September 2012 – robinchartier

One reason why I’m tired . . .

Is this thing taking up my entire bed. Feet in my face, sprawled spread-eagle, she has made herself at home in my bed.

I got up this morning to let the dog out and realized that I had only a small sliver of space between me and the edge of the bed. Josh was in exactly the same situation on the other side.

Between that one and this one, it’s a full house at night. Party till midnight (yes, she does), wake up at 7? I don’t know how she does it.

So instead of writing about our water woes this afternoon, I took a nap. By myself.

It’s not all bad

It was another crazy day today that involved pipes bursting in our house, water all over my bathroom, living room, roof, and front yard and sitting around the house watching repairmen instead of going to church, but sometimes you just have to laugh and carry on.

I may tell that story tomorrow — it all started with being attacked by my shower head, but tonight I’m curling up with the dog and the girl and watching Survivor (yes, the one with Blair from Facts of Life — same as you’re seeing in the US).

Yesterday was a rough day, but I crawled into bed at 6:30 and pretended that I didn’t have any kids and didn’t live in Bahrain and Josh took over for the rest of the night. He could tell I was walking the tightrope between sanity and breaking with reality and kept his distance from the very angry lady in our bedroom.

I woke up today with a better outlook . . . nothing has changed except what’s inside my head. If I work on that part, things will be fine here. (I think. I hope.)

jeepers, creepers

If you’re Facebook friends with me, you may have seen the other day when I posted that twice now the boys have had people ask if Micah was for sale when they were out walking him.

In case you missed it, the short version is that Calvin was walking the dog around the dirt lot by our house when a guy pulled up in a sedan and asked if Micah was for sale and offered 100BD for him. Calvin said no and kept walking, even when the guy kept asking. Then this past week, Carter was walking the dog in the same area and a guy in a van stopped, also wanting to buy the dog and when Carter told him “No,” persisted, “Why? Do you like him?”

Knowing what I know about here, it set off all of my mom alerts: First of all, our dog is not cute. He’s a scrawny houndish thing that wouldn’t win any awards for either beauty or obedience. Second, dogs are unclean — no “good” Muslim is going to have a dog in their house. Third, in this male-centric culture, trafficking and prostitution of young boys is much more prevalent than girls and is a problem in Bahrain in particular. It also pinged my radar because both times it happened when a boy was by himself around the corner from our house. It has never happened to me (like I said in a previous post, most people avoid me like the plague when I walk the dog) and it has never happened when they walk the dog in pairs (99.5% of the time).

But before I jumped to conclusions, I wanted to run it by some people who are local, who would know if there was something cultural that I was missing in the exchanges between these strangers and my boys. The answer came back today: “These are very bad men who are looking to kidnap boys.” Okay then . . . where is my ticket back to Muscat?

***I’m under no illusions that my kids are “safe” anywhere, but in general children are well regarded and safe in the Middle East. One of the things we have loved about our travels in the region is that everywhere we’ve been, people have loved our children, been friendly to them, and accepted them. I had heard rumors of child trafficking (boys) here, but it’s disgusting to see that is really is right here. It’s disgusting that it’s anywhere, but I think you know what I mean.

I’m thankful for the very clear warning that I was given and that I now have the information to make different choices in the future. I’m also able to have direct talks with the boys and give them further instructions on how to be alert and aware of their personal safety. And of course, prayers are always welcome.

I give up. I hate it here in this country full of bad drivers and %$@! pedophiles. Bahrain broke me.

Are you sick of dates yet?

Meelie and I were out of milk so we walked over to the Cold Store. My little shopper with her bag ready to go.

We picked up some juice and bananas and after dropping off the milk at home, headed over to the park. It’s the first time we’ve been since moving here, since it’s been too hot until now. It’s still too hot, but we were getting sick of staring at the same cement walls all day.

It happened to be date harvest day at the park. I don’t know who owns the dates, or who is in charge of deciding when to cut them down, but there was a crew of 3 guys (all barefoot) with climbing belts and curved knives cutting down all the bunches of dates from 20+ trees.

They fell in piles on the ground under the trees — thousands of dates

She is wise to the ways of Middle Eastern play — testing the slide to see if it’s too hot before she goes down.

I don’t know why they would choose to cut them down now, when there are still so many that are unripe (the brown ones are what we think of as dates — the yellow ones are chalky and unripe).

Not ready yet

It was raining dates!

Later we saw unripe or “fresh” dates for sale at the grocery store, still on their branches. Some people love them this way, but I don’t understand why. You might as well eat a green banana, ick!

I don’t see how I could possibly have any more date stories/photos/information to share — at least until next year . . .

Rip van Robin

I’ve fallen asleep before 10 the past two nights and still needed a nap yesterday. :yawn: I can’t figure out why I’m so tired until I realize that as I’m rescuing a shoe from the dog’s mouth, Camille is trying to brush her teeth with diaper rash cream. Or as I’m distracted by the dog getting into the trash, Camille takes advantage and turns the bidet into her personal bathtub — fully clothed. It’s a never ending circle of dumb and dumber . . . if the dog isn’t chewing on it, Camille is scribbling on it. If I didn’t have Josie around to clean while I’m in charge of inmate supervision (obviously not doing a very good job of it) I would weep.

Add to that the realization the other day that we have lived in 4 different countries in less than 2 years (US/Egypt/Oman/Bahrain) and I guess it makes sense that I’d be a wee bit tired. I guess I can stop being worried that something’s wrong with me and embrace the fatigue. It’s not like I have a choi . . .

Ok, then. In between naps and sleep what have we been doing?

Two of the boys were playing at a friend’s house over the weekend so we took the other two for ice cream.

Really big ice creams since they were buy one, get one with coupons from our Entertainer book. (Yes, they have those here too!)

Meelie had dark chocolate and raspberry with fresh raspberries (mama’s choice) and Calvin had coffee/vanilla with cookie dough (I advised Heath Bar as a mix in, but he ignored my expertise).

He liked it anyway.

Today Camille and I headed to the local grocery store. We saw another accident on the way — can you see the kids bouncing around inside the car without carseats or seat belts? Thankfully, they looked to be unharmed. Right after I took this, the car started smoking/steaming — not pretty.

Since Josh was gone over Carter’s birthday, we’re having a make-up birthday breakfast for dinner tonight. Pancakes, whipped cream, bacon, etc.

She’s “helping.”

I bought peaches at the store and made some peach sauce to go on the pancakes (sugar, vanilla, cinnamon).

A little doggie massage . . .

Now two of the boys are home from school and working on homework (oh gosh, it is painful!). Then we’re off to brave the traffic to pick Calvin up from basketball practice. After dinner we’ll probably walk the dog and herd everyone to bed. Have to get lots of rest so I can get up and do it all over again tomorrow . . .