Sometimes, when you can't fix your own messed-up life, it's gratifying to try to fix someone else's. I've adopted a family, a Dominican woman and her two young kids, who are living in a domestic violence shelter, although I'm not sure how much violence they've really experienced. There were other forms of abuse for sure, and I sympathize with her, but I'm starting to think she is overly optimistic about what her life is going to be like now, because all she's seen of the USA is the suburban middle-class lifestyle she's lived since her American husband brought her here. It's hard for an uneducated single mother to make a decent life in this country, maybe not as hard as I think it is, but definitely harder than she thinks it is. She's going to have to adjust her expectations a lot. And if she's going to move in with me - which is my plan, if I can convince my mother to let me have a housemate - she's going to have to get used to conserving energy and water and reducing waste, recycling and composting; and I hope helping with the garden and feeding her kids healthier foods than chocolate milk and potato chips. I've been wanting a roommate anyway, and I want it to be a single mother with kids for my son to play with. I've been anxious about my situation in the near future, being alone in the house most of the time, without a car, and no one really even checks on us on a regular basis. Then there's the fact that my son likes to go play next door because he doesn't have anyone else to play with, and the 11-year-old kid he plays with is strange and sometimes mean, and I'd like to find a way to reduce the temptation for him to go over there. And I hope that having another adult around to keep an eye on my son might allow me to do some work at home, or ride my bike to the store sometimes. And lastly, it just feels wasteful to live alone in so big a house when other people have no place to live.
Speaking of transportation, the countdown to my personal carmaggedon is less than 2 weeks. I found a cheap child-carrier bike trailer at a consignment store, but I've got to get to a bike shop to try to get new tubes for the tires, along with a more comfortable seat and a kickstand for my hand-me-down mountain bike. I also need my brother to give me a roadside bike repair crash course. I've been lamenting that there are no mobile bike mechanics, no AAA for bicycles, something a mechanically clueless rider pulling a small child in a trailer would really appreciate.
Being with my mother is an exercise in patience. It annoys me how she wastes money, even when I'm the beneficiary; how she buys so many toys for my son, and eats out at restaurants constantly. I think she's going to be really obnoxious in a poor country. She is an occupational therapist who works with young kids, and she doesn't seem to be able to shift gears and just enjoy her grandson without trying to fix him. I haven't asked for help with his behavior, potty training, or anything else, but I am trying to tolerate her help, even though our parenting styles and values are different.
As far as our plans, the news is good, but not as good as I'd hoped. We've pretty much agreed to look at 3 possible destinations in Mexico, of my choosing: Morelia, Michoacan; Oaxaca; and Cordoba, Veracruz. Mexico makes sense, it has always made sense, and it is the default after everyplace else has been disqualified. I have a lot of feelings about Mexico: I love it intensely, and it hurts me to think about it. I won't be able to avoid Mexico City, where I have so dramatic a personal history, and I won't be able to avoid looking for my ex in the places he used to perform as a troubador, even though I'm pretty sure he's dead now, and I'll never be able to know for sure. It's been so long since I was there and my life has changed so much, and Mexico has changed too, and it's hard to really know what to expect, other than a lot of emotions. It is the known quality that makes it both attractive and also scary, because when you (think you) know something, you're really in danger of being disappointed. But the worst part is that my mother wants to wait until 6 months after her retirement, in 3-5 years, before committing to where she's going to live and buying property. Which makes sense for her, but I can't live in limbo for 5 years. I want a place to garden. I want a horse to ride. I don't know how I'm going to get those things. I'm feeling like I have simplified the problem, but I haven't found the solution yet.
I've just about given up the idea of going to Honduras in December, now that we've decided on Mexico. Mom wants to wait a little longer to make our exploratory trip, and anyway, Honduras is far enough from Mexico that it is practically a separate trip. She also wants me to stay in the house as long as I can, while she tries to sell it, so that she doesn't have to carry the full mortgage herself. I hate to go back on my promise to my in-laws, but I'm really considering doing so. It's been a while since I've talked to my brother-in-law Roman and I think both of us are getting over the presumably mutual crush and thinking more rationally, realizing we dodged a bullet, and wanting to keep a safe distance in order to avoid another round of that. At least, that's how I'm feeling; I have to guess about him because there's never been much real communication between us, and at this point I'm pretty sure there never will be.
I kind of knew this would happen with me if my mom agreed to Mexico: it opens a door I've kept tightly closed, and changes the way I feel about a lot of things. I'll have to adjust some of my ideas, even the way I speak Spanish; I kind of feel like I need to reformat myself and reboot from an old backup disc.
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