Getting through church has been a challenge lately.
With four kids under the age of eight who all have a mind of their own, I'm lucky if I get to hear even five cumulative minutes of the Sacrament Meeting talks.
Each week we bring coloring books and other appropriate distractions to keep the kids occupied, in hopes that we can make it through the first hour without some sort of meltdown that causes everyone to question our parenting skills. This is not always successful.
In addition, when one kid "has" to go potty, suddenly all the kids "have" to go potty. Getting them to come back in is tough; trying to get them all to remain quietly seated for an hour is an exercise in futility. Living in a ward with your boss' boss and his boss really makes you wish for their best behavior.
Even though neither we nor they seem to get much out of Sacrament Meeting, I know that we need to be consistent and set a good example. My mom never faltered in taking us to church, even though all five of us caused plenty of ruckus on our own. Her example was critical when I encountered a crisis of faith as a young man. Our kids need to be at church and need to see us at church.
Still, it's nice when we're actually able to pay attention.
Recently, as a stroke of genius, Stef had the idea to give Kelsey some responsibility and have her take Kaya on walks through the halls during Sacrament Meeting. Though we still have to deal with two kids who might try to get up and bolt at any given moment, it's easier than getting pulled in four different directions.
Today, thanks to Kelsey, we actually got to half-listen to one of the talks, as well as a surprisingly-not-horrible rendition of O Holy Night. It was great; with O Holy Night, if it's not just about perfect, it's usually terrible.
At the conclusion of the meeting, the woman offering the benediction thanked her Heavenly Father for the gift of His Son. Upon hearing her plead that we would all remember the true spirit of Christmas, I could swear that Christmas bells were ringing faintly in the distance. As the prayer grew longer, the ringing grew stronger. Soon, the ringing was so loud that nobody in the congregation could ignore it.
At the very moment that the prayer ended, the Christmas bells arrived at the open door to the chapel. "Amen," we all repeated, whipping our heads around to see what was causing all the commotion.
In came Kaya with a huge smile on her face and a bell in her hand. I shook my head and chuckled, burying my head in my hands. Seeing the others' laughs and understanding smiles through my fingers dissolved all worry.
I sure love these kids.
Showing posts with label Kelsey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kelsey. Show all posts
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Kelsey Didn't Want to Go to Han-pock Fabrics
When I was a kid—maybe 3 or 4 years old—I went missing. My mom had been getting ready to go to the fabric store—Hancock Fabrics—and I didn't want to go. So I disappeared. She looked everywhere in the house, and when she couldn't find me, called the police. Right before the police showed up, she had the feeling that she should look under her bed. There wasn't much space there—definitely less than a foot of clearance—but there I was, fast asleep. When I woke up, I explained why I had crawled under the bed in the first place—I didn't want to go to "Han-pock Fabrics".
A few months ago, the news networks got swept up into the Balloon Boy fiasco, where a kid supposedly crawled into a weather balloon before it was "mistakenly released" into the sky to the horror of many. I remember thinking that he was probably fine, since the whole "he might have climbed into the balloon by accident" angle seemed a lot less plausible than the "he's probably hiding somewhere" one. As a parent, however, the possibility that this child was in danger resonated with me, as it probably did with many parents around the world. It's probably why we felt cheated when the whole thing turned out to be a hoax, and he was found hiding in his attic, likely at the behest of his fame-seeking scumbag parents.
Yesterday, Kelsey went missing at church while I was in class. The lady who was in charge of nursery had taken her eye off Kelsey for a moment, and that was all the time Kelsey needed to slip out the back door and start wandering the neighborhood. When I came out of my class, I saw a lady go out the back door, calling Kelsey's name. I hurried to catch up and find out what had happened, when I saw that a few other people had gone after her. They had just found her laying defiantly on a wooden pallet outside a business two buildings behind the church building when I showed up. I picked her up and carried her back to church. As we walked back, she said that she wanted to go to the playground. My heart was pumping at the brief thought that Kelsey had been lost, but the nursery teacher apologized for not watching her closely, and all was well. Or so I thought.
The guy who normally picks us up for church, Aki-san, didn't show up that day, so we had to come by taxi (after first leaving on bikes and realizing it was too cold for the girls). When church was out, nobody offered us a ride, so I started asking people how I should describe the church building, in order to correctly guide the taxi company to us. In the past, every time I'd described the location of the church building to taxi drivers, they'd get a bit confused (since nobody knows where the Mormon church is). I'd always had to tell them which streets to take and where to turn, so I anticipated a bit of difficulty when I called the taxi company.
I went outside to phone the taxi, away from the noise of the church halls. I explained that the church building was right by the Toyota dealership (the only one in town by a specific name), but the guy on the phone made no attempt to understand what I was saying. This is common in Japan. If you don't speak with a perfect accent, many people make no attempt to figure out what you are trying to tell them. Given that there's often an extremely specific way to ask certain questions, if you don't ask for things in the prescribed way, you often won't get anywhere—even if you pronounce everything correctly. They just give up and wait for you to come back with perfect Japanese, or at least written (in Japanese) instructions of what you want. Stef found this out the hard way when she went to pick her parents up at the train station by herself (luckily, I had given her parents a copy of the address in Japanese in case they needed it).
So, I explained that the church was the very next building, next to the car dealership, but the guy on the line got hung up on the fact that he didn't know which side of the building I was talking about. I got so frustrated with his inability to overlook such an unimportant detail (I mean, really? They can't just figure it out when they get to the car dealership?) that I told him that I no longer needed a taxi and hung up the phone. At this point, I was extremely frazzled. I just wanted to go home.
I walked back into the church to ask someone to either give us a ride or call the taxi company for me, when Stef came rushing towards me, asking me where Kelsey had gone. She was watching Mia, and thought that I was watching Kelsey. I checked in all the rooms at the church, but couldn't find her. I, along with ten other people, rushed outside and started looking in different directions throughout the neighborhood, calling out Kelsey's name. I was overwhelmed with the thought of losing Kelsey, so my calls for her got frantic. Walking with me was a mentally disabled man from church who meant well but kept parroting everything I said in his Japanese-English accent, causing my stress level to go through the roof.
At this point, I began to fear the worst. I continued to shout Kelsey's name as I wandered through the streets, checking the 5 foot-deep drainage canals that surrounded the roads in hopes that I wouldn't find her. Even though Japan is a safe place, there's no place on Earth where every single person can be trusted. The thought of someone taking her terrified me. All I could do is pray that she was all right.
I made my way back to the chapel to see if anybody had seen her, and one of the ladies waved and gave me a thumbs-up sign. Kelsey had gone into the sacrament room hid herself inside the pulpit. I couldn't be upset at her—she's just a kid, and she didn't understand the consequences of hiding. Nevertheless, it took me a good hour or so to get my emotions under control, and I was quite short with everybody as they asked if I was able to call the taxi. I vented my frustration about the taxi debacle and walked away from everybody, not really wanting any human contact. I won't even try to justify my behavior at that point. I know I was wrong.
I'm glad Kelsey was all right. I've resolved to pay closer attention to her at church and in public. We often let her wander around some stores as long as she's within sight, since she's so active and it's basically impossible to match her energy. Kelsey's a good girl; she gets a bit difficult when she's tired or hungry, but who doesn't? She's a sweet girl that likes to play, help, love, and be loved. She's also not even three years old, so we can't expect her to behave like an adult. She just wants to go outside—to go on walks with Mommy or Daddy. It doesn't matter where—the park, the cats around the corner, Han-pock fabrics—she just wants to get out. And there's nothing wrong with that.
A few months ago, the news networks got swept up into the Balloon Boy fiasco, where a kid supposedly crawled into a weather balloon before it was "mistakenly released" into the sky to the horror of many. I remember thinking that he was probably fine, since the whole "he might have climbed into the balloon by accident" angle seemed a lot less plausible than the "he's probably hiding somewhere" one. As a parent, however, the possibility that this child was in danger resonated with me, as it probably did with many parents around the world. It's probably why we felt cheated when the whole thing turned out to be a hoax, and he was found hiding in his attic, likely at the behest of his fame-seeking scumbag parents.
Yesterday, Kelsey went missing at church while I was in class. The lady who was in charge of nursery had taken her eye off Kelsey for a moment, and that was all the time Kelsey needed to slip out the back door and start wandering the neighborhood. When I came out of my class, I saw a lady go out the back door, calling Kelsey's name. I hurried to catch up and find out what had happened, when I saw that a few other people had gone after her. They had just found her laying defiantly on a wooden pallet outside a business two buildings behind the church building when I showed up. I picked her up and carried her back to church. As we walked back, she said that she wanted to go to the playground. My heart was pumping at the brief thought that Kelsey had been lost, but the nursery teacher apologized for not watching her closely, and all was well. Or so I thought.
The guy who normally picks us up for church, Aki-san, didn't show up that day, so we had to come by taxi (after first leaving on bikes and realizing it was too cold for the girls). When church was out, nobody offered us a ride, so I started asking people how I should describe the church building, in order to correctly guide the taxi company to us. In the past, every time I'd described the location of the church building to taxi drivers, they'd get a bit confused (since nobody knows where the Mormon church is). I'd always had to tell them which streets to take and where to turn, so I anticipated a bit of difficulty when I called the taxi company.
I went outside to phone the taxi, away from the noise of the church halls. I explained that the church building was right by the Toyota dealership (the only one in town by a specific name), but the guy on the phone made no attempt to understand what I was saying. This is common in Japan. If you don't speak with a perfect accent, many people make no attempt to figure out what you are trying to tell them. Given that there's often an extremely specific way to ask certain questions, if you don't ask for things in the prescribed way, you often won't get anywhere—even if you pronounce everything correctly. They just give up and wait for you to come back with perfect Japanese, or at least written (in Japanese) instructions of what you want. Stef found this out the hard way when she went to pick her parents up at the train station by herself (luckily, I had given her parents a copy of the address in Japanese in case they needed it).
So, I explained that the church was the very next building, next to the car dealership, but the guy on the line got hung up on the fact that he didn't know which side of the building I was talking about. I got so frustrated with his inability to overlook such an unimportant detail (I mean, really? They can't just figure it out when they get to the car dealership?) that I told him that I no longer needed a taxi and hung up the phone. At this point, I was extremely frazzled. I just wanted to go home.
I walked back into the church to ask someone to either give us a ride or call the taxi company for me, when Stef came rushing towards me, asking me where Kelsey had gone. She was watching Mia, and thought that I was watching Kelsey. I checked in all the rooms at the church, but couldn't find her. I, along with ten other people, rushed outside and started looking in different directions throughout the neighborhood, calling out Kelsey's name. I was overwhelmed with the thought of losing Kelsey, so my calls for her got frantic. Walking with me was a mentally disabled man from church who meant well but kept parroting everything I said in his Japanese-English accent, causing my stress level to go through the roof.
At this point, I began to fear the worst. I continued to shout Kelsey's name as I wandered through the streets, checking the 5 foot-deep drainage canals that surrounded the roads in hopes that I wouldn't find her. Even though Japan is a safe place, there's no place on Earth where every single person can be trusted. The thought of someone taking her terrified me. All I could do is pray that she was all right.
I made my way back to the chapel to see if anybody had seen her, and one of the ladies waved and gave me a thumbs-up sign. Kelsey had gone into the sacrament room hid herself inside the pulpit. I couldn't be upset at her—she's just a kid, and she didn't understand the consequences of hiding. Nevertheless, it took me a good hour or so to get my emotions under control, and I was quite short with everybody as they asked if I was able to call the taxi. I vented my frustration about the taxi debacle and walked away from everybody, not really wanting any human contact. I won't even try to justify my behavior at that point. I know I was wrong.
I'm glad Kelsey was all right. I've resolved to pay closer attention to her at church and in public. We often let her wander around some stores as long as she's within sight, since she's so active and it's basically impossible to match her energy. Kelsey's a good girl; she gets a bit difficult when she's tired or hungry, but who doesn't? She's a sweet girl that likes to play, help, love, and be loved. She's also not even three years old, so we can't expect her to behave like an adult. She just wants to go outside—to go on walks with Mommy or Daddy. It doesn't matter where—the park, the cats around the corner, Han-pock fabrics—she just wants to get out. And there's nothing wrong with that.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Mia's home! 2: Electric Boogaloo
Mia's finally back home from the hospital.
Three weeks ago, we took Mia to her doctor for a fever that had climbed up to nearly 103 degrees and wasn't showing any signs of going away. We had already been to the doctor four times that week for Kelsey, who had broken out in hives and had a swollen upper lip. The doctor suggested we take her to the hospital. We called the branch president of our church, who picked us up and took us to the Imabari prefectural hospital.
After I filled out some forms, a doctor checked Mia and said that she most likely had some sort of bacterial infection. She recommended we admit her to the hospital for a few days so that they could treat her and keep an eye on her. They gave her an IV and prepared a room on the fourth floor. The nurse said that Stefanie would have to stay with Mia at the hospital, sharing a full-size crib.
I planned to visit Stef each day after Kelsey's afternoon nap and bring dinner for all of us to share. When I came back the second day, Mia was grumpy and her fever was persistent. I asked the doctor what he thought, and he said that even though her fever had climbed to 104 and wasn't coming down, she wasn't having any serious problems like convulsions. He still anticipated a quick recovery.
A couple hours after speaking with the doctor, Mia started to have febrile convulsions. I pressed the nurse-call button and asked them to come to the room. When nobody seemed to show up, I ran out to the nurse station to ask them to hurry. The nurse sitting at the desk told me that Mia's nurse had already left for the room. I ran back to the room, and the nurse was looking at Mia, who was sluggish and unresponsive, and still convulsing. She asked how long she had been like that, and I explained that she had just started shaking. She quickly exited the room and was soon joined by Mia's doctor and another nurse, who picked Mia up and whisked her away to another area of the hospital, leaving us behind. I consoled Kelsey as she reached out and cried, "Oh no, baby Mia!" as they disappeared with her little sister. Stef and I looked at each other, and I could tell that we were thinking the same thing.
When Mia was born sixteen weeks premature on a boat, Stef and I both felt a calming assurance that everything would be all right. When they rushed Mia away, neither of us felt that assurance. I embraced Stef and told her how much I loved her, assuring her that we'd make it through everything okay.
I'm not really sure how long Mia was gone. In the 45-120 minutes that she was with the doctors, I had enough time to consider nearly all possible outcomes. All I could do was pray that she'd be all right and that we'd have enough strength to deal with the outcome.
Mia and the doctor's entourage finally returned to the fourth floor, where we were waiting. The doctor said that they had stabilized her with some medicine for the convulsions. Her fever was still high, but she was going to be all right. They moved her into a room that was right across from the nurse station, allowing for constant supervision. Stef slept with Mia that night.
The next day, her fever dipped slightly, but came back in full force. The medicine for the bacterial infection didn't seem to be helping. When a rash broke out on her arm, the doctor realized that we might not be looking at a bacterial infection. It's almost unheard of in kids Mia's age, but it seemed like Mia was suffering from Kawasaki Disease, a condition that targets the heart. As a preemie, Mia already has a heart condition called Atrial Septal Defect, which is, to put it clearly, a hole in her heart. So, we knew from the moment the doctor mulled the Kawasaki diagnosis that we needed to be worried about her heart.
Mia's convulsion medication left her sluggish and unable to eat, so we had to feed her with a medicine dropper, 2 milliliters at a time. She had difficulty swallowing, and so a lot of the milk seemed to be going down the wrong tube. But since I had a way to feed her, I stayed at the hospital so that Stef could have a break.
Along with the fever and rash, Mia had conjunctivitis, cracked lips, and another symptom (that I can't remember), which all together pointed to a diagnosis of Kawasaki Disease. The doctor started administering treatment of antibodies (immunoglobulins), which are generally very effective in treating Kawasaki Disease.
During the first stage of immunoglobulin treatment, Mia wasn't responding very well. The nurses left it up to us to remember when to administer her oral medication. The idea of us forgetting to give her an essential drug frightened me, so I asked them to remind us.
Stef stayed with Mia the next night, and I slept at home with Kelsey. Stef felt guilty about sleeping that night, because she wasn't sure the nurses would always respond promptly to problems. At home, a package from my mom that had a crib sheet had come while I was gone. Without Stef around, a simple thing like seeing the unused crib sheet or Mia's empty jungle bouncer was too much to handle.
The next morning, I went in to the hospital to check on Mia, because Stef was worried about a patch of raised skin above Mia's right ear. She wasn't sure if it was a skin reaction or if it was coming from inside her head. Stef had noticed it when she went to check Mia's temperature, which was up around 104 degrees. Up until that point, there hadn't been much difficulty communicating with the hospital staff. However, when Stef tried to describe her concerns to the nurse, things got a little complicated. I arrived at the hospital and took over, since my Japanese is much better than the nurse's English.
Since Mia is so young, using fever control medication is too risky. The only thing they could do to control her body temperature was put a cold-pack under her neck. When Stef woke up, the cold pack had returned to room temperature. I asked if the cold-pack shouldn't be replaced, and the nurse got a bit defensive. I explained that we were worried about her fever being so high and that we wanted to do everything we could to keep Mia from burning up. After a few failed attempts to explain our worries, the nurse broke down and started crying. She was tired and had forgotten to come and check Mia's temperature and change the ice pack. She felt guilty that we couldn't trust her to watch over Mia while Stef slept. As she sat there with tears streaming down her face, Stef leaned and gave her a hug, which seemed to make her even more uncomfortable. The doctor on duty came in and the nurse calmed down. Soon after, Mia had a new nurse. Her shift might have been over, but I think that they gave her a break from us.
I had a meeting with the doctor, various nurses, and a translator, in which they described Kawasaki Disease and the treatment plan. I only needed the translator for two medical terms--the rest was clear. There were two more stages of immunoglobulin treatments--if one didn't work, they'd step it up to the next level. If the next level wasn't effective, they'd have to try the immunosuppressant Cyclosporin A, which is only administered at the Matsuyama Central Hospital, where Mia spent the first four months of her life.
The thought of having to go back to Matsuyama made me queasy. I was trying to wrap my head around all the information so that I could pass it on to Stef, who was watching Kelsey during the meeting. Just ten minutes after the meeting, while I was in the middle of explaining the plan, the doctor changed his mind. Mia had chest congestion, and the results of her ultrasound had them fearing bronchitis and pneumonia in addition to all the other problems. They said that they needed to transport her right away to the ICU in Matsuyama.
Stef and I took Kelsey to our friend Kris' house to stay for the night. Stef and I rode to Matsuyama with Akiko-san, a lady who works for the International Center in town. We got to the hospital at night and met the huge team of doctors that would be taking care of Mia. We saw a lot of the doctors and nurses who were in the NICU when Mia was there, and they all greeted us and asked how Mia was doing. I stayed the night with Stef at the hospital, and returned to Imabari the next morning to pick Kelsey up.
We were told to expect at least a week for recovery. The doctors said that Mia had stabilized from earlier but that her fever was still high. Over the next few days, her fever would briefly drop, then climb back up to the 102-104 range. I called the missionaries in Matsuyama to see if there was anywhere Kelsey and I could stay for the next few days. The Sumida family, who used to give us a ride to church when we lived in Matsuyama, let us stay there. They have young kids, so they agreed to watch Kelsey the first day while I went to see Mia. They were also kind to prepare meals for us in the morning and evening. We even got to take rice balls that they had made with us for a snack.
After two or three days in Matsuyama, it seemed as though Mia might be getting better. Her temperature was close to normal, so I planned to take Kelsey back home with me to Imabari after visiting Stef and Mia for the day. When I was getting stuff ready early that morning at the Sumida's house, I received a text message from Stef that said, "Maybe you shouldn't go back to Imabari today. Doctors afraid of cardiac failure." I asked the Sumidas if they'd be willing to watch Kelsey again while I went to the hospital. It was impossible to keep my emotions in check as I described the complications. They agreed to watch Kelsey, and I rushed to the train station.
I got there right as both trains were arriving, so I was unable to board. Had it just been my train that was there, I would have had no problem getting onto the platform. But since a train was coming the other way, the railroad gates came down and I was forced to watch the train as it pulled up, waited for people to load, and then pulled away. The gates opened up and I went up to the platform and sat down on the bench, sobbing uncontrollably as I waited for the next train to come. All the people around me avoided making any kind of eye contact with the big, blabbering foreigner.
When I got to the hospital, the doctors handed me a laundry list of all of the problems that Mia was facing. Normally, doctors will explain problems and then go over the possible treatments, phrasing everything in a tactful way so as to give you hope for your child's recovery. With the language barrier, all information given in English was supplied without any such optimism. Just a list of the problems and their ultimate outcomes if treatment is ineffective.
Mia's pericardial effusion (swelling of her heart due to fluid retention) was getting worse, and her heart rate was getting dangerously high. Her fever was back in full force, and the immunoglobulin treatment had stopped having any effect. The doctors explained that they were going to have to begin Cyclosporin treatment, which was risky.
After explaining the treatment plan to me, the doctors huddled around me and asked if there was anything I wanted to "kiku". In Japanese, the word kiku means both to hear and to ask, so I said that I'd like to "kiku" that Mia would get better the next day. The doctors frowned and apologized that it wasn't something that they could say. They patted me on the back and encouraged me to "ganbatte," which roughly translates to hang on or stay strong.
The next day, things got even more complicated. Kelsey's rash, about which we had seen the doctor multiple times, got even worse, and she had a fever of about 101.5 degrees. I had forgotten to bring her hives medication with me to Matsuyama, so her rash wasn't getting any better. She was lively and happy, but her rash, fever and previous mouth-swelling made me worry that she might have Kawasaki disease, too. It's not contagious, so it would have been a huge coincidence. Needless to say, the last thing we wanted was to have to worry about Kelsey, too.
I set an appointment for Kelsey for the next morning. It turned out to just be a bacterial infection that came from the scratching when she had hives. What a relief. We got medicine which we faithfully applied until her rash went away.
Mia's doctors started the Cyclosporin treatment. Brother Sumida came to the hospital and we gave Mia a priesthood blessing right after the new treatment. I gave Stef a blessing, and then rode back to the Sumida family's house. When we got there, I asked if Brother Sumida and his son (the Branch President) would give me a blessing as well. I struggled with not knowing if Mia would get better. All I wanted was to see her smile again. The Sumidas blessed me with faith in the healing power of the priesthood. Having received this blessing, I remembered part of my patriarchal blessing, which discusses my children and the strength of their spirits. I felt strongly that Mia would get better.
The next morning, Mia was doing a bit better. The medication was working well. Her heart had shrunk slightly with the diuretic that she was taking, but was still way too big. Over the next few days, her heart returned to mostly normal size, and her fever completely subsided. She was getting better. She no longer needed to be in the ICU, and they were going to transfer her back to the Imabari prefectural hospital.
When Stef was leaving the hospital, the nurses asked her to pay her hospital bill before leaving, which was 240. They asked if she had the money on her, and she responded incredulously that she didn't. Why would she keep 240 bucks on her in cash? She went down to the ATM with the nurses, who kept asking if she was sure that she didn't have that much on her. Frustrated with the persistent questioning, she pulled out her change purse and said, "This is all I have on me." The nurse swiped the change purse, unzipped it, and pulled out 240 yen, the equivalent of about $2.50. Our hospital bill in Matsuyama wasn't even three dollars.
Back in Imabari, Stef again stayed with Mia at the hospital. The nurse who had broken down was once again on duty, and happy to see Mia in improving condition. The doctor and his staff monitored Mia and performed echocardiograms to monitor her heart, which was steadily improving. They estimated her treatment period at two weeks, but said that it could go quicker.
That was bring-your-daughter-to-work week. I was lucky to not have a grueling work schedule during this time. Kelsey came with me and ran around on the top floor of the city office building while I talked with the other English teachers. As inconvenient this whole experience was, there was no better time for it to happen than Summer break.
After a week in Imabari, Mia was all better and ready to come home. When I asked how we could pay the bill, the nurses said that we wouldn't be receiving one. She's covered 100% under our insurance. Whew.
Not being able to speak to family through all this really stunk. The only way I could keep myself from emotionally falling apart was to stay close to Stef. Stef really missed her mom.
It's great to have Mia back at home, jumping in her bouncer. I've promised myself to be more involved with Mia and to take more pictures and video of my children. Nothing is more important than family.
Three weeks ago, we took Mia to her doctor for a fever that had climbed up to nearly 103 degrees and wasn't showing any signs of going away. We had already been to the doctor four times that week for Kelsey, who had broken out in hives and had a swollen upper lip. The doctor suggested we take her to the hospital. We called the branch president of our church, who picked us up and took us to the Imabari prefectural hospital.
After I filled out some forms, a doctor checked Mia and said that she most likely had some sort of bacterial infection. She recommended we admit her to the hospital for a few days so that they could treat her and keep an eye on her. They gave her an IV and prepared a room on the fourth floor. The nurse said that Stefanie would have to stay with Mia at the hospital, sharing a full-size crib.
I planned to visit Stef each day after Kelsey's afternoon nap and bring dinner for all of us to share. When I came back the second day, Mia was grumpy and her fever was persistent. I asked the doctor what he thought, and he said that even though her fever had climbed to 104 and wasn't coming down, she wasn't having any serious problems like convulsions. He still anticipated a quick recovery.
A couple hours after speaking with the doctor, Mia started to have febrile convulsions. I pressed the nurse-call button and asked them to come to the room. When nobody seemed to show up, I ran out to the nurse station to ask them to hurry. The nurse sitting at the desk told me that Mia's nurse had already left for the room. I ran back to the room, and the nurse was looking at Mia, who was sluggish and unresponsive, and still convulsing. She asked how long she had been like that, and I explained that she had just started shaking. She quickly exited the room and was soon joined by Mia's doctor and another nurse, who picked Mia up and whisked her away to another area of the hospital, leaving us behind. I consoled Kelsey as she reached out and cried, "Oh no, baby Mia!" as they disappeared with her little sister. Stef and I looked at each other, and I could tell that we were thinking the same thing.
When Mia was born sixteen weeks premature on a boat, Stef and I both felt a calming assurance that everything would be all right. When they rushed Mia away, neither of us felt that assurance. I embraced Stef and told her how much I loved her, assuring her that we'd make it through everything okay.
I'm not really sure how long Mia was gone. In the 45-120 minutes that she was with the doctors, I had enough time to consider nearly all possible outcomes. All I could do was pray that she'd be all right and that we'd have enough strength to deal with the outcome.
Mia and the doctor's entourage finally returned to the fourth floor, where we were waiting. The doctor said that they had stabilized her with some medicine for the convulsions. Her fever was still high, but she was going to be all right. They moved her into a room that was right across from the nurse station, allowing for constant supervision. Stef slept with Mia that night.
The next day, her fever dipped slightly, but came back in full force. The medicine for the bacterial infection didn't seem to be helping. When a rash broke out on her arm, the doctor realized that we might not be looking at a bacterial infection. It's almost unheard of in kids Mia's age, but it seemed like Mia was suffering from Kawasaki Disease, a condition that targets the heart. As a preemie, Mia already has a heart condition called Atrial Septal Defect, which is, to put it clearly, a hole in her heart. So, we knew from the moment the doctor mulled the Kawasaki diagnosis that we needed to be worried about her heart.
Mia's convulsion medication left her sluggish and unable to eat, so we had to feed her with a medicine dropper, 2 milliliters at a time. She had difficulty swallowing, and so a lot of the milk seemed to be going down the wrong tube. But since I had a way to feed her, I stayed at the hospital so that Stef could have a break.
Along with the fever and rash, Mia had conjunctivitis, cracked lips, and another symptom (that I can't remember), which all together pointed to a diagnosis of Kawasaki Disease. The doctor started administering treatment of antibodies (immunoglobulins), which are generally very effective in treating Kawasaki Disease.
During the first stage of immunoglobulin treatment, Mia wasn't responding very well. The nurses left it up to us to remember when to administer her oral medication. The idea of us forgetting to give her an essential drug frightened me, so I asked them to remind us.
Stef stayed with Mia the next night, and I slept at home with Kelsey. Stef felt guilty about sleeping that night, because she wasn't sure the nurses would always respond promptly to problems. At home, a package from my mom that had a crib sheet had come while I was gone. Without Stef around, a simple thing like seeing the unused crib sheet or Mia's empty jungle bouncer was too much to handle.
The next morning, I went in to the hospital to check on Mia, because Stef was worried about a patch of raised skin above Mia's right ear. She wasn't sure if it was a skin reaction or if it was coming from inside her head. Stef had noticed it when she went to check Mia's temperature, which was up around 104 degrees. Up until that point, there hadn't been much difficulty communicating with the hospital staff. However, when Stef tried to describe her concerns to the nurse, things got a little complicated. I arrived at the hospital and took over, since my Japanese is much better than the nurse's English.
Since Mia is so young, using fever control medication is too risky. The only thing they could do to control her body temperature was put a cold-pack under her neck. When Stef woke up, the cold pack had returned to room temperature. I asked if the cold-pack shouldn't be replaced, and the nurse got a bit defensive. I explained that we were worried about her fever being so high and that we wanted to do everything we could to keep Mia from burning up. After a few failed attempts to explain our worries, the nurse broke down and started crying. She was tired and had forgotten to come and check Mia's temperature and change the ice pack. She felt guilty that we couldn't trust her to watch over Mia while Stef slept. As she sat there with tears streaming down her face, Stef leaned and gave her a hug, which seemed to make her even more uncomfortable. The doctor on duty came in and the nurse calmed down. Soon after, Mia had a new nurse. Her shift might have been over, but I think that they gave her a break from us.
I had a meeting with the doctor, various nurses, and a translator, in which they described Kawasaki Disease and the treatment plan. I only needed the translator for two medical terms--the rest was clear. There were two more stages of immunoglobulin treatments--if one didn't work, they'd step it up to the next level. If the next level wasn't effective, they'd have to try the immunosuppressant Cyclosporin A, which is only administered at the Matsuyama Central Hospital, where Mia spent the first four months of her life.
The thought of having to go back to Matsuyama made me queasy. I was trying to wrap my head around all the information so that I could pass it on to Stef, who was watching Kelsey during the meeting. Just ten minutes after the meeting, while I was in the middle of explaining the plan, the doctor changed his mind. Mia had chest congestion, and the results of her ultrasound had them fearing bronchitis and pneumonia in addition to all the other problems. They said that they needed to transport her right away to the ICU in Matsuyama.
Stef and I took Kelsey to our friend Kris' house to stay for the night. Stef and I rode to Matsuyama with Akiko-san, a lady who works for the International Center in town. We got to the hospital at night and met the huge team of doctors that would be taking care of Mia. We saw a lot of the doctors and nurses who were in the NICU when Mia was there, and they all greeted us and asked how Mia was doing. I stayed the night with Stef at the hospital, and returned to Imabari the next morning to pick Kelsey up.
We were told to expect at least a week for recovery. The doctors said that Mia had stabilized from earlier but that her fever was still high. Over the next few days, her fever would briefly drop, then climb back up to the 102-104 range. I called the missionaries in Matsuyama to see if there was anywhere Kelsey and I could stay for the next few days. The Sumida family, who used to give us a ride to church when we lived in Matsuyama, let us stay there. They have young kids, so they agreed to watch Kelsey the first day while I went to see Mia. They were also kind to prepare meals for us in the morning and evening. We even got to take rice balls that they had made with us for a snack.
After two or three days in Matsuyama, it seemed as though Mia might be getting better. Her temperature was close to normal, so I planned to take Kelsey back home with me to Imabari after visiting Stef and Mia for the day. When I was getting stuff ready early that morning at the Sumida's house, I received a text message from Stef that said, "Maybe you shouldn't go back to Imabari today. Doctors afraid of cardiac failure." I asked the Sumidas if they'd be willing to watch Kelsey again while I went to the hospital. It was impossible to keep my emotions in check as I described the complications. They agreed to watch Kelsey, and I rushed to the train station.
I got there right as both trains were arriving, so I was unable to board. Had it just been my train that was there, I would have had no problem getting onto the platform. But since a train was coming the other way, the railroad gates came down and I was forced to watch the train as it pulled up, waited for people to load, and then pulled away. The gates opened up and I went up to the platform and sat down on the bench, sobbing uncontrollably as I waited for the next train to come. All the people around me avoided making any kind of eye contact with the big, blabbering foreigner.
When I got to the hospital, the doctors handed me a laundry list of all of the problems that Mia was facing. Normally, doctors will explain problems and then go over the possible treatments, phrasing everything in a tactful way so as to give you hope for your child's recovery. With the language barrier, all information given in English was supplied without any such optimism. Just a list of the problems and their ultimate outcomes if treatment is ineffective.
Mia's pericardial effusion (swelling of her heart due to fluid retention) was getting worse, and her heart rate was getting dangerously high. Her fever was back in full force, and the immunoglobulin treatment had stopped having any effect. The doctors explained that they were going to have to begin Cyclosporin treatment, which was risky.
After explaining the treatment plan to me, the doctors huddled around me and asked if there was anything I wanted to "kiku". In Japanese, the word kiku means both to hear and to ask, so I said that I'd like to "kiku" that Mia would get better the next day. The doctors frowned and apologized that it wasn't something that they could say. They patted me on the back and encouraged me to "ganbatte," which roughly translates to hang on or stay strong.
The next day, things got even more complicated. Kelsey's rash, about which we had seen the doctor multiple times, got even worse, and she had a fever of about 101.5 degrees. I had forgotten to bring her hives medication with me to Matsuyama, so her rash wasn't getting any better. She was lively and happy, but her rash, fever and previous mouth-swelling made me worry that she might have Kawasaki disease, too. It's not contagious, so it would have been a huge coincidence. Needless to say, the last thing we wanted was to have to worry about Kelsey, too.
I set an appointment for Kelsey for the next morning. It turned out to just be a bacterial infection that came from the scratching when she had hives. What a relief. We got medicine which we faithfully applied until her rash went away.
Mia's doctors started the Cyclosporin treatment. Brother Sumida came to the hospital and we gave Mia a priesthood blessing right after the new treatment. I gave Stef a blessing, and then rode back to the Sumida family's house. When we got there, I asked if Brother Sumida and his son (the Branch President) would give me a blessing as well. I struggled with not knowing if Mia would get better. All I wanted was to see her smile again. The Sumidas blessed me with faith in the healing power of the priesthood. Having received this blessing, I remembered part of my patriarchal blessing, which discusses my children and the strength of their spirits. I felt strongly that Mia would get better.
The next morning, Mia was doing a bit better. The medication was working well. Her heart had shrunk slightly with the diuretic that she was taking, but was still way too big. Over the next few days, her heart returned to mostly normal size, and her fever completely subsided. She was getting better. She no longer needed to be in the ICU, and they were going to transfer her back to the Imabari prefectural hospital.
When Stef was leaving the hospital, the nurses asked her to pay her hospital bill before leaving, which was 240. They asked if she had the money on her, and she responded incredulously that she didn't. Why would she keep 240 bucks on her in cash? She went down to the ATM with the nurses, who kept asking if she was sure that she didn't have that much on her. Frustrated with the persistent questioning, she pulled out her change purse and said, "This is all I have on me." The nurse swiped the change purse, unzipped it, and pulled out 240 yen, the equivalent of about $2.50. Our hospital bill in Matsuyama wasn't even three dollars.
Back in Imabari, Stef again stayed with Mia at the hospital. The nurse who had broken down was once again on duty, and happy to see Mia in improving condition. The doctor and his staff monitored Mia and performed echocardiograms to monitor her heart, which was steadily improving. They estimated her treatment period at two weeks, but said that it could go quicker.
That was bring-your-daughter-to-work week. I was lucky to not have a grueling work schedule during this time. Kelsey came with me and ran around on the top floor of the city office building while I talked with the other English teachers. As inconvenient this whole experience was, there was no better time for it to happen than Summer break.
After a week in Imabari, Mia was all better and ready to come home. When I asked how we could pay the bill, the nurses said that we wouldn't be receiving one. She's covered 100% under our insurance. Whew.
Not being able to speak to family through all this really stunk. The only way I could keep myself from emotionally falling apart was to stay close to Stef. Stef really missed her mom.
It's great to have Mia back at home, jumping in her bouncer. I've promised myself to be more involved with Mia and to take more pictures and video of my children. Nothing is more important than family.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Our Trip to Osaka
Warning: long
When you have a baby abroad, you have to get a report of birth abroad from the consulate or embassy in the birth country. In addition to the birth report, you need to apply for a passport and social security number. The baby and both parents all need to be present in order to do this.
Mia was born so tiny and underdeveloped that we had to wait almost four months for her to be healthy enough to leave the hospital. Since she's now strong and healthy, we got to go to Osaka to do all her paperwork. I took a couple days off and we turned it into our first mini-vacation in Japan.
We had planned on taking the Orange Ferry, a huge vessel that leaves the Toyo (a city close to Imabari) port in the evening and arrives in Osaka the next morning. The Orange Ferry offers public quarters, where a bunch of people cram into a room and sleep on the ground next to each other with a little blanket and a buckwheat pillow. Little kids often have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, so we decided to look at other modes of transportation, just for the heck of it. We were going to pay about 12000 yen (about $120) per adult (kids under 3 are free) for round trip ferry tickets, but when we saw the prices of the express train, we realized that there was really no reason for us not to take the train. The train takes about three hours and cost only 8000 yen ($80 or so) more (total) than the communal boat. Sure, they offer private rooms on the boat, but they're more expensive than the train. We got to sleep at home--where the girls could actually get some rest--and only travel for a few hours.
We charged the laptop and put some Disney movies on the hard drive to keep Kelsey occupied. After a two-hour ride on an express train from Imabari to Okayama, we transferred to a bullet train bound for Osaka. I thought the express trains were fast; the bullet train blows away everything not flying thousands of feet in the air. The seats were big and cozy, and there was more than enough legroom for even me.
The first day, we took care of the paperwork at the consulate, and then went to find our hotel. We stayed at an old business hotel, which offered a Japanese-style tatami room with three Japanese futons, an AC unit, a fridge, and a TV. We had our own bathroom, but no bath. The first floor of the hotel had a Japanese-style communal bath with the first few hours of the evening reserved for men and the last few hours for women. We used the hotel as a hub and took the subway to various parts of town during our trip. The hotel was close enough to the subway station that we could go back for Kelsey's nap each day. If we were picky, we could have found reasons to complain. For the price (2000 yen per person, per night), it was great.
In the afternoon of the first day, we decided to look for a Mexican restaurant that we had read about online at an outdoor mall called Dotonbori. I should have remembered my own story about the mythical restaurant. We walked around for about three and a half hours, with half of that time spent just trying to find Dotonbori. I asked for directions at the hotel, and the front desk attendant gave us a map of Osaka and highlighted Dotonbori.
We got off at the correct stop, and then got lost. This particular stop was connected to a huge underground shopping plaza. The directions we had received required that we go up to the surface level right when we got to our stop, but there were so many shops with things to look at that we wandered farther and farther away from the exit we needed to take. When we got up to the ground level, we tried to locate ourselves on the map so we could head to Dotonbori. Unfortunately, it was basically impossible to figure out where we were. Figuring we'd eventually recognize something from the map, we just started walking toward the place where we thought Dotonbori might be. After a good chunk of time walking and talking, we decided to ask somebody for directions. According to an old octopus-ball salesman with a karate-style headband, we had walked a considerable distance past Dotonbori. We needed to walk back in the direction from which we came and turn left.
We turned around and walked back the other way for a while, but still couldn't find Dotonbori. We turned left where we thought the old man had told us to, but it became clear that we weren't going to find it without asking another person for directions. I went inside the first building I saw and asked an office lady if she could point us in the right direction. She stepped outside and pointed to where we needed to go, then gushed over how cute Kelsey and Mia were. We thanked her and set out for Dotonbori, which we could finally see in the distance. We needed to keep going and then turn right, not left.
We walked over to the right place and started looking around for the Mexican restaurant, which was supposedly called Hermanos. None of the people we stopped to ask knew where this restaurant was. I was determined not to have another all-you-can-eat yakiniku experience. We were going to find this place. Up and down the street we walked, scanning the five and six story buildings' signs. It was starting to get late, we were starving, and I was starting to lose my mind.
I found an internet café and searched for the restaurant. I got an address, the name of the neighboring hotel, and a phone number, which I decided not to call. We asked the locals where the hotel was, or if they could point us in the direction of the hotel, and finally, we got a lead. Someone knew where the hotel was, but wasn't sure if there was a Mexican restaurant anywhere near. We darted (as well as a family with a kid in a stroller can dart) to the hotel, and then examined the surrounding buildings. Nothing.
Undeterred, I entered the hotel and asked the desk clerk if he knew where the Mexican restaurant was. Next came the verbal punch to the stomach—Hermanos had been gone for a while. Let's review what I wrote about the mythical "perfect restaurant":
Number 1? Check. Except this time, I actually got confirmation that it doesn't exist. How could I have forgotten this lesson?
Number 2? Check. Though it was mostly our fault for not taking the first exit at the station, we were led astray by all but two of the seven or eight people we asked.
Number 3? Still a jerk. When we got confirmation that the place didn't exist, Imurdered a koala started to lose my patience. I told Stef that I was willing to eat anything that wasn't okonomiyaki, since we always get that. We almost entered two or three restaurants, but Stef couldn't commit, and I just about lost it. I just wanted food. Now. Or, then, at least. Which brings us to:
Number 4: Yeah, we caved in and went to an okonomiyaki shop. As hunger vanquished my life force, I lost the will to fight the status quo and gave in to the delicious cliché that is the fried savory pancake. We ordered okonomiyaki, nigiyaki (like okonomiyaki, but with a bunch of green onions), and omusoba. The omusoba, an omelette filled with yakisoba (noodles cooked in a savory sauce), was the best thing we ate on the whole trip. Never forget rule number 4.
Sure, I hate that I didn't follow my own rules regarding the Holy Grail of Restaurants. But on the plus side, it only confirmed my previous theory. And it taught me rule number 5: always make sure the restaurant you're searching for exists (by phone, etc.), and get directions.
I learned another rule the next day, when we went to Americatown. You know how big cities have Chinatowns, Japantowns, Koreatowns and Little Italys (Italies?) in America? Here in Osaka, it's Americatown, or Amerika-mura. If you're not into drinking or buying overpriced clothing imported from America, there's not much to do in Ame-mura (the shortened Japanese version). Well, that's not entirely true. It's a great place to people watch. Some of the craziest, most outrageous clothing and hairstyles that we saw in Osaka were in Ame-mura.
Earlier that morning, we went to Kaiyukan, a huge aquarium in Osaka. The aquarium route begins after riding a huge escalator up five stories or so, and slowly winds down toward the bottom, the sloped spiral path surrounded on both sides by fish-filled tanks. At the top, there are penguins, sea lions and dolphins. At an above-water sea lion exhibit, Kelsey prostrated herself on the ground and looked through the five or six inches of glass that were under the water line, hoping to see what the sea lions were doing under the surface. As you descend to the ground level, you can actually see the same sea lions swimming around. At the same time, the fish you see come from deeper and deeper waters, becoming gradually more exotic as you work your way down. Children, however, gradually lose interest in the fish and, in the end, just want to run and yell.
Blue = Awesomeness of Fish
Red = Child's Interest
We saw some manta rays (one as large as a small automobile), a couple of whale sharks, sea turtles, sun fish, arapaimas, giant crabs, jellyfish, eels, and countless other kinds of fish. It would have been nice if we could have really enjoyed the fish, but it was still fun to watch Kelsey squeal in delight as she ran to the glass to watch the dolphins zip around their tanks.
Toward the beginning of the aquarium, I saw one of the JETs from Imabari and said hi. I was surprised to see someone that I had met (albeit briefly) so far from Imabari, so I gave a big smile and said, "Hey, how's it going?" She clearly didn't remember me, so she averted her eyes as she passed and mumbled, "Good." I told Stef that she didn't seem friendly when I had met her before, and so she obviously didn't care enough to socialize. We ran into her later, and Stef, being the awesome woman that she is, decided to strike up a conversation instead of being bitter about the snub. She hadn't recognized me at all, but when we started talking, she was really friendly. I can see why she reacted the way she did, since I probably came across as The Creepy, Crazy, Overly-Friendly Guy Who Bugs You in Aquariums. You know, that guy. Anyway, she's been in Japan for five years and is going home in a couple weeks. Her sister is visiting in Japan before she heads back home.
Later that day, back in Ame-mura, Stef and I had been checking out some shops and scoping out potential restaurants for dinner. We saw a couple that appeared to serve things that we probably couldn't find in Imabari, and decided to eat at one of them after exploring the rest of Ame-mura. As we walked past a burger joint, we saw the Imabari JET with her sister, sitting and talking. We went over and sat down to chat a bit. We told her about our fruitless search for the Mexican restaurant, and how, other than the baby paperwork, all we really wanted to do in Osaka was eat Mexican food. We had been talking for a couple minutes, when suddenly I realized that Kelsey was grunting. Stef took her inside and helped her use the potty while I talked to the JET about a possible lead on a Mexican restaurant in the neighborhood. She drew us a crude map, explained how to get there. I knew that it was unlikely that we'd ever find it, so I thanked her and started thinking about where we were really going to eat.
Stef came out with Kelsey after a while, and we talked with the girls for a few more minutes. I told Stef about the restaurant, and she agreed to look for it for a few minutes—under the condition that if we didn't find it soon, we'd eat at one of the other places that we had already found. As we were wandering around, looking for the restaurant, a man named Rigby stopped and asked us if we needed help finding anything. I told him about the taco shop, and he told me that he not only knew where it was, but that he knew the owners and knew that it wouldn't be open for another 90 minutes or so. He gave us the owners' phone number and told us where to go. We had no trouble finding it.
We went to the lobby of a hotel to relax and pass the time while Stef fed Mia and Kelsey snacked on some pretzels. After a while, Kelsey got a little too restless, and we decided to go down and work our way back to the restaurant. We got there in time to meet one of the restaurant owners in the process of opening shop. We went up and sat down in what turned out to be a bar. Luckily, we got there before everybody showed up to drink. The bar served tacos, quesadillas, fajitas, and all sorts of other meals. The dimly lit bar was adorned with sombreros, ponchos, and other typical Mexican decorations, with salsa music booming in the background.
The owners didn't speak Spanish, but they sure knew how to cook Mexican food. We got some shredded chicken tacos, a shredded chicken quesadilla, some gourmet-style nachos, and a plate of eggs and chorizo with corn tortillas. We were forced to order one drink per adult (a sort of cover charge for the bar), so I got mango juice and Stef got some Jamaica drink. In all, the food cost over 5000 yen, but was worth everypenny yen...ny (sorry). It was the perfect dinner for the perfect day with the fam. So, rule number 6, which I learned that day, is as follows: if you have followed rule number 1, and are okay with the idea of eating somewhere else (countering rule number 3, honoring the spirit of rule number 4), then you can implement rule number 5, provided that the person that you ask is not Japanese (rule number 2).
While it seems complicated, rule number 6 is quite simple: don't get your hopes up, make sure the place really exists, get directions from an English speaker, have a backup plan, and stay in a good mood, and you may just stumble across the Holy Grail of Restaurants.
We capped the night off with some ice cream, which we ate on the subway ride back to our hotel.
The third day, our only plans were to go to Costco and return to the hotel. We accomplished both goals. Costco was fantastic. After renewing my membership, we walked up and down the aisles, carefully making note of everything they were selling. We got two cases of Dad's Root Beer, some corn bread mix, a gigantic sack of tortilla chips, and a few other things. What we really wanted, though, was the food from the food court. Costco dogs. Pickle relish. Churros. Heaven.
Costco was packed—much more than any Costco I've ever seen in America. Stef saw some people complaining about the size of the shopping carts, which were the same size as the carts at Costco in America. They had no idea what to do with such a beast. In Japan, shopping carts are just a regular shopping basket that you put on a frame with wheels. One Costco shopping cart equals ten or twelve of the other shopping carts. This does not make it easy to navigate the store. Imagine the busiest subway station in Tokyo, with shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic clogging the grounds. Now give each of those people their own hippopotamus-sized shopping cart and watch as nobody gets anywhere. At one point, my stomach dropped as I watched a family, only ten feet away, swoop in to grab the beef jerky samples, with me trapped in a sea of shopping carts. All I could do wasslash their tires shake my fist and curse them. In my mind.
That evening, after a nice nap, we had no plans. We walked around a cool electronics district, where I bought some headphones. Well, one side of it was cool. The other side was littered with porn shops. The night before, I took Mia out for a walk, and explored a nearby restaurant district. I turned a corner and looked up, only to realize that I had stepped into the red light district. Humongous murals of naked women covered the facades of the buildings. I took my baby and promptly headed in the other direction. I can't believe the stuff that they show in public here. I guess there are places like that in most countries. I'm glad that they don't allow that in the U.S.
Back in the restaurant district, we looked for a place to eat. Employees from the myriad restaurants begged us to patronize their restaurants. When you walk through a restaurant district, you can, at any given time, have four or five different people shouting the praises of their restaurant at you. And it's not just the invasion of personal space that's annoying. Their voices are high-pitched, nasal bleats specifically designed to cripple your defenses. It's a verbal battle royale for your business.
"Please eat here, oh beloved guest! Please enjoy our delectable cornucopia of cuisine. It's really good, I promise!"
"No! Please, please, please come eat here! You'll love it! It's a veritable smorgasbord of cornucopias!"
"I won't cut myself with a samurai sword if you find it in your heart to give us the honor of enjoying your presence in our humble establishment!"
Stef and I really wanted to eat at one restaurant, but the street screamer was so annoying that we almost walked away just to spite him. I turned around to consult with Stef, and we vocalized that we were going to eat there because the food looked good, and not let the Gilbert Gottfried of Japanese restaurant employees stand in our way. I turned and walked away from the restaurant, signaling that we were heading in another direction. At the last second, I spun around and ducked inside the doors, after which the guy followed us in and shouted to the staff that they needed to prepare a table for four. It's okay. Let him think he convinced us. We were there for the food.
I saw something that looked like tacos, and I ordered it. They were curry-flavored tacos, and they weren't half bad. Stef, craving the omusoba that we ordered the first night, got some yakisoba. Kelsey had ginger for dinner (and some noodles). She eats pickled ginger plain. We have no idea how she does it, since it's such a strong flavor, and neither of us like it very much. That night, we watched Kelsey use chopsticks, successfully, for the first time. Her form needs some work, but it was still mighty impressive.
The next morning, we went to church at the Abeno Ward in Osaka. Finding the church proved to be quite the task. A few unanswered phone calls to missionaries and one useless taxi driver later, we found ourselves in the neighborhood of the church, with no idea which side of the city block it stood on. We found the church, but we had missed the Sacrament. The Abeno Ward was like a full-sized family ward in America. It was great to see so many people at church, including three sets of missionaries. Kelsey got a dolly from the nursery leader, who was excited to have someone to watch. Unfortunately, we had to leave. One family, the Kochis, gave us a ride to the station after Sacrament Meeting, saving us an hour or so in travel time. We took the trains and were home by about 4PM. Kelsey and Mia were great.
It was great to spend a few days in Osaka. We figured out how we like to do trips—it's best to plan about two things each day, and leave the rest of the time open for whatever else you want to do. You can relax or explore, and not feel like you have to run around to get a lot done. Riding the subway, while a bit expensive, is very convenient, and reminded me of our time in Matsuyama, where we rode the city trains all the time. We were also reminded how awesome it can be to be in a place with people and restaurants. Imabari's great, but there are so many more things to do in Osaka. It's nice to live in a laid-back place like Imabari, but it's important to experience city life every once in a while.
When you have a baby abroad, you have to get a report of birth abroad from the consulate or embassy in the birth country. In addition to the birth report, you need to apply for a passport and social security number. The baby and both parents all need to be present in order to do this.
Mia was born so tiny and underdeveloped that we had to wait almost four months for her to be healthy enough to leave the hospital. Since she's now strong and healthy, we got to go to Osaka to do all her paperwork. I took a couple days off and we turned it into our first mini-vacation in Japan.
We had planned on taking the Orange Ferry, a huge vessel that leaves the Toyo (a city close to Imabari) port in the evening and arrives in Osaka the next morning. The Orange Ferry offers public quarters, where a bunch of people cram into a room and sleep on the ground next to each other with a little blanket and a buckwheat pillow. Little kids often have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, so we decided to look at other modes of transportation, just for the heck of it. We were going to pay about 12000 yen (about $120) per adult (kids under 3 are free) for round trip ferry tickets, but when we saw the prices of the express train, we realized that there was really no reason for us not to take the train. The train takes about three hours and cost only 8000 yen ($80 or so) more (total) than the communal boat. Sure, they offer private rooms on the boat, but they're more expensive than the train. We got to sleep at home--where the girls could actually get some rest--and only travel for a few hours.
We charged the laptop and put some Disney movies on the hard drive to keep Kelsey occupied. After a two-hour ride on an express train from Imabari to Okayama, we transferred to a bullet train bound for Osaka. I thought the express trains were fast; the bullet train blows away everything not flying thousands of feet in the air. The seats were big and cozy, and there was more than enough legroom for even me.
The first day, we took care of the paperwork at the consulate, and then went to find our hotel. We stayed at an old business hotel, which offered a Japanese-style tatami room with three Japanese futons, an AC unit, a fridge, and a TV. We had our own bathroom, but no bath. The first floor of the hotel had a Japanese-style communal bath with the first few hours of the evening reserved for men and the last few hours for women. We used the hotel as a hub and took the subway to various parts of town during our trip. The hotel was close enough to the subway station that we could go back for Kelsey's nap each day. If we were picky, we could have found reasons to complain. For the price (2000 yen per person, per night), it was great.
In the afternoon of the first day, we decided to look for a Mexican restaurant that we had read about online at an outdoor mall called Dotonbori. I should have remembered my own story about the mythical restaurant. We walked around for about three and a half hours, with half of that time spent just trying to find Dotonbori. I asked for directions at the hotel, and the front desk attendant gave us a map of Osaka and highlighted Dotonbori.
We got off at the correct stop, and then got lost. This particular stop was connected to a huge underground shopping plaza. The directions we had received required that we go up to the surface level right when we got to our stop, but there were so many shops with things to look at that we wandered farther and farther away from the exit we needed to take. When we got up to the ground level, we tried to locate ourselves on the map so we could head to Dotonbori. Unfortunately, it was basically impossible to figure out where we were. Figuring we'd eventually recognize something from the map, we just started walking toward the place where we thought Dotonbori might be. After a good chunk of time walking and talking, we decided to ask somebody for directions. According to an old octopus-ball salesman with a karate-style headband, we had walked a considerable distance past Dotonbori. We needed to walk back in the direction from which we came and turn left.
We turned around and walked back the other way for a while, but still couldn't find Dotonbori. We turned left where we thought the old man had told us to, but it became clear that we weren't going to find it without asking another person for directions. I went inside the first building I saw and asked an office lady if she could point us in the right direction. She stepped outside and pointed to where we needed to go, then gushed over how cute Kelsey and Mia were. We thanked her and set out for Dotonbori, which we could finally see in the distance. We needed to keep going and then turn right, not left.
We walked over to the right place and started looking around for the Mexican restaurant, which was supposedly called Hermanos. None of the people we stopped to ask knew where this restaurant was. I was determined not to have another all-you-can-eat yakiniku experience. We were going to find this place. Up and down the street we walked, scanning the five and six story buildings' signs. It was starting to get late, we were starving, and I was starting to lose my mind.
I found an internet café and searched for the restaurant. I got an address, the name of the neighboring hotel, and a phone number, which I decided not to call. We asked the locals where the hotel was, or if they could point us in the direction of the hotel, and finally, we got a lead. Someone knew where the hotel was, but wasn't sure if there was a Mexican restaurant anywhere near. We darted (as well as a family with a kid in a stroller can dart) to the hotel, and then examined the surrounding buildings. Nothing.
Undeterred, I entered the hotel and asked the desk clerk if he knew where the Mexican restaurant was. Next came the verbal punch to the stomach—Hermanos had been gone for a while. Let's review what I wrote about the mythical "perfect restaurant":
1. The Holy Grail of Restaurants, no matter where you are, doesn't exist. Don't be stubborn. You will not find it.
2. Don't ask for directions in Japan. It doesn't matter how little Japanese people actually know about something: they'll go totally out of their way to help you, even if it actually ends up being more of a hindrance than a help.
3. Dang it, even in my nostalgic, partially-confabulated peak season, I was still a jerk.
4. You can never go wrong with okonomiyaki.
Number 1? Check. Except this time, I actually got confirmation that it doesn't exist. How could I have forgotten this lesson?
Number 2? Check. Though it was mostly our fault for not taking the first exit at the station, we were led astray by all but two of the seven or eight people we asked.
Number 3? Still a jerk. When we got confirmation that the place didn't exist, I
Number 4: Yeah, we caved in and went to an okonomiyaki shop. As hunger vanquished my life force, I lost the will to fight the status quo and gave in to the delicious cliché that is the fried savory pancake. We ordered okonomiyaki, nigiyaki (like okonomiyaki, but with a bunch of green onions), and omusoba. The omusoba, an omelette filled with yakisoba (noodles cooked in a savory sauce), was the best thing we ate on the whole trip. Never forget rule number 4.
Sure, I hate that I didn't follow my own rules regarding the Holy Grail of Restaurants. But on the plus side, it only confirmed my previous theory. And it taught me rule number 5: always make sure the restaurant you're searching for exists (by phone, etc.), and get directions.
I learned another rule the next day, when we went to Americatown. You know how big cities have Chinatowns, Japantowns, Koreatowns and Little Italys (Italies?) in America? Here in Osaka, it's Americatown, or Amerika-mura. If you're not into drinking or buying overpriced clothing imported from America, there's not much to do in Ame-mura (the shortened Japanese version). Well, that's not entirely true. It's a great place to people watch. Some of the craziest, most outrageous clothing and hairstyles that we saw in Osaka were in Ame-mura.
Earlier that morning, we went to Kaiyukan, a huge aquarium in Osaka. The aquarium route begins after riding a huge escalator up five stories or so, and slowly winds down toward the bottom, the sloped spiral path surrounded on both sides by fish-filled tanks. At the top, there are penguins, sea lions and dolphins. At an above-water sea lion exhibit, Kelsey prostrated herself on the ground and looked through the five or six inches of glass that were under the water line, hoping to see what the sea lions were doing under the surface. As you descend to the ground level, you can actually see the same sea lions swimming around. At the same time, the fish you see come from deeper and deeper waters, becoming gradually more exotic as you work your way down. Children, however, gradually lose interest in the fish and, in the end, just want to run and yell.
Blue = Awesomeness of Fish
Red = Child's Interest
We saw some manta rays (one as large as a small automobile), a couple of whale sharks, sea turtles, sun fish, arapaimas, giant crabs, jellyfish, eels, and countless other kinds of fish. It would have been nice if we could have really enjoyed the fish, but it was still fun to watch Kelsey squeal in delight as she ran to the glass to watch the dolphins zip around their tanks.
Toward the beginning of the aquarium, I saw one of the JETs from Imabari and said hi. I was surprised to see someone that I had met (albeit briefly) so far from Imabari, so I gave a big smile and said, "Hey, how's it going?" She clearly didn't remember me, so she averted her eyes as she passed and mumbled, "Good." I told Stef that she didn't seem friendly when I had met her before, and so she obviously didn't care enough to socialize. We ran into her later, and Stef, being the awesome woman that she is, decided to strike up a conversation instead of being bitter about the snub. She hadn't recognized me at all, but when we started talking, she was really friendly. I can see why she reacted the way she did, since I probably came across as The Creepy, Crazy, Overly-Friendly Guy Who Bugs You in Aquariums. You know, that guy. Anyway, she's been in Japan for five years and is going home in a couple weeks. Her sister is visiting in Japan before she heads back home.
Later that day, back in Ame-mura, Stef and I had been checking out some shops and scoping out potential restaurants for dinner. We saw a couple that appeared to serve things that we probably couldn't find in Imabari, and decided to eat at one of them after exploring the rest of Ame-mura. As we walked past a burger joint, we saw the Imabari JET with her sister, sitting and talking. We went over and sat down to chat a bit. We told her about our fruitless search for the Mexican restaurant, and how, other than the baby paperwork, all we really wanted to do in Osaka was eat Mexican food. We had been talking for a couple minutes, when suddenly I realized that Kelsey was grunting. Stef took her inside and helped her use the potty while I talked to the JET about a possible lead on a Mexican restaurant in the neighborhood. She drew us a crude map, explained how to get there. I knew that it was unlikely that we'd ever find it, so I thanked her and started thinking about where we were really going to eat.
Stef came out with Kelsey after a while, and we talked with the girls for a few more minutes. I told Stef about the restaurant, and she agreed to look for it for a few minutes—under the condition that if we didn't find it soon, we'd eat at one of the other places that we had already found. As we were wandering around, looking for the restaurant, a man named Rigby stopped and asked us if we needed help finding anything. I told him about the taco shop, and he told me that he not only knew where it was, but that he knew the owners and knew that it wouldn't be open for another 90 minutes or so. He gave us the owners' phone number and told us where to go. We had no trouble finding it.
We went to the lobby of a hotel to relax and pass the time while Stef fed Mia and Kelsey snacked on some pretzels. After a while, Kelsey got a little too restless, and we decided to go down and work our way back to the restaurant. We got there in time to meet one of the restaurant owners in the process of opening shop. We went up and sat down in what turned out to be a bar. Luckily, we got there before everybody showed up to drink. The bar served tacos, quesadillas, fajitas, and all sorts of other meals. The dimly lit bar was adorned with sombreros, ponchos, and other typical Mexican decorations, with salsa music booming in the background.
The owners didn't speak Spanish, but they sure knew how to cook Mexican food. We got some shredded chicken tacos, a shredded chicken quesadilla, some gourmet-style nachos, and a plate of eggs and chorizo with corn tortillas. We were forced to order one drink per adult (a sort of cover charge for the bar), so I got mango juice and Stef got some Jamaica drink. In all, the food cost over 5000 yen, but was worth every
While it seems complicated, rule number 6 is quite simple: don't get your hopes up, make sure the place really exists, get directions from an English speaker, have a backup plan, and stay in a good mood, and you may just stumble across the Holy Grail of Restaurants.
We capped the night off with some ice cream, which we ate on the subway ride back to our hotel.
The third day, our only plans were to go to Costco and return to the hotel. We accomplished both goals. Costco was fantastic. After renewing my membership, we walked up and down the aisles, carefully making note of everything they were selling. We got two cases of Dad's Root Beer, some corn bread mix, a gigantic sack of tortilla chips, and a few other things. What we really wanted, though, was the food from the food court. Costco dogs. Pickle relish. Churros. Heaven.
Costco was packed—much more than any Costco I've ever seen in America. Stef saw some people complaining about the size of the shopping carts, which were the same size as the carts at Costco in America. They had no idea what to do with such a beast. In Japan, shopping carts are just a regular shopping basket that you put on a frame with wheels. One Costco shopping cart equals ten or twelve of the other shopping carts. This does not make it easy to navigate the store. Imagine the busiest subway station in Tokyo, with shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic clogging the grounds. Now give each of those people their own hippopotamus-sized shopping cart and watch as nobody gets anywhere. At one point, my stomach dropped as I watched a family, only ten feet away, swoop in to grab the beef jerky samples, with me trapped in a sea of shopping carts. All I could do was
That evening, after a nice nap, we had no plans. We walked around a cool electronics district, where I bought some headphones. Well, one side of it was cool. The other side was littered with porn shops. The night before, I took Mia out for a walk, and explored a nearby restaurant district. I turned a corner and looked up, only to realize that I had stepped into the red light district. Humongous murals of naked women covered the facades of the buildings. I took my baby and promptly headed in the other direction. I can't believe the stuff that they show in public here. I guess there are places like that in most countries. I'm glad that they don't allow that in the U.S.
Back in the restaurant district, we looked for a place to eat. Employees from the myriad restaurants begged us to patronize their restaurants. When you walk through a restaurant district, you can, at any given time, have four or five different people shouting the praises of their restaurant at you. And it's not just the invasion of personal space that's annoying. Their voices are high-pitched, nasal bleats specifically designed to cripple your defenses. It's a verbal battle royale for your business.
"Please eat here, oh beloved guest! Please enjoy our delectable cornucopia of cuisine. It's really good, I promise!"
"No! Please, please, please come eat here! You'll love it! It's a veritable smorgasbord of cornucopias!"
"I won't cut myself with a samurai sword if you find it in your heart to give us the honor of enjoying your presence in our humble establishment!"
Stef and I really wanted to eat at one restaurant, but the street screamer was so annoying that we almost walked away just to spite him. I turned around to consult with Stef, and we vocalized that we were going to eat there because the food looked good, and not let the Gilbert Gottfried of Japanese restaurant employees stand in our way. I turned and walked away from the restaurant, signaling that we were heading in another direction. At the last second, I spun around and ducked inside the doors, after which the guy followed us in and shouted to the staff that they needed to prepare a table for four. It's okay. Let him think he convinced us. We were there for the food.
I saw something that looked like tacos, and I ordered it. They were curry-flavored tacos, and they weren't half bad. Stef, craving the omusoba that we ordered the first night, got some yakisoba. Kelsey had ginger for dinner (and some noodles). She eats pickled ginger plain. We have no idea how she does it, since it's such a strong flavor, and neither of us like it very much. That night, we watched Kelsey use chopsticks, successfully, for the first time. Her form needs some work, but it was still mighty impressive.
The next morning, we went to church at the Abeno Ward in Osaka. Finding the church proved to be quite the task. A few unanswered phone calls to missionaries and one useless taxi driver later, we found ourselves in the neighborhood of the church, with no idea which side of the city block it stood on. We found the church, but we had missed the Sacrament. The Abeno Ward was like a full-sized family ward in America. It was great to see so many people at church, including three sets of missionaries. Kelsey got a dolly from the nursery leader, who was excited to have someone to watch. Unfortunately, we had to leave. One family, the Kochis, gave us a ride to the station after Sacrament Meeting, saving us an hour or so in travel time. We took the trains and were home by about 4PM. Kelsey and Mia were great.
It was great to spend a few days in Osaka. We figured out how we like to do trips—it's best to plan about two things each day, and leave the rest of the time open for whatever else you want to do. You can relax or explore, and not feel like you have to run around to get a lot done. Riding the subway, while a bit expensive, is very convenient, and reminded me of our time in Matsuyama, where we rode the city trains all the time. We were also reminded how awesome it can be to be in a place with people and restaurants. Imabari's great, but there are so many more things to do in Osaka. It's nice to live in a laid-back place like Imabari, but it's important to experience city life every once in a while.
Friday, April 3, 2009
First week in Imabari
Last night, I put Kelsey down for bed right before running to the store to check for deals. When I got back 20 minutes later, I checked to make sure she had gone to bed, and she was laying in the exact same position, fast asleep. Stef and I watched the last part of a movie, and then got ready for bed. Stef peeked in to check on Kelsey and groaned when she saw Kelsey's face covered in ink. It must have all happened in the 20 minutes that I was gone.
Today, I saw exactly how bad it was. Kelsey drew on her hands and face, and then stuffed eight felt-tipped markers inside her footed pajamas. She had a leaky diaper, and the combination of liquid, ink, and rolling around at night covered her whole body and pajamas in permanent ink. After an hour-and-a-half of scrubbing, she's still got ink all over. At least it's light enough that it shouldn't transfer to other things. And I got most of it off her face.
What a little stinker.
So, as I said before, Mia's home, and we're living in Imabari, where we used to go to church every week before Mia came early. I got transferred early, and I start work here on Monday. It's the beginning of a new school term, so a lot of the teachers will be new. In Japan, government employees transfer to new positions in new places after three years or so. People often have to work away from their families, and some even have to live on islands during the week and travel to see their families on weekends. Most just have to commute every day.
I have five schools that I visit--three elementary schools and two junior high schools. My main mode of transportation is a small ladies' bike with a basket in front. I haven't yet seen my schools, but I know that it takes between twenty-five and forty-five minutes to pedal to my different schools. I'm going to get a lot of exercise.
Mia is doing pretty well, though yesterday she started needing to be held all the time. She gets very upset if she's not lying up against our chest. When she is up against us, she sleeps. Before that, she really liked to sit vertically and just look around. So far we haven't taken a lot of pictures. I bought batteries for our camera, but they weren't even strong enough to keep the camera on for more than 2 seconds. I turned it on, the lens extended, and then the digital display flashed "battery depleted" and it shut off. We got some new batteries yesterday and took a few pictures. Mia wasn't in a picture-taking mood, so I snapped some of Kelsey. Those are the ones that we posted to facebook and Stef's blog.
At Mia's discharge meeting with the doctors, they showed us pictures of her MRI. They said that her left cerebral ventricle is a little larger than the right one, but that it wasn't really anything to worry about. She might experience some difficulty with motor skills, but most of the time, there aren't any problems. We'll be keeping an eye out for the first few years. Everything seems normal so far.
Stef has been getting between five and six hours of broken sleep every night, which is much better than when Kelsey was a newborn. I've been getting about 7 hours of broken sleep. So we're dealing with everything pretty well. It's a lot easier when you're sleeping.
Our place is pretty cozy. It's old and has sparkly corkboard walls and tatami floors, but it feels like home. Kelsey has her own room, we have a small living room with a couch, and we have a bigger kitchen. The fridge was much too small, so we had to buy another small one in order to have enough room for all our food. At Hard-Off (I kid you not), a second-hand shop that sells everything from video games to couches, we found a practically brand new fridge for $150. We also found a baby bath for about eight bucks. To keep Kelsey out of the fridge, we got some locking plastic belt-clips.
Even if our place in Uoshima was slightly larger, this place is much more convenient. We have a big shopping complex called Saty that's five minutes away on foot. Inside the three floor building, there's a nice 100 yen shop, a play area, a nice grocery store with great prices, an arcade, a clothing store, and much more. Within a half-mile or so of our apartment, we've got two or three other grocery stores, a full-size 100 yen shop, a two-story electronics store, Hard-Off, a video rental store, and a full-size McDonald's that serves breakfast.
We're looking forward to things getting back to normal, so we won't be tempted to go to McDonald's. It's hard sometimes to ignore the convenience. And Kelsey loves chicken nuggets. Back in Matsuyama, I took her to McDonald's and got her some nuggets. Stef also took her a few times during her grocery shopping trips. One time, she told Kelsey that she had to get money from the ATM, and then they'd go buy some nuggets. When we tell Kelsey that she's going to get to eat nuggets, she shouts, "Mommy get da money, Kelsey eat nunnets!" The other day, I mentioned that I had to get some money for the next day, and Kelsey Pavlovianly chirped, "Nunnets!" Awesome.
Kelsey's being a good big sister. She's occasionally too rough when she wants to hold or kiss Mia, so we have to keep a close eye on her.
We won't have internet access at home until the 23rd or so. I can walk out into the neighborhood an pick up an unsecured wireless network, which is enough to check e-mail and post to the blog. Last night, I was walking around with the laptop in my hand like a waiter holding a tray, watching the top of the screen to see how strong the connection was, when I walked across the street. Suddenly, I didn't feel the ground under me--I had stepped into the meter-deep gutter. I knew it wouldn't end well, so I tried to protect the computer. It flew up into the air and landed upside-down on my neck, and I grabbed it before it could fall off. I bruised my left leg just above the knee, but was lucky to not have suffered worse.
Things are great here, but I wouldn't recommend walking into meter-deep ditches.
Today, I saw exactly how bad it was. Kelsey drew on her hands and face, and then stuffed eight felt-tipped markers inside her footed pajamas. She had a leaky diaper, and the combination of liquid, ink, and rolling around at night covered her whole body and pajamas in permanent ink. After an hour-and-a-half of scrubbing, she's still got ink all over. At least it's light enough that it shouldn't transfer to other things. And I got most of it off her face.
What a little stinker.
So, as I said before, Mia's home, and we're living in Imabari, where we used to go to church every week before Mia came early. I got transferred early, and I start work here on Monday. It's the beginning of a new school term, so a lot of the teachers will be new. In Japan, government employees transfer to new positions in new places after three years or so. People often have to work away from their families, and some even have to live on islands during the week and travel to see their families on weekends. Most just have to commute every day.
I have five schools that I visit--three elementary schools and two junior high schools. My main mode of transportation is a small ladies' bike with a basket in front. I haven't yet seen my schools, but I know that it takes between twenty-five and forty-five minutes to pedal to my different schools. I'm going to get a lot of exercise.
Mia is doing pretty well, though yesterday she started needing to be held all the time. She gets very upset if she's not lying up against our chest. When she is up against us, she sleeps. Before that, she really liked to sit vertically and just look around. So far we haven't taken a lot of pictures. I bought batteries for our camera, but they weren't even strong enough to keep the camera on for more than 2 seconds. I turned it on, the lens extended, and then the digital display flashed "battery depleted" and it shut off. We got some new batteries yesterday and took a few pictures. Mia wasn't in a picture-taking mood, so I snapped some of Kelsey. Those are the ones that we posted to facebook and Stef's blog.
At Mia's discharge meeting with the doctors, they showed us pictures of her MRI. They said that her left cerebral ventricle is a little larger than the right one, but that it wasn't really anything to worry about. She might experience some difficulty with motor skills, but most of the time, there aren't any problems. We'll be keeping an eye out for the first few years. Everything seems normal so far.
Stef has been getting between five and six hours of broken sleep every night, which is much better than when Kelsey was a newborn. I've been getting about 7 hours of broken sleep. So we're dealing with everything pretty well. It's a lot easier when you're sleeping.
Our place is pretty cozy. It's old and has sparkly corkboard walls and tatami floors, but it feels like home. Kelsey has her own room, we have a small living room with a couch, and we have a bigger kitchen. The fridge was much too small, so we had to buy another small one in order to have enough room for all our food. At Hard-Off (I kid you not), a second-hand shop that sells everything from video games to couches, we found a practically brand new fridge for $150. We also found a baby bath for about eight bucks. To keep Kelsey out of the fridge, we got some locking plastic belt-clips.
Even if our place in Uoshima was slightly larger, this place is much more convenient. We have a big shopping complex called Saty that's five minutes away on foot. Inside the three floor building, there's a nice 100 yen shop, a play area, a nice grocery store with great prices, an arcade, a clothing store, and much more. Within a half-mile or so of our apartment, we've got two or three other grocery stores, a full-size 100 yen shop, a two-story electronics store, Hard-Off, a video rental store, and a full-size McDonald's that serves breakfast.
We're looking forward to things getting back to normal, so we won't be tempted to go to McDonald's. It's hard sometimes to ignore the convenience. And Kelsey loves chicken nuggets. Back in Matsuyama, I took her to McDonald's and got her some nuggets. Stef also took her a few times during her grocery shopping trips. One time, she told Kelsey that she had to get money from the ATM, and then they'd go buy some nuggets. When we tell Kelsey that she's going to get to eat nuggets, she shouts, "Mommy get da money, Kelsey eat nunnets!" The other day, I mentioned that I had to get some money for the next day, and Kelsey Pavlovianly chirped, "Nunnets!" Awesome.
Kelsey's being a good big sister. She's occasionally too rough when she wants to hold or kiss Mia, so we have to keep a close eye on her.
We won't have internet access at home until the 23rd or so. I can walk out into the neighborhood an pick up an unsecured wireless network, which is enough to check e-mail and post to the blog. Last night, I was walking around with the laptop in my hand like a waiter holding a tray, watching the top of the screen to see how strong the connection was, when I walked across the street. Suddenly, I didn't feel the ground under me--I had stepped into the meter-deep gutter. I knew it wouldn't end well, so I tried to protect the computer. It flew up into the air and landed upside-down on my neck, and I grabbed it before it could fall off. I bruised my left leg just above the knee, but was lucky to not have suffered worse.
Things are great here, but I wouldn't recommend walking into meter-deep ditches.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Japan-US Relations
I don't know why I let the differences between Japan and America get to me, but I do. This past weekend, our cell phone service got shut off. When I signed the contract, I asked how I could pay my bill. They asked for my postal bank account number and told me that the bill would automatically come out of my account each month. What they failed to tell me was that automatic payments take two months to establish in Japan.
Up until three days ago, I hadn't received any kind of bill or notice of payment. Every time I checked my account statement, I wondered why the money hadn't yet come out. Three days ago, I got January's bill in the mail. The next day, my service was shut off. When I contacted the phone company today, they agreed to turn on my cell phone service and apologized for any confusion.
I asked about December's bill and wondered why it never came. The bills come pre-printed with the amount paid, so you can't pay two months' bills at a time. They told me that they sent December's bill two weeks ago, and that I had before the end of month to pay or they'd shut the phones off again. I went to the post office to pay January's bill, with the hope that I could pay December's as well. No such luck.
Here in Japan, you have to have a physical copy of a bill if you want to pay it. There is no online bill pay. There is no option to pay by phone with a debit or credit card. You can set up automatic payment from an account, but you have to fill out forms (without making any mistakes). When I asked the post office clerk to help me, we ended up on the phone again with the phone company, verifying exactly what they had already told me. They're resending the bill that never came so that I can have a physical copy to take into an office to pay.
I've always paid my bills early. If I pay them while I still have money, I don't have to worry about not being able to pay my bills later. It's so frustrating that I have to wait weeks or months just to give them money. It's archaic and it's arcane. It's archanic. I just want to pay my bill! The problem is, most people here don't ask questions. They just pay. They fill out the paperwork, wait in the lines, go through the motions, and never demand that things be made easier or more user-friendly. On one hand, I understand that I need to develop more patience for these sorts of things. On the other hand, I wonder why I should have to develop patience for something as trivial as paying a bill. Don't I have more important things to worry about?
When we set up the apartment in Matsuyama, the church helped pay for the rent. We said that we were willing to pay a certain amount, so they told us to transfer the money whenever we could. We now are able to make that transfer, but they won't let me! I called the Branch President, and he said not to worry about it until April. The problem is, the only way I won't stress about outstanding debts and bills is if they've been paid! Now, we'll have an untouchable chunk of money in our account for six weeks, giving us a false sense of financial security. Why can't I just pay it now? Where else in the world would a debtor not be allowed to pay his debts? Consider my mind boggled. So, I'll try to put it out of my mind. But I won't rest easy until our debts are settled.
Mia's getting big--she's out of the incubator now. It's great to see her in her bassinet, without all the tubes and everything. She's up to 4 pounds now, and she's really starting to fill out. I think she looks a lot like Kelsey did when she was born, except that she seems to have lighter hair and blue eyes. We'll be excited if they stay blue.
Yesterday, they told us that she could start breast feeding, but that we had to go out and buy some sterilizing wipes. If they had given us any sort of heads-up, we could have been prepared. Instead, Stef had to fit one more stop into her already packed schedule. Stuff like that could easily be avoided if people were just more willing to communicate with us.
We're anticipating her release from the hospital in three weeks or so. We still don't know where we're going to live. We think we're taking Kitt's place, but nobody's been able to confirm anything. I have yet to be contacted by my new contracting organization. It'd be nice to know where we're going to live so that we can prepare the place. We're even willing to pay the full month's rent, even if we only live there for a week or two in March. From what I gather, I probably won't get a call until the day before I'm supposed to be there. Because moving obviously doesn't take time.
Most Japanese people seem to be unwilling to engage in any sort of speculation. Doctor Nagai said that the Japanese way is to only say what has been confirmed, so as to not create false expectations. In other words, they could lose face if they speculated on something and it turned out to be slightly different. When we inquired about the start date of breast feeding, the doctors tiptoed around our question. Instead of saying something like, "Once she's at a stable weight--say, 1800 grams--and is able to be moved from the incubator to a bassinet, we'll try", they said, "Once she's healthy enough." We don't need exact figures--just estimates that we can use to set realistic expectations and prepare for the future. I'm not going to sue you if things turn out differently. It's okay if they're not sure where they'll place me yet--just tell me that.
In addition to Adult English conversation classes, I've started teaching internet classes once a week. After fixing my boss' computer a couple weeks ago, I'm now seen as the computer whiz on the island. I admit it's a bit tough to motivate myself to help him now, since I've learned that my effort led to him having a computer that's fast enough to load adult web sites. Last week, for the first lesson, two 60-70 year old men came. They were more excited to read haiku and see pictures of themselves on the town website than anything else. That's a lot easier on my conscience than the stuff my boss wanted to look at. I was pretty stressed about the class at first, but it turned out to be pretty relaxed.
Kelsey's struggling with the long distance fathering. It breaks my heart to hear that she cries for me while I'm away, or that she looks for me when she wakes up, only to remember where I am and announce to the world, "Daddy's working. Island." I miss all my girls terribly. But there's only a few more weeks of this. It'll all be over soon.
Kelsey's getting a lot better at speaking. All the cute "one" words (water = wa-one, pillow = pih-one, towel = tow-one) now sound pretty close to how they should. She still says some things in a cute/wrong way, like fishy tatters (instead of fishy crackers). When we would arrive at the store, Jusco, Kelsey used to shout, "Home!" After telling her that Jusco is not home, but a store, she would shake her head and say, "Not home." We told her the store was called Jusco, and she now calls it "Jus-Home." But for the most part, her English is getting really good. When Stef leaves to see Mia, Kelsey says, "Mommy's seeing Mia. Kelsey's playing nurse." When Stef gets back, she says, "Mommy saw Mia." That's pretty advanced stuff.
I mentioned earlier that Kelsey comes up with her own plans, like when we tell her that she has to hold someone's hand and she elects to hold "Kelsey's hand." The other day, in an attempt to get Kelsey ready to go to the hospital, Stef gave her two options: we could take the bikes or take the stroller. Kelsey replied, "No. Take the bus." Her responses blow me away sometimes.
Life is good. We have our sources of stress, but truthfully, we feel pretty blessed. We were interviewed by a camera crew from NHK, the public broadcasting station in Japan that's famous for news coverage. They came to the hospital to ask us some questions about Mia's birth and our hospital experience. It's set to air March 10th. I'll get a copy and post it on YouTube for everyone to see.
Up until three days ago, I hadn't received any kind of bill or notice of payment. Every time I checked my account statement, I wondered why the money hadn't yet come out. Three days ago, I got January's bill in the mail. The next day, my service was shut off. When I contacted the phone company today, they agreed to turn on my cell phone service and apologized for any confusion.
I asked about December's bill and wondered why it never came. The bills come pre-printed with the amount paid, so you can't pay two months' bills at a time. They told me that they sent December's bill two weeks ago, and that I had before the end of month to pay or they'd shut the phones off again. I went to the post office to pay January's bill, with the hope that I could pay December's as well. No such luck.
Here in Japan, you have to have a physical copy of a bill if you want to pay it. There is no online bill pay. There is no option to pay by phone with a debit or credit card. You can set up automatic payment from an account, but you have to fill out forms (without making any mistakes). When I asked the post office clerk to help me, we ended up on the phone again with the phone company, verifying exactly what they had already told me. They're resending the bill that never came so that I can have a physical copy to take into an office to pay.
I've always paid my bills early. If I pay them while I still have money, I don't have to worry about not being able to pay my bills later. It's so frustrating that I have to wait weeks or months just to give them money. It's archaic and it's arcane. It's archanic. I just want to pay my bill! The problem is, most people here don't ask questions. They just pay. They fill out the paperwork, wait in the lines, go through the motions, and never demand that things be made easier or more user-friendly. On one hand, I understand that I need to develop more patience for these sorts of things. On the other hand, I wonder why I should have to develop patience for something as trivial as paying a bill. Don't I have more important things to worry about?
When we set up the apartment in Matsuyama, the church helped pay for the rent. We said that we were willing to pay a certain amount, so they told us to transfer the money whenever we could. We now are able to make that transfer, but they won't let me! I called the Branch President, and he said not to worry about it until April. The problem is, the only way I won't stress about outstanding debts and bills is if they've been paid! Now, we'll have an untouchable chunk of money in our account for six weeks, giving us a false sense of financial security. Why can't I just pay it now? Where else in the world would a debtor not be allowed to pay his debts? Consider my mind boggled. So, I'll try to put it out of my mind. But I won't rest easy until our debts are settled.
Mia's getting big--she's out of the incubator now. It's great to see her in her bassinet, without all the tubes and everything. She's up to 4 pounds now, and she's really starting to fill out. I think she looks a lot like Kelsey did when she was born, except that she seems to have lighter hair and blue eyes. We'll be excited if they stay blue.
Yesterday, they told us that she could start breast feeding, but that we had to go out and buy some sterilizing wipes. If they had given us any sort of heads-up, we could have been prepared. Instead, Stef had to fit one more stop into her already packed schedule. Stuff like that could easily be avoided if people were just more willing to communicate with us.
We're anticipating her release from the hospital in three weeks or so. We still don't know where we're going to live. We think we're taking Kitt's place, but nobody's been able to confirm anything. I have yet to be contacted by my new contracting organization. It'd be nice to know where we're going to live so that we can prepare the place. We're even willing to pay the full month's rent, even if we only live there for a week or two in March. From what I gather, I probably won't get a call until the day before I'm supposed to be there. Because moving obviously doesn't take time.
Most Japanese people seem to be unwilling to engage in any sort of speculation. Doctor Nagai said that the Japanese way is to only say what has been confirmed, so as to not create false expectations. In other words, they could lose face if they speculated on something and it turned out to be slightly different. When we inquired about the start date of breast feeding, the doctors tiptoed around our question. Instead of saying something like, "Once she's at a stable weight--say, 1800 grams--and is able to be moved from the incubator to a bassinet, we'll try", they said, "Once she's healthy enough." We don't need exact figures--just estimates that we can use to set realistic expectations and prepare for the future. I'm not going to sue you if things turn out differently. It's okay if they're not sure where they'll place me yet--just tell me that.
In addition to Adult English conversation classes, I've started teaching internet classes once a week. After fixing my boss' computer a couple weeks ago, I'm now seen as the computer whiz on the island. I admit it's a bit tough to motivate myself to help him now, since I've learned that my effort led to him having a computer that's fast enough to load adult web sites. Last week, for the first lesson, two 60-70 year old men came. They were more excited to read haiku and see pictures of themselves on the town website than anything else. That's a lot easier on my conscience than the stuff my boss wanted to look at. I was pretty stressed about the class at first, but it turned out to be pretty relaxed.
Kelsey's struggling with the long distance fathering. It breaks my heart to hear that she cries for me while I'm away, or that she looks for me when she wakes up, only to remember where I am and announce to the world, "Daddy's working. Island." I miss all my girls terribly. But there's only a few more weeks of this. It'll all be over soon.
Kelsey's getting a lot better at speaking. All the cute "one" words (water = wa-one, pillow = pih-one, towel = tow-one) now sound pretty close to how they should. She still says some things in a cute/wrong way, like fishy tatters (instead of fishy crackers). When we would arrive at the store, Jusco, Kelsey used to shout, "Home!" After telling her that Jusco is not home, but a store, she would shake her head and say, "Not home." We told her the store was called Jusco, and she now calls it "Jus-Home." But for the most part, her English is getting really good. When Stef leaves to see Mia, Kelsey says, "Mommy's seeing Mia. Kelsey's playing nurse." When Stef gets back, she says, "Mommy saw Mia." That's pretty advanced stuff.
I mentioned earlier that Kelsey comes up with her own plans, like when we tell her that she has to hold someone's hand and she elects to hold "Kelsey's hand." The other day, in an attempt to get Kelsey ready to go to the hospital, Stef gave her two options: we could take the bikes or take the stroller. Kelsey replied, "No. Take the bus." Her responses blow me away sometimes.
Life is good. We have our sources of stress, but truthfully, we feel pretty blessed. We were interviewed by a camera crew from NHK, the public broadcasting station in Japan that's famous for news coverage. They came to the hospital to ask us some questions about Mia's birth and our hospital experience. It's set to air March 10th. I'll get a copy and post it on YouTube for everyone to see.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Hisashiburi desu ne! It's been a while.
It's about time for another post. First, I want to update everyone on Mia's situation. Mia's got a hole in her heart which, while not life-threatening, requires her heart to work extra hard in order to pump blood through her body. Whenever she undergoes any kind of stress, her heart rate jumps up into uncomfortable levels. The hole might heal on its own, and it might not. If it doesn't, they may need to perform surgery when she's about 5 or 6 so that she doesn't have heart failure near the age of 30. It's nothing pressing, but we pray it will heal so she can have a healthy, normal life.
They are not yet sure if she'll need laser eye surgery to help the blood vessels expand to the outer edges of her eye. It might take care of itself.
The last time I checked, her weight was up to 1150 grams. That's about 2 1/2 pounds. We were looking forward to the 1600 gram mark, because we figured that we'd be able to start holding her around then. Stef has been anxious to start Kangaroo Care. Baby kangaroos are born quite underdeveloped. They continue their development outside the womb in the pouch, where they get to spend a lot of time skin-to-skin with their mothers. Premature babies are a lot stronger when they get to spend time skin-to-skin with mom. We were told that Mia had to be strong enough to breathe without the help of a respirator.
While she has been strong enough to breathe on her own for a while, her oxygen level in her blood would go down when they took her off the respirator. The nurses have been taking the respirator off for a half-hour at a time to see how she does. She's gotten better and better at keeping her heart rate normal and oxygen saturation levels above 90 (usually around 95) when she's off the respirator. We finally get to see her without a mask every once-in-a-while.
Yesterday, during Sunday School, I got a call from the hospital. I was a bit worried at first, but they were calling to let Stef know that she could start Kangaroo Care. I was so excited to tell her. So, Stef got to hold Mia up against her chest for the first time. For now, she can do that every day from 12:30 until 1. Once Mia's up to about 1600 grams (I believe), she should be strong enough to stay out of the incubator without little electrodes on her back and foot. She's doing very well. We're so grateful for all the prayers on her behalf.
Life has been a whirlwind since Mia was born. I've had piles of forms to fill out and countless meetings with doctors and town hall workers. Every few weeks we meet with my supervisor, the doctors, and a translator from the prefectural office. At first, I was a bit wary of having the prefectural translators help out. After all, the church members had been helpful enough, and the translators might have contributed to us getting kicked out of Grant and Etta's apartment. One of the translators, Murakami-san, was very kind and understanding of our situation, so we decided to go ahead and have him translate for us. That turned out to be a fantastic decision.
Right now, I work during the week and make the 4-5 hour journey to Matsuyama every Friday night to be with Stef and Kelsey. My board of education has shuffled my schedule so that I can work Tuesday through Friday and be with the fam until Monday afternoon. My mom's been with Stef for about 3 weeks, and that's lightened Stef's load considerably on the days I'm not there. We still miss each other terribly, but at least she's got someone to keep her company during the week. Mom goes home in a little over a week, so things are going to get a bit tougher for Stef.
Before Mia was born, we visited Kitt, one of the JETs in Imabari (where we went to church before we moved to Matsuyama). We commented on how convenient it was and how much easier life would be if we were there. Stefanie and I were very worried about bringing Mia back to Uoshima. Since Uoshima is so scarily inconvenient for newborns, we were considering moving Stef, Mia, and Kelsey to Imabari after Mia gets released from the hospital. I would go to Imabari on weekends after working in Uoshima all week. In the meantime, we'd see about getting transferred to a place with a hospital. The JET Program is usually pretty strict about transfers. It's difficult to get a transfer, and we'd have to wait until the end of July to do so. We were gearing up for some pretty difficult times the next few months.
Then Murakami-san mentioned something. He asked us if we were considering a transfer. We told him that we wanted to be closer to a hospital, but that we had heard about JET's strict transfer policy. We asked if it was possible, and he said that transfers were approved in extreme cases, and that he was the one in charge of transfers in Ehime. We told him that we'd love him to pursue a transfer, if possible. He said that he couldn't promise anything, and would get back to us when he knew for sure.
Stef and I went on with life, praying that things would work out. One day, one of my JET friends sent me an instant message, mentioning Kitt wasn't renewing her contract. When I e-mailed Kitt to find out why, she told me that she was leaving right away. Even though I felt bad that her Japan experience didn't work out, I was excited about an opening for next year in Imabari.
Then, one day, my boss asked me if I would be willing to move to Imabari in April if the opportunity presented itself. Murakami-san had contacted my boss and asked if I would be willing to take Kitt's spot. I obviously approved of the move, but they told me not to get my hopes up. Uoshima paid a lot of money for me to come there, and it wasn't likely that they'd just let me go. It also wasn't a given that Imabari would take me. I mentioned all this to Kitt, and she told me that she suspected that something was up. Her boss was okay with her leaving mid-year, which is almost unheard of. I got excited. But weeks passed, and every time I asked my boss for more information, he told me that he hadn't heard anything and that it was bad to speculate.
We set up a meeting with the doctors, Murakami-san, and my boss, to discuss Mia's health. After going through the details of Mia's health, the doctors left and we had some time to ask Murakami-san some questions. Stef expressed her concern about having to care for Mia and Kelsey on Uoshima, and asked Murakami-san if he had heard anything about our transfer. He said that they were currently monitoring the surrounding areas for openings, and that they would let us know if anything came up. He asked if we had a preference between Imabari and Matsuyama. We mentioned that we had been told that it was bad to specify a preference, and he asked us, unofficially, what our preference was. I suspected that they were already trying to set something up with Imabari, so I mentioned that we'd prefer to go there, since we know people and rent is cheaper. After that, he didn't mention Matsuyama again. But he had plenty of questions about us living in Imabari. It was clear that, while he couldn't tell us anything until it was official, they were trying to move us there.
This past week, I had a JET seminar in Matsuyama with other JETs and a handful of native Japanese teachers from all over Ehime. During one of the workshops, a Japanese man came up to me and asked me if I was the one that was going to move to Imabari and start working at his school. When I said that I hadn't heard anything official, he backpedaled. Realizing he shouldn't have said anything, he said that he hoped that it would work out, and said that it was just between the two of us. Finally, unofficial confirmation! Or so I thought.
I called my boss and mentioned the run-in, and asked if he'd heard anything. He scolded me for talking about it, and said that he still hadn't heard anything. A few days later, my boss called to tell me that both boards of education had approved the transfer and that I would transfer in April, not July. The Japanese school year starts in April and goes until March. I'll finish out the school year here in Uoshima, and then we'll move to Imabari. We think we'll be taking Kitt's place in her apartment, but we're not yet sure.
We're very excited. Even though rent's more expensive in Imabari than in Uoshima, we won't have to spend 400 bucks a month on travel for church. Stef will have a lot more things to do with Kelsey and Mia, and we'll be closer to a hospital. We can't help but thank God for the way He's taken care of us through all this. We find it strangely coincidental that Kitt is leaving now, and that she happens to live in a place where we openly longed to live. Things will still be tough for the next couple months, but we're so hopeful for the future and what it brings.
Kelsey is really starting to become a handful. She is incredibly bold (to the point of our heads a-sploding). She doesn't listen to us all the time, and can throw a tantrum with the best of them. But she's also really cute. When we're walking with her and want to keep her close, we ask her to hold either Mommy's hand or Daddy's hand. She puts one hand over the other and says, "Kelsey's hand." She likes to announce to the world what's going on around her. For example, when Stef starts pumping milk, Kelsey shouts, "Mommy! Pumping!" And just in case we didn't know, she adds, "Kelsey! No pumping! Daddy! No pumping! Gamma! No pumping!" When Stef finishes pumping, it's, "Mommy! All done! Pumping!" Grandma says that she's going to be an announcer when she grows up. I figure she'll be a sportscaster for weight lifting competitions--"Krzyzvsky! All done! Pumping! Iron!"
To finish up, here's a little video of her in Stef's boots.
They are not yet sure if she'll need laser eye surgery to help the blood vessels expand to the outer edges of her eye. It might take care of itself.
The last time I checked, her weight was up to 1150 grams. That's about 2 1/2 pounds. We were looking forward to the 1600 gram mark, because we figured that we'd be able to start holding her around then. Stef has been anxious to start Kangaroo Care. Baby kangaroos are born quite underdeveloped. They continue their development outside the womb in the pouch, where they get to spend a lot of time skin-to-skin with their mothers. Premature babies are a lot stronger when they get to spend time skin-to-skin with mom. We were told that Mia had to be strong enough to breathe without the help of a respirator.
While she has been strong enough to breathe on her own for a while, her oxygen level in her blood would go down when they took her off the respirator. The nurses have been taking the respirator off for a half-hour at a time to see how she does. She's gotten better and better at keeping her heart rate normal and oxygen saturation levels above 90 (usually around 95) when she's off the respirator. We finally get to see her without a mask every once-in-a-while.
Yesterday, during Sunday School, I got a call from the hospital. I was a bit worried at first, but they were calling to let Stef know that she could start Kangaroo Care. I was so excited to tell her. So, Stef got to hold Mia up against her chest for the first time. For now, she can do that every day from 12:30 until 1. Once Mia's up to about 1600 grams (I believe), she should be strong enough to stay out of the incubator without little electrodes on her back and foot. She's doing very well. We're so grateful for all the prayers on her behalf.
Life has been a whirlwind since Mia was born. I've had piles of forms to fill out and countless meetings with doctors and town hall workers. Every few weeks we meet with my supervisor, the doctors, and a translator from the prefectural office. At first, I was a bit wary of having the prefectural translators help out. After all, the church members had been helpful enough, and the translators might have contributed to us getting kicked out of Grant and Etta's apartment. One of the translators, Murakami-san, was very kind and understanding of our situation, so we decided to go ahead and have him translate for us. That turned out to be a fantastic decision.
Right now, I work during the week and make the 4-5 hour journey to Matsuyama every Friday night to be with Stef and Kelsey. My board of education has shuffled my schedule so that I can work Tuesday through Friday and be with the fam until Monday afternoon. My mom's been with Stef for about 3 weeks, and that's lightened Stef's load considerably on the days I'm not there. We still miss each other terribly, but at least she's got someone to keep her company during the week. Mom goes home in a little over a week, so things are going to get a bit tougher for Stef.
Before Mia was born, we visited Kitt, one of the JETs in Imabari (where we went to church before we moved to Matsuyama). We commented on how convenient it was and how much easier life would be if we were there. Stefanie and I were very worried about bringing Mia back to Uoshima. Since Uoshima is so scarily inconvenient for newborns, we were considering moving Stef, Mia, and Kelsey to Imabari after Mia gets released from the hospital. I would go to Imabari on weekends after working in Uoshima all week. In the meantime, we'd see about getting transferred to a place with a hospital. The JET Program is usually pretty strict about transfers. It's difficult to get a transfer, and we'd have to wait until the end of July to do so. We were gearing up for some pretty difficult times the next few months.
Then Murakami-san mentioned something. He asked us if we were considering a transfer. We told him that we wanted to be closer to a hospital, but that we had heard about JET's strict transfer policy. We asked if it was possible, and he said that transfers were approved in extreme cases, and that he was the one in charge of transfers in Ehime. We told him that we'd love him to pursue a transfer, if possible. He said that he couldn't promise anything, and would get back to us when he knew for sure.
Stef and I went on with life, praying that things would work out. One day, one of my JET friends sent me an instant message, mentioning Kitt wasn't renewing her contract. When I e-mailed Kitt to find out why, she told me that she was leaving right away. Even though I felt bad that her Japan experience didn't work out, I was excited about an opening for next year in Imabari.
Then, one day, my boss asked me if I would be willing to move to Imabari in April if the opportunity presented itself. Murakami-san had contacted my boss and asked if I would be willing to take Kitt's spot. I obviously approved of the move, but they told me not to get my hopes up. Uoshima paid a lot of money for me to come there, and it wasn't likely that they'd just let me go. It also wasn't a given that Imabari would take me. I mentioned all this to Kitt, and she told me that she suspected that something was up. Her boss was okay with her leaving mid-year, which is almost unheard of. I got excited. But weeks passed, and every time I asked my boss for more information, he told me that he hadn't heard anything and that it was bad to speculate.
We set up a meeting with the doctors, Murakami-san, and my boss, to discuss Mia's health. After going through the details of Mia's health, the doctors left and we had some time to ask Murakami-san some questions. Stef expressed her concern about having to care for Mia and Kelsey on Uoshima, and asked Murakami-san if he had heard anything about our transfer. He said that they were currently monitoring the surrounding areas for openings, and that they would let us know if anything came up. He asked if we had a preference between Imabari and Matsuyama. We mentioned that we had been told that it was bad to specify a preference, and he asked us, unofficially, what our preference was. I suspected that they were already trying to set something up with Imabari, so I mentioned that we'd prefer to go there, since we know people and rent is cheaper. After that, he didn't mention Matsuyama again. But he had plenty of questions about us living in Imabari. It was clear that, while he couldn't tell us anything until it was official, they were trying to move us there.
This past week, I had a JET seminar in Matsuyama with other JETs and a handful of native Japanese teachers from all over Ehime. During one of the workshops, a Japanese man came up to me and asked me if I was the one that was going to move to Imabari and start working at his school. When I said that I hadn't heard anything official, he backpedaled. Realizing he shouldn't have said anything, he said that he hoped that it would work out, and said that it was just between the two of us. Finally, unofficial confirmation! Or so I thought.
I called my boss and mentioned the run-in, and asked if he'd heard anything. He scolded me for talking about it, and said that he still hadn't heard anything. A few days later, my boss called to tell me that both boards of education had approved the transfer and that I would transfer in April, not July. The Japanese school year starts in April and goes until March. I'll finish out the school year here in Uoshima, and then we'll move to Imabari. We think we'll be taking Kitt's place in her apartment, but we're not yet sure.
We're very excited. Even though rent's more expensive in Imabari than in Uoshima, we won't have to spend 400 bucks a month on travel for church. Stef will have a lot more things to do with Kelsey and Mia, and we'll be closer to a hospital. We can't help but thank God for the way He's taken care of us through all this. We find it strangely coincidental that Kitt is leaving now, and that she happens to live in a place where we openly longed to live. Things will still be tough for the next couple months, but we're so hopeful for the future and what it brings.
Kelsey is really starting to become a handful. She is incredibly bold (to the point of our heads a-sploding). She doesn't listen to us all the time, and can throw a tantrum with the best of them. But she's also really cute. When we're walking with her and want to keep her close, we ask her to hold either Mommy's hand or Daddy's hand. She puts one hand over the other and says, "Kelsey's hand." She likes to announce to the world what's going on around her. For example, when Stef starts pumping milk, Kelsey shouts, "Mommy! Pumping!" And just in case we didn't know, she adds, "Kelsey! No pumping! Daddy! No pumping! Gamma! No pumping!" When Stef finishes pumping, it's, "Mommy! All done! Pumping!" Grandma says that she's going to be an announcer when she grows up. I figure she'll be a sportscaster for weight lifting competitions--"Krzyzvsky! All done! Pumping! Iron!"
To finish up, here's a little video of her in Stef's boots.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Blog posts? It's time for "nuh-one"
So, Kelsey's talking quite a bit now. She can say a ton of things: boat, movie, 'nanas, I love you, treat, poopoo, shoes, slide, drink, juice, bing (the sound the toaster makes), toast, running, me, you, yep, yes, no, no-no, choo-choo, Mommy, Daddy, blue, Nemo, cat, kitty, Mama's sleeping, and pretty much anything we ask her to say.
As a linguist, I'm fascinated by some of the things she says.
Backpack: It's hard to say the velar stop consonant /k/, and much harder to say it directly before moving to the bilabial stop /p/. Even though she can say "cat" and "kitty", she hasn't figured out how to produce the /k/ when it comes at the end of a syllable. She omits the first /k/, and turns the second /k/ into the closest voiceless stop consonant she can say at the end of a word: /t/. Kelsey loves her "bapat".
Kelsey likes to point at things and tell us what they are. For example, on the ferry ride, she points out the window at a passing freighter and says, "Boat!" If another boat passes, however, she'll say, "nuh-one!" If she wants another piece of chicken, she'll point to ours and say "nuh-one!" Every additional cat she sees after the first is a "nuh-one!" Her love of pointing out "another one" of everything she sees has subtly influenced some other words she says.
She hasn't yet figured out how to say /r/ or /l/, which is normal for her age. When 2+ syllable words end in either /r/ or /l/, she'll often pronounce it as an /n/. Pillow becomes /piwwone/ ('one' pronounced like the number), shower becomes /showone/, towel becomes /towone/. It's very cute.
Before Kelsey started talking a lot, she would follow Stef around with her arms up, wanting to be held. Stef would ask Kelsey, "Do you want me to hold you?" And Kelsey would say "Yep!" When Stef was cooking, Kelsey would beg for attention, putting her arms up and whining to be held. Stef, preparing the food, would say, "I can't hold you right now."
Kelsey heard "holdyou" as one word. Up until recently, when she wanted to be held, she'd walk up to Stef and say, "Holdyou! Holdyou!" While very cute, Stef and I wanted to make sure that she understood that she should say say "hold me!" instead. So, after a week or two of drilling it into her, she now says, "Holdyou..........me! Holdyou..........me!" She's very entertaining.
Kelsey now says "'scuse you!" when someone passes gas, including herself. It's very cute. I'm sure that, before long, after passing gas she'll say "'scuse you.........me!"
As a linguist, I'm fascinated by some of the things she says.
Backpack: It's hard to say the velar stop consonant /k/, and much harder to say it directly before moving to the bilabial stop /p/. Even though she can say "cat" and "kitty", she hasn't figured out how to produce the /k/ when it comes at the end of a syllable. She omits the first /k/, and turns the second /k/ into the closest voiceless stop consonant she can say at the end of a word: /t/. Kelsey loves her "bapat".
Kelsey likes to point at things and tell us what they are. For example, on the ferry ride, she points out the window at a passing freighter and says, "Boat!" If another boat passes, however, she'll say, "nuh-one!" If she wants another piece of chicken, she'll point to ours and say "nuh-one!" Every additional cat she sees after the first is a "nuh-one!" Her love of pointing out "another one" of everything she sees has subtly influenced some other words she says.
She hasn't yet figured out how to say /r/ or /l/, which is normal for her age. When 2+ syllable words end in either /r/ or /l/, she'll often pronounce it as an /n/. Pillow becomes /piwwone/ ('one' pronounced like the number), shower becomes /showone/, towel becomes /towone/. It's very cute.
Before Kelsey started talking a lot, she would follow Stef around with her arms up, wanting to be held. Stef would ask Kelsey, "Do you want me to hold you?" And Kelsey would say "Yep!" When Stef was cooking, Kelsey would beg for attention, putting her arms up and whining to be held. Stef, preparing the food, would say, "I can't hold you right now."
Kelsey heard "holdyou" as one word. Up until recently, when she wanted to be held, she'd walk up to Stef and say, "Holdyou! Holdyou!" While very cute, Stef and I wanted to make sure that she understood that she should say say "hold me!" instead. So, after a week or two of drilling it into her, she now says, "Holdyou..........me! Holdyou..........me!" She's very entertaining.
Kelsey now says "'scuse you!" when someone passes gas, including herself. It's very cute. I'm sure that, before long, after passing gas she'll say "'scuse you.........me!"
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Oh, what a night
Unicorns. All the video games in the world. The ability to fly. Hitler in a tutu singing theme songs of 80's sitcoms. These are the things that dreams are made of. Stef went to bed last night at at 7 after a tiring day. While she was dreaming of Almond Roca-paved streets, I was hunched over the computer, fervently typing code for a friend's website. After a grueling day spent verifying table cell widths and CSS properties, I was ready for dreamland at 10. But I didn't get to hit a home run in the bottom of the ninth, save the world from the jellyfish men or miss every three-point shot while my teeth fell out. Not at 10, anyway.
We're moving to a house in town that's got more rooms and more privacy. Yesterday, an electrician from another island came to our apartment to remove our air-conditioner and install it in the new house. No longer able to enjoy cool air in the apartment, we tried to compensate by spreading the hot air around with an oscillating fan. I tossed and turned from 10 until about 12, when I finally got on the escalator to dreamland. An escalator to nowhere!
I was awakened by the sound of Kelsey whimpering. Stef and I moved the porta-crib from Kelsey's room into ours, and she went back to bed--for a few seconds. Suddenly, she started groaning again. Stef got up and soothed her with a soft back rub. Every time Stef took her hand away, Kelsey cried. It wasn't clear if Kelsey was awake, but Stef thinks she might have had her first nightmare. I can see it now: dancing and twirling around in a land of plentiful toast, where the juice flows like water, and every wall and window is a TV with an endless loop of Finding Nemo. Without warning, the toast disappears. Water flows like water. Nemo runs away with another fish (..and his name was Lamar!).
Lucky for me, Stef was willing to help Kelsey through her rough night. I boarded the slow train to bliss and eventually made it there. As I enjoyed my bottomless rootbeer float in heaven, I started sinking into the clouds. The sky abruptly opened and I torpedoed back to Earth.
"Wake up!" Stef said. It's 7:45 and you have to leave for work in a half-hour. Crap. I felt like I could have slept for another hour. In a daze, I hurriedly showered, threw my clothes on, and wolfed down a bowl of corn flakes. I heard a ferry horn in the background, which was odd for that time. I thought that I had heard a coworker say yesterday that most people wouldn't be at work today. Maybe that horn was for some special kind of ferry, like one that had come during the week from another island. A half-hour later, I remembered that it was Thursday, and that I had to take the non-burnable trash to the trash plant. Three massive bags festered on our little back porch. The next day for non-burnables was next Tuesday. Tuesday was not an option.
I jumped into my shoes, gave Kelsey a kiss, loaded the trash bags onto a dolly, and started running to the trash center (which is in the opposite direction of the town hall, where I'm working). I tossed the bags into the disposal truck and walked briskly past the apartment, throwing the dolly against the fence as I passed. A few minutes later, as I neared the town hall, I glanced up at the town clock to see how late I was. Being late is much worse in Japan than in America. People really look down on you for it. It was :28 after, so I was looking okay. I turned the corner and walked through the automatic doors at the town hall, and greeted the only other person there. "Nobody's here today, eh?" I asked, assured that I had understood what my coworker said the day before. "Oh, they're all coming in today, my coworker said. At 8:30. It's 7:30 right now."
When I opened the unlocked door to our apartment, Stef jumped. I ignored her quizzical look and approached her. I pointed to the clock, my head tilted to the side and my eyes staring off into nothingness. "I'm so sorry!" Stef said. "I swear I thought it was an hour earlier!" So that's how she gets me to take out the garbage. John Wayne will just have to wait until tonight to twirl that red-licorice lasso while riding through the sky on a twinkie.
We're moving to a house in town that's got more rooms and more privacy. Yesterday, an electrician from another island came to our apartment to remove our air-conditioner and install it in the new house. No longer able to enjoy cool air in the apartment, we tried to compensate by spreading the hot air around with an oscillating fan. I tossed and turned from 10 until about 12, when I finally got on the escalator to dreamland. An escalator to nowhere!
I was awakened by the sound of Kelsey whimpering. Stef and I moved the porta-crib from Kelsey's room into ours, and she went back to bed--for a few seconds. Suddenly, she started groaning again. Stef got up and soothed her with a soft back rub. Every time Stef took her hand away, Kelsey cried. It wasn't clear if Kelsey was awake, but Stef thinks she might have had her first nightmare. I can see it now: dancing and twirling around in a land of plentiful toast, where the juice flows like water, and every wall and window is a TV with an endless loop of Finding Nemo. Without warning, the toast disappears. Water flows like water. Nemo runs away with another fish (..and his name was Lamar!).
Lucky for me, Stef was willing to help Kelsey through her rough night. I boarded the slow train to bliss and eventually made it there. As I enjoyed my bottomless rootbeer float in heaven, I started sinking into the clouds. The sky abruptly opened and I torpedoed back to Earth.
"Wake up!" Stef said. It's 7:45 and you have to leave for work in a half-hour. Crap. I felt like I could have slept for another hour. In a daze, I hurriedly showered, threw my clothes on, and wolfed down a bowl of corn flakes. I heard a ferry horn in the background, which was odd for that time. I thought that I had heard a coworker say yesterday that most people wouldn't be at work today. Maybe that horn was for some special kind of ferry, like one that had come during the week from another island. A half-hour later, I remembered that it was Thursday, and that I had to take the non-burnable trash to the trash plant. Three massive bags festered on our little back porch. The next day for non-burnables was next Tuesday. Tuesday was not an option.
I jumped into my shoes, gave Kelsey a kiss, loaded the trash bags onto a dolly, and started running to the trash center (which is in the opposite direction of the town hall, where I'm working). I tossed the bags into the disposal truck and walked briskly past the apartment, throwing the dolly against the fence as I passed. A few minutes later, as I neared the town hall, I glanced up at the town clock to see how late I was. Being late is much worse in Japan than in America. People really look down on you for it. It was :28 after, so I was looking okay. I turned the corner and walked through the automatic doors at the town hall, and greeted the only other person there. "Nobody's here today, eh?" I asked, assured that I had understood what my coworker said the day before. "Oh, they're all coming in today, my coworker said. At 8:30. It's 7:30 right now."
When I opened the unlocked door to our apartment, Stef jumped. I ignored her quizzical look and approached her. I pointed to the clock, my head tilted to the side and my eyes staring off into nothingness. "I'm so sorry!" Stef said. "I swear I thought it was an hour earlier!" So that's how she gets me to take out the garbage. John Wayne will just have to wait until tonight to twirl that red-licorice lasso while riding through the sky on a twinkie.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Projects
Stef and I have a few projects we're working on before we go to Japan. I'm typing out the journal entries that I originally sent to Christina so that I can get those back to her if she wants them. Also, we're converting our DVD collection into .avi files and keeping them on an external hard drive. It's a lot easier than lugging all those dvds in a case. Much lighter, too.
We're trying to figure out what we need to bring with us. As of now, all we can really think of is clothing, the Wii, and the laptop. We'll ship any books that we need separately. I may need to buy a bike and take it on the plane with me.
I'll be leaving for Japan on July 26th. Stef will follow me out with Kelsey on the 15th (or so) of August. We're going to drive (or fly, not sure yet) to California around the 6th or 7th of July, and I'll fly back on the 24th in preparation for the orientation in Salt Lake on the 25th. I'll arrive in Japan on the 27th and go to some orientation meetings for a few days. Then, the real adventure starts.
Stef and I have started studying Japanese together in preparation. It's very exciting to think that we'll be able to communicate with each other in another language. Kelsey will probably pick up a bit of Japanese, too.
Stef is going through the final preparations to become a labor doula. She's flying out to Colorado for a conference at the beginning of May. She'll take the classes she needs, and then return to Utah to participate in a few births. She's already go some possible clients after setting up an ad on Craigslist. That's exciting for her. She's hoping to do a little bit of that while in Japan.
We're trying to figure out what we need to bring with us. As of now, all we can really think of is clothing, the Wii, and the laptop. We'll ship any books that we need separately. I may need to buy a bike and take it on the plane with me.
I'll be leaving for Japan on July 26th. Stef will follow me out with Kelsey on the 15th (or so) of August. We're going to drive (or fly, not sure yet) to California around the 6th or 7th of July, and I'll fly back on the 24th in preparation for the orientation in Salt Lake on the 25th. I'll arrive in Japan on the 27th and go to some orientation meetings for a few days. Then, the real adventure starts.
Stef and I have started studying Japanese together in preparation. It's very exciting to think that we'll be able to communicate with each other in another language. Kelsey will probably pick up a bit of Japanese, too.
Stef is going through the final preparations to become a labor doula. She's flying out to Colorado for a conference at the beginning of May. She'll take the classes she needs, and then return to Utah to participate in a few births. She's already go some possible clients after setting up an ad on Craigslist. That's exciting for her. She's hoping to do a little bit of that while in Japan.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Easter
So, it's Easter Sunday. We had Em and the Simmons over for dinner and Easter eggs. Stef made a delicious pot roast and angel food cake, and the Simmons brought salad. Kelsey had a good time searching for eggs in the grass. I'll post some pictures somewhere.
We had our tournament game for intramural basketball. I use the singular as we obviously lost. We played them just fine until we got tired. With only five of us to their nine or ten, we couldn't keep up. No substitutions at all. We got pounded, and they weren't even good. My 18 or 20 points were little consolation.
I think I'm gonna play basketball tomorrow morning at 6 AM. Time to hang out with Stef.
We had our tournament game for intramural basketball. I use the singular as we obviously lost. We played them just fine until we got tired. With only five of us to their nine or ten, we couldn't keep up. No substitutions at all. We got pounded, and they weren't even good. My 18 or 20 points were little consolation.
I think I'm gonna play basketball tomorrow morning at 6 AM. Time to hang out with Stef.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
good.
Tonight we had our final regular season intramural basketball game. As we sat and waited for the previous game to end, our opponents walked in. It was a group of kids that we had played one weeknight at the church building a month or so ago. When we saw them, we knew it'd be a win for us. They're a good bunch of kids, but they were severely lacking height. When we played them at the chapel, we beat them 21-2. Scott Gale and I played post, and it worked beautifully. The floor was open for people to cut to the hoop, and nobody could really stop us from scoring.
That's not entirely true. I got fouled almost every time I tried to score from closed, but there wasn't a single call. On one shot, I had a guy hanging on my arm to the point that I couldn't even get the shot off right, and there was no call. On another one, I actually got hit so hard in the head that I bled for a little. Still no call. I realize that I shouldn't be frustrated when we're winning by 20 points, but when the other team is saying sorry for fouling you and telling the refs that they were wrong, something's wrong with the refs. It was great to see everyone have fun. Everybody played pretty well; Tony even hit a 3.
The final score was 60-49, which seems a lot closer than it really was. Before that, we had built and maintained a 20-plus point lead for the whole game. Gale scored quite a bit but went down with an injury halfway through the second half. Ryan distributed the ball pretty well, and Lance cut to the hoop a few times. I got a bit frustrated with the no-calls and took a couple shots that I shouldn't have taken. In the end I had a good game: 22 points, 5ish assists, probably over 10 rebounds, and 4-5 blocks. I was probably about 4-8 from the arc (I didn't keep track of the misses; maybe I was 4-9), and 5-12 from the rest of the floor. I didn't turn the ball over once, which is the stat I'm most proud of. Oh, and Ryan and I ran the "set play" twice, where he dribbles to the top of the key while I run around him and he pops the ball out while setting a screen. I made it both times, and the second one was a high, deep three (it felt like 30 feet or so).
I enjoyed making more passes tonight. It would've been a perfect game if I had just spent a little less time complaining about the lack of calls. I seriously think the refs didn't call them because I was piping up the whole time. Playoffs start soon. I think we'll have a game every couple nights until we lose.
Kelsey was being really cute tonight, too. For some reason, she really wanted to hold my hand. I walked with her as she held my finger until we had gotten about halfway down the hall. Then Stef picked her up, but she got really fussy and held her hand out towards me. I gave her my finger and she held on, instantly cheering up. Stef and I walked to the car, Stef holding Kelsey and Kelsey holding my finger. When we got to the car, Stef strapped her in and she got fussy. So, I drove home from the game with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand in Kelsey's hand, keeping her happy.
It's heart-warming to have her be so attached to me. She's not normally like that. Ooh, it's late--time for bed.
That's not entirely true. I got fouled almost every time I tried to score from closed, but there wasn't a single call. On one shot, I had a guy hanging on my arm to the point that I couldn't even get the shot off right, and there was no call. On another one, I actually got hit so hard in the head that I bled for a little. Still no call. I realize that I shouldn't be frustrated when we're winning by 20 points, but when the other team is saying sorry for fouling you and telling the refs that they were wrong, something's wrong with the refs. It was great to see everyone have fun. Everybody played pretty well; Tony even hit a 3.
The final score was 60-49, which seems a lot closer than it really was. Before that, we had built and maintained a 20-plus point lead for the whole game. Gale scored quite a bit but went down with an injury halfway through the second half. Ryan distributed the ball pretty well, and Lance cut to the hoop a few times. I got a bit frustrated with the no-calls and took a couple shots that I shouldn't have taken. In the end I had a good game: 22 points, 5ish assists, probably over 10 rebounds, and 4-5 blocks. I was probably about 4-8 from the arc (I didn't keep track of the misses; maybe I was 4-9), and 5-12 from the rest of the floor. I didn't turn the ball over once, which is the stat I'm most proud of. Oh, and Ryan and I ran the "set play" twice, where he dribbles to the top of the key while I run around him and he pops the ball out while setting a screen. I made it both times, and the second one was a high, deep three (it felt like 30 feet or so).
I enjoyed making more passes tonight. It would've been a perfect game if I had just spent a little less time complaining about the lack of calls. I seriously think the refs didn't call them because I was piping up the whole time. Playoffs start soon. I think we'll have a game every couple nights until we lose.
Kelsey was being really cute tonight, too. For some reason, she really wanted to hold my hand. I walked with her as she held my finger until we had gotten about halfway down the hall. Then Stef picked her up, but she got really fussy and held her hand out towards me. I gave her my finger and she held on, instantly cheering up. Stef and I walked to the car, Stef holding Kelsey and Kelsey holding my finger. When we got to the car, Stef strapped her in and she got fussy. So, I drove home from the game with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand in Kelsey's hand, keeping her happy.
It's heart-warming to have her be so attached to me. She's not normally like that. Ooh, it's late--time for bed.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Up all night
Kelsey had it rough last night. We put her in bed at about 9:30 or 10, and everything seemed all right. As Stef and I sat in bed we heard Kelsey whimper. She had coughed loudly a minute earlier, but we didn't think anything of it. Stef went in to check on Kelsey and walked up to her crib, the smell of vomit hitting her like a sack of horseshoes. Kelsey had thrown up all over herself and the bedding.
As Stef got Kelsey out of her pajamas, I prepared the bath. Tired, Kelsey shook and groaned while Stef put her in the tub and washed her up. She drank a little bit and started to look better, though still a little pale. Kelsey snuggled her head into my shoulder as I held and rocked her. Her temperature felt fine and she was alert, so Stef fed her a little and put her back down in her freshly made crib.
A bit later we awoke to the sound of Kelsey whimpering again. I reached down to pull her out of the crib and felt her soaked pajamas. Again we bathed her and changed her clothes. We didn't have any more clean bedding, so we put down some towels. Stef probed her mom for advice on the phone. This time, she was a little warm, but the thermometer said that her body temperature was close to normal. Hoping that she'd been through the worst of it, it was back to bed for Kelsey. I had a feeling that I should give Kelsey a blessing, but I pushed it aside and we included her in our nightly prayers.
Stef asked me to check on Kelsey during my nightly bathroom visit. When I woke up at 3 or so, Kelsey was once again making noise. Stef grabbed her while I was in the bathroom, and I went to check and see if she had thrown up again. The top towel had a small circle of vomit. We weren't sure what we would do. I helped with Kelsey while Stef again consulted with her sleeping mom. Diana told me that we should take her to the hospital if she got a fever or wouldn't keep any fluids down. By this time, Kelsey was seemingly cheery and wide-awake. I had a big day of studying ahead of me, so I had to get to sleep. I knelt down and said a prayer for Kelsey, hoping that she'd be okay. Stef took care of Kelsey while I tried to sleep, but soon Stef was in the bedroom waking me up. Kelsey had thrown up a couple more times, only this time Stef was holding her.
Stumbling out to the living room like a zombie, I struggled to remain patient. I didn't know if we should take her to the emergency room. I certainly didn't want to--not with a full day of study ahead of me. As I thought about giving Kelsey a priesthood blessing, Stef suggested that we do so. I placed my hands on her head and gave her a short blessing of health. Even though I doubted that she knew what was going on, I had faith that she'd get better. I plopped back into bed and fell asleep.
At 9 in the morning I woke up to the sound of Kelsey. I scooped the out of the crib and looked for signs of sickness. Everything seemed fine. However, I wasn't sure if I had slept through a rough rest of the night for mom and baby. Stef soon got up and I asked her if she slept at all. After the blessing, Kelsey didn't throw up at all. She was able to fall asleep, and Stef was able to get a good chunk of rest as well.
I feel a little guilty for not following the promptings I got earlier. I wonder if she suffered because of my reluctance. However, I still feel very grateful that she is okay and that both Stef and I were able to sleep.
As Stef got Kelsey out of her pajamas, I prepared the bath. Tired, Kelsey shook and groaned while Stef put her in the tub and washed her up. She drank a little bit and started to look better, though still a little pale. Kelsey snuggled her head into my shoulder as I held and rocked her. Her temperature felt fine and she was alert, so Stef fed her a little and put her back down in her freshly made crib.
A bit later we awoke to the sound of Kelsey whimpering again. I reached down to pull her out of the crib and felt her soaked pajamas. Again we bathed her and changed her clothes. We didn't have any more clean bedding, so we put down some towels. Stef probed her mom for advice on the phone. This time, she was a little warm, but the thermometer said that her body temperature was close to normal. Hoping that she'd been through the worst of it, it was back to bed for Kelsey. I had a feeling that I should give Kelsey a blessing, but I pushed it aside and we included her in our nightly prayers.
Stef asked me to check on Kelsey during my nightly bathroom visit. When I woke up at 3 or so, Kelsey was once again making noise. Stef grabbed her while I was in the bathroom, and I went to check and see if she had thrown up again. The top towel had a small circle of vomit. We weren't sure what we would do. I helped with Kelsey while Stef again consulted with her sleeping mom. Diana told me that we should take her to the hospital if she got a fever or wouldn't keep any fluids down. By this time, Kelsey was seemingly cheery and wide-awake. I had a big day of studying ahead of me, so I had to get to sleep. I knelt down and said a prayer for Kelsey, hoping that she'd be okay. Stef took care of Kelsey while I tried to sleep, but soon Stef was in the bedroom waking me up. Kelsey had thrown up a couple more times, only this time Stef was holding her.
Stumbling out to the living room like a zombie, I struggled to remain patient. I didn't know if we should take her to the emergency room. I certainly didn't want to--not with a full day of study ahead of me. As I thought about giving Kelsey a priesthood blessing, Stef suggested that we do so. I placed my hands on her head and gave her a short blessing of health. Even though I doubted that she knew what was going on, I had faith that she'd get better. I plopped back into bed and fell asleep.
At 9 in the morning I woke up to the sound of Kelsey. I scooped the out of the crib and looked for signs of sickness. Everything seemed fine. However, I wasn't sure if I had slept through a rough rest of the night for mom and baby. Stef soon got up and I asked her if she slept at all. After the blessing, Kelsey didn't throw up at all. She was able to fall asleep, and Stef was able to get a good chunk of rest as well.
I feel a little guilty for not following the promptings I got earlier. I wonder if she suffered because of my reluctance. However, I still feel very grateful that she is okay and that both Stef and I were able to sleep.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Back!
We're back from California, and it's cold! They mentioned on the plane that it was 28 degrees, and when we stepped outside, it really hit us. There was a bit of snow on the ground in some parts, but for the most part it was just cold. We went to bed on Friday, and when we woke up, the whole town was covered in snow. It's freezing!
This is Kelsey's first real experience with the snow. It was cold and snowy when she was born, but she didn't go outside for a couple of months. She seems to react fine to the cold, but she hasn't yet gotten snow in her hands.
Finals are coming up soon, so I'm going to disappear for a couple of weeks. I'm so excited for the semester to end and for Christmas to come. We had a blast spending time with family in California and look forward to seeing everybody again soon. While we were out there, Dad gave us the laptop that I'm typing this on. It has some issues with an intermittent display, but I've made a temporary fix.
Time to watch the Christmas devotional!
This is Kelsey's first real experience with the snow. It was cold and snowy when she was born, but she didn't go outside for a couple of months. She seems to react fine to the cold, but she hasn't yet gotten snow in her hands.
Finals are coming up soon, so I'm going to disappear for a couple of weeks. I'm so excited for the semester to end and for Christmas to come. We had a blast spending time with family in California and look forward to seeing everybody again soon. While we were out there, Dad gave us the laptop that I'm typing this on. It has some issues with an intermittent display, but I've made a temporary fix.
Time to watch the Christmas devotional!
Monday, October 8, 2007
I blog
Actually, I don't blog. Maybe I should; it'd give me something to do during downtime at work. We have a space up for pictures of Kelsey at http://jessenstef.spaces.live.com/.
I have nothing to do now that the real baseball season is over. Yeah, the playoffs are going on, but the A's didn't make it. Nothing else matters. There's always next year. And at least the the Angels Angels of Anaheim got swept.
Scott's a movie star now. He went over to Korea to find acting work and make a name for himself. Apparently, he starred in an independent suspense/horror movie called The Ceremony. I hope that when he gets famous he still remembers that Axel is better than Skate.
I have nothing to do now that the real baseball season is over. Yeah, the playoffs are going on, but the A's didn't make it. Nothing else matters. There's always next year. And at least the the Angels Angels of Anaheim got swept.
Scott's a movie star now. He went over to Korea to find acting work and make a name for himself. Apparently, he starred in an independent suspense/horror movie called The Ceremony. I hope that when he gets famous he still remembers that Axel is better than Skate.
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