There are at least a few moments every day where something occurs and I find myself thinking, "I MUST blog that," and spend the next few minutes thinking out the clever phrasing I'll certainly use to paint my word picture.

Of course, by the time night falls or I get a few uninterrupted minutes in front of the computer, far too many things have happened, far too much energy has been drained, and pretty sentences don't flow. The internet quality decreases as the rainfall increases here, and it's winter (aka rainy season), so the odds are against me.

All that being said, today was blog-worthy. And so now that all the kids are (hopefully) sleeping sound in their beds, I've stolen a moment to transcribe a few snippets of the endless adventures that make up a day in the life out here.


The Etiquette Of Dealing With Annoying Girls

Remember the 8-11 AM dread? This week has been quite the roller-coaster for our morning study and reinforcement time. After Sélfida was hospitalized, we scrambled and found a substitute tutor for Tuesday morning, and continued on with our week. I was certain there must be some sort of mistake when our social worker, Profe Ana, came to me on Wednesday afternoon to inform me that our tutor was in the hospital.... Yes, I know, that's why we hired the replacement. It turned out however, that our replacement had as well been hospitalized, and so the hunt for our third tutor of the week began.

This morning, with our third tutor secured and present, my attempt to launch the day's first English class session was quickly derailed when José, one of my tougher cases around here, lost his temper during study time and punched Ana in the face before storming off to his room.

I sat alone with one tough little boy for about 20 minutes, not saying much of anything. This was the amount of time it took him to get from his closed, defensive body position of curled up on a mattress facing the wall to a more acceptable and inviting position of sitting beside me. It was good to have the time to sort through my thoughts and reject my first five reactions. I find that when these kids act out (and I think it's kids in general), they sometimes do so many things wrong at once that it's dificult to figure out what you're really mad at, and moreso, what's actually worth addressing.

I've had time over the past few weeks to discover my discipline priorities around here... for example, I go light on those who violate the mandatory footwear rule, and I'm very very hard on lying. The consequences of lying, especially lying to try to get oneself out of trouble, are hard and swift. I'm also quickly becoming very tough on disrespect towards the other staff and adults here at the centre.

So today with José, I ignored the loss of temper, and the neglecting of homework, and the goofing around, and focused instead on his raising his fist to a girl.

These are tough kids from background. This is a country that doesn't protect or respect well women. And these boys are growing up believing that it's fair game to hit a woman if and when she makes you angry.

Hey, I know that we women can be infuriating at times. And I certainly know that Ana provoked José today, having stolen his backpack and notebook and given him some of her trademark attitude. However, I was thinking about who this kid is going to become, so I put aside all of those other issues, and talked with José about the way that God has created him, strong and forceful, and how God has given him this ability so that he can protect and honour women, and not to threaten them with this strength. José eventually softened when he realized I wasn't going to yell, I wasn't going to punish, I was simply going to talk and correct. And I got to see the soft little eleven-year-old boy inside that very tough shell, the kid whose life has made him hard as stone, but who shuts down at a show of force and who responds much better to a soft word and a long hug.

I feel more and more each day that parenting must be a very important ministry, a unique and transformational calling of God. It ought to be held with the utmost of reverence and respect. And I cannot understand the ludicracy of those who hold it lightly, or resent its demands on their personal freedoms.


La Pobresita Gatita (The Poor Little Kitty)

Besides coming with a 10-year-old, the house-sitting responsibilities include caring for Joy's cat Wendy and her 5 newborn kittens. Today Joel took Wendy to the vet to be spayed, in hopes that we won't have any more gatitos (kittens) running around over the next few months. As I will be in charge of Wendy's post-surgery care, Joel took me in to the vet to pick Wendy up so I could get the care instructions firsthand.

When we arrived Wendy looked simply terrible, and she had been throwing up. The vet tersely mentioned something to Joel about comida, so as we walked down to the bank to get cash to pay the vet bill I asked Joel what the lady had said. He said something about her being in a lot of pain, but I pressed him to clarify what the vet had said about comida (food).

Joel explained that the vet had said that we had fed Wendy way too much... and then reluctantly divulged the rest of the story.

The vet's instructions had been that Wendy was not to eat for a day before coming in so that she would have an empty stomach for the surgery. Joel was staying in the house while he was visiting from Los Cedros, so charge of the cats fell to him, and he faithfully closed Wendy into her cat-house last night so that he could feed the kittens. Departing from my usual method of filling up a food dish, Joel set out the ice-cream pail of cat food for the kittens to eat from, fully intending to bring it in after they'd had their fill... can you see where this is going?

With the other things going on in the evening, bringing in the cat food slipped Joel's mind. Sometime in the night a hungry Wendy clawed a hole through the metal screened-in windows in her cat-house and ate a very generous dinner or two. In the morning Joel found a nearly-empty ice cream bucket outside his door with a very content kitty curled up inside.

As Joel recounted this to me in the bank I laughed myself to tears out of the terrible, tragic humour of it, and also at the explanation he had given the vet upon bringing Wendy for her appointment: "I didn't feed her last night, but she got out, and... well, I don't know what she did after that." In light of this back-story and the vomit's completely solid, undigested cat-food consistency, the vet's delicate rebuke took on a whole new clarity.

When we returned to the vet's office the vet explained to Joel and I what medications needed to be given to Wendy, and when, and as Joel translated, he mistranslated .5 ccs of antibiotics as 5ccs, and every 12 hours as every 2. Joel discovered his mistake, I asked him again through my intense laughter whether or not he even liked Wendy! The vet, fortunately, was laughing as well, joking about how high Wendy would be off this misdose, but I couldn't help but think how lucky Wendy was that Joel would not be responsible for her post-surgery care.

It didn't take long for those feelings to be reversed when I realized that I was going to have to give a needle for the first time in my life, and continue giving them for the next 5 days... perhaps it might not be so bad to leave Wendy's care in Joel's hands? However, as Joel was heading back to Los Cedros that afternoon, there was no getting around it... I'm going to have to stab a cat.


Bubble-Gum Remedies

When the kids arrived home from school, I discovered that Luis's head was looking a bit... unusual. Closer inspection revealed a giant glob of bubble-gum firmly implanted in his hair. Some probing revealed that a bully in Luis's class at school had perpetrated the offense that afternoon at school, and shortly thereafter, I found myself testing out the old peanut-butter remedy I'd heard was rumored to work well for this sort of problem. For the record, it works like a charm. You've got to use it liberally, rub it in well, and give the oil a chance to break down the gum, but pretty soon it starts coming out in little strings. A fine-toothed comb is the other essential tool to complete this operation.


Bandana Bandits

Unfortunately, the bubble-gum incident wasn't the only case of bullying we experienced today.

Later that evening an indignant Ricardo came to me to complain that José had sold a bandana earlier this week at school to another kid in their class. Ricardo had given his bandana to José, but apparently not with the intent that José would then sell it to Naún, a kid in their class. While both children agreed that it had been given to José and was therefore his posession to do what he liked with (selling things aside- that's a whole other issue that we didn't get into at the time), I definitely understood Ricardo's feelings of being used - he had intended it to be for Ricardo, not for Naún.

José had apparently sold the bandana in exchange for a bracelet, which didn't seem like that great of a deal. I asked José if he had the bracelet and he said no. I asked him if he had wanted to trade the bandana for a bracelet, and he said no.

The picture became much clearer when José explained that Naún is a seventeen-year-old kid, apparently taller than I am, who is in the third grade along with these two boys. I certainly can understand a rather small eleven-year old's hesitancy to say no to this kid, who apparently always hits him, and would have hit him had he not "sold" the bandana. I asked the boys how we could best solve this problem with Naún, and they both wanted me to come to school and talk to them. That will likely be a task for Monday, although I will likely be taking Ana and Masiel, the two workers, along with for language back-up. Beyond that, once the situation had been explained the boys were left to resolve Ricardo's grievance, for which José asked forgiveness. These are the scenarios that play out over and over again, hour after hour, day after day, in the lives of the children of Hogar Amiguitos.


Tooth Tales

Today Ana finally lost a tooth she'd been working on wiggling for the past week, and it came at a good time as I had promised her a special treat (a little private party) once she'd lost it - her adult tooth was already coming in so getting the baby tooth out was urgent.

Fortunately Ana had kept herself out of trouble relatively well today, and had recieved no checks, so she was able to join me for a movie over at the house, complete with special food (a Friday night treat at the orphanage - it was a sort of rice pudding tonight), popcorn, and peanut M&Ms.

I know everyone laughed pretty hard at the career dive of Vin Diesel choosing to make a movie about a Navy-Seal-turned-babysitter, but for what it's worth, I actually enjoyed it. While it contained no laugh-out-loud moments, it was funny in its way. And of course, we ended our evening with the obligatory dance-party that must accompany all upbeat end-credit songs... or did you not know? It's mandatory. Except perhaps in theatres. And when not with small children or siblings. But otherwise, it's mandatory. Take notes.


Night-Nights and Gushing Head Wounds

While Ana and I were enjoying her reward for losing her tooth, the other kids were watching a movie over in the centre, except for those who hadn't been able to stay out of trouble this week, who were left to entertain themselves in other ways. Adán and Xochilt had been roller-skating in the cancha, and somehow Xochilt's skate had given Adán a nasty cut in the head that was bleeding quite profusely. By the time I arrived Samara, the night girl, had patched Adán up quite well and the bleeding had thankfully stopped. Samara assured me that the offending blow had in fact been quite light, and there was no concern of concussion.

As Ana and I were returning to the house to finish our movie, we found Xochilt seated outside on the front steps, feeling quite penitent and looking so very forlorn. We assured her that no one was angry or upset with her, and that it was well-understood that it had been an accident. Xochilt, however, had determined that she would sleep outside until Sunday as a means of punishing herself for Adán's unfortunate injury. I assured her that no one (including herself) would be punishing her for Adán's wound, and that she would certainly be spending the night safe and warm in her bed. A few hugs and cuddles were called for to drive the point home.

******Comments Tutorial*****

There are three ways to get to the comments page for my blog:

1) Click on the title of the blog entry at the top of the page. The entry will re-load with the comments section along the right-hand side.

2) Click on the comments number to the left of the blog title at the top of the page. The entry will re-load with the comments section along the right-hand side.

3) Click "Leave A Reply" at the bottom of the entry. This takes you immediately to Blogger's comment page.

4) Click on the pull-string at the top of the page. Select the entry you desire from the posted list. The selected entry will load with the comments section on the right-hand side.

By using this fourth option you begin to travel backwards through the archives. To re-access my most recent entries simply re-enter the full domain address. My most recent entry will then reload.