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Deus volt; Deus mittit me.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

The Medal, Please

Wow. I think I have the coolest kids on the planet. No, you can try and push yours up to second best or go for super sidekick, but mine have the top of the podium. The Officials in charge of these things are playing the national anthem while my kids put their hands over their hearts and accept their Best child medals.

I've been feeling badly this weekend. I won't go into why, except that it involved some unkind words by various parties and no apologies. I just kept riding the roller coaster down and down and it wasn't coming back up much. Why is it the ones we love have the greatest capacity to wound us the deepest? 

I've been asking myself all week. When I really had a chance to sit down and ponder, I found the answer. It's because we care. And our greatest loves know it and they test that fact over and over again. Sometimes they push that button out of an ill-thought-out wish to  improve something, and sometimes they push it to torture us. (Stupid button. I'm taking a sledge hammer to that freakin' thing.) The jury's still out. It's probably the former, but there's lots of the latter sprinkled all over the top.

But that's not the story. I won't wallow here. Suffice it to say that I was feeling like someone had lopped off my dolls' heads and shoved them down the laundry chute. (Wait, I think we did that to each other when we were kids. I certainly don't have a chute now.) My friend C. had invited our family over for an annual celebration their family does about this time every year. We BBQ and swim and laugh ourselves silly until the wee hours.

Last night I wasn't feeling it. I came a whisker's length away from phoning her and telling her I wasn't into the party thing this week--I was waiting for the apology.

But I didn't phone her. She'd worked hard on the party and I was bringing the condiments. Then it turned out the Hubs was going off to purchase more hiking gear for himself and my son as they are soon going off on a major hiking trip. We wouldn't even be riding to the party in the same car. He'd "swept the leg" and I was down for the count. 

I was dreading the trip through the door, the possible hiding out in a corner somewhere, and the well-meaning questions. Wee. 

But they opened the door and yelled Surprise! There was a birthday banner, a whole room-full of guests, delicious dinner, and a gargantuan piece of an enormous cake which was one of the best-tasting cakes I'd ever had. C. said my son, H. and my daughter, Co. had put it all together. They'd surprised me with a 2 month late birthday party! (The better to absolutely fool you, Mom.) The whole night was dedicated to Queen Me. I wanted to drown them all in a flood of tears. Co. had put together a whole slide show of me and invited several of my closest friends. My son H. had planned to have a sort of Mom Eagle Court of Honor but he couldn't pull all the details together in time. I couldn't have been more surprised.

The moment was so surreal. It was like finding yourself about to jump off the Empire State building when someone steps up and hands you a check for a million dollars. (Not that I'm anywhere near that bad, but still...) Just the thought that these busy, super-absorbed teenagers had taken time out of their goblin-killing careers to make something about me meant so much! Thank you C. as well. You are one fantastic friend!

We had a great time and I went home feeling like my children love me. I wouldn't have traded that set of diamond moments for anything in the world. I'm going to have to write them an anthem.

2 comments:

  1. So, was hubby part of this? That wasn't clear.

    I hope so. And happy belated birthday!

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  2. Hubby apparently tried to get the cultural hall so H. could do it up really big, but they figured it would be easier to get me to go to C's house.
    Ah thank you, Donna! It was totally out of left field. The only thing that could have made it more fun is dancing, but I suppose that's for a future birthday--you know, the one you get to attend...rofl

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