Tales from Middle Earth

Our little guys sometimes do the silliest things, acting like they're from another planet.  I made some observations at the dinner table recently, however, and now I believe that actually they are just characters from a fantasy classic.

On weekends they become Hobbits, requesting and then joyously chowing through breakfast, followed by second breakfast, then elevensies, lunch, tea, and supper.  I often check their feet for hair growth.

They exhibit altogether different behaviour some evenings after picking them up from school, particularly on Mondays or when there had been cabbage in the lunch.  I NEED TO EAT.  WON'T WALK UNTIL I AM FED.  RIGHT NOW.  NOW.  FEED ME WANT WANT WANT.  I provide expedient crackers to avert the otherwise-inevitable public meltdown... and watch my little Orcs tear them apart two at a time and demand more.

And then there's evenings when they just don't seem to have much interest in food.  Under extreme parental urging, they will grimly make their way through the minimum-acceptable amount, attitudes like Dwarves faced with another dinner of cram... that they clearly believe that this is 'more of a chewing exercise' than an enjoyable eating experience.

Fittingly, Hobbiton is only about four hours south of us, and Mordor another hour beyond that.

It was all worth it, for this!

We took Amiri to the doctor this week (nothing serious).  He was worried, of course, about getting a shot.  But nothing scary happened, and when it was all done, he was taken to the ice cream shop!

Arram can dish it out too

They are singing either 'Ring Around the Rosy' or 'Dancing Queen'.  I can't quite tell.   ABBA has been very popular at school lately.

He just HAD to go and complain

Urban exploration

Some workmen were doing some maintenance up on our building's roof recently.  We discovered that they'd left the service stairwell open and unlocked.  Since that's pretty much an invitation to go poking around, that's exactly what I did.

The roof has a walkway all around the perimeter and a nice view of the harbour.  This is what we'd see if we lived across the hall.  The roof isn't, unfortunately, suitable for family fireworks-viewing.

Then I went down the stairwell to see where it came out.  It turns out that we're linked with the service alley behind all the kitchens of the restaurants in our building.  Neat.

I didn't take any pictures during this adventure, but Amiri will fill you in.

Spring is here!

I woke up the other morning and the air had that wonderful springtime smell.  It smelled green and warm and fresh.  Wonderful.  I realised that I haven't smelled that in years, because you miss out on springtime in SoCal.

So at lunchtime, in between all the rain showers, I took a nice walk around to look at the signs of spring.  There are buds on the trees.

Lillies are blooming.

And see the tiiiiiny little flowers starting to appear on the wintry-mossy trees?

Wet curls

Look at how our big boy's curls transform into springy little ringlets when his hair is wet.   Bathtime fun!

The call of the Red-Throated Ringtone

Today while walking outdoors in the suburbs, my phone let me know that I had a new text message.  Brrrrr-tink!  My phone was all the way in my backpack; ehhh, I'll let it go a few minutes, I thought, until I arrive at my destination.

Then, Brrrrr-tink!  Brrrrr-tink!  Brrrrr-tink!  Well, it must be something important if I'm getting four in a row...  So I wrestled open my backpack, scrabbled around for a while in the middle of the sidewalk, and finally fished the phone out.

The phone which had no new texts.

I pondered this paradox, staring dumbly at the phone.   Inexplicably outsmarted by technology.  Again.

And then I got another text.  Brrrrr-tink!  Curiously, my phone stayed quiet and dark.  And even more curiously, the sound came from the nearby tree. 

I looked and looked, but I couldn't find the culprit, even though he called several more times.  I wonder if that is his usual call or if he's a mimic.

Arram tests out the new torch

so that he can check for monsters under the bed.   In a few years.

 

But what are they really like?

I've written often on the topic of 'what New Zealanders are like'.  But I got to wondering, what do New Zealanders think of Americans?

So I put this question to some work mates during lunch.  They exchanged glances and grinned-- I could tell they had some answers ready and waiting!  Their interactions with Americans have primarily been with tourists, on NZ soil, so it should be noted that their opinions largely reflect the way that relatively affluent Americans behave while on vacation.

Before revealing anything, though, they made certain to assure me that I wasn't the 'typical American' and that none of these things applied to me, personally.  Thanks guys, that's nice of you and I won't get offended, now make with the stereotypes...


---Americans are loud.  They are much more inclined to shout or to bellow laughter.  Even in a 'normal' tone of voice, Americans' voices are tens of decibels louder than they need to be, and carry for long distances.

Personal reflection:  Do the Kiwis have a point?  Yes.  This is true!  Early on, I noticed that I was much louder in meetings or on the phone than anyone around me.  I have made a effort to keep my voice down.  My office mate nicely acknowledged that my volume has indeed become more pleasant in recent months.  Funny, I never would have thought of myself as 'loud'...  (Arram, though... that noisy little kid is CLEARLY an American!)

---Americans are crass.  They'll discuss bodily functions or reveal sensitive personal information anywhere, any time, and they don't really care who hears.

Also true.  The last time I was out on the sidewalk doing errands, I overheard a young guy telling his buddy about last night's conquest, in great detail.  I realised that I hadn't randomly overheard that kind of talk in a while, and then I realised that the guys were Americans.  But as a counterpoint, I think it's rather odd that NZers would consider American conversations as crass, whilst Americans see the commonly-accepted level of nudity and cursing on NZ TV as scandalous. 

---Americans aren't capable of having fun without it being scheduled.  They can't just find themselves in a situation and find a way to enjoy it.  This is why 'vacation packages' and tour guides are so popular with Americans.  It gives them a structure and a-plan-for-fun, within which they are able to let loose a little and enjoy themselves.

Although I don't think I agree that this is widespread enough to generalise to all Americans, this one actually provoked a little introspection on my part.  Now that you mention it, I DO tend to feel a little guilty unless I'm being 'productive', and I DO tend to schedule Fun, rather than being fully engaged in the little moments that arise organically.  So I'll watch that.  Thanks, NZ, for the psychotherapy!

---Americans wear track suits and runners everywhere.

It's probably just confirmation bias that I'm noticing this everywhere now that I've thought of it, but yes, it does seem to be the case that most of the examples of sweatpants and athletic shoes I've seen outside of a exercise scenario have been worn by Americans.

Evidence of Motherhood

While at work:

Opening your laptop bag, and a toy falls out.

Whatever your wardrobe, having at least one spot of dried drool, milk, snot, or food on it.

Mixed in with your TPS reports are kids' pictures.

Finding remnants of your son's sticky peanut butter goodbye kiss on your cheek.

Did you know that citrus trees grow here?

Look! Pukekos!

One of the charming local birds is the pukeko*.  It's a mostly-flightless bird with lots of personality.  I say mostly-flightless because they're kind of like chickens... they CAN fly, but they don't do it well and can't go very far.  Fifty years ago, they were nearly endangered, but have made a great comeback.  Now they live all over in the bush, and venture into the suburbs as well.  They like to take up residence in backyards that have apple trees:  eating the apples on the ground during the day and roosting in the trees at night.  And noisily chasing each other.  They're fun. 

I saw a family of them gallivanting around in the field by work.  I scurried over to the fence to watch them cavort and to take photos with my phone.  One of my coworkers laughed and laughed that I would be so amused by something so simple.  Like a tourist.

I managed to take the world's worst photo of one of the little fellas.  It's so bad it looks like an expressionist painting, with no photoshop needed.  Ha.  But at least you can see his red head, blue/black body, white rump, and spindly legs.

A power company here has a commercial with pukekos and I LOVE it.



*POO-kih-ko

Happy Father's Day!

You're all thinking, 'What?  She's confused... Father's Day was months ago!'

Not here it isn't!  In Australia/New Zealand (maybe other countries too, I don't know), Father's Day is the first Sunday in September, not the third in June.  Mother's Day is the same, though, so go figure.

Amiri made his Daddy a card at school, and on Friday they had a Father's Breakfast during drop-off time complete with scones that the children made themselves.  Amiri and Arram also signed a card for their Daddy at home-- Amiri only needed help with the R, while Arram eschewed the oppression of script altogether and gleefully scribbled across the Hallmark poetry.

An earthquake but don't worry

If you're watching the news or on CNN you've probably seen that there was a 7.0 earthquake in Christchurch. 

That's far away from us and on the South Island.  We didn't even feel it here.  And there's no tsunami.  We're safe.

The local news is showing pictures of a lot of crumbled brick in the street.   Apparently one or two below-code buildings collapsed.  Authorities are urging people to take precautions, like conserving water, and are checking to make sure that city utilities are still OK.

But there are no reports of injuries, and it appears that 99.9% of the damage was just cosmetic-- broken crockery and the like.  The precautions are just that, precautions.

People were frightened at the time, of course, since it came in the early morning and startled most people awake.  But now people seem to be dealing with it in the usual matter-of-fact Kiwi way.  Earthquakes happen here; it's not their first time at the dance.  Regular life is proceeding along its normal way, and people have gone out to pick up debris as part of their Saturday morning chores.   They'll replace their cracked crockery and everything will go back to normal.

Arcs galore

I have never in my life seen so many rainbows as I have in Auckland!  Maybe it's because it rains so often here.  My favorites are ones like these, where they're a full 180 degrees.  And then the BEST is when you can see where they end.  Where the color extends down all the way and ends right on Fanshawe Street.  Gorgeous.

Baby, go to time out!

I mentioned Arram's Time Out Chair a while back.   Now that he has some capacity for self-reflection, he has to sit by himself for one minute when he misbehaves.  This usually happens a couple of times a day.  As a result, he hasn't bitten me in over a month, and has considerably reduced both the frequency and duration of his whining.  Yay, time out!

Amiri is familiar with the time out procedure, of course, having gone through the process himself.  These days he's quite good at regulating his behaviour and is rarely sent away in disgrace to think about what he's done.

So now he's taken it upon himself to apply this staple of gentle parental discipline to his little brother.

The scene this afternoon:

Arram spots a treat on the counter.  He communicates his interest in the treat by screaming for it.  Seriously, I think the neighbors are alerted to the existence of the treat.

Arram:  *Winds himself up for yet another high-volume round of ear-piercing shrieks*

Dad:  Arram, no whining.  Tell me what you want nicely.

Arram:  *Shrieks like an air siren*

Dad:  Arram!  We don't whine.  Stop yelling so that Daddy can hear what you want.

Amiri, from across the room and self-important:  Arram, listen to Daddy!

Arram:  *Shrieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

Amiri:  Baby, go to time out!

Arram:  *Continues bellowing but trots obediently to his time out chair and sits down.*

Amiri:  When you stop whining you can come out.

Arram:  *A few more experimental hollers, then a couple of hiccups, then quiet.*

Amiri:  OK, you can come out.  Come here.

Arram:  *Stands up and goes to his brother.*

Amiri:  Good job stopping crying.  Don't whine any more.   OK?    Now give me a hug.

Arram:  *Nods his head, hugs his brother*

Mom and Dad:  *Exchanging wondering glances while watching this whole interaction*

Amiri:  Now go TELL Daddy what you want.

Arram:  *Returns to kitchen, points at the treat, looks hopefully up at Daddy.*   "Dat.  Dat dat dat?"

Daddy:  You want the banana?  You asked very nicely so you can have it.  Thank you for asking nicely.  Here, you can hold the whole thing and eat it by yourself. 


We don't want to encourage Amiri to get too enthusiastic about meting out the discipline, so we simply acknowledged that he was nice to his brother.  Later that night, though, after the kids went to bed, we were all, "Did you see that??!"  "I KNOW!  I couldn't believe it!   He did it just right!"  "And the best part?  It WORKED!!"