Yesterday I went to Target.  While wheeling my children through the aisles I picked up a can opener and a bread knife.  Last Saturday I purchased a mixer and cookie sheets.  On my previous trip I bought small cups and bowls, an immersion blender, washcloths, a pizza wheel, mixing bowls, a pizza pan, and clippers.

I already own all of these things.  Due to our present circumstances, however, they're halfway across the world, and I won't be seeing them anytime soon.  In the meantime, I still have three children and a husband to feed and take care of.  And so every time I go to Target, I pick up a few more things that I already own.

We have now been evacuated for over a month, and living in Oakwood for just over three weeks.  The initial trauma of the evacuation is over; we're in no danger, we have a safe place of our own, and we've even established routines.  The immediate dislocation of evacuation is finished.

But now comes, in some way, the harder part.  This is the part where we wait, and while we wait we set up a semi-permanent, but ready to go with three days' notice, lifestyle.  Every time I think about buying another piece of household equipment, I wonder if I really need it.  Could I get along for the next few weeks without a garlic press?  Probably.  How about the next few months?  It would be more annoying.  But which do I have in store - weeks or months?  Which is more important - money or sanity?

After traveling between Egypt and the US several times, I feel like I've developed a split reality - third world and first world - that I can switch between in the blink of an eye.  Sitting in the Cairo airport, waiting to board a plane, I'm in a third world country.  But when I step onto that Lufthansa plane with its pleasant German flight attendants, I'm back in the first.  No problem, no dislocation.

I find the same developing now - evacuee and typical American mother.  I take my children to the library and they agonize over which books to take home.  We go to Costco and eat samples of crab dip.  But then I think of what we were doing just over a month ago - riding a felucca on the Nile.  I look at the emerging flowers and anticipate spring and warmer temperatures.  But will I be here for spring?  Or just skip it entirely and head back to Egyptian summer?

Who knows?  At this point, nobody.  And so life continues - the first world American one.  For now, anyway.

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

When I was pregnant with Edwin, and a fellow mother found out that he was a boy, I almost always heard some comment to the effect that 'boys are just different.'  I wasn't sure what that mean, as nobody was every able to explain themselves to any satisfaction.

Now, after I have a boy, I understand.  A few days ago, the girls came to me, giggling.  They had gotten the window crayons, and used them for 'lip polish.'  "Now we're beautiful, because we're princesses," Kathleen told me.

Edwin has a stick.  He eats lunch with it.

It's the first thing he finds in the morning.

And even when he's cooking with Sophia, it's with the stick by his side. 

 

Teddy Roosevelt would be proud.

Every Day Counts

This morning, I woke up next to Brandon.  Instead of sitting on a plane crossing the Atlantic, he was next to me.

Approval from M has not come yet, and we were told not to look for it until mid-week, which means that we have another week with Brandon before he has to return to Cairo.  The situation there is still unstable, and so my secret hope and prayer is that we will have longer than just one week.

Every day, however, is borrowed time and so we pretend that every day is a normal one.  We get up, get ready for the day, and send Brandon off to work so he can return after everyone is in bed.  It's not the life I prefer, but I'll take any time with him here that I can get.  And I thank my Heavenly Father for every day I have.

Lunchtime conversation

Kathleen, praying: "And please bless everyone in the world that they can evacuate well, and get visas."

Sophia: "You didn't bless us!!  Kathleen, you didn't bless us!!!"

Kathleen: "But we already have visas."

Sophia: silence

Time to pack... again

A few weeks ago, when Brandon called to tell me he was coming to the US, he cautioned me that he might be sent back to Cairo before the evacuation was lifted.  Which meant that I would be left here with the children.  I waved it off, delighted to be seeing him, if only for a month.

I didn't even get that month.  He received a call from his boss today, telling him that they needed him back in the Consular section.  If all is approved by M, then he'll be boarding a plane for Cairo on Sunday, three weeks to the day since he came to the US.  And I'll be alone, again, for who knows how long.

I understand that we signed up for this possibility when Brandon joined the Foreign Service.  I don't like it.  But I know that sometimes these things do happen.  But he didn't necessarily need to leave yet - two people from his section are returning.  Four people are in DC.  Two people from his section are married with small children.  Two people are single.

Guess who they are sending back?  And to add insult to injury, the two management who decided to send the two married people are... you guessed it - two single people.

I was going to write a post yesterday commemorating three weeks of being evacuated.  I was going to write how life has settled down to something really approaching normal; we have a daily schedule, we have parks we like to visit, I have a library card, I've even started running in the morning again.

But now, my life has been blown apart again.  I'm getting tired of this.

#2

Being back in the US has given me the opportunity to enjoy some of the things I have missed.  Of my top five favorite things in the US, parks are number two.

Update

Today, I took a walk with the children.  We left our apartment complex and walked down the street, and after a few blocks we found a park.  It was situated next to a creek and in the middle of trees.  Kathleen found a friend to play with, and Edwin and Sophia enjoyed the swings.  We all came home, happy and ready for the pot pies I had put in the oven before our outing.

After such a nice, unexpected afternoon, I can catch everyone up on the last week.

Kathleen, Sophia, Edwin and I landed at my parent's house on Wednesday evening.  Thursday I unpacked, and that night my sister came with her three children to spend the weekend with my parents and attend the temple.

Friday morning, I got a call from Brandon.  He had been asked by his boss if he would like to leave, and he told him yes.  There would be a flight on Saturday, and he would most likely be in DC Sunday night.

Friday afternoon, I called corporate-stay apartments, and found an apartment in Chevy Chase to rent.  I also called a car-finding service, and had the owner start looking for a car that we could take to DC.  I called my aunt, and asked if she could shelter us all on Sunday night before we moved into our apartment on Monday.

Saturday I received and email from the car service about a Honda Pilot he had found for another client, but the client had backed out.  I talked with my parents for a few minutes, and then called Mr. Berger to tell him that we would take the car.  We wouldn't be able to complete the transaction until Monday as I didn't have a North Carolina driver's license to register the car in state.  So I called my aunt and cancelled our Sunday evening stay.

While thinking about our apartment, I considered the location, and contacted a few more companies about housing in Arlington.

Sunday we went to church, and Sunday night I transferred money to my checking account while purchasing car insurance.  I also read the driver's handbook to prepare for my license exam.  Brandon made it to DC Sunday night, and checked into a hotel until we could come up Tuesday morning.

Monday morning I stood outside the DMV, waiting in line to take my exam, which I passed.  I came home to arrange a new apartment, at Oakwood Falls Church, and kiss my security deposit goodbye for the previous apartment.  Then I went shopping at Target for a car seat for Kathleen and Costco for a GPS.  After visiting my dad's office to say hello and goodbye, I packed, again.  That evening, I drove with my father to pick up my 2007 black Honda Pilot and hand over the largest check I've ever made out in my life.

Brandon trolled the halls of Main State, looking for a job.  He was told of a position as staff aide in the front office of NEA/SCA, and accepted it.  Baaaaaaaaaad idea.

Tuesday morning I finished packing and stuffed everything into my new car, and left for Virginia.  We checked into our apartment, exploded our suitcases, and ordered pizza with a gift card sent by an amazingly kind FS/LDS friend.  Brandon came 'home' around five-thirty, the earliest he's made it all week.

Wednesday, instead of unpacking, I read a book while the suitcases continued vomiting and the girls played.  We attended a session about SEA payments, and I turned the house into more of a disaster looking for one missing boarding pass (out of a total fourteen).  I still haven't found it.  That evening we went to my cousin's house for dinner.

Thursday I pulled enough together to rearrange the furniture, the first step to making this tiny shoebox with a tinier kitchen into 'home' for an unspecified amount of time.  When Edwin was asleep, I cleaned up.  Brandon got home at eight thirty.

Today, almost all of the suitcases are packed up and the apartment mostly clean.  Mubarak stepped down this morning, and Kathleen told me should would dream about it during her nap.  Brandon still isn't home, and won't be for another half hour.  But the children are in bed, the house is quiet, and at least Brandon is coming home to an apartment in America and not Cairo.  At least for now.

What next?

Dirty dishes are in my sink, waiting.  My clothes sit in my suitcase, in the same hastily-packed mess that they have been in since Tuesday morning.  A bag of trash sits by my door, and scraps of receipts, papers, credit cards, crayons, and passports are strewn across the desk that is mine for the next... two months?  four?  Who knows?

And I can't tear myself away from my computer, checking every few minutes to see what the BBC has updated on their website.

I watched Mubarak's speech this afternoon, after reading predictions that he would be stepping down.  As the children played with their toys, I saw the crowd's angry reaction to Mubarak's reaffirmation that he wasn't leaving.  Sophia asked me to turn the TV off, and I tried to explain to her that this was about Egypt, where we live.  Or lived.  She shrugged her shoulders, and went back to Just So Stories.


I turn to the computer, and see Egypt, and worry about what will happen next.  I look out my window, and see Oakwood's sparkling blue pool.  I read the news, and wonder if I'll ever go back.  I get in my car, and drive to Target, just like any other resident of Falls Church, carrying my secret of Egypt inside, somewhere that only I can see and feel.

The girls view this move as just one more in a long line of moves, and Edwin has become my personal leech.  Only once has anyone asked to go back to Cairo, and only when Sophia was particularly upset about eating her lunch.  I have started to return to the rhythm of being an American in America again, but for how long?

My heart goes out to those who are in Cairo tonight.  Be safe.

February 1

12:30 AM

            We’re in Athens, and safely installed in the very nice, very close Sofitel.  Whoever made the hotel arrangements, may they be blessed into perpetuity.  This is the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, with a down bed, down comforter, and down pillows.  We’ve only got one bed, so I’m going to make a pallet on the floor for the girls.  They’re happy to have a ‘sleeping bag,’ and I’m happy to not be kicked.  Edwin has a baby crib, the most awkward, enormous one I’ve ever seen.  Europeans need to look into Pack’n Plays.  But I am happy that he has a bed, too, that isn’t mine.

            After the bus came at the airport, everyone had to show the one (!!!!!!) man their exit stamps and give him their ‘boarding passes,’ before getting on the bus.  We waited for half an hour for everyone to board before then being shuffled onto an entirely different bus.  We drove around for awhile, and then finally found our plane – a very tired looking Lotus Air plane, but one with wings, and engine, and the capability to get us out of Cairo.

            We were able to get seats behind the R, and although we were four people, we crammed into three seats as nobody wanted to leave me.  We waited for another half hour for a busload to complete the plane and then waited another hour to have a spot to take off.  When we finally were in the air, the passengers broke into spontaneous applause, and again when dinner was announced.

            The ride was pretty calm, and I was able to get Edwin to sleep.  Unfortunately, dinner came and he woke up and screamed for at least half an hour before I could get him to calm down.  Nobody ate their dinner, and I never had the opportunity to touch it, so we would have been better to have not bothered with it.

            We had a pair of college students behind us when another baby had been screaming disconsolately earlier, and I overheard their conversation to the effect that somebody should do something about that screaming baby.  Feeling for the mother, I turned around and asked them to stop talking like that.

            “We’ve all had a very long day that started early this morning, we have just been evacuated from our homes, and we don’t know when, if ever we will be coming back.  That mother is trying to do everything she can to help her baby calm down, but sometimes there’s nothing mothers can do.  Trust me, it’s much more annoying to her than it is to you.”

            Stunned silence followed, and I went back to calming the children down.  I’m not one to dress down strangers, but it had been a long day and I’ve been in that situation and known that people were heartily annoyed.  But I felt that I should defend her because it could have just as well been me.

            And, it was me not much longer, and I’m sure those girls felt the karma coming right around again.

            We landed in Athens around 9, and were greeted by the ambassador on our way inside.  I saw a photographer, and so tried my best to look under control and oh so happy to be hauling three children alone to another country.  When we were ushered inside (I think we were the first people), and very, very nice lady showed me to a room equipped with toys, cookies, games, and a movie for the children.  She gave me a bottle for Edwin and showed me where to change his diaper.  I could have kissed her.  The girls happily sat down to play, and I took Ewin out, strapped on again, to find out what to do next.

            I was directed, by another incredibly helpful mission member, to a visa table for our dip passports, and he found me a pen and some forms to fill out so we could enter Greece officially.  After thirty minutes of visas, I got in line for travel arrangements.  I made friends with the ladies around me, both from NAMRU with four and five children apiece.  We chatted and I rocked Edwin while we waited in line.  Edwin fell asleep and we continued chatting.

            After an hour and a half, I made my way to the front.  There were no flights out tomorrow, but there was a direct to JKF on Tuesday, February first.  I was happy to wait another day at the hotel to let everyone get some sleep and a few good meals before continuing on.

            After travel arrangements were finished, we had another bus to ride before one last line– passport control.  I thought that perhaps my shoulders wouldn’t last on more line, but thankfully there were up to the challenge, and blessedly, more wonderful, helpful, amazingly cheerful mission members were there to meet us at baggage.  May they also be blessed into perpetuity.

            They asked if we needed anything for Edwin, and I thought that perhaps formula would be nice, and Mr. Williams got on his phone with the CLO, and said that he would bring it up to our room later.  They helpfully wheeled our bags through customs, skipped past the waiting television crews, and trotted across the street to the Sofitel.

            We were led into a room with more wonderful, blessed Athens mission members who gave me a card to show that my hotel would be paid for, and sent me out into another line.  By this time, Edwin was screaming and crying non-stop and somebody took pity on me (or on everyone else’s ears) and took me on.  We were given room keys, times for breakfast, somebody to help with the bags, and shown personally shown upstairs.

            And so we’re here.  When Brandon told me that we would be helped by the mission in Athens and put up in a hotel, I had no idea of the amazing lengths everyone had gone to in order to help us out.  Everyone was cheerful, helpful, and kind.  I know that the last place they wanted to be that night (and all day) was at the Athens airport, and we were the first plane to land for the night.  I know that I’ve grumbled when Brandon has had to work later than normal, but he’s never had to do anything like the mission members did for us tonight.  They made our entry into Athens so very, very much better than our exit from Cairo was.  We left the world in chaos to find kind, helpful people and a feather bed at the end.

January 31

16:30

            We have finally made it through passport control and I believe that my shoulders are about to separate my from my body and fall off.  Edwin is strapped on my front and has been since we arrived at the airport three and a half hours ago.  My twenty-five pound backpack, filled with only the essentials – computer, movies, diapers, passports, cash, wallet, blankets, bottles, and Benadryl – is strapped to my back.  The weight of the baby and the backpack perfectly even each other out for my balance, but are no good for my shoulders.

            After leaving the commissary, we drove the back road by Carrefour before pulling onto the ring road.  Carrefour didn’t look burnt, but somebody confirmed that it was bare inside.  On the ring road were tanks every few miles, and outside the Mirage City Marriot were three or four.  I hadn’t realized that the tanks were so prolific.

After getting to the airport, we pulled into a special terminal at 1, and as we drove in and saw the crowds and crowds of people milling about, I thought that we had come to the wrong place.  There are not this many people in the Embassy community by a long shot, and there were a lot of older people.

            After we got off the bus, Brandon helped with the luggage, and we were herded into line next to the Risleys.  As soon as he was done, he had to run to help the other, overwhelmed, consular officers.  As he ran away to help, Kathleen started sobbing, ‘Daddy!  Daddy!  Give me a kiss and hug!!  Please!!!!’  He came back, gave us all kisses, and was gone.

            We stood in line for about twenty minutes, and as soon as it became readily apparent that nothing was going to happen for some time, everyone disrobed and pulled out lunches.  E had made sandwiches and sandwiches and was happy to share.  The girls were delighted to eat jelly and butter sandwiches followed up by chips and were happy as clams.  I was very grateful as I fed Edwin most of mine and the M&Ms she had also brought along.  

            Pretty soon everyone had found friends and the children played while the adults talked.  Rumors flew everywhere about destinations, airplanes, the government, water being cut off in Maadi, who was and wasn’t evacuating, and what had and hadn’t been looted and burned.  Around two, a very very harried woman came to find the people on her list and handed out boarding passes – slips of paper with numbers written on them.

            I saw J and the J.  There was a man with his four year-old son who was happy to share his toys with Kathleen and Sophia, and I passed the time easily with everyone else, chatting.  I am very grateful that we are doing this in January instead of July.  I imagine, however, that the protests wouldn’t have happened in July anyway; it’s just too hot in July to do anything but survive the heat.

            Around 2:45, Kathleen announced that she had to use the bathroom.  Another lady behind us in line handed us toilet paper and we frog-marched off to the bathroom, which thankfully was mostly clean.  It stank, of course, and Kathleen pitched a fit, but I made her and Sophia use the bathroom, not knowing when next we could.  Right when I was having my turn, Brandon came rushing in to find us.  Our name had been called, and we needed to go.  So, I rushed out with him, figuring I would find a bathroom somewhere, sometime.

            The R helped us haul our luggage up front where we filled out departure cards (of all times!  What were they going to do with them?), got checked off the list, hauled our bags inside… and got into another line. 

            After twenty minutes of no movement, we put everything down again, and got to know our new neighbors in line.  We had become separated from the R, and so a nice family with five older children helped move the bags when the line started moving forty-five minutes later.  The line slowly snaked around as everyone put their bags through the one scanner (!!!!!!!) and walked through the one metal detector (!!!!!!!!) that nobody cared a fig about as it beeped for every single person going through. 

            And then we lined up again.  We found the R in line and they watched the bags while I sat with the girls.  We made more friends, and talked to some tourists who had to spend the night sleeping in their tour bus in the Citadel on Friday.  They had been able to get on the flight, but had signed a note saying that they had to pay the government back for the flights.  The paper didn’t say how much that would be, however, but they were happy to pay whatever it took.  They had tried to get commercial flights out, but there were absolutely none available.   Some people had spent two days at the airport waiting for flights and still couldn’t get out.

            Finally the line started slowly, slowly, slowly moving through the one (!!!!!!!) passport control booth.  After a long while, one other booth was opened and my shoulders almost gave out.  We’re through now, however, and waiting for… something.  Evidently we’re to take a bus to the plane, so who knows when they’ll decide when we can go.  There is a lady with a baby traveling by herself who came on a dip, but is leaving on her tourist and they’re making a stink about no entrance stamps so of course she can’t have an exit stamp.  I called Brandon, and he says he’ll find out how to help.  Hopefully she can get out on this flight, because who knows when the next one will go.