Month: August 2014

How many Bahrain electricians does it take to change a lightbulb?

Gotta make this quick because we’re in the last week of summer vacation and we’ve got a lot of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman to watch. I’m taking a short hiatus from Bones and introducing Camille to the wonderful world of feminism, rustic medical practices, and Sully. It turns out Carter is a huge fan too. Good times.

Last week I turned on the lights in the upstairs living room and sparks flew, blowing 3 halogen bulbs at once. The first set of ceiling bulbs lasted at least 18 months, this set, barely six. They are lights with special fixtures and bulbs that require a ladder and possibly special tools to change, so I called the landlord and asked him to send a guy over to change the bulbs so we wouldn’t be completely in the dark. Surprisingly, a guy came the next day with a ladder and removed one of the bulbs so he could go buy replacements. Super fast service! I told him I was leaving the house, but he could come back later in the afternoon. He nodded so I hoped he understood my meaning, but he didn’t come back.

The next day I was out and I got a series of texts from my landlord saying the electrician was back and wanting to change the bulbs. Unfortunately I was going to be out of the house all day so he was out of luck. I told him I’d be sure to be home the following morning and he could come then, inshallah.

Waited all morning the next day, no lightbulb guy. Finally at 1:30 I texted the landlord and told him the guy didn’t come. He said something about the guy having to go to the hospital. Then he asked if the electrician could come on Thursday, but I wasn’t going to be home. Of course. I told him to forget about it until Sunday morning when either Josie or I would be there.

Sunday, bright and early the doorbell rings, waking Camille (of course). A brand new set of guys come in, with their ladder, to see which bulbs need to be replaced. Then they take one and leave to go buy replacements. What ever happened to guy #1 and his lightbulbs?

These guys actually did come back in an hour with replacements. So easy, yet so difficult at the same time. At least we have light — for now. I guess I can’t complain while watching Dr. Mike cut people open by candlelight.

an appreciative audience

I very rarely get to see the result of my writing. I create it, launch it, and then hope the baby bird flies. I love reading comments to various posts and every now and then I hear Josh laugh at night and it thrills me when his reply is, “Your blog,” in response to my question, “What’s so funny?”

When I was writing the post about Camille’s trip to the doctor, the boys were all home and I was perched at our kitchen counter. Carter was hanging over my shoulder, trying to read along. It’s bad enough having people read over my shoulder, but trying to write? Impossible. I told him to back off: “Give me 10 more minutes and then you can read to your heart’s content.”

I polished it up and turned the computer over to him. Two paragraphs in and he was laughing so hard he had to stop and wipe the tears from his eyes. Then he called for Calvin, “You have to come read this!” I didn’t even think that post was particularly funny.

The part about her meowing like a cat and refusing to talk especially set them off. And Caleb and I hopping on one foot in the doctor’s office? Cracked them up. 
It’s a great reminder of why I do what I do. It used to be that we were all together and shared experiences, but with them at school or camp all day, they miss a lot of the daily Camille Crazy. 
One more crazy Camille photo to add to the archives:
 She asked me the other night, “Does this look like a wiener?”
(I promise, we do not live in a house of hedonism!)

Mini-me

I took girlie to the doctor today because she has been having pains in one of her legs at night. I would normally write it off as growing pains, but Dr. Google said that generally growing pains are in both legs and I’ve read way too many blogs about kids fighting cancer to get rid of the nagging feeling that it’s something I need to get checked out, so off we went.

Since she just turned 4 she was “due” for a well child checkup. I don’t usually bother with those once they are beyond the age of 2 because I always feel like there’s more risk of picking up a nasty bug from going to the doctor than the benefit of getting a general checkup, but it made it easy to get an appointment. Camille asked if she would have to get any shots and since I’m all about honesty I told her that she might, but that we would go get ice cream afterward as long as she 
co-operated. 
I should have lied. 
See that teary, nervous face? The entire time we were at the medical clinic she swung between whimpering and nervous blubbering giggles. The corpsman said he couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. 

I even told her that no shots were ever given in that room (Truth. We have to go to the immunization clinic for shots) but it didn’t matter. She was wound up so tight none of it registered. 

At the well child visit they try to evaluate if your child is progressing normally. There was no way for them to tell when this is the face she gave in response to every single question.: What is your name? small mewing noise How old are you? whimper Can you scribble on this piece of paper for me? head down, bites on fingers

Caleb and I hopped around the room on one foot hoping she would copy us — she wouldn’t budge. (They wanted to check her coordination and balance.) You can’t make people hop. 

I told them she was “normal,” but I’m a bit doubtful of that myself. She’s tall and solid for her age (75% for both height and weight), but the coffee drinking, ballet dancing, song singing, movie watching, teenager-in-a-preschooler’s-body personality wasn’t on display today. 

She wasn’t any better when the doctor came in. She let her look in her ears, but wouldn’t move her legs or point to where it hurt, or answer any questions. When the doctor asked me to take off her leggings so she could check her joints, she actually started pulling her shirt down to cover her underwear. Like she has a modest bone in her body. This is the same girl who two nights ago was running around our front yard naked and playing a ukulele. 
10 pm, the party’s just starting. 
Thankfully, the doctor said that growing pains can be present in only one leg (thanks a lot, Dr. Google) and it wasn’t anything to be concerned about unless they get worse, blah blah blah. And after all that, the Immunization clinic isn’t even open on Tuesday afternoons because that’s when it’s reserved for Active Duty units. 

Lucky girl. 
She still got ice cream because I know anxiety sucks and in spite of the pathetic results she was doing the best she could. At the end of the visit the doctor asked her one last time if she could point to the part of her leg that hurt and she half-way stuck her finger out from her clenched fist so it was almost touching her knee. It was a bit like interpreting for a monkey that “talks” using sign language. So yeah, she earned her ice cream.
(but when we go for shots I’m not giving her any warning — I think the surprise attack is the way to go. And I might have to be armed with suckers since she asked if she could scream . . .)

meat market

Did I really never blog about our trip to the fish market and meat market a few weeks ago? It must have been because I was too tired after leaving the house at the crack of dawn (7:30am) to beat the worst of the heat. I’ve never gone before because 1. I don’t do things that require getting up early, 2. I don’t go to new places by myself if I don’t have to, 3. It’s way easier to walk into a regular grocery store and get the same thing for almost the same price. But since several friends were going and one person was going to show us the ropes, it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

Carter came with me and had two requests: shrimp and crab.

I should have taken a photo inside the fish market, but it was this huge warehouse full of platters of fish, shrimp, crab, shark and any other sea creatures you could think of — narrow walkways, wet floors and the smell of salt and fish on everything. I was so busy taking it all in that I forgot to pull out my camera until we got to my friend’s shrimp guy. She’s been shopping at the fish market almost every week for about a year and has her favorite suppliers for particular things. She said this guy has very fresh shrimp and sells her the largest size for the best price. We were able to get these huge shrimp for about $7.50 for 2.2lbs. And then they cleaned them for another $1.25. (I actually bought about 10lbs and then froze the extras). 

Then it was crab time. We got 11 of these beauties for about $4. They don’t sell them alive, which according to the internet is a huge no-no (in America at least), but they were all fresh caught so I took my chances. 

Then we went over to the meat market. There are obviously a lot less “rustic” places to buy meat on the island, but I guess the freshest and cheapest is sold here. New Zealand lamb and Pakistani beef. A friend of mine buys leg of lamb for about $1.25/lb. I guess that’s a good price. I don’t buy lamb because I think it tastes like a farm smells. I will concede that I have had really good lamb over here, but since good lamb tastes like beef, I just buy beef instead. 

Inside the meat market — stall after stall, all selling beef and lamb. 

Carter was not impressed with the smell and swore he wouldn’t eat anything that I bought here. The building was warm and smelled of blood and flesh. I wasn’t sure I would want to eat anything from there either, so we just watched as my friends purchased legs of lamb. 

The guy is chopping the lamb leg into pieces so it fits in my friend’s crockpot. He holds the cleaver in the air and then WHACK! WHACK! splits it into pieces. I’m pretty sure his cutting board is part of a tree stump. I wonder how and how often they clean them?

Animal carcases everywhere

That thing that looks like a lizard is a beef/cow tail. 

Not really in the mood for eating meat today . . .

But we did come home and enjoy steamed crab!

The facts of life

It was a stellar parenting morning. Usually when I say that, I’m being sarcastic, but this morning I was on a roll. While driving to work (Calvin’s, not mine — though my work is driving him to work so I guess we’re both on the job), he and Carter were telling me how Caleb had been looking up the actors from Pitch Perfect and seeing what other movies they were in. He was trying to point out how that was a stupid and useless waste of time, but I zeroed in on a different part of his story.

“How is he getting online? Isn’t the computer broken?” (I think it has a virus and my solution to viruses is to start over with a new computer so it will remain broken until Daddy gets home and can figure it out.) In general we don’t allow the kids free access to the internet. The web browser is disabled on their iPods, they aren’t ever on my computer, the virus-stricken computer has a blocking thing that requires me to input in a password practically every 10 minutes (which thoroughly annoys me) . . . I was puzzled how he was getting online until we figured out that the iPad must still have Safari on it. It used to be Josh’s and now it’s mostly Camille’s so I guess we didn’t ever secure it.

I took this as a teachable moment and said some wise, parental thing like, “You know it’s not that we don’t trust you with the internet, but you know how so many of your friends at school look at porn? (They do. The boys have told me — I’m not just maligning a random group of people to make a point.) We don’t want it to be a temptation that interferes with your enjoyment of other things. And besides, porn doesn’t just hurt you, it exploits all those women and girls who are involved. Every one of them is someone’s daughter, sister or mother. Can you imagine how you would feel if people looked at Camille in that way?” And then I had a flash of brilliance and said to Calvin, “Hey! If you want to look at naked people on the internet you can always watch birth videos on YouTube with me! That is a way to really appreciate God’s amazing design for the human body.”

I don’t often do this, but I was looking at something related to babies the other night and in the sidebar were several homebirth videos so I clicked on one and started watching and then Camille came and joined me and before long Carter and Caleb were piled up around me watching twins (and then triplets) be born. I was willing to have them watch my births so it wasn’t a huge stretch to have them watch someone else giving birth. Carter piped in, “Yeah, Calvin! It’s really cool! The lady’s stomach was huuuuuge before the (triplets) came out!” Calvin was all, “No thanks.” But I might wear him down eventually. I think everyone should see a baby be born at least once. It is seeing the impossible happen right before your eyes.

We were then approaching base so I only had a few more minutes to hit them, machine gun style, with reminders to “say no to drugs,” including inhaling anything like glue, paint or markers since that stuff can kill just easily and unpredictably as any of the standard ones. And that they could drink alcohol with me if they want to drink and to never get in a car with someone who has been drinking, and that marijuana is a really bad idea if you are anxiety prone, and it was good to be talking and open and they nodded and laughed and headed off to life. Nailed it.