Christmas Road Trip – Part II

Day 2 and 3 of my trip to New York turned out to be visiting days.

I drove to see Little Lacie of the Enormous Brain Friday morning. We were able to spend a few hours laughing and enjoying each other’s company. You would never know she had her head opened up a spare 3 weeks ago.

She swears she has an amazing XFiles clock her husband John bought at a garage sale, but she could not produce it, so I am skeptical. I worried that her zipper head might bust open and urged her to stop looking for it. We are considering sharing custody of the clock and doing a whole “Sisterhood of the Traveling Scully and Mulder Clock”. It might have many adventures. You never know…could be a whole thing…

After that, I spent a few hours with my kids at a local mall. This was a mistake since 1) it was the day after Christmas and the mall was packed and 2) I hate shopping. I have deduced that the shopping gene skipped a generation and went directly into my daughter’s DNA because I hate it.

I then drove up to visit an old high school friend and was regaled with a host of marvelous tales. I am going to call my friend “Namid”, this is not her real name, but it’s very apropos – it means “Star Dancer” in Hopi. Nami (I’ve already shortened it) and her husband “Takoda”
(“Friend to Everyone” in Sioux) have met with dozens of celebrities – not just spotted, but the hand shaking, have a drink with me, “Hey Koda!! Come get a picture with us!” kind of meet that has a fabulous story every single time. Hopefully I will get to share some of them in the future.

Day 3 was icy. We stayed in and played Rock Band – I kicked some vocalist ass if I may say so and had a wonderful time. Went to mass, visited with the priest for a bit – very dear to us – he was really good to my kids while they were growing up. Went home, bed early, which was good because I was plenty tired.

Our final day started peacefully; the kids sat out in the kitchen talking and laughing while I caught up on my Korean Drama. My sister and her family came by and I enjoyed every minute. We visited for a few hours and then it was time to go.

The ride back was uneventful, save for some traffic in Pennsylvania. The trip was made pleasant by Kasey Kasem’s American Top 100 for the Year 1984 . We got home at 7:30 pm and I was in bed by 9pm.

It’s never enough time, but it’s always good getting home.

Road Trip - Hi Moms Dinner

I remark all the time what great kids I have. My kids also have the benefit of belonging to a splendid family.

On the drive up, I imagined cars from the entire east coast converging toward Newport. We had family and friends from New York, Virginia, South Carolina, and Florida all driving together to celebrate Adam's achievement.

Adam and I had been working on a list for graduation for several weeks. In the end we had the largest crowd of family and friends at graduation - 14 - which I know meant a lot to him. Rain was forecast which sorely disappointed the boy; he had so much wanted to run in cadence with his brother and his friend William. There was also a whole PT thing that got canceled.

There were only 10 chairs per table and being the rebellious lot were were, we broke some protocol by stealing chairs and place settings from another table. We all wanted to sit together. It worked, our table was the most fun. The Long Island Iced Tea didn't hurt. We were regaled with stories about his War Spoon, and methods used by the Marine Drill Instructors to whip the soon-to-be-officers into shape. Adam is a wonderful storyteller - something he gets from his Dad. He had us laughing all evening.

When we got a look at Adam's DI, everyone at the table started saying, "Mayo! I want you D.O.R.!" "I got no place else to gooooooooo....I got....nuthin'!" We are not very original, but we are fun. The DI did make the class do push ups while yelling, (down) "When the mind fails to comprehend! (up) The body must be punished!" The class loved it. They loved him. Though I suspect that if they met him as a civilian on the street, even outranking him, they will never be able to look him in the eye.

It was the night I realized that not much else awaits me but grandchildren and death. Here I was - my kids and their friends all wanted me to go out drinking with them. How many parents get that compliment? And how I wanted to - but I had a dog doped up in my hotel room and bless me, I was just tired. Blah blah appendicitis blah blah drove 9 hours blah blah let the kids have fun blaaaaahhhhh blahhhhhh I should have gone.

I learned the next day that the kids headed to some bar where Eddie Money was apparently playing - time hasn't been particularly kind to Eddie, so I'm told. But what the hell? Me either. Adam was enjoying the attentions of some Eddie groupies; one who could rival Hallmark's "Maxine" for crusty nicotine throat and the other younger one - well, let's just say that Adam's brother tore him away before he needed a layered course of antibiotics for the rest of his life.

The kids had fun, got in early (about 11:30 pm I'd say; not late at all). We all got a good night sleep.

In the Navy

Expecting the Village People? Yeah, I thought about embedding the song. But as I listened to it I thought it lacked dignity and my son's decision to enter into the US Navy was worth more than that suggested.

My son registered at Naval Officer Candidate School on Sunday in the nuclear submarine program. Having no immediate experience of the military (I have uncles, cousins and friends who entered, but it's not immediate enough for me) I've been pretty anxious. I found a wonderful website:

http://www.navyformoms.com/

full of wonderful supportive and warm women who have also sent their children into the Navy. Their tagline; "You gave them the values, we give them the opportunity." made me burst into tears yesterday. Lot of stuff making me burst into tears over this lately. But its a great site, full of suggestions, what to expect, what not to expect, when to expect it, pictures, videos and camaraderie; a sort of face book for Navy Moms.

I think I'm going to need it. He graduates in 12 weeks.

Homecoming Week

Bee Gees Song of the Day: Nights on Broadway

Here we are. In a room full of strangers
Standing in the dark. Where your eyes couldn't see me
Well I had to follow you, though you did not want me to
That won't stop my love for you
I can't stay away

I interrupt my narrative to talk about high school.

It is Homecoming Week. Sport Enthusiast Day, Pep rallies, bonfires. I remember those days. My graduating class, Frankfort-Schuyler's Class of 1982, due to the amazing artistic gifts of those talented people, our float took first prize every single year. It was such a fun time.

I haven't been a Maroon Knight for 25 years. Seriously, in one's personal novel of life, high school holds just a few chapters. But the color in those chapters is so diverse, so full of drama and yearning and pain and joy and fun that they are not to be missed or read over carelessly.

I went to my daughter's Powder Puff football game last night. The Junior Girls versus the Senior Girls. The Seniors won – that was sad. But what was wonderful was the energy and the fun that IS high school.

The Senior side of the football field was quiet overall. Parents coming to the event were sparse; few and far between. I strolled over to the Junior side of the field, weaving in between students holding hands, boys horsing around, girls talking about the boys horsing around, kids eating hot dogs, drinking soda, lined up outside the bathroom. As I approached the Junior side of the field, the noise level increased. The bleachers were full of parents. The crowd screamed and cheered. Six boys were on the track doing cheers, egging the crowd on. I named several of them. One was "Hairy" , which is self explanatory, as is "Knee-hi" and "Spaz". Knee-hi wowed the audience with his back flips. Nothing was spared in an effort to pump up the crowd. Spaz just kept running back and forth screaming.

At half time, four senior boys got on to the middle of the field and lip synced something that sounded like the Back Street Boys. It was cute. A young lady was then called to the field. "Will Melanie Blah Blah please go to the middle of the field?" Nothing more embarrassing than that. "TO THE MIDDLE" as she tried to stay near the sidelines. "Melanie, will you go to homecoming with Jason Blab Blab?" Squeals, shrieks, she covers her face. "Is that a YES?" She nodded, and everyone applauded. It was fabulous.

I got to meet my daughter's beau. I was sophomorically pleased at seeing how cute he was. My daughter's friends and I all squealed with delight at his cuteness. And it warmed me that her friends are so happy for her. I was introduced to the young man and was pleased at the clear and honest look in his eye. Indeed, I liked the cut of his jib. I tried to appear casual as they walked off the field together to get her bag. She's 16 now and according to house rules, able to date. I can now only hope that 16 years of drilling appropriate behavior and self-respect have done their job and she's prepared for this toe-dip-in-the-water foray into adulthood.

While I am thrilled and shrieking with delight at prospect of her first date, I'm already preparing for her first real heartbreak. As a parent, one has to be eight steps ahead of the ball. Her brothers and their friends will be down in mere hours to break his legs if he hurts her. I have it all worked out.

Homecoming game on Friday. Dance on Saturday. A young lady growing up. These are days that will fly for her. These are days I will never get back. So I write them in my book and I keep the pages special. I mark the chapters, so that if she ever comes back to read them after I'm gone, she will know how privileged I felt that she shared them with me.

Expert Situation Diffusement

Most, if not all, of you know that of my three children Adam had been my greatest challenge. Always agile minded to my stumbling ineptitude even when he was very small. (Of course, considering the direction this brilliant young man is headed, I'd like to think that it was two like minds clashing).

No matter what the occasion, Adam would take an opportunity to position himself on the side in opposition to mine. I'm reminded of when Adam was 7 years old, I asked him and his brother to clean off the dinner table. Adam suggested I get off my lazy butt and do it myself. This was said in such an engaging way that I found it hard to punish him, but not to worry, I overcame my weakness and smacked him good. As it was, I think I helped clean off the table in the end.

One Friday evening, probaby 2 years after Rob and I divorced, I had taken Adam and Meg out to dinner during Lent. Always in search of a good steak, I reminded Adam that he was not allowed to eat meat on the Fridays during the season. Disappointed that he wouldn't be able to order what he wanted, Adam decided to lay vent to his spleen, attacking me, the church, Pope John Paul II, Father Swain, the priesthood, the XFiles, my commute to work, small town life, the price of celery, small baby ducks and puppies. The conversation disintegrated.

There have only been two people in my life that have been able to press my buttons to great success - one would be Rob (while were dating and married anyway) and the other Adam. This day, Adam expertly pressed every button I had, fashioned a few out of scallops located at the buffet, pressed those and sat back to reap the pleasure of my sputtering pathetic retorts.

Worked up into a frothy bubbling stew, I stared the little smirking b*stard down. In my ire, it hadn't occurred to me that he just wanted to p*ss me off because he couldn't order a steak. "Well? You think you know so much? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO THAT MISTER?"

Warmth and affection were alight in Adam's eyes. I had apparently missed this in my fury. In his finest Scottish accent Adam quoted Mel Gibson in Braveheart saying; "I love you. Always have."

I was immediately reduced to slop.