We interrupt this programming for a Proud Mama Announcement… Arleigh and Hanan are officially on the A. Scott track team. I didn’t even realize they were trying out until they got home.

Bare with me as there are a few things to say about this. First I’m super excited as I have delusions of grandeur about my own running. (Can you call them delusions of grandeur if you realize that’s what they are?) I also never dreamed I’d here my kids describe the track like this… Well, we started back by the basketball court, you had to run to the banyan tree, around the coconut trees, to the palm trees… you get the idea. I still have to pinch myself that we live here.

Time to single Hanan out. Hanan is my mostly quiet one that tries sometimes to get lost in the shuffle of our herd. That’s easy to do with Bria drowning the rest of us out. She is one of the shortest kids in her class. Her legs are about half the length of her good buddy, Raina’s legs. I’m not even kidding. Raina is almost as tall as me. We’ve always said, if Hanan finds the determination she would be a runner. She came in first in the long distance race. Considering those little legs had to pump a bit harder to keep up with the longer ones, I’d say that’s a pretty big deal!

There aren’t really gyms in Hawaii public schools. You don’t need them. Everything happens outside. There isn’t much money for tracks either. I hear their headed for a meet at Moanaloa. I’m anxious to see how this works. Banyan trees have lots of roots that are really great for tripping people.

Good job girls! We’re super proud of you!

I could just post the picture. You might not recognize the importance… and who am I to stand in the way of my big old mouth. Speaking of big old mouth. Bria’s homework assignment for tonight was to draw something that makes sound. She decided on a self portrait because talking is her favorite hobby. I kid you not. She came up with it all on her own when she realized Peek A Bugs don’t make much of a sound.

Any who… last night was interesting around here. I was upstairs giving Bria and Jack their baths and pushing forward for the hour of peace moment. Ray is off island. I need my hour of peace because our school schedule here has us all up at around 5 most mornings. I might get lucky and have them sleep until 6. So, from 9-10 is my only quiet alone time. I covet it, especially when Ray is gone. So as I was scrubbing away on Bria’s tangled hair, I was a bit shocked to hear screams from downstairs. Screams from Arleigh. It’s usually Bria or believe it or not, Jack. He is the shrillest of the lot of us. I heard Arleigh call for Hanan. Then I heard footsteps. Next was, “Mama! There is a lizard in my room!!!”

Oh snap! I was envisioning the gecko that has been haunting my garage. It is at least as long as my hand…not counting the tail with the potential to fall off.  This was not on my hour of peace agenda. I start running downstairs. Hanan was calmly sitting on the futon. The child that asks me for any number of animals including reptiles was watching television. The child that not two months ago threw a dead lizard on her mother. “Hanan, did Arleigh tell you what’s in her room?” I was calmly asking hoping she would volunteer to hunt it. “Yeah, it’s a lizard. I saw it. It ran.” “Um… where did it run Hanan?” She shrugged and I swear never stopped watching the television. “Could I get a little help from the reptile whisperer sweetheart?” I promise you she told me she would if she could keep it. At this point, I have no idea what I said. NO IDEA.

Turns out Godzilla was smaller than most Hawaiian cockroaches and hiding behind the dresser. He kept scooting himself under the edge of Arleigh’s carpet to hide himself. He was so tiny, I was thinking I would probably squish him with my giant man size hands. Hanan was pretty afraid of hurting him too. Before it was over, I sat a mason jar on top of him after coaxing him into the open, then carefully slipped card stock under him. He was relocated outside, across the street. I escaped both tears and terror from my children. No one was harmed. I’m calling one for Team Mama.

My evidence…

Let me also say… Ray you owe me! Why is it these things only happen when he is gone? I found another one this morning. He had already passed on to his own tropical paradise in the sky…dead as a door nail or at least as dead as the lizard Hanan threw at me. This time I didn’t scream. Again. Ray, you owe me! Dead animals fall strictly in your territory.

Wonder what will happen tomorrow?

Because I thought you would like to know, it must not have been heat… Or food poisoning. Unless of course my late afternoon run took me down in the same heat induced sickness fashion. I’m thinking it was the three loads of laundry that got me though. Blessedly, Hanan has kept everything down since last night. I however… Have also managed to keep it all down but I promise you it’s only by sheer will.

My mother likes to tell the story of the first time I got really sick…and knew I was sick. I apparently put up quite the fight then too. I kicked and screamed and cried and yelled, “But I don’t want to Bomb it!” before turning all demon possessed spewing pea soup on anything in the vicinity. Bomb it I did. My poor mother had no idea just how much my sheer will would grow unless it involved pizza or a cheeseburger… But let’s don’t go there now.

I had no idea my muscles could feel like they’ve been put in a meat grinder while someone is clearly operating a jackhammer on my brain and somehow my stomach seems to be eating itself. Lovely. Add to that the fact that I must be delusional. I keep imaging shooting all the brag tags on the backs of all the cars with a bow and arrow. They are mocking me I tell you!

Why am I telling you this? I’m a descendant of whiners. You can’t hear me moaning like a banshee from the cold tile floor… You know when I get out of this forsaken car line. Therefore, I blog. There may also be a bit of exaggeration in my lineage but I like to refer to it as elocution. If you need me I’ll be near a bathroom with a bucket in hand just in case.

Seriously…if you were waiting for a sign this is it! Kentucky won! I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

Hanan ate a sandwich last night that included avocado and tomato and she didn’t even flinch. Bria finished hers without complaining that anything is squishy and…are you waiting for it, Jack ate all of his too! (If you are wondering why I left Arleigh out, it’s because she has always been a very adventurous and healthy eater. I am so happy that I’m blessed with one.)

After dinner Hanan rode her bike. I know. She’s nine. We live on a giant hill. Our road is relatively busy, particularly after they get home from school. She finally decided that it was time to move from flying down the street on a scooter to her bike. I am so proud! She was always very worried about being embarrassed in Hawaii. No, I didn’t get a picture. I’ll definitely get a new one soon. We may need to pick up a bike rack for the Mom Mobile.

In other news, our calendar is jam packed. We were talking about having a party for Hanan because her birthday hits right after we arrive in Hawaii. I am having a really hard time figuring out just how we are going to do that. I offered to buy a new bike in Hawaii complete with a basket in lieu of a party. She has a cute bike but bald tires and and and…I’ll save money and a weekend but I’m racked with guilt. Hanan still hasn’t made up her mind.

Several weeks ago someone at our church announced that they needed more families to sign up to deliver baskets to Le Bonheur Children’s hospital. Arleigh was all over it. She begged. All total I would be out a Monday afternoon. I thought it would be good for all of us to do so I told her to sign us up. That was several weeks ago. Monday was our day. When I said sure, I had no idea what Monday we would be assigned. When I got a note about the day, I never second guessed it. I also  never thought that Ray’s parents would be visiting from out of town necessitating two vehicles for every outing that included all of us. I assumed we would go as a family, I would deal with Bria and Jack and Ray could handle driving downtown and parking. He’s also a wonderful bodyguard if I’m in questionable areas of Memphis. Le Bonhuer’s neighborhood feels totally safe in the light of day. I wasn’t sure how I would feel at dusk.

Monday arrived. You are about to hear exactly how selfish I really am. I have visited with people at Le Bonheur before. I don’t like driving downtown. There isn’t much rush hour in Memphis but what little there is, I would be hitting. The girls and I would have to find a place to park and make our way over to the main entrance…that’s being worked on and not really open. I would have to cross a busy street with two children and three baskets filled with water and snacks for people waiting in the waiting rooms. At least it was the big two and they could help lug filled baskets. I am ashamed to say, all I could think about was the fact that we were supposed to be having family time before Ray left again and here I was splitting us up on an errand, ruining the plans we had.

It’s funny how God has bigger plans. The girls and I sailed downtown with little traffic. I was going against it. I missed a turn on the GPS and slipped into a free parking lot that I had parked in on a previous trip. If I listened to my little friend, Elfred I would have missed the free lot. The weather was perfect. There was no rain as we walked half a block to the entrance. I called ahead to let them know we were there and got a very friendly lady on the phone. The regular girl was out but our new friend, Penny would be happy to meet us. We waited patiently chatting up the guard in the lobby.

Our new friend was fabulous. She treated Arleigh and Hanan like adults. She gave us a tour all the way to each waiting room, slipping us in back doors so we could see just how much planning went into this new hospital. Each floor has two hallways, one for patients, typically in beds and one for the visitors. Art created for children’s eyes is displayed everywhere, some of it created by children. Penny explained carefully to the girls why people would be waiting in each room. This floor is heart surgery… this is the floor for intensive care. Then we hit the PICU. My healthy children weren’t allowed down to the waiting room. Instead, I was brought in a maze of hallways. Parents, some in tears over their newborn babies, were visible. I saw only a few of the babies. That was enough. I suddenly felt horrible. My children are healthy. I wanted to take them to play in their favorite pizza place as our family night instead of providing a brief bit of comfort to these parents in the grip of something awful. I felt horrible for them and awful about my thoughts and feelings on the half hour drive downtown. As I watched a mother pull her baby in a wagon on the cardiac unit with his iv splint, I had a difficult time holding back tears. We have been very, very blessed. I’m not sure if I felt like crying for the baby who looked so miserable, for the mother who looked even more miserable or for me and how awful I had been acting.

As we finished our delivery and collected empty baskets that would soon be returned by another family Penny asked if we had time to see her favorite piece of art. I said sure, no longer worried about getting back to go to dinner. We walked into the outpatient rehab unit. Penny was telling the girls that children, most with neurological disorders were there for therapy. We saw children in wheelchairs waiting for their names to be called. I thought of sweet little Abe and his big old smile that comforted me while we were waiting for Jack…even if he has never met me. I also thought about Jack and whispered prayers of thanks. Maybe it was fresh in my mind because we had our 6-month progress visit that morning. Maybe it was talking about how far he’s come since China and thinking about how much further we would like for him to go. I was reminded of just how blessed we are to have healthy kids. The piece of art… I already have plans to go back with baskets so Bria can see the art. It’s a wind garden with her “Peek-A-Bugs” everywhere doing the hippy hippy shake right outside a window. I also need to stop at the prayer wall to offer a prayer for all the parents facing long hard climbs and a prayer of thanks for my four.

By the time we left, Arleigh was considering public relations so that she could do what Penny does, show people the good that happens in awful situations. Hanan was talking about the baby in the wagon and the little girl at school who just got her new wheelchair, wondering if she goes to therapy there. Penny made sure to tell me that she wanted to show the girls as much as she could in our small timeframe so that if they ever needed a hospital that they wouldn’t be scared of it. She had no idea her tour opened my eyes to the blessings and the hope around me.

So, I feel like my girls have lives of their own. Between girl scouts, pom and piano I often feel like I spend a much higher percentage of time with Bria and especially Jack. I’m used to questions like, “Will we really get to meet Lilo and Stitch in Hawaii?” or “Why doesn’t Tucker have to wipe his butt when he potties?” Yes, that question was thrown at me just yesterday. If Arleigh and Hanan are home it’s more along the lines of, “Mama, what’s a detritivore?” during the homework hour. If you are wondering, I had to look it up. Imagine my surprise when some questions last night forced my hand and Arleigh, Hanan and I had THE TALK.

Let me set the scene… Arleigh has been beyond moody. Like, I’m starting to worry about periods moody. Then again, she’s only in fifth grade. Is that really possible? When I was in fifth grade I’m pretty sure I didn’t know what a period was. I was too busy plotting with Nathan Galloway how we were going to be in the summer Olympics one day hoping it would get us out of Sedalia. My mother was her mother’s daughter to the nth degree. At one point she handed me the book, Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret and said, “Good luck.” She did eventually tell me some of the very basic stuff. She had a wonderful story that I think she should turn into a book. It went something like this…you build a nest in your body to hold eggs. If you’re eggs aren’t fertilized your body loses that nest so another one can be built. That’s what your period is. Now I roll on the floor laughing every time my mom is mad at my brother and he says in his fakest sweet boy voice, “Mama, are you losing your nest?” I can tell other stories too, like how I taught myself how to shave. Nana Bonnie noticed some prickly knee hair when we were on vacation in Gatlinburg and totally ratted me out. I had been shaving at least a year before Mom figured it out.

Anyway, Arleigh’s mood had shifted from somber to something worse. If I ask what’s wrong she says nothing and proceeds directly to sulk mode. This drives me crazy because it’s something my dad did and I’m the only one allowed to sulk in this house. I am the professional, all amateurs should leave it to me. I pushed a little harder. Apparently the sour mood was all about not allowing her to watch certain television shows.

I need to back up again… we don’t have cable. We decided when we moved to Memphis that there are certainly better ways to spend our money and we hoped to create more family time. It’s been a success in some ways. We’re probably not doing as well as we hoped but television consumption is down. I asked exactly what it was she wanted to watch. Wouldn’t you know it, a commercial for Smash was just coming on. I told her I would watch it first but I’m pretty certain that anything that comes on a nine o’clock central was probably not appropriate for an eleven-year old. Plus, I record Castle and Hawaii 5-O in those time slots and I am unwilling to give either of those up!

Around this time, the real issue started to surface…Arleigh felt that my refusal to let her watch certain shows meant that I don’t trust her to make the right decisions. Arleigh is far more mature that I ever was and I’m fairly certain given the opportunity she would almost always make better decisions than I did. However… I explained that some things that you are exposed to might encourage her to make a bad decision by example. I was citing certain examples and explaining that some of her friends might be encouraged to do the wrong thing if television is their only example then they won’t know right from wrong. Oh my this stirred the pot. “What? Are you talking about Becky? It’s not Becky you should worry about. It’s Suzie! Do you know what she does at school?” (All names have been changed to protect the innocent guilty.) Arleigh went on to give several examples of the things little Suzie had done and said and descriptions that were at the very least lacking, sometimes incorrect. Well (insert cuss word of your choice here)! It is time to explain some things…after a prayer of God please help me have the right words and get through this without damaging anyone too terribly bad.

I’ve been reading a book about how to talk to your children about sex on and off for over a year. I’ve clearly been putting this off. It was clear that if they didn’t hear the correct information from me, the misinformation at school would be much, much worse. So I sat both Arleigh and Hanan down and explained the facts as scientifically as I could. Oh my word! I’m pretty sure Hanan has been traumatized for life. Questions like, “You actually do that?” “Where would you do that?” “Why?” and statements like “That sounds horrible and painful and I am never getting married!!!” would be the reason I can assume trauma. While I usually try not to announce it here, did I mention that Ray is out of town? I was left to fail miserably on my own. Oh the humanity! I’m not sure who it was worse for but I’m pretty sure it was me with Hanan running a close second. Her poor little innocent spirit. I hope it’s not crushed.

The greatest part of the event was Arleigh grabbing her iPod as I was going downstairs. I turned around, horrified. I had just said that this wasn’t a conversation to have with peers right now, some of their parents haven’t talked to them yet. I asked what on earth she was doing. “Don’t worry. I’m only texting Grandma and Nana Bonnie. They’re my best friends!” I know Grandma and Nana Bonnie love that! Considering the fact that I had to graphically explain innuendo on a television show to my mother recently as Nana Bonnie was laughing in a fetal position at her sister and Ray was turning 10 shades of red at what I was trying to explain to his mother-in-law with him in the room, I think Grandma is going to have to get a little better informed for this texting business. Prayers for all of us, especially the adults are encouraged.