Well, things never really improved with CNM. That was a shame, but it was what it was, and it turned out so much better in the end.
He did get into some classes, which was great. Ish. (The instruction was a bit of a mixed bag. It's pretty horrifying what college instructors are doing and saying in the name of being "the cool teachers". There are still those, though, even at CNM, who show intelligence and integrity while they man their post in front of a class of students. They are so appreciated.) They still hadn't bothered to look for his official scores and transcripts. It was crazy.
We had submitted the waiver for residency and his two "overt acts" for declaring intent to establish residency. (NM State law allows for students to receive in-state tuition if they have relocated here for a parent's job and are willing to declare their own intent to remain here.) What CNM doesn't tell you on their website, or in person, is that of the 11 acts that they say you need to have accomplished at least two of, what they really mean is there are only two on there that they will actually acknowledge. Good luck guessing which two! And they won't tell you until after the deadline! They denied his petition. Wee! We spoke to a supervisor. She also denied the petition. We asked to whom we could appeal, and she said no one.
Okay, then.
I went home to transfer money from savings (at this point, I was feeling rather defeated and didn't want to be an obstacle in John's path forward) and planned to pay his tuition in the morning. Except bright and early the next morning, as we sat down to take care of business, John forwarded me an email he'd just received announcing he'd been dis-enrolled for non payment. (At some point, you'd think I'd have gotten a clue that if it's THIS difficult to work with this institution, then there's probably something I'm not getting, like, I don't know, this isn't where he ought to be. But I am slow.)
I told him to go ahead and re-enroll and then I'd log in and pay right then (since the funds had transferred). The process for re-enrolling, however, is quite complicated, and not listed anywhere on the school's website. You cannot register online for a class after the registration period has ended. He contacted the one helpful person we'd found at CNM who explained to him how to get it done. You have to email each professor and ask for permission to re-enroll in their class. Then they will, at their leisure, issue a manual override to permit you to re-enroll. There is no notification process in the system letting you know when you're good to go. You just have to keep trying until it works. The instructors have no time limit in which to complete this, because they're doing you a favor, but the payment clock starts ticking the minute you get your first class re-enrolled. And you'll be dis-enrolled if you haven't wrapped it up and paid by the time that clock strikes done. Again, because they're doing you a favor.
Well then.
I asked my brother-in-law if he could help us navigate the bureaucracy, but from everyone he spoke with he really just heard, "Yeah, this is how they roll now. It stinks." :-O Wow. He suggested we go to UNM-Valencia and talk to them. We hadn't really considered the UNM system. It's HYUGE, and we thought it would be worse at a larger institution. But why not give it a try?
I emailed the contact BIL had given me. John submitted an application. He doubled checked his Bag of Holding to make sure he still had everything. (ACT score report, unofficial transcripts from both high school and college, high school diploma, NREMT certification, BLS certification, etc. - all the same material he had brought with him to CNM) I submitted all the official requests that fall to the parent to request (or, more accurately, pay for). Mid-morning, I received an email reply, "I'll be here until 4. Come on by any time!" So down we went.
Y'all. We walked in there cold and walked out an hour and a half later with a graduation plan, a contact for who will evaluate his EMS credits, a full fall schedule, fully registered, with books, a parking pass, a student ID, a map of the campus, and the assurance that he will be coded as an in-state resident for tuition purposes once he turns in one form. (Also of note: he turned it in the next day and they issued him a bill for the in-state tuition. I paid it that day!) We could not get that far in six weeks of diligent effort at the community college here.
And now, he has money left over to buy a commuter car. He has a four-year plan once again. He knows where he stands, what he needs, and what he will need to accomplish in order to reach his goals. This was crazy hard to navigate, and he kept his cool, made sure he did the right thing at every step, kept communicating. I am gobsmacked.
Of course, because of the runaround at the community college, we wasted a lot of time extending good faith to them, and so he's starting the semester a week behind in his hardest subject. Again, what a difference growing up makes! He's been on it every day since he got home from registering, and he's nearly caught up to where the class will be next week.
Showing posts with label kids rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids rock. Show all posts
Sunday, September 2
Wednesday, August 29
The End of the Adrenaline
We've been beasts this week! Go, go, go! Lift, load, shift, hang! Go back for more! Beat that garage back!
Get it done! Get it out! Make the calls! Visit the places! Corner the people! Make it feel like Home!
There has been little rest outside those glorious sunrise coffee-on-the-porch sessions (which may have been what kept me going - those are really nice!)
But I found the end of the adrenaline on Saturday night -- at 9PM, the biggest wall you've ever not seen coming hit me square in the face and I was done. I haven't been that done in ages. Oof. And on that note, I had to pull an executive veto on Sunday's plans.
The day started with an update from Granny (Z's Mom), who had called from the hospital on Friday. She's been on chemo and was feeling pretty puny, punier than seemed right, so her sister called an EMT neighbor to come take a look at her (perks of small town life). He suggested she call her doc or pop on over to Lubbock. She figured her doc would send her to Lubbock, anyway (downside to small town life - it all balances out), so off they went. Yep, her white blood cell count was way too low. They signed her in for a weekend at the spa, complete with complementary gown, fresh IV, and all the tests.
Turned out she had appendicitis! So they got her into surgery Saturday and squared away. She is doing well and her white blood cell count is already back on the rise. That's such a praise and a relief! But it was a humdinger of a day, emotionally.
John and I headed out early that morning for Day 3 of Trying to Register for Classes in Person. (Remember, he MUST be a full-time student to live on base with us.) We spent a lot of time crossing and re-crossing the "holeway" (rather than the hallway - I love that!)
It should have been a pretty straightforward thing, and we had begun the process back in July to make it go as smoothly as possible. Unfortunately, the school hadn't processed his ACT scores (which I know I personally requested and paid for back in July), and they hadn't processed his transcripts (which I know I also paid for the beginning of August and had sent as soon as the semester grades posted), so nobody in the EMS program will talk to him or return his calls.
Since he's missing both test scores and prior learning evidence, he can't register online because he's not cleared in the system as having met the pre-requisites for anything. He can't get an appointment with an EMS advisor because they don't see that he's met any of their requirements for coordinated entry. And the whole process of transferring to another school is a brand new one! Wee! For a fairly timid, quiet young man, this is like living in Munch's Scream.
He took in his NREMT certificate, high school diploma (he's got 36 college credits and is coming in as a transfer student - I'm not sure why they needed that, but they pinged him for not having it, so he provided it), and his BLS certificate. He emailed the student ACT report directly to a counselor (it doesn't count officially, but it did give her the latitude to issue overrides for prerequisites, at least), and then he scrabbled together a full-time schedule out of whatever required courses for an Associate's still have seats available ... 48 hours before the start of the semester. It's an odd semester, and two of the classes are online and don't have times posted, but it's a schedule. And he got a bus pass, so now he can get around town. Yay! He's still hoping to get in front of an EMS faculty member Monday and start getting plugged into their Paramedic program, but at least we won't have the Feds beating down our door to evict him for not being a full-time student. That was a huge relief to have taken care of.
Jacob is still actively dying. I think he's the most sensitive to altitude changes, anyway, and with the dry air, he's having 5-10 nose bleeds a day (the Ponaris should be here Monday or Tuesday). And yet, he made it to Nutcracker auditions. He says he did poorly, and he's very disappointed in himself. I don't know how he could have done more, though, really. I'm neither sick or out of sorts and I can barely get in a shower and a load of wash every day; he's had classes every day since we've been here, made the call on a studio, AND hit auditions -- on top of all the unloading, unpacking, hefting and shifting. I don't know. I'm impressed. I hope they loved him.
We ran down to BIL's house to get some things for the shoot and got to see the vineyard. These are the Sangiovese cuttings - the wee sticks they planted last fall - in the ground and growing! They're so pretty!
On the way home, I checked my phone and saw the reminder for the Regency Ball. D'oh! Noooo! I texted the boys, "Are you ready for the dance? We'll be there in 20!" (They weren't. They, too, had forgotten about it.) But they were ready to roll by the time we got home. We switched vehicles and I drove the boys while Z unloaded the Suburban.
It was sometime on the drive back from dropping them off that I hit the wall. Perhaps it was when the Suburban driver's window wouldn't roll back up after I went through the gate. Perhaps it was when I saw that something had leaked on the front porch. Perhaps it was when I walked in and Z said we had to run back down to BIL's that night because he'd forgotten something we'd need for the shoot. I don't know. I just know that that's when I realized we were going to come apart at the seams if we didn't slow down, if only for a day. And I used my veto power on leaving the house Sunday.
We NEED rest. We NEED to put the house together. We NEED to find the school books. School, co-op, dance, everything starts Monday in earnest, and after that it'll be Life As Usual with little time for the things we really need to have squared away going into it.
Bless Z, he offered to retrieve the boys. I went to bed.
Sunday, we rest. Because you really can't do it all.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Get it done! Get it out! Make the calls! Visit the places! Corner the people! Make it feel like Home!
There has been little rest outside those glorious sunrise coffee-on-the-porch sessions (which may have been what kept me going - those are really nice!)
But I found the end of the adrenaline on Saturday night -- at 9PM, the biggest wall you've ever not seen coming hit me square in the face and I was done. I haven't been that done in ages. Oof. And on that note, I had to pull an executive veto on Sunday's plans.
The day started with an update from Granny (Z's Mom), who had called from the hospital on Friday. She's been on chemo and was feeling pretty puny, punier than seemed right, so her sister called an EMT neighbor to come take a look at her (perks of small town life). He suggested she call her doc or pop on over to Lubbock. She figured her doc would send her to Lubbock, anyway (downside to small town life - it all balances out), so off they went. Yep, her white blood cell count was way too low. They signed her in for a weekend at the spa, complete with complementary gown, fresh IV, and all the tests.
Turned out she had appendicitis! So they got her into surgery Saturday and squared away. She is doing well and her white blood cell count is already back on the rise. That's such a praise and a relief! But it was a humdinger of a day, emotionally.
John and I headed out early that morning for Day 3 of Trying to Register for Classes in Person. (Remember, he MUST be a full-time student to live on base with us.) We spent a lot of time crossing and re-crossing the "holeway" (rather than the hallway - I love that!)
It should have been a pretty straightforward thing, and we had begun the process back in July to make it go as smoothly as possible. Unfortunately, the school hadn't processed his ACT scores (which I know I personally requested and paid for back in July), and they hadn't processed his transcripts (which I know I also paid for the beginning of August and had sent as soon as the semester grades posted), so nobody in the EMS program will talk to him or return his calls.
Since he's missing both test scores and prior learning evidence, he can't register online because he's not cleared in the system as having met the pre-requisites for anything. He can't get an appointment with an EMS advisor because they don't see that he's met any of their requirements for coordinated entry. And the whole process of transferring to another school is a brand new one! Wee! For a fairly timid, quiet young man, this is like living in Munch's Scream.
He took in his NREMT certificate, high school diploma (he's got 36 college credits and is coming in as a transfer student - I'm not sure why they needed that, but they pinged him for not having it, so he provided it), and his BLS certificate. He emailed the student ACT report directly to a counselor (it doesn't count officially, but it did give her the latitude to issue overrides for prerequisites, at least), and then he scrabbled together a full-time schedule out of whatever required courses for an Associate's still have seats available ... 48 hours before the start of the semester. It's an odd semester, and two of the classes are online and don't have times posted, but it's a schedule. And he got a bus pass, so now he can get around town. Yay! He's still hoping to get in front of an EMS faculty member Monday and start getting plugged into their Paramedic program, but at least we won't have the Feds beating down our door to evict him for not being a full-time student. That was a huge relief to have taken care of.
Jacob is still actively dying. I think he's the most sensitive to altitude changes, anyway, and with the dry air, he's having 5-10 nose bleeds a day (the Ponaris should be here Monday or Tuesday). And yet, he made it to Nutcracker auditions. He says he did poorly, and he's very disappointed in himself. I don't know how he could have done more, though, really. I'm neither sick or out of sorts and I can barely get in a shower and a load of wash every day; he's had classes every day since we've been here, made the call on a studio, AND hit auditions -- on top of all the unloading, unpacking, hefting and shifting. I don't know. I'm impressed. I hope they loved him.
We ran down to BIL's house to get some things for the shoot and got to see the vineyard. These are the Sangiovese cuttings - the wee sticks they planted last fall - in the ground and growing! They're so pretty!
On the way home, I checked my phone and saw the reminder for the Regency Ball. D'oh! Noooo! I texted the boys, "Are you ready for the dance? We'll be there in 20!" (They weren't. They, too, had forgotten about it.) But they were ready to roll by the time we got home. We switched vehicles and I drove the boys while Z unloaded the Suburban.
It was sometime on the drive back from dropping them off that I hit the wall. Perhaps it was when the Suburban driver's window wouldn't roll back up after I went through the gate. Perhaps it was when I saw that something had leaked on the front porch. Perhaps it was when I walked in and Z said we had to run back down to BIL's that night because he'd forgotten something we'd need for the shoot. I don't know. I just know that that's when I realized we were going to come apart at the seams if we didn't slow down, if only for a day. And I used my veto power on leaving the house Sunday.
We NEED rest. We NEED to put the house together. We NEED to find the school books. School, co-op, dance, everything starts Monday in earnest, and after that it'll be Life As Usual with little time for the things we really need to have squared away going into it.
Bless Z, he offered to retrieve the boys. I went to bed.
Sunday, we rest. Because you really can't do it all.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Tuesday, August 28
The Good!
I mentioned that there has been so much good, and there has!
One, the weather. Z had suspected that loading a U-haul in Alabama August and unloading in New Mexico August might help soothe the souls of the uprooted. He was right. It's been absolutely gorgeous here, with light breezes and bright skies.
Bunnies! There are cottontails all around the housing areas and in the desert. They're about half the size of the ones the kids are accustomed to, and they are exponentially higher in population. If it's possible for a little girl to die from squealing in delight and tipping over every time she sees a bunny, Em may not be long for this world.
Co-op! Okay, this hasn't started yet, but the leader of the co-op has been in constant (gentle, not-pushy) communication throughout the move. She has offered help, offered prayers, and just really done such an amazing job of walking that line between keeping you in the loop and pushing so hard that you wish you'd never signed up. I cannot wait to meet this incredible woman and give her a great big, space-invading hug!
Schole! We're going to be discussing Pride & Prejudice after co-op. How's that for fabulous Mother Culture?
Family time together again! This, of course, is the biggest perk. I pulled up to the house the other day and saw the Suburban parked out front. Oh, yeah! Z can come home for lunch! How cool is that?
We'll not be able to visit a church until next Sunday. Z scheduled us to go to a silhouette shoot this last Sunday of the month. He's been looking forward to that since the day he left Alabama. There's no way we could miss it! But even that's a good thing. We get to spend the day in the mountains together, enjoying the weather, the air, the company, and the shoot!
Jacob found a new ballet studio that he is excited to join! And he was offered an apprenticeship with their Company, which thrilled his uprooted heart no end!
Parks and trails and neighbors (not the adjacent one, I don't think, but the others all seem kind).
I'm sure there's more, but the kids could hear me typing and now they're all in here, talking around me and I can't think in complete sentences. So I'm going to go listen to them chatter and ponder the many good things we have today. Together.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
One, the weather. Z had suspected that loading a U-haul in Alabama August and unloading in New Mexico August might help soothe the souls of the uprooted. He was right. It's been absolutely gorgeous here, with light breezes and bright skies.
Bunnies! There are cottontails all around the housing areas and in the desert. They're about half the size of the ones the kids are accustomed to, and they are exponentially higher in population. If it's possible for a little girl to die from squealing in delight and tipping over every time she sees a bunny, Em may not be long for this world.
Co-op! Okay, this hasn't started yet, but the leader of the co-op has been in constant (gentle, not-pushy) communication throughout the move. She has offered help, offered prayers, and just really done such an amazing job of walking that line between keeping you in the loop and pushing so hard that you wish you'd never signed up. I cannot wait to meet this incredible woman and give her a great big, space-invading hug!
Schole! We're going to be discussing Pride & Prejudice after co-op. How's that for fabulous Mother Culture?
Family time together again! This, of course, is the biggest perk. I pulled up to the house the other day and saw the Suburban parked out front. Oh, yeah! Z can come home for lunch! How cool is that?
We'll not be able to visit a church until next Sunday. Z scheduled us to go to a silhouette shoot this last Sunday of the month. He's been looking forward to that since the day he left Alabama. There's no way we could miss it! But even that's a good thing. We get to spend the day in the mountains together, enjoying the weather, the air, the company, and the shoot!
Jacob found a new ballet studio that he is excited to join! And he was offered an apprenticeship with their Company, which thrilled his uprooted heart no end!
Parks and trails and neighbors (not the adjacent one, I don't think, but the others all seem kind).
I'm sure there's more, but the kids could hear me typing and now they're all in here, talking around me and I can't think in complete sentences. So I'm going to go listen to them chatter and ponder the many good things we have today. Together.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, August 26
The Move, Days 3, 4
We were going to go to Amarillo and stay the night before heading to Uncle Bo's place on Sunday. Sometime Friday evening, though, Uncle Bo called to say it really wasn't that far from OKC to his place and that we were welcome to come on ahead and stay a couple of nights with him. So that's what we did. We pulled up at the ranch, poured out, and enjoyed two very beautiful, pastoral, comforting days with Uncle Bo.
There was so much to see and do while we were there. Em and Jase thoroughly enjoyed being able to be outside and be comfortable - they threw rocks, experimented with levers and cantilevers, roamed and wandered. We looked for arrowheads (actually, they get distracted easily, so they mostly just looked for pretty rocks, of which they found plenty, so it was a successful outing).
We walked very cautiously past the cows and the bull. We sat and enjoyed the dry air, the cool breeze, the magnificent lightning storms all around us. The kids' biggest surprise was the intensity of the sun! Although it wasn't hot out, the sun was so bright and so piercing that it caught them off guard. They rolled with it pretty well, though.
Uncle Bo shared stories and fed us pretty well, also, which we all appreciated and enjoyed. By the time we loaded up Monday morning for that last leg, we were refreshed and ready to get "home"!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, August 25
The Move, Day 2
This was the longest leg of our journey west. We drove from West Memphis to just west of Oklahoma City. It rained the whole way (not a big deal for me, but Z was driving a 26' U-haul towing a 12' trailer - I imagine he had a much different drive than I did).
The kids were going to trade off vehicles each day, but the Littles so enjoyed riding in the big truck, and the Bigs really dug being able to stretch out and play their music, that we just stuck with that configuration for the whole trip. It worked well.
Of course, I love time in the car with one or two of the kids at a time. It gets quiet, and then they talk. It's wonderful.
We wanted to get past Oklahoma City so that we could avoid the morning traffic the next day. That worked well.
We were parked in the back of the hotel, facing a Cracker Barrel. The Littles' bikes were on a bike rack on the Highlander, and we considered bringing them into the hotel, but they were secured pretty tightly and we didn't figure it would be a problem. That did not go so well. When we came out the next morning, all the straps had been cut and somebody's got two brand new bikes.
The Littles were upset, of course, but they handled it well. They thought up a few apt curses upon the thieves, but haven't dwelled on it or allowed it to ruin their trip and the move. I'm pretty proud of them for that.
Z headed out with the Littles while the rest of us stayed to give a police report. If they're found, we have someone local who will hold them for us. I haven't heard back, yet (and haven't had time to follow up), though, so I'm not feeling optimistic. Lesson learned. Expensive lesson, but at least we know it'll stick. Always take your bikes in!
At least they left the kayaks. I suppose those are harder to make a nonchalant getaway on.
Again, learn from our mistakes:
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
The kids were going to trade off vehicles each day, but the Littles so enjoyed riding in the big truck, and the Bigs really dug being able to stretch out and play their music, that we just stuck with that configuration for the whole trip. It worked well.
Of course, I love time in the car with one or two of the kids at a time. It gets quiet, and then they talk. It's wonderful.
We wanted to get past Oklahoma City so that we could avoid the morning traffic the next day. That worked well.
We were parked in the back of the hotel, facing a Cracker Barrel. The Littles' bikes were on a bike rack on the Highlander, and we considered bringing them into the hotel, but they were secured pretty tightly and we didn't figure it would be a problem. That did not go so well. When we came out the next morning, all the straps had been cut and somebody's got two brand new bikes.
The Littles were upset, of course, but they handled it well. They thought up a few apt curses upon the thieves, but haven't dwelled on it or allowed it to ruin their trip and the move. I'm pretty proud of them for that.
Z headed out with the Littles while the rest of us stayed to give a police report. If they're found, we have someone local who will hold them for us. I haven't heard back, yet (and haven't had time to follow up), though, so I'm not feeling optimistic. Lesson learned. Expensive lesson, but at least we know it'll stick. Always take your bikes in!
At least they left the kayaks. I suppose those are harder to make a nonchalant getaway on.
Again, learn from our mistakes:
ALWAYS TAKE YOUR BIKES IN!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Friday, August 24
The Move, in Retrospect
We're here, now! And it's glorious!
But let me fill you in...
We had help with the packing and loading the last two days we were in Huntsville. Wonderful people, but they wouldn't just get IN the U-haul. So we're going to have to find more (which, at the end of life, is part of the Good Stuff).
Pizza. Cold beer (not for the minors, of course). One last game of Werewolf. James was still hauling his stuff to the RV and had one more load to go as the U-haul pulled out.
I assume he got it all. I haven't had the oompf to ask. (Although he is alive and not starving, and he has wonderful people around him, so that's really all I care about. Stuff can be replaced or gone without. He, however, is irreplaceable.)
It started to rain as we pulled out of the drive, which seemed an appropriate send off.
Then it rained all the way to West Memphis, where we stopped for the night. All safe and sound! All in one piece!
So, that was Day 1.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
But let me fill you in...
We had help with the packing and loading the last two days we were in Huntsville. Wonderful people, but they wouldn't just get IN the U-haul. So we're going to have to find more (which, at the end of life, is part of the Good Stuff).
Pizza. Cold beer (not for the minors, of course). One last game of Werewolf. James was still hauling his stuff to the RV and had one more load to go as the U-haul pulled out.
I assume he got it all. I haven't had the oompf to ask. (Although he is alive and not starving, and he has wonderful people around him, so that's really all I care about. Stuff can be replaced or gone without. He, however, is irreplaceable.)
It started to rain as we pulled out of the drive, which seemed an appropriate send off.
Then it rained all the way to West Memphis, where we stopped for the night. All safe and sound! All in one piece!
So, that was Day 1.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, July 29
NREMT Certified!
John passed his NREMT certification!
But we didn't know at first.
He went to take the exam, knowing that it's adaptive, and that he needed to set aside two hours to take it. He called me after about half an hour.
"Wow! You're done? How'd it go?"
"Not great. It shut down on me after 70 questions. I'll have to try again in two weeks."
Oh. Oh, my. Well. Huh.
So when he got home, we had some tea and sympathy. He licked his wounds that night, processed a little bit. ("I don't understand it. I felt good. I didn't feel panicky. I felt confident. I hadn't hit any I didn't feel like I knew...")
The next day, he lined up some new study material - found some apps, some online practice exams, we ordered the Kaplan EMT Study Guide. He reached out to his EMS instructors to ask if they had any suggestions as to what he might do differently going forward. (Honestly, as disappointed as I was for him, I was also very proud of him for the way he responded.) He did the math, had a little queasiness thinking about retaking the exam, and then having to do 145 hours of clinicals during finals week, then he took a swig of coffee and settled in.
Over the next few days, he took many practice exams. He consistently scored 98%, 93%, 95%. Every time. This really didn't make sense. I had suggested that if he failed it the second time, we consider looking into whether he'd gotten a strong enough grip on his test anxiety, because that just ... didn't make any sense.
Tuesday morning, he headed to class. The guys in class (several of them are prior service, all are licensed EMTs, and to a man, they have all taken him in as one of theirs - I love these folks) asked him how it went. He told them that he'd failed. "Oh, man, that stinks. How long did they keep you there?" In retelling this story to me, he said there was the sound of a needle scratching on a record at that point. What? What do you mean? It kicked me out at 70.
That's when the guys told him that's usually a GOOD sign. So right there, during labs, they encouraged him to log on to his account and see if his score had posted.
He did.
He'd passed.
I do not think I have ever heard physically tangible relief in a person's voice as I did when he called to tell me. It was beautiful.
So yes, definitely don't assume anything. That would save us all a world of unnecessary worry. 😉 However, it was a wonderful opportunity for him to really look at himself in the mirror and see a man of conviction, of fortitude, of endurance. He needed that, and it was a good feeling. (Not as good as finding out he'd passed, granted, but for the long haul, it's much better to know how you respond to failure than to live with the niggling worry of an unanswered "what if I fail" gnawing at the back of your mind.)
Now he knows. If you fail, you take a deep breath, recalibrate, and try again.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
But we didn't know at first.
He went to take the exam, knowing that it's adaptive, and that he needed to set aside two hours to take it. He called me after about half an hour.
"Wow! You're done? How'd it go?"
"Not great. It shut down on me after 70 questions. I'll have to try again in two weeks."
Oh. Oh, my. Well. Huh.
So when he got home, we had some tea and sympathy. He licked his wounds that night, processed a little bit. ("I don't understand it. I felt good. I didn't feel panicky. I felt confident. I hadn't hit any I didn't feel like I knew...")
The next day, he lined up some new study material - found some apps, some online practice exams, we ordered the Kaplan EMT Study Guide. He reached out to his EMS instructors to ask if they had any suggestions as to what he might do differently going forward. (Honestly, as disappointed as I was for him, I was also very proud of him for the way he responded.) He did the math, had a little queasiness thinking about retaking the exam, and then having to do 145 hours of clinicals during finals week, then he took a swig of coffee and settled in.
Over the next few days, he took many practice exams. He consistently scored 98%, 93%, 95%. Every time. This really didn't make sense. I had suggested that if he failed it the second time, we consider looking into whether he'd gotten a strong enough grip on his test anxiety, because that just ... didn't make any sense.
Tuesday morning, he headed to class. The guys in class (several of them are prior service, all are licensed EMTs, and to a man, they have all taken him in as one of theirs - I love these folks) asked him how it went. He told them that he'd failed. "Oh, man, that stinks. How long did they keep you there?" In retelling this story to me, he said there was the sound of a needle scratching on a record at that point. What? What do you mean? It kicked me out at 70.
That's when the guys told him that's usually a GOOD sign. So right there, during labs, they encouraged him to log on to his account and see if his score had posted.
He did.
He'd passed.
I do not think I have ever heard physically tangible relief in a person's voice as I did when he called to tell me. It was beautiful.
So yes, definitely don't assume anything. That would save us all a world of unnecessary worry. 😉 However, it was a wonderful opportunity for him to really look at himself in the mirror and see a man of conviction, of fortitude, of endurance. He needed that, and it was a good feeling. (Not as good as finding out he'd passed, granted, but for the long haul, it's much better to know how you respond to failure than to live with the niggling worry of an unanswered "what if I fail" gnawing at the back of your mind.)
Now he knows. If you fail, you take a deep breath, recalibrate, and try again.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, July 25
I got my port out
The occasion was rife with puns -
Port out, Starboard home! POSH with a capitol P-O-S-H. (It's okay if you sang that in your head.)
One of the kids asked if I was no longer portable.
Z, of course, asked me later how the deportation went. (Puns are bad for a reason, folks.)
My sweet Nutty Professor son got up early to go with me. We had a lovely morning of chatting contentedly over our current reads. He let me sniff his coffee (I couldn't have anything by mouth pre-op). And then he drove me home when it was over. Acts of Mercy, right there.
Of course, he didn't understand my deep appreciation. "Of course! What was I going to do, tell you to piss off?" LOL. Well, no. I wouldn't have expected that response. However, it soothes my soul to know that you realize that would be an inappropriate response to someone's need for help, and it gladdens my heart to know that you are so willing to serve and to be present (and cheerfully present, at that) when you can give aid. So shut up and accept my heartfelt appreciation, please.
And then he misplaced the prescriptions. I get that usually you don't want to give the paperwork to the one who's recently been drugged. And the surgeon doesn't have a 19yo son, so he wouldn't know. I'm just hoping it was only for pain relief and not antibiotics... (I'll clean out the car today and look for it.)
But that's it! In two weeks or so, if I have an itch I can just scratch to my heart's content without snagging on my port. And that's rather exciting! It's the little things.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Port out, Starboard home! POSH with a capitol P-O-S-H. (It's okay if you sang that in your head.)
One of the kids asked if I was no longer portable.
Z, of course, asked me later how the deportation went. (Puns are bad for a reason, folks.)
My sweet Nutty Professor son got up early to go with me. We had a lovely morning of chatting contentedly over our current reads. He let me sniff his coffee (I couldn't have anything by mouth pre-op). And then he drove me home when it was over. Acts of Mercy, right there.
Of course, he didn't understand my deep appreciation. "Of course! What was I going to do, tell you to piss off?" LOL. Well, no. I wouldn't have expected that response. However, it soothes my soul to know that you realize that would be an inappropriate response to someone's need for help, and it gladdens my heart to know that you are so willing to serve and to be present (and cheerfully present, at that) when you can give aid. So shut up and accept my heartfelt appreciation, please.
And then he misplaced the prescriptions. I get that usually you don't want to give the paperwork to the one who's recently been drugged. And the surgeon doesn't have a 19yo son, so he wouldn't know. I'm just hoping it was only for pain relief and not antibiotics... (I'll clean out the car today and look for it.)
But that's it! In two weeks or so, if I have an itch I can just scratch to my heart's content without snagging on my port. And that's rather exciting! It's the little things.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, July 7
What Else Has Been Going On?
Once again, we have jettisoned a car with much cheering and applause.
John's Buick started blowing the upper radiator hose. Just out of nowhere it started doing it as if it had picked up a fun new hobby. He took to carrying a full took kit, complete with a magnetic tool retriever (not that it did any good - we lost four screws down there and never were able to retrieve a single one - they just fall down and disappear into another dimension), and a couple gallons of water. It had been having issues for a while, but this is the issue that ended the struggle.
I even got a little frustrated at one point and went down to put the damn hose clamp on, myself. (The Buick Rendezvous is a terrible design. Just a heads up. It's a neat car. Cool idea. Yet clearly designed by someone who hates himself, hates the world, and reserves special hatred for people who work on their own cars. I have never in my life seen such a poorly designed space.) Anyway, although John is really great at spooling up on how to fix known issues, and even though he knows how to put on a hose clamp, it just didn't make sense. I figured the lousy design was just making it harder than it had to be (which it was). But I thought at least I know that I know how to use a hose clamp and how to get a hose on properly. We could put this issue to rest, certainly.
He texted the next time he left the house. It had done it again.
At that point, we agreed it was time to give AAA towing a try. He figured it out, got the thing towed to a mechanic. The mechanic took a look at it, put the hose on, good to go.
Until he left the house again. (Always on his way to something with a defined start time. Always. Blessedly, he's been driving crappy, unreliable cars since he first got his license, so he's really good about leaving "mechanic time" in his schedule.)
This time, there was smoke. 😲
Back to the mechanic. Turned out there was a problem in the engine. Something leaking. Too much pressure. That's why it was blowing the hose. But at this point, it had gotten just warm enough just often enough that the heads had warped. Or whatever. At any rate, it needed a new engine.
Mechanic didn't want to fix it.
I didn't want to pay him to fix it. (Not what it was going to cost to replace the engine on top of the other unrelated things it also needed, like tie rods and so forth.)
James and John are cool with carpooling over the summer.
I'm even cooler with not paying insurance on another car.
So, we junked it, and hopefully the sound body and intact interior will provide some blessed surprise and joy to some other poor soul spending his time working on his Buick Rendezvous. We hope it makes someone's month when they find it there.
We're holding off on replacing it until we get moved. No point in paying registration twice, hauling it across country. Plus, he may not even need a car right off the bat. So although juggling two cars around five schedules isn't ideal, it's a nice set up. We can all ride in either of the cars if something goes awry with the other one, and nobody is getting stuck on the side of the road in the Southern Summer Weather. Win-win-win.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
John's Buick started blowing the upper radiator hose. Just out of nowhere it started doing it as if it had picked up a fun new hobby. He took to carrying a full took kit, complete with a magnetic tool retriever (not that it did any good - we lost four screws down there and never were able to retrieve a single one - they just fall down and disappear into another dimension), and a couple gallons of water. It had been having issues for a while, but this is the issue that ended the struggle.
I even got a little frustrated at one point and went down to put the damn hose clamp on, myself. (The Buick Rendezvous is a terrible design. Just a heads up. It's a neat car. Cool idea. Yet clearly designed by someone who hates himself, hates the world, and reserves special hatred for people who work on their own cars. I have never in my life seen such a poorly designed space.) Anyway, although John is really great at spooling up on how to fix known issues, and even though he knows how to put on a hose clamp, it just didn't make sense. I figured the lousy design was just making it harder than it had to be (which it was). But I thought at least I know that I know how to use a hose clamp and how to get a hose on properly. We could put this issue to rest, certainly.
He texted the next time he left the house. It had done it again.
At that point, we agreed it was time to give AAA towing a try. He figured it out, got the thing towed to a mechanic. The mechanic took a look at it, put the hose on, good to go.
Until he left the house again. (Always on his way to something with a defined start time. Always. Blessedly, he's been driving crappy, unreliable cars since he first got his license, so he's really good about leaving "mechanic time" in his schedule.)
This time, there was smoke. 😲
Back to the mechanic. Turned out there was a problem in the engine. Something leaking. Too much pressure. That's why it was blowing the hose. But at this point, it had gotten just warm enough just often enough that the heads had warped. Or whatever. At any rate, it needed a new engine.
Mechanic didn't want to fix it.
I didn't want to pay him to fix it. (Not what it was going to cost to replace the engine on top of the other unrelated things it also needed, like tie rods and so forth.)
James and John are cool with carpooling over the summer.
I'm even cooler with not paying insurance on another car.
So, we junked it, and hopefully the sound body and intact interior will provide some blessed surprise and joy to some other poor soul spending his time working on his Buick Rendezvous. We hope it makes someone's month when they find it there.
We're holding off on replacing it until we get moved. No point in paying registration twice, hauling it across country. Plus, he may not even need a car right off the bat. So although juggling two cars around five schedules isn't ideal, it's a nice set up. We can all ride in either of the cars if something goes awry with the other one, and nobody is getting stuck on the side of the road in the Southern Summer Weather. Win-win-win.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, July 1
Missing One
Jacob is off at his summer intensive, and the house is shockingly quiet. (On a tangentially related note, do you know of any robust earbuds that can survive a 14yo boy? I'm resigned at this point to replacing them every six months, but I hate the waste.)
In some ways, not much is different. We still chat about news over coffee in the mornings (yay for technology!) and he still sends me photos of cool things he finds while he's out and about. I love that part.
But he's gone. I miss seeing him spinning in the kitchen. I miss hearing his laughter when he reads something funny. I miss hanging out in the kitchen with him while we cook. I miss hearing him talk about the book he's reading or the upcoming Falcon Heavy launch. I know that's part and parcel of raising children to be autonomous, productive adults. But I sure do miss him when he's off being active.
This is the second week. It's both flying by and inching along. Time is so weird. I'll be gone when he wraps it up, and Z will get to see the performance at the end of the session. He'll enjoy that, since he missed the school sketches in May.
I do hope, though, that Jacob's up for a marathon of something ridiculous with snacks and root beer floats and hanging out in the kitchen in July.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
In some ways, not much is different. We still chat about news over coffee in the mornings (yay for technology!) and he still sends me photos of cool things he finds while he's out and about. I love that part.
But he's gone. I miss seeing him spinning in the kitchen. I miss hearing his laughter when he reads something funny. I miss hanging out in the kitchen with him while we cook. I miss hearing him talk about the book he's reading or the upcoming Falcon Heavy launch. I know that's part and parcel of raising children to be autonomous, productive adults. But I sure do miss him when he's off being active.
This is the second week. It's both flying by and inching along. Time is so weird. I'll be gone when he wraps it up, and Z will get to see the performance at the end of the session. He'll enjoy that, since he missed the school sketches in May.
I do hope, though, that Jacob's up for a marathon of something ridiculous with snacks and root beer floats and hanging out in the kitchen in July.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Tuesday, March 13
Cooking and Juggling
I've been trying to pin down the schedule so that I can catch James in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon (or any other day, I'm not picky) when we're both here, motivated, and hungry (because it's fun to make things more challenging), in the hopes of guiding him through kitchen basics.
Now, before you think, "Wait, he's how old? How does he not know how to cook?" I would like to point out that he KNEW how to cook. He did, and for several years he was a very good cook. But through either a particularly rough chemical upheaval during adolescence, or perhaps an undiagnosed brain injury, or just an increased focus on other things, he has forgotten. It's simply gone; replaced, perhaps, with philosophical inquiry, or scenes from Dumb and Dumber. I don't know. As with much of parenting, it doesn't, at this point, matter much how he forgot how to cook as it does that we remedy it. So, we've been working on that. I'm still cooking seven days a week, and I have no clue what he eats most of the time, but we've managed to get together about once a week (or once every other week, because we're both busy and disorganized) to cook together.
Last Sunday, I made beef enchiladas and he worked alongside me, making a keto version of the same thing. He did a fabulous job. They were delicious and beautiful! Then he ate them all in just a couple of sittings, and there went my plan for him to have ready made food to eat at his place. Next time, we'll double the recipe!
So, since we're often scattered to the winds during the week, we need quick foods, or foods that can be eaten on the go. Since we're all busily engaged in the work of learning, doing, and living, we need foods that are nourishing and that support our endeavors. And, since there are roughly eight billion of us, we need foods we can afford (which means not eating out, even if we find a place that meets the first two requirements!)
This has become my favorite go-to for quick meals on the go:
I found the recipe here, at FlavCity. They do a lot of Starbucks replications in low-carb versions, which is fun (and dangerous - I have an unrepentant sweet tooth)! So far, everything we've tried from this site has been delicious and easy. Kudos to their team for putting together a great resource!
I will readily admit (and those who know me would think I was lying if I didn't just come out with it) that I don't always follow the recipe. This one is very forgiving of additions and slight alterations. (So, if you don't have gruyere, you can use apple smoked cheddar, asiago, Lustenberger (which tastes very earthy and bakes up nicely), or straight up shredded cheddar from Costco. Seriously, use what you have and eat it like you meant it. Life is better that way.
John hates the taste and flavor of cheese and cheese products, so I add jalapenos and cracked black pepper to his. If all he tastes is HOT, then he's a happy camper. It's our unspoken agreement. Well, either that, or he's going to move out and never eat here again. I'm not sure. But he knows he's loved, so there is that.
In the meantime, I've also been thinking up meal options for a dear older lady so that I can cook for her. She's dairy-free, and it was at this point that I realized I cannot just make extra of what we eat and share it with her. We eat a LOT of cheese! Never have I been so thankful that none of us is lactose intolerant in my life! Wowsa! I'm drawing a lot of blanks on that one, and about thisclose to buying diary-free cheese ("cheese"?) to see if our recipes are adaptable for her.
I hope you try something new this week! And I hope it helps you juggle what you've got going on!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Now, before you think, "Wait, he's how old? How does he not know how to cook?" I would like to point out that he KNEW how to cook. He did, and for several years he was a very good cook. But through either a particularly rough chemical upheaval during adolescence, or perhaps an undiagnosed brain injury, or just an increased focus on other things, he has forgotten. It's simply gone; replaced, perhaps, with philosophical inquiry, or scenes from Dumb and Dumber. I don't know. As with much of parenting, it doesn't, at this point, matter much how he forgot how to cook as it does that we remedy it. So, we've been working on that. I'm still cooking seven days a week, and I have no clue what he eats most of the time, but we've managed to get together about once a week (or once every other week, because we're both busy and disorganized) to cook together.
Last Sunday, I made beef enchiladas and he worked alongside me, making a keto version of the same thing. He did a fabulous job. They were delicious and beautiful! Then he ate them all in just a couple of sittings, and there went my plan for him to have ready made food to eat at his place. Next time, we'll double the recipe!
So, since we're often scattered to the winds during the week, we need quick foods, or foods that can be eaten on the go. Since we're all busily engaged in the work of learning, doing, and living, we need foods that are nourishing and that support our endeavors. And, since there are roughly eight billion of us, we need foods we can afford (which means not eating out, even if we find a place that meets the first two requirements!)
This has become my favorite go-to for quick meals on the go:
I found the recipe here, at FlavCity. They do a lot of Starbucks replications in low-carb versions, which is fun (and dangerous - I have an unrepentant sweet tooth)! So far, everything we've tried from this site has been delicious and easy. Kudos to their team for putting together a great resource!
I will readily admit (and those who know me would think I was lying if I didn't just come out with it) that I don't always follow the recipe. This one is very forgiving of additions and slight alterations. (So, if you don't have gruyere, you can use apple smoked cheddar, asiago, Lustenberger (which tastes very earthy and bakes up nicely), or straight up shredded cheddar from Costco. Seriously, use what you have and eat it like you meant it. Life is better that way.
John hates the taste and flavor of cheese and cheese products, so I add jalapenos and cracked black pepper to his. If all he tastes is HOT, then he's a happy camper. It's our unspoken agreement. Well, either that, or he's going to move out and never eat here again. I'm not sure. But he knows he's loved, so there is that.
In the meantime, I've also been thinking up meal options for a dear older lady so that I can cook for her. She's dairy-free, and it was at this point that I realized I cannot just make extra of what we eat and share it with her. We eat a LOT of cheese! Never have I been so thankful that none of us is lactose intolerant in my life! Wowsa! I'm drawing a lot of blanks on that one, and about thisclose to buying diary-free cheese ("cheese"?) to see if our recipes are adaptable for her.
I hope you try something new this week! And I hope it helps you juggle what you've got going on!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, January 28
Go For It
Jacob wants to attend a summer program for dance. If you're serious about your dance, this appears to be someone non-negotiable. Okay. We can do that.
Turns out, audition season starts right-the-immediate-hell-after-New-Years. Or, more importantly, hot on the heels of Nutcracker season. So that's like surviving a typhoon only to head straight into tornado country. It's probably not that bad once you already know the rhythm, but if you're new, it's exhausting, confusing, a little stressful, and rather expensive.
Learning about this process is like trying to get a straight answer out of Lindsay Bluth. I don't know how they know these things, or where they learned about them. Other people do seem to know where they want to go; we only know that there are places to go. We've researched and read, we've checked FAQs and found ballet blogs and websites. It's all still clear as mud.
"Where does Jacob want to go?"
"Somewhere that'll take him ... You know, I'm glad you asked. Which programs are good?"
"It depends on the child."
"Uh ... It's Jacob. You've met him. Where would you recommend?"
"It depends on what he wants."
"Okay, he would love to find X,Y,Z."
"It really depends on the program."
"Okay, we'd like A, B, C."
"It'll really depend on the instructor."
Huh? I've put in nearly 100 hours researching this, and I am no closer to having a clue what I'm doing now than I was in December.
Also, I realize it's terribly gauche to talk about money, but I'll be honest, if I had a spare $4K-$9K lying around, we'd be doing something Very Different at the moment than working every spare minute, driving on bald tires. So, in my world, that's a thing. And it's a thing that really must be discussed before commitments can be made. (We found several places that will allow students to apply for scholarships after they've auditioned, been accepted, committed to attending the program, and paid a $500 non-refundable deposit. Clearly, those are not schools that would be a good fit for us. So, I guess I have learned at least something so far.)
He's only been dancing for a year, so he's not highly competitive. We get that. However, you don't get any better if you don't push yourself and try. At least, that seems to be his approach. Bless him. So, there were two auditions this weekend in Atlanta. But I worked all day Saturday, Z is in New Mexico, and the Volvo is still on lockdown because it can't be trusted not to kill people. That leaves one vehicle, which really needed to be with John, at home, in case the Littles blew something up or jumped off the roof, or ... I don't know. I mean, they're actually the least likely to ever do anything dangerous, but I'd rather they have guidance and a ride to the ER on hand and never need it than for them to need it and not have it. So. There we were. A willing and eager student and no way to get to Atlanta.
I ran through the moms-of-boys at the school, and nobody I had contact information for was going. (Which, really, ought to have been a clue that this was going to be a gnarly couple of auditions, but have I mentioned we're new here?) So I started poking the few moms-of-girls I have contact info for. A dear, sweet friend offered him a place to stay in Atlanta and a ride to auditions (or we could have even Ubered), so he only needed to get TO Atlanta. Again, nobody was going.
Then I found one. She and her daughter were leaving that day, right after lunch. Could he make it in time?
Yes, yes he could. (NOW we're in familiar territory! If I know how to make something happen, I can make it happen in record time. That's one of my gifts. Thank you, Lord!) We made a mad dash around town to get his photos printed, snag fresh t-shirts, and switch out a pair of tights. (I'd bought him a replacement pair last week, thinking I was so on the ball -- but no, Body Wrappers tights are sized VERY differently than Capezio. So differently. That was awkward.) Pointe Dancewear, in Madison, however, is the most magnificent place to get dance gear. I am very thankful for them.
Home to pack, and they were off.
He did it. I don't know how he did. I plied him with questions (like I do) and he refused to talk about it until he's eaten and slept (like he does). All he was willing to say was, "Turns out those are the two hardest programs out there." Oh. Oops. I'll probably hear more this week.
Regardless of what the schools thought of him, though, he now has two auditions under his belt. He's not completely new at this. He knows a little better what to expect. He knows what he can do. He knows what they want. He has some better ideas, now, and that's so good.
So now we know a little more than we did before. See? We're learning!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Turns out, audition season starts right-the-immediate-hell-after-New-Years. Or, more importantly, hot on the heels of Nutcracker season. So that's like surviving a typhoon only to head straight into tornado country. It's probably not that bad once you already know the rhythm, but if you're new, it's exhausting, confusing, a little stressful, and rather expensive.
Learning about this process is like trying to get a straight answer out of Lindsay Bluth. I don't know how they know these things, or where they learned about them. Other people do seem to know where they want to go; we only know that there are places to go. We've researched and read, we've checked FAQs and found ballet blogs and websites. It's all still clear as mud.
"Where does Jacob want to go?"
"Somewhere that'll take him ... You know, I'm glad you asked. Which programs are good?"
"It depends on the child."
"Uh ... It's Jacob. You've met him. Where would you recommend?"
"It depends on what he wants."
"Okay, he would love to find X,Y,Z."
"It really depends on the program."
"Okay, we'd like A, B, C."
"It'll really depend on the instructor."
Huh? I've put in nearly 100 hours researching this, and I am no closer to having a clue what I'm doing now than I was in December.
Also, I realize it's terribly gauche to talk about money, but I'll be honest, if I had a spare $4K-$9K lying around, we'd be doing something Very Different at the moment than working every spare minute, driving on bald tires. So, in my world, that's a thing. And it's a thing that really must be discussed before commitments can be made. (We found several places that will allow students to apply for scholarships after they've auditioned, been accepted, committed to attending the program, and paid a $500 non-refundable deposit. Clearly, those are not schools that would be a good fit for us. So, I guess I have learned at least something so far.)
He's only been dancing for a year, so he's not highly competitive. We get that. However, you don't get any better if you don't push yourself and try. At least, that seems to be his approach. Bless him. So, there were two auditions this weekend in Atlanta. But I worked all day Saturday, Z is in New Mexico, and the Volvo is still on lockdown because it can't be trusted not to kill people. That leaves one vehicle, which really needed to be with John, at home, in case the Littles blew something up or jumped off the roof, or ... I don't know. I mean, they're actually the least likely to ever do anything dangerous, but I'd rather they have guidance and a ride to the ER on hand and never need it than for them to need it and not have it. So. There we were. A willing and eager student and no way to get to Atlanta.
I ran through the moms-of-boys at the school, and nobody I had contact information for was going. (Which, really, ought to have been a clue that this was going to be a gnarly couple of auditions, but have I mentioned we're new here?) So I started poking the few moms-of-girls I have contact info for. A dear, sweet friend offered him a place to stay in Atlanta and a ride to auditions (or we could have even Ubered), so he only needed to get TO Atlanta. Again, nobody was going.
Then I found one. She and her daughter were leaving that day, right after lunch. Could he make it in time?
Yes, yes he could. (NOW we're in familiar territory! If I know how to make something happen, I can make it happen in record time. That's one of my gifts. Thank you, Lord!) We made a mad dash around town to get his photos printed, snag fresh t-shirts, and switch out a pair of tights. (I'd bought him a replacement pair last week, thinking I was so on the ball -- but no, Body Wrappers tights are sized VERY differently than Capezio. So differently. That was awkward.) Pointe Dancewear, in Madison, however, is the most magnificent place to get dance gear. I am very thankful for them.
Home to pack, and they were off.
He did it. I don't know how he did. I plied him with questions (like I do) and he refused to talk about it until he's eaten and slept (like he does). All he was willing to say was, "Turns out those are the two hardest programs out there." Oh. Oops. I'll probably hear more this week.
Regardless of what the schools thought of him, though, he now has two auditions under his belt. He's not completely new at this. He knows a little better what to expect. He knows what he can do. He knows what they want. He has some better ideas, now, and that's so good.
So now we know a little more than we did before. See? We're learning!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, January 20
The Birthday Outing
So, it was 11 degrees on Em's birthday. Not inside, obviously, (thankfully) but just knowing it's that cold has an impact. We didn't even get dressed until noon. So, the manicure and the lunch with the boys will have to wait.
BUT, we did go out that day, and we fed her little heart.
First, we went to Anthropologie. I don't shop there. Mainly, because I have very little money. And I have to explain what I've done with it, which would be very hard to do if I spent the entire grocery budget on a throw pillow and a new coffee mug. However, I knew that it would satisfy an aspect of her heart to just BE in that environment. To see things that were designed with an aesthetic that she appreciates. To touch fabrics you don't find at Target or Kohl's, and to peer into designs that are inspired by something bigger than things close to home. To be inspired by what can be done when you have a vision.
We were there for an hour and a half, folks. An hour and a half in a tiny store, and she was not bored for a second. She was awed, and she was thrilled, and she was just quietly enthralled. I followed her around, letting her explain everything to me.
"Mom, feel this bead pattern, now feel this one. See how they feel different?" (For the record, no. My hands are calloused and I hadn't thawed out from the walk to the store yet. But I listened, and smiled, because she was showing me how she experiences the world.)
"Oh, look how they get different results with different knots. Also, they used knots. That's brilliant."
"Ohhhhh, squeeze this. Just grab it in your hands. Isn't that fantastic?"
"We need to find out where you can get this fabric and make one of these."
"Did you touch that plate? You should. It's amazing."
She comes to a dead stop. "Sniff, right here. Do you smell that? What is that?" So we sniffed around and couldn't find the source. We asked an employee to help us find it. She couldn't, either. We have no idea what we were smelling, but it was Stop You In Your Tracks lovely.
Then, we headed to Justice, where she got what I can only describe as her Tween Uniform.
It's adorable. Blessedly, they have a lot of decent, cute stuff this year. It's not an Anthropologie wardrobe, but it works. The ladies who work there were so kind and fun. They made the visit enjoyable. She got a water bottle that the boys won't steal and lose. She got some leggings and some t-shirts. We laughed and poked around. It was a very different vibe, but just as fun.
And now, she is 12. Gosh.
I haven't said it in a while, because (obviously) they aren't babies anymore, but still ...
Kiss those babies!
~ Dy
BUT, we did go out that day, and we fed her little heart.
First, we went to Anthropologie. I don't shop there. Mainly, because I have very little money. And I have to explain what I've done with it, which would be very hard to do if I spent the entire grocery budget on a throw pillow and a new coffee mug. However, I knew that it would satisfy an aspect of her heart to just BE in that environment. To see things that were designed with an aesthetic that she appreciates. To touch fabrics you don't find at Target or Kohl's, and to peer into designs that are inspired by something bigger than things close to home. To be inspired by what can be done when you have a vision.
We were there for an hour and a half, folks. An hour and a half in a tiny store, and she was not bored for a second. She was awed, and she was thrilled, and she was just quietly enthralled. I followed her around, letting her explain everything to me.
"Mom, feel this bead pattern, now feel this one. See how they feel different?" (For the record, no. My hands are calloused and I hadn't thawed out from the walk to the store yet. But I listened, and smiled, because she was showing me how she experiences the world.)
"Oh, look how they get different results with different knots. Also, they used knots. That's brilliant."
"Ohhhhh, squeeze this. Just grab it in your hands. Isn't that fantastic?"
"We need to find out where you can get this fabric and make one of these."
"Did you touch that plate? You should. It's amazing."
She comes to a dead stop. "Sniff, right here. Do you smell that? What is that?" So we sniffed around and couldn't find the source. We asked an employee to help us find it. She couldn't, either. We have no idea what we were smelling, but it was Stop You In Your Tracks lovely.
Then, we headed to Justice, where she got what I can only describe as her Tween Uniform.
It's adorable. Blessedly, they have a lot of decent, cute stuff this year. It's not an Anthropologie wardrobe, but it works. The ladies who work there were so kind and fun. They made the visit enjoyable. She got a water bottle that the boys won't steal and lose. She got some leggings and some t-shirts. We laughed and poked around. It was a very different vibe, but just as fun.
And now, she is 12. Gosh.
I haven't said it in a while, because (obviously) they aren't babies anymore, but still ...
Kiss those babies!
~ Dy
Monday, January 15
Birthday Ideas
I've accidentally published this post twice without meaning to because the pads of my hands keep bumping the little track pad on my laptop, tabbing me all over the place, one spot of which seems to be the Publish button. I need a little pad protector to put on it so that I can type without having to worry about my fat hands engaging that pad. (James would say I need to install Linux, which has a two-second delay before the thing activates, or something like that. I am almost there ...)
Anyway, with Em's birthday coming up, I started pestering her for ideas back in August. Because that's how you have to do with the gentle thinkers. You can't just hit them up at Costco the day of and say, "What do you want to do today? Sky's the limit!" They freeze, and you end up buying them an .89 bladder buster and a 30-roll pack of paper towels. I learned this the hard way.
After much mulling and thinking (seriously - it was January before she got back to me on most of this), she decided she'd like to get her ears pierced, get a manicure (she's hoping this will help her not bite her nails), go to lunch with the boys, and redo her room.
So, we started putting a plan in action. She got her ears pierced this weekend.
I've no clue on the manicure, and haven't had the bandwidth to track that down, but I'll do that today. Lunch with the boys will be at the 88. That's where they eat. It's what they do. It's their thing. It's also the only place in town you can get spicy squid, which is Very Important to Jase. (And? All this time, I had no idea they had a website. That's so cool!)
Her room is functional, but it's a mash-up of Stuff Her Brothers Didn't Want, Stuff She's Duct Taped or Sewn, and then things that usually began with, "Oh, crap, you probably need sheets (shelves, hangers, etc.), don't you?" So, it's functional, but other than the constant craft debris littering the floor, you'd never guess anyone lived there on purpose. She wanted to fix that.
She's been going through it, fixing up what she can with what we had on hand (this isn't as sad as it sounds - we have a lot on hand) and making a list of what she'll need. She's been making little changes, such as snagging a mint green sheet from the linen closet to go with her pink bedding, hanging lights above the window shades, adding pastels here and there, hanging drawings on the walls.
She asked if we can paint her bookshelf white with pink, yellow and blue distressed spots. (I said yes before I realized we were actually going to have Winter this year. We have to paint in the garage or outside, so she may be able to do that for Easter. Or Memorial Day. It's not happening on her actual birthday, though.)
Last week, she asked if she could "do something about that sad brown lamp shade". Of course. Good thing she'd asked for "virtually unlimited duct tape" and "gel pens of my very own" for Christmas! It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I only recently realized that what she really asked for for her birthday was to be left alone to craft. LOL! Clever girl. So that's what we shall do for her birthday - give her glue and stay out of the way. It's how she knows she's loved.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Anyway, with Em's birthday coming up, I started pestering her for ideas back in August. Because that's how you have to do with the gentle thinkers. You can't just hit them up at Costco the day of and say, "What do you want to do today? Sky's the limit!" They freeze, and you end up buying them an .89 bladder buster and a 30-roll pack of paper towels. I learned this the hard way.
After much mulling and thinking (seriously - it was January before she got back to me on most of this), she decided she'd like to get her ears pierced, get a manicure (she's hoping this will help her not bite her nails), go to lunch with the boys, and redo her room.
So, we started putting a plan in action. She got her ears pierced this weekend.
I've no clue on the manicure, and haven't had the bandwidth to track that down, but I'll do that today. Lunch with the boys will be at the 88. That's where they eat. It's what they do. It's their thing. It's also the only place in town you can get spicy squid, which is Very Important to Jase. (And? All this time, I had no idea they had a website. That's so cool!)
Her room is functional, but it's a mash-up of Stuff Her Brothers Didn't Want, Stuff She's Duct Taped or Sewn, and then things that usually began with, "Oh, crap, you probably need sheets (shelves, hangers, etc.), don't you?" So, it's functional, but other than the constant craft debris littering the floor, you'd never guess anyone lived there on purpose. She wanted to fix that.
She's been going through it, fixing up what she can with what we had on hand (this isn't as sad as it sounds - we have a lot on hand) and making a list of what she'll need. She's been making little changes, such as snagging a mint green sheet from the linen closet to go with her pink bedding, hanging lights above the window shades, adding pastels here and there, hanging drawings on the walls.
She asked if we can paint her bookshelf white with pink, yellow and blue distressed spots. (I said yes before I realized we were actually going to have Winter this year. We have to paint in the garage or outside, so she may be able to do that for Easter. Or Memorial Day. It's not happening on her actual birthday, though.)
Last week, she asked if she could "do something about that sad brown lamp shade". Of course. Good thing she'd asked for "virtually unlimited duct tape" and "gel pens of my very own" for Christmas! It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I only recently realized that what she really asked for for her birthday was to be left alone to craft. LOL! Clever girl. So that's what we shall do for her birthday - give her glue and stay out of the way. It's how she knows she's loved.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, January 10
New Terms, New Plans
Sometimes, these kids are so my kids. Jacob got on it over Christmas break and did all the school work he didn't get done during the fall. This included reading Aeschylus' trilogy, and getting through two of the three Oedipus plays. He got half way through Antigone, but didn't wrap it up before ballet started back up (so that may not be finished until Easter, now). He even pulled off some great note taking and good discussion. I do get it, and I empathize. But there's a reason I don't have a degree yet. (Aside from the whole, "Oh! I know! Let's have children!" thing.) Now, though, if he could only do that, spread out over the term, I could probably relax and breathe a little. When you're in college, you don't get to complete your work and turn it in after finals week ... Maybe I should have James take him out for coffee and a little brotherly Come to Jesus about timeliness?
Meanwhile, everyone's new semesters have begun!
John's back at it, and this is going to be a pivotal term for him. In order to qualify for the Paramedic program that starts in the Summer term, he's got to nail this one with a good score, even from the Russian judge. Not just doing what he needs to do to pass the National Registry exam in June, but he's got to pass this Bio 201 class. He had to get a waiver from the Dean and the Dual Enrollment coordinator to take it while still in high school, and he had to promise the Dean that he's not going to try to hold down a job while juggling clinicals and this course. So. No pressure, there. Go get it, kiddo! You can do this!
I hate having so much on the line for a 17yo, but he's braced for it and looking forward to it. It seems ... dumb to discourage a young person from taking on a challenge he's looking forward to, so I'm in Smile-Nod-and-Feed mode. I think he can do it. And if it doesn't work, he'll be better off for the effort and we'll make a Plan B. This is how life works, right? The key is to keep moving, keep learning, and not give up.
James came in the other day and announced he'd added a macroeconomics class to his schedule for the Spring. "It sounded fun." He and I have very different ideas about what a fun semester looks like. But again, he's doing what he loves and braced for the challenge. He wants to graduate as quickly as possible so he can get hired on full time where he is. He's happy, productive, and headed in a good direction. I can't complain. I can get a little queasy, but I can't actually complain.
Now, to convince Jacob to actually do some work between now and Cinderella ... right? Wish me luck!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Meanwhile, everyone's new semesters have begun!
John's back at it, and this is going to be a pivotal term for him. In order to qualify for the Paramedic program that starts in the Summer term, he's got to nail this one with a good score, even from the Russian judge. Not just doing what he needs to do to pass the National Registry exam in June, but he's got to pass this Bio 201 class. He had to get a waiver from the Dean and the Dual Enrollment coordinator to take it while still in high school, and he had to promise the Dean that he's not going to try to hold down a job while juggling clinicals and this course. So. No pressure, there. Go get it, kiddo! You can do this!
I hate having so much on the line for a 17yo, but he's braced for it and looking forward to it. It seems ... dumb to discourage a young person from taking on a challenge he's looking forward to, so I'm in Smile-Nod-and-Feed mode. I think he can do it. And if it doesn't work, he'll be better off for the effort and we'll make a Plan B. This is how life works, right? The key is to keep moving, keep learning, and not give up.
James came in the other day and announced he'd added a macroeconomics class to his schedule for the Spring. "It sounded fun." He and I have very different ideas about what a fun semester looks like. But again, he's doing what he loves and braced for the challenge. He wants to graduate as quickly as possible so he can get hired on full time where he is. He's happy, productive, and headed in a good direction. I can't complain. I can get a little queasy, but I can't actually complain.
Now, to convince Jacob to actually do some work between now and Cinderella ... right? Wish me luck!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Monday, January 8
Five Minutes Until I Go
James got up early to air up the tire in the Highlander for me before I leave this morning. That is such a gift! I know he probably doesn't think so, but it is. (The tire's got a slow leak that's just this side of the tread, so they can't legally plug it. *Cue grouchy old lady noises, "In my day..." *waves cane*) But anyway, it's on the payday list of Stuff That Needs Attending - which is not nearly as much fun to make as, say Grocery Lists, or Birthday Lists, but it's very important.)
**************************************************************************
And then, I had to go. Spent too much time sipping coffee instead of typing, I guess.
That was Friday morning? Saturday? I don't remember. But now it's Sunday night. The week is over. We made it. I am so stinking proud of these kids. They're rolling into the Spring semester with gusto, and they've made this single parenting gig a relative cake walk. It's still about zero fun, but at least it's not a logistical nightmare, as well.
The house is freakishly quiet, and cold. I should go to bed, but I don't want to climb into a chilly bed. Should have asked for a hot water bottle or an electric blanket for Christmas.
Between the move and the job, The Nutcracker and the flu, we never made it to the beach house to see The Aunts. That made me inordinately sad. Then, Aunt B texted to say they were on their way home and planned to swing by! Oh, I'm so glad! We'll made some delicious food, and crack open some delicious wine, and visit. I can't wait to hear about their winter beach adventures!
On that note, though, I have got to get to bed. Sundays are long sometimes. I should sleep well.
Be encouraged!
Dy
**************************************************************************
And then, I had to go. Spent too much time sipping coffee instead of typing, I guess.
That was Friday morning? Saturday? I don't remember. But now it's Sunday night. The week is over. We made it. I am so stinking proud of these kids. They're rolling into the Spring semester with gusto, and they've made this single parenting gig a relative cake walk. It's still about zero fun, but at least it's not a logistical nightmare, as well.
The house is freakishly quiet, and cold. I should go to bed, but I don't want to climb into a chilly bed. Should have asked for a hot water bottle or an electric blanket for Christmas.
Between the move and the job, The Nutcracker and the flu, we never made it to the beach house to see The Aunts. That made me inordinately sad. Then, Aunt B texted to say they were on their way home and planned to swing by! Oh, I'm so glad! We'll made some delicious food, and crack open some delicious wine, and visit. I can't wait to hear about their winter beach adventures!
On that note, though, I have got to get to bed. Sundays are long sometimes. I should sleep well.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Friday, January 5
Some days start earlier than others ...
I grabbed a transcription file yesterday - a nice, long, difficult one, since I didn't have any outside work coming up, and I figured I could work on it at my leisure throughout the day and really make sure it was tight. I love that feeling, when you know you've done a job spot on. It wasn't due until 11 today, so that was perfect.
Then I got a text last night - can I fill in a shift for someone who can't make it in the morning? Of course I can. (This is a really wonderful position, working with a truly delightful lady, and I am so thankful for having these beautiful people in our life.)
About an hour later, it hit me. I just bumped my transcription deadline up by four hours because I'd have to leave the house by 7:00. 😨 Well, that wasn't particularly brilliant. What can I say? I'm new at this.
So after dinner, I tasked the children with putting the living space to rights before they turned in, and I slipped off to bed super early. I was up and wide awake this morning at 2:30, and was able to finish the job and submit it in time to leave for work!
I need a GIF for that. It's definitely more Mr. Magoo than Wonder Woman, but you know, mostly it's about appreciation for having opportunities and being able to find ways to make things work, honor our commitments, and live a rich, healthy life.
What absolutely made my day, though, was getting texts from the older boys. "Do you mind if I take the Littles to Skate Day?" and "I'm taking Jacob to the movie." Oh! Well done, boys! Wow.
Got home to find John studying, and the house picked up. That's like Second Christmas for a mom!
So, to celebrate, we're sitting very still and not moving for a little bit. Just taking stock of the good things in the day ... It got above freezing for a few minutes today. That was exciting. (It's about to dip way back down, though, so the faucets are staying on.) ... Z is doing well - we talked this morning and he described the Sandias in the morning sunlight - I can't wait to see that again! ... School is back up and running, ballet, theater, Bible study ... There's coffee. (It's a little thing, but it's a thing, and I appreciate it.)
Not every season is going to be easy. Sometimes the seasons that you think will do you in turn out to be the easiest of the challenging parts of your life, and you'd love to go back and do them again with the knowledge you have currently. (It's like doing 1st grade math when you're in 6th grade, and you laugh and laugh that you'd been so frustrated when you first learned it. If you do find yourself feeling like that, wishing for the exhaustion of toddlers, or the "busyness" of playdates and field trips to the zoo, give yourself some kudos for having come far enough to do that. That's good stuff. You've got this.) And then, take stock of the good things. They're there in plenty.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Then I got a text last night - can I fill in a shift for someone who can't make it in the morning? Of course I can. (This is a really wonderful position, working with a truly delightful lady, and I am so thankful for having these beautiful people in our life.)
About an hour later, it hit me. I just bumped my transcription deadline up by four hours because I'd have to leave the house by 7:00. 😨 Well, that wasn't particularly brilliant. What can I say? I'm new at this.
So after dinner, I tasked the children with putting the living space to rights before they turned in, and I slipped off to bed super early. I was up and wide awake this morning at 2:30, and was able to finish the job and submit it in time to leave for work!
I need a GIF for that. It's definitely more Mr. Magoo than Wonder Woman, but you know, mostly it's about appreciation for having opportunities and being able to find ways to make things work, honor our commitments, and live a rich, healthy life.
What absolutely made my day, though, was getting texts from the older boys. "Do you mind if I take the Littles to Skate Day?" and "I'm taking Jacob to the movie." Oh! Well done, boys! Wow.
Got home to find John studying, and the house picked up. That's like Second Christmas for a mom!
So, to celebrate, we're sitting very still and not moving for a little bit. Just taking stock of the good things in the day ... It got above freezing for a few minutes today. That was exciting. (It's about to dip way back down, though, so the faucets are staying on.) ... Z is doing well - we talked this morning and he described the Sandias in the morning sunlight - I can't wait to see that again! ... School is back up and running, ballet, theater, Bible study ... There's coffee. (It's a little thing, but it's a thing, and I appreciate it.)
Not every season is going to be easy. Sometimes the seasons that you think will do you in turn out to be the easiest of the challenging parts of your life, and you'd love to go back and do them again with the knowledge you have currently. (It's like doing 1st grade math when you're in 6th grade, and you laugh and laugh that you'd been so frustrated when you first learned it. If you do find yourself feeling like that, wishing for the exhaustion of toddlers, or the "busyness" of playdates and field trips to the zoo, give yourself some kudos for having come far enough to do that. That's good stuff. You've got this.) And then, take stock of the good things. They're there in plenty.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Thursday, January 4
They know me so well!
If you've got your sense of humor, you stand a good chance of keeping your health. I firmly believe this. And so, evidently, do my older children ...
This was one of my favorite gifts this Christmas. Not only because we desperately need magnets that don't fall off if you swing the refrigerator door too enthusiastically, but because it made me laugh. The last seven or eight weeks have been mentally hectic, butt-puckeringly scary, and in general, really, really hard.
Not too hard for God, which is great, but definitely too hard for me. And the kids haven't ever actually seen me admit that there's something I'm not sure I can do. But they have now. And they've stepped up. I mean, they're still kids, and when you're a kid, offering to share your coin jar to help with groceries, or volunteering to share your fuzzy blanket seems a lot more satisfying than, say, clearing your spot after dinner, or doing the chores without being prompted, or maybe even just not nattering at your siblings for hours on end so that Mom can work. So, they haven't really felt that my requests were sane, or truly helpful, but they've shrugged and exchanged eye rolling glances, then stepped up and tried to contribute to the sense of overall peace and productivity that we needed in the house. So that's been pretty fantastic.
And no, I have not taken to drinking heavily. But I've joked about it. And John knew just what would make me laugh out loud. I'm so glad he ran with it.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, January 3
The Nutcracker
Well, THIS was exciting. A year ago, Jacob sat in the farthest row of the highest balcony at the Von Braun Center and watched, mesmerized, as The Nutcracker played out before us. He leaned forward, spellbound, the entire performance, but particularly watching the men's parts - the Nutcracker Prince, the Rat King, the dolls. He was captivated by the power and strength of the dancers. When he asked if he could do that, we had no idea that this December would find him backstage, preparing for his own parts.
All week, he kept whispering at random, "This is what started it all. And I'm here." He was in a bit of a dream world.
He gave his all to every role. As a Party Teen, he was so exuberant and festive. He was so, so great with the little ones on stage. He was a delight to watch.
As a gypsy, he was beautiful and vibrant. I got to watch from the wings one night when he danced that part, and the look on his face as he landed in the final position ... I will carry that image with me to my grave. I've never seen him look so happy, so at home (and this is a kid who is at home in most any setting, so that's saying something).
As half of the dragon, he was entertaining and delightful.
But most of all, he was kind, considerate, and engaged. He even goofed around with me a little bit!
The atmosphere backstage of a Huntsville Ballet Company production is one of the most professional, courteous, and team-driven endeavors I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. (I got to help, too, which was fabulous. Everyone should help backstage at least once, just to appreciate what goes into making the magic happen when the curtain goes up.) I could not have been more proud of him, or more pleased with where he is. They're a good fit, and I'm thankful for that.
For all the things we wish we could go back and do differently, or do better, I really feel like we've hit the sweet spot in encouraging them to pursue excellence, and to work hard at what they love. It's one thing to dream, but it's another to put your effort and hard work into achieving it. That's huge, and I am so thankful that he's doing just that.
Be encouraged!
Dy
All week, he kept whispering at random, "This is what started it all. And I'm here." He was in a bit of a dream world.
He gave his all to every role. As a Party Teen, he was so exuberant and festive. He was so, so great with the little ones on stage. He was a delight to watch.
As a gypsy, he was beautiful and vibrant. I got to watch from the wings one night when he danced that part, and the look on his face as he landed in the final position ... I will carry that image with me to my grave. I've never seen him look so happy, so at home (and this is a kid who is at home in most any setting, so that's saying something).
As half of the dragon, he was entertaining and delightful.
But most of all, he was kind, considerate, and engaged. He even goofed around with me a little bit!
The atmosphere backstage of a Huntsville Ballet Company production is one of the most professional, courteous, and team-driven endeavors I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. (I got to help, too, which was fabulous. Everyone should help backstage at least once, just to appreciate what goes into making the magic happen when the curtain goes up.) I could not have been more proud of him, or more pleased with where he is. They're a good fit, and I'm thankful for that.
For all the things we wish we could go back and do differently, or do better, I really feel like we've hit the sweet spot in encouraging them to pursue excellence, and to work hard at what they love. It's one thing to dream, but it's another to put your effort and hard work into achieving it. That's huge, and I am so thankful that he's doing just that.
Be encouraged!
Dy
Sunday, August 27
It's like Military Maneuvers
... if your military were staffed by clowns and hippies.
We pulled into the parking lot with one minute until prayer began. The car doors were flying open before the thing was in park, and I heard from somewhere in the back, "All right, troops, move, move, MOVE!"
I clambered out, gathered my things, and was formulating a response when I heard, "Or, you know, eventually. That works, too." It was John, who was standing there, holding the door open as the little moved ever so slowly toward the door, chatting, gathering their things, putting on their shoes.
I stifled a laugh and grabbed the rest of my things.
That one little interaction pretty much summed up our Sunday mornings. We may have grand plans and ambitions, but we're only going to move as quickly as our least-focused cadet. And yet, we made it without any yelling, or making anyone cry. Sometimes there's a bit of resignation, though.
I do wish I were a more consistent photo taker. Jase was wearing shorts and big, heavy shoes, and he just exuded Christopher Robin. It was precious and wonderful and made me smile every time he scampered off somewhere. I hope he's the one who picks my clothes for me when I'm old.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
We pulled into the parking lot with one minute until prayer began. The car doors were flying open before the thing was in park, and I heard from somewhere in the back, "All right, troops, move, move, MOVE!"
I clambered out, gathered my things, and was formulating a response when I heard, "Or, you know, eventually. That works, too." It was John, who was standing there, holding the door open as the little moved ever so slowly toward the door, chatting, gathering their things, putting on their shoes.
I stifled a laugh and grabbed the rest of my things.
That one little interaction pretty much summed up our Sunday mornings. We may have grand plans and ambitions, but we're only going to move as quickly as our least-focused cadet. And yet, we made it without any yelling, or making anyone cry. Sometimes there's a bit of resignation, though.
I do wish I were a more consistent photo taker. Jase was wearing shorts and big, heavy shoes, and he just exuded Christopher Robin. It was precious and wonderful and made me smile every time he scampered off somewhere. I hope he's the one who picks my clothes for me when I'm old.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)