Author: Robin Chartier

Unsocial me(dia)

About a week ago I decided to cut back on Facebook. And since I don’t moderate certain things very well that means I had to almost entirely cut it out. Oh gosh, I just realized how much that sounded like my mom! (Love you mom! Shall we recite the Serenity Prayer together?)

Basically I’m a reader, information gatherer, someone who likes to be in the know, a snoop . . . and Facebook makes all those things possible. I used to read those Choose Your Own Adventures books with my fingers tucked into various pages throughout the book trying to read all the options, for each of the paths, because it bothered me if I missed any of them. And of course because I was trying to find the best way to go. Facebook is kind of my grownup Choose Your Own Adventure. I get to follow other people’s lives, like reading a story, but I don’t have to talk to anyone or go anywhere or even get out of bed if I don’t want to.

My problem became that I couldn’t just read some of the stories. I’d need to make sure I got down to the bottom where I had read before and then a few beyond that because Facebook has an irritating habit of putting things out of order. And did I read all the replies to the posts? And then I’d refresh a few minutes later and there’d be new stories and wait, I didn’t see that one before! What else am I missing? And there I would go, falling down the rabbit hole.

I loved that it made me feel like a social person without actually having to be social. A writer’s paradise. I can type a few words here and there and make a personal connection with someone who is literally thousands of miles away. But on the flip side it was repetitive — the same “news” articles posted over and over again by different people. Yes, I get that you are passionate about vaccinating/not vaccinating, Donald Trump/Bernie Sanders, Kim Davis the hero/Kim Davis the devil . . . on the bright side, it showed that I have a very wide expanse of friends from both ends of the spectrum (and a few from various corners of the universe). Add in 5 gazillion memes about the topic du jour, and it became a lot less about following the lives of people I know and more about what the people I know had been reading. (Or not reading — hello, people! Meet Google and Snopes. They are your friends. Use them. Posting that you give no one the right to your photos does nothing. Oops, gotta get off my soapbox . . .) The real answer to what am I missing? Nothing.

So we’re on a break. Ish. I moderate a page so I sign in as the admin and check that page and then see if I have any personal notifications. I might see the top post or two when I sign in, but then I’m out. I happened to see these amazing photos of my niece going to homecoming and looking like a grownup (oh my gosh, how old am I now?!) and missing that stuff makes me sad, but in truth Facebook is 1% that and 99% stuff that really doesn’t matter. So I’ll continue this trial run and see how much more time and space it frees up in my real life. So far I’ve been able to catch up with my old friends from Call the Midwife, so I guess that’s . . . nope, that wasn’t the goal. Baby steps, right?

Another day

I turned the calendar page the other day and sighed. A year ago we spent two glorious weeks in Crete and I wish we could go back. 
We were trying to return this year over Eid vacation, but Josh had to work and if I went by myself with the kids I’d spend the entire trip saying, “It was more fun last year with your dad here.” So we stayed home. And I’ll continue to dream of pink beaches and green coastlines. 
Camille isn’t actually reading yet, but she pretends. She picks out the sight words she has learned and tells the cat what is happening in the pictures on the pages. 

Waiting for the bus. These days there are usually only 2 kids sitting on the front steps because Carter and Calvin head out at 5:15 with their driver, but once a week they all catch the bus together at 7am. The dog likes to come out and wait with the kids, but he’s really just waiting for someone to stop paying attention so he can run off and go dumpster diving. On Thurs he opened the gate himself (he jumps up and pulls it open with his paws) and didn’t come back before I had to leave the house. I spent about 20 minutes driving up and down our neighborhood’s narrow streets looking for him and getting more annoyed by the minute. Since he always comes back I left the gate cracked and then had to lock up the cat. When he comes home he can open the door to the house by pushing on it with his paws, but if we aren’t there to catch it, he lets the cat out and then we have another lost pet drama on our hands. It feels like I spend half my life tracking down pets who don’t want to live with us.

Sure enough, when I got home from volunteering at the kids’ school Micah ran outside to the driveway and started howling at me — I knew coming home to an empty house would freak him out. He probably filled his stomach with trash and thought I’d be there with open arms, welcoming the prodigal home. I wish I had a nanny cam to see what he did while I was away. Probably curled up in a ball and panted until he heard my car in the driveway. Crazy dog.

This week I finished Camille’s skirt. The one with all the colors. She paired it with a striped shirt and her favorite Pony socks and high tops. She’s also very particular about her hair. Today the request was for a single ponytail, but sometimes she wants a braid. Poor girl hasn’t figured out that I can’t do hair — my skills will impress a 5 year old, but that’s about it. Woe to her the day she wants something fancy like an Elsa braid. 

Time keeps on slipping

So what do I do all day? For the past 10 days the kids have been on vacation, but when they went back to school yesterday I was as busy as ever: exercise, grocery store, post office, hosted Bible Study, an after school meeting, piano lesson . . .

Today I have less things on the schedule, but I’m still everybody’s personal assistant. Emailing teachers with concerns (4 different ones — one of my kids is having a bad week!) and figuring out how and when to volunteer at school (tomorrow, over lunch hours, so at least I get to see all 4 kids as they each come to the cafeteria to eat. Win. Win. Win. Win.) and doing more Kid’s Church coordination. And lesson prep since I have to teach this week since I failed to coordinate properly. And I need to pick up a present for a birthday party that Camille was invited to. And get all the kids to the doctor to get some meningitis shot that they’ve all had before, but according to the school nurse are due for a booster? (But the base is out of it so I have a short reprieve). I keep thinking that this is the beginning of the school year rush, but we’re almost in October and I’m still knee deep in tasks.

So that’s why I haven’t been blogging. No one wants to hear about the mundane everyday boring minutia that would be the same whether I were living here or in Lawton, Oklahoma. And a brain filled with minutia doesn’t think many deep thoughts worth expressing.

This afternoon while I wait for the bus I’ll work on a skirt that I’m knitting for Camille. She wants ALL the colors so it looks a bit questionable. Lime green, red and melon aren’t colors I’d normally put together. But I’m sure she’ll wear it with appropriately colored accessories and carry it off with flair. And while I’m knitting I’ll be watching Downton Abby. Yes, we get it over here when it airs in the UK and don’t have to wait until January. Ha! By episode 2 Mary dies and Tom comes back and runs off with Lady Edith . . . just kidding. I won’t spoil it for you.

I guess I should be thrilled that nothing to write about means that my life isn’t crazy, but I think we all know that crazy has become pretty normal here. I’ll try to filter out the minutia and come up with a good story for next time.

We, Like Sheep

I was thinking about the verse, “We, like sheep, have gone astray” and I was going to post the title We Like Sheep and then later on explain it, but then I realized it looked like another post about eating lamb. Comma placement is important.

For those who are concerned, Calvin’s back is OK. The doctor said he has mild scoliosis that shouldn’t get worse because of his age. I thought his X-ray looked pretty twisted, but I guess when the doctor has seen sideways leaning spines, a mild curve is no big deal. He recommended some physical therapy for his pain which means another visit to his primary doctor to get the referral submitted, then a visit to the insurance office a week or two later to get the approval paperwork and then he can start physical therapy. By the time that comes through he’ll probably be pain free. This is how insurance companies save money in the short term, but lose in the long run. When preventive care is such a pain in the butt that you don’t bother to do it, but wait until you have a problem that won’t resolve without expensive intervention — Josh’s back surgery is a prime example. So yeah, he may or may not get physical therapy. I guess it depends on how much hoop jumping I feel like doing this week.

The kids have been off school this week for Eid. It’s the biggest Muslim holiday of the year, where they celebrate God providing a lamb so that Abraham didn’t have to sacrifice Ishmael.

From the informational email that the base sent out: One of Abraham’s many trials was to obey Allah’s order to sacrifice his first born son, Ismael.  Upon receiving this divine command, he prepared to submit to Allah’s will.  When he and Ismael were prepared to execute the order, Allah revealed to him that his “sacrifice” had been fulfilled.  At the exact moment that Abraham was to move the blade to sacrifice Ismael, Allah replaced Ismael with an animal.  Abraham demonstrated that his love and devotion for and to his Lord superseded all others. Eid al-Adha (the Festival of Sacrifice) is a reminder of Prophet Abraham’s example of true faith, devotion, and sacrifice in the cause of All-Mighty God.

Part of the Eid celebration is the sacrifice of a sheep, goat, or other approved animal. There is signage all over the island advertising animals for sale. Interestingly enough, local Eid sheep cost twice as much as imported ones when I would think it would be the opposite. (I just looked it up and it looks like local breeds are in higher demand for sacrifice, thus the higher prices.) Families will go to the feed lots, select their animal and take it home and slaughter it themselves. They keep 1/3 of the meat for themselves, 1/3 goes to family members, and 1/3 is given to the poor. I’ve never seen a slaughter here, though my friend’s neighbor has had a sheep tied in their front yard for the past two weeks, but we did see one when we were in Jordan over Eid. The ritual varies by country with some adopting a practice of outsourcing the sacrificing part and picking up the meat afterward. Old school is to do it yourself in your front yard. 
More info: It is very important to understand that the sacrifice itself, as practiced by Muslims, has nothing to do with atoning for sins or using the blood to wash away past transgressions.  The Qur’an explains:  “It is neither their meat nor their blood that reaches Allah; it is your piety that reaches Him.” {Qur’an 22:37}  The symbolism is in the attitude- a willingness to make sacrifices in our lives in order to stay on the Straight Path.
As the kids and I were heading to the pool the other day, we passed the sheep and goat holding pens. People were parked and picking out their animals for the upcoming sacrifice. I asked the kids, “Aren’t you glad that we don’t have to do that? God provided the Lamb once and for all.” It’s interesting to me that they get that God provided and intervened for Abraham, but miss that it was symbolic of the future sacrifice that would take place for all of us. I’m thankful that we are covered by God’s grace and that I don’t have to fear that my salvation is based on my piety. Cause that would be mish queas (not good). 
We, like sheep, have gone astray, each has turned to his own way. And the Lord has laid upon him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6

Socialized medicine

Calvin has been having some back issues so his doctor put in a referral to the Bahrain military hospital so he could see an orthopedic specialist. The doctor only takes appointments from 4 to 7 pm two evenings a week, and with EID coming up I wanted to get him in before everything shuts down for five days. So that’s where I find myself tonight. 

If I could have arranged it better, I would have sent Josh to accompany him instead. He would have enjoyed hanging with all the Bahrainis and people watching, surreptitiously eavesdropping on their conversations while everyone assumes the white guy can’t understand what they are saying. 
I can barely understand English myself. Checking in the guy asked “what doe terry?” about 3 times as Calvin and I puzzled at each other until we finally got that he needed the name of the doctor we had an appointment with. No chance of pronouncing the name so I just handed over the paperwork and hoped for the best. 
45 minutes later I’m waiting while Calvin gets an X-Ray, the soothing singing of The Haj never ceasing in my ear. All the waiting rooms are playing live coverage of the pilgrimage to Mecca — no newes, no sports, just an endless call to prayer. 
After the X-ray we go back to the original waiting room and wait to see the doctor. Inshallah. He’s been having lower and upper back pain. A gift from both of his parents. Upper is my problem and lower is Josh’s — thanks genetics! 
We may be here all night, but at least his medical bills are covered so this is only an inconvenience, not a burden. And I wish Josh were here to explain the Haj again. If I have to watch people walking in circles for a few hours, I’d like to know who’s winning.