Scalzi = Awesome.
There was a chubby little boy I knew in grade school, and he was nice to me. This is memorable because little boys were usually not nice to little girls, especially nerdy little girls with coke-bottle glasses and buck teeth – but he was, and because of that so were his friends. The end of 6th grade came, and we went to different schools for Junior High, and I thought I’d never see the chubby little boy again.
There was a tall solid teenaged boy I knew in high school. I could still see the chubby little boy behind his eyes, and he was still nice to me. I never told him, but I was very grateful for him and the other nice guys. Eventually high school ended, and we all went our separate ways, and I thought maybe I’d see the nice guys at our reunions… only I never went.
There’s a tall, too-thin balding man being discharged from the hospital into home hospice care right now. He’s physically weak, but I think he’s the strongest person I know. He has a wife and children who adore him, and friends who are pulling for him. I still haven’t seen him since high school, but we reconnected through Facebook and I can still see that chubby little boy behind his eyes in the pictures his wife has posted. This good man has been living with Pancreatic Cancer for far longer than statistics claim is possible. He’s fought tooth and toenail to beat it, to stay as long as he can with his wife and children. He’s exhausted, though – and last night his wife signed the paperwork to put him on comfort care. That had to have been the hardest – and most loving – thing she’s ever done, and my heart aches for her.
Please pray for this good man, that he has pain-free days and an easy passing when he decides it’s time to let go. And pray for his family, that they can continue to find strength in their faith and love for each other.
Update 7/26/2012: Eric died early this morning – at home with his family, where he wanted to be. Please continue to pray for his family.
It’s summer, so one of my nieces came to visit. This time it was the 13 year old, who I will call The Girl. We had a wonderful time, and I really miss her, but I am REALLY enjoying my quiet time, too.
Here are some things The Girl taught me that I should remember while planning the adoption:
Teenagers EAT. A LOT. She doesn’t eat a lot in one sitting but oh dear Gods and Goddesses, when she grazes she cuts a wider swath than a whole herd of goats. When figuring our monthly post-adoption budget, I’m clearly going to have to double (possibly triple) the grocery budget.
Going out: It takes 20 minutes for me to get ready. This includes showering, getting dressed, and finding my keys. It takes a teen girl a minimum of 2 hours. Half hour to 45 minutes for a shower. Half hour to dry and style hair. Half hour for makeup. Half hour to 1 hour to pull every piece of clothing she owns out of the dresser or closet or suitcase, hold it up in front of a mirror, and decide it just won’t do before putting on exactly what she wore the day before. This is merely for going to the grocery store. If we’re going to the mall or to dinner and a movie – double it.
Cleaning: to me, cleaning the kitchen means loading the dishwasher, putting all the clutter back where it belongs, wiping down the counters, sweeping and mopping. To a teenager, cleaning the kitchen means loading half the dishwasher, going to watch some tv. Loading the rest of the dishwasher, watch some tv. Wipe down those parts of the counter that don’t have things on them, txt a friend. Swiffer the floor without sweeping first, declare it done, express pride in how well it was done, and watch more tv. I will have to remember to break down an assigned chore into the smallest bits possible, and accept that it will STILL not be done to my standards – but that it will be done, and I will be grateful for it. As The Girl’s Mom told me: let go of what you can’t control. Be happy to check something off the list, instead of pissy about the way it was done.
Finally: I’m never going to FEEL ready to adopt – but when it happens, we’re all going to be okay. I’m not going to break him or her, and I’m going to be able to deal with whatever comes up. Maybe not WELL, but I’ll manage.