postdoc dinner

Last night, seven Technion postdoctoral students stopped by around seven to eat dinner at our place. I put on an old Disney movie via Youtube to distract Declan while I prepped dinner, starting at 3:30/4pm. It is so strange how I never noticed how racist/classist old Disney movies are when I used to watch the few I did as a child. Check out Lady and the Tramp and the first 10 minutes of 101 Dalmatians to see what I mean. The menu ended up being:

Butternut squash and apple soup
Spinach risotto
Sweet potato puree with nut crust
Roasted root vegetables (anise, jerusalem root, beets, with cilantro garnish)
Roasted stuffed green pepper halves (filling: mushroom, cheese, onion, breadcrumb, egg, with soy sauce and black pepper to taste)
Shaksouka - brought over by one of the postdocs' boyfriend, who is currently working in a northern kibbutz and travels south to see her on weekends
Tapioca pudding - brought over by one of the postdocs, whose almost-eight-months-old baby was having a fever last night and therefore was a bit out of it

I got to know some of the postdocs a little more... It amuses me how far-flung from around the world we are. Well, actually not really. There's still a bit of cultural homogenization despite the different countries: Former Soviet Union (now Ukraine), Germany, France, Switzerland/Indonesia, USA (Texas, New York, Minnesota, Illinois/Oregon/Pennsylvania). It seemed like everyone had a good time, and that lightened my mood a bit. Daniel washing most of the dishes afterwards so that I didn't have to face a dirty and crowded kitchen sink and countertop this morning was also *super* nice.

I wonder how much things will change once our daughter arrives. I wonder if I would still be able to make dinner for people to come over and eat/hang out together. Perhaps I will just be absolutely overjoyed to have enough shut-eye time. Yes, a bit apprehensive.

thanksgiving this year

Last year, in China, celebrating Thanksgiving consisted of walking from our apartment to the Vineyard, the bar/restaurant that also served as a regular waterhole/gathering place for all Hangzhou expats, widening our eyes at its incredibly expensive (by the standard of the local salary Daniel was earning) Thanksgiving menu, and being able to decline with relief the head chef's invite that we come back another day because it was a RSVP-required event anyway.

This year, Daniel, Declan, and I were invited to four different Thanksgiving dinner gatherings, and we accepted the first two invites, which happened on Thursday night and Friday night.

The Thursday night crowd consisted of a bunch of random mostly late-20s/some 30s/a few early 40s English speakers from the Eastern seaboard of the US, England, Australia, other parts of Europe. A lot were math postdocs at Technion or from other Israeli institutions who had rode the train up from the south. It was loud, crowded, short on quality food, but well-stocked in liquor. The turkey was brined and deliciously moist, and the green bean casserole that I liked so much was gone in about 30 seconds. I also accidentally grabbed a cup that I had thought was clean/new, but upon the first few sips, realized that it was most likely someone's discard, which they had not thrown away but simply put down next to the stack of new, unused tower of cups. It was like making out with a drunk frat boy during a college party. Yuck. Declan ate a lot of turkey because he likes salty things, then he threw it all up on the bus ride home. (Thank goodness I kept the plastic bag that we brought our dinner contributions in!) Haifa has very curvy and hilly roads, and Declan's motion sickness on busses is yet another reason-- aside from last week's likelihood of bus bombings--that limits my mobility around the city.

Friday afternoon consisted of Daniel and I making fried garlic mashed potatoes, a sweet potato dish, and white/dark chocolate chip cookies to take over to Kirsten's and Or's place. A lot of their (and our, now) friends from Tel Aviv rented cars and drove up to eat together. It was wonderful. Especially with the home-made gravy that I drizzled over e-ve-ry-thing. We gave thanks before dinner for the Iron Dome, the ceasefire, everyone being safe during Operation Pillar of Defense, Rachel's seven-week-old baby, and a new pregnancy amongst us. I ate more than I needed, and did not regret my gluttony at all.

So. My Thanksgiving 2012 chronicles. Who knows what next year will bring.

an honest picture of my day

While I was making his lunch, attempt #2, this afternoon (Declan refused to eat the tuna salad sandwich I made so I decided to try fried rice since that would include a little bit of ketchup), he started hitting the stove with his drum sticks. I told him to stop. He yelled, "No!" and hit the stove some more and harder. I told him to stop one more time. He repeated the above process.

I just got too sick of his shit. I understand he's only two, but I'm tired of him acting like a spoiled brat each and every day and I am the only one that has to take it every single day, some days every hour, by myself.

So I took his drum sticks away. And he HOWLED, and I really wanted to yell at him to shut up and smack him, so instead I shut myself out in the balcony. Somehow he got the balcony door opened, and came howling at me again. I went to the kitchen and separated us with the door. This time he couldn't open the door, but instead spent the next half an hour screaming, throwing himself at the door, and screaming so more.

I sat at the kitchen table, listening to his yelling and pounding, and I thought about how easy it would be for me to just cut my wrists with the kitchen knife. Or throat. Maybe I could leave a note for Daniel to shut off the stove when he gets home as I remembered the chicken soup with vegetables that I had just started simmering. I decided this idea is not the best as my husband would probably get too distracted by my corpse on the kitchen floor and waste an entire pot of good soup.

So I waited...and wondered how I got here as Declan continued to pound and scream. There was never a question of whether or not Declan has stamina. A small part of me worried about all the stress hormones that might be coursing through him at the moment, but mostly I just felt numb.

At one point, I heard him run away, down the hall. So I opened the door to follow him. He heard the door and came running back. This time, he silently lifted his arms up and appealed with his eyes for me to lift him up and hold him. So I did. Now he's eating the lunch attempt #2 after I refused on four occasions not to add any more ketchup or to feed him cookies or ice cream instead.

I don't think I'm in a good place right now. I am afraid it's getting worse. I seriously thought about ending my life today or not caring if Declan fell off the balcony. I don't know how to stop or reverse this descent.

my heart weeps

Tears of sympathy and also anger.

Sympathy as I read the news and watch the numbers of rockets and Palestinian casualties climb. Wincing at the danger everyone within rocket range is still in, and knowing how the death of innocents will be used for hate propaganda that only serves to stop peace negotiations. I cry helplessly as I watch and dream of video coverages of both Israeli and Palestinian children running in terror to the closest "safe" place as the shrill sound of rocket grows louder.

Anger because friends with limited access to up-to-date information are spouting insensitive and over-simplistic rhetoric on facebook, not to mention irrelevant. The fundamental issues of land rights and state sovereignty should be discussed, yes, but could we focus right now on how ceasefire should be achieved right now? I can understand Arab fb users calling the Israelis all sorts of derogatory names based on a decades-long grudge caused by a variety of reasons, but what the hell are my American friends getting all riled up about in complete favor of one side without any regard for the suffering and danger that ordinary civilians on the other side are also experiencing right fucking now?

I am by turns so glad I'm here in the Middle East during this current violence, because I'm really starting to understand more of the situation from both sides. And it's not weird for me to care so much and spend so much time researching up on the issues because my family's here, and we can't leave as a lot of moms I've been talking to are thinking given that I'm so pregnant at this point. And by turns kind of wistful about my previous disinterestedness, because it's been a really emotional couple of days encountering all sorts of comments that I could have let pass in the past, but now feel responsible in responding to. I feel a great deal of the important issues in hand are being muddied and I cannot simply stand aside and watch that continue.

God, I can only pray. In the end, only You are in control.

bookmark regarding the current escalating violence between Hamas and southern Israel

Breaking news: Egyptian President Morsi condemns "brutal assault" on Gaza, recalls his ambassador from Tel Aviv and calls for an emergency session of the UN Security Council - http://www.jpost.com/MiddleEast/Article.aspx?id=291872

My immediate thought upon reading this in the Jerusalem Post:

(1) So Hamas firing 100+ rockets at hospitals, schools, and residential areas in Israeli towns for over a week is not considered a "brutal assault"? (2) The UN security council is such a joke at this point.

It feels so surreal to be reading on Israeli mothers fb group from actual moms in southern Israel preparing to pack up their kids and other moms up north (like in Haifa) offering places to stay. These are moms that, just two weeks ago, have been posting about the typical early childhood issues such as teething, food, sleep... The Israeli government has set up a hotline for southern Israel residents to call if they want to evacuate, and northern residents can also call to volunteer to host. Daniel and I thought about hosting, except most of the southern Israelis only speak Hebrew, so communications might be a really big issue...

I've been lax about writing lately despite a lot of things going on, but I'm also been having so much pain related to this pregnancy that I'm contemplating the possibility of needing to do bedrest. Soooo... will hopefully catch up on things soon, once Declan's two-year birthday celebrations and Thanksgiving preparations/gatherings and housework are finally all completed.

trying to be positive

I wish that I could be in Pittsburgh right now, and take Declan exploring through Frick Park or Schenley Park every morning. Imagining the two of us heaping golden leaf piles and "hiking" with sticks, as well as stumbling upon deer nests.

I wish I could have made Jess' Rwanda photo gallery show, and hung out with other friends. Enjoying the music and cookies and cool autumn weather in a light sweater.

I wish I could make fall dishes like pumpkin soup and pumpkin cookies and pumpkin pies. Using the crockpot to make stew and briskets, etc.

I wish I have good friends to visit on weeknights and a church community to immerse myself in during the weekend.

I wish it's not such a struggle to meet up with potential new friends due to my limited physical capacity during this really uncomfortable pregnancy and my unfamiliarity with the bus system here. Looking up destinations with the Egged website is really not that easy, even with English translation. The conversation I had just now in order to find a ride to an English book club makes me just want to give up altogether. Could I have highlighted my airheadedness and ineptitude at living life here any better?

* * *

I am thankful to know *some* people in Haifa that also likes Declan. Like Kirsten and Or, Mark who would visit from Tel Aviv, and some of the moms I'm getting to know at Monday and Wednesday Mommy and Me classes.

I am thankful for a fairly reliable babysitter that Declan likes to play with, who comes on Sunday and Thursday mornings for three hours.

I am thankful that we have enough money to live on, even though the cost of living in Israel is incredibly high.

I am thankful for this large apartment that should be sufficient even when the new baby comes.

I am thankful that Declan's starting to communicate with words and learning to use the toilet pretty well.

everything is gray

On Thursday night, Daniel, Declan, and I took the Carmelit to Massada Street. Rumor has it that a street party was taking place there, and the Carmelit was free to ride on that night. It turned out all right. Rain and thunder. Open-aired burger/fries and pomegranate juice place. Because it seems most Israelis don't pick up after their dogs' poop, I wouldn't let Declan play in the puddle after the last big bout of rain while we were at the street party. I suspected plenty of fecal matter run-off congregated in the water, and was semi-impressed, semi-disgusted, and semi-incredulous that another mom was letting her toddlers jump up and down in them. It proved too torturous for Declan to simply watch without joining in on the play, so we had to move and distract until Daniel's colleague and her boyfriend finally met up with us in the crowd.

On Friday night, Mark and his mom traveled up from Tel Aviv and we all shared a cab to Nesher to eat dinner with Or and Kirsten. There were tender meatballs in tomato sauce, nicely flavored crockpot bone-in chicken with mushrooms, roasted fingerling potatoes sprinkled with rock salt, among other things. It was delicious. I brought over some sauteed greens via the CSA supply and zucchini chocolate chip muffins, which I kind of over-baked.

Then, today, we had banana pancakes with imported Canadian maple syrup with Mark and his mom, a stroll along the Louis Promenade, and a lunch of four differently stuffed bourekas with hard-boiled eggs and Israeli pickles.

It was nice...to have company of friends. Comfortable people who I truly feel at ease around. Still, I don't know what's wrong with me... I feel "like butter spread out over too much bread." It's not because I'm awfully bored at home with Declan. There's now a schedule in place during the mornings: Mondays and Wednesdays, I stroller Declan over to Vardiya (a 25-minute hilly walk) to a Hebrew mommy-and-me group. Sundays and Thursdays, I study Hebrew for three hours while Declan plays with a babysitter.

When I meet up with friends and hang out with them for a period of time, the gray shroud lifts temporarily. And it's not that I dislike living in Israel--I'm increasingly grateful for the chance to observe the culture here firsthand. One year is really a very short time to experience a foreign country.

Yet, I'm still dragging my feet, psychologically, every single day. Not quite sure I'll make it to another day without going crazy. I am, in a word, unhappy, but I don't really know why.