Weepy Night in Pennsylvania

Have you ever had your child say something to you that sent a chill down your spine? For the last couple years, my six-year-old daughter Lila, has said, "The water always wins" whenever she takes a bath. It creeps me out. To her, it's a just a bathtime game. She sits in the empty tub and inches back as I turn on the faucets. She tries to see how long it takes for the water to touch her skin. Obviously, "the water always wins." It makes me think of something a drowning victim would say from beyond the grave. (And that's why I can never watch horror movies. My imagination runs wild just fine on its own.)

As Hurricane Sandy swept through the East Coast Monday and the local weatherpeople predicted rain, wind, power outages and floods, that phrase kept running through my mind. The water always wins, the water always wins. School was cancelled. My office was closed. My husband is a reporter, so he went in to work that night. It was just me and the kids waiting out the storm with snacks and movies and crafts. Eating my weight in pistachios calmed me a little bit.

I worried about the giant willow tree, the centerpiece of our backyard, and the maple out front. They looked sturdy and we'd recently had them professionally trimmed. But, I wasn't taking any chances. Since our bedrooms are upstairs, we camped out downstairs in the living room.

Lila's in there somewhere.

The rain was steady, but I knew that only from walking out on the porch periodically. I couldn't hear it falling on the roof like it does during a summer thunderstorm. The wind didn't whistle. I shot video of the willow branches swaying the rain. Everything looked, surprisingly, OK.

We fell asleep in the living room.

My husband returned home around midnight. I'd been sleeping on the couch and woke to ask him how his night was. We talked for a few minutes. He then walked upstairs to get a pillow. I heard him say, "Oh no! OH NO!" I ran up, thinking the bedrooms were flooded or a piece of the roof was missing. He was looking through the blinds of the window that faces the backyard. The willow was gone. We talked about how lucky we were, how it had just politely fallen without a sound, missing our house, our neighbors' houses and the power lines.

"Geez," he said, "I guess we can sleep upstairs now." He scooped up Lila. She woke and he told her what had happened.

Still half asleep, she said, "Oh, I loved that tree."

I sat in the dark living room with the TV off and felt so sad. And then immediately felt silly. Unlike so many others in this storm, we were alive. Everything could have been so much worse. The water DIDN'T win. But, I set the timer on my phone for 15 minutes and let myself cry anyway. The irony of crying over a weeping willow was not lost on me.




'Oh, I loved that tree.'



As I left for work this morning, I put the checkbook on the counter. My husband was waiting for the tree guy to show up to give an estimate for removal.

"We can afford [X]," I said. "If it's more than that...we'll figure out something."

An hour later, my husband texted me at work. The estimate was exactly X. The tree guy suggested planting an October maple in the spring.

October maple...we'll see.

 In the meantime, I'm fairly certain everyone on my Christmas list is getting a willow wreath.



When a willow drops in your backyard, you make willow wreaths.



Trick-or-treat neighborhood



Waiting for the 6 p.m. trick-or-treat start

 I have a thing for fall. Pumpkins, football games, pots of giant mums. When my husband and I were house hunting a few years ago, our realtor asked, "So, what kind of place are you looking for?"

I said, "I want to live in a neighborhood where it's fun to go trick-or-treating."

When I was growing up on a farm in Georgia, our town didn't really embrace Halloween. Houses were too far apart to gather much candy, and a lot of people just plain ol' didn't participate. We were, after all, in the buckle of the Bible Belt, where many considered Halloween to be "of the devil." I never understood why people got so worked up about it. To me, Halloween equals free candy--nothing more, nothing less.

When my husband and I finally found our little house on a tree-lined street, I knew it would be a great place for Halloween. Maple leaves cover our tiny front yard, no matter how many times we rake. And our little porch is just right for giant pumpkins.

Last night was trick-or-treat night in our neighborhood, and as we walked along the sidewalks, leaves crunched under our feet. A white steeple rose above the trees, and the temperature required nothing more than a light sweater. As we made our way from house to house (and peeked into the lighted living rooms for decorating tips), the word "idyllic" kept running through my mind. Not all the houses are fancy. None of them are new. But most of them had what my six-year-old calls "Halloween spirit." Happy Halloween!

Parade!

At some point in his act, comedian Daniel Tosh asks the audience if they prefer fireworks or a parade. He then says something like, "I don't even have a response to the idiot who yells, 'Parade!'" Well, I am one of those idiots, because I LOVE parades. Smalltown parades where you can wave to people you know.

Last night was our little town's Halloween parade. It's the most wonderful day of the year. The high school marching band shows up (btw, you haven't lived till you've seen a tuba player dressed like a nun), and a bunch of little kids register to win prettiest or scariest or most original costume. Did I mention there are firetrucks and ambulances with sirens, too?

And even though it seems like most of the town is in the parade, there are lots of people on the curb waving and cheering. I think I look forward to it more than Christmas. My six-year-old daughter likes it, too, which is good because, without her, I'd just look like some weird lady walking in the parade by herself.


So, yesterday, I rushed home from work to make sure everyone was ready. My daughter was fully on board and had already dressed herself in her pegasus/unicorn outfit. My husband was on the computer and didn't have his shoes on. It was 5:15 and registration lasted only until 5:45 before the parade started at 6! I reiterated to my husband the importance of registering before the cut-off time. We rushed out the door and drove to the parking lot of the Lutheran church. Yeah, it was 5:20 by then. I told you it was a small town.



Look out! Pegasus throwing candy!

"It's gonna be awhile," my husband explained to our daughter. "Mommy gets really excited for the parade, so we're VERY early."

I love that he knows this about me and accepts it.

Besides, our punctuality gave us time to take lots of pictures and see everyone's costumes.

Since this was our third year walking in the parade, I got smart this year and bought 2 pounds of Tootsie Rolls to toss as we walked the parade route. I wish we'd brought 10 pounds, because we ran out of candy before we wanted to. We tossed it to bunches of kids waving from the curb and pretty much felt like rock stars. (You know, if rock stars attended parades.) Everybody was yelling, "Thank you! Thank ou!" Throwing candy to little kids at a parade is probably the most fun a girl can have.



Charmed, I'm sure

When I turned 16, an aunt gave me a cool silver charm bracelet from James Avery (my favorite jewelry store), and I quickly filled it up. My grandfather would solder the charms on for me, so I wouldn't have to take it to a jeweler. That convenience made me a total charm bracelet glutton, and I gathered charms from everywhere--thrift stores, Kmart clearance sales, tourist traps, you name it. Like the party you throw when your parents are outta town, things got outta hand. No charm was too ugly or too cheap, which turned the whole bracelet into something that was pretty charm-less. Several friends got in the act, giving me long-forgotten charms scavenged from their moms' jewelry boxes. (Yes, I know. I can't believe we did that. Kids, that's called stealing and it's wrong.)

Once the bracelet became too heavy and cumbersome to wear, I hooked it around the rear-view mirror of the Buick I drove throughout college. After one too many times of locking my keys in my car, I started leaving it unlocked. Yep, someone swiped the bracelet one afternoon while my car sat in the parking lot of the tiny Southern Baptist college I attended. I chalked it up to poetic justice and knew I didn't deserve another charm bracelet. Ever.

Until last year.

I thought maybe it was a time to give my 16-year-old self a break and buy another bracelet. A law-abiding bracelet. I scoured Etsy until I found an antique one that seemed perfect. When it arrived in the mail, I put it in my jewelry box and didn't take it out for months. I mean, would I be able to handle it??And then yesterday my husband said, "Remember those two charms I got you last year? Are you ever gonna put those on your bracelet?" So, I got out my jewelry pliers and some split rings. It took me two minutes to put the charms on. And then I made some Charm Bracelet Rules:

1. Only meaningful charms will go on the bracelet. We're going for quality, not quantity this time. The two I've attached are James Avery charms from my husband--a crown (for Annabella Queen) and the cool finial heart (for our anniversary).

2. There's no rush to fill it. The bracelet has double links, so, in theory, I could put twice as many charms on there as a regular bracelet would hold. But, again, I'm going to give this one some thought. (See Rule 1.)

3. If someone surprises me with a charm, I am under no obligation to put it on my bracelet.

4. Above all, keep the bracelet, well, charming.

Momma Told Me To

I ran out of my favorite perfume sometime last year and chose not to replace it. I was trying to be all minimalist and figured my daily dose of powder fresh Secret deodorant was perfume enough.

Wrong.

I missed my perfume instantly. Few things are more wonderful than a great scent. Tried not to think about it these past few months. I mean, there are bigger problems in the world, I know. Plus, it seemed silly to spend the money.

I've never been loyal to one scent but always loved splurging on perfume every year for my birthday. Well, my birthday is next month, and I was planning to finally buy some Chanel No. 5 to celebrate turning 40. In years past, I've almost bought it several times but instead always opted for something newer, trendier.

When I got home from work today, there was an envelope from my mom with a $100 check in it. She wrote, "Spend this on yourself!" Well, if that's not a sign to buy Chanel, then nothing is.

So, I drove to Macy's, walked right up to the perfume counter and spent $105 on perfume. Yes, it's frivolous, but this powdery scent--the very one Marilyn Monroe wore--is better than clothes or shoes or jewelry any day. I can't stop smelling myself.

Happy early birthday to ME!

Surprise

Trying to put together an essay to submit to Skirt magazine. Their December theme is surprise. Having trouble finding a topic. The only thing I can think of is the awful surprise engagement party my SIL threw for me and Hot Husband two weeks before our wedding. We thought it was a regular ol' Sunday dinner at his parents' house, so we bowed out at the last minute. Managed to tick off a roomful of folks I'd never met before. Awful, awful in a million ways.

Rapunzel Party for Under $100

My daughter asked for a "Tangled" party for her sixth birthday. I was up to the challenge, so much so that I vowed to plan the whole thing for less than $100. No reason, really, except why break the bank on a two-hour party for kids who are still learning how to tie their own shoes?

I kept the guest list minimal, just the girls from her kindergarten class. For the invitations, I used scrapbooking paper I already had.


Total cost: $4.40 for 10 stamps


And my sweet friend Kim made these tower cupcakes:



Cupcakes with ice cream cone towers and yellow licorice hair


I was all set to pay Kim for these mini works of art, but she happened to see my sweater pumpkins on her way out the door. She took her pick of the patch, and we called it even.

Instead of balloons, streamers or paper products, I spent $14 on several yards of clearance fabric and unfurled it from the second floor window so it would look like long hair.

It's not a party until someone lets down her hair.

For favors, I wanted something besides the usual treat bags. Since lanterns are a huge part of the movie, I made my own version from the canning jars sitting in my basement. (I'm not a canner. I'll never be a canner. It was time to admit it and move on.) Some orange spraypaint left over from a failed decorating project and some raffia handles turned them into "Tangled" lanterns that could double as Halloween decorations. The party guests decorated the jars with stickers ($2) and filled them with glow sticks ($5). A craft that doubled as a favor. Done and done.

Since we had cupcakes, pizza and juice boxes, there was no need for silverware or cups. I used my Fiest ware plates. Nothing broke. Probably could've even skipped the pizza.

Although I'd planned a few paper crafts and cookie decorating, we never got around to it. The girls were happy sitting on the couch and petting our elderly Persian cat. And riding around the backyard in the hand-me-down Barbie Jeep. And peering through the cat door into the basement. And exploring my daughter's bedroom. It's always more fun to play with someone else's toys, right?

For the last 20 minutes of the party, they gathered in the living room with their glowing lanterns to watch "Tangled" with the lights out until their moms came to pick them up. It was kinda perfect.

Living in the Moment

With two kids born more than a decade apart, I spend a lot of time looking ahead and looking back. Living in the moment is something that I force myself to do. Friday, after Marshall's football game, Lila and I walked to the field.

"Let me get a picture," I said.

Without missing a beat, Marshall picked up his sister and I snapped a quick shot. As I was taking it, I heard a high school girl say, "Oh my gosh, that is gonna be the cutest picture ever. Oh my gosh!"

Whoever she was, that girl was right.

I waited for the Hipstamatic app to do its thing and then saw this moment captured on my phone. Then I looked at my kids--in person, in real time--and thought, "I'm gonna look back on this picture years from now and cry at how beautiful it was." And then I made myself focus on the now: how beautiful life is right now. Right this minute.  
That was Friday.

Today is Tuesday. Today, Lila turns six. In February, Marshall will turn 17. But, today, I'm gonna focus on right now. And I'm gonna order 9 copies of this photo from Hipstamatic.