Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 17

With Dietrich back at sadik in the morning, I looked at my schedule for the rest of the month and realized I had no SEND projects to work on until the last week of January. What perfect timing, as my list of Oldenburg family projects had been growing steadily for months.

So, my primary goal for the week was to get that chaotic spare room in order. This required sorting through (among other items) baby clothes. This required tears, nostalgia, premature thoughts about future family plans ... no wonder I've been avoiding this task!

Actually, emotions aside, I found it much easier to make decisions about what to keep and what to toss now that I've clothed two infants. Though I didn't realize it back then, with Dietrich, I had all the time in the world. Who cared if sweet little sleepers buttoned up the back? Or if shoes required several minutes of gentle nudging to coax them onto wee baby feet?

Lev lives in zip-em-up, one-piece jammies. Occasionally, if we have guests, he wears pants. He's a hard baby to put pants on because:

a) His brother was/is skinny, so when I sorted through baby things four years ago, I gave away all the pants that didn't fit Dietrich. Oops.

b) At nearly 8 months, Lev's 24 pounds -- average weight for a 16-month-old. I joke that we're going to start a clothing line for husky babies. Our signature onesie will read, "Lift with your legs."

c) I've compounded the big-baby issue by using cloth diapers with doubled inserts. These add a couple of inches to Lev's already generous rump. (Which, by the way, is the cutest rump ever.)

I figure, if we do have another child, I won't have any more time to clothe him or her. So, awkwardly placed buttons? GONE! A bit small in the neck for a big baby head? GONE.

In the end, I filled two huge boxes with unnecessary items (baby and otherwise), and now I will wait until Spring to hand the boxes over to a local church that has a rummage sale twice a year. I'd rather get rid of it all now, but there's no Goodwill here. The other giveaway option is to leave usable items by the dumpster. I've done this in the past, but I always feel like someone will know that it's me, the odd American, ditching these things. It feels overly public, I suppose.

Well, you probably didn't really care to read quite so much about my spare room and my chubby baby. Too bad! Because I feel I must update you on Lev's eating habits. First, look at this picture:



Doesn't that look like a kid who's happy in his high chair, eager for a yummy pureed meal?

Well, this is how feeding Lev has actually gone:



After an initial happy taste of squash, Lev has refused to eat. No more squash. No zucchini. No pears. No apples. He is totally disinterested.

So I've given up. For now. I could force feed him, of course. He's big, but I'm still bigger. But that's just upsetting for everyone -- especially, it turns out, for Dietrich.

Every once in a while, I plop him in the chair and try to give him a little taste of something, but as soon as he starts shrieking, we're done. And that's usually before he's swallowed a spoonful. I tried teeny-tiny pieces of banana, too. He enjoyed smooshing them, but nary a morsel got near his mouth.


Lev has no use for his high chair, unless it's helping him stand. He really wants to master this skill, and he refuses to bend his knees when I try to sit him on the floor.

I suppose this is the benefit of having a big baby. I'm fairly certain he's getting enough mama milk, so I don't feel pressured to supplement with anything else. It's also the benefit of having a calm baby. Lev hardly ever shrieks, so when he does, I know he's really, truly communicating unhappiness -- not just general crankiness.

I do hope that this approach works. Our approach with Dietrich certainly did not work. We still could have daily battles over food, though we do try not to let mealtimes degenerate into conflict anymore. I talk with Dietrich a lot about how Jesus wants peace in our house, and fighting over every.single.bite of anything that isn't pizza or a waffle or a tangerine doesn't really contribute to that goal.

While we're on the topic of food, on Thursday night, we welcomed Dr. Doug Hayward and Lois Thorpe for dinner. Dr. Hayward is the director for Biola's Ph.D. and Master of Intercultural Studies programs, and these programs have an extension that meets at Kyiv Theological Seminary. (The extension differs from the program that Eric helps run in that it's primarily for ex-pats, not Ukrainians.) Dr. Hayward was a missionary for 20 years in Indonesia, and he's got some great stories to tell. It was a fun night, and it fueled my desire to learn how to explore other cultures more thoroughly. If only I could barter dinners for tuition.

Thursday also was my dad's birthday (hooray), so I called and we had a nice chat.

The next night, he called me to let me know that his dad had died.

My Grandpa Si was gregarious, confident in his strengths, honest about his weaknesses and prone to ask difficult questions. He did not shy away from an argument. He spoke his mind. He was quick to give an opinion, even quick to disagree, but he remained unwavering in his love and support for his family and the countless number of people he called friends. He taught by example, showing how to be generous by giving freely, showing how to have an authentic relationship with God by openly discussing his doubts and excitedly sharing his insights, showing how to build a strong marriage by devotedly serving his wife in every circumstance (including many difficult ones). Though my grandparents weren't famous, theirs was one of the world's great love stories, and I am blessed to have witnessed their life together.

I think the deaths of my grandparents will remain rather unreal to me until our next visit to California. They didn't live far from my parents, and we sometimes would drive up and spend a hour or so listening to old stories or arguing theology with my grandpa (until the discussion got too heated and grandma put an end to it).

The last time I saw my grandpa was in the hospital, just before we returned from Home Service. He'd just had a stroke, and he was awake and uncomfortable and unwilling to eat (though he would drink grape soda). I don't know the name of the ward he was in, but it was extremely unprivate -- a collection of mostly open rooms built around a central nurse's station. He looked funny; I realized later that he didn't have his teeth in. I prayed for him.

He never got fully better, but he did return home, to my grandma. After decades of taking care of her, he always said that he wanted her to die first. He didn't want to leave her alone with no one to care for her. He was willing to accept the sorrow of living without her. Does that sound morbid? It wasn't. It was somehow sweet. It was love.

Most of the things that cause death are brutal. They are dark and difficult to endure. I'd rather not think about them, and yet, I do. So I appreciate that my grandparents were willing to talk about death, but always in light of their relationship with God.



With my grandparents in August 2009, just days before he ended up in the hospital.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 16

Long ago, when we were young and childless, Eric and I visited the main square in downtown Kyiv around New Year’s. We strolled and people-watched and marveled at the big Christmas (New Year’s) tree. It was lovely.

This year, we figured Dietrich was old enough to enjoy the experience, too. So, we loaded the family onto the metro and headed downtown on Monday, Dietrich’s first day of winter vacation.

We took this picture …



… but this shot really sums up the day:



The boys ate at McDonald’s, and I had birdseed balls and a tangerine. That was good! And then the barista sneezed into my hot chocolate. And all our coats somehow got dropped on the filthy food-court floor. And Dietrich was wearing the wrong clothes to go on the ice slide. And the square was chaotic, stuffed with Grandfather Frosts, Tiggers and assorted other costumed creatures offering to pose for a picture (for a fee). And the beautiful Christmas tree had been replaced by one plastered with a chocolate company’s lavender logo. And people-watching held NO interest for the 4-year-old. And he didn’t like his ice cream. And, on the way home, I lost his hat.

Some days are like that, even in Ukraine.

On the plus side, an elderly lady gave Dietrich an acorn, and that simple act of generosity still makes him happy when he thinks of it.

Winter vacation: Day 2 was much better. We loaded the family onto the marshrutka and journeyed 90 minutes to a city outside of Kyiv, where our closest Ukrainian friends just moved. Lev no longer detests public transport, Dietrich got to go downhill sledding for the first time, and I left feeling more content about Oksana and Zhenya’s move. Their new apartment is quite nice, and I am happy for them, as they were without a home for several months, and had looked at some real dives here in Kyiv.

Trees grow right outside their second-story windows; in spring and summer, I think it will feel like living in a treehouse – a delightful little nest for their growing family.

This visit did a lot to temper my sadness about having Oksana move so far away. For great stretches of the past few years, I spent more time with her than anyone else (Eric, Dietrich and Lev excluded). Countless challenging situations have been made far easier because she was there to help. In many ways, she taught me how to live here. She is a beloved friend, and I will miss seeing her so frequently, but it gives me peace to be able to visualize her in her new nest.

Friday morning found us in church, celebrating Jesus’ birthday again. For the first time, I tried to add some activities to the rest of the day to make it as special as December 25. After church, Dietrich helped me make a birthday cake for Jesus; oddly enough, Jesus' birthday cake ended up being MY favorite cake.



That night, we had friends over, and we all sang Happy Birthday and read Jesus’ birth story. It was a good first attempt at expanding the holiday season for the kids, I think.

That day, Dietrich made a Great Leap Forward. He drew actual stick people, rather than faces with arms and legs sticking out of them. And, as happens with every Great Leap Forward, I felt proud and sad and determined to make a more concentrated effort to enjoy him now, before he grows up and goes away to college. (Speaking of which, we’ve been watching a lot of “Toy Story 3” around these parts, and I’m not sure it’s good for my mental stability.)



Daddy only worked two days all week, so he was able to do lots of fun stuff, like build this sweet spiderweb.



And Sunday, Dietrich and I left Lev and Daddy at home and spent hours looking for a new hat, scarf and mittens. We got a sweet hat/scarf combo, but the mittens we finally settled on are the pits. They seemed warm and water-repellent in the store, but they actually attract moisture and currently are sitting in a pile at sadik, sopping wet and probably growing a fungus.

During that shopping excursion, Dietrich made another Great Leap Forward. I gave him a choice: Eat French fries now, or buy a Kinder Egg and wait to eat it at home. First, he considerately asked me whether I really wanted French fries. When I assured him that it was entirely his choice, he chose the Kinder Egg. Despite the delayed-gratification factor. And, as happens with every Great Leap Forward …

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 15

Western Christmas marks the start of our holiday season, so the celebration continued on Monday with our team Christmas shindig. Everyone gathered for hors d'oeuvres and desserts, real presents for the kids and a White Elephant exchange for the grown-ups. (As you'll recall from my previous post, I am now a grown-up.)

The kids and I arrived late, because Dietrich (unexpectedly) had sadik and dance class in the week following December 25.

Earlier in the month, I had asked Dietrich's teacher when vacation started. "December 27," she replied.

So, on December 24, while picking up Dietrich, I wished his teacher the traditional blessings for the New Year. She replied with, "Why isn't Dietrich coming to sadik next week?"

Um ... because you said vacation started next week?

"Right, but vacation is only for school. We work through December 30."

I cannot imagine why she thought I needed to know the primary-school schedule, but I admit I appreciated a few bonus quiet mornings, especially since Eric was taking advantage of the quieter-than-normal seminary to get some work done.

So, late to the party we were, but we sent Eric (who was emceeing) ahead with a heavy load of gift bags, appetizers (bird-seed balls), cookies (see below) and slippers (so that Dietrich and I didn't have to wear our snow boots the whole time).



Last year, we did a candy exchange for the kids, but Dietrich gets so much candy at this time of year that, in April, we still had an untouched (and stale) jar sitting around.

So this year, we opted for a sticker exchange. We made two piles -- one for boys and one for girls. The boys went first, and every single boy chose the very stickers that his mom had picked -- even though they didn't know who had brought which package. It was uncanny.

In the White Elephant exchange, I got a large piece of intricately embroidered cloth that I consider absolutely gorgeous. I cannot believe anyone would give it away! I'm planning to buy a piece of plywood, pin it to the plywood, put it on a photo ledge and call it art.

Tuesday was party number 2 -- this time, a gathering of women connected to Kyiv Theological Seminary. It was planned and run by a team of Ukrainian ladies, which meant it was both a party and a chance to learn more about Ukrainian culture. We all sat at a long table laden with sweets and fruit, and there was plenty of time to talk, but they also interspersed games and songs at just the right intervals. We were supposed to bring sweets for the table; I opted for birdseed balls -- they're appetizers for Americans, desserts for Ukrainians. (The No. 1 comment I've gotten from Ukrainians when I've made typical American desserts is that they're too sweet.)

Tuesday night, we left Lev (for the first time) and Dietrich with Becca, the teenage babysitter who aged me. We had two goals: Buy me a winter jacket and buy an immersion blender so that I could more easily prepare future meals for Lev. We succeeded, and just in time. As we walked out of the jacket store, Becca called, urging us to come save Lev. He gets a little on edge when momma's not around.

My jacket is knee-length, navy, down-filled, washable and quite warm. I like it. I was very tempted to buy a long, poofy, ice-blue jacket that I loved, but opted for a more practical color. Since then, muddy boots have kicked my jacket a time or two, so I feel like I made the right (though not the loveliest) decision. Someday, my kids won't need to by carried (sigh), and I shall wear ice blue.

Wednesday was a day we'd long anticipated: Lois Thorpe returned! And she was staying with us! Alas, in the December chaos, I'd completely neglected our guest/throw-everything-in-there room, so it took me a full day to get it in decent shape for her. Never again, I vowed, will I let it get this out of control.

Thursday we had our friends Oksana, Zhenya and Nikita over for raclette. They've moved to a city about 90 minutes from our house (boo!), so I was extra thankful to see them.

Friday morning, Lois left at 6 a.m. to go visit some friends, and Dietrich woke up as she left. This is about 90 minutes earlier than normal, so we opted to have him take a one-hour nap before lunch. This may sound like minutia, but it matters later on, I promise.

Then, the gift-opening began! Normally, we'd wait until Jan. 1, but we've found that Dietrich doesn't really enjoy receiving many presents all at once. He gets overwhelmed. So, we decided to spread things out. Good thing we did, too, since the second present he opened was the hit of the season: A Buzz Lightyear!

I was worried when he first pulled off the paper. He seemed puzzled, unhappy with Buzz.



But after about 10 minutes of trying out all of Buzz's buttons and bendable parts, he was in LOVE.



My favorite lines of the day: "I got the coolest toy of ever," and, said very seriously: "I think I'm really gonna like playing with this." And he does.

Meanwhile, Lev enjoyed the wrapping paper ...



... and, the hunt is over -- Grandma Cindy found the cutest stuffed lion ever.



Our plan for the night was to Skype with Grandma and Grandpa, put the kids down at about 8, spend a quiet evening watching a movie, wake them up at 11:30, put on outside clothes and go for a midnight stroll to watch the fireworks.

But they must have sensed the excitement in the air, because neither kid slept. At 10 p.m., we finally gave up and let Dietrich watch a movie in bed.

We left the house just prior to midnight. Lev was asleep in his stroller by the time we walked through the archway out of our courtyard. Three minutes later: "Daddy, I'm tired. Can you carry me on your shoulders?" Ten minutes after that: "Daddy, I'm tired. Can we go home?"

We'd barely seen any fireworks at that point, so we took a long route home, and were fortunate to see these beauties.











We also were fortunate to avoid being hit by the one firework we saw shoot sideways and explode against a car in the parking lot outside our building!

When everyone finally rolled out of bed the next morning, the presents were under the tree. My mom labels presents by finding stickers that represents the person's year. The year we got married, I got bridal-themed stickers. The year we drove across the country, I got stickers of the various states. I love this idea! Eric was easy -- baseball stickers on packages from my parents (since we only watch baseball in the States), football stickers on the packages from me (since he goes to watch football at a friend's house on Sunday nights). Lev was easy -- rattles and other baby items.

And for Dietrich? Well, Dietrich loves the number eight. Why? Because it has two circles. Eric dreamt him up a little rhyme about the circular numbers:

Six, eight and nine,
Almost in a line.
Without that dirty seven,
the line would be fine.

When we go to church, Dietrich opens the songbook and looks for the eight songs. (Our songbook is arranged by number, not by title.) Last week, he found 888! So, his packages were labeled with eights.



We had a pleasant morning opening presents. Eric practically wore holes in his shoes finding me a waffle maker; I, on the other hand, took the easy way out and ordered all his presents from Amazon. Baba and Papa sent Dietrich a Duplo "Cars" set that was the second hit of the season. (Actually, that was a nice plus of this year -- Dietrich really appreciated at least one gift from every gift-giver.)

Meanwhile, Lev got a plastic lion and a bin to hold all his hand-me-down toys. Ah, the plight of the same-gendered second child.



We took a break for sweet rolls, then Daddy sneaked out to set up Dietrich's big present from us: a Spiderman race track.



Lev was asleep when the race track made its appearance. When Lev woke up, I learned a lesson. Next time we introduce something huge to the house that's only appropriate for half of the children to touch, I'd better have a plan for where to put it.

So, I spent the next couple of hours coming up with a home for the rack track.

At first, I played with the idea of putting it on a large piece of plywood on casters, so that it could be rolled from room to room. That seemed do-able, but honestly, it would probably be a while before we could pull that project off.

Then I decided to put it in the guest/throw-everything-in-there room. In that room, we have a large cupboard that we had build specifically to hold our winter stroller. The shelf for the stroller is huge -- big enough for a Spiderman race track. However, on New Year's morning, it was packed with the stroller chassis, a stuffed lion chair, all of Dietrich's 2- and 3-year-old clothes, and who knows what else. So, I pulled all that out. Tossed it on one of the guest room beds. And totally undid all the good I'd done earlier in the week.

And then, I decided that I didn't like the idea of banishing Dietrich to the guest room every time he wanted to play with his race track. I mean, our apartment isn't huge or anything, but the guest room is as far away from the kitchen as you can get. So, I eyed my kitchen cabinet. After pulling out the tall pots, a huge basket of potatoes, and all the cookie sheets, muffin tins and pizza pans, I made space for Super Secret Spidey World.



I love this solution! I've long wanted to find something that would keep Dietrich occupied in the kitchen. For some reason, he has decided that his cars, trains and Duplos don't belong in the kitchen. While this means I don't trip over wee vehicles, it also means that Dietrich is often on his own while I'm making meals. Or, if he's in the kitchen, he's bored and therefore prone to start playing with off-limit things: the bolt on the one leg that supports part of our counter, the freezer, his brother's face. Super Secret Spidey World to the rescue!

Of course, this project set me off on an organizational flurry. First, I had to find new homes for all the stuff I pulled out of the cabinet, which led me to discover quite a few things I really didn't need anymore, which led me to start a give-away box, which led me to make a list of all the parts of our apartment that I want to go through with an eye toward paring down our possessions. In with the new, out with the old. Happy New Year!

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 14

On Monday, Dec. 19, Dietrich woke up with a fever. (Broken record alert!) I called sadik to let them know he wouldn't be coming.

And that's when I started to realize the importance of the upcoming winter show.

"Okay," his teacher said. "But tomorrow the gnomes have rehearsal at 11 and he needs the practice. Unless he's extremely sick, bring him to rehearsal tomorrow."

To pass the time on Monday, I filled in a gap in Dietrich's technological knowledge. I taught him how to use a mouse. Or, rather, the fine folks at sesamestreet.org taught him how to use a mouse.

We're pretty no-tech around here when it comes to the kids. Dietrich can't turn on a DVD on his own. He doesn't know how to use the remote. We don't have any video gaming systems. And I've always been too nervous to let him touch my computer. It seemed akin to letting him touch my brain -- and, actually, these days, my computer's more reliable than my brain. (Insert stuck-up Mac-user quip here.)

But last week, we had a friend over to play. And, while they were arguing over who got to write on the chalkboard, the friend suggested that Dietrich have computer time while he wrote with chalk. "Dietrich's not allowed to play on the computer," I said. The friend, age 5, looked shocked.

I decided I'd better get with the times.

In other Monday news, Lev started babbling. He's been a mostly silent kid, but all of a sudden on Monday, in a fit of frustration, he threw himself back and said, "Da, da, da, da, da!" However, when I say "ma, ma, ma" to him, he still laughs at me like I'm crazy.

By Monday night the fever was gone, but to be on the safe side, I took Dietrich in to school later, in time for rehearsal. On the way in, I ran into another mom bringing her daughter late.

"Are you sick," I inquired.

"No, but the winter show is what we work for all year," she said. "I don't want her to get sick before it, so we're only coming for rehearsal this week."

This was my second sign that the winter show is a Big Deal.

My third sign came when I picked Dietrich up an hour later -- and so did three other moms, all of them wanting to avoid pre-show illness.

Well, I didn't really know this was an option. But, given Dietrich's weakened immune system, I decided to do the same. It worked out great, and gave us a little extra time to do some craft projects for his teachers (cotton-ball snowmen) and some friends (macaroni art, inspired by this game).

Thursday was the day of the Big Show. Pre-show was (as always) chaos: Moms (or grandmas) come to help the kids get dressed, and there really isn't space for that many extra bodies in the changing room. No matter how early I show up, I never seem to be there early enough. Some of the little girls have curled hair, lipstick, eyeshadow -- the whole glamor-shot look, so that certainly takes more time than slipping on a gnome (dwarf) outfit.

Dietrich doesn't do well in crowded chaotic situations. I'm pretty sure he learned to dislike these moments this from me. So, our pre-show pictures are pretty glum.



But the performance was great!







This was Dietrich's first time performing with a small group -- just four dwarfs and a Snow White. The only glitch was at the end, when everyone else went to sit down, and Dietrich stood in the middle of the room until his little friend Sasha caught his attention and directed him to sit.

Also, Dietrich opted to play peek-a-boo with his shovel during the poetry part of his act. Really, I can't blame him. There was a LOT of poetry.





Lev and I only made it through about the first 40 minutes. Soon after Grandfather Frost (the Slavic Santa Claus equivalent) showed up, Lev had had enough. Interestingly, when Grandfather Frost entered the show, the kids remained rather non-plussed. I expected screams of delight. Or terror. Or something.



That night, Eric took Dietrich on a special outing to get a present for me. They came home with flowers, and Dietrich "accidentally" announced one of my other Christmas gifts. That kid loves him the revealed secret.

While they were out, I peeled, steamed and pureed a squash that had been sitting around for a while. You see, well past his six-month birthday, Lev still hadn't tasted anything other than mama milk. I planned to wait until the next day and make a big deal out of his first "solid" meal. You know, camera, special bib, dad and big brother cheering him on. A repeat, if you will, of Dietrich's first meal.

But as I portioned out the squash, I looked at my finger, coated in rich, orange puree, and then I stuck it in Lev's mouth. No camera. No witness. Just me and my hungry baby, eagerly grasping for another fingerful.

Friday morning, I finally realized how you know you're a grown-up. You call your teenage babysitter at 9:12 a.m. on Christmas break. And, when you confess to your husband (via Skype, because you're not so grown-up that you still use a regular telephone) that you woke her up, he replies:

[12/24/10 9:35:01 AM] eric brandon oldenburg: you're officially old. you called a teenager on a day with no school before noon.

[12/24/10 9:57:04 AM] eric and josie oldenburg: i know. i'm so embarassed

[12/24/10 9:58:16 AM] eric brandon oldenburg: don't worry about it. as much as we'd like to think otherwise, i'm sure becca and benjamin and all of them see us more like their parents than like their friends.

E-gad! More like their parents?!? But their parents are adults! How has this happened?

We also walked to the street corner and picked out a Christmas tree on Friday, aka Christmas Eve. (Trees are part of the New Year's tradition here, so they're hard to find and pricey if you get them early. We pick out our tree on Christmas Eve and decorate it on December 25. Eric describes the rest of our unusual holiday schedule here.) It was Dietrich's special Advent treat to choose the tree, and he picked one with a wee pinecone growing on it. I was totally charmed.

Saturday, we opened stockings and a family present -- "Toy Story 3." We ate fancy breakfast, decorated the tree, had family movie time, went to church, Skyped with the grandparents and aunt and uncle, and just generally enjoyed Jesus' birthday.









Somehow, we managed to skip reading Jesus' birth story on December 25, so we made up for it then next night, when we had friends over for dinner, Christmas cookies and a showing of "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 10-13

Well, let's just breeze through the past month, shall we?

Way back in November, two notable events fell on the same day -- American Thanksgiving and the last day of Eric's philosophy class.

On Thanksgiving, I was walking toward the post office when I noticed a lady walk by, her arms full of bright-orange flowers that looked like she had ripped them right out of the ground. Sure enough, outside of the post office, a worker was clearing the flower beds in preparation for the next day's expected snow. "Take as many as you can carry," she said. So, I did. And I felt thankful!



I remember our first couple of Thanksgivings in Ukraine, when the thought of my whole family gathered at my aunt's house made me weepy. Now that we're done with language school and living a more-typical life here, I have to admit that the day usually catches me off-guard, and prompts little to no emotional reaction. I suppose this is growth?

The truth is, Thanksgiving and December 25 are just like any other days to everyone around us. Dietrich has school. The stores don't slash prices on turkey or corn, and there are no sweet potatoes to be had. Seminary classes are in session; Eric didn't finish teaching until after our team's Thanksgiving dinner had started. Still, after he wrapped up, we joined the rest of our team for the traditional feast. It was:

1) A good opportunity to notice how much Dietrich and our family have changed in the past year. Last year, I had a long conversation with another mom about the getting-Dietrich-into-preschool process. This year, he's completely accustomed to Ukrainian school life. Last year, he was shy about speaking to the group. This year, he and some other kids sang to the crowd. Last year, he sat on Eric's lap and we had to convince him to take every bite. This year, he sat on his own and ate without (much) complaint. And last year, Dietrich announced that I was pregnant. This year, Lev's on the outside, content to be carried by any willing person.

2) Relatively small. Only one of the people with whom we sat last year was there this year. Some have moved on to other fields. Some are on Home Service. Once again, it hit me that goodbyes are the one constant in missionary life.

3) Tasty! Many times, at big group gatherings, my allergy prevents me from sampling most of the dishes. This time, no less than four people cooked Josie-safe food, so I had my fill of turkey, gravy, rolls, stuffing and desserts -- all things that have to be made with imported grains (or, in the case of the turkey, without stuffing) to ensure no buckwheat contamination. I was so touched by the thoughtfulness of all these dear teammates who kept me in mind as they prepared their dishes.


Dietrich helped me bake cupcakes for Thanksgiving dinner. I just can't keep from photographing this kid when he's covered in chocolate.

Eric ended his philosophy class totally exhausted, but pleasantly surprised that he was able to communicate all that he wanted to say in Russian. However (and he knew this would be the case going in), some of his students considered the study of philosophy to be time wasted on worldly wisdom. Alas, he felt some left the class still holding this view, even though he tries to teach this rather heady subject as practically as possible.

Philosophy class behind him, Eric spent the next week (November 29-December 5, if you're keeping track) preparing for the upcoming Talbot session.

On Monday, we got a box of Christmas cheer from my mom. It was a great box, stuffed with my favorite holiday goodies, and it arrived just at the right moment.

Because, the next day, I sent Dietrich to school in new snow pants. When I picked him up, he was shivering. I feared that I'd bought inferior pants, but it turned out a 103-degree fever was to blame. Poor kid was home sick for another week. This time, we kept the TV-watching to a minimum, plus he discovered VeggieTales (so much shorter and less combative than some of his other favorite movies).

Dietrich was pretty understanding of the fact that I did have some work that I couldn't set aside, as Harvest Heartbeat (the Eurasia-wide newsletter that I put together for SEND) had to be to the printer by Friday. It probably helped that we started Advent that week, so he had something to look forward to each morning.

Ah, Advent. I love a good, long, intentional run-up to Christmas, and yet in past years, I've often found myself scrambling to read the birth narratives at 11 p.m. on December 24, in a last-minute attempt to prepare my soul.

Last year, I bought a huge Advent calendar. It's made of cascading numbered stars with little pockets in them. Here, take a look:



Last year, in addition to stuffing some of the pockets with little toys and treats, I included daily Bible readings. Though he enjoyed the toys and treats, Dietrich was mostly bored during the Bible-reading bits. Especially by the prophetic verses. Seriously. What was I thinking?

This year, I found a Christmas story for children online, then rewrote it to reflect elements of Dietrich's daily life and our family's particular linguistic patterns. We read a paragraph every day. This, coupled with the fact that Dietrich is a year older, has made for much more meaningful anticipation of Jesus' birth.

As an aside, Eric and I are reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, our Dietrich's namesake. That Dietrich's mom refused to use a children's Bible, and would only read to her eight children from the grown-up text. This I cannot fathom, but that Dietrich did turn out awesome.

At the end of the week, we welcomed an overnight guest -- a young man studying at Dallas Theological Seminary who is considering whether to serve here after he graduates. We were impressed because he seemed eager to embrace Ukrainian culture; Dietrich was impressed because he knew the names of all four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.


I can't recall the exact day, but around this time, we moved Lev out of our room and into Dietrich's (or, as we now try to remember to say, into the boys' room). So, at long last, Dietrich got to climb into Lev's wee former bed.


Meanwhile, Lev practiced his baby yoga. In his attempts to crawl, this silly kid has tried every possible permutation other than moving his hands and knees at the same time. At the moment, when he sees something he MUST HAVE NOW, he does a pushup/lunge combo that gets him across a room with surprising speed.

OK. Let's move on to December 6-12, shall we? Talbot started, so it was back to long days for Eric -- but two more sessions and the first set of Talbot--Kyiv Extension students will earn their master's degrees! Those long days are so worth it.

Four notable family moments from that week:

1) Some friends gave Dietrich the stuffed Nativity set that their kids outgrew. It is the hit of the season. Right now, Baby Jesus is swaddled in yarn ("to keep him warm and to help Mary") and riding a camel. Earlier today, Dietrich watched Baby Jesus while Mary took a nap. And there have been days when everyone -- Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, shepherds, wise men, sheep and camel -- has been afflicted by a throw-up bug.

2) Thursday night, I was all prepared to go to Mom's Night Out. Eric was going to watch the kids; I was going to enjoy grown-up conversation and bacon-wrapped steak. But when I picked Dietrich up from preschool, I was informed about that night's parents' meeting. Well, it's not bacon-wrapped steak, but I actually enjoy the parents' meetings. I don't say much, but I get the chance to listen to some fascinating Russian. No one is simplifying it for my sake. We're not in a church or seminary setting, people are generally upset about something, and no one is pulling any punches. Most of the meeting is about money (how much we need to pony up for this, that and the other thing), and there is negotiation, argument and cajoling aplenty.

3) On Friday night, our special Advent activity was a date with Dietrich. We left Lev in the capable arms of one of the ladies on our team, and gave Dietrich some time with just mom and dad. The stated goal was to buy a present for Lev (mission accomplished), but we were delighted by Dietrich's mature behavior throughout the evening -- and even on through the next few days.

Dietrich seems to have done so well with the transition to becoming a big brother. One of his Thanksgiving tree leaves reads, "I'm thankful that I love Lev," -- and we're thankful, too! But his remarkably calm demeanor when Lev wasn't around was telling. I'm so glad that we got the chance to experience this change in his character; I'm always hoping to understand Dietrich a bit better. Our undivided attention seemed to be balm for his soul -- and we didn't even know he needed balm.

4) We got another surprise package of Christmas cheer! My talented friend Amanda sewed us these ornaments. I can't make anything that isn't edible, but thanks to Amanda, our home is full of handmade heirlooms.



This past week, Talbot continued. We were able to share a meal with the visiting professor, a former SEND missionary in Bulgaria who lived in San Jose for a while and went to the same church as our Northern California pediatrician, who happens to be the brother of Eric's best friend's wife. Small world. I love that we get to share meals with so many interesting people whom we never would have met had we stayed in California.

On Friday, Lev and I went for an evening walk with him in the baby carrier. Despite the wind and cold, he was snuggled up warm against my chest. It was a delightful walk, and I made a mental note to enjoy it, as the weather was sure to shift soon, bringing snow and slippery sidewalks.

That night, we got about six inches of snow. The next morning, I slipped and slided through a trip to buy Dietrich warm slippers and new dance shoes. It seems our days of outdoor babywearing have come to an end. Boo.

Eric is fighting a cold; it's been hanging on for a couple of weeks now. Lev's sick too, and has turned back into royalty with daily saunas.

And I started concentrating on the card-writing, cookie-making and gift-giving bits of Christmas this week. We also got another surprise Christmas package -- this one stuffed with treats from my grandma. She sent Sharpies. I heart Sharpies!

Well, lookie here. I'm feeling all Christmas-spirity, and it's not even 11 p.m. on December 24.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 9

I forgot to mention in my last post that Eric bought me the most beautiful flowers on Sunday. Some kind of mum, but purple and white striped, with bright-yellow centers. He coupled the mums with yellow roses. I mention the flowers because I really came to appreciate having something beautiful blooming in my kitchen as the week unfolded.

So, Monday dawned and Dietrich was sick. Our basic approach to fevers is this: Wait two days. On the third day, call the doctor. Why? Well, after the third day, we have to have a doctor's note to go back to school anyway, so a doctor will have to be involved. Second, the doctor we usually call always takes a wait-and-see approach, and generally won't come do an examination until the third day anyway. (He does house calls. We love that!)

We started the day by sending daddy off to his first experience teaching philosophy in a modular format. This meant mornings of preparing in Russian and afternoons of teaching (for four straight hours) in Russian. Yep, he was pretty zonked by the end of the week.

The first sick day is always kinda mellow, right? Lots of movies, snuggles, cups of hot tea, stories. I left the house after Eric got back in the evening for a 45-minute grocery run. It was the last time I'd leave the apartment until Saturday.

The second sick day, I borrowed an idea from Andrea Hoglund (of Kremenchuk fame) and we created a thankfulness tree out of an Amazon box and some cardstock. It ended up taking little snippets of time all day to complete. At that point, I was feeling like a pretty good mom. Creative. Compassionate. Yay me. It didn't last.

The third day, we called the doctor. He listened to Dietrich's chest and prescribed antibiotics. I was thankful to have a grown-up visitor at the time the doctor arrived. She held Lev while I helped with Dietrich's exam, and she provided some much-needed adult conversation.

Alas, after the doctor left, I rather gave up on occupying Dietrich, a decision I came to regret. The stories for the Eurasia-wide newsletter that I put together were trickling in and needed to be edited, and keeping Dietrich entertained, hydrated and away from his brother pretty much was consuming my days. So I started letting the little guy watch as many movies as he wanted.

I did get all the stories edited in time to send them along to the woman who back-reads them for me, but at the expense of letting movies take over Dietrich's brain. All he talked about were movies. When he played, he just acted out movie scenes -- especially, it seemed, the more unpleasant ones.

Hey, look, I love me a good movie. Sometimes I even love me a bad movie. In my family, going to a Friday night movie and discussing it afterward was a tradition governed by particular rules (first rule: no mention of the movie until you get into the car). But everything in moderation, right? And we threw moderation right out the window. By Sunday, I'd determined not to let a sick week play out that way again.

It was, however, a good week for figuring out how to keep both kids together but separate. In this case, because of germs, but Lev can get around more and more, so we needed some strategies for keeping him away from brother's carefully constructed towers and train tracks anyway.

We gave the bounce seat another try, and it was a super hit.




And I pulled out the pack-n-play, which I very rarely used with Dietrich. For Lev, it's super -- and will be even better when he stops falling over three minutes after I stick him in there.


By Friday, Dietrich's temperature was just as high as it had been before we started the antibiotics, plus Lev was getting pretty congested. I heard that the doctor was again on our side of town, so I asked him to stop by. He advised staying the course with Dietrich for at least one more day. And then he turned Lev into a king! By which I mean, he prescribed thrice-daily saunas and massages.


King Lev in his sauna.

Saturday, Eric had to teach in the morning (this is part of the modular schedule). But my dear, sweet husband came back after a whole week of speaking and writing and thinking and sometimes arguing in Russian, which is utterly exhausting, and gave me a few hours to get out of the apartment. I feel selfish even typing about it! I chose to do a little Christmas shopping. Those were three very speedy hours.

By Sunday, Dietrich was sufficiently healthy to request the doctor's note that freed him to return to school, and I can't remember anything else! So, I'll leave you with this photo of my own, personal right angle.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 8

I caught a cold right after we got back from Kremenchuk, so my hazy mind only recalls seven things from November 8-14.

1) We managed to make it to the Kremenchuk train station in time for our trip back to Kyiv. As expected, Lev hated the ride, but it was much easier to control the hate when there was room to stand up, bounce and take a little stroll. We didn't expect Dietrich's reaction -- he preferred the van! Too bad, kiddo, I'm never taking that marshrutka again.


Get me off of this thing!


Trains are boring.

2) On the way to a friend's apartment, we saw a lady walking her cat. On a leash.

3) On the same day, there was a goat hanging out in our courtyard all afternoon. We fed him a leaf, but he was really interested in eating Dietrich's goldfish crackers (they're German and fancier than the U.S. version, so I can understand why the goat wanted them).

4) I finished the Ukraine Update, a project I do four times a year to help recruiters in North America know what kinds of ministry opportunities exist over here.

5) We found out that, while we maybe won't find out the gender of my niece-or-nephew-to-be (until March, that is), he or she appears to be growing just perfectly.

6) Eric took a little break from prepping for his philosophy class to host a movie night. He dubbed it "Catching Up with the Culture Wars" and showed "Expelled" and "Religulous." Heated discussion occurred. I stayed home with the kids and started "The Young Victoria." It was a sweet movie, and I don't see it prompting any arguments.

7) Our friends Oksana and Zhenya are house-sitting in Kyiv, and they invited us over for dinner Sunday night. She made lasagna and forgot the tomato sauce, and it was so good. Like fancy mac and cheese. We had a great time that night -- until we got home and realized that Dietrich was running a fever.