The Subtle Way Pakistan Haunts Me

6 months removed from a year in Pakistan and some difficult and unexpected consequences of time away from family are just now fully manifest.

A quote from a parenting book Katie and I are presently reading and trying to implement will set the scene: "Pouting is a passive behavior that is designed to make you (the parent) feel guilty.  If you do feel guilty when your child pouts, that's really more your problem."

But you see, I just couldn't help it.  Psychologically, after a year a way, I simply could not resist the slightest pouting.  Even if I wanted to, it was impossible.  Predictably, I reinforced sub optimal child behaviors as I tried to recover from the strange "We all know and agree I had to go but I still feel totally guilty for leaving you alone" sensation.  Predictably, this frustrated Katie.

So yes, I felt guilty when my children pouted.  I felt guilty even when they didn't.  Yes, this is my problem.  Now it is also Katie's problem.

On the bright side, when one is blessed with kids (and wife) who are fundamentally good, these problems can be resolved.

Teach Daughter About Ambition, Check

I think most visiting my blog are LDS and will apprehend "fast Sunday" and all that implies.  Just in case, however, a quick overview:  We Mormons take one Sunday a month and skip meals, donating the economic value of the food to charity.  This practice is also accompanied by prayer, usually for a bit of clarity about a difficult life decision or for the receipt of a desired object or outcome.

In Cairo, we have Fast Friday.  During the most recent such Friday, the kids asked why I wasn't eating.  Mormon readers, feel free to pass judgment that we had not already explained everything and trained them to skip meals as well.  So I gave them some version of the above paragraph.  Following which, they asked, "So what are you praying for?"

My response, "Three things that I always pray for.  First, that all three of you will go to college.  Any college is fine, but BYU would be really great."

Their response, "Of course, who wouldn't go to BYU?"  At which point I did a mental fist pump.

"Second, that you will marry someone nice.  Third, that you will serve missions."

At which point Madeline burst into tears and ran to her bedroom.  This was unexpected as she had previously expressed interest in going on a mission.

So, of course, I followed her and asked what was wrong.

"Why are you praying for me to do something I don't want to do?"

"I thought you wanted to.  You don't have to."

"I'm not going on a mission.  My mission is to be an executive with Disney.  I already have a mission."

Um, wow.  My response could best be described as incredulity mixed with admiration.  Would that I had such clarity at age 8.  "Then that's your mission.  I will pray for that."

A Well Executed Floor Spin

So Bad It Hertz

So I neglected to mention that I rented a car while in Jordan.  I rented it from the guy with a desk and a cell phone in the hotel lobby.  Good hotel, so I assumed, normal rental car company.  That's called foreshadowing.

He didn't give me any kind of receipt or anything when I made the reservation.  Should have been first clue.  I reserved it with my hotel room number.  You see, but then due to a long story, the hotel moved me to a new room.  Didn't occur to me to inform the rental car guy and his cell phone.

So when I finished work on the appointed Friday and returned to the hotel to pick up the car to pick up Katie and the kids from the airport (which turns out to be about 90 minutes from downtown Amman), there was no car.  You see, when the guy attempted to confirm the reservation, he couldn't find anyone in the previous room.  Precious time ticked away.

At length, a car arrived.  But not my car.  The guy said to get in his car and he would drive me to my car, which I assumed would be close.  It wasn't.  I didn't know how to get back to the hotel from my new car.  Not to worry, said the guy, you can just leave from here and go straight to the airport and you'll make it just in time.  Alas, my driver's license, passport, cash, cell phone and other items necessary to depart for the airport were back at the hotel on account of my not realizing I would be driven several miles therefrom.

So I meandered my way back to the hotel with only one wrong turn, retrieved said necessary items, and then began meandering my way to the airport, already late to pick up Katie.  Turns out the way to the airport is not as direct as I had imagined.  A few wrong turns later, I was on my way.

Turns out the guy gave me the car on empty.  Turns out gas stations are not easy to find in Amman.  Then I started getting texts from another guy saying he was with my wife and that she was on the corner thumbing for a ride.  So I was looking for a gas station, trying to read mostly Arabic street signs, and trying to text to some strange guy to tell Katie I was on my way.

Anyway, it was awesome.  Then I got lost on the way back to the hotel and we drove all over Amman. At length, I stopped at a gas station and found a man in a Mercedes MacLaren who spoke English.  He said he would drive to our hotel and that I could follow him.  Suddenly I was in Le Mans racing around Amman in my rented Mazda 3 at about 100 mph chasing this Mario Andretti.  At length, I recognized some landmarks and knew the way.

On the final hill to the hotel, the Mazda 3 gave up the ghost.  Dead.  100 yards from the hotel.

Don't rent a car in Amman from the guy with the cell phone.

(But chasing the MacLaren was fantastic.)