Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 22

On Valentine's Day, we again forwent cards, opting instead to hang our affections on a branch. Ideally, we each would hang a couple of hearts each day in the week preceding the holiday. This year, on Valentine's Eve, four lonely hearts sadly dangled. So, deciding that Dietrich was the member of the family most in need of praise, I sat down Sunday night and wrote gobs of messages to him. He was exited Monday morning to see how our tree had "grown" overnight, and we shared the messages over dinner that evening. He seemed nonplussed by all the affection, but I imagine it sunk into his soul at least a bit.

In my free moments during the week, I tried to prepare for the upcoming conference for SEND women. First, I was scheduled to help lead singing, so I had some wonderful new songs to learn. Second, the conference was structured around a book, "Idols of the Heart," but since I was bringing Lev to the conference, I thought I'd better pre-read it, just in case Lev wasn't in to playing on his own during the designated reading times. And, since my allergy to buckwheat is so severe, I prefer to make my own food and bring it with me to such events, so there was some cooking to do. (There's always some cooking to do -- thankfully, I love it.)

Part of preparing for the singing was acclimating Lev to the Ergo. I even tried the backpack function, which was quite comfortable, but you really have to look out to make sure you AND the baby's bobbly head are going to clear a doorway.



Andrea, the leader of the worship time, came in a day early so that we could practice. Bertha joined us on guitar. Lev hung out in the Ergo. All was well. I was so thankful that Andrea had stayed with us the next morning, when she helped me carry the suitcase, pack'n'play, bag o' food and bag o' baby stuff down to the taxi.

The conference was delightful. I had very low expectations about how much time I would be able to spend with the other ladies, since I had Lev with me. But the schedule worked out just perfectly -- the reading times were during his eating times, and the group discussion times were during his sleeping times (not that he slept during all his sleeping times, but that's our little social butterfly).


Lev in our room, which had plenty of floor space for crawling and three beds on which to practice standing. It also had three side tables, which toppled when little babies pulled on them, and four very appealing floor-level outlets (hence the overturned barrier chair in the background.)

During the one long stretch of free time, I signed up for a haircut (I got bangs!), and then figured that I'd just hang out in our room. It just so happened that the haircuts took place right outside the door to our room, so Lev could play while I chatted with the other ladies waiting their turn.


See that bruise? We left with one bruise and came back with two. We're in the bruise-a-day stage over here -- darn that mobility.

Lev had a very hard time sleeping on his own, but in the evenings, I was content to get him to sleep, then cuddle up with a new George MacDonald book. In the past, I think I would have missed the fellowship and game-playing and coffee-drinking going on in the main room, but I am so book-deprived at this stage of my life that I was thrilled to read for a whole hour without any interruption.

The singing went well, I think. Lev was too interested in the microphone to stay in the Ergo, but he happily was held by a different lady during each session. The cooks took a shine to him, so he also spent some time in the warm and steamy kitchen -- a nice contrast to the freezing meeting room.

Meanwhile, back at home, Eric and Dietrich:

1) Went to the toy store to spend Dietrich's birthday money, and to the grocery store to stock up on junk food and fruit.

2) Went to McDonald's.

3) Met Spiderman, who gave Dietrich a toy. (This was at a show at our local House of Culture. The advertisements for the show prominently featured Spiderman, but it turns out, he was just the doorman. The show was about pirates and a drunken Batman. Dietrich didn't care a bit -- he was just so excited to meet Spiderman.)

4) Watched a movie.

So, pretty much an awesome weekend for everyone.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 21

Hmmm ... not the best week ever.

We're struggling with a little thing called "respect" over in these parts, so on Monday, Dietrich lost all his favorite toys. But I found a use for all those alphabet magnets on our fridge. Every time he's respectful, he earns a letter. Every time he earns enough letters to spell "respect," he earns a toy back.

In related news, I've had "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me" stuck in my head all week.

Bertha the goose gutter taught me to make jam on Monday morning. I have yet to try it at home, but the process was much easier than I expected. Did you know that if you boil whatever it is you're canning and pour it into the jar hot, you don't have to process the jar itself?

Monday night, Eric went to watch some football game at a friend's house, and came home with a list of commercials for me to watch. This was my fav.


Playing with Daddy before the big game ...





Tuesday was a happy day: I sent one of my ongoing SEND projects to the printer. Remember the days when sending something to the printer meant buying really expensive zip disks and dropping them in a FedEx box? So much easier/cheaper now.

Also on Tuesday, my blow-dryer exploded in my hand. Sparks flew! (Thankfully no one was hurt.) So on Wednesday, Lev and I walked to an electronics store. He fell asleep right before we got there, and it was on the second floor. I started to bump the stroller up the steps, when I was stopped by the lady mopping the floor. (At a busy store, there's often a person assigned to mopping the doorway all day.) She insisted I leave sleeping Lev with her. Though I agreed, and though I know it's totally normal to do that here (or even to leave the baby without anyone watching him or her), I still felt tense the whole time I was away from him and ended up making a poor, hurried choice.

Wednesday night, Eric went to small group while I stayed home with the kids. Thursday night, I went to Mom's Night Out while Eric stayed home with the kids. I rushed home from Mom's Night Out because Lev always wakes up to eat at 9. But his little body must have thought that no mama milk was available, because he slept until 11.

The brief hours away with other grown women refreshed me, so much so that I actually felt alert when I woke up WAY earlier than usual on Friday to take Lev on some downtown-Kyiv errands. We had an appointment at the embassy at 9, so we left at 7.

My goal was to get Lev a Social Security number before filing our taxes this year. After waiting 20 minutes for the very nice (but rather slow) embassy worker to photocopy and stamp three pieces of paper, he told me it would take three to six months to receive the card. So, I guess we're filing for an extension on our taxes this year.

Next up: Vaccinations. At this point, I had been carrying Lev in our borrowed Ergo (he's technically too heavy for our Bjorn) for nearly three hours, and we still had an hour before our appointment. I was hoping the doctor would squeeze us in early, but she couldn't, so we strolled around for an hour. My body thanked me when I finally was able to set Lev down on the examination table.

He's 23.5 pounds on the doctor's scale, which is 100th percentile for his age. (This is actually a drop for him; at his four-month visit, he was about 110th percentile.) Height, 75th percentile; head, 50th percentile. Toughness, 1000th percentile. He shed nary a tear when they gave him the shot.

Eric spent the week writing a sermon for Sunday, and on Friday night, he met with a language teacher to go over it for grammar and proper pronunciation. So we asked Miss Lois to take his place at dinner, and then we played some intense games of Uno (Dietrich's new passion).

Saturday, snow and wind whipped through the air. We stayed inside all day, preparing for evening guests, giving daddy time to practice his sermon and making Valentines for sadik.

I am ashamed to admit how quickly I crumbled under the pressure of trying to make Valentines that met sadik's standards. (Artistic skills are highly valued here.) When I picked Dietrich up from dance class on Friday, I was given a paper heart and was told that we should make at least one Valentine to hang on the wall. (Some of the examples already hanging on the wall were on-par with the work of a professional scrapbooker.) Also, if Dietrich wanted to make some Valentines for a few friends, he could.

I asked how many we should make if we wanted to make them for all the kids. They laughed at me. No need, they said.

Then another mom asked who should do the Valentines, the kids or the moms. "The kids," the teacher said, "But, of course the moms should help so that they turn out beautiful."

People. I understand your words. I do not understand your secret cultural codes. From the above exchange, I do not know how many to make or who should make them. Also, I am not crafty, and neither is my kid. He would much rather crash cars than paste. Also, I already feel sad for the kids who aren't going to get any Valentines.

Anyhow, on Saturday morning, Dietrich and I made about 10 Valentines. We employed glue, tissue paper, stickers, paint and Q-tips. They were not particularly beautiful, nor were they particularly ugly. We made a few with no names on them, so that they could go to any kids who didn't get a card. Dietrich was cranky about having to follow my instructions; I was cranky because I knew that, despite our best efforts, we likely weren't doing them right (as in, the way everyone else was doing them). It was ridiculous.

Saturday night, we had Dietrich's former nanya and her family over for dinner. (And I re-hired her to stay with Lev two mornings a week, but that's a post for the future.) I told her what Dietrich's teacher said, and she said that it probably meant the moms should do them.

Oh well.

On Sunday, I made heart-shaped chocolate cookies for Dietrich's class. And I made a lot of them so that at least everyone would get a cookie. (Sending homemade snacks is unheard of here, but I KNOW that, so I willingly chose to do the odd thing. Interesting how my perceived control of the situation makes all the difference in my attitude, isn't it?)

Though it's encroaching on next week's post, I'll go ahead and let you know that our Valentines were perfectly acceptable and on-par (beauty-wise) with the Valentines Dietrich received. We did make two mistakes: We wrote the intended recipient's name on them, and we signed them. My impression is that the kids delivered the Valentines to their intended recipient's bed, and then the teachers redispersed, as needed. The fact that our Valentines were fine actually makes me feel like even more of an idiot for worrying so much about them all weekend.

Back to Sunday. During Lev's nap, Dietrich and I finished "Toys Go Out" -- the first read-aloud chapter book that he's really looked forward to reading. Thankfully, there's a sequel, with an even better title: "Toy Dance Party." Oh, goody, I just noticed that a third book in the series is coming out in September.

Eric took Dietrich sledding on Sunday afternoon, and it was the highlight of the week for both of them, even though Dietrich ran into a tree on his first attempt. I love that Dietrich doesn't give up, even when his first try goes awry.

Sunday night, Lev cut a tooth. The doctor had shown some concern about his toothless state on Friday, so I was pleased to be able to put that fear to rest. I think it popped through while we were talking with my family on Skype, though he was rather undramatic about it.


I love this little teething face!

This was a strange week to live far away from family. My grandfather's memorial service was Thursday, and my sister-in-law's baby shower was Sunday. We did a lot of Skyping with my family during the week, so I was kept in the loop, but it's not really the same as being there.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 20

My cold continued to knock me out, so on Monday I took at three-hour nap with Lev, who also was sick by that point. I woke up feeling so much better, and was able to enjoy the rest of the day with the Teuberts. Sweetest moment: Jenny, the eldest Teubert daughter, also was sick, so she spent the day in her parents' bed. At one point, the three younger kids (her two sisters and Dietrich) joined her in the bed, where they spent a good chunk of time huddled together over Legos.

We left on the Tuesday morning train. Thankfully, we had a coupe this time -- actually, we had beds in two different coupes, but the conductor took one look at our tired, bedraggled, 6-in-the-morning selves and told us to stick together. (She worked it out with the other passengers.)

The trip was fantastic. Everyone went back to sleep until 9, and when we all woke up, Lev crawled around on the bench, we played games at the little table -- we had such a pleasant time that Dietrich chose NOT to watch a movie.

I was supposed to take Lev to get his already VERY overdue six-month vaccinations and a Social Security card on Wednesday, but he woke up sicker than ever, so I canceled both appointments. He should have gotten these shots in early December, but he was sick for several weeks, and then it was the holidays, and then the clinic was out of vaccines for most of January. So, we're quite behind. I'm hoping this won't prevent us from getting the one-year vaccinations done while we're in America in May.

A few other notable events from the week:

1) Our last Christmas box arrived! It was from my brother and sister-in-law, and we opened it "with" them (via Skype). It was packed with yummy treats and three action figures from "Toy Story." Oh, happy Dietrich! For those of you unfamiliar with the movies, Andy is the name of the boy in "Toy Story." I asked Dietrich if he knew any other kids who had so many Toy Story toys, and he replied, "Nope, only Andy!"

You have to respect the marketing genius that is Toy Story. It's a movie about toys. Therefore, every. single. thing. in the movie can be made into a toy and sold. Genius. Thankfully, Dietrich seems content with his Christmas bonanza.

2) I put Lev down for a nap on Saturday. A minute later, it was suspiciously quiet in his room. I peeked in: He had pulled himself up to a standing position in his crib. Then, on Sunday night, he started for-reals crawling! I wasn't too concerned about his soldier lunge, but several people last week commented on the important brain development that accompanies crawling. So, I spent about 15 minutes on Sunday afternoon crawling circles around him on the living room floor. Suddenly, he started to mimic me. He still reverts occasionally to the soldier lunge, but he's learning that the more-typical style is quicker and less exhausting.

3) We put together a newsletter. Did you get it? If not, let me know and I can e-mail it to you.

4) On Sunday afternoon, Bertha the goose gutter invited seven young missionary kids over to her apartment for a story (a fable from her youth), cookies and playdough. Isn't that sweet? And a little bit crazy? I so appreciate her!

5) Two families that we know in the States suffered serious medical emergencies with their children. (Read about one here.) Thankfully, God spared both little boys' lives. Another friend is going through a difficult transition, and we were able to Skype for a while. My parents are organizing my grandfather's memorial service, and I've been able to keep up-to-date with the plans and with how they're handling the loss. I know Skype and Facebook have their disadvantages, but as someone who lives very far away (and in another age wouldn't know about these situations until months after they occurred), I appreciated the ability to immediately pray for these families and to talk with my friend and with my family.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 19

The week started out slowly. After nearly two weeks of being able to focus on Oldenburg family projects that had stacked up during the fall semester, I finally felt like life was in balance again. I decided to take advantage of this (probably brief) respite by keeping Dietrich (who had had a fever on Sunday) home on Monday and Tuesday, even though he was perfectly healthy both days.


Getting ready for a rare weekday stroll with brother.

Two days home is the max we can skip before we have to get a note from the doctor (even if we're on vacation). So, on Wednesday morning, I bid Dietrich and Eric farewell -- only to have Eric call shortly thereafter to tell me that Dietrich's class was having an optional quarantine for scarlet fever.

My heart quickened. Scarlet fever? Don't people die from this?

I feel I can be forgiven for this reaction, as all I ever knew about scarlet fever, I knew from childhood literature -- Beth March is seriously afflicted in "Little Women" and Mary goes blind from it in the "Little House" series.

But Wikipedia assures me: "Once a major cause of death, it is now effectively treated with antibiotics."

Since Dietrich already had been exposed by playing with the sick girl the week before, and because no other children had fallen ill in the intervening days, we decided to chance it. (I won't leave you in suspense: He never got it, and neither did anyone else in his class.)

This was our first experience with an optional quarantine. We learned that each family can decide whether to send their child to school, but the quarantined class can't mingle with other students. So, they don't go outside to play. Physical education, dance and other afternoon lessons are canceled. And this time, they missed a schoolwide puppet show, too.


"Momma, let's play 'Oh, no, where could Dietrich be?'"


Getting in on the hide-and-seek action.

Things picked up speed later in the week: Eric turned in his grades for his fall-semester philosophy class. Everyone who turned in the work passed, and one student enjoyed the reading so much that he declared himself a "soldier in the army of Moreland."

We also had small group Wednesday night, Lois for dinner Friday, our team's annual Day of Prayer on Saturday -- plus we planned a last-minute trip to visit friends in Sumy.

Hoping to learn from our mistakes, we left really early for the night train to Sumy, and ended up killing an hour at McDonald's. We were accompanied by another teammate, Sarah, who had come to Kyiv for the Day of Prayer. Though we hadn't planned to travel with her, her presence ended up being a Godsend.

Eric and Dietrich had seats next to each other on the train. My seat was next to a strange (as in I didn't know him, though he didn't seem particularly odd) man, but Sarah swapped with him.

Lev hated the train. Again. I spent most of the trip either trying to nurse him (mostly unsuccessfully), or pacing with him, stopping occasionally to sit for a moment. This would have been inconvenient and uncomfortable had I been constantly disturbing the strange man, or trying to nurse modestly next to him, when Lev is totally distracted by the nursing cover-up and would prefer to play peek-a-boo with it.

Finally, to get Lev to eat, we had to send Dietrich to sit with Sarah, while I took up more than my allotted space in Dietrich's old seat (which was next to the window, and thus offered more privacy). Dietrich was more than happy to go sit with Miss Sarah. Probably he wouldn't have enjoyed the strange man as much.

To accompany Lev's constant fussiness, our train car contained several young drunk men who took a fancy to the baby (one of whom, slurring, said "I want one exactly like him"), pools of ick on the bathroom floor, a young couple picking the meat off of plastic bags full of crawdads, a babyshka who sat so stone still that I felt I should hold a mirror in front of her face to check for life, and a set of 25-ish-year-old identical twins dressed exactly alike. It was some ride.

We were happy to arrive, snag a taxi and finally arrive at the Teuberts' lovely house.

Did you catch that? House! The Teuberts don't live in an apartment. Several years ago, they bought a run-down house in a darling neighborhood. When they moved in, there was no place to buy bread nearby; now there is a tiny shop that sells bread, vodka, soda and candy, along with some other essentials.

All their renovations (which cost nearly twice the price of the house!) paid off. The house is beautiful. It's two-story and thoughtfully designed with the kitchen, dining room and living room all connected and a play area under the stairs. The back yard is huge and, at this time of year, packed with clean snow (a rarity in the city). Dietrich spent some time one afternoon perched in a tree, eating a snowball. Winter doesn't get better, if you're a 4-year-old boy.

Inside, the Teubert girls (ages 2 to 8) kept Dietrich occupied. Martin Teubert is Swiss, Anja is German and the kids speak German and Russian, with the older two adding some English and 5-year-old Melissa sometimes favoring Ukrainian. Without any parental influence, the kids figured out that Russian was their common language.

Meanwhile, I caught a cold, and ended up going back to bed pretty soon after I woke up on Sunday. Sick is a bummer, but if you're going to be sick, best to do it when your 4-year-old is totally enraptured by a house full of playmates and awesome German toys and your husband is away from work and able to entertain your 8-month-old.

I enjoy learning from Anja as she runs a household with four children; for instance, she doesn't immediately try to get breakfast on the table first thing in the morning. Instead, she stalls with chocolate milk, and serves breakfast once everyone is awake and alert. When the younger kids play with Duplos, they play on a big blanket. When they're done, she lifts up the corners and pours the Duplos back into their container. So smart!

Alas, we forgot our camera, but our neighborhood strolls left many a visual impression. Row after row of simple brick houses, blanketed in snow -- the calming effect occasionally jarred by an out-of-place log cabin, overly angular modern facade or Mexican-style villa. Bright red berry bushes popping out from the white background. Shiny icicles reaching down toward the frozen ground. Runoff from the neighborhood well forming an impromptu ice slide.

Ahhhhh.

I love, love, love our apartment. Seriously, not a day goes by that I don't walk into the kids' room and thank the Lord that we have a warm place to tuck them in at night. (This wasn't the case at our first apartment here.) But I do enjoy the respite of a house with a yard, especially one populated by fun kids and their hospitable parents.

Lev cruises his crib in his warm room:

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 18

This was the Week of the Meeting for Eric. He had a brothers' meeting at church on Monday night, an Executive Committee meeting on Wednesday afternoon, an Area Council meeting from 2 p.m. until midnight on Thursday, a men's breakfast on Saturday morning, and a men's meeting at church on Sunday night. Whew.

While we waited for daddy to get home from meetings, the boys and I:

1) Had Lois Thorpe over for dinner twice! We're so glad to have her back.

2) Committed the past year to DVD. Soon, the grandparents will be receiving a three-disc set I've dubbed "The Year of Pixar," for it was about this time in 2010 that Dietrich grew focused enough to watch a whole movie. And that I grew pregnant enough to let him watch a whole movie.

We started with "Finding Nemo," and moved on to "Cars," "Toy Story," Toy Story 2," "Monsters Inc.," and "Toy Story 3." I think we're about caught up on Pixar's age-appropriate movies (except for boring ol' "A Bug's Life"). Needless to say, we're hotly anticipating the "Cars" sequel.

I assuage my guilt about letting Dietrich watch movies by insisting that on weekdays, we only watch them in Russian or Ukrainian. Just sneakin' in a little extra language learning.

By the way, what did little boys watch before Pixar? "Jungle Book" over and over and over?

OK. Get ready. Here's the part of this blog where I get with the times. I posted scenes from Dietrich's sadik show on youtube. (Special appearance by Lev's head at 9:12.)

The camera man (Eric) apologizes for the video quality. We grownups are packed into the back of the room, and pretty much everyone is holding a recording device of some sort and jostling to get a good angle to use said device. Those of us sitting are perched on kid-sized benches and it's about 85 degrees in the room. It's actually quite uncomfortable, but aren't the kids darling?

3) Bought tickets for our trip to California in late Spring. It's a vacation/work split (thankfully more vacation than work). We can't wait. Dietrich's got a "to-do in America" list hanging on the fridge. So far, it's entirely a list of treats he wants to consume. He's so our child.

We used Vayama to buy the tickets. Their customer reviews online are pretty poor, so we're expecting great hassles if anything about our tickets needs to change. However, we saved about $250 per ticket off the KLM site's price for the same itinerary, so we're chancing it.

4) Spent a morning with Mama Rist and her three kids. The Rists are another expat family serving at Kyiv Theological Seminary, and their house is Dietrich's idea of heaven. They have two boys who are a bit older than him, so they have a great toy selection. Plus they are super nice boys who share very, very well. Plus they have a charming, also fun-to-play-with older sister, who can keep an eye on the boys while the moms drink coffee. (Oh, wait, that's why it's MY idea of heaven.)

5) Dealt with a very difficult day at sadik. Dietrich was constantly pestering us to let him bring a toy to sadik. "All the kids do it," he claimed. So, we checked and, sure enough, all the kids do it. Problem was (and we really should have anticipated this), Dietrich only wanted to share the toy he brought with one little girl. ("I shared with Dasha, because she's Sasha's girlfriend and Sasha was sick, so I wanted to help Sasha by taking care of Dasha.") To Dietrich, this meant he SHARED for Pete's sake. Plus, he was watching out for his best buddy's main squeeze. (Sasha, by the way, is the blue male dwarf.)

To everyone else, including the teachers, this meant Dietrich was unwilling to share. Also, he refused to eat. So, bad day.

But the next two days were awesome. Dietrich behaved perfectly. He also ate, without having to be fed every bite. He totally bounced back, and we are so glad to see that he is able to put a bad day behind him and move on. Yay for crucial-life-skill acquisition!

Lev's become a standing machine. He holds on with just one hand. He stands in his crib and works his way from one end to the other. And, when he's not standing, he's busy flopping on his belly, rolling back onto his rump, back to belly, over to back ... you get the picture.

He totally gets around. And yet, he does not crawl. He still relies on his pushup/lunge combo, which is quick, but not as quick as "real" crawling. But don't tell him that! I'm enjoying the ease of being able to beat him to the door, even when I have to take the time to wash raw chicken juices off my hands. These pictures are from late December, but nothing has changed.







Warning: Potty talk ahead. Literally. You might want to stop reading now.

Eric really had the hardest week. In addition to attending all those meetings, he had to carry Dietrich's poop to school. All the kids had to bring in a stool sample on Monday or Tuesday morning (we assume to check for worms, though we don't know for certain).

We have needed to do this enough times here that we've developed quite an efficient routine for the actual collection bit. It involves aluminum foil and plastic spoons. Normally, the sample is delivered in a matchbox wrapped in newspaper, but D's school specified that a small glass jar should be used. I did have to google how to store the sample overnight, and found this (probably unnecessary) step on ehow.com:

"Refrigerate the container with the stool sample. Place it in a brown paper bag to avoid viewing when in the refrigerator and prevent food contamination."

Really? A brown paper bag is necessary for preventing fecal food contamination? I suspect the people who wrote "to avoid viewing when in the refrigerator" were embarrassed to have to write something so obvious, so they added a "scientific" reason, too.

Stay tuned for next week, when we learn that plastic wrap cures the common cold ...

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 …