Puppy Love

While we were "camping" the 3 little kids played this crazy game in which they pretended to be puppies waiting to be adopted. It involved a lot of high-pitched yelping and pawing at our shins for attention. They also "learned" tricks. When the yelping wasn't cranium-piercing, it was pretty cute.

What I find most hilarious is what they named themselves. Faith's dog name is Sparkles. Ray's is Fireworks. And William's? Flat Hair.

How funny is that?

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any weirder . . .

We met Ray and Kraon (pronounced Crayon).

Dawn and I were just minding our own business when (isn't that how all the best stories start? Well except for the ones that start, "I couldn't believe it! It was just layin' there!" Oh! And, of course, the one that starts, "When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.") a lady in a bright yellow swimsuit came over to us at our favorite beachside restaurant dive. She asked about Faith - if she was adopted.

We get this a lot. You wouldn't believe the confusion and total lack of dignity that can be caused by the sight of 2 white women walking around adoring a little brown child. Dawn is really very funny about it usually. She has a wealth of one-liners that she pulls out depending on just how red-necky or offensive or old or stupid the asker is. This time, though, for some reason, she just answered, "No. She's ours." The lady then did her best to convince us that she is not a bigot and didn't mean any offense and would never want to make us feel uncomfortable and blah, blah, blah. Again, we get this a lot. What we don't get a lot is what happened next.

She cried. She cried alone in her chair for a few minutes and then got it together and then verbally threw-up all over Dawn. She confessed that she had adopted a little girl that looked exactly like Faith 28 years ago. She had raised her as her own and dearly loved her like any good mother would love a baby. 3 years ago, her little girl who had grown up to be a beautiful woman died, inexplicably. She was a mess, of course.

Over the next few hours, we got to know Kraon and her husband Ray and their son Harrison. Here's where the weirdness really takes a turn. You all know how I change everyone's name, right? So it may be confusing both for you and me to keep this straight. Be patient. Deal?

OK. Baby Ray's name in real life is the same name that Harrison had when they adopted him. And Ray's name, well is Ray, the name that I've given my Baby Boy in this blog. Weird, right?



Faith totally took to Kraon who doted on her endlessly. They fished from the pier with a cane pole and raw shrimp that Kraon flirted out of a bartender. And by fishing, I mean that they got the bait a few inches from the surface of the water and managed to hook the fish jumping for it by its scales. Faith says that they caught, "What's the number after 8? 9? Yeah, we caught 9 fish!"

Ray, Kraon and Harrison are sweet souls and strangers no more. We've exchanged numbers and email addresses and made plans for boat rides.

My kids can always use another grandmother. Especially one who loves both of their mothers. And most especially one who fishes:)




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Lumbar Gladdle

Faith and Dawn are laying on the couch having the early morning tickle. The kids say, "Gladdle!" and then Dawn tickles, tickles, tickles until they say, "Gladdle!" again. So Faith was pushing Dawn's shirt up. Dawn said, "What are you doing?" Faith said, "I'm trying to give you a vertebrate." As they struggled for the shirttail (Remember that cartoon when we were kids? The Shirt-tails. That was weird.) and both laughed hysterically, Dawn managed to choke out, "A what?" "A Vertebrate!" Faith screamed.

A Zorbit. She's talking about a zorbit. (For those non-Huxstable watchers out there, that's the little spitting raspberry thing that you do on baby bellies.) She's 5 and correctly pronounces vertebrate. And knows what it is. I adore her.

The World According to Faith

Last night at Storm's baseball game, Faith kept asking to go play with "that girl" who was sitting just outside of her comfort zone. Dawn kept saying yes. Faith would go play for a few minutes and come back for a few minutes and then ask again. Dawn said, "Faith, you should find out what her name is." Faith said, "No, I already named her."

Why do we own a shoe rack? Part II

This morning, my children were engaged in the daily race to find their shoes before Dawn picks them up shoeless and carries them to the car forcing them to wear "school shoes" when they get there. (This is one of the perks that we pay for with our plasma at the private school. If our children refuse to get dressed in the morning, we are encouraged to bring them in their pajamas. The teachers will then lead them to the bathroom, hand them some clothes and instruct them to stay there until they are properly dressed for school. I gotta tell you, each of the kids has only had to do that once.) This morning it was Storm who was hopping around in one shoe. Faith joined in the hunt in a rare show of sportsmanship. I was changing Ray's sizeable and mushy load when I heard Faith running down the hall screaming, "Storm! I found it!" She slid to a halt right at the door of the bedroom and slung the shoe right into the poop.

No Shit!

I was just trying to figure out an excuse to not take Faith to school. (Storm is sick and William and Ray don't go on Tuesdays. It takes just short of an Act of Congress to get all 4 kids in the van; and I just wasn't feeling up to it.) I was running through my mental list of friends who would be willing to pick her up on their way to school when Faith ran past gagging. She managed to choke out, "The kitten pooped on me." She did throw up a little, out of disgust, but that's good enough for me.

By the way, the kitten is a she, not a he as we originally thought. And her name is Mao. Ray stutter-stepped behind her saying, "Mao. Mao. Mao. Mao." for 3 weeks or so and we have given in. Mao it is. Dawn and I enjoy referring to her as "The Chairman." I told you Nerdy Girls Make Me Hot.

Tap

We're trying to talk William into joining Faith in a Tap/Jazz/Tumble/"Creative Movement" class this summer. He's not convinced. We YouTubed Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly and the like. He thought all of that was hilarious, but was not inspired or enthusiastic about the class. Then we happened upon this little gem. We have watched it no less than 54 times. Faith, William and Ray laugh out loud every time. Ray does his little tap routine and Faith tries to shake William into submission. So far, he is not having any of it.

I hope you get a kick out of this.

Boobs

Last night Faith was running around with two balloons. She crashed into me and held them to my chest. I grabbed them, did a little shimmy and said, "Monster Boobs!" She giggled and said, "Like Ursula."

Twins

One of my followers and a rekindled friend of Dawn's, Laura brought up a good point. She was confused by my references to "Faith's twin" because she remembers (or thought that she remembered) Faith's birth as a single one.

We have referred to Faith and William as "the twins" for so long that it didn't occur to me that it would be confusing. Here's the real story. When Dawn and I met, Faith was 18 months old and William was just a 4 month-old babe-in-arms. But they were exactly the same size. Faith was itty-bitty for her age and William wore a size 3 month outfit home from the hospital. We and they have been inseparable ever since; and they have remained the same size ever since.

You would be amazed at the questions and remarks that we get about them. Faith's father is African-American-Dutch-Yadda Yadda. He is the true melting pot American, but most closely identifies as African-American. William's father is British - pasty white. Except for their size, the children couldn't look more different. And still we get, "Are they twins?" at least once a week. Dawn has a big time with it. She says crazy things like, "Yes, they are, but she is 14 months older than he." People smile and say, "Wow, that's really cool." She says, "Yes, and their fathers are so proud" or "Yes, they are but they don't have the same parents." People just smile and nod like bobble-head dolls.

Last week at school (they're even in the same class), the health department came to screen the kids. William is a 1/4 of an inch taller than she and a half pound heavier. Their BMIs are exactly the same.

So, forgive me if you have felt misled. But I can't believe that when they are in their 30s and she hasn't broken 5 feet and he is 6'4", that I won't still be calling them "the twins."