"Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"

In September, My mom and I went to a party/barbecue/hangout-in-the-pool-day at her friends' house.
Because my Dad couldn't come, I got to sit at the grown-up table!
I am 22 years old, and I act like a kid on Christmas whenever I get to sit at the grown-up table, it's such a rarity. (My sister was at the party too, and I love her, but she doesn't count because she had to sit at the kids' table.)
So we're sitting at the grown-up table and they started asking me about my upcoming trip to Tanzania.
Oh my gosh, I just remembered there was Port Wine cheese at this party, AAH I LOVE Port Wine cheese!
Sorry, I'm hungry.
So we were talking about Africa, and then the grown-ups started making bets on whether or not I'd ever come home.
Mr. and Mrs. Mistretta said I would come home, but then come back to Africa.
Mr. Koch said I would come home, but it would be with an African baby.
Mr. Susich said I was never coming home.
Mrs. Koch, Mrs. Susich, and my mom said I was definitely coming home... or else.
And I just cried. You'll find I do that a lot.
(I think that was right, if I got your vote wrong, I'm sorry, it was 5 months ago.)

Listen guys, I'm definitely coming home. I want Chili's.
I think they were all right.
That's correct. I'm bringing a baby home.


Not really, but I wish. How thoroughly do you think they check your bags at customs?
I will be home in May, and I know it will be great. I miss my family, my friends, my dog, my boss and coworkers, my job, my clients, and FOOD.
But I know I will be back here.
My home will always be in New Jersey.
But they say home is where the heart is.
And these kids took their little hands, shoved them through my chest, took out my heart, and divided it amongst themselves.
I will never get it back.
And I'm okay with that.
This is home too.
I'm sitting here on our front stoop, writing this, listening to the crickets, the dogs barking, and the Maasai guys in our neighborhood doing their weird Maasai singing/yelling.
And it feels normal.
It feels like home.

Today, some friends and I took the kids from the Hope Orphan Center to Lake Duluti to go swimming.
It was so much fun!
The kids were scared of the water and I was swimming with multiple children hanging on my neck, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they were MY kids.
Some local guy was splashing them and grabbing their ankles and trying to scare them.
I was getting so angry.
At one point, I had a little boy on my back, and this rude guy tried to swim between my legs to scare us.
So what did I do?
Well being a crazy girl from New Jersey, naturally, I shut my knees together and squeezed the guy's head.
Before I realized it's a bad idea to squeeze a person's head underwater, I thought, "Don't mess with my kids, ya schmuck!"
And then I let him go.
I just feel so protective of these kids. I have to take care of them, there's no choice.

They've been placed in my life.
They're mine.
Rosie is mine.
Angel is mine.
Over the past four months, my family has expanded immensely, along with my heart.
There are days when I'm ready to go home, when I just want to watch Lifetime movies with my mom, or go to the beach with my friends, or hang out with my dog (that's not weird), or even go to work.
But in reality, I do not know how I am going to be able to leave my babies.
I just have to hold on to hope that I will see them again.
I have less than six weeks left.
That's nothing.

So here's what we're gonna do.
I have like 60 kids that I'm bringing back with me.
So you guys need to mail me like 45 suitcases, and when I get to the airport, everybody grab a suitcase and run.
Go in different directions to throw the cops off the trail, and then we'll meet at Chili's at around 6:00.
Dinner's on you, cause I don't have money, and I got 60 mouths to feed.
Okay? Okay.
Sounds great, see ya then.

-Braver than I Believe.

Consider the lilies of the field...

As I sit here in my bed, home with a twisted ankle, listening to Taylor Swift, I cannot help but believe that things always work out.
The past few weeks have been some of the most trying weeks of my life.
I've been dealing with some insomnia, which just makes me so exhausted, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It's almost comical how much I've been crying.

I cry when I'm sad.
I cry when I'm tired.
I cry when I'm excited.
I cried when I took Rosie to the hospital. Many times.
I cried when I found out Rosie has malaria.
I cried when I came home and told everyone about my day at the hospital.
I cried when I had to wait for an hour at Western Union.
I cried when my friend told me the plot to the movie Simon Birch.
I cry every time I skype ANYONE. Seriously, if you don't want me to cry, don't skype me.
I cried when I talked to one of my favorite clients, Alyson, and she said nice things to me.
I cry every time someone says anything nice about me.
I cried when we were talking about getting proposed to at Disney World.
I cried when I went to pick Rosie up, and she was still sick.
I cried when I was reading the 1st Harry Potter this weekend, and Neville got awarded the 10 points that won Gryffindor the house cup, because I was just thinking that probably felt so great.
I cried when I didn't know how I would be able to pay Rosie's hospital bills.
I cried when an anonymous organization paid them for me.
I cried when $200 went missing from my suitcase.
I cried when one of my friends who was leaving, gave me money to help take Rosie to physio.
I cried this morning when I twisted my ankle on the way to school.
I am crying right now.

For the past few years, I've been a pretty big cry baby, but this is getting out of hand.
But hey, good news is coming!
In this difficult time, I am learning so much.
Every time something goes wrong, I feel like it is the end of the world.
But so far, nothing has been the end of the world yet.
The world is still in tact.
Things always work out.
On Sunday, I was talking to Rosie's school director telling him I did not know how I would be able to pay her hospital bills. He told me, "Katrinah, God will take care of you. You are doing a good thing for one of His children, He will take care of you." ...Two minutes later, Rosie's mom called and said that the people at the hospital had just told her that there was an organization paying for her hospital bills because she is disabled."
Things like this happen EVERY time something goes wrong.
It never stays wrong for long.
But still, I always get nervous when things go wrong.
Why? They ALWAYS turn out fine.
I am learning that I just need to trust that things will be okay.
I waste so much time worrying when something bad happens, and then all of a sudden, it's turned around, and I'm shocked every time. Like it's a surprise.
It's not a surprise. I am being taken care of. I need to trust that.
After almost 4 months in Africa, I am finally truly starting to realize I will never be forsaken.
I am not forgotten.
The birds of the air neither reap nor sow, the lilies of the field neither toil nor spin...
I'll be fine.
That's a beautiful epiphany.

I am a character in the Muppets Treasure Island.

Ooph, it has been some week so far, and it's only Wednesday. 

Dave Hasz, an old teacher of mine, whom I admire greatly, once said, "an optimist gets thrown into a barn full of horse manure, and starts looking for the horse." 

WHERE IS THIS FREAKIN HORSE?!?!

I am standing in a pile of manure right now searching for the dang horse. 

I have been stretched and tried so much in the last days, I feel like Gonzo in the Muppets Treasure Island, when they put him in the torture machine where they stretch him out and twist his body, except I didn't get tall and skinny afterward. 

I have been feeling really sick the past few weeks, and so fatigued. I find my mind racing all night, unable to sleep and then I am so exhausted all day. 

I finally went to the hospital today to figure out if anything is wrong. I had to have a bunch of tests done and have blood taken. The lab tech couldn't find veins on either of my arms (after some unsuccessful jabbing and poking unnecessarily with needles), so he had to take it out of my hand, which REALLY hurt.

As it turns out, nothing is really wrong with me, I just have a cough and cold from the kids, and I'm so fatigued because my immune system is having a really hard time keeping up with all my snot covered students. So I spent 45,000 Shillings and got brutally stabbed with needles to find out I just need to sleep more and drink more water.

On Monday, I took Rosie to the hospital to meet with the doctors from Germany. We left at 7am and I didn't get home until 5:30pm. It was a LONG day. After waiting around for hours and hours, she met with the doctors and they told her that surgery would not be necessary, they will be able to fix her legs with splints and casts, which is awesome! What is not awesome, is that she has malaria. She will be staying in the hospital until Friday, because her mom needs help taking care of her and administering the meds. Rosie puked on me twice. I love her, but I really wish she wouldn't vomit on me, it's gross. I had to deal with the Tanzanian doctor and pharmacist who didn't speak English and asked me to speak Kiswahili to them. Ummmm... I can bargain cab rides and teach numbers, letters, body parts, and days of the week, and hold a pretty decent conversation, but I know nothing about how to speak of medicine in Swahili. To top everything off, I don't really want to get into it, but I felt that Rosie's mother was trying to get a lot of money out of me (which I don't have) and trying to take advantage of me. Since I was a little kid, people have often tried to take advantage of me. It really upsets me, because I would give anything to anyone if I was able. I came home and sat down and just cried, because it was just such a long day and I was so emotionally drained.

Rosie had to get tested for malaria, which just requires them to take a little blood, but she was SCREAMING. That was so hard for me to watch. I am not her mother, but my heart was breaking. She was in so much pain, and I had to help inflict the pain on her, because it was for her own good. It gives me a whole new respect for my mom and all the other moms I know. You know your baby is in pain, and it's partially your fault, but you're doing it to help them. It hurt me so badly to see her hurting and not be able to do anything.

Okay, I'm done complaining. 

The point of this is that this has been a rough week.

But in the midst of all this manure, there is a horse.

I don't have any infectious diseases, it's just a side-effect of spending time with my awesome kids, which is completely worth it.

Rosie is in the care of awesome doctors, and she won't need surgery.

The horrible incident of the needle-poking-rosie-screaming resulted in her finding out she has malaria and being able to treat it.

Vomit washes off.

I am learning to be grateful in the midst of trials.

Adversity makes me stronger.

And maybe, like Gonzo, these trials will make me stand a little taller.

I am Braver than I Believe.

Rock everything you do.

I have a lot of best friends. 

It's a weird thing about me.

I don't have a million acquaintances.

When I become friends with a person, I give them my whole heart.

I have a lot of close, dear friends.

I was blessed with one of the most amazing bestfriends a person could wish for.

She was smart, funny, beautiful, sweet, compassionate, caring, kind, and a little cheeky.

My best friend meant the world to me.

I told her everything, and she did the same.

We laughed together, cried together, screamed together, and sang together.

We loved together and feared together.

We held hands when she told me the cancer came back.

When she went to Arizona for treatment, I gave her the teddy bear who now sits on my pillow next to my head in Africa.

A part of me died when she did.

And then, even after she was gone, she told me that was stupid. She told me I wasn't allowed to be dead.

So I came back to life.

With a vengeance.

Caiti knew that my heart had Africa written all over it. And she loved that.

We talked about the incredible things we would do. How we would one day change the world.

I am an idealist. I make crazy plans to make the world a better place. It's unrealistic.

Caiti loved that.

She loved my crazy ideas about coming to Africa and doing something about the things I don't like in the world.

I wish I could see her face when she saw that I was actually doing it.

Caiti once told me, "Rock everything you do."

Caiti shared so much with me.

Her life, her feelings, her thoughts, her lunch, and even her family.

That was the greatest gift she ever gave me.

I am still so close with her family. 

Her siblings and parents are some of the greatest people you could ever meet.

Her mother, Michelle, has been one of my greatest supporters in this journey to Africa.

Her siblings make me laugh more than most people in the world.

Today, I got a package.

I was expecting a package.

A group of people from my church put together a package for me and my students.

I was expecting that.

What I was not expecting, was the second package.

A brown box with a return address that said "The Brown Family"

I started crying right there in the post office.

Just because I was surprised, and blindsided by the kindness of friends.

The box had all of the delicious snacks I could possibly want.

Cookies, candy, popcorn, Kraft Dinner, a note, and a picture.

A picture of my bestfriend, Caiti, with the inscription:

"She would be so proud of you."

Sitting on my bed, holding a box of macaroni and a package of gummy worms, I cried.

And it wasn't tears of sadness.

It was tears of gratefulness.

Tears of truth.

It was something I needed to hear.

Caiti was the biggest advocate for people living out their dreams.

For people trying to conquer the world.

She would love this.

Even being gone from my life, Caiti continuously inspires me to be the best me that I can.

Sometimes I need some encouragement.

I need to know that what I'm doing means something.

Because you guys hear the good stories, the incredible things.

I don't tend to blog about the week straight I stay home because I got a bacterial infection, or the days when my students have tantrums and punch me.

I don't tend to blog about the days when kids pee on me, or the days when no matter what I do, I feel like I can't get through to my students and I feel like I'm teaching nothing. The week where I'm dealing with insomnia and literally stay up all night, not being able to sleep, thinking about the plight of the my students and how I don't think I can actually make any difference and start to hyperventilate because I am nobody.

"She would be so proud of you."

She would.

Because she understood something that I tend to forget.

The big moments are awesome, but the big moments don't matter alone.

You can have ten big moments and a hundred thousand little moments.

A hundred thousand moments of peeing kids or frustrating classes.

But without those, you only had ten moments.

Ten moments is nothing.

I have less than two months left.

And I want to fill those two months with moments, big and small.

And I want to rock every single moment.

Because they matter.

She knew that.

She rocked every moment.

Miss you Caiti, thanks for teaching me how to rock.