COMING ATTRACTIONS. . . .

My sister-in-law, Stacie is due in August. This will be the second child for her and my husband's brother, Ben. They have a daughter, Kaylin, who will be three this September. Kaylin seems to be excited about the upcoming arrival of her new sibling....we'll see how long that lasts once there is a bit of an attention shift after the baby arrives.

Before Stacie and Ben knew the gender of the baby, they were discussing possible names and asked Kaylin what she thought good names would be for a girl or boy. She chose the names "Pink" (for a girl) and "Purple" (for a boy.)

They now know the baby will be a boy, and we are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of little Purple. If you ask Kaylin what the baby's name is, she very nonchalantly answers, "Purple." Actually, if Ben has his way, the baby will be named "Emmitt." No word on a middle name yet, but our family has already dubbed this child "Emmitt Purple" - - that is how we always refer to him when we talk about the new baby. We say it often enough around Kaylin that I think she is probably convinced that is the baby's actual name. Who says that celebrities have the market cornered on far-out baby names?

PICTURES FROM OUR RECENT TRIP TO LAKE BARKLEY, KENTUCKY

The "Buckaroo" Gang

Chris - hanging on while Gretchen (successfully) works to dump him in the lake
Greg - skiing
Gretchen - skiing
Greg & Gretchen
Mike, AKA Gilligan
Barbie - lovin' the glasses

Becky, waiting to ski
Becky, skiing (FINALLY!)
Chris - skiing

VACATION!

We are on vacation on Lake Barkley in Kentucky right now. We are on our first "adults only" vacation that we have been on since Maggie was born. (A BIG THANKS to both of our parents for making that possible.) We went with two other couples who are friends of ours - we have a lake front cabin with beautiful views of the lake. One of the couples brought their boat, and I already got my shoulders a little red from the lake yesterday. Stronger sunscreen is definitely in order today.

Forgive my lack of updates for the week!

STEPPIN' OUT

I took Maggie shopping for a new pair of tennis shoes this afternoon. For about eight or nine months, Maggie and I have been wearing the same size shoe - size 7.5. No longer. Today she passed me up. The new Nikes we purchased for her today are 8.5. The size 8 fit perfectly, but realizing that to get any length of wear out of them, she would need some room to grow, we bought the 8.5. Yes, friends.....my 7 year old daughter wears a size 8.5 shoe. I think height wise, she is likely to pass me up by the time she starts third grade. Chris has laughed and teased me about Maggie wanting to borrow my clothes and shoes. I had to laugh today as I realized she is going to be borrowing his shoes, rather than mine in the future.

BACKGROUND CHECK

The difference between two kids raised in the same house can, at times, be astounding. One distinct thing that separates my children is the level of interest they show in finding out information about their birthparents. We have had both of our children since birth, so neither one have any actual memories of their birthmoms.

Maggie asks a ton of questions about her birth mom and her background. I can remember the exact moment when Maggie realized that she wasn't "the same" as Chris and me. She was about two years old and sitting on her potty chair before she got in the bathtub. She was completely naked, and for whatever reason, she looked down at her belly, then over at the dog and declared, "I'm brown like Dempsey. You're not brown like me and Dempsey." And so it started.

Maggie has always had an intense curiosity about birth mom. We have tried to answer her questions as honestly as we could, at the level she was ready for. A lot of her questions we don't have answers for, simply because our knowledge about her birth mom is limited. Some questions she asks over and over again, as if wanting to solidify certain facts in her mind, lest she forget them. I would say that at least once every two weeks, she asks me some question about her birth mom, her adoption, or something that relates in someway to her background.

Being only seven, Maggie doesn't have a real solid grasp on how the whole adoption thing works. In reality, you fill out scads of paperwork and have every angle of your life examined top to bottom. You give intimate details of your marriage and upbringing to complete strangers at the agency. You have people come to your home and measure and inspect. You take classes to educate you on adoption and parenting. You pay money. And then you wait for the phone to ring.

I think in Maggie's mind, she envisions us walking among the little baby beds in the hospital nursery, carefully inspecting each baby before we finally settled on her. I have tried to paint a more accurate picture for her, but I can't seem to dispel this fairy tale notion that has settled in her head. I know that when she is older, she will be better able to understand.

As for Aleita, the child has yet to ever ask a one question about adoption. Now granted, she is only four, but by the time Maggie was the age Aleita is now, the questions had already started to come. In fact, Aleita has yet to ever mention one word about the fact that she is a different skin color than Chris and me. She has, on occasion, made reference to her own brown skin color, but it has never been in contrast to the white of Chris and myself or to question why we are different from each other. She has been in the room or in the car several times when Maggie has asked questions of her birthmom and such, but seems to have no interest in pursuing the conversation further regarding her own adoption or birthparents. One time, when sitting at the table at dinner, Maggie tried to pique Aleita's curiosity about her birthmom by throwing out a few random things that she remembers from when Aleita was born. I pulled Maggie aside and told her that when Aleita was ready and wanted to know more, she would ask the questions and that it wasn't Maggie's job to instigate it. As for Aleita, she has made reference several times to the fact that she came from heaven - - I think as far as she is concerned, that is all the background information she needs to know.

I am not bothered by Maggie's need for answers about her history, or for the lack thereof on Aleita's part. I just find it interesting the difference between the level of curiosity of each of them regarding this topic.

MOOCH

Look up the word "mooch" in the dictionary, and you may very well come to Aleita's picture. She has become our resident begger, in particular when food is involved. It is no secret that Aleita loves to eat. As soon as we are finished with breakfast, she asks what is for lunch. Likewise, it is not uncommon that when we are halfway through lunch, she wants to know what is for dinner. It is not unusual to hear cheers of excitation come from her when she finds out that one of her favorites is on the menu for the upcoming feed. Announce that we are having pizza or "basagna" or chilli for supper, and she will happily dance around the house all afternoon, making up songs about that particular food. (Yes, I know...it doesn't take much, right?)

But in addition to loving her favorite foods, Aleita has also discovered that whatever is on your plate perhaps tastes better than what she herself just consumed. Take for example, breakfast. She usually gets some choice of what she has, within reason (she knows better than to ask for, say, pancakes, on a weekday morning.) Ordinarily, she will eat a bowl of oatmeal or cereal, or perhaps an English muffin with jelly. No matter what she has just eaten though, it never stops her from coming around to my side of the table when she is finished and asking for a bite of whatever I am eating. Sometimes it is the very same thing that she herself just ate. Sometimes it is a different type of cereal - - no matter. She will beg, whine and cajole until she is either given a bite, or sent to the other room so that she doesn't stand there and stare at you as you finish your meal.

That glass of water that you're drinking? She wasn't thirsty until she saw you with one. Now she would like a drink of yours, please and thank you. Ask her mid-afternoon if she would like some carrots or an apple and the answer is usually "no thank you." However, walk into the room while you are eating the aforementioned food and she immediately has to have some as well.

The same holds true in restaurants. Soup or salad come with your meal? Guess who is going to ask you for a bite? You got mashed potatoes while she chose the fries? Hers are good, but she wants to try a bite of yours just to make sure she isn't missing anything. She of course, likes the burger she is eating, but she needs to know how the chicken pot pie you are eating tastes as well. Again...and again...and again.

I know that we are to blame for allowing it to be so. We have surpassed so many other common mistakes that often drag parents down, like allowing your kid to sleep in bed with you or serving them hot dogs or chicken nuggets for every meal because they refuse to eat anything else; I guess we were due.

So a word of warning - - if you join us for dinner, guard your plate. There is a little four year old lurking close by, just waiting to move in on your plate. Beware the mooch.

I'LL TAKE "POP CULTURE" FOR $800, ALEX

I caught part of an episode of Jeopardy! yesterday, and it occurred to me that I have a penchant for retaining useless information, but when it comes to remembering facts about people and places and dates and cultures, well, I am a total child of the Internet. Want to know that names of six Brady kids? I'm your gal. Want to know the current King of Spain? It is Juan Carlos I. I know that because I looked it up on Wikipedia on the Internet. I will also forget it about ten minutes after finishing this blog entry.

I would never fare well on Jeopardy! Sure, I am able to answer some of the questions. I'm not a complete idiot. However, I would do much better if I could use the pause button on my DVR during the live show like I do when I watch it to give me a few additional seconds to think of the answer. There are certain categories of historical significance that I can manage to actually pull off. Somewhere, deep in my brain, some information from a high school or college history class must have stuck.

Nonetheless, I am loath to admit that I seem much better suited to answering pop culture questions. I can tell you all the people who were shipwrecked on Gilligan's Island. I can name at least three of Brangelina's kids. I can tell you the lyrics to Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" and the name of the three horse races that comprise the Triple Crown. On the Jeopardy board, I would ring in constantly for the category on the music of the Eagles, yet stand painfully, numbly staring off into space while the other two contestants answered all the questions about World War II. As teenagers, they were apparently reading biographies and watching The History Channel while I was reading Seventeen and watching reruns of The Cosby Show. (But I can name all of the Huxtable kids if asked - -doesn't that count for something?)

MONKEY SEE, MONKEY DO

I took a week's vacation from work this week to assist with our church's Vacation Bible School program. We actually combine with several other churches in the area, and have about 135 kids there everyday. I was unable to attend the organizational meeting they had a few weeks ago, but I wasn't all that picky about where I was put. My only request was that I not have to be with the pre-school kids for all three hours each day. (God bless people like my friend, Barb, who teach in a pre-k program everyday. There is special place in heaven for her.) When I was teaching in the public schools, I found that I was much better off with students old enough to understand sarcasm. Go figure.

Anyway, I was asked to assist with the music portion of Bible School. The music portion consists of me and another VBS helper, Carl, who teach the kids the VBS songs. All of the songs are pretty simple and repetitive, but catchy enough that the kids like singing them over and over again. I wish the same were true for Carl and me. Of course, we are getting to sing them six times over every day because we work with the kids in groups by age level. Carl and I are gettin' a little tired of singing about God's Big Backyard (our VBS theme this year.) Only one more day....I think I can make it.

I discovered something very comical today as we were teaching one of the songs. I didn't realize just how strongly the kids relied on us to do the motions to the songs (oh yes, a VBS song would be complete if there weren't a bunch of motions to remember.) Carl and I stand up in front of the group and do the motions so that the kids can mimic us. Today as we were working on a song, my nose itched and so I scratched it. Three of the kids stopped what they were doing and scratched their nose too. They went right back to the correct motions once I did, never missing a beat. I almost thought I imagined it, until a few seconds later when I itched it again, and two of them again did the same thing. I started laughing and they just looked at me like, "what?" Of course, they were five year olds, but still.... None of the nose itching kids got the humor in why I was laughing, so I just went on.

I always wanted to be a trendsetter, but this isn't quite what I had in mind.

SAD

We just got home from picking Dempsey up from the vet. He had to be sedated today to get more x-rays and a biopsy done. $350 later, we brought our dog home with the diagnosis of canine lymphoma. In short, our beloved boxer dog Dempsey has cancer.

Our vet said our only options at this point are:

A) take him to the U of I vet school and spend $4,000 - $5,000 in chemotherapy that may or may not work, and could possibly actually shorten his life.

B) continue to give him prednisone and the cough suppressant that he has been getting and let nature run its course until his quality of life becomes an issue.

We chose to do that latter. Our veterinarian said that if was hard to tell how much time he had left because the tumor has been so fast growing, yet seems to have been temporarily slowed by the meds he has gotten the past few days. She estimates anywhere from a month to a year, though a year was the absolute best we could hope for.

Dempsey has been with Chris and me since our first anniversary. He has lived in all three of the houses we have owned, and was there when we brought both our children home from the hospital. He sleeps in his dog bed on the floor next to my side of the bed every night. Every day when we come home, even if we have only been gone a short period of time, he still wags his entire backside for us because he is so happy to see us. He is obedient and smart and loyal and I can't believe he's dying.

Today I am sad.

Aleita & Dempsey -- Aleita had just come home from the hospital after having her tonsils removed. Dempsey seemed to sense that she needed him. In this picture, she is watching TV while using him as a pillow.

CAN YOU DIG IT?

I witnessed something tonight that made me shudder - - something I had hoped to never witness my husband doing. He had just gotten home from work and came into the house. I was sitting talking with him, when he reached up with the car keys he had in his hand and proceeded to scratch inside his ear with them.

He could tell I was repulsed - - I am not sure if it was the expression on my face, or the gasp I gave and then telling him " don't you ever do that in front of me again." He looked surprised at me and then said, "What? My ear itches."

I explained that seeing men pick their ear with a car key completely and totally grosses me out. (I have no doubt that there are some women who likely do it as well, though I have yet to actually see it happen - - thank goodness.) I witnessed my dad do the same ear-pick key thing for years and had to bite my tongue about how vile I considered it. However, with my husband, I felt more than obliged to let him know that what he considered an innocent scratch of his ear with the car key was utterly deplorable to me. In a word, YUCK.

Belch in front of me. Fart if you must. Just please don't stick your car keys in your ear for a quick scratch.