By Ruth
All the other teachers have returned to China. Our teammates are back in Weinan, our students are starting back to classes, and it's already almost September! It's a bit strange to know I'll still be in America for another two months! We're not used to being around when the summer is ending. I know it doesn't officially end yet, but I am seeing the first signs that fall is approaching. School buses are back in route. The weather has actually been almost cool (meaning not unbearably hot) these past days. And I have seen two flocks of Canadian geese. Neither of them were in a hurry to get anywhere. One flock was leisurely strolling single-file across a parking lot. So I haven't yet heard the pleasant honking sounds as they fly overhead, something I have really missed in past years, but all of this is a sign of things to come. By the end of October, when I finally do return to China, fall really will be here! If I'm awake enough to notice.
I have gotten several sweet/funny emails from students expressing their excitement about the coming baby and wondering when we'll be coming back. I told one student about how we had received so many baby gifts, and she responded with, "I'm so excited that your baby has become wealthy!" I can't email students too often though, because they continually remind me that using the computer is bad when you are pregnant. I don't want to worry them needlessly.
In other news...yeah, there really isn't any other news. But we'll keep you posted...
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Summer of the Flood
By Kevin
All summer long, flooding has ravaged the world. Within the last couple weeks alone, thousands have died and millions people have been displaced in places like Pakistan, central China (including Sichuan, Gansu and Weinan) and northeast China and North Korea (along the Yalu River very close to Tonghua, where I used to live). Floodings apparently followed us home this summer.
As troubling as those floods are, this story isn't about the kind of real life-threatening floods that kill people and ruin lives. This is about the kind of floods that comes from pipes. More of an inconvenience than anything.
Four times in the last few months, we've had to deal with our own floods. Call it the Summer of the Flood.
Flood #1:
It all started in China. As you may remember, Ruth posted about me waking up in the middle of the night wet because water was dripping from the ceiling onto my bed. We were afraid there was a huge water leak, but we discovered that it was due to a leaky hose on Christina's washing machine, which had been pouring water into her laundry porch, then seeping into the floorboards right above our ceiling and percolating down through cracks in our ceiling. Thankfully it was an easy fix and as soon as she replaced the hose, the dripping went away.
Apparently the water troubles followed us home this summer: three times in the last three weeks, we've spent hours trying to get water out of the basement here in Georiga.
Flood #2:
First, the washing machine flooded. Anna had gone down to move her laundry into the dryer and came rushing back upstairs shouting, "the basement is flooded!" The water was a couple inches deep in places, and covered about one-third of the basement floor, but we were able to get it all out with a few hours of sweeping, squeegeeing and Shop-Vacking the soapy floors. When Ruth's Dad got home from work, he figured out what had happened: Apparently a mouse had chewed its way through a plastic hose, making the washing machine unable to shut itself off. He fixed the hose, so we figured that the problem would go away. It didn't.
Flood #3:
A few days later, the washer flooded again. Apparently mice like to eat plastic hoses. I recalled my Honda Civic, which I just sold last month right as we were leaving California (thank you Craigslist). While we were away in China, mice had eaten through the plastic windshield wiper fluid container, prompting my Dad to leave rat poison in a tray under the hood, next to the replacement. This Georgia mouse ate through his second hose in less than a week.
Thankfully, we'd honed the cleanup process a bit, and since most of the boxes in the garage were still displaced from the previous flood, we got the majority of the water out within an hour or so. Washing machine hoses have been replaced with something more indestructible, but a washing machine watch has come into effect any time a load of laundry needs to be done. An exterminator came and trapped the culprits. Ruth's parents decided now's the time to buy a new washing machine. Ruth's mother and sister even went and rescued a cat from a couple on Craigslist looking for a good home for their pet (the local animal shelter apparently only had two waiting for homes, so they branched out) hoping to keep the mice away. If only she'd leave the friendly confines of the carpeted upstairs climb downstairs onto the slippery hardwood floors once in a while, she might drive away the mice. Then again, she might see a mouse and get so frightened that she'd dart right back upstairs. She's still a bit jumpy.
Flood #4:
The fourth incident came last night. It was late and I couldn't sleep. So, after an hour of tossing and turning, somewhere around 1 a.m., I decided to go into the other room to read a bit. The refrigerator was making some strange sounds, but I figured that it was just the ice maker, since it sometimes emits some strange groans and Ruth's Dad had just fixed a problem with it last week.
An hour later, when I figured I was finally tired enough to get some sleep, I made my way through the kitchen and found myself sloshing through water. I rushed and turned on the light. Water was seeping out from under the fridge. A huge puddle had formed in front of it. I didn't want to wake everyone else, so I grabbed some towels and sopped up the mess so the hardwood floors wouldn't be ruined. Then I realized that water was still coming out. I rushed down to the basement, looking for a shutoff valve to turn off the water (keep in mind, this is Ruth's parent's home, so I don't know where these valves are).
Flipping on the light and turning the corner, I couldn't believe my eyes.
The floor was flooded. Again. I stared in dismay. Water was seeping through the ceiling. At least this time the washing machine wasn't the culprit.
I woke up Ruth and she awakened her parents. We repeated the same process as with the washing machine in hopes of saving the basement from mold damage. Thankfully, the water was only an inch deep and limited thus far to about a quarter of the basement, but it was the same part as had flooded before. We realized that water was seeping into the fuse box, so we turned off the power to that section of the basement so we wouldn't get electrocuted. Ruth's father sopped out the water and covered it. We set to work on moving work benches, covering tools and squeegeeing the water out. Candy kept saying, "You're never going to want to come home again."
By 3:30 a.m., we had turned on the dehumidifier (something I never would have dreamed of, coming from dry Southern California, where we use swamp coolers to ADD humidity to the air), dried up the rest of the water under the fridge, and gone back to bed.
For the first time I can remember, it was a blessing that I couldn't sleep. I can't imagine how flooded the basement would have been in the morning otherwise, considering this was probably less than an hour's worth of flooding. But now we can't help but wonder, when will it happen again? What other appliance will fall apart and flood the basement? It's gotten to the point where, when Ruth's Mom calls home, she starts by asking, "Has anything else gone wrong?"
All summer long, flooding has ravaged the world. Within the last couple weeks alone, thousands have died and millions people have been displaced in places like Pakistan, central China (including Sichuan, Gansu and Weinan) and northeast China and North Korea (along the Yalu River very close to Tonghua, where I used to live). Floodings apparently followed us home this summer.
As troubling as those floods are, this story isn't about the kind of real life-threatening floods that kill people and ruin lives. This is about the kind of floods that comes from pipes. More of an inconvenience than anything.
Four times in the last few months, we've had to deal with our own floods. Call it the Summer of the Flood.
Flood #1:
It all started in China. As you may remember, Ruth posted about me waking up in the middle of the night wet because water was dripping from the ceiling onto my bed. We were afraid there was a huge water leak, but we discovered that it was due to a leaky hose on Christina's washing machine, which had been pouring water into her laundry porch, then seeping into the floorboards right above our ceiling and percolating down through cracks in our ceiling. Thankfully it was an easy fix and as soon as she replaced the hose, the dripping went away.
Apparently the water troubles followed us home this summer: three times in the last three weeks, we've spent hours trying to get water out of the basement here in Georiga.
Flood #2:
First, the washing machine flooded. Anna had gone down to move her laundry into the dryer and came rushing back upstairs shouting, "the basement is flooded!" The water was a couple inches deep in places, and covered about one-third of the basement floor, but we were able to get it all out with a few hours of sweeping, squeegeeing and Shop-Vacking the soapy floors. When Ruth's Dad got home from work, he figured out what had happened: Apparently a mouse had chewed its way through a plastic hose, making the washing machine unable to shut itself off. He fixed the hose, so we figured that the problem would go away. It didn't.
Flood #3:
A few days later, the washer flooded again. Apparently mice like to eat plastic hoses. I recalled my Honda Civic, which I just sold last month right as we were leaving California (thank you Craigslist). While we were away in China, mice had eaten through the plastic windshield wiper fluid container, prompting my Dad to leave rat poison in a tray under the hood, next to the replacement. This Georgia mouse ate through his second hose in less than a week.
Thankfully, we'd honed the cleanup process a bit, and since most of the boxes in the garage were still displaced from the previous flood, we got the majority of the water out within an hour or so. Washing machine hoses have been replaced with something more indestructible, but a washing machine watch has come into effect any time a load of laundry needs to be done. An exterminator came and trapped the culprits. Ruth's parents decided now's the time to buy a new washing machine. Ruth's mother and sister even went and rescued a cat from a couple on Craigslist looking for a good home for their pet (the local animal shelter apparently only had two waiting for homes, so they branched out) hoping to keep the mice away. If only she'd leave the friendly confines of the carpeted upstairs climb downstairs onto the slippery hardwood floors once in a while, she might drive away the mice. Then again, she might see a mouse and get so frightened that she'd dart right back upstairs. She's still a bit jumpy.
Flood #4:
The fourth incident came last night. It was late and I couldn't sleep. So, after an hour of tossing and turning, somewhere around 1 a.m., I decided to go into the other room to read a bit. The refrigerator was making some strange sounds, but I figured that it was just the ice maker, since it sometimes emits some strange groans and Ruth's Dad had just fixed a problem with it last week.
An hour later, when I figured I was finally tired enough to get some sleep, I made my way through the kitchen and found myself sloshing through water. I rushed and turned on the light. Water was seeping out from under the fridge. A huge puddle had formed in front of it. I didn't want to wake everyone else, so I grabbed some towels and sopped up the mess so the hardwood floors wouldn't be ruined. Then I realized that water was still coming out. I rushed down to the basement, looking for a shutoff valve to turn off the water (keep in mind, this is Ruth's parent's home, so I don't know where these valves are).
Flipping on the light and turning the corner, I couldn't believe my eyes.
The floor was flooded. Again. I stared in dismay. Water was seeping through the ceiling. At least this time the washing machine wasn't the culprit.
I woke up Ruth and she awakened her parents. We repeated the same process as with the washing machine in hopes of saving the basement from mold damage. Thankfully, the water was only an inch deep and limited thus far to about a quarter of the basement, but it was the same part as had flooded before. We realized that water was seeping into the fuse box, so we turned off the power to that section of the basement so we wouldn't get electrocuted. Ruth's father sopped out the water and covered it. We set to work on moving work benches, covering tools and squeegeeing the water out. Candy kept saying, "You're never going to want to come home again."
By 3:30 a.m., we had turned on the dehumidifier (something I never would have dreamed of, coming from dry Southern California, where we use swamp coolers to ADD humidity to the air), dried up the rest of the water under the fridge, and gone back to bed.
For the first time I can remember, it was a blessing that I couldn't sleep. I can't imagine how flooded the basement would have been in the morning otherwise, considering this was probably less than an hour's worth of flooding. But now we can't help but wonder, when will it happen again? What other appliance will fall apart and flood the basement? It's gotten to the point where, when Ruth's Mom calls home, she starts by asking, "Has anything else gone wrong?"
Friday, August 20, 2010
Waiting for Baby
by Ruth I've heard that women often experience a burst of "nesting" energy shortly before going into labor when they suddenly feel motivated to get everything organized. Clearly I am not about to go into labor.
It's a shame that pregnancy is such a non-productive time because right now I have more free time than I probably will in the next 20 years. I still have another five weeks until baby is due, and basically I'm just hanging around waiting. I'm not exactly complaining about having nothing to do. If there is ever a time in my life when I am content to sit around doing nothing all day, this is probably it. And I have things I could do. I have some nice little to-do lists made up. Sometimes I contemplate actually doing something from the list. And then I take a nap.
So what have we been doing in these past weeks of waiting?
Well, I have just entered the weekly doctor visit phase, and boy I'm glad to not be traveling 12 hrs to get there! Actually, my "doctor" is a midwife, and I just love her! Many people are confused because they think midwife=home birth, but this is not necessarily the case.
Statistical interlude: The percentage of home births in the US has remained at less than 1% while the percentage of midwife attended births had increased (statistics vary on this, maybe somewhere around 4-8% of US births are midwife attended). Interestingly, according to WHO, about 75% of European births are attended by midwives. All countries with lower "perinatal" mortality rates than the US, I might add.
In my case, I have a certified-nurse midwife who works in a hospital. I can't say I honestly did a bunch of research and after thoughtful deliberation I decided this was the best choice. I did what I have done for most of my pregnancy and childbirth related decisions: I copied my cousin. :) She just had a baby last year and highly recommended this midwife and hospital. And since I wasn't getting here until 3/4 of the way through my pregnancy, having a good recommendation seemed like the way to go.
But now that I have met with this midwife several times, I am so glad I "happened" upon this choice. I saw 5 different doctors in Thailand, China, and California over the course of the pregnancy, none of whom were bad, but when I finally met with my midwife here I thought, "She's amazing!" Here are the reasons why I love her:
1. She actually spends time with you instead of rushing in and rushing out.
2. She takes time to answer questions and explains things.
3. She doesn't make me feel dumb or annoying for any of the questions I ask.
4. She seems to be flexible instead of "there is only one right way, and it's my way." She encourages natural childbirth but isn't one of those people who think you're less of a woman if you opt for drugs.
5. She seems to think it's perfectly normal that we live in and are returning to China. Which I realize is not a defining reason for choosing a doctor or anything, but it's still pretty cool.
In general, midwives take the approach that most childbirth is a natural process, not a medical problem that needs to be solved. It's great that we have all the medical interventions when they are needed, but let's not use them just because they are there and we feel like we have to do something. Also, midwives are apparently around to offer support during a lot of the labor and delivery instead of just popping in at the last minute.
So, there is my plug for midwives. Or at least, for my midwife.
Other than going to the doctor frequently, we have been attending childbirth class, another advantage of being in the States during this time. Our childbirth instructor asked us to describe our ideal birth experience and I thought, "Um, I don't know? I can't say I've thought too much about it. I'm glad that the doctor and nurses will speak English..." So far we have talked about things like the stages of labor and different labor positions to try (who knew, you don't have to just lie in bed the whole time like in the movies). I also created a "birth plan." I tried to picture coming into a Chinese hospital (maybe not the fancy one in Beijing, but one of your other average hospitals) and saying, "This is my birth plan." I think they would laugh a lot and then probably cart me off for a c-section. In the general Chinese hospital, the husband isn't even allowed to be present during labor and delivery. And somehow I doubt they have quite the same "create your own ideal labor...it's all about you" idea. It seems like one of those individualist kind of things.
Statistical interlude: According to a NY Times article earlier this year, the US cesarean rate has reached 32% and in China the rate is approaching 50%. The recommended level, according to WHO, is about 15%.Additionally, I have been wading through the piles of baby items we have received. Have no fear; our child will be well clothed. I only hope she won't grow to expect this much in later life, unless we can continue to get this many cute clothes without having to buy any of them. I contemplate how we will get it all back to China and try to imagine what our students will think, when they were already a little overwhelmed by the 5 baby things we had in Weinan.
The item I am currently most excited about is our incredibly cool "Peapod" baby tent! This travel bed can be used for infants through about three years, weighs less than 5 lbs, and folds up into a little 14" round travel bag. Take that, Pack n' Play!
On my to-do list for the next month:
- Pack hospital bag...you'd think you were moving to China for all the things they tell you to bring
- Figure out how this whole baby passport/visa process will work
- Read books about childbirth and babies (I have recently developed quite an interest in this subject...)
- Make a baby quilt
- Wash a bazillion baby clothes
- Take a lot of naps
And perhaps...
- Have baby
That's right...we're just over one month (though still 5 weeks) from due date - September 23rd!
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| Playing with my new stroller. And a baby doll. Because I am very grown up. |
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Funny Places
 |
| What we look like these days (except this is a week old, so I now look about twice as pregnant.) |
by Ruth
The South is a funny place. Everybody smiles and waves at you on the street, but they're liable to shoot you if they find you trespassing on their property. They might yell at you first, or call in the dogs, but you can bet they've got a shotgun nearby. I shouldn't spread these stereotypes because some of you nice Californians who have never been to Georgia are now thinking it's more dangerous than the shady parts of LA, and that's really not true. All you have to do is talk to someone with a good Southern accent and you'll swear they are the nicest person you've ever met, all shotguns aside. There's nothing like a good Southern accent. Except maybe a nice fried-apple pie from the Varsity.
Anyway, we have indeed come to rest in the land of shotguns and fried-apple pies, aka Georgia. I think it gets more humid every time I'm here, but probably I've just become one of those dry-climate wimps who can't handle a little air-oppression. Or the 7 months pregnant could have something to do with it. I have now officially entered the "no-fly" zone. For most people, not being able to fly for a couple of months wouldn't seem like a big deal. But for me, it's pretty weird. After all, let us not forget the 68 flights in the past 5 years. It reminds me of "entering the time of confinement" back in the olden days.
We've been enjoying our summer in the States so far. One of the best things has been all the time we've spent with friends. Yes, even better than Taco Bell. We both miss friends so much while we are gone. I forget that some people have friends they see more than once a year. Weird thought. I love laughing and being sarcastic, seeing friends' kids who are twice as big as last time but still remember you, calling someone up and saying, "Let's hang out," and actually looking at someone while talking to them, with no web-cam delays. I'll never get tired of that.
I always enjoy being back in America, but this summer has been different because I realized I don't really want to live here. Which is good since I probably won't be for at least some time. I enjoy the novelty of it all but recognize that Taco Bell wouldn't be quite so exciting if I drove past it every day. There are still things I really like about America, things even deeper than Taco Bell. Like friends that you actually see more than once a year. And (especially right now) the reassurance of knowing you can easily get to a good doctor if anything goes wrong. The overabundance of A/C (ok, we're moving back toward shallow...). Not being the crazy foreigners that everyone stares at. Our kids being able to grow up around their grandparents and aunts and uncles. But lately, I can't quite picture living here. Now that we've been away, coming back would never be quite the same.
We were visiting the other day with some friends who are about to move to China and talking about some of the things we like about it. It really made me miss China and our students and our apartment and the little restaurants we go to every week and the smiling old ladies who sit by the school gate. There are still things I really don't like about China, but often I can just shake my head and say, with fond amusement, "China is a funny place."
Similar to the way I shake my head in amused camaraderie and say, "Ah, the South. With its shotguns and apple pie. It's weird, but there's nothing quite like it."
Monday, July 19, 2010
Ruth vs. Mutinous Body ("...and the winner is...Ruvina!")
Ruvina has apparently taken up Tae Bo. She is very diligent about practicing too. When it's time to take a break from all the kicking, she switches to somersaults and flips, and sometimes I think she's taken up lap swimming. I don't know she manages in such a small space, but probably the flexibility from all that yoga helps out. If I did half as much exercise as she, I'd be in great shape.
She does seem to feel the confinement sometimes, though. At those times, I watch my stomach rock and jump and bulge as she tries to break out, perhaps confusing herself with a bird in a shell. Actually, I imagine her getting suited up in a tiny superhero outfit, getting ready to shoot off into the sky, fist in air.
Despite these constant, forceful reminders of Ruvina's presence, it still doesn't seem real that we're going to have a baby in just about two months! Two months is not long. But it still seems all vague and distant, and a small part of me is convinced I will just remain suspended in this pregnant state forever.
That's not exactly my first choice. I've never been one of those people who desires to be eternally pregnant. My body is getting as antsy as Ruvina is. Everyone says the third trimester you feel hot and tired and uncomfortable, and guess what - it's true! It seems like the day I hit the third trimester, my body suddenly decided, "Enough of this. I'm staging a protest."
First my joints went on strike. That's why whenever I stand up and try to walk, I look like I have no hip joints. My leg muscles had a nervous breakdown and started spazzing out. Then my back decided to start burning and looting. Think smashed up cars and yelling crowds and smoke and fire. My stomach decided to participate by shooting off flares.
My internal cooling system left for vacation, claiming to be overworked and under-appreciated all these years. As it drove off for the beach, I think I heard it yell back, "Thought you were just naturally cold-blooded all this time? No! That was all my hard work. Let's see how you like mid-summer without me!" And then there was some evil laughter.
My body's general manager became concerned about the excessive energy output and flipped the switch to "permanent low-power mode." I read the fine print warning and it says things like, "Caution: Low-power mode will result in tremendous effort to stand up, walk more than 10 feet, or even roll over in bed. You will almost certainly experience frequent breathlessness, panting after one flight of stairs, continual exhaustion, difficulty sleeping, persistent hunger, decreased brain activity, memory loss, unexplained crying, and irrational thoughts, such as the idea that your body has banded together in mutiny."
Despite all these things, I am strangely happy in this stage of life. Ever since I got over throwing up all the time, I have been overall very happy. Kevin might beg to differ, since he gets the most play-by-play in this war of Ruth vs. mutinous body, but it really is true. I stumble out of the fight tired, hungry, and somewhat disoriented, but I get a good nap or something to eat, and then I'm happy again. It's like my psyche chose to show mercy and become my ally. The happy, bubbly Good Fairy decided it's time for "default happy mode." It's kind of weird, but I'm okay with it.
On a side note, I will reassure you once again that Ruvina will not be the name showing up on a birth certificate. Although, it does seem like a very appropriate name for a 3lb pre-birth, exercise-fanatic superhero. We are very close to deciding on a post-birth name. We are also very close to deciding not to tell the name until the baby is born. Because, what if we change our mind? And besides, until the baby is officially born, random strangers think they should still have a say in your choice, and untactful people (don't judge, you could be one of them) feel it is their responsibility to tell you they knew someone with that name who was a total brat/world tyrant/very ugly. But once baby is born, the only people with so little tact as to tell you they hate your name choice (at least to your face) are the ones who would also tell you your baby is ugly, and we don't speak to them anyway.
So, you may very well be left in suspense for two more months, by which time you will probably be so attached to Ruvina that you refuse to call her by any other name. And as long as you also say she is the most beautiful/perfect/intelligent/aerobically fit baby that has ever lived, we'll probably let you get away with it.
She does seem to feel the confinement sometimes, though. At those times, I watch my stomach rock and jump and bulge as she tries to break out, perhaps confusing herself with a bird in a shell. Actually, I imagine her getting suited up in a tiny superhero outfit, getting ready to shoot off into the sky, fist in air.
Despite these constant, forceful reminders of Ruvina's presence, it still doesn't seem real that we're going to have a baby in just about two months! Two months is not long. But it still seems all vague and distant, and a small part of me is convinced I will just remain suspended in this pregnant state forever.
That's not exactly my first choice. I've never been one of those people who desires to be eternally pregnant. My body is getting as antsy as Ruvina is. Everyone says the third trimester you feel hot and tired and uncomfortable, and guess what - it's true! It seems like the day I hit the third trimester, my body suddenly decided, "Enough of this. I'm staging a protest."
First my joints went on strike. That's why whenever I stand up and try to walk, I look like I have no hip joints. My leg muscles had a nervous breakdown and started spazzing out. Then my back decided to start burning and looting. Think smashed up cars and yelling crowds and smoke and fire. My stomach decided to participate by shooting off flares.
My internal cooling system left for vacation, claiming to be overworked and under-appreciated all these years. As it drove off for the beach, I think I heard it yell back, "Thought you were just naturally cold-blooded all this time? No! That was all my hard work. Let's see how you like mid-summer without me!" And then there was some evil laughter.
My body's general manager became concerned about the excessive energy output and flipped the switch to "permanent low-power mode." I read the fine print warning and it says things like, "Caution: Low-power mode will result in tremendous effort to stand up, walk more than 10 feet, or even roll over in bed. You will almost certainly experience frequent breathlessness, panting after one flight of stairs, continual exhaustion, difficulty sleeping, persistent hunger, decreased brain activity, memory loss, unexplained crying, and irrational thoughts, such as the idea that your body has banded together in mutiny."
Despite all these things, I am strangely happy in this stage of life. Ever since I got over throwing up all the time, I have been overall very happy. Kevin might beg to differ, since he gets the most play-by-play in this war of Ruth vs. mutinous body, but it really is true. I stumble out of the fight tired, hungry, and somewhat disoriented, but I get a good nap or something to eat, and then I'm happy again. It's like my psyche chose to show mercy and become my ally. The happy, bubbly Good Fairy decided it's time for "default happy mode." It's kind of weird, but I'm okay with it.
On a side note, I will reassure you once again that Ruvina will not be the name showing up on a birth certificate. Although, it does seem like a very appropriate name for a 3lb pre-birth, exercise-fanatic superhero. We are very close to deciding on a post-birth name. We are also very close to deciding not to tell the name until the baby is born. Because, what if we change our mind? And besides, until the baby is officially born, random strangers think they should still have a say in your choice, and untactful people (don't judge, you could be one of them) feel it is their responsibility to tell you they knew someone with that name who was a total brat/world tyrant/very ugly. But once baby is born, the only people with so little tact as to tell you they hate your name choice (at least to your face) are the ones who would also tell you your baby is ugly, and we don't speak to them anyway.
So, you may very well be left in suspense for two more months, by which time you will probably be so attached to Ruvina that you refuse to call her by any other name. And as long as you also say she is the most beautiful/perfect/intelligent/aerobically fit baby that has ever lived, we'll probably let you get away with it.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Beach Photo Shoot
We are enjoying our time in California! Here are a few pictures from a recent photo shoot on the beach (compliments of Scott, Kevin's brother). In just about two and a half months we'll be a family of three!!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Past 5 Days
A disordered and un-comprehensive list by Ruth
In the past 5 days...
I remembered what cheddar cheese tastes like.
I keep forgetting we're supposed to flush TP.
I saw at least five times as many stars as in the entire past year.
I realized the nearest neighbors are so far away I can't even smell their cooking.
I shot ice right out of the fridge door whenever I wanted it.
I can easily eat three kinds of dairy in one meal.
Two of them are probably cheese.
I stayed up til 1:30am hanging out with friends. This is amazing both in the fact that I got to hang out with friends and that I stayed awake past 10pm!
I finally started sleeping past sunrise (yay for overcoming jetlag).
I watched a TV show called "I didn't know I was pregnant" (Uh-mazing by the way, about women who didn't know they were pregnant until they went into labor. To which I would like to say, "Seriously??")
I watched part of a lumberjack contest.
And learned that for 4 years there was a state of Franklin (now part of TN).
On the news, they paused to show a "cute baby of the day." Then they shared a story about two adopted puppies.
My conclusion? American TV is WEIRD.
I went to the doctor and it was only a 45 minute drive instead of a 12hr train ride. So I really can't complain about the wait at the office.
I ate Taco Bell, and it was every bit as good as I've imagined for the past four months.
And I found out (still reading?)...
WE'RE HAVING A GIRL!!!
In the past 5 days...
I remembered what cheddar cheese tastes like.
I keep forgetting we're supposed to flush TP.
I saw at least five times as many stars as in the entire past year.
I realized the nearest neighbors are so far away I can't even smell their cooking.
I shot ice right out of the fridge door whenever I wanted it.
I can easily eat three kinds of dairy in one meal.
Two of them are probably cheese.
I stayed up til 1:30am hanging out with friends. This is amazing both in the fact that I got to hang out with friends and that I stayed awake past 10pm!
I finally started sleeping past sunrise (yay for overcoming jetlag).
I watched a TV show called "I didn't know I was pregnant" (Uh-mazing by the way, about women who didn't know they were pregnant until they went into labor. To which I would like to say, "Seriously??")
I watched part of a lumberjack contest.
And learned that for 4 years there was a state of Franklin (now part of TN).
On the news, they paused to show a "cute baby of the day." Then they shared a story about two adopted puppies.
My conclusion? American TV is WEIRD.
I went to the doctor and it was only a 45 minute drive instead of a 12hr train ride. So I really can't complain about the wait at the office.
I ate Taco Bell, and it was every bit as good as I've imagined for the past four months.
And I found out (still reading?)...
WE'RE HAVING A GIRL!!!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Party Time
by Ruth
This last week, in addition to finishing up our final exams, we have been giving parties for our classes. Well, actually I am only doing parties for the students I particularly like, the sophomores I have been teaching for the past two years. We have become quite attached to each other and they love me immensely. :) Although one of them did cheer when I mentioned they wouldn't have any more Oral English class...
Chinese parties are a little different from American parties. Here, the core of the party is a series of performances which everyone sits around and watches. I told my students to plan performances, bring food, and decorate, and so far they have taken their parties very seriously.
The other night was my second party which was the most enthusiastic of them all. When I arrived, students were rushing around excitedly blowing up balloons, pushing desks out of the way, slicing watermelon, and turning up the already blaring music. Some students had come early to decorate. The board was covered with pictures and colorful writing. Balloons were hung from the walls and ceiling and even the fans were decked with streamers.
In the corner, the group of students in charge of snacks started to chop up three large watermelons. They moved around the desks scattering piles of sunflower seeds, salty dried peas, some kind of semi-popped corn, and candy.
More and more students appeared, some of them wearing fancy dresses and makeup. Most students (and Chinese people in general) hardly ever wear makeup, and when they do it's full-on stage makeup. As the students piled in, the room grew louder and louder. They excitedly greeted one another like they hadn't just spent all day in class with each other. Every few minutes a balloon would explode, accompanied by shrieks of surprise. The music, which I had the students turn down for fear of disrupting the entire campus, had somehow returned to it's normal blaring volume. After all, what is a party without lots and lots of noise?
The MC/host (another necessity for any real party) finally called the students to attention. Lara hosts the school radio program each week, so she has her “host” voice down pat. “Ladies and gentlemen, my dear classmates, let us be quiet. Be a little silent now.” She began our party by calling on students to express thanks to me. They all basically said the same thing, but it was sweet. After this the performances began.
They were mostly typical performances: one student sang “Yesterday Once More” and another “Take me to Your Heart.” Some others danced to “My Heart Will Go On.” Several groups did role plays (one followed by a Q&A session where they quizzed the students on the events of role play). Two small, sweet girls got up and demonstrated some kind of kickboxing.
During the songs, the students waved their arms around in the air, snapped pictures with their mobile phones, and took turn running up to bring balloons and candy to the performer (another important part of any performance). If someone made a mistake or forgot the words, they cheered even louder than when they actually sang well.
Throughout, the entire room cracked their way through piles of sunflower seeds. They are really adept at sunflower seeds. In about 3 seconds they've got it cracked, extracted the seed, discarded the shell, and are going for another one. It's a skill that seems to be as inbred as breathing or squatting or operating a mobile phone.
There were several games. The most important part of any Chinese game is the punishment at the end – typically, giving a performance. Prizes for the winners seem rare, but punishment for the losers is a must. At one point, when Lara decided the students weren't paying enough attention, she threatened that anyone not listening closely would have to give a performance. Usually, when called on to give a performance, students will pretend to resist for half a minute, then they will jump up and say, “Well, I have prepared a song for you...”
The night wore on and Lara had announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, now for our last performance...” about five times already. Finally it really was the last performance – me. I had decided I would sing a song for the students because I knew it would make them so happy, and they would probably find a way to rope me into it anyway. I don't think I would ever sing by myself in front of a group of people in America, but China is sometimes like another dimension of reality altogether. Besides, it doesn't seem to matter if you are actually talented. I sang “I Hope You Dance” (they really eat up cheesiness) and the students were appropriately thrilled and promptly pulled out their phones to record me. I'm sure I am now all over the internet. So long as I (or anyone I know outside of China) never have to see it...
And then the party was over, except the long line of students waiting to take a picture with me. We really are like celebrities. At the end of the year, students usually get all sentimental and tell you how much they love you and how much they'll miss you and how beautiful you are and what a lovely baby you will have and stuff. I, in turn, am filled with warm, pleasant thoughts and forget how annoyed I was with them in class just last week. Then everyone goes off to live their happy everyday. Not a bad way to end things.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
My 5-Part McDonalds Adventure
by Ruth
I had only been to McDonalds once this semester (the only western food in Weinan other than KFC, which I just don't like). It tastes good, but I always feel kind of gross afterwards, and it certainly did not mix well with morning sickness. But lately I had been craving a good milkshake (good in this case meaning “the only one around”). I also had quizzes to grade and thought it might be a nice diversion to mix up the environment (with air-conditioning being a big plus). You could say it was a five-part adventure.
1. Free Cup
It turned out to be totally worth it because not only did the milkshake live up to my expectations, we got a free Coca-cola/World Cup glass with our meal! For some reason, I found this very exciting. It's not that I care about the World Cup or really need another glass, but it's a nice glass. In that old Coca-cola/soda fountain shape. Real glass. And they just gave it to us! Way better than a Happy Meal toy.
2. Foreigners
While at McDonalds, we saw a couple of the other foreigners who teach at a different school in Weinan. We seem to run into each other just about every time I've been at McD's, so that wasn't unexpected. What I didn't expect to see was two separate, never-before-seen foreign men. I stared hard at both but of course didn't talk to them because that would have been awkward. (I did try to not obviously stare at them, at least while they were looking. But when I first saw them, I did stare for a minute because it took my brain a while to process, “Something is strange about this, what could it be?...they look a bit different...OH! It's a foreigner! What in the world?). It really is strange to see random foreigners wondering around in Weinan. I know it's not one of the dozen that lives here, so what could they be doing here? It's not really a place you just drop by for no reason.
3. Students
So that was the first interesting experience. We also saw three of our students. We don't usually see students there because it's so expensive. One of them came over to talk with us and we marveled together at the strange foreigners, appraised their appearance, and speculated as to what they were doing. Sometimes it's just nice to be the one doing the staring. To be the one that belongs here and gaze suspiciously at the outsider. You can forget that to everyone else, you are and will always be just as much of an outsider. The other people in the restaurant were probably having a great day. Seven foreigners, very Westerners looking foreigners, in one day. How often does that happen?
4. Rabbits
Some kids settled into a table next to us, bringing with them little baby rabbits! I mean, sure they were jumping around on the table and that can't be totally sanitary, but they were really cute. So little. I tried not to think about how long they would/wouldn't live. After a while the rabbits got relegated to the floor, cornered behind a skateboard, and food replaced them on the table. The kids did considerately bring in some grass to spread on the floor, just in case the rabbits were hungry too. Foreigners, rabbits...it was all very distracting. McDonalds is such a happening place.
5. Quizzes
I tried to concentrate on the Chinglish quizzes I was grading. Sometimes I would get distracted by the quizzes and the funny answers students would put. The quiz contained a variety of “Chinglish” phrases (weird/incorrect things students often say) we had gone over in class, and they had to write the correct phrase. Most of them were either correct or were same-old boring Chinglish, but a few came up with some interesting ways to change the sentences.
One phrase they had to correct was, “I'm just making a kidding,” which should have been changed to “I'm just joking,” or “I'm just kidding” or something.
Several students changed it to, “I'm just for fun!” and one wrote, “I'm just making a kid.” Not quite the same...
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Children's Day
By Ruth
This morning Kevin and I were the special guests at a primary school outside Weinan. Today is Children's Day, and one of my students had asked us to come to the school she works at on the weekends. They were having a special celebration and could we come sing songs and play games with 100 children?
This morning Kevin and I were the special guests at a primary school outside Weinan. Today is Children's Day, and one of my students had asked us to come to the school she works at on the weekends. They were having a special celebration and could we come sing songs and play games with 100 children?
This morning we piled into a van to begin the bumpy “1 hour” trip to Dali, a small town which is actually at least an hour and a half away. It's funny, because things always take longer than expected, always, but for some reason I still set out thinking, “One hour.” I never learn.
When we walked in the small school building, a group of students sat inside the door, staring at us interestedly through their makeup and costumes. “Later they will perform for you!” my student said. She said they told the students to come at 9:30am (about when we arrived), but many of them were so excited they had arrived at 7:30am. “They hadn't even eaten breakfast! We tried to get them to go back home and eat, but they didn't want to miss anything.”
[Waiting Eagerly]
We went upstairs to where the students were waiting, crowded around the walls of a small room. It looked like less than 100, but then they were all pretty small and sitting very close together. The headmaster said there were 90 students at the school, and I doubt any of them missed our visit.
We started with B-I-N-G-O, which some of them already knew. Actually, when we started singing, “There was a farmer had a dog...” they all cried out “EI-EI-O!” So later we sang that song as well. We did Hokey-Pokey, Simon Says, Ten in a Bed, and some other songs, with my student helping to translate the instructions for the students. If nothing else, they loved to do the actions and shout out the words they could remember. After about half an hour, my student said, “Okay, we can take a break and watch their performance.” Two groups of little girls came and danced, first a Chinese dance and then a cha-cha. They were all decked out and mostly very serious, quite good for 8-12 year olds.
Then it was time for more games and songs, another half hour until I ran out of items on my list. I was pretty tired by that point, from all the singing and shouting and jumping up and down. The students then began to process up with little gifts for us – pictures and cards they had drawn, paper-folded shapes and animals – it was really quite cute. Then they gathered round for group pictures with us before being sent off.
And seven hours later, we were back. Naptime!
[The little girl in orange I just thought was too cute!]
[This little boy is holding the folded paper bird he made for us.]
[One of the classes getting arranged for picture time with the foreigners.]
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