Correfoc

So last night was the 'Correfoc' in our little town.  This is when drum squads, dancing demons with giant sparklers, and plaster dragons with exorcist-type spinning heads spewing flames and  parade down the streets.  All neighborhood residents are encouraged to move their cars, close their windows, and wear non-synthetic clothing, in case a rogue sparkler gets away from one of the demons.  I imagine the correfocs in the bigger towns are much livelier, but last night's display was quite enough for me and my two sleeping children.  Mati slept through the whole thing, while Keane seemed a bit concerned with all of the noise...i.e. he freaked out.  I tried to take a video of what you could see from the balcony...

Here is more info, courtesy of our friends at Wikipedia:

Correfocs (Catalan pronunciation: [ˌkorəˈfɔks], Western Catalan: [ˌkoreˈfɔks]); literally inEnglish "fire-runs") are among the most striking features present in Catalan festivals. In the correfoc, a group of individuals will dress as devils and light fireworks. While dancing to the drums of a traditional gralla, they will set off their fireworks among crowds of spectators.

Correfoc in Valencia

The correfoc can come in many forms. Some are simple parades using fireworks and effigies of the devil. In Sitges, it is common for a crowd to line a street, while participants run through a tunnel of fireworks. In Barcelona and Tarragona, the correfocis run during the Festival of La Mercè, in September.

Another typical Catalan folkloric expression of this sort takes place in L'Arboç. The highlight of the village's feast is the Carretillada. In the evening of the feast day, the town square is made to look like Hell. For nearly half an hour, "devils" burn theircarretilles (carts), jumping around ceaselessly, while a large "sceptre of Lucifer" and the "pitchfork of the Diablessa (she-devil)" shoot fire-jets and other pyrotechnics. Every year, the carretillada is a bit different, because the 'colla' (group) does not give up novelties that are added each year to add to the spectacle.

Back to work...

So, after hemming and hawing for a year or so, I'm definitely going back to work full time next year as a classroom teacher.  I was desperately holding out for a part-time position, or even a move to ELL or Reading Support teacher (as not having a classroom offers more flexibility, even if it is full time), but the director said both options were not going to happen, and that he really hoped I'd consider coming back to grade 2.  So...I am.  I like teaching classroom, and enjoy the special bond that a teacher creates with their group of kids...but it was a real struggle last year with Mati getting sick fairly often, and fitting in the many doctor's appointments that she has.  Add in my pregnancy appointments (here we are on the Catalan health care program, and you really don't get much of a say with your appointment times!), and I was constantly rearranging my schedule so the specialists would be teaching my classes while I or Matilda was off having medical fun times.

The thing I am very excited about is my teaching partner!  She seems like a good fit, and moved down from grade 3 to grade 2 last year.  She is really into collaborating, which is great for the kids and also great for cutting down the work load.  I had a fantastic partnership in Bonn with another mother who knew the value of getting in and getting it done, as well as a couple of amazing collaborators I was partnered with in Chicago (you know who you are, ladies!).  My most recent year of teaching was not filled with much collaboration, as that was not the style of my teammates, and I often found myself quite isolated and a bit lonely in my classroom with my 16 students.  Next year should prove to be much different, as we have already started talking about writing a year long curriculum plan, and trying to be on the same page as much as possible.  Happy times are ahead.

Now, just have to go to the public daycare next door, and hope for the best with the lottery.  That way the little man will be well taken care of while his mama, papa, and sister are all at school together.  But the first step is the open house ('open doors' it is called here) next week.  Here's hoping my Catalan is up to snuff, and there are plenty of spots available!

And we have our answer.

Well, turns out that Monkey was being a right pain in the ass the past few days because she was getting sick.  And around here, getting sick usually means a seizure, so...

It happened as we were on our way back from the coast towards home.  I've often reflected on how she never has had a fit while we were driving in the car.  Can cross that off the list now.  We were about 25 minutes from home, and both little ones were napping in the back seat.  I periodically turn around to check up on our girl out of habit every couple of minutes.  One minute I look back and she is sleeping peacefully in her car seat, a couple of minutes later, looking back reveals that she has gone rigid, head fully turned to the left and tensed, eyes open but not seeing out the window.  I jumped to the back, Jordi stopped the car, and we gave her a valium to stop the fit.  I sat in the back holding her, while Jordi jumped back into the driver's seat to speed us towards the children's hospital about 15 minutes away in case the seizure didn't stop.  It did stop, finally, after about 15 minutes (an eternity compared to the fact that for the past couple of years they've only been lasting about 30 seconds to one minute).  She has a fever, and is now resting on the big bed next to me while I hold her wiggly younger brother (who is 7 months old today!!).

Here's hoping the fever drops in the next few hours and we remain fit-free for the next few days...

Not so much holiday...

So we've rented a 'Casa de Pages' or country house in the town of Begur, which has lovely proximity to several small beaches and coves.  It is a bit to chilly to hit the surf, however, so we've been letting Monkey Lou run amok in the sand, attempting to keep her out of the ocean (no easy feat), and going on walks about the town.

The past two days it has been a bit rainy, so we've been taking drives around the area.  I find that driving with both children securely strapped down in the back seat to be oftentimes the most relaxing way to spend an hour.  It is really the only time one of us isn't chasing after our daughter or holding the little guy, who is not terribly fond of spending time on his own.  Quite the opposites, these two - one runs as fast as she can away from us, while the other holds on as tightly as possible.

Monkey has been very difficult to deal with these past days.  Granted, as I've mentioned before, she has a rare type of epilepsy that manifests itself in various ways.  While she does not seem to have the same amount of seizures as other children with this diagnosis, she is increasingly showing greater signs of developmental delay, language delay, cognitive issues, and attention difficulties.  I've read that the hyperactivity should start to wane at about age 5 or 6, but that is still a good two years off, and I wonder sometimes if we will all survive until then.  She is very difficult to control, and has absolutely no awareness of the dangers that surround her.  We are trying not to be helicopter parents, but it is difficult when your child will happily run in front of a semi-truck or off the edge of a cliff with nary a look back.  So, 'vacationing' with her can be quite stressful.  In a new place, she seems to have double the hyperactivity levels as she explores, grabs, chews, and tosses anything she can get her hands on.  Today she threw several temper tantrums, and at one point we both just sort of gave up and left her to her own devices for a short while which resulted in her grabbing a drying sweatshirt from the line and dunking it into a mud puddle on the porch repeatedly.  She had great fun, and had no understanding as to why perhaps this was not the best plan, given the chilly temperatures.

At home, we can put her in her soundly Monkey-proofed room, with a spy camera so we can keep an eye on things, and go about having some semblance of alone time.  Here in our country house, this is not an option.  This has actually resulted in us having more stress that what is typical, and has essentially made our relaxing week on the coast a bit less than idyll.  Our house is near the center of town, an ideal location, but is on three floors, with rather wobbly stone steps (just great for our kid with motor skill issues), hard tile uneven floors, and a rather musty odor.  Each morning, Jordi bleaches the hell out of the floors, and each evening they are covered by a layer of grit that we can't seem to get in front of.  It really is a country house, and the lovely photos in the ad left out quite a bit of information.  No stairs were pictured, and I suppose one of us should have noticed that the kitchen also was not photographed.  In fact, there are two kitchens, and they aren't terrible...after a good attack by my husband the bleachmaster.

Well, one more day here, and we head back home.  Easter festivities await, and Jordi's mom has been working all week on creating the Monas (easter cakes) for her grandchildren.  Great fancy confections they are, with loads of chocolate decorations.  A diet will be a must following this week of indulgence (there is an Indian restaurant in the town we are in, and I managed to satisfy my cravings with an approximately 5,000 calorie meal this evening, topped of by a bag of dark chocolate almond clusters from the local Xocolateria).

For now, all three of my family members are asleep and I should probably hit the hay as well.  Another day of Monkey wrangling ahead of me tomorrow - here's hoping whatever bug has been up her backside these past couple of days takes a rest tomorrow.  Vacation is almost over, and I think I can safely say that Papa and I are more exhausted than when we got here!

FInally!

Finally we are headed out of our poblet and up the coast!  We tried to escape once, back during February break...but if you recall, our German-engineered wonder decided to go kaput, and we were back home in a little under two hours from our departure.

But hopefully, today we will truly escape for the week.  We have a little house in the town center, there are lovely beaches and coves within a twenty-minute walk, castles and windy streets, and local crafty things to spend money on.  And it is Semana Santa, which means all of the holy stuff will be happening as well as everyone prepares for Easter.

Here, Palm Sunday is quite the festa, as children are given elaborately woven palms to take to church (which they wield a bit like weapons), and some of the adult palms can get a bit out of control.

Jordi's mother already gave Monkey her palm, and she promptly tried to 'pat' her brother on the head with it, mistaking it for a giant hairbrush.  Though he nearly lost an eye in the conflict, he didn't seem to fussed about it.

As for the American portion of our Easter celebrations, I contracted my mother to send over some old school Paas egg dyeing kits, malted eggs (which are already gone, eaten entirely by yours truly), chocolate bunnies, and some easter grass.  We'll be doing the egg hunt next Sunday when we have returned home. The real challenge is to find white eggs to dye.  Last year we had to go to a specialty egg shop to find them.  The plain white chicken eggs were housed right next to what was advertised to be a pair of ostrich eggs, but what to me seemed to be large enough to house a baby T-rex.  Exotic, they are, white chicken eggs.  But the color just doesn't really work on the brown...looks a bit depressing.

Well, off to pack.  A much different experience with a baby and toddler in tow...chairs, toys, books, art supplies, tricycle, baby carriers, and the list goes on and on. The car will be so packed, I'm not entirely sure we'll actually have enough room for the children.

Bona Pasqua!

Seriously OMG WTF?

Do you ever have one of those experiences when so many things had to align for it to even happen?  I had one of these today on the tiny commuter bus that traipses around our little town: the Just Tram.  Sometimes I take this wee little shuttle up the big hills to get to the preschool to pick up Monkey Lou.  Sometimes I schlep up these big hills with my double stroller and grab another bus for the final stretch (it is very steep, and I don't like to get all sweaty...Spain is toasty in March).  But, today I opted for the JT.

The JT is full of retirees (jubilats, as they call them here), and rarely does one see someone under the age of 65 aboard.  But today, on the stop after mine, a woman boarded and asked the bus driver which stop she needed to get off at for the Escola Canigó (a local elementary school).  I recognized that she had an accent, and she looked to be an extranjer, like me, so I told her, in English, that I was also getting off at that stop, and I'd be happy to show her.  We chatted a bit, and I found out she was going for a job interview to teach English at the private Catalan school at the top of Sant Just, our town.  The conversation evolved somehow to how we plan to educate our own children, being of bilingual English-Catalan families, and I mentioned that Monkey has some language delay issues.  She responded that her daughter is also behind in language.  We realized that both of our daughters are about the same age, and then chatted about speech therapy.

We got off the bus, and I said something along the lines of the fact that Monkey's language delay is due to her epileptic issues.  She turned and looked at me, stating that her daughter also has epilepsy.  In fact, that she has a very similar, if not the same, type of epilepsy as Monkey Lou.

The strange bit of this is, and we were both a bit shell-shocked, is that their type of epilepsy is rare.  Very rare.  As in one in 150,000 rare.  As in, in the entire world, a population of 7 billion, only about 45,000 people have this kind of epilepsy.  As in, in the city of Barcelona, a population of 1.5 million, only about 10 people have this kind of epilepsy.

Now you see why I was freaking out a bit.  In this city, there is a little girl, about the same age as Monkey Lou, who has basically the same struggles as she does, and her mother speaks ENGLISH!!!!!!!!!

And had I not decided to be lazy and take the JT, and instead hauled myself up the hills today, I never would have met this woman.  Had she grabbed the JT twenty minutes earlier or twenty minutes later, we never would have crossed paths.

I got her email before she headed into her interview.  Are we destined to be great friends?  Who knows.  But I am hoping it will help my mental state somewhat to have someone to talk to (IN ENGLISH!!!!!) that has the vaguest idea of what I go through every day.

I'm not a big spiritual person (my poor, frustrated mother can attest heartily to this), but sometimes, something makes you believe that there are things on this Earth a workin' that are much bigger than your own small self.

Alone Time

I never seem to be alone.  The other day, my in-laws came over to watch Monkey Lou while I ran to the pharmacy to pick up some medication for whatever virus she happened to be battling at that particular moment.  Mr. Bean was passed out on the bed, and my father-in-law told me to just run along, head off to the pharmacy on my own, and he and the Iaia (grandma) could handle the two (really one, as the baby was sleeping).  However, just as the moment to depart arrived, guess who woke up?  That was the end of my solo venture, and I never even made it out the door.  Monkey Lou's particular issues make her quite the handful, so I understand why the grandparents wanted to have all hands on deck when watching her, even though it was for about a 30-minute spell.  So I strapped Mr. Bean up into the baby carrier and away we went.  Together.  As always.

Lately, I've found myself staying up later than my husband, watching random things on the computer or reading equally random information on various sites.  Last night I found myself learning all about Amigurimi, the Japanese art of crocheting little animals.  And yes, it was interesting, but no, I do not plan to learn how to do it.  Not now, anyway.  I've got hats to make!

It is at this time when I am as most alone during the day, with Jordi sleeping next to me and Mr. Bean snoozing on my lap (yes, I know, I should try to get him to sleep on his own, but we have a tiny apartment, grouchy neighbors, and he tends to raise holy hell when he is asked to be more than a meter away from his mama...and God forbid he should wake up Monkey Lou...then the whole house would be in uproar...so yes, my lap is where he sleeps for now, and my lap is where he shall stay).  I keep telling myself that I need to go to bed, yet I stay up...I think mostly because I need this time 'by myself.'

It's as close as I am going to get for the time being.  At least until the Bean gets mobile and starts running away from me like his big sister does on a daily basis.