Cleanup in isle 4

Have you ever desperately wanted your kids to behave.  And they desperately want to run around like little tornadoes of chaos and destruction? 

When we go places I really like to give the "Why yes, they are angels aren't they.  Oh why thank you, but no I haven't written a parenting book" vibe.  You know, because it's super fun when people think you never yell, or threaten or want to physically strangle your children. 

Especially when we are overseas.  I don't want people to view me or my offspring as the "ugly Americans". 

While we were in a mall in Jordan my kids were having an unusually hard time maintaining normal human behavior.  All social norms?  Gone.  I was trying with every fiber of my being to keep a smile on my face while wanting to grab them by their ears and march them out of there.  Of course I never actually grab their ears but it sounded like a good idea at the time.  Or the volken death grip.  That has a nice ring to it.
I was looking at some cute belts and I heard a crash.  I knew a fruit of my loins was responsible.  I can feel it.
I turn around and a child of mine who shall remain nameless has managed to knock over an entire rack full of clothes.  Onto the dirty floor.  My friend Lindy races into action helping me pick them up while laughing hysterically because she said my facial expression was "priceless".  I'm sure the real expression was "murder" but sometimes it's hard to distinguish. 

As soon as Hubby showed up after his meeting, I ever so gently and kindly reminded him that they are his kids and he can have them.  I'm going to a store where they haven't had their merchandise soiled or walked on.  And don't know me. 
Guess I can kiss that parenting book goodbye.  Oh well.  It was a pipe dream anyway.  Someday I'll have my revenge.  In the form of grandchildren.  And it will be sweet.

Swooping

I'm a fan of letting your kids fail.  Of letting them learn from their mistakes.  I'm okay with not taking in forgotten homework or lunch's and if you don't have your flags or mouth guard for football you don't play.  I'm all for letting my kids be cold when they forget their jacket knowing next time they'll remember. 

I'm not a fan of "swooping" type parenting, rushing in to save my children from consequences. 

But this week I swooped. 

It was Aliya's first day at her new middle school now that we've moved to Tempe.  I sat with her in the office for the hour and half it took to get things squared away in the system and I felt so uneasy the whole time.  The caliber of students were, shall we say, a little frightening.  The staff was great, but I just couldn't see her fitting in.  Four moms came and went while I was there and they all looked like crack heads.  I'm not kidding.  Not in the "I'm at the school in my pajamas because I was in a hurry and needed to just run in" kind of way but the "fine I'll pull myself away from my crack pipe long enough to go to the school and complain to them that my kid is late because he ran to the corner store to get me more cigarettes and it's totally a good reason to miss" kind of way. 

They paired her up with a girl to be her buddy and it was time for me to leave.

I sat in my car and cried.

Two hours later she called me bawling her eyes out and I couldn't understand a word she was saying.  My heart was being ripped in half.  She was saying that kids were making fun of her for a variety of reasons, one of which being that she brought her lunch in stead of buying.  I wanted to knock some heads together.  I was in Gilbert running errands and couldn't get to her quickly so I called Hubby and he went over and talked with her and the Principal.  He's a really great guy and was so understanding.  He told Hubby to check out two nearby schools and see if they would be a better fit.  He made her go to one more class.  I wanted to yank her out immediately. 

He found a great one and it's going to be a perfect fit.  She'll have to wear uniforms and it's harder academically but it's where she belongs. 

Was it the right thing to let her quit after one day?  I think in this case it was.  Looking back I should have walked right out while I was with her that morning.  My mothers heart knew something was wrong, that it was not going to be as simple as adjusting to new surroundings.  But I didn't want to rescue too quickly. 

Next time I'll listen to my intuition sooner. 

And just this once I'm okay being called a swooper.

Happy birthday to my baby

Today my baby is 8!!

Wow I'm old!

Daymon is a blur of fantastic flying feats, energy, sensitivity, dog loving, bath hating, bundle of joy.

I'm so lucky I get to be his mom.

Happy birthday kiddo!!

Trip

These pictures are not in order, so I apologize to all those type A's out there.  It was just too much energy to muster to actually flip them around.  Aaaaaannnnnndd they are a little fuzzy from my editing.  Which bothers me more than them being out of order.  And these are only a small portion of what we took.  We snapped just shy of one thousand.  I'm thinking you don't really want to sift through that many.  But it's just a hunch. 

I was trying to think of my favorite memories to share with you instead of just listing each thing we did everyday. 

~ When invited into a home we were always immediately escorted into the guest room.  It was always the nicest room in the home, filled with elaborate furniture, usually gold, and all the finest things they owned.  They would serve us tea in the prettiest cups and saucers I've ever seen and we would chat if they could speak English or smile and gesture if they couldn't.  This room makes perfect sense if you think about it.  It's always clean and if a guest drops by unexpectedly you don't have to worry about your house being messy.  I need one of these rooms.

~  When we went to Jaresh, we took two taxis.  The two drivers stayed with us for the whole day.  They ate lunch with us, walked around with us, held my kids' hands, posed in pictures and at the end of the day took us home. 

~  When we were in a taxi trying to find the home of our friend, we realized our driver spoke no English and we were lost.  He pulled over to a random shop and greeted the owner who came out and used his cell phone to call our friend, then got into the taxi with us to show us where to go. 

~  Standing looking out at the Sea of Galilee and listening to Hubby read from the Bible the story of the demoniac who lived in the tombs and whom Jesus cast out the demons into the pigs and seeing the story in a whole new way. 

~ Watching my kids' eyes light up in amazement at the sight of the Treasury in Petra.  Laughing with them as they were whisked up on the back of a camel and hauling myself up a flight of hidden stairs they were so excited to find even though I thought it was impossible to put one more foot in front of the other.

~ Being invited to an engagement party where men and women were separated and being in a hot sweaty room with a couple hundred ladies, no draft, the music thundering, and everyone wanting to talk to me and Lindy or pinch my kids' cheeks and having such a wonderful time I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night. 

~ Talking with Ronya and realizing that moms are moms and have the same concerns and issues no matter where on the planet you live.  Moms in Jordan also want more sleep, desire to go to the bathroom alone, have kids who throw tantrums and wish there more hours in the day. 

~ Teaching my kids that even though you can't speak the same language, soccer can be played with no words, laughter and cheers will do just fine. 

~ Getting a taste of what true hospitality means, eating on the floor with my hands, and drinking Turkish coffee with the women while the men were in the other room smoking cigars. 

~  Wondering through a castle built in the 1300's, sliding my hands across walls and trying to imagine what it must have been like to have actually lived there. 

~ Trying to remember that social norms are different in other places while answering, for the hundredth time, how old I am.

~ Hearing the call to prayer five times each day and being reminded to pray myself and realizing that I like being reminded. 

Ronya's fathers house.  All the women hanging out together.

The Treasury at Petra {you may recognize it from the third Indiana Jones movie}



Aliya riding a horse into Petra.




Sea of Galilee





Petra




Eating breakfast at our hotel Al Joude.  Each morning it was boiled eggs, pita bread, hummus, cucumbers, tomatoes and juice. 




Jeff Sloan, Jason Corley and our two taxi drivers who's names I unfortunately cannot remember.




Jaresh in the theater where they would joust and fight.





In a castle built in the 1300's during the crusades.




Excited to go!




The Colosseum at Jaresh





Caroline, Rahaff and Aliya walking in Um Quise





Fresh figs





Dylan at Jaresh




Aliya and Dylan riding a camel in Petra.  They named him JJ.



Lindy Sloan, Ronya and myself at Um Quise.

Granny panties in three, two, one. . .

I have a million pictures to show you, however, I've not yet downloaded them. 

So in the mean time I thought I'd share a funny story. 

On the flight there on Royal Jordanian, the flight attendants wore very traditional uniforms, like the ones in "Catch me if you can" with Leonardo DiCaprio.  Dylan says to me "why did all the airplane helper girls have plastic surgery on their legs?"  Okay, I had no idea what on earth he was talking about.  After looking them over I realized he doesn't know what panty hose are so he thought their legs looked like plastic!  That kid cracks me up. 

And a not so funny story.  At least not to me.

I was body scanned on the way back.  You know that machine that looks through your clothes.  All I know is I was minding my own business, putting my shoes in the plastic container, throwing away the unopened pop in my bag, helping my kids and they pulled me aside right after letting  Hubby and the kids go through the regular metal decetor and make me stand in the body scanner.  And they kept referring to me as The Female.  Well obviously.  We really need to keep our eyes on those thirty something moms out there.  All that laundry, cleaning, shuffling kids from this to that and cooking can really make a woman snap.    Apparently I look dangerous.  Dangerous in my unflattering wrinkled shirt, jeans, no makeup and crazy airplane hair.  Ug.  Just ug. 

So, soon I will display an obsene amount of pictures of one of the best trips I've ever taken. 

Until then, I will entertain those around me with my jet lag. 

Hello from Jordan!

After 15 hours of flying and then getting into a taxi for two more hours we finally made it to Iribid Jordan.  

The journey has been more than worth it as we were surrounded by the most loving, hospitible, generous, beautiul people I have ever met.  We were invited to Jordan by our dear friends Jeff and Lindy Sloan and they have generously shared their friends with us.  We started the day taking a walk as a family around the city and then traveling in a taxi to the village of the family we are here to see.  Names of people and places have been very hard for me to remember, so tomrrow I'll be writing them down!  I'm about the butcher the names I do know, so bear with me.  Firras and Ranya and their two gorgeous daughters Rahaff and Kinda are such amazing people.  They have fully welcomed us into their home, over fed us and graciously introduced us to thier entire family.  Well, not all of them, they have 10,000 people in their family, so some of them!  Not everyone speaks english and I speak zero Arabic so when we don't have someone to translate we just laugh a lot and try to use gestures.  It's been so much fun!  Aliya is getting so much attention!  I'm sure the blonde hair and blue eyes have something to do with it, as well as her sweet personality.  And we've learned that "Aliya" is an Arabic name and means something along the lines of "princess".  The boys are getting noticed a lot too and Dylan esspecially has been basking in his new found popularity.  We've only been here for one day and I already have so many stories to share!  It takes a very long time for the pictures to load here, so I've only included a few.  I'll have many more to share soon. I'm having a love affair with the food.  I may need to be rolled onto the plane when this week is up.  I ate figs right off the tree this afternoon and they are to die for.  Ranya makes her own olive oil.  If they keep feeding me like this I'm never coming home. 

Ignore the shiny face, it's HOT here.

Clarify please

I wanted to share an odd text from Hubby.  Because I was confused so why not confuse you too?

       "Hey, I have a buddy who's moving to California and they won't let him in with his flying
        squirrel."

Who won't let him in?  The place he's going to be staying or California?  Why is California against flying squirrels, I googled them and they're pretty cute.  Are regular squirrels okay and California is just opposed to squirrels who are "fancy" and "free thinking"?  I'm not a flying squirrel hater.

        "Do you want me to tell him we'll take it?"

Hold up.  I know I said I wasn't a squirrel hater but exactly how does one keep a flying squirrel?  Is it caged?  Because that sounds mean.  It's been given the gift of flight and it has to stay in a cage?  We also have cats.

         "It's nocturnal and has a cage but also flys around the house."

This gets weirder by the minute.  I don't think I want to be casually walking around my house and have a squirrel zip past my head.  And exactly how does it fly?  And what does it being nocturnal have to do with anything?  It will only fly around the house at night?  Like Batman?

And do you think I got the answers to my questions?  No.  I did not.  He moved on to something else and didn't text back.  And then when I got home I forgot to ask about it.  So you are as in the dark as I am.  If I have to be confused I want someone here with me.

Now a cute text.  From my daughter who was having a sleep over.

          "Hey momma, I miss you a ton!!!!!!!!!!!  When you get home maybe you can do our makeup? 
         And  then we can wash it off and watch a movie and have popcorn and eat Doritos."
Because nothing says sleep over like makeup and Doritos. 

Only I have to add to the previous weirdness with a story about the Doritos.  They were Cool Ranch and they were calling my name.  However the Doritos people forgot to add the spices so they were undercover regular corn tortilla chips in a Cool Ranch bag.  Absolutely no flavor.  I cannot do makeup and watch movies under these conditions.  A strongly worded letter is in order. 

And now I'm done. 
The end. 

The washing machine didn't kill me. It won't kill you either.

We are traveling to Jordan in three days and nothing is packed.  Nothing.

30% of our laundry is done and half of that is unfolded. 
We do know where the passports are though, so that has to count for something. 

I'd say I'm pretty okay at house cleaning.  I mean things are clean, but not always uncluttered, and that's fine with me.  Things are relatively organized and although we just moved most of the boxes are unpacked and have a home. 

I do suck at laundry though. 

If I remember to take things out of the dryer it's hours later when they're nice and wrinkled and have no hope of returning to the original state.  If they make it to the living room floor to be folded they don't always make it to the proper room.  If they make it to the right room, they tend to sit on the dresser, not in it, and if they get in the drawers there is a hallelujah chorus but they don't stay folded.  Just sort of get thrown in.

I know this.  Hubby knows this.

But for some reason I'm still left doing the laundry despite many threats of "if you don't like how I do it, then do it yourself!"  I then take a laundry sabbatical, tell myself I don't truly need clean clothes to be happy and ignore the growing pile.  Eventually I give in, throw in a load and then forget it's there, until someone is pleading for clean underwear.  My boys have gone commando on more than one occasion.  For some reason Aliya refuses to do so.  Something about it being gross and blah, blah, blah.

And there's the problem of Hubby's clothes.  If something is going to get ruined it will be his.  Every.  Time.  No matter how careful I try to be.  And I truly do try.  I will shrink it, bleach it, stretch it or stain it.  And I have no idea how it happens.  He now gives me the evil eye before handing over his shirts along with a list of instructions. 

I don't understand how this is still my job.

I know I'm the mom but come on.

I checked and there is nothing on the machine that says it's strictly for use by women.  It seems to be pretty dual gender friendly.  Which is what I look for in a washer. 

Why should I hog all the fabric-softening fun?  I think it's time to share the love.  Or everyone is going commando.

you have a what where?

Yesterday Daymon came screeching into the house frantically yelling that he had an ant in his eye.
An ant. 

Sure enough I could see it but he would not let me near him. 

After lots of reassuring and attempting to calm him down, we tried everything. 

Eye drops, a tissue, a Q-tip, my finger, his finger and nothing would work.  The ant had latched on to his eye skin and then died.  It would not move.  So we went to our friend's house for dinner and we happened to meet a new couple and the husband is a paramedic. 

So Daymon was more willing to let a fire fighter near his eye than his own mom.  Go figure.

After lots of tears and numerous attempts he was able to get it out.  But the ant's head was still there.  Correction, is still there. 

So he's just walking around with an ant head attached to his eyeball.  I'm thinking that can't be good, but what do I know?  I'm just a dumb ol' nurse, not a cool fire fighter. 

When I called urgent care they were befuddled and said if I was really concerned I could take him to the ER. 

So. . .

I guess he's fine? 

Anyone ever had an ant in the eye and can offer some suggestions?  I'm at a loss.

Did you see that guy?

Got Motrin?

We do.  Lots of it, because we also have fevers, vomit and some interesting hallucinations.

Dylan was convinced in his fever induced state, that there was a guy in our house with an eagle and a jar of money. 

He wasn't very happy that I didn't believe him, so I finally gave in and agreed with him, although the least the guy could have done was to leave the money, because children's Motrin is not cheap. 

I am the one person in our house not to get the flu.  And while I would love to chalk it up to an amazing immune system, it's actually because the slightly pushy "flu shot team" was in the break room at the same time I wanted to enjoy some eggs and they talked me into getting one.  If by talk you mean jumped me and stabbed me and left me unable to move my left arm for three days.  But I'm not bitter. 

In fact, I guess I owe them a thank you.  I quite enjoy not throwing up.  Now if my kids would just stop doing it.  I don't really "do" throw up.  Hubby does.  Bleeding?  I'm your girl.  Vomitting, I'm in the next room.  But love ya!  Just from over here.

*air hug*