During one of our Saturday walks...

"Yooook, mama, an ayyyy-pane!!!"

William's Easter Egg Nests

Saturday parade - Abraham is greeted, honored and admired

Every Saturday morning, Abraham and I walk the boys to their Taekwondo practice. It’s a very slow walk, because, well, Abraham’s legs are short AND he loves to look at EVERYTHING on the way, so taking him with me rather that running the boys over, which would take ten minutes tops, means I commit to a one hour stroll. If you know me, you know I usually walk faster than most people do, and that I am not the strolling type. But; Abraham enjoys it so much, and he’s so cute engaging in everything, that I think of this hour as a treat for him.

Our walk starts out a little brisker, because we want to get the boys to their activities, but after we’ve waved good-bye to them, the adventures begin. There’s always something interesting to see. These past couple of weeks – springtime - there have always been at least one couple of campus cats along the road engaged in making new kittens. Very interesting. And totally OK, because since Abraham is so little, I don’t have to explain anything. “Yoook, Mama! Kitty payyying, mama!” "Yes, they’re playing, isn’t that cute?!" This morning we saw a cat with a bird in his mouth, parading in front of a group of hungry looking cats. I noticed the bird was still wiggling a bit. “Yoook, mama!! Kitty eat BIRDY, mama!!” Yup. That's it. "The kitty is hungry." Then Abraham picks up a deep humming sound, and points to the sky, “Where ayy-pane, mama?!” So we look for the airplane, which I’ve noticed is a Lufthansa flight coming in right after 10 am every Saturday morning. After that we smell the flowers, pick a handful of rosemary and pocket as many pine cones as we can. Always discussing everything in detail. Sometimes we enter the bookstore whose window Abraham will stare through forever, commenting on every single book he sees, and sometimes we stop for a treat at Dunkin Donuts. Always we run into students who want to take pictures with their phones of Abraham. (I wonder about this: Why would they want to carry around a picture of some strange child? But it’s so common and an almost instant reflex many students have when they see Abraham, “Ooohh, he’s SO CUTE!! Can I please take a picture?” Female and male students alike.) Some like to touch his hair, and at least one of the food stall men will hand some treat to him (Today he received a handful of doughnut holes). “What’s your name?” they ask, and Abraham replies, “Ay-mee-HAM!” They look at me and I clarify, “Abraham,” at which they always reply, “What a magnificent name!!” and add a reference to the Bible or the Qu’ran, depending on their religion. Then they take another picture. Sometimes when we near our home and only our Concierge is left to exchange greetings with, “Abraham, how are you today, cute boy?” I feel like we’ve just finished a parade. The display of Abraham, blond and cute, on his Saturday walk.

Happy Birthday to me!

Do you remember all your birthdays? I don’t think I could, even if I tried hard. They are just getting to be too many. I do remember particular birthdays though, my fifth being the first one I have a clear memory of, then my 9^th when I got my first badminton racket, my 13^th, or my 18^th when I got my driver’s license. I also remember my 20^th birthday very well, because that was the day my dad had surgery to remove a big, bad brain tumor, and then I remember my 21^st birthday, which makes me sad, because that’s when he was buried. I turned 22 in the US, somewhere between the slopes in Aspen. My 24^th birthday was the first I spent with Courtney. I spent my 28^th birthday on the beaches of Normandy, pregnant with August, and on my 30^th birthday - Easter - I was nine months pregnant with William. It was around my 34^th birthday that we found out we were moving to Egypt, and Abraham might have been conceived on my 35^th birthday.

Last weekend, I spent - again! - my 35^th birthday, a beautiful day, walking with my family along the Mediterranean Sea here in Beirut. I didn’t really turn 35 again of course, but I like to pretend I stopped counting. Getting old doesn’t scare me, but I feel the years are slipping through my fingers, and as not to stress, I prefer not to think about it too much. My favorite quote by one of my favorite authors sums it up eloquently: “[35] is a perfectly good age. I know plenty of women in the high London society who have remained [35] for years.” (Oscar Wilde, of course.)

Our non-exciting or different-exciting life in Beirut

Since we moved to Lebanon, we have had to learn how to live on a very small budget. We didn’t move here for the money and knew that we would have to make certain adjustments, however we had not foreseen that it would be this big of a difference. Living here is really expensive! While we had some room before during our life in Cairo, after only the most necessary bills (rent, insurance, electricity, and gas) and food have been paid for every month here, we have nothing left. There are no extras: no internet, no phone, no car, no trips, and if anything comes up, like Christmas, birthdays, holidays, or if the boys grow and need new clothes or shoes (which you can imagine happens all the time), we have to use our savings (which were not very large to begin with and will be gone soon). It is disquieting.

 Having to always be careful about money can be energy draining, because it influences the way you are able to live your everyday life. I’ve read hundreds of articles on how it shouldn’t, and how there are so many things you can do with little to no money – all it takes is a little finesse – and we have adjusted to our situation pretty well. We use the university facilities a lot, and do fun things that don’t really cost anything, like reading, sports, playing, walking, etc. However sometimes I am painfully reminded of our meager situation. Like during Easter, which seems to be the time to get out of town. To be able to hop in a car (I don’t think I know anyone here who doesn’t have a car) and explore the country for a few days; see the sites, go hiking or skiing, visit Tripoli or Tyre or even Syria – how amazing that would be! But we can’t. It is also around this time of the year that I start making a list of next year’s schoolbooks and supplies – even wishing I could send out a quick order to add to this year’s material – but the way things stand for the moment, I can’t order anything. I’m printing out worksheets that I find on (our almost non-existent) internet, or make them myself, but it would be so nice to be able to get the actual math tests that go with the curriculum we’ve been using, or get the next grammar book in the series for August before he forgets everything.

Now this is turning into a rant, which I didn’t intend. What I wanted to say was something positive. No, we haven’t been able to travel like we’re used to - we are pretty much confined to walking distance of our apartment. The silver lining is that since we’re fairly immobile, I and everyone else in the family have been able to do things we didn’t have time for in Cairo, like very time-consuming art projects, a lot of reading, sewing, creative writing, and in spending so much time together, we’ve been able to develop our intellectual and emotional relationships more than ever before. Despite our lack of funds we’ve managed to keep ourselves busy – just not the same kind of busy as we are used to. As a consequence, I haven’t been very confident in my blogging and my account of our life here in Beirut: I just don’t know how to recount our current life – it’s not exciting travels and encounters any more, but something else.

Taekwondo belt tests

In Egypt, the boys started Taekwondo, learning from Captain Moyasser, a fantastic coach and inspiring sportsman. After three and two years respectively, practice twice every week, they managed to reach blue and green belts.
When we moved to Lebanon, we were happy to discover that there's a Taekwondo class for youth every Saturday at AUB, and although the practice is not as rigorous, strict or concentrated as it was in Egypt, the boys enjoy going. This past week their hard work so far resulted in belt tests, and they were rewarded the next degree: half red belt for August, and half blue for William.

(For those of you who don't know the system: you start out with a white belt, and then you move on to half yellow, yellow, half green, green, half blue, blue, half red, red, and then black belt, which you can have several degrees of - I think up to eight, although I'm not sure.)

For their tests, they had to do a certain number or push- and situps, then kicks, punches, blocks, one pumsae (or Taegeuk, which is a series of moves, usually around 30, done in sequence), and break two boards by a certain kick or punch. They both did brilliantly, and were so proud when they received their belts!

Life with a two-year old...

We are currently at the stage where a lot of Abewahaaaam-doooo-iiit!!!’s are unmatched by the actual ability. This entails a lot of melt-downs, fits, and frustrations – for everyone. This is not my favorite part of parenting, and I’m sure not anyone’s favorite part of childhood, but it’s something that has to be gone through. My – the entire family’s - task is to make it as painless as possible.

A few examples:

Today Abraham accidentally pushed down his straw all the way into his juice box = instant melt-down and inability to eat his dinner.

This evening Abraham wanted to put his diaper on by himself. He totally cannot do it. Major screaming, fit and melt-down ensued.

Yesterday morning Abraham threw a fit because he couldn't button his own shirt buttons. Me trying to tell him no two-year old is really able to do this didn't help his frustration at all.

God give us strength to get through this.

Houseguests add diversity of thought

We have houseguests this week; friends - a couple - visiting us from Egypt. I love having them around for many reasons, but one of the greatest benefits is the presence of different perspectives, opinions, and even methods of conveying viewpoints in any discussion. Not only are there two more individuals added with their own points of view, but we are a very diverse group. We were all born in different countries and even environments, and we’ve lived in different places, our ages differ, we have very different interests, and although we all studies within the humanities, we all wrote our thesis on very different subjects. All this makes for a lot of talking, and many interesting ideas and arguments; our house is a - more than usual, I should say - stimulating environment for the moment.

Seeing the boys interact with our friends makes me happy, because I know it broadens their minds and interests, and my smart, educated friends inspire them in new ways.

History of China and Japan, and The last Samurai

Today, while I was going through a final review with the boys of the history of China and Japan, where they tell me the story and as many details as they can remember, using our map and self-created illustrated time-line, Courtney came over to the kitchen table, which is where most of our school-work is done, to check his mail, and ended up listening in. Towards the end of the story – our last class on the history of China and Japan – he commented, “Now the boys know more about Chinese and Japanese history than I ever did throughout my entire life.” Coming from a professor of humanities, I think that’s a compliment: to the boys for learning so well, and to me for creating such a great history curriculum. Pride on a Friday during Lent. Forgive me!

As a reward for their hard work, I gave in and let the boys watch the way too violent movie “The Last Samurai” with Tom Cruise, provided to them by their well-meaning uncle before he had children of his own (proving that although I have my good moments, in the end, I’m sometimes just a tired homeschooling mom who might give in to things she shouldn’t for a moment’s peace).

Weekend dinner party

We spent part of this past weekend plotting, preparing and cooking a dinner for friends who came over on Sunday. One of them is a French, professional chef, and we wanted to make something special, or at least tasty. Our budget doesn’t allow us to splurge often, but we do enjoy cooking together, so it was a nice treat.

I think what we enjoy the most about cooking is the ideas and the final touches. The most time consuming part – at least in this part of the world – is the “hunting and gathering” as we used to call it in Cairo: the part where we walk from store to store trying to find and buy all the ingredients we’ll need. It can be very frustrating, and often costly. This time it wasn’t too bad though.

I find the second most time consuming and tedious part about cooking something nice – and this is because good cooking requires fresh ingredients – is the cleaning, washing and cutting. It is not my favorite part, but I find it quite satisfying to know that everything we consume is fresh and thoroughly prepared.

Our menu:

#Three types of home-made pasta (thanks to a good friend, we trail around the world with a most useful pasta machine)

• Sea Bass filled Ravioli with seafood sauce (How did we make it? We started with three large, uncleaned, freshly caught Sea Bass, and went from there...)
• Chestnut filled Ravioli with Mascarpone and Sage sauce (This one started with a kilo of fresh - unroasted, uncooked still-in-their shells chestnuts)
• Artichoke Ravioli with thyme butter (This one started with six small, fresh artichokes)

#Falsomagro, which is an Italian meat dish that is anything but “magro”, served with an Italian soup, or rather a leek mold – cooked leek blended with ricotta, nutmeg, eggs, Pecorino, and a few other ingredients – with a pureed vegetable sauce on top, and Aubergine (eggplant) Pecorino

#Bomb au Chocolat – which is a chocolate mousse and meringue cake, served with Chamomile tea.

I think everything turned out well and that it was very much appreciated. We all had a good time. We don't have that many friends here in Beirut, and no extra money, so we don't get to entertain here in Lebanon the way we used to in the past - it was fun!

All done cast!

Today, Abraham and I:

- walked over to the AUB Medical Center’s orthopedic pediatric surgeon’s office in the rain – 5 minutes.

 -waited in the AUB Medical Center’s orthopedic pediatric surgeon’s waiting room – 42 minutes. I didn’t bring any toys because I figured a waiting room associated with anything pediatric would have toys or some kind of entertainment for children. There was nothing. Nada. So we looked at the passport pictures I had in my wallet, walked around the waiting room exploring the information leaflets they had there about colonoscopies (I kid you not), looked out the window and tried to spy red cars (0 - it seems you are required to drive a black car to enter the hospital premises), talked about what the doctor was going to do, and – I have to admit only Abraham was this energetic – climbed all over the waiting room furniture.

 -saw the AUB Medical Center’s orthopedic pediatric surgeon, who removed Abraham’s cast, looked at his x-rays and briefly touched his arm – 3 minutes.

That’s it. As Abraham put it,“Boo-boo all gone.” All the way home, Abraham sang “Bath-time! Bath-time! Bath-time!” and as soon as we got home he jumped in the tub. After two full weeks of can’t-get-your-cast-wet, he finally got to do one of his absolute favorite things: take a long, nice bath.

Buildings in Beirut

Next to our house here in Beirut, snuggled in between buildings is a small empty lot with some trees, bushes, and a lot of mud. The boys like to play there for a little while in the mornings, when there’s not enough time to go over to the campus playground but the urge for some fresh air gets too strong. Sometimes cars park on the side of the lot during the week, although I would think twice about it because not only will your car get very dirty but you’d also risk getting stuck in the mud. But parking is very hard to come by in this area, so I can see the attraction. The lot belongs to an abandoned house that was bombed during the war. It’s intact, but full of bullet holes, the windows are busted, it was obviously on fire at some point, and parts of the façade is coming down. It must have been left like this for a while, because weeds are growing on the run down balconies and into the rooms of the house. Or at least we thought it was an abandoned building until I saw a moving truck this past weekend move the last tenants out from the top fifth floor. Personally, I don’t understand how someone was living there. The building was standing up, yes, but barely. Maybe it wasn’t as bad up top as it looks on the ground and first floor, but I surely would be a little more than nervous stepping in and out of a building every day that looks like that.

Apparently, the building has been sold to a new owner and that’s why the people that have been living there had to move out. “It will be worth 12 million dollars when it’s rebuilt.” our concierge told me. With our rent in mind, I don’t doubt that for a minute. There are quite a few buildings like this in our neighborhood – bombed and abandoned, waiting to be or in the process of being rebuilt – and more than enough people wanting to live in this area to fill them up once they’re finished. If the Lebanese can keep war away, there’s a lot of money to be made here.

Arm in a cast - another week to go...

Abraham has worn his cast for a week now. The first couple of days he didn’t move his hand at all, and slept very badly, obviously in pain. Every time I accidentally touched his right hand or shoulder he whimpered in pain. Then he slowly got a little better, and now – after a week - he’s using his arm as much as he can with the impeding cast in place. He pulls off the sling that keeps his arm up, and he has tried to pull of the cast several times too. Then he noticed that it was hard and heavy, a little like wearing a weapon, and has started taking advantage of that when playing with his brothers. I can’t wait for him to get it taken off, and I can’t believe we have another full week to go.

How it came that I painted a picture of Elmo on a canvas in the wee hours of Friday morning before my tea

The morning after Abraham’s accident, the morning after the night I had barely slept at all, I woke up a little worried that it was going to be a difficult day. I figured Abraham in his pain and agony would want me to hold him, cuddle him, comfort nurse him, and that I would have to suspend my next 24 hours or so to just keep him from whining and crying. I had to carry him out of the bedroom and he was whimpering. I wondered how I would get through even just the morning. When we entered the dining room we were met by last night’s set up for Art Friday; I had arranged all the colors, brushes, palettes, sheets and canvases the night before – before the accident – and had not had a chance to clean it up. What a mess! When Abraham saw it his face broke out into a huge smile – it was like the sun came out after a big storm – and he motioned towards his high chair, apparently having forgotten all about his broken arm, happily exclaiming the words “Aimeeh. PAINTING! Mama?! Aimeeh PAINTING! Yeah!”

He stayed in that chair for almost two hours, paintbrush in hand. He looked a little awkward at first, trying to figure out how to do everything with one arm disabled, but he soon got it. Somewhere in between a picture of a dog and daddy I fed him some yogurt, and managed to drink my tea. Lots and lots of it.

I should have figured. There are two things in particular that Abraham loves to do. Take a bath and paint, and the first one is out for the next two weeks. But I was too tired to think ahead like this, and would never have thought to set up the painting project that morning. What a stroke of luck!

Our ER experience and a broken arm

Last night I was cleaning up the kitchen, while Courtney was reading on the couch and watching the boys rough-house. Abraham was climbing up on one of the boys’ back and grabbing his neck, when suddenly the older boy got up and bent forward, causing Abraham to thrust forward while his legs flew up in the air. Preventing a dive head first into the hard wood coffee table, the older boy grabbed Abraham’s arms and pulled him back onto his back. Abraham screamed. I came out of the kitchen and picked him up, trying to comfort him. He usually only cries for a minute, and he would definitely stop when offered a bit of comfort nursing, but he kept crying, and he wasn’t moving his arm. I waited a bit to see if he calmed down, but I knew there was something wrong. Courtney and I suspected that his shoulder perhaps was dislocated, so I grabbed my ID card and (what I thought was) my credit card, put my rain boots on, wrapped Abraham up in a fuzzy blanket, and literally ran over to the ER, a good solid 200 meters, through the drizzling rain and cold. My heart was pounding and I had a big lump in my throat. Abraham cried and the suddenly he looked up and said cheerfully, “Is naining, mama!”

I had no idea what to expect when I walked through the sliding doors, but as a mother with a mission and one mission only, I addressed the first person I saw wearing an AUB badge, “I need a doctor.” I must have looked very serious, because almost immediately we were brought into a room where a nurse filled out a paper, took Abraham’s blood pressure, and then brought us to see a doctor. In fact, we saw lots of doctors. I’m going to guess because it’s a teaching hospital, all the residents wanted to have a look at Abraham. They were all very sweet, in their early 30’s, and spoke nearly perfect English with an American accent. Only one doctor examined him though, and every time he touched Abraham’s arm, he screamed a painful cry, “No way!! No way, no doctor fix it!! No way! Mama, fix it!!” It was quickly concluded that we would need x-rays, and paper work ensued. Our insurance file was not in order. Could I pay and then claim the money back? Of course. When I reached into my pocket to give the secretary my credit card however, I noticed that in the hurry I had grabbed my cash card (they look exactly the same, only the Mastercard has a small Mastercard symbol on it). After quite a bit of going back and forth, where I tried to convince them to go ahead and take care of Abraham first assuring them that I would send my husband to pay afterwards, Abraham and I were sent home to get means of payment. “No payment, no treatment.”

So I picked up Abraham, who cried as soon as I moved, in the blanket and ran the 200 meters back to our house in the rain, grabbed my Mastercard and gave Courtney a quick update, and then ran back again. I didn’t have to wait at all, and the process took only a few minutes. After having settled our payment we were brought into the x-ray room, where a very skilled technician took tons and tons of pictures of Abraham’s arm, shoulder and hand, all the while he was screaming himself hoarse on the stretcher. As horrible as the whole thing was, at this moment it was a good thing that Abraham couldn’t move his arm, because it made this part of the whole experience go quickly and effectively. After the pictures we got to sit back down in the ER area – Abraham calmed down as soon as he was back in my arms, and the doctors analyzed the x-rays and called the orthodontist down for a consultation. In the meantime Abraham was talking to me about all that he saw; “The doctor go THAT way, mama!” There was a baby crying in a separate booth next to us, “Baby cwying, mama. Baby want watch Beggie tales, mama? Make baby happy, mama?” Good thinking. Veggie Tales might have worked. He was trying really hard to be good, while bursting out into little sobs now and then, obviously from pain. Still very interested in everything and everyone around him. After a few minutes, the orthodontist examined Abraham’s arm once more to rule out nursemaid elbow (which is very common in young children apparently), but it was very clear that the problem was a hairline fracture on the elbow. The orthodontist proceeded to put a fiberglass cast on Abraham’s arm – he was being really good through the whole thing – stabilize it with a sling around his neck, and let me give him pain relief. The doctors told me to come back with Abraham in about two weeks, that the fracture should be healed within two-three weeks, and then sent me off home. On my way out I had to pay for the cast in the cashier’s office, and while the clerk was processing my file, Abraham fell asleep in my arms, exhausted, shirtless, wrapped in William’s blue, fuzzy blanket. It was almost one in the morning when I stepped into the wet and dark street for the short walk home.

Courtney was waiting for us, having spent the evening helping the boys, who were in tears, get to sleep, reassuring them that Abraham was going to be fine and that he knew they had not meant to hurt him, yet trying to get the message through that they will have to be more careful than they had been that night. What a difficult thing to manage.

I didn’t sleep much that night, waking up every so often to check on him – I slept the kind of sleep you sleep when you have a newborn, or when you’re watching over your child; alternating and light. Considering everything, it was a good night, and when everyone woke up we all had a long talk about everything that had happened in bed, all cuddled up. “Aimeeh bwoke aaahm, mama!” Abraham said with a cheerful voice. So pitiful, so brave.

Midnight ER admission, $40

Infinite amount of x-rays, $40

Cast, $40

My baby getting good and speedy health care, which helps him heal without any permanent injury, priceless.