Last R & R

Last week I told the kids I had to go to the airport to pick up a temporary duty officer arriving for the World Cup. It wasn't a total lie. Waking up to find their Dad in the kitchen :

Olivia had missed two weeks of school due to illness, so I made them all go, except Jack, who basically just plays xBox and sleeps now that he's done with high school. We've spent the last few days sitting by the pool and just generally hanging out. Boring, normal stuff that is better than Christmas after being apart for so long.

 Now, don't judge me, but have you guys played Cards Against Humanity? I win the Worst Parent Award for letting my kids play this, but it is horrible/awesome.

Selfie from bed.

My bruises are mostly better, but I will probably have some little scars on my legs. I forgot to cancel my massage lady last week and she just kept turning my arms and legs over looking for a place to massage and clucking her tongue. It was a terrible waste of money.

The mundane becomes flippin' sweet when we are all home together. We still don't have an onward assignment, but the State Department has beaten me down so much that I don't even care anymore. This week my youngest babies will turn 11 and my oldest baby will graduate high school. The day after graduation is prom, and the whole family gets to go. This is a South America thing. Pretty cool, no?

And you guys, can I just say how smugly happy I was to go to work today and leave Mitch home in charge of a sick kid, two loads of laundry, and a dirty kitchen?

Another Week Under Our Belts

Okay, so I sort of got hit by a car last week, but more on that in a minute. Look what Olivia made me for Mother's Day! Gluten Free Cherry Cupcakes. They were delish. Henry and Grace made me huevos rancheros in bed, and Jack ran to the store to pick me up some champagne (yay, Brazil!), which I drank with my friend Katie while her husband made tacos for us. All in all, not a terrible Mother's Day, even though I was missing my mom and my mate.

Jack has been studying non-stop for his IB finals. We haven't seen him come out of his room for weeks. As of Thursday, he will be a high school graduate. We're having a bonfire with his friends so they can burn their school work on Friday. 

Over the weekend, my friend and I had a garage sale together. I've never actually had a garage sale, because, you know, it's work. I'd rather dump my stuff off at a charity than do work. We hired a lady though, because garage sales are big business here. She did everything, pricing, collecting, and haggling. We just hung around watching to make sure nothing got stolen. On my watch, someone stole Henry's PSP because the snacks were inside the house, so that's where I was, yo. I made a ton of money. I'm not kidding. Thousands. Which really made my aching body not ache so much. I'm going to buy myself something pretty, like....legwarmers for my arms. You'll see why in a minute.

Garage Sale-fie. Get it? 

The worst thing about the garage sale was being on my feet for two days straight after my car...t accident. That's right, technically I was hit by a grocery cart. I was walking to my car with my groceries when the car in question hit my cart hard enough to send me flying over the top of the cart into a pile of gravel. You can actually kind of see the gravel-shaped bruises on my arm.  Pretty pretty?

My whole body is beautiful like this, except for my face, which I protected just in time to break out in stress eczema. Anyway, nothing broke except my pride. And my eggs. The guy who hit me tore off, but the grocery store people could not have been nicer. They got me all new groceries for free and helped me up like I was a little old lady. It made me sad a little, because I knew I would never be able to go back to that store again. Someone at work told me it was Leg Appreciation Day today, so here ya go:

My vow lasted until later that night, when I had to make a mad dash (and when I say mad dash, I mean gingerly tiptoeing) to get coffee beans so I could survive the garage sale the next morning. I wore a hoodie though, so I don't think anyone recognized me. I hope.

In other news, we still don't have an onward assignment, despite me trying my very hardest to get sent out of here by car attack. Also, the darlings of Afghanistan have begun their spring offensive, so there's that to worry about. At least I look totally hawt for when Mitch comes home to visit at the end of the month. 

*crickets

They Survived!

My girls made it home (sans baby turtles, sadly), exhausted, a little sunburned, and brimming with happy stories. Olivia filled me in on all the animal contact they had, while Grace filled me in on all the fifth grade girl drama. I'm pretty sure Olivia didn't comb her hair even once, but she didn't get sick or get a migraine, which is a small miracle. For about a week after they returned home they were a little prickly with me, as in, they weren't their usual cuddly selves. They were far too busy putting on lipgloss and writing in their journals. Finally, I called bullshit and told them they had to go back to being my babies and snuggle with me every day. It was a relief for all of us when they agreed. Especially Henry, who was stuck being the stand-in snuggler. 

The girls may have been fine, but I developed some kind of allergic reaction to something. Maybe I'm allergic to nuts all of a sudden, or maybe I'm allergic to being left by my loved ones, but you guys, these lips? They were about twice as big as they were in this picture.

Mitch did not seem at all turned on by my new look. In fact, he unromantically told me to increase my life insurance. Here is our messaging chain about my meeting with the insurance company:

Reeeeal nice. It took a few days and a giant shot in my ass for my lips to go down, but that didn't stop me and the boys from eating sushi every night the girls were gone. So what if food and water kept dribbling out of my mouth? I've got no one to impress.

Nothing else is new. Including knowing our next assignment. Our embassy wants us to pack out before the World Cup, but I'm sorry to say they are stuck with us. Oh! Something is new. My speeding tickets came in the mail: