Owen's Weekend To Do List

Go to PA and get lots of love and attention from Nana P, Nana and Pop-Pop K, and Uncle Rich and Aunt Cathy (check)

Play with Wiley (check)

Check out cousin Samantha's modeling job in the Shopko flyer (check)

Cut another tooth (check)

Practice crawling (um ... check back on that one, still working on it)

Visit with "Aunt" Audrey and Jenna (check)

Try new foods - pasta, ice tea, cookies (check)

Continue to be cute, cuddly, adorable and lovable (double check)

You Are My I Love You

I wasn't a little girl who played with dolls. I never particularly liked playing house and I didn't spend much time as an adolescent thinking of future children or choosing their names. Sure I thought babies were cute and kids were - for the most part - fun, but I was never crazy obsessed with having one. There were even times during our journey to have a child that I wondered if we should persevere; after all, I was happy with my marriage, my job, my friends, with having Cearra in my life, and being able to travel or just sit and read a book. My life was good.

Forward to now. In the last two months I've cradled a crying baby in my arms in the middle of the night and given up my much loved weekend sleep-in, lazy mornings. My hair is usually in a ponytail, my clothes are usually wet with drool (or worse). I can still read magazines but there's not enough time for books. Laundry is endless; as is cleaning up and washing bottles. Some days I miss work and I always miss my paycheck. My back hurts, my arms hurt, my shoulder aches. I've broken nails trying to work the *$&#@ car seat and gone to war with the high chair tray. A big trip (and accomplishment) is getting to the grocery store and back in between nap time and meal time. My life is so different.

And it's worth every tiring, frustrating moment when Owen smiles at me, and learns something new everyday, and laughs when I tickle him, and snuggles into my neck as I hold him. Many days I am brought to tears by how much and how deeply I love him. I am so blessed and so very thankful that this girl who didn't know how much it would mean has the chance to be this mom who does.

My dear, dear friend Amy gave me a book that I can't read without crying, for it so perfectly puts into words all that Owen is to me and that I hope to be to him ...

I am your parent; you are my child. I am your quiet place; you are my wild.

I am your calm face; you are my giggle. I am your wait; you are my wiggle.

I am your carriage ride; you are my king.

I am your push; you are my swing.

I am your audience; you are my clown. I am your London Bridge; you are my falling down.

I am your carrot sticks; you are my licorice. I am your dandelion; you are my first wish.

I am your water wings; you are my deep. I am your open arms; you are my running leap.

I am your way home; you are my new path.

I am your dry towel; you are my wet bath.

I am your dinner; you are my chocolate cake. I am your bedtime; you are my wide awake.

I am your finish line; you are my race. I am your praying hands; you are my saying grace.

I am your favorite book; you are my new lines. I am your night-light; you are my starshine.

I am your lullaby; you are my peekaboo.

I am your good night kiss; you are my I love you.

"You Are My I Love You" by Maryann K. Cusimano

Owen's Egg-cellent Easter

I know - groan - I promise, the remainder of this post is pun-free.

Our usual camping trip with Audrey and Walt was postponed due to a wedding they were attending, so the Mechems (minus Cearra unfortunately) headed to western Maryland for the Easter weekend.

Friday night we ate dinner at Bunnies (the restaurant owned by Bob's dad and step mom; if you are ever in LaVale, MD stop by and try the Haystack salad or Charlene's famous crab soup) where Owen was the toast of the tavern as his "Pap" proudly introduced him to all the diners.

Next we went to Nannie's for the night and the next day had a wonderful time visiting with Uncle Todd, Aunt Maria, and Cousin Hannah, plus friends and family who stopped by to meet Owen. Beth - we promise we'll see you next time! Owen also met his great grandfather Bud; it was touching to see four generations together. Thank you to everyone for coming to see us and for the thoughtful gifts for Owen.

We wrapped up our trip by joining Pap, Charlene and Charlene's mom for Easter dinner

*** We interrupt this post to bring you breaking news ... Owen's right front tooth has appeared!! Now back to our post ***

on Sunday. Then our amazingly good kid slept the whole way home. We had a wonderful weekend and look forward to seeing everyone again very soon. I hope your Easter was equally filled with family and friends (and perhaps some dark chocolate coconut creme eggs?).

Observations on Kokshetau

Jodi's Note: I wrote the following while in Kaz but never posted it. I've been thinking of our time in Kokshetau lately and thought I'd share some of my observations about the city. Check back next week for another Owen update.

The ice and packed snow on the sidewalk and streets is at least an inch thick and very slippery, but the fashionable women of Kokshetau go everywhere in high heeled boots with nary a slip. Perhaps the thin heels act as ice picks?

The women here are beautiful. They dress well – if perhaps a little dated looking from an American perspective - and take care to look good; they make even winter hats and scarves look chic. Some of the gorgeous Russian women remind me of my cousin Bev with their big expressive eyes and high cheekbones. We often find ourselves looking at the wide variety of Kazakh faces to try to imagine what Owen will look like as a child, a teen, a grown man.

Everyone goes to the actual offices of the electric company, water company, etc. to pay their bills as no one has personal checks. A few people have credit cards but they are mainly for businesses.

When going into stores and restaurants you do not hold the door open for anyone. If you do, you will be stuck there for at least 15 minutes as a steady stream of people comes in and out. Holding the door for those behind you also does not seem to be a common courtesy.

Mayonnaise, vinegar and dill are the condiments of choice. The salads have no lettuce, but some of our favorites are 1) apple, cheese, nuts and mayo, 2) chicken, cheese, corn, potato sticks and mayo, and 3) salami, cucumbers, red peppers, peas, tomatoes, croutons and mayo. We avoid the options with tongue as an ingredient.

All the cuts of beef are unidentifiable and pounded thin, and the chicken always has skin, lots of fat and usually bones. A lot of times the menu will offer items such as “Beef the Spanish Way” or “Chicken in the way of Petropavlovsk” and usually Rada has no idea what this means. Sides are separate and you can get mashed potatoes, French fries, home style potatoes and rice. Most of the time some sprinkles of dill is the only green thing on your plate.

Despite the high fat, low veggie diet, the majority of people here are very slim. It is rare to see anyone overweight, and then it is usually an older woman. Portions are much smaller, people walk everywhere, there are almost no elevators and perhaps people cook more healthfully at home than in the restaurants. Inna told us the mayonnaise was low fat. Not sure about that but it does taste different (and in my opinion, better) than at home.

There are dogs running everywhere and I’ve seen a few cats sitting on rooftops and window ledges. Amazingly the dogs seem fairly well fed (I think at least some of them have homes and people just let them wander during the day and bring them in at night) and are often playing and chasing each other. They also seem to only cross the street when no cars are near and at the crosswalks and surprisingly the drivers do slow to avoid them or honk if they get too near the street. I take table scraps out at night and leave them in places I’ve seen the dogs gather; I hope they find it.

The pigeons here are fatter than those in New York, and there are lots of little sparrows and a chickadee type bird here. There are also big dramatic black and white birds with long tail feathers that have a beautiful song. Rada said they were Magpies. Someone in our building hung a bird feeder in a tree below our window and I contribute old bread crusts and crackers to it on a regular basis.

Driving really is an adventure. There are no lines or lanes in the streets and more than twice we’ve had to jump out of the way on the sidewalk because a driver decided it was a good shortcut. Pedestrians never have the right of way here - even little old ladies shuffling along better get out of the street quickly. Horn use is liberal and loud. At times it feels very much like bumper cars just shy of the actual contact. Add in the fact that they don’t clear the roads except for the occasional work crew armed with shovels and twig brooms, and it is incredible that we haven’t yet seen an accident. There are a lot of nice cars - Toyota, Mercedes, Lexus, and BMW are all well represented - and then there are the Russian Ladas and trucks that look at least as old as the Soviet regime.

Life in Kokshetau can be difficult. The weather is harsh; jobs are not plentiful and pay is not good; the buildings and apartments are run down and rather depressing (in my eyes). People live with very few material things that while not necessary, do make life easier and often more enjoyable. Still, everyday we see children running and laughing, adults gathered in conversation, friends walking together. Much here is different – even the culture and some of the attitudes of the people – but at heart we really are all the same.