Bernardo has a single rule living with us.  All we have asked is that he call us and let us know if he is not going to come home.  He is usually very good about this.  When we hadn't seen him or heard from him in two days we began to worry.  So, Sunday night, I had the pleasure of calling around to the LAPD, the jails, and the hospitals in an attempt to find him.  There is an odd mix of feelings while making those calls--I'm glad he's not in any of those places, but if he's not there, where the heck is he.  He ended coming home a little after midnight on Sunday.  David told him to go to bed and that we'd talk the next day.  That never happened as we were met with another momentary crisis upon getting home at 9pm last night.   Mario, another 17 year old who I have guardianship of, was hit by a car while riding his bike and was in the hospital.  I'd already made two separate trips into L.A. that day so what was another.  Driving into the city I had a mix of emotions full of worry about Mario, ticked-offness at Bernardo, and a certain rising level of stress. 

Mario turned out to be okay.  Pretty badly banged up but nothing is broken.  David and I took him home last night gave him a bell and told Bernardo to wait on him hand and foot.   I was half serious, half joking.

We still haven't had the chance to sit down with Bernardo and discuss what happened or why he didn't call us.  Part of me thinks--good, he's finally regressing to being an irresponsible teenager, I'm glad he has that freedom, the other part of me thinks--you punk, do you realize what you put me through Sunday night as I had visions of you dead on some obscure street in Los Angeles.

Its funny to step back and view my life as an anonymous onlooker.  23 year old woman, married, with a house full of young Latino men. 

Life takes you down interesting paths.  This is never something I would have ever envisioned happening yet it has.  It is full of joy and difficulty but it is always very, very interesting.