While we were at brunch last week, we bumped into one of Goose’s former teachers. My lil girl was overjoyed, as Miss Ana had been so kind and loving to her last year, making her transition to school a relatively painless one. We were all sad to hear that she was moving to the big campus of the school, and would not be around to teach both children Spanish. We knew that Goose would miss her the most.

Goose at school, thrilled to bits that Miss Ana sat beside her

When we said goodbye at the end of the school year, we told Miss Ana that we hoped we would see her before we left, and both of us thought it was likely that she would return to visit her former pupils. We never made concrete plans, as summer was before us. School started three weeks ago, and we quickly realized that our time was getting short. I remember thinking that a visit might not happen, so bumping into her was extra special.

Goose, Woo, and their friends had to be held back from spending the entire meal at Miss Ana’s table during this chance meeting. She was gracious and indulged them each time anyone snuck away from our group. Goose especially lapped it up. When the time came for us to walk home, we knew we had to all say goodbye. Goose held back at first, but eventually gave big hugs and many kisses. I think she knew; this was a forever goodbye.

We’ve all been a part of goodbyes before, but this is the first time that the lils and I have been the ones to permanently leave. While we have lived here, we have made some fabulous friends that we will see again, will stay in touch with, but there are others who we will simply leave behind. It’s not a conscious choice; it’s just the reality of the situation.

I was not prepared for the emotions that I felt at this simple and fluke meeting.  There will be more forever goodbyes in the coming weeks, and that makes me sad.  I knew this was part of ex-pat living when I signed up for this trip, but now we are saying goodbyes, and it’s much harder than I thought it would be.

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The lils have been big into telling secrets of late. Most of the time they whisper the secret, then gleefully tell it to whoever else is present. The whispers are punctuated with laughter, and I can’t hear half of the secrets that they share with me because they either talk too close to my ear, or speak so incredibly softly. Sometimes the secret is told in an attempt to get out of trouble, but often it is out of the blue.

The secret that they tell most often is “I love you so much.”

We have been half-heartedly discouraging this because, while cute, it can become problematic. I know what it is like to be the person who is left out of the secret, and don’t want the smalls to inflict that on their friends. We tell them that secrets are OK, but public whispering is not. As a result, I am privy to a number of secrets, overheard while the lils are playing. They think that I can’t hear them, but I will never tell their secrets.

This week has been a good but tiring week for them. They went back to school and are loving it. They are very tired as a result, and somewhat whiny. We did have a lovely time together today, when we were in an administrative black hole waiting for our visa’s to be extended. They were silly and carefree, and I loved every second of it. I indulged them with some secret telling.

“I love you so much”, I whispered to them at the same time, as I held them in a bear hug.

“I love YOU so much”, Goose whispered back to me, sneaking in a kiss.

“A B D J F C Z”, whispered Woo. Guess I know where I stand!!

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The neighbourhood that we live in is spacious by Bangalore standards, but the houses are much closer than I am used to, and really, what I comfortable with.  We know a lot about the neighbours whose house backs on to ours, as there are lots of windows on these walls.  Our houses are about eight feet apart and both of us keep the windows open all the time. I know when they are eating, what they are watching on TV, when their lils are in trouble and that at least one member of their family has a weak stomach.  They know the same about us, except the weak stomach part (we are pretty cast iron here).

For the most part, this hasn’t bothered us in the least.  It’s just life, and they are living theirs.  They are actually pretty friendly people, and we have shared a few chats over the fence as I chase the lils.  I do admit that I have been tempted to ask them to shut the window on a few occasions, though.  There are two things that have bothered me pretty much since we moved in, and I blame them both on this family, our closest neighbours.

They have a cook, who arrives between 5:50 and 6:00 AM every day.  I know this, because I hear her arrive.  It seems that they have not given her a key or made other arrangements to let her in, so she needs to ring the bell.  They must be sound sleepers, because most days she rings it enough times that I could make it over to let her in.  It’s frustrating, as I am sleep challenged, and this is an interruption that I could do without.

The second annoyance that I attributed to them was whatever squeaky appliance that the cook used for about an hour each day after she got there.  It was loud, annoying, and persistent.  It was actually the more irksome disturbance, and the noise was particularly loud in our bedroom, given that the open window in our bathroom was right over the open door to their kitchen.  I stewed on this for weeks, until I realized that it wasn’t coming from their house at all.

It’s a damn bird, and it nests on the wall just outside our bathroom.  I feel bad for blaming the cook, but the sound fit so well with her arrival time.  I was sure it was her, and I feel guilty for making that assumption.  Now I am stuck, as I clearly can’t ask them to stop making a noise that they are not making and I can’t have the bird evicted, what if it has babies?! Eep! WHAT IF IT HAS BABIES??

Here is a video that Woo shot one morning as he waited for us to get up.  You can clearly hear the bird in the clip. You tell me, does that sound like a bird? Or a squeaky wheel?

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/lilbunnyrabbitz/7733815920/)

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The Olympics are one of our exceptions to the no television plan for the lils. We love that they get to experience new sports, see world class athletes do their best, and are inspired to try new things in their play and real life.  I must also admit that I am an Olympic junkie, and letting them watch lets me watch way more, as I don’t need to wait until they are in bed to indulge.  One of the sports that has captured Goose’s interest this time around is gymnastics.

Two days ago she noticed that the footboard of my bed was like a balance beam.

She has been doing her routine on it since then, and getting more daring, and more creative.  Unfortunately, she failed to stick her landing this afternoon. While her feet did hit the bed first, they skidded out from under her and she fell backwards, hitting her head on the wood.  I knew by the scream that she had really hurt herself, so I scooped her up and cuddled with her.  After a minute or two we both noticed that our shirts were wet.  She saw that it was blood and freaked out.

I ran downstairs with her to triage.  Our poor cook, who is now traumatized, helped me to slow the bleeding, contact Willy, and keep her calm.  Once I had a good look at the cut, I knew it meant stitches.  As luck would have it, our driver had arranged to take our car in for service today, so we needed to make arrangements with our neighbours to use their car and driver. Luckily they were home and willing.  We were off within minutes of the mishap.

When we arrived at the hospital, which does not have an emergency department, they took one look at me carrying poor Goose and rushed us to the examining rooms.  They were very efficient, agreeing that she needed stitches, cleaning her up, and prepping her (cutting her hair!!!!!).  The doctor wanted to start stitching her right away, until I pointed out that she was three, freaking out a little, and might need at least a local.  They agreed, gave her a sedative and tested the local on her arm to ensure that she didn’t react.  We were then asked to wait and see if she got dopey and fell to sleep.

After about forty-five minutes, it was clear that she was as relaxed as she was going to get, so they prepped her for stitching.   She was cleaned, wrapped in a blanket and given the local.  For anyone who has ever had stitches, that local REALLY hurts.  They had to give her the needle in two spots to ensure that she was well covered, and she protested loudly.  A few minutes later the stitching began, and it became very clear that the local did not take affect at all.  It took ten minutes to get those three stitches in, ten minutes that poor Goose screamed and cried and had to be held down by three nurses.  I hated it, and the fact that there was little I could do to help my baby.  I held her, whispered to her, let her squeeze the pain through my hands, but it was nowhere near enough.  When it was finally over and she clung to me, I held her as tightly as I could, wondering why she didn’t reject me for putting her there.

In the end, she is OK.  The sedative that they gave her kicked in shortly before bedtime, so she is sleeping peacefully.  We have to take her to get the dressing changed a couple of times, and then the stitches come out in a week.  She was very brave, and I am proud of how well she did.  I don’t know that I would not have freaked out if I had to have a wound stitched with no local while three strange men held me down.

Just before the lils headed off to bed tonight, Goose fell up the stairs and landed hard on her chin.  After she was soothed and tucked in, Woo was jumping on his bed, fell and landed on his head.  They are both fine, but this just confirms that head injuries are our specialty.  I am drinking wine now.

…no more monkeys jumping on the bed!

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