What a strange, strange summer

 I realized this morning as I laid beside a gorgeous pool watching Kim and Madison dive for rubber fish that I have never experienced a summer like the one we are having now.  First of all, Kim and I are unemployed.  We are at home together 24/7.  Sometimes this is a good thing and other times, not so much.  In the ten years we have shared our lives, we have never had this much time together to do whatever we want.  For the first summer in Maddie's life, she is at home with us every day rather than at day care or day camp. 


I have also never spent as much time in the pool as I have this summer.  Our neighborhood pool is nearly empty until noon every weekday so the three of us have a private oasis in the sweltering heat.  Maddie and Kim are there just about every day at 9 when the pool opens and I am with them as often as I can be.  Kim is swimming laps and Maddie's skills are increasing every day.  We love to dive for these rubber fish and have become quite competitive.  In my whole life, I have never tanned.  Okay, maybe once when I was three but who remembers that?  I have always burned to the point of near blisters and then turned lily white again after shedding 3-4 layers of skin.  But not this summer!  Apparently I am spending just the right amount of time in the sun, covered in sunscreen, to gradually acquire some color.  As she applied Water Babies 50 to my back this morning, Kim noted she has never seen me brown. Not even a little brown. 


Our time in the pool this morning truly felt like a vacation.  Maddie and I dared and double dog dared each other to jump off the side of the pool, rather than the traditional easy-does-it method I prefer.  We swam laps, dove for fish, floated, goofed off, and generally had a ball for almost an hour.  I spent the next hour laying by the pool reading the unbelievably good screen play written by my friend, neighbor, and writing buddy - Tiffany.  Eventually Kim and Maddie exited the pool and laid on chairs beside me. 


When I asked Maddie what the best part of her summer has been, she answered swimming and math (with her math tutor, BJ).  I could have fallen off of my chair!  Can you believe it?  We laid by the pool talking about the fun things we've done so far and the other things we still want to do.  Finally, the heat got to us and we jumped into the pool all over again and swam and played and goofed around.  What a fantastic day!


I have never been an athletic person, but I have discovered something about swimming.  When I swim, I am present.  My mind isn't racing with to-do lists or deadlines or ideas.  I am not thinking about anything but the water and my girls.  I am so thankful to discover such a positive activity that is helping me both physically and mentally.  It isn't easy for me to turn off the internal drive.  Swimming makes it possible, which makes me think what the hell am I going to do come September?


The other super duper unique aspect of this summer is that I have written a book.  How many people can say that?  I have worked on this project for 2 years and then decided to scrap it all and start over.  I finished the entire manuscript in 4 weeks.  The editing process is much longer.  Every day there are dozens of e-mails from my editor, Jane, and my contact at the publisher, Zac.  And I get so excited every time the party planner for the book launch calls or e-mails with a question.  My life is amazing!  I get to spend time every day with 2 of the people I love the most in this world,  I get to swim as often as I want, I get to write and now publish my book, and I get to create - a non profit, a website, a dream.

Thank you, God, for such rich blessings and amazing opportunities.  I will never ever forget the summer of 2010. 

Little Helping Hands

 I am so excited to learn about this great non-profit organization in Austin called Little Helping Hands.  Created by a mother who wanted to instill in her own children concept of charity, Little Helping Hands offers children the opportunity to volunteer their time to help others in the community.  Kim and I took Madison to her first event 2 weeks ago where we packed brown bag meals for the women of St. Louise House, which provides housing for women and children who were previously homeless.  Along with five other families, we packaged 60 dinners for folks to eat during a training event that night.  I was blown away by the entire experience. 

This week I took Maddie to the giant Good Will retail store where she and other children scoured the floor for doughnuts, the little plastic pieces on the top of a hanger displaying the size.  Apparently the doughnuts are a huge safety hazard and it is easy for children to see them so each kiddo received an Easter like basket and before I knew it, Maddie had filled hers!  I straightened racks and gathered empty hangers.  There were snacks afterward and a tour of the warehouse.  I don't know how much Maddie actually got out of the tour, but she definitely knows where are donated clothes end up. 


I can hardly wait to find another opportunity with Little Helping Hands to involve Madison in a service oriented project.  She tends to be a bit too big for her britches and any chance I have to provide a reality check for my first born is a good thing.

What is foster care?

What a strange question for a child adopted from foster care to ask me.  I sat speechless across from Madison as we ate lunch together at McDonald's.  I was explaining to her the Hair-A-Thon I was coordinating for children in foster care when she sprung this question on me.  How could she not know what foster care is when it is such a big part of our life?  And then I realized it was the term she didn't know and not the concept.  The conversation went something like this:

"You know how our family sometimes takes care of babies whose parents are sick until that Mom or Dad can get better?"

"Yes."

"Well, that is foster care.  When one family takes care of the children of another family until the parents of the children get better."

"Do the parents always get better?"

"Not always.  You remember how we explained that McKenzie's birth mom and dad were very sick and weren't getting better?  And we were asked if we would like to be McKenzie's forever family since her birth parents were in such bad shape?  Well, that is called adoption from foster care."

"I know what adoption is, Mommy!"

"Yes, I know you know what adoption is but now you know what foster care is too.  You know how good you and your sisters feel when you have your hair washed and combed?  You know how pretty you feel?  Not every kid in foster care lives in a home where the Mom knows how to wash and comb their hair."

"Really?"

"Yes, really.  So those kids don't get to feel pretty like you and your sisters do.  Mommy is arranging for a bunch of those kids in foster care to get their hair fixed at the beauty shop and feel beautiful!  They'll get their hair washed and conditioned and the stylist can show their foster moms how to comb their hair like I comb yours.  I wonder if there is anything else we could do for those little girls to make them feel pretty while they get their hair done."

"We could paint their finger nails."

And with that, Madison learned how to give.  At her suggestion, I texted a handful of friends asking each one to spend an hour at the salon on the day of the Hair-A-Thon to paint little finger nails.  I even had one mom offer to donate all the polish, remover, emery boards, and cotton balls.  Maddie went on to ask if she could paint finger nails too.  I promised to let her practice on me this summer in order to be ready for the back-to-school Hair-A-Thon in August.  I am beyond proud of her.  And I pray she can humbly and lovingly participate without turning into the diva like Hannah Montana, who she often likes to mimic. 

Let's Go to the Movies!

Tonight was a wild one at our house tonight!  Madison, McKenzie, and Morgan were thrilled to have next door neighbor, Sean, over to play tonight.  There was a game of hide and seek, pizza in the kitchen, and eventually, a movie.  Madison tells Sean to stand at the bottom of the stairs while she and McKenzie dressed for the show.  The movie of the night, according to McKenzie, was Mommy I Shrunk the Honey.  In actuality it was Honey I Shrunk the Kids.


So there stands Sean at the bottom of the staircase, waiting on the girls.  He is sporting his usual attire of shorts, T-shirt, and flip flops.  Something bright catches my eye at the top of the stairs.  I turn to see McKenzie standing there, dressed in her finest sequences and black patent leather church shoes.  While she slowly descends, Madison is singing "Let's Go to the Movies" from the musical Annie.  Madison yells to Sean to take McKenzie's hand and escort her to her seat on the couch.  To my shock, he follows her direction.  And then comes back to meet Maddie at the bottom of the stairs!

So here she comes, Miss America Maddie, in her finest dress up outfit and white go-go boots from Halloween.  Sean took her by the hand and sat her on the couch, at which point he flops down on the short couch and spreads out comfortably to watch the movie.  Hysterical!

Sean is a great guy.  He and Maddie were in the same class for kindergarten and first grade.  He used to hate being the only boy on the cul-du-sac but now he doesn't mind so much.  Sean is the only child of a wonderful couple next door and I am willing to bet their dinner hour is very calm and quiet.  The poor kid could barely eat tonight for McKenzie yelling and laughing, Maddie waving her hands in his face to the point the kid is practically laying down in his chair to avoid being hit, and Morgan pooping up her back at the table.  Sean was like, Gross!  What is that smell??  God bless sweet Sean.  He may never come back to our house for dinner again.  I can guarantee he has never attended a finer or better dressed movie experience. 

Racism - Up Close and Personal

Last night, Madison and McKenzie took part in a Parent's Night Out event at the place where McKenzie takes gymnastics.  Kim and I were thrilled to get away for a nice dinner with our wonderful friend, Misty, and Morgan.  We were seated in the back of our local Outback Steakhouse.  I sat on one side of the table with Misty while Morgan and Kim were across from us.  Not long after we were seated, an elderly couple entered the restaurant.  The Hostess tried to seat them at the table next to us, but they said no and pointed to another table behind Kim.  This seemed reasonable, rather than offensive, to me because I'm not crazy about sitting next to babies while I eat either. 


Morgan, who has a fabulous career ahead of her as a Wal-Mart greeter, began waiving to the couple, calling Hi Nanny!  She did this over and over and I was very surprised when neither husband nor wife even acknowledged Morgan with so much as a smile.  A few minutes later, I noticed the husband staring at us so I smiled.  He turned away.  A few more minutes pass and he is staring again.  This time I really smile and offer a little waive.  Nothing.


I see the Hostess again, leading the way to the table next to ours for a white family with a sweet little baby boy.  He was less than a year old and displayed little interaction with his parents.  Suddenly, I see the elderly gentleman behind Kim making eyes at the little boy.  The eyes turn into waives and coos to a completing oblivious baby. 

And then it happens.  The thing I have feared since the first day parenting a black child happened on a Friday night in Outback Steakhouse.  I have always wondered how I would respond when it happened, and I always knew it would happen, but last night I learned that I respond in much the same way I respond in an emergency which is to freeze. 

I sat facing my daughter and my wife, for all intensive purposes, at just the right moment to hear this elderly man say to his wife, "N*gger Baby" and nod at Morgan.  I froze.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't speak.  I couldn't even tell Kim what had just happened a few feet behind her.  I sat there like a lump on a log in complete and total shock.  I couldn't feel anything.  Not shock.  Not disgust.  Not anger.  Not rage.  I was in shock.  I wondered what I could possibly say to this 75-80 year old man that would make him change his mind about our daughter.  And the truth of the matter is there isn't anything I could say. 

I sat there thinking back on the days when I rented a small apartment in Hattiesburg from an old man and his wife on Morgan Drive.  He was old and racist and he never missed an opportunity to drop the N bomb whenever he came over to repair something in the apartment.  I would sit at the kitchen table as he fiddled with the air conditioner or unclogged a drain, thinking how close I was to exploding all over this man for his use of such a hateful, horrible word.  I knew then there was nothing I could say to change his mind, the same way I couldn't change this racist man sitting in Outback on a Friday night. 

I finished eating and continued to watch him watch us.  Eventually, they finished their meal and stood up to leave.  They had only walked a few feet from our table when I told Kim what happened.  I was so afraid she was going to explode.  While I despised what he said, I kept thinking how old he is, how frail.  Kim's face turned bright red. She had me say it again to make sure she understood correctly.  And then she stood up.

Uh oh.  This wasn't going to be good. 

Kim looked in either direction to determine which door the couple used to exit.  She saw the back of his head through the window in the door closest to us and took off.  I still couldn't feel anything but I was definitely thinking the police would probably be called.  Kim is the fiercest of mother bears.  You don't mess with her kids.  Period. 

Kim was gone for maybe 3 or 4 minutes as Misty and I contemplated the possible activity in the parking lot.  Suddenly, she was in front of me, taking her seat across the table.  She confronted the man in the parking lot, asking him if he had any questions he would like to ask her about our daughter since he clearly had an opinion on the situation.  He denied saying anything about Morgan, saying it must have been someone else.  Kim assured him she had the right person and wanted to point out to him the words of hate he just spoke were about a baby. A baby.  Not someone who had caused injury or shame to his family.  Not someone he had ever met or knew anything about.  He looked at our daughter and could only see hate. 

Kim is my hero.  While I was frozen in place, she reacted calmly and directly.  She addressed the situation immediately to the man's face.  I am so proud of Kim and so proud to share this parenting journey with her.  I stayed frozen for the rest of the night and began to feel the impact of his words today.  It has bothered me more than I can say.  I look at my children and see love, hope, promise, joy, and pride.  I held my children next to my body in the pool today as we laughed and played in the hot sun, thinking how much I love them.  I cannot even fathom the word hate in their presence.  They are my whole world.  How dare he speak such words of hate within a few feet of my miracle.  How dare he see her as less than a Divine creation of the Lord God Almighty.  How dare he see only her skin and not her spirit. 

I won't ever forget Friday night at Outback.  It may be a long time before I ever want to eat there again.  I am fairly certain this old man has already forgotten the whole thing.  I need to let it go.  The problem is I can't let it go because I feel so sad every time I think about it.  I need to work through it, process my feelings and reconcile the entire event.  And I will.  Maybe tomorrow.