My Real Life

So, tonight was my church’s annual Carol Sing.

There is a dinner from 5-6, and then from 6-6:45, everyone sings Christmas carols. 

I was going to play my flute in the “carol sing band” but then Real Man got asked to go to the Giants game with his nephew, and rather than have my Mom wrangle the monkeys alone, I opted out of the band and sat with the family.

The kids had a blast.  They loved the dinner and loved the dessert.  We shared a table with my old friend, Dave, and his kids, his mom, and his sister.  He chatted with Monkey Girl for awhile.  About what, I don’t know…couldn’t hear the conversation.  I’m sure it was interesting.

Then, we folded up the tables and rearranged the chairs for the singing.

Monkey Girl sang her little heart out.  So did Baby Monkey. 

Except, he decided to sing in Spanish.

He doesn’t actually know Spanish, but he thinks he does.

You’ve never heard Silent Night until you’ve heard Baby Monkey’s Spanish rendition.

He also did a little dance while he sang. 

Seriously, who needs tv when you have kids?

Monkey in the Middle wasn’t feeling the caroling love.  So, he just snuggled up next to me and went to the bathroom about twenty times.

At one point, they call all the kids up to play instruments for two songs.

The monkeys were in heaven.  Baby Monkey, who will grow up to be a drummer…there is no doubt, chose rhythm sticks.  Monkey in the Middle had some other thing that I can’t think of the name for, but it’s the same idea…you hit it to the beat.  Monkey Girl had jingle bells to shake.

Afterward, my friend Julie said that the monkeys had some great rhythm.  I know that to be the truth…if there’s one thing they inherited from me, it’s rhythm.  You should see me dance. 🙂

Julie also told Monkey in the Middle that having good rhythm is instrumental in being a good basketball player.  He chatted about that all the way home.

“Mom…did you hear that lady?  She said that because I’m a good drummer, I’m a good basketball player.  And I am!  I’m a really good basketball player!  I need to drum more so I can get even better at basketball!”

Love that boy.

In the end, it was a nice evening.

Until…

(you knew there had to be an “until”…right?)

…we drove my Mom home.

My parents have a ridiculous driveway.  You not only have to drive down a steep driveway to get to their house, but it also curves in very strange places.  They can’t get a plow guy to plow them out in the winter.  No one can make the turns.

It snowed here yesterday, and although most of it melted, there were some patches of ice on the driveway.

My Mom was worried about falling if she walked down the driveway, which I totally understand, so I drove her down.

And couldn’t get back up.

My wheels were spinning, I was burning rubber, and wasn’t moving an inch.

My Dad came out with the salt and started salting the driveway and we tried again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Still there.

Baby Monkey said, “This is an adventure!”

Monkey Girl said, “Is that the kind of salt they put on french fries?”

Monkey in the Middle said, “Someone needs to comfort me because I’m scared we’ll have to sleep in the van!”

I explained that Grandma and Grandpa would probably let us sleep in the house if we were stuck and that Daddy would come get us after the Giants game. 

Finally, when my Dad had used the entire bag of salt, I gave it a final try.

I rolled down my window and said to my Dad, “Look…if I get out of here, I’m not stopping to say goodbye…we’ll talk tomorrow.”

He understood.

I gunned it and shot up that driveway like a bat out of hell.

And made it.

Ahhhh…

So, overall, a pretty good evening with the monkeys. 🙂