My Writings. My Thoughts.
As many people do, we went to the movies the day after Thanksgiving. Choosing a movie that everyone would enjoy required some negotiation. Sawyer wanted to see something that I don’t think he is old enough to see. Starving Artist already saw the movie that SuperTween wanted to see. RenTeen and Dad wanted whatever made everyone else happy. We went to see Frozen.
Without being too spoilery, Frozen is one of Disney’s best movies. Disney is finally creating self-rescuing Princesses. They are doing away with tropes like ‘true love’s kiss’ and ‘happily ever after’ and replacing them with possibilities and potential. Syrupy sweetness is becoming sincere compassion and love. Yes, the songs are catchy and there’s a cartoon character to over-merchandise. This is still a movie for children to watch. It’s also a movie that teens and young adults are going to embrace and use as their own anthem. They should. The sister in the movie who can sing is presented just vague enough to make her an icon for anyone shaking off the weight of expectations and acceptance of reality. The prison that is inflicted upon you and the prison that you inflict upon yourself are deeply introspective concepts, yet Frozen remains hopeful. Optimism, the defining characteristic of the main character, is what this generation needs. It’s what we all need. This is the Princess movie that you want your children to cherish. It’s also the movie that will remind you some things you already knew, but needed to hear anyway.
After the movie, we walked across Gay Street to Krutch Park. The city’s tree was freshly lit, a choir was singing and SuperTween smiled an earlobe to earlobe grin. “It’s like we walked into Frozen.” We drank Cheerwine punch, ate Krispy Kreme donuts and wandered toward Market Square. A band played before an audience of people dancing and laughing. Small children pointed at an old man with a white beard and whispered, “Santa.” The man winked and smiled. It was impossible to watch with a dry eye.
Sometimes, everything is so perfect that you want to freeze the sights, sounds, smells and feelings in your memories forever. This was one of those times.
Sweet, snuggly Buttercup’s heart, lungs and bloodwork are perfect. The vet refuses to diagnosis Buttercup with dwarfism until tiny Buttercup has been sedated, x-rayed and scanned. Since Buttercup got snarly when the vet yanked on her paws, the vet has decided that Buttercup’s legs are causing her pain. Buttercup climbs up and down the cat condo, chases the red laser dot, attacks toes under blankets and purrs constantly.
Do we really need to subject her to tests when nothing is going to make her legs any longer?
SuperTween: “*Hey, Mom. Do you know how people dressed in the *80′s?”
*My children think my name is HeyMom. I’m Stacee Jaxx’s monkey.
*They also think I have only existed exactly as I look, dress and behave at this moment in time.
He: “Would you like a pink fitbit?”
She: “I’m really more of a black girl.”
He: “Why does the wall calendar say Doctor Who on the 23rd?”
I know that my role in this family is to make holidays happen. Not because they are holidays, but to create traditions for framing memories and celebrations to avoid getting lost in the mundane. I honestly don’t enjoy Thanksgiving. It’s a meal as a family. We eat meals as a family every day. Some of those meals are straight from cans and boxes, but some of them are pretty amazing. Thanksgiving feels like a manufactured day to buy the mandated groceries.
As a child, Thanksgiving at home was the required meal of turkey, cranberries and dressing. It was delicious, but so was everything that my mother cooked. Thanksgiving at my mother’s parents was the required foods with something new that my grandmother found in a magazine and venison. Venison was what they had in abundance, so that was what we always ate. Again, it was all delicious, but my grandmother cooked an obscene amount of amazing food every time we visited. Thanksgiving at my father’s parents was the required foods plus duck. My father’s mother loved duck and it was her holiday treat to herself.
It was food. It is food. I like food. I eat it every day. Eating food doesn’t cut it as a ‘holiday’ to me. It’s more of a stopwatch that declares it socially acceptable to get out your Christmas decorations.
Dad: “Since he didn’t get to trick or treat, are you going to share your Halloween candy with your brother?”
SuperTween: “I’m going to give him ALL my Halloween candy leftovers from last Halloween.”