Good

A few days ago my house was full of people. Cars lined the driveway and extra matresses were pulled out into the middle of the floor and the Pack n Play was wedged into a corner of the bedroom. And it was good.
Today I am sitting all alone, sipping coffee and recovering from a day spent teaching summer school. The house is quiet except for the fluttering of the blue jays right outside my window, pecking at the bread Hubby threw out. And it is good. I'm so thankful that God gave me both. A large rowdy family and the ability to enjoy being alone now and then, with moments of one on one time with special people sprinkled in. So tonight I'll cook dinner for three. And then make plans for vacation with twelve (not counting the dog). To quote Pete the Cat "It's ALL good!"

Table for Four...or Five

There are so many things I could've blogged about lately.
Like Parker's last track meet or Hillary's new job.
Or what a fabulous Mother's Day I had...

But the thing that finally got me to sit down and write was a simple Wednesday night family dinner.  Hubby and I got home from work and I started the beef and rice.  It wasn't long until Hillary sauntered through the door and perched on a bar stool, talking about her day and smiling her smile.  And then, another door-slam, a thunk of a gym bag hitting the floor, and Parker was there, asking what was cooking and adding music to the mix.
I cut up broccoli and melted cheese while they bantered about the details of this year's Senior Class Pranks as they folded towels on the table.
And then the meal was ready and we started filling plates.  And Hubby said, "Weren't we supposed to have corn?" and we laughed because I had forgotten to cook it.
John Lennon sang and we all settled around the table.  The kids laughed every time their dad tried unsuccessfully to "name that tune".
And then, yet another door-slam as Neighbor Boy joined our party.
They talked about the upcoming trip to State (track 4X100 team, on which Parker is an alternate), and Hillary reminisced about her own State Track Adventure.  They talked about music and they talked about people they liked and some they didn't.
There was nothing special about this mid-week meal...the kind we used to have nightly and think nothing of.  The kind that happens only rarely now as life moves each of us further away from each other and into that thing called The Future.  And that's why everything was special about it.  The laughter, the language, the sun shining in the windows.  The music and good food.  The relaxed openness that allows friends and neighbors to walk on in without ringing the doorbell.  It was an hour of pure happiness.
Everyone will remember the Big Things...Mother's Day and State Competitions.
But I will remember the Small Things...a Wednesday night dinner around the table.  
 They are life's dessert.

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.