International man of misery

It’s been a long week. Dietrich cut his first tooth Monday and his second Tuesday. Poor little thing is in pain. Plus, it’s about 90 degrees outside and Dietrich’s been running a fever all week. Poor little thing is hot. Hot + pain = hard to play, hard to eat, hard to sleep.


The offending teeth.

I’m not un-cranky either: The city turned off our hot water Tuesday (it will be off for two weeks), and yesterday we were entirely without water for most of the day. I put away Dietrich’s winter clothes, did some other organizing and went grocery shopping, but there’s not much a hazayeeka (homemaker, though the literal translation is female owner, boss or master) can do around her abode without any water. Plus I have one of those irritating, sporadic corner-of-the-eye twitches, and I keep waking up with a slightly swollen left eye.

Tomorrow is KTS graduation, and then it will be next week. Yay!

Today I'm enjoying

These tiny little mush pots, which hold two tablespoons of Dietrich's puree.

A nice place to eat

This post is mostly for my mom. (Hi mom!) I described Dietrich's new high chair to her over the phone, but a picture will make its cuteness all the more evident. It's the perfect addition to our kitchen. Meanwhile, Dietrich shows off his apricot mustache.

Flower mother

Eric and Dietrich made my first Mother's Day as a mom with an out-of-womb child a great one. An unexpected two-hour members' meeting at church meant we got a late start on the celebrating, but the quality made up for the smaller quantity.

Eric came home from church laden with gifts: A bib that says "I love mummy" from a British children's clothing chain, cards from D and E and 13 beautiful roses. (Even numbers of flowers are considered bad luck here, hence the 13 stems.)


My pretty present.

Then we headed off to Kyiv's botanical gardens to check out the lilacs. Three years in this city, and we'd never seen them. That was a waste of three possible lilac-viewing years! We clearly picked the right weekend, because it seemed like the whole city was there to enjoy the view. Hope these pictures help you enjoy the view, too, and if you want to see the real thing, come visit in mid-May!


The view from the top of the lilac grove, which we walked through.


Out on a limb.


Lovely lilacs and laddies.

We can't guarantee that you'll get to see the highlight of the day, though: As we walked through the lilac grove, we heard traditional Ukrainian music — good music. It had rhythm; you could dance to it. We finally found the source: A group of elderly Ukrainians, clearly all friends, had gathered to sing. Not to perform (though they certainly did draw a lot of attention), but just to hang out and sing. One man played the accordion, a lady added rhythm with her tambourine. Gold teeth flashing, they traded off singing the verses, joined together on the choruses and occasionally burst into a waltz. It was fantastic.


Dancing along to the Ukrainian tunes.

Thanks, moms, for contributing to the cycle of life that produced me, Eric and now D. We love you!

More beets, please

'Crawl' connotes ...

Exploring under momma's desk.

When I started this blog, I intended to use it as a place to share fascinating cultural insights. Instead, I share fascinating (to me) stories about my baby. Sigh. I suppose I’ll have to find contentment in this anecdote, which combines the two:

Ukrainians have been asking me for quite a long time now whether Dietrich can crawl. I’ve been saying “no.” If I feel more expansive, I say, “He crawls like a snake, but not like a baby.” In other words, he gets around on his belly, but not on his hands and knees.

Last week, I had a Ukrainian mom friend over for tea and a baby vocabulary lesson. (It’s not, “I fed him potatoes.” It’s, “I gave him potatoes.” But when we nurse, I “fed him with the chest.”) As we talked, Dietrich slithered around the room. I asked Nastya, “How do you say what he’s doing right now?” She said, “Crawling.”

So now, when Ukrainians ask me if Dietrich can crawl, I can say yes! And I could have said yes for about a month now. Glad I have that figured out.

And just in time, because yesterday on the elevator, a neighbor asked me if he could walk yet …

Trying to spring

The long, dreary gray days of winter make spring all the more lovely. This spring is an odd duck, however. Periodic rainstorms during spring? Normal. Periodic snow? Strange. As I walked back from the market two afternoons ago, the wind blew lots of little white things onto me: Half were petals from the blossoming trees, the other half were snowflakes.

Speaking of the market … in season right now: Daffodils (yay) and radishes (boo). But radishes (double boo) mean that strawberries are just around the corner. Yay!


Less of this ...


... and more of this.

This week we finally decided to get tough on Dietrich’s sleep habits. For a couple of months now, he’s been mostly sleeping with us. It’s sweet, but not something we want him to need, especially as he gets increasingly mobile. I have horrible fears of being woken by the thunk of my baby crawling off the bed.

So, this week he’s learning how to sleep in his crib again. I was fearful of this time because this kid’s strong and loud, and I was pretty sure he was capable of crying for three or four hours if we didn’t bring him into mom and dad’s big bed. But I was wrong. He’s doing an awesome job! He shed quite a few angry tears the first night, but only for about 40 minutes, and since then he’s been a peach. (Mmmm … peaches … also soon to be in season.)

I’m so proud of my bug!