Could it be? My son is THREE! Part Two

Shawn and Kai playing with his new fishing rod.

Blowing out his birthday candles.

Enjoying cake!

The aftermath.

Could it be? My son is THREE!

November 15th, 2004 at 1:49 AM, my little boy came into the world, making me a first-time mother. I heard somewhere that a woman stays forever the age she was when she had her first child. If that's the case, I'll be forever 23.

Kai, on the other hand, is getting so big! I can't believe that that little baby boy from three years ago is now talking in complete sentences! He's such an amazing blessing--funny, head-strong, active, smart and adorable. I may be a little bit biased, but I'm so thankful for this little boy and what his presence has done in my life.

For his third birthday, we ate cake and opened a few presents from the grandparents.

Kai opens his presents while Quinn watches on.

Kai opening presents while Quinn watches on.

Kai opening a fishing rod from Uncle Joe.

Shawn and Kai figure out the fishing pole together.

Happy 232nd, USMC!

This year we went to the annual Marine Corps Birthday Ball. It was better than last year, I must say. We have a new American ambassador who gave a very nice speech. Last year, several of Shawn's co-workers who went to the Ball as well. Those two couples have since moved back to the States, so we were on our own this year.

We ended up sharing a table with some very high-ranking Marines and Navy personnel. It made for an interesting dinner environment. There is something very fascinating about watching career military men talking with each other in a setting like this....especially as the night wears on when there is an open bar.

Speaking of an open bar--here is a message to send out to all people of all genders, races, ages and creeds (as well as each branch of the military): if you lose every shred of your dignity when you drink--do NOT drink (or at least only to the point that you still have a little bit of dignity left)! People got really crazy this year, crazier than I remember them being last year. And it was surprisingly mostly older people who were getting so freaky on the dance floor, not so much the young Marines. I think maybe they can still handle their liquor or something.

We ended up dancing for many hours and it was a blast. Afterwards we went to our hotel and had a kid-free night of sleep. We even slept in--sort of, if you consider 10 AM sleeping in.

Here's Shawn looking dapper at the Ball.

Here's me looking....gorgeous, as usual. Humble, too.

Here's a view from our hotel balcony.

A Few of our Earthside Babies

Quinn in her stroller.

Quinn, the bathing beauty.

Kai in his soccer jersey.

We're working on our very own soccer team!

Yes, It's True

Very faint lines from the first batch of tests, but you can see them. It's true....I'm pregnant AGAIN with a third little Cherri!

Here's the test I took today, so it's a little darker.

At the Beach 4

Kai gives Quinn a kiss.

Sunset at the beach. You can see the Grand Mosque's minarets in the background.

This beach is near our house and a very popular spot for families looking for a Friday afternoon activity.

At the Beach 3

Kai checks out a crab Shawn found.

Kai wants to go for a ride.

Shawn and Kai on the beach at sunset.

Me with the kids at the beach.

At the Beach 2

It looks like they are walking on water.

Quinn waving hello.

Me trying not to fall while carrying Quinn.

Kai checking out another beached boat.

At the Beach

A boat that is stuck on the shore.

I thought this one was cute because they are in a very similar position. You can see our hoopty, White Car June to the left in the corner of the picture.

I'm not sure what these are, but there are these little tiny balls all over the beach around the holes you see in the picture. It looks like some creature has made a bunch of little balls and rolled them out of their holes.

Kai running on the beach.

Our Ohio State Babies

Our babies wearing their Ohio State outfits. Go Buckeyes!

Quinn pulling a "Jordan" with her tongue stuck out--she does this all the time!

Special thanks to Grandpa Cherri for the Ohio State wear!

Wee Burritos After a Bath

Kai and Quinn as little burritos after a bath.

Kai does not find it as amusing as mommy and daddy do.

It's Over!

As of yesterday, our EMT-Basic course is officially over. It was ten weeks of intensive course work--we had 12 hours of lecture and lab a week, as well as 25 hours in the clinic with patients over the 10-week period. Yesterday was the National Registry practical exam. It is the hands-on skills test for the National Registry, the place from which Shawn and I will get our licenses.

Because of the requirements of the National Registry, we took the practical exam yesterday, but will have to wait until we are back to the States to take the written exam. So until we complete that, we are not licensed/certified EMT-Bs. However, we completed the practical portion of the certification exam and will not have to do that again. Woohoo!

The certification exam made me extremely nervous. I'm not exactly sure why, but I was really stressed about it. I didn't think I would fail or anything, I was just worried about potentially having to re-test some of the stations.

It is divided into six sections, all testing different skills within the EMT-Bs scope of practice. The stations are:
1. Patient Assessment/Management--Trauma.
2. Patient Assessment/Management--Medical.
3. Cardiac Arrest Management/Automated External Defibrillator.
4. Bag Valve Mask--Apneic Patient.
5. Spinal Immobilization--Seated/Supine.
6. Random Skill Verification.

The test took us all morning and involved the medical director for the EMT program coming and giving us scenarios, answering any questions, telling us what was expected and then he watched us while we performed all the skills within the required time limits. With the trauma and medical patient assessment parts, we were given fake scenarios with a person there playing a fake patient and had to manage them as we would in the field. Each item we were supposed to complete in each scenario was on a long list and each one we got right, we got the point. For each station, there were things that were "critical fails." If we did any of the "critical fails," even if we got every other point, we still immediately failed that station.

It was especially nerve-wracking because after you completed a given station, they just said, "thank you" and sent you on your way. They did not tell you immediately if you passed or failed, so you had to take the entire exam, then they would tell you if you passed. If you failed four of the stations, you failed the test and had to wait until the next class was over (in about six months!) before you could take it again. If you failed 3, you could re-take them once. If you didn't pass them the second time, you failed the test.

I was very, very nervous, but I did well. Even though it was not very graceful at times (I felt quite bumbling), I did manage to pass all six stations on the first try. Shawn did, too! We were so excited!

So now I am EMT-B National Registry eligible and have completed the training! I am so glad we decided to take the course. The added bonus was taking it together. It is a good feeling to know that if some emergency happened, we would have the skills necessary to be able to take care of our family members, even if their lives were in danger. When we get back to the States, I am considering working part-time as an EMT. I think it would be a lot of fun and very interesting.

It's over!

Cousin Marriage

In the US, the thought of marrying your first cousin is scandalous, and often illegal.

In the rest of the world, it's a very viable (maybe even desirable) marriage situation. The wedding I went to recently was between first cousins. The very nice woman named Mona that I met there was also married to her first cousin. In fact, I read that marriages between first cousins are between 25-33% of all marriages amongst Bahrainis.

Our nanny Theresa explained the situation with cousin marriage in Indian/Sri Lankan culture. She said you can marry your children to your opposite gendered sibling's children. So Theresa's children could marry her brother's children, but her children could not marry her sister's children.

I recently read that the risk of genetic issues causing problems for first cousin marriages is actually only 1-2% greater than non-related couples, a fact that I found very interesting, as that is presumably the justification for the illegality of cousin marriages in the US.

Anyway, I just thought that was very interesting....

Potty Humor

My recent wedding attendance is driving me to post about something I would not normally post about--toilets!

Here in the Middle East, toileting is a little different than in the US. From what I understand, though I have never been able to discuss it with anyone who can confirm it, people have traditionally used their left hand for "toileting duties" and their right hand for eating. So I have wondered many a time what exactly does that mean?

In every bathroom I have been to here, there is a little sprayer attached to the wall. My guess is that you are supposed to use the sprayer after you go to the bathroom to rinse off your business and use your left hand to assist. A lot of bathrooms do not have any toilet paper, only the sprayer. I am guessing that means they do not even pat dry or anything. I'm not sure how they can stand it, but I don't know how else they do it.

Bidets are also a very common sight here; we have one in our apartment. Shawn and I have both tried it out of curiosity. However hilarious, ridiculous and blog-worthy our bidet attempts might be, some things should probably just remain private.

There are also toilets that are more like porcelain sinks set into the floor that have little ridges on either side so you can get traction with your feet. You are supposed to squat down and go in them. I have not been brave enough to try one yet. I imagine it would be about as hilarious as my bidet tries.

So what does all this have to do with the wedding I went to? When I arrived at the center where the wedding was taking place on the second night, I realized I had to pee really bad! After putting it off as long as possible, I went to the bathroom. I was quite dismayed to discover one of these squatting toilets and only a sprayer--no toilet paper. I wasn't about to make my first attempt at one of these at a wedding where I was wearing a floor-length abaya. I had all these visions of falling part-way into the toilet thingy and getting soaked, as well as not being able to dry off afterwards. No, thanks!

So I held it for three hours. By the time I got back to Hassan's house, I REALLY had to go. I asked to use his restroom, thinking that he would have a full-sized toilet. When I went into the bathroom, I discovered that he did NOT have a full-sized toilet, but the same squat toilet and only water, too! I held it then, too.

Needless to say, when I got home I was quite relieved.

An Arabic Wedding, Part 2

Around 8:30 PM the next night, we went to Hassan's house. When we arrived, the British couple Shawn knows was there, along with two other female friends. We sat on cushions on the floor in Hassan's living room as he served us tea and snacks off of a tray. We joked around and talked for a while. Hassan's daughter was still at the salon getting ready for her wedding party. I asked one of the women who had been to several weddings what it was like.

She told me a similar story to the ones I had already heard. The bride arrives and they take lots of pictures, then the women let loose, dancing around in their miniskirts and tight clothes. She said we would be seriously under-dressed, as some women would have ball gowns on .

At nearly 10 PM, we got the call that the bridal party was heading to the wedding venue. Hassan took us four Western women to the center. We arrived just as the bride and groom were getting there. We went inside the center right behind them. Hassan's daughter looked like a princess. She had a very ornate and beautiful wedding gown. It looked like something you would see at a very formal American wedding.

Once inside, there was a crowd of women in their abayas who rushed the new couple. We followed them inside to a small platform where they started to take lots of pictures of the couple. I noticed that we four Westerners towered above the rest of the women inside. I did have two-inch heels on and the other women had their shoes off, but still, we were much taller than any of the women. Strange for me, considering I am only 5' 4" myself.

We watched for a while and I got some of the most peculiar stares. The three British women I was with were dressed as we normally would in America for a semi-formal event. But I was in my abaya again. People were coming up and staring at this strange American girl in an abaya. Some of the younger girls (teens and pre-teens) kept approaching me and asking me to show them my henna tattoos. They would slide my sleeves up then rapidly pull them back down again to cover my arms. One old woman was standing near by smiled and shook her head, showing me to cover my arms. Hassan was present at this time, as was the groom and one of the bride's brothers. The rest of the guests were all women.

We ascended the platform and said hello to the bride. They took a few pictures with us Westerners and then we joined the rest of the crowd. At this point, I was swarmed by young girls bursting with curiosity. One girl even tried to peel my abaya open to see what I was wearing underneath! About 10 or 15 girls crowded around me and started trying to ask me questions. Since I didn't speak Arabic and they didn't speak much English, there was not very much exchange. They kept saying things like,"You are so beautiful! What is your name? I love you." It was truly bizarre and a little embarrassing since I was at someone else's wedding and I was drawing this much of a crowd.

The British ladies led me into the next room where they had little plastic trays with a variety of little food items. In this outer room, I noticed the women I had seen the night before. They were sitting around on cushions and smoking and talking, just as they had the night before. When they saw me, they called me over and wanted to see my tattoos. They seemed impressed with how they had turned out, as they were very dark on my hands. Apparently, that is more desirable than a lighter color.

As I was getting my food, the crowd of girls followed me and started asking for my e-mail address and phone number. I probably got about 10 requests. I didn't give out my number, but I did give a few girls my e-mail address. One of the girls has actually tried to chat with me. A very interesting experience for both of us, I assume, since we do not speak each other's language.

I went back into the main room where there were no chairs. Women were sitting on the floor on cushions. I saw Mona, the nice woman I had met the night before and sat with her the rest of the time. About then, the British ladies decided they would leave. They said they had "been too far too many of these" Arabic weddings. I told them I had a sociology degree and was very interested in the cultural experience. They looked at me like I was crazy, but they left.

The rest of the time, I just watched the goings on. Mostly, women were just sitting around eating and talking. The bride and groom had hours of pictures taken with every imaginable family combination. I met one of Hassan's wives (not the mother of the bride---his other wife). Interestingly, I saw his wives talking to one another, getting along and looking at pictures. Hassan's wife was very nice, but she did not speak English, so I was in the same predicament of using lots of motions and a few words we might have in common.

Mona explained more relationships to me---who was related to whom and how. The girls that were still crowded around me were asking questions about me; where was I from? How did I like Bahrain? What were my children's names? Mona translated. Eventually, they lost interest in me and went to do other things. I was relieved.

As midnight approached, things seemed to be winding down. There was no rowdy dancing, only loud Arabic music. Almost all of the women stayed covered, except occasionally when some related male would come and the women who were related to him could unveil. Underneath, they had formal, beautiful dresses on. Only a few were revealing.

I watched how the women interacted with each other. One woman sat next to me for a while and was very boisterous and friendly. She was unveiled for a lot of the event, but once, when an unrelated male came into the room, she pulled her veil completely over her face until he was out of sight. She was quiet while he walked by, but resumed her rowdy conversation with female relatives once he was gone.

I started to get a little tired and everyone was starting to leave, so I called and Hassan came and picked me up. On the way back to his house, I thanked him again for inviting us and we talked some about his family. I said his family was very kind to me, "al-hamdu l-illah"--"all praise to Allah." That's another very common phrase here. Our pediatrician says, "al-hamdu l-illah" every other sentence. "Mash'-allah" is a phrase which means pretty much the same thing and is often used (I think it means "thanks to God").

I told him that his daughter looked beautiful and he said that he said she told him she was glad she was marrying her cousin, because now she could show the pictures to her entire family--they're related to everyone now, so she can be unveiled in front of them! Yes, they're first cousins. I'll talk more about cousin marriage in a later post.

We went back to the house and I found Shawn and Kai playing outside. Quinn had fallen asleep earlier. Shawn said they had shared a meal and then the British people left. Just he and Hassan were left with the children afterwards.

We were grateful for the experience to attend this wedding.

An Arabic Wedding, Part 1

My hands after getting henna tattoos.

My hands after getting henna tattoos. It took the woman who did this about two hours. She free-handed the whole thing and then I had to let it dry for about four hours. After that, the henna makes little flakes on your skin which you peel or scrape off. The designs dye your skin and stay that way, gradually fading, over the course of about two weeks. After that, your skin is back to normal.

Last week, we were invited by our mechanic Hassan to his daughter's wedding. We didn't know it was the wedding; Shawn was told it was a "pre-wedding party." Ever the curious sociologist, I was very eager to go. Theresa watched the children, I dressed in my abaya and we went. When we got there, Shawn and I were separated and I went with all the women, while Shawn went with all the men.

I went into the area where the women were celebrating. It was like a community center with one good-sized, open room for events. I didn't even go inside the whole time because I was outside. In the courtyard outside, lots of women were sitting around talking, getting henna done, eating and smoking sheesha (flavored tobacco) from those large hookah water pipes. Almost nobody spoke English to any degree. There was one other woman there who did speak English. She was an Italian woman whose husband Hassan had business dealings with, but she was only there for a little while. The rest of the evening, I was pretty much on my own. Hassan had paid for me to have henna done. I had my hands done about a year ago when Joe and Justine came to visit and was not really interested in repeating the process. The henna just gets old after a while and as it starts to fade, it just looks like you have dirty hands. But since Hassan, our gracious host, had already paid, I plunked down on some cushions on the ground for the woman to tattoo me.

Inside, I could hear the women singing over a PA system, dancing and joking around. A beautiful, tall women named Mona came and sat with me for a while. She spoke some English, and she brought me some food. She brought me this incredible amount of food in a bowl. There was no way I could eat all of it. It was potatoes, rice and lamb from this giant pot that everyone was eating from. After someone nearby me was done with their, what they could not eat was dumped back into the community pot.

One of Hassan's sisters also came and sat by me for a while as I was getting my hands done. She explained some of what was happening. The bride was inside with everybody else. The older generation of women were getting less ornate henna tattoos. She explained that traditionally, women have tattooed their fingertips, palms and soles of their feet. The more ornate, decorative tattoos are a more recent trend and I did notice that the younger women were getting those types.

She asked me why I wore an abaya. I told her it was just more comfortable and asked her if that was strange. She said, "No, of course not! It's nice." It seems to me that most of the women I have actually had the occasion to talk about my abaya-wearing ways with always are encouraging of the practice. I have often wondered if they think it's strange to see this Westerner in an abaya. I do see some periodically, but most Westerners here dress like they would in their home environments.

It was dizzying! So much Arabic and I know they were saying things about me that I could not understand. Everybody was very friendly, though. Some of the women kept asking me questions in Arabic, but I could not understand what they were saying. I felt very stupid as I just shook my head and said, "I don't speak Arabic. I'm sorry!" Now I know how foreigners must feel when we try to communicate with them. It is a very helpless feeling!

I just mostly sat and watched the women interact with one another, enjoying each other's company, smoking, talking and laughing. Hassan's sister explained that most of these women were family members, but there were few friends as well. Almost all of them were dressed in black abayas, with their heads covered. Hassan's sister explained that Hassan has 8 sisters! Three of them come from Hassan's dad's wife #1 and the other five come from Hassan's dad's wife #2. His dad had two wives. Hassan also has two wives.

After my tattoos were done, I waved goodbye to everybody (it was almost 11:30 PM!) and met up with Shawn. He told me what happened at the men's gathering. He said they all got together and sat down on the floor in a similar facility as the one I went to . They all ate from large communal plates with their hands. After that, they walked with the groom all through the town, singing and chanting. They walked him to a nearby mosque and the groom went in to pray alone. After that, they just went back and hung out for a while.

As we were leaving, I thanked Hassan for inviting us and he invited us to come back the next day. Apparently, the wedding goes like this. The first night, the groom's party is held. The women just seemed to get together by default. The second night, the bride's party happens. After that, they are married. I don't think they actually have a ceremony where the bride and groom are together in front of everybody.

A British man that has been in Bahrain 10 years and has been to several weddings with his wife gave us some inside info. He said that his wife told him that the weddings that she has been to have been pretty wild on the second night. The women often put on lots of makeup and skimpy clothes underneath their abayas and veils. Then, after taking lots of pictures with the groom, the women let loose, taking of their abayas (no men present), stripping down to bare essentials (sometimes even just slinky lingerie and heels) and dancing the night away. She said that they dance around the bride, telling sexual jokes and "flirting" with the bride. Perhaps it is to get the bride in the "mood" for her wedding night?

The next day, we were talking with Shawn's boss and he told us that his wife had a similar experience when she went to an Arab wedding. The women there were in very skimpy mini-skirts. Some of the women were in lingerie. They danced and threw one dinar notes into the air for the bride to collect later in a big pillowcase.

Knowing all of this, I had to go the second night.....

Little House of Horrors

Our lovely little apartment became a Haz-Mat scene this week. The building people have been doing work on the apartment directly above us for over a week now. During the days, they have been putting down new tile --hammer, hammer, hammer all day. It's been pretty maddening. I guess they're all done now and Tuesday evening they decided to spray the apartment with pesticides. Then the workers closed up the apartment and left for the day.

Shortly after that, our house filled with toxic fumes from the pesticides they used as they made their way down through the ventilation system and were blown directly into our house by the A/C. Great!

A couple of months ago, a family of four here in Bahrain was exposed to pesticides through their apartment's pest control service. The parents of the family ended up in the hospital, nearly dying. Sadly, their two sons (somewhere between 8 and 12 years of age) died from the exposure. With this tragedy in mind, Shawn and I decided that we would have to go to a hotel for the eveing and let our apartment air out.

When we got there, poor Quinn grabbed an unsturdy chair and toppled it over on her head in the blink of an eye. You can see in the picture above Quinn's Injury of the Week. She cut her eyelid and ripped out about 20 eyelashes.

After we had already settled the kids into bed and got ready to go to sleep, we discovered that our hotel beds were really just box springs on a nice bed frame. It was truly bizarre, as the rest of the hotel suite was very nice! Shawn and I were joking about the bed and how hard it was. Shawn said there was NO WAY he could sleep on that. Fast forward 5 minutes and Shawn is snoring loudly while I toss and turn, trying to find a position that does not feel like I'm having my circulation cut off. It was a restless night....for just me.

The next day, Halloween, our apartment still had a very faint residual pesticide smell, so Shawn complained to our building management. They opened up the apartment upstairs and ventilated it. I guess they didn't even think that it might cause problems for us! A few hours later, the house was clear and we were able to move back in. That was our Happy Halloween Little House of Horrors story, complete with a dangerous house, blood-curdling screams (from Quinn), toxic chemicals, an overpriced hotel, and a sleepless night.

Too Much to Do

The last couple of weeks have been a very busy time for the Cherri house. Shawn and I have both been taking an EMT-Basic course for the last 10 weeks. It is drawing to its conclusion this week with our ultra-intensive finals on Saturday and Sunday. We have really enjoyed the class and I feel like I've learned a lot, but it has been very tiring. We've had classes 12 hours every week, on top of our other usual responsibilites. Shawn hasn't really had a day off in weeks!

A few days ago, I was contacted by the college on base to see if I could do some temporary work there. The woman who is the representative now has to take leave to go to the Phillipines--she and her husband are adopting a baby! She will have to be absent from work through December, but she has to leave almost immediately. This means that they needed somebody right away. I was able to negotiate a pretty flexible schedule with them, so after much consideration, I decided to take the job. Fortunately, I can work just 4 hours every afternoon (5 days a week) while the kids are napping and help them out, as well as make money and have an intellectual/social outlet. Then, once she comes back in January, I'll be back at home full time. I think I start Monday--the day after my EMT class is officially done! Whew!