I really will write about our flight(s) one of these days, but in all honesty they were pretty standard (albeit business class) flights and we are busy discovering the world around us. Today we took a field trip to IKEA so that we could get some kid-friendly dishes for our apartment...and to get out on the town and have a meal since we haven't quite figured out how to cook at home yet—we're still getting everything set up.Years ago (approximately 20 now!) my friend Bridget gave me the advice to pack simple just-add-water things in a suitcase like instant oatmeal or ramen just so that I would know there would be something to eat upon arrival. And we did bring a few things (and have a Carrefour in our basement, as the kids like to joke), but while we're getting settled this was a nice treat. After having lunch we wandered around to look at things and try out couches and beds and pick up a few essentials. Then as we were approaching the check out counter Andrew saw a sign announcing ice cream cones for 1 QAR. That's like 0.27 USD! Phoebe has been dropping hints that she would appreciate an ice cream cone for days now. Walking around the mall yesterday she pointed at some kids rapturously licking ice cream cones and said, "Look—some parents did get their kids ice cream!" as if to tell us, "See? It can be done!"We've been telling her no a little too much for her liking. She is not the only child who feels this way. But at 1 QAR a cone we decided the answer could be yes today.We ordered five ice cream cones (I didn't have one because I didn't want to take out my braces again) and the kids sat and ate them at the tables by the exit.Phoebe was elated did well with her ice cream until the very end when she choked on the bottom of her cone. She started making horrible noises and I said, "Phoebe—what are you doing?""Choking," she choked out. "Are you okay?" I asked."Yeah," she said as she recovered. "No.""Yeah...no?" I asked.She was raised in the southern United States so I don't know how fluent she actually is in yeah...no. "I'm gonna throw up.""You're going to throw up?!" I asked. "Yeah," she said, gagging. "Well, wait, wait, wait!" I said, scooping her up under her armpits (I didn't want to put any pressure on her tummy). I started towards the restrooms at a brisk walk. The restrooms are near the entrance...on the completely opposite side of the store, mind you, which is a ginormous warehouse...so...it was far. About midway she gagged a bit and her hands flew up to her mouth."Hang on!" I told her and started running full speed toward the restrooms, barged through the door, karate-chopped a door open, and stuck her little face over a pristine-clean toilet (the IKEA here has hammam attendants and those restrooms were spotless) and let her rip. She lost her ice cream cone and her lunch. "Phew," she said. "I think I need to just settle down and play Minecraft now."Unfortunately, we still had to get home and I wasn't really sure whether the vomit was due to her choking (pretty sure that was the case) or whether she had picked up a stomach bug or food poisoning or whatever. With a taxi ride still in front of us, I made her suffer the ignominy of holding a throw up receptacle the whole way home (lucky for us we had just purchased some containers, so I just took the packaging off one and handed it to her). She was not impressed but I was like, "You cannot throw up in a taxi."I mean, it is humanly possible, but I didn't want to deal with the aftermath of that so I told her that her choice in the matter was to either hold the container near her face or I would hold the container near her face for her, but that container was going to be near her face. Draconian, I know. Oppression, thy name is mother.Anyway, she held the container but didn't need it after all. She did get to play some Minecraft to help her settle this afternoon while I took a nap because...*****At around 3:00 this morning Phoebe came into our room. I was surprised to see her because she honestly is a little lost soul in our new (temporary) apartment. She has no idea where anything is. But here she was in our bedroom! It took me quite a while to settle her back to sleep and then by the time she had fallen asleep I was too wide awake to fall back asleep myself! So I got up and began organizing our stuff. Ugh.When we packed to come out here our stuff was somewhat jumbled together. I used clothes as padding between fragile items, things were placed where they fit...not because it was logical. Heavy things of same items were distributed between suitcases. And so on...So I just started opening suitcases and categorizing. This belongs to Miriam (or Benjamin or Alex or Phoebe or us) so it goes over here. This is an electronic-adjacent thing so it goes over here. We aren't going to use this thing until we get a new house, so it goes in this pile. And so on...When Phoebe woke up I told her we were going to go to the pool and I asked her to find her swimsuit (which was in her bedroom this time). She wandered away for a few minutes and then wandered back without her swimsuit. "Phoebe," I said. 'What's going on? Where's your swimsuit?""Oh, I don't know where my room is!" she sang out, carefree."You don't know where your room is?" I repeated. "Then how did you get to my room in the middle of the night?"Simple. "I woke up Alexei and made him walk me down the hallway."Makes sense. Anyway, we got home from IKEA around 3:00 and I had been up for about 12 solid hours at that point, with very few other hours of sleep to really claim in the preceding days. Phoebe thought it would be "so cool" to stay awake the entire flight from Turkey to Doha...and it was. so. cool...just neat-o...so glad I could participate in her venture.Anyway, I was glad for some rest this afternoon...Now to get some rest this evening so we can start on some schoolwork tomorrow. These kids need some structure in their lives (see draconian, oppression, etc. above).