Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wild Picking
Something that I LOVE about St. Croix is that just when you're walking around when the aroma of a beautiful fruit will just surround you ... and all of a sudden you realize that you're standing underneath a wild fruit tree. YUM!!! I just grabbed two beautiful passion fruit the other day (they're yellow here in St. Croix)!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
my little Irish cherubs
I suppose that that is how this line of work is ... bittersweet.
Two kiddos recently left us. They've been with us for a while and a family member just recently decided to open their home to these two little munchkins. They weren't told until the day of that they would be going with this family member (a close relative who they love), the youngest of the two, a rough and tumble little 3 year-old was hardly phased before going back outside to play, but my little Siobhon* started to cry when Ms. Shauna (the director) told her.
She wrapped her little 6 year-old arms around my neck burying her head into the crook of my body between my chin and shoulder, her warm tears rolling down her cheeks and onto my neck. Every few minutes as I rubbed her back, she would look up at me, her bright blue eyes filled with worry.
"But Miss Molly, what about all of the wonderful times I've had at Queen Louise? Who will take me to the beach? [close relative] won't take me there because she doesn't like sand in her car! When will I see you again?"
Oh my little Siobhon. She has been my little shadow for as long as she's been with us. I think it began on her very first day. She felt alone, and out of place (as anyone would in her situation), she has a 'funny' name from Ireland that was hard for the other children to pronounce, and despite being born and raised in St. Croix she speaks English differently than the other Cruzan children. Siobhon felt even more out of place because her mother had just recently shaved her head that had once been home to lots and lots of long beautiful dark brown hair making her look more like an Auschwitz survivor than a regular 6 year-old.
The other children would make fun of her appearance ... mostly, her freckles. They would look at them and point one out amongst the others on her face and say, "Are those freck-uhls?" the word would fall out foreign and awkward from their mouths. As if even having to say it put them off.
But I would push up my sleeves and start to count the freckles on my arm, on my face, and the children would point out that one I always forget about above my right eyebrow. Miss Molly has freckles. Also, I told her that my first name is Irish ... just like hers. And we spoke English the same way, and outside when everyone was playing, she would stroke my hair with little chubby fingers and say, "I used to have hair just like this."
Siobhon thought I was pretty cool because of all of that ... and I have to say, I thought Siobhon was pretty awesome herself.
She and I had been reading The Witches together, and her eyes would get big as she lay under the covers in her bed and I told her stories of witches hidden in the corners of England with no toes, no hair, long pointy noses ... and she would giggle with nervous excitement as I would describe exactly how these witches might gobble up little children. She has this active imagination and I LOVED to join in. Imaginative play was my most favorite thing as a kid - who am I kidding ... I'm a writer now ... imaginative play is still my favorite!
Time passed and her hair has grown hand over fist and one of the original teasers became her very best friend, and I even got to play tooth fairy twice! The tooth fairy even had to write a letter explaining it all because she didn't realize how valuable those teeth really are! (which reminds me, my 5 year old ... and Siobhon's best friend just lost her first tooth tonight, and she accidentally threw it away in the garbage ... kids these days ... just don't understand the value of a good dollar ... perhaps another letter is in order ... ;)
Siobhon was just my little angel, and I miss her, very, very much.
Her brother wasn't officially mine ... but he was kind of a harder kid to work with sometimes ... and because I thought he was the beesknees and was less likely to kill him in a fit of frustration ... he was shooed towards me all the time. Oh little Ken* ... he was so sweet. But he would have these little outbursts.
"You're a little f***er"
"When I grow up, I'm going to tear this cottage down!"
"You're a d*** head!"
But after all, he's still only three ... and after a little outburst he still just wanted to be held as he would lay his head on your shoulder and suck his thumb. Sometimes he would pat my back and whisper into my ear ... "You're my favorite mommy." (he says that to three of us ... what a player that Ken! ;) ) You had to watch out though because he had lost some of his previous potty training and was prone to 'springing a leak' on the people he was snuggled up to. He didn't go to school, and so he was always my little bud, along with Pebbles* and the three of us loved to go and play at the park, and as I would push Ken in the swing he would stretch out a little arm and say, "Miss Molly! Miss Molly! I'm touching the sky! I can touch it with my fingers!"
I miss them both so much. But I know that it so much better for them to be with this family member.
Bittersweet.
Two kiddos recently left us. They've been with us for a while and a family member just recently decided to open their home to these two little munchkins. They weren't told until the day of that they would be going with this family member (a close relative who they love), the youngest of the two, a rough and tumble little 3 year-old was hardly phased before going back outside to play, but my little Siobhon* started to cry when Ms. Shauna (the director) told her.
She wrapped her little 6 year-old arms around my neck burying her head into the crook of my body between my chin and shoulder, her warm tears rolling down her cheeks and onto my neck. Every few minutes as I rubbed her back, she would look up at me, her bright blue eyes filled with worry.
"But Miss Molly, what about all of the wonderful times I've had at Queen Louise? Who will take me to the beach? [close relative] won't take me there because she doesn't like sand in her car! When will I see you again?"
Oh my little Siobhon. She has been my little shadow for as long as she's been with us. I think it began on her very first day. She felt alone, and out of place (as anyone would in her situation), she has a 'funny' name from Ireland that was hard for the other children to pronounce, and despite being born and raised in St. Croix she speaks English differently than the other Cruzan children. Siobhon felt even more out of place because her mother had just recently shaved her head that had once been home to lots and lots of long beautiful dark brown hair making her look more like an Auschwitz survivor than a regular 6 year-old.
The other children would make fun of her appearance ... mostly, her freckles. They would look at them and point one out amongst the others on her face and say, "Are those freck-uhls?" the word would fall out foreign and awkward from their mouths. As if even having to say it put them off.
But I would push up my sleeves and start to count the freckles on my arm, on my face, and the children would point out that one I always forget about above my right eyebrow. Miss Molly has freckles. Also, I told her that my first name is Irish ... just like hers. And we spoke English the same way, and outside when everyone was playing, she would stroke my hair with little chubby fingers and say, "I used to have hair just like this."
Siobhon thought I was pretty cool because of all of that ... and I have to say, I thought Siobhon was pretty awesome herself.
She and I had been reading The Witches together, and her eyes would get big as she lay under the covers in her bed and I told her stories of witches hidden in the corners of England with no toes, no hair, long pointy noses ... and she would giggle with nervous excitement as I would describe exactly how these witches might gobble up little children. She has this active imagination and I LOVED to join in. Imaginative play was my most favorite thing as a kid - who am I kidding ... I'm a writer now ... imaginative play is still my favorite!
Time passed and her hair has grown hand over fist and one of the original teasers became her very best friend, and I even got to play tooth fairy twice! The tooth fairy even had to write a letter explaining it all because she didn't realize how valuable those teeth really are! (which reminds me, my 5 year old ... and Siobhon's best friend just lost her first tooth tonight, and she accidentally threw it away in the garbage ... kids these days ... just don't understand the value of a good dollar ... perhaps another letter is in order ... ;)
Siobhon was just my little angel, and I miss her, very, very much.
Her brother wasn't officially mine ... but he was kind of a harder kid to work with sometimes ... and because I thought he was the beesknees and was less likely to kill him in a fit of frustration ... he was shooed towards me all the time. Oh little Ken* ... he was so sweet. But he would have these little outbursts.
"You're a little f***er"
"When I grow up, I'm going to tear this cottage down!"
"You're a d*** head!"
But after all, he's still only three ... and after a little outburst he still just wanted to be held as he would lay his head on your shoulder and suck his thumb. Sometimes he would pat my back and whisper into my ear ... "You're my favorite mommy." (he says that to three of us ... what a player that Ken! ;) ) You had to watch out though because he had lost some of his previous potty training and was prone to 'springing a leak' on the people he was snuggled up to. He didn't go to school, and so he was always my little bud, along with Pebbles* and the three of us loved to go and play at the park, and as I would push Ken in the swing he would stretch out a little arm and say, "Miss Molly! Miss Molly! I'm touching the sky! I can touch it with my fingers!"
I miss them both so much. But I know that it so much better for them to be with this family member.
Bittersweet.
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