Welcome New Baby!

We love you soooo much!!!

Clara James Ceylan

September 16, 2009

6 lb 10 oz

Having another baby

I think every culture has certain ways of doing things that are just the right way. Here in Turkey, when it comes to home and family issues, it seems like old ladies are the ones to enforce the right way. Every time an old lady comes over to talk to me I know she's going to expel her life wisdom on me, usually by telling me something I'm doing wrong - my kids aren't dressed warm enough, or I need to get my baby out of the draft, or I shouldn't let my girls eat ice cream, or I'm holding the baby the wrong way, etc.

I think my friend Kristal has found the same thing in Albania. She hasn't had any kids yet and old ladies feel the need to stop her in the street and tell her to get busy.

I'm facing the opposite problem.

Turks in big cities love kids, but they are very concerned about providing absolutely everything for their kids - spoon feeding them until 3 or 4 years old (sometimes more), hovering under or over them at the park in fear that they'll fall when they slide or climb up steps, walking behind them with their arms extended until the toddler is no longer toddling. Raising small children in America is exhausting. For Turks it is even more exhausting. For this reason and others, it's more common to wait 5, 6, 7, or 8 years between siblings than it is to have them 1, 2, or 3 years apart like we do in the States. I'm about to pop a third baby out into the world before most of my neighbors with children Elise's age have even started thinking about number two.

A few of my neighbors have questioned why I got pregnant, some of them have expressed how sad they are for me that I accidently got pregnant so soon (they look shocked when I tell them I planned and wanted this baby), but it's the old ladies who really let me know what's up.

About a week ago I was at a playground with Elise and Marie. An older woman I'd never met before came and sat by me.

Me: Hello, how are you?

Old lady: Good, good. Are those two blond girls yours?

Me: Yes.

Old lady: They are so cute! Mashallah (that's something you always say after giving a compliment.. it's something like a charm to keep the evil eye away in spite of the fact that you've brought good attention to something).

Me: Thank you.

Old lady: Looking at my giant belly, When are you having your next baby?

Me: I only have about two more weeks. Not long.

Old lady: suddenly very serious. What are you thinking? You can't take care of all three of these children. Let me tell you what you need to do. You need to go to the doctor and get your tubes tied.

Me: sitting in silent surprise.

Old lady: Listen to me. You are losing your youth. You will age too quickly and become old and ugly. These children are way too close together. You have to put a stop to it.

Me: trying to hold in my surprise and laughter and really not sure how to respond to this well intentioned advice (coming from a complete stranger!), Well, I'll have to think about that.

Old lady: No, don't think about it. Just go and do it.

I just sat there for 30 seconds or so, trying to think about what to say. I've learned by now that it does absolutely no good to try to explain different cultures to old ladies. They could really care less that this is the way we do things in America. Their way is the right way, period.

Old lady: in the same natural way she told me to get my tubes tied, Don't forget to wash your kids hands when you go inside. The playground is full of germs.

Me: Thanks, I will.

We sat a little longer then she got up and moved on, probably to find another poor young mother who desperately needed her advice.

Bubble Gum Yogurt

I took the girls grocery shopping with me this morning. They have a love/hate relationship with the grocery store.

At first it's pure love. I think the colors, the smells, the sights, and all the possibilities of things we may bring home are really exciting. Plus, as two little blond girls they get a lot of attention. Every time I turn around someone is tickling them, or pinching their cheeks, or telling them how beautiful they are. When Elise was first born this kind of attention from strangers really freaked me out I mean Americans pretty much ignore stranger's children, they certainly wouldn't come up and tickle them... but now I'm used to it and as long as the girls like the attention I do too.

Somewhere around halfway through the store it turns to the hate part of the relationship. Mom has said no a few too many times, a few too many strangers have touched them, and they're just about overwhelmed. It's about this time that I look for something cheap and with at least a tiny bit of nutritional value for them to pick out and bring home. Somehow having that little perk carries them through the rest of the trip.

Today it was yogurt. I was examining the cheeses, trying to decide which one might taste close to Jack or Mozerella, and the girls were getting fussy. I noticed the colorful yogurt containers on the lower shelves and told them to pick one out to bring home. After much deliberation they chose little pink containers that had extra little compartments on the lids, full of something to stir into the yogurt. I didn't look too closely, but noticed that the front said something about being a good source of calcium and vitamin D. Perfect, I thought, probably full of sugar, but it's not like I'm giving them lollipops.

We went through the check out with the girls holding tightly to their pink yogurt cups. I strolled the cart home and left it in front of my building. Yes, you read that right... I live just down the street from the market in a 10 story building and just bring the cart right home with me, then when someone else goes to the market they bring it back... very convenient! I LOVE IT!

The girls could hardly wait to eat their yogurt so before I even put away the groceries, I sat them down at the table and started peeling back the aluminum lids. It was at this point that I noticed that the pink containers weren't full of raspberry, strawberry, or cherry flavor yogurt like I had assumed. They were bubble gum flavor. Bubble Gum. What kind of twisted person would even consider that to be an okay yogurt flavor?

Next I opened the little lid compartments and found that they contained what looked like colorful sugar crystals. Resigned to the fact that this was not the healthy treat I'd been hoping for, I handed them over to the girls.

Elise, my little direction follower, stirred hers into her yogurt. Marie smiled and greedily grabbed the "nandy" (her word for candy) and popped it in her mouth.

Then I heard the sound. I don't think I've heard it since I was sitting in the back of a friends car at the age of eleven, but it's one of those sounds you never forget.

Marie's smile turned to a look of surprise while her nandy fizzled and popped around in her mouth. Pop rocks! I bought bubble gum yogurt with stir-in pop rocks!

Yes way.

I'm still cringing when I think about it. Seriously, I just got a gross-out quiver up my spine.

But at least it was a "good source of calcium and vitamin D." (eye roll)

To my relief, neither of my kids were big fans of the disgusting mixture in front of them and said that next time they just want some peach yogurt without those twirly swirly candies.

White Rice

Our family is back in Turkey, but not in our own place yet. That means that although I can take pictures, I can't download them to my computer to share with all of you (boo-hoo!). Whatever doo-hickey it is we need for downloading is somewhere in the piles of boxes that I'm not brave enough to unpack, and so you and I will just have to wait for the pictures, mmm kay?

A few nights ago James and I went out to eat for our anniversary. Oh, the dining choices we have here in the capital, Ankara. . . so vast, so amazing! The smaller city we moved from didn't have near the selection. When we went out in Kayseri (which was rare) the choice was Turkish food, or Turkish food, or that other kind of Turkish food, plus some hit and miss chinese at a Turkish restaurant or pizza (but don't picture a pizza like you'd see at Pizza Hut or even Murphy's Take n Bake... it really doesn't compare), or McDonalds. . . can't forget McDonalds.

Anyway, the other night we chose Chinese. We ordered a main dish and then pointed to the first item on the rice page of the menu, asking for the plain steamed rice to go along with it.

Waiter: Tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows, That rice is cooked in steam.

James: I understand, that's what I want to order.

Waiter: Lowering his pen and pad of paper. No, I don't think so... it doesn't have any salt on it.

Me: Right. That's what we want.

Waiter: It's not normal rice. It was cooked in steam, it wasn't cooked in butter or oil.

James: We understand. We want to order the plain steamed rice from your menu.

Waiter: I just want to make sure you know what you're getting. It's flavorless. Are you really sure that's what you want?

James and I: YES!

Waiter: Reluctantly writing our order on a piece of paper while shaking his head. Okay, if you're sure.

Two things were going on here.

First, Turks LOVE rice. They eat it all the time. It's a great side to almost any Turkish meal. But they (obviously) DON'T love steamed rice. Turkish rice is pilaf. It starts with melting plenty of butter or oil in the bottom of your pan then frying up some small noodles until they're brown and crispy. Next you throw in your white rice (sorted and washed) and fry that in the butter for a while before adding water and salt (or bullion) to the whole thing. It's flavorful, it's oily, and it quickly adds inches to my thighs. Steamed rice is plain. It's flavor is subtle. My Turkish friend Isil told me it was disgusting when she happened to stop by right around dinner time one evening.

Second, in general, Turkish waiters LOVE to make suggestions based on their own tastes. They would probably feel really horrible if a customer got some really gross food and they could have prevented it. Since James and I had asked the waiter to describe a few of the main course items, maybe he assumed we were new to the whole Chinese food thing and had no idea that plain rice is actually repulsive. And even after it was crystal clear, he still could hardly bring himself to have any part in bringing the yucky stuff to us.

In the end, our food came, our rice came, we enjoyed our meal.

Hmmm, I just remembered that in Kayseri, at the hit and miss Chinese place, steamed rice was always on the menu, but never available when we tried to order it. I guess they just couldn't bring themselves to actually make it.