What is Halloween if not the perfect opportunity to force your children to look ridiculous for your own amusement? Case in point.

So this year I wavered for a while on what Finn’s costume was going to be. I was pretty proud of last years and wanted something equally unique. My first idea was Max from Where the Wild Things Are but Patrick pointed out that it might be a popular idea. It turns out it wasn’t, because there are no commercially produced Max costumes, so only kids of amazingly talented mamas were Max. Check out this amazing one by a friend in our ward.

So I moved on the leprechaun idea. With his red curls and charm, Finn would be the most adorable Notre Dame mascot ever. Plus we could take him to campus on game days and show him off. When it came time to make the costume though, I just let it get way too late and then got intimidated by having to sew a vest and jacket. Maybe next year. We scrambled and settled on aging rock star (we had just seen It Might Get Loud and were inspired by Jimmy Page’s rambling coolness). But then while in Texas, inspiration hit and the perfect costume hit us: mariachi!

My mom had given us a beautiful mariachi hat when we moved up here that we hung on Finn’s wall. It was just a matter of making the outfit and as soon as I mentioned the idea to my mom, she was all over. Every year her school does a May program where many of the classes learn and perform various Mexican folk dances, so she was the pro. We considered hitting Mexico for a real outfit but scrapped the idea since we weren’t feeling up to being kidnapped and held for ransom.

Instead we found black pants and a black t-shirt at Voldermart. I cut the shirt and sewed back flaps to make it jacket-like. Mom embroidered and rick-racked like a champion. All told, it probably only took us a few hours and less than $15.

When Finn put on his costume on Halloween, I almost cried, I was so happy with him. He was pretty angry, especially when I tried to put the hat on him. We visited some friends and then came back to our street for trick-or-treating. We’d been warned that our neighborhood got especially busy and it was no lie. It wasn’t quite on the level of the truckloads of kids that would drive in from Mexico and drop off in my parents neighborhood every few hours, but still busy.

Finn was apprehensive at first, but then he realized that he 1) got to ring doorbells and 2) people would give him things. After just one house, he was completely sold and started cutting across yards to get to the doors more quickly. We only went halfway down our street, since Finn legs are short and he doesn’t like candy anyway. It was a nice chance to meet some of our neighbors.

While out, we ran across a Hispanic family who just died when they saw Finn. They were laughing and taking pictures with him. They thought he was the cutest thing ever and kept making their daughters hug him.

We retired to our house and Finn found that he enjoyed putting candy in other kids’ buckets. We sat out there until Finn was shivering and still he refused to go inside. Just too much excitement. I kept trying to wrap him in a fleece blanket but he insisted his hands be free. When there was a lull, he would be sitting there with one arm outstretched, candy in his hand, looking side to side frantically for someone to give it to. Sweet kid.

All in all, a great time. Plus after dumping the undesirable candy Finn got back into other kids’ buckets, we got our own little stash of free candy to munch on. I’m liking this trick or treating thing.

So I think the twins shock is finally starting to wear off,  if that’s even possible. We’ve gotten used to the idea and started doing our research. We still have many momentary panics as we realize yet another way that life will be completely changed, but we figure that we wouldn’t be blessed with these babies if we couldn’t handle them. And my mantra from Finn’s early months is being resurrected when I need reassurance: “Stupider women than me have done this.” If I knew how to cross-stitch, that would definitely go on a pillow.

We’ve gone through every single book on twins that our local library has to offer and found a couple of really helpful ones that we might accidentally “lose.” (Just kidding, library nazis! We’ll go buy them.) The best ones are written by people who have had twins, as we’re learning what a unique experience it really is.

One of the first chapters I read in one of the books covered mean or insensitive comments. I turned to Patrick in disbelief and said “would people really make mean comments about this?” It turns out yes, yes they will. I think before I knew I was having twins some of these would seem innocous to me but trust me, the following are obnoxious. I’ve added my thoughts in parenthesis:

• “You’re having twins?! I would just die if I were you!!” (then do)
• “Oh that sucks”
• “Sorry”
• “I hope you’re done with kids now!” (none of your damn business)
• “I don’t know how you can possibly handle this!” (it’ll be easier than biting my tongue everytime you make a rude comment)
• “You’re going to be huge!” (yeah, what’s your excuse?)

Just think twice before you rain on someone’s parade. That’s is all.

We’ve started to make a list of various gear that we’ll be needing. Luckily we can recycle or improvise with a lot of Finn’s things. And we found out the news just as garage sale season was ending so I was able to find a car seat and base, a cushy bouncy chair, a plethora of blankets, and a $150 double stroller- all for $50 total. When I think back on what valuable life lessons I took out of living in Cairo, bargaining until people say uncle is probably the best one.

Now that they’ve been found out, the twins have stopped hiding. I feel like I’ve doubled in size since the ultrasound. Though I have my moments where I feel like a house, I know that I’m not quite at that point yet. Really, I’m just happy because my tummy has rounded out in that cozy way that makes me feel maternal and nurturing.

Our midwives, who I totally loved, cut us loose. Twin pregnancy is “high-risk” so I’ve been referred to an OB. I found one that was very highly recommended and both Patrick and I liked him a lot. He was a little defensive about not being a midwife- you could definitely see the tension that exists between them and OBs through his comments. I think though that he was just trying to reassure us that he would be sensitive to what we want  and was expecting us to think he was the big, bad medical establishment. He looked for the heartbeats and the babies personalities that came through in the ultrasound were confirmed. He checked girl baby’s first and immediately said “wow, this is a fiesty one!” Apparently she was turning and squirming the whole time. Baby boy was once again calm and cooperative. It was remarkable to us to see the consistancy in their behavior and we’re pretty positive that as children, they’ll show the same traits.

One of the perks of two babies, one of each, is that we get to pick two names. Admit it, name-picking is so much fun, people usually do it years before they even think about kids. We’ve been scouring the books and have come up with a short list for boy baby and an even shorter list for girl baby. Once we’ve narrowed it down, I promise I’ll fill you in on the contenders.

So a bunch of people I know are doing Nablopomo, which I thought was some polynesian ritual until I googled it and it’s a challenge to blogpost every day for a month. Stop laughing. I could do it if I set my mind to it. I might even try, just watch me. There’s lots to say, so don’t be surprised to see Texas vacation, Halloween, fall festivities, more twin anxiety, etc posted in the coming days. I have pictures of Finn’s mariachi costume that are dying to be unleashed.

Oh ok, here’s one, just to whet your appetite.

So in my last post I mentioned that as soon as we found out whether we were having a boy or a girl, I’d be at the yarn shop picking colors. Well folks, here is the winner….

It's a girl!

and a boy!

We are having twins.

We. are. having. twins.

Excuse me for a minute while I go laugh/cry some more.

As mentioned, I badgered the hospital into getting us in this morning rather than next week because, well, I’m impatient like that. We got there and they had still managed to mix up our appointment so we waited for an hour while Finn ran around the vending machines and automatic doors with a huge grin on his face. Finally, they called us back and got me all set up. We were joking around with the technician when she put that freezing cold thing on my tummy and a picture popped up immediately. She cut off mid sentence when I gasped and said “is that…?!!” My entire body froze in what was probably the most shocked moment of my life.

“Is this your first ultrasound?” she asked, slightly alarmed. We nodded.

“Well, congratulations, you’re having twins!”

I had seen them immediately, two little bodies curled up like yin and yang. We were stunned. Never ever had the possibility of twins even crossed our minds. To our knowledge there were no twins on either side of the family. I started laughing hysterically as tears streamed down my face. I kept going from panic to disbelief to panic. I think Patrick’s jaw was on the floor for about five minutes.

She spent the next half hour pinpointing all the various movable parts on Baby A and Baby B as she labeled them. Baby A is on my right side, definitely a boy, very cooperative and peaceful. Baby B is on the left, most likely a girl, and was kicking and flipping her little self over as we watched. She seemed to be attempting to kick Baby A in the head but luckily they’re fraternal twins, in their own seperate little worlds, and couldn’t reach each other.  As she started measuring femur length and such, thoughts raced through my head. “I can’t do this!” “Poor Finn, when will we have time for him?” “Thank goodness we’re not in Egypt anymore!” “I can’t do this!!” “I thought the second time around would be easier!!” “I’m glad they’re not identical, that’s a little creepy and I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart!” “holycrapholycrapholycrap!” “wow, I always thought twins would be fun!”"I don’t know anything about twins, except one is usually evil.” “I need to go to the library and get a book!” “No matching outfits!” “Oh my gosh, there’s no way I can handle this!”

Finn started flipping out at some point so Patrick was wandering the halls with him in a dazed stupor while we finished up the ultrasound. We got some nice pictures that I’ll scan and put up soon. Everything looks great, the babies are right where they’re supposed to be in terms of size and are twenty weeks along.

We alternately laughed and then cried. And then laughed. And then cried. Pretty much the rest of the day. Which, let me tell you, was quite a day.

Around noon, we were supposed to head to Milwaukee for the weekend, where Patrick was attending a conference. Finn woke up with a terrible cough and seemed to be getting worse though, so I took him straight to the Dr’s office after our ultrasound. Luckily, it wasn’t anything terrible, but still required antibiotics. And on top of that, he got a flu shot. So he was in complete meltdown mode after that. I got him home and rushed around trying to get us all packed, clothes, snacks, toys, while he followed me and screamed. It was stressful. Patrick came home and between the two of us, we managed to get out the door with almost everything by 2:30.

We swung by the library to pick up a couple of books, then headed out to store to pick up Finn’s prescriptions. Halfway there I realized I didn’t have my cell phone. Panic, search, turn around and drive home. I couldn’t find it there either so we headed back out. The drugs took forever to fill and by the time we hit the toll road, it was around 4 and pouring rain. We were feeling like everything that could go wrong for our trip was.

On the road, we talked a bit about this upcoming adventure. I told Patrick how for the last week I’ve felt so confident about the upcoming baby. I’d been spending time with a friend’s newborn and really felt comfortable and completely able. That, apparently, was where I went wrong.

We started joking about how we had just gotten away from the craziness of Egypt and having a baby crawling around and here we were. Out of d’Nile and into…denial. Out of the chaos and into the chaos. Out of the place of needy people who yell at you and…you get the picture.

At some point before we got to the Indiana border, Finn started screaming again and after taking a look at him, we decided it would be wiser for me to stay home and take care of him here and Patrick to go on to the conference. We turned right around and drove home again, where we unloaded and unpacked, then repacked while Finn whimpered pathetically. Finally, at 6:30, Patrick was off again, a long drive to Wisconsin ahead of him. After a warm bath and force-feeding of medicine, Finn went down without a fight.

Now I’m surrounded by books about having twins and not feeling like I’m up to tackling them yet. I opened the first one and it said “Congratulations, you’re having twins!” I immediately put it back down.

It seems surreal. I don’t know when it’ll stop feeling like fiction in my head. I’m sure I’ll wake up in the morning and think “was that a dream?” The more the shock wears off, the more thrilled we are. It’s going to be really really really hard, but so much fun too. I guess it won’t be boring around these parts for very much longer.

It must be a combination of crisp fall weather, friends having babies in the past couple weeks, and an early nesting period, but I have been knitting like a grandma on crack lately.

My hobbies come in waves. Something will inspire me and I’ll go crazy gathering supplies, planning projects, completing some of them, and then losing steam until the next hobby hits. The last one was sewing for Finn. I made him a large fleece blanket for his crib, then found this great flannel to make warm sheets for him. I also picked up blue terrycloth because it was on super-sale (which is what I say to justify spontaneous purchases. but really it was pretty cheap) with which to make him a bathrobe. Until multiple people asked me when he would possibly wear this bathrobe. I pictured it for right when he comes out of the bath. But seeing as how he goes straight from the bath into his pajamas and into bed, it would seem that a towel does the trick just fine. So that project is on indefinite hiatus.

So like I mentioned, my newest obsession is knitting fast and furiously. I started working on this hat for Finn with charcoal gray yarn with colorful stripes on the scarf rather than a solid color.

This was triggered by the cold spell that hit us and shocked poor unsuspecting Finn last week. I went to the local yarn shop where I was reintroduced to shelves and baskets filled with lush yarns in gorgeous colors. Yarn combines two of my favorite things: color and comfort. I can spend hours in a yarn store squeezing the soft bundles and holding several colors together to admire them. In fact I almost did spend hours in there picking out colors for Finn’s hat/scarf until, in a feat of acrobatic genius, he managed to unclip part of the strap in his umbrella stroller and flip himself over so he was stuck upside down with no way of getting up. I almost left him like that, but there were several friendly grandma-types around who looked concerned. Anyways, looking at all that amazing yarn set off my latest hobby kick.

My next project was to make a hat and booties for a friend’s baby due in several weeks. I had to move the project to the head of the queue though, when she went into labor two weeks early (and her husband in California ) this weekend. Here’s the completed work.   I went to visit on Sunday and met her teeny (7 lbs 11oz but teeny to me) little baby girl and got to spend time with her and hold her while said friend napped. She’s just adorable and gave me a tangible way to think of our own baby on the way. Since then, I’ve been more excited about this baby in a more real and concrete way than I was before. Once I’m done with this project, I’m moving straight on to this for a friend’s newborn baby boy (named Finn!).

I’ve realized that my increasingly frequent trips to the yarn shop for soft baby knits and constant work on this tiny projects is kind of my way of coping with not knowing what we’re having and not being able to start knitting for our own baby yet. So I’m throwing all of my focus into these other projects.

Thankfully, we have our ultrasound in the morning. Initially, it was scheduled for next Monday, but I called back and used my Egypt skills to badger the hospital and now we’re going in first thing tomorrow morning.  I’m pretty sure that the second we find out if we’re having a girl or boy, I’ll be back at the yarn store squeezing for ultimate softness and comparing colors for the most luscious and beautiful hues.  I think Patrick is secretly cursing Dre for teaching me how to knit.

In the meantime, once these tiny projects are done, I have this hat on the needles for Patrick in a chocolate brown tweed and one of these gloves finished and needing a partner in a fun gold yarn. It’s going to be a busy fall.

As soon as we have a baby update, we’ll let you know!

So while we’re loving life back in the good ol’ US of A, life just isn’t as strange and interesting and definitely not as bloggable. I don’t have clever boab stories or tales of the latest disastrous vacation on the Red Sea. Everytime I think now “Oooh, I need to blog that!” it usually involves Finn. And while he’s great and all, I’m just really hesitant to become… a mommy blogger. Shh! Even the words make me cringe.

You know what I’m talking about. Blogs that show potty training pictures and are non-stop updates of cute things kids did. It’s just not for me.  With d’Nile, we’ve had so many interesting other things going on that we were able to have more balance. Now that I’m home with Finn and the unborn all day with no Nadia, taxis, or Egyptian soldiers involved, it’s a little more difficult. So I end up not writing at all, rather than forcing myself to blog something I don’t want to.

But I’m going to try to do better. Because come on, life isn’t totally boring just because there aren’t sandstorms in South Bend.

The weather has been changing and this past week you could see fall just around the corner. The tops of trees have started changing, the farmer’s market is starting to fill with ugly mishapen squash, the air in the morning is slightly crisper, making it harder for me to surrender my fluffy cocoon of covers and pillows. I decided to take Finn up to my favorite farm for my annual ritual for picking fruit and thinking about canning it before giving up and just eating it.

I called up a new friend, Janelle, who has an adorable daughter around Finn’s age and just moved to South Bend where her husband is starting his Ph.D. Long termers, we like those! She was game so we hopped in my car and got to know each other while Finn and Dorothy chattered and passed goldfish back and forth behind us.

It was a gorgeous day to be out and just about everything left at the farm was ripe for picking. We started at the peach tress, which smelled AMAZING. Finn insisted on carrying the bucket and we kept having to find low hanging peaches that he could reach. He was a little too excited after picking though and would throw the peach triumphantly into the bucket with full force. I had to keep tossing them out behind his back.

Picking peaches

We headed over to the raspberries and blackberries, which is where the kids went crazy. Both were holding their own containers and filling them with raspberries, leaves, dirt and whatever else would fit. They, and we, ate more than our weight straight off the bushes. Mmmm…

Once we hit the blackberries, Finn would dig through the bucket for the largest one and then carry it around and suck on it for a while. He’s been on a hunger strike for the last week or two, so I kept passing them over to him to keep eating.

The whole haul was ridiculously cheap and we had gotten there pretty late in the day so we didn’t have a ton of time. We decided to head back the next day and invited Rebecca, another new Ph.D. wife, along with us. The kids were a little more impatient this time, but we still enjoyed ourselves. I decided to get more peaches so I could can some for winter and make peach butter. I stocked up on more berries too to freeze so Finn would have snacks to last.

When we pulled out from the field onto the main road to head back to the barn, a lady who was going crazy fast came right up on my bumper and laid on the horn. Seriously unnecessary. It made me so angry that she would be so dangerous when I had kids in the car. We were all ticked and I kept my speed pretty low the whole 500 feet to the turnoff for the barn, at which point she screamed at us and flipped us off. Idiot lady. My kid is worth so much more than the extra 30 seconds she would have saved.  Plus, I should be the only person on the road allowed to have road rage.

We hit the apple orchard next and although we were trying to go to specific varieties, we got a little lost and just picked here and there. The honeycrisp are amazing, I’m enjoying one right now. The grapes were picked over so we skipped those but headed over to the sunflower field to pick some flowers. They were HUGE. Bigger than my head! I chopped a few different kinds and they’re looking mighty cheery on my dining room table.

I love fall! I’m excited for cider and pumpkin patches and corn mazes and leaves for Finn to jump in. I love crisp football games (more on those in a next post) and long sleeved t-shirts. It’s not mummies and undersea adventures, but it’s what makes me happy here and what you’ll be hearing about soon.

Peach butter- so yummy to spread on toast!

Canned peaches and jam make winter bearable! (I canned and photo'd these last time)

…a post!

Yeah, yeah, I know. I won’t insult you by making up excuses to cover the fact that I’m lazy and I won’t bore you with a re-cap of everything we’ve been up to lately.

So onto the big news: we’re having another baby!!!

Yay!!! We’d decided a while back that we were ready for another adventure and were thrilled to find out this summer that we had one on the way. We’re pretty amazed and just feel very very blessed to be able to expand our family again.

So we’re just starting the second trimester. The due date is technically March 1st, but, as I’ve lost all faith in due dates, when people ask I say the baby is due in early springish. It’s a good time, I think. It’ll be at that point at the end of winter in South Bend where the snow is gray and ugly and everyone wishes they lived somewhere else. But we’ll have our little bright spot at home and soon after the daffodils will start coming up and spring will be here.

Finn’s world is going to be turned upside down. He’s such an easy-going kid though, that I think he’ll be a great big brother. He’s pretty good with other kids around here, even babies.

We won’t find out the sex of the baby until probably early October. Patrick is convinced it’s a girl. I think it’s wishful thinking, but we’ll see. With Finn’s pregnancy, I felt zero symptoms, no sickness or anything. This one is different. I’m queasy a lot and I can’t stand meat. Which is a problem for me, since I think vegetables are pure evil. So I’ve been having lots of waffles.

So that’s our exciting news. It’s always an adventure in the Mason family!

The air smelled like sugar and barbecue all at the same time. Around us, interesting looking people wandered from booth to booth, their arms overflowing with elephant ears, goldfish in baggies, and giant stuffed panda bears. To our left, a kid walked by pulling three large cows with colorful spray paint on their bums. Neon lights blinked and danced from the creaking rides nearby, illuminating bored carnies with mullets and goaties pulling levers. The sign above our heads loudly proclaimed “deep fried Pepsi!” We were at the St Joe County Fair.

This may or may not surprise you, but Patrick and I enjoy few Midwestern traditions more than this very favorite one- the county fair. Not being sarcastic, we really love fairs. We love the Americana of it all, the excellent people watching prospects (Patrick said the other night that you see people at the fair that you would never ever see in real life), the llamas, the bizzare shows, and fair food. Mmm…deep-fried…

So we’d be planning to go over the weekend, but on Thursday afternoon I remembered that the animals, which I figured Finn would enjoy the most,  are usually auctioned off on Friday morning. So we called some friends who are our regular fair buddies and headed right over, getting there just in time for the Great American Duck Race. The barker was very proud of his ducks, which had been featured in Women’s World Magazine (at this I cracked up laughing, earning dirty looks from those around me) and on Johnny Carson (at which point Patrick questioned “these particular ducks?”). Ducks were assigned into lanes and then released (or rather thrown) by participants from the audience. Each duck ended up in a common pond, where they blended in with every other duck that looked exactly the same, which made the barker’s attempt to do semi-finals laughable, as there was no way he could convince us that he knew just which duck was Afflack after the prelims.

We drifted away and headed down the midway for food. I had the classic footlong corn dog and Patrick and I split cheese fries and fried mushrooms. We ran into more friends there and all sat down to eat. At this point I realized that fair food should not be sold in little paper baskets that catch all the grease that drips out of your food and pools it for you to be horrified by. Feeling slightly queasy, we took a quick trip to the animals. Finn started to poke his fingers into the goose cages until one goose gave him a look that said “seriously kid? I’ve been poked and prodded, turned upside down and stuck in a cage for a week. Go ahead, stick your finger in here.” Finn got the message and pointed away from the geese.

In the sheep building, I set Finn on the ground and told him to say Baaa at the sheep. Finn tilted his head like he understood, then turned towards the sheep, threw his arms in the air and ran at them full speed screaming “Ahhhh!!!!” The sheep were not impressed. Nor did they appreciate it when he poked their noses and yelled “gose!” (his word for nose). Finn ran on indifferently from sheep to sheep, he was just in heaven with all the animals. We were going to head to more animals when we realized that the bear show would be starting.

You know you’ve been going to fairs too long when they introduce the family that takes care of the bears and you lean to your husband and say “wow, Johnny Jr. sure has grown up!” We’d seen this show before, in fact it was the inspiration behind that age-old, ongoing debate amongst our friends: ‘bear vs. crocodile?’ Which led to ‘bear vs shark?’ ’shark vs. crocodile?’, etc. I personally say crocodile would win, hands down. I’ve seen enough Crocodile Hunter to make an educated guess.

We went to get some ice cream and then headed into the commercial building, where our extremely Democratic friend (shocking, I know) saw the St Joe Republicans booth and his eyes lit up. He engaged a couple of them in a lively conversation. One guy just had no idea what he was talking about but the other guy was actually pretty informed so they got into it a little, with Patrick jumping in. It was pretty entertaining. Inspired, we went from there to the St Joe Democrats booth, where we registered to vote and signed up for the local Young Dems club.

About this time, Finn started to melt down so we decided to head on out. All in all, it was a classic fair experience. Next weekend, the Elkhart County Fair is on, complete with llama obstacle courses, demolition derby, and sea lion show.

Thought I’d share a clip of what Finn was up to in Texas.

Yes, that’s a mop bucket.

What a month it’s been since we last posted. We’ve been crazy busy making the transition from settled expatriates to unsettled transients to settled homeowners. There’s a lot that goes into that. Now the chaos is finally dying down, we have a strong wireless connection courtesy of someone in the neighborhood (we’re getting our own set up tomorrow), and State of d’Nile is back, albeit with a few less boab stories.

We had a great time traveling and staying with family, although we were pretty eager early on to get settled and back into our routine. After a month and a half of hopping from place to place, we finally made it to South Bend. We’ve been here almost two weeks and Finn still gets a nervous twitch when we drive anywhere longer than a few miles. He’s terrified we’re going to uproot him again. I don’t know how long it’ll take before he trusts that we’re finally Home.

As for the Home. I’ll admit I was a little nervous after buying the house. Patrick still hadn’t seen it and in my head it kept getting worse and worse. Was that yellow paint an obnoxious yellow or a fun yellow? Was the backyard teeny or cozy? How small were the bedrooms? How big was the house? On and on and on!

As we approached our closing date, it appeared that the world was conspiring against us. Forms that were supposed to have been sent from AUC bounced around different mailing addresses before finally reaching us at crunchtime. We had to call branches of our bank in cities we’d never been in to get copies of checks. Things had to be notarized, overnight Fedex’d to make deadlines. Our downpayment wasn’t actually in our bank account until thirty minutes before we closed on the house. I remembered after putting the offer on the house and filling out the mortgage paperwork back in May thinking, “buying a house is way easier than everyone says!” A little premature, I’d say. Much of the drive from Texas to Indiana was spent on the phone with mortgage lenders, underwriters, agents, etc.

We had a nice laugh as we got nearer to South Bend. Just outside of town on I-8o we passed a burned out ancient farmhouse that had collapsed in on itself. Right in front of it was a billboard that said “Integrity Homes: Building the American Dream.” Priceless!

We got into town and went for a quick walkthrough of our house. Patrick was thoroughly impressed and I realized that I loved the house even more than when I put the offer on it. That evening we both had panic attacks at the prospect of spending so much money and owning our own home. Despite our anxiety, we closed the next morning without any problems. When they handed us the keys, I remembered how I felt when Finn and I were discharged from the hospital after his birth. “Wait, you mean this is mine? You trust me to take care of this?!”

The packing peanuts and cardboard dust is finally settling and our home is getting cozier and homier by the day. I love this house. I really really do. I’m having fun putting things up on the walls, especially Cairo things. I sat down and looked around after a long night of hanging things and realized that I had met my personal goal for home décor- every single piece has a story and a memory. Our camera has been in the shop pretty much since we got back to the US. It may have suffered culture shock and just given up. As soon as we get it or an acceptable substitute, I’m going to take you on a decoration tour of our house.

Patrick started work and Finn and I started life this week. You’ll be hearing more about that in future posts, as well as about adventures in our new church callings. I’m teaching the 16-18 year old young women in the ward and I’m thrilled about it! Patrick got his assignment last night so it’s still under wraps, but let’s just say he’s been put to work.

People have been asking if we miss Cairo. Obviously we miss the friends we made there, but Cairo itself? Dirty, noisy chaotic Cairo? Yeah, maybe a little. I just started catching up on friends’ Cairo blogs, where I read about typical expatriate-living-in-Egypt stories and saw the pictures of places we’ve been many times and I started to feel a little nostalgic. I know that exact rock slab at the pyramids that makes for a great photo spot. I understand how hard it is to find a green space to take your toddler.

Living in a foreign country as different as Egypt makes you feel like an adventurer and a survivor. Strange language? No problem. Unfamiliar customs? Bring it on. Dusty crowded markets filled with screaming people? Oh yeah. We all become a part of a club. An I can cope, I can be crafty and find ways, I can pause and look around and think with amazement “is this my life” club.

Living in America is easy. I’m not complaining. I love the convenience and missed it every day I lived in Cairo.  Do I miss the inconvenience even just a smidge? Probably not, but I miss how proud I was of myself for living happily through it, working around it, surviving and thriving in the face of it. But still, I’m really grateful for Super Target and the public library.

Well, there’s the wrap up. We’ll soon be back to our regular programming of Mason slices of life, quirks about the culture here, desperation nuggets, little gasps of joy and all else that American living send our way.

Oh!! I almost forgot! Our camel giveaway. It was nice to hear from all of you, but now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!

And the winner…

…now knows the frustration that is Egypt.

Sorry Amira, our lucky commenter, the camel family and souse (I’m not kidding) appear to have been in the only box in our shipment that disappeared into the Sahara. Seriously. Also in that one missing box. My beautiful rocking chair that Patrick had made for me on Road 9 when Finn was born, the down comforter that I love more than life itself, and our handmade, handpainted edition of Settlers of Catan that took me months of unemployment to make. We are angry and heartbroken, and now, Amira, so are you. Welcome to Cairo.

Melissa has charged with summing up the end of our Egyptian adventure. Since I had charged her with singlehandedly buying a house, I think it’s a fair tradeoff.

Our time in Egypt ended as it began – strange and wonderful and foreign and familiar.

I never made a grand announcement to my students that I was leaving, but word got out, and over the past few weeks a number of them expressed their regrets. I chalk some of it up to Egyptian sentimentality – that is one thing that took me a bit by surprise, how sentimental the culture is, but in general it’s a nice thing. I was really touched by the outpouring of appreciation they showed me. I got lots of good feedback from students about how much they enjoyed and learned from my classes, and I left Cairo feeling like I made a difference with my teaching. Frankly, if and when I go back to teaching US history in an American classroom, I’m afraid it will be a bit of a letdown, since teaching American history to Arabs (mostly Muslims) was such a challenging and unique and stimulating opportunity. Some of my students were really sweet, preparing me an oversized card that they made look like the Constitution (“We the People…” in fancy letters), with handwritten notes from several students and faculty members about the impact I made. I’m not a sentimental guy, but I sort of teared up in my office as I read it. Of all the things I’ll miss about Egypt (and there are a few), I’ll miss my students the most (followed closely by fresh mango juice…mmm, mango). I took the job believing it would be a fun and enlightening thing for me to teach American history in the Middle East, but as often happens, I came out of it having gained much more than I gave.

Before leaving, I asked my students to write me a note saying what they would like me to tell people back in the US about Egypt. There were a range of answers, but most of them came down to the common theme of wanting to be seen as ordinary human beings just like everyone else. They said things like, “We don’t ride camels to school,” “We’re not all terrorists,” “We don’t want to be bullied or told what to do,” “Islam is a religion of peace,” and “Egyptian food is the best in the world.” I can honestly agree with everything they said…well, except the part about Egyptian food.

Even if in the end we’re all the same, cultures are still different, and Egypt is still Egypt. It just wouldn’t have been right to leave Egypt without the requisite Egyptian experiences. Fortunately, the culture (as it always did) obliged:

• The vultures are circling. I don’t think I’d ever felt quite so much like rotting carrion than in the weeks leading up to leaving. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “I’m so sorry you’re leaving – are you leaving anything behind that I can have?” This came from our housekeeper, the people who packed our things, the guy from AUC housing, the guy at the fruit stand. On her last day, our housekeeper went from room to room accumulating a pile of goods that she could take. She had a forlorn look every time I told her such-and-such belonged to the university, and I practically had to wrestle the shower curtain out of her hands. I didn’t really begrudge the process, knowing that she (and they) need the stuff more than we do, and we were leaving most of it behind anyhow, but I felt a bit disemboweled by the end.

• No dollars here. Before getting on the plane to leave Cairo, I went to the currency exchange counter in the airport to get rid of all my valuable Egyptian pounds (it never really stopped looking like Monopoly money to me). The one guy “working” there was lazing around in the back before he bothered to saunter up the window after I had stood there staring at him for several moments. I told him I wanted to exchange my pounds for US dollars. “Sorry, we don’t have any US dollars.” I gave him my “Are you serious?” look, perfected after two years in Egypt, and said, “So you’re telling me that you’re in the business of exchanging money, but you don’t have any of the most common currency in the world?” In one of my proudest moments, I won the stare-down, as he finally asked for my pounds, then opened the door right next to where he was standing, revealing a cache of dollars. I took my money feeling like I had beat Egypt.

• Not so fast, my friend. Of course, Egypt would not let me win so easily. As I swaggered toward the gate to get on the plane and leave Egypt with all its maddening (and sometimes charming) quirks behind, I had to pass through one more security point. They flagged my carry-on bag and asked me to step aside so they could search it. Standard procedure, nothing to worry about, I thought. Then the underworked and underpaid guard found my bag of batteries. Our overseas shipment couldn’t have any batteries in it, so I had pulled the batteries out of every possible thing in the house, and put them all in one bag. I didn’t want it to add to the weight of my already-backbreaking checked baggage, so I put the Ziploc of batteries, probably $50 worth, in my carry-on. The guard pulled it out, looked at it, and said, “No batteries.” I gave him the same “Are you serious?” look I had triumphed with just moments earlier, and said, “That’s crazy – almost every single person on that plane has batteries,” but he wasn’t going for it. A guy from the airline tried to intervene on my behalf, but it wasn’t going to happen. So the guard ended up with the bag, which I’m sure he’ll take home and power all his gadgets with for the next ten years. I chose to laugh rather than cry, and chalked it up to my final offering of baksheesh to Egypt.

Since then, we’ve been comfortably relaxing here in Utah with my parents and family. We’re still getting the paperwork together for our mortgage – a tedious process if there ever was one – but other than that we’ve done as little as possible. The whole Mason clan got together this past weekend at some really nice condos up in Park City, which was a lot of fun. We even took a family picture that looks half-decent, a major accomplishment given the Mason brothers’ extreme aversion to cameras and photographers. We’re here for another couple days, then fly to Texas on Saturday. We’ll be there a little over a week, then load up the truck and drive to South Bend, hoping to arrive the day before we close on the house, on June 26.

Thanks to everyone for following our Egyptian adventures these past two years. We’ll keep updating the blog, although our lives will certainly become a bit more banal. I think I can speak for both of us in saying that we wouldn’t trade our Egyptian experience for anything, but we’re also very glad to be back home.