, her (multiple) stuffed puppy dogs. But perhaps the most striking example of how I am leaving a legacy with my child was last night when I was eating a leftover brownie. I gave her a little bite, which she immediately inhaled. Two seconds later, she said, "one more...bite!" Yikes! She's addicted too!
I DID manage to go out this morning with all our little bambinos in search for a friend. I carried mantha in the snugli and pushed emma in the stroller, and to my great delight, the girls were amazingly well behaved. We went to a few new streets that we had never been down before, and met lots of little kids emma's age. We bought some bananas from some friendly fruit sellers and chatted with a nice lady who sold water. But, no friends for Rachel.
UNTIL...we were crossing the road on the way home, and a younger looking lady approached me and in brave English, she said "cute baby". Taking this as a cue, we started talking. She helped me heave my stroller over some bumpy pavement - perhaps invoking a type of "damsel in distress" exception? I don't know. Anyway, we said our goodbyes and then parted ways.
But as we seperated, I felt really convicted. I had been asking Someone to give me friends, and here this lady was displaying a) not just a willingness to be brave and say hi (which lots of people don't even get that far) but b) a gentle enough spirit to help me out. To me, those show genuineness and openness. So - in true american fashion - I chased after her and breathlessly asked "do you have a cell phone?" She was really taken aback. I mean, we had a pleasant converstaion while crossing the road, but not really one that would have been considered momentuous or anything. But, anyhow, we exchanged numbers and it turns out we share a similar name (in this language). She seems really nice, and I think that maybe Someone just wanted to see if I was willing to be bold and try. Thankfully, I was - and who knows what could come of it. At least it's a start.
Monday, September 11, 2006
how much can you buy for $7?
Since we've arrived here and begun setting up shop, our trips to the store have been massive ordeals. We actually have to have salespeople push extra carts out to the taxis for us because our purchases surpass the limits of one cart. So you can imagine my surprise today when I went to the store and only spent $7. Not only was I impressed because I only spent $7, I was impressed because I didn't NEED to buy anything else. It wasn't like I was holding back. Ahhh, it's a nice feeling - my house is becoming more like a home and perhaps the grocery bill will start to reflect that.
You may be wondering what seven dollars can buy. Well, tonight's purchases included: two onions, three cans of evaporated milk (a surprise find!), two cartons of milk, a 4-pack of yogurt for emma, 2 loaves of french bread, and a dozen eggs. Aren't you impressed too? It's the least amount of money I have spent at a grocery store since I arrived.
In other news, I decided today that I'm tired of not having any friends. I think I said this the other day, and I know it takes time to make friends, but I feel a little disconnected with life without friends. In my old asian home, I had some really great friends, and I need to get some more. So...(deep breath) tomorrow morning, I plan to load up my bambinos and go for a walk down a little street by my house and look for some friends. I think I'll try to find some little shop full of women that looks friendly and inviting, and perhaps I'll go in and make conversation. Well, who needs to make conversation? Having my children with me makes enough conversation. So, we'll see how it goes. Part 2 of Rachel's search for friends airs tomorrow...
You may be wondering what seven dollars can buy. Well, tonight's purchases included: two onions, three cans of evaporated milk (a surprise find!), two cartons of milk, a 4-pack of yogurt for emma, 2 loaves of french bread, and a dozen eggs. Aren't you impressed too? It's the least amount of money I have spent at a grocery store since I arrived.
In other news, I decided today that I'm tired of not having any friends. I think I said this the other day, and I know it takes time to make friends, but I feel a little disconnected with life without friends. In my old asian home, I had some really great friends, and I need to get some more. So...(deep breath) tomorrow morning, I plan to load up my bambinos and go for a walk down a little street by my house and look for some friends. I think I'll try to find some little shop full of women that looks friendly and inviting, and perhaps I'll go in and make conversation. Well, who needs to make conversation? Having my children with me makes enough conversation. So, we'll see how it goes. Part 2 of Rachel's search for friends airs tomorrow...
Sunday, September 10, 2006
the inauguration
I feel pretty lucky because I have a bathtub. A nice, big, brand new bathtub. I'm one of those ladies who really enjoys hot bubble bath. But, even though I've had this bathtub for a long time, I've only let emma, samantha and thier friends use yet. Until the other day, I had yet to use it.
I was waiting unti that moment where I could really enjoy it. When the stress of wondering if we were getting settled could be put to the back of my mind...when our home was at least moderately furnished. Fortunately, that day finally came. I got a nice book, a 3 Musketeers bar (my current favorite - they do change, you know - courtesy of my dear friend alicia), a nice coke in a frosty mug (another critical element) and a good book (number 2 in the Shopaholic series, which had been left in this country during our time in the States - sorry alicia!) The bathtub has finally been used by yours truly and it was lovely, I tell you.
This past Saturday, our landlord invited us out to play. Yes, that's right...to "play". Why it translates this way, I do not know...but it generally can have a variety of meanings. In this particular instance, it involved her driving us all over the countryside in search of a place to go fishing. :) (why she has such a fascination with sea life, I don't know) After going to several places that were not up to her standard, we drove around to find a place where we could at least eat fish.
the funny thing about this outing is that she brought her son along, which is not necessairly a bad thing. He's a year older than emma, and is your typical boy in this country - spoiled, not accustomed to minding...though I suppose that could apply to american children too. he was sitting in the front seat and refused to put on his seat belt (like his mother asked him too about seven thousand times). So, to make up for the fact that he was not safely seated in the car, she drove about 30 miles an hour the entire time we were gone. I kid you not. I do think there's a certain member of my family who has a similar habit... (wink, wink...) but, alas there were no policemen to pull over our landlord and tell her to drive faster, so along we go.
we actually had an enjoyable time, once we finally got to a place to eat and settle. Keeping emma entertained for 2 hours in the car was not an easy task, and she was eager to get out and play when we finally arrived. We ended up going to this really cool area along a reservoir where there were fun little paddleboats and other fun water activities.
We all rode in a boat (I was scared out of my mind the entire time because none of us had life jackets. Granted, the water was only three or four feet deep, but still the boat was much too unstable for my tastes!) Emma loved the boat ride and watching the fish inside. She got to see a butterfly, and a chicken, and some puppies...so she had a lovely time. We also picked some flowers and ate some great fish. But to top off what was otherwise a remarkably enjoyable asian-style outing, our landlord's son threw up in the car on the way home... :)
I suppose that since samantha wasn't really mentioned in this post, I ought to write something about her so she doens't feel left out. She got bundled up very cozily for our outing and looked really cute, thanks to some darling hand-me-downs from my cousin laurie and a cute pair of infant booties. She also has a fun little playgym (picture attached) and she has finally figured out how to bat at the bears that hang down to make them move. She really enjoys that a lot.
change of subject. Since winter is on the way, I have a very urgent and pressing problem. I only have pants from my pre-pregnancy days. And, as many of you know, I have yet to dispose of all of my post-samantha baby weight. But...I think I only have a few more weeks in which to solve this problem because it is getting cooler by the day out here. So I am considering a caffiene and chocolate sabbatical - only for a few weeks, mind you - in order to apply concentrated effort to have some warm clothing that fits me. I know it is important to be properly clothed; I'm just trying to decide if it's worth giving up coke and chocolate. I suppose I'd have to exercise a bit too (this really IS a serious situation if it involves exercise) so I must consider the matter carefully and not make a hasty decision. Ok, enough for now. enjoy the pics.
I was waiting unti that moment where I could really enjoy it. When the stress of wondering if we were getting settled could be put to the back of my mind...when our home was at least moderately furnished. Fortunately, that day finally came. I got a nice book, a 3 Musketeers bar (my current favorite - they do change, you know - courtesy of my dear friend alicia), a nice coke in a frosty mug (another critical element) and a good book (number 2 in the Shopaholic series, which had been left in this country during our time in the States - sorry alicia!) The bathtub has finally been used by yours truly and it was lovely, I tell you.
This past Saturday, our landlord invited us out to play. Yes, that's right...to "play". Why it translates this way, I do not know...but it generally can have a variety of meanings. In this particular instance, it involved her driving us all over the countryside in search of a place to go fishing. :) (why she has such a fascination with sea life, I don't know) After going to several places that were not up to her standard, we drove around to find a place where we could at least eat fish.
the funny thing about this outing is that she brought her son along, which is not necessairly a bad thing. He's a year older than emma, and is your typical boy in this country - spoiled, not accustomed to minding...though I suppose that could apply to american children too. he was sitting in the front seat and refused to put on his seat belt (like his mother asked him too about seven thousand times). So, to make up for the fact that he was not safely seated in the car, she drove about 30 miles an hour the entire time we were gone. I kid you not. I do think there's a certain member of my family who has a similar habit... (wink, wink...) but, alas there were no policemen to pull over our landlord and tell her to drive faster, so along we go.
we actually had an enjoyable time, once we finally got to a place to eat and settle. Keeping emma entertained for 2 hours in the car was not an easy task, and she was eager to get out and play when we finally arrived. We ended up going to this really cool area along a reservoir where there were fun little paddleboats and other fun water activities.
We all rode in a boat (I was scared out of my mind the entire time because none of us had life jackets. Granted, the water was only three or four feet deep, but still the boat was much too unstable for my tastes!) Emma loved the boat ride and watching the fish inside. She got to see a butterfly, and a chicken, and some puppies...so she had a lovely time. We also picked some flowers and ate some great fish. But to top off what was otherwise a remarkably enjoyable asian-style outing, our landlord's son threw up in the car on the way home... :)
I suppose that since samantha wasn't really mentioned in this post, I ought to write something about her so she doens't feel left out. She got bundled up very cozily for our outing and looked really cute, thanks to some darling hand-me-downs from my cousin laurie and a cute pair of infant booties. She also has a fun little playgym (picture attached) and she has finally figured out how to bat at the bears that hang down to make them move. She really enjoys that a lot.
change of subject. Since winter is on the way, I have a very urgent and pressing problem. I only have pants from my pre-pregnancy days. And, as many of you know, I have yet to dispose of all of my post-samantha baby weight. But...I think I only have a few more weeks in which to solve this problem because it is getting cooler by the day out here. So I am considering a caffiene and chocolate sabbatical - only for a few weeks, mind you - in order to apply concentrated effort to have some warm clothing that fits me. I know it is important to be properly clothed; I'm just trying to decide if it's worth giving up coke and chocolate. I suppose I'd have to exercise a bit too (this really IS a serious situation if it involves exercise) so I must consider the matter carefully and not make a hasty decision. Ok, enough for now. enjoy the pics.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
How could this have happened?
It's almost like I looked up two days ago and realized that life does not have a pause button. My life is not on freeze frame while the rest of the world orbits around me. We are in a constant state of move, change, and growth. These facts I can swallow, but it was two days ago that I realized it applied to my children. I looked up and realized Samantha is not a newborn anymore. She can hold her head up by herself. She can sit up (with help, of course). She can stay awake for long stretches (sometimes TOO long of stretches...) She smiles at us when we walk by her, proving that her range of vision continues to expand. She laughs and coos in happy response when we sing to her. She has officially outgrown her 0-3 month clothes, making her - in my estimation - well on the path to being a full-fledged adult. Samantha is growing up. My sweet, sleepy newborn that rested so comfortably in the cradle of my arms...my once helpless little baby, who could barely put pressure on her tiny legs now loves to stand and look around. My Samantha is growing up. How could this have happened?
If that weren't sobering enough, it was also two days ago that I realized Emma, too, has moved on to a new clothing size. All her 18 month clothes are tight around the arms, cover her tummy a little too tightly...signaling that she is no longer an 18-month old. Almost out of denial (and partly because she has really cute clothes) I am prolonging the agony. Surely these capris can last one more day, I think. But I talk myself out of it each morning at the dresser. She is well on her way - can I even get the words out? - to being a two-year old. I don't know whether to cry or cringe, but either way, I can barely believe it. I remember months of toothless grins, now replaced by a mouthful of emerging teeth. I remember precious times of cuddling her close to me, now made impossible by her energetic shrieks - "down! down!" I remember how small Emma looked as a tiny infant in her pack-and-play, then I look hesitatingly over to the new "big-girl-bed" that sits in the corner of Emma's room. I still cannot bring myself to make the transition. My treasured little child - once only Samantha's size - has proven to me with undeniable evidence that no, there is no pause button for these precious years to lazily pass. These special and cherished moments fly by at warp speed, complicated and crowded out by busy lives and hectic schedules. My Emma is growing up. How could this have happened?
So here I sit, listening to one child stay up way past her bed-time, talking to her animals while trapped in her crib, and watching the other child drift off to sleep in her bouncer. Here I ask myself the question, where did the time go? How fast will the next years go by? What can I do to stop the time? Yet I know it is a daily effort - a disciplined, intentional effort - to treasure these days. Running in the rain to the taxi. Watching the sweet face of a newborn sleeping. Helping Emma stir the muffin mix we are making. Wiping the tears that trickle down chubby cheeks. Each day brings its memories. Making the effort to treasure them is MY job.
If that weren't sobering enough, it was also two days ago that I realized Emma, too, has moved on to a new clothing size. All her 18 month clothes are tight around the arms, cover her tummy a little too tightly...signaling that she is no longer an 18-month old. Almost out of denial (and partly because she has really cute clothes) I am prolonging the agony. Surely these capris can last one more day, I think. But I talk myself out of it each morning at the dresser. She is well on her way - can I even get the words out? - to being a two-year old. I don't know whether to cry or cringe, but either way, I can barely believe it. I remember months of toothless grins, now replaced by a mouthful of emerging teeth. I remember precious times of cuddling her close to me, now made impossible by her energetic shrieks - "down! down!" I remember how small Emma looked as a tiny infant in her pack-and-play, then I look hesitatingly over to the new "big-girl-bed" that sits in the corner of Emma's room. I still cannot bring myself to make the transition. My treasured little child - once only Samantha's size - has proven to me with undeniable evidence that no, there is no pause button for these precious years to lazily pass. These special and cherished moments fly by at warp speed, complicated and crowded out by busy lives and hectic schedules. My Emma is growing up. How could this have happened?
So here I sit, listening to one child stay up way past her bed-time, talking to her animals while trapped in her crib, and watching the other child drift off to sleep in her bouncer. Here I ask myself the question, where did the time go? How fast will the next years go by? What can I do to stop the time? Yet I know it is a daily effort - a disciplined, intentional effort - to treasure these days. Running in the rain to the taxi. Watching the sweet face of a newborn sleeping. Helping Emma stir the muffin mix we are making. Wiping the tears that trickle down chubby cheeks. Each day brings its memories. Making the effort to treasure them is MY job.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
McGuest
Hello all. Well, today, I, Josh, will be sitting in for EggRoll Mama. I did have to get special permission, not for the content per se, but simply to invade her personal communication space. But I digress. I hope it's enjoyable, informative, and entertaining...
Oh, McDonalds. After our second or third trip back home from this Asian country, Rachel and I were driving through our small college town, and suddently we came upon the Golden Arches; oh yes, the Golden Arches. We began talking about how it's funny that we rarely go to McDs while in the states (except for some breakfast), but also how, when we live in this Asia country, it is a regular stop that is a safe haven for decent burgers, good Coke, and guaranteed air conditioning when it's 100 degress F and 90% humidity, and at a reasonable price. (Big Macs are about $1.50). Talk about globalization and the ability to reproduce exactly items the world over...the burgers, fries, and even the apple pies taste exactly the same; it's weird, a little weird I guess, how we are 7000 miles away from home, and yet so close to what we consider a reminder of 'western' life. Also, at the McDs here in this Asian country, there are small play areas for the kidos with a slide and place to climb around, etc. Emma has been particularly interested in climbing and exploring these past few weeks, and so we would take her to McDs (or KFC) to eat and play.
One of the interesting parts of this culture, or customs I should say, is that this Asian country's people have quite a different view of cleaniless and what it means for things to be sanitary. When western-style sit-down toilets were introduced in the 1990s in hotels, restaurants, and homes, the immediate response was, "how do we stand on top of it without falling?" Yes, this Asian country's people, their toilets, in the past and more rural areas of today, are level with the ground and are just a porcelain pan with a hole in it that you squat on top of to relieve one's self. That's easy for an adult, but what about the kids?
Well, not only were western-style sit-down toilets a new thing difficult to except, but diapers, or these wrap-around-keep-the-poo-n-pee-inside-until-you-change-it things were particularly difficult because, for one reason, the cost of buying them was too expensive. Diapers, were not and continue to be expensive here in this Asian country. So, with the toilets, this country's people have started and continue to make the change to western-style sit-down toilets, and they use them while sitting on them, not standing so much anymore. But the transition to diapers, although not a higher form of culture but what most people consider to be a sanitary way of managing and maintaining the body functions of an infant or small child, continue to be more difficult to except.
So, this country's people continue to use their timeless and age old practice of the "Kai Dang Ku." Kai means open, Dang, well let's just translate it as split, and Ku means pants; so literally 'open split pants.' In the crotch area, their is a split, front to back. Why a split? Well, so that when the child has to relieve themselves, then they won't go inside their pants, thereby making the pants unusable until being washed. And we all know how often small children relieve themselves. So, the child goes to the bathroom outside his/her pants, which inevitably because of gravity and such natural laws means that their poo and pee end up on the ground. Now, granted, there are some adults supervising the kids who, try as they may, make an effort for their children to go on the side of the side walk rather than in the middle, but sometimes, the poo or pee ends up in the middle. (Now you know why most Asian countries have you take off your shoes at the door and use inside-the-house-sandals.) There are some other parents who find some newspaper or the like to put underneath for easy clean up; that's thinking ahead.
Children as old as three or four wear the KaiDangKu. Obviously children this old make an obvious choice of when to go the bathroom and when to not, and yes, even some of them still use the side of the sidewalk or nearby tree to relieve themselves.
So, the other day, my friend JJ, a westerner who also finds safe haven in McDs, was out and about and decided to stop at McDs for a burger. JJ also has some small children, but was alone this day. He got his food, and sat in the back near the play area. For some time, Rachel and I had been wondering how the KaiDangKu and play areas worked together. Do parents really let the children's open private area slide down the slide and play in the ball pit; surely not? Oh, this day, my friend JJ was going to see first hand. Not only do the parents allow their KaiDangKu kids to play in the area and slide down the slide, but my friend JJ had sat down just in time to see a kid squat and lay a McPoo right their in the McDs McPlay area; the McWorkers took their sweet McTime cleaning it up, with a McTowel, but no McSpray as that would kill the McGerms.
Emma loves to climb and play, and I want to encourage her to climb and play, but alas, she will not be a McKid, not when her Bu KaiDangKu (bu meaning not, so "not open split pants") are sliding down the same McSlide as the split pants dirty bum kids, at least not when Mama Eggroll is around. :)
Oh, McDonalds. After our second or third trip back home from this Asian country, Rachel and I were driving through our small college town, and suddently we came upon the Golden Arches; oh yes, the Golden Arches. We began talking about how it's funny that we rarely go to McDs while in the states (except for some breakfast), but also how, when we live in this Asia country, it is a regular stop that is a safe haven for decent burgers, good Coke, and guaranteed air conditioning when it's 100 degress F and 90% humidity, and at a reasonable price. (Big Macs are about $1.50). Talk about globalization and the ability to reproduce exactly items the world over...the burgers, fries, and even the apple pies taste exactly the same; it's weird, a little weird I guess, how we are 7000 miles away from home, and yet so close to what we consider a reminder of 'western' life. Also, at the McDs here in this Asian country, there are small play areas for the kidos with a slide and place to climb around, etc. Emma has been particularly interested in climbing and exploring these past few weeks, and so we would take her to McDs (or KFC) to eat and play.
One of the interesting parts of this culture, or customs I should say, is that this Asian country's people have quite a different view of cleaniless and what it means for things to be sanitary. When western-style sit-down toilets were introduced in the 1990s in hotels, restaurants, and homes, the immediate response was, "how do we stand on top of it without falling?" Yes, this Asian country's people, their toilets, in the past and more rural areas of today, are level with the ground and are just a porcelain pan with a hole in it that you squat on top of to relieve one's self. That's easy for an adult, but what about the kids?
Well, not only were western-style sit-down toilets a new thing difficult to except, but diapers, or these wrap-around-keep-the-poo-n-pee-inside-until-you-change-it things were particularly difficult because, for one reason, the cost of buying them was too expensive. Diapers, were not and continue to be expensive here in this Asian country. So, with the toilets, this country's people have started and continue to make the change to western-style sit-down toilets, and they use them while sitting on them, not standing so much anymore. But the transition to diapers, although not a higher form of culture but what most people consider to be a sanitary way of managing and maintaining the body functions of an infant or small child, continue to be more difficult to except.
So, this country's people continue to use their timeless and age old practice of the "Kai Dang Ku." Kai means open, Dang, well let's just translate it as split, and Ku means pants; so literally 'open split pants.' In the crotch area, their is a split, front to back. Why a split? Well, so that when the child has to relieve themselves, then they won't go inside their pants, thereby making the pants unusable until being washed. And we all know how often small children relieve themselves. So, the child goes to the bathroom outside his/her pants, which inevitably because of gravity and such natural laws means that their poo and pee end up on the ground. Now, granted, there are some adults supervising the kids who, try as they may, make an effort for their children to go on the side of the side walk rather than in the middle, but sometimes, the poo or pee ends up in the middle. (Now you know why most Asian countries have you take off your shoes at the door and use inside-the-house-sandals.) There are some other parents who find some newspaper or the like to put underneath for easy clean up; that's thinking ahead.
Children as old as three or four wear the KaiDangKu. Obviously children this old make an obvious choice of when to go the bathroom and when to not, and yes, even some of them still use the side of the sidewalk or nearby tree to relieve themselves.
So, the other day, my friend JJ, a westerner who also finds safe haven in McDs, was out and about and decided to stop at McDs for a burger. JJ also has some small children, but was alone this day. He got his food, and sat in the back near the play area. For some time, Rachel and I had been wondering how the KaiDangKu and play areas worked together. Do parents really let the children's open private area slide down the slide and play in the ball pit; surely not? Oh, this day, my friend JJ was going to see first hand. Not only do the parents allow their KaiDangKu kids to play in the area and slide down the slide, but my friend JJ had sat down just in time to see a kid squat and lay a McPoo right their in the McDs McPlay area; the McWorkers took their sweet McTime cleaning it up, with a McTowel, but no McSpray as that would kill the McGerms.
Emma loves to climb and play, and I want to encourage her to climb and play, but alas, she will not be a McKid, not when her Bu KaiDangKu (bu meaning not, so "not open split pants") are sliding down the same McSlide as the split pants dirty bum kids, at least not when Mama Eggroll is around. :)
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
liberation
I think our little daughter emma is going to be one of those people who love to set captives free (trying to be like Who we all want to be like!) The reason I feel this way is because every morning when emma wakes up (or, at least when we finally hear her screaming for milk...) we lift her out of bed and put her on the ground for us to walk to the kitchen together. But, before we make it two steps out of her room, she starts running back to her room. With a frantic, panicked look on her face, she yells the names of all her toys still captured inside her bed. I think she assumes that since she herself has been let out of that terrible cage, all her pet stuffed animals must also be freed too. One by one they come out..."puppy"...."puppy, one more"..."ish"..."dora-dora"...until they are all safely outside the mesh walls of the prison cell. Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almight, we're free at last.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
the landlord
I'm trying to figure out the best way to describe my landlord. She's Josh's age, tiny (what asian girl isn't?), trendy, wealthy...and, I think, really happy to have foreigners renting her apartment. The problem is that she has a bad habit of randomly stopping by, just to see what's going on. I thought once the initial excitement of the "new foreigners" wore off, she would quit coming by, but so far that has not been the case. The problem of her daily stop-by routine is rooted in the fact that she herself lives in the building next to us, and her office is not just in our building, but right next door to us on our floor. That's where this word "shun bian" comes into play. For those of you not studying this language, it gives the connotation of "well, since I'm on my way..." or "oh, I'll just stop by since I'm in the area..." Obviously this is a very loose translation, but you get the idea.
Since it may sound to you like I am unwelcoming of new friends, let me explain why our landlord qualifies as an exception. If she were just coming over to say hi, or to let our kids play together (she has an abnormally shy 3 year old boy) that would be fine with me. The real issue is that she never comes empty handed. She has brought us bags of dried shrimp, dried seafood flakes, more fruit than is possible or desirable to eat, huge bouquets of roses from her travels to famous cities, puzzles and other random toys for emma. Unfortunately, these gifts are usually things that we either don't want/need or are not our taste (ie, dried seafood flakes). But today's gift was the kicker.
Last week, she invited us to go with her on her visit to a seaside city in our area. since we coudln't go, she promised she would bring us back something - my translation of the conversation led me to believe she was going to bring back some polished rocks from the seashore (something, in fact, I had use for...strangely enough). Apparently, my language skills were worse than I thought. This afternoon when she called, she told josh she had to come over today because her gift wouldn't be "good" tomorrow. Yikes.
When she arrives, I open the door to find her proudly holding toward me a bucket of a live seafood assortment. Hmmmm. There were five large clams in there, all opening and closing thier little clam-thing. there were four of these black spiky things, and a bag of fish that they had personally caught when they went fishing. I tried to contain my enthusiasm.
So she walks into the house and is jabbering a mile a minute, telling me how special and good these certain foods are, how to cook them, and wondering wouldn't I like to try them now? She fumbles around through my cabinets, looking for a pot and then starts cleaning off the sea porcupine things and the clams (who are, by the way, very unhappy about the whole process. As she sticks them under the faucet to rinse them, they angrily clam up and slam thier clam-things shut. It was wild!)
She starts boiling them and excitedly tells me that they'll be done in five minutes. With a flip in my stomach, I realize she's not leaving until they are done, which also means she's staying to see if I agree with her that they are "hao chi" (good and tasty). Five minutes later, josh and I bravely stick the clam in our mouth and try our best to show our appreciation for her very expensive gift. It was that moment that I wish I knew how to translate - do not cast your pears before swine!
In other news:
Saturday morning when I went to go get emma up, I discovered that she had thrown up in her bed at some undisclosed time during the night. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that there was throw up all over her precious blanket and matted in her hair. She didn't seem fussy, sick, or anything else. Wouldn't you know...the day emma throws up and needs a complete washing from head to toe is the day all the water in our building mysteriously goes out. We didn't get water in our apartment until 5:00 that night. So josh bought large bottles of water and we washed her hair with filtered water. What a spoiled little girl! :)
Since it may sound to you like I am unwelcoming of new friends, let me explain why our landlord qualifies as an exception. If she were just coming over to say hi, or to let our kids play together (she has an abnormally shy 3 year old boy) that would be fine with me. The real issue is that she never comes empty handed. She has brought us bags of dried shrimp, dried seafood flakes, more fruit than is possible or desirable to eat, huge bouquets of roses from her travels to famous cities, puzzles and other random toys for emma. Unfortunately, these gifts are usually things that we either don't want/need or are not our taste (ie, dried seafood flakes). But today's gift was the kicker.
Last week, she invited us to go with her on her visit to a seaside city in our area. since we coudln't go, she promised she would bring us back something - my translation of the conversation led me to believe she was going to bring back some polished rocks from the seashore (something, in fact, I had use for...strangely enough). Apparently, my language skills were worse than I thought. This afternoon when she called, she told josh she had to come over today because her gift wouldn't be "good" tomorrow. Yikes.
When she arrives, I open the door to find her proudly holding toward me a bucket of a live seafood assortment. Hmmmm. There were five large clams in there, all opening and closing thier little clam-thing. there were four of these black spiky things, and a bag of fish that they had personally caught when they went fishing. I tried to contain my enthusiasm.
So she walks into the house and is jabbering a mile a minute, telling me how special and good these certain foods are, how to cook them, and wondering wouldn't I like to try them now? She fumbles around through my cabinets, looking for a pot and then starts cleaning off the sea porcupine things and the clams (who are, by the way, very unhappy about the whole process. As she sticks them under the faucet to rinse them, they angrily clam up and slam thier clam-things shut. It was wild!)
She starts boiling them and excitedly tells me that they'll be done in five minutes. With a flip in my stomach, I realize she's not leaving until they are done, which also means she's staying to see if I agree with her that they are "hao chi" (good and tasty). Five minutes later, josh and I bravely stick the clam in our mouth and try our best to show our appreciation for her very expensive gift. It was that moment that I wish I knew how to translate - do not cast your pears before swine!
In other news:
Saturday morning when I went to go get emma up, I discovered that she had thrown up in her bed at some undisclosed time during the night. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that there was throw up all over her precious blanket and matted in her hair. She didn't seem fussy, sick, or anything else. Wouldn't you know...the day emma throws up and needs a complete washing from head to toe is the day all the water in our building mysteriously goes out. We didn't get water in our apartment until 5:00 that night. So josh bought large bottles of water and we washed her hair with filtered water. What a spoiled little girl! :)
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