Surprise party

We had a surprise party for a friend's birthday tonight. 

A shot of Emma with the birthday gal.

Emma and her friend.

Nepal: Days 4-5

Our last day in Nepal was very relaxed. We napped and packed and visited an Italian restaurant for lunch. Emma flirted with the waiters there who became completely enamored with her. That evening we met a couple of friends (who were also getting a baby's visa) for dinner. We went back to the hippie vegetarian middle eastern restaurant to find that at night it is transformed by black lights. 

Emma cried during the whole dinner unless she was being paced/danced around by us. 

I think she is a textbook case of "the period of PURPLE crying". On the following website you can read more about how common it is for babies to wail in the early evening hours. It helped me to normalize this. I hope it helps you, too:  purplecrying.info

The last day was an early breakfast and then from 8am-3pm we were either in the air, on a plane, or in the airport. 

Kathmandu, Nepal from the air 

Emma loves traveling because it means one to two hours of undisturbed nursing and/or snuggling, and once off the flight there is a session of playtime with Mommy n Daddy! She did great on both flights home... With the exception of pooping through her first outfit onto Daddy's khakis just half an hour before our first flight. Haha! 

Nepal: Day 3

We got Emma's visa this evening. Today was good, but exhausting. Emma tapped out on touring today. Tomorrow we must rest.

The day in pictures:

Nepal: Day 2 (Visa & Drifters)

The first half of today was spent at the visa center so that we could get Emma's visa to live in the country of her birth. We should receive said visa tomorrow at 5pm. How much easier this office has been to deal with!!! Hopefully this man told us the truth...

Cultural moments:

Thamel is full of backpacker types from all over the world. There are so many eclectic and eccentric types loafing and touring here. Today, we joined them in restaurants, galleries, coffee shops, and streets that cater to tourists. 

There were really odd locals who approached Matt, but some even approached me asking, "Namaste! Hello! Weed?" Trying to sell us pot. How weird to try and sell to a mom of a small baby... maybe some people would take him up on that?! It kind of reminded me of Vancouver's artist district.

Some snapshots of today's happenings:

Breakfast before going to the visa office. Our hotel has an awesome cafe above it with seashell inlaid, glass-topped tables surrounded by pillows and that inside of tented, curtained spaces. The breakfast buffet was western and nice.

Lunch: Daddy and Emma at a middle eastern vegetarian restaurant... Again at low tables and seated on cushions. This is not only comfortable but convenient for Emma to snuggle, nurse, and play while we eat. I have such a handsome husband... Just sayin'!

Fun shot of really old school rickshaws awaiting their next fare. 

Fun times loafing in the streets of Thamel. We kept sun-free under an umbrella and perused galleries. It was fabulous! Emma napped about 2 hours in the Bjorn carrier... Despite honking scooters and cars passing us on the narrow streets.

A play break at a coffee shop. One should not spend most of the day in a baby carrier, gotta stretch your legs! Behind them is a coffee roaster.

Nepal: Day 1 (Up, up, and away...)

June 24...

With the woes of the exit stamp far behind us, we headed out of country to collect Emma's visa in Nepal.

On the first flight...

Between flights in an airport food court

Flight number two! Yep, that is a yawn. Joyful baby squeals aren't really flight-friendly, so my job was to keep Emma in the milk coma or relaxed. She's just so happy, though! All that eating made for awesome diapers... Thankfully, both airlines today had clean bathrooms with clean diaper changing stations!

A backpackers paradise, Nepal is full of strangely dressed and tattooed Westerners. There are restaurants that cater to Western tourists like this steakhouse.

Emma zonked out before our dinner even arrived. It is exhausting being a world traveller!

Emma's bag

Emma has a lot in her bag these days. Not only does it really stink to get shots every two months, but she is sprouting two teeth at once and fretting that she can't creep along as quickly as she would like. She bruised her finger from trying to gnaw the teeth to freedom. Poor little one. Growing up is so difficult!

...talk this way

Next week we will have our conversational language test to assess our level of fluency in Urdu. This test consists of meeting with a native speaker and recording a natural conversation on one of any ten topics that we've said we may be able to talk about with him/her. Our test organizer will select the topic from the list we sent to him and email it to us on the test day. Then, we naturally enter into a chat with the local person and bring up that topic while recording. We continue on topic for 10-15 minutes, the naturally bid our farewells. This conversation is then judged grammatically, culturally and on how well we led the conversation (keeping our friend on topic). Intense, but not impossible. 

I know it is a natural process to gradually increase one's vocabulary and fluidity. It is still slightly anxiety provoking, though. 

Sleep preferences

How is it possible that once her hair touches the mattress pad of her crib that Emma goes from this:

To this?:

Silly girl! She prefers to stay in mama's arms these days. I am essentially five-star room and board.

Hi, little one!

Nice neighbors

I met two new neighbors this week so far!!! This is newsworthy because monsoon season came last week and it is cool enough to bring Emma out and mingle with other families who also are venturing out their doors. 

One lady is actually American and Indian but grew up in San Diego. She just moved here four days ago. She speaks English and Marathi. She has two kids who are elementary-age. 

The other lady is from our city, but grew up in Dubai. She is an Urdu-speaker. My co-worker who lives in our complex introduced me to her today. She is very hospitable and served us cake, hot potato chips (stove-style), and chai. She told me that we would become very good friends and that Emma soon would outgrow her shyness around she and her daughters. She has four daughters and a son. She is close to my age and her eldest will soon graduate from high school... So she was an early bride! She is so loving and I am so thankful for her friendship!

 I love it that God is granting me acquaintances and friends in such a short time after the hot-season was lifted!!! Praise Him!

Birthday party... CRAZY!

June 5th...

Birthdays in this country start late in the evening and end around midnight... or later. The party we were invited to was for a 5-year-old and started around 8:30PM. Emma's tradition is to fall apart in fusses around 8PM, so we knew this would not be a great idea, but wanted to get her warmed up to doing things in the evening since things happen during evenings here. Our plan was to step in, make our appearances, get some phone numbers of new buddies, and scram once Emma began to cry.

Emma cried in her car seat all the way to the party. When we arrived at the hall where the party was to be hosted, I changed her and calmed her. Matt then called the host to make sure we were at the correct hall. The host then told Matt that he would come to our van and direct us to his house. Uh-oh.

While directing us to his home, he explained that there were many crazy and festive things going on at the house and that after the festivities, we would return to the hall to eat (around 10:30PM/11PM). Keep in mind this is a 5-year-old's birthday party.

When we arrived at his house, there was a gilded horse-drawn carriage outside the front of the house... think really blingy Cinderella-ish carriage with two white horses at the front and preschoolers teeming inside the carriage. Wow. Also, a band was setting up next to the horses and neighbors and guests were beginning to arrive. Emma was whimper-gasping from having screamed the whole way in the car and only recently had gained composure.

I covered my head with my scarf/dopatta and adjusted my South Asian dress/frock, then he escorted us into his house. In the front room, two old men were sitting Indian-style on a bed with only their sweat pants on (that were a size too small). Creepy. I covered my face with the dopatta and covered Emma's head, too, to show without my needing to saying it that their dress-code was embarrassing for mixed company. Emma began to cry.

Matt stayed in that room as Emma and I were directed to the women's sector of the house. I met the host's wife and introduced her to Emma, who was full-on crying. As the host's wife began to introduce me to the other women, the music started. No, not music... more like a decibel full-on assault happened just outside the front door that was open. I wanted to run for cover like we were in an air raid.

Upon hearing the crazy noise, Emma bucked and didn't stop screaming from this point until we left. I couldn't hear her screaming, but knew that she was screaming from her shaking body and purple face. I mouthed to the host in Urdu 'can I use your back room to nurse my baby?' After three attempts to read my lips, she got the message and took me to a room full of brightly adorned old ladies.

I attempted to nurse Emma, who was still bucking and crazily screaming (I could hear her screaming now). "WHY IS SHE CRYING AND NOT ENJOYING?!" was the question that the ladies constantly had for me. This turned into "SHE IS CRYING SO LOUDLY NOW, MADAM." ...Um, thanks for noticing, maybe if you would turn down the music, ya think?... The old ladies began snapping their fingers in Emma's face and clapping their hands in her face. When this didn't work, they imitated sounds of dying woodland creatures (at least that is what the sound was reminiscent of). Emma was not impressed and continue screaming.

At this point, I tried to ask where my husband and purse had gone to. No one wanted to take the time to read my lips or listen. I left the room and went to the main hall where one of the old men was standing... finally with a shirt.

Man: "SHE IS CRYING SO MUCH NOW, MADAM. SHE IS NOT ENJOYING."
Me: [Ya think?!] "Yes, she is tired and used to sleeping in silence. Where is my husband, please?"
Man: "HE IS DANCING WITH SWORDS OUTSIDE. GO LOOK. YOU SEE? SWORD!"
Me: "WHAT?!"

At this point, I discover my husband holding a sword next to the loud speakers and men with heads cocked to the side as he attempts to fulfill their request for him to dance with a sword. This stunt was so that the host could have Matt on camera as having attended his son's birthday. It is considered status to have white people at your parties.

the party scene

random sword-dancing man

5-year-old dances as his dad puts money between his teeth

Matt passed off the sword, awkwardly making his escape, and came to see me in the house with the host quick on his heels.

Host: "SHE IS CRYING SO LOUDLY NOW. I THINK YOU SHOULD TAKE FOOD THEN TAKE HER AND LEAVE. LET'S GO NOW TO THE HALL. I'M SORRY."

Praise the Lord... he read my mind!

We left at that point. I wrapped Emma in my arms and held her screaming body tightly to protect her from the children and adults playing/dancing with swords outside. In all my vigilance to protect her, I forgot about the horse-drawn carriage and one of the horses reared his face right next to mine as I walked past. I SCREAMED like in a horror film because I've never been that close to a horse in my life and thought it was going to bite my cheek. I ran to the van and we began to drive away.

As we were driving, we discovered that the only exit from this alley on which they lived had been blocked by construction. So, we had to drive through the party that was happening on the street behind us. After turning around, we approached the crowd and an auto rickshaw was on the opposite side bullying its way through. We allowed them the right of way through the crowd and then began driving (inching) through the crowd. The band had to move their cart and some drivers had to move their scooters and motorcycles aside for us to make it through.

We arrived at the hall and ate our biriyani, cucumbers, and pasty sweet. Then, drove home promising the host to return to see him some less-crazy time of day. Emma cried most of the way home.

When we arrived home, the stress was high from all the shock of the past three hours... but it wasn't over. We entered the elevator and got stuck there. Thankfully for only a couple of minutes. Our banging on the doors railed Emma into another bout of crying, though.

By the time we got home, we both wanted to fall on the floor and sigh a breath of relief that we were back in our little safe haven. Your mind just begs "WHY?!" to cultural things like a lack of noise ordinance, horse drawn carriages that will never be pulled down the street due to the crowd, and the five-year-old dancing crazily with a real sword whose dad is putting money in his mouth.

We pledged to not bring Emma to these parties until she is much older. 

Exit stamp process

The FRRO Office was awesome. People from all over the world live in our city! Emma got to play with two burqa ladies from Yemen and their kids for the first half an hour, then with two Korean children, then an Iraqi girl. There were others from France, Spain, the USA, and Sudan. 

We knew from a couple here that we would have issues in this office. This sign is also a good warning for all who arrive thinking this will go quickly: 

I knew the wait was painful, but 'teething'?!

The issues they brought up initially were weird. "Why was she born in a different city and not in the city where you live?! This birth certificate has no signature, you will have to check with that man to see if he will accept it. If not, you must return to her birthplace for a signed copy." Thankfully the guy passed our certificate... It is weird how this country's states are not united at all. 

So tomorrow Matt will have to bring a letterhead proving he works here and our application for the exit visa should be complete.

6/11/2013:  They have now said that Emma's birth certificates are invalid because no one signed them. How unfair is that?! Also, this isn't fixable by a simple phone call to her city of birth and getting them to fax a correct copy to us. (If only it were that easy). Different states in this country operate like different countries. My language nurturer said that the easiest of corrections can be difficult because here no one accepts blame for a problem and all are lazy at work. Hmm. So Matt has to go back to the FRRO Office tomorrow.

We

Generally, we notice the differences easily. However, let me try to share with you the things our neighbors hold in common with us.

1) we love our kids and want better for them than what we had growing up

2) we all want to marry a virgin, but recognize in our hearts that we ourselves will never have a completely pure heart or mind

3) we hate corruption, but sometimes wish we could live above the law

4) we are suckers for a Cinderella story

5) we are afraid that if others knew our mistakes that no one would respect us 

6) we think women would do better to dress modestly

7) we laugh at each others' perceptions of what is foreign, especially if they share what they were thinking when they had a foreign experience

8) women don't want to entrust their hearts to each other because they fear the other girl's jealousy and/or gossip

9) when asked "how are you" after the worst day ever, we tend to lie and say "I'm fine," because we don't want to trouble the other person, or we are afraid to be seen as rude or weak, or we feel like the other person was just being polite and doesn't really care about our true condition

10) we like to dress up fancy and compliment our lady friends outfits, hair, etc.

11) we are afraid of becoming insignificant in life

12) We struggle to know when to set boundaries, when to keep the peace, and when to climb the hill and die on it when the offense was from a parent or close family member...

In short, we are the same women as they are... Just were raised by different mamas. She likes spicy curry and rice and eats it with her hands. We like to use utensils for everything but pizza. ;)

It is healthy for me to have my tutor. We share our hearts openly... whether laughing or crying. She is daily a reminder that there is no such thing as US and THEM. There is only the greater WE ALL.  We all need His love, mercy, and forgiveness. We all need each others' grace, forgiveness, and compassion.  

Thanks, God, for that reminder!  

Our big 4-month-old

Stats: 6/2/2013 completed 4 months, 17lbs 5oz, 25.5", foot 4" long! Oh, and her eyes are definitely dark brown like Mommy's, but shaped like Daddy's.

Gross Motor: slumped sitting but still wobbly, rolling any direction from either belly or back, "snow plowing" (see previous post for description), traveling the floor by plowing/rolling/pivoting (4' furthest traveled distance), assisted standing and flailing happily while standing, lifting both arms while feet and tummy stay on floor or vice versa with arms on ground and feet in the air, elevating bum when plowing.

Fine motor: sucks finger or thumb, plays with hands, grasps both feet by the toes when on her back or side, brings toys or parents' hands to her mouth, requires no assistance with aim when latching, reaches for and grasps toys even snow plowing toward them to grasp them, pulls Daddy's beard.

Social/Emotional:  recognizes and smiles at frequent visitors in addition to family members, prefers parents to soothe her, loves to hear her ocean waves noise-maker when fussy, startled by sudden movements, startled by doorbell, smiles when parents enter the room, cries when parent leaves the room or steps away, presses her cheek against Mommy's cheek, nuzzles into parents' shoulder, holds parents' arm when being held.

Language:  laughs when enjoying interactions and to herself, enjoys screeching conversationally in response to expressive talking, closed lips "mmmmm" sound, repeats "m" consonant and at times produces "mama" (though not labeling Mom).

Hobbies:  eating, spending lots of time snow plowing on her tummy, gnawing her hands/toys/parents, interactive clapping songs (open and shut them, if you're happy and you know it, pat a cake, where are the bees, my God is so big), airplane tummy time game with parent, repeated cheek kisses or blubbering, talking with parents, Skype/FaceTime screen talking, peek-a-boo.

Snow plowing

Snow plowing, as we refer to it, is a combination of the Marine crawl and the inch worm.  Usually, it involves pressing one's forehead to the ground as you alternately kick your feet so that your diaper side is in the air.  At the height that is most comfortable for the diaper side, you then stretch forward your arms rubbing your forehead along the ground, like the shovel of a snow plow.  When your tummy reaches the ground, you repeat the process.

This past week, Emma learned that she could combine snow plowing and rolling.  This can get her anywhere from 3-6 feet away from the starting point in seconds.  I have removed all semi-supervised on-the-bed playing privileges, and below is the story:

The middle of last week, I barricaded Emma with pillows in the center of the bed, and stepped away for less than a minute to fill her bath with water while she was on the bed.  When I returned, Emma had already plowed through the barricade and was holding onto the side of the bed with her feet on the ground, grinning from ear to ear.  Thank the Lord that she can bear weight on her legs!  I sat the bath down and hurriedly rushed to rescue her.  She looked at me as though to say, "What's the big deal, Mama?  I'm standing here fine.  How cool was that, let's do it again!" 

Grinning: Emma's super power

There is a roll at the start of the clip, but this gives a bit of an indication of how much Emma grins when she is feeling well.

This week has been no measure of the grinning-ness due to a couple of large hurdles: overcoming shots and cutting a tooth.  Her first tooth still refuses to break the surface though we can see the white of it beneath the gum now.  Poor little one.  She is starting to get over the shots, though.  There has been no recurrence of fever in the last 24 hours.  Praise the Lord!

Sitting pretty

This video was taken on 5/30/2013.  It was the first time she sat that straight.  Usually, she is leaning to one side or laying front-wise over her legs to sit.  She cannot pull herself into a sitting position, but is learning how to stay sitting when she is placed in a sitting position.  Our little sweet is getting so big!

Home is where His heart is.

1 Peter 4:12  "Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials you are going through, as if something strange were happening to you. Instead, be very glad—for these trials make you partners with Chr!st in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing His glory when it is revealed to all the world."

I'm going to expose my heart to you in this update.  Ever since we arrived in South Asia last July, I have been going through what I now know has been spiritual warfare.  I have struggled with a mixture of culture shock, identity loss (I used to help those in need and have a 8-4 job and schedule, mobile and able to drive myself anywhere I want to go, with friends and family nearby), changing roles (I have in the past year become: pregnant, a cross-cultural witness, an expat, an outsider, in need of help, a student, a housewife, unable to drive, with no family and very few friends within the culture), and the desire to obey the Lord whatever the cost (all the while falling short daily of His glory and being very aware of it).

I long to see veiled women hearing the Good News and to be His voice in their ears.  I long to be out of my home and building relationships with these women who emerge from their homes to meet their families' needs -- grocery gathering, running errands, attending significant family events.  I long to speak the language well enough to gain an audience with even the ones who fail to understand my limited language.  I long to counsel these abused and unwanted women who are told they have no value and are a burden to their families that there is a God who loves them, desires a personal relationship with them, and created them to be glorious.  I long to see them recognize Him and understand their value in His sight.

However, during hot season, it is very difficult to get out of the house.  The heat would put Emma's health at risk.  Also, it would be culturally inappropriate for me to hunt down these women in the street, especially with Emma in tow.  This would most definitely bring a scolding from the same women I hope to meet because they do not bring babies out of the house during the heat of the day.  I find myself with a small radius around our home, few veiled women live very close to us and the people in our complex are quite Western, busy and distant.  I feel weighed down by this longing.  The Enemy constantly lies to me saying that I am not a good follower and witness.

While praying about this, the Lord has shown me countless other moms of young children who feel the exact same way that I do all over the world.  He has shown me that we have the power of the Holy Spirit in us to be amazing prayer warriors and to pray without ceasing throughout the craziness of our days.  We can intercede not only for our own family and neighborhoods, but for the people that we may never meet in person.

It is my desire to spark passion for prayer in those of you who have ever asked, 'How does my life make any difference for the kingdom when lostness is so vast?'  There are great things that God only does in direct response to the prayers of His people (2 Chr. 7:14-16; 1 Cor. 6;19).  The greatest movements of His Spirit in the world have been preceded by the earnest prayers of His people.