Views of Warsaw

I have a confession to make, I don't actually live IN Warsaw. Yes, my name means Kylie IN Warsaw, but I don't actually live there.

You knew that was coming, right? You were always like, she can't possibly live in Warsaw, it's so exotic. There's no way.

Well, it's true, I don't.

I live in a rural suburb of Warsaw. Which is way less exotic, and much more...rural.

Rural meaning I pass fields and fields of cabbages on my bike path to my kids school. Rural meaning that I've actually been bitten by a horsefly, which the city doctor then told me was not possible because you only find them where there is livestock.

So anyway, I make a lot of trips INTO Warsaw, but rarely do I go to the Old Town.

Yesterday, I went shopping with friends in the Old Town. And I took my camera specifically to take photos for you, my readers.

You're welcome. And just so you know, my friends all think I'm crazy, but I'm pretty sure they thought that already. It probably had nothing to do with you. Probably.

Decorated empty street. At 9 AM on a Tuesday. And I live in a rural area.

The Mermaid. Um, there's a whole legend about her. She's kind of important here. And she looks like a badass. Even with the Christmas lights.

The tree at the Royal Castle.

And a creepy ass Santa Clause. I'm pretty sure his face is on upside down. Or it's melting off. Either way.

And don't forget to go and post here before midnight on 12 December to win a lovely Polish Christmas ornament.

300th Post

NO. WAY.

This is my 300th post. I had to post today, just to say it.

And I will not do 300 things about me, because I have a very short attention span and would forget what it was I was writing before I got to 2.

So, I will just thank you all for being my readers, but I want to give a very special shout out to my very first commenter, Amy. Thanks for getting me started writing for a wider audience!

For all my commenters and loyal readers (even those of you who don't comment), I appreciate you. You are what makes me blog. Thank you.

When I was in high school I wanted to be a writer. I wrote fictional stories in serial form and passed them around my group of friends.

I do the same thing now, except that my stories are less fiction (yes, I said less) and I pass them to my group of friends around the globe.

Thank you for that.

And, to celebrate this milestone, a giveaway! Leave me a comment on this post and I will enter you to win this Polish hand painted Christmas ornament:


Contest is open to everyone. Except Amy. (You'll be getting something for being my very first commenter ever, so it's unfair to allow you to win twice;)

Contest closes midnight 12 December. Winner will be announced 13 December.

Hookers! Where?

If you're ever in Warsaw, the hookers are behind the Marriott. Not that you would ever be looking for hookers. But if you were, that's where they are.

That's where they were when we lived here in 2002 and that's where they still lurk, even though the area has been built up since then.

But recently, a friend of ours encountered a hooker at the bar at another hotel in town.

She was apparently quite brazen. Of course, I suppose if you were a good hooker you would need to be brazen. I don't have much experience with hookers.

Anyway, she approached our friend and said "I'm very good."

He said, "Okay, that's nice."

She said, "I don't like Big Mac, so I not fat like American women. I have small breasts."

He said, "You're not really selling me."

Hookers, take note. Telling a man that you have small breasts is not the best way to pick one up. Who would have thought?

Pooh is Four

Today, my darling Pooh Bear is four. And also, I am very sick with an awful cold, which just sucks for me (and is why I have not been doing my blog hopping and why my writing is so poor).

He was due on December 6th. Daddy arrived at 10 PM on the 6th and Pooh Bear arrived at 8:01 AM on the 7th. That speaks volumes to his personality.

Pooh Bear with Kanga. Look at those thighs (his not hers)!

He was the fat, rolly-polly baby who didn't walk until he was 18 months old.

Through all his troubles, he's always been the easy going one. Well, mostly. He really hated school when he started, but we learned that was because he attended Polish preschool and he could only lip read in English. Although, after several months he became awesome at lip reading Polish too. (He's had surgery, because it was really only a minor problem that was causing his hearing loss - but unfortunately it went undetected for a long time. Long story short, he can hear now.)

A miserable existance for a 2 year old.

He was the one who fell through the stairs in Ghana and broke his collarbone when he was only 2. He was the one who got Tumbu flies. And all the while stayed fairly easy going.


May you be always the easy going one, Pooh Bear. It suits you.

When's Chanukah?

A fly on the wall would have been hearing this conversation EVERY DAY in my house lately:

Piglet: When's Chanukah?

Me: I don't know. I'll check for you.

Piglet: When do we put up the Menorah?

Me: We don't. We only put up the advent wreath.

Piglet: We should get a Menorah.

Me: Piglet, we're not Jewish. Chanukah is a Jewish celebration.

Piglet: Oh. So when do we put up the Menorah?

And he requests this song



every time we get in the car.

This is the same kid that loves that blue and white flag.

I firmly believe that my son, who thinks he's Polish, is planning to immigrate to Israel and convert to Judaism. And he's five.

Kelley's son, Boo and my Piglet would make great friends.

How to Make Mommy Take a Time Out

by Stewie

Step 1: Make counter sandwich.



Step 2: Throw BRAND NEW jar of Nutella against the white tile floor causing it to explode all over the white cabinets.

Step 3: Stand back and watch.

(Kylie here. Just to clarify I DID NOT CHOOSE to have a white kitchen. My husband's job, which owns the house, decided that white kitchens and bathrooms were THE thing - 'cause the person who made the choice did not have children.)

Parenting in a Facebook World

This notice has been coming home via email for a few weeks from my older kids' school:

Parenting in a Facebook World
Topic: Social Networking has become very popular with students at (name of school removed because I believe in censorship). During this Parent Partnership workshop parents will get a hands-on look at Facebook when they log in and create an account. Parents will learn how to keep profiles private, learn the lingo of Facebook, and discuss how to talk to their children about Facebook.

This whole thing stems from the first meeting where the kids were issued their laptops (I KNOW!). A few parents strongly suggested that the school should block Facebook.

Hello 1999! Awesome. Let's block Facebook. And while we're at it, the kids shouldn't be able to access wikipedia (because, you know, it's not accurate, except for those references at the bottom), or email. Next thing you know, they'll be blocking porn and blogs too (we all know those two go hand in hand). And there goes MY readership.

Our daughter has a Facebook page. But, hubby ALSO has a Facebook page and has her as his friend. He (we) can keep tabs on her and her friends. Heck, I check up on my own students. It's this simple, people. Which I guess is why they are having the workshop. Because it IS this simple.

And this reminded me of the conversation that Globetrekking Mom and I had about how the Polish people don't check their email. The first time I asked a person (who was not Polish, btw) if she got my email and she said, "Oh, I don't check my email", I was just flabbergasted. I just babbled, "You duh...you don't cheyhhh...what?!?!?" I mean, I don't expect that everyone checks their email every hour like I do, but at least once a day, right? And particularly when you have ASKED SOMEONE TO EMAIL YOU SOMETHING.

*Ring, Ring* "Hello Ula? Yes, I just sent you an email. You should probably check it."

But I'm still amazed that parents of children the same age as my daughter are so technologically impaired. When will it happen to me?