Eid al-Adha: The streets ran with blood

We were planning on taking Christmas pictures yesterday while we were out in Islamic Cairo with the Schillings and Courtenay, who had stayed a day longer than the other girls who stayed at our house. When I woke up in the morning, however, I...well...I never really woke up.

When I started having children of my own, my mom gave me this advice:

Never have a baby and a teenager at the same time.

This week I found out why. It's because it's really, really hard. Something about staying up to wait for the teenagers to come home...and then listening to them tell you about everything they did that day...and then waiting for them to go to bed...and then getting up a few hours later with the baby...


Well, it's just hard, and long, and tiring.

It didn't help that Rachel was sleeping in our room so that we'd have beds and rooms for all the girls to sleep in. Every time we'd go to bed, Rachel would wake up screaming. And even though she would stay awake for a half hour to an hour at 2 AM, she still managed to get up for the day before 8 o'clock in the morning.

And I just don't think I would wish having a baby and a teenager on anyone. I don't know how my mom did it!

It's not that we minded having those girls stay with us. It's just that I was tired. I was so tired. And I woke up not feeling great.

So Andrew took Rachel for the day, and he went out with Courtenay and Carolee and Josh, leaving me home to sleep. I didn't mind one bit. I slept and slept and slept until around 2 PM when they called to have me meet them for lunch. When I woke up my headache was almost gone and I felt a ton better.

I decided that I could walk all the way to the Maadi Grand Mall to meet them for lunch and I was amazed at the sights that met me on the street.

It's Eid al-Adha, or the day of sacrifice. It's a huge holiday during the month of al-Hijjah. The streets were deserted, except for children. They were full of children. Children, children everywhere. It reminded me of Christmas afternoon--after the presents are opened and the children are going crazy so the parents just send them outside to play.

Except it was worse. There were babies Rachel's age out with their seven-year-old siblings. There were kids toting air guns, shooting at people. Yes, shooting at people. Courtenay got shot in the arm. There were kids running in the street, playing games everywhere, and swarming the mall--even though all the stores were closed except for the one restaurant we had decided to go to and it was absolutely swarming with children.

The few adults I saw were covered in blood and carrying bags full of carcasses, absolutely dripping with blood. It was rather grotesque.


Apparently what I saw was nothing, though. In Islamic Cairo it was far, far worse. The streets were running with blood. Andrew et al. walked from the Citadel to Sultan Hassan, and from there to Ibn Tulun. Usually you have to jump out of the street to avoid puddles of mud. Yesterday, however, it was to avoid puddles of blood.


Cars would drive by and spray blood everywhere, and you'd jump onto the sidewalk to avoid getting splashed only to find yourself trapped by a pile of goatskins--and you'd have to leap over another bloody, muddy puddle to continue on your way.


I am so glad that I stayed home to sleep. I can hardly stand walking past a butcher shop. Andrew et al. said the whole of Islamic Cairo smelled of fresh blood and death.

I suppose it's kind of like our Thanksgiving several years ago when people would actually do their own slaughtering. And that's probably why I was born in this generation--so that I can just go to the store and buy a pre-slaughtered, pre-drained, pre-plucked turkey. I can't deal with that much blood.

(In fact, like Bridget, I can't even deal with raw meat so I'm afraid that if I'm ever in charge of Thanksgiving dinner it will forever be sans turkey, unless Andrew wants to cook one, which I'm sure he doesn't.)

It makes me gag just to think about it. It gives me shivers--a huge case of the heebejeebes!

Even though I know it's just blood from goats and cows I can't help but think of all those descriptions of horror that I've heard. Rusesabagina described the streets after the Rwanda genocide as "running with blood." Truthfully I didn't think it was possible for a street to actually fill up with blood. But it is.

Flanders field was described of as red with blood. Again, I thought this was metaphorical. The Land of Desolation in the Book of Mormon, with descriptions of bodies heaped upon the earth? I also thought that was perhaps over exaggerating a bit. Not literal...

But seeing these pictures made it possible for me to picture Flanders field, Rwanda, and all those Book of Mormon battles a little differently. I think I just wanted to think, in my mind, to help save my lunch, that those descriptions were figurative or poetic. But they weren't.

Streets really can, and sometimes do, run with blood.


But they all had a fun time, despite the blood and hordes of unsupervised children everywhere. Andrew got some cute pictures of Rachel on the roof of Ibn Tulun, and Courtenay got some cute pictures of Andrew taking said cute pictures.




We had a good lunch together at Arzak, despite the stories of carnage encountered on the street and the fact that the restaurant was overrun by unruly children. When we were finished we headed home, still discussing all the slaughtering that Andrew and Courtenay had seen.

"And there were heads just hanging all over the place...and hooves and tails and organs scattered in the street...and blood running everywhere...and skins piled up this high...and...and...and..."

I just kept affirming that I was glad I hadn't been with them. Because I really was glad that I wasn't there.

We turned to walk down our street, Andrew and Courtenay still nattering on and on.

And then we heard a swoosh of water and had to jump out of the way of a guy squeegeeing off a driveway. Almost being sprayed with water like that is fairly normal so it took me a few seconds to realize that I had not leaped out of the way of dirty water. I had leaped out of the way of...blood.


Our neighbours had slaughtered what looks like a cow and were in the process of cleaning off their driveway right when we walked by. I had to keep walking, but Courtenay stopped to snap this picture.

That's my street covered in blood! And here I thought I'd avoided all the sacrifices so well...

****

Courtenay and I went out to Khan al-Khalili later on in the day, my first time directing a taxi without Andrew's help. I spoke to the driver in Arabic--because he took the Ring Road to downtown, and for some reason I thought he'd take the Kornishe. So I asked him if he was sure he was going to the right place and he just explained he was going to take the Autostrade. I felt successful, even though our conversation was short.

Luckily we didn't see any blood running down the streets when we got downtown, but we did see that they had been collecting goatskins all day and there were huge piles of skins. Stacked as high as our dining room table, probably. Kind of gross.

But the Khan was clean, at least as clean as the Khan can be. What I mean is, there wasn't any blood. It was still pretty dirty.

Rachel looking at some scarabs in the Khan

It was eerily empty, though. We'd turn down an alley and it would be completely empty--no vendors, no open stores, everything closed up for eid. Road Nine was the same way--almost every store was closed--which is why we went to the Khan in the first place. There were still enough stores open, though, and Courtenay was able to find the rest of the souveneirs she wanted.

Rachel and I spent most of our time just chatting to vendors. I'm pleased to announce that I've lot the tourist-look and, although I will never have a chance of being mistaken as a local, I am recognized as "living here."

We walked past one man, named Mohamed, and he called out to Courtenay, "Hello, tourist!"

She walked on by and kept looking for hot deals.

"You're not a tourist," Mohamed said to me. "I can tell."

I asked him how.

"You come here with your baby and a sweater. You don't look impressed by any of this. You know it's winter. And you speak to me in Arabic. She comes here with a backpack and a bag and is wearing a t-shirt and looks really excited to be here."

I told him he was, for the most part, right.

"You probably live in Maadi," he said, "Does your husband work or study?"

Right again. I told him my husband studies.

"At AUC?"

Ummm...yup. What is this? Does he read my blog?

He was really nice and we chatted with him and his friends while Courtenay looked for a lantern. He let Rachel hold his cell phone and turned on some music so that she could dance. He wondered why we didn't pierce her ears. So I told him that in America not all the girls get their ears pierced. I told him that I didn't have my ears pierced and he found that really amusing...because all girls have pierced ears.

Anyway, we had a really good time. Courtenay is really great at bargaining. I think I may have learned a few new tactics from her.

Soon it was time for us to go; I was a little worried about catching a cab because the streets were so empty, but there are always tourists coming and going so we were able to find one right away. Courtenay asked the taxi to take us to Maadi and he agreed to. When we got in I clarified that we needed Sakanat al-Maadi, and he said he knew where that was.

He even said that I spoke beautiful Arabic, which was funny because all I said was, "Sakanat al-Maadi."

When we got to Maadi I was able to direct him all the way to our apartment without getting lost. He told me that he didn't know Maadi well, so I just said left (shamaal), right (yemin), and straight ahead (ala tool) where applicable. And then I used my wonderful Jordanian to tell him "Houn kwais" or "Here's good." I should have said "Henna kwais," but I just haven't adopted that yet.

But I got us home! Without getting lost! And without running into rivers of blood!

Coptic Cairo

The YSA from Jordan arrived much earlier in the day on Thursday than the other YSA in our district; Andrew and I took them out to Coptic Cairo, so that they didn't just sit at the church being bored, while Melissa ran to Carrefour to get some last minute things she needed for the conference.

It was...an interesting experience. I thought it would be alright because they're all grown ups, right? Wrong.

Herding 13 foreigners (okay, 11 Jordanians and 2 Americans) around Cairo was much more difficult than we thought it would be. It was the first time being out of the country for most of the Jordanians, and although Amman is big (pop. 2,125,4000), Cairo is huge (pop. 7,947,121) and different. It was fairly obvious that the Jordanians were foreigners, even though they look Egyptian enough, they aren't.

They kept insisting that they spoke Arabic, so they'd be fine. Let me say, again, that Cairo is huge and Amman is not so huge. Amman is a sprawling, and rather rural city. Still big, but not huge. Those from Al Husn, which barely registers on a map, were insisting the same thing. I admire their sense of adventure, but really...really?

This was the first time out of the country for many of them, their first plane ride.

And Egypt is rather different than Jordan.

"Just give us the address," they insisted, "We will find it. We speak Arabic."

And then a car would come down the street and we'd have to herd them out of the way.

Riding the metro? What a mess.

We gave them all two tickets--one for the way there and one for the way back. We should have just given them one because you have to hold onto the ticket to get back out of the metro and...ugh. It was just a big mix up.

We told them the stop we wanted was Mar Girgis. And then we waited for the train. When the train got there they meandered their way over to the train while the warning bell was sounding instead of running to jump on. We ended up fighting with the doors to be able to get everyone on because they just wouldn't hurry up.

Once on the train I told them, again, that we wanted Mar Girgis. I showed them where we boarded the train, and showed them where Mar Girgis was on the metro map. We had 5 stops.

When we stopped at Maadi station, about half of them got ready to get off the train. We had to stop them before they disembarked and I told them, once again, that we were going to Mar Girgis. 4 stops.

We got to Hadayak. Would you like to guess if they tried to get off the train again or should I just tell you?

They tried to get off the train...again. So I explained again...that we had 3 more stops.

It was an interesting train ride. Trying to be helpful, some of the Jordanian males herded all the girls into one corner of the wagon so that we'd be separated from all the Egyptian males.

That's how things work in Jordan, and I kind of appreciate it, but that's not how things work here. In Jordan, often but not always, if a woman gets on a bus the conductor will rearrange the whole bus so that the woman doesn't have to sit by a man. In Egypt it doesn't work that way. Sometimes a man will give up his seat, but you'll always be surrounded by men unless you take the women's car. End of story.

So we ended up in a big mob, right in front of the door, the whole way down the line and it was rather inconvenient for the rest of the population of Egypt. Luckily Rachel was looking rather cute--kind of like a tired little koala bear snuggled up on her Daddy's shoulders--and everyone was very forgiving.


We all made it to Mar Girgis, though, and we herded them off the metro and into Coptic Cairo, stopping to take pictures every 5 feet or so. Mustn't miss a photo op.

Andrew and I had to split up; he led the tour up front and I brought up the rear, nagging and nagging and nagging about the need to move on. Really, though, once we were in the walls of Coptic Cairo, it wasn't that bad. There isn't really anywhere to get lost...

And there is a lot to see. So mostly we just went slowly, taking pictures of everything as we went.

Rachel and Samah (from Al-husn)

We found a nativity!

Rachel was a hit, as always, with all the Copts. She got fig bars, date bars, cookies, and a whole lot of hugs and kisses. She and I had a little break from all the attention she was getting--from both the Copts and the YSA from Jordan--outside one of the chapels. Rachel enjoyed her cookies and everyone else went inside to see the cave the holy family hid in (one of several that exist in Coptic Cairo).


When we headed out of the church compound in Coptic Cairo to find the Ben Ezra synagogue, we lost several of the YSA. Some people went to find souvenirs, others went to find refreshments.

I stood by and waited for some of the YSA to finish getting completely ripped off; they didn't want my help figuring out prices because they spoke Arabic and could handle it themselves. And Andrew found the ones trying to buy ice cream.

Watching the interplay of cultures and language of Jordanian and Egyptian Arabs was interesting. While it is true that they both speak Arabic, it is kind of like an American going to London. I've been to London and I know that I get lost there, even though I speak English. The English that I speak quite a bit different than the English spoken in London, so while we understand each other for the most part, there are several possibilities for miscommunication.

My favorite story of such miscommunication is when Andrew found those ice-cream-buying YSAs asking for "booza."

In Jordanian Arabic booza means ice cream. In Egyptian Arabic booza means an illegal alcoholic beverage made of fermented bread, kind of like kvas in Russia (only it's legal in Russia).

If you want to find ice cream in Egypt you have to ask for "ice cream." So much for speaking Arabic.

Hanging out to dry

Andrew put Rachel on the towel rack after her bath yesterday. Luckily she has good balance.

December Tags

Two tags for you. The first is an "8" tag from Lydia. The second is a picture tag from my sister; actually it wasn't really a tag but she kind of made it sound like a tag and I thought it would be fun to share, so...

Eight Favorite Shows
1. The Office (the only show we watch here--we ordered it on iTunes as a little treat for ourselves)

Really, really we don't watch TV all that often. There's rarely anything good on so we just watch The Office as soon as we can get it--usually sometime on Friday night. Here are some other shows that I used to watch...

2. Everybody loves Raymond
3. The Muppet Show
4. Saved by the Bell, Friends, silly sitcoms like that
5. Hogan's Heroes/Beverly Hillbillies/Bewitched/Gilligan's Island (my mom had a subscription of sorts and we got these shows on VHS tape)
6. Little House on the Prairie
7. My in-laws introduced me to Fawlty Towers, which is pretty much hilarious.
8. Oh, and when we moved to Utah my family would sometimes stay up on Saturdays to watch The Red Green Show, the Red Dwarf, and My Hero.

Eight Things I did yesterday
1. Went to church
2. Sang Christmas Songs
3. Took Rachel to the potty (several times)
4. Went for a felucca ride on the Nile
5. Watched Brian Regan and the Office
6. Made pumpkin cake
7. Spent a lot of time visiting with friends
8. Fasted and prayed for my cousin Jenna and her baby (although technically only Andrew fasted because Rachel's still nursing. Yes, still).

Eight Favorite Restaurants
1. Winger's
2. Bhua Khao
3. Mimi's Cafe
4. Boston Pizza
5. I really like Panda Express orange chicken, but really just the orange chicken. And Kung Pow.
6. Oh, that one Tibetan restaurant that Uncle Matt took us to. That was yummy.
7. Peter's drive in
8. Pretty much any gelateria. Lemon gelato. Always. Andrew insists that "Old Bridge" has the best gelato ever. We got gelato there on our honeymoon. It's basically nextdoor to the Vatican, so if you're ever in the neighbourhood, stop by!

Eight things I'm looking forward to
1. YSA Conference being over (it was fun, but it is time)
2. Babysitting the Lewis kids (we're crazy. I know)
3. Andrew having an actual job one day
4. Rachel to be 100% consistent with her potty usage
5. Sleep
6. Having another baby (not an announcement)
7. David coming to visit us
8. The end of the semester

Eight things I'm not looking forward to
1. Cleaning my house
2. The end of Eid
3. Rachel's 2nd birthday
4. Waking up in the morning. It always comes too soon.
5. The slaughter tomorrow
6. Working. I never wake up and think, "Oh, goody! I think I'll sort through some emails!" I just don't.
7. The talent show at the Christmas party. Andrew and I haven't practiced at all.
8. Clipping Rachel's nails. I hate doing that.

Eight things on my wish list
1. Like Lydia, a self-cleaning kitchen house
2. Lasik. Yes. One day I want to see.
3. Andrew to magically be finished with his schooling
4. To travel the world
5. To not be quite so strapped financially
6. A mosquito/ant/rat/cockroach/any-other-icky-thing free house
7. To find a store that makes affordable, cute clothes for tall, skinny people
8. A new piece of jewelry. (There, Andrew. I put that one on for you. Nothing big and gaudy. Just small-ish. But nice. But not something that will break the minute Rachel looks at it.)

Ugh. There. That was so hard for me today. I don't know why. Eight is just such a big, daunting number, I guess. Still fun though. Thanks, Lydia!

And now for the Christmas Picture post. My sister asked what my favorite Christmas things are....

First of all, this pot.


It's not hot chocolate. It's cloves and cinnamon simmering on our back burner. It makes our house smell Christmasy, which makes us feel like it could possibly be Christmastime because usually we don't feel that way. It was 80 some-odd degrees outside today!

Next, our snowflakes. We are still in the process of making them. I know I don't like the cold, but snowflakes are still pretty.



Sometimes I have Rachel color on them before I cut them out so that she feels like she's participating more. I don't let her use scissors yet.

Then there's our Charlie Brown Christmas tree with our lovely salt dough decorations and nativity set.


Our miniature nativity set.



And our Christmas stockings, of course.


Those are all our Christmas things here. Just little touches of home. I suppose this is the most authentic Christmas ever since we're actually in the Middle East.

Anyway, I'm tired and words are not coming out right...so tomorrow...I'll write better. For now I'm going to bed.

Sermon on the Nile

Yesterday afternoon we went out with the YSA from Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel, and Syria to have a devotional on the Nile. Unfortunately it was several people's first time in Egypt on the Nile and it just wasn't a very good day for a felucca ride. The air quality was so poor we could hardly see down the street or across the river and there was no breeze so we didn't really go anywhere; we just sat by the shore looking at trash.

What we were hoping for was a fast-paced trip around the island and back while we enjoyed a colorful sunset. What we got was this:



Our "captains" sailed out a few yards and then tied our feluccas together and we just sat on the water for an hour. Doing nothing. No sailing. At all. Our captains just sat there and didn't even try to go anywhere. I suppose that since we had the same captain as the time we got stuck in the middle of the Nile, we should be grateful he just stuck us close to shore this time. I suppose we can't really blame them for the lack of wind.

We all had a fine time, anyway, and having the boats siddled up together made it kind of fun. We were able to share our devotional with the other boat--Tasi and Pita had been planning on giving the devotional there but ended up with two throwing-up kids instead--and we could walk freely between the boats so could visit with everybody.

We were a little nervous to start our devotional, though. Bearing testimony to a boatload of strangers is hard to do. I really admire missionaries a whole lot more now than ever before. I struggle bearing my testimony in sacrament meeting, so getting up in front of all these people I hardly knew at all was rather intimidating. It isn't that I'm ashamed of my testimony of Jesus Christ; it's simply that I'm shy.

Finally, though, with enough poking and prodding, I got Andrew to jump up and start talking. In order for both boats to hear him, he stood balancing with one foot on either boat. I, however, was wearing a skirt and was not quite that daring. I just stood in our boat and spoke as loud as I could. Which wasn't very loud.

Getting settled

Andrew giving a sermon...on the Nile

The inspiration for our devotional came when I was flicking through my friends' blogs, trying to read what they had written as fast as possible. My friend Stephanie mentioned a quote by Elder Worthlin, about having a positive attitude and laughing instead of moaning. I thought that would be a good topic, so that's what we went with.

Andrew started with some scripture references, namely D&C 78:17-18 (one of Andrew's favorites), Romans 8:28 (one of my favorites), and Psalm 37:4. Then he gave some scriptoral examples of how things that looked like they wouldn't work out did, because of the Lord, namely the Fall, the missing 116 pages, etc. He also mentioned how Elder Bednar calls these lovely coincidences the "tender mercies" of the Lord.

Then he turned the time over to me so that I could mention some miracles in our life, namely some of these and this one. I ended my section by sharing the story of the cyst on Rachel's brain and how scared I was that she wouldn't be born healthy. Granted I blew the whole thing out of proportion, but I was pregnant and the doctor told me to the face that there was a chance my pregnancy would either spontaneously terminate or that the baby would die shortly after delivery. Just a chance, which I already knew. There's always a chance of that happening. But to have the doctor tell you that? That was hard.

My cousin Jenna wrote me an email when she heard about it and I shared her testimony:

Keep your head up - your baby will probably be perfectly healthy. Have faith and know that Heavenly Father and your family will be there for you no matter the outcome and that their love will lift you up and help you get through ANYTHING!

And that helped me come to grips with what the doctors had told me. Jenna had recently burried a baby and she was, amazingly enough, still happy. Plus she was pregnant and due just about the same time that I was so it was rather easy to relate to her.

I added my testimony to hers, that, with the strength of the Lord, we can overcome any trial. The hymn The Lord is my Light came to mind, but I didn't share that. But it came to mind.

I could feel the spirit so strongly and I know that others did, too. I know this because when we were leaving the boat one of the captains (the young one who cut his hand) said, very sincerely, to me,

"That was nice. That was nice. That was very, very nice. That was, oh! Nice! Thank you! That was nice! Thank you, thank you, very, very thank you! That was nice!"

It was quite clear to me that he didn't have the words, in English, to describe how or what he was feeling. I'm not sure that he had the words in Arabic to describe what he was feeling. I don't think he even understood a word either Andrew or I said. And if it wasn't illegal, I would have explained to him what it was he felt.

He felt the Holy Ghost. He felt the spirit of the Lord.

It is such a special, good feeling. Even if you don't know what it is, you love it when you feel it. It burns within your bosom and tells you of things that are true and good.

How grateful I am for the Gift of the Holy Ghost in my life; how grateful I am for the courage to bear my testimony because that always, always makes it grow stronger; how grateful I am for my Savior and a loving Heavenly Father who takes care of me so well; I know this is the gospel of Jesus Christ.

It was fun to have so many saints around--our chapel was bursting at the seams! We had to take the chairs from all the classrooms and put them in the chapel to have room for everyone during sacrament meeting. With the YSA visitors and that group of students from USU we are just overflowing. And it's so fun to be among so many saints!

And while it's true there were a lot of strangers on the boats, there were some old friends as well. Sami (Andrew) was on study abroad with us in Jordan and he's absolutely hilarious. Jessica also lived in Jordan when we did, although she's in a military family and wasn't on study abroad. I almost freaked out that she was there as a YSA--she was only 16 when we were in Jordan and I taught YW occassionally. Yup, I just about died when I saw her. I'm getting old.

I love this picture. Front to back: Caitlin, Sami (Andrew), Sarah, and Lindsey

Jessica

Some girls from the Amman Branch

Diana (#1) and Shadda (#3, fixing her hair) are staying at our house. So is Courtenay, pictured below (in the pink sweater). And Kristin (but I didn't get a picture of her on the felucca).

I thought this picture was funny because of that weird shadow across Pita's face. It's like a sensored photo.

Speaking of sensorship...I have this odd fear of being thrown into prison for having had a devotional in the presense of Muslims...even if they didn't understand English and we weren't even talking to them. So if I do end up arrested, please rescue me...fast!

Flashback Friday: The last time I peed my pants was...

I was 9 the last time I peed my pants. I don't think we need mention all the times I almost peed my pants when I was pregnant with Rachel. Or how many times I almost peed my pants from laughing too hard at all those sleepovers in Russia. I don't know why I'm thinking about peeing my pants.

Actually I do know why. It's because of Rachel, who actually did pretty well today. Except for like a half hour before bedtime.

"Wow, Rachel!" I told her, "You did such a good job today! You stayed dry all during church! You stayed dry while Jessica and Becca babysat you! You stayed dry all day! What a good girl!"

Five minutes later she peed her pants. But not all the way. Just some.

She told me, while pee was gushing down her legs, that she had to go to the bathroom. I was like, "You don't say!"

So we went and sat on the potty and she finished up there, which was fine. Accidents happen.

Then I got her ready for bed and soon after noticed this stench following her little person around everywhere. So I'm also following her around, sniffing her bum and thinking, "There's no way! She's potty trained!"

But, yes, there was a way. She had pooped her pants. Just 10 minutes after getting off the potty and putting on her nighttime diaper. Argh! But I guess, since the last time I peed my pants was only 13 or 14 years ago, I can't really blame her. Potty training is hard!

I peed my pants on an early summer day of 1994. We were living, at the time, in Calgary, Alberta in a lovely community called Deer Run.* It was called Deer Run because every street in the neighbourhood had something to do with deer. We were fortunate enough to live on Deerpath Road, others lived on Deersaxon, Deermeade, Deer Lane, Deercroft, Deercross, Deer Ridge, Deer Side, Deer View, or Deer Park (among other "deer" names). These names were repeated several times on either lanes, ways, circles, crescents, closes or roads. If you didn't get lost at least once in my neighbourhood, you weren't in the right one. I guess they just couldn't think of enough cute street names that started with deer and had to repeat them.

We always had to be sure to give our address exactly. No abbreviations.

Deer Path Road. Not, and I repeat, not Deer Path Court. Not Deer Lane. Or Deerfield. Deer Path. Oh, and it's a road. Not a Circle. Or a Cresent. Or a Way.

We lived in these yellow duplexes. All of our neighbours were...close by in that duplexy kind of way. I thought that was kind of cool because we moved there in the dead of winter--the most snow I've ever seen in my life--and I shoveled my neighbour's walks the first week we moved in and she gave me a whole loonie for it! And her walk was as wide as the shovel and only a few meters long.

The walkways were rather rickety, really, and prove just how cheap the duplexes were. They were made up of pre-set slabs of cement put down on the ground. So they were uneven...and gappy. Still, they were short and fairly easy to shovel and I got a whole looney out of it every time so who's complaining?

I don't think my parents enjoyed the move quite so much. I don't know...something about stuffing a houseful of stuff and 6 kids into a duplex with three tiny bedrooms. With the perspective I have now, I can see how the experience probably wasn't great for them. But I got to share the master bedroom (with some siblings), so who's complaining?

At any rate, I made some great friends there so the move wasn't all bad. I still keep in touch with a few of them today, but this story doesn't involve any of them. Instead in involves some girl who lived down at the end of our street whose name I can't recall. She was about my age and we'd play...occasionally...if Nadia couldn't play. It's not that I didn't like her. I did. It's just that Nadia and I were as thick as thieves. So this other girl was more of my "backup" friend.***

But I think that's okay because I think I was only her "backup" friend, too. If not I feel badly because she must have been terribly lonely all the times I wasn't available to play with her because I was over at Nadia's house.

I must have been extremely desperate for playmates this particular summer day; not only was I playing with my "backup" friend, but I had my little bother brother along with me as well. We were just heading out to the backyard again after coming in to have a drink of water. My friend started to close the sliding door...and then everything went into slow motion.

The door came off its track and started tilting towards us. We all looked at it in horror as it fell, coming closer and closer and closer.

Somehow we managed to run down the steps and made it to the safety of the lawn before it crashed down, right where we had been standing mere seconds before.

That, in and of itself, was terrifying. But then? Then her dad came storming outside and started yelling like a maniac. I was always a little afraid of her dad because he smoked and drank straight out of the milk jug, both things my dad didn't do--so it made her dad seem a little rough around the edges.

But the minute he started yelling I peed my pants. I have never, ever been yelled at like that ever before. He was calling names and swearing and cursing our future children for 10 generations. If I was terrified before, I was absolutely shell-shocked by this point.

I stood there, crying along with my friend, my eyes wide with fright, peeing my pants. And then I did the only thing I could think of to do. I grabbed my little kindergarten-aged brother's hand and hightailed it out of there, completely abandoning my friend.

I'm sure I was yanking Patrick's arm out of his socket trying to help him to keep up with me, while we were careening down the street. We did not stop until we were safe behind our door.

Not that that would have stopped my friend's dad from getting us if he had really wanted to. Because we had the same flimsy sliding door in the back. We're just lucky we didn't trip on our uneven sidewalk in all our rush!

My friend's dad later apologized for his display of passion, and although I did consent to play with his daughter a few times more before we moved to High River I never set foot in their house again.

But I learned a few things from this situation. Besides the fact that I never, ever want to yell at my children like that, I learned that I pee my pants when I'm really, really scared. Who knew?

When's the last time you peed your pants?

*In case you were wondering if we ever had deer in our yard, we did. A lot. And a lot of evidence** of deer as well. More evidence than deer, actually.

**Evidence = Deer droppings

***Not that I was a snob, per se. I don't purposefully have "backup" friends. It was just that I didn't feel very comfortable with her...family. I think this posts illustrates the reason I didn't really like playing with her. She? Was fine. Her dad? Not so much.

Today was awful

I'm not going to lie. Today was awful. There were some good parts--like making the ornaments. But mostly Rachel was one whiny child that I didn't want anything to do with. She whined through lunch, she whined through stories, she whined through playing, and dancing, and singing and everything. Nothing was fun today. I guess she used up all her fun on the decorations because after that it was meltdown central at our house. I was ready to lock her up in a tower forever, take away her first born child, and put her to sleep for 100 years. Fairy tales are suddenly starting to make a whole lot of sense.

And that's why I have pictures like this on hand....


Yes, that's Rachel with a pair of underwear in her mouth. I just took her hair out of pigtails and so it's all skiwampus, which is awesome. And really, who could stay mad at a face like that? Not me.

Tomorrow will be better. Andrew will be home, so of course it will be better. We have company coming so I hope it will be better. And I have to make cookies, so that will help; cookies make everything better.

Salt Dough Decorations

Looking at our empty Christmas tree was getting a little depressing so Rachel and I mixed up some salt dough and spent the afternoon making decorations. I only made a half recipe and it was more than enough dough for our attention spans! We even mixed in a little food coloring--Rachel got really excited for that part. She always wanted the new color of dough to play with.

Mostly she just tore the dough into small pieces and threw it all over the floor, which made a huge mess, but she also enjoyed pushing the cookie cutters into the dough after I flattened it for her. For a while I think she thought we were making cookies, but then she tried the dough and decided it didn't taste too good. That didn't stop her from sampling every now and again. I thought her first taste would have scared her away, but I guess she just kept forgetting how gross salt dough is.


When we had finished with our decorations we put them in the oven to dry them out, then we tied string on them and hung them on our tree. It looks a whole lot more festive, especially since we now have a star on top. What good is a Christmas tree without a star on top?


We also made a little nativity set for Rachel to play with. I'm not sure how long it will last in her hands, but she's had fun with it so far. She calls Joseph "Dada," and Mary "Mama," and even said "Sheshush," which I can only guess means "Baby Jesus." They're a little crude, but I'm quite positive they're only going to last through one Christmas, anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter what they look like.

Big Sister for a Day

Rachel and I spent the day babysitting Finn. He's about 6 months younger than Rachel and they have a lot of fun together. Melissa wanted to attend a lecture Patrick was giving, but didn't want to take Finn along for the 6 hour excursion. I can't say that I blame her because I wouldn't want to take a baby to school, either.

We had a lot of fun. It was hard on Rachel to be the "older" child--she rebelled by peeing on the floor (more than once)--but she did a great job overall.

For some reason I brought a book along. You know, in case they both decided to be angels and nap at the same time or play so nicely together that they didn't need me to separate them every few minutes, or something like that. I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't read a word.

Finn and Rachel are about the same size and it's hard for Rachel to understand how it is that Finn is so much younger than she is. She likes to try to "ride" him when he's crawling; she just walks up and hops on him like he's her own personal rocking horse. He ends up squished to the floor, squirming underneath her weight while she sits there wondering why her ride ended.

"Rachel," I say, "Get off him! He's only a baby."

Before she gets off she looks up at me like, "But, mom!"

And then Finn will use her to pull himself back up and they'll both end up toppling over because, you know, they're about the same size. I know Finn's only a baby but I still try to be fair so I say,

"Finn, don't use Rachel to pull up on."

But I think she can tell I'm not actually reprimanding him and she gives me a face that says so.

And then he gouges her face and she gouges him back. And I say, "Rachel, you know better than that! Play nice! Finn, we don't pinch faces." Then Rachel gives me a look that says, "He started it! Why are you getting more upset at me?"

And then I feel guilty and start a monologue like this, "The answer is, Rachel, I don't know. Because you're 6 months older and therefore shouldn't pinch faces. But you're still a baby, too. I don't know where to draw the line. Just don't pinch faces and no one needs to get in trouble. How about that?"

And that's how my day went. It was interspersed with sweet moments where we all played together--we did a lot of running up and down the hall. Finn and Rachel both thought it was a hilarious game and we played it for a long time. I hope the downstairs neighbours don't send hate mail to the Masons.

Rachel and Finn also had a whole lot of fun with the walker. They were both pushing it at the same time and, although I reminded Rachel that Finn is slower than she is, Rachel ended up dragging Finn along. He wouldn't let go, though, and just let her pull him all around the house on his knees.

We played the piano. I tried playing some Christmas carols because I haven't played the piano in forever...but I ended up with Rachel on my lap taking over Middle C while Finn monopolized the lower half of the piano and I was stuck with about an octave up at the top. Our piano playing didn't last long.

When we were done with that Finn and Rachel were both acting a little sleepy. And I hadn't fed either of them yet, so I got Finn's bottle warmed up and started feeding him. Unfortunately there's little else better at making your own baby jealous than to hold a different baby. Especially when you're rocking them and feeding them at the same time.

Rachel went ballistic.

I paused Finn's feeding, which he was not happy about, and got Rachel a cup of water, which she was not happy about. Then we all climbed back onto the rocking chair and I held both babies in the crook of my arm, holding their bottles/cups haphazardly in their mouths. For a while I thought they were both going to fall asleep.

But they didn't. After they were finished drinking they got down and played for a while more. When I started seeing yawns and the fights were getting closer and closer together I decided it had to be nap time for one of them.

Neither Rachel or Finn, however, are very good nappers.

So I took my chances. I put Rachel in the playpen and told her it was nap time, and then I started rocking Finn to sleep, with his lovie and soother. Rachel screamed for a while, but then settled down to play with the toys in the playpen. Finn, however, soon drifted off, and I was left with the dilemma of what, exactly, to do with him since his playpen was occupied.

I ended up just putting him on the floor while I got Rachel out of his playpen--she wasn't going to fall asleep. We decided just to leave him there because he looked pretty comfortable. So Rachel and I had quiet time and Finn napped.

And the day went on from there.

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but I certainly am glad that I don't have two kids yet.

Rachel and I stayed for dinner, so it was past 6:30 when I left to walk home. By the time we got home Rachel had fallen asleep. She didn't wake up when I carried her up the stairs. She didn't wake up when I put her on the floor to change her into a diaper/jammies. She didn't wake up when I put her to bed. Being a big sister really wore her out!

The Schillings came over to babysit her...and she slept the whole time they were here. She's still asleep. I figure 7:00 is a fine time for her to go to bed, especially if she isn't going to nap and be super-duper grumpy. It's only an hour earlier than her usual bedtime. I just hope she sleeps through the night.

This year's advent calendar

My original plan was to just recycle last year's advent calendar but when I looked at it there were several things that we just couldn't do in Egypt. Things like visiting Temple Square or going Christmas Light Looking. So I made up some new ones, only I forgot to include any "grown-up" Christmas stories. Rachel doesn't really have the attention span for that, though, so I suppose we can read those as we see fit and add more grown-up things as our family grows.

Here's what we'll be doing this year:

• Watch "Mr. Krueger's Christmas"
• Watch "Nora's Christmas Gift"
• Watch "The Story of the Other Wise Man"
• Watch "The Nativity"
• Watch "Joy to the World"
• Reach the Christmas story and act it out
• Watch the 1st Presidency Christmas Devotional (Dec. 7)
  
• Choose a favorite Christmas song to sing
• Take a donkey ride on Daddy's back
• Play a game together
• Sing your favorite Christmas hymn
• Watch Mommy and Daddy dance to "their" song
• Turn on Christmas music and dance around together
• Go caroling to a friend or neighbour
• Go to the branch Christmas party (Dec. 13)
• Share your testimony about the Savior
• Tell why you love someone
• Send out Christmas letters (Dec. 5)
• Call Grandparents to wish them a Merry Christmas (Dec. 24/25)
• Share a favorite Christmas memory
• Draw a Christmas picture
• Make snowflakes
• Bake Christmas cookies
• Sing Christmas songs around the Christmas tree

The ones with set dates will be reserved; no surprise fun on those days. The others I cut into strips and put them into an empty kleenex box. We'll take turns drawing them out and hopefully it will help us get into the Christmas spirit. Another benefit of putting them in the box is that if we draw out a time-consuming one and Andrew still has too much homework we can put it back in and fish around for a quick one and leave the time-consuming ones until after finals.