Am I the only one??

Let me set the scenario for you:

• You walk into the kitchen and see crumbs all over the floor.
• You start to sweep the floor, find a bath toy under the table and decide to put that bath toy away.
• You get to the bathroom and see your towels that you'd piled up to take to the laundry, you decide to finish that job.
• When you get to the laundry room, you remember that you need to take out some meat for supper.  You take out the meat and head back upstairs.
• You walk into the kitchen to defrost the meat and see that your floor is still full of crumbs and you can't imagine how you can possibly be working all day long and still get no work done.

This isn't a one time thing.  This happens to me all the time.  Whether it's putting things away, preparing supper or even taking a shower (I once lost my bath towels.  Mr Delusional found them on the kitchen counter next to my coffee cup) I lose track of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.

I started thinking about this as I ran downstairs to get a hand towel (which were sitting in the laundry basket unwashed because I forgot to put them in the machine after remembering to take the meat out for supper) - and I had this whole post written up in my mind.

I came and sat down at my computer all ready to write it up and then....couldn't remember what it was I came to the computer for.  Was I searching for a recipe?  Was I needing to check my email?  Why was I sitting here??

True Story peeps.

Best. Comment. Ever.

While my dad was here visiting, we were talking of cartoons that we used to watch.  I looked at Mr. Delusional, who was politely following the conversation, but not having grown up here, was at a loss as to most of what we were talking about.

"Oh, poor Mr. Delusional, did you watch any English cartoons?" I ask, patting his knee in sympathy.
Iman giggles and says, "Not my dad, he's so old he only had rocks and dirt to play with when he was a kid!"

Yes...my husband is as old as dirt.

I could have told you that.

I saw a story on the news a few weeks ago talking about how whining is the most annoying sound. Ever.  Did they really need a scientists to confirm this?  I think that mothers all around the world read that article and said, "well, duh."

In case anyone in my city doubted it - I decided to take my kids grocery shopping with me.

Well, no - I didn't actually decide to do that.  Fate did.  Mr. Delusional was out on some family business...and I ... well, I needed groceries.  My kids had been playing outside in the heat all day, and have been either fighting off or getting over a summer flu.  In other words; they were in "a mood."

The whining started before I even left the house.
"he hit me!"
"I did not, she pinched me!"
"No I didn't, he looked at me!!"


Yeah...that's not an exaggeration of what happened at all.

Then we got there.  There was a fight about who was going to push the cart.  There was a fight about what kind of eggos to get.  There was Adam trying to nab all the stuff off of the shelf and then pouting when I refused to buy Corn Pops.

When we finally got to the checkout - I was more than frazzled...this is when the kids start asking me for all the things that they know that they can't have.
"Can we have a chocolate bar?"
"No."
 "How about gum?"
"No."
"Tic-tacs?"
"No."

Then I look up to see that while arguing with the kids about this junk...Adam has decided that he needed to catch up on the Kardashians and is happily flipping through a tabloid magazine.  I shake my head but think to myself, at least he's occupied and quiet, and I go on putting my items onto the till...then I hear a rip and see that Adam has torn one of the pages of the magazine.

I quietly meltdown.
My kids sense the impending doom.
They suddenly all become quiet and helpful.
The ride home is silent.

Then we get home.

There is the chaos that ensues in just getting out of the car.  Apparently it's too much to ask a 7 year old to help his 3 year old brother out of the car.  There is shouting, pinching, crying, slapping. Meanwhile, Iman is standing there barking orders to the boys, and I'm trying to be the Incredible Grocery Carrier and have 5 bags hanging off of each arm and shout "Would someone get the door??"

Then I realize that the neighbors are all out enjoying their peaceful evening.  *crickets and judgmental stares*

Eventually, I get the groceries in, the kids in and my temper under control.

Now, I wait for them to sleep.

More Daycare-isms

School is swinging down, and the things my kids say is as good as ever!

Enjoy!

While folding laundry, I notice the tell tale signs that Adam was playing with some scissors.
Me: Adam, what happened to these pants?
Adam: OhmeGod (it's his new word...don't know where he got it from) something happened to them in the washing machine!
Me: No, I don't think it was the washing machine...
Adam: Oh, I 'member now - a dinosaur ate it.
Me: A dinosaur, really!?
Adam: well, maybe it was Isaac.  He likes to cut.
Me: I don't think Isaac would cut up your pajama pants...
Adam: *sigh* Okay, okay, I did it.

---

While washing up the kids for our afternoon snack:
Me: What should we have for a snack today?
Daycare boy:  Idunno.
Me: I know, let's have some carrots and dip!
Daycare boy: Do I look like a bunny?

---

After making the afternoon snack above (carrots, broccoli, cheese and crackers):
Me: Okay guys, snack is ready.
Daycare boy: *looks over plate* Don't you have any meatballs around here?

---

Daycare girl: Hey Adam, let's make (daycare boy) possessed and then he can join us!"
Adam: Yeah! That will be fun!"

Eeeek! They know my weakness!

So, after a rough morning with the daycare kids (not even gonna go there), and then a nap time filled with chaos and homework, I had a relatively nice afternoon.

I decided about 2 minutes after I woke up that I would not be cooking supper tonight. It was gonna be a leftovers or cereal kinda night...and I knew that I'd have to mow the lawn after almost a full week of rain...which was gonna be hard work.

I don't like hard work.

I did it anyhow.  I think my lawn is easily 1/2 an acre.  Well, probably not.  I may be exaggerating just a bit.  But, when wrangling 3 kids, 1 power cord and pushing that machine through thick, tall grass - it feels like that much.

My kids helped out.  They pulled the cord so that it was always out of my way.  They moved the lawn furniture and put away toys.  The three of them sat together with their halos at just the right angles.

They waited until I was almost done. I was hot, sweaty, tired and frustrated with the number of trees and bushes that I have to wind around in the back yard.  I turned off the machine, sat down and wiped the sweat from my brow.

That's when Adam pipes up, "Mom...can we order a pizza?"
Me: "no"
Then Isaac tries, "We'll pay for 1/2." (this almost worked last time)
Me: "no, guys, not tonight"
Then Iman chimes in, "Well....can we get slurpees?"

oooh...she hit me where it hurts.  On a hot day, after mowing a lawn - most people would grab a beer.  Not being a drinker, Slurpees are my drink of choice.  Oh, how I want a slurpee!!  I want to walk to the store and get one, but the ramifications are just something I'm not willing to live with!  3 kids hyped up on more sugar than they've had in the last week - and then trying to get them to bed so that I can get the rest of my homework done....just not something that I can do.

But oh...how I want a Slurpee.

Funkilicious Clothing - A Review of Islamic Design House

It's no surprise that I'm Muslim - it's also no surprise that I have a style and attitude that is all my own (if you haven't learned that yet, you haven't been a blog follower for long!) I've never been one to follow the fads, (just ask my friend, The Princess, who cringes when she sees me all glammed up only to be wearing my beloved red chucks!)  So, Islamic clothing has always been a sore spot for me.  It's just so....drab.

Photo from Islamic Design House

Then, Amenakin of YouTube fame did a review of Islamic Design House.  Oh my, I was in love!  These things have style and funk and still cover all the basics requirements of my faith.  I looked at the site on and off for months.  Eventually, one of the jlbabs went on sale, our Canadian dollar was at an all time high, and I thought, "give it a shot."  I ordered this one (in navy) and then sat worrying that I'd regret it.

When the package came in the mail, I was trepidatious.  I was worried it would be stiff or uncomfortable.  I was worried it would wrinkle when I sat and I'd be spending hours ironing (God knows, I hate ironing!)  I was worried the seams would fray or buttons would fall off or the material would be cheap and thin - but all my fears were for nothing. When I pulled it out, I happily found that the cotton was so lovely.   In fact, I was so impressed that I ordered another one - yes, you'll notice a trend, I've only ordered from the discounted, old season stock - I'm cheap, I can't help it!!

All of IDH's garments are made from 100% cotton.  This is great for many reasons, but for me the biggest benefit is the breathability of it.  I can easily wear this in the hot summer months without swealtering, yet when it was cooler here, I was still warm (granted, to go outside in Canada in the winter, you MUST wear a jacket!!)

Photo from Islamic Design House

The sizing is great too - As a tall(ish) person, I've always found that clothing is never long enough for me.  Buying pants is a nightmare that I don't even want to think about (you know, you sit down and your pants are halfway up your shin?  I hate that!!)  Anyhow, the IDH jilbabs come in a variety of lengths (5 different options from 52-60 inches) I chose the longest, but likely could have gone with the 58, the 60 however allows me to wear heels (if I should ever choose to - I don't usually, but it's nice to know I can if I want!).  They also have different fits; slim, regular and loose. I love these options because it means that you can open the package and wear it - not take it to a tailor to be "fixed."

Finally, my main reason for loving them so much; the design concepts are fantastic!  They have an edginess that still manages to be graceful.  It's just not something that you can describe. Their sporty, casual and simple looks can appeal to a variety of tastes - and there's a new collection launched every season (so you're not stuck looking at the same ones all year long!)

I know that these are really meant for a "Muslim" wardrobe, but I think that non-Muslims could just as easily look fantastic in these as the Muslim women do!

Why do I keep thinking I'm Martha?

The other day this weird sort of "1950's housewife" bug bit me.  I went on a big old baking spree.

I made BREAD people...by hand.

This made me think that I was like the Muslim Martha.  I made bread, I could do anything.  I expanded my Muslim Martha experience and made .... (wait for it) ... home-made chicken noodle soup...& buns.

Woot.

This is what I tried to make

Then I saw an old friend from high school was making some cookie monster cupcakes.  I looked at the picture and thought, how hard could it be?  (here's a great blog about these cupcakes, also the place I got that awesome picture from)

So, I went shopping.  I bought little white chocolate blob things for the eyes (already had the chocolate chips for the pupils) -- I bought some blue food coloring, some icing (yes, pre-made) and some mini chocolate chips (they were actually snack pack ones)

Today I went to work making them.

I mixed up my packaged cake mix and plopped it into cupcake tins.  While they cooked, I made the eyes...then I mixed together the blue icing into the pre-made tin of cake frosting.  Here came problem #1.  In order to get the deep blue of Cookie Monster, I had to put in a lot of food coloring -- this, in turn, watered down the icing.

When the cupcakes were cooked and cooled, I iced.  I'm not all that fancy and didn't bother with the Icing bag thing. I  just splattered in on and thought "it's supposed to look messy."  Here's the problem though -- the icing was too thin to stay "messy" and it smoothed itself out.  It didn't do it immediately, though...it was a sneak attack thing.  It waited until the eyes and mouth were in...and then everything began to slowly slide off the cupcake.

I ended up with this.

Even the cupcake is sad

Yes folks, it's like something straight from Hyperbole and a Half  - I really like this blog, so I thought I could maybe get away with saying that I had made some "Hyperbole" cupcakes...then I remembered blabbing about my plans on facebook first.

Yikes.  I'm no Martha.  At least they taste good (but fair warning, they'll make your teeth turn blue)

Tantrums

I've never had a child who's thrown tantrums.  Oh...they've thrown the occasional fit now and then, but never one of those screaming, throwing yourself of the floor tantrums where other people look at you and say "oh my God, what a horrible parent!!"


So, seeing that I lacked something in my life, God gave me Adam.

A few weeks ago, we went to buy bikes.

(Yes, I said a few weeks ago -- it's taken me this long to get my mental functionality recovered...I've just been in a fetal position rocking slowly in the corner this last while)  

Anyhow - the kids have all outgrown their old bikes and were in need of new...so we said "Hey, let's go to Toys R Us and look at some bikes!"  However, we didn't go to Toys R Us, instead, we stopped at another store along the way to look at the bikes there.  Apparently, this meant that the world was coming to an end to Adam.  He started crying the moment we pulled into the parking lot.  He's cried before, and so we thought he'd get over it by the time we got into the store.

We were wrong.

He cried all the way through the store.  Then he saw the bikes and stopped crying.  After checking out the bikes we realized that there was a sports store in the mall, and we could look there since we were already at the mall.  This made Adam cry again.  This time, he started to intersperse screams of "NO!" while kicking and screaming.  It sounded like we were torturing him. (note, I have never tortured, nor  head anyone being tortured, I'm using a figure of speech called an "a simile" - please stop sending me emails asking me, "did you really do that??")

So, he cried all the way to the sports store, saw a bike that he could actually try riding and was fine.  Then we left to go to Toys R Us.  We thought he'd be happy about that.

We were wrong.

He cried through the sports store.  He cried through the mall.  He cried through the other store we stopped at.  He cried through the parking lot.  He cried in the car.  He cried at Toys R Us.

He cried for 4 hours. He cried, he screamed, he kicked, he thrashed - he could have had a starring role in the next Exorcist movie.

And people wonder why I don't plan on having more.

Daycare-isms

It's been a long, long time since I was able to write one of these posts...we've been through a dry spell lately, but today they were right back at them.

"Stop being such a girly princess!" 
"HOLY GOD, IT'S WAININ'!!!"
"when my mom walks her shoes go 'click, click' and her boobies do this *jiggles about like crazy*"
While cleaning up a mess of blocks for about the 17th time today, my little dude looks at me and says, "Does my mom pay you enough to do that??"

Mo-om!!

Yesterday, while eating supper, Isaac decided that he wanted some juice, I told him that he'd have to go downstairs to get some out of the basement fridge.  Down he goes - and comes back up with milk.  He looks at it, looks at us, and then says "Oh...I brought milk by accident" (he comes by it honestly!) and then goes back downstairs to put the milk back and get the juice.

Suddenly, I hear *thump, bump, crash* and then..."uh....Mo-om!!" I rush down to see if he's okay, imagining he's got a bone sticking through his thigh or something. Nope, instead, I see that he's dropped the milk down the stairs, where at the bottom, the jug hit at just the right angle that it split all the way up the side.  Isaac is standing there in a puddle of milk, holding on to a rapidly leaking jug and desperately trying to cover the gaping hole to stop any more milk from spilling.

Folks, he was standing right next to a bathroom!!

So there he is, with a gallon of milk all around him, standing next to a sink with a complete look of bewilderment.

"What happened?" I asked after the cleanup began.
"I tripped on a piece of foam." he says.
"What foam?  There's no foam here."  But oh, I was mistaken.  There WAS a piece of foam...perhaps the size (and dimension) of a quarter on one of the stairs....

*le sigh*

a brief, musical interlude

My lovely daughter is in grade 4.  This is the year (where I live anyhow) that children learn all things fantastic, sexual education (limited to getting hair in the nether regions & body odor), the French language that they'll likely never use, and...the recorder.

Oh, I'm not sure if I can quite explain my complete lack of total joy emotion about this.  I don't come from a musical family, but it doesn't necessarily mean that I don't enjoy music.  I played the piano eons ago, and my dad can sing...but that's about as musical as it gets.

It would seem that Iman has inherited this lack of musical genius appreciation of music.  She was so excited to get that recorder.  She chose the color and takes loving care of it every day (cleaning out the drool that eventually makes its way into the inner chamber)  She makes sure that it's safe in her back pack and out of reach of her little brother who is notorious for trashing everything.

And she practices, God help me does she practice!  The tweets, the ear-piercing squeaks, the poorly played tunes...it makes me want to scream.  I love my child, I love to support my child, and as much as I want to support her in her endeavour to play melodious tunes, deep inside I really just want to quash her dreams.

What kind of horrible mother thinks that?  Apparently me.

It also got me thinking about my future.  I've been debating going further into my education and becoming an honest-to-God teacher... then I thought, someone went to school for 6 years to learn how to teach children to play music.  Why on earth would you want to do that?  I like that children like music...I like singing songs and dancing with my kids.  But there is no way on God's Green Earth that I'd sit down with a bunch of musical instruments and attempt to listen to them try to play.

I am Hethr, Mrs. Negativity this week.  I'm also praying that the recorder lesson plans are over soon, because my sanity is hanging by a very thin thread...a thread that's vibrating with every note she tries to play...

questions, questions and more questions

I had to take Adam to the doctor last night (sore throat, fever, etc).  I don't know about the doctors in your area, but here, it's endless waiting...waiting for what seems like forever.  I've learned to come prepared - books, snacks, his blankie, etc.

So, we pull up to the doctor's office and I see that there are only 4 or 5 other people there.  This is exciting because it means that I won't be there for more than 2 or 3 hours (yay).  We get in, give the required information and set down to the business of waiting.  While we're in the waiting room, I'm hit with a barrage of questions, questions that are likely personal and that we typically keep to ourselves.  Adam, however, has no etiquette filter.

what's on that kid's face?
why's that man sleeping?
why does that boy have a pony tail? Pony tails are only for girls.
that girl's not covering her cough. Can you tell her to do the elephant?
Why does that man smell like that?
What's wrong with that man?
That girl has chicken pox, I had chicken pox, did I give her the chicken pox?

After much embarrassment, the nurse finally calls us into the treatment room where we were forced to wait some more.  This time, the questions were about the room.

Is that a light switch?
Can we turn it off and then on again?
Is that a door handle?
What's that? (hand sanitizer)
What's that? (tongue depressors)
That's for my ear, right mommy?
Will the doctor be able to find my throat?
Can I lay down?
Can we lock the door?
When is the doctor coming?
What's that? (the case of swabs)
What are these? (the stir-ups)
When I grow up and become a lady, I want to use those to get my baby out, okay mom?
Ugh...how long until the doctor comes?
I don't like my wife.

yeah -- you read that last one right.  He actually said to me, "I don't like my wife."  Good God, I do not know where that came from, but it was so funny that I laughed until I cried.  

Whitey

Today I was reminded about how very, very white I am.  Let me give fair warning that what you're about to read may cause horror and/or disgust -- if you like animals or can't stand the thought of eating them...just choose to ignore this post.

This afternoon my mother-in-law calls me up, "we're having some dinner here tonight, would you like to come?" I say sure.

I cooked my own food anyhow and brought it with me (thank God for this).  Turns out that my mother-in-law's food is a meal of stewed goat -- with the extra specialty of the head.  *shudder*  There she is ripping pieces of meat off the bones, then breaking the skull apart to pass out the brains.

"Here, Heather, do you want some brains?"
"No, thank you," I reply as I shrink away from her offering, "I'm way too white for that."


They laugh.  Mr. Delusional and his brothers all happily munch away on the parts that the typical western folk wouldn't dare touch.  I was happy to see my sister-in-law was equally disgusted by it all.

Then, I look up to see Adam, sitting by my mother-in-law's side - blissfully munching away on a piece of brain. "More chicken, please" he says.

I died right there.  Just felt my soul fall right out of me.  I mean, I'm not one to freak out about eating meat. I eat it all the time.  I do, however, have a problem when the meat that I'm eating looks like the animal.  A steak doesn't look like a cow plodding through a field.  A drumstick doesn't make me think of a chicken happily cock-a-doodling in the morning.  A goat head on a platter however, makes me think, "maa-a-a-aa."

I don't even have an ending for this.  I think I'll dream of poor little sad goats tonight.  :(

I'm back, did ya miss me?

So, I've been back from Mexico now for long enough that my brain has had a chance to absorb all the things that I saw there (some good, some not so good) -- don't worry, I've still got more to write on my Mexico Blog  but I have homework and kids and life to deal with first.

Which brings me to my post.  Apparently I was missed.  Poor Mr. Delusional has come to the realization that I do a lot more than he thought I did (I don't even want to know what he thought).  On Saturday, I was blissfully sleeping in and he did a load of laundry *gasp* -- sure, he messed up my routine, but I forgave him.  The kids were making their own lunches all week Adam has started weaning himself from his blanket...I feel like somehow I missed out on a whole lot while I was gone.

Things were back to normal pretty quickly though. Iman and Isaac were squabbling, Adam getting into things he shouldn't and me stuck doing all those chores that I really hate - like grocery shopping.  On Mother's Day.  Woot. Woot.

Not much else happened for me on Mother's Day - I got a home-made card from Isaac, spent some quality time with Iman, and visited with friends.  At bed time, as I snuggled with Adam, he kissed me on the cheek then sat there rubbing it for a bit.  "What are you doing?" I asked.  "Rubbing my love in so that it reaches your heart." he said.

Best. Mother's Day. EVER.

(Oh - a post script to my own mom - There is an entire post developing in my brain - dedicated to you and your awesomeness.  I can never thank you enough for everything you've done.  Love you.)

Sickness

We were warned from the very beginning not to drink the water here.  We are not to use it to brush our teeth, and we are not even to use our dishes unless they are dry.  

But - the habit of sticking your toothbrush under the tap and brushing was just too much for me to break.  I'd always remember after I'd had the toothbrush in my mouth, or better yet, as I was putting it away.

Well, my habit has come back to bite me.  I was sick last night.  Violently, horrendously sick.  I don't want to disgust you with details, but let's just say that both ends were going so strongly that my body still aches from it today.  

I hurt.  My stomach feels like I've been punched by Mike Tyson, my aching back and arms feel like I've been through boot camp.

So, a little word of advice from your dear friend Hethr:  When in Mexico remember to use the bottled water for anything that will eventually go into your mouth.

Pray for me friends.  I don't know if I'll survive another night like the last one.

Getting lost

A few days ago I was sent with a smaller group of other students to the orphanage to play with the girls and bring some of the donations down to them.  We arrived in a cab, spent a fun few hours playing with them, and then decided we'd walk home to see San Miguel de Allende on the way back.  It was only about a 10 minute cab ride there, so we thought it wouldn't be so hard.  Our teacher even said, "If you get lost, just keep the Parish of San Miguel in your sites because our hotel isn't far from there."

This is our group - very, very lost

Ha, easier said than done.  We found dead end after dead end.  Within the down town area, all the street names are written on the sides of the buildings, this was not the case out there.  We had no idea where we were and our limited Spanish was quite the amusement for the locals that we asked for directions.

We turned one corner and found a little store - bought some pop and tried to ask them how to get back to our street, we just got shrugs.

We walked for about 20 minutes, found a gaggle of children hanging out on their front step and asked them, they laughed and laughed....we asked them where the parish was and got these stares of "you've got to be kidding me" -- they pointed down the street and after two steps, we saw the parish - very far away, but so very obvious that we now understood why we got the looks we did.

We met a man on the side of a street and asked him where we were on our map.  He motioned to us that he didn't have his glasses, so one of my classmates, Gail, pops hers off her head and gave them to him.  He still couldn't find where we were.

Suddenly, I realized that I was missing my camera.  A surge of panic washed over me as I remembered last having it at the place where we bought our now empty pops.  We were torn - do we turn back and try to find it after all those twists and turns, or do we just give it up as a lost cause...that's when I looked at another student, Linda, who had my camera slung over her arm...she even forgot she had it too!  So the hunt to get home was back on.

We knew we were getting close when we went from dirt roads to a new, nicely paved one.  Still nothing looked familiar.  We walked for another 10 minutes or so.  We saw two men holding an adorable little baby on the side of the street chatting away to one another.  We walked up to them, holding out our map and asked, "Donde??"  One of the man looks up and says, "You lost?"  Oh, how sweet it was to hear English!!  He tried to find where we were on the map, told us our map was too old and then said, "You're only about a 10 minute walk from where you want to go....if you know what you're doing."

Right.  We had no idea what we were doing!!  He told us to stay on this road and eventually a cab would come.  He was right.  We all piled into the back of the cab - we were rescued by Alfredo.  With all 5 of us in his car, we made it bottom out on every speed bump (of which there are MANY).  He charged us an extra 10 pesos, but we made it home.

What an adventure!  It ended up taking us more than 45 minutes to get home...but I wouldn't trade in that experience for the world!

Funny things can happen while in Mexico

Well, I just finished a little mini journal on one of the other places that we visited...but I would be remiss if I didn't recount some of the more ... uh ... interesting experiences that I've had while here.

The first day we went out to visit with the orphans.  4 of the Madres there were having birthdays within a month's time, so we brought a cake and had a little celebration for them....they also had a celebration for us and had made us some lunch (chicken and rice) ... there were little bowls of salsa (ooooh, fresh salsa!) and some other little bowls of roasted peppers.

Our Seafood Surprise

Well, someone asked why no one was eating the peppers.  So, I cut off a piece.  These peppers didn't look any different than the pickled peppers that I used to eat in Saudi...except that they were roasted.  So, I cut off a piece about 1/2 inch thick and a good silver dollar round.  Then, I popped it into my mouth, chewed it up and swallowed it.  "That's not so bad." I said.  Then, a burning inferno came up from the depths of my stomach...it crawled it's way up my throat and set fire to my mouth.  I've eaten (and enjoyed) spicy food before, but this was beyond anything I've ever had.  I could feel the heat radiating through my body...it made me sweat and my face was red for a good 1/2 hour afterwards.  We laughed about it, and I thought it was done.  BUT...then we went walking that evening...even 4 hours after, just the motion of trucking it up the hills here was enough to slosh around the pepper juice in my stomach and I could feel the burn start again.  lol

Then, yesterday my instructor told us about how great this little seafood place was.  "They have this thing that has avocado, some cilantro, some shrimp and clamato juice over it all"  sounded great.  So, away we went. She orders one (grande) and the waitress says, "Mixas??" and Toni says, "When in doubt, say ci!" so...we did.

What we didn't know was that "mixas" meant that your lovely shrimp dish was mixed with octopus, clams and something that looked like leftovers from an anatomy class.  It was a horrifying concoction that came to us!  I tried, I honestly tried to eat it....but even after trying to dig out just the prawns, I couldn't do it.

What an experience!!

Reflections on Day One

Wow. There are not a whole lot of words for what I experienced today. What an amazing place this is; it is visually stunning.Your senses are overwhelmed by the majestic beauty of it all. I woke up this morning to the chirping of birds and the babble of water outside my window. I sat on the patio, alone, as the world woke up around me. The streets began to come alive with cars going to and fro...a dog barked...a cat stretched lazily and curled up in a pool of light from the breaking dawn. I was inhaling peace with every breath.

Eventually, the casita owner and the rest of the students woke up – we were served breakfast (so good!) and given an overview of our day. We were to be given a presentation at 10am, and then out to the orphanage by noon. It didn’t seem like too much, and I now understand why.

The morning’s presentation was given by Dianne Hart of Feed the Hungry – this place does SO much more than simply feeding the hungry. They have invested into the schools by building kitchens so that the students can have meals. Then, they needed to hire cooks to make those meals, and they 2 women from each municipality to hold the positions. On top of feeding the hungry, they also educate parents and communities about healthy eating, preventing malnutrition and teaching them how to grow community gardens so that they can plant and grow their own fresh vegetables.

They’ve also expanded and have started a scholarship program where they pay for the children to continue their education. In places where most children didn’t go to school past grade 6, they now have them in grade 10. The students have goals and ambitions now (architects, dentists, nurses, chefs) and they have hope. Hope is the most promising thing.

Her presentation was moving and stirred my soul. Please consider donating to their cause (you can choose if you’d like your money to go towards the educational or the nutritional aspects).

We had a bit of a break and then when right to Casa Hagar Santa Julia – oh my gosh...this place literally moved me to tears. The Madres have taken in these girls, most of whom are not orphaned, but abandoned. Some are removed from their homes due to violence (physical or sexual)....their stories are just horrifying. However, the Madres don’t want you to focus on the girls’ past; instead they want us to look towards the future – what can these girls be? Why were they chosen to be here? How can we help them to become strong, proud women?

We got a simple tour of the centre – it’s beautiful. The girls are learning self-sustaining life techniques such as cooking, sewing, jewellery making and more. They are all quite self sufficient and polite. I was amazed at how “together” they are. The older ones looking out for the younger, the younger ones polite and well-behaved. They were thrilled that we were there (they are so starving for motherly attention) and it was just an amazing thing to sit back and watch. They served us lunch (delicious) I ate a roasted chilli pepper (not the best idea!) and then we had a birthday “party” for the Madres (4 birthdays within a month!) – it was fun, it was heart warming, and it was so memorable.

When we left, Robin (a volunteer there who is essentially the translator for us all) told us, “You are all in our hearts, you are a part of our family.”

I sobbed. I tear up just recalling this now.

Today was a day that I will not forget any time soon.

10 years ago today...

Take another walk with me down memory lane.  10 years ago today, I was 42 weeks pregnant...yes, forty-two.  I was as big as a house and slightly depressed that I could no longer wear any maternity clothes other than a pajama -- which was made of polyester.  That wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that I was living in Saudi Arabia and the temp on that lovely day was around 35*C (or for my American friends, 93*F).  I was large, I was hot, and I was swollen.

However, I had a doctor's appointment that morning.  The previous 2 weeks I'd gone I was told "You're 3 cm dilated, you'll have that baby any day now!"  I'd stopped believing my doctor and her enthusiasm.  This time, I walked in and her face dropped, "You're still pregnant?!  Get out of here, go to the hospital, it's not safe anymore!"


So, merry me, I took along my hospital admittance papers and we drove to the hospital.  I walk in, all cheerful and happy and "yay we're having a baby" only to be stopped by a nasty old doctor who just dripped evil.  "I don't care if you're 50 weeks pregnant," she cackled, "you're healthy, the baby's healthy, go home!"  Then she got on her broom and flew away.  Well, not really, but that's essentially what I imagined.  :(

I softly cried to myself and began to waddle my way out of there, leaning on Mr. Delusional and trying to keep my wits about me.  And then a nurse came up behind me and said, "Dr. McWitch is off duty at 5, why don't you come back at 530?" and I heard the angels sing.

So we went home.  We were in the midst of moving from a 2 bedroom to a three (literally across the hall from one another, it was the kind of thing where you pick up a piece of furniture and move it to where you want it in the other apartment...no boxes or packing or any of that hogwash, so I moved some stuff around, Mr. Delusional got the bed put together and I took a nice, long nap.  Later on, we had some supper and then drove back to the hospital.  Dr. McWitch was gone and a new doctor was there.  She smiled and said "Of course we can take you.  There are a lot of women who are laboring right now, so you can just rest in your room until it's less busy."  I loved her.

I got to my room, read a little bit...painted my toenails....read some more...then they delivered a supper to me...it was 7pm.  They gave me a full chicken breast, mashed potatoes, gravy, a cup of tea and a small can of pop.  I inhaled it all.

Finally, around 1030 they were ready for me.  They wheeled me upstairs, we argued about how to induce (I wanted them to break my water...they said it was dangerous, etc, etc.  I eventually got my way).  Shortly after 11, they broke my water...the doctor tutting all the while.  I had instantaneous and very strong contractions.  The doctors and nurses decided to have a tea, because I was going to be "a while" before I delivered.

Around 1130, I told Mr. Delusional that I had to push. He pushed the call button.  The nurse came in with her tea cup in hand and said, "Oh, you're not ready to push yet, Mama, but I'll check you..." and she proceeded to lift up the sheet covering my legs....at which point here eyes popped and her tea cup dropped and she shouted, "Doctor!!  She's crowning!!"


At 1135, my beautiful baby girl was born.  Very white, very chubby (those extra 2 weeks in utero really showed) and very, very hungry.

Happy 10th Birthday to my beautiful Iman.  Love you forever!

Agoo!

So, a while back I was contacted by Agoo Apparel Inc about a review opportunity for some Agoo leggings.  I said sure, and here is my honest and fair review:

The package came in early March, simply wrapped up in grey shipping type plastic.  Inside was a pair of the Agoo Bamboo Leggings - bright green with little lizards all over them.  I couldn't have been more excited to get a "boyish" pair!  They are super soft and were way beyond my expectations.  I've used other leggings before, but they just can't compare to the Agoos!

Let me just do a quick review of leggings in general, and then why I like the Agoo so much.  Leggings are fantastic things for little babies - especially those that like to crawl around in a diaper and T-shirt (like my Adam used to) - and the thing is, his legs were always cold. After chatting with some friends about this, I discovered little leggings that he could wear.  They're great - they keep their legs covered enough to be warm, but (apparently) aren't bothersome to little dudes.  They're great under shorts/skirts especially on spring fall days.

I thought that leggings were only good for babies, but I soon discovered that my older kids were snagging them to wear on their arms (for the same reasons as you put them on the babies!)   They'd head to school on a spring day -- too warm for a jacket, but still a bit too chilly in the morning to wear just a shirt.  They'd mix and match the leggings that I have and were the talk of the school.  Everyone wanted them.

The Agoo Leggings, however, are even better - I cannot describe how soft they are.  They have been through the wash many times and have not faded or shrunk (a major reason it took me 6 weeks to review - I wanted to put them through the ringer!)  They are fantastic.  They are also bigger than the other brands that I have.  This means that they fit Adam's 3 yr old legs/arms and come up to mid-bicep on my older kids (as opposed to the other brands which barely made it over their elbow) -- those extra two inches are fantastic!  I also noticed that the elastic isn't as tight...some of the other ones that I had would leave some harsh red marks on Adam's chubby thighs, and though he's no longer a baby with chubby thighs, I don't think the Agoos would have left any mark on him.

All in all, they are a fantastic product - very happy with them -- especially right now - they are great chickenpox-on-the-arm covers!  My little man is stylin without itching!