Spring has Sprung

Just as the weather is turning cooler back in the states and parents are celebrating the first weeks of the new school year, we are ending our Spring Break here in the Southern Hemisphere.  Actually, school was out for the week because of a national holiday (think 4th of July, but much bigger), but they don't get an official "Spring Break", so this is it.  MadHatter has been home for the past 10 days and the weather has cooperated with us by raising itself into the 22-25C region (70-80F) and no rain (hopefully until next winter).  It was a lot of fun having both kids home all day and we sure made the most of it.  Hope you enjoy a quick peek at our fun...

We swang...

We potty trained...

We got bounce house hair...

We licked the spoon...

And forgot to hold on tight.

        

And climbed the bug...

I painted some...

I studied some...

But mostly we laughed and played and acted like kids!

We danced a bit, got horsey rides and took lots and lots of baths - sometimes 2 a day because it's our favorite time of day. It's when we talk about what we did, and how much fun we had and what we were planning tomorrow!

And we topped it all off with some kite flying in the park for our final hurrah!  I wish it didn't have to end...well, sort of.  I am exhausted!

El Dieciocho - better known as September

The fourth of July is a big deal in the U.S.  A really big deal.  And I love the holiday for all that it stands for and for the fact that, for one day, the whole country comes together.  We put our difference behind us.  We don't worry about political affiliations, we become colorblind, we become a classless society and realize, at least for one day, that we are all living in the same neighborhood - the United States.  We are all just happy to be American and we celebrate it for one glorious day.

But we have nothing on the Chileans.

They don't celebrate for a mere day.  Or even a weekend.  They celebrate for a whole month.  And when I say celebrate, I mean, they CELEBRATE.  There are Asados to stuff yourself at, Fondas to attend and Cuecas to dance. There are Terremotos to drink, kites to fly and if you have kids, school assemblies to attend.  Though is seems like a lot, you have plenty of time to do it all.  More than once.   Because even though the Chilean's independence from Spain was declared on the 18th of September (hence Dieciocho) in 1810, it all starts with the 1st of September.  When the date finally rolls around the entire country seems to heave off the shackles of winter and lifts their newly lightened limbs to the skies to welcome the dawning of Spring.  It is the end of the cold, damp winter and it is the perfect time to celebrate.  At the beginning of the month you start to notice the vendors lining the street corners are now selling flags of every size and kites in every shape. You will start finding the grocery stores stocked with all of your Asado necessities - meat, meat, grill, meat, some bread and a bit more meat.  You will start seeing traditional Cueca outfits - for men this means a traditional huaso's hat (flat and round brimmed) with a flannel poncho worn over his shoulders, riding pants and boots (spurs optional).  Woman wear a flowered dress with an apron.  As the month progresses, and we get nearer and nearer to El Dieciocho - the Fondas (and feasts) begin in earnest.

I don't even know if I could describe a Fonda since I have only been to one, so I will let Doris Hamilton (a noted teacher from Chile) say it for me..."Fondas are held in large gathering halls in small temporary sites in the cities, towns and rural areas of Chile.  The fondas in small towns and rural areas are often roofed with branches from eucalyptus trees and have sawdust-covered floors.  Usually the fondas operate for five or six nights during the Dieciocho celebration." And then they disappear, unti the next year.  The one we went to yesterday was hardly in a small town (the east end of Santiago) and was held at a large park.  It reminded me of the county fair that rolled into my small city every year, only to roll out two weeks later.  The Fonda had rodeo's and livestock, local wares and homemade jams for sale.  There was a midway and a food way (not a real word but you get my drift).  There was a stage for the bands and floor for dancing.
It was a lot of fun for all of us.  We each tried a little bit of everything.  Stinkerbell got to go on her first roller coaster and she stuffed herself with her favorite Chilean food - Choripan (Chorizo sausage wrapped in bread).  She also had "Candy Cotton" and a sticky face.  MadHatter got her Papa to dance the Cueca with her, which she couldn't have enjoyed more, even more than the pony ride that wrapped up our day.  B and I tried our first Terremoto (translates literally to earthquake) and it really does leave your knees wobbly and the ground shaking - and we split one.  I can't imagine drinking a whole one.

The recipe: 

2 Liters of White Wine

1 1/4 cups of Pisco

3 Tbs sugar

Pineapple Ice Cream

In a shaker add the white wine, pisco, sugar and about 5 Tbs of ice cream.  Cover shaker and mix well.  Pour into tall pint glass and top with a large scoop of ice cream.  Feel the earth shake!

Feliz Dieciocho everyone!!!  Hope you had a great time if you were here.  If not, consider joining us next year.

Birdie Snacks

It is starting to get warm in our part of the world again.  After suffering through two winters back to back, it was a great sight to see the cherry blossoms blooming and to wake up this morning to the birds singing in distant trees.   It is actually warm enough in the morning that the dog will venture out before 9 am, instead of looking at you like "Have you seen the frost on the grass?  These paws deserve more than that".  And it isn't just the warmth I welcome (although I didn't know that even when you heat a concrete house, it just never loses it's chill), I love the sounds and smells of Spring too.  From the sweet fragrance of the baby cherry blossoms to the sounds of the birds constant chatter, I fill up my senses with the wonder of new life sprouting everywhere.  I swear, if you listen closely enough, you can even hear the new leaves budding on the bare limbs of the trees.  And MadHatter and Stinkerbell are not immune, even at their young ages.  They are suddenly a bit less cranky and a lot less bored.  They are able to go outside without sweaters and coats weighing them down.  There is no need to carry a paraguas (umbrella), which is a necessity here in the winter.  It's been a long damp and chilly 3 months and we are really enjoying the advent of Spring.  MadHatter and I discussed a couple of ideas of how we would like to celebrate the new season.  We talked of painting pictures for the birds because who doesn't love a picture drawn especially for them.  We discussed going and getting McDonalds (readily seconded by her sister) but decided that was more of a treat for us, than a celebration of Spring.  She suggested that we could now play with our Play-Doh outside and make the birdies some snacks out of Doh...which we did...but we didn't let them eat any of it.  But in keeping with that line of thinking, I suggested we make birdfeeders to welcome the birdies back home after their long trips.  MadHatter thought that would be great because "they will be hungry after flying for so long.  I would be if I had to flap my wings all day".  And she proceeded to run around flapping her arms, showing me how quickly she would get tired.  About 90 seconds.  She would not be a good migratory bird.

Yesterday, we gathered all of our store bought ingredients, searched the ground for pine cones (not available, but there is something very similar), and set it all up on the back table, we proceeded to build "Birdie Snacks" (well, Stinkerbell snacks too).  They had so much fun, but I think I had more.  

I love days like this.

She tried so hard to string the Cheerios but just got frustrated instead.  So, she had a snack.

Potty Training Part 2

I have been a mother for 3 years, 8 months and 3 days or 1342 days.  Not a long time in the general scheme of things (though it seems much longer when you look at it this way) but long enough to have learned about the joys of being a mom, and even about some of the not so hot moments.  Like the fact that I haven't had but a handful of truly restful nights sleep in those same 1342 days, or that it truly is much better when your child has to throw up, to just cup your hands together and catch (you will never make it to the bathroom in time, and they will not hit the bucket/bowl/receptacle of choice, even if it is handy) and you will save yourself a ton of clean up time.  I have helped them navigate all of their firsts, and I have done it with much excitement and anticipation (and lots of pictures to mark the moments).  You can't see your child take their first wobbly steps, whether it is at 8 months or 13 months, and not be overcome with pride and a feeling that they are the only babies that did it THIS good.  You feed them that first spoonful of solid food and just wait for the inevitable face.  You know, the one that says -  How dare you replace my milk with...this?  Even though, for the past 10 minutes she has contentedly been chewing on the cats toy without a care in the world.  And I have done it twice, in a very short span of time (what were we thinking having two kids 17 months apart)?  And I would not have changed it for the world.  Those firsts are precious and they only happen once and I am so grateful to have been able to witness them all.

With that said, I have DREADED this day (week, month, 6 months) almost from the moment Stinkerbell was born...the day she started Potty Training.  I would have paid someone to live through this "first" for me (no, really, I looked it up online and there are people that will come in for a week and potty train your kids for you...no, really).  Sure, the first picture of them on the potty (this is not the VERY first time, but forgive me my camera is broken and my phone is not always handy in the bathroom)

Potty training does not take a break, even while at the park.

Thanks for the Minnie Mouse panties, Auntie Shannon!

and the first picture of Stinkerbell in panties are both very cute...and the moment she peed for the very first time in the big girl potty and the "I did it" recognition that crossed her face were all very special.  I couldn't imagine not having been there...But now someone else can take over for me and just hand her back to me when she has perfected the Art of Potty Training.

I don't dislike it for the reasons you might be thinking.  MadHatter was a dream to potty train, so I have no bad experience to have scarred me. In whole, I could not have scripted the situation any better. Heck, she was even night time trained 2 months after she turned 2 (hate mail can be sent to...)   So, where does this antipathy come from you ask?  I'm not sure I know, but I think I can try to explain.

The hardest part about Potty Training is not the training itself.  The hardest part is the constant need to be on your toes because in the beginning you are actually the one that is being trained.  You are being trained to notice the subtle signs that the trainee needs to go, might need to go, or has already gone.  You will need to be aware of every sip of liquid that goes into their little mouths so that you can start the mental 20 minute timer and know when you will need to take them to tinkle.  The same thing applies for food, but you have a much longer lead time until that comes out again.  And beware of the random sippy cup that they have stashed somewhere from last week.  That sip could be the one that throws them over the edge.  You have to be ready at a moments notice to leave your grocery cart, full of groceries, at the front of the store while you race against the clock to make it to the bathroom before we need cleanup on Aisle 1.  And you will always be on the opposite end of the store than the bathroom, don't kid yourself and think it will be close (here in Chile - it is outside the store and downstairs...way to be helpful).  And let's not talk about all the times you will take them out, perhaps to eat a nice lunch or get some ice cream, and you will get all settled in with your food and you hear "I have to pee pee" and they mean it - RIGHT NOW.  Your only choice is to leave the food, grab your child (children if you have more than one), your purse and run...hoping you make it.  And if you do, you have to hope that the restaurant doesn't think you skipped out on the bill and has cleaned up your table while you were gone (yes, it happened).  You don't have time to find someone to explain, you just have to go.  Are you starting to get the picture.  There is no more waiting to change their diaper because it is already wet and what will 10 more minutes really mean.  You wait that 10 minutes with a potty trainer and you will need a change of clothes, for them, and perhaps for you.  You will strip them down at least once, in public, in a place you would never (and I mean never) have thought to ever strip your child down before (Aisle 6 today, right next to the cake mixes imported from the U.S.) because they have peed and it is much easier to get the wet clothes off than to listen to them screaming about how they peed.  (Luckily we had picked up panties earlier and had an extra veggie bag with us for the clothes.  She finished out the trip in skivvies, tennies and her top).

 If you weren't a helicopter parent before, you will be now.  You must be with your child 24/7.  But, you think, I already am with them all the time, how much more could I possibly be with them.  Don't kid yourself...you are in the same house with them, but usually by age 2 or 3, you can walk out of a room and trust them not to stick a knife in the light socket (nobody call social services, I do not leave them with knives...just light sockets). You may have hit the point that you may even be able to shower or go to the bathroom without a shadow.  No more.  You will now have to keep an eagle eye on them all the time.  When I shower, she plays iPad games.  If she stops and gets that look, I have to jump out of the shower, put her on the potty while I drip all over my iPad (can you tell this happened to me today).  You are like a fly and flypaper!

Are you exhausted yet?  I am.

So, Potty Training is not my favorite part of Motherhood.  There is bound to be something that we don't like in our jobs.  I am pretty grateful that for the most part that I do love my job and I love being able to watch my girls grow up.  I would not want to be doing anything else, anywhere else...but I am also not above letting someone else take the lead on this project.  Feel free to call me if this sounds like a job you might like...

(P.S.  She has been a fabulous trainee and she is learning so fast.  2 accidents in 4 days is to be celebrated.  Still hate the task at hand)

Hannah Montana Band-Aids

I am a really horrible Patient.  I mean, the word itself just makes me antsy and gets me feeling claustrophobic.  I don't like being on forced downtime, and strangely enough, I just don't like being fussed over and taken care of (I know, I know...).  I have a fairly high tolerance for pain and this makes it even harder to just sit still and wait until my body catches up to my mind.  When you don't feel bad, you can fool yourself into thinking you are just fine, and then over do it.  But sometimes you just have to be the Patient whether you like it or not.

Two days ago I had to go into the hospital.  Nothing too major - I had to have my thyroid removed.  I have known that this was coming for awhile now since I have Hashimoto's.  This just means that my body thought that my thyroid was a foreign invader and was attacking it.  Slowly, but surely, my thyroid was losing the fight.  My doctor and I agreed that it was better to put it out of it's misery (and me out of mine) by waving the white flag and surrendering.  So, on a brisk Thursday morning, I checked into Clinica Alemana to bid adieu to my non-functioning organ, and the 4 cm nodule that was making it difficult to swallow.

MadHatter and I had talked about it a lot the day before I had to go.  We didn't make a big deal of it, but I didn't want to just disappear for a day or two and not tell her what was going on. (Stinkerbell on the other hand, is just too little to understand much or notice).  We told her a watered down version of what the doctor was going to do and why and that when I came home I would have a bandage over my owie and we would have to be careful for awhile.

Bag packed, band-aids ready.

On the morning of my surgery, B and I were getting ready, and I got MadHatter ready for school as we were going to drop her off on our way to check in.  I am heading upstairs, calling to MadHatter that we are going to be late if we don't leave now and she yells down "just a minute Mom.  We can't leave without the Band-Aids.  They don't have Hannah Montana band-aids at the hospital and you are going to need one so that when you come home, our owies match (she had one on each foot from her new shoes)".  She then proceeds to go through the box of Hannah Montana band-aids to find the ones that match the ones she has and gives them to me.  Of course they came with instructions to "make sure you give them to your doctor so he can put them on when he is done".  Oh, how I love this child!!!

We check in and are sent to a staging area where I have to change into my standard issue hospital gown.  Except this isn't so standard.  Instead of opening in the front, or the back, it opens down both sides.  Sounds great, right?  Nope.  You can use your hands to hold the seam closed in the front (or back)  - you don't have enough hands to hold it closed down both sides.  But I will give them points for the great Dopp kit and presentation of it all.

The surgery went well  and it was all pretty textbook (so I am told, I slept through it all).  My biggest problem was in the recovery room.  I came out of anesthesia to a nurse gently shaking my leg and asking if I was in any pain.  Funny enough, I wasn't in any until she shook me awake, but then I could rate it about an 8.  Now the hard part...She spoke only Spanish.  Me, on my best days, speak Spanglish.  After anesthesia, I speak gibberish.  This is where is got fun.  I spent the next 5 hours in recovery trying to not only wear of the fogginess that accompanies surgery, but also trying to think in Spanish to understand what my nurses were asking me.  Thank goodness I have done this before and there is a universal rating system for pain.  And thank goodness for the Morphine that had me slipping into sleep more often than I was awake to talk.  Finally that evening they wheeled me to my room and told me I could eat!  Funny, I know it had been 24 hours since I had eaten, but I still wasn't hungry.  Maybe the sight of food would awaken my appetite...

Maybe not.  This should be against the law.  This is every bland food you could ever think of all presented as a meal.  This isn't a meal - this is torture.  Applesauce, Jell-o, mashed potatoes, pea soup, and for the best part...wait for it....pureed chicken breast.  And when I say pureed, I mean, they took a chicken breast, threw it in a blender and then put it on my plate.  There was no water or milk added, no salt or pepper.  It was just as dry and bland as it looks.  Needless to say, I still wasn't hungry.  I got some of it down (not the chicken though) because I knew it was my only hope of ever going home.  And going home is what I wanted to do more than anything.  I slept - sort of.  Stopped taking my Morphine (they don't let you travel on Morphine), and got up and went to the bathroom a few times (they like that!  Shows that everything is working well).  When the Doctor came in and talked to me, I did my best impression of a very healthy, happy person who wanted to go home and he told me that as long as my calcium test came back normal - I would be in my bed that night.  And I was!!!  But before I left the hospital I had just one more thing I had to do...

A very swollen and sore neck, but pretty band-aid, right?

MadHatter was soooo happy that the Dr. had listened to her and used her band-aid!  She just knew that the "puffies and the red" would all go away soon since the butterfly was protecting me.  I'm sure that it has more to do with your love and kisses MadHatter, than the band-aid!!!  (and let's not forget Stinkerbell...she has hugged and kissed Mommy so many times since I got home!)

Stage Fright

MadHatter is a performer.  She is a dancer and she is a singer and she is definitely an actress.  An Oscar worthy one when it involves something she really just has to have/do/make...Right. This. Minute. I have witnessed her choreograph elaborate dance routines and then try to teach them to her mother, who definitely has two left feet and not a single gene for rhythm.  She makes up songs throughout the day about almost anything, mostly about what she is day dreaming about, though I have heard many a song about what we are eating for dinner.  Madhatter is an entertainer and combined with her wicked imagination, it is rare that a day goes by without her involving us all in her show.  And I say this, not to brag (though I do think she is super), but because it never fails to amaze me that this girl, the one that can't stop dancing and singing at home, stops dead in her tracks when asked to do either in front of more than 3 people.  Exhibits A, B and C...

It is Chilean Independence Day (also known as Dieciocho).  As the name implies, it falls on the 18th, which is almost 2 weeks away, though this will not stop the Chileans from celebrating today.  And tomorrow.  And for the next two weeks (I will get into that as we get closer to the holiday to end all holiday's).  Today, the MadHatter's school had a Fiesta to celebrate.  All the kids got dressed up in their traditional Chilean clothing, prepared snacks to share, and invited their parents, grandparent's and siblings to come to school and celebrate in true Chilean style.  They sang songs, they told stories, they danced.

  

And by they, I mean everyone but MadHatter.  She smiled and looked oh so cute in her Chilean outfit, 

but did not make a single noise...  Her stage fright is so cute at this age.  I just hope she doesn't carry it with her forever.  I know firsthand how awful it can be to be painfully shy as a kid, and I don't wish it upon her. 

When we got home, she wanted to see the pictures and watch herself on video, so we sat down at the computer and reviewed the fun we had at the Fiesta.  And wouldn't you know it, she sang along to all the songs, got up and showed me each dance and even told me all about the national flower (which she is impersonating in the picture to the left).  

I think we had even more fun the second time.  I know I did, because this time I got to participate and dance with my favorite dancer!  Hope you enjoy the short clips - my camera and video camera are still on life support...

To Do:

On Sunday's, usually before lunch, I sit down and write down all the things that come to my mind that I have to do in the coming week.  It is free flowing, in no particular order and is a jumbled mess by the time I am done.  I spend only about 5-10 minutes on it and then walk away from it.  I do jot things on it during the day if something pops into my head, but I don't think about it much...until later.  When the kids are in bed and B is upstairs beginning his work week (yes, it starts on Sunday night with emails and catch up work), I revisit the mess that I have jotted down just hours before and try to put it in some semblance of an order.  I start with the MUST'S and move to the Would Like's and end with the You are dreaming if you think this can be accomplished this week's.  It is still before dinner time here so I haven't revised as of yet, but here is the jumbled heap of a To Do list that is my week ahead...I am tired just thinking about putting it in order, much less accomplishing anything on it...

To Do: 

• Dr. Rossi - 2 pm on Tuesday - get all records and films together
• Buy MadHatter traditional Chilean outfit for Fiesta at school on Tuesday
• Remind B about being at MadHatter's Fiesta at 11 on Tuesday
• Electrician coming Tuesday - mark all outlets that are blown, not working or just crazy.  Mark all switches that don't work or seem to control anything.
• Fix Outlook (says I need to reinstall, again)
• Finish taping off and painting Stinkerbell's closet doors
• Touch up the painting in the kids play room
• Start taping to paint our bedroom
• Finish MyPublisher book of our trip to Caribbean
• Order camera - get address from B on where he is staying on his trip to U.S. so I can send things.  Make sure to order all accessories too.
• Order Shout gel (can't get it here in Chile)
• Do laundry that Nani is not allowed to do
• Teach Nani how to do laundry (no, I am not kidding)
• Confirm change in dates and times on my Spanish lessons
• Study said Spanish
• Buy wine
• Shop for swing set for girls christmas present...try Sodimac, online and post on facebook group
• Update i-Tunes with running music.  Download to iPhone a new running playlist.
• Sign up for 10K - www.ultramaratondelosandes.cl - by Thursday
• Swim lessons for both kids - do I want to do at home or at Mall Sport?  Somewhere else?  Soon!!!
• Find a gymnastics or dance class for MadHatter. Stinkerbell too?
• Find solution for pictures on stairwell.  Must be done this week as need to order from U.S.
• Borrow sleds for Saturday mountain trip
• Finish budget asap.
• Playdate with N for MadHatter this week?  Call K.
• Post highchair, outgrown toys and pool fence on mercadolibre.  Write out descriptions and have B translate.
• Find something to clean the shower head in our shower - equivalent of CLR.  Do they have it here?
• Call Lu.
• Weed through kids winter clothes.  Box up MadHatter's hand me downs, donate Stinkerbell's.  Pull out the boxed spring/summer clothes and weed through.  
• Shop for summer clothes online in U.S. and ship asap to get to B in time to bring home.
• Friday cocktails at our house???
• Find directions to Apumanque Mall - kids haircuts.
• Sleep.

I think I will head out for a playdate instead of working on this...Sounds like a lot more fun.

A picture is worth a thousand words

My camera died.  Actually, it is on life support as we speak but I think I am going to have to pull the plug.  I have consulted experts and I have talked with lay people and my informed opinion is that my beloved camera has seen better days and needs to be put out of it's misery.  It just wasn't meant to be used the way I used it.  When I told the Canon technical expert how many pictures my poor camera had taken in the past 3 years, he about choked and asked me to check that number again.  He then told me that the error message I was getting was to be expected when you have taken that many pictures.  He then asked me if I was a professional photographer?  My turn to chuckle.  No, I am no expert and if I was, I probably would have a much more elaborate camera.  He then suggested that if I was going to continue taking so many pictures, I may want to get out of the entry level arena and move to a more durable camera...Music to my ears.  Heartbreaking for my pocketbook.  You see...I have no dreams of being a professional photographer, but I also have no plans to stop taking so many pictures. It's a lifeline to me...from my family to, well, my family.  I will explain.

In the past couple of years (since MadHatter was born) I have been accused of taking too many pictures.  Way, way too many pictures.  But I say, one can never take too many pictures.  How can there be too many memories?  How can you see a moment that has been frozen in time and not be transported back to that moment?   Even if you weren't there, you imagine how it might have been. You see the face of your newborn grandchild captured at the instant that it was first seen by the outside world and you smile, it's almost as good as being there.  Almost.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I don't evoke these emotions because I am the best photographer in the world.  I am no slouch around a camera, and when I take my time, I can shoot with the best of them but the thing is, I don't really care to take the time most of the time.  I just want to shoot the picture, capture the general feeling of what is happening and then get out from behind my lense and truly enjoy life, as it is happening...with the people I love.  But if you are looking at my pictures, I want you to feel like you were there.  That you were a part of it.  I don't care if it was centered perfectly, or the rule of thirds was properly executed.  I don't care if the picture would have been that much better if I had just shortened the focal point or sped up the shutter speed by half.  Because I am not really shooting these pictures for me (well, I am but I'm not) but rather, I am shooting them for the people that can't be there to experience the moment as it is happening.  Mostly, I do it for the family.

I know all too well what it is like to grow up without an extended family.  I never really got to know my grandparents, my aunts, uncles and cousins.  My family was my brothers and my parents and that was ok with me.  We moved a bit when we were kids and just knowing that our small nuclear family was there, made anywhere feel like home.  We visited the extended family when we could, which was about twice a year.  Not enough time for anyone to really get to know each other.  I don't know any different, so that is my reality.  I never really thought much of it until I had children of my own. But when MadHatter was born,  I started to think about whether this was what I wanted for my children?  Is that the way my parents would want to know their grandchildren or my brothers their nieces?  Or B's family (which is very Latin and much closer!)? My  answer was a resounding no. But how do I go about changing the reality of the fact that we didn't live anywhere near either of our extended families (and I mean nowhere within 1500 miles close, some not within 6000 miles).  How do you bridge those kinds of distances?   I did it with pictures.  Lots and lots of pictures.  I set up a website and sent the link out to everyone and then I fed that link with hundreds of pictures weekly.  I took pictures of her first smile, her first bath, her first everything. I even took pictures of her sleeping.  I wanted to make sure that even though they couldn't be there for all the first's, they could still live them with us.  I  snapped pictures everywhere, until even B (the proud Papa) told me it was enough.  And all I could think of was - it will never be enough.  I cannot take enough pictures to make up for all they are missing.  For all the moments that we get to live and they have to see secondhand.  I wanted the whole extended family to feel like they knew both of our girls from the minute they were born.  I just didn't ever want them to feel disconnected.  I didn't want them to feel like they missed out on their lives.  And I know they still do.  We have a lot of family members that have still never met either of our girls (grandparents included) and it saddens me.  So I keep taking pictures, hoping to bridge the distance just a bit.  Hoping that I am building a connection between their lives.  A connection built frame by frame...day by day.  I will continue to take pictures of the mundane and the exciting and the extraordinary and hope that it is enough. It will never be enough, but I try.

And this is why I am saddened by the demise of my beloved Canon.  I will replace it - and quickly (especially since my Flip decided to die within the same week).  And for the next couple of weeks, I will probably be writing thousands of words... a poor substitute for what I could usually convey in just one picture.

Home again, Home again...

After being gone for 11 days, I didn't know how I would feel about coming home.  Not just because coming back from vacation always leaves me a bit unbalanced - wanting to keep one foot in the fantasy life that is vacation and one foot wanting to step on the solid ground of routine again - but this time I had to throw in the fact that I didn't even know if it would feel like I was coming home. We have only been in Santiago for 5 months now, and I just wasn't sure if I would get that feeling of being HOME when I walked through my front door.  You know the feeling...the one that just surrounds you with the knowledge that these are your spaces, your things, your piece of the world that is just exactly as you left it and exactly as you want it.  That this was the place that you wanted to be more than any other.  Was it?  Was Santiago that place for me now, or would I walk in and still be waiting to feel that familiar rush of being home?  We haven't been here very long and I  didn't want to be disappointed if it wasn't so I kept telling myself that it was OK if I didn't feel that way.  That it would take time for me to really accept this new city and my new house, and really make it a home.  I gave myself a pep talk all the way home in the car...but I really didn't need to.  As  we started the climb to our house in the foothills, I felt the familiarity of the streets envelope me.  As we got closer to the house, I grew more and more excited to be there.  And when I walked through the front door, I was relaxed and the house just seemed to scream Welcome Home.  It was a pleasant surprise!

As for that vacation - it was wonderful.  I do wish it could start without the sleeplessness of an overnight flight that isn't really overnight since it lands in Miami at 3:45 am (that is over-half-night).  The girls slept for all of 2 hours and then were wide awake until we got to our hotel room at 6 am.  Then they went down for a 3 hour nap and were good as new.  Can't say the same for myself.  I am getting too old to live on less than 6 hours of sleep and 3 really doesn't even make a dent.  That is just a long nap.  I am very glad we decided to leave a day early so that we didn't have to walk off our flight and onto the boat.  I liked having 24 hours to decompress and catch up on some sleep so that when we hit the big boat, we would be ready to enjoy it, not pass out from exhaustion.  And I really liked that we got to spend some time with B's cousin and his girlfriend - and so did the girls apparently.  We had a 3 hour lunch and they sat like little ladies and never once complained...either they were over tired or enamored of our guests.

I won't bore you with details of each day on the cruise as each day was pretty much a repeat of the paradise of the day before.  Wake up and be served breakfast, put on swim suit, go to the beach, eat lunch, some more beach, nap, drop kids at kids club, B and I have dinner and adult time for a couple of hours, pick up kids, bed and start all over again.  The kids could not have behaved better, loved the beach more or been more fun to hang out with...and B and I see many more family vacations in our future.  I will end with a few  pictures...

MadHatter and her new best friends!

Much better place for my pedicure!

The MadHatter loved her water.

Stinkerbell was happiest splashing and jumping and walking...

A good time was had by all!

Holy Snowstorm Batman!

It really was a snowstorm.  Not just one of those smatterings of snow that get blown into snowstorm proportions by people who don't see snow very often, or ever.  I know snow.  I am very intimately involved with snow having lived with 6 month winters for well over 14 years of my life (OK, so 6 months may be an exaggeration, but when you are living them, they seem even longer). 

It started with a rainy day and a temperature that just couldn't keep itself north of 1 celcius.  I picked up a girlfriend on my way to drop the MadHatter off at school and we both commented on how the weather felt just like it did before an Illinois winter storm.  Lo and behold, about an hour later - it was sleeting.  That wonderful snow/rain mixture that just makes you want to stay at home in bed until it all goes away.  And by goes away, I mean melts and not even the residual runoff water is visible.  Luckily, the sleet only lasted about 20 minutes and gave way to some of the biggest, wettest, fluffiest snowflakes I have ever seen in my life!

 It was gorgeous (if you could just get past the fact that it was August and snowing) and the girls, the dog and I had a blast playing outside in it.

It lasted for 4 1/2 hours.  Long enough to coat everything in about an inch of pure whiteness.  Long enough for me to get a taste, and remember that I don't want to be in the middle of winter right now.  My body is telling me that I should be in the Northern Hemisphere soaking up sun in August.  It just isn't built for two winters in a row without a summer thrown in.  So today I am off to the Caribbean for a vacation with the family.  Great timing, if I do say so myself.  See you guys in two weeks!!!

Death of un Cartero...

Something has been bothering me the entire time I have been here in Santiago (about four months now).  Actually, more than one thing has been on my mind, but this one pops into my head every time I drive over the mail that has been delivered that day.  You see, I don't have a mailbox.  And I have no zip code.  My address is similar to the one I had in the US, as there is a street and a number, but they are in opposite order.  My city is Santiago but that isn't really the important part.  The part that gets my mail here is my barrio - or rather the exact neighborhood of the metropolitan city that is Santiago that I live in.  It just seems so...different.  Not that this surprises me.  Everything in Chile is different, even if it is the same.  So, how does my mail arrive and  who delivers it?  Every once in awhile I catch someone throwing mail through my front gate, and it is always someone new.  A guy on a moped that has a box strapped to the back.  Or some regular Joe that has his i-Pod attached to his ears carrying a stack of bills.  Do they not have mail carriers?  Is there even a post office here in Chile?  And how come there is never any postage on any of the mail I receive?  Yes, these are the things that keep my mind busy...

So I asked my professora in class the other day - Is there un cartero in Chile (a postman)?  And the answer is yes and no.  There is a post office but it is for letters only (perhaps the random package too) but it isn't used much.  It seems to have gone the way of the Bee Gees, hip in its day and now just nostalgic.  The reason I keep seeing different people on mopeds throwing mail through my front gate is that most businesses have hired private delivery services to deliver their bills/notices/advertisements.  (This explains why there is never any postage on my mail!)  It has just become more cost effective for the gas/electric/credit card company to print out their billing statements,  hire a handful of couriers and send them on their way.  They can pay a courier $25 US for a days work (and don't hold me to that number, I made it up but I am guessing it is pretty accurate, if not high), and get 100 bills delivered, if not more.  No postage, no waiting.  The bills go out that day and are delivered the same day (which is a plus around here because you will get your gas bill on Tuesday and it is due on Friday).  And it is probably about half of what it would cost to send them by mail.  Pretty smart if you ask me.  Now if I could just get them to stop throwing it on my driveway, in the rain, right where I will drive over it without seeing it until I have already pulled in, so that it is a wet, soggy mess and I need to spend the next day drying it out before I can open it...

So, if you don't get mail from me for the next couple of years, you now know why.  I don't know where the post office is, or even if one exists here.  Do they even make stamps (I have not seen one, and I have gotten plenty of mail)?  And if I do somehow figure out how to mail it to you, it will still take 4-6 weeks to get it at your home.  I will be spending a lot of time on email and facebook keeping in touch.

Eavesdropping

I am in my office this morning, in my own little world, trying to concentrate on the paperwork I am working on completing, when Stinkerbell's voice breaks into my consciousness.  I stop what I am doing and listen for a minute.  Nani and Stinkerbell are working together to make the bed in my room next door.  They always keep up a chatter when they work together.  You really have no choice but to chatter when there is a 2 year old around.  You either talk to her or hear the same sentence over and over (and over) until you finally give in and talk to her...  So, I stop typing for a minute to really listen to what they are saying, and I realize that Nani is teaching Stinkerbell her vowels in Spanish.  Nani says "ah" and I hear a pipsqueak "ah" in return, "eh" and "eh" is echoed back a heartbeat later...and so on.  I smile and that smile is for many reasons.  First, I know that my daughter is safe and loved and happy and that always makes any mother smile.  And I smile because hearing her chipmunk voice always makes me smile.  But it makes my smile even wider when I realize that she is learning a new language in that voice, from a native speaker and doing it in a way that is so natural that she will never remember how much work it really was. Most of all though, I smile because it takes me back to my childhood and how I spent my days the same way she is right now.  Working alongside my Nani, loving every minute of it and learning a second language without even trying.

Learning spanish was one of the reasons that B and I decided to become expats.  Not the only one, but it did rank pretty far up the list, probably higher up the list than most families would put it.  Our reasoning is this: B's family is from South America, so more than half of the girls' extended family speaks Spanish as a first, and sometimes only, language.  We just couldn't pass up the opportunity to have them become fluent at such young ages (trust me, it gets a lot harder when you are in your 30's).  We are adamant that both girls will leave here years from now thinking they were born speaking both languages   We already have a head start.  B has always spoken to the girls in Spanish exclusively while I speak to them in English.  They understand everything said to them in either language, though they have always only spoken in English.  Now, we just need to get them speaking Spanish.  With that in mind, we knew we wanted to put MadHatter in a Spanish speaking pre-school since she would be forced to understand AND speak.  Hmmmm, it was a good thought but try finding a pre-school in Santiago that isn't English immersion!  It makes sense.  Everyone here wants their kids to be bilingual too...We just have opposite language needs.

We did end up finding a great place for MadHatter.  Mostly Spanish speaking with some English lessons during the day.  We are still in a bit of a quandary about what to do when she hits Kindergarten a year from now (or 2 depending on if we use U.S. based schools or Chilean as their years start exactly 6 months apart and have different age cutoffs). I have a couple of months to make the final choice but it is daunting.  You want the best for your children, but what is the best?  Would it be better for her to become fluent first and then go to the best school for academics, or is it better to sacrifice fluency for better academics?   I'll keep you posted on our decision.

As for Stinkerbell, I don't think fluency will be a problem.  I was exactly the same age as she is when I moved to Central America, and I learned both languages concurrently.  I was fluent in both well before I started school, thanks in a large part to my Nana.  And my mom, who let me spend a lot of time with her so I could pick up the language naturally.  (I surely wasn't going to pick it up from my mom - just as Stinkerbell won't be able to learn from me).  I don't worry about her becoming fluent, as much as I worry about her not keeping it up.  I am proof positive that if you don't keep up with it, you will forget it (and no, it is not somewhere in the back of my mind, hiding, just waiting for me to tap into it...it is GONE).  And having to start over is no fun...because it is time consuming, and it is frustrating that you already did this once, and you end up with a Spanglish Accent.

Happy Birthday to Me!

It is only fitting that since my last two posts were Happy Birthday posts, that I should follow it with another.  A perfect trifecta of birthday happiness.  Fittingly, I love birthday's.  Getting older doesn't bother me, in fact I look forward to it (when you think about what it means if you are not getting older, another year just doesn't seem so bad).  I didn't have a problem with 30, a big turning point in most people's lives.  For me, it just meant I didn't have to be in my 20's anymore - a decade that seemed to have less angst than my teens, but I still didn't know who I was or who I wanted to be, and that caused its own angst.  I thought that turning 30 would magically solve that problem.  It didn't.  It still took me a few more years to figure out that sense of self but figure it out I did, and it has worked out nicely for me since.  35 was not a big deal, nor was 36.  Though it seemed to be a big deal to others because I kept getting asked, "Doesn't it bother you that you are now closer to 40 than you are to 30"?  Uh, no, should it?  Does it bother you that I am closer to 40 than I was yesterday?  I don't mind putting a bit of space between myself and the girl I was at 20, the young woman who thought she knew everything at 25, and the woman who knew she didn't know anything at 30.  Finally, at around 35, I realized that I didn't have to know everything and I didn't have to try to have it all figured out.  I just had to know who I was, what I wanted to be and what I wanted to stand for (or not stand for as it may be).  The rest of the world just had to accept that this is who I was and if it wasn't enough or they didn't like it, well then, that was their loss.

I don't know if it was a coincidence that 35 was also the year that I became a mother for the first time, but I doubt it.  I don't believe in coincidences very much.  I knew that I had to know myself, inside and out, warts and all, before I could even begin to take on the task of shaping another human being into being a loving, caring, compassionate, brilliantly shining star. (And she is all of that and more - but it really doesn't have much to do with me after all - she just is a natural at it).  So, 35 and 36 were a sleep deprived blur.  Ditto to 37.  Stinkerbell came along just 3 weeks before I turned 36, so I really didn't sleep until I turned 38.  Yesterday I celebrated number 39.  A number that to some starts a countdown on the final 364 days of their youth.  A final year of being able to be lumped in with the younger crowd, because 40 means middle aged, right?  A time where you have more in common with your parents, than with a college student (which in my case tend to be about the same number of years older, and younger, than I).  Not for me.  For me I hope that I am just starting the best years.  The years where when I speak, the words I say carry some weight because I have been there, and I have lived through it.  That when someone asks me a question about life, I have lived enough in my years to be able to provide a thoughtful answer, culled from experience, not guessing.  It means that I have earned the lines on my face.  They are there because I have laughed loudly and laughed often.  And I plan to keep creating new lines over the next 364 days.  And when the clock turns over on that last day of 39, I will gladly welcome 40. Open arms, a huge smile and a what took you so long to get here because this is the time of my life that I feel most comfortable in my skin.  And I wouldn't trade that for smooth skin and my unknowing youth for anything

Happy Birthday America

The Fourth of July is a big holiday.  Whether you use the day to commemorate the birth of a country, or to remember all of the men and women who have fought for our right to live in freedom, or if you simply use the day off to eat BBQ'd food, drink cold beer and spend time with family, it is a celebration...of life, our liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  For our family, this years celebration was a day early, since the 4th fell on Monday and for some reason Chile didn't deem it a national holiday and give us the day off...Friends of ours invited us to join them, and a couple of hundred other Gringo's, at a restobar in Providencia, and we thought it was the perfect way to celebrate.  I could hang out with a few other American's and speak English in public without being looked at funny (which has more to do with how tall I am and how blonde I am, than with my English).  B got to watch the America's Cup.  The girls got to play in a restaurant, which is not something we would usually let them do.  We spent a couple of hours eating hamburgers, drinking beer and enjoying good company.  I did miss the fireworks, and so did MadHatter (they are her favorite part of the day) but overall it was a great celebration.  Thousands of miles from the United States, but suddenly, for a couple of hours, it didn't seem so far away.  In fact, I felt like I was home.