Archive for March, 2009


Thursday, March 12th, 2009

We left for China one month ago tomorrow.  What a month!  The first two weeks were surpassed in level of difficulty only by the first two weeks of P’s life.  The combination of massive sleep deprivation, culture shock, and lack of language skills was very nearly enough to send me to a Chinese mental health facility. Luckily, though, the heavens opened up, and the sun shone brightly two weeks ago when we met these people: (more…)


Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

I haven’t posted in a long time, and Chris has taken over my blog.  Putting together a series of coherent sentences is far outside the realm of my cognitive abilities lately.  Why?  Because I haven’t slept.  Not a wink.  In a month.  Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but not by much.  Wee P has been waking up hourly through the night for weeks.  I initially chalked the behavior up to a growth spurt, but clearly, that’s not the deal.  At home, she would sleep for five or six hours at a time in a baby swing.  We didn’t bring the swing here, and there seem to be none to buy.  Are the Chinese a swing-hating people?  I would Ferberize her wee self and let her cry it out if we didn’t have neighbors on all sides.

I am desperate for REM. Not the Michael Stipe variety, but the kind that magically renders one fit to deal with waking life the following morning. I would truly welcome any suggestions as I am on the verge of losing what precious little is left of my gourd.  Sorry, no pics with this post, though I realize how entertaining a photo of my bug-eyed, crazed face would surly be.

Cracking the Ayi Code

Wednesday, March 4th, 2009

I’m in P’s bedroom on the computer.  I just heard Ayi in another room tear a piece of paper out from my notebook. She’s scribbling something. I know what this means. I’m going to be doing some decoding in a minute or two.


Cream of the Crop.

Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009

I read a passage to my students today that used the term, “cream of the crop,” and  I asked them if they knew what the term meant.  One guy, whose English name is Bruce, raised his hand and said, “Yes, like Michael Jackson?”  “No,” I responded, “That’s the King of Pop.  Close, though.”