Yo Momma's Day

The kids are apparently now rappers, so with dance moves inherited from their Dad, they presented me with this - a somewhat original song, inspired by some viral video. Thanks, you punks! I love you to the moon and back! It was a great day!

A Small Part

Last October, a friend called and said the high school was auditioning for parts in Annie. The girls were all to come prepared to sing the song 'Tomorrow'. For 3 weeks, Maddie practiced and practiced. She sang to anyone and everyone who would listen. She got pretty good, too.

Finally, the audition day came. We walked into an auditorium that was teeming with high schoolers. Loud and running around, comfortable with one another, clearly had done this before. The directors were also familiar with a lot of these kids, not afraid to tell them what they needed to do to improve their performances. Every time they yelled out to a kid, I saw Maddie shrink further into her chair and cut her eyes in my direction. I smiled and tried to look confident, but I looked at the number of kids and knew it was going to be a long shot.

By the time it was her turn, they'd cut the girls to just one verse. When her name was called, she walked up onstage and stood there waiting for piano accompaniment. At 10 years old, she looked so small and her voice, when she started to sing, was lost in the babble and curtains and cavernous auditorium. The courage alone it took to stand up there... My heart sank for her. But she came off stage, with a smile and a "We'll call you" and we went to get an ice cream.

A few days later the call came that she didn't get a part. I'll admit, I cried thinking about how to break the news to her and how it would break her heart. The kids don't hear the word no very often, and while I realized this was a chance to really teach a life lesson, this was a big NO to hear.

It was every bit as awful as I'd imagined it would be and I don't know if it was right or wrong to pose it as a lesson at that point, but I did. Simply because I didn't know what else to do. She grieved not getting a part. It was terrible to watch her work so hard and fail.

A couple of weeks passed and we got another call - they needed extras. Would Maddie be willing to do that? Uhhh... Yeah.

So it started. Practices every couple weeks at first, then a few before the Winter Break. Then ramping up into February. I'd never been involved in theater before, but I have to imagine this program would rate pretty high up there. The work and detail and intricacies put into each song, each scene, it was insanely impressive to my untrained eye. How it was going to all come together, I couldn't envision, but could see the potential.

The directors tweaked and tweaked right up to(and through)opening night. It was so nerve-wracking to see and wonder how it would all turn out. The costumes got their final touches, the vacuum was run through the seats, "Instead, sing 'Hooverville' like this", and people started to take their seats.

Now, I had a small part in this production. Our dog was playing Sandy, so I was waiting with him in the wings. I never got to see Maddie's first song from the seats once the show started (I watched the 2nd all 9 times). But I did get to watch from stage left, just beyond the curtain's black folds. When the curtain pulled back and the lights came on, her back was to me. Maddie and the ensemble worked their way around the stage, she turned and I got to see her face. Singing, under the lights, beautiful- even in her street kid costume, confident.

Another moment I wished I could lock away. Forever.

These incredible kids went on to perform 9 shows in the last week. By the end, there was a feeling of family among so many of the actors. They were kind and good to my girl, who was one of the 4 youngest in the cast. Getting to be backstage as much as I was, I got to feel a real affinity for so many of the cast members, I was able to share in their successes, it was a true gift.

Maddie would come off stage after each show, hang her costumes, dress in her comfy clothes with stage makeup and flush still brightening her eyes and cheeks. You could see the pride she felt, the love she had for what she was a part of, the exhaustion from long hours and the excitement for the next performance.

I, too, felt proud that she was a part of this. Proud, that even though she had a small part, it made her feel larger than life.

20.

On Monday, it will be 20 years since the day Eric first asked me to "go out" with him. I sit here today, listening to our kids alternately bickering and laughing over a video game and Eric working on the house. It is a normal Saturday around here. A normal Saturday in this life we have made together.

I can look around my living room and see pictures of us from those early years, our wedding day, places we have been, our children growing up in framed still-life. I am awed at the time that has passed and the fact that somehow, from age 14, we have managed to stick it out. How lucky are we?

Eric told me the other day that this anniversary doesn't really matter, it's the marriage that has been the good stuff and should be celebrated. But I disagree. I think those 7 years we had before we got married were filled with good stuff, too. They are what got us to where we are today. I'm proud of them, as well.

I've had more "I love you's" and incredible moments in my life than should be allowed. I've never had to wonder who I could turn to. I've never had to look further than Eric for endless support, guidance and unconditional love. Many times, I've reflected on the path of my life and the series of events that lead my family to Bainbridge Island and me to Eric. If this hadn't happened, or that hadn't been said... The hand of fate was most definitely on my side.

We haven't had all happiness. When life threw us curveballs, we juggled them, not always gracefully. We've stood side-by-side at cemetaries. We've looked over one another in hospital beds. We've fought over work schedules and money and family and diaper changing. I've called him every name in the book (usually during those midnight, sleepless, newborn months), but I can't say the same for him. Eric has been my even keel on this 20 year trip. I don't keep my cool the way he does. I envy that in him, it sucks to have an argument with someone who refuses to dip to your level.

Maybe that doesn't sound like a love letter, but it's the times that put you through the wringer and you still come out the other side together, holding hands that count. I'm proud of that, too.

For many years, I could say I didn't realize the time that was passing, that I still felt 18. I don't feel 18 anymore, I see the wrinkles forming on my forehead, the distinguished looking white hair on Eric's temples. I don't mind it anymore, these things mark the passing of time. It is time we have been lucky enough to spend together.

When you put on miles, you wear down the tread a bit, that's they way it goes. And there's no one I'd rather travel with.

Thanks for these 20 years, Eric. You've made, and continue to make, my dreams come true.