With one week until departure, I’m beginning to enter that fuzzy space otherwise known as Transition. I feel off-kilter, ditzy, and at odd ends. My mind is cluttered. I pace and make lists and then, when I should be working, I crash on the sofa with Netflix and end up going to bed way too late. There is much to do, and yet, weirdly, I’m bored. I can’t settle into anything. It’s like being revved up on caffeine while in a coma.

I was like this before we went to Guatemala, though that upheaval was much worse than this one. This time around the kids are bigger and we’re only packing for one climate (hot). Also, it simplifies things that Puerto Rico is just another part of the US: we can still get Amazon, there are Costcos(!), and I just learned that we can forward our mail to our new address. Maybe we’ll never come back?

Speaking of that new address: A lovely rental house is awaiting us!

Judging from the video that our supervisor so thoughtfully sent us, it looks like the place — plenty of extra space for hosting guests and holding meetings with the weekly volunteers — will meet our needs perfectly. I am so ready to move in, set up shop, and start living.

One of my goals for when the little cousins came was to eat up all the bits and bobs of food floating around the house. I shopped my shelves and made menus and then conscientiously worked my way through each day.

Some bread crusts and a couple cups of leftover quiche filling?
An egg bake for lunch.

A bag of dry white beans and a quart of frozen, ancient turkey?
White chicken chili.

A frozen container of red beans and overripe corn?
Again, chili.

Chickpea and barley flours?
Buttermilk pancakes.

Two half-boxes of macaroni?
Mac and cheese, duh.

Unfortunately, I neglected to take into account how little small children will actually eat, so I didn’t plow through as much food as I’d hoped. But still, their presence did force me to be intentional, and I hardly spent any money, so there’s that.

We’re gradually farming out the animals.

The goats are gone, on loan to a neighbor. The chickens are being banded and dispersed to different homes (to be collected upon our return). The dogs will go to my parents. Two of the three cats we’re giving away; Obie will continue to haunt the barn — my parents will set out food for him.

My daughter is giving Velvet away to her farrier who has three young, very excited children. It’s a smart move on her part — Velvet is getting old, and my daughter wants to save for a warmblood — but still, it’s a little sad, saying goodbye to her first horse, so the other evening when she asked me to go up to the farm to take some last photos of her and Velvet under the budding fruit trees, of course I said yes.

***

Our work phones and hotspot arrived from MDS headquarters.

The children are green with jealousy.

*** 

What will we read while we’re in Puerto Rico? There are libraries, but best I can tell they’re mostly academic. Probably in Spanish, too. 

When we went to Guatemala, I took a whole stack of pre-screened books for our family read-aloud, but we don’t need read alouds now (that’s more a winter-time thing, plus, our evenings will be considerably busier this time around). Still, I’d love to have several good books on hand for each person to read and then share amongst ourselves.

my collection thus far 

But along with gerneralized fun reading (my aunt has loaned me her copy of Educated which I know it’s going to be fabulous), I’m also looking for a variety of other in the following areas:

*Several, high-quality young adult books that most of the kids would enjoy

*Material about Puerto Rico. I just purchased this book, and we already have the travel guide.

*Books (both fiction and nonfiction) set in Puerto Rico. Blogs, too.

*Books on cross-cultural awareness, disaster management, etc.

So tell me: what should I (we) be reading? If nothing else, just share what books you’re into these days. That’ll be enough to get my wheels turning, I’m sure.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (4.24.17), creamed honey, the newest addition: Jessica, mango banana helados, cauliflower potato soup, the perils of homemade chicken broth. 

This same time, years previous: life can turn on a dime, let’s pretend this isn’t happening, out of character, Sally Fallon’s pancakes, ailments, out and about, the quotidian (4.23.12), rhubarb crunch, me and you, and the radishes.

This week, in a move that has, I’m afraid, made pretty much everyone second-guess our sanity, I invited my cousin’s four little kids, ages three to ten, to come stay with us for a week right before we take off for Puerto Rico.

Actually, the kids were supposed to come last week, but then when MDS asked us to attend the leadership training, we had to push the cousin visit back a week. I knew we’d be fine, though: a week of training, a week of kids, a week of packing, no problem.

Besides, everyone knows that the best fix for feelings of overwhelmed-ness is to just add a whole lot more crazy, right?

Seriously, though. We are having so much fun! The children are absolutely amazing — curious, cheerful, independent. There have been zero discipline issues and no signs of homesickness. It’s been a dream, truly.

From part of an (edited) email I sent their mother this morning, their fourth day here:

There is a Lego station in our room (can’t walk in there), and the kids are on a paper airplane kick. On Wednesday night we took all four of them to the final dress for Jonathan’s play. The night before was Taco Tuesday at church. Also, we went to the library, and yesterday we made a trip to Costco. They spend hours on the trampoline. They are great eaters and they sleep like champs. The little one has cried a handful of times, but it’s always very brief and usually has to do with not finding the right shirt or having someone buckle her in when she wanted to do it herself. She is so cuddly, in and out of my lap all the time.

The number of children in the house hovers right around ten, though it has, on occasion, touched twelve. My brother’s kids have popped over a couple times, plus my son’s friend is in and out. This morning the neighbor kid wandered in and I walked past him without even noticing. When I did see him — “Oh hey, you’re here! — I told him to leave his shoes by the door and then walked off.

The first night the cousins were here, I pointed out to my husband that this would be our family if we’d continued to have a child every two years, can you imagine?? When I told my kids — this could be us — they were all suitably impressed.

My kids have had to up their game. They’ve been washing boatloads of dishes, providing around-the-clock entertainment, doing lots of tidying up, serving snacks (about which my older daughter was gleeful: It’s been years since we’ve had snacks!), and playing games.

My younger daughter has relocated to the guest room to sleep with the girls, and the boys have set up camp on my sons’ bedroom floor (when my younger son’s friend comes to spend the night, there are five boys in there, oof). I thought this week of cousins might cure my younger daughter of her persistant wish for foster siblings, but when I checked in with her this morning, she assured me that she still wants foster kids, “Because we’d get a baby, Mom, not actual children.” And so I give up. Because I am not about to borrow a pack of babies to make a point.

This afternoon, the children are over at my parents’ house. Tonight there will be pizza for supper, and then we’ll have a movie and popcorn, and maybe bedtime stories. And then, once everyone is in bed, my husband and I will cozy up on the couch with Netflix.

If I can keep my eyes open, that is.

This same time, years previous: what it’s like to write full time: an experiment, the quotidian (4.20.15), the quotidian (4.21.14), loose ends, therapy, chocolate ice cream, bacon-wrapped jalapenos.