Party in the USA

Last year we celebrated the nation's independence in Moscow on the green grass of the Embassy lawn. We organized our own celebratory breakfast, flag salute, parade, pie baking contest, water balloon launch, and general patriotism. It was my most favorite July 4th ever. It was spent with some of my favorite people and I had the winning pie, so that made it good. It is rumored that in the football game, my husband threw and his friend caught the winning touchdown against the Marines, but that's just heresay, no one can confirm.

This year, we played tourists in our new town, so we went to the parade. Many years ago, my little brother marched with his high school band on these very streets. We watched for an hour (eight bands later) and the kids were pretty bored. After seeing real-live tanks roll down the road at the Victory Day parades, it was a little lackluster. Plus, there was no candy? When did that happen? How long have I been away?

Number 2 with his esteemed Marines.


We went back home for the afternoon where we grilled hamburgers and hot dogs. There was homemade apple pie, but it wasn't the same. No Marines, no water balloons. How can a holiday feel more patriotic in a different country?

That evening, we headed out again to secure a spot near the Iwo Jima memorial. Clearly, it was a good pick because most of the newspapers photos were taken from the same spot. Here's one my husband took. It was beautiful over the monuments. Some of our favorite fireworks were smiley faces, stars, and the ones that looked like they were spinning.

We made it back home, washed our feet, and called it a day. But it felt like any day.

Help me Understand

If this is you, I don't mean you. I'm mostly referring to my shock at American culture.

When I lived out in the country in suburban Michigan, many moons ago, I got showered and dressed for the day because I thought it was a good idea. I could parade around in my sweatpants (lovingly called the home uniform) but I chose to be presentable most of the time, should anyone unexpectedly knock on my door.

This served well when I moved to Russia. There were always tradesmen in and out of the house, neighbors dropping by, new people in the neighborhood. Being dressed worked well. With one exception; if I was waiting on a certain service to be completed (such as toilet plunged, dishwasher fixed AGAIN, etc) and I found that it was being delayed, without fail, if I stayed in my pjs, it was then that the doorbell would ring. Every. Time. Magic.

In Moscow, the question about my attire was, "heels or no heels?" Most Russians are dressed to the nines at all times. Granted they may have worn that outfit three days in a row, but they look nice. Of course, accessories like fancy coats, earrings, scarves, and purses help. I tossed tennis shoes out the first year I was there. And flip-flops. Too casual. I adopted stilettos and calf boots. When I would visit back home, I was almost always overdressed. Habit I guess.

Now I live in America again. The land of the free. Free to shop and get the lowest price. Free to drive like a lunatic. Free to chew gum as loudly as possible when on the bus. Let me get to the point.

Free to wear sweatpants outside? Free to wear athletic clothes at all times?

Every day, I wake up at 5:30am. I make coffee and get myself going. By 6:00, I am working out. I'm talking about the kind of workout where sweat gathers in places that makes body parts squeak. The kind where I secretly turn the air down to 70 just for a few minutes so I don't hyperventilate. Let me tell you. There is nothing that could keep me in those clothes all day long. I immediately shower, apply make-up, and dress. By 7:30, my kids are just beginning to stir. We begin school at 8:00.

I know I live in an athletic town. Seriously, I've felt like I should lie and say I run, just to get into a couple of conversations. But I didn't. I don't run. My chiropractor once told me that I don't have a curve in my neck so my spine is like a broomstick and my head is like a bowling ball atop it. Pounding bowling ball causes stress to the broomstick. Poetic, isn't it? No running for this lady.

I've always wanted to run. I just can't. I like runners. I wish I was one. But I'm not. Anyone who ran track with me in high school will validate these statements. I was on the track team, but I wasn't a runner.

So, this message is really a cry for help. Help me understand. Why the sweatpants? Why the athletic clothes?

Our grandmothers wore pearls, stockings, and blouses. Our mothers donned bell bottoms and t-shirts. If we are the generation who wears athletic clothes and sweatpants, what will our kids wear?

Number 2 wearing "United States of Awesome" and gym shorts. Yes, gymshorts.

City Folks in the Country

Memorial Day weekend, we headed out of the city and down to the Virginia/North Carolina border. As we drove south on 95, we could see that all those from DC were getting out while the tourists flocked in on the northbound side. No, thank you. After some meandering on a lesser known highway, we arrived at our friends' house to enjoy a long, rustic weekend.

These friends were neighbors in Moscow. We love spending time with them because we don't have to apologize for using expressions in Russian, our kids have many shared memories, and we just plain like them. Plus, I usually beat everyone at Catan. Hey, it's my blog, I can write it the way I remember it.

My husband grew up on his grandparents' lake. He knows how to fish, hunt, and do most anything with his hands. I was amazed at how quickly everything came back. He sat relaxed in a chair for hours on the dock. Though he travels the world by plane, he was so happy to take a road trip and get away. I haven't seen him that rested in awhile.

The very first day, the kids found a log in the lake. They played on it for hours and then were surprised at the red marks on their bellies. Who needs toys when you've got a log?

For the first night, our friend made a feast complete with borscht (Russian beet soup), khachapuri (Georgian cheese bread), and shashlik (meat skewers). The next day we had blini (crepe/pancakes) for lunch. It felt like home again. I made the all American dinner that night which included fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and apple pie.

Each day, we spent most of our time on the dock watching the kids, holding the new baby, and laughing about old times. One morning I was surprised to find the place next to me on the air mattress was empty. My husband was out the door before sunrise to try his hand at fishing for catfish, as he heard it was plentiful down this way. In a few hours, he and the kids had racked up a bunch using this nasty bait that smelled like sewage. He also discovered that catfish whiskers will whip you when trying to get the hook out.

During the day, my girlfriend and I took the younger kids strawberry picking in North Carolina. It took only a little while to pick 20lbs each! Since I hadn't picked in years, the strawberries tasted all the sweeter.

We grew up in the country. For the time being, we didn't know what we were missing. Namely, concerts, museums, architecture etc. Ignorance truly was bliss. Now our kids live in a somewhere-in-between. We want them to be acquainted with nature and it's joys, but also know how to analyze a painting or remain unfazed when people are nude at the beach (true story). We want both. I don't know how it will end up, but for now, getaways to the country will suffice.

It was time to go home again, back to the city where I can get all kinds of specialty foods, meet interesting people, and don't have to check for ticks daily. However, it was good to get away and remember the simple things in life. For selfish reasons, we hope our friends never leave that place. They've made a vacation spot for us and we are so happy to drive a few hours to see them. At one point, their son expressed that it "felt like a dream" to have his faraway friends close again.

When we got home, my husband cooked up the catfish and I made strawberry jam. Both things were delicious reminders of our time away.

100th Post!! (Reasons I Love Homeschool)

Since this is my 100th post (Wahoo!) I thought I should write about something really life-changing. Although getting married at 19, having four kids in four years, and moving to Russia were all incredible, nothing has impacted my life like home education. I would like to share with you today some of the reasons I love homeschool.

#1 Field trips whenever we want. We avoid the busy crowds and go off-season, Tuesday mornings, and never have to fight to see the exhibit. A few weeks ago our field trip was to Camden Yards to see the Detroit Tigers play the Orioles. Ironically it was "Field Trip Day" at the park and there were kids everywhere. Last week, the Tigers played in Cleveland and we watched the game on TV right after lunch. A little motivation to get done early always helps.

#2 We skip the stuff we know and move on to stuff we don't. This year, we avoided lots of the reading parts of the Science books. We went right on to the experiments. Yesterday the kids saw water snakes in the creek and studied them. They choose to watch documentaries in their free time. We got our standardized test scores back last week and they were all well above average in the Science department. Whatever we're doing, it's obviously working.

#3 Deep conversations at random times. Last week the kids got into a lively conversation with my husband about the Flat Earth Society. They discussed Columbus, astronauts' view from the moon, and other valid points. I sat back and observed. No one was out to prove anything, but they were able to use critical thinking to determine what they believe. A week later, they're still asking about it. This holds true for their faith as well. We expect them to know why they believe what they do, not just spoon feed it and make robots.

#4 Philosophy and Religion. This brings me to my next point. We discuss philosophy and religion all day long. We covered brief overviews of Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Native American religions, and many others. I want them to know what's out there and learn to make friends with people of all faiths. I acknowledge that homeschool allows me to present to them the Gospel of Jesus Christ on a regular basis and its effects on our family.

#5 Reading aloud This school year our family read 38 novels aloud as well as an Encyclopedia, history books, and the Bible. I don't lay in bed wishing I had read to the kids more. It just happens naturally, all day long. We read history, biographies, historical fiction, regular fiction. We read it. I know my kids know the sound of my voice. When I'm gone, maybe they'll remember this sacred time.

You may be thinking at this point, "Yeah, but these are all benefits to the kids. How has it impacted you?"

Well let me tell you.

#6 I have learned more history this year than all of my previous education combined. Because we are studying Ancient and American history, I learned so much about things I never read before. Today we learned about Nikita Krustchev. I visited his grave site last year in Moscow but I didn't know who he was. I do now. and my kids know. We read an entire Encyclopedia on American History. When would I choose to do that in my leisure time?

#7 Instant gratification. Last week there was a situation where I was explaining the conquests of Alexander the Great. My third grader said, "It's kind of like Putin. He has the biggest country in the world, but he wants that little tiny bit (Crimea). I guess things haven't changed." I get to be front and center when the kids "get it". I go to sleep at night knowing they learned something today and that I taught them. It may be an unpaid job, but on days like that, it feels like I got a raise.

#7 Flexible schedule. We always complete 180 days (36 weeks of school). The way we do it is entirely up to me. Sometimes we're feeling aggressive and we work through two weeks of material in one week. Sometimes we're feeling lazy and we take a week off. We always start in early August. We vacation in September. We take Winter and Spring breaks when it works for us. My husband is gone three weeks a month. When he's home, we don't work as hard. We enjoy him.

#8 I get to spend so much time with my kids. I don't think I'm better than you. I don't think you're better than me. I homeschool for my own reasons and you may send your kids to whichever school for your own reasons. Either way, we have the right to choose what we think is best for our kids. I'm glad to stand on my soapbox and explain my personal mission statement, but for now, I'm glad I get to be with my kids. I love them. Some days they make me crazy, but they're still my favorite people. Who better to teach them than me?

#9 The public library. This is my first experience homeschooling in America. The public library is the jackpot! Each week I pick up picture books about whatever topic we are covering that week (Civil War, Cleopatra, The Iron Curtain). I feel empowered. They feel empowered. It's like an energy shake for your social brain. A little better than FB I think.

#10 My kids actually like each other Most people say to me, "I could never homeschool. My kids would drive me crazy!" or "My kids can't stand each other." Because my kids are together all the time, they actually know how to get along. They have learned to cope with one who is getting cranky and how to help somebody feel better who was accidentally left out. It's a true honor to be around such sweet kids throughout the day, every day. After all, if I don't like them, why should I expect other people to?

To sum it up, homeschool makes us a strong family. I could write a million things more, but these are just the first that came to mind. At some point in my life I probably uttered the words, "I will never homeschool", but like most things, our refusal to try something usually ends up in facing it head on. Once I was a victim homeschooler. Now I do it by choice.

Reverse Culture Shock

Let me give you a brief education on culture shock. There are usually four phases: Honeymoon, hostility, negotiation (readjustment), and home. Within a household of six individual people, the phases come at different intensities and paces. The last time we went through this, my husband was in hostility stage and I was in the honeymoon phase. I was trying to convince him we could order pizza in a totally unknown language and make the best of it. He rode his bicycle two miles in -5F to pick up the pizza himself. Though his beard was frozen, he had warm pizza.

Now we have experienced reverse culture shock. Coming back to the US, the honeymoon phase was good. Going to places like Target on a Saturday night was like a salve for the soul.

Customer service is pretty good here and I cannot get over the ultra friendliness of everyone. Whether it's fake or real doesn't matter. They seem to care about my cart of stuff. I've noticed my kids smiling a lot. They're singing in the stores again. In Russia we maintained the indifferent face everywhere we went. They are also enjoying wearing jackets and hoodies on warmer days instead of being forced to wear hats, scarves, and full snowsuits. My apartment felt huge, I loved hopping in the car to go anywhere, and I couldn't wait to go see the sights in DC.

We got our shipment, our apartment feels smaller (even after THREE trips to Goodwill), and I am annoyed having to drive certain places. Isn't there a bus that goes there?

After six months of being in the US, I am still utterly shocked at how loud patrons maintain their volume. We went out for dinner at Johnny Rockets for Valentine's Day with the kids. The lady behind us belted out a blast laugh every few minutes. Number 2 kept jumping out of his seat and eventually quit eating because he was afraid he would choke after such surprise. It seems loud everywhere, even the library.

On the up side, I bought all beef hot-dogs and Kona beer at my local supermarket last night. And Twizzlers, Bugles, and Hazelnut Creamer. Oh, and that Breyer's Ice Cream and the HoHo's.
I went to the Weanie Beanie and had a Washington DC special half-smoke.

I was reading a study today that said some are unable to assimilate into their host culture and end up adopting ghetto mentality. This means they find people who are similar to them in culture, experience, and memory. Without even realizing it, we've done that. Lots of people around here have lived overseas, packed up their whole lives, and whisked their families away for the adventure. Many have come back, managed to begin again, and still always feel out of place. We find these types of people at church, the supermarket, the library, and even at the local parks.

We are living among our peers. I find that I naturally gravitate toward those military spouses whose husbands are deployed. I find friends in single parents where I don't have to justify that my spouse is gone 70% of the time. I find friends in people whose demographics are starkly different from mine. The fact is, I've found people. People who 'get' me. People who are willing to invest in a relationship whether it's two months or two years.

This summer, some of my favorite friends from everywhere will stop by. We'll be together again, even if it's just for a short time. We'll enjoy baseball, beer, and memories of days past. And if I missed you this time around, I'll see you before too long. People like us can't stay away.

Butter is Love

My husband is out of the country 60% of the time. This leaves me with lots of time to watch my favorite movies, drink my favorite wine, and self analyze.

Those who know me well, know that I bake with real, unsalted butter. Always have. Always will. I also like to bake a lot. Cookies, pies, coffee cakes, whatever. For the last few months, I haven't enjoyed baking. My oven has seen little action and my kids forgot how to help in the kitchen. I was in a funk.

So, what comes first, the neighbor or the baked goods?

I say this because I recently made a friend who lives in my building. Let me be clear. She's exactly what I needed! We both love our label-makers, we homeschool our kids, we like alone time and each other. She has girls who play with my girls and everybody wins. After our first couple of visits, without even thinking about it, I gravitated toward my kitchen. I whipped up some cookie bars and some cake. I found myself running down the stairs to her place in my apron so she could have cookies fresh out of the oven.

I've always said that butter is love. I show my love for others with baked goods. When I lived in rural Michigan, I baked for my friend close-by. The guys at the feed mill next door always got slabs of banana bread or cookies. When I moved to Moscow, it was for the older couples in our neighborhood, and the single guys who never got homemade anything. When I moved again in Moscow, it was for the Marines and for my favorite neighbor downstairs. She was, quite possibly, my biggest fan. I knew it, she knew it. It worked.

Without even noticing it, I didn't bake in DC because I didn't have somebody with whom to share. Someone accused me once of trying to fatten up those around me with goodies so I look better. If that means touching the lives of others using real butter, then I'm guilty.

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.