On stage at sadik

After working hard on his Ukrainian poem, Dietrich caught a cold on the day of this year's holiday show at sadik. You might recall that we missed last year's show after a chicken-pox quarantine led to it being rescheduled for a day when we were out of town. I, sadly, thought he'd better skip it again this year, and Dietrich was cool with that. Until I let him try on his costume.

All of a sudden, he had to be on stage.

So, I came up with a plan. We'd go, but we'd wait in the hallway until his part. He'd pop in, say his lines, do his dance, and we would head home. 

His teacher would not hear of it. After thanking us copiously for coming, she insisted that I "let the kid have his holiday." The coughing wouldn't bother a soul, she promised.

So, on with the show it was.

Dietrich was dressed as Buratino -- the Russian version of Pinocchio. To get him into character, we watched the movie one afternoon. Dietrich didn't like it. Good thing he liked the costume.

Since it was the kind of day when things didn't go as planned, I only managed to get about half of his poem on video. My favorite part is watching his classroom helper, Sveta, cheer him on in the background. She has such an encouraging spirit and a sense of humor about childhood foibles.


Buratino from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

After the hour-long show, which started 90 minutes late, another hour was spent playing little games and waiting for Grandfather Frost to arrive.

Needless to say,  Dietrich was drained. He opted out of the group photo, stumbled home and practically fell asleep eating his celebratory pizza.

For the grandparents, here he is saying the whole poem at home, before the show sucked every last ounce of energy out of him.


MVI 7065 from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Translation:
Greetings, children --
girls and boys.
You've known me a long time.
You've seen me in the movies.

I have a lot of friends.
You know them, too.
Artemon, Pierrot, Malvina,
And my name? Buratino! 

Next year, it will be Lev's turn to put on a holiday show at sadik. Crazy. 

Scenes from the kitchen windowsill

p.s. Look who's wearing big boy underpants!
p.s.s. Merry Christmas!

What's really important

Lev got off to a slow start with speaking, which makes his every word all the more thrilling to my ears. He's surprisingly adept at noticing emotions and attitudes. It's rather humbling to have your 2-year-old comment on your "stinky at-ti-tude," but sometimes he's right. My attitude does stink.  And he says it so sweetly that the stink lessens.

This weekend, for the first time, he was able to tell us that he felt scared. And then Dietrich came over and kindly helped him through the scary situation. (It involved climbing over some mesh on a play structure.) I will hold on to that moment for years to come. 

But it's not all "let's talk about how we're feeling" all the time over here. We're passing along other important life lessons, too.

Lev knows Star Wars from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Brothers

All about Lev

My little Lev is turning into quite the joker.

Joke number 1: About a month ago, Lev started calling everything and everyone "bad guy." I know, when you read that in black-and-white, it sounds a little frightening, but Lev is so sweet-spirited in every other way, and he says "bad guy" with such an impish smile, that it's clearly a joke.

The new fountain by our house? Decorated with water-spitting bad guys.

Bad guys. That he build HIMSELF.

Plastic letters? Bad guys. Mama and Daddy? Bad guys. The contenders in the presidential debates? Bad guys. Lev himself?

Bad guy.
 
Joke number 2: "What do you want to drink, Lev? Milk or juice?"

"Ooce!"

As soon as I start pouring the "ooce:" "Milk, milk, milk!"

Joke number 3: Lev sits down on a bus bench. There's a boy sitting next to him. Lev looks over and say, "Boy!"

"Yes, that's right," I reply.

Lev proceeds to point at the boy's very feminine mother and proclaims: "Boy!"

"Nope, she's a girl," I say.

"No! Boy! Boy! Boy," he replies giggling.

Sometimes I luck out, and people don't understand the not-really-appropriate things that my kids say. For instance, the helper in Dietrich's former class didn't speak any English, which was good, as he was prone to say, "I don't like her," when she walked by.

Alas, the boy's mom spoke English. But, thankfully, she giggled, too. 

For the boys

Eric and I are going to be away at a conference for a week, and I'm feeling a bit, um, emotional about leaving my munchkins. They are in good -- no, make that excellent -- hands, but still. I miss them already, and I don't leave for another 24 hours.

I've tried to funnel some of that emotional energy into things that, I hope, will help them realize I'm thinking of them, even if I'm not present with them. I've made playdough. I've packed up little goodie bags. I've constructed a count-down-the-days chain, with a note from me on each day.

And, I made these videos. Each night, I'll sing and read to the boys from the comfort of Miss Lois' laptop. Do you need a bedtime story and a lullaby? If so, watch on!

reading from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.


singing from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Celebrating autumn

Dietrich started his last year of Ukrainian preschool/kindergarten on September 3, and by September 21, the whole school already had prepared a 90-minute show.



As I understood it, some Important Officials were stopping by for a visit, so this show was a Big Deal. As in, we couldn't skate by wearing slacks and a Ukrainian shirt. We had to go rent the whole traditional costume. But the air was a bit chilly on the day of the show, so they had Dietrich wear his old-school cassette-tape sweatshirt over his costume, which rather negated the effect.

We also had to bring nature-themed decorations. Our flower-petal butterfly and glittery pinecone tree were unlike anything anyone else brought, but they still looked pretty. One kid made a dragon out of acorns, with maple-leaf wings. It was rad, and if we ever have to make another nature-themed decoration, we will shamelessly copy that idea.

Evidently, the Important Officials arrived early, because the show started about an hour before its scheduled time. I made it just in time to watch Dietrich's class do its dance to Generous Autumn. 



I also got to meet the little girl who had Dietrich all starry-eyed. Here they are knocking on watermelons together.

And he held her hand all the way back to the classroom.

 

Young love, 'tis a fickle creature. Here it is, one month later, and he never even mentions her! 

Scenes from the shower room

Our water gets shut off quite a bit. Any time anyone who lives in our part of the building needs to fix something in their bathroom, everyone's water gets shut off. For at least two weeks in the summer, the hot water is shut off so that the city can work on the pipes. And it seems like lots of other little problems crop up that result in no water, or just cold water, or just hot water. We're always pretty happy to have the water come back, even though this is what it looks like for the first five minutes or so.   

I'm not griping, by the way. I am completely thankful that 99 (98? 97?) percent of the time we have both hot and cold running water. After all, I have boys to bathe.

I gave the boys their first bubble bath about a week ago. Lev doesn't say a lot, but now he does say bubble bath. Insistently. Every night. I've created a bubble monster.

A tale of two cakes

Preschool and kindergarten are combined in the Ukrainian school system, with kids having the same teacher, classroom and classmates from the time they start preschool until the time they move on to primary school.

But Dietrich was the second-youngest in his class last year, and he missed the cutoff for primary school by two days. We're thankful that he gets one more year in a less-formal setting to practice his Ukrainian, but it means that he joined a class that has been together for the past three years.  He's not entirely alone in this; about six other kids from his old class also are taking another year of kindergarten.

The new class is big. Thirty-seven kids. One teacher. One helper. They've asked anyone who can to pick up their child after lunch, because there aren't enough beds for naptime. (Dietrich stopped napping three years ago, so I've been picking him up around lunchtime since he started school, and I'm thrilled that it's now officially sanctioned. I'm no longer a weird-o, at least when it comes to pick-up time.) The teacher has warned us that she won't be sending home homework unless it's specifically requested, and she won't be hanging up artwork because it would take too long.

She also strongly suggested that we abandon candy and juice boxes for birthdays, and bring cake instead.

In my family of origin, birthdays mean chocolate. My mom has been making the same rich, moist chocolate cake for as long as I can remember. When Eric and I started to get serious, she passed the recipe along to me in a little book called "My Keepsake Recipes." Our wedding cake? White on the outside, mom's chocolate cake on the inside.

However, in Dietrich's new class, no chocolate allowed! Too many parents don't allow their kids to eat chocolate, the teacher explained.

So, Dietrich ended up with two cakes, one to suit his classmates' tastes, and one to suit my tastes.

Ukrainians often comment on how sweet we Americans like our desserts, so I knew I needed something with a bit less sugar. And Ukrainians are excellent at cooking with whatever currently is in season. In September, raspberries are plentiful. So, I made a blueberry muffin recipe, substituted raspberries and poured the batter into a cake pan.

It turned out UGLY. Cracked and crumbly. So, in an effort to cover up the cracks, I added the "6."

Also, remember? Thirty-seven kids! This cake would serve about 12 kids, so I also sent cupcakes. (Or, as we would call them, muffins. And then we would eat one for breakfast.)

And just for comparison's sake, here is the chocolate cake.

Which would you rather eat?

In December, we got a tree

Influenced by the lack of evergreen trees for sale until sometime after December 20, our family Christmas looks a little like this:


On December 24, we pick out our tree and carry it home.


Lev was absolutely delighted that we got to bring a tree inside.


On December 25, stuffed stockings appear on the cabinets.


Showing off the nativity set while we wait to open stockings. It seems the Baby Jesus didn't make it to His own party.


We took the Lego plunge this year. Except, it's more like a Lego dip so far. D loves them, but I'm not quite ready to have all those small pieces floating around.


Lev was so cute peering into his stocking, though we never did get a great picture.


We also decorate our tree. This photo is a total lie. We couldn't actually lift D high enough to get the star on the top, so Eric did it later. Don't trust everything you read on the Internet.


Immediately before a family photo with the tree.


First shot at a photo -- complete with a nose-bound finger.


Ah, that's better.

Our tradition also includes a big "breakfast" -- this year, it wasn't consumed until after well after church, but it still tasted like breakfast. I switched things up and tried the Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls. We were not disappointed. Well, actually, we were deeply disappointed when they were all gone.

Eventually, when Dietrich is in the primary grades, he will need to go to school on December 25, but we hope to be able to fit these three activities in around the school day.

In December, we celebrated Advent

We've been doing Advent for a couple of years now, and in the past, there have been a lot of things in our Advent calendar. Not expensive presents, but still, a steady supply of new things.

This year, we (meaning the grownups in the family) wanted to transition away from the acquisition of things, and focus more on cheerful-spirit-inducing family activities and the story of Jesus' birth. So, it was a transition year of sorts, and as such, was a little bit hard for Dietrich. (Lev, blank slate that he is, had no expectations.)

There was exactly one wrapped present in the Advent calendar, and it came from grandma. Over and over I warned Dietrich that it wasn't something to play with, but he just couldn't quite trust me until he opened it and found:


A tie.

BUT. We did do so many fun things together as a family. A long, late-night stroll to look for Christmas lights. Movie nights. Cookie baking. Secret shopping trips to buy presents to make other people happy. Lots of stories about Jesus' birth.

Looking back, one of the things I appreciate most about the holiday season is how intentional we are to schedule time together. It's something we could work on the other 11 months of the year.

AND. When it was all said and done, I think we all enjoyed ourselves. After Christmas, Dietrich had a friend over, and he asked what the Advent calendar was. Dietrich proudly replied, "It's to help us think about Jesus' birthday, and I got to do lots of special activities with my family."

In December, we went to the circus

Once in a great while, I leave our immediate community and go to a busier part of town. On these occasional trips, I often spot an advertisement for something fun that's coming to Kyiv. While Eric was at Director's Council, I took the boys to the playground at a recently renovated McDonald's, and out the window, I spotted a billboard for Cirque du Soleil. I instantly decided to make that my special December date with Dietrich, a decision confirmed when I checked the ticket prices and found them to be extremely reasonable for such a show.

So, off to Saltimbanco we went.


Waiting for the metro.

Alas, we both were disappointed in the show. I found it inconsistent, with the amazing acrobatic bits heavily padded by wildly boring bits. The staging, on the other hand, was consistently chaotic.

Dietrich found it consistently boring. Being 5, he's in the midst of discovering all the amazing things his body can do, and he remains unaware of the limitations of gravity and physics. So, after an amazing acrobatic feat, he'd say, "I could do that."

And he really, truly believed that, given the chance, he could.

See, mom? I can do it.


Calling daddy to report on how boring the show was.

We left after about two hours, and the show was still going strong. The coat-check lady (the same one who wouldn't let me check Dietrich's coat, for fear he'd be cold) assured me that many other people with kids had already left.

The highlights?


Spending time together.


And the caramel corn.

In November, Dietrich learned his short vowel sounds

Will I ever see Dietrich reading and not feel a little shocked at how grown-up he's getting?

Quack, quack from josie oldenburg on Vimeo.

Probably not.

In November, we said goodbye

Eric took over as area director for SEND Ukraine in June, but our former area director and his wife stuck around until December 1. We were so thankful to have Steve and Nancy here to help ease the transition! So many details of the job lived in Steve's brain, and Eric spent a lot of time learning from him.

Right before Steve and Nancy left, our team threw them a good-bye "extravaganza." At a big party, I'm always thankful if there's an activity that I can focus on during any awkward moments of feeling lonely despite the crowd. Clearly I was involved in planning this shindig, for it included TWO such diversions!

First, people could write good-bye messages, which I later compiled into a Snapfish album for Steve and Nancy.




And here's one from Lev's nanya. Isn't she lovely? The sweetest personality goes with that sweet face.


And guests could peruse the decorations: About 75 photos drawn from Steve and Nancy's decade in Ukraine.


Some were silly ...


... and some were sweet. (Can you name that baby?)


There was an open sharing time when people told touching stories about how Steve and Nancy had influenced their lives. This resulted in lots of hugging.




Bertha made and decorated this beauty of a cake. The verse is Revelation 7:9-10. I can't decide if it's more impressive that she wrote it in Russian or in frosting.



Eric hosted the program ...


... and protected his cake from Zhenya's attacks.


We all gathered around to send them on their way smothered in prayer.


On the day they actually flew out, Steve and Nancy made time to join us for lunch at McDonald's. (I cannot fathom being so on top of things that I have time to meet for lunch with someone before an international flight, much less an international move.)

We asked Dietrich to take a group shot. This one's good.


But this one's 5-year-old fantastic.


Bye, Steve and Nancy. We missed you before you even left, and we miss you even more now.