Another Week, Another Death.

Several days ago, a nineteen-year-old young man was shot and killed by a homeowner when trying to break into that man's home. The homeowner saw the gun the young man carried and fired his own gun to protect his pregnant wife and two preschool-age children; he then ran out into the street, devastated, traumatized, hysterical. The poor man. He didn't want to kill anyone, but he needed to protect his family.

Of course, KidThree knew the young man. He was the grandson of her godmother, a woman who has already lost a son to street violence. This grandson was totally in the wrong, his actions indefensible, but that doesn't make his loss any less tragic or painful for his family. I've met the godmother--she is a lovely, lovely woman with an equally lovely husband. When KidThree was shot, this woman took immediate action, organizing a fundraiser at KidThree's former elementary school; she then took the money raised to shop for things that KidThree would need while in the hospital and presented them to KidThree. This godmother is a wonderful, churchgoing, law-abiding woman in a stable marriage, but she and her husband still couldn't keep their one son safe or this grandson on the right path. Obama had better get elected; we need him as president to show little black boys and young black men that they do have hope, they do have choices, they can make a positive difference. Trusted adults can't do it alone, not in the face of all the negatives the kids are getting.

KidThree asked me if I had ever felt like people were dying all around me. I told her I hadn't, but she wasn't imagining things, as kids really were dying all around her. KidThree is having trouble processing that amount of life lost with the idea that life is precious. Her poor soul is being sorely battered these days.

Sigh.

KidTwo finally posted about the theft in Otavalo. She did preface the description of the incident with "mama, you're not going to like this one bit," and of course I didn't, but it really was just things taken from her purse. The part I didn't like was when she and FriendS confronted the thieves a bit later. Too dangerous, Kids! Not worth it. KidTwo lost an irreplaceable notebook and FriendS lost a camera belonging to his father. Ouch. The notebook is a real loss, given the memories and information it contained, but cameras can be replaced. KidTwo and FriendS weren't hurt, which is really all that counts. It's nice, too, that they lost no money and no government documentation, but the important thing is that they were both okay. And now they will be that much more vigilant when out and about in unfamiliar places. FriendS returned to the states two days ago; KidTwo will miss him.

KidOne came and got her last two tanks (SnakeJ and The Frogs) yesterday and fixed up an empty tank for KidThree's SnakeQ, as SnakeQ had outgrown his last previous tank. That tank is now home to an as-yet-unnamed baby snake fathered by SnakeJ. KidThree is still working on a name for that one. The nice thing about having KidOne's last two tanks gone is that one of them was taking space on my bedroom floor, making it difficult to move things around too much (I didn't want to trip over it and set SnakeJ loose in that mass of clutter), and the other was on a bookcase I wanted to move into KidThree's room.

KidOne went to the nearby Reptile Show yesterday; she makes that pilgrimage every year. This year she was unaccompanied, always a dangerous thing for her at reptile shows, but she managed to hold herself to just one impulse buy. Given her love of all things reptilian and amphibian, it could have been much, much worse. I dread the day she succumbs somewhere to the cuteness of a baby Komodo dragon or decides to be a foster parent to a misunderstood anaconda.

My job around home today is to get KidThree's room arranged, as now all the pieces that needed to be gone are gone and all the things that needed to be moved around can be moved around. I can do that while she works on her homework. In addition to fixing up KidThree's room, I have some cooking to do: macaroni and cheese for the freezer, the revamped potato kugel, and another potato thing with smoked mozzarella and prosciutto. The weather is cool, we have no place we need to be, and there are no errands that need to be done. It will be a good at-home day.

Last night I babysat MissA and her brother, LittleJ, while their parents went out to dinner. In her email to me, their mother had said that LittleJ was talking more; I looked forward to hearing that and was hoping that my concerns about possible autism would just be my misreading of things. Uh uh. What a night. Going over there is difficult for me--I enjoy the heck out of MissA's company and she so obviously enjoys my attention and books, but LittleJ is draining. He was alarmed when he first saw me and headed to his mother for comfort. She took him upstairs for a bit while she finished getting ready, then came down with him and the parents headed out.

LittleJ was okay for about twenty minutes, then he started in. Crying and roaring, "maamaaaaa," inconsolably at the top of his voice. This went on for about thirty minutes. Then it was time for the kids to have their bath. LittleJ stopped his roaring while in the bathroom and, after a few minutes in the tub with MissA, started to have fun splashing around. He continued to be okay through getting dried off and dressed in pajamas, then played quietly on his bedroom floor while MissA and I sat in the rocker in there and read stories. Then MissA put on a cd of lullabies for LittleJ and he hopped right into bed. MissA and I went into her room, where I read several more stories while she cleared up her closet floor, hanging up the clean clothes that were scattered all over. She went to bed after that, then LittleJ started up again. Crying, roaring, "maaaamaaaaaaa" at the top of his heartbroken voice, over and over and over again. He kept getting out of bed, trying to get into MissA's room (where she most definitely did not want him to be), trying to get to his parents' bedroom, trying to go downstairs. This went on for an hour, until I heard the garage door open and was able to get across to LittleJ that his parents were home. He was still snuffling a bit when they came in.

I still think this little dude is not okay. I did hear him say a couple of almost inarticulate 'words,' but that was it for speech. He definitely avoided eye contact with me, and played entirely on his own when not roaring for his mother, ignoring whatever MissA and I might be doing. And the never-ending roaring for maaamaaaaa--that is just not ordinary behavior. Not to that extent, or for that long, or that consistently. LittleJ is going to have a tough time in this cold, cold world.

I earned $40 from that session and every penny of it was gone by the time I got home. The gas tank was on empty, so there went the first twenty, then I stopped at the grocery store to get a little bit of meat and some fruit, salad dressing, potatoes, and napkins, and there went the other twenty, plus another couple of dollars.

Prior to that babysitting, I spent the day at the Senior Center with the old folks. We had a particularly nice group of volunteers to help with just the few clients who came; two of our most active clients were off at an event at another center they attend. We had a visiting couple spend the day with us. What happens there is that someone will get a referral to our program, then they and the cognitively-impaired senior they care for come in to spend a day to see how our program works. We spend that day getting to know the prospective client and to show the caregiver how our program works. This particular pair was a husband and wife, with the husband having Alzheimer's. His condition was not terribly advanced, just enough so we could be of real help. He had a very dour exterior but after a little bit I worked out how to get around that and had a good time with him, introducing him to some board games and jigsaw puzzles. He liked the jigsaw puzzles, having previously had no experience at all with them. I think his wife will bring him back. She won't stay on subsequent visits, but instead will use the time to get some rest or run some errands or do some other thing she can't do while caring for him.

Tomorrow pre-trial motions start.

A