Decompressing

I need to start with a funny story because the rest of this post is going to be verbal catharticism (is that a word?)...

The family was discussing the Spurs trade at dinner. For some idiotic reason the Spurs have traded Brent Barry and Francisco Elson to the Supersonics for some really old guy and a 2009 Draft Pick. I won't go into detail with my frustrations over this event, but suffice it to say that I think the Spurs have made a huge mistake. We already have the oldest team in the league, and while I believe in experience, I am doubtful that bringing in a defender who is my age is a brilliant move. Then again, what do I know? Maybe Kurt Thomas's height will be the answer to keeping the opponents' scores down.

At any rate, toward the end of dinner David gave his summary: "Mommy, your boyfriend is on the Supersonics because he's supersonic fast." Kevin and I couldn't stop laughing at his 4-year-old assessment of basketball and relationships in general. Not only do I have a new boyfriend, but he's 6-foot-7 and makes hilarious HEB commercials. Lucky me.

And now for something completely different:

David and I were checking out at Old Navy today when we witnessed a horrible accident. The woman in front of us in line had a toddler son and an adorable baby girl in an infant carrier. The baby was all smiles and I was having fun making faces at her. The mom finished up, opened the front door to leave, and then started screaming hysterically as she watched her two-year-old dart into the parking lot right into the path of an oncoming car. I watched with horror as the boy struck the front side of the moving car, which kept moving, ricocheting the boy onto the asphalt. He was trying to get up when his mom reached him and scooped him up. I ran outside and moved her baby carrier back into the store and told the employees to call 911. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, although the boy wasn't bleeding and appeared to be more terrified than hurt. I think the mom needed checking out more than her son -- she was hysterically crying and shaking. Who wouldn't be? I started crying, too, and David looked at me quizzically since he didn't quite know what was going on. After the family went inside the ambulance to get examined, David and I had a long talk about why Mommy is always telling him not to run in parking lots and to always hold Mommy's hand. And you better believe that I'll be even more vigilant about it now.

I wish I'd thought to ask the mom's name, but God knew who I was talking about as I prayed for her while waiting for the ambulance to come. Still, I would have liked to be able to call her tomorrow and follow up.

Two years ago I took all three kids with me to California... on a plane... by myself. We were wandering through the airport when we saw another mom who had her toddler on one of those kiddie leashes. I overheard a couple (who obviously didn't have any children) talk about how horrible it was to put your kid on a leash. I didn't speak up but I wanted to tell that couple that some kids, especially two-year-olds, really do need leashes. It's not about bad parenting, it's about the safety of the child. And I know the mom today was wishing she'd had her son on a leash or in a stroller. But accidents happen, and I'm just so grateful that today's wasn't any worse.

Uganda David

We just got our packet from Compassion, and this is a picture of David, a 6-year-old boy in Uganda. Isn't his smile just adorable? I was only on the Compassion website about 10 minutes before I spotted David and knew that he was going to be our newest family member. Of course, my son's name is David so our Compassion child will be called Uganda David, I suppose. He's the youngest of 7 children and his parents work odd-jobs to try and eke out a living. It's amazing that both his parents are alive in such an AIDS afflicted area where many children are either orphans or living with just one parent or extended family. I'm praying for you, Uganda David, and can't wait to meet you in this life or in heaven. Your smile brings me great joy.

I've never been to Uganda, but I've had a heart for the Ugandan people for several years ever since the Mwangaza Children's Choir came to San Antonio and spent several joyful weeks at our church. The Ugandan children were so loving, respectful, gracious, mild -- on many occasions I wished American children were more like them. The irony is that American children "have it all" and the Ugandan children live in extreme poverty. Yet the Ugandan children have more pure joy than my own kids. Funny how abundance depletes joy rather than adds to it.

I paid for a whole year's of sponsorship out of my savings from last year's income. I wrote a few articles and did some random editing jobs last year, and all that money was just sitting in my bank account doing nothing. I've saved up money before to buy a piano and later to pay for my Lasik, but there really isn't anything I want to save my money for right now. I took some of it and chose a Compassion child and you know what? I've still got a lot more money just sitting there. Doing nothing. And right now I'm thinking I could sponsor a couple more Ugandan children without even feeling sacrificial. Because really, do I need another pair of shoes when I could pay for a month's worth of food and care for a little child? Yeah, that's what I think, too.

I've included a link that will take you right to the Compassion sponsorship site, where you can look at all those adorable faces and choose to extend your family, too. I promise you'll never miss that pair of shoes or Starbucks latte or whatever else we easily blow $40 a month on. If you want to read some more perspectives on Uganda, I highly recommend reading Shannon's blog and BooMama's blog. You might to grab a tissue before reading BooMama's.

I Can't Top a Bagoogle.

While tucking in David at bedtime tonight:

D: I love you one hundred.
Me: Well, I love you one hundred five.
D: I love you one hundred ninety.
Me: I love you one million b'jillion.
D: I love you one hundred bagoogle.
Me: That's a lot of love.

Quirky Meme

My buddy Megan (who plays a mean game of Scrabulous) tagged me several weeks ago and I'm just now getting around to responding.

Six random non-important quirks about me:

1. I'm a horrible procrastinator. (See intro paragraph above.)
2. I have a fear of birds. They are flappy and unpredictable and, in my mind, quite dirty.
3. Unless you count intramural bowling in college, I have never once played on an organized sports team.
4. As a result of my self-protective tendencies, I have never broken a bone. (Until I met Kevin, that is, who accidentally broke one of my toes on our honeymoon and then later broke my nose while opening a car door for me. He still denies both bones were actually broken, but I heard definite snapping and felt definite lingering pain.)
5. I currently own 72 pairs of shoes. (Ten pairs of boots of various colors/heights, 7 pairs of athletic shoes, and 55 pairs of flats, pumps, flip flops, wedges, etc.) I'm rather embarrassed by that fact. I do NOT own a pair of Crocs and never will. I wear a size 11, so I get pretty excited when I find a pair of cute shoes in my size on sale. It's a sickness, I tell you.
6. I don't like the words panties, ointment, bougainvillea, booty, or fluffernutter. Especially when they're all used in the same sentence.

We Have A Winner!

My Bloggy Giveaway has closed and the random number generator picked 136, which was Cassia. Congrats!