I inadvertently got roped into babysitting this weekend. And by roped in, I mean, these kids kind of appear and the adults who are supposed to be taking care of them aren't around. 10:30 p.m. and I walked past the living room to see two kids still up, in their day clothes, eating jelly-beans and watching Sponge Bob. I'm not an experienced parent, but even I know that's probably not ideal. I get them changed into p.j.'s and then have to figure out if a five year old needs helping brushing his teeth.
The funniest part of the weekend is trying to have a conversation with the two kids. I don't speak British English and they don't speak American English. Adults can figure out what the other person means, but a 5-year old doesn't have the skill to work out context. These were my favorite conversations:
Me to the child who is being too rough with one of the cats: "be nice to the red cat."
Child: "What's a red cat?"
Me pointing to the red fur cat
Child: "The ginger cat?"
Me: "Yes, the red cat."
Child: "What do you call red things?"
Me: "red"
Child watching Sponge Bob: "What does zero dollars mean?"
Me: "you have no money."
Child: "What is a dollar."
6 year old child who is smarter than me: "it's like zero pounds."
Me to myself: "Oh, that's what he didn't understand..."
Me to child: "C'mon, let's put on your pants."
Child, looking down at his Cars underoos. "I have pants on."
Me holding up his jeans. "Put these on. We call these pants in America."
Me: "What time is your Mom coming back?"
5 year old looking quizzically at me and then at 6 year old
6 year old: "You mum."
Really, does Mom and Mum sound that different to a 5 year old?
Child wanting to play: "I'm the king of the castle, you're a dirty rascal"
Me trying to explain that we don't have kings or castles in America
Then there were the conversations that maybe parents get tired of, but makes me really want kids, and those were about not putting rocks in the back pack with the clothes, eating pears for lunch even if you don't like pears because pears are all we have, tickling and pillow fights are fun and we can play as long as we have a little control, yes it's annoying that the 5 year old wants to follow you around, but its also very sweet and if he took your favorite rock either find a new favorite rock or ask him if you can have it back, and general rambunctiousness.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Hypoglycemia
I love order and routine. Sometimes I don't think about it. Order, like air, exist in my life. Sometimes I do feel a little controlled by my obsessive need to control everything around me. I know that it drives other people crazy. Sometimes things occur that make me remember there are reasons that I am methodical in certain aspects of my life. Eating and Exercising are two of those things.
Anyone who has every tried to make plans with me knows that I won't give up exercise for social occasions and that eating food (when, how much, what kind) is always on my mind. These seem like small things but they have a huge impact on my relationship with other people. Sometimes I think my friends think it is my preference to be this way. And since I've been this way for such a long time, I think it's my preference too.
The past few weeks have reminded me that it's not a preference but a necessity. I have always had hypoglycemia. I'm very active and rarely hungry. Without sticking to a formal eating pattern that includes when, and what I'm eating, this trio gets me into trouble. It's usually when I'm out walking and I realize I don't have enough gas in the tank. There is no light going off to say fuel up, but strikes suddenly. This is happening with increasing frequency the past few weeks. Yesterday was the scariest episode I've had in a while.
I left the research office in time to walk to the mart to pick up dinner before watching conference. The moment I left my office I knew that my glucose level was too low. You know how, when a camera takes a picture it takes a second for the shutter to reset before you can take a new picture? My vision was like that. A mere blink would take seconds before my vision would restore. I couldn't judge distance and I was afraid I was going to get hit crossing the road. Walking is difficult as I can't really feel my body and I have to remind myself that I have feet and they do work and to trust they will get me where I need to go. Kind of like when you give the reigns over to the horse and trust he'll get you home safely. Walking into the mart I tried to grab food as quickly as possible. A banana, orange, bread, sliced chicken breast, humus, a small stick of cheese. Standing in the check out line sweat was pouring off of me. I usually do get sweaty in these situations, but this was bad. It was trickling down my back and front, dripping off my nose, my hair became visibly damp. I don't sweat this badly when I work out!
I bought my food, sat down in the closest chair and struggled to peel the banana. I felt better. A nibble of cheese and I felt like I could walk to conference. Outside the breezy 60 degree weather chilled my sweaty body to the bone. I walked to church, ate a portion of my new rations and tried to stay awake through conference. I was wiped out the rest of the evening.
And I thought laying on the kitchen floor with my coat still on and my book bag in hand the other night was bad.
All because I now get up two hours later than I have the past fifteen-years and I work out at a different time of day and I don't have the means to pack and prepare lots of food at the research office.
So next time you want me to rearrange my day to do something fun, please don't think it's because I don't like you, or because I'm anti-social. My routine is almost a case of life and unconsciousness.
Anyone who has every tried to make plans with me knows that I won't give up exercise for social occasions and that eating food (when, how much, what kind) is always on my mind. These seem like small things but they have a huge impact on my relationship with other people. Sometimes I think my friends think it is my preference to be this way. And since I've been this way for such a long time, I think it's my preference too.
The past few weeks have reminded me that it's not a preference but a necessity. I have always had hypoglycemia. I'm very active and rarely hungry. Without sticking to a formal eating pattern that includes when, and what I'm eating, this trio gets me into trouble. It's usually when I'm out walking and I realize I don't have enough gas in the tank. There is no light going off to say fuel up, but strikes suddenly. This is happening with increasing frequency the past few weeks. Yesterday was the scariest episode I've had in a while.
I left the research office in time to walk to the mart to pick up dinner before watching conference. The moment I left my office I knew that my glucose level was too low. You know how, when a camera takes a picture it takes a second for the shutter to reset before you can take a new picture? My vision was like that. A mere blink would take seconds before my vision would restore. I couldn't judge distance and I was afraid I was going to get hit crossing the road. Walking is difficult as I can't really feel my body and I have to remind myself that I have feet and they do work and to trust they will get me where I need to go. Kind of like when you give the reigns over to the horse and trust he'll get you home safely. Walking into the mart I tried to grab food as quickly as possible. A banana, orange, bread, sliced chicken breast, humus, a small stick of cheese. Standing in the check out line sweat was pouring off of me. I usually do get sweaty in these situations, but this was bad. It was trickling down my back and front, dripping off my nose, my hair became visibly damp. I don't sweat this badly when I work out!
I bought my food, sat down in the closest chair and struggled to peel the banana. I felt better. A nibble of cheese and I felt like I could walk to conference. Outside the breezy 60 degree weather chilled my sweaty body to the bone. I walked to church, ate a portion of my new rations and tried to stay awake through conference. I was wiped out the rest of the evening.
And I thought laying on the kitchen floor with my coat still on and my book bag in hand the other night was bad.
All because I now get up two hours later than I have the past fifteen-years and I work out at a different time of day and I don't have the means to pack and prepare lots of food at the research office.
So next time you want me to rearrange my day to do something fun, please don't think it's because I don't like you, or because I'm anti-social. My routine is almost a case of life and unconsciousness.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Ducks make me happy.
My first paper is due at the very end of April. During a meeting with my supervisors last week I asked if they wanted to see a draft of the paper prior to the due date. I shouldn't have asked. They decided that would be a good idea, and due to the Easter break, set the due date for the 4th which is in two days. I have never worked so hard on a small paper and it still be in complete disarray. I'm already 1,000 words over the limit and I haven't even got to three points of the paper. I realize it's a draft, but this is the first work my supervisors are seeing and I want it to be tight and buttoned up. That's why I'm now avoiding working on it by giving my weekly blog update.
Below are pics of my research office. The pic on the left is the seat I prefer to sit in. There is not designated space, but is first come-first serve. However, most often I get my preference, especially on Friday as the day the Muslim men go to the Mosque. And as 95% of the people I share the office with are Muslim men, the office is usually empty on Friday. And sadly, anytime new conflicts arise in Libya.
You can see that I apparently need three desk spaces for my homework. You may be able to see the prayer rugs in the back of the second picture. The only thing I find strange about prayer time is that those who aren't praying are walking around, talking, and being noisy while the others are praying. I'm so used to the reverent super-quiet way of praying.
I mapped my route the other day and realized that most days I am walking 6 miles between campus, the shop or errands and home. On top of running 5 or 6 miles or going to the gym. No wonder I want to eat a loaf of bread when I get home in the evening!
However, the time it takes me to walk to and from would certainly be shorter if I didn't stop to take a picture of every flower, bee and bird on my way!
The two below are scenes from Christ Church Road. I have no idea what the little flower like leafs are on the left but I thought they were very adorable. The pic on the right is a garden of flowers with Christ Church in the background. There is no good angle to get a good photo of the entirety of the magnificent church. Beautiful church. Hate the green doors.
This was from this morning, walking around The Park campus before heading into the office. Look at that cute little duck! There were about 8 or 9 ducks skimming around on the pond while the adults looked on and quacked encouragement and instruction.
Why is it that I love bats but hate squirrels? Love ducks but hate seagulls?
I love that it looks like the mallard is talking to me on the left. He's saying "Hey Lady! Leave me alone and go do your homework." The pic on the right is two seagulls perched on the little blue boat house. My only wish would be for a better camera, one that I could control focus and shutter speed, instead of my little crap point and shoot.
Below are pics of my research office. The pic on the left is the seat I prefer to sit in. There is not designated space, but is first come-first serve. However, most often I get my preference, especially on Friday as the day the Muslim men go to the Mosque. And as 95% of the people I share the office with are Muslim men, the office is usually empty on Friday. And sadly, anytime new conflicts arise in Libya.
You can see that I apparently need three desk spaces for my homework. You may be able to see the prayer rugs in the back of the second picture. The only thing I find strange about prayer time is that those who aren't praying are walking around, talking, and being noisy while the others are praying. I'm so used to the reverent super-quiet way of praying.
I mapped my route the other day and realized that most days I am walking 6 miles between campus, the shop or errands and home. On top of running 5 or 6 miles or going to the gym. No wonder I want to eat a loaf of bread when I get home in the evening!
However, the time it takes me to walk to and from would certainly be shorter if I didn't stop to take a picture of every flower, bee and bird on my way!
The two below are scenes from Christ Church Road. I have no idea what the little flower like leafs are on the left but I thought they were very adorable. The pic on the right is a garden of flowers with Christ Church in the background. There is no good angle to get a good photo of the entirety of the magnificent church. Beautiful church. Hate the green doors.
This was from this morning, walking around The Park campus before heading into the office. Look at that cute little duck! There were about 8 or 9 ducks skimming around on the pond while the adults looked on and quacked encouragement and instruction.
Why is it that I love bats but hate squirrels? Love ducks but hate seagulls?I love that it looks like the mallard is talking to me on the left. He's saying "Hey Lady! Leave me alone and go do your homework." The pic on the right is two seagulls perched on the little blue boat house. My only wish would be for a better camera, one that I could control focus and shutter speed, instead of my little crap point and shoot.
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