This morning while walking down the cobblestone street in the direction of the surreal volcano which sits on the horizon, I commented to my friend that years from now, we will look back on these days as an idyllic time in our lives. Delicious meals served in courtyard gardens, surrounded by the colors of the woven fabric and the painted masks and the flowers and the hummingbirds, followed by walks in the park, gazing at fountains and chatting with artisans about their wares and their lives. Then back to games around the courtyard, with toys scattered about and children squealing in delight.
I imagine I will forget the details of ordinary life. Like today. I returned to a clean apartment because after having trashed the place for nearly a week, I asked the nice woman who cleans here if she could try and make some order out of the disaster area that has become home. Oh my. We walked in to orderly toys, fresh sheets, clean smells, and not a sticky surface anywhere! Liana and I played for a bit and had lunch before I decided it was naptime. I normally mix rice cereal with her formula, but since variety is the spice of life, I picked up some oat cereal to try out. Well, it turns out she HATES oat cereal. As she took the bottle to her mouth, her face wrinkled in disgust, and she spit the offensive liquid in my direction and screamed. I quickly ran to make her a proper formula with the proper cereal, and accidentally spilled the box of offensive oat mixture all over my spotless floors. No time to deal with that, however, but the princess’s current displeasure was so profound that her howls could certainly be heard all the way to the park. I quickly offered her the proper mixture, which she put to her mouth and tasted, but immediately dropped the bottle and again began to howl. Oh no. What had I been thinking? That was the juice bottle, not the milk and cereal bottle. I thought maybe, just this once, we could take our milk and cereal in the other bottle, since the right bottle contained the offensive oat mixture. I held her and cuddled her and put the bottle to her lips, but my multiple offenses were compounding, and beyond unforgivable. I quickly turned on the TV to Discovery Kids en espanol, (yeah. Uh huh. No TV until she is three? Did I tell you I threw that idea out on day three?), strapped her into her stroller with a toy, and ran to the kitchen to wash out the proper bottle containing the offensive oat mix, carefully trying not to step on the spilled mix that I had left on the floor what seemed like hours ago. The cartoons were not to her liking, but I was able to redeem myself somewhat with the proper mixture served in the proper bottle. She drank some, and then indicated that she wanted to be held and rocked. I put on music and sang and rocked her, and she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. As I put her on the bed, she whimpered a bit, but I patted her tummy, and covered her uncovered toes with a soft blanket, and soon, she was sleeping like an angel, and I was off to borrow a broom to clean up my mess.
Yes. Years from now, I will remember the gardens and the fountains and the birds and the volcanoes and the hugs and the giggles and the first steps and the amazing discoveries of how to put something inside of something else, and how funny it is when I touch her nose and say nariz! And then touch my nose and say nariz! And then touch some other kid’s nose and say nariz! And then touch her nose again and say nariz! And how fun and funny and silly that all seems. And then the wonder when she reaches out and touches my nose, and then her own. Yes. Those will be my memories of these days.
On the topic of selective memory…. Any of you out there remember the situation in Casa Quivera? A few months ago, an orphanage here in Antigua was raided in hopes of finding a child who had been kidnapped months before. The child was not found in Casa Quivera, but the international press swooped down and printed stories about kidnapped children being liberated from behind a walled building. Ummmm. It turns out none of the children were kidnapped. In fact, they were all being very well taken care of by an orphanage with more than a decade’s experience, which had been operating legally under Guatemalan law, exceeding childcare standards for similar institutions. But those facts did not make much press. The children, most of whom had prospective adoptive parents awaiting the completion of their paperwork, were filmed being taken out in the rain by armed men, and their whereabouts was unknown for months. Frantic families have been waiting for news of these children for months. Each case was put under unprecedented scrutiny, and each case was found to be not only the legitimate but also properly and legally documented. A few days ago, all of the children were finally returned to the Hogar, and PGN (the attorney general’s office) has been instructed to proceed with their cases, which had previously been frozen.
I imagine I will forget the details of ordinary life. Like today. I returned to a clean apartment because after having trashed the place for nearly a week, I asked the nice woman who cleans here if she could try and make some order out of the disaster area that has become home. Oh my. We walked in to orderly toys, fresh sheets, clean smells, and not a sticky surface anywhere! Liana and I played for a bit and had lunch before I decided it was naptime. I normally mix rice cereal with her formula, but since variety is the spice of life, I picked up some oat cereal to try out. Well, it turns out she HATES oat cereal. As she took the bottle to her mouth, her face wrinkled in disgust, and she spit the offensive liquid in my direction and screamed. I quickly ran to make her a proper formula with the proper cereal, and accidentally spilled the box of offensive oat mixture all over my spotless floors. No time to deal with that, however, but the princess’s current displeasure was so profound that her howls could certainly be heard all the way to the park. I quickly offered her the proper mixture, which she put to her mouth and tasted, but immediately dropped the bottle and again began to howl. Oh no. What had I been thinking? That was the juice bottle, not the milk and cereal bottle. I thought maybe, just this once, we could take our milk and cereal in the other bottle, since the right bottle contained the offensive oat mixture. I held her and cuddled her and put the bottle to her lips, but my multiple offenses were compounding, and beyond unforgivable. I quickly turned on the TV to Discovery Kids en espanol, (yeah. Uh huh. No TV until she is three? Did I tell you I threw that idea out on day three?), strapped her into her stroller with a toy, and ran to the kitchen to wash out the proper bottle containing the offensive oat mix, carefully trying not to step on the spilled mix that I had left on the floor what seemed like hours ago. The cartoons were not to her liking, but I was able to redeem myself somewhat with the proper mixture served in the proper bottle. She drank some, and then indicated that she wanted to be held and rocked. I put on music and sang and rocked her, and she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. As I put her on the bed, she whimpered a bit, but I patted her tummy, and covered her uncovered toes with a soft blanket, and soon, she was sleeping like an angel, and I was off to borrow a broom to clean up my mess.
Yes. Years from now, I will remember the gardens and the fountains and the birds and the volcanoes and the hugs and the giggles and the first steps and the amazing discoveries of how to put something inside of something else, and how funny it is when I touch her nose and say nariz! And then touch my nose and say nariz! And then touch some other kid’s nose and say nariz! And then touch her nose again and say nariz! And how fun and funny and silly that all seems. And then the wonder when she reaches out and touches my nose, and then her own. Yes. Those will be my memories of these days.
On the topic of selective memory…. Any of you out there remember the situation in Casa Quivera? A few months ago, an orphanage here in Antigua was raided in hopes of finding a child who had been kidnapped months before. The child was not found in Casa Quivera, but the international press swooped down and printed stories about kidnapped children being liberated from behind a walled building. Ummmm. It turns out none of the children were kidnapped. In fact, they were all being very well taken care of by an orphanage with more than a decade’s experience, which had been operating legally under Guatemalan law, exceeding childcare standards for similar institutions. But those facts did not make much press. The children, most of whom had prospective adoptive parents awaiting the completion of their paperwork, were filmed being taken out in the rain by armed men, and their whereabouts was unknown for months. Frantic families have been waiting for news of these children for months. Each case was put under unprecedented scrutiny, and each case was found to be not only the legitimate but also properly and legally documented. A few days ago, all of the children were finally returned to the Hogar, and PGN (the attorney general’s office) has been instructed to proceed with their cases, which had previously been frozen.
I know several families who have adopted from Casa Quivera, and speak highly of the institution. I also have a forum friend who has suffered terribly during this dreadful mess. Yesterday, she posted pictures of the beautiful twins who will soon join her family, safe and back at the hogar. I do not know how to describe my emotions surrounding this situation. My case has been complex, and riddled with its own problems, but I cannot even imagine what the families of these children have been through. My relief at the return of these children to the hogar, and the promise that their cases will continue, is a burden lifted from my tired shoulders. Hey Kathy…. years from now, may your suffer from selective memory as well… with vivid memories of the surreal volcanoes and the idyllic hum of the humming birds, and most importantly the sounds of the giggles of your beautiful children, and may the details of this ordeal fade in your mind.
