The Cast

Every play, every life story has a cast of characters. Some you choose, some you don’t. Here are the ones you will encounter most frequently here in abcVille*.

Me

I’m in every post. How cool is that? Great stuff for any self-respecting narcissist. If you cannot figure me out by reading my blog entries, you can go here to read a bit lot more about me.

Hubby

I met Hubby back when I was at the tender, bright-eyed age of 24. We’ve been together ever since. “Thick and thin” cannot begin to describe all the craziness we have lived through in the past 17 years. And, we’re still together. And, he is still my favorite guy and my best friend.

He is also a pretty private person, so beyond that little tidbit, I will continue to do my best to shade him from scrutiny and exploitation here in my little corner of the blogosphere. After all, I want to add another few decades to our 17 years!

Claire

Claire has always been an amazing child. I am not exaggerating here: she rolled over at ~8 weeks, she talked in complete sentences at 9 months, and she also walked – not just a tentative step or a little furniture cruising – at 9 1/2 months. She also had terrible colic for the first 9 months of her life, but that is a journey irrelevant to the person she has become, so I’ll spare you the wretched details about she and I conducting our own little experiment that completely validated the fact that sleep deprivation is, without doubt, a form of torture.

She’s always been unbelievably articulate and creative. She is also unbelievably sensitive, so I’m thinking we’re really in for it when she hits puberty. (Which, coincidentally, is when I’ll be going through The Change. How much blog fodder do you think THOSE years will yield?)

Claire loves to talk. She loves art projects of all types. She loves playing teacher and being in charge in general. She’s danced through the phases of Elmo, Princesses, and Hannah Montana with great gusto. She’s recently decided she loves reading (PTL!), and she is turning into a pretty decent singer. She can be quite gullible, and she was pretty unhappy to hear that she was going to become a Big Sister to Kate, and then Amy. Despite being only three years old, she had no problem articulating her strong opposition to any addition that would obliterate her “only child” status. (When she saw the ultrasound of the little blob that was to become Amy, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Oh no, Mama! We can’t handle anotherone!” My Ob/Gyn still reminds me of that little incident.)

When I think of ways to explain Claire to people, to describe her inner beauty and intuitive helpfulness, a warm summer day during our subdivision garage sale comes to mind. While I tried to purge the house of some of its clutter for a few bucks, I let Claire and her sisters and a few of the neighbor kids sell Rice Krispie treats and Kool-aid. (They made a killing, by the way, and it drew in way more customers to look at all my junk than I would have otherwise had.) It was Friday afternoon, and often in summer our garbage doesn’t get picked up until late in the day. Claire casually glanced up a few times as the garbage truck made its stops, squealing its air brakes, and smelling foul and rancid.

Without saying a word, Claire suddenly grabbed a napkin and a large Rice Krispie treat and ran down the sidewalk two driveways to where the garbage man was emptying yet another trashcan. And this beautiful, bright eyed child in pigtails and a pretty yellow dress trotted up to this complete stranger, stood with one hand behind her back, and ever so kindly offered him the snack. I’m not sure who was more taken aback – him, or me and the other adults idling around our garage. His smile transformed him from a nameless sanitation worker into another regular guy doing an unpleasant job in insane heat. A man who, to that point, I never had thought much about. As he carefully extracted his hand from his work glove to accept Claire’s token of kinship, all at once, I saw him as somebody’s son, husband, father. Claire gave a little wave to him and skipped back to our house.

That is the kind of girl that Claire is. She sees the humanity and need so clearly exactly where many of us forget it exists. And she makes the world a better place by unabashedly sharing her point of view with those around her by simply being a living example of kindness and understanding.

Kate

More to come. For now, go here to learn a little about my sweet Kindergartener.

Amy

More to come. For now, you can read about Amy’s antics and gauge her personality here, here, here, here, and here.

My Neighborhood

I cannot say enough positive things about my neighbors and the area where we all live. My neighbors love my children and treat them as their own. They tolerate me, my eccentricites, and my endless opinions on anything and everything. I have been served lunches, suppers, and desserts by many moms who live next door, across the street, and up the road. Our kids all go to school together, and we carpool and exchange parenting woes as regularly as the sun rises. We dish on the best teachers, entertainment deals, and all manners of pediatric health care. We watch each other’s kids on date night, we take care of each other’s pets during each other’s annual vacations/weekend getaways, we shovel each other’s sidewalks frequently, and we know the middle names of every child on our respective blocks.

If I didn’t have all these good people with varied talents and endless patience, I’d be even more insane than I already am. No joke.

Beethoven

I have hesitated to talk about my cat, because so often I have found that declaring yourself a “cat person” places you in a little cubbyhole in the mind of certain dog lovers. And I confess, I AM partial to cats. I have yet to find any feline who fits the stereotype of difficult, unaffectionate, and moody, which is really saying something since I have had a cat almost continuously from the age of about 5. Although now that I think about it, my first cat, Cleo, was a bit of a *itch. But not to me, of course. But I digress.

Like so many of my feline friends, Beethoven, who is a female despite her male name, loves snuggling, purrs frequently, rarely misbehaves, puts up with me avoiding litter box duties, and gives me more affection and attention than I know what to do with most of the time. Beethoven is rarely more than a couple feet away from me, giving new meaning to the words “constant companion.”

All that said, I like dogs, too. Mostly I prefer big dogs, but I’ve met some smaller ones in the past few years that aren’t too yippy or hyper who have been pretty pleasant, too. I would have a golden retriever or a lab, but I am simply not capable of that whole letting them outside in the winter and picking up all the poop in the yard thing. My low maintenance kitty, who I can leave alone for a long weekend and not worry about, suits me – and the rest of the family – just fine.