Magic Babushka: She's back!

In places I used to live, May was the month where we all started wearing our summer clothes too early. Glaring white legs held firm in shorts and outdoor seating was used even when teeth were chattering. I waited for those lilacs and goldenrods to show themselves, so I could abandon leggings and freeze my way to June.

Not in Singapore. Singapore May is a cooker. It's a cruel month after three uncomfortable ones that's leading right into an even hotter June. It's the end of school, the end of any hope of a bearable cool-ish morning, and the end of deodorant by 9:00am. There are a lot of reasons to be fragile in Singapore Mays: Grade reports need written, dear friends are moving, families are worried about transcripts, students are tired, teachers are tired, people are bracing for six weeks of visiting families they rarely see (and by people---all you dear readers---I don't mean us. We're EMbracing!), and well...everyone is really really hot. Things can get kind of passive aggressive or just outright aggressive at work. I can always rely on one or two truly bonkers days and out-of-character outbursts. I pass out a lot of chocolate macaroons to my co-workers. It's May and it's getting weird.

Last week, I made a slide in my daily slide shows that had a lot of sad pugs on it. It seemed like a good weapon at the time for battling student angst, the heat, and my encroaching feeling of May doom:

The results of my pug warfare have yet to be seen (secretly hoping for a pug in a school uniform to show up in my classroom as the Best Teacher Gift Ever).

This week I tried something new and probably equally unhelpful. Long ago, as a comfort to my strange self, I started doodling Magic Babushka. She's so wise. May needs lots and lots of Magic Babushkas. For a date with two dear friends tomorrow, I have two tucked in my purse with back-up signs for them to hold, proclaiming very encouraging phrases:

I'm learning about Adobe Illustrator as I go, and mostly I'm learning that I don't know much. She started black and white:

And then I played:

If you're thinking that having two of these in my purse is proof of the May Bonkers, then I might concur. However, with any luck, they will laugh...and we will be seated somewhere under the air conditioning.

Outward thinking

Today we think about positive things that are always true:

Generosity is happening all around us.

Dear friends who have given us more than we can ever return served us a decadent dinner on these placemats in June. I ogled them. And last week, my own set arrived in the mail.

I love Indian block prints with my whole whole heart!

Then I came home to a pile of hand-me-down clothes from the neighbors upstairs. And dear P took dear Gus to the pool this afternoon so I could draw and write and listen to podcasts. And in return, I'm channeling all that love into this card for a generous writer who mentored me this summer. Thank you JL for being so wise and so patient with someone so silly.

People will surprise you. Look for it:

This last week I spent three days on a remote island of Indonesia with 110 fourteen-year-olds on a field trip. Some especially quirky kiddos were amongst us. And as always, the group of people on the planet that gets the worst reputation (those selfish adolescent brats!) were the ones that humbled me the most and restored my faith in the goodness of humans and reminded me to always always always be kinder than you need to be. That said, I slept 13 hours last night to recover.

I have had some stupid weeks being tired and being stretched too thin and being frustrated in the right-now. They are self-inflicted woes, and they are really rather funny and embarrassing when you think on my laments, "Oh, if only I only worked part time but could still afford to keep the nanny...."  The common thread in all self-inflicted woe is looking inward. It's no good, people! Look away!

And so, this week I am trying to look outside of my inner-ridiculousness to a week where I notice what is good and joy-filled and worth emulating. Although, I do worry this will impact my sense of humor since the day I cried because the island had run out of quinoa and consequently panicked that staying here was ruining our health was super duper funny in retrospect. Perhaps another truth we'll live out is, "You can be ridiculous as long as you make fun of it later and don't ever do it again."

Being Luminous

This summer, at writing bootcamp, an amazing Newbery Honor author urged us fledgling writers to "be luminous." I'm trying to decide if that applies to blogging.

Things that are not luminous:

I currently base a day's success on how many vegetables I have hidden in the boys' foods. Yesterday's triumphs: clandestine veggies in oatmeal, cookies, popsicles, and smoothies. It was a five star day.

I am not writing or creating art. I am in creativity limbo, and it will end tomorrow when I will get my act together. It will happen! A big Monday is a-coming!

Things that ARE luminous:

My sister. She sent me two hand sewn skirts this summer (skirts with pockets!). They are wearable quilts of genius: 

New teachers. We are the welcoming committee at our school this year, and I feel pretty ridiculous that everyone needs far less help than I need on an annual basis, and I've lived here for almost eight years. They are competent. And kind. It's silly. I keep hoping someone will rampage, but they seem to just be pretty swell.

Tuesday. After I get my act together, there will be art to post to this. There will be works written. There will be peace on earth. Maybe.

 

 

The home stretch

It's the time of year when people start counting days. Thirty-two teaching days. Fifty-one Singapore days. Two public holidays. My Gus is counting fingers to ensure that he's ready when that fourth birthday rolls around. (352 days)

As the end of year approaches and the tidying up begins, our school is taking pictures of teachers for READ posters. My former poster was immortalized by clever L, who toted me on holiday (I wish I could have seen customs' faces when opening her suitcase), to evening bookclubs, and all the way to Starbucks for a post-run latte:

Flat Becky had herself a time. While those Flat Becky pics rank pretty high in the super-nice-things-friends-have-done-for-me files, I detested that poster of me looking wistful and all Manifest Destiny about poetry. This year, I held up a beloved coloring book and got to design my own background. I altered a former doodle from Gus's first birthday:

My sister was kind enough to point out that the title says "Read", and I'm a literature teacher holding a wordless coloring book. 

Ha ha ha.

Never you mind. That happy Coloring Book Becky is gleefully counting down days until she and Flat Becky converge in Ithaca for two nights with their L: 66. We've many missed lattes and long run-talks to make up for.

And at the same time, I'm dreading the June day until I have to say "see you later" to true rocks in my Singapore life---dear G and K. I scribble at night things that make me think on them, and they are piecing together into a wee goodbye gift:

Thankfully, they remain on the same continent and reliant on Nespresso pods. I have volunteered to be their mule, and there will be rendezvous.

I can't wait to get it on the calendar!

In-Between

Gus and I are celebrating one month in the loveliest of limbos today. We left Praha behind (and apparently this blog) for the mountain views, mud puddles, tractors, sprinklers, sandboxes, lakes, good dogs, small town parades, snakes, fresh picked raspberries, Mexican food, hikes, and overall amazingness of many good Grandmas and Grampas. If you are under the age of three, clothing is optional and you've probably added the phrase M & Ms to your vocabulary as well as an inch and or two to your height. Gus has had his first dental appointment (Success and smiles thanks to the best dentists on the planet), chicken nuggets, fish-catching, bear-sighting, and fire truck ride. Life is good in the Wenatchee Valley.

P arrived a few days ago, and the fun factor has only increased. We are tan and can't find our shoes. There are Northwest microbrews in the fridge and neighbors with warm swimming pools. Our family can't be beat, and baby M is one day away from being overdue. Goodness abounds.

It's not just little M that's on the horizon, it's Singapore too. I usually want time to slow down here at the ranch, but this year I'm torn. We've landed a condo we long coveted and that was long occupied by some of the very best folks we know, so good juju fills those walls and good living awaits. I am anxious to move my boys into it, to show Gus the geckos that will share our home, and to take him to all of our favorite haunts. There is so much for him to eat and see and so few days before I'm no longer a stay-at-home mom. I'm trying to savor here and ready myself for savoring there. It's an odd balance.

But it's been an odd balance from the start--leaving dear friends in Prague and settling in to a few weeks of dear friends and family in the states and moving on to dear friends and colleagues in Singapore. At the playground, moms I meet ask where I live, and the answer is so complicated their eyes just glaze over and they shuffle their kids over to the slide and away from the awkward lady. I can't blame them. 

I always wonder if we're doing the right thing during these times of transition, and this morning, at one of my less-awkward playground gatherings, a friend of P's quizzed us on overseas life. He and his family are teachers and contemplating a similar leap, and as we talked, P and I both got more animated and more excited. On the car ride home we enjoyed the buzz of knowing that whether in Singapore or Washington, we're doing what we love.

There is so much to love:

Lake Wenatchee. Sigh.

My attempt at Czech pickled hermelin.

Lucky, lucky boy.

 

Indian Summer

Despite a forecast of 75 degree weather for Monday, it feels like fall could descend at any time. And once it comes--it's frost and down jackets until April. So, Gus and I are quickly making the most of the farmer's market tomatoes. They are unreal.

(His pants, shirt, and face are filthy...not to mention the lost sock...and yet he couldn't get over the drip on the counter.)

There are cookies baked for a Sunday brunch. We've also got pumpkin roasting and black beans simmering for enchiladas that we'll take to a pumpkin-themed dinner party. It's a busy kitchen today.

September is ending with really enjoyable hustle and bustle: A post-mushroom-hunting feast (thanks, generous K family). A long bike ride with sock-tossing Gus. Impromptu dinners with neighbors. Birthday parties. Dreaming and scheming. And non-stop sunshine. 

Oh---sweet P posted my sketch to the ISP Sketchers website. People are doing good things. So happy to be sharing in that circle of art.

Onwards to October!

List of Praha Loveliness

After listening to a Freakonomics podcast on the Economics of Parenting, I'm feeling a little better. Apparently my ineptitude will not derange the little guy as long as I'm warm and loving and happy for having him. Gus and I both breathe sighs of relief and take heart that we abandoned cleaning for a spontaneous zoo day. Whew.

Other joys were discovered. I revisited the quirky Holesovice market and found it far more navigable and charming without a squealing four-month old strapped to my sweaty body. Gus ran between the zillion stalls of oddities and Neighbor B and I bought the biggest and cheapest bunches of basil you have ever seen. In addition, when I need a copy purse, Gus sized guitar, Hungarian potato pancake, or I heart Prague sweatshirt--I'll know where to return.

For now, I'm content with the basil pesto filling my freezer.

On a buying-local high, the next morning we met Tracy and her patient-with-Gus daughter S at yet another fabulous Praha farmers' market (Jihiro z Podebrad). While S lovingly wrangled wily G around the square (the latter flinging his Vietnamese noodles--thank goodness for the abundance of dogs), Tracy and I bought local butter (from the actual cow owners)*, Moravian cheese, homemade pasta, Bohemia grown raspberries, and cold pints of microbrew. I appreciate a town where one can push her stroller with a plastic cup in hand and receive nary a raised eyebrow.

And today--today little G and I took on our neighborhood market at an hour most folks found appropriate for sleeping. We grabbed some produce, more pasta, the last of the local strawberries, and two packages of fruit dumplings (svestkove knedliky). Steamed Czech dumplings covered in melted butter are one of the greatest things about living here. They are also lunch in this house.

This farmers' market bender is peppered with a visit to an uber-friendly and shockingly reasonable Czech glass bead shop where the shopkeepers--gasp--took Gus from me and gave him a homemade chocolate chip cookie and a bucket of beads to sift, and yet again, fling. When I left, we were all crunching beads underfoot and yet everyone was laughing and smiling and telling me how wonderful that was. I don't understand it, but I support it and will absolutely return.

And, perhaps most joy-producing for me, there is a triptych completed and awaiting its new owner. We hope it adds cheer to her daughter's room.

    

*Butter note: I am told by smart Tracy (does everyone know this?) that fresh butter changes color throughout the year based on what a cow is eating. Fresh grass vs. hay will alter the color. This makes me want to buy even more butter while the grass is green.

Blue skies smiling at me

I am getting over myself! As humbly happens, I recently went on a tirade about folks taking themseles too seriously. And then, heh heh heh, the same week I got all serious. Amy Carmichael wrote that we need to keep our spiritual "atmosphere" clear. If we allow even a "fugitive wisp of a cloud float across our sky"--that is, a wish for things to be different--then we create an overcast spirit.

Don't I know it.

I re-entered Praha with more than my fair shares of wishes. There were colds all around and a bee sting of gigantic (you've never seen cankles like this one) proportions. There have been cold rainy days and outings in August in-gasp-sweaters. Wily Gus has been frustrated with his boring old parents and longing along with us for his out-of-this-world grandparents in very loud and parenting-skill-testing ways. We're on doctor's visit number three. Already. This house has rattled and shook with wishes, and I've felt the result of that stinking thinking in an overcast heart.

But, no more gosh darn it! How can one hope for otherness when one has so much goodness? I take note:

1. A kinder-than-he-needs-to-be Tony M gave me a completely random and treasured gift of DELECTABLE Delirium Tremens. I can count the bottles of the golden Belgian awesomeness I've been privvy to enjoy in my life on one hand. At 8.5% that's probably enough for a lifetime. Get thee to a specialty bottle shop and buy your own pink elephant.

2. The farmers' market is back in action. There has been blue cheese walnut sauce on fresh tagliatelle pasta and berry filled dumplings and organic carrot carrot cake and farm fresh egg and veggie quiche on our table.

3. We've brunched and happy houred and biked and brewery toured and walked and dined and breakfasted and Skyped and coffeed and teaed and desserted and jogged and baby grouped with good folks. Today's gathering honored a special guest who leaves our Old MacDonald refrains for the big kids at skola. Gus will miss his musical pal Dee-Dee.

Worried about the toothpaste decorating the cake? (famers' market carrots carrot cake!)

4. I've returned to the drawing table with commission pieces and celebration doodles.

 
5. There are library books newly checked-out, hand-me-down dresses acquired, new babies born, road trips planned, awfully nice neighbors relied upon (perhaps no longer with prepositions hanging out there like that), and Desigual sales attended.

Blue skies!

 

 

 

Today's List

I ate nearly an entire head of cauliflower. (Thanks a lot for the recipe, Kaye Syrah. I'll let you know what happens to a girl who eats this much cauli in one sitting.) 

I played at the park with three very lovely women and their energetic children.

I hugged a new neighbor and waved at a friendly landlord.

I CALLED my son to lunch because he was playing BY HIMSELF.

I texted the US for free. 

I read an article on healthy eating that has me all fired up about low fat products.

I spent less than a buck on two gorgeous bunches of fresh basil and made it into almond pesto.

I doodled a gaudy little thank you card that does not come anywhere close to thanking the people that need to be thanked.

And I woke up before Gus did.

Praha is looking up.

Homecomings

We touched down in Praha last night. The re-entry is less bewildering than last year, but not without its reminders that we are still Czech Republic novices. We'd been home less than an hour when a kindly passerby hollered at us--thinking we'd dropped something from our stroller. Of course, not speaking Czech, we ignored his comments until they reached full-on shouts. Sigh. We forgot that we spend a lot of time dodging yells. 

There is much to sort. Closets and suitcases and groggy post-summer brains. Last summer we were too new at parenting to really understand how a Gus alters one's priorities. But this year, this year we have a lot on which to think. It's always tough business on our hearts leaving the ranch, but it's far more difficult when a rowdy G gets six weeks of four-wheeler rides, mud puddles, swimming pools, doggie cuddles, sprinkler parties, swing sets, sandboxes, lizard chasings, cousin loving, and non-stop grandma and grampa antics. Oy. Re-entry is weighty.

I feel like I spend a lot of time asking overseas families how they cope and how they structure time and how they make things work, and the answers are never the same. This is our own little adventure to figure out, and thankfully I've got two pretty great men with which to do that solving. 

This early morning, however, (2:30 was rise and shine time today) is not the time for the solving, so we'll stay tuned. And instead today, as we chase a grandparent-lonesome-Gus, (missing them muchly ourselves) we'll be grateful for a grand six weeks on a gorgeous ranch with a fabulous family. And not ones to shy from a challenge, we'll--gasp--take on the dreaded post office. And if we're not too shell-shocked from that, we'll dodge more shouts and treat ourselves to some Czech cookin'. Welcome "home", Greens.

Good peeps.

Even better peeps. (Hopefully some of C's congeniality will rub off on serious G)

Aw.

Summering

We take summer very seriously at this house. There are lists and suitcases and croissants stuffed with goodness for long flights and low-blood-sugared fliers. But after that, it's all outdoors and food and family. This summer has many unplanned days and few expectations. Perfect. We've got a solid-sleeping Gus and a generous Grandma. Yeee-haw!

Life will be unplugged. Blogging will be sparse, but the adventures (or maybe just lazy mornings) will be many. 

Happy Summer, all.