The Boy is Growing Up My son is caught somewhere between being a little boy and being a boisterous adolescent. I guess this is what they now, so trendily, call a 'tween. His is definitely a 'tween. My little boy was born a little more than 10 1/2 years ago on a bitterly cold January night. He was born on Robert E. Lee's birthday. I found and still find this to be a tremendous honour for a southern boy born in Virginia (even if we have lived in Western Pennsylvania for most of his life.) When he was born I looked at his little face and felt like I had known him forever. It was a weird feeling but I recognized him. Ever since then I have struggled to protect him, provide for him, keep a smile on his face and raise him to be a responsible individual who does not strangle cats, set fires in the house or find pleasure in tormenting other children. So far, so good (except for that ONE little incident when he set his father's bed on fire when he was four. Sum it all up to say that lighters that look like guns are NOT good things.) My son has had issues which required hour after hour of therapy. A lot of people just write him off and say he is "slow" or "retarded" which, unfortunately, couldn't be farther from the truth. Also unfortunately, there isn't enough time in the day or patience in my soul to correct them. I have also found that people like this cannot easily be corrected and sometimes, it's not even worth the effort. But now he is 10 1/2 and for the first time in his life, he is getting a taste of independence and suddenly, there are twin girls on our front porch who want to know if our son can come out and play. And for the first time in his life, we let him go. After all the years of sheltering him, protecting him, and clearing the path as he makes his way in the world it is time to let him use the wings we have given him. It has happened kind of inadvertantly as the daycare I had planned was abruptly cancelled in the middle of last week. With no place to put him for the three hours his father had to spend in the office every day, we sat down and asked him if he'd rather go visit Aunt Ann for the week or could he possibly handle three hours every morning by himself? We were surprised but he adamantly wanted to babysit himself. He was a big boy now! He could do this! We gave him every possible out and even called Aunt Ann to make arrangements because we really thought by Sunday night, he'd cave and be afraid to be alone. But not our boy! Monday morning came and strong and determined (and armed with "Scooby Doo: The Movie" and "Big Daddy" to keep him occupied, Mommie's work number memorized and strict instructions NOT to open the door to ANYONE) our boy started his new adventure. Of course, I called every half hour, panicking slightly when he didn't answer and then breathing a sigh of relief when he picked up in the middle of the answering machine's message. But he was fine. I asked him why he didn't answer when Daddy called and he said because he didn't know who "The PACT Program" was when it came up on caller ID, then he remembered it was Daddy and it was too late. By noon when Daddy came home, our boy was dressed, had his sandals on and was out the door to play with his new friends. He was gone for the next seven hours. He called every couple of hours to check in and to ask if he could walk downtown with the kids to the library. I saw him briefly at 5:00 when I got home from work and he begged again to stay and play. We told him he had to be back at 7:00 sharp and sure enough as I stood on the porch at 7:00, there was my boy, running down the street to get home in time. The next day as I was talking to him at 11:30 just before his father was due home, a neighbourhood boy knocked on the door. I told my son I would hold on. I was so proud and impressed as he told the little boy "You know I can't come out until 12 and you can't come back until 12. I will see you then." I have always worried that when pressed by his peers my son would NOT choose the right thing. I have always been worried that the "maturity issues" we talked about every year at his IEP meetings were so predominant that he would always require constant supervision and guidance from us. This summer I am seeing, for once, the masterpiece we have created. And to be perfectly honest, I never before thought we had done such a great job. I watch as he makes a bad choice, is corrected and then makes the right choice the next time! I am filled with such pride and I look at him now almost in disbelief. Here is a child who never had the freedom we have suddenly had to give him. But here is a child who is conscientious, responsible and fully understands the trust we have in him. But we are all too aware that he is still our baby. Last night before bed his father asked him to go to the basement to get something. And he just couldn't. His father couldn't understand how a boy could stay by himself three hours every day, go out and play and come home on time yet be afraid at 10:00 at night to go into a dark cellar, even if the lights are on. The explanation is simple. He is a 'tween. A boy struggling to catch a glimpse of the man he will become. And we are so proud.

Summer in the City The fact of the matter is that I am a moderate kind of gal. I was thinking about this on my way to work this morning. I live in southwestern Pennsylvania which is the Humidity Capitol of the Free-Speaking World. My grandparents lived here when I was a little girl and I would visit every summer. I never really noticed the ungodly humidity but I DO remember driving to the mall with my grandmother, as sweat POURED out of her face and her telling me how she "really couldn't stand the awful humidity." Well, that is until the year I started college. I decided to go to college at a small, women's school in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. The dorms for freshmen were in the top two floors of the Administration Building and Maura Hall. Each was five floors of some seriously high-ceilinged rooms and buddy, let me tell you, there was NO elevator. That, of course, gave new meaning to the word HUMIDITY and finally, it had a place in my vocabulary. Believe me, when you're climbing 5 flights of stairs in 85 degree weather with 75% humidity...it's pretty much akin to doing a marathon inside of a blast furnace. If you started dry, cool and collected at the bottom, you could bet by the time you hit the fifth floor, you'd be stringy, soaked and pissed off. Today they have air conditioned those dorms and actually, I believe they turned them into men's dorms which is another subject altogether. I drive by on my way home and I also have a huge picture of the Admin building hanging on the wall in my cube. Every time I look at it I remember that first night spent in it...the sultry summer night and the unrelenting heat. And then I often go up there for meetings...and hate them all for the air conditioning I begrudge them to even remotely think about taking for granted. Humidity is just the name of the game here in western PA. My own home is turn of the century row house...and has radiators and thanks to a BIG tax refund a few years ago, a big, honkin' 17,000 BTU air conditioner in the living room window. As a concession to my interest in design and engineering, I have an intricate series of fans throughout the house designed to keep every nook and cranny cool. This also means shutting off the entire upstairs during the day. By the time we go to bed, our rooms are hot and muggy and impossible to sleep in. I spend most of the summer just wishing it was fall. Fortunately for me, pretty much, on September 1 that happens. You can almost bet on it. It's as if the heat just runs out. Suddenly the nights cool off and sleeping is wonderful again. And as for me, I am happy....until I start to realize days of insta-blizzards, freezing rain and slip-sliding to work are imminent. So basically...I am happy for about 30 days out of the year. The rest of the time I spend either dreading what's coming or suffering through what's there.

Million Gnat March Yesterday we were on our way back from the Eagles concert in Washington, DC. The concert was GREAT by the way!! I had too many Bloody Mary's but that's another story...something I have been paying for every bathroom stop for the past 24-hours! Anyway, we came back through the mountains in Berkeley Springs, WV - home of the world's first spa. It's a beautiful trip from Winchester through Berkeley Springs...one highlight is being able to stop at Cacapon State Park. We had decided we needed a present for Spud. Can't go home empty handed after not inviting him to see the doods who sang "Desperado"...and not wanting a full-scale family war, we knew we'd have to bring back an offering of some sort. Cacapon State Park is awesome! It's quiet and almost like a drive back into the fifties. There are lots of little summer cabins - complete with tv, microwave, fridge, stove and fireplace. There's even a lodge you can stay at with a restaurant and game room for the kids with a pool table and air hockey. The best though is a beach on the lake with a little snack shop. All around the place people are walking back to their cabins with towels around their waists, having picnics and playing volleyball. It looked like a great way to spend a weekend. As we drove around we saw the signs to guide you through the park. The last one we saw said "scenic mountain vista." I was game...so was the hubby, so in our little Saturn LS100 we started the climb. While there WAS a sign that said "Scenic Mountain Vista 4.8 miles" - NOWHERE was there a sign that said it was 2300 feet straight up a 1400 foot long goat path. The road was paved until it was not even worth it to turn back. We went past the halfway point, still on the paved road and thought we were almost there so why turn around??? Had we known then....well, we would have seized the moment and turned into the little "parking lot of last resort" and gotten the hell out of there! But no, we continued on. Slowly, almost without our even recognizing it, the road turned to a goat path. It went from paved to stoned to rutted to HUGE limestone rocks jutting out. The car started to complain so we turned off the AC and rolled down the windows and then turned on the heat as the Saturn started to say it was hot AND tired and what the hell were we thinking of? As people came down...in SUV's, pickups, a van and then a dood on a bicycle, we thought about asking them if it was worth it...but given we had to scootch over until we were almost in a ditch to just let them by, we figured we'd keep going. Finally as panic was starting to set in over the ever increasing temperture on the temperature gauge (though let me say for the record, it never went past halfway), we seemed to start going slightly downhill. And the rocks jutting in the middle of the road got worse until I was pretty sure we'd either blow a tire or rip out the exhaust system. But it was at that point that we found the clearing and realized we truly WERE on top of the world. With the AC off, it was a little warm...especially after having the heater on full blast to ease my paranoia over the coolant levels. So we got out to take a look. BEAUTIFUL view. The day was crisp, and only about 70 degrees and truly, you could see four states...Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. The whole undeveloped valley. It was amazing. And like Clark and Ellen Griswald before us who stood and looked for all of five seconds over the Grand Canyon and then said "Let's go" - so did we because I swear to G-d above, there HAD to have been a million gnats who were just WAITING for anyone to get out of their car...and the swarm was on. We got back in the Saturn and rolled up the windows quickly...killed a few that had managed to find their way in. And started down the goat path to civilization. There is no record of our adventure...no Tensing Norgay to attest to it to the world now that we are on terra firma. The Saturn made it down the hill as I swerved and slowed to miss the giant ruts from the spring rains and the huge limestone boulders that would have ripped off our muffler. Nope, only our own memories of the half hour or so that we spent climbing to the "scenic mountain vista" and then back down to Earth again. I am not sure we'd do it again...especially in a little bitty Saturn that pretty much sits on the ground...but it definitely was an adventure, and definitely the kind of which memories are made.