Dreams Are Back

I'm having dreams again. It feels like it's been months since I've remembered them, probably because I was on the coma-inducing allergy medication Zyrtec, which insured that I conked out and slept the sleep of the dead pretty much every night. I'm on the more human-friendly Claritin now, so some dreams are making their way through to the conscious side once again. And I'm finding them quite interesting.

Friday night's dream was this: my mom is planning an epic, medieval-sized party, one worthy of a Douglas Sirk film or an episode of Dynasty. She has made yards and yards of itemized lists and is now subjecting my stepdad and I to reviewing all of them. They're all written on these mini yellow-lined pads, like shrunken legal briefs. Some are written in her neat elementary-school script; others are scrawled, like they are in real life when she is in one of her manic phases and sends us all incomprehensible letters explaining herself.

So Dad and I are sitting there reviewing her lists with her--seating charts and decorations and entertainment and the like--and I start to get that itchy feeling I do with her in real life when she just goes on and on about her most recent project and you just have to listen and nod and smile. It's like playing school with Addie: she's the teacher, and your job is to simply sit and be told what to do.

I don't remember much else except this: for the party, Mom has commissioned a special trompe l'oeil painting on the wall in an "oriental" theme. It seems really tacky to me, which is odd, because my mom's taste is actually very sophisticated. But on this dream wall, there are giant geishas, gaudily painted, making their way around the kitchen. Then there is this blank spot, and my mom explains that this is where portraits of the family will be painted. Except she can't bring herself to get them up there. She shows me photographs of each of us that can be used to make the mural, and in mine, I have baggy cargo pants and a t-shirt on. Of course it wouldn't look right for me to be up there with those geishas.

Of course my being there would ruin the tableau.

In real life, my mom is about to turn sixty, and is planning a huge party to celebrate (as she should). E. and the girls and I will go a few days earlier, spend some time in McCall, and then meet my mom for dinner on her actual birthday. We won't be at the actual party at all. We will be missing.

And that's just fine with me.

Oh What A Night

Have you ever had that feeling where everything feels just right, like everything you've gone through in your life--the good stuff, the bad stuff, the stuff you weren't sure you would survive and come out the other side--somehow all makes sense? It was all so you could just have that one moment?

That was pretty much all of Saturday night for me. Because E. pulled off the double-mctwisty-birthday-surprise-party. And, well, I don't know how else to put it: I somehow felt, "I've arrived." Or, "Ah. This is what it has all been for." Or, "Holy shit, what have I done to deserve such happiness."

I don't know. Those things sound too dramatic and momentous for a little old surprise party. But something about people going to that kind of trouble, and having so many wonderful people in one place, and just being able to enjoy it, was very fabulous.

Am I making too much of it? Should feelings like that be reserved for, I don't know, accomplishments? Feats of daring? Saving the world?

Perhaps, too, I'm just narcissistic. Maybe people said to themselves, "That Jen. What a pain in the ass. But I guess I'll go to the party anyway. There will be jello shots. And karaoke." That could be. Maybe I was just high on my own pomposity.

But what I felt, really, was love. So, I'm just going to enjoy that for a momentito.

Or a lifetime.

I won't go too into the details, but the general outline was E. getting a babysitter and then arranging for a few friends to meet us at a restaurant. I thought this was the surprise. And it was a good one! It was a lovely dinner with people I love, and also hummus. But then one of the couples said, Oh, we've got this vegan dessert for you back at the house, let's go hang, and I walked in the house and a bunch of people jump out and yell surprise and I scream and hit the deck and then roll around the floor in delight (mostly at the surprise, but also because I didn't pee my pants). And then very interesting renditions of American pop hits ensued, lubed by delicious double jello shots.

That Eric. My goodness. And all of you! Keeping your traps shut. Very impressive.

I'll never forget it. Thank you loves, for everything.

Birthday Extravaganza

These are a bit late, but I thought a few pictures from Addie's sixth birthday extravaganza were in order. First, a quiet party at home with family and a few special friends:



Then, a weekend trip to Southern California and Disneyland, where the girls had their faces painted in Princess-O-Rama-Land to look like kitties:





These aren't taken in the park itself because we forgot our camera. Yes, WE FORGOT TO TAKE OUR CAMERA TO DISNEYLAND. So shoot us. Let me tell you, though, it was an absolutely lovely day, despite all my anxiety. We had three goals: to visit Pixie Hollow, see a princess, and go through It's a Small World. We also had a time limit--we were only going to spend six hours there. I think that was the secret to our success: keep things manageable. Because it really was a lovely and magical, albeit very expensive, day.

Which was capped with a rousing game of "Throw the Ball on Granddad's Roof and Watch It Roll Down:"



(Yes, that is an exact replica of what Eric is going to look like in twenty-five years or so. Beer and everything. Except maybe minus the moustache).

But I think the best part of all was time spent with cousins. Because aren't cousins really the best thing ever?

On to Six

I think this time six years ago we were heading into our second day of labor, thinking we were going to see Addie any time now. She didn't actually come until the following day, the 6th. It feels like yesterday. It feels like eons ago. But that's how time goes. And here we are at Addie's golden birthday, where she turns six on the sixth.

I put her on the bus a few minutes ago for her last day of kindergarten as a five-year-old, and then came back home to put the finishing touches on her birthday doll.



This is all she is getting from us this year present-wise, since we're headed to California for a breakneck nosebleed-inducing pleasureshot through Disneyland on Saturday. If we survive I'll blog about it.

Anyway, here is what I know about Addie at this moment:

1. She has a very, very big heart. She loves her parents and her sister and her cats and her dog. When Nolie gets hurt, Addie is the first one there, putting the bandaid on and hugging her. Unless she was the one to hurt Nolie, which happens, and in which case she feels pretty bad about it. Sometimes a little, wee, tiny bit smug. But mostly bad.

2. Her bike still has training wheels, but not for much longer, I suspect. Her legs are long and strong, and she runs much straighter and more quickly than she used to.

3. Her favorite things are art, reading, and nature, though I'm not sure what order she would put them in. She is constantly building and designing things, inspecting the yard for signs of spring, and reading voraciously about everything from princesses to "mini-beasts."

4. She is still sensitive, though much more likely to laugh than cry compared to a year ago.

5. Addie is a goofball. Don't know where she gets this from. Must be E. Definitely E.

6. She is loyal and kind, and expects the same in return. This makes it very difficult to be harsh or unfair with her. A good thing.

7. She can eat three bowls of pasta in one sitting and still looks like a string bean. Also from E., goddammit.

8. She hates tags of any kind on her clothing, knows how to buckle her own seatbelt, can make herself a snack and operate the tv, on demand, and vcr, knows how to use a mouse on a desktop and laptop, still lisps and drools occasionally, can't tie her own shoes, can make her own bed, loves fruits and vegetables, hates plain milk, isn't big enough to walk Milo the Moose on her own yet, though desperately wants to, and is otherwise a wonderful, fantastic, loving kid in every way. We are so blessed, so so blessed.

Happy Birthday, my Addie.