You have to enjoy the magic when it happens, know what I mean?
This weekend was full of it. It was one of those periods of time that you dread, fearing you'll never get through it, and that you'll be too exhausted from all the preparation once it arrives to enjoy any part of it. And then you're absolutely knocked off-balance by the pure goodness of what comes.
There was a family wedding on Friday night, which actually started Friday at noon --blah, blah, boring details involving tuxedo mishaps, a "sudden" discovery that the dress I planned to wear was too small (MMMMMmmmm-hmmmmm, that's right ladies: I've officially entered the Spanks phase of my life), and a lesson for my children I like to call, "on-the-road-change-of-clothes".
(Sidebar: Mom, remember that time when you followed me home in your car, and when we arrived at our destination I was in an entirely different outfit than the one I set-out wearing? You told me that "changing-while-driving" was illegal and that you almost had a heart attack driving behind me, wondering "what the hell I was doing up there?!!"? Well, I've passed this talent on to your grandchildren now. Telling you via Blog, I figure at least I don't have to see the horror on your face.)
OK, back to the good stuff. So, we have this incredible, high-church wedding on Friday night--one of those times when I felt suspended, holy, blissful, surrounded by some other-than-earthly warmth I'm trying to (but can't seem to) put into words. I'm not sure how everyone else felt about it because I didn't want to spoil it by asking. The moment was just unlike any other. Thanks, Laura and Tim.
Saturday rolls around and starts out as usual, except for the BONUS sleep-in (yippee!). Usually, I'm up early, teaching singing lessons. (That doesn't seem possible, does it--someone having the ability to actually SING early on a Saturday morning? Luckily, I'm not the one doing the "actual" singing, I'm the one faking the singing, and doing the TEACHING! They're kids, for goodness sake--they can do ANYTHING at ANY TIME, lucky ducks.) Thanks to 3 cancellations in-a-row, I got to snooze later than usual, helping me feel like I'd been re-charged. (I'm almost never even charged, much less re-charged!)
Lessons went better than usual. Maybe it was this new-found energy, I don't know, but my words came out sounding elloquent and, I'm pretty sure they made sense, too! Most times while teaching, I find it hard to verbalize the art of vocalizing. It seems to me, since I'm a pretty seasoned singer, and a trained educator, that I should be able to explain how to do it, don't you think? Well, it's not that easy, friends. But this time, things just flowed, as they do on occasion--and I channelled some authentic voice teacher whose knowledge stuns and inspires her students minds--and mouths. There's nothing like that feeling: that rare moment when we look at each other, student and teacher, and we just KNOW something special just happened. I love that moment.
I REALLY did NOT want to go home after teaching. But I had to. Sunday held too much in store and I had a pig sty house to clean & 5 children to coax into the bath, as well--their dirty, little and not-so-little-getting-bigger-by-the-minute bodies desperate for a scrub-down. (Quick question: At what point does one cross-over from fighting about bathing and napping to BEGGING for a bath and a nap?) Again, I digress.
My husband picked me up and, after discussing the plan for the rest of the day like 2 adults, we entered the house armed with good intentions. I promptly ditched the agreed-upon plan and took charge. A little "voice raising" and a dash of threatening later, the house was good-to-go! Another miracle.
Spending the evening with old friends (who made an unexpected 6 hour drive to be with our family for a special Sunday) was sublime. They're the ones you rarely see or speak to, but somehow never loose touch with. Time together is so easy. We eat, we chuckle, cry a little, eat more, laugh more. We lose our breath with gut-wrenching giggles at long ago memories and make some new ones for the next time around. Unforgettable nights when we linger in our goodbye-ing because we all know how precious this time together is.
Sunday morning could have been, and usually is hell. I often say that Satan moves in on Sunday mornings, trying to keep these 7 souls out of heaven. (Not this week, baby.) Thanks to good prep. on my husband's part, the children were clean and clad for the holy occasion. Our child, pure of heart, happily made his First Communion--a big deal to us all--loved and surrounded by everyone in his little universe. Even Mimi and Papa made it from Florida, just in time. What could be better (other than the chocolate fountain, cake and presents that followed, obviously!)? My last little angel, another sweet crossing over the bridge to what comes next.
Sigh. Smile. Savor.
