Friend

Do you ever wonder if there's anyone in your life that you've had an impact on and you don't really know it?

I bet that happens to all of us. We are so busy going about our daily lives that we don't realize that a lot of what we do and say affects others in a very positive way.  We get so caught up in our own lives that we don't see how we impact others.  I also think that sometimes we take our relationships and friendships for granted and we don't always recognize that sometimes just being there for others is so important - even if you feel as if you're not doing anything out of the ordinary for someone.

Well, I want to give a shout out to someone who really has a made and continues to make a huge impact on H and M's lives.  I have tried to tell him, but he just rolls his eyes and makes fun of me.  (Or maybe I just think he's making fun of me.  I tend to do that.)  He truly has no idea how much they think of and care about him.  They see each other so often and sometimes don't have much more than a "hey there" before they all go along their merry way.  Other times, they spend hours together.  He is a HUGE part of our lives and I'm not sure that he knows how special he is to them and to us.

Either way, he is making a huge impact on their lives.  He makes them smile.  He makes them think.  He makes them laugh.  He makes them feel important.  He does that for all of us.   He is beyond words generous with his time, his effort and his heart. If I told him that's how I felt, he'd not believe me.  But it's way true.

He won't even know I'm writing this.  But it makes me happy to write it anyway and, because this blog IS all about me, I'm going for it.

That he doesn't realize what a gift he is to us it truly a puzzle to me...
Our lives are more full (or is it fuller?) because of him...

So, thanks.

The Table

I'm sitting in my kitchen, waiting for the life insurance gal to get here to do my physical so that I can renew my life insurance policy.  Ho hum.

Anyway, as I sit here waiting, it reminds me of the time when G and I were getting our dining room table delivered. It was one of our first "real" purchases for our house and I was so excited.  We had to work and couldn't be home for the delivery so I asked my Usher Dupey ("Little Man" blogpost) if he could wait at our house.

I swear, he got here HOURS earlier than he needed to.  He was SO excited to be a part of the day.  I'm sure he asked the delivery guy questions about how the table was made and how it should be cleaned.  I'm sure he gave him suggestions on how he could have been doing a better job.  I'm sure he swore at the guy under his breath (sort of) for numerous things.  I'm sure the delivery guy was pleased...he just wanted to get rid of the damn table.

Usher Dupey couldn't wait for us to get home so that we could check out the table and make sure that everything was okay.  I imagine him signing the delivery slip with a big smile on his face.  To him this document was as important as the Constitution.  He was truly the cutest little thing in the world.

Man, do I miss him.

Time Flies

You know, how some people draw hash marks on the doorframe to see how big their kids are getting?  Well, instead, I tend to use our guest room bed each spring.  Each year around this time, the bed becomes covered with Spring Concert costumes, tights, dance shoes and all the "stuff" that goes with it.  Last night, after the kids went to bed, I organized everything in preparation for their rehearsals next week. 

And, it was then that it struck me again that these kids, they are a-growin' up.  (Well, they are still "little" - will they EVER not need a child's small dance costume?)  But gone are the cutsy costumes.  This is the first year, where they have "big kid" costumes.  Now, please don't get me wrong - they are clearly not donning a classical tutu next weekend.  (They probably never will...)  And surely, their costumes, music, make-up and hair will always be "appropriate". We pride ourselves of this fact at FSPA, but this is not a plug for FSPA, 'cuz this blog is "all about me." But my point is they are also no longer dancing to Cinderella's Mouse March with magic wands in their hands.  When did that happen?

Last week, we were watching old Spring Concert videos of them with tears running down our faces we were laughing so hard.  They both were these little munchkins doing their thing on stage - totally clueless, often toothless, totally proud of their flap ball changes and curtsies. 

Now, they are to wear ballet studs next weekend (that's apparently a big deal) and, on Friday, they will learn how to apply their own ballet make-up and make their own buns. (M has been making her bun forEVER.  I NEVER do it right...)

Anyway, while I love to see their progress each year, (they are honestly better tappers now than I ever was, I think...), I still miss the "Olden Days."



Polychenelles in FPAC's Nutcracker



On the way to perform with Future Shock at Mechanics Hall



First Spring Concert ever - little elephants



Heading to Luciano's for the Gala



"Bunnies" (love you, Auntie Hil...)

...sigh...  

Sometimes You See Just What You Need To Make You Smile...

...And right now, this picture was it. 

H20

Eleven weeks.  Seventy-seven days.  One thousand eight hundred and forty-eight hours.  One hundred and ten thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes.

Okay – you get the point.

That’s how long I was on bed rest while pregnant with H and M.  At the time, many folks were like “enjoy this time because once you have twins, you’ll not have peace and quiet for years.”  Yah, yah, yah – that was true, but really what I wanted to do was be able to sit up. Doing everything while laying down got really old - really quickly. 

Anyway, after about nine weeks, my doctor said that I could start to move around a bit. At that point, she wouldn’t have been so concerned if H and M were born. I clearly wasn’t being given permission to run laps around the house, but I could go out and about and I assure you that doing silly little things like getting the mail and going to a restaurant was never so much fun. (Of course, the first meal "out" I had was at Pipinelle’s. Man, how I miss that place!)

On November 10^th,  two weeks in to my newfound freedom, some best buds were in town and we were all at H’s parents’ house.  I can’t at all recall whey they were all “home” but it was lovely to hang.  At the end of the night, D offered to drive me home.  (Yes, in case you’re curious, my arms weren’t long enough to reach the steering wheel because my stomach was so huge. Remember my beach ball blog?)

On the way home, I was explaining to her that I was worried that I’d not know that I was in labor. She, who had given birth less than a year earlier, was now a pro and she assured me that, likely, my water would break and that it would be painfully obvious.  (Pardon the pun.)  She knows me better than most and we both agreed that if anyone would be unclear as to whether or not she was in labor, it would be me.   We LITERALLY were talking about it as she pulled in to our driveway.  I hugged her (sad because she was heading back down to North Carolina again) and proceeded to put my foot on the driveway. 

Yep.  You guessed it.  My water broke. Right in her dad’s car.  (To the best of my knowledge, it was his brand new car but, over the course of these ten plus years, I may have made up that fact to make the story better, I’m not sure.  I’ll have to find out.)

Anyway, I honestly don’t think the two of us have ever laughed so hard in our entire lives.  I was laughing so hard I felt like I was peeing my pants…wait a minute…

We both went in to the house.  I went upstairs to get my bag (I’d had eleven weeks to pack it and it was clearly ready to go!)  D went down to the basement where G and one of our best friends, M, were playing darts. She was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out to tell them that their game of darts was abruptly coming to an end.  I think that G and M were so nervous, thinking that I was going to give birth right in the livingroom.  Meanwhile, D and I hadn’t seen anything quite so funny.  I have laughed pretty damn hard with this girl for decades.  This was just one of many funny, funny stories to add to our book, for sure. 

G and I hopped in the car and headed in to Boston.  I'm not quite sure if D and M left our house before us or if they were still at our house when we left.  (Maybe they finished the guys' game of darts...) We called my parents who were (of course) making homemade macaroni with dear, dear friends and assured them that there was no need to rush in.  We hung up and G and I laughed at the mere suggestion that my parents would actually wait more than ninety seconds before hitting the road.

I don't remember what G and I talked about on the ride.  I do remember that although I was already very much uncomfortable and in pain, I have honestly, never been so content in my life.  I have thought about that night a lot since then and I would love to feel that way again.  (Um...just not while pregnant so I guess I'm one and done with that feeling of contentment). 

Without question, if I had to relive that night again, from start to finish - I wouldn’t change a thing.  It was one of the best nights ever. 

And Mr. D – sorry about your car…I bet you'd change at least one thing about that night if you could...

Amen

I have to admit that I was a bit worried about this before they were born.  Now, I don't worry any more.  I just cry with relief.  I am proud. Very, very proud.

To Whom It May Concern:

I wrote this letter a few days ago.  You may have seen it.

 

"Dear Future Spouses of Madison and Hannah, I am trying to impress upon them the fact that simply hiding their dirty socks and underwear behind the trash in their bathroom does not ensure that it will get washed and or put away. So far, I have not been successful in my teachings. I continue to remain committed to this process on your behalf. You're welcome".

 

I now have another to add.

 

"Hello.  It's me again.  This Future Mother-In-Law business is tough work.  I feel as if it's only fair that I warn you.  (At least at the current moment), your lovely future brides prefer to go to bed with "the day" still on their faces. Washing their faces with soap and water before bed seems to allude them.  The fact that they don't seem to be bothered by the grime is disturbing.  Equally disturbing is the fact that they insist that they simply 'forget'.  (We must not be dealing with rocket scientists, here.)  I had a FIT before bedtime last night (not my proudest moment) but when I closed the door, they were so upset, they went right to sleep and didn't even chat for a minute. So, if ever you want to make them stop talking as you're trying to hit the hay, just bring up sludge-face and they'll roll over and go right to sleep.  On a good note, your favorite father-in-law went in to talk to them (he was the "good cop") and told them it was not a big deal but a) wash their stinkin' faces and b) to be sure to apologize for being knuckleheads and making me annoyed for something so dumb and making us all upset.  They apologized as soon as they woke me up this morning.  So you'll be happen to know that they aren't too proud to say 'I'm sorry.'"  (At least we're doing something right.)