Home, Sweet Home.

February 17th, 2009

We’re finally in our apartment and can tell already that this place it going to feel like home really quickly. P loves her new bedroom and is having a fantastic time setting it up to her specifications. She’s currently in the living room watching Dora the Explorer in Mandarin. The kid is in heaven!

While I’m on the topic of P, this morning, she brought me a piece of paper and asked me to write her name on it. She then went into her room and came out a few minutes later to show me this:

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Tired.

February 16th, 2009

Forgive the telegraphic nature of this post.  It’s 3:30 am and all four of us are wide awake.  P is in bed eating from a box of cereal proclaiming it to be the “bestest Chinese cereal in the world.”

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Announcement: We’re Both Posting.

February 15th, 2009

Everyone — if you intend on following along, please keep your eye out for the fact that some of the posts will be Chris’s and some will be Christie’s. We decided that it made little sense for Chris to post his reflections at his blog, since that would require some people to go back and forth between the two blogs, and it would also mean that people reading Chris’s blog would have to sift through boring posts on Confucius to find the trip-related stuff. So it’ll all be right here under “one roof.” Just look below each post for “Tags” so see who the author is. Also, since we’re both posting, you might want to scroll down a bit — there may be more than one post on any given day.

Three Themes of Day One.

February 15th, 2009

Three themes ruled our first day in China.

1)  Gratitude. We’ve been amazed at how incredibly helpful people have been to us since we arrived.  The Chinese love children, so I think we’re receiving VIP treatment thanks to the presence of P and Wee P.  Everywhere we go, people go out of their way to help us in various ways.

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When Understanding is Overrated.

February 13th, 2009

We’re in the airport in Chicago right now.  There were two loud-talking, mom jean-wearing businessmen sitting behind us on the flight here.  They seemed to both work in the exciting world of air filtration, so all the “filter this, filter that” became white noise after a while – until one said, “We’re opening up a new plant in Canada, because the labor rate is lower there.  Also, you know, Canadians are a lot smarter than Mexicans.”

Somehow, I’m looking forward to living in a place where I rarely understand anything anyone says for a while.

Phoning In and Heading Out.

February 10th, 2009

I’m way too tired from packing and remembering all the five million things I need to remember to actually put words together, so I’m scrounging some recent photos from my camera and calling this a post.

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The Writing on the Jugs.

February 4th, 2009

Is it just me, or do orange juice and milk containers in grocery stores speak to other people?  With my first pregnancy, I remember the day I noticed that the expiration dates on orange juice cartons were after my due date.  To me, those cartons were saying, “It’s getting close.  Life as you know it is almost over.  Hope you’ve been doing your Kegels.”  I got even more freaked out the following week when I realized the milk on the shelves would outlive my placenta.   “For the love of God, woman, pack your hospital bags,” those cartons implored.

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The Tao of Snow Angel Making.

February 1st, 2009

We don’t get a lot of snow here, so the last time P saw any was over a year ago in Boston.  She hated it.  In fact, she refused to let any part of her body, including her feet, make contact with it and she kept pleading with me to “bring back the grass.”  At some point in the last year, likely thanks to all her TV friends and their modeling of snow love, P decided to give the white stuff a second chance.

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Cheating.

January 30th, 2009

I used up Wee P’s nap writing out my stupid, Facebook “25 Things about Me” list rather than writing a new blog post as I had intended to do.  I’m therefore going to commit what I’m certain is a blogging faux pas and reuse that list here.  Don’t judge – I’m tired.

The List

1. Even though I realize saying “y’all” makes me sound like a hick, I will always say it. The one and only time I attempted “you guys,” I felt like a fraud. It’s so weird to hear my kid say “you guys.” It’s like she’s speaking a language different from my own.

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Ice.

January 26th, 2009

I’ve always had a healthy respect for tornadoes and I understood at a young age that people took them very seriously.  I grew up in a tornado-prone part of the country and have a number of very vivid childhood memories related to tornadoes.  For instance, I remember  my paternal grandmother once standing in the middle of the living room waving her hands in the air as she spoke in tongues, presumably asking God to redirect the storm headed toward us.  I also remember the sound of the tornado siren in grammar school and how my teacher would lead us  into the hallway where we would crouch down facing the wall with our arms crossed over the tops of our heads as we sang songs about Jesus.  I suppose all this tornado-induced pleading with heaven quickly taught me to fear the long, single siren.

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