Lunch Boxes

I don’t quite know what it is about lunch boxes that I hate, but I hate them, with a passion.  It’s not like they take a long time to prepare.  Even for 3 kids, it doesn’t take more than 15 minutes as long as you have the contents in the kitchen cupboards.

Nonetheless, each evening, I try to fill my kids’ lunch boxes with healthy, non-chocolate, peanut butter, salt, sugar tainted snacks.  Not an easy task.  And, I think most Mums would agree!

I, for one, do not send in dairy products.  We live in the desert.  It’s too hot, even with cooler packs, I am not willing to risk food poisoning, or have uneaten, curdled milk products returned to sender.

I also do not send in fruit.  Quite early on in my children’s academic careers, I learned that sending in fruit, contrary to nurseries’  and schools’ opinion of healthy eating is, more often than not, a waste of time and money.  Nine times out of ten when I have sent in fruit with my children, it has come back as untouched, brown mush which is instantly binned.  A waste of good, healthy food.

In the last  lunchbox swoop by the school Nurse, my daughter reported that the school Nurse  said she didn’t have enough food in her snack box…..hmmmm.  Even though DD would probably not eat more than the contents of her snack box on that day, she was upset at being, as she saw it, ‘told off’ by the Nurse.

My observations are that no matter how varied I try to be, DD does not like about 80% of what I put in her snack box.  It’s too healthy, not enough sugar, chocolate etc., so she eats her sandwich and picks at the snack box.  In an attempt to get her to eat more, I sometimes allow her (under strict supervision) to make up her own snack for school.  Given she is not allowed the ‘unhealthy’ stuff, she packs what she likes from the ‘healthy’ or, as DD calls it, the ‘boring’ stuff.  Invariably the amount she packs is far less than what I would stuff in there!  Unfortunately, for DD and me, the day the Nurse launched her on-the-spot-inspection was the day,DD had packed her snack!

That same week, DS1’s snackbox came in for closer inspection by and comment from the school Nurse!

‘Not as healthy as it could be’, DS1 bemoaned.  ‘Why do you put crisps in my snack box, Mummy????!!!!  Nurse says they are unhealthy.’

DS1 is my best and most diverse ‘eater’.  If any of the 3 will eat most of their packed lunches, it will be DS1.  He would never normally object to the crisps I give him for snacks.  Afterall, they are from the Organix range, no fat, salt, sugar, E numbers – just dry, sawdusty rings with an ever so slight flavour of something indectable.  Hardly a relative of Walkers’ crisps.

At this stage, I was thinking my kids were being victimised, singled out in front of their classmates for inadequate and unhealthy school time fare!  Ultimately, it was me who was in the firing line, and I half expected a call from the Nurse to discuss (read  ‘receive a lecture on’)  what constitutes a healthy snack box.

The call didn’t come (thankfully!), and I have not changed my ways regarding filling lunch boxes.  Too often my kids come home with untouched snack boxes and uneaten sandwiches/spaghetti etc.  The look of obvious dismay on my face is met with a barrage of mini moans: ‘I didn’t have time to eat snacks’, ‘Miss So and So didn’t let us have a break’, ‘Miss So and So didn’t let us back into the classroom because she had a meeting with the other Miss So and So’, ‘Why can’t I have Oreos for lunch like So and So does’!

I have learned to accept that this is the way it is always going to be.  In truth, I am actually OK with that as I would prefer to monitor my children’s healthy food intake.  When we get home, there are instant requests for fruit, rice cakes, yoghurts and digestive biccies (my boys love their digestive biccies!).  They are already making healthy choices and of that I am proud.  I get to see them eat it, and not furtively throw it in the bin (I know of a child who used to throw his strawberries in the bin every day, and it was weeks before the Mum realised what was going on!) or let it degenerate to goo which belongs on the compost heap.  The school Nurse thinks she is a bad ass food monitor???  She has no idea!

 

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Spelling Bee

Yesterday I made a deal with my kids.  If they do their homework without whining, then they can keep their privileges: after school activities like swimming, football, gymnastics, basically anything fun.  If they wish to do anything outside of this, they need to refer back to to the deal of this day.

One day after the deal, they were compliant, sitting down to do their Mummy initiated spelling test!

About 32 spellings in, I asked them to spell ‘bike’.  DS1 and DD looked at me quizzically.  The hairs on my neck bristled.  ‘Are you serious?  You must know how to spell ‘bike’.  It’s a 4 letter word that rhymes with ‘like’, I thought to myself whilst trying to convey that silent thought to my spelling Bees!

DS1 piped up ‘does that end in ‘itch’?’

Silently, I worked that out in my head…it starts with a ‘b’….and you are asking me if it ends with ‘itch’?

With eyes tightly shut, and my lips forbidding a giggle to escape my gob, I desperately tried to deflect attention from that word: spell ‘people’ I ordered with the ferocity of a teacher in need of the Christmas break now and not 4 weeks from now!

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Justin Bieber is a Girl/Boy

according to DS2!

Tonight, as MTV entertained my front room occupants, DS1 squealed with delight when JB’s music video started.

‘I love this song’ he announced as he jumped up to mimic JB’s moves and sing along to his latest hit.

Whilst DS1 was in the throes of a ‘hairbrush’ microphone moment, DS2 slinked up beside me and whispered in my ear: ‘Justin Beezer is a girl/boy.’

Puzzled (well, not really….let’s face it, JB could put on some lippy, gel back that ridiculous fly away hair, and wear something feminine – no one would know he is a boy!), I couldn’t wait to see where this was going….

‘Justin Bieber (yes, he managed to get his name right this time!), wears girls’ swimsuits.  He wears the same one as you do, Mummy’ he justified in all earnestness.

Turning around to see the video, it all fell into place.

JB is frolicking around in what looks like a waterpark.  He is wearing boarder shorts and a black tank top.  It does not occur to a 5 year old that someone would wear clothes in a swimming pool (he has yet to observe the pool attire of certain nationalities in Dubai!).  What JB is wearing resembles the black all in one Mummy wears when she goes swimming.  Ergo, JB is a girl/boy; looks like a boy (sometimes even I have my doubts about this) but dresses like a girl for the pool!

 

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Swimming with the Fish

Spending a weekend day at the beach has become a habit in the past few weeks.  The weather has cooled; the humidity evaporated.  Dubai life moves from inside the malls and play areas to the pools, beaches and parks.  Each weekend is anticipated with the excitement of an annual holiday in the sun.  Friday morning comes and by 9am, the car is stuffed with an amount of ‘luggage’ comparable to what we take on a week’s holiday, and the kids are asking ‘are we nearly there?’ by the time we drive around the first corner!

Unloading the car at the beach, the kids leave a laden-down-with-beach-paraphenalia Mummy and Daddy to trudge through the sand, as they make kids made a beeline for the sea – ‘Gerrrrooonnnnnniiimmmmooooo’ rings out and all 3 sprint through the sand, and compete to make the biggest splash in the water!

Today, there were so many fish flitting through the salty, shallow ripples.  The kids’ excitement levels went through the roof. Well, two out of our three munckins got excited.  DS2 ran out of the water with a look of terror on his face that suggested he had seen Jaws!  Meanwhile DS1 and DD duckdived under the water to get a closer look.

Once DH and I had set up camp in the sand, we joined our budding scuba divers who, at this stage, were desperately trying to catch the fish….with their bare hands!  Sightings of a small school were heralded with squeals of delight from 2 kids who thrashed through the water causing a mini tsunami for these poor creatures!!!!!  I commented to DH that primitive man and remote tribes which live off the land, spend years learning how to catch a fish with their bare hands, or even a spear!  To think DD and DS1 thought they could do it without any training or understanding of how ‘jittery’ fish are!

Then DS1 stood upright, hands on hips, his scrunched up face belying his frustration.  He was thinking about how to outwit the little beggars of the sea.  He wanted to catch one at all costs.  As he turned to me, he whipped off his black and red baseball cap.  He beamed with delight: ‘Mummy, I know, if I take off my baseball cap, they won’t recognise me because I am blond’.

‘Clever idea, honey.  Try that’ I replied with pride (and trying not to giggle).  Thinking outside the box…that’s my boy!

With that he disappeared under the gentle ripples to execute his new plan.

DH waded towards me with a very puzzled look on his face!

I explained, ‘I think he means that if he removes his black and red cap the fish would not see him.  Being blond, his colouring blends in better with the marine environment.’

He’s learning!  The element of surprise often involves camouflage!  Now, to work on a less terrifyingly splashy way to try to sneak up on the fish!

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Shoes, Shoes, Glorious Shoes

Usually, I would be quite happy to write and talk about shoes but not this time…as they are not my shoes we are talking about!

Seriously…what is it with kids and shoes?  They seem to go through them as quick as they would gobble up a a chocolate chip cookie!  It is only just over 2 months since school started back.  A week or so before the September start, I had their stinky feet measured and bought the appropriate sized shoes, as well as a pair in the next size up for each of them.

Already DS1 and DD are wearing the next size up, having discarded the first pair.

Why do kids see fit to have a growth spurt 2 weeks into the new school year????  Little beggars.  I swear it has something to do with competition!  After the summer hols they return to school all eager and bright.  They shine in their new, and freshly ironed uniforms, shiny, polished shoes, and immaculate white socks.  They rush to hug their long lost friends whom they have not seen since the end of June.  Some have grown like weeds; others, not so much.  For some, feet have grown; others not so much.

But kids always seem to gravitate to those who are taller than them, or in this case, have bigger feet than them.  They want to be taller, and to wear bigger shoes, even if it means wearing the wrong sized shoes.

‘Mum, so and so wears a size 1 shoe…..size 1?????  I am a size 12……he must be a baby!’ declares DS1 not realising that a size 1 at this stage is bigger than size 12.

Having spent a long time explaining this fact to DS1, he insisted on wearing his ‘next size up’, 12.5.  Somehow he thought ‘believe big, will be big’ (male-no comment!).  Nothing could deter him;  not the blisters, the chaffing or the downright discomfort!  And now he has finally outgrown the size 12’s he hardly wore…..please see Dubizzle for the advert!

DD, on the other hand, was more open to my persuasive charm, and continued to wear her right fitting shoes, even though she too wanted to be the next size up at 12.  Each day she implored me to press the front of her shoe to see how far down her big toe pushed forward.  After about 4 weeks into the new term, it was getting close.  To extend the life of these shoes, I ensured she wore very thin socks.  Soon, I would be sending her to school sockless, a look that would not go down too well with the principal!

Week 5 and her shoes looked like they had gone a round or two with a shredder.  Bits of leather had fallen off.  More frayed bits hung on by a thread.  What do they do at school to get shoes into such a state?

So much for my attempt at planning ahead.  At this rate, it will be a new pair of shoes each term.

To ease the pain, I will be adopting the ‘one for them, one for me’ approach.  Each time they get new school shoes, I will also get a new pair pour moi!

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US Politics and Dubai

On Wednesday, 7 November, one of our office boys, J, approached me to say, ‘Congratulations Madam, Obama has won again’ (yes, we have office boys!  I am not quite sure what the PC term for this role is.  Photocopying and other stationery duties, running errands, serving refreshments to those who think their time too valuable to lift their gluteus maximus from their chairs to walk to the kitchen and serve themselves!).

I tried to explain that although I was happy Obama was re-elected, I am not American.  But J had already started to list the reasons why it was not good that Obama had been re-elected: Number 1 reason – He is a bad man.  He has caused lots of problems for Pakistan.  Very, very bad man.  Mitt Romney much better.

Obama, bad?????  Romney good?????  I am not quite sure which thought was more ridiculous.

I tried to reason with J, explaining that the re-election of Obama is a good thing for the Middle East.  Let’s not forget which country would top Israel’s hitlist, and to implement that wish, Israel would require US support, support which is now a lot less likely with President Obama in power.  Repeat: this is a good thing, especially for Dubai which is within what looks like swimming distance of Iran…..

J was either not comprehending or just not listening to me.

‘He ordered the assassination of the world’s most dangerous terrorist’, I argued, thinking that would put an immediate end to this silly argument against a balanced, stable world.

This argument was met with a minimal shrug of the shoulders.  J continued, in his broken English, to explain how much damage the US had caused in Pakistan.  He went on to describe George Bush (both of them) as bad men.  Tony Blair escaped the ‘bad’ label (????).

Through various routes, I tried to explain the difference between foreign policies of Republicans v Democrats.    Breaking it down into simple terms: Republican = Bad for Middle East stability.  Democrats = Middle East Stability.  Successive US presidents have proven this point.

J agreed Clinton was a good man.  But then he had to go back as far as Nixon to prove his point that Republicans can be good.

‘Good?  What about Watergate?’ I splurted.

‘At least no war in Pakistan, Madam’ came the response.

And therein lies the crux.  J’s country has seen a huge increase in US drones targeting terrorist activities within its borders.  According to a newspaper article I recently read, during Obama’s first term, the number of drone missions over Pakistan increased 6 fold compared to during George Bush Jr’s term!  Whilst most of the world breathed a communal sigh of relief at the assassination of Bin Laden, J was thinking of the innocent lives that are lost and forgotten by the rest of the world in these types of missions.

That made me pause.  Just like J wishes peace and stability free from world power interference in his homeland, I too want the same in my adopted homeland, Dubai.  At least, for me, Obama’s re-election goes some way to ensuring that.

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The Cat Amongst the Pigeons

DS2 has created divisions in the household.  He is only 5 years old, but he is like a union leader…..refusing to follow/listen/acknowldege what his more experienced elders (i.e., DH and Grandad)  have known for a very, very, very longtime – Liverpool is the best team in the world; when they are winning.  When they are not, they can be truly awful, but must still be supported.  And yes, that means at all costs.

DS2 loves playing football.  He loves watching football.  From what DH has told me about his childhood, I swear DS2 is a mini-DH.  It’s all about the sport, the games, the points, the leagues, and that is not just restricted to football!

With the appropriate amount of indoctrination (i.e., Liverpool kit from birth), he started out as a Liverpool fan.  Now, however, having been exposed to satellite sports channels on an almost round the clock basis, he has decided Liverpool is not his team of choice.  5 years old – so young, yet so wise!!

Don’t get me wrong.  He will support them when they play.  He will celebrate their goals as if they were World Cup winners.  He will even wear the hand-me-down kit.  But since his interest in all things ‘football’ was piqued, I have yet to hear him ask for anything that relates to Liverpool.  On the other hand, he constantly requests all things related to Spurs, Arsenal, Chelsea and, dare I say it, Man U!!!!

Understandably DH is incensed.  I am not quite sure I can describe on a public forum how Grandad might feel!!  However, I like to think of it as more of  a ‘winner’ mentality.  DS2 sees the other teams winning, and unfortunately, Liverpool doesn’t do much of that at the moment (nor has it done in recent years – I stand to be corrected in detail by DH on that sweeping statement!).  He sees Spurs and Arsenal scoring goals.  Chelsea and Man U are successful.  This is what he wants to emulate in the back garden when it is one-on-one with Daddy.

On the weekend, after much nagging, DH relented and bought DS2 an Arsenal baseball cap (it was that or a Man U cap – and even I refuse to line Man U’s pockets!).  Open floodgates.  DS1, the more loyal Liverpool fan of the 2 boys, now wants a Chelsea cap…….it looks like DH may grant that wish too!

So now, my boys are out the back, in their Barcelona kits and their Arsenal and Chelsea caps.  Winners all round.  I understand the sense of betrayal DH might feel, but at least they are channelling winner vibes…..that’s gotta count for something!!

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So Loved and Now Lost

I know it sounds overly dramatic to speak of a lost, inanimate, threadbare, much-in-need-of-a-wash, favourite comfy toy in that way, but that’s how I feel.  I can’t even begin to imagine how DD feels.

Today she went to the mall with Daddy and her brothers.  The boys had their pre-return-to-school-after-mid-term-break hair appointment.  DD was just tagging along.  Despite the usual gazillion warnings to leave H at home, it appears she didn’t.  Despite the usual gazillion pleas to leave H in the car just in case she gets lost, it appears she didn’t.

Today was the day H did not return home.

It was not until DH returned home that it became apparent that H was missing.  DH asked our helper, L to scour the house just in case H had not left it in the first place.  Then, he hopped in the car with all 3, and drove back to the mall to re-trace their steps.  In the meantime, DH texted me at work to let me know what had happened.  My heart sank and tears welled.  I could hardly focus.  I just wanted to drop everything and leave the office to join the search party.  But that was not possible.

Unfortunately, the searches at home and at the mall proved unfruitful.

A quick-thinking DH immediately took a very distressed DD to Build-a-Bear to make a new cuddly toy.  She chose a German shepherd pup.  Her twin brother suggested she name her, H, after her predecessor.  H it is; a constant reminder.

On my way home from work I tried to bolster myself for my beautiful DD.  I was in bits.  I cried, I sobbed, I couldn’t think of anything to say that would make the hurt go away.  I just wanted to scoop her up in my arms and magic away all the pain.

DH had said DD was holding up fine.  New H had been successful as a distraction.  I couldn’t quite believe it.  But, sure enough, when I got home, DD was ‘fine’.  ‘Fine’ on the surface.  I dreaded bedtime.

At bedtime the tears flowed from both DD and me.  She missed her desperately.  It feels like we have lost a member of the family.  In saying that, I do not mean for one second that losing a worn soft toy could equate to losing a real member of the family, but when you are 7 years old, and don’t understand much more than fun and playtime, it looks like your world has fallen apart.

I cried for my daughter.  I cried for H; the thought of her on her own after all those years of comfort she offered DD made it all the more unbearable.

Like the loss of anyone close, we are taking it day by day, moment by moment.  We encourage DD not to deny her sadness, to feel and to cry.  Hopefully, day by day, moment by moment, her pain will ease.

Tonight she asked if I still have the photo of H on the kitchen table.  Thankfully I have.  She wants to frame it and hang it in her room.  My brave, strong little girl.

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Trick or Treat?

Hallow’een has become like Christmas for the kids.  In the run up to the day, they talk about it non-stop and pour as much energy into the celebration as they do into writing their letters to Santa!  They drag me around the ‘Hallow’een sections of the stores, trying to sneak in at least one of each ghoulish item on sale!

Luckily, this year,  Hallow’een fell during half term.  Their ‘trick or treating’ hours could be extended.  My Ninja, Pup and Pirate were joined by their good friend the Hallow’een Pumpkin, and at 6pm, off we set on our candy tour of the neighbourhood.

A full moon.  A cool night.  It was perfect.

Many in our neighbourhood embrace this evening with gusto.  Cobwebs sprawl across front garden bushes and doorways, jack-o-lanterns light up the pathway to candy (or a scare from the occupants of the house!), seriously freakish skeletal figures guide one to the door of the owner.  One household transformed their front garden into a cemetary!  Another hung bulging plastic pumpkins from every branch of its impressive flame tree.  Another had decapitated heads of humans, and what appeared to be werew0lves, line the path to the front door, as if on parade.

Thankfully the kids are too young to appreciate the scare level of some of these efforts….but Mums and Dads enjoy it!

Excitement bristled through the dark night.  The kids skipped from house to house, filling their Hallow’een booty buckets with enough candy to last them till next Hallow’een.  After 2 hours on the vampire trail….I was shattered!  My knees were screaming for mercy (mental note: flip flops are not appropriate foot attire for a 2 hour candy trek!).  Thankfully DH was on hand to help carry the sugar laden bounty back to the ranch.

Fizzling excitement meant the kids needed to ‘count’ their candy haul before they went to bed…..it seemed to take forever….I swear they were eating every 2nd one!  And, with each sweetie, they recounted tales of their scary adventures that evening, which saw them run the gauntlet with skeletons dangling from porch rafters, screeching, devil-possessed cats, and shrieking, wicked witches!  As a rule of thumb, the amount of candy booty seems to be directly related to the level of bravery shown in the Hallow’een ‘trick or treat’ field; of course.

Their tales of bravery warm my heart, and spur them on to an even creepier Hallow’een next year!

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Seasons

are something that one feels Dubai is missing.

When asked, people will often say that there are only three real seasons in Dubai: hot, hotter and OMG, have I died and gone to hell?

And then we creep towards the end of October.  My car reads sub 30C temperatures at 7:15AM….Pick up at 2PM temps fight to remain under 40C.

We celebrate!  Winter is coming!  Whhoooaaahhhh!

I LOVE this time of year.  The skies are a cloudless blue.  The unbearable humidity silently slinks away to frizz another continent’s hair.  Dubai is more beautiful than ever.  Mornings are AWESOME.  Mornings are cool.  Even the birds sound chirpier and more upbeat, in contrast to their lethargic, monotone summer singing.

Like a child never wanting their birthday to end, or not wanting Christmas day to end, I do not want this weather to end.  This is truly the stuff of Dubaians’ dreams.  We slog out most of the summer here, sometimes feeling like there is no end in sight, and always feeling like the mercury is permanently stuck on ‘insanely hot’.  Living indoors is the only option, and cabin fever is unavoidable.

AND here it is….WINTER…….and it never disapponts – BLISS.

Life indoors is swapped for as much time as possible outside; pool, beach, biking, scooting, football/tennis/obstacle courses in the back garden.  The kids live in their swimsuits, flip flops and goggles.  Half of the desert’s sand seems to get dragged indoors, and no amount of sweeping, hoovering or mopping seems to help.  Who cares?!

Weekends are adventures.  ‘What shall we do today?’  So much choice, how will we fit it all in?

Sitting in the sea today, watching the kids splashing about and exploring the marine life, I turned to DH and remarked ‘we could be on holidays.’  It’s wonderful to be outside, feel the warmth of the sun, and the clear, cool water lapping at your feet, all accompanied by the snorting giggles of excited kids.  Dubai’s winter weekends are just like summer holidays!

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