Full Proof Plan...most of the time.

Could have sworn I had a fool proo system. 

My plan:

Wait 5 minutes after a fart before changing him.  Gives him time to work the rest out so we don't waste diapers or effort.  It's brilliant really.  So after a large wet one, we listen to him grunting and squeezing so loud you can hear him in the next room, for at least 5 minutes.  Gotta listen closely too in case you miss a fart.  If there is a fart, reset the clock.  

Well, that doesn't always work. Changed his diaper, and luckily I got the other one on before a massive explosion.  Not a bad success rate though.  Perhaps make it 10 minutes next time?

Write this down: 3 week olds can flip over during tummy time.  Especially if they used to be a ninja in their past life.

Everybody poops

When people tell you baby poop doesn't smell until they start eating solid foods....they're lying to you.  It smells.  Good news is, you don't care.  As a former guidance counselor and community center director wrote...You eagerly await it.  When it happens it means their digestive tract works.

Note to self:

Note to self:

If you hold your infant at a decline...yes even a slight one...if he decides to pee....it's getting all over you.

Note to self

Note to self:

Babies don't speak english.  They also don't take visual cues.  Sneezing WILL scare the shit out of them.

Welcome to the world Leon.  10/4/16, weighing in at 5 lbs 15 oz & 19 inches long.  Leo the Lion.

Hapkido time

Just some Hapkido warm ups, kicks, and messing around.

Bus Stop Ridicule

I was standing at the bus stop outside of a Homeplus (a Walmart type place) after just finishing teaching.  There was a mom and a 3 year old girl standing under the awning with me.    The girl was jumping around and singing an English song, no doubt that she learned at her school.  She was also looking at me while she was singing it.  She is the same age and size of my students so I had to tell her good job.  "Good job", I said to her.  Of course she looks up at me with an unsure expression, as all Korea kids do after they try to get your attention and succeed.

I said to her "high five" and presented my hand for her to slap.  My students love this very much...that and touching my arm "fur"...or as they say it "puh".  The little girl of course didn't slap my hand...but instead did something MUCH better.  She looked up at her mother, and then me, and said in Korean "pervert".  I couldn't believe this little 3 year old girl called me that.  I started laughing really hard because this little girl had some big balls.  Her mother gasped, as if she couldn't believe that her little angel even knew that word. 

I went back to reading my book but still standing next to them waiting for the bus.  About a minute later the little girl turned to me and, again in Korea, demanded to know who I was.  I told her "I'm Jake teacher."  Then she said something else to her mother which I didn't understand, but it had to not be nice because her mother covered her mouth and whisked her onto the bus that came a little too late.

It was very very funny. 

Loss

When you lose someone, anyone, it's never an easy thing.  My grandmother recently passed away and I have been stuck here in Korea.  I tried to get home but even the earliest, most expensive flight, wouldn't have gotten me home in time for the funeral.  I wished money didn't rule my choices as much as it does.  It was really hard the first day I heard, but like any pain, it gets easier and less painful every day after. 

She was a holocaust survivor.  The last person in my family that bore that proud title.  Losing a piece of history makes her passing even harder on the living.  I would like to think she is somewhere better or more peaceful.  We will all eventually find out.

The only thing that made me feel better is being able to write something for my father to read at her funeral.  I'll end this post with that eulogy:



I regret that I've missed so much since I've been out here, but most of all I regret not being able to be in this room with all of you, for possibly the saddest reason.  We tried to get a flight for me but there wasn't anything, and it pains me to even have to make an excuse.  If you knew my grandma you know that she had one of the toughest lives possible.  Tougher than any of us want to imagine.  But, she found love after hate, and created her own family for her to play her part in.  Two generations later she because the Jewish Grandmother.  Her job description was simple.  Be the target of my Poppi's jokes, make chicken soup and all our favorite foods, and all the while, do it with love and affection.  No matter how mean the jokes got, or how messy the apartment was, or how much I played with her soft, saggy, old lady skin on the underside of her arm...when we caught her eye she smiled. She would never even sit down to eat the dinner she cooked because she worried that we wouldn't enjoy the food, or not have enough of it...which was never the case. 

She had so much love and so much pride from her grandchildren.  Even something as mundane as sitting at her old plexi glass table, she would always grab my hand and kiss it.  She would grab my face and kiss my cheek if it was within her grasp.  After my Poppi died she closed up.  The phone calls got even shorter than the regular 1 minute "how are you, I'm fine, O.K I love you" ones, and she shrunk into herself and her grief.  It was another dark chapter in her life.  But the last few years, after my brother finished his book about my grandparents holocaust story, she brightened up.  It's like her protective shell cracked and the light flooded through again.  I remember the first phone call we had after that.  We must have talked for 10 minutes.  I think that was an all time record.  She lived the last couple of years of her life as content as she could have been, and that thought makes me as content as I can be. 

Some Memories:

I will miss her answering machine messages.  Especially when they were first invented.  My family and I would go on vacation and each time we came home there would be about 10 messages all starting the same way.  "Sam???  Hello???  Are you there??? Noah??? Hello???"  and then ending in various ways.  My favorite ending was always "O.k, leave me alone god damn it." *click*. She just didn't get it.

I will miss her Leon necklace and the donation can on her plexi glass table.

I will miss being shtooped money for no reason other than being her grandson.

I will miss the family get-togethers at her apartment.

I will miss being asked if I want to eat again 10 minutes after we ate dinner, and then 10 minutes again after she asked me if I wanted to eat the last time.

I will miss being pined over and all the funny stories about what she did this time and who she offended.

I will miss her incredibly crooked signatures on my birthday cards because her hand wouldn't stop shaking when she signed them.

I will miss her strength.

I will miss her. 

Her story has been written down and will live on in myself and my family.  We all learned something from her in one way or another, and my family's future generations will learn too.  That thought comforts me. 

Muddy BASTARDS 2010 MUDFEST

Every year, for the last 3 years, there is a festival in Boryeong, S. Korea called simpley "Mud Fest".  I'm sure you can imagine what it's like, but just in case your imagination is currently lacking, I shall describe it a bit for you. 

IMAGINE:
A quiet beachfront city, with a nice long beach wheretwo rock bluffs stand on each side.  The sand is made up of shells broken down over thousands of years, but still not experienced enough to be fine, soft sand.  The wind blows from the cold sea over the hot land and cools those who stroll on the sea-view road.  The sun sets over the water as the reflection of colors bounce up into your eyes and illuminate a serene and calming piece of the brain....then BAM!  July 17th rolls around and buses roll in.  The local Koreans line the street selling everything from rooms to suntan lotion to condoms.  From the sand grows sculptures created by master artists.  The giant inflatable pool and obstacle courses get filled with air and mud.  The older crowd starts to lock their doors at night and sleep with earplugs in.  The inflatable slide get's blown up just like the hopes of the Korean store owners, who can make their yearly quota in two weekends. 

Mudfest begins.  From the buses come Koreans and Foreigners alike.  From cars come photographers and bystanders who hope just to watch.  The cardboard clad floors of the beachfront convenience stores lay silent as the immense stock of alcohol waits to be imbibed.  The air is about to erupt with amazingness.

Enough with the imagery.  There are pools and pools of mud, mud prisons, mud slides, mud courses, mud jousting, mud art, colored mud for body painting, and most importantly, mud covered people. There is about 1/2 a mile of activities boarding the beach.  On the beach is a stage with non-stop entertainment and a fireworks show later at night.  On the obstacle courses, there are lines where people wait for hours for a 2 second ride.  But I prefer the pools.  There is a full contact mosh pit in constant motion.  If you go in, be prepared to get tackled.  As a former rugby player and wrestler, this is my zen garden of happiness.  Boys and girls walk in and exchange tackles sans animosity.  If you tackle someone, when you turn around expect one back.  Hell, I personally run around the outside of the inside of the pool and tear people down.  I even started outside the pool and did a flying jesus onto as many people I could grab inside the pool...more than once.  Every once in a while I had to stop to bring my waterproof camera to the wash station and clean the tiny particles out of the lens cover.  But I went right back in with spewing anticipation.

I was in heaven.

After I had my share of peaceful violence, I made my way to the beach to clean up.  It's fun to walk around the hoards of people because you see people there you haven't seen for a while. You find them randomly in the crowd, covered in mud, and then you have a nice little reunion.  It's cool to go down into the ocean after you are finished to wash off the mud. 

Later that night there was a party thrown by the group I went with.  I was on the way when I saw these 10 Korean dudes eating Sam Gyup Sal (basically pork strips) and drinking Soju.  Naturally, I went over to them and introduced myself.  I spent the next 1.5 hours drinking and eating with them, alst the while practicing my Korean, which has gotten pretty good since my lessons began (but not THAT good). Some friends saw me but didn't join because they couldn't keep up with the language.  I eventually invited them to my party, but there weren't many other Koreans so they felt uncomfortable.  They went back.  I partied.  After a while I remember thinking to myself "that's it, I've had ENOUGH", and I mosied on back to where I was sleeping. 

The next morning I woke up and felt like I got hit by a truck (as you can see from the picture below, the guy was the size of a truck).  I went to the beach, ate a yummy pork backbone stew, and went home by bus.