What Jordan Can Be Like

Weeks ago we went to a birthday party of Eiza's classmate from her nursery school. The invitation was designed as a medieval scroll: a royal celebration hosted by the king and queen for Her Highness the Princess...we'll call her Dahlia.

I understand how the princess thing is sometimes unavoidable with girls. On top of that, we live in a kingdom. But nothing, not even hearing about Dalmatian puppies once being given as party favors here, prepared me for this. On the south lawn of the prestigious Dunes Club, tables had been set up with white linens for the adults and children. There was a five star hotel buffet and a meter high pink castle cake. There was a red carpet, princess decorations galore, and at least a hundred people, half of whom were nannies, servers or party animators.

Children were asked to attend in royal costume. Upon arrival to the club, the girls were brought to a woman dressed as Cinderella who applied eyeshadow and lipstick while another woman twisted up her hair, sprayed it pink, and attached beaded butterfly clips. Eliza was given plastic bracelets and rings (that slipped off her baby fingers and arms). They gave her a pink feather boa and a crown that were fun-looking but irritating and quickly removed, as well. In fact, she went right for the swing and after that kicked off her shoes and played in the sand while the other kids gathered round for the activities led by the animator.

He was the grand dame of the ceremonies, a large campy Arab (Jordanian?) who would clap his hands and call out game rules to the children. Before starting, he always yelled, "Nannies back! Nannies back!" But inevitably, the Filipino ladies would rush in, one hand on the arm of a kid, the other scooping up scattered candy from the busted paper mache castle. There were lots of games. It was all very overwhelming. Lots of little plastic prizes.

There was something curious about the broken-nosed, sports-jersey dad and all his brothers there. One felt this had to be the most perfect magical birthday for their little princess...or else.

It's not uncommon for cakes to have giant sparklers burning on them instead of candles. But 3-year-old Dahlia had to stand in front of the crowd with the giant pink castle cake burning under as many sparklers as it could carry, then behind her they set off bigger ones, spitting and roaring their sparks. And if that wasn't enough to scare us all, they set off another huge display of fireworks behind me and the other guests. One of Eliza's little friends was so traumatized by the party, she was in tears when I brought cupcakes to school for Eliza's birthday. Shaking and crying in the corner, she said: No! No! I don't want to go to a birthday party!

Mission Accomplished

Just hosted first ever baby shower, and it was a success! ...due in large part to Fe--I must give credit where credit is due. She makes my life possible, what can I say??

Being away from the States, I missed out on the wave of baby showers, so kind of fumbled my way through this. Add to that the complication of guests coming from different countries and so having different expectations of what a baby shower is supposed to be like. I consulted the guest of honor and built it around that: she opened the gifts in front of everyone, we played a kind of game, we drank mimosas, no kids were allowed. 

And the weather was FABULOUS. Or I should say that it remains fabulous... Ah, spring! Windows and doors wide open, bright light, warmish breeze. How could anyone not feel in a good mood?

Must say I appreciate even more Lisa (and Connie!)'s efforts on the shower they held for me before Miles was born. All the beautiful details. Personally, I find all the details a little hard to keep track of...no matter how many lists or automated reminders. In the end, I love how all the ladies chipped in and helped out to make it go smoothly. It really is the only way for me to be able to enjoy it...to be able to let go and receive help. I just can't control everything or else my mind never settles down.

And it is a special kind of pleasure to throw a party for someone else! So glad I had the chance.

How to Organize a Rebellion at Your Child's School

Both my children started at a preschool last fall that we were very excited about. There were some problems in the beginning and some unhappy parents. Too many kids in too small a space. There were other issues that arose, too, and there appeared to be no forum to address these issues except in one on one meetings with the director.

Parents are at a disadvantage. There are no parent meetings, no newsletters or website. We have no shared understanding of what is going on at the school, not even in our children's classes, and so cannot together address any issue. 

The director is a self-proclaimed "non-believer" in the importance of parent involvement. (She told us this at the school's first ever parents meeting, organized only for one class due to the on-going pressure by its uppity parents.) She refuses to read any literature on the matter that I offered to share because she believes she can find other research that refutes the claim that parent involvement has a positive impact on children. And I had only suggested volunteering and a newsletter, not a School Community Council.

There was a good showing at the parent meeting, although most of the people there were not Jordanian. I have a feeling that is somehow related to the fact that almost every day the King of Jordan is on the front page of The Jordan Times. "Trust me!" the director tells us. "Don't worry!" What's the point in wasting everyone's time with all this involvement, participation and communication?

With my stealth community organizing experience, I have been approaching all this with a firm belief that we can make change if we tread carefully, involve the necessary players and start with a win-win project. It looks like that'll be the newsletter. My specialty: propaganda. 

the beginning, off to a late start

The usual morning. Sipping coffee. Dressed for work. Trying to rush through my personal emails while Fe is outside with the children. I can hear her talking about how to take care of each other instead of fighting. Miles is conversing on a favorite topic: I am the biggest! I am bigger than Telmo. I am faster than you are. I am the winner!

No need to rush Miles to school. It's August. No need to rush to work. I'm part-time, after all. And I want to meet Thair who's coming to cut back the trees in the garden. This being Jordan, he's an hour late. 

Tardiness comes naturally to me though, and it's definitely a perk living abroad to have people be more understanding about it.

That said, most Jordanians seem to have higher expectations for punctuality than say Sudanese or Sierra Leonians. Infrastructural development makes it easier to get to places on time. Fewer real excuses.

So this is my first blog, naturally a bit late for a person who considers herself a writer of sorts.