David's birthday weekend

Elijah panned a camping trip for one of his Faith in God goals and we were all glad he did. It was extremely nice to escape the concrete, smog, cars...I could go on. We were greeted by grass, trees, wild flowers, an awesome playground, and gloriously open space.

The girl's favorite part of the trip was the 2-storied playhouse (upper right pic) where they made us several delectable delights.

The spider web

The campground belonged to the church (free!). We had the place almost all to ourselves. There were several cabins and we actually had a key to one, but in birthday-boy's words, "We came to camp and we are going to camp." I think he may have changed his tune that night when he slept next to the chronic tooth grinder. (At 4, Iris hasn't stopped that habit, but I'm sad to say she doesn't convulse as much when she's excited and she has learned that eleventeen isn't really a number--I was hoping that day would never come.) We all suffered that night; it dropped below zero Celsius.
Claire felt the need to run through the frosty grass without shoes, so Elijah was nice enough to warm her socks over the fire.

Claire appreciated the dry socks, but could have done without the burnt holes.

We had to leave the campground earlier than we wanted so we could get back in time for David's birthday bash.

7 families (4 of whom I didn't know--work and church) and 2 missionaries attended. I think someone told David he was turning 4 because that man wanted face painters and a jumping castle. He was on a vendetta to out-do Iris' party, but I am THE Ruiner of All Fun. He settled the score by buying 2 enormous piñatas (1 for kids and 1 for adults). He bought the candy behind my back and per David fashion, he didn't hold back financially with Lindor Master Swiss Chocolates among them.

Iris, I'm sorry, but he beat you big time. I really won't be surprised if he asks me to take cupcakes into his work in a few weeks while we all sing to him.

Iris' bday weekend: 4, going on 6

The day before Iris turned 4, David said he wanted me to go to the airport with him to pick up his colleague. I thought that was especially weird, seeing as though there are 5 of us and 5 seats in the car and why would he want a circus to pick up his colleague. Anyway, we went, right after the E and C got out of soccer camp. E was hesitant to go, bc a famous soccer player visited their soccer camp (by the way, every day their soccer camp began with everyone reciting the Lord's Prayer in a circle--NICE!). Topo Valenzuela:

And this was his lovely colleague at the airport (Notice what's in E's hands. His pocket knives visit every visitor):

Gotta get the colleague some tacos:

Buying Iris a piñata. This girl was in heaven.

We managed to keep the bday tradition alive by eating an IHOP dinner. Let me tell you, it’s just as bad in Mexico as it is in USA. But there’s something magical about having a choice of 5 syrups to put on your dry pancakes. I remember going to IHOP as a kid in Boston and loving it.

 Also, per tradition, we all went around the table saying things we liked about Iris. Even her siblings had long lists. At least half of the lists included Iris’ jumping-jacks. And in a rare moment of bravery, Iris gave us a demonstration (normally, she hates when people laugh at her):

 

 The next morning we went for a nice hike in a national forest that's about 10 minutes from our home. E, ever the boy, had to drag "walking sticks" twice as big as him.

 Can't have a family trip without torture.

After the hike we partook of the most heavenly blue-corn tortilla quesadillas in existence. And we hurried back to meet friends at the ice-skating rink that's in the mall across the street. The kids were pretty good except Iris when tried to throw in some figure skating. As usual, E was more interested in speed than grace, and C, the opposite.

We brought all the friends back to the BBQ pit that's outside our place where we ate and face painters did an excellent job.

Iris and her good buddy Leo.

Only one adult got in on the face-painting action. Guess who?

I got cupcakes to her classroom within a month (barely). I don't think she minded a month of celebrations.

 

The main aim of Iris’ life is being big. She often remarks: “when I was little, when I was 3, I used to…” And she tells me who is smaller than her. Yesterday, at swim class, she went up to a woman, stuck her foot in the air, and said “look.” The woman said, “Oh yes, that’s your leg.” Iris replied, “my legs are getting long. I grow when I eat. I’m 4.” That’s not unusual for her. She checks the tags of all her clothes before putting them on to make sure they aren’t 3. Right after her bday she kept telling me that she was almost 5. It has already moved up to 6. Iris is quite possibly the quirkiest person I’ve ever met. Nothing associated with her can be cute or pretty. “No, I’m beautiful,” she’ll say. She randomly growls and is usually composing a song of some sort. Every once in a while she’ll stop her song and say, “No, I’m not going to use potty language.” But more often than not, she does. Welcome to the family!

 On a tree that fell down after a hard rain. David has always called her his monkey. She resisted for a long time, but has recently started making the monkey sound and scratching her axillas in acquiescence.

 

First day

Last Monday was the first day for E and C. Iris is sporting her PJs bc Friday was her first day. Notice it's pitch black and notice the kids are cold...wearing sweaters... in August.
I: Segundo de pre-escolar
C: Primero de Primaria
E: Tercero de Primaria
    School has started! Unfortunately, so has my list of complaints. Like, why, oh why is cursive so important? Hello last century! And embroidering their names in everything (they wear uniforms 2 days a week plus have lab coats and a special bag and smock)? Hello sharpie! And the main complaint is that E and C spend half of their day learning English. Hello Americans! In the US, their school was half Spanish, but they learned science and math in Spanish. Here, English is just English. And all other subjects are crammed into the other half of the day. The good news is at least my kids will learn English. Last one, I promise, until tomorrow: it's early! This kids don't enjoy waking up at 6 to be ready for the bus at 6:57.
    There is a list of pros too: their friends speak Spanish. Let me get back to you with the rest of the list. There's more, it's just been a crazy week.

Salad head

I love that I can buy tomato-scented shampoo and chile-scented conditioner. The former was a little much, but I'm sitting here reading, distracted b/c I dream of tasting my chile hair.

a typical Mexican Saturday

A typical Mexican Saturday: A trip to the farm, a little soccer, an attempted kidnapping, then churros.

Last week the kids went to Tio Pepe's camp where every day they got to ride horses, hold bunnies and ducks, muck the stables, feed the chickens and collect their eggs, learn to plant, do science experiments, and most importantly, get out of the house. Yesterday was their presentation.

Iris the Patito:

 Claire the Conjejito starred in an anti-littering skit:

Elijah boogied down as a potro:

Then we hung out at the granga:

 

That evening, we ate spectacular food at Café Tacuba, housed in a mansion that’s 400 years old in downtown DF. When we headed out, the streets were very crowded. I am used to getting attention as we are visible minorities, so when a friendly woman who was walking with a stern man came up to me and started a conversation, I thought no ill. The kids and I were ahead of David and the friends we were hanging out with. So they had a better view of what was going on. The woman had her hand around Claire’s neck in what I lie to call the “doggie collar” as she engaged me in conversation. She asked if the kids spoke Spanish. I said they understood, but the girls (whose hands I was tightly holding onto) only spoke when they wanted too. Elijah ran up to her and told her he spoke Spanish splendidly. She greeted him, took his hand, and started walking ahead of us. Our friend quickly ran to them, grabbed E’s hand back, and the woman disappeared. Note to the grandparents: that may not have been a kidnapping attempt. Note to me: That may have been a kidnapping attempt. Our friends (Vanessa and Joel) were convinced it was an attempt since it's not uncommon in that part of town with that amount of people.

The crazy thing is that we had had the kidnapping talk with the kids that very day and warned them about people forcefully grabbing them. We never thought to mention people who slyly gain their trust. They got that talk later. But it’s such a hard balance: scaring the guts out of your kids so they look at everyone as potential torture artists while at the same time helping them understand that most of the people in the world are good and that we are all children of God.

We asked Vanessa to tell us about horrid kidnapping episodes her clients had suffered over churros and hot chocolate.

soccer = spiritual

I feel like at least half of my blog posts begin with a “so much to catch up on” statement. Today is no different. In order of occurrence:
D’s new job
A broken toe (me)
A quick trip to el DF to apartment hunt and school shop
Our vacant house in Scottsdale was broken into by a mob of teenagers. The closing on the home was the week after. The subsequent stages of betrayal, anger, and prosecution.
2 family reunions
An international move: Saying goodbye
Unpacking our new home: Saying hello
3 stitches (E)
Camp for the kids at La Granja next week.
And, of course, the adventures of living in Mexico.

Alas, I will not be able to fill in the spaces today. I was called to serve in the Young Women on Sunday and we have a youth BBQ starting at my pace in an hour. The president is out of the country for a month and yesterday the other councilor was put on bed-rest indefinitely. Under the circumstances, I think soccer is an appropriately uplifting activity.

In other news, David just came home from Walmart with prickly pear cactus leaves, pumpkin flowers, and jalapeños = I'll be learning to cook some good food this week. Or at least, food that would taste good in another kitchen.

A house isn't really a home until you have internet

It took a few weeks to get the internet down here. Here are a few of the things I have written since our arrival:

I told people the reality of moving back to Mexico wouldn’t hit me until it hit my intestines. HELLO MEXICO!!! Although we all miss USA, my intestines are the only ones voicing their extreme disgruntle at the move. It’s been 2.5 weeks and I was slightly panicked at first, thinking I’d be home-bound due to my fear of driving and since we no longer live in a walking-friendly area—on the north there is a major highway and on the south, a busy street. A normal day gets started around 9am. I give the kids their checklists with cleaning and homework assignments. They usually doddle for most of the morning, playing Legos and taking long baths. Then they have lunch while I read them a book; we have finished “Heidi” and a few other books. Then I try to light a little fire under their bums because E knows he won’t be able to go out to play soccer with the kids returning from school (school gets out this week) unless his checklist is completed. We can see the field from our 9th floor apartment. I can also yell at E if he needs to come in or, like the other day, is “play fighting.” The girls finish up their chores and then we have a tea party or go down and ride scooters or go to the playground. Then at night, possibly a trip to the gym, a movie at home, or dinner and more reading.

Written a few weeks ago:
The kids and I arrived here exactly 2 months after David had left Scottsdale to move down here. The day was also significant bc it was our 11th anniversary. We celebrated with David’s favorite activity: going to a church dinner (David doesn’t go near food at church functions). We had a good time and met great people. Church the next day was a spiritual feast. I will just comment on a few of the things I was thinking about. As we sang the opening hymn, I clearly envisioned the week I hit the halfway mark of my mission in Chile. I was in the chapel of a ward I had worked very hard in and grown to love and sitting next to a companion who was my favorite person in the world and I started bawling uncontrollably, thinking about how I only had 9 months left and I couldn’t possibly go home in 9 months because the gospel wasn’t as true in English.
Another insight was from a story our bishop told about a chicken who was best friends with a pig. One day the chicken asked the pig to open a restaurant with him. He said the name would be Eggs and Bacon. One partner would be a lot more committed to the business than the other. How committed am I to what I believe?