|Molly adopted a Flogging bear|
September 21, 2008
WTF, you say? Well here's the 4-1-1.
Friday night on our way to the Flogging Molly concert we saw a black bear. Yeah, really. It ran in front of the car (talk about your Bear Grills, ha ha) from the left to the right side of the road. MB guesses it was 2 or 3 years old as it wasn't fully grown.
This was not three miles from our house. BEARS...live up north, you know in Minnesota, the Dakotas, Maine, Wyoming, the Pacific NW and all points north. NOT in the backwater swamps of coastal South Carolina, right? I would have dismissed some one else telling me this as delerium tremens or a bad acid trip. I can't rightly do that as I saw it with my own eyes.
The concert was really cool. Heretofore, I had only heard Flogging Molly on CD and the rave of a couple of friends. Never one to dismiss music made by my kinspeople, we checked it out. Count 'em, no less that four kilt sightings and an awesome t-shirt which read, "I am half Scot and half Irish, I get drunk and fight with myself." In my opinion the person who stole the show was the raven-haired lass who blew up their sound with a smokin violin and a tin whistle. MB and I spent a lot of time people watching. There was a man there with his four maybe five year-old son and they were crazy dancing fools. It was so cute to watch. When we went back downstairs we saw a youunger man who despite his title would give Michael Flatley a run for his money. Seriously, this guy was using the concert as a venue to establish himself as the undisputed Lord of the dance.
Daughter recieved a packet of information from an adoption agency. She filled out the questionnaire/health report/personal history and is giving this option some serious consideration. I am abivalent about it. Most of the time I think it's a good idea considering her situation. However, in the still small hours and deep in my heart I worry if this is the right option.
I know it's not my decision to make, but I'm trying to look down the road to a place where I'm not sure she can see and determine if she'll have made the right choice. The truth is, I can't see it either. I don't know. Only in my mind I can imagine some person showing up at my door years from now looking for her saying they're the child she gave up. It seems melodramatic and all too realistic all at the same time.
I just have to support whatever she thinks is best and live with it. I have made choices regarding my future with MB and it would be extrememly difficult for me to help her as much as I would like. It conflicts me, but there has to come a time where I cannot live for my children anymore. They're grown people and they need to make their own choices. I have to respect that and trust them to act in their own best interest. No one tells you when the kids are small that letting them be who they really are is the hardest of all. They'll ask you for help when and if they need it.
Meanwhile, my house has been overrun with Little Tykes stuff, Bob the Builder cartoons and sippy cups. I have the world's cutest budding percussionist, toddling about the place. I really like having him here.