Repeating history

I cut my teeth and learned to walk to the soundtrack from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Cary Grant movies.

I roller skated a lot.

But, sadly, I didn't play with dolls much.

I learned how to fight from my four brothers, though none of us was ever really good at it. I climbed a lot of trees. I became a master of hopscotch.

I learned about gardens from my grandma as I ate fresh, crisp peas on desert rose plates in her kitchen. I also learned the joy of butter.

I bathed in an ocean of familial love at noisy family parties. I played Red Rover and Easter Egg with many, many cousins.

I cried and laughed through the awkward pains of junior high. I got a lot of perms and hated my body.

I sang Air Supply songs at the top of my lungs while driving with friends in high school. I went to dances in Jessica McClintock dresses. I was very unsure of myself.

But I pretended otherwise.

I went to college and learned how to stand on my own two feet. I dated a lot of boys. None of whom were quite right.

I met a handsome man one night quite by accident and felt my heart skip a beat. My soul recognized him right away.

And so I said yes. Naturally.

We blinked and became parents of three. I got very little sleep and changed a lot of diapers. I put on Disney movies and took desperate naps on the couch. I went to the park and pushed little diapered bottoms on the swings.

I moved a lot, and made many new friends. I logged hundreds of miles behind a jogging stroller.

I made peanut butter sandwiches and wiped sticky fingerprints off the wall.

I cried when the school bus came for the first time. For about a minute and a half.

I blinked again and found them all in school. When the bus came that day, I cried for about an hour and a half.

Now I find myself pleasantly surprised that the story is repeating itself for them.

With musicals, cousins, desert rose plates, tree climbing, butter, hopscotch, and endless love.

Something tells me that this story will have a happy ending for them, too.