Glad that's over with

Exactly two years and three months ago, 3-day-old Dietrich's eye started to well over with tears, even when he wasn't crying. Since then, we've massaged his lacrimal tear duct once or twice a day, hoping that it would open up under the pressure of our fingers.

That didn't happen, so today Dietrich had himself a wee surgery to open the duct.

Oh my was I nervous -- more about the anesthesia than about the actual procedure. (Two little boys we love have recently had heart surgery, so we recognize not having to worry about the procedure as a blessing.)

We got there early, so we killed about 30 minutes watching Thomas and charming the nurses. I initialed the problem eye, and the nurse gave Dietrich a quick dose of a sedative. Within about 10 minutes, he was calm and drowsy. Time to say goodbye. We placed him in a cute red wagon, outfitted with a fluffy pillow and a heated blanket, told him we loved him, and headed out to the waiting room. Meanwhile, he got anesthetized and had rods of increasing sizes pushed down his tear duct.



We won't know for sure if the probing worked for six weeks or so, but the doctor felt confident that it had. "A textbook case," she said. In her after-surgery meeting with us, she accidentally referred to Dietrich as a girl, apologized, and then continued to refer to him as a girl about 10 more times. To avoid an embarrassing moment, I tried to refer to him only by gender-neutral terms, such as "kiddo" and "our little one." I was quite thankful that she didn't show such signs of absentmindedness before the procedure.

Next time we saw Dietrich, he was coming-to in the arms of a nurse. We cuddled in bed, I sang to him, and he slowly woke up. He seemed more perturbed by the vital-signs monitor wrapped around his big toe than by his eye. We were warned not to let him rub his eye, but he hasn't tried to do so yet. Way to be a model patient, Dietrich!

Important life lessons from dad

Overheard: "Dietrich, tonight I'm going to teach you how to eat a candy bar."

Regression

We trick-or-treated tonight. Dietrich, our little dinosaur, was totally into it. We thought we'd be lucky to get 30 minutes out of the little guy, but we stumbled home, exhausted, more than two hours after we left.

And that's when I regressed. When my brother and I were younger, we meticulously sorted our Halloween candy, dividing it up by type, counting, trading and otherwise commoditizing the free loot. Once I saw the big bowl of candy that Dietrich brought home, I couldn't help myself. I present, to you, our take (though I imagine only Sam will care).

9 mini hershey bars
1 full-size hershey bar
2 kit kats
7 nestle crunches
7 bags plain m & m’s
4 bags peanut m & m’s
2 three musketeers
4 baby ruths
8 butterfingers
6 reeses cups
2 bags skittles
1 milky way
1 take five
1 twix
1 heath bar
1 charleston chew
1 heath bar
1 almond joy
1 gummy body part (sadly, we can't tell which part)
3 jolly ranchers
2 sweettarts (but one was open and hence got tossed)
1 laffy taffy
1 starburst
1 box nerds
2 tootsie roll pops
1 box red raspberry dollars
1 bag runts
1 air head
1 disney high school musical milk chocolate flavored strawberry pop rockin’ candy

consumed on the road or shared with grandpa
1 tootsie roll pop
1 charleston chew
1 kit kat
1 tootsie roll
1 full-size bag m & m’s
1 box whoppers
1 butterfinger
(I think we showed great restraint.)

Anyone want to trade?

For those of you who aren't so interested in the various forms that our Halloween goodies took, here's a treat: Our little dinosaur. Or toucan, according to one mask-wearing celebrant.

As Dietrich would say: "Happy Ween!"

It's all relative

While we were in Southern California last week, we got to check out our next home -- a back house in the historic section of Whittier. The property is owned by a family at our church in La Mirada, and we are not, by any means, the first people we know to live there. We've been to at least three gatherings at the little cottage, and each time the renters have been a different couple from our church. It's young-family approved.

The first time I set foot in the cottage, five or so years ago, I instantly wanted to live in it. It's old (historic!) with interesting angles, groovy built-in cabinets and tall windows.

I also remember thinking that it was very small. But, now that we've spent about a month living in a trailer, a one-bedroom cottage seems spacious indeed.

I also had never noticed the washer/dryer, the rows of built-in drawers or the space out back for a garden.

Isn't it fun to see how the Lord provides? I'm enjoying it.

Missing Ukraine

Last night we went to a missions dinner at our home church in Southern California. The speaker, Rudi Wiens from Far East Broadcasting Company, spoke a lot about the organization's ministry in Russia.

I got rather homesick -- twice. The first moment of nostalgia hit when Rudi sang in Russian. That made sense; I've grown accustomed to the language and the tenor of Slavic music.

The second moment, however, was rather random. Rudi showed a picture. I imagine he chose it because of the foreground image: an elderly woman, warmly dressed in traditional clothing.

The picture affected me, however, because of the background. It showed a crowd of people strolling down the street. Two of them were walking side-by-side, each carrying one handle of a plaid plastic bag. We call these bags Poland bags. They're sold in the markets, but the tags inside say they're made in Poland. The are a frequent sight on public transportation in Kyiv, snuggled between people's legs on the subway, taking up narrow aisle space on the buses.

We have at least five of them. We use them all the time: To move, to carry boxes of cookies to the seminary for big events, to haul Thermoses of hot tea to church on communion Sundays.

At the moment, they're stuffed full of my clothes, Dietrich's toys, our cozy blankets ... all sitting in Dietrich's old room, waiting for our return.

Baba and Papa's house

Trying to keep track of where the Oldenburgs are? We are too. Physically, we are in Morgan Hill, California. We arrived a week ago today. We spent the week visiting with family and setting up our home -- a trailer on my parents' property. It's cozy, and I love it.

Emotionally, we are all over the map. Mostly we're OK, until some little thing happens that reminds us of Andrei. For instance, today I noticed that the local pumpkin patch was heavily stocked with lovely orange gourds -- and two-child families and pregnant ladies. You can read some of Eric's thoughts on our loss here.

We are so thankful for all the e-mails, cards, books and toys for Dietrich that people have sent to encourage us, console us and help us get settled back in America. It's still hard to grasp how much has changed in such a short time, but knowing that we, and Andrei, are loved is very helpful.

Goodbye sweet baby love

Sometime between 12:30 and 1 a.m. last night (that's 10:30 and 11 p.m. in California), we delivered Andrei Elijah Oldenburg. Though he was tiny, he will always possess a huge portion of our hearts. Thank you for your prayers; God answered every one of them in His mercy and love.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Just getting started

This morning at about 11 a.m., the doctors did what they do to start an induction here. It's a much less chemical process than when Dietrich's delivery was induced. (Though, obviously, that was also a very different situation.) About nine hours later, some light contractions began. At this point, they're frequent but weak, and the doctor on duty predicts delivery in the morning (a.k.a. nighttime in the States).

Eric is with me in case the delivery happens in the middle of the night. When I told the nurses that he planned to sleep here, and asked if he could have a cot, they said, "We've never had such a situation before. But we'll think of something." I hope I'm not being a demanding foreigner -- in-room husbands are so common in the States that I didn't think it would be an issue. The nurses were very kind about it, and Eric just got his own hospital bed wheeled into our room.

Actually, every time we've made an unusual request, the doctors/nurses have calmly listened to our reasoning, and then said "OK" with no argument, no talk of violating hospital policy, etc. It's very reassuring.

I know you've all been praying a lot, and we can tell. We have so much more peace than I could possibly have expected, and the whole process is going smoothly (though admittedly slowly). Please keep praying, for us and for Dietrich as he misses mom and dad.

Still waiting

Day three of waiting for the delivery is coming to a close. I just talked with the on-duty doctor, and he said they would wait at least until Tuesday to see if labor starts "naturally." (I think this means without Pitocin or some other drug that is stronger than the shots they are giving me.)

As hard as the delivery will be, the waiting is not so easy, either. If you're praying for us, could you please pray that labor would start on its own tomorrow? Also, perhaps this sounds strange, but I'm praying that the delivery will somehow be a beautiful experience. Only God could make it so.

Other notes from Room 407:

Dietrich came to visit again yesterday, and spent the whole time putting on my hospital-issue slippers and then jumping out of them.

Two friends brought movies, popcorn and good conversation with them last night, but they managed to keep their feet away from my slippers. One of them did take the hospital-issue capes home for her kids.

Two servings of buckwheat soup have arrived in my room, but thankfully I've been able to avoid actually consuming the dreaded grain.

There are moms with new babies recovering on our floor, and I find their cries bittersweet. I think this whole experience will lead me to treasure a newborn's cry in ways I couldn't have a few weeks ago. And, though the cries don't make me cry, seeing things like tiny bassinets being wheeled down the hall do strike an uncomfortable emotional chord. Oh how I hope I will be able to rejoice with other mommas when they welcome their new babies into the world.

Dispatch from the birthing clinic

The first day of waiting to deliver Baby O2 went well. We checked into the birthing clinic (deliveries don't take place in hospitals in Ukraine) early yesterday morning, and all the staff members have been lovely and kind.

When we explained that my medical records from the clinic where we had been doing our prenatal care listed my blood type incorrectly, I was very happy that the woman filling out my new medical chart immediately said, "I don't even want to see them. We will re-do all those tests." The nurse who drew the blood drained my entire arm. It all seemed very thorough.

After an examination and five shots, we were informed that they didn't expect the birth before Monday. I had four more shots this morning, and now we wait.

When we asked the doctor on Thursday what we needed to bring, he said, "Just your passport."

I forgot my passport. I did bring clothes, toiletries, a blow dryer, toothbrush, etc. I should have listened to the doctor. They provide all those things for you in your own private bath, which even has a bidet. I feel quite stylish in my cute little sundress-ish hospital gown. Eric has to wear a cape and blue plastic booties over his shoes. He feels like an idiot, but it makes me smile.

The facilities are lovely. My room is simple, but painted a calming yellow with very cheerful curtains. I get three meals and a snack every day, plus there's a cafe from which I can order food up to my room. Lunch yesterday -- chicken and rice, plus a bell pepper and tomato salad -- was the tastiest so far. This morning's breakfast -- meatballs made of some indistinguishable meat (possibly a meat-fish combo?); mashed potatoes; egg, cheese and mayo spread; and cottage cheese made from sour milk with sugar on top -- was a little rich for a girl who is content with a bowl of granola in the morning.

Eric can stay with me, though last night I felt comfortable being on my own, and it's helpful for Dietrich to have dad at home a bit. Eric brought Dietrich for a short visit last night, and I expect them again this morning. We neglected to ask about visiting hours, but no one objected when my loud 2-year-old showed up at 8:30 p.m. The round-trip journey takes about three hours, but thankfully Dietrich likes public transportation.

I should note that this clinic is nicer than typical Ukrainian clinics. When I called my doctor here to let her know the baby had died, she said, "OK, wait. I will call you back. It's not going to be easy, but let me see if I can make it easier than it could be." The next time we spoke, she said that this clinic had agreed to treat me. I do feel fortunate.

Pray for us, please

First and foremost, I want to apologize for delivering the following via blog. Blogs can be deeply personal, but this is the kind of personal that would really be better shared face-to-face.

Nine days ago, we learned that our baby had a 1-in-3 chance of being affected by Trisomy 18. After a few more tests, that chance was changed to 1-in-2. Furthermore, we decided not to do an amnio, so we did not expect to know whether the baby was healthy or not until the birth, which we expected in late January. We quickly began preparing to head back to the States to wait out the next four months.

Yesterday we went in for a final ultrasound here in Ukraine. That changed everything. Here is the note we sent out to our teammates:

"Thank you so much for praying for our family in the past week. It has been our privilege to nurture our second little boy for the past 20 weeks, and we are thankful for the time God gave us with him. Unfortunately, we found out this morning that the baby's sweet little heart has stopped beating. Starting tomorrow morning, we will be spending the next few days at Isida, where they will induce labor. Obviously, this is not a typical delivery, but we would appreciate your prayers for a safe, quick and as-peaceful-as-possible process. Pray also for our families as they will be mourning with us -- but far away from us."

We would certainly appreciate it if you would join those already praying.

This used to be our playground

Apartments in Kyiv lose hot water for two weeks in the summer. After four years, we're used to it. Our hot water was shut off in late July, and we eagerly looked forward to its return. Except that it didn't return. After three-plus weeks, it was nearly time for us to leave for SEND's annual conference, and we were still taking cold showers.

But it got worse. One day, all the trees were cut down around our playground. "Oh, that's a shame," I thought. "We'll have to use more sunscreen."

The next day, instead of a playground, we had a swimming-pool-size hole in the ground. A day later, our courtyard was dotted with five such holes.



Seems it was time to change the pipes, and unfortunately, those pipes ran right under our playground -- a place not only for Dietrich to play, but a place where I get the chance to chat with Ukrainian moms. We both learned a lot on that playground.

We went to the conference and to Poland, and got back to find the hot water on, but the holes still there. At first, word on the street was that they wouldn't replace the playground, but the latest news is that we're going to get a new, safer, plastic play structure. We had learned to play safely on the old playground, but it certainly wouldn't meet many safety standards.

So now we're enjoying the constant presence of construction equipment. Dietrich has learned to say truck and bulldozer, and frequently asks to stand at the window to watch said trucks and "bulldozers" do their thing. (Bulldozer is in quotes because, just after I taught Dietrich to say bulldozer, Eric informed me that the machine to which I was referring is actually an excavator. Probably not the first linguistic mistake I'll make as the mom of a boy.)

One day, while standing at the window watching, we saw the "bulldozer" driver arrive for work. He showed up in slacks and a shirt -- inappropriate attire for construction work. This is common. When we first moved here and had to have furniture assembled, the assembler usually showed up nicely dressed, and then changed into work clothes. But I'd rather forgotten about that step, so I was a little surprised when he stepped behind his vehicle and stripped down to his underpants. Our view (thankfully) was fairly well blocked by the machine, but lots of spying eyes in other apartments would have gotten an eyeful.

Nice to meet you

Hanging out with Dietrich at the moment is like always wearing a "Hello! My name is ... " nametag. If someone gets onto the elevator with us, he looks at them and introduces me. "Mama," he proclaims. "Mama!" At church, he introduces me to people who knew me before there was him. "Mama," he tells them, as if they didn't watch my belly swell as he grew week by week. At the dinner table, he introduces me to Eric. (And then he introduces Dada to me.) Soon, all of Kyiv will know that I'm Dietrich's mama. And that's just fine with me.

From Krakow , with love

We were at a SEND conference last week, just 30 minutes from the Polish border. At the last minute, just before leaving for that conference, we decided that we couldn't be so close to Poland without visiting Krakow. So, rather than come back with the rest of the SEND team, we headed west. It was a dicey decision, since Dietrich had been throwing up for the last two days of conference, but he seemed on the mend, and we decided that our family really needed some time away, together, even if it meant sitting in an apartment with a sick baby. At least it would be an apartment in Krakow.

By the time we arrived Monday night, D was all better. The train we wanted to take back was already sold out, so we were forced to stay another day. (Oh, what a shame, she says sarcastically.)

So, here we are. We spent the day at the zoo, where Dietrich got bit by a duck whom he was trying to befriend. Tonight, we will eat grilled meat and watch horse-drawn carriages and street performers. Last night, we saw fire-breathing dancers. The night before, we watched one guy on a break-dancing team spin on his head for a minute. Who knows who might bust a move tonight?

Turns out I am a luddite

Our Internet's back!

No explanation for why it didn't work automatically when I plugged my laptop in, but it turns out that I made matters worse on Tuesday when I put a period in the wrong place during my conversation with the help desk. I would feel really embarrassed about that misplaced little dot, but it took the two masters 45 minutes to figure it out, so I just feel a little bit embarrassed.

The cost of finding the misplaced period was $10, which we were supposed to pay at the bank. However, we didn't know we had to pay it within a day, so last night our Internet got shut off again. Thankfully, the bank was open today so we were able to pay up.

In other news: We had a lovely time celebrating Eric's 35th birthday on Thursday, and tonight the celebration continues with a Mexican food fiesta with two other couples. Off to cook!

I am not a luddite

A week ago today, my new laptop stopped turning on. I've been out of sorts ever since.

I was just days away from the deadline for two big projects that I work on several times a year for SEND, and I had to ask someone in the States to take them over, which made me feel like a big ol' slacker.

Thankfully, Mac opened several stores here in the past year, so they now have an authorized service center in Kyiv. The authorized service people replaced my keyboard. It's Russian now, which is actually rather convenient, since I don't need to see the letters to type in English, but I desperately need them to type in Russian.

I know this is a rather complainy post, but let me just say that I am SO IMMENSELY THRILLED that my computer works again, and I promise to soon make a backup of all the things I thought were lost forever.

Back to the complaints. Sadly, the authorized service people claimed that my warranty was only good for repairs done in the States. I'll be Skyping Apple about this matter ...

... just as soon as our Internet comes back on.

When my laptop came home, it no longer connected to the Internet. I spent 40 minutes on the phone with the Internet service guy this morning, but to no avail. He and I faced two language barriers: Russian/English and PC/Mac. The Russian/English one was way easier to overcome.

On Thursday, the Internet master (master is the word for a specialized repair person here) will be stopping by to take a look. Last time my Mac wouldn't connect to the Internet, it took three masters the better part of a day to figure it out.

I wish Thursday's master quick success. Dietrich watches Sesame Street via Internet. You try feeding him oatmeal with blueberries, but without Sesame Street!

Milestones

In the past week, Dietrich:

a) Ate a whole Happy Meal for the first time.

b) Got run over by a little red bike. Now every time he sees a kid on a bike, he says, "Bike. Uh-oh!"

c) Sat still for his third haircut.



d) Licked his way to the center of his first Tootsie Roll Pop — a gift from the lady from whom we buy our water. Somehow, the water lady has a whole stash of American candy that I've never seen sold in Ukraine. Dietrich thinks she has the best job ever, because from her kiosk she can see every car, truck, bus, motorcycle and tram that goes by.

e) Grew to love a new babysitter, Anna. Anna really bailed us out when our regular sitter's daughter got sick in the village (where they have a little house and grow veggies), so they couldn't return.

f) Took several three-hour naps. That Anna tires him out. Thanks, Anna!

g) Had a little girl hold his hand. But she was just trying to woo him into giving her his crocodile toy.

h) Only wet one pair of underpants today, and managed to put almost all his poop in the potty. This isn't consistent enough behavior to be considered a trend, but it's a nice break from the days when we go through every pair of underpants before naptime.

Things we're into these days

It seems I took a little break from blogging. We had guests for much of June, and then I threw a baby shower (in Russian!) for a friend, and evidently it's taken me a while to recover from all the entertaining and excitement. So, just to get back in the saddle, I present the following list.

Things we're into these days

1) Classic Sesame Street via YouTube. I'm trying to wean Dietrich off his addiction to the not-very-educational Muppet Show. But, oh the nostalgia! I nearly teared up at "I'm an aardvark" yesterday.

2) Fruit. On Sunday we quickly consumed the season's first watermelon, and I've been using up stuff in the freezer to make room for frozen strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and peaches. Here's to smoothies in November!

3) Dietrich's liberties with the English language. You say potato? Dietrich says podada.

4) Work. So much to do.

5) Late bedtimes. After-dinner strolls to take advantage of the warm summer nights have pushed Dietrich's bedtime back to about 10 p.m. He's a night owl, like his momma.

6) Playground vocabulary. I'm meeting with one of my old Russian teachers a couple of times a week to make sure that I'm saying things correctly when I talk with Dietrich on the street. When we initially studied Russian, I didn't realize how important phrases like, "Don't touch the dog/glass/poop" would become.

A favorite pastime ...

... on a hot day. Sitting on a large storage crate on the balcony and making a clothespin open and close.



With his teeth.

Well, buy them some peanuts and Cracker Jack

We love baseball. Oh my it's a wonderful game. We're midway through the Ken Burns documentary about our national pastime, and we're enjoying it. The documentary gives the impression that baseball was an even greater source of national unity in the past than it it now, though I'm sure there were people in the early part of last century who also claimed it was a boring game.

Soccer's the big game here in Ukraine, so Dietrich's not likely to learn baseball through cultural osmosis. We'll have to teach him, and mlb.com will help.

But I see signs that baseball might someday be not so foreign here. Around Christmas, we made a special outing to what we'd heard was the best toy store in Kyiv. We weren't impressed by the store (it's long and skinny, hard to navigate and too easy for little hands to grab all that interests them). But we did get one special gift for Dietrich. "Oh, a baseball," we exclaimed when we spotted the white ball with red stiching. "Dietrich must have it, no matter the cost!" (Thankfully, it was cheap.)

But last week we got Dietrich another soft baseball, and this one we found in a very ordinary toy kiosk above the supermarket a five-minute walk from our house.

Plus, on our way to the market one evening, we saw two kids playing some odd game in the courtyard of our building. Never expecting that they could be playing the game we love, we asked ourselves, "What is that? Cricket?" Nope, it was baseball. The rudimentary, pitch-at-your-buddy, no-one-to-field-a-hit version of baseball. Keep it up, kids, and in a few years, Dietrich can play outfield.

Taking a dip

Our washing machine is a front-loader that fits neatly under our kitchen counter. In our old apartment, we had a tall, skinny top-loader, but it wouldn't fit here, so we swapped with our landlord.

Dietrich has long known how to open the washer, and he loves to fill it up with stuff. Most of the time I notice this before I start a load of wash, but the other day we looked over to see this panda magnet going for a swim.



When it was just the panda, it was funny. But upon unloading the clothes, I found the pig, the cat, the dog and several other creatures also had taken a dip and, like the panda, were no longer recognizable.

You'd think I'd have learned after I washed the remote control ...

This week's Most Useful Discovery

Ukraine is not the land of the jumbopack. Though there are exceptions, even at our Costco-like store, Metro, many of the "bulk" items are actually several single items wrapped together. Five bags of oatmeal, four cartons of juice, seven packages of nutmeg ... you get the picture.

The first Sunday of every month, I prepare trays of tea and cookies that we carry around as people chat after church. I make the tea at home and pour it into Thermoses (from Metro, actually). Even hours after I make the tea, plus a walk to church, sometimes through the snow, the tea is scalding hot when I pour it. I love me those Thermoses.

But the cookies are another matter. At the grocery store, most of the cookies come in rather small packages — fine for a household, but pretty cumbersome when providing cookies for 40.

To get bulk cookies, you can go to the store or to the outdoor market and buy them from a cookie seller. I ask for a kilo or 500 grams of a particular cookie, and the seller whips out a thin plastic bag and dumps all the cookies in. I usually buy four kilos, which fills up all the space in the bottom of our stroller.

This is what I've been doing for years now, but I've never been very pleased with the results. First, inevitably, a lot of the cookies crumble. Second, there are lots of really pretty cookies here, topped with cream or elaborate designs, but I always decline to buy them, fearing that they wouldn't hold up to the beating they'd get in the plastic bag.

This past week, the visiting professor for the Talbot-Kyiv Extension gave a lecture on the problem of evil on Wednesday night. We had no idea how many people to expect, so I needed a lot of cookies. I went to the market, expecting to wind up with bags and bags of cookies, half of which would crumble on the way home.

But, what did I spy, but a guy. A guy with a van full of bright-yellow boxes of cookies! They were the same kind of boxes that the bulk cookie sellers get their cookies delivered in, only smaller. The cookies were nicely lined up, and the boxes protected them, even when I stacked seven boxes in the bottom of the stroller. I even bought some beautiful, pink-and-yellow-cream-topped minicakes, and even after the trip home and then to the seminary, they looked lovely and springy as they waited to be devoured. Plus these cookie boxes are wrapped in plastic, which means they'll keep overnight without getting stale, unlike cookies in a bag.

So, for now on, it's cookies in a box for me.

Bad day for the dollar

Last night at Kiev Theological Seminary, Talbot professor Dr. Doug Geivett presented a lecture on the problem as evil. Because this is such an important topic, especially in this society, we opened the event up to nonseminary folks, too.

Since some people would be seeing the seminary for the first time, we wanted them to feel warmly welcomed and well-fed. A friend and I were charged with supplying tables of coffee and yummy snacks, so I spent a good part of the day carrying bags of cookies, pretzels, fruit, serving dishes, candles, etc., over to the seminary.

The first time I went out, in the morning, the casino across the street was changing dollars into 4.63 hrivna. That's a pretty bad rate, much lower than the 5.05 that we were accustomed to until about a month ago.

The next time I went past the casino, the dollar had dropped to 4.50. At about 10 p.m., on the way back from the event, it was at 4.36.

I know the casino is just trying to capitalize on people who didn't manage to find a better rate earlier in the day, but who MUST GAMBLE NOW, but I still found it unsettling.

Most Interesting redux

So, last week I thought the fish jumping from the tank was kinda cool. Today, however, when we arrived at the grocery store, one fish was already flopping about on the tile. Soon after he was rescued, another one made a break for it. And it scared the cool right out of me. I shrieked a little bit. It was embarrassing. Now I think they need to put the lid back on the tank.

This week's Most Interesting Moment

I've blogged before about walking to the supermarket to check out the fish. This remains a favorite pastime for our little guy -- plus they've added a tank of crawdads.

In fact, we visited the fish this week, and as we were watching them, one jumped out of the tank (which is taller than me; the fish wranglers have to stand on a chair to scoop the fish out when someone buys one).

Poor fishie started flopping around on the floor just a few feet from us. We and another shopper explained the situation to the lady who was in charge of the fish counter that day. She finished up the transaction she was in the middle of, then calmly walked over and tossed the fish back in. He swam right away, so I guess the journey to the air-breathing world didn't hurt him. Dietrich, of course, found the whole incident utterly fascinating.

Annual visit to the Botanical Gardens

The lilacs are in bloom here, so we took a break recently to enjoy them, and to enjoy an excursion with our very pregnant friends Oksana and Zhenya. These pictures are all thanks to Zhenya's excellent eye. I'm thrilled to have such a lovely version of this iconic Kyiv image.



The gardens are pretty big, so I had never seen the plot of magnolia trees.



It rained earlier in the day, and the long worms crawling all over the sidewalk were a source of fascination. Dietrich insisted on calling them snakes.



We went to the gardens about the same time last year. Last year's baby is this year's big boy.

The week in work

Last week, I made a brochure, thus completing Step One in a fund-raising push for Kyiv Theological Seminary that should keep me occupied through December. The seminary has been offered a $450,000 matching grant, and we have until Dec. 31 to raise funds.

Meanwhile, I'm feeling rather out of my league.

I keep kicking myself for not paying more attention in the one public relations class that was required in my undergrad journalism program. I know a lot about presenting news. In a newspaper. Brochures? Letters to foundations? These are unfamiliar ground.

But exciting ground! I don't think I would have said that two weeks ago, before I started talking to people, gathering information, trying to gain a sense of where the seminary is and how it hopes to grow. At the beginning, I mostly just felt overwhelmed and frightened (my general responses when I try to lay all the responsibility on myself rather than focusing on doing my best for the Glory of God).

The seminary's story is a good one, and I'm going to get the chance this year to tell it in many different ways to many different people. I'm looking forward to the process.

Thank goodness for washable markers

Happy Easter!

Ukraine celebrated Easter on Sunday, so I got the delight of putting together Dietrich's first Easter basket. Displaying goodies is one of the things I really enjoy about being a momma. It's so fun to see his little face when something new and interesting shows up someplace unexpected.

We'll be home for Easter next year, so I didn't use a conventional Easter basket that we'd use again. Instead, I stuffed a hand-me-down wooden toolbox with superballs, a CD, a new book, sandbox toys and some sweets. Probably my favorite item was a handmade little item that I spotted in the outdoor market on Saturday — a knit chicken who sits on top of a chocolate egg.

Dietrich found the sweets first, so it was a little hard to get him to concentrate on the rest of the box. I was interested in his basket-unpacking technique. He was very methodical: Find an egg full of candy, take it to dad, wait for a candy, go back for another egg. Only once the eggs were done could he move on to the toys.



We celebrated the holiday with our friends Jon, Andrea and Joy, whose return to Kremenchuk was delayed first by a lack of tickets and then by a sick baby. We dined on pizza, since I hadn't planned on making a big meal just for the three of us. It was one of those Easters that I think we'll remember for a long time ... like the Thanksgiving when my Aunt Donna served lasagna. Although, I'm pretty sure that wasn't due to lack of preparation, just a love for Italian food.

We also celebrated our five-year anniversary this weekend, and we enjoyed a delightful dinner at our favorite restaurant, watching the fish jump in the lake and relaxing in the warm spring evening air.

Back-on-the-growth-chart baby

At Dietrich's 9-month immunizations, he was at 5 percent on the growth chart. I got a little nervous. Actually, I worried to the point that for about a month, it was all I could focus on. That was a bad month, a month I'd probably still be living in if it weren't for prayer.

After his 12-month immunizations, he wasn't on the growth chart at all. Thankfully, God and I had already dealt with the all-consuming worry, so while his weight was definitely something I thought about, it didn't take over our lives.

We found out yesterday that Dietrich's back to 10 percent on the chart. (And a little over 15 percent on the World Heath Organization chart, which averages breast-feed babies from all over the world, unlike the charts commonly used in the States, which only sample the US population.) And for that, I thank Dannon. Here, they sell an amazingly tasty yogurt called Dannissimo. Second ingredient: cream. For me, it would be dessert. For Dietrich: breakfast and morning snack.


No, Dietrich, don't eat the block. Eat the yogurt.

Repurposed

The last few weeks, briefly: Eric came home. (Yay!) He got sick. (Boo.) Dietrich got sick. (Boo.) Dietrich learned to say "uh-oh," mightily entertaining us by using it in quite random, non-uh-oh-appropriate contexts. (Yay! I mean, "uh-oh!") I got sick. (Boo.) I am sick. (Boo.)

But I finished Harvest Heartbeat before the sick set in. (Yay!) Most of the time, I only focus on the editing and design, but this time around, they asked me to write the Missionary Focus. I said that I'd try, but that our lives have taken on such a nice, ordinary routine that it might be hard to find anything interesting on which to focus. And from that observation sprang this article:

After four years of living in Ukraine, cultural differences rarely surprise us. We’ve found roles to fill at our church, and we’ve settled into a more-or-less normal work schedule.

Eric teaches theology and apologetics courses at Kyiv Theological Seminary and helps to administrate the new Talbot School of Theology — Kyiv Extension master’s degree program. It’s a busy, sometimes-stressful, often-fulfilling job. He writes and receives a lot of e-mails and goes to his fair share of meetings. There are parts of the job (working with students) that he loves. There are parts (see aforementioned e-mails and meetings) that aren’t as fun.

I work two mornings a week at the seminary, producing brochures and other public-relations materials. Our 18-month-old son stays home with a Russian-speaking babysitter. (We consider this his language school.) When I get home, we try to strike a balance between playtime and letting mommy do housework.

Our days feel routine. Husband works, wife works part-time but mostly stays home, baby demands attention. It’s a story that many of our friends in the States could tell.

But occasionally something will remind me that our lives are a bit different. Most recently, an e-mail titled “Fun info about your friends” landed in my in-box. You answer the questions and return the e-mail to the person who sent it to you, giving them insight into your life. Here are some of my answers:

1. What time did you get up this morning? 7:30 a.m. my time. 9:30 p.m. California time. I often think in two (or more!) time zones.

2. Diamonds or pearls? Many people we work with are struggling financially, so I don’t wear either.

3. What is your middle name? Amy. But Ukrainians don’t use a middle name. Instead, they use a patronymic — a form of their father’s name. I’ve had many conversations about why we gave our son — Dietrich Mark — two first names. In Russian, he’s Dietrich Ericovich.

4. What food do you dislike? Sardines, but I’ve learned to eat them with a smile.

5. What kind of car do you drive? Public transportation.

6. Furthest place you are sending this? North America.

7. Favorite saying? “Thanks for the bread and salt.” It means, “Thanks for the hospitality,” but the first time someone said it to me, I was quite confused. I’d served bread, but not salt.

8. What is your shoe size? 38

9. Any new and exciting news you would like to share with us? You can buy coconut milk, tortellini and peanut butter in Kyiv now!


The Oldenburgs: Eric, Josie and Dietrich Mark Ericovich

Missing dad

Eric left Monday night for a SEND leadership conference. He'll return Saturday afternoon. Three hours after he left, we had our first injury accident (a fall with a bitten lip, and lots of blood). Thankfully, that's been our only injury accident. So far.

Though we miss dad, this conference comes at just the right time for Dietrich and me. Eric and I were so busy during the Talbot session that Dietrich needed a week of extra love ... and since I don't cook or clean much when Eric's gone, I have lots of extra time to give the extra love.

But we do miss dad! Dietrich is in the habit of saying "mama" when he's nursing at night. He suckles a little, then he looks right at me and says "maMA." Music to my ears! I can't get enough of those two syllables. But tonight, the poor little guy looked right at me and said, "dada?" Soon, kiddo, soon.

Mea culpa

A while ago, I blogged about Hillary Clinton’s inability to say the new Russian president's name. To avoid being a hypocrite, I think I'm duty-bound to tell this story.

One of the guys who comes to our Friday night small group works at the U.S. Embassy. When President Bush is in town next week, he will speak at a very early morning reception for the embassy workers. (They have to get there at 6 a.m.!) Zhenya is very excited about the opportunity, and wants to arrive as early as possible to get a good seat.

I was asking Zhenya what else Bush is doing on this trip, and he said that Bush also plans to visit Romania, Croatia and Russia, to meet with the president.

Now, a Russian language lesson: Medvedev means "of the bears." It's the "ev" at the end that makes it "of the bears," and not just "a bear."

So, as you may have guessed, I unfortunately replied to Zhenya, "Oh, will he be meeting with Putin, or with a bear?" Zhenya nicely replied, "Maybe both."

Please tell me I'm not the only one

Talbot's two-week session here is under way, which means this is our busiest time of the semester. Last week, we had two guests in from Talbot West — Dr. Dirks, dean of Talbot, and Mike Brady, who works tirelessly to administrate the program from the California side. They were such wonderful and thoughtful guests! For example, Mike showed up to every meal with a new present for Dietrich. We really enjoyed our time with them ... but ...

While I love to welcome guests into our home, I think it makes me a little crazy. I get so, so nervous that I will accidentally food poison someone. Nearly every time we have guests, I ask Eric to smell SOMETHING to make sure it hasn't gone bad. On a normal day, I very rarely do this, but put another place-setting on the table, and all food becomes suspect.

This time was particularly bad. I made a huge pot of potato cream soup, but I let the bacon thaw on the radiator for two hours, so I got nervous about the bacon. I did a little research and determined that YES, the bacon certainly COULD have a hidden, non-smelly, non-slimy bacterial explosion that wouldn't be killed by vigorous boiling. So, I pulled chili out of the freezer instead.

Later in the week, I bought a rotisserie chicken, intending to make chicken pot pie. I stripped off the meat and put it in the fridge, only to freak out 30 minutes later when I opened the fridge and decided it smelled "too strongly" of chicken. We ran out, got another chicken, and enjoyed a yummy pot pie. I left the first chicken in the fridge. Curiously, by the next day, it smelled normal. Perhaps it un-spoiled?

I know the rule is supposed to be "when in doubt, throw it out," but when we have guests, I'm in a constant state of doubt! Am I alone in this? Any advice from you seasoned hostesses?

Don't feed the animals

I'm glad I'm not an animal at the Kyiv Zoo. Check out the yummy stuff they aren't allowed to eat:







No bread, cookies or ice cream? What's the point of existing? The funny/sad thing is that, despite the explicit ban on bread, people show up with whole bags of rolls to throw to the bison. I've never seen anyone toss in a cone, though.

American traditions

I'm a baseball fan, but I'm also a bit of a softie when it comes to public humiliation. So, when a pitcher has given up six runs in the first, there are no outs and the bases are still loaded, it breaks my heart to watch him struggle. "Yank him," I think. "Put him out of his misery."

That's basically how I felt watching the Ohio Clinton-Obama debate on YouTube today. I'm sure Clinton is a smart woman, but I winced over and over as she misspoke, made humorless attempts at humor, whined about how the moderators were treating her, and failed to produce the name of the next Russian president. I pitied her, and I really doubt that Hilary Clinton wants my pity.

From a billboard on our street for a men's magazine

Ego: It's the masculine way of life.

Take it to the bank

This morning, I went to the bank to pay our bills. The 20th is the due date for most bills, so usually I encounter long, long lines. But today, I walked in to the bank just after it opened at 9 a.m., and no one was working at the bill-paying counter. I went outside to wait for Eric, who was around the corner picking up our Internet bill from the Internet company.

A few people walked into the bank so, worried about the line I thought was forming, I went in, too. Still no one was at the counter, but I walked up to it anyway.

After a few moments, the bank teller appeared and said, "I don't have any change, so you can only pay if you have exact change."

Well, I was about 80 cents off, but I thought that was a small price to pay to avoid the line I would have faced later in the day, so I told her to go ahead. After a few minutes, Eric came in with the other bill, and after she added that one in, we were able to rustle up enough small bills between the two of us to overpay by only 10 cents. What a deal!

A message for Aunt Jit

(He drew the squiggles himself.)

Some things fishy

Perhaps Dietrich's first word was "bo-ehll" because of his love of fish. Who live, of course, in a bowl. Alas, last night, three of our four grown-up guppies died. One baby was born, but he/she and his/her mamma aren't looking too lively. The other two babies were in a different bowl and seem healthy. I don't know what killed them, but I cleaned the bowl and we shall see how things look tomorrow morning.

But, even if we lose all the guppies, Dietrich will still have fish in his life. The little guy doesn't know it, but he's in training -- one of my goals is to have him walking really well on the street by the time another Baby O enters our life. (No, that's not an announcement.) I'd like to be able to push baby in the stroller while Dietrich and I walk to the grocery store down the street. On my own, it's about a 5-minute walk. With Dietrich, hmmmm ... 30 minutes? An hour? It depends on how many birds walk by and must be chased, how many buses drive past and must be pointed at, how many stairs he notices and must beg to climb.

Anyhow, the finish line for which we aim is Dietrich's Aquarium, also known as the fish tank at the grocery store. From my perspective, it's a sad sight: Way too many fish crammed into too small a space. (Though one day there were tiny crabs in there, and that was pretty cool.) But crustaceans or not, Dietrich LOVES it, runs full-force toward the tank, and makes fun "oooooo" sounds of delight. The other day, he was so happy that he turned right around and tried to hug a 6-ish-year-old girl who also had her nose pressed up against the tank. Dietrich just wanted to share the fishy love, but she was having none of it.

D's big week

Two significant events in our little bug's life this week. First, on Wednesday night, he said his first grown-up word. For a while now he's been saying syllabic baby words that are recognizable, but aren't quite all the way there pronunciation-wise. (Da-da, du for duck, ni-ni for night-night.) He makes some awesome animal sounds. And now, he says "bowl." That's right, Dietrich's first word is bowl, a word we rarely use and have never tried to teach him. (Unlike mama. "Dietrich can you say mamamamamama?")

The scene: Eric was making him vitamin-fortified baby pudding (baby cereal made with 6 percent milk and vanilla sugar -- try it, it's yummy) while I was giving my testimony at small group. He said, "Ok, now I'm going to put the pudding in your bowl," and Dietrich repeated "bowl." Except it was more like, "bo-ehlll." Again and again he said it while Eric cheered and swung him around the kitchen. The next morning, he woke up yelling, "Da! Da! Bo-ehll!" Yesterday I put a bowl on the counter and he demanded, "Bo-ehll!" He's totally fluent in bowl.

So, that's the happy news. On Saturday, however, we had our first emergency-room visit with Dietrich. He slipped, hit his chin on a plastic stacking block, and required two stitches. I think the most traumatic part was trying to figure out whether to go to the doctor. I'd never thought through which wound attributes require a trip to the clinic. Anyway, this one wasn't too bloody, but it was wide and only got wider when Dietrich, you know, moved. At all. And I didn't think I could keep him perfectly still for the next week while it healed, so off we went. We are thankful for our friends here who served as advice nurse and ambulance service so we didn't have to take public transportation. And the doctor was calm and unflappable, despite Dietrich's screams, which were audible down the hall in the waiting room. And that was after the anesthesia. But it was worth it, because when we took the Spiderman band-aide off last night, the wound already looked so much better. We'll go back Thursday or Friday to get the stitches out.

As a side note, I'm so glad we didn't have to do an emergency-room visit before we knew Russian. It was so convenient to be able to talk to the doctor fairly freely ... although we did have one funny moment near the end when we thought he was telling US to take the stitches out on Friday.

Provision

We know that we only live in Kyiv thanks to the financial sacrifices of others. But this weekend brought extra blessings. First, on Saturday, a family that's moving back to the States gave us lots of lovely, warm winter clothes and boots for Dietrich. They're size 5T, so we're thankful for the extra storage space in our new apartment. And, for me, for the FUTURE, they passed along several pairs of maternity pants.

On Sunday, Eric preached at a village church. A family from our church in Kyiv has a dacha in the village, and there they grow fruit and veggies. Eric brought home 20 pounds of potatoes and beets, plus a huge jar of homemade grape juice. What bounty! My favorite part is the smell. It's the scent of earth: rich, fertile, fresh earth. Our whole kitchen smells like a sunny day in the garden.

Seeking wise counsel

Some dear friends sent us an Amazon gift card for Christmas. I rather enjoy possessing (and not spending) a gift card for a while. It's nice to know that, if I have a day when I really need a treat, I can order one up for free. Eric is not like me. That card is burning a big-time hole in the pocket of his Roebucks. (Him: "Um, when do you think that gift card expires?" Me: "NEVER.")

I won't be able to put off buying something with it much longer. Eric already knows exactly what he'll purchase with his half. I want to get some music for Dietrich. And that's where I'm stuck. So, if you have kids, grandkids, or any level of knowledge about music for children, would you please leave a recommendation? I'm easy; I just want something that will delight Dietrich without making me go out of my gourd. Thanks!

Me 'n my Mac

It's been a long month, workwise. Last year, it became apparent that I needed a laptop if I was going to keep working at the seminary. For months, Eric had been letting me use his computer several mornings a week, but that was starting to get in the way of his ability to work efficiently. We asked several people to carry a Macbook over for me, but none were able. So, I decided to send it using Meest two-week air shipping.

Meest is an amazing shipping company that somehow manages to get boxes full of valuables through customs without the recipient needing to pay. Boxes shipped via Meest consistently arrive, on time, with everything still in them. I love me the Meest.

But, in this case, my computer got stuck in customs. So, while it was supposed to arrive the second week of December, it showed up the second week of January. But it showed up! And I didn't have to pay! However, I had hoped to spend the quiet holidays figuring out the new operating system, setting up the computer, transferring everything from my old computer, and working on a brochure for the Talbot program that needs to be done on the new computer because of its updated software. Instead, I spent the holiday doing useful things like sorting through the thousands of pictures on the Kyiv Theological Seminary server and making a file of the best of them for future use. It was a good thing to do, but not a pressing need.

While my new Mac is far from contributing efficiently to my life, it's in good enough shape that yesterday I was able to deliver a general KTS brochure to the printer. And just in the nick of time, because they hope to give out copies at an exhibition next week.

Sadly, I'm not really enjoying the Macbook yet. It has a ton of cool features, and I'd love to spend days playing around with it. Before Dietrich, I would have. But trying to figure everything out in the 15-minute chunks (the approximate length of time that Dietrich will play on his own before he's back in my arms, or wrapped around my leg) that currently mark the passage of my days has not been nearly as fun.

Do I sound cranky? I am a little cranky. But I bet in a month, I'll be best friends with my new Mac and she and I will look back on this post and reminisce about a time before we really knew each other.

Too bad I don't have a camera phone ...

... for today I saw two sights that would have illustrated the cold, cold, cold that we're experiencing.

First: You can buy a liter of milk packaged in plastic bags here. On our path to church today, someone had dropped a bag of milk, and it burst. But the milk froze so quickly that it formed a fairly compact, ameoba-shaped puddle.

Second: When you go into a store in Ukraine, you have to check your bags. Today, at the bag-check counter at the new grocery store across the street from our house, I noticed a row of 15 forlorn-looking single gloves waiting for their owners to come back and collect them.

It really 'tis better to give

A highlight of my 15 months as a mom was last night, when we set Dietrich's presents (four guppies, a shape-sorting bench, two puzzles, colored pencils and a lion-shaped chair) under the tree. I couldn't wait for this morning, when he'd come in and see them there, waiting to delight him.



We had a late start to our mellow day, sleeping in late because we'd gone for a walk around midnight to watch the fireworks. As we woke up, made coffee and started putting together brunch, my anticipation just grew. And his reaction didn't disappoint. Here he is with Alex the lion and just reveling in the joy of new toys and lots of time spent together as a family.