IT'S A LOOK!

We finally got most of our uniforms.   They are missing hats and the socks.  Who knew they had a fire at the sock maker's factory?  Oh well, they are happy to wait.  The last picture shows friends in full uniform.   It's from a different school but almost exactly what my boys complete look should be.  Can you believe that 14 year old boys willingly dress like this?  They iron their own shirts, too.  I'm loving that idea!

Kimberly College is turning out to be a very good experience for the boys.  The jury is still out on their performance compared to their USA peers.  Only moving back will tell us.  All I know is the teachers seem very capable, R and J are so happy to be there, and they are learning.  

They are expected to write 200 words or more a night as well as the 20 min read.  It's been amazing to see how weak the boy's writing skills are.   R's teacher sat down for a 45 min. one on one to explain brainstorming and organizing your thoughts.  I think she even called it a thought map?  While the other kids will continue turning in daily writing he will do his in steps until he has learned the skills he needs.  I loved that.  I might add that he loves writing and has eagerly attacked all of his assignments.  They're finishing up the term this week with a debate on movie censorship, a forum on celeberities and their contributions, and a mock trial.  Not to mention that Wed night we go to their Animaniacs night to watch the kid's animations.  

Jeremy is among the youngest so he gets a little special treatment as well.  At parent teacher conference one of his teacher's explained that she hadn't been able to read his papers.  That's why he has to type everything.   Now if we can just get him to capitalize and puctuate.  Wow. Now that they've been here awhile I have asked the teacher to help make sure he gets a book from the library (we brought hardly any with us) and continues to work on literacy.  Math (they say "mets") is of supreme  importance to Bart so between the two of us and this neat school we may just see the day R and J graduate from high school knowing how to read, write and do a bit of "rithmitic".

It's hard to feel like you know what's going on academically with your kids.  At least for me, I often worry that they won't be prepared for college.  I wonder how stiff the competition will be at that point?  We'll see.  Will they even have the desire to go?  I can say that Kimberly College is the first school where I have seen my kids enjoying their learning.  That's got to be worth something as well!! 

The Flat Tire Blessing

I finally talk myself out to the bike around 9 am.  Within minutes I make a very bad decision.  Can you believe that I actually looked down, realized I'd left my patch kit and pump at the house and decided to continue the ride regardless?  It would have taken me about 5 minutes to go back and grab all of that.  And that I rode hard for 15 minutes up and down hills away from my house, miles from a phone or gas station without a mobile phone or money or anything buy my water bottle?  Well, why not?  I mean, I had never had a flat tire before. 

Bart always gets those.  His tire goes pffffffffft!  We stop.  I watch him only because I feel I should.  Maybe I'll remember his procedure.  He loosens the bolt, releases the brake,  pulls the tire off, rips out the tube (usually dripping sweat everywhere by now).  Next he spits on it looking for little air bubbles fizzing indicating the hole.  He grabs a little abrasive disk and rubs like crazy then carefully applies the adhesive followed by a little perfectly round patch of rubber which he patiently smoothes and pats.  The edges have to be flat.  Finally he puts the whole thing back together again.  Kelli happily watches as he pumps up the tire then pops the cap back on the metal stem.   "Good Job Honey!"  I say.  Usually I have felt quite grateful for the rest.

Well sisters (and the odd brother or two who may have logged on by accident!) it ain't the same when  it's you, alone, out on the hightway!  It's not restful or interesting.  It's stupid.  Especially when you're missing all of the ingredients required for a successful repair.  If I'd had that I would have just looked, you know, cool.  The girl on the side of the road in the hot sun, independent, resourceful, capable. 

Instead, I find myself feeling remarkably ashamed as I walk, pushing my beautiful bike, in my stocking feet down the long road home.   Bike shoes are impossible for walking.  Those bike shorts are no treat  either.  They  are great for bike comfort but not a cute or comfortable thing for those of us with a more generous thigh.  Feels like you're wearing a loaded diaper, too, that's not cool, ever.  

Honestly, I nearly cried.  I wanted to but I kept the faith and continued on my journey.  "Should I flag someone down?  Will someone just stop for me?  I am so dang embarrassed.  Prayer.  Prayer.  Bart, come and get me.  Bart. Bart. Bart.  You're wife is is trouble come get her.  Prayer.  Prayer.  Prayer. (Might as well talk to someone that can hear me)  Geez, Kelli, why don't you stop at that house back in the trees?  I am way too embarrassed.  Just keep walking.  It shouldn't take more than ....well, than .... hmmm, oh my goodness, an hour and a half!!  Ohh, it's hot.  Why isn't anyone stopping?!  What's the matter with you people?  That guy had a truck and everything.  C'mon people.  You think I am just out here for joy walk?!!  You guys are sooo stupid!!"

"Hey, here comes a biker!"  "What, no cell phone either?"  "No worries, it's not far."  "Yeah, thanks for stopping anyway."   "Have a great ride."

At that point I knew from that little act of kindness from someone who knew exactly what I was going through that this problem would solve itself.  Two minutes later a lovely lady by the name of Claire stopped,  asked me where I lived and then offered to take me home.  The bike slid smoothly into the back of her SUV.  We chatted for the short ride to the house.  She is from the Mauritius Islands and, you guessed it, she's a biker.  Hopefully I'll run into her again when I start riding with the women's bike club.

So, a fellow biker saves the day.  She knew exactly what was going on with me because of her own personal experiences.  Truly living a life opens us up in so many ways.  Could it be that the sweetest part is that we recognize better when someone needs our help.  And we are prepared and willing, even desiring to give it.  I can't wait for my next chance to serve.  I hope I have the eyes to see the need and am in the position to offer it quickly and willingly.

There you go.  

Biker Babe

Well, not exactly.  It's not as edgy and cool as that.  Think more along the lines of spandex shorts that hit right at the meatiest part of  a lady's thigh, dorky red bike helmet, borrowed bike gloves, neon yellow shirt and a pair of bright white, $5 sunglasses.  It ain't purdy, but I am over that by now.  

Riding out of the garage and down the hill is a breeze.  Then it's left at the first turn and on up the hill to the main road that takes us along the coast.  Most of the time, we go south towards the boy's school.  Bumpy but at least it's a  downhill start.  With our bikes and teeth rattling we buzz through the round about, weeeee.  Fun's over.   Let the hills begin. 

On school mornings, when we're racing the boys to class in the bright blue car ( I call it my Hot Wheels car) the road stretches out like a roller coaster.  It's a whoopdeedoo road.  On a bike it's a brutal tease of up and down.  You get the sweet downhill for a moment or two before you're back to it, powering up the hill one section at a time. 

 I have learned to switch gears quickly, though I couldn't tell you what they're called.  Adjust the black button on the right handle bar on the way down.  Use the silver hooky bob on the front of the same handle bar for the uphills.  The concept is reversed on the opposite handle. For a real monster uphill I will push the black button on no occasion  the silver hooky bob because that's for very fast descent and I am afraid I'll press too hard and topple head over heels at top speed.  No thanks. 

It's a dirty business.  I sweat and strain.  My legs burn.   Sunscreen melts into my eyes and makes me cry.  But, just lately, I have begun to attack the hill just as I near the top by standing in the pedals and using my arms to pull and my  body weight to press for each downward pedal stroke.  I feel very strong and intimidating when I do that.  (Roooaaar!)

Mostly I ride with my biker dude partner, Bart, also my husband.  Usually I follow him.  He's a leader and knows where he wants to go, plus he's stronger and creates a draft for me.  That means if I ride close behind him, there's a pull.  We're like magnets.  It's amazing how in that position I can coast along while he does most of the work.  I really like that.  What I don't like is feeling like he has to wait for me.  

It happened this morning.   We were returning from a ride out to have breakfast at the bay.  He was up there going full steam into a head wind and up a hill, probably thinking that I would be hot on his heels.  I wasn't.  My ego wouldn't allow it for long. I  waved him on, shouting up to him  "Go ahead, I know the way home."    He wasn't having that.  "We're fine at this pace.  It's all the same distance."   I struggled to keep from insisting.   Back in his draft my legs got a rest and soon we were battling up the last hill with me only 10 feet back.  It was a nice finish to a long ride.  Ego's really aren't in our best interest, are they.

To be honest, I have only been out twice by myself.  It's good to go alone as well, but I'll always opt for my partner given the choice.  

A few things I have learned from biking:

1.  Don't forget your water.  Drink it.

2.  Make sure and unclip one foot from your pedal at a stoplight.  Make that ANYTIME you stop.  

3.  Hills are never as bad as they seem.  Sometimes they're worse.

4.  Don't go out of the bike lane without checking first.  Remember the big trucks.

5.  Be confident.  It's just a bike.  

6.  Adjust your gears for the work you're doing.

7.  Keep good form.  Heels down.  Push and pull.

8.  You'll be more surprised at how strong you are than how weak you are.

9.  Be a good follower.  Don't criticize.  Definitely tuck into that draft, baby!

10.  When it's your turn to lead, enjoy the front!

There's more but let's save it for later.  Every ride teaches me something new. 

  

The Gem I Almost Forgot

It amazes me that I could put off posting this experience.  Sometimes a child can change your perspective with a simple phrase.

We had just sat down to a dinner at my parent's house in Joshua Tree, Ca.  Seated at the corner next to Dad's left elbow was our guest, a busy, 3 year old, little girl, Madi.  Her mom was at a church meeting and her dad is in Iraq.  She seemed quite at home and I know my parents have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know their sweet family,  happy to be a support in any way they can, probably even more so because of Dad's service in the Airforce.

From the minute she walked in the door, I noticed that she had my mom hopping to keep up with her.  Into the candy, needing to go potty, looking for toys.  I am afraid I hadn't taken the time, yet, to get to know her as I was distracted by my little nephew.  I was totally unprepared for what this small being would soon teach me.

She was quiet as my dad began to offer a prayer over the meal.  Then we heard a little mumble from her.  Most of us, at that point, assumed she was mimicking my dad's words.  You know how little kids sometimes try to pray at the same time as the adult?  We listened more closely.  "Please," she spoke up this time.  "Please pray for my daddy."  It was a matter of fact, simple request.  Dad stopped mid sentence, then, began to pray specifically and at length for Luke, Madi's daddy.  

In an instant it was more than prayer, more than one little girl, more than just Luke.

She was, in my mind and heart, representing each little child who's parent is gone overseas, serving in the military, to do the job they committed to do.  They see it simply.  Please keep my Dad/Mom safe.  And why shouldn't they expect each of us to keep them in our prayers as well?

Thank you Madi.  I will.  Promise.

THE BOTTOM LINE

It's true.  Those were his exact words.  (A little giggle is at this very moment on the verge of bubbling up and out. )  My  normally bright husband said,  "The bottom line is, we are getting another car."  This, after some discussion where I argued against and he for the purchase of a second vehicle.  I won't bother to defend the point here.  Let's just leave it that we were in disagreement.  Doy.  

Don't we all disagree from time to time with our spouses?  What do you do with those "bottom line" statements? 

By the way, I am reminded of another "bottom line" statement having to do with paying for the house in Va to be power washed.  Let's see, I believe that time it was more like, "I absolutely am not paying money to have the house power washed!"  (Again, this is an incredibly intelligent man) I feel for him.  I mean who wants to eat that kind of cow poo poo later on?  How does one feel knowing that his "final word" is just hot air dissipating into outer space?  Of course the house needed it and of course "he" was going to pay for it.  And did.  To the tune of $400.  Ouch.

Shame on me.  I am, mercilessly, enjoying myself at the expense of my most favorite person in the whole world.  To our credit, it was all over with a sweet reminder that his undies were in the proverbial bundle and, "Honey, don't forget the last time you laid down the law!"  Hee, hee, haaaa, hooooeeeee, ooo.  Yes, I was laughing hysterically as I recounted the whole power washing incident while he covered his ears and in a loud voice said, "I'm not listening, I'm not listening."

The bottom line is, we work it out.  Doy.

O.K. on with the latest and greatest highlights.  We had a great weekend recently with our good friends the E. family.  It was our privilege to host them here at the house.  Finally, little people's fingerprints on my sliding glass doors!  We swam and ate and talked.  It was wonderful to have them with us.  Little J. and Big M. are 5 and 3 respectively, just two years apart just like our big boys who are now 13 and 11.  It's fun to see some similarities in the dynamics of brothers.  I always find myself reminiscing on that time when my guys were small much more when J and M are here. 

Amazingly Kevin and Julie left the kids with us for an evening on Saturday.  Even though they know us pretty well by now they still trust us!  Hee, hee.  Putting the boys to bed was a hoot.  First we had to have dinner, then a bath, then pajamas, warm milk, a story and then, finally, sleep.   Dinner was quick and easy.  Bath was a breeze.  They even looked a little sleepy.  I had high hopes there for a minute.  Maybe this was going to be completely different than my experience putting boys to bed when mine were young?  The warm milk was the hitch.  "Nope" "I don't want it"  No problem, I thought, by the time we're done with the story and snuggled into bed, they'll be goners.  Nope.  We had several stories.  We had songs.  We talked.  No sleeping.  I rehearsed the game plan.   What was missing?  Oh yea, the milk.  We went back up for another go.  This time the milk went over well.  I mixed warm milk with vanilla and a little sugar.  Mmmm.  They wolfed it down and off we went to sleep, I hoped.  They got into their bed (actually  a thin queen mat with sheets and a blanket).  Big brother, Little J, right to sleep.  Big M, who is actually little brother was having nothing to do with it.  He wanted more of that yummy milk (now we know why he's built like a professional rugby player!)  That little guy sat up in bed with his head nodding slightly forward then to the right than backwards always just catching it to sit up straight,  then starting with the nodding again.  He lasted about 10 minutes and then finally, at long last, kerplunk!  It took all the mothering left in my bones to get through it!  Actually, I found myself crying real tears for the loss of all the hours of mothering my own little ones,  just that way, that I expected to have.  That hurt usually lies dormant so I am glad to have had a chance to spend time with those sweet "little -ies" and heal a little in the meantime.

My big boys, if you wanna know, were awesome with those two kiddos.  

Australia, is turning out to be an adventure in more than just  travel, pools, beaches, koalas and kangaroos.  It's relationships that bless.  Each time has it's purpose for changing and growing us, preparing us for experiences that are around the corner.  

By the way, just so Mom P knows, although I have been a little irreverent here, I make sure that your very intelligent, bright son with the great "bottom liners" always gets his vitamins and a great meal these days.   I would rather no other man be giving me ultimatums than him!  

Random pics

  Thought you might like to see the tank system for the house.  All the rain water collects off the roof.  This is the water you use to fill the pool, water you plants, clean your brick and pavement, etc.  They have had serious drought conditions in the area, such that,  this past weekend, because of recent heavy rain, people washed their cars with a hose for the first time since 2006.  Odd # houses on Sat. from 4 - 5 p m and evens on Sunday at that same hour.  It was a huge front page deal!

Maria asked for pic of house and pool  This is the upstairs dining with master and kitchen/living.  There's a great porch off to the side of dining that master shares.  Great for pool/bird watching.  

I thought this sign warning cars to be on the watch for the aged was hilarious.  Do you think the parents would mind something like this for Christmas?

Last of all, my little bird in a tree up at the Bunya Mountains.  It was such a cool morning with the mist and then the little orange berries caught my eye.  The bird was an extra treat!

Marco Polo Pros

Hi Yous-

First of all, to any and all who might not know, there is a little word at the bottom of each blog post that says, "comments".  If you click on that you can send me a little message (hint, hint Moms).  It just occurred to me that some of my dear non-blogging family and friends may never have noticed that, especially since it took me awhile to figure it out myself.  Yes, that's even writing on my own blog.  I am a little slow but if you give me some time and tell me straight out, I'll get it!

Believe me, us bloggers live for our comments!

Let's jump into the next section of this blog for the night.  My boys, including my husband, have turned out to be champion Marco Polo players.  Who knew?  Several weeks ago we all played and had a dandy time.  I fared O.K. and got stuck with being "it" a few times.  No big deal.  I may have mentioned how I love listening to R and J with their dad in the pool while I am puttering around the house having a mommy moment.  They'll play for over an hour and I have thought much of it until yesterday.  Geez.  I can hardly compete and if I'm "it", forget about it.  Plan on Mom doing the Marco to their Polo for at least the next 20 minutes.  The pool is not big, nor is it deep, not to mention that I'm a pretty good swimmer so what up?!  They are all so good!  Jeremy takes a big rock and  his goggles and hunkers down in the deep end.  Sometimes you'll cluelessly right next to him.  He just stays still and you won't find out till you're no it.  Riley stays on the move.  He's always going and is quick.  I am amazed how long he can hold his breath as well.  Hubby is always taunting you with little splashes and close up "Polos" in a loud voice.  I guess he's the resident master of the game because we each consider it a major plus if we tag him.  Rarely happens!  

But I have to say the highlight of my game yesterday had to be watching dear hubby be it.  The rule is you have to start at the shallow end while everyone else collects in the deep end.  Once we are all ready the "it" person starts off with, "Marco" and we answer, "Polo".  Dear hubby's style is aggressive to say the least.  After he psyches us out by asking us if we're scared.  "You little guppies nervous?  Are you scared?" he closes his eyes and begins. "Marco?"  (sounds like a creep of a Stephen King movie)  "Polo" (then we dive down)  He hesitates as he listens for our voices then explodes in our direction at full speed.  If he doesn't grab one of us he'll stop and thrash his feet out in a huge double straddle kick, reaching out with both arms at the same time then twist and reach over and over for a minute.  No luck for the big fish.  He goes again, "Marco?", "Polo" we answer quickly, waiting to see which direction he turns.  "Marco?"  Boom!  He's after one of us, all of us if he can.  He's fast and furious and like the agitator on a top loader washing machine.  And I am  laughing my head off.  One time I was laughing so hard, and trying not to make a sound, that I couldn't move much less go under water.  If he would have stuck one hand out he would have had me!  The sight of him was just too much!  So, I am in now.  No more listening to the Marco Polo from the kitchen or computer.  Mom's gotta get in the game before it's too late.

Tomorrow, serious Marco Polo training begins!