Vindauga

Happy Halloween

My kid's favorite werewolf song, from the excitable boy himself.

">

Heavy But Stupid

That will be the theme of my attempt at NaBloPoMo. Delightful phrase courtesy of Figlet. I kind of liked posting every day last year. However, it seems I need outside reinforcement to make me do it. I can't just post every day on my own.

So expect kid tales, tales from the kids (I will be in Portland for four days and figure Mal and Rory can take over the blog for a day or two), maybe some movie stuff, adoption stuff perhaps, my own LOL Cats, and whatever else I can scrape the bottom of the barrel about. I will take requests and questions. Anything you want to know or want me to write more about?

So far I've thought about the ways the internet is great (assuring me Mal's rash is not deadly staph) and weird (letting me see a picture of my high school boyfriend in his 43 year old state).  Googling names seems so much more civilized than driving passed his house over and over. Or creepy.

That's it, right now. Okay maybe light and stupid.

See They Don't Just Get It From Me

In the car on the way home from our traditional Sunday dinner- Mexican food. They have deals on Sundays, no one has to cook or clean up, it's a win-win all around.

Lin (9 year old): What's a bisexual?

Bert: It means you have sex twice a year.

Mal: Yeah, like married people.

Rory: Do the same thing I do, look in the sex book. These people will never tell you the truth. 

Because every adoptee should have the right to know the same things my children know...

...where they came from, who they are, their medical history.

Vote on You Tube for this video in the "Thick as Thieves" contest. If it gets the most votes it will air on MTV! This would be some great exposure for open records laws. Work towards ethical adoption in this easy, easy way.

Good song, great video. Found via Dawn.

Girl's Got Game

I have always been amazed at my children's ability to participate in athletic activities. I take no credit, this wasn't parenting. Little was done on my part besides saying "okay" and some signing up and writing a check or six.

My memories of stretching myself in sports, replay like bad PE skits on Saturday Night Live. Literally the last person chosen, even after the legally blind girl (really)and the one so heavy that she could not climb more than two stairs when we ran them in the gym. "Coordination" was not a gift bestowed on my cradle. Once when playing volleyball in PE class, I got a serve over the net. This act was so unprecedented that BOTH teams clapped and cheered. When playing that hideous, lions and Christians like game (and I was always a Christian)-dodge ball, my wrist got broken. The teacher thought I was faking it to get out of class, because I was usually offering lame excuses to get out of class.  Me and team sports? Not so much. Bert has similar tales that could make you wake up in a cold sweat dreaming of smelly locker rooms and unsympathetic coaches.

So when the kids want to sign up for soccer, t-ball, basket ball and tennis, I marvel. Usually you can tell they are my kids. They're afraid of the ball, they drop it, they don't pay attention. But the prod on, often signing up for a second or sometimes even third go.

I blame all this positive reinforcement they are getting in school. Or maybe their own little spirits and can-do attitudes.

Right now Lin is giving basketball a third try. It's been two years since her last effort. I figured, hoped maybe she had found her "sports legs" by now. Bert went to practice with her tonight and was raving about what a great coach our friend Jim was and how much he was teaching the kids. I asked if Lin had picked up some new techniques.

Bert said "She has all the athletic ability our genes have bestowed on her."

Poor kid.