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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

Russian Spies in My Home

I am NOT paranoid.  They’re spying on me and there’s nowhere safe where my husband and I can talk.

They are Russian spies and they are my children.

The kitchen clears out after school and Benedetto and I start to chat and cook dinner.  Bing!  Up pops Sashenka to drink water… slowly… at the table… with slurping noises.

We go to the living room to sit and talk.  Within one minute flat, there is Mashenka and Pasha, doing their homework while chattering non-stop.

The two of us move to the master bedroom, close the door, and we suddenly hear the girls right across the hall, who come to knock on our door repeatedly and ask non-emergency questions.

I give up.  They probably have every room bugged and each vehicle under surveillance.  Whatever we do is of utmost importance and fascination.  They want to be part of it all.  They want to drive us crazy.  If any conversation is happening and they are not in the middle of it, something is wrong.

They are spies.  They want to suck my brain right out of my body.  They are reporting to superiors somewhere.

“Mama!  Speak English!” one, who shall remain nameless, insists.  “You in Amerika now and you needs to speak English!  Stop with Hebrew!”

“Your father and I were speaking Hebrew between ourselves long before you arrived, believe it or not…” I inform the spies.  They don’t buy a word of it.

“So, you mean to say, that when we are in America, we should speak English-?” I follow-up, noticing a point upon which I might capitalize.

“Ooooh! Harumph!” the agitation levels grow.

But the spying works both ways.  I have one informant whom I can trust.  One.  (The jury’s still out on the dogs.)  When one of the kids sneeze, I know about it before the kleenex is even pulled from the pocket.

Once, I was standing outside the home office door when Pasha began his Russian lesson by Skype.  Despite telling him 25 kabillion kazillion times to stop calling her “Tyohtyah Larissa” (Auntie Larissa), he couldn’t remember that she was indeed not a member of our family, in addition to answering her “How are you?” with “Normaaaalnah” (okaaaay), a response straight out of the orphanage where nothing was ever hot or cold, good or bad, and nothing was ever quite normal, despite all claims to the contrary.

This bugged me no end, and hence, I found it necessary to eavesdrop on his opening few lines with her.  Standing outside the closed door that didn’t really latch, and that the dogs generally pushed open, I found myself breathing heavily, sort of like my own mother used to do when we were trying to be quiet and listen for something, and her breathing would end up making more noise….

I leaned closer and closer to the door for about 10 seconds, unable to hear anything, when POP! the door opened from within.

“I forgot my text,” he mumbled in Russian as he ran past to retrieve the worksheet, never blinking twice that his mother was standing outside the door, breathing heavily, her ear turned in his direction.

He was not fazed in the least.  I was one of them.


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4 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar Winnie says:

    Yes all private conversations in my household happen after 9:00 pm or via e-mail or text. Can’t even spell around here anymore.

    • avatar admin says:

      That’s smart, Winnie. Our problem is, by the time we get the last straggler off to bed around 10:30 or so, we’re ready to konk out ourselves, or get some other work done-!

  2. avatar Phyllis says:

    Hahaha! By the time ours go to bed, we are so exhausted that we cant carry out much of any conversation. I told my husband that we should get a 15 passenger van so that we can put the boys is the very back seat whiile we talk. : ) We have already decided that we want the 2 older ones in the back of our vehicle when we go on trips. Less evesdropping that way.

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