When the right decision is the hardest.

I need to write a blog. No really when I get back to Uganda, I’m going to sit down once a week and write. I’m going to write about everything, not just the snip-its people read on Facebook. Really tell the story of living here in Uganda. That’s what I said to myself two weeks ago when I was back in the US.

I really hope this is the start of writing weekly, but I can’t make any promises.

I arrived back to Uganda last Wednesday morning at about 3 am. Jack picked me up and we headed to a guesthouse in Entebbe to catch up on sleep and well to catch up without the love and energy four boys who haven’t seen their mom in 8 weeks exude. I called Mary the girl who kept the boys for those 8 weeks and told her I’d be home the next day.

Mary called the next morning at 11 and the boys were all shouting, vying for the phone as she was telling me they knew I was going to be back that day, they had showered, dressed and were anxiously awaiting my arrival home. I told them I’d be home by 2. At about 12:30 they called asking what color van we were going to be in, as they were watching all the cars from the main road drive past waiting to see “uncle jack’s or as they now affectionately refer to him as daddy, a name Michael chose and profusely insists upon when I slip up and call him Uncle Jack”.

Upon our arrival it was all hugs, smiles and they were ready to go out for pizza and chicken and chips, I could not disappoint them so we loaded back into the car and went into town.

Mary let me know as I walked in the door she’d been accepted into university and Tanja my former American roommate had offered to pay for her first semester. I was so happy for Mary, she’s a bright girl and deserves so much more of a future than being my “house girl” as her position is commonly referred to here…I preferred to call her my House Manager, because really she ran the show. And the term “house girl” makes my skin crawl.

I was sad for myself, I’d no longer have someone who had a good rapport with the boys, could help me around the house and stay with them when I’m in Kampala working late or traveling outside of the country. I quickly knew I was going to have to make some hard decisions before the next term, which starts on September 8^th.

I made the excruciating decision to put the two younger boys into boarding school with the two older boys. Let’s face it being a parent is hard. Being a single parent is harder. Being a single parent for the first time in your life to four children who are 6-13 years old few people would make that choice but so far I'd make that decision over and over every day for the rest of my life. 

Being a parent in a developing country, where you can’t just throw them in the car, run them thru the drive thru or order pizza, what do you mean I have to cook these kids three meals a day? Oh and their laundry has to be done by hand because that’s how most people do it here. Oh right and run a non-profit. And travel back to the US to make money because you haven’t quite gotten the hang of raising enough money to collect a salary from your non-profit that you go back to your old career to make money. Most of the money that you make goes right back into those kids that you love so much and the whole reason really why you moved here is to be in their life, yeah now they are going to be tucked a way in a boarding school while you’re just down the road…hanging out by yourself. yes I cried making this decision, the one side of my brain tried to search for ways on how I could make it work, keeping them home, but knowing there was just no way I could move The Bernie Project along, go back to the US to work and keep some semblance of stability and safety for my boys. Boarding school was the right and hardest decision. 

Their new school isn’t like their former school. Their old school I could scoop them up on Wednesday and take them swimming if I wanted to, or take them out of class for 3 weeks. No one would have cared. Their new school, it’s real with rules. Sure I can go visit them, but not like every day or even every weekend.

I cried to Jack. I mean I really cried. It’s not the decision I wanted to make, but it’s for the best. Mahadi seems so little to be sending away to boarding school, where he will have to make his own bed, do his own wash, hopefully the matron will remind him to brush his teeth before he goes to bed. Michael is so sensitive, little mama’s boy, he’s been under my feet since I stepped back in the door. He can’t get enough attention from me. But he’s struggling to catch up in P3 and being in boarding means he will hopefully improve. When I told the boys they were going to boarding school they were more ok with it than I expected. Last term Mahadi wanted to go but that was just because the big boys had suitcases and there were snacks inside. September 7^th is going to be a hard day for me, I’m going to need big sunglasses and a painted on smile and try not to boohoo all over the teachers and matrons “who is this mzungu mom who can’t keep it together, it’s just boarding school woman, not the army or outer space”. 

To most Ugandans, boarding school is a way of life and many will tell you it’s the best thing for a child, where they learn manners and responsibility, etc.

I’m trying to look on the bright side for myself. I’ll be able to devote more time to developing the new initiatives in my head. Maybe meet some new people. Maybe see more of Uganda and Africa. Figure out how to make money without having to leave the country so much. Maybe learn some new recipes before the boys come back home for the holidays or maybe I’ll just sit on my couch and eat corn flakes.

I didn’t feel I could find someone the boys would like and I would trust in the next 6 weeks to stay with the boys for another 8 weeks as I head out of the country again for work in October and November.

I’m cherishing these next two weeks while all four are home for the holidays. Trying to be patient. Trying to say yes as much as I can without spoiling them. Figuring out how to make pasta and rice 25 different ways between now and then, so they can keep telling me my food is "Awesome"...that's how low their bar for food has been set, when my food is deemed "Awesome". Finding some time to have fun but also preparing to repack the big boys for boarding and shop for the little boys for boarding.

Two weeks ago I thought my weekly blog would be about life with two little boys in my house and what it’s like to be a mom in Uganda…now it might just be my cooking failures and photos of me sitting on the couch eating cornflakes.