MUSIC.......#3 on my list of loves.

Other than God and my family (past and present), nothing bring me more joy that listening to music.

I grew up in a home where music was a constant. Either someone was playing it (piano or guitar) or someone was listening to it (Mom-dancing and singing in the kitchen, Dad-Sunday nights, lying on the living room floor, siblings- radio all day and long into the night). It was an ever-present force in my life. Even in a time when nothing, or no one, could reach me, it still found a way to touch my soul. It inspires me to move, boogie, dance, sing, laugh, cry or.....sometimes I simply sit still and absorb an array of feelings I can't explain. It's amazing.

Today I was warped back in time to some of my earliest childhood memories. Back to the days of reel-to-reel (It's like a movie reel but for music) and record players. Back to Xanadu. I don't remember the movie well (in fact, do I even remember it at all?) but I can tell you exactly what our record sleeve looked like. And the music.....oh, the music. My heart pitter-patters at the very thought of it. "I'm Alive," a song from that soundtrack, jumped to the forefront of my mind this morning. I had........I mean, HAD to hear it. (Thank you I-tunes......I love you.....I REALLY love you).

I succeeded and I bought it.....that's right, just like that. Now, while this behavior is not all that unusual as of late ( I can now justify these types of purchases because I use them in my aerobics classes....and believe me, I'm so gunna' use this one), I don't usually do it on Sunday (the whole "shop" thing and "Sunday appropriate" music thing). Well, today I defied all rules. I listened to it and I listened to it and I listened to it again.......and again.......and again and the strangest thing happened. My heart, my soul, my ever living being was filled with so much ...... happiness? ..... joy? ......(I really CAN'T explain it) and basked in it.

".....Men (and women) are that they might have joy." 2 Nephi 2:25

I count myself justified.



Now.....I don't know if you noticed the "playlist" now added to the blog. I have protested these for a long time. (Background: I really, actually, find it quite annoying when I am blog stalking, while the kids are taking naps or in bed, and I pop onto someone's blog and this random music starts blaring from my speakers (because my kids have been playing with them) and then the kids wake up and start screaming.....etc. (No offense to anyone who has one....it really is just my fault for not checking the speakers first). But I couldn't keep from doing it after today.

In light of my new career (teaching aerobics) I find myself listening to A LOT of music (if you have no idea what "career" I am talking about, visit my other blog at www.melanielovesdinner.blogspot.com ). Although it does get a bit tiring sometimes (I find myself counting BPM's (beats ber minute) all day long, and in my sleep, to the point that I CRAVE silence), I have never been more inspired in my life. I have found so many long-forgotten "treasures" and revisited so many memories from my childhood that I just had to share them with y'all.

I hope you find as much true enjoyment from these songs as I do. Dance.....go ahead.......do it, even if you are at work (Andrew, what would your co-workers have to say about that?). Let the music take you wherever it may. But...Don't forget....you must listen to "I'm Alive" IN IT'S ENTIRETY before leaving here today.

Many of you won't appreciate it but........my family will. Come.....THIS IS FOR YOU, GUYS! Take a walk with me down memory lane. I LOVE YOU, I MISS YOU!

(Now......the playlist DOES NOT start on it's own so you have to hit play in the top left hand corner.)

"You're a stranger"

Today I took the kids to the park with some friends, the Farr's, to play. There was this lady there, with her own child (at least he called her "mom" but she looked like she could be his grandma.....anyway). For some reason the kids were gravitating towards her (could it be that she was actually playing with her child while Amy and I were sitting on a bench talking....who knows?). So....all in all, she seemed like a nice lady. There were no worries about her actually harming the children (We would have been more worried if it had been a man who was there without children. Do you know what I mean?) but we were still concerned about our children talking to and interacting with people they don't know. One by one we called them over and talked about "Stranger Danger" but they did not seem to be catching on. They would just go right back and play with her. After several attempts to thwart Gabe's behavior, I called him over once again.

"Gabe, do you know that lady?"

"No."

"That's right. She is a stranger. Do we talk and play with strangers?"

"NO....but she doesn't really look like a stranger."

"Gabe, not all strangers look like bad guys." (Gabe thinks someone is not a stranger unless they look evil...like a pirate or something)

"Okay"

"You and Noah need to go find something else to do instead of playing with her. Okay?"

"Okay"

Gabe runs towards Noah (who was playing tag with the lady and her son) and yells at the top of his lungs.

"Noah.......Noah."

Then to the lady,

"Hey....you're a stranger. We can't play with you or We're not supposed to talk to you." (something like that)

It actually wouldn't have been so bad if he had said it to her on his own and not directly after leaving my side.

I was a little embarrassed but then I realized that if some kid said that to me....I would totally understand and I hope she did too. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad but unfortunately, that's just how things have to be.

Oh well....better safe than sorry.

A boy, a girl, and a football jersey (aka Melanie's most regrettable blunder)

I love fall. LOVE IT. Something about the smell, the drop off in hot weather (not like we have HAD any really hot weather this year to speak of), school starting, and yes, FOOTBALL. It's not that I am a HUGE football fan I just love to see my husband get so excited for it (although it is a little bitter sweet for him now that he doesn't play anymore). His enthusiasm rubs off on me and we enjoy watching games together, which always brings me back to the college days. The first days of Rob and Melanie. And then......the story of the white football jersey. It is such a happy story. I wish I could say the same for the ending......no, no, don't worry.....the boy does get the girl.......and then the girl.......gets......I mean, really GETS the jersey (Whi, Whi, Whi, Whi....imagine the shrilling sounds from one of Alfred Hitchcock's films, I think it’s Psycho).

There once was a girl named Melanie who fell madly in love with a "hot" football player named Rob. He sat in front of her in Spanish and, although she was dating someone else, found herself smitten by his charm. She vowed, to her roommates, that one day she would marry him. All she had to do now was convince him of her love. (Let's face it.....Rob was pretty dense back then. Girls flocked to him and he didn't even notice. I have never flirted so shamelessly before.....and believe me.....that is saying A LOT).

Each day Melanie would come home from class and sit at the front window of her apartment (which happened to be located across from the field where the football players practiced). She would happily gaze out at the field (I'll admit it......I love football pants and the wonders they do for a nicely shaped backside) and dream of her beloved Rob, even though she did not know which player he was. This all changed one day, when his helmet came off. She had finally found him in a sea of white jerseys (Rob has just tried to bleach his hair blond and it had turned a flaming orange....lucky for me)......and #45 was never far from her sight or mind again.

A week or so later, Melanie returned from country swing dancing (that's right....laugh it up) to discover something lying on her bed. It was football jersey #45. It had been ripped down one side (oh no....was her beloved Rob hurt?) and a note was attached. It read,

Dear Melanie,

I love you. I have always loved you. Will you marry me?

Love, #45

Melanie knew this could not be real, even though her heart longed for it (I mean.....we had only know each other for a few weeks and no one writing a love note would have signed it #45 instead of using their own name....seriously). She was broken hearted that someone would play such a cruel joke on her. Who was it? She wanted answers. She needed answers. She set off to investigate.

After much tribulation and, still more heartache, she discovered the truth.

The boys that lived downstairs from her (who knew she sat day after day watching #45 from her window) happened upon it, just lying on the ground, while walking across the practice field on their way home earlier that evening. They couldn't believe it. What were the chances?

They plotted their evil plan and waited for the girls in apartment "B" to leave for the night. They wrote the note, broke into the apartment, through a side window, and put the note on Melanie's bed.

They confessed immediately upon questioning, without conscience.

Melanie was furious. She returned the jersey to the villains and fled to her bedroom. They did not give up on their cruelty that easily. Once again, they returned it to her. So instead of playing a game of tag.....Melanie had an idea.

"Yes.....that will do”, she thought, as she tacked the jersey up to the front of the apartment building (That's right......the apartment building directly across the street from the practice field).

The next day, Melanie went to class with a brilliant idea.

Melanie (boldly): "Hey Rob, what is your football jersey doing on the front of my house?"

Rob (looking confused): "My jersey? I don't know? What do you mean?"

Melanie: "I mean, your jersey is hanging on the front of my apartment building. #45, right? How did it get there? Did you put it there?"

Rob (even more confused): "NO! I don't know how it got there. It got ripped off of me in practice yesterday. I gave it to one of the managers (who was this really cute girl Rob had a crush on......too bad she was too tall for him). She took it. I haven't seen it since."

Melanie (smiling inside....her plan was working): "Well, it's there. I guess you will see it at practice today."

And sure enough, at practice that fine day, Rob did, indeed, see the jersey. In fact, the whole team saw the jersey and began their inquiries.

"Rob, how did your jersey get over there?" "I thought it was destroyed yesterday." "Ow Ow Rob....way to go," etc, etc, etc.

A few days later, who should show up at Snow College, but Rob's parents. They had come to watch Rob play in the Homecoming Game and were all astonishment when, walking to the stadium, Rob points to the Stadium View Apartments and says,

"See that jersey.....yeah, it's mine."

"How did it get there?"

"I don't know."

"Well, do you know anyone who lives there?"

"Yeah, this really cool girl in my Spanish class lives there. Her name is Melanie."

Thus ended the conversation about Melanie ……but not for long.

Within a few weeks Rob and Melanie were dating.

The jersey had been retired from the front of the apartment building and after several washings (including a two day long soak in a garbage can of bleach water) it was lovingly stitched back together and hung on the wall in Melanie's room. This treasure of hers soon became the centerpiece of what was known as the "Shrine De Rob" (there was a sign and everything).

A year and a half later, Rob and Melanie were married. Melanie knew it would happen and the #45 jersey was the means that brought them together.

So as you see, the boy got the girl (or should I say the girl got the boy) and things ended Happily Ever After..............actually, not so much (I'm not talking about the marriage....that's happy....of course.......but about the jersey.....not so happy........man, I suck).

Four years of marriage, two kids, and two moves had taught Melanie that life was simpler without clutter, no matter what that clutter may be. As preparations unfolded for move #3, Melanie decided a bit of de-cluttering was in order and when Melanie gets going......she doesn't stop for anything.

The jersey......YES! THE #45 Jersey vanished.....and has not been seen since. Melanie can not believe that she would have been so uncaring and unfeeling to have banished it from the house but, alas, Rob vows that she did (seriously, we kept some of Rob's practice jerseys from high school. Why would I have gotten rid of the white #45 and kept those?). How could she be so un-sentimental as to do such a thing? As time goes by she holds on to the hope that it will turn up somewhere. In a forgotten box, or suitcase perhaps (even though we have moved twice since then)?

So, every fall (and many, many other times during the year), Melanie is reminded of the fate of the jersey and wonders: oh where, oh where can that jersey have gone. Oh where, oh where can it be?

If anyone out there is ever wandering in this woeful world and comes across a white #45 jersey (blue numbers and gold outlining) that has a large, lovingly mended rip up one side, several small holes, several blood stains (that still did not come all the way out even after the bleach soaking), and smells like a locker room, please.....oh, please return it to it's rightful owner. It longs to be home and Melanie and Rob long to be reunited with it.

(Hey Steph, Tressa, Jessica or Leslie if you have pictures of the "Shrine De Rob" I NEED one. Alas, that may be all I will ever have).

Look Mama, I's in KINDI-GARTEN!

So...It's official. Gabe is now technically in school and will be for the next 13 years (he has been in preschool for 1 1/2 years but this is different). YEAY! I could not be happier (well, I guess I could. I wish kindergarten was ALL day....sigh). One down...... ??????? more to go!

Doesn't he look happy.





Gabe has been ready and waiting for this day to come since May. No tears were shed on either side as I left him in his classroom. "Bye Mom", was all that I got......and frankly, all that I needed.

Don't get me wrong. I love my child but I am so grateful that he is secure enough to be independent. Way to go Gabe.

All in all, it would have been the perfect day........if Gabe hadn't gotten lost. That's right....I said LOST. How does a one get lost at school, you ask? Well, it seems it's not so hard for child who tends to find himself in that situation more often than not.

During Gabe's orientation meeting we were told that half of the class would be busing and there were a record number of "parent pick-ups" (17). The routine would be to have the class line up, bused kids in the front and parent pick-ups in the back, and that the teacher's priority would be to get the kids on their correct buses first. Then the rest of the class would group together and wait for parents to arrive. I kind of had a gloom and doom feeling about that. Now I know why. Like I said, Gabe has a tendency to not only wander (in and out of lines) but to be quite distracted when instructions are given. Because of this I gave him careful warning about staying in line and following the teacher outside....no matter what..... so when Gabe got in the car and said that he had gotten lost.......I felt all panicky inside (but totally played it cool with him).

This is the story I got. He and Mikah (a cute little girl he sits by) were left in the classroom all by themselves. He said that the teacher called for all the bused kids to get in line and he and Mikah were the only ones not going on the bus so they stayed in the classroom while the teacher took the rest of the kids outside. He said that after a few minutes, Mikah's sister came and got her and then he was all alone. He waited a few more minutes and nobody came. So.......he decided to go outside, by himself, and find his teacher. "Don't worry Mom.....I found her."

Then began the interrogation.

Me: "Why did you stay in the classroom?"

Gabe: "Only the bused kids went with the teacher" "Mikah and me were the only ones waiting for our parents."

Me: "Gabe.....there were a ton of kids whose parents were supposed to pick them up...Where were they?"

Gabe: "NO....Mikah and I are the only ones. Everyone else goes on the bus."

Me:"Did your teacher tell you to line up?"

Gabe: "NO."

Me: "Did she tell you to stay in the class room?"

Gabe: "No."

Me: "Why did you go outside by yourself?"

Gabe: "Because I waited and nobody came"

You can imagine the flames coming out of my ears. Who is at fault here?.........I am almost positive the teacher would not leave children in the class by themselves.......Or would she?..........Oh, Gabe....why did you not listen?.........I swear she must have told them to line up too and typical Gabe, he didn't pay any attention to her.......What should I do?........Should I yell and scream at him?.......Should I yell and scream at her?...........What am I going to do?......What?.......What?

I ended up e-mailing her and, without accusing her of neglect, told her of my concerns (after acknowledging Gabe's tendency to wonder off and be in la-la land while instructions are being handed out). It turns out that a parent was in the room to help and they were supposed to follow up at the end of the line. She said that things were crazy (as they always are on the first day of school) and she totally apologized for dropping the ball. She said that today she will have another parent there and will keep a closer eye on Gabe until he learns the routine.

So.....do I trust either of them (Gabe or his teacher)?

I don't think so.

I am leaving in a few minutes to go to the school (1/2 hour early) so that I can watch for myself how things are handled.

I may not cry about being parted from my child for only a few hours of the day but I would hate to think about him being lost forever (unless it was a day like yesterday......then, and only then, do I fantasize about it.......for just a bit........SIGH!).

I think if I drank......I would be an alcoholic!

I think if I drank I would most likely be drunk by 9AM and stay that way until bedtime.

It's just been one of those days.

So..........it's probably a good think I don't (drink, that is).