To everyone, a good night. I hope your Christmas was as joy filled and happy as mine was. This is going to be short tonight as I am supposed to be packing for our trip tomorrow. We leave in less than 6 hours and I have not even started packing myself (though MadHatter and Stinkerbell are both finished, so I have accomplished something). I just had too much to do today and too much fun doing it, to tear myself away with such a mundane task as packing. But now Christmas is over - almost officially - until next year and I am focused on our 5 day trip to Patagonia. Very excited. So, off I go to finish packing before I get even less sleep! See you all in the new year...
Monday, December 26, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Yackity yak...
This is what it sounds like in my house when I decide to take a shower. Every, single, time...(and keep in mind, Stinkerbell is standing right outside the shower, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, looking at me through the glass door)...
Mom, are you naked? Naked, Mama? Are you naked? Are you going to shower? Will you get wet, Mama? Mama, are you wet yet? Did you get in? Are you in the shower Mama? Mom, are you in the shower, naked? Are you wet? Are you really wet? Mom, did you wash your hair? Are you peeing Mama? Why is there water like you are peeing? Did you pee in the shower Mama? That is bad. You shouldn't pee in the shower, Mama (btw - it's just water - she always thinks you are peeing. She thinks she is peeing when it happens to her too). Mama, I go play iPad. I'm playing iPad Mama. Good Job, Stinkerbell. Mama, it told me Good Job. I finished my puzzle Mama. Do you want to see my puzzle. Cows go Moooooo. My puzzle is a cow and cows go Mooooo. That's funny Mama. Isn't that funny. Are you done yet? Ok, I will play my puzzle. Oink. Oink. Oink. Are you done now? Done with your shower, Mama? Are you finished? When will you be done? Now? Are you done now?
And then, peacefully, there are about 20 seconds of silence while she thinks about whether she has to pee or if she is hungry, or if she just wants to play another game on the iPad...And then she is back.
Are you done yet Mama? (Covering her eyes) Peek-a-Boo...I scare you? No? I do it again...Peek-a-Boo. This time I scare you? Ok, I will go play my game. Why are you not smiling Mama? Showers are a happy things. Getting clean is fun. You're not having fun? Why Mama? Why you not having fun? You should be having fun. I have fun in the shower. I play with cups and drink lots of water. You can play with my cup Mama. It is the purple one. No touch the pink one. That is MadHatters. She gets mad when we touch her cup. No touch Mom. Ok? Is that soap Mama? The bubbles, are they soap? Did you wash your hair? Is that why there are so many bubbles? Mama, you washed your hair. Is it clean? Now, you done, right? Your hair is washed, so now you are done. Mama, can you hear me? Can you hear me Mama? You are not talking to me. Why are you not talking to me. Are you done? Did you get water in your ear? Can you hear me? Mamaaaaaaa...
I have now taken the world's fastest shower...less than 3 minutes...because I cannot stand to answer one more question that is asked of me. I am stepping out and it doesn't stop...
Mama, are you all done? You all done Mama? Are you wet? Do you need a towel? Will the towel make you dry? Are you all done? Are you ready to go Mama? Let's go Mama. I am ready to go....
Never - ever - wish for your child to talk. You will forever be wishing that they had never learned. I jest, but in the case of Stinkerbell it can be true. She has a gift for speaking...in two languages none-the-less. And she is not even 2 1/2. I can only imagine what she will be like as a teenager. But by then, I will be able to lock the bathroom door and take my shower in silent peace.
Mom, are you naked? Naked, Mama? Are you naked? Are you going to shower? Will you get wet, Mama? Mama, are you wet yet? Did you get in? Are you in the shower Mama? Mom, are you in the shower, naked? Are you wet? Are you really wet? Mom, did you wash your hair? Are you peeing Mama? Why is there water like you are peeing? Did you pee in the shower Mama? That is bad. You shouldn't pee in the shower, Mama (btw - it's just water - she always thinks you are peeing. She thinks she is peeing when it happens to her too). Mama, I go play iPad. I'm playing iPad Mama. Good Job, Stinkerbell. Mama, it told me Good Job. I finished my puzzle Mama. Do you want to see my puzzle. Cows go Moooooo. My puzzle is a cow and cows go Mooooo. That's funny Mama. Isn't that funny. Are you done yet? Ok, I will play my puzzle. Oink. Oink. Oink. Are you done now? Done with your shower, Mama? Are you finished? When will you be done? Now? Are you done now?
And then, peacefully, there are about 20 seconds of silence while she thinks about whether she has to pee or if she is hungry, or if she just wants to play another game on the iPad...And then she is back.
Are you done yet Mama? (Covering her eyes) Peek-a-Boo...I scare you? No? I do it again...Peek-a-Boo. This time I scare you? Ok, I will go play my game. Why are you not smiling Mama? Showers are a happy things. Getting clean is fun. You're not having fun? Why Mama? Why you not having fun? You should be having fun. I have fun in the shower. I play with cups and drink lots of water. You can play with my cup Mama. It is the purple one. No touch the pink one. That is MadHatters. She gets mad when we touch her cup. No touch Mom. Ok? Is that soap Mama? The bubbles, are they soap? Did you wash your hair? Is that why there are so many bubbles? Mama, you washed your hair. Is it clean? Now, you done, right? Your hair is washed, so now you are done. Mama, can you hear me? Can you hear me Mama? You are not talking to me. Why are you not talking to me. Are you done? Did you get water in your ear? Can you hear me? Mamaaaaaaa...
I have now taken the world's fastest shower...less than 3 minutes...because I cannot stand to answer one more question that is asked of me. I am stepping out and it doesn't stop...
Mama, are you all done? You all done Mama? Are you wet? Do you need a towel? Will the towel make you dry? Are you all done? Are you ready to go Mama? Let's go Mama. I am ready to go....
Never - ever - wish for your child to talk. You will forever be wishing that they had never learned. I jest, but in the case of Stinkerbell it can be true. She has a gift for speaking...in two languages none-the-less. And she is not even 2 1/2. I can only imagine what she will be like as a teenager. But by then, I will be able to lock the bathroom door and take my shower in silent peace.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Home for the Holidays
For the past month or so, everyone I talk with (expat and local alike) asks me the same question, "Are you going home for the holiday's"? On the surface it seems like such a simple question. Heck, it's a yes/no question, they don't get much simpler than that. But for me, and my family, it is a loaded question. One that isn't as black and white as yes or no. I answer by saying, "We are celebrating the holiday's here in Chile with my parents and oldest brother" and leave it at that. It answers their question but it doesn't answer the ones that are now swirling through my brain - Would travelling back to the U.S. be considered going home, even though we don't have a home there? Or is celebrating at our house here in Chile considered staying home for the holiday's? Can I really call a place that I am still working on assimilating, home? On the other hand, can I call a place I have lived in but no longer have any ties to, home? This one simple question that I have heard so many times in the past few weeks has gotten me thinking about how I define home and where that might be for me and my family.
Almost all of the expats (U.S., Peruvian, Venezuelan, Australian, Argentinian...) I have met while living in Chile are truly going home for the holiday's. They are headed to places where they have an extended family and many close friends. They are returning to childhood houses, scheduling meet ups with grade school/high school/college friends and will revisit places where memories of a lifetime will surround them. Even if they have moved many times since leaving their parents houses, most of them still have a place that they always return to, the place they consider their home base. There is no ambiguity to the word home for them. Simply saying the word conjures up a specific image for them - a house in which they spent their formative years, a city that they grew up in (even though houses may have changed), and for others it is not the place they grew up, but rather an adopted city that they have been living in for so many years they have lost count. The point is, they don't have to hesitate one millisecond when asked where their home is. They know and have always known. But it isn't that easy for me and I have never really thought about it until now.
Why now? Not that much has changed for me - well, I do live on another continent now - but even that is not new to me. I move. I move a lot. In all, I have called a total of 10 different places home in my lifetime. And that is not just houses moved, that is times I have picked up all of my belongings and carted them more than 500 miles (I don't count moves of under 250 miles to be a move - that is just changing scenery). If you do the math, that means I have moved once every 3.9 years. Count in the fact that I spent 10 years in one of those places and it means I have unpacked more boxes than some military personnel. It also brings my average time in one spot down to 3.22222 years. (Add in the houses I have moved within cities while living there and that number goes down drastically). That's a lot of moving people.
For a long time I would have told you that my home was Peoria (and I still do if I just want to get off the topic and not have to tell a very. long. story.) In fact, this is the place I spent my formative years. In essence, I grew up there. I went to grade school, I finished high school and I moved on to college just like many other people. But here is where it gets tricky. My parents were moved right as I was heading out of high school and into college. I was leaving home - and so were they - and I was never going to get the chance to go back. When I packed up to go to college, my parents were also packing to move to their next assignment. There would be no visiting with friends on Christmas break. There would be no impromptu get togethers at Easter to discuss how our new lives were going. No summers of goofing off and enjoying the freedom that is afforded you at 18, 19, 20... If I wanted to see my friends, we had to make special plans...outside of the holidays, because those were reserved for family, and mine no longer lived in the same place as theirs did. As I had moved away from home, home had moved away too.
And this was to continue. Until my dad retired. My "home base" kept shifting. My parents moved 6 times in 12 years. They moved to two different countries, and 4 different states. And each time, when someone asked me if I was going home for the holidays, the answer was always a resounding yes. No hesitation. I still associated home with my parents. I associated it with wherever my family was at the time, even if I had never set foot in the house they lived in before. That was still home, because it was were my heart and soul were. Without my parents to ground me, I was just floundering in the world, pretending that I was a grown up. I needed to touch base every once in awhile to remember who I was and where I came from. Remember, I was moving around just as much as they were and was a bit lost myself. They, and their ever moving homes, provided me with the knowledge that even though you didn't recognize the surroundings, as long as family was there, you were home.
And then I got married and had kids. Everything changed. Not only did I have a family of my own, but now I had to provide that same sense of belonging for my kids. Infants that were counting on me to make them feel safe, feel loved, feel like they were home. And it was easy for the first 3 years. We had adopted California quickly. In fact, it is the one place that felt like home the minute I set foot on land. There was no adjustment, there was no breaking in. I was just home. And by then the question had changed to, "Are you staying home for the holidays"? And I could answer, "Nope, we are headed to my parents house to celebrate". Their house was no longer home to me, but it was a gathering point. The whole family traveled to one spot, spent the holiday's and then went to their respective homes until it was time to do it again. But for the first time EVER in my life, I will be spending the Christmas holiday in the home I currently reside in. For the very first time I will not have to pack presents or have them shipped (or have someone else do it for me as I was too young), I will not have to pack a suitcase, I don't have to think that putting up the tree is a waste of time since no one will be around to enjoy it come mid-December. I will be waking up on Christmas morning surrounded by my own things, in the home I live in for the First. Time. Ever. (and I mean ever - not just since I have been an adult). I did not do this as a child since we either had to head back to the states for home leave or if we were already states side, we headed to Wisconsin where the extended family was.
So, will I be heading home for the holiday's? Nope. I am already home and I am staying put. For once in my life at least I will be in my own home for the holidays.
Almost all of the expats (U.S., Peruvian, Venezuelan, Australian, Argentinian...) I have met while living in Chile are truly going home for the holiday's. They are headed to places where they have an extended family and many close friends. They are returning to childhood houses, scheduling meet ups with grade school/high school/college friends and will revisit places where memories of a lifetime will surround them. Even if they have moved many times since leaving their parents houses, most of them still have a place that they always return to, the place they consider their home base. There is no ambiguity to the word home for them. Simply saying the word conjures up a specific image for them - a house in which they spent their formative years, a city that they grew up in (even though houses may have changed), and for others it is not the place they grew up, but rather an adopted city that they have been living in for so many years they have lost count. The point is, they don't have to hesitate one millisecond when asked where their home is. They know and have always known. But it isn't that easy for me and I have never really thought about it until now.
Why now? Not that much has changed for me - well, I do live on another continent now - but even that is not new to me. I move. I move a lot. In all, I have called a total of 10 different places home in my lifetime. And that is not just houses moved, that is times I have picked up all of my belongings and carted them more than 500 miles (I don't count moves of under 250 miles to be a move - that is just changing scenery). If you do the math, that means I have moved once every 3.9 years. Count in the fact that I spent 10 years in one of those places and it means I have unpacked more boxes than some military personnel. It also brings my average time in one spot down to 3.22222 years. (Add in the houses I have moved within cities while living there and that number goes down drastically). That's a lot of moving people.
For a long time I would have told you that my home was Peoria (and I still do if I just want to get off the topic and not have to tell a very. long. story.) In fact, this is the place I spent my formative years. In essence, I grew up there. I went to grade school, I finished high school and I moved on to college just like many other people. But here is where it gets tricky. My parents were moved right as I was heading out of high school and into college. I was leaving home - and so were they - and I was never going to get the chance to go back. When I packed up to go to college, my parents were also packing to move to their next assignment. There would be no visiting with friends on Christmas break. There would be no impromptu get togethers at Easter to discuss how our new lives were going. No summers of goofing off and enjoying the freedom that is afforded you at 18, 19, 20... If I wanted to see my friends, we had to make special plans...outside of the holidays, because those were reserved for family, and mine no longer lived in the same place as theirs did. As I had moved away from home, home had moved away too.
And this was to continue. Until my dad retired. My "home base" kept shifting. My parents moved 6 times in 12 years. They moved to two different countries, and 4 different states. And each time, when someone asked me if I was going home for the holidays, the answer was always a resounding yes. No hesitation. I still associated home with my parents. I associated it with wherever my family was at the time, even if I had never set foot in the house they lived in before. That was still home, because it was were my heart and soul were. Without my parents to ground me, I was just floundering in the world, pretending that I was a grown up. I needed to touch base every once in awhile to remember who I was and where I came from. Remember, I was moving around just as much as they were and was a bit lost myself. They, and their ever moving homes, provided me with the knowledge that even though you didn't recognize the surroundings, as long as family was there, you were home.
And then I got married and had kids. Everything changed. Not only did I have a family of my own, but now I had to provide that same sense of belonging for my kids. Infants that were counting on me to make them feel safe, feel loved, feel like they were home. And it was easy for the first 3 years. We had adopted California quickly. In fact, it is the one place that felt like home the minute I set foot on land. There was no adjustment, there was no breaking in. I was just home. And by then the question had changed to, "Are you staying home for the holidays"? And I could answer, "Nope, we are headed to my parents house to celebrate". Their house was no longer home to me, but it was a gathering point. The whole family traveled to one spot, spent the holiday's and then went to their respective homes until it was time to do it again. But for the first time EVER in my life, I will be spending the Christmas holiday in the home I currently reside in. For the very first time I will not have to pack presents or have them shipped (or have someone else do it for me as I was too young), I will not have to pack a suitcase, I don't have to think that putting up the tree is a waste of time since no one will be around to enjoy it come mid-December. I will be waking up on Christmas morning surrounded by my own things, in the home I live in for the First. Time. Ever. (and I mean ever - not just since I have been an adult). I did not do this as a child since we either had to head back to the states for home leave or if we were already states side, we headed to Wisconsin where the extended family was.
So, will I be heading home for the holiday's? Nope. I am already home and I am staying put. For once in my life at least I will be in my own home for the holidays.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
A Picture with Santa
Classic, right? But who can blame her? We tell her all year not to talk to strangers, to make a fuss if someone she doesn't know is doing something she isn't comfortable with and to use her judgement when it comes to new people that she has just met. And then for one day, we tell her to forget all that, and plop her on a strangers lap, say that she should tell him what she wants for Christmas and smile all the while she is doing it. But this is Santa you say. I know you don't know him, but trust me, he is a good guy. Trust you, my foot...Remember that fuss you told me to make if I wasn't comfortable with what someone was doing...Here you go!
But we did discover a new way to make Stinkerbell behave. We tell her if she doesn't behave, we will take her back and make her sit on Santa's lap again...And it stops her cold. A little wrong maybe, but whatever works...
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Wants vs. Needs
I have engaged in this debate more times than I have even thought humanly possible in a life time. And I will do it untold times in the future. And yet, for as many times as I have battled, I still have a hard time distinguishing between a want and a need, especially as the Holiday season draws nearer. Especially since I am the type of person that wants to buy my friends and family everything they wish for. Sometimes the line can get a little fuzzy, but at other times, it is so amazingly clear...
Want - new shoes that make my calves look long and slim (instead of muscular from running). Preferably with high heels and red soles.
Need - new running shoes or any shoes to keep my feet from being unshod in public places.
Want - latest cell phone technology to keep me in the loop with all of my friends. Especially since majority of said friends live on another continent.
Need - cell phone to keep me safe when it finally happens that one of these crazy Chilean drivers hits me, and they begin ranting at me in very rapid Chilean Spanish (and yes, this is different than Spanish). I just need to be able to call someone - anyone - that can translate for me.
Want - one, just one, lens for my new camera that can become my walking around lens. Right now I have very specific lenses, that take very specific shots and it means switching lenses. A lot.
Need - well, honestly, I have the camera (which was a want, more than a need) so I can't justify anything.
Want - a safe, secure home.
Need - a safe secure home. (Sometimes there just is no line).
Want - my girls to believe in Santa and all the magic that it brings in this month leading up to the holiday's. I want them to behave because if they don't, Santa won't bring them any gifts (is there an emptier threat, anywhere?).
Need - my girls to know the true meaning of Christmas, that there is just as much magic in giving as there is in receiving, to know that when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, that even if we didn't have Christmas, we would have each other and that is enough.
I could go on and on. We all could. We make lists this time of year to send to Santa, to send to family, to keep on our computers because we just can't find the time, or even remember, to give them to anyone. They are lists of wants. Very rare is the list that states "All I need is enough food to feed my family, enough money to pay for a roof over my head, and a job that makes this all possible". I don't think I have ever made a list of things I need. Because I don't think in all of my years of being on this earth, I have ever experience true need. Oh, as a teenager, I bet I could have made a long, drawn out case about how I "needed" this or that. In reality, I have been blessed. This life has given me more than I could ever have wished for on any list.
So the next time you hear me complain about something, remind me of all that I have. All that I have had and all that I will have. Remind me that it is about health, not wealth. It is about redemption, not exception. It is about contrition, not acquisition.
I am so truly blessed this holiday season. Because I have my health, I have my family and I have a roof over my head. I have love, I have faith and I have two little girls that remind me every day that I. Have. It. All. But I still have a Christmas list if you would like to see it...
Want - new shoes that make my calves look long and slim (instead of muscular from running). Preferably with high heels and red soles.
Need - new running shoes or any shoes to keep my feet from being unshod in public places.
Want - latest cell phone technology to keep me in the loop with all of my friends. Especially since majority of said friends live on another continent.
Need - cell phone to keep me safe when it finally happens that one of these crazy Chilean drivers hits me, and they begin ranting at me in very rapid Chilean Spanish (and yes, this is different than Spanish). I just need to be able to call someone - anyone - that can translate for me.
Want - one, just one, lens for my new camera that can become my walking around lens. Right now I have very specific lenses, that take very specific shots and it means switching lenses. A lot.
Need - well, honestly, I have the camera (which was a want, more than a need) so I can't justify anything.
Want - a safe, secure home.
Need - a safe secure home. (Sometimes there just is no line).
Want - my girls to believe in Santa and all the magic that it brings in this month leading up to the holiday's. I want them to behave because if they don't, Santa won't bring them any gifts (is there an emptier threat, anywhere?).
Need - my girls to know the true meaning of Christmas, that there is just as much magic in giving as there is in receiving, to know that when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, that even if we didn't have Christmas, we would have each other and that is enough.
I could go on and on. We all could. We make lists this time of year to send to Santa, to send to family, to keep on our computers because we just can't find the time, or even remember, to give them to anyone. They are lists of wants. Very rare is the list that states "All I need is enough food to feed my family, enough money to pay for a roof over my head, and a job that makes this all possible". I don't think I have ever made a list of things I need. Because I don't think in all of my years of being on this earth, I have ever experience true need. Oh, as a teenager, I bet I could have made a long, drawn out case about how I "needed" this or that. In reality, I have been blessed. This life has given me more than I could ever have wished for on any list.
So the next time you hear me complain about something, remind me of all that I have. All that I have had and all that I will have. Remind me that it is about health, not wealth. It is about redemption, not exception. It is about contrition, not acquisition.
I am so truly blessed this holiday season. Because I have my health, I have my family and I have a roof over my head. I have love, I have faith and I have two little girls that remind me every day that I. Have. It. All. But I still have a Christmas list if you would like to see it...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
S.A.D.
I feel like I have Seasonal Affective Disorder...but in reverse. SAD is supposed to hit you when the days start shortening and the weather turns a bit colder and you feel like you just want to hole up in your house, in front of the fire, and never move. Not that this is all bad. But the symptoms of SAD - overeating carbohydrates, sleeping too much, becoming lethargic - now those are not good. The experts attribute it to the shorter daylight hours and the cold weather and have found that the further you live from the equator, the worse it's affects can be. So why, when we are just coming out of all this "short days, dreary weather" am I feeling it now?
Perhaps it is because I have endured 2 winters back to back and it is just going to take me a bit longer to shake the doldrums that come from being shut inside for almost a year. We will have to see. But I wonder, why then, it didn't hit me during the beginning of my second fall in a row? In April, my body was just getting ready for the warm spring breezes and outdoor play and my kids were gearing up for pool season, and suddenly we moved to the South Pole. OK, not really, but we got pretty close. We went from blooming trees to dying leaves. From late afternoon park days to having play called due to darkness. Again.
And I think the majority of it, and why it has hit me so suddenly this week, is the fact that we are in the throes of the holiday season - in summer. In fact, just days before Christmas we will hit the Summer Solstice. It will be our longest day of the year. It will be very warm. And it will be very odd. And I think anyone who grew up north of the equator would agree with me. I have spent almost 40 years celebrating the Holidays (and yes, they do deserve to be capitalized - they are important) with the changing of the seasons...and with that I mean from fall to winter (not this Spring to Summer thing they have going on down here). Sweaters and boots signaled the start of the season - not bikinis and flip flops. Alas, it is 90 degrees here now and I am finding it a bit hard to get in the Christmas spirit. And I think this may be the root of my problems. I pulled out my Christmas decorations only to find it full of things that signify winter...A pair of ski's to hang upon my door. A flocked tree to put next to the entrance to my home. Snowmen and nutcrackers. Heavy velvet stockings. All things we associate with winter. And it is 90 degrees outside my door. One of these things is not like the others, One of these things does not belong...
So, as we are hitting our late Spring stride and skipping our way into the beautiful, smog free weather that is summer here in the Southern Hemisphere, I am a bit depressed. Not depressed, depressed. Just a bit, well, SAD. But it doesn't last long. Do you know why? How can you be sad when this is the joy that your children feel because it is summer in December? This type of joy- the drinking from the garden hose, splashing a bucket full of water over your sisters head, and romping with your dog in the backyard variety - is contagious. It just makes me a little less S.A.D.
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| Testing the temperature! With an air temperature of 90, it can never be too cold. |
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| Dulce doesn't mind MadHatter's seconds. |
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| After satiating our thirst, they are finally filling the pool. |
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