Happy Airplane Day

On the Wednesday before Memorial Day 2001 we got a call from the agency we were working with to adopt a baby from Korea. We had done all the paperwork, background checks, inspections and notarizing and were expecting our boy to travel in July or August. They called to tell us he had passed his physical and was cleared to travel earlier then expected. This was great news! When might he arrive? Saturday. Umm, like in 3 days? We were not quite prepared, emotionally or otherwise. But we got the room painted, the crib assembled, house cleaned and got a friend to drive us to and from Dulles airport for the delivery. On Saturday morning, 7 years ago today we got our ride to the airport where 20 or so friends and family met us, along with another expectant family, someone from the adoption agency, all the other people who had reason to meet the Korean Air flight from Seoul and the other 10,000 people who are flowing in and out of Dulles at any moment. We waited, dazed, tired, excited for the arrival to be called and then the first people to come through the doors. When he left Korea the day before he was 4 months old to the day. The family that brought him over were some of the last people to come through immigration and customs that morning. But there, amid the “white zone is for loading and unloading…” and “unattended baggage will be confiscated and subject to…” announcements and all the rest of the airport hubbub we became parents. And this guy became our son. Happy airplane day 2008.

(Note cashmere romper. That is about as sensible a baby gift as a Porsche or a crackpipe. He wore it twice, for a total of 180 minutes. Thanks Heather!)

Yell and Spell

Hollered between the living room and the kitchen:

"What does a-u-r-r-y mean?"
"Aurry?"
"No! H-u-r-r-y"
"Oh, hurry, like what we always say to you when we're trying to go somewhere."
"What does L-a-u-r-a mean?"
"Laura, like Nesha's mommy."
"What does c-a-u-g-h-t mean?"
"Caught."
"No! C-a-u-G-h-t!"
"Right, caught, like 'I caught your cold'."
"Well that doesn't make much sense."
Welcome to the English language, sweetheart.

Cheap, Lazy & Neurotic - Part 2

I hadn't planned on going to the Live Wax Museum because this was Good Friday and for some reason I had the day off but the kids had school, so I was supposed to, you know, tile the bathroom floor that day. But I was feeling pretty darn great because I'd a)dismantled one of the most important rooms in our house and b)returned from an errand on time so I figured I could give myself an hour off to see what this Live Wax Museum was all about. Although the last time I was in a wax museum was on our family trip to California when I was 6 and it gave me the serious heeby jeebies I figured a bunch of 1st graders wouldn't be too scary.

Turns out, every kid in Older Boy's class was a different historical figure like Ben Franklin or Sacagewea or the Statue of Liberty (historical figurine?) and they had all painted backdrops that had a big white button glued to them. Here is OB, guess if you can tell who he is portraying:

OK I gave you a little hint. His backdrop is war, I think. Unfortunately his button was 'broken' so when a museum visitor pressed it George just stood there. After a few more concerted pressings George would cheerfully volunteer to kick the wall as the button was out of order and then he would swing into action:

which went something like this:

[Note: you may need to turn the internet to 11 to hear this but there is something loud at the very end - beware!] The kids all did their spiels in the lunchroom with all the other 1st grade classes and the kindergartners roaming around pressing all the buttons so there was no way to hear what any of the wax museum figures were actually saying.

This seemed like a worthwhile outing and soon we were on our way home and I was planning the next step of the project. I figured I had another hour or so to work since M always took the boys with her when she took the Girl to her dance class. I was rather surprised when, after everyone had snacked up, she and the Girl got in the car and left - by themselves. Seems the boys only went with M because, on all the other Fridays, I was at work and since Daddy was clearly NOT at work today and in fact was messing around doing really cool things ["no you may NOT use the toilet that is sitting in the bathtub. Get out! GET OUT!"] there was no way they were going to boring old dance class.

No problem, I think, we'll all go to the hardware store to get the nails I forgot on my earlier trip to the lumber yard. The boys weren't going for that, either, and now I was seeing my confidence head on down to the poolhall with my wallet in its pocket. Did I mention that its Good Friday and M, being a pastor, has to go to work at 6:00 tonight? Do you hear that bang and the tinkling of broken glass? That was my window of opportunity slamming shut.

Why We Live Here - Second Reason

When I come back from a work errand and forget to bring my bike into my office and it sits outside, in plain view, leaning against the front of our building on one of the busiest streets in town for hours and does not get stolen. It helps to have a really really ugly bike.