Milo's first snow

It's the weekend in Lilongwe and that means lots of just hanging out with friends. I'm on my own tonight, as Jorge has gone out to watch some soccer game which is apparently a Very Big Deal. Milo just called me up to his room handed me a book about the rainforest which apparently was giving him the heebie-jeebies and told me "I want it go downstairs." Now that the scary frog is taken care of, I'm hoping both boys just go to sleep and stay asleep. My little guys are growing up so fast...


But that's a post for another day. I'm continuing with the flashback posts for now.


So shortly after we arrived back in Seattle intact (but only after the immigration department decided to hold us for an hour and put the fear of God, or at least the government, back into Jorge once again) we flew down to Los Angeles to visit my grandfather who had been ill. Milo got to trick-or-treat for the first time, and boy, was he sold on that concept.


And then in no time at all it was Thanksgiving. Just before the holiday, a big snow hit Seattle.



First off, let me just say that I have not been a fan of the snow since I was 8 years old and schools got shut down for 2 weeks after a big storm. That was really the last time it was fun. Since then, I've just found snow to be cold, wet, slippery, and terribly inconvenient. My childhood home is down at the bottom of a very big hill - there's no way to get out without going uphill. So once it snows, you're stuck. And being about as big as a whale by this time, I wasn't exactly going for any 3 mile walks through the snow to get to the shops.

However, making lemonade out of these lemons, I thought it would at least be great fun for Milo. I was wrong. we took him outside, he looked around, asked to get into his stroller, then never got back out. Here he is, hiding under a blanket.

My hubby, on the other hand, loves the snow, having only experienced it a handful of times in his whole life. So he took us around on a Siberian gulag march, throwing snowballs and refusing to let us go home until he was satisfied we had thoroughly experienced the snow. Then Milo and I holed ourselves up inside the house playing Wii and trying not to go stir-crazy for the rest of the week.

So there you have it - a post about snow just in time for summer to start! But it's heading into winter here in Malawi - I may even need to throw on a cardigan occasionally. So I am thankful for the experience, for reminding me that truly belong somewhere close to the equator, and I think Milo would agree.

Busy busy busy

Just hopping on quickly, after a very late lunch. The countdown to maternity leave is now on - We leave Malawi exactly 2 weeks from now. So as you can imagine, things have been pretty busy with trying to get all my work done, pack up the house, and still do all my usual mama/wife/friend activities. Jorge recently started taking a few online classes too, so I have had to take on a lot of the child-caring and home-management responsibilities for him as well so that he has enough time to study.

I had a nice trip to Ethiopia, but unfortunately I was sick for most of. Apparently my immune system has decided it hates me, and I think I have not had more than 3 or 4 days in a row when I was not sick since the end of June. It's one thing after another - the never-ending cold, a bacterial infection last week, stomach troubles. I spend so much time at the doctor's office I should get a plaque on one of the chairs.

Oh, and I suppose I have not mentioned that my grandfather is very ill as well, and I am deeply concerned for him.

Some days I feel so overwhelmed I think I could just sit down and cry.

But alas, even if I had the time, I never was much of one for wallowing.

Jorge and I take it all day by day for now, squeezing in the last-minute dinners and visits with friends, sorting and packing and selling when we get time, studying and parenting together as much as we can, and I have become quite adept at saying "no."

We're not heading straight back to Seattle this time around - we've decided to break up the trip on the way home and stop in Paris for 6 days. As usual, we haven't planned a thing, but we figure we'll just book a hotel last-minute, then spend the week walking, eating, and going where the day takes us. I'm particularly excited about all the yummy cheese options awaiting me :-)

Then on October we will be back HOME, and when I say home I mean it, back to the house where I spent the first 18 years of my life, with its obstructed view of Mount Rainier and its big sloping backyard, perfect for energetic little boys to tumble around in. Only this time instead of one little baby, we will end up having a houseful of kids - Milo, his nearly-one year old cousin Oseia, and the soon to be born little sibling. Throw into the mix one mom on maternity leave and two stay-at-home dads, and it should really be an interesting time! My sister, our gracious host, is going to have her hands full.

Dude, where's my car?

About 10 years ago, I was staying with my friend Mary in Washington D.C. Her boyfriend came over one night after having a couple drinks with his friends. He'd left something in his car, so I went out with him to get it. After wandering around a bit, I realized who was looking a bit perplexed. "Dude, did you forget where you parked your car?" I asked.

"No, I parked it here...I'm sure...I'm pretty sure..."

"Dude, you are so drunk. I can't believe you lost your car."

Well, as it turned out, in the 15 minutes he had been at Mary's apartment, his car had been stolen. I felt badly for mocking him.

So today, when my sister's boyfriend called and asked why my dad's car, which he generously loaned us for the summer, wasn't parked outside, we chuckled. It must be out there, he must have missed it somehow. We went out to check. No, not there. Not in the garage either...

So of course my sister and I then looked to Jorge. "Dude, seriously, what did you do with the car?" When it finally sunk in that this was not one of Jorge's pranks, we realized that my dad's car was indeed stolen from in front of our house last night. Crap.

This has not improved Jorge's impression of Seattle, naturally.

And the worst part? Tonight is our long-anticipated date night. Argh.

Oh, actually, the really worst part is that my dad was going to give the car to my sister after Jorge and I leave, because her boyfriend Tampa's car isn't working and they need it more than dad. Just three weeks more and she'd be the one getting that insurance payout, not him. Poor Miriam!

No wait, how about this: yesterday Jorge got the oil changed and filled up the tank! And Tampa just got a $35 parking ticket on the car, which he still has to pay...

Oy vey.

Crummy weather, growing babies, and another visit

Today's newspaper had the following headline: "Colder than Siberia"

Turns out it's warmer in Siberia, Alaska, and Norway than it is in Seattle right now. We've had rain every day for two weeks now. I haven't been able to wear any of my new warm-weather clothing.

Seattle sucks, man.

Jorge is feeling bamboozled because I assured him that summers in Seattle are lovely, and would be much more comfortable than New Orleans. Instead we got an unseasonably cold spring, with snow in March, and now it looks like we are heading into an unseasonably cold summer as well. Sheesh.

Milo had a big day yesterday - he is 8 weeks old, and he got first round of shots! He's getting all of them, by the way - I do not buy into the whole vaccine-autism myth. There is not a single empirical study or any credible evidence to show that vaccines cause autism, people. As a child survival specialist, though, I know how many children die each year because they (or the people around them) aren't vaccinated - about 1.5 million in 2000, according to UNICEF. He was also weighed and measured. His stats are:

Length: 23 inches
Weight: 11 lb 8 oz

Our pediatrician told us he's a "perfect little boy" (just as I have always suspected, naturally) because all his measurements are at the 50th percentile, meaning right on average. Which makes me want to say "suck it!" to the two people last week who asked "how many days old" my son was. Fine, I know there are a lot of big babies these days (Milo is now just 14 ounces heavier than I was on the day I was born) but I was starting to get a complex about my son being a midget when it turns out he's perfectly normal. And my in-laws better stop calling him skinny now!

In other news, last week Jorge's brother Ed came out to visit. We had a very nice time, and even got one day of sun, when we went to Mt. Rainier (or simply "the mountain," as it's usually called here). Here are some pictures from his visit:

Still plenty of snow up at the mountain for this time of year. Look at Milo in the baby carrier - he makes me think of the kid in "A Christmas Story" after being so heavily clothed for the winter that he can hardly move his legs.

Ed enjoyed walking in the snow only 24 hours after leaving the sweltering heat of Louisiana.On a day that the weather forecasters predicted would be in the 70s and sunny, we went to the new Seattle sculpture park and froze our little bupkusses off. And this is Milo checking out the seafood at Pike Place Market.

Milo with his Uncle Ed.

We got passed by a rally downtown. Milo joined right in. I'm so proud of my little war-protesting baby!

Next up in our lives - we leave on Moday for two weeks of exploring Big Sky country!

Heat wave!

Seattle is in the midst of a two-day heat wave. We got all the way up into the balmy 80s today. I hope no old people die.

Life is full, in a wonderful way. My oldest sister and her family are visiting, and my aunt arrived on Wednesday. Jorge has started a rowing class out on the lake, which taxes his coordation-challenged body, but he is enjoying it. While he rows, I go walking around the lake. Today everyone in the park was cheerful and quick with a friendly greeting, backing up my theory that the miserable aloofness we suffer at the hands of Seattlites is due to the crummy weather.

I also reconnected with two old friends from high school over the last week, one of whom is pregnant. It was kind of fun to play the role of wise maternal advisor, and not have to feel guilty about having not much to talk about apart from pregnancy and motherhood.

This weekend promises to bring even more fun - the Seattle Cheese Festival is on (I have been anxiously awaiting this event for months,) and tomorrow we are taking my nephew out to ride a train in the mountains. He is crazy about just about anything with wheels, so it will be fun to see his reaction.

As for Milo, we are figuring things out. He is getting a bit more fun and interesting every day, and we're getting better at understanding his needs. He likes to be held most of the time, but slowly he's getting able to entertain himself for short periods. He likes the usual baby things: eating, bathtime, and spraying people with bodily fluids. He's also a big fan of sucking. Turns out his father's nose is the perfect size and shape to be a pacifier:

Maybe it's the weather

One of the things that has been strange for us, but particularly hard for Jorge, is how strangers in Seattle aren't very friendly. We don't get out a lot, but when we do, we're always surprised that people can walk straight past us, in our own neighborhood, and act as though they haven't even noticed our existence.

At first I thought Jorge was just making this phenomena up, but I've been testing it out lately. For the last two days, I've gone for a walk in a nearby park. I pass dozens of people, and I make a point of looking them in the eye and smiling as they pass by, and only about one in ten will smile back. Sometimes I get a curt nod. Mostly they pretend they haven't seen me and continue walking.

I find this especially funny, because at 38 weeks pregnant, I look like a laughing buddha on a good day, and Danny Devito as The Penguin on a bad one. You just have to look at me, there's no way around it. And once you do, I imagine it's hard not to smile, even just a little. I would totally smile at a little round pregnant lady if I saw one.

In Malawi, children run out to the roadside to wave at me when I drive past. As a white person, I find it's usually me who tries to avoid making eye contact, because I know half the people I encounter will either want to chat or ask me for a job. But if I say hello to anyone, anywhere in the country, it's pretty much a guarantee that I will get a warm greeting in return.

I'm hoping that it's just that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) problem that everyone talks about here. Or maybe it's the food. The high cost of living, or the credit crisis? Who knows. At any rate, Jorge is very much missing Louisiana and Africa every time he goes out for a run and people shun him as though he's a leper.