On raising a Third Culture Kid

… even if he’s still just a baby.

Raising a child abroad was one of aspects that appealed to us about this lifestyle, although I totally respect that there are drawbacks that could potentially scar our kid for life. I guess we’ll have to weigh in on that later. Third Culture Kids (TCKs if your brain can handle another acronym) are children who are raised in a culture other than their parents’ (in our case, American) for a significant part of their early development years. If you’re a glass half full kind of person, Third Culture Kids get to soak up lots of different cultures which is really cool. For those in the half empty camp, these kids may never feel like they truly belong in any of those cultures and will forever wander the Earth as outsiders. Tres and I are optimistic about what kind of life we can offer Osito, but he will most certainly have his own opinions on this. We are aiming for resilient, cultured, fluent in a few different languages, and as sweet as all the other Foreign Service kiddos we meet, but we realize it could just as easily backfire into confused, illiterate in several languages, and cursing us as an angsty teenager for ruining his life. He’ll probably curse us an angsty teenager either way, so we’ll give this our best shot!

In Osito’s first year of life he has lived in Massachusetts, Virginia, Ciudad Juarez, and he spent over a month staying at our parents’ in New Hampshire. He’s only a baby, but I do think he’s resilient. He seems to thrive in new situations and he takes changes in time zones and plane rides (eight flights his first year!) in stride. He eats everything we put in front of him and may even have a preference towards spicy food. I sometimes feel guilty that he doesn’t have the sweet woodland nursery I dreamed of and I worry that with so much change he won’t feel secure, but we are his constants in an environment that is constantly changing. I didn’t plan on it, but it has been a gift to stay home with him and be able to add on part time hours as we were both ready. His father’s work hours allow us to  eat breakfast and dinner together as a family every day, something that would rarely happen for us back in Massachusetts. I’m hoping that those strong attachments count for something.

As far as language acquisition goes, his first word was “Mama,” followed by “hola,” then “Dada.” His receptive language is better and he quickly points to his head when we ask for it in Spanish. He loves to high five in Spanish (“chócala” which translates to “crush it”) and he responds appropriately to other Spanish phrases like signing for food when I ask if he’s hungry and stopping in his tracks when I tell him to be careful. On the days when it was really difficult to leave him with a nanny or bring him to daycare at the school where I work, I would remind myself how beneficial it is for him to learn Spanish. I really should speak to him more in Spanish myself, but I’m hesitant to teach him my broken Spanish. I’ll let the professionals teach him for now!

 

On finding gainful-ish employment

… I’m not in it for the pesos.

During my second week here I had a job interview at a local private bilingual school, and less than a month after our arrival I was reporting to my first day at work! As one of Tres’ colleagues said, “Girl, you don’t waste any time!” Seriously, though. To my knowledge, I am the only EFM that is currently working in the local economy.

One of the challenges of being an EFM is giving up your career and reinventing yourself at every post. Apparently being a teacher is one of the most transferable jobs for a spouse, and luckily I struggle to stay in any one place too long so things may just work out for me. At this particular post there isn’t an international school so my options were limited. I could a) commute across the border to work in El Paso and get paid in USD or b) work in Juarez and get paid in pesos. In the end, I was most interested in interacting with local educators and having a flexible schedule for Osito, so I’m in Juarez making all the pesos. Plus, he gets to attend daycare at my school so it’s a win-win!

My official title is English Academic Advisor. I spent the spring trying to figure out exactly what that means, and many days I’m still unsure. I try to motivate teachers, offer new strategies, advocate for their needs, and proofread anything that needs a native English set of eyes. I am hyper-aware of not being the foreigner who comes in and tells them how to do things, so I try to lean heavily on their local expertise and find ways to make sustainable changes with their buy-in that will outlast me when I’m gone. There is a serious learning curve and some days are more clumsy than others, however Mexicans prove to be eternally patient and kind and we’re making progress. So much of how the school runs is foreign to me (Will I ever get used to kissing everyone to greet them?!) but engaging lessons are universal so I find I have more in common with the staff than not. If I fail in this administrative role, I’m hoping they’ll just let me teach a few science classes.

 

Oh, hey there!

… I haven’t fallen off the face of the planet!

Note: I’m finally getting around to posting this two months after I wrote it and four months after we arrived in Ciudad Juarez. Better late than never!

I kept telling myself I’d write something once I felt more settled in. Two months later, and I think I finally feel settled in!

My weekly routine includes going to work part time in the mornings. Osito either goes to daycare at the school I work at or he stays home with our nanny. My outings around Ciudad Juarez include trips to the grocery store and restaurants on the weekends. I cross the border to go to El Paso a couple times a week, generally on Wednesday afternoons for Osito’s bilingual music class and Sunday mornings to go to Target to avoid the long lines while everyone is at church. I meet with an online Spanish therapist tutor once a week, I have tennis lessons one night a week, and we have a regular babysitter so we can get out for dinner.

The relative normalcy of my weeks belies the struggle it took to get there. I spent my first couple weeks anxiously adjusting and trying to stay afloat. Patience isn’t my strong suit and I really wanted my new normal to magically arrive without any of the hard work. Little by little I claimed new victories and created new routines. In the beginning it was navigating the traffic on my first trip to the grocery store, testing the best bridge and time to cross the border to avoid long lines, and learning to communicate with Osito’s daycare workers in Spanish as he adjusted to a new routine. It’s one thing to have your infant refusing a bottle at daycare, but another to try to explain how to get him to drink it in a foreign language. The tasks that felt monumental my first weeks are a breeze now, albeit it a hot, dry breeze with tumbleweeds dancing by…

It would be easy to say “I did it!” and pat myself on the back, but the truth is that I’ve had a lot of help. The consulate community offers as much help as I ask for and we were set up with a social sponsor who has been really helpful. I’m in no position to turn down friendliness, even if our sponsor is obligated to hang out with us! I was able to find my job through a contact at the consulate (more on that here) and there are always events that help us meet people- the Easter party at the Consul General’s house, her pool party, as well as book clubs, tennis lessons, and various other clubs I can’t always join because life is tricky with a baby. I am extremely grateful to the EFM’s (eligible family members… aka spouses) that reached out to me for tea, lunch, whatever. Beyond the consulate community, the single most helpful person has been our part time nanny/household helper. She keeps the desert dust off our floors, helps me find everything I need in Juarez (an evening gown, patio plants, party decorations!), and has unwavering patience with my Spanish (or she’s just a mind reader). She’s also a great mother, a professional employee, and my first local friend here.

With only two years at a post, you are forced to adjust quickly and I think we’re on the right track! Our HHE (household effects) arrived just shy of two months after our arrival and the maintenance folks came by last week to hang all of our pictures. The guest room is ready, so if you’re up for a visit nuestra casa es su casa!

 

On Flag Day

… Viva la Mexico!

I don’t think I can escape the Flag Day post. Every Foreign Service blogger has a Flag Day post. I’m writing this almost five months after the fact, which means five months of interrupted sleep with our infant, so my memory may be fuzzy but I’ll give it my best shot. If you’d like to read about the experiences of others at Flag Day, particularly those who are FSO’s and not a spouse like myself, check out this compilation of Flag Day blogs!

Flag Day is a State Department tradition where one by one, each country’s flag from our bid list is projected on a big screen and the name of the FSO that has been chosen for that post is called up. Everyone cheers as the FSO runs to the front of the room to collect his or her mini flag of their designated country, shakes a bunch of hands, and smiles for a picture. Everyone has family flying in from all over the country and the energy in the room is palpable. I fantasized about the high emotions of such a dramatic announcement. Would it be Buenos Aires, Bogota, or Bangkok?!

I don’t know if it was the post-pregnancy hormones, sleep deprivation, or the emotional high I got from doing my hair and makeup for the first time in two months, but our Flag Day felt dramatic to say the least. I sat in the family section with my baby in my arms and my mother at my side, ready to help her check off each post as it got announced. I had color-coded the list so she would know exactly which posts we had ranked high, medium, and low.  I don’t know exactly when Tres got called, but it was early on. Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. They must have made a mistake. It was a border post that was not so long ago the murder capital of the world. I’m pretty sure my heart stopped. While they called the other names I frantically tried to do some internet research on my phone to find something, anything that was positive about this post. We had agreed that we were world-wide ready, but could my cold northern blood handle the heat of a Mexican desert?! My baby was too young to star on an episode of Breaking Bad or Narcos!

A better diplomat’s wife would be more… diplomatic. But I am nothing if not honest with myself and others. It took me several days (weeks?) of researching, talking through options, and holding back tears as I rocked my newborn to sleep to feel good about moving to Ciudad Juarez. We dreamed of something more exotic, something that felt safer for our baby. After reading lots of blogs from others who were posted there, chatting with other Foreign Service families, and learning about all that Ciudad Juarez has to offer, I can sincerely say that we are excited to move there. We hear that the sense of community at the consulate is among the best, the locals are warm, the cost of living is low, and there’s even a fantastic children’s museum. We get monthly newsletters from the consulate and any place with a cycling club, a running club, and tennis lessons is a place I will enjoy. Ciudad Juarez is working hard to turn itself around – we love nothing more than rooting for the underdog- and the violence is lower than several US cities that I wouldn’t think twice about visiting. Did I mention that it claims to be the home of the first burrito?! Finally, I am beyond excited to improve my spanish skills that need a lot of work after living in New England for so long, and I can only hope that Osito gets a good start on becoming bilingual.

 

 

 

On being a new Mom in DC

… this city will bring me to tears for the rest of my life!

As we get ready to pack up for our first post in Mexico, I’m getting sentimental about leaving Arlington. And so begins what will probably be a continuing theme in this blog as I emotionally reflect on what it means to me to be a mother.

We moved here from Massachusetts when Osito was 7.5 weeks old. While Tres was busy getting acclimated to daily life at the Foreign Service Institute, I was trying to keep our tiny person alive in a new environment. I instinctually leaned on the supports that already existed for me, my mommy friends living in the area. From there my circle grew to include their favorite spots like the local breastfeeding support group, mommy and me yoga classes, and the Women’s Lounge at every Nordstrom. I eventually ventured out on my own to places that work for Osito and me- story time at the Central Library as often as we can make it, wandering the Target on Arlington Boulevard, and as many museums and monuments as we could possibly fit in.

As excited as I am to begin life at our new post, I will relish every visit to DC where I can reminisce back on the roller coaster of being a new mother. I hope when we come back that I am flooded with memories of this very poignant time in my life. With any luck, a visit to Lubber Run Park will help me remember our quiet evenings when he would nap on me in the carrier, his velvet head close enough to kiss. I hope the burn in my legs as I climb the Lincoln Memorial will remind me what it was like to carry him up those steps. When we have lunch at the Foreign Service Institute I’ll pull out a picture of him sleeping in my husband’s arms in the cafeteria, and I will remind him when he is older that the last time he visited a particular Smithsonian museum he slept most of the time and needed a diaper change in the lobby. I’ll brag at Arlington Cemetery that he visited the site six times before he was five months old. Washington, DC has been a city of firsts for my baby – his first jog in the jogging stroller around the Tidal Basin, his first Halloween on the streets of Georgetown, his first babysitter when we went to see Bob Dylan at The Anthem, his first hike at Rock Creek Park.

Many thanks to this most amazing city where I found myself as a new mother. I am excited to continue with more firsts (first steps, first words, first birthday… first burrito!) at our first post in Mexico, but I will always be excited to come back and remember this incredibly special time.

 

On putting Christmas (and life) on hold for the State Department

…the show must go on!

My Christmas decorations are being held hostage by the State Department in a storage facility in Maryland. We can’t get into the storage facility until some long-overdue paperwork gets stamped by several bureaucrats, so I am left with a few choices:

1. Skip decorating altogether. This is the preferred choice of those in Tres’ language class. If you’re a grinch, it’s a great excuse not to fight pine needles for the next month.
2. Cross my fingers and hope that the long-overdue paperwork arrives in a timely way so I can decorate with my carefully curated ornaments and hand-sewn tartan stockings.
3. Head to Target and get on with the show.

We have spent a long time waiting for Tres to get this job, and one of the biggest lessons is that you can’t put your life on hold for the State Department. I went to grad school and we both pursued new and challenging jobs. We did not sit around and mope for the years it took him to get here, and I will not sit around and mope for the month of December hoping my decorations get set free. Sure, I totally imagined that I’d be listening to Christmas music sewing Osito’s stocking to match our set, but I’m pretty sure he’ll have no idea that his stocking for his first Christmas was from Dollar Tree. We invested minimally in cheap ornaments, made a paper chain garland, and picked up some fresh greenery at Trader Joe’s.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

On choosing a name for a blog…

… it isn’t as easy as it seems!

I have dreamed of this blog for half a decade. It would start with Flag Day and take my family, friends, and admirers along our journeys in the Foreign Service. I would share how overwhelmed I was during pack out, just like all the bloggers I followed, as well as all the best recipes at whatever exotic post we found ourselves at. While my husband studied away and persevered year after year in his quest to become a Foreign Service Officer, I largely daydreamed about this blog but never started it because that would jinx us for sure.

So when my husband finally got “the call,” which was actually an email, I was ready to share my emotions with the internet. But I had one problem that has plagued me the past four months- you can’t really start a blog until you have a name for that blog. In all my daydreaming I had never arrived at a proper name. It seemed like a small oversight until I actually had to put fingers to keyboard.

It’s harder than you might think. The best names are already taken either by other travelers or Foreign Service bloggers. I’d also like to preserve some privacy for my family so anything with our names is a no-go. It can’t be country-specific since I intend for this to follow us along to all our posts. After testing out a few duds on my very honest friends, I am moving forward with this.

“Oh the Places We’ll Grow” reminds me that it’s not just about the destinations, but the self-growth that is bound to happen with this type of lifestyle. It’s a reminder that challenges are opportunities for growth, and we are not in this for the wealth or fame (hah!) but for the rich experiences and public service. It also makes me think about all the places our son will literally grow up since he was a newborn when we made the decision to accept the offer and move to DC (and beyond!).

Just to put it out there, because I’m the kind of person that puts it out there, if you google the name of this blog you’ll get lots of hits for a book called “Oh the Places YOU’LL Grow,” which is a board book about a penis. I’m not kidding. Google it, or just trust me. I can’t have a blog name that is available, acceptable to my friends, preserves our anonymity, and is not post-specific without some sort of sacrifice, and this is it. Penis book or no penis book, I am keeping this domain name.

This blog is intended first and foremost as a way for my friends and family to keep track of what we’re up to. I’m also happy to serve as a resource for Foreign Service wannabees, since the blogs of other families were really helpful for me as we went through the process. What I’m trying to say is… be patient with my amateur blogging skills!