We seem to have moved past all the sniping and angst of the the past 48 hours. Perhaps it is the promise of life in Shangri-la in a cookie cutter Tudor manse? To be honest, I had a fleeting moment of doubt as we drove by the other faux French, Spanish, and British models. Had I picked the wrong one? Then I remembered it was the square footage and big kitchen for which I was aiming. For the first time in 12 years I will have a refrigerator that makes and dispenses ice, air conditioning to combat the 95 degree/100 percent humidity, and and a bathtub in my bathroom that I did not have to negotiate for after living in a house two years! The oven, however, has only one rack (with an additional device for roasting a chicken, should one feel up to trussing). I AM SO HAPPY! Rumor has it 50 families are moving in during the next two weeks, families with about 4 children each, families from America. This can only mean that we have moved into the Catholic/Mormon expat ‘hood. I can’t wait to buy my children bikes so they can ride around, bugging other mothers.

Years of living in rented houses in Latin America prepared us well for our first disaster. When we arrived yesterday morning to deliver sackfuls of items previously ferried over from Brazil, having spent the night in the service apartment, Thing 1 spied a gigantic leak on the ground floor, seeping through the paint and plasterboard.

“This,” I said to myself with equanamity, “is why we live in a development.” Mr. Understanding text messaged the relocation girl who called the developer. Within half an hour 5 men were at our house, chattering in Chinese, and diagnosing the problem. It was fixed, or so they say, by 7 p.m. last night, even the holes in the plasterboard. Miraculous!

Before leaving the house (with workmen in it!) for lunch at, I thought I’d make a pit stop in Thing 1’s bathroom. Years of Latin American living has also prepared me to look at toilet seats before sitting, even ones with paper bands proclaiming them sanitized. The speckled seat first drew my attention; evidently men not lifting toilet seats to do their business is a universal condition. Imagine my surprise when, peering into the bowl, I saw little black things wiggling about in the water. Thing 3 arrived and proclaimed solemnly, “Tadpoles.” Good thing I’d packed those handy dandy Chlorox wipes in the suitcase. With great aplomb, Thing 1 cleaned the toilet and went back to life.

Today Mr. U has to go back to his paid job. I am back to liking him so will miss him. The rest of us are cleaning, unpacking, and going to the police station so we can stay in the country legally. We might go see if the Minnesotans who moved in 2 streets down are around (they only have 2 kids). We also need to make another foray to the dreaded Carrefour (I saw my first naked baby in a shopping cart there yesterday).

In closing, I am off to pour myself another cup of Starbucks coffee from my brand new Braun coffee maker. I ground the beans with my new grinder. Things could be a lot worse. I am just waiting to see what crawls out of the toilet today. Maybe we can have it for supper? This might just be my new way to meal plan. When in Rome …



Filed under Family, Fine Dining, Life, Luggage, Moving, People, Princessdom

6 responses to “Tadpoles

  1. Mood Ring Momma

    I want to know why this wasn’t filed under “Tadpoles”.

  2. Expat:
    Have been thinking of you a lot lately. I can’t believe this post. I would crap my pants.

    The bear in your previous post is nearly identical to the bear I put on my post of yesterday – I hadn’t seen your post and you couldn’t have seen mine. Further proof we are the same person.

  3. Flaky Friend

    I’m so glad you guys are there; I hope for your sake it’s a Catholic community. Yesterday during the homily at mass our priest was talking about how one of Charles Kuralts’ favorite cities was New Orleans. He noted that it was fun because Catholics started it. In New Orleans if one goes to confession and confesses to gluttony the priest might respond “where?”. So, get ready to eat, drink and be merry.

    Take care and I’m glad you guys are there safe and sound.

  4. MRM: not sure I understand your comment.

    Leezer: Thinking of you too, for many reasons. I still cannot see either your bear or mine. I am glad I am you living next to my sisters.

    Flaky Friend: not so much a Catholic community as Buddhist. I like your story though! I am sure I will find the Irish soon enough.

  5. Raftbuddy

    My favorite quote in this is “I am back to liking him so will miss him”. Frigging hysterical, and oh so true for us long-married types. My third child would have insisted on scooping out the tadpoles and raising them. Unbelievable!

  6. Winnie

    Please, please, flush before you lift the lid …. I will not have my grandbabies dining on plumbing plunder!

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