If she had the proper words to say,

A.J. has a classmate named Jordan. Jordan was in his 6th grade class last year, and this year, they are in a few classes together in middle school. However, their lockers are side-by-side, so he and A.J. would briefly chat between classes while getting their things.

A little over a month ago, Jordan dropped his book one morning while switching classes. A.J. noticed, and after a few seconds, he offered to grab it. Jordan snapped at him, "Leave it alone. Leave me alone!" A.J. didn't understand what he had done, and his feelings were hurt. He left for the next class, however. Jordan was still standing in the hallway alone...

The next day, after first period, Jordan dropped his book again. This time, he bent to pick it up, then yelled, "I can't move up!" A.J. reached for his arm to help him, but again Jordan lashed out. Instantly, the geography teacher was at the lockers, and she thanked A.J. and ushered him into her classroom, telling him the principal would help Jordan.

The next morning, at the start of the day, the students were addressed. Jordan had been stricken with a severe muscle disease, and he was unable to move hardly anything. It had hit very suddenly, starting just two days before. The teachers answered a few questions, but much was unknown. Jordan didn't have an official diagnosis, and he and his family were headed to Minneapolis for two weeks for answers.

A.J. came home talking about it, and that was the first I heard of the locker incidents. He explained everything as best he knew, but he still wondered why Jordan had yelled at him. I told him that Jordan had likely become VERY scared VERY suddenly, and he'd not known what was going on. (I can't even imagine what the poor kid went through, as well as continues to go through.) A.J. could understand that, and he expressed a hope that Jordan would get better.

Two weeks ago, Jordan returned to school. As far as the kids know, his condition is still unclarified. He attends for two periods in the morning, and then he returns for the last period of the day. Earlier this week, we were discussing Jordan again, and I was getting those details from A.J. over dinner. He was explaining how either Jordan's parents or the teachers wheel him everywhere. I asked suddenly, "Can he still move his fingers?"

A.J. answered that yes, he could. I then said, "Well, they make motorized wheelchairs that you can control with just your fingertips. I wonder why he doesn't have one of those." (I was speaking as quickly as I thought it.)

A.J. looked me square in the eye, tilted his head just a bit, and said softly, "Mom, his family can't afford those kinds of wheelchairs."

...

Oh, my my. Oh, my heart broke even more! I just hadn't thought through all of it yet, you know? I am so clueless, so blessed by my healthy children and family, so very naive. The poor Chambers family!

I know the mother worked as the head cashier at Jack's elementary school. She is a very friendly woman, always chatting nicely with me or Philip when we attend Jack's lunch. Her daughter was on his indoor soccer team last winter, and they are a sweet family. She has had to quit her job to provide care full-time for Jordan, and I'm sure that is just a financial strain added to everything else. (I wondered where she had been for a few weeks. I hadn't seen her several Wednesday lunches in a row.)

During conferences, the middle school had a lady selling jewelry in the hallway, and all of her profits were donated to the Chambers' family. In addition, tomorrow night, the school is hosting a fun night for the kids, where they can come and party, paying extra for the chance to fight each other in Sumo wrestling suits. All of the admission costs and proceeds will be donated to the family as well.

I've asked both schools to let me know if I can bake something for future events - something they can sell and turn the money toward the family. The elementary principal hadn't even thought of having an event before, but hopefully now there will be something planned. In the meantime, all our prayers go out to Jordan Chambers and his family.

Last Wednesday was a busy, busy day. A.J.'s seventh grade class had a special field trip planned to go duck-banding at dawn, but there was a catch: only 20 students' names would be drawn. On Tuesday, A.J. learned he was one of the lucky ones! I was really hopeful they would let me attend as well, wanting to have some pictures for A.J.'s school scrapbook, but the office staff couldn't grant permission. They told me to arrive ready-to-go and hope for the best.

I did just that. I got out of bed at 2:50am (I was too anxious and wasn't sleeping anyway), and then I woke A.J. at 3:45. We'd planned all of his clothes and things the night before, so he got ready for the trip, as well as packed the things for the rest of the school day afterward. We arrived at the school at 4:30am, and the bus was roaring in front of the school. I ran inside, found Mr. Walz (A.J.'s science teacher) and said, "Hey, can I please come with you guys? I'd love to take pictures." He said yes!

I moved my car to the staffing side, and we all loaded up in the bus. It was the darkest of blacks as we lumbered down the highways in extensive morning fog. We went down small roads and eventually reached J. Clark Salyer National Wildlife Refuge. It was still the color of midnight when we stepped foot off the bus for a restroom break in the Refuge offices before heading to the water's site. It was very cool and windy, but I couldn't help myself from standing and staring at the sky in awe - the stars were countless and amazing! With no lights anywhere near, it almost seemed as if more stars popped up visible the longer you gazed.

From that moment on, the kids had to be super-quiet. As we approached dawn and the water, the bus pulled to a halt, and we waited in absolute silence. We turned off our cell phones (there wasn't any service anyway!) and didn't even chance a whisper. The silence was paramount to the birds feeling safe to flock and feed once the rockets went off and the nets went out. Within half an hour, we heard the soft boom! of the feed rockets, and we saw the smoke curling against the faintly lit sky. It was time.

The nets formed an apron and captured the birds as the bus moved closer. We shuffled out of the bus and straight up to the ducks - hundreds of them. Just as the kids moved in to begin sorting the birds, I turned to catch the sunrise over the water's edge:



The kids worked for a few hours, becoming cold, muddy, and sometimes, pooped on! Every single one of them had a fantastic time, though. They were hyper and chatty the bus ride back to the school, all wishing they could come to the Refuge and do it again!

We arrived back just after 10am, in time for the kids to head to their 4th period of the school day. I raced home, gathered a box, and then headed out to Jack's school to have our traditional Wednesday lunch together. The tables seemed more crowded than usual, and I sat across from Jack and very close to a new student from Louisiana. He was engaging, and had the entire table enthralled as he told them of alligators in the marsh at his old base. :-)

After lunch, I delivered some cookies to a teacher in the school. I came home, grabbed my list and ran a few errands, and then I prepped several boxes for mailing. I went to the post office, and I made it home just a few minutes before A.J. arrived. We gabbed about the morning, and then I set to making dinner and cleaning house a bit. I worked hard the rest of the day/evening, and when I crashed into bed at 11pm, I was POOPED!

There will be more pictures soon from the actual duck-banding trip. I'm working on them right now. :-)

A.J. wasn't interested in coloring the eggs, but two days later, he was ALL OVER cracking and peeling them!

I originally just asked him to help me, and he easily agreed to do so. A few minutes later, I was still shelling my first egg as he reached for his third. I remarked how amazing that was - how was he doing it so fast?! - and it instantly became a game, a race!

He showed me his technique (all thumb skin, where I'd been carefully using my thumbnail and it slowed me down), and then we really started scrambling. His tenth egg had imperfections, and it caused me to leap ahead from my seventh egg to a start on my eleventh one. At one point, he reached across me and knocked my little paper plate of shell bits all over my lap, costing me half an egg's time in clean-up (while he giggled and worked furiously ahead!). I made him grab the next carton of eggs, and I caught up my half an egg's time.

In the end, we were sing-songing out our numbers each time we finished a new egg, and we were talking to and coaching our little eggs to go faster. We both finished our twentieth egg at the SAME TIME, and it was chaos as we each reached for the last egg...

I had it first, but A.J. bumbled it out of my hands (and neither of us understand HOW we didn't knock over my Dr. Pepper in the process!), and then I caught a fingertip on it once more, dropping it from his hands to the wood floor... where it rolled and cracked and rolled and cracked. A.J. was fastest on his feet to grab it, and he scored the final egg. It took him no time to peel it, especially since it was then already cracked and open!

Score: A.J. - 21, Mom - 20.

But so fun! :-) Neither of us even like hard-boiled eggs, so it was great to have a fun memory to associate with such a yucky task. (I enjoy coloring them, and Philip loves eating them, in case you wondered why I bothered even making them. *nods*)

Baby is totally hindering A.J.'s homework efforts right now. She's laying across some of his papers on the table, lolling and looking perfectly adorable, and he just keeps whispering, "Aww, Baby kitty!" I looked over there a minute ago, and he was on the floor, poking a pencil over the table edge for her to bat at.

So cute.

Yesterday A.J.'s preschool class celebrated his 4-1/2 birthday. His real birthday is Aug. 23rd, just 5 days shy of when the academic year actually started. So, we took in a beautiful 'Thomas the Tank Engine' cake - ordered from Wal-Mart, of course - and he was so excited! He'd been talking non-stop about his birthday cake all weekend.

And so the party at school went off without a hitch, and the teachers took some pictures for me, since I had to be here with all the daycare chitlins. And we had over a 1/2 a cake left when he came home.

Last night, A.J. was having a hard time staying focused on his dinner, doing the whole "When I'm done, I'm gonna have some cake for dessert" thing, while not really eating his dinner at all. And so, I put the cake in the oven (I don't like it on the counter anyway - it's just in the way there), and he asked me what I was doing. I told him the oven was going to eat all the cake up - yum, yum, YUM! Of all the things he chooses NOT to believe, this one he did! He ran off to his room crying that his cake was all gone, and he wanted his Thomas and such. Philip had to go after him and console him for a while. I felt mildly bad, but hey! It was a joke, right?

This morning, I turned on the oven to heat it up for cheese toast, forgetting that the cake was inside. *melt* Ah... smell that burnt plastic and cardboard box. I felt so bad.

I called A.J. in to the kitchen to show/explain what had happened. Poor thing actually said, "But why did the oven eat my cake?"

I feel *this* big. :(