Put your toys away and other beautiful sentences...

The words "Will you PLEASE put your toys away!" Almost flew out of my mouth a minute ago. But the moment I thought to say it, I sat down and smiled.

I've been very stressed this morning as I discovered that some sort of foreign Mexican insect is eating the wood chairs in the apartment, one of our air conditioners is not working and FOR THE LIFE OF ME... I CANNOT figure out how to dial the maintenance man's cell phone number from my Mexican home phone. He doesn't speak English anyway. I was almost in tears when that thought rose up to just barely in front of my lips. Mostly because I'm tired of being the brave, independent,  alone mother/woman trailblazer in Mexico and just want a man here. Feminist minded friends beware, this is going to make you uncomfortable.  I am READY for that other part of my life where I cook and clean and hand over the remote and a man does all the "manly" things and I do the womanly things. I am tired of having to try to figure out what insect is eating my furniture and how to communicate with service people. I'm tired of using tools and lifting heavy things and trying to find the hardware store. I'm tired of walking around with my corrections officer/investigator posture and speaking the "Don't mess with me. I can take you down" body language when I leave my house. I'm tired of being brave and not being able to be afraid when I'm in certain parts of town. I'm tired of  being the sole disciplinarian of the kids and the only leader of the household. I'm ready to be the weaker, dependent, too short to reach the top shelf, cant open that jar, what's that tool do,  you yell at the kids this time woman. I am READY. I am so tired.  I am ready to hand over some of the manish burdens to someone more capable. And like it or not, a man is more capable than I at many many things. I am ready to be what I am. I am ready to embrace my woman-ness and revel in his man-ness. But, this too shall pass. 

   Unfortunately,  Mexican insects don't care that I'd rather them wait to start eating chairs and air conditioners don't care about how I feel.  And no matter how soon a man arrives, I still won't know how to say air conditioner in Spanish convincingly. Sigh. So, today my goal is to manage these crises on my own. Crises that would be simpler to tackle in my own country and seem like mountainous tasks in this one. And so, my stress level hit a top. Literally, a little wooden top that I've stepped on 10 times this week. And nagging words about putting up toys almost left my lips.

But they didn't. They stopped me in my tracks. I sat down. I smiled. I tried very hard to remember the last time I'd SAID the word "toy", much less pairing them with the words "put up" and "YOUR". My boys are all iphones and laptops and snap chats and Instagrams. My sons are X boxes and YouTube and going to hang out with their friends so they can all stare at their iphones or play with their X boxes together. Occasionally a basketball or a nerf gun is requested.  But they collect dust after a day or two. Sometimes I get a glimpse of them when they beg for a game of Monopoly, but Pandora or Spotify plays in the background and turns are slowed down by message answering (for which I am also very guilty). Toys are near extinction in my big ole house in Texas. They're replaced by technology aged teens with headphones and social media profiles on sites I'm too old for.

But THIS tiny house is becoming filled with little wooden toys because... (in the epic words of my oldest son to explain his year of homeschooling)... Because Mexico. My children are being children. The "glimpses" during a game of Monopoly are turning into almost nightly games of cards and dominoes and YES, Monopoly en espanol! When I dole out pesos to spend as they wish, they don't come home with headphones and new video games, they come home with wooden tops and handmade yoyos and games that seem to step out of another, simpler time. I am watching them tranform back and forth  from digruntled, complicated, raging, eye-rolling, fit throwing "you're ruining my LIFE"  teens to children enjoying spinning a wooden top across the porch and off each others hands and heads. I am watching them go back and forth from bickering siblings to having a beach wrestling match or giving each other "water taxi" rides and throwing their little brother around in the ocean and playing "keep away" and Marco Polo in the pool.  It is BEAUTIFUL! It is tears-streaming-down-my-face beautiful.

And it's worth every disgruntled teenage complaint or rage. It's worth my mother not being COMPLETELY approving of our decision to take this adventure.  It's worth being brave for as long as it takes. It's worth being in such a small space together that there's no avoiding all the talking about teenage thinks and stinks and the "I hate you mom!" moments. It's worth missing some school plays or band concerts or trips to the mall. It's worth every sacrifice and scar that might get left from this adventure. It's worth stepping on wooden tops EVERY SINGLE DAY. (and thanking Buddha there are no Legos here)

So I will figure out how to say Air Conditioner in Spanish. I will just go find the maintanence man. I'll go back to the Mega and wander around until I manage to find the Mexican version of Raid for wood eating insects. I'll be happy tomorrow with being a strong, independent woman who had a footstool and knows every trick in the book for opening jars. This too shall pass. 

And, I have no intention of telling them to put away their toys. And I'm going to listen to them when they tell ME to put away MY phone.

Because Mexico... and Because life is short and childhood is even shorter.