My Angels

Finally, a post about the 25 children who have changed my life.

Up until now I haven't been able to blog about them because there were no words that sufficiently describe the way I feel when I see their beautiful faces. There is nothing like running into their nursery (because walking takes way too long) and seeing their rosy cheeked faces smiling at me. As soon as I walk in, they all squeal "hola!!" Of course it's pronounced in their toddler way, which is much cuter than real Spanish. Their little arms stretch through the bars of their cribs, begging for good morning hugs. I usually have an awkward moment in the middle of the room when I can't decide who to kiss first, and then to keep things simple I decide to start with the first one I see and make my way around. That'll work. As I get to each one, they each say "Dippy!" Yes, they know my name! You can't fathom my excitement when the first little girl said my name. She said my name, which means she loves me. Oh...I hope I never forget that moment.

I love getting babies out of the tub. There's nothing like a clean little person, curled up in a ball and smelling like heaven, perfectly cuddled into your arms. I hate putting them down on the changing table, it's already a short enough moment. Luckily I get to do it multiple times each morning.

Getting them dressed was a hassle...at first. Those tiny beings know how to wiiiiggglllee. You flip over, I flip you back. I almost get the diaper on....FAIL. It's completely crooked. Please don't eat the baby lotion. Shoot, the snaps on your onesie don't match up. I get one leg into your leggings, and as I'm putting the other in, you pull the first out. Yes, I KNOW that's a zapato. "Dapato, Dapato, Dapato!!" Please don't throw your socks on the floor.

Solution: hand them the tube of diaper rash cream. They'll be entranced and won't wiggle a bit. I can now dress each child and have them happily playing in the playroom in under 3 minutes, shoes and socks intact.

Next comes breakfast, which is a usually a community bowl of yogurt or jello, along with each child yelling "ma, ma, ma!!" They're supposed to sit against the wall and calmly wait their turn, without hitting any other children, of course. Yeah RIGHT. Breakfast usually ends with yogurt smeared faces, soggy ripped-up napkins, and outfits that are no longer spotlessly clean. Fortunately, there are also happy children. Meal times are always a perfect opportunity to teach good manners, so when they yell "ma, ma, ma" we say, "Que se dice?" to which they respond "ba fa va." Por favor! Sometimes I ask them to say "please" an excessive amount of times, just because I think it's so dang cute.

Playing with these babies is the best part of the day. There's running, hitting, laughing, biting, smiling, falling, crawling, squealing, and teaching. You know the best part? They're the ones teaching me. I've never met people more Christ-like than these angels. I've learned more from them than I could ever learn sitting in a classroom and talking about Christ. I think they still remember Him. They know what He was like, and they know they want to be like Him. They know with more of a determination than I do. I hope I learn something from this, and become better, because if not I will have put amazing lessons to a terrible waste.

The worst part of the day is saying "goodbye." We put most of them down for siestas (naps), but usually there are a few who want to cram in as much playtime as they can, so they refuse to go to the crib. That is perfectly fine with me. But leaving time eventually comes, as it always has. And even though it's hard to walk away, I appreciate the love I feel from them, and I know they'll miss me too. Each afternoon we walk out to chimes of "chau! chau! chau!" And my favorite part (for which words cannot do justice) is when they finish the "chau" with a kiss to the air. Further explanation: it's kind of a "chauuuuuMUAH!!" It makes my heart skip a beat. Every time.

I think I've tasted a bit more of what it's like to be a parent. There is not a love in this world that compares to what I feel for these children. My children. I would do anything for them. Every day when I see them, I am overwhelmed with an urge to provide everything they will ever need. All I want for them is their health, safety, and happiness. Nothing else in the world matters when I'm kissing their chubby cheeks and squeezing their chunky thighs, making them laugh hysterically. It's impossible to be sad as long as they're around.

I don't know what I'll do without them.

I love you, babies. More than you will ever know.