Post Script

For all of you who were wondering, Brandon eventually made it to Cairo. He just made it at 2:30 AM Monday instead of 12:45 PM Sunday, which made for 38 1/2 hours of transit time over three days.

So it's not surprising that he might have gotten to work a little late the next day.

And just so you know that Brandon's experience wasn't unusual, I would like to pass on some statistics I found on a flight-tracking website about Turkish Airlines flight number 2. It got 0 out of 5 stars for timeliness (which means that it has on-time performance characteristics better than 0% of all other flights on the site's database). It was on time 12% of the time, late 1%, very late 9%, and excessively late 75% of the time. It was, on average, delayed 99 minutes, with the latest ever being 330 minutes (5 1/2 hours).

To repeat: if you have any desire to get where you're going on the day you intend to, don't fly Turkish Airlines. Get a horse; they're more reliable.

There has got to be an easier way

Twas the day after Christmas and no one (well, Kathleen just got up to go to the bathroom) was stirring and Brandon was... at the airport. Again. On his flight out to come and see us, Brandon got delayed out of Istanbul which got him into New York just in time to miss his flight (not on Turkish airlines) which then necessitated cancellation of one ticket and a quick purchase of another to get him to Raleigh three hours later and almost ruining a surprise getaway I had planned.

So today I dropped him off at the airport with a kiss and a hope that he would be able to get to Cairo with no hitches. Silly me. His flight out of Raleigh was delayed, but got him there in plenty of time to... wait. And wait. And wait. Supposedly his 11 1/2 hour flight was to leave at 4:15, and last time I checked the status Turkish Airline hadn't even bothered to post a wild guess about when the airplane might even think of taking off. Which means that Brandon will miss his 1-hour connection in Istanbul and get to arrive in Cairo 10 hours later than expected. Just in time to get up and go to work with a 7-hour time difference in full force. Oh, and he can't sleep on planes.

So, just in case you had any thought of flying Turkish Airlines, don't. It's not worth any cost savings. Walking might just be faster.

Better Late than Never

Despite the late date of this posting, Edwin did arrive on time on Tuesday, the 15th. Lately I have been busy, so this is from my family's blog, pictures and text courtesy of my father.

George Edwin Sherwood, come on down!!

So, with Brandon safely in town, it was time for the reason that they were all here - to evict the new kid! The Labor & Delivery nurses were grateful for the two boxes of hot Krispy Kremes that Ashley and Brandon picked up early on Tuesday morning before they were called in.

Everything went smoothly; Dr. Zimmerman's epidural worked well, and went in just about when the contractions were getting, um, uncomfortable, as we doctors like to say. After that, it wasn't long before Ashley pushed twice, and out popped a nice, mostly bald, surprised looking kid!


The whole transition didn't seem like that good an idea, considering the treatment to which he was immediately subjected.


Ashley and Brandon were able to immediately confirm that yes, Brandon was the father, as evidenced by the water skis on the end of Edwin's legs.


Ashley confessed to feeling better after this one than the previous two.


Theresa McKee, an old nurse friend on Labor & Delivery kindly attended the labor and delivery, and compared notes about living in Turkey with Ashley and Brandon during the process.


Of course, there are priorities in life, and Ashley had food ordered within a very short time.


Meanwhile, Grandma was home wrestling The Girleens, and couldn't make it over to the hospital until the next day, when she was able to meet her newest grandchild, who didn't seem that impressed.


Ashley and Edwin were doing well enough that they were released a little more than a day after the arrival. By then, the sisters had been fed, bathed, read to, and put in bed, but were eager to meet their new brother when he arrived at home.




We are most thankful for Ashley's safe delivery and Edwin's safe arrival. So far, he's been a calm little guy, doing the things that guys his age do: eat, sleep, and go through diapers.


We hope that you are doing well, and appreciate the prayers in his and Ashley's behalf.

A Recent Conversation between Kathleen and her Grandfather

While at the mall looking at a store:

Grandpa: Kathleen, what are they selling in that store?

Kathleen: (pauses, thinks) um, women!

We weren't sure whether she was referring to the mannequins or the women shopping.

Fact or Fiction?

Every parent has to make their own decision about how much to indulge in the Santa Claus story. Back before I even married and thought about having children, I decided that I would not tell any stories about Santa to my children. Brandon thinks that I am a killjoy, but my feelings on the matter are stronger than his, so the policy has theoretically stood.

The issue has really never come up until now because last Christmas Kathleen had just begun to think about speaking and hadn't really gotten around to having conversations with us. This year, however, the conversations have fully arrived and refuse to leave.

My first encounter with Santa Claus came while Kathleen and I were shopping for baby clothes. Kathleen saw something with Santa Claus on it, and she asked me who he was. "Who do you think he is?" I asked her. "The mailman," she emphatically replied. I then told her it was Santa Claus, and then got to hurriedly outline the parental policy about how Santa Claus was a pretend man who likes to bring presents to children.

After her first brush with Santa, Kathleen was excited to point out all of the examples of that pretend man, and even got to play with quite a few when we decorated for Christmas last week. She seemed perfectly capable to dealing with an imaginary man because, after all, everyone knows that mugs and dolls and pictures aren't real anyway, so how could Santa be real?

And then we went to the mall. While my mother and I were encouraging each other to greater heights of profligacy at Ann Taylor Loft, my father took Kathleen to see Santa Claus. She came back happy to have ridden all of the escalators and elevators in the mall with a reindeer hat perched on top of her head. I asked her about seeing Santa and she didn't have much to say. Which is about right for someone who is pretend.

This evening, however, she asked me where the real Santa Claus was.

"He's pretend," I told her, reinforcing the party line.

"What about the Santa at the mall?" she fired back.

"He's a man who's dressed up like Santa."

"What's his name?" she asked, knowing that if he was just a normal person he'd have a normal name just like everyone else.

"Well, I don't know," I lamely replied.

"Well then where's the real Santa?" she asked again.

After a few rounds of the same, I gave up. Perhaps, for the sake of my sanity, Santa Claus actually does exist. But he still doesn't bring the presents. Daddy does that part.

A Tale of Two Thanksgivings

Brandon and I spent this Thanksgiving separated, he in Cairo and the girls and I in North Carolina. In North Carolina, we enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving complete with a delicious meal, the company of my sister and her family, and beautiful fall weather. Nothing went wrong; the turkey was perfectly cooked, the potatoes perfectly mashed, and rolls fragrantly warm. The only incident that could even been barely considered and incident was Kathleen's refusal to eat her sweet potatoes. She ate them anyway after some 'coaxing.'

Brandon also had an enjoyable Thanksgiving. A family in the branch who lives half a block away invited him over for dinner and they enjoyed playing video games together, another turkey feast, and a movie to finish up the evening. Brandon and I had a nice chat before we ate and before he went to bed, due to the 7-hour time difference. He had just made it to bed when the phone rang.

Various FSOs take turn on 'duty,' being the first contact for people who are in distress, trouble, lost, or any other thing that various Americans abroad can conceive that they might need U.S. government intervention in. Just in case you had plans, stabbing people in other countries is still illegal and the government won't help you get out of that trouble. So is illegally importing cars.

This week, Brandon is enjoying his first spell as duty officer, which is why his phone rang at 11 p.m. Thanksgiving night. An AmCit (American Citizen) who had checked herself into a local hospital several days earlier had died. And Brandon was in charge of taking care of arrangements to contact her family. Unfortunately for Brandon, all contact numbers she provided were not correct, and by 2:30 that morning, he still hadn't found anybody to tell about her death.

And so instead of going to church Friday morning, Brandon instead got to visit the hospital, identify the woman, visit her apartment, look for pertinent information, and attempt to locate a next of kin to dictate what they wanted done with her remains and possessions. To his knowledge, no duty officer had been faced with a body with no next of kin, which makes things more difficult.

But, to make things more difficult, he received a phone call around noon. Another lady had died. And he was responsible to call her next of kin and discuss what they wanted done with her remains.

So, it hasn't been the most restful Thanksgiving weekend he's ever had, with more visits to the Embassy than he would prefer for a weekend. And it's a long one - they have tomorrow off, too. Hopefully everyone in Egypt (who is an American citizen) will decide to stay alive.

That part of Oregon was my fault

Today I took Kathleen and Sophia to the pediatrician's for a 'poke' since everyone here seems to have access to H1N1 vaccine (being the clever mother that I am, I didn't tell them what they were doing until the nurse came in with the syringes).

Previous to the crying and protestations about staying in the hall while Sophia got poked, I had to fill out paperwork - four sheets per child. Two weeks ago I got to fill out some more paperwork - at least 6 or 7 pieces of paper - for my initial OB visit. When I was in Egypt, I had to fill out the same paperwork - twice - for the same pregnancy. And Kathleen and Sophia both got their own rap sheets filled out too.

Previous to the paperwork in Raleigh and the paperwork in Egypt, I got to fill out the exact same information for the girls when we lived in Arlington. I'm not sure exactly how long my labor for Sophia or Kathleen was, but by this time it doesn't matter. If I say five and fifteen hours enough times, the labor might as well have been five and fifteen hours because that's what it is now. And no, if have not had any problems with heart disease or sickle cell anemia, and my children's father is indeed white and married to me.

Within the past ten months, I have had medical records in four different cities and with six different primary care providers. And each place had their own forms to fill out, initial, and fingerprint (ok, I'm kidding about the last one). However, if anyone is interested in stealing my identity at this point, they can just follow my medical paper trail across the globe and back. It's about the same size as the swath of forests cut down to provide the paper for the forms.

Living a life of semi-leisure

My apologies to those who have become ardent followers of our oh-so-adventurous lives in Egypt. Nothing much is going on here, so as a sop I offer pictures. Enjoy!

A Recent Conversation

Kathleen: 'I forgot.'

Me: 'You forgot?'

Kathleen: 'I forgot something.'

Me: 'What did you forget, Kathleen?'

Kathleen: 'I forgot to do something.'

Me: 'What did you forget to do?'

Kathleen: 'I forgot to... go to the bathroom!'

Me: 'Well, you better go change then.'

Maybe we should stop using the Socratic method so much with her.

Truths of traveling

No matter how well-behaved one's children are, 15 1/2 hours of flying and 24 hours being awake is still a long, long, long time.

If there are going to be video screens not working, they will be the ones in front of Sophia and Kathleen and as a result their mother gets to watch cartoons.

No matter what the airplane provides for food - omelets, pasta, plain old rolls, cake, yogurt, chips, candy bars - my children will refuse to eat it leaving two perfectly good untouched meals in favor of gummy bears and goldfish.

Said gummy bears and goldfish on an empty stomach with insufficient water may lead to a very painful problem for certain children the next day.

If one is pregnant and traveling with two small children, the best service to be found is in the Middle East - you may have to pay for it, but it's much better than having your three year-old push your 18 month-old in the stroller while you heft 50-lb bags up to shoulder height to push everything through customs.

Europeans have no patience, compassion, or sympathy for pregnant women or small children.

Children always fall dead asleep for the last, shortest flight in the journey.

No matter how hard traveling can be, in only lasts for a certain amount of time. Thank heaven.