Sixteen

I can't remember my sixteenth birthday.  Is that weird?  What girl doesn't remember their sweet sixteen, either for how great it was, or how awful it was instead of how great it was supposed to be?  Granted, that was 21 a few years ago, I have three kids, and I feel lucky that I remember to put shoes on some mornings, so I'm not entirely surprised.

I do have a strong memory from the day before my seventeenth birthday.  I was riding somewhere in the back seat of the car, "Jack and Diane" was playing on the radio, and I heard the lyrics "Hold on to sixteen as long as you can / Changes come around real soon / Make us women and men."  I smiled at the irony of hearing that line on that day, and then quickly went grim as the fear of that being true took over.  I had missed 364 days that I should have been holding on to sixteen, and here I was on the last day without ever even noticing that they had come and gone!

I suppose the next day wasn't any different than the day before, but the point had been made.  Now I am many years wiser and I can agree with Mellencamp (Cougar?  Not sure what he goes by these days) that there was a significant amount of change in the next sixteen years to follow.  Thank goodness.

*this post was inspired by the Wordpress Daily Prompt*

Hear Me Roar

Sometimes you just have to laugh.

Almost two weeks ago I started a little adventure in the hospital because the twins we are expecting tried to meet the world a little earlier than they should. Thankfully they have still not made their debut, and I hope to be waiting for many weeks until the time comes for them to join us.

On day one, I was transported from one hospital to another to be at a location with the appropriate nursery. At the time it was a very scary ordeal, but if you can find humor even in the face of terror, you might as well take advantage of a little bit of relief.

My ambulance ride was long enough that I had the opportunity to make several observations. First, I could never be an EMT. Never mind all the medical knowledge and skill you are expected to possess, I couldn't even handle being the guy who rides in the back and fills out the paperwork. I think most patients would frown upon the results of my car sickness. So, EMT-guy-in-the-back, I salute you, your inner-ear stability, and strong stomach.

Next, let's move on to the EMT ambulance driver in the front. You, sir, are awesome.  I know it was a small section of time, and there could be many explanations, but I have to admit, I was totally judging your personality based solely on your amazing music choices. Maybe you thought you were choosing what I would enjoy, but I'm pretty sure that was for you. I was mildly amused as we switched from one diva dance groove to the next. When you settled on Katy Perry singing Roar, there was no doubt in my mind you were up there lip-synching and head-bobbing, and it made me a little giggly. When we scanned the stations, landed again on Katy Perry's Roar, and listened to it once more from start to finish, you about sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter. In my mind's eye, you were no longer just lip-synching and head-bobbing, you were full-out celebrating and gettin' down as we flew down the expressway in our little dance floor on wheels. Thankfully I was able to keep it together, otherwise the steel-stomached guy in the back might have added a psychiatric evaluation to my paperwork.

I know that judging a book by its cover is wrong, but I just couldn't help myself. Blame the stress, the anxiety, the need for distraction, but that ride is one I will remember, even a little bit fondly, thanks to my Katy-loving EMT ambulance driver.

Jam on, sir. Jam on.

Pretty Music

I had never met my freshman college roommate before we lived in the dorm together.  She was awesome and had so many unique views on life that I still keep with me today.  She loved music.  She played the viola (called it her fiddle), enjoyed classical music, and also had a cd collection that ranged from Tori Amos to Korn, and a lot of everything in between.  But it was all "pretty music."  "I like pretty music," she would smile, whether her ears were ringing from headbanging or putting her viola back in her case.  It makes me grin just to type it.

This past weekend I got to go see some pretty music. One of my oldest friends surprised me with tickets to see an acoustic show by members of a band we have been fans of for almost 20 years, Marty and Wayne of Freddy Jones Band.  Acoustic music is one of my favorites.  Not just music that is meant to be played acoustically, but more so those songs that you get to know in a totally different style that sound brand new and amazing when you hear them with just a guitar and a voice.

The venue was small, and the kind that I have only seen on tv.  Small tables with candles, up close and personal, wine in a glass bigger than anything I own at home.  They sounded right on.  Interesting banter, some songs I knew, some that I didn't.  It was late (by my current standards, anyway), I was out, and I loved every minute.

Getting to that point took some planning, as all things do when you're a mom.  My son got to spend the night with his Aunt and Uncle, and while he is old enough that I no longer feel stressed about someone else taking care of him, I still had the general parental stress that just comes with the job when you hand over your child and hope they don't do something crazy.  Waking up without an alarm or a stuffed animal in my face, with the sun shining brightly in the room, was very, very strange.  But good strange.  And instead of being sad that the night out was over, I was charged up from the relaxation and enjoyment of the night and excited to go and see him again.  I also was pleasantly surprised that I felt no guilt for being out and spending me time.  That is new for me.  The night out came in the midst of a full weekend of various family activities, so that probably helped.  A little me time sandwiched in between a lot of non-me time.  Further proof that it is all about balance.  Too much of anything, except maybe chocolate, is never healthy.

I like pretty music.