Back home my kids liked the PBS show "Martha Speaks." It featured a talking dog who was able to communicate with both humans and people. The program has forever changed my perception of dogs so that when I see them, I imagine what they would say. Stray dogs in Russia are a problem. I don't know why they don't have mean, nasty dog-catchers running around except that they would be stuck in traffic for hours each day. So---we feed the dogs.
Recently it came to my attention that children ride the metro for free. With a family of six in a city where virtually nothing is free (including public restrooms) I was happy to discover that it costs only 52 rubles (about 1.75) for all of us to ride. I was, however, unhappy to discover that dogs ride free. They are called metro-dogs. They ride the metro for however long they choose and disembark at stops where they know the scraps will be plentiful. Our stop is apparently popular.
Nearly every time we ride the metro, Number 3 points out the distinct "stinky" smell. She, of course, is never whispering or discreet, it is said with a squeezed nose and a high-pitched voice squealing in disgust. This is when they know we are foreigners. It could also be that we wear brightly colored coats; everyone here wears brown or black or sometimes....wait for it.....charcoal. Or it could also be that we smell so clean. I will admit, I only shower every other day here, but that's still very often compared to the weekly wash of the locals.
Oh and by the way, young children, sometimes six and seven year-olds, ride the metro alone to and from school each day. My hubby mentioned to my almost nine year-old that soon she may be able to ride alone. That conversation is pending. It will eventually be vetoed. After all, I may be living in Russia, but my kid still talks, walks, and looks like an American. Maybe if I got her a dog...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Moment of Reality
So I've been impressed with many deep, inspiring situations here lately and I've had a hard time expressing the scope of my change in perspective. But this morning, I got a good swallow of it.
It was a beautiful moment where I was reading aloud to my classroom (my kids) and they were engaged in, and enjoying the delightful story of Madeline. I saw number 4 put a pony bead in her mouth and I gently discouraged such behavior. Four pairs of eyes were glued to the book and I thought to myself, "what a wonderful mother I am!"
Just then, number 4 let out an ear-piercing yowl. She had removed the bead from her mouth and attempted another inviting passage; her nose. It inevitably got stuck. Now is a good time to tell you that sometimes I suffer from inappropriate laughter. It always comes at the wrong time and I am often deeply compassionate to a situation and yet exhibit the complete opposite.
This was just such an occasion.
I held the flashlight so her daddy (who had been sleeping on the couch during the story) could shove tweezers up that slimy tunnel and retrieve the sparkly bead. I was laughing so hard I had to bury my head in my elbow and try to hold the flashlight steady. For about 30 seconds, I realized that if we couldn't get it out, we would have to visit the medical center and I didn't want to make introductions for this purpose, but I got over that fear pretty fast.
With his face looking keenly up her nose, my hubby asked her to farmer blow. She did. The inappropriate laughter got worse. If my face was covered in snot, I'd be furious, but he just continued on. A few more tweezes and blows later, the bead flew out. She screamed in absolute jubilation and complete fear. I'm not sure exactly what went through her little head, but maybe it was a little bit wiser minus one pink bead.
It was a beautiful moment where I was reading aloud to my classroom (my kids) and they were engaged in, and enjoying the delightful story of Madeline. I saw number 4 put a pony bead in her mouth and I gently discouraged such behavior. Four pairs of eyes were glued to the book and I thought to myself, "what a wonderful mother I am!"
Just then, number 4 let out an ear-piercing yowl. She had removed the bead from her mouth and attempted another inviting passage; her nose. It inevitably got stuck. Now is a good time to tell you that sometimes I suffer from inappropriate laughter. It always comes at the wrong time and I am often deeply compassionate to a situation and yet exhibit the complete opposite.
This was just such an occasion.
I held the flashlight so her daddy (who had been sleeping on the couch during the story) could shove tweezers up that slimy tunnel and retrieve the sparkly bead. I was laughing so hard I had to bury my head in my elbow and try to hold the flashlight steady. For about 30 seconds, I realized that if we couldn't get it out, we would have to visit the medical center and I didn't want to make introductions for this purpose, but I got over that fear pretty fast.
With his face looking keenly up her nose, my hubby asked her to farmer blow. She did. The inappropriate laughter got worse. If my face was covered in snot, I'd be furious, but he just continued on. A few more tweezes and blows later, the bead flew out. She screamed in absolute jubilation and complete fear. I'm not sure exactly what went through her little head, but maybe it was a little bit wiser minus one pink bead.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
What are you up to?
This morning I got up at the traditional time, 9:00am, and hobbled downstairs to find my glasses. After I set the coffee pot, I plugged in the transformer, which weights about 20 pounds by the way, and then plugged in my toaster. Then I hand sliced a loaf of bread and toasted a couple of pieces. They have dozens of kinds of honey here so today I sampled a new kind. I didn't like it. I'll go back to last week's flavor.
After a couple hours of homeschool, I prepared a big lunch and cooked up some meat for later. The onions are different here too and they leave you crying for an hour after you cut them. I made fun of my husband last week when he cut them, but today I ate some humble pie with red, stinging eyes.
Then I went to work with my hubby. This sounds just as simple as "I went to Wal-mart", but it's nothing like. We commuted an hour, both by bus and metro. We spent an hour in the commissary (appropriately called the Liberty Store) where I bought tax free American groceries like Campbell's Tomato Soup and Domino powdered sugar. The bonus in this deal is that if you spend more than $100 at the store, they deliver to your house. This means that instead of carrying six bags of groceries back on the bus with me, I left with only my kids and my backpack. I'm thinking it's worth the overpriced items I purchased just for this peace of mind.
During our brief visit, I also stopped at the Post Office where I had three boxes waiting. I was very excited to get the snow boots I ordered, but my son was less than excited to discover that his pair were brown and pink. I tried to make the best of it, but I'll end up sending them back. Boys can tolerate some things in a world of sisters, but pink boots aren't one of them.
I'm back home and sitting here alone at 21:36 (that's 9:36pm) and counting backwards to try to remember what it is that you are doing right now. Maybe you're waiting to watch the world series. I'm stuck watching a compressed version of yesterday's game, but hey, whether we're here or there, the Giants still won.
After a couple hours of homeschool, I prepared a big lunch and cooked up some meat for later. The onions are different here too and they leave you crying for an hour after you cut them. I made fun of my husband last week when he cut them, but today I ate some humble pie with red, stinging eyes.
Then I went to work with my hubby. This sounds just as simple as "I went to Wal-mart", but it's nothing like. We commuted an hour, both by bus and metro. We spent an hour in the commissary (appropriately called the Liberty Store) where I bought tax free American groceries like Campbell's Tomato Soup and Domino powdered sugar. The bonus in this deal is that if you spend more than $100 at the store, they deliver to your house. This means that instead of carrying six bags of groceries back on the bus with me, I left with only my kids and my backpack. I'm thinking it's worth the overpriced items I purchased just for this peace of mind.
During our brief visit, I also stopped at the Post Office where I had three boxes waiting. I was very excited to get the snow boots I ordered, but my son was less than excited to discover that his pair were brown and pink. I tried to make the best of it, but I'll end up sending them back. Boys can tolerate some things in a world of sisters, but pink boots aren't one of them.
I'm back home and sitting here alone at 21:36 (that's 9:36pm) and counting backwards to try to remember what it is that you are doing right now. Maybe you're waiting to watch the world series. I'm stuck watching a compressed version of yesterday's game, but hey, whether we're here or there, the Giants still won.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Shopping Day
Today my family and I went to market. With several Spartan Green canvas bags in hand, four small children, a stroller, and virtually no Russian language skills, we climbed aboard the bus. Some of my preconceived notions about Russia were true. Old women still wear skirts, knee-length boots, scarves on their heads, and thick pantyhose that slump at the ankles. Younger women have bad hair dye jobs and put sparkles on nearly all of their clothing, even if their coats look like something from the 1980s that we would make fun of at goodwill.
As we walked through the town, stopping at several different stores where prices or selection were better than the last, people ogled at our parade of brightly colored coats and small people. In this big city today, I saw only one pregnant woman. Apparently, they go into hiding until their kids are four. I have yet to see a family with more than two children. Of course, where we live, American families have more, but Russian families can only afford one or two. Seeing four kids with the same parents is very odd.
I decided that although I had no intentions of going on a diet while here, the best diet plan in the world would be-----move to Russia. Here’s why. When I got on the bus, I had coat, hat and mittens on to protect me from the brisk 32 degrees outside. On the bus it was about 100 degrees and so I immediately began sweating inside my coat. Back outside to walk the block and then inside again to a store. This pattern went on and on so I was both exercising and sweating. Also, my husband and I had to carry whatever groceries we purchased so I thought twice about snacks and stuff that taste good, but are heavy and expensive.
Three hours later, we took the bus home after spending about 6,000r. My favorite item of the day was the alarm clock that my hubby bought. He’s been using some prehistoric wind up thing that ticks in the night and sounds like a fire alarm in the morning. He also bought a watch battery so he won’t miss the bus anymore and hold up at dinner. These things were priceless.
We got home, ate a big lunch and totaled our receipts. We were overcharged 500r (about $15) for who-knows-why at one store. Maybe it was our accents? Anyway, the Nutella I snuck into the cart was carefully put in a high cupboard for my own secret enjoyment. I have no idea how much I actually paid for that, but I’m sure it was worth it.
As we walked through the town, stopping at several different stores where prices or selection were better than the last, people ogled at our parade of brightly colored coats and small people. In this big city today, I saw only one pregnant woman. Apparently, they go into hiding until their kids are four. I have yet to see a family with more than two children. Of course, where we live, American families have more, but Russian families can only afford one or two. Seeing four kids with the same parents is very odd.
I decided that although I had no intentions of going on a diet while here, the best diet plan in the world would be-----move to Russia. Here’s why. When I got on the bus, I had coat, hat and mittens on to protect me from the brisk 32 degrees outside. On the bus it was about 100 degrees and so I immediately began sweating inside my coat. Back outside to walk the block and then inside again to a store. This pattern went on and on so I was both exercising and sweating. Also, my husband and I had to carry whatever groceries we purchased so I thought twice about snacks and stuff that taste good, but are heavy and expensive.
Three hours later, we took the bus home after spending about 6,000r. My favorite item of the day was the alarm clock that my hubby bought. He’s been using some prehistoric wind up thing that ticks in the night and sounds like a fire alarm in the morning. He also bought a watch battery so he won’t miss the bus anymore and hold up at dinner. These things were priceless.
We got home, ate a big lunch and totaled our receipts. We were overcharged 500r (about $15) for who-knows-why at one store. Maybe it was our accents? Anyway, the Nutella I snuck into the cart was carefully put in a high cupboard for my own secret enjoyment. I have no idea how much I actually paid for that, but I’m sure it was worth it.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
First Family Day
This morning I slept in until 9am as did my entire family! My husband taught me the word for hello last night before bed and I repeated it so I wouldn’t forget. It’s pronounced Zdraz-voot-ya. Sure enough, I woke up saying it.
Number 3 ran into our room with a tooth in her hand. I didn’t even know she had a loose one. We all got up in a frenzy to make it to the 10 o’clock bus to the metro station. We rode a dilapidated bus a few miles with lots of Filipino ladies wanting to touch my kids’ hair and then we took the metro into the city.
We arrived about a block from Red Square and did some minimal window shopping. After all, walking on brick with one stroller and four kids tends to take awhile. Plus, we’ve only been here five days so we’re still somewhat out-of-sorts. I thought number 1’s face was going to crack as she was squealing about the fact that she was at a place that she had seen in her history book back home. Definitely an A+ parenting moment.
We saw a couple of wedding parties go by and Number 3 couldn’t get over the fact that nearly all Russian women wear “shiny shoes with heels.” We paid for a porta-potty (20 rubles, about 67 cents) and hoped everybody else would hold it until we got home. After a walk around the Kremlin, a picnic lunch, and Russian ice-cream from a vendor, we took the metro back home.
We raced in the door, changed our clothes (dignitary appropriate) and headed for the bus stop where a school bus took us to the Embassy for a meet and greet with Arnold Schwarzenegger, former Terminator and current Governor of California. Like most things, it is hard to explain to four hungry, tired children how important an event like this could be in their young lives. Numbers 2 and 4 stood in the front row with their friends and he shook my son’s hand. Number 2 came up to us afterward with a huge smile on his face and said “I’ve got to call Papa and tell him!” He may not know much, but he knew Papa had seen him in movies before and would be impressed.
Anyway, not much energy left to infuse this entry with laughter, but at least I recorded it somewhere so it won’t be forgotten. I've gotta go put some rubles under a pillow.
Number 3 ran into our room with a tooth in her hand. I didn’t even know she had a loose one. We all got up in a frenzy to make it to the 10 o’clock bus to the metro station. We rode a dilapidated bus a few miles with lots of Filipino ladies wanting to touch my kids’ hair and then we took the metro into the city.
We arrived about a block from Red Square and did some minimal window shopping. After all, walking on brick with one stroller and four kids tends to take awhile. Plus, we’ve only been here five days so we’re still somewhat out-of-sorts. I thought number 1’s face was going to crack as she was squealing about the fact that she was at a place that she had seen in her history book back home. Definitely an A+ parenting moment.
We saw a couple of wedding parties go by and Number 3 couldn’t get over the fact that nearly all Russian women wear “shiny shoes with heels.” We paid for a porta-potty (20 rubles, about 67 cents) and hoped everybody else would hold it until we got home. After a walk around the Kremlin, a picnic lunch, and Russian ice-cream from a vendor, we took the metro back home.
We raced in the door, changed our clothes (dignitary appropriate) and headed for the bus stop where a school bus took us to the Embassy for a meet and greet with Arnold Schwarzenegger, former Terminator and current Governor of California. Like most things, it is hard to explain to four hungry, tired children how important an event like this could be in their young lives. Numbers 2 and 4 stood in the front row with their friends and he shook my son’s hand. Number 2 came up to us afterward with a huge smile on his face and said “I’ve got to call Papa and tell him!” He may not know much, but he knew Papa had seen him in movies before and would be impressed.
Anyway, not much energy left to infuse this entry with laughter, but at least I recorded it somewhere so it won’t be forgotten. I've gotta go put some rubles under a pillow.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
After flying with my kids for 15 hours, number 3 clearly stated a time-honored motto “it is impossible to be comfortable on airplanes.” Despite that, we made it to Russia. I headed to the diplomatic passport line and then waited. I waited…waited…and waited some more. For the first time during the trip, my kids started getting cranky, rude, and whiny. I felt like whining myself but I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.
After two hours, we got through the line to see my hubby on the other side. After collecting all the baggage, we flagged our driver who took us home. It felt so good to finally be there.
A friend made us dinner and we all managed to stay up fairly late here so as to avoid jet lag. We went to bed last night and woke up 13 hours later, which was 11am here. Hubby went to work at 6 (actually I have no idea when, I am just guessing). I found myself some pants among the suitcases, got the kids breakfast and then they went outside to ride their very own bikes.
Shortly after, repairmen arrived to fix something upstairs in the attic. They carefully explained to me in broken English that they had to replace the emergency heat which still runs in case of a power outage. What a good idea. They were here a little while when number 2 came running to tell me his bike tube was flat. I know I shipped extras but I can’t tell you where since Daddy unpacked the shipment. I went outside to look in the garage. I removed the tire and an English speaking worker came over to help me. He was very kind. He said to me “I glad you here. Your husband miss-ed you.” I explained that I miss-ed him too. If anyone has heard number 4 speak, she always emphasizes the ‘ed’ sound in words. It’s great.
A little while later, the foreman of the crew asked for my help. I agreed and we went upstairs. He needed me to turn on the dryer. I know this sounds simple. It probably is, but I haven’t been here 24 hours yet and haven’t done laundry. I tried everything and he was getting frustrated. Then he told me to call my husband and I realized, I have no idea how to get in contact with him at work. The foreman started looking through my kitchen for the manuals muttering to himself in Russian and I just stood there. He said, “We always keep in drawer. No move them.” I explained again, I have only been here one day.
My husband will be home soon. He will fix the tire and find the manuals. My friend offered to keep the kids so he and I could get some dinner alone. Number 1 told her “you are such a good person.” She is. I’m going to get washed up, if I can only find the shampoo…..
After two hours, we got through the line to see my hubby on the other side. After collecting all the baggage, we flagged our driver who took us home. It felt so good to finally be there.
A friend made us dinner and we all managed to stay up fairly late here so as to avoid jet lag. We went to bed last night and woke up 13 hours later, which was 11am here. Hubby went to work at 6 (actually I have no idea when, I am just guessing). I found myself some pants among the suitcases, got the kids breakfast and then they went outside to ride their very own bikes.
Shortly after, repairmen arrived to fix something upstairs in the attic. They carefully explained to me in broken English that they had to replace the emergency heat which still runs in case of a power outage. What a good idea. They were here a little while when number 2 came running to tell me his bike tube was flat. I know I shipped extras but I can’t tell you where since Daddy unpacked the shipment. I went outside to look in the garage. I removed the tire and an English speaking worker came over to help me. He was very kind. He said to me “I glad you here. Your husband miss-ed you.” I explained that I miss-ed him too. If anyone has heard number 4 speak, she always emphasizes the ‘ed’ sound in words. It’s great.
A little while later, the foreman of the crew asked for my help. I agreed and we went upstairs. He needed me to turn on the dryer. I know this sounds simple. It probably is, but I haven’t been here 24 hours yet and haven’t done laundry. I tried everything and he was getting frustrated. Then he told me to call my husband and I realized, I have no idea how to get in contact with him at work. The foreman started looking through my kitchen for the manuals muttering to himself in Russian and I just stood there. He said, “We always keep in drawer. No move them.” I explained again, I have only been here one day.
My husband will be home soon. He will fix the tire and find the manuals. My friend offered to keep the kids so he and I could get some dinner alone. Number 1 told her “you are such a good person.” She is. I’m going to get washed up, if I can only find the shampoo…..
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Balloon Man
Tonight I went downtown with a friend and five small children to see the most recent art exhibit. Though I was often yelling at my kids or corralling them back toward the sidewalk instead of the busy streets, we found moments of fun in the random art locations. At one stop, we played the piano for about ten minutes, each taking turns at our renditions of "Chopsticks".
We made our way to an eatery where the adults enjoyed Greek food and the kids ate hotdogs. We joined in a couple hands-on exhibits and then continued on our way. As we walked, we spotted a man making balloon animals. If I hadn't actually seen the animals, I would wonder if he was a less-than-upstanding citizen just watching onlookers. Anyway, the kids saw him and made a beeline toward him. He successfully modeled a sword for my son in moments. Then my daughter requested a cat. He groaned about how hard cats are to make and in the process popped three balloons.
At this point, it was one kid down, four to go. There would be NO moving on. The kids were trying to talk to him, but he looked up at us instead and tried to engage in a conversation about his balloon shortage. We nodded our heads and watched the clock tick as several other kids lined up. He opted for a monkey instead and handed it to her.
He started working on the next balloon when his cell phone, perched properly in his belt holster, rang. He leaned his tattooed arm across his thinned white scoop neck tank and answered it. With several children around him waiting patiently, he had a conversation on the phone which put a halt to his creative endeavors. A few minutes later, he began again on a silly hat balloon.
While modeling, he explained that he had been talking to his "supplier" on the phone (we didn't ask what they were supplying) and how he went through nearly 1,000 balloons this weekend. I didn't feel too bad for the guy since he popped another one in the process. We still had to wait.
My daughter said "I'm glad we got to come down here tonight" and he responded dryly, "Yeah me too. The only thing I want to do after I worked a long day is sit here with you kids and make balloons." I thought it impossible that he could be that sarcastic and yet still muster up the energy to actually make the balloons. Who is making him do it? Is there a balloon mafia boss? Has he shorted his supplier and has to make up for it? Will his presence in a crowd of children really protect him?
He eventually made one for each of our kids. Then he looked up at us and said rudely "Could you at least make a donation?" Incredible.
Most vendors just put a jar out and you know what to do with it. This guy had to practically beg us. I'm sad to say that his ill-constructed figures popped on the walk home. Every single one of them ended up in the trash. However, after this fiasco, the highlight of the evening was when we boarded the city bus and rode a few blocks. My daughter's smile was so big that I temporarily forgot about the balloon man. Maybe he'll be there next time. If so, I'll walk the other way around the block.
We made our way to an eatery where the adults enjoyed Greek food and the kids ate hotdogs. We joined in a couple hands-on exhibits and then continued on our way. As we walked, we spotted a man making balloon animals. If I hadn't actually seen the animals, I would wonder if he was a less-than-upstanding citizen just watching onlookers. Anyway, the kids saw him and made a beeline toward him. He successfully modeled a sword for my son in moments. Then my daughter requested a cat. He groaned about how hard cats are to make and in the process popped three balloons.
At this point, it was one kid down, four to go. There would be NO moving on. The kids were trying to talk to him, but he looked up at us instead and tried to engage in a conversation about his balloon shortage. We nodded our heads and watched the clock tick as several other kids lined up. He opted for a monkey instead and handed it to her.
He started working on the next balloon when his cell phone, perched properly in his belt holster, rang. He leaned his tattooed arm across his thinned white scoop neck tank and answered it. With several children around him waiting patiently, he had a conversation on the phone which put a halt to his creative endeavors. A few minutes later, he began again on a silly hat balloon.
While modeling, he explained that he had been talking to his "supplier" on the phone (we didn't ask what they were supplying) and how he went through nearly 1,000 balloons this weekend. I didn't feel too bad for the guy since he popped another one in the process. We still had to wait.
My daughter said "I'm glad we got to come down here tonight" and he responded dryly, "Yeah me too. The only thing I want to do after I worked a long day is sit here with you kids and make balloons." I thought it impossible that he could be that sarcastic and yet still muster up the energy to actually make the balloons. Who is making him do it? Is there a balloon mafia boss? Has he shorted his supplier and has to make up for it? Will his presence in a crowd of children really protect him?
He eventually made one for each of our kids. Then he looked up at us and said rudely "Could you at least make a donation?" Incredible.
Most vendors just put a jar out and you know what to do with it. This guy had to practically beg us. I'm sad to say that his ill-constructed figures popped on the walk home. Every single one of them ended up in the trash. However, after this fiasco, the highlight of the evening was when we boarded the city bus and rode a few blocks. My daughter's smile was so big that I temporarily forgot about the balloon man. Maybe he'll be there next time. If so, I'll walk the other way around the block.
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