Double Digits in Doha

Today is our first little travelers birthday. It's a big one. She's been speaking about and waiting for "double digits" with the excitement that only a nine year old would understand.  Remember when you were desperate to get older?

When my first little traveler was 11 days old she set off from Australia for her first journey to Jakarta (via Singapore). G and I had been living in Jakarta for about 5 months before she was born so we were very excited about getting her to our "home". When we landed in Singapore for a quick stopover I began what would soon become a regular occurrence in my life, searching airport lounges for a place to change a baby. Still operating as a novice I gingerly removed her clothes and slowly began what my father refers to as a "greese and oil change". As I finished getting my little traveler dressed and stood marveling at what I considered to be the most spectacular looking child I had ever laid eyes on a well dressed woman with a very kind face entered the room. She said all the things we love to hear as new parents, compliment, compliment, compliment and then with a tiny hint of sadness she said something that has really stayed with me "treasure every day with your little girl, my baby is 21". I then saw a little tear in her eye and naturally being post natal I immediately joined her.

Fast forward to this morning. I awoke to find three men in my bed (be careful what you wish for). Okay, so maybe it was one man and 2 boys. As number 2 came running in to the bedroom and chorused "guess whose birthday it is!" Number 1 appeared at the door, all arms and legs with a cheeky sheepish grin. After the familiar ritual of presents and birthday breakfast we load up the car with the obligatory 562 cupcakes for the class, you know, the ones for the class, the teacher, the friends of friends and "don't forget the music teacher because she asked for one yesterday"!

We talk in the car about previous birthdays, she wants the details of the first one in Indonesia, the second in Langkowi. She remembers bits of the 3rd one in Tripoli and sharing it with her friend Elizabeth. We talk about rock climbing, skating and bowling parties in Canada and last years pool party in Houston. Jokes are made at my expense on the bog standard but much required chocolate love heart cake with smarties around it that I make on each and every birthday. I grin to myself in the front seat and make an offer to stop making it and there is a resounding NOOOOOO!

As the four little travelers and I wander in to the school yard with our mountain of supplies we hear across the car park "Happy Birthday Lizzie" and all four of my little travelers immediately smile and bask in being part of the birthday entourage. When we arrive at her classroom door she is presented with cards from her new friends and birthday hugs and congratulations, the boys stand around trying to look as aloof as possible and the girls giggle and admire her new birthday clothes. It's all so different than kindergarten and the early school years. When you're 10, you're discussing itouch versus ipod, psp's, play stations and x box. Gone are the days of barbies and transformers.

We do the daily hug goodbye after she's loaded her backpack in to her locker and I've once again shrieked at the mess, I give her a tight squeeze and she says rather quickly "okay Mum, you can go now", we both laugh. When I look at her face I can see that little baby at the airport and I can picture the woman's face and I reckon I've done exactly as I was told. I'm treasuring it.

P.S.  Can you please note that all cupcake credit needs to go to G, he was the one who was up late last night with a spatula and a mountain of patty pans. I feel it may be in my best interests to mention it.

Extreme weather

The month of May in Doha means we are now technically in Spring.  Summer begins around the middle of June. So, having said that,  the weather here this week has been around 42 degrees all week, (for my North American friends thats about 107). Yes, that's right, 42......all week, and they tell me it's only the beginning. I've heard from the locals that it doesn't get "really" hot until July, and in August once it gets to 50 you just stop looking at the temperature as it all becomes irrelevant, it's just hot. Many times this week I have thought back to the day G and I were married in my hometown, it was a delightful 46 degrees with what we call a hot north wind. Hmmm sounds romantic doesn't it. I remember heading to the hairdressers that morning and having at least 5 locals ask me with a grin "hot enough for ya?".

The thing about being an expat is you have to always be open to the locals wanting to completely take the mickey out of you regarding the weather. Canada comes to mind when I think about having absolutely no idea what I was in for. When meeting anyone in Calgary, after establishing where we were from, the first question was always "have you been through a winter here yet?" This is when Canadians will do either of two things, smirk knowingly and wish you the best of luck or feel sorry for you and decide to educate you on just how freaking cold you are about to be.

What has been interesting so far is the similarities of opposing extremes of living just beside the Rocky's of Canada or the Deserts of Qatar. In Canada I complained about the hot water taking so long to get hot (icy cold water from the taps) and in Qatar I no longer have a need for hot water as the cold tap is warm enough on it's own. In Canada we left our cars running while we raced in to the store  in fear of our engines freezing, in Qatar we leave it running in fear of the contents our cars exploding in the heat.

Lessons already learnt, do no leave your lipstick in the car unless you would like to drink it. Do not attempt to walk the beagle in the middle of the day unless you plan to carry it home. Do not tell a local  "it's really starting to get hot" unless you wish to be ridiculed. HOT?! Ha! This isn't hot?!

Of course the little travelers are oblivious.  The little travelers appear to be completely weather resistant. I have watched them swim in lakes that were recently frozen, ski in minus 25 temperatures for hours and complete snow rolls after getting out of the hot tub without the assistance of 20 beers (something we adults usually need in preparation for the event).

On Friday afternoon, I watched the little travelers bounce in a bouncy castle for about two hours, it was around 43 degrees. Being the stella mother that I am, every fifteen minutes or so I would stick my head out of the air conditioned house with a Corona in my hand and enquire about their well being. Before you judge, they were wearing sun screen!

I look forward to the experience of desert temperatures and learning more horror stories of the heat and once I've been here for awhile I just can't wait to ask a sweltering newcomer "hot enough for ya?"

What day is it?

There are some things that stay the same no matter where you live. Last year for Mothers Day we were in Houston. The little travelers presented me home made cards with adorable spelling errors and scratchy handwriting. Songs were sang, poems were written and number 3 came back from a shopping expedition with his father and said "it's a secret, we got you a present, but don't tell anyone, it's on top of Dad's cupboard".


This year for Mothers Day I was once again presented with beautiful home made cards, this time there were less spelling errors and the writing was clearer and more legible. It was number 4's time this year to announce randomly at the dinner table last night in a high and excitable tone "we got you a box of chocolates, it's a secret, it's in Dad's cupboard".


What is different this year though is that Sunday is a work day. I think I've mentioned before that Sunday is the beginning of the work week in Qatar and that our weekend falls on Friday/Saturday. Friday is to a muslim what Sunday is to a Christian so it only makes logical sense that Friday be on a weekend. I personally love having Friday's off. What can be confusing though is the sudden change in vocabulary. No longer can you "thank god it's Friday", sing along to "Just another Manic Monday", go for a "Sunday drive" or have "a lazy Sunday afternoon". 


This being the case means that Mothers Day Sunday has a whole different feel. This morning there was no lazy lie in, no cheeky breakfast in bed or time for a snuggle (with either G or the little travelers). Although I'm sure G would beg to differ on that.


This morning involved the usual chaos. From the moment the little travelers eyes open they are in negotiation mode.  We negotiate getting out of bed, "appropriate" clothing, what to eat for breakfast, what goes in the lunch box. Clothes of different descriptions make their way down the stairs and get sent back up to try again. "Those shorts are a size 3 and you are now 9 years old", "no you can't wear your spiderman suit to school". Lies are told and familiar and ridiculous responses are made "I did brush my teeth, smell my breath"....."then why is your toothbrush dry?"  "because I only used toothpaste, not water". All of this is done in fast motion, as the beagle flies through the air to abscond with another piece of toast I can hear the Benny Hill music playing in the background. I ask questions I never thought I would. "Did you wipe your bottom?" "Why can't I see any toilet paper then?" "Please go and wipe you bottom and FLUSH!" 


As we race out to the car with backpacks being zipped and water bottles leaking I am reminded of a youtube clip I was sent a few years ago. I wish I was cool enough to say that none of the song applied to me. Enjoy!


'William Tell Overture' Mom


Happy Mothers Day.