This month marks the five year anniversary of the finalization of the adoption of my sister's daughter, my niece Jupiter. Together, Wendy and I went to Russia and I wrote a trip journal about it. Well, starting tomorrow, I am going to re-post these entries as we celebrate this journey that was, in so many ways, life changing. Please don't be expecting high literature here because, apart from the few entries written by Wendy, they're really not. But I hope you'll enjoy them just the same.
So that's tomorrow. Since the rest of the month is going to be devoted to my trip to Russia, there are a few things I wanted to mention here and now, just to help keep you current because I know that's very important.
First thing, I ordered a camera. I finally did it, Joe's potential irritation be damned. Actually, if he was irritated, he hid it well because he was sitting right next to me when I ordered it and even helped do an online search to make sure I was getting the best price. No "that camera costs how much?" or anything like that. It's on its way via Fed Ex right now which is a problem for a few reasons. The first reason being that I, thinking the package would go through the US Postal Service, put my PO Box as my shipping address and, last I knew, Fed Ex doesn't deliver to PO Boxes. So, good luck, Fed Ex, with getting my PO Box to sign for my camera. The second reason is that I'm familiar with the local Fed Ex men as they are the company which makes deliveries for The Store. I'm not as friendly with them as I was the UPS men back when The Store used their services, but I know who they are. This is a concern because I know how they sometimes treat packages and I don't want them doing that to my camera. The third reason is that right on Fed Ex's package tracking website is posted a warning that due to the crazy ass flooding in Tennessee, shipments might be delayed. Come on, Fed Ex. It's called a kayak. Look into it and get my camera to my PO Box. Just kidding...I'm not trying to be insensitive, just funny. As long as the camera shows up before I leave for Vegas, I'll be good. I'll have the entire flight to figure out how to use the damn thing, right?
I am completely ensconced in my re-conceptualizing writing project only now that I am mired in it, I don't seem to know where to go from here. Meanwhile, back on the ranch, I'm looking at Second Nature and still want to keep ahead of my incredible shrinking word count. My lead is still a lead but is down to just over 5,000 words. It makes me very sad. But I WILL figure this out. I will. Probably.
One last thing before I go figure things out, or die trying. This Sunday is Mother's Day so I just want to say how very much I Love My Mom. She rocks. She's the best.
Once upon a time, back when I was still teaching, I had a student who had a stay-at-home mother and a whole litter of younger siblings. Well, one day, during some downtime in my class, this student whose name was Hillary (not her real name) made the fatal mistake of saying how she didn't understand why her mother couldn't do something for Hillary that was entirely unnecessary (I don't remember what the something was).
"I mean, come on," Hillary said. "It's not like she works or anything."
"Oh. Your mom doesn't work?" I asked.
Cue Hillary's death glare.
"No, she stays home."
"And sits on the couch eating bon bons all day?"
"So, when you're home, you do your own laundry?"
"Who does your laundry then?"
"Oh. So when you're home you must cook all your own meals."
"So who cooks your meals then?"
"Then you must drive yourself all the places you need to go like your friends' houses or the mall or wherever."
"No," Hillary said. It's possible her teeth were a little clenched at this point. "I can't drive."
"Oh. So who drives you then?"
"I see. And what about your brothers and sisters. You have some of those, right?"
"And who's taking care of them? The nanny?"
"We don't have a nanny."
"A housekeeper who also keeps your house clean?"
"So your mom does it."
"Okay. So let me see if I understand this. Your mother stays at home and cooks for you and cleans the house in which you live, and does your laundry and drives you and your four siblings around wherever you need to go whenever you need to go there."
Cue crickets. Not only was Hillary silent but so were the other girls in the class.
"Yes," Hillary said finally.
"Then don't let me ever hear you say again that your mother doesn't work," I said. "Because she does."
Hillary grumbled something under her breath then. I think it rhymed with "Bitch."
"There's going to be a time, Hillary," I said then, "in the years to come that you're going to come to realize how very much your mother has done for you and you're going to feel bad that you didn't appreciate her more so do yourself a favor and make sure you appreciate her, and everything she does for you, now."
Class ended then and the girls all skedaddled out of that room like it was on fire. Hillary never did mention her mother to me again and I have no idea if she took my advice but I hope she did.
The theme of this story is that I was one of those stupid blind punk kids who didn't, at the time, appreciate her mother the way she deserved to be appreciated. And you can't make up for that kind of thing.
But I Love My Mom. I'll even say it again...I LOVE MY MOM. One more time, this time in all caps, just so you know I'm serious...
I LOVE MY MOM!
And, on that note, I'm outta here. See you next month, readers.