The Crab Chronicles

Quick Hello

I have to devote most of my lunch hour to paying bills - ack! but I wanted to post something here. Sorry about the typesize issues; can't get them fixed..

Mother got so tickled yesterday. She asked Michael if he was looking forward to school getting out [May 23^rd is their last day] and he said “Yes, you know why?” Mother said no, wondering what he would come up with – Michael replied “Because then you will make me bacon EVERY DAY!”  J

I told this to a buddy here at work and she got a look of horror on her face when I explained that Mother eats bacon and eggs every day. Then I had to explain that she has never had high cholesterol.

I should have also mentioned that I have absolutely no ability to influence my mother's food choices. I don't care if my kids eat bacon all summer. It will make them strong, so they can do all the chores around the house I need done. LOL

Right now Michael is in an Eggo frozen waffle phase and that’s what he eats every day, 2 waffles and a glass of milk. Well, this morning he ate two fried eggs because it’s quicker than waffles. Alesia gets up, gobbles down a bowl of cereal in 2 minutes before anyone else gets to the kitchen, then goes back upstairs to dress and primp for 30-45 minutes.

READ THIS

Every great while, I read an interview and I find it both amusing and informative - but not often. I have long admired Robert Downey Jr. as an actor, even while being appalled at his run-ins with the law and drug addictions. Now he is starring in a new movie as Iron Man - an action hero. Never though I'd see that. Anyway, here's the LA Times interview, hopefully.

War Stories

After all the poetic musings about my garden yesterday, I got home and went out there to plant my extra little plants, and made a funny discovery. Instead of the watermelon I had wanted, I grabbed the wrong little pot and came home with an okra plant! I will have to get another one or two in order to get enough okra to matter, plus I really do want another watermelon. I told Michael about this.

"I can't believe I got OKRA! I don't even like okra!" I ranted.

"You know, Mom, I am just not really interested in gardening stuff."

"Really? Well, are you interested in EATING watermelons?" I replied, with remarkable restraint, I thought. He pondered the statement.

"Well, yeah, duh." He and Alesia love watermelons. He loves spraying for bugs. He loves eating radishes and tomatoes right there, fresh from the ground. There's hope yet.

Mike didn't feel well yesterday, sniffing a lot. Today he got up complaining about his throat. It looked a bit pink. I sent him to school anyway, since he wasn't feverish and has the CRCT test. I e-mailed his soccer coach to say Mike likely won't make it to practice this afternoon and he said not to worry about it - Mike shouldn't be running around in the pollen anyway, and his only speed is "hustle." I laughed when I read that. The words "take it easy" are meaningless for Mike when it comes to soccer.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Michael and Mother had a "serious" discussion not long ago about a little boy Mike's age that we've spent some time with recently. The child makes a lot of thoughtless, snotty remarks, and Michael doesn't like being around him. I don't, either, which is a shame because I like the parents. Mother said to Michael, "Why do you think he acts that way?" Without hesitation, Michael said "Well it's because he doesn't have a Granny, of course!" Like duh, nobody teaches him manners. We have laughed about that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mother has had a lot of computer issues lately, and had to suffer through a lot of pop-ups that caused her system to halt. There's a technician working on it today. However, we have both been thrilled to see that Alesia has been able to help alleviate most of the issues. She is very good at math, and at problem solving. She loves puzzles. These are her strengths, intellectually. I guess this is the Lord's way of reminding me, she has promise, she can function on her own someday, I feel sure.

MEMORIES

One reason I like reading The Pioneer Woman website, is because she is so funny. She tells stories about embarrassing things that have happened to her. She has a huge readership, too. I only usually tell the embarrassing stories on myself to close friends. She has guts. LOL

Years ago, when I was working at my first paralegal job, in Knoxville, to get to the bathroom I had to walk down a long hallway, lined with lawyers' offices. I used the bathroom and washed my hands. I was busy and I was in a hurry. I walked briskly back to the office I shared with another paralegal. As soon as I walked in, she shrieked "Dee! OMG! Your dress!" I had pulled up my pantyhose and accidentally stuffed the entire back hem of the dress down into the pantyhose. SO my big ol' lumpy butt was on display.  It must've been summer because I didn't feel cold on that long walk down the hall of offices.

Horrified, I pulled my dress out of my pantyhose and walked BACK down the hallway, peering into each attorney's office to see if he was in there. Fortunately, most of them were out at lunch. Maybe one was sitting at his desk. I asked him if he had seen me go down the hall a minute before and he said "No. Why?" Well I sure wasn't going to explain. I'm sure my face was bright red, though.

Now, I never wear pantyhose. I don't know anyone around here who wears it regularly. The whole office environment has changed so much since I started working in 1985. Fun facts:

When I had been working about a year, my office actually got a FAX machine! Wow! We had to fill out a form and ask the office manager to send the fax. Nobody but her could touch the machine.

I thought the fact that the enormous copier could COLLATE was incredibly cool. I had never used anything but crappy library copiers at school.

I never got my own computer at my desk until I moved to Atlanta to work in 1993. Before that, I used either a typewriter or an old CRT terminal.

I never wore pants to work until a few years ago. I would wear pretty, casual skirts and dresses, but not pants. I never could find dress pants that fit me well. [I am too big for petite sizes and too small for regulars - in a hellish place between them.] I am too cheap to pay for tailoring.

I had never seen a scanned document on the computer until about 10 years ago. If someone had told me when I started working that 98% of everything I did would be done electronically, and I would use a computer all day, I would have laughed.

I never used a computer until about 1990. I didn't own one. In college, I used an electric typewriter.

I have never filed a pleading [a formal court document] with a court electronically, which is very common today. When I stopped working at a law firm in 2001, I either gave pleadings to a  courier or I got in the car, went to the courthouse, and filed them myself. I have driven all over East Tennessee and North Georgia filing lawsuits and pleadings.

I was up in Marietta trying to get in a courthouse years ago and they put my purse through the scanner, like the ones at airports. A huge, beefy, female security guard barked at me "You have an unidentified object in your purse! Step out of line! Open the purse!" I was suddenly scared to death. I stepped out of line, shaking. She handed me my purse while simultaneously pointing at the monitor. I peered at the blob she was pointing too. I reached slowly into my purse and pulled out -

a compact. A small, square compact with powder in it. The guard looked at it with great suspicion. "It's a COMPACT," I said, opening it and showing her the powder. I made a gesture like powdering my nose. There were snickers heard throughout the crowd of onlookers. "Go on through!" she barked.

After I was able to relax and chuckle over the whole silly thing, I thought seriously of getting the guard a gift certificate for a makeover at the Macy's cosmetics counter, or something similar. The poor dear looked like she needed personal grooming help in a bad way.

Later, I thought how funny it would have been if I'd pulled out the compact and waved it around, chuckling evilly, and said "It's the Max Factor bomb! You're all getting powdered!!" But of course, Ms. Beefy probably would've shot me...

I have a million "war stories." I will share them from time to time, when it's a slow news day here at the Crab Chronicles...

[NOTE: I finally had a minute to write up a review of The Forbidden Kingdom - check out Scribblerchick's Movie Dish for it!]

Garden Thoughts

I bought Michael a workbook yesterday to help him work on his multiplication tables, with lots of colorful illustrations. He sat down before dinner last night and started working on it without me prompting him. I’ve already told him that by the end of the summer he will know ALL his multiplication tables, plus Mother is going to work on his reading. I have high hopes he can move on from the Captain Underpants books soon. LOL

I think we can use this summer to tutor him and see how he manages that, and then maybe next summer we can tutor him enough to get him ready to skip fifth grade. I really want him in school with kids closer to his age. 

^{I have decided this summer is probably too soon to do that sort of intense tutoring.}

We’ve had a lot of rain the past few days, and it’s real soggy outside, but lord knows we needed it.

I went to Home Depot at lunch just to get light bulbs, and I couldn't resist moseying over to the gardening department. I was able to get several useful gardening items and yes, MORE vegetables. I am going to have my little garden plot so overgrown in a few months we'll have to hack our way in with machetes to get to the plants. I even broke down and bought some yellow squash, despite the fiascos of the last few years. I may be 50 before I have a successful squash harvest but I will keep trying. I bought another watermelon plant, too, one with a yellow interior. I hope we get at least one melon - I want to see the kids' faces when we chop it open and they see the yellow insides!

I can remember as a child wondering why, why WHY would my mother spend so much time in her garden? What could possibly be the attraction? Now, I am the same way. I love making things grow. Tiny sprouts shooting up from worm infested soil makes me happy. Unlike my friend Cindy I HATE pulling weeds, but I enjoy all other aspects of gardening. It's oddly soothling, a gentle activity - at least on the scale I do it. Nothing tickled me more last summer than seeing how excited my children were to find a squash blossom or a tiny tomato, or to pull a radish out of the ground, wash it off and happily chomp down on it. If I had the time and money I would plant more.

In a few years time, if you drive by my house, you will likely see me outside, sweating profusely, wearing a goofy looking big straw hat [in the south, women are required to wear them after age 50 every time they work in the yard - it's the law]. My hands will be dirty. My arms will probably be sunburned. I won't care.

I often think of a moving scene in the film "Amistad" when the African slave makes a speech about calling upon the spirits of his ancesters to help him out. I feel sometimes like my genes remember all the folks who came before me, who farmed. I ask them for help sometimes. They kept gardens so they could eat, not for fun They were people who relied on crops to buy the children shoes, who worked hard and lived close to the earth, who were not isolated from it the way we are so often.

Now I know why my father used to come home at night and fix a drink and walk around the yard, even in winter, just looking at everything. He listened to the call of Canadian geese overhead. He watched the sun go down. He laughed at the dogs rolling in the grass. My brother does his yard walks in the morning, just after he awakens. The older I get, the more I appreciate that the land is a living thing, a source of strength and pride, a connection to our ancestors, to our families, and to God, the maker of all things.

Bitterly Disappointed

I just re-read what I said yesterday about Places in the Heart, and I realized I made a stupid statement. There certainly IS violence in the movie – a shooting, and two vicious beatings. It would certainly only be appropriate for older kids. What I was thinking was there was no gratuitous violence – no explosions, no machine guns, that sort of thing. The violence illustrates a point. If you want a child to get inspired to do the right and moral thing, show them a movie about injustice, with characters you can truly care about. The violence that racism is violence depicted for what I feel is a noble reason. It’s to say, this must never happen again.

Michael was very upset all day, and it pained me to see him like that. His friend from school was supposed to come over this morning, and never showed up. I spoke to the mother yesterday morning and we set up a play date. So this morning we all ate a quick bowl of cereal, then jumped around getting the house straight. At 10:15 I called the mother – no answer, and the answering machine cut off. At 11, no answer. At 11:10, no answer. Michael was sitting at the computer desk with his head in his hands. He said bitterly “He’s NOT coming!”

I couldn’t think what to say. I kissed the back of his neck and rubbed his back. “Michael, I am SO sorry this happened. I hate it. I hate to see anyone hurt you. They aren’t bad people, though. They are just careless. We must not be careless with other people’s feelings.”

I went in Mother’s room to speak to her, and when I came back out, Michael was lying on the sofa, asleep, his face pressed into the pillows.

We went to Walgreen’s – a new one, just opened across from the Kroger. It’s fun to go in a brand new store and see all the products.

While in there, the mother finally called me, at noon, to say she had just woken up. Her son was with his father. They would be back “early” – which meant around 3, she said. I told Michael about it. We’ve had this issue before, with the play date set up, and this child unable to come due to his father not bringing him back on time. Michael’s attitude was “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

We had lunch at Mesa Caliente, my favorite Mexican restaurant.

By 3:30, the mother still had not called, and the play date was not happening. Michael just said he’d rather go to the movie this afternoon. I turned off my cell phone and we went to the movie.

The movie was The Forbidden Kingdom , the newest from Jackie Chan. I like kung fu movies that are done well, and this one was excellent. Very entertaining.

When I finally turned my cell phone back on, there was a message from the child saying he was ready to come over. It was almost 8 p.m. and we had finished dinner and were getting ready to settle down for the movie. The message had been left at 4:15 or thereabouts. I am sorry we didn’t get to the play date, but I am more irritated at the parents for being so irresponsible with Michael’s feelings.

Before the movie, we got some more things for the garden. I found a nice basil plant, another pepper, and two cherry tomato plants. I might get another cucumber plant, but otherwise I think we are done with the garden, for now.

 

I fixed Bud’s Chicken for dinner - wow was it yummy. Mother had a nice plate of leftovers from Brian’s house. We all had macaroni and cheese again, and the kids ate some 7 layer salad, and liked it very much. They really preferred the salad to the mac & cheese, which is one way they are more Russian than American.

At dinner, Alesia made a point of saying she had a happy day yesterday and a happy day today. Mother said she had a nice weekend, too. I like that they can express those feelings. I, on the other hand, looked at all the lush greenery and well-blooming flowers we’ve had and thought, I need to pull weeds. When will I have time?! I saw the weeds, not the flowers. Guess that’s my way of dealing with things right now.

Food, Glorious Food

This morning Michael had an 8 a.m. soccer game. When we were on the way to the field, a big ‘ol 5 minute trip, somehow we got on the subject of his sweetness.

“I’m a boy! I’m not supposed to be called sweet,” he’d groused.

Michael IS sweet, though, it’s one of his defining characteristics. Alesia is sweet, too, despite her teenage and other issues. God has so blessed me with sweet children.

I signed up to get a newsletter for parents of FAS children, and I have joined a Yahoo group for the same folks. I figured it might help give me some insights into how to deal with Alesia’s issues. However, the more I read, the more distressed I become. My children, although they both had alcoholic birth mothers, are so unlike most of the kids I read about with FAS. Michael, as I’ve said, shows no real signs of it other than some mild attention and memory issues, which are probably just boy, not FAS.

Alesia’s FAS-caused issues, while very troubling to me, are nothing compared to what I read about from the other parents. They describe kids who constantly act out, who truly cannot function in school, who have tantrums all the time - so many issues. I feel so sympathetic to those parents. Alesia has her moments but she’s just not like those kids.

I had made an appointment to have her evaluated at the Marcus Center, but after I thought about it for a week or two I canceled it. My insurance won’t cover most of it, and I hate to spend my entire tax refund on an evaluation that will most likely not tell me anything I don’t already know. I know she has a terrible memory, a hard time understanding cause and effect, a difficulty conceptualizing. The woman at the Marcus Center said at 16 there’s not much they can do. I don’t really accept that, but I think I can find some things on my own that will help.

************************************************************************************

Alesia’s stomach issues have been better since I took her off of Motrin. I hope the Prevacid will help, but yesterday it really didn’t. Then again, she took it after she ate, not before as instructed.

We went to Kroger this morning after Michael’s soccer game and his shower. Afterwards, we ran through the Burger King Drive Thru. I must note here that Burger King is right down the street from Dairy Queen. If I had some extra money I would invest in a place called The Sweet Princess, featuring only desserts. When I went to the University of Georgia 25 years ago there was a wonderful place called The Flamingo Room, that had only desserts, and looked a bit like an old-fashioned ice cream parlor. But I digress.

Alesia ordered a triple hamburger. It was HUGE. I wouldn’t let her get French fries. She took the burger out of the bag, checking the order to make sure it was right. She could barely lift the burger in one hand, and her hands are larger than normal. Michael looked at it admiringly and said softly, “You could KILL a man with that thing!!”

I had to laugh. This is one of my expressions. The apple never falls far from the tree, even a transplanted apple.

I was lucky enough to spend most of the afternoon working in my garden. We got some radishes planted, and some more flowers. We planted several pots of blue morning glories and they will grow around the back fence and be gorgeous.

Lesleigh came over and took Alesia to a local hairdressers for a free makeup lesson. Of course, the catch was that the woman wanted to sell a bunch of products. She did a great job with Alesia, though. If we can just get rid of the heavy black eyelines and Groucho Marx brows I will be happy. I am not financing the makeup, though. She has her own money she can use for that.

We got a lot of rain late this afternoon, which is great for our garden. The azaleas out front are finally starting to fluff out, too.

Mother is still taking Prenisone for an allergic rash she got last time the carpets were cleaned. It makes her shaky and nervous. So she stayed home tonight, and the kids and Lesleigh and I went to eat with our neighbor Brian.

Brian is such a fabulous cook. We had ribs [slow cooked in the crock pot, and fork tender], macaroni and cheese [the real kind, Patti Labelle's recipe]  

and a dish I didn’t think I would like, but I did – baked beans with pineapple. I know it sounds weird but it’s a Paula Deen recipe and it’s wonderful. It’s here .

The kids were well-behaved, thank goodness. We showed Lesleigh how Brian has so beautifully decorated the house. He finds great bargains, uses good pieces of furniture to anchor the rooms, and although everything looks like it’s right out of House Beautiful, he’s very comfortable saying “That chair came from Ikea… I picked that bed up at a yard sale” – etc. HGTV ought to do a whole show just about his house.

The kids and I finished watching Places in the Heart, one of the greatest films ever made, I feel. It’s a good way to teach children about the Great Depression, and has some good lessons about the history of racism. I also enjoy the movie because there’s no cussing or violence, and it shows what appears to be a pretty accurate depiction of life in a small southern town during the 1930’s. I always think wow, that’s how things looked when my parents were growing up.

SHORT NOTES

I got an e-mail yesterday from a work friend with a link to a website with deep discount deals. Now, I am NOT a shopper, and I will tell you that in a heartbeat. This website is addictive, though, if you like a bargain: www.bradsdeals.com/

I also got an e-mail with a link to this site, for cheap laptops, and it looks interesting: www.yourhelpcenter.info/

This is a new blog started by a cyber buddy of mine, Judy, who adopted her daughter from Petropavlovsk. Her writing is very droll. http://cellyssister.blogspot.com/

I am reading the best book. It’s called The Last Chinese Chef, by Nicole Mones. I’ve only read part of it, but it’s nicely written. There’s a foreign city [Beijing], a lot of discussions of food, and a love story. Just my kind of book!

ASAP - Or NOT

Last night was an unusual evening for several reasons.

I wanted to get to Kroger and pick up Alesia's Prevacid prescription so she could start it ASAP. So I was in a hurry.

The Universe laughs at me when I am in a hurry.

Traffic on I-75 was snarled from the moment I got on there. Then I got home and mother wanted to chat about dinner. It ended up being almost 7 p.m. before we got to Kroger. Michael wanted me to walk slowly around the store so he could wheel around on his Heeleys.

We left there and drove 2 minutes, to Enzo's Pizza, a neighborhood pizza place in Tucker with excellent pizza - but you have to wait. And wait. Then when my pizza arrived it had big slices of tomato instead of sauce. Yikes. Took me a minute to pick those off without disrupting the delicate balance of toppings on my big slice of pizza. We had to wait some more for Alesia's cheese/mushroom calzone.

I finished eating, as did Michael. We had to wait on Alesia and Mother. The TV on the wall had a big sign on it saying Do NOT touch the TV! [OK already, jeez, calm down.] We went outside and played a beanbag toss game set up for people who have to wait. When a restaurant gives you games to play while you wait, you may be there a while. [Notice Cracker Barrel built a whole STORE for you to browse while you wait??!!]

We ran by teh frozen custard place on the way home, but I had to wait and eat mine after I got home, because I can't eat and drive at the same time, too uncoordinated.

When we got home, I got all settled down on the couch, in my bathrobe, and by then it was 9 p.m. Mother's computer was acting up. Mike and I had to wait while Alesia got it somewhat fixed. I went ahead and ate my now melted custard sundae. Finally, Alesia came in to join us for the evening movie.

We watched some more of The Winds of War - specifically, part 3. I kept waiting for something interesting to happen. Nothing interesting happened. There was a lot of talking, and some interesting German locations.

I reluctantly turned it off at 9:45 and went upstairs to bed. I wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep and sleep. I had to wait for Alesia to knock on my door and ask for a Pepcid.

I checked e-mail. I waited to hear from my brother, who was incommunicado yesterday.

Finally, I got into bed, and was almost dozing when Alesia knocked on the door. She complained that I am almost out of Pepcid. "You're starting the Prevacid tomorrow," I reminded her.

After waiting some more for sleep to come, I was out like a light. Then it was morning, about 5 minutes later.

Finally, no more waiting. Alesia took her Prevacid this morning. Bruce sent me an e-mail which included - "Rockets are tapering off nicely!"

Now I am just waiting for the weekend to start.

Aunt Gassy and Captain Underpants

I can't write much because I spent most of my lunch hour on the phone dealing with an insurance matter. [That's like #4 on my list of Top Ten THINGS I HATE TO DO - right behind dealing with a yeast infection, taking international flights, and using an outhouse in the middle of nowhere...]

I FINALLY got a call from Dr. Schoen's nurse and the verdict is that Alesia has gastritis. From my research, it looks like H Pylori can cause it, and the gastritis lingers even after the H Pylori is gone. It's like a crazy relative [let's call her Aunt Gassy!] who came for the holidays and won't leave. Apparently, Prevacid is supposed to give Aunt Gassy the heave-ho. So we will get the prescription tonight and hope for the best. I hope to be able to post soon that Aunt Gassy has left the building. [This has nothing to do with Alesia's sometime nickname, Miss Fartbottom...]

I've noticed she has had less discomfort since getting off Motrin. It contains aspirin, which is an irritant.

Mike was quite the little showman last night. He had gotten from the school library a book called Captain Underpants, and decided to play like he was the good Captain. So for movie time, after dinner, he went upstairs to put on his pj's and came back down wearing briefs and with his bathrobe knotted around him like a cape. He announced he was Captain Underpants! Ta da!He was there to save us! Coco barked fiercely at him. Mother shook her head and made a speedy exit for her room. Alesia said "Eeeuw, don't touch me." I just laughed.

I later took photos of him posing as Captain Underpants, but I won't put them on the internet, for fear of some sicko looking on here.

Sometimes I feel like, in comparison to being at home, being at work is like a relaxing spa day...

The Invisible Stress

The gastroenterologist called me Monday night at home and left me a message, which was barely understandable due to some electronic interference. All I heard was her name and that she had the test results. (The endoscopy last Thursday included tissue samples for biopsy.) I have called now to her office, both the receptionist and her direct line, and left 4 messages in TWO DAYS! How hard is it to just get the nurse to call me back already? I left my cell as the contact number, and I've walked around with the cell phone in my pocket for two days. This is maddening.

Meanwhile, the gastric discomfort is keeping Alesia up at night. All I can do is give her some Pepcid and a little extra Melatonin. I hate seeing her suffer.

Last night while we were brushing teeth and getting ready for bed, Michael asked me if he could fight with a kid at school. Some kid had said something snotty to him. I said nope, you do that you'll get suspended, plus you face severe punishment at home. I told him the only time it's OK to fight is to defend oneself, and that's why he's in karate.

In Kazakhstan the punishment for fighting wasn't too severe.

Mike always weighs the pros and cons of things. If he does something naughty and I threaten to punish him he will say things like "Exactly how long in timeout are we talking about?" [Mother says he will be a lawyer when he grows up! Yikes. I would hate that.]

The home punishment for fighting, I told him, would be something like picking up every pinecone and pulling every weed in the yard, every day for several weeks. He usually tries to get out of yard work so I knew that would horrify him.

I also told him that if he's bad enough, here in America, he will have to go to prison for kids, the Juvenile Detention Center. That was news to him, I could tell. My mind flashed back to what I was told about him running around with a little gang of boys when he was with his birthmom. He has told me about smoking cigarette butts off the street and drinking beer when he was 8 years old. For a homeless boy in a tiny Kazakh village that probably wasn't terribly unusual, but every so often I feel the need to do some more "civilizing" of him.

When we were trying to leave the house yesterday he wanted to argue with me about putting a letter in the mailbox. Instead of that, he wanted to go unlock the truck. I finally had to yell to get him to go to themailbox.Therefore, when he got home from school yesterday, he had to pick up every pinecone and stick from the straw flower bed out front. Mother said he filled almost two big lawn & leaf bags.

I've told him repeatedly that failure to do what he's told WILL result in punishment, but he keeps pushing the boundaries. He is a lot less rebellious than Alesia was, but he still tries to get away with whatever he can. He has a strong will, plus considerable charm - a lethal combination.

Just before bed last night, Mike walked into Alesia's room without really knocking or waiting for her to invite him in. She told him that was rude, and I told him not to do it again. he looked at her, grinning. Alesia had on a shirt that Mother and I have told her is a bit too tight. He then said to her impishly "Isn't that shirt too TIGHT?!" and she just glared at him and said "Well, isn't your Mr. Happy too SMALL?!"

He scurried away, hurt and fuming. I felt sorry for him, but I also thought well, play with fire and you will get burned...

When I hugged Alesia I whispered and said "Don't EVER say things like that to a boy or a man, unless you're prepared for them to be EXTREMELY angry with you. They never, ever think any insults about their private parts are funny."

It took me about 10 minutes of cuddling and joking around to get Michael back in a good humor.

GOOD NEWS

I mailed off a care package to Bruce with his camera and his phone. I hope and pray it gets to him soon. He should get the second package in the next few days.

My friend and cousin Lesleigh came over and put in the spring flowers into our front flower beds today. Yay! That is such a chore. I don't mind putting things in pots but I hate grubbing around on the ground. In Atlanta, we plant pansies in the winter because they can survive our winters, then other things in summer, like petunias and impatiens.

PRAYER CONCERNS

I need everyone to pray the doctor's office will call me back about Alesia's test results ASAP. I am climbing the walls.

I found out today that Michael's karate teacher, Mr. H, has pancreatic cancer. This is so distressing. He is just wonderful with the kids and they adore him. He has been so kind to us, and to Michael particularly. Please keep Mr. H and his family in your prayers.

My cyber buddy Hallie is going through an ordeal, with her husband in the hospital. Please keep her and her family in mind.

THE INVISIBLE MOM

I got this from a friend at work, and I thought it was so beautiful, I wanted to share it. [Sorry if the spacing is off.]

Invisible Mother...

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if  I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no on e can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain th at these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put
together so well.  It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling  pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building as fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder.  As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possi ble that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

You're doing a Great Job!  You are appreciated...even if no-one tells you that you are!  Being a mom is amazing, even on the days that you feel invisible!

"The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you".

Sightseeing in Baghdad

My brother sent an interesting note to us from Baghdad this morning.

Thought I'd write about a couple of interesting things.

We made a trip out earlier this week to visit some Iraqi counterparts. I set up
the movement and was advised to allow plenty of time for traffic. Yes, our
media just can't seem to grasp that one of the issues here in Baghdad is traffic jams during rush hour. We went armed to the teeth and in hardened vehicles, but that really didn't make much impression on the sheer volume of cars on the roads. Must be a tough war when traffic jams have to be factored into operational plans....

The dogs in the green zone are interest ing. They tend to hang out around the  security guys and Americans. Dogs hate Iraqis and visa versa, so the guards  like to have them around for early warning and the dogs like the food and ear rubs. Seems to work out well for both parties.

There are lots of birds here. There is a ring necked dove or pidgeon that is
common and pretty big. The usual sparrows are everywhere and we see some sort of big black and white bird every now and again. Looks sort of like a big fat crow with a hooked beak and a good amount of white on the wings and body. You would think the big black and white bird was a predator, but it's hard to say.

More later on when I think of something..

YS/YB

Lots of Stuff

My brother e-mailed this morning to say just send his deactivated cell phone and he can rig it to work, somehow. Something about switching out a card?! I have no idea how that works, and I don't want to know. If the Professor can rig up a radio with a coconut, I'm sure they can bring a dead cell phone back to life in Baghdad...

I'll send him the phone and the camera he ordered tomorrow and hopefully he will have the box within a week or so. Can't wait to see his photos.

The guy coming out to pick up my car couldn't make it yesterday; some family emergency. Last night when I got home, I got the kids and we played "rearrange the cars." Mother's car was on the street all day yesterday because my car was hogging most of the driveway. I got the kids to help me and we moved my dead car on down the driveway, closer to the house. Michael steered and Alesia and I pushed. It was not that hard to do. They thought it was great fun. Then they got in Mother's car with me and we put that in the driveway, close to the house. Next, the really fun part - we all got in Uncle Bruce's truck. The kids wanted a ride, so I took a turn through the back part of the neighborhood.

The car finally got picked up this morning. Mother, who has never met a stranger, knows the tow truck driver's entire life story, and they are new best friends.

I grew up wondering why on earth total strangers desperately want to tell my mother their life stories, and pour out their hearts to her. She attracts sad stories like a cow patty attracts flies. I've seen it take her 15 minutes extra to buy groceries because the clerks in the grocery store all confide in her as they ring up the groceries. The guys at the Chevron in Augusta viewed her as a second mother. Neighbors come over for counseling sessions. I had friends in high school who came over to see HER, not me. When I was in college, I had a childhood friend who saw her regularly, even though I was living hundreds of miles away. He needed counseling and she was there. She really should have been a licensed psychologist. Keeping my dad in line was a full-time job for 40 years, though..

I think she should start her own website called Ask Elva, sort of a Southern Dear Abby with an attitude, but she might tick people off, with her oft-used admonition to "Use some common sense!"  Another one I hear sometimes is "You're just gonna have to give that one to the Lord and quit worrying about it!" Amen. Now it's nap time.

This morning, Michael was so excited to be able to ride to school in the truck. He got in, looked around admiringly, and said "I LIKE this car!" He keeps asking me what is in the box in the bed of the truck and I just say it’s full of stuff that’s Uncle Bruce’s business, not yours. LOL

I still have trouble climbing in the truck. I have short, stubby legs. I have to throw in my purse, grab the handle at the top of the doorframe, and HEAVE myself into the driver's seat. I always make a very attractive grunting sound when I do this. Mike looked at me this morning and said "Do you have to ALWAYS make that sound?!" I restrained the urge to make comment #558 about how much I like leather seats.

Michael starts the CRCT test today. Since he is an ESOL student, he gets more time and gets to stay with Ms. Hickey, the ESOL teacher. They have had him doing practice tests for months now. He has been here only a year, so his CRCT score won't prevent him from being promoted, but it's good for him to take it and get the practice. Yesterday, I said to him, "Be sure and do your best, but don't worry about it."

This morning, while he was eating his "power breakfast" - fried eggs on toast - I said "What did I tell you yesterday about the test?!" and he thought for a second and said "Do your best and then don't worry about it!" It's so nice that he can remember things from day to day, unlike poor Alesia.

Now, if I could only get him to remember "Don't ARGUE!" already..

RANTS

I try not to rant and rave here too much, as I don't like reading blogs like that. Then again, sometimes things just irk me.

Britney Spears caused an accident the other day because she was putting on makeup instead of watching where she was driving. This is about the 6th problem she has caused in a car in less than a year. WHY on earth doesn't she hire a driver?! If I had the money I'd hire a driver. She has mucho bucks already! Clearly, the common sense fairy has not visited her in a long time..

Tom Cruise and his wife held a "low key, family" birthday party for their daughter's second birthday. They were at a mansion, with guests who had flown in from around the country, and there was a 4 tier cake and a giant card. Everyone went bowling. Probably cost in the 6 figures.

Tom, Katie, let me tell you the definition of a family birthday party, K? You put a card table in the back yard with a cake from Publix. You invite close family and some kids from the neighborhood. You put party hats on everyone, blow out the candles, eat cake, the kid opens her presents. Kids play, parents visit, the dog licks frosting off the floor, and in a couple of hours it's over and everyone goes home. Ding ding ding - ring any bells?!

I have been watching morning shows since I was about 10 years old. Every morning, the Today show. I remember watching Jane Pauley on there, that's how ancient I am now. Why, oh why, can they and Good Morning America just do the news at 7:00? Why do we have to be treated to the most sensationalistic stories for 20 minutes before they will tell us the news?! I HATE that! I only watch TV once a day, and it's to see the dadgum news. GMA is bad to find murder or kidnapping stories and put the parents on at 7:02, so we can watch the Victim of the Day before we've even had our caffeine. Whoever puts those stories on, I'd like to find them and slap them upside the head.

I understand the dictum "If it bleeds, it leads," but c'mon, save that for the evening news.

I am also SICK TO DEATH of hearing about the political candidates. Obama was criticized yesterday for saying he didn't want to answer a question, just eat his waffles - he was trying to eat breakfast. The reporters pounced on that, saying how dare he prefer food over questions. Oh puh-leeeze. Those reporters all need to get in a car and let Britney drive them around a while until they switch their focus from microanalyzing politicians to fearing for their lives...