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Tonight I gave Lily a pink bracelet with little silver studs entwined as a reward for not throwing up in the car for five days in a row. We have also done stickers and made a rewards chart that is posted on her wall because I want to honor her process in every way that I can. For nearly two weeks, Lily would vomit in the car somewhere en route from our house to her primary school in St.Michael, a thirty minute drive on good days, an eternity on the bad ones. And there had been plenty of bad ones due to a traffic detour set up on the bumpy, semi-paved roads of Bridgetown for the past few weeks.
I did consider car sickness and searched the house frantically for the motion sickness bracelets I wore while pregnant with Virginie who had me spinning like I was on a dingy in the middle of the ocean in a hurricane, but to no avail. I gave her Gravol, a motion-sickness medication before we left for school, but got concerned that she would have to take it indefinitely. Finally, we went to the doctor to have her ears checked because I was sure that either her equilibrium was off, that her not eating enough, or eating too much, or drinking too much citrus on an empty stomach (a glass of OJ), or inner ear damage, was the culprit. But as I kept talking to the doctor I realized that the vomiting episodes happened only in the morning, never in the afternoon. That we never had the problem on weekends or if someone else besides her loving parents was taking her to school. I had thought perhaps I should not go on the school run, as maybe I was the catalyst for the show, Mommy always being the best audience for illness or freak out or loud singing, burping, farting. But she'd begged me to come with her every morning and I liked the idea of the family going together in support of Lily, however she needed it.
Lily was in completely good physical health, but emotionally, mentally, she was feeling down. It seems that, though she loves school, she thought that when she was dropped off, Virginie and I were at home sealing the deal on being best friends in the world and that she, Lily, was being left out completely. When the attention was sent back in her direction, via the no throw up countdown, with the potential for prizes and gifts if all was well played, she stopped. For the last five morning school runs there has been no vomit. No Mommy jumping over her seat to grab the hurl sack and pin it under her neck. No more rides in ratty t-shirts to prevent her uniform from getting stained.
When I gave her the bracelet tonight, wrapped in pink tissue paper and sealed with a sticker, her eyes lit up. She was so excited that I had remembered and honored my promise. As her little fingers peeled back the paper and she saw the bracelet, she smiled so wide and deliciously. A little something special. Just for her. Opened in front of Virginie who exclaimed, "Oh Mimi (the name she calls Lily)!" She wore it to bed and curled her arms around it so as not to lose it and for a brief moment, maybe just even for tonight, Lily felt good and secure. I will keep trying.
(c) Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
Having grown up in the Northeastern United States (New Jersey and New York) and gone to undergrad and grad school in Boston no less, my expectations for Christmas and anything considered a "winter wonderland" are admittedly high. A "Winter Wonderland" conjures images of snowcapped everything with rolling hills of snow and candy canes with snow on top. Elves walking in the snow to and from Santa's workshop as reindeer practice their flying and landing in the SNOW for their special night, well really their ONLY night out, of the year. With my parents now residing in Florida and having had an occasional, OK, one Christmas, spent in Mexico, I do accept that snow does not have to be present for a wonderland to be created. But that snowless wonderland had better be damned good.
Alas, such was not the case this evening at the "Winter Wonderland" event at the Kensington Oval, a cricket stadium near Bridgetown, where magic and spectacle was to be the order of the evening. My expectations were not high. I hate to admit it, but I had little faith, but wanted Lily and her girlfriends with whom we'd made the journey, to feel the sense of Christmas and joy that I'd had as a kid. While I know it is impossible to compare the presentations of say, the Icecapades or Radio City Music Hall or one of the New York ballet company's Nutcracker, to any cultural event in a developing country, I was trying to remain open and leave my staggering expectations at the door. I did get a little nervous when no alcohol was available for consumption in a country where you can buy a beer or rum and Coke at the fast food joint, but I thought, hey, this is for the kids. I don't need no stinking alcohol! Right.
I cheered for a school choir who got the crowd in the mood with some holiday songs and really got into a steel band called Mosaic who seriously could have been the only act on the docket and it would have been enough for me. When the sun tucked itself in for a long night of sleep, the parade began. We started with a gingerbread house lit up like the best house on the block and a wee Hansel and Gretel walking along side it. Cute. I mean, nothing for me to write home about, but it was quite lovely for the kids. It took a really long time for the golf-cart driven float to make its way around the stadium and I started to wonder if it was just keeping Bajan time or where they just trying to get the crowd excited with a slow crawl. Dora and Diego came next and got the kiddies in the audience on their feet! People were cheering and screaming and running onto the field! Oh, OK, no security then, just an announcement to please return to their seats so that all could enjoy the parade.
Turns out there wasn't too much to the parade. Some characters from Nickelodeon, a black Santa (of course, he can be whatever you want him to be!), some elves and sexy cheerleaders. I said it. Sexy Caribbean cheerleaders at a kids' show. Who even knew there were cheerleaders in Barbados? What the heck do they usually cheer for? Tonight, it was for Santa and Diego. There was a little jumping up and some serious dance hall moves, but all in good fun, right? That's as far as we got. After the shabby little parade, a few musical acts took the stage one by one. Looking, at best, like hopeful recording acts at an industry event, they had even the locals screaming for Santa and trying to boo them off the stage. While I don't condone that sort of behavior (I can't handle American Idol reject shows and ice skaters falling because they have so much faith in themselves, even if we don't.), I could see the point. This was a childrens' show and I didn't see much else for the kids to see.
As we left the stadium, we saw throngs of audience members racing to their cars. Lily was none the wiser. She didn't even know there was more to see and enjoyed the characters in the parade, however paltry the offering. My dear friend Wendy and her family stayed to report that eventually, Dora returned to the stage. Stage. Envision the stage at your primary school sitting in the middle of a football field and that will provide you with the visuals. She sang a couple of songs and Diego dirty danced with a cheerleader. Wendy and family rolled out at about 8:30, nearly 5 hours after we'd arrived. She is a trooper and I thank her for staying so long to prove to me that I must seek my cultural events, if a Christmas Spectacular can be called such, elsewhere.
(I hope to have some pictures soon.) It seems that I psychically knew this would be rubbish and I left my camera at home for the first time in weeks. Apparently, with no lighting on the field, the only way to get a decent photo was if multiple flashes were going off at once. Brilliant.
(c) Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
So one week after breathing a sigh, however brief, in Florida, we are back in Barbados. Didier's allergies have rendered him, quite literally speechless, Lily continues to vomit in the car ride to school, and Virginie is suffering from some gastrointestinal issue that is truly causing me more stress than it is her. I am doing my best to prep us for the Christmas holiday, buying gifts for school teachers and assistants, for the gardening team, for the pool guy, for the garbage pick up men, for the cleaning lady and her crew, for our landlady and her husband, for Lily's friends and classmates, for Didier's team and Executive Committee, and eventually, for our actual families and close friends. I have 21 days.
We will, as last year, spend the holiday apart. The girls and I will travel again to Florida, yes, for one million dollars (done with the Dr. Evil pinky ponder to the mouth), and Didier will stay to cook, serve, and entertain the spoiled guests at his hotel. He will be so busy that on Christmas morning he will be on the beach at 6 am serving champagne to the hotel patrons while his wife and children open the gifts that Santa was so kind enough to leave with Grandma and Grandpa, in the living room of their home. We will SKYPE him to send our love and well wishes some time in the afternoon and then spend a week with my parents. In their home. Where I will be 17 again. Except this time with two children who are truly loved and adored when they are adorable but who need to go behind Door Number 2 when their childish personalities come out and they become "too much." I am working on centering myself now so when I go left of center, I remember where the middle is and don't bug out of my face too much. If we thought it were at all possible to stay and spend time together, we certainly would. But Didier's job demands too much of his time and attention during busy season and the girls would mourn his absence every hour.
This time of year has always been tough for me. I am a real melancholy baby, even though I am outwardly and quite truthfully at heart, very sunny. I am the light and the dark and this time of year reminds me just how much so. I love the time from Thanksgiving all the way to the new year. There is resolution, hope, promise for the new year. But there is also, the end. A reminder of what has passed and what will no longer be. I think in broad strokes at this time of year, so the minutiae gives way to the grander picture which is good. It doesn't help that my birthday falls right after the new year when most people are getting back into routine and the joys of the holiday season give way to real life.
Real life. At the end of the year means gifts, Christmas plays and shows and pageants, letters to Santa, a decorated tree at home, so Santa has a place to leave more gifts for the girls in Barbados and so that Papa will not feel left out of the spirit. Real life also means, celebrating our anniversary with whispers and quick moments of holding hands and packing. Real life means, carrying gifts bought in Florida and brought to Barbados over Thanksgiving, back to Florida because my brain was too tired to consider leaving them there. Real life means a Christmas alone with the girls and my parents when they should have their father there to celebrate too. Real life means turning 40 and then 41 at home with my parents. Real life means coming back to Barbados in time to get Lily sent off to the next term of school while poor Didier continues to do all he can at an understaffed, under-managed hotel.
But it also means planning, dreaming, starting afresh in my heart and mind. Because a new year brings with it the chance to do something completely different. As the new year starts, I don't write resolutions, but I gain resolve and promise myself to achieve something I thought I couldn't. I do it for myself and for the girls because as they see me do something they know I fear, it will give them the nerve to try it themselves one day. And I do tell them that I am doing something I am a little afraid of. I do share with them that it is scary, difficult, challenging, whatever it might be so that they don't think that I have some sort of superhuman strength. So they can see that I am just a person too and that I am willing to try.
So Didier has taken his allergy meds, though he is still convinced he does not have allergies, and has improved immensely. Lily has been given incentive not to throw up in the car by way of rewards for each time she doesn't, which will lead to a small price after five vomit-free morning car rides. Virginie was given a probiotic and lots of coconut water and liquid and is back on her regular cycle. And Mommy? Well Mommy is trying to tackle that on-line shopping list and wrangle the gifts for all who do so much to support us in our lives here. Mommy is grateful and Mommy is hopeful. And she hopes that in her forty-first year, she will find a way to celebrate with her husband and two beautiful girls together in a place that restores peace and hope to our family.
(c) Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
