We are living in a hotel. I had forgotten my reality, that we are in fact on our 5th week of living in hotels. This is a rather unusual hotel because a significant number of the guests work in the same department as Danny. Most people here have just come back from living in a foreign country and are staying here for several months while they prepare for the next assignment. The kids here are different. They speak several languages; they climb trees and wander unsupervised, walking around with their heads held high, opening doors for others like tiny little diplomats. On the playground, they act out intense battles with nerf crossbows, sometimes dressed as obscure Star Wars characters. Nobody comments, as if that were common playground attire. On the tennis court their game morphs fluidly into one involving scooters, balls, and walkie-talkies. Most of these self-confident kids don't live anyplace long enough to waste time trying to figure out what is cool or who is in the in-crowd. They live in the moment, personalities without the filters of self-consciousness, and any kid who jumps into their imaginary scenario is carried right along into the action. I feel like I am surrounded by Dominics.
Kids aren't the only unusual thing around here- Danny called me into the living room a few nights ago, alarmed that he had caught a creature that looked like something out of Lord of the Rings. He seemed genuinely concerned that this creature was not earthly. It was in fact, a centipede. Centipedes aside, things are better than I expected. Our kids are getting older and that makes life easier even if it makes me sad. People are less likely to stare at me with four kids trailing behind me than the four babies that I brought the first time we came to live near D.C. Danny leaves for work by 5 am to take the first metro into town. He's in bed before 10 every evening. But he's home by 3 in the afternoons and the kids love that. That's an extra three hours of Papi per day! We miss our familiar routines though. Gigi peeing the bed is an ordeal that includes calling in room service. A lack of routine means more chances for mishaps. Gigi took advantage of my distraction the last time the maintenance man came and hid my phone in the pantry. I was in the middle of a text conversation with my friend so I was anxious to find it. In the meanwhile, Dominic was yelling, "How do you spell 'equatorial?'" over Noemie complaining that Dominic took her pen, over Gigi whining that she wanted a snack... So thankful for these soundproof walls. Thankful for the new carpet too. It looks like bean sprouts, which reminds me of my friend Heather. I miss my friends. Not in the home-sick, blubbery, crawl-up-in-a-couch-and-eat-nothing-but-icecream-for-days kind of way, but sometimes I get close.
I've been reading a really great book on education lately, the kind that crosses your mind when you watch the Libertarian political debate or when you brush your teeth. It's a paradigm shifter. I would recommend it to everyone, especially educators (which most of us are in some capacity, I think).
Noemie is now singing the Star Wars theme song to block out Dominic's voice who is arguing that she doesn't respect him. The book is "A Thomas Jefferson Education" which obviously, my children lack.
We spent our first two weeks here house hunting. Day 1 of house hunting was a bit discouraging. We were in Burke, about 17 miles from Danny's office, where homes in our budget average 1500 sq ft, are built in 1980s and generally carpet top to bottom with few updates to kitchen and lighting. The next day we focused on Ashburn, about 25 miles from Danny's office, an area developed within the last 10-15 years. By our third day of searching, we had dragged our poor, pregnant real estate agent up and down through countless flights of stairs at over 20 tri-level properties. She didn't seem the worse for wear but I was starting to hate my own indecision and pickiness so I picked the loveliest of the bunch, signed off all the paperwork and submitted the application fee, then went home and had an anxiety attack. We waited out the week and gladly surrendered our claim when the owner tried to negotiate an earlier move-in date. I had not trusted in the Lord to find the perfect place and I had settled too soon.
The next week our agent went on vacation. Maybe my fault. So we got a substitute agent and went out again. Too dark...too much carpet...no outdoor space... One occupied home had an Indian family staring silently at us as we walked through- the entire middle level smelled like curry, and the bottom floor had a room full of utility shelving overflowing with shoes (that smelled like fish), and a very large, glowing Hindu shrine. A friend of mine tried to comfort me saying, "You'll only be there for a year!" But then what? Maybe it's Bangladesh! Maybe it's... more D.C.! We found a place yesterday that seemed perfect. We are still waiting to hear if we got it. Ultimately I know God is in control.
These are more of my friends and I miss them. But I'm not crying.
I also miss having pedicured feet. Not...crying....
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