NYE

It occurs to me as I sit here at my desk that G and I have spent over 25 New Years Eves together. That's a whole lotta of auld lang synes. Although he insists that the thought of being together MUST have occurred to me already, he "professed his undying love" for me on New Years Eve at Michael Dorsey's house in 1990. (Well, as much as a 20-year-old in a NKOTB t-shirt can do.) Truthfully, the thought had never occurred to me. But the minute he spoke a few words, it became painfully clear to me that I had missed something that was right in front of me the whole time. We got engaged on New Years Eve in 1996. We were with our best friends in Newton. I was completely surprised. To this day, that still bothers him. He says "damn (and by that I mean WTF), you mean I still had a little bit of time left?" (As if six years wasn't time enough?!) Going back in the Way Back Machine, my parents were on their way to a NYE party in 1971, when I decided that being born three months early would be a good idea...clearly they didn't make it to champagne and Mr. Dick Clark that year. I was so premature (and remember this was a looooong time ago), my parents didn't even get a new fridge or toaster oven for having one of the first babies born in 1972. They weren't sure if I'd survive - who was in the mood for celebrating? Clearly, all's well that ends well. But I'm sure they'd have liked a new appliance or two. ... Talk about making an entrance. In any event, NYE has always meant a lot to me. No matter where you are, no matter what you do, be safe tonight. Be with folks that you care about and that care about you. Be happy and kind. Be the best person you can be. Tonight and always. Here's to a New Year. B'bye 2013. It's been an adventure.

Merry Christmas

Today, I got a glimpse of the best Christmas present ever. 
If you know what I'm talking about, you know what I'm talking about.
If you don't, believe me - 
Best. Gift. Ever. 

Sorry for being vague.  You all know I don't like when folks do that (especially on facebook) but that's the way it is this time 'round.

It's taking all I have to not scream of my glee from the facebook rooftops. 

Instead, I'll just never. stop. smiling.

O Christmas Tree

Three-year-old Maddie's handprint. Love.
The glittery pine cone I made with my mom when I was five.
The Nutcracker from Corey.  He was my student fifteen years ago.  I wonder where he is now.
The "Merry Christmas In Your New Home" sparkly house.  Our house isn't so new anymore.  But it still is merry.
Hannah's kindergarten photo in the middle of a handmade frame.  What a little babe.
The mini Diet Coke can.
The one that goes front and center each year - a photo of H and M when they were two weeks old, stuffed in to a red box with bows on their heads.  (My mom was a little bit obsessed with ridiculous photos of them back then.  It makes us giggle every time we see it.)

H and M's special ones mailed from Santa each year.
Baby's First Christmas ones in pairs.
My pug.
Too many to count from a family near and dear to us. 
There's something about a Christmas tree. 
So many ornaments.  So many stories.
It's hard to explain. But if you have one, I think you understand.

Just Keepin' It Real

This morning, we were down a car so I asked my mom to pick up the girls and me and bring us to school and work respectively. As I sat in her passenger seat, I couldn't stop looking at her feet. They worked the gas and brake pedals like nobody's business. I just couldn't believe that she was driving again. And so easily. And comfortably. I was so proud of her. She looked like a million bucks. And she even had the time to do her hair and make-up. So proud. ... Then ... I looked again and saw that she had on black pants, black shoes ... and white socks. I guess even miracles make fashion faux pas every now and again. It's a good thing she loves me - otherwise, I think she'd have thrown me out of the car.

Apples and Oranges

August 17, 2013-November 17, 2013
 
During these three months, I have:

...
...
um...well, I ...ah ...
oh right, remember that time when I ...
and, of course there was the day when they told me that I couldn't...
...
well, I think I sort of did that thing when I ...
...wait a minute!  I remember now.  I did the...
I'm pretty sure that when I had the ... um ... you know the ...
...well, I guess now that I think of it, I've not accomplished all that much.
Humph for me.

During these three months, my mom:

was on a boat and hit a wave. The boat went down, she went up and when she landed, she lost the ability to move or feel from the waist down.
was med-flighted/airlifted from the cape to Tufts Medical Center
had a successful surgery but was told that she may not walk again.
Yup.  I said that. 
left the hospital and Spaulding Rehab in record time and has been working her arse off to get better each minute.
didn't listen to anyone who said "you can't", "maybe you shouldn't", "I don't know if", or "I don't think you're ready to"...
is determined, each day, to do something that she's not been able to do the day before.
continues to "wow"her physical therapist each week.
has been told by her surgeon and neurologist that she is a "miracle".
Yup.  I said that.
is walking, driving, cooking and working.
Oh, and last night, she and my dad went to a big shin dig for my dad's work in Boston and ... um ... she danced.

That's what she's done in three months.

Do you feel like as much of a loser as me?

A-MAZ-ING.
Yup.  I said that.

Giving Thanks

You know those toy cars that, when they bump up against a wall, they flip around and do whatever they need to do to keep moving forward? Well, that's my mom. And on another note, as I was driving in to Boston last night, I was thinking of this year's Thanksgiving grace. ...lots to be thankful for this year, folks. Lots to be thankful for.

Insert {Happy Dance} Here

Today is the day that my mom KNEW it would be. My dad had his doubts. (I have to admit that I did too.) MY MOM'S BACK BRACE IS OFF! THE BRACE IS OFF! THE BRACE IS OFF! Dad and Mom were talking to the surgeon today and there was an intern in the room. Dr. Weller was going over the specifics of the accident, the surgery, her recovery etc. and again, called her a "miracle". I'm sorry, folks, but that will never get old to me. That just doesn't happen every day! He said that in three months (her next appointment), she'll likely be 80%. By August (a year from the accident), she'll be at her "new normal", whatever that may be. Here's to hoping that her "new normal" and her "old normal" are the same...she apparently isn't very good at taking "no" for an answer so I'm feeling as if that might be the case. He did say that the neuropathy (horrific pain and discomfort in her feet) may not get any better. For many patients it does. However, due to the specifics of her specific injury, surgery and recovery, he's not feeling so hopeful. However, her response (of course) is "I don't believe him." And off she'll go - kicking ass. To be continued... I remember a day when I took my Usher Dupey (my mom's dad) to the hospital years ago. I can't remember the specifics (I think I blocked a lot of the day from my mind) but he hadn't been able to eat anything solid in quite a while. After a given amount of time, he had a follow-up appointment and he was sure that he was going to get the go-ahead to eat normally again. I can see him so vividly sitting in the doctor's office as the doctor told him that his body just wasn't ready yet. He was so defeated. So sad. So disappointed. That is one of the worst memories of my life and even though he eventually was fine again, it still makes me so sad to think of it. I never wanted to see him like that again. (Thankfully I didn't.) If I had to see my mom feel that same way, I don't know what I would do. I was worried that my mom would have one of those days today. I was so afraid that she'd be told that her body wasn't ready yet. Selfishly, I was glad that I was not the one to bring her to her appointment today. (Nice daughter I am, huh?) But now that THE BRACE IS OFF!!!, I see that, really, we have nothing to worry about. She has it all under control. We just need to watch her work her magic.

Par-Tay. Well, Not Really

I just picked up the bouncy house for the girls.
Now to keep it a surprise until Sunday.

What is it with me and surprises?  I don't like to be surprised all that much.  I have no idea why I am completely obsessed with surprising M and H. (If you are with me on a regular basis, you know what I mean.  If you are not with me on a regular basis, consider yourself lucky - for many reasons.)

Anyway, I am loving the idea of the girls' bday this year.  They will be 11 on 11/11.  At 11:20 and 11:22.   Too bad it's not 2011. (Poor planning on our part.)

Anyway, they have rehearsal on Sunday and so, before and after, some FSPA buds are coming over.  Really, that's the whole day.  We have nothing officially "birthday-ish" planned.  It's not even a "birthday party".  They've never really been fans of having "birthday parties".  In fact, the last one they had was when they were in first grade, I think.  Maybe even kindergarten.  We got home and they agreed that it was fun but really nothing they had to do again.  It didn't take much more than that to convince us.  Money saved.  Thanks, girls.

This day will be no different than any other time they have this crew come over.   (Well, except for the bouncy house. I guess we don't typically have that parked out back.  Other than that, I mean).

But really, they'll make countless action movies and music videos.  They will ask their buddy, J, how "life on the road" is. (He's playing "Chip" in Beauty and the Beast and, as luck would have it, is home for three weeks.  How terribly convenient!  They are so excited for him but can't wait for his run to be over so that he can come home again!!)

They will all dance (and bounce) and sing (and bounce) and eat cake and pizza (and bounce).  The shin-dig will be interrupted because they all have to go to rehearsal at FSPA for a bit and then they'll all come back and hang (and bounce) some more.  (And if it rains, ah well.  It's the thought that counts.)

It's sure to be the easiest, no fuss, day ever.  In fact, we probably won't see them at all - except to drive them to and from FSPA.  And even then, they won't pay all the much attention to us.  Isn't that what "11" is, after all?  Mom and Dad Who?

I love that they don't feel the need to make a big deal about their b-day.

I'd like to think that they feel that way because every day is a party.  Why shouldn't it be when you're 11?

And on a completely unrelated note, I'm home early today.  I am equally in love with Rob Lowe and Ellen Degeneres.

Love

2 kids + 2 grandparents + weekend = happiness
1 wife + 1 husband + weekend (without kids) = happiness
(No offense, kids...)

Win (for them).  Win (for them).  Win (for us).

Every time we had a moment last week, our conversation inevitably ended up with something like "remember that Nonie WANTS to be 1,807 mph as she's used to.  But she's not (just yet)."

"We know.  Don't worry."

But we did.  I didn't talk to my mom today (and only talked to her for a bit yesterday).  I'm sure she was beyond exhausted.  And yet, she'd never complain.  Love.

This weekend, for H, M and my parents, was just what it "should" be.  Not because anyone expects it to be but just because that's how they've always done "their weekends" for years.  Going here.  Going there.  Shopping here, there and everywhere.  Movies.  Dinners out.  Take out.  Church.  FSPA.  Staying up late.  Cooking.  You name it.  They do it.  This weekend was something that I wasn't sure they'd ever be able to do again.  And they did it.  M and H haven't stopped smiling.  And so, neither have we.  Love.

Every time we talked to the girls, they regaled us with more and more stories.  It made my heart smile.  Love. 

And while they were having a blast and a half, so were we.  Love.

We started the weekend by celebrating the beginnings of a theater downtown, "The Black Box."  Although I have nothing to do with the why's, how's or what's of this black box, I am infinitely proud of all those that do.  Their determination and "don't take no's" are a lesson to watch and admire.  I am beyond excited for this and can't wait for this next chapter.  We celebrated this night with friends, many of whom we consider family.  While so many there asked where my parents were, I knew that they were just where they belong.  As much as they'd have liked to have joined in the festivities, they (at that point) were home in the pjs, eating popcorn, cuddling and watching movies with "the rugrats" aka "the goobers".  Love.

The next day, G and I hit the road for Newport, one of our favorite places, to celebrate out 16th anniversary.  As horrifyingly old as that makes me feel, we had a blast (as I knew we would).  I can only liken myself to the Hungry Little Catepillar.   We just kept eating and drinking our way across the city.  With all of Newport Restaurant Week at our disposal all day and night, I opted to end the night with six powdered mini-donuts from 7eleven as we walked home.  Sometimes I love myself with my choices.  The weather was gorg, the food (including the 99 cent donuts) and drink yum and the company quite great as well.  (As much as I say he drives me nuts - and I'm sure he does the same of me - we're really a match made in Heaven.  I don't know who else would put up with either of us!!)  Love.

Our bed and breakfast was perfect, minus the woman I yelled at at 8am.  (I can't do the story justice here.  The next time you see me, ask.  I'll still be fired up about her.  Idiot.)  Other than this dumbass...Love.

We came home on Sunday, picked up the girls and off I went to spend the afternoon with my oldest and dearest buds (minus one).   We pick up where we left off.  Every single time.  Love.

Today, it was sadly back to reality.  Don't get me wrong.  My daily grind's not all that stressful.  But it's weekends like this that make you want to rewind and do it all over again.  Love.

Except for the dumbass...don't want to do that over again.  (Although seeing G's face after I yelled at her...that'd be fun to see again.) 

Love (with a little splash of crazy).

Bits and Pieces

As we sit here and watch (what is hopefully the last game of the season), I can't help but think of how funny I find it that Guy refuses to believe that I was a good softball player when I was younger.  I was, in fact, an All-Star second base/shortstop.  I also - ahem - batted fourth.  Anyway, it's sort of a running joke between us.  Most folks likely are surprised by my softball prowess.  (I clearly used up all my sportsmanship before I hit puberty.)

You may also be surprised by this:  (and I'm pretty sure that I've already written a blog like this so pardon.)

I can name an embarrassing number of WWF wrestlers from the 1980's.

I only eat certain foods (like strawberries, grapes and cookies) in multiples of two.

I hate (and actually get nervous) when I have to make coffee.

I also am equally unnerved when I have to drive with other adults in the car.

It would take a lot of will power to leave my house in the morning with my bed unmade or with dirty dishes in the sink.

If I could dress every day like someone in a movie, it'd be Natalie Portman's character in "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium."

I could quite easily eat an entire pound of macaroni or a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream in a sitting.  (And I said "or" not "and" - don't get that grossed out.)  But don't dare me.

The feel of dirty feet nauseates me.

One of my favorite movies is "Mommy Dearest".

I haven't thrown up since I was nine.

New office supplies make me giddy.  (Especially those colored erasers that you put on the ends of pencils.)

The idea of getting dressed up in a Halloween costume and going to a party makes me so stressed out I nearly break out in hives at the mere thought.

I sleep with a bat under the bed when Guy is away.

I still have all the notes my mom put in my lunches since junior high.

If I didn't do what I do, I'd love to be an interior decorator.  Or someone who prepares food for cooking demos and magazine covers.  Or a hostess at Pipinelle's but that ship has sailed.  (And there's only room in my heart for one Pip's hostess anyway...)

Other than during my driving lessons, I've never needed to parallel park (even in my parking test.)
Well, that's not true.  There are times when I need to...I just keep driving until I no longer need to...(I also helped a dear bestie pass her driving test while flirting with her guy in the front seat so he wouldn't notice how bad she was at parallel parking.)

In high school, I really and truly wanted to marry in to the mob.  Thank goodness I had a change of heart. 

Nearly every day, I wish I was in training for another marathon.

I have never, not once, wished we'd had another baby after H and M.

I've never tried relish or fluff.  And I never will.

I was so angry at my (then newly ex-boyfriend at the time) that I kicked my foot through our cellar door.  (I think that, secretly, my dad was so proud.)

I've never gone on a job interview or needed to prepare my own resume.  (Although I'm pretty sure I'd kick ass on both.)  Hopefully, I'll never need to find out.

And on that note, there are going to be a lot of tired Bostonians heading in to work tomorrow.  GO SOX!

Sibs and Sox

My aunt/godmother is visiting for a few days from North Carolina.  She and my uncle/her brother made a bet early this summer that if the Sox made it to the World Series, she would travel up from NC and they'd go to a game together.  Neither one of them wanted to jinx anything so I don't think they talked about it much after the initial conversation.  Needless to say, as I type this, the Sox are trailing 1-0.  Surely, I hope they win.  But either way, that they (especially my uncle) are at a Sox World Series game, brings me such joy.  He has been a HUGE fan of the game (he's a bit freakish - and I mean that in the nicest way possible) for his entire life, surely as long as I can remember.  My aunt is a huge fan as well and I love that they are there together.

This alone, should be making me smile tonight.  But it's really what happened before they left for the game that is really making me smile.

I met up with my uncle and aunt and mom today out for lunch. Three siblings that, in some ways, couldn't be more different from each other.  And yet, three siblings that rock the world when they are together.  Seeing them together makes my heart smile.  Honestly, my stomach hurt from laughing at the three of them today.  It was awesome. 

A few months ago, to say we didn't think the Sox would be in the World Series is an understatement. 
A few months ago, to say we didn't think my mom would be eating lunch out at a restaurant is an even bigger understatement.

H and M's first fear spoken was "will Nonie be able to teach us how to cook ever again?"
My first fear was "will she be able to come to a piano recital again?"  My second thought was "how will we ever 'go out' with ease again?"  Now that I think of it, it's funny.  We don't even "go out" all that often.  We are definitely a stay-in and hang with family and friends crew. However, I just couldn't imagine how we'd do it.

And yet, two months after the worst day of our lives, my mom (TMM, for those of you who have been following her journey) is rocking the world - walking, working, driving, and "going out" again.

Life's not the same as it was.  But it is pretty close.  (Well, I guess she'd beg to differ with regards to that statement.  And she has every right to - and then some.)  But it WILL be.  I honestly believe that, next year at this time, this will be a memory.

A shitty memory. But a memory, nonetheless.

And a memory of a ridiculously brave mom.  And an amazing dad who has not left her side.  Not for a minute.  (Even when they both are driving each other nuts!!)

As I typed this last bit, the Sox went up 2-1.  That's gotta mean something.

A-Ok

I love when our children start a conversation with 

"I have something to ask you and it's okay if you say no."  

Oh, okay.  Thanks for giving me your permission.

Phew.

Best Sister

They do most everything together. They are inseparable. By circumstance and by choice. What one gets, the other one gets. Be it a shirt, a new friend, a night out on the town or a cold. That's the only life they know. They wouldn't want it any other way. Earlier this week, M was given a super cool opportunity in FPAC's upcoming production of "Les Miserables." (On a side note, have you bought your tickets? If not - and you live locally - I can't imagine what you are waiting for. It is going to be amazing.) Anyway, I have to say that as much as watching and hearing M do her little bit in the show makes me want to cry, H's reaction to M's opportunity makes me want to cry more. Sure she's bummed. (She said so.) Sure she's jealous. (She said so.) But she's good with it. (She said so.) And she truly is. We told her that "it is what is is." All H needs to do is keep doin' what she's doin'. All M needs to do is keep doin' what she's doin'. Whatever happens in life - you just do what you do, do your best and know that at the end of the day, that's all that really matters. And as M does her little thing this weekend, there will be NO ONE in the audience rooting for M as much as "the sister" is. I can promise you that. These two. They're good little eggs.

Two and a Half Seconds

I learned a long time ago that taking a minute to chat with someone in passing, sending a quick note, or picking up the phone to tell someone you were thinking of them often makes a big difference - to everyone involved. Lord knows I don't do it enough but I know that I should. And doesn't that count for something? Yesterday, on facebook, a friend and I were going back and forth about how I found out that there was no Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. (I'm still holding out for The Tooth Fairy.) While I don't remember the details, I'm pretty sure that I found out through a casual converation at the bus stop. She flipped when she found out that she was the one that spoiled it for me. I assured her that there was no need to worry - especially considering I was, like, 22 (give or take a few years...) Anyway, her mom commented on the thread as below. This simply made my day to read it this morning. Now, any "normal" person would be tickled pink with the comment and end it at that. My mom, I'm sure, while thrilled at the comment, will immediately start to stress out - "oh God, my house isn't beautiful anymore! I have to do something! I have to make something! SO many people drive by. Do you think they think that it used to be really nice but now it's not? Tell me what needs to be changed!" And on and on and on. My poor dad. Anyway, here's what she said. "Hi Kim, your mom was amazing!! I remember your house on Halloween!!!! As well as all the other major Holidays! I was in awe, as was the rest of Franklin, I'm sure!!! I used to ride by on purpose. How could you not believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa when your house was practically magic!!!" LOVE. It was so nice of her to take the two and a half seconds to write it. It will make me smile for far longer than that.

To Have and To Hold

Forty-two years ago, the stars were aligned, the world was forever changed, and life as we (or at least I) know it began.

It actually happened years before that.  I don't even know how old they were when they first met.  Junior high?  I should know.  I think I'll have to ask - again. One of their best friends who remembers EVERYTHING is on vacation.  I'll have to have a sit down again and get the deets from her when she returns.

September 24, 1971 - my mom and dad got hitched.  He was 20.  She was 18.  Babes. 

One of my favorite stories is when my dad learned who my mom's father was. "Your dad is the guy who works down the alleys?"  "Yes.  Why?"  "Oh, no reason."
But I'm sure his face said it all.  He had given my grandfather (and countless others) grief for years, pushing the envelope "just enough".  Not so much to ever really get in trouble but enough to be a pain in the ass.  (They say you often marry someone like your father.  Um - yep.)

They were so young when I was born, most of their friends didn't have children for years.  For this reason (and maybe because I was an only child), I spent a lot of time with my parents and their friends while I was growing up.  These relationships are a huge part of who they are today.  These relationships are a huge part of who I am today, for that matter.  They are still friends with nearly everyone who was in their lives then.  This, I think, speaks to what incredible people they are.  If you are no longer in their lives for whatever reason, it's your bad.  Your loss.  You are truly a better person with these two by your side.  Just ask anyone.  You'll get the same response.

Their loyalty to their family and friends is unprecedented.  Their loyalty to each other is even greater.

For as long as I can remember, they have taught me (whether they realized it or not) how to be married.  Good, bad and otherwise, these folks know how to do it.  No one is perfect (although I surely pretend to be).  No one is right all time time.  (see previous statement) But they have figured it out.  They know how to do it.  I hope that G and I are able to teach H and M just as much as my parents have taught (and continue to teach) me.

They've been thrown some curveballs.  A big one a few weeks ago.  But true to form, they are figuring it out.  Together. 

Happy Anniversary to the best of the best. For reals.

Love,
Your favorite daughter

I Think

I think  - as much as I'm having a great day doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that my heart is heavy.
Kev.

I think - he is smiling, watching his buddies golf at the Kev King Memorial Free Pass Open, where they will laugh, remininisce, drink good beers, eat amazing food (thanks Nice Guy and Tim) and just be together.  His favorites.
Kev.

I think -  they will raise money today for his children, not because his children need it but because they don't know what else to do.
Kev.

I think - that as much fun as they all are having, they'd stop it all in a single breath to have him back. Even if for just one more minute.
Kev.

I think - when I saw his mom and dad last week, it was all I could do to not start bawling in the middle of the produce aisle.  (If that was fifteen minutes of the day when they weren't crying, I wasn't going to be the one who got them started.)  When I hugged his dad, it was the closest I'd gotten to the world famous Kev King hug in a few years.  I miss it.
Kev.

I think - his wife is the strongest person I know.  I am in awe of her. 
Kev.

I think - his parents and brother have a hole in their hearts that is unimaginable.  But they do it for him.
Kev.

I think - it is indescribable that his dear sweet children are so young.  It makes me so angry.  But he, of all people, wouldn't want us to be angry.
Kev.

I think - on my run today, my tears were a result of so many thoughts swirling in my mind thinking of him, it hurt me to think.
Kev.

I think - my husband, who is undoubtedly one of the goofiest folks around, thinks of him every day - every. single. day - and he will never get over this.
Kev.

I think - these guys, who would do anything for each other, know that of all of them, this loss is the biggest they'll ever have.
Kev.

I think - with every throw of the football, every swing of the wiffle ball bat and every baseball hat worn, he is with them.

I know -  they know - that today (and every day), he is with them.
Kev.

Keep Calm and ...

Pretty much.

Whistle While You Work

We have an ongoing joke at FSPA that I whistle all day, every day.  Clearly, working in the environment that I do, I hear a LOT of melodies in the course of a day.  I'm not even that impressive of a whistler.  But that definitely doesn't stop me.  I'm all about the whistle.  I whistle songs I hear coming from a piano.  I whistle songs that I hear coming from a cell phone ring.  I whistle dumb vocal warm-ups that aren't even real songs.  I whistle anything and everything I hear.  (Probably much to the dismay of my lovely office mate...)
 
I realized today, that I haven't whistled in over two weeks.  To many folks (okay to most folks) that wouldn't be that big of a deal.  But to me, it is.

Today, I whistled again.  I guess things are looking up in my world...

Baby steps.  Literally.

May, 2013

Our first run ever.  

Mother's Day, 2013

She is the strongest lady I know.

Oh, and please ignore the fact that my thigh is twice as big as her's.  

I'm a little fragile these days. 

Thanks.

The Next Fashion Craze

G is dropping off a care package on his way in to work tomorrow morning.

She needs a shirt.  OK - so I made a few adjustments...

I think she'll approve.  (She taught me everything I know.)

Snooze Button

You know when you wake up from a nightmare and you're so relieved that it's only a dream?

Well, this ain't that folks.  

If you believe in the power of prayer and positive thought, we could use it 'round these parts.

As Karen Carpenter Once Said "(They Long To Be) Close To You"

They certainly can.
They certainly do.

They are certainly fine.
They are certainly perfectly content.

But if given the chance, they don't. They'd, simply, rather not.

They, if given the choice, would much rather be together.  As close together as possible.

We have told them since before they could understand all our words, "You are stuck with each other for at least eighteen years.  You can make it wonderful being together.  Or not. It's your choice.  We're just along for the ride." 

I think they have taken us very, very seriously.

When not in school, they are with each other ALL DAY. 
They eat, play, read, work, sleep together...twenty-four seven.

And still, when they go to bed, they talk, for minutes - sometimes hours - before falling asleep.

What in the WORLD is left to say?

It amazes me.

It always has.
It always will.

Legacy

I was asked to sing at a funeral this past weekend.

I was honored to have been asked.  While I don't know the family very well on a personal level, our families, it seems, have always known each other - through church, mutual friends, going through school together, just living in this town all our lives.   They are a family that I've always held in high esteem and I always will.

The funeral was filled with folks that are, to me, the foundation of this town.  They are the families that have been here for generations and, likely will be, for generations to come.  While everyone was so saddened by this sudden loss, there was a lot of comfort to see so many amazing folks gather together to show their respect, love and support of a family they hold so dear.

I was humbled to have even the littlest part in the day.

The brother of the gentleman who passed away spoke at his eulogy.  Four of his five children spoke as well.  They all spoke with an eloquence that can't be described.  (I've only heard such eloquence one other time when, in fact, listening to three friends give a eulogy for their dad a little over a year ago.  They sat in the front row on Saturday, providing comfort and love in a way only they can.  They are walking the walk now, without their dad.  They will, I know, be there for this family, however and whenever, needed.) 

As I sat and listened to these amazing words, I was in awe listening to the legacy this man has left.  Simply by doing nothing other than being himself.  He was an awesome (in the truest sense of the word) man:  husband, father, brother and friend.  I can't even begin to give you examples of what this man was.  What this man did.  I sat there and was honestly so sad for all the people in the church who will miss him every day.  He was, I know, an unbelievable human being.  Plain and simple.

It made me wonder what my legacy will be.  Now, I now that (I hope) I still have years to go before someone's reading my eulogy (God forbid) and I guess I don't need to panic (just yet), but really.  If I were to die to tomorrow, what would my legacy be?

I feel as if I'm just a converse-wearing knucklehead who gets through the day by making fun of herself, her children and her husband.  That won't make for much of a eulogy.  My legacy is weak, at best, at this point.

I guess I need to start working on building my legacy.  But you're not supposed to think about building a legacy.  You're supposed to just do it.  Just by being you.

Humph. I guess that's all I can do.  Just be me.  I just hope that's good enough...

The Ride

I remember very vividly the first time I rode my bike down Union Street, on my own, without my parents. 
I remember being so excited as I "raced" down (what seemed at the time) a monstrously dangerous hill, by myself. 
I remember feeling very grown up and free.

This weekend, down the Cape (or "on" Cape, as some say...this always makes me laugh...) we spent a lot of time on our bikes - G, H, M and me. 
I was nearly always "the caboose", with G, H and M taking turns in the front.  It sort of just happened this way.  It wasn't intentional, but this was a great vantage point for me.  I was able to spend a lot of time just looking and watching my family. 
I couldn't always hear what they were talking about but there was a lot of laughter, goofing around, smiles between the girls and their Daddio.  I loved watching them - for hours.

You can't script those moments.  But they are ones that I cherish.  I try to catch as many as I can.  I try to soak in every moment with this Four Family of mine.  I know they're still young and (even as they get older) we will still have these moments.  It's just that, I feel as if, in a blink,  they will be "riding on their own". 

I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. 

I clearly am feeling a bit overly sentimental...and I'm not even drinking any wine...

...maybe I should be...

Sharesies

Home Alone.
That was the movie.

Peaches.
That was the restaurant.

Me:  "Are you going to finish your fries?"  (as I reached over, grabbed them off his plate and proceeded to finish his dinner and mine.)

Make no mistake, he clearly knew what he was getting into from Day One.

Ah, Summer

H and M have a social calendar that makes my head spin.

Today, they spent the day with friends swimming and playing with guinea pig, Michelle.  (Is that not the best name for a guinea pig ever?)
Tomorrow, they will spend the day with cousins in Maine.
Wednesday afternoon will be more swimming, hanging with friends at an EY concert (Franklin Town Common 6:00 - don't miss it!) and a cousin sleepover.
Thursday brings more swimming with pals and Auntie Tracy.
They just got an invite to hang with a great best bud on Friday afternoon and then some more cousin time.
Starting on Saturday, our friends from the left coast will be here for most of the week.  Lord knows what lovely madness that will bring these two (and us as well.)

'Tis the season. 

Love.

Sun and Sand

Going to the beach is definitely a roller coaster ride.

"Hmm, I definitely look better than her and she's surely younger than me. But crap - that lady JUST had a baby and she looks like THAT?!"

"Oh man, remember when my stomach looked like that!  How depressing.  My God - I need to go for a run NOW!  But wait - look at the lady behind her. I look WAY better than her."

 "I liked what I packed to eat until I saw what THEY packed over THERE.  That looks SO much better than what we have.  Damn.  AND I'm still hungry."

"If you kick me with sand one more time, I'm leaving you here and you can walk home.  But you aren't being a complete brat like THAT kid so thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus.  I love you.  Come kiss your mumma."

"Why, oh, why didn't I appreciate the way I looked when I was 23.  But, man I would NOT want to be 23 again.  No thanks!  Moving on."

"We really should leave.  But that means I'll have to start packing things up.  Oh let's stay a little bit longer.  Just pass me the sunblock and get out of my sun."

I'm exhausted.

Just Call Me "Norm"

"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see our troubles are all the same.
You wanna be where everybody knows your name."

Today, I took a "Townie" run.  By that I mean, at nearly every corner, with every step, I was reminded why I, quite simply, love my hometown.  Today, more so than any other day I can recall, I came across people, places and things that brought me back to my youth.  Big time.

I ran by the house where my great-grandparents raised their six children.  I only knew four of these six children but they were and continue to be amazing influences on me and now my children.  The last of the six still lives there with his wife.  (Blog post about him to come soon!)  My two cousins live downstairs.  That house, to me, is where it all began. 

I ran through Fletcher Field.  It is where I spent time swinging on swings with boys who broke my heart and with the boy who ultimately has my heart.  (I swear, all we did was swing on swings...if any of you knew me when I was in high school, you'd know this to be very, very true!!)

I ran by many folks, most of whom I've known since I was in elementary or junior high school.  (Two of whom yelled out "Crow" and "Crowley" as I passed).  You've known me a looooong time if that's how you refer to me.  And I promise, it always makes me smile. 

I ran passed The Rome.  A culinary staple in town for generations, the family just last week lost (way too early) one of the matriarchs of their family.  My children have grown up knowing that "if you want good pizza, you gotta go to The Rome on Fridays when Rocco's in the kitchen." 

I ran alongside Pisini Field where I and my dad, played softball.  It is there where I first met one of my dearest and oldest friends.  And it is there where, if I close my eyes, I can see my dad crouching behind home plate as catcher wearing his green and yellow number 00 jersey.

I ran through the new construction of the high school.  Every time I drive by, I get so excited that H and M will be attending school in what is sure to be an amazing place.  And yet, it makes me sad that they won't graduate from the same high school as G and I did, just for sentimental reasons.  As I turned the corner this morning, (near what used to be the tennis courts) I thought of all the classes, dances, infatuations, fights, and all-round good times we spent there. 

I ran by the Akin-Back Farm.  While I passed by, the woman (whom I assume is the owner) was out on the front steps with her seeing eye dog as I've seen her for years.  She was getting the mail while wearing her nightgown and slippers.  She must be at least 186 years old. God love 'er.

I moved over on the sidewalk to let Mr. Pisini walk by me as he was on his way back to work from the post office.  If you walk inside his shoe store tomorrow, you'll honestly feel as if it's 1967 (at the latest). He makes posters for his windows on posterboard with pencil markings for margins and straight line guides.  He leaves shoes on the sidewalk all summer-long in an attempt to drum up business.  I don't think he really needs the business but he's at it 365, 24/7, it seems.

I ran by Bobby Catalano, who's house recently burned down.  F & P Molla (why hire any other construction company but them??!!)  has worked tirelessly for months re-building his home.  There was such extensive damage so it's taking a very long time.  They are doing an amazing job!  I only hope he lives long enough to enjoy it. He, like the Akin-Back Farm lady, is no Spring Chicken either!

I ran by a few of my oldest friends' parents' houses.  I find comfort knowing that, inside, are people who know me through and through.  And would drop everything if we ever needed them.  With just a knock on the door. 
 

I know that to some, the idea of living this life is cringe-worthy.  I get that.  I really do.  But to me, I can't imagine it any other way.  I completely understand why some people (most people) live far, far away from their hometown.  I am envious of those who have the chutzpah to leave all that they've known and start over - whether they be ten, thirty or fifty.  There is absolutely a part of me that would pack up tomorrow and go somewhere new.  Somewhere different.  But then, I think - why?  I truly, honestly, love it here. 

The purpose of my run this morning was not to re-live my younger years.  The intention was not to feel like the mayor of the town (I leave that title to G).  I told my boss (whom I've known since I was eight, by the way...) that I was playing hookey and that I'd be coming in to work a little later.  I had no business coming in to work late today.  The folks around me always work much harder than I but this week, they are working (literally) around the clock.  The least I could have done was show up at a reasonable hour.  And yet, today I just wanted a little comfort in a run.  And I let myself do it.  And I definitely got some comfort - and then some.

Because He Can

We got a horrifying, unthinkable e-mail at work today.  A dear friend and former co-worker lost her husband unexpectedly yesterday.  We all walked around today, pretending that it was a normal day but knowing that, for his family, this day was anything but normal.  And even though we don't talk to them all the time anymore, we feel their pain and wish we could take it away.

Another husband lost too soon.  Another dad.  Another Daddy.

And so, as much as possible, I will

not be annoyed when he covers the entire bathroom counter with water each morning.
Because he can.

not mind when he watches Rocky again, for the umpteenth time.
Because he can.

not roll my eyes when he comes downstairs wearing "that" shirt instead of the other one.
Because he can.

let him navigate the roads when I think he should be in the other lane on the highway.
Because he can.

remember that, to him, an extra few minutes of sleep on the weekends make all the difference.
He will surely run errands (his AND mine) later.
Because he can.

know that, when H and M are being knuckleheads, he is doing and saying just what he thinks is right to help them grow and learn.  Who's to say that I'm always right?  Even if it's not how I'd go about it, let 'im do it.
Because he can.

watch him take five trips in to the house with groceries (two more than I think are necessary).
Because he can.

not lose my cool when he puts cookies directly on the island instead of on a plate or paper towel. Because he can.

TRY to understand that watching the Pats play a game DOES affect his life.  He adores every minute of the Pats.
Because he can.

without being bugged every time, simply hang my pants in my other closet "where they belong" instead of keep them where he put them.  Hey-he's doing laundry!
Because he can.

take the drain-thing out of the sink, throw out the nasty soggy cereal that's still there from his breakfast, move on with my day and not be in a bad mood for the rest of the morning about doing it.    Surely I do plenty that bugs him.  And surely he gets annoyed with me.
Because he can.

The next time you say hello or good night or thank you to someone you love,
the next time you kiss or hug them,
the next time you are blessed enough to be there with them, 
really be there.

Do all that you do - with an extra somethin' special when you are with them.

Because you can.

A Day In My Life

Some of my random thoughts today (in no particular order...)

Really, with the fanny pack, lady?
Ah, young love.  Man, I am old.
How in the HELL will we pay for college?
I hope the people renting the cottage at the cape will be able to make use the fire pit/ make s'mores at least once this week.
Bradley Cooper can't possibly be any cuter.
Thanks, Mother Nature (and Eddie Rabbit).  Will I ever get this damn song out of my head?
...I guess I should have closed the screen door.
Happy Birthday, Selkie Snow!
I can't believe I forgot my lipstick at home!  How do I not have a spare in my desk?!!??
Remember when H and M used to be attached to my hip?  Now, it's like pulling teeth for them to come say "hello" when they have a break during camp.  Be careful what you wish for!!!...
It's dad's birthday tomorrow.  I should write a blog about him.  But honestly, where in the world would I even start?
Brillo pads are quite possibly the nastiest things in the world.
Should we book a dinner in Downtown Disney this trip?  Oh God, remember how crabby Maddie was the last time we took the boat over one night?  What WAS her deal?  What will she be like in a few years?  Dear God, help me.
How long will it be before H and M know more about navigating a computer than me?
Thank you, but I don't really want to see what I should do if my plane is crashing. I think I'll just go with my gut at that point.
Get a life.  Please.  For the love of Jesus.
My husband is starting a band. Pardon me?
How did I lose so many pens and pencils in the course of eight hours?
How do you tell someone that everything will be okay when it feels as if their world is coming to a complete and utter end?
There is always laundry in the house.
I guess I should have applied more sunblock this weekend.  Why can't I get this peel on my nose OFF my nose?
Don't forget to contact Nike and ask how to fix the app.
49 years old.  Way too young to die.  Horrifying.  And scary.
That'll have to wait until tomorrow.
How will I get a run in this week?
Wow - the self cleaning oven feature stinks up this whole damn house.
I wonder how many people have blocked me on fb.
How did I ever not like avocados?
Just get up.  And go to sleep.  The blog has lost your some good sleeping hours...

PTSD

That's short for Post Traumatic Swim Disorder.

My parents (have I mentioned they rock the world?) took the kids for an overnight to Coco Keys last night.  While gone, last night, G and I did some shopping, spent a quiet night on the patio at Terrace Cafe and then hung with great friends.  (While at the Terrace Cafe, he said something that made me laugh so hard, I honestly spit my wine out on the floor.  Man, that makes me so happy.  Our waitress, I'm sure, not so much...)  Today, we had a great bike ride on the Milford Bike Trail and checked out Rock and Coal Pizza.  Yum.  Anyway, we got some photos and texts from the kids while they were gone, checking out restaurants, swimming, sliding, loving life with Nonie and Papa.  How could they not?  Great twenty-four hours for all involved. 

Apparently, on the way home today from dinner at The Chateau with my parents (spoiled brats...), H had a horrible reaction and walked in our door covered in hives and with a rash over most of her body.  We gave her medicine and she hopped in the shower.  We hung out all night and, just a few minutes ago, went to bed nearly as good as new.

When she first got home, she was very upset (mostly, as it turns out) because she was worried that she was having a reaction to the restaurant's red sauce and she thought she'd never be able to eat red sauce again.  (Sometimes she just cracks me up.)  Regardless of that, she was nervous to have such a reaction.  Poor bub.  It was a pretty nasty reaction.  But I don't know what made me more sad - seeing her so sad...or seeing M so sad because H was so sad. 

It's like something I never could have imagined.  This connection they have.  Yesterday, on facebook, I posted about the conversation they had while they took a little snooze on the couch earlier in the day.  It was just under a minute, probably, of made-up twin gibberish but they clearly, in their sleep, knew just what the other was saying.  It reminded G of the time, years ago, when he was sitting on the couch with H and, in her barely-able-to-even-speak-at-the-time-way, she said that "sister is up".  M had been taking a nap and sure enough, G started to walk upstairs and M was turning the corner from their bedroom.  There was NO WAY H could have heard M waking up upstairs.  She just "knew" she was awake.  It was awesome and freaky at the same time. 

Hearing M trying to make H feel better tonight made my heart literally hurt.  Soon enough, I had two crying kids in the house.  Not from being overly dramatic to get a reaction from us.  They just can't stand to see each other hurt or sad.  (Unless one has just pissed the other one off and they are pulling each others' hair or kicking each other...that's a completely different scenario...but I digress).

It's way cool.  This life they lead.  And as I've said before, I am so psyched to have a front row seat for the show.

The Boys

I was on a bus going in to Boston with a bunch of students and parents.  It must have been 1999, 2000?  I don’t even remember where we were going.  I was sitting next to a FSPA mom who said that she taught with someone who apparently was moving in to the house right next door to us.  “She’s a teacher and he loves sports.  You guys will LOVE them.” 

I didn’t question what I was being told but I couldn’t imagine “taking anyone new on.”  This was well before H and M but even then, there weren’t enough hours in the day to do what we wanted to do.  I was confident that they’d be quite nice but wasn’t banking on anything much more than a friendly “hey, hope you’re well” over the fence every now and again. 

Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Love these kids. To bits.  (Their parents aren't half bad either.)  :)

Like most of us, I don't like to admit when I'm wrong. Well, I. Was. Wrong.  I can't imagine life without them. 

Instead of living on the other side of the fence, they now live three minutes away (tops). And even that's too far.  Everything is just so easy when we are with them.  Well, except for the fact that H and M don't quite understand why they can no longer run around without shirts on as they did when they were toddlers, but that's okay. They'll figure it out soon enough.

There's no thinking involved.  We just can "be".  And I love it.  Now, if only I can convince their boys to marry our girls (I know there will be one boy left over but we can figure something out), I'll be a happy Mumma...

Summah

I try really hard, 365 days a year, - to be as much of a chill-take each day at a time-go with the flow-kind o' gal as possible.  Some days, it's a Big Fat Fail, but most days (I think) I get the job done. 

It's amazing, though, how this time of year, makes it so much more possible for me (and so many others) to just "be".  We're not any less busy during these summer months.  In fact, in some ways, we are busier.  But it's just so nice to feel as if you don't have much more than a care in the world. 

Kinda like these two last night.

H and her Daddio in the Public Gardens last night on the way to dinner.

Silence

On my 10+ miler today, this is what I thought about.












Yep.  Nothing.  This is why I run.  Love.

Is That Me?

Have you ever looked at yourself as you walked by a mirror and were surprised by what you saw? 
That just happened to me.
I'm wearing an outfit that is so "not me". today.
My hair, my necklace, my skirt.  None of it is me.
I don't mind the look, actually.  But I'm surprised by the look of myself today.  I mean, I dressed myself obviously. I shouldn't be surprised by the look.  And yet, I am a bit now that I think about it.

It made me think about how others see me.  And hear me.  I'd love to get a glimpse of me from other people's perspectives.  I bet it's totally different than how I perceive myself.  I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It really doesn't much matter.  It is what it is. 

I think I'm quite lovely.  Not sure what others think... :)  No really.  This, for me, is one of those things that make me go hmmm...

Thank You

To all the amazing dads in my life -

Thank you for be such great dads.  It's not an easy job.  (Largely because you have to deal with us moms.)

Thank you for keeping us safe and protected.

Thank you for all the things you don't say, even though you want to, because you know that's the wise choice.  (You've learned well.)

Thank you for doing all that you can to give us what we need - and then some.

Thank you for doing things for us when you'd rather be doing things for yourselves, all the while, with smiles on your faces.

Thank you for making us laugh when we really want to cry.

Thank you for making us laugh when we really want to scream.

Thank you for knowing when to "fix" and when to "listen".

Thank you for making being a mom that much easier with you by our sides.

Thank you Natalie Merchant - for saying it so well.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5ZjrGdlNDo

Thank you.

Silver Lining

As I was sitting in the car pick up line today (in the pouring rain) it reminded me of our wedding day.

YEP - pouring rain.  It was gorgeous the day before.  And even more gorgeous the day after.  It hadn't rained on a Saturday for MONTHS.  Until October 25, 1997.

Leading up to "the" day, we had hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't rain. (Doesn't everyone?)  When we knew the night before that Mother Nature was going to mess with us, my dad made a quick phone call.  (Not to Mother Nature.  She was busy getting ready to pour buckets on us...)

My dad called a kid (well, he was at the time) to see if he and his friends were busy the next day.  The deal was, if they weren't busy, would they be willing to walk folks to and from the street in to the church underneath big golf umbrellas?  They agreed to it - and they showed up the next day in sports coats, ties.  All dolled up.  Too, too cute.  I'm not even sure how old they were - 16, maybe?

I love seeing them in our wedding video, helping folks in to the church.  It makes me so happy that they were, unexpectedly, a part of our day. They were the first people to greet our guests.  They chit-chatted with folks.  Laughed with folks. Surprised folks when they appeared with umbrellas in hand to keep them dry.  It was just a little part of the day but to me, it is such a great one.

When I was standing at the back of the church, waiting to go down the aisle, they waited back there with us. In fact, one of them made sure that my train was straight before I walked down the aisle with my dad and grandfather.  I remember thinking at the time - "if I ever have sons, I want them to be just like these guys."

As an aside, one of "these guys" (who is no longer a kid) is one of our Four Family's favorite voices.  His band's CD has been affectionately named our Four Family's "Summer of 2012" and "Summer of 2013" CD...if it ever feels like summer again. 

Do me a favor, check out Brothers McCann here: brothersmccann.com/   And "like" them on facebook here:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Brothers-McCann/21759442359?fref=ts  They are working on a new CD as I type. (Remember when I told you to help 'em out and donate to their project on kickstarter?)  These guys rock the world.  Listening to them make music will simply make you happy.

When they become famous, maybe I'll return the favor to Mike and I'll help shield him from the rain as he walks down the Red Carpet to receive his Grammy Award.  I'll do it.  Promise.

Anyway, I guess my point is, at the time, I thought that the rain was going to be such a bummer.  But as it turned out, it's one of my favorite memories of the day.  

You never know how things are going to turn out.  Most of the time, if you let yourself, you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Let's Not Make Music

Tonight at FPAC's Les Mis auditions, I re-connected with M and H's music teacher when they were just babes (this was obviously before we taught kiddos that young at FSPA.)  Miss Chrissy was adorable then and still is now.  Tonight, when I saw her, she looked familiar but I couldn't figure out how I knew her.  Thankfully, she recognized me and helped me put two and two together.  I told her that her ears must have burning recently, as I was just telling someone how H and M were THE poster children for how NOT to behave in a music class.  OMG - they were awful.  She said that she didn't remember that about them.  Miss Chrissy lies.  Let's reminisce, shall we?

They were maybe two.  Adorable.  Little itty bitties.  Coordinated outfits (sort of like the Mandrell sisters).  Massive heads of hair.  Ponytails on the tip tops of their heads.  Chubby cheeks.  Little voices (when they tried to say words.)  BIG voices (when they cried).  The. Entire. Time. In. Miss. Chrissy's. Class. 

It was a "mommy and me"-type class.  Truthfully, not my cup of tea, but I understand why some folks like that set-up.   I sat RIGHT next to them.  For the entire class.  They couldn't have POSSIBLY sat any closer to me and yet they never stopped crying. From the moment we walked in until the moment we left.

Every mom and EVERY OTHER CHILD in the class thoroughly enjoyed every moment of Miss Chrissy. How could they not?  The class was filled with laughing children, big drums, scarves, smiles, triangles, puppets, guitars and hoola-hoops.  And my two loser children. Crying.  Non-stop. We'd get up from the floor at times and walk around the room and such while singing some song - you know the kind.  They'd cling on to my leg and start to sweat they were so upset.  Before I knew it, I was sweating too.  It was mid-December.  I couldn't ignore them, these appendages off my leg and yet, I tried to imagine they weren't there. I tried to imagine none of us were there.  It was painful. I am pretty darn sure that the other moms in the class cringed when we walked in each week. (You know the look.  The one you get when you're walking on to an airplane with your whooping cough child.)  They surely hoped that we'd be absent. And yet - I was determined to make it work. 

I was "that mom" who (even though you were not allowed to bring food in to the room) snuck them fruit snacks from my pocket an attempt to shut them up.  I was "that mom" who bribed them during every car ride to class.  Each week, I thought I got through to them and each week, I was wrong.  The bribes didn't work.  Nothing worked.  Absolutely nothing.  Each week, as we took off our shoes, they'd turn in to exorcist toddlers.

I don't even remember if they EVER learned to like the class.  And it pained me.  It was so not because of the class.  The class was just fine.  It was my children that sucked.  Yes.  There I said it.  They sucked.

Thankfully, they have turned themselves around.  I think we're on the upside now.

I will definitely have to tease them about this tomorrow.  They deserve it.

Their World

Sometimes, they wrap themselves up in each other like they are one person. 

Especially at night when they are asleep.
They sometimes start in different beds but often end up in the same.

It's something I can't explain.

It's something I can't understand.

I marvel at it.

I could watch them for hours this way.

It's something special about two (or three or four) people who shared a big fat belly for nine months. 

They get it. 

We don't. 

We never will.

...ribbit...

I have no explanation but as nervous as I get talking to people I don't know (like at parties and such), I am highly comfortable talking to strangers over the age of 75 (or children under the age of 4)- at any time and under any circumstance. 

Today, I had an appointment at an allergist (dead-end, got me nowhere, RL was right... :)) and in next to no time, I became best friends with the little man sitting next to me.  I was kind of carrying on as if we were a comedic duo.  In fact, we had the ladies behind the desk laughing at us.  I was on fire.  I stopped short of asking for tips ... but I was tempted. 

Then, as the nurse filled out the questionnaires and such before the doctor came in, I became her BFF as well.  She wasn't quite as old as Johnny, but definitely much older than I. 

Minutes later, when the younger (younger than me, I'd say) doctor came in, I was like "Michigan J. Frog"... couldn't think of much to say and found myself trying to be entertaining but just wasn't. Well, he did chuckle a few times (both times I was channeling Dupe which is always sure to get me some laughs) but it's just not the same. 

Ah well...at least I know what I'm good at.



Memories

As I hang in the kitchen, nearing the end of lunch and snack-making for a few months, I can't help but think back on my school years.  These are the thoughts that come immediately to my mind...and I am sorry if I mention anyone and cause embarrassment.  (I know this blog is all about me, but sometimes it is also about you...)

Kindergarten-Knowing for the first time ever that I thought boys (well really a certain boy) was way cute.  Tommy Walker.  Oh my God, with that little bowl cut.  A-dor-able.  I now teach his daughter and she is equally a-dor-able.  Sometimes I see expressions on her face that remind me of him when we were little.  It makes me so happy/I also remember getting off the bus one day and Stephen Impey kissed me on the head.  I remember being so embarrassed, fearful that I was going to get in trouble.

First Grade-Mrs. Wood reading us Charlotte's Web/Being afraid that "the other teacher" (Mrs. Moulton?) would really make us put gum on our noses as we had heard she did/The whole spilled milk incident.  (See "There's Not Use Crying Over Spilled Milk" blog entry.)

Second Grade-Beautiful Mrs. Goss/Raising my hand to use the word "nun" in a sentence.  My mom (who always came in to help) sat there proudly because she assumed I'd say something like "my mom had a nun for a teacher growing up."  Instead, I referred to a bottle of Blue Nun liquor that my parents had in the basement because my mom was making a great table with labels from bottles. She was mortified/Amy Ferioli and I arguing over who liked Bobby Jarvis more.

Third Grade-I was always amazed at how skinny Miss Fallon was/Jessica Smith had those super cool pencils with the crazy heads with wacky hair on the eraser.  (You know the kind your twirled between your hands and the hair got all crazy?!...)/I loved being in the highest reading group.  (I used to be smart...I'm not sure what happened.)

Fourth Grade-Getting my first F in Mr. Gonsalves class.  (I still don't quite understand longitute or latitude.  I hope H and M remember more of their fourth grade than I did.

Fifth Grade-I was amazed at how messy Charlie Deforge's desk would get in a matter of minutes.   We'd come back from recess and his entire desk would be tipped over so that he'd be forced to clean it.  He'd just laugh and start throwing stuff away/I couldn't believe how much "shit" Chris Butts gave Mrs. Ficco.  She was a saint.

Sixth Grade-Meeting Alyssa Sveden on the bus going to Central District.  We ate devil dogs and nearly choked because we had nothing to drink/Mrs. Barber reading "The Hobbit" to us. I loved the book but hated how her breath smelled like cigarettes/G teasing me in the lunchroom.

Seventh Grade-Mr. Ferrari.  He still makes me laugh just thinking about him.  I wonder what he's up to these days...?

Eighth Grade-I feel badly at how much I didn't like - oh God - I can't think of his name - the science teacher.  Good friends with Mr. Hoar.  I SO didn't understand a thing he taught and, in my mind, it was clearly all his fault/Going to a CYO dance and dancing with Bryan Cotton.  Once again, I thought I was a hussy/Looking out the window in what's-his-name's science class, hoping that Eddie Colace would pull up to the school to see his dad.  Does he still have the "HOP IN" license plate?  Either way, he makes a good meal at Incontro these days!

Ninth-Twelfth Grade:  Suffice to say, these years can be summed up with these few words:  big bangs, bright lipstick, pegged pants, obsession with Danny Feeley.  Safe to say, I'm over all these things.  Thankfully - although I'm sure Danny's a great guy.

Ah, those were the days.

Power Of Two

In my self-induced insomnia last night/this morning (who knew that a large black iced coffee has SO much caffeine in it?!!), I rediscovered the song "Power of Two" by The Indigo Girls. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qscYgRLCmKI

It clearly was not written about two sisters. But in my world, when I first heard it, H and M were just babes and it struck a chord with me.  I am now obsessed with it again and have listened to it five times already this morning. 

At some point, in their time at FSPA, they MUST sing this song together...I guess they'll also need to learn how to play the guitar...and the harmonica...no problem...I'll get right on that.

These two crazies.  They are somethin' else.



Sometimes...

...I try coffee and really want to like it.  I never do.
...I wonder how happy I'd be if my southern and northern cousins all lived in the same town as me.  Priceless.
...I envy watching G "work" the room at a party, while I try (and usually fail) at coming up with the next thing to say to someone.  I know you don't believe me, but it's painful.
...I wonder what other name I look like besides "Kim".  Pam?  Lisa?  Kelly?  Mr. Falcone always called me Pam.
...I can't wait until H and M can wear contacts.
...I laugh when I sing in church without a microphone and am perfectly loud enough.  Gotta love those Pecci genes.
...I am amazed, thrilled and terrified that we are responsible for raising two daughters.
...the laundry can wait.  The dishes in the sink, however, cannot.
...being kind is easy.
...it is not.
...I practice tap steps in my kitchen when no one is looking.
...I eat my lunch really early in the day and then get depressed that it's all gone.
...I sit at the piano and, for a split second, totally forget how to read a single note.
...I am in awe at the speed with which I change into comfy clothes after work.
...I wonder what I did in my free time before facebook or this blog. 
...I can eat a sleeve of oreos without anyone noticing I even opened my mouth.
...I am embarrassed at how little I know about so many things.
 ...when I pull in to this driveway, I wonder why I'd ever want to be anywhere else.

...I think about my best buds scattered around the country and I laugh out loud for no particular reason.
...I think we should get a dog and then I realize that that is the silliest thing I've thought all day.
...(always) I am beyond words thankful for my parents.
...when I listen to my recorded voice, I want to vomit.
...I take out stuff to dust the tv or furniture, remember that Ingrid will be here in a few days to clean, and then I put the dusting stuff away and watch tv.  That, my friends, is the epitome of lazy.
...at various times throughout the winter, I honestly think that summer will never get here.
...you (and you know who you are) should never wear a thong.
...I wonder what I would do if I didn't live in my hometown.  (Just today someone said to me, "aren't you Franklin's Miss from a long time ago?!?!")
...I worry myself sick that I won't be around to meet and love my grandchildren and great grandchildren.
...I feel like I could run forever.
...I feel like I couldn't run to the end of (my very short) driveway.
...I smell "childhood smells" and I am instantly nine again.
...I just sit and listen to H and M talk to each other.  And I smile.
...I get so angry I say "I could spit nickels" (just like my gram).
...I am so full and yet I eat more.  Much more.
...I am amazed that I haven't broken or lost these sunglasses yet.
...I wish we didn't have a mortgage.  I don't need millions.  Just no mortgage, please.
...I think that if I were 15 pounds lighter, I'd be happier.
...I know that if I were 15 pounds lighter, I'd be happier.  (Sorry, Hol.)
...I watch G build something and it makes me love him even more (especially if it's something that I told him we didn't really need, but he insisted, and he was right.)
...ice cream for dinner is just what is on the menu. And tonight is that night.