The somber mood soon dissipated, however, over a big team lunch of baleatas, watermelon, and salty-sweet fried plantains. After naptime at home, the entire fam returned to the Pettengill's for gringo church and team dinner. Meals with the McCann girls are always an adventure. Lucy will ask for "lots o' drinks," which means 3 sippy cups: 1 with apple juice, 1 with milk, and 1 with lemonade zucco. Ellie needs at least 3 edible options placed in front of her, sippy cup, and sometimes even a toy, to ensure eating success. Half of her food typically ends up on the floor or on your own clothing, while the other half may make it in her mouth or smothered over her face and collar. Juggling the feeding of these 2 active eaters, while trying to eat your own meal isn't a task for the faint-hearted. You've got to plan ahead, move quickly and decisively, and position yourself near plenty of napkins. Many times, it's almost as if Lindsey and I experience shell shock syndrome post group dinners at the Pettengills. Did we even eat? I can't remember what anything tasted like.
The chaotic dinner was followed by an equally chaotic bedtime for the girls. Both exhausted and fussy, Lucy and Ellie spent much of the bedtime ritual crying. As Lindsey started the water for baths, nothing more than a few drops came out of the shower head. Lindsey rushed to heat up two big pots of water on the stove and I worked on entertaining the very upset babes. As I held naked Ellie, waiting to plop her in the tub, I was suddenly overcome with a warm, wet sensation trickling down my torso. If the baby food mush, smeared bananas, chocolate cake crumbs, dog hair, and sweat hadn't already destroyed the day's outfit, Ellie peeing on me certainly was the icing on the cake. After cleaning up her thoughtful mess, Ellie uncharacteristically screamed throughout the entire bath because the water temperature wasn't right and Lucy refused to get in altogether. Midway through Ellie's washing, Lindsey discovered that Lucy had blessed us with an accident of her own...in her bed. Stripping the sheets, reprimanding Lucy, transferring boiling water from the stove to the bathroom (and dumping sink water in to cool it down), getting Ellie out of the tub and into pajamas, nursing Ellie, and changing out of my urine-infested clothing created what may have been one of the more hectic 20-minute periods of my life. With one kid finally down to bed, I raced out the door to be picked up for church in Armenia. All Lindsey and I could do was laugh as I wished her the best of luck with cranky child number 2.
Last night, Sean and I joined the team for a church service in Armenia Bonito, different than the one we had visited with the previous group. I saw several familiar faces there, including Walter, Yami and her adorable 3-year-old Carlos. A few other children I'd never met before felt bold enough to run up to me and poke me in the sides, saying the one English word they knew, "Hi!" After the first song, I felt like my hands were on fire, having just completed clapping along to the longest song known to man. Everyone in the congregation was extremely animated as they clapped, belted out praise songs in harmonized voices, danced in the aisles, and pounded on tambourines. I now felt much more comfortable in my environment than I had last time. I only wished I knew the words so I could sing along. Pastor Andrews (from the Pettengill's church in Sacramento) gave the sermon and Ivan (a Honduran University student studying English and good friend of the Pettengills, translated). Walking outside after the service was like a punch in the face. Who knew that the Honduran outdoors could ever feel less suffocatingly stuffy than sitting under fans indoors?
This morning post ends as I'm summoned to sit outside with Queen Lucy and her "honey bunches o' boats" in the mango graveyard.
And just for fun, a picture of some sweet sisters in high spirits:
No comments:
Post a Comment