Lees On The Go

Buggy Love

2012-02-13T10:15:00.001+03:00

I didn't waste much time. Once I hit terra firma and got past my jet lag I knew it was time to start shopping. And the list of items this time I'm in the US of A veers away from cute clothing boutiques for myself and toward the land of the layette.

We've (I use the term loosely...I should say HE ~ meaning my husband the Research Guru) been looking into strollers (...and cribs, and portable cribs, and diaper pails & toys, and, and, and...) to see which ones out there get the best reviews and will also work with our rather unusual lifestyle. It's been my job to go look at them in person.

Britax BAgile? Check.
City Mini jogger? Check.
Uppa Baby Vista? Check.
Bumbleride Indie? True Love.

See the surfboard in the picture? See the stroller on sand? It's a stroller made by San Diegans for unusual terrain. That's us. It's lightweight. It's high quality. But most importantly, it comes in red.

Wrap it up, I'll take it! Well, not so fast actually. Mr. Research will of course look into the best deal on the best stroller. And that is just one more reason why I love him. Always looking for a way to save money in order to have enough pocket change to buy me flowers.

Now aren't you glad I didn't decide to write about what he's been researching in regards to diaper pails?

Americana

2012-02-11T08:25:00.000+03:00

Do you have any idea how good you've got it?

Seriously, American friends. You live in the land of potty protectors, drive through Starbucks & self check out stands at WalMart. And do not EVEN get me started on the refillable sodas that are served in cups the size of your head. You want it? You've got it. And for a time, I am absolutely enjoying all of it right along with you.

And as I breathe a contended sigh of simple pleasure each time I walk into a public restroom that is well stocked with the trifecta of sanitary perfection (seat covers, toilet paper, AND soap), All. The. Time. I am also finding great pleasure in watching my boys as they experience Americana in their own way.

For instance...

We went to the movies today. We did NOT have an unfamiliar national anthem played which we were required to stand for.

We went to their cousin's basketball game tonight. We did stand for our very OWN national anthem at the game. And, having been out of the US for quite some time, the boys had to be reminded to stand. They had to be reminded to cover their heart. They had to be reminded to use their right hand to do so. They had to be reminded to face the flag which we were honoring.

We saw cheerleaders at the basketball game. They've never seen those before. Very impressive to a 7 & 9 year old. Both for their tumbling skills & their adorableness.

Mommy went through a drive through Starbucks. Connor asked me to order him a hamburger. THAT part of Americana they 'get'. The fact that a coffee shop has drive throughs is still an oddity to them.

And one other, not so pleasant yet still vitally important piece of Americana we stumbled across in the news today was the reminder of 'Stranger Danger'. We read about (& I talked it over with the boys) a 2nd grade girl who was allowed to play in the toy aisle at WalMart while her mom was a couple of aisles over. A man tried to abduct her but she kicked and screamed until he put her down and ran away. It's real. It happens sometimes. Most times, kids are safe in America. But it's something like that that reminds me, as a mom who has let down her guard over the years (because really, in Nairobi, what would-be-abductor wants the hassle of snatching a mzungu kid? They eat far too much & complain enough to make it unpleasant to have to maintain them) that I must be reminded to be watchful.

America...it is it's own special place. And there is a lot about it that I love. The trifecta of sanitary perfection in public restrooms ranks really high on that list.

You Know You're Not in Kenya Anymore When....

2012-02-01T08:00:00.002+03:00

Yesterday we landed in the good old US of A and, like my friend Ann at Adventures of a Freckle Faced Girl, it didn't take long to start noticing some differences between where we live (Kenya) and where we grew up (California).

You Know You're Not In Kenya Anymore....

* When you go to the movies and don't stand up for the national anthem before the show begins.

* When you get up at 6:30 in the morning & it's still pitch black dark outside, but the sun goes down completely by 5:30 pm.

* When your children compliment their grandparents on how "soft the toilet paper is" at their house.

* When one of the simple pleasures each day is rinsing after you brush with water straight from the tap.

* When you can go straight up to any ATM and not pass a single security guard along the way (gun toting or not). Nor do you pass guards standing watch at every gate of every home you pass along the way from Point A to Point B.

* When you find grocery store foods in their rightful places. Milk and eggs are found in the refrigerator section. And it's rare that you'll find any camel's milk alongside it.

* When you can understand all of the words to the songs on the radio.

* When you can't send your driver to pick up an item from your housekeeper and then take your gardener to the plant nursery. All while you have coffee with a friend.

* When you don't count how many geckos have collected around your porch lights in the evening.

* When your children are surprised to see trees without any leaves on them. "We call this time of year 'winter', children. It happens regularly in some parts of the world."

* When you feel ill at ease because the home you're in doesn't have barbed wire topping off it's security walls. Nor does it have security walls.

* When you don't wake up wondering if you have internet that day or how many days it will be down.

* When you don't ever give directions that include how many round abouts to pass through or speed bumps to go over along the way. And when your GPS isn't constantly confused & needing to 'recalculate'.

* When you don't pass a single cow, Masai warrior or mama with a baby on her back walking in the road on which you are driving.

Kenya is our home & we are liking it more and more the longer that we stay. But for today, it's good to be back in California. If even only for a time.

"Sunny Days...Sweeping The Clouds Away..."

2012-01-27T18:23:00.000+03:00

You know the next line, don't you?

"Can you tell me how to get,
how to get to
Sesame Street?"

And all through out this past week Dwaine has been in big important meetings with some Monster representatives in order to find out exactly how to bring Sesame Street here...to Kenya! Does he have the most fun job in the Foreign Service, or what?

And the fun for me has been the "How was your day, darling?" conversations at the end of the days this week. More often than not, that question would be answered this way...

So? How did the lunch meeting go?
Great! I just wish they would have left their finance guy out of it...
Really? Why is that?
When the bill came he suddenly started yelling, "The number of the day! The number of the day! 8 is the number of the day!" And all that confetti & balloons? What a mess!

And then again the next day....

What did you think about the Sesame representative you met with today?
She was ok, I suppose.
Oh, really? Just ok?
Yeah, she had this really annoying habit that was a little off-putting. Whenever anyone would order a latte she would literally reach over and GRAB the cookie that comes with it right off of the side of their saucer. So wierd!

And just because we're on a roll & having fun with the theme, I sent an sms yesterday...

Hey, there! Are you meeting with the Sesame people today?
No. The meetings are done for the week....
Oh, that's odd b/c I just passed a guy in the hall who looks EXACTLY like Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Oh, it all went on and on and on. Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, Elmo...no monster was off limits this week. And we think we're pretty darn witty. Which makes it good that we found one another.

What I most enjoyed (vicariously, of course) about the week of meetings with the Sesame big wigs was what I found out about the organization itself. I like a lot about Sesame Workshop that has very little to do with knowing the word of the day or how to get to Mr. Hooper's store.

I liked hearing that in India, Sesame Street is taken to outlying villages using rickshaw and is played for children and adults in the main square.

I liked hearing that when Sesame comes to a new country the first concern isn't the net profit that can be made from merchandise sales but rather the demographic of the country and the openness of the country to accept the type of educational show that it is.

I like that not only did the Sesame representatives want to come to Nairobi (our bustling metropolis of a capital city), but also wanted to spend some time visiting teachers and schools in the poorer outlying areas. The New York representatives wanted to see who would really be in need of & influenced by their program.

I like that Sesame Workshop as an organization thinks outside of the box. The TV box, that is. They talked with Dwaine about a wide variety of medias that could be used to get their program out there. Cell phones? How did that make the list? SMS messages, in Swahili, encouraging parents to talk about the number and letter of the day. Brilliantly appropriate for the country in which we live.

I like that Dwaine came home from one of the bigger meetings with 3 little plush toys courtesy of the Sesame Workshop folks. Big Bird, Elmo & Cookie Monster...one for each of my kiddos.

So Dwaine, who is making his mark on Kenya in the area of education and youth empowerment issues, may leave behind him the legacy of having been the man who brought big, furry (friendly!) monsters to Kenya in order to help teach children how to read. And I think that is really, really great.

Mystery Packages

2012-01-25T09:53:00.001+03:00

My husband has told me to stop asking questions.

My friends reply to my direct text messages with vague responses (...or none at all).

And every day my housekeeper comes to me with her hands behind her back saying that a helicopter has landed somewhere near by and dropped off a package. And, oddly enough, she has zero recollection of who it was that stopped by, the type of car they were in or what the name of their driver was.

...I'm beginning to think that something is up....

But for the past 3 days I've been the grateful recipient of little treasures. They come in bags like this

...and not a one of them has one of these.

And each little gift bag, delivered by helicopter by some faceless person who will not reply to my text messages, has something like this in it.

...or something for the nursery, or a picture frame, or some other little darlingness.

And I am touched. Touched that my friends, who listened not at all when I told them "No Baby Showers!!!". Because I'm getting the sense that this rowdy bunch of disobedient ladies has just opted for a baby shower sans games & finger foods. I find that incredibly creative & yet another gesture of sweetness & kindness from a group of women I already appreciate for a million other reasons on top of this.

So the girl who was raised with strong beliefs around the written thank you note (done in my own hand as soon as I was able to hold a pencil...though I've been horrible at this since the dawning of the age of email) to know who to address these notes to.

And it looks like I'll have to wait a little longer because I just heard a car drive up & Stella is talking to the driver in hushed tones. A secret package is about to walk upstairs. I can hardly wait to find out who I get to thank for this one.

For today, my rowdy bunch of friends, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your little sweet gestures of love and kindness are making this busy (& somewhat melancholy) week a lot more full of smiles & sunshine.

Medevac Eve

2012-01-23T13:59:00.001+03:00

Twas the week before Medevac
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Except the slightly stressed, over-tired, not-quite-ready-yet Mama Mouse....

Saturday night I leave Kenya on a maternity medevac. In 144 hours (plus or minus) the boys and I will land safe and sound in California. And throughout the past 2 weeks the question most often asked of me has been, "Are you getting excited to go?"

Truthfully? No.

I have worked up a certain level of looking-forward-ness to the joy being with family. (Family is the one true highlight to this trip! That and having a new baby, of course). To being away from some of the cultural sub-points of daily life in Nairobi. To feeling my shoulders relax as I can put down the small but real burden that comes from living life at a post that comes with regular reminders about "Security Issues". So looking forward to some things, yes. To getting up the gumption to go, no.

But, really? Honestly, I wish I could just stay here. With Dwaine. As a family. Inviting family to come to see us when our new baby is arrives. It goes against the grain of an expectant mother's "Nesting Phase" to pack her bags and fly to a Rental Nest some 10,000 miles away. That little red line takes a long time to get from one end of to the other....

Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled to be able to be with family. It's the longest amount of time we've spent in California since before Dwaine and I were married. And I'm also immensely grateful for the amazing care given to us by the US Gov't that employs my husband & takes care of me. Seriously good care. How? You may ask, does the US State Department take care of you during this time? I'm glad you asked...because it's really pretty great.

* Medevacs ~ For the bigger, more important appointments like key ultrasounds, I was sent to South Africa (our medevac location for Kenya), given a generous enough per diem to take care of whatever hotel/food/transportation needs I would incure while there. In fact, a hotel was arranged for me as was transport to and from the airport.
(What is 'medevac'? Good question. Medical Evacuation...sounds tragic & 911-ish. But it's not always. It's a category of travel that the State Department uses to differentiate ~fiscally ~ from regularly scheduled trips).

* Regular appointments. We have a great medical office within the embassy that saw to all of my maternity needs. Provided vitamins, regular appointments, etc. One of the doctors and one of the nurse practitioners both specialize in prenatal needs. (The doctor just so happens to be my next door neighbor. I had to get over any awkwardness this might pose really early on....).

And on the couple of occasions that I went in full of confusion, frustration & fear when it came time to decide where to have this baby, I was given a listening ear that only a medical professional who knows me from having gotten to know my entire family over a near 3 year span of time can give. And along with the listening ear were good solid facts to help me to make final choices.

* '3 Free Tickets to Anywhere....' ~ Well, not exactly anywhere, but close. For medevac you don't have to fly to a certain destination. One can stay in the host country (Kenya), go to the Medevac country (South Africa, or if I pushed for it, England), or go to the USA. The USA is a big, big place with a lot of lovely destinations to consider for baby delivery. And we looked at all of the viable options. For the first few months I was fairly certain the boys and I would be in South Africa. Then, when that option was left behind, we considered Hawaii, DC, Massachusetts, Florida, and several options within California.

It was a much, much (would a 3rd 'much' be going overboard?) harder decision than we had ever thought it would be. So, yes, the generosity of the State Department has bought the boys and I 3 tickets to Anywhere. And we are very appreciative. But the decision about where 'Anywhere' should be didn't come without it's cost.

* Home Sweet Home Away From Home ~ Where to live within the USA was one big decision. Where to live within the state of choice (California) was another big decision with it's own set of multiple considerations to take into account. And then, once the city was decided on, came the task of finding the perfect Home Sweet Home. And in this important decision we had a lot of fantastic help from family. We could not have narrowed down the choices without them. We have found a fantastic home that we'll live in for 3 months. I can't post a photo of it here because all the photos I have link directly to the web site...which comes complete with a map directing you to my front door. But thanks to the per diem offered by the State Dept. we are able to rent a home that will more than adequately meet our family's needs for the time we're in CA. And, thanks to high and low seasons of travel, we were able to stretch that budget even further than we'd hoped.

* Layette ~ So, once one has a baby, they must clothe & care for the precious bundle. And since I don't happen to have a Babies R Us down the street where I can find strollers, cribs, changing tables & rocking chairs, the State Department offers us a layette shipment. Perhaps if we didn't live in a developing country, this particular chapter in the book of "Having a Baby in the FS" wouldn't be there. But we are here & safe cribs, strollers & high chairs are not. So, generously we are given a separate shipment in order to bring these things home with us here. And for that I am truly grateful. Want to see which crib we picked out? It's here. Perfectly princessy.

So, Naoma, with soooo much provided for you...why aren't you more excited to go?

I'm sorry. I really wish I were. I want to be excited. And in the grand scheme of things, how I feel about going matters not at all. I'm still flying out on Saturday. Come Monday when I land, I'll be more than thrilled to be there. And I'm doing all I can, mentally, to 'get over myself' so to speak. But I'm just not ready to go. Why?

* It's a long, long trip. 24 hours of travel time. An overnight in the middle to break it up a little. 48 hours of being en route. But sitting is uncomfortable these days. And caring for 2 squirmy, excited, over-tired on an overnight trip young boys is challenging.

* I just did this trip. We were home for the summer. To go home again mid-year seems a bit too early to my system. I haven't had a chance to really miss anything about America yet. Which, as far as the wallet goes, is probably a really good thing.

* Same place, different way. We'll be in the same place where we typically spend our summer vacation days. But I realize now that the way I know this place is different than the way I've experienced it for the past 13 summers or Christmases over the years. I've come to find out that what I thought I knew about the way things are and how time is spent is slightly different than I'd anticipated. It's also occurred to me recently that I've never driven a car in the city in which we're going to live. I know where things are...I just don't know how to get to any of them. That'll be funny....

* Leaving home. This is my home. This is where I belong....for now. And to pack up and leave it for 6 months...that's not a trip. That's a move. I'm going to miss friends & life as I know it. (FS friends are reading and asking, 6 months? I thought it was 3? Normally it is...but our Home Leave hits right at the end of my medevac...so, use it or lose it & with Home Leave you can only go one way. So our trip is extended in order to use it. And really...coming back to Kenya in the dead of equatorial winter sounds depressing).

* School. Call me crazy (some of you have) but I'm going to home school the boys while we're there. For such a short period of time we think it's best to not ask our boys, who already have a zillion transitions required of them in their lives, not be asked to make this short term transition too. I'm a teacher by background but I've never tried to 'school' my own kids. This might come as a piece of cake for many of you, but I'm scared to death that I'm going to blow it. And that fear may be exactly what is required to keep me sharp enough to not drop the ball.

* Dwaine. The bottom line is that it seems totally and completely 100% unnatural to me that in the last weeks before delivering our baby, we're going to be separated. And I am just going to miss him. Plain and simple. All of the above are excuses. This one is solid fact.

I'm moving to what is essentially a new overseas post (FS friends, you get that, don't you?) without my life partner. And that is going to be hard. And what it all boils down to is that I am not looking forward to being apart, moving into a new home apart, trying to put my boys through school apart, and trying to not have a baby while we are apart.

Excited? No. Anticipating good things & thankful for the care given to me and my family as we move into this next chapter of life? Definitely! Knowing that I am giving my boys the gift of what may be the one time in their lives to be surrounded by extended family for this long of a time? Priceless treasure. And for that, I'd make the trip any day.

Baby Shower

2012-01-15T16:57:00.002+03:00

A couple of weeks ago there was a baby shower for our Little Lady Lee to be. But I wasn't invited. Which is just fine. It was a surprise 'Grandma Shower' for my mom thrown by her college friends. They had planned to have brunch together one Saturday afternoon, and unbeknownst to my mom, it was the perfect chance for a little surprise shower.

My room in CA laden with precious, tiny, pink & flowery outfits

College friends (and one puppy)

I may be all grown up now, but I still recall being about 5 and going to a baby shower for one of these wonderful women when she was expecting triplets. I remember being about 8 and having another one of those college chums visiting our home frequently and allowing me, a budding hair dresser, comb & decorate her long red hair & liking it so well she kept it that way. She also gave me one of my first most memorable gifts ~ a blank journal & a brand new set of markers, & told me that one day she'd like to write a book about dinosaurs. Spurring in me the desire to write one too...someday. (I actually have 5 stories that are 'in process'...inspired by that first beautiful book of blank pages). And by the time I was 10 I'd had the opportunity to join all of these women and their families for a memorable horseback riding & picnic day in foggy beautiful Half Moon Bay as well as a number of long bike rides through the countryside. They are just as fun as they look & I am blessed for having gotten to know them!

These women are a part of the fabric of my mother's youthful university days. And also, by good fortune, of the fabric of many of my own childhood memories.

A Grandmother's Baby Shower...just another gesture of their thoughtfulness & friendship.

Dusty Wingtips

2012-01-13T12:52:00.094+03:00

As often as possible, Dwaine gets out from behind his imposing looking desk and gets out "into the field". In his position as Education Officer for USAID more often than not, 'the field' is quite literally a big, dusty, dirty wide open field. Typically, when he goes out into the field he is there to address a large group of students and teachers. Or he's there to meet with school administrators. Something important, diplomatic & bureaucratic.

And though he loves every minute of the time he spends out in the field observing any of the number of amazing projects his office has started up, there are very few that so imbed themselves in his heart that he comes home talking about them with such a passion as he did yesterday.

Yesterday was different. Yesterday was personal. Yesterday reminded him that poverty has a name & a face. And that he, among others, is in the perfect position to help.

Dwaine went to work in a suit yesterday, just like every day. It was going to be a hot, dusty & dirty day. And little did Dwaine know he'd bring the dirt of Nakuru home not just all over the tops of his wing tips but also in his soul. He had plans to go to a few sites between Nakuru and Naivasha to participate in scholarship interviews. USAID is partnering with Equity Bank to offer scholarships to children entering High School. In Kenya elementary school fees are kept low in order to allow all children to attend. It's expected (though not always followed through on) that every child in Kenya will be given the opportunity to go to school up through the 8th grade. It's AFTER the 8th grade that poses a problem. The fees for entering High School are very expensive for some. And even though a child may be an excellent student, they simply cannot afford the fees. And the cycle of poverty continues.

So USAID & Equity Bank. They've partnered together to offer some valuable scholarships to students entering High School in the Fall. Over the past several months they've run advertisements in the local newspapers, on the radio, on TV & through their contacts with educators, administrators & orphanages. There is not a person in Kenya who does not know about substantial scholarships being offered to the ~~most worthy~~, ~~smartest~~, ~~most talented~~, ~~most capable~~ poorest of the poor children.

The scholarships being offered are meant specifically for students who are destitute. And Dwaine came home last night with some stories that will not only stay with him for a long time but also set the pace of his career & set the tempo for our family as we live in these countries around the world.

Here are a few stories that he came home and told the boys tonight. And it's hearing the life stories of others such as these that shape little boys into great men. And it's hearing stories like these that remind me of why we are here in the first place.

Masai Mama
The interviews that are taking place involve a panel of about 15 representatives from Equity Bank & USAID. They go to specific villages on a given day to conduct their interviews. Those who apply for these scholarships must have reached a particular score on their most recent exams. The score itself is just a smidge above average but when one considers it in the light of the challenges faced by these children to reach those scores...it's amazing any of them do.

The interviews in one particularly small village were running longer than anticipated. A Masai woman and her 14 year old son were told that they would have to wait until the next day to have their chance to sit before the committee. This woman and her son live a great distance away and had no extra money with them (remember...scholarships for the poorest of the poor). They had arrived early in the morning via a boda boda (motorcycle or bicycle taxi) and been waiting all day for their turn to be interviewed. Because they were from so far away, they did not know anyone in this village to ask for help and had no money for food or a place to stay. They had gone into a neighboring village to ask if any homes would allow them to stay the night. Because they were strangers it was assumed that they would rob the family whom they stayed with. So, that night, this young man and his mother slept under a bush. This is Kenya. There are wild animals, snakes, & poisonous spiders everywhere. Even a Masai young man would find this sleeping arrangement uncomfortable. This young man showed up the next morning at his interviews in well pressed clothes & gave clear articulate answers to the committee's questions. And each one of them knew that this boy was hungry, tired, & far from home. Yet he never once mentioned that he had slept in a bush all night just so that he might be considered for a scholarship to go to school. But they all knew.

IDPs
Internally Displaced Person. Refugee. Now, refugees make up a substantial group of youth that Dwaine's programs aim at helping. Kenya has a large population of Somali refugees that have worked hard to build lives for themselves and their families while living in some of the most desolate and unforgiving parts of this country.

The IDPs that Dwaine interviewed yesterday were different. They were Kenyan. Refugees of Kenya, living in Kenya? Yes. Due to the political unrest (read: neighbors killing neighbors with machetes & stealing their homes & property) a few years ago, many Kenyans who were living in cities or towns, who had good jobs & owned property, were forced to find safer areas for their families. Those safer locations are far from schools (but the kids go anyway), have no electricity (they do their homework by firelight), and feel like anything but "Home Sweet Home" (they live in tents).

One young man especially stood out to Dwaine. He and several members of his family live in a tent. The cooking tent is nearby. After making the long walk to and from his school each day he does his schoolwork until the sun goes down. When it is too dark to read, he goes into the kitchen tent and reads by the cooking fire. When he feels the need to study before school, he goes to one of the stores nearby that opens early and reads by their candlelight. He's 14 years old. If he has worked this hard since the post election political violence forced his family to move to a tent in the bush, that means that he began tenaciously teaching himself to rise above his own life situations & grab onto a strong education at the tender age of 10. That is amazing.

What that means is that this young man had seen real life images like this....

...had left a home similar to one like this...

...and now lives in one like this.

And this young man was able to pull together all of the necessary paperwork to apply for a scholarship. With confidence he sat before an intimidating group of important adults in suits and wing tips who would decide if he was poor enough to go to High School. And just to be certain, they went to see his home. Sure enough. He's just as poor as he said he was. (When his interview was finished, the whole IDP village who was standing just outside the interview tent, erupted in applause & embraced the boy).

As an aside, one of the things Dwaine commented on was that over and over again, their guide through the IDP village ~ who was missing one hand & had two enormous machete gashes running down his face & neck ~ was smiling, happy, articulate & kept referring to the gifts of building materials given to them by various organizations as a "blessing" and continually talked about how those who live on the small IDP plot of land had pooled their money together & bought it.

Do you read the Bible? This sounds like a direct living out of Matthew 5:3, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven". Blessed indeed. That visit was a direct blessing on Dwaine who came home and just could not convey in words what it was that he experienced in that village.

Orphans
Kenya has lots and lots and lots of orphaned children. Whether it's by HIV/Aids or post election violence or just the injustices of living in a poor underdeveloped country, there are children here who are raising themselves after being passed from one extended family member to the next. If they are fortunate, these orphans end up in the care of a woman like the one who brought in 4 of the young women whom she's raised. When she had read about the scholarships being awarded to children who are the poorest of the poor and who have attained an average score on their exams, she immediately thought of 4 of her girls. This former school teacher turned orphan care giver, has many children in her care. And, because of lack of funds, has to make schooling decisions for them based on the natural brightness she sees in each one. She does her very best to bring all of them up to a level of education that will help them to succeed. But these 4? They were different. And they were special. And from an early age she cared enough to notice that these 4 had potential. And hopefully they will get that chance to be catapulted into a brighter, stronger future than anyone could have imagined for them.

There are not many days when Dwaine sends me multiple text messages talking about what an amazing day he's having. Messages like this:
"I'm observing interviews now. Heartbreaking stories of poverty, being orphaned, etc. I'm so glad that we can help so many of these kids".

And then to come home and wish that, just for a few moments, he didn't have to be A Diplomat and that it would be ok for him to just hand out 1,000 shillings to each and every one of the kids he met today. To buy a meal for the Masai boy and his mother who slept under a bush and didn't eat anything for 2 days. To pay the school fees for the boy who has studied by firelight for the past 4 years. To serve as a reference for the 4 orphan girls when it's their turn to move onto college & to have taken over financial care of each of them for the years leading up to adulthood.

Dwaine's work affords him the pleasure of being the one who ultimately determines where millions & millions of US dollars goes. And something tells me that a whole, whole lot of those dollars will be finding their way to some amazing young people living, learning and growing up in the depth of poverty in the heart of Nakuru.

PS~ If you are sitting in an armchair in America somewhere and wondering how you, when faced with a mountain of need & poverty, can possibly make a difference by just pulling out one little pebble from that mountain, I'd like to introduce you to two of Dwaine's other projects. These exceptional organizations, unlike the US government, need & seek out help from people just like you and I. People with a bit of time and a desire to participate in the lives of others in need.

Global Give Back Circle is a one of a kind organization. One of the Clinton Global Initiative projects. Run by a dynamic and passionate woman named Linda Lockhart. It's a mentoring program. Think "Big Sisters of America" except in letter writing. It's long term relationship building with a young woman who has been orphaned but is doing all she possibly can to reach her full potential. My mentee's name is Valentine and I have loved getting to know her over this past year.

The Dignitas Project is an organization which was started up by a young ambitious fellow California woman named Tiffany Cheng. Her website is fantastic and clearly shows her powerful desire to make an impact in the lives of young people through better education. Dignitas is different from many organizations in that their focus is on giving excellent teacher and administrative trainings to ensure that children are getting the very best they can from school.

I spent a day with her in the Mathare slums and wrote about it Here.

Lucky #13

2012-01-05T16:36:00.002+03:00

January 9, 1999
Los Altos, CA

This week we celebrate our 13th year of marriage. What a treasured & amazing journey it's been so far. And if what they say is true, then the best is yet to come.

Dwaine and I met while teaching 4th grade at Gussie M. Baker Elementary School. My teaching partner (good friend and future maid of honor) & I, were on the interview committee that gave Dwaine the thumbs up as a potential third member of our 4th grade team. One of the BEST decisions I've ever been a part of making! (I tried to set him up with her in future weeks...and also with every other single girl I knew, other than myself).

Dwaine had just arrived home from Uganda where he was a Peace Corps volunteer. He moved up to northern CA to pursue this teaching position (as well as one of the 3rd grade teachers who had been a friend of his for several years). Although things weren't meant to be with Dwaine & Ms. 3rd Grade Teacher, they were meant to be with us. (In future months, Ms. 3rd Grade Teacher and I would become housemates & good friends. No love lost there).

We met in January 1998, were engaged in June of that year and married by January 1999. When you know, you know. And there was no doubt in our minds from the very earliest days of doing yard duty & lesson plans together, that we were meant to be partners for life.

One week after our wedding we moved to Massachusetts where Dwaine was mid-way through his first year at UMASS where he'd eventually complete his Masters & Doctorate...and where we'd meet both of our little boys for the first time...and where we would take our final steps off of American soil into the great unknown of international living.

Dwaine Erik Lee. The love of my life, hero of my heart & the one and only face I will forever be looking for in a crowd. 13 years is just the beginning & I can hardly wait to see all that is in store for us in the years to come.

New Year

2011-12-31T21:44:00.000+03:00

New Year's Eve.

It's been New Year's Eve all day long. Which is why I found it surprising that not until 9:00pm on New Year's Eve did it dawn on me that my two boys (7 and 9 years old) have not ever seen the Times Square ball drop. They haven't waited in anticipation for midnight, watched the fireworks from other countries around the world while they waited for our own stroke of midnight to come. Never banged pots and pans together, sung Auld Lang Syne and kissed the pretty girl next to them (for a few more years, let's let that be me).

We were letting the boys stay up a little past bedtime. Not quite until midnight because, really, if there's no ball to watch drop or fireworks to see ~ what's the point of ensuring that we have 2 crabby kids in the morning? So just a bit before 9 we had the conversation about all that we are looking forward to in 2012 (Connor turns 10, Daddy turns 40, another Christmas, starting 4th grade & 3rd grade, and ~ of course ~ welcoming Baby Lee). Dwaine told the boys that in America our families will be staying up late & waiting until midnight to welcome in the New Year.

At 9:00 we turned to CNN and turned off the lights so we could show the boys the spectacular fireworks display in Sydney. We have a projector rather than a traditional TV...the fireworks display in our den was HUGE. They weren't as big of a deal as they are for you, right now, in America. The fireworks from country to country & progressive dropping of the Times Square ball just aren't shown on every (or really any) channel here. So the New Year's Eve feeling was tough to conjure up...but we tried.

Do you know what these expat boys thought of the New Year's display? Nothing. Totally 100% underwhelmed. In fact, they kept pestering us to return to the Cartoon Network show they were watching before we'd started the whole "You know, New Year's Eve is sort of a special holiday all around the world...." conversation.

And this, to me, is just one more indication that I ~ who thinks I know my children & their growing up experience so very, very well ~ may have some surprises in store when I have grown children who are telling me what their memories of growing up were like.

Truth be told, I have never really put a lot of effort into celebrating New Year's Eve. It does happen to fall smack between Christmas, our wedding anniversary & Dwaine's birthday. It sort of gets lost in the shuffle of life events within our home. I sort of 'dropped the ball', so to speak....

Now that they're older, and clearly have limited experience around New Year's festivities, I think I want to make a bigger deal out of it. I'm not sure yet how precisely I'm going to do this without the iconic lighted ball, the countdowns, the fireworks.

I suppose we can count this as my first New Year's resolution of 2012...make New Year's Eve 2013 a little more memorable. A little more creative. A little more sparkly. And you can be sure, I will be the pretty girl next to them who gets the kiss for as many years as possible.

Image from LeSimon Pix

Addendum: I should add that we had been invited to and planned to attend a family party tonight which we couldn't because Dwaine wasn't feeling well. If there is anything that helps to make an expat kid understand and embrace the 'American-ness' of a holiday, it's celebrating it with other Americans. Next year I hope that we can join our friends in welcoming in the New Year.

Nairobbery?

2011-12-30T18:54:00.000+03:00

Nairobi earned it's nickname, "Nairobbery", fair and square. We are constantly hearing accounts of people in the wrong place (outside of their own home) at the wrong time (anytime) being robbed. It happens. You just sort of get used to hearing the RSO telling Mission employees to "use extreme caution". So used to it in fact, that you stop listening...just a little bit.

So, Nairobi has a nickname. But today I found it to be the opposite of it's nickname.

Our family went to Java House for lunch after picking Dwaine up from work. It's a gorgeous December afternoon. Fridays at this post are 1/2 days. (Not because they are slackers. But rather because the work day starts earlier here. Dwaine makes sure to get his work done in a timely manner so that he can take advantage of the early day. He did his due in Macedonia where he'd often hold after office meetings with national politicians that ended at 11:00pm. So just you folks with smart aleky comments who may or may not work 'across the sidewalk' shush up. Half day Fridays. Earned. Appreciated. Enjoyed. Shush.). I digress.

Picked up Dwaine, went to Java House. Where I did what every waitress will demand of customers until they willingly or unwillingly obey, I 'hooked' my purse. All tables have built in hooks beneath them to hang your purse on so that no one walks behind your seat and takes your bag. Nairobbery...remember? So, bag hooked, boys playing on playground, conversation enjoyed, delicious lunch consumed, bill paid.

Bag left on hook. That's one thing to do at Chili's in Somewhere, USA. Entirely another in Nairobbery.

We drove home and pulled into our the driveway at home and my stomach flipped & quickly sunk down to my toes when I reached for my purse at my feet and found it wasn't there. We ripped down the roads to get back through the holiday traffic to reach Java House in order to find my purse (...or not).

Mentally taking inventory of what's in my purse. 2 ipods, Dwaine's brand new Bulova watch he got for Christmas that I'd intended to take to the jeweler for sizing, money, id's, credit cards, embassy badge, Kindle, my nearly filled Zucchini market card (hey! It takes a loooong time to fill up the 10 spaces of 1,000 shillings spent boxes! I've nearly earned a free liter of freshly squeezed juice!) I was sure that, at this busy restaurant, my bag was discovered, cleaned out and then possibly turned in. Nairobbery, remember?

So you can imagine my pleasant surprise when we pulled up at the restaurant, I jumped out and walked in to the restaurant where I saw the manager, who we've known since our first week here. They'd figured out whose bag it was and were busily calling my friends (who, oddly enough, they had the numbers for stored in their own phone) to try to reach someone who could reach me to come get my purse.

My purse, which remained fully stocked with 2 ipods, expensive watch, money, embassy id, credit cards & even my nearly full Zucchini customer card, was not a victim of Nairobbery. I fully expected it to be. Which goes to show, that you can't always assume a nickname is a correct reflection of a place.

Personally, I'd like to go to Paris or Rome to see how their nicknames hold up....The City of Light & The Eternal City. In their cases, I hope the nicknames are true. In Nairobi's, I'm glad it wasn't...at least today.

Traditions (Take 2)

2011-12-23T21:43:00.000+03:00

I think a bit of clarification is in order.

To recap...A pool-side pal and I had a conversation regarding traditions & how the challenge of striving to create a memorable, special & family focused time together can sometimes be overwhelming. It can, sometimes, make us Foreign Service type folks feel guilty (insert word of your own choosing) that we aren't doing more (read, "what our own families did for us").

Not because we don't WANT to. Not because we wouldn't if we could. Not because we've disregarded the need or love of traditions in general. And certainly not because we have forgotten or don't hold dear those simple things that our family has done over the years that make holidays significant in our own special ways.

But rather because we simply cannot. Some we can...others we can't. And that's the part that, for the first time in nearly 10 years of trying to re-create the holidays for my own little branch of the family tree, I've finally been able to say, "That's ok..."

Pool-side pal summed it up beautifully when she said, "Some traditions are for the present, some are for always & some are for this year only". That's the fluidity I'm talking about. And that, for me, is a very freeing thought. Because I have tried (across 2 different states, 3 countries & in a total of 9 different homes over a span of 10 years spent apart from extended family) to force our Christmases to fit the mold of what we both grew up with. And that is exhausting. And, according to my own inner judge, I never seem to get it 'right'.

There are portable parts to the holidays that we can tie into the fabric of our family life. The most important of which, to us, is making certain that our family focuses on the meaning of the holiday. Whether we're talking about Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter or 4th of July...we want to make sure that it's more to them than turkey, presents, Easter eggs or fireworks. There is always a story that goes with it. And as American kids living in a non-American world, it's important that they know the backstory.

And we want them to know that they are loved not only by us, but also by a whole, whole lot of people around the world who are related to them by love or family ties.

Traditions matter. (...I wasn't saying otherwise). I'm simply more aware now than other times, as a globally nomadic mom, that the more loosely I hold onto them the more joyfully we can allow the old ones to shine when able & the new ones to find a welcome place around our tree. And, hopefully, I'm also allowing my own globally nomadic children, a place to add to that which our family chooses as their own traditions.

Traditions

2011-12-21T21:11:00.003+03:00

This afternoon a friend and I lounged by the pool soaking up the equatorial December sunshine while we watched our kids cannonballing into the water. Perhaps it was their white washed little sun screened bodies or perhaps it was the exceptionally non-wintery scene set before us, but somehow our conversation turned toward family traditions.

What kinds of traditions does your family have around the holidays?
What kinds of traditions did you grow up with?
How do you work traditions (which are generally non-portable by nature) into your portable lifestyle?
How many Christmases have you spent away from extended family? (Our answer is 13 years combined)

There is no doubt that this overseas lifestyle has shaped our perspectives on some things. Traditions not withstanding.

The Foreign Service lifestyle makes tradition building as a family challenging. As, I suppose, a military lifestyle would as well. Lots of moving means that you really cannot do anything the same way year after year after year. And this can cause a fair amount of sadness, guilt, nostalgia, melancholy (pick one...or pick them all...) in the heart and mind of a mother who is wanting to give her kids something tangible to hold onto. Something that when someone asks, "What are some of your family traditions around the holidays?" their child isn't scrambling for an answer.

Because really, our kids are never going to be able to say things like, "When I was a kid we'd always go to the same Christmas tree farm and choose and chop down our own tree. We tied it to the top of the car and sang Christmas carols all the way home." We did. They won't. And for the first year ever, that's fine with me.

As pool-side friend and I got to chatting, we realized that reading the Facebook posts from so many friends and families who use the words "traditional" or "annual" in regards to something they've just done, have in the past made us long to be "home". Such as (choose one) Christmas tree chopping down, cookie baking with extended family, annual Christmas concerts, annual Christmas sleigh rides, Christmas light drives...and on and on. But, as we got to chatting, we realized that where we grew up ~ where we visit each year for home leave ~ isn't "home" anymore. And we aren't exactly sure when along the way that happened.

But this year, after many many years of living on the other side of the ocean from our friends and families, we realize that though we miss the people we spent the holidays with, neither of us seems to regret not having long-standing annual traditions.

Here's why. Well, the obvious one is that we can't. Plain and simple. For every new country we'll go to, the weather is different (enjoy sleigh rides one year, boat rides the next), the food items available are different (Christmas turkey...? Maybe, maybe not), the churches are different (Christmas eve candlelight service? Perhaps....). It all depends.

This is the first year that both my pool-side pal and I have felt a flip-side to traditions that we are witnessing on Facebook. For the first time we are seeing that there is a great deal of freedom in not having events that each and every year our children participate in. One day, our kids will grow up and leave the nest. If we have created a large number of family traditions, how is it that they'll be able to not be a participant in them?

If I have photos of them from birth to 25 choosing their Christmas tree together with the family at the same place each year, following the traditional breakfast at the same place we've gone to together since they could say, "Pancake stack with syrup", will it not be hard for them on their 26th year to say, "Hey, Mom & Dad, this year the wife and I are going with her family to get our tree somewhere else."? I want them to have that freedom.

I know this is random and convoluted, but my point is simple really. If there is an expectation (be it ever so warm & fuzzy) that a particular seasonal activity be participated in each and every year by our children, we came to the conclusion that it stops being something fun we like to do as a family and starts to become a way that we contain our children and ensure that we spend future years doing what we like to do as a family. (I've often wondered how some of the families I know with girls who've grown up in homes heavy in traditions, who've gone on to marry & have kids & continue in the yearly traditions, would respond if one day ~ hypothetically speaking, of course ~ the young husband wanted to spend the season with his family...doing what they do. The young wife might be ok with it...but would the parents of said young wife?)

I happen to have boys. The day will probably come when they will marry women who would love nothing more than to spend every Christmas with her family. I might have to *gulp* share them. And pool-side friend (mother of, count 'em, FOUR boys...with a fifth on the way) and I concluded that if we keep our traditions loose and fluid, our children will grow to be men who embrace parts of the season that we've made special in our homes, but will feel the freedom to also create their own family traditions one day. (And, being the mothers of boys that we are, we hope that one day our boys will want to also spend Christmas with us & that said young wife will love us soooo much that she will too).

For today, the small realization that traditions can be made and re-made year after year depending on where we are geographically and in life took off the pressure from my own shoulders to make the holidays~be it Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter or Groundhogs Day~the same from year to year and call it "Tradition".

Freedom in Fluidity. (Slogan courtesy of the poolside venue).

Shake, Rattle & Roll

2011-12-18T07:17:00.003+03:00

This afternoon we went to a movie at the mall. It was all decked out for Christmas and extremely crowded (which helped me to get over my longing for the 'hustle & bustle' of the holidays real quick). But this post isn't about Westgate mall.

We saw this (well, the kids saw it. I think Dwaine & I both napped through a lot of it). But this post isn't about going to the movies.

We parked our car at the top level of the parking structure as opposed to the underground parking. We're safety conscious that way (because everyone knows that if a car bomber wants to take out a building they'll go to the basement. 3 floors up gives us that extra sense of safety, albeit a false sense...we'll take what we can get). This post isn't about parking security. That will & should be another post all it's own.

This post is about our car and the man who drives it.

When we parked our car and left it there, it was fine. When we turned the ignition on it was not fine. In fact it felt like a volcano was about to erupt inside of our car. It felt as if Alvin and the Chipmunks & their friends the Chippettes were rocking out to LMFAO Party Anthem. There was something most seriously wrong. And it had not been wrong when we'd parked our car a couple of hours before.

That's not our car....but we were afraid that between the mall & home, it would be.

Which led the two of us, highly mechanical car aficionados that we are, to the simple conclusion that someone had messed with our car. I purported that someone must have done what we've heard often happens when gas prices rise. They siphoned gas. Then replaced what they took with water or some other wet product that would make our gas gauge look full. In fact, it looked suspiciously too full....we filled up 3 days ago. It shouldn't still be on F, should it?

We rumbled, shook & wobbled about 1/2 way home. But when it seemed like we might possibly not make it home we called the person on our speed dial who would know the answers to our car problems.

Fredrick.

We called our driver. On a Saturday. When he's not supposed to be thinking about us, our car, or which mechanic would be most likely to help us at the last minute. And yet he did.

In fact, he did more than that. We hadn't been home for more than about 30 minutes. (And to be honest, we were *this close* to making the boys get out and push us up that last steep hill into our neighborhood). When ding, dong (we don't actually have a doorbell...that was for theatrical effect). Frederick is at the door. On a Saturday. When we had not asked him to come. He came to look at the engine. Which is good because he actually does know about our car & how it runs.

Do you know what this man brought with him? His own car. Do you know what he left with? Nothing. He came to our home, on a Saturday, to deliver his car to us, & take a matatu home. And do you know what happened 15 minutes after he left? It started to rain...African rain. Totally it's own species of downpour. So somewhere between being a good Samaritan & arriving home, Frederick was caught in a storm.

I don't know what's going to happen with our car. I'm sure it will get fixed. But I do know what's going to happen with Fredrick. He's going to get a nice fat tip on Monday when he gets to work.

There have been many quiet days in our life when I've wondered why we need to employ a driver. But I see now that over the 2 and a half years that we've lived here & spent 5 days a week being shuttled around by Fredrick, a friendship of sorts has been built. We did not ask him to come help us. We did not ask if we could borrow his car. And we did not ask if he'd come back tomorrow, on a Sunday, to get our ailing car to the garage for us. He offered. And I am grateful to have someone like Fredrick looking out for us a little bit.

PS~ 2 Days Later~ It seems that the trouble was far more simple than we'd thought. One of the spark plugs had somehow gotten water on it & malfunctioned. No gas siphoning conspiracy. No engine explosions. And no dancing Chipmunks in the inner workings of the car. Simple spark plug. Grateful & a wee embarrassed that it was such a tiny thing.

There's My Girl...

2011-12-16T20:33:00.000+03:00

Introducing Little Lady Lee. 25 weeks of tiny sweetness.

Or, as Dwaine has dubbed her based on her first profile shot, "Turtle".

Outrageous Olfactory Powers

2011-12-16T18:01:00.000+03:00

Someone near me is wearing the Clinique fragrance "Happy". And by 'near me', I mean someone within this large, outdoor restaurant where the "nearest" person is about 30 feet from me...the nearest woman about 40 feet.

I think I'm bionic. Or that I have a super power and may one day single handedly save the world with my amazing sense of smell. All-Powerful Olfactoress, could be my super power name.

I'm about 6 and 1/2 months pregnant. And in the past month I've seen a spike in my smell abilities. Did you change your socks, my son? I can tell. I walk past a room (not even into it) and tell precisely what mixed drink Dwaine may be enjoying while watching the news. Have fried eggs for breakfast? I knew it at the word, "Hello".

This is sort of fun in some ways. I mean, don't you put on perfume or cologne each day in order for it to be appreciated by others? And Clinique "Happy"...such a nice smell. Not to mention from someone sitting so far from you that you can't identify who it is you caught a whiff of. But it's also a Super Power I wish I could turn off.

I smell people smells. And sometimes it's gross. I know if you haven't washed your hair in a couple of days. I know if that sweater should be washed. And in a crowded market, I can't stand in the line of a certain check out clerk because it makes my eyes water to wait my turn. And there is very good reason why I don't encourage bean eating in my home, if you know what I mean.

This too is temporary. But if for a time you find me standing down wind from you, don't take offense. My olfactory powers won't last forever. But our friendship might if I choose not to mention that you should consider a new, more fragrant, laundry detergent.

Thoughtfulness

2011-12-15T20:25:00.002+03:00

Sometimes it's the smallest things that mean the most.

A couple of weeks ago I got an email from a friend I've yet to meet. Becky, aka Small Bits, is someone I only know through reading one another's blog & commenting on the occasional Facebook posts. But meeting someone face to face is not necessary in the Foreign Service bloggy world in order to consider them a friend. I thought her email was one of the most thoughtful, kind spirited gestures that someone who I do not know (and therefore is not 'contractually bound' to be nice) could have done for me. And to her it was probably just a 'little something'.

When Becky found out that I'm having a baby girl, she did a little digging around and found our Baby Registry. I hadn't made it public that we have one, so she had to poke around a bit. She tried to buy and send something from it for us but ran into a snag along the way. Not to be daunted by a snag, she sent a gift card and warm wishes in place of a particular item. A stranger, essentially, out of the blue, sent me a present. And I found that very touching.

So I picked something off the registry right away. And today it arrived. The first baby toy for our little girl. And when I see it and play together with Anna, I'll remember how an unexpected gift from someone can really mean a lot. And, in following Becky's example, I hope to 'Pay it Forward' myself and in so doing, will help to make someone else's day.

What is it that arrived in the mail today, you ask? This.... isn't it cute? Thanks, Becky!

Home Alone

2011-12-13T21:51:00.001+03:00

Tonight we watched that iconic Christmas movie of our generation.

It was the first time the boys had seen it so they were dutifully impressed by each and every trick that little Kevin used to outwit the bad guys.

It was the first time I had viewed the movie through the eyes of a Mommy & I was astounded that a parent could get all the way to Paris and leave her EIGHT YEAR OLD at home alone. I'm not ashamed to admit to you that I was being my most judgemental self whenever the Mom came onto the scene. I know it's just a movie. But really? You ride in 1st Class while your kids are all in coach? WHO is having to supervise them? I'll tell you who...some Foreign Service family who isn't going to spring for the difference between Economy Comfort and 1st Class.

I have a near 8 year old. I know this was just a movie. But seriously, leaving Erik home for 3 days on accident? How sad is that? When it was over I hugged both the boys tight (who were still wiping the tears caused by heavy belly laughing from their eyes) and promised them that I would never go on a Christmas trip to Paris and leave them behind. Mombasa? Maybe.

But I also learned something from Erik while watching this movie together. In the movie the little boy is afraid of the furnace in the basement. Making this already super creepy part of the house an area he doesn't like to go. Erik confessed to me that there's a room in our house he doesn't like to go into either. It's a walk in closet off of one of the guest rooms that we use as a linen closet. It's a bright sunny little room because of a nice window in there. Since we've ~~never~~ rarely locked him in it, I was curious what on earth could be scary to him about this room. Surely by now he's figured out that's where I've hidden all of our unwrapped Christmas gifts...

What is it that creeps him out about this sunny little room? A painting that was given to us as a gift hangs on the wall in there. (You KNOW if it's a painting that hangs in a seldom used linen room that it comes from someone so special to us that I would of course remember their name....which is....hold on, it'll come to me). Not a special painting to us. But it's art, and we have lots of white wall space. So it hangs.

And it's an old lady who gives Erik the absolute creeps. Who is it?

Which would explain his outright refusal to fold and put away towels. Well, perhaps not. But it did mean I needed to explain not only that he'd never be left alone when we go on a family vacation, but also that this 'creepy picture' is of a woman known particularly well for immense love & care of children.

Nope. Didn't mean a thing. He'd just like us to put the painting away, please. Ok, can do.

So much gleaned from a family movie night.

*Mother Teresa...not a portrait that many people have hanging in their home. Recall that we recently lived in Macedonia, native country of Mother Teresa. It was a gift from a mayor and friend of Dwaine's.*

Outsmarting the Advent Calendar

2011-12-06T17:42:00.000+03:00

My mom is one of the most creative women I know. (She's asked me to not write about her on my blog though. So from here on out she'll be referred to as "Grandma Brown" to protect her identity...).

Grandma Brown has begun one of the few Christmas traditions that has 'stuck' over the years. When the boys were small (1 and 3) she made them their own Advent Calendars. They look sort of like this (but sooo much cuter).

Each year she loads 48 little squares (2 boys, 24 days of Advent) with treasures for the boys. And this has made December the one and only month when I do not have to wake the boys up for school or nag them to get dressed or make their beds. They know what's got to take place before they can open their gifts. And if we'd let them, they'd be up with the sun to find out what's in the pocket of the day.

This year, the boys are older and wiser than last year. They've outsmarted the system. Or perhaps they just took advantage of their forgetful mom.

I made a mistake this year. This year, I had the inkling to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving had officially come and gone (boo & hiss if you like, it made me happy). But even I had to draw the line somewhere. No stockings. No Advent Calendars. So when that box came out of storage I quickly hid the Advent Calendars. Somewhere. Somewhere really, really good. In fact, December 1st came and I hadn't found my hiding place yet.

So I had to figure out what to do until I found the Advent Calendars from Grandma Brown. She had sent all of the gifts for the boys weeks ago. (As an aside, Erik started SOBBING when he saw his bag of treasures~wrapped in a See's Candy bag ~ side by side Connor's ~wrapped in a Lego store bag. His conclusion, of course was that Connor got Legos and he only had candy to look forward to. He's since learned about 'reduce, REUSE, recycle'.). I have all of the little pocket treasures in 2 baskets that we remove one gift from per day. I thought this was the perfect solution until I locate the run away Advents.

Except for one thing. The boys know what the Lego mini-figures look like when wrapped. They know what the pencils look like, the candies look like, the sticker sets look like. These boys do not have to touch, shake or feel a single mini-package in order to know what's in them. And, being competitive, they make sure that they both have the same 3 inch by 2 inch rectangular package to open each morning at breakfast...just to be fair.

Next week the Lego mini figures are sure to run out. And I think we'll be moving on to sticker sets. By then the Advent Calendars should be in their rightful place on either side of the fireplace. And then it's Mommy Rules which is far more randomized.

Wish me luck in finding the calendars. I'm heading out to the garage to look through storage boxes. There's no telling what I might find out there....

The Element of Surprise

2011-12-04T06:43:00.004+03:00

Christmas is coming. And along with it lots and lots and LOTS of boxes are also coming.

We love Christmas! We love to prepare for it. We love to decorate for it. We love to tell the wonderful story of the very first Christmas. And we love to daydream about what could possibly be in all of those boxes that arrive en masse from the DPO at the embassy.

Sometimes however, day dreaming isn't at all necessary. Sometimes it's perfectly clear what's in that box and you don't even have to shake it in order to guess. Sometimes there are are 'peep holes' all over the whole thing.....

Over the years, Dwaine and I have found it more and more challenging to surprise one another during the Christmas season. And to be honest, it's pretty difficult for far away family to pull off surprises either. Not for lack of trying! But because we have most of our wishes conveniently stored on Amazon.com the majority of gifts come courtesy of the box with a smile.

This is a Customs Slip....we don't actually fill this exact form out. But one like it with all of the same information. It's the gov't....there's a lot of different forms that serve the same purpose.

And each and every smiley faced box has one of these....

See the part where it says "Detailed description of contents"? During Christmas that is where you do NOT want to read anything specific such as "Brand new set of GINSU KNIVES". And yet, that's exactly what you do read. A very specific description of precisely what is in that big box of surprises.

So? Don't read the label, you say? Sure. But how do you know who it's for? Or who it's from? Or better yet, if it's that surprise that you ordered for someone else? It's a tricky little game to be the one picking up the packages from the post office.

I fell for an Amazon box trick this week that made me stomp my feet & curse Amazon. A box had arrived and under contents it listed 'Shoe Items'. Again, thinking it was likely the Crocs for the boys, I opened it. Safe, right?

WRONG!

It's this item from my wish list.

What is it?, you ask. It's a Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag, of course. It's nothing like the clunky Land's End bag I carried with the boys....it's a little more grown up. Like me. And it's most certainly NOT a pair of shoes as was advertised on the Amazon box.

So, after all these years of shopping on-line for gifts we've yet to outsmart the packing labels, the sturdiness of the boxes itself, or the "To" section of the shipping label.

So I had a brilliant idea. I ordered several of Dwaine's gifts from on-line stores that are NOT as obvious as Amazon. What do you think? Will he guess what's in this package?

Happy Christmas season to you. Enjoy your hustling and bustling through the malls & coming home to hide the treasures you find. I hope there are many, many surprises for you this year.

And, truth be told, although I may bemoan the fact that the element of surprise is a little hard to come by with our method of Christmas shopping, I'm still extremely grateful that we live at a post with not only the Diplomatic Post Office (DPO) as well as 'The Pouch'. There are posts (and we will one day live at one) where packages are difficult to get and to send.

I'm grateful. I'm just not surprised.

SMS

2011-11-28T20:05:00.001+03:00

This morning I got a text message from my housekeeper while I was at work.

"Hi, Madam. I don't know what to say but I'm very much sorry I broke your glass coffee pot accidentally. Have mercy. I beg."

Have mercy??

I beg??

What the heck? For a broken coffee pot? Yes, I was annoyed. It's our 2nd coffee pot in the span of a year. It's inconvenient to replace what with ordering on Amazon and awaiting their arrival at our DPO. It's not exactly like popping down to Target and just picking one up for tomorrow morning's pot of coffee.

But begging for mercy? What did she expect me to do? Pull out the rubber hoses for a beat down?

No. She thought she might get fired.

My housekeeper, who does more in an 8 hour day than I can seem to get done in an entire weekend. My housekeeper, the one other woman in this world who regularly folds my underwear & willingly scours the bathroom of boys with less than perfect aim, spent her day afraid that when I got home I would fire her.

And so, when I got home, we had a conversation. I hope that at the end of our chat she knew that I was far more concerned about the fall she took (which resulted in a broken coffee pot). That, although it's inconvenient & frustrating when things get broken, it's certainly not basis for firing her. She is more valuable than a $20 coffee pot.

But 'begging for mercy'? Let's just not have anymore of that, please.

Baby Names

2011-11-24T11:13:00.002+03:00

We've had a little girl's name picked out for Little Lady Lee for nearly 10 years. Ever since we found out we were expecting our first baby...who turned out to be our sweet Connor & right into the time we found out we were expecting our second baby...who turned out to be our spunky Erik. And so, I've had my 'Girl Name' on the shelf for a number of years. And it was mutually decided early on that Dwaine would have final say with 'Boy Names' and I'd have final say in the girl department. Dwaine exercised his final say when he reversed Connor's name 2 days after he was born. Connor was called Erik for his first 2 days of life....but it just didn't 'feel right. And so, he is Connor. Because Daddy said so. And that's fine by me. Their names perfectly suit them.

I'm not shy. I'm happy to tell you what this little girl's name is likely to be.

This little lady will be named not only for the 2 women who have surrounded both Dwaine and I with love, protection, prayer & lots of laughter (our 2 mothers), but also for several of the women in my family tree. Her first name will be Anna. In honor of my mom (Anne Kelly Wirth Brown) and my mother-in-law (Joanne) and my grandmother (Anne Rose Kelly Wirth) and my dear Aunts (Lee Anne Wirth as well as Ute Anna Klara Wirth...incredible women). There's a lot of Annes in our lives.

Anna. Meaning "gracious".

Katherine. There isn't a single Katherine in our family tree that I've ever known personally. But Katherine has the same meaning as my middle name, which is Karina. Meaning "Pure". And comes with an adorable nickname.

Anna Kate. Annie K (mom's nickname growing up).

And one more name. We only have one girl coming. We have a looooong list of names that have meaning to us and only one child on which to bestow them. This little girl will have 2 middle names. Her second middle name will come from Dwaine's grandma who lived a long life that touched a lot of others in wonderful ways. Elinor. Meaning "Bringer of Light".

Anna Katherine Elinor Lee.

Gracious, Pure, Bringer of Light.

Now won't you all be surprised if we pull a fast one and change to some other random name? Which is not likely...unless of course we go back to the list of names the boy's gave us in the beginning. Which would mean this little girl would be named Blackbeard. We'll keep you posted should that be the case.

Besides, when we added an Anna to our family the initials of our family will become D=Dwaine, N=Naoma, C=Connor, E=Erik, A=Anna. Or if you rearrange them...DANCE. I like that.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-21T20:28:00.000+03:00

It's Thanksgiving this week. And I am infinitely thankful for the abundantly overflowing proverbial basket full of blessings that have been given to me this past year. If I were going to categorize this year in literary terms I would most definitely place it squarely in the Tale of Two Cities category...

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us..." ~Charles Dickens

Which is just a robust way of saying, this year has shown our family it's lowest lows & highest highs. And I am so grateful that as this Thanksgiving & Christmas season comes around again that we can say that we are whole-heartedly enjoying 'the season of Light' and the 'spring of hope'.

And that makes for a sweet, sweet season indeed.

Happy Thanksgiving week, everyone. I miss sitting around the table with those of you with whom I've shared it before. And I am thinking of you with fondness and gratefulness this week.

Shut Up, Rick

2011-11-09T19:42:00.003+03:00

Sometimes someone comes along and seems to put voice to my exact thoughts on a matter in a much more eloquent way than I ever could. Read what I'm talking about HERE. Let me start by saying that I am a far-cry from what you'd call a 'hard core Democrat'. I tend toward the Republican side of most voting ballots. But I try to be open minded.

I, like most Foreign Service family members, live in a strange limbo land. Far removed geographically from the buzz & hum of US politics, yet close to it on a daily basis in that my husband & our friends personally oversee the implementation of decisions made 'On The Hill' (regardless of the way in which they themselves may have voted). Far away, yet closer than most who cast their votes on election day.

Being far removed as I am, it takes something important to get my attention. Rick Perry & his recent flippant comments about the Foreign Service diplomats may not have grabbed your attention. But it sure has captured the attention of a lot of Foreign Service diplomats. And not at all in a positive way.

It goes against 'The Code' for a Foreign Service Officer to speak out against a political figure. But, I'm not a FSO...I'm merely married to one. (This is when being 'just an EFM' comes in handy...). There's another FS spouse out there who has said most eloquently & pointedly what it is that is so bothersome about Mr. Rick Perry's flippant comment regarding FS diplomats.

Go read it. She speaks for a whole, whole lot of us. But if my words haven't swayed you to click the links included here, maybe a snippet from her short piece will...

"Here's the way it works, Mr. Perry, since you're clearly not too familiar with how the Foreign Service operates. The U.S. Department of State looks for the smartest people it can find, and then, if it can interest them in a low-paying, lonely and dangerous job, somewhere in the far reaches of the globe, it hires them."

I would add that not only does the U.S. Dept of State look for the smartest people it can find, it also gets them. Hires them. Trains them. Sets high expectations for them. And for the most part, they meet and excede these expectations.

And, as was pointed out by Donna a Email From the Embassy, should Mr. Perry actually win this race, one of the highest expectations set for FSO is that they will have to overlook the disregard their (possible) President has for them and work under him anyway. That, as you can understand, would be a real challenge.

Kitchen Table Conversation

2011-11-08T14:28:00.003+03:00

Connor will be getting a cell phone for Christmas. He has never asked for one. I'm not a believer in young kids having cell phones, per se. But after THIS conversation took place, I'm looking for the easiest to manage phone for a kid with the best coverage possible.

Dwaine: So, I understand the school has started talking with you about what to do if things get dangerous while you're at school....

Connor: (animatedly) Oh, yeah!!! We picked out hiding places today! If bad guys come to the school we're all supposed to hide very, very quietly. Then they won't see us. Then we'll be safe. And after they go, we can all come out again.

He then proceeded to tell me where his secret hiding place is. And Erik did as well. But you can be darned sure I'm not going to tell you where those secret campus hiding spots are. Because, in case of real emergency, that secret spot could be what makes all the difference. And when he & his brother get out of their secret spots, I want to hear their voices right away. Thus, an unrequested Nokia will be under our tree this year preprogrammed with all of the most important numbers.

These are the kinds of kitchen table conversations that stun me and then keep me awake at night. This isn't at all like Duck & Cover exercises. It's like practicing for when your worst nightmare comes true...even though it probably never, ever will.

And it breaks my Mommy-heart to smile and give a thumbs up to 'the best hiding place EVER' while simultaneoulsy thinking, 'What the hell are we doing here? What mental scars are we searing onto the hearts of these boys? Why haven't we left yet...?'

Hiding from the Bad Guys. It just stinks that we must teach this to children. I find myself reading Psalm 23 a lot lately.

Duck & Cover

2011-11-04T21:27:00.002+03:00

I grew up in California. Earthquake country. We had lots & lots of earthquake drills at the elementary school I attended. I was a pro at "Duck & Cover". The loud, wailing sound of the HIGH, low, HIGH, low alarm would begin and before the teacher could clap 3 times, we'd all be appropriately ducked and covered under our desks. The heavy light blocking curtains on both sides of the room would be drawn closed & doors and windows shut. George C. Payne Elementary School was now officially ready for an earthquake. All terribly exciting and terribly scary at the same time.

My boys don't live in an earthquake prone area. But they do live in a terrorist prone area. And because terrorist threats are about as difficult to predict as an earthquake, our school practices for them. I know this because I got a letter today.

"Over the next few weeks, we will be placing an emphasis on informing your student on how to be safe at school. We will be conducting lockdown drills and facilitating discussions over terrorism awareness. We hope by having practicing drills and discussing current issues now, they will feel safe at school and know there are people here whom they can talk to. You have a special part in this process as well. When your student gets home and they talk about some of the drills and topics that were brought up at school, please engage with them and find out how they are feeling. You may also want to take this time to set some family safety rules or boundaries for your own peace of mind at home."

I'm happy the school is emphasizing safety. I'm glad they're taking these threats seriously. I'm glad that my kids will be reminded of the importance of being vigilant in the area of safety. I do however wish that the letter I copied above had actually come to ME. It was sent to me via a friend as in, "Can you believe this? A sure sign we live in Kenya...!" But to me, it's a sign that not all of the links in the communication ring are connected if I did not get this email also.

So, excuse me for a moment. I need to call the school to make sure they know how to reach me if ever the heading of an email should read: "We regret to inform you that guerrillas have stormed the school and taken up command in the 2nd and 3rd grade classooms".

Its....a....

2011-10-28T21:28:00.000+03:00

As you know, I'm expecting Baby Lee #3 in March. Today we found out if the boys will have a little brother or sister. Care to venture a guess as to what we found out at the ultrasound appointment?

Let me give you a few hints to help you out a little bit.....

Today we found out that we are expecting a baby girl. And we could not be happier about adding dash of PINK to our house of BLUE.

P.P.P.W.A.C.O.T?

2011-10-25T21:04:00.002+03:00

Erik is 7. 7 is a quirky age. I *adore* 7...it's one of my favorite ages.

Erik has started spelling a lot. Out of the blue, "Mom, I know how to spell SHARK...s-h-a-r-k."
Often when I ask how his day was, he'll spell it out for me. Literally.

"G-o-o-d. I h-a-d l-i-b-r-a-r-y a-n-d m-u-s-i-c. I p-l-a-y-e-d w-i-t-h t-h-e n-e-w b-o-y a-t s-n-a-c-k r-e-c-e-s-s."

The teacher in me loves it. The mommy who wants to actually communicate with her children finds the spelling aloud of one's thoughts a bit t-e-d-i-o-u-s.

But even Erik, sweet, quirky, endearing little Erik, has begun to find the spelling out of his thoughts to be burdensome. So he's begun abbreviating. This week we were at the beach and he wanted to visit the ice cream bar before dinner. So he emphasized his question with the childhood expletive "Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?" but couldn't bear to spell it all out. P.P.P.W.A.C.O.T?

Which tickled my funny bone. So I answered, "W-h-y N-o-t? L.I.S,.E.D.F." (Life is short, eat dessert first). And so we did...

Y-U-M!

First Gifts

2011-10-15T13:52:00.001+03:00

If you don't have a Dutch friend, you need one.

I've met some great Dutch friends while living overseas. If broad sweeping generalizations of a people group could be made based on the few Dutch friends I've made, then I can safely say that the Dutch are a happy, child loving, outdoorsy folk who always know how to have a good time. Not to mention that Dutch women are effortlessly stylish & beautiful (when I told my friend Karen that she told me that I "haven't met all the women in Holland yet..."). And one of these Dutch friends has given me my very first baby gift.

(This picture is the closest I can find of the sweet onesies she gave me and it's not nearly close enough in adorableness. The ones I was given have colorful pictures of typical "Dutch" items on them...a house, a little boy & girl, etc.)

Another reason that you need a Dutch friend in your life is that they have access to Hema department stores where these tiny tees are from. (Click on the Hema link....you won't be sorry. One of the most creative websites for a store!) I'm seriously considering learning Dutch simply so that I can shop more easily on the website!

On another note, I'm finding that one of the perks to having a last baby a bit *ahem* 'later in life', is that we have given away all of our baby clothes. We have to buy everything 'baby' all over again...crib, rocking chair, stroller, various baby equipment...bouncy this & swingy that, as well as all of the clothes this little one will need. And the best part? We AREN'T starving students this time around! We aren't wondering where we'll end up in life once we've completed degrees/advanced degrees/trainings...blah, blah, blah. We're there. We're living the life that was the eventual goal. And with that comes a sense of peacefulness & contentment. Which, presumably means, the welcoming of this baby into our home will be equally peaceful.

Another perk of being at this point of life rather than striving toward it is that we can afford to outfit this little person in their own set of baby do-dads without digging deep into the drawer of hand-me-downs. And I'm finding myself partial to a Dutch website....

Christmas Shopping

2011-10-09T23:20:00.001+03:00

I love preparing for Christmas. More specifically, I love living in far flung corners of the world and preparing gifts to send home to family at Christmas-time. And, being that I live in a far flung corner of the world, my preparations start early. In fact, I have the main gifts for my sisters-in-law & Mom already purchased and waiting to be boxed up and shipped. It's not that I'm so ahead of the season. It's that shipping these precious parcels is a pain in the neck (our Post Office guys work hard here. The computers on which we pay for shipping & print labels do not always work as hard as the staff who oversee them).

Bottom line. If Santa's elves in Kenya (me) are going to get their treasures delivered by Christmas Eve/Day (depending on Southern or Northern CA traditions) then the process must begin by early October.

I love thinking about what to give these special people in my life. I love choosing the items. I love to give hand made treasures from wherever I live in the world that I think these people will enjoy as much as I do myself.

In previous years these gifts have been.... (NOT showing you this year's gifts. Can't ruin any surprises....).

At this moment, I have no fewer than 8 pairs of these in my closet. When the day comes for us to leave Kenya, I'll be buying an all new lifetime supply of these sandals.

Kikoy fabric is gorgeous! I use it for everything from table cloths to beach towels.

Coffee....OF COURSE! But not any coffee. I have met a Kenyan woman who makes the best coffee I've had yet in Kenya. And, as her slogan states, "Every bean a story...". Check out her website here. (Ooops! Surprise buster! THIS will be in everyone's stocking this year).

Hand blown glasses like this from Kitengela Glass. (Except totally different because 1) they're made in Kenya. Which means no two are alike in exact shape or color 2) they're shipped from Kenya. Which means they don't always arrive in one piece. I won't be sending glass again.

Hand woven sisal bags from Charles' Bags. The purses are nice, but I'm partial to the wine bags with beaded handles.

Recycled plastic grocery bag crocheted tote. Like this but totally not like this (those aren't Kenyan grocery bag colors).

Banana Fiber Nativity Scene

Kazuri Beads....necklaces, bracelets, earrings....Certainly lovely & unique works of art.

Bottle Cap bags (Coke, Fanta, Tusker Beer & Sprite). Each a conversation piece on their own.

Acacia wood salad & serving bowls. Beautiful & useful! Love these. I should buy one for myself one day!

Soapstone carved Christmas ornaments.

That's a short photo tour of some of the gifts that have ended up under the Christmas trees of those I hold dear. And here is my question for you. (There's a prize at the end....). What is your favorite gift to give? If you live (have lived) overseas, what unique gifts have you enjoyed giving to special people?

Here's the prize. Because it's October and I'm getting my Christmas shopping done, I'd like to put you on my gift list this year. For the first 2 folks to answer my question, I'd like to send you one of my favorite Christmas gifts. (The hitch, of course, is that it will be a smaller version of any of the above items. I like you and all, but it's got to fit into a Priority Mail Envelope). Another hitch is that my friends who live right here with me in Kenya can tell me all about the great gifts they like to give...but I won't be sending you a gift. I'll take you shopping with me though to all of my favorite vendors who sell these treasures.

So? Let's hear it. What gift giving pleasures do you have? Are you from a far flung corner of the world with it's own set of treasures to put into loved one's stockings this year?

Visitor

2011-09-30T19:58:00.000+03:00

I don't want you all to be jealous. But I know you will be. I'm anticipating a special visitor. And, chances are, if you're a FS bloggy type you know her too.

Cyberbones (also known as Shannon) has accepted the invitation that Alexandra & I offered via a Facebook conversation. And we could not be more thrilled! But we'll have to wait awhile. We couldn't get our calendars & school schedules to coordinate until mid-November. Which I see as just more time to plan what we'll be doing. You know what touristy thing we will not be doing? Going on any safaris. The woman is posted in Malawi. She's seen the Big 5 (not to mention the Little Zillion...critters, that is). But she hasn't seen quality cafes in some time. And those? I can find with my eyes closed.

I am looking forward to putting a face to this bloggy friendship and making our big Foreign Service world feel just a little bit smaller.

Between Alexandra & I we have plenty of bedrooms to host many more of you. Anyone interested in a Girl's Get-Away to Nairobi?

Too much blood?

2011-09-21T17:29:00.002+03:00

Have you ever heard of a blood drive being cancelled because there is already too much blood?

Neither have I.

So I was especially surprised when the Blood Drive being planned by the US Embassy which was meant to aid the hundreds of people severly hurt in a recent oil explosion, was cancelled.

In fact, I was a wee bit disappointed. I mean where else in the world are a thousand or so Americans not excluded from offering up their malaria tainted blood for the betterment of mankind? In the US we are automatically ineligible based upon all of the tropical diseases we've been exposed to. Here? So has everyone else who is in need of blood. So the list of would be blood donators was long. And on that list I felt a little bit like a rock star. You see...I happen to be O-. I know, I know. It's a treasure.

Then we got the message that the Blood Drive was cancelled. Why? Are we expecting an embassy bombing? Are we being evacuated? Has sugar suddenly been found at the local Nakumatt and we are all expected to go buy it all up? What other purpose would supercede the highly important desperate need for blood?

They have too much.

The hospitals have asked that no more generous blood givers offer up any more of their blood. They simply cannot use that which they already have either here or in other parts of the country with great needs. And this got me to thinking. I cannot recall a time when I've ever heard the Red Cross tell Americans, "Go away with your precious plateletts! We simply have been overrun with the stuff!"

And that is where Kenya (and Kenyans) have got us beat. As a nation on the whole, they are givers. When a need comes up within a community, within a church, within the family there is a massive surge of giving from those who can (and even from those who really can't). Not to say this never happens in the States. I know that when catastrophe strikes, we all bind together as well and deliberately give what we are able. But Kenyans seem to have an extra special knack for taking care of others. And this blood drive cancellation impressed me for that very reason. By the way, they've also been inundated with blankets & food staples. So just hold onto your goodness for the next catastrophe. This one is all taken care of.

It's probably good for my O- self that it was cancelled. I've heard that as a pregnant woman I'm not supposed to give blood. But being the rock star blood type that I am & being refused so often because of the tropical nature of my white & red little blood cells, I just don't think I could have helped myself from trying to sneak into the Blood Drive tent. Good thing there are so many generous Kenyans out there who could take my place...this time.

Perspective

2011-09-09T15:52:00.000+03:00

I am home from my 4 day medevac trip to Pretoria. I went with a suitcase of clothes and an inner carry-on of concerns. I've come home with a much fuller suitcase and a far lighter carry-on. I came away with a different perspective in many areas than I was expecting when I left and am grateful for the new views.

"Home is where the heart is...":
I went to Pretoria wanting to LOVE it. I went there hoping to find a place to lay down roots for 3 months of medevac while I have this baby. Knowing the boys will come with me, my parents would come out to help & Dwaine would come as frequently as possible, I was hoping and & expecting to find the perfect furnished cottage for us to live in. I did, thanks to the lead of a friend. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't see myself living in Pretoria for 3 months. It didn't feel like home. I really, really wanted it to. It would be so much more convenient in a lot of ways. But my home is here with Dwaine (which isn't a viable baby delivery option) or it's in California. So, California wins. "California, here we come...right back where we started from...".

"Age before beauty..."
I went to Pretoria more than a little shy about my age. I never expected to have crossed the line into 40 and shortly thereafter to find out that I'm expecting. Life is funny that way. And being "advanced in age" brings it's own set of concerns and anxieties I've never faced when pregnant with my other two. It also brings with it the sense that all doctors view my age as a disease in and of itself. But it was in the waiting room at my first doctor's appointment in Pretoria that God offered me a new perspective. I sat alone, mentally himming & hawing about how on earth I was going to start this stage of life all over again. And where will I find the energy? And am I ready for playgroups & potty training all over again? When in the door walks a woman about my age and her teenaged daughter. In conversation I'd come to find out that the 16 year old young woman is pregnant with twins. And that was a dose of reality and an opportunity for thanksgiving for me. While she is now happy about having these babies, there was a fair amount of angst and deep concern for her family regarding how these babies were taking her life in a completely different direction than what she'd dreamt for herself. I'm grateful that, in our family's case, this baby is a welcome surprise. My age, in my perspective, is an advantage. And that perspective switch was most welcome.

"Alone but not lonely..."
That familiar phrase is, in my books, a bunch of malarkey. I'm married for a reason. I like being together with my husband. I thoroughly enjoy time spent with my family. Though I've often gone on girl's weekends away, I haven't spent a great deal of time alone in a new and unfamiliar country apart from my family or friends. And I found that alone, for me, was lonely. That sleeping in & spending my down time as I saw fit was pleasant but I was ready to see it come to an end. I like being married to Dwaine. I like being a mommy to Connor and Erik. And I most enjoy being a part of this family when I am together with them. 4 days without hugs, kisses & face to face conversation was too long for me.

"Kenya has just never felt like home..."
That's what I've said now and again throughout our pas two years here. When we returned at the end of our summer Home Leave, I determined not to say it anymore as it closed my mind and heart from being open to the possibility that Kenya could feel like home. But it wasn't until I got off the airplane and made my way through Jomo Kenyatta Airport (bastion of chaos, confusion & far too little air conditioning that it is) that I felt glad to be "home". Stepping out onto the sidewalk in the cool evening to meet my taxi and winding our way through the dark nighttime traffic didn't feel as annoying as it usually does. It felt like home. And I knew at the end of the ubiquitous city traffic I would reach our own quiet compound where the lights would be on and my family would be waiting for me. No matter where I am, if they are there, that is home.

Heading to Pretoria

2011-09-03T16:48:00.002+03:00

On Monday I'm going to Pretoria, South Africa. Sunday is my birthday. (I, for all future birthdays, will continue to have no more than 35 candles on the top of my cake. Regardless). Tuesday is my mother's birthday. Tuesday & Wednesday I'll see pictures of our baby. I take it as a good sign that baby tests and ultrasound coincide with my amazing mother's birthday.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. It's going to be a big week.

I'm nervous about this trip. I'm nervous to make this trip completely on my own. The details of the trip are many & the surroundings completely unfamiliar. Will I find the Forex quickly to exchange money? Will my bank card work (frequently blocked due to "fraud alert" and the fact that our bank can't consistently remember that we live overseas. And at inopportune times & without warning our card will be blocked and rendered useless). Will I find the things I'm hoping to stock up on at the malls there (can't imagine I wouldn't! South Africa seems like a cleaner, shinier version of America). Is Pretoria a place where the boys & I can live for 3 months while waiting for this chick to hatch? Will I be able to find my way to my appointments and be on time?

The appointments.

I'm nervous about the appointments. I've been holding my breath and reserving my joy about this pregnancy until after these appointments. Baby Lee is 12 weeks. Mommy is (to be entirely honest) a tad beyond the 35 candles that will be on her birthday cake this week and from here on after. And with those extra candles come extra concerns. And these 2 appointments are meant to discover if there are reasons for concern. One of the tests scheduled is CVS (chorionic villus sampling) which will test for:

Down's Syndrome
Spina Bifida
Trisomy 13 & 18
Turner Syndrome
Klinefelter Syndrome
Cystic fibrosis
Tay-Sachs Disease
Sickle Cell disease
Neural tube defects

I don't know what most of those diseases are. I'm purposely not doing research to find out. Because truthfully, I don't want to know the details unless I need to.

CVS & the ultrasound will also reveal if Baby Lee will need....

Blue Booties or....

Pink Booties

And will also let us know if we need to stock up on things like these....

In all likelihood, there will be no genetic disorders. There will be no rare diseases. There will be no twins. In all likelihood, I will see an ultrasound of a little person who is about this size

And in all likelihood I am nervous for nothing.

What I am praying about as I think over this trip is that, if in the slimmest of likelihoods all is not well, I'll have the grace to accept it and resoluteness to stand strong.

And, in the grand scheme of things, should the slimmest of likelihoods mean that my little plum is not perfect I am hoping that I will view all that will come as a gift from a God who loves me & loves this little one.

I foresee breathing a deep sigh of relief on September 9th when all of these appointments are over & I am home again with my boys, my Honey & my little plum.

Telling The Boys

2011-08-28T14:54:00.000+03:00

I don't know why we've waited so long to tell the boys that they're going to be big brothers. I suppose I wanted to make it through the 1st trimester to make sure everything was going to be ok. I suppose I didn't want them taking the big news to school friends before I was ready to tell they're little friends' mothers (who, are of course, also friends of mine).

But now we've pretty much told everyone. Slowly telling circles of family, close circles of friends, and posting on Facebook. The boys were somehow the last to know. They'll forgive me.

Here's how it went down....

We stayed home from church. Dwaine has a horrible cold & I'm allergic to sitting alone in a church pew. So the cozy morning was spent playing games, reading books & drinking tea. After a final round of UNO I asked the boys,

"Hey, have you two ever thought about what it would be like if you had another brother or sister?"
"No."
"Have you ever wanted to be the Big Brother, Erik?"
"Not really."
(This wasn't going as we'd intended....Dwaine's starting to laugh....)
"What do you think it would be like if we had three kids in this family?"
"OK, I guess...."
"Well, boys you're both going to be big brothers."
"I already AM a big brother...."
"Yes, but Mommy is going to have another baby! You'll have a baby brother or sister!"
"Really????"
(pause....)
"Can they jump on the trampoline?"
"Is it a brother or a sister?
"What's his name?"
(Did you catch that? They assume it's a brother. Silly boys. They don't know that I've put out an APB to friends saying Think Pink?)

And that last question took them on a whole other tangent. Naming their sibling. (MmmmHmmmmm...worth the conversation time. I'm not taking notes however).

"Well, boys, what do you think some good names are?"

Boy names abound....
*George! *Harry! *Daniel! (then they start going through all of their friend's names...)

"Well, what if it's a girl?"
(crickets...silence....registering this foreign concept....)
*Stinky Feet! *PooPooFace! *UrANUS!
(They play far too much MadLibs)

And as the morning rolled on and the play moved upstairs and involved LEGOs (which always help the brain cells get moving) and sticker books, they kept tossing out names. Pirate names. Star Wars names, Harry Potter names. Strange names...except a few. Which, whether they realize it or not, are a few names that have long been high on our own lists.

Still a strong focus on boy names (maybe they know something we don't...)
*Anakin! *Darth Vader! *Darth Maul (we could just call him Maul for short) *Blackbeard! *Jack Sparrow (they're getting closer....) *Bartholomew! *Edward Teach! (that's Blackbeard to you landlubbers) *Sidious!
*Crazy Anne (pirate chick...and close to another true option) *Draco! *Dumbledore! *Snape!

The end of the morning's conversation started out far better than the beginning when neither of them saw a particular need for a baby sibling in their lives. Now at least they are seeing the possibility of naming this new someone. And if that gives them a bit of whatever it takes to feel involved in the process of bringing a new member into our family, so be it. We'll consider all options.

Except, of course, Stinky Feet or Darth Vader.

"

Sugar

2011-08-25T19:40:00.001+03:00

There is no sugar to be found in Nairobi. Kenya is facing not only draught but also a sugar crisis. Sounds bizarre doesn't' it?

Do you hear me, my sweet but somewhat over-pampered American friends? Sugar. Not a bag to be found on any grocery store shelves. And what is put out in the morning is sold by mid-day. And that which is on the shelves is double the price. (And seriously, Kenyan sugar isn't anything to write home about. Although, clearly, right now I am.). And there are sugar rations. One bag of double priced sugar per customer.

Ghandi fought a peaceful war over salt. Though we're far from war in Kenya, there are upsets & frustrations about this crisis too. And there are also suppliers who are holding back their supplies while prices rise so that they can make a windfall when their product hits the shelves.

The sugar crisis doesn't effect me too much. We have a nice little commissary where I can get a nice American brand sack of sugar. I'm trying to cut it out anyway...no big deal to go without for awhile. But it does effect others. The sugar crisis is a reflection of the continually rising cost of living. It's a small luxury for some people that is now completely out of reach. It's a reflection of the inefficiencies of local companies to produce enough product to meet the demands of the country. It's a reflection of the local government's unwillingness and delay to open up the market to importers to the point of now not being able to get any product at all. It's also...sadly...a real result of the draught in that there was not enough sugar cane produced to cover the regular production needs of the major sugar companies here.

And though it doesn't effect me too greatly (I mean honestly, Amazon.com is just a click away) it does effect Stella, my housekeeper, who has a nice little side business of making cinnamon rolls. But would you want to order cinnamon rolls that didn't contain sugar in the center? And there goes her pocket change.

Sugar. I never thought I'd go to a grocery store and not be able to find sugar.

Full Nest

2011-08-24T14:08:00.000+03:00

Soon I'll be going on a trip to Pretoria, South Africa. I'll be packing for one. But I certainly won't be traveling alone.

I'm going to Pretoria for my first trimester pregnancy screening. Yep. You heard me correctly. We are expecting Baby Lee #3 in mid-March. And, after getting over our initial shock (which has lasted for the duration of this first trimester), we've become excited about welcoming a new little special someone into our home.

So, raise your glass and drink a toast for me. It's going to be a good long while before I can drink a toast of my own. It will also be a good long while before we sleep in late on a Saturday again, a good long while before we travel baby-equipment free again, a good long while before we see the end of the elementary school years, a good long while before I squeeze into my favorite jeans again...

But most importantly, it will be a good long while before our home is ever considered an "Empty Nest" because in a few months we'll be adding to it. And nothing could be sweeter than a nice, cozy, full nest.

Local friends...I haven't yet told the boys...waiting just a little bit longer. Please, don't tell your little ones either just yet as I don't want my two to hear it on the jungle gym.

Hurdling

2011-08-09T17:43:00.001+03:00

When I was in high school I ran track. (Sort of. I ran with the track team. I practiced with them but didn't go to the meets. But that's beside the point...).

I loved it. I did my distance runs with Noelle who was always just a step ahead of me. It kept me always striving to catch up and her always keeping a strong enough pace that kept her in front of me.

I practiced hurdles with Marissa who managed to look elegant while leaping, stride/stride, leaping, stride/stride, leaping into the air. I did okay too. Until the one day that I fell. It was the last hurdle and my left foot caught the top of the bar and both I and the bar fell flat onto the track. I wasn't hurt or necessarily even embarrassed (most of the cute guys at my school played football...not track). But I did look at hurdles completely differently after that tumble.

For the first time it dawned on me that there was no logical reason why I should be able jump over something that comes up to my waist. Physically how was I able to raise myself up to the height necessary to clear the bar? Again, again, and once again? I continued to practice but I was never able to get over another hurdle. I'd run up to it in perfect stride and stop.

Back to being a pace setter for Noelle.

I think I've just knocked down a different kind of hurdle. I've just realized that this lifestyle we have has one major flaw. It involves a lot of hellos and goodbyes. A. Lot. Of. Them. For 6 and half years, I've taken them in stride. But this year, when the bounty of newcomers to Nairobi is huge the farewells far more than I'd anticipated, it's dawned on me that this is hard. Humanly speaking, so many good byes followed quickly by literally hundreds of new hellos, well...it's a big deal. It's a hurdle. I'm a friendly girl. Making friends hasn't typically been a challenge for me. The challenge has been in trying to hold onto and maintain friendships across the miles (and often failing).

And if the new hellos and some unexpected goodbyes that have taken place over the past few weeks are a hurdle in this lifestyle then I know one thing for sure. This time there isn't the option of going back to being the proverbial pace setter. It's get up and run hurdles or drop out of the race altogether. For a little while I may pace myself and say hellos slowly while I allow myself to miss the many who have left.

And that, I think, in the grand scheme of things is just fine.

Brrrrr.....

2011-08-07T20:35:00.000+03:00

Do you hear that? It's my teeth chattering.

It is August and I'm layering on my fuzzy socks in the evening and digging in my linen closet for flannel sheets. (Gave them away when leaving Macedonia. Apparently some people (me) were under the impression that Africa is too hot for flannel sheets).

But shivering in the mid-afternoon leads to evenings spent beside one of these. And really, what's so bad about that?

Now my only trouble is that I must resist the urge to play Christmas music and dig out the ornaments. Well, I do have another trouble. I seriously cannot seem to stop shivering. It's as if the cold just sort of wiggles it's way inside to your bones and won't get out without a good cup of hot chocolate.

Ahhhh, problem solved!

At Home

2011-07-30T18:57:00.000+03:00

It's the little things that say "home" to me.....

We are half way through our post in Nairobi. And now, after 2 years with another 2 to go, we are beginning to feel somewhat at home here. There are things we love. There are things we don't love. But the good outweighs the bad on several counts. And for the sense of peace we have as we go into this second half of our tour, we are truly grateful.

The Moms Are Here...

2011-07-27T14:24:00.002+03:00

Not MY mom...not Dwaine's mom. But rather, the moms. The ones who are here to observe and write about what they see in Kenya. I first wrote about the ONE moms here. They were deemed 'influential mom bloggers' by ONE (Bono's organization). That term piqued my interest. I was curious about what they would be doing here and what ultimate purpose it would serve.

Advocacy. Advocacy by gathering from the life experiences of others who are living in the most harsh & unforgiving of circumstances and then sharing it with those of us who care to be touched by the story. Visiting with those who have faced death, disease, hunger, poverty and pain such as we will not ever see ourselves. I think that, like me, you'll not only be touched by their stories but will also be compelled to seek ways to also become a proponent for change.

Today Dwaine met with these jet-lagged but energetic women where he toured with them through one of the most derelict of slums that he has projects in. He had so many positive things to say about his morning with this group of women and their intelligent questions & insights that I'm looking forward to what they have to say about their experience too.

You can read about today's visit at Shayne Moore's blog. It may take her some time to upload her story but while you're waiting read some of her past posts. I particularly liked the posts entitled, "Intentional Miracles" and "Sobering Realities. Real Hope". This ONE mom has also written a book I think I'd really like to read called "Global Soccer Mom". That title captures our globally nomadic lives, does it not, fellow world-wide women? But, oddly enough, living overseas does not equate to automatically being able to raise our children with an other's focused global perspective. (In fact, it doesn't even automatically equate to ME having an other's focused global perspective). It's refreshing to read other's global perspective of what is my neighborhood.

So, for those of you who are interested in following their stories, you'll find them here. I for one cannot wait to have my heart touched, my spirit disturbed, and my mind set in new directions of usefulness.

Dear Neighbors....

2011-07-23T07:55:00.000+03:00

Dear neighbors,

I'm sorry. I know 7:30am on a Saturday is a bit too early for trampolining fun. But you have boys too. And, like us, you've made that trans-Atlantic flight and had to recover. You know that if your neighbor's kids are on the trampoline at 7:30am on a Saturday morning, it's likely that they've been jumping on their beds since 3:00am. Their mother has been up with them just waiting for the sun to come up so that she could release them to the great outdoors. And release herself to finish off that pot of coffee.

We haven't met yet, new neighbors. You moved into the home across the street while we were on R&R. I've heard you're a very nice family. I've heard you have kids. I've heard that they are the same age as ours. I understand that they enjoyed our trampoline and tire swing while we were gone. I'm hoping this buys me some bonus points for being "that mom"; the one that selfishly opened the door of my home the minute the sun came up & thus waking up the neighborhood. But you weren't in my house for the last 4 and half hours. We've lived almost an entire day's worth of fun in here. And you're just now waking up (you're welcome!).

Hopefully the plate of muffins I bring over to you next week to welcome you to the neighborhood will speak better of what kind of neighbors we are than the hollering you've heard from house 510. ("I do not care if you aren't tired! It's dark outside! Go back to bed!".... that was me. Followed by some sweetness like, "No more light saber fights in the house! Your father is SLEEPING! Oh. Sorry. Did I wake you? Since you're up can you feed the monsters? I'm going to bed").

Feel free to stop by anytime for a visit. Or a pot of coffee. I expect to have one brewed at all times for the next week. Come early! We'll be up!

Warmly,
Need a Nap Naoma

PS~ You'll be glad to know that now, at 7:45 am my boys asked if they could go knock on your door and invite your kids over. I said, "Not yet...it's too early". I'm thoughtful that way. We'll wait until at least 8.

One more week...

2011-07-15T18:25:00.001+03:00

One week from today I'll be waking up in my own bed in Nairobi.

Although I can't claim to have "missed" Nairobi...or Kenya, or even Africa for that matter, I can say that I'm ready. Or at least, I will be in a week.

It's been a full summer. Beach trips, bike riding, visiting, amusement parks, BBQs, birthday parties, get aways, catching up, shopping, reading, cabin-ing, eating out & stocking up. But as I think back over the past 7 weeks, and try to capture what it was that I've so thoroughly enjoyed about this summer in particular, it's not a particular event or activity that comes to mind.

It's being relaxed. 100% at ease. And it's seeing my boys feeling relaxed, at peace & entirely comfortable living in whatever moment they may be in. Which usually involves a new Lego set.

It's being together. With people we love. Long enough to wander through the phases of catching up. It's meeting the newest members of the family, spending time with the oldest members of the family, & being stunned at the growth spurts of the teenagers in between.

It's appreciating the little things we'd forgotten about. Like recognizing songs on the radio. Like hearing English spoken on the radio. Like the ease of driving in a country with driving laws & wide smooth highways. Like drinking water from the tap & having a fridge that spits out ice cubes & cool clear water at the touch of a button. Like big box stores that actually have the item you came in to buy (...and a few you didn't think you needed until you saw them). Like refillable coffee mugs at breakfast & take away sodas the size of my head (which contain 'clean' ice!). Like miles of beach just a short way from where I am (I can see it from where I'm sitting!). The water may be colder & the beaches may be crowded, but I'll take the Pacific to the Indian any day of the week.

It's experiencing new things through the eyes of our children. Like scary stories told around campfires. Like boogie boarding & digging up sand crabs. Like waterslides & swimming in the deep end. Like riding a bike & climbing big trees. Like Chuck E. Cheese, soda dispensers & sleep overs with your cousin. Like finally being tall enough to play basketball and ride the roller coasters.

It's standing side by side people I love the most and worshiping together at church.

It's sitting together over meals that involve laughter, wine & are followed by games & dessert.

This time next week I'll be waking up in my own bed in Nairobi. I cannot yet say that I'm looking forward to it. But I am looking forward to what the next two years holds for our family. I am looking forward to the new people I'll meet who've arrived this summer. I'm looking forward to being involved in volunteering at the school & developing the mentoring relationship I've begun with a Kenyan young woman I've been getting to know. I'm looking forward to getting back to work. I'm looking forward to introducing family & visitors to the Kenya we've come to know.

And then, at the end of the next year in Kenya, I'm looking forward to getting on a plane and coming right back here and taking a big gulp out of the cup of the familiar to help see me through our final year there.

July 4th, 2011

2011-07-05T18:10:00.000+03:00

"God bless America, Land that I love..."

I think those words feel even sweeter to sing when I've been away from the Land of the Free & Home of the Brave for awhile.

"Stand beside her, And guide her through the night with the light from above..."

I know the songwriter meant the country...Sure. That works. But in my heart I'm thinking, ME...guide ME please? Stand beside me, (and He always does), and guide me with the light from above as I'm so far from home.

"From the mountains, to the prairies, to the ocean's white with foam..."

I'm from California. We've got ALL of the above. This part of the country is where God got really creative. Each summer Dwaine, the boys and I drive from Northern CA to Southern CA and we are reminded of this song. We drive along with the Sierras to one side, prairies to the other and within a short time the prairies make way to ocean.

"God bless America, my 'Home Sweet Home'..."

Absolutely true. We're going into our 8th year of living abroad. As much as we may come to love where we reside, there is nothing as sweet as being home.

Happy Independence Day, everyone. God bless you & God bless America.

So far, So good

2011-06-23T08:59:00.001+03:00

The boys and I made a safe, sound, sane and well seated on all of our flights trip to CA on our own. Jet lag was tolerable and the transition to US life was easy.

Every day has it's own set of highlights to remember. But the best by far are...:

* The boys are at an age when they can play outside with less supervision. They love the independence this gives them.

* Erik has learned how to ride a bike, climb the tree in the front yard & can ride all of the really big & scary rides at the Beach Boardwalk.

* Connor had a full battery of educational testing done. We were thrilled to find that he does not have Asperger's Syndrome. He is wonderfully, uniquely his own little self (with a not too shabby IQ to boot).

* The cul-de-saq has a nice group of kids to play with! This year Connor's summer birthday will be celebrated with kids his own age!

Fishing, camping, movies, park days, beach days as it warms up here & lots of together time. This is shaping up to be a most excellent of summer visits!

Seating Plans

2011-05-27T14:27:00.002+03:00

I'm flying solo with my two boys to America tomorrow night. Over night flight. Two boys 8 & 7...hardly the independent travelers yet. We reserved tickets in the Economy Plus section of the plane. "Plus" means the seats recline a bit more, "Economy" means it's still not 1st Class (where they have umbrella drinks & cabana boys, right?).

Turning left instead of right upon entering the KLM flight? Cozier blankets & fluffier pillows? Being 3 seats of a 36 seat section as opposed to a couple hundred? I'll take it!

So, Dwaine reserved our 3 seats and I got busy dreaming of what fun movies they might be showing during our (almost) 1st Class flight. Then we checked our seats on-line today...just to be *sure* of the seat numbers.

I don't know who is sitting in 7B and 10C but they're going to have to help open the snacks and pick up stray Legos from the floor. Because some fool booked all of us in 3 different rows. How very clever.

And, although I know this kind of thing happens every now and again and can often be worked out once you get to the counter, I also know that there is a full flight, only a sparse number of seats in the (almost) First Class cabin. And if the ticket agent is willing to let my little monkeys sit alone well then shouldn't I be? While we're at it, let's just bump me up to First Class where you get umbrella drinks and cabana boys. These little boys can fend for themselves in Coach, right?

This is annoying. But not as annoying as it could be for the innocent passengers in 7B & 10C.

Not my kid. But it could be if my foot stomping at the counter doesn't work

"ONE" Mom Bloggers

2011-05-20T20:15:00.002+03:00

I believe my husband is one of the most amazing and influential men in the world. Combating poverty with cutting edge youth and education projects. A quiet, reserved, humble, unsung hero in many ways.

Like Bono, only cuter.

International

So, it came as no surprise (well, maybe a little bit of a surprise) when Bono's organization contacted Dwaine seeking to make arrangements to meet and tour some of the projects/slum schools that he is involved with. Whoo Hooo! Bono? Here? To meet ME impoverished children? Impressive!

But wait. It gets better.

He's bringing "Influential Mom Bloggers". Bono would be interesting to meet. A group of so called 'Influential Mom Bloggers'? Now THERE is a group I'd like to spend some time with! And I just might get to....

To be honest though, my sidebar is loaded with influential mom bloggers who LIVE HERE. Women who inspire me, have both feet on slum-school grounds regularly, work tirelessly to combat poverty daily as they have for years and years. I'm glad that some influential women who obviously have a long arm to reach others with the sad story of poverty in Kenya are coming here. But, if I had the courage and capability to speak up, I'd ask that these women travelling here would meet up and talk with any of the women that I've come to know and be astounded by.

Since some of you expressed a little interest in what this trip was about & who the "Influential Mom Bloggers" were I'm going to post bits of their Overview information here.

*************
OVERVIEW & OBJECTIVES:
ONE, the global anti-poverty campaign and advocacy organization, is organizing a seven day listening and learning trip to Kenya with a diverse delegation of influential bloggers and women from all facets of the online mom community. The delegation will gain a deeper understanding of development challenges and see firsthand how strong African leadership and smart donor investments are helping everyday Africans fight their way out of poverty.

The goal of this trip is to lead these women on a listening and learning tur of Kenya to showcase how their counterparts in the developing world live and an acute focus on the personal stories behind the people in Africa. The delegation will explore a wide spectrum of issues that directly relate to the mothers of Kenya and learn about what is and is not working....and what more is needed to ensure that every woman has the opportunity to provide a better future for their children. participants will share their experiences before, during, and after their trip ...

DELEGATION:
ONE has assembled a diverse delegation drawing from individual niches from the mom blogging community....:

*Jennifer James: The Mom Bloggers Club and jjamesonline.com. (named by Nielsen as "Top Power Mom").

*Lindsay Maines: Social media conference speaker & consultant. Lindsay blogs at rockandrollmama

*Rachel Fox: ONE volunteer Congressional District Leader. (No blog listed but may blog on the ONE website...?).

*Shayne Moore: Author of "Global Soccer Mom" (published by Zondervan) telling her personal story of global advocacy & encourages moms to use their voice for the issues they care about most.

*Elisa Morgan: President and CEO of Mothers of Preschoolers International (MOPs). Author of "She Did What She Could" as well as several other mothering books. She currently publishes the free digital magazine, Fulfill.

*Cooper Munroe & Emily McKhann: Founders of the the award-winning blogging community, The Motherhood.

*Jyl Pattee: The founder of Mom It Forward & the Girls' Night Out (#gno) Twitter parties. (Someone invented a way to have girls' night out parties on-line? I'm beginning to see why I was not invited to participate as an "Influential Mom" since I barely know how to throw off-line parties).

*Karen Walrond: Founder of Chookooloonks.com, an on-line photoblog chronicling beauty in the everyday life. Author of "The Beauty of Different", and is the lead blogger on the BlogHer "Own Your Own Beauty campaign (featured in USA Today. *Yea. Me too.*). She is listed as one of the top 50 mom bloggers by Babble Magazine.

***********************************

So, there you have it. The ONE guest list that includes some of the most prolific social networking moms who will be coming to my current home town. I've checked out all of their sites. Glancing over them makes me feel a little bit like the country cousin visiting her city-slicker cousin in "Town Mouse, Country Mouse". Slick. Busy. Crowded with friends & strangers alike. Informational. Funny. Touching. Interesting. Bustling & buzzy with on-line activity.

But you know I'll be elbowing my way through the on-line crowd of friends visiting their sites to get a glimpse into what they have to say about this corner of the world that I currently call "Home".

These women will be spending time in some of the dirtiest, most destitute (some would say hopeless) of places. I'm guessing they've not ever seen poverty like this up close and personal before. And, like anyone who crosses over the threshold of open sewers of a slum and crosses into the lives of those who make their home within it, I expect these women will not be the same. And I'm looking forward to reading all about it on their blogs. Then I look forward to watching how the ONE organization uses their stories to reach right back into this corner of the world.

Do you know what I fear just an eensy bit? I fear that with only 7 days to tour umpteen schools/projects/slums these visitors will send cyber postcards to their 50 kabillion followers with the heart-wrenching stuff that brings about pity giving vs. giving that empowers and emboldens those they'll be writing about. Kenya doesn't need any more of that. I don't know what Kenya needs. But I know they don't need any more pity.

I just asked Dwaine (aka 'Cute In A Suit') if I could join them on one of the trips he has planned. He said "not likely". Sounds like it's time to take it up with the head honcho. Bono?

...what do you mean, "Bono won't actually be here???"...

Strawberry Dreams

2011-05-16T20:26:00.000+03:00

The boys and I leave for California in 12 days. I wish this pictorial list of things I'm looking forward to had a scratch-n-sniff option....

Berries! Berries! I miss fresh, sweet, ripe berries!

(San Diego has better Mexican food than Mexico. One good carne asade taco will take care of me).

(Never underestimate the value of a Big Gulp filled to the top with *clean* ice with just a splash of Diet Pepsi to top it off with. Only in America).

(That's not me. But I want it to be).
I look forward to bike rides with my boys this summer. Long walks and the freedom to stay out past dark. I look forward to being able to walk, run, skip, ride, somersault or cartwheel after dark if we want to. I look forward to spending the summer in a place where my longest walks don't go in circles around a track, sometimes wander uphill and never have to worry about "security" or crazy drivers.

Last summer I left my bike at my parent's house. I think that may have been a great plan. We can ride down to the corner market for fresh strawberries & blueberries to go with my Big Gulp.

EFM?

2011-05-10T19:01:00.002+03:00

When we enter the Foreign Service on someone else's travel orders people start to call us names. Or, more technically, acronyms.

EFM. (Eligible Family Member. NOT to be confused with what your mother used to call you when she was trying to set you up with cute guys/girls).
MOH (Members of Household. You cannot count your cats).
Trailing Spouse (Too low to by acronymed)

Over the years, of being an EFM who happens to be a Trailing Spouse (makes me feel like someone who has to kick off her kitten heals and strap on her runners in order to chase down her runaway spouse) and parents two little MOH's, I've just accepted the names I'm called. Not a big deal to me.

But I know there are others out there who strongly dislike being called an EFM. And it actually comes up a lot. Not like at dinner parties. "Hi Phil! I'd like you to meet my EFM, Jane. And these are our MOH's, Billy & Sally". But the phrase does appear frequently in all embassy communications. And, for some, it makes their skin crawl.

So, here is my question, FS friends. What feeling does the term EFM conjure up in you? And, acknowledging that somehow we have to be termed as something, when being referred to as a group, what would you choose to call US? Those of us who are at post to pursue someone else's career, sometimes in lieu of our own. How does the bureaucracy that is the US Gov't refer to the small slice of the pie that is you and me? Do you feel that you are being defined by your travel orders and the fact that you are only recognized as "belonging" to someone. Non-individuality?

I haven't, until this week, given much thought to these terms and acronyms. But a rather heated discussion took place this week that I was privileged (?) to be a by-stander to. And there are some solid reasons why some folks don't embrace the perceived perspective that the State Dept. has of us. (The perceived perspective is that all EFM's are women, non-working, mothers who "do lunch". 1950s style marriages. The conversation I was privy to went further than that. But that's all that stuck with me).

Where do you fall? Does it even matter?

Could be worse. We EFM's would be called COWs if we were spouses of Navy husbands who had reached the rank of Commanding Officer. Try that on for size. Commanding Officer's Wife. But she gets her own marked parking spot at the PX so it's not all bad.

Funny Pages

2011-05-04T20:10:00.003+03:00

Oh, I so badly wanted to. But in the end, I just could not place myself directly on the firing line of peer pressure. It seems as if everyone on the news and in cyber-space is rejoicing over the death of bin Laden. And I really, really wanted to add just a tiny bit of humor to the one corner of the embassy world that I could. But I chickened out. I had carefully selected, cut, pasted & saved the funniest yet most benign political cartoons related to the events of May 2. Then I carefully deleted each and every one of them. Probably for the best.

We live in one of the largest embassy posts (read: overflowing with heartfelt opinions & a willingness to liberally share them). Many of the truly exceptional local staff working along side us are Muslim. No matter how exuberant one (or several thousand) of us may feel at the news of the death of Osama bin Laden, the small handful who are not happy about it would not take the following cartoons lightly.

But YOU will! And if you're offended by it, I simply do not care. Self-censorship is for the weak (...& those paid by the State Department). I suppose the fact that we are also one of the few embassies with a history of bombings pulled off by the same folks who attacked us on US soil did play a part in my decision to not make fun of them openly.

So, Ladies & Gentlemen, I bring you segments of the deleted embassy newsletter section entitled "The Last Laugh".

Monday, May 2, 2011
Top Ten Final Words Of Osama bin Laden

10. "My horoscope says 'Big surprises are in store'"
9.   "See, this is why I normally don't answer the door"
8.   "The one time I give my bodyguards a day off to go to the zoo..."
7.   "What on earth could be interrupting 'Celebrity Apprentice'?"
6.   "I hear Brian Williams is on Dave to discuss my imminent demise"
5.   "At least I'll be reunited with my dear departed friend

Jack LaLanne"
4. "I'm not sure I want to live in a world where 'Fast Five'

       is the #1 movie"
3.   "Any man with multiple wives welcomes death. Am I right, fellas?"
2.   "I need a house full of Navy SEALs like I need a hole in the head"
1.   "Oh, crap!"

(Note to readers in America whom I know are inundated with this stuff. Now is your chance to either feel smug that you have easy access to all of the political cartoons you could ever want OR be shocked and dismayed that, unlike you, we Foreign Service folks must actually do 'research' to find them).

Home Sweet...Hmmmm?

2011-05-02T14:48:00.000+03:00

I'm looking at Trulia.com again but this time my home-owner dreams have taken a turn for the realistic. Which involves a lot fewer bedrooms and a few shared walls.

We'd like to buy a home. The home needs to be in Northern California for easy access to my mom & step-dad & easy flying distance to Southern California kin. The home needs to be of a square footage that I can clean on my own (Oh, don't roll your eyes at me. You wish you were out of practice too). The home needs to be rentable for after the one year that we actually plan to inhabit it (Long story short, we're advance planning for the day when Dwaine does his unaccompanied tour. Boys and I will live stateside for that year. Home rented thereafter). The home needs to not be old & stinky & gross.

That's the basics (A/C, yard & great decorative details would be nice too but I'm not holding my breath). As we've looked at HOUSES we can afford we've found that they don't do well in the old & stinky & gross category. Actually, they don't do well in the square footage I can manage category either.

So we started popping into the CONDOS & TOWNHOUSE category of Trulia.com. I grew up in homes that shared common walls with my neighbors. Dwaine and I moved into a lovely townhome community when we returned from Uganda. It took me almost the whole year there to adjust to being able to see all of my neighbor's front doors & not having bars on my windows. I thought that would be the last time I'd ever live in close quarters like this....

(ain't the internet great? I googled "Jay Ave. Townhouses" and got a photo of my EXACT front door from bygone days...)

But I think that's where we're heading as first time homebuyers. I'm still not sure what I think about that. I really had my heart set on a stand alone house. Preferably the 6 bedroom one which is directly behind my parent's house and just so happens to be for sale. Falling far short of the criteria of "able to manage the upkeep on my own". But there is one good solid reason why a townhouse may win out.

I'm a scaredy cat.

When I shared a home in Santa Clara with 2 housemates & those housemates would be away, I never slept well. I always imagined that someone would break in when I was home alone. I heard sinister noises that kept me awake. I don't do well as the only adult in the home. Unless, of course, I lock my safe-haven gate, turn the 7 turns on the front door that fully secures me behind my 24 hour guarded property, which just so happens to have 8 foot walls with an additional 3 feet of electric wire. But since THAT'S not something one finds on Trulia (& is a bit of an overkill anywhere)... I have to think about what will make me feel the most safe in a home that I share with my 2 boys for a year on my own.

Neighbors. I want to hear them, smell what they're making for dinner & get annoyed at their yipping dog. I want to know that someone is right next door and can also hear me (better bring the occasional yelling at my boys down a notch). I want to live in a community that takes care of trash collection, mowing the lawn & cleaning the pool. And at the end of the year, I want to be able to rent the home out easily.

I also want to be in close walking distance to a Starbuck's, a park, & Target. In that order. "Walking distance". Wow, just that phrase alone makes me want to get back to my Trulia.com shopping. Fancy that, walking anywhere & the security/freedom to do so could make just about anywhere feel like home to me.

So, I've gone from looking at places like this...

(isn't that just sooo California? Not the ideal, but CA sure has a style of it's own)

...to looking at prospective homes like this

Walking distance to 2 Starbuck's, neighbors, a community pool & a savings of $250,000. Suddenly 1,200 sq. feet never looked so inviting. And manageable.

Wrap it up, I'll take it today!

My Gov't Genie

2011-04-28T19:12:00.003+03:00

Once every now and again the US Gov't smiles on me and the whole world brightens just a little bit more!

About 2 weeks ago I got a shock when I looked at my Diplomatic passport and realized *YIKES* it was about to expire. In fact, it was set to expire the day before I am planning to fly solo with the boys from Kenya to California. And, as oversights of great magnitude would have it, the boy's passports were near expiration too.

I'm a pretty organized lady most of the time. But apparently in the areas that really, really count I can sometimes drop the ball.

So, I was looking at 3 of these

...which may as well have had one of these stamped on each of their covers.

"So? No big deal. Just travel using your regular passport", you say?

(If you're a mom, traveling on your own with 2 young kids, once in awhile the difference between a blue passport and a black passport can make all the difference in customs lines & *sometimes* at the ticket counter when you need just a touch more of that good ol' American customer support).

Besides. My blue passport was set to expire the day before our scheduled arrival back in Kenya. Oops.

MmmmHmmmm. What that means is that I could leave this country. I just could not return at all. (...well, now wait a minute. Had I thought about it that way...).

So, I filled out the paperwork. Got the photos taken (I now have an officially documented "bad hair day" for the next 4 years) and paid my money at the window. And along with all of the paperwork (So. Much. Paperwork) I tucked in a little handwritten plea to The Powers That Be.

“Will you please consider sending our passports
to my parent’s home address?”

There's not a box that can be checked on the official forms that makes that scenario ok.

2 days ago my mom received an official looking package. It not only contained 3 diplomatic passports but it contained 3 diplomatic passports delivered 5 weeks ahead of schedule.

I doubt that the helpful soul in the Consular section who scurried my passport situation along is reading this. But if they were I would thank them for showing that there truly is a kind and human side to government bureaucracy.

If you know someone working in the passport section of the Ronald Reagan building will you buy them lunch for me today? They deserve it.

Latest Read

2011-04-25T12:03:00.000+03:00

I've recently started reading a book that's been sitting on my shelf for a couple of months. It's been on my "must read" list for about a year. And after a good solid 4 day weekend it will be on my list "best reads". It's an important book for helping me to understand why after nearly two years of living in Kenya I still just don't get it. Why the country is as it is, how tribalism has hurt it more than helped it & what impact colonization had in destroying (more than developing) a country rich with resources but (now) poor in the 'unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno' theory of the Three Muskateers.

I don't know enough about the inner-workings of Kenya, tribalism, government & Africa-think in general to be able to say that this book is a fair depiction of Kenya. But it is eye-opening. It helps to explain to me why so many day in and day out things just don't make sense to me. Even down to the fact that those who work for me don't ask what I believe to be pertinent questions ("Doctor, what is the matter with me?" or "What year is this car I am buying?").

And even down to helping me to riddle out why this post which has so much to offer (schools, churches, entertainment, beauty, daily comfort, malls...) just does not feel like "home" to me in the least. It's not because I'm writing a long list of negative comparisons between it and other places I've lived. It's for a wide number of reasons. One of which is that the colonized history and a fought for and won independence from a wazungu nation is not in the all too distant past. It is because as my husband works and labors to empower the youth through various education projects, he is for the first time working for, not with, the government of this country. Being seen as a benefactor rather than a team player is a subtle difference. But it makes all the difference in the job-satisfaction for a man who likes to work along-side his local government counterparts...not just seen as the man with the US money.

And it's made a lot of difference for me as well as I find myself staying in the spot that it seems I'm "supposed" to stay in... my little white mzungu bubble. I didn't come here intending to surround myself with others just like me. But, in a sense, have found that tribalism is true even for those of us in the 43rd tribe of Kenya. The Mzungu or "people on the move".

I'm not going to be here long enough to do anything other than observe Kenya from the outside even though I'm living on the inside. Reading this book (although I'm only half way done) is helping me to know the names of key players throughout history (as I should...their faces are all over our money & streets are named in their honor) and a better working understanding of current events that are being played out internationally.

Next book?

No Questions: No Answers

2011-04-22T12:10:00.000+03:00

So, do you remember that when my driver bought himself a car he had not considered asking some basic key questions about it beforehand? Such as "What year is it?"

Yesterday I discovered that the tendency to not ask questions trickles down into medical issues as well. And I, as an over-curious & informationally entitled American, find that completely mind-boggling.

My housekeeper, Stella, who is smart, capable, professional, a motivated businesswoman & sharp in so many areas, had an ailment this past week. Her leg was in pain. She rarely complains of aches and pains. Is more willing to work when sick so that I don't have to deal with household sloppiness (I don't think she believes I'm actually quite a capable laundry folder. My aim is to not show her how skilled I really am). Stella had aches and pains that to me, sounded like sciatica. But what do I know? I'm a simple graduate of the WebMD courses that allow me to sound more intelligent than I am. (Being the daughter of a nurse doesn't hurt either).

Stella went to the doctor for her pain. I'm fairly certain she expected to be told she had cancer. I do know that she was expecting to need an x-ray because it felt to her as if a bone was broken. Which should have been my first indication that she did not take graduate with her WebMD degree as most Americans have. The next day I asked what the doctor had said. She handed me a very official looking card that looked like this

When I asked what it said she told me:

"This top line says:

Injection of medicine:
-Wednesday
-Friday
-Sunday
Then once every week."

No doctor name. No "medicine" name. No duration of time of how many weeks. No appointment time.

And she was not told any of these things either. So, what that boils down to is that Stella was given an injection of SOMETHING (she does not know what). She must go back at SOME time for 3 days and then must continue with these unknown injections for SOME number of weeks.

My cardinal rule is that no non-embassy doctor will break the skin of my children or myself. It baffles me that a very clever adult woman could go to the doctor and come out having had an injection and not asked what was in the needle & what expected result she would see from it.

My last question for her was, "What did the doctor say was the problem?" He didn't say. So I gave her another few thousand and asked her to go back and find out. Hopefully the next little slip of paper she is given will be legible & a tad bit more specific.

Signature

2011-04-21T17:51:00.002+03:00

Today is the first day that I actually signed my name thus, in a sense, standing on a stage in front of a couple thousand people and saying, "Look what I did! Do you like it?" And I really, really hate standing alone on a stage of any kind where an audience could look at something I've done and say, "Hmm. No. Not really."

For the past few weeks I've been working as the editor of our embassy newsletter. It's a weekly newsletter that averages about 30 pages. The Roar is how the embassy community finds out movie schedules, upcoming events, sees photos of themselves at the community get togethers, and reads posts from other offices throughout the embassy. I'm still a little wobbly on my feet but I'm starting to get the hang of things.

Except classifieds.

The classifieds section has been the bane of my job existence. I named this week "Operation: Conquer The Classifieds". This is the section that most newcomers look to first & most on their way outers are very particular about how/where/when and for how long their ad runs. And rightly so...we all want to sell our scuba gear & trampolines before shipping out for the next post. The 3 columned classifieds in Nairobi take up about 4 pages of The Roar and have driven me to under-breath cursings a time or two (or six). The lesson of this particular week was that "Auto flow is not your friend". (There's still someone's poor bunnies their trying to get rid of that were autoflowed out into some periphery of Publisher that I just don't think I will ever find again). I came up with a solution today that ain't pretty but it will meet my need of NOT looking at 3 side by side columns of car, housestaff & used baby clothes ads. So did I "Conquer the Classifieds"? Eh. Not really. But I did clean them up and do my best to make sure that all were included.

So there. I just told you what job it is that I now do. Told you I would after I got done with my stage fright. I'm not completely over it yet and I'm not 100% confident that I'm even doing a very good job. I am confident that I did the whole ding dang thing by my own little self for the first time this week. And that, in and of itself, is cause for mild rejoicing. And a very tall rum & coke. So, since I did it all by myself I signed it this week. And that is a pretty big step for me.

Happy Easter. If you want some bunnies, I can hook you up (once I find that ad again).

Birthday Wishes

2011-04-19T19:39:00.004+03:00

There's a very special party going on in Capitola, CA this weekend.

My family is coming from far and wide to celebrate my Aunt Ute's birthday with her. I may be biased, but I believe she is well worth the celebrating! I wish that I could be there to share the day with her (and my crazy family too).

Aunt Ute is one of a kind. She laid the foundation for adventure travel in our family tree. As you could surmise from her name, "she's not from these parts". She was born and raised in Germany. As a young woman she came to the US as an au pair and met my handsome & charming Uncle Bill. The young Annapolis man was worth leaving her beautiful Germany behind for. The older I get, the more that mind-set makes absolute sense to me. And the more I admire her for it.

Aunt Ute will always be in the kitchen in my mind. She is an absolutely amazing cook who introduced red cabbage, roulladen & rumtopf to our family repertoire. And we all felt a little extra German during those dinner get togethers. What would Christmas, birthday, graduation, JustForFun dinners have been like without Aunt Ute's spice and flair added in? Without after Christmas dinner carol-singing and dancing in the living room? We are all the richer for having Aunt Ute as a part of our family tree.

This weekend Aunt Ute will celebrate her 70th birthday in Capitola. I have fond recollections of playing in the waves at Capitola when the Esplanade was still skeeball and Pizza My Heart was just a walk up window. Uncle Bill, Mom and The Aunts sat in the beach chairs tanning while we cousins built sandcastles. My favorite California beach is Capitola mostly because it says "family" to me. And Aunt Ute is a special piece of that family picture.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Ute! They say that you are celebrating your 70th birthday today but that doesn't seem quite right to me. Are you sure you aren't skipping years? I will always think of you as that young, vibrant, German-accented auntie. Good thing some things just don't change over time.

This weekend we'll drink a toast in your honor...but it just won't be the same. Can we do the whole party over again when we see you this summer?

Leaking Wallet

2011-04-19T18:12:00.001+03:00

"Madame, my leg is hurting today...."
(Here's your doctor money. You'll need the whole day to go to the doctor? Ok).

"Madame, today my stomach is causing me some trouble..."
(Here's your doctor money).

"Madame, I am in need of new boots..."
(Here's your boot money).

Is it any wonder that some days I feel more like a parent to the folks that work for us than an employer?

My gardener was coughing today. No doubt, there is an impending visit to the doctor. Good thing he'll have new boots to get him there. Good thing I cashed a check today.

Kindness

2011-04-15T19:33:00.002+03:00

The start of this week featured my inadvertent view of an unnecessary act of violence. It was painful to watch helplessly from behind my tinted windows as my car sat, stuck in traffic, with a front row view of a dramatic fist fight. This city has pockets of unrest, violence & discontentment. So does New York. It's not that different.

Today is Friday. And, as a perfect bookend to the way the week began, I saw it end with a tiny bit of beauty. An unnecessary act of kindness.

I was at one of my favorite flower stands at Village Market mall when the woman who runs it was getting in a fresh shipment of gorgeous roses. The buckets were filled with multiple bouquets of red, multiple bouquets of white, multiple bouquets of pink roses. But there was only ONE bouquet of my favorite Sterling roses.

When Rose (yes, the woman who runs the shop has an ironic name) saw how happy I was to see my favorite rose she immediately plucked one rose out of the bunch and handed it to me. A random act of kindness in a city where nothing comes free.

That touched my heart today. And it reminded me that even though the start of the week was dramatic and unpleasant, the end of it was just as real of a piece of evidence of what Kenya is all about. Kindness and little gestures of generosity.

Unnecessary Violence

2011-04-11T18:57:00.003+03:00

It was on my Top 10 list of things I feared before moving to Nairobi. Violence.

After living here for a quiet, peaceful, well-manicured & weatherly pleasant 2 years, I've let my gaurd down. And what I saw today while stuck in the ubiquitous traffic of Nairobi was shocking. Not because we are not constantly warned that this is sometimes a (... ok, often...) dangerous city, but because once again, I've been lulled into a false sense of security. And, truth be told, neither I nor anyone I know was in any sense of danger. But the guy in the yellow jacket sure was.

As the ever steady Frederick drove me down the 1 mile (if even) stretch from school toward the embassy, we found that we were stuck in an alarming amount of traffic. Sitting still on a two lane road. Unpleasant & unsafe. We followed the lead of the matatus (local transport/vans) and made a third lane by driving on the muddy shoulder of the road. Just ahead of us was a small bus that emptied itself of two quarreling men without even taking time to stop...they just sort of pushed one another out.

I've seen fighting on school yards. I've seen angry sports fanatics at baseball games. But I have never seen a man beat the hell out of another man in my entire life. (Never heard me swear, have you? Because I don't. But this event warrants more than a "beat the living daylight out of"). Pinned down, full arm swing punches to the face, literally trying to kill the man in the yellow jacket. All before 8:00AM.

Just when I was wondering what I, a by-stander with a strong sense of justice (but low threshold for pain) could do...who I could call...what I could say to make the slugging stop, a man comes running up the shoulder of the road and throws himself onto, let's call him man in the black sweater, and yanks (and yanks and yanks) on him until finally, with the help of two more men, they get Mr. Blacksweater off of Mr. Yellowjacket. This is where my sense of justice and compassion got a little confused...

As the three men (Mr. Blacksweater & the two heroes of the story) are loading back onto the bus, which did eventually pull over right in front of us...where we were stopped...no place to go...no way around the fight...nothing to do but squeeze my eyes shut, pray & wait it out... As the 3 men make their way to get back onto the bus, Mr. Yellowjacket picks up a stone about the size of his head (which you'll find is not very large based on his next action) and attempts to throw it at the men. Two-thirds of whom just tried to save his life. The fight starts again, of course. My sense of compassion has turned to incredulity. Seriously, Mr. Yellowjacket? Not gonna just walk away happy to be un-dead from the head beating you just took? The rock missed his assailants the first time. So they beat him a little more (the heroes were heroic again and tore off Mr. Blacksweater once more).

Know what Mr. Yellowjacket did? He picked up that big, heavy rock again and threw it at them once more as they got onto the bus. Then he sauntered between the cars stuck in traffic and walked up the muddy shoulder on the other side of the road. And I drove off to work. Just like everyone else stuck on Limuru Road at half past 8 on this sunny Monday morning. As we passed the bus full of passengers that had emptied itself of the two fighting men, I looked at the faces of those on the bus. (**Here please picture what you believe a busload of passengers in the US~ or anywhere else, for that matter~ would have been doing had two of their seatmates tried to kill eachother for the last 5 minutes**). The bus was packed full of people who were stoic, slack-faced & bored looking. That struck me as odd.

I asked Frederick (our driver) what he suspected was the cause of the fighting. He, in his subdued wisdom linked it back to the political unrest after the last elections and the news of today. He said, "It is our problem. It is our people. We see with our eyes and do not remember. We hear with our ears and forget what we've heard. It is unneccessary violence."

I hope Mr. Yellowjacket was able to get some good medical help. And I hope to never see what I saw today ever again.

Stage Fright

2011-03-30T16:50:00.001+03:00

So, I started a job this week. It's a job I've often thought that I wanted to have. It's a job I've often thought that I'd be really good at it (except for the fact that I am completely untrained in the actual skills it takes to perform the job). It's a job that I interviewed for in the Fall and sadly did not get. Until this week. When circumstances changed and the position was re-opened and The Powers That Be were completely desperate and knew my cell number.

But before you ask the inevitable question, "So, what is it you're doing?", let me just tell you....I'm not going to tell you. Not yet anyway. I'm too nervous. I will tell you that others who have preceded me in this position have done a spectacular job. So spectacular in fact that I find myself utterly intimidated. Those who came before me were able to do in 8 hours what has just taken me 20 hours to complete. And they did it with flair, finesse & humor. I did it. (No adjectives).

Eventually I'm going to get the hang of this. Soon I'll know all of the necessary shortcuts and all of the names of people who do ThisThatOrTheOtherThing which make my little part time job easier & more enjoyable for all. But for now (the day before I have to put the final touches on my weekly-creation-in-the-rough and hit that big scary SEND button that is attached to a few thousand people I know & don't know....) I have stage fright. And I'm secretly hoping that nobody notices that the person who used to sit in my desk is no longer there. If it's an epic failure I don't want anyone to know it was me.

Those who did such a spectacular, flair filled, finely finessed & humorously good job at what I now find myself doing said things like, "It's a piece of cake" or "I could do it with my eyes closed" enjoy far better bakeries & vision than I currently do. I can hardly wait until I too can say those things. It'll come.

So, here's to the Spectaculars. From the girl who has spent nearly 2 years at the other end of the SEND button and thought, "I could do that!"....it's harder than it looks. And today I'm wondering if I bit off more than I can chew.

(I'm also quite proud of myself for trying something new & completely out of my comfort zone. But I'll save the personal parade of pride for when an epic failure does NOT take place).

Unplugged

2011-03-27T09:19:00.000+03:00

The view from our bedroom porch

We just returned from a week at the beach. Mombasa, Kenya...or as we prefer to refer to it..."Mombasaaaaaaah". It was a week of being completely unplugged. Wake up. Swim. Eat breakfast. Swim. Walk (private beach!).Snorkel. Read. Nap. Swim. Snack. Play games. Swim. Rest. It was a fantastic week. We shared the home with friends and were glad for their good company.

Connor, future marine biologist, with
a sea cucumber.

When without Legos, one must improvise

Erik, future cliff diver, jumping into our pool

Catch of the Day...Ugly or not, it's DINNER!

Relaxation....

On our morning walk...

Now we're home. Laundry is being washed. Sand shaken out of every nook and cranny of our bags. We're all a little more freckled than we were a week ago. All well rested and heart happy. And I am thankful for time to spend multiple days in a row of playing games with my boys. Time to discover the simple pleasure of laying tummy down in shallow, warm, cave shaded water just playing with the sand and thinking whatever thoughts (profound or petty) that wandered through my mind while I watched the 3 most important people in my life snorkeling nearby. It's not until I unplug completely that I realize how much the details of daily life prevent me from embracing what is best in life.

During this week I began reading a book that a friend loaned to me. I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed it and how it seemed to be a perfect fit for the season in which I find myself. This book couples beautifully with a devotional I've been reading as well....

Together, these two books have given words to the deeper parts of my heart. The parts that can only be found when I unplug and spend day after day taking walks & playing games with my family.

Memorial

2011-03-04T20:22:00.001+03:00

Today is the memorial service for my friend, Azin Dehi Jones.

What on earth does one write after a sentence like that?

Death is always a surprise. This one was shocking. Numbing in it's suddenness. Tragic in it's cause. And the news of her death has washed over me in a way that has given my heart a jerk whenever I think of her. Peace in my faith of seeing her again.

Today is the memorial service for my friend, Azin. One of those people who so permeated a period of time in my life that the memory of her seems current, recent. I haven't seen Azin in 15 years. I could still pick out her laughter in a room full of people though. I can tell you exactly what we talked about the last time we met. And I can remember several inconsequential dailiness type of details about her from the period of time we were the most close. And, as per human nature, I am wondering what ever kept me from being more deliberate in maintaining that friendship.

So today, of all days, I am remembering Azin. Praying for her husband. Praying for her sisters & mother. Thankful to have known her in my 16 year old life. Wishing to still have her present in my 40 year old world.

My Town: Your Eyes..."Slumming It"

2011-02-22T17:39:00.012+03:00

Aunt Lee and Sarah

There are not many of us who would choose to cross streams of human waste. Few of us would venture into rocky construction zones of filth in order to visit a child's school. That's precisely what my Aunt Lee did her first week in Nairobi.

Chaotic. Reeking. Hot. Dusty. Filthy. Crowded. Stared at. Insecure. Hovels. Poverty up close. Broken roads. Mud. Rock mixed with human waste. Food smells. People smells. Animal smells. Fire smells. Body smells. It's the smells that get to you...

But they didn't get to Aunt Lee. She was determined to spend the day with a young girl she sponsors through Child Fund International. She (and a small parade of staff from the organization) visited Sarah's school, neighborhood & home. Together they had tea, sang songs, visited and exchanged gifts. Neither my Aunt Lee nor Sarah will ever forget the day they had together.

A picture is worth a thousand words. The pictures below tell the story better than I ever could.

A front door

A businesswoman

School friends

Singing songs for the visitors

Aunt Lee visiting in Sarah's home

At the end of the day, no matter who you are or where you
may live, cleanliness matters. Laundry drying at a home
in the slum.

My Town: Your Eyes

2011-02-21T21:51:00.003+03:00

Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness. ~Ray Bradbury

And I have been very busy over the past 3 weeks trying to indulge my family in that feeling of lostness that

equates to half the fun of travel. Which, as it turns out, is not such a difficult task to do while living in

Africa. My visiting family (Mom & step-dad~ Darrell & Anne Brown, as well as my Aunt Lee) have soaked up every experience and squeezed out all that they could of this new culture. They have tasted, touched, seen & yes, even smelled the corner of the world that I call home. And for a time, the lostness that it takes to experience a new culture can be delightful.

My aunt loved the magazine beaded jewelry she
bought from Damiana.

One of the most enjoyable things for me, who no longer feels that sense of "lostness" in this corner of the world, is seeing my world through their eyes. Of standing back and waiting for them to snap thier pictures of what has become the backdrop of my life. My familiar is their "Fantastic!!". And that is really, really fun.

George sold them SEVERAL of his whimsical beaded items.

Pictures of what, to them, is the quintessential fiber and fabric of this world. And they're right. These photos ARE the fabric that makes up this world. To me, it's just where I shop...weekly. Oddly enough, out of hundreds of vendors at this weekly craft market, my family took photos of 3 of my favorite vendors. The ones I don't bother to bargain with because we've reached price "understandings". (Kindly, these vendors extended these prices to my family as well).

My family is going home with more treasures than they could have imagined possible. The market is bursting with the most unique and colorful handmade items.

Anne's embroidery is truly a masterpiece.

But the real treasures I believe that my family will take home from this trip is having seen a part of the world unlike any place they've ever been. Rubbing shoulders with people who don't always speak their language but who hold the same things dear. My family may have shopped at the Masai Market (frequently!) and picked up an abundance of prized possessions to show their friends but they also went deep into parts of this city that many travelers do not see.

In future posts I'll share with you their photos of the underbelly of Nairobi (the slums) and the majesty of Kenya (safari at the base Kilimanjaro). Places where any traveler would garner fistfuls of experiential treasures.

My (current) world through their eyes. And in experiencing the newness of this world alongside them, the treasure becomes all mine.

It is not down in any map; true places never are. ~Herman Melville

Loss

2011-02-03T15:09:00.000+03:00

We lost a member of our community this week. She was a wife & a mother to 4 precious children. She, like all of us, had her highs and lows of living and raising children in an overseas post. She, like all of us, struggled to make friends here both for herself & her family. She, like all of us, had to frequently choose whether the cup-of-the-day was half full (...or half empty).

I have not known how (or even IF) to address this on my blog. There has been a quietness surrounding the illness of and loss of One Of Our Own. This quietness has been confusing to me. I've wondered if the community in which the family lives has been purposefully quiet in order to maintain the family's privacy (commendable). I've found that the family itself has also been quiet. Leading those who surround them to maintain that hush, hush privacy. The "it's not my place to say" or "I don't want to dig where I'm not meant to" mentality. Again, commendable.

So, now. One Of Our Own has passed. And sadly, a community that could have immediately risen up and embraced this family isn't sure what to do. A community that is chock-full of families that can (and regularly do) absorb the highs and lows of their friends and neighbors, is quiet. Is wondering what to do, IF they should do anything for a family they've lived beside for XXX number of years, or if they should just let things go along as they have been. Quietly.

It's true that a family sets their own dynamics and somewhat dictate the way they should be treated. This particular one is reserved by nature. There's nothing wrong with that. We all are, the way we are. And now, a community of people who have hardly known a family that is now dealing with great sadness, is not exactly sure about the best way to breach that sense of, "I hardly know them" and whether or not to dive headlong into the deepest & most personal circle of neighbor's life. Their loss.

You can see it's even causing me some confusion. I have not named for you the family or any tell tale details that would allow you who do not live within my community to know enough to do anything. It's not my place to be a megaphone of someone else's pain. It is my place to stand in a gap when invited to do so. I've been invited by the husband to do a few small things that he believes would be helpful. Nothing I can do feels like near enough.

Pray for this family.

Ummm. THAT was awkward...

2011-01-21T18:49:00.000+03:00

It's no secret that if you live in Africa (and most other FS posts as well) you employ people in your home. I can't think of even one person I know who does not have at least one employee working for them. Some homes employ (no joke) up to 5 people. But the bottom line is that everyone hires someone at some point. Like it or lump it, you're going to do it.

With having staff working in your home there are a lot of big and small decisions to make (do they live in or out? How to handle loans? How to handle school fees? How to compensate during maternity leave/illness/funerals?) And sometimes there are major decisions to make (when is enough enough and you decide to fire someone? What if you discover that there is stealing? What if the gardener is smooching on the housekeeper?...it happens...). And there is also just the fact of daily life that someone is always "there".

This week it seems as if there has been a high level of dramatics in the homes of my friends. One home is experiencing such a high level of tribalism that the housekeeper has been so busy trying to get the gardener fired that she finally did the worst thing she could think of. She said that he had entered her room and stolen a large sum of money. Guess who got fired instead for lying?

Ahhh, there are LOTS of crazy stories that come up. And with each story I hear I am so grateful that the people we employ are kind. Are trustworthy. Are conscientious. Are of different tribes but choose to get along.

But this post is about something awkward. It's about a woman who works for someone I know who came to me at school pick up and asked me in a whispery quiet voice, "Will you please help me to find a job?" But you HAVE a job. "Yes, but I am not happy". Have you said so to ________? "Yes, but she does not listen". How long have worked there? "Nearly 3 years". How much do you make? "XXXX" (less than half of what my housekeeper makes. Barely enough to live on. Hardly enough to eat, pay rent & pay school fees. An insanely LUDICROUSLY low amount). Do you receive regular pay increases? "I have not had one yet".

So, this woman that I see on the playground daily but whose name I did not know until today, is asking me (in secret) to find work for her with another family. Another family whose children go to the same school as her current family. I explained how awkward and tense that would make things for her current employer as well as this new family. I just could not help except to encourage her to be honest with ________ and to ask for a higher wage. Like one that allows her to eat EVERY day, perhaps?

But in truth, I know that she could do a lot better financially with any of the 5 families that I know who are looking for someone to lovingly care for their children when they are at work, for someone to help them navigate the cultural mores of this country while doing their weekly marketing, to help keep the floors clean on a regular basis. I wish I could help her. But I can't. Too awkward.

As an aside, and this is just my personal soapbox, if I hear "Mrs.So&So" refer to the 4 people who kindly serve her in her home of "X" number of people (the majority of which are little rascals under the age of 10ish) for longer than the average work week for less pay than one would expect, as "These People" one more time I might just slap her.

In an effort to keep the employee/employer relationship boundaries I think that there are a fair amount of us who disregard the basic core humanity of the individuals who work for us. Paying too little and expecting too much. Not providing the necessary items for comfortably living in the staff cottage if they choose to. Referring to them (or ANYONE for that matter) as "these people".

I for one have read "The Help". I know how it goes for the girl who referred to "these people", treated them badly and expected too much. I for one do not want to ever have to wonder what is in my chocolate pie. I will continue to pay too much and refer to our employees by their names and with respect.

It goes a long way to making sure that one day they will not stand on the playground weeping to one of my acquaintances asking them to help them find another job.

Stepping off the soapbox now.

Community

2011-01-15T14:10:00.000+03:00

Today I ran into the dad of one of our boy's school buddies. We were both dropping our 2nd graders off for a birthday party when I asked if his son could come over for a sleepover this weekend. I haven't seen his wife for sometime and I know that she's had a few minor medical issues that have made this year a challenge. She was medevac-ed to ______ a while back. I've lost track of time I guess because when I asked how she was doing with *minor health issue* I was floored to hear that in fact it is a *major health issue*. As in, not cognizant.

How many times can one say,
"Oh, I am so sorry".
And "how are you doing?"
And "how are the kids handling this?"

We planned the sleepover for the boys and I pulled my car away to head home to be with my husband and my youngest son. To prepare a little birthday celebration for my husband. To count my blessings that we're here. Together. Celebrating. Healthy. Happy. Thankful, so thankful.

Which got me to thinking. How on earth is it that I had never heard that *minor* was not the appropriate word regarding the wife's health? We have kids in the same school. We live and work within the same community. I don't expect to be in the know about the ins and outs of everyone's family life (nor do I want to be). But when something IMPORTANT happens I think that the nature of a community is to draw in tight around one of their own. Perhaps this is happening within the compound that this family lives on. I'm doubtful.

But this is major stuff...and I didn't know that it would be helpful to invite these kids to go swimming with us. I didn't know to ask this husband who is now (temporarily) single parenting 3 girls to ask if I can help get them the items they need for Brownies next week. There are a million ways that a community can lift up and support one of their own. And a large majority of this community ~I believe~ are clueless. Or are clued in and choosing to not discuss it in order to avoid gossiping. This is certainly commendable. But not a way to make sure needs are met.

So, here and now, I want to say that if I am ever in a seriously difficult state, GOSSIP about me! Please! Talk to your friends! Speculate! Tsk, tsk, your tongues! In so doing you will spread the word that help is needed in the Lee home and perhaps you could be the one to....invite my children over for sleepovers, take my boys out for ice cream, absorb my family as part of your own for a time.

Community. Drawing in tight and close. One area where smaller posts may just win out over larger ones.

City Mugs

2011-01-13T17:35:00.002+03:00

Have you ever made an expensive mistake? I just did.

We, by nature of our nomadic lifestyle (and non-pack-rat natures) are not collectors. But in the last couple of years we've begun picking up the Starbucks city mugs in international cities we travel through. It's a very tiny collection so far. Greece, Paris, Istanbul, San Francisco (which IS international since it's several thousand miles from my home).

One day I was looking around on the Starbucks web site thinking I'd buy a few from other countries we've been to but not bothered to buy a mug in. That's when I found out you can't buy them on-line. Which just makes them that much more necessary somehow. So I turned to the ever helpful ebay to see what was available. Dwaine peered over my shoulder at this point and this decidedly non-collector really got into looking over all of the cool designs. In fact, some of the mugs made him want to travel to the cities/countries for the purpose of getting the cool mug. Such as these ones...

So, sensing that he would enjoy collecting these little bits of art and travel memorobilia, I purposed to begin filling in gaps in our coffee cabinet. For his birthday (which is this week) I purchased this one. No big deal.

We'll only drink champagne out of this. Most expensive

drinking utensil in our home.

EXCEPT THAT IT COST ME $60!

I should not be permitted to shop on ebay without adult supervision. I should learn to do currency calculations in my head. I should not peruse when distracted by my 2 adorable little monsters home from school on Christmas break. Because I just bought the most expensive coffee mug I possibly could. Then, I paid the postal system of England to kindly ship my mug to America. Where it will be kindly shipped right back across the Atlantic to my post office in Kenya.

No more collections. No more ebay. No more Starbucks city mugs unless we physically walk into the store and speak to a person who can make us a frappacino while we wait for them to wrap our mug.

Happy birthday, Honey. Hope you like your mug. I'm sorry I can't afford to buy any coffee to go in it.

Not Wrong, Just Different

2011-01-11T13:13:00.002+03:00

I don't know a lot about cars. But I do know enough to ask questions when I see a car battery turned upside-down on top of a storm drain. Here is how the conversation in our front yard with our driver went this morning.

**As a bit of background, you should know that we have been storing a colleague's truck on our property until his arrival next month. Our driver has been working hard to get it running & takes it a bit personally that we have a non-functional but perfectly good truck in his proximity. He washes it regularly and is always fussing in the engine.**

Me: Frederick, is that the truck battery?

Frederick: Yes, madam.

Me: Why is it outside of the truck & lying upside down?

Frederick: It is wet. The acid is on it.

Me: ACID? How did it get acid on it? (Secretly wondering if said acid just got washed down the storm drain).

Frederick: (with an "I'll educate you about this important car fact" tone) Well, when a car is parked for a time, the battery is drained. Then when one wants to drive the car again the battery is filled with acid.

***Here you should also know that the car was parked by the previous owner in August to await it's new owner's arrival next month. 2 months ago we tried to move the car from one housing compound to ours in order to keep a better eye on it. At that time, we found the car difficult to start & determined that the problem was the battery. We have been busy price comparing and procuring a new battery.***

Me: Do you suppose the reason the car would not start before was because it has been drained of battery acid?

Frederick: Yes, it is possible.

Me: Is it possible that the car would be running now if the battery had never been drained?

Frederick: Yes, it is possible.

Me: Did the previous owner drain the battery, Frederick, or did you?

Frederick: I did, madam.

Me: Oh. Ok. Frederick?

Frederick: Yes?

Me: Please, don't ever drain the acid out of our car battery while we are away for the summer? And, should you find that for some reason a battery MUST be drained, please don't drain it into the storm drain.

Frederick: OK, madam. I shall leave the battery locked on your car.

I am filing this conversation, as I file many conversations here, under the title "It's Not Wrong; It's Just Different".

12 Years? Already?

2011-01-10T15:54:00.000+03:00

When I was young, single & broken-hearted over some oh-so-wonderful-not-quite-the-one guy, someone said to me, "Naoma, the guy you want isn't going to fall out of the sky". Then she went on to name a half dozen places where the guy for me was probably spending time.

She was wrong on both counts. Not only was he not studying in seminary or a busy young pastor (her sights for me were not exactly what came to pass). He absolutely did fall out of the sky.

In December 1998 I was part of an interview team that interviewed Dwaine to be one of my grade level teaching partners. He had not been available that previous September because he was in the Peace Corps, not seminary. Not a pastor, but the son of one. He impressed me so much on that winter day that I immediately thought of all the single girlfriends I had that I could set him up with. Then, greedy little me, kept him all for myself.

Can you spot the 4th grade teaching team?
Within one year the teachers would become bride, groom & maid of honor.

In one respect this friend of mine was correct. He was far superior to any other man I'd ever met, dated & given a piece of my heart to. The spring after he'd arrived to teach at our school I gave him my heart completely and have never asked for it back. Nor do I ever intend to.

Happy 12th anniversary, Dwaine. I'd say yes again.

Sssssnakes....

2011-01-01T09:55:00.000+03:00

A visit to the Nairobi National Museum's Snake Park can bring about 2 very different results.

The expected result is that after looking at the world's most poisonous snakes, my 2 young boys would want to avoid snakes. I thought that somehow seeing snakes that have to be kept behind glass because if they sink their teeth into you it would result in instant death, would result in the desire to stay really far away from snakes. I sort of thought that actually seeing the gigantic python recently found in a yard that neighbors the boy's school (now a resident of the snake park) would amaze them so much that it would cause a healthy fear. I expected that watching long, slithery, curving, wide-mouthed snakes climbing vertical walls of the "snake pit" in order to get a closer glimpse of these boys (no doubt the snakes were wondering if they were edible), would garner a life long respect for the distance that exists between snakes and people.

Those were NOT the results of our visit to the Snake Park today.

Within 15 minutes of being home from the museum-of-deadly-poisonous-stop-your-heart-in-seconds-so-don't-ever-handle-snakes, the boys brought me this. (I think they may have misinterpreted the message of the day because I'm fairly certain they touched it...a lot).

"Snakey". Rhymes with "Can we keep it?"

REAL Green Mamba. Can be found here

I suppose that we had a 50/50 chance. A 50% chance that "Snakey" wasn't the small but deadly local snake known as a green mamba. Or a 50% chance that we were going to be speeding to the hospital hoping for the doctor's at Aga Khan Hospital to have the right anti-venom (and necessary knowledge) to keep my kids alive.

Erik and "Snakey". No. You cannot keep it.

So, at the end of the day, we can count our blessings that this green snake is just like any average garden snake and that it did not try to kill us. I do think that we need to have a repeat lesson about snakes though. When we first arrived here we talked about (and even role played) what to do if you find a snake in the yard. 1) Stop & stand very still.

2) Slowly back away

3) RUN and tell an adult

I think they forgot steps 1-3 and added a step 4. Catch it and fight over who gets to keep it in their room.

House Hunters

2010-12-29T20:28:00.000+03:00

We don't own much of anything.

Our homes are provided for us at post. (We don't own a house).
The homes we move into from post to post are furnished for us. (We don't own much furniture).
Road conditions & car requirements are different from country to country (We buy and resell cars frequently).
We limit our pet to person ratio because we'll leave soon and pets are expensive to move.
We limit our book/toy/stuff quotient because if you own it you've got to count it in your shipping allowance.

We don't own much of anything.

But soon, we'd like to own a house. We sort of feel like late bloomers in the respect that we don't own property. Afterall, the majority of our friends our age and position in life own a house. Many of them (you) are on your 2nd or 3rd homes. There's something about buying a house that just seems like part of growing up.

So we often talk about where to buy property when the time comes. We have fun shopping on sites like trulia, watching shows like International House Hunters, or Flip This House. We've always thought that we'd buy our first place in California and use it as a rental property. That's a possibility. But tonight we played a fun little comparitive shopping game. We looked at homes in a good community in North Carolina (home of Dwaine's alma mater) and found that for a very reasonable (some would say CHEAP!) price we could get this.

Compare now to what is near one of my alma maters.

This home is a full 2,300 sq feet smaller and nearly the same price as the North Carolina home. But it DOES come with the added benefit of really, really, really close proximity to neighbors.

I know I'm not telling you folks who already own homes anything you don't already know. You all have already looked into housing costs, property taxes, proximity to work, proximity to extended family, proximity to ~~Target~~ really great schools and made your choices about where to buy your homes. We are new to this game and not quite ready to jump in just yet.

But we feel as if we have an odd advantage. We can buy a home that we have no intention of living in. It won't matter to us if it's close to our families since we'll never reside there. It won't matter to us if it's our "dream house" so long as it's SOMEONE'S dream rental property. We will, one day (hopefully sooner than later) become landlords at the same time that we become home owners.

This doesn't mean that we don't have dreams of the American home we'll one day retire to. (If you recall, Dwaine for the most part chooses our overseas posts...I will choose our retirement "post"). And the longer we're global nomads, the bigger my dreams seem to get....

FB Friend

2010-12-27T22:12:00.001+03:00

Do you want to know what I just discovered that I think is really cool?

The embassy in Skopje, Macedonia has a Facebook page. (Skopje was home to our family for a time and a piece of our hearts still lives there). That's cool in and of itself (except that it has yet to accept my friend request...). I went on to discover that several embassies around the world have FB pages. Don't look for Kenya though. Apparently, we are too cool for FB. (Or possibly, and more likely, we are too recently bombed by terrorists to willingly put any pertinent information on the internet).

But what I think is really cool is that the Macedonian embassy recently hosted a call for artwork. They held a huge art contest where anyone who currently called Macedonia "home" could submit a photo that met the following theme: "What Do Diversity And Inclusiveness Mean To You?" The top 10 were then voted on by the number of "likes" they got on the embassy FB page. This is the picture that won:

By Marija Smokvarska. Image found here.

Stumbling on this FB page, and on this photo contest, and on this photo (of a corner I find familiar in a town I called home) has made me smile. Seeing photos of an ambassador (and a Mrs. Ambassador) that we felt particularly fond of and even friendly with (when we left he threw a dinner party for us...as he does for many others).

It's also made me think about something I haven't thought about for a few months now. The slight and severe differences between large posts and small posts; European posts and African posts; the green grass on this side of the fence and the green grass on that side of the fence. I am at home here in Kenya...a phrase I couldn't say for over a year. And the more familiar that I find myself becoming with the roads and alleys here in Nairobi the harder it is for me to mentally picture the paths I drove on a daily basis in my Balkan home. And I'm finding that the more I'm moving forward, the less I'm reaching back. That's a good thing. A survival instinct that is required for this lifestyle.

But every once in awhile, the old friend that you never expected to see again and perhaps had not thought about in some time, just shows up. This time my old Balkan friend showed up on FB and I was so happy to see it again.

The Day After

2010-12-26T21:36:00.000+03:00

What does the expat wife do the day after Christmas? After she and her expat kids and expat honey have been in the house for 2.5 days solid? After all of the gifts have been watched, played with, loved on & fully enjoyed? After the food coma is over and the fire in the fireplace has burned down to a soft glow?

She rearranges all of the furniture!

*Today...the living room!
*Tomorrow...the TV/playroom.
*Next week...guest room #1 (#2 is unalterable. But it is PAINTABLE). Because we've got some guests on their way! My parents and Aunt Lee are coming to see us soon. Can hardly wait!

And also, on this day after Christmas, the expat wife rests from all of her hustle & bustle (ask me how I cooked a 15 pound turkey without a functioning oven...). And spends the day appreciating friends and family from so far away who felt so close by. Sweet and thoughtful gifts, long skype conversations & the fact that they are always with us in our hearts made the distance on this Christmas week not feel so far away at all.

Merry day after Christmas from our (rearranged) house to yours. The new arrangement allows for more seating so feel free to come over and stay awhile. Bring a few friends. We'd love to get to know them.

NKL

**Photos of new arrangement AFTER the tree is down. The big, comfy chair goes in that corner but I've been told by the other expats living in this home that the day after Christmas is just way too early to take down the tree. Pictures later...**

Car of the Year

2010-12-22T14:36:00.001+03:00

My driver is well into his late 50's. This week he bought his own car for the very first time. This morning he drove it in to work (typically he takes the local transportation). He spent the morning washing it, vacuuming the upholstry and fiddling in the engine. It looks like this.

He is as proud of his car as any 16 year old boy might be about a sports car he's been given for a graduation gift. So proud in fact that when the boys and I walked out of the house ready to go to the community swimming pool for the day (yes, it is that warm here in late December) he asked if we could please take his car rather than ours.

You bet! I figured he wanted to show his car to his friends and colleagues in the embassy driver community. So you can imagine my surprise when, in the course of conversation about his new treasured vehicle, I asked what is a standard question to ask most folks who buy a new-to-them car.....

What

Year

Is It?

I think he must have misheard me. I think he thought I asked...

What

Is The

Way to

end

World

Hunger?

Because his answer...the answer of this man who has made driving his profession for at least 25 years & who has just bought his first car EVER...answered this way.

I Don't Know.

It's such a small thing. And in the end doesn't make a huge difference . I mean, the car does run, does it not? One does not need to know when it's birthday is, per se, in order to appreciate it's functionality. (As an aside, my driver also is unaware of his own birthday. One can see why his car's "birthday" is not a top priority).

It's just that I've never heard of someone making a major first time purchase and not knowing the finite details of that which they are looking into buying. Even me, who couldn't point out a piston from a fan belt, knows that they exist somewhere within the vehicle being driven. And likely, if I'm going to buy a used car, will ask WHEN these things have been serviced.

Cultural differences abound in the overseas life. Some are big. Some are small. Today I discovered that a small one is that I am a product of a society of hyper-researchers (my husband being the king of them all) who go to great lengths to make informed decisions. I happen to be living in a society that just makes decisions...and then hope for the best.

Hoping

For The

Best!

(I'm going to have a bumper sticker made for his new car with this phrase on it).

Lost & Found...#50

2010-12-21T10:56:00.002+03:00

This week I reached a fun milestone and wanted to celebrate!

I noticed that I had 50 "followers" of this blog. (.."followers"..I don't care a great deal for that word choice). And since I'm always looking for a fun reason to send little tastes of Kenya to others I found this as good a reason as any to share what is one of my favorite things about Kenya...

Nairobi Java House...my home away from home.

So I called out to #50 and asked them to speak up. I'd like to send them something to thank them for taking time to read my ramblings. I was surprised to learn that #50 is actually the same as my #1. My very first blog follower that is. She dropped out of the blog-o-sphere for a time. When she came back into the journaling world she stopped by my blog...and became #50 on my sidebar. So she was #1, then she was gone, now she's #50. Make sense? I know...I need a cuppa something too. How about this?

She gets her prize for caring to come back for a 2nd round. But since I can't sit down and treat her to a nice hot cup of Java's Malindi Chai Latte or a hot double cappuccino, I'll do the next best thing.

She NEEDS this prize! She's new to USAID, living in Santo Domingo with 2 small kids, a teenager & a DH. Life is easier anywhere in the world when you have Java House coffee to look forward to (I think I share that sentiment with a lot of people!) You can find her blog here.

Ayana, come to Kenya. The coffee is better in the country from which it originates! But until then, enjoy this small token of appreciation for stopping in to visit my blog every once in awhile and saying hello.

Calling on #50

2010-12-20T11:25:00.000+03:00

Helloooooo "Pillars of Peace" blogger! You are officially the 50th follower of my blog! I'd like to thank you for reading my blog by sending you some authentic Kenyan coffee (or tea if that's your preference).

Please email me at thelees@gmail.com so we can discuss where I should send your gift!

Karibu! Asante Sana!

Traditions

2010-12-19T18:34:00.108+03:00

Recently a friend of mine asked what our family Christmas traditions are. She and her husband are talking about how to spend the day to make it special...not just any "other" day. Her question has had me thinking a bit more about Christmas lately. What traditions do we have? And how did we come to them?

Snow Baby Connor. December 2002

My husband and I grew up with somewhat different Christmas traditions from one another. Small but specific things that made Christmas seem "complete". And over the past (near) 12 years we've had fun shaping and carving out what Christmas looks like in our home. We believe that the day is more about the birth of our Saviour than a day for Santa (although he gets a nod as well). But beyond the Christmas tree, wrapping paper & music there are some traditions that we both hold dear that "made" Christmas for us while growing up.

Dwaine was (is) a PK (pastor's kid). Which means that Christmas Eve was a BIG day for their family. Candlelight services on Christmas Eve where he and his 3 older sisters often played some sort of role. I have a treasure of a video of him playing one of these roles. As a bespectacled, toe-headed blonde 4th grader singing "I Am A Promise". Confident and cute (some things just don't change). Then they would come home to open gifts until late into the night. They would usually serve cold cuts, salad & bowls of chili (things that could quickly be served by his mom, the busy pastor's wife). Before opening gifts the youngest male child who was able to read has the honor of reading the Christmas story aloud for everyone. That tradition has made it's way from Dwaine as a 1st grader, through several male nephews & now down to our boys. During the night, Santa would deliver gifts and fill the stocking for young Dwaine to open in the morning. One year his mom whimsically labeled all of the gifts with "clues" for the names (ie For: born in Portland, From: born in Los Angeles, CA **= to Dwaine from his dad**) so each person had to guess who the gift was for. Now it's a tradition that everyone does. On Christmas day Dwaine remembers having the whole day to just enjoy his toys & then having a big traditional dinner with sisters and an ever growing family. Part of their Christmas dinner for a number of years was home made tamales (given as a gift from one of the church members). Over the years the family has added new spouses, grandchildren & great-grandchildren which makes the festivities that much more fun. I love Christmas at his home where I got the first taste of what celebrating on Christmas EVE was like.

I grew up with one of the most creative moms on earth. She always had at least one "made" gift for me under the tree. Most of which were opened on Christmas DAY. On Christmas Eve I got to open 2 gifts (the first was always new pajamas). Most Christmases were spent with my dear Aunt Lee visiting. I loved falling asleep on Christmas Eve listening to she and my mom talking and laughing in the living room while I tried to fall asleep (which was soooo hard since my bedroom had a distant but direct view of the colored lights on the Christmas tree). In the morning I would wake up too early for any earthly adult to be required to endure. But my mom was always patient. I was allowed to go get my stocking (now full to the brim) and bring it quietly to her room where she watched me open each little treasure. After the sun came up, and the coffee was made we'd sit down to open gifts together. Once she married my step-father, the tradition of enjoying delicious, hot, sweet cinnamon rolls with our coffee while we open our Christmas gifts was added. It feels as if he (and cinnamon rolls) have always been a part of our Christmas traditions. Later in the day we'd join with my cousins, uncle and aunt for a Christmas feast & MORE presents. This was the one night I would always get my favorite vegetable (peas). My mother hates them so my aunt would make them especially for me. Along with her German red cabbage and platters full of the most delicious traditional Christmas foods. At some point or another Uncle Bill would pull out the guitar or sit down to the piano and we'd all sing Christmas carols. But there's a lot of Navy in our family...we'd always end up singing this one particular silly *Navy song. As the night went on and grown ups laughed and chatted my cousins and I would wander back to the den for movies and playing. And as a very small girl, I'd usually fall asleep and have to be carried to the car by Uncle Bill. A full and happy Christmas day.

Christmas 1978. Aunt Ute, Leslie, Uncle Bill & Tina

5 year old Naoma, Uncle Bill and cousin Leslie singing Christmas carols.

I love my family. I love the Christmases we had together while we were growing up. It seems like we went really quickly from opening Barbies to being mothers with children of our own to create Christmas memories with. I loved listening to the grown ups laugh, talk, debate, sing & just enjoy being together. I felt safe and loved. I love my husband's family and the way the hustle and bustle warmly wraps me in. I also love that, in the spirit of fun, when a certain fiance entered the Christmas Eve festivities they had somehow convinced him that according to ancient Norwegian tradition, after opening the gifts they all held hands and danced around the Christmas tree. (They don't. But they did THAT night...and had a good laugh on Dave). And that every once in awhile my father in law will wrap a gift for himself and put it under the tree. The tag ususally says "From Santa. You've been a very good boy".

We have not traveled home for a California Christmas in 6 years. Our Christmas in Uganda (celebrated in a temporary apartment) was our first non-extended family Christmas. We were surprised to find that it was actually fun to try to mesh our traditions together and to watch them morph into what are now our own traditions. My creative mother made each of the boys a gorgeous Advent calender that she stocks each year. They love counting down to Christmas this way. We always have cold cuts and soup on Christmas Eve after going to an evening service. We hang and stuff stockings. We open 2 gifts on Christmas Eve (one of which is pajamas). And every year the youngest male who can read shares the Christmas story. This year, the torch passes to Erik. (Since Connor's reign was a bit short we may alter the tradition to be odd and even years). We started making gingerbread houses each year as well that they boys get to nibble off of the week before Christmas. I'll make hot cinnamon rolls and a big pot of coffee for the morning and will likely welcome 2 little boys and their stockings into our room in the pre-daylight hours. We'll have a ginormous meal mid-day and hopefully exercise a little (but I'm not making any promises).

Finished Gingerbread House. Can you find the
Star Wars figure building a snowman?

And if I can recall the lyrics, we will teach our children to follow up their carol singing with a few rousing Navy songs that I sang while growing up. That information just may give them the extra edge when applying to the Academy. If not, it will surely make it into their own list of Christmas traditions they recall in future years.

Writing about how our family has carved and sculpted Christmas to be a special season for us makes me wonder how other families have taken this particular season (different in every home) and made it their very own for their family. I'm thinking particularly my Foreign Service friends and missionary friends who seldom spend the season with extended family.

What is Christmas like in your home? What have you added that was not a part of your growing up celebrations?

***Lyrics***

My gal's a corker,

She's a New Yorker,

I buy her everything

to keep her in style.

She's got a pair of hips

Just like two battleships.

Hey, boys

That's where my money goes!

Frequently followed by "Anchors Aweigh". Christmas...different in each and every home.

Cooking Stones

2010-12-19T08:00:00.000+03:00

A blogging friend of mine (who also lives here in Nairobi) posted this true story on her blog this week. I think it will touch you as it touched me so I wanted to share it with you.

http://welsien.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-17-2010-cooking-stones.html

NKL

Postcard from Paradise

2010-12-16T10:33:00.001+03:00

My sunburn is fading but I'm still glowing!

Dwaine and I went on a first ever "Grown-Ups Only" trip together while living in Kenya. Actually, while living ANYWHERE for that matter. Other than having grandparents watch them for an occasional overnight date, we really haven't gone on a vacation sans kids before. And we were overdue for an escape.

Nothing as refreshing as fresh coconut milk.

Relaxing on our porch. Overlooking ocean and infinity pool.

We flew to Mombasa and stayed at beautiful resort called The Voyager. For 4 and a half days our biggest decisions to make were which of the 3 pools to spend the day reading and resting by and what umbrella-fied drinks to sip on poolside. I cannot think of a more marvelous way to while away time on a sunny December day than sitting beside Dwaine in a tropical get away. Except possibly snorkeling with him in the starfish laden Indian Ocean...which we did.

We came home to 2 happy little boys who had been well cared for while we were away. And we have now jumped into the Christmas season with both feet & a happy and relaxed disposition. We just might have ourselves a new family tradition...maybe next time we'll think of including the boys...or not.

So, I Went To The Mall....

2010-12-05T01:53:00.002+03:00

...and met these American girls. We got to chatting and I found out that they were a part of a really big and amazing 11 month ministry trip that would go to 11 different countries. I was fascinated by their stories & so happy to have met them that I decided to invite them over for dinner. They'll tell you that they were refreshed and blessed by being in our home. But I assure you that the blessing was all ours. These young women are full of joy, amazing stories & incredible insights. I had a blast spending time with them & felt as if I'd known them forever.

But Tracy tells the story so well so let me let her tell it to you. (While you're visiting her blog also take the time to visit some of the others she's travelling with. Particularly Carrie Campbell, Kirsten George, & Emily Moss).

http://tracyhagar.theworldrace.org/?filename=a-dream-come-true&bookmark=true#comments

As it turns out, one of the girls who joined us for dinner that night liked her time in Nairobi so well that she decided to stay with us just a bit longer. Carrie lost her passport and discovered the loss on the day the rest of the team of 41 others were departing for Thailand. She will be able to get a temporary passport as of Monday but is staying with us through the weekend until she can get into the embassy to take care of things. We have loved having her and her squad leader, Garrett, here with us! What fantastic people they are!

Neighborly

2010-11-30T15:15:00.000+03:00

This summer our compound emptied itself of half of it's residents. Foreign Service families move a lot. So it's no great shock to the system to leave and have the XYZ Family be your neighbors only to return to find that the ABC Family has moved into their home. We are used to this.

The really fun part for us is meeting all of the new families as they arrive on our compound. Where the O's lived, there is now a family with 4 kids & 2 dogs. Where the M's lived there is now the embassy doctor (could come in handy...). Just yesterday a new family arrived with 2 boys a bit older than our boys. This afternoon a family with 2 young boys will move into the last empty home on our compound. They'll only live there long enough for the home being made ready for them to be completed. But for a time, all 8 of our compound homes will be filled. And that seems cozy to me.

I think I'll buy 2 boxes of cinnamon rolls from Stella and take them down to our new neighbors to welcome them to their new homes.

When I talk with friends in the states about life in Kenya the thing that seems to most intrigue them is life on a compound. It's like a nieghborhood...but not like a neighborhood at the same time. Our compound is 8 entirely stand alone homes with separate yards. The houses all have their own walls and gates around them. The compound of homes has a security gate that we must all pass through to get to our own house. And within those 8 house plots you can be as private or as open as a family that you wish. Close the gates, no one comes in. Open them and you've got instant playdates. It's safe enough within the compound to let your kids run around visiting or playing without being even slightly concerned about safety. I often don't know exactly where the boys are but am certain that they are fine. There is no stranger danger since there are actually no strangers. The only danger is that my boys and the neighbor boys may start to slug it out over who gets to keep "Speedy" the neighborhood tortoise in their yard for the night.

Last year we were a compound that had cook outs and happy hours together. This year that hasn't quite taken off. But we and our across the street neighbors, The B's, have high hopes as these new families arrive. A warm box of cinnamon rolls should warm them up to the idea of joining our two families for some laughs around the outdoor firepit. What's a compound after all if not for a little extra neighborliness?

Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T22:39:00.001+03:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

And in my somewhat short (yet highly eventful) life I am finding that the list of blessings that I have to count is growing longer all the time. I am deeply thankful this year for things that, in past years, I've counted as blessings...and then quickly passed over. But tonight, on the eve of Thanksgiving 2010, I am treasuring each of these tiny blessings more than I have before. And holding them close to my heart as I thank the God who gave them to me.

Tonight, I am grateful.....

~for my husband who loves me and whom I adore.
~for our children who are God's gift to us. (goofy, quirky, uncouth & ours, all ours!)
~for health and strength of my body, mind and spirit.
~for the encouragement and support of family even though so far away.
~for the love of a God who not only provides for my daily needs but also graciously gives more than I need.
~for friendships that strengthen, challenge, & encourage me.
~for the chiseling and growth that has been taking place in my life.
~for protection & safety in what can be a dangerous world
~for eyes that are being opened wider to the beauty that surrounds me here in Nairobi
~for eyes that are being opened wider to the needs that surround me in Nairobi, a heart that desires to help, & new directions found in how to do that.

Tomorrow we'll join some friends (and about 100 of their friends) for a big Thanksgiving feast. But in truth, I feel as if I've been feasting all day as I've just spent the day turning over in my heart all of the treasures that have been given to me.

I haven't been feasting so much that there isn't just a little more room for some turkey & pumpkin pie however....

Silence

2010-11-09T19:33:00.000+03:00

I do realize that things at LeesOnTheGo have been a bit quiet lately. Many of you have kindly reached out to me to ask if all is well. And it is. There just are some things that sometimes come into our daily lives that are not fodder for blogs. Not to say, that I don't go through my daily life thinking, "Wow...THIS would be a terrific blog!" When I can think of a way to speak to the events of the past month in broad sweeping statements, I will. Until then...go read my last blog called "Oh, Rats!" and wonder aloud if you should avoid Africa altogether based on the size of the rodents here. (No. The answer should be no).

Oh, Rats!

2010-10-07T20:41:00.002+03:00

Last night just before my husband came home from work I was standing outside on our kitchen porch having a conversation on the phone (why OUTside, you ask? When the phone likely rang while you were IN the kitchen cooking dinner? It all has to do with the fact that I live in an entirely cement home in which lie a multitude of "black holes" where there is no coverage whatsoever. Not pertinent. Just interesting. When the phone rings I almost always have to go outside to answer it.) So, I'm outside while my chicken dish is getting scorched inside.

And across the driveway I see Chai, the wondercat, looking perplexed. Looking out of sorts. And I realize that what I thought was a long stick lying in the driveway was actually a LONG tail. And it was attached to an enormous rat. Clever Chai had been able to get the beast cornered but wasn't having much luck figuring out how to kill the darned thing.

I went out to find the gardener to come help my cat to kill/maime/trap this horrible creature. He (I was told) was showering in the staff quarters. Uggghhhhh. On my own. While I waited for the man with a rat-killing shovel, a lively discussion ensued with my housekeeper about the fact that some kids in America keep rats as pets. "But WHY?" was her logical question. "What do they DO with them?" Hold them. Take care of them, Play with them. "But they are rodents". Yes, I see the logic in that as well. (I didn't tell her that many American kids also keep snakes as pets. Which, in her mind, would be akin to letting a rabid dog curl up at the foot of our beds. Why would we ever consider keeping a pet that could kill you?)

We continue to wait for the gardener to bring his rat-killing-sized shovel. Meanwhile Chai has expertly chased this enormous rat toward a tall bush which it has swiftly climbed to the top of...and stopped. Holding on for it's dear little flea-bitten and rabid life. Chai sits at the bottom of the bush licking her paws and waiting for dinner to fall down to her. And we wait for the shovel to come knock the rat on the head and squish it's guts out. Meanwhile, I'm taking pictures of the rodent. Which is absolutely perplexing to Stella. Crazy white woman that I am, I do not care what she thinks about the fact that I am taking pictures of a common garden pest. By now I've called the children out. "Hey guys, come on out here! SCIENCE is about to happen! Chai is going to catch that rat and kill it. Yes, honey. Everyone has a job and THAT is Chai's job. Food Chain & the whole circle of life thing. Git it, Chai! Git it!"

Then the gardener came. Do you know what that crazy man did?

He did NOT come out with a shovel. No ax. Not a shotgun even! He saw exactly how ginormous this rat was and he looked at me, laughed, pulled the branch of the bush down closer to him...so he could reach up...grab it's tail...AND FLING THE RAT ACROSS THE DRIVEWAY. {What on God's green earth was this man thinking, I would like to know.} Chai chases rat; Rat cowers in corner, climbs all over my outdoor furniture, hisses at cat, poops all over the place, runs more, hides more, gets batted around by kitty cat claws for about an hour. The boys "watch science happening" until it gets a little boring. (They were, after all, cheering for the rat and asking to keep it as a pet).

The gardener who was of no help whatsoever, went back into the staff cottage to continue with his supper before leaving. I was left to my own devices. I scooped the fuzzball of ugliness using a butterfly catcher and intended to smash it against a wall. (I do not want letters from PETA people. You would've tried it too). I only succeeded in scooping it closer to myself and having to jump up on the outdoor couch to escape it scurrying over my sandaled feet. I screamed a lot. I swore a little. My boys laughed at me.

And in the end, the rat got away. Scrambled his huge rat haunches right back into the bushes from which he came. All before Daddy could come home. He knows where the shovel is and totally would have used it.

The next day I had me a little talkin' to with the gardener. Next time you see me jumping up on furniture, screaming, and begging you to smash the skulls of large rodents PLEASE do not fling the thing through the air for my cat to play with! Because where there is one rat, there are a kabillion more waiting for it to bring home some dinner.

Hopefully that rat was the courier for the rat tribe that lives on my compound. Hopefully he went home and told all his rat friends that there is a ferocious cat, crazy screaming woman, & a man who will throw them through the air. And may they never want to come and visit us.

PS~ Clearly I have over estimated the size of the rat. "Ginormous" is a bit of a stretch. But wouldn't you agree that any rat NOT in a cage is bigger than is acceptable in polite company?