In a Jiffy!

~1~

All the contact lens wearers out there, raise your hands.  How many times have you been forced to choose between replacing an ancient pair of glasses or having your years' supply of contacts fully covered by insurance?  It's a hideous choice, and one I've faced nearly every year of my adult life.

No longer.

Check these out, yo.:

Two (count them , TWO) new pairs of glasses for less than $40 total (no insurance), made for me in under an hour.  Here's how it goes:  I walk in and hand over my current glasses. A very nice man points me towards the table of free frames.  (There are over 100 to choose from.)  I choose, and the clerk seats me at a cafe table and brings me a delicious Korean vitamin water.  I chat with my sis in law.  30 minutes later, give or take, I walk out the door with brand new glasses.  The kicker: I'm going back on Tuesday to pick up my fancy back-ordered contacts, astigmatism correction and all!

Think the U.S. could learn a thing or two about eye wear from the Koreans?  Yep, me too.

~2~

This is called suek tdeok.  "Tdeok" is a common type of rice cake here.  Not the crunchy kind most Americans are used to, though.  It has a more gummy texture.  I'm hard-pressed to find a consistency to compare it to, but perhaps raw pizza dough?

"Suek", according to my friend Ji Won's translator, is "mugwort."  I almost laughed when she said it because honestly, I thought mugwort was only found in Hogwarts Herbology classes.

I didn't mind it... it has an earthy flavor to it that was sort of addicting once you get used to it.  The kids, however, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.  Which made me feel terrible because Ji Won's mother-in-law made them from scratch, complete with going to the mountains to harvest mugwort...  I only wish I was joking.

~3~

I decided to hurry up and try to finish out our school year by the last week of May in order to not be too stressed the last couple of weeks here.  But that means that I've been a bit of a slavedriver with schoolwork.  Gianna has fared the worse, and her most difficult subject by far has been math.

Normally I love our Singapore Math, but I've been really annoyed with the way the book teaches double digit addition.  Today, after Gianna struggled to understand yet another murky lesson, I took matters into my own hands.  We skipped ahead a lesson, I spent 5 minutes showing her how to make a place value chart and stack the addends, and then compute to find the sum.

Boom.  Girl got it in a jiffy, and finished 3 pages of addition in under 10 minutes.  I'm not bragging, people.  It was hardly a stroke of genius.  Just a frustrated teacher-mom following her gut.

Why do I feel like that page makes her seem so grown up?

~4~

Yesterday we went downtown with our friends and spent some time learning about the Korean poet Lee Sung Hwa.  His traditional house is preserved amid urban development in downtown Daegu.

Here is the poem he's famous for, painted for display on an exterior wall:

~5~

Tonight we made homemade pizzas (balsamic onions and feta for the parents- what WHAT?!), ate not-so-homemade ice cream, and watched Homeward Bound as a family.

No one had any fun at all.  See?

~6~

I feel kind of bad about how Ezekiel has been portrayed lately.  I thought I should post some redeeming facets of his personality.

See how sweet he is when he's asleep?

And brother napping together?  Double the cuteness, double the fun.

~7~

I saw this months ago on Simcha's blog, then one of my absolute favorite blogger friends Rebekah posted it on her place last week.  I tear up every time I watch it.  JP II, WE LOVE YOU!

"In His luf, in His luf!"  Have an absolutely wonderful weekend, friends!

Head over to Jen for more Quick Takes.

Animals, or Lack Thereof: Theme Thursday

There are no animals in Korea.  (Uh, wait.  That seems hyperbolic, even for me.)

There are no wild animals in Korea. (Still not right.)

There are very few wild animals in Korea and next to none in Daegu.  (There, I believe that's an accurate statement.)  I could have taken picture of poodles in strollers, but er, um, no.  Oh!  Once I saw a kid bring a hedgehog to the playground!  And it was really cool until all the other excited kids scared it under the pirate ship play structure and as far as I know it was never heard from again.  Sad.

Something interesting: the cultural significance of the tiger in Korean folklore.  We have borrowed this book from the library, Korean Children's Favorite Stories, many times and love it.  Tigers feature heavily among the old tales.

In the Public Domain

Have I mentioned we went to the Philippines a few weeks back?  I did?  Are you sure?  Hmm, I hardly remember mentioning that.  Anyway, when we went to the Philippines, we landed at a semi-rural airport, hopped into a van taxi, and drove along rural dirt roads until we came to our seaside resort.  In that 45 minute trip, we saw more animals that we have seen in the entirety of our life here in Korea.
Water buffalo topped the list, but also turkeys, chickens (roaming free), sheep, goats, cows, (tethered, rather than fenced), and then we we arrived at our hotel: dogs, geckos, lizards, birds, and frogs.  So many frogs that if you walked around at twilight you were likely to be startled by one or two jumping away from you.  Or in my unlucky sister-in-law's case, directly at you as you try to escape them.

Some highlights:

Pufferfish!

f/8, 1/640, ISO 200

After Tuesday's post, are you really that surprised?  And yes, I am the kind of mom that needs to take a picture before taking him down.

Oh, Ezekiel.

f/4, 1/250, ISO 1250

And because... well, just because.  Someone had to document it, so here you go.  This was taken at an indoor playground in a mall in Iloilo, PI.

The Pet Store

f/4, 1/160, ISO 1600  (Auto mode, I believe.)

Bet you $100 I'm on PETA's watch-and-boycott list now...

Love animals?  Well then, head on over to Clan Donaldson for more animals, with (hopefully) less animal cruelty!

Happy Birthday, Ezekiel! (Or: How to Raise a Boy Toddler?)

Happy Birthday, Ezekiel!  2 years and 2 days ago, you came into the world at 10 lbs 1 oz, after taking your sweet time getting here.  Oh, you made me wait and wait as none of your siblings did.  And it was such a sweet thing to finally have you in my arms.

Look at that chunk!

Of course, your delayed birth was only the first  of many (many!) lessons in patience you have taught me.  Apparently, I am a slow learner.

You are now wholly two years old.  You are adorable beyond belief.  You captivate the hearts of every Korean woman around, with your handsome cheesy smile and big gray eyes.  

And heaven help us all, you are, as they say, ALL BOY.  You climb... everything.  You explore... everything.  You take everything out of everywhere. You play with knives hidden so deeply in drawers that even I can't find them.

And sometimes you even light things on fire.

Like this kitchen timer that you removed from the fridge, placed in the (ridiculously low) microwave, and turned on.  Thankfully, at precisely that moment, I walked out of my (okay, our) bedroom and saw the flames from across the house.  Knocking several of your siblings aside on my way, I managed to extinguish the flame in just a few seconds.  I rounded on you with complete exasperation, ready to unleash a tirade of " Ezekiel!  How?  Why?  What the...?!"

But in those soft gray eyes I saw only fear and sorrow.  "Mommy, me sorry.  Mommy, me scared.  Sorry, Mommy.  Sorry!"

So, yes, you test my patience daily (hourly), but you also teach me love and forgiveness and other wonderful things that I might miss out on if not for the crazy it comes with.

I love you, Ezekiel.  Happy birthday to the smallest man in my life.  Thank you for being you.

Mothers' Day Musings

Today I woke up at 9:08 a.m. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  If that doesn't mean something to you, then either you've never had a toddler, or you've forgotten what it's like to have one.

My dearest love, Mr. Wonderful, presented me with coffee while the kids shoved all-the-gifts into my hands at once.  I got an awesome bag from the MOB Society that is now my current purse, and I got this:

Which, in case you missed it, is the very scarf I shamelessly campaigned for a few weeks back.  Proof of two things: my hubby loves me (duh) AND he reads this blog!  I love the scarf so much that I wore it most of the day, ignoring the fact that we've officially moved into 80+ degree weather here.  Isn't it beautiful?!

And the coolest things about this scarf?  The enclosed card telling about the artisan.  Mine was hand-woven by Yilfashewa!

One of her daughters is in school, but the other (Meseret) has a very serious heart condition which requires daily medication and a surgery that may not be possible in Ethiopia.  From her bio:

My income has grown since Connected in Hope began selling our scarves.  I am very grateful.  I hope sales will continue to grow, so I will have enough money to pay for Meseret's medicine and perhaps the operation that she needs.  I am glad people are buying our scarves.  It gives me hope for the future.

Thinking about how this mother struggles to make ends meet, who works her trade faithfully to provide for her family, who has no less love for her children than I do, no matter how different our circumstances may be... It's a beautiful thing to ponder on this special day.

Another random thought I've been pondering this weekend: Did you know that the Saturday before Mothers' Day is celebrated as Birth Mothers' Day, to honor those women who gave their children up for adoption?  I first learned of it this year.  It got me thinking a lot about all the people to whom Mothers' Day might be difficult to celebrate.

Like people who

-struggle with infertility
-gave their babies up for adoption
-had an abortion that they now regret
-have lost a child
-who didn't or don't have good mothers to begin with
-recently (or not so recently) lost their mothers
-struggle in their role as a mother
-are far away from their mothers

I'm sure there are other reasons out there.  I personally know someone in each category above.  I'll be holding them all in my heart today and for the rest of the week.

I hope that whatever this day means to you, you find peace and are able to celebrate the spiritual, physical, and emotional mothers in your life.

Happy Mothers' Day to everyone!

Happy Birthday, Kev!

Kevin,

Happy Birthday!  I'm so lucky to have you as a husband.  You are perfect for me, and an amazing father to boot. I'll limit the gushing sentimentalism since I already did a lot of that last week and I know how much it embarrasses you.  Instead: I love you, and you rock.

P.S. In case you need proof of my love and affection for you: May I remind you that I once successfully stalled active labor for 18+ hours so as not to have your birthday usurped by baby Zeke?  True story.

Mama: Theme Thursday

The mamas in my life:

My very own bestest-in-the-world mama (and a drunken Ezekiel?):

My daddy's mama, Grandma Betty, who is fierce and loving and holy and a force to be reckoned with:

My mama by marriage, and a better mother in law than I deserve or ever could have hoped for:

Kevin's Grandma Henrietta, just recently passed into heaven:

Not pictured: my very camera shy Granny, and Kevin's Grandma Mary who passed long ago.

We are blessed many times over to have these wonderful examples of loving mothers.  Love all of you to itty bitty pieces!

*******

Now for this week's project:

I decided to let the kids capture their favorite part of me in a photo.  This was awfully hard for me, Type A that I am.  First I had to relinquish control of my preciousssss camera.  Then, I had to allow someone to take a picture of me.  (I do not like this.  Oh, no.  I really do not.)  And then, and THEN, I had to resist the urge to Photoshop the H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of my crows feet, wrinkles, blemishes, and double chin.  If that's not a mother's love for her children, I don't know what is.

And now: my children's mama, in their own photography:

Gianna: I like your from your shoulders up to your head, and your hair the best. (Um, you mean my face?) Yeah, I like your face.  (Thanks, babe. I like your face, too.)

Aliya: I like your hair the best.  No, not like that.  Can you make it go over your shoulder?  [47 clicks and recompositions before...] Yes!  That's a good picture!  (Type A/photographer in the making, perhaps?)

Gabriel: I like your hair.  [One click] Okay, all done. [Runs off to sword fight with the bushes.]

Ezekiel: Nurse?  (Uuummmmm, no.  How about my eyes?)  Okay, Mommy.  You eyes.


Happy Mothers Day to all you mothers, soon to be mothers, people with mothers, and pretty much anyone.  Celebrate!

Head on over to Clan Donaldson for some more motherly love.

You Can't Fix Joy

It's been a rough couple of weeks.  The house hasn't been truly clean in I don't know how long.  (Oh yes, I do.  It was when the housekeeper came 3 weeks ago.)  The laundry hasn't been caught up since before that.  And all that would probably be okay if I was having a spectacularly creative or effusively happy time with the kids.  But I'm not.  The girls have been fighting a lot, Ezekiel has completely un-potty-trained himself, and Gabriel - wait for it - didn't nap today, and I'm sensing he's nearing the end of napping.  Calgon, take me away.  (Now, dang it.  That was not a request.  Take me away now.)

Some days, I just want to bang.my.head.against.a.wall.  Scratch that.  I get that feeling every day lately, to some varying degree, for some varying length of time.  You wouldn't know it, though, because I usually don't share the head-banging urges.  Mostly because they are fleeting and because even in the midst of all the crazy, I still find joy in this life of mine.

Oh, you think she's crazy now?  Keep reading!

Often, however the reason I don't share is because I'm worried about what other people will think.  Weird, right?  The woman who defies convention after modern-day convention (and then obnoxiously peppers the Internet with her musings) is worried what other people will think about her?  

Worse, I'm worried about what other people will say, in their effort to be helpful or caring.

If I:

• mention that one of the girls is fighting me on homeschooling, what well-meaning friend will ask: Why don't you just put them in school?
• talk about being worried about money when we go back to the States, which friend will suggest that I just go back to teaching?  
• ponder aloud the sheer volume of our family's laundry and my ineptitude at staying on top of it, who will wonder how I could even consider wanting more kids, much less cloth diapering them?

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  I think about these things a lot, but mostly when I'm having a bad day/week/month/quarter.  But something holds me back from sharing about them, and I think I just figured out what it was.

Quick!  Come over here and hide from the nutty lady!

Of all my in-real-life friends, I have the most kids.  Of my college friends, I'm one of the only ones who has chosen to stay home with kids rather than continuing a career, and I'm the only (friendly) psychopath who has elected to homeschool the little darlings.

So my subconscious mind says: 

Micaela, suck it up.  You made your co-sleeping bed, now lie in it.  Don't you dare go sharing about how hard it is or people might never want to have more than 2 kids.  They might never homebirth or homeschool and they might not do it because your complaining turned them off.  Because you made them scared and fearful, or at the very least, wary.  Micaela, keep your struggles to yourself, because not only did you make these decisions and forfeit your right to complain about them, but [warning: brutal honesty ahead] if you only present the rosy side of your life, you might possibly fool someone into thinking [insert religious/holistic practice here] is so great that they jump right in and give it a try.

(echo echo echo...)

Pardon my language, but WTH was I (subconsciously) thinking?

Why, yes, my mom IS crazy.  Thanks for asking!

Look, I haven't intentionally kept secrets or hid parts of my life, and I most certainly wasn't trying to play the serpent in the garden and tempt you with the fruits of my... chicken broth?  I dunno.  But please believe me when I say: I wasn't doing any of this weird head-game stuff on purpose.  As odd as it may seem, all this pride is a misguided by-product of my joyful life.

Let me explain, and I better make it quick cause this post is looooooong and I'm guessing only about 20% who started are still reading, so here goes:

I take a deep and abiding joy in my life.  That joy transcends the happiness/sadness/annoyances of my every day life.  The joy comes from a trust that God is working within me, no matter how badly I muck it up on a daily basis.  That trust and joy provide a center, a true North, to come back to even when things are indescribably hard.

But that's not something most of the world sees.  The world equates joy with happiness.  Ergo: according to the world, if I'm not happy, some aspect of my life must be in need of fixing.  Enter, the well-meaning suggestions.

Today is the day I come clean.  My life isn't rosy.  My life is complicated.  Having 4 kids is hard. (Ha!  My Internet friends with 5, 6, 7+ kids are doubled over with laughter.)  Homeschooling is difficult.  Some days the kids fight all day, and some days I really would like to go back to work, if only just to escape the menacing glare of the laundry monster for a few hours.

But my life is mine and I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China, or all the coffee in Brazil.  Okay fine, maaaaayyyybe for the coffee.

My life is so full of joy, sometimes I'm surprised you can't see it coming out my ears.

Whatever life you've chosen, I hope it's a joyful one for you.  And you have my solemn promise: when you complain about it, I'm not going to think "Well, you made that bed, so lie in it," and I definitely won't try to fix it.  

Because joy doesn't need fixing.  Sometimes all it needs is a beer, and a "Oh, man.  I hear ya, sister."