I was treated to a triple feature this morning. A triple feature in the span of an hour is unusual, even with our family, so I feel obligated to share the wealth. Here is a quick recap:
Feature One was “Liar Liar Pants on Fire”. While it was well acted and the actor certainly committed to the role, the lie itself was not plausible and therefore the audience new in the opening seconds that her pants were in fact on fire. I do give her credit however, as she was determined and stayed with the lie until it’s dying breath, only then switching to pleading and begging for forgiveness. All in all, while the material was poorly contrived, the actor is a natural.
Feature Two was an oldie but goodie performance of “I’m Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’ – Telling You 'NO' Just One More Time”. The dialogue was expected, a lot of “NO”’s, and again the performance was well acted as he owned the character. I did in fact want to bruise him, repeatedly.
Feature Three was a true joy to behold. A surprising and magnificent rendition of “I Can’t Fathom Why, But I Now Must Lose My Ever Loving Mind”. This performance had everything! It was unexpected, emotionally exhausting, and physically challenging, a true Oscar worthy performance. There was foot stomping and body trembling, throat burning screams and floods of tears. The audience felt shock, confusion, disbelief, anger, and amusement all within the opening 30 seconds of this lengthy, multi-dimensional, 20 minute performance.
If you are interested in experiencing these performances yourself you’ll be pleased to know that each performance will be shown again in limited release. I can’t confirm date, time or location of these fine exhibits of raw acting power, however, I can tell you if you spend any significant time with our family you are practically assured a viewing of at least one or more of these special impromptu plays as encores appear to be a favorite of these stunning young performers.
I love this picture, I love how each of these children are so perfectly comfortable intertwined with one another. The utter closeness it represents, the connection, the trust. The imagination and wonder of just being silly without worry of judgment. The total abandonment of self awareness.
When they get older, they’ll begin to get self conscious. They’ll worry more and more about what others think of them, their bodies, what they are doing, how they are dressed. It’s unavoidable. And when that happens they will lose a bit of the complete joy captured in this picture. My hope is to keep this loss to a minimum. To teach my children to consider, for no more than a blink of an eye, what others might think and then remember that what matters is what they already know – and to enjoy the moment, unencumbered, for everything that it is.
There is something special about a mother and son relationship, just as I know for a fact there is something special between a father and daughter, that I can’t put my finger on. It’s not that a mother loves her sons more than her daughters, not at all, but there is something deep seeded and completely undiluted.
Perhaps the thing is, with daughters (for mothers) there is some minuscule amount (no matter how we would deny it) of wishing and hoping they don’t make the same choices we did or that they join the teams or groups we didn't, have a hidden talent we always wished for. However, with sons, that thinking isn’t applicable so there is no amount of anxiety or wishful of what could have been tethered to that love.
When we decided to go for our third child we knew there was a very real possibility we would have another girl and we would have loved that. John had convinced himself that he would be a father of three daughters and I told myself I didn't care either way. When I was pregnant with Loretta and Caroline I never once felt I knew for sure what I was going to have. I always called my bundle of joy "the baby" when I talked about them moving or kicking. But when I was pregnant with Sam, before I knew he was a boy, I was referring to him as "he" or "him" in my mind from very early on. I began to realize that secretly I really wanted a boy, but I didn't know just how desperately until 18 weeks along when we found out the sex, something we hadn't done for either girl.
I had admitted, at least to my self, that I wanted a son and decided that if there was going to be even one millisecond of disappointment if this baby was a girl I wanted it to happen mid pregnancy, not on the baby's birthday which should only be pure joy. John didn't really want to find out the sex, but supported me and almost as soon as the technician put the wand on my belly she said "it's a boy!". It was pretty easy to see since Sam was pointing at himself, practically screaming "get rid of the pink mama!". I was surprised by my own reaction to this news. I knew I wanted a son, but I had no idea just how desperately until my little man was confirmed. I sobbed with happiness, moving so much with my own laughter and tears that the woman could barely finish the exam.
I'm a daddy's girl and proud of it. I miss being close to my family so much and a girl always needs her mom, but deep down I'm a daddy's girl and I know all about that wonderfully special father/daughter connection. And it was pretty clear to me even before I got pregnant with Sam that Loretta and Caroline both were well on their way to a wonderfully special father/daughter relationship with John too. It's even more obvious now. John relates to both of them so well and on such different levels. John and Loretta are both naturally athletic and energetic. They love to be outside and explore and collect rocks and leaves. John and Caroline connect on a more emotional level. It's more subtle, but they just seem to get one another. There are times when they both just need their quiet time and sometimes Caroline pulls into the inner shelter of herself a little and when that happens it's often John who brings her back out of her shell.
I think more than anything, I wanted that connection too. Like the one I had with my dad, like the one John has with the girls, which will only grow stronger over the years. Like the one my mom has with Paul. Sam is emotional and stubborn, tender and sweet, loving and funny, destructive and adorable. He's this little man in my life who is forever sitting on my lap and loves and dotes on me, battles and defies me, teases and tests me and cheers for me like I'm a super hero. I'm completely wrapped around his grimy, car crashing, little boy finger and I love it.
