Am I bragging if...?

Am I bragging if I devote an entire post to the cute and funny things my children are doing? They have been so adorable lately (mischevious, of course...but also adorable!) and I guess I want to record some of the highlights for my own benefit, as well as yours!

Here begins my happy highlight list from the last few days:

* Yesterday at lunch, Emma counted to 10 all by herself! We like to spend time counting, but she would usually just repeat 9, 10, 9, 10 over and over again. Maybe it has something to with "Nine, ten...do it all again!" or something. But anyhow, at the table, I said, "Emma, let's count for daddy!" and she busted it out all on her own. We didn't even prompt her. Has she done it since? Well...no, but what does that matter? She's moving on to bigger and better things! :)

* We have also been playing a little game with her called "colors". Ok, ok, it's not the most imaginative title (you can tell it was us, not milton bradley who invented it) but she really loves it. She has these index cards with colors and shapes on them and we lay them on the couch. She rounds up her "dora, dora" purse and we yell out a color for her to go and get. She runs, feet pitter-pattering on our squeaky wood floors, until she finds the requested color. She then clumsily shoves it into her dora purse of treasures. Of course, I think my child is brilliant, but actually she knows several of the colors quite well. Blue, brown, black and green she can identify immediately and without error. But, when we get to purple, pink, red, orange, yellow, and white, well...they become brown, black, green and blue. But four is better than none, dont' you think?



* In the bath tonight, Emma stood straight up and put her hands on the side of the bathtub. Whatever possessed her to do what came next, I have no idea. A huge smile crossed her face, she lifted one leg up into the air as high as she possibly could and shouted, "Careeeeeeeeful!" She certainly doesn't get that from her mother!

* At dinner tonight, Josh let out a belch. ( I wish I could say this behavior is unusual, but unfortunately...well, anyway) Without missing a beat, Emma piped up with a gentle reminder to her daddy: "Cuse me!"

* The last few days I have been quite engrossed in a novel that a "friend" lent me. (The only reason "friend" was in quotation marks was because she knew it was a very gripping story, and lent it to me anyway completely knowing I would be useless for any of the days I read it! Instead of doing the dishes, I opted for the next chapter. Instead of rising early to take a shower, I sleep in because I'm so tired from staying up late reading the novel. This also explains why my blog has not been updated in a few days.) Emma was sitting on the bed with me this evening as I fed samantha, and she noticed the book. Taking in its considerable thickness, she looked at me and said with sincere certainty: "mommy's bible."

Oh, emma...thank you for thinking the best of me! Perhaps next time, it will truly be mommy's bible!

Samantha's turn now:

* Samantha in the last few days has started really reaching for things. The most meaningful thing that has been caught within her grasp lately is mommy and daddy's faces. I remembered when Emma used to reach up and touch our face, and now that samantha is doing it, I feel so happy inside!

* Samantha loves to stand on her two legs, as you can see! (that is, of course, when Emma doesn't butt in to be the center of attention!)

* Samantha's terribly dry skin is improving, but only a little bit. We've heard that the driest weather is still yet to come, so we shall see how her little skins hold up!

* We're not putting Samantha on a diet or anything, but this week she has gone from six feedings down to five. The great thing about it is that at 8:00pm when Emma goes down for the night, I give mantha her last feeding and by about 8:30, my child obligations are over! (well, at least until morning...) I've really enjoyed this new routine! :)

Well, it seems again that blogger is unwilling for me to post my pictures, so check back to this post in a few days. I've got really cute ones in store for you!

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star...

While I was shopping a few weeks ago, I came across a package of glow-in-the-dark stars and moons. I thought Emma would think it would be really fun, since she loves looking at the stars and moon when we are out at night.

I decided tonight was a good night for a special surprise. While she was reading books with daddy in the living room, I snuck into her room, balanced precipitously upon a shaky blue chair and affixed the multi-colored stars and moons to her ceiling and wall.

"Ta-da!" I happily announced. I went to the living room to show emma my work of art. (I must say, they were hung rather well.)

Truly, she loved the stars. They made a great distraction during diaper changes, and we sang "twinkle, twinkle" till I was convinced I could sing it no longer.

Then bedtime came.

Brush teeth...say prayers...big family hug...tuck in...don't forget blanket...and minnie (thanks, kim!)...or puppy...or bear...and finally, ah, close the door.

Within nanoseconds after the door was shut, something broke loose from emma's room. Shrieks, screams, tears...it must have been awful.

I went in to console her, give her some hugs, and tuck her back in. We looked up at stars together. We sang (what else?) twinkle, twinkle again. And back to bed she went.

More screams. What could be wrong with her?

This time, she got a spanking. (We have a "no crying, no whining, no fussing" rule at bedtime, remember?) More hugs, more kisses, and back to bed.

When she started screaming for the third time, Josh enlightened me. Perhaps, he thought, glow-in-the-dark stars are really fun for a four year old (like the box recommends) but are just a bit too much of a paradigm shift for a one and a half year old.

I asked emma, "do you want the stars?"

"ok. bye-bye, stars."

I took that as my cue.

So, the carefully affixed stars were taken down just hours after they were put up.

No stars twinkling in this house!

the revelation

The other day I had quite a revelation.

Generally speaking, our family avoids going out on the weekend. Any place that might normally be tempting to visit loses all its appeal on the weekends. Weekends are when the masses get off of work and come in droves to any place that is remotely appealing - pizza hut, the parks, playgrounds, the supermarket. Granted, that is also usually the case in america, but we're talking about things on a much different scale out here.

That being the case, we plan to stay inside on the weekends. We'll plan Pizza Hut for random Wednesday nights or do our grocery shopping at 1:30 in the afternoon. But, the other day it was unavoidable.

My landlord and I went out on a Saturday to do some shopping for a few household items. After we made our purchases, she wanted to take me out to lunch to this steak-house typish place. (*Note: this is not an actual steak place, just a asian-ese steak place, very loosely based on US steak places!) Being a saturday, it was indeed crowded. It was only her and I (and Samantha), so the 20 minute wait wasn't nearly as daunting as if Emma were there.

But when we sat down, I was so surprised at what I saw. I have felt for a long while that my heart really is for young families - people in the same place that I am in, but it has been so hard for me to find people like that. But as I looked around the random steak place, nearly every table had a small child with them.

It seems a bit incongruous that here we are, trying to "find" all these young families while avoiding those very few times when people have the opportunity to be out and about. When the people are out, I make a point to be in. When the people are in, I make a point to be out.

No wonder I don't have any friends.

To be continued...

the bedtime routine and other random thoughts

Emma used to be a girl who would go down for sleep quite easily - we usually laid her down, turned on her nightlight, and we didn't hear a peep from her until her 7am waking up call happily requesting her morning milk. Oh, how things have changed.

Now, she really lays the drama on thick at bedtime. She's started using stall-tactics (like, as we are walking out the door after tucking her in, she'll say "mommy?" and wait for my response, "yes, emma?" "whove you!" Yes, emma...I love you too, but it's time for bed!) But sometimes, she really cries and whines at bedtime. So josh started a little routine with her.

As he tucks her in, he very firmly tells her, "Emma, there's NO crying, NO whining, and NO fussing in bed, ok?"

She used to respond with a sweet little "ok."

But the other day as I was tucking her in, SHE initiated the routine.

"Mommy! Noooooooooo cryin! Noooooooooooo whinin! Noooooooooo fuffin! (short pause, while emma takes a moment to think) Fuffin! Muffin! Muffin? Wheeeeeeze!"

So from that point on, emma associated the bedtime routine with her favorite breakfast snack of muffins. Now I really can't put her to bed with a straight face. It's the funniest thing in the world!




In other news, we got back from our little retreat to the mountains. It was quite the adventure! Even the lazy people who choose to take the bus/cable car combo instead of climbing the 6650 steps (yes, that's six thousand steps still had to climb some steps - and josh turned out to be super-dad, carrying Emma a whole whole lot! So Josh carried emma on his shoulders while Samantha and I bundled up and kept each other warm in the snugli carrier and we climbed up and down this mountain that is a very signficant part of asian history...or so we are told.

Actually, we had a really great week - even though it was really hazy outside (we were up so high that those were, in fact, clouds that we were inside rather than the typical pollution you might expect from this country) it was still really nice. We especially enjoyed spending time with our friends after all the girls had gone to bed - with uninterrupted pryer and study times, and even having time to play scrabble and other games, we felt like real adults again!

And Samantha had a good time too, but she mostly had a good time playing on the couch after we arrived back at the hotel. During the mountain ascent, she pretty much slept the entire time. Right before we came back to this country, we bought a fleece cover for the front carrier thing, so she was warm and bundled up the whole time. I'd fall asleep too...

oops!

ok, so I'll try again posting samantha's 100 day pictures.

Just fyi...we are heading out of town for a few days to go on a little retreat thing, so (sigh...) no blog updates for a few days.

more later.

100 day pictures are here!

Samantha's Love Potion No.9

I remember when Emma was still a baby, there were quite a number of times where she would have unexplainable bouts of crying. We didn't know why she was crying, as it seemed that all her immediate needs were met. Nor did we know how to solve the crying. Chalk it up to experience, or maybe just samantha's personality, but it seems that Samantha has significantly fewer bouts of "random crying" than emma did.

But tonight was a random night, I guess. During the rush to get home from the grocery store and get dinner on the table, samantha let loose on us. First, we tried her current favorite - the bears on her playgym. Then we put her in a dark room and gave her the pacifier. Two approaches down and still 20 minutes into uninterrupted crying, I had no idea what to do. Josh went in and tried to comfort her. I went in and tried to comfort her.

As I held her, bouncing, singing and praying all simultaneously (mothers are great multi-taskers!) I leaned my head against the window in despair.

Samantha was hooked. Somehow, out of the corner of her eye while I leaned despairingly on the window, she saw the blur of cars, buses, bicycles and pedestrians all going to and fro on the busy street below. I think perhaps her vision is still too immature to see the objects distinctly, but she certainly saw the motion and was hooked.

We stood there for 10 minutes, until I finally decided I needed to finish getting dinner ready. The moment her back was to the window, she started howling again. I trudged back over to the window, and sweet silence once again permeated the house. It's official: Samantha's new favorite activity is people-watching outside the window.

Since this post is mostly about Samantha, I'll put up some pics of her that have been taken in the last few days.



You can see that we are starting to cultivate an early appetite for reading, but since she's so young, we thought "Fuzzy Bee" was ok to start with. Jane Austen can wait a while. She has alternating periods of intense seriousness and extreme delight with Fuzzy Bee, as you can tell.



Josh and I are amazed at how quickly she has grown; even though we vowed to ourselves to savor each day with her (and we really feel that we have!) we just can't seem to make the time stand still. Samantha is getting really good at sitting on the couch, surrounded by pillows, and has gotten lots of upper body strength. She's also a pretty happy "tummy-time" girl, though her sister at this age was not. Samantha really likes to be a part of whatever is going on, and we love having her be a part with us!



Emma is usually quite delighted to share her belongings with Samantha - this particular day, Samantha was the recipient of emma's most treasured things...her stuffed animals. Emma generously gave Samantha(or more accurately, threw in the general direction of samantha) bear, cheer bear, caterpillar, fish, lamb, puppy, zebra, another bear, puppy, and maybe even something else buried under the rubble. Samantha was a little overwhelmed by such a gracious display of generosity, and didn't seem to mind when Emma suddenly changed her mind and realized that all of her treasured possessions were not in their proper place.

Speaking of Emma, probably in a couple of weeks we will begin (???) potty training her. In the weeks leading up to the "big day", we've been encouraging her to be aware of her peepee and poopoo. She is really excited when she has her own peepee and poopoo to be proud of, and often runs toward us with feet pattering loudly. She'll throw herself on our laps and yell, "Check! Check! pee pee!" then we "check" to see if she has peepee and we all clap and say hooray.

Well, today emma decided that she should take a more nurturing approach to the aforementioned stuffed animals. She lined them all up on the couch - bear, puppy, giraffe, Samantha's elephant, caterpillar - and then brought them one by one to me.

"mommy, effant, check, peepee! yay, peepee!"

"mommy, puppy, check, peepee! yay, peepee!"

"mommy, caberdillar, check, peepee! yay, peepee!"

And so it went until all her animals had emptied themselves and been acknowledged. Let's just hope its that easy when it's her turn!

the joys of cooking?

I think cooking is all about your approach. Approach defines everything.

For example, for my friend Rachel (whose post on cooking was "oh, the joys of cooking!" - note the exclamation point, whereas my post shows a question mark...) cooking is an art form. Her spice racks are meticulously kept up and well-stocked. Her favorite pasttime is reading cookbooks. Her house always smells of something fresh from the oven. When her kids are sleeping, how will you find her spending her time? Making some yummy treat in the kitchen. Yes, for that Rachel, cooking is an art.

Then we get to this Rachel. For me, cooking is purely functional. I like to eat, so therefore I cook. I keep spices in my spice rack because I like to eat cookies and muffins (as evidenced by my yet-to-be-shrinking waistline). My mealtime planning consists of "hmmm...what is in the freezer that I could mix together in just a few minutes?" My favorite recipes are those that are labeled "quick and easy" or "mealtime in minutes" or "how to serve a delectable dinner with the leftovers in your fridge" or something along those lines. The smells coming from my kitchen are usually the evidences of my most recent cooking disaster. When my kids are sleeping, I'm usually...oh wait,my kids never sleep. Well, at least not at the same time.

But every so often, I forget this about myself. I forget that I have no business buying things like springform pans (to make light and fluffy cheesecakes). I forget that adding a "pinch of this" and a "dash of that" is for experienced chefs only and can be hazardous to a meal. Last Saturday was one of those forgetful days.

Spurred on by the fact that Emma loves bagels - and so sweetly asks "Gabelck...wheeeeeeze!" almost every morning (she got used to a breakfast of bagels in the States - and the supporting fact that josh also loves bagels and the final fact that Rachel so casually mentioned one day how she whipped up a batch of bagels like it was something she could do in her sleep, I began my first foray into bagelmaking.

Disaster upon disaster.

I guess I never realized all the trouble that Sara Lee and those dudes at Panera go through to get me that perfect chocolate-chip bagel. Yeah, it's a lot of work. Trust me.

The memory is hazy for me now (I tend to block out bad memories) but it had something to do with mixing some stuff together, letting it rise, mixing it again with some other stuff, rolling, shaping, boiling it (who knew bagels were boiled?) and baking...or something like that. Anyway, I cannot describe to you exactly what went wrong, but what came out of my oven that day were not bagels. I think I shall not try again.

So the reason I post this tonight is because I was on the verge of having another forgetful day. Zucchini Quiche was on the menu for tonight - but instead of being scared away, my friends at quick-and-easy meals said it was a cinch. Hmmmmm.

One problem with the recipe, however, is that it called for 2 cups of cottage cheese. Actually, I hate cottage cheese, but I think I like quiche (or at least I like the idea of quiche; it just sounds so parisian and chic) so I was willing to make an exception. BUT, you cannot get cottage cheese where I live.

Enter the vegetarians. Some very helpful and enthusiastic vegetarians online said that tofu substituted nicely for cottage cheese. I can get tofu. Lots and lots of tofu.

I crumbled up 2 cups of tofu and added it to my other ingredients: eggs, cheese (aaah, cheese...), zucchini, flour and salt...and in the oven it went.

One hour later, I cautiously served my family the tofu-zucchini quiche. My husband made a face. Emma threw hers on the floor and asked for grapes instead. We managed to eat almost the entire thing. Then we decided we'd probably not make that dish again.

I won't forget next time.

Crowd control?

A few days ago, we went with some friends to one of our city's "touristy" attractions - a nice lake in the middle of town. It actually was a really beautiful place, with nice trees and plants and such. We, however, went against our better judgement and violated one of our cardinal rules of life in asia: never go anywhere remotely touristy on a major holiday (a rule that applies well in America, too).

We were actually joining a group of asian friends that we had never met before, so that also contributed to the confusion. As we walked around the lake, we couldn't seem to differentiate who was in our party, and who was just following us, wishing they were in our party. We finally concluded that we were the party. The persistent onlookers armed with cameras made it feel like were Brad and Angelina filming in India, rather than a family out for a nice evening. That image helped me visualize with great clarity a scene our fellowship group studied on Sunday morning.

The passage we studied was in Mark 6, where He eventually fed lots and lots of people. The background leading up to this event was that He and his disciples were headed to a "quiet place" for some rest. But huge crowds prevented Him from doing so - in fact, "running there on foot...getting there ahead of them." Yet His approach to the crowds was so convicting to me - compassion.

He felt such compassion for them. Not so much for their physical needs, but because they were sheep without a shepherd. As we finsihed our study, we began discussing our application and accountability points from the passage. (Why study the Word if your life isn't going to change as a result of your reading?) Nearly all of us settled in some way on the Compassion Issue that He so divinely illustrated for us. Life here seems to sap your compassion. A constant wearing of cultural demands gives you so few opportunities to just naturally be compassionate. But, obviously, we weren't the only ones who were bombarded with crowds, and His response shows us the right way to respond. I fumbled around during my turn because I wasn't quite sure how to verbalize my response. "Being a person of compassion" just doesn't give many concrete action steps.

Well, as it turns out, I had a chance to live out my application point the very next evening.

Samantha and I had run down to the store to buy something, and we were returning to our apartment. As the elevator doors were just about to close (with only me inside! yay - I didn't have to make small talk!) an asian family rushes up, frantically calling for me to hold the elevator. A mom, dad, a young boy and two other girls (who I'm unsure how they fit in the group) scrambled inside. I pushed my floor "10", and they pushed "9". The usual elevator banter started - wow, look at your baby, she's so cute, how old is she, what are you doing in this country, yadee yadee yadee - and I apathetically obliged.

After a brief moment of silence, the father cut in with the very obvious, "Oh, so you live on the 10th floor?"

"Mmmm," I said, mumbling the typical local response of affirmation.

"Oh," he says. "Tenth floor, which number?"

My mind started working double-time. Images of children begging for free english lessons, ladies coming by at all hours of the day with random gifts of food and other various delicacies flooded my mind. In an effort to protect my time and the secrecy of my whereabouts, I sheepishly pretended to not understand. "Yeah," I replied. "I live on the tenth floor."

Satisfied - but thinking I am one dumb foreigner - the man and his family got off the elevator, one floor below my house. As the elevator doors came together, my heart sank. The conviction was immediate.

I had done a great job of crowd control. That man and his family would never have known I was intentionally avoiding his question. He would never have thought I was rude. This crowd had been controlled.

But it came at the cost of my compassion.

Who says my time is my own? Where did I get the idea that my house should be bolted down with lock-and-key, unavailable to the many out there who truly are sheep without a shepherd. So what if I have to give a few free english lessons to build a bridge to a shepherd? so what if I have a stockpile cabinet of random gifts from asian friends? Will they not know whose I am by my love?

I walked in the door to my house and unloaded my burden to my husband, who kindly handed my keys back to me. "Go find them," he instructed.

"But I don't know which apartment in theirs! What will I say?" I protested. But I knew he was right.

I gathered up my keys and my courage, put on my shoes and walked out the door, prepared to eat the words I had so thoughtlessly offered on the elevator.

As I walked in the darkened hallway of the ninth floor, I saw that Apartments A and D were offices and were closed (as is the case with much of our building - we actually have very few neighbors because all the apartments are being used as office space). That left B and C. I crept up to apartment C and heard a TV, but none of the loud chatter that usually comes from homes with young children. I quietly walked down to apartment B. It was obvious from the decibel factor I had found the right place. I silently offered my repentant heart to the Lord and knocked on the door, swallowing every iota of pride that had ever been in my body.

"Who is it?" came a gruff yell from inside the house.

"Ummm," I stammered. "I'm the foreigner you met on the elevator a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" came back the startled reply.

"Uh, I'm a, uh, I'm a foreigner," I tried again.

The door swung open to reveal a bustling asian home. The TV was on at a level that a near-deaf man could hear, while two younger girls sat on chairs trying to carry on their conversation over the noise of the TV. The 9-year-old boy ran around the house as if chasing an imaginary rodent or something. Steam billowed from the kitchen, signaling that the leftovers were still hot if I was interested in staying for dinner.

They insistently urged me to come in, so I did and then offered my apologies. I told them that as they got off the elevator, I realized that he had asked me which apartment I lived in, not which floor I lived on. I told them that I didn't understand at first what he said (not quite true) but that now I did understand. I told them my asianese isn't very good (VERY true) so that's what caused the mix-up. I told them I was very embarrassed for not understanding, and since our building doesn't have very many residents, they were some of my only neighbors and I wanted to become friends (also true).

We spent the next few minutes chatting, telling them about my family, listening to them tell me about theirs, and just starting the road to a friendship. The conversation ended happily, with both of us offering the other a warm invitation to come visit sometime.

I left their home, feeling happy that I was able to make the situation right, but also a bit grieved that I didn't learn the lesson the first time. Thankfully, I am the recipient of a divine patience! So now after my public and private confession, I can carry on with a greater clarity on how not to do crowd control.

I know something you don't know...

Well, as I've been sitting here writing my blog, checking other blogs, reading the news and various other computer-related tasks, I have been enjoying the happy laughs of Samantha in the background. She was laying on her bear play-gym, cheerfully batting the dangling bears back and forth - which caused great squeals of delight. This went on for about 30 minutes, until I finally looked up from my work and went to go give her a hug (for providing me with such happy accompaniment!) As I reached down, I realized something.

Yes, her squeals were happy squeals, but it appears there was a hint of "I-know-something-you-don't-know" squeal in there too. Her diaper was oozing yellow baby-poop. It's true. Poop, poop everywhere. No wonder she was so happy.

And this comes at a very opportune time. Our high-falutin' washer/dryer combo is broken. The people came out to look at it this morning (after three days of no wash abilities already) and declared that we needed a new one. Apparently, there was a water leak right on the computer chip that runs the whole thing. I was a little alarmed when I heard that and realized we could have easily had an electrical fire in here! But, more importantly now, that means Samantha's bear playgym and the clothes she was wearing while committing her stealthy act will have to wait three more days to be washed. Yuck.

Unsolved Mysteries...Explained!

Well, I do apologize for not updating my blog as quickly as I had originally promised. Things just seem to stay in a general state of craziness here, but the last couple of days we have been blessed by a visit from our friend Kim, from where we used to live. We've enjoyed hanging out with her as she finishes up her time here and is about to head back.

Apologies aside now, this sunday afternoon everyone at my house is sleeping (josh on the couch, mantha on our bed, emma in her bed, kim in the guest room) and I alone am awake to hold the fort. Not that this fort needs holding or anything...but oh well.

So - the other day, we all decided to go out as a family and get some things done. first, we dolled emma up in her cute outfit and her fashionable sunglasses so she could dazzle all her admirers while still being protected from harmful UV rays. The first photo was taken in the lobby of our apartment building.

We procedeed to walk down the street to our local post office where emma was helping her daddy glue the stamps on a few birthday greetings we were sending out. (If your birthday is this month, your greeting might be a little late!) In this country, they do not yet utilize self-adhesive technology, so a little old-fashioned glue is needed. Emma really likes sitting up on the counter of the post office and "helping" us glue on the stamps and handing the letters to the mail lady.

Our next stop was Pizza Hut, where samantha was scheduled for her next feeding. Unfortuantely, the holiday bustling environment of pizza hut was a less-than-ideal environment for her to partake of her noontime meal, so she decided instead to scream the whole time. After a few minutes of coaxing, she was conviced that her pacifier was a good thing, and finally zonked out in my arms. Hence, an opportunity for a family pic.

Walking home from Pizza Hut, I made the jump. Since we just happened to be passing my "american-coke-store" I decided I might as well go ahead and buy my huge 32 pack. I had never even seen a 32-pack of coke in the States. Oh well. That is irrelevant to me. I rushed home with my treasure, eager to find my a new home for the cans in my kitchen.

Shortly after arriving home, our doorbell rings. You might be wondering who it was. well, our landlord has been mysteriously absent from my blogs of late - it's not because she has quit coming by, but merely because she has been out of town, celebrating the holiday. Like any good friend, as soon as her car pulled up in the driveway and her belongings were unlaoded, she wanted to stop by. (don't you do that with your good friends?!) But, since it is impossible for her to come by empty-handed, she came by with a fresh starfish (his insides had just been eaten the day before...) and two random little statues made of seashells. Yes, just what I always wanted. Seashell statues. And a starfish. That still smells like fish. Perfect.

After Ms. Landlady left and emma woke up from her nap, we walked around and around the city. First to look at some clothes for josh, then to price and look at some pianos (we are considering buying one), and then on to eat where emma was endlessly entertained by the chopsticks.

And finally, we arrived back home after a long and tiring but very enjoyable day. Emma was tucked into her nice soft sheets and was more than willing to smile for several pictures. Its days like these that make you forget your children are naughty!

the day in pictures

So I usually spend a good chunk of space telling you about all the things we did (or did not...) get accomplished on any given day. But, today I think I'll change things up a bit. Remember, Josh is out of school for this week, so we've been able to do lots of stuff as a family. Today I'm going to post pictures from all the things we did today, so you can imagine the day as it happened.

tomorrow, I'll fill in any gaps you might have missed with your imagination!

pictures, continued

Field Chicken--aka Frog

Yes, I, PapaEggroll, am again being allowed to guest host the recent Blog worthy news. It is a privilege and an honor to be able to write to all of our good friends and family.

So, we were recently asked to go on an outing with our landlord one Saturday. Although knowing that "outings" could be full of unexpected events, we agreed anyway and set off for some adventure. We drove for about two hours to the destination, but because our landlord's son, who is about 2.5 years old, was sitting, or should I say standing, in the front seat and refused to put on his seatbelt, our landlord drove about 40 kilometers per hour. To most Americans, we have no idea what that translates into, but if you'll closely on the dash board in the speedometer it is roughly equivalent to 25 miler per hour, yes for TWO hours; that is the reason it took two hours. Two hours could have got me half way to Outback (at 70mph), but I digress. Emma, by the way, was in one of the sweetest, most patient moods she has ever been in, so we were thankful to Him for that blessing this fine ‘adventureful’ day. So instead of being half way to Outback, we were completely in Nowheresville. The weather was super that day, the sky was a clear blue like I hadn't seen it since being back in the States, and what, what was that I didn't hear...traffic, no noise, no noise at all. It's hard to imagine 'quiet' when you live in noise all the time, and it was sure nice.

The original plan: go fishing. In the end: it wasn't a good time to fish b/c of construction of new houses. So what did we end up doing? Eating. Finally, we arrived a restaurant set in some rolling hills with a nice river flowing beside it. There were even small boats one could rent if one desired to row back and forth. The food was good and cheap. Our landlord order a lot, too much in fact, enough for at least ten people to eat and get really full, but there were just three adults and two kids, three including 'Mantha but she wasn't eating rice this day.

As we looked at the menu prior to ordering, our landlord says, "oh let's order 'field chicken' because you can't get it in the city." "Okay," I said thinking that 'field chicken' meant sparrow or some harmless bird that was caught in a trap, or maybe it did mean a real chicken but just a smaller version of it, maybe just a few weeks old. They brought out the cooked and sautéed bird, and man, I tell you, the sauce was great, the meat was skimpy, but hey, what do you expect from a sparrow, but it was finger lickin' good. Rachel even tried some, and Emma had a few bites. The setting was great, the food was great, the ride was not so good, but all in all, we had a great day enjoying Creation and speaking Asianese for most of the day.

A few weeks later we were telling this story to some friends and an Asian friend was in on the conversation (his English is great), and I said the word "field chicken" in Asianese, and he said, "Oh you had frog." I thought to myself, "Man, my Asianese isn't getting any better because I thought he just said the word 'frog.'" And then I realized, he said it in English. "Frog?" "Yes, frog," he said. Rachel and I both looked at each other and laughed. Who knew there were multiple words for frog? Not us obviously.

So, cheers to the field chicken, the Eggroll familia all had frog for the first time at the same time.

news of the girls

Tonight, both of the girls have stories...so I will tell each of them for you.

Emma: Keeping up with the Joneses
Emma's best (and only) friend, Clara, has a little Doll that accompanies her everywhere. Her dress and hair are worn from months of hugs, kisses, and who knows what else; but oh, how clara loves the doll. Each time she comes to our house, doll also comes. I think Emma can sense the love between doll and clara. I watched emma the last time clara came over - she tried to snatch doll away when clara wasn't looking. It's almost as if she's looking for a soulmate.

Yesterday was a huge holiday in this country, so we were out walking around last night. We passed this one little shop with dolls in the display window. They were certainly different than Clara's doll, but they were dolls nonetheless. I decided that all the asian parents buy their kids presents on major holidays - and we've yet to buy emma anything since we've arrived - so i thought emma deserved a doll of her own. We went into the shop, and held her up to the shelf so she have some say in the matter. She immediately pointed to a doll with brown skin and straight brown hair (the native american doll) shouted: "Dora!Dora!"

Displaying my ego-centric american attitudes, I redirected her enthusiasm toward the blond-haired, blue-eyed dolls outfitted in flowery dresses as opposed to those wearing headdresses and loincloths. We finally settled on one wearing a nice green dress with short blonde hair. We paid our $3 and finished the walk home.

Emma's doll got a warm introduction to our family; she was talked to and kissed the entire way home. Emma even perched her atop the stroller so doll could get an introduction to the area surrouding her new home. How thoughtful is my daughter...

But the best part came this evening as we were getting ready for bed. Emma lined doll up with all her favorite stuffed animals (fish, bear, puppy, caterpillar) and gave them all good night kisses. Then, she decided that doll, as the newest member of the clan, should be dressed appropriately for bed. She went to the bathroom, pulled out the dirty jammies I had just put in the hamper, and carefully tried to put them on doll. When they were finally on (in a sort of haphazard way...) she gave doll a kiss and then went to go say goodnight to daddy.



Samantha: it was the best of times, it was the worst of times
Josh is off of school for a week! Yay! A whole week of josh being around the house - to read books to the girls, to go on walks together, to play guitar, to change diapers...

We decided this morning to make the most of the holiday and we started to work on our growing list of "things to accomplish in the house". BUT, first we thought it would be fun to take emma to this little indoor playground to play. Samantha is obviously too young to play, so josh waited on the benches outside while emma and I played inside. The problem with that arrangement is that the foreign baby is stationary. As long as the baby keeps moving, the gawkers can't gawk for too long. Oh...but as soon as the movement stops, the crowd begins. Such began Samantha's day of overstimulation.

After the playground, we had lunch at a nice Western-style place. Our plan was for me and mantha to leave from there and go look at some furniture items we needed, while josh took emma home for her nap. I thought it would be prudent for me to feed samantha before leaving the restaurant so I could maximize my time shopping. For some reason, samantha just bucked up against me and wouldn't eat. Oh well, I thought. I'll just try again later.

An hour later, after walking through sweltering hot and noisy shops, Samantha was in no more of a mood to eat than before. Surely when we get home, she will want to eat. We finished our errands two hours later and headed home. By this time, Samantha should have already eaten one good meal and was due for another as soon as we got home.

We walk in the door, hot and exhausted from our outing. As I sit down to feed Samantha, she continued stiffening up and crying instead of eating. Josh and I conferred over what to do and we decided to let her cry for a moment on the bed to release some of the tension that might have built up as a result of our LONG day outside.

Boy, we didn't know Samantha could cry like that. She cried, inconsolably, for a long time. (or at least it felt like a long time to a mom!) These were no ordinary tears. They were distressed, agitated, "I'm-all-worked-up-and-just-don't-know-what-to-do-about-it" tears.

After a while, she DID calm down and eat, but it was certainly Samantha's worst of times!

But later that evening, I was giving Samantha a bath as emma looked curiously on. As emma narrated the event - "Mantha! Bath! Mantha! Bath! Splash! Mantha!" - Samantha's mood dramatically changed. Each time emma opened her mouth to say something, Samantha giggled! Those long, loud giggles we've been trying to replicate since the first time! It was like the Seinfeld episode where George tries to convince Jerry that he can't not be funny. Everything Emma did was funny. Everything I did was funny. Every splash, every word, every twinkle in the eye was cause for Samantha to open up and laugh. What a great ending to the day!

* for the vain only *

I've got a dilemma ahead of me.

I stepped on the scale a few days ago at Rachel's house. (I'm still too afraid to buy a permanent one for my house!) While the dial swung indecisively back and forth, I tried to ignore those pestering thoughts of how many cokes I drank last week - or worse yet, how many peices of pie I ate the night before!

When the final numbers were in, I wasn't sure how to react. Sure, I had gained A LOT of weight when I was pregnant with Samantha. And sure, I've lost a lot of it since relocating to my new asian home - in fact, I've lost about 13 pounds. But, that still leaves me about 20 pounds short of where I should be for a "healthy" woman my age. (By the way, what does "healthy" mean anyway? If it means a life devoid of carbonation, caffeine, and sugar how can that be healthy? Fine, physically healthy, maybe. But emotionally healthy? You may live longer, but you miss out on melt-in-your-mouth chocolate, fizz-in-your-face coke, and yummy cheese dip. Count me out!)

The problem is that I have a beach date in February. We've rented this really nice villa to stay in for a week in Thailand, so I feel that my quest to lose Samantha's leftovers deserves a bit more effort on my part. I'm still just trying to decide how much effort.

Rachel says you can do anything for 15 minutes a day. Alicia has still managed to be faithfully attending her gym. My mother, of course, never needs to lose any weight. (Who says you will look like your mother when you get older??)

I kept telling myself, "after josh's birthday..." I certainly didn't want to start before, as that would have caused me to ration more carefully my portions of hello dollies, mexican food, and german chocolate cake (see previous posts). No, we can't have any rationing going on in this family. So, I had resolved to "do better" (again, what does "do better" really mean?) after the birthday celebrations were over.

THEN...the manager at the store where we found the imported Coke tells me that if I buy a 32-pack of coke, he'll give me a 10% discount. Granted, the discount only comes to a few dollars, but in this country, the willingness to give a discount is seen as a sign that the other party is weakened, and willing to give in. According to local thought, this is a situation that should not be passed up.

But still, that's paying over US$30 for a 32 pack of Coke. I keep going back and forth. Thirty-two dollars seems a bit excessive for Coke. Thirty two cans seems a bit much to have at my immediate disposal. But a good coke can solve wonders for a tough day. (Even now, I'm sitting here mentally figuring that's 32 nice hot baths with a coke and a frosty mug...or 16 hot baths and 16 mexican dinners...or 16 hot baths and 8 mexican dinners and 8 pizza nights...or...)

On the other hand, I could still continue my current pace of gastrointestinal consumption and just up my physical activity. I could get up earlier and walk around the block (like Rachel...) or I could go work out during emma's naptime (like Alicia...) or I could just forget both of those and buy some "As seen on TV" weight zapper that miraculously zaps away extra fat, requiring me to neither cut back my calorie intake or make sacrifices in the exercise category. I wonder if they ship internationally...

But seriously, sacrifice is good for the soul, right? Maybe I can walk the mile or two to the special Coke store when I want a coke - then, I am still allowed to indulge but I have made at least some effort at physical fitness. Or maybe I will forbid myself from making cakes, pies, and gluttonous meals. I did make some super-tasty carrot-raisin muffins the other day (and they called for a cup and a half of carrots. that's healthy!) so they can stay.

Or maybe I should just take little steps. Twenty pounds in four months. Surely I can do that without being TOO healthy, right...?

I am thankful for...

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.

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!

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.

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.

and mantha too...

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!

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....

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!"

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!

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!

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...

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!

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!

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.

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...

new pics

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.

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.

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. :)

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.

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! :)