Facebook status updates

One of my goals for 2010 is to copy my Facebook status updates as blog entries because I'd like to remember all of the sweet things my kids say/do.

Here's a sample of what they've said recently:

Merry Christmas! Santa's presents were a hit! Eena loved the $1 recorder and 98-cent chapstick the best; Baba loved her $1 baby doll and a Dora I bought a long time ago.

The girls were thrilled with xmas eve gift of gloves...

Apa, Eena and Baba are napping in the car. Wish I could...

Eena: "Baba, it's hard for me to talk while you're talking."

The art of coloring has finally calmed the energetic girls this morning.

Nothing helps the morning like frozen bananas

Eena: "When are we going to China? We should take Baba because she never got to see it." ... later on, Eena asked me the names of her birth parents. When I said I didn't know, she said: "I think she is named 'Bear' and he is named 'Strawberry.'"

Eena: "Daddy make eggs gooder than you."

The girls were all smiles when they met Santa for the first time this evening.

I love that Baba wore my U2 Vertigo concert T-shirt as a nightgown last night

Eena: "I've been waiting all year for Hanukkah!"

Baba: I like my Mommy so much.

Eena thinks she's on China time. She's been up pretty much since 2. Luckily, her sister fell back asleep at 5.

Eena and Baba are playing with their new (my old) dollhouse.

Eena and Baba are passed out in car in post-show nap. a on way to bday party

Eena: "We can take an airplane to visit your Mommy in Heaven."

I hope Baba feels better for her date with Brobee tomorrow morning.

The kids went to bed at a much earlier time with the babysitter. Maybe hubby and I should go out every night.

I need to go Christmas/Hanukkah shopping in her basement when the kids are sleeping

Today marks three years since I got "the referral call" from telling me that I had a beautiful daughter (Eena) in China who was driving a little red car.

Kids keep leaving their room and not going to bed. How can I get them to stay in there?

I'm impressed with how well Eena behaved while I was getting my haircut. On the down side, the hairdresser cut my hair too short...

Eena: "I want to visit Olivia. Throw me into the TV." ... Olivia the pig is a cartoon character.

Baba: "Cassie (the cat) can't go to the supermarket because she doesn't have shoes."

I think Eena feels better after her pukefest at 3 a.m.

I performed my first operation: With a tweezer, I carefully removed a small piece of Kleenex tissue that Baba stuffed up her nose

Eena ate pasta for lunch and dinner yesterday. Now, she's eating it for breakfast.

I'm grateful that Eena and Baba didn't ram their cart into anyone at Trader Joe's

If the girls had a TV show, they said it would be called: "The Hairball Cooking Show."

Much to hubby's dismay, I've busted out the Alvin & the Chipmunks' Christmas CD. The girls love it!

When I told Eena that she can't go commando. Her reply? "Mommy, I didn't know you speak Spanish!"

Baba may not have danced at the Pull-Ups audition, but, on the bright side, she's already smart enough not to dance topless in front of cameras

Future entrepreneur: Eena asked me for money to start a lemonade stand.

"Mommy, I've been looking all over for this," Eena said as she showed me a copy of her referral photo.

Baba: "I'm hungry. I want M&Ms." ... Hubby: "Here's some fruit instead."

Merry Christmas

Eena and Baba are having a wonderful Christmas. Their favorite things? A $1 plastic recorder instrument that Santa found at Toys R Us, and a $1 Baby Doll from Wal-mart. I love that parents don't have to spend a lot on children who are 2 and 3 to really make kids happy.

When they're teenagers, it'll be another story...

Baba's a big girl

After Baba's potty-training success, we've torn down the fourth wall (of the crib, that is) and turned it into a big-girl bed. Baba couldn't be happier. Eena is also happy to have a partner in crime to read books and build forts with (instead of sleeping).

A very merry half-birthday to you

On Oct. 6, Eena turned 3 1/2 so naturally we celebrated her half-birthday. Eena and Baba each had a half-cupcake.

Snotgate Fall 2009

We were doing good in our journey to the end of naptime until Eena got sick. Yes, that season is here again. After having a pretty good sick-free summer, I forgot about the sniffles, sneezes and giant snot fests that erupt from the noses of my daughters. Baba is more sniffles, and Eena is more snot fest. We kept her home from preschool the other day. Anyway, she needed a short nap (hello, car!) the last few days.

Before Snotgate Fall 2009 started, I took Eena and Baba for their first Ballerina Tea Party class at Sprouts in HP. The girls loved it! They got to wear their leotards, and, once there, donned tutus and crowns. They loved dancing with pom-poms, ribbons and scarves to girly-girl music. Toward the end of class, the students have a tea party where they drink water from play cups and eat graham crackers. I have to take pictures next week.

Buh-bye to naps, preschool update and Baba too

Eena hasn't cried the last two weeks of preschool. While she still doesn't want me to leave, she's excited to see what adventures await her in the classroom. This past Wednesday, she had her first "Show and Tell Day." I got to be there as she told her peers all about her Fisher-Price flashlight that she loves. Later at home, she asked if she could bring another toy to "Show and Tell." She was a little disappointed that it's not her turn every day.

I think today may officially be the end of her nap. Over the last 6 months, Eena's nap has decreased from one hour to 30 minutes. The last several days, she's had a tough time waking up from her nap. Yesterday, she had a meltdown that lasted about an hour. Today, when she started to get sleepy, I gave her some mango lemonade. She wasn't tired after that! The best part? She went to sleep right away tonight.

Baba has been working on her letters, and she's recognizing more and more now. She's also started to tell us more when she has to go potty. I think we're going to try having her wear underwear next week. I think.

1st day of preschool

Eena was scared, nervous and excited for preschool to begin as of this morning. Yesterday, we had an orientation, and I think that helped. She told me she was ready to leave for preschool this morning. Right when we said goodbye at the preschool door, she started to cry. It broke my heart. I, like every mother, hate to see my baby cry. Walking out the door--and not consoling her--was tough. I stood outside until she stopped crying. The teacher called me and let me know that Eena stopped crying after two minutes and was doing great. I have 25 minutes until I pick her up, and I can't wait to see her. I can't wait to hear all about her day!

Preschool blues

Eena has preschool orientation in one week, and she officially starts next Wednesday. Yesterday, we were watching "Sesame Street" and a segment called "Preschool Musical" came on. Eena told me she doesn't like preschool and doesn't want to go because Mommy won't be there. I told her she'll have fun and make friends. She's not convinced.

Today, we are meeting one of the other 3-year-old girls in her class for a playdate. Afterward, I'm going to drive her by her school again. After we attend orientation next week, I'm planning on taking her for a big-girl lunch to celebrate her preschool status.

I'm not looking forward to the transition because I know she'll cry. However, I know she'll love preschool once she gives it a chance.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Baba!

Baba had a great 2nd birthday with her cousins and sister. After enjoying a cupcake and dinner with at their cousins' house, Eena and Baba went to an indoor playground because it was raining. We had the place to ourselves because, well, who really goes to indoor playgrounds in the summer? It seems like just yesterday that Baba was born (check out her newborn picture).

Baba's birthday party

Baba turns 2 on Thursday, but we had her birthday party over the weekend. The highlight for her was finally seeing the Brobee cake that I promised her for months. She also loved the Brobee doll that her Auntie gave her.

Airport, Athens and airplanes

We spent the rest of the day waiting around the hotel—in the lobby, in the room. D napped with Baba. Waiting. We finally left the hotel at about 8 p.m., anxious to return to Athens, and ready to kill an hour or two at the Lemnos Airport before our 10:40 p.m. flight. The airport—relatively clean but stuttered with persistent flies—was a long rectangle with duty-free catalogs glossy under the fluorescent light. We ate pistachios—the kids working faster to consume than I could shell, and D took Eena and Baba for a stroll outside under the now slowly cooling sunset. And so we prepared to depart.

The first sign that something was amiss came from a Greek pharmaceutical salesman, on a business trip to Lemnos, who told D in broken English about Olympic Airways’ recent problems. He also tried to repeatedly hug the children—which seemed to terrify them (and me). Before long, the boarding time came and went, and we spent the night at the Lemnos Airport. We finally left for Athens at 5 a.m. Luckily, at about 2 a.m., the kids fell asleep in their strollers—which D retrieved with some hassle from the Olympic Airways backroom.

My dad, D and I passed the waiting time by talking with a Canadian woman Jenny who also had Lemnian roots. Jenny recently quit her public relations job to pursue an acting career (she did some voice-over work in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”). Fluent in Greek and English, she was also extremely helpful in calling our Athens cab company several times to explain that we’d be late. They had simply hung up on D the two times he called and asked with his best effort, “Milas Anglika?” (do you speak English?).

When we finally arrived at our Athens hotel around 6:30 a.m., the five of us crashed like flaming stockcars. My dad, D and I had visited Athens before, so we didn’t feel the urge to spend our single layover day carrying Eena and Baba up Acropolis in the unseemly heat. Instead, we spent the morning at the rooftop pool.

That evening, we met Marina Harami, the author of a 3-volume genealogical book (in Greek) on Haramis families all over the world. Marina e-mailed me several years ago, and I provided her information for her book. She was extremely helpful in arranging for us to meet our Lemnos relatives, and for our face-to-face meeting. She brought us a selection of delicious Greek chocolate, which Eena and Baba devoured with furious abandon. Within 10 minutes, they were flailing wildly on the hotel carpet while D went “fishing” for them with a gold ribbon. Eena was not pleased to hear that real fishing used hooks to strike the mouth of the fish, as she had previously thought the fish just sort of rolled into a line and without harm were lifted to land before their glorious splashback to the sea. D took the opportunity to make a point of vegetarianism to the now heavily wired children. Baba chanted, repeatedly, “I get crazy crazy.”

With the kids thus distracted by D, I was able to listen to Marina’s vast knowledge of all things Haramis. First, I discovered that she goes by Harami because that’s the female version of Haramis. We also learned about the family’s storied roots. It seems the family can be traced to Peloponnesia (Mani) around the year 1500, when they lost a sort of tribal war with the other prominent family—and so dispersed throughout Greece. The family also were pirates (arrgh) and brigands at some point—“Haramis” may mean “one who steals”—but we also had members decorated as war heroes in the early 1700s. Marina indicated that the family, most likely under a different surname, is believed to have existed even earlier—perhaps as early as 1200—under the Byzantine Empire.

Marina kindly drove us to the suburb of Athens called Paraskevi, and in a near-exhausted state, we ate at our first U.S. restaurant, Pizza Hut. It was good to eat some non-Greek food for one day, and this Pizza Hut was considerably more upscale than its U.S. cousin. Marina brought us to Paraskevi Square and a playground (which was crowded at 10 p.m.), and the girls gleefully frolicked in the dark among other children.

The next morning we woke up early (3:30 am), flew to Paris and then back home. En route to Chicago, we sat next to a father and his 11-month-old son. The boy’s mother had left them in France to fly to a conference in New England, leaving the father, a professor, to watch his son alone for what seemed like the first time. D (world’s greatest dad) was horrified when the other dad told him he really only needs to spend limited amounts of time with his kid because anyone—and primarily his mother-in-law—can entertain his child at this early age. His work, he told D, held a place of great importance and so necessitated that he take a more removed view of parenting. The job, you wonder: a research professor in rehabilitative studies at a local university. D did his best, for the sake of airplane calm, to not completely pick apart this logic.

The girls did pretty well on the flight (sleeping for at least two hours)—but Eena and Baba were thrilled to get back home, ride their bikes, and play with their toys. Although we had a great time in Europe—with adventures to last us until our next trip across the pond—we were glad to return to the comforts of readily available soy milk, soft beds and the warm welcome of our Greek-named cat, Cassiopeia.

Last day in paradise

Today, we met Kostas for a return trip to Portianou where we met more cousins. Evengelia and her ailing father Yiannis Haramis (the last living Haramis male in the area) welcomed us into their home for cherry juice (Eena was thrilled). Evengelia and my dad are either second or third cousins. We met one of her sons (she has four in their 40s) and Kostas’ uncle Harry. We then waited over an hour for a taxi to arrive. When the taxi arrived, someone was sitting in the passenger’s seat, so Kostas, Dad, D, Eena, Baba and I all sat in the back seat as the car made its way down the long, windy mountainous road. Today, we discovered that Kostas’ grandmother used to be the mayor of Myrina in the 1990s. Eena feel asleep on Kostas’ lap, another sure sign that our new cousin has so quickly become a happy face for the kids.

The rest of the day, we napped, played ping-pong and just rested as we enjoyed our last day in Limnos. Tonight, we have a late flight to Athens (where we’ll spend the day tomorrow).

During our trip, Eena and Baba said/learned new things. Eena doggie paddled with floaties yesterday for the first time. Baba now says: “I mean it.” … “Really.” … and “I’m hungry.” Both girls learned to speak a little Greek as well, particularly “Yiasou” (hello to you, and goodbye, as well) and Epharisto (pronounced here, “faristo”) meaning thank you.

Tour de force

Yesterday, we ventured on an all-day bus tour of the island under what turned out to be a punishing sun. The tour of about 20 people (mainly Brits and Aussies), traveled all over the island, with stops at the wondrous but only partially excavated city of Poliochni—perhaps the oldest city ruins in Europe (approximately 6,000 years BC). The kids found a rebuilt small dwelling amid the cross-cross of wooden boards, and immediately took occupancy perhaps not unlike their sea-faring predecessors so many millennia ago.

We next stopped at Kotsinas—site of small chapel in the midst of heavy remodeling. The real find, though, was below the modest shrine, where steep stone stairs descending several hundred feet led to an underground well containing holy water. Evidently, the underground passage was discovered in the 1800s, along with a Byzantine-looking religious icon. So it was assumed to be holy water, and hence the church was built on the site. There was also a statue of a woman with a sword over the water here—a sort of Limnos Joan-of-Arc, who rally the people during an earlier war with the Turks.

My dad and me, along with the others, drank holy water. D, being Jewish, did not drink the water. Although after I told him that it’s suppose to heal all ailments, he gave it a second thought but still refused. I didn’t take the girls down the steep staircase because it was a small space. However, I did place some holy water on their foreheads.

We also drove past the ancient city of Ifestia—complete with its famed theater—but we couldn’t get off the bus because the road was too rocky. We stopped nearby at the wonderful Kavirio—a partially excavated temple complex. Here, ancient peoples worshipped the Kaberoi, half-mortal descendants of Hephestus, who was thrown by his angry father Zeus to the island as an exile from Mount Olympus. This formerly volcanic island was said to contain the forger of Hephestus, and a complicated mystery cult—with human and animal sacrifice—thrived during the ancient period.

Toward the end of our tour, we visited the small town of Portianou, and saw the house where Winston Churchill lived during WWI when he was planning the ill-fated Battle of Gallipoli.

We closed with lunch over Zamatas beach, where our exhausted crew refueled with a feast of rice-stuffed peppers and tomatoes, grilled eggplant (which Baba quickly inhaled), and, for the coup-de-grace, sweet-but-slightly warm watermelon—thankful to be sheltered, at least for the time, from the throbbing Aegean sun.

My life in ruins, Limnos style

One thing I can always count on my husband, D, to do is to push me—from pushing me into a bet to date him or to climbing the Great Wall of China when I was 3 months pregnant; he’s always challenging me.

Yesterday, our day began in a relaxing manner: eating breakfast, playing ping-pong and swimming. Then we took a cab to what I thought would be a leisurely walk around the Venetian castle that overlooks the city of Myrinna. It turns out that there is no paved path, just a rocky climb up a mountain where wild goats and deer wander. My smart dad (so wise) decided to stay at the bottom and guard the strollers as D, Eena, Baba and I climbed up a treacherous course. Huffing and puffing, we reached the first major plateau, but would’ve had to climb more rocks to reach the rest of the castle ruins. It was at that point that I said: “no more.” The kids and I were exhausted. Eena and I were petrified that a goat was going to attack us. D spotted a cave and took Baba to explore with him as Eena and I unwrapped our reward lollipops. Luckily, the stench and swarm of mosquitoes kept D and Baba from venturing too far into the cave. D and I climbed down with each of us holding one of our daughters (and their reward lollipops).

Afterward, we walked into town, bought some more souvenirs and the girls found the playground again (later, when we passed it at 10:30p.m., it was filled with kids playing in the dark). We met Despina and Kostas for dinner at 8, which was way early for them because they usually eat dinner at midnight! Kostas’ mother Electra and Despina’s friend (an ex-pat from England) also sat with us. I say “sat” because only Despina ate. It was a fantastic Italian restaurant right along the water. We asked Kostas all about what life for a 16 year old is like (we were wrong about his age in previous entries). He has two more years of high school left, he takes additional classes outside of school, he has a girlfriend, he’s in a band and he loves American heavy metal and punk music (he was wearing a Ramones shirt).

After D told him about our castle climb, Kostas said that it’s very dangerous at night: he’s heard stories about everything from drug-users to un-Godly people hurting those poor goats and deer. Scary! All I could think about was that creepy cave D and Baba almost explored.

Thankfully, D’s equally reliable good sense prevailed over his urge to explore.

More Tsmandria photos

Read about our Tsmandria adventure in the previous entry.

Back to the Old Country

Around 10 a.m., we met Despina Bogdanou and her 17-year-old grandson Konstantio (Kostas) in our hotel lobby. They are related to us on the Haramis side of the family. After a mild fiasco with the local rental car company (who drives manual these days?—oh yes, much of the non-U.S. world…) We took two taxis through a series of mountainous bypasses (yes, we saw a shepherd with a small flock of sheep), followed by hairpin maneuvers down narrow village roads. If we had succeeded in renting the car, we would have neither found our destination nor been able to navigate the terrain.

We arrived as the village of Tsmandria--the town my grandparents were born and raised. We were only about 15 minutes away from where we’re staying, but we may have well crossed into a universe completely different from the tourist resort on Platy beach and the relative urbanity the capital, Myrina (6,000 of the island’s 18,000 people). Kostas speaks English and translated as much as he could for us. It was difficult for him to translate at times because the relatives spoke so fast. Imagine three radio stations simultaneously blaring different Greek channels—but speeded up by some mash-up deejay, and well, you get the idea. Kostas said a few times, when we asked what was being said, “Nothing very interesting…”

In Tsmandria, we met my grandmother’s side of the family. We were greeted warmly by my grandmother’s sister Auntie Paraskevi (80-something) and her husband Theofani (82). We sat in their home, drank orange soda and met their grandson Vailos. Both Paraskevi and Theofani look fantastic for their age. Theofani credited his years as an octopus and lobster fisherman to his youthful look. My father couldn’t believe how much Auntie Paraskevi looked like his mother (who passed away in 1985). I couldn’t believe how much my father looked like Auntie Paraskevi. She told my dad that his mother Malama mentioned him often, which he was happy to hear. Theo spoke about everything—from fishing to my grandmother—with intensity appropriate to a hostage crisis, waving his arms and shouting.

The highlight of the visit: Auntie Paraskevi showed us the giant Victorola that my grandfather Christos brought over from New York when he returned to Limnos to meet and marry my grandmother. I’ve heard the story my whole life, but seeing the RCA Victrola in person was mythical and magical, and hearing it play an ancient record speeded up or distorted or aged or to sound like Greek “Alvin and the Chipmunks” had all of us swaying to the music (see previous entry for Davis’ jerky video of Victrola and Paraskevi).

As we left the house, Paraskevi’s grandson, shirtless and in a ball cap, led a donkey down the street for the kids to see. He cajoled the animal from the end of a long rope, and seemed pleased to no end when I earlier gave him a lollipop.

We also visited my dad’s second cousin Anthoula, who, we did not know about until she appeared at the end of the street warmly greeting us. She spoke excellent English because she used to live in New York City, where she worked for Jewish furriers for many years. She has children and grandchildren in New York City and New Jersey, and she seems to travel frequently in those places, Athens, and Limnos (where she has a house in Myrina and also Tsimandria.) Anthoula’s mother and my grandmother were first cousins. She gave us Greek coffee and cookies, and the kids marveled at her busy Mediterranean décor and old baking oven now converted into a smaller unit in the corner of her well-appointed but rustic kitchen.

Before we left, we also visited with another second cousin Despina and her husband Voutsae. They had a beautifully lush garden in front of their house, with flowers and lime trees. They served us fresh cherry juice—a sweet mix with candied dark cherries sunk at the bottom of tall water glasses, which we happily mixed—and which Eena and Baba loved, especially when we poured the excess in their cups for the trip back.

Our last stop, to wait for our cab, took us to Haramis Square. The main town-square was named after John Haramis, an ancestor who, it seems, was a builder who constructed much of the town and square. We were thrilled to discover that the square was named after a Haramis—and that the family name lives on so strongly in the life of this small village.

Later this week, we plan on taking Despina Bogdanou and Kostas to dinner to thank them for taking us to Tsmandria and translating. Also, Baba—who has stranger anxiety—loved Kostas and let him hold her hand to cross the street, and also pick her up!

We asked Baba if she made a new friend in Kostas, and she answered enthusiastically with a yes. Eena said “I made the same friend too!,” demonstrating that her newfound cousin has also found a place in her heart.

Christos' victrola

First day in paradise

While everyone napped, Eena and I watched young cousins from Australia play ping-pong. Like me, their grandparents are also from Limnos; it seems that many Greeks from the island of Limnos emigrated to either the U.S. or Australia during the mid-20th Century, and I have distant relative down under as well.

Eena and I also went to the expansive Plati Beach—which is a minute walk across from our hotel—and she loved it, raking her legs deliriously through the sand.

We returned to our room and woke everyone up; turns out, Davis had not slept, but has managed to write a bit and finalized rental car arrangements for our next two days.

We hurried to take our resort’s shuttle to Myrina (the capital of Limnos—and a neighboring port city on the southwestern side of the island). Myrina Castle, where wild deer evidently carouse in the empty fortress, hangs high above this city of approximately 6,000. We walked through the harbor—past the prominent “Limnos Hotel” which looked a bit like a wild-west façade, and then slowly meandered up a long street of tourist shops and local restaurants and businesses. We managed to buy some snacks for the kids and a few souvenir trinkets.

Most of the shopkeepers spoke English and were very friendly (we had been informed by our cabbie the night before that almost everyone under 50 speaks English, and we have certainly found this to be the case). We reached the top of the street, which formed a considerable incline from the harbor, and made a quick left toward a glimmer of ocean.

Just a few hundred feet parallel to the street of shops we discovered a breathtaking vista on the water. We had somehow journeyed to the other side of the town as Myrina Castle now rose behind us. A series of waterfront restaurants overlooked the Aegean from a height of approximately 20 feet. We spotted a playground, with old-fashioned wooden swings with backs (eliciting, from Baba, a happy cry of “I swing in a chair! I swing in a chair!). Apa gazed into the distance at a stark white church rising under the castle. Needless to say, the girls were less-than-happy to be pulled from their see-sawing to return to the shuttle.

We finished the day at the resort’s buffet dinner at approximately 8:30, clearly adapting to European meal schedules.

Tomorrow, we have a full schedule. We’ll head to Tsmandria and meet relatives on both my grandmother’s and grandfather’s side—starting with a distant (17-year-old) cousin who will arrive via moped at 10 am, along with his grandmother, to serve as our translator.

We hope also to discover the two squares named for the Haramis family!

See previous entry for more photos.