I have never thought of myself as a role model. It may have been some fantasy of mine, to be looked up to, revered in some way – but I have never used the title to describe myself.
In the past week, I have become a nanny, big sister, emotional support, homework helper, “get up a 5 am to get things ready for them to go to school”, “teach them right from wrong” kind of gal. My Belize Mum (Eva) has had the responsibility of three grandchildren throw at her this month. Raising 5 babies on her own, it’s no big challenge, except that she is now 55, director of 3 clinics that serve 26 communities and is host and teacher to a white girl who is still learning the ropes of development work.
Being the ‘little helper’ that I am, I volunteered to come to PG and help with the kids. I did this thinking that I owed Eva, as she feeds me and houses me on the weekends, sponsors my little trips to civilization. I am not known for being good with kids. Patience is not a virtue that I own.
Zoey and I fight and vie for my parent’s attention all the time, both of us thinking that we are the important one. Most the time when I am around small kids, I just want to throttle them or run away. However, I find that the situation that these 3 are in, calls for more from me. The story is too long to tell, and frankly, I am tired of talking about it – just know that these kids need love, support and stability.
In the mornings, I get up at 5:30am, help pack lunch kits, iron uniforms and get breakfast set out. When the girls, Daneesha, 8, and Ireva, 3, wake , I bathe them, dress them in their uniforms, help plait their hair, feed them and throw on cartoons so I can bathe the baby, Obeja, 1 ½ , dress him and feed him. When ever one is settled, I shower, dress, grab a bite, and get the kids to the ride that takes them to the baby sitters.
To most of you, at least those of you reading who are parents, you are probably laughing and thinking “oh, sweet revenge!” But, remember, I am a 22 year old college graduate, who thinks that Irish Carbomb’s are a good idea , spoiled, sorority girl, and completely unknowing of the ‘joys’ of parenting. This is tough. I came to make a difference, complained that I couldn’t see any results in my work. Well, I do now.
Ireva talks now, unlike when she first came to stay with Eva. Obeja smiles, laughs and is learning new words everyday. Daneesha – well, Dan is tougher. She is old enough to understand what is going on with her family, but how do you explain to a 8 year old her parents don’t want her? Dan is making friends and opening up about what is happening. Sharing her feelings on her mum and dad, along with living with her grandmother, but the pain and resentment is in her eyes.
I don’t understand how I can be there for these children, who aren’t even family- yet; I can’t be there for my own niece and nephew. I know that I am short with them, and I don’t call enough or play enough with them. I act this way at times – but they are everything to me. I would change all of my plans and goals for my life to raise them.
Funny thing is, I don’t believe that my family thinks I could. They say “you have plans for your life” and “you don’t have to take on extra obligations”. My translation: “Do you really think you can lug the kids to the middle of Africa or whatever Godforsaken place you go and try to save the world” and “ your not going to be able to make enough to care for them.
A bit of a stretch? Maybe. I do have a flair for the dramatic, its one of my flaws. I have many of them, we all do. I have no preconception that I am perfect, angelic (far from it) or anything special. I want to be a good person. Make a difference in the world. Be somebody to someone.
Most of all, I want to live a good life, be happy and healthy, and when everything is said and done, and it’s the final curtain call, be able to say; “Damn, that was fun.”
