Carlsbad ~ Day 2, or maybe it’s three…

The plan was to get up at 7am and watch David surf. After waking at 9:30am, and realizing that was not going to happen, we sat around waiting for Nuno to wake, which took us to 11am.

We decided to go right to Plan B was to head out to the San Diego County Fair. The first step was the ferris wheel.

Although Jackie and I were DYING to get on all the crazy rides, we had to show some restraint since Nuno was too young. We were thrilled to find out that we were all allowed on the bumper cars. YIPPEE!!!

Forgot to mention that on the ride home my son asked me if he was going to get a driver’s license. I had to explain that 1) He’s too young & 2) He has to show us that he understands the objective when driving is avoiding crashing.

Wheee! A great day was had by all.

Left Sydney early morning, and as always saying goodbye to dad/hubby was difficult. Having three “homes” is wonderful, but leaving people in each of them is always hard. Always.

We arrived in California a couple of hours later. The flight was uneventful, for us at least. There were was a medical emergency and a woman who vomited (unfortunately hitting the people sitting in her row.)

We grabbed our car and as we headed out of the car rental parking lot  I noticed the gentleman checking the cars had his car trunk/boot open listening to the Mexico-South Africa game. It’s so great to see everyone so excited about the World Cup.

We arrivied at Uncle David & Auntie Jackie’s a couple of hours later. We were very warmly received by Manaia, their new puppy. Nuno quickly became best friend with her and Kilo.

We were all pretty shattered, so after a shower we all napped.

Waking from the nap was EXTREMELY difficult. But knowing that we were going to have American pizza made it worth it.

With temperatures dropping to 10°C/50°F, my poor son has had to resort to layering up to shield himself from the harsh elements. As he got dressed this morning he begged me for a jacket. When I also grabbed a vest, he could not have been more thrilled. We still have an hour before we head out the door, but this is how he stays warm: t-shirt, long sleeved hooded shirt, sweatshirt, down vest and sweatpants (a must, regular pants will not do under these conditions.)

So I’ll savor the moment.

(Lana, years from now we may forget this day, so let me note it here. You were asking Nuno if he wanted to hear about your day at the Australian Museum and the dinosaur puppet show. You drive your brother crazy most days, but I know you adore him:)

Zira, I know rain is no big deal to you, but darling, in these parts a downpour is an event.

I told the kids walking to school in the pouring rain would be an adventure. Lana responded, “It’s not an adventure. It’s a walk to school in the rain!”

Nice to see some things never change:)

Winter arrived this week. On top of 5 days (so far) of on and off rain, the temperature has plummeted to 14°, Celsius of course,  (that’s 57°F.) I say plummeted because of the havoc it has wreaked on my poor son. Every morning as he changes out of his pajamas he is either going on about how, “IT’S FREEZING!” or “I’M SO COLD MOMMY!”  I don’t say anything like, “When I was a kid, it was so could you could freeze, literally.” or “Kid, when I was your age I walked to school in the snow!” No these things would make no sense to him. He doesn’t even have any memories of snow. The last winter we were home he was 2!

So until we get home for American summer, my son is having to brave the elements. In Sydney of course that means living in a drafty home.

Maybe it’s his buzz cut, but that boy could not survive without his hoody on. Even at school pick-up, I walk in to find him sitting inside with his mates building things with his hoody on! It’s just not right!

Another sign of winter is Lana wearing her Winter Uniform. I absolutely love it! I tried to get a nice shot, but all I managed was a picture where she is ‘pretending’ to walk. And she would not stop ‘pretending.’ This picture reminds me of Maria’s ‘action’ shots.

I have been terribly remiss in telling you all about the activities that Lana (she’s all the way to the left) & Nuno get to participate in. It is probably because of all these sporting activities that I don’t have the time to write about them.

Even though sports keep us pretty busy, the kids involvement in them has been fantastic. At least from my perspective. However, until yesterday, Lana would have vehemently disagreed.

First, she had been “strongly encouraged” by her father to participate in Little A’s (kid’s track and field), then there was Nippers (kid’s surf lifesaving). Both started very painfully. At the start of both there were tears and complaining. Sport was not something she enjoyed AND there was the fact that she didn’t know anyone (save one girl in Little A’s) who was participating. Two strikes!

So at the start of term 2, when her father said she had to play a sport, I said I would not be taking place in forcing that happen. After going back in forth we all agreed she had to pick an ACTIVity. She tried to convince us that shopping was a sport. Sounded good to me, but her father did not buy it. After two weeks out of commission with pneumonia (another story) she did some “shopping” around and finally chose tennis.

As soon as we arrived at the tennis courts, she told me that she did not want to play. “Here we go again,” I thought. I didn’t want a battle, but I did insist she try. The truth is that even though Nippers and Little A’s were forced on her, and started out pretty rough, she did end the seasons by loving them both. So off onto the courts she went. None of the girls were from her school. Yet, two of them immediately ran over, unprompted, and asked her to join them in the line. I couldn’t have asked for a better scenario.

I’m not saying that she’s the next Venus Williams, but she was pretty good. You know, for a 7 year old who reads alot and doesn’t run willingly or kick a ball around much.

When the lesson was over she ran off the court begging me to let her come back. She proclaimed that she, “Loved it!” Honestly, I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

On our way home we drove by the train station and picked her dad up. She had him convinced that she hated the lesson, the teacher stunk and the girls in her class were mean. He bought it, hook, line and sinker. It was the story he was prepared for. Not until she giggled and waved her new racket (the one she fell asleep with) did he realize that she was fooling him. I still don’t think either of us believe it.

Last summer, while I was back home, my brother asked me where I came up with the nicknames for Nuno & Lana. For some reason I didn’t get around to answering him. Then a few months ago (maybe longer) my friend Sara asked me the same question in an email. My plan was to address it here. Well, I wasn’t quick enough because Jesse just asked me the same question last week. I promised him that I would give him an answer this week, so here you are.

I will start with Lana. When she was born, I spoke to her primarily in Portuguese. It wasn’t until she started to talk, in what seemed like paragraphs, that I capitulated and just spoke English with her. Really, she went from single word utterances to not shutting the h@$% up!

What happened though in those 2.5 years, was there was an infiltration of Portuguese words into her vocabulary. To this day, her favorite stuffed animals are Aõ-Aõ (that is the sound a Portuguese dog makes when it barks) and Macaco (Portuguese for Monkey). Both of these animals she named herself.

Besides being exposed to Portuguese, we also further complicated matters by giving her a gazillion nicknames. We didn’t realize how out of control we were until Nuno came along and wouldn’t remember his sister’s name. He actually was calling her Djuga-djuga for a while before we realized that that was his name for her. It just hit us all at once that we must be confusing the hell out of him. Quickly we limited the nicknames we used for her.

Monkey, is probably the name that we used most. That is who she is, our monkey. Yet, when we arrived here the name I chose to use, I think subconsciously, was Lana. Australia is lovely, but it is sterile when it comes to languages. You hear a variety of ‘Englishes’ on the street, but that’s about it. Lana is my way to infuse a little bit of Portuguese into our lives. Lana /pronounced ~ lÅ­nÅ­/ came about because it rhymes with mana (Portuguese for sister), which was another nickname we had for her.

I am admitting here that although it is a hokey country bumpkin thing to do, we called my daughter ‘sister’. And this stuck. Actually, my husband and I still call each other, “mom” & “dad”. This habit is something I inherited from Carlos. I place the blame squarely on him. But we are weak, and we can not stop this thing we do, no matter how hard we try.

Nuno, on the other hand has a name that just did not lend itself to nicknames. One day, I took his name and made it Polish by adding -newsky to it. This is something that Maria used to do to bastardize names. I can’t explain it, but it just came out of my mouth one day. Quickly I went from ___newsky to Nuno. My husband just about jumped out of his skin and insisted I NEVER call his son Nuno. Hum, that was it. My kid was nicknamed. Eventually, my husband embraced it.

It worked really well when we were in Portugal since his real name is very difficult to pronounce in Portuguese. When we left, friends of ours gave him a lovely silver chain with a letter ‘N’ charm. I realized then, that this nickname was for keeps.

Like his sister’s name, it allows me, and them, to hear Portuguese a few times a day. It reminds us of where I am from, and to a certain extent where they are from.

Note, pictures were taken in Fall of 2008 in Portugal.

Cultural clarification: After reading the post, my husband commented that his parents call each other ‘mum’ & ‘dad’. Although, technically they live in the country, they are a very elegant couple, nothing ‘bumpkin’ about either of them. In New Zealand however, people refer to one’s parents with those titles. Even when speaking to a non family member a kiwi will say, “We’re going to mum’s house.”, not “We’re going to my mum’s house. This took some getting used to. But now I roll with it. So no, I am not calling my very sophisticated in-laws country bumpkins.