The Bread and the Wine

Last Saturday, I was getting ready for the next day prior to going to bed, and I asked Charlie, "Will you be going to church with me tomorrow?"  His answer (or so I thought) usually depends on which church we are going to--my church, his church, or another church if I'm interpreting somewhere.

Did he ask where we are going?  Uh-uh.  His question was, "Is it communion Sunday?"

Forgetting Charlie's long-standing preoccupation with food, I'm pondering whether there's a deep meaning to this--does he feel more of a connection to God when the elements are served?--and Rick starts snickering off on the sidelines.

I glanced over at him with a questioning face, and he stops laughing long enough to say, "It's all about the snacks, man..." 

Many Moons--Aztec moons, that is...

Charlie and I decided to go to the "Many Moons Festival" at Towson University.  I've been feeling bad, because when I adopted him, I made a promise to China (in writing) that I would take steps to preserve his cultural heritage and instill a pride in being Chinese, celebrate Chinese holidays, etc.  I've been a miserable flop.  Not that Charlie really cares, unless it involves food...

Which this event did.  It promised Asian foods galore.

As it turns out, it took us quite a while to get to the food.  The minute we walked in the door, Charlie and his mohawk became the instant darlings of a bunch of old Asian men.  When they realized he was deaf, they weren't for a minute put off--they pantomimed the mohawk and gave him the thumbs-up on it.  He had a huge grin.

Then a man rushed up, all excited, with STUFF in his hands.  STUFF with feathers sticking out of it and bright colors.  This gentleman had decided that Charlie looked very Aztec with his mohawk, and they were about to have an Aztec parade, here's your costume, here have a drum, just follow the other kids as they're parading through all the different floors of this building, and you'll end up back here when it's done.

Hilarious.  Here's your Aztec....

Hair today and gone tomorrow - the tale of the Mohawk

Charlie sometimes defies description.  That's mainly because he won't leave his hair in the same style more than a few days running.  He is constantly experimenting with it and changing up, I guess because while in the orphanage he had no control.  When they were cutting hair, everyone got hair done, and everyone looked the same.  Everyone had the exact same cut, because the kids' preferences were never taken into account, and it was easier to just do the same exact thing to every child.  Now that Charlie is the boss of his own body, he wants to have some fun. 

I put up with it up to a point.  I won't allow tattoos until he's older and out on his own, because that's permanent, but hair?  It grows back. 

He has really tested me on that view, however. 

My mother at one point had been putting highlights in my hair, and there was some stuff left over, so she jokingly asked Charlie if he wanted some highlights, too.  He said yes, and unlike her, he wasn't joking. 

So she put them in.  And he loved it.

So the next time, he got bolder.  He decided he wanted to go blond--on one side of his head.  He bought a bleach kit and took it to my mother's house, and explained what he wanted.  The right side of his head blond, the left side leave black.  We tried to explain that his hair was not going to go blond.  He didn't care, wanted to try.  She looked at me, and I just threw up my hands, so she went ahead and did it. 

What Charlie ended up with was the right side of his head ORANGE and the left side black.  Hmmm, not quite what he had in mind, but it would do. 

He paraded around like that for a couple of days, but then the black started growing in at the bottom.  And that's when he got his grand idea...

His brother was going for a haircut, and Charlie's was starting to get long, so Rick took him along.  When Charlie told the nice lady at the Hair Cuttery what he wanted, she refused to do it until Rick called home and got me on the phone to tell her it was okay to do whatever he wanted.    I knew then it was gonna be radical.

The boy came home with a striped mohawk. Split down the middle, an orange stripe and a black stripe. All sitting on little black roots. Don't believe me?

Hush Your Face, Bugbat!

What I said: "I should Facebook that."  (referring to story in previous post about lying to deaf people)

What Rick heard: "Hush your face, BugBat."

Huh??? Obviously my diction isn't the greatest after a couple glasses of wine...

Even worse was trying to explain it to Charlie, who couldn't understand why we were laughing so hard we were choking.  It just doesn't translate well into sign! 

Fibbing to a deaf person

I don't often fib to Charlie.  I usually go to great lengths to explain what is happening in the environment around him if it relates to something he can't hear. 

But after having a couple glasses of wine, I'm a little lazy.

We were at Pizza Hut tonight for dinner, Rick, Charlie, and I.  I had two glasses instead of my usual one because I had Rick along as a double D.  (Shhh, don't tell my cardiologist, he'd have a fit!)  On the way home, Rick's neck seemed to be on a swivel, and I finally asked him what was wrong.  He said he kept thinking he heard motorcycle engines, and he was looking for them so he could make sure he didn't hit one.  But he couldn't find them, only hear them.

I didn't hear any motorcycle engines, so I started to tease him about the voices in his head.  He decided to just roll down the windows of the car so he could hear better.

At this point Charlie, who had seen us arguing back and forth (and me not signing, which was very rude of me), gave a questioning sound that even in my wine-induced haze I could accurately interpret as "Why did he roll the windows down?" 

I was feeling way too lethargic to go back and explain the whole scenario in sign language, so I just told him, "Rick farted." 

I really AM a bad mother...

What Would Happen to Me?

I was hoping it would be a while before this question arose.  Charlie finally wants to know what would happen to him if something happened to me.  Two recent events sparked the question in his mind, and he finally brought it up after wondering for a while. 

The first event involved bees.  Charlie didn't know I have a deadly allergy to bees until he saw me jump and run when a nest was discovered in a vehicle that has been sitting for a while.  That started the thought process.

Then, about 2 weeks ago, I went into the hospital for appendicitis, and had a heart attack while on the operating table.  Charlie was greatly relieved upon visiting in the hospital to see me sitting up, talking, signing, and looking okay, just in a lot of pain from the appendix surgery.  But that really brought the question to the forefront:  What would happen to him?

I explained that his godfather had agreed to be his legal guardian until such time as his older brother was professionally established enough to be able to take over, and that seemed to satisfy him. 

He didn't ask for any more specific details than that, such as whether he'd be able to stay at the same school, go to the same church, etc., so I'm guessing that means that he is comfortable with the plan and the people involved.  What I'm wondering, but afraid to ask, is whether he really worried that he would have to go back if something happened to me.  After some of the stuff I have found out about his past, that possibility would be worse than traumatic to him.  But he seems reassured that I've got him covered, so I guess that's all that's important. 

Sometimes I'd just love to get inside his mind...

Big week!

In addition to the brown belt, in the same week, Charlie had two other major accomplishments, in our eyes, anyway!. 

Remember when I mentioned he had a role in the school's production of "Dracula"?  He won the George Faupel Performing Arts Award (with a $50 savings bond) for that.  We drove out to Frederick to see it being presented to him.  When he saw us in the auditorium, he was surprised.  The school had not told HIM he was getting the award, so he thought he was only there to watch his friends get college scholarships awarded!  When he wanted to know why I was there, I told him I had heard there was going to be an ASL movie--look, don't you see the projector down there?  And the screen?  He swallowed it (boy, that kid is gullible...), and the look of absolute SHOCK on his face was priceless when they called his name for the acting award.  Proud mommy?  Heck, yeah!!!

Then the next day he brought home a piece of art I had never seen him do.  Turns out as soon as he finished it, his teacher scarfed it up and entered it in some high school art competition because she liked it so much.  He won third prize there.  Here's a picture of the picture, which is now hanging in the dining room:

So, between the brown belt, the acting award, and the art award, he has just had a really big week.  I'm afraid it might go to his head.

Going for the Brown!

Charlie's brown belt test.  He passed with flying colors, but only one color mattered to him:  Brown!!

On top of that, he also won the outstanding achievement trophy. 

But wait, there's more!  There was even a funny background story happening behind the scenes.  

We found out a couple of weeks before the exam that Charlie's regular interpreter would be on vacation and not able to interpret the test.  Usually she and I do that together--she interprets the bulk of it as the primary interpreter, and I'll stand at the back as secondary to count and interpret whatever is being said when Charlie is facing the back of the room instead of the front.  

Charlie flat-out refused to have a substitute for the primary interpreter and said he wanted me to do it, which is fine, I'm quite capable at this point.  So what we cooked up was that his regular terp would request a sub, and we would put the sub in the secondary position, doing what I usually do.  

Comes the night of the exam, and I got there about 15 minutes early, and the head instructor informs me the other terp is there already.  Once we located him, he introduced himself by first name, and he was very nervous about the fact that they would be using Korean terminology that he wasn't familiar with.  I reassured him that all he had to do was keep count (and the numbers didn't even matter so much as the rhythm so that Charlie knew when to do the next move), and that I would sign everything being said even when Charlie wasn't facing me so that the guy could just copy-sign me.  Told him it would be the easiest 2-hour assignment of his life.  He gave a weak, nervous grin and got in position where we wanted him. 

His signing was great, and he did a fine job at what we wanted him to do.  

Once the exam was over, and the candidates were sitting there waiting for the judges to finish deciding what belts each person would be awarded, the guy said I looked familiar and asked if I did a lot of community interpreting.  I told him I was just a student and was starting practicum next week, and he grinned and said he was really impressed at how I handled the test, and then he introduced himself by both first and last names and said that he was the Senior Manager at __________ (a local interpreting agency).  

My jaw just hit the floor - I had tried to get a screening interview with that agency back before Christmas, and it never came about despite many e-mail communications between me and the office staff.  When I mentioned that, he said, "I'll take care of that."  

The next morning, there was an e-mail waiting for me with a list of times to pick from for a screening interview, and he is also offering to give me some mentoring hours on team assignments with him personally for my practicum requirements.  I told him I felt a little silly for having such a senior interpreter there and sticking him in the corner and just having him count and copy-sign, but that on further reflection, I honestly didn't think I would change a thing, since Charlie was nervous about the thought of having a terp who hadn't worked with him previously and didn't know the terminology--and ultimately, Charlie is the client.  The guy said not to worry, he wouldn't have changed a thing about how I handled that assignment.  (Whew!)

God is good.  At just the point when I'm a little worried about the company I work for part-time and how much longer that job will last, God dumps this right in my lap to help me prepare for my new part-time profession.  Yay, God!!

And Yay, Charlie, too!!  He looks good in brown, don't ya think?

The Prince and Princess - Prom 2010

Last week Charlie and I went to pick up his tux for prom. I nearly cried when I saw him in it. My baby has grown up already, and he looked like he was ready for his wedding. Sniff, sniff, sob, sob...

His grin was as big as Texas, and you could tell he was having a flashback to the past.  I'm betting he never dreamed while growing up in the orphanage that his life would turn out like this, that he would someday be wearing a tux and going to a formal dance. 

So Thursday night arrived, and I drove out to Frederick to do the picture thing. When I arrived, his girlfriend wasn't there yet, but Charlie happily spent the next half hour dragging me from this group to that, having his picture taken with just about every kid in the courtyard. (And there were a LOT of kids in the courtyard!)

Then Harmony showed up. It was like the parting of the Red Sea. The crowd just kind of melted back to allow her through. She was stunning, absolutely exquisite.  When they all got done gaping, they mobbed her.

I had never met her in person before, just chatted with her for a couple of seconds on the videophone. She was just as sweet as she could be. And Charlie is obviously smitten, as you can see from his grin in the photos. I think the boy has pretty good taste in women!

After we got the picture-taking over with, Charlie fell in with a group of kids headed for the van that would whisk them all away to the prom. But after getting a few blocks down the sidewalk, he suddenly broke ranks, and came back to me, and said, "I'll see you later. Thanks! I love you."

It stunned me a little. We usually have to remind Charlie to thank someone for something, and although he will sometimes initiate hugs now, he isn't usually the one to say "I love you." Usually he will sign it back to me if I say it first. So I couldn't help but cry while I was watching him leave with his little princess, right?

They were the cutest couple at the prom. I swear it!  Would I lie to you?

Name in Lights

Charlie landed a spot in his high-school play "Dracula."  It was a really good production, all deaf actors with a team of six voice actors positioned at the back of the theater on microphones to interpret for the sign-impaired. 


What worries me is that his drama coach says that he is "perfect in his role."  No, Charlie was not Dracula.  He played Renfield, the mentally deranged lunatic in the asylum.  Perfect?  Ummm......


He had fun, though.  He isn't sure if he'll go back to acting again in another production or not.  This seems to be just one of those things he had to try just to be able to say he had the experience. 


The local Frederick newspaper sent a reporter to do a review of the play, and Charlie got special mention as being one of her favorite characters.  Here's a quote of her mention of him:


Mr. Renfield was another favorite. I loved when he walked out on-stage and was a living and literally nuttier Animal, from Jim Henson’s Muppets. The hair was just perfect. I won’t say more because I don’t want to give too much away about him.


I guess, since she mentioned his hair, I have to put a picture of it on here, huh?

Almost free ice cream

Da boyz looked at me like I was nutso when I  brought a couple of big bowls of snow in the house.  They had never heard of snow ice cream.  Less than two minutes later, I was setting bowls of wonderfully flavored and textured ice cream in front of them. 

They were both very skeptical.  They each stuck a finger in, scooped up a tiny bit, and touched it to the tip of their tongues.

The next thing I knew, the bowls were empty, and the oldest is asking me to show him how it's done, he wants more. 

I talked him through doing it himself, and he had another big bowl. 

This, as far as I'm concerned, is the only good thing about snow.  Unlimited amounts of ice cream, practically free.  (Have you priced ice cream lately???)

So, do I get THANKS from my progeny for making them such a delectable treat?  HELL NO!!!  The youngest one finishes licking the bowl and goes downstairs to watch a movie, and the oldest declares, "I simply can't believe you let me live to 22 years of age and never made this for me before...." 

It's time to kick that one out, isn't it???

"I'm Not Eating That..."

Quite some time ago, a blog I subscribe to had instructions on how to make your own laundry detergent.  It looked simple, so I decided that once I finished my mega-sized box of Tide that I had just gotten at BJ's, I would give this a try. 

The day has finally come, and I have made the laundry detergent.  The hardest part was finding the ingredients.  Mine weren't as cheap as what the guy who wrote the recipe managed to buy his for, but it still only came to $12 for enough ingredients to make many, many buckets of laundry detergent, which is a heckuva lot cheaper than my mega-size (and mega-$) box of Tide.

The first step is to cut or grate up little pieces of a bar of soap and boil them into a soup in a pot of boiling water.  I was nearly through this step when Charlie arrived home from school.  When he came in the kitchen, he saw me at the stove and got a quizzical look on his face.  (That's because me at the kitchen stove is a rare occurrence these days.)  He sniffed and came closer and looked at my pot of simmering green "soup" and looked up at me in consternation.  His look alone asked, "What the hell is THAT?" 

So I signed, "Dinner!  Ready to eat?"

He looked back down at it, gulped, and shook his head "NO."  It was emphatic enough to mean "NO WAY."  Maybe even "NO WAY IN HELL."  The next look he gave me clearly said, "Man, you guys eat some strange stuff in this country."  Sign language is so eloquent, and sometimes Deaf people don't even have to pick up their hands to express a whole sentence, y'know.

Great relief on his face when I explained what it really was and that Tide and I are through. 

Oh, and for those who are curious about the recipe, rather than copy it, I will provide you a link to the blog where I got it.  The guy who wrote this did a wonderful job of documenting exactly how to do it, pictures and all, so why re-create the wheel? 

Click here to learn how to make your own laundry soap.

But don't try to feed it to your kids.