SEVEN Was My Favorite Year

Today is Charlotte's Birthday. I look back on her 7 years and it seems like it all happened SO FAST. A blink and she's a baby, another and she's a toddler and another - she's lost her two front teeth. Where did the time go? Along with Charlotte's teeth, I think the Tooth Fairy may have taken her youth and it makes me sad that she is this mature little girl.

It's fun to have a child you can really talk to and laugh with...but why did it happen SO FAST?

What I want to know is, where is this little baby who came out of my belly kicking and screaming from the minute she laid eyes on this crazy world of ours? The baby who couldn't stand to be in her car seat or hated to sleep in her crib? I am not joking when I tell you this - this sweet little 7 year old without her two front teeth SCREAMED at us from morning until night.

"GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!! I AM MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING. I JUST KNOW IT!!!!"

I can't tell you how many moments were spent in front of the TV with the channel 939: DANCE CLUB MUSIC - at all hours of the day and night. This little girl wanted to MOVE - constantly! Does it surprise you that this same MOVE JUNKIE became a dancer and athlete? The baby swing and Johnny Jump Up, changed our lives!!!!

But again, I ask....Where is this little girl that said "Mommy? I don't deblieve it? " and "Daddy? I just want to BELAX!". Or on her 1st birthday when looking at her beautiful, tiny, personal sized birthday cake (that her "Acha" spent hours making) and screwing up her face while saying "Yutty!"

Our little Charlotte has grown up. Sniff Sniff!

I made a comment to her teacher that seven is such a big year because that is when they learn to do one of the hardest things in their young life: READ. It is one of the biggest milestones! The last one for us was potty training at 2 years old. Her teacher said that Grades 1 - 2 are when the students LEARN TO READ. Grades 3 - 5 are when they READ TO LEARN. I never thought of that before. Now Charlotte is reading entire books to us. She still needs help with some of the words, but I can't believe we went from struggling to get through 2 grueling pages (kill me NOW!) to reading an entire Dr. Seuss book.

Again....time is passing by really quickly and it's making me nervous.

For Charlotte's 7th birthday party, she chose to have a Pajama Party. We were not quite ready for a REAL sleepover, so instead we rented our neighborhood clubhouse to have a MOCK PJ party.

This is Charlotte with her cousin Meg (striped PJ's) and Molly (night gown) dancing before the party began. All three girls LOVE to dance. They come from a long line of great dancers!






My sister and I did manicures and we watched "Camp Rock" on the big screen TV. Every girl brought their sleeping bag, pillow and favorite stuffed animal. The room looked so beautiful with our colorful campsite! We had a roaring fire, cheese puffs, popcorn, pizza and juice boxes. It was a relaxing party (such nice girls) and the girls had such a great time!




And now, one week later, IT'S CHARLOTTE'S BIRTHDAY. We had a really special day! We woke up and cuddled in bed - mommy, daddy, Madison (the kitty), Freddie (the dog) and Charlotte. We went to breakfast and then went to a neighbor's house to see Georgia being creamed by Georgia Tech. After the game, we went home (I took a nap - YAY!) and then we played 2 rounds of Charlotte's new game "Clue".


We asked where Charlotte wanted to go to dinner and she said she wished we could go "out of town" to see the big buildings. We decided to jump in the car and go into Atlanta. We drove through Centennial Park (which was lit up with all the Christmas Lights) and all through the streets of downtown Atlanta. We finally ended up at "Savage Pizza" in Little Five Points and, THIS is interesting....it was the same Pizza place that we told Pete's parents we were pregnant with Charlotte. So, it was a cool choice of restaurants.

7, so far, is a fun age. Clothes and hair have become a BIG DEAL, we have graduated to Y-7 TV shows and talking has become Charlotte's new past time. She really cannot stop talking and "The Quiet Game" is a complete waste of time. This is nothing new to ME because I was the same way.

But, 7 is also a sweet age - wanting to be independent, but yet still wanting your mommy. In September, I drove Charlotte and two friends to her Fall Festival. They were so cute in the car, but I don't think I have EVER heard Charlotte talk like she did that night. "Oh My gosh, that is SO AWESOME!"

What????

But then, five seconds later, she is holding my hand and resting her head on my arm as we wait to get Cotton Candy. I just LOVE THAT!!!!

I dread the age where Charlotte is embarrassed to be around me. It will completely and totally crush me. Did I do this to my mother? I want to be Charlotte's MOST favorite person ALWAYS!

I remember back when I was 8 years old. I picked my favorite number. I decided on 7 because it was my BEST year. I picked 7 because it was my most favorite time in my life. Yes, 7 is still a GREAT YEAR.

Can we stay 7 FOREVER????!!!!

Press Pause

I recently posted a question on Facebook to my friends. It was "If you could pause a time in your life, what time would that be"

My answer was....

It would be the summer before my grandparents died. I was 13 and my sister was 9. We were all staying at this old hotel on Virginia Beach, called the "Avamere". The type of place where you dressed for dinner and have the same Waitress (yes, they said WAITRESS back then) and have drinks on the front porch at sunset.

To explain why we stayed at this wonderful hotel, we must go back in time a little bit....

When my mother was a little girl, she and her family would stay at "The Sinclair" which was a cottage type hotel located next to the big, beautiful, historic "Avamere Hotel". My Great Aunt Abby was a Hostess at the Avamere when she was a teenager.

My grandparents rented a place at The Sinclair every year and they would stay for a week. The McComb Family owned the hotel and during her summers at Virginia Beach, my mom's boyfriend was the owner's son, Jack. Her name is Diane, isn't that funny? She told me recently that she knows that hotel like the back of her hand and can instantly call up images of every single room. She recently told me that her most vivid memory was walking between the Avamere and the Sinclair hotels. The sand was mushy from the dripping window air conditioners and you could feel them softly blowing air when you past them. But the most amazing part, was the smell of baking bread, from the Avamere kitchen. Every sense was heightened, walking through those two hotels, on the way to the beach.

By the time I was born, The Sinclair was gone. My Aunt and Uncle stayed at the Avamere for several summers and in the summer of 1982, after my grandfather had a stroke, we decided that was where we would come for our family vacation. It was important to go back to the place where my mother's family enjoyed their summers.

I remember that vacation so clearly. We met my grandparents, my Uncle Allen, Aunt Nancy and our 3 year old cousin, Whitney. We had magical days on the beach and nights on the front porch in rocking chairs watching people walk on the boardwalk. Before going down to the dining hall, we would meet in my grandparent's room for a pre-dinner visit with drinks and snacks. I remember we had Frito Lay Cheese Balls in the can and Corn Chips. Of course, I WOULD remember the food we ate.

I remember one night leaning close to my grandfather and holding his hand. I knew that he was not well and it worried me. I felt like if I just stayed there on that porch, holding him tight, he would never leave me.

That was the last time I saw him.

"The Avamere" and "The Sinclair" were a part of my family's history and it meant so much to my mom's family that she and my uncle decided to spread the ashes of my grandparents in the ocean in front of those great hotels.

Here are some pictures of those two places to bring you back.....

http://www.vbgov.com/sites/libraries/history/hotels_avamere.html

http://flickr.com/photos/craige/2575437022/

The Avamere

On the Ocean at 26^th Street - Virginia Beach

by Edith Schermerhorn

The Avamere was one of several cottage inns and beachfront hotels established by the Leggett sisters who migrated from

Scotland Neck, North Carolina, to Virginia Beach after World War I. Lena Leggett Smith opened the hotel in 1935. Originally an

18 room cottage, the building was expanded three times to a maximum of 55 rooms.

Mrs. Smith named the Avamere after another family owned hotel, the Avalon, and “mere”, which means sea. After her

death in 1971, her son, Clarence Smith, Jr., inherited the property. With his wife, Peggy, and later their daughter, Bonner, the family continued to maintain a decades old tradition of offering its guests the “Modified American Plan” which was a room and two meals a day.

Best remembered by generations of family guests for its old fashioned hospitality and tasty Southern cooking, the Smith’s Avamere refused to succumb to the usual expectations of the modern tourist with the exception of an in-ground pool which was added just a few years before it’s demolition in the spring of 1994. A year later, its next door sibling, the Halifax, the last of a breed of the old beachfront hotels, also returned to dust.

MORNING SICKNESS - THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

I work for a dance school in Buckhead. Every year, for our children's recital, I play a different character and my story line ties all of the themed dances together. My character also adds a little adult humor for our parents to enjoy.

One year, I played "Mother Goose" while I was 3 months pregnant with Charlotte. I was extremely sick with morning sickness and had to perform during four different shows that day - EACH an hour long. I would go onstage, completely disheveled, say my lines, make thousands of mistakes and drop props all over the stage..... and then go throw up. Needless to say, I was not the hit of the show THAT year.

A couple of times I even blacked out - but THE SHOW MUST GO ON. I had throw up in my wig and I smelled like HELL from it. The young dancers back stage didn't understand why Mother Goose was lying on the floor. "What's wrong with that lady?" " Why is she so sweaty?" It was AWFUL!!!!!!!! I was so embarrased with my performance that year.

Oh-h-h-h, I have so many throw up stories during my pregnacy.

One big part of my morning sickness was that I simply couldn't bare certain smells. The first month, I made Pete completely sanitize the freezer and scrub down the fireplace. I didn't like THOSE smells. I smile when I think of him down on his hands and knees scrubbing his heart out with clorox and ajax.

The very worst smell was GARLIC.

I could smell it on people's breath, 10 miles away and I even smelled it in car exhaust for some reason. One time, a girl gave me a hug and I smelled garlic. I gagged like crazy during our embrace and quietly threw up in my mouth. I was so embarresed and just nodded when she asked me a question. I quickly dashed to the bathroom and got rid of it - and then threw up some more because I had throw up in my mouth.

I threw up so much during my pregnancy that I lost 30 pounds and broke millions of blood vessels around my eyes. I would not say that I was a glowing pregnant woman.

One horrible time, Pete and I had just been to the doctor at Piedmont and we stopped by "Harry's In A Hurry" to get some fresh fruit and a salad to take back to my office. The only food I could tolerate was FRESH, COLD food. I rolled down the window to get some air and of course I smelled garlic. I started gagging immediatly and Pete quickly grabbed the "Harry's In A Hurry Bag" with all of our fresh items and I threw up all over it. I was out of control and couldn't stop, and now Pete was gagging from watching me throw up. So he pulled in behind Fellini's in this big parking lot. I got out and continued to throw up on the road and Pete is barfing out his side of the car. This made me laugh so hard and the force of the gagging and laughing caused me to start peeing on the ground (thank God I have a skirt on so I could just aim for the asphalt). There were a lot of people milling around back behind the restaurants and stores and all they could see was a combination barf-arama, laugh-fest and pee-athon. It was so funny and I was SO nasty after that.

I also threw up in the produce section of Walmart. I quickly grabbed a plastic bag and threw my guts up next to the Fresh Georgia Peaches. This stupid kid kept looking at me (he was probably scared to death) and I said, "What??? Stop looking at me!". Then I heard a voice over in the deli section. It said, "Sugar, you just throw up all you want. How far along are ya? Four months? Oh honey I was sick my entire pregnancy with all three of my kids. I know how your feelin". So I walked around Wal Mart with a bag of throw up until I could finally find a trash can.

I also threw up in my car several times. The final time, I was so sick of getting my clothes dirty, so I tried to aim for the passenger side floor mat. I had perfect aim and only swerved into the other lane about 3 times. I got to the Studio, washed off my floor mat, squirted a little windex on the stain (windex is miraculous for throw up), popped some gum in my mouth and went into work.

Dispite my sickness, I never missed one day of work while pregnant. The medal ceremony will be at 1:00pm tommorow!

Cough Like No One Is Watching

I am sitting here laughing because I remembered a day when I had a coughing fit.

Don't you hate when you get to the end of your cold and you have that annoying post nasal drip? It starts as a tickle and then it completely grabs your throat until you are forced to do manic coughing for 15 minutes.

One day, I was leaving a very important message for one of our parents at the dance school, where I work. We had been playing phone tag for days and I was so tired of holding the information and longed to just dump it on their answering machine. So I called them and started leaving a very detailed, long message about their child.

In the middle of it, the tickle started. I decided to ignore it and just swallow. If I could just get enough moisture in my throat, I could some how quell the cough. Well, that was not going to work and I started panicking.

As I was leaving this very detailed message, my mind started to drift to the thought of "What if I have a coughing fit on the answering machine? I am not going to be able to stop!" And...instead of saying what I needed to say, I started to go off task and said words that had nothing to do with their child. "So, I think Sally is going to need to come in and try on her tickle...wait, did I just say tickle? I meant to say, choke, I mean leotard."

And then it happend.....I had a full blown coughing attack where you cough so hard it sounds like your lung fell out on your desk. So, on this answering machine, you hear me say, in a gasping voice, "Hold on....." and I put down the phone and proceed to cough for what seemed like 10,000 years. In the middle of it, I try to get out "I'm gonna have to call you back" (kind of like when Mike Meyer's says "I'm Feeling Verclempt" on Coffee Talk?). What a treat it will be for that parent to come home, notice they have a message and press the play button.

If that is not bad enough, after I get my honey-lemon cough drop and drink a gallon of water, I call this person back and try to pick up where I left off.

And that is when I start remembering how ridiculous I sounded and I start to giggle. I keep saying, "I'm sorry, I just can't believe you heard me coughing like that" and then I compose my self only to fall apart again the minute I start talking. Then, I am laughing so hard that I have to put the phone down. I even pee a little bit in my pants. It's is so out of control that I can't even get the words out. I actually say to them, "I'm gonna have to call you back again".

Oh, my God! This person has to listen to two messages of me either laughing or coughing - and you know you can't take these messages back!

I make a third call and apologize for all of my outbursts and end up rambling on too long and make it even worse than coughing or laughing. I am the biggest dork known to man.

And I run this place? You've got to be kidding?

WORDS ON LOVE

Ok, now I want to talk about LOVE. What do I love?

If you asked my mother, she would say I loved everything.
I am her “flower child” because I am always saying “I love that” or “I love…a certain person, food, song, outfit or season”.
You name it, “I LOVE IT”But what do I REALLY love?
More than anything in life?


I guess I could give my first answer, which would be my husband Pete, my daughter Charlotte or my wonderful family.
But that would not be as exciting to you as my second love: MUSIC.

Music has been the backdrop of my life since the day I was born.
I had no choice in this. I was destined to become a HUGE music lover.
At my house, music was always playing. On Saturday mornings, I would wake up listening to my Dad’s music. Sometimes it would be Three Dog Night, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Chicago, other times it would be Carol King, Cat Stevens and John Denver.
He had a HUGE record collection that I secretly coveted and would someday cart off to college.
My dad also sings and plays ukulele. I have such fond memories of family reunions and parties where the sing along would begin after dinner and go long after my bedtime. When my mom kissed me goodnight, I would go sit next to the air vent and listen to their beautiful voices, rich with harmony, climbing up to my bedroom. The final song was always “Good Night Ladies”. My parents had no idea that during these singing sessions, a spark was lit and my life would never be the same.

My grandmother also loved music. I can see us now, sitting in her car, singing at the top of our lungs. This was what we did when we were together. Can you believe that she would actually reach into her huge pocket book, take out her harmonica and play it while we drove down the street singing “When The Saints Go Marching In”? Now, how did she do that?

Singing became a refuge for me as I went through the difficult adolescent years. There is nothing like going into your room, turning on your favorite song and singing your heart out. My secret dream was to become a famous singer like Linda Rondstadt. My aunt Frances also had part in molding my future in singing. She taught me how to harmonize and it became my hobby to make up different harmony parts to songs on the radio.

In high school I put these harmonies in action by joining the chorus and eventually madrigal singers. There were moments when I was so moved by the music and our flawless harmonies between soprano, alto, tenor and bass that I would break down crying. You may think I am a little dramatic – but that is what music does to me, it brings me to my knees. If I hear a children’s choir or Kermit the Frog singing “Rainbow Connection”, you are going to see some tears.I realized the amazing feeling of singing for an audience when performing in my college Spring Musicals. There were moments onstage when everything just clicked: the orchestra was in time with our golden voices and the night was simply magic.

And now I ask myself, why do I love music so much? I love music because it builds bridges between people and makes lasting friendships. It makes a party come alive. It is the soundtrack playing in the background of our lives and the songs soars and swells the moment we fall in love, the instant we say “I do” and the second we see our beautiful child’s face for the very first time. As Pablo Casals writes: “Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart”. Now enough about me…what do YOU love?

WHAT THE HELL IS IN MY PURSE

WHAT THE HELL IS IN MY PURSE

I just looked in my purse and for some reason I have nutmeg in the bottom of it. I was looking for a very important mini-spiral notebook and noticed that the 10,000 count, Extra large Ibuprofren bottle we have been searching frantically for the past month has been turned over and little brown tablets are in every corner and crevice of my purse. We just went to Costco and purchased two more 10,000 count Ibuprofrens to make up for our loss. I should have looked in the zipper portion of my purse.

And then I noticed the nutmeg. Why do I have nutmeg in my purse? It too, has opened and has sprinkled spicy dust all over the place. My purse needs a little pumpkin mix and we would have a wonderful pie.

Isn't it fascinating to look in other peoples purses? My friend Lisa, my sister and my mom know exactly what is in their purse. They have compartments and smaller containers for each of their important items. They probably know where their keys are and can hand you a fresh tissue when you need to blow your nose. I usually have a Subway napkin covered in sticky pen ink and a hair.
When their cell phone rings, they know exactly where it is and can answer on 2 rings. Mine somehow got placed in the side pocket underneath 3 pairs of sunglasses (why do I have three pair and not one and why is it not in a sunglass case?) and I always have to check my voicemail because I usually miss the call.

I love purses and usually do better when it does have those special compartments (except when losing pills). If I ever get suckered into a cute summer straw bag, it usually comes with the gaping black hole of an inside where your keys, wallet, ham sandwich and cell phone get sucked into the unknown. I NEVER can find anything in THOSE kinds of purses.

My ideal purse is one that is extremely cute and stylish on the outside, but has a secret life on the inside that the purse is too afraid to divulge to other purses. It contains pockets, hooks, zippers, side slots, and even a built in wallet that opens out to show your ID to the 14 year old cashier at the grocery store that doesn't believe you're old enough to buy Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade. That's my kind of purse, a purse with it's own baggage.

I just looked in the left section of my purse (the zippered middle divides the purse in two - kind of like "a tale of two purses") and saw one lone red twizzler from when we went to the movies - three weeks ago.

It has nutmeg on it. I wonder if that would taste good?

From the infamous words of Capitol One credit cards, "What's In Your Wallet?"

TO MY MOTHER

TO MY MOTHER

As I sit on the beach, looking out at the clear blue water, I am inspired to create the most wonderful gift for one of my MOST FAVORITE PEOPLE: My Mother!!!

I reach in my beach bag for a pen and paper to write down a few thoughts that lead to a story that tells a tale about a very special person...

She has the kindest voice and a beautiful face to go along with her beautiful heart.

This person REALLY listens, without trying to constantly interject.


Her laugh is like music.

There is nothing like the feeling you get when she laughs at your silly comments and stupid jokes.

She has the best sense of humor.

She is ever so neat, organized and very clever. She is one of the most creative people I know (even though she may not think she is)

She likes anyone who loves to dance as much as she does.

When people meet my mother, they are instantly in love.

They drink her in like a fine wine or an exquisite bottle of Cognac.

She is one word: DIVINE.

But a story is not enough.....I think I will get out my watercolors and paint the most marvelous picture.

In my picture, I will paint a family at the beach. Grandma is in the ocean, swimming in her white flowered bathing cap.

Dad is lounging in a beach chair, rubbing suntan oil on his already tan body,
his watch in his "Docksiders", drinking a bottle of "Pabst Blue Ribbon".

Papa is sitting under the beach umbrella, smoking a "Camel" and admiring his feet (he loves his feet).

He is laughing at my little sister, Sarah who has made a small pool out of her green bucket. She has crammed her "Coppertoned" body into her version of the ocean.

Grandma has just put a white beach hat on Sarah's head because her cheeks have become quite pink.

Ashley is wearing her pink and white halter bathing suit, turning cartwheels in the sand.

She has just yelled to you, that she thinks she sees "Lassie".

You are sitting on a blue raft at the water's edge, watching two seagulls fight for a fish.

In this picture, we are all YOUNG.

Our smiling faces are captured on the canvas, frozen in time.

We are all so unaware of what lies ahead.

In this picture, I have painted life at its best.

But a single picture cannot possibly express what I feel...Perhaps a song would be the right gift. The perfect song, like the perfect dish, must have all the right ingredients.

The song would have a dash of "Jeremiah Bullfrog" ROCK N ROLL, a cup of "Electric Avenue" REGGAE and "Boot Scoot Boogie" WOOGIE, a teaspoon of "Strip Right Down To Your Underwear" DIRTY DANCING, a pinch of authentic VIRGINIA SHAG, just a twist of "Make Me Want to SHOUT", a sliver of "Billy Jean" MOONWALKING, some "Party Train" GROOVE, some "Eli's Comin" GOSPEL and a SOULFUL tablespoon of "Proud Mary". I would top it off with the heart wrenching sounds of "Otis Redding", "Carol King" and "Joan Baez". This song would be served on a silver "Platter" with a cool side of "Pink Floyd".

There are enough stories to fill up a library; enough watercolors to decorate a gallery, a book of laughs to amuse the masses and a list of songs to entertain a party for hours.

As you gaze upon your blazing candles on each of your HAPPY BIRTHDAY cakes, may you be reminded of the WORK OF ART your life has been so far....

I'm So Glad You Were Born!