Guess I'm not as tired as I thought. Unless tired= verbose.
I'm exhausted. My brain fluid is leaking out through my elbows, that's how exhausted I am. Did you know that it could do that? Neither did I.
Also, there's something underneath my left shift key. I'm pretty sure it's a dead ant. And I don't use my right shift key, which my eighth grade Grade Eight (Canada, yo!) computer teacher would hate. It makes writing a bit annoying.
Also, there are people bathing at the well outside my window. Sometimes my life feels very strange.
Why am I exhausted, you ask? (Thanks for asking, by the way.) It's because teething has begun, and last night by the time I got to sleep the bread walla was already riding by on his bicycle. Which means it was about 6:00 AM. Not good, my friends, not good. But I'm hoping to sleep better tonight, because of the TYLENOL I gave my hurting son. My philosophy on baby meds is this: Sanity. Let me repeat that. Sanity. For both of us. It is for the greater good that we remain sane.
We spent the night at the house of some friends, (I avoided an awkward apostrophe moment with the way I worded that sentence) and wow, these friends are beautiful. The husband is French and the wife is Italian, and they have kids that match YaYa and Leafy in age. So sweet. The woman, I'll call her S, is one of the loveliest and most joyful people that I've had the privilege of knowing. The kids all slept in a row in the great room, and S threw them each a flower before they went to sleep. I watched as her daughter spread the petals of her flower all over her bed and then lay down on them to go to sleep. (!)
The last eight months have been a study in cultural adjustment for me, and since the community here is so International, it's like a UN study of culture adjustment or something. I've met people from Slovania, from the Ukraine, from Portugal, Korea, Iraq, Iran, of course Israel, countless Russians, people from Denmark and Belgium and Finland and Germany, people from all the corners of the UK, and the other day I met a couple from Luxembourg. They spoke Luxembourgish. It's a recognized language now, though it used to be considered a dialect- a particular mix of German and French.
But get this. 200,000 people speak it. 200,000. That's like Yonkers, New York; Providence, Rhode Island; Huntsville, Alabama; OR Dayton, Ohio deciding to speak their own language. Just one of those cities. The world is a cool place.
But so, there we were, our European friends and us, and we had decided to wait until after the kids had eaten to eat our own food. We do this because we like to enjoy our food, just one out of a hundred times. But YaYa didn't want to eat her fish, so I picked up her plate and polished it off for her. S entered the room and said, "Oh no no, Rachelle! Not like this!" Because we were setting the table with champagne and candles, not eating our children's leftovers for dinner.
And once again I made the great North American gaffe of being overly casual. Like waving goodbye (K, Bye!) instead of kissing. Or standing when you eat. Or shutting the lights off while you say to your kids, "Goodnight! If I hear any noise out of there I'm coming in and smacking people indiscriminately!!!" (Not that I ever say that.)
I mean, who's to say that my way of putting my kids to bed isn't just as sweet as throwing flowers at your children? Ahem. (Cough.) Well? Who's to say?
Oh dang. Maybe if I'm really good, one day I'll get to be European. But then who will make potty jokes with Chinua? I guess I'll just stay me.
Also, there's something underneath my left shift key. I'm pretty sure it's a dead ant. And I don't use my right shift key, which my eighth grade Grade Eight (Canada, yo!) computer teacher would hate. It makes writing a bit annoying.
Also, there are people bathing at the well outside my window. Sometimes my life feels very strange.
Why am I exhausted, you ask? (Thanks for asking, by the way.) It's because teething has begun, and last night by the time I got to sleep the bread walla was already riding by on his bicycle. Which means it was about 6:00 AM. Not good, my friends, not good. But I'm hoping to sleep better tonight, because of the TYLENOL I gave my hurting son. My philosophy on baby meds is this: Sanity. Let me repeat that. Sanity. For both of us. It is for the greater good that we remain sane.
We spent the night at the house of some friends, (I avoided an awkward apostrophe moment with the way I worded that sentence) and wow, these friends are beautiful. The husband is French and the wife is Italian, and they have kids that match YaYa and Leafy in age. So sweet. The woman, I'll call her S, is one of the loveliest and most joyful people that I've had the privilege of knowing. The kids all slept in a row in the great room, and S threw them each a flower before they went to sleep. I watched as her daughter spread the petals of her flower all over her bed and then lay down on them to go to sleep. (!)
The last eight months have been a study in cultural adjustment for me, and since the community here is so International, it's like a UN study of culture adjustment or something. I've met people from Slovania, from the Ukraine, from Portugal, Korea, Iraq, Iran, of course Israel, countless Russians, people from Denmark and Belgium and Finland and Germany, people from all the corners of the UK, and the other day I met a couple from Luxembourg. They spoke Luxembourgish. It's a recognized language now, though it used to be considered a dialect- a particular mix of German and French.
But get this. 200,000 people speak it. 200,000. That's like Yonkers, New York; Providence, Rhode Island; Huntsville, Alabama; OR Dayton, Ohio deciding to speak their own language. Just one of those cities. The world is a cool place.
But so, there we were, our European friends and us, and we had decided to wait until after the kids had eaten to eat our own food. We do this because we like to enjoy our food, just one out of a hundred times. But YaYa didn't want to eat her fish, so I picked up her plate and polished it off for her. S entered the room and said, "Oh no no, Rachelle! Not like this!" Because we were setting the table with champagne and candles, not eating our children's leftovers for dinner.
And once again I made the great North American gaffe of being overly casual. Like waving goodbye (K, Bye!) instead of kissing. Or standing when you eat. Or shutting the lights off while you say to your kids, "Goodnight! If I hear any noise out of there I'm coming in and smacking people indiscriminately!!!" (Not that I ever say that.)
I mean, who's to say that my way of putting my kids to bed isn't just as sweet as throwing flowers at your children? Ahem. (Cough.) Well? Who's to say?
Oh dang. Maybe if I'm really good, one day I'll get to be European. But then who will make potty jokes with Chinua? I guess I'll just stay me.