Look who we picked up at the airport today!
They’re baaaaaaack!
Look who we picked up at the airport today!
Look who we picked up at the airport today!
My son’s early soccer days…
And at last weekend’s “Sunburn Tournament”…
Sunburn Tournament champs!
My daughter’s very first day of soccer
Guest playing for tournaments for the last two weeks in a row, in Richmond:
And at the Sunburn Tournament for her age bracket:
I didn’t get any medals myself, but I think we can all agree that I am the true winner of the Sunburn Tournament:

OUCH!
This morning we (finally) signed the papers to buy our house!
We hope to host family and friends here for many years to come.
(PLEASE! Let’s not move for AT LEAST another twenty years, my husband begged).

Our house has been referred to as The Old Rectory in real estate documents we’ve seen, because it was originally built in 1920 for the minister of the Presbyterian church around the corner from us.
One day my kids discovered another name on an old sign hidden behind some foliage:
This fall we discovered why it’s called Leaf Land:

Leaf Land it is!
The other momentous occasion that happened today was my son’s graduation from middle school. I thought for sure we were going to miss it, but our attorney was able to meet with us earlier than expected. We raced over to the school straight from his office, expecting only to see our son waiting for us in front of the school. Miraculously, we arrived just moments before they started calling out the names of all the graduates!
I can still hear the wistful tone in my dad’s voice as he held my oldest son in his arms for the first time. You’re not going to believe it now, he said, but in the blink of an eye he’ll be grown and out of the house and you won’t even know how it happened.
Every single day I feel like it’s all going much, much too fast.
I swear to you this happened a few months ago:

Preschool
And this? This was yesterday:

First day of elementary school


Slow it down a little, please!
Preschool Graduation
First Day of Elementary School




Elementary School Graduation
We’d been preparing for my daughter’s graduation for months. As I drove her to school, we would discuss the particulars: what she should wear, the fact that she should – for this very special occasion – actually comb her hair, etc. Most importantly, I apologized to her in advance for the fact that there would be ugly crying. I explained to her that it simply couldn’t be helped. She would have to avert her gaze and pretend that her mother was not disgracing herself in the audience with racking sobs and snot streaming out of her bright red nose.
Nothing went as planned. The dress I thought she would wear was too small for her. I pulled a dress out of my own closet and it fit her perfectly. She put on a pair of my ballet flats and they fit perfectly too. When we stood back to back, I realized she had snuck past me. My ten year old daughter is now about an inch taller than me.



It was only a week before her graduation when I realized I would not be able to be there. I broke the news to her in the car as I drove her to school one morning.
I’m so sorry, I’ve got some really sad news. I just realized that I’m going to have to miss your graduation because of my conference in Denver, and I’m absolutely devastated!
I never realized until that very moment that it’s actually possible to hear and feel someone grinning from the back seat.
My husband texted me photos of the graduation as it was happening. I stood transfixed in the middle of a busy Expo Hall as the photos came through one by one. People rushed around me, politely averting their gaze, as I stood there staring at my phone with big fat tears streaming down my face.

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, during which time I: helped chaperone a trip to Virginia Beach for my daughter’s 5th grade class, ferried her to two soccer tournaments, ferried my son to his soccer tournament, got him packed up for a two-week program at NYU, sold our old house, went to a work conference in Denver, cried in the middle of the Expo Hall as my husband texted me photos of my daughter’s elementary school graduation in real time, helped pick out the winning (two) covers for my sister’s upcoming novel, and almost died returning back to Charlottesville.
To get back in the swing of things, here are a few photos from the trip to Virginia Beach, the annual field trip for the fifth graders right before they graduate…kind of a baby version of Beach Week for graduating high schoolers and college students.

Learning about whelks at the Virginia Living Museum in Newport News
See that long, wavy thing that vaguely looks like a pasta noodle? I learned that each segment at one time contained a baby whelk in the making!


There she goes! Leaping into new adventures…
Everyone had breakfast at the Golden Corral, where I witnessed another freaky sight:

Deep fried bacon!
Next stop: the Virginia Aquarium:

Hello!
The octopus was working on opening a prescription pill container:


This is what happened when I asked the girls to pose for a photo…
The highlight of the day was the Dolphin Discovery boat ride:
Mama dolphins and their days old babies came up to our boat to check US out and say hello!

This was the weekend I became my mother.
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.

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.
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!
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.

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.”

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!”

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.

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.