Seven Days in Kyiv: Weeks 26-28

A lot happened in these three weeks, but of course I waited to long to write it all down, so who knows what precious memories are lost forever?

Anyhow ... I do recall that the Talbot session continued -- it was the last session for the five students who will be graduating in May. At the end of the session, they gave Eric, Edik and Vova sauna hats with funny sayings written on them, and made a presentation to their co-students. They showed them a beautiful rose, then chopped off the flower part and encouraged them to persevere through the program so that they, too, can bloom.

We took advantage of Eric's one week off between Talbot and his theology class to have friends over a couple of times. Of course, one of the nights that we invited friends over, a last-minute sadik meeting was called, so we had to scramble to change plans. Sadik strikes again!

Lev took his first half step on March 29! His feet were unevenly placed, and he picked one up and brought it in line with the other. Actual forward movement has yet to be achieved. But look, I finally got a picture of him standing!



I met with an accredited lactation consultant to explore the idea of being trained to serve as a peer counselor. (Bet you didn't know this was a secret dream of mine.) I'd be able to help with some breastfeeding issues, and would be trained on when to refer a struggling mom and baby to someone more educated. I think I'm going to do it! But not until the fall.

We sprang forward (two weeks later than in America), and Lev tried to use the opportunity to drop down to one nap. I fought back (and I think I won).

We discovered the secret to entertaining Lev for 30 minutes: A small trickle of water in an otherwise empty bath. Here he is making my favorite Lev face.



Dietrich recognized a word in a book, and started involving books in his play time. I'm excited about this mostly because I've already started a reading program with him, but, in all honesty, he wasn't exhibiting all the signs of being ready to read. Specifically, he didn't WANT to learn, as he told me over and over. "You can just read to me, mom," he reasoned. The program starts with writing letters and practicing their sounds, so he doesn't yet know that he's learning to read, and now I feel encouraged that, by the time he figures it out, he'll be on board. Here's his name, or, if you prefer: "Die hcirt." (Not really sure what hcirt did to deserve death. It must have been pretty bad.)



Dietrich has also refined his Uno-playing technique. He beats us with embarrassing frequency. Here are some Uno action shots.




I started Harvest Heartbeat; Eric started teaching theology.

Lev's stepped into that phase where toys are boring, but everyday household items are fascinating ...





... and he's still super cute.





Eric spent a lot of time in meetings pertaining to the selection of a new area director for our team. And the process continues.

We made a chain to count down the days before we leave for America. Good idea, except for how we always forget to take a link down at dinner.



Dietrich finally fulfilled his dream of climbing into the playpen WITH Lev.





Actually, the boys are playing together more and more. And by "playing," I mean wrestling.






And, most significantly, Baby Betty was born. We're over the moon about her, but her arrival sent me into a period of unexpected sadness. It was so difficult for me to miss visiting her in the hospital or holding her when she was just an hour old. There's just something about being involved in someone's life from the very beginning that is precious.


Uncle Sam and Aunt Jit, aka Betty's mom and dad, meeting Dietrich.

One thing I loved about Betty's arrival was the slow rollout of information about her. First we got this e-mail: "Baby is here name TK no drugs five pounds fourteen Jit is healthy and so is TK woohoo." (TK means "to come" in newspaper speak.)

The next day: A name.

A few days after that: A middle name.

And then, Betty's mom started blogging about Betty like, a lot. Hooray!

It's been so fun to have more and more of TK to look forward to.

Thankfully, we will get to see Baby Betty soon. Dietrich is convinced that she is ours, so we'll see how he reacts when we leave America without Betty in tow.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Week 25

In honor of International Women's Day, Dietrich had Monday and Tuesday off of school. (Tuesday was the official holiday, and school-aged children had to make up for Monday's day off by going to school on Saturday. But that's still a few years in the future for us.) D was thrilled to have extra time to stay home and work on his "projects" (i.e. setting up cars and action figures in very particular ways, and noticing if anymore dares to move them even a tiny bit).

As an aside, I love watching Dietrich's creativity blossom. My favorite aspect at the moment is the way he can look at any collection of creatures, and see them as the characters he wants them to be. So, for instance:


This is, in order, Daddy, Dietrich, Mommy, Lev.


This is, top row: Larry Boy, Alfred, Junior Asparagus. Bottom: The Fib from Outer Space.

He only has two lions, so one is Mufasa and one is Simba. But, of course, he needs the villan — Scar. So, a crocodile plays the part of Scar.

Once he gets an "actual" creature, he stops imagining it. He has an actual Spiderman, for instance, so only that action figure can play the part of Spiderman, unless Spiderman gets taken away, in which case he can revert to imagination. Fascinating (at least to me).

Have I mentioned that we've started an English-language curriculum with Dietrich? It's called "Sing, Spell, Read and Write." So far, we're just writing (and coloring and cutting and pasting, all of which seemed rather unrelated to me and I almost skipped them, but then figured there must be some developmental benefit to learning to cut in a straight line). Monday was big C.



Also, Lev continued to be sick.



(Is it mean to post this picture? Doesn't he look like he wants to beat me up? And probably could?)

The Talbot session started this week, plus having Dietrich home those two days totally threw me off, so my brain stopped fully functioning. How else can you explain that I forgot:

1) To pick up a computer that one of the guys from our small group was loaning to Vova, who works with the Talbot program here. So, after I got home from small group, poor Eric had to go out late at night and get the computer.

2) My wallet, when grocery shopping.

3) The fact that I would be away at leadership retreat all day Friday and Saturday. (Which made it pointless for Lev's nanya to come on Friday, as scheduled. So I only got one morning of work in, and I had to devote it to a project that I wanted to have done in February, for Pete's sake. Still working on adjusting my expectations now that our family has grown.)

SEND Ukraine's area director is moving back to the States to take a different position with SEND. So, our team soon will be voting for a new director. Since Eric is on our area leadership committee, he and four other men are in charge of narrowing down the candidates. SEND also has asked a wider team of leaders to work together to define what "success" would look like for SEND Ukraine. How can we tell we're doing our jobs, and doing them well?

The leadership retreat was designed to give us the chance to spend some time mostly doing fun stuff together before the hard work began. The complex we stayed at has bowling, a water park and go-carts. And coffee! Though I try to shy away from gender norms, I did notice that the women spent a lot of their time chatting over cups of coffee while the men were shooting each other in laser tag. During the final couple of hours of the retreat, meetings began. And, when we got home from the retreat, they continued, into the evening.

While Eric, Lev and I were away, Dietrich stayed with Miss Lois. When I called to check on him Friday night, I mentioned that we'd be back the next day. "But mama," he said. "Tomorrow is still a weekend, and you said I could have a special Miss Lois WEEKEND." Clearly, he was having a good time.

Sunday, we were all healthy (or relatively so) for once, so we all went to church, and then Eric left to take the visiting Talbot professor on a tour of downtown Kyiv. Eric's got that tour pretty much down to a science, by now -- come visit, and we'll take you on it, too!

While Eric was gone, I got to see Lev's new trick: Independent standing! Eric saw him do it one time on Friday, but he didn't show off for me until Sunday. Man was he ever CUTE. He was holding on to the radiator (they don't get too hot), then he'd let go for a second, then grab on, then repeat. When I noticed and rushed over full of excitement, he was just beside himself with joy. One of those moments that I wish I had on video, but instead I'll try to keep in lodged in that forgetful mind of mine.

Seven Days in Kyiv: Weeks 23-24

I have 21 minutes until my momma's helper leaves. Plus a pot of milk on the stove (first step in making yoghurt). So, let's do this quickly, shall we? And let's not forget about the milk!

Three big events encapsulate this two-week period.

First, Luba started coming to watch Lev. Ah, Lev. Still sweet as can be. But, more and more determined. More and more destructive. And less and less sleepy. So, Luba to the rescue. She will come two mornings a week, and on those days, I will go to the seminary and work ON THE COMPUTER for two-and-a-half uninterrupted hours. Two mornings a week, I will cook and clean. And one morning a week, I hope to spend with someone else -- another mom, a friend, an older-and-wiser woman, a younger-and-wiser woman.

Of course, that's dreamland. Here in realityland, the boys and I got so sick that on her second week of work, she took care of one sick boy while I took care of the other. Which was extremely helpful. And then she stepped in to save my bacon by watching Lev when Dietrich's teacher suggested I not bring him to the upcoming school show (more on that later).

Second, we celebrated Defender of the Fatherland Day. There was a meeting on Monday night to determine what the boys would get on Wednesday morning for this holiday. It was scheduled exactly at Lev's mealtime, so Eric went in my stead. (Bummer, 'cuz I love the parents' meetings!) The decision was this:



As the mother of a mobile 9-month-old, I look at this and see a compilation of small, cheaply made plastic parts. Dietrich? Loves it. He loves it so much that he never lets it leave this windowsill, in order to protect it from the mobile 9-month-old. Actually, Dietrich has very naturally moved all his playthings up and out of Lev's reach, without us ever needing to tell him. I'm not sure about defending the Fatherland, but Dietrich certainly knows how to defend his toys.

Third, we had another show at sadik, this time to celebrate International Women's Day. March 8 is actually a public holiday (no school), so D's school celebrated on March 4. The girls all got shiny pink packages of glittery makeup or something (it's a good thing I have boys), the moms all got cards, the teachers all got flowers, and Dietrich said a poem in Ukrainian for the first time. Best gift ever.



The literal translation of this poem had us in stitches all week. It goes:

Darling mother,
I kiss you,
And say quietly:
"You are my relative."

In Ukrainian, the "you are my relative" bit connotes far deeper feelings!

All the other kids were clambering to get their picture taken. Dietrich, not so much. The little girl in the purple, the one in every photo, lives a few floors above us. Her grandma is not shy and often helps me figure out how to successfully live here.




And, for the grandparents, here's one with the tie AND a smile.


Hooray! I remembered the milk, so it's off to make yogurt to feed this little face.

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: