So, basically I needed something to do with myself while I'm taking a year off from college. Thus, how I end up in Hawaii working as the au pair (nice way of saying nanny) for a three year old Satan child. I've been here since Feb. 22, roughly about five months (hey, I'm trying to speed this year along now), and now I want to go home. I miss the mainland; I miss where states are connected, and people don't think that this little group of islands is fundamentally a microcosm of the greater U.S., much less any part of the world.
That being said, I have a million stories to tell, but I figure that I cannot go back and tell each one at this point, but rather start from events today. A little bit more background first. I live with the a caucasian family (I won't use their last name on here; just in case...I"m learning it's a small world): Mother, Father, Boys: Austin (9), Vincent (3), and Girl: Alicia (11).
Today, was pretty much a regular day, I worked my 8 1/2 hours a day (from 7:00-3:30...yeah, almost slavery again...).
From the start of my time in this house, I knew there would be days that I broke down and cried; so far, it hasn't happened, but it is coming soon, I know it. Let's begin with today, though; Vincent had the audacity to walk out of his room wearing multi-shaded green camouflage shorts and an orange and blue shirt. Now, I don't reside in Fashion conscious Italy or France, but COME ON PEOPLE!!! When I see a little baby or child not matching, I think it's more reflective of the parents and/or people watching over him/her. And I was not about to have that kind of outfit walking out of the house on my watch. So, once his mother left the house, I purposely spilt strawberry smoothie on him, and made him change to blue jeans shorts (he wouldn't have changed for any other reason than he got dirty somehow...hence, I sped the process up a bit). Anyway, he was now matching, and I felt better about myself. But for all you people out there, don't let babies walk out in public not matching...it speaks volumes about the person who is with them. Yes, it's just a baby, and yes, he may not care, but I do. Consider a baby an extension of your outfit or person. Thus, if he's not matching, then you're not.
Then, Austin had a play tonight. It was about Daniel in the Lion's Den. Now Austin goes to school with only three other children; so, you can imagine that the audience, which consisted of parents and siblings, was quite small. But the play was actually quite well done, that is, until Austin, in the living room of his classmate's house (where the play was being put on), decides that he needs to fart. I'm actually quite sick of farting. It's not only disturbing to hear someone else's but disgusting. He has a habit of saying that he can't control it...which makes it all the more worse. Now, you may be wondering, why I'm sitting here discussing someone's flatulence, well, that seems to tell you how far I've sunk. But anyway, clearly, the fact that I'm writing about it, means that it wasn't one of those silent (but really stinky) farts, it was the loud and obnoxious ones that sound like a bass drum or something. Everyone but me laughed...I wanted to leave the room, and would have had I not been sitting in the middle of the room.
After the play was a pot luck. Now, I 'm from Arkansas, i.e., the South. And we COOK...we don't do the whole pour a bottle of spaghetti sauce oversome noodles...we do the whole let's whip out the spices and sit in the kitchen and mix and match all day until the dish comes out perfect. Now, I don't know what I was thinking when I sat down and spent four hours making homemade peach cobbler with real peaches and homemade dough...but to have arrived and found, what was, burnt ground turkey (was supposed to be tacos...but because someone burnt it...yeah...no comment)., seven bean soup ( let's just say Austin's performance turned me off of that immediately), sushi (we Black people tend to like our fish cooked...not all of us, but a lot of us...and I'm one of them), and some salad (which was nothing more than lettuce and guacamole...really, guacamole, really?). So, yes, you see my dilemma, I sat in a corner and ate my peach cobbler like it was my last meal. It might as well have been. And I've learned, potluck doesn't mean the same thing everywhere. Everyone isn't a vegetarian,...where's the beef? Give me a little pork or something...!!!!
Finally, this is where I'm going to stop...this is the last piece of information I can tell without breaking down and hopping on a plane as I type. I drove the family van to the play, and the family squeezed into their little blue hybrid. So, naturally, they wanted me to drive the car home...which was fine. I head out to the car to get my stuff out and prepare to leave. I fumble in the dark with the keys (it's about 9 pm at the time). I finally get the door unlocked and as I open the door, the light comes on, which is natural for any car...but this is where the fun begins. The light sheds itself on about 30 cockroaches that start running for dear life. No, not outside, but in the car. All this time, I'd been driving a car with cockroaches. COCKROACHES....who do I look like? I almost threw up. I really should have. I grabbed my bag, and thank God that I didn't leave more stuff in there. I empty it and wash it in the bathroom to make sure no little critter finds itself in my bag. Then I head out of the house telling everyone goodbye and carrying what remained of my peach cobbler, which literally everyone consumed and enjoyed. And head to the car, preparing myself for what could be in there. I fumble again with the key and open the door, as the light comes on, I search every inch of the car, and see nothing running around. But my mind can't get the sight of big and little cockroaches running for dear life in a vehicle. It's just too much. Who and what kind of family has a cockroach infested car? Why? Are you really that disgusting? Why would you be? This means that I could be depositing cockroach eggs in my room by virtue of simply sitting in the car and picking up some eggs on my clothes. I told the family, and they said, "Oh, wow"...really, that's all you got to say is "wow?".....I wanted to smack some people. To think that as I sleep, cockroaches are breeding and having babies in the chair that I sit in...OMG...wow, that just hit home....
Okay, so, you see my life so far. I know I'm blessed. It's just that in between all that has happened so far, I kind of forget it...please remind me if you see me in the street. So, yeah, God...I love your sense of humor...just love it. Trust me, I have about 7 months left here...so, prepare yourselves...
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