The Artful Giver

Some of our co-worker friends have started an organization that provides art supplies for an orphanage in Krivoy Rog. They also auction off artwork made by the students (who are using the donated supplies!) There are a couple pieces that you can bid on now...Please check out their website www.artfulgiver.org.
Also, they aren't yet a 501K (non-profit) because they need help going through the hoops. If you can, please help!

Marigolds

It's the end of March and the snow has just melted off the ground! The Spring breezes are blowing today and walks are once again pleasant.
Lately we've had a rough go with our nanny. The poor thing got chicken pox last week. Ken stayed home on Monday to take care of Rawly and I took Tuesday off. We both really enjoyed our time with the wee little one, but needed to be back at work. Fortunately a co-workers' friend was available to fill-in for the rest of the week. She doesn't speak English, so Olga (co-worker) came to translate the first morning. She's really cute and tries to tell me everything in Russian, but luckily her husband knows English, so between him on speakerphone or an electric translator we've been communicating! She writes down a brief descriptions of what they did throughout the day. This is one of my favorites:
i cut marigold on hand and on foot. i see, how on foot on big finger--wound. He marigold break down? Must plaster?
Marigolds, hmmm, it is hinting at Spring but we're still a long way from having blooming flowers...okay, I thought, she must mean finger nails. That morning we had trimmed one of his big toe nails because it had split--there was a little area that looks like a hangnail, so she thought that he might need a band-aid. As I had guessed, the words marigold and fingernail are very similar in Russian, hence the cut marigolds in March:)

Wrapped in plastic

This may be humorous only to those who have lived here, but here's a little background info for those of you living vicariously through us--you know who you are, don't deny it, you have secretly always dreamed of living in Ukraine! Every type of document is stored in a plastic sleeve. A P.E. teacher has even said she gets, "Please excuse Sasha" notes in a sleeve.(Sasha is the common Ukrainian name here for boys or girls equivalent to how we always say Johnny or Sally.)
We were at the American Medical Clinic (which I'm so thankful for the AMC) waiting in the lobby when Rawly filled his drawers. We had come directly from school, so didn't have a change of clothes and wanted to get him into a new diaper pronto so that he wouldn't be messy. Since there aren't really changing tables anywhere, we've grown accustomed to the quick change on our laps...so without thinking, we stripped him down. Unfortunately, his diaper had been folded when he had been changed last, so as we held him up, out came the poo--all over everywhere! About that time, the doctor came out to get us. So I had poop all over my coat and pants and Ken was holding a half naked baby. Shocked, the doctor suggested that we change him in the room where it was warmer. Oh silly parents.
Anyway, the doctor began his examination--Rawly needed his clothes off for that anyway, right? Once the appointment was finished, we put Rawls into his jacket suit (kind of like super thick pajamas) we were trying to figure out what to do with his soiled clothing when the doctor suggested a plastic sleeve. To which he said, "Why not?" Also probably more funny to us because this is a very common phrase that almost every English-speaking Ukrainian uses. So out we went to catch a taxi, soiled clothes wrapped in a plastic sleeve and tucked away.
It took me a lot of scrubbing and washing my pants three times before I was able to get the stain out of my black dress pants--weird.

Arabian nights, like the Arabian days...

In as much as I would love for Rawly to only have eyes for me, he's met his first fling--a cute little German girl! She's three months his elder, but about the same size. Her motor skills are more refined than his, and she has two little teeth poking out--I think that's what did it for him. For her, it was his red hat--her dad sang "Rawly in red is dancing with me..." in his German accent. She's quite proactive too, during their first meeting she reached right out and grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go! On their second encounter he got up the nerves to touch her leg and she swatted him away like she was saying, "As if!" (At least that how the moms interpreted it.) Last night there was live music at dinner and the two of them looked like they really enjoyed dancing as their little squeals of delight filled the night air.It's been fun to see them interact (probably more so for us parents,) she's the first baby that he's touched or communicated with. When we get back we'll have to do a better job at fulfilling his social needs and finding him "play dates."

Skidamirinkadinkydink

Skidamirinkadoo, I love you! I love you in the morning and in the afternoon; I love you in the evening and underneath the moon. I love you! These are the words that you'd here if you were hanging with the Chapmans for any period of time over three hours. For a little over a month now Ken and I have been swaddling Rawly to sleep with a song and a wiggle thanks to the good doctor from “The Happiest Baby on the Block.” Some sleep philosophies might say that this is our crutch—but boy howdy how I enjoy it. There are two reasons: first, Rawly finally sleeps enough during regularly scheduled naps and at nighttime (he's slept through the night four times already and generally wakes just once around 12:30 for his nightcap.) The second is that I absolutely love putting him to sleep! It brings me so much satisfaction when I can bring a tired, fussy boy into sweet slumbering bliss in five to ten minutes (quite often less than that.) Watching Rawly sleep (or I'm sure any sleeping baby) is one of those eternal nows—those moments in life when you just want time to stay still and remain in the joy of the moment. Even during those times when it takes a little longer, he's extra tired and crying hard and loud, we remind ourselves that these times will be short lived. Soon he'll be climbing into his own bed and before we know it, I'm sure he'll be falling asleep in his dorm room or his first apartment. Oh how we cherish our little Rawls (when he's awake also)!
It's quite possible that all babies do this, but here are some things that Rawly is up to lately...He's always loved lights so walking around our lit up resort at night full of marvelous new wonders for the little guy. When he wakes up from a nap he arches his back, stretches his arms out above his head, and as soon as he makes eye contact, he grins from ear to ear. We recently received a big diaper changing (no roll away) foam pad, when we put him down for his change his arms and legs start pumping with uncontrollable glee. And if we move our face over his, blocking the bright light, Rawly's eyes pop open as he squeals with his toothless grin. Once he has on his clean diaper, we flip him over and play games, sing songs, or just talk and giggle back and forth. Also he has begun to gnaw on his fist and slobber all over the place--new toofers here we come! He loves his fist so much and sometimes chokes himself when he opens his fingers inside of his mouth, so that he starts this cute little cough. He's also started to stick out the tip of his tongue a lot when he's smiling, mouth full of bubbles. We have been blessed with such a mellow, laid back and happy baby!

Living in limbo

It's been a rough few weeks...after much debate, we (temporarily) moved into another apartment. As many of you know or have heard, our bathroom has issues. I'm not going to lie, I cried the first day we got here when I saw the bathrooms. Nothing was actually wrong with them, they were just a little different than I had pictured. Old tiles, 50's green (like an old Chevy wagon), then another green for patching broken ones, and a shotty job with larger, newer tiles on the floor that didn't quite make it to the wall on the back and one side and had piles of "gunk". It's no wonder that pictures of our apartment didn't include the bathroom. Over the past few months we've grown fond of our cozy little apartment, except for the hazard zone. Right before Rawly was born water started dripping from the pipes near the toilet. And that crevice between the floor and wall, well it would be wet in the morning and dry up during the day. There arose a damp icky smell that we tried to mask with candles. It became habitual to take a deep breath, run in, relieve yourself, wash your hands, and escape as quickly as possible. The pipe was fixed in December, but when we came back from Italy, it began leaking again. Then the hot water went out. At first we thought, well, they must be fixing the leak. But it never came on again.
A week they said. Fair enough, our bathroom was to be remodeled; tiles taken off the wall, bleached, moldy grout removed, etc. The way Ukrainian time goes, I figured on at least two weeks (it's kind of like the "manana" of Latin culture.) Week one passed; week two brought the news that if the hot water was fixed, then they would go ahead with renovations--as they "Europeanized" our bathroom. Apparently Europeanizing involves enclosing all visible water pipes--an added plus.
Then just this last Thursday we were told, "The guys are there to work, can you make sure everything is out and ready, now?" It was the middle of the day, and we had classes to teach, so I went over after school. The guys had begun and as an added bonus they were also tearing apart our shower bathroom! (Most Ukrainian apartments have a toilet room and a separate bathroom.) So it had been two weeks. Two weeks to begin, not finish! We'd moved clothes and food to the new apartment, back to the old one, then to the new one. Living between the two places has proved to be difficult. They taped off our bedrooms so that they don't get dusty, but the kitchen and living room are a different story as they've become the storing place for all of the tiles. We go on vacation next week and they are supposed to be done by the 26th--let's hope so! Then we'll be back to our home sweet Ukrainian home!!!

My silly quirks

I like numbers. Generally odd numbers; except for today’s date. Today is grandma’s birthday. I know that she has passed on, but it’s still a happy day in my heart. From the time I was a little girl, I’ve enjoyed the day. With Grandma living in California, I never actually spent the day with her. But, I remember seeing her charm bracelet when I was nine or ten and ever since then this day two days after Valentine’s Day has been special.

Speaking of the grandmotherly type…this morning on my way in, I was accosted by BG (Galina has a similar stature to my grandmother for those of you who loved her, you know what I mean.) Anyway, BG looked at me in that “tisk, tisk” sort of way and said, “You have to keep your breasts warm. What is this open jacket? And…wet hair? Ahh, where is your mother? She would get you right (as she swatted my backside.J)” I think that this must have something to do with another Ukrainian superstition that if a girl sits on concrete without a cotton barrier for warmth her ovaries will freeze. While I was pregnant I sat on cement steps, benches, water fountains just to prove my point—am I ornery or what?

That song, “Only in America!” keeps ringing through my head, but instead I sing, only the elderly—honestly who else could get away with that? Luckily, I find the whole situation quite humorous!

In my defense, we walk only 300 yards from our apartment to the school (some days Ken doesn’t even wear a coat, but I guess his milk isn’t going to freeze!) It’s just under freezing today, but our apartment is SOOO hot from the radiators, as is my classroom. So I enjoy the brisk jaunt. It makes me feel alive! Since my ovaries never froze, as far as I can tell, the milk will keep flowing whether or not I zip my jacket.