Month: January 2016

Yesterday, January 25th, marked the 5th anniversary of the beginning of the end. Police Day. The first day of the Arab Spring in Egypt. We had no idea at that time that we had only a week left before we’d be whisked away back to the United States and all we’d be left with from our time in Egypt would be my blog posts, a pyramid shaped ashtray, and an evacuation story.

After spending over 5 years in the Middle East it’s amazing how those 2 months in Egypt exist in Technicolor. Every time we talk about Cairo we can recall it as if we lived there for years, rather than months. On one hand the city has an intensity, a vibrancy, that is unlike anything in the Gulf, but I think the biggest reason those experiences are bolder in our memories is because they were our firsts. The first time I saw a car driving in reverse on a freeway (on our way from the airport to our flat). The first time I saw a guy texting while riding a donkey. The first time I smelled desert sand mixed with city smog. The first time I ate koshary (and walked past a dead body in the street on our way to the restaurant). The first time we had to dodge pedestrians on a 4 lane turned into 8 highway. The first time drinking chai on a rickety chair inches away from strangers at the next table.

I realized it’s kind of like giving birth to your first child. I can still remember that Calvin weighed 17lbs at his 4 month appointment and 19lbs at 6 months and that his first food was avocado at 7 months, but only because those firsts exist as a comparison to all the experiences to follow. Every subsequent sibling reminds me of Calvin’s firsts — how do they match up? Is this kid bigger? Is this one growing OK? The following experiences all are held up against the standard and then fade into a happy stack on top of it, not needed as a reference point because one already exists. Calvin’s firsts weren’t more special, but they were more significant to me because it’s how I learned what defined “normal” and it formed my expectations for all future Chartier babies.

As we wait for orders I wonder what I will remember about Bahrain. I know when I see a handmade carpet I will flash back to rug flops and chest high piles of carpets and the smell of dust and wool upstairs in the Magic Carpet shop with my bare toes testing the softness of the fibers. Muscat gave me my first shawarma from the gas station near our house — the char of the chicken, the softness of the bread, the garlicky sauce and the creamy sweetness of the avocado “juice.” I might have to dig deeper  to find those firsts, but they are in there.

I think Egypt is a Picasso. It is bold, in your face, ugly-beautiful, shocking, but memorable and as you look at it closely you see beauty in the chaos. It’s not for everyone and it generates a strong response of either love or hate. In comparison, Oman is a Monet. Beautiful from the first moment you lay eyes on it, it’s purpose is to be exactly what you see. It’s soothing, relaxing and there is nothing surprising about it except that it continues to be just as lovely every time you look at it, from every angle. Everyone loves it and there’s nothing controversial about it.

I’ve decided Bahrain is a still life, painted by a family friend. It doesn’t seem that exciting at first glance, but once you find out who the artist is and recognize the bowl of fruit and the kitchen table as the place where you sit and chat it takes on new meaning. Then you see that she added her cat in the background right next to the coffee mug that you always choose to drink out of and it’s no longer just a painting of a bowl of fruit, but it tells the story of friendship and shared stories and laughter and it becomes a prized possession. It’s not for everyone, but it’s one of your favorites because you know it well.

I’m thankful that I have so many different paintings to hang on my walls and I’m making room for more. What’s next? I’m really hoping it’s not a Jackson Pollock, but I’m open to almost anything.

My efforts to consolidate my driving find us at a coffee house on our faux-Friday night while the boys are at youth group. 

Where have I been? Odds are either 1) on the sidelines of the soccer field at a game, tournament, or practice 2) in the car on the way to a soccer game, tournament or practice OR 3) trying to figure out how I managed to get ourselves overbooked AGAIN.

I thought we were doing fine until Josh left and exposed the flaw in our plan. This schedule only really works if we tag team. Each kid is happy with their level of activity, but combined it becomes too much for any one person to sanely manage. When I finally sat down and realized what they are committed to, I laughed at my foolishness. Laughter tinged with a note of hysteria.

Calvin: is coaching Camille’s base youth soccer team (aw, super cute), playing with the Marines for the base Men’s league, assistant coaching with the American Soccer Club two nights/week and varsity soccer starts next week.

Carter: is playing on the Middle School Intermediate team, playing with the American Soccer Club, and playing in the base youth sports league.

Caleb: is playing on the Middle School Juniors team, playing with the American Soccer Club, and on a base youth sports team.

Camille: is only on the base league team (Praise God), but gets dragged to all other events the way the baby of the family always does.

This doesn’t include the 2 youth groups that they are involved in or music related commitments (church worship team and piano lessons). So I’m pretty much losing my mind over here. I go work out in the morning and then before I know it I’m off to one or another of their events or figuring out how everyone can get to their assigned places and then meet back in one spot with as little driving as possible, but still allowing everyone to eat dinner at some point. Take this as a cautionary tale: Just say “No.”

Monday was school, then come home and fuel up with a 4:00 dinner before ASC soccer. Calvin would go coach, then leave early and walk to base, then the other two boys would finish out practice and walk to base to meet us for Calvin’s Men’s league game, where we would cheer, hopefully win, and then be home by 8 so the kids could crawl in bed because Tuesday was school, then one kid to base youth group, another kid’s soccer tournament (where Camille and I would be) while the 3rd kid went to a soccer meeting then meet us at the tournament. Youth group kid walks back to school where he would watch the end of the tournament then we would roll into Camille’s soccer practice (Calvin coaching) and then Carter and Caleb’s practice. But Caleb would miss piano because I have not yet figured out how to do the impossible and I can’t move his piano practice to another day because he has no days that are free. That day the kids all left the house at 7 am and didn’t get home until about 13 hours later. I brought snacks to them after school and we grabbed Arabic McDonald’s on the way home.

On one hand it keeps them moving and keeps them from staring at screens all afternoon and evening, but at this point breeding a group of zombies sounds like a nice alternative. It would certainly give me more knitting time. Carter and Caleb are already talking about rolling from the Middle School soccer team to basketball (one ends and the other begins the same week) and they also want to join the school swim team. I’ll let Josh field those requests when he gets home next month because right now, I’m at my MAX. He already had to do one FaceTime intervention at the end of last week when I was too tired to drive to youth group #2 on Thursday night and one child was super disappointed and giving me a hard time about it. I’m glad they love it, but mercy, I was done. Especially when our weekends are front loaded with church first thing on Friday mornings and not only do I have to coordinate Kid’s Church, but I also had to get everyone there early so Calvin could practice with the worship team before service. So yeah, even when I’ve been home, I’ve been too tired to put 2 sentences together. I’ve been de-stressing by watching episodes of Shark Tank and eating chocolate in-between shifts driving the soccer train.

What else happened this week? The maintenance guys came to our yard and did about 3 years worth of tree/bush trimming in 3 days, disrupting a hive of bees so they were swarming all around my front yard and I couldn’t leave the house. Then those bees settled outside my bathroom window so taking a shower was like a scene from The Birds where I had to kill the ones who wiggled their way in through the cracks in between scrubbing the shampoo out of my hair. I got 8 of them before they gave up trying to come inside.

Then my cell phone got cut off because I didn’t pay the bill because I didn’t receive the text message that tells me when my bill is due and then when I paid it over the phone it still didn’t work. And yes, I tried turning my phone off and back on again multiple times. When I went in the next day it turned out that I also had to pay Josh’s phone bill before they would turn mine back on. Meanwhile Josh is in Oman on a different SIM card so he was wholly unaffected by the entire event. On the bright side, the lady at the phone kiosk was very nice and my phone started working again 10 minutes later, just like she promised.

Which is a good thing, because my internet which had been working all week went out again last night and was still out again when I woke up in the morning. But now it’s working again so I can’t really call the landlord to complain. I can only wait until it goes out again — which I’m sure it will. There’s no such thing as preventative maintenance here. You wait until there’s a problem and then you just fix that problem. Maybe. I got the plumber guy to come back and see that my ceiling is still dripping. He said he’d come back in 3 days and caulk the upstairs bathroom tub and see if that solves it. At least I think that’s what he’s going to do. We made some hand motions and I pointed at the edge of the tub and made some sprinkling water gestures with my hands and I think he said “caulk” in response. There’s a lot of head nodding that goes on, but that doesn’t mean that anyone understands each other or that anything is really going to happen as a result.

Oh and my cat is either mad about something or getting an infection because this week he decided that he would rather pee on anything but his own cat litter. So far he has struck the dog bed, my comforter, Calvin’s homework and a gym bag. He’s only still alive because I love my kids more than I’m mad at the cat and they are working to make sure he never does it again. So far we are 3 days pee-free, but he is on probation and going to the vet ASAP.

And finally, my bee saga, chapter 5, continued today. The two maintenance guys came back and asked if they could remove the bees (like I had asked them to two days ago). Yes, please! So they got a long pole and poked at the mass of bees and then ran out into the street. Every few minutes I hear a big clatter against my front steps and know that they have made another attempt with the metal pole and are running away to escape the angry swarm. Like playing doorbell ditch with a beehive.

It’s a bit sobering to read about the bombing in Istanbul yesterday seeing as how we were just there, all over that square and could easily have been there ourselves had the timing been different. It’s something to be thankful for in the middle of my irritation with Turkish Air who keeps giving me the runaround and saying that they aren’t responsible in any way for our missed flight. But I shouldn’t be surprised that they are reluctant to part with their Lira based on how our conversation over my luggage went.

The agent called me and said that based on the report that had been issued (and the photos and other documentation that I had submitted), if I came down to the office with the suitcase and the copies of my boarding pass then he would give me $60. So I reluctantly drove myself downtown, hauled my busted up suitcase down the street and into their offices and expected to get paid. Instead, the agent and another representative inspected my bag as if it were a teacup with an invisible chip that they were trying to detect: flipping it over, checking each side, lifting it by the handle to see if it could still be carried, and then he pronounced, “Madame, we will send your bag out to see if it can be repaired and if it can not, then we will pay.”