I climbed a tree yesterday. Two of them, in fact.
I should probably preface this by saying I don't climb much of anything but stairs as a general rule. My sole childhood experience with tree climbing consisted of hauling myself up into the only one in our neighborhood that wasn't too short and scrubby to hold a fourth-grader, and then screaming for twenty minutes because there was a lizard on the trunk of it and I wouldn't go past the thing (it was a whole three inches long) to get back to the ground until someone went to get my mom. Yeah, I was a chicken -- still am, in a lot of ways.
My daughter is not. She's five, and she's spunky and sassy (both traits I adore unless they're being channeled into her impression of a teenager and directed at me) and she loves to climb anything. So when we went to Maymont yesterday and darling hubby promised her a tree to climb, we listened to 25 minutes of "that tree? How about that one?" while we walked across the grounds to the ones he was looking for.
They were the most fabulous climbing trees I've ever seen. Monstrous miracles of nature and time, they stood probably 50 yards apart, an oak and a pine, both with several thick, side-growing branches that hung low enough to the ground for even my toddler son to climb up onto.
My daughter's face broke into a grin usually reserved for Cinderella Castle at Disney World and she took off for the oak at a dead run. I watched her with the proud smile of a mom who loves that her child is rushing headlong into an activity that she herself always feared. Monkey number one is not afraid of anything. She hopped easily from branch to branch until she was standing over my head, far enough off the ground to make me a little nervous.
She grinned at me. "See, mommy? It's not scary. It's fun!"
Monkey number two agreed, giggling and "whoa!"-ing as hubby helped him around the lowest branches.
I watched the two of them for a few minutes and decided it was time for me to face my fears. It helped that I didn't see any lizards.
It wasn't as scary as I thought. Not scary at all, in fact. I laughed and chased my little ones and posed for photos with them and generally had a perfect autumn afternoon.
Grownups are supposed to be responsible. We go to work, pay the bills, keep the toilets clean and the laundry done -- but it's easy to get so bogged down in the mundane everyday details of keeping a family running that you fail to appreciate said family.
Take a minute to ignore the forest of things on your "to-do" list and see the trees through a child's eyes. Leave the laundry. Go outside. Jump rope, skip, play hopscotch -- or climb a tree if you've got one. It'll put a smile on your face that won't fade -- even when you get back inside to find that the cat has barfed in the laundry basket.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I'm sorry ... they're selling WHAT?
Thinking too hard about how long my wonderful husband and I have been ensconced in wedded bliss makes me feel old these days, and since most of my friends are also half of a happily married couple, I thought my days of all things bridal had passed.
Given this, I was excited last week when a young friend invited me to join her at the Richmond Bridal Show. It sounded like fun, and I had my own experience and that of all the girlfriends I have served as bridesmaid for to draw upon when steering her toward things that are worth a chunk of your wedding budget and away from those that are decidedly not.
I got married in North Central Texas in 2001, and everyone knows everything is bigger in Texas. Our bridal shows lasted all weekend, and the booths went on for what seemed like miles in the exhibit halls. I remember seeing photographers, venues, caterers, bands, DJs, bakers, travel agents, dress shops ... you know ... bridal show vendor-type businesses.
We arrived at the Richmond Bridal Show Sunday, the only day of the show, right as it was opening, and hit a line that would have done Disney proud to get in the door. There will be no shortage of nuptials in the greater Richmond area this year, I assure you.
We talked about the things she wanted to look for as we waited in line. Like every other bride I have ever known, the biggest concern was the dress. "I hope they have actual dresses that real people would wear in the fashion show," she said. "I don't want to just see the far out stuff the designers do in the runway shows."
I offered my sage advice on things you should splurge for. "Pay a videographer," I warned. "We didn't want to spend the money on it, so Justin set up our camera in the back of the church. Eight years later he still won't tell me which one of his idiot friends was supposed to turn it on, but whoever it was, they didn't. I don't remember most of the ceremony, and I have no video. If I could do it again, I would definitely spend the money on that."
We bought our tickets and proceeded to the door, where she was sent one way to fill out entry forms and get a "bride to be" pin, and I wandered into the first few booths in the front of the hall.
It all looked pretty familiar at the front doors, even nearly a decade later -- photographers displayed their best work, dress shops competed for "brightest bridesmaid dress on display," and the tuxedo shops tried to see who could have the biggest gimmick to get the brides to pay attention to them. I saw a flying coupon booth and a wheel of formalwear fortune.
Every once in a while we even saw a groom, looking bored if he wasn't eating something, and we wondered how these women had gotten their intended to go to a bridal show.
We also had a great lunch for $10 -- gourmet tapas, fabulous cake, and lots of chocolate. Those caterers do know their audience.
About halfway through the hall, I decided I want to get married again ... this time with a videographer (lesson learned), a digital photographer who can make me a really great coffee table book with hundreds of fabulous candid pictures, amazing satin-wrapped invitations with a genius pocket design for reply cards and inserts, a strapless dress (I have the arms and shoulders for it now that I was sorely lacking 8 years ago), and a chocolate fountain.
Yep -- a chocolate fountain. Am I the only person who had not seen one of these? It is just as it sounds, and the caterers were only too happy to let us try sticking berries, marshmallows, and pretzels into the flow. This may be the best invention of the 21st century. Can I do it over if I want to keep the same guy?
There were travel agencies hawking honeymoons from the Andes to Tahiti, a car dealer cleverly advertising the cash back on an adorable red convertible as "$1200 cash toward your wedding costs," and the occassional odd duck, like the Brinks Home Security people.
And then we rounded the corner halfway back down the middle aisle, and there they were.
A plastic surgeon's office. With a booth. At a bridal show.
"Look, mom!" an adorable twentysomething girl with an adorable figure chirped excitedly. "They said I could look better in my dress if I get breast implants and maybe a little liposuction."
I stared, mouth agape, at this very pretty girl.
"You can get married looking like someone else!" my friend murmured. "Oh, my."
Oh, my, indeed. As we walked, we saw three more plastic surgeons set up trying to reel in business from prospective brides. I think I can truly say this is the lowest form of preying on women's insecurity I have ever seen. Every woman wants to be beautiful on her wedding day, but to stand in a convention hall and pitch to anyone that the nose God gave her is not good enough for her wedding photos is ... appalling. If they just wait a few years and a couple of kids, many of these same women will find themselves in my shoes and be looking for a good doctor to make their tummies look like they did on their wedding day. Or, in my case, better than it did on my wedding day. But that's another story.
We walked around the hall for a couple more hours, and every now and again I caught a snippet of conversation in which financing for bigger boobs or a smaller nose was being discussed. Every time, it took every ounce of self control not to shout at the blushing bride that her boobs and nose were fine.
It made me think, a little sadly, of the world where my beautiful daughter will one day be a bride. Nine years ago they didn't even have plastic surgeons at bridal shows in Dallas -- the breast implant capital of the South. So what will they be up to 20 years from now? Portable operating rooms right there at the convention center, maybe?
I was sorely tempted to approach one of the tables, but thought it best to stay away lest we get thrown out because the crazy married lady socked a nip/tuck surgeon in the nose. Looking on the bright side ... at least they'd know where to go to get it fixed.
Given this, I was excited last week when a young friend invited me to join her at the Richmond Bridal Show. It sounded like fun, and I had my own experience and that of all the girlfriends I have served as bridesmaid for to draw upon when steering her toward things that are worth a chunk of your wedding budget and away from those that are decidedly not.
I got married in North Central Texas in 2001, and everyone knows everything is bigger in Texas. Our bridal shows lasted all weekend, and the booths went on for what seemed like miles in the exhibit halls. I remember seeing photographers, venues, caterers, bands, DJs, bakers, travel agents, dress shops ... you know ... bridal show vendor-type businesses.
We arrived at the Richmond Bridal Show Sunday, the only day of the show, right as it was opening, and hit a line that would have done Disney proud to get in the door. There will be no shortage of nuptials in the greater Richmond area this year, I assure you.
We talked about the things she wanted to look for as we waited in line. Like every other bride I have ever known, the biggest concern was the dress. "I hope they have actual dresses that real people would wear in the fashion show," she said. "I don't want to just see the far out stuff the designers do in the runway shows."
I offered my sage advice on things you should splurge for. "Pay a videographer," I warned. "We didn't want to spend the money on it, so Justin set up our camera in the back of the church. Eight years later he still won't tell me which one of his idiot friends was supposed to turn it on, but whoever it was, they didn't. I don't remember most of the ceremony, and I have no video. If I could do it again, I would definitely spend the money on that."
We bought our tickets and proceeded to the door, where she was sent one way to fill out entry forms and get a "bride to be" pin, and I wandered into the first few booths in the front of the hall.
It all looked pretty familiar at the front doors, even nearly a decade later -- photographers displayed their best work, dress shops competed for "brightest bridesmaid dress on display," and the tuxedo shops tried to see who could have the biggest gimmick to get the brides to pay attention to them. I saw a flying coupon booth and a wheel of formalwear fortune.
Every once in a while we even saw a groom, looking bored if he wasn't eating something, and we wondered how these women had gotten their intended to go to a bridal show.
We also had a great lunch for $10 -- gourmet tapas, fabulous cake, and lots of chocolate. Those caterers do know their audience.
About halfway through the hall, I decided I want to get married again ... this time with a videographer (lesson learned), a digital photographer who can make me a really great coffee table book with hundreds of fabulous candid pictures, amazing satin-wrapped invitations with a genius pocket design for reply cards and inserts, a strapless dress (I have the arms and shoulders for it now that I was sorely lacking 8 years ago), and a chocolate fountain.
Yep -- a chocolate fountain. Am I the only person who had not seen one of these? It is just as it sounds, and the caterers were only too happy to let us try sticking berries, marshmallows, and pretzels into the flow. This may be the best invention of the 21st century. Can I do it over if I want to keep the same guy?
There were travel agencies hawking honeymoons from the Andes to Tahiti, a car dealer cleverly advertising the cash back on an adorable red convertible as "$1200 cash toward your wedding costs," and the occassional odd duck, like the Brinks Home Security people.
And then we rounded the corner halfway back down the middle aisle, and there they were.
A plastic surgeon's office. With a booth. At a bridal show.
"Look, mom!" an adorable twentysomething girl with an adorable figure chirped excitedly. "They said I could look better in my dress if I get breast implants and maybe a little liposuction."
I stared, mouth agape, at this very pretty girl.
"You can get married looking like someone else!" my friend murmured. "Oh, my."
Oh, my, indeed. As we walked, we saw three more plastic surgeons set up trying to reel in business from prospective brides. I think I can truly say this is the lowest form of preying on women's insecurity I have ever seen. Every woman wants to be beautiful on her wedding day, but to stand in a convention hall and pitch to anyone that the nose God gave her is not good enough for her wedding photos is ... appalling. If they just wait a few years and a couple of kids, many of these same women will find themselves in my shoes and be looking for a good doctor to make their tummies look like they did on their wedding day. Or, in my case, better than it did on my wedding day. But that's another story.
We walked around the hall for a couple more hours, and every now and again I caught a snippet of conversation in which financing for bigger boobs or a smaller nose was being discussed. Every time, it took every ounce of self control not to shout at the blushing bride that her boobs and nose were fine.
It made me think, a little sadly, of the world where my beautiful daughter will one day be a bride. Nine years ago they didn't even have plastic surgeons at bridal shows in Dallas -- the breast implant capital of the South. So what will they be up to 20 years from now? Portable operating rooms right there at the convention center, maybe?
I was sorely tempted to approach one of the tables, but thought it best to stay away lest we get thrown out because the crazy married lady socked a nip/tuck surgeon in the nose. Looking on the bright side ... at least they'd know where to go to get it fixed.
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