Evacuation: In Review

Now that we're safe, sound, and back home, I feel that I can look back on the evacuation with some objectivity.  Being evacuated is something that I never would have ever chosen to do.  But with that said, it was manageable.  I think that if I had been separated from Brandon for the entire three months, I would have been saying something else entirely.  But, I wasn't, and I'm grateful.

Although we've only been back for a handful of days, our time in Virginia is starting to fade in the fuzzy unreality of events completed.  This is my reality, and living in the US was just some strange, long dream I woke up from in the Cairo airport.

But, despite the overall unpleasant situation - away from home, living in a random apartment, unstable situation, maxed-out credit card, husband gone - I can't say that the entire three months were complete misery.

I enjoyed being back in the US with a car, a GPS, somewhere to go, and somewhere to park when I got there.  We've been going to the same park every Saturday since we've been here, and the girls were absolutely thrilled about the change.  Every time I'd announce we were going to a whole new park the girls were happy for the rest of the day.

On the surface when I didn't think too much about our situation, life really wasn't too bad.  I didn't have any housework, any appointments, and pretty much every day was filled with whatever I liked (as long as it included three children).  We went to the zoo, the aquarium, lots and lots of parks, friends' houses, relatives' houses, and to grandma and grandpa's.  Spending the first three months of my pregnancy on evacuation wasn't the worst thing because I already had excuses not to cook, and once Brandon left, I could sleep in as long as I liked.  Once it got warm, a friend and I decided to have as many picnic meals at the park as we could.

But, of course, when I thought about the reality of the situation, it wasn't quite so rosy.  I didn't bring anything to do with me, and after awhile the feeling of sitting and twiddling my thumbs began to drive me crazy.  Not knowing exactly when all of this was going to end, was frustrating (although I had a pretty good guess which turned out to be true).  The endless, expensive trips to Target for things I already owned grew a little old.  And when my husband got sent back, things definitely took a turn for the worse.

But, the evacuation, like most things in life, ended.  Which is something to remember in any unpleasant situation - all things end eventually.  And when you're done, you're that much more grateful for the pleasant situation that comes in its place.

Home. Safe, Sound, and Incredibly Happy

Right now, I can hear Brandon's voice echoing down the hallway.  Interspersed with his mellow tones and Kathleen and Sophia's excited voices chirping at him.  "Okay! We'll be mustangs!  And we'll pull you across the prairie!"  It is so wonderfully nice to hear that again, after three months of bedtime without Daddy, and a month entire with no Daddy at all.

Tuesday while I read blogs and relaxed from our flight, he bathed the children. While I fell asleep on the couch, he got them ready for bed and put them down.  And then we spent the evening catching up and eating chocolate.  Forget globetrotting, exotic vacations, amazing locales.  I just want to be home, and with my family.  It doesn't get any better than this.

In twenty-four hours...

I'll be flying over the Atlantic, hopefully asleep (maybe with the aid of medication).  But right now, my apartment is a mess, with dinner still sitting on the counter.  The girls' clothes are strewn over the floor, I have a load of laundry yet unfolded, and I can't find my iPod to charge it.

And what have I done about it for the last few hours?  Nothing.  What have I been doing instead?  Reading a really good book.  Because by tomorrow evening, my things will be packed, we will be on the plane, and dinner won't matter any more.  Whether or not I kill myself to do it tonight.

And so, I'm taking the last few precious hours of alone time to relax and read a book.  Tomorrow will take care of itself, right?

Time to go home

It is official - the evacuation is being lifted tomorrow.  Now begins the insanity of preparation to get gone yesterday.  Before I head off to the airport, we have to arrange pickup of a UAB shipment, arrange tickets on a flight that isn't full, I have to drop off things at my aunt's house for fall training, things at my cousin's house for my father to pick up, and find somewhere for my car to live for the next four months.

All hopefully before Sunday.  That would be Brandon's plan - leaving on Sunday.  But as with everything in the Foreign Service, this all depends on lining up the ducks just right.  So we'll have to see.

I am incredibly relieved that a rumored last-minute push to extend the evacuation did not go through.  I am looking forward to being with my husband and leaving single parenting to those who have stronger constitutions than mine.  These last few weeks alone have been exhausting, physically and emotionally, and I feel like I'm stumbling towards a far-distant finish line.  Can't rest until I'm on that plane.

Of course, flying with three children under five is no picnic either, but at that point, it's just a matter of waiting out the pain for a fixed amount of time.

So, we're going home.  I'm happy.  I'm relieved.  And boy am I tired.

The Needs of the Service

Recently, Brandon received an email from his CDO.  He forwarded it on to me, and I read it while preparing breakfast for the children.  Something had come up in Baku, and they needed us a little earlier - August 2011 instead of July 2012.

My thoughts were 1. hooray!  Now I can skip trying to find a house, living temporarily in DC, and move to our next post; 2. shoot, what about those things we were going to purchase and ship on while in training; 3. I suppose I'll make all of those visits I was planning on next go around; 4. boy, that National Aquarium membership was a waste of money; 5. and the GPS, too; 6. well, maybe the GPS was still worth it; 7. oh, what about that baby?

And then I remembered the baby.  And how we had specially planned things to take advantage of living in the US to have a trouble-free birth.  One that didn't involve trans-atlantic plane flights alone with three children followed by three months of living out of suitcases (again, for the second time in an eleven-month period), separation from Brandon, separation from my things, and separation from my life.  Again.

I think that if this news had come while I was happily living out my life in Cairo, it would have been less distressing.  I've done one medevac.  It's no picnic, but like most things in life, it's bearable.  But the thought of another evacuation, another separation, a whole new set of logistics to work out after working out the logistics of this evacuation, moving back to Cairo for three months, home leave, shipping our car, our things, and 2,500 pounds of consumables to Azerbaijan was a little much for me to handle.

But, this is what I signed up for.  After all, that's what happens in the Foreign Service - unexpected things.  I just didn't know that I was signing up for a year of turmoil, multiple separations, three-month stretches of stability, and six (yes six) trans-atlantic flights with three children under the age of five.

And then I counted weeks and realized that I would only have to deal with four flights - because I wasn't going to Baku (while Brandon was) until after baby number four is born because of dates.  And then I finally cried.  And maybe threw something against the wall.

But thankfully, there is mercy in this world, and she currently works at State.  Brandon emailed his CDO, explained the situation, and asked if perhaps we could delay our arrival in Baku until December, with all six of us together.  She said she'd talk to the appropriate people and see what could be done.

In a mercifully short time, the answer came, and that part of my troubles were solved: we were allowed to take language training and stay until everything is settled with the baby.  After such a crazy year (and it's only April!), I'm grateful for a such a happy ending to a potentially horrid situation.  My thanks go out to all of those involved.

A Note of Explanation

This morning, when I talked to Brandon, I learned that perhaps I had jumped the gun a little on announcing our return.  I certainly haven't been packing suitcases (in fact, I finally vacuumed up that oatmeal last night), and I hope nobody else has either.


When I said we’re all going home that was speculation and the EAC vote seemed to indicate this was the direction things were heading. However, the Department has to make the decision and even with EAC recommendation the Department may not be ready to let us return. It all depends on their discussion of things with post. Sorry, to have fanned the flames of rumor and gotten everyones’ hopes up.


But, hopefully, the speculation will turn into reality.

More packing... but for the last time

Today when Brandon and I talked, he had good news.  The EAC at post voted, and we're all going home.  We just don't know when exactly.  Since there are so many dependents who are still here in the US, they're trying to have a staggered return (anyone want to co-ordinate the return of 800+ people in three days?).  So we'll have to see how soon we'll return, but we do know that we will be going back.

When I told the girls, they gave me blank looks, and then I think Kathleen said something along the lines of hooray.  Sophia just kept looking at me.  We heard that we might return while at my aunt's house for the weekend (another round of packing, but just for overnight), and so they asked when we packed up to leave yesterday if we were going to Cairo.  Not yet, darlings, but soon.

I confess that I'm a little relieved that we're not going in three days.  After driving up from NC on Wednesday, moving solo Friday, and going up to Maryland Saturday and coming home Sunday, I'm beat.  While we were unpacking Friday, oats got spilled on the carpet, and they're still by the coffee table, slowly making their way around the house.  Thankfully I unpacked everything on Friday, but the suitcase from this weekend sits in the front room, slowly disgorging its contents.

Instead of cleaning up, however, I laid on the couch this morning reading, and took the children to the park this afternoon (where we met a fellow FS blogger).  I will miss all of the lovely parks.

So we're all excited to go back.  We all miss Brandon and home and space and Egyptian food and normal life.  We're happy.  And tired.  But most of all, happy.

Dear Oakwood,

Thank you for giving me a new apartment.  I have already used the washer and dryer.  I have enjoyed rearranging the furniture and kitchen to my liking again.  I think that by the third apartment I should have everything just about perfect.

I have a few complaints.  That key you gave me?  It didn't work.  And my internet code was changed this morning, and nobody told me the new one until I called and asked.  I had to call myself on my cell phone to find out what my new phone number is.

But what has really been the most annoying is when I called Sarah Indian and tried to find out where my food is, an hour after I ordered it.  When I found out that the delivery driver had waited fifteen minutes while calling repeatedly, I called with my cell phone and the number was busy, repeatedly.

It is now 6:30, 30 minutes after my 16 month-old's bedtime, and I have no dinner.  The delivery driver should be here in about 15 minutes to make the delivery, again.  I gave them my cell phone number this time.  Hopefully my children haven't destroyed your brand-new apartment while waiting for their dinner.

Sincerely,
Ashley Sherwood

P.S.  I am sure that white suede chair bottoms look very nice in your promotional photos, but they are on a collision course for disaster with my children.  Perhaps for the studios?

On why I am never living in an apartment without a washer and dryer again

Yesterday everyone was tired.  We (I) had packed up our things and driven from NC to DC with little or no naps.  Edwin went to bed at 5:30.  The girls went to bed at 6:30, and were asleep by seven.

After everyone was asleep, I settled down with a book and fell asleep myself, finally rolling off the couch around nine.  I got ready for bed, sent my nightly email to Brandon, wasted a few minutes online, and then climed into bed myself, ready to get my pregnant eight plus hours of necessary sleep.

And then Edwin started crying.  I initially ignored him, hoping he'd go back to sleep, but after a few minutes maternal guilt kicked in and I got up to check on him.  When I opened the door to the room, the smell hit me.  Vomit.  I don't like vomit; I don't think anyone does.  And I've never actually dealt with anyone's but my own, and that itself has only occurred twice since elementary school.  Thankfully each previous incident with the children had been taken care of someone other than myself, which was good because I was also pregnant each time.

No such luck this time.  I was alone.  My husband was four thousand miles away, my mother two hundred and fifty, my mother in law nine hundred.  And it was ten o'clock at night.  So, holding my breath, I stripped the sheets, changed Edwin's clothes, washed out his ear and hair, and said a silent prayer of gratitude that Edwin's other blanket was not in the crib when he vomited.

After calming him down, I dressed him in new pajamas, got out the only other crib sheet we have, and grabbed his blanket from the couch.  I put him down, and got myself ready for bed again.

And then he started crying, again.  More clothes went into the bathtub, awaiting morning light to be washed in the community laundry room.  Edwin went to bed on an extra twin sheet from the girls, Sophia's piggy pajamas, and Sophia's little blanket (thankfully, he will sleep with his sister's blanket).

This time I didn't bother turning off the light, and got out a book.  Half an hour later, he started crying, and I rushed to his room, and managed to get him to the sink before most of the vomit hit, saving the blanket, but not the pajamas.  This time we settled down to watch the last forty-five minutes of Ocean's 11 with a bowl on hand.  I had to save that last blanket, or all would be lost.

Edwin waited until George Clooney had tricked the mean casino owner to toddle around for three minutes before the now-familiar sound started.  I had the bowl ready, despite his objections, and caught only a small amount, what looked to be the last contents of his stomach.  So, off to bed in more of Sophia's pajamas.

Thinking of that one last blanket, I read until 12:30, and then went to sleep myself, praying that I could sleep until morning.  Which I did.  And then I took a filthy heap downstairs, to do the laundry.

Unpacking, and then packing, and then... unpacking

Yesterday, we got back from my parents' house in North Carolina.  While driving down Leesburg Pike, Kathleen exclaimed, "Mom, I think this looks just like Virginia!"  They are having problems understanding where we are going next.  This morning Sophia asked if we were going on the airplane to Cairo.  She was disappointed to only be taking a car to Virginia.  I was disappointed too.

Usually when I get to a destination, I unpack.  I don't like my clothes vomiting out of suitcases, although sometimes that doesn't necessarily translate to unpacking immediately.  This morning all of my clothes are still in the suitcases, without the least effort to unpack them.  In fact, I'm trying to keep as much in them as possible.

Because we're moving today.  I got a call a few days before Brandon left with the chipper Oakwood man generously offering us a newly renovated apartment.  I didn't call back because I didn't want to bother moving with three small children while pregnant without my husband.  He tracked me down at my parents' and repeated the offer.  No thanks, I told him, I'll hopefully only be staying two more weeks anyway.

Well, it turned down that the offer was less of a nice gift and more like an eviction notice.  Oakwood is renovating, and all apartments in a column are renovated at once.  And it's all of the -03s in C building.

One day when I am old and tired I'm going to move into a house.  And then I will unpack all of my things.  And then I will never leave they pull my cold, dead body out in a coffin.