We went and registered our scraggly looking bunch of boys for school today. Calvin got a major haircut, but his hair is still in his eyes, Carter wants long hair so he came home from his haircut with an almost invisible trim to his mop, and Caleb? No complaints about him.
I’ve been a little worried lately because Carter keeps saying that he’s not going to school. And not in the joking way either. I asked him if he wanted to take the bus or have me drive him on the first day and he replied, “I’ll be sleeping in cause I’m not going.” He said he would go to registration, but then not show up for the entire year. As we know from the time he attacked the elevator, when Carter gets nervous he expresses his fear via anger or defiance. I’ve been having visions of having to carry him into school with him resisting by grabbing and clinging to the doorway with all his might.
Meanwhile, this guy is so over the moon exited about going to school that he wore his uniform this morning even though he didn’t have to. He also dug out “real” shoes that he hasn’t worn since March when we left Monterey. This is out in front of the school.
Waiting to find out class assignments. This pretty much sums up their personalities/feelings about the day. Calvin is interested, but acting like he’s too cool for school, Caleb eagerly anticipating the news, and Carter, the unwilling participant.
Registration was easy since the boys had already been admitted and the US Government had already paid the ridiculously expensive tuition bill (I wish they were that timely on the piddly amount of money they owe us, but I’m glad they at least got the school paid on time). For the three of them to attend for the year it costs eighty-six thousand dollars. I know, I choked on my coffee when I heard that number too. For one year. Talk about extravagance.
And what do we get for that price? Amazing service and attention. Many of the staff members and teachers remembered us from when we met them on our school tour at the end of last year, the elementary school principal was helping to staff the table where they were handing out classroom assignments, making sure he met all the students personally, the middle school principal was handing out class schedules and teaching the kids how to use the daily planner and explaining the block schedule rotation. Calvin didn’t have a foreign language selected yet and the principal asked, “do you want to take Spanish, French, or Arabic?” When Calvin replied, “Spanish” the principal said off the top of his head, “OK. You’ll be with Mr ___ in room 207” and just penciled it in, he didn’t have to check a schedule, a roster, or a computer.
Then we went to meet the teachers. They had several returning students acting as guides so we told them which classrooms the boys were in and they showed us the way. When Caleb walked in the door of his class, his teacher said, “I remember when you visited my class last year. When you said you were going to be in second grade I was hoping you’d be in my class this year. I’m so happy that I get to be your teacher.” Caleb was beaming. We’ve heard great things about his teacher from many of the other parents and combined with Caleb’s excitement and enthusiasm, I think it will be a winning combination.
Next for the wild card: Carter and his teacher. We were hoping for a particular teacher, but Carter was assigned to a new teacher. She’s from Scotland, early thirties (or maybe younger — the older I get, the worse I get at this age guessing thing) and a blend of warm, gentle, enthusiastic, and flexible. She looks to be a perfect match for my reluctant student. After we left her class Carter visibly perked up and started leading the way around the halls instead of dragging along behind. In the car on the way home he said, “I feel . . . I don’t know how I feel. Just better.” So it looks like I won’t have to drag him to school in his pjs after all.
Then Calvin took his schedule and found his locker (the middle school and high school are upstairs) and wandered around and found each of his classes. He saw some girls he was friends with from Kid Games (church camp) and he took off with them for a while. They took ID card pictures and we bought PE uniforms for everyone. Altogether it was a very successful day. Can’t wait for Saturday!
Ah, the joy of enjoying a clean house that was cleaned by someone else who is coming back tomorrow to clean it again . . . Lucy, how we’ve missed you!
Lucy came back to work today after flying in from India early Friday morning. I was worried about her because she looks really tired, but after hearing about her time in India I think cleaning for us will be like a vacation in comparison.
She has stories of having to go to the hospital three times a day to bring pumped milk to the baby, but sometimes not being able to get a cab because the water from torrential rains was chest deep in some places. Other times she would spend the entire day watching over the baby in the hospital only to come home and do the cooking and cleaning at night. She said the laundry was awful because of all the rains and the mud (and I don’t know if she even had a washing machine. I’m sure she doesn’t have a dryer).
Her grandson, Lachlan Ulysses, has been home from the hospital for one week and weighs 2 kilos now (4 1/2 lbs). She said once he came home she didn’t sleep at all because she had to watch over him all night to make sure he kept breathing and didn’t pull the tubes out of his nose. She showed us pictures of him and he is beautiful and alert – just miniature in size. She told Josh his head is only the size of an apple, but she is so thankful that he’s doing well enough to start getting his vaccinations soon. It’s an interesting comparison how they need him to hurry up and grow so he can get shots (because disease is so prevalent there), whereas in America we have the luxury of delaying shots or even opting out of certain ones based on a statistical improbability that it might cause harm to our child.
In spite of the hard time she had these past two months, she is praising God for his provision, even pointing out that having to go home for her father’s funeral meant she was there to make the crucial decisions that probably saved her grandson’s life. Her faith is astounding. I know it was a financial hardship because she had to pay 1500 OR to the hospital ($4000) which is about 8 months salary for her (no, I don’t know how she was able to pay it. I know she is working to save for her younger daughter’s wedding, so maybe she took it from that savings?), but she keeps going. It makes my Western faith look fat and out of shape in comparison. I’m praying that my kid stops throwing up so I can go shopping at the mall while she’s praying that her grandbaby survives and that she has enough money to pay the hospital bill.
Right now we’re off having a $30 lunch and typing on $1000 worth of electronics while she’s at home mopping our floors and cleaning the kitchen. I love having Lucy around, but it often makes me feel guilty at how unfair life is. Don’t worry, I don’t need to be told that I shouldn’t feel bad or that we’re helping her by employing her. Sometimes I need to recognize what a privileged life I was born into and feel that queasiness in my stomach that comes from seeing other people who don’t have enough. Like the 750 thousand people in Somalia that they expect to die of starvation over the next four months. How gross is it that I eat such an excess of food that I have to exercise to keep from getting fat? So. Unfair.
Today is the first day of our training program to conform to the schedule of the institution known as school. One of my favorite things about homeschooling and what kept me going even when other parts were tedious was the luxury of sleeping in. None of this getting up while it was still dark to get ready for the bus – I would smile sleepily from under the covers as I heard the slapping of sneakers on pavement as kids ran past our house to beat the 8am bell.
Until now. A week from this moment my three will have their happy behinds in real chairs at real desks (or maybe they’ll be at lunch on an actual playground) and I will be wondering what to do with all this extra time that life has handed me for the next few months. I’m sure I’ll be rubbing my bleary eyes wondering why the day feels so long when it’s only 11 am and debating whether it counts as napping if I go back to sleep after the bus leaves.
Since we’re easing into things we got up at 7am. Except I really need to ease into the easing into part too, so I woke up at 7, but didn’t open my eyes until 7:20. Then I pulled my netbook into bed and checked my email/facebook/bank account/entertainment news. You know, all the important stuff. Finally, I got up and staggered into the shower and then sat around in a fog for the next two hours, wondering how normal people do this before 10am every day.
I briefly considered having Lucy be the “morning mom” and embracing the role of “nighttime mom,” but that would certainly add years to the amount of therapy they’re already going to need, so I’ll probably end up being the morning figurehead while Lucy does the heavy lifting. Just call me the Queen of England, backed by a Parliament of one.
After we were all up and dressed and fed (I made breakfast the night before – baked French Toast with caramel made from scratch. See? All my best work happens at night) we sat around yawning at each other with nothing to do and no motivation to do it. Good thing we have six more days to practice.
As I was carrying the puke-covered baby in her car seat down the narrow hallway, all I could think was, “how the mighty have fallen.” Four short hours before I was sitting in the Imperial Club lounge, feasting on scones with clotted cream, mini blueberry cheesecakes, and Pellegrino with lime. Then sadly, it was time to leave heaven on earth and move to the Holiday Inn Express.
It’s not too bad, except instead of a tub there’s a tiny corner shower with sliding doors so it’s like being trapped in a plastic box. Oh, and the water had to run for 10 minutes before it heated up enough to shower (I had it maxed out and it still was closer to barely warm than scalding hot). And as we headed to our room there were several rooms with the doors open, revealing people picnicking on the floor, playing games, and passed out asleep in a rumpled bed. It felt a little like walking into a crack house. Not that I’ve actually been to a crack house, but that’s totally what they look like on tv. Except on tv the people aren’t as happy or as well fed.
Anyway, the purpose of this hotel was purely functional. Just a home base to sleep at while we explore the biggest mall in the world (Dubai Mall), go skiing in the middle of the desert at the largest indoor ski slope in the Middle East, and visit the tallest building in the world, the Burj Kalifa.
So we head out to get dinner at the food court at Dubai Mall. Last time we were there we ate at Baja Fresh and Fat Burger, I bought a cute hat, and we were awed by its size and beauty. This time I had plans to visit Lush and Sephora and beyond that, I was open to whatever. This time the only thing we were awed by was the traffic. Today is the first day of Eid, the three day holiday marking the end of Ramadan, and everyone in UAE decided to celebrate with some shopping. Normally, not a big deal except that many things in the Middle East are not designed logically, and this parking structure was one of them.
We spent almost an hour trapped in underground parking garage hell, never finding a spot and never finding a way to go up or down a level. There were main lanes that just dead ended, requiring people to do many-pointed turns to get turned around to go back the other way. There were huge empty sections blocked off for valet parking. When Josh drives the parking gods always smile on him, but not today. I told him that we needed to go back to the hotel and grab a cab because our hotel wasn’t that far from the mall, but Josh doesn’t give up easily so I told him 10 more minutes before we surrender.
Just then we hear coughing and gagging from the back seat and then the dreaded splash, followed by “Camille threw up!” Since vomit trumps everything, we headed back to the hotel, I got the puke prize, and they grabbed a cab back. The water had barely gotten warm in the shower before I got a text saying they had arrived. (See? The taxi idea was way faster.) I got the puker cleaned up and then she threw up again on the floor so I got that cleaned up and now she’s sleeping on top of a towel.
On one hand I’m glad she was healthy while we were at Atlantis, on the other hand, if I were going to be trapped in the hotel room it would be a lot nicer to have the buffet and drink station down the hall, free wifi, and chocolates to help kill time. Oh, and that huge bathtub. I could be pretty happy trapped in that hotel room for a week at least.
A few hours before the puking started she was doing this: Coincidence?
***I spent the next 36 hours stuck in the hotel room and went through piles of towels, but at the 24 hour mark she stopped throwing up and was her perky, yelly self by morning. By then it was time to leave, but I was able to hit Lush and Sephora on our way out of town, so that part of the trip wasn’t a total bust.
I could totally win the million dollars if all that was standing between me and the finish line was the Leap of Faith. Yep, I did it. Conquering fears, one at a time. The key was not thinking about it and not looking down. Just a normal slide . . . just a normal slide. So normal that when I reached the bottom we headed right back up to ride it again. And then again.
I had a great time on the rides with Josh and the boys. One afternoon the baby napped and Calvin babysat while Carter and Caleb went to the Kid’s Club (free admission for Imperial Club rooms) and Josh and I had a 2 hour “date” and rode a bunch of rides together. It was really fun. I always wondered who would go on a family vacation and then send their kids away to one of those Kid Club places . . . um, I guess I’m one of those people? Not really. Carter and Caleb could have gone to the waterpark with us, but they were begging to go to the kids club where they had a rock wall, video games and I’m not sure what else. I really should ask them what they did. Whatever it was, it was great enough that they wanted to go back the next morning so we dropped them off for a few hours while we packed, checked out and hung out with Calvin at the waterpark (that’s when I was able to go on Leap of Faith).
This picture is an inside joke for us. Last time we stayed at Atlantis, Calvin told us there were private suites inside the waterpark. Why did he think that? Because one of his friends saw the “private” sign and assumed that important people must stay behind those locked doors. In actuality, the “private” signs mark the maintenance closets and service entrances so now we tease Calvin that he can stay in the private suite right next to the dumpsters.
Waiting on the bridge for Josh and Calvin to come floating by on the river.
