The other night I read about this site called TED.com their byline is "ideas worth spreading". Lover of ideas and learning that I am, I journeyed to the site and watched Capt. Charles Moore talk about the great Pacific Gyre (read floating garbage heap the size of the Unites States). All that crap, all that waste floating about in the Pacific that cannot be retrieved and cleaned up...I wanted to throw up. I have to confess to being an anti-litter freak, I have picked up others garbage and presented it to them saying things like "you forgot to throw this away, I thought you might want to do that!" The incredulous looks I have received, who cares, pick up after yourself because news flash: this world is not your personal dumping ground. I found the Pacific Gyre as hard to digest as the albatross community that dies and regurgitates our human garbage.
On Tuesday I found a local Audubon bird sanctuary, smack dab in Houston in one of the prestigious neighborhoods. What a gem! Everyone loaded into the car to check out a section of the Great Texas Migratory Path, we went to look for nests and colorful birds. The picture above is what we saw the most of. Garbage, stranded in a creek, floated down from elsewhere or sometimes contributed by the inhabitants from the homes backing up to the creek. Perhaps I am naïve in thinking that if you have curb-side recycling you wouldn´t throw your unwanted furniture over you back fence to collect creekside. This jaunt proved to me that money does not build social responsibility. What I do know is that if I had money to spend upwards of $500K on a home I would donate my furniture, to my maid or gardener, to Goodwill. What I also know is I would walk down that slope to the creek, motivate myself and my children to clean that crap up, we´d take the pool cleaner, we saw lots of pools on those properties, you know they have pool cleaning equipment.
For 10 minutes I stood and stared at the stagnant mass of garbage, the idea flashed into my mind to walk down there, start cleaning but then my outrage began rising. Instead, I´m going to print the picture and deliver it to the doorsteps of the houses backing up to the offensive mess and make a suggestion...get outside of your house and live your life in this world. Clean up your act because others should not have to clean up your household debris, teach your children and yourselves to step away from whatever the diversion may be and clean this up. The gross negligence behind their fences is forgotten and if we all choose to shove our crap under the rug, so to speak, what value do WE as humans have in this world. The manicured lawns in that neighborhood were lovely but it´s all for naught because I see the skeletons in the closets and those skeletons are hideous.
Everything is measured in pounds, grams and kilos are so much easier, get with the metric system people...I never have to carry cash, it´s scary...no one fills my gas tank up and wipes my windows, what the hell ever happened to full-serve, this sucks...every store has a parking space right there for you...televisions in the check-out line are ridiculous and wrong, don´t mind-numb me as I wait...no one cuts in front of you in line...the "fresh fruit" is a joke...mega-stores give you access to one sop shopping but not quality...the trees are big and beautiful...the lawns are big and beautiful, and freshly mown grass is a scent I have sorely missed...homes are shades of grey, taupe and beige - go wild folks,pick magenta, it may improve your life...I can choose from 20 different tampons and hundreds of shades of lip gloss from Target(!)...no one knows each other...constant news...constant chatter that I actually understand (and wish I didn´t)...Home.
Yes, This transition is difficult, what transition isn´t?. But if you haven´t ever left what you know, consider what is alien about your own culture to others. My kids are baffled, I am baffled. We will make our way but Houston, re-entry is a problem. Do you copy that?
As we traveled up Highway 57 to bring us to Texas, my eyes drank in the scenery in case I don´t travel the road again for awhile. The absence of billboards is something I appreciate as is detracts from real life, this is what we did see...
A very large bull meandering in the highway, nothing stops traffic like a 900 pound animal in front of you. Tierra Quemada, the name of a town, it means burned earth and I think I wouldn´t want to live there. Real de Catorce rising like a giant. Las Palmas in it´s 1960´s wonderfulness. "Vulcanizadoras cons pistolas a las 24 horas" and that would be tire repair dudes with pistols 24 hour service, I´m never traveling the Pan-American Carretera at night. Men driving donkey carts on the dirts roads of the Sierra Madre Occidental mountain range. The skinniest horses I have ever seen were in the alti-planos of San Luis Potosi, the land there is high in the mountains and arid...how anything thrives there is a mystery. Coyote roadkill with giant swooping vultures on the side of the road to clean up. Vendors with casacabel skins every few kilometers, yes people (mostly women and children) make their living selling the sketletal remains of rattlesnakes they have killed. There are a hell of a lot of rattlesnakes for sale in north San Luis Potosi and the "homes" by the stands are built of scrap pallets, corrugated cardboard, threadbare blankets, a piece of tin if you are lucky...it´s third world living at the edges of a fancy highway. Pozozs de Santa Ana, and I wondered if the misery of revolution had lived here and been left broken, to whither out. Ancient adobe walls abandoned for 20th century building scraps. Land being cleared of Huizache and Mesquite trees and the trees were just set on fire, no collection of firewood, no conservation but the air smelled like they should be smoking ribs and it was a scrumptious smell.
When we arrived in Monterrey the smog hanging over the city hit us in the face and the smell burned our nostrils. Monterrey is like Gary, Indiana in the 70´s, pumping out the nastiest fumes that even your air conditioner cannot conceal. Isabel remarked "I have to get out of this city, it stinks so bad I have a headache!" She was right, Monterrey is another place I don´t know how anyone survives because of the carcinogens being released into the air. Entire mountains are cut away to harvest materials for concrete, the entire ecosystem around the city is marred from production of industry. Sebastian wondered how the mountain didn´t fall down on "all these people, look at this mom, it´s so dangerous." My eight year old sees it, my six year old smells it in the air, why can the adult reapers/rapers of the land acknowledge what is wrong with that brand of progress?
As we exited Monterrey I composed some poetry while driving:
huizaches drenched with yellow blossoms and the air, oh the air moving the sweetest of smells... of spring beneath mountains gouged by industrialism and the cloud of the 21st Century saturating an entire valley choking everyone below
I haven´t written poetry since 10th grade high school, and the teacher thought I had copied some beatnik poetry (because she said it was too good for 10th grade literature, ego boost.) Whether it´s good or bad, I don´t really care, that is Monterrey in my minds eye, a hopeful wasteland, waiting to be reclaimed. Drive the Pan-American Highway 57 for yourself and observe, the cloud of what the United States does not want in their back yard is waiting there for you to witness.
Please don´t get it in your head Mexíco is ugly or worthless. There is untold beauty of heart and miracles. The most luscious land I have ever seen is in Urupan, home of avocado export to the world. The most gracious people one could encounter, and my standards are high as I grew up in the mid-west and expect a "hello, how are you today?" with chatty banter, live in Mexíco. The Pan-American Highway really isn´t Pan America at all, it is a desolate fast stretch of highway that takes you through places you´d never go to get to where you want to be. Mexíco is where the hearts of my children lie because it is beautiful and forgiving while giving and with mysterious otherworldiness of the town we lived in and loved. But that chapter closed during 947.8 miles (including when I went the wrong way and had to go back.) That our last memories should be on that toll-road driving from the unknown to the unknown sucks.
Before I have said, my children are brave and fierce (also annoying). In traveling Highway 57 I could not have chosen better, more attentive companions. Constantly they pulled me out of my torpor from driving to look and see the wonder in the wasteland. The beauty in the breakdown.
These days I wake up wondering if I have just lived a lifetime in 24 hours, some days I have. This year has begun with endings and I would be grateful for a beginning in the near future, just in case anyone is answering prayers. My last 3 weeks in San Miguel were more painful than the time I caught typhoid there...I deal better with strange temporary diseases than saying goodbye to this temporary permanence.
How, I don´t know, did I accumulated so much in 2.5 years in Mexico? That question was asked alot when moving it. My time left, in this place others come to enjoy, was spent in labor of moving; people, boxes, lives. During this time I was able to visit my iPod with beautiful sites and beautiful people and I became attached to a song, of course, during all this shuffling of everything-and-nothing-at-once. Twilight has always been my favorite time of day, the closure and the beginning, with soft golden blues that make me shed tears when I see the sky spreading out before me. One night as I drove down the mountain at twighlight time "Set the Twighlight Reeling" by Lou Reed came on. Now I know lots of people that find their comfort in God, but nothing put me at comfort that twilight time like Lou Reed´s cracky, edgy voice...he saved me from many bad mama incidents in my last weeks. Though this video version isn´t the sound quality of my iPod and Lou singing to me, Elvis Costello is a nice consolation prize and I hope you all enjoy a musical adventure.
My gift of strength while I packed up a formerly happy life into boxes was to gather this woman of strength in me. I did dread moving but part of me looked foward to it also, to get on with this life and not live in these disjointed boxes of life alone and married life every once in awhile. Now I am finding it difficult living with another adult after all this independence. Perhaps I should say all this dependence, on only myself, to make it through the next moment, which leads to the hour, day, week. There were moments I needed a guide and there was no manual for success or failure, surely there are years of therapy involved for my children on the dreaded move from Mexico...but we all found bravery.
When you leave something you love and you know it´s this slow departure, you have time to taste the sweetness. Things you once found negligible begin to take value. Since I was driving most of my days, my delicacies come in one line on scraps of paper: cobblestone roads, a cantalope moon, the Parroquia, losing Roarke´s glove and retrieving it from the mirador, giant ficus trees at La Concepcíon, tiendas, a dusty construction worker blowing me a kiss, the all permeating dust , sweet tears, kissing lovers, twirling batman acrobats in the last circus, yellow huizache blossoms, Guadalupe (always Guadalupe) and twilight. My sweetest last moments driving on the obnoxiously bumpy roads of San Miguel de Allende. Of course always my children, with me, sharing this journey. How did I earn the blessing of these three beautiful humans that I am supposed to care for? Simultaneously I am irritated and brought to my knees in thankfulness.
So many times it was commented, *you can´t do all this by yourself*, *you have to do it this way...*, *you need help*. Advice given in love and sometimes as if to say I wasn´t capable of delivering. Times came when I accepted help and then you simply have to step up, for yourself and the people you love, and say I will do this and I can. At the end of it all; the shuffling of things, boxes in Mexico, vehicle left in Mexico, still plans to arrange...I did what had to be done. Nine hundred miles between children and their father was covered to give them a family and some security and to let go of the regrets at leaving geographical points on a map. Yes, I did set the twilight reeling.
There are some things in this life you want so badly you can only focus on that. It´s really a devil may care vision. There becomes an obsession with staying put and only focusing on that one thing. We forget to look at what we really need, what others around us need. We forget that one day we won´t drive on this road again, because life is always changing, it´s best look at what is around you.
Lately I've had many revelations about what my family needs. My conclusion is that we cannot be a family with the absence of 1/5 of our family. For me, Sebastian, Isabel and Roarke, it is only 1/5. For Richard, his heart is missing 4/5´s, he is empty and we cannot let him continue like this. This week I have not been able to get the idea of a radical change of heart (courtesy of Betty, look her up on the left side)and what that means for me. Here is how my heart is changing:
Part of me wants to remain in this lovely town, with the community I have grown in to. This geographical place where I have started to learn, finally, to be here now. But my committment to my family, my husband, tells me it´s time to let go. Families can live apart, sometimes we need to, somedays we wish to. My family, we five people that make this life complete, we need to be together. My heart is changing radicallly, I am letting go of my most wanted desire. Life in Mexico.
Funny just a few weeks ago, I commented on how dreams come true. They still do. When the dream comes true...then what? When dreams come true is it ephemeral or something that lasts forever? And so your dream came true...what about others hopes, dreams, expectations and fears? I cannot stop myself from exiting what I want and realizing what we all need. What this family of 5 humans needs; love, to be listened to, kisses, hugs, wonder and each other. Good gracious, it really does seem old fashioned and cliché and how flipping simple can we get? What I dream of more than geographical places and bi-lingual children is children and adults without metaphorical broken hearts from sadness and a disconnected life.
So it looks like I am giving up pura vida en Mexíco and I am so sad for that loss. However, if you know me at all, you know I have to list the gains (because they are wildly magnificent!). First and foremost the Reina de Mexíco, Guadalupe. Never in all my years of going to church, studying notions of religiousity, spiritual seeking...did I find something to connect to like Her. My life, wardrobe and accessories will always be grateful for my introduction to the Mother of all mothers. Sebastian and Isabel are bi-lingual, let´s hope they remember this. Sunny days for nearly two consecutive years, you´d have to be completely self-involved to have missed that. This next statement may be self-involved but here goes...the courage to step outside of your box.
For two years I have struggled with stepping outside of life as I had known it for 36years. On my journey into motherhood, beyond the phase of marriage that went like: "We have no kids, we have 2 incomes, we´re so groovy, we can do anything we imagine"... I forgot to believe in the capacity to have radical changes of heart to change your life. Richard asked me to take a leap, I did even though I was afraid and I have loved this experience but not every moment (especially typhoid). I have not forgotten to pay attention, well some of the time I´ve paid attention. What we are living is life, I have no special brand of bravery, this is what others have coined "ordinary courage"...yep, this is my life.
We've been in Houston for...I don't remember how many days now. I am in this haze of all things for sale. The Christmas season is always overwhelming but I'm wondering if the season ever ends here, all the shops are packed (except the thrift store, I had it all to myself, no competition, yeah!) We shopped minimally for Christmas presents but have been to the grocery store more times than I care to recount. I love the grocery store, I could fill baskets full of foodie items if my pocket book allowed it.
The grocery store has taken a very strange spin in my absence from the states. To shop for the necessities for your pantry you must now enter the maze of shopping, through the flowers, cakes, cookies...by the time I reached the fruits and vegetables my kids were mesmerized by all the marketed items. What I found most disconcerting were the television screens on the cereal aisle talking to me and then in the check out line. Don't the marketing execs know I shop with my kids and I can barely handle their human clamoring while shopping, I certainly don't want a television constantly talking!
All this marketing to my pocketbook happened after I had spent 4 hours at the park, entertaining my children, took a wrong turn as I left the park and was lost for 1 hour looking for a grocery store. As I was driving aimlessly and listening to my new favorite song "To Be Surprised" I drove past this high end strip mall that I decided didn't meet my budget shopping needs. Ten minutes later i drove past the same shopping center and thought, okay maybe I have to stop here. I pulled in to go to the super fancy grocery store and looked up to see a sign that said "Second Baptist Church". Utter confusion ensues in my brain, doesn't that sign over there say something like "Forest Rose Boutique Clothing for Children" and I'm looking at the super fancy *flagship* grocery store and I'm in a sea of BRAND NEW Mercedes, Jaguars, Land Rovers, BMW's? Yes, the church was the anchor for this extremely high end que lujo shopping center.
At this point I can't go in the "Flagship" grocery because 2 out of 3 children are asleep and I couldn't even stomach going in the place if they were awake because I just read a review of "WWJB?" (What Would Jesus Buy? Morgan Spurlock's new film with the members from the Church of Stop Shopping) and I'm fairly certain that Jesus would be offended at the thought of a church being the anchor for a strip mall. In fact I'm pondering this question heavily these days? I don't read the bible daily, I haven't read that book in about 12 years and when I did last read the book it was for a grueling class and I haven't looked at Christianity the same since. Oh, the point of that...I DO remember the story of Jesus turning over the tables in the temple. Were those just the money changers or all merchants? I can't answer that question because Sebastian yelled at Isabel in the last hotel we went to when she tried to take the Gideon's bible with her: "Isabel, you always take that! Maybe someone else will need one too and there won't be one because you have three!" Now I need a reference point and it's not there.
My heart will have to serve as a reference point for me. I understand the idea of supporting a business of like minded folks, look at the goodness of fair trade items, I have no problem with people shopping in stores owned by Christians, Muslims, Jewish because that is their world belief. There was just something not right about the church physically being connected to all those shops that turned my stomach and made my heart say "Hasn't this gone far enough America?"
I left this weird space and found the Kroger nearest us, which as you have already read is where the television screens are on every aisle. It took an hour and a half to complete this shopping extravaganza, including 2 pee breaks. As we left and were walking through the very large pedestrian section with a cart laden and my three children holding onto various portions of the cart, a man in a very new and very shiny Lexus almost ran us over to drive in a circle for a parking space. If my children had not been holding onto the cart, I would have sailed my cart full of groceries into the side of his car because of his blatant disregard for the most precious people in my life and I said that out loud. Unfortunately my children were actually listening to me mumble and then started saying "I'll beat him up", "I'll kick him in the privates", "He is a very mean man." My stomach started turning again because of my own design and I said "No, we won't do any of those things. We will forgive him because we are all safe. It's his heart that needs filling, we can't fill it, but we can forgive and move on in this life."
And that concludes our family adventure of grocery shopping American style, what a whirlwind!
Half a dramamine tablet an hour and a half before a dentist visit does not make Roarke go to sleep. He will still force you to pry his mouth open for impressions while you´ve contorted your body to restrain his in a very small dental chair. After that scene, female dentists in Mexico are reasonable, ni modo, come back in six months and we´ll try agin, $150 pesos($10 USD roughly) for impressions. Are you kidding me? These are the most sane dentists I´ve ever met, don´t traumatize a kid and don´t gouge a parent. Half a dramamine does knock Roarke out 3 hours later, into a scary deep sleep, that just isn´t right. He is also sleepy the rest of the day, making for bad attitudes. The cure for that is Martha being in charge an abandoned tire and a steep driveway. Which makes Roarke even more tired, hence, my blogging early. Hooray?!
Second lesson of the day came with the junta for Sebastian´s 2º grade at Los Charcos. I am a terrible Waldorf student. When did I forget to play the flute, the air has to come out just right you know. Simple math like counting by 3´s...there is so much counting while moving your body I get confused, along with the other parents, I am grateful for that. One man said "I just can´t." Can´t what? Do what your kid does everyday? That should be required. We ask so much out of our children, sit down, be quiet, what does this equal, how do you say this..., how would you do that...think, pay attention, look at the world around you, listen to your heart. Shouldn´t we also be prepared to observe their day as they experience it? Now I know why Sebastian´s head wants to explode when he comes home, thinking outside of the box is hard. I´m asking my kids to do it, I should pay them the courtesy of walking with them.
Well, four hours with eight children by yourself really isn´t so bad. Today we had the mother of all play dates, friends help us when we have hard days, a total of eight kids from ages 8 to 3. What the heck it´s only 5 extra kids, they can all wipe their own bottoms, that is half the battle! Surprisingly there weren´t any terrible moments, Roarke smashed his finger but didn´t you already know he would do something? ¡Viva con gusto! That´s my boy. We had a sad moment though, another little girl´s father lives far away and at that moment she really needed her daddy. So familiar with this scenario I am, what can you do but scoop up a kid and hug them? You can tell the child that your heart can hold oceans full of love and that is where your daddy always is, swishing away with your heartbeat. But that does not make the physical absence any better for the child. You can feel it but not see it? That sucks and how is that fair? I can´t answer that question and I admit to crying openly in front of my children when they cry tears of sadness from loss.
Our family is separated by miles and an invisible border, the kids do not understand what is going on, mommy and daddy love each other, why can´t we all be in the same place? Disjointed living so we can stay in Mexico as opposed to Indiana and still no daddy, again this is not fair and it sucks. But this is our life and everyday I try to encourage beautiful moments to bloom among us, though I´ve killed the grass in this spiritual journey...ah, ni modo as I have become fond of saying. This week, everyone had an opportunity to a mental health day, Isabel was the only one to decline saying "I LOVE SCHOOL!". Just last year she clung to my leg refusing to go to school, this week she was the center of attention for about 7 kids at school, so happy to see her. How life can change in the small space of one year.
Progressing through motherhood and life is my meditation for the day. What we are capable of as women and mothers, the flux of the stages of womanhood and motherhood... Always we are moving foward, definitely with time but also spiritually. I have never been more grateful and more pissed off at the gifts I receive from children and I love them for that. More than that I love the lessons everyday that; people change, situations change, how you can be afraid but it´s the wheel in motion and you cannot stop for fear. How did I ever get so lucky to have all this wisdom put in my lap so innocently?
Hearts, teeth that come out by the roots, and the mother of all mother´s...
Ben´s last sleepover after two years. We are so sad that Ben is moving back to the states, but we are grateful for the years the boys have spent together in Mexico. Thanksgiving is a fitting day of endings and beginnings. We love you Ben and we´ll see you at Legoland!
Well, Roarke lost not one but two teeth. Because he always has to out-do his siblings? Hmm...I´m not sure but he is a fierce risk tasker and the stakes run higher then, don´t they? So today is the first day my three year old woke up looking like a boxer. Here´s how it happened: We went to Los Charcos to put in our time with manualidades, that´s hand crafts for you English speakers, and stop laughing at me because you know my secret that I suck at crafts. The task was to make a lot of piñatas for sale at the Los Charcos Christmas Bazaar. Literally, I was 2 minutes from being finished, we had been there for 4 hours and were ready to go. In those two minutes, Roarke ran outside to play a sort of keep-away game fell and smashed the right side of his face into a tree stump. Out came two teeth, roots still intact.
For those of you that may not know, Sebastian lost his left front tooth in a weird accident November 11, 2001. Seven years and 11 days later...baby brother tops his loss. Did I mention I had a crappy week? Oh yes, there have been many real life saints along the way but something about this loss was the breaking point for me. Really, what are two teeth? Baby teeth at that, you put them under a pillow and the tooth fairy comes, víola, everyone is happy. However, the loss of teeth is following this theme of broken things, to the extreme, in my life. My circuits are overloaded, I need some new circuit breakers, thank you very much.
Iretí, Roarke´s teacher from school, held him on the way to the dentist. How my heart did weep, for Richard and myself. One of us should have been holding him, not just driving. How Roarke did cry; "Mommy, I´m tired! I want to sleep on your shoulder." I drove with precision and speed that I had not encountered before, in Mexico anyway. If I could just get to the dentist, I could hold him and offer comfort. Iretí was a constant reminder to slow down, breathe, everything would be okay, put on a face of tranquility for your child. Everything was okay, no lost life or limbs, no need for panic. Roarke was a champ through x-rays and sitting on my lap and when we were done, this is what he said:
R: "I wanted to loose two teeth, mommy. Will the ratoncito (Mexican equivalent of the tooth fairy) visit me?" Me: "Yes, he will visit you tonight." R: "Can he bring me a wallet?" Iretí: "Well, you know, the rantoncito has been very busy today, maybe he cannot bring a wallet tonight." R: "Oh, okay. Can he bring it tomorrow?" Iretí: "Yes, I think so."
After all that, he really wanted to loose teeth? Isn´t there a better way to earn money, like clean up your toys? Well, at the end of the dentist visit, I just couldn´t keep the dam gates closed anymore. My tears for the week of challenging obstacles became too much and I cried on Betti´s (the Dentist, her full name is Beatrix, the alternate girl name we threw around for Roarke) shoulder...for a week of losses and gains, for Roarke´s lost teeth and bravado, for Richard´s absence, for an amazing community of people that help when you are immobile, for not leaving two minutes earlier.
Later that night, I received two phone calls from Los Charcos parents. They were checking in to ascertain Roarke was doing okay. One conversation was in puro Español, hard for me on the phone, I´m better face to face. How my heart sang to know the other family was concerned for Roarke and offered their support in whatever way I needed. The second phone call was from my friend Paloma. Her words still bring tears to my eyes. The summary of her words were; I realized today what a strong and beautiful woman you are and how glad I am that we are friends. How I needed those words when I felt anything but strong and beautiful. My weakest moments, those beautifully painful human moments, when I just want to sit down and cry, but I cannot. Roarke, I said a few posts ago, you make me grateful for living in the moment...I am, but I am afraid.
How grateful I am that I have this fierce boy, Iretí-the maestra (because she offered me strength when I had none), Betti for her shoulder to cry on, Maestra Lucy and Jose Luis for bringing the lost tooth #2 and the hugs, Richard for talking me out of my 100 foot tree, Anna for conversations in Español, and Paloma. Paloma gave me the greatest gift of all, pure love. I felt anything but brave, it was a moment of ordinary courage, when I felt like a chicken heart. For someone to tell me, it´s okay, you did it...this life has been insane, but today has been okay.
Have, I told you how much I dislike parenting by myself? Just as I am sure Richard hates living in Houston by himself and starting a business from scratch otra vez . The financial disaster of the United States has hit us so hard. If I were to go back to Indiana, Richard still would not be present, there are no jobs for him in Indiana. Houston is too big for my taste right now, one of those "don´t mind to visit, can´t live there." Our life is relaxing and small enough to be manageable here. One thing is missing; Richard, daddy, dad, honey. There is a hole in the fabric of our lives.
Often I have wondered how? How do men and women all over the world parent, sanely, by themselves? Most days I can keep it together, I don´t want to leave my children with images of mommy dearest. Today though, we were getting ready for school after a four day weekend and my patience had trickled down to a drip-drop. Roarke asked for blueberry cereal, when I gave him the blueberry cereal he screamed "I said I wanted cheerios!" Okay three year old indecision, no problem if I have someone to help me diffuse Roarke´s anger. But it´s just me and my head is hot and I think it´s going to explode all over the three lunches I´m preparing. The daily requests, constant changing of minds, constant chatter in my ears, constant questions...I am simply overwhelmed.
How do I continue mindful parenting if all I want to do is run, far and fast. Away from sucky financial situations, a three year old screaming at me and broken things filling up my life. Find a happy place...
We are all healthy, no bouts of salmonella or typhoid (like the first year). The snake I almost stepped on yesterday wasn´t poisonous, or at least chose to ignore me. I love my three wild kids. Each one delivers a gift of wonderfulness to this world daily, Sebastian you are wise and rational when I am not. When I was shrieking about the snake yesterday, Sebastian said: "Next time mom, just get the shovel and whack it." So sensible, not really humane, but it´s a 5 foot slithery snake! Isabel you are so beautifully calm, she goes about her day with her "gems" and makes patterns on table tops, that glitter and make my eyes happpy. Never was there a girl breathing pink and smiles like you, for me. Roarke, un fuerte niño, you help me live in the moment because everything can change so rapidly with you. To all the single parents in this world, you are strong and have amazing courage, knowing you all are there...I feel a little less crazy and a lot less lonely this chilly morning.
In case you are in need of a film that shows just how strong the human spirit is, here is a trailer for "God Grew Tired Of Us". This is the story of a few of the Lost Boys from Sudan, their story is tragic, emotional and fiercly beautiful. I encourage you to visit your local video store or library to find a copy.
Our Experience in Africa: During the Christmas season Sebastian and I traveled to Gulu, Uganda to be with our best friends, ´becca and Elliott Nimrod. Though this adventure, began with a joke:
´bec: come with us to Uganda to wean Roarke!
me: okay i´ll talk to Richard.
Richard: sounds like a great idea, book the tickets!
Yes, it really was that easy folks. I´ll endure cataloupe sized boobs while weaning anyday if I can travel to the unknown places of my world. Even 24 hours of travel with an almost 7 year old. Hell, one kid...that is called an accessory! Somewhere between Amsterdam and Entebbe though, I woke up with a jolt and said "Shit, we´re really doing this aren´t we?" To no one but myself and I only wish I could tell you I had been more eloquent, but I wasn´t. No the $700 USD in painful vaccinations didn´t register "Hey, we´re going to Uganda!", only a minor "wow, my arm hurts". What it took was being on a plane, cruising over the Alp´s, with my son´s curly head resting soundly in my lap to sink in. Well, I´m 2/3´s of the way there, live the adventure.
I recall, I felt vaguely at home, people cooking over wood fires, brush burning everywhere with that acrid but pleasant smell, limited water supply, random electricity...all of these we had become accustomed to being in Mexico. Painful illnesses...I never knew my bowels could hurt so until Octobert of 2006. Mexico had provided Bash and myself with lots of extra flora and fauna, we had 2nd world antigens but man Gulu is 3rd world, can we survive 16 days of this. Now I am thinking; "what have I done bringing my 7 year old here" and I pray for the best.
What is the best is to step outside of your white self, which is hard when you are an anomaly, and start breathing like this is your last breath. Soak in every bit of what you can, because it is such a short time, when will you be back on the continent of Africa, what story can you take back that may change someone as much as it will hopefully change you? When I finally started breathing, I opened my heart and I let go of all the things I felt I had to do, I opened myself to love.
The stories my ears received were so painful to absorb, my whitebreed existence knew nothing of this sort of pain. Grace with her lovely daughter, the product of rape by the Lord´s Resistance Army (LRA), didn´t love her daughter any less. Agnes, her policeman husband murdered by thugs in Kampala. Agnes was left to provide for 5 children, one child currently in the hospital with malaria. The mad woman outside of the H.E.A.L.S. compound screaming to the maid "REBECCA, REBECCA, PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!" The malnutrition ward of the free clinic, children didn´t suffer from starvation because of lack of food. No, they suffered from parasites, worms eating up their insides to nourish themselves. Without medicine, my discomfort in Mexico from amoebas turns into death in Africa.
I went through my days there almost perfunctorly, would listen to a person if they made their story available, but I didn´t pry. Now, I wish I had pried, the interviewer in me. But in those moments of listening I began to know this woman sitting next to me, speaking in her lyrical voice, I am cooking with her, and she has experienced a tradegy in life I heretofore have never known. I want to give her my heart, my ears, my love and sit, chopping onions and listen. For the first time in my life. I. REALLY. LISTENED.
The whole crew sat around the campfire on Christmas Eve and listened to Grandpa, Jolly Okot´s father, tell his story. Of many nights, running from their compound, in the bush hiding from the LRA with his family, praying to God not to be discovered. Most clearly I hear him saying "It is because of God that I am now here with you today. Because of God I know I have to give something to my people because we have suffered, but we have survived. God chose me to survive and I will give what I can." Norman, Grandpa...you caused my son to weep when we left you, you caused me to open myself to what love there is in this life. How could one person be worthy of such a gift? I owe you much more than I can give in this one lifetime. Of two Christmas gifts I am most grateful, Sebastian´s birth, 4:55am Christmas Day 2000, and Grandpa talking about the joy of living Christmas Eve 2007.
This is my oh so short story of Gulu and the gifts received when you untie the ribbons. I sent out an email after we returned from Gulu and I will end this post how I ended my email: Lastly, I would say to all of you, go...go to the place where you think you can help. It could be Africa, it could be the house next door to you. Just go and let your heart blossom and work for change, our lives are depending on it.
Peace to you all, biz
A BIG P.S. Thank you to Richard for encouraging me to believe that children have a right to travel and experience at a young age what some adults are afraid to see. That we have made three lovely children is already a joy, that you believe in the power of change because of a child...you´re my dreamboat. I know there are few husbands and fathers that are cut of your cloth. Everyday I wake up grateful for you, for your adventure, for your open heart. I love you. Thank you to ´becca for also encouraging me to belive traveling with children and teaching them about love can be done at home and in the world. ´bec, you are a constant source of inspiration in my life and I value our friendship so much more because I never thought there would be a friend like you in this world. Thank you also for your quote "go after love as if your life depended upon it...it does." To both of you, I look foward to many more adventures!
