The Dinoia Family

Today I had a *cool job* day...

And by job, I mean one of my 4 (or more) volunteer gigs, this one being First Vice-President for AAFSW.  I've extolled the group's virtues many times before (Livelines, Playgroup, local events, SOSA, Happy Hours....) and the offerings are just some of the reasons that I have been working and/or volunteering for them since the year 2000.  I can't tell you in how many ways the group has helped and enriched our Foreign Service experience.

 

Cait was too ill to attend, so we brought her home a small gift.

Now, not that every volunteer opportunity is not terribly interesting, but today's had a touch of star power.  AAFSW was able to organize a discussion with Tony Mendez regarding his role in the exfiltration now detailed (with a few changes) in the movie Argo.  This event is in addition to the events we have held in the past with Kathleen Stafford (one of the 6 who escaped the Embassy) who is quite an artist and very enchanting in her own right.

 

Signing, signing, and more signing!

Tony arrived a bit early with his wife, Jonna, and spent over an hour signing books.  I played book cashier and photo op photog, so had the opportunity to hear many a person compliment his service to our country.  In addition to the signing, he and his wife then spent over an hour in the adjoining auditorium discussing the events leading up to Argo, the escape, and interesting tidbits that have taken place since then.  

Not sure why we are leaning, but a photo op is a photo op.

Even better?  Kathleen Stafford was in attendance, and she joined Tony and his wife on stage about halfway through the event.  The discussion became even more interesting as Kathleen added her memories and they continued through the Q&A to highlight the differences between the movie and reality (such as the final scene, when they were not actually chased down the runway...).

 

After Kathleen Stafford joined the crew onstage.

I had been looking forward to this event for months and I can say that without a doubt, it went beyond my expectations.  I am so very excited to work with such an amazing group of people who unite to make the Foreign Service a community and thrilled with our turnout.  As my term is winding down, I should put out the reminder that we always need new volunteers. Consider throwing your name in the hat if you will be in the area, and you, too, will have similar enriching experiences, I can guarantee.

And, yes, it was just really cool to meet someone who pulled off such an amazing feat.... 

 

A little treat for ourselves, too...

 

 

 

I dreaded today

like I dread one or two days of each R&R for Peter.  Yep, it was doctor day.  It fact it was the day for the annual ladyparts test whose ending rhymes with *dram.*  My, I have quite a long list of words now that I never want to say/hear again...including that one.

Given that this whole business has turned me into a doctor-hating (well, if I know you personally, that's different...and if you are a vet or non-human doctor, you are good to go!), hospital loathing weenie when it comes to medical stuff. If I so much as see a hospital symbol within a week of an appointment, I quite literally break into hives.  Oh, and my blood pressure?  Through the roof!  120/90 at my last appointment (months ago, but I can't forget it) and I thought my heart was going to explode while the nurse was inflating the cuff.

I dreaded today,  NOT because I fear anything would be wrong, just because I hate that I am told they are *necessary* (reality being who really knows).  I knew that they would not find anything and I'm not just being some overly positive person.  As far as I am concerned, this was a one time deal and I simply won't put up with anything else.  So, no expectations of anything wrong.  However....

When I arrived, I had to sign in on the pink ribbon emblazoned sign in sheet.  You know, like we all don't know why we are there.  Gotta love it being shoved in your face again.  Then there is the paperwork review:  Despite the fact that there is a wealth (I'm sure) of information on me (and my stellar attitude, too), they ask about your history.  I'm fine with a "Check the box if you've had weird changes since your last visit, e.g., growing a second head," however, WHY do I have a to re-write a history that, A.  they KNOW and B.  cannot be anything but painful to remember.

Don't worry, the minute I left the reception area, my biggest advocate and anti-pink person laid into them on both of the above topics.  Really, updates are one thing, but a rehash of everything in the records?  Not necessary.

Then there was the good ole exam.  No big deal, not terribly painful or uncomfortable, though I do hate the wait.  I mean, you don't know why you have to wait so long, whether it's an overly thorough comparison, or the doctor just had to finish lunch first.  

Finally, the technician walks in, says "no suspicious findings" (duh) and then adds, "Oh, the radiologist left a suggestion about MRIs.  You might consider having one given your *personal history.*

I just about lost it as my head spun around in several directions.  Did the breast surgeon not specifically tell me that if I wanted one, I would likely have to front the money myself?  Did she not say I was *not high risk enough?* And, if the doctor checked my records to notice that I *hadn't* had one recently, yet HAD seen the doctor, she would know this little tid-bit.

So, like the nice, kind, soft-spoken person I pretend to be, I explained patiently exactly what transpired at my last visit.  The technician then repeated herself, and I reminded her that the very doctor she told me to speak with had repeatedly told me that she could not justify writing the scrip on the basis of my exam.  She seemed to get it, but there was no chance to speak with the doctor and at that point, I was livid, so I hightailed it out of there.  I relayed the entire incident to Peter, who was equally enraged, and tried to let it go.

If you are wondering, I am not a person who is comfortable with more doctor visits. They do not make me feel better or safer.  I know I am healthy and doing just fine.  I spent way too much time in doctors' offices as a kid (which now makes me wonder...) and am not going to torture myself like that as an adult.  Nor do I want even more invasive, unnecessary tests that carry risks of their own. I accept that I may well be in a minority.  However, that does not mean that just going to an annual appointment has to be such a pain in the rear, especially when there is likely absolutely nothing wrong.  

*Personal history* my rear.  Did I mention I can't wait to move to Managua and leave this stress behind?!  Or that we might have a move date?  Maybe...but that's a story for another day....

 

 

 

 

My wee Nugget

is 11 years old today.

 

Just over two and a half and utterly adorable.

It seems like just yesterday, she was born with a shock of black hair and piercing brown eyes, and we could immediately sense her independent spirit.  Today she still has that commanding presence combined with a sense of style that must be from Grandma Kirk (we all know it's not from Mrs. Yoga Pants 2013). 

 

She may seem quiet, but it is more that she is deeply introspective.  She doesn't mince words and doesn't miss a beat.  She's my little outside-the-box thinker, writer, artist, and baker.  She has been dreaming about her birthday for months, yet Wednesday, when Peter arrived home and surprised her before school, she said his arrival was so exciting she almost forgot her birthday was imminent.

 

Good thing I found this photo, since that's a birthday gift *hint.*

Today will be lunch with dad, cupcakes, and special treats all around.  Tomorrow? Tomorrow will be one day closer to 12...and I can't wait to see what that brings.

 

You give another year of your life

...a year of being away from your husband.  A year of your kids being away from their father.  Your husband works a minimum of 12 hours a day (more likely 16-18) EVERY DAY in a war zone.  (His last official "day off" was January 4.) He comes home three times during that year (and you are constantly told how lucky you are) and in the end, when you are slated to move overseas, you are told, "Oops, sorry, you have no place to stay while you move."

Why?  Well, according to the State Department my husband is already overseas and thus does not need to worry about packing out a house or moving his family.  Never mind that he never really packed out (really, 132 lbs of UAB, unaccompanied air freight, including packing materials, is a packout?).  

You see, normally, with the State Department, when one moves overseas from a domestic assignment, there is what is known as a predeparture subsisitence allowance.  You are given a set amount of per diem (per person), so that your family can establish a command center of sorts at a local hotel. This is not pampering or extravagant, this is so you can have a room that allows for all of your luggage (which may have to get you through 6 months at your new post), your pets (which will cost you more on your bill), your kids, passports & other documents that can't be lost (or packed) and anything else you need for travel that absolutely cannot be touched by a mover.

You are also given an allotment for food, because even if you do get a room with a small kitchen, you can't do that much cooking since you will be departing soon.  More importantly, you are in the middle of a move and are likely spending 12 plus hour days at your house ensuring they don't pack out the full Diaper Genie (it's been attempted) or any items staying with the house. If it sounds easy, then I'm betting you've never tried it.  

This allowance is one of the few things that carries a person through a move.  It is one of the few benefits we get when we move.  A few moments of sanity during a crazed time.  And if you've read this blog in the past, you know we are moving soon.  To Nicaragua. After ONE YEAR without Peter.  Guess what our reward for that is?  Yep:  our predeparture allowance has been axed..or rather, never even existed. Mind you Peter did NOT receive this allowance when he went to Kabul.

We are expected to cough up about $4000 to find a place to stay, to eat out (since our time to cook will be limited at best), and for taxes on the hotel room.  We get no help from the State Department because Peter PCSed to Afghanistan (Permanent Change of Station).  Basically, in their eyes, he moved from here, to there and once his tour is over, he will go directly to his next post.  

Let's never mind that he could NOT pack out his house and take it to Kabul.  Impossible!  He lives in a tiny remodeled shipping container that barely holds a desk, a bed, and a dorm-like armoire.  He would have no room (or desire) to take anything other than clothes and the most basic necessities. 

I learned of some of this by accident when a friend mentioned something similar happening to her.  A bit of a different scenario (she was voluntarily separated from her husband), but I kept worrying that they seemed too similar.  I called Peter, researched on my own and kept finding this nasty bit of news.

 

Note that nowhere does it explain how one is supposed to satisfy home leave requirements nor how one is expected to find lodging on $77/day in the DC metro area.

 

Not only are we not entitled to the predeparture allowance, IF we wanted any help with staying in "commercial quarters," we would have to move PRIOR to Peter finishing up his tour.  Never mind that he would not actually be here to help (after a YEAR over there), we are supposed to pack out the house before he comes back.  The better part?  He needs to complete roughly six weeks of home leave to reacclimate to the U.S. before we depart for Nicaragua.  How is he supposed to do that with no place to stay? Even more frustrating, one document we received states we receive TSMA "upon departure from Iraq."  That statement, however, directly conflicts when one clarifies with the online regulations above.

So, the ONLY way to get a TINY amount of assistance (the lodging portion is $77/day PER FAMILY, not per person), which would not even get half a room at the nearest motel, is for me to pack out in mid-May, without Peter's help and without having a place to stay until we leave for post in July.  Yes, that is exactly what the regs state.  

Apparently, this is due to the fact that Peter PCS-ed.  Why did he PCS?  Well, he never wanted to stress that anyone would come back and say, "Well, you *only* TDY-ed (Temporary Duty) to Kabul."  Yes, many people choose that option, but he had that niggling fear and decided PCS was the safest option.  

Now, I know if you have any knowledge of State and UTs (Unaccompanied Tours) you are sitting there smugly thinking, "Oh, but you have been raking it in with ISMA (Involuntary Separate Maintenance Allowance)! You can use that to stay in a hotel!"  As if.

ISMA is the per pay period allowance we are given to maintain two separate households.  It is NOT for the purpose of moving. In fact, if Peter had to take certain training courses for his next post, it would be a non-issue.  He would come back here, take his courses (which would be considered a new tour) and would be given the moving allowance, no questions asked.  He would not be required to be separated from us during packout or home leave and we would have no worries (about this matter) right now.

Even more importantly, we would need several months of ISMA in order to cover hotel expenses during packout.  ISMA is meant to augment, not completely cover the expenses of two different households and I assure you, it barely does that. For a year that was meant to help us get back on our feet after the blip in 2010, it has done nothing of the sort.  Remaining here instead of going overseas as a family has been far more expensive and now, despite yet another year of sacrifice, we are facing even more expenses just to get our next post.

Clearly, we are working on this issue to figure out what we can do.  However, am I expected to believe that after an entire YEAR of Peter being gone, we are supposed to also be separated for home leave (his mandatory U.S. based leave) AND foot the hotel bill for the move?  Never mind that he did not take the allowance last year when he moved to Kabul.  He couldn't, as he already had a house here.

Our house.  Our house that will need three days (at best) to be properly packed out.  We then need to clean and prep for our renters.  Peter needs time to deal with paperwork issues and it would be nice to be rested for our travels.  

Oh, you are wondering why we didn't know this ahead of time?  Easy.  There are no required classes that explain this scenario.  You are simply given a chart basically detailing PCS vs. TDY and told to choose, and rather quickly.  The chart itself is good in detailing benefits regarding money, but is the same chart that gives conflicting information regarding TSMA.  In fact, I am learning now that we are far from the only ones who did not get predeparture or TSMA  when they left the States.  I have heard from three other families who have been affected and more that will be.  If nothing else, this is a forewarning to others who have not chosen yet, that TDY may be the only reasonable option (even though it carries negatives, such as no differential payment for the first 42 days of the tour!).

I suppose we could have done even more research than we did.  We could have crunched more numbers and spent even more time debating this issue, because we really did not think that we would not get *any* assistance with predeparture (even TSMA, as the chart states we should the way I read it, but the regs then negate).  In the end, I can only say that if we had really, REALLY prepared for this, we would not have considered doing a UT in the States as  a PCS.  We simply would have waited until we could go overseas and then tacked the UT onto the end of another tour.  Between the additional expenses of running a household, the lack of predeparture, having young children (and needing to pay for extra care), it simply has not been what we thought it would be.

So, in the end, take from this what you will...and learn from our mistakes.  And, maybe, just maybe the regs at some point will be changed so that the choice between PCS and TDY does not have to hinge on whether or not you will be stressed out over an unnecessary hotel bill at the end of your tour.  Instead it will be determined by what is right for your (or your spouse's) career at the time...the way it should be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In all the excitement

of our recent sicknesses, finishing up classes, shipping out bazillions of boxes of Girl Scout cookies, and Nick's birthday, I almost forgot something very important:  I get to have surgery again soon!

I know, I know, it just wouldn't be my life if we couldn't throw the monkey wrench of a surgery into the mess of Pete's return, home leave, packing out, and moving, would it?  It's a good thing I remembered about it, as we meet with the surgeon April 3, and I have to remember to remind him to tell Pete that I will need no fewer than 6 weeks of utter relaxation post-surgery...which might just get me back to my normal self after this nutty year.

If you are wondering, yes, it's related to that of which we don't speak.  And we don't speak those words, because there's no reason to do so, right? I'm just fine, minus a little abdominal wall collapse which sounds, I assure you much worse than it is.  Unless it's mid-winter swimsuit try-on day and then it's just awful.  If you've ever wanted to see what half-pregnant (and by half, I mean 'on one side') looks like, I'm your person.

I noticed the issue late last summer, long after my last visit with the amazing plastic surgeon.  It seemed like I had a pooch on my right side that just wouldn't go down.  No amount of planking or running was helping (nor did 4 months of a personal trainer) and I realized I needed to do get on Dr. Google again.  I did, and found out that this is a fairly normal occurrence with a DIEP.  Not always likely to happen, but when it does, it needs to be fixed unless you really didn't want that tummy tuck you said you did.

Unfortunately, no amount of looking at the darn thing reminded me to call the surgeon. It wasn't until the whole thing with the cellulitis happened.  He was examing the scar, looked at my other side and jumped back several feet.

"When did THAT happen?!"

Er...somewhere between someone going to Kabul and me showing up in your office today?  Yeah, I had no response to that.  However, at least I had definitive confirmation that it was not supposed to be like that.  Even better, he then offered that it could be (sort of) easily fixed, possibly even with laparscopic surgery, to make healing faster.

I had already seen before and after photos online, so I knew exactly what he was talking about.  And, no way I am not getting full benefit of the ole 'tuck.  So, Peter called up, made an appointment and off we will go to learn more about how they will manage to reduce the circumference of my waist by 5 inches or so (well, that's my hope).  I'm also hoping this will end the painful sneezes, coughs and the like and make it look like all of the planking and yoga is doing something!  

Given that we are *hoping* for a mid-July move, I really want this out of the way in late May/early June.  Sadly, that might mean Pete has to do most of the pre-move work.  Oh, but I can direct him from the recliner...so that works, right?

So, that's it.  That's my big ole news.  Get another punch on the surgery card, which best be the last for a very, very long time....

 

Today is Nick's

birthday party and we are a bit like headless chickens in the household right now.  I just finished up the second last-minute trip to Harris-Teeter (forgot ice cream and lemonade on my first trip...seriously, who forgets that?!).  I've also apparently not been to a grocery store on a Sunday morning in a long time.  Nearly had more trouble finding parking there than I would at church.  

 

From Nick's birthday celebration at his Montessori.

We (and, yes, of course the Salty Dogs are involved) have not done a party with so many kids in ages (for Nick).  In fact, it's his first party with classmates and he has been so excited for days.   We sent off the evites, ordered the cake, scoped out the party room at the nature center, have our contingent coming in from Maryland today with their awesomely green party supplies (the nature center sent us instructions on how to have a green party.  I don't think they've met the Salty Dog Party Planner before....they might be updating after today!).

 

We have a kid friendly menu of veggies with sauce, hummus, and pitas, fruit kabobs, pulled chicken w/slider buns (and sauce from Red, Hot & Blue, of course), cake, ice cream, and the crème de la crème of treats:  *from scratch* sugar cookies á la Kelsey D.

The only item missing?  Daddy.

In fact, last week Nick forgot that Peter would not be here and asked if he would be back in time.  I replied no, that he would not be back until it was closer to Kelsey's birthday.  Nick then asked, 

"Well, if we invite him, can he come?"

Oh, if only that's all it took!

Even without Dad-Guy, I think it's safe to say the LG will have an awesome 5th birthday party.  A nature center, 16 of his nearest and dearest (plus The Sissas), and food treats galore.  What more could an LG need?

Note:  If you are wondering, we did think about Skyping Peter into the party.  Even with the time difference, he would do it in a heartbeat...if he had a computer.  Sadly, his laptop died a painful death last month, so we have not been able to Skype for the past five weeks.  We will look into them once he gets back for R&R, but may just suck it up for the rest of the tour, as we really don't want to sink that money into a laptop for such a short time.  Especially considering the expenses we know we will incur in the move...gulp.

Where's my t-shirt?

The one that says, "I survived language at FSI?" Yes, I can use the word survivor here, as this is something that I actually thought might be the end of me. However, I triumped in the end!  Well, I lived, therefore I triumphed.

As you might remember, I was originally slated to take 8 weeks of the FAST course at FSI.  This was all well and good until I realized just how basic the course would be.  Having any knowledge of Spanish puts you slightly ahead of the curve and my one year of high school and two years of living in Caracas meant that the FAST course was not the optimal choice for me.  After a very short class on the first day, I realized I had to speak with someone about changing classes.  I had survival skills, I needed to work on writing skills, increased vocabulary, conversation skills and the like.

I managed to test out of the FAST course, however, with that came the loss of the first week of classes.  A fair trade-off, but still a loss of  a few days.  Fast forward and 6 weeks later (as opposed to the original 7), I found myself sweating buckets in the waiting area of the testing department.

No, sweating buckets is not enough...sweating buckets, ready to pass out/dry heave, and in general, freaked out would be more accurate.  The test was slated to be approximately two hours and afterwards I would theoretically be given a score that accurately measured my current level of Spanish in both speaking and reading.

(Insert two massively painful hours, with a brief respite during the reading part.  One is not supposed to discuss the test, so the above is pretty much the only description you will read in this blog.)

In the end, I received a score.  It wasn't necessarily what I wanted, but going into the exam, it was the exact score I felt I would receive.  After all, I only had 5 weeks and 2 days of actual instruction (well, probably less, since several of those days were half days).  Between losing a week on the front end and the last week of class, sick days, and holidays, I ended up being in class just slightly over half of the time I expected to be.

Now, I know...here is where Gentle Reader says, but...why, dear Spanish Learner, why were so you stressed when you are but a spouse? After all *your* job doesn't depend on your score!

If I heard one more time that I did not need to worry or stress about this class, I was going to lose it.  If the score mattered so little, I would not have done any of the following:

• Took the class when I knew I would be completely on my own, because it was the only time I could take the class.
• Put my son in daycare, day after day after day, so that I could attend class and hopefully find time to study, when I wasn't also trying to find time to run my household and be two parents for my kids.  Nor would I have spent a fortune on said daycare.
• I would not have stayed up until 2 a.m. every night studying so that I did not look like I was not taking the class as seriously as my fellow classmates (all FSOs).  At BEST, I started my homework at 10:30 p.m., generally not until 11 p.m.
• I would not have been a stressed out basket case for the entire course, feeling that I was surely way behind everyone else, as I was busy being mom, dad, housekeeper, cook, chauffeur and student all wrapped up in one, while dealing with unexpected sick days and holidays.
• I would not have hauled myself to class even though I shouldn't have because I so feared getting behind due to illness (on my part or my kids).

If I was not concerned about a score, I would have taken the FAST course.  It is primarily a survival course, though I'm sure it still would have helped.  However, I would not have bothered being tested nor would I have put as much extra time into it.  

It is expected, naturally, that many jobs for which I might be eligibile (within the embassy) will require a good, if not great level of Spanish.  Of course, if I wish to work outside the embassy community, then my Spanish would also need to be that much higher.  Since I would like to pursue, at some point, one of those paths, working myself to the point of exhaustion,  taking the more demanding class and being tested for a score was the only option.

At no time did I ever consider this class anything but a mandatory experience. I did not view it as a lark or a luxury.  To me, having a much better grasp of the language of our host country is simply part and parcel of life in the Foreign Service.  So, at no time was it an option for me to view this as something I didn't need to stress about or not give it 100% of my time and attention.  So to have heard time and time again that I didn't need to worry...was simply wrong.

I have given the whole experience much thought over the past few days.  If I had to do it over again, would I?  Abso-freakin-lutely.  It was insanely tough, but one of the best learning experiences I have ever had.  My teachers in no way treated me any differently than other students in my class.  I had the exact same (very rigorous) test that everyone else had.  I used the exact same learning materials and will continue to use to study on my own until we arrive in Managua.

Did I get the score I wanted?  Well, no, but I don't think I had the time or ability to get that score with my circumstances.

So, while a 1+/2 may not sound like an amazing score to some, it means a great deal to me.  It represents 5 weeks and 2 days of absolute insanity that resulted in me greatly increasing my Spanish language ability.  It's not the 3/3 that I hope to have someday, but it's more than halfway there and certainly way more than I had on January 2.  For the moment, that's good enough for me.

 

 

How did the LG

go from this:

 

A wee newborn in his stylish outfit courtesy of Hreiðrið (The Nest) at Landspitali in Reykjavik.

 

to this:

 

An almost 5 year old at the nearby nature center.

in 5 short years?

 

Happy, happy day to our dear, sweet LG.  

 

Oh, big box bookstore, how you failed my child today...

Despite my best intentions, I still end up at the big box bookstore, buying last minute gifts or hurriedly acquiring a Spanish-English dictionary on a semi-regular basis.  As I was doing the latter last week, I also took the time to buy two gift cards.

One was a long overdue gift for Kelsey, part of a Christmas gift.  Lunch and a trip to the bookstore, just the two of us.  The other gift card was for the LG.  Just a treat for his Valentine's Day treat bag. Not that he needed it, but I felt like with everything going on, a little something wouldn't hurt. 

Last night, he asked if we could please go to said bookstore today.  Given that we have so little time together right now, and Kelsey is sick (so some Sunday plans were canceled) why not?  We headed over in the early afternoon and spent a good 30 minutes trying to find something that was under $10.  Unless you want 2 (12 page) Biscuit books, this is a fairly difficult challenge.  While I had assumed he would want a book about dinosaurs, he ended up, of course, in the Lego section.

After much back and forth between Lego bricks and books and discussion of how much something costs, "Yes, those flimsy pieces of black plastic making up a Batman toy set really DO cost $30," he settled on a small Lego Star Wars set.

Happy with his purchase, he set off with it in his hand, as was his gift card.  He insisted the entire time that he would hold the gift card as it was *his* and he was buying his toy.  Great!  We finally got up to the cash register and for whatever reason, the clerk spent all of his time looking at me and ignoring the fact that Nick handed him both the toy and the gift card.

He asks me if I have a membership, I say no, but offer that I have a Kids Club card.  He then spends upwards of 15 minutes trying to locate and update my membership...approximately 14 minutes and 30 seconds more than I wanted to worry about it.  I would have been happy just updating it later, but he kept insisting.

Finally he had swiped the gift cards (I had an another one which covered the slight overage) and then held the box in the air.  He looked at Nick, the purchaser of the item and said in a slightly whiny, sing-songy voice, "What do you* say?" 

I just stared at him. Nick was the customer.  He picked out his item, handed over the payment (that had been clutched tightly in his fist for 30 minutes, so he wouldn't lose it) and now this guy was playing games with him?  Nick just looked back at him like he wanted to say something, but was too scared.  Meanwhile I was still just staring, trying to think of anything to say to this (in my opinion) clearly childless person who did not understand that one thanks the customer for their purchase.

He finally handed over the toy and said, "I guess we are still working on our manners."

Really?  Yes, I guess at age 30+, Mr. Bookseller is still very much working on his manners.  Nick bought the toy from the store, therefore, in my mind, HE should receive a thank you for his purchase.  He should not have the toy dangled above his head like a carrot to a rabbit in the hopes that he will pop out with thank you just because the clerk (incorrectly) wants to hear it.

I was so angry that we just left when the clerk had finished the whole Kids Club account check "one more time."  I'm thinking that it's now actually a moot point.  I could give two figs about discounts on future books for my child if the clerks at the store have so little interest in thanking a child for his purchase and treating him like a person (because he is).

The thing is, Nick had already thanked the person who deserved it and he did it again when we arrived home.  He got out of the car, started walking up the stairs, looked at me and said, "Thanks, Mama, for the card."

"Which card, Bud?" I asked, just in case he was referring to something else.

"You know, the *big box bookstore* gift card you gave me so I could buy my toy."

Amazing how the 4 year old gets what the 30 plus year old completely ignored....or is it?

You are so very welcome, Nick.

 

 

*(I loathe this question.  We don't tell our kids to say thank you, we show them reasons why and model that behavior and the same goes for "I'm sorry."  In our opinion, a child needs to understand the why, not just parrot a response.)

Mostly so I don't forget

that even during the insanity of the past few weeks, we were able to carve out time for fun...

 

How is he old enough to sign his own name?

Tempting, but I left them alone....

Kelsey and her made from scratch Valentine's Day cards.

Happy Valentine's Day from our house to yours!

 

I had 5 minutes to spare

today, between my first evaluation and the beginning of class.  I decided to very quickly check my State email, figuring I would delete my daily notices and be done with it.  Let's face it, I don't get much *official* mail other than announcements and the occasional lost & found notice.  However, much to my surprise, when I opened my inbox, I had real mail!  Addressed to me from a real person!

Alas, I ended up wishing I had not received said piece, as it was concerning the date of my Spanish test. Given that I had just ended my evaluation feeling rather ill concerning my current level, I did not want to think (stress severely) about said test.  I read through the letter, though and the helpful descriptions.  All was well and good until I reached the end where it actually listed my test date:

Wednesday, February 13 at 8:30 a.m.

Yep, there was suddenly a silent scream as  I melted down in front of the OpenNet PC.  I checked the date the email was sent:  last night at 8 p.m., so I really could not have seen it much sooner.  I quickly typed a response listing the multitude of reasons it would not work, from time-wise to the fact that as of today, I have had guess how many weeks/days of actual Spanish class?

 4 weeks and 4 days 

I originally estimated 4 weeks and 2 days, so a bit more, but still not a full 8 weeks, not even close.  

I sent the email, thankfully remembered to log out (woe to me, newly certified in cyber-security awareness, if my stress level caused me to forget that...).  I then spent the next two hours trying to focus and not stress (guess how easy that was?) and ran to the computer as soon as class was finished.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I headed over to the main office and spoke with the very person who had assisted me with my class change and area studies questions.  She had just received my email and was trying to figure out what could be done.  As it turned out, the whole testing date really had nothing to do with me.  However, I still needed to change if at all possible, not just the date, but the time.

We chatted, she typed and lo and behold, a new date and time were found.  Instead of tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. (which is really 8 a.m. and I would never make), my test (all 2 hours and 15 minutes) is next Tuesday at 9 a.m.  Oh, the relief that washed over me.  Now I at least have a chance to review the testing procedures and *try* to be prepared for next week.  Lord knows, I need all the preparation I can get.

So, should any of you happen to be bored next week on Tuesday, say between 9 - 11:15 a.m., please say a silent prayer, meditate, do some yoga or just send general good thoughts a certain person's way. Hopefully, that will alleviate a bit of the paralyzing fear that I know will attack me around 8:45 a.m.  Now to go review the preterite vs. the imperfect just a few more times....

Well, it's 6 weeks later...

and I'm still exhausted from full-time school and single parenting.  In fact, I should be in bed right now, but then I would just feel guilty that I'm not up studying.

In fact, I haven't studied one iota all day long today, and that is something that should bother me...but it doesn't?  Why?  Well, perhaps because every day I go to school and think/speak in another language for 4+ hours.  I spend my lunch hours thinking in Spanish while I run errands or go home to deal with things I can't do at night.  When I do leave FSI, even if I have no errands, I am lucky to get home by 5:30 p.m. after picking up the boy.  Then there is dinner, getting the kids to bed and if I am lucky, I start on my 2-3 hours of tarea by 10, no more like 11 p.m.  On the weekends, I feel desperate to make up time (except last weekend), so when I am not dying of infections and colds (two weekends ago...we were all so sick), we do as much as we can...even if it's nothing more than hanging out at the nature center or dinner together at our favorite Chinese Restaurant (in order to celebrate Chinese New Year, as Nick is fascinated this year).

I've lost track of time and feel like I've dropped so many obligations (well, except for Kelsey's school dance last night, Thinking Day today and and and).  I know it's just for a short time, but some days it seems never-ending. I'd like to think that things would be different if Peter were home, but I can't dwell on that.  What if things were just as insane?

 

Is she adorable or what? Thanks so much to my friend Kelly over at http://wellthatwasdifferent.wordpress.com/ for sending us the dress!

Wait, is insane a strong enough word?  It doesn't cover the maybe 6 hours of sleep a night, while trying to parent, while trying to go to school, make a healthy dinner each night,  and not completely fail in a language in which I desperately need to be mostly, if not completely fluent.  I've had to give up on exercise, other than walking the dog, both due to the illness (oh, that nasty 3 inch wide infection in my hip, right in my old surgical scar) and the lack of time.  I finally had the energy and ability to jog for 10 minutes today and I thought I was going to be ill when it was over.  However, I did it and hope to *try* and fit in 15 minutes on Monday...or maybe Tuesday, we shall see.

 

 

Nick drew this tonight. I think the googly eyes are my favorite feature.  Of course, I'm just grateful I'm still in his drawing repertoire despite the insanity of the past few months.

Then there's my test.  It's been moved again, and is now even earlier.  I am already stressing it, even though I know I should just focus on getting through the next week and a half.  However, when it seems like so much is on the line...this is my ONE shot to get a good score.  If I screw this up after two months of sacrificing nearly everything, especially time with my kids, I'll never forgive myself.  I'm lucky to see Nick two hours a day during the week and so grateful he has a Montessori that he loves, but still.  I. NEED. To. Do. Well!

Given that, I should probably get some sleep.  I'm not even sure if the above makes sense.  I feel like for every item I learn in Spanish, I somehow screw something up in English. And then, when I least expect it, I start thinking in French (which I haven't taken since college).  Fabulous, right?  I suppose the only good thing is that all three kids are enjoying learning along with me.  Nick is picking up vocabulary right and left and we are working on genders (listo vs. lista, etc.).  Cait and I text and can speak paragraphs in Spanish.  Kelsey has the smallest base of knowledge, but is rapidly picking it up. Just tonight at dinner, she completely understood what I was saying without knowing any of the words (and not a short sentence either).  Then, of course, it helps that Peter and I communicate by phone, text, and email in Spanish.  Not 100% of the time, but enough that I feel like we are really discussing things, it's not me just making a conversation around what few words I know.

I suppose that is what I really want.  Not just having some rudimentary aspect of the language, or being able to ask for where I might find the leche.  No, I want to have real conversations with people who don't speak any English. I want to be able to communicate in any situation, not just when ordering para llevar for dinner (again).  I want my job options to be numerous, and not just limited to those that will not require me to think in more than one language.  I think I might be getting there...but only time will tell.

 

 

 

 

Technically

today was a sick day.  The boy was up from 5-6 a.m. with an earache and Kelsey was still congested this morning.  Being that I can't stand it when people are sick and go to work or school "just because" I figured it best to keep her home another day.  Of course, by then I wasn't feeling spectacular, partially due to lack of sleep and all three of us took a sick day.

 

Anyone recognize this snowsuit?  Yep, that 66 North stuff is built to last.

Now we also had a bit of luck last night:  it snowed!  Finally, the heavens opened and snow poured (weeelll) down and we had a slight accumulation.  Just enough to delay the start of school for two hours (pleased Cait to no end) and would have seriously complicated the day for the rest of us had we not already been under the weather.

 

Even with feeling slightly ill, the pull of the outdoors was too much for the kiddos.  By early afternoon, both were seriously ready to go outside for a bit.  Given that fresh air does a body good, I couldn't disagree.  We donned our snow gear and attempted to sled, but our sleds had suddenly disappeared.  We had to satsify ourselves with making a few snowballs, and shoveling a bit of the walk.  The fresh air did Kelsey's cold quite a bit of good and while it was freezing out, there was no way we were missing out on what could be the only snow day of the year (I'm not taking any chances).

 

 

So, we played hooky today.

I know, bad Mom, right?  Weeelll, we were driving into Arlington and about to head to Sunday school and I just couldn't stop thinking about how gorgeous it was outside.  Not too cold, sunny, and the air so clean and crisp.  What if we just had a quick lunch and then spent the afternoon in the city?  Given that the inaguration is tomorrow (and while I toyed with the notion of going, common sense quickly squealched that idea), it seemed like it would be the ideal time.

We stopped at our favorite cafe in Arlington, Northside, for "lunch."  While I had salmon and an egg, the kids chose the far more flavorful route (to them, I guess) of chocolate mousse and granola with an orange blossom doughnut (you will never, EVER consider Dunkin' Donuts after you have a doughnut from Northside).  We then got back into the car and drove a whopping 5 minutes into the city.  Despite the millions of tourists, we quickly found street parking (and free since it's Sunday.).  

One quick rant:  Being a tourist does not give you a free pass for a poor parking job, mmmm-k?  

It seemed like a rather whirlwind trip and even with the crowds, we had a chance to see many of the monuments.  Basically, we kept going until the little legs could not go anymore.  We first walked past the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.  Kelsey and Nick were asking questions, and while I tried to answer correctly, it was a bit hard.  I mean, please tell me I'm not the only person who gets choked up everything single time she visits?  I ended up giving short answers and hope they sufficed.

The Lincoln was a bit easier and while terribly full of people, we still had a good view.  Also, I would like to confirm that the iPhone is THE camera of the American tourist.  At least it seemed that way today.

We spent a bit of time at the Reflecting Pool before viewing the Korean War Veterans Memorial on the Way to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Monument.  Oh, one more brief rant:  I know some people insist that it seems like children are less respectful these days.  Do you know why?  At least today, they had a few very poor examples to follow.

As we passed the Korean War Memorial, I reminded Nick about respect, especially with regard to the monuments.  I pointed out the "no wading or standing" in the fountain area directly adjacent to the memorial.  Not 5 minutes later, Nick asked, "Why are those people standing where you told me we can't stand?"

Sigh.

We then turned to exit and walk towards the MLK, Jr. Memorial.   We saw a path from the area of the Korean War Memorial, but then noticed the sign and a fence blocking the entrance.  It wasn't a true path and was actually an area of turf reconstruction.  We turned to head to the proper exit, but not before we heard a few 30-something women discussing where to exit.

Sure enough, the ringleader of the group instantly decides, "It's okay to use that path because everyone else is doing it."

I gave her the look of death (especially as we had just discussed this very topic!), but left it at that due to the nature of the weekend.  Two minutes later, when we were out of earshot, Kelsey said, "Well, just because everyone else is doing it doesn't make it okay!"

See folks?  Let's take a bit of that blame we reserve for kids, and put it back on ourselves.  If we don't set the right example, how do we expect kids to follow?

Despite a horrific time crossing Independence Avenue (not only can tourists not park, they can't read "No Walk" signs either), we finally made it to the "King Luther" Memorial.  It was packed, but gorgeous.  I had never seen it up close before and didn't realize just how grand it was.  It felt as though we were walking through mountains and then we saw the engraving of Martin Luther King, Jr., in the side of the stone.  Absolutely beautiful and Nick was thrilled to see it in person at long last.  (As expected, it's a huge topic in our house right now).

Nick then insisted we could walk to the Jefferson, but we were all beginning to tire.  Oh, and the bathroom called.  Thank goodness I had my State ID with me, as Nick seems to have an eternal fear of porta potties and outdoor public bathrooms.  No idea, but hoping it will dissipate over time.

I thought our visit was over after our brief stop at State, but then both of them felt like giving Einstein a visit.  He definitely ranks as the cuddliest monument, and probably Nick's favorite next to the Washington Monument.  And with that, three hours later we were headed home with a very complete day behind us.  While I wish I had the energy to get us all to the Inauguration, I think a visit to the city the day before was just as fulfilling.  Some days it seems exhausting to live in this area...and other days  I remember why I absolutely love it.

 

 

 

So, the good news...

is that I have an out for Area Studies.  Not that I want to be a big ole party-pooper (and it's not a reflection on Area Studies), but in case you haven't guessed, my schedule is a bit full these days.  I arrived home tonight approximately 6 minutes before Kelsey left for her Girl Scout meeting.  And, yes, that IS a typical Monday.

So instead of spending 3 hours in two sets of discussions on Tuesday mornings, I'll spend that time watching Destinos (oh, Don Fernando, you and your gran secreto!), reviewing "Nuevas Rutas" y quizás a wee bit of exercise (while watching a Netflix pelicula en español, por supuesto!).  No, I may not have as much regional knowledge, but with only 6 weeks left in my course, I desperately need more study time.

You see, as a sort of enigma for the Spanish department, I get to opt whether I participate or not. And, by enigma, I mean EFM who was slated for the F.A.S.T. course, but tested out and is in a whole new course with employees only.  So, confusing for everyone.  Oh, and when I went to introduce myself to the Language Training Supervisor, I barely got out my first name when she said, "Dinoia, right?  Same as Peter?"

Yep, the one who doesn't fit the mold...but is very much appreciating her classes and now glad to have more time to study during the day....cause guess what?  Full-time language is crazy insane!  Two days a week I have two hours of conversation per day, plus lab and study time.  The other three days consist of four hours of conversation plus lab and/or study time.  You know what happens after four hours of conversation in a non-native language that you are still trying to learn?  Yep, I find myself not being able to think in either language.  Or spell, for that matter...not a good thing, but I know it's temporary.

I have to say, up until today, I was a bit worried.  My days are so insanely packed now that I have little to no wiggle room.  I am very lucky to get home by 6 p.m. (and we live 15 minutes from FSI, door to door) and even luckier if I get to spend an hour or two with the LG before he's off to bed.  However, today I had my first one on one sesssion.  It was better than I thought and actually gave me a good start to the day.  I followed this up with 4 more hours of conversation and couldn't even contemplate leaving FSI until 5 p.m.  However, the girls were great, Nick loved his day at school and I am learning to say no to extra obligations that I really can't take on right now.  (I suppose this sounds selfish, but in order for my investment of time and money into Spanish class to pay off, I have to make a few sacrifices).  

I am also realizing it is likely a good idea that I did not opt for the 6 month course.  While I think that would be an amazing opportunity, with three kids and a spouse you-know-where, I just don't think it was a commitment that would work for us (because you do have to consider how it affects your family, especially when only one of you can drive).  For 8 weeks, though, it is totally doable.  Now if everyone could just say a little prayer for me and/or think good thoughts between 12 and 2 p.m. on February 21st for my official evaluation, I'd appreciate it.  If it's anything like my last evaluation, I'll need all the good vibes I can take!

Yo estoy muy cansada...

and one might say, well, if you are so darn tired why don't you just go to bed? Well, I would if I didn't have more Spanish homework staring me in the face. However, the verdict so far, after 3 days in my more *advanced* class?  

SO glad I switched!

In fact, it really isn't fair to compare the classes because the fast course is truly for beginners.  If you have never taken Spanish, it's perfect.  However, as I have learned, even having a minimal background in Spanish is enough to get you bumped up.  I'm slightly embarassed, though, as I have by far the least amount of experience in my class.  And how is it?

It's just what I wanted.  I wanted a class with some "book learning" but also a lot of conversation and this has it.  In fact, each 2 hour segment is nearly all conversation, some based on the exercises, some on anticipated events in our new jobs overseas.  Since there are only 5 of us, it is very easy to have good discussions that get more involved as we (okay, as *I*) grow in our (my) language confidence. I have no idea how I am doing officially and truthfully, I'm constantly on the edge fearing I will get booted for once again insisting that I am an American male (darn that gender business!).  However, my vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds and the words I had tucked away are all appearing once again.  

The only (and I mean ONLY) downside is trying to do this while a single parent.  Yes, I know others do it all the time.  Maybe it's just our circumstances, but it's exhausting in many respects.  I have next to no time for homework and have to hope I can get everything done in the evenings without sacrificing even more time with the kids.

The upside?  On Sunday, I was able to get the house not looking like a shoo-in for Hoarders, the Lego edition, and it's pretty much stayed that way.  The girls beat me home each day, but not by much, so just enough time to walk and feed the critters and have some downtime before the LG arrives.  Despite being in class fulltime, the kids and I managed to create a menu for the week and have stuck to it thus far.  We honestly don't have the time to eat out, and I've had no problem cooking every night...which means leftovers for lunches and that makes life even easier.  Heck, I even made it to the gym today (thank God for admin hours on Wednesday afternoon)!

On the other hand, it does mean less time for outside activities.  So, if you are wondering, it's why I haven't addressed the looming issue of the current season:  

Yep...it's cookie time!

Girl Scout cookies are back and we are on those orders!  In fact, this year, we are working together with Jill and Riley to spread the cookie goodness far and wide throughout the Foreign Service.  We have made it terribly easy to enjoy those once-a-year treats that you buy en masse because they are so darn yummy (and ship well!).  

To make it easy, I have copied the "how to" from Jill's blog.  Follow these simple instructions and you, too, could be enjoying those cookies very soon!  And now...Spanish homework is calling again...

Want cookies?  Read the excerpt from Jill's post below and just follow the instructions!

First and foremost, we don't want to step on anyone's toes, so our joint efforts are focused on providing Girl Scout Cookies solely to our Foreign Service friends overseas, where we can ship to an APO/FPO/DPO or pouch address.  If you are our family members or personal friends and want to buy from us rather than from the little girlies who are SURE to knock on your door sometime in the next few months, that's great too.  But we'll take care of you outside of this joint venture.  

Just like the last few years, the cookies are only $4 / box ... with all your favorites returning!

• Thin Mints
• Samoas
• Thank You Berry Munch
• Trefoils
• Dulce de Leche
• Tagalongs
• Do-Si-Dos
• Savannah Smiles

Here's how to order:

1) Attempt to narrow down how many boxes you want (versus how many boxes your eyes and stomach want.)  

2) Send an email to DSforGS@yahoo.com by Friday, January 18th, with ...

* Your Name

* Your Post 

* Your Address

* Exactly how many of each kind you'd like

3) When the cookies come in, send us your payment via paypal, and we'll get them out to you ASAP.  We'll send you an email invoice letting you know your totals.

It's THAT simple.

We will be shipping the cookies in the USPS Flat Rate boxes. The current APO/FPO rate is $13.45 for a 12" x 12" x 5 1/2" box ... and we can fit 8 boxes of cookies in them.  And as an incentive ... you pay the first $10 / box, and we'll pick up the rest!

A wee bit of additional information  ...

** If you are at a post overseas, pass along this information to any of your friends.  We would LOVE to outfit your entire Consulate or Embassy.  

** Consider combining orders with your friends to help reduce shipping costs.

** Between the two families, our girls sold over 1100 boxes of cookies to 50+ countries during the last two years to FS personnel.  

** We set up the DSforGS@yahoo.com email address so that we could make it easy to get more cookies shipped out to more places.  If you know either of us personally and want our daughters to send out your cookies - no worries.  Just say so in your email.  Otherwise, we have divided up the world behind the scenes so that all you need to do is send in your order, and let us take care of the rest! 

Now what are you waiting for?  Happy ordering! 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes one good-bye

is just not enough.  Like today.  We dropped Peter off at Dulles and I can't say we all weren't wiping away tears.  Well, except Nick...

A predeparture lunch with the elder Sissa grinning...

Now it's Kelsey's turn...

Even Cait whipped out the tissues and was wiping her eyes as we drove off.  This did not stop the Sissas and Nick from having many an argument both to and from Dulles, but still, it was touching in its own right.

Oh, one good-bye.  As we were driving along the Access Road, a Skype call came in via Bluetooth. What did I do?  Well, duh, hung up the phone as I've never actually talked via Bluetooth before. Luckily, by the next call, I realized it was Peter and answered properly.  I wondered why he wasn't calling via his iPhone, until he hurriedly asked, "Where are you?"  He followed that up promptly with, "I left my iPhone in the car!"

Oops.  

Yep, there it was in the little cubby beneath the 8 bazillion buttons in the amazing electronics division of the new auto-mobile.  So, I replied, "Well, of course, I will turn around and get it to you ASAP!"  Except I had already missed all of the exits from the Access Road to the toll road.  Yippee, skippee, I had to wait until I hit Route 7 to turn around.

Luckily, thanks to Mr. "I had already checked in and refuse to carry anything other than a backpack" we had no worries about him meeting us at the departures area to pick up his wayword phone.  Not that the Crackberry isn't awesome, but I can't imagine the poor boy having to live 7,000 miles away from his iPhone, even for just a few weeks.

Then...that was it. It was the final good-bye (minus the 10+texts that followed).  He blew us kisses, waved and walked off.  I was fine...at that point.

Now?  Now I am between fine and a mess.  On one hand, we are fine.  Hell, we are better than fine. We have been through nearly everything DS could hand us on a platter and not only survived, but perservered.

Then there is the other part of me...the part that gets texts like these and just melts...because we shouldn't HAVE to do this.  In fact, there are people who would decide not to do so, but we don't have that luxury.

Whatever.  We knew this might be tough going in, but it's what the job requires. 

It's hard.  The ups.  The downs.  The coming and going and "WHY does Daddy have to leave again?" 

In four months (with another R&R in between), though, it will be all over. We will be back together for good and that much stronger. 

Love you, Babe, and see you soon (after I kick some you-know-what in Spanish, of course)...

 

Week 1 at FSI....

With great pomp and circumstance (and a lot of coffee), I started language classes this week at the School of Language Studies at FSI (Foreign Service Institute).  After the year 2000 debacle, also known as "No Spanish for Jen," I was not giving up this time.  Come hell or high water, I wanted to have an excellent base Spanish prior to our departure for Managua, rather than my current serviceable, but spotty coverage.

Given that our circumstances are very different this time around and that Nick is already in Montessori, I don't have to stress about the financial aspects like I did many years ago.  I don't have to fret about only being able to take an early morning class, since we didn't have the extra $1200/month for daycare (not when I wasn't working) and my class did not suddenly get switched to Main State at the last minute (as in 2000).  All in all, things were looking up from the get-go.

I did have one worry, and that was scheduling.  The only info I had been given prior to the start of class was my arrival time on Day 1.  No way to know when my classes would start or end, and I was praying for anything except an 8 a.m. start.  It's not so much that I am not a morning person, but there is no way I could guarantee my arrival, since Nick's school doesn't even open until 7:30 a.m. Not to mention, that would mean Kelsey would need to be up by 7:15 every morning and while she can get herself ready (yes, she does her own breakfast & lunch), if she missed the bus....

I walked into the orientation on Wednesday with quite a bit of trepidation.  It was odd for Peter to drop me off, while he had the day to tool around in the new car (safe to say we are both enjoying our new Pilot!).  I was worried about getting lost or my i.d. not working, but neither one happened, and I was in my seat 30 minutes prior to the start of the orientation for all language classes.  

It was fairly short and sweet and then we were divided up by language.  When we arrived in our Spanish orientation location, we were all greeted with books and schedules.  I looked through my packet, found our schedule and rejoiced, as my class would start at 10 a.m.  Sure, it wouldn't end until 4:15 p.m., but Nick's daycare goes until six and after all, we did allocate a hefty amount to the child care FSA for this exact reason.

Guess what?  I was the only one at my table rejoicing.  Apparently the time did not work for anyone else.  By the end of the day, it was switched to 8 a.m. to accomodate the rest of the class, and I was wondering how this would all play out.  Well, it didn't take long to figure out that maybe I wasn't in the right class after all.

When Peter signed me up, the only option was the F.A.S.T. course.  This was fine with me, as the timing worked and I assumed that the classes were geared towards level.  Not exactly...the FAST course is basic and geared towards survival.  If you say, took a year in high school, lived overseas in a Spanish-speaking country for two years and continued to learn Spanish on your own...it may not be the right fit. (If you have no Spanish, and want to get a good working knowledge, I think it would be perfect.)

By Thursday morning, I knew I had to speak to someone.  We had met with the teacher on Wednesday, very briefly, and I learned that I had different goals from the other students.  Between that and the timing of the class, I was worried that staying in the class might mean that I not get as much as out of the class as I had hoped I would.  

I headed to the Spanish department yesterday morning and spoke with one of the directors. My needs regarding the timing of the class and my (limited) background in Spanish were taken into consideration and by 2:45 yesterday, I had finished my evaluation.  While it was not stellar, the evaluator could tell that my comprehension was decent (verbs need some work).  She recommended a different placement so that I could expand and grow my knowledge, rather than focus on days of the week, the alphabet, colors and the like.  I turned in my old books, recieved a new set of training materials and was told to come back at 10 a.m. today.

Just prior to my arrival Friday morning, I received two emails indicating that I had been switched to 8 weeks of the regular Spanish class.   I then chatted with the same director I met with yesterday (in the afternoon) and he indicated that there would be a class with several of us that would begin on Monday.He even mentioned something about me having a score of a 1 (I was hoping for 0+, so go me!) and although he didn't confirm it, I was thrilled.

Why?  Well, other than that one year of high school Spanish, I have NO formal training.  Yes, I took classes at the Embassy, but while they were helpful, it was not a regular class divided into levels.  No certificates, no testing, more of a drop-in scenario.  Helpful, but I needed something more intense.

Now I have it and I can't help but be a wee bit proud of myself.  The year in high school, two years in Caracas, working with Pete somewhat and just trying to learn more Spanish on my own paid off. Even better, I stood up and said something and the instructors agreed my background was sufficient to change my class.  I'm not sure how it will turn out in the end, if I will be writing essays in Spanish or still working on lone paragraphs, but I do know one thing:  I will feel far more prepared for this post and feel much better having tackled another language more thoroughly.  Now, off to study....

 

{this moment}: First Batch

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. One photo - only a few words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

Kelsey has been aching to make sugar cookies.  We finally found a good recipe and the dough is being transferred to the fridge as I type this post.  I have not helped other than to buy ingredients and be the official dough taster.  Given the perfection of the dough, I can't wait to sample the finished product.

And MED says....

Class 1, baby!

Yes, perhaps the biggest Christmas gift of them all showed up in Peter's inbox today. No fuss, no muss, just a Class 1/Worldwide Available clearance for me.  I'll detail the process at some point, however, I have to say, it was not nearly as difficult or onerous as I expected.  Huge sighs of relief all around in our household tonight....

 

If you are completely and utterly confused, as you are new to the blog and can't possibly imagine why I wouldn't have a Class 1, you can review the beginning to the whole sordid story here.  If you have no idea what a Class 1 is or why one might want one, stay tuned.  More info to come in an upcoming post, but right now, I just need to celebrate before I'm out of date nights!

From our house to yours...

 

Status Quo

was the name of the game yesterday.  I had my annual exam with the breast surgeon and of course, my blood pressure was through the roof (124/69, if you must know...normally 90/69, white coat syndrome much?).   I was seeing a different doctor than usual (my breast surgeon was unavailable) and that just added to my stress.

The good news?  I nearly forgot about the appointment, as I've been so busy.  The bad news?  Well, there wasn't any.

In fact, I received compliments galore (again) on my skin care.  The new doctor was very impressed with the way I have taken care of my post-radiation skin and found nothing at all to concern her.  The only huge issue of the day was the proposed MRI.  The onocologist asked about it in August (no, I don't see her again until March), and it was basically up to the breast surgeon.  She was extremely ambivalent and finally said the decision was mine.

Given that I am lousy with decisions, I threw it back to her.  I said if she was fine with no MRI, I would be ecstatic with that decision.  Her take?

I'm just not high risk enough and there's a good chance insurance would deny it.

Good enough for me.  So glad yet another person feels like this is just a fading blip...and Merry (early) Christmas to me!

 

122 Days Later

Good thing we had the Peter D. Tracker in high gear, as his flight landed 27 minutes early.  Given that he refuses to bring anything other than a backpack, he generally flies through customs and is in the arrivals area in Dulles in no time.

He was not expecting me.  I swore up and down I would not pick him up, in order to throw him off my trail.  Meanwhile, back in October, I secured Dr. Salty Dog to come over at o'dark thirty so the kids would not be alone while I made the trek to the airport. As IF I'd let him rely on a taxi to get him home after 122 days away (but we did NOT count...well, the kids didn't).

I hid behind a pillar the minute his flight was said to be in customs.  Within minutes, he came out of those double doors and looked right at me, only to look away.  I stepped out, he looked back in my direction...and, oh, the waterworks that would have started had we both not been utterly exhausted and in a not-so-public place.

So, after 4 months of ups and downs, crankiness and utter joy, the kids being saints...and the kids being kids, Peter arrived safe and sound.  And, I have to say, the timing was impeccable.

Just last week, I was berating myself for not having our holiday cards ready, for being behind on Christmas (not totally, just a bit), for not having completely renovated the house while he was gone, for my crankiness (okay, that I earned), for everything.  Then, over the past few days, it really hit me:

Forget the gifts.  Forget everything else.  Our little family is together for Christmas and especially this year, after Peter survived another 4 months in a war zone, that's ALL that matters.  Not the perfect tree, gorgeously wrapped gifts or a table groaning with Christmas treats.  Nothing else matters but that we are together, safe and sound as a family.  Everything else is irrelevant.

We are so grateful to simply be together as a family at long last...truly the most important gift.

 

Forget about the NORAD

Santa Tracker, because we've got the Peter D. Tracker in high gear.  We aren't counting, but according to the Dulles website, his flight is scheduled to land in 6 hours and 32 minutes.  While for the most part, the time has been flying, I can't admit that the past few days have had the patience meter at an all time low (sorry, kids) and the stress level a bit higher.

I was even a bit worried that perhaps that might lead to that eternal problem of the days dragging immediately prior to a loved one's arrival.  However, I forgot that we had not one, but TWO Christmas parties today and that is in addition to all of the other insanity.  We have been so crazy lately, that I even let the girls each beg out of an activity on Sunday.  Sometimes I just can't do the work of two parents. Today, however, was not too shabby.

We started off with Nick's Montessori Christmas party.  Crafts, a holiday puppet show (apparently last year's recycling puppet show, which I loved, was not seasonal enough), a sing-a-long (yes, the boy sang), more Christmas cookies than you can shake a stick at AND...a visit from the big man himself. Yes, Santa Claus.

 

Thinking about it....

Welll...

Combination of "No, way" and the *look* I get for taking a third photo. (Yes, this is my favorite :-)

 

There has been a lot of introspection at our house this year about Santa, as well as baby Jesus.  Are they real?  Are they spirits?  Even St. Nicholas was not left out of the discussion and while we have not come to a definite conclusion, suffice it to say, Nicholas thinks deeply on these matters...and I find that so heartwarming.

Now, as for Santa...while we normally discuss him, Nicholas has had zero (capital Z) interest visiting with him in the past.  We did not push him as we figured that either it would interest him at some point, or we would save a boatload taking *Santa* photos (yes, with someone else's kid) from 40 feet away.  Today I asked off hand if he wanted to see him and imagine my shock when he said, "Yes."

Nick decided that he did not want to sit on his lap, simply stand within the vicinity (so I could snap a photo) and close enough so Santa could hand him his treat.  He took the vicinity part very seriously and was quite literally an arm's length away from the mythical creature.  He took the gift, made no mention of desires and allowed me 3 photos.

Amazing, right?

Yet there was more to come for the day.  Despite the fact that I am a bit, well, exhausted (not sure that is strong enough), we had yet another holiday party.  We had once again been invited to the annual Unaccompanied Tour party at the State Department.  It is always held in the Ben Franklin room, with sweet treats galore and a visit from the Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton.  Nick and Kelsey love to go each year, if for nothing else, to clean out (I mean, peruse) the candy bar and take a glance at the Washington Monument (spectacular views from the balcony).

 

Like Halloween in December....

He never tires of this view...

We took our time today, sampling the treats (and creating *care packages* for our loved ones overseas/on a plane home), skipping the photo booth (for the time being) and enjoying the brisk weather and amazing views outside.  As we came back inside for a warm-up, we were led into the Ben Franklin Room for the show.

 

I could tell there was a buzz in the air.  There was a brief welcome and with little to no ado, the musical act was introduced.  Who was it?  Oh, just...James Taylor, his wife, and Owen Young, his accompanying cellist.  Get out, right?

 

Yes, this UT Holiday Party quite literally rocked.

Seriously.  The kids were maybe 8 feet from him and sat there entranced for the entire mini concert of 5 songs.  It was amazing, beautiful and uplifting.  I think most of us forgot why were were there for a minute...mostly because at least a few of us were thinking, "Hello, James Taylor! A private concert with James Taylor!!"

 

My kids...James Taylor...my kids completely, utterly and totally captivated by James Taylor.

We did not end up getting to hear Secretary Clinton speak, but certainly understandable given the situation.  Her thoughts were read by Pat Kennedy, as he spoke following our mini-concert. And after?

 

Kelsey created mine and surprised me with a delightfully decorated red velvet cupcake.

Well, there was cupcake decorating courtesy of Charm City Cupcakes , a photo booth (the aforementioned that Nick was determined to avoid....), more yummy treats and, duh, friends!  My kids and I were thrilled that Jill and her kids were there, I had a chance to visit with my friend, Jen (and meet her gorgeous girls) and met my friend Hannah's husband.  Sadly, I have yet to meet Hannah in person, but hopefully we will rectify that situation soon...perhaps with barbeque and a lot of Pancho's?

 

The photo booth photos...ignore the tired looking lady behind the curtain!

All in all, a supremely good day...one that left me a little tired, but in a good way...because in fewer than 6 hours, I will gladly be turning over the dishwashing, toilet cleaning and general household management to someone who I have a feeling will be very, very happy to *only* do that for the next few weeks.

But really...I'm still stuck on a private concert with James Taylor...a-freaking-mazing!  Maybe I'll have a listen to my complimentary cd (and did I mention the iTunes gift card?) while I'm spending the next few weeks in my recliner....

 

I have a Christmas wish

And it's entitled, "Let's cut our kids a little slack...because it's Christmas."

I KNOW!  The HORROR!  It's almost Christmas, those little elves are supposed to be ratting everyone out (while they dive-bomb the chocolate bowl) and Santa is making his list, right?  Or is he making a list of parents who are so tired and can't get their sh*t together that they resort to bribing their kids with regard to the Big Guy and his flying menagerie?  Cause, you know, that engraved iPod Touch can't go back to the store, so Johnny's gotta get his act together, right?

Or maybe, we, as parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, you name it...maybe WE need to get our act together.  Quit being so selfish and thinking that our kids have to be perfect.  Quit insisting they need to be little robots and perfect in everything from school to chores.  Quit insisting after a long day, that another party/conversation/event is just what they need instead of some quiet play time.

Maybe realize that the excitement they have about Christmas, whether it is about the Baby Jesus' birth or the Big Guy in Red, sometimes leads them down a not-so-primrose path.  They are so overwhelmed by the events, the go-go-go of Christmas time (or Hannukah, whatever you celebrate) that they get a wee bit excited.  

How about giving kids a break when their family life is a bit stressed, whether it be from a parent being overseas, numerous deaths in the family, or the state of craziness in the nation weighing them down?   I don't know about anyone else, but sometimes, I think we've lost sight of the holidays.  We worry more about where we can get the best deal, instead whether we are all sitting down together for dinner at night.  We fret if stores aren't open late, and we worry about quantity vs. quality under the tree, instead of being grateful that we can have a tree and presents.  Most of all, though, we spend entirely too much time worrying, and not enough time enjoying the existence we are lucky enough to still have.

 

It's been over three

months since I wrote the post about how I thought time *might* fly between now and Peter's next R&R.  In fact, it's been going so fast, that I've been wondering how to slow things down.  It seems just as we wrap up one holiday, the next is upon us.  And as I type this, I realize two weeks from today the entire family will be back together, as it should be.

We are already nearly 7 months into Peter's tour and instead of being stressed about him being gone, I'm stressing about the move!  It seems like we have so many things up in the air (schools, actual date of departure, when/where to buy our next car), that I have little to no time to actually miss him.  And the kids?

We are still on the Skype twice/month plan.  Even with phone calls, half the time when I ask Nicholas if he wants to talk, "No, thank you, " is the answer.  This doesn't bother me as to me it means the kids have adjusted well to his absence. They do miss him and talk with him, but given the time difference, it's not surprising they don't want to do it on command (and it would be a bad, bad idea to make them).  

Once Peter departs after his second R&R, we will only have about 4 months left in his tour and 3 weeks of that is his third R&R (yes, it's true, don't tell Nick, but we are likely doing Disney in Orlando).  After that, it's home leave which will encompass pack-out time and then our departure.  Last year, at this time it seemed like forever until we would leave for Managua.  Now I wish I could get the days to slow down just a bit...even with Peter gone, as there is just so much to do before we leave...well, at least we aren't bored...and in two weeks, together again, even if only briefly.

Seven years....

ago this morning I got the phone call I never wanted to get.  Instead of Mom finally seeing the doctor who could help her, we had to fly home from Iceland, plan her funeral and begin trying to figure out her estate.  All things I had assumed I would not have to worry about for years came crashing down on me at once.

Even years later, I still feel as though I am figuring things out.  I still have boxes of memorabilia in the garage, tons of photos to go through and the feeling that I probably gave away stuff I shouldn't have and kept knick-knacks maybe I don't need.  However, it's not so much that it's overwhelming and some of the more important items have a special place in a quiet corner of the dining room.

I had promised myself I would get back up to Pennsylvania this fall, but failed. I don't think we've had a free weekend in ages and then there is the issue of wanting to pack up and take another trip.  If she were still here and we could actually visit her and have quality time with Grandma, that would have been one thing.  Maybe I'll have more get up and go in the spring and we can combine with a trip to other relatives.

It's still hard to believe, at times, that she isn't here.  Not that I expect her to answer a phone or an email, but especially this year, it would have been so nice to have her a bit closer.  I know she would have enjoyed the election excitement, we would have had at least one fall visit and she would have gotten to know the Little Guy that much more.

Since that's not happening, I remind myself that I simply have to keep her memory alive.  I must be doing something right, as Nick is always asking about her and bringing her up in conversation.  It's so healthy and such a relief that my kids know they can ask without feeling like they've upset me.

In fact, it reminds me of all that she did while she was alive.  How much she accomplished, just in her attitude and behavior.  How she had so many friends and was so open.  She had not a racist or bigoted bone in her body.  

Just as important was her ability to parent and to let go at the same time.  Oh, sure, sometimes her advice made me a bit crazy.  However, it was borne from a true caring and even more importantly, she would put it into action for herself.  

She gave me confidence as a parent by believing in me.  Not foisting her beliefs or norms on me, but trusting in me that I would do what was best for my family.  Even more importantly, she loved unconditionally.  Not that I ever expected to do anything that would break with her ideals, but had I, she would love me just the same.  

I realize not everyone is so lucky.  I often wonder about her dying so close to Thanksgiving.  Then I think of the many wonderful gifts she gave me:  tolerance, acceptance, an open mind...and I am so grateful beyond words.

Love you and miss you, Mom.

{this moment}: All By Himself

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Every Thursday is pizza day at Nick's Montessori. On Wednesday, each child sends in two dollars. They count the money and make sure they have enough and then a teacher places the order. Nick has insisted each week that he write his own name (his full name), and this is this week's effort.

{this moment}: Snow!

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

The Pennsylvania Turnpike was kind to us in more than one way during our trip to Ohio.  Snow in the Allegheny Mountains made for one very happy LG.

Well, we are just all

tuckered out.  It's been a long few days.

 

Being a travel buddy is exhausting.

 

From the logistics of trying to plan to attend the visitation and Grandpere's funeral around 4 different schedules to the actual 510 mile drive, it's been nuts.  I kept feeling like I needed a little something else these past few days...like another me...or maybe that missing Dad-Guy?  I'm telling you, a tele-porter or some other gadget that could have *magicked* Peter home even for a few hours would have been insanely helpful.

That did not happen, though, but I did have several extremely thoughtful friends come through for me (yes, AGAIN, I know) and more waiting in the wings to help, and for that I am SO grateful.  While I would have loved all 4 (oh, heck all 5!) of us to be here, in one sense, given school is in session, it is much easier that I just came with the Little Guy.  Less for the girls to worry about missing and Cait got that appointment in with the orthodontist that she just could not wait to attend (not)!

I don't know whether Grandpere already has pull up there with the traffic gods, but there was another gift: the drive itself.  The Pennsy turnpike was not her normal beastly self and allowed us to just zip on through.  There was even snow in the Alleghenies which just sent Nick into a tailspin of excitement. Oh, what a travel buddy he has been...

 

Every travel buddy needs a sword, shield, and a chocolate muffin to keep the good *carma.*

I barely had to say a word during the trip, as the boy was so self-entertaining.  We had discussions on everything from the move to reviewing the entire family tree.  He reminded me how we had to ensure that the movers packed the candelabra, because we will need it next year in Managua.  He also pointed out that someone else will be living in our house, and we can't leave it there.  So, good to know someone is on top of that important stuff 8 months ahead of our move!

And the visit...it was nice in many respects.  A family reunion like we haven't had in ages, and while it was not the happiest of occasions, I feel as though we truly celebrated a life.  No, Grandpere didn't make it to 100 as Kelsey would have hoped (she desperately wanted to have a relative reach 100 years), but he came pretty darn close (Kelsey decided that she will live to 100 instead).

Love you and miss you Grandpere, but you made an indelible imprint in our lives.  You will never be forgotten...

 

The fam....

 

 

 

 

{these moments} : Four years...what a difference

{these moments} - A Friday ritual. Two  photos- no words - capturing moments from the week. Simple, special, extraordinary moment. Moments I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

 

So grateful for last-minute absentee voting in person!  Idea courtesy of Soulemama.

Boo...was supposed to be

the title of this post, but sadly the surprise was on me.

This Halloween started out as a gorgeous day, considering the recent weather.  My mood is significantly improved over recent years, and while I wasn't quite ready to decorate for Halloween on Labor Day, I certainly came around in the past few weeks.  Our abode was strung with lights inside and out, candles everywhere, scary skull and spider banners and, my ulitmate thrift shop find:  an awesome black candelabra complete with spooky candles in place.

The kids planned their costumes, as usual, and did a fantastic job.  Cait was a last-minute Batgirl, Kelsey a vampire (with makeup help from Cait) and Nick was a knight (I think he was jealous of his buddy, Nate's cool costume).  By the time the first trick or treaters rolled around, I had the candy ready, Halloween music going, the lights flickering upstairs (go eco-friendly light bulbs!) and the pumpkins lit. Nicholas happily doled out candy to the first few sets of children and couldn't understand why they should *only* receive two pieces.

 

In Jack & Janet's Halloween decoration extravaganza.

The Little Guy and Kelsey lasted (as I expected) about three streets (and not even complete ones).  We had an additional destination, an annual visit to our friends in Alexandria, so Cait continued to hand out candy while we were gone.  Jack and Janet always have a most awesome display, and even with the hurricane threatening things, Jack did a bang-up job getting everything ready in an afternoon.  Sweet Kelsey even offered a bag of our candy when she heard they were *running low* after, what, 640 visitors?!

Enjoying their hauls...

 

Bestest candy-hander outer ever!

All in all, Halloween was awesome. Not what you expect when you are a single parent and feeling like you roll from one holiday to the next.  This was fun and easy (probably as Kelsey did an amazing amount of decorating) and I really got into the spirit this year.  Perhaps the only sad part was the phone call I received this afternoon...

 

And I knew...I knew what it was...it happens quite frequently, when I just *know* what the bad news will be, whether or not it is expected.  And this was not expected...yet...but today, my grandfather, affectionately deemed "Grandpere" by my grandmother upon my birth, died at the age of 99.

 

Grandmere et Grandpere circa...1988?

99...seriously, 99 years.  I am sad that he is no longer with us, but amazed that he had so much time. He knew all of his grandchildren and met all 4 great-grandchildren.  He came to my baptism, my first communion, and my wedding.  He was completely different from my other grandfather (as grandfathers should be) but amazing in his own way.  So quiet much of the time, yet he exuded the sort of companionable silence that is never uncomfortable.  

 

Grandpere with a newly born Cait, September 1998.

Nick and I will be off this weekend, once I can work things out for the girls.  We will go for the celebration of Grandpere's life and remind ourselves that even though he is gone, we did have so many special times together.

 

Missing you, Grandpere.

Love, 

Your Sport Buddy (a somewhat ironic nickname given my athletic *ability,* but I loved it)

 

 

It's almost over....and then I swear I'll

shut up and say thank God it's November.  Yes, the month of October is winding down and hopefully, we will see a lot less of *this* stuff out there.

 

I was actually admiring this soy candle at Great Country Farms until I saw this label on the back.

 

At a book sale;  I certainly understand why this was donated.

 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  I loathe the pink ribbon. If I never see another one, it will be too soon.  Why?

• There cannot be people not aware of this issue where pink ribbon items are sold.
• Just because there is a pink ribbon, does not mean money is going to your organization of choice.  You need to actually read the fine print and see if it is indeed benefitting a non-profit (and we know the K group...well, not a non-profit in my mind).
• Ask yourself, do I *need* this item?  If not, why not just make a direct donation to the organization the funds are benefitting?  I guarantee, a direct $5 donation will do a lot more good than 30 cents from the purchase of make-up that likely contains carcinogens or other nasty ingredients.
• Think about those who have been affected by breast cancer.  Do you think that 30 cents would be well spent on that make-up/pink pot/water bottle, or could you use it towards a lunch out/card/coffee treat with the person?  
• Last, but not least, there is SO much pressure out there regarding breast cancer awareness. Yes, be aware, buying a cruddy water bottle is not going to make anyone else more aware (except that you've likely paid too much for said bottle).  Don't forget other diseases and worries exist and they need your attention, too.  What about lung or pancreatic cancer? Childhood illnesses?  Food and shelter for those who don't have it?

 

I wonder if the product researcher actually uses this stuff?

Or does she read the ingredient list and know better? Scary, huh?

 

In fact, the commercialism regarding this issue just makes me sick.  It's pushed, pushed, pushed and the reality is that there is a lot of crap out there that could kill us.  Yes, there needs to be research on it, but there are other issues that need dollars thrown at them, too.  Breast cancer is neither pink nor pretty.  Let's all stop buying into the hype now and put our money where WE feel it should go...not what some corporation wants.

 

A cobb salad will not save lives...and I don't even want to think about what's in the dressing.

 

 

I rarely shop at Safeway anyway, but stunts like this just ensure I won't be back.

I will very glad to not be hassled at the cash register anymore, either by the machine OR the clerk.  No, thank you, I do not want to donate to *breast cancer.*  Seriously?

 

 

Hanging in there?

Yeppers, we are.  We had had somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 flickers, but no *outage* lasted longer than 5 seconds.  Yes, I realize we are still in the middle of the whole thing, but, here's the deal:

this is taking me right back to our last year in Reykjavik.

Remember this?

 

Cait & Josie investigate the remains of the trampoline.

 

Gale-force windstorms on a regular basis that shook the house...the wind whistled around what felt like an aluminum foil construction (in reality, a bit stronger) for hours.  In fact, the destruction above took place the night before Nicholas Quinn was due (due...not born!).  The kids can thank (and Pete can blame) the same winds for their only day off from school in 3 years.  No snow days (nope, not even with a foot or more of snow...but guaranteed sledding at recess), but they did get 7/8 of a day off in December 2007 when the winds were so high that flights were canceled out of Keflavik.  Now, if you want a windy day...well, if Icelandic pilots aren't flying, that's some weather craziness!

The winds have officially reached the point where they remind of that winter.  The house is quite sound and we don't hear that much, but the dog's extraoridinarily quick sojourn tonight was enough to give me that familiar feeling.  You know, the one that says it's time to skedaddle inside now?

Am I worried or scared?  Nope.  We dealt with this on a weekly basis, if not more, in Reykjavik that last year.  However, I'd also add that I won't be venturing outside for a long walk until the winds die down just a bit.  I'm grateful for my warm and cozy house (still with electricity!) and think I will enjoy the excuse to spend another day hanging out in my jammies.

 

I'm fairly sure fort-building was all the rage today....

 

Sandy is coming....

and we are ready....I think.

We have an abundance of food, mostly fruits and veggies, stored in the fridge that should last for several days even without power.  I have bags of ice and empty coolers ready to go.  The car is gassed up and I've done tons of laundry the past few days.

We have a gas stove.  Barring a gas outage (which we have not had to date...knock on wood it won't happen), we will be able to cook.  I loathe electric stovetops and vow never to have one again if I can help it (and being able to cook during a power outage is invaluable).  

 

See? Is that prep or what?!

 

I have the car-jump thingy that can also charge my cell phone ready to go and oodles of candles and matches.  Kelsey has flashlights galore, Nick has tons of energy and Cait has volunteered to sleep through the whole thing, if need be (you have no idea the sacrifice).

 

Might as well enjoy the autumn scents...

 

Of course, we have water, and I won't have to worry about oodles of empty bottles in the recycling bin.  They claim recycling and garbage will be picked up tomorrow, but I genuinely hope they change their minds if it's remotely crazy.

 

Yep, I know...a water crock and stand just scream Foreign Service and to think I thought about donating them!

 

Last, but not least, perhaps the most important items that will help me through the next few days...

 

I swtiched to a dripper years ago, so only need hot water for a good cup...

I think given they canceled school at 2 p.m. today...well, the need for this goes without saying.

 

And if things get really bad?  I'm safehavening myself in the basement with my iPhone and Halloween candy.   Hopefully, this will all blow over very quickly, but if not, and you need me....just look for that trail of the candy wrappers....

(I'm not worried about us...but, seriously, folks anywhere near us...please be safe!!).

{this moment}: Foreign Service Friendships Rock

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Cait & Heiða, friends since our move to Iceland in 2005.

This photo says it all.  Well, almost all, you can't see the two bags of kleinur (now 1.5 bags...) Heiða brought us.  Yum!

Being that

Grandpa Kirk was in town last weekend, we felt it only proper that we do a bit of the touristy thing.  Well, truth be told, we'd planned this agenda item ages ago, as it is fall in Northern Virginia and we cannot pass up a trip to Great Country Farms.

Did I mention Saturday was utterly gorgeous?

It is the third year in a row we have managed to spend the day out there with the Salty Dog Crew (and extended family) and it was, of course, a blast.  We didn't manage every single activity, but Nick and Kelsey finally got to see P-Rex eat a pumpkin, Kelsey did the swing-thing, Nick hung out with Nate and Dad and I thought the place might shut down with Nick and Kelsey still on the bouncy pillow thing.

Oh, and Cait?  Yep, she went and had a blast hanging out with Nate in the playground and the cow train.  However, she also took some private time to read in a quiet area and I can't say I blame her, as it was the perfect day to read and laze a bit while everyone else runs around.

Of course we took pictures by the giant pumpkin and the ruler. I've posted pics from last year, as I simply cannot believe this is the same little guy from a year ago.  His face has changed so much and, seriously, when did that happen?

 

October 8, 2011

October 20, 2012....Seriously, is that the same Little Guy?!

 

My Kelsey D., just a wee bit taller (okay, several inches).

She is actually 5'8". The sign is tilted, so she doesn't get her full height credit.

And if you are wondering, I just didn't have the heart to tell Kelsey there is likely not a Great Country Farms in Managua.  Guess we will just have to make do with a weekend at the beach instead!

 

{this moment}: Little Teachers' Night

{this moment} - A Friday ritual (two days late, sorry). One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Little Teachers' Night at Nick's Montessori.  Grandpa came along...what a special treat!

Idea courtesy of Soulemama.

I've got class!

No, really, stop laughing, as of January 2, I will begin Spanish at FSI!  Just an 8 week Fast Course, but given that I don't see myself debating foreign policy in Spanish, I will probably be set with that and maybe a follow-up distance learning course.

I cannot tell you how happy, happy, happy this makes my little heart.  Why?  Well, I've probably never blogged this story, but I have not had as much Spanish instruction as I would like.  Yes, I can say "creespy cheecken streeps" with the best of them (how you HAD to order chicken strips at the Friday's in Caracas), but that didn't get me too far in political debates with my housekeeper.  Then again, she was a Chavista, so that was a no-go to begin with.

So, back in 2000, I was all set to take Spanish.  Peter had signed me up for an early morning course, as I was no longer working full-time and we did not have the extra $1000K/month just to put Cait in daycare so I could go to class.  We only had one car, so it was already going to require careful coordination for me to get to class, back home, and get the car to Peter.

I was STOKED, though.  Any class was better than nothing, right?  So, I showed up bright and early at the proper location at FSI on the first day of class.  I gave my name and pertinent info and was promptly told, "Oh, that class was moved."  Oh?

Yes.  They moved it to Main State.  In the city, with no parking and rush hour traffic.  Fabulous.  I slinked back home and realized it would be self-tutoring, remembering one year of high school Spanish and classes at the Embassy, if I was lucky.  As it turned out, I did quite well with that and other than the cheese guy not understanding me when I clearly said, "cheddar," I had no issues.  I could communicate with my maid, get the meat at the butcher and the grocery store was a lesson in and of itself.  My past tense sucked, but my vocabulary rocked and that's all that mattered to me.

Fast forward 12 years (gulp).  Peter's out of the country, all three kids are in school and no one else is vying (yet) for the use of the car.  So, yippee-skippee, I am going to rock the heck out of that 8 weeks of Spanish!  I think I've earned it! 

And while we are on the topic of State again, I'll throw another tip (you know, tip #1:  you can survive on one year of high school Spanish in Caracas, even though you shouldn't have to do so).  I've been hearing again that not everyone is aware of certain *benefits* (if you will) of an unaccompanied tour.  Now, mind you, this does not include those on UTs who are doing them voluntarily (e.g., for educational or other reasons).  However, if your spouse is overseas, say in A, I or P, and you are in the U.S. or on virtual ISMA while overseas and have children who would like to meet him or her somewhere, they are allotted one trip per year to see said parent.

Yep, I kid you not.  I didn't believe it at first, but it is true.  It is very clear in the FAM and is allowed due to the nature of the circumstances.  Let's face it, Dad isn't over there yukking it up and having a fabulous time and you might be here getting a little stressed out over being a parent 24 hours a day/7 days a week/365 days a year.  So, if you decide it's easier for one R&R to be somewhere in the middle, voila, the kids' airfares are covered (yours is not, but still...).  

Only cost of the flight is covered, but that alone can be a huge help.  Mind you, this applies to those who are in the States or who have PCS*-ed overseas and are receiving virtual ISMA.  If one decided to remain at a previous overseas post (via TDY**) while the other parent embarked on the UT, the children would not be eligible for said travel. Another issue to ponder while already making a tough decision.

And before anyone gets their panties in a wad, remember, when the officer serves at an unaccompanied post, the whole family serves.  Something like this can make a year of hardships a tad bit easier.  Where will we go?  Only time will tell....

*Permanent Change of Station

** Temporary Duty

 

 

{these moments}: Fall for Peter

{these moments} - A Friday ritual. Four photos- no words - capturing moments from the week. Simple, special, extraordinary moment. Moments I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

Peter saw a photo last week of turning leaves and gasped, "Is it fall there already?  I miss the leaves!"  So sending a bit of autumn spirit his way. Idea courtesy of Soulemama.

When I can't think of anything good to do

I Google things I shouldn't.  I also do this when I have weird pains and I utterly convinced that my arm is about to fall off due to a sydrome that I don't have but feel the need to stress about anyway.  

Tonight I had a few aches in my hand and despite doing 60 kettleball reps yesterday and a vigorous rowing workout today, I assumed the worst.  You'll have to guess (or make something up) if you don't know what it is that is worrying me as I can't even type the word...the thought of it ever happening worries me that much.  Anyway, I hemmed and hawed and finally Googled my symptoms and the worst case scenario...and

of course they don't match up.  Duh.  I knew that.  Guess what though?  It hit me that I had not Googled anything related to you-know-what in AGES. (Other than the non-medical blog stuff).  Go, me!  And, yes, it sounds silly, but a few years ago I was driving myself insane with Dr. Google.  Now I am looking up normal stuff like "awful black looking allergy thing on eye."  (Poor Pete has some awful bug bite/allergy thing going on...).

So, while I was stressing about that which I don't have, Nick reminded me just how adorable age 4 can be.  He knows Pete is coming home at Christmas, and has already secured an appointment for a post-gift opening light saber fight.  However, he forgot once again how long Pete will stay.

"So, Dad is coming home to open gifts and then is going right back to Afghanistan?"

Nope, he is going to stay for several weeks.

"Oh, GOODY, then I can sleep next to him that night!"

If THAT doesn't tug at your heartstrings, I don't know what does....that Little Guy...too awesome for words.

 

I know I should just say no

and leave well enough alone, but the pink ribbons are about to strangle me.  Every time I read yet another article on awareness or see more frosted pink cookies in the grocery store (cause that's prevention right there....of what, I have no idea), it reminds me of another topic.  It's a word overused and abused in my opinion and I'm going to have my say and be done with it.

I will add the caveat that you can feel free to disagree, however, unless you have been in the *exact* (and I mean EXACT) same scenario, it can be very difficult to understand how another feels.  So, the word of the month that I will be thrilled if I never hear again, lest it be in relation to a reality show that I've never watched?  

Yep, it's the "S" word:  Survivor.

I would like to make one thing abundantly clear:  I do not now and never will, tag myself as a survivor of breast cancer.  I no more call myself that than I do a survivor of the flu, chicken pox or 5 years of strep throat (seriously...that was brutal).  Yet, from the day of my diagnosis, without my permission, doctors, nurses, and the like slapped that word on me faster than you can say #thinkbeforeyoupink.  

I called and left a message for someone about an exercise class (called "Pink Ribbon Pilates" no less) and got a return message for the "breast cancer survivor."  Except there is one problem:  I was never in any danger.  I had a lump, I had it removed, I did the radiation (the jury is still out on that one) and that was that.  My breasts did not try to strangle me, I did not hover near death during the surgery and I never had any intention of not going back to my old normal.

Yet, from day one I was tagged and labeled.  I couldn't escape it anywhere I went.  I was supposed to jump up and down about being a survivor.  Oh, gee, goody, had part of my chest removed, 3 painful surgeries to replace it, loads of nasty doctors appointments, and I'm supposed to be esctatic that I got through all of that and do a pink ribbon happy dance?  I'd rather just not have done it all in the first place.  However, many of the doctors and other staff using the term don't seem to think about how they would feel if it affected them.  They just stamp it on your forehead and go on their merry way.

As does the media.  In fact, I actually found someone to blame for this whole debacle a while back.  I won't drag his/her name through the mud, but apparently a few years back, someone decided that the word survivor was appropriate for anyone and everyone.  Even though each person's experience is different and some might have a cakewalk compared to the next person.  

So, without so much as a "how do you do," I've had the word bandied about like it's a compliment.  Well, to me, it's not.  It's just another reminder of a few months that I would rather have never experienced. Having to not go to our follow-on post?  Forcing my husband to curtail his tour of duty?  Losing part of myself and feeling pushed and pulled in so many directions with regard to follow-up?  Not something I really want to focus on.

More to the point:  I hate labels. HATE them.  If we insist as parents that it is a bad idea to label kids, why do we suddenly think adults will appreciate it, especially when it is a reminder of a not-so-stellar time?  Well, not all of us do.

I'm not asking anyone to radically change their vocabulary.  I'm not asking anyone to give up the label survivor, IF they are okay with that. Some people might well be and that is fine with me, as they may well have endured much, much more and truly feel they have survived something.  However, that is not me.

I am Jen...just Jen. I had breast cancer, it's gone and that was that.  Now, if you want to label me as a survivor of anything, it's not that....the Foreign Service lifestyle?  Maybe...but not breast cancer.  

That's all....

 

Curiousity...

The LG is so insanely curious lately.  He has questions about everything from anatomy to geography and then we end up discussing how many former presidents are still alive and isn't it funny there was a president named Garfield?  He will decide he is from Africa, then ask where it is and a new geography lesson begins.

Two nights ago, he surprised me with the deepest question of them all.  We've been talking a lot about death lately.  Well, not me, he has been.  He is fascinated with the topic, I think because we discuss Grandma Kirk (my mother so much) and quite obviously, she died well before he was born.  He asks repeatedly how she died, what it was that hurt her and has it stuck in his mind she is buried in Chincoteague (we headed there right after we stopped at the cemetary).  He trips over the words pulmonary embolus and then I find myself explaining how blood clotting can be a very good thing ...or a very bad thing, depending on where it happens.  On the skin...a good thing...inside a leg or lung?  Not so much...

If you are curious, it does not upset me.  It would upset me more if he was afraid to ask me or if he thought it would worry me.  Instead he questions me without fear, and that is something I know my mother would love.  She was always very open and honest with me, and it was always so comforting to know I could ask anything without fear of reprisal.

Oh, but the deep question:  he wanted to know if anything ever happened to him, would I get another little boy to replace him?

I squeezed him tight, told him no (because how could I?) and wondered where this could have possibly come from.  Then I realized it didn't matter...because he is so curious now and even though the topic was not especially cheerful, I felt so glad that he felt he could ask me.  He was not afraid or upset, merely curious.

I only wish Peter was here for some of it.  We tend to have these conversations at night, snuggling after we read stories.  You can't duplicate that quiet tenderness during a Skype conversation, especially while you are also trying to get the dog to dance or the cat to sit (even more amusing) for someone who is watching 7,000 miles away. 

Hopefully, he has a few questions saved up for Peter...because he is just growing up so quickly.

 

7 weeks have passed

since Peter went back and to say the time is flying is not an adequate description.  It's already October and with a very few exceptions, our days are almost too busy.  Between school, volunteer commitments, the dog and my exercise schedule (with required recovery time), I'm lucky to find time to sleep.  However, thanks to the creative and strenuous workouts with my new trainer, I'm finding myself going to bed early by virtue of utter exhaustion.  

While I'm not going to say each day is super easy, we seem to be falling into a pattern.  The kids still fight over who takes the recycling to the curb, Lego bricks are still as fascinating as they were two months ago and the dog is adding a certain calm to our household.  The Little Guy is uttering things I swear he shouldn't as a 4 year old, but then again, he is 10 in his mind, so it all works out.

Coincidentally enough, as I was thinking over the past few weeks how things have eased up and the UT (Unaccompanied Tour) is stressful, but not, I received some interesting advice.  I read it, choked on most of it, forwarded to Peter, obtained his opinion and then realized I was not alone in thinking that quite a bit of it was, well, not pertaining to our situation.  Is that a nice way to put it?

Actually, I'm not even sure I want to be nice at this point.  My kids get medals and a free trip to see their father somewhere.  Peter gets awards and pats on the back because he is sacrificing a year for his country and living and working in a danger zone.  I get piles of laundry and dishes that make my head spin.  I spend a fortune on babysitters (whether bribing my own daughter or someone else's), have to keep 4 schedules straight in my head and there darn well just better not be any emergencies, because my main emergency contact is 7,000 miles away.  

Imagine my surprise then, when I read this advice and find tidbits that, if employed by me, would likely find me on Divorce Court.  I'll just tackle a couple of items, in the hopes that others reading the same information are not feeling that one has to follow that information or they are doomed to the worst UT ever.

1.  Apparently, we are supposed to understand that what is happening overseas with our spouse takes precedence over issues here.  We are supposed to understand that their job and needs trump ours and they are dealing with much more important issues.  Not only that, we need to remember that complaining about issues here is a waste of time and will not help with our communication.

Seriously?  Now, if I followed that advice, I would have 400% more work instead of 300%.  Peter may not be here physically, but I'll be damned (yes, you heard me), if he is going to quit being involved in our lives for a year just because he is over there.  He has a phone and knows how to use it.  He has time during our day (when I don't) to follow up on insurance issues, cable problems (he even ordered us a new box from Verizon) and appointments that will happen during his R&R.  Do you know what this does?  It keeps him involved!  

What may *seem* like a petty issue, if not discussed, could grow and fester into something huge.  So, yes, sometimes I complain and rant to him...and in turn, he might do the same.  Just like if he was home, so it feels normal, sane and neither one of us bottles up stuff that we need to just get out in the open.  And, I don't hesitate to let him resolve problems (that he can), since we know I am doing the bulk of the work.

In short, TALK to each other.  Ignoring a problem, no matter how small, will not make it go away.

Now this next item was not in the same exact milieu, but in related information and along the same lines.

2.  Rather than teaching your children how to call your loved one at post, you are to instruct them that the phone number is for "emergencies only" and if they want "to call to complain, they should send an email instead."  I will get Nick RIGHT ON that email business.  While he may be an expert at tweeting Lego You Tube police videos to my Facebook status, he has not quite mastered emails that don't look like this:  "yoiuiud....sdoiufdsoiu iouohklkjl catoiupoi."  So, I have to say, I would file that under useless to downright silly.

Instead, let's look at the reality that many times (not always, but sometimes) kids have to be reminded to call...or they don't feel like talking when you may have said parent on the line.  Other parent (the one at the overseas post) knows that each child is different and may not want to chat when others are listening and/or simply may want to talk when they want to talk (generally how that whole phone thing goes, you know?).  So, rather than assuming the child will abuse the phone privleges, since we are asking them to, oh, give up a year with said parent, assume that they can handle calling and chatting on their own?  And, maybe if dad or mom says it's not a good time, gasp, the parent can call back when it IS a good time.  I mean, kids aren't stupid and they don't always call to complain (shocking, but if you have kids, you are aware of this fact).

We actually have a rule in the house (and Peter, yes, really, Peter came up with this) that the kids can call whenever they need to do so.  Yes, really.  If Nicholas has a nightmare and wakes up at 3 a.m. and suddenly wants to talk to Pete, I call him.  The reality?  The kids Skype maybe twice a month and talk on the phone 3x a week (and that's probably a stretch)?  The hours don't always line up in their favor and when Pete calls, they don't always want to talk.   We don't force it (If you have ever seen a forced Skype conversation, you know it's not pretty) and then they are far more eager to talk when they are ready (and tend to have a lot more to say).  

The reality is that a UT can be a really crappy time.  (And that's not to say we are having a bad time right now, just that given the circumstances, a UT could be a very tough time for a family.)  While it can be hard on the spouse at the overseas post, the spouse at home generally has way more to think (and stress) about.  Let's not make it worse by offering advice that's rooted in some sort of twisted 1950's Mad Men/Stepford Wives scenario.  Give those of us on the Homefront credit where credit is due.  Trust me, we've earned it!

 

{this moment}: Blast from the Past

{this moment} - A Friday ritual (a day late, sorry). One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

I didn't find *the* photo from this week, so thought I would search the archives.  This photo was taken 4 years ago on October 4, just a few months after we moved to San Ramon.  Wow...  Idea courtesy of Soulemama.

I walked into my new favorite coffee shop today,

and was hit with the realization that it is once again that time of year.  No, not Halloween or Christmas, or even just lovely fall decor...I was lightly slapped with the pink.

If you remember from this post, I am not a fan of a certain large corporation (let's face it, that is what they are) that claims they are racing towards a cure (while suing small non-profits that dare to use the word "cure" in a campaign and giving their top dogs rather inflated salaries).  It dismayed me to be diagnosed with bc during the month of "Pinktober" (now apparently an official Hard Rock Cafe term - triple vomit) and have to deal with not only the pink crap being thrown at me right and left, but the stuff being sold everywhere in stores in the name of a cure.

The only problem?  The stuff being sold is junk...t-shirts, pens, mugs, "Pink Ribbon pasta," pots, pans, Kitchen-aid mixers (really?!, okay, the mixer isn't junk, but the color...) and all are huge reminders to those of us who have dealt with this issue, that we are nothing more than pawns in a giant movement and poster children for a few CEOs.

When I was diagnosed, I was in the opposite camp already.  I was predisposed to loathing the "K Kulture" and figured I would deal with the whole thing and go back to my normal life.  This is great, except that then the Pink Ribbon business started to ramp up even more.  More junk appeared in stores, I received more requests for money (cause we weren't paying enough for treatment and other related issues?!) and I realize that many were blinded by the whole awareness thing.

Here's the deal:  if you have even thought about this issue, you are aware.  The whole awareness thing, excuse my French, is a load of crap.  Awareness did nothing for me.  I still lost part of myself and spent 3 painful surgeries getting it back.  It took me 8 months to go from feeling like I didn't want to get out of bed to realizing that my life was not over.  You know what have really helped?  Not more awareness of bc, but more awareness that the best thing you can do for yourself is to get back to what makes you tick, what makes you happy, what makes you...YOU.  For me, that is not bc...not now, and it never will be.

I think if I had to guess, there would be many out there who feel the same way.  I am fairly sure if I had to deal with any other type of cancer, I would not have had to feel like I was supposed to be part of a new and sexy (vomit...it's hardly sexy, trust me), cause.  There  wouldn't have t-shirts with insulting sayings bandied about everywhere (own a Pink Ribbon t-shirt with any slogan and you want to support me? Turn it into a dustrag!), items made from cancer-causing ingredients and you know who (the leader of the K culture) standing up saying how much good her corporation is doing (wow, last year they spent a whopping 15% on research awards and grants according to Reuters...and how much was on pink porta-potties and t-shirts?).

Now, I must admit today I was not nearly offended as I could have been.  Instead of being assaulted by the Pink (like in last week's trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond), I was only lightly slapped.  Caribou coffee did have a few items, but not shockingly pink and the display was dedicated to employees who have dealt with the issue.  Even better?  Last week, Caribou announced they were splitting with the K Kulture and will be donating to CancerCare instead.  Go, Caribou, and many thanks to Sarah Novak for introducing me to the fabulousness that is the 'Boo!

So, this?

 

Would you ever see a man wearing shorts that say, "These are fake, the real ones tried to kill me?" I didn't think so.

A perfect dustrag.

 

This? 

No!

 

 

Even worse....

And, my "favorite" the pink ribbon pasta with God knows what in it....

So, in light of all of this, what should you do if you really feel you need to do something?  Well, put the money back in your wallet unless you feel like donating to an organization that truly cares (like CancerCare). Do what my friends did for me and just help take care of someone dealing with bc, whether by cooking dinner, taking them out for coffee or just calling them on the phone and not discussing the pink elephant in the room.  

Even better?  Get out, enjoy the month and the changing of the seasons.  Enjoy October for what it should be...leaves, hot cider, pumpkin patches and warm sweaters... not the massive consumerism mess it has become, thanks to the Kulture. 

This just in...

Oh, NO, they didn't...

 

Someone tried to pink my pumpkin! It. Must. Stop!

 

Who doesn't go clubbing on her night off?

Well, health clubbing that is?  Yes, indeedy, tonight is my first night off in 6 weeks and I celebrated in style with a swim at my new gym.  I had just dropped off the kids at the Salty Dog 'stead and headed straight to the club for a bit of exercise and relaxing in the hot tub.

What will I do with myself now?  Other than the dog's tap-tap-tap of her toenails on the kitchen floor, it is overwhelmingly quiet.  I am beside myself with the possibilities...perhaps a movie, a glass of wine, and then early (yes, early!) to bed so that I can awaken to a leisurely breakfast and a day of amazing possibilities?

Not that I don't miss the kiddos, of course, but I know they are in good hands and having fun.  It only took Nick an hour to cover himself in scarves and entertain with lines from Copacabana, so I have no doubt all is well.  Now off to enjoy my evening...and imagine what I will do tomorrow with the whole day to myself.  Thanks, Salty Dogs!

 

{this moment}: Mr. Helper

{this moment} - A Friday ritual (a day late, sorry). One photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Idea courtesy of Soulemama.

The newbies are

keeping me hopping. And by newbies, I mean new companies that have come to my area (well, within a 10 or so minute radius of my house) and I am absolutely loving them.

For years, I had love/hate relationships with gyms. It seems I could find one that offered almost everything, but seemed too pricey or had everything, but was just a wee bit too far away.  You know, out of walking distance and just far enough in the car that made you not want to go every day?  Or there were parking issues (most recent gym), and the cost didn't seem commensurate with the offerings.

After my winter of discontent last year (not running due to surgery and/or weather), I realized I needed to get something going before the wintery weather hit.  While I have no intention of not spending plenty of time outside, I want a place to go where I won't have to worry about slipping on black ice if I can't run until 6 p.m. or not being able to see where I am going for the same reason.  I also knew I needed to break out of my exercise box.  My weight has settled around a certain number that is not a happy one and I am determined to change that.

Enter 24 Hour Fitness.  We joined their San Ramon location in Cali after trying and not loving a larger, more expensive gym.  24 Hour Fitness was technically within walking distance and at a price that was reasonable for both of us to join.  A pool, outdoor hot tub (open all year...it's Cali, after all), kids play area and plenty of workout space.  I loved this gym and was extremely sad when we moved back here and I was back to the old choices of either the super expensive place several miles away or the tiny gym with the lousy parking.  Tiny wasn't bad, but no pool, the parking was incredibly difficult and it was easily packed during peak workout times.

No such issue at the 24 Hour Fitness in Falls Church, which took the place of the old Syms in the 7 Corners area.  I got a discount card at the Taste of Falls Church and headed over on opening day.  I took a tour, signed myself up  (month to month, so no worries when I have to cancel), and headed upstairs for my first workout.  May I say the club is gorgeous?  The pool is on the first floor, with a nearby hot tub, steam room and sauna, and has several windows (no trapped in the basement feeling).  The upstairs is devoted to cardio, training, stretching and  more (full-size gym). You can get an app for your iPhone, there are newbie discounts on personal training and it's a nice, bright spacious space for a work out.

Did I bite on the personal training?  Yep, you bet.  I knew I was stalling in my weight loss as I needed to mix things up a bit.  I've worked out twice now with my new (very fit) trainer and while he is kicking my rear, it's in a good way.  I was so sore yesterday and found muscles in places I didn't realize existed. I could barely get out of bed today (despite 6 applications of Biofreeze last night), but went over and worked through (and got rid of ) most of my back pain.  I've also started tracking what I eat again and can even scan in bar codes on foods to make calorie counting easier.  Love that Lose It app!  Should you be in the Falls Church area and have even the slightest need for a gym...I highly recommend.

A nice coincidence?  As I am trying to work on my health from a physical perspective, the new Mom's in Merrifield opened at long last.  It's in the Mosaic District and conveniently located next to a Red Apron and Mediterrafish (a local, organic butcher & a new fish store).  Mom's is a grocery store after my own heart:  compact, eco-friendly, the brands I like (at excellent prices) and a wide variety of produce and local, fresh items.  Sort of like the farmers market, but with longer hours and a bit more stuff.  We are also planning on working with them on school events (for Kelsey's school) and they are as excited about that as we are!

Now there is also a new theatre, numerous restaurants, a gym, a new Target and several independent retailers that look interesting.  Normally I am not one into growth like this, but given the nature of the companies coming in...I'm glad to support local companies and save money. Now I just need to work on meal planning, so I can space out my trips to MOM's a bit more....

 

 

 

Oh, dear

I had planned for this post to be far more well-thought out.  After all, I hate to shortchange this person, especially on her birthday.

Yep, today is Mom's birthday.  She would have been 68 (good grief!), though I doubt her friends would believe she was older than 58.  She had that amazing ability to seem so much younger than she was.  I remember how stunned her friends were at her funeral when they learned her true age.  She never lied, but I guess few people asked and nearly everyone assumed she was barely the other side of 50.

From our whirlwind trip to England and France, December 2003.

I realized recently, especially in light of all of the recent political upheaval, how grateful I am for a gift she gave me.  Yes, it's her birthday, but since I can't give a tangible gift, I thought I would offer thanks instead for the gift of an open mind.

I can't say exactly why it happened.  I don't know every experience of her life, but have a few ideas. Whether or not they are truly the reason she wanted me to form my own beliefs is irrelevant.  The fact of the matter is that she never, ever forced me to believe anything and for that I thank her.

Politics, religion, whether or not to breastfeed?  It was, "This is what I believe and why.  I do not expect you to believe the same.  You are your own person and should have your own beliefs."

No muss, no fuss, no thoughts of disowning me if our beliefs did not share the same path.  Now that I have three children of my own, I am so grateful to have had her faith and love, no matter what I chose for myself.  And, of course, my gift to my children will be the same. 

Thanks, Mom.  I love you, I miss you and Happy Birthday, wherever you are.