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 somewhat. Son agreed, put his feet down (literally--he was a breech baby) and made an appearance 2 weeks before this day. Good boy!
He gave me the great gift of starting the day wonderfully. No midnight wakings, and getting up with a smile and not a single, tiny tantrum, and a pee in the potty. Well, what could a mom want more??? OK, a Ferrari, but let's not get carried away...
I am getting myself a piano today! I can hardly contain myself.
I am getting a bit frustrated with my future employer, FSI. I have decided to take Bengali classes together with the Diplomat at the institute. All along spouses are told what a great asset we are and how we are encouraged to take language classes. That there are many options for working spouses, like early morning crash classes, Rosetta stone, distance learning, what have you. well, folks, not in Bengali, that precious commodity of a language. I actually must take Bengali, if next June I am to join the Diplomat in Dhaka as an FSO myself, so that we can be a so-called "tandem couple." So, we have been trying to figure out a way for me to take the Bengali classes, while still working. Everything is moving at a snail's pace.
At least I don't have to go through medical clearance as I already have one from last year, when the Diplomat was getting his. Security clearance, on the other hand, is a whole different matter. They haven't even started that one yet. Rumor has it that the time to complete those has been reduced to 3 months (it took 8 months for the Diplomat, but then again, he is a suspicious element), which gives me hope that i will be able to go to Dhaka as an FSO after all. So, Bengali must be learned....what to do?
Showing posts with label FSOA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FSOA. Show all posts
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Foreign Service Oral Assessment day and Son turns 2
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 in Virginia carries wine (not so in NY, a source of eternal aggravation to us).
The night ended somewhat questionably for the birthday boy, as he was utterly incapable of sharing his cars, even with the girls. Surrounded by about 20 small cars, he would not allow ANYONE else to touch them and tried to protectively snatch and carry all of them at once. It was not exactly possible and the other kids were playing with the cars, spilling from his clutched arms, which drove Son to a frenzy. He had to be removed from the party scene and brought upstairs to the apartment with his grandparents. Good times.
I am still internalizing the news of my passing of the FSOA. It has been a long process, and it still does not appear real in my head. Let me tell you about the day of Oral Assessment without breaking the obligatory NDA. It is an intense day, comprised of three parts--a group exercise (think model UN) with 5 other nervous folk whose hands shook uncontrollably whenever they spoke, an interview with stern current FSOs, and a case management memo writing exercise, which is as daunting as writing War and Peace. The FSO hopeful has about an hour between each fun part, during which he or she neurotically swaps stories with the other freaked candidates. Once all three parts were over, all of us sat down in the waiting room, our nerves tight as Stradivarius strings. It did feel a bit like a reality show, say "FSO Survivor" and we all waiting to hear which one of us was voted off the island. All of us kept talking endlessly so as not to permit the thought of the results to enter our heads. Business cards were swapped, marriage stories exchanged, jittery giggle puncturing the air, and every single time someone would open a door, all of us would jump up in the air in anticipation. It was possibly the most nerve-racking experience of my life. Even Flag Day wasn't so intense. I was one of the last 5 people called (out of 22) and rumor had it that the last people standing were the ones that pass. I can't vouch that it is true, but most of us left in the end passed.
I will be taking a Russian proficiency test soon to boost my score--my passing score wasn't the most spectacular, I admit. So, off to hit the books again. Ugh.
The night ended somewhat questionably for the birthday boy, as he was utterly incapable of sharing his cars, even with the girls. Surrounded by about 20 small cars, he would not allow ANYONE else to touch them and tried to protectively snatch and carry all of them at once. It was not exactly possible and the other kids were playing with the cars, spilling from his clutched arms, which drove Son to a frenzy. He had to be removed from the party scene and brought upstairs to the apartment with his grandparents. Good times.
I am still internalizing the news of my passing of the FSOA. It has been a long process, and it still does not appear real in my head. Let me tell you about the day of Oral Assessment without breaking the obligatory NDA. It is an intense day, comprised of three parts--a group exercise (think model UN) with 5 other nervous folk whose hands shook uncontrollably whenever they spoke, an interview with stern current FSOs, and a case management memo writing exercise, which is as daunting as writing War and Peace. The FSO hopeful has about an hour between each fun part, during which he or she neurotically swaps stories with the other freaked candidates. Once all three parts were over, all of us sat down in the waiting room, our nerves tight as Stradivarius strings. It did feel a bit like a reality show, say "FSO Survivor" and we all waiting to hear which one of us was voted off the island. All of us kept talking endlessly so as not to permit the thought of the results to enter our heads. Business cards were swapped, marriage stories exchanged, jittery giggle puncturing the air, and every single time someone would open a door, all of us would jump up in the air in anticipation. It was possibly the most nerve-racking experience of my life. Even Flag Day wasn't so intense. I was one of the last 5 people called (out of 22) and rumor had it that the last people standing were the ones that pass. I can't vouch that it is true, but most of us left in the end passed.
I will be taking a Russian proficiency test soon to boost my score--my passing score wasn't the most spectacular, I admit. So, off to hit the books again. Ugh.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Flip-flops and military uniforms in Washington, DC
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 card pockets with metro cards in them and other curious objects. I sometimes wonder how they manage to carry the load
--women in flip-flops, whether they are wearing suits, skirts, miniscule shorts, pants, sweats, whatever
--men in army uniforms
--men wearing shirts and ties
--panting tourists
I like the uniforms.
Son had the experience every child in daycare dreads--he was the last kid today and the lady there had to stay and wait for us for extra 35 mins. Everything with drop-off and pick up went wrong today. I had to get to work ungodly early so that I can leave early to pick him up since the Diplomat had to be in DC the whole day (rather than in Arlington, where the FSI and the daycare are located). The Diplomat drove Son to daycare in the morning. It is a 8 min drive. 20 mins later I get an angry call from him, during which he announces that he is hopelessly lost on the way to the daycare. Um, what? Keep in mind he has been traveling that road every day for the past one month, whether by shuttle, by car or on foot. Plus, I heard the GPS in the background. I am just saying...
Then, in the evening, I met the Diplomat in the metro--he was going to pick up the car from home and then go pick up Son. Naturally, there had to be a problem--someone passed out in the metro car, apparently, so for over 20 mins no trains were coming or going. I am entirely unsure why--I cannot imagine the sick person to have been sick on both sides of the track. Finally, when I was mumbling that if an air-conditioned train does not come soon, they will deal with a whole lot more sick people in the metro, a train came on the opposite track. We were assured that it was going in our direction. We boarded like a herd of disoriented but rather irritable sheep. Then the train went in the opposite direction. Even more irritated, we got off at the next stop and after we saw the massive crowds of people waiting to board whatever came their way at the opposite platform, we decided to catch a cab instead. Mistake. Traffic was insane. After 15 mins we passed by the original metro station where we boarded the train and the Diplomat decided to get out of the cab, go in and see if he can catch a train while I go by cab. The idea was the one of us will get there sooner since we are already late to pick up Son. Finally, traffic moved and I made it to the daycare. The Diplomat showed up soon thereafter--naturally, the moment we left the metro, all the backlog had cleared up. Son was sitting lonely in the principal's office, eating Chex Mix with an evil expression. Fun times.
I also would like to mention that tomorrow is D DAY for my orals. May the force be with me! I can't wait for all this prep work and studying to be over, so that I can start my Dhaka prep and finally get back to knitting a sweater I started last winter. Though I am not entirelly sure that I will need it in Bangladesh. OH well. Stay tuned...
--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 card pockets with metro cards in them and other curious objects. I sometimes wonder how they manage to carry the load
--women in flip-flops, whether they are wearing suits, skirts, miniscule shorts, pants, sweats, whatever
--men in army uniforms
--men wearing shirts and ties
--panting tourists
I like the uniforms.
Son had the experience every child in daycare dreads--he was the last kid today and the lady there had to stay and wait for us for extra 35 mins. Everything with drop-off and pick up went wrong today. I had to get to work ungodly early so that I can leave early to pick him up since the Diplomat had to be in DC the whole day (rather than in Arlington, where the FSI and the daycare are located). The Diplomat drove Son to daycare in the morning. It is a 8 min drive. 20 mins later I get an angry call from him, during which he announces that he is hopelessly lost on the way to the daycare. Um, what? Keep in mind he has been traveling that road every day for the past one month, whether by shuttle, by car or on foot. Plus, I heard the GPS in the background. I am just saying...
Then, in the evening, I met the Diplomat in the metro--he was going to pick up the car from home and then go pick up Son. Naturally, there had to be a problem--someone passed out in the metro car, apparently, so for over 20 mins no trains were coming or going. I am entirely unsure why--I cannot imagine the sick person to have been sick on both sides of the track. Finally, when I was mumbling that if an air-conditioned train does not come soon, they will deal with a whole lot more sick people in the metro, a train came on the opposite track. We were assured that it was going in our direction. We boarded like a herd of disoriented but rather irritable sheep. Then the train went in the opposite direction. Even more irritated, we got off at the next stop and after we saw the massive crowds of people waiting to board whatever came their way at the opposite platform, we decided to catch a cab instead. Mistake. Traffic was insane. After 15 mins we passed by the original metro station where we boarded the train and the Diplomat decided to get out of the cab, go in and see if he can catch a train while I go by cab. The idea was the one of us will get there sooner since we are already late to pick up Son. Finally, traffic moved and I made it to the daycare. The Diplomat showed up soon thereafter--naturally, the moment we left the metro, all the backlog had cleared up. Son was sitting lonely in the principal's office, eating Chex Mix with an evil expression. Fun times.
I also would like to mention that tomorrow is D DAY for my orals. May the force be with me! I can't wait for all this prep work and studying to be over, so that I can start my Dhaka prep and finally get back to knitting a sweater I started last winter. Though I am not entirelly sure that I will need it in Bangladesh. OH well. Stay tuned...
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