Watching Them Go

Jonathan arrived home right at lunchtime, and as we were sitting around the kitchen table eating street tacos I realized how much I love watching our sons chatting and smiling and talking a language that Joe and I do not comprehend—a language of video game battles and board game strategies and YouTube personalities. 

After lunch they were driving to Folly Beach where they will join six other groomsmen in celebrating Nicholas' bachelor weekend. As we watched them drive away I felt things shift, just a little bit. We are parents of two grown sons, and one almost grown son, and every day the three of them walk (or drive, or fly) taller and stronger and faster into this thing we call LIFE.

As parents, our role is changing. Joe and I used to be in front leading the way. Like a lighthouse on a rocky shore we offered foundation, faith, and guidance. We illuminated the darkness so they could see possibilities and pathways. Then came the day we gave each of our sons a flashlight and stepped back, allowing them to explore on their own. We no longer walked in front, but alongside them, even as they explored further and further.

And now they have pulled ahead, and we stay behind, which is a little sad but also all kinds of wonderful. From our vantage point we see them forge pathways and explore hidden lands and see and do things we have never done. Now it is their turn to shine. And so we watch. 

It is hard, scary, sad.

It is beautiful, inspiring, exciting.

It is as it should be.

But we will always be that lighthouse, illuminated on the rocky shore, beckoning them home again. 

News from CasaNova

~1~

Last weekend, Nicholas (from Little Rock) and Jonathan (from Atlanta) flew to Williamsburg, Virginia to attend their older cousin's bachelor weekend in which the highlight was a day at Busch Gardens. A good time was had by all. 

This weekend, it's Nicholas' turn. His bachelor weekend will be at an undisclosed Charleston beach and eight groomsmen, including the cousin above, will be in attendance.

the Novajosky cousins

Nicholas, with three of his groomsmen 

(and fellow Clemson grads).

~2~

On the way to Nicholas' bachelor weekend, Jonathan (the best man) is picking up Timothy (a groomsman) who, despite being the youngest, has been included in the festivities. They are already under orders to take care of their baby brother :-)

Timothy, the youngest Novajosky cousin. 

Forever the baby brother.

~3~

The above means that Joe and I will have a long weekend to ourselves. I've always wanted to fly to Paris, France for a weekend. Do-able? I have my Brigitte Bardot/ Jackie O/ Elton John sunglasses ready to go. 

My Brigitte Bardot/ Jackie O/ Elton John sunglasses

A weekend in Paris. How about it Joey?

~4~

Jonathan has been on the go with back-to-back-to-back trips. He joined us in Hilton Head, he flew to Williamsburg, and this weekend he will drive to Charleston. Planes, cars, golf carts, roller coasters, and Ubers ... he's got it covered. 

the traveling man

~5~

Finally, my future daughter-in-law is taking the Bar Exam today. Sending prayers your way, Lauren!

Lost in the (Math) Translation

When I was in the sixth grade, I had a traumatic math class which ruined math for me. Forever.

Oh, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide; I am very, very good with geometry proofs, and I can balance an algebraic equation like nobody's business. But when numbers start creeping into trigonometry or, heaven forbid, WORD PROBLEMS with train schedules and miles per hour ... well, my mind shuts down. Literally. 

Everyone knows this about me -- my family, my friends, the entire blogosphere. I am not good in math,  which is why the fact that Joe is SUPER in math made the Top Five list of reasons why I married him. He is my Knight in Shining Math Armor and repeatedly saves the day when the Math Dragon breathes its deadly fire. 

(And if something happens to my Knight in Shining Armor, Son #2 is an accountant and will take over duties.)

Most of the time I live in a happy cloud of math ignorance, but sometimes reality rears its ugly head.

This evening Timothy came home from a 7-hour shift at Publix and told us how someone tried to pull a fast one on him with a $100 bill. It was a complicated con, and while Joe immediately got it, I had no clue.

"The problem is you are too nice," said Timothy helpfully. "You would give the person the benefit of the doubt."

So they explained it again and looked at me expectantly. I still did not get; in fact, I was thoroughly confused, but I nonetheless nodded my head like I understood.

This is called Self Preservation. It's a survival tool. 

But my guys were on to me, so after dinner Timothy pulled out the Monopoly money and reconstructed events. He was the cashier, I was the bad guy with the $100 bill. The first time through I still did not understand, and Timothy and I were laughing so hard I had to leave our pretend Publix and run to the bathroom. Joe was exasperated. 

Okay. Time to get serious. We reconstructed events for the fifth time (or maybe the sixth, but who is counting?) (remember, math issues).

This time, Timothy and I switched roles. He was now the bad guy and I was the cashier. 

And ALLELUIA ... I saw the light.

While I was astounded that a person could think of such a complicated con, mostly I was proud that my guy caught him in the act. 

Of course,  when I sat down to write this post I had every intention of describing each and every step of this diabolical con, but the minute I started putting it into words it got lost in the translation. 

Math. It's just not my thing.