How many two year old do you know who love having there nose cleaned??? Exactly.... but I know one!!! He happens to be my son!! In it self it is really great that he wants his nose wiped, unfortunately he gets very loud and urgent about it: "Nose, clean! NOSE CLEAN!!!! NOOOOOSEEEE CLLEEEEEAAAAAAN!!!!" And he says it in German, which not everyone understands, so he gets frustrated with those people who seem to refuse him a tissue :o)

Do you get totally guey inside when offspring did something incredibly cute???? Do you get upset if other kids slight or reject your kid??? Are you hurting when your child does??? Is all you wanna talk about; " YOUR CHILDREN"? Congratulation, I just diagnosed you with the "mother-decease" (aka as the "father-decease". I would have NEVER EVER believed it of myself, but here I am, fully on with the mother syndrome.. my eyes water up if Ned does something incredibly cute, it might not even be something special in other people's eyes, but for me it is. For example today he found my little note book. And he started to "read" it alaod: "blahblahblah, brushing teeth...blahblahblah.... spit it out... blahblahblah... wash hands". I really couldn't recollect that I had written down our evening teeth-brushing-routineJ. Yes, I confessed before, that at times I do struggle to like the kid I love so much, and being stuck within such a moment of struggle it's hard to see the other side, but more often than not I am so absolutely crazy about those two little guys with the pretty dark eyes. And yes, there are lots of frustrations raising a child, but counting the cost (so to speak) I would much rather have them with all the struggles than living without them or never have know them.

Two of Ned's best friends are Linde and Eva and luckily they just live down the hall. Maybe their pink doll stroller was one little draw point to befriend them, but he talks about them a lot. (although sometimes he says "Silas" instead of Eva, hmmm strange). Yesterday he was here in our cabin, when all of a sudden he said: Linde, kiss!!! So we had to go down the corridor so that he could give Linde a kiss:o)))

As I said, he loves that pink stroller as well, and luckily our friends have two so Linde and Ned can play doll mummy and daddy together.

Yesterday the girls also had their bath time and they offered to make room for him in the bath tub but he preferred "shooting" them J.

Well, enough of cute offspring. Today we had the amazing privilege to go to a place called Leptis Magna. It's an ancient ruined Roman city, and I must say, those Romans did not take good care of neither their houses nor their roads (I tried to make a joke, in case you didn't get).

It's amazing!!! On Wikipedia it says:

"The site is one of the most spectacular and unspoiled Roman ruins in the Mediterranean."

Before I steal more words, you better go directly to Wikepedia and read for yourself if you are interested. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lepcis_Magna)

So, now you know more about Leptis Magna than I do and we can move on...

At this ancient Roman city I had one of those bizarre moments again: I sat down on an inscripted ancient stone and fed Ced his bottle.... I started wondering what this lump of stone had seen in its life (if rocks had eyes that is.... do rocks live???). Who had chosen this lump for whatever purpose and who had engraved it??? And where was it originally positioned and what made it fall down and serve me as a feeding-"seat" for Ced.... I'll never know, but I took a photo of the rock with Ced on it.

Ned enjoyed jumping off old ruins

there are always some things you have to do, even in old ruined cities

Daddy taxis

Well, there is still so many things to be done tonight, somehow the laundry-monster has followed me from Germany and Ben's shirts beg me to iron them. I also have get my backpack ready for tomorrow, because tomorrow we'll be going in the desert once again, this time only a one hour ride (so I was told), lunch and another hour back to the ship.

And before I let you go and do more important things than reading my waffling, I thought I'd share once more one of my "silly-Becca-thing-you-should-never-do" moments:

We do have a fridge in our cabin (PTL), and it does work (and don't worry, unlike the microwave it still works despite my silliness). It also has a tiny little freezer compartment which normally never works. Believe me, I tried to store ice cream in it once and that wasn't a good idea, honestly. So this silly freezer thing does NOT work, it doesn't even have a flap/door/thingy on it. So smart me thought I'd store my lovely Coke Zero cans in it. Bad idea. Some time during the evening I heard a little bang, bust somehow I don't seem to pay as much attention to funny noises as I used to, and didn't think anything of it. Well, when I opened the fridge to put some what in I wondered why in all the world there was brown liquid all over the fridge. I guess that you have guessed it already and you guess it right.... some of my cans had exploded and sprayed my precious Coke Zero all over the fridge... so I should go and clean that up as well, sigh.... I much rather drink the stuff than clean in out of the fridge.... grummelgrummelgrummel.... that silly freezer thing NEVER works... grummelgrummelgrummel.....

Random

I LOVE the word RANDOM, maybe because it describes me so well (at times at least). I somehow seem to say and do rather random (or should I say "silly"?) things. Ben and I love playing the game: "Now, where did that random though come from???", we try to trace back a thought to where it might have sprung from, it kind of funny, because some random thoughts which then pop out of my mouth as random words have also a rather random origins.

Anyway...

I did something rather silly the other day... and even worse I only discovered today how silly it was. I killed the microwave (here, I confessed it!!)!!! I killed it because my random brain was busy in some random way which I can't remember anymore. The only time I use the microwave is in the morning when I sterilize the baby bottles with it. I clean the bottle, put them in a special microwave-baby-bottle-sterilizer-thing, add 200ml of water, put the microwave on 800W and put it on 9 min. Well, the other day I thought I did just that, but after 2min or so, it made a funny noise, the microwave I mean, and I thought: "How strange". After another 2 min it made another funny noise, and I still thought: "How strange" when all of a sudden my brain (FINALLY) kicked into gear: "Becca, did you put the water in??" No, Becca had not put the water in, so my, or better Ced's, baby bottles were roasted for 4 in without the water which produces the steam and sterilizes the bottles. Well, previously to this little incident I did have the random thought: "Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I forgot to put the water in??". Well, now I new, the microwave makes funny noises. But to be honest, I only discovered just now, WHY the microwave made funny noises: well, something must have broken or melted and the silly thing doesn't work anymore, I only discovered because a cup of water wouldn't heat up anymore.... Becca, that was SOOOO silly.. and I guess I have to go and find some Electrician and confess to him and Hilde or Kim who organized for us to have this microwave in this cabin.... ou man!!! And then I somehow need to get a different, working microwave, because, well this one ISN'T working anymore, and we need a working one.... hmmmmmmmm.

Another random thing happened today and I am hundred percent sure that this time it was absolutely none of my doing. After lunch at around 1:30pm I put Cedric down for a nap. I kept Ned up because a bit later there was this nice "Welcome to Mizerata" thing on the quay side with horses and costumes and stuff and I wanted Ned to see it. So Ned and I waited in my friends cabin down the corridor, while Ced slept in our cabin. I had the baby phone with me though. When we were to go down to the quay side I quickly checked on Ced. He was sleeping, but the baby phone, which I had put next to his head, was laying on our bed around 2m away. I do many things which I later can not recollect, but this time I am absolutely sure that I had put the phone next to his head. Strange...

It is also rather random for me to start crocheting. I hated handcraft stuff back in my good old school time (ahhh, those were the days)... so I hadn't done it in something like 20 years, BUT my hand sill remember how it works, crazy...

Desert Experience

It was a perfect day to drive out into the Sahara desert. Not too hot (I can't stand heat) and not too windy, the only "problem" was that Ned had this aweful cold and that he as well as me had not had the best of nights. And don't think me a little winch-bag, but my arm really hurt because of the uncomfortable "sleeping" (I didn't really sleep all night) position and the funny thing the henna tattoo did to my nerves. So, understandably I wasn't in the best of moods to start with and thinking of sitting in the back of a 4W drive for the next several hours didn't improve my mood, as I do get car sick now and then.

Before we headed into the Libyan Sahara though we had to taste camel milk, freshly milked from a camel. Uhm, the thought of drinking camel milk still warm, fresh out of the camel and then later on sit in the back of a 4W drive and possibly getting carsick didn't make me toooo keen on tasting the milk, but I didn't really have a choice anyway. An old Tuareg guy (at least I think he was Tuareg) got the mother camel and bound her front leg up, so that she couldn't run away, then he got the, uhm, baby camel (???? is it a camel calf?? or camel puppy??? or camel foal??? maybe we just stick with baby camel) to drink and while the baby camel drank on one tit he milked the other one. I've never milked a cow I have to confess, but if I'm not totally mistaken, it takes quite some time to hand milk a cow and fill up a whole bucket . Man I tell you, camel milking is quite a high pressure experience and it's done quite quickly. In no time at all the bucket was full with foaming, fresh, warm camel milk and I had a cup full pressed in my hand. I did try it. It tastes very salty . I hardly ever drink just milk for the enjoyment of drinking milk. Ben's the milk-boy in our family, so you can trust his judgement that camel's milk tastes much more like cow's milk than goat milk does or sheep milk, despite the saltiness. I couldn't get down more than a couple tiny sips. If I drink milk it's either chilled or (if I'm sick) hot and with honey in it J.

I have never been truly IN the desert before (my last time in Misdah we stayed in Misdah and didn't venture out). Thinking of desert, I would automatically think of sand dunes after sand dune after sand dune. But as I was being tossed around on the backseat of our 4W drive I noticed there is a vast diversity of desert scenery. We were heading to the "typical" desert full with sand dunes, but in order to get there we first drove about 1h on normal roads and another hour on basically none excising roads through different "kinds" of desert . There were parts were everything was covered with rocks, little orange and sandy, yellowish rocks. Then there were other parts where there were small black rock evenly spread out on the dusty ground as if a couple of Neds had been busy throwing rocks and leaving them after they were finished. There were also these green brownish bushes, in some parts even green grass with a couple of sheep and goats having their lunch. And sometimes there would be a big sand pile piled up as if a truck had dumped it there. We also crossed river beds, which were dry though of course and passed a couple houses and sheep dents... I really wondered what in all the world would make you live in the desert such a harsh and cruel life, but still, there were people living out there and it is perfectly normal for them to live like that (I'd like to say now, that you will never hear me complaining again about rainy days, but I know myself, I WILL complain about them againJ).

I didn't feel flash but wasn't too bad, humping and bumping around on the backseat, but the longer we drove the more I was dreading the trip back to Misdah. It felt like we were driving forever. I also became aware, that If something happened to our drivers I wouldn't have any idea how to get out of this desert again, no idea how to find water or a sign of civilisation. It made me realize my own insignificance, and still, God cares for every single one of us, He cares for me. That was an encouraging thought (by the way our driver had 3 satellite phones and a couple more normal cell phones so I guess even I would have been bale to get some help).

Our driver was a middle aged Bedouin man (he told us he had two Missus's, at one point he actually almost stuck his mobile phone up my nose because he wanted me to talk to Missus No. two, great... I love small talks, especially if the other person doesn't speak the same languageJ). This guy was amazing though in finding his way though the Sahara. I guess it is his business to take visitors/guests/tourists out there but still, I was lost in no time, and normally I'm quite good with directions.

First we went to a big hole in the middle of nowhere. They told us that there was a bus at the bottom of the big hole in the middle of nowhere but I couldn't see a bus at the bottom of the big hole in the middle of nowhere and why in the world would a bus be down there anyway???? But the hole was impressive!!!! And unlike in Germany or any other place in the "safety"-crazy Western world, there was no nothing to prevent us from falling down, except our very own good common sense.

Taking a photo of a guy taking a photo of a lady taking a photo of her husband

When we finally reached the sand dunes it was amazing (and worth the 2h drive). It wasn't as hot as you'd imagine it to be in the dessert and we all took out shoes off to climb the sand dunes, that is, all except Ned. He refused to have his shoes taken off (he must come after his Grandad LessJ). I'm one of those strange weirdos who really doesn't like sand (Going swimming at a beach always puts me in a bit of a dilemma: how do I get back to my dry towel without getting that sand stuck on my wet legs?) but this sand was so nice, soft, warm, fine... perfect.

Then they started to prepare lunch: Pida bread baked in a fire in the sand, the dough freshly and carefully prepared by our Bedouin driver. What ever he did he did very thorough. First started a fire in the sand, then he washed his hands almost ritually and dried them.After that he washed out a bowl, put inthe ingredients for the pida bread, knead it, formed the pida and covered it with a layer of flour. The fire had burned low and he moved the embers to the side, put the pida bread in the hot sand, covered it with more hot sand and at last he covered the hot sand with the embers again. Believe me, that pida bread is worth the wait, soooo yummy, although slightly sandy, but the flour coat helps shaking off most of the sand. They also prepared some kind of soup or something (which had my beloved tuna in it) and there were fresh vegetable and fruit (to the delight of my fruit and veggies loving offspring... he ate two entire small cucumbers, to the disgust of his father who despises cucumbers).

I guess in Europe we're often used to fast food. That doesn't even mean that we go to Mac Donald's every day, but normally a meal is prepared in less than an hour (at least when I am cookingJ). This meal in the desert gave me a new perspective on the word "slow food" and how awesome it actually is to have a meal prepared from scratch while you sit there and chat or go around and explore and just enjoy being together (luckily I wasn't hungry and thereof desperate for foodJ).

It would have been a perfect day if Ned hadn't had that aweful cold, but considering he did soooo well. He was a bit moody and particular but hey, how do you feel when you are sick and would get dragged through the desert by your parentsJ???? Somehow I tend to forget about Cedric, but he is such a happy and content baby most of the time, that it is so easy to forget about him, but luckily we did NOT forget him in the desert or leave him there accidentally.

My kid went WILD!!!

Arabs LOVE children, and they have a LOT of children around wherever you go. It isn’t only their own kids, but the kids of the sister or Cousin Ali’s children or the kids of the brother's cousin’s aunt’s sister… so there are always lots of kids around. And those kids have got a lot of freedom, they can do whatever they want, run around wherever they want, eat however little or much they want in whatever style they want, sitting down or standing up or running around. Don’t get me wrong, most of the children I’ve met are very well behaved (in fact often they are better behaved than my very own wild donkey lately). The amazing thing is, that the older kids take care of the younger ones and they don’t mind having the younger ones around or telling them off now and then... back home the older kids always hate having to look after the younger ones. Well, our offspring though, isn’t used to that kind of freedom. For him it was a strange, foreign and fun concept, so of course he made the MOST of it (as I had dreaded beforehand). If you wanted to tell him off, other adults would tell you “Don’t worry, leave him be”. So no "NOs" whatsoever, no discipline, no limits, no nothing. He went WILD like a wild donkey!!!!

When we first arrived in the small desert town of Misdah, around 2 1/2h drive inland from Tripoli we visited a little school, some children sang a song for us and, of course, had some food. Next stop was lunch (at 3pm, normal lunch time in these parts of the world). I didn't have a clue (and still don't have) why exactly we had lunch at this guys place, no idea what the connection was and why we were there, but when we entered, he greeted us with “My house, is your house!” and Ned seemed to take it literately. He explored everywhere, picked up everything, ran around like crazy, went into the kitchen and spend some time with the ladies of the house (whom we only briefly met just before leaving), accidentally pushed a little girl over and just could not get the concept I his head, that in this culture you eat on the ground and that the table cloth on floor is basically the dinning table. Instead of going AROUND he’d run straight over it, in between the food as well as over it. Well, we weren’t allowed to tell him otherwise.

I think I've mentioned it before, but Ned loves fruit, I mean he really LOVES fruit (a friend told us that she’d never seen a kid enjoy eating fruits and veggies as much as Ned does). Well, there were these bowls of fruit. First he picked up an apple, took a bite and but it back in the bowl. Next he picked up a pear, took another bit and put it back again. After that he had a go with a banana. There was also a bowl with chocolates. I don’t even want to think about how much chocolate he must have had. Every time he came rushing in or out of the room he had another wrapper in his hand or some more chocolate smeared over his face. I didn’t bother trying to make him sit down and eat some of the yummy cuscus, thinking: “When in Rome, do as the Romans”. He also thought it great fun that everyone was sitting on the floor; “uncle” Ronnie made a perfect horse (I hope he didn’t damage uncle Ronnie permanently).

At one point I could hear our host laughing in the area where the kitchen and the back door was. Then he stuck his head back into the room and beckoned me to come out. I was dreading what would meet my eyes. Luckily Ned wasn’t in the process of destroying half of the house or anything the like, but he’d run outside (no shoes, only in his socks) and was busy throwing stones from our hosts court yard over a rather high wall to the neighbors’. The other kids and their dad thought it was hilarious (and Ned loved having an audience).

After lunch (I think it was around 5pm) we went to see the old ruinous city of Misdah and the little museum our host for lunch runs. He was very please to inform me, that the German explorer Heinrich Barth came through Misdah some time in the 1850s. He even owns the book “Die grosse Reise” by H. Barth in German, which was published some time in the late 1850s and is now out of printJ.

After the museum we went to another man’s home, this time I knew that he was a cousin of our friend Mohamed. Whereas at lunch we were together with the man, now us 3 ladies were ushered to the ladies quarters and what a sight it was. They were all dressed up beautifully in bright colourful robes and lots of perfume and make-up and we had tea and coffee with them. I didn’t even try to control Ned. He saw more of the house than I will ever do myself. He had some chocolate on our side then he would disappear and have some biscuits with the man just to re-appear in our quarters to knock over a glass of orange juice. Not bothered by it whatsoever he ran off again to do I-don’t-know-what, just to re-appear once more and knock over some coffee, step in it and run off again. Of course there were lots of other little boys around and at one point a maybe 5-year-old stuck his head in in a slightly alarmed and helpless manner saying something in Arabic. Honestly I didn't even want to know what Ned was up to this time and luckily they didn’t translate for me.

It wasn’t my first time in Misdah. Three years ago I came for a visit with Ben as well when Logos II was in Tripoli. That time I had such a great but also a bit of difficult time because I had such a aweful runny nose and I also couldn’t speak more than 5 words of Arabic and the ladies English is basically none existing. I still don’t speak more than 5 words of Arabic, but this time a German couple was with us who’d lived in Egypt for 15 years and spoke Arabic fluently. Conversation is SOOOO much easier if there is one person at least speaking both languages. But then another problem surfaces: what to talk about, lah! Luckily we had a baby with us (a very well-behaved baby that is) and he was, once more, passed around like an Olympic torch. When I finally got him back, he smelled very much of this very heavy Arabic musk perfumeJ.

Well, I neither really drink tea nor coffee, and that is something they really don’t understand here, how you can not drink it. When a girl passed around the coffee and biscuits I took a biscuit but declined the coffee. She gave me a very puzzled look and After finishing going around passing out the coffee she came back to me, just to make sure that I was in all ernest about not wanting some coffee. I made a mental note to not refuse next time… I guess I was very rude in their eyes or something.

Finally we went to our friend’s home and us ladies were welcomed to the ladies quarters. It was so nice to meet them again. There were lots of ladies and most of their names I’ve forgotten again. It is also very difficult for me to tell them apart because they all wore a headcovering, even though we were all ladies. I knew Mohamed’s wife, and I also remembered her sister but I could not remember anyone else from my last visit. Well, they did!! They remembered my runny nose and they were very quick to inform me that I had changed, that I had grown fat… maybe having no translator would be better for my self-esteemJ… ou well, I try to loose my baby fat again, but it is easier said than done. One girl also insisted on speaking Arabic to me, following me around, I tried to sign to hear that I truly and honestly didn't get a word she said. She'd only repeat what she'd said before, but this time slooooower and clearer and louder, as if I was deafJ.

Mohamed has two sons (and a baby daughter), and this time they were the only children besides Ned, but he gladly joined them in running all over the house. I thought he'd either drop dead soon… or he'd start crying because of over-tiredness. I would have loved to put him down to sleep, but had no idea what the sleeping arrangements were, only that the men would be with the men and the ladies with the ladies… they also said to let him run until he'd fall asleep(while running??). Well, I tried to do just that. At 10:30 pm out little guy was so blown through the wind that he only cried and cried and wanted his daddy. As all the ladies had their headcoverings in place he was allowed in and went to the room where us three ladies and my two boys were to sleep. After a while he finally fell asleep. Ced was also finished with his bottle and laid in his little travel cot, when all of a sudden out of the blue, he puked, like a little milk fountain, the content of his entire bottle. Great!!!! After I had him clean again they both were in bed and sleeping FINALLY.

To be honest, I was ready for bed myself, which was not to be though. My two companions were to be dressed up in a beautiful Libyan traditional wedding costume (I wore it last time already) AND there was still the henna tattooing. In a way I really wanted to have one but the time factor made me a bit unwilling: it takes quite some time to be put on, and after that it needs to dry for 3 or 4h. Just when I decided to give it a go, I heard Ned crying in agony. It took me forever to calm him down again. He wanted daddy. I told him that daddy was with the men (REALLY disliking segregation VERY much) and we couldn’t go over there. He did calm down after quite some time, but would not go back to sleep. At 1am I gave up. Although my two friends had gone to bed by now, I saw that some ladies where still up in the other room, so I grabbed Ned, went over there and had my henna tattoo done. It is quite pretty and in retrospect I’m glad I did it, but a couple minutes after starting with it I started to doubt my own sanity again. First they stick a big sticky pattern on your arm, then they tape the edges down with cello tape or something, after that a thick layer of henna-mud gets put on, it then gets covered with some paper towel and wrapped with a scarf. Then you’re suppose to go to bed, lay on your back and hold your arm very still for about 3 or 4h. It started to feel quite uncomfortable already quite early, in fact it started to feel strange when they stuck the pattern on. I felt like somehow my nerves were doing funny things and my finger tips started to tingle.

Well, I did go to bed, but oh what a night. Ned finally went back to sleep, but only with me next to him. I had to lay on the side where I had the tattoo and every time I made an attempt to turn on my back, Ned would wake up and start screaming again. So I lay on my side almost the entire rest of the night, trying not to move my henna-tattooed arm too much while I slowly felt that my blood circulation was cut off and the nerves continued to do funny things.In my comfortableness I came to the frightful conclusion, that at the end of this night I would “wake up” to find my arm having died off and being black or blue, but at least with a red henna-tattoo on it. I was on the point of walking back to the ship right there and then. Well, the night did end, I did get some sleep (maybe 2h hours), and boy was I happy when I discovered that the beautiful henna tattoo was on a still normally coloured and fully functional arm. Unfortunately Ned woke up with the same aweful cold I had three years ago (they will always remember us as the family with the runny and snotty noses). The night was rather dreadful but we were rewarded with the most amazing fresh Libyan bread for breakfast, freshly backed outside in a special kind of bread oven.

I struggle to like the child I love so much

Normally you start a story at the beginning, don’t you??? And I guess the beginning of the story of our little trip to inland Libya started one or two days before we actually left (so hopefully I’m not boring you to much, but if I do, feel free to scroll downJ, it IS getting a bit emotional, because emotions boiled a bit over, just before the trip to the desert).

Sometimes I struggle so much to like the child I love so much. I struggle with his behaviour, with his screaming and kicking, with the little boy, who can also be so adorable, can be so much fun, can care for other children, can share with people, can eat nicely, can go down to sleep like an little angels, can obey, can play with lots of imagination either alone or with others, can tidy up, can give kisses and hugs, can flash cheeky grins… as I said, he CAN. But lately he often showed his rather, uhm, not so pleasant side, a side we all have, the sinful one. And I am ashamed of it! It makes me sad, embarrassed, boiling hot, angry, aggressive, discouraged, impatient, short tempered … it makes the worst come out in me, MY sinful side. I saw him pulling out some hair of a little girl, push another one, “steal” food from a third, and of course his tantrums, they returned big times. People ask me why he screams so much in the dinning room. It makes me want to give them stupid sinful answers, or defending or justify his behaviour, although I can't stand his screaming myself!!! I hate him screaming in the dinning room, screaming in the staircases, screaming on deck 4… I hate him screaming wherever, to be honest, even alone with one of us in the cabin, all in private. It makes me feel aggressive and I feel like it’s making us look like incapable parents, like failures (I know that feelings are often not based on reality, but still, they are there). You start to compare: Other children don’t seem to do as much screaming as him (remember, the grass always seems greener on the other side). Comparing makes me feel even worse, I start complaining to God about my son, about life, about everything although I know and see that there are so many things I am so immensely grateful for, inclusive the very same son.

Nap time has been a such a struggle lately, it's gotten so much worse since being back on the ship. Instead of sleeping he’s taken his bedding apart, emptied drawers of nicely folded laundry, emptied cupboard of more laundry, sat on top of drawers, sat in drawers and also stood in drawers. I don’t mind him not sleeping and reading or playing in bed, but I do greatly mind him doing all those other things: I spend all that time folding the laundry, I don’t want him to get hurt or fall over because of the drawers, I don’t want him to BREAK the drawers AND I want him to learn to obey me, his mother!!!! You might think: “Why bother with nap times if he so obviously doesn’t need it anymore??” Well, I tell you why bother with naptimes, if he doesn’t go down for a nap, he is a grumpy ratbag for the rest of the day, that’s why I bother with nap times!!!.

Monday and Tuesdays were two days when our nap time issue almost got out of control. On Monday I made the decision to take him out of bed after a while without him having slept at all, with the result that I had a whining and screaming and extremely naughty kid for the rest of the day. I guess it doesn’t help in particular, that Ben is so busy. So often something urgent pops up for him, just at that very time when it used to be “daddy time”. Ben really tries to spend as much time with us as possible, but somehow urgent situations always seem to happen in the most inconvenient moments. Well, on Monday, Ben was with us for dinner, but as I said Ned was, uhm, being difficult… and very loud about it, in fact kicking and screaming and Ben took Ned up to the cabin, while I finished eating. Being still in the dinning room I could see that there was an amazing sunset, so I thought I’d use the time to take some photos of the sunset while Ben was with Ned. I rushed to the cabin, noticed that Ned was still in his room screaming and Ben in the main cabin, grabbed the camera and rushed out again to the aft of the ship. The sunset was spectacular!! Our God really is the greatest artist of all!! At one point I thought I heard my name being paged, but I didn’t understand it properly, so I thought “Who in the world would page for me anyway??” and ignored it. When the sun had finally set, I went back to the cabin to be greeted by a very upset toddler and also, surprisingly, a slightly upset husband, who accused me of locking a door. I do many silly things without thinking, but I was very sure, I didn’t lock no doors… when he saw my puzzled look he asked: “So you didn’t lock the door to Ned’s cabin???” I mean, hello, why in the world would I lock the door to Ned’s cabin while he’s screaming his head of on the other side???? Well, I suppose Ned tried to free himself and locked himself instead accidentally. After Ned had calmed down a bit, Ben wanted to get him out of his room but couldn’t open the door, it was locked. He tried the key from the main cabin, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried talking Ned into how to unlock himself again. He thought I must have locked the door when I rushed in to grab the camera, so he tried to contact me which didn’t work out. Of course the little guy inside the cabin started getting a bit hysteric and Ben was getting desperate to get the door open. He was just contemplating how best to break the door down when he remembered that the captain has a grand master key which opens all doors (at least on our ship that is, not on yours or anywhere else of course) and luckily he found him quickly and they released the (self-inflicted) little prisoner. I returned shortly after and was confronted with the accusation of having locked the little guy in his cabin. To be honest, this accusation was founded neither on logic nor facts; I mean why would I lock him in the first place??? And if Ben’s cabin key didn’t fit why should mine do so?? Well, he forgave me for unknowingly being suspected of locking up our son in his cabin and then running away and hiding with my camera to take pictures of a sunset.

So on Tuesday, I was determined for Ned to have his nap time. I was in no mood whatsoever to have the same behaviour again as the day before. And it needed drastic measures!! I had told him before, if he didn’t stay in bed, I would take away his beloved teddy and best friend Hermie. When I put him in bed, HE told me: “Stay bed… Hermie away”, but unfortunately he didn’t take my threat serious, but I meant business!! When I found him almost sitting in the top drawers again, I calmly (at least on the outside, inside I was boiling) put him back to bed and tried to explain to him that I would take Hermie now and then left the cabin. I felt so miserable… incapable, sinful, angry, ashamed, sad…. and many more things hard to explain. So here I sat on the verge of tears and over there he screamed his head off for I don’t know how long (too long, that’s for sure) but I had to see it through. When he finally went quiet I went over, and there he lay, my little boy, my little angel, so much loved, but sometimes not liked… or better, his behaviour not liked. I love the person, but not the deed… strangely familiar, isn’t it???? God loves the sinner, but not sin. He loves ME so much, but not MY sin. And he forgives me, again and again. And just like I am forgiven, God wants me to forgive. I have to forgive Ned, forgive him, for making me feel like a incapable mother, for embarrassing me, for bringing up my worst, my sinful self.

When he’d calmed down I went in to pass Hermie back to Ned, he wasn’t asleep, just utterly exhausted. I said to him: “I forgive you”, because I needed to forgive him, I wanted to ask him to forgive me as well, but I guess that is just a bit too high for a 2 year old to grasp. And I saw it in his eyes anyway, that he’d forgiven me and loves me as much as ever. He gave me a kiss. He very quickly went to sleep, him and Hermie.

I would LOVE to be able now to write, that for the rest of the day, he was the little angel boy I know is somewhere hidden there, but unfortunately it got so much WORSE after nap time.

After Ned woke up again, Ben came to the cabin, we went down to go for dinner and Ben got a phone call (oh how I hate those mobile phones at times)!! He hadn’t even sat down or gotten his food but had to leave right there and then. So I was alone again with Ned and the screaming started again, with no obvious reason, I left the food standing on the table grabbed my kicking and screaming kid, rushed up to our cabin and dumped him in his room again. I was so mad (where was the forgiveness again???)!!! I was so exhausted. He was screaming in his cabin for almost an hour and I lay on my bed or infront of the door to his cabin sobbing. He cried for mama, he cried for mama to come, and he cried for daddy, for daddy to come. Daddy, daddy, daddy, and sobbing and sobbing… my heart hurting like crazy, but I felt so incapable to deal with the situation. Finally Ben came back and Ned was allowed to come out again. He didn’t want me, he went straight to his daddy. He misses him so much. Back home Ben would be home as good as every lunch time and evening, as well as the entire weekend. And now we live where Ben works and we hardly see him because Mr. Ben here and Mr. Ben there and Mr. Ben everywhere. I feel aweful to request two hours a day (basically from dinner time to bed time), because Ben IS so busy and there as so many things which have to be dealt with and he is the contact man, but it also breaks my heart to see this little boy yearning for his daddy.

So that was the situation before we left for our overnight trip to Misdah, and to be honest, I really didn’t want to go anymore dreading the behaviour of my son, especially in a culture, where kids, especially boys, are allowed to do anything without any consequences. I did pack a whole bag full of bribes though… positive enforcement, I mean…

I should go to bed now... night night

Do you also have such moments in life which I call “Reality Checks” or maybe even better “Normality Checks”????? You pause in life and think “What in the world AM I doing here?”

Well, I just had one of those moments today thinking: “Normal people don’t sit in a 4W drive bottle feeding a baby on the one side and wiping off the really runny and snotty nose of a toddler on the other while humping and bumping around on the back seat through the Sahara desert”. Well, I guess I don’t really belong in the category “normal” anyway. Now sitting here at the computer back on the ship, still trying to get the Saharan sand out of eyes, hair, ears, cloths, children and pretty sure also camera, I feel like I entered a different world. The last two, three days where VERY intense and I think I will write several stories about it here on the blog (I hope I won’t bore youJ), but now I’m way too tired to write much more (I think I got only something like 2h of sleep last night and maybe another 1/2h on the humpy and bumpy backseat in the Sahara desert between feeding and wiping noses). Despite the little sleep, we had an amazing time on our overnight stay in a little desert town called Misdah, about 2 1/2h drive inland. There are many things I learned (I think) and many (hopefully) great photos I took (there are 628 downloading on the laptop as I speak… ahm, write, and most properly I will delete quite a lot of them, because I don’t want to compete with a man in Misdah who has 50.000 photos on his computer, and proud of itJ!

Well, I really wanna go to bed and catch up on some sleep,… one last thought though, what would you expect to eat as a meal when you are in the middle (okay, only somewhere of the side) of the Sahara??? I thought of lamb, or sheep or goat… or camel… or grasshopper… BUT no, we had tuna, fancy thatJ!!! Unfortunately I don’t fancy tuna very much ("hate" really is a very strong word), BUT it still tasted really good (despite the tuna) because of the company and scenery!!

Night night… maybe I wait to post it, until I can add at least one photo, shan’t I????J

P.S. Out of politeness I not only ate tuna in the desert (and for tuna it really tasted good) but I also drank a cup of coffee (I really do NOT like coffee)… but unfortunately I have to admit that my sacrifice for politeness wasn't sooo big, because the cup was rather tiny and the coffee so sweet that there was hardly any coffee taste left… but still too much coffee taste for my liking)

Ship's life

We really love being back on board Logos Hope. It's so great catching up with old friends and getting to know new people, hearing their stories. Deck 4 is also an amazing place to go to, especially with Cedric, people just love him. Ben also likes taking Ned down there and Ned loves being down there, the ice cream might contribute a little bit to him liking being down there so muchJ. I love having to tidy up only such a small cabin and it's great to have so many available babysitters (hahaha). Going for the Sunday service is also so easy and no big act like at home, and Ced often just sleeps in the cabin and we take our baby phone along, very handy!! And one wonderful thing has happened as well, and that is that Ced started to sleep fully 10h a night... I LOVE IT!!! It's great to put him to bed at 9 in the eveing and then he wakes up again at 7 in the morning, what a blessing!!! And I truely hope that it isn't only here on the ship because of all the background noises like the airflow of the ventilation and the like, but that he'll continue doing it once we live like normal people back on land.

But I suppose that you suspected already that there is a BUT coming and here it comes: BUT there are many things I have to get used to again or anew.

I mean how often does it happen at home that random people clean your windows with a broom or a brush with lots of noise and water and in doing so waking up your sleeping baby???? At home you clean your windows yourself or you leave them dirty, like I do (ahm, I do confess, I do not clean my windows very often, only if I really can't see through them anymore, then it's about time to clean them again). So now I have a tired and screaming baby, who can't settle down again... hmmm.

At home you also wouldn't shower with swimming pool water, now would you??? Neither wash your laundry with it nor would you drink it, would you??? Well, presently the water aboard is so chlorinated that everything smells like swimming pool: the clothes, yourself, the drinking water, everything... at least we know for sure that there can't possibly be any germs left anywhere

J... hmmm.

Aboard I'm also kind of lost in time and space a bit, never knowing what day it is, mainly due to the fact that a normal ship's week is slightly different than a normal week in a normal life living in a normal house on land. In most countries the people are off work on the weekend, which is Saturday and Sunday, so our day off on board isn't the Saturday but the Monday, because people come to visit the ship when they are off so we have to work. Confusing, I know!! Sunday stays Sunday though with a Sunday service in the morning, but the ship's open in the afternoon. So Monday is the ship's Saturday and a work week is from Tuesday to Saturday. That alone is slightly confusing for me, and most of the time I have no clue what day of the week it is anyway, but I slowly got used to it again because Fundeck (which is Kindergarten in a "normal life") is also from Tuesday to Saturday, that's why I try to make an effort to remember. So! But now the ship is in a part of the world where the weekend is from Friday to Saturday, because the holy day is the Friday and not the Sunday so they adjusted the ship's week's schedule to this part of the world. so Friday is the Sunday and we have our Sunday service on Friday morning but the ship's open in the afternoon and the day off is... uhm, to be honest, I don't have a clue anymore which day is the official day off when most people are off work (of course there is always someone working on a ship, because people need to be fed and the engine room needs to be watched and so does the gangway and the bridge, they are manned 24/7). I suppose I just go with the flow and toddle behind all the other people who are suppose to know what's going on, at least I hope they do... Are you lost in confusion with me?? Well, I'm sorry J. Well, I don't really have a day off anyway because as a mum you're working 24/7 but apparently that often isn't really considered work. If you happen to be of the same opinion, I could give you my energetic two year old for a day or two and you'll know what I'm talking about J. (By the way, baby finally settled down again after lots of TLC and screaming).

Living on land you normally have a decently fast internet connection (okay, sometimes one even feels that is too slow and one complains, not that I would EVER do such a thing), whereas on board you open up a web page then you go and do some chores around the ship and once you're back the site might be open or it might say:

This web page is not available.

The web page at https://emailnet.org/ might be temporarily down or it may have moved permanently to a new web address.

Don't get me wrong, I am so extremely grateful that we do have internet on board, that I can blog and upload photos for the family (and maybe one or two other people who might be interested), but that particular page is the one to check my emails and although there aren't thousands of people writing emails to me, it still is my "link" to the world back homeJ.

Living in a small space like a cabin is really also a blessing, cleaning up can be done so quickly, unfortunately making it messy again is also done VERY quickly!! so I feel like I'm tidying up the whole time and it always looks slightly messy, sigh. It also seems that the laundry monster has followed me to the ship. How in the world are four people able to produce so much laundry???? Okay the puking and peeing might have something to do with it, but ... ou well... Becca, drop it

J.

It is nice not having to cook every day nor having to think of what to cook, but yeah, there is a lot of rice served on board, a LOT of rice!! I hadn't eaten rice in almost 6 months after leaving the Doulos, but luckily I started to enjoy rice again even before we arrived back on boardJ. And generally the food's quite nice, even if it is sometimes a bit "interesting" or also maybe something I wouldn't really choose to cook myself J.

Another thing which I really don't enjoy is ironing. Hate is a strong word but I would almost use it to describe my relationship with ironing. Ben's wearing dress shirt's and dress pants every day (which is quite a sacrifice on his side), and those shirts and pants want to be ironed, sigh... but I do it, because I really like that guy an want him to look his best J.

Well, I waffled long enough, I'll let you go and I get going myself...

.