A nightmare's week

I'm starting school tomorrow, it'll be my first grade, I'm 6 years old and I'm quite excited about knowing new people. I hope my new teacher is as good as my kindergarten teacher. Mm mm, what about my classmates? Are they going to be nice with me?. Anyway, I'm going to sleep now, my mom is telling me off because it's 11.30 p.m. and I'm not sleeping yet.
Good morning Miss Mary!!! Miss Mary told us that we have to greet her everyday in the same way, to show respect, you know?. Oh! I'm the tallest in my class...nice! I look older than the rest! I can reach places which are forbidden for the short ones, but I don't like quite much sitting at the last spot in our class.
What is that? I'm listening to Miss Mary, but I cannot see what is she drawing on the board. Maybe if I close a little bit my eyes I can see better... Yes, I can! But it's tiring to be all the time like this...I'll take Carolina's sit, she is supposed to be sitting two places in front of me, but today she didn't come.
I'm a little better, but my teacher told me to go back to my place...I'm sad, where's my mummy? That woman... Miss Mary, you know? She is mean! She doesn't like me because my mother is not all the time at school as my classmates' mothers...Marcela's mother is here, Laura's mother is also here, where's my mother? I really want to cry...but I won't. I won't cry because I'm not that weak. I'm going home now and I'll be better tomorrow.
Today I got dressed in a hurry and asked my father and brother to hurry too, because I want to arrive at school before the rest of my classmates. I want to sit in a better place. After all, sitting at the back I'm like a shadow, Miss Mary only talks to the girls sitting in the first three rows.
Nice, this is my chance, there's nobody else, I can choose wherever I want to sit!
No, Marcela, I want to have this sit, go to the back and sit in my place! Oops! Marcela is crying... I don't care, I didn't do anything wrong! Marcela's mother is coming! My God, she is a tall woman! I hope she won't dare to hit me, I'm afraid now. I'm trying to explain to this woman that I cannot see quite well from my sit, I understand that I'm as tall as a tree and the little ones sitting behind me only see my back, but I've been suffering from a similar misfortune since the first day. My notebook is almost empty, I'm tired of being told off at home because I never finish copying anything, I really want to learn, I want to learn how to read. I don't like waiting for my parents having time to read me a short story! I'm tired of just imagining a story from pictures! I want to read!!! At the back I'm not learning...where's my mum? My teacher is coming and Marcela's mother is rushing towards her! What is she going to say...I'm in trouble...Oh, my God! I've been naughty, and if my mother finds it out, I'll lose my dolls! I don't want to lose my things, I just want to learn! I'm desperate, I want to cry... I've never cried when my mother abandoned me with Miss Mary, I'm not a crier, but Miss Mary is coming to tell me off...OK, I'm already crying...
No, Miss Mary (sniff)...I just want to sit here (sniff)... because I cannot see the blackboard (sniff)... from the place I'm supposed to be sitting, I'm sorry, I didn't do anything(sniff)...please, don't call my parents, I promise I'll go back to my place (sniff)...PLEASE, don't call my parents, they'll be upset with me!
What is happening? Apparently, she understood everything! Marcela is sitting behind me... but I'm having a note to my parents. What does it say? That's why I want to learn how to read. I don't like not knowing if I've done something wrong. What's the note about?
My parents are coming with me to school. Miss Mary asked us to copy some words from our book, while she speaks with my parents... "Mi mamá me ama, mi mamá me mima, mi mamá amasa la masa"... ready! Now I want to know what are they talking about! Oops, my parents face is not so good. What have I done wrong? If she understood everything yesterday, why is it that my parents are looking at me as if I were about to die?
We are at a doctor's office now. Am I sick? I don't feel anything. In fact I'm feeling quite good. Why am I here? No, doctor, I don't know how to read yet, I cannot learn anything because I'm sitting at the back. Oh, but I know that drawing is an "A", yes, and that other in an "E"...Mom I know how to read! But the tiny ones are blurred. I cannot see them. I'm sorry, I'm a complete ignorant...
Glasses? I don't need glasses... oh! But I can see the tiny ones now. Yes doctor, I can see perfectly well. That's a "P" which is my name's letter, and an "M" like the one I need to write "Mamá". Thank you doctor, your examination didn't hurt.
I'm happy now. I'm the only one in my classroom with glasses. I'm special. I can sit at the back without problems.
Marcela, you've been a mean person. Stay with your ugly place, I don't like it anymore. You are mean and I'm special. I have glasses and you don't. You're mean!...Oops! Marcela is crying again... I don't care, she is a crier, and I'm not...I have glasses and I'm special!



(Based on a previous entry called "My short-sightedness")

Thank you technology!!!

It's unbelievable to watch this video because of its content. Here you have The great music idols Celine Dion and Elvis Presley singing together because of the wonders of technology.

When I watched the video I stayed gladly frozen with my mouth quite opened in amazement. Just to help you get an image of me watching it, I was as a child left in a huge toy store to play with everything. I couldn't believe my eyes! The shocking fact is that it's made in such an extraordinary way that for a moment you might forget that it is something impossible to happen.

If you want to watch the making of this video, you can go to You Tube and search for "Idol gives back - Elvis and Celine" and you will find it.

The song is beautiful, it is called "If I can dream", the singers are extraordinary while singing it...I'm still amazed!

My congratulations to the magicians!

Do we really care?

Sometimes people say that they care about others, but I sometimes wonder at what extent do they really care?

There are many sayings related with charity, for example, my father used to repeat over and over again to my brothers and me "Charity begins at home", especially when we didn't want to share something among ourselves.
Another saying that comes to my mind, I don't remember when was the first time I heard about it, but it's a quite interesting phrase something like: "If you are wealthy, share your riches, if you are poor, share your heart"

I think this quotation summarises the real meaning of charity. We tend to believe that giving away some money to beggars is the only way of being charitable, but what happens when we have no money? We feel that we are helpless and there's nothing further from truth. If we have ourselves and our willingness to help, with these two things we can start changing one minimum part of this upside down world.

On the other hand, we have really wealthy people who don't even reflect upon the idea of sharing richness. It's OK to do the maths by saying "I've worked a lot, I've earned this money with my own effort, then why should I give some to those who rely too much on other's charity?". But we have to take into account those who have tried, but haven't succeed in working to get money.

The main problem nowadays, which in a way could explain this raise in the amount of people who don't work, are all the social plans released by the government which benefit many people and families. Why do I say this is a problem? Because since those plans started to function, it's more difficult to find women to work in housekeeping or moan loaners. They are too comfortable receiving a tiny amount of money without having to work, then why should they work?.

I strongly believe that being charitable is also related with this saying: "If you want to feed a man for a day, give him a fish. If you want to feed him for the rest of his life, teach him how to fish". Government plans in general terms only give the fish, even when there are some aimed at teaching how to develop a certain skill. The issue is that people don't take much advantage of that.

I chose the video which accompanies this entry, because as you may have already inferred, I really like Josh Groban, plus I started thinking in those boys singing with him. How they were chosen to do that? How are their lives like? Do they really live among poor African people? They looked quite healthy, well-dressed, and seemed quite happy.

Here I have to go back to what I've already said, at what extent do this people doing programmes to get money for the poor ones really care? Is it because they have to, or because they WANT to help others?...
In the end, if the goals are achieved that question shouldn't be that important, what wouldn't be quite nice is if either they only do it in order to have free publicity, or if they are just doing it to make a commerce out of charity.

Metamorphosis

I've always been considered a fat person, but the funny thing is that now that I'm really over weighted, I don't care much about it.

As a child, when I was 5 years old, I used to be as thin as an African child, with clearly visible bones and balloon-bellied. But after a year and my mother's insistence giving me vitamins and food, I became a chubby healthy child.

My obsession with weight, started when I was more or less 10 years old. My mother and my older brother, started teasing me because I was fatter than the rest of my friends. Until, one day without noticing, I started feeling inferior because of my size.

The nightmare lasted approximately 11 years, with huge fluctuations in my physical appearance.

By the time I was 15, I was as tall as I am now, but weighting only 58 kg The sad part is that I never gave myself the chance to enjoy my thinness.

I was all the time worried about losing more kilograms, and I could see that I was already thin.

I've never suffered neither from anorexia nor bulimia, but in a way, I've always had eating disorders. I remember going to a nutritionist and coming back home with my diet, just to listen to my mother shouting that she would never cook a different meal for me. I should cook it whenever I came back from school if I wanted to follow an ordered diet.

I've never liked that much my mother's cooking, because she used to put too many spices to any type of food, and her cooking almost 90% of the times included fried things.

When I got pregnant, I relaxed myself and started eating everything I wanted. I felt that it was my chance to enjoy without feeling that my mother would make me feel guilty about my weight.

The funny thing is that by the time I had my baby, my mother had gained exactly the same weight as I had gained and neither of us could never lose them.

Nowadays, because of my rushing times, I cannot follow an ordered diet, and sometimes I have breakfast, then lunch, and nothing else during the day, or sometimes, before I go to sleep at night, I eat something completely unhealthy from my fridge. The fact that I cannot lose weight is also due to my sedentary lifestyle. But, to be honest, the only moments when I get depressed about being the humongous closet I am, is when I have to buy new clothes, and every stupid girl at any shop I go, looks at me from top to bottom with an annoyed face and says: "No, we don't have anything of that size".

School sweethearts

It's funny when you are doing whatever, and you find yourself recalling moments from your childhood or adolescence. That is exactly what happened to me today and I decided to write about it.

The thing which triggered my memories was a Gloria Estefan's CD called "Mi tierra" which I used to listen when I was 15. I was listening to it this morning while correcting tests. When this CD was released, Aerosmith also started selling their "Big ones" album.

That was the disc which was being played the day I met the boy who ended up being my first true love.

Both of us were 15, and I was really shy for my age. I was not thinking about having boyfriends as the rest of teenagers who were around me, I left that itchy thing for them. I already had had a pair of short experiences (the first one lasted one week, and the second two months) and I thought it wasn't my moment to have a boyfriend. I was truly OK having tons of friends and enjoying every moment with them.

One day, my friends and I went to one of my new classmates' house, because he wanted us to meet his former classmates from E.A.S. I arrived there with five girls, and we found a beautiful noisy house, fully covered with six boys' excitement for meeting girls.

I can still remember that day being a really cold one. I was wearing a pair of black tiny gloves, blue jeans that my god-mother gifted me for my 15Th birthday, a colourful scarf, a baggy sweater, and a black woollen hat, which made my face look younger.

After some minutes there, a pair of my friends were "deeply-in-love" with two strangers, and I just only laughed at them. I found such urgency about calling LOVE to any type of attraction, quite childish and silly.

We spent the whole afternoon dancing, everything was nice until one of the boys took the microphone (we were 12 but the boys were singing and playing an electronic guitar) and almost screamed: "Raul likes the one with the hat!"... I stayed in shock for some seconds, then I looked at one of my friends, and started laughing while taking my hat off.

Obviously, everyone laughed at my reaction and Raul was quite red due to the embarrassment caused by his friend's outburst. After some minutes, I said: "Bye everyone, it was a pleasure meeting you", and I heard one of the boys whispering "Go Raul, walk her home, it's just three blocks away"; I started walking, and when he asked me if I wanted him to walk with me, I answered with my eyes looking to the floor: "No, thank you, it's cold outside and my house is not that far...bye!"

Days passed and I didn't see Raul again. But I had my friends teasing me all the time with that episode.

By that time, my mother finally agreed on letting me go to school dances, those organized on Saturday evenings, by teenagers who wanted to earn some money to afford their school trips. It was in one of those that I saw him again. I was dancing with my friends, and he came unnoticeable from the crowd, asking me if I wanted to dance with him. "No, thank you, I'm with my friends, I can't leave them, our policy is either all of us dance with someone, or no one leaves the group" I said with a tone of satisfaction, thinking he would go away. He smiled slightly showing his two upper-middle-separate teeth, and answered: "Don't worry, my friends also want to dance with yours"... I obviously didn't have many options.

That night was beautiful, because without expecting it, I spent the most romantic hours being just a 15 years-old girl, without kisses, because it was not well-seen kissing someone you don't know for a while, at least, with his hands holding mine, looking at each other's eyes and talking endlessly about our interests.

Two months passed, and finally on August 26Th, 1993, this boy became my boyfriend, after being mute for hours and shaking as an autumn leaf. I remember our faces full of happiness, with huge smiles, hugging and kissing for the first time, feeling that our love would last forever...

Sadly, due to his insecurity, and jealousy, our relationship only lasted four months. But even when many years have passed since those four marvellous months, I will always hold in some corner of my heart my love for him, which is not as strong as the one I feel for my husband, but will die with me as what has always been...my first true love.

Teaching children

I still refuse to convince myself that I don't have to say "I will never...".
I used to say "I will never teach children, because I'm afraid of them". What's more, I reinforced that idea after covering a teacher, who couldn't work for two days, in second and third grade. There where just some hours teaching children which made me decide that for the rest of my life, I would NEVER teach children.
That decision lived in my mind for four years up to last March, when I was offered to cover 8 hours at primary school for two months. After thinking a lot, I decided to take the chance, because otherwise I wouldn't work this year, due to the closing of my coaching classes (economical reasons in between) at secondary school last year.
The thing is that I was absolutely frightened about teaching children because I didn't know how to treat them. I was so afraid of not being good enough or making them cry whenever I try to call their attention.
The fear lasted two weeks or so, and before completing my two months, I was offered to have my own hours, not just as a back up, but as the lead teacher.
My instant answer was: "No, thank you". But my husband made me think that it was a great opportunity to have my own groups before having my degree, plus, he saw the chance to stop giving me money.
So, I called the head of the English department and I said that I would accept her offer.
By now, I have to say that the downside of teaching children is that as a person who has spent 16 years studying English, I find the use of vocabulary and grammar quite limited. I have to rough tune everything I say so as to make sure that everyone understands what I'm saying. In contrast, I would have never imagined how gratifying teaching children might be. They are so sweet and loving that whatever happens to me, I know that going to teach them is an extraordinary experience which charges my "batteries" and helps me go on. Whenever I'm sad, they make me laugh, whenever I'm tired they give me energy and strength to continue with my day.
My students are kind and generous, they stop playing in their breaks to come and hug me or give me kiss. "Hello, miss!" they say with a huge smile on their little faces. When I'm with them in the classroom, some of them might complain about having too much work to do, but anyway, they try to do it. I cannot make up my mind yet if they work that much, because they really want to, or if it is because I oblige them to work. Moreover, I don't know if it's due to my age and ideals, but I wouldn't like to become one of those teachers who give their students some work to do, and just sit to wait the results. I'm constantly walking around the classroom, checking whatever they are doing.
To summarize, I have to say that I took this job as part of my experiences in life, but up to the moment, I have no regrets about it. I'm happy to have given myself the chance to try, and find out that working with children is so rewarding.

Different people, different reactions

Today I proved once more that I can act coldly when something bad happens and my help is needed, but the moment I check everything is OK, I tend to relax and feel anguish.
One of my friends fell my school's stairs, and it's not that she just missed one or two steps...she rolled all the way down to the bottom floor. I was at the bathroom at that moment and I was shocked when I listened to a hard sound as if someone had hammered a wall.
I hurried myself to go out and check where this sound came. While I was hurrying, I heard someone saying "someone fell the stairs", and I worried even more. When I managed to go out and see downstairs, there was my friend in shock. I rushed to her side asking if she was OK but I couldn't receive an answer. I asked again and since I couldn't get a word from her, I left her sitting there and run to look for someone to help me.
When we went back, she managed to walk up to the staff room and we waited there for the ambulance to come.
Luckily, nothing happened to her, but we were all worried.
And I began saying "I proved myself once more" because whenever my mother or my younger brother are around me, and someone in the family gets hurt...they block their minds and start coming and going, but actually doing nothing (I call them rubber knives).
I'll give an examples so as to help when drawing a picture of them. When my son was 4, he was playing in my mother's house and running to catch her dog, at some point, he slipped and hit his head with a door's threshold, cutting her head. When we heard him crying, we went to see if he was OK and found out that her head was bleeding a lot. I instantly tried to cover the wound with my hand but my mother started crying. I said "Mum, calm down because you are not helping and call a taxi", she ran to the phone and got angry with the women who got her call, because there where no taxis available. Then I said "Mum, give me the phone so as to call my husband, and calm down". She never waited me to call my husband and went out to ask a neighbour to drive us to a CAPS which is near her house.
When we got there, my mother entered screaming for help, and I was making jokes to my son asking him not to pay attention to my mother. In the end a nurse helped us and made a comment about my son's and my easiness and laughed about my mother's anxiety. Of course, when I went back to my house, and after checking that no one was seeing me, I started crying because my obvious mother's fear wanted to come out.
My brother, on the other hand, was in shock when his best friend broke his arm, and went back home without accompanying him to the hospital. When he got there, I told him, "Let's go and see if he is OK. Maybe he needs something and is alone... Why on earth you're not with him by now?". He couldn't manage to move a muscle to say anything, and with his eyes struggling with guilt, after a while he answered: "OK, are you coming or not?". When we got to the hospital, we looked for my brother's friend and the doctors where trying to line his bones again, so as to put him a huge cast which covered part of his chest and his left arm. My brother was mute. He wouldn't say even a word. I said: "Martin, don't worry, we've already called your father, my brother is here and I'll talk with the receptionist about the papers that you have to fill in. Don't worry". After an hour or so, my brother started talking again.
The thing is, that I don't really know if I'm like that because of my mother's influence (whenever I got hurt she would tell me off), or is it just a difference in some people's character, the thing is that I leave the nervous breakdown for the moment in which I'm certain that everything is OK.

Nice to meet you Dr Jekyll

In my opinion, generally speaking, people don't need to go to the extremes of evil to recognize their Hyde's side. After all, this duality between good and evil lies naturally in everyone of us. What's more, some people seem to have two, or sometimes more, very different ways of behaving according either to the persons they are with, or the degree of confidence they have built with them.
Putting everything into perspective, since last September, I've been 'suffering' in a way someone Hyde's side, which in many occasions I've lived it as a unbearable burden. Furthermore, at one point, I thought that besides the schedule, I've quit university for impersonal and cold teachers like him.
Nevertheless, as I consider myself a lucky person in some aspects, I've had the opportunity to have a glimpse at this person's Jekyll side on an absolutely different 'environment', and that's where I started feeling that the distance between us was not THAT long. I had the comforting sensation of having a slight possibility to relax myself and enjoy my learning with him.
I accept that for a long period, I couldn't make up my mind in relation to this man, but by now, my burden is lighter than ever.
The only thing I have to work out is how I behave towards corrections, because, in many cases, since I've been accustomed to have the best marks in everything, it's extremely difficult for me to give myself the chance to fail. After all I'm desperate to get my degree. I want to achieve the goals I set at the beginning of this year.
In addition, even when it doesn't seem, I haven't lost my initial aim when I started studying in tertiary level, which is to learn as much as I can. Although, for being a natural pusher with myself, and having increased my degree of obsession towards learning, sometimes I lose track and I refuse to take failure as part of both, my learning and my life.
I'm glad that I've found someone who wants to improve the best of me by pushing my mental and physical health to the limits. I've always thought that the more the exigencies, the best the improvement. But this doesn't mean that I'll be able to show a happy face whenever I have a below standard mark in whatever I do.
I'm sorry for showing my own Hyde's side sometimes, I'm still trying to improve that. Moreover, the worst part beneath my attitude towards failing my last assignment, is that I would have felt quite disappointed in some way, if I didn't fail it, after all, I was writing two essays at the same time, while struggling with my son's homework, and trying to complete my lesson plans. I already knew that at least one of them wasn't going on well. And here is where lies my deepest anger, at some extent, I have to agree with myself about my limitations in relation to multitasking.
Anyway, I'm sorry if I happen to cause discomfort or worry someone.
Classmates, PLEASE don't worry so much, it's not always what it seems with me. My mind is a steam machine working at its 110% all the time, and the percentage is increased on Thursdays because I don't have the chance to see my son for more than 20 minutes before he goes to school. While our school is my biggest worry at the moment, it's not the only one in my life.
I love you all, thank you for caring about me. This wouldn't be possible if I wasn't well accompanied and supported by you. You have become the pillars in which I lay my back when I'm falling.

When Hyde took possession

I was talking with Chez last Friday, and I couldn't recall more than two outbursts of my Hyde's side... in my life.
I'm still searching on my mind, trying to find something more, but I cannot say I remember anything else. What surprises me more, is that both of them are within the last six years, and with the same person involved...my husband.
The first one, was on the early stages of my anxiety disorders. I was all the time waiting for something bad to happen, either to me or to any member of my family.
My husband used to go to university after work. I knew he was supposed to come back at 9:00 p.m., and every day I was waiting for him sitting by the door at THAT exact time.
Almost by the end of August, after a long and difficult period, everything changed. It was a cold night, and minutes started running faster than usual.
9:01...He was not at home as I expected... 9:05... I started worrying...9:10...I called him to his cell phone and he didn't answered...9:12...I called one of his classmates, and he told me that my husband went home two hours before...9:14...my mind started thinking that something bad had happened to him...9:16...I started crying...9:17...I changed my clothes, and my son's...9:22...I was standing behind the door, with my baby in my arms and a sweater for each of us by my side...9:24...my mind wouldn't stop, I was constantly thinking... the police is coming to say he is dead...9:26...I would have to deal with everything by myself; What am I going to do with a baby and no job?...9:27...How he dared to die?...9:28...I will never forgive him if he is dead...9:29...He cannot be dead, I would have to recognize his body, he cannot be dead, please God don't make me suffer anymore...
9:30...He finally arrived...Hi honey! I'm home! What are you doing here, where are we going? Why are you with that face?.
"What has happened to you", I said.
"I went to have some drinks with my classmates", he answered.
I put my son on his crib, started crying hysterically, I could only say "you don't love me even a little", "Why didn't you call?; Why didn't you tell me you where arriving late?"...after that, I opened the front door, and started running as a mad person.
I just wanted to run, I didn't care where. I just wanted to run to free myself from this eagerness to kill him, for not having any type of consideration.
After a few blocks, he arrived and I felt that by killing him I would lose my son also, and my legs stopped responding. I fell to the ground, heart broken, crying as if he was actually dead. I couldn't walk and I cannot remember the way back home. The next thing I remember is that I entered my house, I looked at my son on his crib, and everything went black while I was going to my bed.
None of us talked about it until the next day.
The other time in which my Hyde appeared, is not worth mention the whole episode, because one out of two people involved, could have spent at least one night in jail. I will only say that showing my Hyde was the best thing I could have done to defend myself.
It's not easy to accept when your dark side is stronger than the good one, but I cannot decide yet if it is that bad to react, from time to time. After all, whatever we do not express, makes our imaginary bags heavier, and more difficult to carry.

Don Sebastian

Yesterday I decided that I wouldn't care so much if I'm overloaded with things to do. That's why I accepted one of my friend's invitations to go to the theatre. Thank God I did it!
One of my ex classmates from secondary school was playing a part in the play, and the truth is, that I was really pleased when I saw him, plus...I laughed a lot!
The play was "La Verbena De la Paloma", and it was funny because neither Gaby (the girl with whom I went) nor me, knew what to expect and what's the meaning of "Verbena".
I was surprised and glad when I realized that the sweet and tender old man called "Don Sebastian" was in fact, my hilarious and extraordinary friend Gonzalo.
Gonzalo, has been gifted with an extraordinary tenor's voice, and every time I had the opportunity to listen to his singing, I feel that I'm driven to another place.
I remember when we where on our last year at secondary school, he used to sing at every event we organized to raise funds for our trip to Bariloche. His Ave Maria was unbeleivable (even when he couln't remember quite well the lyrics). That's why I called him four years later when I was about to get married. I wanted him to be with me, singing in my wedding. Unfortunately, my husband's mother pushed her son with her influence, and in the end she was the one who decided on the subject. The worst part is that I had blocked that event in my mind until Gonzalo made me see that I was not the only one who got hurt and disappointed by that woman's actions.
Anyway, coming back to my visit to the theatre last night. Gonzalo surprised me once again. He played his part as a real old man, in an absolutedly funny way. Every time he appeared on stage, I couldn't help myself and I started laughing. If anyone could have taken a look at me, I felt that I couldn't be happier at that moment, it was as if I were a child and I was left on a huge toy store to choose everything I wanted. I couldn't close my mouth and stop smiling. I was happy, I was glad, I was proud to say that Don Sebastian is MY FRIEND. I wanted to hug him and congratulate him, and I did it. I didn't care when he told me not to hug him because I would be stained with his make up.
I don't know if he noticed my emotions, but I can definitely say that for an hour and a half I felt only positive things, and he helped me forget for a while this grey cloud I carry with me wherever I go. Seeing Gonzalo on stage made me feel better than any session with a therapist.
At this point, I can only say God, THANK YOU for putting my ex classmates on my way again! Every time I meet them is a refreshment and recharging of batteries, that no one could imagine. This is great, I've lost them for ten years, but when I found them again (last year) everything was as if we have never been appart.

At a blacksmith's....wooden knives (Cont)

In order to avoid feeling extremely frustrated for being an almost graduated English teacher without power to teach family, I tend to think that every time my father and husband ask me "what's the meaning of..." I'm a helpful pocket dictionary for them, training my teacher's patience all the time.
When my father called, I tested my patience a lot, but the following day...was my opportunity to do the same with my husband.
He called me at 10.15 a.m. raging desperation. And our dialogue was the following:
Husband: "Gorda, I've been ordered to bring some members of the company to the airport. The are from Ireland and they do not speak Spanish at all. How can I say 'hola'?".
Me: "Hello" I answered.
Husband:"WHAT?" he cried.
Me: "Suppose that you have a J, an E, an L, an O, and a U".
Husband: "OK, I will have to take notes but, I'm driving now. May I call you in a minute?"
Me: "Yes, but you could have called before and I would have been pleased to go with you. I have to go to work in 15 minutes, so try to call before that"
Husband: "MMMM, OK. Don't worry. How do you say 'que tengan un buen viaje'?"
Me: "Have a nice flight!"
Husband: "Ah? That's difficult, you don't have something easier?"
Me: "At this moment...no"
For a micro second I thought about his complete ignorance towards English and the dialogue continued.
Me: "Take into account that you cannot say 'hello' when they are leaving"
Husband: "Ah... I cannot?"; "What do I have to say?"
Me: "Good Bye, or just BYE"; "Imagine a B, an A, and an I"
Husband: "MMM, then I will have a communication problem"
Me: "I'm sorry but I told you many times to learn at least 'survival' English"; "Because of opportunities like this one"
Husband: "OK, OK...I don't want to, and I won't want in the future either"
Me: "OK, good luck, then. Bye"
Husband: "Thanks, bye"
In the end, he didn't managed to say even 'hello' or 'bye' to these people. In fact, since the route was cut, and he didn't know at what time the plane was due to leave, he had to call to one of the company's secretary and ask her, because he couldn't ask them that simple question.
As I said on my previous entry, I don't want to be surrounded by an English speaking family, but I cannot understand why is it that some people refuse to "grow" and learn something that might be extremely useful for them. I cannot bear feeling useless with my family's needs, just because they don't allow me to help them with my 'knowledge'.

At a blacksmith’s…wooden knives

I’m not one of those English students who want everyone in her family proficient English speaking persons, nonetheless, I really enjoy with a “Hydish” malignity, whenever I have the chance to say: “I told you to learn something, at least!”
Although it’s not the same with everyone around me, this feeling only emerges with my father and my husband. The former, because he is a professional and he has to read, sometimes, papers or internet articles in English, and what does he (at all times) do??? Calls me! And the latter, because he works in a multinational company, and sometimes he has to receive foreigners who don’t speak Spanish… AT ALL!
On every occasion my father is identified by my phone and with the most childish, sweet, kind and humble voice says: “Neeenaaa, I need your help” (the first word is not translated for the sake of reality)…I just cannot decide if I want to kill him or commit suicide!!
My brothers bought him a Dell pocket pc, which has become my nightmare, because all its software is in English and it doesn't have options to change the language of any type of commands. So, whenever his "acid" hands do something he was not suppossed to do, and the little computer refuses categorically to start, I receive a call. The good part is that maybe, in the long run, I end up being a proficient pocket pc operator!
Last week he called me at an indescriptible hour at night (it was my lucky day, I've come back early from school), and I cannot say exactly the hour, because I was already sleeping. In fact, my mother called me ( as his secretary, voice or who knows). I answered the phone with the chilling sensation of being about to receive bad news. I only said: "What has happened?" (I have caller ID at home also). My mother answered: "Heeeyyy, nooothinggg, it's just your father that needs your help and didn't want to call you, in case you were sleeping...but you were not sleeping right? Because you always come back from school at this hour, right?. The problem is that he is really worried because some signs appear on his pocket's screen, and he doesn't understand even a word! I'm afraid he will have a stroke, or something like that, and...". "Ok, mum, give him the telephone so he can read me what does it say", I replied (imagine my face...and will)
When my father got the phone he said: "Hi nena... jijiji! You were not sleeping right?jijiji. I don't know what has happened with this thing, I just tried to restart it, but now is useless, jijiji!". At this point...I defined myself, and I truly wanted to kill him >:\
My patience was tested once more, when he started reading. Even when I asked him to read everything as it is (not trying to pronounce in English), he said: "Teip iour scrin on te sides to estart iour neu configurashón" And the next thing I said was: WHAT????? Please read it again, slowly and do not try to pronounce anything in English, because I will get confused!!! Honestly, I understood everything but the first word "TEIP", because for me he was reading the word "tape", which had nothing to do with the rest of the instructions.
After some time, my desperation to go to sleep spoke when I asked him to spell word by word...HOLY SOLUTION! I found out that the word I couldn't get was "tap" and the complete sentence was "Tap your screen on the sides to start your new configuration". Then I said: "Dad, what have you done??? You have to set everything again as the first time!!! His guilty inner child uttered a simply: "I don't know", and he started laughing again. And here was when I changed my mind, and I definitely wanted to commit suicide.

Behind Schedule

Every day I wake up thinking that I cannot be on time with everything. Whenever I start working on something, instead of feeling that I’m getting closer to achieve my goals, I have the sinking sensation of being further away from them.
There’s nothing new in my situation, I have been feeling the same for the last month and I have already stated it, but it’s incredible when you find out that even when your daily dose of Actimel is not functioning properly, due to stress or whatever, you can still go on fighting and refusing to surrender to the fact that none of us is an octopus.
Recognizing our own limitations is a good start when you want to stop feeling useless. You think that I’m talking nonsense, but, no. The explanation for this unclear paradox is the following: When you feel that you can do everything no matter what, and you suppose you have power over time, you will end up thinking that you are useless whenever you realize that time has gone by, and you couldn’t do what you had planned to do.
I have to take care of my family, work every day, and be on time with every assignment I have at school. It seems easy when you write it down in only one or two lines, but actually doing everything it’s really exhausting.
To be honest, the worst part in my case is that I’m so worried about fulfilling everyone’s (and my own) expectations in what’s related to my job and studies, that I haven’t realized until this morning that my son started pushing me away.
I don’t know if this is his way of punishing me for not being at home, and when I'm at home, I'm constantly thinking about something else I have to do, or if it is just because he is spending much time with his father. The thing is that it hurts anyway.
This morning, when I went to his room and said “Sweetyyy, it’s time… you have to wake up” and he answered “I wanted dad to come and wake me up”, I felt his words as a rusty knife cutting my heart into small pieces without any type of anaesthetic! And even when I truly wanted to cry as a baby, my instant answer was: “Ok, love…sleep again and I’ll tell your father to come”.
I’m still working on that, because since the day I was on surgery and the doctor said :”It’s a boy”, I have always been “first” in everything related to my son, and he came to me whatever happened to him at all times. My husband was just “painted”.
I think it’s going to take some time, until I accept (or not) that every moment I’m not at home, I’m turning into a cartoon, which is nice to be seen, but not as important as to spent much time with.