Wednesday, February 4, 2009


The stomach flu is the latest visitor to Marcel's little too willing of a host body. I'll spare you the details. After one of Marcel's more prolific moments all over mommy (OK I almost spared you the details) Sammy shouted; "Mom put yourself in the trashcan! Gross."

Sammy's movements are more significant in some ways... He will be starting a new school in a few weeks. The decision has been weighted, and weighed, over-thought, and well researched. The down and dirty version (it's a theme around here) the new school has an excellent reputation for several reasons, and although I am content where we are, I want to be thrilled. And, in the new daytime digs Sam would be one of several children of color, and our family would be one of several families brought together by adoption. The teachers seem so upbeat and gentle simultaneously. Sam needs this. The room is girl heavy--meaning many more of them then the boy variety which is good for Sam too. He likes girls. Wonder why. The fact the boys will be in tow schools is going to be a management nightmare for me. But, eventually they will both be there. We are waiting for an opening for Marcel. Hopefully by the fall. It is also going to cost me an extra chunk a week, even with the sliding scale. But, the playground is 3x the size, and they go out TWICE a day (where he is now, it is sometimes once a day). Did I mention the on sight chef, and the fact that I will not have to prepare his lunch every day? He said; "they don't have friends there. But they will when they get to know me." Brilliant child.

Me Still writing a ton this year. My online class continues to feed and push. The memoir is taking shape slowly but with distinct curves and raised bits here, and tucked bits there. I have a new intern working with me at school that is working out so well. My teaching rises to the occasion, like my parenting when it is witnessed.

The biggest movement of course being that our E the most excellent Nanny-Sister-friend has indeed moved. I breathe through the grief and the fear there with the comfort that she is up the street a piece, and will always be a part of our family. My family would not have made it here without her. We all know that, and so does she. But when it is time to move on, grow, push those tendrils, then it is time.

Speaking of time, someone needs his two tablespoons of pedialyte.

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