Strange day in the hinterlands and elsewhere

Over the weekend, we returned to Michigan so Miss America could compete in a Tae Kwon Do competition. It was not her day. Last time, she was furious. This time, she wept on the podium. Part of that was my fault -- I got to her too fast. She was holding it together until I got over to the photo area, and she crumbled on me... pulled it together long enough to take a very sad photo on #3, and crumbled again.

Nevertheless, we had a nice time up north -- we had early Thanksgiving with my parents and went to the zoo to see the Christmas lights. It was a good trip, in spite of the disappointment of the competition.

After school today, Miss America asked me if we would always have to live here in Indiana, or if we could leave someday. Uh oh. She went on to say that the kids at her school aren't very nice or friendly, and she is spending her days alone, which makes her sad. Then she went on to say that she wanted to go and try out for the basketball team after school today. So I said, "Sure!" thinking that she'd meet some new people -- being the idiot that I am, I forgot that basketball in Indiana is like hockey back in Michigan.

So we got to her school, read over the month-long daily try-out schedule and learned that 25 girls would be trying out for six spots. Miss America knows no one there. Five minutes into it, and she's out in the lobby crying because no one is passing the ball to her and she just wanted to play basketball because she thinks it's fun. The coach was nice and coaxed her back in for the rest of the practice, but she declared that she is finished with basketball.

And then cried all the way home.

Husband departed shortly thereafter for hockey. I heard baying outside, and realized that Eddie Beagle was out wandering around somewhere. He must have escaped while Husband was loading his gear.

I don't know if I've mentioned the battle of the fence, but I have won it. Husband kept insisting that I could just walk the dogs and that we didn't need a fence. I finally pulled the extreme guilt card and I got my fence. Now I just have to find someone to install it. I asked my neighbor men about who I could hire, and they looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Well, can't your husband just put in a fence for you?" Well, no. So they are thinking about who I might hire in these here parts.

I digress. It is dark out here in the country, my dog is wandering around howling occasionally, and I take off with Crazy Boy, sobbing Miss America and a flashlight looking for my dog. We wander into my neighbor's yard, and something that sounds a whole lot like a shot gun blast goes off.

So Miss America starts screaming, "Eddie's been shot!" and my neighbor comes out with his flashlight hollering, "Who's there!? Who's shooting?" And I have visions of us getting shot while chasing our dog out here in the dark.

We yell back something along the lines of, "It's just your neighbors looking for the dog..." and it turns out the dog has gone back home at this point.

Which takes us to where we are now. Miss America is still crying and just did something to make Crazy Boy cry, too. I need to get homework done and them into bed so I can go to the grocery store once Husband gets home from hockey.

My MIL called today and asked why I sound so tired. Not a clue.

Mother as worry wart

We are here and things are good so far. As predicted, we have about twice too much stuff for our new house, so my new Salvation Army guy and I have already become friends. I'll just be so glad to be settled.

There is a little buzz happening in the back of my brain, and I'm looking for input. Keep in mind that all of my information is coming from 10-year-old Miss America. Still, she is generally a pretty accurate judge.

On Monday we toured her new school and got her signed up. Her new school is much larger than her old school, and there are more rules and regs to keep it running smoothly. She didn't like that much, but is adjusting. Two fifth-grade new student hosts showed us around for two hours. They were cute -- very perky. The new school seems to be a very perky place. There is a "scream team" for those who don't make the "cheer team." They are having a dance in two weeks. The girls are into horses and becoming cheerleaders and, well, Miss America just finds it all kind of amusing and bewildering.

Her first day, the perky girls sat with her at lunch. However, when they found out that (her words here), she doesn't want to be a jockey or a cowgirl when she grows up, they ditched her. She seems to be spending a lot of time with a wanna/gonna be goth girl whose name is something like Tiffany (I can't ever remember it), but wants to be called something like Zora. All she wears is black, and Miss America finds her amusing. The perky girls hate and are mean to Tiff/Zora. Miss America stood up for Zora today, so the perky girls apparently now hate her too.

This all came up when I made some comment about her being a leader and she said, "I was a leader at my old school. I'm not any more."

She's been there now three days. It's not like I was expecting her to take the place by storm. It was just a teensy bit unsettling to see her withdraw (I have never seen her act like this before) during the perky tour on Monday. And yet, she totally loved the perky tour.

Tonight she asked me for Ugg boots. I had noticed a bunch of the girls wearing them during the tour. We got on Ebay and ordered her a pair. Ordinarily, she wears what she likes and doesn't really think much about it. buzz buzz buzz. She asked me what she should wear to this dance. buzz buzz some more.

I can't be there to hold her hand forever. I can't guarantee what would have happened at her old school in Ann Arbor. I have no idea what would have transpired if we had moved to Atlanta.

I have spent so many years now being infuriated with no control over anything. I guess I'm hoping that if I just keep loving and supporting her, getting her (within reason) the clothes that she thinks she needs to fit in (ack -- this has never been an issue for her before), and just encouraging her to remain the great kid she is, it will all be OK.

So many parents have such huge dreams for their kids. Her oldest (since infancy) bff and her mother met us at our hotel the night before we left. Bff's mother will only be happy with Harvard and the White House in bff's future. From birth (and probably before), bff was read the New York Times during breakfast. Every day. She can discuss middle east policy with adults. For real.

My hope for Miss America is that the world will be kind to her. If she is lucky enough to have that happen, the rest will follow. Crazy Boy, for all of his developmental disability, I'm not nearly so worried about. Crazy Boy is Ferris Bueller. Yesterday we had lunch at a fast food place with a play place. There were some lovely little blond girls there his age who wanted to play with him. I told them that he loved to play, but didn't talk very much. So after about three minutes, they started talking for him -- telling me what he wanted, protecting him from bigger boys and just taking him under their well-dressed little wings.

Always. That always happens. Crazy Boy's birth father described himself as "handsome and charming" on his paperwork. My little apple didn't fall far from that tree. He has a gazillion dollar smile. He'll be fine.

My sister often says, "How did you get one that's so high maintenance and one that's so low maintenance?" No clue.

Next week, I'll get her registered for Tae Kwon Do here. It will get her back in a world she is familiar with. Over the weekend, we are traveling back to Michigan so she can compete in a TKD competition there. The one she took third in six months ago and is still fuming about. We'll have to say goodbye for now to Master A and Mr. H there. That will be very hard.

I can't promise this is the last time I'll say that I detest having to take her from a situation where she was thriving to one that is challenging. I hate hearing her say that recess is hard because she spends it alone. I guess this is one of life's learning experiences. I'd give anything to live it for her. Unfortunately, that's not the way life is.

I'm outa here

Never close on Friday the 13th. Fortunately, it all worked out.

I'm at the library, just heading out. Time for a new adventure.

Unbefrigginlievable

Because of time zone issues and closing times, we have ended up closing on our Michigan house at 9 a.m. and our Indiana house at 1 p.m. Miss America wanted to go to school on Friday and I am letting her; we will leave after school and drive straight through, getting there at about 1 a.m. on Saturday morning.

I'll have the two Beagles, four cats and two kids with me. So I had this wacky idea that Husband could find us a place with beds and a shower to stay after we drop the pets at the new house.

The furniture will arrive about 8 a.m. on Saturday morning.

Except for, guess what? There's some kind of convention going on nearby, and the only places available are $100 a night! So we'll just have to sleep on the floor. Even though the sleeping bags are already on the truck. He is refusing to get a motel for us.

Tell me again why I'm doing this?

Today's the day

I've got an amazing crew of guys here packing up my house. Yay them! :)

Of embarrassment and bad elastic

This morning, I attended my church for the final time. I intentionally left off eye makeup, thinking I might tear up when I said goodbye to dear friends there.

It was a warm day today, but I had fuzzy legs (no time to deal with them...), so I put on some grey ribbed tights I haven't worn in a couple of years and dashed out the door... and spent the entire service trying to deal with tights that insisted on rolling down. I actually ducked out at one point to hoist them back up, as I was afraid that they would drop altogether when I went up to communion. That would be embarrassing!

My tights and I got through the service with neither a tear nor a tights incident, when the final hymn came and I realized, "This is it. My children were baptized here. I had hoped they would be married here. I wanted them to go through confirmation with their friends and for me to become one of those knitting old ladies who sit near the back. And none of that is going to happen. I am going to miss this place and all it means to me."

And I started sobbing. Not a little tear here or there, nor even a little weeping. Nope, we are talking bawling, shoulders shaking, couldn't see through the tears, couldn't make it stop even though I tried. As in, strangers asked me if I was ill. I was about 18 shades of pink and purple. It was bad.

Still, I stuck around to say my goodbyes and then collected the family and went on to a nice lunch with Crazy Boy's godfamily. That helped.

And, at least my tights didn't fall down.

Uncle

The movers arrive in 60 hours. There are approximately a million things to do before now and then.

Thus, Husband has developed a case of the sniffles that has left him unable to do anything but sit on the couch, watch football and hockey, and play with his iPod.

I don't know whether to cry, scream, get drunk, or just go to bed. Thus far, I've simply consumed an entire carton of rice pudding. I got it this morning, knowing this is how the day would go.

I guess I'll just pray real hard for an outstanding packing and moving crew.