Three more

The kids are coming home today. Whoopee!

And... the kids are coming home.

Did I mention that the kids are coming home?

Good news

After about an hour of unmitigated panic, two boys were found safe and sound.

The repairs to the van were about one third the expected expense, with the understanding that the poor thing requires persistent babying through it's golden years.

The concussion is "relatively mild." The teeth can be pretty well repaired. These things have occupied us rather thoroughly over the last week, but less so now. All is not precisely well, but grace covers things, and it will be well. Phew.

Thank God, thank God, thank God.

Edited to add: At 1:30 the next morning I'm still burning adrenaline like it's kerosene over the first good thing on the list. What a week, huh?

Tribute

Randy was a good man. His legacy will linger in his own words and in the lives of those he touched. But most of all in his family.

Well

The van has been making a funny noise and the battery light has been on for a while now. Today, the noise became alarming and I took it in, relying on the coast down the big hill to get me to the shop. Turns out the rack and pinion are outta here and the alternator has been overcharging the battery (!?) and wrecking itself. Between the two, the repair costs total nearly half the value of the vehicle.

So I don't know what to do. I need something I can afford, which would be more or less zero in monthly payments, but I could wring a little bit out of the budget. Without a down payment or credit history (marital status changes one's credit rating), a payment becomes downright unimaginable.

The recommendations I'm getting from mechanics are, on the low end price-wise, to go for a Chrysler product that will just get us from point A to point B. On the other end, one that seems more functional for the long term, is the Dodge Sprinter or similar vehicle. In between lies the Toyota Sienna. It's accessible enough to take us through perhaps the next five years, up to the place where Q has become too heavy to lift in and out of a seat/chair. The mileage is good, the repair histories nearly unbelievably trouble free. The price is still way out there.

I'm kicking around perhaps paying for the repairs and taking the next six months to scrimp and save, praying that something gives. I've asked the repair shop to see what else might be ready to crack inside there, to give me some idea what else I might be staring down and how soon. They'll get back to me in the morning.

It's funny. I've had some offers for help with school stuff, inquiries about what we might be needing. Before we left this morning, I almost posted that I've got most of the supplies (still looking at some Usborne books -- wink), but that now, the real fun begins: ramps, lifts, access to home and vehicle are the big, big, and now looming ever larger issues.

And here we are. The boy is about 28 pounds. He's growing, but not as fast as I'd feared or hoped -- it's a double-edged sword. I'd planned to get him some software to use with his new buttons and a backpack that I could then have modified to haul him on normal family endeavors -- hiking and etc. I'm thinking about all that again. He would benefit from those things in a very large and definite way, no doubt there. But therapy is important too and all those doctor's appointments... We have to have some way to get there.

I dunno.

I'm off to think some more, make more physical order while things feel all out of sorts, and entertain the boy who is running out of patience with his formerly delightful orange maracas.

Ole.

See mommy run

Q and I had a big fun day: paperwork, OT, groceries, pharmacy, berries, Speech, bank, and we topped it off with a fast walk around the lake. We covered two miles in just under half an hour, including those little hills. I was racing to get back to the van so I could call the big kids. We ended up out of breath and giddy, both of us. Me from working up a thorough sweat on my way to endorphins (and children), him from the wind in his face and trying to keep track of all those puppies out walking their people. Anyway, we were just goofy by the time I got him buckled from stroller/chair into his carseat.

It's nice to get out and really move fast. The giggly part was fun too, even if it meant lots of drool -- which reminds me, it's time to wash the straps for his equipment (pausing to stretch). Now the boy's out and it's my turn. The morning brings more raspberry jam and tidying, errands and phone calls, hopefully also finalizing the last of the curricula. G'night. Sweet dreams.

(Unless you went to bed at a sensible time and rose accordingly, in which case: Good morning!!)

The day

The sunset last night was a river of juice: syrupy tart grenadine, an array of mango to papaya then pineapple, topped with what surely must have been freshly squeezed sapphires. The vast and gentle curve of the earth upheld the luminous ribbon of colors, each bleeding into the next, suspended seemingly ad infinitum...

It was a good ending to an odd and frustrating day. It's never easy to pack the kids up to send them off for weeks at a time. (See previous post for my opinion on that.) But it was a nice flight. The flight attendant was sweet and attentive, moving kids around so we were all positioned more closely together and no one was seated alone. She told me, behind her hand, that if anyone put up a fuss, she'd bribe them with a drink. Heh. The ubiquitous screens seem to act as a sedative for the crowd, offering something for everyone. They worked their magic quickly. The best part, the part which would allow me to recommend this airline to everyone, forevermore (Virgin America*), is that the very same flight attendant walked the aisle with a baby when he started to fuss. The mama had held him the entire time and it had gone well, but when he awoke, he wasn't all that thrilled to be where he was and the mama was plain tired out from the usual race to the plane and clenching a sleeping infant for upwards of two hours. So the flight attendant took him and walked with him. And then she stopped and let me drool all over him and burble baby talk and tickle his little naked feet. Now that's the kind of crew we all hope to have. Every single time we fly.

After we landed, there were the expected adamant requests for the nearest bathroom. The first three women's restrooms were closed for either construction or cleaning. By the time everyone pottied and we got through to baggage, I was cutting it close. There was no apparent way out of the baggage claim area and back into the actual airport so I could find my flight home. There were a couple of elevators with warning signs on them. There were lots of limo drivers waiting, holding up signs. There was no one at the various baggage offices or travelers aid counters. Finally, in desperation I walked toward the customs guy who was sitting behind a big panel of glass doors marked quite sternly "DO NOT ENTER." He shook his head at me and motioned me away. I kept smiling, walking toward him with my hands out, shaking my head. He approached the door and through it asked me what I needed. I explained that there was no other person to ask for help and where I was trying to go. He opened the door a little and told me to "stand under the blue sign and get on the shuttle" and that it would take me where I needed to go. So I did.

As I hopped up the steps, grabbed the pole, and the bus pulled away from the curb, it occurred to me, "How do you know this is the right shuttle? If this is the wrong bus, you're dead meat." So I turned and addressed the entire crowd. "Excuse me, does anyone know how to get to _____?" The passengers were kind, giving unmistakeably clear directions, while the driver pulled ahead, honking long and loud at the next shuttle to keep it from moving before I could sprint to get on board. The next driver was also kind, dropping me off on the other side of the airport and about a hundred feet closer to the correct ticket counter than he had to. I ran two flights of stairs (what is up with the access issues?), then the length of the counter, and still missed the plane. But again, the lady at the counter was just so nice. The guy who checked my ID and boarding pass complimented me on my "beautiful smile." (Aw. Curtseying, blushing...) Even the security line and TSA people were super. Maybe it was all the adrenaline, but it seemed like everyone was just being extra... kind, I guess. Maybe I had a sign over my head: Shhh. Be nice to her. Pat her gently as she passes by.

I must have said thank you a thousand times before I got through the security maze. I noted also that I need to have a different response to the airport employees' good wishes; somehow my automatic "You too," when they've just wished me a good flight doesn't seem quite appropriate.

While I waited the two hours for the next available flight I noticed some things. Mostly that it's a tragedy that the courtyards are locked up. I thought that the agapanthus and jasmine would be a welcome change from the combined stench of jet exhaust and whatever had apparently died that day in the ventilation system. When I spotted the blossoms I actually lurched reflexively toward the windows, thinking/feeling something alongs the lines of, "Hallelujah!" Maybe the airport powers that be are afraid folks will smoke despite the signs posted out there (which would also lead one to believe that the doors are unlocked, at least upon occasion) or choke to death on the wretched air, but seriously, it's mean to tease people with flowers.

So the drenching wave of the sunset was sort of a hymn, for me. It wrapped me and the day in ethereal velvet, placing parentheses of glowing grace around those things less pleasant, giving everything soft edges and cushioning the fragility one sometimes feels at the least (or most) expected moments.

Q's out now so I'm going out too. Sweet dreams, all you dear people.

XO,
me



*I've also had some truly great experiences with Alaska Airlines, but no one on any flight I've ever been on has been as nice as this particular lady.

Getting ready

Grandpa has G at the ortho office with a loose bracket. Again. We did this a week ago. After much quizzing, it comes out that both events were preceded immediately by ingestion of soup and it's attendant bread bowl. Argh. Bread bowls bad. Bad, bad, bad.

S is running around, "packing" like a squirrel on speed. Come to think of it, this is sort of a permanent setting for her. Busy. Oh, so busy. And always finding miscellany to stuff into sundry containers, preferably ones that zip. Drawstrings are also acceptable. (I'm remembering K and E also having this phase. For E it involved a tiny backpack full of currants. Yes, you read that right.) So this morning she's been reminded that she still needs to grab her toothbrush when she exclaims, index finger in the air and eyes wide, "Yes. And I'll be getting the princess one, just like I am..." And she's already left the room at a sprint.

There are only rare moments when I'm not cracking up at whatever she has to share or pronounce. The other day she declared it a "pity" that Grandma was at work. Because, you know there are so many other, better things to be doing with one's time.

I love this part. I keep thinking that I'd better be getting all this stuff down, and quick, before it fades away. I used to keep a calendar with all the kids' quotes on the fridge so I could record all the delightful randomness as it occurred. These days, the fridge calendar has pretty much only appointments on it. Sigh. I suppose it was another casualty of the world tilting on it's axis? Or maybe I just switched venues and now I'm putting it down here?

In any case, it's time to reclaim this part of the unadulterated loveliness that represented family life and roll in it, baby.

So there.