On The Town

We had our first real adventure in babysitting last night. We've been meaning to try it out for a while now, but until our hand was forced we always found an excuse to stay home. Last night, however, was an exception. Nancy was awarded the Arts Educator of the Year award at the Bravo Awards, sponsored by Arts Illiana, the major community arts organization in the Wabash Valley. So we went.

We struggled over who should babysit. Fran would be at the ceremony, so she was out. Julio and Sandra were game, but Sandra's back was out and we didn't want to inflict our wild things on her in that condition. Students are, well, students. So we asked the great "Miss Lisa" from daycare and, to our eternal gratefulness, she agreed. Dave and Trin heart Miss Lisa in a big toddler, jump up and down, hug your leg, do a little dance kind of way. Plus, she's a childcare professional. How much better could we get? The kids were so excited to see her when she arrived at 6:00 that they had to show her everything in the house. They were eager to show her everything in their world outside of daycare: Peanut, Eddie, the porch, the playroom. And so we left them in the more than able hands of Miss Lisa and headed off to the awards ceremony. I wore a suit.

Nancy had attended several of these ceremonies in the past and they were all pretty much the same: dinner followed by the quick presentation of awards -- a brief encomium by the executive director, announce recipient, receive award, shake hands, sit down. This year, however, there was no dinner -- just hors d'oeuvres and a cash bar in the lobby of the art gallery. The award ceremony itself took place in the recital hall across from the gallery and all the award recipients had to sit on the stage. Worse still, they were expected to give a brief speech after being introduced and then getting the award. Poor Nancy; she hates public attention in general and public speaking even more. And they hadn't told her about this new devlopment, so she didn't have anything prepared. The good news is that she handled it all with the grace and charm that we've all come to expect from Nancy. Check it out for yourself (thank you Mike Kelsay and his Flip video camera!):



(That's me at the end making the Chad Lowe reference. Unlike Chad, though, I did not cry).

We promised Lisa we would be back by 9:00, and so we were. The kids were still up (we told Lisa not to worry about bedtime) and Very Excited to See Us. Apparently, they were well behaved, save for a bit of impromptu nudity in the backyard. Also, we apparently forgot to tell Lisa that we had a cat, so Eddie's sudden and swift entrance into the kitchen from the porch took her by surprise. We overpaid her and the kids kissed her goodnight. Trin was so tired by now that she simply sobbed all the way through her (very short) bath and the lotion-diaper-pajama process. She was asleep within seconds of putting her in bed. Even David went to bed relatively quickly.

But now it's one day later. It's 9:50 and Nancy is still trying to coax Trin to sleep. David went off early, but awoke at about 8:45, saw that it was light-ish out, and decided it was morning (a prospect about which he was none too happy). Nancy finally convinced him that he could go back to sleep. And now Trinity has decided that she must have Mommy tonight. Maybe it's the increased humidity that's keeping her up, or the bubble bath that may have made her oh-so-sensitive skin itchy.

Or maybe it's because she's been caught unwittingly in the glow of Nancy's greatness and radiant charm. I know it keeps me up at night. I'm just glad other people are starting to see it, too.

All About My Mother

Another Mother's Day is here and it's another year that I have failed to get a card. I always call, of course, and Mom says it's OK -- it's better to hear in person, etc. -- but, still. It's not that I haven't been thinking about getting a card for the last couple of weeks ("This is the year," I say) but then, like getting a haircut, it just doesn't happen quite in time. And then Sunday arrives...

So, thanks, Mom, for understanding that I'm forgetful and a bit of a procrastinator, for always treating me like what I had to say was important, for telling me I have a nice singing voice, for being a good storyteller, for always having treats of one kind or another on the counter, for not being overly concerned about things like watching television, for telling me to look words up in the dictionary, for having an excellent sense of humor, for being concerned instead of mad when I did something really wrong, for loving Nancy and Trinity and David even though I have a habit of not introducing you to future family members until the deal is done, for riding with me on the go-karts when I was too small to go alone, for letting me listen to all that loud music when I was a kid, for recognizing that the trumpet was not my instrument, for recognizing that the drums were, for singing "Happy Birthday" on the phone every year, for sandwiches in brown paper bags, for Easter baskets in semi-hidden places, for a trip across the country in a station wagon, for putting up with absolute goofiness, for being devout (and being understanding about the fact that I am not), for being consistent, for being a little goofy yourself, for liking a good stiff drink every now and then, for modeling moderation, for being complex, for being good, for being kind, and for being unconditionally devoted to your family.

There's a lot more things I could say, of course, but I have to save something for that card I'm going to get you next year.

Happy Mother's Day from the gang in Terre Haute: