If It Takes A Village To Raise A Child ...

... where did my Village go?

My girlfriend put things into perspective for me a few weeks ago when I was having a meltdown of epic proportions. I was complaining that while life was finally on an upswing and most things were moving into place ... there was still something I couldn't put my finger on that had me REALLY depressed.

She called it Reverse Culture Shock.

Reverse Culture Shock is defined as "returning to one's home culture after growing accustomed to a new one can produce the same effects as Culture Shock. This results from the psychosomatic and psychological consequences of the readjustment process to the primary culture, and is surprisingly more difficult to deal with than the original culture shock."

I spent an inordinate amount of time questioning how I could be dealing with this considering ... a.) I've been back in the States now for over a year now, and b.) I've spent more time living in the States than abroad. But as I slowly move out of my funk, I'm beginning to understand just how much this has affected me... and our family.

Last year with Matt in Iraq, I was purely in survival mode in our tiny California rental house. We had very few of our own belongings with us. I knew our situation was temporary. And in retrospect, that's exactly how I acted. That's how the girls acted. We talked more about our future in Virginia rather than enjoy the time we spent in California

Now that we're here in Virginia, living in our new house with all of our own things, our focus is on establishing roots. Making life-long friends. Building a community. Though, we're finding that settling in and starting anew isn't as easy as it used to be. Yes we are together again as a family. And yes, we are completely unpacked, with most of the construction issues behind us. Yet I still am in search that one elusive piece of the puzzle I'm certain will hold the key to my happiness.

The reality of my reverse culture shock, is that I am seeking something that just doesn't exist. That a large piece of what I've come to expect and appreciate with each overseas move, is missing here. Moving back to the States now means ... that we don't live on a compound or have an Embassy / Consulate looking out for us. We don't have the immediate built-in friendships of those who are in the same situation as us... friendships based on same experiences that start strong and last a lifetime. We don't have the built-in work / family social structure that has been our saving grace, even when we may not always have appreciated it at the time. And the parent's don't all go to the same work place and do the same kind of job ...

Now that I recognize I'm comparing what our past was like to what our future holds, I need to let it go. It. Is. Just. Hard. Moreover, it's lonely. It took me seven years in three different countries to be comfortable enough to accept the chaos ... the fishbowl ... the diplomatic lifestyle. My neighbors here don't understand Matt's crazy work hours. The new friends I have don't care. The stories we all shared at dinner parties and at official events now seem far fetched when I tell them. I mean ... how many of Riley's friends really care that for her 7th birthday we took her to Singapore? How many of Sheridan's friends actually believe that she's American, despite her being born in Oman? How do I delicately address Grady's affinity for darker skinned people?

These past few months have not been the easiest of transitions. From an interim boss for Matt ... to the girls being introduced to cliques for the first time ... to repeatedly putting myself out there and going outside of my comfort zone to meet new ladies and build new relationships... (because unlike kids, thirty to forty year old women don't just knock on each other's doors and ask to become friends ... though that would make it SO much easier).

But every day is a new day and we are finally moving in the right direction. We're making plans. We're making friends. We're addressing this as a family. And just as the seasons begin to change, so too do our attitudes, as we slowly begin building our own little village.

Or at the very least for now, a small tribe.

The Obligatory Halloween Photos

Fall Party at the girls school on Friday night. Sleepover at our house Saturday night after our first snow day of the year. Block party on Sunday afternoon. And a potluck dinner finale pre trick-or-treating tonight.

This holiday is officially over... but not before I show off my little Elmo, Fallen Angel, and Disco Diva.

Hope everyone made out with as much 'loot' as we did! Happy Halloween.

The neighborhood kids from JUST our section of the street.

Occasionally Things DO Go Right Around Here ...

What should have been just a week-long project turned into a month-long affair when torrential rains and Trex issues ever so unkindly mixed.

But five pallets of gray Trex later ... our deck is finally complete!

Who's coming over for a barbecue? Just be prepared to sit on the floor... there's no telling when we'll get furniture!

L: The before picture. M: The deck is framed. R: Do you see the different colors?

L: Waiting for the new Trex. M: Entire deck ripped out again. R: Almost complete.

It's filthy and needs to be power washed ... but totally worth the wait!!

So Where Were We?

It's been so long since I've blogged that I've pretty much forgotten where we left off...

Did I tell you about the guy from the Environmentalist Company who came in with his fancy schmancy infrared camera to inspect the basement and see if there was any other mold growth? Only to discover that we had yet another leak in the basement and the entire wall under the guest bedroom had to be ripped out and air dried ... followed on with new insulation, sheet rock, and repainted.

Did I tell you that the Environmentalist Company washed down our entire basement with a mold, mildew, smell remover that they use in hospitals and cafeterias and then used a HEPA filter vacuum in the basement AND ran an industrial HEPA filter with a coal filter on top for four days. Only to have the smell in the storage room come back mere hours after they removed it?

Did I tell you two basement windows had to have all the brick surrounding the window removed, and then re-flashed, re-caulked, and the brick re-installed?

Did I tell you about the illnesses and missing school pictures? Or about Grady eating mud? Or about the 75 tulip bulbs I planted and 15 bags of mulch I just spread around the front yard?

Did I tell you about the girls latest orthodontic visits. Where they had their palate expanders put in? Or how I listened to the girls whine and moan for two weeks about how everything was getting stuck on the roof of their mouth?

Did I tell you about visiting our dear friends in Maryland last weekend? Where we watched these (now) six kids running around and playing like no time has passed between them ... even though it's been over two years since we last saw each other!

Did I tell you that my Endocrinologist got my blood results back and I'm on a new medication. At a lower dose. And I have low Vitamin D. Which I'm now taking meds for as well.

Oh yeah ... and did I tell you that we finally figured out that the smell in the basement has NOTHING to do with the builder or the house ... but is actually the treadmill that Matt bought on Craigslist...

... Yeah.

That's where we are.

Left: Riley, Kit, Gabby - 2004. Middle: with Sheridan - 2006. Right: with Jack - 2008

with Grady - 2011

The girls' palate expanders

On The Mend ...

I. Feel. Better.

Not great, but better than I have in about two months. Maybe more. Which is saying a lot, considering I didn't realize I was as sick as I was until I started to feel better.

It wasn't a sudden illness. It was a gradual feeling of malaise. Knowing something was just 'off'. I wasn't myself.

I began feeling tired. Not exhausted, just slightly worn out. Like I needed to sit down for a few minutes here and there. When I was a little shaky I chalked it up to too much caffeine. When I couldn't think straight because my head was all foggy, I assumed it was because I just didn't get a good night's sleep. Sometimes it would take me all morning to recover and get going with my day. Some days I never felt better at all.

These symptoms alone would never concern me. But all of the sudden I became aware that I had them all at the same time. That it was taking longer and longer to accomplish normal, everyday tasks. I became grumpy and hot and anxiety ridden. I stopped answering emails, blogging, communicating with family and friends. Something ... was ... wrong.

And then I noticed it. I was craving salt. My hair started falling out again. My face began looking like a pre-teen's with all the acne.

And I realized ... It's my Thyroid.

Of course being new to Virginia I don't have an endocrinologist. So I did what every other busy mother who's stressed over the B.S. in her brand new house would do. I googled my symptoms and self-diagnosed based on WebMd. For the next few days I analyzed how I felt shortly after taking my Thyroid medication. In a nutshell ... lousy. Three days later I went cold turkey off my meds.

Later that afternoon through our insurance company's website, I found an endocrinologist. However, when I called, they had WAY too many openings for me to feel comfortable. I don't know why it bothered me, but I always felt that any specialist worth their weight in gold would be difficult to get in to see. One who had THAT many open appointments couldn't be very good. Right?

Despite my hesitation, I did make the appointment for the following week. Because even a crappy Endo was better than no Endo. And at least he could check my levels and diagnose what was wrong.

A few days after I realized what the underlying problem probably was, I was at a lunch meeting with some mother's from Riley's class. I began over-sharing my ailments, as I often do, when one of the other mom's told me that several years ago she too had Thyroid issues ... which ultimately turned out to be cancer.

I don't know what came over me, but instead of asking her how they diagnosed it, if she was okay, or how she was feeling now, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "YAY, you have an endocrinologist!"

She gave me his name and less than an hour later I called and made my appointment. Seven weeks out, he MUST be good! Before I hung up, I stressed how sick I was and begged and pleaded with them to put me on the cancellation list. Just in case ...

Sure enough, I got the call last Thursday afternoon. A coveted cancellation. On a Saturday no less. One week after calling to make my initial appointment. I took it and immediately canceled my appointment with the 'stand-in' endocrinologist, who didn't even ask if I wanted to reschedule...

The appointment went well. The doctor ordered a bevy of blood tests. A Thyroid sonogram. And even complimented me for listening to my body and going off my meds. I'm fluctuating between hypothyroid and hyperthyroid and my hormones are totally out of whack. He told me that once we have the blood results later this week we'll be able to begin the game of ping pong. He'll begin by serving me the first dose of new medication and my return will either be staying on that dosage or asking to re-adjust accordingly.

I am giddy with the prospect of feeling GOOD again. Maybe even great. It's been far too long.

At least I know ... the game is on!

MYTHBUSTERS

DISCLAIMER: The chaos performed here in the Perlman Household is done by trained professionals, with years and years of experience. Do NOT try this at home.

Myth #1:

If the newly re-ordered palette of Trex for your deck is delivered to your house early Monday morning and your builder comes in the late morning to rip out half your deck and re-install the new Trex, the dye lot on the new Trex will match the dye lot of at least half of the old Trex.

MYTH BUSTED!

Not surprisingly, the dye lot of the new Trex delivered is still a slightly different shade than both of the previous palettes of Trex. Now we have three different colors of Trex sitting in our driveway.


Myth #2:

When the mold and wet wood from leak in your basement is removed, the pungent smell should begin to dissipate.

MYTH BUSTED!

Not only is the smell still there, but we now have additional stinky smells in the mix ... including the sanding and painting of the steel beams near the leak and the sealing of a crack in the concrete.


Myth #3:

When the brick and siding are removed from your house in order to get to the basement to remove the mold and wet wood, the weather person who predicted sunny weather for the rest of the week while you wait for the hole in your house to be fixed, will be right.

MYTH BUSTED and MURPHY'S LAW CONFIRMED!

Not only will the weatherman be wrong and it will rain all night long, but the wind will also be blowing IN the direction of the large hole ... and the half-assed job to cover the hole may not be good enough to keep the water out.


Myth #4:

When receiving an email from the teacher asking you to be the room parent, it is most likely because your reputation preceded you.

MYTH BUSTED!

You were actually the ONLY one to answer the teacher's email that she blind copied and sent out to eight other parents. Jackass.


Stay tuned for next week's episode where we test out whether or not two girls can keep the spacers in their mouth for required two weeks before they get their palate expander's on. Or whether the Land Rover dashboard warning lights will continue to go off at the most inopportune time.

When It Rains, It Pours ...

... and sometimes even leaks.

We have a smell in the basement. Not one of the typical new basement, new carpet, new paint smells. Rather a different kind of smell that has been there since we've moved in, though has gotten progressively worse over the past eight weeks. It's a smell Matt barely acknowledges, but one that singes my nose hairs every single time I go into the one unfinished room in our house.

I've asked everyone who walks down the street to come in and help me identify the smell. To figure out just where it's coming from. To give me ideas on how to rid it from our home.

The contractors came through and told me that it's just a concrete smell. Or maybe it's the insulation. Their suggestion? Try bleaching it. So four weeks ago we took everything out of the room and spent almost an entire night scrubbing and bleaching the floor. Then the next morning after the concrete was dry, we put an acid wash on the floor and followed up by painting it gray.

All. For. Nothing.

After much insistence, three more people were sent out by the builder to pinpoint the smell., Through deductive reasoning, with absolutely nothing in the room, they determined that it must be the insulation. Four days later the insulation people came to take out the insulation ... only to discover that the smell was still there.

Now I was getting angry.

I called the builder's office again and demanded somebody else come out. Because while I appreciated their confirmation that there IS a smell that ISN'T just concrete or insulation, nobody was pinpointing the cause. And. It. Was. Still. There.

A week ago the warranty manager, who has been dealing with new construction for thirty-plus years, came to the house to identify the smell. In less than ten minutes he discovered that the smell is none other than ... MOLD! Apparently we have a leak in the front of the house that was caused from water build up behind the brick and siding. Awesome! The water managed to slowly move its way down into the basement, thus soaking the wood, rusting a steel piston, and stinking up my room like nobody's business.

While I should be upset that there's a leak, in my brand new house, I'm not. Because after almost eight weeks, the warranty manager (who is totally my new BFF, thus ousting my previous BFF from the DMV) discovered where the smell was coming from and is taking immediate action to have it fixed! Immediate action being ten days later ...

Of course when it rains it pours here ... because nobody does chaos like the Perlman's do chaos.

So on top of the mold and the leak and insane coordination I've had to do with the builder's peeps traipsing in and out of my basement over the past month, we are also in the process of putting a large deck out back. A big, beautiful deck that has taken weeks to design ... to pick out colors and materials ... and to wait for the HOA to approve.

And while everything was going swimmingly the first few days with the framing, wouldn't you know that 3/4 of the way through laying the Trex decking, I noticed something wrong. The dye lots on the two Trex packages were different. Same color ... but a slightly different shade of the same color. And it's only noticeable from one side of the deck... which wasn't the side the contractor was on. Sh*t.

We called the place where the contractor ordered the Trex. And they sent someone out immediately. Sure enough, same color. Different dye lot. Which I was assured almost never happens. Unless you're me.

The next step was for the Trex sales representative to come to my home, take a look at it, and make it right. Which he thankfully did first thing this morning, and agreed to replace it free of charge. So now we have to re-order an entire palette of new Trex in order to match one side of the deck or the other. Rip out the 50 boards of the wrong color. And then continue on ...

To add the cherry on top, I received an email yesterday morning from Riley's teacher. An email asking if I would be the room parent in her class. Not knowing if it was sent just to me or a bevy of other parents, I waited an hour or two before I responded back to her, saying something to the effect of, "sure, if nobody else wants to do it, count me in". Which, two hours later she emailed back saying, "yes, YOU are the one I want to be the room parent".

Crickets ... crickets ...

See, when I filled out the parent volunteer form a few weeks ago, I was the 23rd or 24th parent (out of 25) to put my name on the list. I looked through and noticed that almost everyone checked all the boxes on the list stating that they'd do anything to help in the class ... including be a room parent. By the time I added my name, I actually laughed out loud and stated under my breath that there was no way I'd even be called for anything on the list.

I'll admit that I am really excited to do it this year as last year I was in Sheridan's class every week and never got a chance to focus on Riley. I just find it very interesting that the new mom in the class, the one at the very end of the volunteer list was chosen. The joke seemed to be on me.

Actually, aren't all the jokes these days on me?

Don't answer that ...

Even I, er The Tooth Fairy, Occasionally Make Mistakes ...

While the Tooth Fairy has been known to be a tad harsh when need be ... she normally isn't known for being forgetful.

Little did I know how upset (bummed was her exact word) my munchkin would be when she forgot to make an appearance the other night. I had to remind her that it WAS the fairy's first time coming here, and since she wrote a note and stuck it IN the envelope, rather than writing her note ON the envelope, she probably didn't get the memo. I assured her that the tooth fairy never misses two days in a row.

But really? I'm just giddy that she absolutely and completely still believes ... especially after the book she read almost two years ago. Remember that nonsense?

Getting that extra dollar didn't hurt either ...

A Short Sentence ...

... actually 100 of them. With the six year old needing 4 pieces of paper to finish hers.

Think it'll serve as a reminder for next time we go to a restaurant and they attempt to throw a COLOSSAL fit over ... crayons?

I may just start packing paper and pencils to begin their next 'sentence' in the car ...

You CAN Fight City Hall ...

... and WIN!

It wasn't easy. It caused many a gray hair. But knowing that I was ready to fight an important cause, made every single minute worth it.

It all started when the bus transportation route was published the week prior to the start of school. Our neighborhood bus stop was scheduled to pick up the kids at the entrance to our development. And I (along with all the neighbors) was none too pleased.

So I made my first call. To the Loudoun County Public School Transportation office. Where a lovely woman explained the bevy of reasons why the bus stop was located where it was, and why, under no circumstances, would a school bus be allowed to come into a development still under construction.

The first day of school was chaotic. While pushing Grady in his stroller, I walked the girls smack dab in the middle of the street to the bus stop with the neighbors. We weaved around the construction vehicles, the dumpsters, the mounds of dirt. With no sidewalks in sight, we waited in the middle of the street for the bus. We all complained.

It didn't take but one day to realize that I needed to start drafting my appeal letter to the Director of Transportation. To show him that our bus stop was inappropriately placed. To offer a perfectly acceptable alternative. I took pictures. I spoke with the neighbors. And everyone who had kids riding the bus in our neighborhood signed my letter ... that I HAND delivered two days later to both the Director and Supervisor of Transportation.

Of course, my letter was forwarded to an underling. To a person who took her time to review our appeal. And who ultimately didn't feel that our bus stop had as many issues as we did.

Not one to give in that easily, I pressed on. Challenging her denial and forcing her to look into another alternative as there was already a bus coming into our neighborhood.

Instead, she not only ended up denying our bus stop change, but additionally moved the special needs bus stop as well.

Now. I. Was. Mad. I gave it some thought, and later that night formulated an email that I quickly shot off to every single member of the Loudoun County School Board. Along with a damning video. And oodles of photos.

In less than an hour, I received two emails from School Board Members, one of whom forwarded on my email to fifteen or so more people, including the Superintendent's office. The other member walked me through the appeals process, gave me contact names at the Superintendent's office of people with whom I should meet, and helped me with the next steps should my next appeal hit roadblocks.

Thankfully I didn't need to take additional action because when I went to pick the girls up from bus stop the next day, who should be there to greet the parents, but the Director and Supervisor of the County Transportation Office. The original people with whom I hand delivered my appeal letter two weeks prior.

Crap managed to roll downhill ...

The two of them were surprised at what they saw. They talked with several parents. They walked our routes home. But more importantly, they showed up the next morning to watch the bus pick up. To see first hand what I wrote in my letter. To verify that I wasn't crying wolf.

That was last Tuesday.

Below is what my girls came home waving in their hands three days later.

Pure Justice

Never underestimate the power of persuasion ... or Mrs. Perlman's VERY large mouth.

Next fight. Putting in a Stop Sign near our new bus stop. I'll keep you posted ...

On Hugging Your Kids ...

Of all the times to feel included, there is one club that we all never hope to join. It's a place where sadly, my sweet friend Anna, unwillingly entered last Thursday night.

When she lost her 12 year old son in the floods in Virginia.

I've never had a friend lose a child. There are no words. Nothing of comfort to say. No way to help make it better.

Like my other friends who knew her well, I am heartbroken.

I saw Anna just a few weeks ago when she came out to visit me and see the new house. We were both bummed that we didn't make it to the BlogHer conference in San Diego that very weekend, where we finally met the year prior in New York City. We went to lunch and laughed. Took self portraits and sent them to our friends. We made plans to get our families together...

There are so many things that I wanted to finally write about this week. The girls back to school nights. My screw up with Grady's preschool. The school bus debacle. But right now none of it seems to matter.

What does matter is that I'm now going to a funeral for a friend's young child next week. To offer support for her family. To grieve for a boy taken far too soon. To remember and to pray about how precious life is.

I am sickened. I am heartbroken. And I'm hugging my kids extra hard these days.

First Impressions ...

... were taken yesterday.

At the orthodontist!

Where, in less than one month, BOTH girls will be getting their palate expander's. And then ... gulp ... braces!

After the insanely expensive pediatric dental visit last June, I knew that we were working with a small window of time get the girls to an orthodontist to begin their first phase of treatment. I hadn't quite planned on doing both of them so early, but seeing the mess that is Sheridan's mouth and jaw, and knowing that their dental journeys will be over way before mine ever started, had me reconsidering. Throw in the fact that this orthodontist we found has unbelievable reviews, comes highly recommended, and is my next door neighbor's best friend doesn't hurt either!

His office is a well oiled machine. They have books, magazines, TV, video games, and computers available to keep the siblings and parents occupied. It's extremely organized with everybody adhering to their roles and keeping the hoards of people coming in/out moving in a steady flow. They even have a program to keep kids engaged in their orthodontic progress by offering incentives for wearing the office's t-shirt to appointments, getting good grades, proving they have good oral hygiene, and not losing appliances. It. Was. Awesome.

Within 1.5 hours the girls had x-rays and facial profiles completed, we met with the treatment coordinator, we met with the orthodontist, the girls had more pictures taken, they signed the treatment wall, we met with the financial coordinator, and were finally fit for spacers and had impressions taken. No complaining. No gagging. No reprimanding.

Overall, I like this orthodontist's approach to treatment. He believes in being minimally invasive. He doesn't like to pull teeth. And believe it or not, it was less than I expected to pay! Of course, there is the chance that we'll need to do a second phase of treatment. But it would be nominal in both cost and time considering we'll have paid a majority the first time around.

For the time being, the only metal I'll be investing in won't be on my ears, wrists, or neck ...

Make New Friends ... But Keep The Old

One is Silver and the other Gold ...

Which couldn't be truer here. I met these two lovely ladies way back in August, 2003 ... at our very first overseas post in Muscat, Oman. Three women in totally different stages of our lives. The newlywed, the working mom of a toddler, and mother of a six-month old who just stopped working for the first time in her life.

Connecting. Supporting. Building memories.

We've been there for each other through thick and thin. New babies and new countries. Failed pregnancies and unhappy jobs. The Embassy parties. The vacations. The three husbands doing hardship tours in Iraq and Cuba.

It's difficult to make friends when you get older. When you're no longer thrown into the Embassy community fishbowl. When you're as nomadic as we are. When you move into a house directly between two best friends and you so completely feel like the third wheel...

So I'm extra thankful that we stay in touch. And that we always try to meet up in DC when we know we're going to be in town at the same time. Which, since we left Oman six years ago, has happened twice. Once back in January, 2007.

And the other, last night.

Thanks ladies ... my cup is full for awhile.

Small trip down memory lane ...

March, 2004

November, 2004 ( I'm 8 months prego)

January, 2007

Visiting Alison in Budapest in May, 2006

Kathie in DC - Jan, 2009 (I'm 4 months prego)

It's The MOST Wonderful Time Of The Year ...

I'm not sure which one I'm more excited about.

This ...

my 3rd and 2nd graders. wow.

the girl brigade in our neighborhood.

Or THIS ...

It's a toss up.

Nothing Like A Last Minute Phone Call ...

Today the girls had their student orientation at their respective elementary schools. Their two different elementary schools. Which has really bummed me out for the past several months.

See, when I came here in April for our pre-construction walk through, I stopped by the school and picked up the registration packets. Unfortunately the secretary told me then that the kindergarten through second grade classes were already near capacity for the fall, and there was a high probability that Sheridan wouldn't make it in.

Sadly, when we finally closed on our house last month, and drove straight to the school to register the girls, the bad news was confirmed. Sheridan was wait listed and would be attending the overflow elementary school four miles away. At that time, we were given the option to keep Riley enrolled at our local elementary school, or send her with Sheridan. It was a tough choice to split them up, but with the chance that Sheridan would move over to our local school sometime during the year, moving Riley over could prove problematic if the third grade classes were filled and then there wasn't room for her.

More. Tough. Decisions.

So I was a "Bitter Betty" at Riley's school today. Her big, beautiful, modern elementary school that I teared up in the minute I walked through the double doors.

We stopped in the front office, where I inquired about Sheridan's position on the wait list and were told that they don't have any answers. Sure, I could call them later in the day. But they had no guarantees this year. Or worse yet, next. I walked out and cried.

After Riley's orientation we then drove over to Sheridan's school where my inner bitchiness bitterness was starting to get the best of me. Again, I couldn't contain my tears as we walked through this older, well established school. Sure, it was fine ... I just couldn't wrap my head around sending Sheridan here. Alone. When all of her new friends and neighbors were going down the street.

We unpacked all of her school supplies. I told her teacher. I explained our situation and she empathized. She understood. I cried.

And after a long day of orientations, we left the school, hopped in the car, and headed to where we always do when I need a pick-me-up. Starbucks... where amazing things always seem to happen.

As I was walking in to grab another free drink, my cell phone rang. The woman on the other end was none other than the secretary at the local elementary school. Telling me that she can't believe it ... but she has a spot available for Sheridan and wanted to know if I wanted it.

Do I want it?

I screamed. I cried. I broke out in my best Elaine Benes inspired jig in the middle of the parking lot, and totally embarrassed the girls.

After I grabbed that free drink ... priorities ... we drove back to the overflow school and picked up the school supplies we JUST dropped off twenty minutes prior.

Now off to buy the school supplies for the new school, because you KNOW they had to be different than overflow.

And then to submit my letter to the school board requesting they change the bus stop. Because there's never a dull moment here ...

Never Say Never

Today marks exactly one month that we've owned our new home. One amazingly expensive month of crapping out $1000 bills like they were growing on our non-existent money trees.

Though as the boxes become fewer and the dust begins to settle, we are able to look around our new house and basque in the culmination of the adventures and sacrifices we've made for this nomadic lifestyle.

As a Foreign Service Family, we have the opportunity to lead one exciting life. Raising our kids overseas. Traveling to places that they will be reading about in history books. Building relationships that will last a lifetime.

We feel very blessed.

I have spent many months thinking about my experiences over the last year. Trying to find a way to articulate the challenges, as well as, the tribulations of our year apart. A recap of sorts where I tie it all up with a pretty little bow.

But the reality is ... my words fail me.

When your spouse leaves on an unaccompanied tour you go into it with the Guerrilla Mindset, "Get in. Do your tour. And get out."

By the first R&R you're angrily saying, "Never again".

As you hit the half-way point. The holiday season. Your second R&R you lighten up a bit and admit that, "You can suck it up for a year."

And when you see each other on your final R&R, with less than three months to go, the tears are few and the excitement high. You realize that, dare I say it, "It wasn't as bad as you anticipated."


If I've learned anything at all in my years as a Foreign Service spouse, there are no absolutes. And what you once said you'd NEVER do ... you find yourself doing not once, but twice.

As many of you know, Matthew's job here in Washington D.C. is a one-year tour.

After thoughtful deliberation, starting way back at the beginning of this year, we have made the decision for Matt to do one more unaccompanied tour.

Next summer, Matt will be heading out once again to serve as of the Regional Security Officers in Afghanistan.

And the kids and I will be staying here. Remaining here in our new house. With our support system already in place.

Lest people criticize, I understand this is not for everybody. We are making a calculated investment for our future, and what it means to Matt career, as well as our financial security. It's not that he has a compelling desire to be separated from his family. It's obviously a gamble. But, we're optimistic that it's going to pay off down the road.

We have decided to refrain from telling the kids for awhile due to their inability to comprehend time. For now we'll just enjoy the year. And the moments we share together while making plans for our future...

And Starbucks Saves The Day ...

Well apparently in order to title and register your car in Virginia you need to show proof of residency. Which, of COURSE I knew. And remembered. Last night. Though it CLEARLY did not help me today, when I rushed out of the house to the DMV.

So there I was. Twenty minutes away from home. Paperwork in hand. Feeling oh so pretty in wrinkled clothes with my hair looking like birds could build beautiful nests in its mess. Ready to brave the bureaucracy.

Within two minutes of walking in the door I was at a window. Smiling. Hoping. Praying that the paperwork would speak for itself.

Which it didn't. Because of course, I wrote the wrong lien holder's address on the form and needed to re-fill it out. Thankfully the DMV was empty and the lady let me fill out the paperwork at her window.

But when my California driver's license didn't show proof of Virginia state residency, and the blank stare on my face trying to hide my stupidity didn't send me packing, I did what any other self-respecting woman on the verge would do.

I pulled out the only piece of mail I had on me. My trusty, "Free drink because you spend way too much time and money in Starbucks" card. That shows ... none other than my change of address.

Proof, that I do in fact, now live in Virginia.

Would you believe that the woman at the DMV, my new BFF, actually accepted it?

Hallelujah!!

Within ten minutes my car was now titled and registered in Virginia. Fees paid. License plates distributed. I was out the door. And onto Starbucks ... where my caffeine habit has proved itself beyond worthy ...

Would you have expected anything different?


In other news ...

* Screw the sprinklers! We're moving onto the big guns. Like irrigation systems. Apparently there IS a limit on how many times a day I can stand to move the sprinklers around the yard ... eight is more than enough!

* The girls got their bus schedules for school and I'm less than thrilled. I was already reeling that Sheridan didn't get into the same school as Riley this year due to the district's poor planning on teacher / student ratios and under estimated boom of housing sales in this county. But now I have to deal with an inappropriately placed bus stop and two completely different pick-up times. I've already made the phone call to the district. Next up? My letter to the school board ... with every single neighbor ready to sign ...

* We have been bogged down in organizing hell. Sure the boxes are all unpacked and everything is put in the right room ... but holy heck have we spent WAY too much time trying to put it all in away. And searching for curtains. And searching for curtains. And did I mention that we're still searching for curtains?

* We survived the earthquake. I grew up in Northern California. I went to school at Northridge. Enough said?

* Our backyard deck is getting built in less than 3 weeks.

* The storage room in our basement is getting dry-walled in a few weeks.

* We have seen a bevy of friends over the past week ... including dear friends from Israel, Matt's work friends from Iraq whose families have quickly become our newest confidantes, a 6 year old birthday dinner, a ladies luncheon with fun friends, and even a house guest over the weekend! Much needed fun ... and laughing ... and relaxing indeed.

* The girls start school next Monday. Matt starts work on Monday as well.

* Can you tell I'm looking forward to Monday?


Until then ... can someone please remind me where we planted our money tree?

Not the original one. I obviously have a few due to my ... habit. *ahem*

Home Sweet Home ... FINALLY

So as you can see, I've been taking a bit of a break. Turns out, home ownership keeps you rather busy. Especially when you now have a yard to maintain. And new sod, which requires a ridiculous amount of TLC.

Of course when your new sod dies a few days before you move into your new home due to an extreme heat wave, you now have extra yard work to do and higher water bills to pay as you spend every waking minute trying to bring your coarse brown grass back to luscious green.

You then make at least fifty-two trips to Home Depot and Lowe's on your quest to find THE perfect sprinkler heads for your postage stamp sized front and back lawn, in addition to all the other "stuff" you needed ... like hoses, light bulbs, wall anchors, picture hooks, plants, potting soil, dimmer switches, power tools, drill bits, mini blinds, spackle, and many, many, many more items that I've both purchased AND returned over the past several weeks.

This move has consumed us me.

At some point I may write about our closing. The never-ending trips to Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Wal-Mart, and Costco. Our four different movers ... with our stuff from California, from Belgium, from Maryland, from Iraq. I'd tell you about all the things that were broken. Or stolen. Or gross and moldy and faded after eight years in storage. I'd complain about the never ending solicitors. The bugs. The waiting around every single day for something to be delivered or installed or serviced. I may even hint at having a huge argument with the contractor on the day they came to replace our dead sod. Let's just say that like the TV show Cheers, 'everybody knows my name.'

I'd also kvell about our neighborhood. Our neighbors, who ALL have kids around our kids ages. Instant friends and bike riding buddies and never ending basements to play in.

But right now, I'm done. We're finally catching our breath as we begin to make this house a home. And for the first time in almost three weeks we are able to lift our heads up and get out of the house for more than just a Target run.

I sent out an email with our new address. If you didn't get it or you want it, send me an email. If you emailed us over the past few weeks and I didn't respond. Please forgive me and know that I'll try to get back to you. Eventually.

Though it will most likely be after we head to Home Depot one more time. I just know we'll pick up the right sprinkler head one of these days. Until we do, pray for rain.