The latest philosophical discussion during dinner:
#3 staring at her glass of water intently: “Mama? Why is water called water? And…why are beans ‘beans’? …And what about boxes? Why ‘boxes’?”
After experiencing one too many category-5 tantrums from #4 today, my mind was mush. With each tantrum, it feels like a part of my brain that is in charge of patience, empathy, and pure logic is slowly disintegrating.
Me with a sigh and a look of forlorn: “I don’t know. No idea. I got nothing. Nada.”
I see her disappointed look and I add: “Well….maybe someone a long time ago decided to name everything and they came up with names for everything.”
#2 adds: “Yeah! Like before we were born. A really really long time ago, before there were words, so the first people had to name everything. Maybe when we were stars. Because we were stars before you know. We are made of stars.”
#3: “What? Like a superstar?” (She gets up from the dinner table and does a pose as if to have a microphone in her hand while the other hand is up in the air waving to an imaginary audience.) “Or a star from the sky star?” (She quickly changes poses to a mid-jumping jack star pose.)
#2: “A sky star.”
#3: “Awwwww. I’d rather been a superstar.”
Me: “You probably were.”
Two weekends ago:
Me to the kids: “So tomorrow we are going to a secret wedding. No one knows about it and I’m not going to say anymore on the subject.”
#1: “Who’s getting married? Wait…is it you and Dad?”
Me: “God, no. Once is enough. I’m not telling.”
All: “Pleeease! Give us a clue!”
Me: “Ok, it’s going to be a man and a woman getting married.”
#1: “That’s a given! Or not. It could have been two men or two women. Right.”
Me thinking: “I love raising my kids in the city.”
Me: “I’m not going to tell you because I was sworn to secrecy. You’ll see tomorrow.”
The next day…
We get to the church and it’s completely empty. The kids are even more confused. Ever-Patient and I feel both overdressed. I tell him that as the matron of honour I should look presentable and take a break from my current uniform of jogging pants and T-Shirt. The kids are wearing their holiday outfits because we are on a spending freeze and I hardly think that new clothes are pre-requisites for attending a secret wedding (though #3 disagrees). The couple arrives and we get the party started…
The happy couple is my mother and step-father getting married in a Catholic Church. Long story and frankly, it’s a story that is not mine to tell. I can say that it was a secret because my mother wanted to avoid hoopla and all the pomp and circumstance that surrounds every event in our large extended family.
Here’s a pic with the kids (still confused), Ever-Patient, and my brothers attending the nuptials. My brother is the best man and I am the matron of honour, I guess…though technically, we’re just witnesses which I prefer to matron-of-honour since it sounds like I am a 60 year old woman wearing a large hat.
After the “you may kiss the bride” part which sealed the deal (and grossed out all the attendees), we took a family pic with the priest who insisted that Ever-Patient include the WHOLE crucifix in the background of the photo, which confused the kids even more…
Then we went for brunch and never spoke of the secret wedding again.