Where are you from?

I'm a bit late on this but with my newfound freedom, it was time...

Mariana wanted to visit Andrew but when she looked into the planes, trains, and automobiles options she found that not a lot of folks visit Kentucky so the options were limited, out-of-the-way, and long. Looked like she'd have to drive herself. So I said, "Let's make it a girls' trip!" And we did.

Turns out we drove all that way just to go to IKEA.

Not really. But it did help that we had a mini van and they had a wish list of items for the apartment. So for all of you IKEA cult followers, I have finally been to your favorite place. For the first and last times. I just don't get it. We did have some good bonding time putting everything together with one screwdriver between us. If you don't know what to get Andrew for Christmas, he could use a nice electric drill. Or three.

Anyway, it meant that by the third night, we had a table and chairs to sit upon for eating. Not that we minded standing around up til that point. Not at all.

While Andrew worked, he sent us off to the Red River Gorge with its beautiful natural stone arches.

We couldn't help but notice the beautiful burnt-orange (reddish) rock.

Hence the name, Red River Gorge.

It only took us halfway through our trek to figure that one out.

Their claim-to-fame is Sky Bridge.

They didn't tell us that we'd be walking through the sky on a stone bridge. Without guardrails or fences. How can that even be legal? I decided to let Mariana try it first. If she made it across, I'd give it a try.

She made it across.

I did, too.

The key is to not think about the drop off on either side.

The next day was a little safer. The Lincoln Museum and Lincoln's log cabin.

They built this whole monument thingie, carefully disassembled the actual cabin, reassembled the actual cabin, made it smaller to fit, dedicated the whole thing, and opened it to visitors.

Then many years later, when technology and science were ready, they tested the wood in the cabin only to find it couldn't possibly have been Lincoln's cabin.

But it was a nice monument around what could-have-been-but-not-quite-Lincoln's-cabin cabin.

And they even had a scaled down model with Braille for Victor. Except we hadn't invited him on this trip.

On my last trip to Kentucky, Andrew and I started the tradition of finding out-of-the-way-southern-BarBQ places to sample. While we deemed last trip's choice to be better food, this place wins in the signage category. You just can't go wrong with potty humor.

And us northerners don't know what we're missing when we refuse to pair archery and BarBQ. They might just have something. Except I was not going to eat my meal facing all those heads.

We also helped Andrew church shop since he has just moved for the third time and he and Sarah need a new church home. I'm all for southern hospitality but this church had too many all-in, full-on, over-the-top huggers for my vote. I'm guessing they don't have a whole lot introverts joining. But I applaud their enthusiasm and obviously it's working for whole lotta folks.

One last meal together before it was time to go. You can't go wrong with Panera. No Bar B Q but also no surprised or dead deer on the walls. Even in Kentucky.

We enjoyed a nice meal together, minding our own business, when I noticed the woman at the table next to us eyeing us up.

As she and her husband finished their meal, she approached us with what we initially thought was that southern charm until she said, "Are ya'll from another country?" The thoughts that went through our heads at that point...

Mariana politely pointed out that no, we were just from Pennsylvania.

Oh.

Maybe she should have been more specific.

We thought she understood that we hadn't needed our passports to arrive in her part of the world and we continued to have a nice but unusual conversation about Mariana's hair and our skin tone, and were Andrew and Ana twins?

As she walked away she cheerily announced, "Welcome to America!"  We were very confused.

Thank you, ma'am, we very much enjoyed our stay in your delightful country.

First day report

I keep getting asked for a report on how the first day went.

Actually, I did fine. After those initial sad-happy tears, of course.

But then I realized no one was wondering about me. They're all asking about Victor. Except for that one person who asked and after I told him about the two sets of soiled clothing that came home in Victor's backpack, he kindly interrupted and said, "No, I'm asking about you." You know who you are and thank you.

But for the rest of you, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why all these folks thought I would know how his first day was. You put your kid on the bus, you keep yourself busy for about 7 hours, then you meet the bus and day over. Then I remembered that I'm the old mom who does things the old-school way and all these people are young moms in the helicopter generation. They're used to instant access information about their child. These are the moms who have video cameras to secretly record the babysitter while they're gone and for whom I've had to sit through days of freshman parent orientation meetings at college because they just. can't. let. go.

Which made me remember the modern invention, Seesaw. So I located the icon on my phone to gain that instant access to my child's day.

Only to find that I still had his preschool class on my phone.

So I asked a teen-ager in my house to help me figure out how to put the new classroom on Seesaw. Cause they're closer in age to the parents of kindergartners than I am and they know these things. Unfortunately, they're ready and primed to helicopter their own kids.

Not if I have anything to do with it.

But I digress. You wanted to know about Victor's first day.

His teacher had very nicely provided me with this (sweet?) photo. I think it's for all of us born before Pinterest, who can't possibly start taking cute first-day-of-school photos with this child because Child #1 - Child #8 will get jealous.

And that's it. Nothing else for all you helicopter friends, wanting to know about Victor's day.

I tried going straight to the horse's mouth. Only this horse has an amazing imagination. This is all I've got for you:

He met Scarlett Johansson. Yes, the actress. Yes, at school. No, he has no idea what she looks like but Sing is one of his two favorite movies and he always insists on watching through to the very end, when the descriptive text narrator starts listing the credits. As soon as Scarlett Johansson's name is read, we can turn off the movie. Not before. Every single person who asked about his day, from family to friends, was told that he met Scarlett. Apparently, she made quite an impression on him.

He came home with a band-aid on his calf. When I asked about it, I was told an exciting tale of a large pipe or pillar falling down on him and blood spurting everywhere.

My guess would be a scratched-open mosquito bite.

He said the coolest thing about school (also the thing that surprised him about school) was the beeper ball on the playground. This one could be true. We used to have a beeper ball but the charging connection broke and that was a very difficult day in the King household. So if the school actually provided a beeper ball for the visually impaired child, I'm with Victor - that's cool and surprising.

I was told that his friend, Zachary, didn't make it to school only I know that's not true because I saw a picture of Zachary's parents on Facebook very much enjoying their first child-free day. And because I know that Zachary gave his MomMom the best thing we have to an account of Victor's first day,  "Victor did good. He didn't cry or yell."

I wasn't worried about the crying but the yelling? I do know that Victor has an interesting bus-mate who, in Victor's words is mean and wasn't filling his bucket (kindergarten-speak for not being kind). That's one of the problems with riding the van. You're there because you have behavior issues, but so is everyone else. When I suggested that she probably needed to hear him respond with kind words, he gave me a sample of what he did say. Ummm, pretty sure both she and he got off the van with empty buckets. Let's all say a prayer for that van driver.

All-in-all, if there was no yelling in school, I'd call that a good day. Because Victor-yelling is the kind every student would be going home and telling their parents about. Because that's definitely more sensational than a visit from Scarlett Johansson to a no-name town on the first day of kindergarten!

When I later asked, "If I called your teacher to ask about your day, what would she say?" this question gave him pause. Finally he replied, "Don't ask her if I met Scarlett Johansson."

Renember me!

Big kids started school yesterday. They really weren't into hoopla but the Good Doctor forced the seniors to have their picture taken. They were good sports. And even smiled. Kind of.

The middle schoolers were next. Hope Anne was all set for her first day of real school.

Her outfits for this week were carefully selected (from head to toe) several days ago so bedecked in her pink, they set off. As my mom said, if confidence can be gained from wearing pink, she's got it covered.

As the girls started across the yard, Mr. Victor yelled, "Renember me!"

"Yes, Victor, we will renember you."

So they came back for renembering hugs.



Kind of hard to forget you, Buddy.

But today is his day.

He nailed the kindergarten orientation last week. Kind of hard not to be successful when you are one child surrounded by four adult aides.

He was definitely excited!

He started to cry as I prayed for him at breakfast. He told me it was sad-happy crying.

I get it, Buddy. I get it! Sad-happy tears here, too.

Yes, after 23 years of always having at least one child at home and often several little bodies milling around, sad-happy was the phrase of the day.

But who's sitting around thinking about it? There's a child to be taken to the orthodontist, and groceries to be gotten, and all those rooms to clean and purge... 23 years worth!

Victor-isms for a new school year

Victor starts kindergarten tomorrow. My prayers go out to his homeroom teacher and the whole, big, wonderful team supporting our miracle as he begins his educational journey. I hope you all have lots of patience, eat a good breakfast, and have a sense of humor. He's all yours...

********************

One evening, Victor asked me what "genetic" means. Surprised by his word choice, I asked him where he had heard that word. He told me that Hope used it. Surprised again (and HopeAnne was just as surprised to be accused in this instance), I asked if he remembered what other words she had used with "genetic". He told me that she lets him play with her genetic sand.

"Oh," we all laughed, "You mean kinetic sand!"

Yes, he agreed, that was it.
But then, since we had made so much of his use of "genetic", he still wanted to know the meaning of this word. So, we talked about genes and traits and all of that good stuff.

The next evening, at the dinner table, we were discussing new vocabulary Victor had learned that day. Next, HopeAnne recalled the "genetic" conversation from the evening prior. At this point Victor jumped in to say, "I remember what 'genetic' means, it's what comes out of your pants."

(Genes? Jeans? Pants? Get it?
Never mind. Victor does.
And that's all that matters.)
********************

Mom, I farted a B flat and an F.
********************

Me: You're a trip.
Victor: Then you're a trickle.
Me: You're a hoot.
Victor (after some thought): You're a hot water heater.
********************

The dinner table conversation one night focused on role playing what Victor should do if someone says mean words to him. Actually, we started out suggesting that he shouldn't say mean words to others but then he wanted to know what would happen if it was the other way around. We told him that first he should try talking with the person who spoke unkindly and if that didn't work, then he should tell Mom.

After a bit of role playing with big siblings pretending to call each other mean things like chicken nuggets, Victor asked me what I would do if someone called me a mean word, since Mom appears to be the end of the road in these situations. Who would I tell? So I asked, "Well, you call me mean words all the time. What do I do?"

He didn't have to think before confidently declaring, "You tell me to stop and then you pray."
********************

Victor: Mom, do police sleep?
Me: Yes, but if they work during the night, they might have to sleep during the day.
Victor: Oh, so police are nocturnal. Or some of them are, right?
********************

While walking across the parking lot and not wanting to hold hands with his friend, Miss. Jackie...
Jackie: If you don't hold my hand, we're not going to the playground. Do you understand?
Victor: Yes, I have some underpants.
Jackie: I didn't say "underpants", I said, "Do you understand?"
Victor: NO! I don't want new underpants!
Jackie: Never mind.
Victor: What, Miss. Jackie? I can't understand.
********************

Victor: Mom does NOT like it when I keep banging on the steps. It really drives her crazy.
Miss. Jackie: Then why don't you stop banging on the steps?
Victor: Maybe she will get used to it.
*********************

Victor: Miss. Jackie, I really love you so, so, so much!
Jackie: I love you, too, Victor.
Victor: Want to get buried with me?
********************

Mom, do you have burping skills?
********************

Mom, you make the best smelling pancakes.
********************

When I get money I'm going to go to the Dollar Store and buy you a fresh cup of paint.
********************

Victor: Hey, Miss. Jackie, I'm 5.
Jackie: I know. That's great. Now you can go to kindergarten.
Victor (with a big smile): Yep, pretty soon.
Jackie: What do you think you will do at kindergarten?
Victor: Maybe get a snack.
Jackie: And you will learn lots of things.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you will have lots of fun.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you will make lots of new friends.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you need to be nice to your friends and use kind words.
Victor: Well, we'll see what happens.

Coop checker

Ever since Christmas, when the Good Doctor made public his career shift, and wrote a somewhat misleading article about how his new job configuration would make it easier for his wife to work outside the home, friends and strangers alike have been asking me what on earth I plan to do.

As if I know.

Most of the time I say something like, "Well, the only thing I do know is that I'm 99% sure I'm not going back into teaching." And if they press me with the why question, I answer, "Because I was the first one there in the morning and the last one to leave at night. John was in grad school and worked an hour away from home so there was no one waiting for me or needing me at home. I could put that much into my teaching. Now I have a family at home and I feel like I'd be torn between the two worlds."

But then I sat in Victor's IEP meeting this week, and secretly wished I could be any of the teachers in that meeting. All of the fun parts of teaching came back to me and for a moment, I was ready to unfreeze that certificate, take all the classes I would need to take to bring it up-to-date, and send out resumes.

Until someone mentioned inservice. I hate meetings. This teacher much preferred the other side of the desk.

The moral of the story is that I still don't know. But about a month ago, I did find the perfect job.

It all started when someone told us that you can have chickens in our township. Three chickens, to be exact. You just have to pay the township your chicken fees and then follow a few (just three pages long) guidelines and have your coop inspected by the township's official coop checker, and then get yourself some (three) chickens. Hens, of course, cause nobody likes roosters. Except maybe hens? I don't know. I didn't grow up on a farm.

But the Good Doctor did. And when he heard the word chickens, my I-hate-dogs-and-cats-and-all-animals-cause-I-grew-up-on-a-farm touting husband, declared that we would be getting chickens and that they would be all his, he would take care of them all the time, and no one else should even try. (You know what happens when kids use this argument to get their parents to buy a pet and then after a few weeks the parents are the ones feeding the pet and taking it for walks and cleaning out the cage? Yeah, same thing happens with chicken-loving husbands.)

So he walked himself over to the township building and paid his chicken dues. Then he memorized the three pages of coop guidelines and bought himself a coop.

Step 1: Paint outline of coop on ground so official township coop checker can approve of your location. And so neighbors can wonder what kind of crime occurred in your backyard.
Step 2: Have official township coop checker come to your home to approve your proposed coop location.
Step 3: Place coop over painted outline.
Step 4: Have official township coop checker come back to your home to approve your official coop location.

We waited with baited breath to learn the fate of our coop from the official coop checker.

Best words ever heard, "Coop is ok"

To say we were pleased with the results would be an understatement.

And this was when I finally knew what I wanted to do with all of my new-found freedom and with the Good Doctor's freed-up schedule.

I want to be a coop checker.

I suspect the class load might be tough:
Types of Coops 101
Beginning Report and Approval Verbage
Advanced Inspection Techniques and Tools
Page Filling Scribbles (This is a senior-level course only)

But I think I could study while I eat my bon bons and watch my soaps, don't you think?

I figure there can't be all that many coops around so I would still be able to pack up and visit my away-from-home children whenever I want. I can still have my Saturdays and Sundays off. I know this because my kids made me watch Parks and Rec and we all know nobody in government works on Saturdays and Sundays. I could plan around my kids' school schedules, leaving after they leave in the mornings and returning before they get home in the evening. Best of all, it shouldn't take too much energy.

Because really, how long can it possibly take to write, "Coop is ok"?

Cindy King, Coop Checker

Better than Poop Checker, which Victor seems to think is my current job.

The year of...

Every year at the beach has its own memories. Same place. Same faces (with a few variations in the King clan). Many different experiences.

This year will forever be remembered as the year of the police. (Long story)

The year Grandma came to visit.

The year of the amazing water rescue by the gallant and over-zealous lifeguard who "rescued" Annika, who didn't need rescuing, from water less than knee-deep.

The year of the back injury. Sorry, Chad.

The year Victor found another outlet for his sensory-seeking body.

The year of the seashell pictures.

The year of the unicorn.

But always, the year of the cousins.