Author: Robin Chartier

Update from California

I guess it’s the sign of a great vacation that I haven’t taken any time to blog since we arrived. Technically I was putting together a post on my phone from Chicago, but then Camille slashed her scalp open and all was forgotten after that. Don’t worry, she’s fine. I had her sitting on the counter as I was putting my purse and wallet together and she stood up into one of the lights that hang over the kitchen island. Glass everywhere, the smell of burning hair, baby screaming, and blood gushing. All that I dreamed my vacation would be.

Fortunately it turned out that there was only one big piece of glass embedded pretty deeply that I was able to pull out with my fingers. Since it was the really thin glass from a halogen bulb it was a thin, clean cut and I was able to get the bleeding stopped quickly. Then I rinsed the other particles out of her hair and Josh found a few extra ones with the tweezers. Like the good parents we are we opted not to take her to the ER because
1) The bleeding had stopped, the wound was clean and closed, and when Josh pushed on the wound a bunch she didn’t even flinch (meaning no leftover shards of glass trapped inside).
2) She had already calmed down. If she thought the guy trimming her bangs was traumatizing, I can only imagine what she would to to the ER doc who would pull open and irrigate her wound.
3) Who wants to waste a vacation day at the ER if it’s not absolutely necessary?

I hesitate to post a photo because it doesn’t even come close to showing how gross it was and it makes me look like a drama queen. This is after we got it all cleaned up and shows about half of the gash. Josh joked that she’s going to end up with a little Harry Potter lightning bolt scar on her scalp. 
Some ice, a bag of Swedish Fish (gummy candy), and Dora the Explorer makes the best medicine. 
An hour later, all patched up and ready to go play at the park!
No worse for wear. Now today I had to call Poison Control because she ate one of Josh’s pills (always jonesin for candy), but it turns out a 3 year old can eat up to 3 motion sickness tablets without needing to get their stomach pumped. Keeping us on our toes!
We are here and making ourselves at home in the suburbs of Chicago. I have stories, but only Internet via my phone and not the endurance to type it all out with my thumbs. So photos instead!
A long awaited visit to Chipotle. They couldn’t even close his burrito it was so fat. And he actually ate all of it. 

All the cousins together!
Walking in the rain!
Target magic

Camille adores her cousin. 

Birthday girl

24 hours from now we’ll be on our way. I think we’re all packed. After little to no notice leaving Egypt,  packing seems like a non-essential. I mean, we are going to the land of plenty, where anything we could possibly want is a Target or a shopping mall away. 
Camille turned 3 yesterday. The day before that, she gave herself a beautiful haircut. She is hanging with her best friend wearing a nightgown and one of her brother’s t-shirts. Yes, I let her dress herself. 
They got along great as long as Camille got to hold the ipad. We’re working on that.
A closeup of the shorn locks. Lucky for me that I checked in on her during her nap time before she cut more than 2 hunks of hair.  
She did not like the man with the scissors. 
He gave her gum which reduced the wails to whimpers.
Showing off her new “baby bangs.”
So this is what 3 looks like.
No party — I figure she’ll be partying for the next month with all the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I couldn’t give her anything better than that. 

Trafficking, part 2

Remember when I wrote this post about traveling to Dubai and seeing all the housemaids on their way to Saudi Arabia? This article, titled Maid to Suffer, from Y-Oman magazine, describes in graphic detail the conditions that await some of those women. Good for the magazine for speaking out against this horrific abuse of women. (Not that the men that come over to work are treated much better, but they tend to be working in labor camps with other men and are not isolated).

From the article: With stricter conditions being imposed on bringing Filipino and Indian domestic helpers to work in Oman, the demand for cheaper workers from other countries has increased.

This is exactly what we were seeing that day at the airport. An influx of even cheaper labor. The 50 to 60 Omani Rial mentioned in the article comes out to $130 to $160 dollars/month. And that’s if the sponsor doesn’t deduct for providing housing (sometimes that is only a sleeping space on the floor in the kids’ room), water or electricity. By comparison, the American Embassy required that we pay a minimum of 120 or 130 OR/month, but I don’t know anyone who paid less than 150. Most women aren’t fortunate enough to get jobs like that.

slight panic

It turns out we have an itinerary for travel, but haven’t actually been issued tickets yet. Today Josh called me and said he has to pick up our passports and turn them in so they can scan our identifying information and our visas in order to physically get the tickets. He asked if I could get them together for him and I replied:

What do you mean? You have them, right?

No, they weren’t in the drawer yesterday so I thought you put them somewhere. 

Noooo, I looked in the drawer yesterday and when they weren’t there I thought, “Wow, Josh is so organized, he already collected our passports for the trip.”

I don’t have them.

I don’t have them. Why would I take them out of the drawer?!

Well I didn’t put them anywhere. I bet Camille took them. 

Well that was at least 2 days ago. Where could they be?

Hold on. I’m on my way home now. 


I had visions of cancelled vacations and a strangled toddler because not only did she take our official passports, but our tourist passports (and our expired diplomatic passports). Vanished. Gone. The last time she took something (the keys to the refrigerator) and I asked her where they were she looked inside the waistband of her pants and then lifted her hands in the air and said, “I don’t know!” It sounds adorable. It wasn’t at the time.

With Josie’s help I found them on the floor of my closet among my shoes. I have since found a different, taller drawer to house them. Camille said she was matching them to each other “like babies” (one of them has a photo of her at 6 weeks old) which would be cute if they weren’t essential to our plans for the next 30 days. 
And remember how I said that I’d be thrilled if my $50 car repair lasted 2 weeks until Josh got home? It did. The car worked for exactly 13 days before it overheated on Josh today on the way home to find the missing passports. It’s definitely time for vacation.