a monument to me

I took four kids to the beach today.  My older cousin, Emine abla took Baba to the hospital to get his prescriptions.  The younger pregnant one, Gizem, was tired and stayed at the house with her 2 year old, and I took my three and Duru to the beach.

Walking down the path - Teoman spotted our beach friend's grandma.  She is Russian and speaks neither Turkish or English, but they ran and caught up to her anyhow and walked beside her.  The woman suddenly had three children she had to cross the road with, whether she wanted to or not.  The path to the beach is between houses in a community, so the "streets" we cross are quiet and small - so it wasn't actually a concern of mine, but it was nice having a pseudo extra person.  I didn't want an extra child - but I hadn't wanted to stay around the house longer either.  Duru isn't terrible - it's just hard to motivate myself to take on an extra child.  The sea was clear and Tuana charged right in ... I guess she missed the sea.  So did Teoman and Tomris, as all four of us bobbed around the light waves. Tuana was lifting her feet and kicking - and in the end, she put her head on my shoulder and might have even slept - it was such a good day at the beach.  But I had to keep it short because Duru was still recovering from sunburn - and my kids were having meltdowns too.  So, while they complained, I packed up.

My beach friend said I should have a monument next to the ridiculous white bear for bringing all four today.  I know in my heart how much I fail each day - but I felt boosted by her appreciation anyhow.

they want to go to Ankara

This was Tolga's last day here and it wasn't any easier with our guests around.  Tolga's conversations are with his older cousin.  My hands are full with my kids, but with our cousins kids I was dealing with things I just didn't want to deal with today.  I'm putting food for Tomris - and Duru says, "I don't want that!"  

(Uh, I wasn't planning on giving it to you).  "Are you hungry?"

"No." (Me putting another type of food on Teoman's plate) "Give it to me!"  That's the six year old who's here with her grandmother while her mother works and her father is with a new woman.    The two year old refuses to eat - so while all the kids are sitting down, my cousins are hollering.  

"Don't talk.  Hurry up and eat!"

I understand why they are staying this - but there isn't constant stress around basic activities, and not so basic.  I put out a sprinkler, and they don't want the kids getting muddy or wet or cold.  (Which, I've once again confirmed all cultural beliefs as all three of my kids are sick now with runny/stuffy noses: the curse of the cold feet/AC/breeze).  

We escaped in the afternoon clearly not inviting anyone with us.  We had cold coffees/milkshakes, went to an indoor play area, and had fast food dinner before bringing Tolga to the bus station.  At dinner, Tolga asked Tomris if she was going to cry this time when he left.  She answered immediately, "I'm going to cry so bad."  The last time Tolga left was hard on the kids.  I guess they've hit that age where it's hardest.  Or maybe because we are away from Ankara.  I'm not sure, but these departures are awful.  Teoman wouldn't let go of Tolga. He demanded that he take him with to Ankara.  He was hysterical and it was hard for both of us to bear after what he's been through this summer.  

Scene: Airport bus and it's drivers.  An orange cat.  

Action: Teoman crying like he's never cried before.  Tomris crying.  Tuana about to cry but distracted by the orange cat.  Me.

Tolga: Do you want some money to buy ice cream?

Teoman: (crying) no.

Tomris: yes.

Tuana: doo dam! (that's means ice cream!)  

contradictions

Setting: terrace dinner time

Gizem: Sila, quick eat or Tuana’s going to eat your food.

Anne: Sila, I’m going to eat your food.  

Gizem: Sila if you don’t eat you won’t get ice cream.  Quick, your father will be mad!  Slow down!

Emine Able: Sit down, my young [overweight 6 month pregnant] bride will get you tea.  

Setting: walking to the beach

Gizem: Daughter!  Hurry up! (Child runs)  Slow down!  You’re going to fall.  (She stops) Come!  The dogs are going to get you!  Run!  (She runs).  Slow down!

hard to go with flow

My Turkish relatives are bringing out the Turkish in Anne too.  They’ve cried together about her health.  Her back is hurting her, she is sweating a lot, and her heart is pounding.  Baba is hard to manage, beginning to lose his mind, and everyone seems to have forgotten about his sugar problem.

I don’t know what to do with myself - or more particularly, my emotions when it comes to my Turkish family. 

I am torn in my desire to interweave our cultures together.  I am disgusted when I see others reject integral parts of Turkish culture while inserting themselves here in this land, schools, culture.  And I am frustrated with the culture of my own Turkish family, rejecting the very ones, and I love doing the very thing I hate.  

I don’t know the answer - but I’m working on it - on a personal level, professional level, and philosophical level.  

Just not very successfully because its not all cultural - some of its just me: I want to feed my own kids, I have different mops for indoors, outdoors, and the bathrooms, that is not a bowl - this is a bowl, please put suncream and hat on your own kid.

escaping relatives

Is it too soon?

They aren't bad, per se, they are just...more noise I guess.  Yesterday morning we left before them - Tolga went fishing, and the kids and I - a few hours later but before everyone else got up - left as well getting simit and going to the beach.  The water was still with hardly a ripple, and clear - you could go out far in a boat and see far down to the bottom.  Tolga and Gokalp abi came to shore when they saw us and Tolga rowed the kids around in the small boat and Tuana and I played in the sand.  Tuana loves the water too - but by the time our relatives came, two adults and two more children - our kids were crying or fighting.  Their younger one was crying too as they forced her into the water to like it - its so stressful being around crying children, and mine were enough to handle as it was.  I packed them all up and took them home to rest.

Today, we split up from our relatives again - they went to Kusadasi center, we went to the water park, and their six year old stayed with Anne because they decided she was sick and tired.

I guess the stress comes because our living styles are in such conflict.  We use air conditioners, run around in bare feet, drink cold water, drink some, we get up early and go to be early.  Our relatives use oil, butter, and salt, they keep the kids up until they go to bed, the four sleep in one single room that has a bunk bed - no one is sleeping in the car bed and I'm not sure why.  They use glass cups and plates with their kids and chase the younger one around with food saying, "She doesn't eat.  She never eats.  She only eats with television..." Etcetera.

I kind of lost my patience with my older cousin.  They were complaining that Tuana was always crying.  She does cry a lot, for little things.  She is incredibly cute and adored by all strangers, but is constantly needing/wanting me - and its hard to do it all.  My aunt looked at me the other day and said: she is crying a lot.
Yes. She is.  And there's not much I'm going to do about it.  She cries for something she wants or being tired - and I do my best to give her what she needs, not just what she wants, and I try to soothe her, and I usually can - but its all a process.  A painfully loud process.  Sigh.

Emin abla, who I am still not sure if she has her teeth this trip, said to me,
"You arms are burned.  Burned!"  The water park was always a highlight for the kids, but my arms weren't burnt because I worse 50 sunblock and a t-shirt.  She kissed my arm with her formless mouth and put her other hand on my belly.  "Is there a baby here?"
"No."
She jiggled my belly again, "Is there a baby in here.  Tell me the truth."
"No! Stop it!" Stop shaking my fat! 
"You need to have another baby.  A boy.  Two boys and two girls."

Arrrgggh!

Wringer - Review

Wringer by Jerry Spinelli is about a 9 year old boy living in a town that has tradition every summer, at the end of the Family Fest, to have a pigeon shooting contest.  Five thousand pigeons are brought in the night before, released and shot out of the sky.  The fallen birds are collected by the 10 yr old boys and counted for points based on a clean kill or wounded.  The wounded birds have the necks wrung by the 10 yr olds to "put them out of their misery".  The boy, Palmer, knows he doesn't want to be a wringer, and the looming event haunts him as does the smell of gun smoke and the orange button eyes of the birds.  Palmer has also been newly initiated into a relatively innocent gang of boys where being wringers, The Treatment, having a nick name, and so on - is a part of the tradition of growing up (even Palmer's dad experienced all these things).

What I liked: The book is written around this one event - and the dread and anticipation of it is done so well.  The combination of the boy's real emotions, and a 9 year olds misperceptions are very believable.  The boy is unable to express and sometimes even identify what he is really feeling - laughing with the boys, and then running away crying - and it is beautiful and sensitive writing.

What I didn't like:  The event and the boys emotions has the somberness of a trauma.  Trauma and the subsequent pain that haunts children is a heavy topic - and the book was written as such, just using the "lighter" prop of pigeons as the source.  There was some resolve at the end, but not enough.

Also, I'm not sure the opening image made sense:  "He did not want to be a wringer . . . it was deep inside.  In the stomach, like hunger."  Spinelli goes on  to say its different because hunger comes and goes - and I have to say it's different because hunger is associated with something you want or need, but it's the opposite, he doesn't want to be a wringer.  So I'm not sure the image worked here.




What I would have like to read: If the book is going to be so heavy, and trauma like - let's get the ending to treat the root of the problem, as needed in real traumas - not the by-product.  I know I'm always too much for the happy unrealistic ending - but I would have liked the town to have seen and understood the horror the boy felt, or at least - be more empathetic.  It may be too cheesy - but ending Pigeon Day all together I would have felt more resolve.

Quotes:
"Sometimes his mother tried to make something come true simply by saying it." p22
"You can thank a pigeon for the swings at the playground." p38 (justification for the Pigeon Shoot day where proceeds go to the upkeep of the public park).

"A voice came out of the crowd. 'How will we know if it's dead or not?'
Somebody yipped, 'Take its pulse!'
The man's' glare cut off the laughter.
The trees were silent.
'You'll know,' said the man.
The sky was empty." p97

"During the week his father said many things, mostly with his hands.  He rubbed Palmer's hair and squeezed his shoulder and tugged on his shirt and tickled his ribs and pulled him backward with a finger hooked in the back pocket of his jeans and lightly brushed the side of his neck with his fingertips as he stopped and chatted with friends.  Each of these things had a different meaning to Palmer and yet the same - a language unleaded, of words unheard, that came to roost at some warm and waiting perch far below his ears." p127

"It is the boy who, so to speak, wears the collar, that it is never the pigeon, but the boy, who is lost." p135

family guests

With guests, it gets a bit confusing for me what my role is.  It's a great dilemma for me that I'm still trying to find my way in.  The Turkish bride typically does all the work.  As a Christian I should be gladly serving people.  And, as a person - I do like to serve, help, and make people happy.

But as Scandinavian, or Protestant, Peterson or whatever you want to attribute this too - I don't like to pretend or perform.  Logic takes precedence of custom, and politeness means to do whats right in the situation.  So, I'm usually focused on my kids rather than what I should be doing for others.

With Emine abla it can be more confusing.  She seems to have brought "my bride" to fulfill this role - but she's 6 months pregnant and Emine abla is a machine in the kitchen, seemingly not needing help.  

When my sister-in-law would come - she'd do a similar thing - come in the kitchen and take over.  The was Turkish, and when I would stand foolishly around the kitchen offering my help for whatever she was planning on doing - her German side would answer, "No, I'll do it."  

Emine abla actually kicks me out of the kitchen.  

I have some cousins that would hand me a rag, or a tomato to cut - and I liked these cousins best, they included me, made use of me - and it was bonding.  The others feel like a hostile take over.  

Tolga was hiding upstairs.  I was feeding my kids as I usually do.  Gizem was half helping set the table and half following her daughter around with a spoon or fork of this or that.  Anne was sitting.  She said her back was horrible.  (She also didn't seem to know what to do).  Emine abla was working in the kitchen with  a lot of oil.  Another Turkish habit.

Our kids went over to the neighbors, Tolga found some more work to do .. and so did I actually.  I couldn't help clean up because I was chasing Tuana - I started to help, as usually - but as usual I'm pulled away.  Eventually Tolga got everyone out the door to the beach.  It was around noon - so I put Tuana to sleep upstairs.  While she slept I swept, vacuumed and mopped the house, washed the balcony, collected some dry clothes, hung some washed clothes, put another load in - and Tuana woke up.  We changed and joined the others in the heat of the day when the UV idex was 9.  Tolga, Emine abla, Gokalp abi, Tolga and Gizem were sitting under an umbrella.  Teoman, Tomris, and Duru were playing with a new boat - it was a large and hard inflatable row boat - not a toy, and just strong enough to use in the sea, at least near the shore.  Gokalp abi was desperate to go fishitng - and he and Tolga were planning their shoreline escapades.  The showed me the small worms they had collected from the sand.

I didn't know there were worms in the sand and gagged on the poagca I was eating.  

barbecue with relatives

With Tolga here we have a million things we want to do - and resting is one of them.  After yesterday's long day, we got up late, had a leisurely breakfast, drinking tea, fixing some things around the house, and a late afternoon swim.  The water doesn't seem as clean in the afternoon, either wavy or stale, depending on the wind that day - but always hot and sunny, so refreshing anyhow.  

In the evening we had a barbecue of köfte and kebabs.  In the middle of cooking the meat, Tolga went to the bus station to pick up some visiting cousins, and we all sat down to eat, and a little bit later, more cousins came.  

So, a few things about this:
1) Our Kusadasi home is an open to any and all who come - and different relatives come for vacation here and I usually like the company - Anne complains about the trouble - she has to clean, and wash, and wear nicer clothes.  She becomes more dramatic in her ailments.  But she loves it too - there  is someone to chat with, and many to help around the home.  


2) Tolga doesn't like it anymore because he's only visiting for a short time from the field and would like to spend time with us.  But, when Tolga's here, all the relatives, his parents, his kids, his wife - we all want to talk to Tolga, spend time with him, get his help - and he gets a little crazy.

Our cousin Emine abla is about 65 years old (I don't know how she is a cousin, but its this way for most of our Turkish cousins) and lives in Ankara.  Last time I saw her, she had very few teeth.  I'm not sure what happened to them, or if they are back yet or not.  But its on my mind.  She is very kind, giving, energetic, and a bit crazy.  She has six kids and her husband has a second wife and more children in a different city, apparently - I don't ask a lot of questions.  She brings gifts every time she comes and usually takes over our kitchen.  She wouldn't serve the cake I made to our second batch of guests (most Turks don't like the American food I make - I'm not sure what was wrong with the angle food cake I made - I mean, it was from a box...that said, Anne is always proud to eat it and tell others I made it - so I put it on the table anyhow as an act of culinary defiance), and she cleaned our entire kitchen countertop ... with acid.  

I can't stop her.  

Emine abla also brought with her one of her son's bride - Gizem, and her 3 year old daughter, and her Emine abla brought her daughters 6 year old girl - Duru.  I asked, "What if Duru misses her mom?"
"She may come then too."  They also told Tolga the father had left the family because of some Christian Black Magic.  There's a Turkish word for it, it's an actual thing.  Those Christians.

When the second batch of relatives showed up around 10pm - Emine abla prepared the table again with cookies and cakes, serving tea and everyone sitting, chatting, smoking and laughing.  Anne was sitting down because of back pain.  Gizem is overweight and 6 months pregnant - helping some in the kitchen, and chasing her 3 year old around with a spoon trying to get her to eat.  I had gone upstairs to put Tuana to sleep, and brought her right back down so everyone could see her, then said goodnight again.  Teoman and Tomris went to bed soon after that - and once all were asleep and guests were gone, Tolga and I sat with a beer on our roof balcony enjoying the quiet.  

birthday celebrations

Last year was a tough birthday.  I was leaving a sick father, coming back to a place that had just experienced a coupe, and I as turning forty.

We made it through those things, and this year - this birthday - had a different feel.  Maybe because Teoman's sickness, maybe because Tolga's here, maybe because others joined the celebrations - but it meant more to me this year.

We got up and went to a hotel - paid for the day - breakfast, pools indoor and out, chaise lounge and the sea.  The kids loved it.  I loved the sea part - there's more rock and sea grass so snorkeling was much better.  The indoor pool was cool, the outdoor was hot, baking from the sun, and the sea was beautiful.  We didn't sit or relax much, and hadn't planned the whole day there - but when we finally left around 3pm we were in desperate need of cold coffees - so we got the kids some drinks and french fries and treated our self to ice coffee.

At some point I talked to Sherah and Josh - my sister and brother.  My sister ended the conversation saying, "Call me when you're not busy."  I've explained this to her before, there is no such time - but I just say okay now.  When Josh called he too got annoyed with all the activity in the background.  He said,
 "Well, it is frustrating to talk to you."
  "It's frustrating to think."
  "Just tell her to stop blowing the flute."
I did.  Then it's stop taking this from your sister. Stop fighting.  Don't laugh so loud.  Stop being you and start being a robot... You tell her.  It's not as easy as you think.  

Our plan was to put the kids to be early and go out ourselves.  I didn't have my heart set on it - Tuana doesn't do well without me or the nanny - but we told my mom we would.  So after the dinner, attempting to put our overtired kids to bed early went terribly.  They played, they fought, they laughed, they cried, we were interrupted with FaceTime calls.

baba's home

Tolga came late last night - almost one in the morning.  He will be on vacation this week and I think we were all excited for his coming.

We had the scale out today weighing ourselves - Tolga was teasing his father about his weight.  His father insisted he was 85 kilos, which there was no way he was that - and Tolga said he must by 95 kilos.  HIs father stepped on the scale and he was 95.4 kilos - Tolga was right on and laughed while Baba looked shocked and confused.  Tuana was nearby and saw us - so she stepped on the scale.  11 kilos.  Tomris stepped on the scale next 17.4 kilos.  Then Teoman - 18.3 kilos.  Tolga and I looked at each other to share the tough realization - Teoman's pre-op check he was 19 kilos.

We had breakfast together than drove to Izmir for Teoman's check-up.  He's slept for three nights now with no problem at all - and its such a relief.  He just has a little trouble bending over still.  Tomris threw up on the way there - in her throw-up bucket.  Tolga dropped us off and parked, we went down to the office right on time.  The doctor said everything looked fine.  Teoman had sensitivity around his belly button, he said it was normal.  His said the protruding belly button would go down with time.  He showed us on a diagram what he did and then called an assistant to take a picture with what he called "The Simpsons" - Bart, Lisa, and Marge.  We are happy and grateful for Teoman's health, but still have our doubts about the doctor and the things he did.  Its hard to trust someone who seems impressed with himself.

On the way back home, Tuana threw up - but she hasn't learned the bucket yet.

My birthday celebrations started today too.  The kids woke me up and gave me my iPad Pro.  I hadn't asked for it - but when my screen broke, Tolga had decided to buy another - he got me a pink one with a pink cover (oh, how I've changed) and inscribed on the back "to Rachel from the family with Love".  I feel so spoiled.  In the evening, Anne gave me a summer dress she'd run out and bought that day while we were in Izmir.  Gokalp abi and another cousin Fisun had gone with her and got me small gifts as well - a swim cover and light pants - it was sweet and a first for me to get presents from others outside of the family.  It was nice to celebrate with others.

our home, part #2

Our home is filled with tacky oversized couches - lavender in color but usually covered with even tackier couch protectors - so sweaty dirty bodies can lay down and relax.  It’s got a half bathroom to the left of the front entrance and the kitchen door and small kitchen to the right.  The kitchen and living room both have sliding doors that open into the terrace where most of our meals are eaten.  The living room has two additional windows as well, and no dining room table.  

Marble stairs climb and turn and climb and turn up two more levels.  The second level has two single bedrooms - the first room with a bunk bed and the last one with a car bed.  The car bedroom has its own small balcony and a nice breeze, but suffers from direct sunlight in the afternoon through the sliding door.  The middle bedroom has a sliding door and balcony as well - a bit larger - where most of our laundry is hung.  The middle bedroom has a queen sized bed and across from this bedroom is a full bathroom with a washing machine and a recently inherited dryer.  

The third floor is our floor.  We enlarged the bathroom so it has a huge shower (we have no bathtubs in Kusadasi) with a bench and a simple dividing glass between the shower and the toilet.  I can very easily hose off all three kids in this shower - it’s perfect.  

Our bedroom has french doors that open into a large room where we have full size bed, two side tables, a crib, a small sofa, a long dresser, and a sitting chair with a foot stool.  It also has a sliding door onto a balcony.  Between our room and the bathroom is a door outside to an even larger balcony that Tolga and I often sit on in the evening drinking beer and looking at the stars.

our home part #1

Our summer home is in a typical Turkish style community - a community of 30 or so identical duplex homes sprinkled with mandarin trees.   To the north of our community is Alisah Site, to the south of us is a soccer field, water park, and hotel, and to the west of us is the oldest community - Idarecelar Site.  Each site has it’s set of rules, maintenance, and security.  A site manager that collects garbage or cares for the gardens in the communal sites, sprays mosquito repellant into the air with a tractor a few nights a week.  I supposed the uneven road of pavers may be the community’s responsibility too.  

Our house is in the northwestern corner of the community which puts us the closest to the sea.  To our north is our dead-end road/driveway, some land, and the neighboring communities dead-end road.  To our west is community space filled with mandarin trees - a space that belongs to the city I suppose and they will eventually build a road.  This no-man's land currently is filled with trees, but just north of it is dry and high brush.  To our south is a duplex identical to ours - owned by gypsies that built a fence one meter into our land and doubled the size of their backyard by taking the city’s no-man’s land space as well.  

Our house is number seventeen.  The road kinda of peters out in front of our house with no clear marking or dead end sign - just pavers giving way to dirt and weeds.  We have a concrete pad on the community space, a fence dividing our community from the next, and an illegal garden.  Illegal because you’re not supposed to waste water on it, and it’s technically not our land.  

But everyone does this.

Our entrance has two rock-face pillars that support a black iron gate.  The pillars are unfinished, ending flatly with a wire sticking out waiting for a lamp to top it off.  The path to our front door is rock-face as well - fitting neatly together and blending in.  The walkway is lined with tall flowers and leads to the front porch.  The kitchen window looks directly out onto this path, which is convenient for those watching for guests - but inconsequential for my mother-in-law because she’s too short.

The porch goes up one step - again with a rock-face style on its walls and tiles on the floor.  Going left and up three steps you will be at our front door.  Going right up to steps to a landing and then a turn aroudn the corner will bring you to our terrace int eh back.  The porch is lined by a black iron fence and covered by a small, recently built, porch roof.  

The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy - Review

The Penderwicks:  A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy by Jeanne Birdsall

Even the title lost my interest.  I plugged on because it was a National Book Award winner, so it must be good.  The blurb on the back didn’t do a better job at selling the book.  A family on vacation - a book with old fashion charm in a modern setting.  Ho hum.  But, the book was a gift, and its summer - so I was determined to read it.  

The Penderwick family is heading out on a 3 week vacation - renting a cottage attached to a mansion.  The father is a a kind and gentle botanist with four girls.  The mother died soon after the youngest was born.  The girls are well mannered and active, close to each other, creative, and very unique from one another.  The friend the only son of the mansion’s owner, Mrs. Tifton.  Mrs. Tifton is high society and not impressed with  girls, thinking they are a bad influence on her son with all their running around and loud play.  Their adventures are silly and sweet, but not so memorable.  By the end of the book though, I was in love with the family too - their loyalty to each other and to their new friend was dear.

What I liked: I liked the sister’s relationship - it was light and believable.  They were so different, but worked together as a healthy family.  Their selflessness and friendship to Jeffrey was sweet, and I really did care about them by the end, enough to want to read another.

What I didn’t like: It was pretty cheesy most of the book.  I guess that’s what they meant by old fashioned.  The daily activities were just not interesting.  Feeding rabbits?  Shooting arrows? Playing soccer?  Not so special to intrigue me.

What I would have liked to see: Maybe not to base the whole story on a vacation - The background story was interesting, and maybe could have been part of the book, or the series.  I would have liked to “witness” a scene where the family sits and listen’s to one of Jessica’s stories, or what Rosalind was doing during the day, or the father for that matter.  It was so superficial and light until Jeffrey’s problem became central to the ending.  

Quotes: 

  “That’s not good.” Mr. Penderwick looked around at the girls.  “I hope I always listen. I do try.”

  “Daddy don’t be silly!" Jane threw herself at him from one side while Rosaline hugged him from the other.

  “Well,” said Skye.   “There was that time you and Mommy made us be flower girls in Uncle Gordon’s wedding even though I said over and over I didn’t want to.”

  “Skye, that was six years ago,” said Rosalind.

  Skye plowed on.  “And I had to wear a pink frilly Dress and that stupid hat with bows all over it.”

  “She’s still marrying him?” said Skye.

  He nodded.  “It could be worse, I guess.”

  “She could be marrying a serial killer.”

  “Or a werewolf,” said Jane.

Turbo Twenty-Three - Review

I suppose the majority of the people who read these books have read many, if not all, of the previous books.  I guess I keep reading them because they remind me of my Aunt Soni, my friend Bethany, and Jersey.  Plus, they are pretty funny.

The main character, Stephanie, is a bounty hunter based out of Trenton, New Jersey (woo-woo!).  She happened across the job out of desperation in book one through her shady cousin Vinny.  She continues to bumble through this job in book twenty-three.  In between catching FTAs, Stephanie is working with Ranger  - her job is undercover employee at an ice cream factory where there’s been a murder and they are trying to tighten up security.  Stephanie, as usual, bumbles her way right into the middle of everything.

What I like About these books: There is a comforting familiarity with the characters and their habits.  It’s a good lesson in character building for my students too.  Stephanie Plum, her bare kitchen, gun-she-never-loads-or-uses in the cookie jar, her hamster Rex, her stress eating habits, her penchant for comical accidents during apprehensions due to lack of skill and dogged determination.  Her sidekick Lula, a large, loud, and confident former ‘ho.  How Lula always has big ideas, crazy logic, and over confidence that helps her bulldoze any situation with attitude.  I’m sure everyone loves the mysterious Ranger and the tough guy Morelli, her crazy Grandma, and classic Jersey suburban parents.  And so on, the characters - there quirkiness and their mannerisms that are the same in each book - it sets it up like a television action/comedy series.

What I don’t Like: I like to see characters go through cathartic changes.  For the same reason I like the book for its comforting familiarity, I would also like to see character growth.  Like in a television series that strings you along, there is never resolution.  I understand that’s half of the draw - the Ranger/Morelli tension - but 23 books of it is, to say the least, repetitive.  (Although, if she ever does settle down, I’m not sure how the author could keep the story going).

What I’d like to see: Stephanie become better at her job.  Open her own business.  Get married, have kids - keep up the adventure alongside of real life… maybe.  

Quotes: 

“You ran over Eddie Gazarra’s cop car,” my mother said.  “He’s married to your cousin Shirley.  You grew up with Eddie.  What were you thinking?”

“It was an accident!” … “I wasn’t even driving the truck,” I said.  “Lula was driving the truck, and she miscalculated the brakes.”

“It was stolen,” my mother said.  “You stole an ice cream truck!”

“Actually Larry Virbgil stole it.  Lula and I sort of commandeered it.”

“You watch this long enough and you get to wishing he’d take a poop.”  (Lula commenting on their FTA’s mime routine, and the reason he was originally arrested - for pooping as a show of mime art).

“I like your friend.  She gives a good head butt.”

Rex came out of his can and looked at me, whiskers twitching.

“I’m okay,” I said.  “I’m fine.”

Rex thought about it and went back into his can.

Animals have instincts, I thought.  They know when people are okay.  Rex decided I was okay, so I must be okay.

“Ignore me.  I’ll be fine.  Pretend I’m not here.”  (Connie lying on her back in the floor of her office because she threw her back out.)

just to be sure

Teoman had a bad night of sleep last night.  His pain is very stressful for us as parents.  He didn’t want to get up in the morning, but I pushed him because I needed him to eat and take his medicine.  I had to carry Teoman down stairs and he laid on the chair swing letting his Babaanne feed him.  By 10am, Tolga had arranged by phone a call to the doctor, a place to get an ultrasound, and our cousin to pick us up and take us there.

Anne told me Hakan could take us because he had said “If there is anything, even small, call me and I will help.”  Maybe I’m the dramatic one for believing him.  Or maybe, helping was connecting us to a doctor he knows.  It didn’t really matter in the end - our cousin, Gokalp abi, came and brought us to the hospital.  Gokalp abi is about 65 years old and lives in Istanbul.  He vacationed here without his wife and has been rotating between our house and our uncle’s house on the beach.  As at true Turk, he cried when he heard of Teoman’s surgery and he was happy to jump in and help.  

We decided to take off his bandages before we left.  We were supposed to take them off yesterday - and the plan was for him to take a shower and do it then - but he had gotten too tired and asked to do it today.  And now today came and he wasn't feeling up for much of anything.  I had to be a bit hard with him, and I said it’s either me or the doctor.  He was afraid of the pain, and I know that feeling.  I put him in the shower to wash and soften the bandages, and with the first real pull he smiled and said, “That didn’t hurt!”  Actually, I knew it did - at the tips and near the surgery spots - but not as much as he imagined, so he was pretty pleased.  

We went to the semi-private hospital - which means, it gives government insurance discounts or you can use your own private insurance.  Either way - all the hospitals in Kusadasi are depressing.  Especially the ERs - people are coming in afraid and injured.  The doctors and nurses are overworked, the injured are waiting, and the stress and fear levels are tangible.  Private hospitals are a little bit better, but not much - here you see the sunburnt vacationers trickling in - falling down stairs, something dropped on a foot, dehydrated, Turkish tummy, and so on.  

We went up for the doctor, went down for the ultrasound, back up for an emergency request from the doctor, back down and waiting for Teoman to have the urge to pee - and then they did the ultrasound.  Asking a 5 year old boy to hold his pee is torture.  The doctor saw a few things, but she identified everything as normal - and we went back to the pediatrician to confirm it.  Just gas.   According to my friend and nurse whom I text constantly with medical questions, they put a lot of air in the belly during surgery, and it’s a painful recovery.  We were relieved to hear to was nothing serious.

the hard things have passed

Tolga left last night.  Tomris cried quite dramatically.  I don’t mean to ignore or dismiss her … I’m sure she was sad, but it was quite the show.  Tolga made her laugh too.  Teoman was exhausted and slept quickly and he slept well, but he cried too in the morning when he realized Baba was gone.  

For some reason, these days are hard for them both - being here in Kusdasi without Tolga.  I know the feeling.  Even Tuana called for Baba! when she woke up.  I moved them on by looking forward to my birthday - when we'd go to the waterpark, get presents, and so forth.  I took the kids to a play area at the mall.  It’s a mini village - with a hospital, firehouse, kitchen, hair salon, barn, climbing area, and so forth.  They had been wanting to take their Babanne there.  I dropped them off and had 60 minutes to run my errands: pharmacy, home goods store, groceries, and french fries for the kids to get them home.  

A cousin showed up where we were - she had tried to catch us the night before and was apparently surprised that we were all locked up for the night at 11:30pm.  She had come today as well - and we were at the mall playing.  

Tolga told me relatives that he hadn’t spoken to in years were calling him.  Sickness and death is always passed along quickly - and it is expected among family to call one another and with geçmis olsun.  Not that this is always done - but Turks seem to love drama (my Scandinavian disdainful influence here), and I love them for this.  I think we get so afraid of “bothering” someone or considering it gossiping, that we forget that most basic step of saying - hey, I heard, I’m sorry, I’m praying for you - we are with you, on your side - it will pass, things we be better.  

I do appreciate it.  I do need it.  And this time - we’ve got most of this support from relative strangers, and it is beautiful.  

But then others made comments, "I had that surgery, no problem."

You didn't have intussusception - you had appendicitis.

You weren't five.

Stop it because its not making it easier nor him better.  

well-wishers

Teoman woke up through the night, grunting and groaning with pain - like the spasms before the surgery, but not as bad.  It’s hard not to keep questioning myself, to not wonder about the doctors, the medical service, what would have happened in America, and so on.  

The surgeon recommended we find a place for another ultrasound, but because it was a holiday - no place had one available.  (It’s a new holiday - I’m not sure what it’s called, but it’s commemorating the failed coup attempt one year ago today…).  The doctor prescribed medicines over the phone anyhow - antibiotic, another to help the stomach, a suppository to help him poop if he needed and pain medicine.  

Teoman went back and forth from playing to laying down.  Tolga’s Izmir friends came for a visit.  It wasn’t good timing - Teoman wasn’t well, and I changed my assessment of their kid from obnoxious to awful.  He constantly demanded attention and created a lot of stress.  I took him and his mom to the beach with Tomris and Tuana - mostly to get them out of the house.  

When we got back our beach friends stopped by as well.  They had been at the beach almost everyday with us - their youngest the same age as Tuana, their older one was 3 years old, their mom Russian, and their father a doctor.  They brought ice cream which the little hellion child couldn’t eat because of recently discovered egg allergy.  He screamed and cried and they eventually left.  

The mother and I stayed on the quiet street chasing down our 1 1/2 year olds, while the father sat and talked with Tolga and Baba.  Tolga laughs and enjoys all the friends I make in Kusadasi - but as kind and likable as Tolga is, there are very few people he likes so much in return.  He’s a good judge of character and has this amazing ability to be social, accepting and generous while preserving himself if he finds something off about the person.  These new beach friends I made I was excited for Tolga to meet because I was sure he’d like them.  

I don’t know how they do it - how Turks identify one another easily, and even their regions.  I guess I didn’t carefully look or consider Americans because it is such a mixture - Irish to African to Peruvian immigrants to Canadian, all having come to America it isn’t an important part of our culture to identify somebody’s roots upon meeting him or her.  (That said, me-and-everybody-else can spot an American anywhere outside of America).   

When the husband joined us on the balcony, the first thing Tolga said was, “Where are you from?”  It's actually pretty typical question after introductions, but this man I had told Tolga was from the same area as Tolga’s parents - just how close I hadn’t known.  They came from the same people - the same descendants - a very specific strain of Turks, Ahiska, and which they had suspected from looking at each other.  

The men immediately bonded in their excited conversation of history while the women chased the children and the children chased the cats.

released to recover

The doctor had said we could go home today - and after a morning check-up we were released.  It didn’t take us long to get out of there - we were all ready to go home.  

The days had been reaching 100 degree heat and the car was hot.  We stopped for gas, juice and coffees.  Tomris threw up all her juice and crackers in the car.  Tuana slept.  Teoman watched the road.  We stopped at the store for playdough - something to keep them busy and calm at home.  We were home by 2pm.  

Anne and Baba met us at the car - hugging and kissing all the kids and us.  Well wishing us.  I’m sure their house had been too quiet without all of us.  Teoman excitedly told Babaanne about his experience.  They were playing with a slinky on the stairs and Teoman couldn’t bend over to pick it up.  He said smiling, “I’m like you Babanne.  I can’t bend over!”

who can justify pain?

Teoman was still having trouble sleeping.  Part of it was he wouldn’t take the pain medicine - because the pain medicine meant a shot.  He accepted it the first night, but after that he wasn’t interested.

He pooped after an enema and came out of the bathroom smiling again with pride.  He still walked like a heartbreakingly old man with both of us pushing him and holding his belly for him - but Tolga and I both were beginning to relax realizing he was feeling better.  

We had all camped out in the room for the night.  Tuana slept in the stroller, Tolga and Tomris on a long couch in the room, me on the chair.  We walked the halls together too.  Tomris pushing the IV pole, Teoman walking slowly - Tolga and I taking turns holding his belly.  Tuana sometimes taking Teoman’s hand too.  We made it back to the room.

Teoman was clearly doing better today.  Eating more, talking more, playing transformer with his sister in the bed, watching cartoons.  

He still had pain coming and going which stressed Tolga and I out a lot.  When will his pain end?

together is better than alone

Yesterday, after the surgery, Teoman came back at about 6pm.  He was lethargic, not happy or sad or impressed with much.  We were relieved to have him back at our side.  Teoman had two visitors that night - first our neighbors from Kusadasi - gypsies that Tolga doesn’t like so much, but the kids had been playing over there lately and now the neighbors, the mother and 20 year old daughter, were worried about Teoman.  They were in and out briefly, the mother told us her hands were shaking the whole time and she had been praying.  The second visitor was old friends of Tolga’s - from work.  Actually, they weren’t good friends - but they lived in the area and Tolga had contacted them asking about hospitals and such.  The husband and wife team came with an overnight bag packed with random things for us: diapers for Teoman if he needed, extra clothes, pajamas for me, cologne spray (Turkey’s disinfectant of wounds and hands as well as for freshening up).  The husband worked in mining, the wife was a former nurse.  They brought their 3 year old who was obnoxious.  Teoman just watched listlessly, and seeing his lack of enjoyment I brought Tuana to a nearby park, inviting our new friend’s wife and her son.  

In the night, Teoman woke up a few times.  He was supposed to get up and walk - but woke up having to pee and not wanting to move anywhere.  Nurses aren’t around for these things - I’m not sure why - and Tolga had Teoman pee in a bottle.  Neither of us had the heart or will to push him to walk. 

In the morning, the surgeon checked his belly and it was too hard - he pushed us again to get him moving.  Teoman was still having bouts of pain where he'd groan and ask us to hold his belly.  I had slept by his bed all night with my hand on his belly, and it brought him the most comfort when his stomach was tensing.  

The doctor had Teoman walk to the place to get an ultrasound.  When he walked it was with an IV pole that had colorful bear faces over it’s wheel coasters.  He took tiny steps and walked bent over begging one of us to hold his belly.  Begging for it to be enough.  Asking us to carry him back to bed.  But he was brave too, and braver when there were strangers - nurses or doctors or helpers encouraging him.  And when he came back, all that walking helped him pass gas.  A lot of gas.

Tolga went out and bought him a toy - he bought Tomris and Tuana one too.  How could you not celebrate gas and the smile it brought to his face?

Teoman still hadn’t eaten all day nor was he very interested.  In the late afternoon, the doctor came by and brought Teoman back to bed - walking him faster and Teoman even smiled with pride - but it was short lived.  He drank some water, then some juice, and later soup - but none of it did he eat very much as his pain still kept coming and going in bouts.

Tuana had been with us the whole time.  She was doing quite well - entertaining all the nurses and helpers and patients.  She doesn’t particularly like strangers - but she is always watching them and waving.  If they see her, they smile and wave back showering her with endearing comments to which she will answer with blowing a kiss, and sometimes the noise of a kiss.  She was difficult at times too - when Teoman was in pain and wanted me to hold him - Tuana would have none of that.  She will hug her brother or sister when they cry, but I’m hers and she’s not good at sharing.

We’d been calling and checking on Tomris too - she had been happy, but today she cried which led Tolga to immediately decide to drive home and pick her up.  Teoman wanted Tomris too.

In the evening, with all of us together, Teoman perked up some around 6, smiling again.  Sitting up and telling me with pride and a smile that it didn’t hurt to sit.  

We celebrated again with a family hug - one of our favorite things to do.

a day we didn't expect

At 4am we decided to drive to Izmir.  Tolga had arrived around 1am and Teoman continually woke up.  I guess the only reason we waited so long was because the ER wouldn’t do anything, but rather recommend we wait for the pediatrician to come in at 9am.  

I threw some things in a bag, took Tuana because I didn’t want to be stressed worrying about her too, especially if we had to stay in Izmir all day or overnight.  Tomris I figured would be okay - she’s four and easily distracted.  

I sat in the back seat holding Teoman.  In fact, for the past so many hours - one of us had to be constantly holding him.  He would cry out, "Put your hand on my belly!  Pray for God! Pray! Pray!  And it calmed him for me or Tolga to pray - but it made me question my own faith.  Okay, so I’m praying.  Where’s the relief? Where is the comfort?  God is a father who gives good gifts, and we keep on knocking, and he doesn’t give snakes when you ask for things, and so on … so… why is there suffering in this world?  How could this teach my son faith?  Where are the answers?  How could you deny the cry of a five year old boy?

We had to get gas, and we picked up Hakan at his hotel on the way.  Hakan drove, Teoman slept most of the way - the longest stretch for him yet (over an hour drive).  At the hospital, Tolga carried him into the ER.  He didn’t want to move, but relented without much choice or fight.  I changed Tuana in the car, and by the time I was in - the checkup was done as they had done exactly what we figured - recommended waiting for the pediatrician.  

We sat in a garden nearby, and drank tea and coffee.  Teoman laid on our laps, Tuana wondered the dusty garden and we made our way back to the main hospital entrance at 9am.  The doctor sent him for an ultrasound where they could see pretty clearly his intestine was blocked.  They call it - intussusception - a spontaneous and rare condition that happens mostly to children.  The intestine slides into itself like a telescope, locking and blocking digestion.  It’s symptoms are severe pain that comes and goes regularly.  In ninety percent of the cases it can be cleared up with an air enema.  They wanted to wait an hour and check it again - which if I had been more pushy, I would have insisted not to wait any longer as it had been the same for the past 24 hours - and this diagnosis seemed right.  But maybe, just maybe, this is the part where the miracle happens.  

The second ultrasound showed the same thing, and the doctor sent us down to the pediatric surgeon to evaluate.  He had Teoman admitted and directed antibiotics to be started.  Hakan went home.  Around 2pm, the doctor came up and got after the nurses for having done nothing.  I was a little surprised - because usually the nurses do nothing here, it was more surprising that he was annoyed.  He announced he will do the surgery at 3:30.

What?!? Surgery?  I thought they were just observing Teoman.  What about the enema?  The doctor said something about his stomach being too sensitive - I think he meant it was too, late - like we had waited too long.  I asked him about the data that says 90% can be treated with the air enema.  He said not in this case.  Which is typical of doctors here as well.  They over prescribe, are quick to do procedures, and are annoyed by questions.  Patient education interfere’s with the elite know-all image.  But who am I to argue?  As his mother, I want what’s best for him, and I wasn’t going to insist on my inexperienced and superficial Googling of the condition.  

Teoman’s room had a slightly smaller than average size bed with green sheets decorated with cars and trucks.  They brought in a small gown and told us to change him into it.  The gown was blue and paper thin with a paper shower cap.  Tolga had worn the same thing a few months ago, but putting our son in it was devastating.  Tolga tried to make light of it - “Just like me!  Wow!”  Teoman was still in pain on and off - and it never did cease, so I asked Tolga to go with him, as far as he could.

When they rolled out of the room I felt weak kneed.  My brother/sister-in-law called, and I started crying and couldn’t answer the phone.  I couldn’t get enough oxygen.  We should be with him until he sleeps - that is the scariest part.  We should be with him when he wakes, but they don’t let you in that part.  Why not?  I should insist and be a crazy mama.  Did I pray with him before he left?  Does he have Jesus in his heart?  My grandmother prayed with me when I was five, why haven’t I done it yet.  What is this kind of faith I have where I am only trying to secure his future, so to speak?

I didn’t do enough.  I was too careless.  Too confident everything will be fine.  This is not the time to be so cool.  

Tolga came back to the room and was clearly feeling the same as I - he closed the door and broke down crying.  “He’s too little.” 

stomach pains

Teoman woke up with a stomach ache.  I didn't think too much of it - figuring he needed to poop - but he came back upstairs crying from his stomach pain.  That was new.  He'd never cried from stomach pain before and he was showing me his appendix area.  I waited a few hours but his stomach pain just kept coming and going.  It didn’t quite fit appendicitis symptoms, and I was hoping he just needed to poop.  Rather than administer my own solution - I brought him to the doctor.  

Because in Turkey, that’s what we do.

There is a public clinic near our house, but after talking with Tolga he didn’t want me to go there.  We aren’t registered in Kusadasi, so the doctor is always annoyed to treat our children.  The government hospital is large and depressing (but with the best views in Kusadasi), and the private hospitals weren’t necessary better.  Tolga directed me to one we visited before because he had liked it there.

It’s a small hospital on a triangulated corner - quiet with almost every type of doctor available.  The doctor looked at Teoman and decided to do an X-ray, blood and urine test to rule out appendicitis.  

They love doing tests in Turkey.  

Teoman was so brave for the blood test.  I told him to take a deep breath.  We got some snacks and up to this point Teoman was feeling terrible, but around 1 or 2pm, he suddenly perked up - announcing he felt better.  We went home and ate.  The doctor said they’d give the results after 4pm.  I misunderstood that we were supposed to wait there - and she called us back in.  We went in and visited another doctor who said - with Tolga on the phone listening - that he thought it was appendicitis and he was recommending we go to their bigger hospital in Soke (30 minutes away) to be observed and possibly surgery.  

They took blood again, and this time Teoman didn’t want it done.  I hugged him and asked him to be brave again, so he laid down and never cried out once.  

Tolga called his youngest brother Hakan - and he came to the hospital.  Hakan works the water sports at a big hotel and is non-stop busy through the summer - but he’s always willing and ready to drop everything for anything dramatic as this.  The doctors wanted me to go by ambulance or drive to Soke and  admit Teoman there immediately.  Hakan’s wife was on the phone saying she didn’t like the doctor/hospital I was at.  I was texting my friend and our neighborhood who’s husband was a doctor, and they were dissuading me as well  - suggesting I get another opinion.  Our doctor in Ankara said it was quite difficult to diagnose appendicitis and since there was no fever, vomiting or diarrhea - he was suspect of the diagnosis as well.  Hakan brought us to the devlet, government hospital, and we went to the ER for another opinion.  

The woman pushed Teoman’s stomach hard and while I knew Teoman was in pain, he didn’t complain and the woman dismissed the diagnosis.  She told Teoman to jump up and down - which, if he truly had appendicitis, is a dangerous thing to do - but Teoman jumped up and down like a rabbit - proud to show his skills.  

Hakan was relieved.  I was only slightly - it wasn’t an emergency, but there was something wrong.  And nobody, nobody has asked me the when’s the last time he went poop.  Hakan offered to bring me to all the hospitals in Kusadasi.  (Did I mention his penchant for drama?)  But, there weren’t trustworthy hospitals here - they were overworked government hospitals or money making private hospitals.  In fact, what I really needed was a trustworthy pediatrician.  

We went home and Teoman wanted to just lay in bed, with me next to him, holding his belly.  Tolga was on his way to Kusadasi - he had to drive to Istanbul, then take a plane, and he would arrive around midnight.  I stayed with Teoman and he slept, but still woke up every 10 to 20 minutes grunting and groaning in pain.