Stephanie Says.. Take a walk inside my head

I was watching “True Women” the other week on The Hallmark Movie Channel…aka my new obsession.  It was about the women who settled Texas in the 1800’s and Dana Delany’s character Sarah said something that caught my ear.

“I don’t believe that our loved ones make our lives”, she told her sister Euphemia, “but loving them does”. 

I wanted to stop the movie right then and there and meditate on that.

Three weeks later, I still belive that is true.  I could tell you about my brother and how my relationship with him turned parts of my childhood into days of uncontrollable rolls of laughter.  I could tell you about my realization that my parents are *surprise* real people with preferences and opinions unrelated to their children and how neat it is when we get together with them and our best couple friends for birthday parties.  I could tell you about my first intense high school love and how I thought I would die when graduation was over.

I could, but I won’t.  I might later on, but tonight we’re playing with pictures, so I’m going to tell you two stories.  Both happened this summer and both involve people  without whom my life would be much less rich if they were not in it.

The first happened on my birthday.  My birthday is in the middle of the summer and, though I’m in my thirties, I still act like a preschooler when it rolls around.  I love my birthday.  I love company and, though it sounds selfish, I love having people pay attention to me.

I just didn’t know how well they were paying attention until this year.  See, as you may have noticed from my “about” section, one of the things I want is a swimming pool.  This, of course, is the fault of having been born in the eighties and watching Albert Finney as Daddy Warbucks swimming in a pool that was “down the stairs” (and if you don’t know that song, you must learn it as soon as possible).  “Swimming pool, swimming pool, swimming pool” is top of my list of things that I want.

So, this summer, my best friend Jennifer, and her husband, Ben (class clown of our group if ever there was one), decided to play Genie and make that wish come true.  When Kenny and I came home from work that night, there it was.  A six foot kiddie pool smack in the middle of our living room.  Complete with floatie.  It had taken an hour for them to fill the thing up with water and it was the best birthday present/practical joke anyone has ever presented me with.  The best part was that they signed the guest book that I make everyone inscribe when they come to visit us.  “Ha Ha!” Jennifer wrote.  “Ha Ha” indeed.

 

I love you too guys.  I’m so glad God put you into our lives. 

Jennifer is my best friend.  Kenny is the love of my life.  Logically, we shouldn’t be together.  I’m an emotional, slightly nutty semi writer who is much more into herself than anyone has the right to be.  He’s a fully grown, able to handle anything professor of Computing who often wishes I would tone it down a notch…or two…or three.

Despite these obvious differences, however (I grew up singing “Papa Don’t Preach” at random inappropriate times; Kenny’s parents were depression babies who listened to Lawrence Welk and Herb Alpert and who probably considered Madonna far below the standard of “real music”), we’ve been together for thirteen years and married ten.

Kenny had a hard time adjusting to my family, at first.  We’re loud (by Sims standards).  We rarely sit still.  We hug every time we come into a room and we pass up no opportunity to break into song.  Poor Kenny has spent years wondering what planet he landed on.

Until Catherine.  Catherine is my two year old niece who is way too intellegent to be only a toddler.  She’s like Kenny in that she can be reserved and can sit and observe all the activity around her without feeling the need to join in.  Catherine will be the one of us to write a tell all book should we develop a tendancy toward deep dark secrets.

Anyway, this summer, sometime after the swimming pool surprise, Catherine found herself alone in a room with my husband.  As you can surmise, Kenny has limited exposure to children.  Not by choice, it’s just that he doesn’t give off the “caretaker” vibe all that often.  Still, for whatever reason, Catherine Grace adores him.  That afternoon, she surprised him by climbing into his lap and handing him a book.  When my mom and I came back in the house, we huddled into the kitchen and gossiped about the two of them like a bunch of highschoolers in the ladies’ room.

For those of you who don’t know my husband, this picture will mean nothing.  To me, however, it’s a reminder of why loving the people I do makes my life what it is.  It’s a preview of when we have our own little girl and the kind of tender attention even logical professors are capable of giving if you catch them at the right moment.

Happy Holidays everyone.  I hope they are full of love.  I know mine sure are.