When a (Yarn) Bomb is a Complete Dud

I don’t think anything will top the euphoric feeling I had the night my Hookers and I yarnbombed for the first time. It truly was amazing. However, the second time we attacked our town resulted in us putting the “art” in “street art,” if I do say so myself. We were (are) ever so proud of the work we did for our second outing and were really looking forward to all of the excitement and accolades this one would bring (hey- praise is addictive!).  And yet, unfortunately, we were left with a big ol’ “Wah waaaaaaaaaaah!” at the end of it all.

To be honest, that part quite sucked.

You see, after our triumphant Christmas bombing, we put the word out asking for ideas for our next venture. Mr. Mayor actually suggested doing something for Australia Day, which is a lot like our Independence Day….just without the independence. (OOOOOOOOOO BURN!!!!)

We thought that would be an exciting thing to do and, since we were so hopped up on the kudos and accolades and oooohs and aaaaaahs of our first venture, we thought that Australia Day would be a suitable, honorific occasion to showcase our amazing talents.

And then the Aussie members of our group kind of dampened our spirits when they informed us that Australia Day is January 26. Just as a refresher, Christmas is December 25. That meant we had just over a month to pull off another momentous, artistic, magnificent work of amazement.

No worries, mate. We laughed in the face of that small amount of time. Heck. We farted in its general direction. WE ARE THE AMAZING HOOKERS! WE WILL DO IT AND ASTOUND YOU!

So, we started thinking. And thinking. And fretting. And doubting ourselves. And thinking maybe there is something to that whole “pride comes before a fall” thing.

And then....... I got it!!! We should celebrate Australia with something that is uniquely Australian. A dot painting. Correction: a CROCHET dot painting.

I did a lot of measuring and calculating and figuring and then I presented my idea to the gals and they unanimously agreed with it. We just had to get started like RIGHT NOW in order to pull it off, so off we went, again.

Whereas the first time we had a lot of fun getting together and crocheting various pieces together, this time we had an actual goal to attain and a time-frame in which to do it. While we still had fun, the prospect of not meeting our deadline was just a wee bit stressful. And, since I am not the only perfectionist in our little group (ahem, ladies….you know who you are), there was even some talk of perhaps getting it ready for Anzac Day, another momentous Australian holiday…..which is in April.

But, no. The perfectionists (and masochists) in us took over. We soldiered on. We crocheted a hundred million dots. I set them out and rearranged them and sent the gals photos of the final layout. Then I rearranged them again and sent them another picture of THE FINAL layout. Then I rearranged them again. Then they came and put me in a strait jacket and forbade me from touching anymore dots because I was getting just a little bit obsessive ridiculous.

Once the layout was finally, finally finalized, we sewed (by hand!) all those dots on the background. We then cursed sewing anything by hand and vowed to never do it again.

And then, just under 6 weeks after we agreed to develop carpal tunnel amaze our town once more, we were done.

EXCEPT. One small detail.

You see, the first time around we were pretty darn smart about it. We chose a location and then crocheted things to fit our target. It was a pretty good plan, actually. Pick something. Measure it. Crochet things that fit that measurement so that it would be easy to put it all together in a short amount of time so that we could then book it to our getaway car.

This time around, we were more “prideful” than we were “smart.” We chose an amazing project, but unfortunately had no location in which to display our project. So we brainstormed. And thought. And argued. And thought some more. You see, due to the nature of our “yarn bombing,” we wanted a more secure location for it. A place where it would be protected from the elements….and from those nasty, no-good, crochet-stealing thieves out there. I hear they run rampant here in the Outback. Just looking for some yarny goodness to swipe to give to their dingo-eating babies. (Wait a second…..)

We finally requested permission from one of the local malls to use one of their empty storefronts as a display for our Pièce de résistance. They acquiesced and we “sneakily” set up our “yarnbombing” around 9am when the stores opened, right before Australia day.

And then we waited.

We waited for the accolades to come in. Waited for the word to spread on social media. Waited for our GENIUS to be discovered and appreciated and shouted about from the rooftops.

And we waited.

AND NOTHING.

I basically ended up tweeting out there, “Hey….did anybody see our wonderful piece of art/yarnbombing? Because it truly is amazing and you should be stroking our egos right about now” only to be told that people looked and couldn’t find it.

I finally know what, “taking the wind out of the sails,” looks like in a group of women. It is not pretty.

Turns out that, though our work was protected from the elements and from dingo-eating thieves, it was also protected from EVERYTHING. Including people’s eyes. The one thing we were hoping to attract. We may have flattered ourselves in thinking that, perhaps, it may have looked like an official Australia Day decoration in the mall store front, so nobody really took notice, but, well….the fact remains that our yarnbombing was much more of a dud.

*HUGH SIGH*

SO.

This time we learned from our mistake and have chosen a location first, and then a project second…..

And it is coming……. 

Photo courtesy of the amazingly awesome Sarena Kelley

There are a total of 705 crochet dots in 25 different colours crocheted by seven different women and hand sewn onto this gigantic Australia, which is set adrift upon a blue crochet ripple ocean. 

PS: I crocheted the ripple background. It's about 7' square.  THIS IS FREAKIN' HUGE. And, regardless of the accolades (or lack thereof) we received, IT IS AWESOME.

My name is Gege, and I am a Hooker

Why, hello again! I know- I can’t believe it, either. Two posts in two consecutive days?? Craziness!

Well, like I said yesterday, I truly have been doing a whole lot better as of late and, as I mentioned before, my new crochet group, and specifically this event recorded here, has so much to do with it.*

You see, my crochet group isn’t just any ordinary crochet group. Yes, we crochet. Yes, we eat. Yes, we laugh and eat have a good time and eat. BUT! We are SO MUCH MORE!

You see, as of this moment, we have existed only in the whispers and the shadows of our little town. In the dark recesses and bowels of my living room have we conspired and devised to create such bright and beautiful stuff out of a whole lot of fluffy, yummy yarn. But still….dark….shadows…….mystery….oooooEEEEEoooooo!

It all started sometime last year- maybe around August or so. A lady had offered to donate her yarn stash that she was no longer going to use. (She was going to focus on other artistic endeavors and not her knitting or crochet anymore. I think, due to her obvious insanity, she is now in treatment at the local asylum.) I, being the yarn hog that I am, jumped at the opportunity to get my hands on more (FREE!) yarn. Her only request was that, whoever received it must make something with it to donate for the greater good of our town.

Well. The truth of the matter was that I not only intended to do something for the greater good for our town, but I also had no intention of keeping her stash for myself. (!!!)

I’ll wait until you’ve picked your jaw up off the floor and have composed yourself again….

Ahem.

You see, I have wanted, nay- DREAMED, of doing something a little bit crazy with my own yarn stash, but truly was having separation anxiety and panic attacks just thinking of letting even a little bit out of their air-tight containers because IT’S MINE! ALL MINE, I TELL YOU!!!

So, when this very generous lady offered up her stash, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.

I wanted to yarn bomb.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with yarn bombing, it’s basically graffiti made with yarn. It’s a way of creating street art without destroying property. It also takes a lot of covert planning, a lot of time, and a LOT of yarn.

Thankfully, this lady’s “couple of bags of yarn” turned out to be a whole living room-full of yarn.

There are two more boxes full not in the picture. (!!!)

I put the word out to fellow crocheters who may be interested and was pleasantly surprised that there were quite a few who wanted to join me in my nefarious yarn dealings. So, we got together and started scouting various spots in town to find just the right spot. I’m sure we looked oh so nonchalant with our measuring tapes and cameras as we continually looked over our shoulders to see if anyone was alerting the police.

Then we started planning, and stitching, and sewing, and getting more and more excited. We planned on attacking our target right before Christmas, so most of the things we made had something to do with Christmas- colors, snowflakes (because Australia is known for having a white Christmas), Santa Claus, mad dashes to the mall to be trampled while trying to get your hands on that one special “IT TOY” of the season, etc.

When we had everything stitched up and assembled, we then had to plan our attack carefully. You see, we didn’t know whether or not we’d get in trouble for this if we were to get caught. It is, after all, graffiti. Yes, it’s graffiti that can be easily removed without damaging any public property, but still, we were frightened out of our minds. This, of course, made it that much more exciting and interesting and, well, FUN. So, I, being the mastermind behind it all, decided to buy the four of us who volunteered to….display our work….some masks and hats so that if they checked the CCTV, our beautiful mugs wouldn’t be recognizable.

A beautiful mug

(Although, I did put on a full face of makeup just in case we were arrested. I wanted to ensure I looked really dang good for my first mugshot.) 

A beautiful mugshot

Then we snuck out of our houses under the cover of darkness, and without any support from our spouses. None of our husbands wanted to have anything to do with it- they didn’t want to be accessories to the crime nor be caught as the getaway drivers. Wussies. (Though one of them did offer to alert the others if we needed bail. How thoughtful!)

We parked as far away as we felt we safely could- far away enough to not link our (my) car with the “crime,” yet close enough that, if we had to outrun the PoPo, we had a fighting chance to reach it in time. (In reality, we just had to outrun our pregnant partner in crime. I’m sure they would have taken it easy on her.) And then, we were off. Four women in shiny masks and Christmas hats, carrying bags filled with obviously nefarious goods, trying to be all sneaky by dodging behind walls and humming the Bond theme song….oh yeah. We had this “criminal” thing down.

We got to our destination and quickly started our attack. We came armed with plastic zip ties so we wouldn’t have to waste time sewing, crocheting or stapling our works together (though we did have to sew just a bit....see that fearless masked woman below. She's amazing). We worked furiously fast so we could escape (hopefully) without notice and we had a strict, “NO EYE CONTACT!” policy just in case anyone happened to walk by us. 

YIPPE YI YO KI YAY, MO......oh wait....wrong movie

Our hearts were in our throats and then we nearly died when we saw a security car with two big, burly Aussie men pull up beside us. I’m not sure if it was the sight of us in our disguises or the fact that we had hooks and scissors and probably were just crazy enough to JACK THEM UP! But they smiled, waved and drove off.

Yeah. That’s right, big guys. DON’T BE MESSING WITH THE YARNIES!

And then, before we knew it, we were done.

Whew! So glad I left my rollerblades at home. We're in the clear.

 

HO HO HO- get it? Because of Christmas...and HOOKERS. GET IT???

We were so freaking exhilarated and high on adrenaline and proud that we scared off the security henchmen that we were literally skipping back to our getaway vehicle.

WHO WAS THAT MASKED WOMAN??

It truly, with no exaggeration, was the BEST NIGHT EVER! I had not had so much fun in ages! It was that night specifically that signaled to me that I was, honest and for reals, finally whole again. It was everything- the planning and coordinating of the project, the conspiracy with other like-minded people, the insane thrills of wondering if we would get arrested and, if we did, the absurdity of telling people why we got arrested….and the only thing that made it better was the aftermath.

You see, our little town tends to be a quiet little town with not too much excitement going on- especially during the summer months when it’s hotter than hades out here and most people migrate to cooler locations during this time- places like the Sahara or Death Valley. So, the next morning when people started going to work and came across our little Christmas decoration, news spread quickly. As a matter of fact, it was THE news for the next couple of days where even the local ABC radio station spent the morning trying to figure out who the heck was responsible for it. They had people calling in from all over Australia (for reals!) saying that they knew someone artsy/fartsy enough to be responsible for it. IT WAS AWESOME! We decided to create a twitter handle so we could live tweet the show and start answering some questions and let them know who we were….without letting them know who we were.

IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!

Our project brought some wonderful Christmas cheer to our little town and even the mayor was excited about it and wondered who these “Hookers” were. Once we knew we had an ally in the mayor, we knew we didn’t have to fear imprisonment the next time we decided to strike. (And there was a next time…..)

It was due to all the secrecy that I had not blogged about this before- I so wanted to yell it from the rooftops, but the secrecy was a big part of the fun!**

So, there you have it. A true, dark and mysterious tale filled with yarny goodness that resulted in Christmas cheer, and thankfully no arrests. And so, yes, Mr. Mayor. Alice1 has finally been unmasked. We have another hit planned shortly.....you have been warned.....

*The other part was that I sought treatment for my PPD and have, thankfully, come out the other side. I truly am, finally, MO BETTAH than I’ve been in years.

**I’ll let you know why I’m breaking my silence, while still keeping my co-conspirators anonymity, shortly…..

Beans, Beans, Good for Your Heart

Why, hello there, dahlinks! How have you all been in the (enter large number of months here) since I’ve seen you last? Me? I’ve been doing well, actually. I mean, for a while there, I may have gone just a tad (but really a lot) cuckoo, but now? Now, everything has been going swimmingly and I finally feel like I can sit down and actually type at this here computer without banging keys randomly while sobbing uncontrollably. It’s a marvelous feeling, actually. Not having panic attacks and sobbing, I mean.

One of the main reasons I’m doing so well has to do with why I started this blog in the first place: crochet. You see, about a year ago (has it really been that long??) I started up a new crochet group (because, due to my intense embarrassment, I couldn’t bear going back to that other one again…) and have actually been hosting it in my house each week. (!!!)

I KNOW! Me! Not only socializing but actually hosting people in my hovel! You would think that would indicate a turn for the worse- obviously I’ve gone truly insane… But I assure you, it actually signaled a turn for the better for me, and I’m so thankful for the power of friendship, creativity, and above all, YARN, to actually bring me back from….well, wherever the heck I was.

It’s because of this (still growing) group of ladies that I have finally felt like me again. It’s been a long, long time coming, but, man. It’s really good to be back.

I started hosting at my place so that I would be able to put SweetPea down for her naps while Little Mister played with the other kiddos his age. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but our morning crochet group gradually turned into a Crochet-and-Lunch group. I think it started because I was hungry (breastfeeding does that to you) and told my guests that I was going to make myself some food, but it was more than enough to share, so PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! And then it just blossomed from there.

Now, after telling them what I was going to make that day, you’d think they’d have checked their watches, made some excuses, and then bolted for the door.  But they did not. They stayed, they ate, they were amazed, and then they asked for the recipe. I told them, “Oh don’t worry! I’ll post it on my blog for you!”

And then I didn’t blog for an awfully long time.

Well, in honor of my dad’s two year anniversary last month, I knew that I *had* to post this recipe. One, because I’ve promised, and two, because he’d laugh and laugh at all the gas. And then he'd probably say his favorite joke, "You have to let them out- they don't pay no rent!" 

You have been warned.

You see, what I offered to make them (well, actually, I was craving it for myself….I really didn’t take their preferences into consideration- heh!) was a bean salad. I love this bean salad. I love LOVE this bean salad. I crave this bean salad. I made it for My Mister and he was all, “Really? Bean salad? I’m not sure this is going to be one of my favor……HOLY FRIJOLE, BATMAN! MAKE IT AGAIN!”

My kids love this bean salad. They love beans in general. They also love farts, but with their genetics, that was inevitable. And now my friends (and their kids!) love this bean salad, so I hope you will, too.

WHAT YOU WILL NEED:
 
Beans 

As you can see, they are high in fibre, which is Australian for "fiber."

Canola oil

Apple Cider Vinegar

Salt, pepper, sugar, and garlic.

Celery, carrots, and green onion.

Yes, garlic, too, but with the other ingredients above. He's just trying to be with the cool kids.

And, possibly most importantly of all, BACON. (Aussie bacon is more like Canadian bacon- I actually prefer it to American bacon since it has more meat and less fat.) 

Lower fat bacon = HAPPY BACON!

WHAT YOU DO:

Salad:

Drain the beans and lightly rinse. 

Mmmmm....looks good, right? WAIT! Don't go yet!! It gets better!

Chop the celery and carrots into a medium dice. Thinly slice the green onion- both the white and green. 

Add them to the beans

Cook and roughly chop the bacon and also add to the beans. (If you are either vegetarian, or even vegan, simply omit the bacon. It'll still be good, but you will be missing out. Because BACON!)

Mmmmm....bacon

Salad dressing:

Add the oil, vinegar, salt, sugar, pepper and diced (or super squished) garlic and mix it all.

Pour the dressing over the salad. Mix it all up. 

I only photographed a portion this small so you wouldn't see how much of a pig I am.

Try not to devour it all in one setting.

"Here, mama. I'll show them how much of a pig you are."

*******************************************

Gege's Beans, Beans Good for Your Heart!

For Salad:
5- 14oz/400g cans of beans (I use a mixture of various kinds- chickpeas, kidney beans,  cannellini beans, butter beans, and even a can of 4 mixed beans.) 

2 large carrots, diced
2 ribs of celery, diced
1 large green onion, thinly sliced

5 middle rashers Australian/Canadian bacon (or regular ol' USA bacon), cooked and roughly chopped or crumbled.

For dressing:
1/4C Apple Cider Vinegar
1/4C canola oil
2 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1 clove garlic, diced (or use a garlic press)
1/4 tsp pepper

Mix all salad ingredients together. Mix vinegar, sugar, salt, pepper, and garlic together. SLowly add oil and mix well. Pour dressing over bean mixture and stir together. 

*Enjoy!

 *Please do enjoy responsibly. There is a lot of fiber in this delicious salad. If your body is not used to a lot of fiber, then I hope you enjoy your....musical interlude....after devouring this meal.

Asian Adventures

So. My family and I are currently* on an amazing, once in a lifetime holiday in Asia. I normally don't like broadcasting when we're away from home because, you know, thieves and stuff. Mostly zombies. Though I think our elderly, deaf, arthritic cat can still hold her own- she's gotten pretty good with her cane fighting.

*(“Currently” applied to when I started this blog post. We are now safely at home and have recuperated from the events recorded here... about 3 months ago.So. Back off thieving zombies.) 


ANYwho...we are currently (unexpectedly) in Bangkok, Thailand, where our hastily booked hotel is conveniently located down the street from the local "protests" that are occurring here. Just how did we find ourselves in this predicament? Lack of birth control. Seriously. It's all the babies' faults. Ugh. Kids.

Let me backtrack just a bit.

Mid to late January, my Mister had a business trip back to the States. He left the warm, sunny summer of Australia (otherwise known as OHDEARGODI'MMELTING) for the arctic chill of Virginia, leaving me alone with the kids, all by myself and alone, for just under 2 weeks. We've had this trip planned for a while, so I knew that he would be able to make up for it via the many massages, facials, and yarn buying excursions I was going to enjoy while on holiday.

Our kids are already pretty seasoned travelers by now and Little Mister especially loves riding in vehicles he's not experienced before, but especially enjoys taxis, buses, trains, and, of course, airplanes. He also is a kid who needs sleep. Like, NEEDS sleep. A lot. He's extremely bright and funny and really loves his mama, but sometimes I need to remind myself that he's only two and I can't expect him to behave like an older child, especially when he's jet lagged, has missed naps, and is sleep deprived because his parents selfishly decided to enjoy an evening market in Chiang Mai instead of being holed up in the hotel by 6pm like every other night.

SweetPea also needs her sleep, but she's still small enough to fall asleep in the Ergo while walking around places, but I could tell that her interrupted naps were starting to take their toll. So, in a way this forced stop in Bangkok is a very good thing for them since we are holed up in our hotel for now and they've been napping uninterrupted for the past 2 hours. I probably should be napping, too, but I didn't realize how strong the coffee is here. I'm talking rapid eye blinking, heart pounding, grow-hair-on-your-chest strong coffee. I just had one cup and I'm already starting to be mistaken for an Italian man. Might be due in part to my large mustache, plumbers gear, and penchant for mushrooms, but I can't be sure. 

You should see what happens when we don't shave

But I'm getting ahead of myself. (Sorry in advance for the digressions- dear Lord that coffee was strong!)

The first part of our trip started out well. Due to the flight schedules, we spent one night in Adelaide before heading to our first stop, Phuket, Thailand with a short layover in Singapore. Phuket (pronounced "poo-ket," which I don't have to tell you makes me giggle) was great- tropical weather (I actually prefer humidity to dry heat), tropical vegetation, beautiful sandy beaches, and, my personal favorite, inexpensive massages. The people in Thailand love children. Or, at least my children because it has been scientifically proven that they are the cutest and bestest children ever in the whole world. SweetPea especially has been fawned over and loved on and passed around by just about every Thai woman alive. She learned how to wave just prior to our trip, but it was sporadic. Now, she's a waving virtuoso. She now has a compulsion to wave and smile any time she sees an Asian woman and is usually rewarded with smiles, hugs, laughs, and cooing. This has been a huge ego boost for this proud mama, but in hindsight may have contributed to our current predicament. 

OH COME ON! Just one bite of those Tootsie Roll arms!

For the first couple of days, we took it really easy, letting the kids take their naps in the hotel room and putting them to bed at their normal times. But, this is a once in a lifetime holiday for us and we didn't travel all the way to Asia just to spend time in the hotel. So, we started pushing them just a bit. It was good to get out of the hotel room, anyway, since there were so many mosquitoes there. Great googly moogly- we were being eaten alive! So we killed as many mosquitoes in our room as we could and then went out and about where we provided the rest of the mosquitoes in Thailand with a smorgasbord of American goodness. My Mister's legs look like he has some sort of skin disease and I am covered with swollen red welts that then turn into bruises because I'm blessed like that.

So when our kids started getting red bumps all over, we figured they were just doing their part to feed the local wildlife and didn't worry too much about it, especially since they weren't scratching like they were infested with fleas like their parents were.

After a few days in Phuket, we headed to our second destination- Chiang Mai, Thailand where the Sunday Night Market is legendary and part of the reason we wanted to visit Chiang Mai in the first place.

The day we arrived in Chiang Mai, Little Mister started acting unusual. He didn't want to eat much and didn't even finish his fruit which, if you know my little man, is a huge red flag that something is up. He's a bottomless pit and especially loves fruit and vegetables. He's a Nutritionist's dream son, to be quite honest.

Another indicator that he wasn't feeling well occurred later that afternoon when his eyes started looking glassy and his head felt like a heat lamp. Other than acting like he had a fever (tired and a little miserable), he wasn't acting like he was really sick, so we didn't worry too much about it and just decided to wait it out and let him sleep.

The next morning (Friday), I noticed that he got attacked pretty badly by mosquitoes throughout the night- his face and feet had quite a few red spots on them. Poor little man. By the end of the day, he was no longer feverish, but still wasn't eating much. But he seemed to be in good spirits since he was able to add a tuk tuk to his ever expanding list of vehicles he has risen in. And if you have not heard a two year old say, "Tuk tuk!" Then you do not know what cute is. It is currently his favorite mode of transportation.

By Sunday, he seemed like he was feeling better, which was great since we wanted to attend the Sunday Night Market. However, SweetPea seemed out of sorts and felt a little warm. Huh. Well, it could be because it's really hot and humid and she's been spending most of her time strapped to my chest in the Ergo. Yeah. That's why she's feeling warm. And not as hungry. And super clingy to me. Right? So we didn't get our kiddos to bed until waaaaay past their bedtime, but figured they could handle it this one night since we've been held hostage every other night by their early bedtimes.

We were almost delirious with the experience of being outdoors past 7pm for the first time in almost 3 years. It was like we were almost human again. It was glorious.

Monday morning we were getting ready to head out to our third destination- Siem Reap, Cambodia- with a 2 hour layover in Bangkok. As we were leaving the hotel, the super friendly women who had been fawning all over SweetPea were dismayed that she wasn't feeling well and wasn't her normal cheery, happy, lovable self.

Then they noticed the red bumps on one of her legs. I wasn't too worried about them....until those women showed worry about them. They even asked what time our flight was just in case we had time to go to the local hospital to get her checked out. Since we didn't have enough time, they told us there was a "hospital" at the Bangkok airport we could go to if she didn't seem well.

Great. I'm a pretty laid back mama. I was raised with a "You're ok! Rub some dirt in it!" type of mom. Granted, she usually fainted when we had to get shots and slammed the door in my face that one time I sliced open my hand and had blood spurting like a fountain (true story), but overall, she definitely didn't get worked up over every bump, scrape, cough or fever. Thus, I've also tended to take a "watch and see" stance the few times my kids have seemed ill.

Well. Except for this past Thanksgiving when we were in Adelaide and SweetPea got her first fever. It wasn't responding to Advil or Tylenol so I took her to the local hospital just to be on the safe side. After spending the majority of Thanksgiving day in the ER (Turkey Subway Sandwiches were our Thanksgiving meal this year), we were told that sometimes kids get fevers and all you can do is wait them out and rub some dirt in it. "Laid back" doesn't even begin to describe Aussie doctors. So, I really wasn't too worried about my kiddos this time since I didn't want to waste my whole vacation in an ER (AGAIN) just to be told, "Yup. That's a fever."

So we get on the plane and head to Bangkok. The kids and I were in the 3 seats on the right and My Mister was in the seat right across the aisle. We gave SweetPea some infant medicine earlier and she was no longer feverish and had fallen asleep on me in the Ergo which was what I was hoping for. And, since it was around lunchtime, which is right in the middle of Little Mister's normal nap time, I was hoping he would fall asleep on the plane, too. Because he was tired. TIRED tired. And he wanted to sleep. NOW. He tried putting down the window shade on the plane but was told to lift it back up until after take-off. He wanted to lay down on the seat but was told he couldn't until after take-off. He started whining. Then he started protesting about everything. Really really loudly. Then, as the plane was finally starting to taxi down the runway, he started slinking in his seat trying to get out of his seatbelt while screaming, "I WANT TO GO TO SLEEP! I WANT TO HOLD YOU, MOMMY! HOLD YOU UP THERE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I was trying my best to calm him down, stage whispering for him to be quiet and that we would be in the air soon so he could fall asleep and for him to please PLEASE be quiet since SweetPea was sleeping. I pleaded. I ordered him. I begged and cajoled and threatened. Nothing worked. We were THAT family. The one everyone hates and talks about and uses as an example of why kids shouldn't be on planes and the reason they will never have kids themselves because kids suck.

We were barely in the air- the seat belt sign was still on- and Little Mister was almost flopping on the floor while screaming his head off. I took off his seat belt and hoisted him on my lap- or at least what little of my lap was available since I still had a sleeping SweetPea strapped to my chest. He was inconsolable and starting to freak people out as his head spun around while pea soup spewed out of his mouth. I was shooting daggers with my eyes across the aisle at My Mister who was trying to be nonchalant, looking everywhere but at us as if to say, "Wow. Just my luck to be stuck across the aisle from *those* people. Ugh. Kids. Amirite?"

As Little Mister was doing his bucking bronco imitation, SweetPea was finally jolted out of sleep, which was exactly what I was hoping would happen. Because the only thing better than having one screaming kid on your lap in the middle of take-off is having TWO screaming kids on your lap. My only consolation was that we were still in the middle of ascending so there was still hope something would go horribly wrong and we would go down in a gigantic fiery crash.

I finally caught My Mister's eye and growled, "I could REALLY use your help right now!" He pointed to the seat belt sign as if to say, "There's nothing I can do!" Which prompted me to nearly take his head off, which is what I would have done if I wasn't wrestling Damien and his sister on my lap. Instead, I hissed "I REALLY DON'T CARE!" at which time he hopped across the aisle and helped me muzzle our sweet, adorable little angels.

Thankfully, we were able to lay Little Mister down and get him to finally fall asleep but our SweetPea did not appreciate being jolted out of her slumber and proceeded to let everyone know just how displeased she was for the entire flight. I tried nursing her, singing to her, jiggling her and playing peek-a-boo, but nothing worked. This was highly unusual for her- she's usually a happy baby and a great flier. Her leg rash also seemed like it was getting worse, so when we finally landed in Bangkok, we decided to get her checked out at the airport clinic, just in case. We had a two hour layover so we figured they'd smile and nod and give us some dirt to rub on her while sniggering behind our backs about the inadequacies of American parenting skills.

But no. Instead, they took one look at her rash and at Little Mister's "mosquito bites" and told us we had to go directly to the hospital. Would we like them to order us a taxi or would we prefer an ambulance?

What we had thought was an allergic reaction of some sort, due to my recent milk consumption (we think that SweetPea is also allergic to dairy), the airport clinic thought could be either chicken pox or Hand, Foot, Mouth Disease.

They may have just said leprosy with a side order of bubonic plague- either way it meant that we were not able to make our connecting flight to Cambodia that day. Or possibly ever. Good thing we like Thai food- we may be eating it for the rest of our lives.

The only problem with this scenario, other than having 2 very sick kiddos while being stranded in a foreign country, was that we had already cleared customs in Chiang Mai; thus, we were technically not in Thailand anymore. But we were. And My Mister was the lucky guy who got to prove it to the Thai passport/customs in the very “bowels of the Bangkok airport.” (Those were My Mister’s words. I’m the one in the family who tends to use “flowery” language. He does not. So when he described it like that, I could only imagine what sights he saw down there. Since it took TWO FLIPPING HOURS for him to return to me, I’m pretty sure it was unpleasant enough to make up for the airplane fiasco.)

So. After we got cleared to stay a while longer in Thailand, we had to pick up our luggage (which thankfully was not on its way to Cambodia) and, four hours after we stopped for our 2-hour layover, finally got to add “ambulance” to the top of the list of Little Mister’s favorite vehicles ever. Seeing his unbridled excitement and joy when they turned on the siren was almost enough for me to forget the growling and gnashing of teeth he displayed just a few hours previously on the plane. Almost. 

*shudder*

Once we got to the ER, we were promptly ushered into a private room- some may say “quarantine,” but I prefer “VIP treatment.” And since we were such VIPs, we didn’t have to wait long for the doctor like those other peasants out in the waiting room. The doctor quickly came in and, after consulting with another doctor, proclaimed that SweetPea had a skin infection and we were to give her antibiotics and should be free to fly out 24 hours later.

What the crap, Bangkok. Stopping us from flying out of your country due to a little skin infection and/or disease? She’s a baby for goodness sake! We could have just rubbed some dirt in it and have been on our merry way! Instead we were now stranded, without a hotel or transportation lined up, in a city that had been in the news most recently for having “demonstrations” that had resulted in a couple of bombings, which had unfortunately even claimed the lives of a few, innocent children.

The hospital very kindly called a local hotel and gave them a heads up that we were on our way and wrote down the name of the hotel for us so we could tell the taxi driver. However, they wrote it down in English which, unfortunately the Thai taxi driver did not read. Nor speak. Great googly moogly! Even New York taxi drivers can usually speak English! Get with it, Bangkok! Although, they do have New York taxi drivers beat when it comes to packing a family of 4 with their 6 pieces of luggage into a sedan. They must be Jenga masters.
 

A little bungee cord, a little duct tape, badabing badaboom.

After nearly an hour of driving around the same 4 blocks near the hospital trying to find this seemingly non-existent hotel, My Mister decided to look up a local Holiday Inn on his phone and gave it to the taxi driver so he could follow the map there. HOWEVER. Unfortunately, this taxi driver also could not read a map. He had no idea what the heck he was looking at and no idea how to get us there. So, we told him to take us back to the airport- something he thankfully did understand.

Once we got back to the airport- a half hour drive from the hospital- we got in queue for the taxis and hoped and prayed we would get one who spoke English. Thankfully, we did. We told him we wanted to go to the Holiday Inn and, after getting directions from the other drivers in the queue, we were finally on our way to settle into a comfy bed and sleep away this crazy day.

It wasn’t until we were almost to the hotel (My Mister was following along on his phone) that the true gravity of our situation started to dawn on us. We chose the Holiday Inn because it was something we could pronounce and we knew it would give us a bit of comfort and familiarity while we figured out our Bangkok detour. We just happened to choose the Holiday Inn that was located in the center of one of the largest protest areas in Bangkok. Right next door to a government building and just down the street from the aforementioned bombing. I hugged the kids tight as the taxi driver slowed to a stop and rolled down our windows. I truly did not know what to do as armed men shone their flashlights in our faces, but they thankfully seemed content to let us pass. Perhaps it was the leprosy on SweetPea or the sweet sleepy, “Ima gonna kill you!” look on Little Mister’s face; either way, we finally FINALLY made it to our hotel room. Where we are safe…..for now. 

Directly in front of our hotel

******************************************************************************

It’s now 3 months later and, I’m happy to report that we not only made it out of Bangkok safe and sound, but we also got to continue our planned travels by going to Singapore after our Bangkok detour. I’m a little bummed we never got to see Cambodia, but am actually glad that we were stuck in Bangkok with the sick kiddos. After a couple days of forcing antibiotics down SweetPea’s throat and seeing her legs get worse instead of better, we took her to the pediatric unit at Bumrungrad International Hospital, which was hands down the best hospital I have ever been to, ever. And, unfortunately, I've been to many all over the world. We were seen by the (best looking, most efficient) pediatrics center, without an appointment or referral for a specialist (we could have chosen to be seen by a dermatologist, too) and were planning on spending a few hours waiting in an urgent care setting. Instead, we were in, out, and done in less time than it took to drive there and it was less than 2 miles away. 

Targeted ads on the Bangkok Ferry- they knew we'd hit them all eventually

Turns out they did have Hand, Foot, Mouth Disease after all. After rubbing some cream on her legs, they started clearing up and we were finally given the all clear to leave Thailand.

Even after all we went through, I’d have to say that I absolutely loved Thailand. I loved the beaches of Phuket. I loved the markets and temples of Chiang Mai. 

SMILE!

I even loved Bangkok. 

 

Words cannot even explain how amazing this was.

Even though we were staying right in the middle of one of the biggest protest areas, it was "peaceful" while we were there. We heard chanting, groups applauding at speakers, concerts of some sort, and sirens throughout the day and night. If it wasn't for the knowledge of what was going on, I would have thought we were in the middle of a music festival or something. 

She's ready to ROCK

I’d definitely go back there when there is a little less social unrest and we had an actual plan of some sorts, but I still enjoyed our time there. After the excitement that was Bangkok, the perfection that was Singapore was almost a let down. Almost.

Indoor mountain, including several waterfalls. Because they can.

Exodus to a Field of Dreams

I am working on a Bible Study on the book of Exodus- a Bible study I started over four years ago. It’s a great, in-depth study and has 20 chapters- one per week. For those who may be mathematically challenged, that means it has taken me more than twice the amount of time to do than it should have. (Maybe even three times more- I don’t have my scientific calculator with me at the moment.)

However, when I started it, it was during a really rough patch in my life (a rough patch that has lingered for far too long- at least 3 times longer than it should have) and I saw this study as a metaphor- I would study about the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt as I hoped for an Exodus from my rough patch so that I could also see the land flowing with (breast) milk and honey (colored poop).

So I worked on it a bit but, truth be told, I was having a really tough time focusing on anything and, though I have usually grown stronger in my faith when faced with trials, I must admit that I was having a difficult time seeing anything positive through the fog.

Since then, I’ve worked on this study off and on through the various ups and downs I’ve faced in the last four years. Each time I started, I was looking for my path through the desert, and each time some Canaanite, Jebusite, Parasite, and/or pregnancy derailed me.

Well, I have once again picked up where I left off and am committed to finishing it this time. I’d like to say that I’ll be finishing one chapter per week like I’m supposed to, but hey, by my calculations, taking the Israelites route means I still have 37 more years before I need to really worry about it.

It really has felt like I’ve been wandering around in a desert for a while- there have been various trials and tribulations, but there have also been a few oases along the way, as well. In the last 8 months I’ve had the most precious baby girl (who actually lets me sleep at night!!), had my amazingly smart boy turn two (he wakes up more during the night than the baby!), wrestled with PPD and PP anxiety....again, and passed the one year anniversary of my dad’s death while passing the mrfmrfmrf year anniversary of my birth. A few months ago, I started to see glimmers of the Promised Land (after a few trips to the doctor, truth be told) and have wanted to blog about oh so many things- recipes, patterns, funny stories- but still hadn’t found my voice. Where had my words gone?

And then, after watching a commercial for Field of Dreams, I had an epiphany: WRITE IT AND THEY WILL COME.

And so, that’s what I did.

I really doubt that Kevin Costner will ever again be thanked alongside Moses for assisting in an Exodus journey, but there you go. I’ve started a new crochet group (after laying low for a loooong time after my last one), found a new women’s Bible study to attend, and have made new friends which means that I *gasp shock horrors* have been social! With actual people! IN MY HOUSE, EVEN! And the best part? I’m actually enjoying it and looking forward to more. (!!)

So, even though I’m not in the Promised Land just yet (who is?), I am very happy to no longer be wandering in the desert. I don’t know if any of you have remained since I was lost for so long, but if so…. I’m back, baby.