Sun Day 日曜日

Sundays are the one day of the week when nobody has to go to school or work. I realize that we just had two weeks of straight Sundays during the Spring vacation yet you can't fully value the day until it is sandwiched between six non-Sundays.

The sun rises here just after 4:45 now (Japan does not have daylight savings time) and as I have mentioned before, there is nothing to keep Nico from rising with it. He is a patient fellow and usually takes care of himself quietly until around 5:15 when he makes his older brother join him. With their powers combined, they then decide on which request they can make that will squeeze past our usually strict regulations, made slack by the desire to sleep until a more decent hour. On Sundays though for some reason, they seem to accept the relaxed nature of the day and will instead join me on my futon until that decent hour arrives. It makes the day much better when there isn't a power struggle to be fought at first light.

Today was a typical Sunday of banana pancakes, housekeeping, park visiting, and grocery shopping. Right now the boys are with the neighborhood kids at the nearby park and Colette's eyelids have succumbed to their growing heaviness and she is peacefully napping in the other room. The open windows bring in a warm breeze and the songs of all the flitting little birds, dancing on power lines. The quiet embraces me, enchants me until I too must succumb to an afternoon nap.  Oh, the joy of a good Sunday.

Me, Myself, and I

I had my weekly doctor's visit today and it was predicted by his swift judgment that I still have another week to go. I am actually hoping Luca will want to be born on the 21st since it will make my kids a complete cusp set (Sebastian-20th, Nico-22nd, Colette-23rd).

I always feel a little fatigued after seeing the regular doctor and always have to transform into self-doula mode to raise my spirits. It isn't easy giving birth in a place where we are essentially on our own. After two years in Nagoya, we do have quite a few friends, yet it is not normal in Japan to rely on such relationships during times like this. Typically pregnant women return to their parents' house the month before the birth and remain there until the one month baby check-up following the birth. It is a nice tradition for those who can take advantage of it but for a mama like myself, it means that I am more isolated than most.

Of course, I went through this before with Colette and lived on a tiny island for that one so I am experienced. It does increase my sense of self-sufficiency but I can't help but envy those women who do have parents in the country to help them during such a vulnerable time. My own parents have helped me tremendously in their own way but I wish they had decided to retire in Okinawa instead of St. Augustine, Florida. Similar climates and much easier for us to travel to.

Yet there is no sense in feeling sorry for myself. I just must remember that this is the one disadvantage that balances all those advantages we have living in Japan. And also I must recall that amazing sense of victory I felt at the end of Colette's active but gentle birth. It made me feel akin to women who go off by themselves to give birth in the bush. Such a peaceful and natural event, so unlike the experience promoted by those who wish to profit from childbirth.

At the end, I feel all I can say is ganbatte to myself and just try and stay sunny. A pursuit made easier by the return of actual sunshine pouring through my window.

And the winner is....

We've been a rather fortunate family. No major calamities, no broken bones, no long hospital stays, no stitches. Lucky, right? I would say so. Eventually the odds are that there will be an incident that breaks that winning streak. Nico is a competitive kid, despite what his sports day photos might suggest. Since suffered the bad luck of being born second, he has done all he can do to catch up and surpass his older brother.



Today he managed what none of the rest of us have managed to do. He fell off a bicycle at school and wound up with five stitches under his chin. I know, gasp, right? I'll give you a moment to recover.

Well, five stitches may seem puny to you but for this mama, it was a rough day. Yet not so rough, in some ways. Like when Nico, the massive 5 year-old that he is, had to be held down by four nurses and one of his teachers. He was screaming his head off (and if you had seen the needle, you would have done the same) and thrashing with all his might. But those ladies did not break into a sweat or a temper. They just gently encouraged him to keep trying, that it was almost over. I remember the doctor visits in the States and the nurses there would have not been so kind. I probably would have been reprimanded for having such a violent child. So that was a blessing.

And while I didn't relish having to witness this (needles and stitches make me queasy and they were very matter of a fact about the procedure) I did feel a surge of pride as Nico battled those sweet caregivers in complete Japanese. Nauseous but proud. Blessing.

Or like how I didn't have his insurance card on me (since it happened right before preschool pick-up time and I didn't know until I arrived and the principal and teacher were waiting with bloody Nico in the car for me and Colette so we could go together...) and the doctor's office said, no problem, just bring it next time. Is that even possible in the States? Could my son receive care immediately upon entering the building and be set to go home within ten minutes, without showing proof of insurance? So, another blessing.

Looking at it from this perspective, I see that Nico didn't break our lucky streak. His minor injury just helped me to understand how strong it really is. And for that, I am truly grateful. Now, if I could just rid myself of the images of that needle, I would be near bliss.

be here, be aware

Colette and I had Jason to ourselves Monday and Thursday as it is test week so the high school where he works didn't require his skills. Though I had intended to use all my spare minutes for sewing, I chose instead to go tramping around downtown Nagoya with my main squeeze.

Despite looking at this glass I was served as being half full, the impending deportation hearing has been weighing on me. I am trying to use this situation to readjust how I have framed our time here.
We feel settled, we feel a part of this beautiful section of the globe, but in reality we are just long-term guests.
Or at least from the perspective of the authorities.
To counter the feeling of helplessness, we are pushing ourselves to be more aware of where we are right now. To go out and find the Japan that we would miss.