The morning wasn't too unusual, except for the fact that Helen didn't come to our bed until 6:00. By the time I got talked out of bed, it was after 7:00 and four children were awake. At 9:30 the four girls and Grace and I left, I dropped Marie, Katie, and Helen off at Tots, took Grace to the doctor, then took Grace home, then went back to Tots until it finished. And then...
A friend had asked me to come over today to help her put together a stool from Ikea, and since I was coming, to have lunch with her as well. That was already quite an anticipated treat. Then when Elisabeth and I arrived, we discovered that we were getting even more of a treat than expected: Barbie took us out to eat in a restaurant! I have actually been out to eat in a restaurant with just my husband (or just my husband and the youngest child) several times in the last 13 1/2 years, but this is the first time I can ever remember eating out with another friend and no children (Elisabeth was asleep at first, so didn't count), so it was quite a novel experience. Sitting at such a small table, not having to read the menu out loud, only looking for my own food--all cool. Elisabeth did eventually wake up and ate some of my rice and some chips (french fries, that is, or actually potato wedges, I guess--nice, thick ones made from real potatoes) that the owner gave her.
And then...after we finished eating, we kept sitting there, and talking! Finishing whole sentences and everthing! Just enjoying the warm breeze (we were sitting outside), laughing at Elisabeth playing with other customers, and just...sitting. THAT was the most novel part of it all. Wow. Amazingly, my children are actually pretty well-behaved in restaurants most of the time (I suspect because it's such a rare treat to eat out), but we do know when to leave, and that is SOON after finishing eating.
Just as we arrived back at Barbie's place, Jörn called to ask if I'd be home soon. Um...well, we hadn't actually started putting the stool together yet. So we did that, quick and easy (I do enjoy putting together Ikea furniture!), and I headed home. What a cool break in the middle of my day.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Greek
I really do want to learn Greek. It's made challenging in general here by the fact that virtually everybody speaks English. (Most of the people I've met who don't speak English don't speak Greek, either, or at least, not more than I do.) Added to that the fact that I'm surrounded by English-speakers (and one German-speaker) and don't really get out much, and it's kind of amazing that I've learned any Greek at all.
Before we moved to Cyprus I did a few lessons on-line, which meant that when we arrived, I could point to a table and say with confidence in Greek, "This is a table!" and to a window and say, "That is a window!" But not a whole lot more. I learned the alphabet from a book and learned some greetings and a few more nouns from Greek speakers at Tots and Co.. After we'd been here for a few months, we took four or five private lessons as a family, but that wasn't really effective for me, as I was already "so far ahead" of the others, nor for the others, because they weren't that interested, and although it wasn't too expensive for what we were getting, it wasn't too good for our budget.
Finally, in October of our first year here (so nine months after moving to Cyprus), I was able to start a beginning Greek course subsidized by the government. An hour and a half each lesson, once a week, from October to May, excluding all sorts of holidays and of course Christmas and Easter vacations of two weeks each, so I think about 25 lessons, in all. I missed the first two classes because I was sick, but as the first six or so weeks were spent learning to read, that didn't matter. Then I missed five lessons while we were in the U.S. and Germany for my parents' anniversary (and my brother's wedding and a bunch of birthdays and visiting lots and lots and LOTS of people), but it turned out to be disappointingly easy to catch up. (Disappointing because it meant that the class was moving VERY slowly.) At the end of the class I got a lovely certificate that I can read out loud but don't understand, which says, I assume, that I completed the first level of Greek.
Then in September I got the news that there were going to be new classes starting, sponsered by the European Union, and that they would be completely free of charge. (The previous class was something like €45, which for 25-ish lessons isn't bad, but free is of course nicer!) Andrea and I went to sign up, with the idea that at least from October until the end of March, she'd be available to babysit during my class. They weren't sure exactly when the classes would start, and we waited and waited. I wasn't sure I'd be able to manage the second level class anyway, as I was going to miss another five weeks with yet another trip to the U.S. (this time for my sister's wedding and my mother's birthday and Thanksgiving and visiting lots, but not lots and LOTS, of people). However, the classes didn't start and didn't start.
At the end of December I finally decided to get serious with the free, on-line Greek course, and talked Marie and Jörn into joining me. We didn't do too badly at first, doing the first three lessons in the last three days of December, and finishing the first 15 lessons by the end of January. We only managed five lessons in the whole month of February, and then the speakers quit working. I got new speakers for my birthday, but we've only listened twice this month, and one of those times was repeating lesson 20. So no longer quite so impressive, although we are pleased to be able to recognize some improvement.
And now, on Monday, the 28th of March, a mere six months after registering for the free program, I received a text message telling me to appear at a certain school on Wednesday, the 30th of March, at 7:30 p.m., to discuss times for the class and to take a placement test. So, this evening, I showed up. The good thing was that the teacher spoke almost entirely in Greek. The problem was that it was veryveryfastandIhardlyunderstoodaword. Nobody else understood either, though, so she did finally explain the paperwork in English. And then she gave us the test paper. No explanations, nothing in any language except Greek. Which I do think is good, but MAN was that difficult!! I'm really hoping that the idea of this test was not to ace it, but to be able to do enough of it to be in the level 2 course. If I have to go back to the beginning course and spend another month reviewing the alphabet, I know that I won't even bother.
Most of the test was matching or multiple choice, and it wasn't made in such a way that it was possible to fill in the answers without understanding anything. (That is why I don't speak any French although I got an A in the one semester of French I took in college: the tests were, first of all, anything but comprehensive, and second, had all the answers within them. So, for example, if one question said to translate "The cat is in the box" into French, another page was sure to have a picture of a cat in a box to match up to the sentence "The cat is in the box." With no motivation to study, I spent the whole semester in the back of the class chatting in Spanish with an exchange student from Spain, who also got an A and also didn't learn any French.) One section was someone describing his house, and then there was a list of statements that we had to mark as true or false. But, for example, where in the paragraph it said "the kitchen is large", the statement referring to the kitchen said "the kitchen is not small." So far so good. (Or not...I left some blank, rather than guess wildly, since the point wasn't to try to get a high score, but show what I actually know.)
The last section, however, was an essay question. Always my favorite in high school, because, depending on the teacher, I could sometimes waffle on for ages and never answer the question but still get a good grade because at least what I wrote was semi-coherent and spelled correctly, etc. (That didn't work with EVERY teacher, but I certainly knew with which ones.) But that was in ENGLISH! For this one, there were two choices. At least it was easy to decide, because I didn't understand at all what the first choice was. The second one, however, was to write a letter to a friend telling about what I do on the weekend. 80 to 100 words. After I'd written everything I could think of (carefully starting with "How are you? I'm fine!" so as to get in four words ("how are you" is only two words in Greek), I counted up, and I only had 43 words!
Then as I started to write again, my cell phone rang. I could just barely hear Marie's voice telling me that Elisabeth was NOT happy, which was pretty obvious, since that was the reason I couldn't hear Marie. I suggested that Jörn bring her to me, and sat down to write some more, this time looking through the reading comprehension questions to get some more ideas of verbs to use, and adding in some things I don't do. I was getting close to finished when I heard some wailing, and Jörn walked in with Elisabeth. She was not interested in nursing, she was just plain furious with me. After she yelled in my face for a minute or two (yes, I did go outside with her for the sake of the other students!), she quieted down, and just sat on my lap while I finished up.
The classes start next week, twice a week. A couple of friends have said that they're willing to babysit if Jörn isn't here, but I'm not sure what to do with Elisabeth either way. If we'd started last autumn, she would have been sleeping most of the time and not mobile anyway, and everyone would have been used to her by the time she got a little more active, but taking her with me starting now would probably be a huge distraction. I'm thinking of taking Marie with me, to go out with Elisabeth when she wants to play, but then Jörn (or a babysitter) has to put the little ones to bed without Marie's help, which isn't much fun.
I really do want to learn Greek, but I'm not willing to make Elisabeth miserable with it. We'll see how it goes...
Before we moved to Cyprus I did a few lessons on-line, which meant that when we arrived, I could point to a table and say with confidence in Greek, "This is a table!" and to a window and say, "That is a window!" But not a whole lot more. I learned the alphabet from a book and learned some greetings and a few more nouns from Greek speakers at Tots and Co.. After we'd been here for a few months, we took four or five private lessons as a family, but that wasn't really effective for me, as I was already "so far ahead" of the others, nor for the others, because they weren't that interested, and although it wasn't too expensive for what we were getting, it wasn't too good for our budget.
Finally, in October of our first year here (so nine months after moving to Cyprus), I was able to start a beginning Greek course subsidized by the government. An hour and a half each lesson, once a week, from October to May, excluding all sorts of holidays and of course Christmas and Easter vacations of two weeks each, so I think about 25 lessons, in all. I missed the first two classes because I was sick, but as the first six or so weeks were spent learning to read, that didn't matter. Then I missed five lessons while we were in the U.S. and Germany for my parents' anniversary (and my brother's wedding and a bunch of birthdays and visiting lots and lots and LOTS of people), but it turned out to be disappointingly easy to catch up. (Disappointing because it meant that the class was moving VERY slowly.) At the end of the class I got a lovely certificate that I can read out loud but don't understand, which says, I assume, that I completed the first level of Greek.
Then in September I got the news that there were going to be new classes starting, sponsered by the European Union, and that they would be completely free of charge. (The previous class was something like €45, which for 25-ish lessons isn't bad, but free is of course nicer!) Andrea and I went to sign up, with the idea that at least from October until the end of March, she'd be available to babysit during my class. They weren't sure exactly when the classes would start, and we waited and waited. I wasn't sure I'd be able to manage the second level class anyway, as I was going to miss another five weeks with yet another trip to the U.S. (this time for my sister's wedding and my mother's birthday and Thanksgiving and visiting lots, but not lots and LOTS, of people). However, the classes didn't start and didn't start.
At the end of December I finally decided to get serious with the free, on-line Greek course, and talked Marie and Jörn into joining me. We didn't do too badly at first, doing the first three lessons in the last three days of December, and finishing the first 15 lessons by the end of January. We only managed five lessons in the whole month of February, and then the speakers quit working. I got new speakers for my birthday, but we've only listened twice this month, and one of those times was repeating lesson 20. So no longer quite so impressive, although we are pleased to be able to recognize some improvement.
And now, on Monday, the 28th of March, a mere six months after registering for the free program, I received a text message telling me to appear at a certain school on Wednesday, the 30th of March, at 7:30 p.m., to discuss times for the class and to take a placement test. So, this evening, I showed up. The good thing was that the teacher spoke almost entirely in Greek. The problem was that it was veryveryfastandIhardlyunderstoodaword. Nobody else understood either, though, so she did finally explain the paperwork in English. And then she gave us the test paper. No explanations, nothing in any language except Greek. Which I do think is good, but MAN was that difficult!! I'm really hoping that the idea of this test was not to ace it, but to be able to do enough of it to be in the level 2 course. If I have to go back to the beginning course and spend another month reviewing the alphabet, I know that I won't even bother.
Most of the test was matching or multiple choice, and it wasn't made in such a way that it was possible to fill in the answers without understanding anything. (That is why I don't speak any French although I got an A in the one semester of French I took in college: the tests were, first of all, anything but comprehensive, and second, had all the answers within them. So, for example, if one question said to translate "The cat is in the box" into French, another page was sure to have a picture of a cat in a box to match up to the sentence "The cat is in the box." With no motivation to study, I spent the whole semester in the back of the class chatting in Spanish with an exchange student from Spain, who also got an A and also didn't learn any French.) One section was someone describing his house, and then there was a list of statements that we had to mark as true or false. But, for example, where in the paragraph it said "the kitchen is large", the statement referring to the kitchen said "the kitchen is not small." So far so good. (Or not...I left some blank, rather than guess wildly, since the point wasn't to try to get a high score, but show what I actually know.)
The last section, however, was an essay question. Always my favorite in high school, because, depending on the teacher, I could sometimes waffle on for ages and never answer the question but still get a good grade because at least what I wrote was semi-coherent and spelled correctly, etc. (That didn't work with EVERY teacher, but I certainly knew with which ones.) But that was in ENGLISH! For this one, there were two choices. At least it was easy to decide, because I didn't understand at all what the first choice was. The second one, however, was to write a letter to a friend telling about what I do on the weekend. 80 to 100 words. After I'd written everything I could think of (carefully starting with "How are you? I'm fine!" so as to get in four words ("how are you" is only two words in Greek), I counted up, and I only had 43 words!
Then as I started to write again, my cell phone rang. I could just barely hear Marie's voice telling me that Elisabeth was NOT happy, which was pretty obvious, since that was the reason I couldn't hear Marie. I suggested that Jörn bring her to me, and sat down to write some more, this time looking through the reading comprehension questions to get some more ideas of verbs to use, and adding in some things I don't do. I was getting close to finished when I heard some wailing, and Jörn walked in with Elisabeth. She was not interested in nursing, she was just plain furious with me. After she yelled in my face for a minute or two (yes, I did go outside with her for the sake of the other students!), she quieted down, and just sat on my lap while I finished up.
The classes start next week, twice a week. A couple of friends have said that they're willing to babysit if Jörn isn't here, but I'm not sure what to do with Elisabeth either way. If we'd started last autumn, she would have been sleeping most of the time and not mobile anyway, and everyone would have been used to her by the time she got a little more active, but taking her with me starting now would probably be a huge distraction. I'm thinking of taking Marie with me, to go out with Elisabeth when she wants to play, but then Jörn (or a babysitter) has to put the little ones to bed without Marie's help, which isn't much fun.
I really do want to learn Greek, but I'm not willing to make Elisabeth miserable with it. We'll see how it goes...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Page 56
There's one of those games or whatever they're called going around Facebook (again), which I didn't intend to participate in publically, but did try to privately. It says to pick up the book nearest to you, turn to page 56, and copy down the fifth sentence.
First attempt: A Fruitcake Christmas only has 24 pages, and they're not even numbered. No page has five sentences. I don't particularly care for this book (I'm being nice), but Helen loves it. She read it out loud to her doll today. "Iggy and Ziggy! Bah-humbugga!"
Attempt number two: A slightly longer book, Little Bear's Trousers, has 32 pages. They're not numbered either, but I really like this book, as well as the other Little Bear books by Jane Hissey. A Welsh friend in Germany gave them to Marie when she was little, and I even knitted (without a pattern--I was so proud of myself!) a pair of trousers (if they're red and for a bear, they're trousers, not pants, no matter what my nationality) for one of Marie's bears at her request. Lots of warm fuzzies associated with this book. But no page 56.
Third book: Charlie Needs a Cloak. 30 pages. But I love Tomie dePaola's illustrations, and the sheep totally crack me up all through the book, trying to get their wool back.
I had to lean a bit to get the fourth book, but didn't actually get up: The Cat in the Hat. The first book with numbered pages, AND it has a page 56! But no words on that page.
Fifth book: Alas, Goodnight Moon doesn't have 56 pages either. This copy is just about to disinigrate and has been repaired several times. The year Marie was born (1997) was the 50th anniversary of the publication of this book, so four different people gave this book to Marie when she was born. My grandma wrote in the copy she gave Marie, and put her trademark dragonfly stamp in it, so that copy is kept up and safe. I kept one of the others to be read and chewed on, and gave away the other two copies.
For a moment there, I thought book number six was going to be a winner: all the small poems and fourteen more has 194 pages, but again, no text on page 56. This is the poetry book with Sonlight Core 5, and I imagine one is supposed to get all sorts of deep and cool meaning out of it. I would have quit reading it to Marie and Jacob after the first week or two, but they think it is great fun to take turns reading poems out loud with the funniest dramatic and profound voice they can muster. So we do that.
Book number seven: Teeny Tiny Farm doesn't even still have all of it's original pages--there are 16 left, which does not include the front cover, so I'm not 100% sure of the title. I know the back cover was sighted earlier today, but I may have thrown it away already, since I decided that as much as Marie and I enjoyed this book when she was a toddler, there's no really good reason to keep its remaining shreds.
Finally! It took eight tries, but here's my sentence: "Abraham had a very large family and though he had no money, he was rich." Very cool. (I'll just ignore the next sentences that go on to say that he was rich because of all his sheep and goats and pretend that the author meant what he said in just the one sentence! That is known as "taking it out of context", but it suits my purposes. :-) )
I can reach two more books from where I'm sitting, and one of them does have more than 56 pages AND has text on page 56, but my main conclusion is that we need to get better at getting Helen to put the books away that she takes out!
First attempt: A Fruitcake Christmas only has 24 pages, and they're not even numbered. No page has five sentences. I don't particularly care for this book (I'm being nice), but Helen loves it. She read it out loud to her doll today. "Iggy and Ziggy! Bah-humbugga!"
Attempt number two: A slightly longer book, Little Bear's Trousers, has 32 pages. They're not numbered either, but I really like this book, as well as the other Little Bear books by Jane Hissey. A Welsh friend in Germany gave them to Marie when she was little, and I even knitted (without a pattern--I was so proud of myself!) a pair of trousers (if they're red and for a bear, they're trousers, not pants, no matter what my nationality) for one of Marie's bears at her request. Lots of warm fuzzies associated with this book. But no page 56.
Third book: Charlie Needs a Cloak. 30 pages. But I love Tomie dePaola's illustrations, and the sheep totally crack me up all through the book, trying to get their wool back.
I had to lean a bit to get the fourth book, but didn't actually get up: The Cat in the Hat. The first book with numbered pages, AND it has a page 56! But no words on that page.
Fifth book: Alas, Goodnight Moon doesn't have 56 pages either. This copy is just about to disinigrate and has been repaired several times. The year Marie was born (1997) was the 50th anniversary of the publication of this book, so four different people gave this book to Marie when she was born. My grandma wrote in the copy she gave Marie, and put her trademark dragonfly stamp in it, so that copy is kept up and safe. I kept one of the others to be read and chewed on, and gave away the other two copies.
For a moment there, I thought book number six was going to be a winner: all the small poems and fourteen more has 194 pages, but again, no text on page 56. This is the poetry book with Sonlight Core 5, and I imagine one is supposed to get all sorts of deep and cool meaning out of it. I would have quit reading it to Marie and Jacob after the first week or two, but they think it is great fun to take turns reading poems out loud with the funniest dramatic and profound voice they can muster. So we do that.
Book number seven: Teeny Tiny Farm doesn't even still have all of it's original pages--there are 16 left, which does not include the front cover, so I'm not 100% sure of the title. I know the back cover was sighted earlier today, but I may have thrown it away already, since I decided that as much as Marie and I enjoyed this book when she was a toddler, there's no really good reason to keep its remaining shreds.
Finally! It took eight tries, but here's my sentence: "Abraham had a very large family and though he had no money, he was rich." Very cool. (I'll just ignore the next sentences that go on to say that he was rich because of all his sheep and goats and pretend that the author meant what he said in just the one sentence! That is known as "taking it out of context", but it suits my purposes. :-) )
I can reach two more books from where I'm sitting, and one of them does have more than 56 pages AND has text on page 56, but my main conclusion is that we need to get better at getting Helen to put the books away that she takes out!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Happy 41st anniversary to my parents
Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad! These photos are from last year, when they took all of their children and Co. (a grand total of 21 people) to Disneyland for three days to celebrate their 40th anniversary. I hope the 41st is as much fun but more peaceful! :-)
They obediently wore their customized ears, family reunion buttons, and anniverary buttons all three days.
Mom does not exactly like the teacups, to put it mildly, but when Katie asked her, she hopped right on.
Cute.
Jacob looks happy enough, not so sure about Mom and Dad behind him!
The first day, in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle.
They obediently wore their customized ears, family reunion buttons, and anniverary buttons all three days.
Mom does not exactly like the teacups, to put it mildly, but when Katie asked her, she hopped right on.
Cute.
Jacob looks happy enough, not so sure about Mom and Dad behind him!Another ride just for Katie, but a lot tamer than the Teacups or Space Mountain.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
more funnies from children's talk
Helen is at the perfect age to provide most of the funny words and mispronunciations and misunderstandings in our house, although she's not the only one. This morning there was a great conversation between Helen and Lukas. At 8:00 I had to go to the airport to pick up Grace, a lady who will be staying in our guest flat for the next month, and since Elisabeth, Helen, and Lukas were all awake, I took them all with me. Helen was quite excited when I said I was going to the airport, and she wanted to go on an airplane as well. I said no, we're going to pick someone up. So then she asked if we were going to pick up Andrea (who was with us from September until the middle of December, and then from the middle of January until three weeks ago, and also visited last year in March/April, so that's three times we've picked her up at the airport), and after she got over the disappointment that we weren't, she asked if we were getting Evie (who stayed with us for three weeks in February), and then asked about Abuelita and Abuelito (my host parents from Costa Rica who were here for three weeks in October/November last year). Finally she said again, "HELEN go in airplane." When I asked her where she was going to go, she said, "The airplane go to the ore-port." She says "airplane" just fine, but says "ORE-port."
In the car then, Lukas tried to get her to say airport correctly.
Lukas: Say AIRport, Helen!
Helen: OREport!
L: Say air...
H: Air...
L: ...port.
H: ...port.
L: Airport.
H: Oreport.
L: The airplane...
H: The airplane...
L: ...goes to...
H: ...goes to..Ikea!
Lukas and I totally cracked up and Helen and Elisabeth joined in the laughing without having a clue why. She never did say airport.
Back at the house, chatting with Grace, Grace commented that one of the children had beautiful eyes, then another, and finally said, "You're all good-lookers!" Marie and Jacob were both still in bed, and Lukas said, with a very wise-sounding voice, "Wait 'till you meet my brother!" Jörn, Grace, and I of course all laughed at that, and then I tried to find out if Lukas meant "wait until you see how good-looking HE is," or if he meant "wait until you see him, then you'll know we're not ALL so good-looking." However, Lukas was really confused about why we were laughing, and I really only got as far as understanding that he had never heard the term "good-looker" before I realized that he was starting to feel like we were all laughing at him, so I dropped it. I never did find out what he had understood or exactly what he meant, but that didn't stop it being funny.
In the car then, Lukas tried to get her to say airport correctly.
Lukas: Say AIRport, Helen!
Helen: OREport!
L: Say air...
H: Air...
L: ...port.
H: ...port.
L: Airport.
H: Oreport.
L: The airplane...
H: The airplane...
L: ...goes to...
H: ...goes to..Ikea!
Lukas and I totally cracked up and Helen and Elisabeth joined in the laughing without having a clue why. She never did say airport.
Back at the house, chatting with Grace, Grace commented that one of the children had beautiful eyes, then another, and finally said, "You're all good-lookers!" Marie and Jacob were both still in bed, and Lukas said, with a very wise-sounding voice, "Wait 'till you meet my brother!" Jörn, Grace, and I of course all laughed at that, and then I tried to find out if Lukas meant "wait until you see how good-looking HE is," or if he meant "wait until you see him, then you'll know we're not ALL so good-looking." However, Lukas was really confused about why we were laughing, and I really only got as far as understanding that he had never heard the term "good-looker" before I realized that he was starting to feel like we were all laughing at him, so I dropped it. I never did find out what he had understood or exactly what he meant, but that didn't stop it being funny.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
today, and Re: yesterday's post
It's funny how I can forget something that, even if it might not be all that dramatically important, WAS something that I specifically had thought was cool when I first knew it. Anyway, I was reminded that the official name of Tots is "Tots and Co", to make it clear that it's not just for moms!
A friend of mine commented that when that invisible wall goes up when people hear that I have more than 1.3 children, when they're so sure that I couldn't possibly understand them being frustrated with just one or two children, I could perhaps emphasize some of the more difficult moments. The problem there, though, is that IF they believe me (and they usually don't), it's not like they develop any sympathy--they just make it clear that as far as they're concerned, if I was foolish enough to have six children, then what did I expect?
So...today. My husband is home many more waking hours than most fathers, is very involved in the children's lives and in the household. That happens to be one BIG part of the answer as to "how I manage." I don't: we do. I know a lot of single moms out there doing a great job and I admire them greatly and I don't know how they do it. One mommyblogger I've read regularly for the last three or four years recently posted about how tired she gets of hearing that. She manages because she has to. The options aren't thinkable, so they don't get thought.
My husband is completely in charge of the kitchen when he's home, which is generally about 12 of the 14 lunches and dinners that happen each week. (He's not home for lunch on Tuesday or on Sunday in a normal week. And every Sunday he prepares something to take to the house church shared meal.) For the last 15 months I've been baking bread regularly, and for the last six months I've done a lot more dishes than I used to, but that's pretty much the extent of my contribution. Even if I set the table, it's usually because my husband asked me to while he's finishing up the meal preparation. If I help clear it, it's while he's washing dishes or (as of a few weeks ago) loading the dishwasher. He also does 99% of the grocery shopping. (The other 1% is usually a child running to the bakery on a holiday or Sunday for milk or eggs, or occasionally even bread if I forgot to bake some. Maybe one out of 20 of those times, I'm the one who does it.) The children are getting better and better at various parts of these duties, the older three all able to completely prepare potatoes and slice vegetables, Jacob often preparing the meat, but it's still Jörn who made the decisions about whether we'll have potatoes or rice and how much meat to buy and so on.
Sometimes, however, he's not here, and I have to keep house just like a grown-up. He was working with a seminar from Thursday evening until tonight, which meant that on Thursday he left right after dinner and got home long after the children were in bed, and on Friday and today left before most of the children were up and got home after most of them were in bed.
Yesterday I did bake bread and put a load of laundry in the washing machine (oh, how I love having a washing machine! After two months of hand-washing everything for six of us in Thailand in 2006, I will forever be grateful for a washing machine!), and everybody got fed, and everybody eventually went to bed. At 8:00 a.m. we got a phone call inviting Jacob to go sailing, so that cancelled thoughts of schoolwork and I texted another homeschooling family to ask if they were in holiday mode. So after I dropped Jacob off at the marina, the four younger children and I spent the morning at a friend's house. Then mid-afternoon Marie left for youth group, and after dinner I took Jacob to meet someone who could give him a ride to the YWAM worship evening. Getting the four younger ones into bed wasn't so easy without Marie OR Jacob OR Jörn around, and I did wonder vaguely how I had managed it when I only did have four children.
This morning as Jörn was getting ready to leave he said I'd probably want the camera--which is how I got reminded of a birthday party this afternoon. So much for today's thoughts of calling a friend and going to the playground. At 8:10 Marie's violin teacher called to ask if Marie was coming--turns out that her lessons are going to be at 8:00 again every week, which we hadn't understood. I did wake Marie, but agreed with her that there was no point in trying to wake up enough to rush there for a half a lesson, so she went back to sleep. Elisabeth is working hard on her second tooth and was very vocal about it all morning, so I made a new batch of granola mostly one-handed, while carrying Elisabeth around, and I also finally hung up the load of laundry I had washed yesterday. It wasn't until 11:30 that I finally had the four younger children in the car to go birthday gift shopping for twin six-year-old boys. Once they were all buckled in, I ran and picked a couple of grapefruit to take to Sue. Yes, she wanted some, but my ulterior motive was that I got to leave the children in the car for about three minutes while I took the grapefruit up to Sue's house!
And then we went Shopping. My favorite thing to do. Yuck. The children had been raving about Jumbo, and several of my friends and acquaintances have raved about Jumbo, and everyone is just so glad that there's finally a Jumbo in Larnaka and they don't have to drive to Nikosia. Not having any good ideas about what to get anyway, and with Lukas and Katie begging to go to Jumbo (and even Helen telling me that she got me my duck in a waterball at Jumbo and suggesting that we get Willem and Julius ducks, too), I finally opted to go to Jumbo. Yay. It smells of plastic. And then clothes. By the time we finally got to the toys section, I had a headache and my eyes were watering and my nose was itching. The children were amazingly well-behaved, and since nobody was volunteering to help pay, I got to pick out paper and pencils and stickers and a small bowling set, and everyone was happy. It was so wonderful to get out of there. There: I have now been to Jumbo.
On the way home we stopped at Orphanides Express, a small (but not over-priced) supermarket, where I left all four children in the car (Marie and Jacob had stayed home) and ran in to get milk and eggs. That was fast and easy and didn't make my nose itch.
Once home I cut up and fried some chicken and made a casserole with left-over rice, left-over tomato and vegetable sauce, eggs, and the chicken. It was very good, but wasn't ready until 2:00. (And I only used two of the eight chicken breasts that Jörn probably meant to be one meal. I couldn't stand to touch it for any longer than that.) Marie left at 1:50 as she wasn't sure if she had orchestra practice or not--she called when she arrived to say that no, she didn't have orchestra practice, but was going to have her lesson, so that was cool. We gulped down lunch and Jacob buckled Katie and Elisabeth into the car while I got Helen in the car and texted the friends in Limassol that we would be late.
The drive to Limassol went well, helped by the fact that Katie was sitting by herself in the very back seat, and Elisabeth slept the whole way. The party was fine (something like 15 children from the age of 9 months to 10 years), pretty loud, but in a big house with a big outside area, so the noise was distributed and it was nice to chat with the other parents. Yes, I took some photos, but they all have other children in them, and I won't post photos of children without their parents' permission, so no photos here.
The drive home wasn't so great. Elisabeth screamed almost the entire time, and Helen sang at the top of her lungs until about 10 minutes before we got home, when she suddenly fell asleep. I put her in bed, texted Sue and Richard to come for a game, and then read to Lukas and Katie and had them in bed by not much past 7:30. (Daylight Savings Time starts tonight in Europe, so I figured that half an hour early was a fair compromise.) Sue and Richard arrived and we played a five-person game of Settlers of Catan, with Marie and Jacob, as well. Helen wasn't sleeping all that well and Jacob, Marie, and Sue all took turns comforting her. She woke up yet again just as Sue and Richard left, but by that time, Elisabeth was asleep, so I went to Helen that time. She was asleep within about five minutes, and when I came out, Jörn was home.
And now the clock reads 23:18, which 24 hours from now will be 00.18, so I should declare it bedtime and head for bed. I'm leaving at 8:00 tomorrow to pick up someone at the airport, and Katie and Helen have already put in their bids for a trip to the playground tomorrow, but those are the only plans I have. Oops--I just remembered that I have to finish making the bed for the lady that I'm picking up tomorrow. After traveling all night, she's probably going to want to have a nap...
A friend of mine commented that when that invisible wall goes up when people hear that I have more than 1.3 children, when they're so sure that I couldn't possibly understand them being frustrated with just one or two children, I could perhaps emphasize some of the more difficult moments. The problem there, though, is that IF they believe me (and they usually don't), it's not like they develop any sympathy--they just make it clear that as far as they're concerned, if I was foolish enough to have six children, then what did I expect?
So...today. My husband is home many more waking hours than most fathers, is very involved in the children's lives and in the household. That happens to be one BIG part of the answer as to "how I manage." I don't: we do. I know a lot of single moms out there doing a great job and I admire them greatly and I don't know how they do it. One mommyblogger I've read regularly for the last three or four years recently posted about how tired she gets of hearing that. She manages because she has to. The options aren't thinkable, so they don't get thought.
My husband is completely in charge of the kitchen when he's home, which is generally about 12 of the 14 lunches and dinners that happen each week. (He's not home for lunch on Tuesday or on Sunday in a normal week. And every Sunday he prepares something to take to the house church shared meal.) For the last 15 months I've been baking bread regularly, and for the last six months I've done a lot more dishes than I used to, but that's pretty much the extent of my contribution. Even if I set the table, it's usually because my husband asked me to while he's finishing up the meal preparation. If I help clear it, it's while he's washing dishes or (as of a few weeks ago) loading the dishwasher. He also does 99% of the grocery shopping. (The other 1% is usually a child running to the bakery on a holiday or Sunday for milk or eggs, or occasionally even bread if I forgot to bake some. Maybe one out of 20 of those times, I'm the one who does it.) The children are getting better and better at various parts of these duties, the older three all able to completely prepare potatoes and slice vegetables, Jacob often preparing the meat, but it's still Jörn who made the decisions about whether we'll have potatoes or rice and how much meat to buy and so on.
Sometimes, however, he's not here, and I have to keep house just like a grown-up. He was working with a seminar from Thursday evening until tonight, which meant that on Thursday he left right after dinner and got home long after the children were in bed, and on Friday and today left before most of the children were up and got home after most of them were in bed.
Yesterday I did bake bread and put a load of laundry in the washing machine (oh, how I love having a washing machine! After two months of hand-washing everything for six of us in Thailand in 2006, I will forever be grateful for a washing machine!), and everybody got fed, and everybody eventually went to bed. At 8:00 a.m. we got a phone call inviting Jacob to go sailing, so that cancelled thoughts of schoolwork and I texted another homeschooling family to ask if they were in holiday mode. So after I dropped Jacob off at the marina, the four younger children and I spent the morning at a friend's house. Then mid-afternoon Marie left for youth group, and after dinner I took Jacob to meet someone who could give him a ride to the YWAM worship evening. Getting the four younger ones into bed wasn't so easy without Marie OR Jacob OR Jörn around, and I did wonder vaguely how I had managed it when I only did have four children.
This morning as Jörn was getting ready to leave he said I'd probably want the camera--which is how I got reminded of a birthday party this afternoon. So much for today's thoughts of calling a friend and going to the playground. At 8:10 Marie's violin teacher called to ask if Marie was coming--turns out that her lessons are going to be at 8:00 again every week, which we hadn't understood. I did wake Marie, but agreed with her that there was no point in trying to wake up enough to rush there for a half a lesson, so she went back to sleep. Elisabeth is working hard on her second tooth and was very vocal about it all morning, so I made a new batch of granola mostly one-handed, while carrying Elisabeth around, and I also finally hung up the load of laundry I had washed yesterday. It wasn't until 11:30 that I finally had the four younger children in the car to go birthday gift shopping for twin six-year-old boys. Once they were all buckled in, I ran and picked a couple of grapefruit to take to Sue. Yes, she wanted some, but my ulterior motive was that I got to leave the children in the car for about three minutes while I took the grapefruit up to Sue's house!
And then we went Shopping. My favorite thing to do. Yuck. The children had been raving about Jumbo, and several of my friends and acquaintances have raved about Jumbo, and everyone is just so glad that there's finally a Jumbo in Larnaka and they don't have to drive to Nikosia. Not having any good ideas about what to get anyway, and with Lukas and Katie begging to go to Jumbo (and even Helen telling me that she got me my duck in a waterball at Jumbo and suggesting that we get Willem and Julius ducks, too), I finally opted to go to Jumbo. Yay. It smells of plastic. And then clothes. By the time we finally got to the toys section, I had a headache and my eyes were watering and my nose was itching. The children were amazingly well-behaved, and since nobody was volunteering to help pay, I got to pick out paper and pencils and stickers and a small bowling set, and everyone was happy. It was so wonderful to get out of there. There: I have now been to Jumbo.
On the way home we stopped at Orphanides Express, a small (but not over-priced) supermarket, where I left all four children in the car (Marie and Jacob had stayed home) and ran in to get milk and eggs. That was fast and easy and didn't make my nose itch.
Once home I cut up and fried some chicken and made a casserole with left-over rice, left-over tomato and vegetable sauce, eggs, and the chicken. It was very good, but wasn't ready until 2:00. (And I only used two of the eight chicken breasts that Jörn probably meant to be one meal. I couldn't stand to touch it for any longer than that.) Marie left at 1:50 as she wasn't sure if she had orchestra practice or not--she called when she arrived to say that no, she didn't have orchestra practice, but was going to have her lesson, so that was cool. We gulped down lunch and Jacob buckled Katie and Elisabeth into the car while I got Helen in the car and texted the friends in Limassol that we would be late.
The drive to Limassol went well, helped by the fact that Katie was sitting by herself in the very back seat, and Elisabeth slept the whole way. The party was fine (something like 15 children from the age of 9 months to 10 years), pretty loud, but in a big house with a big outside area, so the noise was distributed and it was nice to chat with the other parents. Yes, I took some photos, but they all have other children in them, and I won't post photos of children without their parents' permission, so no photos here.
The drive home wasn't so great. Elisabeth screamed almost the entire time, and Helen sang at the top of her lungs until about 10 minutes before we got home, when she suddenly fell asleep. I put her in bed, texted Sue and Richard to come for a game, and then read to Lukas and Katie and had them in bed by not much past 7:30. (Daylight Savings Time starts tonight in Europe, so I figured that half an hour early was a fair compromise.) Sue and Richard arrived and we played a five-person game of Settlers of Catan, with Marie and Jacob, as well. Helen wasn't sleeping all that well and Jacob, Marie, and Sue all took turns comforting her. She woke up yet again just as Sue and Richard left, but by that time, Elisabeth was asleep, so I went to Helen that time. She was asleep within about five minutes, and when I came out, Jörn was home.
And now the clock reads 23:18, which 24 hours from now will be 00.18, so I should declare it bedtime and head for bed. I'm leaving at 8:00 tomorrow to pick up someone at the airport, and Katie and Helen have already put in their bids for a trip to the playground tomorrow, but those are the only plans I have. Oops--I just remembered that I have to finish making the bed for the lady that I'm picking up tomorrow. After traveling all night, she's probably going to want to have a nap...
Friday, March 25, 2011
People live here
Every other week I go to a parent-child group known as "Tots". (It meets every week, but on alternate weeks I stay home to visit with a friend from Nikosia who comes down to Larnaka once every two weeks.) I think it might officially even be called "Mums and Tots", but there are regularly several fathers, grandmothers, and babysitters there as well. And lots and lots of "tots", the youngest one ever probably being Elisabeth last June when she was four days old, and the oldest one usually being Katie. Rarely are there any other children over three, as most children here go to nursery school at age two or three.
We meet in a local church, in the main room, which is nice and big and all carpeted. Half a dozen or so play areas (baby toys, toy kitchen, building, dress-up, etc.) are set up, as well as chairs around the edges. It is loosely structured and very comfortable. The first half hour is "free play", i.e. children play and grown-ups talk to other grown-ups. This is very exciting! (The children also appear to enjoy this time.) Then there's snack time, and then the older children go into another room to hear a story or two. This is an even more exciting time, because pretty much only babies are left and the grown-ups even get to hear each other while they talk. Then the older children come back and there's more free play time, with playdough at one table and a craft at another. After tidy-up time, we all sit in a huge circle and sing songs.
Most people probably think I go to Tots to give Katie, Helen, and Elisabeth some social interaction, a chance to play with other children and different toys, and so on. That isn't entirely untrue, and of course, I wouldn't go if they didn't enjoy it. I also like it that they get to play with playdough and do messy crafts, and I don't have to clean it up. But in all honesty, my main motivation is to get OUT and to talk with ADULTS. I do see other adults during the week, getting together with my friend Sue at least once a week, often twice, my friend from Nikosia every other week, and occasional other visitors, as well as house group once a week and often having people over for a meal, and playing games with Sue and Richard once or twice a week. But the children are almost always also fully involved in whatever activity we have, or in the case of playing games, we focus on the game. My main real communication with friends goes on via e-mail. So my only opportunity to interact with other adults (or whatever one wants to call them and/or me...people older than my children, anyway) is Tots. With 30-40 children from newborn to age five playing around us, we have considerably more opportunity to converse than at home with my six. It's quieter, too.
Admittedly, most of this contact is fairly superficial. We sit on the carpet with each other and talk about babies' teeth and whether he's crawling yet or what she said yesterday and so on--our children pretty much tend to stay the topic. But it's companionable and I enjoy it.
I also like it that it's a constantly changing group (although I miss some of the people who don't come any more, now that their children are in nursery), with new faces every time I go. I like meeting new people and hearing about different experiences, and lately, there have been more and more Cypriots, too, some who don't even speak English, which means I get to practice my Greek. (Well, sort of. I can tell them how old my baby is and ask them how old their babies are, but we don't generally get a whole lot further than that.) And the best is when people don't know how many children I have.
It's not that I'm in the slightest bit embarrassed about the number of children I have, it's that the number isn't relevant. Six is just a number. Having six (living) children doesn't make me braver or stronger or crazier or smarter or dumber or more patient or more tired or more energetic or better or worse or anything else-er than someone with two or three or eight or ten or 19. I might BE braver or crazier etc., but I'm still a mommy who goes as goo-goo over my newest baby as I did over my first, and I get just as tired when a baby keeps me up all night, and just as frustrated when the baby is inconsolable and I don't know why. I don't have any more answers than anyone else. Actually, I probably don't have as many. When I had only one child, I knew that the best way to hold a fussy baby was like this. Then I had a second child, and I knew that some babies like this and some like that. When I was pregnant with my third, I wondered if he'd be more like my first or more like my second. Nope--my third is like my third, and like nobody else on the face of the earth. And so it goes. A friend of mine in Germany had this quotation on the birth announcement she sent for their sixth child: Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. ~John Wilmot
So anyway, I have the idea that most of the other parents at Tots are looking for the same thing I am--friendly chit-chat with people who use whole sentences. The topic doesn't matter a whole lot, but there's a certain amount of asking what others think, and a certain amount of looking for ideas. Mostly, I think, it's about reassurance that we're not alone. I'm not generally too big on "wanting to belong", but I confess that I enjoy that feeling of belonging. Of sitting with other parents who know what I'm going through, good and bad, because they're going through the same thing.
Which is where the problem comes in when people hear how many children I have. We'll be sitting there rolling balls back and forth with our two little nine-month-olds, commenting about how one has more teeth and the other more hair and so on, oh look, isn't it cute how they're looking at each other, nice and easy and companionable. Non-threatening. Then we might even mention something that's less positive, such as the baby teething all night. We start to exchange coping strategies. We both want to hear the other's ideas or feelings, we're curious and we're sympathetic. And then, eventually, I get asked, "Do you have other children?" Sometimes I can deflect a bit, by saying, "See that girl over there in the red dress?That's my two-year-old." I didn't say she was my ONLY other child. But people are persistant and I'm a lousy liar, and invariably it comes out that I have six. And invariably, a wall goes up.
I don't know how many times I've heard, "Oh, then you're an expert!" Um, no, not exactly. Elisabeth is the only Elisabeth I've ever had. Marie is the only oldest child I've ever had. Jacob is the only first son I've ever had. Katie is most certainly the only Katie of this type that the world has ever seen. People never really believe me that having more than 1.3 children doesn't make me an expert.
They also never really believe me that I'm not super-organized and I'm not super-patient. (That's what separates my friends and family from casual acquaintances: my friends and family are laughing themselves silly at the idea of me being organized or patient.) They laugh off my protests and claim I'm being falsely modest. They no longer have any sympathy to offer on how to juggle laundry and teething, and worse, they no longer accept any sympathy from me on the same subject. They say that I couldn't possibly understand, since I obviously am above that, that they're just being silly, that it doesn't matter. That's the hardest thing for me, when they won't open up any more because they're so sure that I won't have any sympathy on the matter.
Most don't seem to believe that we're not just one big happy jolly family 100% of the time, because that's what big families are. The others don't believe that life isn't miserable with so many children around. Nobody believes that there are great times and awful times and loud times and quiet times (sometimes, yes truly, sometimes even when the children are NOT all asleep and ARE all home!) and fun times and sad times and even middling times. Basically, that we're people, too. And that the numbers don't matter.
We have Marie and Jacob and Lukas and Katie and Helen and Elisabeth. Not numbers.
We meet in a local church, in the main room, which is nice and big and all carpeted. Half a dozen or so play areas (baby toys, toy kitchen, building, dress-up, etc.) are set up, as well as chairs around the edges. It is loosely structured and very comfortable. The first half hour is "free play", i.e. children play and grown-ups talk to other grown-ups. This is very exciting! (The children also appear to enjoy this time.) Then there's snack time, and then the older children go into another room to hear a story or two. This is an even more exciting time, because pretty much only babies are left and the grown-ups even get to hear each other while they talk. Then the older children come back and there's more free play time, with playdough at one table and a craft at another. After tidy-up time, we all sit in a huge circle and sing songs.
Most people probably think I go to Tots to give Katie, Helen, and Elisabeth some social interaction, a chance to play with other children and different toys, and so on. That isn't entirely untrue, and of course, I wouldn't go if they didn't enjoy it. I also like it that they get to play with playdough and do messy crafts, and I don't have to clean it up. But in all honesty, my main motivation is to get OUT and to talk with ADULTS. I do see other adults during the week, getting together with my friend Sue at least once a week, often twice, my friend from Nikosia every other week, and occasional other visitors, as well as house group once a week and often having people over for a meal, and playing games with Sue and Richard once or twice a week. But the children are almost always also fully involved in whatever activity we have, or in the case of playing games, we focus on the game. My main real communication with friends goes on via e-mail. So my only opportunity to interact with other adults (or whatever one wants to call them and/or me...people older than my children, anyway) is Tots. With 30-40 children from newborn to age five playing around us, we have considerably more opportunity to converse than at home with my six. It's quieter, too.
Admittedly, most of this contact is fairly superficial. We sit on the carpet with each other and talk about babies' teeth and whether he's crawling yet or what she said yesterday and so on--our children pretty much tend to stay the topic. But it's companionable and I enjoy it.
I also like it that it's a constantly changing group (although I miss some of the people who don't come any more, now that their children are in nursery), with new faces every time I go. I like meeting new people and hearing about different experiences, and lately, there have been more and more Cypriots, too, some who don't even speak English, which means I get to practice my Greek. (Well, sort of. I can tell them how old my baby is and ask them how old their babies are, but we don't generally get a whole lot further than that.) And the best is when people don't know how many children I have.
It's not that I'm in the slightest bit embarrassed about the number of children I have, it's that the number isn't relevant. Six is just a number. Having six (living) children doesn't make me braver or stronger or crazier or smarter or dumber or more patient or more tired or more energetic or better or worse or anything else-er than someone with two or three or eight or ten or 19. I might BE braver or crazier etc., but I'm still a mommy who goes as goo-goo over my newest baby as I did over my first, and I get just as tired when a baby keeps me up all night, and just as frustrated when the baby is inconsolable and I don't know why. I don't have any more answers than anyone else. Actually, I probably don't have as many. When I had only one child, I knew that the best way to hold a fussy baby was like this. Then I had a second child, and I knew that some babies like this and some like that. When I was pregnant with my third, I wondered if he'd be more like my first or more like my second. Nope--my third is like my third, and like nobody else on the face of the earth. And so it goes. A friend of mine in Germany had this quotation on the birth announcement she sent for their sixth child: Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. ~John Wilmot
So anyway, I have the idea that most of the other parents at Tots are looking for the same thing I am--friendly chit-chat with people who use whole sentences. The topic doesn't matter a whole lot, but there's a certain amount of asking what others think, and a certain amount of looking for ideas. Mostly, I think, it's about reassurance that we're not alone. I'm not generally too big on "wanting to belong", but I confess that I enjoy that feeling of belonging. Of sitting with other parents who know what I'm going through, good and bad, because they're going through the same thing.
Which is where the problem comes in when people hear how many children I have. We'll be sitting there rolling balls back and forth with our two little nine-month-olds, commenting about how one has more teeth and the other more hair and so on, oh look, isn't it cute how they're looking at each other, nice and easy and companionable. Non-threatening. Then we might even mention something that's less positive, such as the baby teething all night. We start to exchange coping strategies. We both want to hear the other's ideas or feelings, we're curious and we're sympathetic. And then, eventually, I get asked, "Do you have other children?" Sometimes I can deflect a bit, by saying, "See that girl over there in the red dress?That's my two-year-old." I didn't say she was my ONLY other child. But people are persistant and I'm a lousy liar, and invariably it comes out that I have six. And invariably, a wall goes up.
I don't know how many times I've heard, "Oh, then you're an expert!" Um, no, not exactly. Elisabeth is the only Elisabeth I've ever had. Marie is the only oldest child I've ever had. Jacob is the only first son I've ever had. Katie is most certainly the only Katie of this type that the world has ever seen. People never really believe me that having more than 1.3 children doesn't make me an expert.
They also never really believe me that I'm not super-organized and I'm not super-patient. (That's what separates my friends and family from casual acquaintances: my friends and family are laughing themselves silly at the idea of me being organized or patient.) They laugh off my protests and claim I'm being falsely modest. They no longer have any sympathy to offer on how to juggle laundry and teething, and worse, they no longer accept any sympathy from me on the same subject. They say that I couldn't possibly understand, since I obviously am above that, that they're just being silly, that it doesn't matter. That's the hardest thing for me, when they won't open up any more because they're so sure that I won't have any sympathy on the matter.
Most don't seem to believe that we're not just one big happy jolly family 100% of the time, because that's what big families are. The others don't believe that life isn't miserable with so many children around. Nobody believes that there are great times and awful times and loud times and quiet times (sometimes, yes truly, sometimes even when the children are NOT all asleep and ARE all home!) and fun times and sad times and even middling times. Basically, that we're people, too. And that the numbers don't matter.
We have Marie and Jacob and Lukas and Katie and Helen and Elisabeth. Not numbers.
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