Song for a Sunday

Well, I have a shameless Mom brag today...

My Hannahboo made the Freshman Honors Choir for our region.  Auditions were Friday. Despite the choir teacher's concerns about Hannah "distressing her voice" through her cheer practices and despite Hannah actually distressing her voice from just being too loud screaming at the pep rally on Friday (not even as a cheerleader..this was a football rally, she is a basketball cheerleader, to be precise...), and perhaps being a touch less prepared than she should have been (by which I mean, the auditions snuck up on her and she hadn't practiced), she made the choir!

I'm so proud and happy for her!
Now, it's not too big a deal, one performance in November. But it's great experience at having to sing in front of real people, not just our empty living room at the piano.  She's great at that and sounds great playing that piano and singing her pop songs...but for real, in public, and classical choral music? That's a whole 'nother ball game.

Of course, now she says we have to go shopping for the outfit.
Hmmm, somehow it always comes back to the clothes doesn't it?
Such a girl.

Anyhow, this is  a happy tidbit for a hopefully peaceful Sunday at home.
Music from audition, not HER, but the piece that they had to sing, below.
Perfect for a Sunday.
I love Sundays.

Retro Mama

Sylvia Sue....

This is my mom...in one of the pics of her that I love.
Love this outfit in all it's retro coolness!
And the reason that I'm looking at it today is that today is my mom's birthday!!
Yup, that's right, it's a birthday again!
And it's hers...which means I get to wish her a wonderful happy bday, and all her bday wishes come true.
She is beautiful, inside and out.
And while we both now agree and discuss how aging is a um...bear.....I say she is still beautiful. 
More so now than ever in many ways as her heart has grown in wise kindness and my understanding of her has too. 

She has and has always had a heart for the kids and puppies and the little ones.  That's her above (w/ my little bro behind her) at the house I grew up at in Arizona with our two labs, Nip and Tuck.  (I know...Dad named them, what can I say...great dogs tho...)

This is mom with my sister Nancy....another cool skirt and a great shot of my sis.  Who knew my mom was such a fashion coolio with all the terrific skirts (we clearly share a love for a funky skirt...). 

And this amazing pic is my mom, when SHE was a little one.  Wow.  I could stare at this pic for hours...her artistic side, her creative flair, her stubborn independent streak, her opinionated passion...it's all here.  And so, too, her practical logic too - note the hat and coat.  This in a funny goofy way, is my retro mom....from so long ago, to the wonderful her now...it's always been there and I know always will be. I like to think that some of my best traits, came from her...I wish I had that fashion flair above! 
I love her and miss her, and today, on this special day, I'm wishing her the happiest of days.

Cowboy fabulousness family photo (I've got my eyes shaded); 

mom is, as ever, the hub.  Good times!

Happy Happy Birthday Mom!

I love you - ok, we ALL love you so.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Ah.  Brothers.....

Loc Out!

So, we finished the take down on Sunday.
It was a JOB!
{I've been quiet on blog....been working on hair!}

It took over forty hours of work, thankfully I had great helpers in Emmy and Marti.

But it was exhausting for us all.  On Friday I had to send her to her first day of 5th grade in the midst of the process - can you say "Bad planning?" I can! But I think we did ok on making it still work for the day.

These locs had been put in and maintained by several different people over the  years. Thus we had palm rolled, microbraided, and latched locs...sometimes all three in one loc.  Plus of course the standard "locking" of hair growing together and dead hair etc.

We went through bottles of conditioner and olive oil, with a little bit of detangler thrown in during the takedown.  And still it was SO dry and not what any girl or mom shoots for with the hair.

After it was all out, I DEEP conditioned it several times, as it was just so very dry.  It will need more deep conditioning this week too and some babying to get it back in shape.
Happily enough for her, Sarahbird has crazy thick hair, it's fragile but she's got a ton of it so even with the expected breakage and loss during the takedown and the natural shedding of hair over the years, we saved literally years of growth, so it was worth it.  
Instead of a teeny weeny afro, she now has this:

So, now I get to loosen up my rusty hair styling skills.  I mean, they are rusty in a big way, it's been over four years since I had to style in a serious way and then I had little girl heads to do.  Now it's a preteen, so we are kind of in that in between zone: not a baby or little girl but not a sophisticated teen yet either.  This is gonna take some creativity and research both.

But she is staying natural, her hair is a glory.
It's thick, it's hard to work with, but it's glorious and it's lovely to be able to see her bone structure and fine lines of features again.

(Ok, she was so tired here, just wanting to be done with it...so looking pensive; 

and being that kind of mom, I still wanted a pic.....)

Sarahbird is ecstatic with her free hair, her head is lifted higher.

(So many sisters, but a happy crew post hair 

- excuse the mess - we were all so happy to be done.)

And that, right there, is worth the effort.

First day: high school sister edition

Hannah and Marta began high school today!

It was an exciting day, much anticipated and it went swell!

Marta's awesome wonderful Hand in Hand teacher met us in the hallway and made the drop off easy and happy and exciting for her,

Hannah let me give her a hug and just was sort of...instantly absorbed into the school.

Perfect fit....

For both of them in their own way.

A happy exhausting day.

Sounds like high school to me!

Frosh Retreat: high school sister edition

So last week, Thursday and Friday, Hannah and Marta had their frosh-o retreat. 

All the freshman and transfers to their high school went to the Boxwell Boy Scout Camp and had all sorts of fun and daring events, culminating in the pics above of the time honored tradition: box boat races.  Boxboats made by teams; one that goes farthest before sinking wins bragging rights for the year. 

It's a fun hot kooky couple of days but the teachers and new students all get to know each other and it's bonding.  Temps in the high 90's and humidity the same, plus a quick downpour or two, mosquitos and lake water is the fodder for memories and the beginning of a class bond.  Even Marta was able to go and have fun, despite her nerves at the new unknown. 

So a big time was had by all.  Real school begins Wednesday....we can't wait!
big thanks to Lori Jones for all the pics!

Gonna buy me a dog...

I know, once again I've totally dated myself.  But, hey, the Monkee's are classic in their own way, right? Right.

Anyhow, we are stepping back to normal life, sort of, this week.
Little Man is still down for the count, but the count is tapering off.  He's a week out from surgery and his doc assured me yesterday that in a mere couple of days he'll be a new boy.  Or, at least, back to the old boy.  Let's hope so, he's lost at least seven pounds; relative to his six year old body size that's a lot and he's looking way too skinny to make mom happy!

So, what does a mom do when she has a boy flat on the sofa for a week, and a paranoia suspicion of mice still about??
She gets a dog!
Not just any dog mind you, but a little girl pup.
Yup, we are getting a pup.
And I just know,
things are looking up!
(Who knew, getting a goofy cute puppy makes the Seuss vibe take off...)

We have high hopes for this puppy, as a mouser to be, as a new family member, as a way to help Marta learn to trust and love us even as she  helps this puppy trust and love us.   Plus of course, a dog will love you no matter your mood and without any strings attached; there's nothing but good in that, especially if  you're a teen from hard places.
One more being to love and be loved.

This dog has a big job ahead!
I hope it's short little legs and small self are up to the task! She's a piebald dachshund, twelve weeks old.  Looks a bit like a beagle (for now) with very short legs.  My dear pal and my goddaughters assure me this puppy will be a big dog in a small mouser dog body; wriggling happy fun with with a tail.

Coffeedoc thinks I am out of my mind and only grudgingly has conceded.  He's a good egg though and he's making his girls very happy.  Sarah and Em are giddy with excitement. Marta did the classic regulation kid begging and promising for this puppy....now, we are not fools, we know those promises will be hard to keep.  But even so, we (Ok, I) think this will be a good idea...or I sure hope so. 
Pictures to follow once she's home...but for now....this is the soundtrack for today.

Little Man Down

 My Little Man, my Anthony, is having surgery today.

It's not really that big a deal, it's the classic kid surgery, sort of: tonsils, adenoids out, plus turbinates reduced (those things in  his sinuses that are keeping my boy from breathing well, at all, and adding to his remarkable ability to generate remarkable quantities of , um, snot). 

We hope that by doing this we can get this boy breathing, sleeping, and behaving a lot better, ....just feeling better all the way around.  


That may sound like I'm expecting too much from this surgery.  I'm not.  But I do know that if he doesn't sleep, it's not pretty; it's much harder for him to behave and control, well, everything.  Me too- if I don't sleep, I'm just mean.  Everybody needs to sleep, and to breathe, not necessarily in that order.  We hope this surgery can actually help make those two things happen.  What a concept.

But first we have to do the surgery and the recovery. 

Happily, it's outpatient, and we love our doc, Dr. Lee. 

Happily, my Little Man loooooves ice cream and he will have as much as he could possibly want.  But even so, I suspect he will be one unhappy camper for a while.  
Happily, I will lift the daytime tv ban, and suffer the consequences of kid zombies and acting out in order to give my little man down something to do while he is stuck on the sofa, mending.  

But, he is nervous about this.  

I'm not nervous about the surgery, it needs to be done, only a tiny bit anxious about easing him through the recovery, as easily for him as possible.  

So, it is not a fun day today for my Anthony.

Please throw a prayer his way for a successful surgery and swift easy recovery, if you think of it.

St. Anthony, pray for my Anthony today and the next week or so!

 Gabey & Anthony at home after surgery today...best bro's.

It's the Dad thing

Something about Dad's.
Gotta love 'em.
They can make you crazy, but still, ya gotta love 'em.
Dad, Daddy, Father, Pop, Papa, Pops, Pappy even (?), Pa, Da, Abbat, Padre, Pere,....
It's all Dad.

And there are two dads that mean the world to me, my Dad, of course, and my Tom, dad to my kiddles.
And they are the best.

First, my dad, aka Pops - on those cheery days.
I love my dad.

As dad's are supposed to be, he was larger than life to me as a little girl.
And I suppose in many ways, he still is, because he's still the dad...it's a lifetime, ya know?
He's part of many of my favorite things:
Riding horses, yakking about everything and nothing.
Sipping hot strong coffee, yakking about everything and nothing.
Reading the paper in the morning, commenting on the news and everything and nothing.
Comparing wines, and yakking about everything and nothing....
You get the idea....
I love him for his loyalty and his steadfast grit, no matter the tide,or his opinion on my choices and my opinions.

He's my dad, forever and always and I love him.


ANd then we have the other big dad in my life, the "pardner dad," {I can say "pardner", because we both grew up out west. It's in our blood.} my Tom.

He's such a great dad; such a great partner in raising this tribe.
He pulls up the slack when I am a slacker.
He pulls me up out of the indigo when I fall into the blues.
He can make me and/or the kids pound the table in laughter, so funny.
He is steadfast and sure, a rock to my rollercoaster of passion and mood, good or bad.
He loves his kids to distraction.
He is easily distracted by fun new adventures and toys, to their delight and my sometime consternation.
He is a born teacher, to my delight and to their sometime consternation.
His love and gift for music has carried into his children, all of them, in one way or another...enriching all of our lives.
He works far too hard and carries too many burdens; and without complaint, though he sometimes does daydream about moving to islands....
He is an adventurer, but stays close to home and it's needs regardless, tamping down that wanderlust and craving for new thrills.
He is strong inside and out, steady and sure, kinder than me and a softie on the inside.His girls totally pegged that, right away.
His boys don't always believe it.
But he is.
He's the dad.
He will go to the ends of the earth for his children, and has.
He's the dad, and we all love him so, and are so grateful for him.
I love this man, the dad of this clan.

So, I want to wish them both, and every single other dad out there, a very Happy Father's Day!

You all deserve some kudos for a very tough, long, hard wonderful job.  

And a big thank you.

Happy Father's Day!

CSI: Adoption edition

Maybe I should title it "ASI" : Adoption scene investigation.
Because ok, "crime scene"....no. But, "investigation"...yes.

Got your attention tho, huh? Good.
Because I need to call out for input; trying to figure something out.

Name changes.
Marta just told me that she had "baby name!"
NOT a nickname, a wholly different name.  
Now, I think it was so cute (and so did her mom)! Not sharing it online tho, not yet, maybe not at all (just because I haven't asked permission, cut also because she says she didn't like it and "13.  Marta, no baby, Marta").

However, I want to find out what this is/was about:
1. a custom?
2. a religous event, similar to our confirmation in the Catholic church?  She is/was Orthodox, but they confirm at the same time as baptism, in infancy.
3. a legal thing, since they don't track birth certificates?
4. something having to do with school?

Ideas? Knowledge?
Any of  you Ethiopians out there who have stopped by the blog (yes, I know, a reach, just trying to brainstorm...) have info on this?
Any of you parents of older Ethiopian kids have any info, or can ask?

Marta's name change involved her and her father consulting with the "Abbat", or priest, and writing it down in a book in their church for the record.  Thus, my conclusion that it might be sacramental.  However, seems upon my quick research.... maybe not.
It might just be an individual way of changing a  name as she said her dad wanted to do so. 
I don't know.  But, our info is so limited that I am hoping to find out more.  Please comment or email me if  you have further knowledge or possible links.  Thanks all!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Easter edition.

Sunday, seeing beauty

Too often I fall into the trap of only seeing the kids, especially the girls, in the light of the current swell of activity on any given day.  

By which I mean, too often I'm just evaluating the state of their rooms, or the chores, or if they are dressed appropriately (not to sound like a Nazi, but you know, "No flip flops, it's snowing.  "You cannot wear that to Mass, put on something nicer." "Your uniform is stained, find a new shirt, please." etc).  It's a easy trap to step in; don't we all sulk a teeny bit when our husbands step into this very trap and stop really "looking" at us (well on our good days....)?

It's all too easy to get caught up in the surge and swell of the tidal pull of any given day.  It's all too easy to stop paying attention to the fleeting nuances of expression and capturing them, both in photos and our memory.  

 

When they were small, we did it, showing the pics off with abandon, because they were just SO cute, so beautiful.  Now they are older, and it's not as seemly somehow.  We are not supposed to 'go on' about our children.  We want to protect them from the outside world a bit more yes, but that can then become a box of "less."  It's more complicated now. 

Are they not beautiful enough to comment anymore?  Is this the message they internalize as we protect them from dangers outside and in?...Because so too, I tend to not want to go on about their beauty too much out loud so they don't get the "big head." Then again, it is important that they know, really know, that I see their beauty, inside and out. 

But Sundays are a day to relax.  A day to see again, with clear eyes.  To notice the beauty given to us in this world, it surrounds us.... all too often, without our notice anymore.

 

I don't always manage it in my task oriented nature, but some days, for a moment or more, I do.  

 So, permit me to put it on the record, and go on for a moment (whether it's pc or not) about my girls.

 Because I want it on the record (especially for their sake) that I see them; they are so beautiful. 

My girls.  

I might be biased, but, they are - simply - beautiful.

Each and every one.

(Pics courtesy of my photography nut daughter, Hannah Banana)

Happy Bday to My Baby Bro!

Today is my Baby Brother's Bday!!
Yup.  Let's see, he's....um...we are all SO old that I can only remember how old we all are by tallying us up in relation to each other.  Does that make sense?  Maybe not, but it does to me!  So, let's see, John is 44.  Whoa.  Yeah, and he's my BABY brother.  Yipes.

Anyhow my wonderful dear funny kind fantastico brilliant brother, John is celebrating his bday today in his brand new locale: Micronesia.

Yup, read that again: Micronesia.

Yup.  Sounds like a state of mind, no?  And, one could argue, with John, that it could apply quite well, somehow, if it was an actual state of mind.  Does that make sense? No? Well, maybe not, but it does to me and I KNOW it does to him too!

John makes me laugh.  He is a gift because he is crazy kind, but he is more so because no one else can make me laugh so very hard.  Til I cry.  Of course, it's all lies and twisted memories... but they can make my sister and I just howl with laughs.

And today I want to tip my hat to my little dear brother.
Because it's  his birthday.
Because I love him so much.
Because I love his gorgeous family: his beautiful Parisian wife and his stunning brilliant daughters (my nieces!).
Because he has bravely grabbed a brass ring that flew by and just moved, radically, to Micronesia.
Because he is now a grand poohbah in Micronesia: a muckety-muck in the Attorney General's office...either the Assistant Attorney General of Micronesia or the de facto Attorney General or the Gofer Attorney General or something of that sort.
But I know it's a big deal because they sent a cargo container to move his family's stuff over the ocean to live in Micronesia and work.
He's an old pro at this, having lived and loved living in Vanuatu years ago.
Because he's a surf rat and tennis pro at heart, under that pin striped suit.
So I think he will fit right in and be immediately at home.

And I am wishing him a happy happy paradise of a birthday, with foofy tropical drinks, sparkling sun, and great waves to surf today.
Because he's my baby brother.
And I break into tears whenever I see him (because it's never often enough).
And then we both laugh.
And I hug him tight.

Happy Happy Birthday John!
We love you!
Catch a wave, surf's up!

Detours

This is a post about detours.

***

And apropos of this theme, I have a detour before I start blathering on about detours:

As I've been stewing about this post, this subject...a great lot of um, stuff (this is a G rated blog, right? right) has hit the fan in the Ethiopian adoption world. And I have a fair bit of thoughts about it rumbling through my brain...but those are for another post(s). {New requirements, across the board, for all families to travel twice - complicated and difficult and possibly good in the long run but a huge hurdle in the short for so many} For the moment, I offer my condolences and my ears to hear and heart to hurt for all of the children and families affected - for the cold slap in the face of worry that this news brings. But again, it's too easy to slide into the tempest of this news and start fretting aloud and repeating everyone else's words, and those who are in it, right now. And I'm not. I don't own those words. So I won't go there, not today. Maybe another day, ya never know! But I will probably also go off on a tangent or two...as I said, this just opens up so much fodder for pondering and processing, for me anyhow, which means, of course, for you!

***
Back to current post:
***

Anyhooo. As I said, I've been stewing about detours. It's hard to write all this because it's close. It carves right under that spot in your chest, right in tight to your heart and lungs. So if you cut too close you kind of gasp and can't breath, and you hold your breath as you talk closer to it, so that you can be really careful. Because you need to protect your own heart and also the hearts and breathing of the ones you love. I don't know, it's hard to make this make sense. I know I'm not making sense, and yet, this disclaimer must be put out first. Because its a raw spot. But it's also a spot that needs to toughen up, heal, move forward and that only happens by bringing it out to the light and looking at it, and thus, this post.

Right. Now that most have clicked away out of confusion and impatience, it's just us friends. Hey there.

So. A few times in my life, parenting life mostly, I have had some detours.
Scratch that: Ok, any life, my life, yours, we all have detours because no life goes as we initially plan it. Then it would be dull and boring and unsatisfying.

But I'm talking about the hard turn detours. The ones that have you ending up somewhere you never dreamed, parenting wise. Others have written beautifully about all this. I don't seem to be able to (again, hence this post). Probably the best known piece on this is here, known as "Welcome to Holland."

So, I've been to Holland, figuratively speaking. And you know, while the place has it has it's beauties, it's still a tough landing. And we have found ourselves detoured there once again, recently. And you know, this "Holland" is a complicated place. And like all control freaks (me), that detour thing?.....it makes you (ok, me) want to kick and fuss and whine.

Because I don't like detours....because they weren't in "THE PLAN." And that PLAN, well, we are, were, supposed to follow it. I mean, I had it all mapped out, you know? Knew where the bumps were, the turns, the scenic spots. Knew the time to get to our destination, and the best roads to follow. Heck, had even traveled it once or twice before. And when you are sent on a detour, even to somewhere with it's own intrinsic beauty, well, we control freaks kind of um, freak out a bit. Maybe we get frantic, or very quiet, or very deeply indigo blue. Maybe we stop trusting. Maybe we question if we ever did. Or do. Maybe we stop looking out, because the view has changed. And we get stuck with the rut of "but." As in, "But it was supposed to be Italy, not Holland." Or, "But, it was supposed to be in the PLAN, page 42."

And maybe it takes some time to realize that those detours are for us.

Those detours are for us.

Those detours are given to us by God himself.
Not as a punishment (because they are challenging, sometimes very hard, so it is easy to mistake them as such).
But as a gift.
A gift.

To call us back to Him.

To love Him better, right now.

To call us out of ourselves.

To save us from ourselves.

Those detours are not to deprive us/me of Italy.
That detour, this Holland, is to break our/my grasp on my own deadly vision: Us. Ok, me.

Finally, I realize that my struggle with this detour is me.
Of course.
Ever.

It has been ever so painfully shown to me (thank you Fr. Luke, ouch) that struggle is in my unwillingness to look....beyond my own miserable me. My plan. My day. My feelings and desires and needs. Those very things are what drag me into the indigo abyss. And that is not where I wanted to be or choose to stay.

And I forgot my prayer.
I - not so long ago - literally prayed this: "Save me from myself, Oh God, send me a child, the one you choose."

I forgot.

And He did what I asked.

Eight times.

Oh, dear, how could I forget that prayer?

This detour is for us. For me.

It all just IS for the child -- They haven't detoured. I have.

And they are waiting, pretty patiently for the most part, for us/me to step off the plane and start walking with them.

Really. Not grudgingly. Not counting the steps.
They are waiting to show me Holland. Again. Or - their Italia.

This blog, this post, helped me realize that it's ok to get frustrated with the detours.

But it's also ok to say the heck with it all, and we can make our own "Italy" right here.

Really?

Whoa.

I knew that, right?

Yeah, on the good days.

But I keep forgetting.

But, you know what?
I want to go to Italy.
I love Italy!

And who says we have to be stuck anywhere.....because detours are all about seeing new places with new eyes.

And I want to create some Viva Italia, starting now.

Song on a Sunday

Because I miss him.



That's my boy: Buddybug.  Ok, Chris, in the middle on the keyboard.   Playing the last time of the semester with his friends Katie Buetow (cello performance major), and Daniel Tostado (former vocal performance major) at Legends, up at college.  And gosh, a sad song: a cover of Ben Fold's "Fred Jones."I know I'm just the mom, but I think they sound good...and it's nice to hear him sing and play.  
Note: I'm not techno-literate enough to get it the video sized right and keep Katie from being cut off.  So if  you'd like to see her play (and she is terrific, I love watching her play...ah a cello...) then go here to see it full size and full resolution.  And yes, Chris does need a shave!

Tom's Home....and Chris is headed off to adventure.

Tom and Cindy, the invaluable nurse on the team, flying home; 

thanks to the generous Haitian pilot Jorge Paulhiac who let them  hitch a ride.

Tom, Coffeedoc, is home! It was a long haul home, but he made it safe and sound. Chris, Buddybug, is gone....off to Rome to study for the semester.

In less than 24 hours we've had incoming and outgoing bags and packs and airport runs in both directions.  A revolving door to this house this week.
The good part is that Tom is back and we are all so very glad!  And we were all glad to have had one last family dinner together last night, and for Tom to be able to see Chris a bit more before he left.
Was it hectic?
You betcha!
Was it worth it?
But of course!

So, to follow this new adventure in Buddybug's life, go here.
He's gonna post from Rome, often enough to keep us all happy.  Or so we can live vicariously, or virtually, and follow the fun, frustrations, faith, liturgy, beauty, silliness, art, food and adventures of a semester in Rome.
That's the plan at any rate. 

As for Tom....I think he has some decompressing to do.  I think it was a great trip, seems like it was a good team to work with and much good work was done.  And I know for him it's very satisfying and rewarding to be able to go and do all this. He loves doing it...on so many levels.

There were many folks to help unfortunately, due to the quake. But happily enough, many docs and teams working hard throughout the country.  Tom enjoyed working with other docs from all over, and was glad to be able to!  Docs and teams might pop in, lend a hand and move on.  Other areas would send patients over to Cayes Jacmel, knowing Tom and their team would fix them up.  It was a nonpolitical effort of focusing on what needed to be done by all; the Canadian military did an outstanding job securing the area, getting runway lights (by the time Tom left) and opening the road back up to Port au Prince.  So it was a good trip.

But, it's never easy either.
I forgot...when he comes back from Haiti, there is always some re-entry decompressing and sorting out to do for him.  For anyone I expect.  It is exhausting as well as exhilarating, on all levels.

Evening at the Hands and Feet Children's Village project.

That's the nature of this sort of thing.  It happens whenever you (ok, I) travel outside of your sheltered, carefully crafted and whittled world - you/I have to recalibrate, take in all the sights sensations sounds smells, the spears that pierce your heart.  And then you/I have to sort of heal it up. For yourself/myself.  That is not to say that you make it all disappear.  It can't.

But... this trip is his story to tell.  I'm just observing from the sidelines.  But I see it, that jaggety little edge. And I want him to feel welcomed home, and have time to settle back in and refresh, recoup, re-enter life here too.  

It's the juxtaposition: the beauty and the hard.

 On all levels.

Just like when we've gone to Ethiopia and elsewhere....you get a little bit torn, a bit of you is sheared off.  And you have to learn to live around that scar once you are back home.

It takes a bit of time.
And even with all this, it's so worth it.
I am proud of him, and also so glad he's back.
And for Tom?  Well, he's a little tired, but happy too, quiet.
He said it's wonderful to be  home.

We think so too.