Checking in with Mal

Hi, friends!

I thought we could check in with Mal this morning (now night; all I got to this AM was adding the picture, then we had to go).

Mal recently turned 11! He would be in 5th grade (because his birthday is late in September).

Almost every day, he has video calls with a couple of homeschooling friends, Caleb and Kona, who have named their group The Cool Miners. They play Minecraft, "board" games (like Battleship and Azul) on buddyboardgames.com, share silly predictive text creations, look through each other's old files, and generally just have a fun time.

He is still meeting with his Sunday friend, Ryan, but since they're kind of outgrowing McDonald's (though Mal says he will NEVER outgrow McDonald's), they've started meeting every other week at a park. This weekend, Mal can try out his new-to-him scooter which a lovely neighbor gave us after the stand board split in two on his older scooter.

We have just started the FOURTH year of our weekly library/park homeschool meetup. We'd gone from 6 kids to 5 to 4 when one kind of aged out and another moved to the west coast (but he's in The Cool Miners, so he's still kind of around). But this summer, another kid joined us and he's fit right in! So we're back at 5, and these kids get along great. I love seeing how their friendships have grown and deepened over the past few years.

In fact, Mal wants to throw a Christmas party for the group at our house in a few weeks. He's been thinking of gifts to give, and will be selecting a menu soon. He also has ideas about what to do for his dad's birthday and Christmas, and it's so cool that he's thinking about ways to make other people happy.

Mal has decided that he's ready to take a break from the one-day-a-week school he's been going to for 2.5 years. I think there have been a lot more kids join, which is good for the school but stressful for Mal, who seems to like having a couple of close friends around rather than being in a big crowd.

I don't know whether I mentioned this or not, but the second time he tried to go to the kid's club on our last cruise, he had the counselor call us to get him because he was overwhelmed by the chaos. When James arrived, Mal dissolved into tears. Poor kid.

That said, I feel like early puberty is upon us. Mal has started having lots of big feelings about things, after having taken a break for a couple of years. I'm trying to talk to him about it; preparing him; telling him that big feelings are normal and that whatever he is thinking about, if he wants to talk to us, he can do that without worrying that we'll be angry or think he's a weird-o (I mean, he is a weird-o. We all are.)

Today (the morning after I started this) is school pictures, a mystery shop stop for lunch, then Urban Air. Good times!

Revving back up

School starts back up this week, and Mal's calendar is about to get busier again, as well.

I have a mystery shop today; we're going to a trampoline park! Yay! I did some shops this weekend, just taking pictures, and those were NOT worth it. But today's will be a great indoor activity to keep Mal entertained without dying.

One of my shops this weekend was here. Let me know if you know what it is!

Then this afternoon, we have a Zoom call with Mal's school to kind of set expectations for the year. It sounds like there was some student drama last year and I'm guessing they want to stop that before it starts. The school is so awesome; they love the kids, and they're so affirming and patient. It's been a real blessing for Mal, and that's why we keep sending him, even though we are DESTITUTE. 

(Not really. It does feel like that sometimes. Anybody want to hire my husband?)

Wednesday, I have my one-year follow-up with the endocrinologist who referred me for surgery. I'm overmedicated, which is suppressing my thyroid-stimulating hormone (which you want to do at first if you've had cancer, just to make sure everything withers and dies), and has my cholesterol absolutely soaring. I am going to ask if after this appointment, I can switch medication management to my primary care office. They charge under $200 per visit, as opposed to my very competent and in-demand endo, who charges (and deserves) more than $450 per visit. Her office has worked with me and been extremely kind to keep pushing appointments back by 6 months while still adjusting and renewing my Levothyroxine prescription. I recognize that this professional bunch should be paid well for their amazing work... I just wish it were insurance and not me paying it! Feel me?

Also on Wednesday, we should be able to check in for our cruise! I know what you're thinking: "You just said you were destitute!" Well, yeah. We have planned a couple of trips expecting that James would have a job at some point, and so we're doing them... but after we visit Mexico in March, we'll put the kibosh on traveling for a bit. When it's been 2 years without a real income, we'll have to reevaluate some stuff.

BUT.

I'm very excited about the cruise because D is going with us! It's their first cruise in 15 years, and I know they're going to love it. It'll be nice to have the whole fam together (maybe not on the drive down or back, but, you know, in general) for a change.

My friend referred me to a sweet woman who's going to stay with our cats while we're away. She charges the same price for housesitting that we paid Rover to come feed the cats and empty the litter boxes for half an hour per day! Yay!

Then next week is the third anniversary of our "library" group! We started LGBT-friendly homeschool meetups because when I see stuff like this, I know they don't mean "us."

We'd had 6 regular members for a couple of years, but one kind of aged out (I wish we had more older kids, but that hasn't panned out yet) and one moved to Washington. It's cool, though, because Mal and Kona talk to him online and they play Minecraft or board games several times a week.

More recently, another kid has joined us, and he just fit right in! I'm really proud of our core group for not being cliquish; it probably helps that the group IS so small. I'm just excited to see what Year Four brings!

Also next week, Mal's classes soft-start with a couple of weeks of self-directed days to get back into the swing of things. And the open gym he attends is resuming sessions.

It will be his birthday before you know it! And actually, it will be MY birthday before that, so mark your calendar!

Musical memories

When I was younger, I LOVED The Pointer Sisters. Absolutely adored them and thought they were the best musical group on the planet. 

Sophomore year, some friends and I performed one of their songs for our school's lip synch (and I blogged about the dark side of that almost 5 years ago!).

I had a couple of Pointer Sisters albums (on tape) and likely wore them out. 

Yesterday morning, if you'd asked me to name some Pointer Sisters songs, I would likely have listed "Jump," "I'm So Excited," and my favorite, "Neutron Dance." 

However, as Mal and I were sitting in the McDonald's Play Place waiting for his friend to arrive for their weekly meet-up, a very familiar song played on their "oldies" feed. It sounded familiar... was it The Pointer Sisters? Yes, it was!

The song is called "Dare Me." 

When I got home, I decided to look it up. I couldn't have told you that this song existed when I woke up, but as I played the video, I knew every single word!

All of this to say, I'm glad we got there early because this is one throwback I very much needed. I think that The Pointer Sisters' music stands up, and this video is SO 1980s and perfect, I love it with all of my heart. 

I'm doing you a favor here... You're welcome.

Summer School

Mal will be nine years old soon, and would be going into third grade if he were in school (his birthday is late in September, so he'd be one of the oldest amongst his grade cohorts). He loves homeschooling and unschooling specifically, and has so far resisted any suggestion I've made about taking ANY kind of class, even something fun like dance or martial arts. In his brain, "classes" equals "school" and he wouldn't then be a homeschooler. He has little idea that his homeschool friends have at-home curricula and structured enrichment programs.

I am fully confident that he knows that he needs to know at his age, and he's obviously happy and opinionated about his educational path. But recently D has expressed quite a bit of resentment about how they feel I just threw my hands up and "Jesus, take the wheel"ed their later school years (which isn't how it went on my end, but I know that intent isn't the same as impact, and I am very sorry and regretful that I didn't, I guess, push more forcefully... which was my bent as a mostly "authoritarian" parent at the time, and which seemed to be making our relationship worse... but I digress. I should also add that I'm fully confident that D can succeed in anything they want to do; but they are on very insecure footing because of how I conducted things). 

Also, I've been thinking a lot about how Mal is just quickly dismissive of trying things that he thinks sound "too involved" or of sticking with certain things. So James and I decided it would be a good idea for him to take something, anything, just A class next fall. Once a week is fine. And he freaked out when we told him. I brought up dance again, and he said, "I know how to dance!" I told him, "Sure, but there's something neat about learning specific steps, practicing them with friends, and then getting to perform a whole dance together." He was unconvinced. 

He's since told me that he'd cry every single day of his life once he was enrolled in a class, which sounds exhausting. He's said that he doesn't want to take any classes until driving school (which is ironic since D just practiced with James and me and otherwise was self-taught). He has asked me why I want to ruin his life.

However, recently he's taken an interest in, of all things, flags of the world.

I think it all started when he'd seen a YouTuber "rating" various countries' Emergency Management System alarms. That got him to look up the countries and see their respective flags. Now he has so many countries' flags memorized.

When we were Montreal, we saw flag shops everywhere.

We dropped into a little pizza shop on the McGill University campus, and it had a bunch of international flags hanging from the ceiling. Mal was able to name just about 70-75% of them. Then yesterday, we went to visit Nana and Pappy; they pulled up a video on YouTube where you try to guess what country a flag is from, and he was able to peg 37 of the 50!

So he has said that if I can find him a geography class, he's interested in that. He's very into continents, where countries are in relationship to each other and their continents, which countries are allies and which are enemies, and other things like that. Please keep your fingers crossed that we can find a robust elementary-aged geography class in the fall!

Also, just because I was curious, I bought a Brain Quest 2nd/3rd grade summer bridge activity book. D used to love Brain Quest books, and we did a lot of them (pretty much every one through 6th grade). Mal's completed the first section so far and he's actually enjoying it. I just call it his "activity book," and he has some of the same hang-ups D did ("Why can't I do it this way instead?" Doodling all over the place so it's hard to see what he actually did. Kid stuff), but he's able to do everything easily. Even things like commas and apostrophes, which, again, we've NEVER "studied" because we don't, he understands how to use them. We'll finish the book because he's having fun, and so am I. I did get to spend quite a bit more hands-on time with D as a kid because of our "doing school" a couple of hours a day.

All of that to say: The kid is all right. It's fine. I actually got him to go to an "open gym" by basically making him (I've asked all semester and he always said no, so I just did it), which he liked a lot. This week is the last session until fall, but that's another thing he can look forward to. 

Our summer is getting busy, already. Lots of activities, movies coming out, musicals, fun stuff. Hopefully it all involved a lot of a/c or a lot of water to get into, though!

Further (Non)Adventures in Dentistry, and also Homeschooling

In case you're wondering, Mal has not lost his tooth yet. Nor has he gone to the dentist. It got loose enough that I canceled a tentative appointment I had scheduled for yesterday.

I have a friend who'd highly recommended her kids' dentist, saying that her older child is a lot like Mal, and that they managed to fill his cavities without his really even noticing. I looked them up, though, and they had a lot of 5-star reviews, and a fair number (maybe a third) of 1-star reviews. A couple of the 1-star reviews said things like, "The technician was taking x-rays and wanted my child to get her tongue out of the way, but wasn't explaining it in a way that a 6-year-old could understand. Instead, she got impatient and shoved her tongue out of the way. My daughter didn't say anything, but had silent tears pouring down her cheeks." Uh, hard pass for that one.

I found a closer dentist with all 5-star reviews, save one who was charged by his insurance more than he expected for an extraction, and I'll deal with surprise billings all day long over having my kid's trauma at the dentist's office magnified by personnel who don't deal well with children. The receptionist was extremely kind, and I'll take Mal in eventually. If I didn't think his tooth would fall out on its own, I would do it now. But the COVID waiver we had to sign, specifically noting how dentistry uses spray that creates more water droplets and therefore increases the risks, gave me pause about visiting for a non-emergent situation.

In other news, we've visited Lakewood Park a few times since we went to the grand opening. Mal told me yesterday that it's "my new favorite park!" We met a homeschool family there one of the days, and... Maybe it's just having been home for so long with just a simpatico family, but, man, people are a lot.

Since we've been social distancing (which has now been in excess of 6 months, for those of you reading this in the future who do not have the context that all of the present-day pandemic-weary readers have), there have been two times that I've just thought, "WHY. Why do I need to know people?" And the real reason for now is that I want Mal to have friends, and without my driving and organizing, that won't happen.

But in one case, a child's adult caregiver said something to me that was SUPER racist. I, of course, immediately pushed back on the idea, and in time this person acknowledged the mistake. But good grief! I know this person and cannot believe that's truly how they think. Or thought? Hopefully it's in the past now.

Then another time, it was with a newish friend Mal was making, and Mal was playing well with both the younger daughter and the son. At one point, he wanted to go into the girl's room, and she didn't want him to. He complained to me, and I said, "That's fine. Just play in his room." And the parent said, "You wouldn't want to play in there, anyway. It's just a bunch of girl toys." I noticed that the girl had a Peppa Pig camper van, which also has. 

Later, I overheard Mal say something like, "That makes you sound like a girl!" I remarked to the parent, "He will say things like that, and I'm always on him with, 'What does a girl "sound like"?'" Then the parent said, "Oh, I always show them girl and boy stuff because I don't want them to be... you know..." Now, I know what I thought might be coming, and it was not this: "Gay." I almost exploded laughing. I wanted to say, "That's not how it works!" or "You don't get to choose that!" But then I was immediately saddened because I realized that it would be very hard to have our children grow up together with such divergent views on gender roles and child autonomy.

Or maybe I'm just too emotionally spent to put out any further energy on dealing with people I don't have to deal with.

Which brings us back to the family we met with last week. 

They were very focused on academic achievement. VERY. The things that their objectively adorable and bright child said made it clear that excelling in this area is a badge of honor in their household. Also, the child mentioned to me that the parents do not allow one of Mal's favorite shows to be viewed in their home. Wheee. Fun.

Fortunately, these kids AND their moms get along just fine.

I definitely want to have a variety of friends who don't necessarily think exactly like I do or believe the same things I believe. But here are some things I have problems with: First off, excluding anyone out-of-hand isn't okay. And I don't want to talk negatively about others, especially in front of kids. Like, cool that the way you're doing things works for you and your child is thriving. We can talk about that. But I don't want to talk about how miserably the public schools are failing everyone, because they're a great choice for a lot of parents and kids. Public schools can be good, and private schools can be good, and homeschooling can be good. It's not a zero-sum game. 

Secondly, the way you school, and the way you eat, and the amount of hands-on/hands-off parenting you do, etc. is all great. I'm glad it's working for you! But I also don't want to judge other people or feel judged because I'd be nervous if my kid climbed up an open-air 40-foot structure that was not intended to be climbed, or because I brought soda instead of water, or because I do not care at all that my son just misspelled "egg" aloud. Whatever. I'm not going to look down on anyone because of what they're wearing, or what their hair looks like, or the fact that their elementary-aged child still doesn't know how to tie a shoe.

I don't assume that I have the parenting thing cornered, or the schooling thing cornered. But I know myself, and I know my kids, and I know what works best for us. It's true that I breastfed longer than "normal" and that my friend who decided that once her kids turned 4 that she was out of the butt-wiping game would be horrified to know how much help Mal still needs in the restroom. He also has, as you well know, some "issues." But he also refuses to "learn" how to brush his teeth. And it's not like we can just say, "Fine, then; we just won't do it." Because I'm concerned enough about dental decay and neglect that I'll brush his teeth until he's 8, if I have to. That's my choice because of our circumstances, and maybe that seems repellant to others (it would have to me 10 years ago, too!), but... we're all on our own journey, and I'm not going to look upon with disdain parents who are choosing to send their kids to school where they have to wear masks all day and be exposed to "noxious chemicals." We're all trying our best!

That's it. I just don't have patience to deal with creating arbitrary hierarchies where the choices I or a group of which I am a part are making happen to be at the top of that structure, with everyone else well below. And sometimes it takes several times of meeting and conversing for that to pop up, but sometimes it's just right there on the surface. Those are a lot easier.

To end on a positive note, I'm super grateful for two friends I have, one a parent and one not, who like to talk about ideas and about getting better and about being humane and gentle with each other.

Now I have to go because Mal wants to flip over me because the phrase "almost 50" means nothing to him. 

Adventures in Unschooling

When you unschool, even if you believe in it, you almost constantly have to readjust the "school mentality" those of us who grew up in "the system" have.

Mal will be 4 in three months (!!!) and many of my friends, the ones whose kids aren't in preschools, are starting to do "schooly" things with their kids: pre-writing, lessons, that sort of thing. I'm not saying they're doing anything wrong; in fact, when D was this age, we were already a year into gymnastics, tae kwon do, and had daily "desk time" where we did sort of semi-formal stuff from a fun workbook I'd found at Sam's or something like that. Of course, we'd bag all of the homeschool stuff to go have fun, but I do get it.

As we've moved fully into unschooling, though, I've seen how my older kid thrives and how my younger kid has all of the curiosity and enthusiasm typical to children.

With Toys R Us closing, we've gotten Mal a few things we wouldn't have bought otherwise (a Jet robot suit, a Vampirina house, a LandSpeeder he doesn't have yet so shhhh), including a big Cars Florida 500 racetrack.

He's played with it for hours already, and I just got it put together at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. A "schoolish" mindset would say, "That's great. It's important for kids to play. But academics are also important." To which I would say: This is literally a crash course in physics.

My son has done a ton of experiments in the past half day: How far will the car go if I push it? Can the car rest on the sideways part of the track without falling off? Does it make a difference if I direct the cars to the outer or inner lanes? When using the motor launcher, what difference does my pushing the car into the feeder make versus just letting it roll in without the added boost? How is all of this varied with a lower, slimmer car? With a big, boxy van? Heavier? Lighter? If they're backwards? Upside down? Plastic vs. metal? Why do cars keep rolling out of the stands and how can I make that stop? How is the set behaving differently now that the batteries are dying (they're old, but the only D batteries we had in the house when I put this together)? Why won't this cat get the heck out of the way?

Neither Mal nor I could articulate the physical laws behind any of these observations, but the fact is that Mal is learning things. He's observing information that he will be able to implement to interactions in the future. That is precisely the point of learning.

And even the most confident of us unschoolers sometimes need the reminder.

The Magic of Music at Morrison Elementary

The other day, an old friend tagged a bunch of us "Morrison kids" in a Facebook post, and it got me to thinking about how special my elementary school was. I was kind of tempted to think it was just a product of its time (late 70s to early 80s), but having talked to several people, including my husband (who is my contemporary and with whom I went to high school, but we attended grade school in different towns), I realize maybe it was just a truly spectacular pocket of the educational universe that we had the privilege of walking through.

There were many things that made the school pretty different. For one, the classes were in an "open classroom" format, meaning that there were two "pods" in the building: One contained 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and a 1st/2nd split; all separated only by rolling bookshelves and cabinets, which were probably taller than the youngest kids, but not the older ones. The other space had 4th-6th grades. Kindergarten was its own giant room off to the side, with so many interesting stations and areas. Anyway, some years, I remember all four teachers in the 1st-3rd area had their desks together in the center of the space, and some years, they chose to put them against the far walls.

Except for my 5th grade teacher, I had educators who seemed not only to love teaching, but to love me specifically, and I feel like they probably made other kids feel that way, too. But it wasn't just the teachers. My friend Theresa Baker and I adored the janitor so much, we'd often purposefully tighten the lids on our Thermoses just so we could ask whoever had lunchroom duty if we could go get him to open them. Looking back, of course the teachers and the janitor were on to our little game. I hope he enjoyed the visits. He was extremely kind to us.

Then there were the field days, the fall festivals (oh, the cake walks!), science fairs, spelling bees, and the fun Santa's Workshop "store" where we kids could shop for our family members' Christmas presents without tipping Mom and Dad off to what they were getting.

But the one thing I remember as having made my elementary years the most enjoyable on a consistent basis were our music classes. First, please let me introduce you to one of the most fun adult women I had ever met up to that point (I'm sure when you only have to deal with kids for an hour at a time, you have the luxury of being a lot more fun than "regular" teachers!):

There. In the middle, between my sister and me (yeah; I know. It was 1986 and I was in my awkward phase. Whatever.). That's Becky Pickle. Her laugh... I can't even describe it. I just hope she enjoyed life as much as it seemed like she did.

Music class was, I believe, twice a week, and held in the big, wide-open multi-purpose room (that last time I drove by was being used as storage, sadly) where we could do things like play cage ball if the weather were too bad for recess. We didn't learn to play instruments, per se. I think we did do rhythm sticks and recorders, but things like orchestra and band were introduced in 5th grade and were separate animals. Also, she introduced us to notes and time signatures and all of those things, but it wasn't primarily a music theory class. Really, we did a bit of everything. Mostly, we sang. A lot.

We put on programs.

For Valentine's Day.

For Christmas.

For something having to do with the founding of America, maybe?

We learned such a rich variety of music, too. We sang a bunch of folk music. American, sure; but also Japanese ("Sakura"), Cuban ("Peanut Vendor"), Jewish (The Hanukkah Song), as well as some Caribbean stuff that I remember specifically.

Some of the songs were beautiful and I remember to this day. Also, I can see now that some were basically just variations on other scales set to words so we could be introduced to them and recognize them. And some were exercises in rhythm. We also learned to square dance. And we learned tinikling.

Even more importantly, I think, Ms. Pickle let us to choose things to sing, setting aside time in class for various students who wanted to to perform. I never listened to country music, but had Sylvia's "Nobody" memorized, having listened to my friend practice it over and over. I remember when a couple of girls sang the MASH theme song. I felt very in on something mature and maybe even wrong that we were listening to our classmates singing about suicide.

I think Ms. Pickle made music fun and accessible to everyone. We didn't have to try out to be in the programs; we were all automatically in. And we practiced a lot, but ultimately, it was just a great time.

If I could wish one thing for the education of everybody's kids, it would be that enrichment programs could stay around. These are some of my best memories from elementary school, and I feel so fortunate that I got to be one of Ms. Pickle's students.

More singing.

We did a lot of programs.

I'm fairly certain that this "Caribbean" night might be considered culturally insensitive today. But I remember feeling very festive. 

Another Day in Paradise

Today was exhausting but good, a pretty pleasing scenario for a mom of a needy baby and a teenager on a very hot day in Texas when everyone else is going back to school!

First, Mal is teething or growing or something, because most of the day, he just wandered around crying, even if I'd hold him and nurse him (and nurse him and nurse him). He was also producing an abnormally large amount of nasal mucus, if you know what I'm saying.

Anyway, I rushed James out of the house this morning so he'd (hopefully) miss First Day traffic, then Mal and I hung out in his room.

Around ten, we walked to the office to pick up a package, then made our way the rest of the way down the hill to the mailbox because the package I expected to be in the office wasn't, but it was in our postal box. We explored a new off-road trail and can get most of the way to the mailbox now without having to dodge traffic. We did end up with some nature in our hair and on our clothes.

Mal got several toys in the mail, very cool things from Zulily. He enjoyed playing for a while, but then resumed fussing. Meanwhile, I'm trying desperately to finish up "Armada" by local author Ernest Cline. Loving it. I don't think the unfavorable comparisons to his "Ready Player One" are warranted. It's a great story.

Daphne got up around noon, and Mal fell asleep at about 1. We decided that when he woke up, we'd go to the store. Daphne's been wanting to eat "more healthy" lately, so was supposed to make me a list of her desired fruits (said like Mike Meyers in "So I Married an Axe Murderer"), but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

So, when Mal awoke (in a much improved mood), we headed over to the dreaded Wal-Mart, because I also needed some other stuff, and cheap, and whatever.

D picked out her stuff, we were able to buy a bunch of peanut butter for the Capital Area Food Bank drive that our church is doing, and we also got a bunch of non-perishable microwavable dinners for the Ronald McDonald House drive that our apartment complex is having.

Then, miracle of miracles, Daphne picked out three shirts she liked (thanks, Nana and Pappy!). One I think she got just because I noticed it and said, "That's disturbing." Because that's how she operates.

On the way home, we stopped by Chick-fil-A to get D a spicy chicken sandwich, for free because of the Cowlendar, and me a free ice cream cone, because it's my birth month!

When we got back, Mal ate a bunch of tiny champagne grapes and was happy, but then he was promptly unhappy again, so we took a second walk to the mail box, because something special for his birthday cake had been delivered, and it's stinking perishable, so we needed to get it in to the climate control.

Our second walk to the mailbox.

By the time we got back, James was home, and we had dinner with the baby while Daphne watched a new Gravity Falls episode streaming live. She just took her very late supper and while I'm going to read for about an hour until I fall asleep, she'll probably still be up another five hours or so.

So: Crying baby, not good. Teenager-accompanied trip out of the house -- to SHOP, no less?! Great!

Haiti, Day Three: Kids, History, and Shacking Up

June 10, 2013, Tuesday: Yahve Shamma
Monday morning, we chatted quite a while with some men who had been visiting Pastor Jean Alix's home from North Carolina. They left for the states Tuesday morning, which meant that James and I got the green light to relocate to the single private bedroom at the back of the house. Well, it was private in that it had a door that closed, however... This *is* a family's home, and the first night we were in the room, about 5 minutes after we had gotten into bed, Markley knocked on the door, waited approximately 7 seconds, then opened the door and turned on the light. He needed a heavy blanket out of the wardrobe. Most fortunately for all of us, my post-pregnancy predicament rendered marital exploits verboten, so he didn't walk in on anything more than some drowsy conversation.

But that was Monday night, which means I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up, shall we?

Monday morning, we went back out to Yahve Shamma, the orphanage in Petionville that is run by Pastor Gaetan. The people who had been there last year were blown away by how much work has been done in the past twelve months.

This was the property three years ago:


Their school is now in the area in back where Pastor Gaetan pictured a soccer field. They are still under tarps, but their school building is almost complete. There are dorms for the kids, and the Alcegairs are back in their house. The church building has all walls up. The next project is a suite of bathrooms.

There is a photo essay of some of the work that was going on at this site here. EDIT: The link has been removed because the website appears to have been poached. I believe that the big picture in the middle is "my" Lina!

Pastor Gaetan told us a little bit of his story... He didn't go all the way back, though. Apparently, Pastor Gaetan was an orphan himself. He had come to the United States and, in Arizona, visited a church where there were a couple of Haitian members. This church was impressed with Gaetan and offered to contribute $500 a month for him to go back to Haiti and run this orphanage.

He returned to Haiti, and took in 14 kids, and waited... then received no further support from this church. When he contacted them (repeatedly), he was told, basically, "We have our own problems. We can't help you." Over time, at least six other church or para-church organizations visited Gaetan, promising to help, and then disappeared. He spent all day every day trying to track down water and two meals for the children that he had at the time.

Help One Now was able to follow through, thanks to the support of people like YOU, and as the resources have become available, Pastor Gaetan continues to dream bigger and bigger. He told people that he wanted to have a school for 200 kids. And this seemed impossible... but it happened. I can tell you, with some embarrassment, that the trigonometry and some of the other things on those blackboards made me feel ridiculously ignorant.

Now, once the school building is completed, he wants to use it at night to host classes for adults for things like welding and masonry. He wants to see his students have access to computers to learn basic skills, and he wants to be able to use his connections to help them secure jobs when they leave the orphanage.

And unlike the American foster system, once these kids turn 18... they're still family. Pastor Gaetan envisions their returning "home" as often as they like. He wants to continue to provide support for them for the rest of their lives.

Children in the orphanage (who often aren't technically "orphans," but might have lost one parent and/or have families who simply cannot feed or care for them) are sponsored 5 times at $40 per month, to help care for their lodging, food, and school. According to the website, it looks like all of them are fully sponsored! (Don't think that lets any of us off the hook; there is so much else going on in Haiti that requires funding... In fact, all of these kids have recently been rescued from trafficking and they need sponsors!)

Children in the school are sponsored 2 times at $40 per month, to pay for their school supplies and teachers' salaries. The children have a $25 annual school fee, but many families don't pay, and Gaetan isn't going after anyone for the fee.

While we were hanging out with the kids, it became obvious that many of the boys were very interested in James' tongue ring. They pointed it out to Pastor Gaetan, who asked him whether it hurt. The boys wanted James to take the ring out, but he can't. Pastor Gaetan also asked James if he were Jewish. Maybe it was the hair and the ringlets at his temple?

Promising these loving and seemingly well-adjusted children that we'd return on Friday, our team left so that the kids could have their lunch. That's another of Gaetan's goals: He wants to be able to provide lunch for all of the school kids as well as "his" residential children. Many of the school kids probably don't eat much at all at home.

As for us, we went to lunch at Hot N Fresh. It was mostly Americanish food with a Haitian twist. Spaghetti seems to be huge in Haiti. It is served in most restaurants and at all meals. It reminds me of when I was little, and we had company, and I asked my mom why, every time we had company, we served spaghetti. She said that it was because it was inexpensive to feed a crowd. I got plain spaghetti. James got some with meat sauce. Jacob treated us to ice cream for dessert, and I loved the mango!

Next, we went up to Fort Jacques for a tour. Dario had contacted an acquaintance to be a guide, but once we started getting off of the van, men started vying for our attention. In the end, we took another gentleman on, too, and between the two guides, we got a pretty good picture of this fort's history. One of the guides kept giving us quizzes, and James was the only one who could answer all of his questions!

This was filmed shortly after the earthquake:



I am very happy to say that the fort has been restored for the most part. The cannons are now down at a lower level, but the walls have been rebuilt.

Basically, Fort Jacques and Fort Alexandre were set up to monitor activity coming into Port au Prince from the ocean. It was to protect from the French, but they never came back, anyway.

As we were leaving the site, there was an elderly man asking us to buy greeting cards made with banana leaves. I purchased one, but in hindsight wish I'd gotten one for every person who contributed toward our trip. They were lovely and much more affordable than mass-produced cards from CVS.

The gentleman vying to guide us, this card-seller, and even the young boy at the top of the fort who told me to take his picture, posed, then asked for a dollar for his troubles, all highlighted a difference to me between Haitian need and American need. Everyone who asked me for money in Haiti was asking for money IN EXCHANGE for something: either a souvenir, or a service, or artwork. There was no, "I'll take whatever you can spare." It was always, "I'll give you this in exchange for whatever you feel it's worth." Yes, some of it was pretty desperate and/or aggressive, but it was always a value-added transaction, never a charity. They want to work.

It also struck home as we were driving past the markets and even just through the streets: If someone has a plantain tree in their yard, they are bringing the fruit to town and trying to sell it. That can't happen here in the US, because to sell food, you have red tape, and I know some people are gung ho on public/food safety, but it really does prevent a lot of smaller-scale garden/farmers from entering the marketplace. (Austin with the food truck industry and tons of farmers' markets is a little friendlier.)

So, from Jean Alix's home, to Guibert, to every street we drove down, it would appear that the Haitian people are workers. Every day, the streets were packed with people selling... meat, vegetables, brooms, chairs, art, souvenirs, their services. Women walk with baskets full of groceries on their heads, wending in and out of the stalls, up hills, in heels, and they make it look easy. Men build, excavate, drive tap-taps, and ride motorcycles. They sell bracelets and paintings and carvings.

I love how someone can just walk up the sidewalk, sit down, start roasting some corn, and sell it. It give people the opportunity to succeed, if only on a small scale. Dang it. Now I want some roasted corn.

Haiti, Day Two: Church, Local Flavor, Sabbath

6/9/13, Sunday 6:30 AM
We were supposed to be up and ready to go at 6:15 but... well, the ladies were. :) There were some issues with some of our phones adjusting to the time zone, and our driver and interpreters had to wait patiently for us to get ready.

The church service we were attending in Petionville started at 6:00 AM and was over at 8:00 AM. Dario, our go-to interpreter and guide, assured us that arrival at 7:00 would be fine.

Our host home provided us with a "quick" breakfast on this early start day: Rebo coffee, many cereals, a variety of breads including a pull-apart cinnamon roll, and fresh bananas. Oh, man, I love local fruit.

Sleeping upstairs in the girls' bunk room wasn't bad. We slept with the windows open, and the sounds of nature were a nice departure from the urban sounds to which I am accustomed. It also helped that I'd had some pre-bed couch time with my honey, and we were both extremely exhausted by the time we called it a night and went our separate ways.

Church Service
There was a whole lot of singing going on by the time we arrived at the church service. Although most of it was in Creole, they did sing a few familiar songs, like "Hallelujah/The Lord God Almighty Reigns," and, I believe "Angry Words" at the close of the service.

Jacob spoke very briefly, which caught Pastor Gaetan Alcegaire off guard because he'd allotted Jacob half an hour and had just neglected to tell him. Pastor Gaetan finished up, then dismissed the service.

This church building in progress is located at the Yahve Shamma orphanage. During the service, a couple of the resident dogs walked in, hoping someone might drop food. It was obvious that the mentality toward wee puppies is different with Haitians than it is with Americans. We were smitten by the little guys; they were just an annoyance to everyone else.

There was a young girl, perhaps 12 - 14, ushering the entire service. When someone would walk in, she would disappear and come back with another chair. If one of our men gave his chair to a woman, the girl would again take off and return five minutes later with a replacement chair.

After church was dismissed, many congregants came to us to shake our hands and wish us blessings for the day. Once they'd greeted us, though, the children stayed. I looked over to see James holding hands with a young man named Marceylle. According to the website, he is nearly exactly one year younger than Daphne. Marceylle has beautiful wide eyes that seem to take everything in, and he had a more serious aspect than some of the other children.

Samantha and Manitha were the first to stick to me. Manitha is a very poised and charming teenager, who clearly adores Jacob and who is also apparently a quick friend-maker, as noted in this blog post (which I highly recommend that you read for a little background of Pastor Gaetan and the orphanage. My favorite quote: "Thanks be to God who moves mountains. And thanks be to God for men and women who pick up the stones, one after another, until the mountain moves."). I also met Lina, a girl about 3 months younger than Daphne, who is not technically an orpan, but whose family cannot afford to take care of her.

At first, it was tempting to feel awkward. There we were: holding hands with these kids, not speaking the same language, just... standing there. Holding hands. And then, once I got over that initial catch, I realized that it wasn't awkward at all. It wasn't any more awkward than sitting around holding hands with my daughter or my husband, and not having to talk, but still communicating.

Sabbath Afternoon

About a half hour later, Jacob had our interpreters tell the kids that we would return the next day, and we left to go get a farther-off perspective on the city of Port au Prince.

While we waited for access to the look-out, we met some local vendors who wanted very much for us to buy their works of art and jewelry. If we insisted that we weren't buying today, they would cajole, "It doesn't cost anything to look!" And when James mentioned that he'd forgotten his money (we did have that rushed start to the day) they suggested that he "ask your friend to loan it to you."

Looking over the city was my first real feel for how populous this area is. The density is a bit staggering. I never felt claustrophobic in the streets (though that might be different if I were having to drive!), but those houses represent a whole load of people.

After the overlook, we headed back to Jean Alix's home. We didn't have much planned for this day, because this was the Sabbath and our host takes the mandate to rest seriously. (Which is ironic, considering that I rarely saw him sitting down for more than as long as it took to consume a meal or to politely visit with us in the morning or evening for a bit.)

Our interpreters had mentioned that they were going to go into town for lunch. Jacob wanted to join them, so we were all invited to go. As it happened, the famous/infamous Sunday pumpkin soup had been prepared for breakfast after we left and saved for us to have for lunch. So we did eat that as an "appetizer." There is a recipe for it here, but I wouldn't use the Whole Foods version... scroll down to the second user, who explained how to make it in more detail. Ours definitely had potatoes in it, but I'm not certain about whether or not it had meat. James really liked it, and I'll try a vegetarian version of this very soon.

Following pre-lunch, we went into town to a small restaurant which we very nearly filled. No one ordered food; we just ordered drinks and then waited for our meals. We ended up getting a varied plate with a piece of chicken, some French fries, fried plantains, a potato salad made with beets (and consequently extremely dark pink!), and very delicious pickled cabbage. It was a lot of stuff, but the portion size wasn't gigantic, so we were able to put most of it away... until about fifteen minutes later when the server brought out plates piled with rice and peas! I hope they weren't offended when most of the rice went back to the kitchen. We were just SO full!

Guibert

With a couple of hours before the afternoon church service at Jean Alix's congregation, we went ahead and drove out to Guibert. This is the village where we were to work on preparing construction materials for a house being built, and was my favorite place that we went. It is up in the hills, and there weren't any big estates with cinder-block walls to obscure the views. There was farmland impossibly situated on the side of slopes, and it was just extremely beautiful. (My pictures of that day start here.)

We saw a completed house that had been built by the 100 Homes Project, on which the group from last year got to work. There are some details about the project here:

(I LOVE THIS VIDEO! You'll see Richard Cadet, an artist we will "visit" later, and I see Lina! Also, Pastor Jean Alix is the dressed up "tour guide" for the house with the pink walls.) If you want to donate, visit Help One Now.)

We hung out near the church and rested, "visiting" with kids while we waited for services to start (taking pictures and letting them use our cameras). We also saw the progress of a guest house that is being built for future groups, so Jean Alix's family won't have to play continuous host, and they'll be closer to the community where they're working.

At church, the service was dedicated to children. They all marched in by age, dressed in red and white. The boys all had on red ties, white shirts, and black slacks. The girls were dressed more individually in red dresses with white jackets or red blouses with white skirts, white tights, and red shoes. Laurie, Jean Alix's daughter, was one of the emcees, and many of the kids presented.

Although the entire service was in Creole, again, there were elements of familiarity. We sang "Father, I Adore You" (Pere, Je T'aime) and then, after a reading from 1 John, sang "Beloved, let us love one another..." complete with the address tag of "1st John 4, 7 and 8." Except, you know, not in English.

I was taking notes during the service (it was more than two hours long, so please have mercy on me), and the boy in front of me noticed my quick scribbling. He pointed this out to two of his friends, who watched me write for some time. I was feeling a little guilty about that, so I was trying to finish up when this same boy noticed my ring finger tattoo. When he mentioned this to his friends, the woman sitting beside him made him get up and go to sit at the end of the row.

Sunday Night at "Home"
Returning to Jean Alix's, we had pasta, chicken drumsticks, eggplant, fried plantain, salad, potato salad, green beans, and some kind of meat-wrapped vegetables. At this point, I was becoming decidedly not hungry!

Once again, our evening living room wrap-up let out at about 9:00 PM and most people went in to play a game. James and I were both exhausted. I invited him up to the girls' dorm with me, and we crashed out on my bunk. It was nice to spend an hour or so with him, even though we were both completely wiped. A bit after 10, Jacob came upstairs to announce that the girls were coming up to bed, so he had to break up the "party." It was literally a slumber party, and was not too difficult for me to resume the festivities once James headed downstairs for the night.