So it appears that I have no excuses for not cooking dinner anymore...

8.28.2013

If you follow me on Instagram (jmr0006), you already know that we had a visit from the movers this week! Unfortunately (for everyone involved), this is not all of our stuff- only our "express" shipment (and no, the humor in that is not lost on me). So our express shipment consisted of our kitchen stuff, the kids' cribs, most of the toys, some towels, some rugs, AND MY SHARK. Praise be to God, I am so happy to be reunited with a cleaning device. Sweet sweet Alicia here has been loaning me her Swiffer vac, and while it is immensely better than having nothing, I was really happy to get my Shark back. People can throw things on the floor again and I will not have a panic attack. I have the Shark. (That is not to say that I don't still wear my $3 plastic house slippers around anyway because why not? Am so fashion-forward.)

The movers were so fast once they started that I wasn't able to get a video of them using the lift. They only did three lifts, so once our HHG's get here, I should have more time to record them hoisting our couch up to the heavens.

Yes, his butt says "friends." I'm not entirely sure what that means.. other than I should quit staring at random people's butts.




How does his mother sleep at night??? (Assuming she hasn't already died from multiple heart attacks)


CARNAGE. CARNAGE EVERYWHERE.


Christmas x1000

Folks might have been slightly overwhelmed at going from 4 trains and 6 race cars to eleventy billion cars and books and tractors and blocks and plastic things. The next morning they both bypassed the toys and went straight for the box of books though. And if there's one thing I love, it's academia peace and quiet.


Also, baby cages.

Molly can rock the bedhead. Also, my children occasionally wear pants.

Only ??? more days til I sleep in a real bed! Huzzah!

Molly's first ponytail

8.22.2013

Poor Molly, nowhere on this blog have I documented your monthly baby milestones and achievements. (Let's laugh at the possibility of a physical baby book with paper where I write about your latest happenings.) But being second baby, you seem to take what you can get and yesterday while I was lying on the air mattress and you were throwing yourself into my kidneys with as much force as possible (you are so much stronger than you look), I realized that your hair is long enough to be pulled into a ponytail! I will have to go find you some mini ponytail holders (mine is quite large and in charge and giving you a very Pebbles Flintstone look). Fear not though, Korea seems to possess the cutest hair accessories known to man (or woman, I should say), so as long as I can keep you still long enough to fix your hair (a challenge in and of itself), you will be set.





I cannot get over how much you look like a baby doll in this photo. Also, I will never stop wanting your hair color.




That time I stopped and smelled the roses without taking any actual pictures of flowers (you: Thank God I've seen enough flowers here)

8.21.2013

I'm enjoying these slow mornings that don't involve taxis or buses or trains or carseats or sweating or...

No touchy, Meyer.


Muuuuuuch better.








Sam's shot. Very artsy, yes? Also, my coffee. Very creamy, yes? Yesssss...


All of the toys in our current possession. Definitely stimulating the creativity around here, I tell ya what!


Current favorite game: dump toys out and put them all back in the container. Lather, rinse, repeat.


This is all about as rare as a cheetah kissing an antelope so I am trying to document it as such.




Good boy. Bad haircut.

Yesterday afternoon we thought we had a major gas leak in our apartment after I ran the dryer, but after much investigation by our realtor and the apartment management, we realized that someone (and by "someone" I definitely mean "the guy our realtor sent over") hooked our washer up to a 1K transformer (!!!) and the thing was BURNING. Not like, actual flames and such, so I guess I should say it was smoking or on the verge of burning, but it gave us a reason to open all the windows (soooo not looking for a reason to do that) and let the kids eat Nilla wafers for dinner. A very "who giveth a shiteth" attitude was had last night. So to wake up and have kids that weren't whining nonstop was very refreshing. Let's hope this post doesn't jinx tomorrow for me..

That one time my camera took me on a little date

8.19.2013

These last few weeks have been rough. As in, I-mostly-look-forward-to-bedtime-and-not-much-else rough. I'm sure a lot of it is Molly's ongoing medical drama and not having a car or a piece of furniture or anything to cook with outside of that one cookie sheet we bought at the PX (which, oddly enough, has not baked any cookies yet! The horrors! I will fix that soon.). But I know some of it stems from me not having anything to do outside of watching the kids litter the floors with crumbs (OH THE MILLIONS OF CRUMBS) and wash the unending mounds of laundry. I need schedule, I need things to do, I need to stay busy. So I might be volunteering for a FRG leader position tomorrow. I might also have gone on a walk by myself and pretended like it's totally normal to be taking pictures of random flowers on the side of the road.

The pessimistic side of me is finding more and more things to not like about living here, but the optimistic side is all "It's so beeYOOtifull here! Come on! Let's go exploring!" So I stuck the kids with Steve (they got ice cream since I scalped Sam gave Sam a haircut earlier) and I headed out for my own walk.

*Let's pretend someone has time to edit pictures and they are all perfect and beeyootifull instead of straight outta the camera.



These have been blooming forever now (or wait, maybe only a few weeks actually)...


I dunno what this is, but I would imagine it's thistle, or thistle's first cousin. I know, I should just go ahead and frame my botany degree.


I dunno what these little beauties are, but there is the most beautiful field of rice patties behind them.


'Murica




I dunno what this little stand sells (are you sensing a theme yet? An I-don't-know-anything theme?) but I am loving the way it smells (like garlicky chicken smells). And I think that pioneer-like crank makes fresh-squeezed lemonade. Just call me Inspector Gadget. One day I'll try it all out and report back to you.


Look who I stumbled upon! The ice cream eaters.


It took Sam a solid three minutes before he noticed I was there and taking his picture. He thought he was just watching cars whizz through the intersection.




This is how I feel about walking up hills too.




One more, I couldn't help it.


Time to burn the last bits of ice-cream-energy at the playground.

You probably don't wanna be eating or even thinking about eating if you're gonna read this

8.13.2013

Thank you friends, for all your prayers and well-wishes for Molly (and my sanity). She is feeling fine and will be starting the *new and improved* antibiotics today.

I'm trying to think of a good way to recap all of this, but it's really early (just looked at the clock- not that early actually), and I've only had 3/4 cup of coffee, so I'm just going to dive right in.

As you might recall, we went to Hell and Molly got MRSA. Or so they assume since the only way to "officially" diagnose MRSA is to do a culture, and her boo-boo didn't have enough goop to do a culture. So she was on antibiotics for the supposed MRSA and had this nasty ugly scab on top of her boo-boo. The only way to describe it is to say that it looked like a newborn baby's belly button right before it falls off. NASTY!

After visiting the doctor one day, this belly button-looking scab fell off. And underneath it was a deep crater with lots of gross goop underneath. We went BACK to the doctor and she swabbed the crater to make sure there was no weird stuff growing in there. That was Friday. We went home (with NEW antibiotics! and cream!) and were told that we'd get a phone call only if the culture came back showing an infection. The weekend happened and honestly, we kinda forgot about it. I assume The Lab gets things back to doctors like they do on TV- in five minutes- so when we didn't hear anything on Friday, I assumed we were in the clear. Molly's crater was filling in and healing and there was no goop or anything gross going on in that area.

Then Monday rolls around and the doctor calls and says that her culture came back positive for a weird bacteria and she wanted to look at the crater again. So I load up the kids in the wagon, walk down the hill to the train station, buy tickets, lug kids in the wagon through the little checkpoints, wait on the platform for 15 minutes (because we always "just miss" the train), get on the air conditioned train for 5 minutes (not long enough!), get off at the Camp Casey stop, walk back through checkpoints, walk to post (soooo much sweat by this point), walk through the gate and checkpoint to the bus terminal, get kids out of the wagon and fold it up and throw everyone on the bus and ride to the TMC. Oh wait, I got on the wrong bus because I was so worried about getting the f!cking wagon pulled together and gathering up sweaty whiny kids, that I didn't even read the sign. So I waste time riding the bus BACK to the terminal, then wait for the RIGHT bus to come, then we ride THAT to the TMC. We see the doctor for 10 minutes and then do that whole cycle in reverse. Only there is more sweating involved in reverse because everything is uphill on the way back. I kid you not, I have never sweat more in my life than I have in the past three weeks.

ANYWHO. We get our sweaty selves back home and waited for the doctor to call us. She had to consult with all the other doctors about what to do in Molly's situation. They didn't know if they should give her oral medication because the medicine they give to treat her variety of bacteria is usually not given to children under age 8. But she didn't know if she should send her down to The Real Hospital for IV meds (once every 8 hours for 10 days) or if she should do shots (every 8 hours for 10 days noooooo...). In the end, they decided to send us down to The Real Hospital in Seoul for the IV meds. And I asked if we could just wait until the morning and ride the medical bus down. She says no. This has been "festering" for 3 weeks now (because it took that long to diagnose!) and we need to treat this asap. So we eat dinner, I throw clothes in bags, shower really quick (because omg the stink), and call a cab to take us to post. We arrive at the TMC at bedtime (naturally) and Molly is flipping out and eventually they put us in an ambulance to take us down to The Real Hospital. Except this ambulance is just a glorified van with no seat belts and he doesn't even turn on the siren and lights, so we are basically just being taxied down there in the special bus. Molly didn't sleep on the drive down because Korea seriously needs to do some road work and repave the millions of potholes they have goin on. We arrive at the ER at The Real Hospital and..... no one was expecting us. I'm not kidding. They had no idea we were coming.

Now I don't know if it was my responsibility to call The Real Hospital and let them know we'd be coming for some unknown medicine or what, but I am starting to think this is all a horrible idea and my child would benefit more from a full night's sleep in her own bed instead of getting one dose of three-weeks-late antibiotics in her system. All of the doctors are scratching their heads as I tell them our special story and how we ended up here and I think their faces accurately sum up government-run healthcare.

Eventually they place the IV and take us upstairs to be admitted. The loud-mouth night shift nurse yells everything she says, despite me finally getting Molly to sleep. She bursts in all night, and when she doesn't, they are doing some sort of construction work on the same floor. I initially thought I was upgrading to a real bed and air conditioning (the silver lining of this situation, folks!), but I would take the air mattress and lack of air any day.

The next morning rolls around (after a lot of co-laying, because ain't no such thing in my house as co-sleeping) and she gets one more dose of the antibiotics. Did I mention that her arm is wrapped up on a board? (She loved that so much, let me tell you. It was to help keep her from bending her arm and popping the IV out. She hulked her way out of it more than once.)


Steve and Sam stayed back home in order to keep with The Schedule and took the train down that morning. (For the record, we have never taken the train to Seoul and Steve didn't know where he was going. Who cares, it seemed like a good day to learn....) Eventually they made it here (soaked in sweat) and we hung out in the room for a little bit all together.

The doctor finally comes in (around lunch time) and tells us that they had a consult with Tripler (the Army hospital in Hawaii) and they apparently have an infectious diseases specialist there who OKed Molly to take the oral antibiotic instead of having the IV meds. Cue my happy dance. Molly is to take the oral medicine twice a day and then have bloodwork done at her follow-up appointments to make sure she is bacteria-free. We get our discharge papers and head down to the pharmacy....


... where they don't have our medicine in stock. BECAUSE WHY WOULD THEY CHECK ON THAT BEFORE DISCHARGING US. So the pharmacist says they are going to call around and see if they can find it elsewhere or if they can make it (?) and we are all, We are at the mercy of the bus schedule, so can you kindly speed-walk it back there and figure this all out?! After more waiting (nap schedule- to the wind!), we are told that they can't find it, they'll have to make it. She tells us that we can ride the bus back and they will ship the medicine up to Camp Casey in the morning.

We catch the bus, then transfer buses, then get off at Camp Casey (after 2 hours and soooooo much screaming because naptime, hello!), then walk off post to the train station, wait 15 minutes for the train (sweating is out of control at this point), get on the train, toddler has meltdown as soon as the doors shut, refrain from committing murder in such a public place, get off the train, carry the screaming toddler down the stairs and out the door as Molly is strapped on my back (Steve bringing up the rear with the bags and the wagon), walk back up the hill to our apartment, and crank the AC as high as it will go.

The moral of this story is: If anyone you know is trying to be hip and cool and says something like, "I just love the pedestrian lifestyle! Having no car is fun!", I urge you, strongly urge you, friends, to loudly call BULLSHIT. Alternative moral: Wash your hands a lot.

**PS. Just upgraded my Photobucket account but apparently it hasn't kicked in yet, hence all the strange boxes in the sidebar and in previous posts. Hopefully this fixes itself because we all know I have no clue how to do it on my own.**

It's our anniversary and we're celebrating by sending Steve back to work

8.07.2013

Five different addresses


Four years of marriage


Three months (exactly!) home from deployment


Two cute kids


One love that only keeps getting bigger and better


Happy anniversary, Steve! I married up and I know it. I love you.

That one time I paid to be physically assaulted

8.05.2013

Steve, being the loving husband that he is, went into the city and found a place that does massages. He wanted to reward me in some way for the Hell that was our trip here. He used some sort of broken English and managed to make me an appointment for today. I was looking forward to this, but somewhat nervous. I've never had a massage before. I didn't know what was going to happen. Steve has given me back rubs before and they've always been nice, so I figured it would just be that experience on steroids. And I don't wanna brag or anything (but get ready because I'm totally fixin' to brag), but if I ask Steve for a back rub, he will usually give me one. Even if I ask for one every single night. He's amazing like that. But where were we? Back to the massage.

I go up to this massage place and am totally prepared for them to speak zero English. And they don't. I take off my shoes as I walk in the door and they give me a pair of slippers that were made for someone with feet approximately three sizes smaller (and skinnier) than mine.

See how far those fat toes fall short of the end of the slipper?

I'm told, in a sign language sort of way, to take off all my clothes and put on some paper panties and a velcro muumuu. After getting all gussied up, I am led to a massage table.... in a room with six other massage tables. Luckily I can't speak or understand Korean, so if they are cracking jokes about the chubby white girl, at least I won't know. (Ignorance is bliss...) I lie face-down on the table with the top half of my jiggly derriere hanging out of the paper panties, and the masseuse proceeds to take off the top 8 layers of my skin with some handheld contraption that she is applying with more force than is necessary. The first few times she does it, it's bearable and I can talk myself into it feeling almost pleasant. By minute five of scrubbing the same patch of skin off my lower armpit, I am starting to feel a sensation known as extreme pain. I even lifted my head up and made the universal face for "OMG you are killing me" and she said, "Pain?" and pointed to where she was de-scaling me. I nodded yes and put my head back down. And she started right back where she left off.

After my skin was as shiny as a brand new penny, I felt her hop on my backside and straddle me. This wouldn't have been quite as weird if she had scooted my paper panties back up to their proper location. She attempts to break both of my legs off and make me pigeon-toed all at the same time. Then I felt a ton of pressure on the back of my thighs and I thought she had moved her knees up to sit on them. But I look at the wall of mirrors to see her STANDING ON ME AND WALKING AROUND OMG. I kid you not, folks.

The next portion of this assault involved a giant metal...... vibrator (?) and she took to pressing that into my back and telling me to relax. The vibrations were almost soothing compared to the previous types of torture and just as I was about to fall asleep, she stopped. I hear her cranking knobs for another machine and I assume it's something similar so I don't even look up. She puts something on my back and I feel it pinch me! Son of a mother! It really hurt. She picks it up and moves it further down my spine. It pinched me again! She gets to an area with considerably more skin to pinch (ahem, midsection), and this machine sucked my skin up into a vacuum, twisted it, and then held it before it finally released! How the hell that is supposed to make anyone relax is beyond me.

At this point, I am looking at the clock and begging time to speed up. But time likes me almost as much as the Army likes my plans, so it doesn't. The lady rubs a bunch of oil on my back and then starts wrapping me in a giant plastic grocery bag. After I'm wrapped with my arms by my sides (still face-down), she lays some towels over me and then places a little dome over the top of me. This little dome blows out heat. Because maybe they think I have trouble sweating here? (I assure you, I DO NOT.) And then she leaves me to sweat it out for 20 or so minutes. It was so gross and weirdly refreshing to feel tons and tons of sweat just roll off my back. I mean, I was over that whole sensation after about a minute of lying in a Walmart bag in a pool of my own sweat, but for a second there I felt "cleansed." Many of the slowest minutes later, she comes back and takes off my soaking wet saran wrap and probably did her best not to gag as she rubbed me down with a towel.

She kept motioning wildly with her hands, and stupid me, I'm just asking her what to do in English. "So you want me to roll over? Sit up? Stay here?" Finally I figure out to turn over and she starts in on my front side. And omg y'all, I just didn't think I could handle what she did to my back over again on my front. But she basically just did a chest/boob massage, tried to lengthen me by way of pulling my hair, arms, and neck, put my hair up in a cute 'do, and karate-chopped my back while I sat up until everyone had seen waaaaaaayyyyy too much of my naked front side.

Eventually the massage is over.

Amen and hallelujah.

I put my clothes back on and exchange my too-small slippers for my gigantic oaf-feet sandals. I try not to look like what just happened was more painful than childbirth. She gives me a hair bow for Molly. As I'm walking out the door, the other two girls who were massaging a lady next to me, run up and say very excitedly, "We see you again soooooonn!! Bye bye!!"

I hobbled home and tried to tell Steve all the details and how badly it hurt. "Why would you ask for the Abuse Massage for me? You should have said something about being 'gentle' and how I'm a pansy American." He didn't believe that it was so painful, but I tell him to see how shiny my back surely is and lo and behold, he can see where they bruised me. So yes, weird suction cup twisters and full body weight on my thighs and a sickening sweat is considered semi-un-enjoyable in my book. The bright side is that I spent two hours (yes, sweet Moses it was a very solid two hours) by myself and was horizontal for most of it. That's usually my prerequisite for a good time, but I'm starting to rethink that. I don't know if I can recommend a Korean massage to you, dear friends. But if I suddenly drop 20lbs and never sweat again, you can bet your bottom won that I'll be their poster child and scheduling a weekly beating.

Oh and this knocks off #18, albeit painfully.

Lots of pictures and a post about nothing in particular

8.02.2013

We finally made it into our apartment! I'm holding out on doing a "tour" until our furniture arrives. Otherwise you'd just be staring at my dirty floors, and I can't have that.

So far we are loving the rooms-with-doors part, the space, the location, and the view.

Location-wise, we are a short walk away from "the city" and everything it has to offer (and loving it).

Imma hah sum caffee.

Steve took Sam to Dunkin Donuts this morning during Molly's nap and brought us back some treats. (Because yes, we can easily walk to Dunkin Donuts. Location, location, location.)


Instead of being filled with jelly or cream, Steve is enchanted by these donuts filled with fruit, like mango, strawberry, and peach.


It's a shame the kids don't like them at all...





After donuts, it's officially time to use Daddy as a jungle gym...


... make important phone calls...


... check out the sights...



... race the cars...


... make out with the air conditioner...

I love it that much too, Molly.

... bowl Daddy over with kisses...


... pretend to snuggle... (He had just gotten scolded for slapping..)

... envy this child's hair...

Oh how I want it all! From her perfect ringlets to her color, I can't get over it.

... hydrate...


... and be completely silly...

This might be a framer, folks.
We're really enjoying Korea so far, and I'm documenting a lot of it on Instagram (jmr0006). So if you're looking for bad translations, funny signs, and interesting sights, you should follow me.

***Thank you all for your condolences regarding my sanity in that last post. Had some wine for the first time last night and I feel like that's a major step in the right direction. Steve also scheduled me a 90 minute massage for Monday as a "please-don't-go-crazy" gesture, so that doesn't hurt either.***

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