zymzym

Bruises and Bruce Willis

2011-10-08T15:50:00.000+02:00

Those of you who know me, ever wonder why I have so many bruises _all_ the time?

Its because the three guys at home _always_ leave ALL the drawers and closet doors open ALL THE TIME!

I swear it's like the kitchen scene from The Sixth Sense at home, daily. I have photos to prove.

Zeynep sent this.

Testing new mobile blogging address.

2011-10-05T02:12:00.001+02:00

It works, non?

Testing photo upload

2011-04-15T14:41:00.000+02:00

Let's see if this works.

Mobile Blogging?

2011-04-15T01:06:00.001+02:00

Probably a better way to purge all this out than twitter, huh? Let's give it a try!

Amused

2011-04-14T20:39:00.004+02:00

It is that exact moment in time when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and you are neither bewildered nor horrified the least of all satisfied but mainly mostly actually truly amused is the time when you have wholeheartedly welcomed getting old(er).

36 here.

2010-10-13T01:43:00.002+02:00

In the darkness of the night another age approaches. Last year was supposed to be the year when I felt the pangs of getting old, I guess. The ruling feeling of my 35^th year was a general sensation of everything being simply overwhelming. And this coming from a woman who doesn’t work, doesn’t have stress, doesn’t really have deep moving revelations or anything. Yet it seemed to go by so fast. Call me shallow.

I watch these sitcoms and dramas on TV and the messages I get from each episode depends on what kind of a mood I am in that particular day, more often that particular hour. An overwhelmingly happy year was my 35^th. Even in episodes where catalytic stuff happened, I thanked god or whatever for everything I had, for my children, for my life and felt reassured that I was doing well, doing my best at least and that I was at peace with myself. The uneasiness the feeling of not belonging the insecurities the craving for something I have not gotten my finger on seemed to diminish every passing day though not completely disappearing I am, once again, or seem, at peace with them.

So happy 36 to me. Two decades ago, when I was in a far far country, celebrating my 16^th, in a strange unknown yet exciting tradition I felt it was just the beginning of “something.” If I were to go back and grant myself something, a wish, I would have wished that I carry that same excitement till I was 96. Still going strong at 36, though in a less festive mood, by large because my beloved isn’t here with me to celebrate, but we’ll make up for that when he gets back in a few days.

So for next year, I promise myself to go back to singing (even though I might suck at it). And play more. Mostly with my children, and a bit with life.

Tunca Tunca Tunca

2010-10-05T00:29:00.003+02:00

I haven't forgotten about my younger son's birthday. Tunca turned 7 this summer. The below post was written sometime late June, not "on" his birthday, and seems as though I failed to post it somehow. I've added some things to the end.. So here it goes...

I know my brother will get on my case about writing yet another sappy post but hey, it's my blog and I can make it as sappy as I want (though I've realized that it's quite hard to type sappy. Sappy. Hmm. I guess you get used to it).

Anyways.

Happy birthday babe!

I am so proud of the way you are growing up to be such an incredible man. Pushing and shoving your way though all the difficulties you face, the way you crack us up with your sense of humor, how different your mind works from all of us (you are probably the _then_ only 4 year old who dreamed of money raining down on him when his mother told him to think happy thoughts) wipe your tears and hold your cries and move on, urge yourself and strive so hard... for everything.

I love it that you are so cuddly, that you always hold my hand whether we're crossing a street or not, that you do so many things not because I tell you so, but because you talk it out, to yourself, make a deal, with yourself, and do it, because you yourself decide that it's the right thing to do. You have wisdom, though I would appreciate if you stopped taking that left sock off your foot and leaving it places. No idea where that habit came from, but you've been doing that since you were 8 months old, and it's getting really hard to try and match socks now and I don't want you to go to school with mismatched socks.

I want to talk to those mean boys who threaten you, scare those who bully you, and make fun of those who ridicule you, yet you are so brave, and you always tell me that you will handle things yourself, even if that means being pushed around or threatened or ridiculed. Thank you for not getting me involved.

I love the way you love animals, and wonder how on earth you became so disgusted with snails. I love the way you talk to ants, and give them names, and pretend to run into the same ones all over the world.

I love you, I love the way you love your family, and I will always be proud of you, I promise.

The one you love.

2010-09-12T15:22:00.004+02:00

"The mind has some many pictures, why can't I sleep with my eyes open?" asks Rufus Wainwright in the song, The One You Love. Since the bulk of my literary adventures have been mostly limited to murder mysteries for the past decade or so, song lyrics often screw with my head, in a good way, most of the times.

So what we have been up to?

A month down South, lots of wine, loads of sunshine, weekend sailing, family and friends. Lovely. Exhausting, but absolutely wonderful.

The one I love, the ones I love, cannot leave you down any avenue, promise not to, but could use a few days of my own!

Salty sand

2010-08-11T23:16:00.004+02:00

Sea shells and rocks and pebbles and sandy toes, the treasures of my kids' days during vacation. Lots of sunshine, as their hair turns all the more blonde, I can literally see them grow up. Slightly unnerving yet completely tranquil within the chaos of never ending sunscreen, food, wet bathing suits, the picking and hanging of towels always a bit damp early in the morning.

Tunca says he can see the salt water in the sand. He probably means he can taste it.

And, happy anniversary babe!

Happy Birthday to my Baby!

2010-06-09T01:13:00.003+02:00

So hard to believe it's been a decade since I first laid my eyes on you. You are growing up to be such a good guy, such a sweet guy that as I type this, I have tears in my eyes. I promised you, that first night we lay awake next to a stranger in a hospital room with an incredible view of the Hudson that I only saw after a whole day, that I would give you everything, anything, that would make sure you grew up to be a wonderful, happy boy. And you made me proud. With your charm, understanding, slightly sappy yet overwhelmingly sweet sentimentality, courage, wits, insight and your big big heart, you make me proud, you always have, you always will. I love you, so much, so much so much that I, once again, have tears in my eyes. Happy birthday babe.

Alternate versions of reality

2010-05-20T01:10:00.002+02:00

Is it possible to run out of things to say? To write about?

The notes I mentioned in a previous post seem to be decreasing in amount and frequency. Or I'm losing them. I distinctly remember writing something about what to do with all the hand crafts the kids make, and it was all witty and cute and funny at the same time (or so it seemed). It's either somewhere hidden in the deep dusty yucky crevices of my purse or I am totally losing my mind and remembering alternate versions of reality:

Got the ATM card activated
Got my notes in order
Wrote contracts
Wiped off gunky mascara
Cleaned my desk
Measured Tunca's height
Measured the wall where I'm supposed to buy a bookcase kinda thing.
Charged my phone
Found and brought pregnancy and baby name books for my cute friend Asyak

Reality:
Still have no cash
Questionable existence of notes
Got two blank pages open in Word and Pages, it's a start
Gunky mascara all over my face, not just my eyes
Sticky desk with piles and piles of paperwork
Can make that up
Could go by without a bookcase kinda thing for 8 months, probably don't really need it
Found the charger
Who borrowed my Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy book? Come out and identify yourself. And for punishment, cross to the European side and hand deliver the books dammit.

Happy Mama!

2010-05-09T01:41:00.003+02:00

There is a pretty good chance that this might sound cheesy and thanksgiving-ish, but I am thankful that both my sons are home with me, healthy, happy, independent, smart, cute and totally completely definitely make me proud: Arda with his sappy sentimentalism, forgetfulness, surprising wit and sheer charm, Tunca with his creativity, sense of humor, mind boggling brain, and a deep love for sleep. You guys helped me belong and are the best gifts ever.

Happy mother's day to me!

Muse oh Muse

2010-04-30T01:28:00.002+02:00

There are days when I cannot stop thinking about, arranging and rearranging words in my head, something seems to have inspired me, yet when all the hustle and bustle ends and I finally sit down to write them down (somewhere, this blog, a piece of paper, one of the many journals I have begun and never managed to follow through) and that inspiration morphs into a checklist, a to-do list, an email, or completely disappears, fleeting to the depths of my mind, often to surface at a totally irrelevant and inappropriate place and makes me look totally dumb for pulling over somewhere and writing on a piece of credit card receipt.

Here are a couple that I fished out of my purse:

(can't read the handwriting here, probably written while driving?)
Seems like two ends of a sectional that never quite fit together, always a bit crooked, needy of pushing around...

Those crazy pink flowers have bloomed in the most ridiculously awkward curve, threatening to make me giggle and lose control somehow (ok, this was written in traffic, I remember this from last week)

Lull

2010-04-28T01:39:00.003+02:00

My dad checks up on this blog from time to time. A faithful follower. Like he's always been.

Yesterday, I was in the middle of trying to explain to my almost 10 year-old son how sometimes life is so not fair, and there are times when he could believe that he was %100 right and noone would understand him, or care about his feelings of beliefs. Now he's probably not old enough to understand that whatever stand he makes on even the silliest issue has some sort of impact and more often serious consequences that follow. Maybe this event was the first he came across, it's the first one that I can think of, or at least know of.

Anyways... Thanks, dad, for telling me to always stand up for what I believe. Even though that got me in lots of trouble more than I can remember, I was able to tell my son that yes, he would probably get in trouble, but if he truly believed whatever he did was not wrong, he should stand up for himself. And a special congrats to my mom who taught me to be polite and practical. And she quits smoking too! My hero!

As for the lull in posts... Been busy. Organizing a picnic that's turning into a logistical nightmare. When I say picnic, I mean PICNIC in caps, an event for 5,000+ people and a concert to follow. Fun but exhausting. Also had surgery, no big deal, still recovering happily.

Also, found out that backstabbing and gossip never ceases to exist no matter who you are, what age you are, and whatever status you think you belong to... So glad I have some true friends to stop me from kicking some serious butt. And a cute hubby who volunteers to do that for me because he's thoughtful like that.

St. Baldricks is coming up!

2010-02-17T03:13:00.001+02:00

One of my favorite charities, always honors Nathan... St. Baldricks.org

Austria 2010

2010-02-16T01:56:00.005+02:00

Another year of excellent skiing, Oberlaa's sweets, Vienna's snot freezing cold, and Bahar and Sima's warm home... No wonder this is the vacation we look forward to the most...

We made it out before the storm hit... Had to get up at 4:30am to make the 7am flight. We were exhausted before we even got there, but totally worth it, because even with a technical problem that made us taxi back to the gate, we made it to Vienna by noon. Almost a whole day ahead of us!

Here are the photos, as promised:

Drum Roll.

2010-01-21T21:39:00.003+02:00

For those of you who called and emailed and commented on my latest post, thank you.

I finally crashed Tuesday night and it actually felt better. Fell asleep in front of the TV and slept thru CSI and all until 5AM.

On a lighter note, we're all packed and ready to leave for Austria on Saturday. This trip is somewhat traditional in the way we visit Vienna and our great friends, Bahar, Bernd and Sima, then go skiing for five days, then drive back to Vienna for some more time with the Rothensteiner family for good food, wine, museums and lots of laughs. I am jut hoping that I won't freak out when I'm there so I can get some decent sleep and get a good taste of the slopes. The boys are very very excited and we're hoping that we'll miss the snow storm approaching Istanbul on Saturday. Will post fun stuff, promise...

Fear

2010-01-19T18:45:00.003+02:00

As I lay awake looking yet again at another hour passed without the sweet lull of sleep I feel the blisters forming on my hands, mostly my knuckles, and another wave of utter fear overwhelms me and my heart starts beating maniacally to catch up to that whooshy-fally feeling (for the lack of words, like when your heart jumps to your mouth on that first fall from the top of the bazillion feet tall roller coaster) I curse at the shallow jerks who blame an earthquake on anything but the catastrophic movement of some plates and their tectonic shifts and moves and I get up to check on my sons and try not to look at the clock because I know there will be more of this torture to come.

Title that escapes me goes here.

2009-12-21T01:33:00.004+02:00

An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me as I walked across the street last week, exhausted and pissed and angry yet all that was in my mind was how this year had passed, so quickly, so filled with joy, heartbreak, luck, health and so on and on and on... Had to keep reminding myself to be thankful.

'tis the season, I guess.

Another year, another year... has passed. Another year.

the 26 steps

2009-12-17T20:19:00.003+02:00

step 1: figure out why my cell rings, but doesn't work. properly. like i cant receive a call. or dial out. but it keeps ringing. and i can't turn it off.
step 2: suspect the sim card.
step 2.5: take out sim card.
step 2.75: break the phone completely while reinserting the damn card.
step 3: rule out sim card problem.
step 4: dig the extra phone from who knows where (burak found it).
step 5: be thankful for accidentally setting the shortcut button to turn bluetooth on.
step 6: turn bluetooth on. the computer as well. it has to sync somehow.
step 7: isync works. all is saved. or synced. just to show burak how tech savvy i am, i tell him that i can actually go back to any given day on my computer thru my time machine. not a real time machine. though i suspect that's coming soon, too.
step 8: burak tells me i havent backed up my computer for.... ta daaa.. three whole weeks. not too shabbyi huh?
step 9: attempt backing up. cannot locate the external hard drives (ehd from now on, i know they must have a better name than that but i cannot remember for the life of me). all 3 of them. they were on my desk. yes, i'm sure.
step 10: locate the external hard drives. in the bookcase. cuz they look like books you know.
step 11: try very very hard to remember which ehd i used for backing up.
step 12: locate the cables.
step 13: not those cables.
step 14: those are the right ones but they don't work.
step 15: locate the power cable. yes! the right one on my first attempt.
step 16: bet on the black ehd. connect. power up. and burak says "that's my ehd."
thanks.
step 17: disconnect after getting distracted looking thru burak's stuff.
step 18: bet on the other black ehd.
step 19: wrong cables.
step 20: those are broken as well.
step 21: consider trashing the broken cables. then think that maybe they're not broken and they're actually wrong cables.
step 22: find the right cables. the power cord is the same, thank god. i am exhausted.
step 23: wrong one again. disconnect after get distracted looking thru songs and stuff backed up from 2008.
step 24: the silver one. that has to be it. or i am so screwed.
step 25: freaking wrong cables. i am so not kidding. the first cable that i used for the black ehd fits, of course.
step 26: connect. back up.

the extra phone rings. and i have no idea who's calling.

Darkness of the night (hey that's a song!)

2009-11-14T02:16:00.004+02:00

Some nights seem darker than others for some reason. There must be a scientific explanation somewhere that has to do with atmospheric stuff (see, all those freaky cold nights taking astronomy 101 at Mount Holyoke would come in handy if only I could remember a word or two of it) but my interpretation lies somewhere between my own physiological condition at that specific moment and my moodiness.

The darker the night, the better my eyes see. A gloomy sky with no moon (or the new moon? I really should look this stuff up) provides ample opportunities for cat watching, boat surveillance and just marvelous stargazing. The twilight-ish glow from the moon makes everything look hazy thanks to the multitude of stitches in my left eye, and the more the humidity, the moister my eyes are without any requirements of eye drops in good days and quinine related poison/medicine in bad days.

There were days when I wondered whether I would miss the sounds of the boats in the fog (I can hear them loud and clear from this new house) or the familiarity of the street I grew up in. I do, sometimes. But I can see shooting stars here. And that is exactly what I needed to see a few minutes ago. So I could make a wish.

Moving onto the next issue: gotta get lights for the house cuz if I were to trip up on one more thing (and we have “things” on the floors of our new place – toys, crayons, books, very dangerous cars, clothes, I am looking around right now and see scissors for gods sake! just like we did in our last place, and the one before that, because I hate picking after myself, or the children, or anyone else for that matter, and the children seem not have fallen far from the tree in terms of neatness) I know I will break something – most of the “things” don’t matter that much, but a hip replacement at the age of 35 is unacceptable). At least until I get some plastic surgery done. Yeah. There.

And I cannot believe I just wrote an 8-line sentence. Eat your heart out Orhan Pamuk here I come.

Mills and shots

2009-10-04T16:45:00.003+02:00

When I was very young, my maternal grandfather put me in charge of grinding coffee beans. It was fun, kept me busy for a few minutes and made me feel useful while providing freshly ground beans for my grandmother to make Turkish coffee. When finished, they would allow me to experiment with the remaining wet ground(ed?) gunk in the bottom of the little cup, and often I poured cold water over it, added some sugar and just drank it. Then bounced off the walls for the next few hours.
Those three of you who seem to somehow follow me (hi, dad!) might think I'm going to into this tirade about how the "new" electric modern state of the art fancypants mills that grind a whole pound of coffee with the touch of a button are far worse than the original ones etc etc but no. I will not. I have no idea why I wanted to write about the coffee mill and me bouncing off the walls high on caffeine at the age of 5 but I really could use a shot of something right now and either one of the boys could use some "help mom and keep yourself busy" chore right now.

After the rain

2009-09-22T02:59:00.002+02:00

The boxes are opened, the clutter is somewhat organized, and I as type, stuck in the realm of insomnia once again, again and again, sleepless as usual though my eyes are hurting from the exertion, I feel nauseous yet calm. Composed. Tranquil.

Tunca starts 1st grade on Thursday. He seems at ease. We'll see how that goes. My baby, riding the school service bus, every day. That came a bit quicker than I imagined, I guess.

Almost whole month...

2009-09-02T22:19:00.004+02:00

Has passed since I last posted something, and that was a repost.

I should write about Arda's camp, Tunca's swimming lessons and how we decided to finally move and still wonder why we made that decision. We really like our place. We just never really "moved in." After 8 years in Istanbul, a friend recently told us our house looks like we just moved in.

I must have written about this place. It's on the same street where I grew up. It's a block from the Marmara sea, so close that we often hear the horns (what are they called anyways?) from ships on foggy nights, the smell of iodine is overwhelming after the rain for some reason and we have seagulls hanging out in our garden plus some weird flock of green parrots in addition to a zillion crows. Tunca was born here. Arda remembers this house as his house, not the one overlooking Bryant Park, not the one on York Avenue on the Upper East Side, but this one. They keep asking us whether we will take the doors with us (no), the bathroom fixtures (no), the curtains (maybe some), the sad attempt of Bilge’s and mine on stenciling on Arda's one wall.

So next week, we move. More on that later.

For you to muse upon, here's how gorgeous Seytan Deresi (The Devil's Creek) cove was.. It is still as peaceful, incredible, calming and mesmerizing as it was even though more than a decade has passed since we were there last...
And here's how the boys spent the last five weeks:
And more on that, later as well because I have to start doing some major cleaning - throw away everything we haven't used in the past year. Well maybe two. Except some sentimental stuff. Yeah.

Reposts. Because I am lazy like that

2009-07-12T20:22:00.001+02:00

Some rambling from the past month, edited & posted simply because I don't have anything else to write since Arda is away at camp and Tunca's summer school plans went down the drain and I desperately need a few hours to myself just to get my head together and write about a few things in my mind starting with the utter devastation the Morgan family has faced this past week with the passing of Ryan and his mom, Missy the same week, from neuroblastoma and breast cancer.

--

You know how you always want to do the best for your kids and keep wondering every freaking step of the way whether you are doing the right thing or saying the right thing or even thinking straight? I am so tired of second guessing myself that I am, at 2Am in the morning, unable to sleep (surprise surprise) thinking over and over about stuff. Yeah, for lack of a more sophisticated word that covers this manic schedule and over thinking and all, and for all I care, it's "stuff."

The whole "I have it all together" act is wearing me down.

Please someone smack me in the face and tell me to pull it together or get over whatever this slum is so I can just go to sleep.

9

2009-06-17T00:12:00.003+02:00

Today was Nathan's 9th birthday. I wanted to do something special for his family.. maybe make & sail a few paper-boats off in the sea towards the Prince Islands. Or something. Lingered over what would be appropriate, meaningful, anything.

I can only write that I thought of their family today, as I do often. I have "known" Nathan's family since Susan & I were pregnant back in late 1999. I know Nathan's birth, and heard his soft voice a few times over youtube, and watched him grow and become a sweet, loving, wise brother, son and friend. A wonderful, wonderful boy. I screamed with joy with every clear scan and shed tears with many set backs... His presence in so many lives, many of whom he never even met, still overwhelm us all, and always, always remembering him is the only thing I can do now.

So Nathan... Happy birthday - may you have a glorious one in the gardens of eden. We love you, and will always, always remember you.

Utter confusion

2009-05-26T14:33:00.002+02:00

I wake up at 6AM every week day morning utterly confused about why my cell phone is ringing. For the past 4 years, every morning as I wake up, I look at my cell phone and think to myself "why is this going off so early?"

I thought I would get used to it.

On the other hand, I spend each and every night struggling to fall asleep, drifting between being completely awake and aware of not falling asleep and restless sleeping during which I constantly dream of not falling or being asleep. I can literally count the number of nights when I fell asleep quickly, without going through this torture.

Such is luck. No such luck.

2009-05-22T12:46:00.005+02:00

Yesterday, I successfully managed to crash my car into the garage wall (again) thanks to my wonderful neighbor who parked his car like 3 feet from the interior wall, dropped Tunca off at school, drove to Arda's school for a meeting where we went through 8 grades worth school supplies in only 4 hours, drove home, parked the car because my wonderful neighbor had left and I just did not want to go through the same nightmare again in one day, called a cab, picked Tunca up from school, went to a swim lesson, took him shopping to bu a freaking YoYo and a Harry Potter movie, came home, checked Arda's homework (partly done, good enough for me) and cooked. The last part the most traumatic.

All this sounds like the complaints of a useless feeble woman. I do feel useless at times. Right now, I feel disappointed, worried, confused, sad, fed up, tired, physically sick and unable tell my 6 year old son that his name was not on the list. The list. The lottery list. The school that Arda attends has so many applicants that they have a lottery among applicants after an interview. And the lottery was today. I know that my Tunca will thrive wherever he goes. He has such a brilliant shine, such incredible qualities that he will be happy in any school. As a parent, I of course want both my children to attend the school I know and trust. The school he will be attending is an excellent one as well. A small private school where he will have a great education, friends and all. He deserves the best and he will make the most of it. I know he will.

Such is life. And luck. I love you babe.

Domesticide Pesticide

2009-05-08T15:02:00.002+02:00

The comfort in every day domestic duties lull me. Not to sleep. Mostly. I do need a nap often but that is more related to the fact that I love sleeping, anytime, but mostly during the day. I hate making the beds. Filling the dishwasher. Sorting the colors and whites. Washing stuff. Emptying the dishwasher. Emptying the washing machine. Hanging stuff up to dry. And on and on and on... Yet all this stuff, no matter how miserable I feel during the actual action, make me feel somewhat fulfilled. That's how exciting life is. My life.

On a side note, I am damn lucky to have some help to do all this stuff and I only have to do them when they're off. One of the best presents I got ever was my husband giving the news that he had found a cleaning lady back when we were living in NYC. That turned out to be disastrous experience that we only realized when we were moving. That is a whole new post.

signed: vain and lazy.

The never-ending program.

2009-04-26T18:01:00.002+02:00

I am constantly haunted by my children's demands for programs on the weekends. And on holidays. And in the afternoons. Every day. Day after day.

To an extent, I am happy to oblige - many of our "outings" as a family end up being wonderful days and we all feel fulfilled, happy to have spent the day together, with family and sometimes friends.

The programs mostly include a meal outside, meeting friends, inviting friends, walks, bike rides, kite sessions, museums and parks and such. And according to the weather, and the fullness of the weekend schedule, they are more or less the same.

Add, however, the finicky basketball schedule of Arda's, a birthday party, someone (mostly myself) ill or miserable (with sun allergies), the terrible awful horrible no good senseless traffic for no good reason but the sun shining, the result is chaos and me screaming off the top of my lungs to just let me stay home. And sleep. Or watch TV. Preferably with a soccer game on.

After speaking to the boys about the limits of programs and my limits of sanity yesterday (ok, there was yelling involved, I admit) they were quietly playing with their toys and drawing today. Never even once asked for a program. My husband must have felt guilty that after basketball practice, he took them grocery shopping and bought the most unneeded yet essential items ever: almonds, ice cream cones, chocolate, a watermelon, 3 green apples and cocoa puffs.

We are determined to go to the beach or the forest next weekend close to the city. It's a 3 day weekend, May 1st is finally a legal holiday!

It's sad, I would have loved to take my children along to the protests, show them that the righteousness and purity of labor is something to celebrate, not frown upon or worse, look down on. No way. Never in İstanbul.

Hateful.

2009-04-15T23:31:00.003+02:00

I don't know what to write. This is just a vent.

I am sick and tired of putting on 50+ sunscreen every day.. day after day after day.

I am sick and tired of having to wear long sleeved and/or UV filtered clothing.

I am sick and tired of the blistered hands and neck and legs and feet and toes and ears - yea! ears!!

I am sick and tired of not being able to play with my kids in the summer. Of hiding under umbrellas and shadows.

None of this would have mattered if I could avoid having the dreadful blisters. I hate polymorphic light eruption with a passion. I hate sun allergies.

On a lighter note: check out Arda & Tunca golfing:

A songwriter to be?

2009-04-05T14:13:00.005+02:00

Tunca's latest songwriting adventure yielded to this:

the name of the song is some things changed
some things changed
everything changed
i changed
my brother changed, too
don't forget
the world changed
our family changed
therefore
the whole world changed.

Şarkının adı Bir Şeyler değişti
bir şeyler değişti
her şey değişti
ben değiştim
abim de değişti
unutmayın ki
dünya değişti
ailemiz değişti
ki
bütün dünya değişti

I don't even want to think about what prompted him to write these. I am hoping that the whole "change" theme was used in a positive way, he insists that "this just popped into his mind" and he "totally made it up."
I don't have a scanner so I just took a photo of it so it's all upside down and left to right but it'll give those of you who know Turkish an idea...

His spelling is great for a 5.5 year old, I think. But I'm biased that way because I also think that he's super cool.

ps.: I backed up. I also have a .mac account which was supposed to sync with my computer but for some reason did not before the horrible crash.

The warning

2009-04-02T18:09:00.003+02:00

keeps flashing on my screen - "it's been 10 days since your last time machine back-up." All I have to do is swivel in my swiveling chair take half a step toward the bookcase and pick up the silver (not black) external hard disk and hit the "yeah baby" button. Or the OK button, I can't remember which.

Yet I stay still.

I apologize for the interruption...

2009-03-13T02:28:00.003+02:00

But I recently lost my hard disc. Really. It just stopped working all of a sudden. When I sent it to get it fixed, the techies said "we'll rescue your data" and I believed them.

I confess.

My last back-up, was, unfortunately, in November. Early November. I thought I had backed up in January. I hadn't. Or maybe I had, and I can't find it now among the numerous external hard discs that pollute my library.

Anyways.. The techies rescued thumbnails of my iPhoto library and my whole iTunes library. Better than nothing, huh?

I feel really shitty about not backing up. Really. I hate it that I lost all that I had written, all that I had worked on, and all that I emailed and received. Almost all of my PTA stuff is lost (I have hard copies of most of the important documents, though, so that's good).

Oh, I went and got my computer from the techies Tuesday afternoon. The hard disc went kaput again Tuesday night. What part of "my hard disc is dead, it says hardware malfunction on Disc Warrior" did they not understand, I wonder?

So.

It's a fresh start. I promise to make sure Time Machine is running and keep my folders organized.

Darn it I missed it.

2009-02-23T01:28:00.002+02:00

The previous post about our W40th apartment thru the eyes of Google Earth's Street View was my 100th post, apparently. Joy to the world. Here's a favorite poem from the 90s when everything seemed dreary and sad in the never ending winter nights of Massachusetts, and the credit goes to my brother Sinan, for introducing me to Vikram Seth and making me more depressed than ever before:

All You who Sleep Tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.

Vikram Seth

Nostalgia.

2009-02-20T00:53:00.002+02:00

The Engineer's Building, where we lived for over five years, is one of greatest memories I have of NYC. I often look at it on Google maps and am amazed by how the area has changed over the past decade. Here's a glimpse:

View Larger Map

Take This Waltz

2009-02-01T23:43:00.012+02:00

The trip we took to Austria for winter break seems to have turned into somewhat of a tradition. Two days in Vienna, five days in Hochkar, two more days in Vienna. Take that psychedelic waltz, Leonard.

Here's a day-by-day tell-all (oh I love hyphens, I really really do):

Day 1: wake up at 4:30AM, out of the house by 5Am to make the 7AM flight to Vienna. Boys slept in their sweatpants and shirts so we just woke them up an loaded them into the already loaded car. (Note: realize, at 2AM, that I forgot to pack winter boots for the kids and scramble to make space for them, fail, get an extra bag just to pack those). Hence the grumpy attitude. Breezy flight where the kids refuse to eat anything and I am already on vacation mode and don't really care they can live on crackers for 10 days for all I care.

Arrive in Vienna, rent two cars (because we have to travel like a herd and there are 7 of us total), drive to Rothensteiner Appartements, meet the gorgeous, wonderful, incredible, charming and sweet Bahar and Sima, take a walk to a nearby hot dog stand where everyone but myself has lunch. I have to walk around and look for a deli where I can get a plain cheese sandwich because I am picky like that.

After placing our stuff in our usual room and resting for a few minutes, walk to Museum Quarter and Zoom Kindermuseum for the MegaGreek Exhibition. I made a reservation ahead of time for all of us and the kids loved, loved it!

With the aide of a perfectly outlined map and Bahar's directions, walk to a classical Viennese restaurant whose name I could not read or pronounce so I cannot blog about it here, where the kids played with wooden blocks, scales (yep, real scales) and had more hot dogs and schnitzel and beef broth soup (rinde zuppe. yea!) I had a salad and soup. Plus more cheesy stuff. Plus Apfelstrudel (another word added to my dictionary this year, next to Melange ohne schlagobert).
Day 2: After breakfast, drive to a park on the frozen Danube and ooh and aah at the views from that big tower. Make your best impression of the Karate Kid on logs (The photos will speak for themselves).

My stylish hat.

The Danube is too far... We'll just play in the park.

Drive to a nearby famous restaurant, totally booked, skip to Schonbrunn zoo for lunch, which is jam packed because Austrians like to go out when it's sunny I guess. Or they made a pact to drive us crazy for some reason. Bernt makes us a delicious dinnner at the hotel and we drink a bit too much wine. Just a bit. Meanwhile, Bahar and Sima drive to their mountain house to pick up Sima's skiing gear and clothes, about 150 kms away, but drive back without picking them up because the road up to the house is icy. I just love their enthusiasm and love for adventure (and driving).

Where's my hat?

Tunca & Sima

The traditional "take a photo on a rhino" moment where I try and make sure noone falls off.

Day 3: Leave Vienna for Hochkar around 9AM. Optimum driving conditions, less than 2 hours. Arrive at Sporthaus Hochkar where the check in area is actually a bar, move our luggage to the rooms and have lunch. To our delight, the three star hotel is extremely clean, comfortable and cozy and like 20 meters to the lifts. I don't know, I didn't really measure, but let me say that one day I skied down from that blue-red-mixed-where the heck am I slope, I arrived right next to the lifts with the bubble thing and without even stopping I could ski to the entrance of the hotel. So that close.

Living room where the kids played...

The view from the living room...
The view from the room...

Sporthaus

Rent skis, poles, helmets and all from the ski shop downstairs where I successfully fall from a stupid fold-out chair before even attempting to ski and break my butt or something because I still for the love of god cannot sit on it properly.

Arrive at the ski school, JoSchi where we meet Arda and Ali's instructor Katrina (we call her Katrin) from last year and "Luki" Lukas, and arrange for lessons for the rest of the week. Tunca gets to start his lessons the next day, so I attempt to teach him a bit and to my surprise he is quite eager and much stronger than the year before.

Ski for about 3 hours, get to the room exhausted, dinner and bedtime by 9pm.

Day 4, 5, 6: Kids ski in the morning with instructors Katrin and Tamas, Sinan and Zeynep ski with various instructors, I ski a bit by myself yet stay at the base area more often translate for Tamas and Tunca and hitch a free ride with whoever's going up to ski an easy slope. Let's just say I became very very good friends with people at the JoSchi Bar and they make great lattes. Burak stays at the hotel with a good wi-fi connection and makes quick runs to bring forgotten mittens and take photos.

The gang sans Burak (photographer) and Sinan (on the slopes)

Sister in law Zeynep's frozen hair.

Tunca taking the "butt lift" by himself.

He skis!

And is as stylish as I am!

Burak's occasional break... and I am asleep?

Tunca & Tamas

Building a snow castle...

Ali, Arda, Katrin, Tunca & Tamas. The boys all got medals and candy for their great efforts. Thank you, both!!! We miss you!!

Tunca & Tamas

Katrin & Ali & Arda

Day 7: Ski in the morning and afternoon, drive to Vienna.

Tunca takes photos on the way to Vienna.
And Arda hates that...
so he takes photos of the scenery...
and does a great job!

Have dinner at Grunspun, then drink ourselves silly with Bernd and Bahar back at the Rothensteiners.

Sima checking out Arda's game...

The greatest lobby of the world...

Day 8: After breakfast the guys all go to visit the Natural History Museum while my sister in law, Zeynep and I go shopping and end up buying socks and pajamas for the kids. Dinner at the Burgermeister (I am so no kidding!) where they serve the greatest fries, ever.

The Natural History Museum where Tunca got bitten by a dinosaur...

became a I have no idea, Inuit?

while my brother got attacked by a lionand Arda ran down the stairs (that's just the plain History Museum)

Day 9: Leave early for the airport, return to the hotel because Arda cannot find his Nintendo DS, frantically run thru the room to no avail, return to the car where Arda is crying and Tunca is offering his own to him, make them both shut up because it is my fault, I should have looked better. Arrive at the airport, while returning the car hear Arda say, "oh, here it is" and have eternal joy. Because I did not forget packing it.

Arrive in İstanbul, late, hungry and tired but happy to be home...

Talent and Production

2009-01-13T23:37:00.005+02:00

I think that I lack both. I wish I could sew. Or draw. Or throw a pot with some sense of precision. I try, though.

Maybe singing is my calling, yet the call to create something, the terrible, horrible feeling of not being able to produce anything often overwhelms me. And I am once again left with the sucky feeling of dissatisfaction and futility. Not utility.

Check this out by Mike Lowery of ArgyleAcademy:
So Mike drew this when he went out to lunch with a friend. How cool, how simple yet witty and cute and funny is that?

Lauran Alane, my favorite felter/designer has the most amazing needle felted birds:

Now that's talent!

Peter Pan and I

2009-01-09T00:09:00.005+02:00

Call me shallow, but amongst all the great movies I have seen (and believe me, I have seen many) the one that always, always moves me so is Peter Pan. Yes, that version of Peter Pan.

The whole "never is an awfully long time" thing moves me. So does the destitute in Hook's (and Tink's!) face when he realizes that Peter "has found himself a... Wendy. And Hook is all alone." And lines like "you... are a codfish" make me giggle. And Mr. Darling's reference to bravery about how he put away many of his dreams as he locked them in a drawer which gets harder and harder to close after he secretly admires them late at night... yet he still does close the damn thing.

Anyways, I just came across the movie while zapping through channels tonight, and after a dull Turkish Cup soccer game between Galatasaray and Altay, it felt just right.

We have the DVD and every chance I get, I tell the boys that I would like to watch it. Sometimes they agree, more often we end up cracking up at Spongebob or ScoobyDoo. They both do know that I would pick Peter Pan if it was up to me. They make fun of me when I cry at certain scenes, yet I sometimes catch a glimpse of a tear on their faces here and there as well. I want them to know that love is captivating (both in terms of imprisonment and amazement) and liberating at the same time. And I hope, really, truly hope that they are fine with feeling that way.

Our trip was great. A few friends cancelled at the last minute and we were worried about the road conditions for a while, but we made it safe and sound and had a wonderful time with dear friends.

Here are some photos:

Adatepe

Arda hanging out with goats on the way back from the Zeus Altar.

Tunca & Z hiking. Sorta.

Gang of boys @ Zeytinbağı.

Food @ Zeytinbağı.

New Year's Eve @ Zeytinbağı.

Cool ladies.

Cool ladies v.2

Holiday Cheer.

2008-12-30T22:05:00.004+02:00

Yeah, I know the holidays are almost over. As usual, I never got around to mailing any cards (I forgot to even buy the cards this year, ha!) and the annual quintessential holiday email I send will probably be postponed until the week of January 5th.
Attention shoppers, Z is very lazy and busy this year, plus she's running around planning parties and gifts for 1179 children (seriously, the holiday parties at school were great but they really took their toll on me), plus a book fair involving over 60 publishers, plus getting together a gazillion documents for our trip to Austria (I swear, the only thing the Embassy did not ask for the visa documents was the color of my mom's underwear) plus getting tickets and dealing with everyone who canceled out at the last minute for our trip to Mount Ida plus getting gifts for my own children (Arda got an Ibanez GRG Micro electric guitar that he has asked for the past two years, as well as a sketching set, Tunca got my camera plus a little robot that, well, just walks) while having a grand time with my newest find, the Rowenta Lissima Clip and Press.
I am a bit scared that this blog will morph into a shopping frenzied mom's list of her endless endeavors into the shallow world of capitalism. Might happen, sooner or later, because the "purpose" of zymzym is my attempts at forcing myself to write. The countless stories and the two novels I started then dumped prove that I am not a long project oriented person but a shallow one with the attention span of a sparrow. Or a guppy.
Anyways, tomorrow we leave at 6AM to try and get on the boat to Bandırma to reach Mount Ida at a reasonable time for us to comfortably celebrate the arrival of the new year with our closest friends at Zeytinbağı, a nice little hotel on the outskirts of the mountains. But the boats have been canceled for the past two days due to storms and we are actually having a hard time deciding what route to take.
Anyways.
Happy new year everyone!
PTA members standing guard for the gifts.
All we need are earphones for Arda and earplugs for us now.
My new favorite gizmo.

The meltdown.

2008-12-12T22:52:00.002+02:00

Turkish holidays are grand. After a 9 day holiday in November, we braced ourselves for the celebration of Eid, a Muslim holiday, for another 9 days, packed with activities. Most people go on a vacation of some sort, some overseas, some south to the Mediterranean, but we make do with short getaways during Easter, winter break and spring break since Burak works with an European schedule.

The first few days we managed fine, with lots of crafts and restaurants and family visits. Burak's birthday allowed us to keep them busy making lots and lots of cards and origami ("here mom, I made an elephant for dad but it turned out to be a boat") and sporadic food experiments (yes, we did the mentos & diet coke experiment in our backyard and dudes, it's awesome!) Then we went to a basketball game (well, we first took the kids to Asmalımescit and Pera area and walked around a bit), and the anticipation of that kept them excited and busy. Then we tricked them into staying at home for a few hours with the promise of a movie - at night and 7+ rating (they really did get a kick out of all the swearing in AROG, a Turkish comedy of some sort). But today, after all our plans fell thru and their cousin was late for a playdate and all my efforts (puzzles, more crafts, a 2 liter diet coke bottle and two packs of mentos, the computer games, 7 songs on Guitar Hero, cookies, more cookies, decorating the cookies, letting them clean up the mess from the cookies by licking the freaking table and giggling endlessly, then burning the cookies and letting them experiment with the burnt cookies) failed at keeping them entertained, I gave up.

I yelled at them after they started screaming into each others ears with makeshift loudspeakers, and they were very loud. I asked them over and over and over and over again to stop screaming, then they started to wrestle and screamed again and I had my first official meltdown of the holiday season.

So I decided to get my hair colored again, this time, back to its original brown. So there. I am the mother of two little boys, who seem to be having a great time screaming and giggling and doing silly stuf, just like they're supposed to be doing, and I just could not handle it anymore. So I want my hair back to its original color. That should do the trick.

The Dream

2008-12-03T19:04:00.006+02:00

While speaking to my mom today, she said, "we all had dreams, and somehow we had to compromise and make do with whatever life dealt us. What's important is not to get bitter about it and move on."

She's so cool. And deep. I wanted to write something about dreams, and hopes and something deep.

Here's what came up:
I promise not to get bitter if I don't get it, though.

Now, I am not that big a fan of Scandinavian design, though some stuff from Eva just blew my mind.

How appropriate is this for Turkish culture? Bring your own grill.

Tunca's World

2008-12-02T00:45:00.001+02:00

Here's a new picture he drew:

Istanbul, on a good day

2008-12-02T00:13:00.005+02:00

Istanbul can be heaven.

When I get a cab just as I step outside, and catch the boat to Eminönü without waiting, and it's mellow and cool at the same time... When dolphins swim along the boat and everyone just forgets about the looming economic doom and their general state of dispair for just a few moments. When I chat with strangers about cookie recipes while looking at baking supplies and Christmas decorations (right before a Muslim holiday, too). When I dance without noticing to some Turkish pop tune and noone stares at me as though I am crazy (people usually do, especially when I dance when I'm driving and stuck in traffic) and some even smile.

When I miss the boat on the way back, and just when I am about to complain and wait for the next boat, I realize that the usual blue green waters of the Bosphorus has turned purple and the sky is both blue and grey and pink and burgundy and an old man squeals with delight when a seagull grabs his sandwich on the boat.,

Istanbul can be heaven.

Belted

2008-11-25T20:57:00.004+02:00

Now, here's something completely philosophical and deep...

I have a total of three belts, two of which are military style buckled gray belts by Quicksilver:

And one that's a bit more dressy, a suede one that has a light brown shade. Couldn't find a photo of that one because I have no idea where I got it (probably off the street a decade ago in New York?).

Here's what I want as a belt:
Yeah. That.

The Scanner

2008-11-15T01:00:00.002+02:00

Burak brought home his ex printer, which doesn't print (or fax because, well I have no idea) anymore and I wanted to use it as a scanner. I haven't had the chance to connect it yet, but if I did, I would have scanned this picture of our family that Tunca drew:

Four stick figures, all with eyelashes, right hair colors (no hair for Burak), phalanges (look it up, it's one of my favorite Bones' scenes) standing next to each other. Everyone is labeled: mom, dad, brother and ACNUT (he spells his name backwards for some reason). Plus floating around are the following:

An orange goldfish labeled "ketchup" (passed away summer of 08).
A freckled goldfish labeled "dalmatian" (passed away winter of 07)
A yellow cat labeled "bead/boncuk" (the kitten we found under our car in August 2007 that had two broken hind legs and took to the vet to get platinum pins etc).

All part of our family.

PTA

2008-11-12T01:36:00.002+02:00

Well. Some of you may know that I love being a part of Arda's school's PTA. I get to work with some really nice people, spend time with my son, and drive. A lot.

Here's how much: usually, a tank of gas gets me thru a whole month. I walk a lot. And love cabs. Since I became the president of the PTA (yeah, had to put that one in, too :), I've been filling up once a week. Because I drive 52 miles, round trip. That's like 85 kilometers for those of us on the metric system. And there are committees and meetings and all kinds of actually cool stuff going on, which makes me drive to and back from school, like, three times a week.

Arda takes the school bus every day. He can handle it. So should I.

Speaking of which, I really need to change the scale in the bathroom. The one we have works just fine, but only displays lbs, so I have to try and calculate how much I weigh every single time. And my brain hurts from the exertion.

Muse

2008-11-02T21:54:00.002+02:00

My post about my distractions included a reference (and the video clip) to Muse's Knights of Cydonia.

I am listening to Muscle Museum, finally, after writing down a few sentences of the lyrics on the radio today (because it would just kill İstanbul's K Rock 94.5 to bring back the "name of the song/performer" gizmo back online for car radios, right?). And I love it.

Since YouTube is still banned in Turkey, I can't give a link to the clip, but do look it up and listen to it.. It is heaven.

The Spoils of the Trip

2008-10-29T18:04:00.006+02:00

So there is lots to post about the wedding, about how I got see some people I haven't seen in over 15 years, and the trip etc. Hang tight.

For those of you wondering about the plunder, here's a preview:

This one:

and this one:

And this little baby:
(I love outlets)

Blogger is back!

2008-10-29T09:19:00.005+02:00

This is what you would have seen instead of my usual minty green blog if you tried to access it during the past few days from anywhere in Turkey.

Here's the story behind it... Blogger & Blogspot was added to one of the many "banned" sites in Turkey (in addition to YouTube) because someone posted (on their blogstop blog) links to sites where you could watch Turkish soccer games without paying for Digiturk's digital TV platform. So Digiturk sued blogger and let the Turkish courts know what was going on and the Turkish courts decided to just ban the whole darn thing. Just in case. No idea how it came back. But I can post & write now. What a wonderful world, huh?

You can find more info here and here.

Blogger BANNED in Turkey!

2008-10-28T09:53:00.000+02:00

I am having a hard time updating my blog due to the Turkish Courts' decision to ban Blogger and Blogspot. These brand new bans are in addition to the youtube ban, and today, Google Video has been banned. I am posting this through a proxy and have lots to post about, but the connection is slow and I cannot upload any photos etc.

I also cannot view any of your blogs if they're posted by blogger or blogspot unless I do the whole proxy thing. Sorry...

Censorship sux.

Happy Birthday...

2008-10-13T01:19:00.002+02:00

to me...

We all know the quintessential letter a blogger writes to her chil dren for their birthdays, right?

Here's mine, to myself, for myself.

The aura that surrounds you will keep glowing and you will keep growing and though you may think that you do not deserve all that you have, you do. So trust yourself, and enjoy. Your children are your legacy since you do not seem to understand what everyone says about the "uniqueness" you supposedly have, so keep doing what you're doing - cherish them.

Stop bickering about directions with your husband while he drives. He hates that.

I'm on my way.

2008-10-04T01:35:00.003+02:00

This will be the first "solo" vacation I have taken in... (drum roll, please) 14 years! Ever since I met Burak, I went everywhere with him. Save for a business trip here and there in the late 90s, we were always together. After the kids were born, I did join him in London for the past two years for a weekend, but other than those few exceptions, I went everywhere with family. My parents are actually going as well, so technically, I am not going "solo" but I think this counts as well.

I am going to visit my host parents from high school in San Diego because my lovely sister Alexis is getting married. Wouldn't miss it in a lifetime. I do feel guilty about leaving my family behind, but I think they can manage for a week without me.

As a punishment, I wow to buy/experience the highest heels, the most ridiculously expensive clutches, strangest shades of eye color and great Mexican food.

Orchids

2008-10-02T01:03:00.005+02:00

What is up with putting orchids in bathrooms? I have been seeing this "design" idea of orchids in bathrooms for a while now. They are everywhere. Well, no they're not everywhere. But they're probably in every newly renovated bathroom I've been in for the past few years. Cafes had them first, and apparently someone thought, "orchids will do great in bathrooms" and voila! Now they're in houses' bathrooms. Guest bathrooms mostly.

They don't really smell either or maybe the stink of months and years of poop and piss have overwhelmed them into oblivion and they have just given up. I do remember orchids smelling really nice when I first saw them at a fair in San Diego, but bathrooms? Who was that comedian talking about why people put citrusy candles and air fresheners in bathrooms? (The whole orange and butt smell joke??) See I'm getting distracted again.

As I surf (yeah, I know, I hate that term as well) thru design websites, I come across only a few that truly make me say, "well, if I had a house, and buckets full of money, that's the designer I'd go with."

James Mohn is one of those designers who makes me want to buy a (real) house. I love his lofts and the airy and relaxed yet very very comfortable looking houses (yeah, Hamptons baby). So imagine my surprise when I came across this photo:
Copyright by James Mohn Design Studio, you know that...

I would love to post a photo of my bathroom counter space as well, but it is too late and for those of who know me, it is just way too messy to reveal to the public. Even if I did have such a sleek bathroom counter, I would do my best to keep it uncluttered, but the orchid, James?

OK - I understand the need for humidity for orchids, but guest bathrooms do not have baths or showers. They must be missing the point. Besides, even if they were in presence of actual baths, the constant change in humidity would suck the life out of them, right?

Don't tell me, "Z, get a life, who cares?"

You're right. I have these bamboo sticks in my living for the past three years as well. In case we get a panda to come by or something.

ps: coming soon, foliage, in a bathroom near you.

Family First Days

2008-09-19T22:44:00.008+02:00

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I left home when I was 15 to go to high school in San Diego... I am desperately attached to my parents. At the age of 34, the thought of spending a few hours with them makes my day, and yesterday, as I sat on the edge of the Bosphorus with my dad, eating grilled meatballs in my Beşiktaş uniform and then walked to the stadium to see the game (in which we kicked Ukrainian Metalist's orange clad butts 1-0) I definitely felt happy. Truly happy. Yelled and screamed and cursed and jumped and cheered the Beşiktaş style among the raunchiest fans ever. Had a great time. Wished we had more tickets so my sons and husband and mom and brother and his son and wife and my in laws came as well, but just being with my dad was also enough.
I will tie this to Rebecca's and Kristen's shower, I really will.
When I was pregnant with Arda, 3 weeks before he was due, I went to my routine check up where I was informed that I was 3cm dialated and the baby looked and sounded great and not to make another appointment, that Arda would probably show up that week.

So I called my parents, who were living in İstanbul, while Burak and I had been living in NYC for the past 6 years and at the time enjoying the wonderful 175,000 degree NYC weather. My mom came two days later. Arda had other thoughts in mind, though, so he decided to show up a whole month later, a week after he was due. That made everyone's plans a bit tighter than then had planned, my brother, sister in law and my dad got on a plane the day Arda was born and arrived the next day.

So for Arda's first days at home, I was surrounded by all my family. It was wonderful to see everyone precious to me there to witness the most meaningful creation I had brought to this world. In that tiny one bedroom apartment, 3AM nursing sessions (no matter now painful and frustrating) turned into family chat times when my mom told me of my first days in life. The sporadic "this child is hungry and your milk is not enough" comments faded the second I told them I was determined to give it a serious try - they trusted my instincts. Arda was fussy, sleepless and I was such a novice - but having my very supportive family around for the first few days made me a more patient, more sufficient mom. With Arda's every whim, with questions about his umbilical cord, circumcision, breastfeeding, everything, they saw me, day by day, learn to be a "mom." We went to Bryant Park together in the afternoons for lemonade and sandwiches, and Arda was luck enough to spend his first days of life with everyone that I love.

It was the same with Tunca - this time it was easier and much much more fun because we were living in İstanbul then, and everyone could hang out at our house for hours, playing with Arda, eating, watching soccer games, taking walks, yet everyone had the chance to go back to their homes at night to leave me with my beautiful sons. But when the morning came, someone always dropped by, sometimes with a juicy watermelon, sometimes with some DVDs but more often, chocolate and ice cream.

So, I don't know Kristen's family relationships, but as far as I can tell, Rebecca has a wonderful time with her parents, and I do wish for both of their babies (and other children) to be surrounded by loving, supportive extended families as they grow up.

On another note, the seeds of the virtual community of "mom bloggers" probably soared from the pregnancy and playgroup forums back in the late 90s. I still keep in touch with some wonderful women from my June 2000 pregnancy (and then playgroup) IVillage board, and I am profoundly proud and lucky to have such a support group, no matter the thousands of miles and the millions of opinions that separate us.

"What Happened to Me on My Holiday"

2008-09-16T15:06:00.006+02:00

This is a short story by Martin Amis. I read a Turkish translation of it in a literary magazine back in 2004 and actually have been looking for the story for the past few weeks.

Tunca and I found a dead fish in the water back in Bodrum. Actually Arda saw it first, swam by it, then went surfing with friends while Tunca begged me to go and get the dead fish. So I did. I assumed he just wanted to see what it looked like. He examined it. It was missing an eye, but other than that, there were no apparent injuries (I did watch enough CSI and Bones to determine "no apparent cause of death") so I told him that the fish probably got sick and died and another fish ate his eye. Tunca thought another way - the fish had an eye injury and because he couldn't see, he couldn't eat, so that's why he died. From hunger.

We ended up taking the fish back home, so he could show it to his dad.

At home, he said, "I will keep this as a pet" just like Pablo said in Amis' story. I told him the fish stank, that he was dead, and that he could show it to his dad and then we could "free" him back to the seas where he would be happy. "Other fish will eat him," said Tunca. "They will eat his other eye as well. He'll be more hurt than he is now."
He is dead, Tunca. He is not hurt anymore.

Tunca cried. Cried and cried and cried some more. Then we made a deal. He could keep the fish until after his nap. Then he could either toss it back to the sea, bury it, or feed it to the stray kittens in the yard. So he cried some more. Like Pablo, he said he could stop the fish from smelling. He would clean it every day and put perfume on it and stop it from smelling.

I did not understand. Similar to Pablo's cries of "I'm a lion costume" Tunca has a different sense of reality from me most of the times. Probably all children do at some age. It is when I realize that I have lost that special sense of reality that I feel old.

The kittens loved the fish by the way.

The Chair Issue

2008-09-11T23:04:00.004+02:00

I have this chair. A simple, burgundy office chair that Başak, my sister in law gave me as a birthday gift back in 1995 when I was a Senior in college. I spent thousands of hours writing on this chair. Probably more playing solitaire. A few hundred just spinning it with my sons. It has an suspension system with a lever that allows you to adjust its height with adjustable lumbar support- but that broke back in 2001 when we were moving from NYC to İstanbul so its just a wiggly back now. Still, it is the most comfortable chair I have. My beloved chair. Looks like this:

Tunca was watching a movie on my computer yesterday while Arda and I watched a basketball game on TV and he somehow broke the suspension system while trying to make the chair higher. So everytime I sit on the chair, I have to adjust it and the moment I get up, the chair moves, by itself, to the top position. Then I sit on the darn thing and it slowly lowers itself down to the bottom. It is just annoying. And weird.

Somewhere and sometime along the hazy days and nights when I was devouring baby and toddler books, I read that as a parent, you have to pick your fights. One of those fights, for me, is the "breaking stuff" issue. Kids break things, by accident, it's a given. That's why I don't have expensive furniture or vases or mirrors or plates or glasses and such at home and never make it an issue when they do accidentally break things. So Tunca thought it was very strange that I was upset because neither him nor his brother have seen me upset over something that was broken. I explained to him that I really liked the chair, that the suspension could be fixed quite easily, but that he was not a baby anymore and should stop messing with the furniture (he has a thing for jimmying locks and clocks and washers and vacuums and writing on tables and what have you).

It really was not a fight worth picking. It just made him sad and he really did not do it intentionally. So even though I knew deep inside that I should not have made a big deal out of it, I couldn't stop yapping about it.

When I realize that I have done something wrong with my children, I feel totally helpless. I know I can't be a perfect mom, there is no such thing and my children will always have a memory of me doing something wrong, no matter how hard I try. The point is, I try my best. But I do fail at times.

But come on, my beloved office chair?

Hamam Stuff

2008-09-03T20:09:00.005+02:00

Our sweet friend Müge gave Burak & I the coolest (and only!) anniversary gifts ever from Bodrum Havlu - robes and peştemals (loincloths used in Turkish baths) that are so soft, so quick drying, so absorbent and oh so sooo wonderfully luxurious:

These got me thinking that I could get similar things for Alexis' wedding gifts when I go and visit them in October. I am looking online, but have already found a couple of stores in İstanbul that sell similar products. Let me know if you have any suggestions as to what to get for baby Hannah (almost 1.5) and İlayda (will be 3) as gifts as well.

Waves

2008-09-03T17:24:00.002+02:00

Here's what I could do with one of the videos:

Reality check.

2008-09-03T16:24:00.006+02:00

Well, we are back. The grueling two hour drive from a friends house that's about 20 miles away proved that. İstanbul is back to its chaotic days, with the wonderful addition of school buses to traffic and Ramadan rush hours. Upon my return t my beloved blogmarks, I learned that my friend Ahu started to teach nursery school, though her plans were something, well not that, so I need to catch up and be a better friend. And Susan seems to be having problems with her theme and photo quota stuff, so stop by and let her know if you know a cool theme with a gigangic photobucket quota. (I don't even know if that's possible but hey :)

Arda is trying to finish his never ending summer homework. I was actually thinking that it is not fair to expect him to finish all the stuff they gave - I was not about to ask him to give up on swimming and playing in the sand and hide and seek at night to go home and do homework. Today, the PTA meeting I was put at my right place - "that homework needs to done, by Monday" said his teacher. Ugh. So we are back to doing homework again. what happened to just reading books for the summer? Anyways, she has a point. But so do I.

Tunca started school today, after spending the past two days whining about not wanting to go to school. I was sad that I couldn't be there for his first day in his "big" class because I had to go to Arda's school, but Burak says that he seemed happy to go back. He is in a different building, but with the same teacher so that should work out fine, I guess.

Our month in Bodrum was great - once again, I was able to see how the boys grew so much and were so happy with all the swimming and the clean air and the playing and being with family and friends.. My uncle was there as well for about 10 days and they really loved hanging out with him. My dad played with them in the water, my mom told them stories, my brother advised them on how comfortable it is to hang out without underwear, and lots and lots of friends showed up for great lunches, dinners, and just hanging out. Here are some pictures:
On the boat..

Surfing with Emre, Tunca's friend.
View from our rental.
Learning the multiplication table with grandpa.
Surfing.
Water sports with friends. Scary.
Snorkeling gear ready. That's the little boat Burak's sister lent us - we ended up having a great time with it actually.
Arda on the boat.
Waves... Very rare at the beach where we are. There's a video of this as well - if I can figure out how to make it smaller, I'll upload that as well.
Yes, that is a finger. And its not for me, it's for grandma.
Tunca snorkeling. There's a video of that one as well.

Bodrum Bodrum

2008-08-12T00:04:00.002+02:00

We arrived in Bodrum after a 24 hour cruise ride which was pleasant. It was a bit hard to keep the kids occupied for hours because I really did not want them in the greenish mucky pool and Burak was working, so we ended up playing Uno for hours and walking around the boat. Oh and the guy who runs the Playstation 2 booth must have enough money for a new house - the three of us played PES and some race game for hours.

I will post pictures soon, but as always we love the place where we're staying. It's right on the beach, the boys can go in and out of the sea and just walk back home, play hide and seek with friends at night and just hang out by themselves (and dare I say, leave me be for a while). They're very happy here. Tunca is somehow swimming without his floaties, and he is very proud of himself while Arda found his friends from last year and keeps building castles and dams and towers and all sorts of architectural wonders which he turns over to babies and younger kids on the beach to ruin and watches and laughs... He truly makes the most of the beach here - he goes by himself around 9:30am and save for a few hours I make him stay home because hey, it's like 200 degrees outside during the noon hours, he stays there and swims until about 7pm.

Pictures to come soon (I did bring the cable to the camera, I know I did).

After

2008-07-31T01:58:00.007+02:00

Well, I wanted to do a "before and after" thing for the couch, but the "before" shot got mysteriously deleted from the camera. I found this photo from last year, you can see the burgundy coach on the far right:
And here's the after:
Yes, I love Guitar Hero 3.

Camp Pictures

2008-07-31T01:16:00.006+02:00

Here are some pictures from the CD that the camp sent us...
The buses arrive - Arda was on bus no. 2.

The coaches greet the kids...

... with "high fives"

and confetti...So the kids have basketball practice 4x daily.
But they take breaks
It seems cold.
Stretching...
You see the kid with the orange shirt in the back? Looks like he's sleeping? Yeah, that's Arda.
Shooting hoops.
Again...
They get to choose a 5th activity, and apparently, that was soccer for most of them..
"Disco" party. Arda looks really out of it. Emre looks sad. That's their room coach, Ufuk. "He's really cool." says Arda.
But they do get to watch a movie once a week, after lunch.
Itinerary for the 26 km hike. Starts far left by the tack tagged "Beyzbol Sahasi" (baseball field) and goes all the way to the right where it says "Zirve" (peak). The CD had zillions of pictures on it, and by far, the organization of the hike was what impressed me the most. They photographed the preparation of the sandwiches, the "orientation" where they apparently went over every step of the way, where they would stop, where they would eat, what they were going to see, what they needed to wear, and to bring along.

Yep, they went all the way up there, and that's not even the peak!
He looks happy!
The field day, where they had blindfolded yoghurt eating contests and other stuff that I can't figure out.
Award ceremony - I think Arda got "best sportsmanship" and "best dribble."

And here are the pictures that I took:
The buses arrive...
And here he is... My baby.

Adventures

2008-07-29T13:05:00.003+02:00

We leave for Bodrum on Thursday. We'll be taking the Sea Line boat, and the cruise will take 24 hours. It was always a hassle bringing the car to Bodrum, so it will hopefully be a practical and cheap considering the gas prices and finding a driver, arranging for his return to İstanbul etc. Anyways, more details on that to follow soon.

Here's a wonderful addition to the stuff I have to face every day, I got stuck in a bathroom stall this past Sunday. I think it tops my "most embarrassing moment" to date - that was when I got stuck inside a size 4 skirt in a clothing store two years ago and had to ask to manager to help me get out. I wear a size 8. Don't ask.

So I go to use the bathroom in a farm where my cool friend Pelin was having a birthday party for her daughter Mercan, Tunca's classmate. The minute I closed the door, the handle broke and I was stuck. Everyone was busy with presents and food and kites and all I could do was just sit on the stall and laugh at myself.

What would you do if you were stuck in a bathroom stall?

Climb on top of the wall, and jump to the next stall, right?

After cleaning the partition of the cobwebs and dust the best I could (what? I was wearing a new outfit) I climbed up, and being the chicken s*it that I am, was now, successfully, stuck on the wall, nearly 8 feet high, afraid to jump down. And there were spiders. And dust. I could totally feel all my allergies going crazy, and just as my hands started breaking out in hives, I saw the guy who was barbecuing right in front of the bathroom.

- Umm, hi, can you help me? I got stuck?
- Yeah, that door handle is broken. (You tell me that now? NOW? I know it's broken. You should have said something when I asked you where the bathroom is you a*swipe).

And with a quick step into the womens bathroom, he opens the door to the stall.

- Well, can you please call my husband? I can't get down. (I've climbed and I can't get down. Yes.)

Burak comes, along with Tunca, who has to pee right then and there, and before any attempts to bring me down, he attends to our wonderful son, who is screaming with laughter at my situation saying "look at mom, look at mom, perched up there like a bird" over and over.

Anyways, Burak brings me a chair, and holds me until I slowly lower myself down. I am so lame and unfit and a coward. With the "stuck in a skirt" situation, I know that I won't even have to see that store manager or the two saleswomen who tried to take the stupid skirt off of me, and they will not know my name and maybe they are laughing at me during their holiday parties , but hey, they're strangers.. With my wonderful family, the "perched on a wall like a bird" comment is likely to continue until I do something even more stupider.

Magic Words

2008-07-23T01:46:00.003+02:00

My friend, Ahu, seems to be having a tough day.

I sure wish ViaLetter had ultra mega super fast express service so she could decorate her snazzy new apartment like this:
And then use ViaLetter to send whomever pissed her off a nice little package that contains the letters, K, R, E, and J. Figure it out.

He's BACK!

2008-07-17T15:38:00.002+02:00

Arda has come back home - he looks a bit thinner, tanner, quieter. The past few days we spent basically glued to each other. I started bawling my eyes out when I saw him on the bus. Two weeks. Only two weeks, and he has grown, physically and emotionally. He seems a bit more tolerant, has more confidence. Camp really did wonders for him. He seems a bit tired - probably because of the 26 km walk (not 16, as mentioned in my other post) and the grueling basketball practice 4x daily, and maybe because he is having a hard time adjusting to the heat and smog here (Uludag has a high altitude and the weather is clear as a, well, mountain top, I guess). Pictures to follow soon.

Friends will be Friends

2008-07-14T11:09:00.005+02:00

It's time for all our friends living abroad to make their way to Turkey right about now. Mid-July - August is when we get to see people from our past, people who were our "best man" in our wedding, people who bought their first houses and invited us to see it first, people who still live "over there" - some enjoying their dreams, some yearning to come back.

So Thursday, we went to a surprise birthday party in NuTeras. Asyak is a gorgeous friend we met a few years ago - and her husband Sarp managed to get 20+ people together to surprise her. We went to Mikla by mistake at first - no it was Sarp's fault - he told us to meet at Mikla!!! My dad babysat for Tunca, we had a great time, apparently so did they.

Here's Asyak in all her beauty:
We spent Friday evening going to AltınKek for cake & lemonade for Tunca, then walked over to the beach to watch fireworks, very common during weddings in Turkey.

Saturday evening we were in Köşebaşı with my cool friends Pelin and Tolga and their daughters Mercan and Şiraz - Mercan goes to school with Tunca - Pelin & I went to the same middle school for about 4 years.

Sunday we were in Village Park with Cem & Pınar & Duru, then drove around Beykoz looking for houses. At night we went to Feriye for dinner with Burak's sister - I think that restaurant has the best view I have ever seen in the Bosphorus.

We actually spent the whole weekend eating. And with friends. It doesn't get any better than this.

edit: we got an email from another friend, Cüneyt, Sunday evening saying that they're all here in İstanbul as well, so we met them in Reina for drinks and dinner. Cüneyt was Burak's "witness"/best man in our wedding, Gökhan and Selen are one our oldest friends, Seyhan (sans her husband Burak) and Süreyya and Karen were there for a wonderful blue cruise back in 1997... We all see each other (maybe) twice a year, and life goes on, yet things to talk about never cease and our friendship seems to survive the thousands of miles between us all. Süreyya and Karen's son, Morgan, the "firstborn" to the whole group, was there as well and has truly grown up to be a gorgeous, kind, smart and polite young man - so mature for his age.

Blog Traffic Whining

2008-07-08T23:57:00.004+02:00

I want this shirt from Despair:
But I want them to customize it by having it say: "More people read this shirt than MY blog."

And this one, for both the boys (wish they came in kids' sizes):
Despair is filled with stuff that I love. And I always crack up at the way they make fun of themselves... Check out the note on their "shopping cart" page, will ya.

16 Kilometers = 10 Miles

2008-07-08T12:40:00.003+02:00

Arda did hike 16 kilometers. We spoke last night. The group started with 18 children, hiking up Uludag mountain early in the morning. Only 8 of them made it to the summit, among them, my sweet Arda. They cooled down at one these glacier lakes near the summit, Arda said he only dipped his feet, but one his coaches swam. The hike took about 11 hours, and afterwards all the kids were sent to the infirmary to get looked at - they all were fine.

I am so proud of him. He is so proud of himself.

Consumption

2008-07-08T11:18:00.005+02:00

A few years ago, I was contemplating getting a Vespa for myself. I seldom drive anywhere, usually either walk or take a cab, and with both the boys at school during the day, I thought a cool Vespa would do the trick. I could find a second hand one, and it would be cheaper than taking cabs, and would be environmentally responsible with all the gas prices

One night, while we were watching E.L. Raymond, I told my husband, "you know, I might want a Vespa."

He looked at me, with his incredible lashes and amazing green eyes, and asked:

"Are you so unhappy?"

The cliche of women finding comfort in shopping does apply to me. It might seem shallow, and I am a sucker for shoes and handbags, yet the year was 2002 when I bought my last handbag, and I managed not to buy one single pair of shoes since early 2007. A Vespa, though, now that is what I call a midlife crisis.

I never bought that Vespa. It was not safe to ride around in the treacherous streets of İstanbul, and what if I needed to take the kids somewhere, and everyone would see my butt crack because of the low cut pants I used to wear, alas, no Vespa for me.

The point of all this ranting and reminiscing about the averted crisis, is that yesterday, as I walked home wearing my beloved yet so unfairly not worn often orange and green platforms, I stopped over at an upholstery store and called my husband to say, "I found the perfect, perfect plaid for the single couch."

His reaction was, "Are you so unhappy again?"

No! I am quite content actually. I miss my son, but he'll be back next week. I am busy with my pottery, consulting for friends, having fun, and will be on vacation in about three weeks. Life is good.

It's just that the platforms were hard to walk on, I needed a rest, and the plaid was just what I was looking for. I really need to prioritize.

I'll do a before - after post of the reupholstered couch soon.

ps.: that rocking couch was the first "new" thing we bought for our apartment other than the lamps when we were living in NYC. And, it is only furniture (other than Arda's crib and our bookcase) that I brought back to Turkey while moving.

Happy Camper

2008-07-04T23:22:00.002+02:00

My worries have subsided a bit - here's how my first phone conversation went with Arda, after four days of camp:

A: Hi mom
Z: Hi honey, how are you?
A: Great.
Z: Are you having fun?
A: Yeah. We have so much fun here that we don't want to go to bed but we end up falling asleep really quickly. I guess I get tired after all the fun.
Z: (worried that he's totally making that up so as not to let his feelings out) So, what activities do you like the best?
A: We spent the night on the mountain, in a tent last night.
Z: That sounds great.
A: We giggled so much they told us to be quiet like 20 times.
(pause)
You know what, we have the biggest room in camp.
Z: Who else is in your room?
A: (counts four boys' names, plus his coach) We have the biggest room. It's great. And we get to shower at 6PM every day. Then we play games all night. And we dance.
Z: How about basketball?
A: We have practice, umm, three times I think, but mostly we play. And it's here. I used all my sweatshirts. But they're not dirty. I used my windbreaker last night. And that's not dirty. And my shoes are perfect. They're not dirty either.
Z: Well, it's OK if they get dirty, your coach can tell you how to clean them, or I can send you extras after the weekend.
A: It's OK. I can manage. Oh, I get your emails. And my cousin sent me an email. There was a picture. He wrote that my uncle looks stupid. I laughed really hard. I showed it to all my friends. They laughed, too.
Z: Your brother wants to say hi (I put him on speakerphone)
Tunca: Hi Arda. I miss you (and he gets teary eyed). I miss you.
A: I miss you, too. Are you OK
T: Mom, you speak
Z: Tunca is great. He is going to summer school and swims everyday.
A: Tell him we can't swim here. Maybe this weekend we can swim. I don't know. Tell him there is no pool.
Z: OK. I'll tell him.
A: I have to go.
Z: OK. I miss you! I Love you! We'll talk on Monday.
A: I miss you, too. Yes. Write me emails. I got two emails one day, July 3rd. I got my uncles and my father's as well. I can't write back, though. I don't have a computer.
Z: I'll write to you, don't worry.
A: Bye
Z: Bye honey.

Then I spoke his room coach for a few minutes. He said everything was great, that ARda was really doing well, and he was getting along with everyone.

So I feel better. I still miss him. But I definitely feel better.

Burak also spoke to Arda later, and he said that Arda really sounded happy as well. Ufuk, the room coach, said they have a 16 km hike tomorrow. Yikes. I hope he's mistaken and that's 6km. There's no way Arda can hike 16 kms. I can't hike 16 kms.

What are you doing now?

2008-07-01T23:12:00.003+02:00

For those of you who have experience with sending your children to camp, please forgive me if I seem anxious or weird or downright scared.

Arda has been wanting to attend the summer camp organized by his basketball club for the past two years. Last year, I told him he was too young to go. This year, seeing the yearning in his eyes, I gave in.

He left early this morning. I spent most of the day sleeping, the only interlude being picking up Tunca from school and playing chess and checkers with him. The moments I was awake were filled with questions about what my 8 year old son was doing without me. "He must have been hungry, he only had a bite to eat at 6AM this morning" or "will he remember to put sunscreen on?" or "I wonder if he has fallen asleep yet" or "I miss him."

I know that this is a great opportunity for him to experience wonderful things, to improve his basketball, to meet new people, and to grow.

He certainly seemed ready and eager to go this morning. I certainly am not ready.

This is where he went: http://www.geleceginyildizlari.com

There is an English version, as well.

Happy birthday to my baby II.

2008-06-18T23:31:00.004+02:00

So, it's after 12AM here and it's your birthday Tunca.

Another post to write about my feelings. Here it goes: I had always feared how I could love another child like I did your brother. The cliche of a mother having endless love for all her children did prove to be true though - your birth was sudden, early and quick and it epitomized the notion of "love at first sight" to the dot. We thought you would be a brunette at first because the little hair you had was brown, and you had (and still do have) the darkest eyes I have ever seen - yet they seem to sparkle extraordinarily.

The myth of a second child being easier faded as I struggled with finding time for your very basic needs and those of your brother, who was just a toddler when you were born. I tried to love you the most when your brother was around so he could learn how to love another, and it seemed to work. As we always tell him, you were, and still are, awed by Arda, from the moment you opened your eyes. I know that is a good thing - you love him and you want to be like him, but you as yourself is precious and cherished just the way you are.

The guilt that I carry about not taking you to the park as many times as I've taken your brother, or not spending as much time as I did with your brother and many such worries seems to wane when I look at you and see what a great fabulous incredible wonderful child you have grown into.The way you don't give up, the way you try to do everything by yourself without any help, the way you sing made up songs with terrible four letter words and the way you force yourself to step right moves me - believe me that everything about is truly beloved.

Happy birthday baby, Tunca, the baby of the world. I love you.

Father's Day.

2008-06-16T00:13:00.002+02:00

Another quintessential post, I know, I just feel like I have to write it though...

In no particular order...

To my dear father, who always forgives me, no matter how wrong I am, who always expects the most from me, no matter how insecure I am, who always trusts me, no matter how many times I let him down, and who always loved, loves and will love me as his little baby, no matter how old I get...

To my dear husband, who is an unbelievably understanding, giving, joyful, and selfless man to my wonderful children, who never tires of playing with them or explaining to them what is right and what is simply silly, who can watch himself in front of a mirror at 1AM and blow bubbles while washing his face: you rock our world!

To my father in law, who accepted me as a daughter from the moment I met him...

To my grandfather Ali, who patiently taught me how to ride a bike, how to swim, and pretended to have wet the bed that I slept in so I would not get in trouble, I miss you terribly and often dream of us dancing.

To my grandfather İsmail, whom I barely remember, but know in my heart that he held a special place for me in his heart, and can see his legacy in my fathers and uncles lives...

To Paul, who was courageous enough to take care of me as his own daughter at the age of fifteen and pushed me and my bike on countless slopes when my legs gave out...

To Sinan, who is patient and honest and funny and a role model for my children (god help me)...

Happy father's day!

Sleepless.

2008-06-11T14:54:00.002+02:00

There are times, most nights, that I go to sleep so late that when I get up at 6AM for Arda my toothbrush is still wet.

Just like when I went to school, I am so looking forward to summer vacation. 6 hours of sleep a night, minimum, should take care of the bags under my eyes.

Now, if only I could come to terms with Arda going to camp for two weeks... But that's another post.

Happy birthday to my baby.

2008-06-08T23:18:00.004+02:00

As I read "mommy" blogs, I come across many women writing birthday wishes and letters to their children. Many of them describe the moment they first saw their babies - the awe, the wonder, the beauty, the hope all bundled and their own.

I do remember the awe. Your beauty. I do remember, very vividly, the way your spanking new presence brought immense hope. What I wonder, though, is what you saw when you laid your eyes on me.

The euphoria is a must, there is no way you could have missed that, my baby. But did you also feel my fear? My insecurities? I wanted to promise then and there that I would always be there for you, to protect you and to love you and shield you from all the evil and terrible things that happen in life. It came naturally, I had read it in countless books and heard about it in many many songs, and it "fit." But with that "job" came the burden of intense responsibility, the fear of making mistakes - and believe me, I am a sucker for mistakes, and I made many many of them, still do and it's nowhere near ending - but when you're making mistakes that affect yourself, they're easier to shoulder and quicker to recover from. When I realized, the moment you were in my arms, that my mistakes from then on would draw the lines of your future, the ugly face of fear bared its teeth and paralyzed me.

In a few hours time, I got a grip - I controlled how I fed you, how I put you to sleep and who got to be in my room and who needed to stay out. Mind you, only your both grandmothers and aunt were there other than your dad, but for those very few hours, the two of us were all I needed. I guess I was prepping myself for the many years that we would spend together, just the two us, learning from each other.

As days went by, my fear subsided because we lived right by the New York Public Library. If there is someone keeping track of the books people check out and then makes fun of them cracking up at their ineptitude, I would come first with all books on breastfeeding, sleeping, Ferberizing, Weissbluthizing, co-sleeping, pacifier use, discipline, food, and any and every label the library of congress has on childcare. Knowledge gave me the fuel to go on, the mistakes I made and read about uplifted me with the confirmations of the right steps I took and I felt I was doing a pretty good job of being a mom.

You turned me into a patient and easygoing woman - the neurotic, intolerant, and rigid side of me subsided and I happily catered to your every whim, every twenty minutes for the first few months of your life. Another thing that kept me going was my love for mystery novels and I promise when I have a billion dollars I will surely donate some of it the NYPL for keeping me awake those hours of the night.

Anyways, baby, here I am, a mommy blogger, writing my first happy birthday post for you, and believe me, the awe, the wonder, the hope, all of it, continues even more than I first saw you, soaring with every day you grow. Happy birthday. I will always love you.

Sweet Home

2008-06-06T00:55:00.003+02:00

When we moved into this apartment 7 years ago, we had a hard time going to sleep because it was so quiet. For many years, we lived in Midtown Manhattan, then for our last few months in NYC, we were on the Upper East Side, very close to Memorial Sloan Kettering and another hospital whose name escapes me. We were so used to the ambulances the clanking of trashcans the fire trucks the police cars and pointlessly loud and yelling people that for our first few nights in İstanbul, we were surprised to hear boat horns in the mist and stray cats and seagulls, whereas our mornings were filled with birds chirping and freshly cut grass.

The "ful" flowers in the garden smells sickly sweet in May and when we wind is blowing just right we even feel the salt from the sea just a few blocks away.

It's hard to even imagine moving. Though moving is the best way to get rid of stuff. My next project: clean the storage in the garage and give everything away so there'll be space for the bikes.

ps.; Karaoke night was awesome.

Zymzym Potter

2008-05-29T00:05:00.001+02:00

I must be doing something right:

I know how you feel.

2008-05-28T23:52:00.003+02:00

Tunca, I know how you feel.
I try to tell you that I, too, sometimes feel left out.
That I, too, want to do things that I am not capable of.
I want to run faster, and hit a soccer ball with decent accuracy. I want to climb high and be the one picked first for a team.
I am really, truly sorry that I cannot make you feel better about it, though. There will always be such sucky times and you probably will be mad at me for telling you so.
One thing I can tell you for sure is if you insist on playing soccer with 6th graders, I just cannot watch you get kicked in the shins or get smashed in the head with the ball travelling 60mph. I simply will not watch anymore. So there.

Broken

2008-05-21T00:21:00.002+02:00

I am getting better at the wheel. Really.

This can happen when you're trying to trim, though:
I just want to cry.

Keeping Busy

2008-05-21T00:07:00.003+02:00

There are days when I think to myself "all I want to do is sit in front of the TV and watch reruns of EL Raymond." Really. I love that show. And those are the days when I barely have time to use the bathroom.

Take this past Sunday. Here's what happened:
-Take Arda to basketball practice (Burak takes Tunca to Freedom Park, at the same time)
- Go to a birthday party for Arda's friend from basketball team
- Meet relatives (waiting in front of our house for us to arrive because we had to watch the birthday kid blow the candles)
- Leave an hour later to another friend's house
- Ditch another friend whom we had promised to meet at the beach in the afternoon because of the traffic (and, they served us mini quiches and whiskey and wine and cheese platters - who could leave that?)
- Arrive home with two very hungry and dirty kids after driving in the usual Sunday evening traffic which makes a 10 minute drive into an hours drive.
- Feed, wash and put the kids to bed.
- Collapse after watching the last two episodes of Lost. What is the deal with Jack's dad by the way?

Fun fun fun.

My brother says my blog is pointless and not very informative. Here's what you should learn from this post: we have really cool friends who serve us whiskey, traffic in İstanbul sucks so don't go out unless you have to, and it's rude to invite people over and have them wait for you to arrive at your home. And make your beds in the mornings. Yes.

Random Photos

2008-05-13T23:46:00.007+02:00

I really like what Wendolonia posts in her blog sometimes - daily pictures with just a few words...

I was just thinking that I am neither that talented enough to take nice photos nor that organized to carry a camera with me when I realized, I actually do have a ton of photos on my cell phone. The quality is terrible, but they are glimpses into my daily life - no special occasions, just moments I thought should be captured (oh the cliche is killing me!) somehow.
This is testament to one of the reasons why I truly love Arda's school. After having shoveled the minuscule amount of snow we received in February, the children were allowed to go out and walk like penguins on the little ridge! I was in a Parent - Family Association meeting, and first thought that the teachers would just ask the kids to get back inside, or to the back yard which is bigger, has acres of playgrounds, soccer fields etc. (and because this is the front yard and they're only allowed here for ceremonies).

Yet the few teachers you see in that photo were actually helping the kids climb the snow, and joyfully watching them have genuine fun. The one with the beige jacket is Arda.
This is my father and uncle leading my grandmother to one of many tests she had to go through in the hospital. She is holding onto both their arms, probably not unlike 50+ years ago, yet this time, they're the ones leading her and supporting her and explaining to her things she does not want to understand.

Off to a Mediocre Start

2008-05-13T23:10:00.002+02:00

For those of you wondering how my experiments with the wheel is going, I will simply post the following photo:
Lots of re-kneading. Lots of plates, as well.

Mother's Day, Italian style, during Formula 1

2008-05-13T22:52:00.004+02:00

Mother's Day came and went fabulously. The "new" tradition for the past few years have been to gather all the family in my sister-in-law Zeynep's mom's house in Sapanca, have lunch and just hang out. This year, there were 24 of us.

Here's the list of who's who:
My family (4)
My brother's family (3)
My parents (2)
Hubby's parents (2)
My uncle (1)
SIL's parents (2)
SIL's brother's family (3)
SIL's SIL's sister's family (3)
SIL's SIL's dad (1) (her mom passed away a few years ago)
Both my grandmothers (2)
One grandmother's caretaker/companion (1)

The lunch was wonderful, activities included eating a lot, then eating more, and after dessert, eating more. The children played soccer in the nearby field while adventurous adults made attempts to catch a frisbee in between 8 courses of salads, appetizers, meat, more meat, more meat, even more meat, fried zucchini and calamari .

Highlights of the day included getting stuck in traffic for hours because some smart ass thought that Mother's Day would be the greatest time to schedule a Formula 1 race in Istanbul, because, you know, all Turkish mothers would like a gift of a golden pass for Formula 1. I actually might have enjoyed it, come to think of it.

The necklace that Arda had made when he was in preschool 3 years ago now has a matching twin, made by Tunca, but this new one has feathers. "Feathers. Like bird feathers. But we didn't pluck them off birds. Teachers have to do that on their own."

I'm waiting for my brother to upload his pictures to .mac (my new favorite these days) so he can show off his new camera - more pictures to come.

The New Favorite Gift of ALL Times!

2008-05-09T00:10:00.005+02:00

Remember I wrote about the mashed potato device my husband got me as a gift?

First of all, my husband corrects, that wasn't a Valentine's Day gift, but Mother's Day gift. Plus, it was supposed to be from the kids, and he just helped pick it. So I stand corrected.

I don't think my "gift" post had that much to do with this years incredible surprise. I am the proud owner of a Shimpo Whisper T pottery wheel now! Well, I went and bought it second hand myself but DH was the one who said "just go and get one if that's what's going to make you happy and don't worry about where we would put it, you can bring it to my office."
I think that is one of the most selfless acts I have seen him perform. You see, he works alone, as a consultant, is meticulously neat, plus enjoys (and needs) solitude to do stuff involving metals of some sort. Non-Ferrous ones. But now there will also be ferrous ones. Or something like that. Anyways, it is complicated and that's why I think he needs silence.

I always thought that his office was the one place he could escape to without my constant nagging, relentless questions, and constant need for attention. He actually gave that up so a) he can be with me more and b) so I can be happier.

So hunny, if you're reading this, the next years "best gift ever received" post on the Parent Bloggers Network will be something like this:

My husband got me the best gift I ever received.

I can hear you snickering about the followin, and I shall answer accordingly. I can be proper when I have to.

Comment1: knowing you, you will be too damn messy and he will kick you out in a matter of days.
Answer1: That's what my grandmother said when I was getting married, yet 14 years later, he sill hasn't. And you should see me with the mop. Though he did stare a bit at the mud on the ceiling. I have no idea how it got there. Really.

Comment2: knowing you, you will talk so much that he won't be able to concentrate on his work and he will kick you out in a matter of days. Nagger.
Answer2: First of all, see answer1, part 1 re. marriage and my grandmother. Second of all, potters don't talk much. They're much too busy trying to center a lump of mud.

Comment3: knowing you, you will get tired of the whole pottery thing in a matter of weeks and he will kick you out of the house for making him spend all that money. You monkey. Lazy monkey.
Answer3: Enough with the insults. Get a grip. I have been wheel throwing since 11th grade and I never, ever can think of anything more wondrous, more relaxing and more creative than that. It will help with my constant hiatus of creative constipation and I get to stop spending my time sleeping, playing guitar hero and other wasteful activities like shoe shopping. No erase that. Shoe shopping must go on. But less.

Comment4: you suck at the wheel.
Answer4: Yes. I know I am not that good at the wheel. But that's only because I haven't had the chance to practice. You shall see pictures of my creations soon. And that'll spice up this blog. So shut up. And really, enough with the insults.

Sing a Song

2008-05-04T00:45:00.004+02:00

I have truly reached the epitome of my directing skills.

Halfway through watching home videos of Arda & Tunca taken since 2002, I realized that in EVERY SINGLE one that I am taking, I ask the either one, or both the boys to sing a song. Every one. Birthdays, baths, playing, reading, watching a movie.. Whatever the occasion, at some point during the video, I tell 'em "sing a song now."

And they both immediately start singing gibberish songs mostly polluted with words like pee, poop, bum, and boobies.

What's the message here?

When I figure out a way to compress the videos, I will post a few.

Definitely the one that has Tunca simultaneously sitting on, and then bursting a balloon, and the expression on his face and Burak and I literally rolling on the floor laughing.

MayDay Continued

2008-05-01T18:54:00.004+02:00

The day is almost over.

This photo sums it all up.
No, that is not blood. They squirted red colored water from panzers (armored artillery vehicles) to the crowd so they could later arrest them easily:

I spent the day nearby with friends.

Here's Taksim, totally deserted except for cops because of the blockades:
All photos by DHA & Milliyet.

MayDay

2008-04-30T23:55:00.002+02:00

Today is a day of celebrating. With flags, singing and walking hand in hand.

I wish I could tell my children that they do not need to fear tomorrow, that we could go out and celebrate together. Yet, they will go to school tomorrow, their school bus avoiding "trouble" spots, and I will not drive anywhere.

Happy International Workers Day to all. Dad, can you be a guest writer and tell us about that fateful day in 1977?

How ironic and hypocritical of me, right? At least my heart is in the right place.

And here's my dad's story, as posted on the comments section, but I will paste it here as well:

Dad, as guest writer, remembers May Day 1977:

We marched from Dolmabahce to Taksim under the banner of University Teachers' Association. Although I was a member of the Turkish Workers' Party, we had been asked to join our professional associations during the march. When we arrived at Taksim Square there was already more than 100,000 people there; mostly workers and university students. More people marched in until there was hardly any space left.

It was the second "legal" celebration of May Day since the early 1930's. We were very happy, chanting slogans, singing, etc. At about 4 PM, when that enormous crowd started to disperse, we heard gunshots and all hell broke loose. (Later it was claimed, but never proved, that the shots were fired from the 6th floor of Hotel Intercontinental ).

Inci and I were caught in the middle of the gunfire. I could see bullets hitting the ground next to our feet. Inci was so petrified with terror that she could hardly move. I realized that if we could not get out of the target area we would be shot soon. I pushed her towards the iron fence of the park in the middle of the square. She didn't move, she was in shock. I lifted her and jumped over the fence. I put her down and covered her body with mine. I could still see the bullets hitting people right and left. 10 meters away, a police panzer ran over a woman and I saw her bones sticking up from her wounds where the vehicle's tires passed. We stayed there about 20 minutes until the gunfire stopped then crawled away to the relative safety of a building's entrance. We took the late night train to Ankara. Inci was still in shock.

37 people were killed that day. We remember them as victims of a senseless and cruel plot to subdue the working people of our country.

May 1, 2008 8:47 PM

Home Thumb.

2008-04-28T00:38:00.005+02:00

You know people who have "green thumbs?" Those who make every plant they touch flourish and bloom no matter the season? I have friends who have "home" thumbs. I call them at any given day and they tell me things like "oh, I was just putting glitter on these candles that I just made" or "well, the curtains were getting dull so I am sewing some beads in them."

I just want to hang up and cry.

The other day, worried that I am still very very unhappy for some reason, Burak was trying to cheer me up while providing feedback and some mentoring on what I should "do." Like, a career. Or a hobby. Anything to keep the woman from just spending money! I am 34 and if I am still wondering what I'm going to be when I grow up (!) something has gone awry.

I am going to tie these two very distinct thoughts together at some point. Really.

Anyways, as I was telling Burak how I love just sitting on the wheel, feeling the mud take shape beneath my fingers in that slimy yet satisfying (ok, who know where that line's from?) and immensely quenching way, he asked me whether I was any good at it.

The reason why I don't bring my beautiful pots and plates and vases and bowls home, the reason why often I don't even fire them, is because I believe that I really am not that good at it. I probably could be. Maybe. Someday. But never good enough to be able to say "well, I've grown up and I'm a potter now." I can spend hours just sitting on the wheel, not even making a shape, just watching and feeling the mud.

Anyways. Back to friends with home thumbs. I wish I could be like that. Take a project from my many bookmarked home & design blogs and ideas and follow through and the next time my home thumbed friend calls, I can tell her, "well the bedspreads were boring so I am weaving new ones." Ha! At your face! (I'm just jealous, that's all).

Take quilting for example. The blocks and the patterns have names, there is a whole industry on quilt making. What makes a simple quilt art? (Oooh the blog is getting more intellectual by the minute - what happened to the posts where I wrote about who pooped green today?).

If I were to make a quilt, I would want it to look like Dorothy Caldwell's:
The utilitarian side of anything is simple - what makes her quilts art is the nonconformist way of expressing the story while leaving you with awe (and the 10,000$ price tag).

Out with the wheel, come to mama needles and sewing machines! I'm getting me a new hobby!

Breaking All The Rules

2008-04-24T22:40:00.002+02:00

As I was reading CoolBroad's "10 Things Not to talk about at a cocktail party " I realized I have basically broke all the rules while we were having dinner with some friends last night. Wonder whether they'll ever call again!

Politics; When a friend spoke of checking the eyesight of a famous politician, I immediately had to say "you should have punched him in the eye right there." Hm.
Religion; "I had not one way of explaining to my child what my religion was, I only said to him that he will figure that out for himself and I'd be more than happy to provide him with necessary information during the process. When he's older, like, 13."
How gifted and talented your kid is; OK guilty as charged - "why, he DID learn how to ride the bike in just a day." Extra credit: "the guitar lessons have worked wonders on him - he can strum to tunes now." Liar. Bad lying mama!
How much you just paid for something; "The new bike? We paid x liras." Yours was?" We paid 6 times as much. But I sorta eased out of the situation by stating that ours also flies. Eeek.
Someone else; I think I passed on that. One point for the good etiquette.
Taxes and Death; Death was talked about. I didn't bring it up but told of how the kids' school handled the death of a student.
Your kids (excessively); But that's what we have in common!
Your pets (excessively); Passed on that as well. Though the lobster issue did come up once.
Your uber-cool job (excessively); Ha! I can never ever talk about that because as you all know, I don't have a job. If mothering counts, take off the points my friend!
How much you dislike something; Had to talk about my (non) experiences with cooking and being a "housewife" in general. That's a part of my character. No points deducted (in my opinion).

Happy Earth Day.

2008-04-22T23:34:00.003+02:00

Tomorrow is National Children's Day in Turkey.

Today is Earth Day. Not in Turkey. At least I don't think so.

So, in honor of earth day, I decided to write all the "green" things we do around our home, thanks to last week's "hump day" suggestion by Julie Pippert.

We don't recycle. There are people who sort the trash out in big containers, take out the recyclable stuff and sell them, so no need for that. I don't want to hamper someone else's livelihood. This is not my usual "I am shallow" confession, I truly believe that there is an actual market for container pickers. We do have a recycle bin a few blocks from where we live for glass and plastic containers, and I have been planning on using that for some time now. It could be a good plan to follow weekly, and the boys would learn to be responsible for the environment, yes. I know my brother recycles, I have no idea how, but I shall ask. We used to when we lived in the US, and we meticulously followed the green trash bag - red trash bag - or whatever color trash bag sorting rules. There is no such thing here in İstanbul. People actually hurl their trash from balconies in my apartment. Really. I have nice memories of picking fights with them.

We turn off the lights when not in use, does that count?

We turn off the faucets when brushing teeth, and conserve water by using well (you know, well?) water for the lawn (which is littered with my obnoxious neighbors' trash anyways). Oh, and I haven't gotten the car washed in 11 months. That's a bit of laziness as well. But more to conserve water.

What else.

We encourage the boys to paint on the back of used papers and printouts (they usually do not mind). Our fridge and washing machine are energy efficient (though I do not whether that means I pay less for electricity or.. or what?). We "air dry" our laundry. We don't throw bottles in the ocean (believe me, take a walk by the seaside where I live, and you are bound to run into a minimum of 5 people chucking beer/water/soda bottles in the water - we try not to shoot them with bb guns).

We support TEMA - The Turkish Foundation for Combating Soil Erosion, for Reforestation and the Protection of Natural Habitats (my goodness that took forever to type!) by planting trees instead of sending holiday gifts to business associates (I know, not very original, but TLs spent for a good cause).

Short list. But at least not as puny as I thought it would be.

Merry National Children's Day. And a happy Earth Day as well.

Edit: After reading "50 Ways to Help the Planet" I realized we do 34 of the 50 suggestions. Yey.

Once Upon a Time in New York

2008-04-22T22:27:00.004+02:00

I must have written about New York. I should have.

While cruising, from page to page, I came across Bryant Park's website tonight. The same park where my first son went to for his first "outing" when he was 6 days old and took his first steps when he was 11 months old. The same park we listened to a good friend of ours play Paganini's Variations, in shorts, just a few days before his debut at the New York Philharmonic, then a few months later, listened to Sarah MacLaughlin rehearse the night before her concert, just for us. The same park that I walked through at all hours of the night coming home from the Grace Building (because I worked right across the street from where I lived, you don't get that lucky anywhere in the world). The same park with incredible views from our first -and only- apartment we owned.

See where it says 32 West 40th Street? That's the Engineer's Building. That's where we used to live.
I miss New York so much sometimes, especially days like these when I struggle to find an entertaining, informative, and logistically not impossible activity for the children.
Or days when I seem to search and search for that perfect little something and I am sure it must exist in New York, and yes, maybe it is here in İstanbul as well but traffic, chaos or simply faith forbids me to find it (yes, we do finally have Manolo here, and no, that's not what I'm talking about).

I will post about the incredible stuff we do here in Istanbul as well - we play tourist a lot, and enjoy Istanbul to its fullest extent. Just don't make us drive too much.

Mother of all gifts.

2008-04-18T23:28:00.005+02:00

-pre post warning - honey, if you're reading this, please understand that I had to write about it. I know that you will understand. You see, there's a $250 gift certificate for a spa (well, in the US, but you know I will travel back some time in the next decade) and you could count that as your next Valentines Day gift. So here it goes.

The year was 2003, probably the first week of February. I was 7+ months pregnant to Tunca and my sweet husband said that he would take Arda out so I could take a nap. I instantly guessed that this was just one of his devilishly smart ways of saying "Valentines Day is near, I didn't get anything for you, even though you always say that you don't want anything you'll be upset if I don't get you a gift, so I should go." There was a nap on the line, and I never say no to naps. Ever.

Both came back a few hours later snickering like the little children they are, "hid" some stuff in the hallway closet and I pretended not to notice.

Now in our house, hubby and I usually decide on something "big" we want, and combine birthdays, Valentines, new years and what have you presents into this "one" gift (my beloved past Mac Powerbooks, my new IMac, my IPod, our DVD player, the camera that takes all these photos you see on this blog have all accumulated over the years as our combined gifts to each other). But we also buy something small, like a card or a pen, or socks (yep, that's my terrible gift) as well to commemorate the day.

So Valentines Day comes and Arda (who was almost 3 then) is so excited about this great gift that they bought together with his dad.

A perfectly wrapped present.
Those of you who know me should be falling off their chairs right now because I don't cook.

The thing actually comes in very handy and I often find myself saying "this is the best gift ever" and I don't mean sarcastically. I do on occasion use it for mashed potatoes, but more often for guacamole (hurray for guacamole! I love guacamole!!) and making hair to the kids' PlayDough creations. And honey, I love you. Told you in my previous post that I was feeling sentimental. Can't even write a bad gift post.

- mid post warning, mom, please read what I wrote for hubby, and we can share the certificate if I win it -

Another wonderful gift I got was from my dear mom. It was my 16th birthday, the first one I was celebrating without my parents since I was living in San Diego as an exchange student. Phone calls were very expensive then, and usually we wrote actual letters to each other. A few days before my birthday, I received a letter from my mom. Here it goes.

"Dear Zeynep,
Happy birthday! We miss you very much. Even though I never wanted to give birth to you, you have always brought joy to my life and I am so glad I did now. Love, mom."

What? WHAT?

I understand now. I was pretty shocked when I first read it, but I understand, mom. Really. It must have been so hard for you with my brother living so far from you, and your health, and your financial situation, and all the changes in your life, I understand how a second child must have scared you s*itless. What counts is what you did after I was born - be the incredible mom, the super -uber- mom who worked unbelievable hours to make ends meet, who spent every second of her spare time with me and my brother, who put curlers in my hair when I felt down and made me giggle, whom all my friends said "I wish my mom was like that," who always always supported me in everything I wanted to do even though she knew it wasn't good for me, simply because it was my choice and she is the kind of woman who respects her children...

And every chance you get, mom, you tell me how happy you are that I was born. That's what counts.

Upon closing, I would like to mention my sister in law's ill timed present (a week before Mother's day, I had no children then) - a wonderful cellulite cream as a runner up. But she made up for more than that with all the wonderful purses she gave me through the years, as well as the gorgeous heart shaped gold pendant she got me the next year as a soon-to-be-mom present. Plus the most perfect black boots she got me this year, just because she likes me.

PBN hand in hand with Get in Her Head had this wonderful idea of having all interested write their own "gifts gone bad-perfect gifts" blog entry. Get in Her Head might just be my new favorite site, soon. If only I could get hubby to read it, of course.

My babies.

2008-04-17T22:37:00.004+02:00

These pictures came just at the right time for my sentimentality:

Call me!

2008-04-16T21:15:00.002+02:00

If I were to have a phone like this, my kids would stop using speed dial to call their dads and make him bring all kinds of junk home because they would have no clue as to how to dial the darn thing.

And it looks so cute.

Twisted Love.

2008-04-16T16:14:00.002+02:00

I went to get gas today and on the way this song was playing. The attendants looked at me very strange when I didn't put the windows or turn the music down when I pulled up because I did not want to miss a word of the lyrics.

I swear this will be the first song I sing in karaoke night. Anyone need a alto soloist for a rock band who does covers etc? Lemme know.

This takes either a very sick understanding (and experience) of love or true genius. Talk amongst yourselves now and let me be.

Random "I feel strange" entry.

2008-04-15T20:49:00.003+02:00

So there are times when people tell me that I must be depressed. That I look depressed.(They're all weird and should go and mind their own business ha!). I am the kind of person you hardly see sulking. Or look depressed. I may be depressed, but won't let on, even to myself. I'm more like the "sweep the stuff under the carpet" type. In my everyday life as well. One doomed Friday night I found a bunch of raisins stuck under the carpet (Arda's bidding, Tunca's action, I later found out), apparently, three months after the act. And, as I wrote in previous entries, I am lazy and shallow so I let them be until Monday when the maid would be in.

In this book that I am reading, the main character describes her depression as not the "blues" but the yellows - a never ending hiatus of piss. It seems quite a strange way to express depression, but come to think of it, the mellow temperance, the lukewarm feeling and the hazy outlook is quite fitting.

I think of my depression to be transparent, like saran wrap (hmm, here's something else to analyze my dear shrink - first the Bounty then the saran wrap, there must be something lurking in that weird subconscious of mine - let the housewife out of her chains for gods sake!). I tend to get wrapped in it (oh the irony) but the depression in itself is expertly crafted because -yes- it has these handy little perforations and even though I may look like those securely and tightly wrapped sandwiches they sell in cafes, the pickle or the tomato or the mayo is just waiting for the right moment to burst out. Thanks to the perforations. So just like I get distracted from everything else, I am too scatterbrained to even get truly depressed. (Don't make me eat my words, fate, please).

Analyze that for me please.

Anyways, my shrink (whom I haven't seen in over three years but still really respect and even like) had said that during the construction of my character the foundation was placed pretty well, so slight tremors like 4.5 earthquakes would not knock me down but a stronger one might do enough damage to require renovation. Knock on wood for no earthquakes anytime soon.

The bugs have gone.

2008-04-15T01:15:00.002+02:00

I forgot to mention that the recent additions to our ever lasting list of aquarium pets are with us no more. I am glad we never named them.

Burak thinks they passed away from grief over our leaving them behind to go on vacation. The sentimental guy that he is.

THE vacation.

2008-04-11T17:48:00.012+02:00

Well, it was an interesting one.

It started out with my brother calling and saying both he and my nephew were sick, so they would probably arrive two days later. Then our flight was delayed for more than two hours in the shittiest airport seen on the face of the earth. Then we arrived to NOT drizzling, but pouring rain, at the hotel, exhausted, and found out the rooms we requested right in front of the playground were being renovated and we were to stay somewhere else in the village... All this aside, we got our towels, bathing suits and walked under pouring rain to the enclosed pool - with every step we got closer, Burak said he had a bad feeling and guess what - NO POOL! Well, the pool was there but the cover ceiling thingy flew off in a storm four months ago and they never got to fix it and yes, forgot to mention it.

So here we were in pouring rain, with stupid towels in our hands and our bathing suits underneath. Instead of the pool we decided to have lunch and take pictures while we looked for a- another hotel with an indoor pool, or b- a flight back home!

Check out the storm outside!

The kids refused both ideas vehemently, so we decided to ask the reception to send us a golf cart to take us to the pool in the spa. Now this is a very hoity toidy spa that has a nice indoor pool, lots massage and facial/treatment rooms, a big Turkish bath, saunas, jacuzzis and what have you. And you're supposed to be quiet there. Ha ha good luck with that one with my children! Might as well ask them to read Peace and War (edit - thanks dad, see how well read I am? War and Peace). From memory.

Upon entering, we asked whether we would disturb anyone (usually, no children under 18 allowed, and that's not because of naked people walking around) but they assured us that since the other pool was closed we were more than welcome to use this one and no one would mind.

So our adventure began, and the kids were actually very quiet (compared to their usual decibels). Oh, they were also the only children in the whole hotel anyways.

The next day was the same, lots of rain, lots of time alternating between the pool, the jacuzzi, the hamam, but they opened the mini club for the kids and they made t-shirts, painted and played mini golf and board games with Tanja, a very nice Belgian woman who spoke English as well as a little bit of Turkish.

Let there be sunshine. Now! Please!

Tunca had various mishaps, as did Arda, lots of falling, getting muddy, splinters etc but we were able to only picture Tunca's wonderful fall into a pool of mud after a jet speed slide ride, being the wonderful parents we are. I still can not stop laughing. We should have taped it.

The next two days were wonderful and sunny, and we even got to make dams (no, my children are truly realistic and do not build castles, signed, sanctimommy) in the sand.

My brother and his son Ali joined us on Monday and as my brother put it, the whole vacation was like a three day (five for us) birthday party for the kids - they have a great time and you just sit around being bored. I actually had a very relaxing time, even finished a whole book, but my sun allergies did not help at all, have always been very adamant about making me miserable. But such is life.

New family members.

2008-04-04T17:51:00.008+02:00

I was reading Peppa Studio's blog when I realized I haven't introduced our newest members to the family.

They have been with us for about two weeks now, and are not named yet (for fear they would pass away in a hurry) but here they are:
I don't exactly know what they are, mini lobsters? There also was a mussel - you can see it in the photo above - but the babies ate that. So sweet. They keep shedding their whole skins (crusts?) and eating then, too. They are growing nice and plump. If I were a lobster person, they probably would look yummy in a few months... Thank goodness I don't eat anything that comes out of the water. I wish we had a dog.

We are going to Bodrum for a short vacation, so I will not be updating until next week. The boys are very excited, but my brother and his son Ali are sick and will only be joining for three days so I'm a bit bummed about that. Here are a few pictures from previous years:
I don't know what's with my mouth in that last one - I may be eating something. These are probably from 2005. We always go to SeaGarden Hapimag for spring break - no one's there, prices are low and Bodrum is greener than ever this season.