A Lady and Her Prince

A year ago today, a dear friend and his wife (well, I say friends but really they are family to us) heard the word no one ever wants to hear.

Cancer.

The prognosis was not good.  Stage Four.
 
I remember exactly where I was when I found out.  I remember where I stood when we talked on the phone the next day.  I remember not wanting to call.  To give them time.  They were so far away.  But I remember just needing to hear their voices.  I remember trying to be strong on the phone but knowing damn well that I was anything but at that moment.  I remember when we told our girls.  Oh, God.  That was one of the worst moments of my life.

[I'm sorry.  Say that again?  This can't be right.  You must be mistaken.  This isn't happening.]

The long and the short of it is that he is, by nothing short of a miracle (if you ask me) cancer free today.  And stronger than you and I will ever be.

[I'm sorry.  Say that again?  This can't be right.  You must be mistaken.  This isn't happening.]

The thing is, there was quite simply no. way. he was going to let cancer win.  And it didn't. 

I don't mean any disrespect to anyone.  (Some that I know and love now as I sit and type are fighting the battle of their lives).

They are just as strong as he.  They pray just as hard as he.  They think positive thoughts just as much as he.  They should win too.

Who can ever even begin to understand why some people suffer and others don't?
Who can ever even begin to understand why horrible things happen to great people?
Who can ever even being to understand why some people "win" and others don't?

We never will understand.

But I do understand this.

If ever in a situation like this, I will never give up.  I will never let the people around me give up.  I've seen things that I never thought possible, become possible.

When my mom was going through her whole ordeal a little over a year ago (remember when she couldn't walk...yah, crazy, huh?) Well, not walking, for her, was simply not. an. option. She never gave up.  If she had given up, it's likely that she wouldn't have allowed herself to be given the amazing gift of walking again. But she didn't.  And she did.  And she is.

And so is he.  He, like her, is proof of what can happen when you don't give up.

It doesn't always happen.  The good guy doesn't always win.  But at least in the end, if you don't give up, you can say that you gave it all you could. 

I love this man with all my heart.  I love his wife to the moon and back.

They are a Lady and her Prince.  And I love them both with every breath I take. 
 

Patty and Nancy

I am the first person (and truly I mean that) to say that our children are very easy children to raise. I have never, not ever for a moment, taken this for granted.  Somehow, the planets aligned (or my mother's prayers were answered) and we've been given an easy parenting road.  I know that we are only twelve years in and things may change in a millisecond but until then, just follow my lead.

They are easy going, flexible, polite, respectful, well-mannered, funny, smart, kind, talented, courteous and down-right nice kids.

However, they are driving me effing crazy.

The thing is, right now, they are each displaying the two things about myself that I dislike the most.  At the same time. 

Sweet Baby Jesus, I can't take it.

If you ask me, I only become Miss Passive Aggressive Patty (aka Hannah) with my poor husband.  He's been dealing with it for decades. I think he's resigned himself to the fact that I will not tell him when something is bothering me. Instead, I will let it stew and soak and will not be happy until I allow every. single. move. he. makes. to bother me and bring it back to whatever is at the core of my issue.  He loves when I do that.  Just ask him. 

And I really don't think that I am Do It My Way or No Way Nancy (aka Maddie) anymore.  I used to be as a kid - just ask Amy about the Snoopy umbrella...I was a disaster.  I realized that I had to stop being the boss of life and that things would be okay if someone else called the shots.  I became so okay with it that I now (unfortunately) don't like to make any decisions about anything and would rather let others do it around me.  At times, this can be equally disastrous (minus the Snoopy umbrella).  It's difficult being me.  ;)

Anyway, the long and the short of it is, if you see me wandering down Main Street, it's because I have very little patience (and by that I mean no patience) when these two gorgy girls of mine don't get along.  It may only last for a moment while other families deal with similar behavior like this for hours on end.  Every day. 

Well, I don't care how much others have to deal with it.  I only care about how much I have to deal with it.  'Cuzitsallaboutme, remember?

Three Words

Yesterday, G and I were sitting happy hour at The Beach Bar (Don't hate on us too much.We'll be home soon...)

Anyway, at the bar were those "conversation starter" cards.  Now clearly, neither one of us necessarily needs help in that department (unless I'm "small talking" at a party but we've already covered this topic at length) but he grabbed the cards and started asking me questions.  It was fun.

"What do you most love about your hometown?"
"If you could be sure that you would not be harmed in any way, which would you rather do - skydive or dive with sharks?"
"If you could meet anyone, past, present or future, who would you meet?"
"What three words do you think your family would use to describe you?"

Wait - what?  Say that again?

I never thought about it.  What WOULD they say?  What would anybody say?  I THINK I know what they would say?  Or am I thinking of what I WANT them to say?

I'm surely not hinting at folks to describe me in three words now (or even any time later) - it just made me think.  (And I've had a lot of time this here week to just think.  It's been lovely.  Really lovely).

But truly - when it comes right down to it - we really have NO IDEA what other people REALLY think of us.  That's kind of zonky.

What if how I think others perceive me is COMPLETELY different than how they really DO perceive me?  What if I think I'm HYSTERICAL and everyone else can only tolerate me in small doses (with lots of wine nearby).   What if I think that folks are thrilled to see me when, in reality, they try to turn and walk in the other direction all stealth-like, hoping that I won't see them.  What if I think my students love me and can't imagine their childhood without me when in actual fact, they wish that they took up soccer instead?

Damn.

 

15 West Central Street, THE BLACK BOX

This weekend, I saw what can happen when you don't let go of a dream.  No matter what.

This weekend, I saw a community doing what was needed to git 'er done. No matter what.

This weekend, I saw something really cool happen in our town.

And it was good. Real, real good.

"Do"

We just finished up our second week of classes.

I teach a lot of toddlers and, for many of them, my class is the first time that little kiddos attempt to be in a class without their mom or dad. Scary stuff.  (Because I'm wicked scary, I know.)

Today I was teaching a class with four little cutie patootie boys.  (I love our classes because they are, by design, so small and help us really get to know our students).  Two of them were totally fine with the big ol' meany teacher in the room.  The other two had their doubts.  Clearly.

The entire class was all about helping everyone feel comfy cozy and happy in our new space together. 

I was introducing "do" (blue) to them. We were all on our bellies playing with "do" blocks, building "do" towers, playing "do" leapfrog", driving "do" race cars.

Little by little, the sad, unsure, hesitant faces started to smile, sing and laugh. 

And a few minutes in to the "do" extravaganza, it occurred to me.

I. have. the best. job. ever.

Not Quite Fun in the Sun

We spent a LOT of time at the beach (mostly Horseneck Beach) our junior and senior years of high school.  That's funny, considering how self-conscious we were of how we looked - all the time - but especially in bathing suits.

I remember one day in particular during our junior year.  We were going to the beach with, among a bunch of our "regular" beach crew, two girls who were a year older than us.

They both were completely and totally gorg.  In every way.  They were popular.  Funny.  Nice.  Athletic.  Did I mention gorg?

Anyway, I can't imagine how long it took the rest of us to get ready that day.
I'm sure we put on every bathing suit 1,706 times until we found the one that we looked best in. 
I'm sure we EACH went through a can of aqua net to get our bangs just right.
I'm sure we tanned extra long (in the tanning beds - bad, bad, bad) that week before so that we'd be extra tanned.
I'm sure we didn't eat for days in preparation. 
Okay, maybe I was the only one who did all that but I digress.

We got to the beach, slowly took off our champion shorts and laid down our scrunchy ponytailed heads on our towels, just waiting for them to put us to shame.  We surely were feeling uncomfortable in front of the other beach goers (as we always did) but we were also feeling extra uncomfortable because we knew that, no matter how much time we had spent in preparation, next to these two, we'd fail miserably.

They took off their suits and I swear that the entire beach was suddenly in complete and total awe of the beauty that was before us.  It was as if everything started moving in slow motion, the beach got completely quiet and soft music started playing across the sand.   I'm pretty sure that they started riding along the beach on beautiful black stallions but I could have my memories confused.   Anyway, they were tanned to perfection, in white bikinis - who looks good in a white bathing suit??  THEY did!

It was ridiculous.  I'll never forget that moment of complete and total inferiority.   I'm sure we had a great time although I don't remember much more of that day.  I think I probably blocked it from my memory to avoid depression setting in.

Incidentally, a few years ago, I met up with one of the Gorg Girls for dinner.  And a few nights ago, I bumped in to the other Gorg Girl. Both still lovely.  Both still gorg. 


It made me think that, regardless of how much I loved high school (oh my GAWD did I love high school), I'd not want to go back to 1989 if you paid me. ... unless I could look like one of them in a white bikini.  If I could, well then, obviously game on.

One Step At A Time

The girls were, maybe one and a half.  

They had recently taken over the entire house and were in to EVERYTHING.  Not coincidentally, it's just about the time that I started to develop gray hairs.  

I was in the kitchen.  They were in the playroom.  

I heard hustle and bustle of two one-year-olds. And then I heard silence. 

I walked in to the playroom, not knowing what I'd find.  

What I found was M, all askew, diaper bum stuck in the air, with her head stuck between two bannisters in the stairway going upstairs.  

H just stared at her knowing, I think, that something was quite wrong but clearly couldn't articulate that things had gone awry. They had been having such a great time only moments ago.  Things had been going so well.

I ran downstairs and grabbed the saw and sawed the child out of the bannister. 

This was just one of the many times that I realized that parenting was really not possible without a good stash of wine readily available. 

It WAS almost noon.

Mea Culpa

When hanging up the phone with the girls, G or my parents, I ALWAYS say "'K.  Love you.  'Bye."  I don't even think about it.  I just do it. It's not that I don't mean it - it's just something I've always done. 

This past weekend, over dinner, I was reminded of this story.  It makes me laugh. 

I was on the phone with a FSPA dad.  His son and daughter have been students forEVER.  He's super nice. His wife is super nice.  His kids are super nice.  

I was on the phone with him and - yep, you guessed it.  As we hung up, I said to him, under no uncertain terms, "'K.  Love you.  'Bye." 

I nearly died. 

I called him right back and told him that, while I did (and still do) think he's great - I don't like him in THAT way.    Thankfully, he has a great sense of humor.  He said that he wished I could have see his face as we hung up the phone.  

I wish he could have seen mine. 

That's one way to get more students, I suppose...

Reality

M and H have finished up their first full week of middle school. They both got 10/10 on their first grade.
I think they think they are Harvard-bound.
In a few minutes, they will finish up their first (nearly full) week of FSPA.
They have been staring at their feet, waiting for the pointe shoe blisters to appear since Monday.
(They are weird. And yet, I understand).

This week was great.  Everything went as well as we could have possibly hoped for.  Phew.
But I missed them.
I get so used to seeing them over the summer-even while I was at work. (Have I mentioned that I love my job?)
But because of this, the first few weeks of September are always a culture shock for me.

We will head down the cape as soon as they finish up class. Yes, please.
I can't wait to have an entire uninterrupted hour to chat and re-connect as we head over the bridge.

Until they start bugging me and I turn up the radio so that I can't hear them anymore.

Reading and Writing and 'Rithmetic

I don't consider myself a runner.  But I've run a marathon.  Well, two, actually. 
I don't consider myself a runner.  But I started to write a book.
Today.

I had no idea I was going to start to write a book when I woke up this morning.
In fact, I emailed G and told him about it this afternoon.  He asked what it was about - and I never responded (work's busy - first week of school...)

Yup.  I'm going to do it.
I have no idea how to go about writing a book.  Tonight, I wrote the forward and the credits - and a little bit more.  (It took about 30 minutes and I jotted down a lot of ideas while I was waiting to pick up the girls from school.  Being a mother = multi-tasking.)

My book may end up only consisting of 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of paper bound by one of these:

that my closest friends and family read at a birthday party or Saturday night hang.

But I think it's fun to think that it may end up being something more.  

Who knows?

To be continued...

No Thank You

You know when you were little and you'd close your eyes when something was happening in front of you that you didn't want to see?
Sometimes it took seconds, sometimes minutes, but when you opened your eyes, it was always gone.

As if it never happened.  
The Bad Guy.  The Monster.  The Boogie Man.

If you just closed your eyes long enough, it eventually went away.

I've been closing my eyes for a year now, pretending that something that was, in fact, happening was not.
On behalf of a friend.
A friend whose family has been in my life for so long, while I know there was a time when I didn't know them, I honestly can't remember that time.
They aren't the "talk to every day" friends.  Or even the "talk to every month" friends.
They are the "you know how much you mean to me, unconditional" friends.  You know the kind that, no matter what happens, you know they'll always be around for you friends.

They are fighting a fight quietly and with nothing but dignity.  

They are amazingly strong.  I honestly don't know how they are doing this.

They are in it together.  That is simply how they are.

And still, all I can do is close my eyes and, from the core of my being, the deepest part of my soul, will it away.

Please, dear God.

She

She laughs.
She cooks.
She cleans, weeds, paints, creates, decorates and "Martha Stewarts" like no one's business.
She knows this sucks. 

She hosts people at the house and cottage, all hours of the day and night.
She makes you eat and drink even when you really don't want to.
She makes you eat and drink even when you really can't.
She knows this sucks.

She walks to and kneels in church (for the first time in nearly a year) because she finally can.
She smiles.
She knows how fortunate she is.
She also knows this sucks.

She plays with H and M and is the funnest person they know.
She cooks with H and M and is the best chef around.
She still only thinks of others.
She knows this sucks.

She won't let this get in her way.
Even though it does.
Every minute of every one of her days.
She knows this sucks. 

She is truly amazing.

Say Cheese

I sometimes have my students play a game in my classes where I show them a picture and then I ask them to come up with a name or caption for the picture. 

If I were playing this game, my answers for this picture would be:

Don't Let Life Get In the Way Of Life.

 

Making Lemonade Out of Lemons.

 

Live Life To The Fullest.

Don't Be Fooled.  Things Suck More Than They Appear.

 

Surround Yourself With Love. 

 

Blessed.

Post Game Wrap Up

So, if  you didn't see the approximately 2,590,608 posts about our recent quick excursion to NYC, my parents, H and M and I spent Saturday and Sunday of this past weekend in NYC.  Long story, the girls went to an open call for Matilda (yes, the one running on Broadway - it seems so funny when I see it in print)...

Anyway, the audition experience was everything G and I hoped it would be for them.  M and H took away from the day exactly what we, as parents, wanted them to take away.  On top of that, they had an amazingly fun time in NYC.  They LOVE the Big Apple (which makes us - and their Auntie Hil - so happy) and they LOVE my parents (um, who doesn't?)  So, really it was a match made in their little collective twin heaven. 

Some day, perhaps I'll post about the audition.  Not only was their first (and probably last) Broadway audition (although I have to say that if they'd like to do one again, my bags would be packed before you could sing "give my regards to Broadway..." because it made them so happy), a great experience for them, as kids, it was a great one for me as a mom.  Not surprisingly, I have a story or two about the morning.  Although, sadly for my story-telling self, it was not as interesting as I thought it'd be.  Folks were sort of too normal and non-post/blog worthy.  (But, if you give me a minute, I'm sure I can come up with something good!!!)

But I digress.

The point of THIS blog can be found below.

For some crazy reason, we were unable to find a cab that would take us to Grand Central Station yesterday.  We successfully hailed a number of cabs, they stopped for us, and then proceeded to tell us they'd not go to GCS.  (If any New Yorkers can shed light on the reason why, we would be quite appreciative.)

We ended up walking (quite a distance) to take the S train, the shuttle that ultimately brought us to GCS.  We all had luggage and H and M held their own in schlepping luggage through the NY subway system.  (I am proud to say that they are remarkable traveling companions.)  None of us were Big Fat Crabby Pants about it (that's just not in our nature) but surely we were ready to get to GCS, be on the train and head home.  We still had a 4+ hour commute (and my rock star dad had to drive for two of those hours) and knew we needed to get back to reality and home.

About half-way through our subway schleppage, I had a complete and total mind-changing moment.

Up ahead, I could see H and my mom.  Behind me, were M and my dad.

Eight months ago, if you had told me that we'd be schlepping our luggage through the subways of NYC with my mom in tow (after spending 24+ hours walking across in NYC), I'd have told you that you were (as my dear friend says) on the crack cocaine.

No WAY did I, eight months ago, think that that would ever be in our reality again.

And yet, it was.  And it is.

My mom is a crystal clear example of someone who COULD let life get in her way right now.  But instead she has decided to kick life in the ass and say "screw you!  I'm bigger and better and stronger than you could ever be, so get outta my way. I've got some ass whoopin' to do."

She is an amazing example of what we all should be.  She is an amazing example for our kids.  She is an amazing example for us.  (And as much as G makes it his life mission to tease her, we both know this to be true.)  We are FAR better people because of her.  (Now, don't get me wrong - she whines like a champ and is a martyr like no one's business but, really, that's her schtick and we all love her for that. Well, maybe the folks that she works with are fed up with it but the rest of us love her for it!) 

Truly, she is role model to end all role models.

On another (but related) note, at one point during our time in NYC, one of the girls said to me "why does Papa do all these things for us?  Does he even stop to think if he really wants to do all these things?  He just does them.  And he never even seems to mind!!!"

I looked at both H and M and my response was simple.  "Because he's Papa.  That's all you need to know."  Really, that's all that needs to be said. That's all that can be said.  

Do me a favor.  The next time you see my parents-hug them, kiss them, buy them a drink, give them your seat, your parking spot or your free transferrable cell phone data plan (does that even make sense?)

Regardless, you get the point.

I've said this before.  They. Rock. The. Planet.

And I guess I just want you all to know.

"Thank You Easter Bunny. Bok Bok"

This morning on my run, I was crabby.  Definitely, a "big fat crabby pants" as I lovingly call our daughters from time to time.  I was freezing cold because (silly me) I was dressed as if it were spring and not frickin' the middle of the winter. I wanted it to be done and over with.  And five miles earlier

As I was nearly done, I ran by the house of some of our Forever Friends.  We have known this family literally for nearly "forever" and love them to bits.

As I turned the corner, I saw the dad planting daffodils.  Beautiful, bright yellow daffodils.  They struck me because they were so warm and "spring-y" even though nothing else about the moment was.

I, of course stopped to chat because a) I love to chat and b) I love this man.

We only chatted for about five minutes.  But in those five minutes, my entire perspective of my run changed.  Heck - my entire perspective on lots of things was tweaked a bit.

We talked about so many things - from Jesus to the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. (Don't ask - you had to be there).

In those five minutes, we had some very serious moments (I waited to cry until I ran away) and we had some funny moments.  (This man is truly hysterical in so many ways).  I will spend the rest of the day (and more) thinking of his words.

Anyway, life is funny.  You just need to keep your eyes open. It's so easy to miss life's blessings because we're not paying attention.  They come when you least expect it.

Today, I was blessed to spend a few minutes with a dear, dear man.  An early Easter present.  Lucky lucky me.

Truth

We got an email the other day about a junior high school orientation meeting for parents next week.

My heart nearly skipped a beat. How can this be? Aren't these babes o' mine just barely three years old?

I started talking to H and M about their first year of pre-school, when they both, but especially H, loooooooooved her Mumma. It was a big cry-fest each Tuesday and Thursday morning. G did not envy me at drop off. He still talks about how happy he was to be safe and sound at work, at his desk, away from the madness.

I remember (on far more than one occasion) picking up the phone and, on the other line, was one of their teachers. "Um, we think that H is saying 'sippy cup'. Could you please maybe just drive it over and drop it off on the table in the lobby? BUT DON'T LET HER SEE YOU!! We think that will calm her down a bit."

I remember being so pleased that their classroom was so small. Two teachers for only eight kids. So, (no joke) one teacher worked with seven kids while the other teacher dealt with my one stinkin' kid who kept asking for her stinkin' sippy cup and slobbering all over herself.

I remember her teachers practically doing backflips to keep her occupied while I left the building.

I remember (well maybe I just imagine) the looks on their faces as we walked in to the building. "Oh dear. Here we go again. Maybe this will be the day when H turns the corner."

I guess my point is...

pre-school teachers don't get paid enough.

(You thought I was going to say something sentimental, didn't you?)...

#TBT

Say what you want about Facebook.
It's like anything else.
It's not perfect. It can surely be:
a) annoying, b) frustrating, c) scary d) bordering illegal and freakish. Need I go on?

But it's like anything else.

You can get all caught up in what doesn't work and forget about the good stuff.
If you ask me, life's too short to do that.
Life's too short to do that about a lot of stuff.
(Am I suddenly on a soapbox? I don't mean to be.)

Today I spent (way more time than I should have) reminiscing with folks from high school and with folks that I taught when they were in high school (God, I am old) after seeing photos posted on Facebook.

It reminded me of some really funny times (and is also reminded me of some times that I apparently don't remember at all.) 

Anyway, thank you, Facebook - for reminding me that life's too short not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  Then and now. 

Eternal Doors and Windows

Last night, G was finishing up some work in the kitchen and the girls and I were just sitting down to a few minutes of Food Network before they headed off to bed.

H proceeded to stand directly in front of me, completely blocking my view of the tv.

I said to her, "H, you know what Usher Dupey would say."

Without hesitation, she said, "you make a better door than a window."

Without missing a beat, H moved over so I could see, M continued eating her snack before bed and G chuckled from the kitchen after hearing her.

And I took a breath and smiled.

He never met them. But he knows them. And they know him.

And for this, I am eternally grateful.

Recap

In case you've wondered, I have not a) hit the road and become a Maroon Five/Adam Levine groupie b) taken the plunge and moved our family to Italy for a year as I have suggested to my dear husband who thinks I'm nuts or c) decided I'd rather spend my time solving alogrithms and theorems about the earth's gravitational...oh who am I kidding? I don't even know how to make up a sentence about that, let alone try to solve it!

I've missed this. My silly little blog. Not sure how I found the time to write every day when I first started. I guess right NOW, I can blame my ridiculous obsession with watching "Breaking Bad". But that just started three days ago. I honestly can't wait to get home each night to watch some more. Poor Walt. He, as our daughters say, is making some bad choices...

Anyway, here I am. What's been happening?

H and M spent two weekends last month with FSPA folks in New York City. They loved taking workshops, performing and just having a grand ol' time with their buddies and can't wait to go back. I LOVE that they love the city. So do I (which I find highly entertaining.)

They are both contact wearers now. As silly as it seems, I love that when I hug and kiss them, my whole cheek can touch their whole cheek and not their glasses. I'm sure that they don't appreciate my rubbing my face up against theirs but it's just a new phenomenon for me. It will get old. Until then, they need to suck it up and let me rub away.

My mom is a rockstar and continues to work and play like a champ - even though she's definitely not 100%, as they say. She and my dad have joined a gym and they go every day. (Some days she goes twice...but that's just to make sure that my dad goes...!!) :) She is done with "western" treatments as none have really seemed to work and she is (understandably) losing her sense of humor about it all. She is now trying out acupuncture and unconventional type things. Just as everyone who has worked with her has done, her acupuncturist LOVES her and keeps her twice as long as she should each week- simply because. Love her.

Because I don't have enough to do, I am working a few hours a week at Artistry Kitchen - my new fav place. Check it out! Way fab! I will be working in their market and I may hostess in their bistro (AK Bistro) every now and again. Considering that, as a child, all I dreamed of was being the hostess at Pipinelles (no joke), I am very excited. They are throwing the idea around of my writing their blog as well. I am worried that writing their blog will require that I not write like such a knucklehead. I'm not sure if I know how to do that - but I'll certainly give it a whirl, if they'd like!! To be continued.

I loved my "first day" last weekend. Fun folks, food, something new - what's not to love? I realized though, that I've not REALLY had to learn much of anything (other than how to be a parent which - truth be told with these two - is sort of easy most of the time) for over 20 years. It's funny to be on the "other side" of training folks and solving problems. Obviously, I learn every day in the classroom and at FSPA but this is different and out of my comfort zone. But now that I think about it, in his new job, I'm dealing with food - so, how can I go wrong, right? Have I mentioned that I'm hungry? When's breakfast?

I told the folks at Artistry Kitchen (who I know quite well as they are FSPA moms) that, while my time at FSPA is quite flexible and my boss is awesome, I obviously can't work "here" when I'm supposed to be at work "there". I said it while pointing to FSPA, which is (of course) just down the street from AK. (Why would I ever wander far from home?) And then, just as I promised, at the end of my first day, I told them, "oh, and I can't work next weekend." In some folks' reality, this would get them fired. In mine, it provides a good laugh and a story. I'm usually good for that, if nothing else.

G is great - his work is busy and nuts but he's knockin' 'em dead and making some changes to how DOT gets things done. Yay him! I don't take for granted how amazing his schedule is. He is home every night for dinner (sometimes even when the girls and I are not) and every weekend. We are very fortunate. He is banging away at the drums whenever he can (much to H and M's dismay) and he makes me laugh (at least most of the time.) He's playing basketball on occasion and will likely start up softball again soon. If he hurts his knee (again), he knows to expect no sympathy from me. I MAY get him some ice and advil but only if the spirit moves me.

I'm sorry that we broke up for a little while - me and you. I will try to be more attentive. Except when "Breaking Bad" is on - then Walt needs all my attention. What a mess that guy is. And I don't imagine he'll get out of it any time soon.

Our Village

An entire month has gone by.

WHAT?!  How could that be?  I'm honestly not that busy.  We are not that busy.  I sort of pride myself on that.  And yet it's been a month.

So, what was January, 2014 for us?

Annual NYE hang at "The Wilsons".  Love it.  Best buds.  Laughs.  Good food.  Great kids.  Games. (I was awful.)  H and M swimming 'til 1 am.  Yes, please. Brats.

Fun New Year's Day hang at our house.  Great way to start the year.  Love.

A complete and 100% surprise trip to Disney.  M and H had no idea.  Fabulous!  A+ for me.  [pardon me as I pat myself on the back]

A quick (but in it's own way, perfect) visit with dear friends who are fighting a battle.  They will win.  They must.

Extra day and night at Disney due to snow up North. Poor us...Eight days and seven nights with The Mouse.  Sign me up.

Home for 2 1/2 days.  Off to NYC with thirty-one FSPA students and their parents.  Great fun.  Proud administrator.  Proud mom.

Work for 2 weeks.

Now, here I sit. 
Heading in to H and M's production week for "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat."   I've always loved this show.  Excited M and H can be a part of it.

One of their best buds is in the kitchen with them as I type.  They are creating some sort of "Toodlebean Commercial".  It will keep them busy for hours.  It will make me smile forever.  These kids.  They chose well.  They make good choices.  May it forever be so.

Then, in a few weeks, we'll head back to NYC with FSPA.  H and M will be a part of this group.  I am off the charts floored by them these days.  They are surprising me with every turn.  They are still the knuckleheads that we've always known and loved.  And yet, at the same time, they are rockin' the world in their own little way.  And I couldn't be prouder.

They have a Village around them.  That fact has never been forgotten by me (or by them.) But recently, it's become even more apparent.  

This Village is built on lots of different things.  Lots of different roads.  Lots of different folks.  Lots of love. Complete and total unconditional love.

These are good kids.  But it's because of their Village.

And for that Village, I am forever grateful.