And she’s down! The little blond wrecking ball; the puppy-slayer; the adorable, Nick-obsessed flirt; the candy monster… is down for the night. I do love her. She’s fearless and relentless and assertive. She’s a thinker. You can already tell that girl has an independent mind. She doesn’t get fooled. Which means, yes, she’s hard to handle. Not so convenient. (Reminds me of a larger issue going on. Bigger scale. Same problem.) I hope she remains that way. Madeline the lion hearted.
Last night, we cooked dinner and just hung out. Katherine and Landry sketched and colored in the lofted window seat, Nick and I cooked, and Paige and Shane tag teamed the tiny terror. Selma Lu hid under the chair out of harm’s way. China let Madeline poke her eyeballs and investigate her teeth and even served as a landing mat for Madeline’s free falls from the sofa pillows. And after all of this, Nick and I learned one very important thing. Our life is so not conducive for kids. Every single thing in our place is a potential weapon. Sharp and heavy objects are everywhere. Open stairs and a second story walkway with railings that a little one could easily slip through, and I don’t have any of the necessities children require. Let’s be honest, I have an antique hatchet on my wall, swords hanging around, and a pretty untamed vocabulary- my place is a time bomb for a toddler. And sure enough, the night ended for Madeline when she, after completely tiring herself out, stumbled backward and landed on her booty, that scraped the side of our chrome and glass table. It went from bonkers to boo-boo to bedtime in about ten minutes. When they all left and we said our good-nights Nick locked the door and turned around to me. I had worked really hard to prepare the perfect frazzled cross-eyed face, complete with a slack jaw. He turned around with pretty much the same face plus a smile and mimicked a bear having been hit with a tranquilizer gun… sort of like Will Ferrell in Old School when he trashed the kid’s birthday party and nearly drowns in the pool. A slow motion timber falling. We laughed so hard. And then when I ran down the hall to hand Paige something that had been left behind, she laughed and said, “I just told Shane, I bet they are giving each other this look right about now. “ He was walking ahead of her and responded, “I don’t even have to turn around. I know exactly which one it is!” Then she got my whole reenactment. It was a bit different than our usual evening of listening to music, reading books and watching movies or documentaries. We have so many nightly discussions and it is relatively quiet all the time here. Now I know that for sure. I have just had comparison.
We journeyed to Williamsburg, VA (again). I leave loving it even more than the time before. The trees were still full of red leaves and Christmas decorations were already displayed in parts of downtown. Katherine was the first to notice the men and women in period attire. Or at least she was the first to speak of her observations aloud. She’s quick on the draw. She sees details and asks questions. On the way to Williamsburg she pointed out each advertising slogan she thought was misleading. Wal-Mart’s Always Low Prices. “They aren’t always low. How can they say that? Not always.” Always is a pretty steep promise, I’ll hand it to her. When we walked along the streets and past the colonial homes, she wanted to go inside every building, whether it was a private residence or public, she asked, “Can we go in?” Her perseverance was amusing. I asked her, “You ask things over and over don’t you? Even if you suspect the answer will be the same.” She said, perfectly forthright, “Yes. When someone says they’ll think about it, I usually wait about ten minutes and ask again.” How absolutely reasonable is that? She is giving ample time to think and is following through. She may be a wonderful businesswoman one day. Ask for what you want. People are inclined to say yes. And the follow through is key.
Landry was a stud. His long hair and slightly shy, slightly knowing grin means one thing: he’s a heartbreaker in the making. He observed. Quietly, he took it all in. He’s a bit more mysterious than his sisters. He has some thoughts held close to the chest. They all have their valuable traits that will serve them well one day in the “real world”.
By the way, what is that about? Is there an unreal world? I understand the saying, but it is sort of ridiculous, no? The real world as opposed to the fake one? Everybody has a different reality. It is all relative, but it is all in the same world. No matter the age or situation everyone's world feels very real to them.
I suppose that could quickly take me off course. I am not intending to nitpick everyday sayings.
Driving home, Paige and I talked, amongst other things, about our favorite music genres and ironically when I got home the American Music Awards were on. I thought it might be nice to watch as I ate a late night dinner. Wrong. I can’t say a whole lot because I didn’t give the show a fair shot. Unfortunately I turned it on as Kesha (I suppose that is how you spell her name) was being introduced and as I watched her perform and tried to understand her lyrics, I noticed my upper lip snarling. I didn’t make out many of the words. I caught some kinda like this, “Ha-ar-ar-ar-ard”… what the hell is that? I didn’t get it at all. I didn’t like the song I heard. I didn’t enjoy the dance (I’m not sure she danced, she sort of stood) and the leotard… let’s just say that all three caused the snarled lip. It is awful to knock a performer. It must be so hard to get up in front of peers and cameras and put it all on the line. And what position am I coming from to criticize? The sofa. I get it.
But. And it is a big but. How many awards can the same industry give? There are so many awards that they give each other. Between the movie industry and music industry there is barely a moment that goes by without a red carpet rolled out. And I do enjoy them. Lots. But, tonight, after having had great discussion and vocalizing my adoration for musicians that I felt were truly poets that expressed such emotion and insight and sang about substance, this glimpse of the award show was enough to make me click off. Do many professions give awards and applaud one another often? Not really. When looking at it that way, it is strange. The whole crying and overly dramatic acceptance bit. My favorite acceptance speech was one that went something like this. “Thank you. This is the pinnacle achievement and moment for me in my career. I feel very honored.” And this man happily grabbed his award and smiled genuinely and it was honest and properly put in perspective I thought. I like seeing all kinds of acceptance speeches, but this was my favorite.
Here’s my award. It is for all of the brave, all the independent, and all the honorable people. To mothers that chase and comfort and teach- and wake up to do it again the next day, and the next, and the next. Their red carpets are having red crayons on the carpet. They get applause from tiny hands that miss as much as they smack together. They accessorize with spit up and splattered mashed carrots. They actually may never get a real thank you. They are left to assume they are appreciated. I give you an award of a word. Acknowledge. We, if not we, then at least I, acknowledge you. Many thanks.
It goes...
To the truth tellers, to real, valid journalists, who risk safety to spread awareness. To the mechanics of the airplanes and the pilots that fly them. To the doctors who treat patients no matter what the circumstance and try their hardest to give life to those that have the strength to fight for it. For the nurses that stay up all night and still smile for their patients. And to the families of the people that go in the hospital and never go out again. Firefighters that do not sit and watch a house with family pets inside burn to the ground, who fight a fire because it is a fire where a fire does not belong, we give a salute. To the farmer that grows wholesome, all natural food. To the stranger that lends a hand to a hungry creature. To all of those that fight for the honor of mankind and the human spirit and of those, that show their honor by extending it to Earth’s animals. To rescuers of any life. And, to artists that expose it all, the word often goes unspoken, enlightenment; it’s a beauty. To troops of true justice seekers.
This is the award show. This is life’s shining stars.
It is a blue moon tonight right? So it is more than appropriate that tonight be yours instead. It may feel like once in a blue moon that you get real recognition. And this isn’t really substantial, but I can speak for society at large and say we appreciate and acknowledge you too. Being a good person is a service, more so than many other positions that supposedly merit the attribution.
And that’s enough from me. I am making myself queasy. That is WAY too much emotional goo for me. I’m sort of light headed.
Maybe Thanksgiving spirit has taken hold. Which reminds me of a special group to include in my award of a word. Native Americans. The Thanksgiving tradition happily celebrated by the nation also signifies when the colonists snatched their space. And also, to the poor gobblers that go down every year in November. Sucks to be a turkey.
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