His "Almost" International Incident

(Mr. J in the middle, with his cabin guys)
He is home! Tired, dirty, elated, and wonderful, that's my boy.

I arrived at the airport about 45 minutes early. I'm always early, but when it comes to airlines, I tend to be REALLY early. It must come from my anxiety that I will either miss a flight, get stuck in traffic, have car trouble, or arrive late to pick someone up. Needless to say, I do a great deal of waiting at the airport. Which doesn't bother me. It is the ultimate 'people watching' site.

You'll see folks from all over the world, dressed in various outfits. I saw many from India, an orthodox Jewish family, tattoos, piercing, Asian, African, and European. The reunions are always sweet! The old couple, the young man with the roses, the little girl screaming, "DADDY" as she runs towards him, and the best one, the Grandma who sees her grandchild for the first time. I suppose that the airport gives a fairly good picture of what we humans are all about: We love our family and friends, we cherish our children, many of us cry when we are happy, and we all look weary after flying for hours.

Which brings me back to my sons international flight yesterday. It was delayed in Germany. I believe the reason may be due to the fact that my son nearly caused an international incident.

You see, it began at roughly 11:30 (Czech time) when he was PUID - Packing Under the Influence of Dramamine - Mr. J accidentally packed a set of medieval arrow heads in his, you guessed it, carry on. They were a gift for his father (an archer). They were metal, sharp, and around 3 inches long. Amazingly, the Prague airport security waved him through without even batting an eye.

The German airport security was a bit sharper (pardon the pun). Not only did they SEE the weapons on the x-ray, they removed them from the bag and checked them out carefully. All the while, Mr. J is waiting for the machine guns to be leveled in his direction as they march him off to the unseen airport torture chamber.

Fortunately, for my 16-year-old, sleep deprived, anxious, young man, they simply told him that, "THESE ARE NOT ALLOWED!" Whew! He apologized profusely and was allowed to pass the security station and board his flight home.

At PDX we waited...

And waited...

And waited...

Who knew customs took so long! Finally, the team came walking down the hallway. It reminded me of that scene from the movie, The Right Stuff. Except they were more disheveled. To me, they looked wonderful!

I got my hug and didn't shed a tear. Sigh. I love this boy.

The drive home was filled with laughter and amazing stories. When his father walked in the front door, Mr. J yelled, "Daddy!" and gave him a huge bear hug. We ate pizza and listened to tale after tale of the kids at camp and the new foods he had tried. He was so tired that we couldn't help laughing at him. He brought us gifts and pounds of dirty laundry. At 8:00 pm last night I demanded that he go to bed. Twenty minutes later he was snoring.

Mr. J will never be the same and neither will I.

Welcome home buddy! We missed you!

- Oh, he also knows now that if he ever leaves home again and doesn't call that he will be grounded for the rest of his natural life :)

Finally!

Today is the day!

Mr. J arrives home in 6 hours! Yes, it's 5:30am and I'm wide awake. Yes, we have decorated the house with streamers. Yes, we are having Mr. J's favorite dinner tonight! Yes, I AM SO EXCITED!

Two weeks is a long time when you are use to being around someone 24/7. I think that is part of what has made this trip so hard for me. Being home educators, we spend a lot of time together. Mr. J has a social life, takes classes, etc., but for the most part, we as a family, are together. So, having him gone for two weeks, not even talking to him once has been difficult.

And it isn't just me...

Last Tuesday, hubby finally lamented, "You would think he'd call or something!"

HA! Yeah, you'd think!

To rub a bit of salt in the wound, we got a call from one of the other families asking if we had heard from Mr. J. "Well, no. As a matter of fact, we haven't." She then proceeded to inform us that they were all safe, back in Prague, and tired. "They'd had a good week working at the camp," she said.

Happy to hear this bit of news, we headed out the door to a concert, only to be hit with another bit o' news there. Seems like several of the team managed to get word home to their parents. It seems that several called home or emailed. Others managed to phone home, why not Mr. J??

One friend laughed at me and told me her 19-year-old married daughter NEVER calls her. Well, sure, I thought. She's an old married woman. There is a difference. My son is sixteen and I can still ground him!

I don't think a phone call or an email was too much to ask. I did my part at the airport. No weeping or blubbering in front of the team. I spared him that emotional moment at security when I noticed that he was starting to get emotional. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do. Perhaps he wanted me to stand there and tear up and wave - like my father does...

So, here I sit. Five, flippin' thirty in the morning, wondering. Will he be happy to see me? Will he act indifferent in front of the others on the team? How will I get through the next six hours? And why is the hubby still snoring in bed? How can he sleep at a time like this?

I'm Back in the Saddle Again

Last spring I decided to retire from the small business that a friend and I had started just over five years ago. In some ways it was a difficult decision. I liked the people I came in contact with, was passionate about the business (publishing, marketing books, etc.), and enjoyed being someone other than Mr. J and Miss C's mommy.

For the past several months I have worked at home as an independent contractor for a large office supply retailer. While customer service wasn't exactly my cup of tea, it did provide a paycheck to help pay for Miss C's braces. I set my own hours, so I was free to pursue other interests and I didn't have to wear pantyhose and heels every day :).

If you read my previous blog concerning "outsourcing" then you are already aware of the fact that as of Friday, I will no longer be working for that evil company who took American jobs overseas! Sorry, soap box moment there!

I have certified for another work at home job. This time as a customer service rep for a television retail store. While I have processed a few calls for them, I don't like the work. Not at all. But what can I do? I've committed to paying the orthodontist every month for the next year or so. Not to mention, we've become attached to the extra income.

So, where am I going with all this?

Well, my heart is in the world of publishing. I love books, love writing, love being passionate about something I believe in. Which is why this past weekend may have been an important turning point in my life.

I mentioned previously that I had attended a homeschool conference this last weekend. While I was there I saw many old friends, but one couple were REALLY glad to see me. The H's were watching and hoping I would be there. They had an offer for me....

An offer...

As their publishing house has grown, she writes- he illustrates, they are finding themselves with less time to create as they have been forced to put their energies toward marketing and research. In the very near future their books will be translated into a couple of new languages (they currently have literature in both English and Spanish), Focus on the Family (just yesterday) agreed to carry their work, and they are still wrapping up the finishing touches on a new series. Soooo they need help and they want me!

Huzzah!

I am so excited to be the Marketing Director for this publishing house. The possibilities are endless and the money isn't bad either. Of course there are all the other perks too: Working in a field that I know and love, setting my own hours, working from home, working with people I really care about, and adding a new job title to my resume!

HUZZAH!

I'm back in the saddle again

Out where a friend is a friend

Where the longhorn cattle feed

On the lowly gypsum weed

Back in the saddle again!

Rip City?

I am not a basketball person. In fact, I truly despise the sport. Whenever you plant a grown man in front of the television to watch a sporting event, you are asking for trouble. It is truly mind numbing to watch men yell and pout over a "game".

While there have been some players (in the NBA) who can truly be called, Gentlemen of the Sport, most are, how shall I say it...Over-grown teenagers with a testosterone problem.

They pay these "boys" millions and millions of dollars to chase a ball up and down the court. Silly, isn't it? Worse still, the Portland Trail Blazers have had more than their share of drug addicts, jail birds, and wife beaters. How is it possible that one team could drum up so many problem players?

Domestic assault, possession, trespassers, DRIVING WITHOUT A LICENSE OR INSURANCE (you have got to be kidding me! It isn't like they can't afford to purchase car insurance!)?? Driving while intoxicated, animal abuse? What is going on?

Can someone tell me how these "players" are supposed to be good will ambassadors to Portland neighborhoods? These are heroes? Please!

Perhaps with the drafting of Martell Webster things will turn around in Portland. Maybe he'll be like Clyde the Glide, Terry Porter, or some other legend. Can Portland break their image as the laughing stock of the NBA? Will Webster live up to all the hype?

Will Blazer mania return to Portland? Blazer fans can only dream.

So shut your eyes gentlemen, and float back in time to 1976-77. Back to a time when the city shook with applause for the mighty Blazers. When children lined the school gym, simply to get a glimpse of one of the Gentlemen of Basketball. I know, cause I was one of them.

Dream on guys...Cause this October 11, the nightmare begins again!

One Week and Counting

Tomorrow, Tuesday, Mr. J will be gone one week.

Since his departure I have defrosted the freezer, totally over-hauled the laundry room, re-arranged the plastics cupboard, and baked cookies (on top of everything else, of course). So, we and Miss C have kept busy, which is good.

However, I have noticed some very interesting things since Mr. J's departure:

We still have cereal and milk left. They were purchased last week.

I haven't had to refill the hand soap dispenser - which leads me to believe the rest of us must not be very hygienic!

There seem to be more clean towels and less dirty towels - see note above.

I have yet to step on or vacuum up a single air-soft BB.

We haven't eaten pizza once in the past week.

Miss C takes her shower whenever she feels like it.

I'm home more.

All of these are very interesting and it does explain some of the issue we deal with on a regular basis. I must admit there is something kind of nice about all this. I've got less laundry to do and pizza hates me anyway. But I must admit that I have noticed some "not so nice" effects with Mr J's absence.

It is quiet here...too quiet.

I do not have a cheerful child to wake up to in the morning (Miss C, I do love her but, is a MONSTER in the morning).

The morning paper isn't laying on the table waiting for me.

The phone doesn't ring as much.

The 50 lb bags of chicken feed do NOT automatically arrive in the barn loft by themselves.

The silence is starting to get on my nerves.

I haven't heard one lame joke all week.

The local Starbucks called to see if I was okay. Since I'm not driving Mr J around, I haven't been dropping in to get a coffee as often.

Girls do not make as much noise as boys.

Miss C has no one to fight with and thus has waged war on the cat, Dingo.

One more week and I'll be standing at the airport, tissue in hand. When he left I spared him my emotional melodrama. But if that boy thinks for one second that I am going to be in control of my emotions and not embarrass him when he gets off that plane, he's got another thing coming. I fully plan on blubbering like an idiot.

Astro-What?

My daughter and I attend our local homeschool conference over the weekend. This year was great for me due to the fact that I didn't have to work at the conference. For the first time in five years, I was just attending. It was great! Not to mention I received a job offer that may turn into something truly awesome.

I sat in on the lecture by Dr. Brian Ray (nheri.org). While I love statistics, I hate to read them, so his lecture on home school graduates was pretty interesting. Dr. Ray is a sharp guy with a great wit and I am always fascinated to hear about his research in the area of home education.

My daughter met Dr. Jay Wile (apologia.com). He is the man who wrote the Apologia High School Science curriculum that we have used these last few years. Somewhere between general science and physical science the light bulb in my daughters head flashed on.

See, my daughter has developed a love of science. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how or why. I am a history buff. She hates history, unless it has to do with science. I hate math. She struggled a bit in the beginning, but is really moving forward and I (shaking with fear) can see Calculus in her future (eww!). Miss C will share random science facts and ask, "Did you know that?"

Well, no, I didn't.

Dr. Wile lectured on Creation vs Evolution and Teaching Critical Thinking. He took the time to talk to Miss C about her interest in science and to encourage her to pursue her passion. Science as a passion?! Ummm, okay.

Last night she told me she thinks she would like to be an Astro Physicist. Okay. So, what does that mean, anyway? Graciously, she shared that it has to do with studying the planets and stars. Oh. Cool!

So, here I sit. A mom with a high school education (a public one at that), whose daughter might want to work for NASA some day. Ummm, yeah.

And what does a mom like me, say to a daughter liker her?

Go, discover new galaxies and new theories. Show the world new and amazing things. Just don't forget ole' mom when you win the Nobel Prize for Science.

YOU GO GIRL!

I Must be Out of My Flippin' Mind!

Do you know what I did yesterday?

I got up at 5:30am, showered, made honey lunch, cooked breakfast for the family, said goodbye to Miss C as she headed off to work at 8:00 and then...

Packed up Mr. J, drove him to the airport, watched as he checked his luggage, and put him on a plane headed for the Czech Republic...

While driving to the airport I kept thinking:

What the HELL am I doing?

At the check in counter I wondered:

What the HELL am I doing?

As Mr. J began his adventure through airport security my mind shouted:

What the HELL are YOU doing?! Get out of line and back in the car...THIS MINUTE!

But...

I said simply (with NO tears), "Have a good trip. I'll see you in two weeks. I love you," and turned and walked away. He did not see my tears. He does not know that I felt like throwing up all day. I allowed him to be the cool dude in front of his buddies and I didn't embarrass him. Which means, I must be out of my flippin' mind!

I burst into tears the minute my husband stepped in the door, I couldn't seem to focus on anything, I felt like eating everything in site (but I wasn't hungry- I did manage to keep this under control, by the way!) and I kept looking at the clock and seeing how many hours he has left on the plane.

When my eyes began to droop I decided to head to bed. I was going to read for awhile, but then Miss C came in to chat. She was her usual bubbly 13-year-old self, telling me about her day at the zoo with the kids she babysits. Laughing, she recalled how she had changed the 18-month-olds diaper on one of those fold down changing tables in the restroom. Seems the little girl was having tons of fun hopping up and down on the changing table while Miss C tried to get her pants pulled up over her diaper. I smiled, but inside I wasn't thinking about that silly little red-headed girl, bouncing on the springy changing table. Nope. I was thinking about Mr. J and the ocean, land masses, and 9 hours that are separating us.

I slept fitfully all night. Each time I woke up I'd look at the clock and try to figure out where he was on his journey. At 5:15 the alarm went off and I simply rolled over and ignored it. At 6:30 my hubby came in and asked if I was getting up. Growling I sat up and then I remembered! There might be an email from Mr. J!!!!!!

Bouncing down the hall, stomach in a knot, I turned on the computer. Somewhere in my brain the thought echoed that it would be too soon for an email. If their flight arrived in Frankfurt at 8:35 and they had a four hour layover, he would have just arrived in Prague an hour or so ago. But, like a woman possessed, I stared into the blue light of my HP.

Have you ever noticed how SLOW computers truly are?

At long last I was in and I had nine new emails! Hurray! I quickly scanned my inbox. Hmm, mostly junk. Then I thought, it could have gone straight to my junk mail box, so I checked there. It would be logical for an email from Europe to go straight to junk mail...Only it was empty.

So, I began reading through my email. My good friend Mrs. P had sent me pictures of the team leaving yesterday. They were good photos but the last one caught me off guard. Needless to say, I instantly burst into tears. (If I could figure out how to get the pic from email - no it won't save properly or download into a file - I would publish it here).

In the pic sat my sons friend Mr. S in the driver seat and my boy Mr. J in the passenger seat. They were preparing to head to the airport. They are both so young and excited to be traveling to Europe.

I feel like throwing up. I'm an emotional wreck and frankly, I am not certain I will be alive when he returns in two weeks. I must have been out of my flippin' mind to allow my 16-year-old son to travel to Prague. I am an idiot!

And then...

What do you think happened? I got an email from the team! They have arrived safely, with all their luggage, and are exhausted! The flew over Canada and Greenland and never saw the sun set. Amazing. The fact that not one of team got more than a few hours sleep has not dampened their spirits. They checked out the McDonalds in the Frankfurt airport and did a bit of window shopping. Knowing Mr. J, who loves to shop, he purchased stuff too!

So, here I sit, glad that my boy is safe. I still am wondering what on earth I was thinking to let him go. My stomach is still in knots and I have this sneaking hunch that I'm going to be pretty anxious for the next two weeks. Maybe I should cut back on the coffee?

Am I out of my mind? Some would shake their head sadly and say yes. Others might remind me how wonderful this experience is for Mr J and of the importance of the work he'll be doing. He is somewhere I have never been and will be meeting new people and seeing new places. For him this is the trip of a lifetime.

For me, the mommy, it is a growing experience. For the next two weeks, I will be learning about letting go and trusting more in God. After all, Mr J is a really great kid, straight arrow, wise beyond his years. This is his time to stretch and my time to flex.

So, if you see some lunatic at the airport, wringing her hands and desperate for a flight to Prague, simply hand her a Kleenex and a venti, non-fat, sugar-free vanilla, latte, and guide her to a quiet place to rest. She is after all, only a mother, learning to let go.

Thank God it's Friday!

The baby, Mr. W, is sleeping in his swing. Finally. He has started this new thing where he wants to be held, in the nursing position, of course, in order to go to sleep. That's what he and I do every day at 4 pm. If I try to lay him down, he wakes up. So, I sit on the couch with a sweaty baby "pretending" to nurse with his pacifier glued to his mouth.

Don't get me wrong, he is a wonderful baby and those afternoons sitting on the couch are kinda sweet. But honestly, there are other things I could be doing. Like starting dinner or cleaning house or writing.

But none of that happens late in the afternoon. Nope. He lays in my arms, occasionally lifting his head to look at me and smile. I smile back. Hey, he's four months old and cute as a bug. I suppose the housework will wait. After all, there are only two more days left and then he, big brother Mr. C and Mommy go home.

My children, both teenagers, are getting ready to leave for work this morning. Miss C will be gone all day, while Mr. J will work till noon. We have only four more days before Mr. J leaves for the Czech Republic. Yeah, I read the headlines yesterday, thanks for the reminder.

As I sit here, I think about all the other things I should be doing, since Mr. W is sleeping. I should set the water out on the plants. I should make my bed, clean the kitchen, brush my hair. There are a lot of things I should be doing. Should I feel guilty about this? I suppose so. I mean, this is my job, right?

But it isn't like I get paid. It isn't like my boss is going to come down on me for not sweeping the floor. Yet, these things must be done. I still have papers to grade and next years school to lay out. I should exercise. I should defrost the freezer. I should.....

And yet here I sit, warm cup of coffee by my side, window open to let in the morning breeze, baby sleeping. Sigh. It just seems like a good morning to relax. It is Friday, after all.

Tomorrow will bring the hustle and bustle of loading for the dump, getting Mr. J packed for his trip (sigh!), and deal with Mr. W who may or may not decide to sleep in his swing. Tomorrow will be another day to sweep the floor. Tomorrow will have cares of its own.

Which means I better get busy, or I'll have Friday and Saturday's work to do!

Now What?

Several years ago I helped to form a homeschool group that meets just 10 minutes from my house. The format was simple enough, we'd meet once per month, everyone volunteered to head up one months event, and everyone benefited. It was a great little group with a wide age range and we were happy there. The group was not terribly demanding and everyone helped out.

When I stepped into leadership of the group things got a bit tougher. It seems that not everyone is willing to do their fair-share of the work. Many of the moms seemed to only want a babysitter. But I'm a bit of a bull-dog and made everyone pull their weight. It wasn't that I was mean, but I would simply explain that everyone MUST host or help with one monthly meeting in order to belong to the group. It must have worked because no one quit and we had a great year of events.

Two years ago, after the death of my mother-in-law, I stepped down. Thing around here were insane. I was depressed and angry and simply couldn't hold anyone's hand. Amazingly, the other moms stepped down too, leaving a group with no leadership and no direction.

Finally, three moms stepped forward to lead the group. It was very layed back, very few expectations, a lot of things changed. But we remained with the group. I had always had this dream that my children would have a graduation ceremony with these families. After all, we had watched each others children grow up. It only seemed right that our kids would graduate together.

However, one by one the families with older kids left the group. There just wasn't a lot the group had to offer the high schoolers. I tried to solve the problems, but I can only do so much and the other high schooling parents were just as busy as I was.

This year the group is changing yet again. Instead of meeting once a month, they'll meet for science classes and PE classes once per week. The science is way below where my kids are at and frankly, PE is NOT a huge concern for me.

So, we're leaving the group. It will be the first time in years (years!) that we have not been involved with a homeschool group. I am not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand I won't have to come up with some stupid craft project for thirty children to do. I won't have to stress out on Friday's to make sure I get to the meeting on time. I won't have to deal with one woman, who, frankly, needs a punch in the mouth (sorry, but if you knew her, you'd agree!).

I'll miss some of other moms and I know my daughter is really going to miss her circle of friends. We'll miss having some fun field trips and some pretty cool classes. Mostly, I will miss the graduation ceremony I have had planned in my head all these years.

Growing Up

As I sit here and watch little Mr. W in his swing, I am reminded of another boy I use to watch swing. He was the most beautiful baby; always smiling and happy. He was rarely fussy and I so enjoyed just watching him. Sigh.

Mr. J is sixteen and a half now. He has been taller than I am for several years and is still a very handsome guy. I am proud of his character, his convictions, and the fact that he doesn't take himself too seriously. He is a mixture of goofy kid and seriously, mature adult.

As we have inched our way towards his adulthood, it has been a bag of mixed emotions for me. I am glad that he is becoming a fine young man, but I am saddened knowing that soon (really soon) he'll be stretching his wings and really flying solo for the first time. No longer needing the "mommy".

Just a few weeks ago I drove him down to the camp he works at off and on. We stopped at Walmart and I have to say that I really find it funny that he likes to shop as much as I do (OH! his poor wife!). Mr. J was excited to find a "sweet soccer jersey" for Italy (purchased before they won the World Cup). After stopping for fuel (his, not the cars) we were on the road again.

I like the drive to this camp, because it is over an hour away from home and we usually have some pretty good discussions. We talk about girls and God, books and music, friends and the future. He's a neat kid, this little boy of mine.

All too soon the camp appeared before us and I opened the trunk to help him unpack a weeks worth of clothes, water, and munchies (sent by mom, just in case). As he walked into the main building, weighed down with his stuff, I called out,

"By J_______ I'll see you next Saturday," and started to get back in the car. I am not completely clueless and wanted to spare him the "mommy moment" in front of his fellow workers and campers.

"WAIT!" He yelled from the doorway.

Jogging up to me he said,

"You can't leave without a hug!"

Sigh...

As I started the car, he yelled across the driveway,

"I love you mom!"

Does anyone truly wonder WHY I love this boy...I mean young man?

So the drive home was silent except for those four words that circulated round my mind. As my car sped homeward I realized that I am moving in a new direction in our ever evolving relationship. He is becoming the man I had hopped he would be and I am rushing towards being middle aged (please do NOT tell me I am middle aged right now).

A few years ago I had lamented having no role model for what a middle aged woman looked like. I am not a career woman and could careless about returning to school (eewww!). I'm still at a point in life where I don't have to dye my hair (oh, it's coming, no worries there!). It will be a few years before the sweet name Grandma appears before my name, so where do I go now? And where are the role models for me to copy?

And then it struck me, I don't need to copy someone else to be me! I can be anything! The same phrase I tell me daughter, when discussing her dreams for the future, applies to me too. I can be a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. I can travel, explore, and live. My children leaving home does not mean the end of me, but the beginning of a new me, with wonderful possibilities.

This time around will be different. I am happily married, so I won't be exerting energy looking for a man (you know, once you have one to clean up after, you won't be needing another). I have enough experience that I won't work for minimum wage and I won't have to lie because I'd rather go play at the beach, than work. I am mature enough to volunteer at a woman's shelter and actually have wisdom to share (okay, I'm not that wise, but at least I know more than I did at twenty!). Life post kiddies may indeed be busier than I have been for the last 17 years and perhaps sweeter in a new way.

Which brings me back to my nest at present. My daughter is outside, Mr. W is still sleeping in his swing, and Mr. J just walked past me and gave me one of his goofy, cross-eyed, grins on his way out the door. I stuck my tongue out at him and called him booger-face. It looks like we both have a ways to go, before we grow up.

I wonder which of us will get there first?!

Out-Sourcing

I'll bet it has happened to you...Your computer is on the fritz, so you phone tech support. "Bob" on the other end is "most happy to help you". The only problem is his accent is so bad you can barely understand him. You try and try to get the information you need, but "Bob" just isn't very helpful. Maybe you'll call back later, hoping to find an American on the other end of the phone.

Good luck!

More and more American companies are out-sourcing their customer service projects to India and other foreign lands. In fact the most recent company to bail is Office Depot. I know, because I was (up until about 5 min ago) an independent contractor for them.

The amazing thing is, Office Depot was very concerned about customer satisfaction. As a customer service rep you did everything you could to keep the customer happy. Yet I heard from a number of customers who were angry because of they got some "idiot" who "didn't speak English" and couldn't help them.

So, for all you who shop retail or business direct with Office Depot, DON'T! Shop at Staples or Office Max. Better yet, find some mom and pop store (if they are still in business) and shop there. Call Office Depot and tell them how angry you are that they out-sourced good American jobs, leaving many American's without jobs.

In case you are wondering, there are over 200 independent contractors for Office Depot who will be unemployed as of August 25.

Office Depot signs all their calls with the phrase, "Thanks for letting Office Depot take care of your business today."

So thanks Office Depot, for giving me and America THE Business!