Maddie Sings Hanukkah Song at Mormon Christmas Party in Egypt

Yes, I realize I should buy a better pair of jeans, but please, this should be about Maddie...and a little bit about Henry's stage presence.

Death by Soccer (Yes, I'm THAT Parent)

The soccer season came to a welcome close on Saturday with a round robin tournament dubbed "Death by Soccer" by a witty parent with multiple children involved.  Caleb's tournament was 8 am to 11:30 and Maddie's was 11:30 to 4 pm.

Caleb's team opened the day with a 0-0 draw against the top team (whose coach helpfully pointed out that while the league does not count individual goals, if it did, his son would be the league leader with 52 goals on the season).  Then a few nice wins.  Caleb played great.  He's not much of a scoring threat, but in a league with no goalies, his defense wins games.

Then we played the push, shove, and tackle team that took out two of our guys on illegal slide tackles.  Here I also pause to note that in this league, coaches double as referees, which places them on the field during the game.  The coach of this team placed himself right in front of the goal whenever the opposition would approach.  Handy tactic.  When this was brought to his attention, he laughed it off with "Oh, I just get out of the way if they kick the ball."  Right.  Because seeing you there, they won't try to kick around you, clearly.

A few games later, we had a rest period and were spectators while the team with the goal tending coach played another match.  The game was tied and his team needed a win to make the finals.  Suddenly, the coach of the illegal slide tackle team started calling fouls!  Against his team!  Amazing.  So I wasn't too impressed and started really wanting him to lose.

Game tied, their top player makes a break away toward the goal, opposition giving chase.  The time keeper calls time.  No one hears.  Players collide.  They fall.  Time keeper calls time again.  The top player from goal-tending-coach team decides to hold his ankle and cry.  At which point goal-tending-coach calls a foul and awards a penalty.  Arguments ensue.  Cheater coach places the ball for the kick.

I can't take it.  I walk onto the field yelling that time was out.  "No the foul took place first, we will end on a goal kick."

Then I really get into it and yell, "La. La. La. Mish quayes! You cheat!"  (No. No. No. Not acceptable.)

This prompts a parent from the other team to yell at me, "You can't call another adult a cheater in front of all these kids. Not in Egypt. Not in our culture. In front of these kids, you can't call him a cheater."

To which I replied, "But it's okay in your culture for him to cheat?"

Then another parent yells, "This is just a social event, and then you ruin it with these accusations."

To which I replied, "No, he ruined it by cheating."

It was great.  Katie really loved it.

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.)

Marketing Exercise

So I'm a big fan of marketing and brands.  As such, on a lark, I attempted to pick five brands that would give a good sense of our family even if you knew nothing else about us.  Here's what I came up with (in no particular order):

1. Disney
2. BYU
3. Apple
4. Red Sox
5. Star Alliance

Then one clarifying brand for each individual:

Katie: Snowbird
Tim: Nike
Madeline: Harry Potter
Caleb: Wild Kratts
Henry: Marvel

The Reason I Took This Job

Riding to Petra entrance.  "Dad, stop asking if I like it, I'm busy riding a horse."

Henry is sucking on the Camelbak, if you were wondering.

Horseback ride included in park entrance fee (with a $10 tip per horse)

At which point I heard these magical words: "This is the awesomest day ever!"

Henry is making Spider Man fingers, if you were wondering.

The Treasury

It's a long walk to the Monastery

Henry almost fell off the donkey, if you were wondering. Saved by his foot getting tangled in the rope.

At which point I heard these magical words: "This is like a real adventure, not a pretend adventure."

Henry fell asleep with three miles to walk back to the entrance, if you were wondering.

I was a tough negotiator and got the price down from 20 dinars to 10 for this life-saving ride back to the entrance, only to find out I only had a 20 dinar bill. Driver's lucky day.

Overlooking Jordan Valley

Entrance to Karak Castle

An ice cream-like snack

Clearly discussing something very important

That's the Dead Sea in the background

Dead Sea (and wife and daughter)

(Not) swimming in the Dead Sea

At the Dead Sea resort

At the Dead Sea besort

Jordan River baptism site

Mount Nebo

I'm a Believer

Geography increases my religiosity.  When I'm far from those I love, I yet feel connected to them.  This in turn prompts religious sentiment.  It seems I can feel my family's prayers/love/hope/faith (whatever you want to call it) as a physical thing.

I like science.  I read about science.  I especially enjoy physics and stuff about space.  I don't fully understand a lot of it, but it's cool.  So now and then some of the scientific stuff creates some confusion about how to interpret some of the religious stuff, and vice versa.

But you know what?  I just believe.  I can't really explain it and I don't think I have to.  What can I say?  I'm a believer.

Goal-Oriented or Anti-Social

So I go up to the hotel lounge to eat some eclairs and listen to the audio book of Guns, Germs, and Steel and this guy starts trying to talk to me. He's all like, "Hi, how are you?" and that sort of thing.  And I'm thinking, whoa there buddy, I have a 24 audio books-per-year goal that I'm behind on.

But do I say that?  No.  I'm all polite and stuff so I say hi back.  I even extend my hand for a shake and give my name!  Fatal error.  Never give your name to people with whom you do not want to converse.  Abort!

Too late because he's already like, "Bet you'll never guess where I live."  And then I go, "Wales?"  You know, 'cause he has an accent but I don't want to be all cliche and say London and, of course, I can't tell the difference between any of the accents over there anyway.

And then he goes, "Dallas, Texas!" and I'm all, "Wow, you got me" and he's all "I know, right?" And I'm thinking, when can I put in my earphones?

Then like a flash he's showing me photos of Petra and giving me advice about how to visit and giving me incorrect information about how far a walk it is and I don't want to tell him I've already been there and that I know he's exaggerating so I'm just nodding stupidly and stuffing eclairs into my mouth so I don't have to feel obligated to say anything.

I didn't listen to my audio book.  The eclairs were delicious.

Top 10 Songs That...

My blog and Facebook post frequency goes way up when I'm traveling.  I am presently compiling new playlists from my hotel room at the Amman Marriott.  I'm trying to come up with top 10 songs that are awesome when you imagine singing them to your kids but less so when you imagine singing them to your wife/girlfriend.  Top song on that list: "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias.

Also just discovered The Killers.  I don't know why it took me so long.  "Runaway" is, ahem, a killer song.