I forgot to take out the trash...again.

Though Tim is gone, so it isn't as though the can is overflowing. I almost tracked the truck down; after all, he was only about 5 houses down. But then I thought, "Forget it. I'll just set it out next Tuesday."

C., J. and I left to take J. to school. After I dropped him off, I went to DJ's to vaccuum her house. Do I love cleaning, or what? No really, she broke her arm and can't do everything needed to be done, so I went over there this morning. By the way, there's a REALLY funny story there-not that a friend should laugh at another friend's broken bones, but HA! This one is really funny. . .

Anyway, I left DJ's and went to PetSmart to buy dog food. Then, my gas light came on. So, I stopped to get gas. After this, I thought, "I should put air in that low tire while I'm here," but a van was blocking the air compressor.

So, I went to three more gas stations searching for air, killing time until 12:15 when I needed to pick up J. from school. One had no air station, a semi was using another one, the third one just seemed kind of shady... I drove to preschool.

Two blocks away from the school, there was another gas station. With an air compressor. I got C. out of the car to get quarters from the man behind the counter inside. I never leave my kids alone in the car, even for a minute. It seems dangerous; bad things could happen. C. was nice enough to hold my keys for me while I exchanged my dollar bill for change. I put C. back in the car, shut the door, put air in all the tires, put the little valves back on, and went to drive away. Timmy, you'd be really proud at how expertly I put air in those tires!
At least to this point in the story.

I went to my door and- door locked.

Passenger door, back door, trunk door-locked.

C. is inside, it's 68 degrees and climbing, and my car is locked. (Insert explitive of choice here. Grrrr.....) C. is looking at me through the glass, smiling as if to say, "Didn't you hear the horn honk when I locked the door earlier when you were silly enough to let me hold your keys?"

No, I didn't.

I'm staring at my car thinking, "70 degrees isn't too hot to suffocate in a car, right?" "I've got to get J. at school in 15 min." "I'll call the school." "My phone is in the car." "I have to leave this car, with my baby in it, to go inside and make a phone call. There's got to be another way."

The man behind the counter of the gas station shouts to me (because I'm shouting at him, standing in the doorway thirty feet away so I can see C). "This happens all the time!" he says. "If there's a baby in the car, call 911. Otherwise call a locksmith." This nice man lets me use his cell phone to call 911, and I wait outside.

Not five minutes later a fire truck comes screaming into the gas station, lights, sirens-the whole lets-bring-on-as-much-attention-as-possible-to-this-negligent-mother-who-just-doesn't-feel-bad-enough-already-shaBang. Five firemen leap off of the truck and rush to get the car door hook hanger opener thingy. I say, "This is like a rescuing a kitty out of a tree job. I'm sorry."


They reassured me that it was priority; not petty; that I called the right people; this is what they're for; there's a child in the car, so I did the right thing. By the way, here's the paperwork you need to fill-out.

Question #1: Driver's license # _____________________
I've got that right here...uhm....no I don't. Where's my driver's license? AHHH! It's with my plane ticket in the baby carrier in the kitchen at home "for airplane check-in convenience" I explain to the friendly fireman. I'm appearing more and more responsible by the minute, I can tell.

They had the door open in five minutes and did a medical five point check on C., which was funny because I was the one freaking out-mildly. C. was laughing, enjoying seeing fire engines and firemen come to his rescue.

Almost recovered enough to laugh at the situation, I'm at the preschool by 12:18. Whew!

We're home just after 12:30, and I check the ergo baby carrier for my license. Not there. I check my carry-on bag, the suitcase, the pants I wore home. Not there. Not there. Now I'm wondering how I'm going to find the time to re-take the driver's test to get a NC license with two toddlers and Tim gone. Let alone pass the written test. I can never remember how many feet a pole is allowed to be when it's sticking out of the back of your vehicle. Then I remember, THE TRASH!

I rush outside and dig out the bag that had the papers I cleaned out of my carry-on luggage two days ago. Sure enough, tucked inside the envelope with my boarding pass, was my good old Missouri driver's license with two years of goodness left in it.

Yes God, I see now that you wanted me to have that driver's license and you used my hectic morning, an early trash man, C.'s eagerness to play with keys, firemen, and a low air pressure light to lead me to it. Maybe not the way I would have led a dumb sheep to the green grass, but whatever. You're God. And I can legally drive again.

Arizona

I LOVE Arizona!

I love the weather, the culture, and the attitute. You can be who you are, and be completely accepted. Fashion, vanity, pretentiousness, and narrow mindedness are rarely seen and it creates a refreshing, relaxing environment. I lived there with Tim for a few months years ago, and whenever he has to go back on business, I try to follow (for a few days, at least)! There was snow in Mexico and it made for beautiful scenery.

C. went with me because he still flies free, and J. enjoyed a week with Granny. Both boys ended up getting spoiled! But a little spoiling never hurt anybody.

Tim, C. and I ate out at great Mexican places about everyday. We learned that C. loves strawberry smoothies and HOT Jalapenos! Yes, I tried to take them away from him when he cried and said, "Hot! Hot!" but then he cried even more, signed "please" and begged for them. And from then on, no matter what I fed him, he'd put it in his mouth, spit it out, say "no hot!" and beg for salsa and jalapenos. Good thing he likes milk because it's the only thing that takes the fire out!

C. and I went to Bisbee one day. It's my favorite town near there. It used to be the largest city between St. Louis and San Francisco-in the late 1800's. Now it's a bunch of free-thinkers, miners, Mobius strip worshippers, street preformers, artisans and coffee huts. It's wonderful! Not that I'm advocating worshipping a shape, mind you. Since Bisbee is a mining town they have great gems and I always get a piece when I go. That and honey. There's a guy who raises bees and makes a dozen flavors of honey. I bought 4 jars. Don't forget to bring home your two honey jars, Tim! C.'s favorite part was the street performer who, no I'm not making this up, had a big black dog. A shabby tabby cat rode around ON TOP of the dog, and a little mouse named Winchester rode around ON TOP of the cat and did little mouse tricks! I didn't have my camera, so I don't have a pic, but really-its true! C. said, "Woof, Woof!" and signed "mouse." He didn't want to walk away he was so mezmorized by this demonstration of peace on earth.

Well, we're home now. Tim's mom leaves Monday, and my mom comes in Thursday-just in time to babysit so my girlfriends and I can go out for dinner to celebrate a very ugly birthday for me. You know, 29 for the 2nd time...Have a great week!

Happy 1st Welcome Home Day!

The anniversary of when a family meets and brings home their adopted child is traditionally called their "Got'cha Day!" But I hate that term. It sounds like I swooped into Manila and snatched J. up like a thief in the night. Or squashed a mosquito. "Got'cha! HA! Ha! Ha!" I don't want to use a term that denotes our stealing him from his native culture and first home, so we use Welcome Home Day, for now.

This will be one of those holidays that J. will choose whether or not we celebrate openly as he gets older, but it will certainly always be special to Tim and I, as our lives were made so much more complete by J.'s homecoming.

This year, J. had his Valentine's Day party at school on his Welcome Home Day, so he had a lot of sweets there. But we still made a giant #1 cookie while C. was taking a nap.

We decorated it with red frosting, and since he loves to blow out candles, we put a #1 in there and let him blow it out. We looked at his scrap book that the nuns at his former orphanage put together for him. He pointed to people he remembered, but most of all he loved to find himself in the pictures and say, "J_____!"



I told him a child's version of his life story and we practiced saying some of the more important words like, "Philippines" and "Filipino", "home", "one", and "Heaven."


God knew what He was doing when he decided to give J. to us as our son. Sometimes I grieve the 2 1/2 years we missed with him, but not so much that I don't treasure each day I have with him now.


Tim called while J. was icing his cookie to tell him Happy Welcome Home Day.

I told J., "Daddy is on the phone to tell you, 'Happy Welcome Home Day.'"

Immediately J. broke into, "Dada home. Dada airplane. Home. Dada home, no more night-night!" (He knows Tim will be home in 25 night-nights.)

"Uh, no...you're home! Isn't that just as exciting?!" I offered trying to save the moment. They had a nice talk about school, counting to ten and the color red.

What made the moment perfect though was when after he hung up with Tim, while eating his cookie, he said, "Mommy-J. happy!"

That's all we've ever wanted for you: a family, health, faith, safety and happiness. So, for today-mission accomplished.

Sounds

J. has been able to say his alphabet for a few weeks now, well...except for "w", but that one is difficult. Considering he was more or less silent when he came home a year ago, he's come a LONG way. His speech therapist says that he's coming along faster than any other kid she's seen with his disorder. So, thanks to her, Leap Frog phonics videos and homework everyday, he's well on his way to intelligible sentences. And yes, that is a tarantula in C.'s mouth! He's not afraid of it anymore, Tom! He likes to take the remote control and make the spider walk across people's feet and then scream, "AHHHH!" as if to say, "Watch out! There's a spider on you!" Boys will be boys...
(Below, click play twice to see the video.)