Tales From the Waiting Room (and other stories)

Coming and Going

My guys all left the other day, on a trip to Wyoming. The boys were excited to be traveling in "a RV" (rented) and wanted to sleep in it the night before the trip. 

Dundee, however, knew that Something Was Up and that he wasn't going to be a part of it. He could scarce take it in.

We're doing a good job keeping busy while the guys are gone. We picked up our friend Minda, to spend a week with us. She loves our kittens...

The girls attended yet another VBS program. They decorated their treat bags on the first night.

Tigress Woods worked on her swing:

The girls enjoyed dinner. At least I assume so, since they looked more pensive than happy here.

Yesterday was Abbi's birthday! She is, indeed 17. I don't recall giving her permission to grow up, but there you have it. 

It wasn't that long ago when we went to Thailand to collect her, was it?  

------------------

Abbi dear,

Or as you want to be called now, Abigail. You don't remember us coming to Payathai Childrens Home, do you? You were 2 years old, and decidedly didn't like us. The workers encouraged us to get to know you, but you'd have rather stayed inside. They thought if we fed you it would help. They gave daddy a huge bowl of grayish gruel, with bits of meat floating in it. I'm sure it was a nutritious cereal mixture, but it didn't look...or smell...very appetizing.  I asked the workers rather incredulously if you ate the whole thing at each meal. They enthusiastically assured me that you did indeed eat a whole bowl at each meal. I remained skeptical while daddy fed you one bite. You refused the second bite but must have been hungry, as you finally opened your mouth again with a lot of coaxing from your audience. After getting the second bite in your mouth, you made a face that said it all--but just in case we tried it again, you shot your leg out and faster than anything, kicked that cereal bowl right over daddy's head. Everything was covered in gruel. The workers expressed shock and I laughed. I couldn't blame you, after all! 

 After we got permanent custody of you three days later, we brought you to the Christian Guest House, where we were staying. You settled in, and we had given up trying to feed you gruel. You were much happier with a bottle containing milk and thinned cereal. Ahhh.....

A week after we got home to Mississippi, we celebrated Thanksgiving. You spied that turkey leg, pointed to it and yelled at Amy to foot it over.

You never looked back.

You developed a habit of insisting on wearing your bunny slippers At All Times, yet while napping you would remove them and place them right next to your head. It seemed to give you comfort.

And here in America, there was no such thing as a Bad Hair Day for you.  "Mirror, mirror, in my feet, who's the fairest and most sweet?"

You were such a funny little thing.

So it doesn't quite seem possible that you are 17. Or that you like Hannah Montana. You really didn't need to take it so literally when I told you to follow your own path in life.

Some friends came over.

Silly girls.

And then we played "Superstar" which seemed a lot like Bingo. Except the cards had pictures of Hannah Montana on them, and you were supposed to yell "Superstar" when you got your row finished. Minda handled shouting out the numbers, and  I made her promise not to mention that she served as a call girl while at my house.

Then inexplicably, a pool party broke out.

Then, the opening of the gifts. 

A book about horses:

A jeweled horse.

And a wooden horse. Stop me when you notice a theme.

All in all, Abbi declared the day a success.

Happy Birthday, honey. 

Love, Mom

Summer of Shame

I won't say I've sunk to new lows, but I'm not sure I've ever served my children whipped cream in a cup before. It was for dessert though, not actual lunch. However, please note the anti-oxidant-packed blueberry, hand-picked by yours truly from the produce section of Big V.

Abby Normal

Yesterday, I took the girls to the unveiling of the new American Girl doll, with the requisite speeches and arts & crafts. This all took place at a nearby museum, in a room which usually exhibited the evolution of the insane asylum. They forgot to remove this particular piece. I wish I had one of these. 

The jar, that is. I do have a brain, worn-out and useless though it can be at times. 

Ah but the dolls. The girls had a wonderful time playing with all the exhibit dolls and their accessories and clothes, and then making crafts. 

We couldn't stay the entire time as the girls had piano lessons, but we took the unfinished part of the craft home with us, so it could sit on the counter before being moved to a shelf and eventually someday be thrown out. 

But our intentions are always good. 

Hey though!  We have company. We love it when friends visit, and these people have been dear to us for many years. Unfortunately we rarely see each other! Jen from Knitters-Knitters and her husband and six lovely children are here. The children are getting along famously.  

There is swimming:

Then an edible form of refreshment:

Early the next morning, there were farm chores. First, gathering eggs from reluctant chickens.

Josh then entertained the children by hypnotizing a chicken. Josh drew a line in the dirt and made the chicken look at it, and it couldn't get off its back until there was a loud noise. I wondered if he'd used a special "trick chicken" but he did again with a different chicken, with the same results. It doesn't work on a rooster, though. 

Then onto the barn, where we cuddled the kittens.

And at the pasture, Agatha searches for flowers to pick, and feed to the donkeys.

 

Olive has a secret that she's not sharing with us. 

Then Agatha explained how the light rain felt.

The children took turns petting the resident kid:

We called it a morning.

Later in the day there was grilling of meat and more swimming. A little poker was played also. 

Tomorrow will be at least as promising. Have a happy and wonderful Independence Day, everyone!

If it weren't for the Children

...Brett and I would make really good parents. 

Laundry? Got it. Dishes?  Check. Shopping?  I can do that. 

We know what to do. We know how to do it. It's the daily execution of it all that seems to get in the way. Today I walked through the house and found there were several places where the children apparently had gone feral. I tried to remind myself that someday, they won't be here anymore and I can clean up once and for all. But with the advent of five (so far) grandchildren, is it wrong that I look forward to said grandbabies making the same messes? 

It really doesn't seem to me like we have  a large family, because I'm used to them all. But then, I see them through someone else's eyes, and I feel irresponsible, as if we've haphazardly collected this ragtag group without any forethought. And I see anew, how it must look to others. Here we are, with only 11 of the Original Fourteen:

On Sunday afternoon, we took our pastor and his wife out for lunch at a local buffet. A kinder couple you won't meet, and they remarked again what a blessing our armless girls (Abigail and Mercy) have been to others in the church.  

I never quite know how to respond to this and tend to answer with platitudes, but I do know that the girls would find such thinking amusing. They of course, know that it's not they who are disabled, but everyone else who is handicapped with the horrific Superfluous Arm Syndrome and has to deal with far too many limbs and to be honest, looks a little funny to them. Yet, they are tolerant of others and say nice things to those encumbered with four flailing limbs. 

Speaking of grandchildren, we recently returned from California. I took my girlies (and Judson) there and we tried to help with my new twin grandsons. I must say, that as many children as I have had/acquired, there is really nothing like two who are exactly the same age. My dear DIL Maggie has the twins on an amazing schedule, and the boys only wake up once at about 4 a.m. for a feeding. I slept in the nursery for most nights I was there and marveled at how easy they were to care for. During the night, that is. When daylight came, they needed baths, bottles, cereal, cuddling, swinging, changing and a host of other things. Good thing they are darn cute. Here's my step-grandson Joseph and the babes:

And here I am, with our son Taylor, daddy of the twins. He will most likely be deployed by August. 

And despite the swine flu epidemic fears, I took the girlies to Mexico. The shopping in Tijuana was dismal so we high-tailed it to Ensenada. Not only was the shopping abundant, but we also got hennas at a tattoo parlor. Mine was a heart with a banner that said "Brett." It only lasted a week but it fed my wild side :D

We ended the day at an open-air cafe. Judson, of course, ordered an American cheeseburger and fries.

It was on the menu, after all.

G'night, from Ensenada over the Pacific.

Rites of Passage

We have two college graduates this month. Unfortunately, Christina chose not to "walk" through the ceremony (she's busy with her next degree, cosmetology!) but we did travel to Jackson, MS to see Amy graduate today. We stayed at a hotel with a requisite breakfast buffet. I'm not sure why it soothes my soul to be at a buffet. The Good Mother answer is that I am pleased to see the children happy and fed. The real answer lies more along the lines of "Hey! I don't have to cook or clean up! And they'll live for another few hours!"  Amy arrived early and joined us for breakfast, on the premise that she was technically still a college student, and they don't pass up free food. 

Out on the lawn of the hotel, to snap a few before the ceremony.

After the graduation ceremony. Here's Amy with two of her piano students, who came to support her.

A few of the boys, mugging for the camera. YES we ordered Isaiah's new glasses two weeks ago, but they still aren't ready. 

We didn't get to tour the St. Louis Arch on the way down as anticipated, due to tornadoes in the area :0

However, we were able to change our tickets to tomorrow and good weather is expected. So we'll go do that before we head back home. 

We got to the hotel an hour or so ago, and Brett sent me and the girls up to the room (3 room suite) while he and the boys got the luggage out and locked up the van. We went up to the room and I set down the things we were carrying, and used the card-key to unlock the door. Soon I would be relaxing on the bed and making one of the children go to the ice machine for me. ahhhh......

As I opened the door, I first noticed the men's tennis shoes parked just inside the door. The first thought that occurred to me was "How did Brett make it up to the room already, and why did he take his shoes off? Oh...and why is he coming out of the shower already?" 

Being a quick study if I do say so myself, I quickly realized that wasn't Brett. I closed the door and only told the girls to get back to the elevator. I explained as much as I thought was proper, on the way back down to the lobby. Abbi thought it amusing. 

The gal at the desk didn't believe me at first, and thought that I was one of those Difficult Customers who wanted to change rooms because the wall hangings aren't up to her standards. The following conversation ensued:

Me:  No, there was actually a man in that room, and he was using the shower. I thought it prudent to involve you, and change rooms.

Desk Gal: Well who was it?

Me:  He did not confide in me. 

DG: Are you sure someone was in there?

Me: Pretty sure, yep. 

DG: And you say he was using the shower? 

Me:  Technically, he was done using the shower. 

(she had been typing on her computer all along, and finally figured out there was actually someone assigned to that room already). 

DG: I don't know how this could have happened!

Me: Can I just have another room?

DG: I'm just sorry you had to go through this! 

Me: Well as my grandmother always said, if you haven't seen it before you won't know what it is, and if you have, it won't be a big deal. 

DG: I'm almost done with your new room key, ma'am. 

I was a little disappointed that she didn't nod sagely at my grandmother's wisdom, but perhaps she was worried about other things, such as keeping her job. 

And for some reason, Brett was disturbed that I went "through that" also. The clerk apologized to both of us and handed us another card-key for another suite, and I said to Brett "Maybe this one will have a pretty lady for you, dear." 

As they say, no artist is appreciated in their own time. 

Have a wonderful Mother's Day, to all of you moms and daughters out there. 

As I See It: The Decline of Society

Some blame drugs. Some blame skimpy outfits, and perhaps Hannah Montana. 

I blame bad punctuation. 

I mean, really?  

Ah, but there are other signs that summon my interest, as my travels take me about this strange and wonderful land that I must become accustomed to. We definitely live in Cattle Country, and indeed there is even a piece of meat that is named after this section of the country - Kansas City Strip.  If there was any doubt that there were a lot of cows here, let that be eradicated immediately. 

As if passing pasture after pasture of black angus cows weren't enough, this reminds us that Hey! We have beef for you! 

I had long been fascinated by this sign, even before the swine flu became a pre-pandemic. Every time I passed it, I couldn't help but wonder--what does a BBQ breakfast entail?  Do I want to know?  When I wake up, it's all I can do to stagger to the coffee machine.  The thought of a BBQ breakfast churns my stomach. 

On another, less protein-en note, we made cupcakes yesterday.  I earned my keep for my design team, as Gideon enjoys a sweet treat:

 

That's all folks. Have a wonderful weekend. 

The Next Right Thing

Yesterday the pastor spoke about doing the next right thing. It's actually a phrase and a way of thinking that I learned years ago from my darling (only slightly) older sister. She's the cute one in the aqua dress -

It's something I tell myself often, and with a lot of small, noisy children around, it's strangely comforting. There is always someone who needs to be fed, or cleaned. Or something they wear or keep in an aquarium needs to be fed or cleaned. 

Not that clothes need to be fed, but you wouldn't know it by the appearance of the stains. 

But what happens when several "next right things" happen at once? 

This morning was slightly more harried than usual. The vet showed up to spay some of our dogs and neuter one of our barn cats, Meowi 3. Not to be confused with Meowi the Third. It's the best vet clinic ever, and drives right up to our front door. 

Sure wish pizza could be brought to us so handily, but we are denied that particular pleasure, as we continue to wander in the wilderness just outside of the delivery zone. At least the Israelites were able to get their meals from Manna Hut, with free delivery in less than 30 minutes. 

As soon as the vet arrived, our son Tim called and needed help with a (truck) transmission problem. 

The health insurance company called and, barely able to conceal their glee, cheerfully denied Abbi coverage once again.

Then the cleaning crew arrived and invaded the kitchen with loud equipment when Brett was trying to talk on the phone.

The school beeped in with a question about Noah's vaccination schedule and a behavior issue that needed to be dealt with sooner than immediately. 

Some of the children were hard at work on their schoolbooks while two others were practicing piano, and I had to interrupt to stop things, when two members of the cleaning crew wanted to chat with them for no reason in particular, and resented my intrusion in my children's lives.  

Brett is still recovering from his most recent illness, a stomach virus that would pretend to go away only to ambush him yet again. The children had a milder form of it but poor daddy seemed to suffer greatly. Recently Brett noticed that since he had retired from his day job thing last fall, he seemed to get sick more often. I commented that it was now because he was around the children most of the day now and they are virus-laden little creatures. This is what children look like when placed under a blacklight:

But one can only do so much at a time, and all was dealt with in its own time. Eventually the dogs stumbled out of anesthesia and were able to eat something, Meowi 3 stopped looking dead and staggered back up to the barn after furtively gulping a few bites of canned food.

Brett felt better after eating some toast.

The children all practiced their piano. The cleaning crew cleaned, and the washed sheets got put back on the beds. I counted up the meals today and turns out we were all fed three times, with an afternoon snack to boot. 

And I felt that the next right thing at this point was to tell everyone else about all of it. 

The Nominees are...And the award goes to the Dark Horse winner...

Sling Blade :  As I attempted to go through airport security on my way to New York the other day, I watched in dismay as my Mary Kay "Skin Firming and Glowing" lotion was unceremoniously dumped into the trash by security personnel, the stated reason being "too many ounces of liquid." 

When I was settled on board and was rummaging through my purse looking for a pen, I noticed this baby:

My first thought was, "I should give this to the flight attendant." My second thought was, "Or not." 

Then it became clear to me: The world was in much greater danger of me being dull and flabby than me with a weapon, but there you are. 

While I was in NY I mailed it back to our home. Yah, wasn't going to try that again. Still, I couldn't figure out how it got into my purse. Upon a flurry of text messages with DH, he confessed that when we took all the kids to the Civil War Re-enenactment last weekend, he had tucked it into my purse when I wasn't looking, as it was getting too heavy in his pocket. He'd meant to remove it later...

North by Northwest: When I got to the airport, I noticed that although my ticket still said "Northwest," the signs all said "Delta." Upon further research (i.e., chatting with the gate attendant), I found that by September, Northwest will be completely assimilated by Delta Airlines. As an old-movie buff, I know in my heart that "North by Delta" simply does not have the same ring to it, and I sincerely pray that no remake will ever show its ugly face. Give my regards to A. Hitchcock. 

Blade Runner:  DH has replaced all of the warm, glowing, welcoming lights in our household with strange blue-ish lights that apparently save a great deal of money on electricity bills. I now feel as though I reside on the set of Blade Runner. If you haven't seen it, you're either not related to me, or too young. And I mean that sincerely. 

Shrek: Oh yeah, we have donkeys. Most recently, our Easter Donkey that Isaiah named Thumper, because of her ears. 

And the anticipated award goes to...Me, apparently!

I was humbled, pleased and shocked to receive a blog award from the esteemed Jodie of Organised Chaos.  She spells in Australian and uses up a lot of s's and extra u's.

Thank you, Jodie! This is now my second blog award, bizarre especially because I only update every two weeks! Or sometimes four!  

Here's the schtick: The award acknowledges the value every blogger shows in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literacy and personal values everyday. The rules are simple enough! They are: 1. Accept the award, post it in your blog together with the name of person who granted the award and a link to their blog. 2. Pass the award to 15 other blogs that are worthy of this acknowledgment. Contact them to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Well, I'm not sure I even *read* 15 other blogs. But here's the ones I check up with, on a semi-regular basis. In alphabetical order so as not to create a bandwidth pushing and shoving match and bringing the inter-tubes to its knees:

Cara at C'est la Vie (ours anyway) a charming, handwritten blog about life in France with her darling family.

Jen at Knitters-Knitters who can spin a yarn like nobody's business. And has the cutest Spaniel in the Universe. 

Linda at My So-Called Life who has always been so encouraging to me, and a true inspiration. 

Christina at The Randomness of Life, my very own daughter who is creative and energetic and thoughtful and COOKS DINNER SEVERAL NIGHTS A WEEK!!

Jim at Retro Snark who I do not know personally but love how he digs up the past so he can bury it again™ 

Kim at Ruined Art who also happens to be my darling sister-in-law! I still can't figure out why she calls her blog that, because it's anything but ruined!  Beautifully creative, is more like it. I covet her chalkware. 

Tracy at Tracy Ann Digital Art, my design team leader who has the patience of a saint with all of us on her wacky team. 

Jeff at Washed by the Word our church's amazing youth pastor and music director, who puts up with my teenagers with a great deal of patience and grace. Thank you, Jeff!

Amber at Welcome to Grouchland who photographs like none other, yet keeps ignoring me when I ask her to simply fly over to this continent and take a few pictures of my children. Is that too much to ask? :)

Thanks to all of you, for existing to entertain me :)

One baby, Two parents, and Five Guys

I suppose it's no real surprise that we have grandchildren arriving close together, but it seems like a mere year and a half ago we had none. In fact, it was, and now there are five. With our oldest son acquiring a stepson when he married, and then twin boys (in February of this year), and our second son and his wife having two little girls 17 months apart, we were plunged quickly into grandparenting.  Joseph, our 9 year old step-grand, blended seamlessly into our family, since we have five boys not far from his age (some younger, some older). 

The advent of Tim and Jeni's daughter Naomi a few months later brought the wonder of a baby girl to us. Even with our six beautiful daughters, none had arrived as newborns, so it was fascinating to hold a tiny, blond girl who was and is every single inch a "girlie girl." 

And now we have a newer granddaughter!  Congratulate us on our most recent grandbaby, Sophia Grace. Tipping the scales at 6 lbs, 11 oz. on April 8, she arrived looking as much like Timothy, as their daughter Naomi has favored her mother. It was interesting to see such different baby faces on sisters. 

Since I had planned to do the Easter and birthday shopping on the Thursday before Easter (son Josh's 14th birthday is the day before Easter this year), but instead hopped a plane Wednesday morning, I decided to do my shopping while in NY. Visitors weren't allowed in the maternity ward before noon, so that gave me a chance to get some much-needed running around done. Fed Ex made sure the goodies arrived at our Missouri home the next day. I find myself wondering anew how mankind ever survived without the internet and overnight delivery, respectively the 8th and 9th wonders of the world. 

Tim called on my cell phone (10th!) and I offered to bring him lunch since I would be arriving at noonish. I had tried to park in a strip mall lot that had a lot of fast-food choices, but it was quite busy and I had not had the foresight to bring one of my disabled children on the trip with me (and their requisite handicapped parking placard). I drove around but only found this space open.

I of course have usually been able to utilize the HOV (high occupancy vehicle) lanes, but was driving solo that day. Still, I wondered at the gender discrimination and was curious as to how they enforced this strange law. What if they were transvestites? Who checks? 

As I chatted with Tim, I mentioned it and he said it was a hamburger joint. Indeed, it was. And in fact, a very good hamburger joint at that, and I brought lunch for all of us.

After the hospital released Jeni on her own recognizance this morning, I helped them settle in at home. By "help" I mean, mainly took pictures.  They'll thank me later. 

Jeni's parents arrived with Naomi, whom they had been taking care of for the last couple of days, and Kourtney, Jeni's sister. More photo ops!

For the birth announcement, Jeni wanted a sweet photo of Naomi gently kissing Sophie's precious head. I had plans of using a soft-focus lens filter, giving the photo an ethereal feel. In my mind I knew exactly how I would like them to pose. 

The Stones said it first and perhaps best:  "You can't always get what you want." 


"But if you try sometimes, you just might find, that you get what you need"


Jeni's going to give it another try tomorrow and see if she can get Naomi to actually come in contact with Sophie. 

And I'm up in the air now, literally.  Sad to leave the sweethearts, but now it's back home to my own darlings, who are no doubt anxious to see what I brought them  so excited to see me and give me a big hug.

A very Blessed Easter to all of our loved ones, and to the rest of you as well :)

My April Fool

For you long-time readers, you'll notice that this is a repeat of last year's post.  Just substitute "tenth birthday" for "ninth birthday" and it's all new again :)  This year Mercy's birthday falls on a Wednesday, which will be celebrated at the Awana racing car games. 

Dear Mercy Grace,

Happy ninth birthday! I guess the cliche of "Where does the time ago" would be apt here. 

The first time we looked at your picture, several months before you arrived, we noted the filthy bouncy seat, which was where all the little ones at the orphanage had their photo taken for their prospective families. You were assigned a name and number, and finally, a family. The dismal "sleeve-flop" from the long-sleeved shirt was rather jarring a sight to see on your little armless body. 

 

Our dear friend, Bill Baughn, viewed the photo of baby Mercy, and inquired as to what type of pelt she was wearing atop her head. I admit, it was a bit of a shock (har!) especially as I was so used to my blondish, cue-ball bald, boys.

I first met you, in March of 2000, in a hotel lobby in Ha Noi, Viet Nam. You were a phlegm-covered bundle of screeching terror, handed to me rather unceremoniously by the agency facilitator. He had suggested that so soon after my arrival, I spend the next couple of days resting up and getting ready to meet you. But I wanted to meet you and hold you, and perhaps a bit selfishly, I couldn't wait any longer. I requested that they bring you right away, as too much time had already been wasted in seemingly endless months of paperwork delays. 

At 11 months old, you had no idea what was going on. What you did know is that you were no longer with the sweet women who cared for you for so many months at the orphanage, and that you had substantially less than zero desire to get to know your new mother. 

The trip remains somewhat of a blur. I met your birthparents at the "Giving and Receiving" ceremony, and you retain the distinction of being the only adopted child of ours of whom I've met the birthparents. Your mother and I cried together, for just a quick little bit, before relatives directed her away. I wish I could have told her in her own language that I'd always do my very best for you. 

So today, I won't tell you that your desire for a seventh-in-a-row Princess Party was getting old for your rather tomboy-ish mom, or that I don't really understand your love for all things frilly and pink. And I certainly do not understand your wish for blond, blue-eyed princesses.

Because when I was a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes, I only dreamed of dark-haired, dark-eyed princesses, and wished that I were one.

But I will tell you, Happy Birthday Honey. We love you.

-Mommy and Daddy