Levi Turns One

One year ago today, we drove like mad to Houston to meet our new son. One year ago, I suited up in a NICU and walked around a hospital corner to see him for the first time--not tiny and weak as Cara had been--but rosy round and giving the nurses whatfor. I kept having to pinch myself, because the whole ordeal had a dreamlike quality about it. I remember thinking, "This doesn't happen in real life."
We had a pretty simple celebration. Just family over after church for lunch and cake. I made a Cookie Monster cake and a smash cake for Levi, which he thoroughly enjoyed. His expression seemed to say, "Now, THIS is what I have been waitin' for my whole life!" I love my little man.
We did not hear from his birthmother. I hoped today above all days that she would call.

On Again, Off Again

My Internet that is. Just when I think I've had to painstakingly use the master's IPhone to post for the last time, I lose it. But, will make this short and sweet, and hope for good things when I take the computer in to geek squad tomorrow. There is no way we can afford a new computer right now, and we purchased a my-fi system that--since we have already spent the money for--sure would be great to use.
As of Wednesday, we are parents of a teenager. Not sure how I feel about that. K has been an easy-to-parent, precoscious, oddly mature child. Throughout his childhood I was repeatedly warned, "just wait until he gets to be a teenager," in a tone that clearly indicated all hell would break loose. So, we shall see.
Wednesday night Ian broke his sternum. He was leading a chase game with Randy in the church fellowship hall. They had just overturned a chair with their horseplay, when I hollered at them from the kitchen to take it outside. As they made one last lap, Randy caught up to Ian, pushed him, and he fell, full-force onto the metal leg of the upturned chair. A few seconds into his cries of pain, I knew it was no kiss-and-make-it-better bobo. His breathing was labored and he couldn't stop crying as much as his macho, nine-year-old heart wanted to. Not wanting to alarm him, I stepped into the hall and called my best friend who happens to be an RN. Could you seriously hurt yourself falling onto a chair? The answer, my friends, is yes! A trip to the ER revealed he broke his sternum. Now, no one knows what to do with him. Since the sternum bone is usually only broken in the case of a severe car wreck or by a surgeon during heart surgery,when the patient's movement will be confined for an extended period, they are not sure what level of activity to allow for an otherwise healthy child. And how am I supposed to keep this kid inactive while the doctors decide? He climbed before he walked.

The Talk

In a week, she will be 11 years old. I started less than a month after I turned 11. I knew it was well past time to have "The Talk," but it never made it to the top of my daily to-do list, and she never asked any questions. Frankly, I took her lack of inquisitiveness as clear indication that she had probably already gained a good bit of knowledge from the Americ*n Girl "Body Book" I found at the thrift store last year, and her girlfriends. I know from their mothers that several of her peers have started.
But when we were at my parents' house for Thanksgiving, my dad wanted to know what kind of deals I had nabbed with cuponing. When I told him I hadn't stockpiled much--just sugar and maxi-pads--Abby asked, "What's a maxi-pad?" My folks were aghast that I hadn't had "The Talk" and were pretty insistent that I move it up on my list of priorities. I don't know why they had their panties all in a wad. Their version of "The Talk" was Mom putting on a National Geographic film and leaving the room. Afterwards, Mom asked if I had any questions (I would have rather gnawed off my own tongue than to ask them). Dad wasn't even home.
But I digress. A few days ago we got some very troubling, saddening news concerning a relative. I knew I could not put it off another day, and it needed to include considerably more than menustration. I grabbed the "Body Book" and we headed down to the Sonic where I ordered pumpkin pie shakes, took a deep breath, and said,"Sweetheart, we need to talk."
Abby, already uncomfortably suspicious--not accustomed to being served Sonic shakes for no good reason--groaned, "Why do I suddenly feel as though I should be sitting on a porch swing?" (The porch swing is a euphamism in our family for a serious heart-to-heart conversation because that is where Daddy always called us to when it was time for a come to Jesus meeting.)
I wanted to have that conversation about as much as she wanted to hear it, but I'm so glad I did. Contrary to what I believed, she knew NOTHING about ANYTHING. If she had started her periods, she would have been terrified--thinking she was bleeding to death. She was equally clueless regarding the s€x Ed portion of our discussion. I was actually incredulous at her ignorance, at first thinking it to be feigned due to the embarrassment of talking with me about such things, but no, the longer I talked, I could tell it was genuine. I felt a sense of satisfaction that the master and I have been so totally successful in sheltering our kid's innocence, but I also felt frustration that because of the world we live in, I cannot be so
foolish as to allow that niativity to continue.
She listened, eyes as round as dinner plates, mouth sometimes dropping open:
"That's amazing!"
"Ugh, Mom, that's so gross. I don't want my shake anymore."
"Mom, you can't be serious."
And finally,
"Mom, how are you ever going to explain all this to Marina?"
Oh, Lord, give me strength.