I'll take mine... to go, please!

Yup, I'm still here!

2012-01-22T23:27:00.001-05:00

I know, you thought I was living it up on the beaches of, oh, I don't know, California or Florida, but, I'm not. And I'm not gone from bloggy-land forever.

Here's all the "excitement" you missed. You missed me, right? Shh, don't answer that.

We are still in snowy-snow land.
I had a bit of a tough time approaching the big 4-0.
I turned 40 and, guess what? Everything didn't implode.
Two of my kids are WAAAYYY into gymnastics, between them we are at the gym every damn day.
Gymnastics is not cheap.
Middle school has been great for my oldest kid. He auditioned for and made the jazz band.
My husband is a Cubmaster. That is not a position held at the local zoo. It involves dealing with excited, incredibly energetic kids and sometimes unreasonable psychotic parents. Fun.
Being the Cubmaster takes a lot of time. Cubmaster's wife gets no respect.
My husband is still on the register for the PD cone, but too low to get called without a language.
Learning a language is not cheap and takes a lot of time. So we aren't doing that route now.
He takes the OA again in about a month. Come on big score.
Nobody knows about OA attempt #3. (Except you.) Not his family, not mine. Not our kids. (Feel special??)

That should get things started for now. I've got to get in the habit again. Get the pixels flowing.

Closing shop.

2011-10-07T13:34:00.001-04:00

So I wanted to say farewell, at least for now.

The time has come for me to stop blogging.

Thanks so much for reading my ramblings.

Changes to State.gov

2011-09-26T12:29:00.016-04:00

It seems they've changed up the website which describes the job of Foreign Service Officer.
My husband and I were just glancing at the site and he remarked, "Hey look at this. The description has changed from when I first applied 2 years ago."
This from State.gov:
Who We Look For

A career with the Foreign Service may appear glamorous: worldwide travel, government-paid housing, generous pay and benefits. In some instances, though, working as a Foreign Service Officer can be very challenging and sometimes dangerous. During this career you can expect to be assigned to hardship posts. These posts can be in remote locations, without many U.S.- style amenities; there can be sporadic power outages, unreliable internet service etc. Health and sanitation standards can be below U.S. standards. Some assignments are "unaccompanied," which means family members may not travel to the post with you.

That’s why it takes a special type of person to represent America abroad, to advance diplomatic initiatives to the benefit of both the U.S. and the host country. Serving as a U.S. diplomat requires fortitude, flexibility, the ability to adapt to changing situations, and cultures other than your own.

When hiring Foreign Service Officers, we look for motivated individuals with sound judgment and leadership abilities who can retain their composure in times of great stress — or even dire situations, like a military coup or a major environmental disaster.
Some of these positions are in danger or war zones and a good number involve sending officers without their families, who usually remain in the U.S. for the duration of the particular assignment.

Hardship posts are those where living conditions are considered more difficult than in the United States. Climate, isolation, civil unrest, quality of local health care, crime rate, pollution levels, and availability of spousal employment opportunities are some of the factors considered in determining which locations as designated as hardship posts.

We started laughing. A "special type of person." They want to make it clear. Special alrighty. No glamour. This is government work and your pay will be threatened to be cut weekly.

Then there was this beautiful description from Medical:

The Office of Medical Services of the Department of State determines a candidate's medical fitness and ability to serve overseas. Many Foreign Service posts are located in remote areas with extremely limited medical support; therefore, each candidate must meet rigorous medical standards in order to qualify for the required worldwide medical clearance….

….[the most isolated and restricted overseas] posts could feature extreme isolation in terms of limitations on reliable air service in and out of the country, unreliable Internet and telecommunications connections, and/or unreliable postal and delivery systems. Any of these limited services can have a severe adverse impact in terms of both bringing in required medical services and/or supplies, and/or permitting timely medical evacuations. Other infrastructure at such a post might also be inadequate. There might be a poor or negligible public health system, poor sanitation, unreliable electricity and a lack of potable water. There might also be infectious and communicable diseases, such as malaria, dengue fever, typhoid, tuberculosis, rabies, encephalitis and gastrointestinal diseases. There might be no health unit at the post and next to no local medical facilities. The emergency room, for example, might be completely inadequate, without ventilators, defibrillators, x-ray capabilities, etc. There often would be no blood bank or medical supplies or medications available locally. Because of political instability, security could be a concern.

Candidates should be aware that these posts are not few in number nor confined to a specific geographic region. Also, there are numerous other posts — in Asia and Europe for example — where conditions appear similar to that of the U.S. but which also feature some of these restrictive characteristics….

Awesome. Good thing I renewed by CPR/ First Aid and AED Training. I might be the village surgeon with my extensive 8 hour course training. Delivering babies, doing trachs with a bic pen.

So I added a bit of my own to State.gov, to keep it real:
"You will eat bugs. And not by accident. You may have your eyes poked with sticks. Your testicles will be punctured. Your children will learn to carve bows and arrows and hunt their own dinner. You will fight with tigers (ahem). You will make cheese from squirrels' milk. You will have your house bombed by acorns. You will have diarrhea and cauliflower ear. You may lead a revolution. You may be forced to learn Danish and Dutch and German simultaneously. Your dog will know the command "duck and cover!" You will bathe with large, hairy spiders. This is no tea party! You'll have to host tea parties. And don't think you're getting out of this without anti-depressants. Welcome to the club. Your pay is cut."

There should be a waiver at the bottom of the application process.

"Circle if you are a damn fool.

Yes. or No."

We circled "Yes." this morning and scheduled the OA. Damn fools.

The secret of our perseverence.

2011-09-21T13:34:00.002-04:00

So, you all, out there on the other sides of your computer screens, know that we have been trying like crazy-cakes to get into the FS. I like to think that it's not pathetic, that we have gusto, guts, stick-to-it-iveness, that we are Troopers. That we are fighting for what we want. Because it hasn't been easy, peaches and cream, lolli-pops and oh, whatever is sweet and lovely. I fought the urge to write "hand-grenades", for some reason… anywhooo.

I hope I don't appear to be showcasing our very lameness for the world. Should I not tell the world that this is the third attempt?

We are not desperate. Not forelorn. Because we are not begging.

Oh No!

Although I may have begged on this very blog, on occasion, over the past 2-3 years, for Ms. Walton to pick up her phone and call… (yeah, I know, it's actually an email, pick up her… mouse, keyboard?, c'mon, folks!) But we do have a life here, with happily adjusted kids (even the middle schooler) and our friends and family actually know nothing about this whole FS quest being ongoing.

We haven't told either of our families that we are still pursuing the FS. Why get them all freaked out, again?

In fact, a neighbor said, "Remember last year, that whole FS thing? Whew, glad that's over. Glad our kids will get to grow up together and graduate from high school together."
Um, yeah. Me too. I sure do. love. it. here. (head tic)

It looks like without a CNL or SCNL, there might be no way to get called anyway. How do people afford that? Really? Heading off to Turkey? China? Should my husband quit his job? I mean really. Not gonna happen. Maybe a trip to China Palace for MaPo Tofu… MmmMmm.

QEP -- pass.

2011-09-19T14:43:00.000-04:00

There, you read it.

My husband passed the QEP phase of the Foreign Service Officer selection process. So it's on to the Oral Assessments. (Again.) He has passed these steps twice before. Passed the OA twice before. Both times getting a 5.4 in PD. If you are reading this and have grrrrrreat study tips (hello, Tony the Tiger) pass em on. wandertrav@gmail.com Third time, we are hoping, is a charm.

In other news, I just had a five day migraine. Five! Days! Holy bozongas! I finally went to the doctor for a shot in the a** that took care of business. I was taking everything in the medicine cabinet but to no avail. My liver was saying, "What? More advil, and tylenol, and sudafed?! And immitrex." Feeling better now though. Tip top.

So, bring on the OA.

Bring. It. On.

See, it's easy for me to say, when I don't have to take it.

cnl or scnl?

2011-09-16T12:05:00.004-04:00

Vulcan.

You be the judge.

CA-MRSA

2011-08-13T12:44:00.004-04:00

Don't know that acronym? Well it's not related to the State Dept, that's why.

My dear little (big) boy started with a zit on his cheek. I thought, "Well, he is turning 11, I guess this starts happening now, pimples."

But it got bigger, and meaner and redder. And harder inside, after only a few days. I thought, "Oh man, he's got a bad one."

Then he said he had a spot on his index finger that hurt. And it got a pimple on it.

Fingers don't get zits.

Both developed quickly into boils that looked terrible, even after using warm compresses.

The doctor did a swab, put him on antibiotics and sent us home. The sore got way worse, like, horror show. The culture would take a few days to grow and each day, B got worse and worse. His finger was swollen and red and oozing. He got a third spot on his leg. He couldn't sleep, he was crying out in pain at night for three nights. We went to the doctor several times. We got tylenol with codeine for the pain. Finally the culture came back saying that he tested positive for MRSA. That's the kind of bacteria that doesn't respond to certain antibiotics. The CA means community acquired, as opposed to hospital acquired. The oral antibiotic was switched to one that would kick the crap out of this bacteria, a topical antibiotic was prescribed as well.

After a few days, B is finally doing better. whew.

He spent his 11th birthday at the doctor's office, changing bandages, oozing pus, (ewww) getting a shot, and yes, playing too many video games. Because I have mother's guilt. My poor kid.

What a way to spend a birthday.

But wait, we have some nice parting gifts back stage...

2011-07-28T00:35:00.005-04:00

Tick de la tock-tock.

Candidacy numero uno has expired. Today, or tomorrow. Zap, gone, 18 months on the register.

Are there really no consolation prizes?

Pots and pans?

A Lazy Boy chair?

A stylish hat?

A year of ice cream?

A ham?

Matches?

A smile?

Tamale, keeper of the register…anything? … speak to me… email, call me…

I know, I must

Chill out.

Candidacy Numero dos is still on the register and Numero tres is in the works.

Shit.

PNQs

2011-07-19T23:17:00.002-04:00

Submitted.

Hm, he's never done that before.

Except for twice.

Now the wait.

Woodstock

2011-07-05T23:19:00.002-04:00

We spent some time in Woodstock at my cousin's (second) house.

We played in the stream. Along with a mix of humanity in Woodstock. It's the local watering hole. Pictured here without kids all over it.

Woodstock is two hours north of New York City. It's beautiful, but an odd mix of hippies, wanna-be's and rich city folks looking for country houses and free-range eggs and organic produce.

We had fun visiting with my family. Even meeting some new people!

Mixed bag.

2011-06-30T11:50:00.003-04:00

The results of the FSOT came in.

My score was passing. And my husband failed!

Got ya!

Just kidding.

It was the other way around.

He passed, flying colors!!

I, um, did not. But yippee for me for trying! Right?

Right. It's all good.

I'm happy.

Round three for him though. gosh. We should have just moved to Turkey or China or whatever to learn a language.

Summer vacation… bites.

2011-06-23T11:57:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was the LAST DAY of school!!

Celebrate? Shall we? Screeeeech. Hold on.

What?

Today we kicked off summer Vac-ay discovering one of the three un-named lovelies has head lice.

LICE!

For the first time in my life, I am dealing with lice. (Go, on, scratch your head, you want to!)

Time to go rinse the lice shampoo off the head of one of these three kids. We all are getting treated, nit-combed and all bedding, stuffed animals, hats, everything, washed and dried at a million-degee temperature. I even jammed a huge stuffed tiger in there. Gotta love our large capacity front-loader.

On the first day of summer vacation.

Good joke, universe.

Safely home.

2011-06-22T21:56:00.001-04:00

Our next door neighbor is back.

Yellow ribbon

2011-06-20T12:47:00.002-04:00

We are awaiting our neighbor's return from overseas. He's been in Iraq with the Army for a year. His flight is supposed to get back in town in less than half an hour. His wife and two daughters have been keeping things together for a year.

We have grown closer, our two families, during this year. My two boys have even become friends with the girls next door. I know, "Girls," ew. I think my boys sympathize with how hard it must be for the girls to have their dad gone for a year.

It will be a relief when he is home, safe, and the ribbon is off the tree. To look over and see him barbecuing, in his backyard. To wave, casually. "Hey, how's it going?"

I just hope he is here to stay.

Kiddos galore.

2011-06-15T10:33:00.076-04:00

My kids are each two years apart. All with summer birthdays. (Family, um, "planning" of a teacher?) So, some years we say it's an "even" year, like this past year. The kids were ages 6, 8 and 10. But we are switching back into an "odd" year. Get ready for the weirdness. The ages will be 7, 9 and 11.

My son B. is leaving elementary school and this will be the last time the three kids will all be in the same school together. "Unless," as B. says, "we all go to the same college and I continue on for graduate school there."

Ok, I appreciate your foresight, but let's just finish fifth grade first. Middle school, here he comes!

Here are a few pictures of the three kiddos doing kiddo-things.

B. playing Ode to Joy on trombone.

S. demonstrating flipping skills. Newly acquired skills: back and front tuck, back layout.

S. playing Happy Birthday on violin.

S. showing off his new age, while B. towers over. Always older, Bro. Always.

C. attending a gymnastics meet. Aloha!

…and he took the test.

2011-06-10T21:28:00.063-04:00

So, my husband took the FSOT on Friday. Again. He's already passed it twice before, or was it three times? I lose track. Anyhooo.

He said it went well.

I'm not sure if he and I had any of the same questions or the same essay or anything. We, of course, strictly adhere to the NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement- keep your mouth shut agreement).

So we will wait 3-5 weeks to hear our results. I am not very confident in myself. I looked up some of my answers afterward and know I got some wrong. But I tried. Who's the president of the US? Colonel Sanders, right? No? Darn. Cap'n Crunch, then. It's him for sure. Oh, right, NDA. Sh, quiet.

My husband is trying for Public Diplomacy again, (GAH!!!) and I'm shooting for Management. He's currently on the PD register twice. But his score isn't high enough to get the call. I asked if he wanted to switch cones and he said, "If I'm putting this much time and effort into it, I want to be in the job that sounds like it really suits me best. And it's PD." Kudos to him for stick-to-it-ive-ness. He's starting the whole FS process over in hopes of upping his score. The PD register has something like 205 people on it, the first 23 have 5.7 or better. He could try to learn a language to raise his score, I suppose, but I'm not sure how that could happen while working full time. Plus we have these three kids who like to see him. They are ages 7, soon to be 9 and 11. Any ideas on how to learn a language while doing all that?

There is no easy answer.

Did it.

2011-06-08T23:56:00.038-04:00

Yeah, me again! I know, shocking!

Well, that English Expression was a doozy!! But the bio section was a breeze. I had lots of chances to bypass the fill-in-your-extensive-and-impressive-work-experience-or-actually-any-experience sections. Ha-ha, finished that section with time to spare. Job knowledge was solid. Essay was good, but they only grade it if the rest of the stuff is decent.

I was stress-free. But it was long. I was the only test-taker. Just me! Weird.

I topped off the test by losing my keys. Couldn't find them for a good 45 minutes. I thought I had locked them in my car. I eventually found them on the hook on the back of the bathroom door in the ladies room of the testing center.

Then it was off to pick up my kids from school. They have no clue about the test. They just wanted to bounce on the trampoline.

FSOT tomorrow? No way.

2011-06-07T11:59:00.099-04:00

Hi! Long time, eh?
You thought I'd been eaten by wolves, right?

Sliced to bits by three crazed squirrels?

Dragged off to the woods in the jaws of a cute but dangerous chipmunk?

Nope.

Just living life.

The kids are having fun. Playing and learning to be nice people. Boy scouts, Daisy scouts, soccer players, gymnasts, fencers, trombone players, violinists, neighborhood friends and funsters. The pool is open.

Here's some reality for you. I take the FSOT tomorrow. SHUT UP! I do too. I haven't studied at all. SHUT UP! I have not. I swear. Taking it blind. The best way to learn is by taking it, right?

My husband is taking it again on Friday. SHUT UP! We stopped counting how many times this is… He also hasn't studied. We are, the pair of us, flying by the seats of our pants.

But that's ok, we have a house, a yard, connections, here. We have a life and happy kids. We have squirrels and woodpeckers and Adirondack chairs. My husband's already on that damn register twice. If we both fail, we know we already have it good.

Choose a cone.

2011-03-04T14:21:00.008-05:00

My horoscope, which I do not read, by the way! It just so happens to be next to the comics in the paper, that's all, said:

Scorpio: You can't please everyone but you can follow through with your ideas and plans, bringing you the success and happiness you deserve.

Hmm. Verrrrry interesting. I read that one out loud to the husband before he left for work. Because if it suits me, I read them out loud, not that I read them, mind you. But if I don't like them, or they are dumb, I ignore them.

So I read it to him, and he said, "So, are you going to register for the FSOT today, or what?" He's very direct, that one. Very to the point.

And I said, "Well, I would need to choose a cone, wouldn't I? I mean I can't register without deciding on the cone that would fit me best, right? What cone do you think would be best for me?"

He looked at me, grabbed his briefcase and said, "Definitely chocolate. The chocolate waffle cone." Very funny. And true.

So, what career track do you think would most fit me? Management, Economic, Consular, Political or Public Dipolacy? Where's the Crazycakes Housewife Taximom Cone?

I am just imagining the What made you want to be an FSO question… "well, my husband actually wanted to be one, I really didn't at first, then I did, then I didn't, then, you see I have this blog, and some people suggested it, and it grew on me…"

Me? Take the test?

2011-03-01T12:48:00.003-05:00

Thanks a lot for the kind comments about the new 'do.

I'm enjoying it. And I think my husband is enjoying seeing (and accessing) my neck. Oh, gasp, shock!! tsk, tsk.

Quiet, y'all. We're married and it's snowed 17,000 inches this winter. We have to do something to keep us busy.

Ok. Moving on.

A few people have sent me messages that maybe I might consider taking the FSOT. I initially thought, "what? What?! WHAT??? No way! NO!! WAY!!! NO WAY!!" Then I thought, "I couldn't pass, could I? Or could I? Maybe I could? What would that mean? Could we both be in the FS? Because that would be way different than what we were envisioning before, me being an EFM."And I might be insane, but I am considering it.
Because this is the perfect time:

The FS pay is possibly getting cut.
The danger is increasing. Middle East, helllllo?
I have no real training. Architecture? Art? Teaching? Please don't put gluestick in the Nescafe.
My son is a semi-finalist to get a full scholarship into a swanky, expensive prep school.
I stink at Jeopardy and Trivial Pursuit games.
My husband is currently on the register twice and I freaked out about not being sure the lifestyle was a good idea. Hello, schizophrenia?

So, maybe I'm just crazycakes. But I'm thinking about it.

A haircut

2011-02-11T09:39:00.002-05:00

Ta-da!!

Time for a change. These pix were taken by 10-yr-old B. I was looking down at the dog, who wanted "in" on the shot. We cropped him out.

Hi, I'm "Contemplative Mom."

Hi, I'm "Dangerous Mom."

Slumped

2011-02-07T13:06:00.005-05:00

I'm in a Slump. And as Dr. Seuss says, "And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done."

I know, how could that be? I live the life of leisure. I get to sculpt clay with my good friends Dot, Millie, and Fran. They are sweet as apple freaking pie. All are retired art teachers collecting their pensions who talk about how happy they are to not be teaching art. How bad kids are nowadays. "And what do you do, honey?"

I do nothing.

Anyone want a pencil holder? Or a butter dish that looks eerily like a coffin?

The snow keeps coming. Drowning me in whiteness. I think we have had 131 inches this winter. That is almost 11 feet. That's what the paper says. They keep track of that sh*t. Like we win something. That is just wrong. The winner is stuck in the house, wishing for sunshine.

An extraordinary life

2011-01-19T12:28:00.007-05:00

I went to visit the career counselor again.

Maybe I should explain, the first time I went he asked me some questions like:

"Who was a mentor of yours as a child?"

"What are your favorite TV programs?"

"What are some of your early memories?"

"What is a motto you use in life?"

"What is your favorite movie?"

The questions seemed kind of random. I didn't really have a mentor. No coach, or teacher that really stood out. There was a neighbor who was a science teacher and she always brought home all kinds of hamsters and gerbils over school breaks. She would let me come over and help her feed them. She was a really nice lady. She had a daughter I played with sometimes too, the daughter had lots of toys and did ballet dance. I don't watch TV, other than occasionally Ask This Old House, Modern Family and The Amazing Race. I can't really remember many memories from my early childhood, so I talked about when my parents split up when I was 6, I talked my mom into letting me get a duckling. I was the only kid I knew that had a little duck following me up and down the street. I also had a turtle, a snake, some hermit crabs, and a dog. I was (am?) a tomboy. I told him I also had memories of going to my grandparents house in the summer and playing with all the cousins. I was an only child and it was pretty quiet at home. (Just my mom and me.) I loved the fun and noise of playing with the mass of cousins during the summer. I told him I don't have a "motto" but that I think back to who I used to be and think, "Wow, I used to be more adventurous." So a good motto would be, "Step outside your comfort zone." As far as movies, I don't have a favorite, I always forget the title of every movie I see. But I like the kind of movie where the main character perseveres and triumphs over adversity. I told him I hate the kind of artsy movies where you are left dangling at the end, not knowing how things work out. You invest two hours in getting to know the characters and the plot and then, bam. Nothing. I like to know how it ends.

He jotted things down. And I kept yapping away about how much I love working with my hands, being outside, being near the lakes, walking with my dog, being with my own family, I talked about my parents' divorce (33 years ago) and how I used to paint in notebooks and how my mom threw them all away one day while I wasn't home because she was cleaning and organizing. (I was maybe 8?). And he looked shocked. And then sad. And he asked, "How did that make you feel?" And I sat there... "I was pissed," I said.

After he finished asking me his questions, he straightened his notes.

I don't know if this is related or not, but the career counselor is Native American. He is actually the son of a Chief. He and I talked about my son learning about Native cultures in school and about proper pronunciation of a few tricky local names in question. We talked about Native art. I know some about the significance of the turtle and the respect of nature to native culture. So when we started talking, for some reason, there was a deep connection, as if he understood what I meant when I said I need to be outside, walking, seeing the trees, seeing the lakes. Anyway...

He told me I like to fix things and use my hands. I like to watch a show about fixing things and taking old things and making them work better. He told me that when my parents divorced, they broke up my family. But I decided I was going to make my own family. I had the duck, the dog, the turtle... I said, "Follow me, together, we can be a family." (Right about here, I needed to get myself a tissue, let me tell you.) He told me I wanted to do things differently with my children, I decided to choose to stay home with my children and give them two, stable parents. (Enter more tissues.) I like to be part of a community, included and encompassed, but I don't like to be pushed out in front, challenged, that is one of the things about teaching that I didn't like. Regarding my movie preferences, my not liking hanging endings, he said that the whole Foreign Service idea must be a real challenge for me, not having everything wrapped up. (um, yeah.) He repeated back to me all that I had told him-- that I enjoy making things, using clay, being outside, art, talking to artistic people, making connections with people. He told me I am good at meeting the goals others set for me, but that I need to think about what makes me happy and try to set goals for that. He told me it is time for me to let myself be happy. To give myself permission to soar. And it ended with, "Find your own path."

So I thought about different careers.

What will there be shortages in?

Could I be a nurse? They need nurses. No. Two words. Bed pans.

Could I be an Occupational Therapist? Yes. But I don't want to.

Could I be....

And on it went.

Graphic designer?

Architect?

Web Designer?

Ceramic artist?

Painter?

My second meeting with the career counselor involved me saying, "Okay, I've thought about it, and if I had oodles of money I would be making art and taking art classes and talking to other artists and earning an MFA." I'm not going to get another masters degree now, but I am doing ceramics and taking a class. And I'm trying to paint.

I'm not over the FS. It is still something we are thinking about. But at this point, if we pursue it further, my husband would be taking the FSOT again, not working while learning a critical needs language.

This life, my life, will have me, soaring, or not, no matter where we go, or don't go. Me going to another country isn't going to fix things. 'Cause guess what? I'd still be there, unsure of what I want in order to feel fulfilled. So, I have my (figurative and literal) lump of clay, and now I will figure out what to make of it.

Here, here I am.

2011-01-18T14:49:00.002-05:00

I have started and erased blog posts numerous times in the past few weeks.

I shall let this stand. It's a good start.

I am not gone.

Much to say.

The see-saw of life has been seeing and sawing, as usual.

Finding my path

2010-12-22T10:57:00.005-05:00

I want to still blog. But...

I've been trying to figure out if what I have to say is anything that you'll want to still read. Because you are FS people and I am not an "FS-person."

It's strange, but in a way, you blog-friends know me in a way that is much more personal and deep than the people here do. A lot of the people here don't even know that the whole FS thing was ever even a possibility. They don't know about my struggles with this. That is a huge secret that they didn't know about me and my life. For a year and half I kept it to myself. They just thought I was a flighty, moody, absentminded b*tch, but little did they know, there was a reason behind it! (That's what I tell my husband, anyway.) Ha!! See, you all know what I'm talkin' about.

I enjoy reading about you. I enjoy reading about your families. I enjoy your stories and adventures.

So I think I will continue to blog. I have enjoyed writing. I guess if it's interesting, it'll be read, if not, it won't. Right? Right.

My husband is settling in to his new job. The kids are doing their thing, school and sports and activities. B reads a ton, he is about to "cross over" from cub scouts to boy scouts, he fences and loves building things, S also loves to read, he's is a cub scout, a soccer player, a great gymnast (training 6 hours a week), and a violin player, C plays soccer and does gymnastics and has just started daisy scouts this year. She's all about the social aspect of any activity. She makes more friends than anyone in our family.

My own next personal struggle has been trying to figure out the direction to take my career/life now that I have some time to focus on that.

I have a BFA in ceramics and an MAT in Art Teaching, but I have decided that I don't really want to go back to teaching in a public school setting. Maybe I don't want to teach at all. So I went to visit a career counselor who told me I "try to please other people" and that I am "good at achieving goals that other people have set for me" but that I have to "find my own path." Um, no Sh*t, Sherlock!!

So, I am looking for my own path.

Path... path...

You out there?

Maybe I better walk the dog. And go look for the path. In the snow.

We've got snow, folks!!! And some very happy kids.

So, I'll keep writing. And I'll keep reading other blogs. I welcome comments. And please, if you've got ideas on where, exactly, I might find the path, let me know. I, apparently, do not have a GPS.

Here are the kids in our (gulp) 5 feet of snow that has fallen so far this year.

Happy Holidays!! From the I'll Take Mine Family

Gaining perspective. Feeling good.

2010-12-15T10:47:00.002-05:00

It's been 2 weeks since the OA.

It seems like ages ago.

I am good. No, really. I have had a weight lifted.

I no longer wake up panicking. I am not crying at random times. I don't resent him. I am not wondering what it would be like if he went off to who-knows-where-istan, and I stayed here. I am not thinking that I need a therapist in order to cope.

I appreciate all the kind wishes, and the helpful comments. I appreciate people being hopeful that there is a way for us to get in to the Foreign Service. Even though my husband has been on the register for almost a year and is now listed again on the register, it isn't going to happen. The thing is, 5.4 isn't going to do it for PD, not in this current swing of things. There are 205 people on the list now. So 5.4 would mean needing a language. And not just any language. Not German, which he knows. It would mean a new language with more points. And that can't really happen while working full time, being a cub scout leader, a soccer coach and an involved father. The only way to learn a critical needs language would be quitting his job. With three kiddos, that isn't an option. We have to eat.

So, unless my husband decides to register for the FSOT for the (shoot me in the face with a nerf longstrike gun) THIRD time, the FS is out.

And we are both okay with that. It has been a long two weeks. We have had lots of talks. And we have realized that this process (which has been going on 1.5 years) has taken a toll on our lives. On our happiness. We realized that we weren't 100% sure the FS would be a good thing for me, us, our kids, our family. We had reservations. But we were pushing them aside. We realized that we don't need the Foreign Service. It isn't our only option. We've got choices. Oh, boy, do we have choices... maybe too many.

And now, we are connecting again. We are living in the here and now. We are feeling control over our plans and our lives. Not everything is roses, but that's okay.

I'm not saying the FS is out of the question for our future, but for now it's in my rear view mirror. And I have to say, the smaller it gets in the mirror, the better I feel.

I do not want this.

2010-12-01T13:06:00.006-05:00

It has been an emotional few days.

I have been emotional. A 5.4 on the PD register currently has my husband at around number 90-something. His new 5.4 would put him at 130-something out of 199. He will be on the register another 18 months. If he worked on German some more and passed, he could get a 5.57, not necessarily good enough to get called. A critical needs language would bump his score .4, but he would be starting from 0. How much effort and time would that take? Spending time on a language would mean more hours spent studying, away from me, away from the kids. He would spend more time focusing on where he wants to be, other than here, with me, with us. As if here is not worth being happy about. As if life is not happening right now.

Which brings me to the meltdown I had in the hotel room in DC.

I was looking out the window, watching the cars go by, thinking about this 5.4. Thinking about what it means. Thinking of the bedtimes when the kids asked if Dada was at German class, or if Dada had a study group or if Dada had a Skype session. Thinking about the blogs and livelines messages I've read. The husbands doing unaccompanied tours, the mysterious medical illnesses, the houses being bugged and under surveillance, the insects and animals, the packing and unpacking, the stuff being lost and damaged, the bleaching of vegetables, the parasites in intestines, the missed weddings, funerals, graduations and grandparents, the feeling of longing for a home. And I started crying and I said, "I do not want this."

Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by the magnitude of the whole OA experience and am too quick to speak. Maybe?
Who knows. I cried a lot. Tears score: 6.3

We are back from DC. We are Home. Capital H, Home. The kids ran to the car and hugged us. The dog wagged and smiled his doggie smile. I don't know what's next. But I know we are in it together.

The jury is in. He...

2010-11-29T17:10:00.001-05:00

He passed!!

Which is very excellent. Yeah, good job. But, it's the same darn score as last time.

Which means...

What in the heck does that shizzle mean?

5.4 and 5.4
Crappola, me thinks.

Fry bread is yummy.

2010-11-29T13:33:00.001-05:00

My sister cancelled on lunch - too much work to do. Something about a report due and a deadline and everybody was gone for Thanksgiving... Boo! I guess I'm not so ridiculously fun after all for a 25 yr old to have lunch with. Ouch.

But guess who I ran in to while carrying my lunch tray filled with fry bread and wheat berry salad at the Museum of the American Indian? My husband, allowed out for lunch!! He had fry bread too.

What a nice surprise to see him.

He's testing right now, fingers drumming.

2010-11-29T10:10:00.002-05:00

While my husband is doing his best today, I'm going to have lunch with my sister. She lives here in DC and works in Dupont Circle. I don't get to see her enough. She's young, single and fun. Unlike me. Ha! Joking. I am so, SO single. I mean young, um, I mean fun. I am ridiculously fun.

Speaking of fun, I am also meeting up with a fellow blogger today. Our husbands are in the same OA today, both second candidacies. We all met last night. Hopefully there will be good news for all of us later today.

I'm in DC!!

2010-11-28T18:21:00.000-05:00

That's right. Big day is tomorrow. May the force be with us.

Two days...

2010-11-27T09:41:00.002-05:00

We just got back from driving to Ohio late last night. Turkey day with the in-laws was very nice. We drove on Wednesday, ate on Thursday (There were 22 of us at dinner!), drove on Friday. whew.

We head to DC tomorrow. Drive on Sunday, OA on Monday, Drive home on Tuesday. whew.

My husband is currently done with his old job. They loved him and gave him many cakes upon his departure. How did cake become a sign of appreciation in our culture? Anyway... he starts his new job on Wednesday, yeah, the day after getting home from the OA. whew.

He is excited and nervous about the OA. Me too. I am ready for this journey to have a finish line. I am ready to start making a plan for me. Because after a year and a half, I'll take mine... to go, or take in. Either way. As long as it's mine.

J- to the -O- to the -B

2010-11-09T16:01:00.004-05:00

Do you remember me saying that my husband was applying for another (better) job locally?

He was offered the job today. (Yee-haw!)

This is not my husband.
My husband is bald. And not so spring-chicken-y.

They want him to start on the same day he has his OA. Funny, he won't be able to make it that first day of work because he's got a "previous engagement."

So, given the choice between the new job and the FS, which would win?
FS, hands down.
Sorry new job.
The name plate on the door better be put on with sticky-tack.

My family LOVES the Sticky-tack.
It even holds my iPod touch on the dashboard of my car. (10 yr old's idea)
It looks like a gob of chewed gum. We're fancy like that.

Fears about my kids.

2010-11-08T11:27:00.004-05:00

Conversation (last week) between my husband and me (by cell phone) while I was on my way to the doctor's office to discuss my migraines:

Me: Hi, are you busy? Because NPR is on in the car and I'm freaking out a little bit.

Him: Ok, what's up?

Me: There are bombs. And... Yemen. And... Greece. And... planes with engines failing. We are safe here. Here. The kids are safe.

Him: It will be ok. I know, I worry about safety too. We will be ok.

Me: Are we crazy? Citizen of the world, what crap!! What are we doing? Well, I better go, I'm driving and talking illegally. That's not safe. Bye.

Him: Um, ok, bye.

Later, at the doctor's office, she asks me how everything (besides the headaches) is. And I laugh. Then I say, "There are bombs. And Yemen. And Greece. And planes with engines failing. And I don't know what it means to 'duck and cover.' And a lot of people in the world don't like Americans. And it's been over a year of being in limbo. And the kids like to climb trees and what if there are no trees..."

So, yeah, I'm sure I'm not the only one who's had these crazy fears, right? Can I wrap each child in bubble wrap?

Peace in the neighborhood.

2010-11-04T12:49:00.006-04:00

My neighborhood was very neighborhoody this Halloween. It warmed my heart.

We have lots of kids around. Usually we trick-or-treat with our immediate neighbors on our street. But this year, one of S's friends asked us to come over to his street and trick-or-treat with them. It was great. We saw lots of people we knew. The kids had fun. The adults had fun. It ended in an invitation to have chili and soup to warm up at another house. The kids all played. There were drinks. There was a large, friendly teddy bear-ish dog called a Golden-doodle or some nonsense... good times.

S:Grim Reaper, B:Obi Wan Kenobi, C:Cleopatra

In other neighborhood news: A "truce" has been called between my two boys and the two girls who live next door. They are the same exact ages, yet opposite sexes. Which means "enemy" by definition. I think the kids got tired of all the effort involved in being snarky with each other. My older son, B, called for a "truce" so that they could all build a teepee together in the woods. This seems to have stuck. My three kids and the neighbor's two girls have been having fun together for two weeks. This same neighbor's husband is in Iraq for a year. So I'm sure she's happy to have the kids occupied playing outside while she gets some things done.

My husband and I were out raking and leaf-blowing this past weekend -LOTS of trees in our neighborhood-LOTS!!- we decided to clear our neighbor's yard too, since she doesn't have her husband's help this year. She came out of the house and was practically in tears, she was so grateful. It felt good to have helped. Of course my arm was falling off the next day, but it was worth it!

So lots of neighborhood love going around at the same time as preparations are underway to get the heck out of here if when my husband does awesome on the OA later this month.

Also, he applied for another job locally. Got an interview and they just called him back for a second round. It's good to have options.

I turn 39 pretty soon. I know, shocking! I don't look a day over 26, right?! Right now, if you add up all our ages in our family, we are 100 years old. That came up doing math homework. Useless info thanks to Everyday Math.

And here's a plug for good thoughts/and/or prayers. A week or two after my son B came home from Jamaica, he pointed out he had a lump (an enlarged lymph node) in front of his left ear. It's called the preauricular node. It has not decreased in size in over a month. (It's 2.5 cm) We have been to our primary doc a few times and have been referred to an ENT. B also had a CBC to check his white blood count. (Don't know the result yet.) I'm sure he's fine, as he's acting normally. But if you have a spare moment to think a good thought for one crazy little/big boy, I'd appreciate it. Thanks.

Why do doctors have to say sh#t like, "Do I think it's lymphoma? (long pause) No. Should we be sure? (long pause) Yes."
Then I think: Should I b#tch-slap the doctor? (long pause) .... If you don't think it's lymphoma don't say it. geez. I've got enough worry in my brain.

My husband told me I look crazy. Ya' think?!

Follow-up edit: The blood test came back completely normal. But we still have to see the ENT on Tuesday.

The register is growing and I'm shrinking.

2010-10-25T14:39:00.001-04:00

The PD register has 189 people on it. That is a lot of people. My husband sits about midway down the register. He's going to the Oral Assessment again in a little over a month. We are hoping that we gets a really good score so that he doesn't have to resume German study again. If he gets a great score, he'll be ready to be called up for an A-100 class zippity-quick, because he already has his security and medical clearances. At least that is my understanding. But you never know. I mean you just never know.

I'm sick of wondering if this whole FS career will happen. I don't mean I'm tired of wondering if it will happen. (Although that is true too.) I mean I've lost 20 pounds during the past few months. Not that I mind. I've been walking the dog most days that it's not incredibly lousy and wet and cold out. I've been trying to lay off the Twix bars and Reese's. (Mmm, Reese's.) But 20 pounds seemed like a lot. I had to hunt around the basement for the pants I was sure I wouldn't fit into again. Dare I call them the skinny pants? We could call them the "Depressed-from-trying-to-get-in-the-FS-pants." If I could just do something to help the FS entrance process that would make me feel better, but I am powerless. I have just been trying to run the home and kid stuff while my husband has worked and studied and tried to learn languages the last 18 months. I have tried to carry on like it isn't happening, keep living my life, but it's hard to do. Because if he wasn't trying to get in to the FS, why would he be getting up at 5 to study? Or why would he have spent all that time and money learning German? Or driving to DC for weekend study groups? Huh? I don't think I'm lacking some easy-going gene. And it doesn't mean I am having second thoughts about this. I'm just saying: This is hard. Right?

I'm going to look for the Reese's now. Top shelf, above the tea... here I come...

Pink Pink Pink

2010-10-21T21:07:00.003-04:00

October is breast cancer awareness month.
In honor of Jen, an FS "cyberfriend" who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer only weeks ago, I am thinking pink.

This is what it looks like where I live:

However, this is what I am thinking about (pretty pink Jamaican flowers):

If you are a woman, you need to do a breast self-exam regularly. If you haven't done one before, start now. If you don't know what to look for, learn. It could save your life.

Thinking of you, Jen!

Group Exercise Practice

2010-10-21T11:18:00.003-04:00

There is a part of the Oral Assessment called the Group Exercise. In that section, each candidate has a project that they are advocating for. There is a set amount of money available and the candidate's job is to "sell" their project as the one that deserves the money.

My husband is a great reflective listener.* Like, sometimes it pisses me off, he's so reflective. "I hear you saying that you are angry that I am late for dinner again..." I'm kidding... sort of.

Actually, he's pretty tricky about de-escalating people's anger. He makes them feel listened to and then turns the tables and somehow gets them on his side. He's good at leading meetings. He's good at getting angry people to chill without blowing their tops. He's been trained in the stuff multiple times and he enjoys it.

So anyway, I was overhearing him working on skype doing a practice group exercise. And it struck me that I would have a much different way of handling the reflective listening.

This would be me: "I hear that you think your project should be funded and that it's the best but let me save you some time, here is a heavy three-ring binder, hit yourself in the head three times and try again."

Or, "Let me get this right, you think your project doesn't actually have any merit and you couldn't sell it if it did. I will take all the money. Thanks. Go, now, there's the door. Buh-bye."

Or, "I see that you can not stop yourself from talking even though nothing of substance is coming out of that mouth. Here, take this duct tape and zip, zip, zip. Done. Now we are all happier."

No? Not good? I won't be invited to write the next OA study guide?

*Ok, the truth is, I'm not sure if it's "reflective" or if it's "reflexive." And I'm not asking him, because he'll say, "I hear you saying that you think it's..." haha

Family Photo

2010-10-19T13:23:00.000-04:00

Look at all those smiling faces!! This picture is actually from before the 4th of July.

OA practice questions

2010-10-13T10:55:00.006-04:00

I have been quizzing my husband in preparation for the OA. Would you like to practice too?

Here's a hypothetical question:
You are a consular officer in a country known for its drug violence and corruption. You are on the visa line. In walks a man who subtly claims to have ties to the leading drug cartel. He leans in close and whispers that he wants a ham and swiss sandwich on wheat, with a dill pickle on the side, asap, or else. What do you do?
A.) Give him your own lunch, PB & J will have to do.
B.) Do a sashay and twist with jazz hands to distract him from his demands.
C.) Call security and cry like a baby in the corner.
D.) Document his request for the sandwich (in triplicate), notify your superiors, check the budget for ham money.

Ready for another?

You are a public diplomacy officer accompanying a humanitarian aid mission into the jungle. You are distributing food and medical supplies. You learn that the head of the mission is not really a human at all but a cyborg sent here from another planet to gather samples of primates from the jungle. The cyborg is just about to add a tamarind monkey to a burlap bag. You...
A.) Ask him to verify his mission, then document what he's doing (in triplicate), then call your superiors, asking if there is money in the budget for eradicating false-humanitarian-aid-turned-cyborg-primate-collectors.
B.) Distract the cyborg with a sashay and twist, adding in jazz hands if necessary, freeing all the primates.
C.) Call security, to save the day.
D.) Show him that you could be considered a primate too and jump in the bag. Maybe the planet this cyborg is from could be a cool R&R.

Ok, Obviously, the correct answer to both is the "sashay and twist" answer. My husband is gonna rock this test!!

Take this dog and this bird and call me in the morning.

2010-10-07T11:22:00.007-04:00

Yesterday the sun was shining for a few hours. (Can I get an, "Amen?!")

I walked the dog on one of my favorite routes. It's a long, nearly-abandoned service road that divides a golf course and a state-protected wildlife management area. The trees arch in from both sides of the road and form a "tunnel" in spots. It's pretty secluded, which sometimes freaks me out, but there's nothing to be nervous about. Except birds and chipmunks. The sun was shining through the yellow and red leaves in rays. It felt so good.

Today I walked too. But no sun today. Back to blah-grey. Although, near the end of the walk, I was passing a stream that feeds into a lake and I saw something move so I stopped to see what it was. It was a huge Great Blue Heron.

photo not my own.

It cocked it's head at me and walked sideways on it's spindly legs. My dog and I passed the heron slowly and the heron eyed us suspiciously but didn't fly away, I was amazed. The heron was tall, probably up to my chin. It was huge! I finished walking feeling lucky to see such an amazing thing this morning. I guess sometimes it's the little things.

Just when I think I need medication (or a tanning bed appt.) for Seasonal Affective Disorder, a walk with my dog and seeing a bird make me feel better. Go figure.

Now what shall I do for the next, um, let's count here, Oct, Nov, Dec, Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, in May it should start getting sunny again and the snow might be melting... Oh, Holy Herons, I'm going to have to employ that bird to stand there for me! Maybe I better research my options...

Might be needing more flash-mob videos to get me through this

2010-10-05T22:30:00.002-04:00

I'm going to be needing more videos of "happy."

Ok.

Little C is just finishing her Zithromax for bronchitis. Fever, cough. School missed. Lousy.

Little S was feeling terrible at school yesterday. The nurse called me. I picked him up at school at 10:45. He has a fever, stomachache, headache, now sore throat. Zithromax for an ear infection. School missed.

I have had a headache on the right side of my head for two days and my ear hurts, plus everybody seems REALLY loud. Would everybody just quiet down, please? I am on Levaquin. (Because I can't have penicillin, or, I'll swell up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and... die.) Lovely picture, eh? My ear drum is retracted. I said, "huh?" He said, "Sucked in, from all the pressure." Again, lovely picture. And I have a sinus infection.

Three on antibiotics. Two to go.

Also. Since being back in Upstate Freaking New York, the sun has shone for 27 seconds. It has been rainy and cold the remainder. I think I hate it here. Should I apply to work at the tourism center with all my cheery I *heart* NY sentiment?

Really, folks. It'll look better in... (what? the morning? the summer? after Nov. 29?)

Sorry to be a Debbie-downer. And a Wendy-whiner. And a Patty-pathetic.

Four minutes of happy

2010-10-01T15:36:00.003-04:00

I took my daughter C to the doctor again today. They think she has bronchitis. We are spending lots of time on the couch. This clip makes us happy. And it makes us want to dance. Join us...

I'm back in frigid Upstate New York.

2010-09-29T11:04:00.009-04:00

In Jamaica I would wake up and go for a walk on the beach, a swim in the sea, I'd eat breakfast on the veranda wearing shorts, sometimes sighing that it was too sunny. Too sunny?! The mangoes and papaya were cut up, the breadfruit and coconut arrayed. Pineapple, banana, sweetsop, saltfish and ackee. And now... home. Don't get me wrong, it's good to be home. But, it was pretty nice in Jamaica.

We stayed a night in Kingston, with the parents of my friend, R. Then we drove (via Mount Diablo) to this house on the North Coast. (Driving is CRRRRazy, I tell you, crazy! Hair-pin turns, left-side driving, avoiding goats, pot-holes, cliffs, being passed by trucks on blind curves, honking twice on blind turns then praying nothing hits you head-on.) Anyway, the villa is owned by my friend R's family also. It has 7 bedrooms and 12 bathrooms. It is surrounded by a wall and gates, has tennis courts, a pool, is on the sea, has night guards who stand out on the beach, and has 7 "helpers." My son B says they should be called "doers" rather than "helpers" because they were doing everything and we were doing nothing. True.

The villa.

B running down the beach.

We went to several waterfalls that flow into the sea.

C giving me some love.

Attempting to keep my swimsuit bottoms in place. Eek!

While staying at the villa we swam and ate and snorkeled and went to several waterfalls, including Laughing waters, the private beach where Dr. No, the James Bond film was shot. It was amazing. We enjoyed great weather, hot and sunny every single day. I didn't even wear the one long sleeve shirt I packed.

There were some contemplative moments though. Some "wow, this is an 'easy country' what would it be like if we were living in a 'hard' country for two years?" moments.

It was hot. It could have been hotter. But it was hot. I liked being able to jump in the sea. Living somewhere really hot, well, it would be hard.
We stayed in two really nice houses. But there is so much poverty. So many people living with so little. In huts, shacks, on the street.
Lots of stuff is just broken or doesn't work. No explanation, no expected date or time of repair.
I didn't have a single green vegetable, other than the same plain lettuce salad at every dinner. Plenty of fruit. Plenty of potatoes. But not a broccoli nor green bean in sight.
The helpers kept calling my friend "Miss R." And she was comfortable with that, and telling them what to do, because she grew up in Jamaica with helpers. I don't know how I'd do being the one in charge.
All the helpers were black. That made me uncomfortable. I'm no-doubt-about-it-white. R is mixed race. She said 85% of the country is black, wealthy black people have black helpers, race isn't such a big deal there as here. (Don't know if that's true.) But it made me uncomfortable.
The driving. R drove. Fearlessly. What if I had to drive?
The grocery store made me want to hold my nose. But I didn't.
R broke easily into her Jamaican way a speaking (patois?) that was so strong sometimes I couldn't understand what she and the Jamaicans were saying. And that is English. I think.
Bargaining. Dude. I know I was being taken for a ride. Nothing actually sold for the price marked. I was addressed as Boss Lady in the market. And I think we accidentally paid $700J for a bottle of soda. ($8 US). But it was a big bottle. And it was passion fruit. (Compensating.)
Crime and walls and gates and fences and security. How do you know who to trust?
Window screens. Ok, they don't have them. No glass either. Just open windows with louvers. (And metal bars, of course) The lizards inside are cute, the hermit crabs too, mosquitoes, not really.

After spending time at the beach house, we had to return to Kingston, to catch our flight out. I imagine a city is where we would be living if we were in the FS. Not somewhere lovely and beachy. Kingston is not really that nice a place. That would be something different for me, dirty city-living. People burning random things, etc.

We had a great time. The kids are tanned. C is home from school with a fever though. (I already took her to the Doc. because a little Google + fever + Jamaica +tropics + mosquitoes = worried mom. Seems like a virus though.

My husband scheduled his Oral Assessment date for his second candidacy. ...And the self torture continues...

Yah, Mon.

2010-09-20T22:17:00.001-04:00

Lesson #2 for the week.

2010-09-17T16:04:00.004-04:00

We bought a new fridge. We bought the durned thang two weeks ago and finally we have it in our house.

A fridge is heavy. A perfect thing for a family hoping to go into the Foreign Service, no? Maybe I'll start a collection. To add to the cannonball collection. Because we are really a portable family.

Anyway, Sears stinks.

After messing up the delivery, then leaving us with the wrong fridge as a "loaner" for a week, then delaying delivery a few days at a time, they finally got it here. The right fridge. With the doors opening on the correct side. With an ice maker. And they even found the missing door shelf after I ran after the truck as they drove down the street. Ah, Sears. With your 8-4 delivery window...

After getting the new fridge(s) I had to empty the previous fridge(s) and wipe out the new one(s). Then put all my food back in. Fun fun. In an effort to condense the food, I tossed some old condiments and such. Also, I had a HUGE wine bottle with not much wine left in it that I decided was too tall and took up more space than it deserved. I didn't want to waste the wine. But it was only 11:00 am, too early for even me. So I looked around for a container to pour the white wine into... hmm. Yes, perfect. This'll do. Much more room in the fridge now.

Let this be a lesson: (I'm all about lessons this week, eh?) Do not pour white wine into a water bottle labelled with your six-year-old daughter's name on it and put it in the fridge. Just trust me.

Unsend? Is there an unsend?

2010-09-16T09:53:00.008-04:00

Two days until Jamaica. Still nothing packed. Better get on that...

I finally got a response from B's teacher. Here is the gem:

Hello,

I spoke with Mr. S [the school social worker] yesterday afternoon about your concerns. B has adjusted well to fifth grade inside the classroom. Unfortunately, outside of the classroom is where troubles sometimes arise. Here are some things that we'd like to try. If B feels comfortable coming to tell me about what happened, then that should be the first plan of action. He can also speak with Mr. S at any time if he desires. As it is only the first full week of school, we both understand that he may not feel comfortable doing so. Please keep us aware of any situations that he makes you aware of at home. [Is this not what I'm doing?] We have a "Zero Tolerance" policy for bullying here. However, our hands are tied if he's not sure who said these things to him. [Tied? Our hands are tied? My hands are tied, lady! Sending him to you. Protect him.] Please encourage him to let the nearest adult know. No child should be feeling this way.

In early October, Mr. S will be coming into 4th and 5th grade classrooms to discuss ways kids are bullied, how to prevent it, what to do if you're a bystander of bullying, cyberbullying, etc. in hopes to make students more aware of what role they play in the process. Let me know if you have any further questions or concerns.

Thanks,

Fifth Grade Teacher

So, me being, well, me, I forwarded the email to my husband and added what I thought about it. I said that I thought her response was kind of

lame.

And he responded that he agreed it was kind of

lame.

And then, me being...
you guessed it.

Me...

I proceeded (horror of horrors!!)
to send the teacher a polite reply that included my husband's and my attached commentary about her

lameness.

....click...

"your message has been sent".....
wait... waitwaiwaitwait......what? ...Oh...Oh, no...
no... no noooooooo, NO!

YES.

Now. Who is bullying whom?

Oops.

Well. At least she'll know what I think about her now. She'll have to wait until the October talk about bullying to learn how she should proceed. I'm sorry. My hands are tied.

If we ever get into this Diplomacy thing, I think I'll need serious help in not offending pretty much everybody.

**On Edit: Ok, not to make you question my intelligence too much here, but... it looks like I may not have made the gi-normous blunder that I mentioned above. But I can't be sure. I know, doofus-material. But can I just say that gmail is *very* difficult to tell who has been sent what in a long string of emails, when you start branching off and sending some things to some people and they reply and then there are forwards and deletes and cuts and pastes and replies and adds and responses and ... Well.
I have learned my lesson. Which is, um...
The lesson is: Be very careful. And then click send.

Catching the Fairy.

2010-09-15T12:15:00.004-04:00

Jamaica in THREE days. Nothing packed yet. Haha. Better get on that one soon...

Nothing from B's teacher yet.

This was funny though. B lost a tooth at school yesterday. The nurse gave him a little tooth box thingy to put it in. At bedtime, totally without fanfare, he put it under his pillow.

This morning I went in his room to snuggle him and wake him up for school, but he was already awake and reading in bed. I said good morning and asked how he slept. (Totally forgetting to ask about the tooth.) He looked up from his book and asked me how police dust for fingerprints. I figured he was reading a mystery and explained what I knew of the process.

Then he turned with a sneaky smile and said, "I am going to dust this dollar coin and see if the fingerprints on it match yours or Dad's and prove that there is no tooth fairy once and for all!"

I turned to the coin and smiled and said, "Oh, wow! The tooth fairy came last night, look at that! That's a shiny coin." (As I picked up the coin, turned it over, and admired it.)

He said, "Stop, stop!! You're tampering with the evidence!!"

Ha-ha!! Curses! Foiled again.

Mean boys.

2010-09-14T10:35:00.006-04:00

My oldest "little boy" is getting picked on about what he wears to school. He's a smart (if I say so) 10 yr old. I love him to bits. Part of me wants to beat up anybody that ever says one mean thing about him. Part of me wants to buy him all new clothes to fit in so that the mean boys will leave him alone. Part of me wants to say, "Eff them! Wear pink and purple polka dot tap shoes if it makes you happy!" But it wouldn't make him happy. He's just wearing regular old Lands End, LL Bean, Gap, Old Navy, etc, and for footwear, Adidas. Nothing fancy, I tell you.

Sometimes people suck. How's that's for diplomacy?
And public school squashes a person's very soul. Or tries to. And, yes, maybe I am a wee bit dramatic. Or PMS-ing. But this is my child we are talking about.

He used a stuffed animal as a pillow camping.

Deep thoughts about whittling.

I sent this letter to B's teacher: (she's gonna grow to Looooove me.)

Dear Miss Fifth Grade Teacher,

B told me that on the first day of school he was asked by another boy if B was embarrassed to be wearing the shirt he was wearing (Star Wars-esque). When B said no, the boy told him the shirt was stupid and B looked dumb, and Star Wars is dumb. (Or something to that affect.) B said to my husband and myself, at dinner, "What's NOT to like about Star Wars, they have light sabers?" We all laughed.

Then the next day, B said that three kids made fun of his shirt that day. One kid asked if his parents made him wear it to school. When B said no, the boy said, "Really? You look dumb." (It is a shirt from B's grandparent's 50th anniversary party this summer.) He seemed hurt. He said that those two shirts were his favorite shirts, that's why he wore them to school for day #1 and #2. He said one of the kids was a 4th grader he doesn't even know who came up to him on the playground to insult him.

Then today somebody told B that his sneakers make him look like a nerd. And another kid said that B's shirt was stupid because it had a tiger on it. B was also told that being in Cub Scouts is stupid.

We have always tried to teach our children to be kind and caring, to be considerate and thoughtful. I will continue to teach B to try to reach out to others and look for the best in them. I hope that he continues to see the good in himself with all the negativity coming at him from his classmates. He doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. I'm really shocked by all these rude, shallow, mean comments.

Any thoughts?

Sincerely,
Angry mom

What gives?! I have heard about "mean girls", but I hoped boys were better to each other.

A school day and an OA.

2010-09-09T12:46:00.003-04:00

School started yesterday. (I may have danced in the kitchen during breakfast to the song "It's a New Day" by will.i.am. (Loved that song after the election!) However, today, I sang, "It's a school day..."

And speaking of dancing... my husband's cousin is a professional dancer who happened to be dancing at the White House on Sept. 7. (How cool is that!!??) The show was broadcast live at whitehouse.gov and here are my kids watching Michelle Obama introduce the show.

Total dance fans, all of them.

Okay. Sorry. Back to the school-thing. Fifth grade, third grade and first grade. Bright and early.

B, S and C waiting for the bus.

Smile, kiddos, we know you're happy!

The whole family. Awww.

That's a lotta kids.

We have a bunch of kids at our bus stop. B is the oldest. And tallest. He's starting to think he's too cool for pictures.

So, by the end of the day, the report was: The teachers were nice. There were smart boards. Lunch was loud. Friends were found. All seems to have started off perfectly fine. Of course you can never trust the teachers on day one. Teachers are all on their best behavior on day one. Even Darth Vader would act like a nice teacher on day one. But it was a good day.

Then the day got even better.

What? (you say)

Better than smart boards? (I didn't even know what those were. They are like big iPads on the wall.)

Yes, better.

Someone is going to the Oral Assessment again! Cheers. Here's hoping for a higher score. I'll drink a Jamaican Red Stripe to that!

Jamaican me happy

2010-09-07T10:50:00.002-04:00

School starts tomorrow. And to celebrate the new school year, we are taking our family to Jamaica!!!

Haha!! True.

Dear New Teachers,

Our children will be missing the second week of school because we are bad parents and are taking them to paradise. They are all smart kids and will not miss a thing, as we all know you will spend the first month reviewing last years' school work and going over the rules and routine. We will think of you as we choose to swim in either the sea or the pool at the 7 bedroom villa which has a staff of 5. Our friends who are from Jamaica will be there with us, along with their 3 kids, so we will get plenty of local tours and history. They even want to take us to the Bob Marley museum. (Who knows what they sell in that gift shop??) We will call it social studies.

Sincerely,

The Bad (but happy) Parents

Just another uninsured American family?

2010-09-01T20:05:00.003-04:00

As a family of five, we have times of getting sick, needing stitches, getting pneumonia and breaking bones. It just happens. Six year old C was playing "ball tag" (where you can be tagged "it" by being hit with a ball) with five older boys and caught an elbow to the eye. She's totally fine. But it reminds me that having healthcare is something we really need.

Our health insurance expired at the end of August.

Today is September. What a difference a day makes.

We are signed up, I think, for a new policy through my husband's employer. But we have no ID cards. Nothing. It's probably in the mail.

Yeah, right. I hope.

It amazes me. My husband and I both thought the FS would have happened by now. Now he's hoping to be invited to the OA for a second time for a chance to increase his score. Because it looks like the initial score of 5.4 isn't going to cut it. He's also pursuing another (non-FS) job.

Hopefully no more ball tag until we figure out this insurance situation though.

Waterfalls and roller coasters

2010-08-31T13:18:00.003-04:00

This past weekend we hiked to a waterfall near our house.

While there, I recognized the surgeon who did my knee surgery a few years ago. I'm sure he was happy to see me out hiking on my strong and healthy knee.

Happy kids, hiking. We also saw a couple of hang-gliders. So cool! We got to talk to the pilots and the kids want to try that out. Um, I think we'll hold off for a while.

We also went to an amusement park with water slides and roller coasters and other fun rides.

There were many opportunities to SCREAM!!! And laugh. There was some complaining. But we will focus on the laughing. And screaming. The above photo, that's my husband and 6 yr-old in the back whooping it up.

Eight more days until school starts. But who's counting? Ok. ME! I am totally counting.

I hope my daughter C gets rid of the shiner she got 4 days ago. She's a toughie, playing with all the boys and their friends. The rainbow of blues, blacks, yellows and greens on her eyelid are very pretty. But her new teacher doesn't need to see that side of her beauty just yet.

A year ago...

2010-08-27T17:05:00.000-04:00

A year ago (today) was my husband's last day as an editor at the newspaper where he worked. Or as my dear, late, grandfather used to call it, "the paragraph factory."

Our year-long health insurance ends and we've been living without dental insurance for the year already. We just floss the teeth we want to keep.

No, actually, we can now get medical and dental ins. through my husband's current employer. Because losing our insurance counts as a "qualifying event."

I am trying to be positive. But a list of things that bug me keeps gathering in my head. It starts like this:

Things that are STUPID:

1. Insurance companies

2. Explanation of benefits sheets - EOB

3. Dogs that eat toilet paper rolls

4. Mosquitos

5. Cable companies/Internet service providers/Phone company customer service

6. The stupid register (it gets a double stupid)

7. The bikes hanging from the ceiling in my garage that I hit my head on

8. Migraines

Um, that'll do for now.

Things that are SMART:

1. My husband and kids (Awww.)

2. Fresh raspberry pie.

3. Walks in the woods.

4. Monarch butterfly caterpillars and milkweed

5. Label-makers

6. Coffee

7. Needlenose pliers

8. Dental floss.

I'm stretching. Time to go.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-08-25T16:58:00.004-04:00

Infection in the webbing between his toes. Vet says soak 10 minutes 2x/ day for a week. I'd look away from the camera too. Poor guy.

The dingo ate my baby, and other birthday fun.

2010-08-23T22:55:00.003-04:00

The final birthday party is complete.

phew.

We had a backyard camping sleep-over with 5 friends of 10-yr-old son B coming over to whoop it up. This was our first sleep-over. I mean with more than one child sleeping over.

Here's how that went down. (It was good. Busy, but good.)

4:00 pm All five boys arrive with sleeping bags and pillows by 4:00. Parents slow down enough to open the car door and kick kids out, then speed off laughing and waving. I think I hear the word, "Sucker," spoken.

4:45 My husband gets home from work. Yes, up until then, it is me and my three kids plus five extra 10 year old boys.

5:00 We all get swimsuits on and head to the pool.

5:20 After swimming a few minutes, thunder is heard and all swimmers are ordered out of the pool. Darn.

6:00 Water gun fights in our yard. Setting up tents. Archery. Tire swinging. Basketball. Tag. Then we have pizza.

7:00 More tag. Cake and ice cream. Presents.

8:00 Marshmallow roasting, campfire. More tag (in the dark, with flashlights and lanterns.)

9:00 Into the tent to play Uno and cards. Raining starts.

10:30 Me inside with the two younger kids. My husband outside in a separate tent near the sleep-over kids. Just in case. Raining continues.

12:30 (in the morning) My son (so kind) tells one of the kids that there are coyotes in our woods and that coyotes have been known to eat babies. (Nice.) The other kid starts crying. There are many mosquitoes in the tent. There is a puddle in the tent. All kids drag their sleeping bags inside and sleep on the floor in B's room. Nervous coyote boy backs himself under the bed to sleep. Aww.

7:30 am Pancakes and bacon!!

8:30 Kids playing Wii.

9:00 All parents show up and ask how it went.

"Great," I reply, "they were awesome."

And they were. But I sure am glad birthday season is over.

And now we keep joking about coyotes, because we are terrible.

"Honey, is that a coyote in the backyard eating 17 babies?"

"No, mom, the coyotes are all at the maternity ward."

S'all good.

2010-08-17T20:55:00.013-04:00

Yeah.

We are in this for the long haul.

So, Foreign Service, you might put us on lists. You might make us wait. But WE will decide if we are done with you. And so far, you can stay.

Because we are good people. Maybe we didn't go to Ivy League schools and maybe we don't speak many languages (I'm a 3/3 in Pig Latin though and a 4/4 in Crabby Wife), but we are good, kind, fair, hard-working, honest, ethical, intelligent people. You could trust us with your children or small animals. Maybe not your houseplants though. If the FS doesn't end up being the path we choose, we will be ok. Happy even. We will thrive. The FS will not be our undoing.

I want to thank the kind people who have reached out with encouraging words. You have been so nice. I appreciate it more than you can imagine.

So. It really is all good. I am very lucky.

Oesday isthay akemay ouyay antway otay ukepay?

Lost my wing-nuts.

2010-08-15T12:02:00.001-04:00

My husband has been gone all weekend again.

He forgot both cell phones.

My mother didn't feel like coming over to visit (help).

I grocery shopped, went to Toys r Us to redeem gift cards (the worst gift ever for parents of the birthday child!). Took the kids to Karate Kid (the new one - it's good!). I took the kids to a Native American festival (Hello, many animal hides), a Scottish Highland festival (Hello, many kilted knees of men eating haggis playing bagpipes), and Founders Day Fireworks at 9:45 at night (Hello, mosquitos). Can I get an Amen?!

I am going to do my best to be positive and happy and not say negative things when he gets home later.

We'll see if he thinks I've lost my wing-nuts. Or that I'm drunk or medicated.

I'll let you know how long that lasts.

I've bonked.

2010-08-13T11:50:00.002-04:00

I have been thinking about why I have been feeling resentment toward this process.

Here's the thing.

When we started Candidacy Numero Uno we were all, "La, la, la, exciting, ooh, we made it past the test, ooh, now past the essays, wowwie, now, past the OA! And look, based on the stats, a 5.4 will get us in. And fast."

But how quickly things change.

That 5.4 became doggie kibble because the economy went into the crapper and all those smartie-pants people who used to have better things to do thought they would apply, just like we did. And then they spoke Arabic and Mandarin and were veterans and zippity-quick, up the ladder they flew, and down the chute we sailed.

So, Candidacy Numero Dos. A little more grouchingly waiting for each step of the process. Our eyes are more wide open. And more aware that this career may not happen, despite all the time and effort. That sometimes timing and luck and the economy and just fate can be enough to make it happen. Plus hard work. But I don't want my husband to be the guy who takes the test ten times.

The thing that makes me resentful and tired is that I went into this thinking I was in for a sprint and when I was near the finish line, they moved it and told me, "Ha, ha, Sucka', this isn't a 5K, it's a marathon. Actually, we may decide it's an ultra-marathon, you know, where you run through the desert for 100 miles. But we'll let you know. Sometime."

I am a walker. I trained for the 5K and I am hitting the wall. I don't have my energy bars or gel or goo (look at me sounding all official, like I know what that crap is) or enough water. And, hello?, where is the bathroom?

German Test

2010-08-12T10:53:00.003-04:00

No.

damn.

97/183 on the PD register with a 5.4

Next step, looking for an invitation to the OA.

Birthday pie.

2010-08-12T09:32:00.002-04:00

My eldest son B turned 10 yesterday. So we are officially in an "even" year again. The kids are 6, 8 and 10. Last year they were all odd. Ha ha, yeah, they were!

The kid wanted a blueberry pie instead of a cake.

At 10:30 last night I heard puking.

I don't want to talk about it.

The. freaking. END!

Sorry, nothing on the language test yet. I'll let ya know. :-)

Yes, Complaining.

2010-08-10T10:32:00.003-04:00

My husband took the language test last Thursday. No, we haven't heard anything yet.

He went away Friday night with our oldest son for the weekend for a cub scout camping trip. They were gone two nights. I stayed home with our other two children. It's great that my husband and son got one-on-one father-son time. But it was tiring for me, right after wrapping up the big language push. One-on-one for him, means two-on-one for me.

This coming weekend my husband is doing the same thing with our younger son. And again, I am staying home with the other two children. The camping child will come home with stories of awards in marksmanship, b-bguns fired, archery, whittling, crafts, swimming, campfire stories, roasted marshmallows, friends made, nature hikes, meals shared in the dining hall under the watchful eye of freaky taxidermied deer. Fun, fun, fun.

I can't compete with that. Apparently, mom isn't fun. (Apparently she slips into writing about herself in third person sometimes.)

Last night, during bedtime hugs, my 8 yr old son told me he was bored this summer and ready to go back to school. While I think that's a load of you know what, I can't help it, I take that personally. These kids have been swimming, to the summer recreation program, playing with friends, gone to Missouri, gone to Grandma's, gone to Grandpa's and Step-grandma's, gone to chess camp/ video game design camp, gone to fencing camp, gone to gymnastics camp, we got a new basketball hoop, plus we have three birthdays, I mean come on!!!!!!

We recycled our cat.

2010-08-07T00:02:00.000-04:00

I was editing my blog's "about me" section to show that I've been married 11 years rather than 10 years and decided that I should also change the profile to show that our family no longer includes a dog and cat. Just a dog.

We recycled our cat. Recycled!? (you say) What can they make from recycled cat? A park bench?

Here's the thing. I went to the vet nearly three years ago looking for a kitten. They said, "Hey, we have this nice adult cat that needs a home. He is neutered, has all shots, is declawed, microchipped, blah, blah, used car salesman pitch." Marshall was cute. A grey cat with a white tuxedo, socks and a mustache.

The only thing is, he would bite when you pet him too much. But we thought he'd get used to us. Because he was only one year old and he had been living in a cage in the lobby of the vet's office.

So we loved that darn cat for three years. The kids only wanted love, or even "like", in return. They wanted to not be bitten by him. They knew Marshall would never sleep with them, never sit on their laps. In all the time we had him, Marshall never sat on my lap or my husband's lap either.

He started biting us even when we weren't petting him. He'd just walk up to us and bite...CHOMP...out of the blue. He would wait by the door to escape and then run for the woods. When we went after him (he was declawed after all) he would turn and hiss and bite. He drew blood on the kids. All of them. He bit the dog as the dog was sleeping. Poor dog.

He would bite the dog's ankle when the dog was eating. And Marshall started peeing on our carpet in the basement. No matter how clean the litter box was kept.

So, we knew that Marshall was not happy. And we weren't happy. I felt so terrible. And so guilty. I called the vet's office and explained what was going on. They said for whatever reason, Marshall was stressed. They said we could bring him back and they would try to find Marshall another home (with people who like biting cats, I guess.) So for a week, my husband and I started having conversations with the kids about what would happen and why.

I hoped that my husband would actually take Marshall to the vet's office, but he ended up being busy with work and (surprise!) German, so it fell to me. And it's summer, so the kids are home. So guess how that went? Me and three kids giving away the family pet. Not so good.

We gathered all Marshall's toys, food bowls, extra food, everything was going to be donated. We coaxed Marshall into his pet carrier. He was meowing and reaching his front legs out and trying to get out. My daughter was crying and saying that she didn't want him to go and that Marshall was telling us he wanted to stay. My two boys were getting all teary-eyed. I was starting to well-up. I called my husband and left him a voice mail at work telling him how lousy it is that he left this to me and that I hate making the kids feel this way. Sob sob.

So I load the three kids and the cat in the car. We are driving the 20 minutes to the vet's office and Marshall is howling, just meowing non-stop. I'm silently weaping, thinking about the emotional scars I'm searing into the kids. C is not very silently crying and telling me she doesn't want to get rid of Marshall. B is trying to console Marshall. S is looking out the window and wiping his cheek. I am wondering how I am going to manage when we get to the actual vet's office. Should the kids come in or stay in the car?

And then it happened. When I was at my wit's end, God gave me a gift. And the gift was pee and poop. I'm sorry, but it is true.

All of a sudden. Marshall was silent. And then there was a smell. And 10 year old B said, "Ewww. Oh, Marshall!! He just pooped! And peed!" Then all three kids went "Ewww!" And they laughed and grimmaced and rolled down their car windows. They rode the last four blocks to the vet's office with their heads out the car window, pretending to gasp for air. When we got to the office, I carried Marshall's pet carrier in, pee dripping. The kids carried all the gear and food. I told the kids to say good-bye and they did. "Bye, Marshall. Bye, Marshall. Bye, Marshall." No tears.

That darn cat, all we did was try to love him. For three years. And he bit us. He was not going to leave us as 'Marshall the Saint.' And I was not going to be 'Evil Mommy.'

Now, Marshall has found a home. We wish him all the best. Although the vet did say he was back in the office for some stitches after jumping through a glass coffee table at his new home. Oh, Marshall, you need to chill, brother.

8 minutes

2010-08-05T14:55:00.000-04:00

My husband was a wrestler in high school. He said that a wrestling match could easily be decided in 6 minutes. The quicker the match, the more dramatic the defeat (or the victory, depending on how you look at it).

So today, his German phone test took just 8 minutes. That should be plenty of time to determine he's a level 3, right?

He's not optimistic though. Eight minutes felt too quick. And when you compare it to the hours and hours and hours he studied, it seems even shorter.

We'll find out in a week or two how he did. If he passes, he'll be within range for an offer, but just barely. Either way, as of 9:08 this morning, the German study is over, at least for now. We're happy to have him back, and so is he.

Time to move on (we hope) to the next landmark in our journey of worry and waiting: the Oral Assessment. We should find out in September if his FSOT and essays were enough to get him an invite to another OA. He scored his 5.4 on Nov. 12, so we're hoping he'll get a chance to score higher this November.

Here's a happy photo to leave you with from our anniversary:

Crabby wife.

2010-08-04T23:20:00.001-04:00

The big kahuna german test is tomorrow at 9 a.m.

I already got my passing grade of 3 in the language of Crabby Wife. It is spoken world wide, but I believe my fluency has really blossomed these past few weeks.

I'll be vacating the premises tomorrow during test time.

I guess we have to wait a week to hear if it's thumbs up or down. The PD register is at 172. So put that in your leiderhosen and smoke it.

*I tapped this out on my iPod touch, sorry if it looks terrible.

Another month of summer vacay.

2010-08-03T10:32:00.004-04:00

Last night I said these words to my husband, "I am ready for everyone to go back to school."

He laughed. Then asked, "Even me?"

"Yes," I said. "You also. All humans. Out. Anything that speaks. But the dog can stay."

I just want silence. For a little while.

Summer.

bah. humbug.

Family Date

2010-07-31T23:39:00.004-04:00

Today is my 11th wedding anniversary. It was a full day.

I had an 8:00 a.m. haircut to start the day off. On a Saturday... so early. I ate some Cheerios and I left the house at 7:30, to the sound of my dear husband having a phone conversation in German with a study-mate. Blah blah blah, I haben zee hairen cutten, guten morgen. Haste la vista baby.

I grocery shopped on the way home.

I got home and all five of us (husband and three kids) went canoeing on a lake near our house. That was fun, but quite a workout. Kids are lazy canoe paddlers. They are like, paddle... sit...sit...sit...drag paddle, splash water, sit... look around, maybe think about leaning over and touching the water with their hands, paddle again with paddle turned so that it does nothing...
We had two canoes. My husband was in the stern of one and I was in the stern of the other. It was basically like the two of us canoeing solo in our own canoes. With sand bags. That lean unpredictably. And want snacks. But it was nice and sunny. And we saw birds.

We went home and had lunch outside on the deck.

Then we went to an art festival. And walked around with the kids.

After that we went to a nice (authentic) Italian restaurant. (Again, with the kids.) The big thrill for the kids was a bullet hole mark in the glass window. I said authentic Italian, right? It was great food. The kids were well-behaved. They put their napkins on their laps, and remarked about how many forks and glasses and plates they each had.

For our evening entertainment, we all went to see the movie Cats and Dogs in 3D. Complete with 3D glasses. That 3D stuff is pretty cool. I think the last 3D movie I saw was in the 80's. Technology has come a long way since then.

Last weekend, the kids spent two days at my mom's, so my husband and I celebrated our anniversary and had our date night then. Today, our actual anniversary, was one long "family date." It was probably more expensive than if we had just paid a babysitter. But it was also nice for the kids to be included. They were cute. They kept wishing us a happy anniversary.

Stupid German.

2010-07-30T10:10:00.006-04:00

So I hate the German language.

Sorry, Germany.

You might be nice. I've been near you. In fact, I've been all around you, ALL around you. It's funny, actually, when I look at the map and think about my travels, it's as if I was AVOIDING you, specifically. I visited your border countries. Beautiful, I tell you. Lovely.
I was even in Czechoslovakia "back in the olden days" when it was still Czechoslovakia.

Anyway.
German language is kicking the collective asses of my family. The big language phone test is next week. And my husband has been spending months getting up early and staying up late and driving to a tutor and paying good bucks to the fraus I haven't met. He has come a long way. He didn't really speak German before, now he does. But this process is time-sucking, soul-sucking. I really, REALLY hope he passes the test next week. If not for the point bump on the PD register (which is currently 168 people long!), for the personal achievement and satisfaction of having done it! Of having put in all this work and having made the grade. But if he doesn't pass, he still will have come a huge distance, on his own, and with hard work and determination. Worst case: he could take the test again in six months. (Reading of PhDs in German literature and high school German teachers and folks who lived in Germany for 7 years and their test-taking stories on the A-100 board doesn't help!)

The kids and I are ready for German to be done. We'd like to have that guy back. These next few days until the test will be tense.

Our 11th wedding anniversary is tomorrow.

It's been a tough year. At the risk of being a blame-shifter, I'd have to place a large percentage of the tension in our lives squarely at the feet of the Foreign Service admission process.

Germany, it's not your fault, I apologize for my hostility.

Stupid ~~German~~ Foreign Service.

So I hate ~~German~~ the Foreign Service admission process...

Edit: (Dear Board of Examiners, please do not hold my hatred for this process against my husband... mind erase, mind erase, bzzt...)

Fencing.

2010-07-28T23:58:00.005-04:00

My 8 and (nearly) 10 year old boys are taking fencing. Fencing?! How cool!?

He will mess. You. Up. He's 8.

They are doing a week-long fencing camp in the mornings. It is run by a very nice man from Bulgaria. My boys really like and respect him - and they dig his accent. This is the first time the boys have done this, and they LOVE IT!

8 yr old S. is ready for action.

And here it is.

They started out with the epee and have also used the sabre. I'm not sure if they will also use the foil or not. They are being taught all kinds of things about fencing.

Almost 10 yr old B (on the right) using the sabre.

It's awesome to see them lunge and jab. I don't know all the terms for what they are doing, but they do. And they shake hands at the end of each... match? bout? fight? round?

B fencing (right).

My chess player B likes the strategy involved. My gymnast and soccer player S likes the footwork and athleticism. And what boy doesn't like to swing a sword? I mean really? The clang of metal hitting metal is just cool. I'd enjoy it myself. Although I don't think I could resist saying, "Touche, Pussy Cat!" from the Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Here's S getting a little sabre schoolin'.

Energy star? Pshaw...Gold Star!!

2010-07-26T23:25:00.013-04:00

Somehow, my husband signed up to get an energy audit on our lightbulbs from NYSERDA, New York State Energy Research and Development Authority. NYSERDA’s aim is to help New York meet its energy goals: reducing energy consumption, promoting the use of renewable energy sources, and protecting the environment.
So, anyway, he signed up for someone to come into our home and count how many compact fluorescent light bulbs we have. You know, these things:

And NYSERDA was going to give us $100 for the trouble of opening our door and letting them in to count the bulbs. They really need that info, I guess. I was dubious. But said okay. Then I realized that I was the one who would have to be the lightbulb-counter-letter-inner-attender-to. Because my husband would be at work. No biggie. So, I'd earn my $100.

Boy, would I.

The scheduling lady on the phone said it would take "at most an hour" and it was fine that I had three kids around, I wouldn't need to do anything.

Even though she said that, the day Mr. Lightbulb-counter was coming I forced the kids to go to a 2 hour summer recreation program in a neighborhood park anyway, just in case.

When I got home, a really old, white, rusty Saab was in my driveway with the owner just putting "the club" on the steering wheel.

You know, this thing:

Not for nuttin' (as they used to say in Providence, RI), but, my neighborhood is pretty safe. Nobody gets their cars stolen. Or broken into. Especially at 9:00 am. And if someone wanted to steal a car, I bet they'd go for the neighbor's BMW SUV rather than the rusted out SAAB with Vermont plates. But, better safe, I suppose, than sorry.

So the guy was about 55-60 yrs old, grey hair in a white man's overgrown afro. Similar to this:

He was wearing baggy cammo pants with black combat boots, a pair of glasses on his face and another on a leash around his neck, also with a man-purse (a murse?) around his shoulder. He could well have slept in his car, he smelled and looked, that fresh. He came in and pointed up at the light fixture in the foyer. (He didn't introduce himself, no ID, nothing. I should have kept the kids at home to call 911, if need be!)

Unknown Man: "What's in there?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Unknown Man: "What's inside that fixture?"

Me: "Lightbulbs..." (not knowing what he meant exactly.)

Unknown Man: "What kind?"

Me: "Better grab your step-ladder."

Unknown Man: big sigh... (unscrews glass cover, finds CFL, sighs, writes down the serial number on the side of the CFL) "When did you buy this bulb and where?"

Me: "I don't know, about 2 years ago at Home Depot or Lowes."

Unknown Man: "Well, which is it? Home Depot or Lowes? And was it exactly 2 years or more than 2 years?"

Me: ???? (Are you freaking kidding me.)

And this was repeated with every single light in every single light fixture we had. He wanted to know where EXACTLY I purchased each and every bulb. Who remembers these things?! Then he got snippy with me when I didn't know.

Each bulb had to be unscrewed and have the little numbers written down. After a while he'd say, "Lemme guess, Home Depot or Lowes. You don't actually know. About two years ago."

We have a lot of CFLs and he was starting to get pissed. Every single CFL made him seem to get madder. It was as if he wanted us to have ZERO energy-saving light bulbs.

They come in all kinds of shapes now. We have these:

And these. And these. All these squiggles and wiggles... gott'em.

He also started asking me what I did with my life. What did my husband do? Didn't I think I should go back to college and study something useful? Don't I know that the kids aren't going to need me forever? Oh, I like ceramics? He told me I really should start a business of painting dungeons and dragons figurines.

Or pressing weeds into clay tiles. And then he told me he really is trained as a city planner. But has never worked as one. And he used to be a drug addict. And he really likes my oak furniture, and it looks really expensive and where did I get it and how much did it cost? And he doesn't have a house and can't seem to get the job and house thing to coincide. And he used to live in San Francisco. And cilantro is good for getting mercury out of your blood.

He also asked me how many TVs we have. One. How many hours we watched TV a week. I said 2, at most. He looked at me doubtfully. I nodded. He then said the kids must all have computers in their rooms then and play computer games all the time. I said no. (WTF?)

Then he asked me where I keep the spare lightbulbs because he needed to write down the numbers on all those too. I told him I wasn't sure where they were since we were kind of reorganizing (more like disorganizing). I told him I'd call my husband since he'd know. The guy told me not to call my husband "since he is actually working (unlike me) and not to interrupt him at his job." That I "could stand to learn a thing or two about lightbulbs."

I was about to drop-kick the jerk but instead said, "You know, I kind of expected you to come in here and say 'yay, good job. You get a gold star, you are using lots of energy efficient bulbs.' But you just seem kind of annoyed with all the bulbs we do have. And by the way, who knows where and when they bought each bulb?"

He said, "Lots of people have photographic memories about their lightbulbs. And lots of people think they are doing the right thing by using those bulbs, but what about when the bulbs break or they burn out, then what do you do? People need to protect their families."

I said, "I save the spent bulbs for when the recycler's toxic waste day comes along, I don't just throw them out. So I get a gold star for that. I do the same for used batteries. I recycle. Gold star for that. I even compost. We installed a high-efficiency furnace and hot water heater in the two houses we've owned. Gold star again. We don't watch tons of TV, we actually go outside, play games, talk and read. And I do take care of my family. I have to say this is a gold star day, all around. I have to give myself a big. Fat. Gold. Star. Now, you have two minutes to get out of my house because you have been here two long hours and I have to go get my kids."

And I'll take that $100 now, thank you.

But why was I seeking approval from the lightbulb counter? I can give myself a gold star any time I please.

Stressless?

2010-07-22T23:21:00.005-04:00

My question: if I buy this chair, will I really stress less? Because if so, it may be worth it. Maybe a discount voucher should come with each passing of the OA.

Ha ha! I just checked out the site and they are available in three sizes.

Not just S, M, and L, oh, no!

But Stressless® Diplomat (Small) • Consul (Medium) • Ambassador (Large)

Swimmers Ear

2010-07-20T15:03:00.002-04:00

My daughter has swimmer's ear. We've never experienced that before. I guess it's an infection from water getting stuck in the ear canal and the ear getting infected. All I know is she says, "Ow!," when you touch it on the outside.

The Doc. has us putting ear drops in 4 times a day for 10 days. That's fun. And we need to try to keep it dry. We swim a lot, so that could be tough. What's summer without swimming?

My father-in-law is getting his knee replacement surgery today. So we are praying for him. I told the kids the knee components will be metal. My boys think it's pretty cool that they will have a cyborg-grandpa. Part robot, part Grandpa. I hope the recovery isn't too difficult for Grandpa. Or Grandma. I hope he's not a cranky patient once he comes home from the hospital. He'll be back to playing Rummy before long, I hope.

Update: Grandpa is doing well. He is out of surgery, everything went as scheduled. He's in the hospital, recuperating. He says he went for "the top of the line chrome knee." Of course he did, he drives a Lincoln.

On the register for SIX months.

2010-07-19T14:47:00.002-04:00

My husband has been on the register since January. What once seemed like it would happen (getting called), might not. I mean, really, even if he passes the German test, it might not. There were 162 people on the PD register when calls started out a few days ago, he was around #70, I think.

He is going to take the German test in August. He has also started a second (freaking) candidacy. He submitted the PNQs yesterday. So the man is trying.

Bravo to all those who got called. Kudos to the brilliant, multi-lingual former stock broker/lawyer/banker/professor/whatever brilliant things they do that get them hired in 5 minutes. Yeah for the people who whine and moan and say, "Oh I'll never get in, when will I get in, when will I ever get the call with my measly Arabic/Turkish/Mandarin speaking 5.9?!" Because guess what? You WILL get in. And you know it.

Whatever.

It's not your fault. I blame spreadsheets. They are like meth for Type A people.

And guess what else? Some people don't have nannies, or babysitters. Or housekeepers.

Or friends now. haha. Sorry about the rant.

(In all seriousness, congrats to everybody. The process means you are all hard-workers, smart and patient. Just try to go easy on the spreadsheets, will ya?)

How to write PNQ's that get you noticed.

2010-07-15T23:32:00.000-04:00

My husband is working on his essays that are due on Monday. They are called PNQ's for any non-FSers out there. (Personal Narrative Questions, I believe.)

I have been tasked with hearing them. There are 5 that need to be submitted.

I have been judging if this one is better than that one. Is that one stronger than this one? Does this one address his strengths better than the other? Does this project sound too broad? And on... (I don't mind at all. Really.)

Last night, as I was reading them, I hit on the way to make PNQ answers really pop. To really draw attention. To make them SING, if you will. And I have to tell you, my husband agreed. It was late and we had a good laugh.

Simply add these words to the end of each sentence of your essay,

"...in bed."

Suddenly, "Developing and implementing an innovative strategy..." doesn't sound so dry, does it?

Yowza!

Excitement of the day. No, not the call.

2010-07-14T22:56:00.002-04:00

What'd I do today, you ask? (I heard you askin'.)

Oh, not much, just SAVED A LIFE!!!

Holy frickin' moly.

Yeah, me.

Swimming at the pool. Some little kid is all, "AHHhhhhhhh!!! AAahhhhhh!!!! EEEEEeeeee!!!" In the deep end. No adults around. The kid was panicking and his face was barely staying up above the water, his arms were crazy all around.

There were two lifeguards on duty. Sleeping, I guess.

I swam to him, fast, zoooooom, zooooom. I was there. Grabbed that little kid around the chest and side-stroked his little booty to the pool edge. I put his chubby hands on the deck and lifted his butt from below. Thankfully, two adults were there to help pull him out. Because by then I was getting shakey. What just happened?!

The mom was very thankful. Another lady was thankful. I was embarrassed. The lifeguards looked oblivious.

All in a days' work.

Back to the set of Baywatch for me.

Lordy McFlordy, that was a long drive!

2010-07-11T23:34:00.000-04:00

Yee-ha, I'm home. Screw the FS. I'm never leaving home again. I hate suitcases. And traveling. And cars. And staying with relatives and staying in different hotels each night. And you know three kids don't really fit in regular hotel rooms, so one kid always got the sleeping bag on the floor. And repacking the wet swimsuits and ...

Ok, maybe I'm being overly dramatic. But maybe not.

This was the road trip to Missouri, "The show me (the exit) state".

Day 1: Drove 11 hours. Spent the night in Richmond, Indiana. Noticed billboards such as: "Jesus says Read your Bible!" and "Repent lest ye go to Hell!" Also saw many Tea Party billboards. Just saying.
Day 2: Drove 6 hours to St. Louis, Missouri. Hot. So hot. The sun scorching there. Maybe need to do more repenting? Hotel night with all 6 siblings and the in-laws. Big dinner for the 50th. Very nice. Lots of nieces and nephews.
Day 3: Drove 3 hours to Jefferson City stopping at family farms along the way to visit and reminisce. Spent the day at an uncle's house and lake for a reunion with hundreds (?) of my husband's cousins and aunts and uncles. Lots of eating, fishing, trying to figure out who people were. Spent the night at another aunt's house. (Former 1st grade teacher - loves kids - awesome!!)
Day 4: Drove 2 hours to Lake of the Ozarks house. Four siblings and hubby's parents rented a 5 bedroom house for three nights. It was very nice, plenty big and had mint green carpet throughout. But no chocolate chips. The house is high on a hill/cliff, with a million stairs to the water. Not great for my father-in-law who gets a knee replacement soon. :-( Also, only a dock to jump off into 20 foot deep water, so not great for the really little kids. :-(
Day 5: Rain. Went in Bridal Cave. Later my vegetarian husband caught a big catfish. Mother-in-law attempted to cut off its head in front of all the grand kids. Turns out the knives were very dull or she's not working out enough or the bones of catfish are very strong. She turns over the live catfish to her son-in-law as multiple grand children start to cry. Catfish for dinner on the grill. Kids all ate other food.
Day 7: Trip to the beach. I was disappointed to see that a dammed river has really unattractive beaches. As we were playing in the water, throwing around tennis balls, my very athletic nephew threw a ball to my husband who caught the ball. In the process, the ball hit his outstretched hand, knocking the wedding ring off his ring finger and into the muddy, mucky, silty water. Everyone froze. We all looked. The visibility was zero. We were all feeling around in the water, which was chest deep. My hubby felt terrible. He went to a dive shop and called a diver who came and searched with a metal detector for an hour, until his tank of air ran out. No luck. So a platinum ring that's been on his finger for 11 years is still there. Sadness.
Day 8: Clean the house, drive 4 hours to St. Louis to go up the arch. Do the arch. Cool. Nice. Back in the car kids. Drive to Terre Haute, IN. Can't remember how many hours... 5? Hotel with a pool.
Day 9: Back in the car. Drive 12 hours. Home at 11pm. Child torture complete.

Total mileage 2, 370. No dvd player. Audiobooks only.

Reflections from the trip:
-Fifty years is a long time to be married. Ways to get to 50: Be willing to compromise and say, "Yes, dear." and "I'm sorry."
-I never need to go to Lake of the Ozarks ever again.
-Vacationing with many family members is difficult. Different schedules, expectations, etc.
-With all the uncertainty that this FS thing is bringing to us and all the stress it adds to our lives, that symbol of our marriage flying off and landing in murky waters made us realize that we need to make sure to nurture this marriage and each other first. If it isn't worth doing together, it isn't worth doing.
-I should say the word "dang" way more than I do.
-My 8 yr old son now owns an actual civil war mini cannonball from his great grandfather's field in Missouri. So no more joking about my collections.
-I really do like home. Does that mean I fail the FS litmus test? And is Missouri a foreign post? Because I could really argue on that one...

FSOT

2010-06-30T23:58:00.000-04:00

The results of the FSOT (round 2) are in.

He passed.

I hope this trend continues.

PNQs are next.

Missouri, not Missoura.

2010-06-30T18:57:00.006-04:00

We are driving from Upstate New York to Missouri. Are you jealous? Do you wish that was your summer vacation?

We are driving with our three kids to

St. Louis

for a big 50th Anniversary dinner for my in-laws. Remember them? At Easter?
Then the next day we are driving another 2 hours to

Jefferson City

for another anniversary get-together, then the next day we are driving another 2 hours to

Lake of the Ozarks

for a few days with some of my husband's brothers and sisters, then back to St. Louis to go up the

arch

then we are driving to

Indiana

then.... home to pay the doggie boarding bill.

Good thing Missouri is nice and cool, low-humidity and refreshing in the summer (Not!), because we all have matching BLACK 50th anniversary shirts... !!! They resemble concert t-shirts, except they say "50th anniversary tour" and the names of my in-laws. I'll be wearing that bad-boy all the time once we get back to civilization.

145 on PD register

2010-06-29T00:02:00.008-04:00

The PD register has 145 people on it as of today. Halfway down there is a woman biting her nails... no, her cuticles. No, drinking ouzo. (Always talking about the ouzo... I haven't had it since I was 13 and in Greece.) Screw it.

A little over a year ago, my husband took a buyout from the newspaper where he was an assigning editor. Now he's a PR dude. I think he's a "communications specialist" or something like that. It's not a job to stay in long term. It's more a bridge job to allow him to say, "Hey, I'm a Public Relations guy now, not a newspaper guy, see, look at my resume." The idea was that the FS would have snapped him up by now... SNAPPED, I say!! But, he's thinking that it's time to start looking around to see if he can find the next PR job, just in case. Because they **LOVE** him at his current job, but the love and money are not equal, if you catch my drift, in the public school system.

Schools offers job security.
So does the FS, if we ever get in.
Schools educate children.
The FS is a big fat monster that eats children.
It's a big fat hairy monster that doesn't wear deodorant and has matted hair.

And it makes you learn a language that you might not ever even need to use.

A big fat monster offering "job security."

I bet it even talks too loud in movies and spits a little when it talks to you. eww.

I think I need some sleep. Sorry folks.

These Doonesbury comics (from Slate.com) made me laugh about newspapers. And yes, we still subscribe. (Click to make larger.)

Partay.

2010-06-26T23:39:00.008-04:00

Today I had 8 boys in my house in addition to my three kids. My house has never been so loud. This was for eight-year-old S's birthday party.

OK, I would like people to stop having birthdays. Back in the olden days you got one party. Ever. You chose wisely. None of this, "Every year party crap."

Anyhoo.

I'm beat. Next birthday is my husband's. Next week. Hopefully he doesn't want to invite over 8 friends and have a sword fight in the basement too. Or wrestle in the front yard. Or climb the trees. Or mix root beer, lemonade, sprite and water and call it his "beer." Hopefully his friends don't have to be reminded that they DON'T HAVE TO YELL WHEN WE ARE ALL INSIDE AND ARE STANDING NEXT TO ONE ANOTHER!!! And I know none of his friends would annoy our dog by repeatedly asking the dog to give "high fives."

Actually, they were all good kids. Nice kids. And I daresay we had ... fun.

Another cup of coffee (ouzo)

2010-06-26T10:31:00.007-04:00

Phone Conversation

My mom: You sound down.
Me: Yeah.
My mom: What's going on?
Me: (Listing a bunch of whining stuff I should have just kept to myself.)
My mom: Oh my, well that does sound terrible. I would be stressed about that too. I would not be able to handle all that uncertainty and life change. All that unknown, I just couldn't do it. Better you than me.
Me: You did not make me feel any better, Mom.
My mom: Well, sorry.

Why do I do this to myself? Why don't I just say "Good."

It could be:

My mom: You sound down.

Me: No, I'm good.

My mom: Are you sure?

Me: Yeah, I'm good. I just need another cup of coffee. (vodka/whiskey/ouzo)

...Hello?...

2010-06-24T11:29:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was the first day of summer vacation here in our neck o' the woods.

I picked the kids up at school (a half day) on their last day of school. We stopped for big ole double dip ice cream cones with lots of sprinkles for our pre-lunch appetizers in celebration.

A few days earlier, I went into C's classroom to read a book for her birthday. She picked the book, "Bark George." It's about a dog who eats lots of other animals and so he only can make funny other animal sounds until he goes to the vet and the vet reaches down his throat while wearing a long latex glove and pulls out all these animals until George can bark again. Then George's mom is very happy until George gets home and she says "Bark, George." And he responds, "Hello?" (It seems he may have swallowed the vet.) All the kids looked at me kind of perplexed - except for C who explained, "He ate the vet, get it? Get it? Dontcha get it?" Anyway, it was funny. C is very social. She is like the mayor of Kindergarten. She likes everybody in her class except Mean Brice. Of him she says, "He bites our Kindergarten friends and pushes and says things like 'I'm the boss of me! I make up my own rules in my own head,' He is not a friendly friend." Future diplomat?

Then there was the kindergarten concert. Cute to the max. Songs about monkeys jumping on beds, mud, love, etc. Sign language hand motions to more than half the songs... just more cuteness than you can shake a video camera at. And there were plenty of those.

My son S turned the big 8 a few days ago! He is very happy. He got a Nintendo DS from my father and step-mom. Here is S opening it. He looks like a Shriner with the bow on his hat, doesn't he?

And nothing says "birthday" better than having the Happy birthday song being played on the baritone right? Yeah, I thought so. Here is my aunt serenading S. Dude, my family rocks.

And then there was another party at our house, with my mom. (Divorced grandparents always means more parties!) S asked for Nana's famous BBQ ribs for dinner and cheesecake as the birthday cake. She was happy to oblige.

And of course there were more gifts. S has a love of birds. Or more specifically, bird feathers. He will see a hawk and say, "Drop a feather, drop a feather." Or a finch, or a blue jay. He has quite a collection already, just from hiking and keeping his eyes on the ground. So my mother asked her friends who are quite "crunchy" to keep their eyes open for feathers. Part of S's gift was some new feathers, and, let me tell you, he was a happy kid. Pheasant, turkey, peacock, red-tailed hawk, and some other more wacky ones I can't remember. Last year she gave him a real raccoon skull, wrapped in purple satin. So she really has a keen eye for what boys dig.

We also had the last soccer games of the season. Those were played during high temperatures and in full sun. Hello, heat exhaustion.

So, we've been busy. Now we have the summer to enjoy. Of course, with the three kids home, that's a different kind of busy, isn't it?

DSS vs Army

2010-06-22T23:44:00.006-04:00

My next door neighbor signed up for the Army reserves last year. He's leaving for a year's deployment to Iraq in two days.

He used to be an EFM (Eligible Family Member). His wife used to be a Diplomatic Security Specialist. She's a teacher now. They decided the FS life wasn't for them after two posts. They have two daughters, ages 8 and 10.

I wonder if this is an improvement over the FS for them.

I sure hope if I'm an EFM it doesn't make me want to quit the FS and join the Army.

I sure hope the year goes by quickly (and safely) for them.

Good thoughts needed.

2010-06-17T15:13:00.007-04:00

There is a fellow blogger who has been waiting for her husband to get called off the register and invited to an A-100 class, she needs some good thoughts. She and I have commented back and forth a few times. She has three kids, like I do, but her kids are younger than mine are. Her husband is on the Pol. register. His score is *this* close to getting him called. If he was in any other cone, he'd have been called by now. She has been antsy to get their FS adventure started. We've cheered each other on.

I checked her blog today and discovered, with horror, that she has just been diagnosed with lung cancer. I can not believe it. Luckily, it is operable, has not spread and is the "best" kind of cancer to have. She is being operated on June 22.

I am sending prayers and good wishes for her and her family. I am also thankful that she and her husband are still in their home, with their family and friends nearby, where they need to be so she can get well. I'm glad that they are not in an apartment in VA, far from everybody who loves them, with a new job and no support network, and their stuff in storage, about to move to who-knows-where.

Not that things always happen for a reason, but, this time, I feel they surely did. Health, family, life, those come first. The job, it comes second.

Say a prayer for Jamie if you are the praying-type. Or send her some good vibes.

And Jamie, you're going to kick cancer's ass, then be ready for whatever adventure you feel like enjoying.

The F-what?

2010-06-15T22:46:00.014-04:00

As suggested, I will keep on with my life as if the FS is never even going to happen for us. The FS? The F-what? Never heard of it.

Well then.

I have decided that since nothing different is going to happen in my life and that my husband is not practicing speaking a strange language (yes, I said it, strange) and since we did not have to give 1,000 vials of blood between us, and there is not palpable tension regarding the future, and our life will surely not be uprooted...

I will continue life as usual.

I will keep adding to my:

La-Z-Boy recliners in all 38 fabric choices collection

Lead garden statuary collection

Weight lifting and dumbbells collection

Cinder block collection

Anvil collection

Steel I-beam collection

Civil War artillary collection

Waters of the world collection

I feel better already. I think that's a good idea, don't you? It's good to have a Plan A...

Oh crap, I need a Plan!

2010-06-14T14:48:00.002-04:00

My husband is trying to get into the Foreign Service. (...gasp...) That is our Plan A. He left the limping newspaper industry and is now working in a soul-sucking public school district as the PR dude. Did I just say that, soul-sucking? More like soul-anesthetizing. Tail-chasing, inefficient, soul-shrinking, anesthetizing...anyway...

I read a great blog post about how I need to move the FS into a "Plan B" position and just keep on living my life. In order to stay sane. That is good advice. Except for one small problem. Okay, two small problems.

One: Who said I am sane to start out with?

And two: I don't have plans, or letters for that matter. I mean of my own.

I don't have much going on in my life right now. With or without the FS. Well, I have plenty going on: Husband, three kids, dog who eats goose poop, cat who bites ankles, gymnastics practice, cub scouts, soccer, tennis, chess camp, computer camp, summer rec, swim lessons, German lessons, endless birthday season (x 4), family reunion in missouri, house, cars, yard, laundry, bills, housework, trying to stay in shape.

Let me clarify. I need a purpose. Maybe a job or a career. A thing that makes me go Wow! I need to leap out of bed and look in the mirror and say, "Okay, good morning, Crazy lady, today is the day! Let's get this party started!"

I spent my first year of college in architecture school. Then I was really practical, and got a Bachelors of Fine Arts in... oh, you'll just love this... uh, huh... ceramics. My grandfather said I was "playing in the mud." He was right. I also like painting with oils ('cause that stuff is safe to smell). I planned to get my MFA (which is the "terminal" degree in fine arts) and work on my own work and eventually teach at the college level. I pictured myself working in my studio, my dog lazing nearby, windows letting light stream in, then teaching partially disinterested underclassmen a few days a week at some university, while an agent represented me to galleries and found public art contests for me to enter, and win! (This is my fantasy, after all.) But I only applied to two MFA programs and got rejected to both. Nobody said, "Wait a year and try again," or "Keep working on your portfolio," or "Try other programs." So I worked for a year and applied to a masters program to teach art. I got in to a great art school, the best art school, some might say. But I was in the art education program. Even though I got to take some "real" studio classes on the side (which I loved), I was teaching art K-12. Not making art full time. Then I graduated and had to start paying off the loans. So I taught for 6 years. When my husband and I had kids and we decided I wanted to stay home with the kids, I wasn't sad about leaving teaching. And I have loved raising my kids.

So that brings us to now. Plan A or B or whatever. Umm. Before this summer my kids were 5, 7 and 9 years old. By August they will be 6, 8 and 10. (No longer an "odd" year, I'm back to even.) I've been home with them for 10 years. (Ten?!) All three kids will be in school full days starting in September. What is my Plan? We thought we'd be getting "the call" by now.

I could try to go back to teaching again in the fall. Although with budgets what they are in NY, art is getting cut everywhere. But teaching isn't what makes me happy, it isn't what makes me feel alive and at my best. Making art is. At least it was, back in the "Olden Days," as my kids say, "Back in the 1900's." Hopefully if the FS plan works out, I'll have a chance to work on Plan Art, maybe for now I should just tow the line and work on Plan $.

You & Me

2010-06-09T17:03:00.002-04:00

This Dave Matthews song was playing on the ipod (on shuffle mode) when I came in from the bus stop this morning. My husband and I hugged, then danced in the kitchen. I cried. I think he might have gotten a little teary-eyed too. Together, we can do anything. I think this could be the theme song for FS couples.

FSOT x 2

2010-06-08T09:05:00.002-04:00

Right this very minute my husband is sitting for the FSOT again. Yes, he's started his second candidacy. Same cone. PD. He's already on the register, just not sure he will get "the call."

He hasn't yet taken the German language phone test. He's not very confident in passing. At least the first time.

I miss being happy. And smiling. And laughing. And feeling like me.

I miss that happier me. I miss feeling secure.

Is it displaced by all this uncertainty? Sadness is in my head.

Trying to be positive.

Gotta smile today for a family portrait to give to my in-laws for their 50th wedding anniversary.

Up in the air (Cessna 172)

2010-06-05T22:12:00.001-04:00

My two boys got to ride in a Cessna 172 today. It was the Young Eagles program. My husband arranged it through cub scouts. The two boys, ages 7 and 9, took off with Jim (who has been flying for 40 years) while my dear husband stood on the ground watching them disappear into the sky. "Please come back," he says he thought, as they took off. The boys LOVED it!!!!! Loved it. They were in the air for 25 minutes, or so. We'll see who asks for pilot lessons first. They are already starting to hint at it.

I was taking C to her soccer game during the flight time. She did lots of cartwheels today on the field. Last week she scored a goal, the week before she scored two, this week, the coach said to play defense. So she went back and waited. But there wasn't too much action. So she started doing cartwheels. I ended up yelling from the sidelines, "C, no cartwheels on the field." She smiled and waved. Then she started doing hand stands. And smiling. But when the ball did come down to her end, she kicked it out, away from the goal. And smiled.

Later, we had a (kid) birthday party for C. All the invitees attended. Twelve 6 year olds did art projects, ate cupcakes and strawberries, drank lemonade and smiled at each other. They are all in the same Kindergarten class. Very cute.

My husband is a real tiger.

2010-06-03T23:50:00.007-04:00

Early this morning:

Me: I posted photos on my blog of C's birthday.

Husband: Let's see. . . . . Oh, nice.

pause of 5-10 minutes

Husband: You know, when we get into the Foreign Service, you will probably have to close up your blog and have one that is only private. Or have one with no pictures.

Me looking at him like he is a wolf, or a bear, or a ...

TIGER!

Me: Why?

Husband: Well, you sure gave lots of photos and details of C. And the boys. And our yard. We don't want to be in some country where terrorists can easily spot us from your blog.

Me: You are a TIGER!

Husband: Thank you. (Looking pleased with himself because he thinks I'm saying "Vavoom! Baby, you're a tiger!")

Me: No, not like that!! You big dork.

But maybe he's right.
I should be more guarded with my hula-hooping photos. Y'all are getting privileged glimpses. Please do not tell the terrorists that American Girl dolls reside in my house, I have a yellow lab, I need to weed more. My cat bites our ankles and we have initials for names. The results could be dastardly. Hell, it's not like State is giving bloggers any pointers, from what I've heard. Just don't be a "stupid" blogger. Honestly. That might not be enough of a line for me.

Tiger photo shamelessly stolen from A Daring Adventure.

I'm a er, um, grandma!

2010-06-03T00:24:00.002-04:00

Welcome.

Come sit down on the back deck.

The chairs are especially glowy.

The trees are especially green.

The bow and arrows are put away, you're safe for now from the boys.

But wait.

What was that?

A birthday?

Someone is SIX?

What IS that?

Ut-oh. (Enter Jaws music)

She sees you.

She sees EVERYTHING.

Every. Thing. From her coffin. With a window.

Knock knock. Scratch Scratch.

She's out!! Look out.

Is she evil? Or good?

Good, I guess.

And she calls me (gulp) "Grandma."

Lanie was a gift from my father and step-mom.

Welcome to the family, Lanie.

B and S found it thrilling.

Another gift C got was a HULA HOOP.

Yeah, I can't do that anymore.

What happened?

But C can.

You can watch the video below.

She's a spunky, funny, groovy, strong, independent six year old girl.

-3,476

2010-05-31T22:50:00.004-04:00

My husband says every time I talk about the stupid, dumb-ass Foreign Service that it is with a negative tone. Why would he think that? Why, I ask?

So it got me to thinking. If I assigned a (+1) for every blog post I wrote that had positive vibes about the cool, hip FS and (-1) for every blog post about the life-stopping, time-stealing, eternity-of-waiting FS, what would the grand total be? Would I be above water or sinking like I'm wearing concrete boots?

I'm thinking the concrete boots on the floor of the lake would win.

Maybe I do always say negative things about the FS. But it's my blog and I can vent worries and concerns here. Anxieties. Angst...that German word again. People can relate.

But I can be positive. I would be happy if we got "the call." Really. I can say things that are nice about the FS.

Look. I'll show you. I'll prove my husband wrong.

Dear Foreign Service,

I'd like to join you. You sound very interesting. There's the travel. The challenging work for my husband. For me, the packing, unpacking, the to-do lists, the veterinary lists, school transfer papers, dealing with a car, total bureaucracy, giving up a yard and house, family, friends, lake, paths.

Ok, ok, ok, wait. You have nice eyes. You are tall and handsome.

You have a strong grip. Like how you squeeze. And squeeze. And never call. Ever. No call. And then there was the pole dancing... and still, no call. Bitch. I hate you.

Your friend,

Me

Ok, yeah, maybe he's right.

Classy lunch date.

2010-05-29T17:27:00.006-04:00

My husband just took me out for lunch. We got Thai food from a restaurant that was next to a POLE DANCING fitness studio. Yes, stripper pole...fitness. Did you know there was such a thing?!

Then we walked by the lovely Erie Canal. While we were sitting down, looking out at the water and the boats, a small trophy dog disembarked from a yacht and came over and lifted his leg on our bag of leftovers.

Dammit!

Panang curry to go.
Gone.

Would 50 people please go DNC? Thanks.

2010-05-28T00:40:00.005-04:00

When I was in college, I took a geology class with a goofy friend named Damien. He was a terrible student (really atrocious) and only lasted one year at the university. Anyway, the geology professor was old as dirt, or maybe limestone, and talked in a monotone. The class was in a small, dated auditorium/lecture hall.

So one day, the professor was listing numbers of something or other. I can't recall exactly what. Maybe dates, or melting temperatures or densities... who knows?

"75, 86, 22, 197, 45, 38, (all in monotone, mind you) 165, 11..."

All the students were dutifully taking notes while trying not to fall asleep when Damien STOOD UP! and shouted joyfully, "Bingo!"

It still makes me smile. He was a fun guy to party with. Not that great at the studying though.

I tell that story because the "calls" are going out for August A-100 right now. And numbers are on my mind. If only 50 people would go DNC. I have a feeling that's as likely as getting Bingo in a Geology class. 1, 2, 3, 55, 57, 62... ?!

Oh yeah, well I have a mirror...

2010-05-26T10:05:00.006-04:00

Thank you for encouraging me to continue to blog.
I appreciate the reminder that I can write whatever I want.
And that the FS community understands where I'm coming from.
And that this process IS crazy.
And that I am entertaining.
And that without the blog to vent I may get nuttier than my mother-in-law's fruit cake. (She really does make fruit cake and pays a lot to ship that brick at Christmas.)

I made my husband take all three kids to soccer practice last night and I went to the mall. All alone. He asked if I was looking for anything in particular... I just glared at him and he cowered in fear. He sensed I was about to tell him I was looking for my ever-lovin' lost mind at Ann Taylor, I think. Tonight is German-Double-Dose. So, it was good to get out. I played with an ipad in the Apple store. I told the Apple "genius" that he had fabulous eyebrows and he grinned and said "Thank you, I work so hard at them." So, I think I made his week.

Here's a fun little random thing that happens in our house.

Almost daily, either during or after breakfast, my two boys have a kind-hearted (really!) discussion that starts something like this:

B (age 9) : (pointing at S's face) "Pfft, I just blasted your face."

S (age 7) : "No, you didn't because I had up a shield."

B: "No, my blaster can blast through shields."

S: "My shield is made of Titanium."

B: "My blaster is specially made for Titanium shields."

S: "Well, I blasted you at the same time and my blast destroyed your blast in mid-air and my blast was stronger and actually overpowered your blast and turned you to dust."

B: (holding up hand) "I had a mirror up, you just turned yourself to dust."

S: (Looks at me)

Me: (I'm making lunches and laughing to myself. ) "B, that isn't a mirror you have, it's duct tape."

B: "Ohhhhh! Well, I'm made of holograms, so I am not really where you think I am."

S: "Well, I have heat-seaking lasers that find life anywhere it hides."

B: "I am wearing a heat-hiding suit."

I have to say that each verbal exchange is met with, "Ooh, good one..."

Finally it ends with me saying, "Okay, go brush your teeth, I have breath-smelling lasers that can seek out stinky boys."

A break?

2010-05-25T13:56:00.000-04:00

Well, I think I might need to stop blogging. My posts seem to be decom(post)ing.

There is one person who reads this blog and knows me in real, actual, life. She called me today from London, England to see if I'm ok. To see if I'm not actually shooting birds in my backyard. To make sure I'm not seeing Mary Poppins and the Rockettes or something. Or bathing in the birdbath. :-)

Hi J, love you, miss you!! You are the sweetest friend.

Anyway, I don't see much good coming from this. And I don't see these silly posts helping anybody really. Other than being rants to let some steam out of my pressure cooker brain.

ho, hum.

Shall I call it a day?

Nature girl v. nature

2010-05-25T09:49:00.003-04:00

The PD register has 131 people on it. Apparently. (According to the dark and stormy Darth Vader "Shadow Register.") My husband's spot is halfway down the register. Bloody frickin' 'ell.

As I sit here, on the deck with my coffee in my Adirondack chair, my backyard is a lush paradise with woods, flowers, ferns, birds, frolicking wildlife...

Oh, look, there's Mary Poppins! The deer just started dancing like the Rockettes. Squirrels are hula-hooping. The beautiful gold finch birds are working together to pull a banner that reads... wait... what does that say?

It says, "You are frickin' nuts to leave this for the FS?!!"

Hold on, I'm getting my air soft pellet gun.* I'll show all this beautiful nature. Eff you. We are leaving, if we ever get "called"... I am going to Oakwoody. That sounds very, VERY naturish.

He's been on the register for FOUR months. He can stay there for 14 more months before he expires. Of course there might not be any birds left in my backyard by that time.

*I do not have an air soft pellet gun. Only a shot gun. Kidding, kidding.

Julia Child sings buttery lullabies in my ear.

2010-05-24T15:13:00.001-04:00

I just returned the book My Life in France, by Julia Child, to the library. It is supposed to be a very good book. Especially for someone in my, ahem, situation.

But, I kept falling asleep to it. I got to page 36 in the 3 weeks I had it checked out.

I like reading. I like Julia Child. She makes me laugh. I like pretending I'm her and making her voice and saying, "You simply need to butter the duck."

Anyway. That book is my Ambien. Five minutes and Zzzzzz, book on chest. Drool on pillow.

I saw the DVD Julie and Julia. I enjoyed it. And I would probably get through the book My Life in France too, if I owned it. But I'm unwilling to "go overdue" at the library for Julia. I follow the rules of the library pretty strictly. Even though the overdue fine is only a quarter, or something small (I don't actually know how much the fine is) I returned the book. I tried to renew it but there were other people with holds on the book. I hate paying late fines. The librarians give me that judgmental look, as if to say, "Tsk, tsk, and she looked like such a nice young woman... not the type to keep her library books overdue... shocking!"

I'll check it out again. I'm not giving up on you, Julia.

Herding cats

2010-05-21T08:56:00.009-04:00

I chaperoned my second-grader's field trip to the zoo yesterday. It was a beautiful day. The temperature was 78 degrees and breezy. The sun was shining. And there were more than enough chaperones, since we have an over-achieving, hyper-involved group of parents.

I originally thought I would be in charge of a large group of boys. Seven-year-old S told me his class was divided up into animal groups for the field trip and he was an "Arabian sand cat." He said I would be in charge of all the Arabian sand cats. I pictured me, literally, herding cats.

But it turned out that I was only in charge of two boys. So I said, "You guys lead the way and I'll follow." It worked out great. Except for a few unexpected lessons from the lions.

7 yr old boys: "What are they doing?"

Me: "Um, uh, playing piggy-back. Let's move along... Oh, look, poison dart frogs!!"

I was NOT going to teach them anything about that topic!! Let their parents do that job.

Pouf and Mullet, the 70's Vampire Band.

2010-05-20T00:21:00.007-04:00

"Hey, Mama, what would you do if you found out Dada was really a vampire?"

This was the question I got out of the blue as I was driving nine-year-old B yesterday evening.

I should tell you we don't do the vampire stuff in our house. At least not yet. I don't watch True Blood. We don't even have cable. We haven't read those vampire books, you know the ones, where the teen girl fawns over the boy and says she'll love him even if he bites her and wrecks her life. And they look at each other longingly, a lot. I can't think of the name... you know the ones.

Anyway.

I paused and asked B what it would mean to me if Dada was, indeed, a vampire. How would that impact my life? Because I'd really need to know.

B told me that if I got bitten I would become a vampire and would not be alive any more. I couldn't see my reflection. I'd have to stay away from people. I'd have to avoid the sunlight and only come out at night. I'd want to drink blood.

Hm. I thought.

"Well, I guess I'd have a talk with Dada and I'd tell him that he could be a vampire but that I wasn't interested in being a vampire. So please do not bite me. He can be what he wants. But I can also be what I want and he shouldn't try to change me."

I am not even kidding. It's like the 70's Free to Be, You and Me album got pureed in a blender together with, well, blood and vampire fangs along with some parenting 101 course. I don't know what was happening to the words coming out of my mouth. But then I said this:

"Dada is a vegetarian and I'm not. We don't try to change each other. Just like he could be a vampire and I wouldn't have to be."

Jumping Josephine on a pogo stick! WTF?

But of course, then I had another thought.

Vampire = Vegetarian = ...
...
...
wait for it ...
...
Foreign Service Officer?!?!

Could it be?
Blood sausage for dinner, anyone?

In other news... I got my hair cut tonight and I now have what looks like a mullet instead of "side-swept wispy bangs," so that should be fun at the bus stop tomorrow. I'm hoping it looks a bit better when I have a hand in styling it. It ain't pretty, people. But that's what I get for trying the new girl. Pouf and Mullet. Free to Be.