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?)...