Homeschooling Adventures

One of the best things about homeschooling is flexibility.  Although I prefer homeschooling in small doses, I do love having the chance to approach learning nontraditionally.  Of course our kids have to study math and read and write, but we try to look for other opportunities to learn as well.

When My Man heard about a Lego Festival at The Leonardo, a hands-on discovery museum in Salt Lake City, we figured it would fit the bill.  My Man took the kids and they spent the morning exploring the exhibit.

Afterward, we stopped at the Utah state capital for a little history lesson, perusing exhibits, appreciating the art and architecture, and of course, posing for lots of pictures.

When we had learned all about Utah's legislative history, we headed to Ensign Peak for another hands-on history lesson, hiking the snowy trail for a breath-taking view of the valley.

After the hike, we visited a sculpture garden featuring a local religious artist.  Then we dropped My Man and his sister off to meet a friend who scored VIP tickets to the Jazz game.  They had a blast.

Other homeschooling "field trips" have included PE at the rec center, a screening of Hidden Figures at the theater (followed by a robust discussion on race, human rights, and gender equality at Denny's),  robotics with Grandpa, and more.

Of course, we don't spend all our time on school.  Mostly we're just trying to make memories, have fun, and enjoy this time together.  And we have!

Cousins playing the tape candy game at Grandma's house.

Breakfast with friends.

Family time.

Cousins (including Baby Leo not quite here yet)

Siblings

Trampoline fun

Cafe Rio!

Darling Daughter's doodles

Lots of car rides

Crazy mirror at the Lego Festival

Kiting at Point of the Mountain

Home Leave: All About Making Memories

One of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad consequences of living and working abroad is that when someone you love is sick or needs you, it's hard to be there for them.  Last year, my little sister was diagnosed with cancer.  Stage IV.  The phone call hit me like a sucker-punch to the gut because (1) My sister has cancer; (2) I was in Thailand, a minimum of 36-hours of travel time away and 12-hour time difference and unreliable Internet so that getting there to give her a hug was almost impossible and even offering support by phone was difficult; (3) Cancer sucks.  Stage IV cancer really sucks.

So I did what pretty much everyone else does when they hear someone has cancer but they don't know what to do.  I ordered stuff on Amazon, a kick-a** cancer can't beat me necklace, chemo hat, a pink shirt for breast cancer awareness.  I even sent some fun Thai knick-knacks--purses and scarves and what-not.  But I knew it was a pathetic gesture.  I wanted to be there, help do laundry and dishes and read to her three beautiful girls, and give her a real live hug.  Be there for her.  But I was in Thailand, half a world away, and my heart ached.

Eventually, I was able to work it out to visit for a couple weeks in early November to help out; it was amazing to be there, to finally get that hug and do the laundry and dishes and do my nieces' hair and read to them and help however I could.  My parents and other sister even worked it out to overlap for a couple days so we could spend a weekend all together.  It was great.

But still, it didn't feel like enough.  So now, I'm back, taking advantage of the time between posts when we are required to stay in the United States, to visit again.  It is terrible to be away from My Man and my boys for so long (Darling Daughter came with me for this trip), but I don't know the next time I'll be able to visit my sister and support her, so I am grateful for this opportunity (and so grateful for My Man helping make it work out).

It's not all work either.  I relish the opportunity to make memories with my nieces (the youngest of whom I barely even knew before this!), to hang out and chat with my sister and brother-in-law, and to enjoy San Antonio's miraculous winter weather.  While My Man and boys are buried in several feet of snow up in Utah, we spent the day today picnicking and strolling through the botanical gardens.  The 65 degree sunshine felt like a little bit of heaven.

Last Saturday, I even snuck away to take Darling Daughter to see the Alamo and explore the San Antonio Riverwalk.  It was amazing to share that time with her.

And most days I take the girls on long walks or to the park while my sister is resting.  Just soaking up as much Vitamin D as possible before heading to the snowy dark winter of Kyiv.

But mostly, I am just so grateful to have this time to be here for my sister.

Meanwhile, My Man and the boys are taking advantage of the snow and time with family, skiing, enjoying lots of Cafe Rio, building snow forts, and even paragliding at Point of the Mountain.

It's tough being apart for these weeks (I hate it and can't wait until we are all back together again!), but we are grateful for this time home in the good ol' U.S. of A, spending time with family and making memories to bridge the next gap until we see them all again.

Winter Adventures: Surviving the Cold

I remember walking into our bedroom a few months ago in Thailand and shivering, "Brrr!  What did you set the AC to?" I accused my husband, who was comfortably snug in bed under our thin comforter.  "Hon, it's only 24," he responded.  Twenty-four degrees Celsius equates to roughly 75 degrees Farenheight.  As I stood shivering in our room, it hit me:  In only a few months we would be moving to Kyiv, Ukraine, in the middle of winter.  I was going to die.

Our last family picture in December in Chiang Mai, the week before we headed to Utah.  Palm trees, sunny skies, short sleeves . . . December in Thailand is paradise.

Fast-forward to today.

We haven't gotten to Kyiv yet, but we left Thailand a few weeks ago and landed in Utah for a brief visit with family, and baby it's cold out here!  This morning My Man and I went snow shoeing in the mountains (he spent the night in a snow cave--I wimped out and hiked out the same day).

It was -15 C when we left (5 F), and there was deep snow.  I didn't die.  I loved it!  In fact, after a few minutes, I had to take off my hat and gloves and by the end I'd even taken off my jacket.

Turns out, the Scandinavian proverb is correct:  "There is no bad weather, only bad clothes."  Well, at least in Utah.  In Thailand, when the sun was out and the weather was 40 C (104 F) with 90 percent humidity, I don't think there are any clothes that can fix that weather.  Maybe I was made for Kyiv afterall.

As for the kids, they haven't taken long to adjust either.  Between building snow caves, sledding, shooting, snow shoveling, taking sunrise pics and getting stuck in the snow, and hiking we've all spent lots of time playing outside.  Granted, our first stop was the store to hook everyone up with pants, gloves, and close-toed shoes!

Our first big snow was in Idaho where we spent Christmas with my family.  The kids were excited to build a snow fort, sled, and play outside with the dogs for hours.

The cold temps weren't enough to deter these kiddos from hours of sledding in Eagle Mountain at Silver Lakes Amphitheater.  After the sun went down, this mama had to finally coerce them to leave with promises of Stephen's hot cocoa.

The family that shoots together, stays together, or something like that.  The shooting was fun, but really just the excuse to get out and enjoy a gorgeous winter day was enough for me!

Getting out to walk and enjoy the beautiful lake and mountain views was a highlight of our stay with My Man's parents in Saratoga Springs.

My Man and I snuck out early one morning to watch the sunrise.  It was awesome.  We got stuck.  Less awesome.  Turns out salt and cat litter are a magical combination when it comes to getting out of deep snow, in case you were wondering.  You're welcome. :)  

We headed south to enjoy a day of sledding with friends, ending the day with a picnic of chili and cornbread.

We aren't wearing flip-flops and shorts any more, but I think we're going to be just fine.  And there is something absolutely beautiful about snow.

Big Springs, up Provo Canyon

Provo Canyon

Sunset from Provo East Bench

Lost and Found: Living Between Posts

Our weeks back here in the United States, when we are supposed to be re-learning how to be American, have been wonderful.  They have been full of warm, cheerful meetings with old friends, get togethers with family, and shopping sprees at U.S. stores.  It feels so good to be home.  We have binged on good Mexican food, Tillamook icecream, movies, and fast food.  We have stocked up on cereal and Stephen's hot chocolate mix.  We have luxuriated in the familiar ease, marveled at the gorgeous mountain views, and played in the snow.  In short, we have re-learned what it means to be American.

Still, being "home" comes with a price.  While we are home, at least where our HR paperwork claims home is for us, we don't have a home of our own.  We have been living on the generosity of family, bouncing from one house to another, sleeping in borrowed beds or on couches or on the floor.  We are so grateful to have this opportunity to be home, to renew friendships and family ties.  But a piece of me feels displaced, slightly envious of our friends' and families' homes, filled with furnishings they chose themselves, surrounded by friends and neighbors who know them, comfortable with deep roots.  I envy their easy, normal lives with Wal-Mart on the corner and drinkable tap water and everything in English.  I almost wish I was home for good.  I feel lost, displaced, homeless.

Then I remember the time when we were all night swimming in our pool in Thailand in November, laughing and playing with palm trees.  I remember our family vacations to the beach, exploring the ancient ruins in Cambodia, feeding monkeys in Malaysia, and freezing on our junk boat cruise in Vietnam.  I remember the interesting people we've met, the cultures we've explored, the languages we've dabbled in.  I remember eating spicy Thai food and that time we tried roasted crickets.  I remember why we have chosen to give up the comfortable middle class American lifestyle.  And I am found.