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Chinese Playground

Many things in China (well, to be fair, I can only speak to southern China) are bigger and plasticy-er than we’re used to in the US.  And there may be no better example than the playground we went to today.

(I think that I’ve just made it my goal to investigate playgrounds, country by country.  Which is highly ironic because truth be told, I DO NOT like playgrounds.  Never have.  Perhaps I have unhealed wounds from the time, in kindergarten, when I was punched dead in the gut while peacefully hanging from a giant ring and came crashing to the ground having had the wind knocked out of me for the first time.  Perhaps it’s the stomach virus or hand, foot, and mouth disease lurking around every corner.  Or maybe it’s the chit chatty mom’s corner.)

At any rate, I’ve sucked up my dislike and do indulge mis hijos as often as I can [muster up the will power].

And behold, Chinese plastic-blow-up playground:

This may very well not represent Chinese playgrounds in the slightest, for which I have no proof at this juncture…more research is required.  HOWEVER, at least here in humid southern China, it seems very fitting that the only thing resembling a playground was found on the basement level of a modern mall.  Next to a Walmart.  Behind a spattering of decaying brick buildings.

 

Current Adventure: China Business Trip

We tagged along with Daddy on a Chinese business trip.  Much of our trip has had the kids in a position not unlike that of zoo animals, where everyone wants to pet, say hi to, take pictures of/with, and hold.  It goes something like this:

and this:

Safari now repeats my comment of “they like to pet [me] and say hi to [me] and take pictures with [me]”.  I’m not sure they’d turn out as very well balanced kids if we raised them in this environment, though I can’t imagine that they’d be quite as captivating as their hair darkened and grew out of their baby chub.  The littlest one, Denali, by the way, is MORE than agreeable to be picked up by a woman, passed around to all of her friends, then pose for said woman’s husband to take eighteen photos of his cute little squishy white cheeks.

We’ve debated charging a fee to photograph our brood, but thus far, they’ve only been paid in chocolate milk and various sketchy hard Chinese candies that may or may not have come out of a wrapper.

 

 

My Very First Blogging

Sounds like a form of mideveil torture or a type of cock fight.  I’ve always hated (no, that’s not a word I encourage my 3 year old to use – see below reference) the first page of a journal.  Too much pressure to find the right words to kick off an entire segment of ones life.  And well, this post feels like that times a million.

I created this blog to satisfy my own need to 1) be actually doing something seemingly productive while I waste away time in front of my computer, as my 18 month old tries to pry my fingers off the keyboard and 2) as an outlet to use words that I’m trying desperately to dissolve from my current vocabulary due to a 3 year old parrot-child I live with.  And I suppose I should also add in a 3), for which my husband will be proud as my lists generally end at 2 or B… 3) to document/chronicle our life adventures.

Perhaps reason #0 (the first, most important) should be my desire to dish out my greatest challenge in life; reconciling how to be me AND a mom.  How even though sometimes I want to get in the car and drive until I’m safely in Mexico, that I love these beings with every drop of blood in me and in reality, can’t stand to be away for more than a few hours (or days, who am I kidding).  How to find the sacred balance of self fulfillment and raising awesomely well-adjusted children.

So, let’s take a ride.  See where my personal journey will take our family adventures and where our family adventures will take my personal journey.  Because, after all, the two are now inextricably linked.