"The fence that makes good neighbors needs a gate to make good friends." ~Unknown 

We have officially completed the first full week of school.  SHWEW!   Life is back in full swing.  Homework, lessons, and early bed times...for all of us.

Party Pants is back in full swing as well.  That's Emma's code name, in case you've forgotten.  She is off at a sleepover tonight and so Clyn and I got to spend some time with our not-so-party-pants son.  We played cards and had breakfast for dinner...y'all know how we love that...Top it all off with a couple of episodes of Mythbusters and you've got yourself the perfect evening.

It is so disturbing when someone else's kid gets injured at your home.  Our next door neighbors, sweet people, have 4 little boys, ages 7 and under.  The three older boys (7, 6 and 4 yrs old) often climb our shared fence, walk themselves into my back porch and let themselves in my back door.  We've been working on knocking skills with the 4 yr old with little success.  Usually, the older ones have sent him over to see if "Jake" can play.  These children LOVE Jacob.  He'll go out in the backyard and suddenly you hear this unseen chorus of sweet little boy voices on the other side of the fence, calling..."Jake!  Jake!"  Bless his heart, Jacob will play with them sometimes, but he is 13 after all.  And though he isn't your typical 13 year old, he doesn't want to spend all his time entertaining children less than half his age.  Sometimes I have to rescue him from them.  Just this morning, as Jacob sat the kitchen table eating his breakfast, he says, "Mom, guess who is on the trampoline?"  Yes, it was the 4 year old.  Yes, it was 7:45 am.  He was just out there having a good old time.  This afternoon, Jacob and the three older boys were on the trampoline, "the tramp" as the boys call it, and mysteriously, the youngest (age 4) somehow ends up with blood gushing from the side of his head.  I did tell you it was disturbing.  Thankfully, he was not seriously hurt and no dash to the ER was necessary.  But still, I was more than just a little freaked out.  And I felt terrible, but, like I told Jacob, who immediately wanted to blame himself, it was an accident.  And I'm not going to pretend I didn't see it coming.  These little boys are wide open, and yet so adorable. 

It could be time to ban everyone but my own kids from "the tramp".  At least if my own kids get hurt, I don't have a potential lawsuit on my hands.  

"You can't be friends with a squirrel.  A squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit." ~Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

Take it from my friend Sarah:  You can never trust a squirrel. 

Or even worse--a bored country squirrel.  I always knew squirrels were shifty little critters.  Always looking like they are up to no good.  Just waiting till you aren't looking.  Now I know it's true.  Another reason to trust my woman's intuition.

Sarah tells me that, thanks to a pack of bored country squirrels, she now has her car in the shop awaiting $700 in repairs.  Repairs to some wiring that no longer connects.  Chomp chomp chomp, little squirrels.  Forget about those acorns, buddy.  They've moved on to bigger and better things...I don't know about you, but I'm thinking of taking up squirrel hunting.  Don't let that cute outer exterior fool you; they are out to get you.

In other news, I have returned to the gym after a summer hiatus. My treadmill experience informed me that I was grossly out of shape.  I am determined to run a 10K next spring so when I realized that I could really only run about 2 minutes at the time (walk 5, run 2, rinse, repeat), I knew the road to get to the 10K was going to be a long one.  I also knew I was in desperate need of some new running shoes.  How did I know?  My feet were screaming it at me.  So I hit the showers and then hit the shoe store.  No excuse now.

And that's all I have to say about that. 

Today begins day 6 of the 2008-09 school year here.  We are slowly adjusting.  And I do mean sloooowly.  Luckily for us, there's a holiday Monday.  Sadly, we already really need a vacation day. 

Here's to vacation days.  Just steer clear of the squirrels.  Cheers.

"Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into."  ~Henry Beecher, Life Thoughts, 1858

So the kids are back in school and I'm trying to reconfigure my life.  The whole getting-back-in-the-groove-thing doesn't come too easily to me.  They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and this is true for Jacob and me in the transition department.  Frankly, we are all walking around here like a bunch of zombies at the moment.  I think my lights were out by 9:30 last night and I am still having trouble functioning today.  Sad.

I find it funny, and I do not mean in the "ha ha" sort of way, how you get the back-to-school supply list, put together by and distributed by your school, and once school starts, there are all these "oh by the way y'all need this too" items.  I have now made two additional school supply shopping trips.  Today was one such trip.  I made it fun though. 

Don't get me wrong, I DO enjoy some shopping.  I think of myself as a bargain shopper.  Now, I may not necessarily NEED what I'm buying, but it is a BARGAIN, so that makes it okay.  At least that's my rationale.

I have recently joined up over at Flickr, upon the recommendation of my Spaces friend Sheila.  She has me hooked.  I made today fun by making it part of my "This Is Today" project over at Flickr.  You take a photo every day for 365 days and post it to the group.  So I spent part of my day out looking for photo opportunities and had fun with it.  I can only capture so much with my little Canon Powershot SD600, but it does a pretty snappy job, if I do say so myself.  Today's entry is to the left.  I was treating myself to some Chick-A-Lay.  (Follow the link to find out why I love Chick-A-Lay so much.  But one of the reasons is that they always have fresh cut flowers in little vases on all the tables in the restaurant.  It's the little things y'all.)  Dorkily, (don't think that's a word, but work with me) I whipped out my little camera and was inspired to snap a few photos.  People were staring but I didn't care.  I am exploring a new creative side of myself.  Then later when I stopped by Staples, I found myself looking longingly at all the fancy cameras.  But who can pop a big ole honking Nikon in her purse, eh??  Those photo ops can happen when you least expect them.  I think it will be a challenge to try to stick with it for 365 days, but hey, that's part of the fun.  I've hung in there for 9 whole days already!

And now is the time when I suppose I should be a good mother and go start dinner and supervise the homework situation.

"Home is not where you live but where they understand you."  ~Christian Morgenstern

I definitely feel like I have been "home". 

No, I didn't visit with any blood relatives, but instead with perhaps, my oldest friend in the world.  We met when we were 9 years old.  That was 30 years ago.  We laughed at how long we've known each other and how it really doesn't seem like it can really be 30 years.  But it is.  We couldn't believe it has been nearly 11 years since we last saw each other.  But it has been.  Fortunately for me, she and her family have come from their home in Pennsylvania to vacation at Litchfield Beach, SC, only about 2 hours from my home.  I couldn't NOT go see her.   

With someone you've known that long, there is a certain comfort level.  She knows me.  She knew me "before".  Before everything.  And even though we haven't seen each other for years, we picked right up.  As if it were yesterday.

Yesterday when we were having a sleep over and playing UNO by flashlight under the covers after her mom had told us (several times) to go to sleep.  Yesterday when we were in our church musical production (Moses and the Freedom Fanatics) where she was Moses and I was Miriam (Moses' sister) and we put baby powder in our hair to make ourselves look old.  We performed a little mini-revival of the production right there on the spot.  And we rocked it, thank you.  I thought I'd never get that baby powder out of my hair.

We visited together with her parents and in-laws.  We sat on the beach and watched our children play in the sand and surf together and marveled at how this could possibly be.  We watched our husbands play bocce ball.  We took lots of pictures and promised that it wouldn't be 11 more years before we saw each other again.

We talked about how we really are the same as we've always been.  And we are.

I don't care what they say, you really can go home again.

My friend, Moye, and me.  Two hot, almost 39 year olds.  That's right.

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."  ~John Ruskin

It's the first day of school and it's raining.  How poetic is that? 

I always feel sad on the first day of school.  For me, it's just a sign that my kids are on that runaway train called "growing up".  It is bittersweet for sure.

Emma woke up to her alarm and got herself ready--including doing her *own* hair!  This is new.  Usually I have to say, "Um, can you do something with that bird's nest you call hair??"  We'll see how long it takes for this to wear off.  Am I right?  I dropped her off and watched as she disappeared down the hallway.  And I will not go on to tell you how a big ole crocodile tear escaped my eye as I watched her go.  Nope, I won't do it.  (It was just one tear. Really.)  SIGH. Sniff.  My little girl is growing up.

Jacob was so funny this morning.  I woke him up.  He got dressed, brushed his teeth, etc.  He then came downstairs and plopped himself at the kitchen table.

JACOB:  "Mom, can I NOT go to school today?" 

ME:  "Of course you are going to school and you are going to be fine." 

JACOB, SMIRKING: "Well, I had to give it one last shot."

And then, I knew it would be okay.

We did the whole "meet the teacher" deal last night and it appears, upon first inspection, that the ones that we had time to meet, are nice people.  The resource/special ed teacher basically hand picked his teachers and arranged his schedule.  I am very grateful for all the help. Jacob and I met his one on one aide this morning and she made me smile.  Do y'all ever meet people like that?  You just look at them and they make you feel all smiley?  She has this infectious smile and laugh.  And as she opened her mouth, in her wide smile, I caught a glimmer of her Gold Tooth.  Gold around the edges with a gold star in the middle.  And if that doesn't say "How Do Ya Do?" well then I just don't know what does.  She warmly shook my hand and accepted my cell phone number and she promptly wrote hers down for me. I can dig it.  So far, so good.

But the great news is WE ALL SURVIVED!  Yes we did.  I am reminded of a little song...We get by with a little help from our friends.  I pretty much distracted myself today with friends, and then an entryway bench that my MIL gifted me for my birthday, which is still a month away, arrived today and I spent some time assembling it.

First Day Comments:

Jacob: It wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be.

For him, that right there is a pretty positive statement.

Emma:  It was boring.

There ya go.

For me, the Olympics is always about more than the competition; it is about the stories behind the competitors.

Ladies...and gents...get your Olympic inspiration here.  I know I have. 

We already know everything we need to know about Michael Phelps--nothing less than phenomenal, I grant you. 

But take a look at these three inspiring women and their stories:

• Oksana Chusovitina.  Earned a silver medal in gymnastics for the women's vault.  She is 33 years old.  This is her FIFTH Olympics...unheard of in women's gymnastics.    
• Constantina Tomescu Dita. Took gold in the women's marathon.  Her time: 2:26:44.  She is 38 years old.
• Dara Torres.  Swimmer.  We've heard of her too, but, can I just say three words:  ROCK HARD BODY.  OH, and three more:  41 years old.  Three silver medals in Beijing--career total of 12. 

I'm going back to the gym.  That's all I have to say about that.

"What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment.  And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new.  Right now."  ~Author Unknown

“It is not easy to stay with your loneliness. The temptation is to nurse your pain or escape into fantasies about people who will take it away. But when you can acknowledge your loneliness in a safe, contained place, you make your pain available for God’s healing. God does not want your loneliness; God wants to touch you in a way that permanently fulfills your deepest need. It is important that you dare to stay with your pain and allow it to be there….Dare to stay with your pain, and trust God’s promise to you.” ~Henri Nouwen, from his book, The Inner Voice of Love

______________

Most of y'all who read this fluff know we moved from Iowa to South Carolina a year ago.  In fact, it was August 10th of last year that we closed on our house here in SC.  I have been feeling pretty...hmm, nostalgic, I guess is the word...this last week.  It is strange. 

Emma still stays in touch with her closest buddies from Iowa, and I do too, although I must say I do a pretty poor job of it.  But I happened into her room yesterday as she was talking to her buds, Rachel and Aileen, who are sisters and two of her bestest Iowa friends.  <I have noticed that Emma likes to talk on speaker with her "peeps"...in her room.  I don't know why this is.>  I walked in and thought she was talking to one of her other  Iowa people and so I hollered out "Hey Mer!!".  To which Emma replied, "Moooom, it's Rachel and Aileen."  <Oh!  My bad, apparently.>  I proceeded to give them a shout out and then chat with them a bit...Emma didn't seem to mind.  At least she didn't say so.  But in those few moments, I realized just how much I miss those kids.  I seriously was choked up.  Their mom, Theresa, was one of my close friends, who I also miss a lot as well.  Is it weird for me to miss my daughter's friends?  Even though she has met some nice kids here, something just isn't the same. 

For the last year, there has remained a mass of about 10 boxes in my front room right here next to my computer desk.  Those last few boxes that I just couldn't...er, wouldn't...make myself get to.  The thought of having to sort through junk and require hubby to sort through what was his was somehow so incredibly overwhelming.  I would look at those boxes and they would stress me out.  They would invoke all kinds of angst and self-loathing.  I would aspire to conquer them by way of the "one box a day" theory and then images would flash through my mind of pulling stuff out of those boxes with no specific home for said stuff to live and....well, it just gave me a rash whenever I would think about it.  

Now as I'm sitting in my newly box-free area, I am wishing I had done it a year ago.  There are still some things I need to find a home for, but the calm that I feel in this much less cluttered space is huge.  I wish I had taken a before picture so you could appreciate the difference...and now posting an after picture seems moot, so you're not getting one.  Just trust me when I say a major load has been lifted.  Where the sudden motivation has come from, I do not know.  I mean, there's no company coming...which is what it usually takes for me to dig down deep and get into the "crisis cleaning mode", as I like to call it...or as Hubby calls it "The GO Mode".   I'm not going to try to analyze it.  I'm just glad.  I have even hung a few pictures.  My friend Lisa would be proud. 

Go ME!

I hear you asking...why hasn't she hung anything on the walls??  I have hesitated to hang things on the walls for a couple of reasons.  The main one being that I hate (with an indescribable passion) my living room furniture and in the spirit of potentially getting new furniture, I hesitated to hang things because, what if the new furniture would require a new room arrangement?  Then I'd have to rearrange wall hangings and then you've got those pesky holes in the walls and then, and then...  I tend to feel that if I hang something, I am then "married" to it and it must remain.  But I came to the realization that, sadly, there was no potentially new furniture on the horizon and so, let me just get moved in to this house already! 

If I'm honest, I would have to say that even after a year, I don't really feel "plugged in".  I love being here in terms of location (closeness to family and ocean) and I have made a couple of special new friends.  But I really miss the connections we had made in Iowa and have, at times, felt quite lonely.  Though my loneliness has been of my own making.  

I recognize my tendency to retreat after a move...though somehow that awareness doesn't necessarily prevent the retreat.  Something inside me seems to just kick in to some kind of auto-pilot mode and I do the things I absolutely must at that moment.  The rest...anything that requires any sort of emotional attachment or emotional output on my part...gets placed on the back burner for another time.  Which is when, exactly?

I know, poor pitiful me, right?  Sounds like I really need to get a life.  Stop whining and get on with it, right?  Well, maybe finally getting "moved in" will head me in the finally getting "plugged in" direction.  I'm tired of living in a state of "putting life on the back burner" and just simply surviving. 

With that in mind and as the new school year approaches, I am making New School Year's Resolutions: 

Move in and live life! 

Hang some pictures, already! It's okay if I have to move them later...there's spackle for that.

Tonight's dinner conversation:

Room Clearing Farts.  Not just Room Clearing Farts, but Room Clearing DOG Farts. 

Nice, right?

Yes. Yes it is. 

My son: "Mom, what kind of food would a dog have to eat to create a room clearing fart?"

Where is this coming from, I wonder?  But I go with it. 

My answer:  Chinese Food or Soy Nuts.

Emma said:  Beans.

Dad doesn't say anything, just starts cracking up.

What??

Suddenly, and randomly, I might add, the topic turns from Room Clearing Dog Farts to the Karate Kid and the whole "wax on-wax off" scheme of Mr. Miyagi.  How did it all come to this?  I don't know.

Jacob says, "Miyagi only wanted some free labor".  I quite agree. 

"Oh yes, he was teaching him Karate (Ka-rah-tee)", Emma says.

**Suddenly, I was reminded of the time we were driving through a local shopping center where there was a Karate studio and Emma, impulsively, read the sign as "Care Ate".  This was fairly recently and it cracked us all up because she immediately realized her mistake.**

So I jokingly say to Emma, "Oh, you mean 'Care Ate' don't you??" <wink>

To which she replies, with a tilt of her head, a raised eyebrow and a point of her fork, "Touché, Mom, touché."

She's 10.

<insert shoulder shrug and shake of head here> 

What is it with these people?  These "property management" people.  I'd like to manage THEIR property!  Yeah, that's right.  I'd like to go all ninja on them fellahs right about now.   

As my mind stewed during my post-nastygram-weed-pulling stint, I decided that "these people" have nothing better to do than to go cruising around my 'hood with their little rulers and magnifying glasses in tow measuring how tall everyone's grass is.  It must be their way of justifying how much our neighborhood HOA pays them to torture us all. 

You innocently go to your mailbox, only to reach in and realize that "these people" have been SPYING on you.  When?  When did they make their way past my front lawn, screech to a halt, and subjectively determine that my lawn was unsatisfactory?? 

No, we are not one of "those" homeowners with the manicured lawn and perfectly edged curb.  You know the ones.  The ones who live for each Saturday morning, when they can rise with the birds, pull out their shiny "precious" (a la Smeagol/Golum) and sculpt their yard into some kind of Edward Scissorhands-type perfection. All the while ruining a perfectly good Saturday morning sleep-in for the rest of us.  On the other hand, we aren't the Beverly Hillbillies either...though that could be up for debate, I imagine.  Just ask the Property Management eggheads. 

They send these arbitrary nastygrams and underneath the seemingly pleasant guise of "this is for the good of your neighborhood" lies the not so pleasant statement "pull your freaking weeds or we'll lay a big fat fine on you".  A lovely sentiment, really.  Makes me feel all warm and tingly inside.

SIGH

Oh, to have known about the neighborhood nazis a year ago before we purchased this home.  I'm thinking I would not be living in this 'hood.   If we hadn't just unloaded our other house, I'd almost be willing to move.  Almost.

“I will not play tug o' war. I'd rather play hug o' war. Where everyone hugs instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, and everyone grins, and everyone cuddles, and everyone wins.” ~Shel Silverstein

We are T Minus 8 days and counting here.  The back-to-school train is pulling out of the station whether we like it or not.  We made a brief visit to Jacob's school today to get a feel for the lay of the land in 8th grade world.  His classes are a little more spread out this year, but he'll have it down cold after a few days, I am sure.  (Positive thoughts, everyone!)  I have my reservations about it all, but I don't say anything in front of Jacob about it...he's anxious enough as it is. 

Sooo, ONWARD people!

What else...we've been having a bit of fun here at the end of summer.  We enjoyed a trip to visit some of Hubby's family in Emerald Isle, NC.   We took a boat ride (not fun--blogworthy in and of itself, but not today) out to a sand bar, with a family friend, and hung out there (super fun).

We went to see Journey to the Center of the Earth...in 3D no less. It was entertaining.  I confess to being more than slightly startled at one point.

We completed a puzzle...1000 pieces!!  "Birds of Your Back Yard" Grandma sent it to us a while back and I thought...Hmm, THAT looks kinda overwhelming!...But I finally pulled a folding table out of the garage, set it up in the living room and decided we would just leave it until that sucker got finished!  Well, it took us probably 2 weeks, but we did it!  Mostly Jacob and me, but it was fun.

We got the kids all registered for school.  Found out who the teachers are, and in Emma's case have contacted ALL our many friends to see who is in her class.  Turns out that one girl from last year (that we know of) is in there with her.  I'm sure there will be more, but she makes friends easily and I am sure she'll be fine.

Oh, and we've been watching quite a bit of the Olympics.  Tell me, people...was that opening ceremony amazing or what?  I've got to give China their props...they have gone above and beyond anything I've ever seen before. Amazing.  And any of y'all who saw it too, know exactly what I am talking about.

Here's a fun tidbit--One of my childhood friends is coming on her annual family vacay to where??  Super South Carolina, that's right.  We've known each other since we were about 9 years old--thanks to our parents who have known each other for many many years.  Our birthdays are within 2 weeks of each other and we usually communicate once a year around that time.  She now lives in Pennsylvania and I haven't seen her in probably 11 years-ish.  She is one of those people who you just pick up where you left off even if it's been 11 years since you saw each other.  Where she'll be is only about 2 hrs from us, so we're going to head up and hang out.  I know it will be a blast.

And just cause I'm feeling random at this moment--

Some things I've come to believe recently:

• Bactine LIES...it TOTALLY stings.
• As do band-aids who advertise "no sticking to your owie". PSHAW!! LIARS.
• Watching the Olympics is addictive.  Who knew beach volleyball was so fascinating??
• School should be 3 months of the year and summer should be 9 months.
• The summer book club my friend Torri and I organized for our daughters and their friends might have been more for us than for them!
• There are a lot more things in my life that are beyond my control than I thought.
• Having breakfast for dinner ROCKS.

That's all folks.

So, I've been tagged by my friend, Bill.  Seems like I was tagged not all that long ago.  That time I had to come up with 12 things.  I don't know if I can come up with anything else, but, just because it's Bill, I'll give it a go.  I'll already tell you, though, A) it will probably be boring and B) I ain't taggin' anybody else...I did that last time. 

Here are the rules:

Each person posts the rules before their lists, then lists 8 things about themselves.  At the end of the post that person lists 8 other people they want to tag, then visits each of their sites leaving a comment that they have been tagged & to come to your space & read the post so they will know what to do.

1.  I used to wear a size 8 1/2 shoe.  I had two babies, now I wear a size 9 shoe.  Random, I know.

2.  If I could manage somehow to live on the beach, I would...there's always hope.

3.  I just drank 2 Bud Light Limes.  They were pretty tasty.

4.  I am not one of those moms who can't wait for school to start back in the fall.  I love having my kids home in the summer.  Wish. summer. could. go. on. for. ever.  SIGH.

5.  I have moved 19 times and have lived in 6 different states in my life--that I can recall at this moment.  Oh yeah, and I would like to stop moving.  No, we were/are not military.

6.  I have a Bachelor's degree in social work.  Haven't used it since 1995.

7.  I lied about my weight on my driver's license...now there's a SHOCKER!

8.  My favorite word right now is DANG.  Sad, but true.  I say it a lot.  Dang.

There you have it.  Eight fascinating things about me that you didn't really care to know.  Peace out.     

"Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like."  ~Author Unknown

----------

As a woman, it is no easy task to find someone to cut your hair. 

CORRECTION:  It's easy to find A SOMEONE to cut your hair, but to find THE SOMEONE who you LOVE to cut your hair, well it's something kin to, say---the quest for the Holy Grail.  It is the quest for...your "hairmate".  Finding your hairmate is an important choice in a woman's life...call me superficial, but your hairmate is as important as who you choose to be your gynecologist or your babysitter or your dentist.  Your hairmate has to be someone you trust.  Surely I am not the only one who feels this way.

We search and we search.  We bravely give ourselves to someone--hoping that he or she is THE ONE, only to have our hopes dashed.  And we pick ourselves up and we wipe our tears and we continue on in our endless quest, dejectedly hopping from one salon to the next.  Emptiness and disappointment ensue.

But then!  Oh JOY!  You find someone, THE ONE, who is your hairmate.  You know when you've found that special someone, because when you sit in their chair and you are completely relaxed, excitedly awaiting the end result.  Now, we all have our horror stories, don't we, ladies??  Once, you came home with a perm-gone-wrong or a He-man short 'do, when you were going for a "Hey man, come hither" 'do.  Or GASP, even worse, you come home with a mullet disaster 'do.  But when you find THE ONE, there are no worries.  You trust them totally and without hesitation to do with you what they will. 

Sadly, when you move across the country, you lose your hairmate.  And tragically, the search begins anew.  The painful search.

Luckily for me, I found my hairmate.  Right here in my new town.  Didn't have to look very far.  And I didn't have to hock the family silver each time I went.  My hairmate, and cheap too!!  It was a dream come true.  Her name was Maggie.  Maggie was great.  Maybe you remember her?  She's the one who cut Emma's hair when she donated it to Locks of Love last fall.  She was adorable and always had me cracking up the whole time she cut my hair.  The last cut she did for me, was my favorite yet.

So, yesterday afternoon, I visit my home salon, to take Emma in for a cut and to my HORRIFIED surprise, I am told that Maggie has "moved on".  MOVED ON!!!  What??!  How could she do this to me??  What did I ever do to her that she should treat me so cruelly??  Take my heart, bleeding from my chest and stomp it on the ground, why don't you?  She was my HAIRMATE for goodness sake!  And now, now, she's just a fading memory.  The worst part is, I didn't even get the chance to day goodbye. 

Call me a drama queen, but, what's a girl to do? 

Jacob loves summer.  He loves all that it means, but most of all, he loves the ocean--swimming, boogie boarding, digging and building in the sand.  I absolutely love watching him at the beach--relaxed, at peace with himself, no pressure.  The sheer joy on his face is priceless.  It is the one place in this world where he is the most happy.

But, it's that time again. 

If you have a school-aged special needs child, maybe you know what time I mean.  The dreaded "back-to-school". 

As we hurtle uncontrollably toward that day...August 21st...I can feel the anxiety creeping in.  I try to hide it and push it away, but it keeps slowly rising in my gut.  Like vomit burning the back of my throat.  Jacob feels it too.  In trying to prepare him for "that time", we've started talking about it.  I've emailed school personnel.  We've purchased his school supplies already.  (Probably will get Emma's today...tax fee weekend and all.) 

He says, "It's going to be the worst year ever."  I say, "You'll be top dog!  Eighth grader.  Ruling middle school!"  He says, "It's going to be awful."  I say, "Give it a chance, buddy.  You never know."

Yes, it's the unknown.  But, for him, it's also the known.

It's knowing that he's going into this year with no friends.  Knowing the self-imposed pressure of doing things perfectly is back with a vengeance.  Oh, it's always there, but worse during the school year.  It's knowing that high school is one year away.  It's knowing that unexpected and painful assault on his auditory system is lurking around every corner.  It's knowing that, as a 13 yr old boy, his body is changing and feeling out of control, which only seems to magnify some of his Asperger's behaviors/sensitivities.  It's knowing you're different and wishing you weren't.

It breaks my heart.  For many reasons.  But mostly because I can't fix it--neither his self-perceptions nor some of the realities.   Oh, we try to prepare him.  We try to encourage him and get him all pumped up.  Ever the optimist, I say, "This is your year, buddy! Go show them all how amazing you are."

I know how awesome he is.  I see him as the fearfully and wonderfully made child of God who has amazing gifts and talents to offer and who has a purpose in this world.  His teachers and most adults who know him, know how awesome he is.  But his peers, well, that's a different story.

Learning to accept who you are--warts and all--in spite of whether you are accepted by others.  Seeing yourself as you were created and intended to be.  It all comes down to that, doesn't it?  It's not something I can make happen for him.  That's why they call it self-acceptance, I suppose.  And I realize that getting to that place is a journey for all of us.  Some get there faster and more easily than others. 

I've heard so many people share about how their children have accepted their differences;  they are proud of their autism.  Proud that it makes them unique, special, not one of the cookie-cutter "normal" kids.  They've come to view it as an asset in their lives.  Truth be told, I always feel a pang of jealousy when I hear that.  Oh, how I hope and pray for that day.  When he realizes this gift he's been given.  When he sees that it's good NOT to be like some of the jerky, jocky, I've-got-to-look-tough teenage boys out there who are trying so desperately to find themselves by making others feel badly about themselves.  Asperger's makes some things harder, sure, but perhaps life would be harder in some other way if he weren't on the autism spectrum.   Everybody's got something, I always say.

I try not to think too much about the future.  Of course, it gets to me sometimes.  I can't worry about things that haven't happened yet.  I can try to guide him down the path of learning to appreciate who he is and steer him toward a future of doing something he loves.  I can get him counseling, therapies and services.  I can encourage him, love him, pray for him and trust God to both take care of him and cover the mistakes I've made. 

And I watch him grow.  Which gives me more joy than you can ever know.

That will have to be enough.

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"For you created my inmost being;
       you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
       your works are wonderful,
       I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
       when I was made in the secret place.
       When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

Your eyes saw my unformed body.
       All the days ordained for me
       were written in your book
       before one of them came to be." ~Psalm 139:13-16 NIV