Yesterday, while walking children home from school, while we were learning some choice words in Spanish from our Mexican neighbor friend, Irazu, she asked if she could come over to play. I told her my gut response, which was, “No.”
“Why?” she asked persistently.
“Because… my kids need to come inside… today,” I said, realizing how lame I sounded. The previous day, I had wordlessly allowed Irazu to linger and play in our backyard, because the weather was warm and the kids were all getting along well. They jumped right onto the swing set and were having a grand old time. I let it go, and an hour later had sent her home, and brought in my own kids to do homework and the usual routine.
But yesterday I wasn’t sure I was up for the same. I was feeling pretty tired. When I gave it further thought, however, I realized it was actually easier to have the kids playing in the back yard, happily, than to bring them all indoors and figure out how to segue homework, TV time, snacks, and the apparently vastly divergent needs of three different small people who have a tendency to squabble.
Council turned to me and said, “Oh, please, mama? We want to play ‘Mexico.’” Ah, yes, I remembered.
“Okay, you can come over for half an hour, Irazu.”
Irazu gave a little jump for joy and then informed me that she would have to let her auntie know. “Yesterday, my auntie was mad to me. She was really mad to me, because I did not come home on time. She told me that she needs me to come and ask her if I need to be at your house, so I have to go home first.”
Made sense. “Okay, that sounds good. And then you can come over. Oh, and Irazu—” she turned around to face me. “Please tell your auntie I said lo siento about yesterday.”
She ran off to tell her auntie, and I herded my kids inside to shuffle their things around and put them away—the everyday dance after school. When Irazu returned, I went outside to talk with her for a minute.
“My mom is home today. It’s weird—the man did not come to pick her up for work. She says maybe there is no work today because it’s a holiday. Anyway—”
This gave me pause. A holiday? Oh, yeah, right, it was Groundhog Day. Man, this Mexican family is still trying to work out what is a holiday here and what is not. Like on Columbus Day, they send their kid to our house in the morning because they think there is school. And on Groundhog Day, which is not much of a holiday and certainly not a day off, they figure there must be no work, to try to understand why the carpool didn’t arrive. Well, at least they’re learning.
“So I told my mom that it was your fault about yesterday.”
“What??” I reacted. “You told her what? That it was my fault? That is not true, Irazu. That was your choice to stay in our yard yesterday.” I walked over to her, pointing. Classic white lady look about me, I am sure, the single pointing finger, defensive. “It is your responsibility to go and ask if you can stay here, not mine.”
It occured to me that I do not really understand the implications of the phrase lo siento. Did it, after all, mean something like mea culpa? I had no clue. But I was not going to take the blame for keeping Irazu hostage after school, or something, especially when I was not in a position to explain the nuances to the parents—seeing as how we don’t speak the same language. While we’re relying on Irazu for translation—and she’s seven years old—we’d better get these details right.
“Tell your mom what I said,” I added, and noticed that she was sort of grinning at me the whole time, in a devious way that I rather did not like, as if to say, ha, ha, white lady, I got you, because you do not habla español! I tried to shake the thought. Paranoia, anyone?