History

I've been spending a considerable amount of time on the road lately. Burning up the highway, as they say. I don't normally get much time to myself, since I'm generally shuffling small people to places I would never choose to go if it weren't for said munchkins. So any alone time in the car that isn't spent on the cell is spent deep in thought. Luckily, I make a lot of calls.

However, I've realized in the past couple of weeks that history is a wonderful thing. Not ancient history, like Greeks and Romans and other people who don't speak English, or even current history, like the kind my brother talks about 24/7 because (1) it's his job, and (2) he's weird, and he actually enjoys that kind of junk. No, I'm talking personal history.

Never fear, I have examples. Mother's Day, 2006. My brother and I and our respective families are dining out to celebrate the day. Our waiter approaches the table and states: "My name is Lucas." I look at my brother. He looks at me. We both sport the Salley grin and I say, "I wonder if he lives on the second floor." We both erupt in laughter. I almost soiled myself. (Lucas the Waiter did not find my musing quite so a-musing). Now I ask, how many people could you do that with if you didn't share a history?

Okay, more examples. I have realized recently that my brother and his wife and me and SuperHubby have reached a milestone. It took a few years because they got married before we did, but now the 4 of us have been in each other's lives longer than not. Did you get that?? To me, that is an incredible thing, especially since we're all incredibly young and hot. Point being, we can say "Oh, Dad's just being Dad" or "You know how Mom is" and everyone understands. No explanation necessary. The history is there.

Friend history is just as fabulous. You know, the first few years after allowing someone into your inner circle, you constantly have to repeat stories and remind them why you say or do the things you do. You're forever saying, "Larry, my brother" or "Larry, my uncle" or "Larry, my dad" -- okay, maybe just in my family. But after a few years, the friends are elevated to the point where there's no need to go into detail. They know the family junk. They know the personal junk. And they still like you.

History is cool. The looks that relay a message, which lead to hysteria. The thoughts of a loved one that result in silence, followed by a pile of stories and more laughter. Reminders of good times and bad times, all ending in laughs and smiles and thanks to God. History always ends in happiness and thanksgiving. History is cool.

My Day (So Far)

So it's not yet 7:30 and already my day is one for the record books. How is this possible?

My children have decided that, although the school calendar believes they have another 2 weeks left to learn and play and wake up early, this is a mere mistake and they are DONE. This makes for very interesting mornings in the Fitzgerald household.

The boys have their happy and cranky moments confused. I don't know how to work with this. All year we've been accurately predicting moods and mood swings and life has worked out pretty well. Suddenly, we live in bizarro world.

So this morning, my little one decides he's going to be in a great mood. Which really isn't like FrogBoy. He's not what you call a morning person. Gets that from his daddy. But I digress.

So Froggie is very chatty, which I really can't take, because I'm busy dealing with Spanky, the one who IS a morning person, like me. I can only handle so much happiness, morning or otherwise. And there was a lot this morning.

Finally shuttle everyone out to the van, when lo and behold, the stupid thing won't start. Oh, that's right, she's decided that it's a wee bit too chilly this morning, she's gonna sleep in. I don't need this.

So I'm trying to crank her, she's giving me nothing, and I end up having to call SuperHubby to rescue me from my driveway. Did I mention he's not much of a morning person? Now he comes home, because he has to, and thinks it's a wise idea to try to crank the suppository himself. In his hospital clothes. (for those not in the know, these are his "visiting" clothes ...)

Well the suppository didn't crank, and I realized that she pulled this stunt a month ago, which just confirms that she IS a woman.

All 4 of us have to go to school in the dinky little Nissan SH drives just for laughs (other people's, not ours). Small cars are not good with our boys; they have to sit way too close together. So they're up in each other's faces the entire way to school, my head is about to explode and SH is blissfully unaware (I think he turned off his hearing aids as we were leaving our house).

Top it all off with 55 degree weather in Charleston in May ... and the day isn't going so great. It's just not working out like I planned. And I like to plan.

One good thing, however, is that today is our anniversary. SH and I have been married 14 years. I can't believe how old I am. No wonder I have so many gray hairs. Thankfully I'm adorable and they don't stick out too much.

Hopefully our day will get better. If not, I can remind myself that 4 of the past 6 anniversaries were spent in MUSC, and that will make the problems with the suppository pale in comparison.