Kids: At the Beach, On the Bed, In the Hair

November 29, 2010

Yesterday morning, Emelie and I woke up at 5:45AM. It wasn’t intentional. At least, it wasn’t our intention. When I left the bedroom, I saw Frederick standing at the front window that faces the sea. By that time he was quietly writing something in a notebook, using the window’s light so he wouldn’t have to turn on the overheads and disturb Emelie and Mark – that consideration, an afterthought, on the heels of enough noise to rouse the neighbors.  

There were a pile of sticks on the floor. About a hundred of them. When I got closer and looked at his book, I could see that he was doing math problems. “5 x 7 = ?” was written on the page. He got down on the floor and made 5 piles of 7 sticks each. Then he scooped up the piles and counted them all and wrote “35” next to the equal sign. I can’t think of a better use for those bamboo barbecue skewers.

Frederick loves doing school work. He also loves being ornery. And when the two loves are at odds with each other, orneriness wins out. That’s why he sometimes cuts classes or refuses to do his work. Obstinacy is more fun. The actual psychology of it might be a bit more complex than that. Who cares?

I’ve been sick for the past couple of days. Drank some of the local water. I usually drink only water that I filter at home or I drink bottled water. Emelie was telling me that when Filipinos move away for a while and then come back for a visit, they can’t drink the local water either. Gives them the Tijuana scoots, just like it does to us foreigners.

This weekend, the boys and I have been collecting shells at the beach across the street. When we get them back home, we make little piles of them on the cement railing of the porch. Frederick’s pile slowly gets bigger and the piles of shells that belong to Gab and me get correspondingly smaller. Derick doesn’t bother stealing them on the sly, he does it in the open, with us watching. When I mention it to Frederick, he acts as if he has a right to take them. He comes across with this attitude like they all belong to him anyway and they are just on loan to Gab and me.

Most kids are too complex to be described by one set of behaviors. Frederick loves to do things to help us. He sweeps the floor and does the dishes without being asked. The other day he scrubbed the toilet seat with a toothbrush. I checked my brush when he was done. It was dry.

After we came back from the beach, I took some time off from consciousness and snored my way through a two hour nap. When I woke up, the boys knew it. They’ve got a sixth sense about that. I can be lying there still as death but if I’m awake, one of two heads pops through the curtain in the doorway. They came into the bedroom and hopped into bed with me, fighting for the position closest to Uncle Mark. It was like lying in bed with two writhing snakes. They never did settle down. It’s not in their nature.

I have often heard it said that a person change when they have children. Well, they don’t have to be your own. My life is profoundly different, from the inside of me, out, since the boys came into it. I love them dearly. And the best part? They are only with us for two days. Two long, marathon days. When we drop them off at school on Monday morning, it’s with a sense of relief. Emelie and I go home. We get our peace back. We talk to each other again. I take a luxurious nap, knowing I will wake up without a small, smiling face just inches away from my own mug.

The week wears on, about the same. Then Friday comes and when I wake up from my nap, I feel kind of lonely. I miss those little faces. I look forward to seeing them again. I miss the racket, the jokes, the shared times, the delight of little boys. Ahhhh…. Thank God for Saturday and Sunday! It works for me.