mama mich's tales

My son is a sinner and I'm an even bigger one!

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 06:07:00 +0000

Mich turned 8 today.
He wants a toy with batteries, one that he can connect to electricity - hint hint. As a little boy making every effort to fit into a new culture and constantly finding himself at a loss, I give him the credit.

He is saying “I’m growing. I need more challenge. These toys were fun but now, they don’t cut it”. It’s all about the Nintendo DS or something similar.

Mich is fun! Especially when he starts throwing those unexpected questions;
Mich: Daddy, does a fish have a heart?
Daddy: Now that is not something I ever got round to thinking about.

Mich: What would happen if we didn’t have saliva?
Daddy: We would not eat or swallow, we would die.

He is complex too. I can’t wrap my mind around him;- extremely moody, sensitive and self concious. His outburst are for world cup! If things don’t go as he planned, he is a wreck! But he is learning about self control.
He is afraid of injections. He will repent of past, present and future mistakes, when he sees a needle.
He unnerves me and presses buttons I never knew existed. At times I get so upset my blood boils, my face warms up, my eyes go red and it feels like I’ll explode or have a fit. At times I’m so raw I pray for sanity. Other times I feel like I have failed him. There are moments I listen to our conversations and it’s hard to tell who’s in charge. I want to shape him, I try, but those notes from his teacher make we want to give up.
Raising a child is hard! Keeping a balance between love and discipline is even harder. I drift to extremes, more towards discipline than affection.

He disobeys, He is disruptive and sometimes he does some really silly things. We talk about it; I ask questions, I listen, I teach, I explain, we pray. He says “Mummy, it is hard! I know what I’m supposed to do but I don’t want to do it. I try but I end up doing what is wrong.” He tries to do good but evil seems the only alternative. It takes me to Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapter 7:21.
21 So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. 22 For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; 23 but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 24 What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? 25 Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

The other day he said "Sometimes I wish I didn't exist". I felt sad! I started thinking of ways to encourage him when I asked, "Like when?", then he says "Like when I get in trouble" I nearly said "welcome to the club!" how many times have I messed up and wished the ground would swallow me in that instant?!

He is a sinner. Mostly I deny it because I’m embarrassed by his behavior and I'm selfishly concerned about what “they” will think of me. He may not be the teacher’s favorite - the goody two shoes. His room may be a tangible version of chaos (despite our efforts to teach him how to be organised). It feels like teenage has come early but it’s alright! I’ma pray! I’ma do my best and ask Jesus to save his soul and mine too, for I’m a bigger sinner.

He is sweet and curious.
He loves his sister to bits but sometimes I think he could trade her for a holiday.
He is crazy about Science, experiments and discovery. He wants a pet; one day it’s a whale, the next a newt, then a snake, then a gecko, a micro fish and so on. I love the way he pronounces scientific names like he's talking about his buddies.
His handwriting has improved; he doesn’t complain so much about writing anymore - probably figured he was fighting a losing battle. He’s got a great sense of humor and likes to crack jokes.
He loves to read, his concentration is fierce, like the pages were food and he a starved tramp. He ends up with a splitting headache and nibbled finger nails, don’t so much as cough in such a situation for it is a certain precursor to an intense meltdown.
He pays attention to detail and is very careful about things that matter to him; cub scouts, his books, pleasing his friends ...

Did I say he is very serious? A week ago he told his dad how upset he was that his brain was as small as a grape (something he had read). His dad had to clarify that that meant a grape fruit not a grape.

Each day I pray for better understanding and insight, God knows I need it. I’m going to burn the midnight oil and keep on the front page news in heaven. I realise I can't do this parenting job with out Him, my failures and faults glare back at me and I want to disappear - run away.

A letter to my single girl friends

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 02:47:00 +0000

Dear SLs’,

Every so often you come to mind, like a butterfly settling on a flower. I mean, I can be there reading a book or going about my crazy life and then boom! You are on my mind. Did I say this happens often? because it does. I yearn to say so much but I’m afraid it might spill out the wrong way.

My thoughts towards you get tender with each passing day. I prayed for you yesterday. I was listening to a sermon in church when you floated into my mind.

I remembered getting home one Christmas day; beat from dancing at the Christmas Cantata (must have been 1999). I’d had so much fun, I fell asleep. But there was a guy on my mind! Life was just complicated! I
wanted God to sort things out and my oh my! Did I pray?! It seemed like every moment was consumed with thoughts of - “God if he is the one let him say”, “If he is not the one, take him away!” That evening UTV screened “Fiddler on the Roof” and just to stress my point the girls sang a most interesting song “Match maker, match maker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch” – I took it to the next level, even God must have said “ho!!” Like Jacob I said “I will not let go until you bless me”.

My story aside, I was thinking, if I went through that kind of intensity back then, what has it been like for you through the years?

Time has flown by, another birthday approaches and there is no one to speak of. The clock has “tick-tocked” more times than you care and insensitive people increase the volume with their snide remarks. You have fasted and prayed but it seems God has another plan.

The little bu gals you saw in Sunday school are happily walking down the aisle, in fact they call to say “Auntie, I’m engaged! The wedding meetings are …” It sucks! I mean, yes you are happy for them but …

Married girl friends are discussing tubal ligation - officially closing the chapter nga you, you haven’t experienced the joy of carrying life in your womb. You might want to cry and scream “Why? Lord, why?”

You have given your heart - you want to give your heart. It’s burning with desire and longing, if only the right guy would come along – you’ve got so much love to give, it’s over flowing. See, that’s the way God made us women, we were born to love, to nurture - it feels like the wells are being wasted. “If only he could show up NOW!!! I’ll give him the children, I’ll cook the food, I’ll do everything”.

You sober up when couples who’ve been together since before, before, whisper they are getting a divorce or separation. Before you know it Kardashians are popping out of every corner. The question – “naye is marriage worth it?? Kubanga what I have seen bambi kyimpitirideko!!!!!”

Isaiah 53:6 “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; …” we have all sinned and fallen short. Concentrate on working out your own salvation with fear and trembling. God has a different plan for every one of us.
You say, “Sister so and so has got it all; a good job, a great husband, cute babies - boys and girls even. On top of all that, she is constantly swatting guys off like flies”. Then you say “but it’s not fair, at least if I was smitten with half her problems”. Be careful! You don’t know half her story.

I Corinthians 7:32 – 35 says
"I want you to live as free of complications as possible. When you're unmarried, you're free to concentrate on simply pleasing the Master. Marriage involves you in all the nuts and bolts of domestic life and in wanting to please your spouse, leading to so many more demands on your attention. The time and energy that married people spend on caring for and nurturing each other, the unmarried can spend in becoming whole and holy instruments of God. I'm trying to be helpful and make it as easy as possible for you, not make things harder. All I want is for you to be able to develop a way of life in which you can spend plenty of time together with the Master without a lot of distractions."

Putting all these issues into consideration, guaranteed, I don’t have answers, there is no formula but I know God is not sleeping, He doesn’t make mistakes and He definitely has His eye on you so…wait patiently! You may be tempted to pull a “Ruth” move, please do but only as the Lord leads you. In the mean time …

Soak yourself in God and His word, in your passions, your relationships, and your talents; maximize every moment that life presents to you. Don’t hold back!
a) Keep yourself pure.
b) Cut the weight! “The Curious Case of Benjamin Burton” was just that, a curious case! On top of that it was a movie, so really no chance that we’ll grow backwards. Things start getting loose and stuff. Sickness tends to lurk in those pouches and as we grow older we are more prone (cancer, fibroids, cysts…). So, eat healthy, do a little exercise, go for a medical checkup, you’ll feel better about yourself and save us all some crying time. Do this for you!
c) Find the things that make you tick and enlarge that territory.
May God meet you! Don’t be desperate to marry, be desperate for God.

Love you deeply!!!

M

The commute!

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 16:17:00 +0000

6:20a.m: I unlock the door. The morning chill hits me - brrrrrr!
It’s dark outside. The noise of cars whizzing past fills the air – do these people ever sleep? It's a comfort none the less, see, I’m not the only insane person. I trot to the bus stop.

6:25a.m the bus rolls up, I step in, say good morning to the bus driver while I swipe my card. Beep! Good! I still have some units. I look around for a spot to nestle for the next half hour or so. Fellow commuters hurdle in corners trying to catch the last dregs of sleep, others take the chance to read a book. Silence! - except for the vroom of the bus. Forget your taxi radios tuned in to Cha Ba Sa. leave us in peace! Who says we want to listen to what you want? Head phones hello?!

7:05a.m: The bus pulls up at the train station. Those who were drowsing wake up, pick their bags and make quick footsteps to the train tunnel. News paper guys, jolly as ever, handout the daily journal to whomever cares to stretch out their hand. Jackets and coats of every tribe jump up and down, and twirl around the metro area. Pockets of people stop by the metro machines to recharge their cards. I swipe my metro card and make a dash down the stairs to the waiting train. Commuters continue to walk the side of the rail. Then the auto announcement“Ding dong! Please step back, doors closing!” the last few dart in just in time. Train is headed to New Carrollton. Over 15 stops on the way, one of them is mine.
Papers flip endlessly as the curious and the bored and the I’ve-got-to-pass-this-time-constructively read the news of the day; Presidential campaigns are sizzling, who snatched an Oscar nomination? We know just the place to do a lipo suction and what is showing in the cinema kind of news.

7:30a.m: Farragut West! That’s my stop. I wade through the standing commuters to make it off the train. Climb up the escalator, swipe my card, up another escalator and I’m finally out in the open air. Woosh! It’s chilly! The winds wake me up, a not so subtle reminder that “it’s still winter people!”

Someone is walking in some direction. Tap tap tap! We wait for the traffic light to show the white man, so we can all walk across.

I have 20 minutes of me time before the work day begins. 8:00am,9,10,11,12 break!1,2,3,4,5:00p.m, I’ve got to head home!

I grab my coat, my bag, my lunch box and I'm out the door (on a good day).

5:20p.m: Escalator, swipe card, escalator. Fellow commuters line the rails waiting for the train. Here it comes! I’ve got to wait for passengers to get off before I can get on. “Ding dong, ding dong! Please step back, doors closing!” I’m in. Hmmm! all seats are taken, so I steady myself and hold onto the centre bar. Many of us are standing, taking care to give personal space. Don’t look directly at anyone unless of course you know them. So we look above their head, admire our shoes, read a book, check our phones, close our eyes, peer into space. The ride can be bumpy, the driver may slam the brakes suddenly, just be sure to have a firm grip and steady your legs. Someone leaves, I get a seat. I’m thinking about the next leg of my commute.

6:00p.m: We reach my station. I trek with the crowd, hurry up the escalator, swipe the card, dash to the bus stop. Oh! The line is long but organized, just join in at the back of the queue and wait (this might sound preposterous in some countries I know). Other times I have to sprint to the bus, worst scene is watching it drive away before you get there.

6:05p.m: The bus arrives. We walk in single file, swipe our cards, sit down and face forward. Many are tired so they doze off, but mostly they read a book, check their phones or stare out the window. You know the African when your eyes meet, they are usually looking around and into people faces. Normally, you can get on the bus half naked and no one will butt an eyelid, they will go on as though they haven’t seen you. Just like the drivers on the road, never looking left or right to see who is driving passed. But the African will continue looking around, reminds me of some people back home, you would think every driver and passenger is searching your car for their long lost friend.

6:30p.m: The bus arrives at the ‘Park and ride’. No one can stand the bus anymore, they’ve got to leave. They step off and I immediately see lights and hear beeps of every kind. Before the car door closes, the engine is raving, the car is moving and they are all gone, as if escaping a ferocious beast. Maybe it’s too cold, maybe time is too precious, maybe they are too tired and can’t wait to get home and rest. Tomorrow, we start the process again, the next day and the next and the …

Work: Week 2

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 19:45:00 +0000

Just when I begun questioning, things got better and this is how.
Everyday I got on the bus and worried helplessly about my children: Would they be okay? Would be they be loved and taken care of? Would Amani heal from her illness? Would I get back in time to pick them up?

My bible study one morning stated it this way : "Consider the lilies of the field" – they grow where they are put. Many of us refuse to grow where we are put, consequently we take root nowhere. Jesus says that if we obey the life God has given us, He will look after all the other things"
Drops of wisdom begun to sink into my heart.
a) To be grateful for the opportunity to work for this "prestigious" organisation. To embrace the opportunity and get rooted.
b) I'm not the one who keeps my children alive and well, God is. I need to trust Him with them. At times I'm tempted to think "I got this!" because I'm around them, forgetting that God is in charge.
The Sunday sermon was from Luke 10:41- 42: “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

The point? Relax in me, look for me, dwell in me - that's what's better.
I felt the bar of worry melt away - like acid eating metal, the heaviness lifted.

Now, I'm human and from time to time I catch myself worrying and like a restless child who has been told to sit in one place, I have to pick my thoughts up and take them back to where they belong - At the Cross.

1st week at work, sickness, chaos and such

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 14:01:00 +0000

The wait was excruciating, one week seemed like a month and oh! how the days dragged as I waited for the phone call. Every time my phone rung my heart raced until finally there was an email. You've got the job! I was super excited.
Night before I report for work: Amani throws up and coughs to no end, she finally sleeps.
First day: I was up at 5:30am, jumped on the bus at 6:25am, onto the train at 7:05am, was at the office by 7:50am. Sam sorted out the kids, got Amani dressed, pushed Mich a long, dropped him off at school, got Amani to day care and rushed off to work.
Turns out they were not expecting me yet (long story). I headed home. Got a call from the day care - Amani was not well at all. God's ways! I'm glad I could pick her up. While she was home taking a nap, I received a message from office asking me to start the next day. Damn!! I was hoping for a free week, especially with Amani sick and stuff. I was beginning to feel sick too.
Next day, I was back on the bus, then the train and so on. Got to office, processed my ID, whizzed through the maze of corridors to my desk, just in time for a meeting where I was asked to take minutes. My brain was spinning with all the jargon but I managed to make some sense of it, it helped me catch up on the goings on.
My day was done at 5pm, there was a delay with the train, I got to the day care at 6:30, walked through the crazy cold, got home 6:50pm, went straight to the kitchen, put food on the fire, dashed up to shower Amani (who was slowly improving). This time Sam was all sick in the bathroom - something he ate? or maybe Amani's infection spreading??
Back on the trade mill day 2, same routine. Get home exhausted and thinking wow! Is this going to be my life? is it the adjusting pains?
Then I fell sick too, couldn't get out of bed all Saturday. It must have been something we ate. Mich was untouched though.
I would certainly be glad to have a helper, seriously!

Snow white

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 03:35:00 +0000

I’m looking out of the window, watching little magical snowflakes quietly, purposefully, gently, falling to the ground. It’s beautiful. It’s cold.

It’s calming to gaze on from the warmth of my room, exciting too for little kids just breaking off from school and skipping along with glee. Their thirst finally quenched for long they waited. December came and there was nothing, Christmas day too. “Oh! What is Christmas without snow?” they asked. Now they smile for it comes with the New Year!
Mich is bouncing off the walls as usual, looking forward to snow ball fights; Amani's first snow experience and she doesn't quite know what to make of it. Judging from her brother's gymnatics, she figures it's something to be excited about.

I love snow when it first falls. It’s fresh. It’s new. It’s crisp. It’s clean. It’s White.
Reminds me of David’s prayer in Psalm 51
“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow”

Isaiah 1:18
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”

So when snow falls, it is a reminder that I have a redeemer whose blood cleanses me from my sin and guilt, leaving me pure and clean - whiter that snow.

Aging with(out) the Stars.

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 19:04:00 +0000

You know that time is doing its thing when suddenly the Baroness in “Sound of music” looks young and nicely shaped. Leisl, Captain Von Trapp’s oldest daughter reminds you of your days in high school and Gretl, well, little Gretl is another version of your daughter. Yup! You’ve been around that long, and your favorite movie characters have kept themselves looking feisty.

You reminesce on good times by watching “Gold Finger” and you can’t get over how young James Bond was and yet at the time, he and Captain Von Trapp were your dad’s age mates. We will skip Arnold and Willis in “Different Strokes” because Louis and Mr. Jefferson are now your contemporaries.

I cherish the emotions that get triggered when I watch these classics. I imagine life as an elevator and these movies a constant. At the beginning you are looking up, 10 years later you’re face to face; in another 10 years your gaze is slightly tilted downwards, 10 years after that you are literally bowed down looking at your feet. In quiet moments you wonder whether a) you look as good, b) you have accomplished as much, c) you've used all your talents adequately d) if it’s too late and your window has closed.

The "What to expect" series book review

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 19:42:00 +0000

Books: What to expect the first year and What to expect the second year.
Authors: Heidi Murkoff, Sharon Mazel, Arlene Eisenberg & Sandee Hathaway

After reading “What to expect when you’re expecting”, you bring baby home and wonder what to do with the cute buddle of joy (sometimes not so much joy).

Well, Heidi Murkoff wrote another book “What to expect the first year” she has done the research for you. She points out baby's development month by month and blends it with the mother's (and fathers) challenges and questions at this delicate stage. Having all this information sprinkled with questions from parents makes it all more real. Parents are able to identify.

This book has been extremely resourceful for me especially considering that Sam and I were relocating with a baby; from how to find a good pediatrician to looking after my body after baby, “What to expect The First Year” has it all. The humor with which Heidi writes can turn your sullen look into a smile particularly when you’re dealing with issues like a cranky baby who won’t sleep at night. I particularly appreciate that all the information is backed up with medical research from the best childrens hospitals in America.

I like that she covers angles like adoption and how to prepare for it and possible challenges on the journey. She gives an in-depth look at children with special needs, this is helpful not only for their parents but it’s informative so others can understand and know how to be helpful.

I definitely recommend it for new parents. Best if you get all three series: “What to expect when you’re expecting”, “What to expect the first year” and “What to expect the second year”. You can also visit the what to expect website here.

Now that Amani is approaching her second birthday, Sam and I are constantly flipping through the pages of “What to expect the second year” to see what to expect. Sometimes it’s to understand what we are already seeing or to gauge whether Amani is on track with what children her age are expected to be doing. Yes, we are drawing closer to potty training, day care, wellness visits, tantrums and the joys of toddler hood. These books have been and continue to be an amazingly helpful guide for us as parents raising little people.

If you are expecting, know someone expecting, has just had a child, or whose child just celebrated a first birthday, these would be wonderful gifts that they would find resourceful and remember you for.

Heidi has got her work cut out for her, I hoping she is on the drawing board writing something for 6 and 7 year olds. Mich is such a riddle lately, maybe she will help solve this puzzle too.

Possibilities and questions

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 21:05:00 +0000

Wow! The New year is here!
I enjoyed December thoroughly.

My daily schedule revolved around waking up around 6:40am read 7:00am, taking a bath, dressing Amani up, packing Mich’s snack and making sure he got to school before 8:00am. Amani and I would then walk back home. On warm days we would take a stroll, on cold days we would dash home and have breakfast after which she would look at me as if to say “aha! And now??” “Can the games begin?”
Most times I couldn’t cook up anything super interesting, we would sing songs, watch a few you tube videos of Elmo, Veggie tales and Barba Papa and then she would follow me around the house. I was constantly putting things back and picking things up because everywhere she went there seemed to be a little tornado. Then it would be time for lunch and then nap time (my favorite period). The house would be quiet, I would think, write some articles and then Mich would come home, she would wake up and then chaos for the next 4 hours until bed time. In the middle of all that, I would cook dinner, give Amani a bath, repeatedly ask Mich to go and bathe, feed them and phew! The bell would ring and Sam would walk through the door.

Now there is a looming possibility of a job placement with my former employer. I’m excited!! But with it come questions like; Who will look after baby girl? Where will Mich spend his afternoons? Will I have to rush home to cook every night? Won’t I be working only to pay for day care??
Issues one doesn't necessarily have to grapple with back in Uganda. Worries there center more around the helper; is she good? does care for the baby? does she have good habits? is she neat? does she do her work well? and such type headaches.

We prayed about it and went to see a possible day care facility almost a stone’s throw away. We liked it, they have after school activities and most of the children are from Mich’s school – I think that is awesome. The icing on the cake was they offer one day of free trial, to see if the kid takes well to it. The timing couldn’t be better because I can happily give baby girl the chance this Tuesday (when I have to go to office).

As for the way things turn out, that will be news for another post.

Hot cross buns!

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 19:12:00 +0000

Well not exactly, but don't they look YUMMMY?

I was so excited when I pulled these out of the oven. I was so proud of myself – I baked bread!
Some of you chefs are thinking "duh!!" But I've got reason to celebrate; a) the buns taste delicious b) the kitchen is not exactly my preffered place of choice c) and most importantly, baking buns used to be a family tradition.
Mum baked bread when I was a kid. We never spent money on bread because there was always home baked bread. The whiff of yeast and flour would fill the house and when the buns were ready mmm mmm! they smelled super delicious. She would glaze them over with some blue band to make them shine and voila!! (big sigh)
Special memories!

On this day 12/27/11, I was able to relive those memories - over 15 years later (that was the last time I baked bread).

You rock mum!!
Thank you for teaching me and giving me the book of recipes. It’s old and falling apart but it works wonders still.

Happy New Year!

Blessings abound and "Santa" came early

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 02:01:00 +0000

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight” Proverbs 3:5 – 6

The Message puts it this way: - Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track.
God continues to brim our cup over. On our journey so far, He has made the paths straight and our feet have fallen in good places.
Our land lord gave us a sofa, a bookshelf and a nice artifact. A friend was returning to her country; she literally gave us her beautiful furniture and then some. Now we are faced with another problem, there is no space for all the things – such a wonderful problem if you asked me.
Wow! That everything would fall in place in such a timely fashion. Not too early that we wouldn’t have a place to keep it and not too late that we wouldn’t need it. I’m amazed and humbled.

Christmas came 6 days early for Mich. With all the dreams and desires of a 7 year old, I didn’t have the ability to fulfill even half of them. Looks like “Santa” is working ahead of schedule this year. I found some incredible toys outside, all in good condition. Paul’s grandma decided to clean out her house and Mich is the happy beneficiary. I haven’t seen him since he got the toys. He is locked up in his room in a wonderful world of discovery. Only God would do that.

I serve a living God!

MERRY CHRISTMAS GOOD PEOPLE!!!

Lost, alone and frightened on the highway

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 18:35:00 +0000

My second stint behind the wheel in this wonderful country had me helplessly lost on the highway, in a stalled car(out of gas/fuel), facing 40 degree temperatures, with a phone out of battery charge at 3:00 am in the morning. I prayed desperately. I sat there bewildered with God as my only hope but even He seemed to have forsaken me (or so I thought). A few cars whizzed past with such energy and speed, I could feel the car shake.
It was an almost ordinary day; I dropped Mich off to school, took Amani to a day care and headed off to an interview. We had a Christmas party that evening and Pat and Ed had happily agreed to look after my little people. Note: The party was in Maryland. Sam took the metro to work and suggested I stay with the car and join him later (since I was proving to be super road savvy).

Maryland is approximately 28 miles out - that on the highway with winding roads can be quite amaze for a first timer like myself. I dropped the kids off and started my journey. It was 5:30pm and it was already dark. I had my phone GPS and a rough idea of where I was going, so I was good. 3 quarters of the way there my battery begun to fail, I couldn’t call Sam because his phone battery was out. I drove into Maryland and stopped at the first gas station to ask for directions. The gentleman told me to head north, pass four traffic lights, turn right and I should be there. I followed his directions for the most part, I turned right and all I could see were shopping malls, petrol stations and busy night life.

I made a stop at a Staples store and asked the first guy I saw. He tried to Google the offices on his iphone but didn’t get very far so I asked a shop attendant who printed out a map for me. He mentioned all these places that didn’t register since I wasn’t from the area but I thought I would just follow the map.

Confession: I’m not good with maps period.

Confession ii: It’s hard to drive and read a map in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar area.

I tried to follow the directions but I was out of my depths. I gate crushed a community party and asked the bar attendant and yaay!!! He told me I was on the right track – one traffic light; make a left turn and viola!

It’s nearly 10:00pm; the likely hood that Sam was still waiting for me was almost zilch. Meanwhile it was the wrong office and they couldn’t assist me whatsoever; didn’t know any other office branches in the area, they couldn’t make any phone calls, I was sick to the stomach.

Obviously my kind friends (Pat and Ed) must have thought we had overly used their kindness to baby sit. It was nearly 11:00pm and I wasn’t able to make any calls, even if I had access to a phone, I didn’t have their number off the top of my head.

I drove to the nearest shopping mall, found a police lady who knew where the next offices were. She printed out more directions and at this point I wanted to scream. Mentioning that I was lost didn’t seem to register with anyone, I should have explained that it was my second time in Maryland, I had been in the country only 3 months and it was my second time behind the wheel by myself.

I try one more time to figure out the place but it’s absolute spaghetti. I was getting more intertwined. I was lost. I decide to try and find my way back home, to something more familiar. But that in itself was a problem. Should I head north, south, east or west????? I ended up in a rich neighborhood with nice houses and was tempted to knock on a door. The problem was, I was so shaken I would have burst out crying and then I imagined sirens going off, guns coming out and who knows what else.

12:00 Am. I’m exhausted, driving out on the highway, not sure whether I was coming or going. All four lanes on the highway are busy; I’m making every effort to stay in my lane. Once or twice there was a hoot. I thought, “let me just get to DC, I’m sure things will get clearer”. Then this guy on a motor bike follows me, every turn I made he was there, I thought, “The police have noted me and are tracking me down”, just at the point, he rode passed.

On the other front, Sam is worried sick, he has called the police to report a lost wife but they can’t do much; don’t know where to start the search. He takes the metro home, the house is stone cold, the kids are still at Pat’s. His heart sinks. He goes to check on the kids and solve a part of the mystery for the kind hosts. They pray, imagine the worst and call the police yet again.

Police man: Are you sure your wife is not at home?
Sam: Yes I’m sure.
(Police man drives home to verify then comes back)
Police man: Does your wife drink? Did you have a disagreement? Is she on drugs?
Sam: No

2:00am. I’m somewhere in the middle of DC, driving like mad, I pass a red light – that sobers me a bit, I slow down. My eyes are heavy, my stomach is empty, I have been on the road for 8 hours. Finally the routes start to make sense. All the while the numbers 495, 270, i95, 29, 66 are ringing in my head, I just don’t know which direction to go – this is absolute chaos! Those of you who know how to read maps are probably thinking “what the shamika was she up to???” well, I already said maps are not one of my strong points so there!

Along the way, I take yet another wrong turn that leads me into a town. Dead of night, hardly any cars on the road, then a police car drives behind me for a bit and I nearly stop, thinking again that they have noticed my erratic moves and are finally trapping me, and again they drive past. I stop at a gas station, find a police man who directs me onto Lee high way – “drive passed the next 5 traffic lights then make a left turn at …”

Back on the highway, not too sure which exit to take I end up on a toll road, I can’t make it through, I turn around, get back onto the highway and brrrrrrrr chkkkkkkk, the car has had enough. I was out of fuel. Each time I passed a gas station, I thought I would stop at the next; anyway, I basically took leave of my senses at some point. I felt drunk; my hands were getting numb, like I was in a zombie ish state. I had been praying so hard that when the car stopped, I almost had no emotion. It couldn’t get worse.
I sat, tried to restart the car but clearly after all that driving, what was I expecting? I put on my hazard lights and sighed. “God, now what?”
2 minutes later a car drove up behind me and stopped. I got out and walked towards them. 3 men stepped out and suddenly I was weak in the knees, I thought, this is the point at which they bundle me up and throw me in the boot/trunk.

Guy: “What seems to be the problem?”
Me:“I’ve run out of fuel”
Guy: “Ok, first, let’s get the car off the road. Where are you headed?”
Me:“Centerville”
Guy: “Do you have a can in the car?”
Me:“No”
He opens the car door, pulls out the keys and hands them to me.
“You don’t want your battery to run out”
Just then a police car with flashing lights parks behind his and we all walk towards it.
I explain the problem and the lady officer offers to help.

“I’ll take her to the petrol station”

Guy: “Make sure to take all valuable possessions with you and next time; don’t sit inside when your car stalls on the highway. Get out and stand on the side”
Me: “Thank you so much!!!!!”

Police lady drives me to the petrol station to buy a can; we put in fuel and drive back. On the way she cautions me as well about sitting in the car.

Police woman: Do you have triple A?
Me: I’m not sure
Police woman: What’s the model of your car?
Me: Err I’m not sure
Police woman: Do you have a filter?
Me: No
Police woman: On which side is your fuel tank?
Me: Let me check

Quite clearly I was as green as a raw mango in the middle of Teso.

She taught me how to use the gas pump to fill the jerry can and helped me to funnel it.
The car raved. Woo hoo!!!
She told to drive on till McLaren and then take a right onto lee highway. Before long, I figured it all out and I was on the road to our house. That was such a good feeling.

I walked in the door, 5:00am in the morning and there was not a soul in sight.
I put the phone on charge, tried to call Sam but he wasn’t picking. I took a shower, slept for 2 hours and then drove to Pat’s place to find my people there.

Tears, tears, prayers, thanks giving, narrations and here we are today, glad to be together again.

I still dream about intersections and highways from time to time.

MERRY CHRISTMAS GOOD PEOPLE!

Zooming in

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:15:00 +0000

Today I will zoom in on what’s been cooking in my neck of the woods.
God has been good! But then again, what’s new with that? – It’s His nature.
It’s just over 3 months since we relocated to the US and look what He has done.

Sam started work, we moved into our own place 5 days ago, Mich continues to improve at school, and Amani gets to spend her days with mama. We are totally grateful.

The house is near empty but it’s alright. The owner was kind enough to leave his TVs’, a few curtains, a double bed and a table. The realtor who got us the place brought us some chairs. Pat and Ed gave us a TV stand, so really we are rolling in God's unmerited favor.
Christmas is here! I haven’t bought any decorations yet and with a 1 and 7 year old, you know that is serious business. I hope I can pull something off soon. Meanwhile, we got an invitation to The White House on the 23rd and Sam forgot to RSVP. I’m totally crushed! I was looking forward to the decorations and blogging all about it. I pray something even better takes its place because that hole is deep. On a lighter note, Joe’s cousin invited us home for Christmas, so we have progii for the 25th, yaay!

I passed my driving test on a rainy day, how cool is that?! The test is in 2 sections; computer based and on the road. I knocked them all out of the ball park! Reading the manual and answering multiple type questions made it a breeze. My instructor was a great guy. We can owe the few errors I made to the rain “blurring my vision” and coming from a British colony. I once nearly turned onto the left side – to oncoming traffic, when he gently nudged “Mary… Mary…, you are turning onto the wrong side of the road”. I forgot to turn off my lights after parking, he gently reminded me again. I was nervous but I think he saw through all that to the good driver that I am right? I got my driving license within the week.

I did a one month stunt of work as an administrative assistant, filling in for a lady who was away on vacation. It went well. Nice group of people, very friendly and supportive. I worked 10am to 6pm. To get to DC I took a bus from home to the train station (about 50 minutes) and then a train up to Farragut West (45 minutes). I got home at 8pm and had to be out by 7:50am just to get to work on time. Thankfully it was only 3 days a week, so it worked out quite well, Sam had enough time to recoup from being a stay home dad long enough to dive in again a day later. Well, that’s over for now. I don’t know what God has in store but since my baby girl is trying to wrap her mind round all these changes, staying home might be the best option for the moment.

I’m looking forward to curving out routines, now that we have a place of our own.

In sickness.

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 01:44:00 +0000

I'm uncertain of how to say it so I have put it all here and for once I give you a job - sort it out, I hope you walk away with something to muse on.

Dad told us during one of those famous family meetings that marriage was an incredibly difficult institution. He said it with a pained look that I will always remember, as though he was spitting nails. I freaked out! There was something about his facial expression that made those words ring. Something about the way he said it made me think there were events in marriage he couldn’t sufficiently dilute into words for us. Oh! But I was just a little girl, my mind couldn’t wrap around extremely intense matters. I thought, “If you and mom handled it this well, then what’s to fear?” When the day rolled around, I vowed to respect my husband; To honor and love him through sickness, holocaust, hurricane and what not. I was going to face the world with my bestest friend. There was one slight problem though, I didn’t fully grasp the concept of “sickness”. It floated like an imaginary balloon. Now, through the years, it has become a reality – sickness will visit your marriage literally and figuratively.

You may be whispering sweet nothings, going through mundane days or quietly exchanging knowing glances while sipping hot cocoa on a cold Umeme free night. Sickness will walk through your door none the less; from a bad cold that knocks the wind out of your sails to the diagnosis of a terminal disease.

He has visited my house a couple of times and I’ve often prayed that he makes it short. At times he over stays his welcome, but I truly dread it when he comes to stay, when I must make room because he is not leaving. He becomes part of the family. When he is having a session with one family member, it’s impossible to ignore his presence, he’s too loud and messy. It is news of his permanent visits that cause my heart to thump so hard I literally hear it bouncing off my ear drums. It tears around like a ping pong ball up to my skull and down to the bottom of my feet in slow motion, in a split second - all at once.
It is the idea that his brother death is not too far away - the way he ravages the body in short quick jabs or slowly, like a replay in “Football Made in Germany”.

It is losing the independence and human dignity in God’s original plan to being helpless, fed, clothed and diapered. It is the realization now as a parent that this doesn’t affect just me but the little people who call me “mummy”.

It is the madness that grips the mind when presented with the news that; you cannot conceive; that your baby won't survive; that a hereditary disease is gaining ground; that you or your spouse has a chronic illness.

Marriage is tested when a couple discovers their child has special needs. The rugged pendulum swings from “why us” to “it’s your fault” to “it originates from your side of the family”. It has the potential to draw families closer together, acknowledging that life can’t be done without God, or it rips marriages apart with “I can’t take this anymore”.

So when those men penned the original wedding vows, they were onto something. Dating? Please talk about the "in sickness", unromantic as it may be.
Life throws some really messed up balls but Jesus has to be your coach and your spouse needs to be your team mate.

It’s World AIDS Day and AIDS has shaken life as we know it more than any other disease, but I choose to throw in all other illnesses; Cancer, Cerebral Malaria, Leukaemia, Parkinson's disease, autism ... all constant reminders that we are mortal, we are visible and God Only wise.

Miss Delight

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 02:39:00 +0000

She’s a DELIGHT - my Amani!
In all of 16 months on this planet, she’s garnered more nick names than I have had my entire life; Ama, Baby girl, Bubbles, Juju (say it fast, as if you are stammering to say juice). “Juju” rules courtesy of big brother Mich. He tells us it means cute in her language.
She communicates with sentences too complex for me to decipher but her brother assures us that he knows her codes, so I worry not.

When she is hungry, she might push me towards the kitchen or stand near the fridge. On the occasion that I’m engrossed in other duties, she will cry inconsolably as if to say “this is too much! I can’t take it anymore!”
Once I was preoccupied, (it must have been facebook or some such evil) when she begun to cry.

“Yes Amani, what is it?”
“ nyaaaaaa”
“Are you tired?”
“nyaaaaa”
“Do you want to go outside?”
“nyaaaa nyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”
“Oh! You must be hungry!”

She switched to a lower pitch and I got it.
I put her in the feeding chair and whipped something up.
When I put the plate in front of her, she clapped her chubby little fingers and said “googa!”
Her version of “good girl!”
I nearly rolled on the floor in a feat of laughter. She is funny like that.

She likes people with the exception of Uncle Edward, he was too energetic on their first encounter, he raised his voice in excitement and that brought her to tears. She isn’t fully aware of the impact she has on people.

Jeshiah (4 years old) calls her a “cute little baby” but mostly “juju”. His prayer one night was “Dear Jesus, please help Amani to start talking so that we can go to Hollywood and sing”, his mom and I barely made it to the end of that prayer.

Mich rushes in from school - breathless, “Where’s Amani? Where’s Amani?” When he sees her, they both light up, he shouts “Amaniiii!!!” She starts to run towards him then turns away as if she just realized he’s a mirage.
“How are you juju?” she totally ignores him and attempts to walk off when he grabs her and envelops her in hugs and kisses. She’s learnt to “hold her horses” quite early.

She enjoys rolling around with the boys, getting right in the middle of their games. They love it! They love her!
But as with every relationship there are times she is simply messing things up, that’s when you’ll hear “Amaaniii!! Stoooop! Go away!”

She loves to cuddle, to snuggle her head in the warmest corner of my neck – it fits perfectly.
Her laugh is sensational! Her chuckle is contagious. She rolls up into a ball and covers her face as though she were afraid to laugh with abandon.

Her mouth! That is where it all happens. Everything is vetted in there; papers, sponges, shoes… everything! Well except insects. Any tiny creature that’s got a life of its own freaks her out. She is a girl alright!
Her hunger for soap in its various foams is yet to be quenched. She will take a huge bite out of a bar or suck on a bottle of shampoo as if her life depended on it. Left to her own devices, bubbles would gently froth out her ears.

She is very strong! She rips things apart. She loves to flip through books. On occasion you’ll hear that dreaded sound “shhhriip!!” as she passionately turns the pages. She’ll look up suddenly with a surprised expression as if to say “what just happened?”

She is fascinated with little openings, any space into which she can wiggle her finger. I’m talking sockets, holes, ears and stuff. Speaking of fingers, she still sucks her middle and ring finger – her perfect comfort. Apparently finger sucking is hereditary – her dad was onto those 2 back in the day.

She lights up when things disappear – the now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t kind of disappear. She is so proud when she throws something in the dustbin; cups, spoons, pens, books, all in the dustbin! It’s like magic to her - a fascinating abyss. Her attention however is shifting towards the toilet bowl and flashing “We’ve got our eyes on you baby girl!”

She is such a copy cat, do something once and she’s on it - waving, clapping, dancing… Lately she’s been pouting and saying “ow” as though she were speaking French. I suspect that’s her imitation of the way we talk.

She loves music! She loves to sing and dance! Her favorite songs are “baby Jesus”, “Yes Jesus loves me”, “Twinkle twinkle little star” and Barney’s theme song “I love you”. She belts out her lines a tad late but oh! So passionately loud.

She loves anything that writes; pens, pencils, markers, crayons, name it! she attempts to use them everywhere. In time we might get notes from Mich’s teacher reading something like this, “It’s unacceptable to have your little sister writing your homework!”. If Mich had his way, he would not touch a pen or pencil with a javelin. He's never taken interest in writing period; Amani on the other hand is a force to reckon with – any paper or book left lying around will have her signature doodle.

She is comfortable with routine, even preempts it when mom and dad slacken.

She is cheeky. She is gaining awareness of what she shouldn’t do but loves mums reaction, so she does it and attempts to run away. Now, she covers her face with her palms when she is being rebuked.

With all this, it’s clear that she has quite a personality. Regarding her physical features, she looks a bit like her aunt Carol, her grand aunt Lydia and her cousin Genevieve. Her fingers look like her grandma's. She walks like her great grand ma, not in entirity but it's there – it’s crazy I know! But you’ve got to see to believe. And finally because she loves to eat, when asked to sit down, she immediatle drops down on the softest spot closest to you (Uncle Enock knows more about this behavior).

I. You. We – This is our life line.

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 03:26:00 +0000

This box rules my life.

I’m hooked, it’s hooked; on my belt, attached to my head, in my hand, my pocket, my bag - We are one!

I hate sleep! I get insomniac anxiety - the unbearable separation for hours.

I keep it under my pillow, next to my bed. I reach for it before I say “good morning!” and after I say “good night!”

At the train station, waiting for the bus, in the car, the doctors office, waiting to meet a friend – waiting, just waiting …

In those in between moments of life, we humble ourselves, heads bowed in prayer to different gods. While some roll beads and whisper “Hail Mary” I tap the screen as I flip through sites or send a text, and whisper “come on, come on! Faster browser faster!”

I spare a few seconds to glance around hardly noticing my surroundings. I’m more comfortable in my other world. My virtual friends are simply the best! They love me more, they like everything I post and that feeds my want perfectly.

Like experienced swimmers we dive down to the sea bed of the virtual waters, only coming up to breath, to mumble “hello”, open the door or step off the taxi. I drink in a bit of the atmosphere and dive back to the bottom of this endless sea of inventions, statements, news and who thought what!

My life line! - The wires attached to my ear drums, my blood flows through its veins. It calms my nerves, yeah! I smile – just me and the good things in my world.

Don’t!!!

I’m prone to lash out, fly into a feat, shake uncontrollably - my withdrawals are bad like that. When my life line goes flat, I’m dead.

You behind the wires of internet, cell phones and what not, don’t mess! Period

All the singlemarried ladies!

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 04:50:00 +0000

Once upon a time, when my mind brimmed over with naivety, I assumed marriage was an institution for old folk.
Time inched forward (like it always does) and brides and grooms adopted faces of people I knew. They were not contemporaries per se but people I related with. Suddenly I felt the urge to walk … away; I preferred them at a calculated distance. They complicated life. We were cautioned to steer clear of married men, innocent friendships were suspect. Wives huffed and puffed when younger girls engaged in conversations with their husbands, cordial relations ended on that note. It was a zone to tread carefully, if at all.

Gradually close friends caught “the bug” and interactions after the wedding felt odd. The walk down the aisle and the wave as they drove off into their honeymoon built a wedge between us – they, in that instant had experienced something unique, something we couldn’t share. On their return, we were all thrilled and bubbly - questions, stories, experiences to share. But silently, weirdly, in my mind, they had grown a third head – they were different. Time no longer waited on us, “he” had to go, to cook, to clean, to love, to nature this new institution. Suddenly “he” (time) was more precious to my married friends.

Then I caught the bug. I got married. I grew a third head. I was thrilled to see my girlfriends again but our experiences and responsibilities were like the two roads that diverged in a yellow wood, I was sorry I couldn’t travel both (or so I thought). I on occasion bowed to societal pressure; a married woman should only spend time with other married women, she should delete all male friends and cancel “un mutual” friendships. She should not sing in the choir – too much time spent away from home chores. Choose a ministry that isn’t time consuming and keep out of the lime light. Avoid activities that necessitate having either one or both legs off the ground i.e. dancing, jumping… get the drift? – Total taboo for a married woman.

Friendship circles evolved. I spent more time with other married couples. Then the babies crawled into the picture and conversations turned to c-section or natural delivery, blue or pink, breast feeding or bottles, staying home or going back to work, first teeth, and first words, walking, first day at school and on. The over tones of “wife” and “mother” drowned out all youthfulness. Conversations were one tracked. Who were these women? Why was every conversation so intense? What happened to the light moments of life?

Unable to relate, single girlfriends distanced themselves. The cookie cut marriage molded by society had apartheid tendencies. Along the way the girl in me got reawakened, she wanted to do girly things, go for coffee, stay out late or watch a movie with a friend other than my husband. It was refreshing. Every wife/mother should do this from time to time. I cherish times spent with my single girlfriends, I appreciate their longings, and we reminisce over times gone by and realize that we still have strong ties that bind us together.

A note to married girlfriends: Your single friends aren’t always eager to know what your children are up to or how your husband is. Pause for a moment to think and talk about you outside the roles of wife and mother. It’s easy to get lost in these roles and lose self, you become less embracing of life and the beauty there in.

Stop and smell the roses.

Walk to Campus; take a trip to high school, to camp, to your first fellowship, to P1. Do it literally or in your mind, do you see the people that made you smile? Are you still in touch?

A note to the single girlfriends: Give us a heads up when you plan those outings to the beach or the other cozy joint. We want to have fun too, yes, with you.

Balding

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 20:21:00 +0000

You look into the mirror and notice the receding line, oh my gooness!
Maybe the action starts in the middle, like a smooth iceberg slowly emerging from the water – your hair is thinning, now what?

I was chatting with a friend the other day and to the question “what’s new?” he said “I’m same old, same old, except I’m balding”. In the past year, I can count 6 of my guy friends who are balding too. In some instances it has come as a surprise because for the longest time, they had a full head of hair. For others I’m able to connect the dots – tell tale signs, certain hair styles and head gear.

My initial reaction? “oh my! We are aging and it’s beginning to show” then I meet balding men in their mid twenties.

Balding is natural, genetic even.

I’m curious. So, the day one first notices they are balding, does it come as a shock? Can you tell well before time that “tag, you’re it!”? When those little fellows start to take leave and not grow back, is one tempted to live in denial? Is it something to be embarrassed about?

How do wives react to the fact that their husbands are balding? Should the topic be included in dating 101 to avoid unnecessary surprises? “Baby, just so you know, I’ve got the balding genes!”

It reminds me of the day I first saw a grey hair on my head. I got close to the mirror, confirmed I was not hallucinating, it was grey hair. Filled with shock and unbelief, I studied it for a bit then I had a moment of silence. I have accepted it and know exactly where it strands.

May I encourage you that even God knew we would have issues with our hair;
Matthew 5:36 says “And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black” (we are not talking dye here).
Matthew 10:30 says, “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered”.
So really, it’s all good! God is concerned with the details. As each strand comes loose from combing, brushing or strong winds, God is aware, He knows how many have fallen out and how many are left. He cares that much.

Job Search 101

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 18:53:00 +0000

We resigned our jobs in Kampala to come to America. For a couple with 2 children, it sounds coo coo! Especially considering the sick economy. But alas this is our story. Well, the economy is still under the weather with bouts of wellness in a few places. How is that for a walk of faith?

Within a month of getting here I received a phone call from a hiring firm inviting me for an interview. Three hours after the interview they called to say they had a job for me. Since I have always applied for my jobs directly, dealing with a hiring firm is a learning experience, but here is how it works. Company Z is looking for a candidate to fill a position; they couldn’t be bothered with the recruiting process so they pay a hiring firm to find the right person. The hiring firm scans through resumes and picks a candidate who suits the profile. They interview the candidate and if they are satisfied with the result, they alert company Z. Since the hiring firm has a good track record of picking the right people, company Z takes the recruit on to start work immediately. With that back ground, let’s switch back to my story.

Okay, so the hiring firm gives me the details of the organization that is looking to hire me, in this case a Consulting firm. They are clinical psychologists majoring in organizational strategy, they are involved in HR training and basically helping companies maximize the full potential of their staff. I was assigned to a buddy in the hiring firm who “coached me” on self presentation. 1st, wear a suit to the interview 2nd, don’t mention salary (that’s between them and the client) My CV was printed on their letter headed paper - I was their employee to all intents and purposes.

The interview with the client was casual, more of a chat. The interviewer liked me and expressed it in no uncertain terms. After the interview, reported back to the hiring firm.

Later that evening I got a call from the hiring firm to say, things were looking good. The consulting firm was considering me for the position, yeeey!!!

Two days later I was invited for a “meet and greet”. I thought it was an opportunity to meet the rest of the staff. It turned out to be a second interview with the Finance Administrator. By the way, it’s a British consulting firm, with headquarters in the UK – this office is a branch with 4 staff. Yes, small like that! Again, I had to give feedback after the interview to the hiring firm and again I received a call to say things were definitely looking good. The next step was meeting the president of the organization who happened to be out of town.

It’s a whirl wind of events; moving back and forth, feeling like a puppet in the hands of the hiring firm, wondering whether I really want to have a full time job. What about my little heart throbs – Amani and Mich? Will daddy stay home and look after them? Do I really want Amani to go to day care? Stuff that can break a woman’s back.

A day later I get another phone call inviting me to meet one of the Consultants in the firm – I was getting a hung of this “meet and greet” thing, so I prepared for the interview. It was a pleasant meeting close to an hour long, very intense too (That’s what you get when you expose yourself to clinical psychologists; they want to figure out how your brain works).

At this point even the hiring firm is flabbergasted; they have not met a client this detailed. Most clients don’t interview candidates; they just show up for orientation and work. Anyway, things go silent at this point. A week later, the hiring firm calls to inform me the consulting firm has put recruiting on hold until the president approves.

I was disappointed! My time, my transport… But elated on the other hand that I would be home with my babies.

2 days later, hiring firm calls to say they’ve found an opportunity with a service employees union - 3 days a week for a month, not exciting but workable. God answers prayers in interesting ways. And now I pray that God finds my DH an excellent, out of this world, just right job.

Halloween trials.

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 01:12:00 +0000

It’s Halloween torment in the Ongwen household. I’m having sleepless nights with Mich literally pestering me for a Halloween costume. I wish he would forget about it but no,there are calls from eve ry corner – the stores are filled with Halloween costumes, it's all over school, TV doesn’t spare us either, the neighborhood is covered in cobwebs, spiders,

tombstones, pumpkins - the works!
Mich is all pumped up!

We have had the discussion, No Halloween! It’s not a holiday we appreciate as a family. Indulge in the candy by all means, but as a family, we don’t believe in celebrating death or the spooky representations. Clearly I’m not communicating right, after a few seconds he is talking about the zombie costume he saw in the store or how cool it would be to dress up as a vampire.

“Do you know what a vampire is?”
“Yes mummy, they have long sharp teeth and they suck human blood”
“Do you think that is a nice thing?”
“No mummy, but they look cool”

Where is the thrill in this? Why would a 7 year old be excited about a creature that sucks human blood? Am I taking things too seriously?

The other day he said, “Zombies are just a stage of life” I paused to listen.

“Okay, first it’s an egg, then a baby, then a little child, then a bigger child like me, then a man, then an old man, then it dies and becomes a zombie only that some of the flesh has been eaten by worms"

What is this? Is it me or are boys just wired differently? Where does he get this information? More importantly, why is he comfortable with it?

I’m concerned. How do I reach my baby’s heart? Should I get burned out about this? Or just let it go as a “harmless” event?

2 months already

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 21:14:00 +0000

It’s been 2 months living in the US.
Right now the leaves are beautiful shades of red, orange, green, golden brown, and yellow. Fall is gorgeous!Watching the leaves sway to the ground reminds me of my childhood days when the wind blew the leaves off the trees, they would sprinkle down
and I would run out and try to catch them, it was so much fun.
It’s nippy. The cold winds are blowing less subtly, the chill sips into your bones in a manner that one can’t ignore, a reminder that winter is round the corner, time to pull out those heavy jackets and boots. Granted, on occasion you'll spot some people still walking around in flip flops and shorts but for an indigenous African like myself, this is as good as winter.

Settling has been smoother than I anticipated, I credit that to prayers we made and those made on our behalf by friends and family.
One of the requirements on preselection in the DV process is providing an address and contact for when one first arrives in the country, so Moses and Mercy were happy to stand in the gap. Our plan was to spend a week with them, then move into an extended stay hotel. But just when we were about to move in, a couple friend opened their home to us. We are saving our resources and thankfully it's stretching out for a longer period - I call that, God’s small mercies, a blessing beyond words!

One needs a car in DC, public transport is limited, it doesn’t take you everywhere and is almost nonexistent over the weekends. In the ideal situation, one would buy a car (especially with children in the picture), but we are holding off until either of us gets a job. We ride with our host to church and grocery shopping - another small mercy.

We received our green cards 3 weeks after we arrived. I don’t know why they are called green cards, they are not green by any stretch of the imagination. It is our official ID, it shows our status in the country, a photo and date of expiry – its valid for 10 years. It’s a lot easier to gain employment with this identification but without a social security number, you can’t get no dimes. Since a month had gone by without receiving our “socials” in the mail, we headed to the nearest office to apply in person. Within a week, we had our numbers. With the cards and socials, we are good to go.

And now I’m concerned with getting a drivers license, credit cards and opening a bank account. The drivers license shouldn’t be too complicated, I need to read the drivers manual and when I’m ready, go for the written test. If I ace that, then I can do the driving test. I’m wrapping my head around driving on the right not the left and the numerous road signs. I don’t know how Ugandans manage but lets just say driving tests back home are a joke! Okay, so we have 3 road signs (pun intended) but how many drivers actually know what they mean? We live by grace!

I have never owned a credit card, that means I don’t have a credit score and that means when I apply for one I will be considered like a college student making my first acquaintance with money. To prove that I’m responsible and worthy of credit, I have to get a credit card - kind of ironic, to get one you need to have one. Department stores are eager to give credit cards, so I guess that’s a good place to start. To open a bank account, I need 2 forms of ID and my social security number. Then I have to decide whether to have a Checkings or Savings account. Still have a way to go.

Job search continues, I have had some interesting experiences which I will share in another post, otherwise family is well.

Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 01:54:00 +0000

Lei Yixin is responsible for this incredible work of art. It's located in the vista between the Lincoln Memorial and the Thomas Jefferson Memorial.
I was elated to visit the site a day after President Obama dedicated it.

Stone of Hope

Mountain of Despair

What not to say to an expecting mother

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 00:52:00 +0000

Her body is consumed with the details of creating a human being. As we celebrate her, we make careless statements without full awareness of their impact.

“You have put on weight!” She knows and is probably not feeling too thrilled about it. A compliment on how good she looks is welcome but only if you mean it, otherwise just smile and wave.

“You are still pregnant?!” If she wasn’t it would be obvious. She is exhausted, 9 months is a long time you know?! She can’t do much about it and she doesn’t need the added pressure, so be gracious and encourage her along.

“Are you sure you are not having twins?” Simply because she has a specially extended tummy doesn’t mean there are several babies in there, babies sit differently in utero but if indeed she was having twins, whatabout??

“You look like you are about to pop!” You can’t get more unkind. She might be a close friend who lets your jokes fly over but let’s not push it.

Don’t touch her tummy without permission. Pregnant women can be extremely irritable and sensitive and would appreciate the personal space.

So, tread softly.

When it’s all done, do not …

Focus on her flaws. Concentrate on the baby, direct your concern to whether she is healing well.

Tips on how to raise her child are welcome if she asks.

Rat lovers

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 01:29:00 +0000

At 7, boys are curious, discovering the world and the creatures around them.
Mich wants a pet, a creature he can own and look after, it's in his dreams and prayers, Santa Claus is going to have pressure.
Some of the book titles he’s borrowed from the school library include;- “Guinea Pigs”, “Training older dogs”, “Brave Dogs, Gentle Dogs” …
I don't know how to handle this.

His Dad is not a "pet fan", I am, but it depends on what kind of pet. It's not particularly comfortable having frogs and grasshoppers stare at us through plastic bottles placed on the dinning table and I have politely asked Mich to keep them somewhere else. This time I was handed a book on pet rats.

Here are a few excerpts from the book;

Choosing the right rat; These creatures come in more than 20 color variations; black, white, brown, grey, caramel … A healthy rat doesn’t sneeze, wheeze or have diarrhea. Okay!

Making a rat habitat; An aquarium works best. Buy aspen chips and hay to line the bottom of the aquarium, don’t forget rat food pellets, food dishes and a water bottle with a tube – apparently rats get pretty thirsty.

Working on your relationship; When rats are angry or afraid they bite, so play with the rat, make it comfortable and safe.

Cleaning up; Rats are neat freaks, so make sure to clean their little house, that involves removing droppings and stuff.

Exercise; Rats love to run around and are particularly interested in racing, especially towards food.
Tips on how to build a race track, a good rat diet and so on.

At this point I’m thinking, if I read any further I will catapolt into a feat.

Mich nearly mailed this book to grandma because she needs to read up on how to care for rats. She killed a rat the last time he visited her. He was traumatized and reduced to tears at how inrat (my version of inhumane) she was.

Wait a second - Ratatouille, Despereaux, Jerry, Stewart, these are all rats of some kind.

Come to think of it, “Rat race” is not a new phrase either.

Oh my goonness!! There are plenty of rat lovers out there.

What low maintainance, cute pet can get for my boy?

We are NOT getting a rat.

The National Book Festival

noreply@blogger.com (mama mich's tales) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 00:25:00 +0000

Last weekend I attended an amazing event organized by the Library of Congress - The National Book Festival. I was thrilled to be there on two accounts; I love reading and an amazing woman/writer/author/poet/Pulitzer prize winner was going to be there – Tony Morrison. I wanted to listen to her and later have her autograph a copy of her book for me.
The Metro (DC train) is incredibly jammed over the weekends, the connotation of being packed like sardines was quite appropriate. I imagined everyone was heading to the book festival and in fact many were, but many were also visiting museums and historical sites. DC has many attractions and being the Nation’s capital, it seems to draw the world.

I dashed towards the National mall only to find the crowds were already comfortable – as though they had spent the night or something. I was only 5 minutes late for Tony’s talk but her tent was over flowing. I stood at the back; tip toed and cringed my neck to see the lady. She looked just like I thought she would; light skinned with grey locks. She is in her 70’s and still looking great, sounding strong and very informed. Her interviewer kept up to a good pace, asking where she grew up, which schools she attended and why, and how did you end up doing what you do? - the kind of questions anyone would love to ask. The audience was glued to her, almost suffocating as they held on to her every word, they laughed in excitement and listened keenly.

When asked which people had impacted her life the most, she mentioned Angela Davis and Mohammed Ali. Angela who? Ali I knew but Angela Davis? Never heard of her, and just what would Angela and Ali have in common? - Nothing.

Angela Davis is an African American Philosopher and a civil rights activist. Mohamed Ali is the legendary boxer who “floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee”. She was fascinated by his humility and willingness to take instructions from her without questioning.

After the talk, I rushed out to buy her book but everybody was thinking the same thing, by the time I queued, the line was winding for miles like a giant python. The pretty ushers assured us that we would all have our books signed, so we waited patiently. One hour, two hours, the line was moving alright but maybe not fast enough. We kept hope alive, we were going to stand in line no matter what, we were going to meet this amazing woman, she was going to sign our books, shakes our hands and we would never be the same again, perhaps in that handshake we would be transfused with her talent and become the best writers yet. In the third hour it became apparent that some of our wishes wouldn’t be fulfilled, Ms Morison could not sign any more books. The line dispersed. I was disappointed. At least I saw her live, and listened to her speak - I could live with that. I found something to eat and strolled through the other tents. There was so much going on – Family storytelling, contemporary life, children’s authors, poetry and prose, history and biography but as you can imagine only 1 hour to drink it all in. I had to get back home and the bus service is none existent on the weekends, don’t understand why.

As I waited for my ride at the Vienna station, I was approached by a Mormon – never imagined this day would come. He talked about a new prophet called Joseph Smith, who with 12 other disciples wrote the book of Mormons, a somewhat contemporary bible. Why would I need another Prophet and an extra bible? Jesus and the original Bible work just fine for me. It made for an interesting conversation at most. So I’m home, thankful that my mind has been exposed to magical number of authors and genres of writing out there but mostly grateful that I know whom I have believed and I’m persuaded beyond a shadow of doubt.

Have a wonderful week good people.

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