Dubai Mummy

Aside from my Netflix meltdown, the new school year got off to a relatively calm, civilised start.  Unphased by the early morning wake up call and long school days, my trio have slipped back into their school day routine with ease (and even more surprisingly without complaint!). So far they have been reacquainted with their new class teachers, caught up with old friends and made new ones. Their brains are delicately being coaxed out from their summer hibernation, back to the world of thinking.  So far, so good although, in all fairness the first week is a ‘H’ free week (no homework as such; wouldn’t want to upset the happy apple cart).

At pick up, my bambinos have been full of energy; chatting animatedly about their day.  This week really could not have gotten off to a better start.  As pleased as I am with the seamless settling in, I have been quite surprised just how quickly the school is willing to get back to work, especially when it comes to school sports’ teams.

Day 1 – return to school.  Schedule for school team trials issued by the end fo the day (Seriously???).

Day 2 – Swim squad trials for Y6.  Football trials for Y4.

Day 3 – Football trials for Y6 boys and girls (separately).  Swim trials for Y4. Netball trials for Y6.

Day 4 – Ker-ching…welcome to your new life for the academic year 2016/7……Enjoy (and BTW, organise it!)

I drive, therefore I am.

Juggling 3 kids’ schedules is becoming increasingly difficult.  After swim squad trials DD announced ‘I think I made competitive squad’.  My shoulders visibly slumped.  Proud?  Yes.  Happy? Not so much.  I know that means at least one pre-school training sesh which means me getting to school for a 6:45am training session on top of an afternoon session which inevitably will clash with a sibling’s session. DS1 chimed in with his prospects of getting into the development swim squad...another early morning.  Apparently DS1’s footie training will be pre-school hours too…..fab!  Just waiting to hear about DD’s netball and footie…..and I haven’t even thought about the external activities….

I am not qualified to organise all of this…car pools…..here I come!!!

Dubai somehow always knows to turn on the humidity for the first day of the new school year.  Yesterday the heat was almost bearable due to the gusty breeze, but today felt like a sauna as kids reluctantly shuffled their shiny new black shoes through the sandy car park to the school gates.  Obligatory photos of perfect looking kiddos in their perfect new uniforms – check.  Obligatory introduction to teachers – check.  Obligatory exchange of summer adventures with other Mums – check.

A sense of calm and relaxation welcomed me as I left the school to walk to my car.  I smiled knowing my munchkins were happy to be catching up with their friends.  Yet opening the door to an empty and eerily silent house I felt something was missing.  As I made a cup of tea, I have to admit I felt a little lost……with no squabbles to umpire and no demands for snacks or entertainment, I wasn’t really sure  what I should do with my post-summer hols’ free time!

It wasn’t long before my mind filled with lists of things I could do: some were chores I had consigned to my ‘after summer, when the kids are back to school’ list; some involved the much promised post summer work out; and the rest fell under the ‘take it easy and relax’ category.

With my freshly made cup of tea in hand, I sat on the sofa to contemplate my options.  Staring right back at me from across the room was the TV screen……the voice of Phineas from the cartoon ‘Phineas and Ferb’ (who, each day of the summer holidays were faced with a similar dilemma to mine re: what to do) rang out in my head ‘Ferb, I know what we are going to do today.’

I am going to watch TV. Uninterrupted TV.  My choice of TV on screen bigger than an iPhone!

Given I would be alone for at least 3 hours with only lunch and toilet breaks to factor into my ‘me’ time, I decided a Netflix binge sesh was in order!  I live in a house of sports’ junkies.  We share one TV.  Our TV package was chosen by DH so he could keep up with the English Premiership football, cricket, F1, rugby etc., etc.  If my bambinos aren’t staring at sports on the ‘gogglebox’ they are looking up sports facts and watching sporting great re-runs on my laptop, their iPods or iPads.  A weekly series is just not something I can factor into my schedule…..I am a Mum to three busy kids….I don’t always remember to tune in at the right time.

So, Netflix it was……

To date, the kids are the only ones who have accessed Netflix on the TV, whereas I have only ever used it on my iPhone – a simple click on the Netflix icon and choose your preferred series.  Just how different could it be on a TV?

I knew I had to change the mode of the TV to HDMI.  Done.  Turn on XBox. Done.  Sign in.  Done (albeit a lot slower than my kids can do it – sausage fingers are a definite disadvantage in the 21st century!). Faced with a familiar digital photo of Messi from FIFA 16 and a YouTube icon…….I was not quite sure what I should click next. There was no Netflix option.  How is it that when the bambinos watch it, it’s a matter of what seems like a gazillion, fluent clicks in record breaking time and they are happily inhaling another episode of Full House?? I try and am faced with YouTube vlogs about sweet 16 parties in the US???!!!  I panicked.  I now had 2 hours 30 minutes before I needed to move from my couch.  My precious binge minutes were ebbing away…..all because I had gotten used to my kids’ independence!

Frustrated, annoyed and feeling like the smart technology world had it in for me personally, I clicked on the up, down, sideways and re-set buttons desperately hoping to find the Netflix icon.  Short of flinging the remote at the screen, I tried everything…..and I only managed the circle timer that is sent by the smart technology world to test human patience……Perhaps I should have listened to my ‘inner Yogi’ and spent my time sweating it out in the gym….that was until the circle timer thingy magically produced Netflix….

To be honest….I am not quite sure what I did to get Netflix and dread another session….but at least I got 2 hours of uninterrupted TV for me!  Bliss!

To mark the start of the summer holidays we took off on our first family holiday of the year to Ho Chi Minh City, South Vietnam.  Rising at stoopid o’clock we wearily snuck out of the house to meet the taxi that would take us to Abu Dhabi airport.  That balmy Friday morning it seemed as if dawn was having a lie in as, by the time we reached the airport,  light had not yet won the battle against the night’s stars.

Having worked up to the last minute, our usually non existent ‘last-minute-buy-at-the-airport’ list had acquired a few items….all required before check-in.  As frequent departees from Abu Dhabi International, we were sure we could tick these items off our list with ease.  That was until we arrived at a different terminal; a less well-stocked terminal.  ‘Poof’ went the list – we couldn’t even buy a bottle of water, let alone a suitcase lock, hand sanitizer or reading material (read: glossy mags)……

Needless to say, with too much TV/Movie time to catch up on, none of us made any effort to make up for our lack of sleep……in all honesty we just about managed to tear our eyes away to eat airplane food!  Gotta love flying – trapped in a confined space, nothing to do but eat, drink and catch up on non PG movies!  All fun until the interruption of border formalities.

Now, this is DH’s and my third trip to Vietnam.  Granted, our first was almost 15 years ago….but who would have thought things have changed so much??  Ten minutes before landing, we were each issued with a yellow form (thank goodness I carry a pen in my bag…because the airline does not offer one with the form that is compulsory to fill in!).  Skim reading the form, I had to chuckle.  The form related to health.  Another chuckle. As my eyes scanned the form, I looked to the yellowing bruises on both arms – typhoid and Hep A….vaccinations recommended when travelling to Vietnam…administered 3 weeks prior and still showing. How is it that we need to complete medical info for a country where visitors are advised to vaccinate? Paraphrasing the form – ‘Have you vomited, had a temperature, felt unwell?’…..at least one of my kids has these symptoms every other day!  It doesn’t mean they have Ebola or Zika.  Not the warmest of welcomes Vietnam….but then if I had known what lay ahead….I might have laughed this one off.

Then came immigration. Before the Brexit vote, I had joked to my British husband that he would be in the other line at Dublin airport this summer, and for every other European holiday ! Post Brexit vote, one would have thought the UK passport could not pass much….alas when it came to Vietnam I was wrong.  UK – in.  Ireland, a member of the European Union since 1973 (same as the UK) –  not. Apparently the EU is not a recognised  Union, Angela Merkel…..$700 later….I and my kids have been granted 7 day visas.  Angela…how is this possible?  15 years ago, an Irish passport did not need a visa.  And now we do????  Irish Government??? But at the end of the day……how can the EU be broken down to individual countries?  It is a Union….so how is it that an Irish passport is treated differently?

Even though we live in a sun kissed holiday destination here in Dubai, it is always nice to depart our white, sandy shores for new destinations. Whilst our next holiday destination, Vietnam, is not new to DH or me, we thought it would be an interesting choice for a family holiday this summer.  The kiddos were excited (especially when we told them we will spend at least one day at the waterpark!)……that was until two days ago when I broke the news that they needed to have certain vaccinations before we travel.  Faced with three frowny faces, I was bombarded with moans and accusations of being mean, with DS2 declaring in a determined huff, he would be staying at home if it meant he didn’t have to have a ‘sharp needle stuck in my arm’.

Understanding vaccinations is difficult for kids; even moreso when the main reason is because we are visiting a developing country.  The thought of the jabs clearly preyed on DS2’s mind the most as he grilled me from the time I told him, right up until we arrived at the doctor’s office.  He wanted to know how many jabs?  Why were his going to be different to his siblings’?  Why did he have to have a follow up shot 6 months later and his siblings didn’t?  How big is the needle?  Will the doctor inject me in my butt?

My life was not made any easier by DS1 (who did not flinch when he was injected in the thigh!) who took immense pleasure in teasing his little brother by telling him the needle would be ginormous, and makes you feel like you are going to die…..

Refusing the opportunity to go first and rub it in his big brother’s face, my baby sat outside the nurse’s office as if awaiting corporal punishment.  DS1 waltzed out unphased after his jabs.  DD strolled out mutely.  DS2 was in tears before the nurse had even rolled up his sleeve!  He clung to me for dear life, doing all the things I advised him not to; stiffening, holding his breath and the worst…..looking at the needle as the nurse aimed for the injection site!!!

The nurse was already preparing for the second shot before my bub realised the first one was done and dusted.  I don’t think I have ever seen tears dry up sooo quickly! Once done, he beamed like a champ and practically skipped out the door to claim his sugary hero prize – a lollipop!

As with all medical procedures, the nurse had advised about potential side affects of the shots.  DD’s and DS1’s jabs included a booster which has the potential for stronger side effects.  However, it was DS2 who proved a concern a few hours later as I made the 5 min car trip to the supermarket.  Half way there he announced he felt sick.  I swerved onto one of Dubai’s commonplace sandy run offs.   Thankfully we travel with plastic bags in the car.  DD grabbed one and shoved it in front of her brother’s face.  Anything had to be better than vomiting outside in 45 degrees!

A former victim of motion sickness, I appreciated the value of a smooth, bump free ride.  With this in mind I crawled my way to my favoured parking spot (which is not at the supermarket), and taking care over every speedbump, I helped DS2 out of the car as if he were an invalid; ready to faint in my arms at any moment.  Jabs have never affected my kids in the past….

He was as white as a sheet.  His lips blanched and his legs buckled beneath him. I raced to get him indoors to the kinder AC temperatures.  Luckily the Dubai Kartdrome, where I park, offers indoor seating and a shop…….a few minutes of head between the knees combined with 7UP and my baby was feeling as right as rain.

‘Doing the math’ as our friends across the Irish pond would say, I reckon the jabs had nothing to do with the near fainting episode…..I believe the fact that DS1, on the jaunt to the supermarket, at the behest of DS2, tore off his brother’s plaster/band aid quickly and this sent him into a downward spin of shock……

DS2’s new motto – ‘Survived the jabs – failed the tabs’

The irony!

DS1 is now an ardent go kart racer. It all started a year ago, when DH bought our then 9 year old son a go kart (to this day I am sure he used the money he had earmarked for my Christmas gift from the Gold & Diamond park!). Looking back on an emotional karting rollercoaster that has been the past 12 months, I now appreciate how ‘green’ we were going into this karting business! We didn’t really think beyond wanting to give DS1 a chance at a sport where size didn’t matter; the opportunity to do something different which he could possibly do as a hobby or a career when he is older.

Neither DH or I understand much about cars, let alone karting. DH, with the help of Google and the friendly advice of the mechanics and team managers, has picked up a thing or two, but like me, is better off on the sidelines and leaving the technical stuff to the pros.

The atmosphere on race days is electric. The kids are excited and competitive. When not racing, they are bonding over the latest iPad games and exchanging tales of near misses at speeds of up to 100KP. Non-driving siblings seek each other out to escape the long day where the focus is not on them. Spectator parents are nervous. When the drivers get the green light, all thoughts of winning, competition and teams fade away as parents pray for a clean, incident free race.

Early on, when DS1 had not started racing and was just lapping the track to reach competitive times, a lovely mum whose two sons race told me about her race ritual. As her sons lined up on the grid, she couldn’t watch. She would turn her back, light up a cigarette and wait until the racers had passed the first bend. A friend would then signal to her to let her know if all drivers had managed to pass the first bend safely. Then she would return to the gantry to watch the full race. The one time she didn’t do this, her eldest was involved in a crash on the firset bend. At the time I am sure I thought this was a tad excessive….it couldn’t be all that bad, could it???

Fast forward 6 races and I believe I am worse!!! With each race I become even more nervous. I can’t watch. I hide out near the screen where the racers positions are updated via a tracking device on their karts. I pace backwards and forwards in a straight line, repeating a mantra in my head and willing it to be telepathically transported to DS1’s subconscious. Every now and then a collective groan of fear escapes the crowd indicating an incident; a moment when my mantra changes to prayers for everyone’s safety, especially my son’s. DD runs back and forth from the gantry to keep me updated on her twin brother’s progress. My mantra becomes changes depending on how DS1 is doing; becoming longer if he is losing places. If he is doing well, my mantra must be working so I remain consistent!

Indeed it seems I am not the only one who has developed rituals. DS1 has a lucky t-shirt he prefers to wear under his karting suit. The fact that it is snagged in a couple of places and that he has 8 more exactly like it is irrelevant. The snagged one is the one he was wearing when he raced to his first ever podium position. The tyres from his kart in that successful race have taken pride of place in his bedroom!

Even DH has taken to wearing his ‘lucky’ t-shirt…the one that he was wearing when DS1 got his fastest lap time…..whether it has been washed or not!

Now DD wants to get involved in the sport……at this rate, my rituals will last longer than the actual race days!