Life has settled into a very comfortable routine, finally. I'm working regular hours, the kids are used to the fact that Brad takes care of them most of the time, and Brad is now accustomed to managing the household and kids. I've finally stopped needing my GPS to get to work and back (give me a break, I've been driving in the dark, rain and fog for the past few weeks!) and I understand the American accent a little better now.
Working in an American pharmacy is amazing. The system we work with at Rite Aid is fantastic - it makes the work day so simple and hassle-free; it's practically paperless. Prescriptions come from the doctor's rooms electronically, we fill them and bill the insurance electronically, and the patient gets notified to pick up the medication electronically. Alternatively, the patient can send us an electronic request for medication, we send an electronic request to the doctor, the doctor replies electronically, and the patient is electronically notified to pick up their medication - all without a single phone call or fax message being sent.
Most of the people I work with are great - upbeat and fun, really enjoyable. My manager, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck. He constantly tries to make me feel stupid, and reprimands me for not doing things properly when I haven't been shown the right way to do them. He gave me a written warning for a mistake I made in my second week on the job - 2 more written warnings mean I get fired. He never misses an opportunity to tell me how much more money than me he makes (despite the fact that I'll be earning the same in about 10 months), how much better educated he is than I am (despite the fact that I passed an equivalence exam that satisfied the Board of Pharmacy that I am equivalently qualified), or to pass on "helpful tips" on how to be a good pharmacist (despite the fact that I've been a pharmacist for 9 years, he for 3). In my head, I know that I shouldn't let him get me down, but he wears me down with constant reprimands multiple times a day, to the point that I come home feeling inadequate and incompetent. It doesn't matter how perfectly I do anything, he finds something wrong with everything I do, at least a dozen times a day. I'm not in a position to argue, having only been on the job for 4 weeks, so I just nod and try to do it better next time...
On the bright side, I will soon be splitting my week between 2 pharmacies, and the way my schedule works out, I'll only have to work with this guy one day every 2 weeks. I can't wait.
Socially, I haven't made many friends yet. Working full time and studying the rest of the time doesn't leave much time for finding friends. Brad has made friends at CrossFit, where he works out 2-3 times a week with the Benades. They are a bunch of insanely fit, good-looking people who are passionate about their health and about CrossFit. They routinely do things like lift 1 million times their body weight, do 1000 push-ups on their pinky fingers, and run 50 miles in a single workout, (and that's just the ladies!) on a strict diet of broccoli, lean chicken and almond milk. I've met some of them, and they are all wonderful people, but I have to fight the urge to shrink into the shadows and try to hide my unsculpted form. I can't tell those people the ugly truth about myself - that I can barely do 10 push-ups, and that I partake of bread and ice cream and cheesecake. When they start talking about burpees and thrusters and pull-ups, I hang out with the kids and we talk about Humpty Dumpty and the three blind mice.
Brad and I wake up at 5am every morning so I can work out (he's my personal trainer because I have no willpower). Some mornings I get a workout in, but often the kids wake up and we lose the opportunity. It's very frustrating, especially when I see how defined and strong he is, and I realise I'll never get there at this rate. Another thing to feel inadequate about... I guess I'll just go get myself a big bowl of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream then.
So that's me, folks - a shadow of my former self. An incompetent pharmacist, a fat, slovenly wife and social misfit. Things can only get better from here. I'll keep you updated on my progress - hold thumbs for me.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
American English - an Oxymoron
It's a wonder that we have survived nearly six weeks in this place without getting punched or verbally abused, contracting food poisoning, or having a serious car accident. With the discrepancies in meanings between South African English and American English, we are practically learning a foreign language.
I mean, where am I supposed to drive when the tarred road surface is called the pavement, and the pavement is called the sidewalk? How do I operate a car when a bonnet is a hood and a boot is a trunk, and neither one is opened, but both are popped? Do I toot my horn or hoot at the truck (which is in fact, a bakkie - a truck is either an 18-wheeler or a big rig or a hauler or any number of other things)?
Where do I put my laundry when a washing machine is a washer and a washer is a... O-ring? I don't even know what a washer is called here. A geyser is called a water heater, and a hot spring is a geyser. A cistern, believe it or not, is actually a tanker truck and has nothing to do with the house plumbing. If I ask a shop assistant for the bathroom, they wonder if I need an emergency shower. Toilet sounds too crude, I have to remember to ask for the restroom.
What do I wear when a vest is a waistcoat and an undershirt is a vest? Do I wear a vest over my dress shirt and an undershirt under my shirt dress?
Where do I sleep when a single bed is a twin bed, and a three-quarter is a full size? Luckily, a queen is a queen and a king is a king, but how big is a California king? A night frill is a bed skirt, but could someone please explain what a sham is? In SA, you certainly would not buy anything advertised to include a sham.
What do I eat when Cinnabon is a breakfast treat, and maize porridge (grits) is eaten savoury with eggs and bacon? When sausage is not the same as sausages, and hamburger is not the same as hamburgers? You can eat sausage on biscuits (English muffins) and hamburger with macaroni. A vienna is a frank, and boerewors doesn't exist. If you ask for mince meat you get fruit mince, if you want minced meat you ask for ground meat. A rib roast is not a rib eye roast, is not a rib eye steak, is not an eye round steak. And what the hell is tri-tip? Could I ask the butcher to show me his weiners, or would that be inappropriate?
Tomato sauce is ketchup, tomato puree is tomato sauce, fresh tomato sauce is pasta sauce (I think). Cherry tomatoes are grape tomatoes... oy vey.
I told Nikhil we were going to Food Source - he wanted to know if he could have some food sauce too? Brad in particular is having trouble pronouncing "sauce" and "source" in American.
And where do I buy all these things when a shop is a workshop and a store is a shop? What would people in South Africa think if I told them I work in a drug store? Drugs are medicines and narcotics are drugs - our narcotics are called, what? Sedative-hypnotics? Really looking forward to the first week at work...
I arranged to meet a guy in 20 minutes, and told him I would see him "just now". He seemed alarmed and told me he would rather see me later.
At least Nikhil seems to be adapting. After Thanksgiving lunch, he discovered there's a whole BUNCH of people who speak just like Malissa, and now he's started pronouncing all his R's at the end of words, like "wateR", "betteR", "grateR". He even told me he'd had a good "ideaR". I don't think he believed me when I told him IDEA doesn't end in an R. He'll have to hear it from Malissa, I suppose...
I mean, where am I supposed to drive when the tarred road surface is called the pavement, and the pavement is called the sidewalk? How do I operate a car when a bonnet is a hood and a boot is a trunk, and neither one is opened, but both are popped? Do I toot my horn or hoot at the truck (which is in fact, a bakkie - a truck is either an 18-wheeler or a big rig or a hauler or any number of other things)?
Where do I put my laundry when a washing machine is a washer and a washer is a... O-ring? I don't even know what a washer is called here. A geyser is called a water heater, and a hot spring is a geyser. A cistern, believe it or not, is actually a tanker truck and has nothing to do with the house plumbing. If I ask a shop assistant for the bathroom, they wonder if I need an emergency shower. Toilet sounds too crude, I have to remember to ask for the restroom.
What do I wear when a vest is a waistcoat and an undershirt is a vest? Do I wear a vest over my dress shirt and an undershirt under my shirt dress?
Where do I sleep when a single bed is a twin bed, and a three-quarter is a full size? Luckily, a queen is a queen and a king is a king, but how big is a California king? A night frill is a bed skirt, but could someone please explain what a sham is? In SA, you certainly would not buy anything advertised to include a sham.
What do I eat when Cinnabon is a breakfast treat, and maize porridge (grits) is eaten savoury with eggs and bacon? When sausage is not the same as sausages, and hamburger is not the same as hamburgers? You can eat sausage on biscuits (English muffins) and hamburger with macaroni. A vienna is a frank, and boerewors doesn't exist. If you ask for mince meat you get fruit mince, if you want minced meat you ask for ground meat. A rib roast is not a rib eye roast, is not a rib eye steak, is not an eye round steak. And what the hell is tri-tip? Could I ask the butcher to show me his weiners, or would that be inappropriate?
Tomato sauce is ketchup, tomato puree is tomato sauce, fresh tomato sauce is pasta sauce (I think). Cherry tomatoes are grape tomatoes... oy vey.
I told Nikhil we were going to Food Source - he wanted to know if he could have some food sauce too? Brad in particular is having trouble pronouncing "sauce" and "source" in American.
And where do I buy all these things when a shop is a workshop and a store is a shop? What would people in South Africa think if I told them I work in a drug store? Drugs are medicines and narcotics are drugs - our narcotics are called, what? Sedative-hypnotics? Really looking forward to the first week at work...
I arranged to meet a guy in 20 minutes, and told him I would see him "just now". He seemed alarmed and told me he would rather see me later.
At least Nikhil seems to be adapting. After Thanksgiving lunch, he discovered there's a whole BUNCH of people who speak just like Malissa, and now he's started pronouncing all his R's at the end of words, like "wateR", "betteR", "grateR". He even told me he'd had a good "ideaR". I don't think he believed me when I told him IDEA doesn't end in an R. He'll have to hear it from Malissa, I suppose...
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Out of the mouths of babes... A kiddie update
Nikhil is coming along really well with his "schoolwork" (pre-Kindergarten activity books). Today we were learning about opposites, and one of the examples was a pretty princess and an ugly witch. Out of the blue, Nikhil says "Mommy, if you eat all your food, you'll grow up into a pretty lady one day." Amused, I asked him what I am now, ugly or pretty? "Not ugly, and not pretty, just nice." Not so amused anymore.
I asked him if Ariane is pretty, and he confidently said yes. So I asked who else is pretty? "Malissa is pretty! One day, when you're pretty like Malissa, I'll say, Oh I love you Mommy!"
The funniest part was watching Brad trying to salvage my feelings.
Ariane is saying a few more words, like Duck (she really does love birds), and G'bye. She's started biting Nikhil, though. If he has something she wants, she bites him. If he takes something she has, she bites him. If I take something away from her, she bites Nikhil!
In happier news, Nikhil's verbal skills are progressing quite gratifyingly. Today he told me, "When Ariane grows up into a lady she won't bite me anymore. But at the moment, she's still a baby, and she doesn't know any better." I was quite impressed - I certainly didn't tell him that. He's still trying to figure out exactly what a husband is, though. Today he told me he was going to the park with his husband - being Brad.
We took the kids to Toys R Us because Nikhil wouldn't stop asking for a lawnmower to "lawn the mow". We found a cute one that blows bubbles, but he only wanted the one with a choke to start the motor. He threw one of those "Whose kid is that?" tantrums because we wouldn't buy him a huge motorised tractor, and then he saw the golf clubs... In the end, we gave him a choice between the golf clubs, the lawnmower and a tricycle (because Ariane was getting a ride-on), and he chose the golf clubs. He LOVES golf - on the way home he told us all about how his grandfather taught him how to play golf but he's in South Africa now...
Anyway, it didn't stop him crying for the lawnmower once we got home. Or fighting with Ariane over the ride-on. That's a lesson in making choices and living with the consequences.
We're still waiting patiently for the day the kids can put themselves to bed and sleep through the night. At 14 months and nearly 3 years old, I fear we may have missed our window of opportunity...
I asked him if Ariane is pretty, and he confidently said yes. So I asked who else is pretty? "Malissa is pretty! One day, when you're pretty like Malissa, I'll say, Oh I love you Mommy!"
The funniest part was watching Brad trying to salvage my feelings.
Ariane is saying a few more words, like Duck (she really does love birds), and G'bye. She's started biting Nikhil, though. If he has something she wants, she bites him. If he takes something she has, she bites him. If I take something away from her, she bites Nikhil!
In happier news, Nikhil's verbal skills are progressing quite gratifyingly. Today he told me, "When Ariane grows up into a lady she won't bite me anymore. But at the moment, she's still a baby, and she doesn't know any better." I was quite impressed - I certainly didn't tell him that. He's still trying to figure out exactly what a husband is, though. Today he told me he was going to the park with his husband - being Brad.
We took the kids to Toys R Us because Nikhil wouldn't stop asking for a lawnmower to "lawn the mow". We found a cute one that blows bubbles, but he only wanted the one with a choke to start the motor. He threw one of those "Whose kid is that?" tantrums because we wouldn't buy him a huge motorised tractor, and then he saw the golf clubs... In the end, we gave him a choice between the golf clubs, the lawnmower and a tricycle (because Ariane was getting a ride-on), and he chose the golf clubs. He LOVES golf - on the way home he told us all about how his grandfather taught him how to play golf but he's in South Africa now...
Anyway, it didn't stop him crying for the lawnmower once we got home. Or fighting with Ariane over the ride-on. That's a lesson in making choices and living with the consequences.
We're still waiting patiently for the day the kids can put themselves to bed and sleep through the night. At 14 months and nearly 3 years old, I fear we may have missed our window of opportunity...
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving
We've been adopted by the Johnsons, Malissa's family. We spent Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa Johnson's house today.
We were invited to attend The Stuffing of the Turkey early in the morning. It was a 19lb turkey, almost the size of Ariane.
The Stuffing actually started about 3 days previously, when the turkey was taken out to defrost. This morning, the Johnsons prepared great-grandma Johnson's original recipe turkey stuffing, with much squelching and squeezing. (I got the recipe! This confirms that I'm family!)
Once the stuffing was declared perfect, it was stuffed into the turkey with a respectable amount of huffing and puffing.
Finally it was all sewn together with the requisite pulling and tugging, and then basted with melted butter.
(That's Malissa's mom - now you know where Malissa got her good looks!)
Finally the turkey was wrapped cosily in foil and tucked into the oven for five hours. Coincidentally, that's about as long as Ariane sleeps before she wakes for the first time at night. Hmm...
Later in the afternoon, we returned to the Johnson's to the delicious aroma of a perfectly roasted turkey. We indulged in a feast that was satisfyingly traditional, yet not sickeningly rich. Succulent turkey (I expected dry!), flavourful stuffing, the most buttery orange sweet potatoes (no marshmallow topping, thank goodness!), tart cranberry sauce, fluffy mashed potatoes... Crisp salad of baby spinach, nuts and cranberries... And of course, pumpkin pie to end it all off. Just perfect.
Oh, yes, and Jell-o and cream with the main course... Still trying to figure that one out.
I'm now infatuated with orange sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie - they're plaguing my brain like a teenage crush. I can't wait to see them again (apologies to Miley Cyrus).
The Johnsons have the perfect grandparents' house - it's full of interesting pictures and ornaments to intrigue little minds (and fingers!) as well as an attic full of toys that make their way into the living room. Best of all, it's owned by smiling indulgent parents of four, who say "Oh, let him have another helping of dessert!" and bounce children around, making silly noises. Grandparents are the same all over the world.
I explained the concept of gratitude to Nikhil, and asked him what he was thankful for. His answer: "Umm, smoke detectors and air conditioners... and stuff." Well, I suppose that's a fair answer. With some encouragement, he conceded that he is also grateful for gumball machines and Halloween and Mom, but what about Dad? "Hmm... ye-es, but sometimes he makes me cross!" Mommy's boy.
And what about my Thanksgiving list? I'm grateful that we are finally here, after years of planning and praying. I'm grateful for sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. I'm grateful for friends who keep you afloat when you think you might drown. I'm grateful for adoptive families. And I'm grateful that I have a real family to miss as much as I do.
We were invited to attend The Stuffing of the Turkey early in the morning. It was a 19lb turkey, almost the size of Ariane.
The Stuffing actually started about 3 days previously, when the turkey was taken out to defrost. This morning, the Johnsons prepared great-grandma Johnson's original recipe turkey stuffing, with much squelching and squeezing. (I got the recipe! This confirms that I'm family!)
Once the stuffing was declared perfect, it was stuffed into the turkey with a respectable amount of huffing and puffing.
Finally it was all sewn together with the requisite pulling and tugging, and then basted with melted butter.
(That's Malissa's mom - now you know where Malissa got her good looks!)
Finally the turkey was wrapped cosily in foil and tucked into the oven for five hours. Coincidentally, that's about as long as Ariane sleeps before she wakes for the first time at night. Hmm...
Later in the afternoon, we returned to the Johnson's to the delicious aroma of a perfectly roasted turkey. We indulged in a feast that was satisfyingly traditional, yet not sickeningly rich. Succulent turkey (I expected dry!), flavourful stuffing, the most buttery orange sweet potatoes (no marshmallow topping, thank goodness!), tart cranberry sauce, fluffy mashed potatoes... Crisp salad of baby spinach, nuts and cranberries... And of course, pumpkin pie to end it all off. Just perfect.
Oh, yes, and Jell-o and cream with the main course... Still trying to figure that one out.
I'm now infatuated with orange sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie - they're plaguing my brain like a teenage crush. I can't wait to see them again (apologies to Miley Cyrus).
The Johnsons have the perfect grandparents' house - it's full of interesting pictures and ornaments to intrigue little minds (and fingers!) as well as an attic full of toys that make their way into the living room. Best of all, it's owned by smiling indulgent parents of four, who say "Oh, let him have another helping of dessert!" and bounce children around, making silly noises. Grandparents are the same all over the world.
I explained the concept of gratitude to Nikhil, and asked him what he was thankful for. His answer: "Umm, smoke detectors and air conditioners... and stuff." Well, I suppose that's a fair answer. With some encouragement, he conceded that he is also grateful for gumball machines and Halloween and Mom, but what about Dad? "Hmm... ye-es, but sometimes he makes me cross!" Mommy's boy.
And what about my Thanksgiving list? I'm grateful that we are finally here, after years of planning and praying. I'm grateful for sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. I'm grateful for friends who keep you afloat when you think you might drown. I'm grateful for adoptive families. And I'm grateful that I have a real family to miss as much as I do.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The modern family unit
I just realised what a strange sight we must make when we go out as a family. Yesterday at the mall, Brad was walking ahead pushing both kids in the double stroller, as I trailed behind, gulping in all the new sights, sounds and smells on offer. (How do men do that - walk into a new mall in a new city, new COUNTRY, and walk straight to a pre-determined spot, without slowing down to take in all the details and nuances of the fashion, decor, quality of the new place?)
So there Brad was, wearing his Mr. Mom t-shirt to boot, and it dawned on me that we have a pretty strange family at the moment. Our roles are fluid and undefined - we're both caregivers, both home makers, both decision makers. I'm the breadwinner, he's the one who does the grocery shopping, and yet the power hasn't shifted. That's probably because it was pretty balanced in the first place. We're both focused on achieving the life we've envisioned, and it doesn't matter who baths the kids and who brings in the paycheck.
Still, being the mom and the working parent has its unique challenges. We're taking turns putting Nikhil to bed at night, because I do need to study (and putting Nikhil to bed takes an hour). He's having trouble accepting it - he says he wants me to put him to bed every night, and it tears my heart out. I feel so guilty for being firm with him, even though I know my alternate contribution to the family is essential.
I still worry that the kids won't be ok if I'm not around - that Brad will forget to feed and water them, or change Ariane's nappy, or whatever, despite all previous evidence that he is actually the more attentive caregiver. Brad suggested I spend the day at the library tomorrow, studying, and my first reaction was, "But will you be ok with the kids?" Um, that's his full-time job from now on...
Travelling here was also more challenging, compared to having the dad as the working parent. We're not the first family to have done it, but things are so much simpler for working dads. They travel alone first, sleep on the plane, and sort out the admin unencumbered when they arrive. They sleep off the jet lag undisturbed, albeit in a crappy hotel. Then they drive around (on the other side of the road) with no-one to distract them, and go to Homeland Security and the bank and the estate agent and the new employer and the electricity provider... Then, when all that's sorted out, they send for the wife and kids, and go off to work.
Being the mom, I couldn't leave the kids in South Africa for four weeks. So we traveled with them, stayed awake when they were awake, tried to anticipate their disturbed appetites. We crammed them into the crappy hotel with us, drove around on the other side of the road with them shouting and complaining in the back, and dragged them along to all sorts of interminably boring official offices. And now they have to get used to Mom not putting them to bed, as I have been all their lives.
A year ago, I was fretting to my dad about the possibility of us leaving when Ariane was only 3 months old. "It won't be so bad," he said dismissively. "My uncle took his wife and 2-week old baby to live in Australia 35 years ago, and he worked and didn't have a problem!" Well, Dad, did it ever occur to you that your uncle didn't carry the baby for nine months, give birth to it, breastfeed it, and carry it for a further 9 months to a year?
I really can't complain - Brad is a super mom-dad, and has no ego issues with being the primary parent. I couldn't ask for more, really. A woman at the mall looked at his Mr. Mom t-shirt and asked me if he lived up to the name. The answer was a sincere "Oh yes!".
I just have to constantly remind myself that our family is strange to some, and not everyone understands our motives. So many people find it hard to believe that Brad is not looking for a job; even more immediately assume he must therefore be a bum. Oh, well, we love our crazy, off-centre family life.
I'm off to bed - gonna give that bum a big thank-you kiss!
So there Brad was, wearing his Mr. Mom t-shirt to boot, and it dawned on me that we have a pretty strange family at the moment. Our roles are fluid and undefined - we're both caregivers, both home makers, both decision makers. I'm the breadwinner, he's the one who does the grocery shopping, and yet the power hasn't shifted. That's probably because it was pretty balanced in the first place. We're both focused on achieving the life we've envisioned, and it doesn't matter who baths the kids and who brings in the paycheck.
Still, being the mom and the working parent has its unique challenges. We're taking turns putting Nikhil to bed at night, because I do need to study (and putting Nikhil to bed takes an hour). He's having trouble accepting it - he says he wants me to put him to bed every night, and it tears my heart out. I feel so guilty for being firm with him, even though I know my alternate contribution to the family is essential.
I still worry that the kids won't be ok if I'm not around - that Brad will forget to feed and water them, or change Ariane's nappy, or whatever, despite all previous evidence that he is actually the more attentive caregiver. Brad suggested I spend the day at the library tomorrow, studying, and my first reaction was, "But will you be ok with the kids?" Um, that's his full-time job from now on...
Travelling here was also more challenging, compared to having the dad as the working parent. We're not the first family to have done it, but things are so much simpler for working dads. They travel alone first, sleep on the plane, and sort out the admin unencumbered when they arrive. They sleep off the jet lag undisturbed, albeit in a crappy hotel. Then they drive around (on the other side of the road) with no-one to distract them, and go to Homeland Security and the bank and the estate agent and the new employer and the electricity provider... Then, when all that's sorted out, they send for the wife and kids, and go off to work.
Being the mom, I couldn't leave the kids in South Africa for four weeks. So we traveled with them, stayed awake when they were awake, tried to anticipate their disturbed appetites. We crammed them into the crappy hotel with us, drove around on the other side of the road with them shouting and complaining in the back, and dragged them along to all sorts of interminably boring official offices. And now they have to get used to Mom not putting them to bed, as I have been all their lives.
A year ago, I was fretting to my dad about the possibility of us leaving when Ariane was only 3 months old. "It won't be so bad," he said dismissively. "My uncle took his wife and 2-week old baby to live in Australia 35 years ago, and he worked and didn't have a problem!" Well, Dad, did it ever occur to you that your uncle didn't carry the baby for nine months, give birth to it, breastfeed it, and carry it for a further 9 months to a year?
I really can't complain - Brad is a super mom-dad, and has no ego issues with being the primary parent. I couldn't ask for more, really. A woman at the mall looked at his Mr. Mom t-shirt and asked me if he lived up to the name. The answer was a sincere "Oh yes!".
I just have to constantly remind myself that our family is strange to some, and not everyone understands our motives. So many people find it hard to believe that Brad is not looking for a job; even more immediately assume he must therefore be a bum. Oh, well, we love our crazy, off-centre family life.
I'm off to bed - gonna give that bum a big thank-you kiss!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Nikhil and the Gumball Machine
It started with 2 pieces of bubblegum in Nikhil's Halloween bucket. He was forbidden from eating them, and I chewed one to show him bubbles. He was so fascinated, he dropped his panda obsession and immediately replaced it with a gum obsession.
As soon as I was done with the gum, I showed him how to spit it out and throw it away, but he wanted me to chew the next one. I promised him I would chew it the next day.
The next morning, he woke up and greeted me with "Mom, do you want your bubblegum now?" He offered it to me about 12 times in the time it took to get dressed and ready for the day.
He now compulsively visits the "G" page on Starfall (his learn-to-read website) because one of the G words is gumball. You choose a coin, and the corresponding number of gumballs roll out of the gumball machine, and a little girl chews and blows a big bubble. After seeing me do it, it finally makes sense to him.
He also discovered gumball machines in Elk Grove, and we are in big trouble if we pass one and don't have a quarter for him to get a gumball! Well, today we went to a mall (first time in America!) and discovered Gumball Heaven:
He's probably dreaming about gumballs right now...
In other news, I am not working yet. I still have to go through loads of background checks etc. I'm just enjoying the time off, although there's not much to do these days. I met my district manager today, and he was really nice - put my mind at ease about a lot of things I was worrying about. I'm really looking forward to starting work - not least because it'll put an end to my constant boredom-eating.
The kids are settling down, now that we are able to give them a better routine. Tonight Nikhil fell asleep before 9:30pm for the first time since we moved in! He gets to do half an hour of "schoolwork" before the clock (not mommy, because you can't argue with the clock) says it's bedtime.
We've been driving around a fair bit in central California, and the impression we get is that every community is a carbon copy of the one before. All the same stores, all the same fast food places, all in similar-looking hubs, can be found stamped along all the similar-looking roads from Elk Grove to San Francisco. It may give a sense of familiarity to some, but it's downright confusing to me, who has no sense of direction and orientation! I keep getting lost because I'm trying to get home from the Walgreen's, but it's not the same Walgreen's I drove past yesterday!
Many of the houses seem to look similar too. We've been looking at houses for sale, and the pictures show houses finished in an identical fashion to the one we live in now! Same kitchen cabinets, same kitchen surfaces, same bathroom surfaces, same light fittings... Maybe there was one big building contractor in Elk Grove 10 years ago who ordered in bulk.
Having said that, we are now certain that Elk Grove is where we want to stay. It has a really pleasant vibe, and it has just the right balance of small town-ness and big city-ness: small town traffic, big city activities. How fortunate that we started out here in the first place.
We had a mini culture shock today. I found a local group of moms advertised on a meet-up website, who get together to explore child-friendly activities in Elk Grove. I thought it would be a good way for Brad to get the kids out and playing with other kids, so I contacted the group and asked if Brad and the kids could join. His application was rejected because the ladies are not comfortable allowing men they don't know to join. So they allow strange women to join and take their kids out, but not dads. In South Africa that's called gender discrimination. Nevermind, I'm not comfortable allowing my children around man-bashers anyway... I just hope all the moms are not so close-minded, otherwise we're going to have some homeschooling challenges.
Cheers for now, folks. May you have a Gumball Heaven day!
As soon as I was done with the gum, I showed him how to spit it out and throw it away, but he wanted me to chew the next one. I promised him I would chew it the next day.
The next morning, he woke up and greeted me with "Mom, do you want your bubblegum now?" He offered it to me about 12 times in the time it took to get dressed and ready for the day.
He now compulsively visits the "G" page on Starfall (his learn-to-read website) because one of the G words is gumball. You choose a coin, and the corresponding number of gumballs roll out of the gumball machine, and a little girl chews and blows a big bubble. After seeing me do it, it finally makes sense to him.
He also discovered gumball machines in Elk Grove, and we are in big trouble if we pass one and don't have a quarter for him to get a gumball! Well, today we went to a mall (first time in America!) and discovered Gumball Heaven:
He's probably dreaming about gumballs right now...
In other news, I am not working yet. I still have to go through loads of background checks etc. I'm just enjoying the time off, although there's not much to do these days. I met my district manager today, and he was really nice - put my mind at ease about a lot of things I was worrying about. I'm really looking forward to starting work - not least because it'll put an end to my constant boredom-eating.
The kids are settling down, now that we are able to give them a better routine. Tonight Nikhil fell asleep before 9:30pm for the first time since we moved in! He gets to do half an hour of "schoolwork" before the clock (not mommy, because you can't argue with the clock) says it's bedtime.
We've been driving around a fair bit in central California, and the impression we get is that every community is a carbon copy of the one before. All the same stores, all the same fast food places, all in similar-looking hubs, can be found stamped along all the similar-looking roads from Elk Grove to San Francisco. It may give a sense of familiarity to some, but it's downright confusing to me, who has no sense of direction and orientation! I keep getting lost because I'm trying to get home from the Walgreen's, but it's not the same Walgreen's I drove past yesterday!
Many of the houses seem to look similar too. We've been looking at houses for sale, and the pictures show houses finished in an identical fashion to the one we live in now! Same kitchen cabinets, same kitchen surfaces, same bathroom surfaces, same light fittings... Maybe there was one big building contractor in Elk Grove 10 years ago who ordered in bulk.
Having said that, we are now certain that Elk Grove is where we want to stay. It has a really pleasant vibe, and it has just the right balance of small town-ness and big city-ness: small town traffic, big city activities. How fortunate that we started out here in the first place.
We had a mini culture shock today. I found a local group of moms advertised on a meet-up website, who get together to explore child-friendly activities in Elk Grove. I thought it would be a good way for Brad to get the kids out and playing with other kids, so I contacted the group and asked if Brad and the kids could join. His application was rejected because the ladies are not comfortable allowing men they don't know to join. So they allow strange women to join and take their kids out, but not dads. In South Africa that's called gender discrimination. Nevermind, I'm not comfortable allowing my children around man-bashers anyway... I just hope all the moms are not so close-minded, otherwise we're going to have some homeschooling challenges.
Cheers for now, folks. May you have a Gumball Heaven day!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The transmutation has begun...
I'm slowly becoming more Americanised. For one thing, I have a Social Security card! (It was a bit of an anti-climax - the "card" is just a perforated piece of paper, and you're not allowed to laminate it!)
I also have a license to practice pharmacy, which is awesome - it means I can start work next week.
Our home is finally kitted out and pretty much complete. All we need now is Brad's fancy schmancy super computer. Oh, and a dining table to replace the camping table Jason and Malissa lent us.
We have checked out most of the "essentials" stores and decided where we'll be doing our shopping. We discovered SF Supermarket today - it's a Chinese supermarket that sells all the Chinese groceries as well as the regular fresh produce. I had to hold Brad's jaw up - he was thrashing about in paroxysms of delight, going "Oh, look! They have FRESH LOTUS ROOT! And so many rice varieties! And Pearl River Bridge GOLD LABEL soy sauce!" It was kind of cute watching him get so excited about food, and the fact that his kids can now grow up with a proper Asian diet.
Oh, and we cleaned our own house today! Imagine that... It only took us two hours. Is that really what we paid our domestic to do? Man, she was there for 9 hours a day, 5 days a week! Ok, I admit, she didn't have an electric dishwasher and clothes dryer. But still, 2 hours compared to 45?
We had Jason, Malissa and Christian over for dinner tonight. It was lovely and convivial, and the food was delicious (thanks Brad and SF Supermarkets!). They left at 8pm, and 20 minutes later the kitchen showed no evidence of a dinner party. Amazing.
Nikhil, Ariane and Christian are so cute together. Christian is learning to crawl, Ariane has just learnt to walk, and Nikhil... well, Nikhil is learning to read to them. Ariane and Christian talk to each other in baby language, and Nikhil reverts to baby language and crawling to fit in. Poor kid, we really need to find him some friends. When Ariane and Christian went to bed, Nikhil sat up working on the computer. We predicted that in 18 years' time, Ariane and Christian would be out clubbing and raising hell, and Nikhil would be sitting in his room hacking into the World Bank.
The kids are taking up all our time and energy right now. They demand constant attention when they're awake, they rarely nap during the day, fight bedtime at night, and even once they fall asleep, they wake up frequently for cuddling or bottles or no reason at all. It's quite exhausting - we have hardly any time to do important admin, never mind have a conversation.
Sigh. Emigrating without kids must be a completely different experience... We would have lived in a smaller, smarter apartment. We would have spent less time doing laundry and more time exploring the city. We would have spent less time packing nappy bags, snacks and extra clothes every time we left the house. We would have eaten seafood in San Francisco instead of packing a wholesome but homely lunch. We wouldn't have had to scope out every destination for toilets the second we arrived.
But in the end, we would have laughed less, loved less, and lived less. So I have no regrets - just an insatiable desire for more sleep...
I also have a license to practice pharmacy, which is awesome - it means I can start work next week.
Our home is finally kitted out and pretty much complete. All we need now is Brad's fancy schmancy super computer. Oh, and a dining table to replace the camping table Jason and Malissa lent us.
We have checked out most of the "essentials" stores and decided where we'll be doing our shopping. We discovered SF Supermarket today - it's a Chinese supermarket that sells all the Chinese groceries as well as the regular fresh produce. I had to hold Brad's jaw up - he was thrashing about in paroxysms of delight, going "Oh, look! They have FRESH LOTUS ROOT! And so many rice varieties! And Pearl River Bridge GOLD LABEL soy sauce!" It was kind of cute watching him get so excited about food, and the fact that his kids can now grow up with a proper Asian diet.
Oh, and we cleaned our own house today! Imagine that... It only took us two hours. Is that really what we paid our domestic to do? Man, she was there for 9 hours a day, 5 days a week! Ok, I admit, she didn't have an electric dishwasher and clothes dryer. But still, 2 hours compared to 45?
We had Jason, Malissa and Christian over for dinner tonight. It was lovely and convivial, and the food was delicious (thanks Brad and SF Supermarkets!). They left at 8pm, and 20 minutes later the kitchen showed no evidence of a dinner party. Amazing.
Nikhil, Ariane and Christian are so cute together. Christian is learning to crawl, Ariane has just learnt to walk, and Nikhil... well, Nikhil is learning to read to them. Ariane and Christian talk to each other in baby language, and Nikhil reverts to baby language and crawling to fit in. Poor kid, we really need to find him some friends. When Ariane and Christian went to bed, Nikhil sat up working on the computer. We predicted that in 18 years' time, Ariane and Christian would be out clubbing and raising hell, and Nikhil would be sitting in his room hacking into the World Bank.
The kids are taking up all our time and energy right now. They demand constant attention when they're awake, they rarely nap during the day, fight bedtime at night, and even once they fall asleep, they wake up frequently for cuddling or bottles or no reason at all. It's quite exhausting - we have hardly any time to do important admin, never mind have a conversation.
Sigh. Emigrating without kids must be a completely different experience... We would have lived in a smaller, smarter apartment. We would have spent less time doing laundry and more time exploring the city. We would have spent less time packing nappy bags, snacks and extra clothes every time we left the house. We would have eaten seafood in San Francisco instead of packing a wholesome but homely lunch. We wouldn't have had to scope out every destination for toilets the second we arrived.
But in the end, we would have laughed less, loved less, and lived less. So I have no regrets - just an insatiable desire for more sleep...
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