Happy Thanksgiving from Lebanon!

Because American Thanksgiving is not a holiday here, we celebrated this past weekend. We had dinner with friends at our house – a few families coming together – and cooked all the food ourselves (not a given here in Lebanon, I’ve come to learn). Turkey, a Butterball purchased at Spinney's, cooked to perfection, along with all the dressings, and pumpkin pie for dessert. It was great. The food was awesome, the conversation interesting and fun, and I think everyone had a good time. Almost as a holiday-caricature, half-unconscious,  after all the plates had been emptied a couple of times, we all leaned back, patted our full tummies, and moaned, unable to fit another bite, exclaiming, “Happy Holidays!”

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

11-11 somewhere down memory lane

Deep down in my memory basket I have preserved a cold, windy, dark and cloudy November day in Antwerp just about a decade and a half ago.

Just as it was getting dark, Prof. Husband and I, only young undergraduate students then, stood on the beach with a bottle of 1986 Margeaux that a friend had given us. Rough, black clouds in the distance over the English Channel threatened to launch a storm at any moment. It was too cold to drink and our fingers were almost too stiff from the freezing water the wind kept spraying at us to put our rings on, but there we were, exchanging vowels. Through sickness and health. Until death do us part.

We didn’t linger, but went to a warm, cozy local restaurant with brown wood paneling, red, thick velvet curtains, an open fireplace, warm wine and good food to celebrate the beginning of the rest of our lives.

Making cream cheese

The day before yesterday Courtney made cream cheese.

For some inexplicable reason Courtney’s very much into making things out of living bacteria for the moment - to our Jane-Buddhist maid's great horror. Following the sourdough phase, this apparently seemed like a natural continuation. We both often make yogurt, but this is slightly different, I think, in that it is a little more complicated. He’s currently working on a couple of different cheeses that take time, but the cream cheese was finished in just a couple of days (it's both great and a little disturbing to know how fast bacteria can grow in this climate). It turned out really nice, albeit a bit more sour than store-bought cream cheese.

The biggest problem we had was: what were we going to do with it? 500+ grams of full fat cream cheese. We would either need a lot of bagels, or… that’s right, we made cheese cake! Yum!

Now we just have to wait a few weeks to see how -or even if- the brie cheese turns out.

Time to catch up

So, I work a lot. I homeschool our boys, I take care of a two-year old 24/7, I manage the majority of our household duties, organization and planning, I help my husband with his work, and I work - as in; I have an actual paid job. For fun - and to keep my mind from going bonkers - I sing in a choir and in a smaller group, and I run.

I am always busy, but I don’t get overwhelmed, and I can usually manage all these things all at once. 

Yes, really. 

However lately, I haven’t been able to keep up. I don’t know if it’s the extra choir group or maybe I’ve taken on too many editing/translation jobs. It could be that my husband has been extra busy, that Abraham is getting more demanding, or that the older boys need more attention with regards to school work, social arrangements or sports. Whatever the reason, I’ve been in that perpetual state where I’m constantly playing catch-up for the past couple of weeks.

This weekend, extra long courtesy of Abraham’s faith in God, gave me a good chance to catch up. I only had one small, easy translation to do, and along with only two sports events, one administrative task and one social event, this provided me with some extra time to get things done. I didn’t go into it with an exact plan, but since I had an idea of all that had to be done, I decided I would just let urgency decide. When I woke up on Saturday morning, around 6:30 am as usual, it became clear to me what I needed to start the weekend with. I got Abraham some fruit and cereal, set him up with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and went back to bed. I slept another two hours, then I had a light breakfast and spent the next hour on the treadmill at the gym. I felt so much better. It wasn’t on any list, not even my mental running list of things that need to be taken care of, but boy was it urgent. I needed some rest and a moment to myself.

I spent the rest of the weekend more relaxed than in a long time, going through my chores with fewer sighs, and paying more attention to my family. Out of all the parenting advice I see, setting time aside for yourself is one of the most common articles, however I always look at them and think “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What parent reads this and has a revelation?” I do set time aside for myself – my scheduled music sessions every week, and exercise several times a week – but this weekend was different. I took a moment for myself, when I needed it, without working around some schedule, or putting everyone else first. 

Yeah, I know; what possessed me, right? 

I don’t know, but it sure felt good. Let me conclude this with the cliché:

This happy mother is a better mother.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween in Beirut, 2011

Since we are finally getting to know more people here in Beirut, and since we’ve pretty much settled into our apartment, we decided to throw a Halloween party this year. Our invitations went out very late, and it’s a busy time for most, but a nice group of people still came. Courtney made some really nice dishes: lamb curry and chicken curry with rice and mint-yogurt sauce, gravlax, a thai salad, a Turkish carrot and garlic dip; and I made quail eggs, vegetable dip, and Halloween punch with gummy worms and ice blocks the shape of a hand (very popular with the little ones). Courtney also made a lemon meringue pie and a black bottom pie, and people brought cookies, cakes and more sweets than we could ever eat. We had the sliding doors open with tables and chairs on the balcony - it was a perfect temperature outside – and the kids stayed at the playground until it closed. In general, a good first party in our new home!

Later today, the kids get to go on their very first real Trick or Treat. Obviously we never went out in Belgium (trick or treat’ing has just started picking up there over the past few years) or in Cairo. At the yearly Halloween party that the CAC organized in Cairo, the boys would walk through “Trick or Treat Lane” where high school kids would hand out candy to the kids from class room doors, but that is as close to trick or treat’ing as my kids have ever got. Today, AUB has announced an official Trick or Treat time, and the boys will walk around the campus houses (knocking on decorated doors only) wearing their Halloween costumes and bringing Trick or Treat bags.

Art morning

Finger paint: one of this homeschooling mother's least favorite crafting tools. But this boy loves it so, that sometimes I make myself go through the effort of cleaning up the post-fingerpaint disaster that always follows.

What do you think the chances are of our Middle Eastern finger paint being harmful if ingested? 50-50? I could tell from the face he made though when he got some in his mouth, that it doesn't taste good at all. So at least I know he will not be eating it on purpose.

Boys practicing Taekwondo kicks in the living room

How do you take pictures like this without them being blurry? I am still trying to figure it out.

This past week I broke down and got the boys a full set of Taekwondo equipment (pricey! but necessary) and they've been practicing punches and kicks ever since - mainly in the living room.

"What happens next?" you might ask. William is like a brick; doesn't move an inch!

Come October...

Since the move and since my mom got here, every moment of the day for the past few weeks have been filled with something: everything from intense school work and translation work, to treadmilling and enjoying a cooking show on television with my mom at the end of the day.

I think of life being pretty much the same regardless of where you live. No matter where your home is; exotic Singapore, healthy Edmunton, or the chaotic Middle East, your kids will still need clothed, fed, schooled, they’ll still get sick when you least need it, and you’ll still need to work to make a living (OK, at least most people), go grocery shopping, do the dishes, and laundry. I know this, because I myself have fallen asleep, exhausted after a hard week, on the couch on a Friday night in front of a movie in Sweden, Belgium, the US, Egypt and Lebanon. If we were to move to Asia or Australia, I’m pretty sure I would do the same thing there. I also know this, because when I talk to my friends around the world, through Facebook or by other means, they are all doing these things too. These are things that come with that which we call ‘life,’ regardless of where you live.

Of course there are slight variations in our everyday life: I can’t shop at ICA or Walmart so I get my food from a Saudi Arabian grocery store where the products are different, which has an impact on our everyday meals. I don’t think we would eat as much Middle Eastern food if we lived in Edmunton. And when I buy ham I chat with Hissam who asks me every time if I know of some Swedish girl who would like to marry him so that he could leave Lebanon. I’m not sure a grocer in Boston would ask me this. (Although he might ask me if I know any Swedish girls, come to think of it.)

Life is also slightly different because of the way we are compelled to do things, i.e. how you get your groceries and where you do your sports activities, but this, in my experience, doesn’t differ from country to country, but depends on where you live in relation to what you need. So even though we only moved a few blocks last month, our life has changed dramatically since then, and we have had to spend some time getting into new routines and find a new rhythm of life. This kind of thing takes time, but I feel like we are getting there. Let this blog post vouch for that.

October's little pleasures

Beach days...

My 10-year old son's birthday cake...

My new large kitchen with a view of the playground...

While I was not blogging...

20 days is a long time – even for me - to not post anything, not even a photo. I’m sorry. Everything else took over for a while here.

The week before our move from our apartment in Hamra to AUB campus, I got a big job that I simply could not turn down. I worked continuously for several days, just keeping up with the bare necessities. When the work was finished, the move took over our lives entirely. Packing is hard work, and organizing everything surrounding a move (even if it’s just within the same city) will consume your life entirely for as long as it takes. When the movers finally carried the last of our things into our new apartment, after nine hours of transferring furniture, boxes, and everything else from our old apartment to our new, a few tears of exhaustion and relief rolled down my cheeks. I knew then that my work was only half-way done, as unpacking and organizing can be quite a challenge as well, but I felt the hard part was done.

We’ve lived in our new apartment for a week now, and most of our things have been sorted through and put away. (It’s easier to do all this when the kids are safe and happy, playing at the playground outside our window.) We’ve returned the keys to our old apartment to the owner, and purchased a few things for our new place. The professor has started the new semester classes, the boys have resumed their schoolwork and we are all slowly getting used to the luxuries our new home provide. We all feel it is as if we have moved to Paradise. We have a home phone! And proper internet, cable television, and did I mention, we live right next to the playground? We have a water dispenser here, and Nestle delivers water once a week for almost nothing. We don’t have to turn on the electricity for the water heater two hours in advance every time we want to take a shower or wash the dishes. Or rather, we don’t have to take cold showers, because honestly, remembering this kind of thing takes a lot of energy and planning, and with a toddler who can go from sparkling clean to a disaster in less than five seconds, it’s not always possible at all to plan ahead like that. Most of all, we’re not paying an arm and a leg in rent. In fact, I think we’re paying about a third of what we did at our old place, which means we have money left over for other, more pleasant things. We are honestly a bit shocked about how thoroughly screwed over we were last year. We all thought last year was hard; this family’s dark ages, and although we are all currently exhausted – mentally (both the professor and I forgot important meetings and commitments this week, and I almost forgot about my mother’s arrival yesterday) and physically (sore feet!) – from these past tumultuous moving weeks, we realize the potential the upcoming academic year holds.

Moving week...

 I am a big disliker of messes and clutter: I love cabinets, shelves with neatly stacked boxes and containers, tidy storage units and clean, elegant table- and sidetable-tops with room for a candle or some flowers, and my teacup and book. In my home, I am content when there’s a special place for everything: Shoes in the shoe cabinet, books on shelves, pencils, erasers, rulers in a small box in a drawer, toys in baskets, photos in the Egyptian chest, papers in sorters, and electronics in the electronics cabinet. I am not a neat-freak, but I like… order. It makes me feel comfortable and happy.

Our apartment is currently a mess: along with half-unpacked suitcases and everything that came out of them, there are open, half-filled boxes everywhere. Every surface is cluttered with books, school material, computer cables, toys; but there’s no point in putting anything away because it all needs to get packed into a box over the next week anyways.

Having to look for a small unoccupied spot on the coffee table to put my tea cup down kills me, and seeing all our belongings laying around the house makes me feel at unease and a little nervous. I keep having to remind myself that soon, soon I will get to organize everything in our new apartment. Soon.

Flying Czech Airlines via Prague with children - never been worse

Is it because I’m getting older? Or is it because over the years, I’ve been accumulating young travel companions? Whatever the answer, flying seems harder and harder every time I do it.

This summer we didn’t even fly return to the US, but a meager 1,1 + 3,5 hours, with a one hour stop-over in Prague - from Lebanon to Denmark and back.

Checking in at Copenhagen airport is always comparatively easy, with short lines, helpful attendants, effective luggage- and security handling, and a wonderful children’s area. Every time I go through it, I wish I would run into the CEO so that I could give him or her an appreciative hug, and say “Thank you for thinking about me – nothing but a poor parent - and making my life a little easier!”

Once we leave Scandinavia, however, we are on our own. While the flying itself will be only slightly unpleasant (usually children will be occupied by food, sleep, or entertainment on the plane, and there isn’t really much that can go wrong), it is the queuing-part of a trip that will really kill any parent of young children. My youngest son, Abraham, is a very energetic two-year old, and like anyone his age, he does not like to wait in line. If he is put in a confined space to wait in line for a long time, he will eventually start to climb on the walls (literally), pull on the bands delineating the queuing area, try to run off, wander around, bother people, yell, or do whatever it is that people this age do when they get bored in small spaces.

Getting through check-in and security at Copenhagen airport and flying for a few hours is unpleasant, but not by any measures. In fact, all this would be all right – controllable - if Czech Airlines and Prague Airport weren’t so adamantly working against people traveling with young children.

Prague airport - which could be a quick, fun stop for us: off one plane, a play at the airport playground (which they have), and on board the next plane – is a long, queue-infested walk of terror. The Czech Republic – European Union – Schengen – WHOEVER it is – has turned a transfer at Prague airport into any parents’ nightmare.

As soon as you get off your first plane you have to stand in a no-line line to show your passport(s). People will be able to simply push their way past you and your children since there’s no system. If – when – you get past this, you have to walk through a transfer-transfer hall but to get to *your* transfer hall, you have to go through another passport control with often very long lines. To add insult to injury, on the way you will have to pass the airport playground and get through a tantrum - your child will SEE the fun playground and want to play but because of all the checks there’s no time to stop. The screaming will last you all the way to the next - seemingly random - security check. Really: why, oh why?! do they have to check our bags again when we are only transferring? We already went through this – in a much more efficient and pleasant way, may I add? – when we started our trip. In Prague, the lines will be extra long (because why keep more than one line open?), with no LEGO stops like in Copenhagen, and by the time you get to the actual security point, you will hold up the line trying to get your laptop out of your overfull bag with half a hand - while trying to contain a screaming and kicking toddler with all your might. (Try it. It’s hard.) Now, right after you don’t think things can get any worse (you’ve either dropped your laptop or your toddler at least twice) – the Czech security guards will be completely non-understanding and search you extra just for bringing kids – you’ll end up in a new, REALLY long line to go through boarding, with people consistently getting ahead of you in line. Because really; doesn’t everyone have boarding privileges over a mother with three young children? Czech Airlines rarely ever announce that people with children should board the plane first, and IF they do, they never enforce it. In fact, single people often push their way past people with children (because it’s easy – the parents are too busy keeping their kids in line under control to notice), and the attendants do nothing to discourage this. By the time you get on board, waiting in line behind every single passenger trying to fit their luggage in the over-head compartments, your children are beyond exhausted, at best.

Hint to all of you traveling without children who give me angry glances when my child is throwing a 30-decibel fit during take-off: IF YOU HAD LET ME ON THE PLANE FIRST, MY TIRED TODDLER WOULD HAVE GOT TO SETTLE IN AND FALLEN ASLEEP BEFORE TAKE-OFF, AND YOUR FLIGHT – EVERYONE’S FLIGHT - WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE PLEASANT!!

Did I mention one of my older boys threw up?

Sigh. It’s good to be home. No. More. Flying. For. A. While.

End of the summer...

I am sitting in my mother’s garden in southern Sweden. It’s windy, cloudy, but a comfortable temperature. I can hear the boys playing in the forest, enjoying their last week here. The days are getting shorter, the nights are colder, and it’s getting time for us to head back to our real life, in Lebanon. Work, school, sports activities, choir rehearsals, dinners, dishes, laundry, play dates, the beach, and everything else that is part of our life in Beirut awaits us. As does moving out of our beautiful apartment across from Idriss in Hamra, and into a great apartment on the AUB campus, into a community, right next to the playground.

I am well rested, almost a little weary of the quiet, slow and uneventful life here that I long for at times during the busy school year. I am ready for some action! Days filled with activities, work and fun, friends, and exciting new developments. I even look forward to moving. It is a lot of work but it will also make for a fun step in our life; socially, health-wise (we’ll have immediate access to the sports facilities), economically things will lighten up a bit, etc. Good things will come.

The heir to the throne is carrying an heir to the throne

You all know I'm secretly a bit of a royalist, so imagine my joy yesterday when I got to share the great news with the rest of the Swedish people: Crown Princess Victoria is pregnant!