Miles is a star. We think so anyway. At 5 he is well beyond baby or toddler, and because of his size (over 4 feet) he seems even older than he is. Miles knows how to navigate a conversation with adults. He knows to ask questions and takes an interest in other people. He has opinions as well, because he has learned a lot and knows how things are. He is often bossy and will work a situation to the nth degree to get his way. A little competetive. Last night I said "I love you" He responded "I love you plus infinity, plus bonus, plus the last number" just to be sure. He is happy and healthy and all is well.

update on the boy July 09

Letter to Miles' foster mom -

Attached is a photo of Miles. It doesn't show his height - 38.5 inches or size (close to 40 pounds). It doesn't show his wit or affection or great intellect. It doesn't even show his hair or his toys or dogs. But he is still enough to be in focus and isn't totally goofing off for the camera. So I'll send this along for now and see if we can get a better photo in the near future.

I'm in love. David too. I don't say this lightly, not being the cooing over children type. I still don't adore all children, partly because none of them (as far as I can tell) hold a candle to Miles. It's good to be a parent, to be unwaveringly 100% smitten with your child. He seems to return the sentiment - or is working it well. Either way I go to the Happy Place every time I hear "I love you mommy". Sigh. I'm easy and he has my number and that's good.

He talks a lot. About his day and his observations. He is full of advice on how to drive, what to wear and doesn't have any trouble making lots of decisions. He is very decisive (bossy) …. good thing he is enormously cute, laughs a lot and is generally flexible when he doesn't get his way.

He approaches new situations with gusto, as we learned when we took him to Manhattan last month. A walk around the block (fire trucks, taxis, dogs!!!) was hugely entertaining. All of this comes with a mountain of charm. Back home I'm the quiet mom behind the kid who is chatting up the customers in our local pizzeria. He knows all the staff by name and will order his own food. He owns the place.

Ok - I could go on. Just wanted you to know that he is exactly the child for us. That it isn't just having a family that makes this wonderful, it is knowing him, the person he is and is becoming.

Thanks - for everything.

Janet

Vic died on Wednesday. Though we had been expecting his death for years it was still shocking how quickly he changed from shuffling around giving my mom a hard time (on Friday) to incoherent and bedridden.
The trip was great, Miles took on every new experience with gusto - and regaled a bus full of New Yorkers with his delightful version of the Alphabet song - choreographed with the crossing of his arms for the letter X and unfortunately the letter S.

My car needs a new tire - which means we buy 4 new tires. :( I think the frowning face just sort of sums up that aspect of the luxury car ownership. You play - you pay.
Careening back into my life here after 6 days of hectic fun provided a small burst of culture shock. Work is dull and annoying, but not hell - and so I'm glad. My world is, at the moment, cool and quiet. Mom arrives soon to help me salvage what cherries are left on the tree. She is doing fine - but is faced with the task of reinventing herself, which is a little daunting. Meanwhile, the romance books are beginning to bother me, the contrivance is becoming too obvious, and worse yet, I'm feeling let down that I'm not young rich and beautiful (and having 4 orgasms a night). So I'm reading this month's Atlantic. Is it too late for me to try to be brilliant? Maybe not - but I need a topic and now!
So I just wrote the Subject line - trying to form my thoughts and not ramble - and I am stuck on the mundanity of death. It is thoroughly unpleasant, and was sad and uncomfortable. On my own behalf I am sad that he died in my beloved living room - the death rattle escalating through the hours in the rooms of my lovely house (I am so fond of that house on Claremont). I was horrified for my mother. There were no tears though. I felt far more at the passing (I'm embracing the euphemism) of my cherished pets. I still miss Kirby. And, though I think I know better, I worry that Mom and I are more hardened to death. There is no profound sense of loss, no agony over the unknown or known parts of being and not being. Vic is gone - and Mom lives.
SO I will ramble. And perhaps you will read this all. I wonder at the feeling. The great feelings of love and loss that I currently don't have access to. Does make me wonder if this is just another part of my aging process. I'm looking fro my car keys and my passion.

So Miles is totally the funniest kid on the planet. Last night we were on a search for the missing Croc.Dad joined the search and asked Miles - Where is your other Croc. Miles replied - (elbows bent and down, hands open palms up) - "I just don't know!!!" But he search - "Not under the couch!" "Not in the bathroom!" He had a running commentary - until I found it (behind the bedroom door) and he went on a victory lap around the house, the croc held high.

I just finished reading the latest installment of a series of essays on grief. Slate.com - Meghan O'Rourke. Grief. I'm into the happy stuff, don't want to read about evil dictators, twitter, corporate failure, car accidents.... it goes on. There are a lot of things I won't read about.

So why was I (or anyone) willing to spend so much time on the brink of tears?

First thought, a shout out to the intellectual, this is the appreciation of wonderful writing. I'll often give things a look, briefly, if I like the construction of the sentences, the lovely flow of images. But I don't finish them. I have a book on my nightstand about a child dying of...something, that I can't even start (for years now), that I am told is really very good.

And the personal connection. Well, hell. That's the secret we want to believe we have just exposed. Grief, loss, strong emotions, and....personal, and suddenly it is mine, my grief, my suffering. And my hackles are raised - because it isn't my loss. It's hers. The author, Ms. O'Rourke has laid her experience and raw emotions out there - on the internet. She has also done some wonderful analysis, scientific and poetic. So I understand better, and know that there is just feeling.The thrill of romance, and the pain of loss is part of the grasping at strong connections.

Yet there is the shame of voyeurism and most horribly, of appropriating someone else's pain. It reminds of the (admittedly cheap) thrill of the romance novel.

One thing leads to another. I have Pandora on for background music here at work - and hear I'm Alive (Jackson Browne). So I whip out the IPod for the rest of the album. Catchy beats, sweet melodies and the saddest lyrics ever.

More about the weather - while it is still so lovely. I must put into words the green green grass, the coolness, the pale daffodils and pink azaelias. The fruit trees, all sticks of branches covered in frothy light whites and pinks. The tulip tree (saucer magnolia) is alive with flowers as the camelia is just nodding off for the season.
There are warm warm afternoons and cool evenings. Butterflys but no wasps. I said it was perfect didn't I?