At Home

Random Pictures around the house

This is the big mosh pit of toys we put away every night. We were smart to pack the boys' train set, but that got old. So Alison Wilde added to the mosh pit (always knew she was that fun of a gal) and lent us some "boy toys".


These are those stinkin' wooden floors! Really, I'm getting used to them though. Just slippery. Seems wiping the floors all day was all I did before we got "help"!


Long day for the boys!


My sweet Hunter. They always look so peaceful when they sleep! Just gearin' up for another adventurous day.


This is our "helper". I named her "Holly". It's easy for her to pronounce. She has excellent mandarin, because she is from Beijing. Oh, and don't worry. I'm going to paint those "hospital" white walls. Soon. Very soon. Notice the door to the kitchen behind us? That is also a "chinese layout" feature out here. Most all kitchens are closed off. I think b/c of the splattering oil.

Heavy Ladened

Ever feel like your burden's to heavy to bear?

Kangaroos and Belly Flops

I found these two pictures of Tanner peeking while he prays... it's not pictures from the following story. I just had to add these cute pictures somewhere.

After Hunter was born, I couldn't wait to start teaching him about God's big plan for us. I couldn't wait to have life altering spiritual experiences within the walls of my own home due to my noble efforts as a mom. Well, here's spirituality at the Calton home:

M: Boys, I want to share with you a story about a prophet, his name was Alma. He wanted to talk with his son, Helaman about the gospel.
H: Because he had a Kangaroo that could eat mouse food?
M: Actually, because he wanted to make sure his son had a testimony of Christ.
Tanner belly flops on Hunter

The next night:
Editors note: Never have a not-so-tired 4 yr old say the prayer when he knows it's the final thing before lights out.
M: I think I'll say the prayer (and I say a small and simple one).
H: No mommy, you didn't pray for the Prophet.
M: Okay, you can say one too.
H: (opens his prayer, and about 1/4 the way through) bless Prophet Monson...
M: (after another 2 minutes) "Okay, finish it up"
H: No, mommy, no, no. I'm going to say the longest-longest one tonight.
M: (How do you argue with that??)
H: ...and bless my bed, bless my blanket, bless my PJs, bless those stickers on my wall...(do your kids ever do the room scan, where they cover every single thing they can see?)
M: (chasing Tanner, repeating intervals of getting him to fold his arms).
M: Can you ask Heavenly Father to bless that Tanner won't break things anymore?
H: Please bless that Tanner won't break things. Or pull my head off...
M: (Note to self: switch pre-schools)

I've been told that one day it all pays off. In the meantime, I'm dying to hear of your feeble efforts to teach your children values... can you top prophets with mouse-food-eating-Kangaroos?

Tornado Tanner, in his Transition.

You've all asked how the kids are adjusting. I usually say "Hunter has always been a creature of habit, so he's taken some time. Tanner doesn't seem to notice the change".

It's taken me a month to eat those bitter words. The kid just had his own way of adjusting: he just breaks things. Like my cell phone last night. He was talking with daddy, and within 7 seconds he managed to get across the room, and place it in the water catcher of the water purifier jug. Tim thought maybe I wasn't watching him closely. Then, while in the master bathroom (Tim, Tanner and myself), all right in arms reach, he pulled the shower door off.

The Chinese say a curious child is a smart child. Right now I play the balancing act of what to punish for and what not too. I'm just glad Tim got to see the little dude's skill at work.

So we had to contact the main office. Editor's note: They're going to regret giving us such a fair price on the rent. More importantly, they are going to regret the "partially furnished" contract they wrote. When we moved in, every little thing was new, (and under full warranty)-- from the flat screens to every appliance. As if they didn't see the two-year-old-tornado running laps around their ankles.

The following conversation took place in the driveway this morning:

Leasing Office: We're here to fix the dishwasher

S: Oh, can you add the Master Bedroom DVD player to the list?

LO: We'll have to send a different repair man for that. (She follows that comment with stale repetitive blinking, denying in her mind that this was their 50 millionth visit already).

S: While you're writing, can you add a broken shower door?

LO: We'll have to send someone else for that one...too.

S: Great. Oh, and we need to figure out the Alarm System (he had gotten to that as well)

LO: (polite uncomfortable smile, while she inches to the door with the dishwasher repair man).

Georgie the driver: (laughing louder than a refined Chinese man should)

S: What. What are you laughing about?

Georgie the driver: (yelling to the welcomed visitors) "can you send someone to fix her phone too?"

LO: (Totally confused, they keep walking up to the door).

S: Georgie, your American sarcasm... (rolling my eyes).

Georgie the driver: (crouches his shoulders in as if he was going to get socked in the arm, but continues the laughing anyway)

Now to share my little dude's attributes that balance the above list of repairs. His one and only well-fitted two-year-old goal in life is to have fun. He loves the sound of his own laugh. He fake laughs to tie himself over until he can ignite cause for a real one. It's hilarious.

It's also really cute to hear him pray. He is so social he refuses to close his eyes, and looks at everyone through his eyelashes while holding his elbow (his form of folding his arms). He also is a snuggler, which melts my heart. He loves holding my hand, and requests it several times a day.

My little Tornado Tanner softens my edge, while solidifying the screamin' deal we got on partially furnished rent package...

The Chinese Dude I Married

I don't know at what point Tim became a Chinese man, I knew him long after his mutation. But it's been a fascinating journey being married 5 years, and within those years witnessing the events leading him to his version of Disney Land here in China.

He nowadays speaks more Chinese to me than English. I promise it's not annoying. I promise it's not annoying. But it is quite humorous to see Tim in his element. His first week at work he came home with a sore jaw. He couldn't figure out what it was from until he spoke Chinese to me when he got home. He realized he was using jaw muscles for Chinese pronunciation that he hadn't used for long stretches of time in over 10 years. He had a sincere look of gratification on his face as he leaned back in the office chair, his fingers intertwined across his chest... a huge smile.

The other day after eating dinner with some long time Chinese friends who had just came in from Utah, we had a moment of English to talk about it.
T: It was so great to see them
S: Yah, cool to have known them so long.
T: It was a bit awkward having them show up with a bunch of business colleagues wanting to get into business.
S: They're just excited you're here in China, their mother land
T: But it just feeled awkward
S: Did you just say "feeled"
T: What. (an honest confused look on his face)
S: Is English so foreign to you that you don't even know what you said?
T: What?! (still confused)
S: "feeled" (this time saying it slower)
T: Well, how are you supposed to say it?
S: Felt
T: (light bulb moment).
T & S: (outbursting in laughter)

Never mind the ruckus of Chinese at 2 am. He must've been frustrated with a character in his dream that night. And that hasn't gotten annoying at all, at all, at all, at all. Tim says he now thinks in Chinese, as if that's totally normal. When he starts sprouting black chest hairs, I'm notifying his mother.

But there's nothin' like watching someone achieve and live their biggest dream in life. I am so happy to be along for the ride. My boys are feeling the enthusiasm of their father, and are going to pick up on it too.

Mission Possible: my man with a plan

Ever heard the phrases: "from the skin of your teeth", "seat of your pants", "barely pulled it off" "by a shoe string" "in the nick of time" ?? Well I've heard them all too often. People think I am one lucky person to be able to procrastinate and still make things work. True confession: I am just used to doing it this way. If I don't push things off and plan last minute, I second guess myself and end up doing things in the nick of time anyway. My very best creations are the fruits of such adrenaline rushes.

So now's the part when I tell you one of my main attractions to Tim. I would say we compliment eachother well, like the gears on a watch, that cover eachothers holes and make the system operate. Before I go into it, let's give an example of how the two of our worlds collide yet co-exhist.

Here's the story: I am in the car with Georgie the driver, and nervously twiddling my thumbs for about 10 minutes. I'm going crazy b/c I know I need to meet some women for lunch, but didn't get cash out first. Finally, I vocalize my frustrations to Georgie. He starts laughing. The kind of laugh that makes you pinch your lips together and scowl. I didn't say something funny, so whatever he was laughing about had to be totally inappropriate, seeing as I was already frustrated with my lack of planning and having to go back home instead of lunch. He reaches for his wallet and says: "Here's 200 kuai. Tim said you'd be in this situation, and so he left money with me that I wasn't suppose to tell you about in advance". I scowl again, take the money and bolt, I was running too late to try to think of a cover up story for my lack of planning.

Tim is my polar opposite. He thinks my life is way too exciting and unbridled. At the same time, I think there's something about it that he finds incredibly attractive. The dude loves taking care of me, and balancing out my short-comings. He is truly a methodical guy and totally sees the end from the beginning. Hence, the reason he took a chance on me. Here's our crazy story...

His goal in life after having returned from a Chinese speaking mission for our church was to get a china focused BA, marry a Chinese speaking wife, then get a china focused MBA, do an internship with Citigroup (they are huge in China), work for GMAC, have two boys around the ages of 4 and 2, and get sent to China to work for GMAC there.

It was a point of humor when we first got married and moved to Hawaii for Tim to get his "china focused" MBA. Me, I was doing my PHT, "putting husband through". When SARS took hold of all possibilities for interns to go to China, let's just say I wasn't surprised when Tim had arranged to be the first student sent do do an internship with Citigroup in New York.

But when Tim got the job with GMAC (they offered it back in Sept '01, but there was a hiring freeze b/c of Sept 11th), almost two years after the initial job offer-- I was a bit creeped out. The dude I married was a man with a plan. At the time I even wondered if he even cared about any other attributes I had to offer other than my speaking Chinese!!

We had the hope to have two boys, and then adopt two Chinese girls (twins). I read the book about gender selection, half hearted (knowing God was the one who really made this choice), but somehow ended up with two boys. And the month before they turned two and four, we found ourselves in China.

Weird.

Well, at least you have a story to tell your jogging partner when you need a longer rest than what you would openly admit. But that's the story. There you have it Melinda Saxey Christiansen. Thanks for giving me a reason to write a little history. Better to write it now before it gets exaggerated. The story is so unreal, I have to blog it now so it stays pure.

Maid in China

I passed through most of my teenage years without succumbing to the phrase "everybody's doin' it", but here, at the ripe old age of 29, I've gladly surrendered peer pressure. It took 7 weeks to give-in, I am still embarrassed to admit it.

So let me first justify: in third world countries the rich and poor alike can have live-in maids. And though we Americans pay almost double for them, I don't know a single US family with out an all-in-one-clean-cook-laundry-iron-er. You can't afford not to get one, a once in a life time thing.

They LOVE working for the US families, because they get "family-like" treatment.

The interviewing process is as much a delicate dance in China as it is in the US. I say what I'm looking for, and the interviewee says she can do it all. Then you dig deeper to see what her real experience is. She responds by following your feet, assuming what you'd like to hear. Every family is different, and the dance can move from the Waltz to the Salsa all in 10 minutes.

I had danced with 12 different "Ayi" candidates, and thought we found our perfect match in "Little Yellow", as her name translates. Her cheerfulness matched her clean-sounding mandarin, Tim's largest qualification. Lil' Yellow was equally pleased, as our Chinese-speaking family didn't need her to speak English.

We only listed two of our favorite meals when she asked what they were; our mistake. While curry beef made a good dinner, it also was also served as a re-heat for breakfast the next day, which rolled into dinner later that next night. Which turned into the toilet's midnight snack...

I've heard the phrase of "praying to the porcelain god", let's just say I was upon it, and hacking to the heated tiles-- well into the late morning. Tim was off to work, tried to act like he didn't want to leave, academy award winning. I was yelling for sweet Little Yellow, the only one home besides Tanner. I was relieved her limited English would not allow her to rehearse this to any of my friends.

Disgusting. I felt like I was in labor, you have no shame. And don't care who sees whichever part of you. Poor little Yellow had unpacked her things two days ago, I'm sure debating how fast she could re-pack. She still came.

And I am not quite sure why she closed the frosted window above the toilet during the process. While this window does face neighbors-- there could be an element of entertainment hearing a white girl belt out Chinese phrases between hurls.

After running back and forth three times to get underwear, pants, and lastly baby wipes. Her voice cracked when handing me the wipes (translation) "you can do the rest?" I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Poor thing thought I would ask for the un-askable. She had no clue what this half-dressed American lady would ask of her. The immature jokester thought I could exchange her request for no more luggie-haucking during dinner. Now that's really disgusting.

Poor Yellow was exposed to way too much way too early. There is something to be said for someone who has seen, washed and folded your underwear and still has cause to come back. But after this week, we knew she was a keeper. Hang in there, Little Yellow, I promise "family-like" treatment at the Calton's has ups too.


PS. Been hospitalized for all that mess (re hydration IVs), but it was a good hit for the blog.