No Pushing Here

So I've had several well-intentioned people advise me not to push Keahi so hard once they've heard that he can read already. When I insist that I'm not making Keahi do anything and that he loves to learn, they give me this sideways glance and half-smile that makes me want to continue to defend myself. But I know there's nothing I can say to change their minds that I'm a nazi mother who crams learning into my poor fun-deprived kid. Part of me knows it doesn't matter what they think but another part of me resents that they don't believe me. So I let it drop. It doesn't help that Keahi won't read to his teachers at GAP. He tells me that nobody does that. But then at home I have to drag him away from his books to make him play outside. While I still can't upload pics or vids to provide evidence on my behalf, I can relate a little conversation I had with Keahi yesterday.

When Keahi and I get Jarom from his afternoon nap we spend some time in his room playing together. Keahi loves this time--swooping through the curtains and crashing cars with his brother. Yesterday after about 5 minutes he said, "Mommy, may I have a short play time today so I can do my writing activity before dinner?" So we looked at the clock and I said after 10 more minutes we could go out to the table to do a writing activity.

And this is not an unusual occurance. He hates to have his online calendar and reading activities interrupted even for fun things like playgroup or pool days and he always remembers what story he was on. Is it my fault he likes to read and learn stuff? I swear I'm not the one pushing him to read chapter books, learn state capitals, or obsess about whale sharks. Now I expect to recieve sideways glances through the ether. But that's okay. I'm proud of my kid and that's that.

Happy Birthday Daddy

So I've given up on picasa and decided to post unedited pics so everyone can see our raw photo quality. I apologize in advance.

So Israel's birthday couldn't have come at a better time. He had just finished up 2 major exams on Monday and was burnt out and in need of some serious R & R. I let hims leep in till 8 o'clock (hey, that's a big deal when compared to the usual 6:30) and the kids actually cooperated by being quiet through breakfast. After carting Keahi off to GAP for the day, I brought back chocolate milk and doughnuts for the birthday boy. I do love Nick's Doughnuts--definitely one of the highlights of Grenada. We also got smoothies during the hottest part of the day and had a mostly relaxing lunch at Da Big Fish. Eating out with only one kid is definitely superior to eating out with two. Jarom's roamings and his fascination with a worker's pair of shoes sitting by the counter just added zest to the meal.

Then while I prepared dinner, Keahi helped make a birthday crown for daddy which ended up looking a lot like an archbishop's hat. At first, he insisted that everyone wears a crown on someone's birthday but then conceded that daddy would feel more special with a crown just for him. Dinner went well and I discovered that won ton wrappers do make good ravioli pasta. A simple italian style cake rounded off the meal.

But of course that wasn't enough dessert for us. So after the kids were in bed and Cameron so generously came over, we headed out for some Ben and Jerry on the beach. The stars were bright and the waves soothing. A good day. But I think Iz's favorite part may have been the rare afternoon nap.

Helo?

BOY MEETS GIRL
So this was going to be a quote of the day but I thought it deserved more attention. We have this friend named Mario Redhead who's 15, a local kid in our branch. He comes over to visit, play with the kids, do his homework, and play around on the computer.

You know how young kids are supposed to have some sort of natural afinity to all things technological? This skipped over Mario. He told me that my husband had helped him create his own website and I thought wow, didn't know Iz could do that. And it only took 10 minutes. Then I discovered he meant he now has a hotmail account. And each time he comes over and wants to check it, he needs help getting to the website to sign in. He repeatedly tries to enter his email account into the address bar. Silly boy.

So this last time he came over to get help with his art homework: what is a pattern, how can you create patterns, choose a pattern to make wrapping paper. Wacky homework. Afterwards he went to check his email. Apparently there's a girl he's sweet on and he wanted to email her to get the romance going.

How does a teenage boy get the attention of a pretty girl? Flowers? A poem? Or, heck, even a phone call? For Mario it's an email to say, "helo." No how ya doing, do you want to hang out or anything like that. Just "helo." And he didn't want to leave his name. Apparently he wants to woo her by sending a creepy, misspelled, one-word message anonymously. Though how he hopes to stay anonymous when his email address is marioredhead is anybody's guess.

A Crisis of Whose-Line-is-it-Anyway Proportions

So for some reason our picasa isn't working right now so I haven't been able to load any new pics from our camera. Hence, the delayed birthday post. And now I've realized that my blogs are really glorified picture albums and without my pics I've got nothing to say. So much for my almost 29 years of speaking the English language and a BA in the same. I guess I'm still scarred from that A- in Communications 101. So anyhow, until my picasa is up and running you'll have to make do with my semi-coherent ramblings. I thought since we'll be leaving Grenada in a month I might make a list of the things I'll miss (and not miss) about this lovely island.


Things I'll Miss:


-Ting (a grapefruit soda similar to Squirt with more natural flavor)

-GAP (that's Grand Anse Playgroup and not the store--who can beat daycare from 7:30 (as if I'd ever be out of the house that early) to 1pm for the low low cost of 5EC--that's less than $2)

-ugli fruit--heck even the name is fun

-the branch (especially the children and the Cummings family and all the awesome sisters)

-kids running up to me to ask if I'm "Chinee"

-Girls' night out (but, hey, maybe back home we'll have more date nights instead)

-full grown men wearing rasta colored jelly shoes (rasta colors are everywhere so why not shoes--I guess that would be like everyone back home wearing stars and stripes sandals like my mom) (I feel like I'm back in the 80s every time I see jelly shoes)

-Iz says he'll miss seeing creepy, old, surprisingly muscular men with no shirts and crazy eyes, packin machetes on the side of the road.

-the reggae busses (to read their window signs, not riding in them--for a cool post with pics see the Johnston's blog)

-shaking my fist at "Dirty Red" each time it passes by (that's the reggae bus that rearended Iz and never finished paying for the damages)

-Nick Donuts, the plain glazed mostly. Nice!

THINGS I WON'T MISS

-the unsolicited parental advice from total strangers--old ladies to teenage kids (including how to hold a baby's head, how to teach Jarom how to walk as if we never figured that out with Keahi, and one woman asking me if my crying baby was spoiled)

-people knocking then walking into my house before I'm ready (with Keahi loudly asking why mommy is putting on clothes)

-Salt Fish, and the smell that permeates everything in every corner of the supermarket.

-crazy drivers who stop suddenly in the middle of a turnabout to chat with a friend, park on the side of a cement truck that's already blocking traffic so they can wash the cement that flicked on their car--causing one-way traffic that has to climb onto the curb to go around, and who yell or make a fuss anytime an American driver so much as pulls over to pick someone up

-having a landlady living in the same house (from now on I want my own space--no landlords on the premises, no duplexes, triplexes or anything)

-laundry scheduling dependant on the mercurial weather

-humidity (I thought tropical was tropical but boy was I wrong)

Grenadian Anecdotes

So our awesome friend, Sara Weir had an idea to have everyone part of the I'm-surviving-Grenada club write about something bad that's happened to us with one twist: make it funny. I thought to myself: wow, how much fun to take the things that drive us nuts and make it humorous for ourselves and for others. Sometimes we need a change of perspective to find joy in the things that happen to us--kinda like how it's funny or cute when someone else's kid does something crazy or naughty but when it's ours it makes steam come out our ears. Anyway, only a couple of people have written theirs, but I thought it'd be fun to post them on my blog. So here's mine. While I could have written about all the unwanted parental adivce from the locals who consider not beating your child spoiling them or the island-style (on serious steroids) driving, I chose a topic less constantly annoying but more acutely horrifying.

Cailin-1; Monsters-0

Okay, did you know that monsters are real? We assure our kids every night that the shadows hide nothing more sinister than the dust bunnies we can’t seem to contain. But two days ago I discovered that we are all liars and fearsome, evil beasts do exist.


And they live in my laundry room.

The morning started out pretty normal, which is to say way too early. I dragged my eyes open and fidgeted while trying to get comfortable enough to drift back to sleep. But something kept nagging at me. Aw crap, I left the load of whites in the washer last night. I had gone to check on it after my bath and it wasn’t quite done. Then I got caught up doing incredibly vital and urgent something-or-others on the web and totally forgot to recheck it. Now it had sat wet and dank overnight. Worse, the stupid electrical switch had been on all night. That’s gonna cost a bundle. So, I, overflowing with joy and goodwill, rolled off the bed and slouched my way out into the cool—oh, wait, this is Grenada so make that muggy—pre-dawn and up the stairs to the laundry room. After pulling out a towel for inspection, I happily concluded that the bleach had staved off mold and decided to hang them up instead of rewashing them. I yanked out the offending towels to drape over my shoulder, muttering to myself about silly addictive websites and why or why can’t we have a dryer. Next step, hanging up the garments in proper order. I know I’m oddly anal about the weirdest things but I have to put up the garments in a certain way. So I rummaged through the washer looking for Iz’s tops first and began clipping them to the line briskly and efficiently. I fastened one sleeve up and reached for the other side when OH MY—insert appropriate mental expletive here—a grotesque, demonic creature slithers up the shirt heading straight for the hand clutching the sleeve.

Move over kraken. Hit the road Cerberus. ‘Cause monsters of the deep and giant, three-headed dogs guarding the underworld have nothing on this fiend.

With black-shelled spine outlined in poison red and hundreds upon thousands of talon-like legs, I hardly think centipede accurately sums up the terror and revulsion these things inspire. Certainly the scientific name is equally uninspiring: scolopendromorpha, are you kidding. Maybe deathstrider. Or creepy-crawly-harbinger-of-the-apocalypse. I dunno, something like that. Anyway, this monster is at least 8 inches of slithery yuckiness. I swear I could hear the tiny legs clicking as it sped toward my hand.

I, brave warrior that I am, don’t even shriek or shout for Iz to rescue me. I kind of gulp compulsively and fling the shirt on the table. I pause for maybe 3 seconds—or about 100 heartbeats—and watch to see where it went, weight on the balls of my feet, ready to spring into action. Meaning rush down the stairs to the relative safety of the house. But I breathe a sigh of temporary relief when the thing scurries into a dark corner. Gingerly, I reach out to shake the shirt to look for any companions before continuing to hang up the clothes. Each time I reach into the washer I cringe, eyes darting everywhere looking for signs of another intruder. Though none appears, it still takes me twice as long to finish my task. After the last one is hung neatly in line, I finally uncurl my toes (why I think that will protect me, who knows) and head out, feeling like the bravest soul around.

Now I can strut my stuff, chest puffed out because I am like a triumphant knight returning from battle. Except instead of slaying a dragon, I didn’t run away screaming from a bug.

Eat your hearts out GAP

So Tammy sent me this link to the GAP modeling contest and told me to enter my kids. I thought about it and it seemed like one of those things that sounds sorta fun but I'd never do. Then after a few weeks I finally got around to taking some pictures of the kids with actual clothes on--which was difficult to do by myself with nobody to stand behind me with something for them to look/laugh at and also because Keahi is at that age when pictures mean funny faces not natural smiles.

Then I discovered that the contest had ended.

I can now check back in a few weeks to vote for my favorite model. Which will be none because I'm a bitter showmom.

Anyway, I thought I'd share some of the pics with the world because who am I to keep my beautiful kids a secret. So you tell me, am I just a blind, overfond parent, or are these two of the most adorable boys around?

Halloween in Grenada

So this was our first Halloween in Grenada and I'll call it a success. The morning rain made me fear the worse but it cleared up and the kids were able to go trick-or-treating on campus. Some of the departments cheerfully got into the holiday spirit and decorated their offices and provided sweet treats for the little monsters. Of course, some places had no need for decorations what with the permanent displays of skeletons. And some places provided tricks as well in the form of being listed as Halloween stops without actually preparing anything for the kids. But that's Grenada and what's Halloween without any tricks.

The 2 boys were supposed to be samurais but Keahi looked more like a sushi chef than anything else. Oh well, the helmets and sword turned out pretty well. And all his friends looked great. Dyson must have been hot in his Mr. Incredible outfit but his little brother Ridgeton looked quite comfy dressed up as Jarom (some people thought he looked like Jarom with his hair pulled up but I think it was his lack of clothing that reminded them of Jarom).

We got loads of candy--of which Keahi will only get a few--and we brought some much needed Americanized holiday cheer to the school.