>A “normal” Saturday:
I get up first, start coffee, start schoolwork, start laundry, stay in pajamas as long as I can.
Amigo sets his alarm for 8:00 so he can listen to his favorite shows on NPR while relaxing in bed in his pajamas.
Husband might actually get up and get dressed — or he might stretch out with the newspaper and listen to Public Radio with Amigo.
This week was different. Amigo’s high school music festival was today, and he was scheduled to sing at (gasp) 8:00 AM. A teenager! Singing! For a festival adjudicator! At the ghastly, uncivilized hour of 8! AM! So this morning:
6:30 – I got up, fed rabbit, cleaned up, got dressed, warmed up on piano because I was accompanying Amigo’s solo.
7:00 – Husband got up, got dressed, got himself looking human, joined us in the strange Saturday morning routine.
7:00 – Amigo dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, got a little juice to drink, then joined me at the piano to warm up his young cambiata tenor voice. Yes, this young tenor had to reach a high F at the peak of the song “Shenandoah” at 8 AM.
7:25 – Grandma arrived, we piled into the minivan, headed for the festival held on the other side of town at my very own alma mater.
7:40 – We got lucky for parking. Husband dropped us off on a plowed sidewalk (Yippee!) directly in front of the school and then backed up into the handicapped parking stall and placed Amigo’s parking permit on the mirror. This was a concern; the high school is in an old neighborhood, and there is very little parking near the school itself.
7:47 – We found the room in which Amigo was to open the day, warmed him up again, let him hear the room’s acoustics and the difference in pianos, and then took off in search of a water fountain for a quick wetting of the whistle before his actual performance.
8:00 – He sang well. I know I’m his mom, so I’m biased, but he sang well. Whatever he earns in a rating, he did himself proud.
8:10 – We were back in the minivan and headed for breakfast at a local pancake place, Blueberry Hill. Amigo’s excitement spilled over literally in the form of a little pineapple juice on his pants and a bit of syrup on the table, but he didn’t mind. He gave Grandma a hard time about ordering only one pancake and decaf coffee (“Come on, Grandma, it’s a special occasion!”) but the food was all good and we enjoyed the mini-celebration.
8:55 – We were back in the minivan and on our way home, a USA Today in my hands for a special treat. Yes, I like reading a print newspaper. It’s a simple pleasure that I’ll miss if print newspapers ever go away – and I don’t believe this particular media will ever completely disappear.
And now, with the exception of the usual pajama attire, we’re all back at home doing laundry, schoolwork, cleaning the bunny cage, and listening to a little public radio.
Normal can handle a few glitches once in a while, especially in the form of a special performance and breakfast out with family.