Author: Robin Chartier

conformity

I picked up my first abaya today. I say “first” because I promptly ordered another. This next one will snap closed all the way down the front for easy on and off. Once we’re living in Bahrain, if I ever want to get off the island and go to IKEA, I’ll have to wear an abaya (the IKEA is over the bridge in Saudi). I can’t wear the same one every time, right? 

Besides, all the different patterns and beading options were calling my name. When we walked in the shop today they had an entirely new display of designs, colors, and rhinestone patterns. I’m going to have a hard time leaving the shop without ordering a third one . . .
I tried on my completed abaya, ordered my next one, and wore it out of the store. Then Josh and I shopped at all of our normal haunts and the reaction I got from the Muslim men we know was amazing. Mashallah! (It it a term of admiration without jealousy, giving the praise to God.) As our friend Mohammed said, “Every day you are beautiful. Today, you are more beautiful.”
Josh also said it was fun watching the different looks I got from the shoppers in the souk. Since it was a cruise ship day it was crowded, so we were weaving our way through the groups of people, me a few feet in front of him. He said the European tourists would do a double take and he could tell they were wondering, “What’s her story? What is a white chick doing in an abaya?” He said the Omani women all turned to look at me too, but his favorite reaction was from two Muslim men. He could tell by their dress that they were extra religious (this group wears a beard and their disdashas are hemmed shorter than normal) and as I walked by, they looked at me and then looked up at him and gave him a look of respect as if to say, “My brother, you are on the right path.” 
After having worn one, I have to say I’m a fan. I wouldn’t like them if they had to be plain and all black, but I’ve always loved the designs and rhinestones that are the fashion here in Oman. They’re extremely comfortable, wearing one feels elegant, and you still get a sense of a woman’s personality, just like with regular clothing. 
Thankfully as a non-Muslim, I don’t have to cover my hair unless I’m visiting a mosque. The best of both worlds. 

starting at the end

We got home last night from camping at the beach and this morning headed out for an all day rugby tournament. Since baby girl is exhausted, crying, and needing a bath, I’m throwing these up here for now with more to come later.

Caleb was our star today — our scholarship hopes rest on him. Josh and I joke that he has the best of both of his older brothers: Calvin’s natural talent and Carter’s determination and drive. He’s a natural at rugby and I love to watch him play. 
 
 

Oh, what’s that? The game ball? Yes, my baby was on the winning team and MVP. 

Admiring his gold medal. Only the winners got medals, making his all the more valuable.

OK, gotta go soothe the savage beast. She was a great sport and a super trooper the entire weekend, so it’s only to be expected that she’s having a meltdown now. 

Life is like a box of dates . . .

No matter how many you try, all you end up with is a shriveled piece of fruit.

Josh came home with pounds and pounds of dates that he was gifted by some very generous Saudi friends. What a tease though, all those dates packaged like chocolates, each one in its own brown paper cup. 

Whether it’s fruit or chocolate, Camille is an equal opportunity eater. When my back was turned, she pulled some dates off the counter and tried to eat as many as possible before I caught her. 

She has a huge date in her mouth and in her hands she’s holding these date balls that are covered with crushed pistachios, chocolate, or sesame seeds. She demolished an entire gift box of date treats before I realized she was being too quiet . . .

chow hound

called on account of sand

Yesterday I was having a lazy afternoon, enjoying some time by myself, when my phone started buzzing. I checked it to see that I had gotten a text message from the kids’ school marked URGENT. Reading on, I saw that the ministry was forecasting a sandstorm for the afternoon so they were ordering all schools to close early. It had been hazy and windy and visibility was poor all day, but I was a little nervous about how bad it might get if they were sending all the kids home early. 
Remember this? October sandstorm
Fearing that my kids might end up trapped on the bus in the middle of a sand tornado, I decided to drive to pick them up from school. Not because they’d be better off trapped in a car with me (oh man, can you imagine the panicking that would go on inside that vehicle?), but because the buses are slow and I knew if I was there right at release we would be home before the buses even pulled out of the parking lot. Then we’d be home safe and sound together — less worry for me. 
I knew that the storm might delay Josh, but I wasn’t worried about him. He had a layover in Bahrain and was meeting up with a friend who lives there and I figured if he got stuck there overnight he could do some house hunting. His flight did end up being cancelled, but of course they waited until it was time to take off before officially canceling and then they rescheduled them all for 4 hours later so he ended up spending the night in the airport and getting home at 5 am. Poor guy. 

This is from today — the visibility is still poor even though there’s no wind today. The sky is less brown than it was yesterday, but it’s still pretty dusty out. We didn’t end up having a big storm roll in like last time, but everything is covered in dirt. We’re supposed to go camping tomorrow so I hope the air clears by then. 

Not related to the storm — this cute thing trying on her new outfit made from a man’s head wrap.

Cute, huh? A friend had it made for her daughter, but it turned out too small. It’s big on Camille, but it won’t be long before she can wear it. 
 

Why I blog

Sometimes I love blogging, other times it feels like exercise . . . you know you should do it, but you don’t feel like it, there are a million other things you could be doing instead . . . that’s how blogging feels sometimes. But I keep at it because I think of this blog as a gift to my family. (And if you’re reading this, you’re either family or might as well be. God bless you for sticking with me this long.)

You may not have gotten a birthday gift, or a phone call at Christmas, or acknowledgement that it was Mother’s Day/Father’s Day/your anniversary . . . in fact, I know you didn’t. Cause I didn’t send one. Or call. Sorry about that. But I think about you every day as I write. I also think about you every day as I walk around just living life and collecting experiences to share with you. I think about whether something is “blogworthy” as I watch Camille start to say her first Arabic words (hallas, meaning finished), or wonder if the video I took of Camille dancing is funny just because I’m her mom, or you will find it funny too. Whether it’s an adventure like sand boarding in the desert or the day to day grind of carpooling and after school activities, every word is written with you in mind. 
I try to remember to bring my camera when we go places because often my words aren’t enough. Explaining our days through pictures is the next best thing to having you right here next to me. I think about how someday, if my children are halfway around the world with my grandbabies, that I would really love to have this peek into their lives every day. And that is why I try and blog every day. Because that is the gift. Doing it even when I don’t feel inspired, when I don’t feel like my words are good enough, my stories funny enough, or my photos interesting enough.  
Think of this blog as one big extended love letter to you. A present tied up with a big red bow. I hope that you love it and that it fits perfectly. I created it just for you.