Waking mama bear

You know how parents always tell their teens "if you're ever in situation where you feel uncomfortable, call me and I'll come get you, no matter what"?  Yep, I got that call last week. Lauren had headed out with some friends to go to an amusement park a couple of hours away.  Within an hour, she started texting me:  

whoa, he's driving 115 mph. 

he won't slow down.  

wait, he slowed down to 100.

now they're making fun of me for wanting to go slower.

(at this point I want their phone numbers so I can give them a good verbal shaking but then I don't want them to talk on the phone AND drive over 100)

(or to call the highway patrol and get them pulled over)

(or--better yet--to actually shake some sense into them)

This is scary. But we're almost there. 

Will you come and get me so I don't have to drive home with them?

Well, of course. The mama bear in me roared and I went and got her, adrenaline surging. Glad she told me (and it was actually even worse than she had let on), relieved she was okay, and peeeeeeved with the risk-taking crazy boys who will--rest assured--never chauffeur my girl again.  I was so angry at their stupidity.  (And also? I have never had to retrieve her from anywhere when she was with her friends from school.  These were church friends. Sheesh.)

L kept apologizing on the way home.  I assured her that we would go ANYWHERE to make sure she was safe.  That's why there's a little mama bear cave in the heart of every mom, holding a protective and fierce creature whose first words upon waking from her hibernating slumber are DON'T MESS WITH MY CHILD.

Then I told her about the time I jumped out of a moving Volkswagen van when I was 16 (something about wanting to get out but the boy wouldn't pull over).  Silly teenage brains.

In press

We were surprised to find that Lauren showed up in The New Era (our church's worldwide youth magazine) this month in the feature they did on the pioneer trek we did last year in our area.  It was fun to relive some of the memories + to have such a nice moment with her friend Ian captured in print.

Lauren is in the yellow bonnet, pulling the handcart

And then, in a freaky coincidence, we found that Sam was in the Friend (the children's magazine) for this same month for a little service project he and the other children did last year at the Old North Bridge.

Sam's in the red shirt on the bridge

You'd think we hired agents or something! Two children featured, three children in our family. Hmmm. Way to mess with our slippery + tentative balance of sibling equity, church magazines! (Luckily, Miss M didn't have a Marcia, Marcia, Marcia moment at all.) 

she's off!

During this Independence Day weekend I have been remembering that 4th of July three years ago when we watched Lauren's ponytail swing through airport security on her way to work for Aunt Sue in Ireland.

This week she celebrated her (semi)independence by getting on a plane bound for LA (where she met the rest of her group) and then heading to the South Pacific.

She's been planning this for 7 months, completed the AYS applications, raised money (thank you to you dear family and friends who contributed), wrote lists and packed in preparation for this long-dreamt-of adventure.  She'll be gone for 16 days, with a group of young people (ages 16-19) + 4 parents + 1 expedition leader. They will be building a library in Tonga, working on other service projects, learning, serving, discovering. And some fun thrown in there, too--they stopped in Fiji for a day of snorkeling on their way to Tonga, for example. Definitely working hard and playing hard.

. . .

I have been remembering, too, those pesky Braxton Hicks contractions that plagued me in the last part of my pregnancies.  Life has a way of warning us, of designing rehearsals into our systems so that we can gradually prepare ourselves for the real deal.  I've come to think of these adventures and field trips as another set of Braxton Hicks experiences, just preparing me ever-so-slightly for the time when she--they--get on the plane and fly away into a new life. Ever since their births, the leavings just get longer and more distant, more thrilling and bittersweet.  But it's what I signed on for and I have to remind myself that healthy, sprouting, + blooming independence is a thing to celebrate, not mourn. Right?

The better to read in, my dear

We are all loving our new striped hammock, so far in constant use.

It reminds me of Wildwood + makes me happy to see feet dangling on a lazy afternoon.

Finale

 

Post prom, day after celebrations: potluck dinner + roasting marshmallows + Roman Holiday outside

I love these kids.

They really know how to stretch out an event and milk it for all it's worth.

The end.

I promise.

And no one is more glad for the closed chapter than a certain younger sister. She's been a great sport but I can tell that L Attention Month--what with the college trips, proms + dress shopping, surgery + get-well visits--has taken its toll on the sisterly vibe.