Donnie is tamping down the new laid sand in the nearly completed west wing of the chicken coop. He got the sand from the nearly six feet deep hole he dug over in the side yard. Every year or two he digs a wide deep hole. He pulls out the lovely sand from the ancient ocean floor that once covered our little farm. He uses the sand throughout the yard for any number of projects.
We then spend the next year or so filling in the hole with chicken manure and the pine shavings and bunny manure. A touch of lime, the occasional carcass of a dearly departed pet, and fall leaves all add up to some mighty fine compost for the garden beds.
I am digging out the old herb bed in the garden that is nearly overrun with the pretty but invasive bugle weed. I have a whole hole full of lovely crumbly brown compost dirt to remake the bed with. Don is also expanding the Kiwanee cement block garden bed he made for me last year. Lots of fresh dirt will go in there.
As I sit before the fire trying not to notice how stiff my typing fingers are becoming because of the cold (Funny how warm you are working in the garden in March, at least until you sit to take a break...then the cold creeps in!) I plot and plan this years crop.
Meanwhile Don is recycling the old chainlink dog kennel that belonged to Champ. It is rusty along one corner where the wonder dog preferred to pee. He tamps down sand where a short time before Nikki and I excavated topsoil. We lugged the topsoil to finish covering up the septic tank that had been left exposed so the Cucka Sucka could do its smelly job.
Don is edging the west play yard of the coop with old blocks from my mom's house. The bricks will offer support for the fencing and keep the chickens from digging out of of their yard. Should prevent any creature from digging in as well!
When the westyard is done he will work on an eastern facing yard for them as well. In the middle will be half of Mary's bunny barn shortly to become a spacious chicken coop. The other side will still house a much reduced bunny herd. Julie and Tim are pretrty much getting out of the bunny business but we always have room for old retired favorites!
Tim has been busily moving brush to the fire and Joe keeps coming by to roast marshmallows and talk my ear off. He is suppose to be helping Uncle Yon rake a neighbors yard but his attention span prevents any real work getting done!
I frankly do not mind the company, Nikki and Jamie have long since moved on to other things. While Don and Tim are hardworking steady men they prefer to do so in near silence and I prefer a more convivial atmosphere while I rake and shovel and attack the wild cherry and rugosa suckers that insist on invading my garden. The stubborn rugosa fights back and I find myself entangled in briars as I wrestle them towards the fire pit.
In one corner, near the garden sand box I clip persistent cherry suckers. As I crouch I can smell the peppermint that is just peeping out from the ground. Peppermint too is invasive but it is hard to hold a grudge against something that smells and tastes so good.
As we cleaned up around the little pond and Donnie repaired the waterfall we discivered 3 fish who survived the winter! There is always soemthing new to uncover or rediscover out here on our little farm.
I cannot help but think of those lovely 14 acres I saw yestyerday in Plympton when looking at the 1765 for sale home with my Mary. I always dreamed of a big farm. But we have a lot going on our postage stamp size lot. It is amazing what can be nurtured on an acre when given enough sun, water, food and a little attention.
Ok my fingers are numb. Working in the garden in March is great. Sitting and blogging about it while I can still see my breath, not so much!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
A Saturday in March
Interesting day today. Various children had 4H and work and therefore needed to be transported to different places at different times. Meanwhile Mary and Matt have been checking out Open Houses, Don has been refereeing hockey games, and I have fantasies that our yard will NOT look like Rosanne Barr's, but will instead will have some semblance of normalcy.
By day's end certain conclusions could be reached. Number one is I cannot possibly go to Open Houses with my darling Mary and Matt. Today for instance they looked at a house built in 1765. It came with an outhouse, a chicken coop, a workshop that still housed both a valuables safe AND a gun safe (it was Plympton after all!) a 2 stall barn and a chicken coop! All on 14 acres, a largely cultivated lot with a quirky home and lots of gardening -oh yes do not forget the one seater outhouse!
The entire time I tried to figure out how We could buy it!
In my real life, the Senate has just recessed for a 2 week vacation. Before they left , Republican Senator somebody or other voted no to extend the Unemployment long term health insurance and benefits. The Repubs are mad at the Dems and want to make a point. The Dems are smug at the Repubs and want to make a point. Meanwhile as of the beginning of May our family is screwed, and not in the good way. (My friend Marguerite put it that way and I thought it was cute. At least until it actually happens to me!!!)
The press do not find unemployed people, the LEAST bit interesting and so it does not even signify a by line in a newspaper. If only Brangelina would adopt an unemployed person, or if Madonna would divorce one of them, that might make the news!!!!
Today I tried not to panic about what looms in the future. I worked on our garden. I repaired birdhouses and bird feeders, the local birds depend on me. They have no idea about the unfriendly economy! I played with our new next door puppy. I planted and transplanted.
I cooked and I cleaned. I organised The Tupperware cabinets. I mixed a cocktail or two and baked Donnie an apple pie. I have this thought that if I am nice enough, if I am good enough, if I am kind enough and work hard enough, that everything will work out just fine.
In the morning we will all go to 9 o'clock Mass and sit through the LOOOOOOOOOOOOONg Palm Sunday Services. We will pray and be good. Then we will do yard work, make the new chicken coop, work on the garden, and be kind to one another.
But it is not enough. Our lives our held hostage by a governing body who has no idea what it is to WANT. They have never had to tell their child that there is NO money for a school field trip or a season of baseball.
We will be fine of course because really who wants a home with a 38 year mortgage? Who wants a home that has 9 people and one bath and a roof that leaks if the wind changes just right? No one wants our little bunnies or chickens or apple trees. No one really cares that next month those stupid caterpillars awake and will want to devour my dwarf apple trees. The trees are above our fresh water well so we will fight those damn bugs without chemicals. No one really cares.
That is mostly OK because I care enough for all of us. I care about Stumpy the 4 year old squirrel that runs along our back fence. (His tail was half eaten by our cat but he prevails.) I care about the wild violets that still grow in our side yard. I care about the wild blueberry bush that is slowly outpacing the scrub oak in our Oriental garden. I care about the treefort that is listing, and the fenceposts that are rotting. I care about the rugosa roses and the twisted birch that we transplanted from Major's island. ( I even know who the Major was, what he looked like! What he suffered for our Union!) I care about the remembrance crocus' that came from my Mom's yard. I care that the beauty bush is nourished from the decaying body of Rainy, Tim's favorite bunny!
I know each bird nest, each bunny, each robin. I nurture the lilac trees from Donnie's mum's yard. I eagerly await for Dee's grandmothers' bells to come up. I do not know what they are really called. I just smile and think of her grandmother when they blossom.
I await the bloom of the "play plants" those that featured in our community theater plays. Sunflowers and heliotrope from Our Town, foxglove and Jacobs ladder from Murder mystery's.
Or grape vine that covers Donnie's arbour. The strawberries, and blackberries, the herbs. I hover over all of it and try to derive comfort from the repetative chores of early spring.
It is of course the height of uncontrolled ego to be godlike and know each sparrow, each plant , by name. Surely the Senate will pass the extended unemployement benefits to its diligent but unemployed citizens. Of course we will all get our happy endings. It will all be fine.
But I watch as Don grows all the more quiet, all the more pensive. Out of work for 6 months and only one nibble for his resume. No call backs, no interviews. How lovely for the Senate to take a 2 week vacation.
I wonder if they count their lilac bushes? I wonder if they fill their own bird feeders? I wonder if they sleep soundly at night?
By day's end certain conclusions could be reached. Number one is I cannot possibly go to Open Houses with my darling Mary and Matt. Today for instance they looked at a house built in 1765. It came with an outhouse, a chicken coop, a workshop that still housed both a valuables safe AND a gun safe (it was Plympton after all!) a 2 stall barn and a chicken coop! All on 14 acres, a largely cultivated lot with a quirky home and lots of gardening -oh yes do not forget the one seater outhouse!
The entire time I tried to figure out how We could buy it!
In my real life, the Senate has just recessed for a 2 week vacation. Before they left , Republican Senator somebody or other voted no to extend the Unemployment long term health insurance and benefits. The Repubs are mad at the Dems and want to make a point. The Dems are smug at the Repubs and want to make a point. Meanwhile as of the beginning of May our family is screwed, and not in the good way. (My friend Marguerite put it that way and I thought it was cute. At least until it actually happens to me!!!)
The press do not find unemployed people, the LEAST bit interesting and so it does not even signify a by line in a newspaper. If only Brangelina would adopt an unemployed person, or if Madonna would divorce one of them, that might make the news!!!!
Today I tried not to panic about what looms in the future. I worked on our garden. I repaired birdhouses and bird feeders, the local birds depend on me. They have no idea about the unfriendly economy! I played with our new next door puppy. I planted and transplanted.
I cooked and I cleaned. I organised The Tupperware cabinets. I mixed a cocktail or two and baked Donnie an apple pie. I have this thought that if I am nice enough, if I am good enough, if I am kind enough and work hard enough, that everything will work out just fine.
In the morning we will all go to 9 o'clock Mass and sit through the LOOOOOOOOOOOOONg Palm Sunday Services. We will pray and be good. Then we will do yard work, make the new chicken coop, work on the garden, and be kind to one another.
But it is not enough. Our lives our held hostage by a governing body who has no idea what it is to WANT. They have never had to tell their child that there is NO money for a school field trip or a season of baseball.
We will be fine of course because really who wants a home with a 38 year mortgage? Who wants a home that has 9 people and one bath and a roof that leaks if the wind changes just right? No one wants our little bunnies or chickens or apple trees. No one really cares that next month those stupid caterpillars awake and will want to devour my dwarf apple trees. The trees are above our fresh water well so we will fight those damn bugs without chemicals. No one really cares.
That is mostly OK because I care enough for all of us. I care about Stumpy the 4 year old squirrel that runs along our back fence. (His tail was half eaten by our cat but he prevails.) I care about the wild violets that still grow in our side yard. I care about the wild blueberry bush that is slowly outpacing the scrub oak in our Oriental garden. I care about the treefort that is listing, and the fenceposts that are rotting. I care about the rugosa roses and the twisted birch that we transplanted from Major's island. ( I even know who the Major was, what he looked like! What he suffered for our Union!) I care about the remembrance crocus' that came from my Mom's yard. I care that the beauty bush is nourished from the decaying body of Rainy, Tim's favorite bunny!
I know each bird nest, each bunny, each robin. I nurture the lilac trees from Donnie's mum's yard. I eagerly await for Dee's grandmothers' bells to come up. I do not know what they are really called. I just smile and think of her grandmother when they blossom.
I await the bloom of the "play plants" those that featured in our community theater plays. Sunflowers and heliotrope from Our Town, foxglove and Jacobs ladder from Murder mystery's.
Or grape vine that covers Donnie's arbour. The strawberries, and blackberries, the herbs. I hover over all of it and try to derive comfort from the repetative chores of early spring.
It is of course the height of uncontrolled ego to be godlike and know each sparrow, each plant , by name. Surely the Senate will pass the extended unemployement benefits to its diligent but unemployed citizens. Of course we will all get our happy endings. It will all be fine.
But I watch as Don grows all the more quiet, all the more pensive. Out of work for 6 months and only one nibble for his resume. No call backs, no interviews. How lovely for the Senate to take a 2 week vacation.
I wonder if they count their lilac bushes? I wonder if they fill their own bird feeders? I wonder if they sleep soundly at night?
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Annual Migration of the pea seeds.
Well a sign that spring has begun, a bunch of peas that were planted on Saturday have pushed their way up to the soil's surface. Happens every year. The powerhouse of stored energy within a veggie seed is too strong to allow it to remain peacefully below the earth's surface. Instead this gardener will spend the next few days coaxing the little seeds back undergound.
The rain I suppose may have contributed to the abundance of pea seeds needing cover. I remember my very first planting ever of peas had to be a do over. Back in those days I planted directly into the ground, none of this raised bed business. Since the garden was created in a low spot in our yard the rains washed all my hard work away into a little pond of rain water.
This year my seeds were lovingly planted in the highest of my raised beds. The double high beds were created using cement blocks from an old Camp Kiwanee building. I managed to grab a few more bricks this year and hope to extend that bed. Never enough space for all the veggies I want to grow.
For instance both potatoes and corn take up a ton of room. But they are so satisfying to grow. I am hoping to start corn in the kitchen greenhouse, have been collecting empty toilet paper rolls for just such a purpose.The long narrow rolls allow for good root growth, essential for a tall plant. Plus the rolls disintergrate into the ground thereby avoiding the need to disturb the fragile root growth by bumping the seedlings out of their planter.
All this garden work and talk and planning and it is still not unlikely that more snow will head our way. But most of my plants remain warmly snug in the kitchen starter greenhouse. Peas however are a hardy little plant and thrive in the cool weather. Their energy cannot be contained in the cool garden bed and therefor each year a bunch of seeds migrate to the surface, so eager are they to face the sunshine. Today I will cover them back up with soil, both garden and gardener impatient for spring.
The rain I suppose may have contributed to the abundance of pea seeds needing cover. I remember my very first planting ever of peas had to be a do over. Back in those days I planted directly into the ground, none of this raised bed business. Since the garden was created in a low spot in our yard the rains washed all my hard work away into a little pond of rain water.
This year my seeds were lovingly planted in the highest of my raised beds. The double high beds were created using cement blocks from an old Camp Kiwanee building. I managed to grab a few more bricks this year and hope to extend that bed. Never enough space for all the veggies I want to grow.
For instance both potatoes and corn take up a ton of room. But they are so satisfying to grow. I am hoping to start corn in the kitchen greenhouse, have been collecting empty toilet paper rolls for just such a purpose.The long narrow rolls allow for good root growth, essential for a tall plant. Plus the rolls disintergrate into the ground thereby avoiding the need to disturb the fragile root growth by bumping the seedlings out of their planter.
All this garden work and talk and planning and it is still not unlikely that more snow will head our way. But most of my plants remain warmly snug in the kitchen starter greenhouse. Peas however are a hardy little plant and thrive in the cool weather. Their energy cannot be contained in the cool garden bed and therefor each year a bunch of seeds migrate to the surface, so eager are they to face the sunshine. Today I will cover them back up with soil, both garden and gardener impatient for spring.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
When you are very very rich
Once when the Megamillions jackpot was very high and Donnie eagerly bought a ticket I expressed my concern about all the problems that would go along with having so much money. Without missing a beat he replied, "I know all about the problems of the poor having faced them all my life. I would be interested in learning the problems of the rich. I think I can take it."
As I am sure you are aware his faithful weekly purchase of a lottery ticket has yet to bear fruit, but he is ever the optimist.
Financial impoverishment aside we are of course some of the wealthiest people around. First, in spite of his being out of work nearly six months we remain caught up on all our bills. During the mid 80s and again in the early 2000s when everyone seemed so comfortable racking up greater and greater debt and refinancing their homes multiple times we remained too cautious to do so.
TV, movies, ads all made it appear that we were foolish and somehow unAmerican not to shop until we dropped. I claim no greater wisdom than the greater populace and the shakiness of our finances certainly points to a lack of careful planning on our parts. But I am very relieved we did not get ourselves into a deep dark financial hole.
For now we only have our mortgage and college loan debts. Add to that the typical stuff, heat, electricity, and a phone bill that is of course phoneS, TV, and computer. All this blah blah is to say we are getting by.
Our riches lie in other areas however and I am sitting next to a goldmine of wealth. The boys are swinging noisily from the tree fort and across the zip line. They occasionally pause to pat Paleface as he insists on being a part of their mischief.
Bambam keeps escaping from the backyard fence to lounge at my feet, determined not to miss anything. The chickens are reveling in sunshine and freedom after being cooped up in their sodden pen during all the recent and near continuous rain.
Donnie has been measuring and discussing a new and improved coop for the chickies that will enable them to have more sunshine and less escape routes. Nikki has friends over and they parade about in their short shorts, tumbling on our gymnastics mat and texting other friends.
I have a pocket full of pea seeds for the first planting and my herbs are really thriving in the kitchen. I know not to be fooled by this early spring warmth. It will get cool again and I dare not risk my fragile herbs health. But the peas love the cool air and os I have high hopes for them.
Three goldfish survived the winter in the garden pond and Donnie continues to revise the waterfall leading into it. We have new pets coming this spring, a dog for my brother Yon definitely and a couple of other animals to be named later when Donnie again has full time work. Meanwhile there are fences to be mended and a few trees to come down.
I am determined that the side yard NOT be an eyesore for our ever patient neighbors -One of whom moved up to Donnie's favorites list. How did she do that you ask? She got her son a little puppy. Donnie wishes all the neighbors would do their parts and get more pets and babies so I could visit and play with them to my hearts content but then they would return home.
Ok I have eaten outside before the fire. We tease that the Blausses are all pyros and I pretend a bemused indifference. But of course I could hardly waitt to get the bonfire going this morning. I have eaten lunch out by it and I busily type next to it now.
I am off to the riches of my garden to move manure and plant little seeds. I will hustle over to visit the little puppy marvel at the tulips and daffodils poking out of the ground. I will chat with neighbors and tease their children and maybe allow a marshmallow time around the burning wood.
Spring is here. We have our health and our hearth and indeed are very very rich,
As I am sure you are aware his faithful weekly purchase of a lottery ticket has yet to bear fruit, but he is ever the optimist.
Financial impoverishment aside we are of course some of the wealthiest people around. First, in spite of his being out of work nearly six months we remain caught up on all our bills. During the mid 80s and again in the early 2000s when everyone seemed so comfortable racking up greater and greater debt and refinancing their homes multiple times we remained too cautious to do so.
TV, movies, ads all made it appear that we were foolish and somehow unAmerican not to shop until we dropped. I claim no greater wisdom than the greater populace and the shakiness of our finances certainly points to a lack of careful planning on our parts. But I am very relieved we did not get ourselves into a deep dark financial hole.
For now we only have our mortgage and college loan debts. Add to that the typical stuff, heat, electricity, and a phone bill that is of course phoneS, TV, and computer. All this blah blah is to say we are getting by.
Our riches lie in other areas however and I am sitting next to a goldmine of wealth. The boys are swinging noisily from the tree fort and across the zip line. They occasionally pause to pat Paleface as he insists on being a part of their mischief.
Bambam keeps escaping from the backyard fence to lounge at my feet, determined not to miss anything. The chickens are reveling in sunshine and freedom after being cooped up in their sodden pen during all the recent and near continuous rain.
Donnie has been measuring and discussing a new and improved coop for the chickies that will enable them to have more sunshine and less escape routes. Nikki has friends over and they parade about in their short shorts, tumbling on our gymnastics mat and texting other friends.
I have a pocket full of pea seeds for the first planting and my herbs are really thriving in the kitchen. I know not to be fooled by this early spring warmth. It will get cool again and I dare not risk my fragile herbs health. But the peas love the cool air and os I have high hopes for them.
Three goldfish survived the winter in the garden pond and Donnie continues to revise the waterfall leading into it. We have new pets coming this spring, a dog for my brother Yon definitely and a couple of other animals to be named later when Donnie again has full time work. Meanwhile there are fences to be mended and a few trees to come down.
I am determined that the side yard NOT be an eyesore for our ever patient neighbors -One of whom moved up to Donnie's favorites list. How did she do that you ask? She got her son a little puppy. Donnie wishes all the neighbors would do their parts and get more pets and babies so I could visit and play with them to my hearts content but then they would return home.
Ok I have eaten outside before the fire. We tease that the Blausses are all pyros and I pretend a bemused indifference. But of course I could hardly waitt to get the bonfire going this morning. I have eaten lunch out by it and I busily type next to it now.
I am off to the riches of my garden to move manure and plant little seeds. I will hustle over to visit the little puppy marvel at the tulips and daffodils poking out of the ground. I will chat with neighbors and tease their children and maybe allow a marshmallow time around the burning wood.
Spring is here. We have our health and our hearth and indeed are very very rich,
Friday, March 19, 2010
When you are 5
This week in kindergarden during library time...called IMC nowadays....we watched a film about seals and otters. The short was made during the 70s and I was distracted by the porn star mustaches the men sported. The kids were rather squirmy as it was a slow moving film, not flashy enough for today's kids.
But part way through the film a crisis occured, a little baby otter was separated from it's mother and washed up on the shore. Three fisherman battled waves to row out to the kelp bed to try and reunite the baby with its mother.The somber narrator spoke of certain death if the baby and mother did not find one another. The men struggled and strained to row out past the surf.
18 little kids froze in mid wiggle. All sound ceased as 18 pairs of eyes stared at the grainy film. Thumbs popped into mouths, other children held hands, as all silently watched the screen.
Kids in 2010 may have shorter attention spans than children a generation ago. They may need brighter graphics coming at them at ever increasing speeds. But a motherless child has universal appeal. The children remained watchful and silent until the inevitable happy ending, then the wiggling giggling resumed.
I thought of the film again today while the kids celebrated Grandparent Visitor's day. The children joyfully showed off their classroom to their grandpaarents or parents. They cheerfully read favorite stories to their honored guests. They shared both snack and circle time and smiles were everywhere.
But 2 little boys never looked up as nanas and grandpas filled the room. One often has his mom volunteer in the room and he knew she could not make it today. He seemed cheerful enough. The other boy never has a coat to wear outside for recess. Each day he and I go to the lost and found rack and 'borrow' a jacket to wear outdoors. He was definitely subdued and he looked wistfully over at one girl whose daddy came. Another boy had both granddads and his grandmother with him and he basked in the attention.
I stayed by the boys and tried to share the day with them. But really a teacher's aide is no substitute for a special guest visitor. Later during circle time as each child took a turn sharing their favorite part of the day, almost every child shared that their favorite thing was their granma coming or reading to their dad etc. The boy who never has a warm enough coat looked at everyone when it was his turn to speak. He was quiet for a moment and then spoke softly. Pointing to his buddy who also did not have a special guest he said, "My favorite time of day was when Joe hung out with me."
That there was no one in this boys life, no parent, grandparent, neighbor, or anyone like that to share his day is tragic. That he could still value the companionship of his little schoolmate is heartbreakingly sweet.
But part way through the film a crisis occured, a little baby otter was separated from it's mother and washed up on the shore. Three fisherman battled waves to row out to the kelp bed to try and reunite the baby with its mother.The somber narrator spoke of certain death if the baby and mother did not find one another. The men struggled and strained to row out past the surf.
18 little kids froze in mid wiggle. All sound ceased as 18 pairs of eyes stared at the grainy film. Thumbs popped into mouths, other children held hands, as all silently watched the screen.
Kids in 2010 may have shorter attention spans than children a generation ago. They may need brighter graphics coming at them at ever increasing speeds. But a motherless child has universal appeal. The children remained watchful and silent until the inevitable happy ending, then the wiggling giggling resumed.
I thought of the film again today while the kids celebrated Grandparent Visitor's day. The children joyfully showed off their classroom to their grandpaarents or parents. They cheerfully read favorite stories to their honored guests. They shared both snack and circle time and smiles were everywhere.
But 2 little boys never looked up as nanas and grandpas filled the room. One often has his mom volunteer in the room and he knew she could not make it today. He seemed cheerful enough. The other boy never has a coat to wear outside for recess. Each day he and I go to the lost and found rack and 'borrow' a jacket to wear outdoors. He was definitely subdued and he looked wistfully over at one girl whose daddy came. Another boy had both granddads and his grandmother with him and he basked in the attention.
I stayed by the boys and tried to share the day with them. But really a teacher's aide is no substitute for a special guest visitor. Later during circle time as each child took a turn sharing their favorite part of the day, almost every child shared that their favorite thing was their granma coming or reading to their dad etc. The boy who never has a warm enough coat looked at everyone when it was his turn to speak. He was quiet for a moment and then spoke softly. Pointing to his buddy who also did not have a special guest he said, "My favorite time of day was when Joe hung out with me."
That there was no one in this boys life, no parent, grandparent, neighbor, or anyone like that to share his day is tragic. That he could still value the companionship of his little schoolmate is heartbreakingly sweet.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A Play post for Neil like I promised
Two more shows left before we tear down the tavern walls, sink the piratical boat, and pack up the corsets for another year. Time to blog about the experience before it fades into memory eventually becoming a favorite story to share over drinks and free popcorn at JJs.
This play seems to have had more than it shares of frustrations and I was not at all certain I would see it to its conclusion. But the performances have more than made it worthwhile. It is not suppose to be about me anyway. The plays are purportedly put on as fundraisers for Camp Kiwanee. As such we have raised thousands and thousands of dollars and the last 3 shows have been held to sell out crowds. Very sucessful. But of course if they were merely fundraisers they would have faded out over the years instead of growing more successful.
Started over 30 years ago as the vision of one man, my brother in law, they now go on 3 times a year. One play is always a 'kid' play, most often made up of his current 6th grade class. 2 other extravaganzas per year consist of teachers, former students now grown up and various townsfolk who have been cajoled into a small role and then stuck around for glory.
Some can barely sing or act but that has never stopped anyone. Others (such as myself) are giddy over-actors who cannot resist the thrill of a captive audience. A few of us are true thespians and have even studied the craft.
Before every performance we are reminded that the 'play is the thing'. It is not ALL ABOUT ME....although my mom once made t-shirts that said, it IS ' all about me'. She handed them out to the unruly cast members of the murder mystery she was in. For years she supported my siblings, my kids, and my dad in plays. After his death she decided to see what all the fuss was about. She loved it of course. There is nothing like working together for a common goal in front of adoring fans!
When I first heard we were doing a version of Pirates of Penzance, I was giddy. I love the play, I love the songs, I love the costumes.
The lovefest did not last long however. A recent change in how plays are cast caught me up and spit me out. Over the years I have had a few juicy roles. But normally I am 'third villager to the left', or the 'fifth flower girl'. No matter- the whole experience is what I seek, back stage giggles, wrap nights at JJs, practical jokes and joyous rehearsals.
A new trend however is the 'tryout.' This is suppose to democratize the cast selection. The reality is however certain people are already assumed to have certain parts. Silly I suppose to be mad about it. Sounds so middle school just rereading it.
But I had my heart set on the Major General role (auditioned for it as a man) and worked like a dog to achieve the part. A couple of other play folk also coveted roles and they too nailed their auditions. We were shot down however and given parts as the silly sisters.
This really got me down as never before. Combined with a lack of clear direction from a multitude of directors until my poor nephew finally rose to occasion and mostly took over it was a recipe for miserable rehearsals. At one point I swear I had become the middleschool gossip girl I have always fought against, calling cast mates to gossip on the way home from play rehearsal, whispering in corners, , moaning and groaning.
What kept me going was the fact that I truly love Guilbert and Sullivan. That and the new talent we discovered who took over the role of Mabel. She is a lovely person with an astounding voice. Pretty much she is the play and the rest of us just hope not to embarrass her!
We eventually got the harmonies down and learned the dance steps. Every week we sisters had different moves to learn and then the following week those would be forgotten ( not by us) and a new set of moves was decided upon.
One of the perks of being a sister was we got the most beautiful dresses handmade by Kathy Fortin, a play mom who just cannot say no! She made all of us look beautiful. The look is somewhat spoiled by the ugly blondish wigs we are forced to wear however. I look like a Tranny in mine and not even a good looking one! But the dresses are lovely and best of all we wear real corsets under them.
We do strip down to our corsets half way through the play however and I am more than willing to sacrifice breathing in order to have a trim waist and a magnificent bosom!
3 play virgins have become some of my new favorite people. The woman playing Mabel of course. Also Neil's boyfriend who knew nothing about acting and who was even less interested, has become one of the only pirates who can actually sing and dance at the same time. Early on he slipped easily into the role of my dirty ear whispering cohort and now I cannot imagine a play without him! A surprising new delight is the boy who got my role of the Major General. Boy he is, at 24 he is younger than my eldest child! But he has red hair, a flair for over acting, and a willingness to say outrageous things. I still think I should BE the Major General, but he no longer fears a push down the stairs, at least not from me.
The play finally came together on opening night and I shall blog more about that later. I got up very early this morning to shut the back door which had blown open during the night causing the furnace to blast heat. I believe the entire back yard was warmed by us!
I let the dogs out and settled my stomach with tea and ritz crackers. Thankfully I wolfed down huge glasses of water to go with my JJs after play drinks (where's the rum Johnny Depp cried!) I am now going to head back to bed to catch such much needed shut eye. Only 2 more times to cinch the corsets but I promised Neil a blog and did not want to disappoint.
This play seems to have had more than it shares of frustrations and I was not at all certain I would see it to its conclusion. But the performances have more than made it worthwhile. It is not suppose to be about me anyway. The plays are purportedly put on as fundraisers for Camp Kiwanee. As such we have raised thousands and thousands of dollars and the last 3 shows have been held to sell out crowds. Very sucessful. But of course if they were merely fundraisers they would have faded out over the years instead of growing more successful.
Started over 30 years ago as the vision of one man, my brother in law, they now go on 3 times a year. One play is always a 'kid' play, most often made up of his current 6th grade class. 2 other extravaganzas per year consist of teachers, former students now grown up and various townsfolk who have been cajoled into a small role and then stuck around for glory.
Some can barely sing or act but that has never stopped anyone. Others (such as myself) are giddy over-actors who cannot resist the thrill of a captive audience. A few of us are true thespians and have even studied the craft.
Before every performance we are reminded that the 'play is the thing'. It is not ALL ABOUT ME....although my mom once made t-shirts that said, it IS ' all about me'. She handed them out to the unruly cast members of the murder mystery she was in. For years she supported my siblings, my kids, and my dad in plays. After his death she decided to see what all the fuss was about. She loved it of course. There is nothing like working together for a common goal in front of adoring fans!
When I first heard we were doing a version of Pirates of Penzance, I was giddy. I love the play, I love the songs, I love the costumes.
The lovefest did not last long however. A recent change in how plays are cast caught me up and spit me out. Over the years I have had a few juicy roles. But normally I am 'third villager to the left', or the 'fifth flower girl'. No matter- the whole experience is what I seek, back stage giggles, wrap nights at JJs, practical jokes and joyous rehearsals.
A new trend however is the 'tryout.' This is suppose to democratize the cast selection. The reality is however certain people are already assumed to have certain parts. Silly I suppose to be mad about it. Sounds so middle school just rereading it.
But I had my heart set on the Major General role (auditioned for it as a man) and worked like a dog to achieve the part. A couple of other play folk also coveted roles and they too nailed their auditions. We were shot down however and given parts as the silly sisters.
This really got me down as never before. Combined with a lack of clear direction from a multitude of directors until my poor nephew finally rose to occasion and mostly took over it was a recipe for miserable rehearsals. At one point I swear I had become the middleschool gossip girl I have always fought against, calling cast mates to gossip on the way home from play rehearsal, whispering in corners, , moaning and groaning.
What kept me going was the fact that I truly love Guilbert and Sullivan. That and the new talent we discovered who took over the role of Mabel. She is a lovely person with an astounding voice. Pretty much she is the play and the rest of us just hope not to embarrass her!
We eventually got the harmonies down and learned the dance steps. Every week we sisters had different moves to learn and then the following week those would be forgotten ( not by us) and a new set of moves was decided upon.
One of the perks of being a sister was we got the most beautiful dresses handmade by Kathy Fortin, a play mom who just cannot say no! She made all of us look beautiful. The look is somewhat spoiled by the ugly blondish wigs we are forced to wear however. I look like a Tranny in mine and not even a good looking one! But the dresses are lovely and best of all we wear real corsets under them.
We do strip down to our corsets half way through the play however and I am more than willing to sacrifice breathing in order to have a trim waist and a magnificent bosom!
3 play virgins have become some of my new favorite people. The woman playing Mabel of course. Also Neil's boyfriend who knew nothing about acting and who was even less interested, has become one of the only pirates who can actually sing and dance at the same time. Early on he slipped easily into the role of my dirty ear whispering cohort and now I cannot imagine a play without him! A surprising new delight is the boy who got my role of the Major General. Boy he is, at 24 he is younger than my eldest child! But he has red hair, a flair for over acting, and a willingness to say outrageous things. I still think I should BE the Major General, but he no longer fears a push down the stairs, at least not from me.
The play finally came together on opening night and I shall blog more about that later. I got up very early this morning to shut the back door which had blown open during the night causing the furnace to blast heat. I believe the entire back yard was warmed by us!
I let the dogs out and settled my stomach with tea and ritz crackers. Thankfully I wolfed down huge glasses of water to go with my JJs after play drinks (where's the rum Johnny Depp cried!) I am now going to head back to bed to catch such much needed shut eye. Only 2 more times to cinch the corsets but I promised Neil a blog and did not want to disappoint.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Mass and gifts from God
I promise a blog about the first play weekend which has of course been amazing. I need to write about something else however. Have to write it, can think of nothing else.
Today I was racing out of my costume at the end of the matinee because I wanted to make the 6 o'clock teen Mass at my old parish St Joseph the Worker in Hanson. One of my dearest friends had asked if I would take her children to the play and then accompany her daughter Meghan to the last teen Mass before next Sunday's Confirmation.
I was eager to help first because my friend Reenie is one of those people who has spent her entire life putting everyone else's needs ahead of her own. But today she had a once in a lifetime opportunity to do something fun for just herself and she nearly canceled because of a teen Mass! Second I have been asked to Sponsor Meghan as a candidate for Confirmation which is almost as good as being a Godparent. Sadly I am a Godparent to no one although I have always wanted to be. But unlike me, most of my friends had their 1.6 children and therefore had to ask sisters to be Godparents.
Being a Sponsor is a pretty nice consolation prize however! So tonight Meghan and I were going ot Mass together, then sneaking out to eat. This Wednesday we will do the Confirmation rehearsal. Then on Sunday we have Confirmation mass at 1. I will have my play costume in the car because as soon as the Bishop is done Confirming my darling I must race to start the play. (Ok a bit of a dash but we all have busy lives :>)
Meghan and I had fun talking about spiritual matters on the way to church and while we waited in the parking lot until the church began to fill. It was interesting comparing her Confirmation experience with what our parish offers and I just really enjoy her company. My Meghan loves animals and we usually spend most of our time happily talking about Dogs. But I do take my Sponsor responsibilities seriously and I made sure to talk about both Dog and God.
Entering St Joes always makes me miss my parents and I quickly turned my thoughts to Mary and Matt's marriage ceremony also held there, to keep my eyes from watering.
Across the aisle I recognized a foster parent friend and she delightedly showed me her new foster placement, a 4 month old tiny girl who came in on the hotline after hours Friday evening.
Meghan goodnaturedly agreed to switch seats so we could be behind the foster family and I eagerly scooped up the infant to get my baby fix. I was told in a whisper to be careful of her ribs as she had healing fractures.
Yes you read that correctly. The four month old infant had nine rib fractures in the process of healing. How does a baby get rib fractures? I think you know the answer to that as well as I.
Mass began and it was a typical teen Mass. Kids doing readings and announcements and passing the money baskets. I think they have 5 guitarists in their teen band. The music was terrific btw, full of enthusiasm and truly some lovely singers.
I gingerly handled the baby and she tended to hold herself in the rigid fashion of a drug exposed infant. Only she held herself that way because her ribs hurt. At one point she let out a milk fed burp worthy of any beer guzzling man and the teens behind us were vastly amused.
Meghan stood next to me looking so much like her mom with her curly hair and shy smile that I was taken back over 30 years to her mom's and mine own Confirmation.
I thought about her mom and was so happy to think she was doing something fun with her husband. I thought of their little family, one husband, one wife, one son, one daughter. How much love and affection there is in their home. I recalled holding Meghan as a little blond haired infant and got a little misty with nostalgia because they really do grow quickly.
But as Mass went on and we watched a video of the Cardinal asking for money my mind kept returning to the baby in my arms. At one point I went to put her up to my shoulder for a burp. But as soon as her tender ribs came into contact with my body she arched away from me and that prescious child of God winced in pain.
I fed and burped her, I smiled and cooed at her, I tucked her up close to me and helped her go over the edge into sleep and she never needed to fuss to make her needs known. Over 40 foster children I know how to do this. I know how to help a baby in pain find a comfortable position, at least enough to drift off to sleep.
I went up to receive Communion, with her fast alseep in my arms. Father blessed her and the tears started coming down my face. The teen band sang "I can Only Imagine", a song that always makes me weep.
All I could think about was how every person in that congregation would stop everything to help an innocent baby. Everyone would want to know she had 9 fractures on her ribs. Everyone would love her enough. Everyone except the people in her life who were suppose to keep her safe.
Over and over I felt her breath, felt her tiny heartbeat. Over and over what goes through my brain my heart my soul is that I should be bringing her home or at least those like her. 25 kids a day sit in DSS offices through out Massachusetts, having no foster hoem to go too. I should be fostering again. Everyone in the church would want to help of course if asked. But I have the skills it takes. I should be doing it.
Normally holding a baby fills me up, gives me my baby fix, but not tonight. Standing next to Meghan so beautiful so mature and sweet and beloved by her family.... baby Ari deserves that too.
Later, after Meghan and I had a relaxing dinner she and her brother were returned to their house to finish homework and head to bed. Joe kept me company and on the way home he excitedly talked about the play, about his visit with Peter, and about his chickens. Mr Jones and Me came on the radio and we both sang along. Then a 'rock band' song came on, one of thse guitar solo songs from the 70s. He sang and air guitared and bounced about in the back seat. I reflected on how he came into fostercare after going thru the windshiled of a car, about his stitches and concussion and the glass stuck in his forehead.
What the heck am I doing not fostering? Why isnt everyone lining up to do the greatest job in the world?
Today I was racing out of my costume at the end of the matinee because I wanted to make the 6 o'clock teen Mass at my old parish St Joseph the Worker in Hanson. One of my dearest friends had asked if I would take her children to the play and then accompany her daughter Meghan to the last teen Mass before next Sunday's Confirmation.
I was eager to help first because my friend Reenie is one of those people who has spent her entire life putting everyone else's needs ahead of her own. But today she had a once in a lifetime opportunity to do something fun for just herself and she nearly canceled because of a teen Mass! Second I have been asked to Sponsor Meghan as a candidate for Confirmation which is almost as good as being a Godparent. Sadly I am a Godparent to no one although I have always wanted to be. But unlike me, most of my friends had their 1.6 children and therefore had to ask sisters to be Godparents.
Being a Sponsor is a pretty nice consolation prize however! So tonight Meghan and I were going ot Mass together, then sneaking out to eat. This Wednesday we will do the Confirmation rehearsal. Then on Sunday we have Confirmation mass at 1. I will have my play costume in the car because as soon as the Bishop is done Confirming my darling I must race to start the play. (Ok a bit of a dash but we all have busy lives :>)
Meghan and I had fun talking about spiritual matters on the way to church and while we waited in the parking lot until the church began to fill. It was interesting comparing her Confirmation experience with what our parish offers and I just really enjoy her company. My Meghan loves animals and we usually spend most of our time happily talking about Dogs. But I do take my Sponsor responsibilities seriously and I made sure to talk about both Dog and God.
Entering St Joes always makes me miss my parents and I quickly turned my thoughts to Mary and Matt's marriage ceremony also held there, to keep my eyes from watering.
Across the aisle I recognized a foster parent friend and she delightedly showed me her new foster placement, a 4 month old tiny girl who came in on the hotline after hours Friday evening.
Meghan goodnaturedly agreed to switch seats so we could be behind the foster family and I eagerly scooped up the infant to get my baby fix. I was told in a whisper to be careful of her ribs as she had healing fractures.
Yes you read that correctly. The four month old infant had nine rib fractures in the process of healing. How does a baby get rib fractures? I think you know the answer to that as well as I.
Mass began and it was a typical teen Mass. Kids doing readings and announcements and passing the money baskets. I think they have 5 guitarists in their teen band. The music was terrific btw, full of enthusiasm and truly some lovely singers.
I gingerly handled the baby and she tended to hold herself in the rigid fashion of a drug exposed infant. Only she held herself that way because her ribs hurt. At one point she let out a milk fed burp worthy of any beer guzzling man and the teens behind us were vastly amused.
Meghan stood next to me looking so much like her mom with her curly hair and shy smile that I was taken back over 30 years to her mom's and mine own Confirmation.
I thought about her mom and was so happy to think she was doing something fun with her husband. I thought of their little family, one husband, one wife, one son, one daughter. How much love and affection there is in their home. I recalled holding Meghan as a little blond haired infant and got a little misty with nostalgia because they really do grow quickly.
But as Mass went on and we watched a video of the Cardinal asking for money my mind kept returning to the baby in my arms. At one point I went to put her up to my shoulder for a burp. But as soon as her tender ribs came into contact with my body she arched away from me and that prescious child of God winced in pain.
I fed and burped her, I smiled and cooed at her, I tucked her up close to me and helped her go over the edge into sleep and she never needed to fuss to make her needs known. Over 40 foster children I know how to do this. I know how to help a baby in pain find a comfortable position, at least enough to drift off to sleep.
I went up to receive Communion, with her fast alseep in my arms. Father blessed her and the tears started coming down my face. The teen band sang "I can Only Imagine", a song that always makes me weep.
All I could think about was how every person in that congregation would stop everything to help an innocent baby. Everyone would want to know she had 9 fractures on her ribs. Everyone would love her enough. Everyone except the people in her life who were suppose to keep her safe.
Over and over I felt her breath, felt her tiny heartbeat. Over and over what goes through my brain my heart my soul is that I should be bringing her home or at least those like her. 25 kids a day sit in DSS offices through out Massachusetts, having no foster hoem to go too. I should be fostering again. Everyone in the church would want to help of course if asked. But I have the skills it takes. I should be doing it.
Normally holding a baby fills me up, gives me my baby fix, but not tonight. Standing next to Meghan so beautiful so mature and sweet and beloved by her family.... baby Ari deserves that too.
Later, after Meghan and I had a relaxing dinner she and her brother were returned to their house to finish homework and head to bed. Joe kept me company and on the way home he excitedly talked about the play, about his visit with Peter, and about his chickens. Mr Jones and Me came on the radio and we both sang along. Then a 'rock band' song came on, one of thse guitar solo songs from the 70s. He sang and air guitared and bounced about in the back seat. I reflected on how he came into fostercare after going thru the windshiled of a car, about his stitches and concussion and the glass stuck in his forehead.
What the heck am I doing not fostering? Why isnt everyone lining up to do the greatest job in the world?
Thursday, March 04, 2010
The After Meeting
Last night there were 6-8 women still sitting around the table in the high school library. We had recently ended the formal PTO meeting and were now chit chatting. Our male high school principal has always jokingly referred to it as the after meeting. He normally leaves the building while we are still talking out in the parking lot. But since there were gale force winds and blustery snowfall we remained seated, warm and fairly comfortable, indoors.
The after meeting is sometimes a continuation of one or more of the discussions that occurred during the regular PTO. But more often than not they are informal conversations about our lives and those of our older kids.
A few of the women have been together since our college kids were in preschool. Some went to school together themselves. A couple of of us only met later thru our children's school or sports activities.
All are women and every one of them a gift. They are on school committees, or sports boards, they participate in town politics, or have been part of the schools various PTOs since their children were in preschool. Busy women who are committed to their school and town.
I adore the high school PTO in part because of these after meetings, a chance to catch up on children who have moved on, a chance to hear about marriages, vacations, tragedies and triumphs.
Last night as we were talking about unemployment ( 4 of us have had husbands who have been laid off, although Don the most recent is the only one who has yet to find a new job.) suddenly one of the woman glancing at her Blackberry interrupted our lively discussion. With a tremulous voice she related the sad news of a sudden death of a local man.
He and his wife have always been very active in our parish and half the women at the meeting are all involved at Our Lady of Lourdes. We are still dealing with the tragic death of our beloved Deacon. The death of this latest man, whose wife is our church treasurer (and who is fighting to live as long as possible with her own terminal cancer) was shocking in its unexpectedness.
He died in his sleep. They went to bed Tuesday night, a long married devoted couple, and she woke up the next morning a widow. Just like that.
One of our group whose children are younger than this couple, and who is herself not a Catholic asked about the family. The rest of us all had a story to tell about this man and woman who really were not much different than any of us gathered that night, a happy married couple involved in church and community....
His death brought up again the Deacon's death and the impact that has had. Everyone of us talked about appreciating our own lives, and how these things put so much into perspective. In all our lives lately (and maybe it is due to this stage of our lives as many of us hover around the 50th year?) there seems to be death, divorce, and great loss. One of our own is undergoing a messy divorce after a shocking betrayal for instance.
We have used our after meetings to offer comfort and counsel. We have also shared worries over poor choices some of our older children seem determined to make, and fret over rising costs and the state of town finances and what it all means for school and families.
I am deeply saddened by this latest loss to our little town, Phil was a giver in every sense of the word and our church and town are greater for his having been among us.
Our after meeting did not end on the sad note however although we were all feeling solemn. As so often happens as we headed out the door to our cars, someone made some small remark, some one else issued a pithy response and all of us laughed. Life goes on of course and everywhere all around lately there are reminders to laugh a little more, to appreciate and celebrate and to remember why the heck we are here in the first place.
The after meeting is sometimes a continuation of one or more of the discussions that occurred during the regular PTO. But more often than not they are informal conversations about our lives and those of our older kids.
A few of the women have been together since our college kids were in preschool. Some went to school together themselves. A couple of of us only met later thru our children's school or sports activities.
All are women and every one of them a gift. They are on school committees, or sports boards, they participate in town politics, or have been part of the schools various PTOs since their children were in preschool. Busy women who are committed to their school and town.
I adore the high school PTO in part because of these after meetings, a chance to catch up on children who have moved on, a chance to hear about marriages, vacations, tragedies and triumphs.
Last night as we were talking about unemployment ( 4 of us have had husbands who have been laid off, although Don the most recent is the only one who has yet to find a new job.) suddenly one of the woman glancing at her Blackberry interrupted our lively discussion. With a tremulous voice she related the sad news of a sudden death of a local man.
He and his wife have always been very active in our parish and half the women at the meeting are all involved at Our Lady of Lourdes. We are still dealing with the tragic death of our beloved Deacon. The death of this latest man, whose wife is our church treasurer (and who is fighting to live as long as possible with her own terminal cancer) was shocking in its unexpectedness.
He died in his sleep. They went to bed Tuesday night, a long married devoted couple, and she woke up the next morning a widow. Just like that.
One of our group whose children are younger than this couple, and who is herself not a Catholic asked about the family. The rest of us all had a story to tell about this man and woman who really were not much different than any of us gathered that night, a happy married couple involved in church and community....
His death brought up again the Deacon's death and the impact that has had. Everyone of us talked about appreciating our own lives, and how these things put so much into perspective. In all our lives lately (and maybe it is due to this stage of our lives as many of us hover around the 50th year?) there seems to be death, divorce, and great loss. One of our own is undergoing a messy divorce after a shocking betrayal for instance.
We have used our after meetings to offer comfort and counsel. We have also shared worries over poor choices some of our older children seem determined to make, and fret over rising costs and the state of town finances and what it all means for school and families.
I am deeply saddened by this latest loss to our little town, Phil was a giver in every sense of the word and our church and town are greater for his having been among us.
Our after meeting did not end on the sad note however although we were all feeling solemn. As so often happens as we headed out the door to our cars, someone made some small remark, some one else issued a pithy response and all of us laughed. Life goes on of course and everywhere all around lately there are reminders to laugh a little more, to appreciate and celebrate and to remember why the heck we are here in the first place.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Useless Guilt and getting rid of it.
Today Donnie headed up to an all day retreat that he had been hemming and hawing about going to. Originally we were both hoping to go although cost and kid concerns always enter the equation. But then when my kindergarten job started I assumed both of those concerns would be met and just he would go off.
He however still hesitated. When I asked why he said because he felt guilty leaving me home to do all the kid stuff. That struck me as very funny and probably not the exact truth. I think he felt guilty going off and having fun with our friends and leaving me stuck with the kid stuff! Not quite the same thing.
Because in all honesty I have spent most of our marriage being 'stuck with all the kids stuff' although neither one of us would normally even call it that. No matter how liberated a household, (and I grew up thinking all Dads parented and all Moms worked outside the home because that is how my family did things) the bulk of the kid stuff still falls to the Mom.
That said, Donnie certainly has a larger role in our children's lives than most of the guys of our acquaintance. Perhaps it is more the responsibility for the day to day fall more to this Mom. Neither one of us has ever disputed it or even given it much thought. It is simply the way things are and in most circumatances we are fine with it. Do I wish he took a closer interest in their homework than he does? Hell ya! Does he wish I cared much less about their presentation to the world, i.e. what they wear out in public? Undoubtedly! But the day to day running of our busy lives is entertaining, satisfying, and fairly smooth.
His being unemployed however I think has given him a closer opportunity to look at what I do day to day. That combined with the fact that no matter how much you think you could get done if only you were home all day long- simply never works out because kids do not get that particular memo :>)
I think we often feel sympathy for our spouse because they do something we do not really want to do in the first place! I think it is why we stay married for so long because we really do come to appreciate someone who is willing to do the crap we really don't want to. The funny thing is most of us do what we love to do, what we like to do, and what we don't mind doing and that thank fully covers most things!
So I felt a little guilty that Don got up in the morning to get the kids off (after listening to my list of instructions, believe me a person needs to be instructed about Joey!) and he got stuck doing the driveway.
Between my insomnia and my distaste for shoveling I felt like I got the better end of the deal, but I still felt bad 'making' Donnie do what I don't really care for. Yet the reality is, he is a morning person and he likes to shovel!
He feels guilty that I have to do the afternoon run around, something he does not really enjoy as he can never ever keep the schedules straight. But I have done it for most of our lives, often with 4-6 kids in car seats and I simply do not mind it and have never yet forgotten a kid or event so no big deal!
We will both meet up in the parkign lot of a funeral home for a wake of a dear friend's uncle and then he will head home to do the end of the day routine and I wil lehad up to Framingham for a meeting.
Come to think of it, I kinda do hope he still feels a little guilty. Becaause maybe then I could convince him to drive me to Framingham instead. I like the meeting but hate the drive. He enjoys driviing and could care less about bad weather or new directions on how to get there.....hmmm maybe guilt could be put ot good use after all!!!
He however still hesitated. When I asked why he said because he felt guilty leaving me home to do all the kid stuff. That struck me as very funny and probably not the exact truth. I think he felt guilty going off and having fun with our friends and leaving me stuck with the kid stuff! Not quite the same thing.
Because in all honesty I have spent most of our marriage being 'stuck with all the kids stuff' although neither one of us would normally even call it that. No matter how liberated a household, (and I grew up thinking all Dads parented and all Moms worked outside the home because that is how my family did things) the bulk of the kid stuff still falls to the Mom.
That said, Donnie certainly has a larger role in our children's lives than most of the guys of our acquaintance. Perhaps it is more the responsibility for the day to day fall more to this Mom. Neither one of us has ever disputed it or even given it much thought. It is simply the way things are and in most circumatances we are fine with it. Do I wish he took a closer interest in their homework than he does? Hell ya! Does he wish I cared much less about their presentation to the world, i.e. what they wear out in public? Undoubtedly! But the day to day running of our busy lives is entertaining, satisfying, and fairly smooth.
His being unemployed however I think has given him a closer opportunity to look at what I do day to day. That combined with the fact that no matter how much you think you could get done if only you were home all day long- simply never works out because kids do not get that particular memo :>)
I think we often feel sympathy for our spouse because they do something we do not really want to do in the first place! I think it is why we stay married for so long because we really do come to appreciate someone who is willing to do the crap we really don't want to. The funny thing is most of us do what we love to do, what we like to do, and what we don't mind doing and that thank fully covers most things!
So I felt a little guilty that Don got up in the morning to get the kids off (after listening to my list of instructions, believe me a person needs to be instructed about Joey!) and he got stuck doing the driveway.
Between my insomnia and my distaste for shoveling I felt like I got the better end of the deal, but I still felt bad 'making' Donnie do what I don't really care for. Yet the reality is, he is a morning person and he likes to shovel!
He feels guilty that I have to do the afternoon run around, something he does not really enjoy as he can never ever keep the schedules straight. But I have done it for most of our lives, often with 4-6 kids in car seats and I simply do not mind it and have never yet forgotten a kid or event so no big deal!
We will both meet up in the parkign lot of a funeral home for a wake of a dear friend's uncle and then he will head home to do the end of the day routine and I wil lehad up to Framingham for a meeting.
Come to think of it, I kinda do hope he still feels a little guilty. Becaause maybe then I could convince him to drive me to Framingham instead. I like the meeting but hate the drive. He enjoys driviing and could care less about bad weather or new directions on how to get there.....hmmm maybe guilt could be put ot good use after all!!!
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