Between the dog, the kids, my sister and Jeremy in town, and Josh taking several days of vacation I haven’t made time to blog. What we’ve done hasn’t been particularly adventurous (except for eating out with a squirrely two year old) or exotic (except for our Iftar feast in the tent at the Gulf Hotel), but we’ve had a great week.
Tomorrow Josh goes back to work, Wendy and Jeremy leave, and the kids and I will try to get back on track in the remaining seven days until school starts. We’ll have new routines to learn, an earlier start to school, an extra creature to add to the mix, and no Lucy to help out. I also just realized that since we don’t have our shipment I have none of their lunch boxes, school supplies, normal clothes and shoes, and probably a number of other “necessary” items. At least I’m good at improvising and I have 7 days to “make it work.”
A short recap of what has gone on this week: kinect tournaments, swimming in our backyard pool, visits to base (for movies and food), drives around the island to check out both the beauty and the graffiti, an evening at Al Bandar resort for swimming, eating, and competitive water bottle finding, a trip to the mall for people watching, sweatshirt buying (the A/C here is freezing!), and Turkish food, staying up late and sleeping in (except for those on dog/kid duty), and lots of eating out at our favorite restaurants. Ramadan Kareem! (Happy Ramadan)
Oh, you didn’t know he was gone? Good. Then I did my part to help keep America safe. Just kidding, he was at a conference in Germany for a week. The secrecy about his departure was more for our safety than yours. Last weekend we moved in to our house, got the dog, and he left about 12 hours later. That probably explains the frantic tone of some of my posts last week.
But now he’s home and I have another body to add to our dog sitting/Camille sitting rotation. Whew! On the downside, he brought home these wooden swords that have not added to the state of peace and quiet that I’m hoping to attain in our home. (I’ve always liked to make goals that are impossible to reach.)
So it’s been bash! clack! and clatter! since he walked in the door. Throw in a little, “Mom! He’s got my sword because mine is the one with gold colored screws and his had silver ones!” and you’ve got the picture.
Like a good dad, Josh brought his daughter home something special. Unfortunately after she put her dress on, she went digging through his suitcase asking, “Daddy? Where my sword?” Oops. Thankfully she has kind older brothers who are happy to include her in their games of joust.
She is a menace with a wooden stick — look out! I think she looks like a peasant woman going off to fight in a local battle.
While Josh was gone, we had a visitor — this teeny tiny lizard that the boys found swimming in our pool. They scooped him out and let him dry off on the pool deck.
Can you believe how small he is compared to Calvin’s finger?
Camille’s dog love has not waned.
The only time he has any peace is while she’s eating (and then he wants to be close to her) and when she’s going to sleep. As tiring as the week was with a new pet and getting used to a new house, the boys were a big help when they weren’t fighting or complaining.
This is her happy place. As close as she can be — breathing the same air.
Petting him and touching his ears.
Using him as a pillow
And resting on him while watching the Olympics. He may be named Micah, but he has the patience of Job.
The prevailing thought running through my mind for about 48 hours this week was, “I’ve made a huge mistake.” Not just the dog — the decision to have children, living overseas, all the hours I spent tanning as a teenager . . . you name it, I could find a reason to regret it.
For starters, I knew that I would be taking care of the dog. I didn’t buy into any hollow promises of, “We’ll do everything!” or make them sign any weird contracts (ask Dave and Pam about that one), I knew that as a mom I’d be cleaning up after the dog the same way I clean up after all of them. Heck, they can’t even remember to flush the toilet half the time, I’m not expecting them to take full responsibility for a living creature. But I didn’t think my full time job as Dog Mother would start on day two. I figured I’d get at least seven days before the novelty wore off. I agree, it is hot outside, but the dog still has to be walked, he’s going to poop and it has to be picked up and thrown away, and I can’t watch the dog, the toddler who loves to poke at the dog’s eyes and play with his ears every time I turn my back, and feed starving children all at the same time. I’m awesome, but I’m not super-human.
And you would think the food thing would be easier now that we’re in a house. It would be, except none of our stuff is here so the kitchen (and its cupboards) are bare. At least in the hotel we had dishes, silverware, pots and pans and basic cooking essentials so even though I never felt like cooking, it was possible. Now we’re all sick of eating out and want to eat at home, but it’s not so easy to improvise a pot.
We went for second best and got take out from the base cafeteria the other night — BBQed chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I stopped at the base grocery store (more like a big mini-mart) and bought paper plates, bowls, paper towels and a few other things so we could eat in style. I got home to find that the plastic silverware that we brought over from the hotel had all mysteriously been thrown away so we had no utensils to eat with. Eating mashed potatoes and gravy using our fingers was not the dinner I expected, but at least we were eating around our own kitchen table. I also discovered it’s really hard to drink cereal out of a bowl because the milk drains out leaving the cereal behind . . . scraping the saturated Os into my mouth with my fingers is not my favorite way to eat Cheerios.
So I went and bought real silverware, 6 plates, 6 bowls and 6 cups. I also threw in a can opener, a cutting board, a cheap knife, and a glass storage bowl with a lid that could go in the microwave. I’m still looking for a saucepan. This is how I end up with 4 can openers: we move, our stuff doesn’t arrive, I get frustrated and buy something to hold me over until my good stuff arrives. This time I thought I was being smart by mailing my good knives to myself so they’d get here before my shipment and I wouldn’t have to buy a cheap knife. Six weeks later that box still hasn’t arrived. Time to start browsing Williams-Sonoma.com for replacements.
Things here have been rather chaotic this week. But I think (really, really hope) things are looking up. While I wanted to run away from my children a few days ago, last night they really increased their effort (after I threw a screaming fit and their dad told them to stop behaving like jackasses). I took away electronics for a few days so they’d have one less thing to fight about and last night after we all cleaned the house they raced each other around the living room (since we can’t watch the Olympics they have to invent their own events). Nervous dog is getting less nervous all the time and surprisingly he still likes Camille, even though she follows him like a pest every minute of the day.
You know how people say you should get a dog to prepare for having kids? I’ve always told people that having a puppy is way harder than a baby. A puppy in the house is like taking care of a two year old without a diaper. Unfortunately, I already have one of those. Thankfully, Micah seems a little more like a 4 year old. We still have to watch him closely, but he’s not a tornado of destruction and pee — so far. I’m still waiting for his true personality to unfold as he gets more and more comfortable being at our house.
The hardest part about having a dog this time is the toddler. We’ve never added a dog when we had little kids, they were always used to having one in the house from the day they came home from the hospital. But Camille seems to think that this new creature is here specifically for her enjoyment; finally someone who is lower than her on the totem pole. She has taken her new job as big sister very seriously and spends all day trying to get close to the dog, pet the dog, tell the dog what to do, and play with his toys. I spend all day saying, “Get away from the dog,” “Get out of the dog’s face,” “Give the poor dog some space,” and “Camille, enough!”
Good thing Micah has been a good sport about all of this so far. He is so sweet and a big baby. He is only 7 months and spent at least 4 of them at the shelter, maybe more. He’s good with people — very gentle, not mouthy, doesn’t jump up, lies down at our feet when we’re sitting around in the living room, but we can tell he doesn’t have much life experience. He’s scared of our stairs (won’t go up them), scared of the different tile in the kitchen (won’t go in there), scared of the bath (loud water sounds/splashing), pulls like crazy on the leash (we knew this from walking him at the shelter), and has no idea what to do with toys or treats.
The first day he wouldn’t eat or drink out of his food bowls, so I hand fed him some kibble. I tried to get him interested in some toys, but he only sniffed at them. I even slathered peanut butter inside the chew toy, but he turned away. What am I going to do with a dog that doesn’t live for food?!
Since then, I’ve figured out that he doesn’t like to eat when he’s stressed, not even treats. I throw good stuff in his crate when we go out and we come home to find them uneaten. Poor guy. But he’s finally figured out the magic of peanut butter and has been chewing away at the bone this afternoon while sitting at my feet. He’s still not a chow hound, but maybe that will change as he gets more comfortable. It’s hard finding things to entertain him since he does NOT want to go outside during the day, and he eyes the different toys with suspicion. He’s not crazy or running around the house (thank God!), so maybe he’s happy just lying on the floor?
He’s only had one accident in the house when the boys were not closely watching him. They took him out in the morning, but he didn’t go, so they brought him back inside (dog novices). I was still upstairs sleeping with Camille. He wants to hurry up and get out of the heat so he has to be “encouraged” to go. Today I sat on a rock outside in the yard and ignored him as he tried to pull toward the house and whimpered to go back in the A/C. I was dripping with sweat, but figured I could wait him out.
I was successful, but then he showed me by stepping in it and tracking it back in the house (the hose out front doesn’t work so I tried to open the front door to call for baby wipes and he wiggled right past me to get into the cold air). Good thing we have tile floors downstairs.
He’s made huge strides in the past 24 hours — he’s tiptoed into the kitchen a few times, has figured out that plush squeaky toys are fun to carry around in his mouth, and he’s been drinking out of his water bowl freely. We have been trying to give him a good walk at night since that’s his only chance for any real exercise. Last night we walked from our house to Costa Coffee which isn’t too far away, but it was so humid out we were all dripping by the time we arrived. Thankfully this photo is grainy or you’d be able to see all the beads of sweat on our faces. It wasn’t that hot — if you like walking through the steam room at the spa.
waiting outside while the other two boys get our drinks
We are more than 1/2 way through the month of Ramadan — praise God! Next year, I’m going on vacation. No, I’m not fasting, but the food, drink and dress restrictions basically confine us to our house during the day. It’s much too hot to be outside (even the dog resists going out for potty breaks), especially without food or water. We have been able to go to friends’ houses (now that we’ve made a few) and that helps break up the monotony of the days, but in general the boys lie around watching Netflix on the iPad and I eat chocolate in bed. Believe me, it gets old.
We were at church the other day (a different church, not the dual worship one) and Calvin had a bottle of water that he started drinking out of as we were standing around before service began. One of the pastors saw him and joked, “Is this a Ramadan free zone?” I replied, “It better be!” and we laughed.
Later in the service they served communion and I realized how different the Christian faith is in this area. While Muslims are fasting all day for these 30 days, I go to church and am told, “Eat! Drink! This is my body, broken for you!” God isn’t requiring me to fast to earn his approval . . . he’s the one providing the food and drink through his own sacrifice.
Instead of being irritated that their religion is impinging on my freedom, I should be feeling compassion for those that haven’t discovered that we can “taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8)
