Back To Blogging... Sort Of
We got our computer back, up and running, just in time to get ready to leave for Texas for the week. I miss blogging. I miss it because it's a way for me to journal and to write little updates on the kids, vent about what's happening in the world that I disagree with, and post goals and dreams. Plus I love reading your comments--like little notes in my mailbox each day from friends far and near.
We are T-minus 2.5 days until we leave for Texas. It's hard to believe that the original plans were a trip to London for me and David. That feels like a lifetime ago. Lily is doing okay, and I sincerely thank you for all your thoughts and prayers. We're actually thankful for a week off all together as a family. I can't wait to see the beach and explore and eat junk food and watch David relax from his insanely stressful job. Plus no homework. No helping with 7th grade math, which manages to stump me most nights. It doesn't matter where we're going, as long as there's no homework.
I like to put off our packing until the last minute, because no matter how prepared I am, it all really boils down to those last few hours. Also, we have to bring our own bedding and towels, so there's no reason to get that ready now. But that also means I will be running around like a headless chicken all day on Friday. Feel free to come over and watch me. It should be quite entertaining.
I'll blog as much as I can between now and then. I hope you're all doing well.
3/21/12
3/19/12
3/11/12
zi-NAH-boo
Zinabu. Zinabu, Zinabu, Zinabu.
We are approaching his five year anniversary of joining our family. Does that seem possible? It does not, to me. His arrival (and subsequent pain and adaptation to America and our family) still feels so palpable. So just yesterday. I marvel at a five year anniversary.
Zinabu is the light of my life. The most incredible joy-filled ball of energy and brains. He is still a little tone deaf, but he loves to sing funny songs as he follows me around. Yesterday it was, "We're doing the laundry one piece at a time..." When he wants to get his way, he stares at me with his enormous brown eyes and says, "You can't resist the puppy dog stare." And he still asks me eight million questions a day, such as, "Where does Daylight Saving's Time really start and what time is it really here if it's already midnight in New York?"
His brain is so mathematical. He is a living, breathing calculator. We are going to have our hands full keeping him happy at school, and he is going to be "one of those" kids. One of those kids in the double-double-triple-super advanced math classes in eight grade, riding the bus to the high school to take AP Calculus with a bunch of 17-year-olds. I can hardly wait to see what he'll be when he grows up. I won't be able to understand it because it will have something to do with quantum physics, but I am very excited.
And he is still very much a little boy. Needing my snuggles. Needing his PB&J without crusts. Needing kisses after reading books together. Needing to sit in my lap when he wants to feel close to me. Needing to show me his cuts and scrapes so that I am aware of his owie status.
I pray that his mom knew all this about him before she died. I don't know how she would have known, but I hope that she could look into his eyes and see all that potential and life and joy bubbling under the surface. He tells me often that he's so happy I am his mom now, and after I weep silently into his shoulder... I agree.
Zinabu. Zinabu, Zinabu, Zinabu.
We are approaching his five year anniversary of joining our family. Does that seem possible? It does not, to me. His arrival (and subsequent pain and adaptation to America and our family) still feels so palpable. So just yesterday. I marvel at a five year anniversary.
Zinabu is the light of my life. The most incredible joy-filled ball of energy and brains. He is still a little tone deaf, but he loves to sing funny songs as he follows me around. Yesterday it was, "We're doing the laundry one piece at a time..." When he wants to get his way, he stares at me with his enormous brown eyes and says, "You can't resist the puppy dog stare." And he still asks me eight million questions a day, such as, "Where does Daylight Saving's Time really start and what time is it really here if it's already midnight in New York?"
His brain is so mathematical. He is a living, breathing calculator. We are going to have our hands full keeping him happy at school, and he is going to be "one of those" kids. One of those kids in the double-double-triple-super advanced math classes in eight grade, riding the bus to the high school to take AP Calculus with a bunch of 17-year-olds. I can hardly wait to see what he'll be when he grows up. I won't be able to understand it because it will have something to do with quantum physics, but I am very excited.
And he is still very much a little boy. Needing my snuggles. Needing his PB&J without crusts. Needing kisses after reading books together. Needing to sit in my lap when he wants to feel close to me. Needing to show me his cuts and scrapes so that I am aware of his owie status.
I pray that his mom knew all this about him before she died. I don't know how she would have known, but I hope that she could look into his eyes and see all that potential and life and joy bubbling under the surface. He tells me often that he's so happy I am his mom now, and after I weep silently into his shoulder... I agree.
3/6/12
M.I.A.
Where have I been? Nowhere exotic, that's for sure. Rather, the kids dropped our computer and it is currently at a computer repair store getting a new hard drive.
Yay! Kids!
I'm using David's work computer just to stay in touch with the outside world. P.S. I miss you, outside world.
I'll be back when the computer is back.
Where have I been? Nowhere exotic, that's for sure. Rather, the kids dropped our computer and it is currently at a computer repair store getting a new hard drive.
Yay! Kids!
I'm using David's work computer just to stay in touch with the outside world. P.S. I miss you, outside world.
I'll be back when the computer is back.
3/1/12
Our Family Bookshelf
Here's what we're reading around here.
Here's what we're reading around here.
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| Cathy: Heartbreaking and riveting (although simplistic). Unbelievable. |
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| David: The director of the British Museum discusses the incredibly important objects the museum owns and why they changed history. |
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| Carver: Science fiction buff that he is, this book is part of a series he is thoroughly enjoying. |
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| Lily: Nothing. (sigh) |
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| Zinabu: Reluctantly reading a chapter book series after finishing the Spiderwick Chronicles and mourning that fact that I won't let him read the next Harry Potter book until next year. |
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