stay in Moscow?

Now the decision about staying in Moscow only one year:  I made that since my heart is being pulled every time I see a young kid out on the street.  Yesterday, there was a three-year-old talking a blue streak as he sat on the metro with a book in his hands.
 The book had large stickers in it that he needed to remove and then place somewhere else in the book.  I didn’t understand everything he was saying, but I was fascinated by the fact that he was talking, talking, talking to his mother sitting beside him while she was doing some kind of calculations with her phone and a sheet of paper.  He would place a sticker—usually poorly, but he didn’t seem to mind—and then need another.  She would glance up from her paper, reach over, remove the sticker, give it to him, and go right back to her figures without even one more thought, smile, or recognition that the boy was doing something.  I sat there and I could have cried if I had indulged my feelings—not because she was ignoring him, not because she seemed not to appreciate the fabulous young man beside her, but because I am not with my young men.
Yesterday, there was a different 3-year-old on the subway.  Even though it was at least 80 degrees on the train, the kid had on a snow suit, stocking hat, and gloves—comments on this fact are left for another time.  This kid was standing between his dad’s legs.  They were also chit chatting—with the boy looking up at his dad every now and then, looking for an answer or for confirmation, and every once in awhile, the father would plant a kiss on the kid’s head.  I wanted that to be one of my boys and me.  I wish we were in that stage of life again.
This morning, I ran from my house nearly to the location of one of the school buildings where I will be working on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I have held class there once so far.  On the way and part of the way back, I listened to an episode of This American Life.  It was one of the best I’ve heard.  http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/474/back-to-school  The gist of the show concerns research that kids who have a less stressful life are more apt to succeed.  I know that my boys have not had much stress, but even the bits that I know they have had stick me.  It goes all the way back to when we would feed Maxim at 10pm, put him in bed, turn off the light, and shut the door.  He would scream like a train coming for an emergency stop for 10 minutes while we just went on with life.  We didn’t want to raise a kid that expected coddling, or one who felt entitled to sympathy; I guess we wanted to teach him to put himself to sleep.
I’ve heard about experiments by some king a few centuries ago who wanted to see which was the first language.  He ordered that a bunch of kids be raised without contact from other people.  Their food was slid under the door and the caregivers spent the bare minimum to supply their daily needs.  The experiment didn’t work because the babies all died before they made any sounds.  We wanted a kid who could survive the experiments.  Joke.
Not until a relative asked us about our ‘routine’ for putting the kid to bed did we think there could be another way.  Oskar heard “My Own Granpaw” and “Oh, Lord It’s Hard To Be Humble” and “Fred (the dog)” every night for two years.  In his earlier years, I think I should have helped Maxim avoid more stress by giving him the answers to the first few of his math problems.  I should demonstrate how to do the first three or four…I am/was too worried about him developing a dependency complex.
Now, to the staying in Moscow for another year, or trying to find a job in Albania question: Maura says she will be there for at least one more year.  There are few English teaching jobs in Tirana—maybe I could cobble together a bunch of private teaching positions but it would be a pain, and not lucrative.  But such jobs in Moscow are falling off the trees like dead leaves in October.  Two years in Moscow would give me experience, make my Russian skills superb, and give me a good resume.  I might even be able to get a higher salary so I will be able to visit the boys more often.  I met a guy today who said he teaches in the morning and works as a journalist in the afternoon.  He gave me his boss’s number at Gazprom and told me to tell them that he recommends me.  He also said there might be jobs in my part of town.  So…I could work there in the morning and do my current job in the evening.  He also gets private teaching jobs that pay $75 for 90 minutes.
Yesterday, Oskar said he was ‘bad.’  “Why are you bad?”
“Because I want you here.”
Today, though, he was better.  He didn’t even look too bad yesterday; he may have been trying to push my buttons.  Maura says he is doing well.  When I call, I have to have them separate themselves because they play around so much while I am on the computer.