First, some levity in the form of owls.
Owl cowl, and its big brother, the owl belly warmer.
Happy with how these turned out
Anyway, on to the bummer.
One of my preschoolers' dad just died. She doesn't know yet. She's 3. He was 67.
He is survived by his wife, 65, to whom he was married for one month, and with whom he raised a child for the past 6 months. They adopted her from an Ethiopian orphanage a little while back, and were shocked at the amount of work that goes into raising a child who doesn't speak english and has suffered various mental and physical traumas. Go figure.
They're stupid hippies who got married with mood rings and I think I might have more contempt for them than just about anyone I have ever met. To bring a child halfway across the world into a home with people who don't speak your language (but insist that you love Bob Marley and P Funk) when you know goddamn well that it will be a miracle if both of you are alive when she's 20 is such an insanely short-sighted and, frankly, selfish act that I can barely begin to wrap my head around how they thought it might be a good, even virtuous thing to do.
To adopt a child at age 67 when you have numerous pre-existing health conditions, no experience raising a child, and are living off of retirement savings is fucking insane, and every time I saw her father drop her off, I could see that realization dawning on him more and more. He has been in and out of the hospital for months, and the school's been watching her pro bono every day the past two weeks while he's been on life support.
Her mom is a part time music teacher with no family to speak of, but at least she has a litany of like minded friends to help pick up the slack.
I just can't deal with the fact that, probably within a decade or two, this girl is going to be an orphan twice over. I know that realistically the quality of life that she will likely have here is much better than it would have been as an orphan in Ethiopia, but this whole thing just feels... wrong. I can understand getting to your late 60s and wanting to give back, but this is not the fucking way.
I pray that she doesn't end up in foster care, and that her mom stays alive until she's at least 18. She's the happiest kid I've ever met, and I'm gonna be a mess when I see her on monday.
Also, I'm pretty content with the fact that none of these kids will remember me in a few years, but my heart is aching knowing that she's going to have basically no memories of the man who thought he could be her dad.