Parenting Take Two

Tonight I'm feeling the heavy responsibility of making decisions for other mothers' sons. Last week we had a sit-down heavy-duty talk about aggressive American females and how to run from temptation (prodded by the pending homecoming dance hoopla). This week we are navigating a possible ankle injury to the runner. All uncharted territory with boys from another world it seems. With our own boys my strategy was simple: Be mean to the girls who call my house. Tell my boys that the girls that chase them are not the ones they want. Repeat this mantra: Don't do drugs. Don't have sex. Remind them that they will NOT be in a car with a girl alone until they are 18. Pray real hard. (In case you don't know me very well, there is a lot of truth in this, but also a little exaggeration). In some ways, we are doing the parenting better the second time around because we are assuming nothing and talking about everything!

Take the possibly injured ankle, for instance. We cannot assume that this pain he is telling us about is just a little owie that will go away with ice and ibuprofen. We don't know if he is as tough as our boys ("I'm fine mom- I can wrestle on this broken ankle!!" OR... "I do NOT have a concussion!") or if he is more sensitive and, um, sensible. We do know that his tribe's cure for the malaria he had 2 years ago was to spend 2 weeks in the forest eating beef and roots. Hm..

When we signed up for 2 African boys, I did not stop to think that we would be so responsible for sending them home whole, pure, and better than when they came. I understand that they bear some responsibility for their actions also, but I spoke to Victor's mama on the phone tonight. She is counting on me and I don't want to let her down.