Hannah's Birthday

Last week Wolfe had a play date with his friend Hannah. Hannah's mom, Labovo Wonhola is really sweet, and their house is one of the closest to teacher housing, so I love it whenever they ask Wolfe over to play. As Lobova drops him off, she mentions that Hannah's birthday is Monday and that she will see me then. I nod and smile and wonder what this statement means. Should I stop over with a gift Monday? Bring over some cookies? Will there be a party? Come Monday, I've already forgotten until I'm about to head out the door for a run. Lobova calls me on the phone.
"You can come now. We are waiting on you and one other person."
Wait, what? I stammer, but try hard no to sound irritated:
"You're having a party now? I didn't know. Could we come in an hour?" I needed to get the kids ready, I didn't have a gift; and personally I dislike anything that cuts into my afternoon exercise routine. I could run and then go, right?
"Come now. Bring Wolfgang, Ben and Ruby. We will wait for you to eat," she replied.
All four of us arrived five minutes later, with Father right behind us (I was grateful it was the town's spiritual leader who was later that my family.)
There I was in my running tights with no gift, and the only one not excited to go to a birthday party. That quickly changed; I realized that the thirty or more guest squeezed into that tiny house were all related and we, although not family, were welcomed like family. I, being pregnant, was made to be one of the first in the food line. Adults gave Wolfe hugs and squeezes and offered more Kooaid his immune system could handle. The older crowd laughs when Ruby sticks her finger in the expensive cake to get a good frosting lick.
I enjoyed experiencing how they celebrate too. Right before Hannah blew out the candles, Father lead us in chanting the Lord's prayer, then another prayer and then the happy birthday song. People would then sit and eat a plate a food, wrap another plateful up in tinfoil and head home. The party was short, but with good conversation and lots of laughter. Babies were been held and passed so that I didn't know who belonged to who.  Father blessed the little ones and others rejoiced over Hannah's fourth year by giving her verbal blessings rather than wrapped gifts.
We left wishing to have more experiences like that. And I promised myself  to not let routine guide my life too much. What if I did run instead of going to the Wonhola's? We all would've missed out on a Alaska style party and I would've had the same run like I do almost every other day.  I'm still learning, but at least I'm passing this lesson onto you:
If you come to bush Alaska, expect some Slavic spontaneity from the natives; at it's highest form of love.

Weekend Getaway

This past weekend, I had my first prenatal appointment in Alaska. Twenty-five weeks pregnant, and I have only been out of the village once since August; I was pretty excited. I had the doctor's visit, blood tests and ultrasound all day Friday, and then for the rest of the weekend I attended (another!) sewing class. It was all in a fish town called Dillingham. Some people call this town "Dillinghole" because it may be dirty, small and less exciting than Anchorage; but still I was excited. It was like a country girl spending a weekend in the big city. But this big city was a fish town with 3,000 people.
The baby seemed excited to go too. Little "Mo" was kicking me the whole bush plane ride and during the entire ultrasound. (This was the name given to our unborn child by my father in law, John. It's actually Eskimo shortened to Mo. Not Yup'ik at all. More like derogatory. You can either get upset at the politically incorrect title or appreciate the slightly inappropriate humor of Garlets' men.)
And because little Mo was so active, the ultrasound was pretty hard to see. Nevertheless, I walked out of that small hospital with only one blurry ultrasound profile picture - telling me I was a week farther along than what I thought with a healthy baby boy/girl. Still unknown.
To make it even more of a weekend getaway, my friend Danielle came with me to catch up on her doctor visits. We had fun. We successfully sewed two Kuspuks each over the weekend. We enjoyed shopping at the grocery store and buying new thread, gloves, hummus, candy and fruit. We ordered lunch twice at the only fast food place in town. Which was actually pretty funny to find out the ultrasound technician was also the Subway manager: on Friday, he was putting gel on my belly, and then the next day he was serving me my Veggie Delight Salad with chips. 
Despite the good fun we both had, Danielle and I were disappointed when our flight was a day delayed due to weather. We stayed one more night at the hotel sewing our last projects and watching "Friends" reruns. The next morning after waiting two hours for the weather to clear, we took the tiniest plane back to foggy New Stu with a pilot named, Angel.
I got home to a very excited Wolfe ("I missed you, mom! I made you a map on how to get home!") and to a Ruby who just wanted to get back into our normal routine. The house was far from order and cleanliness, reminding me that Ben and I make a great, balanced couple.

This little weekend trip was a good refresher for me; and the time helped me look forward even more to the energetic addition that will come in May.

Friday morning

A view from the plane

Getting home to happy kids

Made a qusbuk for Rue

Nellie, me and Danielle in our qusbuks