Closure. One of the great things about teaching. No matter how difficult the year, no matter how golden, the end always comes. I’ve just squeezed the last child good-bye, and another 180 days is in the books. It’s a wonderful feeling. It’s been a good year. A sweet group of kids. I’ve had more than the usual number of ones that I’d love to take home with me. I can just see myself asking, “So is he housebroken? Does he come with papers? How much does he eat?” I asked Jeff last week, if we had a boy, where would we put him? He said, “I can’t even wrap my mind around that right now.” (He’s in the middle of a very big project…I don’t always consider that when asking big questions like room arrangements.) I figure, Emma would have to move in with Sophie which would begin WW III in there, and then in Emma’s room it would be down with the princesses and up with the race cars, skateboards, construction equipment, or whatever the boy would be into. I cringe at the thought of exchanging a darling flowered dress for a backhoe as a wall decoration, but I wouldn’t be the first mom to do it. As I watched American Idol last week and saw David Cook’s mom watching her son win, I felt very emotional, and thought how neat it would be to have a son. I’ve heard people say that there’s something special between a mother and a son, and I think I’ve been able to see that recently, somehow…and I find myself wondering if God’s getting ready to hit me over the head with something like He did when we adopted Emma from China. (I reminded Jeff, “God always hits me over the head first.) Switching our dossier to a boy with minor, correctable special needs? It would fast track things as well…we’ve already been waiting almost 2 years this time around. I’m beginning to see this daughter/son difference more clearly defined. For a mother to see her grown daughter is to see a grown version of herself in many ways (although I hope to see a version with a lower body mass index and a higher earning potential than me). But a son? A son is a man. Just some of the emotions I was feeling as David Cook’s mom looked on while her son won last week (of course, it could just have been the beginning of my grieving process with American Idol going into hiatus until January…who knows). Anyway, for now, here’s the latest picture of my only “son” at the moment. Yes, he’s sort of, almost housebroken, comes with papers, and eats about 2 cups of Purina Pro Plan morning and evening (plus a regimen of supplements he finds that you don’t want me to tell you about…so much for closure…)

Published in: on May 28, 2008 at 5:29 am  Comments (1)  

Hook ’em young, I say…

So we’re watching, what else–American Idol–tonight, and Maroon 5 comes on. My 4 year-old Emma is immediately drawn to Adam Levine. “Mom, who IS that guy?” I sort of comment offhand that he’s a singer for a group, noticing that puppy Shadow needs to go out and do his business. I sigh and remark, “He’s gotta go poop. He’s pacing back and forth.” Emma says, incredulously, “That guy, on American Idol?” Now just put that scene together for a minute. Have you seen this guy perform? He does have quite the groove going on… (although Sophie says this still doesn’t explain Sanjaya.) Then I come back in with Shadow, and Emma’s about a foot away from the TV, doing her own groove thang. She grins sheepishly when she sees me and says, “Mom, I love that guy!” I ask, “What do you love about him?” “Um, I just like when he sings to me.”

Published in: on May 7, 2008 at 8:25 pm  Comments (2)