‘Your sons are killing me’ August 08
It’s become more and more common for these monthly reports to be a) late b) hastily and shabbily put together and c) nothing more than extended photo captions. This month’s report strains the envelope on all three counts.
The final hour of August is ticking by as I type this, and I was this close to blowing off the August monthly report entirely, figuring that it wouldn’t be possible to capture the excitement and upheaval of the last month. Then there was some other part of my brain that was trying to rationalize away the need for posting by going in the complete opposite direction, saying essentially “there’s nothing to report, keep moving, nothing to see here.” It turns out that both parts of my brain just wanted to watch “Mad Men” and drink Thracian rosé unmolested by self-imposed deadlines.
A month ago we bade farewell to the people who meant more to us than any others in Slovenia, Rada and Bojan, who evolved from babysitters into surrogate grandparents. It was very hard to leave them. SMSes continue to fly between Slovenia and Sofia.
One of the first orders of business on arriving here was to arrange a meeting with Baba Sofii, who will be taking care of Alek when we return to work. Though this picture may not show it, you both are already very fond of Sofii. We have great faith in her ability to not kill you, Alek, just as we have somehow managed, tempted though this long August has made us.
Alek graduated from voziček (now koличka) to a trike. Go, Ike, Go!
You both have evinced an astonishing interest in the bits of flotsam that can be found on the playgrounds of Sofia. You have also noticed that there is a playground every 50 meters here, and beg to fing on the fings and fide on the fides of all of them, beating sun or not.
But the sandpit, aka ‘pit of gravél has to be your favorite recreation of all.
Bathing facilities are sufficient to counteract the quantities of filth you manage to collect in the course of the day. ONLY JUST.
Adam has not yet noticed that he is the only child in Bulgaria wearing a helmet. Also: he can’t yet understand the taunting.
Papa spent the first few weeks in the new place using diamond bits to drill holes in the super-hardened, bunker-grade Bulgarian concrete walls in order to hang pictures of duckies. Adam aspires also to drill.
In addition to the trike, Alek moved up to a Big Boy Bed this month, acquired through much hardship in the fastnesses of Bucharest. I guess there will never be a post about that trip to the land of Vlad the Impaler/IKEA, nor about the fact that all the boys have added three countries to their visited list since the last report: Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania. MY STURDY BALKAN BABIES.
Now go to sleep, for god’s sake, both of you.
Hey! There’s nothing wrong with extended photo captions.
Congrats on the successful move. The big boy bed and the tricycle are big steps. Good work, Sir Alek.
I would also remind you that September only has 30 days, so start working on your draft.
Comment by Erik R. — Monday 1 September 08 @ 00.58 MDT+2.00
What kind of crazy land is this Bulgaria which has both 1) IKEA and B) cassette tapes -or at least their remains. Yet no bike helmets. You’d think IKEA would sell them.
P.S. Quit agonizing over your self imposed deadlines. We don’t even notice that posts should come on a certain date. We just think, gosh, it’s been a while. Where are they? I hope everything is ok! And I sure would like to see some Bulgarian sunrises. But no pressure!
Comment by gaoo — Monday 1 September 08 @ 04.14 MDT+2.00
And look at all the strachni levs! Some things don’t change, thank God. Although the boys are ENORMOUS.
Comment by gaoo — Monday 1 September 08 @ 04.19 MDT+2.00
Many, many kisses form Italy to You – our “balkan” friends!!!
Comment by Jessie — Monday 1 September 08 @ 15.48 MDT+2.00
My Proper Auntie Hindbrain sees one fact rising above all other facts in this lovely photo-essay, and it is:
So, a(nother) stuffed lion wouldn’t go amiss come Christmas-time? You have the beginnings of a pride there.
RAWWWWR! I’m the scary LI-on!
Comment by Elsa — Monday 1 September 08 @ 19.47 MDT+2.00
Were you drilling with a cow, too? Or did Alek somehow associate orange plastic cow with pictures of duckies that happened as a result of a drill? The minds of babes will remain a mystery. The Balkan Boys are looking gorgeous. Congratulations on making it through Ikea with all four of you. I am both impressed and jealous, as I was not blessed with the ‘patience for Swedish mass design’ gene.
Comment by KP — Monday 1 September 08 @ 21.04 MDT+2.00
What Erik said. All of it.
Comment by jane — Tuesday 2 September 08 @ 21.31 MDT+2.00
The boys certainly don’t look the worse for the wear. I’m figuring since there are no pics of the parents, the same may not be true for them. Liters of yoghurt should cure that..plus longer visits by Bab Sofii.
I don’t understand the visit to Ikea. Isn’t most of Ikea’s stuff made in Bulgaria/Roumania/Eastofslovenia? Can’t you just step out the door of your (what looks like a beautiful) apartment and find piles of Drecken, BojToj, VritNos on the corners, unpackaged? Or is this just my imagination run rampant as to life in Bulgaria, fueled by the mention of “flaming dumpsters” in the comments of your last post?
Well, the sun is shining, your sons are shimmering, and your ongoing childlogue is, as ever, stimulating.
Comment by DarkoV — Tuesday 2 September 08 @ 22.07 MDT+2.00
uhmmm,
That should be “Baba”, not the mis-spelled “Bab”, as in “Bob” or “Babe”, in that second sentence. Not that I’m inferring that Baba Sofii in not a babe; she may well be as the average age of Bulgarian women is, like, 156, and she seems to be just a touch over 80.
Comment by DarkoV — Tuesday 2 September 08 @ 22.10 MDT+2.00
What Jane said. All of it.
Comment by Erik R. — Wednesday 3 September 08 @ 01.09 MDT+2.00