The drawbacks of your toddler waking up for the day at 5 am are obvious.

One benefit, however – at least this morning – was that we got to hear a kookaburra, belting out his song long and loud in the darkness. Pretty cool. Naomi stopped, mid-pear, and just listened, and then laughed – she loved it. And it is a pretty fun sound to hear a kookaburra laugh. So when he was sadly “all done,” we looked up the kookaburra song.

I couldn’t quite remember the tune, but of course YouTube had a plethora of videos to jog my memory. Naomi’s unfortunate favorite:

http://youtu.be/5MrTbE-xFng

I find it a bit annoying. And, what’s with the “tweet tweet” at the beginning? This is how they sound:

KOOKABURRA (Marion Sinclair – Australian Children’s Song, 1936)

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Gay your life must be

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Eating all the gum drops he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
Leave some there for me

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Counting all the monkeys he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
That’s not a monkey, that’s me!

EXTRA VERSES:
Kookaburra flies from the old gum tree
Flapping his wings for all to see
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Flying oh so free

Kookaburra lands in the old gum tree
Fluttering his wings for all to see
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Happy as can be!

Kookaburra sits on a rusty nail
Gets a boo-boo in his tail
Cry, Kookaburra! Cry, kookaburra!
Oh how life can be!

Kookaburra sits on the electric wire
Jumping up and down with his tail on fire
Ouch, Kookaburra, ouch!
Kookaburra, hot your tail must be!

PS – Aren’t those last 2 verses a little sad? I thought they were a joke at first but I don’t think they are.

So finally today, Naomi and I visited the zoo and it was a beautiful sunny day! A mom I’d met at church had invited us to meet her and her 2 year old daughter Audrey at the zoo this morning. I was a bit anxious the day before – we were going to have to get an early start to meet them there in time, the forecast was sunny so experience told me to expect bad weather, etc. etc.

But the weather was, as the Aussies say, “glorious,” and we had a really great time! It was so much fun to get out so early in the day and to arrive at the zoo right as it opened. Naomi had so much fun with Audrey, and talked about her a lot later in the day, which shows me just how much fun she had. It did my mama heart so much good to see her giggling and running with another little girl again. I’ve felt sad for how much she’s missed her wonderful little friends at home while we’ve been here. She had played with Audrey several times at creche, which is I think part of why she seemed to connect with her so quickly today. And I had a really good time getting to know Anna, Audrey’s mom, better.

Our first stop was unexpectedly the reptile house – not what I would have imagined the girls would ask to see, but when we passed it on the way to the monkeys, there was a giant bronze statue outside of a lizard, and they were both interested in touching that, so we made our way inside. They loved it! They got to see lizards and iguanas eating their breakfast right next to the glass, and I got to see a Komodo dragon for the first time (it was Naomi’s first time too but she was not interested in it beyond noting that he was “ni-night” [sleeping]). There were even two large pythons slithering around in water – she was intrigued by them. The best part of the reptile house were the hanging strips of heavy plastic from the top of the doorframe at the entry and exit, which made it thrilling to run in and out (and in and out and in and out again).

Then we finally got to the monkeys. I mean chimps. (A disgruntled zoo volunteer corrected Anna and I as we were pointing out the “monkeys” playing and swinging to the girls, by informing us that they were not monkeys; monkeys have tails. Did we see tails? No. That means they are apes. Um, ok… thanks.)

Anyway, here is a picture of Naomi and Audrey watching the chimp mommy giving a bath to her baby:

Dude. That mommy has some killer biceps.

After that we headed toward the petting zoo, but on the way we saw beautiful ring-tailed lemurs (just another kitty cat if you ask Naomi or Audrey), a big male elephant (of course, when Anna said it was “the male elephant,” I thought she’d said “mad elephant”, because of the accent… I also thought her husband’s name was “Mike” not “Mark” as it really sounds exactly the same in Australian), and even got to see some gorillas.

The alpha male gorilla.

The gorillas were very interesting to Naomi, and must have been one of the high points of her day, as she talked about one incident in particular for the rest of the day. What happened that captured her attention was that one of the younger gorillas was playing tricks on the older gorillas: he sneaked up behind the alpha male (who was absolutely mammoth and pretty scary) and tapped him on the shoulder before quickly scampering off, prompting a swift turn of the head and a stern grunt from the older male. Then the little squirt ran up to a female gorilla and attempted to steal the banana she was eating. The female actually belted him across the face, and chased him around the enclosure, wrestling with him multiple times before he succeeded in escaping with the banana. Well. Naomi was pretty excited about that. I had been narrating for her, to keep her from getting too scared, and I had explained that the baby was trying to take the mommy’s food and she was saying, “No! That’s my food!” As the events unfolded, Naomi exclaimed a LOT, and after it was all over, she retold the story multiple times before we left the gorillas. And again when we were waiting for the ferry. And again when we were on the ferry. And again when we got home to Daddy. It might just be that she likes saying, “No!” really emphatically, but I think it was kind of an exciting thing for her to see them quarreling like that.

So anyway, we had a great day. Although you can’t tell by Naomi’s face in the next picture.

Naomi and I on the way home from the zoo, sharing an apple.

Here are some other shots:

Where toddlers buy ferry tickets at Circular Quay. Actually, I'm not sure why this machine has a keypad at that level, but it made a great toy for Naomi!

Hanging from, swinging from and climbing up poles is one of Naomi's newest hobbies. This unemployed ferry ramp entertained her for a long time as she climbed all over it.

We are all loving the weather lately - warm enough for bare feet at the park later in the day!

Thanks for all your encouragement, prayers and well wishes. Today was a good day for the culture shock adjustment process.

We went to church this morning. It was great by the way: we were all able to go together (unlike last week when we kept Naomi home because she had a fever, so Daniel and I took turns going to different services). Naomi had fun at creche, and we even got to stay for longer than 5 minutes at morning tea afterwards, which is their version of a coffee hour. (What happened last time was that brownies were being served at coffee hour and we literally couldn’t wrestle Naomi away from the table after her 3rd brownie, so we just left. This time she got 3 lemon poppy cupcakes by not telling either of us that the other parent had already given her one, but we decided to let it slide so we could visit a bit longer.)

Anyway, the only down side to church today was that, once we got home and were getting Naomi ready for her nap, we realized we’d left a member of the family at church: Puppy! Naomi’s little lovey, “Puppy” (aka. “Buppy” or “Pup-pup”), was given to her by her Aunt Erica & Uncle Justen when she was born, and he is now a quintessential part of naptime and bedtime. He has come along on all of our trips with us, and we’ve even had to hire a second Puppy to fill in for the original Puppy, since he of course sometimes needs to be thrown in the wash, or in case we can’t find him.

Well, substitute Puppy had to step up to the plate today. We had of course brought him along to Australia, and I’ve been hiding him in my closet (because, if she sees him, Naomi likes to have BOTH of the puppies and the whole purpose for having two is defeated. We let her have both at home but abroad we have a pretty strict one-Puppy rule – reason being, of course, that’s what we believe is in Naomi’s best interest).

Anyway thank goodness for that, because at nap time today I could not find the original Puppy anywhere. I spent a few minutes searching the apartment for him before I remembered that Naomi had brought him to church with her this morning. In my mind I saw her climbing down out of my arms at creche with him clutched in her arms, as the thought briefly crossed my mind that he might get, shall we say, “shared around” with so many other toddlers in the play area with her. But I hadn’t wanted to take him from her, and had figured he was probably also a comfort to her as she’s still getting used to this new place and new people. But then of course after church neither Daniel nor I had thought to go looking for Puppy when we picked her up from creche… Conclusion: he must still be at church.

So as Daniel tucked Naomi and substitute Puppy in for a nap, I hurried over to the church to sort through the toy cabinet and find him. There he was, buried under some play clothes and a fuzzy, well-loved bear. I could almost hear his little whimper of relief at being found.

And then, Puppy got to have an adventure of his own. I had decided to pick up some groceries while I was out, so I brought him into the store with me.

I picked up a few things that we needed like pasta and canola oil, and then also grabbed a few things that I recently added to our list of foods to try while here in Australia: Vegemite (I got the smallest jar, since my memory of the stuff is not all that positive), Weet-Bix (kind of like the big wafers of Shredded Wheat I think, so you eat them in a bowl with milk for breakfast, but they’re big bars), and Lime & Cracked Pepper Potato Chips (interestingly, not called “crisps” in the British fashion, despite Australia’s most direct culinary ancestor seeming to be the UK in other respects). I also bought another stick of butter to try (some of you know that what I originally bought here, labeled “butter,” seems more to me like really bad, waxy margarine. The ingredients on it were simply cream, salt and water, so I’m not sure what went wrong, and those are the same 3 ingredients on this butter’s label, so it may not be any better. The only difference is that this butter has a little note saying “Milk fat 80% minimum,” so maybe that will taste better?)

Which reminds me…

What's wrong with this picture?

Can someone please tell me what crime applesauce committed against the Australian people, to cause them to mandate it being sold in jars this small? I have looked in several stores, several times, searching for a decent-sized jar of applesauce, but all I can find is this measly little 250g jar. (How much is 250 grams anyway? Not enough for the Peckhams, that’s how much.) I bought one of these jars 2 weeks ago, used the entire jar the next day in one recipe of oatmeal breakfast cake (which calls for a cup, so I guess that’s how much 250 grams is), and suddenly it was gone. It’s normally a staple in our kitchen – Naomi and I love it straight up, I use it in several of our breakfast recipes, Daniel adds brown sugar and cinnamon and eats it for dessert. We usually buy the triple pack at Costco – 3 huge 48-oz jars of unsweetened applesauce, and that doesn’t last us for too long, depending on Naomi’s applesauce-mood. On top of that, this teeny tiny jar costs something like $3. And it’s sweetened. Sheesh.

Note: Ok, I just did a little research online and deduced that Australians view applesauce as a topping for meat. I guess that explains it. The website for the brand I bought had it listed alongside “mint sauce” under their line of sauces and spreads, and the only serving suggestion they gave was, “Serve with Roast pork or pork chops.” I like applesauce on my pork too, but to confine it to a condiment alone is such a mistake. Australia, you just don’t know what a good thing you’re missing.

So much for weather forecasts here – last week I planned to take Naomi to the zoo on the sunniest day of the week, but it turned out to be the wettest day of the week. Today it was supposed to be 70 and sunny, so we were planning to take a ferry ride along the harbour to sightsee… until we woke up to a thick blanket of fog covering all of Sydney! Actually what we woke up to was the sound of a very loud, low, dot-matrix printer… the sound of a fog horn calling out at regular intervals. I’m not sure if it started earlier than 5:15, but that was when Naomi woke up so it was at least going then. Well, we’ll probably just switch to another activity today, which doesn’t involve sightseeing from a boat on the water.

Actually… I think the dot-matrix just stopped! It’s 7:42. I still can’t see anything out our window, though. Huh.

Our view, with fog.

So I just accomplished one thing I wanted to do while here: I swam laps in the North Sydney Olympic Swimming Pool. I was so excited when I discovered that the closest swimming pool to our apartment was actually Sydney’s most iconic pool:

I’ll be honest: initially (at home) I thought to myself, “Wow! This pool is only a 5 minute walk from my house! I haven’t been able to swim laps in over a year because it just takes too long to get there and come home. But I can easily get here! I’ll do this during Naomi’s nap time! Two or three days a week! Yeah!”

But once I was here, culture shocked and also realizing how out of shape I am in terms of swimming, I hoped Daniel would forget I’d even mentioned it, so I could just let the opportunity to swim in it slip by without notice. If you didn’t know, Australian swimmers pretty much kill all other nations in the Olympics and otherwise. They’re amazing. And this particular pool is actually famous for being the site of more swimming records than any other pool.

Today I was feeling a little down. Daniel said I should go swim at the pool. I told Daniel it would surely be crowded (I’d heard it can be crowded at lunchtime). I told Daniel everyone there would probably be super fast and I’d feel so embarrassed. I told him I had eaten not long ago. I told him I haven’t swum in a year. But in the end, I decided to go anyway.

I walked down around 1:30. I paid the ridiculous price of $6.70 to get in. After walking through the gate, I was looking almost straight down probably 3 or 4 stories, on to the pool. Kinda scary. I was actually at the top of a very steep concrete grand stand right beside the pool, but it was so steep you felt like you were looking almost right down onto the pool. I cautiously made my way down (I’m not kidding – those steps were steep!) and sat on a bench to take things in before going in the water.

I was surprised to realize that most people there were not swimming that fast. In fact a lot of them looked like normal people like me, not rippling muscles or 1% body fat. In fact… most of them looked like they could be my grandparents. Not that intimidating!

Each lane was marked. Right beside me was the lane marked “Recreational Swim.” The people in this lane were walking and doing things beside swimming. The next lane was marked “Slow Lane – No Freestyle.” There was one person in this lane. The next lane was marked “Slow Lane – Only Freestyle.” This lane had about 5 or 6 people in it. Then there was a Medium Lane, a Fast Lane, and another Medium and another Slow Freestyle Only. Each of these lanes had a lot of people in them.

I decided I could start out with breaststroke or backstroke and get in the least populated lane, and lo and behold, just as I finally got in, that person got out! I got a whole lane to myself! Nice.

The water was surprisingly cold for a heated pool, but I remembered that’s always better, because you heat up while you swim so you don’t want the water too warm. The man getting out commented on it too, which made me feel a little more relaxed also. Maybe everyone here wasn’t so hard core.

So I took the plunge, dipped under and started my swim. It felt nice to stretch my body out in the water again. Pretty soon I found myself wondering when the end of the lane was ever going to come. Doing breaststroke meant I would certainly see the wall before hitting it, but…. I’d counted over 40 strokes by now, and usually 25 or so will get me to the end of the pool. I knew this was a meter pool, not yard, so I knew it would be longer, but when I’ve swum meters before, I’ve found it only about 10% longer than a yard pool. I stopped and treaded water for a second. I was only about halfway across the pool! I put my face in again and finally got to the end. 70 strokes?! Either this pool was crazy long, or I was crazy out of shape!

The other thing I couldn’t ignore about this pool was how incredibly salty the water was! It was at least as salty as ocean water, and I don’t personally really like swimming for exercise in ocean water – partly because I’m a bit leery of shark attacks, partly because the salt just fills your mouth and it’s so nasty. That happened to me again today – I sipped from my water bottle at the end of every lap, just to wash my mouth out a bit, and now (about 2 hours later) my tongue still feels kind of “burned” by the salt that kept washing past it as I blew bubbles out of my mouth.

After a few laps of breast and back, I looked at the other lanes to pick a lane to move into, in order to swim freestyle. I noticed that someone was swimming freestyle in the recreational lane, so I figured maybe the rules weren’t so tight about who swims what in which lane at this time of day. And no one else was in my lane anyway. I know from experience that trying to share a lane with someone doing breaststroke is really annoying since it’s such a wide stroke. So maybe this lane was a place for wide strokes, and if you want to swim other things in there you’re taking responsibility for getting smacked. So I gave it a shot.

One length of freestyle in the non-freestyle lane and at the end of the lane, a lifeguard was waiting. He kindly informed me that this lane was NOT for freestyle and explained about the other lanes, and what they were each for. I apologized and went back to breast, dipping into the next lane for free when I wanted to add that in.

After only 5 laps, I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed! Whoa! On the positive side, this meant I only had to repeat what I’d just done to make it a half hour workout. I realized at this point that I was really not enjoying the salt water much.

So I did finish the workout (with a measly 5 laps more), and decided to take a dip in the other pool as well. The outdoor pool is the most famous one, as it offers the incredible view of the bridge (although honestly you’re swimming laps! The only thing you ever see swimming laps is the black line at the bottom of the pool, and I can assure you that this black line was no different than in any other pool.) The indoor pool was up at the top of the grandstand, and was supposedly an infinity pool whose edge looks out over a view of the Sydney skyline.

I climbed back up those steep steep steps, and went in to the infinity pool. This was a 50 yard or meter pool – whatever it was it looked much more normal to me. It also only had about 5 lanes, as opposed to the other pool, which had about 7 lanes. I got in the slow lane and swam one freestyle lap. The water was not salty! It was quite warm, but it was very refreshing to swim in clean water. I only did the one lap since I didn’t want to overdo (having not swum in over a year), but if I go back I think I will almost certainly go in this pool instead. It may be warm but I just don’t like how salty the outdoor pool was. Plus I’m more used to a shorter pool. I know that makes me a bit of a wuss in swimmers’ circles, but that’s ok. :)

After that, I noticed a jacuzzi in the corner, and a long shallow pool stretching along the length of the inside wall of the room that the pool was in, opposite the wall with windows that looked out over Sydney Harbour. I saw a man sitting in this long pool, amongst a lot of bubbles. It was a really long jacuzzi! Perfect for sitting in and looking out over Sydney. I got in, and although it was quite cool, it was really pleasant. I rested and stretched a bit, and then got out and headed for home.

Strangely enough, the most sore part of my body is my hands (from stroking). I don’t know what that means, but oh well. I think I’ll probably go back at least one more time to get an actual workout done in the indoor pool, but I’m kind of doubtful it will turn into my daily nap time ritual. But I’m still glad I swam in the iconic outdoor pool at least once!

I’m very relieved to tell you about a cross-cultural experience we did NOT have to have a couple nights ago, and that is a trip to the emergency room.

We decided to take dinner out onto the patio, where sits a fairly flimsy plastic table with 2 chairs – one broken, one not. We moved 2 more chairs out, one with Naomi’s booster seat, and ate curry and rice. I had poured myself a mug of hot water, and set it on the table. Moments after I’d tried the water to find that it was still too hot for me (burned my tongue, to the degree that I couldn’t taste anything on that part of my tongue), Naomi started getting squirrelly. Before we knew it, she had kicked at the table and sent everything on it topsy-turvy, and the entire mug of hot water splashed down onto her legs.

My stomach immediately sank. Daniel and I both immediately jumped up, and as fast as I could I unstrapped her from her booster seat, picked her up and Daniel pulled off the pants and socks she’d been wearing. Looking back, I know that if the burn had been a lot worse, this would have been a very bad move, since the skin could have stuck to the pants and tearing them off like that could have done a lot of damage. But as it was, this ended up being a good move, as the polyester might have trapped the boiling hot water against her skin.

As fast as we could, we rushed her into the bathroom, set her in her little plastic bathtub, and started the cold water running into it. By this time she was screaming bloody murder, and I was crying myself, looking at the angry red color that the skin all over her legs was turning. I’ve since talked to a few other moms (including my own sister) whose kids have had burns that turned out even worse than this one, and their kids are perfectly normal now. Some of my panic was probably just that Naomi had never had a burn this big or this bad before, so I didn’t know what to expect.

We added some ice from the two little ice trays in our freezer to help make the water colder. Then we realized that the problem with the bathtub was that we couldn’t get the water to cover her legs high enough without setting her in up to her waist, and as she was already trying to climb out of the water I didn’t really want to do that if we could help it. As someone who has iced my legs in ice water before, I knew how painful it can be, and I hated to keep putting her back in, but I knew it was better for her to deal with the temporary discomfort of the cold than to deal with the long-term discomfort of skin that had been burned worse because it hadn’t been cooled quickly enough. Instead, we tried putting her legs in a bucket that was deeper and could cover her up above her knees, where the burn reached.

The next thing we did after getting Naomi’s legs in cold water was to call the nurse help line, a free public service number we had gotten from someone about a week earlier when Naomi had had a low fever (just in case the fever had gotten worse). I talked to the nurse while Daniel sat with Naomi, who was still screaming wildly. Especially considering how scared I was at the time, it was really hard to remember things like saying Naomi’s and my birthdates in the order of day/month/year (as opposed to the American way of saying month/day/year), or what was my new address or phone number (I didn’t even know my phone number, so I had to look it up on Daniel’s phone).

One thing the nurse said as soon as I got on and told her the problem was that we shouldn’t be using ice in the water, because it could do more damage than good to the skin. So we quickly changed the water, but not without that horrible feeling of parent guilt that comes with doing what you think is best, only to find out later that it was actually putting your child through unnecessary pain. Once we put Naomi in water that was only cool not ice cold, she calmed down very quickly. Her continued screaming before this had only made the burn seem worse; looking back I think that while some of the crying could have been pain or discomfort (especially initially), it was probably more from being scared and perhaps because of the too-cold water. :(

The nurse asked a lot of the questions the nurses on help lines in the US would ask, like is she breathing and responsive, etc., although this nurse also checked to make sure the burn wasn’t from lightening or an electrical burn. She also asked about the size of the burn area, like what percentage of her body it covered. This was hard for me to estimate – I’m already pretty bad at spatial reasoning. And it meant Daniel had to lift her out of the water several different so I could check things, which started Naomi crying all over again, each time we had to do it. The nurse asked if it was 10% of the body. I said maybe. Then she asked how many palms of Naomi’s hand would cover the area – was it 5? I said probably. The strangest question she asked was whether Naomi or I was of Aboriginal or Torres Strait origin – not what ethnicity we were in general, but specifically if we were of that ethnicity. Interesting.

At the end of the call, the nurse recommended we take Naomi in to the emergency room, with the burn wrapped in a wet cloth. Before we moved here, we’d figured out where our closest hospital was, and what the procedure would be in terms of payment and our stateside insurance coverage, in case we needed medical help while here in Australia. I was glad we’d done that, but it still felt daunting to actually get there and go through everything, being in a different country and wondering what would be different or the same as at home. We started figuring out how we would get there, whether we should take the train or taxi, and decided calling a taxi would be best. I started packing up different things we should bring with us, while Daniel sat with Naomi in the bathroom. By this time, Naomi was completely calm – even playfully kicking in the water a little. It was maybe 45 minutes after the accident.

After I’d packed some things up and posted a quick prayer request to Facebook (which felt a bit hopeless, when I realized it was about 2 in the morning in California), Daniel called for a taxi. The dispatcher couldn’t give him an estimate on when to expect the taxi, and this made me feel anxious. It felt so urgent that we get Naomi in as quickly as possible, and now we had to wait on a taxi and we didn’t know when it would arrive? I felt so powerless, when it seemed so important for my child. We ended up deciding that Daniel would go down the street to try and flag down another taxi, unless this taxi arrived sooner. I didn’t really want him to leave, but this seemed like the best thing.

After he left, I actually think it was good for me to be alone with Naomi with nothing else to have to do to get ready, because it let me see how well she was doing, which I hadn’t really noticed before. She was asking to get out of the water, and at first I told her we needed to stay in the water. But as I noticed how carefree she was, I thought it would probably be ok to let her get out of the water. After all, I’d read before that immersion in cool water should last at least 15-2o minutes, and it had been much longer than that. Plus, the nurse had said to wrap Naomi’s legs in a wet cloth when we came to the ER, but that that was just for Naomi’s comfort. So if comfort was the only factor, why not let her get out?

One somewhat random thing that was interesting to me as a parent during this time, relates to Naomi and Jesus. We have a photo that Daniel took of the carved wooden Jesus on the cross from our church at home. It’s a special picture to me, because I particularly love that depiction of Jesus, and it deeply ministers to me. I had Daniel take it specifically for the labor and birth of Naomi 2 years ago, so that I could look at the picture of it as I labored. I brought it with us to Australia and Naomi really likes the picture. She often says hi to Jesus, and likes to offer Him bites of her breakfast and blow Him kisses. It’s really sweet. She also seems very interested in the fact that Jesus had owies, and talks about it a lot when she looks at the picture. So I brought the picture into the bathroom, thinking maybe she’d like to look at the picture since Jesus had owies similar to the owies she had now. But she didn’t really seem interested in Jesus. What this impressed upon me was: I am the primary and most recognizable face of Jesus to my child. She may be interested in Jesus, and I believe even children her age can have experiences of Jesus directly. But when it comes down to it, as far as I know, she doesn’t have much actual relationship with Jesus at this point. She may have a positive impression of Him, but He’s still pretty unfamiliar to her. That’s why she has parents – to introduce her to Him over time. To be the hands and arms and legs and heart of Jesus to her – loving her like He does so that when she’s old enough to understand who He is she can believe and receive that that is how He loves her too. So in a situation like this, Naomi won’t find comfort in a picture of Jesus like I do – rather, she wants her Mommy and Daddy whom she knows and trusts. This is kind of a “duh” thing, but it was something I hadn’t seen so clearly in an actual circumstance before.

By the time Daniel came back with a taxi waiting downstairs, Naomi was doing so well that we talked about whether we should take her in at all. On the one hand, I always prefer to err on the side of safe rather than sorry. It would cost us some money, but that’s never as important as our child’s well-being. On the other hand, it was almost bedtime and not only was she acting totally normal, her skin looked so perfect you couldn’t even tell anything had happened to it – it wasn’t even red anymore.

We ended up deciding to just let her go to sleep, and if anything changed or if she woke up crying, we could always go in then. Turned out to be a fine decision – she’s been totally fine ever since.

Talking about it later, Daniel and I wondered how things had turned around so quickly. It was hard to imagine that she spilled almost-boiling water on herself, after I’d just burned my tongue on it, and that her skin was so perfectly fine, only an hour later. On the one hand, she had been wearing pants and this could have helped be a barrier between her and the water, and we got her into cold water right away. But on the other hand her pants were very thin polyester and don’t seem like they would have done much. So, although we can’t figure out exactly what happened – whether it was explainable or miraculous – we’re really glad that everything turned out alright, and that we did not have to find out what it’s like to visit the ER in Australia.

I feel like I owe it to my soul to say something on here about culture shock. And not just my soul – I think my stomach would also appreciate it if I spoke up rather than continuing my rather indecorous streak of stress eating.

I sort of alluded to my culture shock in my post about the weather, but that wasn’t quite coming out with it -weather can be stressful wherever you are. Part of the trouble is, I can’t quite pinpoint my culture shock on any one thing. Not that that’s the definition of culture shock, but somehow I feel like I should be able to point my finger at one big bad thing. Or like there has to be something wrong with the new culture, for it to deserve a complaint like a visitor experiencing culture shock in it. And I can hardly call Sydney a bad place.

The people are wonderful and welcoming (particularly at our church, as well as Aussies by and large). Maybe it’s a bit hard to understand them, but they’re kind and warm-hearted to an un-American degree.

We have Internet and phone (and Skype!) so I’m able to stay in touch with family and friends back home. Maybe most times I feel like calling someone to talk it’s the middle of the night where they live, but it’s still possible to talk to them at some point.

Sydney is an amazing city, with lots of great things for kids to do. Maybe it takes an hour to actually get to any of them because of the public transit system, but they’re there for the visiting.

There are all kinds of moms’ groups everywhere. I mean everywhere. Do you realize that if I wanted to, Naomi and I could attend a play group every day of the week without walking more than 7 minutes from our front door? Maybe they cost to attend, but they’re thriving and happy to have newcomers.

The weather isn’t bad. Maybe we lost half our summer to be plopped down in the middle of winter, and I’ll be giving up my entire Fall (my favorite season) in return for TWO winters (and a spring), but people say spring here will be nice, and there’s no snow only rain.

The food is essentially Western. We can get bread, meat, cheese, chocolate, fruit. Maybe bananas are $7/pound (?? Part of Australia is tropical, so Daniel and I are scratching our heads over this). And maybe bread is $5.50 a loaf. And maybe the “pure butter” I bought actually acts, looks and tastes like really bad margarine. And maybe the cheddar only comes in two varieties: “sharp” and “sharper.” And maybe all the chicken and eggs I’ve eaten here have an odd taste to them. And maybe no freaking country outside the US seems to sell plain Cheerios without a glaze of sugar on them that mysteriously turns Naomi into an unusually demanding little booger… ok, so maybe the food is a bit of an issue for me.

But maybe the real problem is all those little “but”s. There isn’t any one big complaint I can make about Australia, except that: it’s not my home. That sounds cliche but it’s a difficult experience, no matter how much you know to expect it. Much as I despise Southern California’s image-obsessed culture, it is my culture. Those are my people. At least Hollywood and the body-image focused ads on TV are familiar things for me, and I’m used to feeling annoyed by them. But then on top of that, there are so many individual people that I love who live there – my church, my friends, my family. I’m realizing how much I miss being able to go over to a friend’s house, where Naomi can have fun with friends, and I can visit with someone I already know and trust. For me personally, it takes an extra 10 pounds of mental/emotional effort to go furrowing out into an unknown place, amongst perhaps-kind-but-still-UNKNOWN people, just to do something simple like take Naomi outdoors to play at a park. It’s not easy for me. Or cooking: making breakfast, lunch and dinner may be annoying or tiresome at home in the US but at least I already know of several things I could make without looking at a recipe. And going to the store may be a pain with a kiddo and the car seat and the traffic etc., but at least I know where to go to get what I’m looking for, and I can zip in and get it and then zip out. That’s all different here, and it is an expedition to either find the ingredients needed for a familiar recipe, or invent a new recipe from local ingredients.

I know a lot of people would find the adventure of it fun – I myself found it super fun when I spent a summer in the Philippines or a semester in England, in college. It was part of what made life abroad so exciting and interesting and full of life, for lack of a better description. Going to the grocery store was an adventure. Making dinner was an adventure. Heck, stepping out the front door was an adventure. And the same is all true now, only… the adventure is stressing me out!

I don’t know what’s changed – maybe I’m older and less flexible, or maybe it’s just that I’m a mom of a toddler now. Daily life with Naomi in itself fills up my adventure zone to about capacity on most days – much of anything else takes me into a red zone. It sounds kind of pathetic to say that, but I think it is true. Same reason I gave up training for marathons and triathlons for the foreseeable future – I don’t have enough reserve in me after parenting to do much more than a quick jog every couple days.

Daniel and I actually had a good talk about it last night. He reflected on the fact that, as a missionary kid, his deepest self bears the imprint of “the unknown” being familiar and normal to him. When he doesn’t know what’s coming or something unexpected happens, it doesn’t stress him out nearly as much as me. It probably also helps that he has a particularly easygoing and laid-back personality to boot. I on the other hand, was raised in an environment that was very predictable. When I don’t know what to expect, that does not feel familiar or usual for me. It’s different and so it takes a bit of effort to deal with it. And not only that, but I am by nature a highly sensitive person. So when I don’t know what to expect, it might even be more stressful for me than for the average, non-MK adult.

I’m going to ignore the very true statement that a lot of people really wish they could be here in my place. I know it’s meant to cheer me up and I appreciate the intention (and I acknowledge that I am very lucky and I’m grateful for this fun opportunity), but the truth of that statement doesn’t cancel out the stress, strain and pain I’m experiencing here, 7,000 miles from home. I don’t know if there’s much more to be said about it than that. It’s not that the specific experiences are so bad – some are pleasant, some are unpleasant. Some are a lot of fun, and interesting and exhilarating. But the amount of unfamiliarity in simple everyday things is just kind of overwhelming my heart at the moment. Kind of like sensory overload. Or like the red pressed-in marks on your hands after carrying extra heavy grocery bags. It’s lots of really itty bitty things that just add up to making me want to cry at 7 in the morning when my toddler wants raisins instead of the orange I just peeled.

It’s one thing to be excited about taking public transit everywhere… Walking everywhere is great exercise! We don’t have to pay for gas! It’s so beautiful to take the ferry under the Harbour Bridge! Naomi doesn’t have to be strapped into a car seat! No traffic! Ahhhhh!!!

But it’s another thing to have no car when it’s been raining, cold and gusty for the past oh 3 days, and your toddler goes crazy if she’s indoors too long. I am not a fan of this.

Our view, in the rains of this week. One night the downpour was so heavy, we couldn't see any of the lights in the city.

If you know me, you know I actually like rainy weather… at least when I’m in Southern California. I’ve long suspected that this is because it happens so rarely there, rather than because I truly love it. It’s almost novel. And it’s not that 3 days of rain is so tremendously drawn-out, but to be honest, when you don’t have a car it really stinks to have to walk everywhere in the rain. With a one-year-old.

Wednesday was forecasted to be about 70* and sunny (nope, I haven’t mentally switched to Celsius, and probably won’t as long as my internet connection works). “Perfect,” I thought, “those construction workers upstairs are still determined to dig to the other side of the world through my ceiling, so I’ll just take Naomi to the zoo for the day and let her nap in her stroller there.”

But a plan to go to the zoo is either code to God for “please send buckets of rain” (this happened last week too), or the forecast was just really screwed up, because Wednesday turned out to be much colder, much windier, and much wetter than any other day that week. I ditched the plan for the zoo when I realized it was already 9:30 am and we were just getting out the door (since Naomi usually naps around 11 or 12, and transit alone takes 2 hours to/from the zoo). Also, the day before, the construction upstairs hadn’t actually been so bad; maybe today the noise level would be almost tolerable? I decided we’d just go to the park, come home for her nap, and then maybe head to the zoo in the afternoon if the weather cleared up. The park idea bombed (it was empty and thus lost half of its charm to my toddler), so we ended up walking down to Luna Park, Sydney’s amusement park which is also where our ferry landing is. The clown face at the park entrance is a Sydney icon. He completely freaks me out, but for some reason Naomi isn’t bothered by him. Probably has something to do with the monkey noises she makes at him whenever she sees him.

The freaky Luna Park clown that greets us at our ferry landing, Milsons' Point. You can't see his huge teeth in this shot.

I’d heard Luna Park is free to walk around in (though it costs to go on rides), and I thought she might enjoy doing that, as her newest “thing” is helping Mommy push the stroller. I was right that she’d be very intrigued by the bright lights and colors; I was wrong about her being content just pushing the stroller around and looking at things. Not being able to go touch any of the brightly-colored (way overpriced) rides soon turned into a tantrum, so we quickly left.

Then it started to rain.

Then Daniel called to say construction had started upstairs, and was quite loud.

And then, when everything was looking pretty desperate, a ferry pulled up to the landing next to us, and it was heading toward Circular Quay (the main wharf, from which the zoo ferry departs). In a moment of impulse, I wheeled the stroller onto the ferry and decided to go to the zoo.

The serendipity continued at Circular Quay: the rain cleared, and while we usually juuuust miss the zoo ferry when our ferry arrives, for some reason this time I got there with 5 minutes to spare, so we just hopped on the zoo ferry and were on our way. Things were looking up.

We arrived at the zoo and took the bus to the top (the entire zoo is one big hillside, with one entrance at the bottom – requiring that you walk up to see everything – and another entrance at the top – so you can freeload and walk downhill the whole way). First stop was the chimpanzee house – Naomi LOVED it! I might have actually enjoyed it even more than she did, because it was such a delight to watch her watch them. There was a baby chimp and several adults, and she was fascinated with their swinging and speed at climbing up and down.

Naomi watching the "ee! ah!"s.

After awhile we moved on, and when she saw a group of school kids sprawled across a lawn eating their lunches, she was ready to eat (with them, of course). By the time we were nearing the end of lunch, it was starting to rain again. Luckily, I knew there was a Parents’ Room nearby, so we hurried in there to finish eating in a dry place, and also so she could play on the little playground in there.

I would wear this shirt. Except that I refuse to wear a picture of a Teletubby.

This was mostly a success. Except that the video playing in there was Teletubbies. Naomi liked them of course. Oh well.

She became more interested in playing than eating (nothing new these days), and eventually I started thinking we should get going. It was still pretty chilly and since I hadn’t planned to come to the zoo, I had left behind my scarf, rain coat and umbrella, so I wasn’t relishing the idea of walking around for 2 hours in the rain so Naomi could nap in her stroller. I called Daniel on the phone, and he said he could meet up with us soon, so if we took the ferry back to Circular Quay we could meet up sooner and go somewhere dry. I was fed up with everything but said ok.

At this time, I was conscientious enough to note what time the next ferry would leave the zoo (usually I forget to do this and then just miss a ferry/train/etc.). I noted that we had about 15 minutes to get there, which should have been plenty of time (which means just about enough time, realistically). The ferry ran only every 30 minutes so I was motivated to make the soonest one. But Naomi had a stinky diaper so we stopped to change that, except like I mentioned in a previous post, the changing tables in these Parents’ Rooms are made for kids about 2/3 her height (are most Aussie kids potty training by this age??), so her legs hang off and she hates it. This time it led to her getting out frustration by kicking me in the stomach over and over, while the stinky diaper was open and getting everywhere… very nice. So trying to incorporate discipline, while cleaning up, while feeling cold and defeated by the weather, while trying to hurry for the ferry… it was one of those high moments in parenting, I tell you.

After all of that, and managing to coerce her into the stroller, I zipped us as fast as I could down to the bottom of the zoo, a process made longer by having to wait for a few elevators. My time was running out and I still wasn’t quite out of the zoo. I started to run. After exiting the last gift shop, I was trying to find the last elevator to take me down to the road to the ferry landing, but I got lost, and found myself running a ways down a path that dead-ended, then having to run back, only to find myself and the stroller facing a few flights of stairs. Beautiful. You have 3 different elevators for wheelchair visitors, and then you peter out and leave them to fend for themselves against a few flights of stairs at the end? What’s up with that?

I picked up the stroller and jogged down the stairs as quickly as I could. Now I was finally on the road, and could see the water. My watch told me that it was exactly quarter after twelve (the time of departure), but I remembered on our last trip to the zoo feeling irritated because the ferry took off  late, and wondered if it might happen again.

I sprinted as fast as I could, but about 200 yards from the wharf, I finally passed a clearing in the trees and could see the ferry already pulled away from the landing and on its way to CQ. Rats.

Another family had also missed the ferry, and one girl mentioned that since the gift shop was only a 3-minute walk, she was going there to wait for the next ferry. I remembered that there was a really neat wall in there which was completely glass, and there were seals swimming on the other side of the glass. I knew Naomi would probably enjoy that. I seriously did NOT want to find the silver lining of this situation (when I’m mad I want everything to go completely horribly so that it’s truly pathetic and I can really feel sorry for myself, and this story would be so much more pathetic if I’d had to wait a half hour on a cold ferry landing in the rain, don’t you think?) Just as badly, I also did not want to walk back up that hill I’d just sprinted down. But I made myself turn around and head back.

I tried to walk back into the gift shop, but was chastised by a zoo official a few feet away – apparently that was the entrance to the zoo (?) so she wanted me to pay first, which meant standing in line, out in the cold rain. I sighed, knowing I’d just spent the whole morning in the zoo, and had an annual pass, but did it anyway. Once inside the gift shop, though, when I saw Naomi’s face light up at the sight of the seal swimming just on the other side of the glass, I was glad we’d come back. I called Daniel to tell him we’d missed the ferry, and told him we were waiting in a fun spot. He said if I wanted, I could just wait at the gift shop and he’d find us there.

Naomi found lots of wonderful treats in the shop – she could hang from the railing while watching the seal at the same time, there were some very soft and squishy stuffed animals (allllll kinds of animals) for her to kiss and hug, and there was even an enormous stuffed koala for her to seat herself on.

Could a spot be better for Naomi? She gets to look at a seal swimming in the water AND hang from a railing at the same time. Home run. At least for about 5 minutes...

After awhile, I glanced at my watch and noticed that, if we’d been planning to catch the next ferry, we should leave now. I was still a bit undecided as to whether we should or not. On the one hand, she was having a good time now, but on the other hand, if the good times soured it would be a whole half hour (in a gift shop with lots of breakables) before the next ferry. I debated as the minutes ticked by. I’d just decided to stay, when Naomi got tired of playing with the things she was allowed to play with, and began to seek mischief. I quickly vetoed my previous decision, picked up all the stuffed animals she’d just thrown off the shelf, packed up our things and raced out the door, pushing the stroller with one arm, and holding her by her waist with the other. I did a repeat of my previous sprint down the hill to the ferry, this time with a peculiar and unfortunate warm wetness creeping down my pant leg, but at least we made it. Just. They literally were pulling back the ramp when they saw me sprinting, but compassionately held off about 30 more seconds so I could jump on.

Whew.

I called Daniel to tell him we’d made the second ferry, and also to ask him to bring me a change of pants. The ferry ride back was a bit dicey, as Naomi was now very overtired. I knew that the ferry back home would probably be leaving close on the heels of this ferry’s arrival, so I got us all ready to try and run across Circular Quay to make it (since of course the two wharves are on opposite ends from each other). We disembarked, we ran, we missed it. Double rats.

It was another half hour til the next ferry. Public transit how I despise you!

Daniel called and I told him I was going to take the train as I just couldn’t imagine sitting here for another 30 minutes – this whole wet, cold, frustrating experience needed to be over as soon as possible, and trains run every 5 or 10 minutes. He pointed out that I’d have to change trains and manage some stairs with the stroller, so I grudgingly agreed to wait for the ferry. It wasn’t as bad as the ferry ride – Naomi was able to run around at the landing and it was covered so we were at least dry.

The ferry finally came, we finally made it to Milsons’ Point and that ghastly clown face at Luna Park, and then it was just a matter of pushing the stroller home in the rain up the steep hill that lies between Milsons’ Point and our apartment.

Once home, I sat by the heater for the rest of the afternoon.

I’m not trying to complain about how bad we have it – I know we have a pretty sweet gig here in Sydney. But nothing is perfect. Just keeping it real. That’s kind of my job in our family. :)