Making Memories

It's been kind of a week here.

So Thursday afternoon, I was on the phone with my dear friend, Stephanie.

A little bit about Stephanie, dear Reader:
Stephanie is one of my fellow teachers at school. She's the "teacher across the hall." I put that in quotes because I teach for a virtual school, so she's not literally across the hall, but she is technologically. We "pop" in and out of each other's "classrooms" and lives multiple times a day via email, text, phone, facebook...and yet she lives three hours away from me. Technology is an amazing, amazing thing. And Steph is an amazing, amazing friend. But I digress.

Anyway, I was talking to Steph. I'm not even sure what we were discussing. Probably I was whining about my week. :o) When all of the sudden, she says out of the blue,

"You should totally let your kids stay home from school tomorrow..."

(Me thinking to myself...Why would I do that? I have to work tomorrow. They only have one more week of school before break...um???)

"...And surprise your kids tonight by taking them to the midnight showing of The Hobbit!"

My initial reaction was, Okay. Now that's just crazy talk.
1. I can't let my kids stay home from school tomorrow to go to a MOVIE tonight! I'm pretty sure that's not on the list of top 10 things responsible parents do.
2. Take my kids out of town to a movie at midnight? Are you SERIOUS?? It's December. In Kansas. During Daylight Savings Time. It's dark at like 4:45. Which means I start counting the minutes until I can put on my pajamas at 6. And I live a lifetime every night between 6 and 10 when I finally get to think about turning in. I'll NEVER make it until midnight.
3. It's The Hobbit. Any other movie, and I might consider it. But I confess. I hate The Hobbit. I've read that book three times. Yes. Three. Because it's supposed to be a classic. And I hated it every time and I have essentially no recollection of what it is about except a hobbit (obviously) and I think a ring and maybe a dragon.
4. I hated every one of The Lord of the Rings movies that I managed to stay awake for (especially the last one, where I swear it took an hour to get the stupid ring into the stupid volcano and I literally had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from blurting out in the movie theater...Oh FOR. THE. LOVE!! Just get the thing in there already! We all know how it turns out!"

But the more I thought about it, the more I thought my wise friend, Stephanie, was perhaps on to something.

My kids LOVE movies.
They LOVE The Lord of the Rings movies (they totally get that from their dad--weirdos, all of them...
I'm single-parenting three teenagers and a preteen. To say my "wicked cool mom" opportunities are few would be an understatement. Mostly I just get to be the kill-joy.
And let's face it. They love getting to stay home from school.
Hopefully someday it will be one of those great memories that they tell their kids about.

So I decided to do it.
I purchased tickets on line.
I tried to discreetly inquire about test or project or assignment obligations at school.
We went about our "normal evening routine--ha!" and I said nothing (very hard for me.)
I put the youngest to bed. I told the older ones to go to bed.
I drank LOTS of coffee.

And at 11 pm, I roused them all.

The youngest was in a deep sleep. The second-oldest was almost asleep. The oldest and the third child were still awake, texting friends and reading, respectively.

The third child, who has been smarter than I am since he was about four, asked what time it was. When I told him, he said, "You're taking us to the midnight showing of the Hobbit, aren't you?"

So much for a surprise. :o)

The oldest son groaned and whined when I said we were going to a movie at midnight. When I said he could sleep in the next morning, however, he jumped out of bed and exclaimed, "YESSS!" :o)

Even though I had to sit through essentially three hours of hobbits and dwarves and orks and that's three hours of my life I can't ever have back again, it was so worth it.

To see their excitement. To hear my oldest daughter admonish her siblings when voices got a little snarky, with "Hey guys! Let's just have fun tonight. No fighting, okay?" To have my sweet little one tuck her head under my arm in the darkened theater and fall asleep. To hear the whole way home and all the next day how fun it was and how glad they were that we got to go.

And then on Friday. When the unfathomable happened. When a small town in Connecticut began to live every parent's nightmare, I 100% knew my children were safe. I could physically hug each and every one of them in that moment. I didn't have to wait or wonder or worry.

Life is short. Every moment is a gift. We aren't guaranteed another one. Any one of us. I'm so glad we took that moment.

Thanks, Steph, for suggesting it.