Wonderful Winter Weather

Last Friday at homeschool park day the moms FROZE in our chairs!  It was so windy and cold!  Well, for Phoenix, that is.  It wasn’t windy at our house when we left, but 10 minutes later when we pulled into the park we hoped and prayed there were jackets in the back of the van.  Thankfully, I found one for myself… my son’s hockey jacket from 5 years ago… when he was 11.  No, it didn’t exactly fit, but I was able to zip it up and block the blustery cold out.  It fit quite like a wetsuit.  A wetsuit that is too small.

The wind blew and blew for the two hours we were huddled with arms folded tightly in the sunshine.  One of my sons kept asking me, “Mom, do you know what your hair looks like?”  I could see my shadow and knew it was an amusing shape… and ever-changing shape.  “Mom, did you do your hair this morning?”  “Mom, you should really go look at your hair.”  There was nothing I could do, so I didn’t bother.  For some strange reason, my 14-year-old son was extremely concerned about my hair… and my image.  Maybe it was HIS image???

Yesterday was park day again. Imagine that!  Friday just keeps happening over and over.  Prepared for wind gusts of 50+mph, I donned a sweat suit with jacket and LOTS of hairspray.  Lo and behold, winter ended in Phoenix.  It was 74* F with sunny skies and not a trace of a breeze.  Yesterday was also the day the moms play flag football with the kids… and lose miserably, I might add.  I couldn’t even keep my jacket on sitting still because it was so warm.  After playing football for ten minutes I was frying, looking for my water and a shady spot to collapse.

Spring has sprung.  The air is warm, the flowers are blooming.  God, please let spring last more than ten days this year!!!  Please!!!

16 Years Ago Tonight…

Sixteen years and two days ago, I went to the hospital to have a baby.  But the baby, despite his gargantuan size, was feeling quite cozy and decided not to come out yet.  So, with the IV still in my hand, I was sent home for a “good night’s sleep”…. whatever.  I felt like I had swallowed a watermelon… I was measuring 43 cm across the giant mound.  It was TIME!  It was actually nine days PAST the due date, but my four children NEVER paid attention to due dates.

Ironically, it was the Canada Cup hockey game that night….. and it was playing on the TV in the hospital.  And my husband was enthralled in watching the grown men on thin blades of steel, balancing on slippery ice, using weapons to hit a rubber puck at the net. Thankfully, my friend Barbie had come to visit me on the supposed night of my birthing… and gave me a ride home…. with the IV still in my hand…. for my “good night’s sleep.”

We went back to the hospital on September 13th, in hopes of delivering a child.  We never found out the sex of our children until we could see proof with our own eyeballs.  So, we were unaware that it was our first SON…. and unaware that he had the largest head ever to travel through a birthing canal.  The memory still makes me wince and sit delicately on my chair.  After much pushing and pulling and prodding and probing, Austin was born at the stroke of midnight.  The doctor asked us if we wanted his birthday to be Friday the 13th, or Sept. 14th…. that is how I heard it anyway… and we chose the 14th.  For 16 years, September 13th has held a special place in my heart as the day I almost had a son.

He looked like a hockey player who had recently lost a fight at the blue line, due to some of the prodding and probing… but we loved  him anyway.  Looking back, this was the first of four or five times the skin would be missing on his face.  It should have been a red flag for me as his mother, but no.

Tomorrow Austin turns 16…. but it could have been today.  Oh, the power in the hands of a mother on the birthing table.

Happy Birthday, son.  You have shown yourself worthy of being a fighter to overcome insurmountable odds… from the very beginning.  I’m so proud of the man you are becoming.  My buttons are bursting, almost as badly as September 13th, sixteen years ago!

Keep Your Small Children Off the Streets!

It’s that time of my life again…. I’m getting old fast.  My little blond haired son who stuttered and yelled every word while he ran instead of walking anywhere…. just got his driver’s permit.  He was three-years-old about six months ago.  How does this keep happening to me?  In the past few years, every time he would comment on my driving (like suggesting that I could have made it through the light I stopped at) I would tell him to add two more months past his 16th birthday for a possible driving date.  Funny how he stopped commenting about six or eight months ago…. hoping I would forget all the months that were added. I have not.  What do you think I am?  Old?

Before my 15 1/2-year-old got his permit, I mentioned to my husband that I’m not real comfortable riding with my eldest son behind the wheel.  The last time he drove the van was in 1999 and HE WAS THREE!  He hit a fire hydrant and the van got a hole bashed in the rear bumper. Yes, he went in reverse AND drive!  It’s all still so clear in my motherly-horror-of-horrors-memory.  Back to my comment to my husband.  He responded as a more-than-confident father, “He’s a great driver. He’s a guy. He’ll do fine.  He’s my son.”  I rolled my proverbial eyeballs. Our 18-year-old daughter did an involuntary sputter/choke/laugh.  She then questioned, “What does Dad know that the insurance companies don’t know?”  GREAT question.

Thankfully, my eldest son actually IS a confident and safe driver so far.  We have not ventured onto the highway yet, but his success in parking lots and side streets is quite good.  I’m actually feeling more confident now than when my very nervous and cautious daughter started this process three years ago. 

Two student drivers down.  Two to go.  God help us!

My Son Wears a Unitard…..

…. but thankfully, he’s not dancing with ribbons at the same time!  He is riding for a foundation called Team Winded that raises awareness of asthma.  We are THRILLED that he has this opportunity and gets to associate with top-notch individuals who are making Team Winded function!

That’s him on the right with the Night Rider glasses on.  I love the team’s orange booties because it makes the riders so easily identifiable on the track! Today was Austin’s first category four race.  Cycling begins at category five and they work their way up to one… and professional.  We’ve been told that it usually takes about ten years of riding to hit your prime… that will be age 24 for Austin.  It’s a long term goal, but he is passionate, determined and sturdy!

Here is an informative article about The Winded Foundation:  http://www.freedomwaymagazine.com/winded-foundation-works-raise-asthma-awareness

God has brought many amazing opportunities into this young man’s life…. this is by far one of the coolest!!!  Thank you, Team Winded (Jay and Tisha!) for sponsoring Austin and having the vision to grow riders! These guys range in age from 15 to 18 and Austin is one of the youngest on the team.

(Austin is third from the right above and in the middle below.)

Preparing for U.S. History

This is one of my favorite activities, even though it consumes my Mondays and Tuesdays every week.  That is also why there are usually no posts on here Mondays and Tuesdays… but a few occurences are worth mentioning today… as I step away from the Civil War for ten minutes.

1.  My 15-year-old son has been growing out his hair for a long time.  Yesterday he asked me a question I NEVER thought I’d hear… “Mom, do you know how to cut my hair in a mullet?”  What in the world?  It’s been 25 years since I’ve done a mullet, but I believe I remember how.  And then it happened… I was transported back to college in 1985… mullets everywhere.  The mullet went down a little rustier than planned (in fact I need to do some repair work tonight) but it made us all laugh until we cried.

 

2.  My 15-year-old son got some running TOE shoes.  What in the world?  They are red with black rubber on the bottom…. with a little strap just like Mary Jane’s to hold them on his hairy feet.  He’s been wearing them around the house all day “breaking them in”… for what, I’m not sure.  Maybe running.  But he’s a cyclist.

3.  Ringo the wiener dog is brain-dead when it comes to house/potty training.  Seriously… brain DEAD.  This will take a LOT of diligent work.  He also tried to chew the back of the Ethan Allen rocking chair.  Not good.  We initiated the use of the spray bottle today.  All I have to add is he’s lucky he’s so cute.

4.  Buying SparkNotes from Barnes & Noble online is cheaper and quicker than running down to the store to buy them.  Don’t tell my American History students, please.  A few clicks…. 44 printed pages… and BAM… I’m smarter than a 5th grader.

That is all for now.  Peace out!

(Steve) Austin = Bionic Man

Once again, my motherly buttons have burst and are scattered all over the floor.  My 14-year-old son never ceases to amaze me with his drive, determination and athletic ability.  This past Tuesday Austin and his dad rode around Lake Tahoe…. 72 miles of hills… including a 1200 ft. incline.  Not my idea of a good time, AT ALL.  But hey, if it floats their boats, more power to ‘em.  BUT, get this,…… one day of pain and agony was not enough.  Austin wanted to beat the five-hour time with his father slowing him down, so he rode around the lake a second time on Thursday.  His father drove the pace car and handed out granola bars when needed.  Austin shaved more than an hour off his time.  No big surprise!  Three hours and 56 minutes. 

As his mother, I’m so proud of his incredible perseverance…. WAY more drive than my husband or I have….. or ever did have!  We don’t actually know where this drive originated from.  Maybe it goes back to Austin’s 1/4 Native Indian heritage WAY back when they had to run after buffalo or moose or some other wild animal…. for days on end.  But that was for survival, not thrills-a-minute.  I don’t get it.

Here are some more photos for your viewing pleasure.  :o)

There we are.  The proud parents.  See!  There’s no buttons left on our shirts.

Checking In with Mom

My fourteen-year-old son called home from camp tonight.  It surprised me.  He started by saying, “I thought I’d call you………….  “   and then I asked questions for five minutes.   Is the place nice?  How’s the food?  Who are you rooming with?  Are there girls on your team?  When do you come home?   Then there was a 20 second pause and he asked if dad was home.  Nice.  Yeah, I love you and miss you too, son. 

This is my not-highly-emotional-or-physical son.  Physical for sports – yes.  Physical for hugs and kisses – no.  I don’t even think he writes “love” at the bottom of his cards to me.  I think they say “from”.  Nice.    Anyway, there is a sign on the fridge in CURSIVE that says, “Mom, I love you.  Thanks for taking us camping. Austin Crosby”  It totally made me laugh because it was his signature, but my husband wrote in messy cursive to make it look like Austin wrote it.    I left it there because it makes me smile.

Several years ago…. probably five years ago… this same son called home from camp.  It surprised me then too.  That time his sole purpose for calling was to make sure I put the garbage can to the road, because it was Wednesday, after all!

When he left on Sunday morning my parting words were, ‘I love you.  Be a leader.”  I expect a full report upon his return.

Minor Victory in my Post Adoption Life

As I have confessed here before, my life is so much different now that I have four children.  This week we will have been home from Colombia with the Colombian princess for five months… also marking HALF A YEAR that she has been our girl.  My, does time fly when you’re having fun coping issues. :o)  But a light has begun to shine at the end of the tunnel for me.  I’m back on top in a few areas that I feel are worth sharing for my own cathartic needs.

1.  I am back to being a coupon queen.  With the aid of my son (who loathes de-collating coupon books, but loves his mama) my coupons are all up to date in the file box.  I spent about a half hour making a list and checking it twice and headed off to do BIG saving shopping at Fry’s grocery store.  When it all came down, I filled two carts (mainly because I stocked up on paper towel) and the total would have been $280, but after my coupons I paid $106.  My pantry was bare-er than it has ever been in the past four years, but I remedied that in one trip!  My children are much happier now that they see a supply of food that will last more than two days!  Nora could not believe how much stuff I bought!  And she doesn’t even understand the savings yet!

2.  My Tupperware cupboard is cleaned out!  This is almost a miracle.  When do I have time to do mundane chores like that?  Hardly ever!  But this week, with the help of the same son and my little new helper, everything blinkin’ plastic thing was pulled from the cupboard and MATCHED with its lid!  Whoa!  I know!  We filled the recycle bin twice with those containers that were partner-less.  It makes me happy simply to open the cupboard door and look at the tidiness.

3. My master bedroom closet is clean!!!  That means I finally hauled out all the Christmas decorations, wrap and bows that were thrown in there in early January!  I also went through my clothes and threw out items that should have been thrown out years ago.  I also put together a BIG bag for Goodwill.  And filled the garbage can twice!  This does not mean that I touched any of Rick’s clothes or junk quality paraphernalia.  But I did count his t-shirts….. 33.  Why in heaven’s name does any grown man need 33 t-shirts.  They don’t.  That is on the agenda for today! (Don’t tell!)

I’m feeling almost close to normal… about three minutes off.

Keeve is Twelve!!

Yesterday was the 12^th birthday of my youngest son, Keeve. Can it really be twelve long years since his chubby little self appeared in our lives? Keeve was our “bless-ed” surprise child. Not that we didn’t want more children, but we were living in a squishy apartment with a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old, and a vast assortment of large plastic toys and furniture. We had one car, and it only had four seatbelts. We didn’t have health insurance. We still had one kid in diapers… and he was sleeping in the only crib we owned. My husband was working in a sales job on commission…. In my mind I was NOT ready for another child.

It was gestational week 12 by the time I found out that I was indeed with child. I had taken tests at home and at the doctor’s office that were all negative…. LIES! (Just like the eagle’s eggs from Nacho Libre!)

Rick arrived home from work and found me sitting on the couch crying while watching Reading Rainbow. The show was about adoption and they were showing “Gotchya Days.” I was a blubbering mess. He took one look at me and said, “You need to take another pregnancy test.” I did… and there was a pink cross. Then I cried for three days to my sister, who was also a “bless-ed” surprise.

Rick got a flying job when I was seven months along…. With insurance. We moved into a four bedroom home when I was eight months along. We got a car with SIX seatbelts when I was nine months along. Austin was moved into a big-boy-bed the week before Keeve was born. It all worked out! Just like God knew it would.

Of course, God’s timing is perfect. Our boys are two years apart and have been cohorts in crime and frivolity for 12 years now. Their schemes rate right up there with the Little Rascals and the Three Stooges. And Keeve is sarcastic… where in the blazes did that come from?

Happy Birthday, to our Keeve! We love you and are so proud of you!

Horror of Horrors

Yesterday was an exciting day for our just-turned-14-year-old son, Austin, the triathlon winner.  A sports writer from our local paper came to interview Aus about his hockey to triathlon story.  He said that he checked out the results from the race and he had to go up four or five age categories before Austin’s score was not in the top five!  We didn’t know that. When Austin told him that just two weeks before the race he only knew how to doggy paddle, the guy was sold.  The story will run next Wednesday (of course I’ll link the article here!) and he is also submitting the story to the major US triathlon magazine… which I don’t know the name of.  I’m new to this triathlon deal.  Just three weeks ago I thought triathlon was spelled triathalon.  See, I’ve come a long way already.

Ok, onto the horror of horrors that has had you gripped from the moment you read the title of this blog.  About twenty minutes into the interview, a photographer shows up at the house to do a photo shoot of Austin.  The first words out of his mouth were, “Is there a trophy room where Austin has his awards?”  Well, yes there is.  But it’s the boy’s room.  The messy boy’s room.  The room with clothes on the floor and unmade beds.  I actually put my hands to my head and spoke the words, “Horror of horrors!” out loud, revealing my housekeeping secrets.  Downstairs is sparkling clean.  Past the middle landing on the stairs, you’re on your own, baby.  Hard hats may be required.  I have too many things to worry about like cooking, and laundry, and homeschooling, and gardening, and adopting, etc. to worry about the kids’ rooms being spotless.

They didn’t even give me two minutes of grace time to throw things under the beds.  The photographer was right on my heels going up the stairs.  Without much shame, I started shoving, hiding, smoothing, throwing, moving, etc.  We did get one-quarter of the room presentable in about five minutes.  To calm my nerves, I had to leave the room while they took the pictures.  Good grief.  Don’t worry, my picture won’t be gracing Good Housekeeping anytime soon.  The word is out, unfortunately.

I’ve always said, “If you want to see me, come on over!  If you want to see my house, please make an appointment for two weeks out.”  See, it’s true!