Un Bel Di

Today we go home. We leave for the airport in exactly 12 hours. I am so, so happy.

Part of me is a little sad, because I know that R's family will miss the Moosh so much. The other part knows that they will be very happy to get rid of the raging bitch who won't eat anything and doesn't drink tea. She also cries a lot.

Yesterday my husband's nephews took the Moosh to the grocery store down the street where their friend works. Friend generously gave the Moosh candy, so now anytime we go outside, we have to go to the store to see if he is there. I went in there yesterday evening, and do you know what I saw? Food. Real western food. Cocoa Rice Krispies*, to be exact.

I have been staying here for three weeks, within 2.2 seconds of real food, and nobody told me. I was pissed (as usual). I asked Nephew why he didn't take me there PRIOR to the day before we are leaving. He was all, "Uh, well, you went to the other store." Yes, I did. But that store doesn't have Cocoa Rice Krispies, does it? DOES IT? "No," he admitted. We bought the Rice Krispies. I went home and ate four bowls.

Friends, I was in picky eater heaven. Cold cereal is like the nectar of the gods. If only the store had macaroni and cheese, the circle would be complete and I could die.

Anyway, going home! Ecstatic! Not hungry for once due to the wonder that is Cocoa Rice Krispies!

*They were made in England, but still had the Kelloggs brand on them. They call them Coco Pops, but they are and always will be Cocoa Rice Krispies to me.

Hospitality Hell

One thing that sets the Iranian culture apart from the American culture is their emphasis on hospitality. Iranians are schooled from childhood in the concept of 'tarof,' which is the equivalent of eating a meal that you don't like so that you don't hurt your host's feelings, but amplified ten times. You know what else? It's fucking annoying. One or two days, fine. Three weeks? Fuck you all.

I was trying to be nice

I once had the following conversation with my sister-in-law during my one and only trip to their house (during this visit):

Lisa: [admiring the automatic tea maker] This is really good!
SIL: [picks it up and shoves it towards me] Here, it's yours!
Lisa: Oh! No, I really don't need one, I just think it's nice.
SIL: Take it! We can get another one! [unplugs appliance]
Lisa: No, really, it's your tea maker.
SIL: We can get another one!
Lisa's Brain: How do I get out of this?
Lisa: The plug is different! I can't use it at home. Thank you, though.
SIL: Oh, of course!

The tea and fruit mafia

When guests come over to the house, it is customary to offer them hot tea as well as fresh fruit and vegetables. What usually happens is that guests come over, and then one person goes to make the tea, while another person passes out small china plates and paring knives, and then brings around the fruit bowl. Unfortunately (for me), I do not like hot tea. I only drink it once in a while. I like fruit OK, but I have to be in the mood for it. This does not go over well. Everyone loves tea and fruit here!

Person 1: [starts passing around small plates and knives]
Lisa's Brain: Fuck. Here we go again.
Person 1: [brings fruit bowl] Have some fruit.
Lisa: No, thank you. I'm not hungry right now.
Person 1: [stares]
Lisa: Really, I'm not hungry.
Person 2: She's not hungry.
Person 1: [puts banana on my plate]
Lisa's Brain: What does 'not hungry' mean to you anyway?
Lisa: Thanks.
Person 3: [comes into room with a tray of hot tea, offers me some]
Lisa: No thanks, I don't like tea.
Person 3: Have some tea.
Lisa: No I really don't want any tea.
Person 3: I have some tea for you. Here. [sets tea down next to me]
Lisa: Sigh.
Time passes as everyone gets their tea and fruit.
Person 4: You're not eating your banana.
Lisa: I really didn't want any food. I'm not hungry.
Person 5: You should eat fruit. Here, have an orange. [starts to put orange on my plate]
Lisa: No, thank you. I'm not hungry. Look, I'm putting the banana back in the fruit bowl. Not hungry. See?
Person 5: [looks upset]
Person 4: Your tea is getting cold. Drink it!
Lisa: I really don't like hot tea. I like it better cold.
Person 4: No, this tea is cold. I'll get you some hot tea.
Lisa: NO! I mean, no thanks, I prefer cold tea.
Person 4: [takes my tea glass to get hot tea]
Person 6: [enters room] Why didn't anyone give Lisa some tea and fruit?
Lisa's Brain: Just shoot me now.

Right now you're probably thinking that this is not such a big deal, and that I am a major bitch. I am a major bitch, but this scenario also takes place a minimum of three times a day. Every day. For three weeks. I DON'T WANT ANY GODDAMN TEA, OK?

Useless gifts for everyone!

Whenever we come here, the family insists that I buy gifts for all of my family back home. They also insist on paying for the gifts. I have a lot of trouble spending other people's money. I really don't like to do it, but they insist, nay, demand, that we buy these gifts. The actual shopping sucks. Woe betide me if I see something that I just want to look at, because they will buy it. Or at least they'll try to buy it, while the whole time I'm telling them that I JUST WANTED TO LOOK AT IT.

Lisa: [looking for a picture for my Dad's office, not finding it, spying a briefcase that I think he might like]
Lisa: How much is that briefcase?
Nephew 1: It's expensive!
Lisa: OK, then never mind.
Nephew 2: That's a bad briefcase anyway. I know where to find the best briefcases!
Lisa: No, I just wanted to know how much it was. I really want a picture for my Dad's office.
Nephew 1: We can get the briefcase.
Lisa: I really want the picture.
Nephew 2: We can look for another briefcase.
Lisa: PICTURE. Let's focus on the picture. I'm sorry I said anything about the briefcase.

We finally get going and find the picture I wanted, and buy it (actually I wanted one picture, but we ended up with two, because the one I wanted "wasn't good"). Later, after we get home I hear them talking about the briefcase. Then my brother-in-law bounds into the kitchen with a briefcase.

BIL: Look! A briefcase for your father.
Lisa: I didn't want a freaking briefcase, OK? I just wanted to look at it.
BIL: [models how to use the briefcase, slinging it over his shoulder, opening and closing it]
Lisa's Brain: Holy Hell.
Lisa: We have two pictures for my dad. He doesn't really need a briefcase.
BIL: It's perfect!
Lisa: NO BRIEFCASE.

Aren't you tired? You're tired, aren't you? Don't you want to sleep?

The family is very concerned because they don't think that I get enough rest. They always want me to lie down and take a nap, especially if I've just put the baby down for a nap. One time we had gone to my husband's sister's house for a visit, and my husband's brother's wife was concerned because she thought I was sleepy.

SIL: Don't you want to sleep?
Lisa: No, I'm not tired, but thank you.
SIL: Are you sure? You look tired. You should sleep.
Lisa: If I sleep now, I won't be able to sleep later. I'm fine, really.
SIL: [stares] You look really tired. [stares]
Lisa: I'm fine.

10 minutes later

SIL: Don't you want to sleep?
Lisa: I'm not tired.

5 minutes later

SIL: I have a nice pillow here. I could put it over there for you.
Lisa: [annoyed] I'm not tired, OK. Not. Tired.

10 minutes later

SIL: I made up a bed for you. Look! Now you can sleep.
Lisa: I. Am. Not. Tired.

30 minutes later, SIL is lying down in the other room, and the Moosh throws his ball in there

Lisa: [enters room to retrieve ball]
SIL: Why don't you lie down here. Right here. It's very comfortable.
Lisa: [opens mouth to protest]
SIL's 2 Sons: She's not tired! Leave her alone.
Lisa's Brain: Thanks, guys.

Is this not overkill?

Culture shock

I simply fail to see the logic in a system of hospitality that gets so far out of hand that it actually makes guests uncomfortable. It is clearly a difference in culture. In America, when you are a guest in someone's house, you try your best not to make too many demands on your hosts. You eat what they eat, drink what they drink. Occasionally, they may do something special for you to emphasize your guest status.

This is not the case here. In Iran the host will do anything for his guest. If you want Coke, and they don't have it, they will send someone to get it, even if it is 2:00 AM. If you drop in to visit someone, you can expect to be fed. There is value in this system, but I think it is short-lived.

It is a big strain on me to have people at my beck and call. I am an independent person, and I'm used to doing everything for myself. Three weeks of bowing and scraping, and not being able to do anything for myself, is very difficult. I am ready to go home.

His Poor Little Foot

The Moosh hurt his foot on Thursday evening. He was goofing around with this big beach ball and fell down, and we think he twisted his ankle. We took him to the doctor, but even after manipulating the foot every which way, they couldn't seem to find anything wrong. Well, except for the fact that he limps around like a little old man. It's so pathetic, to see this little figure hobble towards you. There's no swelling or discoloration, so I've been giving him some ibuprofen every 8 hours and that seems to help. I haven't told R, and I won't unless he's still favoring it when we get home. R gets upset (and blames me) if the Moosh so much as gets a barely noticeable scratch. I can already envision his rage over a hurt foot. I've got all interested parties on my side, so nobody's going to rat me out. I hope.

Let me catch you up on the last few days (besides the foot incident).

On Wednesday, we sat around for most of the day, but then we went to Tehran to visit BIL #2. Nobody told me in advance that we were going, so I didn't put the Moosh down for his nap early. He didn't get to sleep until we were already in the car. My husband's sister and mother had been staying with us at BIL #1's house in Karaj (about 40 minutes from Tehran), for the previous four days, but it was time for them to go home, so BIL #2 came up with his car so we could take everyone to Tehran. So it was me, the Moosh, BIL #1, and BIL #1's two sons in the first car, and BIL #2, Ammeh (my husband's sister), Mama (my husband's mother), and BIL #1's wife in the second car. We got to Tehran in about 45 minutes, and it took another 15 to get to BIL #2's house.... except it wasn't BIL #2's house, it was Ammeh and Mama's house. Uh, what?

It turns out that Ammeh and Mama weren't going with us to BIL #2's house. I had forgotten. I don't think that Ammeh and Mama get along with BIL #2's wife. This all would have been fine, except for the fact that Ammeh and Mama wanted us all to come up to their house and drink tea and sit around for a while, but the baby had only been asleep for 45 minutes. If we had gone directly to BIL #2's house, he would have gotten another 30 minutes at least. I was pissed. BIL #1 said that he would run up to Ammeh's apartment and tell them that we were going to BIL #2's house. Great. So son #1 and I waited in the car while BIL went up to the apartment. We probably waited for about 7 minutes (far longer than it should have taken for him to get up there and back), and the Moosh woke up because the car was stopped. I was afraid this would happen. And where the hell was BIL? We went up to the apartment, and there he was, sitting on his ass, drinking tea. The Moosh started to cry. I got even more pissed. When the baby is tired, all he wants is for me to carry him and walk around. Not sit, walk. He is very heavy, and I get very tired.

So there I am, walking the floor, and everyone else is sitting there having Chatty Cathy time. Of course they kept offering me tea and whatever, and I was getting more and more pissed. Finally, we let for BIL #2's house.

BIL #2 lives with his wife and four children in a 600 sq. ft. apartment. I kid you not. The kids played with the Moosh for awhile, and, thankfully, he cheered up. I was so happy. I had envisioned an evening of screaming Moosh and tired Lisa. They were having beef kebab for dinner, so they offered to get me a cheese pizza. That was fine. One person left to get the kebabs, and BIL #1's two sons and one of BIL #2's sons went to get the pizza. We waited and waited and waited and waited. I asked BIL #1 if they'd gone to Siberia to get pizza. He said that instead of going to the close pizza place, they went to one far away because the pizza was better. I pointed out to him that cheese pizza is just cheese and bread, and certainly doesn't warrant an hour-long excursion. He agreed, but said that BIL #2's son wanted to go to the far away pizza place. Whatever. It was now 8:30 PM, and the virtually napless Moosh was becoming cranky.

They finally got back with the pizza just as BIL #2 got back with the kebabs. Chicken kebabs. Which I could have eaten. Crap. Whatever. So, the world's best pizza? Was the worst pizza I have ever eaten. That includes all of the Iranian pizza I have had. Iranian pizza is different, but palatable. But this pizza was awful. It had peas on it, people. Peas. On pizza. EWWWWW. Then we finally got to go home.

The pizza didn't agree with the Moosh and he kept me (and the rest of the house) up all night crying. He was fine, but very tired the next morning. So Thursday we didn't do anything. Except for the foot thing. See above.

On Friday we went to Tehran again to visit BIL #1's wife's brother's family. It was fun. They have a lot of kids around my age, and BIL #1's son's ages. The Moosh had a blast. We had lunch at another of that family's kid's house. She made chicken kebab especially for me. Nice. It was very good. Everybody was hanging out and playing cards and generally having fun. They invited us to stay the night, but all our stuff was still in Karaj, so I declined. After we left, we went to the shah's palace. It is now a museum and it was pretty cool. Then we went home.

As soon as we got home there was a flurry of activity as BIL #1's sons got ready to go back to Tehran and stay with their uncle's family (the ones we'd just visited). I probably should have packed up the Moosh and gone with them, especially because I was invited, and those two guys keep the Moosh happy. He loves them. Also, the older son is my interpreter, and the took the only car. With our car seat in it. Crap. I should have gone with them. They're coming back tonight, though.

Only four days left, then we get to GO HOME. So happy. So very, very happy.

Happy New Year, Iranian Style

We rang in the new year a couple of days ago. I must say that the actual event wasn't much to talk about, but the days after were OK. Apparently the thing to do during Nowrooz (Farsi for new day) is to visit family.

The day after Nowrooz, we went to BIL #3's house for lunch. I did not dress for the occasion because nobody told me that we were going anywhere. R's nephew had taken the Moosh and I to the park to get some fresh air, and when we left, nephew told me that we were going to lunch. I was wearing a ratty old t-shirt and jeans. BIL #3 answered the door in a three piece suit. Oy. Most of the people were dressed to the nines (but not all). I felt out of place. They had beef kebab for lunch, so I just had rice. They were upset. I told them to get over it. After lunch I put the terribly tired Moosh down for a nap, but he really couldn't sleep because of the noise. He tossed and turned and fussed, and it just got louder and louder. Finally he woke up fully after about an hour and a half and just started screaming. So I took him out into the family room, where the kids started LAUGHING because he was crying. And I lost it. I hadn't slept much in the preceding days, either. I yelled at them and asked if they thought it was funny that we weren't getting any sleep. They were reasonably cowed but I was in a really, really bad mood.

The family had the good grace to leave me alone for a while, and then they were back in full force, wanting me to go visit my SIL's cousin and his American wife. Naturally, I wasn't in the mood to visit anyone, American or not. They insisted, I declined, and then they just decided to ignore me and pretend like we were going anyway. I was too tired to argue any more, so we went. I ended up just bitching the entire time we were there. The cousin and his wife were very nice, they wanted us to stay with them for a couple of days, but I didn't think it was such a good idea. I pointed out that we were having enough trouble sleeping, and I didn't want to try and change beds again. BIL #3 finally took us home and the Moosh fell asleep without eating dinner and slept fitfully for about 11 hours. He kept me awake, trying to make sure he was sleeping. Oh, well. I did get some sleep.

The next day the Moosh woke up hoarse and coughing. His nose has been running like a faucet since before we got here. I was afraid it had moved into his chest and caused an infection, so we took him to the children's clinic close by. He is fine, his chest and ears are clear and he's not running a fever. The doctor went ahead and prescribed some amoxicillin because his nose has been running for more than 10 days. I am usually very much against using antibiotics because of resistance, but I am so afraid that he will get an infection before we leave and delay our return, I am willing to do just about anything.

When we got home, SIL #1's family came over for lunch. I now consider her totally awesome because she had the foresight to make chicken kebabs and I ate about twenty. SIL #'s neices and nephews have young children, so the Moosh had someone to play with for a while. He was very happy. I put the baby down for a nap (and fell asleep for a while). When I woke up SIL #1's other brother was there with his family, and he had a bunch of daughters around my age. We hit it off, and they invited me to their house. We're probably going to go over there tomorrow.

By the time they left it was five o'clock and the Moosh was exhausted again. He cried and cried. I managed to keep him up until 7:30, but then I relented and put him to bed. I had chicken kebab and rice again for dinner, and then I went to bed myself, because I knew the kid would be up at the crack of dawn. He was.

So things are looking up. As Summer pointed out in her comment, this trip is going to mean a lot to the Moosh as he gets older. It will help him understand his father and his culture. That is certainly true, and it is exactly why I am doing this. Things are looking up. I know it will be worth it.

In Which I Remind Myself Why I Am Doing This

I want to go home. I made a tearful call home this morning to be R to let us come home. I am NOT having a good time.

The Moosh is still suffering from his upper respiratory infection, and I don't know what more to do for him. I am giving him the medicines and his nose just keeps running and running. I am so afraid that he is going to get an ear infection, and we're going to end up having to pay for a doctor's visit out of pocket, and who knows if the treatment will work? The last time he was sick with an ear infection it recurred three times and he was sick for a month.

I have just about had it with the food situation. I am a picky eater. I know this, and I try my best not to impose upon others with my pickiness. That has become all but impossible now, because I have come to the conclusion that I am allergic to the meat (either beef or lamb) that they have here. It makes me sick as a dog. I knew that something was making me sick last year, but never figured it out until now. Unfortunately, that pretty much puts me on a vegetarian diet because don't like fish, nor will I eat chicken on the bone. I was sick all last night because I ate meat twice on Wednesday. I had a bone-crunching headache when I woke up, and it still hasn't gone away entirely. So this morning I told them that I would probably have to restrict my meat-eating to one meal every other day. I think that I can handle that. They can't. This declaration was met with resounding dismay. Guests and eating are two main concepts in the Iranian culture. I am offered sweets, fruit, and tea at all hours of the day. What's for lunch? Well, what does Lisa want to eat? Dinner? Lisa, are you hungry? What can we make for you? I grow weary of all the questioning and dread every meal.

The family's constant concern with my well-being is about to drive me completely insane. They push me to eat, sleep, lie down, get up, change the baby, do this, do that. I am upset. I hate being badgered. When I try to talk about this with R, he thinks that I am impugning his family. I understand that this is part of their culture. It doesn't change the fact that it's annoying as hell. It doesn't change the fact that their meat makes me sick. As we finished our conversation this morning, R begged me to try and have a good time. I am trying. It is not working.

* * * * * * *

So at this point you're probably wondering why I am doing this. Why did I give up three weeks of vacation time and spring break with my family to be miserable? The answer is easy: I want my child(ren) to be bilingual.

R already speaks Farsi to the Moosh at home. The most critical time for second language exposure is in the first year of life. The Moosh had daily exposure throughout his first year and four weeks of immersion when we visited last year. With this trip, he will have a total of seven weeks of immersion in the first two years of his life. It's working. He's speaking Farsi right now.

I have to keep telling myself that it is worth it.

Nothing To See Here

I mean that quite literally. We have spent the last five days staring at the walls of my brother-in-law's house. On four of those days we actually got to the park. That's it as far as entertainment. We spent yesterday at yet another BIL's house. That was actually fun. The rest of the time has been a wash.

It's so much fun dealing with a jet-lagged, teething, bored almost 2-year-old. It's even more fun dealing with the inane questions of various family members. Why is he crying? He's tired. Why doesn't he want to eat? His teeth hurt. Why is he tired? Gee, I don't know, because it's 6 AM in Dallas right now? Really, that makes you tired? Yes.

The family refuses to give him any personal space whatsoever. I think they think he's a toy rather than a human being. Within two seconds of waking up, he has people demanding that he come out and play. No time to wake up fully, no time to get changed and ready for the day, just up and at 'em. Why is he crying? He just woke up. Why won't he let me hold him? He's just waking up. LET HIM WAKE UP FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.

I spend my days chasing him around or lugging him around depending on what kind of mood he's in. This house is not baby-proofed, and I find myself going NO, NO, NO, NO, NO all day long. Is it any wonder that he and I are both a little bit edgy?

There is nothing to do. Nothing. I only brought five books with me, but it hasn't been an issue because all I do is watch the baby. Happy vacation to me.

Argh.

I hope things pick up or it's going to be a long two weeks.

Well, We Made It

We made it! I am typing to you over the slowest internet connection known to mankind, however. Here's a quick recap of the past few days:

Wednesday

The Moosh had recovered nicely from his stomach bug. I caught the damn thing and felt like crap, but I persevered and managed to get all the shopping done in the early part of the day. Unfortunately I felt so bad I ended up cutting short the last store of the day, which happened to be the bookstore. I only brought five books on the trip. For three weeks. Oy.

My mom came over that evening to help me pack, but ended up just entertaining the baby while I moaned and packed. R was being exceedingly helpful -- he kept telling me I was packing wrong and refused to put the baby to bed even though it was 10:30 and I still had a ton of packing to do. Love him.

Thursday

I felt marginally better when I woke up, but the Moosh had green stuff pouring out of his nose. We had to leave for the aiport at 1:00 PM, and our regular doctor was unavailable. I had visions of being at 30,000 feet with a toddler and an ear infection, so I availed myself of our PPO privileges and took him to another doctor's office. They were fantastic. We are switching. The Moosh's ears were clear, and the diagnosis was an upper respiratory infection. They gave him a stronger decongestant/antihistimine combination and sent us on our way. My sister came over and bought us lunch and then it was off to the airport!

We got there at 1:15, and the check-in and security clearance took so long that we had just gotten through security and it was time to board the plane.

Flight from Dallas to Frankfurt

I had been told that I was crazy to travel by myself with a toddler, especially on this marathon 9.5 hour flight. It was long, but it was also mostly at night, so for the 4 hours the Moosh was awake, I just let him color and we sang some songs. Then he went to sleep for the remainder of the flight. I don't sleep well on planes so I caught the last half of Finding Neverland and all of a movie I'd never heard of called After the Sunset. It was OK, but I will have to rent Finding Neverland when I get home. The ending was really good. We landed uneventfully in Germany at 8:30 AM local time on Friday.

Motel Zero

After deplaning, we had to find our shuttle to the Motel Zero. When I made this trip last year I couldn't find the airport shuttle meeting point, so I took a cab. It cost me 13 euros. I wasn't doing that again. It took me about half an hour, but I finally found it and we got to the hotel safely. I call this place Motel Zero because they are so cheap they don't even have clocks in the room. If you want to know what time it is, you have to turn on the television. The television also acts as your wake-up call. Gotta love it.

Since the Moosh had been cooped up in his car seat for the majority of the previous 12 hours, and he was starving because he'd slept through the airplane breakfast, we headed downstairs to check out the buffet and stretch our legs. We walked up and down the stairs a few times, and then ate breakfast. The Moosh ate even more than I did. After breakfast we wandered around the hotel for another hour or so, and then went up to the room. We both lay down on the bed and we were out.

I woke up about 20 minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off, but the Moosh was still asleep. I packed up all of our stuff and then got him a bottle of apple juice to help him wake up. I got him changed and packed up and we caught the shuttle back to the airport.

Flight from Frankfurt to Tehran

I think the worst part about traveling by myself with a young child is the security checks. I had to break down the stroller which meant unloading all of our stuff and him, and then I had to put it all back together on the other side. I didn't have any trouble, but I sure could have used an extra hand or two.

The Moosh fell asleep during take-off, so I got to enjoy a drink (Coke, shut up) and half of Wimbledon. Then they served dinner and I woke up the baby so that he could eat. He didn't, nor did he appreciate being awakened. He was grumpy but manageable for the rest of the flight.

Tehran

We arrived in Tehran at 1:20 AM local time on Saturday. I had a gentleman from the plane help me carry some stuff into the airport, but when we got to passport control, I was on my own. On the flight from Dallas, they give you the stroller right as you get off the plane, but in Tehran, you don't get it back until you pick up your luggage. This meant that the Moosh had to walk, and he was scared of the unfamiliar place, and my hands were full, so I kind of ended up herding him around. I herded him into the passport line and he was crying because I couldn't hold him. Luckily one of the officers saw me struggling, and helped me carry some stuff and let us go through the shorter diplomatic passport line. After we got through passport control I herded the Moosh onto the elevator and up to the baggage claim. The first item of ours that came through the carousel was our stroller. When the Moosh saw it, he insisted that I open it right away. Then he got in by himself and put the straps on, as if to say, "Hey! No more herding!"

I got a porter to help us with the rest of our luggage, and we went out to meet R's family.

Karaj

R's oldest brother lives in Karaj, which is about an hour from Tehran. We got there at about 3:30 AM on Saturday. We were dog tired, but his family wanted to play with the baby. They didn't seem to understand that he doesn't know them, even though we were here last year. They all wanted to hold him and play with him but he isn't having any of it. He goes through phases of willingness to interact, but today he's been especially clingy and tired. He's still got his cold, too. So at this point, we're just trying to get over the jet lag.

Did I mention I only brought five books? I've already read one of them. We've been here for a day and a half. Oy.

Doomed

Remember that FedEx commercial? The one where all the office workers are being all dramatic and saying stuff like "If we don't get this package to Phoenix today... we're DOOMED." Then another office worker would intone ominously "DOOMED." Well, that's how I feel about this trip. This trip, my friends, is DOOMED.

Some numbers for your perusal:

Hours left until flight: 43
Waking hours left until flight: 25
Non-working hours left until flight: 21.5
Things left to buy: 1000
Stores I need to visit: 6
Shopping hours left until flight: 20
Sick children: 1
Semi-sick adult: 1
Bags left to pack: 5
Hours of flight time: 15
Hours spent traveling: 24 (going, 20 coming back)
Hours spent having panic attacks about the above: 4

My in-laws should love me forever.

Random Bouts of Puking

Last Thursday the Moosh puked up his dinner. He seemed fine, and it didn't happen again... until today. He's thrown up twice today. He doesn't have any other symptoms. No fever, no discomfort. Until he throws up, you really wouldn't have any idea that there's something wrong with him. I feel a crazy foreboding about this whole incident. We're going on our trip in 3 days... wouldn't everything be so much better with a sick toddler? Christ, I hope he gets better.

I still have not managed to accomplish anything towards actually getting ready to leave. My list of items that are not done? Is still complete.

I had the day off yesterday because my aunt and uncle came into town unexpectedly and without notice. So since I had the day off it was my golden opportunity to get stuff done, right? HA! I accomplished nothing. Nothing, I tell you! I did get my hair cut today, but I still have to do everything else. In the next two days. I guess I technically have part of Thursday to do stuff, but since we're leaving for the airport at 2:00 PM, what are the odds of me getting anything done that day?

I wouldn't bet on me in Vegas. That's all I have to say.

Denial

In six days the Moosh and I will be heading to Iran to visit my in-laws.

I have not:

1. packed
2. bought 10 million things to entertain the baby
3. bought gifts for the family
4. procured another back pack for carry-on purposes
5. gotten a hair cut
6. gotten the baby a hair cut
7. bought all necessary medicines
8. cleaned my house
9. done laundry
10. arranged for the super shuttle

I have:

1. panicked about being the sole caregiver to a 21-month-old during 15 hours of flight time
2. wondered how many people the Moosh will hit with thrown objects
3. wondered how many people will ask to be moved after realizing they're sitting next to us

I think I probably need to focus on getting stuff for the trip rather than guessing about the events of the trip, but la, la, la, la. Whatever. I think I shall go into denial! Everything will be awesome! Toddlers love planes! Sure! Kids love being strapped into car seats for hours on end with nothing to do! It'll be great! Great, I tell you!

Maybe I should cut back on the bourbon. Hey! They have bourbon on planes! Alcohol is free on international flights! Maybe I can just slip some into the baby's sippy cup. Two for mommy, one for baby. That's a good boy!

Why am I doing this again?

Conversation With A 20-Month-Old

Moosh: Phone, phone, phone.
Lisa: Do you want the phone?
M: No. [reaches for phone]
L: I see you want the phone. Can you say yes?
M: No. [continues to reach for phone]
L: Say yes. Yes, Mommy, I do want the phone.
M: [points at me] Phone.
L: I'm Mommy. Can you say mommy? [I point to myself] Mom-my.
M: [points to himself] Phone.
L: No, silly. You're Moosh.
M: [points to himself] Moosh.
L: Yes! And I'm Mommy. Say Mommy.
M: Moosh.
M: Phone. [points to me]
L: Sigh.