career change?

I found my perfect job a while back. I didn't tell you because I wanted to be able to post video of it for you...but I can't find it online anywhere.

We were watching Sesame Street, Old School one day (no, it's not being on Sesame Street--that's choice number three. I've wanted to be on the Street for as long as I can remember.) and I saw it. I want to be a postman (postal carrier, postal worker, whatever) in the Appalachian Mountains.

This guy we saw on Sesame Street (who was so old I am sure it's not him anymore) rides on horseback 18 miles three times a week to deliver mail. The rest of the time, I'm guessing, he spends in a cozy little postal shop that is probably in a log cabin with a wood-burning stove...that someone provides the wood for and starts the fire each morning...and maybe is next door to a general store.

How great would that job be? I'd just get Lexi a horse and she could ride along, too.

note to kate: LOOK IT UP!

We went to the doctors yesterday. I was rx'd an antibiotic and Lexi was rx'd an anti-virual medication. When I asked why our SAME illness was being treated so differently, I was told it was because of our ages. Lexi was given her med to boost her immune system. My older lungs were suspected of harboring other infections.

It didn't really make sense, but we. are. so. sick. that I accepted it and figured we try. (Hmm...the peach oil incident didn't spring to mind then but it does now.)

I started our treatments yesterday. Today, I got online and looked up what they'd given me for Lexi--and what I'd given her. (I ignored all my rx-es except the antibiotic. Russian doctors like to make recovering from an illness a full-time occupation. I don't. But, for Lexi, I took everything home they rx'd.)

She has nose drops (yuck) to clear her sinuses. Fine.

She has a medicine that I was told was for her cough. Turns out, it's actually meant to increase mucous production, thereby allowing the mucous to clear the body of infection on its own. This sounds great, all natural and wonderful...until you hear the horrible cough she already has. I think this is meant to be an expectorant. BUT, since her cough is dry and unproductive and her lungs are clear, she needs a cough suppressant and not an expectorant. So, we've gone back to Robitussin.

And then there's the one that makes me a little sick to think about. It's a suppository (okay, bad enough...but that's not why) that is an anti-virual, meant to increase her white blood cell count. But when I look it up, it's all about human recombinant interferon. When I look that up (because it sounds horrible, but what do I know?) there's not a lot of information.

And then it starts talking about invitro testing for compatibility and cloning.

I admit I read no further.

Because inside my head I'd started screaming,
WHAT HAVE I JUST PUT INSIDE MY LITTLE GIRL? YOU IDIOT!!! WHY DIDN'T YOU LOOK IT UP BEFORE YOU GAVE IT TO HER? HOW COULD YOU HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING WHEN YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS? HOW COULD YOU HAVE TRUSTED THE DOCTOR? WHO DID THIS STUFF COME FROM? I'M SO SORRY!!

We've stopped that one, needless to say.

(I calmly called the pediatrician and told her we had some problems with the suppositories and asked if we could take something different. She said it was fine to stop it. We just have to come in next week for an updated white blood cell count.)

I still can't believe I did this.

little known fact

having a seven-year-old makes it very difficult to consume the recommended hours of "junk food television" one needs to properly recover from the crud. ;>

war of attrition continues

We have no school next week. Hooray!

That means that last Thursday, completely out of the blue, a cough that wracked my whole body starting inside my big toe and working it's way up, blindsided me.

Friday fever.

Today Lexi is succumbing.

But...no school! Hooray!

car ps--

• didn't start today (it's -22C...but warmer than the last few days so go fig)
  
• took taxis to rehearsal (the show must go on has never seemed less true)
• and back
  
• called principal for a wrench
• he didn't pick up
• called Lexi's teacher (who lives around the corner)
• who sent her husband with the wrench
• he removed the battery
• and it's sitting in my entryway
• warming up
• along with the last one they replaced
• which was in the back of the car
  
• but could have cracked if I left it there (remember? that happened.)

This was very hard to do with the whole cough/fever/fatigue thing.

I decided that having someone come and "spark" my car meant that I'd have to haul our sick carcasses out every. day. in the SUNNY cold spell (it's worth it for the sun) we're having. Bringing the batteries in means we can just. stay. home.

And that's one of my most favorite things to do.

Lexi p.s.--a dose of bubble gum fever reliever has her off the couch and doing sote-arabesque around the living room. Let's hope that's a foretaste. Of course, as I typed that, she started the gut-wrenching cough.

a calmer kate

my car is sitting in the parking lot near by house--tire on and battery jumped (or "sparked" as my friend said).

oh, my DEAR friend marina! she spent all weekend (from about 10 p.m. friday on) going back and forth between the impound lot, the tire place and the police station. she wouldn't hear of us coming with her, trying to take care of everything--and of US. this when she'd been home for the last two days with fever and a swollen spot brought on by the death of her aunt--the last relative of her father who died last year.

and yet, she gave her weekend (and her husband's) to us.

i send her a million thanks. she is someone i will miss next year--not because she helps me with my car, but because she is a friend.

incidentally, i don't think i ever went to the police station in the US. i've been to three different stations (one of them twice) during my stay here--all for car-related issued. this police station was by FAR the most pleasant.

and the funny bit--when the policeman today saw my dip card, he asked marina if i was the consul general. ;>

seriously? again?

newly returned car got a flat tire on the way home--so flat it's falling off the rim. which, actually, might not be a flat but something like an exploded tire.

there is no aaa (which you'd better BELIEVE i'm counting as a neccesity and not the luxury i'd categorized it while doing the acting thing).

i don't know how to change a flat. maybe i did once...

it's. still. snowing.

so we left the car and walked home.

today they....towed it. nach.

and i don't know where. nach.

seriously? come on. i've only got five more months. can't i be worry-free on the car front for five months?

having to body check everyone as we trudged home on the one-person-wide semi-cleared slush-path--because they shove my seven-year-old out of their way if i don't--made me wonder how many final straws there can be.

wanted: one tower

I'm directing our school musical right now. We're doing Into the Woods. I love this show. It's just. so. clever.

And, this year I'm finding a whole new well of empathy for the witch. Always before I'd been firmly in Rapunzel's camp. "I am no longer a child. I want to see the world!"

This year, it's the witch who is striking a chord within me:

Don't you know what's out there in the woods?
Someone has to shield you from the woods.
Princes wait there in the woods, it's true.
Princes, yes, but wolves and humans, too.

Stay at home
I am home
Who out there could love you more than I?
What out there that I could not supply?
Stay with me.

Stay with me, the world is dark and wild.
Stay a child while you can be a child.

Before we go any further, let me assure you, in case there is the merest shadow of a doubt, that my child is perfect. PERFECT.

She has had some horrible cards dealt her--early neglect, life in a Russian orphanage--and those cards have left their mark. But is does not diminish her perfection in my eyes. It just causes me to marvel at the preservation of her tender heart and her willing spirit. She has a bright, inquisitive nature and a contagious joy.

Because of those early "cards", Lexi has PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. When she is back in an institutional setting, and school is an institution, she dissociates, she regresses. Everything regresses--her coping skills, even her handwriting. School is a difficult place for Lexi to be.

And, she almost doesn't know it. She has an innocence that comes with her developmental age. She is much younger than her seven years.

And all I want to do is to protect her. To let her take her time. To let her make up for all the years she lost at her own pace--and not to rush her to "catch up" with her agemates. To just let her be who she is.

I'm afraid this post is unfinished. And, there is new brain fodder churning around that will make it take even longer to finish. So for now. I'll leave it as it is. But that, perhaps, explains a little more about our decision to come home--and stay home. I'm hoping my planned year home can stretch to two...or to forever. ;> Keep your ears open for a great stay-at-home job for me. I'm thinking about the possibility of other parents wanting me to "homeschool" their children...or the possibility of working for some homeschool co-ops. Or, even better, let me know if you've got contacts you're willing to share in the world of children's publishing.

Okay. We'll stop here.

(And, I'll let you know that we have our car back. This time it needed new "tubes" in the transmission and transmission fluid. $750. Two different friends called to check on the progress and got two different stories. One was told that is has no back brakes. The other was told that the electrical box is in danger of exploding. When she said that we weren't interested in the car lasting more than six months, they said it should be fine as long as I let the car warm up before driving it. (???) The opinion of why the back brakes are bad--I don't drive it enough. Sigh. Looking forward to a new car in the US. I'm thinking a previously-leased CRV. )

be back soon

I've got a full plate. I want to be posting, but there are no quick tidbits to post. It's all tied and tangled up in one big, convoluted post. It's one of those thought mazes that your mind keeps racing round and round endlessly in the wee hours while the snowplows and tow trucks rumble by your window.

Stress at work, no-car stress (could just need transmission fluid and new hoses--$600--or could need a new transmission--$thousands, which we won't invest) and all that goes with it, where-will-we-live stress, directing a show stress, no-sunshine stress, normal daily stresses...

It's all relatively little in the grand scheme of things, more inconvenient than anything else. So, worry not. I will get something posted soon...I hope!

growing

She's more than 10 cm. taller
than when she came home.
That's over FOUR INCHES.

Over the holiday, while we were both so, so sick,
she came into the room with a glass in her hand.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, I got some juice." she casually replied
with a sparkle in her eye.

"Lexi! You are amazing! You got that glass,
poured the juice by yourself, AND got up in
the cabinet for a straw? Wow."

"And I put some water in and mixed it up."

Also while we were sick she
mastered staying in bed until
the first number was seven.
At least, she did for a few days.

We went to deliver gifts from our school
to "my" orphanage. We had talked about
how excited "the girls" (their picture is on
our 'fridge and the ever-increasing donation
pile is always referred to as for the girls)
would be with their presents. I explained
that the boys and girls in the orphanage
had no mama or papa to buy them a
Christmas present.

On the ride home we talked about how they
didn't have a family; how they ate and slept
at the orphanage. (They were headed to lunch
when we left, and Lexi was confused about
where they would go--and didn't want them
to ride in the car to the restaurant with us.)

Lexi said that was "silly" (a current favorite
descriptive). I reminded her she ate and slept
in the groupa when she didn't have a mama.
We talked about how the girls and boys at the
orphanage didn't have a mama or papa.

Lexi added, "They only have grown-ups."

In my mind, the distinction she made
between a mama and simply a grown-up
was a big sign of growth.

We've FELT it for a long time.
It was just nice to hear.

privacy

I think we might try this privately...

I'm feeling a little exposed, and like I'm exposing Lexi and not keeping her safe. I'm feeling like, with our impending move home, I need more boundaries. I'm feeling that the popularity rush from getting a new follower was not a healthy thing. I'm feeling that some of those followers were a l.i.t.t.l.e bit creepy.

I've limited the readers. Please, if you're in the blogosphere, don't mention that I'm still posting here. I'm directing general traffic, family and some irl friends to the picture blog: http://2010in52.blogspot.com

Here's a question: Do posts on private blogs still show up on blog readers as new posts even if you're not invited?

Here's a request for a roll call: Please leave a comment on this post and let me--and other folks here--know you're reading, even if you never comment again.

from the 2nd grade blog

Anna wrote:
Yesterday we started to learn about Antarctica. We even riten facts about Antarctica.

We saw two man on the roof. One was choping of the iceicles we called him Mr.Ice Man and the other man was shufuling the snow off the roof we called him Mr.Snow Man. And when Mr.Ice Man choped off the last iceicle... We shouted all together... " Good job Mr.Ice Man!!!"

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

From Russia, with love

In international teaching, most schools require teachers to declare their intentions for the following school year in November. Last November, Lexi had been home a month and I wasn't ready to think about where we'd go next, so I signed on for this year. But, even then, I knew that this would be my last year in Russia. Six years in Russia is a L-O-N-G time.

Shortly thereafter I started thinking about where we'd go next. My friends were leaving and, as they looked at new schools, I mentally tried them on to see if they'd fit us.

I put it in the back of my mind for our big summer trip, even though it tried to force its way to the front on more than one occasion.

Back in Russia in August I wanted to wait until the year was started to think about this. When September came, I was debating and debating. I didn't have a clear sense of leading. I just went round and round the possibilities and crossed them off one by one.

-Our school would mean keeping many friend, our home, our car and everything that has become familiar and homey to Lexi. It would mean changing grades for me. (I don't think having Lexi in class is a good thing. She gets LESS of me because I'm worried that it will look like she's getting more. Not fair. But, changing grades can be managed.) It's a small, supportive community of students and parents which is nice. They've seen her come home and grow. There is little to be explained here about her background, and she is accepted at school. However, it's a small school and it's in Russia, which rules out so. much. that she needs. Few resources. No recreation. (You either train for the Olympics/Bolshoi/etc. from the time you're three or don't bother taking lessons in anything. You can't just learn how to do a cartwheel here. And, the shame-based educational system is NOT to my liking.)

-Our Moscow school is big, has more resources, and has *some* recreation opportunities. Life is easier and teachers are more "taken care of" than we are. I would keep my salary. (This is big as most international schools only allow you to enter the pay scale with a max of +/-8 years of experience.) It's a big school and I think she'd get lost in it. And, the commute is extreme in the afternoons. Most teachers consider it an early night if they're home by 6:00. For us, 6:00 is the beginning of dinner-bath-bed. I'd miss out on all our after school time together.

-There are many Eastern European schools that are reputable and in cities I'd like to explore. But...many were small and seemed like they'd offer about what our school does, but without the consistency that remaining here afforded. Or, they were big and very similar to Moscow but wouldn't let me keep my salary. And, after visiting Slovakia, I'm not sure that "Russia light" in the Baltics would be enough of a change for me.

-Singapore, Shanghai, New Delhi, the Hague...all are good schools. They're big, so they've got many resources. But they'd be NEW. I'd have a new curriculum. We'd both have a whole new world. And I was afraid Lexi would feel lost.

I was talking over these options with a friend (okay, I was probably whinging to her about them, if we're honest) when, if I remember correctly, I said I thought I'd apply to them all and see. But, I hoped no one would hire me and we could come home to the US and live off savings for a year and homeschool.

Friend (oh wise, wise friend) asked why I didn't just do that.

And I was stumped. Why didn't I?

And so, that is what we are going to do. In June we will leave Russia and come home. I'm not sure where yet...but it will be near a friend and have low cost-of-living.

I'm REALLY excited. I know this will be best for Lexi. It gives us time to work on academics in a place she feels safe, take all sorts of music and dance and gymnastics and swimming lessons, and work on all sorts of things.

I am living proof of the value of a sabbatical. I taught seven years before going to Oxford and hitting the boards full time. Now, I've been back in the classroom seven more. I'm ready for a year off. Or four. (Yeah right--if only I could afford THAT!)

Of course, I'll still be teaching next year. I'll even still be teaching second grade. I'll just have a very small class!

I highly recommend international teaching. I am so grateful for the opportunity I had to live and teach in both England and Russia. It's so different from going on a vacation! I like experiencing different cultures--not just in my host-country but also through the families in the school. International teaching has enabled me to save enough money to stay home for a year--or maybe even two. Yes, this was earmarked for us to use to buy and furnish a house. But, I think that this year off together is more important than a house. It's still being spent on our family. And really--it's just money.

I know that there will be people who think this is crazy; that this is not the economic climate to do this; that I'm being irresponsible. But, I think this is right and good. It's a big leap. But, I've leapt many times before and always, always been caught. I think I said a while back I was feeling nudged about that to do next year. This is the nudge I felt. So I'm leaping.

I'm very excited about our next adventure!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am very thankful for my little turkey. ;>

here's another

While we were in France, Kristina's mama and I were talking about what to do after the beach. I mentioned Lexi's fondness for ice cream. She was telling me that she knew just where we should go. They had ice cream, crepes, waffles...

Waffles? instantly piped up a little voice beside me. That's on the list.

out of the mouths

I was standing in front of my open wardrobe desperately looking for something to wear with my brown trousers that wouldn't look dark, depressing and muddy (told you my clothing sich was serious) when a snowsuit-clad munchkin came in and asked what I was doing. I told her I just needed a shirt and then we'd go.

Honey, she said to me full of gentle persuasion and compassion, but in all earnestness and brooking no nonsense, we don't have time for a shirt. We're late for school.

france

In Lexi's mind,

• Finland is where the waterpark with the snake slide is
• Slovakia is where Hannah and her mama live and we went to Trampolino
• Austria is where we had lunch at the zoo with Hannah and it was so cold she had to wear my poncho
• Hungary is where we went swimming in the rain (actually, she forgets this was in Hungary sometimes and puts it in Slovakia--same trip, you see)
• Frankfurt (because Germany is where Tyotya Kakleen lives, and we didn't see her on the Frankfurt trip) was where we ate hot dogs and bought her boots and sports shoes
  
• and America and Russia are big blurs that need to be broken down in to cities or states to elicit an answer.
  

Give her a map and she's a whiz at naming who lives where.

France is easy. France is where Kristina lives.


We went to France solely to see Kristina. I think it was good for us to go--particularly for Kristina. Kristina has been home six months and Lexi has been home thirteen. I hoped that this was long enough for the visit not to be traumatic and soon enough that they'd still remember each, might even be able to summon up some Russian so they could talk to each other. I wanted them to see, to know, that they are both safe and happy in their families.

The slide show might make it look more idyllic than it was. It was fine. But, neither of the girls speaks Russian any more. Both girls are developmentally young from their years in the orphanage and don't really play with other children. They are still in that parallel play stage. And, I'm not sure that the survival-of-the-fittest atmosphere of the orphanage left them with many warm-fuzzy moments to recall.

But, they SAW each other. There were hugs and kisses when we left. Lexi told me this was her BEST friend.

I know we were good for Kristina. The change in a few days was marked.

I learned more about the orphanage from Kristina and her mom. It was not pleasant, but I was glad to know it. And, if I had any qualms about calling Lexi "Lexi", (I don't) they would have been quashed. She was called neither Sasha nor Shura in the orphanage. It made me mad all over again that they wouldn't tell me her name, even.

It was great to sit and talk and share with someone whose child is not only adopted, not only adopted from Russia, but adopted from the same orphanage. We could see many ways that the orphanage shaped them even though they are very different people with very different experiences of orphanage life.

This trip left me feeling humbled and grateful that the tenderhearted nature of my little girl was preserved through her time in the orphanage. I know, I saw, how she was just run over while she was there. How her sweet, tender spirit was protected is nothing short of a miracle. I know it made life harder for her in orphanage, and that both saddens and enrages me. But, for how it makes our lives now, I'm so grateful.

Thank you, God, for showing me how you cherished this little sparrow until I could come and cherish her, too; that no one and nothing--neither height nor depth nor principalities, things present nor things to come...nor years in a Russian orphanage--was allowed to take that away how wonderfully she was knit together. (I know those verses are only semi-quoted and all mixed together. But, it's how my heart sings this song.)

So, it was good. We have new friends with whom we'll stay in touch. We have a link to her life before. We have someone who can help to fill in the blanks. And that is a precious gift that I'm able to give my daughter.

oh, the glamour

Let's dispel any lingering illusion of glamour that may be hiding in the corners of this blog.

The big news around here is...the pink grocery store, used-to-be-Parnas, has now had, consistently, Green Giant green beans AND peas AND corn. Ho, ho, ho. That's big. That used to be at least two different stores, about an hour apart.

They do not, however, stock our milk.

Stockmann's opened and they might have Campbell's tomato soup. There are days when $8 for a can of soup seems entirely reasonable. Campbell's soup has started showing up in bags on store shelves...but only weird flavours. Stockmann's, at least until proven otherwise, is the the hope fluttering in many an ex-pat's heart. They have vanilla, too. Probably.

I have a battle waging with my third toe on my left foot. It's testing me to see how short I'll cut the nail to avoid it in-growing.

It's raining. Still. And the puddles are all the color of pollution. And so are the hems of our pants, our boots, the car windows and any nasal discharge (either our own--sneakily peeked at in a tissue to see if a sinus infection is lurking--or others' discharged onto the street). Yes. Disgusting Glamorous.

The other morning someone parked so close to me and at such an angle that it took five minutes, easily, to unpark. Which made me late. And not best pleased.

Today I went to do a voiceover for a film. I was practically giddy over the opportunity to ACT --even for a couple of lines. I'd talked a friend into coming too, because they needed two American women and a little American girl. Turns out, they really only needed one woman. The second (me, because her daughter was dubbing, too, and so they went in together first) was just in case the first bombed. They didn't tell me that part. She didn't bomb. I uttered nary a word...in English. I uttered a few disgruntled ones in Russian.

My parmesan cheese molded and had to be thrown out. Cheese is ridiculously expensive here.

My cat is now so overweight that she cannot properly wash herself and needs baby-wiping and bathing of her back end. (Nope. Not overfed. I suspect depressed and bullied.)

Let's not even talk about my weight.

I don't think I have enough otc prescription-strength deodorant to last through the year and combat the toxic sweat. Go ahead and blog-search that one. It's been blogged about for a looooong time.

The cashier at the pie restaurant downstairs tried to cheat me out of 200 r. The charge was 280, I gave her 500, she asked for 30, I gave it to her, she gave me 50. And started helping the next customer. I picked up the receipt, showed her it and loudly told her she only gave me 50 r. She just looked sullen. I got the hostile "you're an American" look because I didn't let her pocket my 200r. I am so sick of cashiers doing this! The last time it was at a BANK. I do know how to count, thank you very much. Give me my correct change.

I can never spell restaurant without thinking. And second guessing. And spell checking.

Light bulbs last about four days. (This time frame might be slightly exaggerated.) And they're too tall for me to reach, even on our ladder. So the landlord has to send someone with a tall ladder to do it. But, they don't come every four days. So...it's a little dark.

It's a little dark. The sun comes up after we're in school and goes down shortly after we get home. And it's still November.

The drains in our bathroom often are odorous. It is not my fault. Neither is anything effective in eliminating this problem.

I gave away so many clothes last spring that now I've got SERIOUS wardrobe problems. Serious. And France was way too expensive for me to shop.

The drunks at the produkti below us are shouting at each other outside my window.

And that's just the beginning of the glamour. ;>

world traveler

In twelve months Lexi traveled to:

• The USA (twice)
• Finland
• Slovakia
• Austria
• Hungary
• Germany
• (I guess Russia counts, too)

and, month thirteen found us in...

...France!

I leave you, the tired mama of a tired world traveler (we got up at 3:30 a.m. to make our flight), with the most perfect fall photo EVER. Thanks, Bordeaux.

headed west

It's fall break! We're headed west. Back in a week or so.

tune in

Next week The Amazing Race is right in my backyard. ;>

(No, I didn't see them while they were here. I wish I had!)

(And, YEA! the mean girls are gone.)