The kids next door

Our neighbors have goats.  You might think that this is quaint or pastoral or something else along those lines.  I might think the same thing too, if I didn’t already have kids, err children, of my own.  The first night in our apartment I woke up to hear this plaintive yell.  It sounded like, “Aaagghhh, Daaaaad!”.  Now, if it hadn’t been in the middle of the night I might have stopped to wonder why one of our kids was calling for Husband Dear instead of me.  I’m usually the middle of the night person of choice—might be because, as much as I love that man, trying to wake up Husband Dear in the middle of the night is a lot like trying to wake up a brick…Anyway, I digress, a few steps into my stumbling into one of our children’s rooms and I realize, “Those aren’t my kids—it’s the goats next door.”  Now tell me, how many times do you get to say that to yourself?  Honestly, when you live here, you can say that to yourself nearly every day, at varying hours of the day (night) until you begin to feel a little crazy.  Have I mentioned how much I value sleep?  That’s why earlier today when I commented on the delicious grilling smell coming from outside and Husband dear informed me that he had seen one less goat next door, I didn’t feel too bad.

Did you know...

You can catch (and kill) more ants with honey?  Ask me how I know this.  Well, I have this love/hate relationship with ants—love to hate them.  Ants seem to follow me no matter where I live—perhaps this is an indication of my housekeeping abilities?  But I prefer to think of it as the ubiquitous problem/nature of ants.  Anyway, before we left for our month-long trip we had been battling ants.  I’ve trained the children to kill them (sorry if this offends sensibilities, but if it does I’m gonna bet you haven’t had the same ant experiences as me).  Anyway, we even came up with a tape-method (they squish the ants with tape and then they can see how many they are able to catch—effective and educational).  Needless to say before we left for our trip we cleaned extra thoroughly, put out ant poison, and got rid of all food that was opened and could be invaded by the ants—except for the honey.  I thought about putting it in the fridge, but cleaned the jar well and made sure the lid was on tight and figured it would be alright.  Fast forward one month.  We return and, hallelujah, there are no ants anywhere!  I figured the ant poison and lack of food/water must have done the trick.  Then I decided to make glazed chicken.  I poured the honey into the pan and discovered a whole colony that had perished in the jar—I only wish I had taken a picture, I’ve never seen anything like it!  Honeyed ants—I’m sure that’s a delicacy somewhere, right?

Not Again...

What is it with us and cars lately?  New vehicle, different problem, sidelined again.  We’ve been visiting friends in the capital lately, but at last it was time to head back.  Our family had been on the road for about a month now so we were really looking forward to getting back to our own place.  About an hour into our trip, husband dear makes a noise and a fast maneuver to the shoulder.  It looked like Christmas on our dashboard, all the red lights were lit up and blinking. Husband dear exits the vehicle, lifts the hood and diagnosis the problem this time.  A belt, probably the serpentine belt (who knew car parts had such descriptive names?) had come loose, which rendered our vehicle undriveable and me very unhappy.  I cried for a minute—more from frustration than anything, “how come, why us again?”  Thankfully my pity party was unobserved by the children and short-lived.  A couple of deep breaths later, and husband dear’s well-timed jokes and I could acknowledge that this perhaps was not the end of the world, just a diversion.  The kids finished watching their show on the computer under the shade of several trees that just happened to be growing off the shoulder right where our car broke.   A breeze picked up and they started building things from the rocks, rolling in the dirt and generally having a great time—oblivious to our obvious departure from the planned route and schedule.  As I watched my children I recognized the joy of living in the moment, of being thankful for the gift sometimes hidden away in unplanned detours and forced stops.  And of course you know I can say all this, because we also are blessed with friends who we can call to come and rescue us, err pick us up, from our tiresome car troubles, err unplanned stops.  What can I say?  I’m a work in progress. =)

A few highlights

One of the perks of visiting some friends: a semi-private swimming pool.  Trust me, in this dusty, dry, hot, hot land it is a welcome place.  The water is always warm, but it is wet and has been a source of much fun for all of us.  Our son is now swimming the length of the pool.  Eldest daughter, is also swimming, and then forgetting she knows how to swim when she comes up for air and realizes she can’t touch—seems like a great life metaphor.  And then our youngest daughter splashes happily on the steps and occasionally jumps into the water without fair warning—also another great life metaphor.  Mainly though it has been much fun.  Learning to swim, dive, float, and splash—I will be sad to leave it.

Angry Birds

Thank you Chris, Aunt Paige, and Uncle Chuck, my three children and my husband now have a new obsession.  Really I do not blame you, just the ipad you innocently used to show this game to them.  I must confess that even I have spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to get the blasted bird to hit the pigs.  Those nefarious prison pigs who stole those innocent but vengeful birds’ eggs—I mean honestly I cannot make this stuff up.  It would be one thing if all they did was ask to play this new game, but no, they tell every possible person they meet (who understands English) about “Angry Birds.”  Our son draws pictures of the scenes from the game and then makes signs that say--in large letters-- “I want to play Angry Birds.”  If you do not believe me, as to the addictive qualities of this game, give it a whirl—you can play on or offline.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.  As an aside, husband dear, wants me to assure you that he has conquered his addiction i.e. he has the high score on all the levels--for now anyway…

To Rose, wherever you may be

The other night I had a need for a sweet treat.  A need, but not really the desire to full-on make something.  I looked around at the odds and ends I had to use up and it came to me:  Rose.  You see, I’ve had this recipe floating around in my collection of recipes ever since high school and it’s called quite simply Rose (for my mom’s coworker who shared the original recipe).  I’ve carried this recipe around for years, but I haven’t made it.  I remembered it being deliciously rich and chocolately and easy; and for some reason it just remained overlooked, perhaps because it was so unassumingly simple.  Anyway, I decided it was time to use the recipe and I began looking for it among my collection and realized I had purged it before we moved.  Because, “I never make this anyway and I’m sure I can remember this recipe it’s so easy…”  And now I needed it and it wasn’t there.  I could see my mom’s handwriting, I could picture the finished product, but could I duplicate it without the instructions? 

I know it seems crazy, but I’ve been a little dubious about doing things from memory of late.  Maybe it’s because we’re in a new land, new language and I can’t quite seem to retain things the way I used to do (like recall a newly “learned” word for even five minutes), or maybe it’s because our three year old is beating the pants off of me every time we play Memory together, or maybe…but no, I just pushed my hesitations to the side and said to myself, “Rose, this one’s for you.” =)  

Now, I’m still not sure if I got it exactly right, but we think it tastes pretty darn good. Here’s my version if any of you are feeling unsure of yourselves and need a shot in the arm or a hug around the waist that stays there =)…just share, ok?

Here it is:

Rose

Cookie crust:  Crumble up your favorite cookies for crust (as I recall the original used graham crackers—we cannot find those easily here so I used spice cookies and they were delicious).  Add enough melted butter to make crumbs wet and then press into bottom of dish (I used a pie plate).  Bake for a few minutes at 350 or so, or skip to next part (it's a very forgiving recipe!).

Filling:  add layer of chocolate chips to crust, after add a layer of sweetened flaked coconut, and then pour sweetened condensed milk over top (I used half of a can for the pie dish).

That’s it.   Bake for 30 minutes (I think) or until the coconut looks nicely browned.  Enjoy warm.  And give thanks for the Rose’s of the world who selflessly share delicious confidence boosters.

What am I going to do

With this one?

She is four going on fourteen.  She is destined for leadership--perhaps dictatorship.  She is a little mama, always trying to take care of others (or tell them what to do), but beneath it is a sweetness.  She really does want others to be happy in her care.  She can talk and talk and talk and make up songs on the fly.  I hear myself, I see myself in miniature sometimes.  But then there is some of her father to balance it all.  She often reminds me that she wants to take pictures like Daddy, because she loves to take pictures like him.  She actually took this one on our trip.  And I believe she helped with this one too, because, "Tai wanted a picture of the sky where we live--I promised him that I would take a picture of the sky."

Lately she's been planning her birthday--it's still three months away.  Daily we talk about what cake she will have, maybe what presents--I thought it just fun and games, a way to pass the time, till she told some friends today what they could bring to her party (in three months), yikes!  She's also planning on inviting our friends' neighbor's cat.  Her father pointed out that it is somewhat impolite to invite people's pets and not the actual people to a party, to which she replied that she intended on inviting the people too she just didn't know their names yet.  Now is that advance planning, or what?  Look out world is all I've got to say!  

Some recent pictures...

Here's a couple more from our recent trip--I tried to get one with all three looking at me, but it was too bright, oh well!

Crayola crayons, black beans and tortillas

I don’t know about you but there are some things that are crucial to a family’s happiness.  Things you take for granted until you can’t find them.  In our family these three items are vital.  Every day, every day, one or more of my children colors and the coloring items of choice are crayons.  Call me crazy but I have a definite opinion on crayons—they are not all created equal.  There are Crayola crayons and then there are paltry wax imitations of Crayola that smear and smudge across the page and fingers and clothes and...you see why I have a definite opinion here?  But for some odd reason I cannot find Crayola crayons here (I’ve found markers and colored pencils of that brand but, alas, no crayons).  However, I do not despair because I know of at least one person who has successfully found them here and so I press on; and I will not rest till I find every box this country has to offer and buy them up so I will never have to search again—perhaps this is going too far?  But honestly it’s the little things sometimes…and while I’m on a rant (call it culture stress, whatever) what does this place have against black beans????  I mean, I can find every other legume known to man, canned or dried, but black beans hardly!  I guess that’s not fair because I finally located them at a store in the capital city that caters to ex-pats and I stopped myself after I put 4 or 5 cans in the cart, but I’ll be back…The only shining part of this rant comes with the third hard to find item:  tortillas.  I’m sure I need hardly explain the role of tortillas in our diet after you read about the black beans.  But necessity is the mother of invention and here is something I can put some effort into and produce myself; and did you know they are totally worth the trouble of making?  I kid you not, go to www.food.com look up the homemade tortilla recipe and give it a whirl they are awesome (I used butter instead of shortening and I think they were all the better for it!).  There, I feel better now—think I’ll go have some ice cream, here at least we have suffered no losses! =)

She's runnin' hot...again

Mental note to self, always have car checked out thoroughly before driving hours and hours through the desert.  On the way down through the desert, I started thinking about how hot, how empty this place was and how horrible it would be to be stranded in the midst of it.  Then about an hour from our destination the air conditioner stopped working—not cool, no pun intended.  There was nothing to do but to keep pushing forward and pray that we would make it quickly.  It took a few minutes for the kids to notice there was no cold air, but they were really troopers and hung in there and we all made it.  We had the car fixed and checked out so as not to repeat this unfortunate incident on the return trip.  All looked well and seemed to be working fine on the way back, until we were about two hours away from our city.  All of the sudden our car was hot again, not the air but the actual car.  We pulled off, prayed, poured water on the engine, added oil and started again.  Thankfully we had reached the first big city after the desert—thanks be to God for looking after us!  Nothing seemed to be working, so we inched our way to a car shop to discover that the radiator cap was old and allowing air into the radiator, allowing the coolant to boil and the car to overheat.  Phew!  Thankfully we were travelling with some friends so we were able to rearrange and get me and the kids back while husband dear got to figure this out and expand his ever-growing knowledge base!    

Strangers on the beach

During our trip, we actually got to see and play in the Ocean.  It was the most refreshing moment after endless desert to go into the cool water and play with our children.  The beach was completely ours—something as a Florida girl I find really strange at this time of year.  Well, I guess I should say the beach was almost completely ours, because we were not actually alone.   In the midst of building a sand castle I looked up to see hundreds of brown eyes staring inquisitively at us.  After all, this was their beach, and they were not used to seeing people come and play here.  They hung back watching us, one of them even started lounging next to our car, perhaps they were hoping for some food?  Camels.  On the beach, playing in the ocean—who knew?  Life here is never dull!

Boy meets camel

Our eldest son loves animals.  I mean loves them.  He knows more about animals at six years of age then I’ll probably ever know (and I’m not saying how long I’ve had to learn about them!).  One of the sweetest things being here has been watching my children discover their new world on this side of the ocean.  One of the clearest distinctions between where we used to live and where we live now for our son is the new animals he’s seeing.  He’s had a running camel count ever since we arrived, but after our trip south he has now officially lost count, as have we.  Camels everywhere of varying hues and sizes surrounded us as we drove by them.  But then one day we drove out to a desert camp and at last our boy met them.  It was really sweet.  I mean we all enjoyed getting up close and seeing them—something about seeing something you have never seen before (in its natural habitat) that makes you feel small and new again.  The girls giggled and stood back from the pen where the larger camels were gathered, but then from nowhere it seemed a little baby camel wandered up and started nuzzling him (“giving him kisses” as he said).  It was perfect.

Pit Stop

So, our family is traveling—seeing a little bit of our new country.  Our travels required us to go several hours through the desert.  As an aside, I will never complain about driving I-16 through Georgia again. 

Hours of endless sand—it is awesome, but it can make you feel so small and also sleepy.  But you’ll be happy to know I stayed awake the whole time while husband dear did the driving (I’m a team player =)).  Anyway, I’ve never really thought much about the words “pit stop.”  It just meant a break from the driving, time to grab something to eat, go to the bathroom, etc.  I now have a new appreciation for the term.  You see up until this point I’ve been relatively impressed with the facilities around here.  Sure they’re a little different, but almost always there’s been a western-style toilet in the mix.  But I guess I’ve only been to the facilities in stores and restaurants and not gas stations.  Enter the squatty-potty and the reason for the title of my blog.

 I’ve used squatty-potties before—no big deal once you get the hang of it.  However, it’s a different experience convincing our four and three year old girls that they aren’t that bad.  First of all there’s the logistics problem.  They’ve got to get their feet on the raised foot pads to be over the “potty” and then not touch anything because the floor is wet (no toilet paper only water to wash yourself).  Also, things are complicated by their clothing—I forgot to put them in dresses so I’ve got to help balance them, keep them from touching anything, keep their clothes out of the line of fire, hold the toilet paper (which I brought just in case) and coach them to, “Go ahead and go.”

Now it’s hard enough to go under these circumstances, but you add in a shy bladder, the heat, the smell, the line of people outside the door waiting to go, and the fact that I’m in their faces trying to help them--it’s the stuff future counseling sessions are made of…poor girls they did manage to go, but we may have to have a few pep talks before our next big trip.

Round About

The experts call it culture stress.  It’s the effect of living in an environment different from your own.  Sometimes people withdraw, sometimes they get angry—in short they begin to act and react differently than they normally would.  I’d say that husband dear and I have done fairly well preparing for and recognizing this stress.  After all, we have both lived for extended amounts of time in different cultures before.  But then we have never done it together, married, with three small children…and sometimes it can creep up on you--like the other night.  I, husband dear and our three lovely children had spent a delightful evening picnicking on the beach.  When we left it was late, we were tired and trying to find our way home. 

Before I continue you should know that I am, unfortunately, not that much of a help with directions and maps.  Thankfully, husband dear has a great sense of direction, normally, and can manage just fine without my help in this arena.  However, we’re in a new city, different country, and my husband’s navigation system is still being established, translation: we were a little lost.  Husband dear asks me to help with the map while he drives.  Our new country has few lights and many round-abouts, which personally I like because if you can’t figure out which direction you should go in you can just keep going around till you do.  Husband dear does not see it this way.  The down side to round-abouts is that it’s hard to do a quick U-turn because they are spaced fairly far apart. 

Long story short, we missed our road, comments were made, and we started arguing about whose fault it was and who was being unfair to whom, etc., etc.  Usually these kinds of squabbles are short-lived with us, but this one was not getting resolved.  Even after husband dear apologized I still wasn’t ready to let the argument go.  And then out of the back seat, my four year old starts to belt out a song she made up on the fly (I assume—I’ve never heard it before) and it goes something like this, “You can forgive anytime you want, all you have to do is forgive, you can forgive anytime you want…”

Talk about convicted!  What a blessing we do not face culture stress alone. =)