As a normal 9-year-old boy who had ADHD, summer can be hard on my darling Noah. This is the first year he’s actually had friends who knock on the door asking if “Noah can come out and play,” and for that I’m totally grateful. Last summer was rough as he spent whatever time wasn’t crammed with activity (and only so much he wants to do with me) sitting in front of the TV staring at whatever the video of choice was.

I signed him up for soccer camp which is this week. It’s his third year doing it and he enjoys it. He’s also taking swimming lessons which started last week and are this week, too. AND he’s doing summer basketball at the Y, his second time doing it.

So, today has an unusual confluence of events that he had soccer this morning, and at 4 he has swimming and at 6-8 basketball.

I picked him up from soccer and was actually delighted to see that his shirt was dirty and sweaty and his face had dirt and mud on it. He played hard!

I’d promised him a trip to Chick-fil-a after soccer and as we walked to the car after camp, I asked him if he still wanted to go there. He said he was starving, so yes.

Noah: “Can we get milkshakes after with your money? I’m trying to save up for a Mustang.” (see previous posts about his Mustang obsession)

Me: “Well, I’m trying to save my money, too, you know.”

Noah: “But you have a job and get more money.”

Me: “I don’t have a job.”

Noah: “You should take a job, Mom. Then you can get one dollar, two dollars, three dollars.”

Even if everyone I know seems to have an Iphone and EVERYONE on all my favorite TV shows do, I don’t. I seriously can’t afford it and the only reason my husband has one is because he got it from work.

A couple of years ago, at Christmas, my husband got me an Ipod. I don’t listen to much music on it because it truly eats power but I have come to depend on it to be my calendar and my watch and alarm clock and basic personal organizer.

A while back the screen was cracked, like someone took a pick or something and tapped it – cracks radiating from what appeared to the an “epicenter.”

It was useable but I did fear the glass would fall out, so I took it to one of those places that advertise they can fix it in “Five Minutes.”

Well, they said they didn’t have a screen for my second generation (read old and nearly obsolete) Ipod, but they’d be in in a day or two. So, I took it back in a day or so and the woman said it would take her about an hour (Five Minutes?) because they were so backed up.

Nearly two hours later, she called and said it was ready. I went in, paid my $70+ and took it home.

Within an hour of that I noticed that the button on the bottom – the only “button” – had stopped working. I couldn’t get out of any program I was in. If I turned it off and back on, I would be at the home screen and could use another program, but that got to be a pain.

I took it back and she said that sometimes a small piece of the glass gets into the home button and it needed to be replaced. BUT they didn’t have any of those in stock and would have to order them.

After a couple of weeks, I’d called and got an answering machine. For two weeks, I’d call every Monday. Finally, I got a human who said the buttons have to come from KOREA.

Okay, doesn’t Apple have some manufacturing plant somewhere that has an assembly line or something with a station that has a bin of buttons for some underpaid factory worker to put in the proper place?

Failing that, isn’t Korea a place that has modern airports and Western style delivery type systems? Why in the world would it take SIX WEEKS for a part ordered from KOREA to get here? Do they have to be hand carved by blind Buddhist monks, using tools they have to create themselves and then discard each time? Then the precious buttons are carried, one at a time, on satin pillows, down from a snow-covered mountain top by one-legged sherpas?

Honestly!

Finally, I called and they told me the buttons were in. So, I took the Ipod into the repair place and the woman said it was going to take half an hour to fix and did I want to leave it? I said absolutely not, and I sat down and waited.

After a while, I got my lovely little Ipod back, all fixed.

THEN –

A week or so ago, I noticed that the second row of icons wouldn’t work. It also meant that I couldn’t do anything with the wifi settings and since we secured our home wifi, I couldn’t put the code in.

The other day, my daughter wanted to go the Mall to buy birthday gifts for two friends. I went with her and we passed the Apple store.

I thought, ‘Oh, cool. I’ll stop in and they’ll tell him the thing isn’t repairable or all I need to do is reboot the whole thing and it’ll work.’ I dug around in my purse and found the I had it with me so I went in.

I explained the situation to the woman with the iPad at the door. She
tapped a few things into her device, then said:

“Okay, so I have you down for a 7:50 appointment. We’re running about ten minutes behind but someone will be with you.”

I looked a her for a moment, then said, “Wait. You mean now?”

“Well, in about fifteen minutes, but yes.”

I turned to Juliette and said, “Do you want to go get the gifts and then come back?” She looked a little frustrated so the woman said “Do you want to make the appointment for another day?”

I told her no as I’d forget to do it. As long as I was there, I’d get it over with.

So Juliette left and after waiting 15-20 minutes where I did nothing but wander around the Apple store and text my brother, a guy came over and I told him what the problem was. He looked at my Ipod and asked if I’d had the screen replaced.

I said I had and he said they don’t even replace cracked screens. They would have replaced the whole inside set up and having just the screen replaced messed up my touch function. I didn’t even bother to tell him about the button fiasco.

The bottom line is that they could replace the Ipod at cost – $99 or if I recycled my Ipod with them I could have a 10% discount.

Juliette says that’s a lot cheaper than a new Ipod. I don’t know because I don’t check on these things.

Anyway, getting the screen fixed was apparently a bad idea all the way around, but for the moment I’m hanging on to my current one. I can’t get internet at home or do some of my stuff, but I don’t know that I can afford $90 either.

Years ago when I was in college, I attended a forensics tournament as part of a public speaking class. On the drive back to my dorm (my brother insists they’re called “residence halls” – yeah, whatever), I hit a patch of fog so bad I could barely see past the front of the car. I had to inch along that back road until I could see my way clear to get home.

Often we find ourselves in situations in life where we can’t see the way out. Maybe it’s a financial worry (seems like I worry about finances all the time!) or an illness or an issue with a child.

I think all of us are always in the middle of some kind of fog or other. Some are like the one I drove in that time and others are more minor, like those Claritin ads right before they peel the soft focus off. We think we’re seeing pretty clearly but later we realize that things were a little smudged.

The problem with fog is that we often don’t realize that there is light outside of it. We moan and despair because it seems like there’s no way out and life will be like this forever. And we can look at other people and we can’t see the fog they’re in and we fall deeper into despair, raging against the unfairness of life. Or maybe even God. Why are we in this situation when no one else seems to be? What did we do to deserve this?

Not getting into the whole we’re-all-sinners-and-deserve-worse-than-this scenario, we need to remember tha we can’t see the fog around others and they often can’t see the fog around us.

In early May I got the chance to spend a lot of time with my brother and his wife. My brother is eight years younger than I am but we’re very close, emotionally, if not in distance, and when we’re together, it isn’t unusual for us to go off, just the two of us, and talk for hours.

During this last visit, we talked about how we both feel like we’re always in a financial bind. He said he looks at his friends at church and sees them being able to afford vacations and other little luxuries that he can’t. I know how he feels.

The Girl just graduated from what must be the “rich kids’ Catholic school.” ALL of her friends that just graduated, too, are going on “Senior Trips.” Two of her friends are, right now, on a cruise to Alaska!!!

Her senior trip consisted of us driving to New Orleans to see a place that makes and stores Mardi Gras floats and props. Tomorrow she starts her summer job at Chick-fil-a.

We just don’t have the money to send her on a trip or get her a car. We just don’t.

My brother said he talked to his pastor (he’s not Catholic) about this and the man told him that many of parishioners envy my brother and his wife for their strong marriage.

We just don’t know the fog other people are in and they see us outside of our fogs.

The good thing to remember is that God is outside the fog AND inside the fog. He knows how we feel and how we’re hurting or struggling or angry or frustrated, but he also knows what’s outside the fog waiting for us. He even knows WHY we’re in this fog at this time.

The Boy will be repeating kindergarten because he has some maturity issues and just isn’t ready for the regimented life that is first grade. I mean, these kids change classes and have to know what folders to take to each class. I’m lucky if the Boy knows where both of his shoes are every day!

He also has some ADHD issues that I’m learning ways to deal with, and I’ll be homeschooling him this summer in his reading and math so he’ll be ready to take on a second year of kindergarten.

This probably doesn’t sound like a thick fog to you and it probably isn’t, but to me, it feels a little like a failure on my part. Maybe I wasn’t strict enough with him or maybe I could have done more to prevent his behavior issues when he was in pre-school.

You have an image of what you expect life to be and I never expected any of my kids to repeat a grade. I know it’s only kindergarten and as he just turned 6, it’s for the best, but like when I had my C-section, there’s a little grief as I never saw myself as that person. I never thought of myself as someone who would have a crisis pregnancy and have to have an emergency C-section and I never saw myself as the mother of a child who had to repeat a grade.

Did you see how many times I referred to myself in that last paragraph? Like this whole thing is about me???

Maybe that’s what this fog is about – getting me to not focus so much on ME and to focus more on HIM (both God and the Boy!).