The Road Less Traveled

It is entirely possible that I self-recycled that title from a previous post. You are much better than me at remembering that.

Does this give you an idea of where my brain is these days? I believe the value of all my brain cells combined would merit prime placement in end-of-aisle clearance at Target.

We are rolling right along in the game of life. We have been together now five months as a family. I absolutely have that barely-holding-my-head-above-water feeling, what with this flash parenting of teenagers. I keep telling myself I’ll have my act more together in time. One would hope.

There has been very little time for the Interwebs for me. As I keep telling my kids, I seriously doubt that anyone on their death bed is ever proclaiming that they should have  have spent more time on Facebook/less time sitting down to dinner with their family. We’re making up for lost time (a collective 31 years, in this case). It’ll take awhile.

It’s fun to see our new kids carve out their new American lives. They are delightful, funny, intelligent people and I am immensely proud of them. Immigration and transition are a bear. It’s never, ever easy, but they are doing really well.

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Here’s us. Quite a many, if you ask me.

Here’s a small slice of the schizophrenia we call family.

Me, I’ve made some things.

This hair, for example. Do you like it?

It’s a bit of a hair riot, in my opinion. She’s much easier to spot in a crowd now.

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And we made these, but they’re all gone now.

Nastja and I loosely followed this recipe for the red velvet guts. We decided that the filling tasted a little like edible Play-Doh. But then we slathered it in chocolate and sprinkles and fixed that right up.

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They still make these, believe it or not.

In other news, since New Year’s Eve, we have watched the Beavis and Butthead movie two more times. All family members are up to speed now, thank heavens.

If you’re feeling the need to pee your pants laughing, come on over and I’ll get my 11-yr-old and her 14-yr-old brother to sing “Lesbian Seagulls” in falsetto.

Julia (mid conversation with 11-yr-old): “Look! Lesbian seagulls!”

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Flying high.

My son has gotten *really* into gymnastics. It’s awesome. I had no idea he’d come with this feature. The boy can flip! He’d probably swap a kidney for extra trampoline time.

Of course I should probably have a photo of him doing that. Pause for a moment, if you will, and feel all smug about the fact that you’ve documented your childrens’ upbringing so much better than I have. (Our cameras were stolen on the airplane home from our first trip to Latvia. Which was a big fat freaking bummer. Sigh.)

We’re doing. Oh, we’re doing. And living. And figuring out our groove as a family. Plus no one’s hemorrhaging AND nobody’s in jail. Rock on.

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