Dog days

Our Moe is as sensitive as they make 'em. He's rough and tumble, just as he ought to be. He loves dogs. So when we chose novels from this year's second-grade reading list, Stone Fox -- a story about a boy who competes with his beloved dog Searchlight in a sled race -- seemed like a perfect choice.

He settled down Wednesday after lunch to read it. He kept popping in on my lessons with Larry and Curly Sue to tell me all the exciting things happening in the race. Then he walked in with his best I'm-a-big-boy-trying-not-to-cry expression and said in a trembling little voice, "You do NOT need to read the end of this book. Searchlight dies."

Then he burst into tears.

Then I burst into tears.

Then he had an asthma episode. (And he's not our asthmatic child!)

I read the end of the book and it was extremely sad. Too sad for a second-grade dog-lover, too heavy a suitcase for my little guy to carry. Another in-my-face reminder that I just can't take someone else's word for what's appropriate for my children to read.

No more dog books for awhile, unless it's Walter the Farting Dog -- that one has a sequel, so I know Walter must make it safely past the end.

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In other news, we are going to the inauguration in January. Larry's teacher in Georgia Virtual Academy has put together a trip for students that will allow all five of us to go, and we are pretty excited. We know regardless of who wins the election, it will be historic and we hope to have a great experience.

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In other other news, we took a field trip to the remains of a Georgia gold mine yesterday. It was a really neat tour!

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In even other-er news, yesterday's checkup at the allergist did not go well for Moe. Larry came through with flying colors and remains off all asthma medications except one shot each month (praise God!), but Moe's came up a little short on his breathing function test. Dr. H. wouldn't have worried, he said, except that the abovementioned Stone Fox-related breathing difficulties concerned him.

Moe got some Xopenex and another test, after which he got three days' Orapred, instructions for nebulizer treatments and a follow-up appointment.

I have been dreading the day we start down that road, but now that it's here, I guess I'm a little relieved. At least he's already on an immunotherapy regimen.

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If you feel so inclined, prayers for Geddy and the rest of the team of volunteers from his company would be appreciated. They are headed to Texas to help with hurricane relief efforts in one of the small coastal towns.

Pulled back from the edge

I was ready to withdraw from Georgia Virtual Academy. I already had researched alternatives, bookmarked pages, made up courses of study and yakked at my poor husband for hours about unfulfilled promises and poor communication and the fact that, nearly seven weeks into the school year, my daughter still didn't have her history materials -- and the k12 representative said it was because "GVA had canceled the order." (GVA hadn't.)

Flamin' mad, I made up my mind to quit.

But, see, our family had made a commitment in March. It was a commitment to enroll in GVA and meet all its requirements for one school year, to see where it takes us. That commitment has to mean something, even if it's inconvenience, aggravation, headache and stress.

So Geddy and I decided to stick around. I prayed for peace and I was given it, and I dug in my heels and gritted my teeth and opened a book for the rest of the ride home from the beach.

I started laughing when we pulled into the driveway and a package from k12 was waiting on the porch.

'Cause God honors commitment, y'all.

Angels and tigers and...sorry, I got nothing

We're at the beach. We are swimming, eating like pigs, amusing ourselves with various activities and doing schoolwork.

Yesterday was a four-hour living history lesson at Sherman Field, home of the Navy's Blue Angels. The Pensacola base also hosts a great museum, the National Naval Aviation Museum. We got to see the Blue Angels practice and tour the museum, plus take a bus ride through the planes permanently parked there.

Today, it was biology. We visited the Gulf Coast Zoo and saw the Marcan Tigers, breathtakingly beautiful animals trained from birth in captivity. There also were some darn cute babies, 11 weeks old, and we got to touch their precious little heads.

Tomorrow is Curly Sue's ninth birthday, so it's her choice. I imagine we'll be building monster sand castles and eating a burger at LuLu's. Nannie and Paw-Paw will join us bearing birthday cake tomorrow evening. She doesn't know it yet, but in addition to the two Barbie movies she chose, she'll be receiving a Ruthie American Girl doll. I can't wait to see her face!

Trashy vacation television and junky vacation food are loudly calling, so I must go.

More on my prickly friend and hero

For months now I've said I'm going to start posting "My Hero Monday." Not terrifically original, maybe, but I run into so many everyday folks who are accomplishing amazing things that I just want to start keeping track.

Long ago in journalism school, a professor told me that everyone has a story worth reading if it's written right. Some of 'em just jump out at you.

My prickly friend, M, told me it would be okay to tell more about her. It's not Monday but here goes.

M is my hero because she has done the right thing even though it has turned her life upside down and inside out. She took the long way around, including teenage motherhood and divorce/remarriage, to stability and then got the call that would change her life yet again.

It was the police, telling them M's brother-in-law and his girlfriend had gotten into a domestic dispute and that the couple's five children needed a place to stay for a week or so. M and family agreed to take them in.

But what they thought would be a week turned into a lifetime. M and her husband have permanent custody of the five siblings in addition to her three.

You know what else makes her my hero? I've never heard her complain. In fact, she talks about her tricksy entry into the world of youth pastoring as a way for God to prepare her for unexpected massive motherhood. She never liked anyone's children but her own until she had to step into a youth leadership role in a former church, just before she got custody of the "new" kids.

As with most children in sub-ideal homes, M's new kids had lots of problems. And then there were the nightmares of paperwork, background checks, finances, insurance, housing and scheduling, in addition to staying under the bio father's radar to protect the children. M and her husband have had the children for four years or so now, and when I met them a year or so ago, it never occurred to me that they were anything but a big ol' traditional, nuclear family.

And building a seamless love from a bunch of broken and damaged parts? That's what makes M my hero.

Baby Jake is here!

My friend Kelly called this morning with the blessed news of her third child's arrival. Baby Jake joins his big sisters, ages 4 and newly 9, and we were so happy to hear of his healthy and quick birth this morning!

"Sons are a heritage of the Lord, children a reward from him." -- Psalm 127:3

This is me, bragging

Moe had a week or two of rocky behavior, so imagine how proud we were when he told us he earned 25 extra points last night in church for sitting quietly while all the other third-grade boys were acting up!

He was also the only boy in his group who had learned his memory verse and completed his challenge from Sunday, and Curly Sue was one of only two in her group.

It was a good Mama night.

Come on down!

Geddy and I got to play The Price is Right -- sorta -- over the weekend.

In our house, we have two drivers and three cars. We replaced our aging minivan two years ago with a Volvo V-50 wagon (used, great price). Last fall, the 1966 VW Beetle show car Geddy and Larry spent nine months restoring joined our family, which also includes a 10-year-old Nissan Maxima.

The Volvo is a great car but as the children grow, they are starting to get a bit cramped in the back seat. Geddy and I had just hatched a plan to start looking for a good deal on a minivan or SUV when my parents announced they were going to buy a new van, so we talked them into selling us their 2003 Kia Sedona when they bought their new Nissan Quest.

Which made four cars for two drivers, which was at least one too many.

The Maxima has been a great car, but it needed some work. In addition to a deep cleaning/detailing, the brakes need to be replaced and it needs a tuneup. Half of our selling price would have been eaten up in repairs. What to do?

Geddy said, "Maybe we should give it away" about the same time I said, "I think we should give it away."

It wasn't at all difficult to choose a family because one already had been laid on my heart. I meet a friend from church for dinner once a month or so. She's a lot of fun, a little prickly like me, and I can be completely real with her. She started her family very young and thought she was done with three children, but the Lord had other plans and sent her five siblings to adopt.

Her eldest recently got his license, and months ago she mentioned how they would like to get a small car for the older children to drive because they only have a large van and her husband's work truck. After my conversation with G, I approached her at church, hoping she wouldn't be offended.

She wasn't.

When my dad brought over the Kia Saturday, we arranged to drop it off Sunday after church. When Geddy handed the eldest son the car keys and the three teenagers realized what was happening, they were very excited. I was glad we got to see their reaction.

We may never be in a position to give away a car again, but I will admit I would love to have a dozen more superfluous cars. I understand why Bob Barker stayed on The Price is Right for so long -- giving stuff away is sort of addictive.

If Mrs. Geter could only see me now

I've always been bad at math and I never loved school. I believe I actually said, the day that I graduated from college, that if I ever had to go back to school I'd probably jump off the nearest bridge.

Oh, the irony, then, that my children are learning at home under my facilitation!

It's not that I don't enjoy learning. I do. Pre-algebra has never been on my list, though. So imagine my surprise when I embarked on the pre-algebra road with Larry this year and discovered I like it.

I really, really like it!

Mrs. Geter, who taught me geometry and algebra in high school, always believed I could do math. She thought if someone had slowed me down and really taught it to me, that I wouldn't have had any trouble. Unfortunately, by the high school level it's too late for that. She did, however, join me in my happy dance when I passed the *one* math course required for my college degree.

If sports statistics had been a high school course, I'd never have passed it. And yet I managed to keep pristine records for our state-runner-up high school baseball team. College math? Forget about it! And yet, I was right there at the press box/table, compiling, manipulating and arranging statistics for the baseball, football and basketball teams. Later, math was a huge part of my sportswriting career as well.

So why did I always think I was bad at it? Hmmm...

From early on, math didn't come easy to me, so I didn't want to do it. I was a precocious reader and writer so everyone thought I was "smart." For Pete's sake, I finished my Studybooks a year and a half early! And "smart" kids, in our tiny school, especially those with great parents who are ultra-involved in the PTA and Booster Club, got a great deal of grace.

Translated: I got away with being lazy.

I started really struggling when I was in third grade. Mrs. Jackson's class. You did NOT fool around in Mrs. Jackson's class, and I was afraid to tell her I didn't understand. She'd fix The Look on me and say, "Becky R., I know as smart as you are, you can do this work without any help from me!"

So I muddled through. I made my first C in ninth grade, Algebra I. I was horrified. Still, I was afraid to admit I didn't know what I was doing so I didn't ask for help. In 10th grade, I got Mrs. Geter for geometry.

For the first time, I understood and did well. Not A's well, but solid B's well. My lifelong feud with math (as Larry would say) was over. And then I hit Algebra II. Back to third grade and all the help I didn't ask for, all those years ago.

So imagine my shock when I determined to learn what I didn't learn back then alongside my child, and it became interesting. And fun. And...I understand it!

For all my ridicule-deflecting joking about my lack of math ability, I realize how extremely fortunate I am to be able to go back and pick up the knowledge I thought was lost to me forever. Second chances are rare, so I guess I won't be jumping off the nearest bridge after all.

Thanks for believing in me 20-odd years ago, Mrs. Geter. I'm gonna learn this junk yet.