And it was Triple Chocolate, to show you just how generous he was

Amiri was a good boy recently, so he was rewarded at home with a big ice cream cone.  Oh, he loved it so much!

Then Arram turned up and wondered what his big brother was doing.

And Amiri was SUCH a good boy that he willingly shared with him!

Some of my favorite things

Nice coffees.  New Zealanders are serious about their coffees; you can get a really proper coffee at nearly any cafe.

Or enjoying a plate of Kapiti cheeses-- here we have brie, havarti, and bleu, and some purple grapes.  

 

But my favorite favorite thing is going out for pizza with a charming gentleman...

Or enjoying a walk with another gentleman friend.

I have to sound them out just like Amiri

Many towns and landmarks in New Zealand have native names.  They almost sound cartoonish to me at first, when they're pronounced fast.  It's actually rather straightforward to sound them out, though.  Here are the rules:

• Every letter is pronounced
• Exceptions (because Kiwi is a lazy-mouth accent)
• au = prounounced like 'oh'
• ao = pronounced like 'ow'
• ei= pronounced like 'ay'
• wh= pronounced like an 'f' sound
• The accent is usually on the first syllable

And here are some of the towns in our vicinity.  Have fun with them!

• Pukekohe
• Papakura
• Wanganui
• Te Papapa
• Manurewa
• Takanini
• Waitakere
• Remuera
• Manukau
• Whangarei
• Papatoetoe (my personal favorite, it makes me smile when I hear the announcements over the loudspeaker in the train station)

We know it's ridiculous

Now that Arram is a good walker, and also very clever about opening things, he gets up to more and more complex examples of mischief.

Just having a nice bottle of milk, right?  Think again.

No, it's a squeeze bottle of mayonnaise.

He toddles over to the fridge and opens it up, pulls the mayo bottle out of the door, scoots back into the living room, and pretends to drink from it.  (It's closed, and clean, so he's not actually ingesting any.)  Silly little boy.  He could at least close the fridge afterward.

As Amiri would say, "Funny Arram."

Footie jammies

One of the AWESOME reasons to have kids is that you get to dress them in footie pajamas and take pictures of them.

Happy Birthday Liz

We have the day off from work/school today!  It's the Queen's birthday, a public holiday here.  Her actual birthday is in April, but there's always been a winter celebration for a monarch's 'birthday', so I guess there always will be.  I think it's just an excuse to have a day off.

They succeeded in making me feel slightly guilty for liking it

We got the best burgers the other night.  The place was called Murder Burger.  The staff all wore shirts saying 'Meat is Murder'.  And happily serving up big meaty slabs.  Yeah, they were really good.

He just teethed two new molars. You wouldn't know it from this smile.

More speaking Kiwi

• Chokka: As in chock-a-block, meaning full or busy. “I’m tired. My day was chokka!”
• College: A private or upscale high school. “I’m in year ten at Queen’s College.”
• Ta: Bye. or OK.  or Yep.
• You sneeze.  The other person says: "      ."
• Diary: Schedule book or calendar. “OK, I’ll meet you next Tuesday at 3 PM. I’ve written it in my diary so I won’t forget.”
• It suits you: Wow, you look really nice!
• Good on you: Good for you.
• Uni: Where you study after high school. “I’m going to uni at Auckland University.”
• That's all right: You're welcome.
• Are you happy to...: Please do this task for me.
• Aircon: A heatpump with both heating and cooling functions. “It’s a [chilly/hot] morning, shall we turn on the aircon?”
• Aye: I agree—“Aye, let’s go to the store.” Or Do you agree?—“Let’s go to the store, aye?”
• Poor sausage: Pitiable wretch. “The computer just crashed and you lost your document? You poor sausage.”

I like the light in this one

The New Zealand yam

The selection at the farmer's market was kind of sparse this weekend, so I took a thorough look through the produce section at the grocery store.   On the top shelf was a cardboard box filled with these bad boys.  I did a double take, because my first thought was 'OMG tropical grubs'.    There was no label on them to help me out.  A fruit?  Some sort of spice?  Maybe a tuber.  Well, that's what Google is for, I thought, and I put one in my basket.

It rang up on the receipt as 'Yam, $0.38'.  Googling told me that they are New Zealand Yams.  Only called that within NZ, though... the rest of the world would call them oca.  They're a type of potato, one of the thousands of varieties eaten throughout Peru.

I boiled my oca up in a little salted water.  It sloughed off its skin as it cooked (Eek!  it IS a grub!) and also lost its brilliant red color, ending up a golden pink.  Its texture was potato-like, but slightly sweeter.  Maybe like a rutabaga, except pleasant.  Its ends, which were a little more red than the rest of it, had a tangy flavor.

That Mom trick of licking your finger and then wiping a smudge off your child’s face? Yeah. I’ve done that too.

You learn a new vocabulary when you become a parent.  Suddenly you live in a world where you use odd words like ‘onesie’ and ‘bouncer’, and can describe your kid’s poop with ten different adjectives and a straight face. 

Parenting a toddler also requires some linguistic modification.  Instead of new words, though, this new phase involves sentence construction through the apposition of words that I never thought I’d use together.

·         Is there pee on that towel?

·         Don’t be scared; flies are happy!

·         Underwear goes on first.

·         Bath water isn’t for drinking.

·         Take that bread off your foot.

(say it fast.)

So at every grocery store and butcher shop here, you've got your...

Mince beef

Mince chicken

Mince lamb

And now, new from Arnott's...

Couch time!

A cuddly morning in Mom and Dad's bed

The flash on the camera made them close their eyes.  They were very playful and huggy.

Haka

Writing about the All Blacks made me think of another bit of New Zealand trivia for you.

Maori have a style of dance called Haka.  It's performed by groups of men, women, or children, and can be done for fun, celebration, or welcome.  The dances involve lots of posturing with knees and elbows akimbo, rhythmic chanting and slapping of chests/thighs, and facial contortions like showing the whites of one's eyes and sticking out the tongue.  A vaguely creepy version of a hula dance.

There is also a war haka.  Fur-clad, be-speared, facially-tattooed warriors performed this prior to going into battle, preferably with their opponents worriedly watching from a distance.  The odd postures and unsettling facial expressions are exaggerated relative to a non-violent haka.  Lyrics are aggressive and delivered loudly in an antagonistic style.  The idea is to suggest to the other guys that they might wanna re-think their plans, because they're dealing with some guys who are not only awfully big, but also clearly crazy and will not be fooling around with this business of fighting.

Fittingly for their game strategy of 'winning isn't enough, we want the opponents to have to be carried off the field,' the All Blacks perform a haka prior to every rugby match.  So the French team or whoever stand there on the field with nothing to do but watch while these oddball New Zealanders go off their meds in front of them.  I bet a '1-2-3-GO TEAM' doesn't quite fire you up the same way after seeing that. 

Arram's accomplishment!

It was coming down sideways

Twenty minutes before the end of my workday, the skies opened up and it poured buckets.  Curses!  It's going to be a long walk to the train station.  But it's OK, I reassured myself, I have an umbrella and a jacket in my backpack--I always carry them.

So as I packed up for the evening, changing my shoes to sneakers a la Mr. Rogers, I reached for my jacket.  Whoops, not there.  No matter, my umbrella is in here, just a little lower, just.. need.. to... find it... what the?  No umbrella either.  Yeah.  Not a good day to have been absent-minded in the morning.

It really WAS a long walk to the train station.  Oh well.  It was refreshing, yeah, that's it.  And I haven't been made of sugar for quite some time, so I didn't melt.

And on the way home, I watched a really bright double rainbow.

Sports

If you know me, you know that I don't exactly follow professional sports.  So this blog post represents absolutely everything I know about NZ sports.  And some of it may be wrong, because I am unable to summon the motivation to fact-check.  Here we go.

Soccer is called soccer here.  You can enroll kids as young as 18 months in soccer classes.

Nobody plays basketball.  If you must toss a ball in the air, you play netball.  Netball hoops have no backboards, and there are some different rules about traveling or dribbling or something.  

Rugby is THE sport.  It is a rough game played without helmets or other safety equipment, and as a result, NZ has a higher proportion of sports-related brain injuries than most other countries.  It involves a chunky oblong white ball that must be moved to either end of a field by large, fast men trying to murder each other.  THE team in NZ is the All Blacks.   They were originally called 'The Originals' (how original).  But then a complimentary article on the sports page said that every member of the team was equivalently murderous as the depraved animals playing the kill position:  they were 'all backs'.  An unfortunate typo later, the name stuck.

Cowboys!

Check out our little cow pokes!

Nothing too exciting here, but couldn't you just hug them.

The meat pie!

I can't believe I've done all those food posts without including the meat pie!  Here's a fine example.  They're always this shape, always this nice-little-solid-handful size.  Flaky crust, and fillings all soft suspended inside a gooey gravy.  This one is steak and cheese. 

Take that, kiwano.

New pajamas!

Made of 'wincey cotton', whatever that means.  Fluffy fabric, I guess?

Amiri got polar bears and snowflakes.  Arram got dinosaurs.  They were happy and hugged.  They will be nice and warm at night.

Maybe he needs a little work on his pronunciation, but he's got the right idea.

Happy Mother's Day to me!

The nice thing about having kids in school is the precious bits of junk that they make for me during arts and crafts time.  Today, the Friday before Mother's Day, they went all out.

They both cooked for me!  Amiri helped make a batch of cookies from scratch, and then he spread frosting to make them into sandwich cookies for me.   Arram's class made scones, and I saw a photo of him concentrating really hard while dumping the cup of sugar into the big bowl.  Then the treats were wrapped up nicely and proudly presented at pick-up time.

Amiri also made me an awesome card.  Unfortunately, the picture of his face fell off.  Arram found it on the floor.  As is his wont to do with his brother's art projects, he tried to eat it and I had to fish it out of his mouth.

Now THAT'S tired

We had a very big day of exercise outside.  Amiri needed to use the potty upon arriving home.  But he was so worn out...

That's right, he's asleep on the toilet.

'But what of fashion,' they asked...

Remember the rat tail, also known as the Timid Mullet? 

There are a shocking number of rat tails in New Zealand.  They tend to occur in young men of Pacific Island origin, who tend to co-localise with low socioeconomic status areas.  The rat tail is clearly one of those cross-cultural universalities, if it can link residents of the South Pacific and Tennessee.

A brush with fame

I picked up the boys from daycare as usual this afternoon.  As we left, I pressed the button to open the automatic door.  Amiri asked to be lifted up to push the button, but I told him no, that the button was only for grownups.  'When will I be a grownup?' he asked.

As we left the building I explained to him.  'Grownups are over 18 years old.  So when you turn 18, you will be a grownup.  Now you're three.  So you have 15 years to go.'

A man who was also leaving daycare overheard us.  He stopped, looked at us pointedly, and asked, 'Is your son's name Amiri?'

I was a bit startled because I didn't recognise him as one of the other parents, but said yes, and asked how he knew.  He told me that his wife works in the front office at the daycare, and Amiri is famous there.  Everyone knows Amiri's name because he's unusually polite, and helpful, and smart.  He said that he and his wife had been talking about Amiri just the other day at home, after our little boy had been paraded around the office by his teacher who wanted to show him off.  Of course, he thoroughly charmed the man's wife and they'd theorized that Amiri's parents must talk to him like a little adult in order to make such a precocious little fellow.  And when he overheard my matter-of-fact explanation, and saw a 3-year old boy with curls, he put two and two together.

I told him he'd just made my day.  My mama's heart was bursting with pride!

A fine assortment of cutes

Amiri was having so much fun playing that he didn't want to stop for his nap.  Then nature intervened, and he slumped right where he was.

And then here's our little mischief-maker, after his latest accomplishment.

The kiwano

$2 for a mystery fruit at Foodtown?  Sounds like a deal to me!

Kiwanos are native to Africa, but grow very well in NZ.  They are in the melon family.  Their spines are very firm.  I bet a thrown kiwano could do some damage...which is why we kept it on a high shelf and out of monster hands until we ate it...

There it is on a small dinner plate, and sliced in half.

This tutorial suggests a squeeze-and-slurp method for consumption.  First-hand experimentation revealed that that is not the way to go, unless you LIKE picking seeds out of your hair after the kiwano explodes in your face.  Cooler heads then prevailed and the remaining kiwano was eaten in a civilised fashion, with a spoon.

Imagine if a cucumber had seeds the size and texture of watermelon seeds.  And each one was encased in a slippery packet of cucumber jelly.  That's pretty much a kiwano.  It was fine, but I didn't love it.  It seemed like more work than it's worth.

Our ANZAC day walk

We had a relaxing afternoon at the Fish Market.  Just look how relaxed Arram is.

Then we walked home along the water.  Amiri showed off his biggest dinosaur smile.

 

Arram thought it was pretty exciting and wanted to get out and pose too.

Monster quote.

Little dickens!

Amiri just mimicked something on TV and yelled aggressively at me, 'Get out of my house!'

I disapprovingly told him that that was a rude thing to say, and he shouldn't speak to his mother that way.

He immediately quieted down and said, 'Sorry, Mama.  Get out of my house, please.'

Graduation

Amiri officially started preschool today!  There were some tears of insecurity this morning, but he calmed down quickly.  His teachers told me that he was a very good boy today: sleeping well, eating well, going potty, interacting nicely.  They were very impressed with his spelling ability, as well.  (His spelling list includes 'Amiri' and 'kiwi'.)  When I arrived to pick him up, he was sitting at the table and listening to his teacher explain about waves in the ocean.  Apparently, there is a more defined curriculum for the older kids.

The only bad thing about him graduating is that he had to leave his friend behind.  He has become very close friends with a little girl in the Toddler room.  Holly has blond ringlets and just turned two--she's adorable and tiny, and Amiri is very gentle with her.  Amiri made sure to say goodbye to her tonight.  Maybe she'll graduate soon too.

It's ANZAC day!

Australian and New Zealand Army Corps Day, that is.  It's analogous to the American Memorial Day.  It was initially established to commemorate all the A/NZ boys who fought at Gallipoli, Turkey, in WWI.  Now it largely honours all veterans and occurs on April 25 every year.

It's celebrated in low-key fashion, as are all NZ holidays.  There were early-morning parades and services.  People wear poppies on their lapels.  By law businesses can only be open from 1-5 pm, at the maximum, so it was quiet on the streets.  The weather was beautiful, a gorgeous fall day.  We all took a walk.  What a nice day.

ANZAC foods are popular at the grocery stores just now, as you can imagine.  ANZAC trail mix has mixed nuts, chocolate chips, and lots of super-sweet, fluorescent-bright dried fruits.  ANZAC biscuits are crunchy bits of coconut and oatmeal.  Both are wonderful.

Debriefing after the fire drill

Also regarding lawn care

My office mate told me that if your lawn gets away from you and it grows very long, you should cut it like hay in big armfuls, and then take it to the zoo and give it to the animals.  The zoo will let you take home all the free 'fertilizer' you want, in exchange.

Presenting: Amiri! Live in Concert!

What we worked on tonight.

Oh boy, tonight was a big night!



And then, a few minutes later...


I am SO PROUD of our little guy.

He's been creeping around while holding onto furniture for what seems like forever, but never taking the next step, as it were, to walking on his own.  But he changed that overnight and is now a superstar!

(PS, we did not get a peacock for a pet.  Those sounds in the background are Amiri having an exciting game of Pretend.)

Lawn care

Today the landscaping guy was doing a THOROUGH job of cutting the grass outside the office.  It got me thinking about how Kiwi lawns are different than American lawns.  Well, Californian lawns.  Well, rich peoples' Californian lawns.

For one thing, the grass here isn't some engineered hybrid bought with the intent to instill envy in one's neighbours.  Kiwi grass is hardy and native and making do with what it has, co-existing with the weeds because hey, they're not bothering anyone.  Grass just IS, it HAPPENS, it is not perceived as a commodity to be leveraged into status.  If it goes brown, so be it.  It's just grass.  It's for playing on, and walking on, and for sheep to eat.

As I mentioned, there are plenty of landscaping companies here who will come over to do your trimming.  The one my office uses is run by a white guy (come on, when's the last time you saw that in Cali?), and he seems to like his work, as evidenced by the time he spends puttering about at it.  Come to think of it, his job description is actually pretty straightforward-- cutting grass.  I've never seen a sprinkler system or even any obviously-fertilized lawns.

Arram is clearly up to some mischief

As an example of mischief-making, this afternoon Arram opened the dishwasher, pulled out a plate, and dropped it on the tile floor where it shattered.  He was grabbing for another one by the time I arrived to scoop him up out of there.

Tax time

Tax day is nearly upon us.  We haven't done ours yet... haven't even sorted out our documents.  Luckily, the IRS grants an automatic 2-month extension to ex-pat citizens, without us even having to apply for it.  Whew!

NZers don't do their taxes.  There's no need.  The system of taxation is so straightforward that unless you're self-employed or have some special circumstances, it's moot trying to 'settle up' at the end of the year.  Tax is even automatically taken out of the interest we make on our bank accounts.  Easy!

Mother-Son adventure

Amiri and I went out adventuring.  We got to the bus stop JUST in time and Amiri decided that we should sit in the front seats.

We got to the mall and since it was such a hard trip to get there (sarcasm, that), we had to start out with a nice snack.  Amiri got a small ice cream cone with a face made of m&ms and sprinkles for hair.  It took him like 45 minutes to eat it but he loved every second.

We went to Pumpkin Patch to take advantage of the sale and did lots of shopping for nice warm pants and fuzzy shirts for the upcoming winter.  Now our little guys will look sharp and feel comfortable.

On the bus ride home, Amiri did an experiment and we sat in the very back seat.  And we sang every verse of 'Ten Little Monkeys'.  And walking back is when he called me Sweetheart.  We had a good day.

Amusing words

Arram uses three words consistently:  Mama, Dada, and Uh-oh.  Every morning, he wakes us up by throwing his teddy bear at our heads (his crib is next to our bed) and yelling, 'Uh oh!  Uh oh!  Uh oh!'  He's also very good at saying Mama and Dada, and uses our names for the right person.  But usually only in the context of complaining.  "I don't want to take a nap!  Mama! Mama!  Mamamamamamama!"  "Pick me up, Dada!  Dada!  Dada!  Now!"

Amiri is talking a lot more now--I guess it must be all the mental stimulation at school.  He's learned so many songs by heart and constantly makes me smile with his innocent little renditions of Old MacDonald or Itsy Bitsy Spider.   What really melted my heart, though, started yesterday.  We were having a nice day together and I peppered my sentences to him with pet names... 'Here comes the bus, sweetheart, get ready.'  'Please hold my hand and we can go over there, sweetheart.'   

He picked up on it and began calling me sweetheart too.  'Mama sweetheart, I go see?'  'I have some, sweetheart?'  'Look sweetheart, I run fast!'  So silly and sweet.

Independent verification

When I picked Amiri up at school this afternoon, his teacher told me that he's been doing well lately, being very friendly and social with the other kids.  I said, 'I'm glad to hear that.  I know he likes it here.  And he can be standoffish at first, so I'm glad he's joining in now.'

She nodded and we both looked fondly at the little guy for a second.  She started to say something, then paused, and then just said it.  'He really like to play with the girls, in particular.  He runs around with them and tries to make them laugh.'  Which made me laugh, because I know how that little guy is... he loves him some ladies, all right...  and she admitted that she and the other teachers had fun watching him at his games today, calling him the 'class flirt'.

Sweet sleeper

Ponsonby spa

A while back, I took one of my (many) days off and walked to Ponsonby.  I don't get lost any more going there.  Ponsonby Road reminds me somewhat of Main Street in Santa Monica--lots of funky shops with character, usually higher-end.

This is one of the buildings I passed.

I went there because my considerate husband had gotten me a surprise, a day at the spa.  I had a massage, a facial, and lots of other pampering.  I was even served lunch!  It was a really lovely day.

Amiri enjoys a giant Chachacake...

And ends up rocking a Class D 'stache.

Sleepout

Back when we were apartment hunting, we checked out the whole range of apartments, just out of curiosity.  Like, what kind of apartment can you get for $1200+ a week?  Answer:  an insanely nice one.  What kind of apartment can you get for less than $100 a week?  A sleepout.

I don't know if this is another uniquely Kiwi thing, but it's certainly new to me.   A sleepout is a little cabin, maybe 2-3 meters on a side, that's built in the backyard of a family's main house.  They're wired for electricity, but have no water hookups due to NZ's odd zoning/property tax laws.   So they make a cozy little private bedroom, but the renter has to come into the main house to use the bathroom or kitchen.  Sleepout rentals usually come with the option to have meals with the family. 

Here, take a look.  'Extreme' efficiency apartments.  Kind of like living in a garden shed.  It costs more to rent a downtown carpark than one of these.

Huh.

Art and its critic

Amiri brought home these wonderful art projects from school.  A card he made himself by gluing glitter and sparkly bits onto construction paper, and an Easter basket with a real blown-out eggshell that he painted himself.  Isn't he talented?

And then I turned my back for TWO SECONDS and heard crunching.  Here's the scene a minute later.  The tears are because I disapproved of Arram's snack and intervened to remove the eggshells from his mouth.  Amiri was hugely entertained.