Wordless Wednesday

When You Can't Find Your Car In The Snow...

A blizzard hit Northern Ireland on Friday.  Shoot me. Maybe that seems a bit dramatic?  Maybe they told me it never snows here.  Maybe you didn’t slip and skid across five feet of snow, slush, and mud on your bum.  Maybe I just really hate snow.

Waking up to snow on the ground seemed bad enough, but when the stroller practically blew over on  my way out my door and my eyeballs hurt from particles of ice slamming into them during the short intervals I had to walk outside, life really seemed dire.

Then we lost electricity.  This doesn’t just mean “the lack of television and all-day movie marathons.”  For us it means no heat, no hot water, no telephone, and no way to cook food, and no fireplace to generate any sort of heat.  In this rare instance, it also meant, no cell phone service. 

These discoveries, coupled with some unfortunate interactions with a handful of people, immediately sent me into a state of extreme grumpiness.  I was argumentative. I shouted at my children over nothing. I stomped around with the scowl I inherited from my beloved grandmother.  It was lovely.

Then I went home to feed my youngest son.  I’ve never read about this anywhere, but in my case there is some sort of surge of hormones that happen when I sit down to breastfeed my son.  The first 30 seconds of a feeding makes my heart race, and a flood of unacknowledged anxiety surfaces.  I can’t name it, or describe it, and it only happens in the daytime feedings.  It also usually results in me examining what I’m truly anxious about.  In this case I realized I was anxious about our situation.

No electricity or heat is fine for my husband and I.  I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and we were guaranteed at least a few power-outages a winter – some of which could last days. As an adult we lost power, but I was always guaranteed to have power restored within just a few hours, but also had family close by to rely on if things got dire. Dustin and I can cuddle under some duvets and read by candlelight, while sipping glasses of red wine to keep warm.  It actually sounds luxurious.  When you have three small bodies to take care of, a lot changes.  I realized I had no idea how I was going to keep Oliver warm if the power stayed off for more than 24 hours.  My mind raced through the bare fridge inhabiting our home, and searched for non-existent ways to feed out kids since the weather was so bad we couldn’t even take them out of the house to walk across the property.  Then add on this feeling imposed on me to “take care” of the "twenty-somethings" on-site.  I didn’t think I could take it. 

But it went deeper.  What about the homeless mothers who are out in this right now, searching desperately for shelter for their tiny baby?  Life seemed dire, but the sadness I felt at that moment for those women sent me into a state of mourning.  There are moments I feel so angry.  So self-pittying.  That life is so unfair.

Then I remember this beautiful life I have. This fortune I don’t deserve.

I’m happy to report that the electricity was restored, and then lost again, then restored, and then lost again…and as I write this I’m waiting for it to turn off at any moment as the snow continues to whiz past our window in a horizontal fashion.  There is still no internet access, and I can’t find our car, although I’m pretty sure it’s out there somewhere.  But our house is warm, our friends are near, and there is light by which to read. Life is lovely after all.

Ollie at 7 months

This guy...

 ...is growing way too fast.
The other day I caught him trying to crawl.
He didn't get the memo...

 

...that I need him to be teensy and tiny and immobile - at least until I get my act together.

Sooooooo...I'm thinking in about 15 years? 

On an unrelated note: I could kiss those cheeks all day long.

I would sleep like I haven't slept in a year.

Hello.
It's been awhile.
Blame it on being busy, unmotivated, the weather being too nice (luckily THAT'S over). The thing about taking an unplanned hiatus is that you find it so overwhelming to get back into what was so easy at one time. This includes writing, as so many other things - art, photography, cooking, letter correspondence, etc.

So instead I'm going to do myself a favor and begin with a simple prompt, because we all need  little boost to do hard things sometimes.

If you could do anything, what would you do today?

Breakfast with my college friends. I would tell them how much I miss them and how much I've changed - the things I can't tell them over email. We would laugh and laugh and laugh at nothing, but at everything. I would touch Audra's pregnant belly.  We would listen and oogle over baby pictures, new houses, and new adventures.  I would get waffles, because I think I forget what those taste like.

I'd buy new jeans - ones that don't have holes where my thighs rub together constantly.  I would bring my friends Steph and Dawn with me because they are marathon shoppers and "yes" people.  I would also consider new shoes that don't have holes in the soles, and look great with my new jeans. We would get coffees and Auntie Annes, even though Steph is eating paleo...since I can do anything, I would make Auntie Annes have paleo pretzels.

Since it's my day, it would be summer in Northern Michigan and we'd go to the beach armed with sunscreen and shovels. My skin would feel hot under the sun, but the water would feel cool on my toes. The sand would squeak under my feet.  Lunch would come in the form of crusty bread, cheeses and turkey, with plenty of grapes of Liam to have his share while the rest of us still get one or two. Sand doesn't get in the food on today.

I would meet my friends from our last recent home for dinner at one of the new restaurants I haven't tried. It would be dark and candlelit, and would make us feel fancy and adult-like. We would laugh about our husbands, and I would probably cry at some point, because that's what I do when we get together and talk about our babies and them growing up.  I would probably just start crying the minute I saw them because I do that too.

There would be a movie with my husband, in a real movie theater, with the kind of movie-theater popcorn they have in the States, extra butter, and forty different flavored salts to pour over the top.

Afterwards drinks in a Toledo bar with the friends I already rarely get to see from home.  Travis would be there from North Carolina. Michelle would be up from Columbus.  Tiff and Dawn would be able to leave the babies at home.  We'd laugh at all of the stories we have to catch up on since I've been gone for so long.  Michelle will tell me about her wedding.  I'll cry again, because that's what I do, and it's been so long.  There are new babies, new husbands, new everything.

On the drive back to my mom and dad's house I would hold Dustin's hand.  We would crawl into bed with our sleeping babies surrounding us, and I would sleep like I haven't slept in a year.

This Month on Instagram...

Headline: White American Girl Teaches White Irish Kids About The Korean New Year.

From our visit in 2009

 Two weeks ago during Seollal (the Korean New Year) I had the opportunity to go in and teach Miles' classmates about Seollal.

So here's how it went down: I actually just called the teacher to ask if I could bring in a special Korean snack for the day.  The teacher was out, so I had to ask the principal.  She was so on-board that she thought it would be great if I could come up with something for all of the teachers/students to do, which would be easy because there are only about 86 kids at his school total, none of which had probably ever been to South Korea.  I got off the phone that Friday excited for this opportunity to give Miles something he could be proud of.
Then 2 things happened.
1.  I couldn't figure out what she meant by "come up with something for all of the teachers/students to do."
2. I had to read up on Seollal, since everything I do, and every holiday I celebrate, generally revolves around food. I wasn't going to fix BeBimBop for 90+.

Insue slight panic.  Here it was the weekend, Seollal ends on Monday, and I had no idea what I was supposed to prepare.  Also, I must remind you that I'm pretty sure 80% of the students and staff at his full-integration Gaelic-speaking school think Miles is Chinese.  Needless to say, he's the only Asian-American Gaelic speaker in our part of the country - that I know of.

On a self-important observational side note: teachers/administrators don't use email here like I'm used to.  Like, at all. (Side note of the side note: I almost wrote "don't use email like they should", but that would imply that I know best, and I'm trying really hard to give up "knowing best" for lent.)

So I decided to do like the locals and chill out.  I waited it out until Monday and then just phoned them. It seemed my chilling out paid off because the principal was gone for the week (a small detail that went unmentioned).  The person answering the phone didn't mind if I came until Tuesday (she went around and asked all of the teachers while I waited on the phone - I guess this would be one advantage of small schools).  AND they thought it would be great fun if I just came up with a presentation for the entire school.

This oddly left me relieved.  As a former teacher turned current parent, I wasn't too keen on handing out a list of things for the teachers to do with their students while I went home and drank cups of coffee and watched soaps. (NOT implying this is what other moms do - just what I would do...)  And  I thought it would be pretty fun for Miles if his mom and Nana came to his school to talk about how cool his culture is.

So I spent Monday researching Seollal a bit more, which was good for me.  I created a kick-ass slide show (you know, as far as slide-shows go) which included pictures of Miles in his Hanbok. I traced 86 paper snakes (for the year of the snake), and put on my big girl pants.

It couldn't have gone better.  I zoned out during the introduction, which of course was in all Gaelic, although I think they were talking about it also being "Pancake Tuesday" - another great holiday in my opinion.  The kids were great listeners and asked lots of questions, had lots of experiences to share, and raised their hands A LOT. This is where my teacher-instincts came in handy because I had no problem sweetly ignoring them when it got to be obnoxious (because it always does).

Cute Hanbok Pictures.

At one point the entire school was performing Sebae, or at least what I could understand and interpret of the complicated bowing ritual. They loved the pictures of Miles in his Hanbok.  And they all made snakes.  It even made it into the local paper.  This is big news here.

Other children making snakes for the Year of the Snake

I feel lucky that Miles' teachers and administrators were so excited to share his culture with his classmates (or get out of 30 minutes of lesson planning).  They took a break from their daily schedule, which is never really easy for those age levels, and were so grateful for everything (at least to my face).  And I feel so lucky that right now I have a job where I can do these sorts of things for my kids.  And if the amount of confetti on the floor of his classroom is any indication, I think the snake-making was fun for all (under the age of 10).

The Obligatory First-Bites-of-Real-Food Pictures...

...don't act like you weren't waiting at the edge of your seat for these bad boys.

 Don't misread his somberness as anti-excitement. We take eating VERY SERIOUSLY in this house.