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I can’t do it.  I can’t even fake it.  That old adage ‘Fake it until you make it’….yeah, that’s not happening.

Other parents can, though.  And plenty of them, by the look of things this weekend.   I heard barks of encouragement.  I saw excitement and frustration and joy and disappointment on the faces of so many parents.  The whole gamut.

There were even parent spats.

There were people who hushed their spouses so they wouldn’t get thrown out.

There was drama galore, I tell you.

But ultimately, they kept it together.  No one flat out lost it.

And then there was me….

….sitting up at the top of the bleachers, in the fetal position, sucking my thumb.

Why?

Because  this  moment:

is more than my heart can take….regardless of the outcome.

I’m just not cut out for this.

God help me if she takes up snowboarding.

Tonight, as I came home with my Critter from his basketball practice, I opened the kitchen door to the most wonderful spectacle:  Varmint had set up a birthday celebratory dinner for me.

There were party hats.

There was confetti.

There was crepe paper.

There were paper and foil stars hanging precariously from the lightfixture in a highly flammable fashion.

There were those little paper roll up blow toys, which, to Critter’s dismay, did NOT make a loud honking sound.

And all of this because Varmint wanted to make my birthday special.

Let me tell you something, friends.  The day you are too old to feel all warm and fuzzy when someone hands you a party hat and paper horn and tells you it’s all about you, is the day you might as well lay down and die.   Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, says love like a surprise birthday meal.

Especially one planned and executed by an 11-year-old Varmint.

…..

Thank you, sweetheart.  I love you, too.

A friend posted a picture of the center of our little town on Facebook tonight (Thank you, Valerie!).

When I looked at it, it was as if I was seeing Poolesville, Maryland for the first time.

Isn’t it beautiful?

We do actually live in color, even if much of our town is a little ‘old-tyme.’

Poolesville has one foot in 2013, and the other sometime in the ’50’s, I think.  And we seem to like it that way; we take the best of both.  It’s small enough that we are somewhat connected, but large enough that not everyone knows your business, unless you’re misbehaving…..

Our crime rate is lower than the national average.

Our schools rate higher than the national average.

People tend to be a little politer here then they are farther south in Montgomery County.  Maybe it’s because we are not as much in a hurry.  Maybe it’s because we aren’t so full of ourselves that we need to push one another out of the way.  Maybe because at any given time, someone around does know you, and will tell your ma if you’re being an embarrassment to the family.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, we do have our beloved McDonald’s and I have been known to get a little snippy in line if I am really super hungry and my sausage burrito is being held up by the lady in front of me who has to count out her exact change, and in doing so finds she has some Canadian coins that she wonders could they please take anyways, and no, says the kid behind the counter, and could you get the manager, please she says, and meanwhile the eggs in my burrito which I can SEE under the warmer are turning to rubber as we speak… wait, what was I talking about?

Oh, right.  Small town.  Polite.  Got it.

What I’m saying is, on the whole, we are fairly like “Mayberry.”

And, lukewarm sausage burritos aside, I like it that way.

Do you remember Mad Libs?  A few weeks ago, Goggy and Papa bought Critter a Mad Elf as a reward for getting such good grades.   It’s a little gizmo that asks you to supply words, then incorporates those words into a pre-written story, and tells it.

In an elf voice.

And apparently all elves suck Helium before speaking.

If you remember back in ~ Love Chain ~ we had gone to visit My Captain at the fire station where he was working overtime, because we missed him, because he’s working so hard, and because he has been away so much from his family during this holiday, he was a little bit down.

We arrived at Station 23….

…..gave him his advent chain, and then Critter brought out his new Mad Elf.

My Captain allowed Critter to suck him into a story.

He took direction well from Varmint.

Critter’s schtick is pretty much like any other 9-year-old boy’s would be….

…every time he was asked for a noun, he offered: ‘Poop.’  Every time he was asked for a plural noun, he offered:  ‘Buttcheeks.’  Every time he was asked for a verb, he offered: ‘Farting.’    You get the picture.  This is nothing new to us.  But it cracks Critter up every stinkin’ time.

My Captain was not only able to understand the humor….he regressed and met Critter on that level with such alacrity and ease it was astounding.

And frankly, I think he needed that.

So to anyone suffering the blues during the holidays, I advise you to go immediately to your nearest Hallmark and buy a Mad Elf, because frankly, there are few things in this world funnier than hearing the word “Buttcheeks” in an elf-voice.

My Captain and I got to spend time with old friends last night.  We don’t get to see them very often, so when it happens, we like to fill the time with deep thoughts, introspection, and soulful heart to heart conversation.

It was a wonderful evening of philosophy and debate.

We talked politics, romance, and religion.

I won’t lie to you, the discussion was intense at times.

But the food was good.

As was the fellowship.

This is how our friend, Jim, met us at the movie theatre.

Jim doesn’t really have a moustache.

Other than that, he and his wife, Tammy, are completely ‘Normal.’

And we love ’em!