It's madness to be always sitting around in sadness...

When you could be learning the steps of gladness
You'll be happy when you can do
Just six or seven.
-"Stairway to Paradise," originally by George Gershwin, covered by Rufus Wainwright

Today Vanessa at the CP told me that she found out why Hannah Walls hadn't been there lately. She said she couldn't remember exactly why, but that her mother had taken her out and that she was in a different daycare. She mentioned something about the Crazy Cousin who Can't Keep her Mouth Shut, but thought it had to do with a financial situation, so there's no telling. All I'm saying is, if it keeps K.R. out of her home life, I hope she found a wonderful daycare. Hannah was in no way, shape, or form a burden to us - merely someone to work with just that much harder, and I hope her mom didn't get that impression from us, or if she came across my blog, from that. I get sick at the thought of K.R. influencing Mrs. Walls's decision to take Hannah out of the CP, and hope to death that that isn't the reason. Either way, I wish only the best for the Walls family.

Today, Teliesha woke up crying, and I went over to make sure she hadn't had another accident as she had yesterday. When I went to lift her up from her cot I discovered the problem - she was burning up. It's pretty rare for her to continue crying, so when she did, that combined with the warm skin convinced me to take her to the office to get a thermometer. It read 101.1, but when we called the parents nobody picked up. So I held her in my lap while Kearra came over from the infant room and played with the other children. It was pitiful, though, aren't all sick children? Teliesha is just usually so bright and cheerful, and she just laid her head on my chest and kept making pitiful noises. I had her all wrapped up in Ken'Marius's blanket because she said she was cold and rocked her. I know we're not supposed to baby the older children, but I can't stand for a child to be sick and not have his or her parents. Even when I was fourteen and had strept and bronchitis (we didn't know it at the time, of course, but I knew I was sick) and Mom began to leave me in my room at Nana's for the weekend, I began hysterically crying, until Nana told Mom to take me home. As Nana said, "Every sick kid just wants their mother," and it's true. I figure if I can't be the child's mother, I can at least be a pillow to lie on and rub the child's back and take care of them until his/her parent gets there. Her dad finally came, and I hope she gets better soon.

These kind of days are those which make me glad I'm there. Not that I'm the best teacher, by any means, or that I don't think the others would do that, but I only hope that someone will be there for a child in such a way.

I find myself drawn to Huffman United Methodist Church every Sunday now. I can't explain it, because it's certainly not just seeing Joseph and his family, not just seeing Michelle and Charlotte, not just participating in Sula's Sunday School lessons, which have come from Psalms, my favorite book of the Bible, followed closely by Revelation. It's certainly not the slightly-awkward sermons, though I do enjoy the messages throughout. Maybe it's my way of believing there is a way for my father to have seen his family as he mentioned the night of his death; maybe it's my way of hoping I'll meet him again one day if I am so lucky; maybe it's my way of hoping there's a reason Dad had to leave this earth when my convicted-child-molester of a half-brother still lives. Speaking of, I find it absolutely disgusting that I have to put down 'Michael Tidmore' on applications that ask if any sex offenders are related to me. How can people like him be allowed to live?

Anyway, to follow along with my subject line, I'm going to quit troubling myself for answers to these types of questions and browse around on DeviantArt for some Zelda fanart to immerse myself in while I still have a hankering to play Ocarina of Time.

I am such a dork.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.