Last week Zoe attended her first school skating party.
Of course, it was held at the major roller rink in town–home to roller-skating parties of her mother’s youth and site of every one of her mother’s high school dances.
Zoe had a blast.
I had to fight the urge to roll headlong into the girls’ bathroom, wipe my clammy hands on my stirrup pants, pop some Skittles, and check my permed bangs for any loss of height.
And, true to form, on my one time around the rink without Zoe, I was overzealous taking a corner and almost took out Emily who was gliding smoothly beside me.
It’s good to be a grown-up.
The happy rolling bunch.
So, I’m minding my own business at school this week. Merely walking down the hall, leaving a note on a kid’s locker and heading back to my office. Just a Guidance Counselor on a random Wednesday.
Then, out of the blue, here comes a kid strolling to his locker. He’s singing. Not some funky new jam that my 36-year-old ears can’t recognize, no, he’s singing all of the words to “Eye of the Tiger.” All about the cream of the fight and rising up to the challenge of a rival. The last known survivor was stalking it’s prey in the night all over again.
I’m deja vu-ing and not yet to my office when a girl comes strolling toward me wearing leg-warmers. She’s not headed to ballet class.
Last month it was the familiar “dong, dong…dong, dong” intro to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” that was coming from a hallway while some kids practiced for the stage show and Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” belted from the stage by a side-pony-tailed singer during the stage show promo. It was all I could do to maintain decorum and keep myself from singing along.
I know I’m working at my alma mater and can’t expect my own experience not to peek around the corner now and then but, come on, give a valley girl a break! I’m ready to turn into Bowling for Soup’s 1985 lady!
Never mind that “99 Red Balloons” is blaring through my house as I type.
Zoe and I have been playing Old Bachelor this morning. A card set with Mercer Mayer-esque drawings, the game surprised us with this card…
Mom, I think you should take this as a sign.
It has been ten years since Mark and I exchanged our vows.
The night of the rehearsal dinner, Mark’s friends took him out to the Sierra Room for cigars and drinks. They asked him, “what do you think Tash is doing right now?” Mark said, “She’s probably half-way to Chicago. I shouldn’t have given her the good car.”
My cold feet with getting married had nothing to do with Mark and me in 1998. It was the subsequent years I was worried about. Would we stay compatible for the long haul?
I needn’t have worried.
I haven’t been married to Mark for a decade. I’ve been married to a series of men who look quite a bit like him, but never quite the same.
Check out the gallery.
This is where we started:
And the man I’m married to now…
Through all our life changes, Mark has remained so dog-gone easy to love, I can’t imagine I ever had cold feet. Now me on the other hand…easy to love? I’m not so sure on that one.
Good thing he had the crappy car.