October 4

Today I coughed so much I almost threw up. My back leaning against the tiled bathroom wall, my heart pounding in my head, I wondered if I could make it through the day or if I should just go home, too tired to face pre-teen middle schoolers with no direction or motivation who could care less about learning math, too tired to have little children ripping my arms out of their sockets, who don't understand a word I say. I let the voices in my head argue a bit, until I decided to walk down the stairs again. And inside the classroom, my children were, with their bright faces and good hearts and michevious plans, their reckless energy their colorful imaginations, and their simplicity and steadfastness of heart. I got through the day, with a smile, with a joy, with small (yet profound) moments of confirmation on why I am here.

Today Chamrong grabbed both of my breasts in the front of the classroom and made a "honking" noise while he did it, probably just, "why are these lumps here on this woman?" Ly Heng had learned that this was unacceptable behavior, and as I pulled Chamrong off of me in front of the class, he pointed and said, "Chamrong is bad boy!" (this was not one of those moments of confirmation on why I am here, ha, but still an awkward somewhat amusing story) My girls hug me so hard it's almost violent. Our group hugs make us nearly slip and fall on the wooden bridges between classrooms. They yell, "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" I yell, "Too many babies, we are going to fall!" And with their little legs and girlish giggles, we nearly do.