"Mom will you sing 'Morningtown Train' tonight?" she asks as we eat dinner.
"Oh, Boo, you know I can't. That song is too long and David climbs all over me and ruins it for us," I say.
Anna nods, dejectedly.
"How about...'Goodnight, My Someone'?" she asks, hopefully.
"Okay," I relent. "But only the first verse. You two need to get to bed."
I will stand next to the bed and sing. Stand, when I used to sit. I used to hold her long and stroke her hair and sing and sing and sing. We used to sing "Morningtown Train" and we'd lay on the bed and rock like we were on a train, her softly saying "chugga, chugga, chugga" under her breath between the choruses.
And then when it was over, she'd pretend to be asleep, and I'd pull the covers up over her and kiss her and wish her beautiful dreams. But not anymore. Now it's a hasty song, by the side of the bed. I quickly smooth her hair and kiss her cheek, reminding her that I love her. I don't dare touch her longer, or hold her close much or David will attack.
I am datable. I mean, I am really, really datable.
At least, in my mind I am. I haven't actually tried to apply this principle, you understand. It's more like a theory right now. But seriously, I have a whole list of reasons why I'd date the hell out of myself, if I were an eligible guy between thirty-five and dead.
Yes, that's my age range. I ain't gettin' any younger, y'know.
We begin today's Epic Two Hour Episode(TM) in Arendelle, where the Snow Queen is seen hiding the Disney Hat of Death(TM) in an extremely shallow hole in the ground (apparently, the hat has no effect on groundhogs) and freezing it over for good measure.
She seeks out the Sorcerer, talks to his apprentice and offers him a deal: find me a magical blonde baby and you'll get your hat back. She makes the deal by uttering her words (as usual) in a smiling, creepy deadpan, three words at a time. It's like Christopher Walken and Julie Andrews had a demon-possessed child or something everytime she's on the screen, I swear.The apprentice thinks that kidnapping a baby is do-able, but she may have to wait a while for a magical one, in a land where every third person and anyone born of true love has magic. Well. Okay, then.
It was 2010, and Thanksgiving was fast approaching. For the first time in all my life, I was going to be spending Thanksgiving alone. Thanksgiving, once I became a married woman, was always about my husband's family. We didn't live anywhere near mine, so we always traveled on the holiday, catching up with his side of the family. I never did mind that - I adored my in-laws and still do.
When my husband left and we began the long, arduous process of going from "we" to "me", we agreed to split the holidays in an equitable fashion, but I insisted he keep Thanksgiving all to himself. The kids always loved to visit their aunts, uncles and cousins, and I wasn't going to take that away from them, particularly when it was only going to be the three of us and neither of my kids cared for turkey.
So I signed up with a temp service in town to work over black Friday weekend - it made some badly needed extra money for Christmas and it kept me from sitting around feeling sorry for myself. The holiday was looming, and the last thing I wanted to do was make my kids feel terrible that Mom was going to be all alone. Even if Mom did feel terrible. And believe me, I did.