I greeted the month of December with a desire to hibernate and a breakfast of dry Cheerios. The resource center waits for no one, though, and I started the day like any other.
In case you have forgotten in my long-winded posts, Operation School Bell provides brand new clothing to low-income kids K-6. It's run by a group of spirited (which sometimes translates to crabby) older ladies who are not hip and don't speak a word of Spanish yet manage to make every shy child giggle and connect with every Spanish-speaking adult.
Myself and our two Healthy Kids outreach workers, Lourdes and Ruby, split up the time checking people in for the program. Although we do find families who are not signed up for Healthy Kids (making OSB a good outreach opportunity), that is not my main job and I think of it as somewhat of a time drain. Instead of catching up on the other five programs I work on, I sit at the isolated desk and run through my contact list, texting desperately for entertainment.
I realized today, though, that I will miss it in December and January. I love how the kids cluster around their mother when she fills out the new member form, incredibly concerned that she get their age right - and that of all their siblings. Today a young girl made sure to ask me, at the last minute, that they include their two-week old brother Ivan on the list of children. I am amazed by the assertive 9-year-olds who act as translators when my clumsy Spanish simply won't leave my mouth fast enough. Sometimes I look through the window, hearing a tap, to see delighted eyes staring back at me. After having almost no contact with kids for years, exposure to their earnest interest and easy excitement - especially in a context of poverty and struggle - is such a delight.
I had an entirely different, though altogether negative, kid experience on Monday. While a mother had surgery in our emergency dental van, I tethered her screaming five-year-old for 20-30 minutes, making a lasso around his waist while he cried, yelled "Mami!", and doggedly tried to escape my corral. I didn't think he could even open the heavy door until I looked away for a second, glancing back to realize he was out the door and running towards the van. After another crying/screaming session, he finally calmed down enough to draw on our chalkboard (whatever makes him quiet!) and talk to me excitedly about Spiderman. Of course, when his mother arrived he was perfectly calm and cheerfully said goodbye and thank you. Ahh, kids.
I do love the involvement and interest that kids seem to have in their family. I would never glorify living at (or anywhere near) the poverty level, most especially for a family. But kids accompany their parents when they sign up for holiday assistance, when they get an emergency food box or sign up for free insurance. To me, they see the struggles their parents go through to put things together and are willing to be part of a unit rather than always a self-involved single being. Hell, I'll be the first to admit that I don't know the whole story. But there is a stark difference between them and the kids I grew up with.
In the rest of my life: I am moving in to an adorable duplex with Kate again in January. YAY!
This is also good because I am tiring of my current house - wonderful location, but it's hard to relate to the five unemployed/"uniquely" employed roommates when I come home from a 10-hour day. It will be a good day when I don't have to hear endless and bizarre electronica, have more than one shelf to store food, and stop hearing my roommate cooing baby talk to her dog.
It's time for bed again, so I can get back to my weekday home - work.
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