Slumber My Darling

I’ve been so busy with paperwork and busywork and pricing and sorting that I haven’t really had or taken the time to actually consider why we are doing this giant yard sale very much.  Or, I am cognizant of its purpose—to bring Charlie home—but I haven’t really sat with his absence very much.  When someone asks me how many kids I have I say three, but it is still foreign to me.  

This afternoon, while sorting and pricing the mountain of items that were cascading out of my home and down my stoop into my yard, our babysitter showed up and offered to take the kids to the park.  So I was alone in the house.  Knowing I was beyond stressed and that my own home was making me itchy from all the disorder, I pulled up the Yo Yo Ma station on Pandora. 

Folks, Yo Yo Ma is the antidote to stress.  Or maybe it’s just the cello.  Something about its low aching timbre grips my soul.  It is simultaneously melancholy and joyful; it is the music of the human condition.  I mentioned this on facebook and peeps began sharing their mutual love of Yo Yo Ma and the cello.  And then my friend Angie sent me this link: 

Something inside me broke.  Or maybe the song just wiggled loose the right pebble in the wall I’d built up around the agony of waiting for Charlie thereby letting a flood of ache pool around me.  

I am writing this through tears.  Not misty tears, but full on I am now congested and puffy eyed and out of breath tears.  My son is not in my arms.  Someone else will put him down tonight.  Will they kiss his head and tell him he is loved?  Will they rock him to sleep if he lets out a cry?  Will they stroke his hair until it is shiny and stuck to his forehead? 

I am his mother and he is not near.  He is unaware that while he is crowded in a room with a dozen other sick and waiting little boys, his mother is crying out for him in a language he has never heard. 

My darling Charlie, though your surroundings do not show it, know this: you are no longer an orphan, but a son.  Though I am not near you now, I am coming for you.  Soon—but not soon enough.

Together We're Unlimited

Tonight, for what I'm sure will not be one night only, the Phillips and Pusey cousins performed pretty much the entire show of Wicked.  With a little bit of Tom Sawyer thrown in for good measure.  At one point, my 5 year old niece Isabel was crying because she wanted to perform Popular as a solo.  Seriously, she was crying.  Her red lipstick smeared and painted for the back rows lashes running.  It was as though I was watching myself thirty years ago.  Except, of course, I made playbills and forced my parents to buy tickets to watch me dance in leotards in the living room. 

There would be more pictures, but you see, I was one of the headliners. 

"There's been some confusion
For you see, my roommate is: "

"Unusually and exceedingly peculiar
And altogether quite impossible to describe"

 

 "Blonde."

 

 

And the leading man?

It was pretty much the best thing ever.  My nephew Caleb was more than annoyed.  Which made it even more fun.Then there was some running around naked (by the 4 and under crowd).  Followed by an ice cream party.  

 

 

Raindrops on Roses

So I’m channeling my inner Barney Stinson mocking Oprah as I say….MYYYYY FAVORITE THINGS!!!!

Also, in this fantasy, I’m able to share with you, dear reader, the things I love most.

(Let it be noted that I said, things. Not people. It should go without saying that my most favoritetest of all favorites are Sloan, Henry, and Gracie. In fact, that’s a saying here in the Philips’ house. Sloan first said it to me when we were dating. “You’re my favorite.” “Favorite what?” I asked. “Favorite everything…” So if you hear me tell Henry he’s my favorite, rest assured, Gracie is my favorite too. And what’s my most favorite? Being theirs…)

So here, in no certain order, are my favorite things…

1. The entire works of David Sedaris.
Sure, he’s a bit crass. But he’s Southern, honest, and once worked as a Christmas elf. One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received was from my friend Rich who told me my writing reminded him of David Sedaris. And I received his new book for my birthday from Sloan. The inscription said, “He’s almost as funny as you…” Be still my heart.

2. Chick-Fil- A Spicy Chicken Sandwich with extra pickles.
If you ever tell me how many calories this has, I will kill you. But seriously, I love CFA. I love that it is all their pleasure, they have the only dipping sauces worth the risk of car spillage (Honey Mustard and Polynesian, please), family nights where Henry eats free, Peppermint Milk shakes (damn you! Laura with posting the calories on FB!), Purel wipes, and they are the only fast food restaurant to get that children need bendy straws.

3. The Jesus Storybook Bible, by Sally Lloyd-Jones.
Best children’s bible. Ever. Hands down. It has made me cry as it teaches my children and reminds me of God’s never ending, all rescuing, and unending love for us. I love it so much I asked that the money raised for Bethany from Grace’s birthday party be used to purchase these Bibles for the babies whose parents reinstate their parental rights. And props to the author who heard this and is working with the publisher to make this more feasible financially. My favorite is when it says at the end of the story of Noah’s ark in reference to the rainbow… “God’s strong anger against hate and sadness and death would come down once more—but not on his people, or his world. No. God’s war bow was not pointing down at his people. It was pointing up, into the heart of heaven.”
4. Motown
If you’ve been reading for awhile, then you’ve read about my love affair with Sam, Al, Diana, Lionel, Aretha, Gladys, Marvin, Smokey, Otis, and, in particular, a one Mr. Wonder. And, as of late,  Mr. Jerry Lawson and the Talk of the Town.

5. My DVR
It’s how Sloan and I can watch our shows together when he travels (and why I don’t get your Office references until Friday night). It’s how I always have a Thomas or Cat in the Hat episode on deck for the Pickle. It’s how I can watch last night’s The Sing Off finale whenever I want. (Who has two thumbs and had a Committed +Boys II Men Dance party this morning with her kids? Bob Kelso. No, I mean, me!)

6. Diet Dr. Pepper
The best part of waking up is DDP in my cup.

7. Wi-Fi and all things wireless
Because sometimes the only time a Momma gets to be alone with her internet is when she is on the potty and sometimes that’s also the only time she gets to print out that recipe for Crock Pot Beef Bourguignon.

8. The Crock Pot and my rice cooker
I’m not a super huge fan of cooking. Mainly, it’s the 5 o’clock “Oh! Crap! I’m the Mom and am supposed to be feeding these people” scramble that gets me. Enter the crock pot. Add meat. Add some type of liquid…soup, beer, wine, broth, all of the above, some spices. Enjoy aroma all afternoon. Then, help Henry pour some brown rice and water into the rice maker. Press button. Empty bag salad into bowl. BAM! Homecooked meal, y’all!

9. Bacon
To borrow a phrase from my high school friend Katie, simply put, Bacon is meat candy. Bacon, a team of doctors, Al Roker, and Ellen DeGeneres saved Henry’s life. If you think this is over reaching, I commend you to read the first several months of this blog. I kid you not, pork belly saved us all. And continues to do so…

10. My house…it’s a very very very fine house.
I love our big front porch and circular driveway. Even if they are littered with buckets, trucks, bikes, balls, and dirty shoes. I love my foyer and stairwell and how they are covered with photos ranging from my parents when my dad was in the army, to our honeymoon, to the four of us dressed up for Halloween. I love that my guest bathroom has all of our diplomas, baptism certificates, honor fraternity certificates, and random hunting licenses. I love my new lipstick red kitchen with its big, deep, farm sink. I love my living room that is wall to wall books. I love that there is a corner in the living room stocked with kids books and a big fluffy orange kid chair that Henry and Gracie fight over. I love that my family room and dining room are mirror images of one another in terms of paint color. In my family room hang two of my decopage paintings and in the dining room is an arrangement of all of the silver platters my Grandmother Johnson gave me over the years. I love Henry’s blue transportation room and Gracie’s pink and green birdy room. I love that everywhere I turn in my house I see those whom I love so dearly and there is not a place that isn’t kid proof. It’s not a museum. It’s a nest; a cocoon; a small picture of what I imagine heaven to be— a place where PJs are worn well past breakfast, shoes are optional, and there’s always a good tune on the stereo.

Do you like Sweet Jams?

Unless you grew up with me, there are things about me you do not know.  I have skills.  And by that I mean that I can make a mean mix tape and a mean magazine cut out collage.  The collage thing has blossomed into some self-proclaimed awesome decopage art presently hanging in my house and a bunch of chic picture frames.  My best work, however, was the 3 x 5 foot collage that hung in my college apartment and now presides in the closet of my childhood bedroom.  Should you ever find yourself needing a thoughtful ransom note, I'm your girl.

And the mix tape mastery has evolved into some singularly sensational playlists.  Building a good playlist, like most of the good things in life, requires strategy, momentum, and an editing eye.  You have to suppress the desire to lead off with your favorite songs.  You have to leave some of the best for the end.  You have to think, particularly when building a party playlist, what will people be doing right now?  Is this good mingle music?  At what point when folks be relaxed enough to really get their groove on?  And you also have to find awesome tunes to breathe to.  It can't all be Jamiraquai and Madonna.  You have to throw in some Slowtown (you know, easy Motown) to let people hold hands, grab another drink, and what not.

Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, I give you Gracie's Birthday Party Playlist.  (It is quickly becoming a favorite here in the Phillips house.  Many of the songs are the songs we like to jam and sing to.  Some of them just fit with how we feel about G and the One who gave her to us.  Also, please note, that some of the songs were by Henry's request.  These will be denoted by an asterisk.  And yes, it is Stevie heavy.  We like it that way.  He is the Phillips family patron saint of 'Get Your Groove On'.)

The G. Love Party Experience
I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch), Four Tops
3 Rs, Jack Johnson
Sweet Heaven When I Die, Blue Dogs
I Get Around, The Beach Boys
Signed, Sealed, Delivered, Stevie Wonder
Lucky, Jason Mraz
Beat It, Michael Jackson
Upside Down, Jack Johnson*
Celebration, Kool & the Gang
Just Dance, Lady Gaga
Mess Around, Ray Charles*
I'm So Glad You're Mine, Al Green
Isn't She Lovely, Stevie Wonder (Which causes Henry to excitedly yell, "Gwacie, Gwacie! It's your Stevie Thunder Song!  It's Your Song!)
Ain't Too Proud to Beg, The Temptations
Africa, Toto
Beautiful Day, U2
Brown Eyed Girl, Van Morrison
I Was Made to Love Her, Stevie Wonder
Rescue Me, Fontella Bass
Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it), Beyonce
Sweetest Thing, U2
Saturday in the Park, Chicago
Put On Your Sunday Clothes, The Cast from Hello! Dolly* (Known as the Wall-E song around here...)
The Sharing Song, Jack Johnson
I'll Go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight, U2
You Make My Dreams, Hall & Oates* (I have no way to explain this other than Ipod shuffle and Henry's liking of the Ooh Ooh part)
Jungle Boogie, Kool & the Gang
Overjoyed, Stevie Wonder
Reach Out I'll Be There, Four Tops*
Let's Stay Together, Al Green
Baby's Got Sauce, G. Love & Special Sauce
For Once in My Life, Stevie Wonder
I'm Yours, Jason Mraz
Do You Believe in Magic, Lovin' Spoonful
Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye (Which Henry calls "The mountain song")
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Original Cast Recording*
My Girl, The Temptations
Magnificent, U2

Dr. Funkenstein

A.  Sorry that this video has horrible lighting.  I was literally backed up against our laundry room door frame.  I was more concerned about catching the moment than I was about lighting.  Oh well.
B.  Yes.  We were having a Parliament dance party.  We also dance to the Black Eyed Peas and Lady Gaga.  We just are very selective about which songs. And if you can find me better dance songs than Alive or Let's Dance than I'll give you a dollar.
C.  I'm really freakin' loud...

Without further ado, here she is in all her WALKING glory...

Magnificent

So last Thursday night, Sloan and I headed to Charlottesville for the U2 concert. For Sloan, this was his third U2 concert. I was a U2 virgin. In truth, I adore seeing live music. I am thinking of making it one of my hobbies. But also, I tend to enjoy smaller venues that give me the sense that maybe in between sets, the band might let me up on stage to sing. The U2 concert did not disappoint. In fact, I have decided that when (okay, IF) I become a rock star, I will have a stage similar to the the U2 360 stage. But I also will have a jet pack and fly over the crowd. I got this idea from the movie Space Chimps. Sloan has informed me that the King of Pop, MJ, already did this. Yes, but I'm a girl--so it will be totally different.

Before I tell you about U2, I must first give you a little context. For starters, we told our nephews that we'd get them Tshirts if they paid us back. The tshirts were $40. $40, people! Am I that old that I think this is ridiculous? Particularly when they sell online for $30? I justified my waiting in line for the shirts by thinking that Bono is probably buying food and meds for people with AIDS in Africa. I don't know if this is true, but please, if it is not, don't tell me. Because I bought the tshirts. I mean, it's Bono, right? It sounds like something he'd do.

Concerts, in addition to being a great way to see bands, are also great venues for people watching. And you'd think that with it being Charlottesville and all that it would be the wine and cheese crowd. And certainly the golf clappers were in attendance. We just didn't sit near any of them. In front of us were these women who looked just like I imagine Montessori School teachers in the 1970s appeared. Tapered jeans, homemade sweaters, no make up, and long frizzy hair down to their butts. What made it even better was that these women rocked out! And I mean rocked out to the opening band MUSE. (Who the soccer mom sitting next to me generously looked up for me on her Blackberry). Teacher 1 was standing up, waving her arms around, and yelling. To MUSE. Oddly enough, when U2 came on, she stuck her fingers in her ears, saying it was too loud. "Um, well, it is a rock concert, M'am," I said. But the craziest thing about Teacher 1 was her hair brush. She must have brushed her hair at least 30 times during the concert. I counted how many times she brushed it during the hour interim between MUSE and U2--11 times. Is it just me or is this weird?

And MUSE, by the way, proves the point that even if you have messed up teeth, you can still throw on a shiny shirt and look hot so long as you know how to play an instrument. (Their bassist grew on me. He's sort of a Spanish Jeremy Piven. And their drummer is so Rupert Grint. Post Swine flu. And nothing says "Awesome!" better than a skinny Ron Weasley on the skins.)

And of course, there was the point during the concert where everyone in our section starting sniffing and wondering who it was that just lit up a doobie.

Also, at one point, I looked at Sloan and started laughing hysterically because I was convinced that our section had a mime in front of it. I thought, "This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen at a concert." But no, it wasn't a mime. It was a sign language interpreter. In my defense, she was wearing a black hoodie, black pants, and had on white gloves. But still, that's a bit out of the ordinary right?

So this was the context in which Bono, Larry, the Edge, and Adam would wow me. (Or, as I like to call them in Elizabethtown--Paul, Larry, David, and Adam). The set was amazing. This sort of honeycombed TV thing at the top of it that would move and get larger. A disco ball (which makes EVERYTHING better). Over a dozen manned spotlights. And they truly were in 360. We sat behind the stage and did not feel like we missed out at all. At one point, I thought I would've liked to have been down on the floor with some of my buddies--but then I remembered they had no seats, no way to put down their coats, and, of course, no mime or brush lady. (Of course, they DID have Bono ten feet away.)

Definitively, the U2 concert affirmed to me something that I've always believed--there is no such thing as a distinction between the secular and the spiritual. Everything, be it your favorite TV show or song, has a spiritual message in it. Because we are spiritual beings, we have no other way to communicate, whether we intend to or not.

What has always struck me most about U2 is their intentionality. The fact that as celebrities, I know what matters to them--fighting injustice, feeding the poor, being kind. In Christian circles, it is always debated about whether or not Bono is a Christian. He cusses on TV and the like. But of course, as my Pastor's son has pointed out, a lot of times he's drunk when he's dropping f-bombs, so you can't really count that. And I get that what we say does matter. But in my denomination, we have a catechism that can basically be summed up by its first question--"What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and enjoy Him forever." And people, never before have I witnessed this being fleshed out on such a large scale and by so many people. I was overwhelmed by it at the concert. I'd close my eyes and then would have to remember, wait, you can close your eyes and feel it on your Ipod, watch Bono as he bears his soul and cries out to God, "How long must I sing this song?" Or perhaps as he leads the stadium in singing "Amazing Grace" during the first encore.

I was struck by not only was it Bono singing these words, it was the entire Scott stadium. I wondered, do these people know they are singing scripture? That Sunday Bloody Sunday is essentially a prayer to God to deliver us from sin? That Bono and the boys are pissed off about the very things that God hates. And that yes, some of their music could be considered love songs, but I think Bono would agree that even the greatest human loves are shadows of our greatest Lover. That being said, I do often wonder if sometimes the other band members are like my friends after I've had too may drinks--we get it! we get it! God is good and injustice is bad. And to the Edge I say, dude, what do you wear to the beach?

So if you still believe that there is such a thing as "secular"--I leave you with the words of U2.

Magnificent

Oh, oh, magnificent

I was born, I was born

To be with you in this space and time

After that and ever after

I haven't had a clue only to break rhyme

This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue, oh, oh

Only love, only love can leave such a mark

But only love, only love can heal such a scar

I was born, I was born to sing for you

I didn't have a choice but to lift you up

And sing whatever song you wanted me to

I give you back my voice from the womb

My first cry, it was a joyful noise, oh, oh

Only love, only love can leave such a mark

But only love, only love can heal such a scar

Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh

Magnificent, magnificent, oh, oh

Only love, only love can leave such a mark

But only love, only love unites our hearts

Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh

Magnificent, magnificent, magnificent