Making a House a Home

I’ll be the first to admit it. I am a terrible decorator. I love it when I walk into someone’s house and everything is just so and they have cool art pieces and just the right accent wall, blah blah blah. I admire those homes and the artist who set it up that way with a sort of awe. How did they do that? How did they know which pieces to buy, where to put them, and what color to pick for their throw pillows? My sister knows how to do it; my mother is great at it…  I, however, fall short in this area. As it turns out, decorating is one of those skills that is important to help you settle in to your living quarters. The throw pillows and accent walls can make the difference between feeling at home and feeling like you are permanently staying in a hotel.

So, what is a less-than-artsy girl to do when she wants to make her apartment seem like less of a stay at the Hilton and more of a home? I tried my hand at art, pictures, area rugs, etc. but our apartment still lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Our apartment still seemed to fall short of our friends’ places that had seemed to capture the essence of “home”. After much soul searching, I think I finally found the answer: appliances.

As one who loves to eat and therefore must love to cook, I slowly came to the realization that no home of mine would be complete without my stand mixer given to me by my mother for our wedding. This spectacular treasure spent four tragic years collecting dust in our storage unit until this summer when I had enough sense to pull the ol’ girl out and ship her to Korea. I didn’t realize just how naked my counter was until this glorious piece of equipment graced the Formica in August. When I see pictures of our first two years in the apartment, I immediately notice the gaping Kitchenade-shaped hole near the sink. How had I survived for so long without it? That question will have to remain unanswered as I can only reflect on how my kitchen and my cookies will be forever changed by this home-making addition to our apartment.

As the year wore on, we started to realize that our apartment was still missing something; it wasn’t complete just yet. We pondered our dilemma for some time and finally found what our home was missing. This darling little domestic device was installed just last week:

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, a dishwasher. Admittedly we are still figuring this little beauty out as all of the instructions are in Korean and my once-a-week class hasn’t reached the “appliance instructions” chapter yet. At any rate, we have now re-entered the modern age of mechanical dish washing. It was a lovely four and a half years of soap suds and rubber gloves but it is time to move on.

And so, I have come to this conclusion. Should you come and visit a home of the Simpsons (be it in Seoul or somewhere else in the world), you may not have decorative pillows matching hand-knit afghans on the couch. There may not be special guest towels that were chosen to coordinate with the soap dish in the bathroom. But, in my home I can always promise you fluffy cakes and spotless dishes. Is that enough for you? For me, at least, these two details were enough to make our house a home.

Is It Spring Yet?

I’m not sure if you have had a chance to check your calendar, but we are in March already. March, people! How did this happen? I think that one of the reasons that I find this so hard to believe is that it is still unbelievably cold here. Now, I know that it is all relative. Sometimes we talk to our friends who moved here from the Philippines or India and shiver whenever the thermometer dips below 70°. Other times, we talk to friends who moved here from Moscow who haven’t pulled their winter coats out yet. Finding a sensible medium between the two, I am going to tell you that it is cold here and has been for a while.

I also recognize that you might be thinking, “Hey, man up. You are from Denver!” Yes, I know I was born and raised at the foot of the Rocky Mountains but a Colorado winter is quite different from a Korean one. While Denver does indeed deal with blizzards that bury highways and temperatures so low they make your water pipes freeze, Mother Nature frequently smiles upon Colorado and sprinkles sunny 60° days throughout the winter months. Seoul is different. In January, the average temperature was 27° and I can’t remember a day where the high was above freezing. February had a few days above 32°but not by much. Yes, I am used to cold. I know how to scrape ice off of a windshield and I make sure to dress in layers to maximize body heat insulation. But, I am also used to only having to apply those helpful tidbits on and off throughout Colorado’s unusually long “possible snow season”. I am used to expecting snow at Halloween and Easter (never Christmas) but I am also used to pulling out short sleeves in December.

So this whole eternal winter thing is kind of cramping my style. And, I know I am not the only one. All four of us seem to be suffering from a delusional cabin fever. We see the sun shining outside and, for some unknown reason, think that it must be a great day to take a walk. So, we say the magic word “Go” to the girls and they are off like shots to the front door ready to be released from their indoor prison. Not five minutes into our excursion, however, we are forced to succumb to nature as the girls bury their rosy cheeks and snotty noses into our shoulders to shield their faces from an icy wind.

But, I know that spring is around the corner. Well, maybe not around the corner but at least at the end of the block. On particularly cold and dreary days, I find myself wistfully flipping through last year’s pictures to find when we started spending extended periods outside or even wearing short sleeves. It has to warm up soon, right? Right?

Twins: The good, the bad, and the ugly

Well, it has been two years since the so-called “BOGOs” came into our lives and made us a family. Since then, we’ve seen a lot. I was tempted to say that we had seen it all but then I thought about things like school, homework, friends, and even *shudder* boyfriends. So I decided to stick with “a lot”. Twins are a different animal. We get a variety of responses when we tell people that we have twins. We get everything from the awe-struck “Wow, I don’t know how you survived!”, the inappropriate “Are they natural?”, the insensitive “Better you than me!”, to the connection making “I’m a twin!” or “I have twins!” No matter the comment, they almost always cause a reaction. So, I thought I would be real with you and give you the skinny on what it’s like to live with our toddling little phenomena.

Many times in an attempt to make an emotional connection, I’ve had moms tell me, “My kids are only ___ months/years apart. It was pretty much like having twins.” I’m going to let you in on a little secret: No, it wasn’t. There is no such thing as “pretty much” twins. Either they are twins, or they aren’t. Now, I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense at all. I honestly think that there are many things that are more difficult about having kids at two different ages than two at the same age. For me, when it is nap time, it is nap time. For both kids. I don’t have to worry about keeping one quiet so the other can sleep and I get a break at the same time every day. When they were infants, I only had one schedule to keep (and yes, I kept to it. Ask anyone who was around me for the first year of the twins’ lives).There are no “older child toys” and “younger child toys”. We don’t have to worry about the toddler being upset about the baby breaking a favorite doll or the baby swallowing a Lego meant for a toddler. Remember, I was only pregnant once, gave birth once, went through one infancy stage. Hence: BOGO (buy one get one free).

But, I’m not going to lie. There are things that are more difficult with twins. Breastfeeding. I think that is all that needs to be said on that topic. Soothing little babies when all they want is their mother’s full attention and it has to be divided between the two of them. Sometimes I look at new moms and I think to myself, “How is she looking so normal? How is she coping with this new little being so well? I was a MESS at this time!” I have to comfort myself with the thought that I had two and they were a double dose of game-changer. Or it is also quite possible that they just are coping better than I did... or at least hiding it better. Even now when I get home from work, all these two little girls want to do is to be held and played with and, frankly, all I want to do is hold them and play with them. But, I’m home at 4:00 and dinner is at 5:00 (yep, still a schedule freak).  So that means figuring out how to stir spaghetti noodles with no hands. I’ve figured out a few creative solutions but mostly I’ve come to the conclusion that this, just like infancy, is a phase that I need to embrace and that it will get easier.

On the other hand, there are some simply amazing things about twins. They will share a connection that will be impossible for me to understand. They will never remember life without the other. There is no greater gift to a parent than having your kids love each other. People often ask us if they fight and the answer is that yes, they do. I think that sibling rivalry is inevitable no matter what the age similarity/difference is. But they also love each other and enjoy being around each other. Even at this young age, they show empathy, “Uh-oh, sissy is sad!” or concern, “Oh no, sissy is in time out.” They frequently ask to hug and kiss each other, they dance together and hold hands. Just one interaction like that and any of the difficulty we’ve had with them that day melts away and we are once again enthralled with the miracle of these two little girls.

So, there you have it. Twins: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Just remember, unless you had twins, you didn’t have twins.

Our Year in Pictures

I think that we can all say that 2012, as it did not end up in a fiery zombie apocalypse, turned out alright. Here is our year in review:

January

February

March:

Meeting Mama C and Granddad in Taipei

April

May

June:

Alabama

July:

Colorado

August:

Back in Seoul

September:

Phuket, Thailand

October

November

December

Spending New Year's in Rome

What a great year! We can't wait to see what is in store in 2013!

Buon Natale!

My poor parents. They did such an amazing job raising us to be strong, independent people and how do we thank them? We flee the nest, taking full advantage of the gift of autonomy they bestowed upon us. I stole my husband away from America and brought him to Asia and my sister has recently been enjoying the marvels of Eastern Europe since moving to Albania with her husband in August. So, what is a family to do when separated by a couple of continents, several large bodies of water, and not a few time zones? Duty called and so we packed up the Simpson four to meet the rest of my natal family in bella Roma. It was an incredible week full of sight-seeing, limoncello drinking, and memory making. Here are the highlights:

Christmas gift exchange

Seeing the Pope... twice!

 We love our cousin!

La Piazza Navona

Trevi Fountain

The Colosseum and the Forum

 Hanging with Uncle Matt

 Morning cappuccino with Dad

Everyone at the Vatican

A Reflection on "Normal"

Sometimes I forget that I’m living abroad. I don’t mean that I think I am still living in America, I just mean that it doesn’t feel like there is anything “different” about our lives anymore. So many of the things that were once strange and new have become so natural that I forget that there was a time I had to get used to it. I have grown accustomed to handing my credit card to the cashier with two hands, taking taxis everywhere, knowing that I will have to order in a restaurant using pointing and hand signals; it is all just my life now. It is funny how you adjust.

I was thinking how interesting it will be for our girls growing up with this life as “normal”. Calling grandparents means using the computer and a calculator to calculate the time difference, a break from school is usually equated with needing a passport, and a really special dinner means TGI Fridays. I suppose it is true from every generation to the next, but our girls are going to have a very different childhood than what I had.

Just before we let out for Christmas, I asked my freshmen what they were doing for Christmas. As they each went around saying what they were doing and where they were going, I reflected on how different life is for expats. Everyone going “home” or to a warmer place for a few weeks is expected, someone staying in the country is the exception. One student explained that he was going to Cambodia. He couldn’t remember which city but knew it wasn’t the big city. Another student chimed in, “Phnom Penh?”  The class erupted in insults saying, “Phnom Penh is the big city, duh!”

These kids are freshmen in high school and not only do they know the capital of Cambodia but many of them have been there and can tell you the currency and the exchange rate against the US dollar and the Euro. Crazy. I’m pretty sure I didn’t find out that Cambodia existed until I was at least a junior. I don’t think I could have pointed it out on a map until I moved to Taiwan. But, at the same time, there are so many things that are “normal” to my childhood that are totally foreign to expat kids. Most of them never went to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap, they have never driven around the neighborhood looking at Christmas lights, and many of them have never known what a real Christmas tree in your living room smells like.  

No matter where I live, I will always have a strong tie to American culture and traditions. Even though I may experience reverse culture shock every summer as I ogle grocery store aisles, the US will always be my home culture. It will forever be the measure against which I compare everything I experience. So, I often wonder, what will my girls use? What will their measure be? I think being abroad helps them to be adaptable, accepting, and gives them a knowledge of their world; but does it also rob them of a sense of consistency? Is there any way that they can know the capital of Sri Lanka but still have fun building forts with their Stateside cousins?  In short, I guess I really just want what every parent wants anywhere in the world. I don’t want my kids to be weirdos. Is that too much to ask?

Am I doing this right?

So first off, let me apologize profusely for my two month blogging hiatus. I fully intended to write a blog every couple of weeks or, at the very least, once a month. Yet, here I find myself nearly eight weeks from the last post. If there is anyone left reading this blog, I apologize and promise to do better.

One of the excuses that I am going to give you about why I have taken such a long break is that the Simpson clan has been quite under the weather for the last week. Being sick sucks. There, I said it. There is nothing fun about it. Historically, I haven’t been one to get sick too often but when I do, I am reminded of how much I adore my immune system and can’t wait for it to do its thing and get me back to normal. You know what is worse than you being sick? Your kid being sick. When I’m sick, I know what hurts and how much it hurts. I can take a stab at what is wrong and what I need to do about it. A little girl just under two can’t tell you that. And so there is not a lot I can do about it. This is where our story begins.

The great thing about living on campus with all of the teachers and their families is that we get to see each other all the time and our kids have plenty of playmates. Unfortunately, however, this also means that when one kid gets sick, they all get sick. So, our two girls with a cough that sounded woefully similar to their friends’, we took them to the doctor and received the diagnosis we were expecting: bronchitis. Ten days of antibiotics it was. Not surprised, we headed home ready to serve our time on the medicine spoon chain-gang. The hospital had other plans, however.

The giving of the medicine turned out to be a more difficult task than I had anticipated. Lily must have been poisoned in a former life because she did everything in her 10 kg. power she could possibly do to not swallow the medicine we offered. If you have ever tried to get a toddler to do something they don’t want to do, you have some sort of idea how much her tiny little self writhed and squirmed so that the two tiny drops that did actually enter her mouth could easily be spat out. There has to be an easier way, I thought. There is no way I’m doing this right.

Poor Lucy really tried to cooperate with the medicine. For her, it was her stomach that refused it and promptly ejected it so as to not allow any of the antibiotic properties to do their job in her system. So then, what do I do? I’m her mother; I’m supposed to take care of her and make her better. Do I force her to take medicine that will most likely make her throw up and cause her to lose the day’s nutrients along with the medicine? Or, do I stop halfway through an antibiotic to let her keep lunch down for once but cause her (and her bronchitis) to build up an immunity to the antibiotic? Both decisions felt like the wrong one. Sitting in the ER at midnight one night confirmed that there is no way I was doing this right.

Lucy was still throwing up. I wasn’t doing this right. Lily was still coughing. I wasn’t doing this right. That is why having your kid sick is a million times worse than you being sick. More than anything in the world I wanted them to get better but there just isn’t a switch to flip or a button to push. Seeing my distress, other parents comforted me, “Don’t worry, they will get better.” Nonetheless, every time the clock struck “medicine time”, it seemed like the world was going to end.

But, it didn’t. My friends were right. The girls did get better. Though we are still making our way through the post-antibiotic haze, I am able to take a step back and get a little perspective. How blessed am I that the only illness I have had to deal with in their two years is a little bronchitis? And how amazing to live in a place that has antibiotic and IV hydration drips readily at my disposal. I really have very little to complain about. As far as the medicine administering, I still don’t know if I was doing it right or if I made the right decisions. I do know that I love them more than they will understand until they get to know the agony and the ecstasy of motherhood. All I can do is hope that I only give them enough dysfunction to have funny stories at dinner parties. Wish me luck!