blog
i use my words
"We all like full disclosure particularly if it includes the admission of one's 1) mortality and 2) propensity to fail. (Related, but not the same.)" (-Dave Eggers in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius)
What's the hardest for you to fully disclose?
Talk amongst yourselves.
(I won't have time to chime in until Monday night, but I can't wait to hear your thoughts on all this. Wondering where I am? Check this out.)
I'm pretty excited right now. As I type, Niel's on a flight to America. I'm sure he's cramped up in his tiny seat, jamming his knees into the back of the poor soul sitting in front of him. I imagine he's enjoyed (?!) at least one Pepto-necessitating airplane meal and climbed over his neighbor at least once to use the way-too-small bathroom. I bet he's watched a movie or two, slept a bit, and sorted out 1/4 of the world's problems in his brain (he's just amazing that way). He's most likely looking at his watch right about now, counting down the hours till he exits that flying tube of steel. Did I mention that the flight from Johannesburg to New York is 17 hours long? It is.
But that's not why I'm excited.
I'm smiling so big my eyes close because I'm going to surprise Niel when he lands in New York tomorrow morning. He's catching a flight out to Orlando just a few hours later, but I'll get to steal a quick kiss (maybe a not-so-quick kiss) and a long hug (that's the best part right there...).
There's a long story behind the "why", but the short of it is that there are 7 Thrive Trippers on the flight with Niel. Because they took off from South Africa almost 3 hours late, the kids will miss their domestic connections. They've been rebooked on later flights out of a different airport. So I'm going to meet their flight, make out with my husband, shuttle 7 kids I've never met before across the city to LaGuardia ("Hi, I'm Alece! What's your names?"), get them checked in and through security, catch a cab back to JFK, and then drive back to Long Island.
And all this starts with my alarm going off at 6 AM.
Seeing Niel makes that totally worth it. And if you knew how much of a morning person I am not, you'd know what a big deal that is for me.
The bestest part? Since all of this was arranged after Niel boarded the flight 7 hours ago, he has no idea about the excitement that is going to unfold at 9:00 tomorrow morning.
I wanna bring Niel some tangible love. Considering I can only bring things I can find around my house, what do you propose I bring for him?
I don't at all want to steal from the laugh-till-I-cry comment conversation going on over on my uncensored post. (And in case you missed it, here's the anti-blogger's blog-length response to the post.) But, I did want to let you know that tomorrow is my husband's birthday. And since tomorrow is already today in South Africa, I figured I should let you know today rather than tomorrow. (Confused? Me, too.)
Basically, I just want to send you over to Niel's non-blog so you can leave him some anti-birthday love.
So go here and say "Hey!"
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My tonsils, strong-willed enough to deserve names, are now (un)affectionately referred to as Cheech and Chong.
I'm with Silas and still-pregnant Amy at Tot Time at a local rec center. The gymnasium is filled with toys; Silas loves to come here. One wall is lined with bleachers where moms set up camp to watch their kiddos play. Diaper bags, purses, strollers, and shoes litter the rows of bleachers. While Silas is having a good ol' time out on the gym floor, Amy and I are chatting it up on the sidelines (with watchful eyes, of course).
Something in the far corner of the gym catches our eye. An older woman---whom we shall call Fiona---enters alone; she brings no kids, only herself, to Tot Time. Fiona sets up a boombox, flips through a notebook, and stretches out her arms and legs. She hits play on her stereo and cranks up the volume; we can hear the rhythmic music loud and clear on our side of the gym.
Fiona begins an intensive aerobic workout. She's got a whole routine, complete with claps, spins, and stomps. We can't help but stare, and we definitely can't help but laugh. We look down the row of bleachers; most of the other moms are watching and giggling too.
With the change of each song, Fiona turns to a new page in her notebook. Suddenly she is doing belly-dancing moves. We double over with painful laughter.
We just can't imagine why Fiona chose to use the Tot Time gym for her ostentatious workout. "This is a blog post waiting to be written," Amy says with a laugh. "I wish I had my camera!" I reply. Then I remember that I have a camera phone. Of course it has only minimal zoom...
I'm gonna have to get pretty close if I want a decent picture. So I'm off... And I'm on a mission.
Needing a decoy, I say to Silas, "Wanna go bounce that big green ball with Aunt Lizzy?" Of course he does. He heads across the gym, me close behind with my phone in my back pocket. I bounce the big ball; Silas chases after it and bounces it back. We inch closer to Fiona.
I'm only a few feet away. Fiona is facing the wall, with her back toward me. She starts shaking her butt as if she's Beyoncé. I about pee my pants with laughter. I look back to the bleachers to see Amy wiping tears from her eyes. SNAP. I take a picture. I'm laughing so hard, it comes out blurry. SNAP. I take another.
Silas and I keep playing with the big ball, carefully staying in Fiona's quadrant. In an attempt to roll the ball to me, Silas accidentally sends it right toward Fiona. I run after it, looking up at her as I go. Still facing the wall, Fiona spreads her arms out at her sides, leans slowly forward and backward, and shakes her boobs.
The ball rolls right into her leg and she turns around and faces me. Busted! I think. "Sorry about that," is what actually comes out of my mouth.
I look down at Silas, who'd also run forward to catch the ball. He stops two feet away from Fiona, looking up at her. He sways and moves his arms. "Dancing," he says. "That's right," she replies. "You can dance with me if you'd like." Silas stands right next to her and together they get their groove on.
If I weren't hunched over laughing, that picture would be worth a million bucks.
I look back at Amy again; the bleachers are shaking because she's laughing so hard.
Just as quickly, Silas loses interest and runs over to me. Fiona doesn't skip a beat; she jumps right back into her routine. I put up my hand as Silas approaches, and he gives me a high-five.
I get the feeling that he was in on this mission of mine all along...
