Tag: boys

underground city

One of the afternoons in Urgup/Cappadocia, Josh took the boys to the underground city. I didn’t go because 1) it was time for the baby to nap and we had been hiking all morning 2) supposedly the underground city is made up of all these connecting tunnels, some that you have to kneel and crawl through and I didn’t see how that would be feasible with a baby on my back (and that part sounded a little claustrophobia inducing) 3) it looked to be almost an hour away according to the map, which did not sound like a fun drive with a tired, yelly baby.

It turns out that except for the necessary nap for Camille, all the other obstacles weren’t an issue. It was only about 1/2 an hour away and the boys didn’t want to go down any of the really narrow tunnels because they were small and pitch dark, so I wouldn’t have had to worry about squeezing through tunnels with baby. Either way, I enjoyed my quiet afternoon in my cave while the boys went and explored this cave.

From what I remember reading in the guidebook, thousands and thousands of people lived in these underground cities to hide from enemies/religious persecution. I should probably google that to make sure it’s accurate, but I don’t feel like doing that right now. Josh said the craziest thing was that everything was underground, including areas where they would grow food. He couldn’t figure out how you could grow food without sunlight. Maybe they just stored food for the times they were in hiding?


They had access to plenty of grapes. Cappadocia is wine country.

I can’t say a lot of interesting things about these photos, because I didn’t take them and I wasn’t there, but I do know the story behind this one. These underground cities (there are over 100 of them, but 2 or 3 main ones open to the public) are huge with tour groups and while Josh and the boys were there, they heard a tour guide talking about this well and how it provided water for all the thousands of people that used to live underground. He then took out a small pebble or rock and told the group to listen as he reverently dropped it into the well. It fell down, down, down and the group all oohed and ahhed and nodded when they heard the “splash.”

After the tour group left, Josh took the boys over to the well, because he didn’t hear a splash and he tossed a coin in and it clattered and banged all the way down until they heard a “thunk” as it hit the dry bottom. As the boys were telling me this story, they were laughing so hard that they had tears in their eyes at the idea that the tour guide made a big production about hearing water in the well when it was so clearly dry.

Some of those areas are looking pretty narrow to me . . . maybe it was a good thing I didn’t go along.

If you want to read more about Kaymakli from someone who has more information than I do, I found this link that describes what is on each of the 4 levels that are open to the public: http://www.anadol.com/kaymakli.htm or there’s always my friend, wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaymakl%C4%B1_Underground_City

Maybe a table? A millstone? A door?
**Josh let me know that this is stone is actually part of their security system. The stone would be turned on edge, rolled to block the archway in the photo below, and wedged in place to keep intruders from entering. 

The main passages had some light (you can see the wiring running in this picture, but I guess a lot of the passages are completely dark. Josh said the boys started out with the idea of exploring all the side tunnels, but decided it was too dark. In all they saw stables, a church, living areas, kitchens, granaries, wineries, ventilation shafts, everything required to maintain a city, all underground.

Allergic to Oman

There are all sorts of things we miss about Monterey, but one of the things we were happy to leave behind was the poison oak that plagued us every winter. Like clockwork, every October the identifying leaves would fall and the boys would somehow come in contact with the “dead” twigs that remained and pick up a fresh case of it. Horrible, horrible stuff.

It always played out the same way — a mystery “bug bite” that overnight turned into an explosion of rashes, swollen eyes and mouths, and ended with trips to the doctor for steroids, money spent on creams and scrubs to get rid of the oils, and a very unhappy mom who was always infected just as badly as the original victims. 
So yea for desert climates and no poison oak! Except . . . it’s October 8th and for the past week Carter has had crazy itching, swelling, and rashes all over his body. We think it’s related to the rugby field because 2 weeks ago all the kids were itchy and red after practice, lasting even into the next day. But since practice last Sunday Carter has been miserable. His one eye has been swollen 1/2 shut, he has tiny blisters and a raised rash all over his torso and under his arms, and he can hardly sleep at night. Omani “benedryl” doesn’t seem to be helping, so for the past two days he’s been getting doses of Josh’s Allegra. The longer it goes, the more it looks like how his body reacts to poison oak. And I don’t know the source. 
He’s never had grass allergies. He played on that field for 2 months when we first arrived and never had an issue. I’ve been getting these crazy bug bites where the swelling is the size of my palm and looks just like the bullseye rashes you get with lyme disease. Yeah, I looked it up using Google images — it looks just like it, but Lyme disease doesn’t happen here. Supposedly. So I don’t know if Carter is reacting to an exotic bug bite, a particular fertilizer that they use on the field, something that he’s eating . . . totally puzzled. 
Especially since I’m now noticing vague allergy symptoms in the other kids and myself. Calvin has red patches on his face that have persisted for a month, in spite of the various creams I’ve tried on them. My mouth has what my sisters and I identify as “mango mouth” where my lips feel chapped and burning and I have tiny blisters above my upper lip. Even Caleb has had a similar rash to Carter after each practice, only not nearly as severe or as long lasting. 
Josh seems to be the only one unaffected by the mysterious allergy thing we have going on at our house, but even he isn’t immune to the itching. He never gets bug bites, but he’s been getting eaten alive here and it’s driving him crazy. We left the poison oak behind in Monterey, but October 2011 has been just as itchy as Octobers 2008, 2009, and 2010.

I think it’s time to head back to 29 Palms . . .

Things you don’t learn at home school

After only one week, my kids are already picking up things that I neglected to teach them at home. The other day I was getting a pair of scissors out of the drawer and Caleb reached out, took my wrist and tilted it downward saying, “Unh-unh, Mom. Scissors always have to be pointed at the floor.” I asked, “Is that one of the rules you learned at school?” He nodded proudly.

It’s not like I was letting them use scissors as weapons or swords or anything, but aside from the “don’t run with the scissors!” that I probably yelled out once or twice, I don’t think we had any scissor rules except for the one about only cutting your own hair.

I’m now realizing there are a few other things that all good citizens are supposed to know that I might have neglected to tell them. At dinner one night the big news of the day was the fire alarm going off and they all had to evacuate. Calvin said, “Mom, it was crazy. The fire alarm went off and everyone put down their books and walked outside.”

(Me, trying to figure out the strange part): ??Huh??

Calvin, in an incredulous tone says, “I don’t know why they weren’t all running. It could have been a fire!”

After I stopped laughing long enough to catch my breath and wipe my tears, I gasped out, “Baby, that’s what you’re supposed when there is a fire because if everyone panics and starts running then people might get hurt. It does make sense that if there was a fire, you’d want to get out as fast as possible, but they want everyone to be safe so you have to walk.”

Thankfully he walked calmly outside with the rest of the class because “that’s what everyone else was doing.” Score 1 for peer pressure. I guess the common sense home rule of “get out of the house as fast as possible” doesn’t quite translate to a classroom situation.

The moral of the story is if you’re ever in a building with my boys and the fire alarm goes off, you better be faster than they are or they might run you down from behind and shiv you with a pair of scissors as they race out of the building. Don’t blame them. Their mother didn’t teach them anything.

The other day we had to take the boys to go get their PPD tests for school. Way back in ancient days when I was a kid, it used to be called a TB test and they used to prick your wrist with a little pronged poker thing. No big deal, right? Now the process involves an actual needle that the nurse sticks under your skin as she injects a little bubble of fluid.

Of all the things that I have had phobias about, surprisingly I have never had one of needles. I used to give blood in high school regularly (it was awesome getting out of class and getting free cookies in exchange for bodily fluids), have had a bazillion needle sticks and blood draws throughout my many pregnancies, and my favorite blood draw story involves a kid at the Army hospital the morning of the his first day who came at me with his hand shaking so badly that he was missing my arm as the guy standing behind him told him step by step how to insert the needle properly to collect the many vials of blood they always seemed to need. Smiling, I was able to tell him, “don’t worry, I’m good with needles” as he jabbed away at my arm. (BTW, a week later I had to get more blood drawn and he was swift and smooth as if he’d been doing it all his life. I was so proud.)

Anyway, this new PPD test is not a big deal. It’s like when you used to stick pins through the top layer of skin on your hands and walk around with them hanging off the ends of your fingers. Oh, you didn’t do that? We totally did. So the kids aren’t thrilled that they have to get a “shot,” even though this is nothing compared to the typhoid and rabies vaccines that they had most recently and Carter is particularly mad because he’s blaming this injustice on school. As in, if he didn’t have to go to school, he wouldn’t have to get a shot, therefore that’s one more strike against the school that he swears he’s not going to attend (this was last week, pre-registration).

At the Dr’s office the boys all agree that Calvin has to go first, then Carter, and finally Caleb. Well Carter and Caleb agreed, so that meant that Calvin was outvoted. Sometimes it’s tough being the oldest. Calvin is visibly nervous about getting positive reaction to the TB test, asking questions like “so what will happen if I do get a reaction to the test?” or “I have a cough, could I have TB?” which makes me laugh, but I totally understand where that paranoia comes from, poor kid. When the time comes he mans up and willingly holds out his arm.

Carter, upon seeing the needle enter Calvin’s arm adamantly proclaims, “I’m not doing it. You can’t make me.” A hissed argument between me and him ensues and he pushes Caleb ahead of him and says, “I’m not going to school anyway, so I’m not getting it.” My champ Caleb submitted to the needle without a fuss, while I gave Carter the “you better step up or I’m going to kill you with the lasers shooting out of my eyes” glare as I whispered at him, “I don’t care if I have to hold you down and sit on you, you are getting this test done, so either do it, or I’ll make you do it.” Thankfully I didn’t have to call for a 5150 as he decided it would be better to experience the pain of the shot rather than the pain of his mom sitting on him.

As we were leaving the pediatrics floor I saw a mom, nanny, and three little kids in the waiting room and the mom told the nanny to take the kids for the shots while she filled out paperwork. At first I thought, “How awful to have your nanny take care of the things that a mom should do (like kisses and comforting after shots),” but then I remembered the previous 20 minutes . . . hmm, I might have to consider that for next time.