Week 13 — Tri-One: An Amalgam of Sorts


Week 13It’s official.  I am 13-weeks along and just when I thought I was feeling better, today happened.  I won’t bore you with the details, but it wasn’t pretty.  In all honesty, it would bore even me if it weren’t making me sick.

This week the Dumplings are roughly three inches long.  Tomorrow we go for another ultrasound. The good thing about being a woman of advanced maternal age who is pregnant with twins — they are constantly wanting to check on and take pictures of the babies.  I do not mind this at all, of course.

Since I last wrote, I have completely redesigned the fireplace mantel area in our bedroom.  Now I am moving on to the bathroom.  I even went so far as to go to Home Depot and purchase a cable staple gun.  You should see this thing, it’s very serious.  I feel like the cable guy. Jonathan says nothing perks me up faster than finding knick-knacks for a shelf.  I hate to admit it, but he’s right.

I wonder if this is the nesting gene everyone keeps talking about?

Boston, 1991 No, I didn't really drink this many margaritas ... I don't think.   And yes, I have a perm.

Boston, 1991
No, I didn’t really drink this many margaritas … I don’t think.
And yes, I have a perm and a cigarette.
(I’ll delete this before the Dumplings can read blogs.)

Yesterday was Patriot’s Day.  It was Tax Day.  It was a tragic day in a city I love.  Boston. Boston is where I started to become an adult.  I say “started” because as much growing up as you do in college — the real growing up starts when you leave that little nest.  I met friends I have had for more than twenty-five years (did I just write 25 years?) and despite distance and time, every time I see them it simultaneously seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago.  It’s where I learned to be completely silly.  Where I learned to hold my tequila.  I also learned to drink White Russians — I was way ahead of The Dude in The Big Lebowski.  By the time The Big Lebowski was released in 1998, I was no longer able to look at a White Russian, much less drink one.

I never learned to hold my Kahlua like I learned to hold my tequila.  It took me awhile to let go of the perm, but now I am a free woman.

I have been avoiding the news since I found out I was pregnant.  I get some highlights and digest what I can, but generally I try to stay away from news channels and things that make me anxious.  Bombs going off as people who have trained and planned and worked towards this all-American event was so unfathomable to me; and yet it wasn’t.  I hate that I know there is evil in the world.  I don’t contemplate it too often because it serves no purpose, but I do know it’s out there.  Yesterday I was confronted with it again as I tried to take in the events of the day without overwhelming myself.  All I could think to do was pray for the families hurt by this senseless violence.  I hope they catch whoever did this, not only for the families, but for our nation.

Today I got an email from a very good friend of mine.  It had a link to a trailer for a documentary called TWO:  The Story of Roman & Nyro.  I watched it and got teary eyed.  Love always brings tears to my eyes.  Families bring tears to my eyes.  When you’re pregnant lots of things bring tears to your eyes.  People who want to be parents should be able to be parents and when you watch Roman & Nyro — even in this five minute trailer — you know they are on this earth with the parents they were meant to have.  I know the ache to have a child, as many women and men do, so when I see that dream fulfilled for people, it makes my heart happy.  I hope watching this will make your heart happy, too.  The boys are adorable.

Jonathan and I had to go to the Social Security Administration today.  I will only have you ponder this.  Why are they only open 9-3 for four days per week and 9-noon one day per week?  Your tax dollars at work.  Luckily we got there before three.

While driving we were listening to 70’s music.  Charlie Rich sang The Most Beautiful Girl In the World and I knew all of the lyrics.  Mawmaw had the 8-track.  Her 8-track collection is also why I can sing Gordon Lightfoot.  Today we heard Bread, Boston, The Association, Supertramp and as we pulled into the driveway Stevie was singing Superstition.  I love Superstition. I am listening to it as I type this.

Whenever Jonathan and I sing 70’s in the car, I imagine us looking like this.

Jonathan and Terry 70's Birthday Party July 2011

Jonathan and Terry
70’s Birthday Party
July 2011

I met Stevie Wonder when I was the Talent Executive on the TV Land Awards one year. They did a tribute to Soul Train and Don Cornelius.  Stevie sang Superstition.  When he showed up for rehearsal, we had to tell him rehearsal was running behind.  He was very nice about it, but he said in his very sweet voice, “I know the song.  I’ve played it before.” That always makes me laugh for some reason.  Roseanne Barr was there that night as well, and all I can remember is her dancing and singing that song.  The editors were constantly cutting to her in the final show because she was so into it.

When I think of moments like this one, I miss working in talent booking full-time.  But then things happen — like Queen Latifah cancels on me three weeks before an event — and I don’t miss it.  That is what I am dealing with this week.

As I started typing today, I realized it was going to be an amalgam of my week.  I did not really have a theme or one specific story.  It was a week full of impressions.

Lately every impression I have makes me think about the Dumplings.

I think about the events in Boston and I wonder, What kind of world will they grow-up in?  And then I step back and think — a beautiful one; especially if they think it’s 1975 until they are 10.  Honestly, there is way more good in this world than evil.  Evil always seems to take the spotlight in the most horrific and sensationalistic ways like it did yesterday.  I don’t know if that will ever change.  It’s up us to be the good — show our children the good, make them aware of the evil and teach them not to live in fear, but in love. All we can do is LOVE ON.

I think about college; drinking too many margaritas and White Russians — getting bad perms and smoking cigarettes.  I decide these are just great examples of how not to be like Mommy.  And yet, I think about Boston Conservatory and all the good in my life that came from leaving home and blazing my own trail.

And finally I think about 60’s and 70’s music and start making my playlist for the delivery room.

Leave a Reply