I am supposed to be updating my resume, because I MUST get on with figuring out where we go from here. But you know what? It's boring and I don't feel like it. I simply don't want to obsess on how to present what I've been doing in the best light to get the next job that I want. I don't want to obsess over how far back my resume should go, and whether it looks weird that I've left out decades of stuff. I just. . .don't.
And as for what I'm looking for, well, um. . .I'm interested in a lot of things, and highly skilled at a few, and there are a few more that I'm PRETTY sure I'd be good at. . .so we're looking at a bit of this in Latin America and a bit of that in Europe, with a smattering of Southeast Asia thrown in. (And if any of you Laos folks are out there, please comment on the current state of healthcare there. . .as in the, my kid fell and needs stitches, broke an arm, hit their head, etc. emergency kind.)
Honestly, it's all a bit overwhelming. I try to do a bit each day, but there are never enough hours in the day.
And oof, are we dealing with the throes of TWOness with SB. She is incredibly charming, with her sparkly eyes and chubby cheeks and curly hair and dimpled grin. When she knows she's done something naughty (which is basically about every three minutes, because she is an inquisitive, strong willed child who takes "don't do that" as a personal challenge to achieve), she immediately owns up to it, with an impish grin, hands behind her back, "I'm sorrrry, Mommy!" And when I try to punish her, "But I want to apologize!" And then she pours on the charm. When I try to put her to bed, it's all "mommy, will you snuggle with me," and then, if I manage to get out of the room, "mommy, I have to tell you something important." It is equal parts hilarious and maddening. Oh, but the temper tantrums if she doesn't get her way. These are the classic throw-yourself-on-the-ground and curse the earth tantrums, which we never had with our oldest. I get so embarrassed when we are in public and it happens. I look like such a jerk trying to put a flailing child back into the stroller.
The super hard part is that we have not found one.single.punishment that works. She is not quite two years and five months at this point, so I'm quite at a loss for how to handle it. She simply doesn't care, ignores us, and/or is a smiling little imp whenever we try to discipline. It is SUPER frustrating. And unfortunately, completely adorable much of the time. I have to hold very strong to keep from laughing. Which I swear isn't the problem, because I do manage to discipline her with a straight face. But oh my, are we at a loss. What do you do when nothing you're doing works?
But that wasn't the story I was going to tell you today. I was going to tell you about how I found myself outside a Latin American women's prison today, and how it was every bit as depressing as you might imagine it to be. Dingy, dusty prison walls. Sad, frayed people waiting their turn to enter, each with a spartan handful goods to deliver to their loved ones. The worn face of the woman selling coffee for 75 cents a cup outside the prison doors, yelling to the waiting crowd over and over again "there is black coffee, there is herbal tea, there is coffee with milk!" The pot-bellied man who sold cell phone minutes to anyone who would buy them. What really broke my heart, though, were the contents of the clear plastic bags that the visitors were bringing in to deliver to the women: diapers, and wipes, and other baby goods. I've been thinking about it all day.