Dongurigal

Conversations with Sproglette #6

Sproglette:  Mom, mom, maaaahm, this is a yummy banana.

Dongurigal: Oh, I'm so pleased you ate half a banana. You're such a good girl. It's been so hard to get you to eat solids, but now look at you, an eating machine. Oooh, you're my sweet little chicken...... Uuuuuh, what do you think you're doing?

S:  I'm going to smush it into the chair.

DG:  Yeah, uh, can you NOT do that, we're in a shopping mall. Other people might want to sit in this chair. Aw, hon, NO. NOOO. NOOOOO. Give me that. Oh, God, there's banana everywhere.

S: Now I'm going to smack your boobs.

DG: No, wait, don't smack me with those sticky hands. Do you know how hard it is to wash banana out of clothes? Do you? Just wait till I wash your hands off. Just give me a minute, I gotta open my purse and find the wet wipes.

S: With your pinky?

DG: Well, yeah, I've got banana all over my hands now.

S: You're going to rummage through that monster purse of yours with your pinky?

DG: Yes.

S: And you think I'll wait for you to find the wet wipes? You think I'll just sit here quietly while you rummage through your...

DG: Yes, yes, please, yes, sit quietly. I'll just be a minute.

S: Forget it! I'm going to smack you and smear this bit of banana into the chair some more. That's what I'm going to do.

DG: Ok, fine, I'll lick my fingers so that I can rummage faster.

S: Ha. Mom, you can't lick your fingers. It's Ramadan. It's Xtreme Lent. Plus, it's illegal in Qatar to eat during the fasting hours. Oh, man, it would be so cool if you got arrested for licking banana off your fingers.

DG: Look, I have to lick my fingers anyway because the wipes are at the very very very very bottom of my purse. So, I'm going to lick my fingers once this guy in a dishdasha walks by. Right, I'm looking left. I'm looking right. No one's around. Ok, it's safe to lick my fingers now.

S: HEY EVERYBODY, MOM'S LICKING BANANA OFF HER FINGERS. HEEEEEEEEY HEEEEEEEY. LOOK OVER HERE! SOMEBODY CALL THE COPS.

DG: Stop it. Do you want to get me arrested?

S: You got banana on your lips.

DG: Bugger.

S: Caught red-handed.

DG: Would you cut it out.

S: Mom, duh, why didn't you have the wipes ready before you gave me the banana. Sometimes, you just don't think do you?

DG: I know, l'il miss smartypants. I know, ok.

S: Basic, mom, basic. Guess it's time for you to enroll in Motherhood 101.

She says, hey babe, take a walk on the construction site

Seeing as the temperature has turned down a notch and seeing as it was nearly 7 am Friday morning, the day of rest, so no school rush of SUVs to navigate around, Sproglette and I decided to go for a stroll in our neighbourhood.

On leaving the parking lot...

and turning the corner...

...we thought we saw a snake. False alarm. Just some chewable tubes and wires.

We saw some pigeons...

and cranes...

...and a truck with a flat tire.

So close and yet so far. The City Centre shopping mall, the one just a few minute's walk from our apartment. Too bad it's not open at 7am on a Friday morning because we might actually be able to cross this normally busy road without being flattened by a Landcruiser.

Heading home, we walked down this lovely tree-lined street, made even lovelier by Flickr's colour editing palette.

We saw some driftwood, too.

Finally home. After all that fresh air, we think it's time for a nap.

Eavesdropping

So, like, I was at the private beach club of a certain 5 star hotel with a friend of mine and our sprogs, when I noticed a group of young men and women pretending to be Bay Watch lifeguards. They were having fun, laughing, snapping photos, and dissing each other.

They had the bods for it, too. The women were buff, the men even buffer. It was then that I also noticed that their backpacks were exactly the same, all sporting a desert fatigue pattern.

Aha, I thought, US soldiers on R & R from Iraq, most probably. 99.9 percent most probably.

Later, while I was kicking my legs in the hotel pool while pushing Sproglette in her inflatable beer lounge chair--my main form exercise these days and Sproglette's main form of watching the world go by (all she needs is a Molson Canadian to complete the 'look')--we passed the same group of soldiers.  They were hanging by the pool now chatting about what to do in the evening.

Soldier 1:  What time are we not supposed to go out again?

Soldier 2:  After 1800 hours.* I guess the driving is insane here, especially during Ramadan.

And I'm thinking to myself, yes, yes, there are multitudes of jackasses who drive the ubiquitous Landcruiser like it's their own personal tank here, but hello, YOU'VE JUST COME FROM IRAQ. There is nothing to worry about.

(The guy really did say 1800 hours, not 6 pm, like us civilian folk would.)

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear

Conversations with Sproglette #5

Sproglette:  Mom, mom, maaaaahm, would you cut out that racket. I'm trying to nap here.

Dongurigal: Right, but I want you to wake up. It's been nearly 2 hours and lately you've only been sleeping for half an hour. So I thought you'd be done by now.

S: See that's what I don't get about you mom. You're po'd when I nap for half an hour and now you're po'd when I nap for 2 hours. Make up your mind, would ya.

DG: Listen, we need to discuss your napping habits, sweety, because you know exactly why I'm trying to wake you up. We were supposed to be at H's house an hour ago. I told you we were going when I was putting on your diaper.

S: Yeah, well, I got tired. I can't help it when I'm tired.

DG: But you seem to do this EVERY time I make plans. Every time.

S: (Big Wide Eyes)

DG: And when I don't make any plans for the day, you don't nap. AT. ALL. What gives, kiddo?

S: (Big Wide Eyes and a Yawn)

DG: Anyway, I just phoned H to tell her we'd be over by noon, now. It's not nice to keep her waiting. So, uh, sweety, what are you doing?

S: Going back to sleep.

DG: No, we gotta go soon. Stay awake. Please.

S: Just a few more minutes, mom.

DG: I'll flush the toilet. Over and over again.

S: Oh, that's really environmental, mom. Way to go. Bye now. I'm closing my eyes.

DG: I'll vacuum.

S: Eyes are closed mom. Go away.

DG: I'll crackle plastic bags and bang pots and pans.

S: LA LA LA LA, mom. I can't HEAR you!

DG: Are you lalala-ing me?

S: What does it sound like, mom? Huh? Now let me sleep, already, or you'll really really regret tonight.

DG: Ok, fine. Fine. FINE. You win. Zymurgy!

S: Is that a new swear word?

DG: Might be. (oh, hi H, yeah, listen Sproglette's still sleeping, so it looks like we'll be over maybe around 1:30 or 2 now, is that ok. Sorry, really, I'm sorry. Oh, thanks so much for understanding. See you then.)

S: Can you teach me some more new swear words?

DG: No, now go back to sleep. You wanted a bit more time, didn't you? So here's your bit more time. Use it.

S: Nah, I think I'd like to learn some new swear words. You've got some good ones.

DG: No, no, go back to sleep. Please. I just changed plans. C'mon. Just nap for a bit longer.

S: Nah, swear words please, I know they're coming. You're going to lose in a second. C'mon mom. Let's hear 'em.

DG: BACK. TO. SLEEP. NOW.

S: I'm waiting.

DG: &à!!#(ç$  "-#!?&@° &~"-`#!

S: Awesome!

It's Neanderthal to think otherwise

I'm not American so, really, what do I care if Sarah Palin gets into office. And let's face it, this race is about Sarah and Obama. McCain's on the sidelines now.

I'm fascinated by this woman who can do it all.  Fascinated.  I also think her views are so very dangerous to women because she can, apparently, do it all. She went back to work a day after her daughter was born six years ago and was quoted reassuring reporters that the birth of her son, Trig, would have no impact on her ability to govern Alaska.

“To any critics who say a woman can’t think and work and carry a baby at the same time,” she said, “I’d just like to escort that Neanderthal back to the cave.”

And so she bounced back to office several days after Trig was born as well.

But see, ladies, here's what she does. She brings him to work. Maybe she even gets one of her office assistants to watch him 'just quickly, just for a minute' while she does a press conference. Oh yes, and her husband has taken time off, too.

So, if she can do it, what are all you gals complaining about, anyway?

Here's a suggestion for American women trying to juggle work and motherhood: Take your babies to work. You're a teacher? Bring your baby to work. Let your students watch him, just for a minute, while you mark papers.  You're a factory worker, handling small parts? Bring your crawling baby to work. Let your line manager watch her, just for a minute, to make sure she doesn't put any small pieces that have fallen on the floor into her mouth.  You're a defense lawyer? Bring your baby to work. Let the defendant, an alleged serial killer (innocent until proven guilty) watch your baby just for a minute, while you go back into the judge's office for a consultation. You're a cashier at Walmart? Bring your baby to work. Let the customer hold her, just for a minute, while you count out the change.

How's that for a protest, oh working mothers of the United States of America?  Bring your baby to work. Today. Tomorrow. Till election day. Go on and prove that Sarah Palin knows what the average American mother (and father) has to deal with. 

Tell your bosses that you're doing this because Sarah Palin says that it's easy peasy to balance work and motherhood.

And it's Neanderthal to think otherwise.

I'm plugging my ears: la la la

Ramadan started on September 1st and what that means to non-fasters like me is now there really is nothing to do in Doha all day long, unless you love grocery shopping in stores that have run out of stock. 

Last night, at 7:52pm, Hubs, Sproglette and I went to one of the chi chi Doha malls to pay for our internet service. We had planned to go to the mall that would be a mere 5 minute walk, if you could actually safely walk there, but on the way we saw a long line of cars entering the parking garage. The line went all the way up to and included the main road. Skip that.

At the other mall, at 7:52pm, the outdoor parking lot was full. Full to capacity, with slowly driven cars looking all dejected and frustrated as they sought out a spot. Cars can look dejected and frustrated.

But I know of a secret, underground parking place that few people use. Yet. (I dread the day when people realize it's there).  So our car did not look all dejected and frustrated. It looked smug.

While our car looked smug, we did not. We arrived at the QTel desk to see two long lines of people also waiting to pay for various telecommunication services.

But enough on the trials of getting stuff done at the mall when you're tired, your husband is tired and your sprog is tired. Your sprog is tired because she has decided that waking up at 5 am and not napping most of the day is really really fun. And it's even more fun to be all whiney and miserable and drive mom around the bend because she can't even take you outside (except for the morning swim) until, until, untiiiiiilllll 5:50 pm when iftar, or the breaking of the fast, is announced. The roads are quiet then, the sun has nearly set, and even though it is so humid a single step causes you to sweat more droplets of water than a monsoon downpour, you drive to the Corniche to go for a walk because if you don't, IF YOU DON'T, well....and even then, your sprog is all whiney because she's probably hot, definitely tired, and doesn't want to sit in her stroller, but you're finally walking, you are really WALKING, and so you say to her, la la la, I can't heaaaaaaaaaaar you. 

Yes, you are actually telling your baby that you can't hear her in that la la la tone of voice.

And it feels good.

(FYI, she is awake now, awake since 5:30am, she's crawling around the floor whining because she's so bloody tired. I've read to her, I've played with her, I've chatted with her, I've cuddled her, I've fed her, I've changed her poopy diaper. And still she whines. So now I am ignoring her. Because she's making me crazy. This heat is making me crazy. This sitting around inside is making me crazy. So if you're not going to nap, fine. Don't nap. But mom's going to ignore you if you whine. Lucky for you, my friend is coming over later. Maybe she won't ignore you.)

La la la la laaaaaaaaa.

So much for hanging out in restaurants. And it's not because it's Ramadan

My mom just wrote an email the other day (hi mom) noting that no one had helped me analyze my dream on my 'poo blog' post. That was before Jean piped in reminding me that I have promised not to write about defecation. Yes, I promised.

(And Jean, when you said that your friend from the Rock told you about 'that place' were you referring to the College of the North Atlantic? The First and Business Class airport terminal? Or the town with the public ceramic toilet right in the middle of the sidewalk?)

In any case, my mom did analyze my dream for me in the email. Thanks mom. Here's what she wrote:

Oh yes..about your poo blog..I am not surprised no one has responded and 
tried to analyse your dream..Could it be that it doesn't much matter 
about appearances but when we make a lot of racket then we are 
definitely a distraction to those around us?..Has Sproglette been acting up 
in public places?

Well, yes mom, actually she has. She has been a right nightmare in public places. So much so that one day, a Qatari couple at the restaurant I was at with a friend and her much quieter baby moved tables. A Qatari couple! They don't mind bratty kids in this country. But she was so outrageous that particular day, so squirmy and outraged and flaily, that the couple stared for a few minutes then got up and told the waitress they were moving way way WAAAAAAY OVER THERE.

And I have 3 airplane trips coming up. Two of them alone. And one of them for at least 11 hours. Alone. With the sprog.

I can't wait.