Fireworks on the 4th

Happy 4th!

Today is a distinctly American holiday---one of my very favorites.  I practically bleed red, white and blue, so you can bet that the stars and stripes are out in full force at my place. 

Even with a pool party, picnic and fireworks on tap, I can't help but be reminded of my Liberian boys and, an ocean away, the Liberian flag that flies over their orphanage.   

I see the Liberian 

lone star everywhere in decorations I've had 15 years or more.  I could swear Uncle Sam is even holding a Liberian flag.

If you haven't read the "Meant to Be" post in the sidebar on the left, I hope you will.   

The story behind that quilt and what it represents to our family just might give you goose bumps.   

It does me.

Diagnosis: OLD

Basically, that's what my new optometrist, who can't be more than.....oh.... 22....told me after my eye exam this morning.   In her most chipper voice, she told me my vision problems were nothing to worry about, just a part of the normal aging process.   (Oh, thanks, doctor.  I feel so much better. )  

It was at this point, I could have sworn I caught her examining my crows feet and sizing up my age spots with the magnifying glass when she was supposed to be evaluating my retinas.

At any rate, as our visit went on, Dr. Chipper explained that I probably could get away with dime store reading glasses and  wouldn't need bi-focals for another few years....until I'm a little closer to 50.  (She had definitely gotten a good look at my age spots.)

Then....as she waited for my eyes to dilate---and with the sensitivity of a rock---she blathered on and on about my mature eyes, incidental sun exposure and my potential risk of developing glaucoma and cataracts. 

Surely, I thought, my eyesight isn't my only sense that's in decline.   My hearing must be failing me, too.   Was this recent grad of The Doogie Howser School of Optometry actually talking to (forever young and hip)  ME??

My brain fritzed ever-so-briefly and....just for a tiny, little, un-Christ-like nano-second....I saw myself jumping up from the vinyl-clad exam chair, whipping off my disposable sunglasses  and soundly decking her (and her youthful skin and sharp, clear eyes) right then and there.  

Oh......if only I had been able to see her well enough to take good aim.....

The Boys of Summer

Babe is catching for Southwest Forsyth's 12-year old All-Star team this summer. They scored a whopping 29 runs over the weekend to win the first two games of the district tournament.    Play resumes Friday night v. Winston-Salem Nationals.

What was I thinking??

Maybe it's a result of all the time I spend staring at this computer screen trying to conjure up something blog-worthy to write about, I'm not sure, but clearly I must be operating under some sort of diminished brain function.

I have to be.   I just put my 13-year old son, Will, on a plane to a music camp in Vermont.   

Yes, Vermont!    I know it's 900 miles away----not that I could readily identify it on the US map, what with me being very southern and it being above the Mason-Dixon line and all, but I'm trusting Mapquest on this detail.   It's far away.

He's flying all by himself.    Him and his new wallet and super-official state picture id....and all those hand held electronics he just couldn't live without (and can never afford to replace if he leaves them all in the seatback pocket in front of him).   

And you don't even know the worst of it yet.   Brace yourself.    He'll be gone an.......an.........entire month.  (I was whispering that last part...it's just too outrageous for me to say outloud in cyberspace where all you responsible parents are hanging out to hear me.)   

I have really gone and done it this time..... 

Four whole weeks without seeing that beautiful boy???   I'm done for.

No amount of communication via the aforementioned handheld electronic devices will ever be enough.   I'm sure of it.

(Sniff. Sniff.)

Anybody wanna go to Vermont??

No such thing as luck

The doctor who did Brant's surgery today told me afterwards that he thought Brant was a very lucky guy.

You see, the wrist tendon that Brant severed is one of two that allow the wrist to flex up and down---important for teenage boys who play guitar.   And baseball.  The tendon also covers the biggest nerve that runs down the arm and controls feeling to most parts of the hand and fingers.   And that nerve covers the major artery that supplies blood to the hand.

The doctor said that had the glass gone just a fraction deeper, Brant would have been permanently disabled, assuming he survived the blood loss, of course.

I wasn't bold enough to say it to the fancy-pants surgeon---evangelical dim-witted-ness comes with 6-hour stints in hospital waiting rooms I can now attest----but I know that luck had absolutely nothing to do with the outcome of Brant's accident and subsequent surgery.   God, in his sovereignty, had every thing to do with it.

Not for the squeamish...

Just as the summer haze has settled here on my blog, dust was starting to collect and readership was dropping to all-time lows, Brant and a garage door window pane have stepped up to provide some exciting blog-worthy fodder with that can't-help-but-look photo to boot.

Drew and I were over in Cary Sunday evening.....alone, holding hands, enjoying a perfect beverage and celebrating Flag Day with Elvis Costello---any excuse for an outdoor concert, I say----when, just 5 songs into the first set, do we get a frantic text from Will.

Generally speaking, FRANTIC usually finds me in person or over a landline telephone, but as I embrace new technologies, FRANTIC has proven it is completely capable of finding me via Verizon and it's world's largest and most reliable network. Will's urgent text went something like this:

"We R takin B 2 the hospital.

Call back ASAP.

HURRY. HURRY."

Those all-caps kind of messages are just the kind that make a mother's heart drop to her flip flops......and her mind race to figure out who "we" is and what scenario could have possibly played out to warrant a trip to the ER this time.

Since Brant doesn't have his license yet, I was fairly confident he wasn't in a car accident......so, what then??

Had he been hit by someone else driving another car? Not likely on our quiet cul-de-sac.

Could he have gotten knocked out playing football/basketball/wiffle ball/cops & robbers with friends? Maybe....but it was more likely that, with B's size, he'd be the one doing the knocking out......

Was there some sort of cooking accident? I couldn't envision how microwaving a Hot Pocket could end very badly....well....for Brant any way. (In 2005, Will once microwaved a Hot Pocket for 14 minutes, though I've gotten very good at suppressing that memory. PLUS, the text didn't mention a melting microwave interior or a smoky charred dinner brick of any sort.)

Had B been electrocuted by my hair dryer (which, BTW, I always really, really DO mean to remove from its precarious home near the sink where B brushes his teeth)??? Hmmmm.....THIS was a definite possibility.

Finally, whilst running to the parking lot, I got Will on the line and he gave me the gory details....

During an energetic game of wall ball with neighborhood buds, Brant had run full-speed into our garage door where broken glass from a window pane made a mess of his left forearm. Will was with an adult neighbor and the neighbor's friend---who just happened to be a nurse----on the way to our county hospital. Will used excited and graphic phrases like "cut wide open" and "to the bone" along with helpful adjectives like "gross" and "really bloody."

The nurse-friend (aka, "Complete Stranger") assured me that Brant was okay and conscious; he was likely in shock, but alert. She says Brant will get good care where they're going, but no one will be able to handle this injury in the ER and he'll probably be admitted for surgery.

What????? I immediately called my friend Kris to go be with Brant. I could count on her to take charge of the situation, assess things and hold Brant's (other) hand until I could get there.

By the time Drew and I winged in on 2 wheels around 10 o'clock, every body involved had determined that, in deed, no doctor there or on call was the right one for the job. Hands are tricky, apparently and no one wants to touch them if they don't have to.

So.......after a quick interlude precipitated only by my embarrassing, woozy swooning and cold sweats.....the attending doc stitched up Brant as best he could and sent us home. A hand specialist will do the official honors on Wednesday.

Rangers Win Little League Championship!

Yahoo!  Babe's Little League team racked up both the Majors' regular season and tournament championships this week.   The Rangers worked hard all spring, were great sports, encouraged each other and in the end, proved they deserved to win it all.   

And, if you ask me, the coaching wasn't half-bad either.

A very, happy Mother's Day

They're Not Booing.....they're yelling Bruuuuuuce.

I spent the night with Bruce Springsteen.   And 10,000 other people at the Greensboro Coliseum. 

It was so great.  So, SO great.   

Picture Bruce, on center stage, looking awesome, wearing all black.  (Silly, inconsequential wife, Patty, at home, banged up after a fall from a horse.) And sure, Bruce was talking some whack liberal politics, but hey---I'm able to ignore all that.....because he's playing all OUR songs....just for me.    Me....on the 89th row.....in my khaki mom capris.  

I plotted all week about how I could run off with him afterwards....just chuck it all and live on the road.   Hang with the band.  I admit it.  I can't help it.   After all....we'd shared so much at Fan Camp.     

I'd even warned friends beforehand that if I was AWOL for a few days....they shouldn't worry. I'd be in touch from New Jersey as soon as possible with my new address-- for the country ham deliveries.

In the end, though....I couldn't face leaving my sweet Drew and my sweet little life here.

But still.....I do...just sometimes, for a little while....like to think about, dream about.....what it would have been like had Bruce pulled me up on stage all Courtney-Cox-Dancing-in-the-Dark-style....

   

Sigh.

Love those sweet faces...

One Shining Moment.....

NORTH CAROLINA  89
Michigan State 72

Mars and Venus parent

Never have Drew's and my parenting styles been so glaringly at odds than THIS past week.

Brant's girl, Ellie, has had a change of heart and though she says she loves B to death....she doesn't want to be in a relationship with him. Brant was caught off guard by this unexpected break up on Friday and so....it seemed time for me to amp up my game and jump in with all my best mothering know how.

I gave Brant plenty of opportunity to talk about how he was feeling. I tried to be sympathetic, but reassuring. I spent lots of time rubbing his back, giving him hugs and saying things like, "It's okay to be sad, Brant. It's completely normal to feel down. I know how much this hurts....you feel misled. You weren't expecting this. It all has nothing to do with you, I'm sure. You're the best. "

And just like June Cleaver would do, I served up B's favorite foods, let him shoot hoops for hours....told him that every thing would work out and that his heart would be okay after awhile.

Drew?  Drew gave it till Monday morning, then strode around the house in his boxers, singing at the TOP of his lungs, something that went like this:

"Go and get another one. Go and get another one.

There's a better one out there somewhere. 

So (dramatic flourishes here), JUST...GO....and get another one."

Ahh.....the male coping strategy in all its glory. 

Could men and women be ANY more different?

Look who we found...

The boys named him Bill. 

(Long story. Tell ya later.)

If, per chance, you need a sweet kitten named Bill, just say the word and he's yours.

Really.    The boys will adjust.

How DO you spell that???

Back in February, Will placed 4th in our school district spelling bee and so had the privilege of competing at the regional ACSI Spelling Bee down in Atlanta. After a ton of prepwork and hours of drilling by his freakily competitive mother (who has obviously never gotten over misspelling MARTYR in the Charlotte, NC Scribbs district bee of 1978), Will was humming along and on a roll....

That is, until the 7th round, when that pesky word describing "a person that specializes in aerodynamics" was called. I'm sure you all know an aerodynamicist....doesn't every one?

Oh well, Will, NO worries. Dad and I are completely proud of you, now that our palms have dried out, and lest you ever doubt it, just refer to that new Merriam-Webster's Dictionary we hooked you up with. Because at our house, nothing says loving like a big book of words.

Welcome home, Melyn!

Our friends, Beth and Terry, just got back from China with their sweet new daughter, Melyn. We joined the welcoming party at the airport for a neat night of celebration.

Beth and Terry felt led to adopt and accepted the referral for Melyn at almost the exact time Drew and I accepted Amos's and Kalee's referrals in December 2007. Beth and I have propped each other up over the last 15 months and to have someone close by who knows exactly how I feel about the waiting....and about all those questions that don't have answers, has been a complete comfort to me.

Fear can keep people from doing the things that they know are right and that God calls them to do. Life at a certain point can get really comfortable---helping the poor and the widowed and the orphaned is any thing but. I can't wait to see how God blesses Beth and Terry for getting past their fears and reaching out to love an abandoned little girl that will now come to know that God is her true father.

Just a couple more....

In these pictures you can see Amos and Kalee as they are each read a note from me and see snapshots of themselves, probably for the first time.

Jay complained at me about the cards I chose for them.  One sounded too mushy, one not mushy enough.

Yeah, well....Jaybird.....when Hallmark starts making cards for the sons you've never met, who are stranded in an orphanage 3000 miles away, surviving on boiled eggs and rice, I'll be the first in line to buy them.  I promise.

   

More great pix of the new boys!

Snow Day

Parenting is not for sissies.

I've always felt deep down  that hatred and prejudice are learned, not innate, traits  so it was important to me and to Drew that we do our best to raise color-blind kids, something I hope we've done a decent job of.     

Back before we started the adoption process, I could say with fair certainty that our boys could not fathom that a person could be judged solely by their skin color.   This was something that they had only read about---something that had happened in our country's past or something that might happen somewhere else to someone else's family members.

Since we've been in process, Drew and I have tried to anticipate and talk through situations that our family might face once Amos and Kalee are here.  I  want Brant, Will and Jay to be prepared for the questions we might get, the looks...the double takes.....the reactions....the lack of understanding....changes in relationships.

 

But as much as I want the boys to be ready---I hate to see another layer of their sweet, sweet innocence stripped away.   It is hard and painful and embarrassing for me to have to share with them what our society is really like----to say out loud that prejudice is alive and well....and not just somewhere else in the world, but alive and well and thriving all around us.

Our youngest boy, Jay, overheard a phone conversation Drew and I had earlier in the week. We are considering a local move to put us closer to school, church and Drew's office and one of the houses we are checking out is located directly across from one of the big country clubs in town.

I could tell Drew was getting a little excited just thinking about being able to walk to the golf course and tennis courts....and well, the boys and I have been known to become pool rats in the summer months.......so....the proximity makes this house very tempting.   As we talked about what membership to such a club might cost, Drew quietly mentioned that we'd need to ask around and check the club policies.   It's a possibility that blacks---or white parents of black children---might not be allowed, errr......invited to join.

I'll spare you my indignant rant, but Jay's went something like this:

"WHAT????" 

"In 2009??"

"Are you SERIOUS??"

"With a black President???"

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"   

Any thing I managed to stammer out couldn't even begin to explain to Jay why things are the way that they are.  In fact, every thing I said sounded completely ridiculous------Jay's disbelief and indignation were completely founded.  There's no explaining away ignorance.

But sitting in on his school's chapel service commemorating Black History Month today really cemented for me why Jay is feeling so confused.    Through the litany of poems and speeches and biographical sketches, it became clear that he's been taught and is being taught that racism and segregation are things of America's past history.   He'd already filed them in his 5th grade brain as "Done" and "Over" ----that is, until the country club membership came up.  Then myth collided with reality.

I wish I could keep Jay and his brothers innocent forever.  I do.  I wish I could shield them from injustice and unfairness.    I wish I could encourage Jay to believe every thing his teachers say and what the textbooks print in black and white.  I wish our world was the way he believed it was.

I will continue to pray that someday it might be.  I'll pray that God will change hearts and attitudes.   I'll encourage sweet, Baby Jay to pray with me.  And for now, I hope he will file racism and segregation away in the "To Change--Someday" part of his brain....

  

New pix

Usually I'm really happy and excited when I get to see a new picture of Amos and Kalee.  

This time though, I feel sad.  Sad and heartsick....

Unforgettable...

Brant had his first date tonight.

By his account, every thing was perfect.

By his brothers' accounts, Ellie looked like a movie star.

Drew is still accounting for the cost of the whole event....but when I look at the pictures, I think that whatever the amount, the smiles are sooooo completely worth it.

Gotta laugh to keep from crying....

Except for some books and toys that need to come out of the attic, Amos's and Kalee's room is ready for them.   I am super-pleased with the paint work my artist friend, Susan, did on their furniture and I love the way their bedding and slipcovers turned out, too.

As I was dusting and picking up a bit in there over the weekend, it became pretty obvious that Will was not impressed with the mattresses I chose.

"Ahhhhhh.....it'll be just like sleeping on the floor at the orphanage....."

 

Super Bowl Sunday

You might be all about the football.

You might be all about the commercials.

You might be all about the snacks.

Tonight, I am ALL about the half-time show.

I'm so completely devoted to Drew, don't get me wrong, BUT...should something happen to him in an incredibly sad and untimely way, or should he someday run off with one of his 137 Facebook girlies from high school with whom he's been reunited....then I'm packing everything up to become a Bruce Springsteen groupie.

Remind me to tell you about that Bruce Springsteen Fan Camp dream I had one time.