Why are we like this in our family?

Jet lag to the west seems easier than jet lag to the east. I'm not sure whether it's because of the time of day that I travelled or simply because I'm coming home (without ever quite having settled into a schedule across the pond) but it was easier to fall back into the everyday happenings at home. 

Thursday we had gardening club and then swim team. Here's Phoebe working in the garden in her swim suit and by "working" I mean eating a bunch of herbs that Miss Mim let her grab—here she's holding dill and stuffing parsley into her mouth.

We went swimming between gardening club and swim practice. Today Phoebe asked to swim before swim practice as well. Her practices haven't started yet so she feels a little left out when it comes to pool time. So we went swimming this afternoon (after doing a bunch of work around the house) and then sat around while the big kids had their practice. 

Today was popsicle day. They handed out popsicles after each swim session and Phoebe ran up to get one each time. We have a child in each swim session, so that worked out to three popsicles for Phoebe! She was not sad about it and we've reached the glorious stage of life where all of our children can functionally eat a freeze-pop of this sort (I would call them "freezies"; others might call them "otter pops"; whatever you call them, Phoebe understands the art of pushing the ice to the top to eat and didn't even get sticky in the process).

My friend Heather was chatting to Phoebe while waiting for her kids to swim and Phoebe casually dropped the fact that she's, like, really good at scootering these days. She's just, like, really fast and stuff. 

Heather was like, "Oh, wow! What colour is your scooter?"

"It's pink," Phoebe told her. "But I also have another one that's red."

And that's on her for being the youngest of six because she has hand-me-down toys from everyone. The pink scooter I bought for $5 for Miriam back when we lived in Durham and the red scooter I got from the Buy Nothing Group here when Alexander was ready for a scooter but Zoë was still into the pink scooter (these would be the "little kid" 3-wheeled scooters...I won't even mention our "big kid" 2-wheeled scooters). We have a lot of kid equipment floating about. 

"Which scooter is faster?" Heather asked. "The pink one or the red one?" 

Phoebe stared at her for a few seconds, clearly (low-key) offended. 

"Ummm...I said that I was good at scootering..." she clarified. 

"I see," Heather chuckled. "It isn't so much about the scooter as it is about your skill. I hear you, I hear you. She's like, 'Lady—an artist doesn't blame her tools. This is about me not the scooter.'" 

Heather is hilarious. 

I'm glad swim team is back on because we don't run in the same circles during the school year. 

*****

To apply for our Qatari visas we've had to do a lot of document gathering. 

Birth certificates for everyone. Our marriage license. Diplomas. Transcripts....

All original documents, too. They don't want photocopies. They want certified originals, but they also cautioned us not to send in our only copies, so we've been ordering duplicate documents and...it's been a bit of a hassle. 

I had a long email chain with UGA's registrar about getting a special verification letter that had to include a long list of facts about each semester that I have attended. When I opened up my transcript that should have had the verification letter inside, all I found was a letter that read "Attached are the official school documents for Nancy Pearl Heiss"

There wasn't even a period at the end of the sentence.

So I sent a follow-up email to the registrar, explaining again what the letter needed to include verification that:

• The degree information on record is accurate and authentic.
• The University of Georgia is a public academic institution.

Additionally, the letter must also include the following details:

• Degree type: Master’s
• Major: Literacies and Children’s Literature
• Date awarded: December 15, 2023
• Duration of the program: 3 years, 4 months
• Dates of study: August 2020–December 2023
• Enrollment type: Full time
• Mode of attendance: On-campus, face to face, with some courses taken remotely due to COVID restrictions
• Primary location for all instruction, coursework, examinations: Athens, Georgia, USA

I explained that I was aware that the transcript technically includes a lot of that information already. Nonetheless they want this information stated in a letter as well. Why? I couldn't tell you. 

It makes me feel a little bit like when I was trying to enroll my kids in school in Georgia but I couldn't use my vaccination records from Utah because they aren't on Georgia letterhead and, like, does that make it so that you can't read that they're fully vaccinated against chicken pox somehow? I hope not...and yet...I had to get all our records transferred to Georgia letterhead before the school would accept them. 

This was an elementary school, mind you.

At least we're now dealing with a foreign country here and not just...another state within the same country, right? So we can have a little bit of grace and assume they just, yes, they actually would like you to point out where all the pertinent information is on the transcript. 

It still feels redundant, but that's okay.

Anyway, I wrote and email to remind her of this and she had the audacity to write back to me, asking, "Did you read the letter fully that we provided? It does state that information other than the on campus part. This is the information we provide for all students. The company you are referring to is welcome to reach out to us via email if they have additional questions. Our verification letter and transcripts state everything we provide."

So I wrote back (a little snippy because the letter I had was ten words long): 

I did read the letter in full (it was a quick read), but I am now wondering if I didn't receive the correct letter. Is it possible I received the wrong letter?

My letter reads: "Attached are the official school documents for Nancy Pearl Heiss" (and that is all).

I understand that most of what is required in the verification letter is on the transcript already, but the verification letter also needs to have the information I listed.

And she wrote back with a PDF of the letter she apparently sent to me, which did have all the information listed. So I wrote back to tell her that that was a beautiful letter but that...it was not in the envelope that I was given at the registrar's office...so if I could just get that letter printed out on UGA letterhead we would be all set. 

And she was like, "Oh. My bad."

So that's what I went to go pick up when Rachel, Miriam, and I went to campus at the end of April. 

I had also ordered an extra copy of my diploma since I had to notarize my diploma—right on the diploma—and fold it up and everything to mail it to the embassy. That was set to arrive on May 9. 

Andrew waited to send in our documents until it arrived. Finally the day came. 

I was in Europe still so he opened the package, which was addressed to me.

Inside, however, was a diploma addressed to some gal named Daniela [Redacted]. 

He opened the box and found that, yes, he was holding the diploma of Daniela [Redacted]. 

I wrote to the registrar's office and explained the problem—we had received a package addressed to me but inside found a tube addressed instead to Daniela [Redacted].

"Did you happen to open the tube to see if the diploma was yours or Daniela's? It might still be yours inside," they wrote back.

So I sent them a picture of the diploma, which is 100% not my diploma. 

And she was like, "Agreed, that's not your diploma..."

So they sent me another one and must have super rushed it because it arrived today. 

The package was addressed to me, so we were off to a good start. I opened that an the tube inside had a big ol' sticker with my name on it—that's 2 for 2! 

I peeled off the sticker, set it aside, and opened the tube. 

The diploma inside also had my name on it—3 for 3! 

But when I opened the diploma on my lap I some how snagged the sticker and it plastered itself to the (thankfully) back of the diploma. That two second mistake took about ten minutes of careful peeling to get it back off my brand new diploma. It still left sticky residue on the back, so I rubbed it with a dry cloth until the sticky stuff wasn't sticky anymore and the back was left just a little smudgy instead. 

I couldn't believe I had come so close to ruining my brand new diploma! I mean, I am not sure that I intend to ever display my diploma anywhere anyway, but it's the principle of the thing! 

Fortunately, Rachel and Miriam were around when I opened it so they provided an enthusiastic laugh track for me while I worked to remove the sticker. Such helpful girls!

*****

Andrew was in the bathroom when we heard a clatter and a high pitched, "Oh, no!!"

"What's wrong?" we hollered.

"Nothing brote!" he called out, using one of Alexander's toddler catch phrases (whenever he dropped anything he'd yell, "Nothing brote!" and it's stuck) to tell us that nothing terrible had happened.

But he emerged from the bathroom in tears with laughter. 

Somehow when he went to put soap on his hand he knocked the dispenser off balance and it went shooting right off the counter, performing a perfect swan dive into the still-flushing toilet. He panicked and stuffed his hand down into the toilet along with the soap dispenser to grab it before it managed to get itself sucked into the U-bend (or whatever) and then just...

I mean, we all quickly empathized with the "Oh, no!!" he had let loose earlier.

Sometimes when people write me emails and ask things like, "Did you read our letter in its entirety?" I feel all sanctimonious, like, "Ma'am, I'm getting a doctorate degree in literac(ies) so, yes, I'm fully capable of reading a letter, thank you very much!"

And other times I look at how our household (headed by 1.5 PhD holders) runs and I think to myself, "You should definitely question both our sanity and skill level."

*****

Andrew ordered pizza for dinner while the rest of us were at the pool and after dinner I went for a walk with Rachel, Miriam, and Benjamin while the little kids played with friends and Andrew caught up on some work. 

We were just walking down the hill when we encountered a strange thing: a car "stuck" perpendicular in the road, with another car approaching. 

The approaching car wanted to go around the perpendicular car, but didn't feel like it had enough room. The perpendicular car waved it through. It inched forward and stopped. The perpendicular car backed up a bit. The car inched forward again before stopping. The perpendicular car backed up a bit more. The car inched forward some more. The perpendicular car backed up a bit more...a bit too rapidly...and there was a loud popping, crunching sound.

All four of us stopped and gasped. 

The car that had wanted to go through pulled through, then kind of stopped to holler something at the perpendicular car before driving away. 

The perpendicular car started inching forward. 

We were sure it had hit the neighbour's mailbox (it had) but what we were completely surprised to find was that the mailbox had stood its ground. It was the car's rear window that had given way—it completely shattered. 

Glass was everywhere. 

Sure, the mailbox's door was hanging by one corner, and the brickwork around the border of the garden bed there was going to need some fixing up, but the car definitely was the one limping away from that fight. 

It was a hatchback, so it largely missed the mailbox post and the box itself just went...right through the glass somehow.

There was a "student driver" sticker on the back of the car and that sticker was seriously doing a lot of work in this scenario. 

We were just astounded that there were three occupants in the vehicle, all of whom are adults (summer sales people) and none of them realized they were about to slowly explode the back window somehow. I'm not sure who was teaching who or if the sticker was old but whatever the case there were three 20-somethings in that car all wondering what to do next. 

I honestly didn't know either, but we did memorize the license plate so we can tell our neighbour if we need to because I'm not sure those kids (adults) are going to take the high road here. I'm not really sure what this neighbour's name is...we refer to him as "guy with the fluffy white dog," which isn't very official.

We'll check in on him nonetheless. Because we do talk with him when we walk by him. I just...don't remember his name.

*****

Oh, I forgot to write about getting gas on Thursday. Ugh. 

Gas is so expensive these days. 

And I hate getting gas under the best of circumstances. I don't know why we ever did away with full-service. And I was just so tired...and we were already running late to gardening club and...

Rachel said she'd pump for me if we got gas, so we went to the gas station on our way to gardening club. 

The first pump I stopped at said "pay inside only" so we said "no thanks" and circled around to another one that allowed "pay at pump."

I got out with Rachel so I could wash the windows while she gassed up, but the squeegees and solution was available at request "inside only."

What is the world coming to?!

So I was like, "We will wash the windows another day, I guess..." and I looked over and saw Rachel had put the nozzle into my tank and pressed "premium."

Premium?! In this economy?!

"Rachel, what are you doing?" I asked before she could start pumping. 

"I'm..."

"You pressed premium!" I said. 

"Oh, no!" she said, pulling the nozzle back out. "Uhhhh... What do we do?"

"I...don't actually know."

"Just...get a little bit of premium and then start over?"

"I don't want to get any bit of premium!" I said. "I'll go inside and ask."

So I went inside to ask ("Hello, I have a stupid question..."). 

Turns out you simply...hang it up...and start over. 

Rachel had figured that out just as I was coming back outside. 

"Let's start again," she said. 

"Here's my card," I said, holding my card out to her. 

But it sling-shotted out of my hand and clattered all over the place, bouncing between the gas pump and the garbage can and the curb and the pole and the...

(Why are we like this in our family?!)

So, anyway, we eventually caught the card, paid for the cheapest gas, and I climbed back into the driver's seat...and promptly dropped my card between my seat and the middle console before I could put it away and had to dig around for it while the gas was pumping. 

(Why are we like this in our family?!)

And then, of course, the pump stopped automatically at $67 and all the kids in the backseat chorused, "SIX SEVEN!"

(Why are we like this in our family?!)

*****

So, anyway, I don't know if jet lag is really getting to me or if this is just how we normally are...