Aliens on my Wall

As the afternoon sun hit my family room windows today, I was sitting and holding and rocking Little D and the coolest shadows of tree limbs surrounded me. For fifteen minutes, I watched the branches dance and sway across my walls. And I spent those fifteen minutes convincing myself that there were aliens outside in the trees. I swear I could see an alien riding a bike and then stopping to catch her breath and then pedaling with all her might again. I don't know how I know it was an alien woman, but I just do. I was convinced to the point I went and got my camera and headed outside to take a picture for my daily photo blog with my sister, Mel DropZoneS2.blogspot.com. I got outside and there was no alien to take a picture of. I went back inside and the alien was still on my wall riding her bike. Once again, don't ask how I know it was a her, I just do.

Little D started chatting incessantly about pirate ships and snacks and how he loves to read books and how his mommy makes him happy and how the black on the socks is on the bottom of his foot and whatever else came to his little mind.

Minutes earlier he was in an all out screaming rage, staring me down with dark, intense eyes that could give a terrorist a run for his money. The rage started because I reminded him if he was asking me a question, he needed to look in my eyes. I know it is a scary prospect but those are the rules in our family. I can see the talk bubble above his head now, "You want me to look you in the eyes, then I'll give you something to look at!"

I looked at Mr Chatterbox and thought how much he has seen and experienced in his short life, how he knows pain and has given up things I can't even begin to imagine the loss of, how he showed up in the Atlanta airport with a small suitcase full of belongings and that was all he could claim as his own. If I, who am the proud recipient of a college degree and a can say I have a relatively sane brain and am full adult (notice I did not use the Grown-up word), am able to convince myself that there is an alien riding her bike behind my house, it's not a far stretch that this little guy is able to convince himself the world is out to get him and that he cannot trust anyone farther than he can throw them.

My job is to convince him he's wrong. Unfortunately, I'm sure it will take more than a look-see at the trees in the backyard.

Things I Believe In

I believe in loving and being loved, in afternoons with a

good book, and in embracing sunshine.

I believe in playing four square, tag, and hopscotch, that chinese jump rope should be an Olympic Sport, and in grade school recess weddings.


I believe in cloud gazing and stargazing, in power naps, and in Sonic Happy Hour.

I believe in the therapeutic power of a big bowl of popcorn and a chick flick, in extra butter, and in chocolate as an essential food group.


I believe in laughter-gut busting, pee your pants, stomach muscles sore in the morning kind of laughter, in the power of girlfriends, and in sisters who always make the best girlfriends (after the age of 20, when you're old enough to get over yourself).

I believe in Mom and Dad, in clean sheets(and underwear!), and that clean and dry kitchen tables and pencils are essential elements of math homework.

I believe in water fights and food fights, snowball fights and light saber fights, and in fights where you find yourself throwing plates when you've had all you can take.

I believe in asking questions, in going against the grain, in rocking the boat and in painting on smiles.

I believe that there is power in family and in sharing and in believing.

Lost

The day before the big move to New Zealand while trying to tie up last loose ends and making everything just perfect for the girls to move across the world, while trying to locate an old favorite picture for Micaela to put in a book to take to with her, the unthinkable and unexplainable happened, my iPhoto library was completely wiped out with the stroke of a key. I'm still not sure exactly what button I pushed or didn't push or how exactly it came about, but as the realization sank in, I was rendered speechless, a rare event indeed. I felt like I would certainly throw up, and then came the tears. I took some deep breaths and remembered I had been backing up my computer only for the last several months but surely that would take of things.

A search of my backup files revealed one of my more glaring faults, rarely taking advantage of the safety nets readily available at my fingertips. The last backup I had done was dated November 1, 2009. I could restore my photo library that was in place that date. That meant that the last 3 months of pictures were gone. Disappeared into thin air.

Pictures of birthday parties x 3. Pictures of Thanksgiving and visits from family and friends. Pictures of Christmas: hanging the stockings, the wrapping paper war, Auntie Mel's fabulous festive red dress, surprises from Santa, and many other memories. Pictures of Micaela's final basketball season defending the Lady Indians of Lumpkin County. Pictures of recent travels to New York. Pictures of long time friends as we said goodbye.

An emergency trip to the genius bar left me seriously in doubt of the qualifications for an Apple genius and with $100.o0 of data rescue software for no charge after the "genius" had erased any chance that the pictures would be easily recovered if recovered at all. Thank you to level headed parents that continue to watch out for me and speak up when I am unable to do so.

It's hard to describe the feeling of loss. How much I had relied on those digital images as a gatekeeper for the memories. How simple the day would have gone if I had only used what was readily available for preserving something so precious. Over the next weeks I spent countless hours with my laptop and the rescue program. I was amazed that I could find images from years back completely intact, and completely free from damage, but images taken of Big Much and her fabulous teacher we left behind in Georgia, taken only one week before was not recoverable. In the end, only a small percentage of the images were recovered. Everyone offered their advice about all the things I should have done. Add it to the reel already playing in my head.

Flash forward three weeks and while on a walk with the girls after school, Middle Miss dropped her brand new bright pink iPod Nano somewhere along the trail. We doubled back several times but could not find it anywhere. Amid sobs from a heartbroken girl, her sisters all offered great words of advice about how she should have left it in the car (translation: You're an idiot). There was nothing we could say that could compare with the voices already confirming that fact playing loudly in her head already. Quite miraculously, Middle Miss who is the shyest girl on the planet, on her own approached an older couple who was walking the same trail. They had found the iPod and she recovered what she had lost. I'm sure it will take much more than that to quiet the voices in her head.

For me, the lessons of the experiences were not about images or iPods. Those can be recovered or replaced or are soon forgotton, but the trust I lost in myself is not so easy to recover. Long after the items are a thing of the past, the proof remians that I am disorganized and just that stupid. And now, each night as I sleep, my computer is backing up. And with each backup the volume on the reel of voices is turned down just a decibel or two. But that is enough for now.

This week Iz celebrated her 11th birthday as week booked our first week here in New Zealand. She had partied it up at home with a slumber party with her friends and she had received all her presents because she would need them for the long day of travel (ipod Nano and North Face jacket). I still wanted to the day to be special, to stand out for her and to set the tone for our birthday celebrations while here. Her dinner request was pork tacos and she wanted to go to the Splash Palace after school. I spent the day driving among the three markets(grocery stores) in search of ingredients that would make the dinner and cake taste just like home. I came home missing key ingredients for the meal and couldn't find birthday candles anywhere. The chocolate cake recipe was in metric and the oven burned half the cake.

I felt like the mom in "The Poisonwood Bible" who takes her daughters to the African bush with her minister husband and insists she take Betty Crocker cake mixes with her so the girls birthdays would be "just right". What she discovers in the kitchen hut is that she has the cake mixes but is completely without the things that make them "just right". No eggs or oil to be found.

Frustrated, I walked outside to let all know dinner was ready and heard giggles and squeals of delight as they played in the huge yard. And I realized, we're not in the land of Target and Wal Mart anymore and that's a good thing. The birthday celebrations won't be the same. Instead of spending time and energy making everything feel like home, I need to spend that time and energy making this home. Not a hard thing when you look around and meet the people and feel the breeze and the sunshine.

We sat down to a dinner of pork tacos missing the black beans and jalopeno peppers and real limes or cilantro. All three girls excitedly talked about school and new friends and things they can't wait to see and do. The chocolate birthday cake did not have glowing candles. And as we made birthday wishes for Iz, they were not wishes for things, but for experiences here.

It turns out you don't need Betty Crocker after all.

Thirteen Years Ago, I Fell in Love

Thirteen years and several days ago, I fell in love.  She arrived in mid September of 1995 and stole my heart immediately.  She has spent the past thirteen years solidifying that love and I am immensely grateful everyday I get to be her mom.  Sometimes I look at her and marvel at how much she is like me. . . 

• her quick wit
• her dry sense of humor
• her ringing laugh
• her love of words and the stories they weave
• her ability to get in there and get things done, no matter how boring or mundane the task
• her reaching out when she sees people in trouble
• her fierce loyalty to those she loves

Other times I marvel at how she came from me, how she could be a part of me because there is so much that is foreign to me. . . 

• her passion and drive
• her acute sense of responsibility in all aspects of her life
• her need to make everything ok
• her wanting to please
• her wisdom
• her picky taste in dessert
• her sensibility
• her athleticism-she can do lay up and sink a free throw
• her Boy Scout attitude-always be prepared, as evidenced by the contents of her pockets

The teenage years will be a true test of my ability to see past myself and appreciate all that is different in her.  I know that because of her, because of who she is, we will come out on the other side stronger, more solid, and I will emerge more in love than I ever knew was possible.

My Life as a Man

Last weekend, Sept 20-21, Mel and I headed off to our second of four festivals for this fall.  We have worked our hiney's off getting ready for the festivals and my family has been neglected-to say the least.  I spent Saturday (Micaela's Birthday) at the festival and met Brandon and the girls at Chili's for dinner to celebrate along with Mel and Randy and their kids.  Micaela was opening her presents and with each present I would ask "Who is that from?"  Brandon then looked at me and replied "Us"!  He had done all the shopping and wrapping for her birthday and I got to ooh and aah as she opened them.  Sunday I spent the morning home with Iz who was sick while Brandon went to church and then I headed off to the festival in the afternoon.  I came home to a cooked dinner and Brandon had made a birthday cake for Micaela.  I was happy and fired up from a good festival and Brandon looked and felt like he'd been run over by a truck.  He had spent the weekend schlepping the girls to the 8 million commitments on the calendar, caring for, and feeding them, temper tantrums and all.  I was thinking my life as a man was pretty cool and should be extended beyond a weekend until I realized I was missing the most important part, my "business" does not have to keep the lights on.  The small profit I made last weekend was spent at the festival before I even arrived home.  I am grateful for a man who was willing to swap out for a weekend or two and who loves me enough to schlepp off to work each day to a legitimate business that does keep the lights on.

The Game of Catch Up

At the Reynolds house we're playing the all too familiar game of catch up and the good news is we're finally to the catch up the blog phase.  That means one of two thins,  I've caught up on a long list of other things or there is something that I'm avoiding.  It's probably a little bit of both!  Micaela has helped me out and done some blogging and writing about our summer fun that we will post soon!