My mind. What a work of art. One huge canvas of chicken scratch.
The first year we spent in Mexico we had some hardships. To keep it basic, we were living in poverty, pregnant, did not know any Spanish, and I had two kids to keep afloat.
Ricardo had the hardship of the acceptance of his family. He goes to America and brings back an instant family foreign people who call him their own. Who was this woman with so much experience at life that would dare to take advantage of such a young guapo with endless opportunity for what the culture and family would expect of him. He was not following the rules. There are rules about who makes the rules and who breaks them. Obviously we broke a big one. Our first year was nothing more than getting kicked around and waiting it out to receive the verdict.
Our poverty. Let's see... how do I show you. I now was the proud owner of a brick condo with nothing in it except for a sink in the corner of the kitchen that was attached to the wall with it's own plumbing of visible pipes running out into the outdoor wash room through a hole drilled in the brick. My clothes washing fixture was nothing more than a washboard built into one side of the sink, about a foot wide, 4 inches deep and on the other side, more of a tub that was roughly 8 inches deep, 8 inches across and over a foot in length. This is where I spent my pregnancy, with a bleached out, stretched out tank top, soaking wet from pregnant belly down to my knees, in bare feet, scrubbing my family's clothes with a floor scrubber for hours a day in cold water. This consumed my time in my first year. Only to ring them and carry them to the roof to hang. My timing had to be right. If they did not dry, I had to start over or they would smell like mildew.
After the birth of Eliott, I could not sit properly for a year because damage to my lower back. It felt like my tail bone was broken. I do not know why because I did not have the opportunity to find out.
My 7 year old son had his own room in Florida with a whole library of books, his own playstation with games, a bike, and all of those normal American boy things; even though we were not wealthy for I was just a single mom. The first year in Mexico, he had to use his imagination for entertainment. The woman who lived in the condo before us left a bunch of empty shoeboxes. My son made one of these shoe boxes his personal space. In it there was a piece of colored paper, a marble, a couple pretty rocks, a key that went to nothing, a feather, and some other little pieces of little boy treasures... all of them he found on the ground outside over time. That was all that he had for toys. He gave up everything to be here as did I.
My daughter learned how to copy her friends' papers in class. She did not pick up on the entire language of Spanish as quickly as her brother as he was a year older. Her social skills took the lead in her attempt to find her place in society. She never did find it in her to give up her American side, for her wish has always been to return. She is fond of her friends, but she likes things and things are not available to her in a place where things are only for the wealthy and the citizen. The truth of being a foreigner is that when you do bring the things with you, there is someone without the things that will take them as soon as you are not there to guard them. Sleeping at her cousins upon return of a trip to the US, she found her stuffed animals on the girls' beds. We have found that the English books are the only things that are safe. English is sought after by most, but in our family it is related to me-the rule breaker- so it does not bring such an attraction to them.
My nephew recently stated that he will choose his aunt and uncle that are Jehovas Witness to stand for him in his holy confirmation. For one, I doubt that is possible. My husband has always been his padrino. But what he said to him was you were not married in a church so I am asking them instead. What he is really saying is that you are married to that foreign rule breaker. I hope that he does not need anything when he is older from his American citizen uncle and his rule breaking wife in the future. Especially since it has been my van that has driven him to church every Sunday and many soccer practices and games. Yea, appreciation, labelling, and following the chismas of parents all seem to carry into that conversation.
I am not here for proof of how I can do it. I am over that and have been a long time now. Since then I have not only mastered my little world of tortillas and bean meals, but have found my own place in my world here. I am not so needy and matter of fact I could make it here on my own at this point. Who was once the rule breaker is fighting to be the rule maker. Who needs who here. If it is true that I am out of my place, then prove it by walking away, OR shut up and get over it.
My husband has developed a self concept that he can see how I see him now, instead of the position of slave through their eyes. The only thing that needs to happen now is the cut. The healthy stand of claiming his own place in the world away from the rules. He has started within himself, but it is time to let them feel the rip.
Respect works both ways.
We were making some headway until we left for the past 8 months. In that amount of time, he is back to making decisions only, I repeat only with their rules as to what they need before his own family's needs. He is brainwashed one more time into a self-concept of slavery to their needs.
One more family that cannot lead a normal life. I am at the end of my patience for it all. I am thinking of moving our living location and just let life carry us to the next stage and see if he will join us or stay with his keepers. I cannot breathe in this current set up.
Maybe TJ is the answer for the kids and I. At least there is a beach. Sell the condo, and go. If he wants to live with his sister than so be it.
