Where to get Greek food and other tips...

I have emerged from the winter. From moving. From feeling lonely. In celebration of my bliss, I took care of myself today. First I went and splurged on a curtain I wanted. I used a 20% off coupon at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I know this sounds common place but it has taken me two months to acquire such a valuable piece of paper. After the curtain, I went tanning. Judge what you may. I have Psoriasis and my skin has not seen the sun in a few months which causes me pain. I'm not an old lady so I won't start telling you about my medical ailments, but the sun helps, even if it is in a box.

As I walked back to my car I passed a salon. Not just a standard place where I would take my kids. A real, fancy salon. I stopped in, asked if there was a haircut available and took the first chair. In Washington DC, so many young professionals are the most well-kept people I've ever seen. I desire to maintain my eclectic clothing style, but my hair isn't trendy in any standard. It was time.

The stylist was clearly European and asked me about my last cut. I told him it was in October. He visibly cringed. I remembered later that it was actually in December, but that whole month is muddled in my mind. Either way, we are talking about five to seven months of a lack of maintenance. My kids have each had three cuts since then. Why the delay? Why do mothers self-sacrifice all the time? At least I've been to the dentist, right?

Anyway, I asked him about his nationality. He explained that he is Lebanese Greek and has lived in the US for 22 years. Excited about getting an opinion on authentic Greek food, he suggested a few local restaurants. Then, the icing on the cake.

"For authentic Greek food, there is Taverna in Old Town Alexandria. People who own are from island of Crete."

"Excellent!" I replied. He went on.

"For the family, there is this wonderful restaurant. Do you know it? It is called 'Olive Garden'! For a small price of meals they bring you large jar of salad---for free! My kids don't eat it so there's so much salad for my wife and me. And sticks made of bread, so good!"

At this point, when I realized he was talking about THE Olive Garden, I had to contain my giggles. He told me of his travels to Paris, Athens, and large cities in the US. Still, he repeated his recommendation for this American/Italian franchise. Right before I left he threw in a shout-out for Outback Steakhouse, if you like that sort of place.

He firmly suggested that I not wait as long next time to have my hair trimmed. Maybe two months. Maybe when I see him again I will suggest Applebee's or TGIFridays.

My Best Friend

Perhaps my newest theme is to brag up the cool people in my life. It's my husband's turn. As you well know, we recently moved back to the US. Our 13th wedding anniversary was coming up in April and he told me to block out the weekend for some plans he had made. I imagined a concert maybe, an expensive restaurant, a nice hotel for one night. Nope. None of those things. He blew this one out of the water.

First he flew his mom down from Michigan so she could stay with the kids. This meant that my kids were overjoyed for us to walk out the door. He flew us to Seattle, Washington where we honeymooned many years before. I imagine you're wondering why we went there. Why not Jamaica? Florida? or the ever common Traverse City? Here's why. Even then, we had a sense of adventure. We wanted to do something new. Though we were only 19 years old, we wanted to create a unique experience together.

I grew up on the West Coast and I would tell him about the ocean and the way the mountains roll. Somewhere in a conversation we decided that Seattle was the perfect spot. His first ride on a plane was on that Spring day in 2001 just hours after we said our vows. Long before TSA check-points, before 9/11. We experienced rough air and he had a death grip on my arm. I tried to calm the nerves of my husband, hoping he would make it to our honeymoon destination with me. He did and now 13 years later, he travels 50% of the time, all over the world for his job. Monday he will begin a round-the-world tour bringing him to four countries on three continents in three weeks.

I am so flattered that he chose to spend his Stateside time with me on an airplane to a memorable location.

He had planned out the bus route from the Sea/Tac airport to our hotel and every possible detail in between. But he still had surprises. On the day of our anniversary, he surprised me again. we rented a car and drove to a resort to get a glimpse of Mt. Rainier. The ride up the gondola was beautiful and the weather was in our favor.


We spent most of our days roaming around town to all our favorite stops like Ivar's Seafood and Chowder and Pike Place Market.



We also went up the Space Needle with our Master and Mistress of Ceremonies who just happen to live in Seattle now. Crazy small world. Back in the day, it was the tallest thing we'd ever seen. Now it pales to the Eiffel tower in Paris, Hotel Ukraine in Moscow, and the Canton Tower in GuangZhou, China. It's still special in its own way.

But possibly the best surprise came on the last day. We rode a train to the airport to leave our luggage for the day, then rode it back into town for the Mariner's Season Opener. I haven't been to a major league game in years and to be there with my favorite person, in such a special place was absolutely stunning. He bought the tickets months ago and we were just above the first base line. I remembered quickly how to yell at the umps, cheer on the batter for a "good=eye" and hoot at a stolen base. I forgot how much I missed American baseball (not to mention the kraut covered dogs and 7th inning stretch sing-along).




When he gets back in a few weeks, we are going to see the Detroit Tigers play Baltimore. Immediately after the game, we caught the midnight flight back home. I'm glad I have a husband who knows how to treat his best friend and make new memories that will last a few more years.

My Daddy always said...

It has been my personal experience that distance causes a nostalgic endearing toward one's parents. I'm sure my kids will repeat this word-for-word later in their lives and I'm okay with that. Here's my point, we don't realize the impact of our parents until we are far away and find ourselves quoting them, doing something the way they taught, or copy-cat parenting.

A few weeks ago my sister came to visit. While she was anxious for a break from her own busy routine, I made it clear that she would be painting, sorting, shopping, and generally allowing me to boss her around (which is fun because she is older and has bossed me for YEARS!) I also took her to the National Mall and for pedis, so we're even.

In the past, my husband and I loved to tackle painting projects. Shortly after starting, we wanted to tackle each other, not at all in a romantic way, more like in a "you don't know a stinkin' thing about anything" kind of way. The solution was easy. Because my building contractor dad taught me, I know the proper way to paint. Therefore, I simply painted while hubby was at work. Then the job was done and everyone lived to enjoy it.

When my sister and I began taping the trim, we realized there would be no fights this time. We both did it the "right" way. The job was fun and easy. We laughed when Number 2 walked into the room with an injury and we quickly said, "It'll feel better when it quits hurting" a famous line of my father's. I used to joke that my arm could be falling off my body and my dad would tell me to "walk it off." When I accidentally smudged the ceiling with the paintbrush, I threw out a flippant "dog-gone-it!" Throughout the weekend we assembled furniture, hung pictures, and enjoyed work well done.

Today, I thought of my dad again. My favorite quote of his is: "Some people think they're kids are great, but mine really are." I loved that line because he meant it. I love it also because I feel the same way about the people in my home who share my name.

A while back we had to drop off a package at the post office. Number 2 quickly volunteered to run it inside. I saw him hustle to the door and I saw him politely waiting in line. While I waited in my vehicle, an elderly man came up to my window and motioned for me to open it. He said to me, "I saw a boy walk in carrying a package. Is he yours?"

From my experience in Russia, I felt like I was in for a verbal beating about the ills of allowing kids to go somewhere alone. I was dead wrong.

"Yeah, what of it?" I said
"What of it? Well let me tell you. In my 88 years of life, I have never been treated so respectfully by a young man. He opened the door for me, smiled at me, and let me get in line first. What a thoughtful, special young man. Will you tell him, please, to be a doctor? We need good people in the world like him to be doctors."

Needless to say, I tearfully accepted his praise, and passed it onto my son.

This week my kids are spending their Spring Break doing a series of Service Projects within DC. They loaded up clothes to get dirty, shovels, work gloves, and smiles on their faces. I'm so proud. Sure they get in occasional spats and sometimes don't shower as often as they should, but altogether, they are wonderful kids.

I hope the sayings I pass onto my kids are as valuable. Maybe not, "Is there any purpose to this story?" or "Don't leave the door open!" but maybe a little bit more "Prefer your siblings to others" and "Do it because it's the right thing to do."

The Hamster Diaries

I apologize in advance if this is horrifying, grotesque, or plain terrible for you to read. In some senses I am writing this for myself so I can reference back in years to come, so I don't forget the pain and lapse into indulgence.

When we lived in Moscow, many a neighbor would try to pawn off a beloved family pet upon their departure. These included hamsters, turtles, fish, and cats (mostly). Because we already had a family pet, a Russian cat named Koshka, which means simply cat, we declined every time. We brought her with us to DC because she is toilet trained (no seriously, the toilet) and I like her company. I wistfully promised my children, "When we live in America, I will get you hamsters."

I keep my promises.

A few weeks ago, after the shipment was sorted and we had obtained beds for everyone, we went to a big-box pet store to purchase three hamsters for children 2, 3, and 4. They were required to pay for the food and cages and I would supply funding for the actual pet, a meager $12.99 each. When asking child 1 if she wanted one, she was astute in her reply. "They will do all the work, pay for the cages, and I will get to play with the pets whenever I want." Well played Number 1, well played.

I required that each of my kids sign a contract to secure their responsibility. Shortly after the divine furry rodents were home, Number 3 made a rainbow painted, popsicle stick house for her little pet. I reminded her that item six in the contract required keeping the pet safe. She nodded her head and agreed with all seriousness. That evening, we discovered that the popsicle stick house had been attached to the cage as an annex for her wandering furball, called Fluffy. Our theory is that the furball wandered directly into the mouth of our hungry, foreign cat, never to be seen again.

I made her wait a few days just to drive the point home. Four days later,we purchased a replacement, called Shadow. He is a Russian breed and the cat seemed to leave him alone. Perhaps they have made a treaty because of their homelands.

Child Number 2 was very careful about not losing his hamster. One morning, Spike wandered out of an open top (!!!) and again, into the jaws of the predator. Koshka is very tidy about clean-up, as well as licking her chops. At this point, I said there would be no more.

Child Number 3 was arrogantly parading her hamster while warning that her little sister, Number 4, had better watch out because her hamster, Mento, would be next. That.very.minute...screams erupted from the girls room as witnesses watched Koshka devour yet another victim. This time, blood and crunching proving her guilt.

So Shadow was still alive. For two weeks he was the family pet. My kind, gracious husband had not reminded me that he thought this was a bad idea from the start. I voluntarily admitted my error.

Then my sister came to visit. She was helping me distribute things in our crowded apartment and reminding me that each thing must have it's proper purpose and place. We discovered a box in a closet filled with extra hamster cages and balls. She convinced me, as a way to solidify her impression as a favored Aunt, to purchase two more. I gave in.

We went to a different pet store, so they wouldn't recognize me, and purchased two more, Spot and Caramel. Their cages were attached and apparently the cat broke down the tube between the two and ate Spot. I replaced that one the next day with Lucky, the 7th and final hamster.

It saddens me as well as causes me to break out into peals of uncontrolled laughter, to inform you that Lucky is missing in action and the cat didn't eat her breakfast. I suppose conclusions can be made.

Shadow, the Russian, still remains. Caramel sleeps in the upper tubes where a cat can't reach. Maybe they are the smart ones. Maybe they will survive. One thing is sure, hamsters are not cheap, in multiple purchases. I did my part. My kids know I am not a liar. I do think that I may be an idiot though.

ADDENDUM: Shadow, the Russian, died unexpectedly during a family vacation in July. Though his body has not been located, the authorities have a pretty good idea where he went. He was replaced by Avila, another Russian.

Cue Reality

I got my first water bill.

Why does water cost anything!? And, who in my house is using up all the water? Could it be the three female children who feel like a proper shower has to be THIRTY MINUTES LONG?

"SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! No, seriously. And stop opening the patio door so the cat can sniff the outdoors. She won't go out, stop letting her sniff. We haven't had to pay for heat in a few years. Don't waste it now." I'm half tempted to tell the kids to leave the microwave open after they use it so we can absorb that extra little bit of warmth. Or maybe heat from the lightbulbs...no that leads to..

"TURN OFF THE LIGHTS!" After living in a place where you get cloudy daylight for six hours in the winter, I always justified the light usage. Now. Not so much. The bright Virginia sunlight streams into our rooms every morning. Open the shades, for heaven sakes!

If you are fortunate enough to picture Number Four in your mind, imagine her frizzy side ponytail, teeny-tiny glasses, one hand on her hip, and a pointer finger sweeping across a wooden piece of furniture collecting a nest of dust. Her reaction; "Ummmmm, when is somebody going to come to clean this up?"

She wasn't joking! During our time in Moscow, we had a once-a-week housekeeper who mopped floors, dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned our five bedrooms and four bathrooms. We've majorly downsized so I'm pretty confident that my small tribe and I can handle the task. I had no idea my pampered little darlings had become so disillusioned about the responsibility of house cleaning. Seriously, that's an integral part of homeschool life skills training.

When you live overseas, it is socially acceptable (and encouraged) to have domestic help. My once-a-week help was minimal by most standards, but the peace of mind she offered to me was invaluable. Plus, we grew to love our Natalia and her funny Russian ways.

I know that later this month I will get electric bills, natural gas bills (at least it's not propane!), internet, and phone bills. Uncle Sam, (and Mom and Dad) I would like to thank you for the years of free utilities. Lesson learned.

Keeping up with the Joneses

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings so I will try to tread lightly. I'm not sure I'm good at being an American mother. Most of my concerns in Moscow revolved around the proper feeding, dressing, and educating of my four offspring. Suddenly I am laying awake at night worrying about which organized activity is best, whether my kids will make quality friends, and how in the world I can educate them on pop culture.

Realization: I am a homeschooler who has lived overseas for the last 3.5 years. No matter how I do it, my methods will never be the same as my friends whose kids are in a formal institution and have lived here their whole lives. My kids know world geography better than most adults I come across, but they don't understand jokes about Justin Bieber. In my short, five weeks in this wonderful town, I have managed to enroll Number 1 in gymnastics and youth group, Number 2 in baseball, bought three hamsters (or four?) joined a local aquatic center, and started attending Bible study. I think we're doing pretty well, but something nags at me that it's not enough.

When I've tried to get acquainted with other moms (homeschoolers included) I feel overwhelmed by their droning about who has to be where and when. In the evenings our family likes to watch Jeopardy (finally on at an appropriate time), read good books aloud, and play games. I like riding the bus and the metro. Though I drive a mini-van, I don't want to live in it. That's why we pay through the nose for a cozy apartment.

Consider this my deep breath.

Right now, I've still got to find us a mechanic, a doctor, a dentist, and stop using the GPS to get to church. I have to figure out the new budget and figure out how to cook when I'm running errands every day just to make our house complete. I'm also trying to get four people through 1st, 3rd, 5th, and 6th grade without too much trauma.

It's not them. It's me. I like us. I like our dynamics. It just feels different and scary.

Starting Over

In moving back to America, we didn't just settle back in our old hometown to people and places we knew. We moved to Washington DC where everything is unfamiliar and exciting. I didn't realize just how exciting until I took my kids to the grocery store. We walked to get there, because that's what we like to do, and arrived at a food wonderland with only four cars parked outside. In every aisle, the kids were exclaiming, "Look at this!" or "OOOOOoooo, they have those!" We indulged in things like sweet strawberries, packets of oatmeal, and a gallon jug of chocolate milk for only $4.59. That afternoon, we hopped in the car to discover the local library. My younger ones don't remember the library at all and again I was met with faces saying, "Really? We can take these books home?" One mistakenly cut out a template page in the back of a craft book because she thought all books that enter our home are "ours".

Before we left for Moscow, instead of storing anything, we sold all of our furniture and vehicles. After our current arrival back in the US, we bought a ten-year-old vehicle and our kids think it's the coolest thing ever! Honestly, compared to the 1993 Astro van we drove in Moscow, it's definitely an improvement. Last night we took the city bus to the mall. We were all amazed how much it didn't smell. Yay for public transit.

Now the downside. We have been sleeping on air mattresses. There wasn't a dinner table, chairs, or couches when we moved in. I didn't have to live this way when we went overseas because government housing provides all of your furniture. Don't misunderstand, I don't really want Drexel Heritage French Colonial right now, but a couch would be nice. This led to dumpster diving. We found two amazing patio chairs and an ottoman outside the trash chute at our apartment. The kids quickly grabbed rags and we took turns sitting in the reclining lawn seats in the living room. I feel 19 again. A few weeks and several Craigslist negotiations later, we have some beds and some chairs. It's not complete but we're getting there.

Another funny thing about America. Each store has a discount card that fits on your keyring. I'm actually enjoying getting one at every store. It's good practice to remember my address and feel like I'm part of this locale. So far I've collected one at the supermarket, one at the auto store, and one from the library. I wonder where I'll get one next.