Life in the Time of Cholera…or Birthday-related First World Problems

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Today is my birthday.  My brother-in-law wished me a happy birthday earlier today and just sent me a message on Facebook.  It reads, “How’s your day going?”

Here is my reply:

1) I am 33. Jesus was dead by 33. What the hell have I done in my 33 years?!

2) I am not even 33. My true birthday is tomorrow. 33 years ago I was one day away from being born.

3) I just found out James arranged for a special bagel delivery for me (Canadian deli just opened in Auckland). There was lox and cream cheese in the fridge. The problem: the bagels never arrived!

4) I wanted sushi for lunch but sushi here is nasty. It’s all cooked garbage on top of unseasoned rice. So I settled for Thai. I took Leah, who was pantless of course, to pick up some Thai for us to all share back home. The Thai place was closed! I went to a Chinese buffet in town. It looked gross and everything was mislabeled. It was so bad we threw out most of it. 
 
5) It’s muggy and my toe is hurting, I think from arthritis.
 
6) I found a white eyebrow hair the other day.
 

7) 95% of my Facebook friends are in a different time zone and have yet to wish me a happy birthday.

8) The 5% of my Facebook friends who ARE in my time-zone and are acknowledging my birthday are acknowledging a fake birthday – as I am technically 32 and 364 days old.

9) The Chinese food will probably give me an MSG headache.

10) Like a fool, I bought regular strength painkillers. Why on earth wouldn’t I buy the “extra strength” version?!

11) It looks like it’s about to rain.

12) There hasn’t been a new Rob Ford video in days.

13) There isn’t any chocolate in the house.

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Cleaning House

We’ve been here for approximately 6 weeks and are getting into a routine…or at least as much of a routine as is possible with neither parent working and no child enrolled in school.

Prior to our arrival, various relatives left items in our garage expecting that we would use them.  As well, James’ grandfather recently sold his beachhouse and many of the items that were there ended up here.  All this to say that we were left with an abundance of items that we didn’t need.  The miscellany included spare sofas, beds, dishes etc.  Many of the big ticket items went to my sister-in-law and her husband who are expecting farm-workers from the Philippines soon.  The items we had left over included things I literally could not identify.  I would have just left them in the garage forever but James had the brilliant idea of having a garage sale.  The last time I had a garage sale I was a kid and the neighbours haggled with me over my Archie comics.  I ended up selling a boxful for maybe $3; I still regret this.

In any event, James took the lead on this.  He placed an advertisement in the local paper which cost him $15.  I was just hoping to recoup those costs.  The ad appealed to every hoarding spendthrift within a 50 km radius: “nothing over $5”.  The sale was due to begin at 9am on Saturday.  9am on Saturday.  9 am on SATURDAY.  Imagine James’ surprise then when 3 older woman pulled up on Friday afternoon to request an early peak!  They ended up spending $67 that night so no complaints from us!  The next morning, at around 7.30am, I was urging James to shower first and quickly and that I’d follow in short order.  He assured me that no one would arrive until 8.30am at the earliest.  I disagreed.  I was confident people would start arriving at 8am or so.  I scurried past the front window and was shocked at the site! — 5 cars lined up on our front lawn with its inhabitants staring into our house, watching for movement and any indication that the sale was on.  

James ushered them to the garage and the sale was on!  We sold all types of rubbish.  Some of it was actual rubbish.  For example, James took a rusted out bathtub that was headed for the dump and put it in the garage.  SOLD for $5!

Rusty tools?  SOLD! 3 forks and 5 knives from mismatched sets? SOLD! Mouldy pillows? SOLD!

When all was said and done, we made $134 after factoring in the advertising cost.  The best part is that after the last customers left, they returned from their car with a large bucket of freshly picked asparagus.  I thanked him and asked how much he’d like for it.  NONE!  Nothing! He was giving me it! For free!  Obviously I happily accepted his kind and very generous offer. I’ve never had fresh asparagus before.  They taste like sunshine and happiness.ImageImage

 

Before and After

One difference between Canada and NZ is that in Canada all fishing requires a permit/license to do so legally.  In NZ, by contrast, non-commercial fishing here does not require anything other than a net, a reel, a spear or, for the really rugged, a pair of hands.  Green-lipped mussels, for example, are plentiful by the seashore here as are other kinds of shellfish.  My in-laws recently spent a few days at the beach and, while there, picked up some seafood for us.  My mother-in-law came by to show us the fruits of their labour then took them to her place to prepare our supper.  After a day of childcare, it was a welcome treat and definitely a uniquely Kiwi treat at that.  Here are some photos…

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Picking Battles

I am sure many of you, like me, enjoy reading about other people’s parenting missteps, mainly because it makes us all feel better about our own parenting missteps.  I have three children under the age of two.  As such, we are spread very thin and this leads to numerous parenting missteps on pretty much an hourly basis. Don’t get me wrong, overall I think we’re doing a solid job but yes, we pick our battles.  Wearing seatbelts, brushing teeth, putting on suntan lotion are musts.  Wearing pants at the dinner table, however, is optional at best.  And that applies to me and my husband, as well.

When I was around twenty, I spent the summer in Europe.  I still recall the feeling I had walking around Amsterdam.  No, wait, let’s be honest, stumbling around Amsterdam.  The feeling was pure amazement that everything we are told is wrong – namely drug use and prostitution – was accepted fairly openly in the Netherlands and the country still managed to be world class with respect to every possible barometer of excellence.
 
Which brings me to this: in Canada, even in the summertime, it is assumed that everyone wears shoes.  If you don’t wear shoes, you are considered “the crazy hippy” and if your kids don’t wear shoes, well, you are officially known as “the shitty parent”.  I recently moved to New Zealand and here, shoes are pretty well optional.  You can go shoeless into shops, including grocery stores, and most kids go shoeless to school. The other day I was driving by the local school and saw the kids running around the block and all but one was shoeless.  It is a good reminder that everything, including parenting choices, sometimes come down to cultural differences.
 
 
One such example from own life: I was at my brother’s bar mitzvah and my grandmother, an Eastern European at heart, was drinking what looked like a slushie.   I was indescribably excited to get a slushie in a fancy glass so I asked her for one. She handed me hers and when I spat it out and exclaimed “ugh!”, she just laughed.  It was no big deal to her and indeed, I intend to get a laugh out of doing that to my own kids and grandkids one day.  My husband, who is not Eastern European, may not find it so funny but hell, I won’t berate him when he lets the kids go shoeless so I guess we’re even.
 
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A Photo Update…

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Dried beans gathered from the vine. I put off cooking them and then they got mouldy and had to be tossed.

 

 

 

 

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Orange cake made with freshly picked oranges

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The mint which James is enjoying as tea

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Philippa’s kind and open face

 

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Philippa in the foreground and Lev in the background, both Jolly Jumping their little hearts out.

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Big sister Leah joining in.

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Picking your battles sometimes means kids don’t need to wear clothes at mealtimes. Or use plates. And peas can be in mugs.

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Photographic evidence that I occasionally have it under control. Clearly it’s not too often though as it’s still a photo-worthy event!

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Little sweethearts

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Beautiful family and The Look of Love

 

 

Driving Along in My Automobile…

We are the proud owners of a brand new Nissan Elgrand.  Brand new to us, that is.  It is a 2004 model and a Japanese Import.  I have no idea what the Japanese do to their cars but here is what they evidently don’t do to, or in, their cars: wear muddy footwear, drink anything but colourless beverages or eat anything at all.  The only evidence of any damage is very slight: a few irregularities in one bit of fabric which, to me, looks like the remnants of a cigarette improperly ashed.

I always said I hated vans and would never own one but the practicalities of parenthood won the day.  My father-in-law and I combined investigatory efforts before we arrived here and came to the conclusion that the Elgrand was the best and most suitable option for us.  It was also the only one that could easily fit our triple stroller.  Despite it being purchased purely for its utilitarianism, it has some amazing features that I love…

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It fits the triple stroller: we’ve quasi piled the seats on top of each other and by folding a seat up and against the wall (how cool is that!?!), we are able to fit in the base as well).

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Here’s the interior. Notice the wheel is on the right side. Also, if you look close, you will see the world’s coolest keyless feature.

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I can use a key to turn on the ignition OR I can simply turn it on by having the key nearby. Any car I’ve been in before is EITHER with key or keyless but this car lets you do either!

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Just press that button on the left and if your key is nearby (say, in your pocket), the doors unlock.

The Journey: PART III

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If you haven’t read the previous two instalments of The Journey, here’s what you missed: I got barf on and under my shirt, the flights were tiring, Air New Zealand flights have awesome food, we had some snags in immigration and customs which delayed our arrival, my in-laws were there to meet us at the airport and escort us to our new home in Matamata, a small town in the Waikato region of New Zealand.

Now that we’re all caught up…

The Journey: PART III, or What I’ve Been Up To Since Arriving Just Over A Week Ago.

It’s been about ten days since we arrived and so far, so good.  

First, a bit about our house: it’s a three bedroom house that is located just on the outer edge of town on a farm property belonging to James’ family.  It’s convenient enough to get to town as it’s just a few kilometres away but far enough away to feel like you’re properly in the country.  The house is an old and solid structure so when we close the interior doors, we can’t hear the children so we’re sleeping great!  The house is by a major roadway so there is noise from that but it doesn’t bother us; I guess after spending all those years in the inner city, we became accustomed to even more noise than this.  

James’ parents arranged for some renovations of the house prior to our arrival so there’s bright white paint nearly everywhere, new looking windows and the bathroom looks entirely new.  As well, they set up some basic furniture and gave us some groceries so we weren’t left scrambling upon arrival.  

The first few days were spent getting over the jet lag.  We’ve been chipping away at various tasks such as getting IRD cards (which are the New Zealand equivalent to Canadian SIN cards) for me and the kids, and getting NZ driver’s licenses, arranging internet and phone service etc.  We’ve begun the process of finding work because, at least at this stage, we both realize that we need and want to work outside the home.  James is running for the local council which, for the first time in a number of years, finds itself with an overabundance of qualified nominees!   

Before I came here, I reflected that once I find work and friends, I’ll be fine.  Now I don’t have work yet and I don’t really have friends here yet but I’d like to think I’m well on my way.  There is a set-up in New Zealand that we don’t have in Canada which is called Play Centre.  Virtually every community has a Play Centre which is essentially a nursery for children from birth to 6 years old.  Parents and/or guardians must be in attendance but there is also a staff member there to help make sure things run smoothly.  The cost is $15-$25 for around 12 weeks depending on how often you go and how many kids you have.  It runs in the mornings for four days a week.  I imagine not every Play Centre is as incredible as our local one but, honestly, I was floored when I saw how amazing this place is.  It is a huge open-concept interior with every possible type of toy one can imagine and different stations such as play dough, painting, carpentry and so on.  There is a low gate which separates the  children under 2 from the rest of the kids.  There is a huge and rambling outdoor area which features an enormous covered sandbox and several large play structures, tires etc.  This place seriously has everything.  They even have coffee, tea and Milo for parents to help themselves to!   The parents hang around where ever they want to within the interior/exterior complex; there are no set parameters.  There’s a lot of chatting and – to use Manitoba lingo – “visiting”.  The parents there all seem very friendly.  One of them is hosting a DVD night this coming Friday night so my New Zealand social life is fast improving.

Groceries seem more expensive here than in Canada but I have to remind myself that New Zealand is an island nation in the South Pacific so what do I expect?!  That said, we’re lucky to get some groceries free from my in-laws: eggs, milk, beef and some herbs are always available from them and now, in season, we can also get lemons, limes, various types of oranges, rhubarb and swiss chard (which they call Silverbeet here).  

We’ve only been here for 10 days but there’s a lot to cover so here are a few short notes: there is no rabies here (!), no squirrels/beavers/racoons/skunks here, I started driving here on Day Two and am slowly mastering the Art of the Roundabout, taxes are included in quoted prices and tipping is not expected, they drive on the left side of the road, and countries nearby include Fiji, Tahiti, Rarotonga, Samoa, Solomon Island, Niue and Australia among others.

 I welcome questions or suggestions re: what to write about; just send me a PM or reply under this.

Until then, here are some photos…

Freshly picked and still warm eggs…

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It’s not home without a Magic Bullet…

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Apples and pears from a local orchard, the citrus and eggs from next door.  The bananas are from a shop…

 

 

 

 

 

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My father-in-law’s farm worker had the weekend off so James helped out.  Lev couldn’t sleep so he kept James company…

 

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A local honey maker keeps some beehives on my in-laws’ farm.  In exchange they get free honey so now we get free honey!

 

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Some jams, pickles, preserved fruits and chutneys made by my mother-in-law…

 

 

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The view from the backyard…

 

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