When I Dance, You Dance.

This evening I put my headphones on, turned the Ipod up and chopped veggies in preparation for the big soiree tomorrow. With the hubby glued to the Michigan game, I blasted my eardrums and became absorbed in melodies.

Then, her tiny hands wrapped around my legs and I felt Nonie hugging me from below.
Up. She was up. (Not sleeping). Way up. And it was 10pm.

I carried about with my work as she dragged her stool across the kitchen. She placed it in front of the sink, hoisted herself up on it and sat. She was fascinated with my slicing, dicing, peeling, scooping - though I never really looked straight at her - I watched her peripherally. Is that a word? It is now.

I wasn't thinking about vegetables - I was actually thinking about Mom and her halloween birthday.

More specifically I was remembering the card Chris got for her when we were little that had a picture of a lost kid talking to a police officer on the front with the quote,

"Have you seen my mother?"

And on the inside of the card the police officer is scratching his head and saying,

"I don't know, there are so many places she could be hiding."

At some point during all this, I clearly started dancing to the music funneling into my head. And when I'm chopping veggies - boy, can I drop a beat. And so can Nonie.

Nonie, when I Dance, You Dance
(even when you can't hear the music).

And before long I was back to thoughts about Mom and her Halloween Birthday.
With Mom I laugh, hope, cry, learn, complain, love, question, and dream.
With her I explore the "Whys" and the "Hows" and find the strength to believe in the "What ifs".
And my mind raced with memories and highlights, all the times I turn to Mom for the missing piece...

And as I replay my childhood memories I see that:

When I Laugh, She Laughs.
When I Cry, She Cries.
When I Question, She Questions.
When I Dream, She Dreams.

And of course Mom,
When I Dance, You Dance.
Because, you are my music.

Happy Birthday.

I Now Pronounce You....

When we were in the pre-cana process of getting married we were told that marriage was a sacrament that we gave to each other. The priest and our family and friends were all witnesses as we exchanged our vows to one another. It was a beautiful, life-altering moment. And when you took the time out of the craziness that a wedding can be, thinking about that moment is grounding.
The priest, chaplain, minister, presider over the vows "pronounces" you as a couple. For better or worse, richer, poorer, sickness, and health. But the pronouncement was not for us. We had lived the moment. The pronouncement was for others.


Today I was the presider, the official, the witness. Today I made the pronouncement.


I watched a husband die, and a wife greave. I was witness to what might have been their most intimate moment. I heard words whispered that were loving and heartbreaking.
"I love you." "You are the best husband." "What will I do without you."
I pronounced him. After she had hugged and kissed and cried over his body.
After his son had a moment to hold his hand. After he had his moment with God and his wife, and his family.


I was not new to this. Not death. Not loss or sadness. Not the love of family.
I was to be there as the official.
I was trying not to cry, and mourn and breakdown.
I tried not to cross certain boundaries, but show my empathy at the same time.
And I did. For a brief period of time. Before I lost it.
As soon as I signed my papers and finished my "official" business I got in my car and wept.
And I picked up X and wept.
And I drove home and wept.


And I don't have any answers, and I don't have reassurances, but I feel blessed to have witnessed what I have.
And it brought me back to our wedding. And our "official" beginning. In the church.
And our other beginning, on the top of a mountain where we got engaged.
And our real beginning, on 9/11/01 when our lives merged. And how love grows into something so amazing and complex, it is atsounding and awesome and overwhelming.




And my brain reels with these thoughts as I drive to the gym to run, I hear this on the radio:














And that was my day.

"Hat Trick"-or-Treat Eating.

On Saturday, moments before his soccer game, Dec declared that he'd score three goals for Aunt Lily. It seems he's always trying to impress her.
Pretty aggressive chatter. But he did it. Scored One. Two. Three.
Hat Trick!

And on a remarkably similar note: Last Wednesday I bought 2 ginormous bags of candy and promised myself that I wouldn't open them until Halloween.
And I did it. I didn't open them. I just opened and ate one (entire bag). So far.
Treat Eating!

Nothing like setting goals to keep us focused, motivated and striving for excellence ....

* A note about the pic: this is Dec practicing his breast stroke, on the soccer field, while accomplishing his promised hat trick. He'll pretty much do anything to get Willy's attention.

Good vs trying to be good but falling a little bit short of goodness...

I really love Saturdays. I try to relax, but mostly I use my time at home to clean and organize places in the house that have NEVER been cleaned (sorry closet under the stairs, you are scary and full of spiders and I only go in you if absolutely necessary).

And I do try to play and be FUN, but Xave also does a REALLY good job at being 2.

The morning cuteness and sleepiness wears off as soon as daddy leaves to go to the football game.

I try to ignore "batty", but as soon as he is standing ON my computer smashing "batty" into it I lose it. Batty gone.

And as quickly as it happened we are sitting together eating pancakes and syrup.

And so the day goes.

Cleaning windows and removing screens (i.e. more spider webs).

X playing golf.

Attempting to blow some of the leaves.

X in my arms.

Cleaning the garage/basement/organizing recycling.

X taking all the styrofoam inserts from the boxes and turning them into potty seats while removing all the clothing from his lower half?! (peepee here mom?) ummm sure, is this in the potty training books?

Cleaning the gross light fixtures I never would have purchased in 1,000,000,000 years but am stuck with for the interim.

X watching football on mute/listening to classical music.

Cooking dinner, waiting for daddy.

X chewing carrots/meatballs/sweet potatoes and spitting them back out.

X dancing to classical music.

X playing Connect 4 with us after dinner.

X wanting to be read every book in sight.

X falling asleep, head off couch, face down, completely comfortable.

BTW, "batty" was returned. He used it in the car to Declan's soccer game to turn the over head lights on.... and off.....and on.....and off......and on..........................

Feeling Blue.

I thought I knew blue
until I met my husband.


And then blue was defined.


Blue.
Defined.




In one man's eyes.

but I always take the long way home

I had a pretty freaky ride home from work today starting at the highway exit ramp because a cop car followed me from there through town. I know it's not a huge deal. I'm not 16. I get it. However, the speed limit goes from 40 to 50 to 40 to 30 in about a 1/2 mile span and that can be very stressful especially when you're deciding what you want to listen to the on radio.

But that's not even the really freaky part.
Get this.

Who's the genius behind this one?
This is the scarecrow outside the gas station.

Drake saw this the other morning on our run.
Picture this: 5:30 am. Pitch black. Cold morning. Throwing away our poop bag in the garbage can.
See absolute sketchiest scarecrow ever.
Drake barks.
So we turn right and head down the street and a newspaper delivery car shines its lights on a garbage can.
What would you do?
I mean...
what would you do if you were a dog and just had yourself freaked by a zombie gas-pump scarecrow in the pitch black?
Would you bark at the garbage can for a minute?
Yes, you would.

There is another freaky scarecrow down the street hanging from a tree. I think there are laws against that. I hereby declare that I no longer like scarecrows. Another simple-ton one down the street in front of a lovely red house is headless. I don't care if they are just harvesting their pumpkin. Don't put a headless, tree-hanging, zombie gas-pumping scarecrow in front of your home or business when I am being followed home by a police officer while trying to find a good song on the radio.

Look at the Stars.

The other night Dame came home from a school budget meeting - a budget forum. (Yawn).

He was the best parent to send to this district-wide meeting and it made me feel like we were doing our household share by having him in attendance.

Plus, the meeting was held in the cafeteria of his old high school so I think he secretly wanted to be there. Or at least, this is what I told myself as I sat wrapped in a cozy blanket and sipped a warm cup of de-caf tea. At home.

I was somewhat startled by the sheet that he nonchalantly dropped on our kitchen counter after the meeting.

One of the areas the district is scrutinizing is transportation (busing) and the document indicated that "NY State law governs the maximum mileage that a district may require students to walk to school is 2 miles for K-8."

It goes on to indicate that "the school district community voted to reduce the maximum limits to .5 miles for K-8."

WHAT?!?!

****

On the same day, I got an email from Dec & Nonie's dental practice about Halloween candy indicating that they will "collect unopened candy (no bites please) on Tues Nov 2nd from 8-5 pm. Candy will be sent to the Troops serving our Country. For every pound collected our Ghosts and Goblins will earn $1 per pound and receive an electric glowing toothbrush!"

I'm sorry but, WHAT?!?!

****

Then there was the silent Saturday Soccer notice we got about parents being discouraged from talking (at all. to anyone.) at their children's soccer games and practices. You know, out of respect for the players... this one Saturday was devoted to silence.

So, sidelines sat quiet while
Players scored on the wrong goals.
Confused corner kicks.
And silently played a game of quiet soccer.

Just that one Saturday though, the rest of the season parents are allowed to shout at the kids from the sidelines.

What?!?
****

That very same day I had my recurring thought that I have (no lie) every day. This is the one thought that grounds me and forces me to not take myself too seriously. It is clear as day:

I picture God laughing.
I can just see God laughing at the crazy world. At us.
Laughing.
At all of us here on Earth.
I picture God looking down from above with the thought:
Really?
That is what you've all done with the wonderful world I gave you?
You worry about walking too far, eating sweets, coaching kids from the sidelines, and spend hours with your heads focused on electronic gadgets.
Really?
That is not at all what I'd envisioned for you. My people.
You're zooming from here to there in the blink of an eye and barely connecting with the incredible people I've surrounded you with.
You're worrying about money, social status, houses, cars, vacations, and all the things I never comprehended when I set you all down on that magnificent planet in the first place?

Really?
That's what you've done with all that I gave you?


****
The other morning we woke the kids early to head to Vermont.

It was well before sunrise and Dec was the first I scooped to carry out to the car.
During my first few trips to the car with snacks, books, clothes... I'd noticed the sky was glowing with stars. I paused. For the first time in a long time a gazed at the night sky and marveled at it.

In the moments it took to get Dec wrapped in Ba-Ba, snuggled under my chin and down the stairs, I had told him once and then reminded him two more times to be sure to look at the stars in the night sky once we were outside and heading toward the car.

The night was brilliant. It was vast. And I had been suddenly reminded of how seldom I venture out with the kids to look at it.

Just as we stepped out the door and as the crisp air circled us, Dec immediately lifted his head and looked up.

And I relaxed and found peace because I just knew he was seeing what I'd hoped he would see.


****

It is a really different world they live in. My sweet children.
Far different from the one I grew up in.
I ate every last piece of my Halloween candy as a kid.
And I know I walked far to bus stops and friend's houses.
(That was part of the fun).
And I'm not sure how'd I've improved as a soccer player without my Dad embarrassing me from the sidelines during games.

Sometimes I feel so helpless because I know there is no turning back.
And I get caught up thinking that our systems (most of them anyway) are fundamentally flawed (For example, if we ask kids to walk 2 miles - that's great - but AT LEAST provide sidewalks.).

I often conclude that there is nothing I can do to turn things back to the good old days.

But then I turn to the stars - and am comforted.
I turn toward the stars and I know.

The same night sky that I would turn to as a child for answers, hope, and inspiration
will always be there for my own children in their search for the same.

I Look at the Stars.
And when I take time to do this simple, simple thing
I feel in my heart that

God's laughter stops.