6 + 2 = 12

During the week, there are six of us at the house. On the weekends, 8, with the addition of Frederick and Gabriel. But the additional two kids more than doubles the noise, commotion and confusion. I have often told Emelie that I would like to change that, but I haven't made a move in that direction because I just don't know what to do. I don't have the heart to tell Frederick and Gabriel that they  can't come to our house on the weekends. They really look forward to it, and it is an opportunity for them to eat almost as much as they want, perhaps making up, to some degree, for the deficit in their daily diet, Monday through Friday.

Those two youngest boys were spending weekends with us long before the other kids came to live with us. A couple of years ago, they stayed in a house we rented right on the water. It was a big house, where the kids could play in the upstairs common room. They slept on mattresses there during the night, and slid on them, across the polished wood floor, during the day. They wrestled, did yoga with me and engaged in the kinds of things boys love to do, which almost always ended in tickling and fits of laughter.

But now they don't get near the attention that they did then. Besides sharing our attention with their two older brothers, their sister and her baby, we have immersed ourselves in a lifestyle that squeezes activity into the hours until they bulge, what with preparing to build a house, moving our internet business to a new location, and starting a business of selling used bicycles.

What a stupid American I am! I came to paradise to become part of a laid-back culture, so I could truly enjoy my time here. What happened? Old habits and new situations, that's what. The worst of the habits is a result of the American way of thinking that creates a direct relationship between doing and self-worth. That thinking persists despite the idyllic vision I had of relaxing peacefully on my front porch, watching the ocean waves lap the shore and tumble the grains of sand.

New situations? Well, taking on a family of kids would qualify.The added financial responsibility tugs at our income, in all directions, making it thinner than a gnat's ass stretched across a barrel head. So, we eat at home, ration food, and shop for clothes where the second-hand attire is in wrinkled heaps on the bamboo tables, on market day.

It's not fair, but Emelie and I often buy one food for the kids and after they go to school, we get something better at a carenderia for her and me and Shane. We can't afford to feed them the more expensive foods but I am not willing to live on sardines, noodles, eggs and dried fish, which is what they often eat, along with their rice. I admit to being a spoiled American. But the kids are still far better off with us than they were at home. Many times there was only corn grits for them to eat, and sometimes they had to go hungry because there was absolutely no food at all. It is a common occurrence here in the Philippines, especially among the mountain people who rely on farming for their existence. Many of the farmers cannot afford a carabaw, a water buffalo, to plow their fields. So, the size of their farms is limited by what they can till by hand. And their small farms do not always grow enough food to feed them from one harvest to the next.

This life is so much different than what I am used to. In the U.S.A., it is a certainty that I would never be raising a family of four kids - an instantaneous family with 3 teens and a baby. Back home, if I came across destitute or abused children, I would simply report it to the proper authorities whose job it is to see that they are taken care of. I would easily avoid any involvement which would require a personal commitment to their welfare.