Thursday, May 20, 2010

Night at the Museum

We had a "Night at the Museum."



Not quite as exciting or messy as what's-his-name-had in the movie.

But we definitely had one of those experiences where history was brought to life.
I am desperately trying to think of a way to tell ya why we were there ***lol*** without using the word lecture.
Hmmmmm. think.think.think.

I'll have to get back to this. chuckle.

*****

I grew up in the suburbs of D.C. and have been going to the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum
since I was a wee little kid.

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For years I thought that it was the "Aaron" Space Museum!

One of the very best parts of that place was getting to watch the IMAX movies!
Oh.my. My heart would pound, it was soooo exciting!
( I didn't grow up with TV, so any moving picture had us all looking like we didn't get out much!
We would be glued to the lineup of TV's just walking past 'em in Sears at the mall.)

IMAX was over the top. Dad would often purchase the double feature. Mom would get dizzy and close her eyes. I would feel half sick ~ and love it ~  at the twists and turns that oh.my.word. made ya feel like you were right there flying the plane. Unbelievable. We would proudly introduce out-of-town-friends to the WOW! of such an experience, like we kinda owned a piece of it or something, living close by and all.

And I will never, ever forget Pachelbel's Canon in D at the museum.

That's right. Most people associate that classical piece with weddings or something all ro-man-tical.
Not me. To this very day, everytime I hear that song I feel like a kid again.
A big, warm, fuzzy childhood memory that takes me straight to a flip down seat in the
IMAX theater at the museum.

See. They would always play Pachelbel's Canon in D as we waited for the movie to begin. We would watch as little arrows flashed on the screen with the words, "please move to the center of the row", with excited anticipation.  The Baroque era notes became the strings that tied it all together in the memory part of my little kid head.

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The other night we attended an exciting lecture multimedia event and talk given by
Robert A. "Bob" Hoover at the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum.

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Bob is a "fighter, military, and civilian test and air show pilot of legendary proportions. Using his superb piloting skills to fly aircraft to the edge of their performance capabilities, Hoover has left an indelible mark in aviation history. During his Air Force and North American Aviation careers, he flew 58 combat missions ( and as a WWII POW flew himself to freedom), served as backup pilot on the Bell X-1 and tested a wide array of fighter aircraft...[He] flew aerobatic routines...at more than 2,500 civilian and military air shows."

He shared the most amazing stories about his career and some of the pilots he has known including Orville Wright, Charles Lindbergh, Neil Armstrong and Yuri Gagarin.


We all listened attentively---NOT!

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Seriously. How many just turned five year old boys, love lectures multimedia events and talks???
There were only about 3 other kids (all of them teenagers) in the entire audience besides the family
that The Farmer and His Wife always take along.

I only became nervous when Jacob began to entertain himself by coughing loudly.
By coughing loudly, I mean something that sounded potentially projectile, like from a nursing-home-resident.

Then he crunched loudly on breath mints.
By crunching loudly on breath mints, I mean that it sounded like a large rodent gnawing on garbage under our seats.

Yes. Under our seats.
That's where, bless-his-little-heart, he finally fell asleep.

The only other stress was, that the person who "scusemepardonme-scusemepardonme" past our knees and toes to sit on my left, waft-ed the worst b.o. that I have ever been trapped next to on this planet.

Ever.

And you can count on The Farmer and His Wife for maturity with that kind of thing.

  



But one of the best parts?

Just as we entered the IMAX theater where the talk was to be held,
I heard the first notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D begin to play...

And I was a kid again.
Heart pounding.
Excitedly anticipating.
Ready to embark on the most amazing experience with my family.

It was an extra dollop of sweet frosting, on my "National Share Your Favorite Songs" piece of memory cake.

It was the kind of delicious that made my throat tight and my eyes blink real fast.

As I walked up the steps to our seats,

I thought about
another generation of kids,
my kids,making memories
just where I did
with the same music.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

A Belated Mother's Day Gift ~

I was given a present yesterday. I'm calling it a belated Mother's Day gift.

It wasn't wrapped.

No card.

But it was perfect.

Now I love, love, love cards.
And wrapped presents and especially those that include any kind of gummy candy.
I was treated to both on Sunday.

Gummi-Splat-a-pillars. Yum.
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( I can feel all the love as I chew.)   


Sometimes holidays and those special occasion times can feel like a set up for disaster.

( Please, pretty please, don't notice that this might be sounding just a wee bit familiar here.
I am afraid that if it does, you might believe that I'm a little Bah Humbug-y!
Which I am Not. Or, if I really am, I don't want you to know that. )

I love special and warm- fuzzy and all that, of course. And we have that. Sometimes.
But somehow those things can have a way of flying apart for us.
Or maybe it is the quiet that is so.hard. The quiet that screams loudly of all the...
                                                                                 missing pieces,
                                                                                 missing people,
                                                                                 missing relationships,

All that should be...and is not.

And then hearing someone at church, endlessly expound on the qualities of the Proverbs 31 wife and mother...which wouldn't have been such a bad thing,

except that The Farmer and Our Children were sitting there too
and probably even listening!!!
Sigh.


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Now. Where was I ?
Oh. Yesterday's present.

So. It was from my teenage son. One of them.
He came home from school all excited. Really, really happy excited. Thrilled because I was picked to be one of the parent chaperones for his field trip.





Just.
letting.
that.
sink.
in.
awhile.




I understand what people mean when they say, "Pick your battles."
Oh really, I do. And let me just say that some kids pick more battles than others.

We have some really determined hard heads in this family ( and I'm saying that looking into the mirror while pointing at The Farmer's offspring  ) who are constantly testing boundaries, leaning on fences and practicing their trial-lawyer-argumentative abilities on a daily basis.

On really dark days I shamefully admit to The Farmer what is surely already glaring and obvious.
I'm really not good with kids.
(Funny, how I thought that I, might be/would be, good with kids, because I wanted to be a mother more than anything. But that is working out for me like standing in your garage makes you a car.)

I wrote a comment to a friend yesterday;
"I am shattered pieces of who and what I wanted to be
for the most precious people on this planet
who don't even let me pee by myself."

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Ok. The present. I am really getting to yesterday's present.
All that was to say,
that while we really do LOVE each other,
we don't always like each other.

And yesterday, my son said that he wants me on his trip,                                                                      with his friends,
                                                        and that he really likes me.
                                                                     
A precious, belated Mother's Day Gift for sure.

A perfect present for any day.

And a reminder that I have more in common with teenagers than I think I do on some days.

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We.all.just.want.to.be.liked.


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               "The quickest way for a mother to get her children's
                attention is to sit down and look comfortable." ~
Lane Olinghouse

                      "Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a
                       person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
                       but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together,
                       knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
                       keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness,
                       blow the rest away."   ~George Eliot

Saturday, May 8, 2010

You know that you're a mother when...

You know that you're a mother when...
you've walked through a lovely town,
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to go out for a little coffee,
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and one of the sweetest parts...
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was seeing this;
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Jacob's little black boots parked by the doors.




Motherhood ~~~ "Where the days are long and the years are short."


Happy Mother's Day!