"Tweat Time"

Our time in DC was so short.  We wanted to see so many friends and we wanted to see so many things but when it came right down to it Shawn had to work.  So we spent our time there actually getting stuff done for our move to Manila.

However we were blessed enough to get together with one family, who we love dearly.  We were in Paraguay together and our kids were good friends.  The Pierces made their way to the hotel on Monday evening, we spent a few hours catching up and then grabbed some dinner before heading to the park to play.  The park is such a wonderful park, on Barton (for those DCers interested) and it kept the kids entertained for hours. 

Eli was constantly getting "lost" at the park.  I even went over and stood right by the play structure to make sure that he would not wander off and get lost with the oh so many people at the park.  But before I knew it he had disappeared. 

I surveyed the park and noticed the ice cream truck stopped in the road with a line around the block.  But if you know my child you know he has no patience; so I found him at the front of the line with his hands out.  Before I could get to him he was running toward me with a "tweat." 

Trying not to shake him for scaring me nearly to death I stomped over to the stroller and grabbed my wallet to pay the ice cream man for the sucker my son had clearly begged off of him.  I stuck my head in the window and said, "Hi, you gave my son a sucker, how much do I owe you?"  He smiled at me and said, "Oh, he gave me a quarter for it. 

Not only was I shocked that Eli had a quarter to give (although he has been keeping "treasures" in his pockets, apparently for this very purpose) but I was even more shocked that he knew what to do with it.  I guess living in a cash economy he has picked up a thing or two. 

So now I know I need to guard my spare change or my 4 year old will be buying suckers from every ice cream vendor he sees. 

How much is too much?

I am a believer that life at post is what you make of it.  I truly believe I could be happy in any post.  Maybe not as happy as I could be in say London or Madrid; but nonetheless there is good and bad about each post. 

So I wanted to start this by telling you how much I love Paraguay.  Sure there are things that drive me crazy, the coke store closes in the middle of the day everyday (yes, I know it is sad that the coke store is on the top of my list, but if you know me you know I love Coke), drivers think they are the MOST important person on the road, buses stop every 30 feet to let people on or off, everything is closed on Saturday after noon (so get your errands done early)!  But Paraguay has so much to offer.  All in all the people are so nice and want to help, in general they love Americans, I can walk pretty much anywhere (in my neighborhood) during the day without a second thought, we have hot (yes blazing hot) and cold (actually really chilly) seasons, we have a pool in our yard, and there are even some extra benefits we have a maid, and a cook, gardener, and massage therapist that come to the house once a week.  It would not seem that I have much to complain about.  In fact I dare say (being so far away from family aside) the pros out weigh the cons. 

However, our housing here has been one big headache.  We were put in a house that although lovely was unable to be repaired when it rained.  It rained inside every time it rained outside.  So after some pleading from those in housing we decided to move.  We put the request in with the embassy and were given a house with a whole different set of problems.  From day one my 4 year old has been sick.  I reported the smell of mold to maintenance and the health unit.  We spent months fighting to get someone to fix the issue.  I even switched his bedroom with my older son because I thought that might help. People came over to the house with moisture readers and told me that the house was in fact very moist, "but there is nothing we can do about it.  We live in Paraguay, it is humid."  I finally gave up the fight knowing we only had 6 months left. 

In April we returned from a trip and our floor had a bubble in it.  Not just a little bubble a bubble that was about 5 feet long and 4 feet wide.  So in early May the work finally began.  When they pulled up the floor there was so much mold they could not relay the floor.  They cleaned it and let it dry (only the 5x4 section of it because there must not be mold anywhere else).  It dried for nearly 2 weeks before they finally relayed the floor.  Once it was relayed the repair guy told me that when they finished the floor we would need to be out of the house for 12 hours.  They would start about 8 am and could probably return to the house around 10 or 11 at night.  Really??? What am I supposed to do with my kids for all that time?  So I told them to wait to refinish the floor until we moved. 

Now we have the exact same issue in another part of our house.  The direct exposure to the mold has caused breathing problems and headaches for everyone.  Even keeping my kids away from the area it is still in the air making everyone feel under the weather.


Although housing issues do arise when living stateside (I have had my fair share) dealing with them while living overseas adds a different kind of stress.  It is not in my power to fix it.  We can't just move.  And we run the risk of pissing off the people we work with/for.  And this one has been especially hard because my husband (the state employee) has not been here to advocate for our family, so we have in a way been swept under the rug, so to speak. 

So although one would think the pro's out weigh the con's of living here, once you factor in our housing experience, for me, it quickly leans in the other direction.

The Pants

     One of the things I love about living in Paraguay is having household help.  Please understand sometimes it is actually more work to have her around than it is to not have her here.  There have actually been days when she has not come to work for one reason or another and I do a little happy dance.  It is a day I can lay around the house watch anything I like on TV and eat junk food.  But all of that is for another blog.
     Most of the time it is very nice to know that first thing in the morning dishes will be done, beds will be made and floors will be mopped.  One thing however that I will not let her do (which drives her crazy might I add) is wash the clothes.  There are a plethora of reasons I do not let her wash clothing, when she washes I have to replace clothing more often, the uses laundry soap by the cup, she often washes dry clean only stuff with Levi's, she washes every single day so often it is only 3 things in the washing machine, etc.  But one of the biggest reasons is I do it is because, I don't mind doing it and it feels like it is something I still "do" for my family. 
     Since my husband left for Afghanistan we have moved houses.  So the house has a weird feeling in it, it is a place he has never lived, or even step foot in.  When I moved in, all of his cloths went into the corner of one of the closets and that door is never opened.  I sleep on the other side of the bed because it is closer to the kids.  I use up most of the space in the house.  But there is this one pair of pants.
     Every time I wash the laundry there is one pair of my husbands pants that are at the bottom of the pile.  At first I didn't wash them because they have to be washed separately and I just had too much laundry to do to wash a single item.  But now I do not wash them because it means he must be coming home.  My goodness he still has laundry undone here, of course he will be home.   
     I know that this line of thinking is silly and clearly his dirty pants have no actual bearing on him coming home, but it is still my thing I need to do for him.  It is my unfinished business and I need that.  So call me crazy, or call me lazy, but Honey, I still have your laundry in the hamper and I can't wait until I have another pair of pants in the hamper so I don't have to wash them separately.

Three and a half months down..... eight and a half to go. 

315 Easy Steps to Obtaining a Paraguyan Drivers License

So when we arrived two and a half years ago we were taken to get our drivers license.  My license expired in April so I decided it was about time to go get another.  At this point I would like to thank the AMAZING guy from the embassy that helps with this process, without him we would be lost.

So if you follow these directions and get the nice guy from the Embassy to walk you through it you should have your license in under 2 hours.  --- Sorry the photos are so bad.  The camera on my phone sucks!!!

Desk 1

Step 1:  Collect all documents (including a certified letter stating your blood type)
Step 2:  Start at desk to fill out paper work.
Step 3:  Go to another desk to get copies of passport, government ID etc.
Step 4:  Pay for copies
Step 5:  Go back to first desk with copies and get paperwork and copies approved.
Step 6:  Go to cashier to pay for "stamps."  The purpose of these stamps are unknown.
Step 7:  Go to the Documentacion y foto desk and give them new papers with stamps on it.
Step 8:  Answer questions about purpose of needing a drivers license.
Step 9:  Wait
Step 10: Be called into a small room with two men to give you a "driving test."
Step 11: Take test 1 vision test.  Name letters and colors.
Step 12:  Take "reaction" test.  This is a test to see how fast you can slam on the break should something (probably a small child) run in front of your car.
Step 13:  Take hearing test.  This one is awesome because you can see which side the sound is going to be on and they only test each ear once.
Step 14:  Receive the "you passed" smile and leave room.
Step 15:  Wait

Waiting, waiting and more waiting

Step 16:  Be called into another room for your picture.

Step 17:  Wonder if you should smile because no one else does but they all look so unhappy in their pictures.
Step 18:  Smile and graciously thank the guy that is hitting on you for taking your picture.

1984 computers

Step 19:  Wait
Step 20:  Wonder why they are still using computers from 1984.
Step 21:   Get more paper work from the counter.
Step 22:  Go back to cashier and pay even more money.
Step 23:  Return to the counter with the receipt.
Step 24:  Wait
Step 25:  Get Drivers License that can not be used as ID in Paraguay and thank the guy.

How a Small Embassy is Like High School

So my last few weeks at post have been very trying.  We were forced to move the same day we returned from R&R.  I guess forced might be a bit of an exaggeration.  They emailed me while I was on R&R and suggested that they move all of my stuff into the new house while I was gone.  I said that was NOT a good idea mostly because of my cat (who I put on valium when we fly for fear she will have a heart attack and die), but also because if something got lost or broken I would be totally unable to prove that the movers broke or took it because my maid has had access to my house the whole time I was gone; and really lets be honest who wants other people going through their personal stuff?  Would anyone else be alright with this?  Coming back from a 5 week R&R to a house full of boxes not knowing where anything was.  Hoping someone could put together the complicated computer system your husband had designed?  Not to mention, I have no hubby to help me through it all, we were starting the FIRST day of school the day we got back.  I just felt it was a bad idea. 

So I agreed to move THE VERY DAY I arrived back in country so that the government could have me out of my house by the end of the month.  I felt this was really nice of me because I am a planner.  I generally "pre-pack" before the movers arrive so that all of the contents of my drawers are not just thrown in boxes but are nicely bagged and easy to find.  I unhook all electronics and secure them to the electronic which they belong, and I move things around so that when we arrive to the new place vital things are found easily and knick-knacks will have a home when the last boxes are unpacked. 
Of course there was not time for any of that, so drawers were emptied into boxes, I still (3 weeks later) cannot find the cord to the Wii or movie player for the kids, and my computers are ... well functioning ... although not networked.

And through all of this it was the last 3 weeks of summer semester for me.  So I have completed 3 papers, and two finals in this week.  Completed paperwork for my kids, set up tutors, working on a preschool (required) project for children's day, arranged to have internet in my new house, and a mess of other things in the last few weeks. 

One thing I have realized in this horrible mess (other than I made a mistake moving and should have just stayed in a house with a leaky roof) is that some embassies feel like a high school, or at least this one does at times.  I'm sure this is true with any small community.  I have experienced similar experiences at church and in small towns, at work and even within a large family, but none-the-less it is true. 

First, you have the popular kids, of which I am not one, for many reasons, but mostly because I'm not as involved as I should be, and many of those people are just fake anyway.   There is the back stabbing witch that if you make her mad she will make you pay, even if that means making your kids pay.  There is the gossipy girl and/or the girl that will listen to all of your problems, that you get to comfortable with and it ends up biting you in the butt.  There is the jock, that smiles at everyone, is constantly making jokes and seems like he really wants to be your friend; but when push comes to shove, he won't lift one finger for you unless it is in his job description. Of course there is the jocks wife girlfriend, the cheerleader, that is really just too good for you.  Then there is the geeky debate boy.  This is the kid that did cross-x or Lincoln Douglas at debate tournaments (yes, I realize this makes you think that I was probably one of those kids too, but you would be wrong, I didn't Cross-x or LD in high school---but I was on the debate team.  But if you know me you know I will go toe to toe with almost anyone.)  He doesn't really think for himself, his sole purpose is to be "right according to the evidence" and be a complete asshole while doing it. Then there are the worker bees.  The people that keep their head down, don't get involved in the politics unless they have to and just do their job, and sometimes the job of others to help keep the embassy  high school functioning.  There are those people that will go out of their way to make sure everyone is taken care of even at their own expense.  And their are those people who are users; they are your "best friend" when they need your homework answers or a ride.

I guess I knew the whole high school dilemma before moving here.  In fact being a part of a small community was one thing I really wanted.  I still choose it.  I could have gone home and found a different "high school group" to be a part of, but I decided to stay and enjoy the family I have here.  I know it is not perfect and I will steer clear of some of these people, but I hope to also learn from my mistakes, sidestep the landmines, embrace the good, be a little more outgoing and keep moving on... once my house is unpacked. 

Did I mention my next semester starts on Thursday?