Robin Chartier – Page 88

weekend weirdos

I’m happy that Josh will be home to share the cheerleading duties next weekend. 2 hours of baseball and 2 hours of soccer (and 5 hours of baseball that I skipped) is a lot of time to sit on the sidelines when you’re flying solo. Good thing I have my knitting.

Driving to somewhere yesterday. Poor guy and his misspelled logo. He should have tried for “Porche” or “Farrari”

My little artist — I think she was inspired by Alexander and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day movie and wanted to draw on her face. I totally let her do it too. She was adorable perched in front of the mirror deciding which color she was going to put where.

After face painting we headed over to the school for a baseball game. I camped out in my very comfortable chair and knit for 2 hours. Calvin would text me every time one of ours was up to bat so I could pay attention. Faking interest in baseball is proving to be very difficult this season.

Not much grass on the baseball field here. Caleb is way out there near second base.

Zoomed in. that’s him throwing the ball toward first.

I don’t know what Carter is doing with his arm, but he must think he’s ready for the big leagues. This morning he told me, “One of things I love about baseball is they have great uniforms.” Oh great. How about I just buy you a jersey and save myself several hours a week?

Keeping track of the game from behind home plate.

I don’t know who won, but since I had a kid on each time, we’re all winners today!

Of course more sports equals more uniforms and more missing gear. This is how an expat kid finds missing items in the house:

By leaving a note for our housemaid. It says the note is from Carter, but Caleb is the one who wrote it after spending 20 minutes helping Carter look for it (I would hope Carter could spell his own name!) Josie can find anything!

So long, farewell . . .Masalama goodbye!

I don’t think two weeks have ever flown by so quickly. Mom went home last night leaving tired and happy grandkids behind.

I love these kids. They are like puppies. We have 3 king sized beds and a twin for the four of them, but they always end up together. Usually they are listening to an audiobook as they go to sleep and pile together so they can all hear.

We didn’t do a ton of touristy things while Mom was here, since we covered most of them last time, but something new to me was Arabic breakfast in the souk. We went shopping her last morning in town and after drooling over jewelry, blankets, and Turkish lamps, we drooled over the spread of food that we saw them serving up in the downstairs restaurant. We grabbed a table in the middle of the sunny room and ate our fill of cardamom noodles, ful (fava beans cooked so they are similar to refried beans), potatoes, vegetable fritters, something similar to baked beans in a sweet red sauce, eggs with tomato and cheese, and a pile of warm flatbread. It was so good. Add in a few lemon mint drinks and we were in Middle Eastern food paradise.

The best part about having my mom here was experiencing normal life — going to the grocery store, planting and working in my garden (she and Camille did most of that project while I was sick), going to soccer games and baseball games, a morning at dog training class, evenings laughing over episodes of Malcom in the Middle with the kids. Nothing special, but it was all special.

My yarn cabinet also was delivered this week. I was so happy for my mom to see it finished because it was after she sent me a box of yarn for my birthday that I was inspired to get something to display all the beautiful colors. I drew out the measurements for the cubbies and told him I wanted glass doors, but the final design elements were a surprise.

I love that the arches in the doors look like the old style bahraini/omani windows. It’s fun to go furniture shopping when you can design your own.

Miss you Mom!!

love note to my phone

First things first: I’m feeling great. I think Carter was pretty worried about me because when he came to check on me Friday morning and I sat up in bed and started talking, he exclaimed, “Mom! You sound so much better!” I looked in the mirror and my tonsils had gone back to normal overnight. Amazing how that happened so fast. I completely understand how people died before the invention of antibiotics. Josh said it looked like an alien had exploded from inside my tonsils a la Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, but thankfully it lost the fight to penicillin. That battle would have been its own kind of horror movie.

My miraculous healing has made me happy about even the most mundane things (swallowing, standing upright, eating solid food, etc.) and today it hit me: Texting is the greatest invention ever. I get to communicate using the written word, I don’t have to talk to anyone, I can multi-task at the same time that I’m having a conversation, I can take my time to think of the right response . . . FREEDOM.

I’ve hated talking on the phone since I left Jr. High. I must have logged my lifetime allotment of hours during those 3 years. Hour upon hour with the phone cord winding down the hall and tucked under the crack in the bathroom door as I chatted with my friends about nothing at all, draping myself over the rolling desk chair 101 different ways, rotating as each body part turned numb, getting yelled at because someone had been trying to get through for over 3 hours because there was no such thing as call waiting back then, unsuccessfully arguing that the perfect solution to that problem was my own phone line — those days, long gone. As I moved on to High School I started driving, working, and using the phone as it was intended — for quick communication with work and friends. Until I got a boyfriend and then I fell down the rabbit hole of hours of endless chatting. At least we had call waiting by then or no one ever would have gotten through to my house.

Since then though, I generally hate the phone. If someone calls me, I have to work to understand them (I got the bad genes for poor hearing), I’m tied to a device that has to be held next to my ear so I feel restless, and it usually interrupts what I’m in the middle of doing at the moment. Thankfully, living overseas means no one ever calls me. Other than the quick, “Hey are you home so I can swing by?” which I don’t mind at all. Instead, I get text messages. It’s almost as thrilling as getting letters in the mail.

I can carry on a conversation with my sisters over a period of several days, buzzing in and out as we’re able. A thread of connection that isn’t broken because we have to hang up. Photos, an update, a funny story, a few days of quiet and then something sparks the conversation and we’re back at it again. No need to worry about time zones, dinner hour, or the daily schedule. I send my message and she is able to receive it at her convenience.

Texting with my boys is a joy. They are funny and sweet and I like seeing the things they choose to share with me. While Calvin was in Germany Josh’s phone buzzed a few times and he was typing back. I asked, “Who’s that?” I pouted when I heard it was Calvin and asked, “Why is he texting you and not me?!” A few minutes later I get: “Alright Mom. I’m messaging u. Happy now?” So nice of them to tease me like that.

When Josh travels texting keeps him with us here at home and me with him on the road. He knows right when Calvin scored a goal or Carter made a beautiful pass or Caleb saved a shot from scoring. He knows when Camille is being a pain or a delight (we run about 25/75 these days) and he laughs at the photos I send him of her many crying faces.

On the flip side I know when he’s in meetings, going out to dinner, or running into old friends from past duty stations or deployments. Since he can’t access his phone at work here in Bahrain (they can’t have them inside his building), we text a lot more often when he’s on the road.

I was just thinking this morning as I was in the middle of two text conversations, checking my email, and drinking my coffee that I was experiencing a beautiful thing. I could finish a sentence or a thought, pick up my phone (cause I had my computer in front of me too), write a reply, go back to Facebook, message someone there, sip of coffee, next email, and repeat. A bunch of little pieces moving life forward all at my slowed morning pace. Communication at its finest for someone who loves the sound of silence.

sick

We’ve been having a fun week with my mom, but now I’m dying. From the inside out. I went to bed with the beginnings of a sore throat last night and thought, “ugh, I’m getting the crud that has been going around.” Until I woke up in the middle of the night and found that someone had taken a knife to the inside of my throat and set it on fire. At least that’s what I could have sworn had happened while I was sleeping. So on one of my very precious sleep-in days (Calvin is in Germany for a school conference so no soccer practice driving for me!) I had to drive in to base at 7 in the morning and camp out until the medical clinic opened and I could get in to see the nurse. My tonsils looked like an alien had invaded and set up shop — Carter and Josh both looked at them and Josh thought if the clinic couldn’t see me, I needed to go to the ER. Carter just ran away scared. I actually took a photo of them (a tonsil selfie if you will) so I could see them up close, but I won’t traumatize you by sharing it.

I had already googled “symptoms of strep throat,” so I was pretty sure what the results would be and I was sitting on the couch sipping warm tea with (my new Yemini) honey when the call came in that the test was indeed positive for strep. So I had to drive back to the clinic to pick up penicillin (a word I still can never spell correctly, no matter how many times I try) to hopefully evict the alien invader fast.

I thought I was doing OK, but then my Motrin started wearing off and my throat started hurting even more so I abandoned the couch for my bed and slept for the next several hours. Thank God for Mom who entertained Camille all day and let me rest without any interruptions. Now I’m rearranging my schedule and begging for favors so the kids don’t have to miss everything while I’m nursing my ground hamburger throat. Did I mention that this happened to be the week that Josh’s car started overheating so there is an extra layer of juggling required?

And now a few photos from the good old days, back when I could swallow instead of drool, and we took my mom carpet shopping. I told you, if you come visit me, I will buy you a carpet . . . the offer still stands.

As you can see from the way Camille is making herself comfortable, they know us well in this shop.

It’s a family thing. They each want one of their own. Caleb is on the hunt for a blue carpet. Of course there is a particular kind of carpet that is known for it’s blues (not the one above), but it’s over $1,000. Nope.

Carer is in love with green and thought this one would be perfect for his room.

But I’m not buying them all carpets in the same night — we still gotta eat!

I realized Calvin isn’t in any of these photos. Probably because he was busying doing his Countdown to Germany in his head and kept saying things like “6 hours until we go to the airport” so he was not in the carpet buying frame of mind.

When the guy pulled out this one, we knew it was Carter’s. It’s a very soft wool on cotton from Pakistan. He liked it so much he went home and slept on it.

The child who also really wanted a carpet and didn’t get one tonight was very, very sad. I keep telling him we are going to find a fantastic blue one and he will be so happy he waited. The carpet guy gave him a blue mini carpet and that cheered him up a bit.

This is the one that Mom decided on. They are all feeling it because it’s so soft. Wool and silk (the white details are done with a cotton-silk) on a cotton base. Also from Pakistan. I love it.

Hey, it’s the same colors as in my couch! That’s probably why I like it so much. Meelie watching TV with her snuggle buddy. Everywhere he lays, she tries to get close to him. I think he has finally given up.

Nana has found another grandchild to snuggle. Micah loves her.

Trying to curl up his long lanky body to get as much in her lap as possible. He is almost the perfect dog. Aside from his daily meds, he is very low maintenance and quiet. I think we’ll keep him.

Now to spend some more time sleeping and less time feeling my torn up tonsils. Oh, and it’s Josh’s 40th birthday today. I’m sure he’s thrilled that all I can do is squeak out a painful, “Happy Birthday.” No party, no presents, no cake. Oh well. Welcome to the best decade. We’ll celebrate in Paris.

Exercise

I have heard that some people have a inner conscience for exercise: “Oh, I haven’t exercised today. I really need to go for a run. I’m so glad I went and worked out! Now I feel productive and good about myself!”

Yeah, that’s not me. I think of exercising as a happy accident. I do it accidentally and I’m happy when I can escape it. I want to be in shape, but I haven’t figured out how I can accomplish that while watching episodes of Revenge (or The Blacklist) lying on the couch with my knitting and a cappuccino. But I can commiserate in a slightly different arena. When I hit the “publish” button on my blog, I get that rush of accomplishment, sense of completion, and the niggling “you haven’t written in a while” voice is silenced and I’m guilt free as the timer resets to zero and starts ticking up again. So here’s my exercise for today:

Over the weekend we went to the annual Autumn Fair. I have never known why they have an Autumn Fair in January, but Josh finally solved the mystery. I guess it originally took place every year in November so it was indeed an Autumn Fair, but when they shifted the event to January, they kept the name. Oh, Bahrain!

This 9 day event takes place in a big exposition center and it’s wall to wall booths of things for sale. Everything from mass produced leggings from China, honey from Yemen, spices and perfumes, clothes, beautiful pashminas, bazillions of cheap comforter sets, to gemstones both genuine and fake.

This shop was full of metal coffeepots, tea sets, copper pitchers and lanterns. We didn’t buy anything because the prices were all higher than what we could get for similar items at a shop in the souk where we know the guy.

The masses of humanity didn’t exactly put me in a shopping mood either. So much perfume and incense, too many cheap, mass produced products, and getting whacked by all the puffy blanket sets that everyone and their mother were buying as we squeezed down the aisles wasn’t my favorite part. The rule for shopping here: keep moving and be aggressive. Just like on the road.

We stopped at a stall where the guy was making sugar cane juice.

Fresh off the cane. He would feed the stalks into the machine that pressed them and spit the flattened husk out the back while the juice poured into the bucket below. We bought a cup. It was sweet and tropical tasting, almost like the water from inside a fresh coconut.

I don’t plan to go back to the Autumn Fair again this year, even though I’ve heard that the prices on items are discounted on the final days. Mom and I have other adventures planned — another trip to the souk, a visit to my furniture guy to check on my latest project, and maybe a little carpet shopping.