All That Jazz!

We went to see Hillary perform with her college Jazz Band tonight.
We had dinner in a corner booth with paintings of guys and dolls from the jazz era looking down on us.  The food was excellent and the company was sweet.
Then we moved downstairs, past a huge picture of Al Capone, to The Cellar, where we listened to Hillary's boyfriend and other talented musicians improv their hearts out.  Hillary and the rest of the choir wove harmonies and showed off their "scat" skills.

Hillary sang a solo, and I was struck, as always, by her confidence.  She knew every syllable by heart and entertained us with her gestures and expressions.  I leaned over to my friend sitting beside me (who also happens to be Hillary's old high school choir teacher) and said, "Man, that girl must have had a really good Choir Teacher!"  She just smiled.  But we both know she had much to do with who Hillary is today.

It was a good night, filled with food, music, my favorite Guys and Dolls...

and all that Jazz!

Baby Steps

A few weeks ago, as I was picking up laundry in Parker's room, I noticed a little bulge sticking out of a side pocket of his school bag.  I reached in and pulled out a tiny rubber fetus.  It was very life-like.  And very disconcerting.  I headed downstairs.
"Why is there a rubber fetus in your school bag?"
He looked up from his video game.
"Oh, that's from my Child Development class.  We all got one."
"What are you supposed to do with it?" I wondered aloud.
"Nothing. It's just for us to see.  It's actual size of a 20 week old."
Ok. Educational.  I guess. I had previously considered giving Parker something else small and made of Rubber designed to prevent pregnancy...but this could work too.
Then yesterday he came home toting a car seat with a 9 pound baby doll inside, complete with 2 diapers, a bottle, and a wristband for Parker so the computer chip could record how well he cared for Baby.
For the first 15 minutes, I was pretty impressed.
Parker was attentive, patient, and exceptionally gentle with Eve.  (He picked the name when he thought he was getting a girl...turns out he got a son with a girl's name. It happens.)

But soon, Little Eve began making unhappy noises.  A diaper change (which was way too non-messy to be realistic in my opinion) and all was quiet again.  Parker and son came downstairs to watch tv.
And then the real fun started.
Waaah waaaaaah!  He tried the bottle.
Waah waaaah!  He tried rocking.
By this point I was ready to send him and his homework to his bedroom.  That baby was cutting into my tv time.
He tried feeding. (Yes, he is watching tv.)

He tried burping.

He tried another diaper change.  

But eventually, he ended up doing what all exhausted new parents do....

he propped.

"Man," he exclaimed, "This was so much easier at the track meet when Lena was helping me.  She knew just what to do!"

"Which is why God intended babies to have TWO parents!" I quipped.

Fortunately, this was only a 24 hour assignment.  Eve went back to the foster home classroom this morning.  Parker got an 85%.  Apparently he missed a feeding, a burping, and a head support.

If only we could all be such competent parents.  Thank God there was no computer chip recording me when my babies were born!

Someday Parker will be a wonderful father (and hopefully, husband).  For now, I'm just glad he doesn't even have a pet goldfish.  It's a long life.  Let's take baby steps.

Field Events

"Parker wants you."
How many times through the years have I heard those words... From the church nursery when he was a toddler...from his sister when he was trying to prolong bedtime by asking for a drink...from his teammate when he just wanted me to hold his stuff during a game.
But this time the words weren't for me.
They were for his dad.
We were sitting at a track meet watching a multitude of colored jerseys milling around the track and field.  Parker was getting ready to high jump.  Most parents/spectators are required to stay in the bleachers, but Hubby strolled (like the Coach he is) right across the track lanes and onto the inner field.  I watched his broad back and his signature bright yellow hat as he stood around talking and listening to Parker and his co-competitors.  They gestured with their arms and lifted their knees and looked in deep discussion about form.  Hubby stayed put as Parker jumped...knocked the bar down...waited...jumped...made it...waited...jumped again. 
And I watched from the hill. 
It was like seeing invisible pieces of life suddenly fit together just the way they were supposed to. 
Because this father/son camraderie is new.
It's not that we've had any real "problems".  But like most animal species, there comes a time between young male and alpha male when heads butt and everything seems to be a challenge for personal honor.  For the last couple of years, I could ask Parker to scrub the toilet and he would reluctantly, but willingly go do it.  But Hubby could ask him to mow the yard and I feared for the carpet due to the sparks of fire coming out of Parker's eyes.  Homework help from Dad was impossible no matter how patiently Hubby thought he was explaining.  And even though Hubby is the Head Coach for girls basketball (and has been quite successful) Parker would stare straight ahead when Dad yelled helpful hints from the bleachers and say when we got home from the game "You are not my coach.  I only do what my coach tells me."
Hubby couldn't understand why Parker wasn't as "driven" as Hubby imagined himself to be at that age.  And I think he sometimes wondered how he had sired a son so different from himself.  

I stood between the two, seeing both sides and trying to nudge each closer to the other. 

But recently there have been signs of something new.  Parker chose his dad's old basketball number for his jersey. He rooted for Indiana in the Final Four because "well, Dad likes them...".  And he invited Hubby out onto his territory to watch him jump...close enough to offer encouragement and maybe a little critique.  And as Parker has opened up, Hubby has eagerly stepped in.  Whatever needed to be proven has been, and they are not only enjoying each other, but forging a special bond that only a Father and Son can know.  

So, when it was time for the last race to begin, and Parker asked his Dad to go to the "back stretch" because "I struggle with that section", I didn't feel left out.  I smiled from my lawn chair and watched my Boys with pride.  

Out of all the events happening on the field that day, watching their relationship deepen was my favorite. 

Good Friday

The calendar said "Good Friday"...

And I have to agree!

Cruisin'

Over Spring Break I went on a cruise with my sister.  We were very excited since neither of us had ever gone on a cruise before.  And we were looking forward to some "girl time" where we could laugh and talk and not do dishes or laundry or work for a few days.
I should have known we were in for trouble when we went to Target together a few days before we left for Miami.  Sis thought we needed a couple of new sundresses to take with us.  We each chose one and headed for the dressing room.  I went into the first empty one I saw and started undressing.  I heard Sis saying she would have to wait because there were no dressing rooms free.  "Well, come in here with me," I replied through the door.  "There's plenty of room."
And then I threw open my dressing room door to see a woman wearing a black dress and a stunned expression as she tried not to stare at my biscuit-dough belly.
She was not my sister.
I gathered as much dignity as one can wearing only a bra, panties, and ankle socks, and slammed the door.
My sister was a few steps down, crying-laughing.
I wish that was the end of the story, but before we left that dressing room I had not only exposed myself to a stranger, but also tried to get into a dressing room that was not mine, opening the door (why wasn't it locked??) on some poor girl whose face I (thankfully) did not see.  We left Target with a few new laugh wrinkles, but no new clothes.
Undeterred we packed our old shorts and swimsuits and flew to Miami where we got in a thousand-person line to board the Carnival Imagination.  Ahead of us was a group of Asians in matching yellow and orange windbreakers.  And behind us were two gals who must not have gone to first grade because they obviously didn't know how to stand in a line.  They were pushing and yelling at each other and kept bumping into Sis' back.  Just when I thought we were gonna have a smackdown, the line moved and we were going through ship security and walking up the gangplank.  We found our room and then headed for the food.
And the ship slid slowly away from the dock and out to sea.

We explored the ship (which means we got lost lots of times).  We ate tons of good food.  We went to a comedy show and drank fruity umbrella drinks and watched a guy propose to his girlfriend.  We changed clothes a lot.

And we laughed.
We explored Key West...

And we laughed.
We conquered Cozumel....

And we laughed.  Mostly she laughed at me.  I can't help it if I'm sensitive to the sun.  I considered wearing a burqa, but couldn't find one colorful enough for Mexico.

We talked and shopped and ate and drank and wondered how our steward, Winston, could make animals out of towels.

Eventually our ship turned toward home and we made sure to squeeze every drop of fun and sun out of the last day at sea.

Tired, but happy, we got back on the plane and attempted to leave Miami.  Two delays and lots of turbulence later all the "happy" I had stored up on the bonnie blue sea was evaporating into the blue sky.  When the stewardess finally made it to our seats with her cart, I considered asking for a parachute.  But instead I just made do with a Coke.  I was hungry, tired, and I really had to pee.
Then my sister pulled out the camera, and we started going through the pictures.  Soon we were laughing like we always do.

And then we were pulling our rolling suitcase through the airport where my sweet, thoughtful Man was waiting with a bouquet of fresh flowers for me (He always does this when he picks me up from the airport).  Only this time he had two bouquets...one for each of us girls.
And our skies were blue again.
I missed Hubby and the kids.  But I'm glad I made memories with my sister.  Cruisin' through life is easier when we're in the same boat.

Sweet Moments

As Forrest Gump's mom said, "Life is like a box of chocolates."
Today was an extra large economy box.
So I'm savoring the sweet moments that sit like sugar on my tongue.  After all, I need something to get rid of the black licorice taste of the moment when I couldn't get the movie out of the RedBox and the 12 year old kid behind me had to step up and touch the screen for me.  "I have used RedBox before!" I protested lamely.  But she just rolled her eyes.
Anyway...sweet moments...
Sleeping in until the sun peeked in my window.
Driving along in the sunshine with my Boys and still maintaining complete control of the radio.
Watching Hubby dote on his little girl cousin and remembering what a good daddy he was to our Girl when she was Little.
Parker's smooth, fuzz-free jawline now that he's a regular shaver.  And the few perfectly placed zits to balance the manliness with teenager.
Hillary's happiness over the posters advertising her next Concert in the Cafe, dotting her college campus with her own name and face.
The way Son and Daughter hugged when they saw each other tonight after a week of going their own way.
Snuggling under the covers with my Man, sliding my cold feet onto his warm ones, and burrowing into his back until we are connected in 100 places from nose to toes.
Mmm...delicious.

Cooking up a Story

"What's for dinner?"
Parker had just come in from track practice, sweaty and tousled and ready to consume large amounts of protein.    Fortunately, I had already made myself a snack.  I've learned how to survive around here.
"How about breakfast for dinner?" I asked as I cleaned out the fridge for him.
"That sounds Ah-mazing!" he replied before disappearing downstairs.
I put biscuits in the oven, filled a pan with bacon, and started scrambling eggs.
And then...he was back.
With a book.
"I know what I can do while you cook," he said.  "I'll read to you."
And he did.
As I flipped and stirred and scrambled, he read about an underwater futuristic world in which a teenage boy and girl meet and begin an adventure.  He had checked it out from the school library and had already read the whole thing for his class.  But he thought I would enjoy it.  So he re-checked it, just for me.
I couldn't help remembering how excited he'd been about learning to read as a 5 year old.
And then how frustrated he'd been as a faltering first grader.  The words just didn't cooperate with his brain.  He made a valiant effort.  I happened to be in college (for the second time) and put my Teaching Reading classes to work.  I gave him Reading Surveys and Phonemic Awareness tests, made sight word games and took Running Records.  I found a web site with Lego comic strips to motivate him to keep reading SOMEthing.  But it never got easy for him.  And by third grade he resisted reading like a dog resists a trip to the vet.
So through it all, I read to him.
I love books...have always loved books.  And I didn't want him to lose the magic of Story.  So I read to him. And to keep him from feeling singled out, I kept reading to Hillary and even to Hubby.
And I never stopped.
Eventually (fifth grade) we found out he had Dyslexia.  We got a 504 plan at school and a tutoring program that provided strategies that worked with his unique brain.  His grades began to improve.  His confidence began to bloom.  But he still didn't choose to read if he didn't have to.  I pretty much gave up hope that he'd ever read for pleasure.
And now this handsome high school kid is standing in my kitchen, reading to me for fun.  His deepening voice still falters over a word now and then.  And he stops to ask me what something means.  His phrasing is a little un-even.  But all I hear is a miracle blooming.  He wrestles the words to get to the magic of Story.  What I've spent years sharing with him, he is now sharing with me.
I fill his plate with food and he fills my heart with hope.
He bookmarks the page.  But our story is far from over.