Sunday, December 9, 2018

‘Tis the Season

As Christmas approaches, the house begins to take on a certain sense of merriment and cheer. We hung all the white Christmas lights above the patio outside to create a festive outdoor space that we now are unable to take advantage of for several months because of the cold, wind, and rain (it’s already rained more in the first few weeks of the rainy season than it did all last winter. In fact, we just had two straight days of cold misty rain as a result of a low pressure system that hung over Jordan over the weekend, an almost unheard of phenomenon), so we had to use the colored Christmas lights on the tree which Elise refers to as the “Charlie Brown” lights, but which the kids actually prefer.

Disappointed she wouldn’t get her woodland-themed tree this year, Elise reluctantly acquiesced and allowed the kids to go to town on the tree. It was a hodgepodge, but a colorful, festive hodgepodge even Elise eventually admitted was beautiful, even if it wasn’t the Anthropologie store window tree she secretly yearned for.



Letters to Santa have been written (but not mailed). I’ll have to take a photo of the letter and email it to Santa.



There have been Christmas musicals the likes of which our family has never experienced. 



This past weekend, we spent most of Friday at the mall, because of the rain. We ate lunch at the food court, went to the arcade Magic Planet, and saw a movie, the new “Grinch”. Saturday, my office hosted a Christmas brunch which included a visit from Santa who rode in on a soaking wet camel. The kids were understandably reluctant to have their picture taken with a fake Santa. But they really wanted a candy cane (life’s simple pleasures largely unavailable for living overseas), and the only way they were getting a candy cane was by sitting on Santa’s lap and having their picture taken. Well played, Dad! Well played!



We ended the weekend at the school’s holiday bazaar. Where Sam’s class sang Christmas carols.









Friday, December 7, 2018

Elfis and the Frozen Princess


Everything is Better When You’re Around

Elise left for India last night. 

She was supposed to have left the previous day, but after realizing the third grade musical “Elfis and the Frozen Princess” was scheduled to debut the night of her departure, we made a last second decision to delay her departure so she could see Peter perform.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Peter had tried out for the lead role, an Elvis Presley-inspired elf named Elfis. As such, he would perform a solo as part of the play. A solo! Our Peter! It was almost too much to believe. And the fact that he had been rehearsing and practicing at music class at school for several weeks without him having even mentioned that he had tried out...well, that’s Peter for you. 

Eventually, we did find out. Though I don’t exactly remember how, I do know it wasn’t by Peter coming right out and telling us he had tried out for the lead in the third grade Christmas musical and got the part. As the performance approached there were several rehearsals, one a Saturday afternoon the week before and another that morning. Elise, thinking she would be out of town for the actual performance attended both, so she could hear Peter sing. She was astounded. He had the voice of an angel, she reported back. When he sang a line for me the night before, I knew I would be a wreck during the show. But knowing Elise was out of town and I would have to meet him after school and get him ready for his big night on my own, I began mentally preparing for navigating the big night without Elise. 

Peter is anything but moderate. He is either sweet and kind like Winnie the Pooh or a field of marigolds or like a pot of boiling water or possessed like the kid in the Exorcist. I had no idea what his mental state might be like right before such a big night, but I was preparing for the worst, having to coach him through a torrent of emotions or, if he decided to back out all together, somehow convince him to get on stage. As with everything else in life with Peter, it was going to be either be incredibly easy or incredibly difficult. So, I was picturing how things would go down in my head, just in case. 

The difference between how I pictured things going down were I to have done it alone, without Elise, and how they actually went down with Elise here could not have been more different than dull black and white Kansas and Technicolor Oz. 

Elise helped him into his costume and styled his hair like Elvis. She took pictures of him in his costume, in his car seat, walking the stairs of the theatre. She even made a video. All things I wouldn’t have even thought to do. Afterwards, she suggested we all go out for sushi to celebrate whereas I would have been more likely to get straight home and warm up a packet of ramen. Though both Peter and Clementine acted as though they were both going to pass out of starvation the moment we sat down at the sushi restaurant, they peeled up when the edamame came around, and it ended up being a pleasant ending to a momentous evening. 

All this to say I’m really glad things worked out the way they did. People say things happen for a reason, and that couldn’t have been more true the night Elise delayed her trip to India by one day to see Peter perform the solo in the third grade holiday musical. 

Sunday, November 4, 2018

You Are Loved

One of the most interesting aspects of life is how narratives evolve, how certain decisions lead to certain events which lead to certain outcomes and create certain stories.  This story is a little bit like that.  If Sam's soccer coach hadn't pushed one of the players on Sam's team, Peter might not have had to write a note apologizing for his own behavior.

Soccer has not turned out the way we thought it would.  We signed all three kids up for soccer through Amman Little League, the same league Peter and Sam played baseball on in the spring. Baseball was fun...actually, perhaps I should rephrase that.  I had fun watching the boys play baseball. I don't exactly know how much fun they had playing baseball. Now that I actually think about it, I do recall Sam complaining about having to stand in the outfield for interminable periods of time. I think they thought it was boring.

Soccer promised to be less boring.  Sam's team, Ajib, short for Arab-Jordan Bank, was a small squad to start, maybe only three or four kids had originally been assigned to the team, coached by two very young men, both alumni of the Amman Little League, still teenagers themselves.

Peter's team, Miqdaddi, named after a fertilizer or some Jordanian agro-chemical company, was coached by a Jordanian jidu in him mid-sixties or seventies, a figure who reminded Elise of my dad.

Then, there was Clementine's team, Hala's Chips, in their bright yellow, banana-themed uniforms, so they looked the part of a swarm of bees, following the soccer ball as it rolled around in the dust.

The coaches for both boys' teams were impassioned.  Likely, too much so. After Peter's coach yelled in the faces of all the boys during the halftime of one of Peter's first games, Elise approached the league commissioner and I talked to the coach himself about our goals for Peter in the league. It was a bold move, asserting ourselves in a foreign land this way, but we thought it important enough to do.

From our perspective, this season could make or break soccer for them for the rest of their lives. That may sound dramatic, but all I've ever wanted for my kids when competing team sports is the opportunity to run and feel the wind in their hair. Winning wasn't important. Certainly not to be yelled out because they weren't winning, though neither Elise nor I are against a coach instilling structure and a sense of drive.

Peter's coach responded and Peter has thrived on the team.  Once perhaps a timid player, he has stepped up his game.  Especially on defense, a position he gets to play perhaps a little more than he would like. Even so, when someone is driving toward his goal, Peter is not afraid to step up and challenge him, something he may not have done last year.

A few weeks ago, Sam wasn't played at all in the second half of his game. Again, neither Elise or I come from a mindset where our kid needs to be played, especially at the expense of other kids getting minutes, but Sam was the only kid who sat out the entire second half.  Elise brought this to the coach's attention who basically told her to eff off, "This is my team. If you don't like it get lost."

You can imagine how well that went over.

The league commissioner again intervened, apologizing for the coach and trying to blame the slight on the coach's poor English. But not two weeks later, the other coach pushed one of the player's in a team huddle. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Sam was done. Weren't not quitters and we explained to Sam these were unique circumstances. We wouldn't be making a habit of starting a season we didn't intend to finish, but it was important to show Sam we weren't going to willingly sit by while he was exposed to a toxic and potentially dangerous environment.

Last Friday morning, we had soccer games scheduled as usual, but neither Sam or Clementine went.  Clementine had a sore throat, so they both stayed home with me while Elise took Peter to his soccer game.

Miqdaddi won (after starting the season winless for several weeks, they've won their last two games.  It is still not all about winning, but Miqdaddi has been making steady improvements over the course of the season), and Peter came home with his after-game snack.

The after-game snack is not a snack, but a full-blown lunch.

In other countries, the after-game snack may be a piece of fruit, bag of popcorn, or a cookie and a juice box, but in Jordan anyway, the after-game snack is shawerma or a turkey sandwich, chips, fruit, a lollipop, and a Capri-sun, an entire meal.  I joked with Elise that when it was our turn to bring snack I was going to set up my grill and make hamburgers and hot dogs. Elise went just shy of that with a bento box full of nutritious and delicious goodies.

Peter came home from his game, plopped himself down at the kitchen table where Sam and Clementine were diligently completing their homework and started wolfing down his "snack".

Not to mention, Sam and Clementine were trying to concentrate while Peter was doing his best attempt at imitating the Cookie Monster, smacking and growling, food flying everyone. It was annoying, and I think we all three told him as much. When he unwrapped a giant Ho-Ho cupcake and was about to shove it in his mouth, I told him not to. He hadn't eaten anything nutritious, no fruits or vegetables whatsoever since he woke up, so I told him he had to have some fruit before he ate his cupcake. I told him twice, but he still took a giant bite out of the cupcake which I then promptly snatched from his mouth and threw in the garbage while pulling him out of his chair and spanking him on the butt in the same motion.

He was pissed.

He called me a few choice words ("dumb" being one I distinctly recall), before being sent to his room.

He proceeded to destroy his bed and most of the room. When Elise and I came to talk to him, I told him I wasn't mad at him.  He had made a mistake and I had forgiven him.

"Well you're dumb, I know that!"

"Do you really think that?" I asked him.

He didn't say anything. I left.

He sulked in his room for the better part of an hour. At one point, Elise went back, bringing with her a note that said, "You Are Loved".

The following night, after we had returned from the Mini Marine Ball, everyone was wound up from an evening of dancing.  While Sam hit the showers, Peter got naked and was writhing around on our clean bed sheets.  Basically acting like a hyped-up eight year-old.  We were all tired and not much in the mood for his shenanigans.  Elise and I hadn't even eaten dinner yet.  She asked him to go put his pajamas on, brush his teeth, and go to bed.  It was a school night, after all.

That's when he admitted he had torn up the note she gave him the day before, the same one that read, "You Are Loved".

She sent him immediately to bed. 

I tucked everyone in, then poured Elise a glass of wine and myself a beer. We sat in the family room, recounting the evening and deciding where we wanted to get dinner from.

I heard a rustle and caught a fleeting, pajama-clad form crawl into the room and scoot back out.  I got up.  Behind a chair, on the floor in the hall leading to the back bedrooms was a note. I picked it up and gave it to Elise.


Thursday, November 1, 2018

Halloween from Xadia

The kids new favorite show on Netflix is Dragon Prince.  So, somehow, someway (probably because she is amazingly creative and talented!) Elise was able to handcraft costumes so Sam and Clementine could be Moonshadow assassin elves from the show and Peter the namesake dragon.





Everyone had a lot of fun at the Halloween event hosted by my office, where the kids go to go traick-or-treating from table to table, followed by a pirate-themed spaghetti and pizza dinner (plus beer for the adults!).  

Elise's hard work paid off.  The kids were happy (despite Clementine's pre-trick-or-treat meltdown. I'm not exactly sure what precipitated it, but the results were streams of purple face paint on her cheeks which Elise then had to reapply after finally getting her to calm down) and a good time was had by all!

But it's store-bought costumes for everyone next year!




Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Flag Day: Part Five


Colombo, Sri Lanka!

Monday, October 29, 2018

How to Drive in Jordan

Elise's first triathlon was only one of two endurance events we participated in on Saturday.

The second was the drive back to Amman from Aqaba.  There are two main highways connecting the north of Jordan with the south.  The Dead Sea Road connects Amman with the Dead Sea resort areas before continuing to the south, hugging the fence line between Jordan and Israel, and ending at the port city of Aqaba on the Red Sea.  The Desert Road is a straight shot from Amman to Aqaba.  As such it is about 30 to 45 minutes faster than the Dead Sea Road, even though it is constantly under construction and passes through several small towns which necessitate slowing down for speed bumps and children and small dogs sprinting across the highway between speeding cars.

Since Aqaba is the port city, the Desert Road is heavily used by tractor trailers hauling goods from the port to Amman and points beyond.  When parts of the Desert Road are torn up by construction, the going can be harrowing (at one point yesterday, as Elise will attest, we went to pass a car only to find four eighteen wheelers abreast of one another barreling towards us in the opposite direction).  We had planned to use the Dead Sea Road, even though the trip was a little longer, because the going is much safer, but the Dead Sea Road closed on Thursday night, right before we planned to leave, and doesn't look like it will be re-opening any time soon.

As mentioned in the last post, Thursday brought the first rain of the year.  Last year, the first rain was a light, but cold, spittle, little more than a mist, that barely got anything wet.  This year, the rain was torrentuous.  Several inches of rain fell in a very short amount of time.  On earth that hadn't seen a drop of moisture in nine months or more and likely had the consistency of hardened concrete.  Amman sits atop seven hills.  In between the hills run wadis, the Arabic word for river bed.  The wadis connect with one another all the way down to the Dead Sea, below sea level.

On Thursday afternoon, the heavy rain thundered through the wadis, wadi emptying out into wadi after wadi, until finally reaching the Dead Sea, splitting the canyon asunder and gushing into the sea.  Tragically, 21 elementary school students lost their lives in the flash flood which also wiped out a bridge on the highway.

With the Dead Sea Road closed, all traffic was on the Desert Road coming back to Amman Saturday night. The traffic was definitely heavier than it was driving down to Aqaba Friday morning, but didn't get really bad until we drove up behind a sea of brake lights and flashing hazards.  Cars stacked up behind us and we were soon boxed in between vegetable trucks.  We inched forward for a few minutes before coming to a complete stop.

We sat there for a few minutes, wondering what could be causing the blockage.  Truck drivers opened the doors of their cabs and leaned out, then stepped out of their trucks and walked to the side of the road to see if they could see what was causing the traffic jam. Then, people started walking past our car.  Had they abandoned their own vehicles and were now walking to Amman?  It was slightly apocalyptic: rows of abandoned cars on a freeway, zombies stalking from their cars in the night.

As we sat in the highway, we watched cars pass on the shoulder, as they inevitably do.  Then we saw cars get off the highway completely and bump across the desert, headlights shining to and fro as cars bounced over rocks and tumbleweeds.  Then we saw cars drive down the median. Box trucks tipped precariously dipping off the pavement into the steep gravel.  Finally, we saw a car drive down the opposite side of the highway into oncoming traffic.  Then two cars.  Three.  Four.  Before a whole lane of cars took over the opposite side of the freeway.

We finally decided to follow suit. When in Rome, right?  We made our way to the left side of the road and drove down into the median and up onto the opposite side of the freeway, looking to make sure no headlights were rushing at us from either direction.  To our right, finally, we saw the cause of the backup, a tractor trailer on its side, dozens of men milling around it as though contemplating lifting it out of the way, if that were possible.

We drove into oncoming traffic until we found a place safe enough to cross and work our way back on the right side of the road.  We were almost home, but drove slowly the rest of the way until we got home and rested our weary tailbones.