"Mr. Right" shirts and princess pants

Working with the kids has been amazing so far, even more so because they don't yet know how special they are. Every one of them is filled with the innocence and happiness that comes with childhood. It's contagious.

Their parents faces tell me they're tired. I wonder what they've been through to get here and what they've left behind, but will never get the nerve to ask.

I hope that their children don't lose their happiness-- that they keep their awe and wonder of the world they're in. That they don't let life bring them down.

I think of them every day, and the days when I wake up to see them, I think of them ALL day. Their smiles and small feet. The foreign smells of another culture, their accents and names which are so hard to pronounce.

Most importantly, I think of their trust. I already love them, and know in a few more days they'll love me back. I never want to take that for granted.

They come to school sleepy, excited, not ready to leave their mothers for the day. The boys wear princess pajamas and the girls wear shirts that say things like, "Future Mr. Right!" They don't know or care about America's cultural standards yet, and it makes me happy. We should be glad to even have clothes. There are so many more important things their parents are worrying about, and my heart aches to see the lines on their faces that I know aren't from age.

I'm dying to take photos of them so that I can remember them if they don't come back to school come fall, but I'm not sure that'd be alright. Either way, they're the only reason I'd ever wake up before 7 of my own accord. <3

Carry on, carry on

As if nothing really matters...

I still have no idea why anyone at all would put up with me, why any of my nonsensical texts ever get replies, why my ridiculous ideas and eerily bossy commands are humored, and most importantly, why anyone would put up with me.
I'm a little off, I scare easily, push too much, and enjoy showtunes... a lot. I never plan, am rarely sure of what I want, and can't multitask. I won't make breakfast, don't know what to say, and would rather watch movies alone. I'm loud and make too many dirty jokes. I love to keep, but hate being kept. And then I run, run, run.

On the plus side, I have pretty hair, have often been told I smell nice, love to give hugs, can paint a nice picture, and quote/listen to good music, according to me.

So I guess it balances out.

Hahaha. Honestly, I'm so sure of what's best for me it's almost comical to watch myself gravitate toward the opposite.

Sing it, baby.