A conversation with Tommy

When I was home this summer, a friend and I had a conversation about rabies (specifically, a podcast she listened to about rabies) and it prompted me to have this conversation with my explorer child.  I'm not sure he really got the message.

Me:  If you ever touch a bat, you should tell me. Even if you just come close to a bat.

T:  What if it was a cast of bat bones?

Me:  That would be okay.

T:  What if it was a robot?

Me:  That would be okay too. I'm concerned about bats that are alive.

T:  What if the robot could do anything you wanted?

So have I mentioned that I joined a choir?

I haven't been in a choir since I was 22 years old which means that my voice sounds truly horrible and feels awkward and also that I write things in my music like "SLOW" instead of "RIT".  I have completely forgotten everything I knew about music and when I'm trying to figure out the note that the basses are signing I find myself thinking back to "Good Boys Do Fine Always" and then counting up or down from the note I can identify.  It is HORRIFYING.  

But also, as of my fifth rehearsal last night, it is fun.  So I shall continue to make an ass of myself in the name of fun and a bit of spiritual fulfillment (these moments are few and far between as we are still learning notes and the choir has few moments of sounding nice).  

My choir is full of Brits as one would expect.  That is a country of choristers if ever there was one.  And yet I manage to seem like the biggest choir geek of all of them.  The root of my Muscat Singers geekdom occurred on the third rehearsal, when we were given one of my favorite John Rutter pieces to sing and I started gabbing on about having gone to see him two years in a row, blah blah.  Then, I told the woman standing beside me who has a middle school aged daughter that there is nothing cool at all about choir and so its probably best to get your kids involved in choir sooner rather than later.  (Though, I did try smoking a cigarette on choir tour in London when I was 16.  It made me SO ILL.)

Last night I made a friend at choir (the breaks have been a bit lonely until this most recent rehearsal).  She's mostly my friend because we were standing next to each other and she made the same mistake three times in a row and so we laughed.  (Definitely a 'laughing with' situation rather than a 'laughing at' situation.)  She had glitter eye make up on and referred to her boyfriend as her partner. (Have I mentioned how every person on that island (a big one, but still) calls their significant other - no matter if they are married - their 'partner'? It's accurate but still somehow confusing.)  Anyway, she's an English teacher and she might leave Muscat after this academic year anyway, and that, my friends, is why the expat life is tough.  (Have I mentioned that Leigh is leaving over the summer?  And also Kathy, probably?)

I think choir felt especially therapeutic last night because over the weekend, the father of a family at school passed away (I have heard from a sudden heart attack).  His middle daughter was in Lizzie's class, his eldest is in Tommy's grade and he also had a toddler.  The news has made me feel sick (but not too sick to devour the oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I stupidly made on Saturday) and has also had the very unexpected consequence of causing me to be meaner than normal to my own (very nice) husband.  Luckily, he has been accepting my apologies and I have been mature enough to understand that I am at fault.  (The worst part of being married to a lawyer, I think, is the tendency a lawyer has to focus on the best arguments available to them, rather than admitting culpability.)  

Remember in Garden State, when Natalie Portman's character talks about being "in it"?  That really resonated with me (as did most of Natalie Portman's character, other than the seizures) and so I shall conclude this post by explaining that I am "in it" and planning to come out soon.  I have lots of things to distract me, not the least of which is Lizzie's declaration that she wants to be a bunny, NOT a river dolphin (but she IS being a river dolphin as we had to empty her college fund to pay for that costume) and the fact that I have 30 cocktail sausages to cut into fingers for Lizzie's Halloween party.  (I went to four stores and read the ingredients of every package of hot dogs in Muscat and finally threw these into my cart; I am so grossed out but this is my assignment and I want an A.)

Photos in the next post -- more of the Andersons' visit!

And, to leave you with some humor, this is what my boy said to me yesterday:

"If you were a dinosaur, what place would you eat first? I'd eat Dunkin Donuts."  (To which I replied, "Have you ever been to Dunkin Donuts??")

From the mouths of babes

Tommy, to me, last night as he was getting in the bath (and had just looked at my eyelash curler):

"Can you at least make yourself look like a real woman? Put on lipstick, curl your eyelashes, do a hairdo and put on a pretty dress!"

Lulu, to me last night as she was getting out of the bath:

"Mommy, I adore you!"  (Then kissed me all over my face.)

At the pool

We spend lots of time at Grace's pool. (Not always in matching swimsuits, but sometimes.)

The Andersons' Visit, part 1 - Desert Nights Camp!

Tommy & Lizzie had some best pals in London, with whom they spent lots of time because our nanny was roommates with Harry & Amelia's nanny.  Imagine how exciting it was that our first Oman visitors were Harry & Amelia and their parents, Brad & Evie!  We had a lovely time with them -- we spent a day at the beach, a day touring Muscat (as well as possible with four smallish children) and then we went to a desert camp.  The desert camp was absolutely amazing and is now on the 'must do' list with other visitors.  Perhaps these photos will entice more of you to come.  On our way back to Muscat from the desert, we went to Wadi Shab again (photos coming soon)...

The camp parking lot.

Up on the dune, watching the sunset.

The Camp

It was windy and she had sand in her eyes...But look behind us.

It is still mentioned among members of my family that we saw a dung beetle actually pushing dung.  One or two of us might even call it a highlight of the trip.

This is as we were getting seated for dinner.  What I like about this photo is that you can tell that every child is in motion.

Eid Al Adha

So I have recently done some Googling to understand why there are two Eids (Eid Al Fitr at the end of Ramadan; and Eid Al Adha which is now).  Eid Al Adha is, according to Wikipedia, the festival of sacrifice.  It celebrates the time that Ibrahim (Abraham) agreed to sacrifice his son Ishmael when Allah demanded it, and then at the last minute Allah told him to sacrifice a sheep (ram? lamb? not sure which) instead.

So the day after I did my Googling and learned what Eid Al Adha celebrates, I saw a very interesting article on the front page of our newspaper explaining that the price of Australian sheep had been fixed by the government at 90 OR (about $250) and the price of a Somali sheep had been fixed at 40 OR (about $100).  And then I got to worrying about where all the sacrificing takes place because when I was in the fourth grade I visited a friend near Yakima (Washington) and I saw a cow being butchered in the middle of a field.  That experience really stuck with me, city girl that I am (if Seattle in the 70s can be called a city), and not in a great way.

Rest assured, readers, that all the killing takes place in slaughter houses.  Thanks to my ever-informed friend Kathy, I now know the location of two slaughter houses (not that I need to go to one) and also that the price of the slaughtering is fixed by the government.

According to Wikipedia, traditionally the person who bought the animal keeps one-third of the meat, gives one-third to friends and family and gives the last third to the needy.

So this also explains why Kathy told me in an email before we moved here that it's impossible to buy a used deep freezer.  (All our houses come with those half-size ones that really only have enough space for ice cube trays.)  So much meat!

The Cronut Comes to Muscat (and, therefore, to my house)

Two weeks ago, we had Leigh and Peter and Grace over for dinner and as I was considering dessert, I remembered the flier we'd had on our front step about a French bakery that was now baking cronuts.

What's a cronut?  If you don't know, you haven't been been reading the Mormon blogs lately and are missing out on all kinds of interesting stuff.  A cronut is a marriage between a donut and a croissant.  I am not so much a donut person but I do enjoy croissant (especially almond ones).  So I went to the French bakery and bought six cronuts.  (That is a lot as they are quite big.)  You can see four different varieties in the photo below: plain, chocolate, caramel (the best one) and coffee (the worst).  

Peter & Leigh!

Eli and me (note that my hair is impressively dirty)

Tell us how you really feel, Lulu

Two Fridays ago we drove about an hour to a hotel south of our house to have lunch.  We played on the beach afterward and Princess had to take her dress off because it was wet.  Which is why she is naked in these photos.  (I promise to wash the cover some day soon.)

Anyway.  Guess what her horrible parents wouldn't let her do?  Watch movies on the iPad.  Can you believe us?  (She passed out shortly after this fit.)

Baby Dillie

Guess what Lulu calls her cousin?

But more importantly, guess who has been around for three entire months?  It's this guy!

And what I love about this photo is that he's not totally sure how he feels about it.

My Day, and a Promise (this post is sort of boring)

** This happened on Saturday but as I was typing I fell asleep, so I'm posting it today. **

I woke up early this morning, so that I could get in a work out before my children’s events started.  You see, we had two swimming lessons and two birthday parties to attend.  This meant that we needed to be in various parts of Muscat at 9:35 (the swimming lessons, which were at the same time but still required double organization), noon (the first birthday party) and four (the second birthday party).

After my workout, I messed around with the computer for a bit to see if the planets were aligned so that I could Facetime with my parents (they were not), and then dashed off for a shower.  I checked the kids and made sure they were breathing through the TV trance, and quickly chopped veggies for their lunches for the next couple of days.  Then, I gave them some apple.  All of a sudden, I realized we were going to be late and began frantically blow-drying my hair, collecting swimsuits and goggles and my book and water, extracted screaming children from the television and then strapped everybody in the car.  We drove to school and were barely on time.  I got my book out. 

I love swimming because it’s 30 minutes of absolute peace (and I really want to finish my book!), or ought to be.  But today I ended up chatting with other moms.  I do love chatting but today I would’ve loved reading more.

I retrieved the kids (Lulu’s teacher said she’s very impressed) and semi-showered them off (this is important later).  We got back into the car and drove the 30 minutes home – all the while knowing we would have only 45 minutes at home.  I turned on the last 11 minutes of 101 Dalmatians and continued lunch preparation in the kitchen.  (It would be impossible for me to express how much I hate packing lunches.)  I remembered I hadn’t wrapped the birthday gifts yet.  Wrapped them.  Debated having Tommy write the cards and then decided to just do it myself.  I packed everything Lulu needed for a stint at Eli’s office including a dinner (I knew the second birthday party wouldn’t be pretty if she came) and then guess what I did? I strapped everybody back in the car again.  We drove to the first party.  It was at a pizza restaurant and was a perfectly nice party but for three things:

First, the kids didn’t get lunch until two o’clock.  Tommy loudly announced that he could eat a blue whale, he was so hungry.  The almonds normally in my bag had been eaten and not replaced. 

Second, Lulu felt hot and had a red face and I got worried she was sick again.  (She’s fine, but I think her face was red because her bad mother didn’t get the chlorine off her well and then didn’t have enough time to bathe her at home.)

Third, and this was really the rough part for me, each child was served PEPSI with their lunch.  My kids thought it was fantastic.  (And then acted like little jerks, but I’m sure that had nothing to do with the large doses of sugar and caffeine they’d just ingested.)

We left that party at 2:30 and headed to Eli’s office.  I tried to call him but my phone thought that I had headphones in even though I didn’t.  Once I figured out he could hear me even though I couldn’t hear him, I just talked and realized I sort of liked it that way.  (Not really but sort of.)

So then I drove right onto the enormous construction site and went the wrong way. I spoke to a bunch of men who don’t actually speak English and are certainly not used to a lady with a car full of kids being on the job site and took about 20 minutes to find a place that takes about 45 seconds to reach from the gate.  It was so amazing.  Lulu kept asking if we were lost and I was like, “yes we totally are lost” and she would say, “oh, no! Are we lost?”  Etc.

When we finally found the office, I got the kids out, unstrapped Lulu’s car seat (because Eli was bringing her home with him) and commenced wandering around the cluster of trailers that is Eli’s office.  Found his door and of course interrupted not one but two meetings, “oh hi there, guys, just here with my kids and a car seat the size of a German Shepard, were you trying to work?”  I spent a little time complaining about Eli’s directions to the office and then departed with Tommy.

We got in the car, and drove to the next party.  The next party was in a place called Happyland and the thing about that name is that it’s absolutely true.  Happyland makes children incredibly happy.  It has video games and rides and loud music and lots of flashing lights.  But for adults, I think it’s a bit like being inside a migraine.  It is spectacularly unhappy.  It is impossible to have conversations even though I met a lot of interesting parents there and very much liked the birthday boy’s family.  But try getting tips on visiting Beirut from a Lebanese mother when you’re inside a migraine.  It’s not possible.   (But as I said, kids love it and that’s of course the point of a child’s birthday party.)

Anyway, by the end I was exhausted and I am pretty sure my feet are swollen. 

Are you ready for the promise?  NO MORE THAN ONE BIRTHDAY PARTY PER DAY.  BAM.

We have a Ninja in our house

Some people have pest problems, but we have ancient Japanese spy problems.  Behold:


(The very cutest part of this is that he thinks that he is not identifiable and so he has requested multiple times that I not tell Daddy who it is in the movie. Sorry, guys, but I can't get it uploaded.)

And now for some happy news! (with more photos!)

Guess what?  Brett and Chinka have a new daughter!  Here she is:


Her name is Ranesa (ra-nay-sah) and she will turn three on Lulu's birthday!  Isn't that neat?  They have been trying for some time to adopt from India and now tiny Ranesa has made their dreams come true.  We are all very excited (Lulu perhaps most because I suggested that someday they could have a birthday party together and that there would be two cakes) and cannot wait to meet her!  They cannot take her back to the US yet, so we might get a chance to meet her in Delhi.  Which would totally making living in Muscat worth it, you know?