'the stuff that never happened' .... good thing for me...

In a life we dream, fantasize and eventually live out what we believe or know to be true.  For some their life seems to be 'magical', others it is always hard and then there is Annabelle, the mother, soon to be grandmother, discovering she never left her lover from her past, until the two meet in her present reality.  I read the book, "The stuff that never happened," by Maddie Dawson, pretty much in one sitting, and yet I have been thinking about the ideas it has portrayed for the past few weeks. 

I have been thinking about the past and how it tries to push it's way into the present.  I know, it seems like a Zen thing to say, or maybe not....perhaps that is just reality.  How do I avoid my past determining my future, as so many pop-psychology books outline.  How do my husband and I, avoid being an 'old relationship' as our 14th anniversary sneaks up on us this year?  How do I parent my 6 year old daughter so she does not grow up to make the same mistakes as myself? 

Seems dramatic, I know, but I really did think about these concepts even in the midst of taking little Margo swimming, to art camp, grocery shopping, and all the other things mom's do when their child is 6 years old.  And what I discovered is that I have chosen to live and embrace the past and present.  I figure the past has worked its way into who I am, even the sad experiences of friendships made and lost, or pregnancies enjoyed and ended before their time.  I think that is a little secret to making an enriched life.  I do not separate my past from who I am, but create a patchwork quilt, of the choices and lifestyles I have lead, and find in that way, they have no power over me now. 

I and my husband have found it challenging, and engaging to talk about our relationship every so often during the past 14 years of marriage.  Some discussions have gone by the wayside, other's are looked upon with a smile and satisfaction.  Margo is 6 years old, and it gets a little more difficult to keep those heart to heart conversations coming throughout the weeks.  You know, too tired, or one of us is distracted by our 'attention starved' child.  But, we do work at it.  Really work at it, even if it means the conversation creates a temporary wrinkle in our relationship.  Learning to listen to each other, and continuing to discover about each other, is our key to not becoming an "old relationship" to each other.  I love to fix things, ha!!! I love to fix people too!!!  That can be dangerous, so I have to learn to listen, even when it feels uncomfortable. 

Upon occasion, I ask Mark, "honey what is it that bugs you about me?"  I know that can be a loaded question, but I was thinking I could work on changing that part a little bit.  So the list starts, "you fly by the seat of your pants when embarking on doing something new, ..." etc, etc, etc...  So when he ended his commentary, I took a deep breath and whispered, "So what do you like about me?"  And the list started again, "You fly by the seat of your pants....you stretch me and make me take risks...."  And we both realized, all the things he thought he didn't like about me were and are the things he likes about me in the first place.  Yes I drive my husband crazy at times, and he does the same for me, we are very very different from each other.  Perhaps that is what creates an adventure for our present and our future.  It is just good to be reminded of this every so often.  That keeps us young.

I have come to realize I cannot protect my daughter from everything, or even the ups and downs in life.  What I can do is help her learn how to process her feelings and the things that happen about her.   It can be very messy at times, especially when she just breaks down and cries and nothing seems to comfort her.  Those are the times I look her in the eye and just say, "ummhm, oh...that sounds hard..." and eventually she calms down, and we snuggle.  We try to provide her a host of experiences in her life, in the hopes these become a rich treasure chest from which to find answers to her own questions about living.  Yes I limit her T.V. and movies when at home, and I also find she is making choices about movies she thinks would be appropriate for her to watch or not watch.  She is actually self regulating, "Mom, that movie about ghost busters, has too many guns and it is too scary, so I do not want to see it."  She is regulating her world.  And I am guessing that is the best way to protect her.  She learns as we provide a bit of guidance rather than just control.

So yes, I indulged myself into some thinking after reading "the stuff that never happened" and have decided, I have a very happening life.

The book "the stuff that never happened," by Maddie Dawson, was provided free by the From Left to Write book club.

PS...I just read this to my husband and he now denies any knowledge of the list......I gotta love him and his humor.

1st Day of Summer what is a mom to do?

She slept in and then it was off for bagels and bacon, followed by swim practice.  At first we were going to skip swim practice, but Margo told me she slept as long as she could and well that left room for swim practice.  Now we are at the library with her friend Aria.  We came to the Vineland branch, it has a great kids area, and special computers just for them.  Ok, this will cover half the day, but I have an open slot between library and gymnastics, what to do then?  Oh did I tell you I am trying to create TV Free Days.  Yes I am crazy to even think of such a thing, but I want to know if it is possible.  Do I have it in me to fill the day with creativity, quiet time, study time, play time and even cooking time?  I do not know, but today is the first day to try.

Do I have goals for summer with Margo?  Yes a big resounding yes!  Whatever they are and I will lay them out here, each must be surrounded by friends, adventure and fun, FAF, if you need a mnemonic of some sort.  FAF is a great way to start the first day of summer.  Margo's adventure starts with a bit of 'controlled chaos', by playing a game of sharks and minnows in the pool with the swim team.  Her coaches try to encourage her to catch someone, and she heads for them, then averts off towards the wall, wanting to get there first.  Eventually she will figure out the order of sharks and minnows.  There really is order in chaos, and eventually Margo will learn to understand that.  But right now, I put her in the middle of it all.  When she looks a bit confused the coach steps in and tells her that she is a shark now, or a minnow, and then all rights itself.  Next week, one of the coaches will join in the fun, and then she will learn a bit more about order and fun in chaos.

Today, the library is her choice destination to share with her friend Aria.  Right now they are on the kiddie computer playing games together.  I just hear them laughing, so that is a good thing.  Every day needs a large dose of laughter, not just for little Margo, but for me too.  Now what to do with the hours after lunch and before gymnastics?  hmmmm  I think we will cook together.  I  better find an interesting recipe for all the vegetables I have in the fridge.  I think 'stoup' is in order for dinner and weekend.  See you all next time as I continue the summer story.

One week later since I started this post, we were TV free until today.  Today she said she would not watch TV for the rest of the year if I let her watch Curious George today.  Knowing that going the rest of the year would be way too difficult, I could not stand the thought of all the requests with please, pretty please, pleeeeeasssee mommmmmmm...I suggested how about until another week passes by.  She thought that was a splendid idea.

Loosing the first tooth....Lots to learn!

Here, did you see the problem?  What once were nice straight baby teeth, were becoming crooked and displaced by an eager adult tooth's entrance and the lingering solid presence of the baby tooth.  What was a mother to do?

Call the dentist, and I did, eventually, about three weeks later.  At that visit, the dentist was quick to explain we only had about two more weeks to encourage the baby tooth to fall out on its own.  Otherwise, we were headed for desperate measures, according to me.  Well the two weeks past and then we were back at the dentist.  Thank goodness Dr. Ligh knew what he was doing.  However, I being the skittish type, had to learn to become a good hand holder for Little Margo.  The bravery a mother can conjure up on behalf of their child is amazing.  I suppose I should include a few more detailed photo's of the event. 

For instance, Margo entered the treatment room and jumped up onto the couch herself, distracted by the TV built into the ceiling.  She was outfitted with goggles, and earphones and actually looked relaxed.   I suppose she was trying to ignore what was about to happen, or most likely just enjoying the movie.

Next Dr. Ligh informed Margo to relax while he placed some medicine on her tooth, to make it go to sleep.  Ok, that was easy enough, or so I thought.  He waited a few minutes and then re-applied the medicine.  It was at this point she started to shudder or shake.  Something I would do at a moments notice, hard to believe I gave birth so bravely sometimes.  But there is just this thing about the dentist office, and the drilling, and the fillings,...well I have wondered away from our story.  So next she was outfitted with a special mask used to inhale that concoction of Nitrous Oxide/Oxygen gas.  Now she became quite relaxed in about three minutes. 

Yes it was time for that final shot, or shots.  The needle is still long, just like I remember it.  But thankfully she was watching the movie and not caring much about anything.  Dr. Ligh explained what would happen, that she would feel a little pinch, and that was that.  She did not move or cry or anything.  The best part  of the procedure thus far was her being so relaxed. 

Finally the pliers for extracting the tooth were applied to the stubborn incisor, and Dr. Ligh began to say, "Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle....out."  And that was it, the tooth was out.  It really was that quick and pain free.  I was amazed.  Margo was congratulated about her bravery, and a special tooth fairy pillow was provided.  I was beginning to enjoy this type of modern pediatric dentistry.  Who knows, perhaps I will make it to my dentist in the coming months for a check up.  I wonder if she has Nitrous Oxide for Adults?????

And here she is showing that new empty space for the adult tooth to move into.  Yeah Margo!!!!  (Still watching that movie.)

Raising an Enviro-Radical...or just Little Margo

I have been discussing environmental issues with Little Margo since...forever. Yes that's correct, she knows about environmental issues in her own world. For instance, "Mom, quick, pick up that paper on the ground, it hurts the earth!" So, I oblige and then she picks up the next one. "Mom, is the Earth our mother?" "Well sort of Margo, she does provide us all the things we need to live, sort of like I provide your food and love for you." Ok, that comment sort of flies over her head because now she is imagining the earth feeding her with a spoon...you get it. Sharing environmental ideas with a 6 year old does have its challenges.

But in reality, little Margo really does get it. She gets that the air is not always clean and can cause her friends to need inhalers to breathe. She knows about allergies, and she knows about saving electricity because that helps the earth. "Mom, turn off the lights, you are wasting electricity," was her common word throughout last summer. Oh yes, she knows that some people put bad things in the water to make it undrinkable. I am trying to provide her understanding that not all families here in the US have safe water to drink. Did you know that? It is not just in some other country where the drinking water is contaminated with all sorts of chemicals from coal mining or some other industrial polluter...it happens here. "Jennifer Hall-Massey knows not to drink the tap water in her home near Charleston, W.Va." (Ref New York Times, Toxic Waters a series about the worsening pollution in American waters and regulators' response)

An Enviro-Radical, that is what our little family is becoming, or at least trying to become. It starts with understanding the problem and then finding simple ways to participate in the solutions. I was recently provided a book by the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog book club called, Green Guide Families, The complete Reference for Eco-friendly parents, written by Catherine Zandonella. I quickly looked up the chapter about cloth diapers vs. disposable diapers to see if my choice of cloth was environmentally sound. Unfortunately, my choice to use a diaper service pretty much eliminated any of the environmental benefits for this choice. However, my daughter did not suffer from the diaper rashes she so readily had when using the disposable diapers. I just did not have it in me, to wash the diapers myself. So we were not "E-Radicals" in this choice.

On to food choices, I did purchase organic baby food in glass jars. Not because it was the healthiest choice, but it so happened to be a better financial deal...However, I have made up for this for buying organic fruits and vegetables where needed. For instance I know I should buy organic carrots, but not necessarily organic eggplants when it comes to pesticide exposure. Buying organic can be expensive so I pick and choose about what I buy. There is a great list as an ECO-TIP: Top Foods to Buy Organic published in the Green Guide Families, check out page 97. I also have been discussing with my husband about decreasing our power footprint. So this means I purchase local whenever possible. Sometimes it is a bit more expensive; however the benefit is the taste! (Ok, ok, I will admit it the health too!) Regarding organic milk and hormone fed to cows to keep them pumping, this has been a topsy turvy choice. Why, organic milk is so much more expensive! We live on a budget, so what to do? I have read articles with for and against the thoughts of milk and hormones and affecting the early development of our young girls. But right now there is nothing hard in facts regarding cause and effect of organic milk vs. regular milk. I know someone is going to write a comment and that is fine. Although I find the data conflicting I play safe and purchase the organic milk. According to the Green Guide Families, these hormones do pose a threat to the cows, to add reason to my choice. Actually the comment that best got me hooked on organic milk was made by a dairy farmer in Petaluma. He mentioned that most farmers do not use rBST anymore, because the cows don't handle it well, but they do use other hormones. Darn, now I need to buy milk that just says no hormones! So yes 90% of the time I buy organic milk, and feel better.

I think the best place to go in honor of the upcoming Earth Day is the Monterey Bay Aquarium to see the Hot Pink Flamingos Exhibit. It was amazing, and became a very impactful place for the two 6 year olds I brought along. It opens up looking at our own Monterey Bay and the problem of crustations, and coral becoming brittle. Eventually it is understood the pH of the bay water is becoming less alkaline and more acidic, causing the brittleness of shells, bones and coral. Acidity, that famous concept now associated with all kinds of disease in our own bodies. And how does the bay get affected by humanity? Margo and her friend Alexandra could tell you, Air Pollution! By the end of the exhibit, Alexandra is writing a pledge in her kindergarten spelling to skate more instead of riding in the car. Margo writes about how pollution hurts the earth and she will use less electricity or something to that effect. Me, well I did pledge to ride my bike to do the shopping, and yes I am slowly working to that effect, by riding the bike at the gym. Soon I will ride my bike to the gym for my workouts, and then on to grocery shopping.

With Earth Day coming up this week, I plan on doing something with Margo to make another change in our family in our quest to minimize our family pollution to the earth. Margo will be happy, as will I, so will 'Mother Earth' and yes, I will continue to raise an Enviro-Radical!

Passing on hockey passion to the 4th generation....Little Margo

I love hockey, my mom, the first little Margo, loves hockey and she learned to be passionate about hockey from her mom, Grandmamma. (We always called her just Grandmamma, of course we did give her the nick name of 'young chick', but that is another story.)

Growing up we used to watch our mom yell and scream in French of course at the guys flying around on ice on the black and white TV. It was amazing to see the energy and voice come out of this little petite 5foot 1inch woman who weighed less than 110 lbs. Most persons found my mom to be sweet and kind, and yet when it was Stanley cup time, her hockey gloves were tossed and out came some of the loudest screams I ever heard leaving our house. She was engaging in her hockey passion and still is to this date!

All of my brother in laws and sister in laws have become fans of hockey because of my mom, Grandmamma Margo; I am hoping little Margo will grow a liking, or should I say passion for this very fun and crazy game. In fact, Grandmamma Margo's influence  reaches out to all of her grandchildren and even their boyfriend's regarding hockey and the teams to follow. You may have guessed her first and favorite team was and is the Montreal Canadians. She used to watch Henri Richard play hockey in their backyard every winter growing up. Her mom would have the kids flood the backyard from their garden hose to create the ice rink. At one point she provided the boards for the rink and then her dad got into the act by hanging a light so they could play in the dark. My mom would watch her brothers play along with Richard, and cheer them on to wins in the neighborhood. My mom was very quick to point out she learned her hockey passion from her mother, not her dad. I have learned my hockey passion from my mom, and not my dad. And soon, I hope little Margo will learn hockey passion from me.

Tonight was the beginning of exposing little Margo to hockey and her crazy mom, (that would be me), yelling along with the crowd at High Five, to encourage, our favorite team, the San Jose Sharks. No I do not own anything resembling a hockey jersey or hat, but I know what icing is, and the various penalties our players will create. Tonight I got a bit carried away with some encouraging phrases like: "Shoot the puck!", "Get in front of the net" and "Replace our goalie". My favorite phrase of the night was YES! You got it we scored 6 times. My next most used phrase was "Nooooo!” the Colorado Avalanche scored 5 times. And once to my chagrin I used the word "Idiot", in reference to Nabby when he went to push the puck from behind his net, when he should have remained at his position protecting the goal. The next thing you know, the Avs scored. However, it was pointed out by little Margo that "idiot", is not as bad as the "S" word, you know "stupid", and then she added that "DUMB" was king of all the bad words.  So, with the knowledge that my daughter was listening, I did not use any of those bad words for the rest of the evening.

When the San Jose Sharks scored, I would rise to my feet and raise my arms in triumph, and she would watch. When the other team scored, I would cry out "Nooooo!" and she would watch. She did realize that the Sharks were the home team, meaning, she learned something tonight, but I am not sure what else she learned.

Perhaps little Margo learned the fun of eating pizza and drinking Gaiter-aid at High Five restaurant, and that this happens when we watch hockey. So now you have my trick to introducing her to liking hockey, it is the pizza, and Gaiter-aid that goes with the show. Perhaps for now, that is what she will associate with hockey, but I am hoping, in the very near future, she too will understand the thrill of a goal, and the disappointment of a sloppy loss. Perhaps she too will agree with me and yell, "change the goalie!", or a simple "shoot the puck" will suffice as the beginning of her passion for hockey in the 4th generation.

Cooking with the Margo and sometimes her friends too....

I am only now starting the adventure of cooking with little Margo on a more regular basis.  I know, I know, I have cooked cakes with her and her friends when she was but a three year old, we even made very pretty cookies, but now, I am looking to teaching her about cooking.  Really, really learning about cooking and measuring and learning the little tricks I know.  No, I most likely do not know a lot of tricks with cooking; I do improvise quite a bit, because I may not have everything I need.  Even when I go to the store with a list of ingredients in hand, I somehow forget to purchase something.  I have decided to chalk it up to those pre-menopausal losses of memory and organization.  (Ok, I added the organization part on my own; there is no loss of organization in this stage of life, for those of you who are organized!  But the memory part is true!) 

Our adventures in 'real' cooking started about a month ago, when I invited little Margo to help me prepare dinner.  She was quite excited about the prospect of making dinner, including the ceremonial washing of hands and wearing her own apron.  I was provided the chefs hat for that meal.  She explained to me, "Mom, you are the chef and I am the girl assistant, I learned this from Ratatouille."  I suppose being compared to Ratatouille was good, she was very clear to point out I was not the mean chef at all.  With that settled, Margo's job was to peel the potatoes and the carrots and the rutabaga, for the mashed side dish.  At first I helped her hold the potato and the peeler as she used them; I was rather concerned her lack of coordination would mean missing finger tips later tonight.  She did seem to master the peeling task as best a 6 year old can do.  Her favorite part was placing all the items together in the pot to be boiled into our family specialty.  The best part about this is that she ate this side dish with gusto! 

Today, we decided to tackle Krispie Fish "Fingers" with Lemon Mayo Dip,  and Handheld Apple Pies. Both Recipes can be found in Annabel karmel's, "Top 100 Finger Foods, 100 recipes for a healthy, happy child."  I had been perusing this book for the past two weeks, thinking it would be perfect to help Margo and I get into some new cooking styles.  I do not think I can make the dish look as beautiful as Annabel's presentations; however I knew I could cook.  It didn't matter I had never fried a breaded fish stick in my life, nor made little apple pie type of finger foods.  Heck today was my adventure day for cooking.  So yes, I made a list, went to the store, got home, cleaned the kitchen and put all the food away, then picked up Margo from school.  She watched Curious George on TV, while I gave the kitchen one last quick makeover.  It really was clean and organized when we started. 

Here is the photo of my kitchen after we completed making the Krispy Fish Fingers....I swear to you it was clean when we started, and no we had not been cooking for hours and hours...well I did mention my organization issues earlier on in this blog!

In the end I burned the first test fish fingers while trying to fry them...did I tell you I rarely fry!  So for dinner, I baked them on a skillet in the BBQ.  It worked great, and I only used a little oil so we still had the Krispy affect.  Oh I must confess, I used Cod, (memory), Corn Flakes rather than Rice Krispy's, (again memory), I added some Flax seed (to help my memory) to the mix as well as the sesame seeds.  We all enjoyed them.  Yes I cleaned my kitchen one more time, to create those hand held apple pies.

Margo helped me here too, she not only buttered the filo dough, but created monster tracks on the dough as well.  No I did not yell when the track caused a hole in the dough...ok, I did get a little excited.  This was the first time I ever used filo dough correctly, with butter....lots of butter if the truth be told.  But in the end I baked these little cuties in the BBQ too.  It worked out great.

Humor must always accompany my cooking!  Why?  Come on look at that photo of my kitchen, I must have a sense of humor, or I would never cook again!  We completed the serving of the desert with our friend, "The rubber chicken", that was the final monster who wanted a taste of the tasty apple offering.  In the end, we both had a fun time cooking together, making real memories and learning a few lessons about cooking.

I am so glad my husband does the dishes!  At least he enjoyed his dinner, actually we all did!

I enjoyed this cookbook by Annabel Karmel, and was glad I received it free while being a part of Silicon Valley Mom's book club.

Bon Appetite;  Mommy Max, the French Mommy born in California.

Camping in the winter....

This past weekend, we took the plunge, and went camping at New Brighten Beach State Park, just outside of Santa Cruz, California.  For two weeks prior to the trip I had been watching the weather forcast.  Rain on Friday, and Saturday with a possibility of sunshine on Sunday.  I skipped the forcast watching on Friday, figuring if it rained or shined we were committed to go camping.

Mark took the day off, just to help both of us get ready.  Margo attended school and was relieved to know we would pack for her while she was at school.  We were set to meet up with friends somewhere around 4:00 PM at the campsight.  Of course we were just pulling out of San Jose at 3:45 PM, no we did not arrive at 4:00, but we did arrive only 3 minutes behind our friends.  Good thing they left late too!  Birds of a feather flock together I say.

Folks I mentioned our little adventure to, gave us more then double takes, more like the expression "what are you thinking, it is going to rain..."  Well we just decided it was time to learn to do things with or without the rain.  The weather was not going to dictate our life of adventure.  So off to New Brighten State Beach, we went.  Community and camping always seem to go together.  Our friends set up their camp in a matter of minutes.  They had the RV.  We on the other hand were totally retro, meaning, tents, camp stove, rain gear, etc... etc... etc...  Fortunately for us Brian and Kim were very helpful in the setting up of our camp.

Saturday morning found us walking the beach. It was beautiful. Margo was intent on building a sand man, so we provided the carrot for the nose and other items from the beach for the hat, (a rock), hair, (seaweed), and mouth, (twigs). She actually did a great job with the materials at hand. Next thing I know, she is lying on her back going through the exercise of making 'sand angels'. Now you might be thinking it sounds like snow adventures...but we really were at the beach. This just goes to show the imagination a child can have in tune with the winter season.

Were we prepared?  That was a good question, you tell me.  Lets see on Saturday you could have found me at Ross looking for a blanket to help us keep warm at night.  The sleeping bag was not warm enough...I swear it was freezing temperatures!  But no rain!!!!  I also needed my internet fix...I know, I know, nature needs to be enough, however I still had a few responsibilities to look after.  Thank goodness for Starbucks.  Yes I loved the coffee too!  Mark stayed back with Margo, the two spent the afternoon, folding and flying paper airplanes. 

Oh yes, I forgot to mention our supplies for Saturday dinner were eaten by the little bandits with the sharp claws.  We forgot about the hunger of our furry friends.  These little guys totally enjoyed our chocolate, marshmellows, tortilla soup, cheese and sour cream.  I am not sure what order they ate them in, although there was a trail of leftovers.  Good thing Kim had packed extra food...enough to last the weekend.

Both evenings were enjoyed eating good food around the camp fire.  Smores were the highlight for all of our sweet tooths.  The saturday night variety seemed so much tastier than the night before.  I wonder why, perhaps the chocolate was a little better, or we were all a bit more relaxed.  We loved the fires every night, morning and afternoon.  I did mention it was cold and sunny.  Right now, we are working through our smokey laundry.

All in all camping in the winter proved to be a fun adventure.  I think you just have to go with the right people.  Thank you Brian, Kim and Christopher!  We had a great time.

School Days in Togo, West Africa

The morning starts with a classroom filled to the brim. They place 63 students aged 6, 7 & 8 all together in their classroom.  There is one teacher!  There are no parent volunteers, because the parents are all working to literally put food on the table. 

Chalk dust is everywhere.  If you have such an allergy, school is no place for you.  There are rags to wipe clean the chalk boards, and there are many chalk boards.  The front of the classroom is lined in large black slate chalk boards, covered with words or numbers or whatever the lesson of the day happens to be.  The desks are covered with individual slates boards, the types we would by our children as a toy.  There are no pens and papers for this class right now.  It is better to write your answer on the slate and wipe it away prior to the next question.  This reminds me of class only imagined in Laura Ingles Little House on the Prairie.  But it is reality, here in Togo.

Uniforms?  Sure each child has at least one.  If they get it dirty, I was told the teacher tells them to turn it inside out for the rest of the day.  I personally find that to be a convenient way of stalling on the laundry.  I wonder if I could do that with Margo at school, or would I start seeing notes sent home about the appearance of my daughter. 

What else do I notice about both classrooms we visit?  There is order...yes order I say.  One teacher has been at her profession for three years, since she graduated from college herself.  I inquired as to issues of discipline in the classroom, her response.  "I have no problems."  I believe her.  The kids here seem to want to learn.  Yes it is crowded, yes it is hot, and I am guessing many have not eaten breakfast, But, their hands go up to get a chance to answer the question.  Or their hands go up to be chosen to review the French grammar on the front board.  There they go, holding a small plank of sorts as their pointer.  That chosen child is now directing the class for that moment, with their pointer and their answer.  With the correct answer, the teacher instructs the kids to give themselves a cheer.  It is a cheer of specific rhythmic clapping.  It is performed in unison with much vigor.  And its sound is beautiful to me.  Here in Lome, Togo, children enjoying learning even though they do not have the best of anything.

This is the successful story of one young teacher, dressed in a white blouse and long black skirt.  She is committed to these children, and they in kind respond back to her.

I was telling the social workers how impressed I was with this class.  And she quietly responded, it is possible this teacher is here just for today, because the government knew we would be coming.  I was a little doubtful, but when we entered the next classroom I found myself believing the story a little more.

This room still had order, but it seemed a little tighter.  The kids seemed more afraid than happy and joyful.  The teacher was male; he wore a Hawaian type shirt and a baseball cap.  He carried a piece of orange hose with him, anywhere he walked in the classroom.  He did not smile, not even once.  Yes this class room had order, but I wonder if it was missing the wonder in discovery?

Next Monsieur le teacher barked out his order for dictation.  "écrivez, le numero dix," he said.  The children bent over their slates and wrote the answer.  Each would lift it up high over his head to show the answer.  Mister teacher would tap each slate and pronounce, "correct, or Pas correct".  By the way he was holding the piece of orange hose above his shoulder on the right and point to the child to answer the question with his left hand.  Yes if you are imagining a lion tamer that would be an apt description.

Moving on from the math lesson he went on to French grammar.  Again dictations would be pronounced and each child would diligently write the answer on the slate and raise it for their teacher's approval or disapproval.  He never smiled.  I was not sure if he was glad we were there.

We decided to sing a silly song to the kids, just as we had done in the classroom before.  It took a while before they started to laugh at our ridiculous gesturs.  Even the teacher lightened up for a minute or two.

Children in Togo do not speak French at home, but as soon as they enter kindergarten, their classes are taught in only French.  French becomes a language used to provide some sense of unity among a country with at least 32 different tribal peoples and distinct languages.  The problem is more children drop out of school before they have a chance to complete the course. Why?  Some need to work, others don't like it.  Would you like it if your teacher was the gardener? 

You see, the last teacher we saw, was the gardener for the school.  I applaud him for stepping up to the plate to give teaching a try.  I give thumbs down to the government for not paying its teachers, so the school had to hire the gardener.  I can understand why he had the piece of hose in his hand during the day.  It surely was an item of familiarity to him as much as a stick to the children.  And yes, I was told, he most likely hit a few of the kids with that hose upon occasion.  But this was not the case today. 

I reviewed some of the course work materials provided to the students.  They were little paper booklets with exercise sheets in them.  They looked similar to those my daughter gets in her school.  There were simple posters on the wall, describing the germination of a seed, and all its parts.  So yes there was a sense science was taught.  But in the end there were no brightly colored papers hanging on the walls, no letters of the alphabet or number lines hanging on the walls.  They were just walls.  Yet in at least one of the classrooms, there were children eager to learn.  These are children who laugh and enjoy the moment of silliness we provide.

These two classrooms are found in government schools.  Currently serious parents who appreciate education send their kids to private schools.  And if I understand correctly, there is a small voucher from the government of sorts to help with the cost.  Our kids are also provided funds through our giving with Compassion International, to help with attending a private school if that is the desire of the parent.  You never know what kind of education you will get at the public school.  A teacher or a gardener, it could be either one.

In some ways the public versus private school education discussion sounds all too familiar over here.  Over there the difference can be between a teacher and a gardener.  I wonder if our children like their schools?   I wonder if I will need to send Margo to a private school one day with all the cuts and politicking going on in our part of the world.  Will we see vouchers?  Would that mean our public schools would be abandoned?  I don't know the answers to any of these questions.  But I did just tell you what I observed in Togo.  I am just glad we have a school down the block to send little Margo.

My first drives through Lome...what did I see? What did I learn?

My first drive into town from our hotel was an adventure of its own. It was early afternoon, we had time for a 30 minute nap, followed by a long lunch near the sea shore. Our mini bus pulled out onto the main road, and I immediately began to take pictures out the window. My thoughts were captured by the elegance of the women balancing their purchases or wares upon their heads. Each one, carried their load with strength, grace and confidence.

I noticed the smells, of once burning plastics, or was it oils, I was not sure. The grounds were covered with small fire embers, piled to the sides or in the middle of some of the smaller roads. I really did not notice piles of garbage, or the huge over crowding I found regularly in Calcutta, India, many years ago. I saw lots of goats; big goats, small goats, momma goats, the whole shebang. So though there was poverty, there did seem to be a sense of order about the town.

Why the goats? Why the little embers? Both these tools tackled the same problem...garbage. Yes, the people of Lome, burned the garbage in small piles every night; this accounted for the smokey smell about the city. The goats roamed free to take care of the remainder of the garbage. It was an interesting way to deal with an issue that could wreak havoc in a city where I saw no garbage collectors.

I also learned the basics of sales and store ownership through our minibus window. Have you noticed the picture of the outdoor lean-to with the hanging shoes? Yes you guessed it, the local shoe store. That store owner provided quite a display of his wares; other vendors had far fewer shoes to sell. Attaching items to poles, or letting them hang was the official style of display.

Would you like a little gas to run that motorcycle, or Moped for the day? How about a bottle of petrol? The roadside gas stop. It was a table with a variety of bottles filled with oil, or gasoline, or whatever made your engine go. It is sold in small alliquots, just what you need for the day. The new 'just-in-time' lifestyle. You purchased what you would have used for the day. This concept extended to everyday items of food and spices. In the opposite picture you see a stand, selling sugar by the cup or less, or even tablespoons of salt.  Note the pre-measured cans of charcoal, just the right amount for the days cooking. In reality, just-in-time becomes, just enough.

Shopping for a little food everyday, or if you happen to be among the poor, you are shopping only on the days you have a little money. It is a hard life here in Lome, Togo, for those with materially little. There is no refrigeration, nor running water at your home. Your home may only be a 6 by 8 foot steel shack with steel rooftop. Imagine that as your 'castle' for your family of six. Oh, did I mention the temperature was up to 95 degrees and the humidity was above 70%? The floor was pounded dirt, and a bench was hidden inside. The treasures of the family were stored neatly up the side of the walls inside your home. This was the picture of the simple steel shack you saw in this post. This really was the home of Liza, my sponsored child. Their reality, they will not have food every day, and her stove/oven was the size of bucket. In fact the clay oven was formed in a bucket, I could see the imprints of the bucket seams on the side. There was a tree just outside the front door, a place where the neighbors and family members would sit to keep out of the heat of the day. It was a house like this, and many others which were hidden behind the tall walls lining the streets of Lome. If we had never been behind the walls, I would not have known or seen this poverty. Lome, the city of 'poverty hidden'.

But within these hidden areas, there was also a richness and wonder to life, that did not escape my notice.  But for this next adventure, it really meant, getting out of the bus, moving beyond the window panes, and learning the 'more' lived out by those with so much less...all discovered when meeting my families in Africa. 

Lome, Togo, it only took us 3-days to get there....

Joy Standing guard over the 15 bags at SFO, the start of our adventure.

It was Friday, we arrived at the airport excited, all four of us. My husband drove us, Rod, and Timothy, the two others who were part of our group, leaving for Togo West Africa. Peter, our guide and leader extraordinaire was to meet us at the airport in San Francisco. It had already been decided we should arrive around noon, to ensure we made it through the new and improved TSA screening process, and catch our plane. We were the first to arrive, eventually followed by Peter, our Compassion leader for the trip. Then the others started to arrive. We were all assembled, and now in line to check in, however, no Air France employee was there to meet the already long line of passengers waiting for service.. Our 15 bags to check in were piled in a spot taking up quite a bit of square footage of the terminal floor. And so we waited. Hurry up and wait best describes the first 3 days of our trip! Then the light on the flight board started to flash, Delayed….Delayed is all it said, and we knew we most likely would not arrive in Lome, Togo for quite a bit longer.

Four countries, three days and two nights later is when we actually arrived at the Lome airport. Was I tired? Yes, did I have a clue as to the day of the week when we arrived? No, not really. In the midst of those three very long days, I was already quickly becoming the group’s French / English translator. It did not matter I think my French level was that of a 4th grader, and I gave myself a lot of extra pats on the back to even say that. But let’s go backward a day or two, and learn together about adversity, flexibility and the making of a team. Why? We became a team during those first three days of travel together.

I need to tell you about Peter first. He was our guide/leader provided by Compassion International to lead our team. I wonder what he thought of us upon seeing our group. Once getting through security and ending up at the gate to wait, everyone pulled out i-phone, macs, laptops etc…to get connected one last time while here in the USA. We did not talk much one to another, but dealt with our own insular worlds, reading magazines and even a book or two. An hour into waiting at the gate, Peter stands up and says, “ok, I am ready to talk with you and let you know a bit about the trip.” We gather about him, sitting on the two rows of chairs at the gate, and we wait. “I was a compassion boy,” he states, and then begins to share a little of his own background with poverty and coming out of it because of Compassion International. Peter was from Uganda, Africa, so he was familiar with the people we were about to visit, their customs, and perceptions of the spoken word.

“Flexibility, our middle name was to become flexibility,” Peter stated. “Yes there is an itinerary, but, if we are engaged with a group or a family we will stay and listen and give them the time. The trip is not about the itinerary, it is about the children, the families we will meet. Listen,” he says, “Listen,” Peter said again. “Ask questions; discover the issues or complexities of their needs at hand. Do NOT, I repeat DONOT offer solutions. Not even the brainstorming we American’s like to do! In fact do not discuss the possibility of a solution in earshot of those we are visiting.” Why, you might ask? Because we all had that same question on our lips. Peter’s answer came as a little story about coffee. “When I came to America, and my friends would say, let’s get together for coffee sometime, I really thought they meant it. I was so hurt when we did not go for coffee; I took them at their word.” All of this to say, if we mentioned the possibility of solving the problem, or ideas how to expand the work, it was now an instant promise of help…It was the ‘done deal’. Here in Africa, what you say is what you do, or what you mean.

There is a hierarchy in Africa, the man is tops, followed by the woman and then last of all, the children. For Peter, this meant “I was never able to speak to my father eye to eye, until I was 24 years old.” Later during the trip, we would learn more of Peter and his life growing up, how he was sponsored by the director of Compassion in Uganda, How he learned the value of his life, and other children, his education which is vast, and the door of opportunity opened to him, because one person, one family cared for him through Compassion.

Peter continues in his discussion, “The men and women will watch how we interact with the children. The fun we have with them, the love we have for them, the care we exercise towards them. Something happens in their observation and suddenly they too want to participate with their own children in the same fashion.” It is Peter’s final comment from that first discussion in the airport which ruminates with me throughout the initial days of travel, “Prepare to be loved,” he says, “prepare to be loved.” “You will have 6 or 10 kids hanging off of your arms and hands as you walk through the centers. You will be the mother or father to your own sponsored child, not because their mother or father are not there or do not care, but because the concept of family is so broad and engaging in Africa.”

Flexibility training, I now believe with all my heart, missing a plane, traveling all night, not once but twice, encountering food allergies, and colds, among a group of 10, was the perfect preparation for our trip. And so, the story of our fist three days continues…

Peter, Rod and Timothy, wait for the bus in the sleet, while we wait inside the airport at Paris.

We arrived in Paris on Saturday morning, and we literally ran to the next gate, all 10 of us, thinking, or wildly hoping they held the plane for us. But that was not the case. We soon learned traveling to Lome, Togo was literally not an every day occurrence, and the earliest we could leave would be Sunday afternoon. During this run to the new gate, Rod dropped his passport. And yes, for about 30 minutes, we wondered if he would be leaving much later, assuming a visit to the US embassy was needed. So imagine for the moment, Rod is being walked around everywhere we had passed, since the most recent security station, with the police officer at his side. Another group, containing John and a few others, went off on their own to look for Rod’s passport. They could go anywhere because they had their passports and tickets. And yes we had already gone through all 10 plus carry-on’s, just in case his passport got slipped into one of our bags. In the midst of this, Peter was discussing with Air France, about what to do with the Americans.

In the end we were sent to the IBIS hotel, about 10 minutes from the airport, with a ticket ensuring we all would eat dinner and breakfast over the next 12 hours. In the midst of this we also had an opportunity to sleep. I am guessing I slept a total of 4 hours before arising at 4 AM Sunday morning. My roommate was also awake, so we just chatted. There was the hope of trying to get to Paris and see the Eifel tower, but it was freezing, and I only had a light summer jacket. Useless for this weather, in fact, I lasted about 5 minutes when trying to walk outside the hotel to get a look around France. We ate a wonderful buffet, and the sounds of French being spoken everywhere was wonderful to me. I felt at home, not that I grew up in France or Quebec, but because my parents did, and they spoke French to us when we were young. So yes, hearing the language, weather I understood it all or not, always touched my heart.

In the morning, taking a roll call of sorts, or really taking stock in our health, the situation looked interesting to say the least. Sherry was covered in welts, that itched, and Dan’s cold seemed to be getting worse. So back to the Charles De Gaul Airport to check in to our new flight schedule tour destination, via Casablanca, Morocco, Agra, Ghana, and then last but not least, Lome Togo. Peter sent all the others to the gate, except Sherry and me. We headed out to find the medical clinic. You see those welts did not look so much like bug bites, but some type of allergic reaction to food. Now I really had to try and speak French and communicate to the pharmacist the symptoms of Sherry. The pharmacist, took a look and gathered the prescribed medicines with directions for Sherry, including she is not allowed to eat any tomatoes or eggs or drink wine for the rest of the trip. She had relief from the symptoms almost instantaneously once she consumed the medicine. I was relieved her issues had been addressed. I was feeling a bit bolder with my French, so I started to explain the cold symptoms of Dan, which seemed to be getting worse. I love saying the word for cold in French, it sounds just like, ‘room’, and then there is another description that sounds like ‘grip’. Using both those words, learning about the sore throat, no fever etc…another set of medicines was provided. The instructions reviewed and written down one last time to ensure I knew what to tell Dan. I just could not imagine flying on the plane with the ears, and sinus all plugged up, so I brought the medicines to Dan and instructed him on their taking. I was pleasantly surprised to see him acquiesce and take the meds. We were just starting day three of the trip, and we had many packed days set before us, so health was very important.  Some slept wherever they could, a row of chairs at the airport seemed safe.

The plane took off and landed in Morocco. I loved the airport in Morocco, it has a sign welcoming us to Casablanca, and of course I am only thinking about the movie and the line, “play it again Sam.” By now I am almost done with a book Victoria gave to me to read, oh my goodness, I was crying like a baby starting with chapter one. Why? Because it was a book describing the life of a man in the US who had it all, realizes it is nothing, and he reaches out to a man who has nothing, and then realizes he has everything. I think the title was “A lot like Me,” and now my heart was being prepared for the trip. Three hours in the airport at Casablanca was enough time to find some Moroccan sandwiches’ and a final discussion with Peter to hear his story. The next flight was to Agra, Ghana, here we did not need to leave the plane, and then our arrival in Lome, Togo.

We made it easily through customs, but Peter was being harassed for a bribe of some sort, which he totally refused to partake in. We started gathering and counting the bags, 1, 2, 3 all they way up to 14, were assembled. Oh, oh, one was missing, the big black one, with precious presents for our children. Hmm, I digress, but I need to let you know, this trip was organized through our church; collectively we sponsor 49 children in Togo, whom we were going to visit, bearing gifts of course. Well, some of the gifts were in that big black bag. So I went off with Timothy to the baggage service area, to explain the situation. It took a while, in fact most of the team had passed through the customs, which was not much to discuss. We had the paperwork in hand; a telephone number to call, and now joined the group on to the bus. You must realize it was now six or seven in the morning of Monday!

Flexible, didn’t I tell you our middle name was to become flexible. It was decided, once at the hotel, we could sleep or rest or do whatever for the next two hours, and then it was time to eat lunch, and the start of our very busy first day. Let’s see, we have been traveling for about 72 hours or so, with a small break in between at the IBIS hotel. Now we have two hours, before the program starts…I am not sure what day of the week it is either, I just plan to go with the flow. In the midst of it all, we became a team, so yes, that was worth the extra time, I think.

What works to fight poverty and is set up to affect thousands in Haiti?

Group picture of all 53 children we support as a church,  Woman walking along the road, Me enjoying our two children we sponsor as a family. 

I just returned from Togo, West Africa this past Sunday afternoon. It was an amazing trip, and I learned much about fighting poverty in very real tangible ways. These are methods that provide a true reality of integrity and honor to the giver and the receiver. The responsibility was shared among the donors, (hopefully you and me), the Compassion Workers and Volunteers, the Children Center partners, and the children and their families. That's right, not only do the children participate in the process of combating poverty in their own lives, but their families step up to provide the emotional support, and time it takes to participate in the program. Compassion International has been around well over 40 years, combating poverty one child at a time. They only recently opened Children Development Centers in Togo, during the past 6 months. I visited the centers and the children, and even several families. I was totally impressed with their approach, and what they have accomplished in such a short few months. In Togo, their work is very young, but they have had a presence in Haiti for over 40 years.
This means, a full generation of children has graduated from the program with their families and are living more fruitful lives. It also means the program is reaching out to over 77,000 at risk children and their families today even before the devastating earthquake struck last week.

Tim Glenn, who works with Compassion international says, in his blog titled, It’s Time to Start Over in Haiti:

 "At the border of the Dominican Republic and Haiti, I saw a couple of relief supply trucks that had been turned into makeshift storefronts. People were trying to sell the food, water and clothing inside. Another example of how important it is for you to make sure you partner with an organization that has established distribution channels.  Many organizations can get stuff here, but don’t know how to distribute it. Parking a truck on the side of the road can cause mayhem. We don’t know exactly how many of our kids are affected. Getting to them all is terribly difficult. Many families fled when the quake hit. Many are sleeping on the streets. Rounding them up is tough. Perhaps one of the most inspiring things I’ve seen is our Haiti staff here. Keep in mind, many of them lost everything in the quake. They lost homes, possessions and sadly, some of them lost loved ones. Yet here they are, working at our makeshift camp every day, trying to help others. Serving in the midst of their pain. Amazing! Please continue to pray for them. They are heroes of the faith. Compassion partners with established local churches in Haiti. We have for more than 40 years. They know us. We know them. And shouldn’t the church be the distribution channel for relief in times of hurt anyway? You are providing for tons of supplies to make it into Haiti. Our first planeload is expected to arrive Friday in the Dominican Republic. It will be transported into Haiti on Saturday. We’ll be able to provide two weeks’ worth of basic necessities to more than 77,000 people"
Please donate using the button above, and become a part of getting another two week kit worth of basic necessities to these 77,000 people, already known by Compassion. I know first hand what Compassion has done in Togo in such a short time, I know they excel in integrity and targeted success. So please support this work in Haiti, as they touch those burdened by loss and death, including their own aid workers.

Thank you,

Maxine