Daycare parents finicky about food; visa bid progressing

The parents of our daycare kids are real finicky about what we feed their children.  Too finicky, in my opinion, but it's really none of my business. I'm just an observer to stuff like that. The parents don't want their kids eating cheese or snacks. They're the customer and Phuong is the boss, so I do what I'm told. But before I was told, the kids gathered around me like I was Jesus giving a sermon on the mount when I had cheese and potato chips for a snack one afternoon. I didn't do this daily, but it was kind of a once or twice a week treat for the kids. I still give the toxic treats to Joanna, and I'll sneak her some chocolate as well. I've read that cheese can cause constipation, so I'll limit the portions and frequency for Joanna. The parents haven't complained about peanut butter yet, but they're probably not too familiar with it. I put a big tablespoon of peanut butter on a plate with apples in the morning (no more small pieces of cheese), along with cinnamon-sugar toast with butter, and honey oats cereal. The parents often get the kids some kind of noodle soup, such as Pho, Hu Tieu, even Bun Bo Hue (without blood pudding) for breakfast. Then there's rice and noodles with chicken or some pork for lunch. I have no idea what they have for dinner, but I'm almost certain that rice and/or noodles are on the menu. Again, none of my business. I mention some of this because our daughter was having some constipation issues and I demanded Phuong stop feeding her noodles and rice twice a day (and Phuong demanded I stopped giving Joanna so much cheese). I give Joanna a lunch of oatmeal with brown sugar and cinnamon and raisins, and sometimes fresh blueberries and jarred peaches. Since I started this about a month ago, all of Joanna's systems are "go" on a clockwork basis. Sorry to talk about poop so much, but that's what parents of little kids do. Or have to do, really.

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The daycare mom who had an issue with her liver is back home from the hospital, sans surgery, and on medication to treat her problem. I'll respect her privacy and provide no more details, but suffice it to say everyone is very pleased.

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Joanna and I are bonding even more these days, and now she knows the words to songs by The Beatles, Felix Pappalardi and Creation, and Youth Lagoon. We listen to this music and dance; it puts Joanna to sleep each day around 1:30 p.m. for about an hour. This little nap serves as a respite for me when I can take care of odds and ends like finishing my blog, putting away laundry, preparing for my two English students, and waxing my Civil  War figurine collection.  Well, laundry, blog, class prep. Daycare is exhausting work, especially for a 64-year-old White Monkey. And Phuong does the heavy lifting.

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We're putting the finishing touches on the DS-260 form and waiting for police records, which are both part of the formal application for Phuong to obtain a visa to come to the United States with her American husband (me) and American daughter (that would be Joanna). If she is rejected, I may drag Phuong and Joanna to Peru, where hopefully I could teach and dominate Phuong in tennis on clay courts. And that's a wonderful segue to my final bit of news: Despite some pain in my left foot from the plantar fascia injury, which has led to pain in my back that is wreaking havoc with my serve, I have courageously fought my way back to the No. 1 family tennis ranking over my sore-shouldered wife. Phuong and I suspect her shoulder is sore from constantly holding and carrying Joanna -- who's pretty heavy for a near-three-year-old -- rather than tennis. Even with my minor physical issues,  I have learned to trust the process.

Daycare mom in hospital; motorbike moron swerves around Joanna; coffee shop accuses me of not paying

The mom of two little girls in our daycare group has been admitted to a hospital in Ho Chi Minh City with an abscess in her liver. We don't have any information on the source or cause of the abscess, but doctors are considering surgery to remove the part of the liver that's been affected, according to the mom.  The mom, who is very bright, is also one of my English students. Obviously, we're quite upset by the news. The mom complained of stomach pain on Friday, and the pain became so severe that she went to the hospital. Tests revealed the abscess. This woman is only 31 years old and her mom passed away recently. I'm a proponent of second and third opinions from other doctors, especially when surgery is being strongly considered. I hope the situation can be handled with medicine rather than any kind of invasive procedure.

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Our daycare kids circle me like buzzards when I try to eat something that they might also like. For example, my frozen chocolate milk in the morning is now a sensation with the kids. So is my frozen yogurt. I guess it's just as well since mooching kids keep me from getting as big as a house with all the food that I eat. But when it's the last yogurt, or last cookie or cupcake, well ... kids rule in our house so guess who gets the goods.

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We walked to the park with our nine daycare kids last week, and Phuong bought this bungee cord type of thing with plastic rings that the children hold; it's designed to help keep the children together and walking in a straight line, more or less. Joanna let go of her ring and wandered into the street. Of course. some typical Bien Hoa lowlife roared up on his scooter at that moment and refused to slow down with Joanna in the street, instead dangerously swerving around her. I yelled at the classy individual to slow down, and he glared at me like he wanted to fight. This happens quite a bit here. Joanna must have sensed my anger and willingness to engage the quality human on the motorbike because she launched into a string of profanities that would have turned a sailor's ears red. I really have to be more careful of my language around her. Besides, I shouldn't get so upset at the scumbags on bikes here. But when they threaten my daughter ....
Most locals ignore the clowns although I've seen a few take exception. They're my heroes.

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At the coffee shop I've been going to for the past six months or so, Nguyen Xuan Truong Coffee, I was accused of trying to leave without paying. In fact, I was outside headed home with headphones on when a waiter came running after me and grabbed my arm, hopefully because I didn't hear him call to me. He communicated that I didn't pay.  Actually, I paid a different waiter as soon as he delivered my coffee (pay as you go and you never owe) and gave him an 8,000 dong tip -- I used to give 10,000 until they raised their prices. Anyway, I went back inside with my accuser, found the other waiter who unenthusiastically and unapologetically agreed that I had paid. I was pissed and told the clown that chased me outside that I don't need to steal a 42,000-dong, watered-down, lukewarm, mediocre-at-best cappuccino and that I had enough money to buy this dump of a coffee shop. That's probably not true, but like I said, I was pissed. Besides, I've been told that foreigners can't own property in Vietnam. Coffee shops are off my list of places to go since most don't understand me when I try to order a cup of coffee, or they think I'm a thief, or the other customers try to cut in line and then stare at me like I'm some kind of White Monkey.