Very Merry, Indeed

Ah yes, Christmas morning at our house. Most of the pictures are of the kids getting their "Santa" presents. We must have missed the big moment with Abby. She got a Nintendo DS. This was one of her three under the tree gifts--three presents because the Christ child only received three gifts and they sure do not need/deserve more than He got. Anyway I digress...Abby is holding a dress pattern and fabric for her to use with her new sewing machine (birthday present). All I've heard since her birthday is, "When can you teach me to sew, Mom?" So a good learner pattern was a must have for Christmas. Randy got a Fisher Price Barn. An absolute necessity for toddler hood, in my opinion. We had one, but I believe it was on the recall list. It lasted through the first four kids just fine, but one of the daycare kids (read hooligans) managed to find the flaw and completely destroyed it, so Santa had to bring us the new, improved model. For Marina we went with a mini-trampoline. Several of my parenting books on sensory integration/RAD/and prenatal drug exposure recommend small trampolines with handles. I didn't get why the handle was stressed until I watched her play on it. She can really put a lot of force behind her jumps with a handle for leverage. It should prove to be a great way for her to relieve anxiety, anger, aggression, etc. I thought at first that is was going to be a dud present. You can see that she doesn't look particularly thrilled in the picture. But after the others climbed on and showed her how to use it, she loved it. She is so put out with me today, because I've moved it to its storage spot in the shed. I suppose she thought it was going to stay in our kitchen? The two older boys followed a blood trail (cut up red styrofoam plate) from their stockings, out of the house and into the garage to find two beginner bows. Yes, I know, we're sick. But what can I say? This is Texas.

I have a few kids in care today, but I just got them down for a nap. Everyone had said they would probably just stay home with their kids, but then it started to rain. And I'm guessing they started to get a little stir crazy, because along about 10:00 a.m. three mommy's showed up at my door toting toddlers. Part of me (the professional) is fine with it because this is what I do, and I am being paid for it. But part of me (the fellow mommy side) wants to tell these women, "Look, you don't have to go to work today. You need to parent your children. Sunny days and rainy days. It can be done! Get a sheet, a chair, and a clothespin....sit down and play one of the dozens of new Christmas games with them....mix up some shaving cream and food coloring....The possibilities are endless. Buck up. YOU CAN DO THIS!" But I guess that would put me out of a job, right?

Rewards

Last night, the master's office celebrated there annual Xmas party. And yes, I have replaced "Christ" because--trust me--He would not want His name associated with it. But, every year, the boss buys some really nice gifts for a round of Chinese Presents at the close of the party. The master learned that for the last several years, the most sought after gift was a big screen t.v. We were hoping he would win it. Our 16 inch RCA my aunt gave us ten years ago when we were married, is on its last legs. Sometimes the on button works and sometimes it doesn't. We're not big t.v. people (we don't even have channels), but we all enjoy the occasional movie, and the kids would love the movie-theater feel of a big screen.
The original date for the party was Thursday. Then, they decided to move it to Wednesday. Um...we teach the children's group on Wednesday. But the party was supposed to be from 4:30 to 5:30. So, he could make it to the party, win the tube, and still make it on time. BUT at 5:00 he called on the cell. He was leaving the party. Everyone had started to hit the liqueur and the boss hadn't even brought out the gifts for the game. No new t.v. for us.
On the way to church, the master used it as a teachable moment for the kids. He told them about how he could have stayed and maybe won the new television or some other neat thing, but he had made a commitment to the church body, so he had to leave. They talked about how doing the right thing isn't always easy. Everyone agreed that a new t.v. would have been great. Then he said that when you've done the right thing, but it seems you don't have anything to show for it, just remember that God sees and knows and He will store up for you rewards.
He was finishing up his lecture as they arrived at the church building. No sooner had he come in the door than another church member made a bee-line for him. The first words out of her mouth: "Bro. _____, I have something at my house that is taking up too much space and I need to give it away. Would you like a big screen t.v.?"
No fooling. All the master could do was laugh. The kids' mouths dropped open. I think the lesson on rewards is LEARNED.

Truth Hurts Follow Up

I had a lot of response from the last post. Some in the form of phone calls and some in comments. Thank you all for your concern and encouragement. It is a difficult thing for both of us--but especially for Marina--and I am trying to handle it in the best way possible. You will be happy to know that she has not brought up our conversation again. Doesn't mean she won't. Could be next week, or next year, or next decade, but themes of abandonment/grief/adoption are issues we will need to approach and process for a lifetime. To answer some of the suggestions and insights:
Cari--I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that we often tell Marina God planned for her to be in our family. There have been times that well meaning, but misguided persons have asked, "How did you choose her?" or "Did you pick her?" To which we always say, "We didn't. God did." The difficulty with saying, "We were together in the mind of God," lies in the fact that a three year old child cannot grasp, "in the mind of God." Nor can any of us, come to think of it! Yes, it sounds nifty, but I'm afraid all that Marina would hear is, "We were together." It might make her feel better for the moment, but it is not true (our being physically together, which is certainly what she meant), and ultimately would not soothe her hurt. I've mentioned before that Marina adores Randy. She has always been a very loving big sister to him. However, in his infancy, Marina had moments when she absolutely loathed me. At times when I would nurse him, or tickle him, or stare lovingly into his eyes and coo at him, she would regard me with a degree of hatred and sorrow that I would never before have believed were possible of a two year old. Somehow, someway, buried in her heart, is the knowledge that those things were not done for her when she was a tiny baby. She knows. If/when it comes up again, I will assure her that God was watching over her during that time. That is a promise and cannot mislead her. He is father to the fatherless.
Mom, sisters, and non-bloggy friends--As painful as our conversation was last week, I am grateful that she is now beginning to express with words her confusion and sadness. At least she can begin to match up her heart ache with the truth. It is sad for her to know that she was alone. Hell, I cry every time I think about it, and I'm a grown person. Every baby should have a parent who bounces them in the seat, replaces their binky, tickles their feet and pats their back until they fall asleep. But wouldn't it be sadder still to think that your mommy had been there all along, but did not do those things for you? That she did them for all your brothers and sisters--and does them for every other baby that arrives on her doorstep--but not you?
Kim--I think you are right. Last week's comment confirmed a suspicion I had for some time. Marina can tell you that she is, "a-dop-ed," and that she was born in "Wussia." But 'adopted' is a meaningless adjective and 'Russia' is a place that we (Mommy, Daddy, and Marina) went to on a plane and had an extended vacation. It is just beginning to dawn on her that living in an orphanage means that you do not have a family. She is confused and frightened by this new idea--that is why she followed me into the kitchen and restated her assertion about my being with her.
I want to keep posting our adoption moments. Not because I get off on making you wonderful ladies cry, but because I need to emote and also for Marina. So that she can read a record of her journey one day. It helps to remember that Marina's story--unlike millions of others--has a happy ending even if there are some pages missing.

When the truth hurts

I am keeping a tiny baby here at Sunnyside Kids. She is only three months old and on the small side. Sweet. Like holding a loaf of bread. She has quickly become the daycare mascot, and we all dote on her. The last few days she has been unimpressed with the Randy's state of the art light-em up bubbling aquarium bouncy seat. It wasn't doing anything for her. Luckily a few months ago, I had rescued a bouncy seat from my neighbor and squirreled it away in the garage knowing I would soon be opening my own daycare. It was the old kind with no fancy toy rod or interactive screen. Just a seat. With a Disney Dalmatians print--so you know its got a few years on it. But it held her up at a better angle for watching the other kids, and she was delighted. The others gathered round as I gently bounced her and she smiled. I happen to keep the youngest child of the very same neighbor who gave me the bouncy seat, so I remarked, "Luke, this was the seat you played in when you were a baby."
Luke: I not a baby.
Me: No, you are a big boy now, but you were a little baby like this at one time.
Sunnyside Kid: And I was a baby!
Sunnyside Kid: And me!
Marina: And I was a baby, too!
Me: Yes, everyone starts life as a baby.
Marina: And you were with me.

I just let it go and didn't make a comment but replaced the the baby's binky and started to get lunch ready. Marina followed me into the kitchen.

Marina: And you were with me.

Clearly she was wanting some validation for her statement. Sigh. This is when the truth hurts.

Me: No, sweetheart. I wasn't with you. But Mommy came just as soon as she could.
Marina: angry NO! You were with me!
Me: No. When you were a tiny baby like _________, you were in the orphanage in Russia. The caregivers took care of you. Mommy and Daddy came when you were a little smaller than Randy. And we adopted you, and brought you to our home to be our little girl forever. Maybe they had a bouncy seat like that one in the orphanage.

Because not having something is a huge trauma trigger for her. We had a hard time over items for babies when Randy was born. As each new item was introduced, (baby tub, crib, pacifier, mobile, etc.), she would just dissolve into hysterics. We had to explain to her that it was for a baby, and why. We had to go over and over that she was not a baby and she did not need those things. She has better things--things for a big girl. But the grief was there in her eyes. We found that telling her that she had played/used that when she was a baby helped. Some of the things we know for sure because we had them for her in those first few months after she came home (like teethers and play yards). And some of the things we know she had in the orphanage (like a crib). And yes, for others we have said, "Maybe you played with one like that in the orphanage," even if we are quite sure that they did not have any such thing. I thought she may be having an issue with the baby obviously enjoying a baby seat that she could not. But I don't think that was all this time.
Because after a few moments she said again, quietly and with pleading in her voice, "And you were with me?" Of course, I could no longer trust my own voice, so I just shook my head 'no,' and hugged her. Afterwards, she went into the living room and sat down on the couch for a while, subdued. I heard her say, "Maybe in orf-nage, I have one." And then she went off to play. What I wouldn't give to be able to tell her, "Yes, I was with you every day." To be the keeper of her story from the beginning--with no pages missing.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Our trip up north was an overall success. No breakdowns (vehicular or mental) and no illness/accidents to report. Marina gave us one scare at a rest stop-- when the automatic toilets triggered her fight or flight reflex and she ran pell-mell out of the john and into the parking lot--but other than that, we were good. The extended family embraced us all with warm affection. And I am glad we went. Grandma kept saying with conviction, "It is so good to have you here," and I felt ashamed that we have not visited more often. The kids reveled in having cousins to the infinite power and the food was wonderful.

Here are some pics of the famous Grandma Z and the kids down (or is it up?)on the farm.

Happy Thanksgiving

It is almost midnight and I am waiting up for the master to come home from a frenzied evening of stocking vending machines. We are trying to get them stuffed full and in tip-top shape before leaving for Illinois.
That's right. We're headed to Illinois for Thanksgiving. We leave Tuesday night. No offense intended to any extended in-law relations who might be reading this blog, but I'm not looking forward to this trip. Do you realize it is stinking COLD in Illinois? We are still wearing shorts down here. My kids do not own coats. We have wind-breakers for the two days each year that temperatures drop below 50. The master is estimating the cost of fuel for our voyage in 'ye olde 15 passenger will run around $400. Yikes!
I keep telling myself, "It's for Grandma Z____. It's for Grandma Z_____." Grandma Z______ is an amazing woman. She raised 10 children, has untold number of grand and great grand children. And she never forgets a birthday! Every year, for every child a birthday card arrives right on time. Even one for me. The interloping spouse. K met her first as a toddler. Then on our last trip, the kids were five, three, and one, respectively. Yet, a week does not pass that the children do not make fond mention of her or wonder aloud when we will see her again. Marina is excited that she is finally going to behold the famous "Grandma Z_______."
The only question is: will seeing Grandma Z________ be enough to keep them pleasant for 14 hours of driving?

Digging In

Today we were supposed to send our first payment to the facilitator in Ukraine. We were going to wire it, and he sent very specific instructions with detailed information, account numbers, etc. that we took down to our bank. Unfortunately, we live in Podunk, USA. They don't send too many of them thar forin money teli-grams.
They thought that maybe they would need some routing numbers. Though he provided the swift account #'s. The master was like, "This man has done this thousands of times! I'm sure he has provided you with all the necessary information." But they wouldn't listen. Humbled, I had to e-mail the facilitator and tell him we failed in our very first mission.
Welcome back to the world of international adoption.
Then this afternoon our homestudy packet arrived. It is a large notebook. I thought I would be excited, but instead I felt a sense of dread as I flipped through the plethora of paperwork that has to be filled out, all the financial information that has to be tracked down and tallied, the medical exams, the copies...I closed the notebook and walked away. I looked around the dinner table and thought, "We are such a nice family. We are happy. Content. Comfortable. Now why did I want to change that? International adoption is such a hassle. So expensive. So draining."
Right now we would only be out $50 bucks. I don't think the church folks will even remember. Oh sure, a year from now, someone may make the off-handed remark, "Hey, weren't ya'll going to get another one?" But we could always drum up some church excuse like, "Well, we prayed some more about it and decided it wasn't what God had for us." Easy. I could just go in and delete a few drafts from the blog and that would be that.
Then tonight I read Tami's blog and she posted this video. **Grab some tissues before you click**
Ukraine here we come!

Moving along

Today is a big day in the adoption. I found out our home will pass as is. We are within income requirements. Tomorrow we will mail off the application for the homestudy. And our facilitator will e-mail the list of dossier documents. It seems like we are doing this all backwards--dossier BEFORE homestudy? But he is the one who has brought hundreds of orphans home. I've brought one. So I will do whatever he thinks is best.
He is planning to get our file on the list before the "big ones" come through (homestudy and INS). Even so, we will not travel before August. Which is fine with us. That is a good time frame. But we learned with Marina, "time frame" is an oxymoron in the international adoption world. There is no such animal. So we shall see...

First Kill

So I'm wondering if my son became a man on Saturday? He has slain a wild beast. My dad started taking K out to the lease as soon as he cleared diapers. And I potty train 'em early. At age five, he actually wounded a buck that they never recovered.

This was youth weekend, and Papa and the master had been totally pumping K up that this was THE year. I worried that he would be too nervous to shoot. K cannot bear to let anyone down. Sure enough, the master says that K was trembling. He watched the little doe for a good ten to fifteen minutes, while the master whispered encouragement. K kept saying, "I can't do it, Dad, I can't do it. I'm shaking too bad." The doe disappeared behind an oak. In desperation, the master appealed to K's sense of duty and said sternly, "Now Son, it is getting dark and this is your last chance to shoot. When she comes out from behind that tree, you put a bead on her and pull the trigger.....YOUR FAMILY NEEDS THIS DEER."

When she emerged a few moments later, K dropped her. When he called to announce the big news, I was at first puzzled and tickled by his closing remark, "And now, the family will have meat!" (As if we do not have a freezer full?!!)Later, as the master explained the scene in the stand, I realized how sweet it was. 'Providing for the family' gave him the extra bit of calm and courage he needed.

Of course, our horde will finish off the ground round from that little deer in two sittings, but he doesn't have to know that now, does he? And it sure will be some tender meat.

Fall Scene

I don't usually post alot of pictures all at once, but I just can't help myself tonight.

I got some really cute pictures of the kids this weekend. As you see, we are doing a StarWars theme. Isn't baby Yoda, too much??!! And no, I didn't make their costumes. We drove to PartyCity this year so that Mom could remain in Saneville.
Cooler temperatures finally arrived this week, and the Sunnyside gang and I stuffed a scarecrow. They named him Mr. Acorn. Afterwards, I gave rides around the backyard in the wheelbarrow. Marina is too funny! She was well bundled, but every time the wind would blow she would suck in her breath and then let out a low moan. And the girl that LOVES to be outside, kept saying, "Mommy, the wind not blow in the house." The good Lord knew what He was doing when He put that baby on a plane to Texas, 'cause no way would she have survived St. Petersburgh winters! She has on her 'cool girl' jeans and jack-o-lantern shirt in the other picture. I had just brushed her hair out from tight french braids, so she was sporting her mock-spiral-perm-do. I thinks she looks entirely too grown up, don't you?

Hard to Miss

We took the kids to the first fall festival of the season tonight (pictures forthcoming), and afterwards we went out for Mexican food. Not wanting to take the time for a complete wardrobe change, my kids went in their costumes.
My parents were with us and there was no available seating for a party of our size in the regular dining area, so the hostess asked if we didn't mind a table in the lounge. Don't you know the other patrons were overjoyed to see her seating five small children in the bar? I wasn't exactly thrilled with the arrangement myself, but it was getting late, and I didn't want us to have to wait.
We waited, anyway. Our food was taking forever to come out! My dad made a comment about how two other tables who came in after us had already been served, and then my mom said that she was starving, and I finished up with, "We must have been forgotten back here"
K looked around and said, "We're kids....in capes....in a bar. How could they have forgotten us?"
He has a point.

Scary

This is a great web resource I visit almost daily in my line of business. Take a look at the model in the add at the top of the web page. That is exactly what Marina will look like in 15 years or so. I'm petrified. Anyone know where I can buy a chastity belt?

The Die is Cast

I have a quirk that drives the master crazy. Whenever we are finishing a room, before we put away the supplies, I grab a brush and in some way, completely screw up the next room on our list to tackle. I look at it as a way of guaranteeing that we won't procrastinate. I grew up in a household where every home-improvement project was placed on the Thirteen Year Plan. Except now that my parents have lived in their home for well over twenty years, we may have to rethink that title. I guess the pendulum swung in the opposite direction for me, because I want it done yesterday. For some things, the pocket book demands that we wait, but we can almost always can afford paint, so brush in hand I grab the KILZ and go at it. The master calls it, "painting the doorways."
And he says I don't just do it with home remodel.
Yesterday we announced to the church that we were hoping to start our second adoption. We asked for them to pray. We don't have a homestudy. We haven't filed with INS. We still owe money on Marina's adoption. But I feel that October 14th marks the beginning of the journey to S_____ #6.

Social Worker's Visit (Past Tense)

Maggie was asking about times in our home life that we would not want our children's teachers/doctors/social workers to hear. It made me think of our homestudy visit for Marina. I started to post it as a comment, but decided it was in poor blogger form to leave so much in the comment panel.

Oooh, do I have a story for you! One that actually did go straight into the social worker's ears.
Preface: We spank. Always have. Always will (till the youngest one doesn't need it anymore). I know you are probably totally against that, but it works for us, and we do it in love. Our oldest (8) has not been spanked in almost a year.
Anywho--all of our kids have gone through a "spank the baby" stage. Around about three they start playing house and they feed their babies, and rock them and burp them, and take them to the zoo....etc. They do everything with them that they see us do. Well, just before we had our homestudy, Abby hit the "spank the baby" stage. For about a week, her baby dolls were constantly being caught doing something she had told them NOT to do. And she could be heard all through the house giving them spankings. Only my drama queen attended her disciplinary task with much more gusto than she had ever had performed on her own little hiney, AND instead of using the words WE used when spanking her, she preferred the verbiage reserved for the dogs when piddling on my carpet, "BAD, BAD, BABY!!!! You are a VERY BAD BABY"
The master and I did not know what to do! The social worker was coming at the end of the week! Of course, we had been completely open with the agency and social worker about our family practice of spankings, but Abby's whippings were horrific. Should we coach her? Should we not? Would she say to the SW, "Mommy and Daddy told me what to say." Would she "spank" a baby while the SW was there? We tried gently coaxing her during play, "Oh, no, the baby is not bad. Give sugars to the baby." "She is just a baby! She doesn't know any better." "Mommy did not give you spankings when you were a baby." To no avail! She was still beating the stuffing out of the dolls on Friday. Finally, we sat both the kids down and had a heart to heart with them. We told them that a lady was coming to visit with them the next day. She wanted to make sure that our home was a safe and happy place to be. We told Abby that if she kept spanking the dollies, the lady might think that Mommy and Daddy gave them spankings all of the time. And that wouldn't be right, would it? They both agreed. She might think we were not a good Mommy and Daddy and that it would not be a good idea if any more children became part of our family (we didn't mention that she might decide to take the three we already had!) "So, tomorrow, Abby, please do not give your dollies any spankings while the lady is here" Our speech seemed to work. They went back to playing and no dolls needed "discipline" for the rest of the day.
On Saturday, the SW arrived right on time. She visited with us for about and hour and commented often on how well the children behaved and amused themselves while we chatted. Then she asked if she could talk with the children privately. We knew this would be part of the visit (hence our panic at the dolly beatings). She went to where the children were playing quietly in the bedroom. Peeking around the corner, I saw that the children were reading. Good. Not a doll in sight. I listened with bated breath as the SW introduced herself.
Not a bit shy, my oldest piped up. "Hello! I'm K____ and this is my sister Abby, and we don't get beat very much!"

Blog Hi-jacking

My blog was temporarily hi-jacked today. They hacked into my template and pasted it all over with a frog advertising some website. You couldn't even read a word! I deleted big portions of my template and this was as close as I could get to normal. I lost my light blue background and could not get it back, but at least the obnoxious amphibian is gone. Scary that people can do that. Got no help from blogger either about how to fix the problem. Ugh!

Where We Are

Well I'm settling into the whole daycare director thing. This is going to work. Sunnyside Kids is off and running. I have a daily schedule with set circle time, where we concentrate on colors, rhymes, vocabulary, names, shapes, counting, calendar, etc.; a themed learning activity (we're on nursery rhymes at present); and of course, STORY TIME with the selected books keeping with our theme. I'm into themes. It is very time consuming, but a meaningful service to provide, and I love working with the children. "To love what you do and to feel that it matters, how can anything be more fun?" That is in quotes, because it is not original to me, but I can't remember who said it. Our rhyme today was "Hickory, Dickory, Dock." We made felt mice and using a dishwasher box disguised as a clock, we acted out the rhyme. We also worked on positional words. "Can you put the mouse in the clock?" "How about under the clock?" "Make the mouse run around the clock!" The kids LOVED it. They played in it all day. Then when the older kids came home from school, it was "AWESOME," "Mom, you know just what kids like," and "How come you never made a giant clock for us?" They all three got in it and recited the rhyme at least once--even the eight and a half year old. Though he tried to be cool about it, walking around the clock and mumbling the words under his breath. Then climbing in "to say hello to the little ones." Yeah, right, uh-huh. He can't fool me.
The sad truth of the matter is I'm a better mom now that I'm keeping other people's children. I'm the kind of mom I used to be when K and baby Abby were home alone with me. When I taught K to read at the ripe old age of three, and how to solve word problems, and write books, and calculate the volume of a cylinder. When I took Abby to Kindermusik class and we spent an hour every day listening, dancing and making music together. When there was 4 loads of laundry that had to be done in a week--not four in a day. When I ran the dishwasher once a day, not once every hour. And also, truthfully, back when I did not have blogs and high-speed internet access. You will be hearing from me much less frequently in the future, for sure.
Marina is in heaven. We've had her on a set schedule from the beginning. It is the only way she can function. Even when I was teaching full time, we had a private nanny that came to the house instead of daycare, all for the sake of maintaining Marina's schedule. But we've stepped up from predictable routine, to a precise, orthodox, down-to-the minute regiment. When you are orchestrating a day for five to six kids under the age of four, it just has to be that way. Marina is plum giddy about it. After breakfast we potty, then we wash our hands, then we have circle time, then we do our table time (themed activity), then we potty, wash hands, go outside....etc. She takes great delight in doing the same things at the same time in the same order, yet...I'm not sure it is a good thing for her. We were trying so hard to reverse her obsessive compulsive tendencies and I wonder if the daycare is a step back for her in that department. Like today, I caught her doing the pee-pee dance:
ME: "Marina, do you need to go potty?"
MARINA: reluctantly "Yes, ma'm"
ME: "Then why are you standing there? GO!"
MARINA: whimpering "But it is not time to go to the potty."
Now this is a kid who has been toileting %100 independently (no reminders, no set bathroom time, no putting her on the potty) for over a year now. She was standing there--in agony--about to urinate on herself, because she didn't want to go before it was "time."
In other respects, this home daycare business is wonderful for her--or perhaps I should say for me. She is surprising me in so many ways every day. I think I had my expectations set too low for her. I don't know how to say this without coming off as sounding like a class A mommy snob, and that is not my intention, but here it goes. When I consider Marina within the subset of our children alone and only see her move within that group from day to day, I am often discouraged. She doesn't speak as well as the others did at that age. She isn't able to relate concepts or predict outcomes. She doesn't obey as well. She is a much more anxious, worried child. She isn't able to regulate her emotions or communicate love--even when she desperately wants to. She often regresses to much earlier stages of development. She can become intensely jealous of her siblings and will often steal or destroy their prized possessions. These are all issues related to either her attachment problems or pre-natal drug exposure, or both.
But what I'm discovering is that Marina is completely normal! No, she is BETTER than normal--she is above average--maybe brilliant! She speaks far and away better with a wider vocabulary than the other children I have in care. She knows how to share, how to take turns, how to problem solve. Compared to her peers she is curious, eager to learn, coordinated, and attentive. And if my daycare kids were dogs--Marina would be Lassie. My child is polite, obedient, and helpful.
And who among them has her excuses for developmental gaps? Anyway, I feel so much better now, about where we are and more hopeful for the future.

Women 101

In yesterday's mad rush to make it to Sunday school on time, I assigned my oldest son, K, the task of finding socks for Randy. He found the socks in short order, cornered his brother in the bathroom, and made a valiant attempt to put them on his feet. Abby and I were in the bathroom primping at the time and we watched the wrestling match unfold.
K: If you would just be...still....wait a sec' would ya?...no, come back...give me back that sock....RANDY!!
Abby:interject long suffering sigh Would you like my assistance?

(And yes, my kids really do talk that way)

K:sounding doubtful Sure, if you think you can do any better.
Abby: plopping down and shodding Randy in all of two seconds There, that does it!
K: in astonishment How did you.....
Me: not wanting him to feel bad Well, Abby gets lots of practice dressing her baby dolls
Abby: as the angel of encouragement Don't worry Bubba, your wife will help you get your babies dressed. I don't think she will mind as long as you take out the diapers and help feed them, and you're real good at those things. As if to say that otherwise his inability to put socks on a toddler might seriously hamper his matrimony prospects.
K:thinking it over carefully You're probably right. Anyway, when it comes to having a wife, I'm still working on the basics....like remembering to put the toilette seat down.

Hey, even Don Juan had to start somewhere.

Surprise! It's a Hurricane!

Tuesday afternoon the weatherman said that there was a 30% chance of spotted showers and thunderstorms on Wednesday. This is our standard weather report. Wednesday morning there was a MONSOON. I waded through a foot of water to get to the post office. What is up with this? The weather report said that the rain was a result of a tropical depression that was just forming in the gulf. Wednesday afternoon the kid's school sent home a letter saying that class was canceled for Thursday because of the tropical storm. What tropical storm? Who said anything about a tropical storm? Wednesday night, the master woke me up, saying, "Babe, do you hear that wind? I just checked on-line and we are being hit by a hurricane. Come look at it! Wow! I'm going out to see." I roused long enough to grunt and think, "I hope he doesn't get hit with a cinder block." (In Rita, we had two cinder blocks in our back yard that were blown over the house and into the front yard). I've always wondered, and now I know, I can sleep through a hurricane.

Yesterday we woke up to a huge mess in the back yard. As the kids wandered into the living room and peered out, they exclaimed, "Mom! It looks like a hurricane has been here!" "It looks that way because there has been a hurricane." Now, for them, a hurricane is anathema ultima. Rita took their possessions, wrecked their home, and displaced their family for weeks. They still refer longingly to objects that were "lost in the hurricane." When we pass a house in disrepair, Ian always asks, "Did they have a hurricane here?" Whenever we have a storm, they cry, "Mom! It's not a hurricane is it?"

I told them gently that though there had been a hurricane, it was only a CAT 1 (they know all about levels of windstorms) and other than a big mess in the backyard and no electricity everything was fine. No, we will not have leave our house. No, the storm has already passed over, there won't be anymore Hurricane Humberto (I know better than to promise that there will not be another hurricane).

Working in electrical supply, the master was hard at work at the warehouse, and the kids and I hauled limbs all day at home. There were some that will have to wait for his chain-saw, but for the most part, it now looks less like a hurricane and more like a really bad storm came through. The kids are calling it the "little hurricane." An appellation they decided upon after concluding that there was no such thing as a "good hurricane." I agree. But I'm so thankful it was not a "bad hurricane."

One good thing that happened yesterday (besides the fact that my home and family were spared a second major disaster) was that we found a new piece of playground equipment. We drove over to the Market Basket for a loaf of bread, but our normal route had a tree across the road. On the detour, I spotted a little tikes fort set out on the curb. Upon closer inspection, I found that it was in no way damaged. I asked the guy smoking a cigarette (the cajuns in this area missed the Surgeon General's memo on the effects of tobacco use) on his front porch if he minded if we took it. He said "Go right ahead," and we loaded it up. Randy is ecstatic. It is just the right size for him.

Crocodile Smiles

For Ian's 5th birthday! I planned a last minute party--as in the day before--for Ian's birthday. This was the weekend closest to the date, which is today, but originally thought that we would not have it until next week because of the holiday. Then something came up for the the next week....and then the next....and finally I just said, "Phooey. If we don't celebrate the kid's birthday this week, it will be October before we get around to it." I decided this on Friday afternoon. I printed some homemade invitations up and rushed down to his school to pass them out as the last bell rang. We had the party on Saturday. I had planned a StarWars party at a Laser Tag place in the morning, and what we had was an Alligator Party at a Gator farm in the afternoon. But the birthday boy had a blast, and that is the important thing! He is my go-with-the-flow kid, so no worries about places or times for him. Several of his new school friends came and he LOVES the Gator Farm. They have several varieties of reptiles--crocodiles, and turtles in addition to alligators--and a very educational, hands-on presentation of the park. The highlight of the day was watching Gwendolyn, their new Nile crocodile, take a snap at a chicken leg. The pop of her jaws sounded like a gun shot. Seeing how fast that crocodile moved, it is hard to believe that Steve Irwin was killed by a sting ray.

It was a fevered few hours trying to pull off an impromptu 3-D alligator cake, but the result was so cute! The general idea I stole from a website but made a few adjustments. I used the Herbie cake pan from K's birthday, my bundt, muffin, and round cake pans, two big marshmallows, fruit slices candy, one rolled out tootsie roll, and lots and lots of green icing. Ian said that I am very 'creatable.'

Happy Birthday Ian!

The Best and Brightest

It has been the wettest summer I can remember in Southeast Texas--and I grew up here. We have a permanent bog in the backyard and all the neighbors do, too. Toward the end of July, the kid's babysitter brought them a large jar of tadpoles scooped from her puddle. Ian, or resident zoologist, was beside himself. We read our From Tadpole to Frog, and Toads and Frogs books, observed their habits, and kept adding fresh water to their habitat. It would appear that our jar had several different types of frogs, because one grew legs within two weeks and freed himself from the jar in a single bound. 'Jumpy' (as he was appropriately named) was re-captured and released into the wild.
Several nights ago, as we were making preparations for the state rep's follow up visit, the kids became convinced that they had spotted their beloved 'Jumpy' in the yard. I didn't bother to point out the statistical probability of such a reunion. I just smiled and said, "Oh, wow! And does he look well and happy?"
On a second trip out to the yard, I found them clustered around the dachshunds who were evidently toying with some small critter before the final kill. Ian called to me excitedly:
Ian: Mom, Mom! Sally and Gigi are after a frog! They're going to kill it I think! But don't worry, Mom, it is not Jumpy.
Me: Oh?
Ian: No Jumpy, is safe way on the other side of the yard!...He is hiding...He is a smart little jumper...'Cause we don't raise no dumb frogs!

That's right baby, only highly intelligent frogs found here.