Underpants Beach, and Other Things You Won't Find in Dubai

Ok, I'm a slacker. And to the 3 people who check in regularly to see if I've posted anything new, I offer my most heartfelt apologies (and urge you, again, to sign up for the email notification on the left, because I can't give you back the innumerable seconds of your life you might frequently waste while loading my unaltered page). You are good people. I, meanwhile, am a lowly jester who has run out of jokes.

No, I take that back; the jokes are still there, but the new material isn't. There's not much to write about when life is just plodding along at a normal pace. And so, I am silent. But I guess if there's a silver lining to my recent web absence, it's that no news is good news... heaven knows you would have heard about it (IN CAPS, PROBABLY) if anyone was sick, saddened, or incarcerated (equal probability, all).

So what's been going on, let's see. Well, I went AWOL for a few precious days and escaped from witch mountain ALL BY MYSELF, believe it or not. In order to attend a beloved childhood friend's wedding, I ditched the desert and spent about 48 glorious hours back in the contiguous United States. (No, I didn't tell you in advance that I was coming, but please don't take it personally, I just knew I wouldn't have time to make the rounds, I had heartsick toddlers to rush back to) (or so I thought, more on that later). Here are a few things about the USA that I suddenly realized I'd been desperately missing:

(1) electrical sockets in the bathroom (Why, oh WHY, Dubai, do you make me flat iron my hair on the bedroom floor?);

(2) Target ($9.99 swimsuits!);

(3) CVS (children's Tylenol, all forms!);

(4) squirrels (so cute and fluffy!);

(5) green grass, green treetops, green shrubs (sure, there are green things here, but they all seem so... master planned);

(6) Starbucks barristas who shoot the sh*t with you while brewing (it makes me feel so empty inside when they just look like they're there to do a *job*... don't they also want to be my FRIENDS?);

(7) fully paved roads, with nary an orange cone in sight (good LORD I am tired of road construction!!!!!);

(8) fellow News;

and of course

(9) gays (at one point I happened onto a park literally littered with semi-nude gay men, sunbathing like penguins on rocks, see photo above. Made me giddy as a schoolgirl. Dubai may have Jumeirah Beach, but what I really crave is Underpants Beach. Boys, how I've missed you!!!).

Overall, the trip was a smashing success: the wedding was delightful (Mazel tov, M & J!!), the weather was perfect, and apparently, the children undergo head transplants for the exact duration of my travels because my stealth reporters tell me that the kids might as well have hailed from Stepford, they were so well-behaved and well-adjusted while I was away. (Let it surprise no one, however, that within 10 minutes of my return, one screaming banshee was being dragged outside onto the sidewalk by her ear. Come on, little people, is it ME that drives you to the brink of toddler insanity?? You can tell me, I can handle it. And trust me, I can EASILY arrange to be out of town more often, if that's what you NEED me to do...)

Other quick family updates: Daddy is in Greece on business; PopPop has vowed to hit the gym on a daily basis for the rest of his natural-born life (Wolverine, watch your back!); Sushi now presents us with weekly "art shows" of surprisingly impressive quality; Screamer has finally mastered the letter "C" (Princeton Admissions office, we're back on track); and Baby will be taking her first steps any day now.

And staff updates: Z-Man continues to worry about his family, who are among the millions fleeing the Taliban in the Swat Valley of Pakistan (yikes); Alice is gearing up to go home next month and visit her young 2 sons; and Julia may, or may not, be coming to the end of her brief employ with us (at some point, the aggravation of diffusing the children's misplaced aggression towards her outweighs her overall usefulness, ya know?). Stay tuned...

So thanks again for popping by. Even though I don't write as often as I should, you're always on my mind. ;) xo.

No Children + Idyllic Beaches + Perfect Weather... Need I Say More?

Hello, how are you, I'm sorry it's been so long.  This time, however, I actually have a semi-legitimate excuse: Daddy and I were on VAY. CAY. SHON.  Our first!! vacation in more than 4 years.  And there were nooooooooooooo children in attendance.  So, as you can imagine, we could have vacationed in our local Starbucks and I probably would have been just as ecstatic at the prospect.

But instead of Starbucks, Daddy delivered something much, MUCH better-- he whisked me away to what *must* be one of the most visually spectacular locations on earth: the Maldives islands (where, come to think of it, there actually was no Starbucks at our resort, proving that even heaven could stand some improvements).  He and I did just about *nothing* for THREE WHOLE DAYS and it was the most glorious boredom ever.  Long live the overpriced cocktail and the perfectly-temperatured infinity pool!

I owe a tremendous portion of the thanks for the vacation to PopPop, who, with his self-annotated, seven-page, single-spaced handbook of Mommy-drafted instructions, held down the fort with magnificent ease (surely, the substantial pile of presents also helped; what toddler in her right mind can resist a good bribe when it's wrapped in shiny princess paper?).  PopPop navigated sports classes, swimming lessons, and even the unheard-of event of a kid having to stay home sick from school... all without breaking a (visible) sweat.  The daily reports he would send us over email were full of not only laugh-out-loud highlights from the children's day, but also, incredibly, assurances of order and tranquility that were believable enough to put my mind at ease.  Thus, to the extent that my sanity has been restored (or, more realistically, returned to a temporarily functional state), it's all the work of Daddy with his masterful planning, unparalleled companionship, and boundless generosity; and PopPop with his even-keeled grandfathering style and selfless commitment to ensuring that his daughter and son enjoyed a few days of uninterrupted blissful rejuvenation.  THANKS TO YOU BOTH FOR MY BEST VACATION EVER!!!

And now back to your regularly scheduled program: what else is new?  Well, Baby has suddenly taken to her infant sign language DVD like a duck to water, and is delighting us all with her increasingly effective communication skills.  Sushi's artwork has similarly been a source of great pride: even though she's only just turned 4, she can already sketch an entire scene complete with fully accessorized characters (the exaggerated eyelashes and the vertical hairdos get me every time) and surprisingly well-thought-out floor plans (ah, she might follow in Daddy's professional footsteps after all).  Screamer has been making terrific progress with identifying all the letters of the alphabet (curiously, she is often stumped by the letter "C," what's up with that?) and has developed a melt-your-heart manner of telling you a story that has no discernible plot or ending (but one HECK of a lot of animation and enthusiasm!).

Alice and Julia's unlikely friendship is continuing to progress, which pleases me to no end... though I am embarrassed to admit that I am still, 6 weeks after poor Julia's arrival, having to openly discipline both Sushi and Screamer for giving her the cold shoulder-- or worse.  Sometimes even Baby starts belligerently flapping her arms when she sees Julia on the approach, which is beyond mortifying for me.  I only hope that my endless stream of positive reinforcement is doing *something* to mitigate the inevitable damage that the children's resistance must be having on her self-esteem.... yikes.  (Which reminds me, if anyone has any advice as to how I can speed up the toddler-acclamation-to-a-new-nanny process, I'm all ears.)

Finally, The German is pretty much out of my life entirely-- I avoid her whenever possible and I respond to her ongoing text advances as politely but succinctly as I can-- and I become more enamored with The Australian at every playdate (my infatuation is tempered only by the recent news that her husband's job may require them to relocate to Abu Dhabi, which is an hour away... Curses!!)

Overall, we have few complaints, other than (1) the heat, which is spiking so dramatically that it's almost comical; (2) the American Idol finale (DON'T GET ME STARTED, unless your intent is to get me crying onto my computer keyboard); and (3) the fact that all good things-- or in this case, all good vacations-- must come to an end.  Hey Daddy, let's not wait another 4 years before we plan our next escape.  ;)  xo

Better Late Than Never, Passover Edition

So it all started with this "LIVESTRONG" type wristband that PopPop picked up somewhere.  Without quoting it directly, let's just say that its message was something along the lines of "Support the Newish state."  And let's just say that PopPop was wearing it around the house one day, and while it made me a little bit nervous, it turns out that it made Daddy a lot bit nervous.

The next day, when I commented to Daddy about the fact that PopPop had taken it off, Daddy expressed great relief.  What do you care?, I said, defensively and looking-for-a-fight-ing-ly.  And he went off about how PopPop really shouldn't even joke about wearing something like that out in public, because he's on Daddy's sponsorship, and if PopPop gets in trouble, then Daddy gets in trouble, and it's not like we're living in a country with freedom of speech or expression...

Suddenly I found myself in a panic.  No freedom of speech...  No freedom of expression...  You can't even wear an inconspicuous wristband with a potentially controversial message on it?  Things became clear in a way they hadn't before.  Whereas at home in the US, my minivan bore a NOW bumper sticker that read, "Keep Abortion Legal", NOW, I was in a country where abortions *were* illegal.  Illegal!  And where it is technically against the law to be gay.  And where you can't even joke about letting it be known that you are Newish.  I started to sweat.

Daddy and I didn't speak to each other for the rest of the night: he was angry because I was acting as if this was news to me, how could I be so naive, why do I always have to rock the boat?; and I was angry because Daddy wasn't angry that our Newishness is something that-- in all seriousness, and not just for purposes of making the blog entertaining-- we have to actively hide here.  I mean, I knew when I signed up for this that there aren't any synagogues in the UAE, but I didn't take into account that over time, being forced to conceal our identities would get harder instead of easier.  I was getting sick of keeping this part of our family a secret, even in my own home.

So I festered and I sulked and I longed for the days when I could drag my kids to Friday night services even though I knew they were just going to goof off the whole time.  It was still goofing off in the company of the News.  I missed having a community that I could take for granted.

When I finally tried to break the ice with Daddy, what began as an apology for my hotheadedness turned into an outpouring of emotion... culminating in my unintentionally hurling this somewhat ill-conceived accusation: "And because we have to be here, this is the first year of my entire life that I didn't go to a Passover seder!"

And just like that, someone get a memo to Elijah, it was Passover in Dubai.

Daddy and PopPop and the girls all quickly got on board (the girls, perhaps under a bit of false pretense: I took out the calendar and said, "Look, kids, we didn't even realize that tonight is Passover!  We have to hurry and get ready!") and we began scurrying about.  While Daddy and PopPop went to the store for various ingredients and the girls began coloring Passover decorations that I downloaded from the internet, I officially cut the inaugural ribbon of my Cooking Experience and walked into the kitchen-- alone and with a culinary purpose-- for the very first time.  Homemade matzah!  (I agree with you that it didn't sound appealing but really, what were our other options, people.)

PopPop swore that I couldn't screw this up (flour + water = matzah) but he might have been giving me too much credit.  I had no rolling pin (something tells me that this is not what the Crayola people had in mind when they invented washable markers, see first photo above) and my test matzah almost burned the house down (it seemed to me that the recipe called for the parchment paper to go into the oven, too, but maybe I was wrong?  still unclear, see second photo).  Eventually, I got the visuals somewhat right (third photo!), and after Daddy worked his magic in the kitchen (um, this was not *his* first attempt at cooking, so he had an unfair advantage, I believe), we were ready to sit down.

So what if our seder plate was a 4-year-old's computer-printed worksheet (fourth photo)... and the background music was a "Taste of Passover" album that I hurriedly purchased from iTunes (and which, it turns out, was just 14 different versions of the song "Dayenu")... and the kids both absentmindedly wandered out of the room while PopPop was doing his best to tell them a very G-rated version of the Passover exodus from Egypt.  All that mattered was that we were sitting together, as a Newish family, dining on "matzah" under the dim light of the candles (giant, canary-colored, lemon-scented monstrosities, but whatever) and remembering to pause and appreciate our freedom as News in a way we never had before.  And it was kinda cool to say "Next year in Jerusalem" and have the Promised Land be only a couple hundred miles away.  News huddling in the desert.  Like the good lord intended it!  PopPop even said it was his best seder he's ever had... and I absolutely believed him.  It was mine, too.

By the time the girls were ready to cover their eyes for the hiding of the Afikomen (photo five), we were one big pile of mushy, sentimental goop.  Daddy laughed that this was probably the first time in history that the Afikomen was traded for dirhams.  We took a family photo with Sushi holding a sign that read, "Passover in Dubai 2009," and I have a feeling it's a picture that will always make us smile.

It's still not easy to be Newish here.  But because Daddy is the most wonderful husband in the world, for at least one night this place felt 100% like home.  xo.

What's In, What's Out

IN: The Australian!!  (trust me, she's wonderful)

OUT: The German

IN: The American school

OUT: The international school

IN: eating dinners as a family in the dining room (thanks, Julia!)

OUT: breakfast cereal at the kitchen counter after the kids go to bed (though that does have its own irresistible charm, you have to admit)

IN: taking the car to pick up the kids after school (it's ALREADY over 100 degrees most afternoons, and it's barely May, heaven help us)

OUT: the adorable little red wagon

IN: watching entire seasons of shows in rapid succession on iTunes

OUT: reading books (come on, you knew it couldn't last)

IN: temporarily confiscating toddlers' precious loveys

OUT: time-out corners (it just wasn't working for us, Jo Frost, but we hella tried)

IN: stalking an American Idol contestant from afar (GO ADAM!!!)

OUT: acting like an adult

IN: swimming lessons, soccer lessons, playball lessons, ballet lessons

OUT: lethargy

IN: The Wizard of Oz, Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory

OUT: Playhouse Disney (adios, Handy Manny, and your godforsaken talking toolbox)

IN: GOING HOME TO THE STATES FOR THE MONTH OF JULY!

OUT: abject terror at the thought of *voluntarily* taking 3 small children on a 20-HOUR flight (well, it's not OUT yet, but I'm optimistic that the sedatives-- mine-- will take effect soon...)

Hoping to see you then, U.S.-based friends!!  xoxo

Breaking Up Via Text Message

Ugh, I am really sorry.  Have been getting emails from people asking what the HELL ever happened with The German and the party.  And I'm so embarrassed that I didn't follow up on my last post in a timely fashion.  I mean, there are acceptable cliffhangers, and then there are blatant attempts to drive people away from the blog by author inactivity.  Apologies!  Please come back!

So here's what happened.  The day before the German party, I texted the husband: sorry to bother you, it appears your wife is not speaking to me, am wondering if we are we still invited?  He, in what I took to be a cowardly move, did not reply.  Then the next morning (party day!), I received the following text from The German herself:

"First of all, not smart move contacting [Husband].  He would never discuss my issues with somebody else!  Second, I just realized that we are living in too different worlds, so I think it's better to stop this texting relationship and this being involved like before.  That doesn't mean that I am not talking to you anymore... Third, the girls are still invited, sure.  But if [Screamer] is still on [restricted] diet it will be difficult for her, there will be lots of candies all over the place."

From this I took the message that the *girls* were invited, but the girls only.  So I did what any spineless combatant would do: I sent the kids to the party with Daddy, and then sat upstairs and watched the whole celebration unfold through my bedroom window.  Daddy returned to report that, while The German went out of her way to say hello to the children standing at his side, she never uttered a single word to him.  Aargh!

I was surprised when, the next day, I received this text from The German:

"Thanks for joining the party and thanks a lot for the great coloring books, the girls love them much, we already started today!"

I didn't know how to respond (an exclamation point??) so I didn't (good thing, too, as I later realized that this was her version of a thank you note).  But I hoped she was waiting by the phone for a buzz that never came. 

One week later it was time for Sushi's party in *our* backyard, to which The German's kids had been invited long ago.  I started to sweat; would SHE show up at MY party?

Nope.  She followed suit and sent *her* girls with *her* husband.  In fact, I was shocked when she made a momentary appearance at the end of the party to collect the kids; I said nothing to her (but made sure she saw me in my fabulous hostess dress; she has otherwise only known me in some version of pajamas, I think).

Awkwardly, the present that she gave to Sushi was a bookbag from the international school that her kids attend; I quickly confiscated it, lest Sushi get confused about the likely change in enrollment plans.  Then The German sent me this text the next day:

"Thanks for the party.  I kept the invoice, just in case you need to change something.  Maybe the girls can meet at the clubhouse pool some day?"

Was the ice thawing?  I didn't care.  At that point, I had gotten over feeling hurt and betrayed and had moved into feeling angry.  PopPop had given me the great suggestion to start wearing my (prescription) sunglasses to the clubhouse, which made my frequent close encounters with The German there a lot easier to endure (for the most part, I pretended not to see her, despite the fact that behind the dark lenses, I was performing an endless and comprehensive scan of the entire property for any sign of her).  Once she and I even bumped into each other while exiting adjoining bathroom stalls-- yikes!!-- good thing I was wearing my sunglasses even in there (and suffering near-blindness as a result, but sooo worth the inane fumbling around in the darkness).

Then yesterday, I almost fell off my chair when I received this final missive:

"Hi [Mommy], can't help it, I still care a lot for you... If you are still interested in nursery school for [Baby], it could be good timing to go to main school campus asap as they are filling the toddler classes.  I got a spot... Good luck for you!"

So now the question: HOW DO I REPLY, IF AT ALL?  I'm awaiting your sage advice... xo

I Should Be Sleeping Right Now BUT...!

Family update post!  Family update post!  Are you as excited as I am?  (Actually, I'm really so very tired.  Made the mistake of taking some Tylenol PM last night *before* I checked with the kids to see if they were planning to wake me up 3 times during the night.  They were.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to repeatedly pull yourself out of a Tylenol PM coma??)

So ok, here we go.  In no particular order...

SCREAMER - is potty trained!  And has been for 2 weeks now.  She put it off a bit longer than I had expected (Sushi was out of diapers at 27 months, whereas Screamer is 29 months, and it makes perfect sense to me that the children would hit all of their developmental milestones on the exact same dates) (you know, because I gave them Filofaxes at birth) (ahaha Filofaxes no one uses those anymore) but she really hit the road running.  Hardly any accidents, yay!

SCREAMER Part II - spent 2 days in the hospital this week for dehydration.  Picked up a stomach bug and absolutely couldn't shake it.  Puked for so many days that her little frame seemed to be shrinking before our eyes, and when she lay down on the floor, I couldn't help but think of E.T. in that part of the movie where they found him all white and shriveled in the woods (see? I am still scarred by that movie to this day) (and to think that Daddy *dared* suggest we name one of our daughters Elliot)  ("Ellllliiiiooooot").  The whole hospital experience was pretty miserable, even aside from the obvious misery of having a kid in a hospital bed trying to pull out her IV;  I learned the hard way that 

(a) there are very few actual American people in the "American Hospital" (uncomfortable moment: Mommy says to familiar-looking woman behind check-in desk, "Have to say I thought there'd be more Americans here."  Woman who is clearly from New York or Connecticut responds, "Nope, not too many."  Mommy smiles affectionately and says, "So it's just us, huh?"  Woman raises eyebrows and replies, "Um, I'm from Palestine."); 

(b) it is possible to receive completely contradictory medical advice from the doctors in the ER and the doctors who admit you to the hospital, which is not great for bolstering confidence in the medical care about to be administered; and 

(c) I have the potential to transform into a raging lunatic when unable to track down a doctor-- ANY DOCTOR!!-- over the course of a 4-hour period (suffice to say that, at one point, I was standing at the nurses' station, Screamer limply on one arm and the IV stand in the other, loudly demanding that SOMEONE get the PRESIDENT of this HOSPITAL on the phone for me right NOW!!!).  Thankfully, apart from the occasional mood swing (which I may indefinitely continue to attribute to imbalanced salt and sugar levels, just to give her the benefit of the doubt), as of today the Screamer is fully recovered.  PHEW.

SUSHI - is very proud because she has just begun writing her name in both capital and lower case letters, having been previously *ruined* by a mother who first taught her how to write her name in ALL CAPS (this is her teacher speaking here, not me).  Also, she is beginning to read-- really READ!-- simple words, which pleases me to no end.  I am going to hammer her like crazy over these next 8 days before her birthday, just so that I can say with authority that "my daughter was reading at 3 years old!", an accolade that surely serves no purpose on this planet whatsoever other than making me feel like my stay-at-homing-ness has yielded some tangible reward.

BABY - *finally* started crawling a couple of weeks ago, after giving me fair reason to suspect that she might be happy just sitting on the floor for her entire life (then again, maybe her slight delay suggests intelligence instead of lethargy: after all, why waste energy crawling when you have Alice to carry you around 14 hours of the day?).  Is also sleeping through the night.  And thinks that a person jumping rope is cause for spastic fits of laughter.  In case you were wondering what her comedy weakness is.

DADDY - is in Paris!  On business.  Because we can't all be globetrotters like he is.  But if the kids are good, he is likely to "surprise" them with the "presents" of whatever schlock he can hurriedly gather from his first class airplane seat as he deplanes (last time, Sushi was ceremoniously presented with a United Airlines eye mask and tube socks).  (Can't blame him for not spending actual money on presents, though, as Sushi is still talking about that ridiculous faux-satin eye mask long after I threw it out on principle.)

POPPOP - continues to put men half his age to shame with his muscled physique.  Wears his iPod as habitually as a teenager.  Lives in sunglasses reminiscent of Top Gun.  I actually can't remember the last time I saw him wearing a shirt that did *not* have cut-off sleeves. But more power to him; the last time I exercised was September 18, 2007.  For reals.

Z-MAN - celebrated his birthday this week.  The kids and I made him a cake.  He told us that this is the first time in his life-- !!!-- that anyone has formally acknowledged his birthday.  So we all felt pretty good about the mini party we threw him in the kitchen... the guy could not have been smiling any more broadly than when the girls presented him with the big chocolate pile of frosting that boldly bore his name across the top.

And then there are a couple items of current events...

THE BAD NEWS - My friendship with our next-door neighbor, The German, has gone up in flames.  IN FLAMES!!  Here are the highlights of the story.  

(1)  Screamer is released from the hospital.  

(2) Two hours later, the kids and I are playing quietly in our open-air garage. 

(3) The German's children come tearing in, wielding chocolate bars and shoving them into my kids' hands. [NOTE: This happens with significant frequency.  And it is not unheard of that they would just stroll into my house and begin rifling through my cabinets for snacks. THIS MAKES ME CRAZY.  MOMMY DOES NOT LIKE UNINVITED VISITORS.]

(4) I pry the chocolate bar away from Restricted-Diet-Screamer, and then cheerfully go on to entertain The German's kids for the next 20 minutes by allowing them to draw all over my body with face paint. 

(5) After the impromptu playdate ends (due to Sushi throwing an unholy fit over something or other and my having to drag her screaming up to her room), I send The German a text message to this effect, "Hi there, hey, could you or [your housemaid] just give me a heads-up before the kids come over?  Sometimes it's not a good time and I feel bad sending them away."  [NOTE: This is really the gist of what I wrote.  I even rewrote it a few times to make sure it did not come off as overly inflammatory.]

(6) I then receive the following text message from The German (AND I QUOTE): "Don't worry they will not be coming over again ever.  Sorry if you can't control your kids.  I am not making calls to playdates on my street."

(7)  My stomach lurches.

(8) I frantically send her a series of messages attempting to backtrack, making vague apologies, and generally trying to avoid incurring the wrath of this enormous person who is uncomfortably well-connected among the Important Moms To Know in Dubai and who lives a REALLY uncomfortable stone's throw from where I lay my head at night (and who ADMITS that she watches us through our windows!!!).  She promptly replies (AGAIN, I QUOTE),  "You stay in your place and there will be no need for fighting.  You are way too hysterical.  Do I need to change my phone number?  I was always a friend and always defending you.  But not any more, you crossed a line too much.  Focus on your kids, that is all you are interested in."  [NOTE: Is that supposed to be an insult?]

(9) Panicking (while at the same time FUMING), I make a last-ditch attempt to salvage the relationship by texting the suggestion that we stop writing for now, we're both getting carried away, let's try to work this out for the sake of our kids, who enjoy playing together.  She then launches the final missle: "Backyard is big and kids are busy- they were happy before you moved here and they will be happy without your kids.  Same to me."

(9) HOLY SH*T!!!

And if that wasn't bad enough, her kids' joint birthday party bonanza is TOMORROW in her BACK YARD.  A few hours ago I sent a text to Mr. German, who we *thought* was a pretty level-headed and reasonable guy, asking if we are still invited.  As of press time, there has been no reply.... 

[Postscript to The-German-Hates-Me Story: You know how I'd kinda resigned myself to sending Sushi and Screamer to the international school, even though I kinda really got a better vibe from the American school?  Well maybe this is the sign I'd been waiting for; maybe we will end up sending Sushi to the American school just so I don't have to deal with seeing The German every day at dropoff and pickup; and maybe that will turn out to be the Best.  Decision.  Ever.  and I will look back on this unpleasant incident and thank my lucky stars.  Maybe.]  [Or, maybe I will become a social pariah and wear dark shades and duck into my car whenever I absolutely have to leave the house.  You know, like I did this morning.]

And now... THE GOOD NEWS! - It seems that we have FOUND A SECOND HOUSEMAID!!  (Cue the stream of disgruntled expletives from all of my overworked and underappreciated stay-at-home-mom friends back in the USA.)  We specifically chose her to interview because her classified ad declared her a good cook-- hence, I will refer to her as Julia (Child) unless a more nickname-worthy event takes place-- and she has been with us for a week now.  I'm THRILLED to report that so far, Julia has been truly fantastic: she has been working overtime to earn the affection of Sushi and Screamer (not an easy thing to do); she hardly batted an eye at the unusual series of challenges presented by Spring Break + Screamer Illness; and she has just been generally lovely to be around (we even caught her and Alice sharing a giggle in the kitchen one evening, and our hearts were collectively warmed!).  So this is the best best best news, because it opens up the possibility that I will be able to actually explore Dubai for a few hours a day without the kids in tow, perhaps even do some volunteer work somewhere, and not let this whole whirlwind experience pass me by in a haze of repetitive park visits and frozen dinners and bedtime rituals, all of which I will have plenty of time to do when we get back to the States.  Hooray!

Alright, since Daddy is away I have no one to proofread this for me.  Thus, I apologize in advance for any typos or disjointed sentences; am gonna post it anyway.  And if there are any parts that don't make sense, just blame the Tylenol PM.  xo.

She's a Mommy, Too.

Uuuuugh, something kinda sad just happened.  

All day long, Alice has been walking around with this pouty face on.  And of course, because I am a neurotic narcissist, I assume that it's because of something I did.  (This is not entirely unfounded: she got really pissed at me last week for requesting that she come back to the house after she mistakenly thought I'd given her an extra day off, and she sent me a text that literally said the following: "Mam, if you think that I made mistake b'coz of this you can cut my job.  I have nothing to do if [Daddy] get upset to me.  Maybe I'm not the right one that you need inside the house.  I do everything my best already.  Thanks."  I almost fell over upon receiving it; who knew that mild-mannered Alice had it in her?)  So anyway, she's moping around and I'm feeling worse and worse about it and I keep asking her what's wrong and she keeps saying nothing.  And I have to tell you, it began to feel like true family dysfunction.  When we first moved here I had no idea-- no idea!!-- that having "domestic help" live with us would be SO. MUCH. WORK.  I mean, emotionally, it's suuuuuuper draining.  And maybe it's just me-- I admit that I'm pretty thin-skinned when it comes to interpersonal dynamics-- but seriously, in these 4+ months since our arrival, I've already expended an inordinate amount of energy (a) worrying about whether the "staff" is happy here; (b) contemplating whether I am a cool enough "madam;" and (c) mediating the staff's relationship with one another.  In fact, it often feels like I have 5 kids instead of 3 that I'm responsible for tucking into bed at night, and I mean that in the least condescending, most maternal-instinct-y way possible.

So anyway, I keep asking and Alice keeps blowing me off and then finally the day is over and, just as I'm about to check if she needs me to drive her to the supermarket for some food, she goes into her bedroom (depressingly located right off the laundry room, though it should be noted that I did once offer her a larger room upstairs near ours) and she pretty much closes the door in my face.  So I knock and she opens it a crack and I hear her crying and I stand out there and ask, about 6 times, if she will please open the door.  She eventually does, and I beg her to tell me what's wrong, saying that whether she likes it or not she's my closest friend here and it breaks my heart to see her this way.  After much sniffling and stalling she finally starts talking...... though about what, I unfortunately cannot say.  See, when Alice gets emotional, her English gets even more broken... so when, at one point, she said to me through a blur or tears, "Do you understand?", I had to shake my head regretfully and say, "No."  Awkward.  

But I did ultimately get the gist of it (I *think*), which is that she suspects that her husband back in the Philippines is screwing around on her, and that he is also frivolously spending the money that she sends home every month for their two sons.  I didn't know WHAT the hell to say to that ("Men are jerks!" ? or "I'm sure you're wrong!" ? or "Here's a loan!" ?) so I just went with, "If you need to go back to the Philippines for a few days and deal with stuff, just tell me and I will arrange it" (even though I was screaming at her with my eyes, "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THESE CHILDREN, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF THEM").  But what really got me was the end of the conversation: she wiped her cheeks and quietly said, "Sometimes I see you with your family and you are so happy and I think, 'I am so jealous of that.'"  And suddenly I was keenly aware of how incredibly blessed I am to be able to kiss my children goodnight and watch them taking their very first steps and help them prepare for their first days of school... whereas poor Alice is missing out on ALL of that with her two children.  For YEARS and YEARS at a time.  Instead, she has to watch *my* kids take their first steps and get ready for school and get kissed goodnight by *their* mommy.  Which pains me to imagine, and makes me realize that the world can be a very cold place, for an awful lot of people.

As PopPop says at times like these, "Obviously housemaids and drivers are people just like us-- the difference is, we were born lucky."  

Ok, so what are you waiting for, lucky person?  Go and kiss your kids.  xo.