Sunday, August 18, 2013

Back at Home

Well we are finally back home. At first I was relieved to be out of the suitcases. But, then we Got unpacked and then we were lonely. After a couple of days we figured out how to get along with only each other again and got it.

This last week Master I had basketball camp. He loved it. There were competitions all week for the kids's shooting skills.  There were three areas:  hotshot (how many shots you can make from different areas on the court in a minute,  a lay up competition, and a free throw competition.  Master I was in the top three each competition. By the end of the week he won the hotshot competition. He was thrilled and got a special award.

Master I was also the only boy in camp to win to a shooting game. The game was called "Go For It." Only a couple of the children were chosen each day to try win.   Isaiah was chosen on Friday. The player was given a chance to make a shot relatively close to the basket.  If they made the shot then they won a candy.  If they wanted to "go for it" they would take another shot farther away from the basket. If they won that they would get a Gatorade. If they lost it they would lose the candy bar as well.  Then the child needed to decide if they wanted to risk in again by taking the farthest shot in hopes to to get a Swarthmore College practice jersey in addition to the candy and drink or risk loosing what they won.  Master I was the only child to win all 3 items that week. When he won the game the coach put him on top of his shoulders and ran him around the gym. All the kids were cheering.  It made him feel really special.  He told me that he didn't think he would have that experience until he won in college or the NBA.

Miss R continues to feel really grateful for everyday life.  Every prayer that she says in the same.  She thanks God that we are all back together again after a summer apart. She'll say, "Dear Heavenly Father, I am really glad we are all here together.  Amen."   It  was very hard on her to be away from her Daddy. However, she has cried the past two days for her Monet.  It is hard for Miss R to be away from people that she loves.

One morning this week I went to wake-up Miss R and she groggily told me it was her birthday.  This is one of her idiosyncrasies. She will declare that it is her birthday on random days, will remind me that it is her birthday all day long, and she'll insist that she is five.  I asked her last week how many birthdays she has a year.  "Twenty." she said.  I figure that is about right.  The funny thing was that a friend was cleaning out her toy room and gave us a huge toy kitchen complete with play food and dishes.  She also gave Miss R many lovely Disney princess dresses.  When I put her to bed that night I told her, "It really was a birthday today!"

Twister is back to his twisting ways.  He is climbing on things, tearing apart the couch, constantly trying to wrestle me or the kids,  jumping off of things etc.  He was so much easier this summer when he had a pool in the back yard, a big home to tear through, and lots of friends to distract him.  But, don't get me wrong.  That boy is so darn enjoyable to me that I can't get enough of him.  He is so playful and happy.  I adore him.  Just watching him brings me happiness.

Mark got back from a great interview in Fort Worth, Texas.  I am thrilled about this job prospect for him.  It is precisely the type of job he has been wanting and that I desired that he would have.  The down side is the Yosemite valley isn't right around the corner for him to sneak off to and have his John Muir moments.  I have so longed for him to have that.  I also hoped for a job were our parents could drive  to see Master I play basketball or were we could enjoy a Sunday evening chat after dinner.   That is a gift that I would have loved to give to my children and to my parents.  Maybe we can still have it all somehow.  I am still trying to figure it all out.  But, in the meanwhile, I am grateful that Mark is no longer asking me (sincerely) what I would think about moving to Qatar.

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