Weekend Snapshots 37

This was the weekend I became my mother.

Friday

I made the classic rookie mistake. I didn’t check for toilet paper before choosing a bathroom stall and doing my business. Where there should have been two industrial-sized rolls of toilet paper – there was jack squat. I sat there for a few long moments contemplating the unsavory options before me. I was saved when I suddenly remembered the extra, unused napkins I had stashed in my capacious bag when I took the kids out for lunch last weekend. They had snickered when they saw me doing it, just as I used to snicker whenever my mom would put extra napkins, ketchup packets, etc. into her bag.

“Just like Grandma,” they said shaking their heads.

Later that day I was driving my daughter home from a playdate when I spotted some adorable daisies – weeds, really – growing along the side of the road. Daisies always remind me of my mother. They are one of her favorite flowers.  She carried them in her wedding bouquet and they had a special place in her flower garden.

I stopped the car and yanked a bunch out to plant in my own garden:

My daughter was shrieking with laughter when I got back into the minivan clutching my daisies with clods of dirt falling from their roots: “You’re becoming just like Grandma!”

The first time my mother visited us when we moved to Charlottesville, we took her for a tour of the campus, (“Grounds”).  We stopped to admire a hedge of wild roses that had been planted by the building where my husband’s office was located. My mother methodically picked rose hips off the bushes.

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I looked uneasily about to see if anyone was witnessing the plundering of the rosebushes.

“Here!” she said, handing them to me, “Try planting these in your garden. If any come up, give me some!”

Later we walked along the Downtown Mall. At each of the large black planters placed at intervals along the pedestrian walkway she would stop to admire the lush flowers. Whenever she spotted flowers that had gone to seed, she would casually pull them off.

I shrank with embarrassment, but she handed them to me saying, “These will look beautiful in your garden!”

It’s been raining for weeks now. Every morning as I drive to work I think about all the things I’m going to do in my garden the minute I get home. Some days I don’t even bother changing out of my work clothes. I just throw on a pair of garden gloves and rush outside to the garden. I’ve found myself outside in the rain almost every day, sometimes in the pitch black, sometimes dodging lightning bolts…I remember watching my mother do this when I was a child.

“MOM! You’re getting soaked! Come in!” I’d say.

“It’s the best time to plant,” she’d reply, waving me away with her gloved hand.

Saturday

All the kids’ soccer games were rained out, so we spent the day running errands. We had left a bunch of paint cans for the people who are buying our house, thinking they might like to have them for future touch ups. After the home inspection they asked us to remove them, so I dropped by our old house with my daughter and her friend to gather them up. My heart sank when I heard a crash.

“Uh-oh!” I heard my daughter say, “Mommy?”

I ran upstairs to discover that she had dropped one of the paint cans on the kitchen floor. The paint was oozing all over the tile. After a major freak out, I remembered there was a roll of paper towels in the garage. My elation turned to despair when I realized there were only two sheets left on the roll.

“Now what am I going to do?!” I groaned out loud.

My daughter piped up, “Don’t worry, Mom! You have a million napkins in your bag!” And so I did!

Sunday

My son’s piano recital.

 

He was the final performer, so I had a couple hours of high anxiety until it was his turn at last. I’ve listened to him play his two pieces over and over for months. He had never gotten to the point where he was able to play through the pieces flawlessly every single time. I’m glad to report that he played them beautifully.

We went to Crozet Pizza, a Charlottesville landmark, to celebrate:

When we got home at last, my sweet daughter put her arm around me and said, “You should go have a nap now, Mommy, so you can be rested up for your fun night with your friends in Staunton.” (More on that later).

“Now who’s being just like Grandma?” I thought as I gave her a big hug.

 

 

 

My Big Sis

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One day my oldest sister and I were discussing our middle sister, Annabelle.

“Annabelle never does things the normal way,” she said.

“When we moved from Texas to Korea and had to go to school and didn’t speak a word of Korean, I threw temper tantrums every day, because I was so miserable and mad at Mom and Dad for dragging us there. Annabelle was immediately voted class president.”

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Annabelle is on the right, wearing her special class president’s badge.

“Instead of just going to any old college, she went to MIT, and made straight As, and then while she was at it, she threw in a masters degree to boot!”

“Instead of just becoming an engineer, she designed a revolutionary, industry-changing water filtration method.”

“Instead of just having one baby, she had THREE at a time!”

C'mon boyz

On that note, my very traditional Korean dad once told me, “Well, Adrienne, I used to think you were the lucky one, because you have two boys…but now Annabelle has you beat.” Not only does my sister have a beautiful, brilliant, and accomplished daughter, she has triplet boys. For Koreans, that’s like winning the Mega Millions lottery three times.

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Somehow during those sleepless years when she was designing water plants and raising her family, my amazing big sis also wrote a novel.

As you would expect, it’s not just any ordinary book. Tiger Pelt received a starred review from Kirkus Reviews and has been named as one of the Best Books of 2015. Alexander Theroux writes:

A passionate, absorbing novel, Annabelle Kim’s Tiger Pelt with its South Korean backdrop is a seismic tremor of a book. Kim who is a writer with bold insights fixes on two interwoven lives with humane irony, antic imagination, and an unsettling perceptiveness that includes much fascinating lore about that country and her wounded but ultimately triumphant fictional creations. It is a stark, often unsparing book.

One seasoned editor has called it “Pulitzer-worthy.” I’ve read the book from cover to cover at least three times now. Every single time it makes me laugh and weep. The story knocks the wind out of you; the book’s moments of poetry leave you breathless. I promise you that Tiger Pelt is not just any old book. My big sis wrote it after all!

Tiger Pelt is coming out this Monday and is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

 

Pentecost

IMG_5633We had to scramble a bit to make sure everyone had something red to wear, as we were instructed to do, for Pentecost Sunday.

“What is Pentecost?” my daughter asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied as I pulled out a red skirt from my closet for her to try on. I’ve grown up going to church all my life and have never once celebrated Pentecost.

A quick internet search set me straight. In case you don’t know what Pentecost is either…Pentecost means “50,” because it’s the 50th day, or seventh Sunday after Easter. On this day a sudden rush of winds filled the house where followers of Christ were gathered together. The Holy Spirit appeared to the apostles in tongues of flame (hence the red), and everyone began speaking in different languages. The apostle Peter preached his first sermon to those who were gathered, and so this day is celebrated as the birthday of the Christian church.

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Musical Saturday

My son opened and closed his recital with Bach’s Prelude in C Major and Kern’s All the Things You Are…

IMG_9346IMG_9351IMG_9355IMG_5606A couple hours later we headed to another special concert. It was the 25th Anniversary Concert for a group from Charlottesville…

But unlike the rest of Charlottesville, who were at John Paul Jones Arena for the Dave Matthews Band’s 25th Anniversary Concert, we were at St. Paul’s Memorial to hear my husband sing in Zephyrus‘ 25th Anniversary Concert!

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Motherlode

IMG_1898Have you seen the news about the woman who just won her second lottery in three months? The two wins add up to $1,250,000. The odds of something like this happening are staggeringly slim. Incredibly lucky? Yes. But the main reason her story has made the news is that the money is going to help her pay for ongoing breast cancer treatment.

I once went to an art fair with my roommate when I had just started graduate school. As we entered, we were asked to fill out an entry for door prizes. I carelessly filled out my form, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I would never win. I’ve never once in my life won such a thing.

I was astonished to hear my roommate say, “I’ll probably win this.” At that time I’d only known her a few weeks. I thought she might be delusional. “My family always wins these kinds of things,” she said. She went on to list all the things they had won over the years: money, a car, a television, a refrigerator. Sure enough – hours later the phone rang at our apartment. She had won the grand prize.

I’ve always thought that people have different kinds of luck. My prize-winning roommate is one example. The un/lucky lottery-winning cancer patient is another case in point. As for me, I know I’ll never win a door prize, sweepstakes, or lottery. My luck has always been with my family; and the beating heart and soul of my family is my mother. Her love, strength, and character inspire me. It’s an improbable jackpot I hit every single day.

Posts about my mother:

Lessons from My Mama, Pt. 1

Lessons from My Mama, Pt. 2

My Mama, the Drama Queen

The Sound of Music

Golden

How my Mom Got a Patient Sprung from St. Elizabeth’s

63 Bowls of Seaweed Soup

Lost and Found

This is my mother…

Migration

 

 

Weekend Project

This boy decided that we needed…IMG_9311…a putting green in the backyard!

He and his dad got to work with the lawnmower.

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Goddess of Wisdom

It was a particularly rough morning with my 16 year old son.

As I drove my 10 year old to school, I muttered despairingly…

“I just don’t understand WHY he’s so crabby!”

From the backseat I heard my daughter say, “It’s hormones and Monday, Mom. Hormones and Monday.”

Flying through the air with the greatest unease

It’s not every day that you get to try out something you’ve only ever seen performed at a circus! When I assembled the kids on the couch to announce that my sister had arranged for them to have a trapeze lesson over their spring break, this was their reaction:

Why is Auntie Sissy so awesome?!” my son exclaimed in wonder.

I don’t know if I’m more scared or excited,” my daughter said.

As we drove to the venue, I confirmed to my sister that I had gone online to fill out the requisite forms.

Do you mean liability forms?” my son asked from the backseat.

Mmmhmmm” I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

The Trapeze School New York in Washington DC is in a hangar-like building, right across from Nationals Park and the Navy Yard Metro.

The kids got strapped into their super tight – forget about breathing – organ-crushing belts.

After some brief instructions, they chalked their hands and got ready to climb an extremely tall ladder:

In the video of my 13 year old’s first try on the trapeze, you can hear the teacher instructing him to jump on “hep.” He can’t quite bring himself to actually jump off the platform the first time, so the teacher gently repeats the command.

The boy never did get his knees over the bar, but days later I discovered that he had done something far more remarkable.

We were reminiscing about his amazing trapeze adventure when I asked my son,”Was there ever a time during the lesson when you thought – Nah, this is way too scary. I’m not going to jump.”

“Yeah!” he replied.

“But just the first time, right?” I asked.

“No. Every single time I got up to the platform, I seriously thought about not jumping and just climbing back down the ladder.”

I’ve always told my kids that you can’t be brave without being scared. If the level of fear they felt is commensurate with their level of bravery – I think they should all be draped and festooned with medals right now! I had no idea that he was so scared…I was so proud of him for climbing that ladder and taking that enormous leap of faith over and over again.

Speaking of scared, you might be wondering where my 10 year old daughter was while all of this was happening. She was lying on the ground – with the saddest look on her face. Kind of like the fish we had seen in the aquarium the day before:

For the first hour, you could see that she was at war with herself. She couldn’t bring herself to give it a try and was getting more and more upset as her brothers took their turns. Finally, one of the instructors came over and said that doing the trapeze is all about gaining a sense of accomplishment by pushing through fear. He suggested that her goal for the day could simply be to climb the ladder.

She pondered this, but was intimidated by the thought of taking even that step. One kind lady, a trapeze veteran, walked over and offered to climb up right behind her to spot her from behind. She kept resolving to try it, but would change her mind the next second. We kept reassuring her that she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to, but finally, she decided to go for it! We whooped and cheered for her when she made it to the top of the ladder! We could hardly wait for her to climb back down to give her a congratulatory hug… We were surprised to see that the instructor at the top was rehooking her harnesses.

And then this happened:

When she got back down, I asked her why she had decided to go for the swing.

“I think the instructor at the top didn’t realize I was just going to climb the ladder. She just assumed I was going to jump. So I did.”

Flush with the thrill of her accomplishment, we all asked her, “Do you want to go again?!”

“No.”

And I could totally respect that!

Baltimore in 2 days with 3 kids, Pt. 2

It was this kid’s 16th birthday!

We got tickets to the National Aquarium for 9 am…just in time to see the sharks eat their breakfast of fish and squid…They’re kept well-fed so they don’t eat their smaller tank mates:

This giant sea turtle was a rescue. He had to be amputated because of an infection, but he’s doing just fine now.

My favorites were the Jellyfish:

We got a couple of little bitty shrimp at the gift shop for my birthday boy:

We did a quick stroll through the Baltimore Civil War museum, which happens to be right across the street from our hotel. It’s located in what used to be the President Street Station…

And then we walked to Miss Shirley’s for lunch. It was worth the longish wait:

We were excited to take a ride on the Chessie boats:

…but sadly, they were not running.

We took a water taxi instead. It’s a great deal at $14 for unlimited rides all day.

It turned out to be a relaxing way to get great views of the Harbor.

We hopped off to go to the American Visionary Arts Museum, a place I’ve been wanting to visit for years. The description of “visionary art” is a bit vague – “art produced by self-taught individuals, usually without formal training, whose works arise from an innate personal vision that revels foremost in the creative act itself.” Although it was not always the case, in many instances the art was created by people who were mentally ill.

You can’t even imagine how sad I was not to be able to take pictures inside the museum! It is filled with extraordinary art. It also has a spectacular museum shop.

Word to the wise: It was only after we were taking the water taxi back to our hotel for dinner that I realized the booklet we were given when we bought our tickets was full of coupons, some of which we could have used for a lower entrance fee at the museum.

After dinner we went for another walk along the water. We strolled to Fell’s Point, an historic neighborhood with bars, restaurants and boutiques.

By this time, my daughter was flagging and wanted to get back to the hotel. We thought we’d take a short cut back, and blundered into a not so nice neighborhood. Once we hustled our way out of there, we decided to make one last stop at The Power Plant to visit the enormous Barnes & Noble café:

Back at the hotel, we watched another movie and then hit the hay.

And that was Day 2 of our Baltimore Adventure. We were sad to be leaving Baltimore, but excited about the amazing adventure my sister had planned for the kids in Washington DC the next day…