Bad language

Well, I knew it was coming eventually. And I supposed this might be the year that it would happen, and happen it did.

Round the breakfast table, which is in itself a crossroads of chaos and cocoa puffs in the morning with Koby, nearly six, and Aaron, freshly two. Amidst all of the other things happening simultaneously--Aaron getting covered in things I didn't even realize I'd given him, Koby pontificating on the importance of following class rules and the consequences (a new word) of not doing so, and my coffee getting cold as I ran for the seventh paper towel... Had I packed Aaron's lunch? Taken my Paxil? Anyway...

Just as the routine was winding down and I felt peace creeping back into the dining room, like a ray of light after a tropical downpour, Koby said in a 'playground' kind of tone, "Do you know what a bad word is?"

Oh, I've heard this one a thousand times. Koby went through a phase when he was four where he starting realizing there were 'bad' words. He didn't abuse them, except in constantly asking us "Hey, do you know what a bad word is? [pause] "Stupid!" And then he'd look at us with a mixture of feigned shock at his own utterance, barely covering a mischievous grin.

Yes, it was always 'stupid' or 'hate' or some other word that we, in wielding our parental powers over the pre-schooler, had started to instill in him, just so he would know better. We are careful not to use foul language at home, and god knows his upscale former daycare in Brookline would have been more likely to teach him a word of Spanish, Italian, Russian, or Hebrew before he'd learn anything R-rated.

But now, now Koby was in kindergarten. Real kindergarten in a real public school in Boston. That's where these bad seeds sprout.

So when he asked me the question this morning, "Hey, do you know what a bad word is?" I thought it would be a slight upgrade from 'stupid'--'idiot', perhaps? Then Koby opened his mouth, looked straight into my eyes, and said, "Bitch."

And all I could think was, this is surreal. This is my little baby Koby! He still watches cartoons and sucks his fingers. And today he aged ten years right in front of my eyes. "Bitch." I couldn't believe it.

You know what comes next. "Where did you learn that?!" Because I know it couldn't have happened at home. Thank goodness Koby is still angelic enough to actually tell me, "Michael (a classmate) told me."

"Well," I said, "that's a bad word, and you shouldn't say that to anybody. If you call somebody that, it'll really hurt their feelings. It's super-bad." 'Super' was my most powerful emphasis word for Koby--I hoped it would do its job.

He nodded and said he understood. I told him if I heard him say it, there'd be consequences. Then I asked myself, exactly why was this so upsetting? Why should simple little words carry so much weight? I suppose it's because we believe they do, and so they do.

He's still my baby Koby, but the next time he asks me if I know what a bad word is, my answer will be, "Yes. I know ALL of them. Thank you." We'll just wait and see.

Don't let it bug you

OK. This isn't going to be pleasant. In fact, you may find this post crass, or in bad taste in general. I can't help it. I need to talk about what I was forced to endure today.


Anyone who knows me and Dennis well will attest to the fact that Dennis is, shall we say, a teentsy bit OCD about cleanliness. Think Desperate Housewives' Bree on steroids.

We had to take Aaron down to southern Mass for a bio-family visit today. This would have been fine, if it weren't for the fact that we had been told that Aaron has come back from these visits in the past with, well, a bug. Several bugs, actually. In his hair.

That's all Dennis had to hear.

Before we left our house this morning, he had plotted the whole thing out:

1. We take Aaron to the visit.

2. As soon as Aaron is brought back to the car, a surgical hat goes onto his head, being careful to avoid as much contact between his hair and the rest of the car environment and us as possible. (Poor little thing.)

3. We ourselves also don surgical hats (with baseball caps over them, to make ourselves look oh-so-inconspicuous), and encourage Aaron to keep his on his head for the 50-minute ride by pointing to ourselves and saying, "Look! Funny hat! Funny hat!"


4. We drive back to Boston at lightning speed, hoping not to get stopped for (a) speeding, and (b) looking ridiculous behind the wheel of a car.

5. We stop at Walgreen's to buy RID lice shampoo. Why wouldn't Dennis have done this ahead of time? He was so paranoid about a random bug making its way onto his scalp (I'm scratching my head just thinking about it now!) that he went inside Walgreen's wearing the surgical hat to buy the shampoo. I can't imagine what the sales clerk thought.

6. We arrive at home, run up to the second floor, strip off our clothes, and all 3 jump into the bathtub, where we sit for 10 minutes with lice shampoo on our heads.

7. We rinse, towel-dry, and Dennis throws our clothing into the washing machine and hits the SANITARY WASH button (2 hours in hot water). He only ruined one garment in the process.

We are happily bug free, and even better, my hair is remarkably silky smooth.

Aaron's transition

OK, folks. Here it is. BEFORE:



AFTER:



Now I know that some of you may actually prefer the longer hairdo. But as a child of the 60s and 70s who grew up with a "Dutch Boy" cut, which contributed to my often being mistaken for a girl and god knows how many hours of therapy, I have my reasons.

The long road home

Aaron had a hard day today. After bouncing back and forth between our home and his foster home for the past month, he finally landed in his new nest, here with us. He cried and shrieked for nearly 2 hours solid while his foster family was here. Very different from Koby's transition here 3 years ago, which involved no crying at all.

After his foster family left, he settled down almost immediately, and is enjoying a long night's sleep tonight. It's 9:30 and I am exhausted myself. New pics of Aaron with his new and improved boy-style haircut, and pics of Koby in his role as 'big brother' to follow.

Czech it out

All right, I know "czech it out" is an overused phrase here in Prague. It's on T-shirts everywhere, but who could blame them? The bad pun is overshadowed by the absolute beauty that completely surrounds you--both architecture and people. I'd definitely like to spend some more time here in the future.

Ich bin kein Berliner

No, I'm not a Berliner, or a pastry, or anything remotely close. But we did have a fun time riding the trains around the city, walking for miles and taking in all different parts of the city in all kinds of weather. There's certainly a New York-ish (in European terms) feeling about the city, compared to other places we've been.

I can't quite figure out what my fascination with East Berlin, the DDR, and the Wall is, but I certainly liked going to all the touristy "Checkpoint Charlie" type things. Any of you who knows me well knows that I dearly want the signboard in this photo to reflect my reality rather than just my vacation.


I suppose I can call it "practice."

The whole city seems very alive, and we really only saw a small, touristy slice of it. I did find this ad rather amusing. In case it's too small to make out, it's an anti-AIDS campaign promoting condom use for Germans (the potato) traveling overseas (gee, where do they grow such tropical fruits? Hmm, Thailand??).



I mean, I've seen MANY Germans in that part of the world, in those parts of town. I'm just glad that they recognize this as an issue in the Vaterland.

Next is Prague!

Fußball? Nein. Limonade? Ja!

This was one of the first lines from my ALM German 1 textbook, circa 1980. Luckily, the German I learned in two years of high school and one semester in college has somehow come out to help me in times of need.

Upon our arrival in Frankfurt, we hopped a couple of trains to Bacharach, a picture-postcard-perfect town on the Rhine.



From Bacharach we headed by ferry up the Rhine to St. Goar, taking in the sights of all the various castles along the way, as well as the famous Lorelei rock. At St. Goar we visited Rheinfels Castle.



From St. Goar we took the train to Köln, and stopped to see the cathedral. From there we got right back on the train and headed to Dormagen/Zons, the sight of the wedding festivities. Koby was a "flower boy", and was appropriately dressed up for the occasion.




The wedding was beautiful—we expected no less from project manager Rebecca and engineer Felix. We had a fantastic time, but finally had to leave the festivities around midnight, when the disco portion of the evening was just getting underway.



We just arrived in Berlin, in the rain, and are looking forward to exploring the city over the next couple of days.

Where did half the summer go?

I know the summers in New England are short, but I can't believe this one is half over already. Here are the highlights so far.

We went to Ohio in early June to see family.





Took in the annual Pride parade in Boston...



Koby graduated from Pre-Kindergarten at Mattahunt...



We hosted a bachelorette party for Rebecca as she visited from Germany...



Went camping in Freeport, at our usual haunt...



And hosted a few playdates.



And that's the slow part of the season. Just wait for the rest of it!

Bathroom clean-up

OK, so I realize I haven't written anything in nearly 2 months. I blame Facebook completely. I've been so busy getting and receiving Flair, rating movies, and "networking" that I haven't spent any time in the blogosphere. I also blame Netflix, which I joined around the same time. How did I live without it?

Well anyway, while I was in Japan, I left Dennis here with Father James, flown out specially from Ohio, and Koby, to gut and redo the second-floor bathroom. One indicator that I was NOT here for the construction is that I definitely would have taken BEFORE pics to compare with the after ones. No such luck.

Combing through my iPhoto, this is what I came up with: Felix, Rebecca and Koby peering out the door, just enough to reveal the maroon porcelain (tub, sink and toilet), the maroon floor tile, the generic white cabinets, and pink old-lady wall tiles.



The end result is a look I like to call "gay man staying in executive suite at 5-star hotel".



Complete with stone-tiled shower area...



...and a toilet that'll clean you better than you clean yourself.

Tokyo, hisashiburi ni

I'm visiting Tokyo for the first time in two years. That's a new record for me, I think, since at least the early 90s.

I'll post more as soon as sort out what's going on in my life here, which sometimes feels as tangled and confusing as this map of the Tokyo subway system.

Pieces of April

I can't believe it's been over a month since my last post. Life has been busy, as usual. In early April Sally and I trekked down to TESOL in NYC for a 3-day "family reunion" of some kind, posing as a teachers' conference. It was great seeing everyone, though afterwards Sally and I returned to our respective homes to "sleep the sleep of the dead."

One of the events was a cocktail party in the Rainbow Room, which offered one of the best views of New York I'd ever seen. The cocktails probably helped...


Since TESOL life has been about two things: work, and planning for the summer. So far, we've got a quick trip to Ohio (early June); Québec city and its 400th anniversary celebration (late July); a visit from some of my Ohio family (mid-August); and Rebecca's wedding in Germany, with a tour around Berlin, Prague and Reykjavik (late August). We'll try to get a few camping trips in there as well.

Last week we had another little brush with the realities of life when someone smashed our front passenger window and stole our GPS out of the car. Nothing else was gone. I suppose they took it to sell and buy drugs. I seriously doubt they were planning an intricate road trip and were simply frustrated with using Mapquest.


Oh well. Nobody was hurt, but when it happens in your own driveway you can't help but feel violated... Needless to say, we won't be leaving the replacement machine in the window overnight.

Savez-vous tricoter?

The last month I've been concert-crazy: we saw k.d. lang (phenomenal), Pink Martini (amazing), and last night, Tricot Machine (extraordinaire). Tricot Machine is a great new group from Québec who have raced up the charts with their self-titled debut album.



They played at the opening gala of the Quinzaine de la Francophonie, a two-week festival celebrating the French language all over New England.

We didn't get the fully orchestrated effect of their indie-folk-pop tunes last night, as they played only with piano and a few percussion instruments. But they sounded great, and even better, I got to chat with them after the show. Woo-hoo!

Check out their single, L'ours:

Snow time like the present

We have learned to embrace the winter. We took advantage of a snowy Saturday to romp through the Arboretum with Ben, Anh, Steven, Nicky, and the kids. George and Koby had a great time playing together. What's the opposite of snow angels, I wonder?



Here are the devoted uncles, with their trusty steed Elsie.



And here are the Rhode Island Pipers... a handsome group.



A few weeks later, we went up to Sunday River in Maine for some ski action. Koby was in great form on the slopes, as part of the "Mogul Munchkins" training group.



Dennis and I are wearing our matching Swiss Miss hats. Just makes me want to yodel.

We spent last weekend in Montréal, our future home (hopefully). We felt we needed to find out what it was really like in the winter. All of our friends have been saying, "No, surely not! How can you live in Montréal? The winters are so horrible!" Well, we did drive into about a foot of snow upon our arrival. But we have that in Boston, too. However, in Boston, we don't have trucks hauling away the snow as part of the standard déneigement procedures.




The snow didn't keep us from having a lovely lunch at Juliette et Chocolat, where I warmed my bones with a Soleil épicé—a spicy cocktail of warm, dark chocolate, cardamom, cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and Bailey's. Mmmmmm.



Nor did it stop us from visiting the Biodome, outside the Olympic Stadium.



Or sledding at Parc Mont-Royal.



We're looking forward to the next visit. The winter's nice, but I'm sure spring is even better.

Feeling natsukashii

Some friends sent an old video from our Korea days, which prompted me to search for ones even further back in my Asian past. Here's a Japanese song from the 80s that, if you've known me for long and have seen me around a microphone, you've probably heard.



I don't have an Akiko Kobayashi wig in my basement collection yet, but I will be on the lookout...

Gimme five

Koby turned five last week! We had an ENORMOUS Buzz Lightyear birthday cake, most of which I had to freeze, because I didn't know that a "half-sheet" size cake would feed 40 people.



I took cupcakes to his "big-boy" school the next day. I spent an hour with 14 four- and five-year-olds. I have no idea how Mrs. Lydon does it. God bless 'er.



Koby loved ALL the toys he got. But today he decided to wear his new ski goggles & helmet so he could be a robot, and help Dennis clean up the yard. We'll see if that works when he's eight.