My Captivity

One of the very first things my Dad ever taught me to say was this: “E=mc^2.” Then he would ask me what it meant and I would rattle off the whole equation in word form. “Energy = mass times the speed of light squared.” His co-workers and other strangers were no doubt impressed. Too bad for him I was only a trained monkey and had no real aptitude for math. I think it crushed his soul when this fact was discovered.

My problems with doing math aren’t new. In fact I remember quite vividly sitting with my Dad at the table while he tried to explain multiplication and fractions to me in the 4th grade. For. Hours. It was inhumane Life was rough then. I would sit, head down, staring at the paper while my Dad would explain in exasperated tones, the problem once again. I still wouldn’t get it. Tears came from both of us, though it was always a toss up as to who would actually shed them first.

I recall having to miss out on a school performance one night because I had math homework and didn’t get it done. I was supposed to be a sheep (with a super cute tail that I got to wag at people), but the only bleating that would go on that night came from me in my room, sobbing because I had missed the show. My lamb chops were busted. (Over pun: yes. Over dramatic: not at all.) It was one of the more traumatizing times of my life.

Fast forward to today as I watch the Bigger Captor try and work with the Smaller Captor on HIS math homework. The frustration that exudes from him has got to be identical to my Dad’s frustration with me. I even feel like I’M in trouble when the kid is doing HIS homework.

He’s only working on multiplication and division at this point.  The only way I have those same problems memorized is from the hours of sitting and doing flash cards with my Dad. Learning to regurgitate those quickly became a matter of survival for me.

Right now in my own school work, and I am also doing math. Thankfully we only have to take one class at a time, and it’s only for 5 weeks. I’ve survived all the classes this far, but I’m convinced this one will be the death of me.

The other night after one of the more exasperating Bigger/Smaller Captor math moments, I had to turn to the Bigger Captor and ask for help with my own math homework. He looked at me like, “you’re kidding, right?” Sadly, I was not. You see, after the 4th grade, I still never got any better at math. It’s been my arch enemy my whole life. I do OK with basic math, but let’s be serious- the second you start adding letters to things- I. AM. SCREWED. And formulas? Oy vey. . .

I freeze, like a dear in headlights. My heart starts pounding, my head instantly starts hurting, and I fear impending death if forced to do another problem.

The Bigger Captor tries to explain the problems to me, while I look at him with wide, confused eyes. I hear his voice, but I don’t understand the language. I thought math was supposed to be the universal language? . . . more like universal confidence killer.

I can have the best day in the world at work (solving international crises), then come home to math homework and instantly it becomes the worst day in history.

Our teacher is pretty nice, though; at least he stops to help explain things. He won’t give the answer to you, but at least, he makes it clear where you messed up and how to fix it. He must be the patron saint of math, if there is such a thing. I just want to know why he wasn’t around in the 4th grade.

If I pass away suddenly in the next 3 weeks (what is left of my math class) I implore you to let the world know that math is a silent killer, and it needs to be stopped. And please, no equations printed on my head stone. When I get to where I am going, it is safe to say I won’t be hanging out with the mathematicians, and I’d hate to give anyone there a false idea of my abilities.

After the Hungarian Snowmageddon the other day, I realized I’ve done a rather poor job of keeping up with this blog. I have a decent reason though. Those people who pay my paycheck said I had to come back to the office if I wanted to keep receiving said paycheck. Apparently getting paid to sit home wasn’t an optimal scenario in their book.  I thought it was great, but I don’t get to make the rules, so back to the office I went. I thought I’d have enough time to keep up with family, work, school and the blog. I. Was. Wrong.  At any rate, here is an update to get you all up to speed on what has been going on here in the Tolin household.

The Bigger Captor: Still working his tail feathers off telecommuting for the firm back home. It’s worked out well this way, since he gets to spend more time with the Tiniest Captor. I fear any sort of bond she and I had will quckly be replaced by the Father-Daughter captor bond. Any chance of having her be on team Mommy is probably gone. The Bigger Captor has some help these days though.

This is probably a good time to introduce The Overseers. While both of them hearken from Cheyenne as well, both were working as Au Pairs in Kenya and their jobs had come to an end which left them with no where to go. So, we gave them somewhere to go! We’ll only have Overseer #1 here until the end of May and her other half, Overseer #2 is looking for a family of his own (until the end of May as well) We’re going to be too used to their help, so come May we’ll probably need to find a new Overseer since we won’t know how to operate without one.

The Smaller Captor is doing great in school, even though the other day he was putting food in other people’s soups. . . But come on, doesn’t soup contain food anyway? The Smaller Captor is also learning karate at school, so when he comes home, he smells more like a corn chip than usual. Gross.

The Tiniest Captor has learned how to roll over front to back and vice versa. She has also learned how to drool enough to soak every piece of fabric within a 10 ft. radius as well as scream like a banshee. I can’t find any child development chart that tracks these things, but I think she’s right on track. Soon we should start seeing the “throwing cheerios and toys” stage.

The Captor Puppies have escaped from the fence another 4, 297 times -though they’ve gotten good about coming right back down to the gate when they’ve done so. Loki has been diagnosed with Cushing’s syndrome and hypothyroidism. So he’s on a bunch of meds, the poor guy. Kyah’s arthritis seems to be acting up more these days, and we have to face reality that they are both 10 now.

That’s about all! I’ve made it a goal to do better about keeping up with the stories, which means I’ll tell myself no wine until the blog is done. . . that should provide some motivation!

Incident: Lobbing a Freedom Fry (they came from McDonalds, so they certainly aren’t French!) at the Bigger Captor in the truck on the way back to Hungary from Italy.

Bigger Captor: OLIVER?!? Did you just throw a fry at me???

Smaller Captor: NO!! I swear I didn’t throw a fry. I don’t throw fries!

Me: Chuckle

Bigger Captor: It was you?! Why would you throw a fry at me?

Me: I didn’t “throw” it, I “whung” it.

Bigger Captor: Whats the difference? And why would you do that?

Me: Because you deserved it, more or less.

Bigger Captor: Listen here miss, this isn’t your HHR. There will not be 6 year old French Fries hanging out in this truck!

Me: That’s absurd. I didn’t own the HHR for 6 years.

 

It was at that point that I just sat and stared at the man. He never ceases to amaze me.

Today, February 4th, is the Smaller Captor’s 8th birthday! I can’t believe he’s getting so big. It seems like a few weeks ago he was as small as the Tiniest Captor. And now look at him! He’s huge and more teeth are falling out of his head!

My sweet boy and little princess!

If you’ve met my darling, imagination-the-size-of-Texas boy, you’ll know that the kid adores Legos. He has tons of them. And I always find them with my feet. . .

For his birthday, I decided to attempt to redeem myself for the parent-of-the-year award and go all Betty Freakin Crocker and make him his birthday cake. (This is merely because I am about 6,000 miles away from the nearest Albertson’s bakery.) So I made him a Lego block cake! You can make all different sizes of Lego blocks to make the cake with, but really there are only 3 of us who would be eating said cake, and we don’t need to have an entire foundations worth of Lego brick cake blocks sitting on the counter.

Let me tell you something. . . you use jet puffed marshmallows to make the Lego bumps (which is freaking clever as all hell, thanks internets!) The trick is, you have to frost them BEFORE you put them on the cake, which brings us to the title. There is no effing good way to frost a marshmallow. The frosting gets everywhere, and then you have to try and get it on the cake without finger smudges on the marshmallow or the cake!  There is only so much finger frosting licking a girl can handle for one day.

The sugar has gone straight to my brain and my fingers look as if I’ve been smashing smurfs!

Here is the result though!

Booyah! Lego cake!!

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Aren’t I the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?

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Before my trip over the ocean with the Tiniest Tolin, I had a bit of a dental issue that needed to be addressed. If you’ll recall, this led me to having an unexpected root canal done in Sigmaringen, Germany.

It was over with just as quickly as it had sprung up, and for that, I was thankful. What I wasn’t thankful for however, was the fact that I was told I’d need a permanent filling and they couldn’t do it just then, that I’d have to get it done in the States because they were closing for 2 weeks for Christmas and New Years. WHO GETS TO DO THAT?!?!

I don’t like going to the dentist more than I have to- to begin with. So an extra trip to the masochistic jerk faces (no offense to you dental folks out there, I’m sure you’re lovely people, I just don’t have an affinity for your profession) was really not my idea of fun.

Well apparantly, the dental gods thought it would be a good time to screw with me, because I get to the dental place in Cheyenne, they take a look at an x-ray and tell me that I did not in fact have a root canal done. WTF? YES, YES I DID! There were lots of needles, weird screw looking deals, a cable and a beepy box thing, more needles. . . you get the idea. If that was not a root canal, they  must have been  aliens and they probably put a probe in my brain. It’s only a matter of time before they come back for me!! Someone call Scully and Mulder, quick!!! SAVE ME!!!

I digress, they said I’d need an actual root canal done as opposed to the brain probe procedure and that I’d have to come back. Of course they quickly called ANOTHER dentist who does the root canals, because they apparently, don’t do them. How ever so convenient. . .

I was to go see this one at 12:30. Fantastic.  Well, this one calls my dental insurance to figure out my coverage. Clever, let’s see how much we can charge to implant another brain probe! (probably anyway) As it turns out, my dental coverage is $199 per day. PER DAY. So the root canal was going to cost me $862 dollars out of my own pocket cause I totally have that just laying around and that was unaffordable. Not to mention the other dentist had already swooped in and taken their share of my daily limit with their x-ray. So it would probably cost even more.  THEN, the receptionist says, “We can just do an extraction, and that would be cheaper.”

Yes, because I didn’t have enough hillbilly in my life, I want to have a gaping hole in my mouth. I don’t freakin think so.  It would not have been one of those teeth that’s hidden and as most of you know, I talk a lot. You do the math. An implant to fix said hole would cost thousands more than the re-root canal. . .

Needless to say, I said never mind, I’ll just wait till I get back to Europe and figure it out there. Then I went out the car and promptly cried for 30 minutes.  I just hope my tooth doesn’t fall out on it’s own before I find someone here!  So stay tuned for tooth fairy part three, or maybe deux and a half.

We’ll see.

The long awaited tale of exciting world travel is here! It’s full of dragon slaying, mystery solving, princesses, and adventure! Ok, not so much, it’s more like- full of confused airport personnel, terrified looking neighboring passengers, and lots of juggling bags, bottles and a baby. I am a walking circus all on my own. Tickets for admission should have been sold, I could have made a killing!

With no further adieu, I present, “Halfway Around The World In 16 Hours.”

* a disclaimer. . . the flight was 16 hours, the total day, so much more than that! This accounting will tally up the total time, or at least attempt to, because I’m not even sure what the total count was. All I know is- tired is, as tired does, which is to promptly pass out in the vehicle of the person who was kind enough to pick up your sorry, ridiculous-amount-of-luggage-hauling, jet-lagged, and  probably-in-need-of-a-shower-self (cause lets be real here, no one gets done traveling across the globe looking glamorous, and those who say they do, are full of shit are fooling no one) I’d bet money that even Mariah Carey,  the diva of all divas might smell a tad bit like an onion after a trip like this.  Not that she’d ever do a trip like this, or handle her own baby/luggage/customs forms/etc, but if she did, Onion-Mariah for sure.

4am Sigmaringen Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

It’s dark, like blacker than the inside of a cow out there kind of dark. Why the hell am I awake? What is that noise? Why can’t I find the alarm? How does the Bigger Captor sleep through EVERYTHING?!? I suddenly remember I am flying today, how in the hell could I forget that? Didn’t I just spend all day yesterday packing up the family while the Bigger Captor went skiing? (He says it’s my matronly duty to be the family packer- I call bullshit.)

6:18 am Sigmaringen Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

We’re now 18 minutes behind schedule, I can’t find my shoes and my english muffin is cold. Ugh.

6:28am Sigmaringen Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

We are FINALLY in the truck and on the way. The GPS is actually working this morning, which is a huge surprise because usually it has a temperament and when it’s cold, gives us the proverbial middle finger and tries to send us off to Siberia.

8:12am Stuttgart Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

Made it to the airport relatively unscathed- parking lot was empty, so getting the truck in there was actually easy.  We finally get the bags unloaded, the baby in the stroller and into the terminal. The line for the ticket counter is a tad bit daunting, but thanks to the miles plus status of my benefactor, I get to use the premium line (Ha ha! Take that suckers!) But in reality, this is only good for them getting to tell me I am screwed out of the bassinet  I had reserved faster than if I had just waited in the other line.  Understandably, there are only so many oxygen masks per row, and you can’t have two babies in one row or one won’t get  an oxygen mask should “sudden cabin pressure loss occur.”  I say let them duke it out, winner takes all, but the airlines don’t share my sentiment. At any rate, they comped me a free seat next to me so I could keep her in her bucket, which was just as awesome.

9:12am Stuttgart Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

They’re calling for boarding and I’m not even through security yet! Had to make the obligatory  drain-the-boobs stop, otherwise I might experience some sudden cabin pressure loss of my own.

As a first time traveler with an infant, there are some things you should know! They want the bucket and the stroller to go through the x-ray (sans baby of course) then they want to check your milk, the breast pump, and every nook and cranny of your backpack, all while your infant is protesting VERY loudly and your husband is yelling at you over the crowd that your flight is boarding (I can clearly hear them, Bigger Captor!!!) Everyone is frazzled and you are starting to look like an entertaining show for the crowd around you.

The next stop is passport control, which is just another term for gaggle and a half! The agent is very confused as to why the Tiniest Captor didn’t have any stamps in her passport. “How did she get here?” he asks. “They won’t accept this in the USA” he then says.  I smile the best smile I can and say, “She was born in Austria, she’s never been anywhere before.”  He still looked confused.  I then  point to the part on her passport that said BORN IN AUSTRIA. He isn’t convinced, and spends the next 3 minuets silently staring at her passport before finally putting an exit stamp in it and handing it back.

10:05am Stuttgart Germany CET (Central European Time) UTC +1

On board, baby is settled and we are outta here.

**The flight was easy, the Tiniest Captor only had one 60 second squeak out session towards the end but that was all. The big giant ugly baby who got my bassinet row up front however screamed THE ENTIRE FLIGHT. So glad I wasn’t them! The Tiniest Captor was a complete angel compared to that kid. Though, if I had a head as big as that kid did, I’d probably scream too.

01:15pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

Landed, woo-hoo! Finally back on the terf of good ol’ USA.

01:40pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

Waiting on a REALLY cold jet way for the stroller that was gate checked. Gate agent comes in to say it’s too icy to bring up the stroller, though two guys clearly JUST WALKED UP THE STAIRS.  Resigned to our fate, we start the trek to customs, only to get there and see that the line is 15 miles long. AWESOME.

02:15pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

The same gate agent comes and plucks me out of line, and I’m thinking oh awesome, nothing like a good cavity search at customs with a baby. But then she apologizes for not getting the stroller and cuts me to the front of the line at the next agent. Sweet deal!, Except I can feel the hate and anger of 1500 people at my back. I don’t dare turn around or their gazes will surely cut me into a 1,000 pieces or worse. It is New Jersey after all. I mentally make plans to vacate the premises and get to my next gate as quickly as possible in hopes of avoiding a confrontation with the angry Asian lady who I was put in front of.

02:30pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

Wendy’s bacon cheeseburger in hand. GOD BLESS AMERICA

03:00pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

Clearing security AGAIN, but I am on to their little games and am well prepared this time! Except just as I went to reach and put the stroller on the belt, I get a charlie horse in the arch of my foot! Those my friends, can be deadly. Just an FYI. Again, I look like a freak show for my fellow passengers.

04:25 pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

Boarding finally starts for my next flight. Upon entry I find my seat and tell a very annoyed looking man that I am in the window seat next to him. I think he might be the one to try and toss us out at 42,000 ft. He is one grumpy individual. I hope Tiny Tolin poops on him.

The lady in the aisle seat just got bumped to first class, Grumpy Man looks even more Grumpy. Maybe if he weren’t so grumpy they would have offered it to him. Now Grumpy Man has moved over and taken the aisle seat. Good, at least there is a buffer zone now, though it will be much harder to get poop on him. . .

04:45 pm Newark NJ, USA EST (Eastern Standard Time) UTC -5

We’re finally out of here, though I’m pretty sure I just watched the ground crew break my stroller. The guy picked it up and now the tray is swinging. . .  it’s not supposed to swing. shit AWESOME.

07:05 pm Denver Co, USA MST (Mountain Standard Time) UTC -7

FINALLY HERE!!! Except they’re telling us we don’t have a gate. I’ll just pop the door and use the emergency slide, thank-you-very-much. The other natives on the plane are restless, many of them have connections that we are watching pull back and roll away. Sucks to be them.

07:15 pm Denver Co, USA MST (Mountain Standard Time) UTC -7

Now we have a gate! But the jet way is broken. . . SERIOUSLY?!? Oh well, I don’t have a connecting and the Tiniest Captor hasn’t made a peep the whole flight. Take that Grumpy Man! I hope you get a splinter!

07:25 pm Denver Co, USA MST (Mountain Standard Time) UTC -7 (03:25am CET- 23 hours of traveling so far)

Off the plane and my stroller is most definitely broken. Fantastic, THANK YOU UNITED AIRLINES. Cause guess what? Strollers are the one item they DON’T cover. Jerk heads. I hope you guys get splinters, too!

The rest of the trip home was pretty much a blur and I don’t remember parts of it. I was too tired and couldn’t hold my eyes open with toothpicks if I had to. Joals and I got some food at a BBQ joint and then kept on rolling. I of course, passed out in the car. I don’t even remember doing it. I’ve never been so drunk that I’ve passed out like that, so I think I hit a new level of epic tired.

11:15pm Cheyenne Wy, USA MST (Mountain Standard Time) UTC -7 (07:15am CET- 27 hours of traveling)

Let the screwed up sleep schedules of myself and the Tiniest Captor begin!

This girl is on fire, this girl is on fiiirreeee. . .

Ok, no this has nothing to do with the Alicia Keys song. I’m not even sure what that song is about anyway. It seems that most of the lyrics are “This girl is on fire.” They leave a lot to be explained.

THIS particular girl is on fire due to some unknown cause. Flu? Infection from the root canal? Some have suggested something related to the birth of the Tiniest Captor? The theories abound!

Being sick these last 36 hours has taught me a few things, and I’d like to share these nuggets of wisdom with you. Go ahead and say it, I am a sage!

1. Flu shots. (I’m not sure this IS the flu, but just in case)

I didn’t get a flu shot this year, mainly because the country of Hungary didn’t get all that many and we’re sort of low on the pole in terms of priority there. I normally get a flu shot and will get one when I go stateside next week. I know some people get all bent out of shape about immunizations, but for me, I’m not convinced that they cause more harm than good.  I’ll say this though, I enjoy not having polio, I enjoy not having TB, and I enjoy not having the measles. I would also enjoy NOT having the flu, if that’s what this is.

Lesson of this blurb? Sometimes the grass IS greener on the other side, and sometimes it’s only greener because of the phosphorus used in the fertilizer. Doesn’t make the grass any better.

2. A trained killer can’t resist a baby.

I bet your mind just screamed WHAT!? or something better. . .  In our case the trained killer is the Tiniest Tolins uncle, and he seems to be able to put the baby to sleep/at ease just by picking her up. (Especially when she wants nothing to do with her parents) Crazy to think that someone who can tote around heavy guns meant for serious business can also tote around an 8lb baby like he had been doing it all his life. He has the Midas touch, except he doesn’t turn everything to gold, a gold baby would be  heavy!  But at least he doesn’t have the poopy touch either, cause that would just be gross.

Lesson of this blurb?  Babies, especially the Tiniest Captor, can charm the pants off of anyone.  Manly men stand no chance around her! 7 weeks old and she already gets what she wants from whom she wants it! This may suck when she’s 16. . .

3. You CAN work out and be sick too.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is full of crap. How do I know this? Because after shivering for hours on end, my muscles all feel like I ran the New York Marathon, which is really saying something, because other than sprinting after the dogs 2 weeks ago when they escaped, I haven’t run in months! Cardio and muscle training all in one easy step!

Lesson of this blurb? You don’t need Beachbody or one of those crazy work-out video packages. Just get a good fever, shiver your muscles into shape, then sweat to death once the shivers stop. Oh, side bonus, you won’t have an appetite, so you’re sure to lose weight fast!

There might be other lessons in all of this, but frankly my brain has boiled, so I can’t think of any more.  Perhaps you are thankful for that.