Tell It To Me In Song

The Union family loves The Sound of Music. Dad in particular was always willing to pop on the nearly three hour film and sing wildly to each of the songs. Ellen and I wondered how old we were when we first watched it and I have one very distinct memory watching it while sitting on the floor in my parent's bedroom, eating popcorn from a holiday tin. I was six then and had already seen it many times. So we've realized Olivia is ready to be handed the tradition.

Throughout our 35 years as a family, it has not been uncommon for any of us to spontaneously belt out the songs from the film. Dad again, in particular, was commonly found speaking as Mother Abbess or even having a conversation as Maria and the head nun. Once when Mom announced that she had something to say to the whole family, Dad eagerly responded in a British accent requesting, "Tell it to me in song, Reverend Mother!" 
We've never stopped laughing about it.

So when Ellen saw that the Broadway folks are doing a Sound of Music national tour, the family group text had affirmatives all the way round. "Book the tickets!"

It was just the four of us - the original Unions. We went to a Turkish restaurant before the show. That's not important information but I'm leaving it here as part of the memory. We got to the performance hall, found our seats, and settled in to be delighted. Ellen assured us (Dad) ahead of time that people would be signing along, so we could definitely belt out our favorites. In front of us were a few middle-aged women. Behind us, a mother and child. To the left, just some more humans. I'll go ahead and tell you that by the time the show ended, our little foursome was an island. All the people near us had left at intermission and never come back. Was it the show? The seats? The 65 year old man that couldn't stop laughing?

The play was great - for the record. The singers were notably talented, the sets were beautiful, the Von Trapp kids - adorable. The crowd though, was stoic. They were not singing along. They were not bobbing in their seats. They were not anticipating the next line and delivering it a little too loudly. And then there was Dad. He was bouncing his legs, dancing with his hands, and becoming more and more amused by his enthusiasm in such polite company. And as anyone with a precious father can tell you, once they see that they're making their kids laugh, the ante will be upped. There's no stopping a dad bringing joy to his family. When Fraulein Maria was asked if she loves Captain Von Trapp, Dad answered a hiccupy sob of "Oh, I don't know!" just before the lead actress did. He didn't mean to say it as loudly as he did, so Ellen and I snotted out sudden laughs at the same time, none of which was appreciated by the people in front of us. 

Then came a favorite song, The Lonely Goatherd. We sing this while we play cards. We sing this to break the silence in long car rides. We sing this when we hear a sound that sounds even remotely like a yodel. Years ago, during a long car ride, I needed to go the bathroom but we were ages from an exit. I sang to distract myself and concocted a masterpiece to the tune of The Lonely Goatherd. A short sample:

Ho ho, get me to a bathroom.
Ho ho, I must do a job.
Yo ho, it will be a blowout!
She's walking like she's got a cob.

(Get her to the bathroom. 
Where's the nearest bathroom? 
Get her to that bathroom now!)

The stall on the right is the only one open.
Turn around, lock the door, drop your drawers!

Anyways, we all burst out laughing when that song started because we were all singing the bathroom version in our heads. We really tried not to be obnoxious but we couldn't help it. There was also some serious moment when Dad did something riotously funny - I can't remember now what is was - but Ellen, Dad and I were stifling our laughter to the point of tears and sweating, and holding our hands next to our faces so we couldn't see each other. When the scene ended and the audience cheered, I let out some blasting cackles just to relieve some pressure. Dad was shocked when they sang songs he'd never heard before, outraged when the changed the order of the songs ("They can't do that!"), and miffed as the audience held in their enthusiasm. After intermission we rearranged seats and put Dad down on Ellen's end so she'd have to babysit him for the back half. With Dad out of sight, it was much easier to focus on the play, though anytime I checked, his knees were bouncing and he was conducting the orchestra with his hands. 

I certainly can't speak for the people near us, but we all had a great time. 

Beloved simpletons.

A Chaotic Catch Up

Mom and Dad came home from an Adriatic excursion and immediately developed flu-like symptoms. Ellen got to see our folks when she picked them up from the airport but I went another week or so until Mom especially, felt like she was back to fighting weight. Dad still oozed around town despite his status as a super-spreader. Mostly they stayed home in their respective chairs and coughed and hacked and blew their noses. In the meantime, they adopted a dog I told them about - a cuddly and distinctly lazy bulldog with a bum leg - the perfect pet for them. Dad hustled over to the shelter to meet her, accosted one of our admin people, tried to adopt her on the spot despite her not yet being medically cleared, and then sent me to adopt her as soon as she was ready so that no one could snag her out from underneath him. And now that she's settled in to her new life of luxury, Dad claims he wasn't interested in getting a dog. 

They do really like her. Dad brings her around in the car with him, plays fetch with golf balls (she destroys anything soft), and lets her sleep in his chair with him despite not having enough room. She has stayed true to being cuddly and lazy but there was some unanticipated enthusiasm that she displayed upon arriving at her new home. Mom was especially concerned that a mistake had been made, though she was the first to accommodate the dog's desire to laze on the white couch that Ellen and I were not allowed to sit on until we were in our late twenties. Her name is Beans, and despite what my parents say about her, we can all tell they are wrapped around her little bum leg.

Today I received this picture with the caption "Beans in her new sweater!" because they read that breeds like hers can have a sensitivity to cold weather. But anyway, he didn't want a dog.

I don't know much about what goes on in Ellen's world because when you ask her "what's new?" she answers with an initial exasperated exhale followed by some mutterings of "just trying to survive." Other than hiding from her parental duties, I'm not sure what makes her happy these days. She and Lee are headed out for an Austrian excursion which does excite her to an intense extreme, while Lee is just happy for a vacation. Mom and Dad are watching the squirts while they are gone so everyone is both understandably stressed and excited.

I spent a Saturday with Ellen and the kids while Mom and Dad were out of town, because normally Ellen would entertain the kids by taking them to Mom and Dad to entertain them. On this day, we took them to swim lessons, the pumpkin patch, and the ice cream shop. The swim lessons were stressful to watch on account of having 15 floppy toddlers bobbing in a pool. Nick loves the water and charged into the pool with the careless abandon of a floppy toddler. Olivia is much discerning and knew to be afeared (as the Scots say) of the churning pool. Liv cried the whole time while Nick hung out underwater with his instructor. When it was over, Livvy chastised herself for being so fearful. 

These cares were promptly forgotten as we barreled on up the highway to the pumpkin patch. This was a real festival of affairs. There were food trucks, farm animals, obstacle courses, some dangling acrobats, face painting, tractor rides, a corn maze, candy and crap for sale, and finally, pumpkins. Right away Liv knew she wanted her face painted, but first they wanted to play. Ellen hustled the kids from activity to activity the same way she would "accomplish" the pumpkin patch. 

"Ok, you wanna go on a tractor ride? Let's go on a tractor ride!" So we would go on a tractor ride and once all of our feet were off the tractor, "You want to go pet the farm animals? Let's go!" So we ran to pet the farm animals. 

"Had enough yet? Let's go down the slide!" Bam, bam, bam. Checking off all the highlights as efficiently as possible. Her children don't mind - they probably know no differently, but I was terribly amused by the pace. I am now excited to find out if Nick and Liv will dart through the world like their mom does or if the frenzied rush will turn them into slow, intentional people that want to spend the time to mull over all the options. 

Once all the main attractions had been had, Ellen began the process of ending the fun and heading back to the car. "But I want to get my face painted!" Olivia said. 

"Me too," Nick added because he wants to do whatever Liv wants to do. Ellen thought for a minute and said "Ok, you two go get in line and we'll come find you." So Liv and I wandered off to find the face painter. She held my pinky in her tiny little hand while she chattered and mused. "I know exactly what I want painted on my face. Aunt Lu, have you ever had your face painted?" 

We found the booth and stood at the back of the line. It was not moving quickly. But Livvy didn't mind. She looked at the face paint options and selected her favorite. She was ready. Ellen and Nick finally joined us and I think Ellen stood in the line for about two minutes before she wanted to bail. 

"You know y'all, this line isn't moving. I think it's best if we do something else. Maybe head back home or get ice cream?" I gasped.

"But Liv's wanted her face painted the whole time! It's the only thing she's asked for!" Livyy held on to my finger and looked at her mama. Ellen glared back at me, shocked and amused that I would wait in this line, or rather, make her wait in it.

"Mama, I want to get the rainbow paint." Liv and I gave our best sad faces and Ellen shot daggers at me and said fine. "Which one do you want, Livvy?"

Liv went over to the board and pointed at the rainbow face paint that she loved the moment she set foot in the pumpkin patch. Of course, it was the most expensive option. $25. Ellen slowly turned her head and glared at me. "That's kind of expensive Livvy. Wouldn't you rather do the flowers or the sparkles?" These were $10.

"She wants the rainbow," I reminded her withholding my blasting cackle. Livvy nodded. 

"Ok," Ellen accepted defeat.

"I want the rainbow too!" Nick added. I laughed out loud while Ellen began stress laughing. 

"Oh Nicky, the rainbow is kind of girly. Let's do something else. Look at the black cat, oh, or the pumpkin!" These were $5 options. Then she glared at me and said, "I am not spending $50 on face paint!" 

In the end, Liv got her $25 rainbow paint, and Nick panicked after the purchase of a $5 black cat, so the girl painted it onto Ellen's face instead. 

Then we all went for ice cream (because Ellen foolishly mentioned it to get out of standing in line) and Liv said she loves me, so... I think it was a great day.

Two weeks later I babysat Ari and Nate's little one and she was so easy and quiet. I really only have Ellen's babies to compare her to, but it was shocking. This little one year old ate farro, hummus, cottage cheese and an egg for dinner. Then she held out her hands for me to wipe her fingers clean. After dinner, we walked around in the backyard with the dog, and then at bedtime, she laid there pleasantly while I changed her diaper, and then she held out her little arms and legs for her pajama onesie. I zipped her up, read her a story, and then plopped her into her crib where she sat quietly until deciding to lay down and fall asleep. 

It was all very Ari. She would have an adult baby. 

Speaking of which, Nate got a groovy job in Athens, so they are headed back to Georgia sometime next month. They have accepted an offer on their place and put one in on a house in Athens, so it's just a matter of time before they leave me. I'm sad to not get to watch Birdie grow up, and of course I feel lost in the world without Aribelle, but I'm excited about their excitement. 

Let's see, what else? The Big One and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary, Papa Clint fell down and broke his hip, and we went to two different halloween parties - one as pirates, the other as trailer park community members. The trailer park bit was assigned to us for a murder mystery party. I did not correctly guess who the murderer was but Brett's facial hair as 'Tyler Briggs' was much appreciated while my personification of 'Lila Monroe' was voted best performance. So. 

You didn't think I was going to blow past Clint's broken hip did you? He was minding his own business, closing his garage door when the string snapped and he threw himself to the ground with all the strength it takes to heave a broken garage door closed, and he managed to land just right to snap his hip. Clint says it's the most pain he's experienced - and he's broken lots of bones. We were all comforted that Maura happened to be on shift at the time and met the ambulance as Clint arrived.

While this was not life threatening, it's always icky to see your loved ones in a hospital bed. They had to try a number of pain medication concoctions before any of them kicked in. Poor Clint toughed it out - and still managed to carry on his political advocacy in the meantime. They finally put some hydrocodone in his IV and that knocked out all coherent conversation. Rest assured that he kept firing his Dad-jokes at the very patient nurses and made some wonderful comments about his open hospital gown. We left as they prepped him for surgery (all went well - they put in some pins) and made sure to shower him with books, snacks, and entertainment opportunities for his recovery. This was mostly unnecessary because Clint was too doped up to read and thought the hospital food was delicious. They moved him to a PT recovery ward where he stayed for about 10 days. Big Bubba Brett ('Bubble Bread' as the nephews call him) visited Clinch (as we call him) everyday until he got home again. Clint has a walker and a trio of grabbing sticks, but he's back up and moving at home.

(This inappropriately happy picture was Clint's request. He was a little high.)

In my next post, I'll give a self-focused report, unrelated photographs, and the grand retelling of our family date-night to see a live performance of Dad's favorite film, The Sound of Music.