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Posts from the ‘Family’ Category

a cure for grief and jet lag

Hope and denial – two powerful sides of the same coin. Until the very end, D held onto the slim possibility that he wouldn’t have to make the flight he knew, in the depth of his heart, was inevitable. As the weeks and months dragged on, it was possible to refuse to acknowledge his parents’ increasingly dire reports and to hope against hope that D’s grandma would hang on a few more months, that he would get to see her again this summer, that she’d live long enough to meet her third great-grandchild.

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bittersweet symphony

Parenthood is a bittersweet experience. The highs are vertiginous. Feeling loved, needed, and cherished by a tiny human who depends on you for his everything brings indescribable joy. The lows can by dismal. It’s not the whining, screaming, and kicking, nor the nights of sleepless exhaustion that leave the deepest scars. It’s the fickle rejection. Crafty little monsters that they are, from a young age children intuit our weakest pressure points and exploit them mercilessly. Loving one moment, distant the next. Few things sting quite as much as watching your child snuggle someone else while he tells you that you are not his friend or screams bloody murder if you want to give him a hug and kiss.

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giving thanks

This was our sixth Thanksgiving since joining the Foreign Service. With the exception of last year, we have spent all of them overseas.

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when the cat’s away

Secretary Kerry’s visit to Kigali and all the prep that it entailed is only part of the reason our blog has been silent of late. We also took our first family trip around Rwanda the weekend before the Montreal Protocol. When we returned to Kigali, S simply repacked her bags, first going to Nairobi for two days, and then traveling back to Washington, D.C. for a weeklong conference.

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dog days of summer

We’re both adventurers at heart, always seeking out new terrain to explore. We caught the travel bug young and clearly haven’t shaken it yet, but given our nomadic lifestyle, there is something inherently appealing – even comforting – about returning to the same place year after year. At least S feels that way. Three summers ago, she spent a week with her family on Deer Isle – an idyllic spot on the Maine coast – and has returned two of the last three years despite the fact that D has yet to be able to join or even make up his mind about the annual tradition.

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Munchkin’s musings

“We need to buy more carrots at the Embassy,” Munchkin exclaimed after fishing the last of the thinly shredded orange vegetables out of S’s salad bowl, tilting his head back, and swallowing them with relish. Wrong venue, but how many two-and-a-half-year-olds have the word “embassy” in their vocabulary?

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back to Africa

Some hiccups with our house notwithstanding, we are beginning to feel settled. While there are some stark differences between Kenya and Rwanda, there are plenty of similarities as well. Also, we both have spent time in Kigali previously, so the move does not feel nearly as disorienting as going to Moldova from Kenya felt for S, for example. The transition has been a little more challenging for our little ones, however.

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picking up where we left off

After wrapping up our travel posts, we wound up taking a bit of an extended blogging hiatus. We left off on the eve of Munchkin’s second birthday, so it makes sense to pick up the thread there. Both sets of grandparents came down to DC for a long weekend; we’ve since gotten a few nudge-nudge emails from relatives wondering why we’ve been remiss in sharing pictures of the celebration…

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toddler transitions

We returned to the United States at a crucial juncture in Munchkin’s development. Not only did his linguistic abilities explode soon after we arrived home, but also his personality and mannerisms went through a noticeable transition.

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the persistence of memory

D’s grandfather was an avid photographer. He purchased his first camera in the postwar years and always dreamed of living in an apartment that would be big enough to house a small darkroom. This dream, crushed by the realities of life in Soviet Russia, never came to fruition, but this did not stop D’s grandfather from faithfully chronicling his family through the years.

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