Lately

Somehow, it's difficult to believe that we have been back to school for 4 1/2 weeks - and next week is already fall break.  It's Eid Al-Adha and Omanis are off for an entire week, which means school would have been closed anyway.  So it makes sense even though it's early.  ANYWAY, it's crazy that we're so deep into the school year and I have yet to feel like there is a routine.  Everyday I wake up and check the calendar and wonder what I might be forgetting.  Because I'm smart, I am desperately trying to sign Lizzie up for a gymnastics class on top of everything else.

Happy last day of September and here are some photos!

Because Eid is upon us, this is a somewhat common sight.  It is really hot outside and I can't help but feel horribly for these poor guys.

We joined a hotel pool and have enjoyed it three Fridays in a row.  It's especially fun because we all just have to relax and hang out -- nobody can run home and do jobs or start getting lunch ready.  The kids really like it.

Having ice cream at school before soccer with (very cute) friends.  Her first soccer lesson was pretty amazing;
during the second I caught her leaning on the goal and sucking her thumb.  Let's see shall we?
The three ice creams in the middle are for older siblings, lest anyone worry I had lost my mind.

Lizzie had a birthday party at Build-A-Bear (see below), so Tommy and I got a hot chocolate and I read HP7 to him for an hour.

Enthusiastically dancing at the birthday party.

With Grace at the party.  She really loves Grace.

Letting it go

This week, I'm a little bit blue to be in Muscat - for all kinds of reasons but none so compelling as the email I received from the Royal Albert Hall advertising a Frozen sing-a-long.

You guys.  This is not about me.  It is about my daughter and she would just love to attend an event like this, my daughter who made up and sang a song on the spot for her preschool class on the day she was the Leader.

Last week, I drove three little girls to a playdate and we listened to and sang along with "Let it Go" about four times (thank God we weren't going too far).  They all sound like they are doing irreparable damage to their vocal cords but my goodness they just love it SO MUCH.

Anyway.

On the bright side, today I managed to get very lost and subsequently found!

On copying

Last Wednesday night, the kids and I were sitting at the dinner table, discussing the best and worst parts of our day.  (I copied this idea from my clever sister-in-law who calls it with her own girls the rose of the day and the thorn of the day.)  We were onto the thorns, when Tommy said, "well, mine wasn't such a pointy thorn.  It was sort of a flatish thorn, because it was math and it was so hard, but then, Mommy, M (a classmate) let me copy from him!  So I got them all right!"

I asked if he understood the answers and he faux regretfully told me that he did not.  So I told him that copying isn't a great way to actually learn things and then after he went to bed I emailed his teacher.  She replied quickly, saying she hadn't realized that there was copying going on, but she promised to have a conversation with the class.  It wasn't such a big deal, and I didn't think to mention it to Tommy again.  (This is mostly because I was focused on the "hard minus-es" that were causing Tommy so much angst and I'm pleased to say that I think we have pushed through.)

Fastforward to last night, when I thought to ask Tommy about copying and he said in a delighted tone, "Well, Mommy, now people have to copy from me!"  When I asked for more details, he said, "I'm not bad at math anymore -- but R says he is horrible, and so he copies all my answers."

Homework

I think we have blogged about this before, but you guys, I completely lose my business when it comes to homework.

And here's the crazy thing I realized last night:  Tommy rewards me for it.

So.  Tommy has long school days, but still has to read for 15 minutes each night and then fill out a reading log, and do one sheet of homework each evening.  His teacher explained that it should be no more than 25 minutes.  (She also said to email her if homework becomes a big deal, e.g., your kid is crying and you are shaking because you are so angry; I have far too much pride to email her BUT MOSTLY I don't want Tommy to get out of homework.)  I do not think this amount of homework is unreasonable and the truth is that he will have much more homework as he gets older and it makes sense to start establishing a habit of doing homework.  This is my opinion; we can safely assume that Tommy does not share this opinion with me.

Anyway.  Last Tuesday, he stuck a wad of toilet paper down his ear, necessitating a visit to the ENT.  On that evening, I was so angry about the paper down the ear (because remember we had already visited this ENT to have him remove a Lego) that I was mean and horrible to him, and he did all his homework beautifully with an eye toward getting me to read Harry Potter to him before bed despite my rage.  (Sometimes I am a horrible mother, and this evening was one of those times, but I did read Harry Potter and I think that goes a tiny bit of the way toward making up for the horribleness.)

Fast forward to last night:  picture me, in the kitchen cooking, and Tommy sitting at the table complaining that he never gets any free time and he is lousy (where did he even learn this word?) at math and he hates writing.  My friends, I lost it completely.  Partially this is because I read all those damn articles about parenting and grit and self-control and success and when Tommy acts like a normal seven year old sometimes it freaks me out.

(I will interrupt my story and say that my husband made me feel better this morning when he said, "I remember when I was a little boy and I was refusing to do my homework and my parents were so frustrated that my dad spanked me.  And see? I turned out alright."  Query whether the comfort from Eli's story is that he is successful (whatever that means) or that Tommy's doting Grandparents were once short-tempered parents themselves.)

Anyway, I yelled and he cried and ultimately, he did a nice job on his homework.  Because of my yelling.  You can be absolutely certain that he would not have done nearly so well if I hadn't yelled.  And this is how he rewards me.  I lose my temper; he does a good job.

Obviously, this is not sustainable for many reasons but mostly because I hate being mean to my children.  And, last night, my perspective still altered by my aggravation, I told Eli that "I refuse to reward Tommy when he does a good job on his homework!  We are going to take away his Lego, or another privilege when he won't sit down for ten minutes and do his math!"

But after some time to think it over, I think we will reinstitute the marble jar (thus rewarding him for being a responsible big boy).  And perhaps I will do a little bit of focused breathing before suggesting that we start in on the homework...

Want to see something cute?

Behold, Lib's little Amelia ("mini-Lib") with T & L.

Amelia couldn't make it up the tree.

Reaclimating

Last Saturday evening, our internet suddenly stopped working.  So the next day, Lizzie and I walked over to Omantel to ask them to fix it.  The woman helping me confirmed that the account was still active (there was a tiny worry on my part that I had transposed the account number when paying the bill and had actually paid someone else's internet for three months) and said she would send someone over to our house.

I did not return on Monday to Omantel, still hopeful that a little tech guy would show up magically (or in a car) at our door.  Tuesday I went back and the same woman said someone would come.  I asked her whether I would be credited for the days I had paid for a service which had not been provided, and she said no.  Wednesday, no one had called me to arrange an appointment or in any other way indicated that our complaint had been registered.  I went in before the lunch break and met with a different woman, who - in a sign of progress, as far as I was concerned - called a technician who promised to come a three o'clock.  But he didn't come.  So, I called Eli and told him that he had to stop at Omantel on the way home.  He stopped there, talked to a guy, came home, called a phone number and got someone on Omantel's end to reset something, and we had internet.

And while I tried to focus on my feeling of relief and gratitude that we have internet now, I cannot help but be enraged that it took Eli going there for the problem to be resolved.  Why didn't they tell me to call the phone number and get it reset???  We are in the unfortunate situation of being in a country where women have a much harder time getting things accomplished than men do, and Eli works most of the time that he is awake.  So I have to try to take care of things on my own.  Sometimes I am ridiculously unsuccessful, and of course the times I am successful I don't think I really notice because I'm used to being able to take care of my life.

In other news, the kids' AC unit has been working since yesterday morning and I am profoundly grateful for this.

Seattle

This photo is on Eli's last day in Seattle - a few hours before we dropped him off at the airport and he climbed into his business class seat and relaxed for 14 hours.  (I am not bitter that he flies business class usually, but I am envious.  I am sure you understand the difference.  And for the record:  if we could fly business class or get cash for the difference in price between business and economy, I would totally take the money.  My children and I are not big people; we are fine in economy.  For now.)

Anyway, the story I want to tell is that when I look at a photo like this that is such an obviously SEATTLE photo, it is with such mixed emotion.  I still love telling people that I am from Seattle, and I still love going there so much and think it's such a nice place (with so many delicious eating options!) that I feel sad (guilty?) that my children aren't from Seattle.  Because they aren't, you know.  They weren't born there and they have never lived there.

Can you see that the life of an expat is somewhat tortured? Especially when one is prone to over-analyzing everything?

This photo is also hard for me to look at because of my face shape and squinting and hair, but the primary emotion is that one about how there are no 'do-overs' in life.  Poor little Tommy and Lizzie will never be from Seattle.

And now I'm signing off to make a list of all the things I'm grateful for in my life (probably just a mental list to be honest), and at the very tippy top of the list is ELI WALTER to whom I have been married NINE years tomorrow.