This morning as i’m wandering around the house all bunged up with cold and feeling pretty rotton about it, I get a wiff of this smell, reminding me of my childhood in the 80’s. I checked on Iona, (who is now potty trained!) to see if she’d had some kind of accident. (Antibiotic poos are disgusting) and it wasn’t her. I went back into the kitchen and suddenly Sisanda whirls around the corner to show me her hair. This is when I kick myself again for not reading up on the basics on black hair care. She’d smothered a foul smelling perm solution all over her head (no idea where she’d gotten it from) and was absolutely delighted in herself. How an eight year old learns to appy perm solution to her hair I have no idea. I followed her into the bathroom and the smell nearly had me gaging. I quickly opened some windows to air out the house while she set about finnishing what she’d started. I am not sure exactly what she was doing. but it involved a small baby comb, a thing of loo roll, and a blowdryer. I’d like to say at this stage I stepped in and tried to oversee what she was doing. But honestly, I felt too ill to interfere and figured i’d just let her get on with it. I am concerned though as I think that stuff is eating her hair up. In the end she had that puffy black hair look..but she seemed pleased with it. I’d really like to take her somewhere to get her hair done before we go.
Suddenly having an eight year old in the house is helping me foresee huge gaps in my future parenting skills. For those of you who know i’m looking after this little girl for awhile and have images of me smothering her with love and attention as I cuddle her at night, here is a little more of the reality. I need more patience. I really start to lose it over small things and the whole advice of “choosing your battles” rings more true to me now. When the two girls are together they often follow me around the house. If I’m cooking, they’re there. If i’m reading they’re sprawled all over me, if I go to clean a bedroom, they are there dragging their toys in after them. They eat non stop. They are constantly asking me for food. I think yesterday i got extra snappy at Sisanda in particular and thankfully Phumeza came to babysit last night and I was able to clarify some things so she didn’t think I didn’t like her. It’s so hard when you’re just not sure she understands everything.
The other morning I woke up and Sisanda was giving her Barbie a bath in the sink, complete with soap and bubbles. Jon remarked that it’s nice to see her doing “normal kid things” and that’s true. I have to constantly remind myself that she is just a kid. She is only 8 years old and despite her hard past, and the fact she’s probably seen more pain and felt more hurt than I have in my whole lifetime, she’s still just a kid and it’s normal for her to act up and be cheeky even though is in the midst of a “rags to riches” type situation. She’s not little orphan Annie! It’s still normal for her to get jealous and possessive of her things and I have to try and not give full vent to my frusturation when she plays up.
The funny thing is, I’m realizing that so much of how we treat kids is based on our own state of mind, our own mood, and where we are at….so therein lies the need to be consistant regardless of your own mood. Hard stuff.
Sometimes it’s a real blessing to have a playmate for Iona. Other times, it’s hard as she often gets jealous and acts bossy towards her. So many times i have to just stand back and let them fight it out instead of swooping in and rescuing. Then I wonder what people think when we’re out in public. I get scared sometimes that people think she’s the daughting of my maid and that i’m taking her out with me to entertain my own child. I do smile though when she calls out to me “mommy” at the top of her voice when we’re in a store. It reminds me of what a priviledge it’s been to be a part of her life right now and to make the most of it.
