The Crab Chronicles

Speed Sleeper

We have had a nice, relaxing Sunday. I didn't get everything done I wanted to do, but I got several things on my To Do list crossed off, like mulching the front flower beds.

We went to Home Depot late in the morning, then Michael needed a hair cut, and we just ran by a local place and got it cut. He hates it. Then again, he hates every hair cut, no matter who cuts it. I've never seen a boy so concerned about his hair.

We had lunch at Applebees. Mother was negative about it, but she got a beautiful shrimp salad, and told them to hold the lettuce, so essentially she got a bowl of chopped veggies, half a hard boiled egg, and some grilled shrimp on it. I know the kitchen must have been startled by the "no lettuce" directive. It upsets Mother's stomach.

The kids and I got some work done in the yard. We carefully watered everything. Then tonight when we were watching a movie, we got a good hard soaking rain. Oh well.

Lesleigh came over this afternoon and brought us some wonderful bread from the gourmet food place where she works, including rye and pumpernickel, my favorites. I talked her into going with me and the kids to the movies.

We all piled in my brother's big Toyota truck and headed to the movies to see Speed Racer. The kids and Les loved it. I was not too crazy about it. It was a cross between a cartoon and a real movie - hard to describe, but it was made by the Wachowski brothers, who made the Matrix movies.

A lot of it is cars racing around huge, enormously twisty and steep raceways in futuristic cities. I have a mild phobia about bridges, so the shots of the gravity-defying car stunts made me almost nauseous. I had to close my eyes. Then I dozed off. Yep, I slept through some of Speed Racer. Bad mom.

After the movie I needed to put gas in the truck - $63! Yikes. The back tire wouldn't take air, either, so I e-mailed bro about that. I don't know if he wants new tires or not. He probably won't get back to driving it regularly for a year or so...

I fixed Michael and me fried egg sandwiches for dinner. Mother and Alesia had sandwiches. We had a big lunch.

We are getting excited about our upcoming vacation to Myrtle Beach. We leave next Saturday. I am looking forward to getting there and perhaps having some time to relax every day.

Thoughts from a Soccer Mom

I thought that the last soccer game would be a time of great relief, because honey I NEVER wanted to be a “soccer mom,” but I have a confession to make: I will miss soccer.

I won’t miss the 8 a.m. Saturday games. My backside won’t miss the incredibly unforgiving bleachers. I won’t miss Michael’s pouting after a lost game.

Nope, but I will miss cheering on the boys. I will miss chatting with the other parents. I will miss Michael’s sheer exuberance at being able to play soccer at practice, on the game field – just to PLAY. He loves the game. His coach said he was Mr. Hustle.

I learned how to holler “Get a foot on it! Steal it! Good try!” etc.

I learned not to be an obnoxiously overprotective mama every time the ball hit Michael. The first time I saw it happen I had to resist the impulse to run out on the field and grab him and retreat. No WAY are you hitting my boy! My brain screamed. Around me, the daddies were saying “Shake it off!” and I learned to be stoic. Sometimes it’s necessary.

Every time Mike got hit or pushed to the ground he bounced up. Even when he got cleated and had a serious wound, he brushed it off. I don’t think he was being macho. I think he just wanted to keep playing the game.

Today’s game, the final one, was a phenomenon. The sun was shining, and there was a light breeze. It was perfect weather.

The Chiefs WON! They scored a goal. The other team scored a goal. The other team’s goal was ruled invalid on a technicality.

I had to chuckle when Luke make a brilliant kick, higher than a rockette, and his shoe flew off, into the air, in what seemed like super slo-mo. His mother, standing beside me, said drily, “Well, maybe that will teach him to tie his shoes better!”

I really laughed at Coach Paul, hollering from the sidelines as the boys got into place “OK Kostya, just STEAL the ball! Go on, you won’t go to jail, steal, yeah, just STEAL IT!”

One of the other moms looked at the goalie, right after he caught a good kick and prevented a goal, and said “That must be the hardest position! You have all that excitement [and she flapped her arms around, looking like a bird fixing to take off] and then nothing happens - it’s totally boring, most of the time!”

Steve, standing nearby, commented, “Yep, just like parenting!”

We took the boys to Dairy Queen after the game, to celebrate. Michael got ice cream, and got to spend time with the kids in a relaxed setting, like they were at my house a few weeks ago. Clearly, they had a good time.

Back at home, I took the team photo and framed it, and placed it just outside Michael’s room, which surprised Michael. “That’s your first ever soccer team. Be proud!” I told him. “I was SO proud of you, buddy!”

Right before dinner, Mike was standing in the kitchen and he held out his arms. “Hug, Mom?” I gave him a good hug – Michael is my little huggy bear, and has always been affectionate. No issue with bonding at all. Today he said “We’ve had a good day. I found my Captain Underpants book at the library. I won my soccer game. I got to play on your computer.”

Yes, it was a good day. I signed him up for soccer in the fall, at 9 this morning. I signed up Alesia, too. I just hope they get enough older girls to make a team. She loves the game, too.

Seeing Michael’s beaming face, and feeling his contented hug today, I can honestly say now - I am proud to be a soccer mom.

Sharing the Good News

I have two pieces of Good News.

I just spoke to Michael and he was too excited. He said he had FUN at school today. What a shock!

He won two ribbons in his school's Field Day competition! He was so proud. He and his friend Xavier won first place in the Egg Toss. They won 2nd place in the Tire Race. Don't ask me to explain the mechanics of those things - it's been 30+ years since I did a Field Day. So he has 2 ribbons. It is so nice because it gives him a sense of accomplishment. He can do some things as well or better than the kids with 4 limbs.

He said they also watched a movie at school. I asked him the name of the movie. "It was - I think - um - Shirley Temple!" he announced. I said something about a cute little girl singing and dancing and he interrupted me - "No, Shirley's Egg! The girl was a PEEG!" [pig] he insisted. Huh? I thought about it a moment. "Michael, you mean Charlotte's Web?"

"Yes!" LOL

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The second nice thing was that the downstairs furnace got fixed. We went with a regular guy named Earl, who was recommended by our accountant, Melvin. Earl replaced one thingamajig and told Mother that was the problem. He showed her the rusted part. The first company wanted to give us a new furnace, dig under the house and do new ductwork, etc. - for thousands of dollars. Mother told Earl about all their gloomy predictions.

Earl was disgusted. "They just didn't want to fix what was broken. Make a lot more money selling you a new furnace than just fixing the problem."

Earl is our new best friend.

The Sleeping Bag

There's not much to report. I have to write fast and FORCE MYSELF to stop writing in a minute and balance my checkbook, which is woefully unbalanced and it MUST be done. I'm going to wear my IPod while I do it, too - it will make the task less painful, I hope.

I ordered Michael a sleeping bag because he is going to camp in July and the information I got says he needs a sleeping bag. He had never seen or heard of one before. He was so excited to see how it worked. He insisted on sleeping in it last night. This morning he complained bitterly - "I was too HOT. The zipper kept unzipping!" blah blah blah. I should have "Buddy, when I was small we didn't have sleeping bags. We had scratchy old army blankets from the Korean War, and THOSE suckers were not fun!" I didn't think of that until just now, though...

Alesia's English project had a deadline of turning in photos last Monday, and she still had not done them as of yesterday. Last night, she comes in and tells me she told her teacher she would turn in the photos today. "What?" I yelped. "So we have to run around taking the photos now, and get them developed TONIGHT?!" Well, yes, I guess, she mumbled. Grrr...

The project is on Ethnography, as I think I mentioned the other day. I took photo of Alesia reading a Russian book, looking at her post placement reports, eating pilmeni, etc. We got them developed and some of them were pretty good. I wanted to use my digital camera but all the other kids were using disposable 35 mm's so I stuck to that. I am going to have to spend some time this weekend helping her complete it.

We had yet another talk about how she can do better in school next year. I am still concerned about it.

We started watching The Golden Compass last night. I remember when it was released in theatres recently that there was an outcry amongst religious conservatives that it's anti-Christian. I can see how one could make that argument, but my kids didn't view it that way. To them, it's an adventure. They didn't view The Chronicles of Narnia as pro-Christian, either. I find it irritating that grownups put their own spin on things and forget that kids come to movies without pre-conceived ideas or the sort of critical analysis that adults like to play around with. A story is a story - good guys, bad guys. That's it. They accept the story they are given.

When I was in grad school I was not too popular because I got very tired, very quickly, of all the over-analyzing of every story, poem, book and play I had to read. I grew to hate words like "textual" "allegory" and "fallacy." I was vocal about my disdain. I couldn't fathom how grownups could spend their lives obsessively studying any particular writer or work of literature. I'm a bit more forgiving now that I'm older, but I am still puzzled by a lot of the esoteric knowledge one must aquire in order to get a master's or Ph.D. What actual difference does it make in the world? How will any of it solve problems like pollution, economic recession, children who are starving? Good thing I'm not going back for any more degrees. LOL

Better go balance my checkbook. That's something nobody taught me. I figured it out on my own, after my father tried to teach me and finally realized I would have to figure out my own way. It's a faulty way, but it's my way, nonetheless. [cue Sinatra song here]

An Amazing Reunion Is Possible

I recently became acquainted with a lady named Kim Zomer, a fellow adoptive mom, who has an incredible and inspiring story to tell. See her story under Fundraiser for a Miraculous Chance to Adopt a Sibling - scroll waaaay down, looking at the right hand column, to Pages and click on the link.

Thanks!
Dee

What Might Have Been

I read about 6 blogs a day, and I am always awed and humbled by my fellow bloggers who are able to express their emotions in their blogs. It's hard for me to do. I am self-conscious. I get concerned sometimes that I am only writing about stuff that makes me anxious, like Alesia's school situation, or that I am just reporting "cute things the kids say and/or do."

So I am going to try and make this entry a bit different.

There's always a melancholy when I talk to fellow parents who don't have adopted kids, like the folks whose sons play on Mike's soccer team. They are all nice folks. It makes me sad and a bit jealous to think "wow, they have had their child since birth, they got to experience all the cute baby stuff, and I never had that." Sometimes I look at my children when they are sleeping, and they look so much younger and more innocent then, and I try to picture them as babies or toddlers. Sometimes when they are upset, I hold them like babies, because they still need that care.

Every night when I tuck Michael into bed, he wants me to stay there with him. I do stay for a few minutes, and we say prayers, and talk about the next day. I always kiss him and he doesn't want me to let go of him. I start my recitation, "Everything is fine. The alarm is on. Alesia is right next door. I am just down the hall. I will hear you if you need me. Listen to the music." I pull out of his clutches, hand him his teddy bear, and tell him he needs to be asleep when I come back. I go back 10-30 minutes later and he's always asleep.

Michael has made progress in battling his fears. He no longer sleeps with the light on. He sleeps in the faint glow of light that spills out from my door, down the hall. He goes to sleep to the sounds of me typing. I think he sleeps better that way.

Alesia still needs a lamp on, and Coco on the bed with her. After she falls asleep, Coco gets up and goes downstairs to spend the rest of the night with Mother. Coco is a good little companion to Alesia, and Alesia absolutely adores her, despite her fragility. Alesia cleans up poop and vomit without complaint, and bathes and grooms Coco. [Michael complains about cleanup duty but he loves to play with Coco.]

I have digressed, as usual. Sorry about that.

There's always something to suggest that you'll never be who you wanted to be. Your choice is to take it or keep on moving.
— Phylicia Rashad

I like this quote. For the first 40 years of my life, I had everything mapped out - husband, kids, writing at home, volunteer work. I knew the colors in the bedrooms and what kind of dog I wanted. For many years I lulled myself to sleep planning my wedding.

Then suddenly, one day I was 40 and Mr. Right was nowhere to be found. I had mended my broken heart so many times that it was very fragile, and I guarded it carefully.

I remember my spirits were very low when I went to lunch with my cousin and friend Steve on my birthday, July 4, 2002. I had failed to achieve any of my personal goals. I was not the person I wanted to be. I didn't like my job. I could never lose enough weight to be actually thin. I could never write the way I wanted to. I was tired of being alone all the time, and tired of trying to fill the hours when I wasn't at work. I felt like I was staring down a long road and there was nothing and nobody there with me to help me. It was a bleak birthday, despite his kindness.

When I was driving back to my condo that day, I said a prayer that was prophetic. I asked God for a miracle. I asked him to give me a family. I had never asked for a miracle before - too audacious. I knew it was going to take a miracle, though, to make me a mother. I couldn't see it ever happening. I don't think the word "adoption" ever entered my consciousness.

Six months later, I had a dream about my daughter, and the next day I met her. As the bus pulled away from the orphanage and I wiped the tears off my face, I asked God for another miracle - to figure out how to do an international adoption. I was clueless. I knew nobody who had adopted a child from Russia. I didn't even know if single women were able to adopt a child from Russia. It seemed such a daunting task - like planning a trip to the moon in a Volkswagon.

The rest of the story is recounted in my book about Alesia's adoption, which may never get published since I can't seem to find the time or resources to submit it anywhere. Maybe it was just important for me to write it, to try and get some perspective.

When I think about my life now, it is filled with so many challenges, but there's also a lot of contentment. I love my house, warts and all. I love seeing my flowers bloom, and tending my vegetables. I like having my mother around to talk to and share things with. I adore Coco, despite her issues. My job isn't perfect but it's not terrible or boring, either. I have so many blessings.

I see how much progress my kids have made, both personally and academically, and I am humbled by the miracles they represent. When I think of them in their orphanages, abused, neglected and forgotten if I had not stepped in, it makes me want to cry. They are SUCH wonderful children. They have enriched my life so much. I just wish I had rescued them sooner.

The other night when I was crying in front of Alesia and Michael, just from the stress of worrying about her not coming home from school, I said to them both, "You are my LIFE. You are EVERYTHING to me. I could not bear to lose you!" I wasn't being overly dramatic. I was telling them the truth.

As long as I have my faith in God, and my kids, nothing will ever really defeat me, not even sadness for what might have been.

Ethnography and Vampires

Things were rocking along pretty well late yesterday afternoon, and I get an e-mail from Alesia's English teacher saying she had failed to turn in part of a project - even after being reminded. The project is to take photos of people and things around our house that relate to her "ethnography" as a Russian-born person, and mount them in a presentation with captions. I called the teacher, Ms. Z, who has been really sweet to Alesia this year, and was irritated to learn more.

Alesia had mentioned to me on Monday evening that she had a disposable camera and was "supposed to take photos of Russian stuff," but when I asked her when it was due, what exactly is is, etc. she just shrugged and said "I dunno." I had replied "Find out, and I will help you with it."

I told Ms. Z on the phone we would have a little "come to Jesus" meeting about it. This is the second teacher who has contacted me in less than a week to tell me about a project Alesia didn't turn in. I called and fussed at Alesia over the phone. I then had to go pick up Mike at soccer practice - they had practice this week to prep for a "consolation game" on Saturday.

I kept my temper by remembering that Alesia isn't a bad kid. She's a good kid and wants to do well in school. She is utterly distracted by the other kids, particularly boys. She doesn't deliberately set out to be a bad kid. She is very tender-hearted and doesn't like to see me or her Granny upset because of her. She just is naive and doesn't think about consequences to her actions.

Also, her faulty memory means I have to explain things over and over.

We had a talk last night right before bed. I showed her a sheet I prepared which breaks down monthly expenses for a single person sharing an apartment. I also explained about minimum wage, and how without a degree of some kind those are the noly jobs she will be able to get after high school. I showed, mathematically, how someone making minimum wage cannot really support themselves decently. I then pointed out that if she doesn't get her grades up, she won't be able to go to college or technical school, and she will have no choice but to work dead end minimum wage jobs. It was late and we were both tired, but she seemed to understand. We've talked about it before, but I wanted her to see a visualization of it, to see the grim mathematical numbers. I also showed her a short article about the fact that U.S. census data shows college grads make twice what people with only high school diplomas earn.

I also pointed out that when she finished high school, if she doesn't go to college or technical school, but decides to live at home, she will still have to pay me rent. I cannot tell her it will be a free ride because then she will have no motivation. In Russia, it's common for grown kids to live at home until they marry, and sometimes after that. So this idea of being independent is still culturally new to her.

I reiterated [for the 100th time] that I want to help her study for tests and complete projects, but she has to be responsible and ask me for help. I just pray she really internalizes the lesson. I have a feeling that taking Biology in summer school is going to be much more difficult than she realizes, and it may be an important wake-up call.

Alesia promised me she would do better next year. I will remind her of that promise in a few months.

We also talked a little bit this morning about the fact that unlike most kids in her ESL class, Alesia speaks English at home and she's being raised as an American, by Americans. We don't do much about Russian culture other than occasionally eating pilmeni, displaying souvenirs, and speaking a little Russian now and then. So her "ethnography" is more about being adopted, and melding cultures.

She still doesn't always tell people she is adopted. She started wearing my college ring, and several people had asked her about it, wondering why her mother would've gone to the University of Georgia - then she had to say her mother is American and she's adopted. I am sort of ambivalent about her telling people - a lot of times it's probably just not relevant. However, I want her to feel comfortable about it, not embarrassed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alesia is intrigued with vampires at the moment. I ordered the movie Interview With the Vampire from Netflix and we started watching it last night. Michael was very excited when I told him the movie we would see. However, he gets the word "vampire" confused with "umpire." After I explained the difference he was still looking puzzled - at least about the "umpire" word. So I need to sit down with him and watch a Braves game and explain how baseball works. I should've done it before but there never seems to be time.

Watching the movie got him amped up. Several times, he exclaimed with great excitement "I want to be a WAMPIRE!" I reminded him the word starts with a "v" not a "w" and I teased him and said "No way! But you can be an UMPIRE!" FInally he got tired of that and said "How about an umpire that sucks people's blood?!" I had to laugh.

Finding My Daughter

I don't really have time to create a blog entry because I had to run around doing errands on my lunch hour. However, I can plagiarize myself and hit the main news as I wrote to my friend Brian:

[Alesia didn't come home on the bus yesterday, or call anyone, and I left work and went to her school, searching. Brian met me there, since he lives closer.] I was so irritated with Alesia when I found her. She said she had stayed to finish her project, then hung around to be with her friend [a boy] after he got out of a meeting. I asked her how she was planning to get home and she said "I don’t know." I asked her why she didn’t think to call Mother or me and let us know where she was and got the same response. She has a hard time understanding actions have consequences - plus, factor in teen hormones. I’m not sure about the situation with the boy, but I suspect he has been distracting her from her studies.

I told Alesia as soon as we got in the car "I know in the orphanage nobody cared where you were, but I care, very much! I want to know where you are, 24/7!" When my kids were with their birth moms, nobody cared where they were. They could run around the streets. The orphanages [Alesia’s anyway] let them run around wherever, and they just had to be back by 10 or 11 or they were locked out for the night. Alesia said she almost got locked out one night. Michael did most of his running around when he was with his mom, who stayed drunk so much she had no idea where he was – the orphanage took better care of him. Trying to get my kids to understand that in real families it matters where you are, is a challenge.

I was really angry at the school, but then when I got home I just started crying, and I had to cry for a while. I told Alesia I was close to calling the police, and I was envisioning her kidnapped, raped, dead, all sorts of horrors. She was taken aback to see my crying so hard – I rarely ever cry. I explained about being responsible, and letting people know where she is at all times, because we love her and we do not want anything bad to happen to her. I have told her this before, of course, but with FASD kids you have to explain things many times before they remember them.

At some point, I looked at Michael and said "You aren’t ever going to pull a stunt like this, I hope?" and he shook his head, "No M’am!!"

When Alesia and I got home, around 6, I made her apologize to Michael and Mother, for what she put them through. I told her to apologize to Brian, too.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

So that was the excitement and drama yesterday. My friends at work told me Alesia was just acting like any other teen, and she would pull something like this again, but I hope they are wrong. When I was a teen I only remember staying out past curfew one time, and that was lesson enough for me, because my mother really lit into me when I got home. Of course, I was a chubby, nerdy kid, and never had a boyfriend in high school, so the situation with Alesia is much different.

Movie Review and A Word from Afar

There is really not much to report since I last blogged. I was awakened at 3:18 this morning by an obnoxious phonecall from a drunk who didn't want to hang up. That didn't completely ruin my sleep but it didn't make for pleasant rest, either.

I wore the perfume the kids bought me this morning. I like it better once it fades a bit. Michael was so pleased I wore it, and the earrings he gave me. I hope to erase the olfactory negative tape I blogged about yesterday and replace it with more positive connotations, like the smile on Michael's face when he hugged me and smelled the scent.

I had fun writing up a review of Iron Man and it's here. I wish I had more time to ruminate on it, but it's the best I can do during a quick lunch break.

I got a nice newsy e-mail from my brother, and I will share it here. For security reasons he can't say exactly what he does, but at least this gives us some idea of his days:

Main thing I do day to day, is read reports and design presentations of that data.  It's actually harder to make something simple than to cut and paste something complex.  You have to keep the wheat and get rid of the chaff.  Once we get the general idea down, we then go through a series of reviews, most are good at helping clarify, some are merely changing small horses to big ponies or happy to glad.  Once we get through the reviews, one of our bosses shows it to someone higher and we move on to the next presentation. 

Every now and again we get to go places and do things that are sort of, if not fun, at least different.  So far, no one has shot at me and I haven't shot at anyone either.  Well, they have launched a few rockets, but me and the ground hogs, ants, moles and earthworms are getting to be on speaking terms.  If I get hit, it's going to be in my a.s.s for sticking up too far. :)  Anyway, one of the places we go is a former palace, so that's pretty neat.  Hopefully I'll get some good pics of it next time I go.  I'm still playing with the buttons.

We work some long hours - one as there's a lot of work and two, you might as well stay at the office as opposed to hanging out at the room.  Eaiser to check email and what not.  Now that I have the morale line figured out, I'll call more often.  Supposedly there's a way to call me, but I have not figured it out.

Got to run, I'll try to load some pics and see what happens.

Time Traveling

It has been a funny day, on several occasions.

We got up and headed to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, bright and early, about 10:30. Well, OK, brunch then. Cracker Barrel was chockfull of people dying to browse their gift shop and eat sawmill gravy. [Is it just me or does anyone else find the word sawmill unappetizing?!]

So we headed across the street to Denny’s, where we were seated immediately. Within 15 minutes we were stuffing ourselves with pancakes, omlettes, etc. I even let the kids drink hot tea – that’s a holiday by definition, in our house.

When we were browsing the huge menu, Michael said he wanted the Grand Slam breakfast. Mother hastily said ”No, no, honey, that’s a lot of food, why that’s enough for a great big 400 lb. Man!”

Alesia piped up, “Or for ME!”

Alesia, at 115 lbs., can eat the rest of us under the table. She must be channeling serf ancestors. I mean, she can put away some groceries. We had Honey Baked ham tonight and she got ½ the package and put it on her plate. Mother and I both chided her for eating so much. I don’t know if it’s an orphanage behavior, or a teenager behavior. She only recently started doing it. Maybe Michael’s presence provoked it, or maybe it has to do with the H Pylori. I don’t know.

After breakfast, I let the kids watch TV for a while. They were so grouchy when we told them to cut off the TV’s I said “OK, that’s it, no more TV the rest of the day.” Both kids were downcast. I reminded them that their foul moods were part of the reason I hate TV watching.

My friend Brian took the kids to buy my Mother’s Day gift last week, and they chose well – with help, I am sure. Michael gave me a beautiful pair of earrings that look like antiques. Alesi chose a perfume for me by Estee Lauder called Beyond Paradise. The problem was, out of all the perfumes in the world, I absolutely HATE that one. My last boyfriend bought me a lot of it, and I always wore it for him. So the scent just catapults me back in time 4 years, to that time with him, and of course all those bittersweet memories. The kids had no idea of that, of course. I whispered to Mother and told her and she whispered back and told me to get over it already.

She’s right. I need to get over it. It’s ancient history. I have zero interest in ever dating anyone else, though. Not because I’m carrying a torch, oh no – just because. I have zero interest in dating, and I once had that as the primary purpose of my life. I think this is a more sane way to live. I just don’t need perfume time traveling nightmares…

The kids and I went to see Iron Man this afternoon. Excellent movie. Very entertaining. If I have time I’m going to write up a review. When we were coming out, Alesia remarked, “That movie was really tight.”

I was sort of flummoxed. I thought I was up on all my TeenSpeak. Apparently not. She snuck a look at me and smiled a little when she saw the expression on my face. “Well I thought it was bitchin’” I said. “And no, you can’t say that.”

Alesia tossed her hair. “Whatever,” she shot back. That means, you are so hopelessly lame, mom…

The wind was fierce when we got out of the movie. I mean, it was like gale force winds. If the sky hadn’t been clear blue I would have been frightened of tornadoes. I half expected to see a farmhouse fly by, and maybe a witch on a broomstick, shrieking with laughter.

When we got home, Mother told me that Bruce had managed to call from Baghdad. It must’ve been late at night when he called, around 3 p.m. our time. He told Mother he had had to wait several hours to get a call through, as all the guys were calling their mothers. Mom got very emotional on the phone and said she started to cry, so she hung up, hoping Bruce hadn’t heard it in her voice. I know she hates him being so far away.

The kids were pink-cheeked all day from the pool, despite the careful application of sunscreen yesterday. I forbade a visit today. I want them to love the pool, but I think two days in a row is a bit much, at first. They need to brown up a bit.

Back to work tomorrow. Two more weeks until vacation.

NOTE: I know everyone is probably tired of the ever-changing blog banner, but I have resigned myself to not being able to come up with something unique. I will stick with this one for the foreseeable future.