They're ba-a-ack!

I remember when I was in junior high, pinch-rolling my jeans to make them tight at the ankle, and my mom laughed and talked about how back in her day the bigger the bottom of the pant leg the better. I just rolled my eyes. How could bell bottoms ever come back?!
Well, of course they did. Not exactly like mom's, but wide-legged and hip-hugging nonetheless.
Not so long ago, my sister and I were laughing over pictures of ourselves in our 80's velour shirts, flats, and one-piece jumpsuits. Surely, the 80's would never return! How could anything so ridiculous looking become cool again?
But everywhere I go, I see long sweaters with wide belts, button-up shirts with cap sleeves, and big plastic jewelry. And tonight, after spending time at the mall with friends, Hillary excitedly told me about a wonderful discovery! "They're like leggings, mom, but they don't go all the way up. Just to your knees. And if I wear them with the same color heels they kind of look like boots."
Those are called LEG WARMERS, Hillary. And do you even know how many jokes have been made about that particular fashion accessory? It reminded me of the time, when she was 5 years old and went to her first dance class, and she was trying to explain about the really cool thing that the teacher used to play the music. "It was like a cd, only bigger." "You mean a record?" Boy did I feel old then.
I know fashion cycles...and I've been known to wear things I swore I would never wear. But all I can say is...if hair "wings" come back, I'm drawing the line!

Girls gone....good!

Hillary and I had the priviledge of attending a conference together this weekend. It was amazing!

The decorations were adorable...the speakers were inspiring...and every detail had been planned to make us feel pampered and feminine.

One of the highlights was a concert by Natalie Grant. Afterwards I snagged her as she was walking by on the way to her bus and we got a quick pic.

How exciting!

After rocking with the worship band and listening to Christine Caine, Vera (Something Russian), and Casey Gibbons encourage our souls, we chilled (literally! ha) outside...roasting marshmallows...listening to a live jazz band...and getting a pink extension put in Hillary's hair. The $5 donation went to breast cancer research.

But even better than the outdoor movie, the jewelry shopping, and the Starbucks, was the time she and I got to spend together. We talked and laughed and prayed and cried.

I loved just watching her as she exclaimed about everything, took a million pictures, and praised with hands raised and tears running down her cheeks. I am proud of the woman she's becoming. I know that not every mother of a teenage girl is so lucky.

"And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good"

First Game

Calling all sports fans and interested family members...Today marked the opening of the junior high boys basketball season. Though Parker has played on a community team for several years, I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore when he dressed in khakis and a collared shirt for school today. I forgot that athletes have to dress up on game day. I oohed and ahhed. I haven't been able to get him into khakis since he was old enough to say, "I hate these pants!" He packed his uniform (#41...his favorite number and also his dad's old number), his basketball shoes, and a snack and left for school. I didn't see him again until the game.

And at the end of the game, he chose to stay with his team and ride the bus home. Where is my little boy who always wants to go with mom and dad? That boy is in my scrapbooks. This young man is in the gym!

Celebrations

Homecoming! A week's worth of assemblies, crazy and creative clothing, special projects, and friendly class rivalries. Hillary (President of the Junior Class) put a lot of hard work into this statue...and it paid off. Juniors won spirit week by 1/2 a point! Go team!



Then, after the football game, it was off to the dance. Or, rather, off to the Mexican restaurant to grab a quick, but somewhat romantic dinner before the dance. How nice of them to invite Mom. I'm sure it had nothing to do with Hillary forgetting something and needing me to bring it to her. I'm just that cool.


Then more celebration...Hillary turns 17! She had a birthday dinner at home (favorite meal cooked by mom) complete with two cakes and red flowers (courtesy of boyfriend, Larry).

Do you see a theme here? Oh, you noticed that Larry was in every picture? By the way, that leads us to the latest celebration. Their "1 year anniversary"! Wasn't it just yesterday she was picking boys up and putting them down again like a distracted shopper? I worried she was turning out to be a heartless heartbreaker. But I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship this long. Maybe I'm just hard to please! Maybe I should just celebrate like everyone else. Pass the party hat!

Finding Parker

I think the words "junior high" must come from some obscure language where it means "contradictions". At least that's what I've experienced in raising a junior high boy.
He turns 13 in a month...and suddenly he doesn't use our bathroom anymore. He uses the front bathroom (which actually locks and has a solid shower curtain instead of a glass door). He obsesses about his hair and his clothes. But he almost never remembers to brush his teeth.
He isn't afraid to stay home alone..even when it's dark.
But he read Dr. Seuss' "Oh the Places You'll Go" yesterday and declared it the best book ever.
Friday night was homecoming, and we all went to the football game. Parker carried my chair for me. When I told him how nice that was he replied, "Well, I want to know where you're sitting." The strength of a man and the insecurity of a boy.
He left with a group of boys and a frisbee and I didn't see him again for a long time.
When it was time for me to go (which was immediately after the half-time show where Hillary led the band in it's first "moving" field show ever!) I started looking for him. I saw some guys down at the end of the field, throwing a football and running around. I strained my eyes, but I couldn't make out which one was him. I folded my chair up and continued looking around. There were some old people to my right...and a group of teenagers sitting right behind me. That's when it hit me.
Those teenagers weren't teenagers at all! They were Parker and his friends! There he sat, shoulder to shoulder with a cute blonde girl, surrounded by several other guys and girls...looking and acting cool.
I nonchalantly nodded to him. "I'm leaving." "Ok." "Don't let dad leave you." "I won't"
It was all I could do not to take a picture.
But his nervous smile clearly said, "Please be cool."
So I was.
Until I got in the car.
Then I laughed a little and tried not to get a tear in my eye.

That's the way the toilet flushes...

I have a new student. I was warned from the beginning that he's ADHD and borderline autistic, so it might be a challenge. But as soon as he entered the room, extra tall for his age, and sticking close to grandma (who is raising him), I knew I would love him...and I do.
He has only been here two days, but he's already given me many moments of laughter mixed with a few (almost) tears.
One of the first things he said to me when he finally decided to talk was..."My momma left me. She left me all alone and now I am at a new school and I am all alone. That wasn't very nice." I agreed. But I told him that I was glad he was in my class and that some of the other kids were living with their grandparents too.
Then, a little later, he had to go to the bathroom. I showed him where it was (right outside our classroom) and went back to walking around the room, supervising the students' writing. He came bursting back in the room loudly exclaiming, "I HAD TO POOP BUT I COULDN'T EVEN POOP BECAUSE THE TOILET JUST KEPT FLUSHING AND FLUSHING AND I THINK ITS BROKEN SO I COULDNT EVEN POOP BECAUSE THE TOILET IS BROKEN!" I calmly explained that we have automatic toilets which flush on their own, so we never have to worry about forgetting to flush them. He just looked at me and said, "OK, I'M GONNA GO FINISH POOPING NOW!" By this point the rest of the class was laughing uncontrollably. What could I do besides shrug my shoulders, say, "That was funny, wasn't it?" and laugh along. Some days...that's just the way the toilet flushes.

A stitch in time

Some of my earliest memories of my mother involve fabric, needle and thread. She was always sewing something...curtains, doll clothes, even a suit for my dad. We kids had access to anything she owned...except her sewing scissors. Get caught cutting paper with them and you were in BIG trouble! The smell of new, cotton fabric, the crispness of thin paper patterns, and the rhythmic thrum of the sewing machine are forever etched into my childhood. She made almost all my sister's and my clothes - often matching outfits - causing people to ask if we were twins.

By junior high, however, I had realized that none of the other girls wore homemade clothing. They shopped at the mall and wore polo shirts with name brands stitched on the front, jeans with Guess on the pocket and shoes with little blue Keds tags on the back. My lovingly stitched dresses and cotton shorts seemed suddenly shabby and poor. The embroidered tags that said, "Made especially for you by Sandy" just couldn't compete with Jordache. So I allowed her to sew for me only when it was absolutely necessary. Like when we couldn't afford a $200 prom dress so she bought a few yards of satin and sequins and made me one.

While I was eschewing her talent, others were begging for it. She always had a stack of things to sew for other people. People payed her to hem their slacks, sew dresses for weddings, make curtains, and even decorative pillows for their designer furniture.

As I neared high school graduation, planning a wedding with a new baby and a new attitude, I began to appreciate her gifts. Her talent provided me with a beautiful sequined and laced wedding gown, bridesmaids dresses, and even the cumberbunds for the candlelighters...all things I never could have afforded to buy.

That marriage has reached it's fifteen year anniversary, and that baby is dress shopping for junior prom. And in an ironic twist, she disdains the cookie-cutter dresses from the mall boutiques in favor of a custom design "Made especially for you by Sandy".

She thinks it's fabulous that her mimi can listen to her describe the bodice from this dress and the skirt from that one, sketch it out, and make it real. She proudly shows off the one-of-a-kind creations that make her friends jealous. What I thought was a sign I was less than the other girls...she thinks makes her special. And I love that. It's kind of like a gift from God...a way for me to make up for not appreciating the all-night sewing marathons on Saturday night, so I could have a new Easter dress on Sunday morning. Mom's stitches of love were strong and sure, and enough to keep our hearts from ripping apart - even through the wear and tear of adolescence.

And even though I don't have Mom's talent for sewing, I can only hope I do have her talent for weaving threads of love through my family that will never fray.