Christmas in Ukraine

Ukrainians, in general, celebrate Christmas on January 7, with the rest of the Orthodox world. December 25 is referred to as "Catholic Christmas" here. Further confusing things, our church celebrated on December 24, so last night we were free to celebrate with Oksana, Zhenya and Toddler Nikita (we used to call him Baby Nikita, but he's grown).

Oksana always makes delicious meals, and I always mean to take pictures so that I can blog about them. Last night, I actually remembered to do so!


We started off our meal with kutya. Soup-like in consistency, it was made of wheat berries, walnuts, poppy seeds and honey.


Then we had zrazi: mashed potatoes stuffed with meat or cabbage, fried and served with sour cream. These were so good, and I got to take some home for lunch today!


This salad, called vinigret, was the discovery of the night for me. Potatoes, carrots, onion, beets, peas and pickles, chopped tiny and flavored beautifully. I was in taste-bud heaven.


We finished off the meal with cheesecake topped with poppy seeds and walnuts. Drinks were also homemade: uzvar, a juice made from dried apples and pears, and kissel, a sauce-like concoction made with cranberries and thickened with starch. You can read more about the traditional Ukrainian Christmas Eve meal in the New York Times this week.


A festive feast! And feast we did -- Eric was too full for breakfast today, even after burning off some calories in a snowball fight on the way home.

Pregnant in Ukraine

Before we get started, a disclaimer: I've never gone through a whole pregnancy in America. So, while I intend to share ways in which it seems to me that my pregnancy here is different from what I'd expect in the States, I could be totally wrong. Please, correct me if I am. Also, the following post is best not read by highly modest folks.

First, births in Ukraine take place in a roddom -- literally a birthing home. Roddoms are not part of hospital complexes. We plan to have the baby (which, by the way, is kicking hard enough that I feel it every day now) at a fancy birthing home called Isida.

Isida is lovely and professional -- and about two hours away from our house by public transportation. And the doctors like to see their patients frequently. At week 17, my doctor started asking me to come in every two weeks. In addition to meeting with the prenatal doctor, so far I've gone in for:

1) an EKG
2) a meeting with a general doctor
3) an ultrasound of my stomach, kidneys and thyroid. (The ultrasound tech asked me if anyone had ever told me about the growth on my thyroid. I had to tell him no one had ever looked at my thyroid before.)
4) multiple blood tests. Nine tubes at one time!

Plus, the day before every prenatal visit, I have to get to the clinic before 11 a.m. to hand over a, um, (insert throat-clearing sound) sample. The sample must be collected at home, so, as my sample and I are getting pushed around on the metro, I appreciate the protective nature of Ziploc bags. And this sample is not just tested for protein; these tests are far more extensive. My white blood cells have never had so much attention shown them, and they're starting to get a bit big-headed about it.


At my second visit, the swine flu was sweeping Ukraine, so my doctor suggested I not take public transportation or go to the grocery store. Right, like that's possible. So, instead, I wear a mask on the metro. At the beginning of flu season, I fit right in. Now I'm the dork with the mask on.

At this point, you might be thinking, well, clearly they insist on all this testing and the frequent visits to make extra money. Which may be true, but we've already paid for all our prenatal care AND the birth, and the combined total is about 75 percent less than Dietrich's birth and three months of prenatal care in the States. And we didn't even use a coupon!

When you buy the birthing package at Isida, you sign a contract about which we had a few hesitations due to statements like the following:

The PATIENT is obliged to fulfill planned visits to the doctor in charge, to fulfill diligently all his assignments and recommendations.

If the PATIENT consults some other specialists she is to follow their recommendations only after the confirmation and approval of the doctor in charge of the HOSPITAL.

Basically, do everything we say and don't get a second opinion.

On the plus side, the birthing package includes six ultrasounds! At this point (week 19), we've done three. This made the last ultrasound, in which our modest baby refused to show us his/her boy/girl parts, much less disappointing, as we will have another chance in three weeks.

Benni who?

My favorite car in our neighborhood: The Chana ... Benni.

Ewww

Normally, I'm not one to bemoan living in an apartment. But today I spent 20 uncomfortable minutes crouched over the tub, scraping dog poop out of the ridges of Dietrich's extremely nonslip fall boots with a toothpick. And then I bleached the life out of the bathtub. Oh my, what I would have given for a backyard and a hose during that very disgusting 40 minutes of my day.

My hands

If you were to look at my hands right now (or at any time during a Kyiv fall/winter), you might think I played a starring role in "Fight Club." The combination of Kyiv water plus cold weather leads to hands so dry that my knuckles crack open and bleed when I bend my fingers. It's uncomfortable. And gross. Lotion helps -- for a minute or two. At night, I sleep with my hands coated in petroleum jelly and encased with gloves. That keeps the open-wound count down around five.

The other day, Dietrich wanted to cuddle at naptime, but my ever-expanding belly felt extra awkward when I tried to get all smooshed up next to him. So, I suggested we hold hands. He grabbed my hand, exclaimed, "It's crunchy!" -- and refused to touch me again.

Sigh. I guess I'll go put some lotion on.

Thankful

Due May 25, 2010.

Whew, glad THAT secret's out!

Quarantined

We’re in Week 3 of Swine Flu quarantine here. All schools and universities are closed, and public gatherings of more than 30 are supposedly banned.

Since Dietrich’s not in school and Eric wasn’t scheduled to teach during the cancelled seminary session, we Oldenburgs haven’t been much affected. In fact, Dietrich likes the quarantine — it means his nanya’s charming 7-year-old daughter comes with her mama to play with him.

The seminary remains open to faculty and staff, so we still can work. However, the construction workers have used this opportunity to shut off the electricity all day today, so I’m working (secretly) from home. (Don’t tell Dietrich; I’m hiding out in our bedroom.)

Since I’m at home, I have access to the tangle of cords needed for various tasks, such as downloading pictures. Here, then, is what we did during quarantine (and a few days before).


Trying to stay warm in front of our “fireplace” before the government turned the heat on. We’re comfy cozy now.



Off to watch the Angels play the Yankees at a friend’s house. The friend’s connection speed far surpasses ours. We can only listen to the games. That was fine, until they moved Rex Hudler to the radio.


When Dietrich got invited to the local Christian school’s Harvest Festival at the last minute, we threw together the world’s quickest costume. He loved it. Wish I could have spiked his hair, but it was cold and he wore a beanie.


Perfect chilly morning breakfast: Oatmeal with bananas and maple syrup, black tea with sugar and milk.


Where’s Waldo?



Bye, Daddy! Have fun in Belarus!



Dietrich built this track. We had no idea he could do that! The thought actually crossed our minds that perhaps someone snuck in and helped him. Somehow that was less freaky than the thought of him suddenly acquiring track-building abilities.


Oksana and Zhenya had us over for their birthdays, and she made this charming cake. As the cake was being cut, I made the mistake of saying, “Oh, poor turtle.” Now Dietrich asks me every day what was wrong with the turtle at Oksana’s party.