Over Sentimental

Letting the kids know we are leaving

Tomorrow begins the one week count down to my move back to the good ol' United States. Packing, is a funny task. I still need to use the stuff that I should be packing, so really, packing will never be completely done until the day I leave. I have begun the task of sorting through my belongings into two categories; things to take right away and things I can wait a few months to see again. I look through my stuff and decide what items hold memories and what is just a little souvenir. The whole thing has its emotional moments. I've got that shoe box stuffed with all the little "Mesi" notes and pictures of flowers. That pink-construction-paper-heart that reads "I love you" in glitter glue. The rubber band that was intended to be a gift. Ah! I glare at my memories and (instead of crying my eyes out) I say to myself,
       "Gosh, girl, you are way too sentimental."
But, no, honestly, these girls and boys are so strong, independent, and have been taught the best. I know very well that they can and will make it without me waking them up every morning to go to school and, at meal times, telling them to go wash their hands. In fact, they might feel a little bit relieved after I head out! Plus they know, Estherline, Gladimy, Leonard and James know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are loved. Thus the "mission" is complete, there is peace and it's time to go back to America.

Teen Mom?

I never really wanted to be a teen mom, but maybe it's too late.

Estherline, (our nine year old, in third grade) came home from school and, like everyday, she relayed her school day to me. This is a daily routine that I sometimes find myself subconsciously ignoring. She told me about who got in trouble for not completing their homework. I started to produce the robotic nods so that she knew I was listening. She repeated the jokes that the class clown used to interrupt the lesson. She told me what grade she received for her recitation of her history lesson. Then she shared about what the teacher talked about; mothers. Now, Estherline lives here with her three brothers and hasn't seen her biological mother for a while. I was suddenly intrigued, I wondered how Estherline participated in such a class conversation. I listened as she began her extended explanation of what was said. 

Estherline

"The teacher had us stand up in front of the class, one-by-one and talk about our mothers. We had to tell what they do for us, what they buy for us, how they take care of us."

     
As she said this, I thought, "What in the world did this girl say to the class?!" 

She continued, "I told them my mom's name is Cecilia."

My heart stopped...

"She takes care of me and helps me when I need help."

I didn't know how to respond...

I looked at her with a blank look on my face, let out a nervous laugh and said, "Ok...What. Else. happened today?"

Later on, I told my dad what she shared with me. He explained that the concept of "mother" is slightly different than what we would normally think. "Mother" is the one who takes care of you everyday.  

If Estherline looks to me as her mother I'm going to do my best to "take care of her everyday", thus making me a teen mom.