tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82808377646061867082012-02-13T10:14:15.536-05:00This blog describes my journey as a a Foreign Service officer, wife of another FS Officer and a mom to a boisterous, loving little boy. In August 2010, my husband began his career with the State Department, and I started mine in March 2011. We left for our first post in Dhaka, Bangladesh in July 2011. We will move abroad to work in different American embassies every two years. We are thrilled with our new adventure and cannot wait for it to begin.The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.comBlogger1321100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-39079987955736895092012-02-13T10:14:00.000-05:002012-02-13T10:14:15.546-05:00

So, this last week was the perfect illustration of our life here. On Sunday night, we were gracious invited a small birthday dinner, which involved mutton, some ridiculous guacamole/salsa thing with baby shrimp in it, lamb, chicken, roasted potatoes and beef (I think). It was followed by a solid Chivas Regal and chocolate cake (which I did not eat—I am on a diet!!). On Tuesday, I was randomly

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-63272392562011130652012-02-06T12:35:00.002-05:002012-02-06T12:35:49.261-05:00

This past week the Diplomat and I went down to the south of Bangladesh where the U.S. Embassy held a 3-day self-promotional bonanza in the port city of Chittagong. The trip is a complete blur to me, a phantasmagorical mix of teas, meetings, visa presentations, KFC lunches on the go, dinners with local dignitaries, talking to students, talking to local American Chambers of Commerce, talking to

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-35944111698549403052012-01-25T11:56:00.000-05:002012-01-25T11:56:32.185-05:00

This weekend was another exercise in frantic social life. The Diplomat had decided to go see his Grandma in Chennai and I was wise enough to let him go alone. That way he can enjoy Grandma and her cooking, while I bond with Son. I bravely faced a weekend filled with social obligations alone. On Friday morning, I held auditions for the upcoming Hollywood Ball (another one of our famed balls in

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-27298254432664006002012-01-16T12:05:00.001-05:002012-01-17T09:20:57.971-05:00

There are two things that are driving me insane in Bangladesh. The first is the Baksheesh. We call it “tipping” in the Western world, but it is so much more than that. Baksheesh is a way of life, a matter of pride, a beautiful (or frustrating) end of a task. Baksheesh follows no rules and depends on social status and the moment. May I say that I HATE Baksheesh?! Baksheesh permeates every single

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-41538112691384690792012-01-11T12:35:00.000-05:002012-01-11T12:35:07.413-05:00

It is a VERY difficult job. I have been doing it now for 3.5 years and I can tell you I have had better and more interesting tasks in the meantime. The one thing you need to know is that if you truly want your child to learn a second language at home, you have to pursue it with the persistence of a rabid dog. Learning multiple languages by children is a fact of life in the Foreign Service. On

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-25912794374303867072012-01-02T11:08:00.000-05:002012-01-02T11:08:52.818-05:00

I agree it is not a noble deed. But one simply must. Because now, with the advent of winter, it has become a real pest in Dhaka. You know how birds in the North tend to migrate to the South in the winter in search of warm lands? Well, it seems to me that the world population of mosquitoes has by now evacuated to Bangladesh and despite the large rate of attrition (courtesy of the multiple ways we

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-14763100041197698002011-12-31T09:48:00.000-05:002011-12-31T09:48:39.963-05:00

There are just few hours left of 2011 here in Bangladesh. We are dressed up, hair coiffed, makeup applied, perfumed and ready to taken on the city of Dhaka tonight. And so, while we wait for Son's babysitter to show up, I cannot help but reflect on what has been probably the craziest year in my life. We learned Bengali, packed up our lives and moved to the other side of the world, Son changed

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-28909328254996850652011-12-21T12:03:00.000-05:002011-12-21T12:03:37.760-05:00

Christmas has surprised me this year. It sort of crept up on me here because of the warm weather and the fact that there is not a single Christmas propaganda in the entire city of Dhaka. Not one! Not a single plastic Santa or glowing Christmas tree in the streets. Odd. Before coming to post I thought importantly to myself that I have never used a fake tree in my life and was not about to. I was

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-62291822720172750562011-12-13T12:41:00.000-05:002011-12-13T12:41:21.265-05:00

So, winter has descended upon us here in Bangladesh. For weeks, my driver has been warning me grimly how horribly cold it would get in Dhaka. So, in excited anticipation (yes, after months of wet 100F and above, you TOO will be excited about cold weather), I pulled out the sweaters and arranged them in neat piles in our closets. And then I sat down and waited, day by day, for the severe cold that

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-13702465692953840812011-12-03T12:20:00.000-05:002011-12-03T12:20:43.125-05:00

Last weekend the Diplomat, Son and I flew to Kuala Lumpur for a brief, three-day weekend away. I am happy to say that the trip started well and it just kept getting better! For some reason, we got upgraded to Business Class. Now, honestly, was Business Class all that it is cracked up to be? OH YES, YES, YES! From the warm, fragrant hand towels, the lamb satee, the champagne, the service, the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-19899613896734721252011-11-19T08:05:00.001-05:002011-11-20T08:34:18.230-05:00

We shared our desire for some wine and beer with the resort staff and they happily told us that there is a place in downtown Sylhet where we can procure the goods. They did not tell us what kind of a place it was but asked us to bring our diplomatic passports so we assumed it was the local equivalent of the diplomatic warehouses in Dhaka. In those places, you enter a highly guarded world of

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-6266285641128821012011-11-08T12:46:00.000-05:002011-11-08T12:46:53.496-05:00

Where do I even begin? There is so much to tell that I will break this post into parts and you will be forced to come back to read if you want to know how the Diplomat and I went to the tea gardens of Sylhet, drank obscene quantities of dreadfully strong local tea, obtained what appeared to be contraband alcohol, stepped into India for a few minutes, and never got a single food order right. So, I

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-44367505378118565182011-10-28T07:22:00.004-04:002011-10-28T16:54:17.793-04:00

And people take it seriously. Maybe because it is a way to reconnect with home, or maybe because it is yet another reason to party, but both expats and local embassy staff have embraced the holiday and the amount of parties, carnivals and trick-or-treat events for children are mind-boggling. Two weeks ago was the pre-cursor of it all by the name of the Glitter Ball, organized by the Australians.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-26260496821588686672011-10-17T12:03:00.000-04:002011-10-17T12:03:39.478-04:00

The previous weekend the Diplomat, Son and I made a 4-day visit to my Inlaws in Chennai, India. We thought we had been rather clever—since tickets from Dhaka to Chennai were quite pricey, we decided to buy tickets on two different airlines. From Dhaka we’d fly to Calcutta on the wings of the impressive Bangladeshi GMG Airlines, and from there board an IndiGo flight to Chennai. Not so much. I

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-46375108916586081522011-10-04T12:21:00.000-04:002011-10-04T12:21:20.984-04:00

So, I am sick AGAIN. I don't remember ever being sick so many times in such a short period of time in my life before. I was given the vague diagnosis of "tonsilitis" when in fact it was mostly my stomach. As a result, I have now spent 2 days sleeping. Not that there's anything wrong with that. This past weekend I fulfilled my dream of buying fancy plates and other "crokery" - Bangladesh has a

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-91225495832726922442011-09-26T11:57:00.000-04:002011-09-26T11:57:37.044-04:00

Driving in South Asia is horrendous. It is not just the traffic, it is the rickshaws and the sheer mass of bodies, whether human or fauna, present on the streets. Dhaka, however, lifts the bar of atrocious driving to new unattainable levels and one needs a heck of a lot of nerve and machismo or a driver to survive here. Much to everyone’s dismay, I happily contributed to the mayhem this weekend.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-8431866193674192872011-09-18T14:49:00.000-04:002011-09-18T14:49:07.390-04:00

And so this past week marked a significant milestone of my life for I have just turned 35. I celebrated in quite some style! I slept in till 10 am, when I was awoken by the call of the Apache, impersonated by Son who had drawn me an elaborate picture including a dragon, a few squishy circles and something that looked like a train with the words Love underneath it. Turns out it was actually drawn

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-31102511725473964682011-09-08T14:34:00.000-04:002011-09-08T14:34:51.172-04:00

So, the Diplomat and I decided to use the few gratuitous vacation days marking the end of the Ramadan for Eid combined with Labor Day and take Son for a nice family vacation to the sunny, lovely beaches of Thailand. I was so excited and told so many people about it that I suppose I jinxed the whole trip. For starters, when we arrived at Dhaka airport for our 3 am flight, we were told by the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-4546895294413937992011-08-29T14:04:00.000-04:002011-08-29T14:04:44.790-04:00

Well, I can safely say that I am all Iftar-ed out. Last week, on Tuesday, the Embassy hosted a representational Iftar dinner for young professionals at a local rather posh restaurant called the enigmatic "The 8." A day later, all of the attendees from the American Embassy were wiped out with violent food poisoning. Neither I nor the Diplomat were spared. I'd like to proudly point out that while

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-46008822390772832892011-08-22T14:34:00.000-04:002011-08-22T14:34:03.907-04:00

Bangladesh and the rest of the Muslim world is in the midst of the holy month of the Ramadan, during which a huge majority of the Muslims keep a daily fast. That means that they do not eat after daybreak and before sunset. Which in turn means that they get up at about 4-4.30 am for a prayer, then a meal, then most likely go back to bed, wake up again, go to work and then break fast at about 6.30

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-44060322239611738622011-08-15T11:21:00.000-04:002011-08-15T11:21:55.185-04:00

The past one week has been raining nonstop and as a result the streets of Dhaka have been severely flooded. The rickshaws seem to be swimming in the radically congested traffic and the cars actually have snorkels on them. Yup, snorkels! Every day on the way back from work, you can see thousands of people walking barefeet knee-deep in the brackish water. One day the lake next door overflowed and

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-89341473851379921612011-08-06T14:10:00.000-04:002011-08-06T14:10:44.663-04:00

Here I am, sitting in my semi-humid office room, next to me a (tall plastic) cup of my favorite single malt scotch, the house is quiet and I feel as content as a Bangladeshi rickshaw walla who has just managed to fleece a particularly naive couple of diplomats by fooling them to pay him an entire dollar for the ride vs. the 35 cents it actually goes for. More power to him. The reason for my

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-72474506993767420192011-07-26T13:07:00.000-04:002011-07-26T13:07:15.320-04:00

And so, we are settling in Dhaka. I am not entirely sure where to even begin. My first foray into the Foreign Service has been a solid if uneven mixture of hysterical contrasts, frustration, wonderful people, exhausting social life, missing shipments, absurdly frizzy hair, infamous traffic, constant staring, improving Bangla, amazing work, occassional loneliness, constant surprises and perplexing

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-43024772650154447232011-07-19T12:47:00.000-04:002011-07-19T12:47:21.508-04:00

I think it could be safely said that am a bit traveled out at this point. This is what I did in the past 10 days: 1. On July 4th, I flew from Washington, DC to NYC 2. On July 5th, I flew from NYC to Sofia through Budapest (dreadful AA flight, protracted 4 hrs layover in Budapest, queasy stomach, irritable Son) 3. On July 10th, I flew from Sofia to Istanbul where I spent 5 hot, stuffy hours at the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-24466738834243281982011-07-08T08:32:00.062-04:002011-07-08T12:10:09.261-04:00

I would like to take this opportunity to bust a bit the dreams of all the FSO hopefuls out there. This is what I thought happens when a FSO travels abroad to get to his or her post: she arrives in style at the airport, looking smashing in her heels, skirt suit and a dashing scarf, gently lays her black diplomatic passport on the check-in counter at which point the airline clerk bursts into

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-86097351798877898762011-07-04T22:12:00.000-04:002011-07-04T22:12:58.646-04:00

I am sitting here in my absurdly small room at the W Hotel in New York City, next to my peacefully asleep Son in an equally absurdly small crib and I am trying to deal with a bit of emotion on the eve of my departure for strange lands. In a way, this feels like the second time I am leaving my home to go somewhere completely new and unknown. The first time was in August 1996, when I climbed on

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-38315446552512894782011-06-26T22:55:00.000-04:002011-06-26T22:55:53.398-04:00

It is a bit funny that the first member of the family to land in Dhaka was Fat Cat. for all those of you who wrote to me about shipping your beloved furries, I would like to give you a brief description of the shipping process. On Friday, the Diplomat and I loaded Fat Cat and his Lady Friend in our rental car and drove to Dulles airport. for the past 2 weeks, we kept the kennels in our living

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-24651606383015132662011-06-20T23:49:00.000-04:002011-06-20T23:49:56.057-04:00

Believe it or not, one of the major headaches for us so far has been trying to organize the shipping of Fat Cat. Now, the good folks of FSI who have seen probably thousands of irritated FSOs trying to ship their beloved pets, have a nifty 2hr lecture on the subject of how to do that. The guest lecturer is none other than the owner of the most popular pet shipping company among the Foreign Service

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-29256731481966594832011-06-08T23:02:00.000-04:002011-06-08T23:02:30.791-04:00

So, in our infinite diplomatic wisdom, The Diplomat and I decided to go to Orlando during Memorial Day weekend. The idea was to have Son experience Mickey Mouse before we plunge him into the world of exotic foreign developing-world travel. As you can imagine, about a trillion other American parents had decided to come with their own children to see the blasted mouse's kingdom for the long weekend

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-73497695522479499602011-05-26T09:45:00.000-04:002011-05-26T09:45:22.948-04:00

If there is one thing I have learned from my 2 and half years of motherhood, that is: if your child is quiet for more than 10 minutes, he or she is up to something decidedly not good. Like, drawing with pencil on the walls (which would not erase sufficiently, not matter how long you try). Or, empty the flower pots on the balcony from all the dirt, spread it happily on the ground and wallow in it

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-55772299646513981562011-05-15T16:03:00.002-04:002011-05-15T16:03:30.840-04:00

(Yey, Blogger is up again!) It has been a while, and yes, my life has been the usual and even a bit more of a circus. And if you think I am exaggerating, here is an example: after we hosted a dinner for a few friends last night at home and went to bed at about 3 am, today we went to lunch (slightly comatose) at our fabulous friends M&M’s house only to have M go into labor right then and there

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-59563265376617346882011-05-01T22:46:00.000-04:002011-05-01T22:46:20.324-04:00

The Diplomat and I have camped quite a few times back in our childless days. In fact, we'd like to think of ourselves as quite the campers, really! Before you conjure up some unreasonable picture of us in hiking gear, roasting fish we have just caught barehanded after trekking for 25 miles along perilous cliffs and sleeping in hanging tents off said cliffs, let me make something clear: our style

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-39437057217337002302011-04-29T23:52:00.000-04:002011-04-29T23:52:30.280-04:00

Yes, I am still around, and yes, I will still be writing. Hopefully, I will be back in full swing this coming week. The past week and half have been a four-ring circus even by my own personal circus standards. This is how it all went down in brief: --impromptu dinner party with horrible semi-home-made pizza on last Fri night with a highschool friend of the Diplomat, along with his lovely wife and

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-48178266819875702372011-04-19T22:47:00.001-04:002011-04-20T23:32:59.180-04:00

Tough to believe but I find myself in week 4 of my A-100 training. Last week we were treated to a couple of days of somewhat different training, which was meant to teach us teambuilding and leadership. The teaching was certainly solidified by few nights of cheap beer, horrible wine and some karaoke of disturbing quality. As if we did not have enough, on Sunday I lead a team of 20 fearless

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-43097306499097728862011-04-12T23:39:00.000-04:002011-04-12T23:39:45.025-04:00

Week 3 of A-100 training is in full swing, and I'd like to take this opportunity to share some wisdom I have acquired recently. Details of our training must remain shrouded in tantalizing secrecy, but I will regale you with tidbits of hysterical humor that I was treated to: 1. Some cultures/people are Peaches and some are Coconuts. It has to do with the shell and the insides. What do you think

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-69059541852910045372011-04-10T23:33:00.000-04:002011-04-10T23:33:46.601-04:00

Another week packed with action is behind us. For the 160th A-100 class, it was anything but boring. 1. On Monday, we had a happy hour in Arlington, hosted by our sponsoring class, the gracious 158th class. Much fun and cheap cocktails were had. The Diplomat and Son join us festively, annihilating many a chicken tenders and shooting fake hoops in the game room. 2. On Tuesday, we had a happy

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-17612280497760785062011-04-03T19:26:00.000-04:002011-04-03T19:26:52.641-04:00

My first working week as a FSO has come and gone. I admit without shame that I absolutely love my colleagues--the sheer amount of intelligence, experience, language knowledge and multiple academic degrees all in one room is frankly intimidating. I honestly can say that I feel privileged and honored to work with them all. Plus, they elected me to be one of their social chairs. So, I like them even

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-5330447052812436902011-03-28T21:32:00.002-04:002011-03-28T22:06:12.743-04:00

As of today, I am officially a Foreign Service officer--today was my first day, appropriately filled with many, many many information sessions and mountains of paper and fingerprints. Today was the culmination of a life-long dream and a year-long grueling examination and selection process. I would like to take this moment and tell you how incredibly honored and moved I am to have this unique

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-49450238430443679142011-03-21T12:58:00.003-04:002011-03-22T12:09:53.912-04:00

I have been resting now for 8 days, which translates to sleeping in until 10am (or later), cooking up "interesting" recipes, making desserts, sewing, staring blankly at the TV watching some awful show or organizing happy hours for my future FSO compadres. I can tell you my disposition has considerably improved, and my outlook on life as well as my own looks have benefited from the lack of stress

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-37818303530953345802011-03-11T20:17:00.000-05:002011-03-11T20:17:45.182-05:00

Well, folks, I am now a proud graduate of the Bengali language training! I passed my exam with a 2 in speaking and 2+ in reading. Woah!!!! The Diplomat procured an unusually expensive bottle of champagne ($19.99!!!), a box of strawberries, a bouquet of gerberas and is bathing Son and putting him to bed! I am officially celebrating! I will spend the next two weeks fixing my suits (A-100 program is

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-86320017903998499762011-03-10T21:01:00.000-05:002011-03-10T21:01:21.186-05:00

So, the Diplomat and I got cultural on Tuesday night and to my utter delight, went to the Kennedy Center to see Puccini's Madama Butterfly. Out of all the operas I have seen (and I have seen a lot), this has got to be the saddest one in the world. The story itself is horribly sad but to add to the drama, it includes a 3-year old child, whose mother (for no necessary reason) kills herself because

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-18289013150300011552011-03-08T13:26:00.005-05:002011-03-09T16:04:37.304-05:00

Wooo, hooo, now THIS is exciting news folks! So, that means I am released from my Russian BEX. With that, the last piece of our tandem puzzle falls into place.Oh yeah, besides the small detail that my Bangla final is this Friday. Um, brrrrr....

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-89112936627373925812011-03-07T21:43:00.005-05:002011-03-09T22:18:55.277-05:00

So, I took the feared BEX exam in Bengali on Thursday afternoon. I am now still waiting for a response from BEX. Sigh... The Diplomat and a couple of his FSI friends have decided to go to NYC for the upcoming weekend, where we still own an apartment (anyone in the market for a 2-bedroom in NYC???), and paint the town red like only 40 year old married men with kids can. It will be so wild. OK, it

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-49562828204322878842011-03-01T19:47:00.004-05:002011-03-02T22:50:57.838-05:00

I had a rather entertaining weekend. As I had previously mentioned, I spent my Saturday at FSI taking a somewhat notorious 6-hour class called "U.S. Protocol and Representation Abroad." Oh boy! I was excited. I love hosting and entertaining, and all the formality that comes with our new job, so I simply could not wait to hear all the neat rules that govern all that in the Foreign Service. I

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-19089636794786381702011-02-25T23:40:00.002-05:002011-02-26T00:01:34.751-05:00

Ok, nothing interesting is happening in our lives right now. I mean, NOTHING!I am knees deep in Bangla study since my exams are approaching fast--I take my BEX on Thursday, and my final FSI test on March 11. Gulp...We had our second round of shots for Dhaka on Thursday, which excited me to no end since ANYTHING out of the routine life excites me nowadays--I mean, how pathetic your life has to be

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-23016277443595527072011-02-20T19:45:00.002-05:002011-02-20T20:02:06.457-05:00

This past week saw us take yet another step to bring us closer to Dhaka--we went for the first round of our required vaccinations. We got shots for rabbies, Japanese encephalitis and a bouquet of hepatitis. I was practically excited as the vaccination brought some much needed diversion in our Bangla obsessed lives. The problem with them is that your arms' muscles hurt like mad the following

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-23845848970710083702011-02-16T15:07:00.004-05:002011-03-09T16:10:13.466-05:00

Where did this week go already??? I cannot believe that it is Wednesday already.We had a pretty fun weekend here. On Saturday we took Son to the birthday party for the daughter of good friends of ours. After the initial shyness and trying to insert himself underneath my dress, Son joined the festivities once the kids started running around like mad thanks to the sugar high. He then went on to

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-66802019992359593812011-02-08T22:39:00.003-05:002011-02-08T23:03:27.489-05:00

Lately Son has developed the maddening and absurd habit to say alternatively "yes" and "no" to things. It drives both me and the Diplomat mad, while it does not seem to strike Son as odd. It goes something like this:Son: I wanna mango juice!!!! (irritated look and whiny voice)Me: Here it is! (pulls it out of the fridge with a wide smile, happy to oblige)Son: Nooooooooo (rolls on the floor)Me:

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-48036019490127042952011-02-02T22:34:00.004-05:002011-03-09T16:18:31.737-05:00

You have now taken the FSOT, and then you have spent the next two or so weeks trying desperately to remember some of the questions that you think you did wrong and google them obsessively for answers. Then you spend a week checking messages on the FSOT yahoo boards where everyone speculates wildly when the results will come out. You begin fearing that they will come out at a point when you have

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-79243682678955254782011-01-30T22:57:00.004-05:002011-03-09T16:20:07.765-05:00

This has been a pleasant weekend, filled with happy activities for Son. Who would not share. For any promised benefits. Under any threats. Whether or not the person requesting the sharing is his best friend or an attractive stranger. The answer is a firm and whiny "no." On Saturday afternoon, after his nap, the Diplomat and I took the bouncing-off-the walls child to Barnes and Noble, where the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-72692346405841882432011-01-26T20:32:00.004-05:002011-03-09T16:23:06.164-05:00

And, ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud owner of one fabulous e-mail offer to join the United Stated Foreign Service as of March 28th, 2011. YUPEEEEEEE! THIS IS HUGE!!! I intend to accept the offer the moment there is someone out there to hear me say it--to my utter dismay, the wonderful person who extends the offers had left her office early today because of the freaky snow storm we are

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-81005942572512687232011-01-22T17:04:00.003-05:002011-01-22T19:09:09.531-05:00

You have got to love winter and all the bacteria and viruses that it brings. First the Diplomat was sick on and off for 2 weeks, and then two days ago I finally fell victim to whatever cold/flu he had. I suppose this is one of the many perils of marriage and cohabitation--whatever one of you has, the other one promptly gets. As a result, our house looks like it has been a war zone--zillions of

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-75168713955131452752011-01-17T23:52:00.006-05:002011-03-09T16:26:48.021-05:00

This past Tuesday I went out to a little playdate of my own, along with three other lovely FSO spouses--we were sending one of them off to Mexico City, where her husband will be a Foreign Service Specialist (meaning, he has some mad engineering skills and will help keep the joint together). We went out to a local place, called the FrontPage, at around 6.30 pm to catch more of the Happy Hour. We

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-84426088147625018002011-01-13T14:30:00.001-05:002011-01-13T14:31:36.159-05:00

I am incredibly tickled to share with you that I was granted top security on Tuesday! With this, chances are that I will be joining the May class at FSI. Problem 1 for Year 2011 solved!

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-24582252797000439532011-01-11T16:02:00.006-05:002011-01-11T17:21:01.242-05:00

Last night was every parent's worst nightmare. Around 3 am, we were woken up by some plaintive cries for "mama" from Son's room. Since I am such a great mom, I immediately woke up a very disoriented and disheveled Diplomat and told him to go into Son's room while he was gesticulating incoherently at me go to there instead. Finally, he went and appeared to be trying to procure water for the child.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-37683574150691398822011-01-05T17:34:00.005-05:002011-01-11T17:21:17.761-05:00

Some time ago I had promised a few folks a neat narrative on the process of becoming a FSO.Before I begin, a brief departure on a different topics for all the parents out there. Have you ever had those happy, romantic dreams as newly minted parents how you will be putting your child to sleep while singing gently to her? Yeah? Yeah, well, so did I. Reality is a bit different though (yeah, I know,

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-12619996862147831062011-01-01T00:33:00.004-05:002011-01-01T03:38:36.976-05:00

We are safely back from skiing at Lake Tahoe--however trite it sounds, skiing in Heavenly was, well, heavenly. The experience there was trifold--the skiing, the company and the blizzard. Let me tell you about each one in turn:1. SkiingThis was the Diplomat's and mine first time skiing on the West Coast. The snow powder is everything it is cracked up to be. There were very people skiing and the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-42622859401302333232010-12-26T19:23:00.000-05:002010-12-26T19:58:24.109-05:00

Well, the Diplomat has gone and done it again! He lost my wallet. I just don't get it--frankly, it takes a skill to be able to lose wallets and similar possession at the rate he does it. This past Thursday it suddenly turned out that there were no classes that day. After debating whether we should spend the day with our beloved child, with a fair dose of parental guilt we took Son to daycare (

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-32454748562514691752010-12-22T21:33:00.004-05:002010-12-22T22:37:56.104-05:00

What happened to privacy in one's house is all I want to know?? I love Son to death, but I do draw a line and that line goes right in front of the bathroom. Lately, Son has picked up a new awesome habit which goes like this. Every time I decide to visit the facilities at home, I try to clandestinely slink out of the room I am in and even more quietly sneak into the bathroom for some one-on-one

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-57588881591039982772010-12-18T09:46:00.001-05:002011-03-09T16:35:37.033-05:00

This week has been the perfect illustration of what they call at FSI “no progress day,” meaning day for practice and no new material. For the Bangla class, this week was devoted to the obsessive practice of our Bengali song for the end of the year party for the SE Asian division of FSI, which was yesterday. If I may humbly say so, we were a smashing hit. Maybe it was because we gesticulated

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-40158820138995314562010-12-11T23:46:00.003-05:002011-03-09T16:37:11.721-05:00

I find it tough, though. we have two neighbours--one to the left and one to the right. The one on the right smokes disturbingly cheap cigars twice a week. The stench permeates in our apartment through our balcony door and not even Febreeze can help get rid of it. I welcome the cold weather--he has reduced his cigar smoking to once a week.The neighbor on the left has another bad habit--he/she

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-16223802121866852612010-12-06T22:30:00.005-05:002010-12-07T08:28:11.620-05:00

Since my last post, I got several questions on the so-called "diplomatic clause" in house/apartment leases. This, folks, is simple--since many diplomats tend to stay in DC for short, rather irregular periods of time in between posts, if they choose to live outside the warm, loving embrace of Oakwood housing and rent themselves something on their own, they need to be able to get out of their

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-59741111744166253512010-12-03T18:30:00.002-05:002010-12-04T11:09:27.443-05:00

Every Thursday, the Asian languages students are treated to a riveting lecture, called Area Studies. None of them can wait for the moment to come, I can assure you. I have chosen not to partake, for um, let's call them personal reasons. This past Thursday, the lecturer decided to give them some real-life experience to prepare the Fledgling Diplomats for their lives at post and told them they

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-62384775124696355582010-12-03T07:33:00.002-05:002010-12-03T07:38:21.064-05:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been asked by some readers to remove the addresses of some of the Oakwood properties --they felt I should not be disclosing where FSOs live in Washington, DC. While I feel that that information is freely available both on Oakwood's corporate site as well as on a Facebook page maintained by the State Department HR office and opened to anyone without

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-75742089376579268202010-12-01T23:04:00.009-05:002011-03-09T16:43:40.592-05:00

And as promised, some (way too) detailed information on housing during training at FSI. This is a freakishly long post, so brace yourselves! This is what happens:One sunny/snowy VERY happy day, you receive the long-coveted State Department letter in your email, titled enticingly—“Salary Offer.” Whoaaaa, you think, this is rather awesome. You burst into a spontaneous dance for a while, yelp in

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-7015235489052507042010-11-28T19:13:00.003-05:002010-11-28T19:43:18.513-05:00

This week has been truly crazy. I had intended to devote my next blogpost to housing options while training at FSI since I receive many questions on the topic, but this will turn into a mamooth post that no one will care to read. So, I promise to do that tomorrow instead. I also promise to write about the whole process of applying to join the Foreign Service in detail over the next few week.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-48012641257198607212010-11-22T19:40:00.005-05:002011-03-09T16:45:26.267-05:00

I am in that no-man's land in the FSO-hopeful life called adjudications. This is what that means and why I am (gently) bitter about it. After a person completes the numerous exams/hurdles and fills in piles of paper describing every minutia of her life in the past 10 years, she receives a conditional offer to join the United States Foreign Service. Yupee!Not so fast. Several potentially daunting

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-82101552334664147442010-11-17T12:20:00.003-05:002010-11-22T19:40:10.478-05:00

I wanted to take the opportunity to talk about the Foreign Service daycare facility and how fabulous it is! These people have made Son so happy and my life so easy plus I get so many questions on the subject that I decided to summarize the info.1. It is right on the premises of FSI and the shuttles that take FSOs from their housing buildings to FSI in the mornings stop right in front of the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-76315531089106805222010-11-15T23:40:00.004-05:002010-11-16T00:11:46.964-05:00

After a busy Saturday which ended up with another heated game of Taboo (men vs. women, which the men badly lost), the Diplomat and I decided to go to a pretty local park and BBQ. We envisioned hours of gazing into each others eyes, holding hands while watching our prodigy frolicking in the grass and delighting us with his angelic smile and cherubic laughter, the meat sizzling on the grill and

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-14698300405546313022010-11-12T23:53:00.003-05:002010-11-13T00:03:28.417-05:00

Today I had all the machines in my house do work for me: I was running both the washer and the dryer with our weekly laundry, while at the same time the dishwasher was humming pleasantly along, the breadmaker was making the Diplomat's favorite bread, and I was sitting down, ironing the first load of the laundry while watching a DVR-ed episode of "Grey's Anatomy." Yes, I live in robot-dreamland

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-29482402116901041102010-11-11T10:57:00.005-05:002010-11-11T11:28:32.206-05:00

It is amazing the difference just a few years can make in your age. Last night I hosted a particularly successful dinner party as a good-bye to one of the Diplomat's colleagues who is leaving for Niger in a couple of weeks. The party must have been good since the last guests left at 3 am. And this is where age hit me badly--at 1.30 am, I had to excuse myself from the chatty Fledgling Diplomats

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-70168309275917055002010-11-05T16:04:00.005-04:002010-11-05T16:43:06.941-04:00

There is nothing more refreshing than going to the (hot) doctor and him calling you "young lady" on a rainy day. So, I was pretty happy yesterday about that. I was also very happy that I did not have a strep throat, which is what Son currently has.Son, by the way, has entered a pretty crappy stage in his life where almost every answer from him is a "no." He sounds worse than the Catholic church,

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-45019331644024267662010-11-01T18:55:00.005-04:002011-03-09T21:33:52.025-05:00

So, the good news is that I have passed the neurotic Russian oral test I took last week. Which makes me feel pretty darn good about myself. The downside of my prep work on the subject is that I keep dreaming in Russian. Not gut.Anyways, this past week I took a break from my crazy and meaningless work project and devoted myself exclusively to Bangla, the Diplomat, Son and, to a lesser extent, Fat

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-40498537996057040602010-10-24T23:01:00.008-04:002011-03-09T11:56:29.519-05:00

It has been a while, I know. My life has been a tad crazy, if I may say so.Last weekend, the Diplomat and I dragged our poor child to the Shenandoah Valley, where we spent a weekend playing tennis, getting massages and drinking with a couple of good friends.In our defense, Son had a blast playing among the fallen leaves around the rented house and experienced his first pumpkin carving, courtesy

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-68041008509513358252010-10-15T15:37:00.003-04:002010-10-15T16:46:49.993-04:00

Bangla classes are starting to get more complicated and the Diplomat is trying to shine as much as he can by using Hindi words in his sentences, hoping that they will magically sound like Bangla. Sometimes that happens and he gets really happy. This past week he wrote a particularly complicated sentence on the blackboard, which was more or less correct, and beyond himself with pride, he actually

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-19903648646468565492010-10-12T14:53:00.003-04:002010-10-12T16:31:49.809-04:00

This was a nice, pleasant weekend, in which I tried to cram as much errands as possible, while bonding fiercly with Son. So, I took him to Costco. One thing that struck me (pleasantly so) was the sheer amount of cars with diplomatic decals there. I recognized the cars of several Nordic countries (ever so thrifty, those Danes!), as well as some East and South Asian minivans filled with happy

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-25370599920723249612010-10-07T13:37:00.003-04:002010-10-07T14:07:53.368-04:00

This has been a delightful week in bengali class. We have learned exquisite words like "tiktiki" (lizard) and "jok" (leech), which I imagine will be key in my life in Bangladesh. We have also learned to construct complicated sentences like, "All the people in the world from , I the tallest am," or "I, of all my brothers and sisters, tastiest am." Apparently, "tasty" doubles as "witty" in bengali.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-14882674729401033092010-10-01T17:10:00.002-04:002010-10-01T17:54:57.365-04:00

Welcome to another chapter of my circus life. Monday began with plenty of Indian/South Asian food and banghra dancing in the early am of the day as the SE Asian division of the Foreign Service Institute threw a party for the end of Ramadan and celebrated Eid. Most of the teachers, young, old, male, female, danced their butts off after the feast, dragging most of the timid, stuffed students to the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-27681110151335592572010-09-26T23:48:00.002-04:002010-09-27T00:15:35.736-04:00

And so my life has become a three-ring circus. During the week I attend 5 hrs of intense bengali language classes from 7.30 am to 12.30, then the Diplomat swiftly drives me to downtown DC to begin working from 1 pm to about 8ish pm, after which I dash home to catch a glimpse of Son primly pajama-ed and pleasantly smelling of baby shampoo. If I am on time, I get to read a book with him in bed. If

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-15857864182414121192010-09-20T22:37:00.002-04:002010-09-20T23:00:32.129-04:00

Well, folks, I can safely say that this was one crazy weekend yet again. The madness started on Thursday and unfolded like this:1. Me marinating 6 lbs of chicken for tandoori grilling at 1 am on Thursday night, after we came from a romantic dinner celebrating my birthday with the Diplomat.2. Friday: cooking industrial quantities of Indian food, partying with fellow FSOs and celebrating our future

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-15277118891684781032010-09-16T08:43:00.004-04:002010-09-16T11:20:37.869-04:00

This may sound somewhat selfish to you, but when I was pregnant, my due date was the day before my birthday, and I thought--"Oh, no, I don't want Son to be born on the same day!" Some people said that it would be the greatest gift on my day. But I always thought that everyone should have their special day, and if both Son and I had the same special day, our individual importance would blend

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-32579927114358318622010-09-14T08:04:00.002-04:002010-09-14T08:25:06.911-04:00

Have you ever found it tough to discipline your child because right after they have done something bad they stand in front of you with the most hilarious expression on their face? Could be fear, could be mischief or pure puzzlement-why is momma angry? Well, folks, I often find myself unable to keep a serious, angry face as Son stands in front of me, blond locks flying everywhere, half a cracked

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-2440172753826116322010-09-09T22:13:00.002-04:002010-09-09T22:33:40.500-04:00

This week will go down in history as the week I got the guts to get rid of Son's pacifier. To him, the pacifier was the most valuable thing in the whole wide world. He used it to go to sleep and was not allowed to use it anywhere else. However, as he grew older and considerably wiser, he found a way to steal his binkies from the bed. So, for the past few days he took on walking around the

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-9852132605992018172010-09-06T16:10:00.004-04:002010-09-06T16:36:22.905-04:00

Believe it or not, Son turned 2 this past Saturday. We celebrated with gusto with new and old friends, and, as luck would have it, with my inlaws who are visiting us for the month of September. It was a memorable affair, filled with sangria, noise, sugar and gazzilion small Matchbox cars. It was catered by Costco, that lovely haven of our consumerism. I owe them a lot. FYI--to my delight, Costco

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-44751750008696120082010-09-02T23:46:00.002-04:002010-09-02T23:50:20.601-04:00

Just a brief note to let those who are waiting to hear know that I passed the Foreign Service Oral Assessment today. It was one INTENSE experience and that is ALL I am going to say for now. Happy it is over, and now prepping for my Russian phone exam. I am exhausted. More tomorrow.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-6242761763492543832010-09-01T20:28:00.003-04:002010-09-01T20:51:30.724-04:00

So, I got a job. To which I go every day and all. Very exciting stuff. But it gives me the chance to hang out in downtown Washington, DC, which is rather interesting. This is what I see most often in the streets, in order of highest frequency:--people with various types of chains dangling from their necks, on which they carry ID cards, a thousand keys, more ID cards, access cards, key fobs, metro

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-69396703069303725552010-08-28T23:10:00.002-04:002010-08-28T23:44:03.461-04:00

This has definitely been one of THOSE days. This is what went down, in this order:7.15 am-the Diplomat woke me up to tell me he was leaving for NYC (believe it or not, we STILL have crap in the apt there that we imagine we need here so he is driving there for the weekend to pick it up). I mumble incoherently, buried under the sheets in the darkened room. The Diplomat decides to ask me a few inane

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-42030101630037542582010-08-27T18:30:00.005-04:002010-08-27T20:27:13.471-04:00

Well, folks, it is official--we attended the infamous Flag Day today at the Foreign Service Institute. A fabulous ceremony if there ever was one--rarely has a place been packed with so much tension and neurotic laughter, while the Fledgling Diplomats and their enthusiastic spouses were awaiting to hear where they will be sent to serve. Do you know where Dhaka is? It's in Bangladesh and that is

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-90865598916308666052010-08-26T22:56:00.004-04:002010-08-26T23:15:32.989-04:00

You don't know what physical labor is until you shovel some gravel under the hot sun. I know. I did some serious shoveling today. Then I used a sledge hammer to hammer some stakes in the ground. I love Habitat for Humanity. Especially since two fascinated male youths (about 20 years old each) stood there, staring and gawking for over half an hour next to me while I was shoveling the gravel for

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-15194806385933995722010-08-23T12:42:00.007-04:002011-03-09T21:37:31.328-05:00

Another wild weekend in Arlington, VA is over. In just two short days we managed to squeeze in pool, geese, BBQ, camels, groceries, several particularly involved tantrums, two thrift stores, feeding lambs from a milk bottle, two study group sessions, four fried catfish, friends, friends and more friends and a feisty game of Taboo! Phew, thank God it's Monday :).On Saturday, our good Italian

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-64086435935137770312010-08-19T21:01:00.002-04:002010-08-19T21:28:50.871-04:00

The Diplomat went to a class overnight retreat this morning--the Fledgling Diplomats are having a sleepover in a place mysteriously called "The Woods." I wonder if it is in the woods? I am not sure what they are doing there, but I know for sure that there are Follies and a great bar (the Diplomat just called me from a basketball court (???) to tell me that "the party is just staring!)" So, if any

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-16744323833960902962010-08-16T23:02:00.004-04:002010-08-16T23:30:42.860-04:00

I am happy to report that the precious 600 lbs of craptastic domestic goods I was so eagerly expecting is finally here. It took ONLY 2.5 weeks to get it from NYC to Arlington, VA. I suspect they were pushing it along the highway on tiny trolleys. All seems to be well, except for one box whether a massive bag of powdered sugar had spilled, along with a box of Splenda (it is almost as if the two

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-71834735400849471712010-08-12T11:34:00.004-04:002010-08-12T22:40:15.340-04:00

I thought I had seen it all. And I have seen some preeeeetttty weirdo things out there. Well, folks, today I went to a pet store to get food for Fat Cat and I saw a "Snuggly for Dogs--keeps you warm while your paws are free!" Well. Apparently someone out there thought that a dog might need this. Amazing.I am excited because tomorrow the Diplomat and I are meeting with his Career Development

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-1217221106322610312010-08-10T12:21:00.004-04:002010-08-10T12:51:40.566-04:00

I have spent the past few days locked in the Foreign Service Institute, watching videos from various posts to help us with the decision. Sadly, most videos are made by kids. Yup, kids. Apparently, there is some program within the FS to have FS kids make videos of their lives, and management has deemed those representative enough so that it now offers them to budding and bidding diplomats deciding

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-4232808651695349112010-08-06T18:16:00.002-04:002010-08-06T18:35:01.399-04:00

I can tell you that the most often heard expression in my life these days is "security clearance." Everyone keeps talking about it. Everywhere. I almost asked the cleaning lady today--Do you have security clearance? (Btw, I am sure she does...). A good friend of mine with whom I had drinks last night was telling me about the new love interest in her life--without thinking, I blurted out, "oh,

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-67448167717864349632010-08-03T20:50:00.000-04:002010-08-03T20:51:33.575-04:00

And a hearty Virginia hello to you all! We have safely landed in Arlington and have slowly settled in our fabulous corporate housing. Ok, I lied about the fabulosity of it all. It is not bad. It is, however, all white and that is starting to grate on me just a tad—the walls are white, the towels are white, the bed linen is white, the lamps, the tiles, the bathrooms, the floors—yup, all white.

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-65547267629059719612010-07-31T11:48:00.001-04:002010-07-31T11:51:03.237-04:00

And so, here I find myself today, Saturday July 31, 2010, sitting on my desk in my NYC apartment for one last time. In just a few hours I will fly to DC with Son, and the Diplomat is already on the road with Fat Cat and all my shoes. The State Department movers came in yesterday to pack 600 lbs of my most important things—I can see that on the inventory list half of that is apparently classified

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-81990712658611282102010-07-27T16:29:00.002-04:002010-07-27T17:00:29.602-04:00

We finally got word of where we will be living for the next few months in Washington, DC. High time, you know, since we are moving there in 5 days!!! We are moving to Ballston, Arlington, VA in a spectacular high-rise. So, let me run you through our agenda the next few days:Thursday--we leave Bulgaria and land in NYC that same night. The State Department graciously allows its new hires to stay at

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-45016277875972104382010-07-24T11:29:00.006-04:002011-03-09T21:41:13.743-05:00

Once upon a time, when I was a foolish person with no kid (and a lot more free time), I thought that I would be a super mom who would manage to separate her social life and her time with her child. I imagined myself as a cool, slick woman who took care of her baby during the day and then went out in heels at night, or traveled the world with her husband, chasing wild animals in Africa or admiring

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8280837764606186708.post-45743737285021436472010-07-20T19:32:00.001-04:002010-07-23T05:38:16.041-04:00

Something extraordinary happened to me yesterday that has left in me in such awe that I can’t stop thinking about it. As I mentioned before, yesterday was our wedding anniversary and the Diplomat and I, dressed to the nines, decided to take a stroll to Fontana di Trevi, which we had not yet seen and find a nice little place for dinner. We found the fountain, which was indeed breathtaking (as were

The Diplomatic Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05518644767093446416noreply@blogger.com3