I took my kids to the beach Saturday.
I wore a 2 piece pink number. Can't you picture it? I have a touch of tan and I think hot pink looks really great on tan skin. Awesome, right?
I won't tell you that it's an old maternity swimsuit and that it fits.
While I was relaxing in my chair, diet coke sweating at my side, iPod on shuffle, I heard someone say, "You're gorgeous."
I'm no fool.
There was no way in heck I was going to turn, not even to see who the guy was talking about.
Several hours later, I watched my older boys quickly toss yard tools into the shed, dark clouds bringing night in the middle of the day. I just stood in front of my french doors watching the rain turn my patio furniture cushions from light green to dark green.
Then I saw him. He was standing in the backyard, shirt wet and getting wetter. It was starting to cling to him, highlighting the shape of his shoulders. He called out to me, arms wide open at his sides, "Aren't you going to come outside and kiss me?" It was the same voice from earlier in the day; at the beach.
Without hesitation, I opened the door, stepped out into the rain and did just that.
I shouldn't tell you that after a long, passionate kiss I told him to go in through the garage door; I didn't want him to make a mess of my floors. He grabbed my butt and growled just as I walked away.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Epic
today started out normally.
it may have spiraled down hill after lunch time.
i may have been supressing some frustration with my children and their messy rooms.
in fact, i told them i was handling things well and they should pat me on the back.
i may have gone up stairs and noticed the beanbag in my daughter's room. telling her to keep it in the closet may have been the reason she shifted her weight from side to side and her valiant effort to not roll her eyes.
after a pregnant sigh, i went down stairs.
while attempting to open a kitchen drawer, the one with all of the odd-sized and random kitchen gadgets, i may have flipped out when it wouldn't open all the way.
i may have yanked on it and slammed it shut over and over again while screaming, "i can't take it anymore!"
my older sons, upon hearing my louder than ever voice, appeared in the kitchen. So did my daughter. who propmtly started crying.
gadgets where beginning to pop out of the drawer. i was making slow progress getting it open. my two little boys were eating their sandwiches at the table. they were both laughing at the show.
with all five close by, my previous thoughts that the children were colletively working to bring about my destruction seemed confirmed. i may have turned on them.
i may have told my older sons that some day they would find me dead among their legos because the mess in their room was going to kill me.
i may have told my daughter that i have feelings, too, and her journey to discover her sense of humor was destroying my self esteem.
and, ummm, i may have told them that their behavior may be what causes me to start taking drugs to stay normal.
i know. horrible right?
i added that they were taking years off of my life and diminishing my quality of life with their shortcuts and laziness.
that part i don't feel bad about.
it has been described as "an epic adult tantrum."
and, like a young child after a hugely, ugly fit, i am exhausted.
it may have spiraled down hill after lunch time.
i may have been supressing some frustration with my children and their messy rooms.
in fact, i told them i was handling things well and they should pat me on the back.
i may have gone up stairs and noticed the beanbag in my daughter's room. telling her to keep it in the closet may have been the reason she shifted her weight from side to side and her valiant effort to not roll her eyes.
after a pregnant sigh, i went down stairs.
while attempting to open a kitchen drawer, the one with all of the odd-sized and random kitchen gadgets, i may have flipped out when it wouldn't open all the way.
i may have yanked on it and slammed it shut over and over again while screaming, "i can't take it anymore!"
my older sons, upon hearing my louder than ever voice, appeared in the kitchen. So did my daughter. who propmtly started crying.
gadgets where beginning to pop out of the drawer. i was making slow progress getting it open. my two little boys were eating their sandwiches at the table. they were both laughing at the show.
with all five close by, my previous thoughts that the children were colletively working to bring about my destruction seemed confirmed. i may have turned on them.
i may have told my older sons that some day they would find me dead among their legos because the mess in their room was going to kill me.
i may have told my daughter that i have feelings, too, and her journey to discover her sense of humor was destroying my self esteem.
and, ummm, i may have told them that their behavior may be what causes me to start taking drugs to stay normal.
i know. horrible right?
i added that they were taking years off of my life and diminishing my quality of life with their shortcuts and laziness.
that part i don't feel bad about.
it has been described as "an epic adult tantrum."
and, like a young child after a hugely, ugly fit, i am exhausted.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Review Of Eclipse
His and Her movie critique of The Twilight Saga: Eclipse.
Favorite Scene:
Next.
I liked the moments where Edward showed a little jealousy. That was kind of fun.
Least Favorite Scene:
When Rosalie was human and got hurt. That stuff really bothers me. I know that's not a funny answer, but that I hated that part.
When Bella kissed Jacob. I never understood that in the book either.
Tear Jerker Moment:
When that guy (Riley) was upset because the newborns weren't being subtle. It was sad, you know, he has all these kids and no one was listening. So in the end, he just gave up and said, "Fine. Just clean up when you're done." Any parent can relate to that.
I think the part where Charlie stands up to clap for Bella during graduation.
I was just in Texas with my dad and his side of the family and my aunt pulled me aside. She said its very obvious how much my dad loves me- that you can see his feelings all over his face. So that moment kind of made me think of that.
Eye Rolling Moment:
When Jacob throws his wrench, I mean, chew toy. I thought he was playing fetch with himself.
That's funny.
I think Bella and all of her "No Jacob. Don't! You'll get hurt" crap.
Best Hair:
Charlie
I hated Bella's wig. It was so obvious to me. But best hair, probably Edward. Sometimes it was rad; like I totally loved it. And then other times, it looked really bad. Guys should always have their hair back off their face. Guys with bangs just look lame.
Unless he's Colin Firth.
Who's that?
Best One Liner:
The part where Charlie finds out Edward is going to Florida with Bella. He says something like, "That makes me so happy."
I kind of relate to Charlie, ya know, because besides me, he's the only other person in the movie theatre who thinks everyone else is lame.
Jacob when he said, "Let's face it. I'm hotter than you."
And then, in the same scene, when Jacob told Bella she'd warm up faster if she took off all her clothes. "Survival 101." It's the same line I hear all winter long.
Worst One Liner:
It would have to be from Jacob or Edward. I just have to figure out which one.
Anything from Leah.
Coolest Outfit:
Charlie
Ummm, the clothes aren't even obvious to me.
Info I could have lived without:
The whole movie
When Bella was visiting her mom in Florida, and her mom got up to go and get Bella's gift, I caught a glimpse of a red thong. A glimpse was enough.
Oh yeah, I remember seeing that and thinking, "Oh gross."
I Sure Needed a Whole Lot More:
Reese's Pieces
Kissing on the neck. Kissing period. I love that stuff. I'm such a girl.
Yeah, you are.
Favorite Vampire Moment:
I really don't have any.
I loved during the Edward/Victoria fight, when Victoria goes for Bella and Edward pulls her away. The whole scene actually. The way he protects her. When we got home, Bryan and I were in bed talking about the movie. He asked my fav part and I was talking about this scene. Then I asked him what he would do if someone tried to attack me. He just growled. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I sort of loved that.
You can't tell people about our pillow talk. That's private stuff.
Oh. Ok.
Favorite Werewolf Moment:
I thought the cheesiest one was when they all got together around the campfire and whined about vampires.
I liked how they fought the newborns. And how they are so playful and boyish.
Fav Human Moment:
When Charlie is trying to have "the talk" with Bella.
Yeah, that was good. I also liked Jessica's graduation speech. Why didn't I think of that?
My speech was lame. Very un-epic.
Over All:
Honestly, It was an OK movie. I'll see it again with you. And Ill buy it for you when it comes out. Mostly I like watching you watch the movie. Plus, you can't keep your hands off me when it's over. Ouch! Why'd you hit me?
I loved it because I love the books. Somethings just don't translate and I wish they'd have just left them out of the movies. I think the actors are much better looking on the talk show circuit, when they aren't all bleached out with makeup.
Looking Forward to Seeing...In Breaking Dawn:
Uhh, you?
Bella in feathers. And the labor scene. And the wedding. And Bella as a vampire. And Edward happy.
Favorite Scene:
Next.
I liked the moments where Edward showed a little jealousy. That was kind of fun.
Least Favorite Scene:
When Rosalie was human and got hurt. That stuff really bothers me. I know that's not a funny answer, but that I hated that part.
When Bella kissed Jacob. I never understood that in the book either.
Tear Jerker Moment:
When that guy (Riley) was upset because the newborns weren't being subtle. It was sad, you know, he has all these kids and no one was listening. So in the end, he just gave up and said, "Fine. Just clean up when you're done." Any parent can relate to that.
I think the part where Charlie stands up to clap for Bella during graduation.
I was just in Texas with my dad and his side of the family and my aunt pulled me aside. She said its very obvious how much my dad loves me- that you can see his feelings all over his face. So that moment kind of made me think of that.
Eye Rolling Moment:
When Jacob throws his wrench, I mean, chew toy. I thought he was playing fetch with himself.
That's funny.
I think Bella and all of her "No Jacob. Don't! You'll get hurt" crap.
Best Hair:
Charlie
I hated Bella's wig. It was so obvious to me. But best hair, probably Edward. Sometimes it was rad; like I totally loved it. And then other times, it looked really bad. Guys should always have their hair back off their face. Guys with bangs just look lame.
Unless he's Colin Firth.
Who's that?
Best One Liner:
The part where Charlie finds out Edward is going to Florida with Bella. He says something like, "That makes me so happy."
I kind of relate to Charlie, ya know, because besides me, he's the only other person in the movie theatre who thinks everyone else is lame.
Jacob when he said, "Let's face it. I'm hotter than you."
And then, in the same scene, when Jacob told Bella she'd warm up faster if she took off all her clothes. "Survival 101." It's the same line I hear all winter long.
Worst One Liner:
It would have to be from Jacob or Edward. I just have to figure out which one.
Anything from Leah.
Coolest Outfit:
Charlie
Ummm, the clothes aren't even obvious to me.
Info I could have lived without:
The whole movie
When Bella was visiting her mom in Florida, and her mom got up to go and get Bella's gift, I caught a glimpse of a red thong. A glimpse was enough.
Oh yeah, I remember seeing that and thinking, "Oh gross."
I Sure Needed a Whole Lot More:
Reese's Pieces
Kissing on the neck. Kissing period. I love that stuff. I'm such a girl.
Yeah, you are.
Favorite Vampire Moment:
I really don't have any.
I loved during the Edward/Victoria fight, when Victoria goes for Bella and Edward pulls her away. The whole scene actually. The way he protects her. When we got home, Bryan and I were in bed talking about the movie. He asked my fav part and I was talking about this scene. Then I asked him what he would do if someone tried to attack me. He just growled. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I sort of loved that.
You can't tell people about our pillow talk. That's private stuff.
Oh. Ok.
Favorite Werewolf Moment:
I thought the cheesiest one was when they all got together around the campfire and whined about vampires.
I liked how they fought the newborns. And how they are so playful and boyish.
Fav Human Moment:
When Charlie is trying to have "the talk" with Bella.
Yeah, that was good. I also liked Jessica's graduation speech. Why didn't I think of that?
My speech was lame. Very un-epic.
Over All:
Honestly, It was an OK movie. I'll see it again with you. And Ill buy it for you when it comes out. Mostly I like watching you watch the movie. Plus, you can't keep your hands off me when it's over. Ouch! Why'd you hit me?
I loved it because I love the books. Somethings just don't translate and I wish they'd have just left them out of the movies. I think the actors are much better looking on the talk show circuit, when they aren't all bleached out with makeup.
Looking Forward to Seeing...In Breaking Dawn:
Uhh, you?
Bella in feathers. And the labor scene. And the wedding. And Bella as a vampire. And Edward happy.
Me texting a pic of my pj's to Kelly Foote.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Lucky Me
Yesturday I took the kids to the park. On the way, we all got slurpees.
I had the kids leave their drinks in the car. I had to make a phone just before it was time to leave. When I was done, I called all the kids into the car.
Elliot asked, "Mom, did my slurpee talk to you?"
Me (perplexed): "No. Does your slurpee talk to you?"
Elliot (confident): "Yes."
Me: "What does it say when it talks to you?"
Elliot: "It says, 'You are sooooo lucky' ".
I had the kids leave their drinks in the car. I had to make a phone just before it was time to leave. When I was done, I called all the kids into the car.
Elliot asked, "Mom, did my slurpee talk to you?"
Elliot (confident): "Yes."
Me: "What does it say when it talks to you?"
Elliot: "It says, 'You are sooooo lucky' ".
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
NEWS FLASH: Rachel is a Real Girl.
What kind of books do you like?
I used to read thrillers, exclusively. I've never thought I was much of a girly-girl. I read "Jane Eyre" in 8th grade and really liked it. I felt as plain and boring as Jane. I got her. But romance was not my thing.
Then, on a quick trip to NYC, my sister-in-law recommended a book.
I bought it that day.
On the train ride home, I read it.
It changed my life.
Why, you ask?
Because in reading that romance (and no, not a cheesy Fabio book), I realized I was a real girl (think Pinocchio).
I've never felt overly squeely, girly. I completely h.a.t.e.d the Notebook.
It's a joke that the doctor ordered my hysterectomy when he found out that I wasn't a fan of Nic Sparks.
But I read this book and came to see another side of me.
So, I read another romantic story. And guess what?
I liked that, too!
I have since read a few more. I'm zeroing in on what exactly pulls me into a story so completely that, at times, showering and feeding children become a burden.
I almost have a formula.
What to know what it is? Of course you do.
Take a plain girl.
Put her in a plain environment.
Add an extraordinary suitor.
Keep her ignorant of his almost immediate attraction.
Feel free to give him super human abilities/courage beyond measure.
Give them a chance.
That's it. That's my formula.
Sarah and Capt. Jack are at the top of my list.
Bella and Edward are there, too.
Nothing beats extraordinary falling in love with ordinary.
I should know. it's the story of my life. That's why Kelly Foote says I love this formula.
But c'mon. Don't all girls?
Would Pride and Perjudice be the inspiration for millions of knock offs if I'm the only one?
So tell me something.
1. What books do you recommend I, a freshly realized romantic, read?
2. What's you favorite formula?
I used to read thrillers, exclusively. I've never thought I was much of a girly-girl. I read "Jane Eyre" in 8th grade and really liked it. I felt as plain and boring as Jane. I got her. But romance was not my thing.
Then, on a quick trip to NYC, my sister-in-law recommended a book.
I bought it that day.
On the train ride home, I read it.
It changed my life.
Why, you ask?
Because in reading that romance (and no, not a cheesy Fabio book), I realized I was a real girl (think Pinocchio).
I've never felt overly squeely, girly. I completely h.a.t.e.d the Notebook.
It's a joke that the doctor ordered my hysterectomy when he found out that I wasn't a fan of Nic Sparks.
But I read this book and came to see another side of me.
So, I read another romantic story. And guess what?
I liked that, too!
I have since read a few more. I'm zeroing in on what exactly pulls me into a story so completely that, at times, showering and feeding children become a burden.
I almost have a formula.
What to know what it is? Of course you do.
Take a plain girl.
Put her in a plain environment.
Add an extraordinary suitor.
Keep her ignorant of his almost immediate attraction.
Feel free to give him super human abilities/courage beyond measure.
Give them a chance.
That's it. That's my formula.
Sarah and Capt. Jack are at the top of my list.
Bella and Edward are there, too.
Nothing beats extraordinary falling in love with ordinary.
I should know. it's the story of my life. That's why Kelly Foote says I love this formula.
But c'mon. Don't all girls?
Would Pride and Perjudice be the inspiration for millions of knock offs if I'm the only one?
So tell me something.
1. What books do you recommend I, a freshly realized romantic, read?
2. What's you favorite formula?
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Saturday
If maternity was a fraternity*(1), this would have been hell week.
There was a lot going on during this last week of school. And just the fact that it's the middle of June and my kids are still in school is enough to tick me off. But add to that annoyance dance recital rehearsals, play rehearsals, a science project (yes, we really did extract the DNA from stawberries) and all manner of end-of-year garbage and needless to say, I'VE BEEN SPANKED!
The honest to goodness best part of my Wednesday was getting a filling. It was kind of awesome because I just sat back in the chair and did nothing. The downside was that when I went to get a fresh Double Gulp*(2),
the left half of my mouth was numb and when I'd sip thru the straw, a teeny bit is soda would spurt out. Price you pay....
So come this Saturday morning, I was looking forward to wrapping up all of this madness. I knew today would be hectic:
-get Middle child to his cubscout day camp activity by 8am. Camp is an hour away? Mental note: leave in time for pit stop and diet coke.
-12noon...dance recital for my daughter.
-3pm...musical theatre performance for my daughter. She is Linus in a little vinette of "Charlie Brown".
I knew my husband would be working all day. He has been working almost non stop all month. I had to gently remind him that Sunday is Father's Day and no matter what, he had to be home. With him out of the picture, I had to figure out what to do with my other boys.
5 and 3 are great ages. They are funny and brilliant and loud. These two in particular will tackle each other without any provocation what so ever. And they LOVE potty humor. I have even caught my 3 year old showing a neighbor girl his penis. Yeah for boys!
That considered, I wasn't going to take them to a dance recital and then a play. All totaled, that would be 5 hours of required silence and stillness.
I asked my teenager if he'd stay home with them. He said yes. I didn't even have to bribe.
I was so proud.
So after I dropped cubscout off, I came home and showered and dolled up myself and my tiny dancer.
Going into the dance recital, I knew it would be close. My daughter wasn't scheduled to go on until the last act. She had two dances an one was kind of in the middle of the beginning of the second act, and the other was at the end of the middle of the act. Can you follow that?
I had the good fortune of sitting next to one of my neighbors, Ken. I had the good fortune because Ken's wife was a designated "backstage mom" and she gave me her ticket. As the show was starting, I explained to Ken how I had to leave no later than 2:30 to make it to my daughter's play. We counted the acts and guessed at the amount of time each would take (I said 5 minutes, he said 3. He was right).
All told, if things went off without a hitch, my little ballerina would miss the finale, but at least get to do both her numbers. And with that, the show began.
Recitals are a funny thing. I love to watch the tiny little ones...the ones who spin in the wrong direction, sing/scream at the top of their tiny lungs, or just cry. It's all delightful. I'm not so much of a fan of the free movement dancing where the dancers have pained expressions on their faces- the whole time. Maybe it's because with all that crap make-up and ridiculously bright red lipstick, they know they look bizarre and totally inappropriate. Remind me to tell you about ballroom dancing because that just made me think of something.....
Each time the lights would go down, Ken's 8 year old son would use his pocket flashlight to see who of significance was up. Ken would chat with me about one-dance-studio-town details. We counted how many dances Tracy's (another neighbor) girls were in and he told me that one year she spent $600.
"A month?", I asked.
"On costumes", he replied.
I know, right. W.O.W.
And then the lights would come up and we'd watch these cute girls with smiling, hooker-ish faces.
After a painfully long intermission, we concluded my girly girl would make it thru her ballet number, but it wasn't looking good for jazz. But then, THEN, the dance studio owner restarted the 3 year olds and their "Popeye" number. What the heck...I couldn't help but sigh out loud after several minutes of adjustments and repositioning. Ken tried to be supportive with an occasional, "This is killin' you, huh."
During this impromptu beak in the action, we tallied the cost of lessons and costumes. I won't repeat the total here (my husband may read this) but Ken did mention that I could have taken my little girl to New York City for a fancy girls weekend, including Broadway shows and shopping and pampering for about as much as I had just blown on unperformed dances and unworn costumes.
But, as luck would have it, my Draling Dear made it thru ballet and then I wisked her away to Musical theatre. We had a few franctic moments in the parking lot trying to get all the gunk off of her face. Despite that, we made it to the show in plenty of time.
When she was settled in backstage, I went to my seat and checked in with my teenager. All was well. He and 5 year ols were playing video games.
"And 3 year old? Where's he?"
"Oh, he's asleep on the floor."
Sounded about right.
I hung up the phone and started to reread a favorite book of mine. I was only a few pages into it. And I really was into it. As this horrible scene of violence started to build, I could feel my chest tighten up. I tried to read faster, to get throught the painful part (you have to know that I love Sarah Agnes Prine as much as any real girlfriend and her struggles become my heartache. And right at that moment she was struggling and my heart was breaking). Just as the scene unfolded into a terrible moment, the show started.
That totally sucked.
The show was amazing. The 2 1/2 hours flew by and as my duaghter and I were getting into the car, she asked if I would take her to McDonald's for a mcflurry. All seemed right.
Then, I noticed a new voicemail on my cell.
It was my friend Sasha. My cub carpooled home with her boys. After they dropped my son off, her boys told her how some older boy scouts had tied my cub scout up to a tree and wouldn't untie him even though he told them to stop and had started crying.
I was sick and enraged at the same time.
I called Sasha- got some info.
I called home. My husband had just arrived and knew nothing. I chatted with my son who explained it all to me and I fought back tears listening to his account. I kind of was crying for anyone who has ever been picked on or held against their will. My mother bear was growling and ready for action.
Not long after I hung up with my son, my husband called.
To say he was upset doesn't quite give you a true sense of the anger rolling off of him, pinging off cell towers and somehow, somehow, finding it's way to me.
Let me just say this, my husband and I are a great team. While he would, and could, rip someone's head off*(3) for messing around with his family, I have a bit of a diplomatic streak. When things go wrong, it is always a good idea for me to be the family spokesperson. (I have some really fun examples. But I can't tell you. Sorry.)
Long story made longer, we all came home. We all had scrambled eggs for dinner. Except for my 3 year old who wouldn't sit still. He kept getting up from the table. My husband announced that we would all go and get ice cream after dinner. 3 year old was told again to sit down. He was warned he wouldn't get ice cream if he didn't sit and eat his eggs.
Guess what?
At the ice cream place, while all the kids ordered their tasty treats, I held him while he cried. He was so sad. So was I. I wanted him to have a treat just like his brothers and sister. But I also knew that this was a great chance for him to learn an important lesson: Mom and Dad mean what they say.
He cried some more as we all piled into the suburban. A minute down the road, while a tear still on his cheek, 3 year old said, "Dad, tomorrow I finish my eggs and then get ice cream."
It was a statement of understanding more than anything. And with that, my teenager, sitting next to him, offered him a big scoop of ice cream. It was kind of a beautiful moment.
Really, all these moments: good, bad, painful, sad, whatever...are beautiful. I am extremely grateful for the happy moments, but I know they wouldn't feel the same if the bad ones weren't sprinkled in, too.
And, in case my husband is reading this, there are some bad moments coming. Did I tell you I've been really emotional? And did I tell you I have 2 pimples?
Footnotes:
1. Maybe the greatest sentence I have ever composed. I thought you should know.
2.Yes, it is a proper noun.
3. I picture this happening in an Edward/Twilight sort of way.
There was a lot going on during this last week of school. And just the fact that it's the middle of June and my kids are still in school is enough to tick me off. But add to that annoyance dance recital rehearsals, play rehearsals, a science project (yes, we really did extract the DNA from stawberries) and all manner of end-of-year garbage and needless to say, I'VE BEEN SPANKED!
The honest to goodness best part of my Wednesday was getting a filling. It was kind of awesome because I just sat back in the chair and did nothing. The downside was that when I went to get a fresh Double Gulp*(2),
the left half of my mouth was numb and when I'd sip thru the straw, a teeny bit is soda would spurt out. Price you pay....
So come this Saturday morning, I was looking forward to wrapping up all of this madness. I knew today would be hectic:
-get Middle child to his cubscout day camp activity by 8am. Camp is an hour away? Mental note: leave in time for pit stop and diet coke.
-12noon...dance recital for my daughter.
-3pm...musical theatre performance for my daughter. She is Linus in a little vinette of "Charlie Brown".
I knew my husband would be working all day. He has been working almost non stop all month. I had to gently remind him that Sunday is Father's Day and no matter what, he had to be home. With him out of the picture, I had to figure out what to do with my other boys.
5 and 3 are great ages. They are funny and brilliant and loud. These two in particular will tackle each other without any provocation what so ever. And they LOVE potty humor. I have even caught my 3 year old showing a neighbor girl his penis. Yeah for boys!
That considered, I wasn't going to take them to a dance recital and then a play. All totaled, that would be 5 hours of required silence and stillness.
I asked my teenager if he'd stay home with them. He said yes. I didn't even have to bribe.
I was so proud.
So after I dropped cubscout off, I came home and showered and dolled up myself and my tiny dancer.
Going into the dance recital, I knew it would be close. My daughter wasn't scheduled to go on until the last act. She had two dances an one was kind of in the middle of the beginning of the second act, and the other was at the end of the middle of the act. Can you follow that?
I had the good fortune of sitting next to one of my neighbors, Ken. I had the good fortune because Ken's wife was a designated "backstage mom" and she gave me her ticket. As the show was starting, I explained to Ken how I had to leave no later than 2:30 to make it to my daughter's play. We counted the acts and guessed at the amount of time each would take (I said 5 minutes, he said 3. He was right).
All told, if things went off without a hitch, my little ballerina would miss the finale, but at least get to do both her numbers. And with that, the show began.
Recitals are a funny thing. I love to watch the tiny little ones...the ones who spin in the wrong direction, sing/scream at the top of their tiny lungs, or just cry. It's all delightful. I'm not so much of a fan of the free movement dancing where the dancers have pained expressions on their faces- the whole time. Maybe it's because with all that crap make-up and ridiculously bright red lipstick, they know they look bizarre and totally inappropriate. Remind me to tell you about ballroom dancing because that just made me think of something.....
Each time the lights would go down, Ken's 8 year old son would use his pocket flashlight to see who of significance was up. Ken would chat with me about one-dance-studio-town details. We counted how many dances Tracy's (another neighbor) girls were in and he told me that one year she spent $600.
"A month?", I asked.
"On costumes", he replied.
I know, right. W.O.W.
And then the lights would come up and we'd watch these cute girls with smiling, hooker-ish faces.
After a painfully long intermission, we concluded my girly girl would make it thru her ballet number, but it wasn't looking good for jazz. But then, THEN, the dance studio owner restarted the 3 year olds and their "Popeye" number. What the heck...I couldn't help but sigh out loud after several minutes of adjustments and repositioning. Ken tried to be supportive with an occasional, "This is killin' you, huh."
During this impromptu beak in the action, we tallied the cost of lessons and costumes. I won't repeat the total here (my husband may read this) but Ken did mention that I could have taken my little girl to New York City for a fancy girls weekend, including Broadway shows and shopping and pampering for about as much as I had just blown on unperformed dances and unworn costumes.
But, as luck would have it, my Draling Dear made it thru ballet and then I wisked her away to Musical theatre. We had a few franctic moments in the parking lot trying to get all the gunk off of her face. Despite that, we made it to the show in plenty of time.
When she was settled in backstage, I went to my seat and checked in with my teenager. All was well. He and 5 year ols were playing video games.
"And 3 year old? Where's he?"
"Oh, he's asleep on the floor."
Sounded about right.
I hung up the phone and started to reread a favorite book of mine. I was only a few pages into it. And I really was into it. As this horrible scene of violence started to build, I could feel my chest tighten up. I tried to read faster, to get throught the painful part (you have to know that I love Sarah Agnes Prine as much as any real girlfriend and her struggles become my heartache. And right at that moment she was struggling and my heart was breaking). Just as the scene unfolded into a terrible moment, the show started.
That totally sucked.
The show was amazing. The 2 1/2 hours flew by and as my duaghter and I were getting into the car, she asked if I would take her to McDonald's for a mcflurry. All seemed right.
Then, I noticed a new voicemail on my cell.
It was my friend Sasha. My cub carpooled home with her boys. After they dropped my son off, her boys told her how some older boy scouts had tied my cub scout up to a tree and wouldn't untie him even though he told them to stop and had started crying.
I was sick and enraged at the same time.
I called Sasha- got some info.
I called home. My husband had just arrived and knew nothing. I chatted with my son who explained it all to me and I fought back tears listening to his account. I kind of was crying for anyone who has ever been picked on or held against their will. My mother bear was growling and ready for action.
Not long after I hung up with my son, my husband called.
To say he was upset doesn't quite give you a true sense of the anger rolling off of him, pinging off cell towers and somehow, somehow, finding it's way to me.
Let me just say this, my husband and I are a great team. While he would, and could, rip someone's head off*(3) for messing around with his family, I have a bit of a diplomatic streak. When things go wrong, it is always a good idea for me to be the family spokesperson. (I have some really fun examples. But I can't tell you. Sorry.)
Long story made longer, we all came home. We all had scrambled eggs for dinner. Except for my 3 year old who wouldn't sit still. He kept getting up from the table. My husband announced that we would all go and get ice cream after dinner. 3 year old was told again to sit down. He was warned he wouldn't get ice cream if he didn't sit and eat his eggs.
Guess what?
At the ice cream place, while all the kids ordered their tasty treats, I held him while he cried. He was so sad. So was I. I wanted him to have a treat just like his brothers and sister. But I also knew that this was a great chance for him to learn an important lesson: Mom and Dad mean what they say.
He cried some more as we all piled into the suburban. A minute down the road, while a tear still on his cheek, 3 year old said, "Dad, tomorrow I finish my eggs and then get ice cream."
It was a statement of understanding more than anything. And with that, my teenager, sitting next to him, offered him a big scoop of ice cream. It was kind of a beautiful moment.
Really, all these moments: good, bad, painful, sad, whatever...are beautiful. I am extremely grateful for the happy moments, but I know they wouldn't feel the same if the bad ones weren't sprinkled in, too.
And, in case my husband is reading this, there are some bad moments coming. Did I tell you I've been really emotional? And did I tell you I have 2 pimples?
Footnotes:
1. Maybe the greatest sentence I have ever composed. I thought you should know.
2.Yes, it is a proper noun.
3. I picture this happening in an Edward/Twilight sort of way.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
From the Church of the Poisoned Mind
I felt like posting something. A blog- well, my blog- is totally narcissistic and what ever I want matters. So I went thru my journal I have on my laptop.
I found this:
When I start my own church, I will have golden statues of Edward and Stephenie Meyer will be our patron saint.
Tithing for all Jacob-lovers will be 15%.
If you like Edward and weigh more than me, your tithing will be discounted to 8%.
Your Blasphemous Friend,
Rachel
I found this:
When I start my own church, I will have golden statues of Edward and Stephenie Meyer will be our patron saint.
Tithing for all Jacob-lovers will be 15%.
If you like Edward and weigh more than me, your tithing will be discounted to 8%.
Your Blasphemous Friend,
Rachel
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