Friday, July 15, 2011

things of thursdays

Thursday, as you may recall, is the day I leave the house. I'm madly in love with Thursday. Prenatal day is so fun. I enjoy getting to be with the ladies for a few hours each week. Their lives are so complicated, yet every week they show up smiling.

Troy has been able to spend each Thursday with the kids.  They are always happy to have a 'dad day'. As Noah informed me last week, "I still love you Mom, but I need to tell you this ... We don't have to do as much work when Dad is the one in charge of us."

I said, "Well I'm glad you still love me."  He said, "You are my Mom even when I have to do so much work - of course I love you." That right there is the sort of love Hallmark has made fortunes marketing and selling.  Deep, abiding love. 

The summer is half over and all the children residing here under my care seem happy and mainly content.  No eyes have been gouged out in desperate fits of boredom. No one has perished under the strain of hard work.  During bedtime prayers the other night Lydie even thanked God that "mommy stay with me."

That Lydia prayer was offered shortly after she doubled over grabbing her belly and telling me that she was 'so mad at Paigey for making her to dance at hewr dance pawty and making her get a tummy ache.'

Paige is known to throw dance parties for her siblings occasionally. I didn't attend the most recent one but apparently there was a lot of forced dancing.
all the pregger-ladies

The other night Paige lamented aloud that as a teenager in Haiti she "cannot get a job and make money"  like all of her friends in the U.S.  She said, "Mom, I want to make and save money."  I am convinced she wants to make it.  I'll fall over dead if the saving part happens.

Stuff like that always causes me a tinge of guilt that moves me to action. Even though these gypsy children are not lacking very many things that we (as parents) highly value, I still have a healthy amount of concern for them when they vocalize the things that bug them about living here.

It is true after-all, she is missing out on flipping burgers at Sonic. I told Paige, "I will find work for you soon."  I sprung into action informing anyone that cared that she was available to translate for them. (With recognition that we know it makes more sense to give those jobs to Haitians whenever possible.) Within hours Paige had three weeks of translating work and I walked around the house pumping my fists in the air proclaiming victory over her lamentation. 

She is figuring out that translating can be a pretty exhausting activity. She is earning her dollars the hard way.  As mentally tiring as it is, it's probably still more interesting than flipping hamburgers.   

Running has been my saving grace this summer.  Bad moods get reset instantly in 30 minutes time. I have been recording my miles on paper (something I've never done unless marathon training) and that means that my obsessive-compulsivity has a chance to come alive again. Seeing miles on paper drives that particular neurosis.  I can motivate myself to go further if I know it will make a nice round number. This week I'm aiming for 30+  miles with the long run (8 to 10ish?) planned for Saturday morning when Troy can stay with the kids.
Monday - 5.25 mi.
Tuesday - 5.5 mi.
Wednesday- 5.5 mi.
Thursday - 3.75 mi.
Friday - 4.0 mi.

On Tuesday Beth and I ran 4.5 together out on Kenz Oktobe. I finished with a mile in our little neighborhood. We both had our hands plastered over our mouths a couple of times trying not to inhale thick black smoke from burning trash piles. The humidity did the best job I can ever recall at holding down the smog that morning. It messed with us and slowed us down. Nothing increases the freak-factor or draws attention like two white women running through the insane streets of PAP with their hands over their mouths.

Yesterday Troy suggested we grab a few hours alone before the next team arrives. He asked if I'd be up for a date after prenatal program. I didn't know it was transparent - but when I asked Paige if she wanted a babysitting job she said, "Yes, you guys need a date."  In other words, she noticed a bit of elevated tension.  Running resets crabby moods, date-night resets our communication skills.

We headed to our favorite date spot last night and had a fabulous time.  Sometimes the actual act of getting to the date spot makes it not seem worth it.  Thankfully the traffic wasn't too intense on the way up the hill. When we arrived there were black Suburbans with 'National Palace' license plates pulling in with us. The guys with guns strapped to their legs jumped out and we got pretty excited thinking we'd be having dinner and a show.  Once inside we never could figure out who the big-shot was but the security guys stood guard over the place throughout dinner.  

I love date night.