Ready or Not, Here We Come!

Well, folks, this is it. Another year in the books. In a few short days, we will turn on the dehumidifiers, lock up our apartment, and head off to the airport to cross the Pacific back to the homeland. They tell me that there are just as many days in the year now as when I was a kid, but it is pretty hard to believe as this time of year always seems to catch me off guard. Nevertheless, here we are as I try to tie up loose ends and prepare for the long trek back to the States.

I would like to start off by stating that I am looking forward to seeing the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave once again. Dreams of pancakes, Chik-Fil-A, and reasonably priced watermelon have been dancing in my head for some time now. We can’t wait to introduce the BOGO’s to their adoring fans back in the US. Don’t worry, Chris and I have fully come to terms with the fact that the two of us have been unequivocally replaced on everyone’s “must see” lists by these two bundles of joy.

This being said, I have to express some concerns about the actual process of realizing my dreams of Chik-Fil-A and BOGO introductions. You see, in order to get us from point A in Seoul to point B in America, there is this pesky little thing called a trans-Pacific flight. For those of you who do much traveling, you know that flying isn’t a whole lot of fun. Crossing oceans is less fun. Crossing an ocean and then crossing the Continental United States is even less fun. Chris and I know this because we have done it several times now. But, we don’t need to be reminded that this year is going to be different. Why? Oh yes, those little bundles of joy are coming with us this time. In order to get myself in gear for this adventure, I thought I would put a few of my apprehensions in words and help myself process them.

Apprehension number one: Packing. For anyone who knows me or any of the other Loomis’, you know that our worth as a human being is negatively correlated with the size of our suitcases. When we pack, every corner is cut and we actually feel like failures if we don’t wear everything from our suitcase at least twice. (You should see the tiny backpack that my sister packed to come to Seoul for two weeks, and she fit in gifts for us and the babies.) Anyone who checks a bag on the airplane is deemed unfit for interaction with the Loomis family. Sadly, I have to put this training aside as I prepare to essentially move our entire nursery across the Pacific with us. Toys, diapers, wipes, bottles, clothes to grow out of and in to, burp cloths, car seats; and the list goes on. Note to those picking us up at the airport: I hope you have a lot of trunk space.

Apprehension number two: Claustrophobia. No, I haven’t suddenly become afraid of tightly enclosed places. I have a very deep fear of being in an enclosed place where people are trying to sleep and I have a screaming baby… or two. We are going to be those people at the gate at whom businessmen scowl, flight attendants cringe, and bring the rest of the passengers to their knees praying that they don’t get seated next to us. We are the lepers of the flying world. If there ever was a mother who wished that they made baby Ambien, it would be me. Did I mention Lucy might be teething? Note to people picking us up at the airport: bring earplugs. You’ll probably want them.

Apprehension number three: Jet lag. Now, I am not talking about a two or three hour “I just got in from California” kind of jet lag. I am talking about completely switching AM and PM and then some. With four month old babies. I don’t know how we got so incredibly lucky to have babies who sleep so well at nighttime and I don’t take it for granted. However, I have no idea how they will react when I try to convince them that the sleep schedule we have worked so hard to set in stone has to be modified once we hit the tarmac… and then switch back again in six weeks. Note to those hosting us: invest in some sleeping pills of your own… or invent baby Ambien.

Ready or not, here we come. Game faces, everyone, it is go time. That Chik-Fil-A better be good.

Back in the Saddle

Two weeks ago, my time “solo mio” with the girls came to a close. I really wasn’t sure how I would take it. Before they came along, I proclaimed to those around me that I would unquestionably return to work without hesitation. This proclamation joined the ranks of other pre-motherhood gems such as, “We won’t need that many diapers, will we?” or “Tandem nursing will be a breeze, just look at how happy the mom looks in these pictures!” And of course, “I know what it means to be tired.”

Throughout my maternity leave, the idea of returning to work was associated with a wide range of emotions. Some afternoons, as I wearily rocked both screaming girls back and forth in a bootless attempt to soothe them until the next feeding time, I dreamed happily of the days when I could deal with teenagers again. I thought about being able to dress up without fear of being vomited upon and spending the morning not dealing with anyone else’s fecal matter. However, other afternoons I couldn’t imagine being more than an arm’s length away from those two smiling, squealing, cuddly little balls of joy who have irrevocably changed my life. So, as the hourglass ran out, I slipped on my high heels and wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I shirking my motherly duties by having another person take care of my babies while I go off to do another job? Will they miss me too much during the day? Or, worse yet, will they not miss me during the day and find that they prefer the loving hands of someone who actually knows what they are doing?

I’m not going to lie. Those first few steps out the door on Monday morning were some of the hardest steps I’ve ever had to take. But, stepping back into my classroom being greeted by students and colleagues eased the pain just a bit. And, as the day wore on, I was reminded by how much I really do love my job. I love my students, I love my fellow teachers, and I just love teaching. I am blessed to be able to spend my days doing something that I am passionate about in a place that is incredibly supportive of working moms. Not only that, but I actually live about a stone’s throw away from where I work. I can literally see my apartment from my classroom window and can pop in if I feel the urge throughout the day (sorry Aunt Samantha and Aunt Tori, some days are more “urge-y” than others). Undoubtedly the biggest blessing of all has been to have two incredible sisters willing to come and take care of our little squirts while I am off gallivanting around teaching teenagers the wonders of conjugating –ar verbs.

So, am I doing the right thing by continuing to work and have someone else take care of my babies while I do it? Frankly, I don’t know. The fact of the matter is this: I love my babies and I love my job. Here’s to a lifetime of trying to make them both work.

Three Cheers for Literacy!

I had two main goals that I wanted to complete during my maternity leave, other than taking care of babies of course. The first was to read Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. After reassessing what life with two new babies was like, this goal was quickly replaced by “survive”. Not to jinx myself just yet, but this goal has been attained so far.

The second goal I had for myself during my “time off” was to finally get on the stick and learn some Korean. Before moving here, Chris and I thought that learning it would be a breeze compared to the Chinese we had to learn while living in Taiwan. Korean isn’t tonal and it even has a phonetic alphabet for goodness sakes. However, here it is May of our first year here and we still know far more Chinese than we do Korean. And that is just plain sad, people… especially for a language teacher.

So, earlier last week I set out to remove this shroud of shame that has plagued me since we moved to Seoul. I determined that I would, at the very least, learn the alphabet and learn to count in Korean by the time I headed back to work on May 9. You know what? People were right. It really was easy! With the modern convenience of trusty ol’ Youtube, I was tutored by no less than half a dozen native Koreans on how to read, write and count.

My newfound knowledge has me feeling like a giddy kindergartener who has just learned to decipher Dr. Seuss for the first time. Signs and posters are now somewhat intelligible to me. No, I still don’t have any idea what they mean, but I can pronounce them, by George! That is something I was never able to do in Taiwan. A walk down our street has become a living classroom full of opportunities to practice my developing skill. Advertisements stop me in my tracks (much to Chris’ annoyance) as I attempt to sound out each syllable. “Sah, no wait, Seo.. … ul, Seo-ul, Seoul! That says Seoul!” While others around me may scoff at my 4-year-old linguistic ability, I have thoroughly impressed myself. And so I shall bid you a hearty 안녕히계세요 and go out and sound out some more words. I think that Laura Bush was on to something. Literacy is awesome.

Another Reason to Love Korea

As you might imagine, getting out to run errands can be somewhat of a challenge since the BOGOs made their appearance a couple of months ago. Not having a car adds to this difficulty because, as it turns out, car seats aren’t actually that useful without a vehicle. Not only that but I’ve found that my purse and pockets don’t quite cut the mustard when it comes to the trunk space I often require. Last week, a friend of mine asked if I would like to go grocery shopping with her. There are three challenges posed by this task. The first two are named Lily and Lucy. The third is the fact that whatever I purchase must be carried from the grocery store back to my apartment without the aid of a trunk. When my friend offered to strap one of the babies on so that we could walk to the store, we solved our first two obstacles leaving us only with the third. Enter Korean brilliance.

In a city as big as Seoul, many people rely on public transportation and scooters to get around. This leaves many a poor soul without trunk space with which to transport goods from the store back home. To solve this problem, many vendors have made the move to offer a delivery service. “So what?” you may say. “Plenty of people around here deliver.” Here’s the thing. Since delivery service is so commonplace, this amenity is offered free of charge. But wait, there’s more! Not only is bringing your purchase to your door free, the delivery guy doesn’t stand in your doorway with his palm out waiting to receive a tip. No delivery fee, no tipping the deliverer, just items showing up at your doorstep. It is magical.

So, the grocery store that my friend and I visited was one of the many locations offering this delightful service. Sometimes, however, there is one speed bump in this perfect process. As foreigners, we often have difficulty communicating exactly where our newly purchased items are to be taken. The vendor often has an equally difficult time communicating exactly when we are to be home to receive our goods. Enter brilliance of this particular grocery store. Upon arrival, we went directly over to the customer service desk, handed them my ID card, and waited a couple of minutes. They filled out the necessary paperwork for me and handed me a card that the checkout person would scan when I purchased my food. This card evidently contains all of my information thereby circumventing any miscommunication about where my groceries are to be taken. Once purchased, the grocery store has a policy that the food will be delivered in the next 60 minutes thus allowing ample time to walk back home and have a nice stop off at a café on the way.

So my friend and I shopped to our heart’s content without a single thought about how much each item might weigh or how awkward it might be to carry. We went to the checkout, scanned our cards, walked home via an iced caramel macchiato and arrived at our apartments just in time to receive our goods. Magical. My only concern at this point is if they ask to put the information from my card on my wrist or forehead… meh, I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

A New Friend

I am quite ashamed to say that my skills in the Korean language are bad, and by bad I mean non-existent. In Taiwan, Chris and I picked up some survival Chinese and were able to get around at a functional level. However, here in Seoul we live on campus surrounded by other English speakers and we have not been forced to learn any of the local language. Despite promises made to myself to develop in this area of weakness, I have made no progress over the last year.

Nothing highlights this ineptitude more than when I hop into a taxi to venture out into the city. It is not usually because I don’t know how to say where I want to go, however. I have learned the names of certain areas and can pronounce them with at least some degree of accuracy. Instead, I am reminded of my language deficit when the taxi driver desires to converse with the crazy foreigners and their tiny foreign devil babies. Such a circumstance came about the other day when Chris, Chris’ mom and I set out on an errand that required a 20 minute taxi ride.

As we situated ourselves in the cab, we went through the usual charade session to indicate that we had twin girls who are two months old. This is often where conversations stop and I expected this one to end here as well. But, this particular cabbie was quite chatty. He proceeded to spout off in Korean a number of very important and interesting points about twins, Korea, and life in general… at least that is what I imagine that he was saying. After the first few minutes of chatting, we all attempted to give him a blank smile that usually communicates, “Hello, good sir, I am sure that you have valid points to make but unfortunately I cannot understand any of them as I am an ignorant foreigner who has not taken the pains to learn your language.” This blank stare did not deter our new friend, however. Through hand signals, very interesting sound effects, Korean, and a smattering of English, he proceeded to explain to us the ways of the world. Meanwhile, the three of us made it a sort of game to decipher what it was he was so intent on explaining to us.

“Japan blah blah blah *explosion sound followed by large hand gesture*! Blah blah blah Korea *high-pitched noise followed by hand gesture signifying something small*.” We nod slowly and take a few stabs at what he is explaining. Is he still talking about the twins or have we moved on to a new topic? He continues, “Blah blah America *small explosion sound and medium hand gesture*. China! Ha, China blah blah. *Laser sound and arrow hand motion*. Korea, Korea *small hand gesture again*. Japan *explosion sound and large hand gesture*.” We huddle together and discuss what he might be talking about. Was he explaining foreign relations? Was he talking about child-rearing traditions and when children are typically brought out in public? He continued on with increasingly animated sound effects and gestures.

Finally, Chris thought he had decrypted the message. “Tsunami?” he ventured. “Of course tsunami,” his tone responded as he continued to communicate through pointing and grunting. Our new friend resumed his game of charades with sound effects seemingly unfazed. We, however, held a mini-celebration at Chris’ incredible victory in comprehension. When we finally reached our destination, we were all glowing with satisfaction: our driver because he had informed the ignorant foreigners about important information regarding the tsunami; us because we had actually succeeded in comprehending one word of a twenty minute conversation. We have got to learn Korean.