The Scents of Spring

Following an off-putting pattern of using a photo unrelated to the post, this was taken last week at the Daisy Girl Scouts attending the UGA Gymnastics event. Monica and Dewayne had taken Sabrina and Mayra along with Kortney and Tabby.

Maybe his meds kicked in or something, but Jonathan got it together and made it to church yesterday. JoJo stepped up to cause the morning's problem one minute before blast-off, "Was I supposed to take a shower?"

Ya think?

"Just get in the van," I didn't have time to wait, seems as if it were just a trigger I apparently sidestepped, no blow-up other than "You could have at least warned me," as if our routine ever varies? Ill-tempered and discombobulated, JoJo shuffled out the door, grabbing a collared shirt off the hanger, at least remembering one of my dumb rules.

The only way I had any peace in church was Edgar showing up and sitting slam between the two who want to have fist fights, contrarily they were perfect angels. A man sitting behind us, he has known me for nigh on to 30 years whispered to me, "You really are an inspiration, you know that?"

I was too surprised to respond. They, my little wild darlings, were behaving relatively decently for once, and maybe because I hadn't had to holler in the sanctuary we'd fooled this guy? I'd only recently learned, after all these years, that two of his four kids were adopted. Now they're nearly as old as I am.

Edgar came home with us after church, no doubt craving Mama's pinto beans as he ate them for lunch and later for supper, burritos then tacos, doused with way more fire hot pepper sauce than I can handle. He helped my other sons finish our clearing out project, played soccer in the meadow later to the delight of the kids, leaving after dark with JoJo hopefully suggesting, "You can sleep here with me?"

Super parentified at one time by his six younger siblings, Edgar's needed to stretch his wings, go out into the world, but JoJo, the baby, has been devastated this entire year, acting out as only the abandoned child of a parentified sibling can act. Allen faltered for awhile, still struggles in school, but is greatly improved here with me. I have a mid-morning meeting regarding his academic non-performances today, a high of 70 degrees, wonder if everyone will agree to meet outside and bask in the sun?

I doubt it.

I'm so massively happy to have retired from the school system. It was mornings like this that used to scrape my nerves raw, being forced inside while the sun shines without me. The honeysuckle is greening up, when it blooms I nearly swoon with joy, but it comes after the wisteria that puts on such a remarkable display.

Who doesn't feel such a sense of joy watching nature explode all around?

My pure happiness is tempered by a recent event. Helen, from an email group of large adoptive families, let me know of a phenomenally sad event. Pam Cone passed away at a very young age, early 50s, a single mom leaving behind a dozen children. She'd emailed me often since I started blogging several years ago and I'm terribly sad at her passing on, great is her reward in Heaven, but I despair for her children left behind.

I've met, and spent a great deal of time online, with a core group of women from that original list, and it's amazing how well we've all come to know each other, I can't even do the math, but it's been since the early 90s I believe.

Our local five day forecast includes warm, sunny weather with a 'winter break' coming up, a four day weekend for my kids from school.