Maria Poppins

It seems there is always one person in the group who assumes the caregiver/responsible role. If you lined up the Freestyle Five and did a quick assessment, you would probably guess that person would be Sleepless. Most times, this guess would be spot on. This weekend that person, surprisingly, was me.

 

Prior to leaving for NYC, I sent messages advising everyone to bring flashlights, warm clothing and swimsuits (the latter were for the bath house). Once in NYC, I channeled my inner Julie Andrews and became the hen in charge of the chicks.

 

I ensured everyone got to see what they wanted to see, didn’t get drinking glasses with chipped rims, had what they needed to make it through the weekend and got on the right subway. If needed and if the curtains were thicker, I would have made us matching outfits, just like Maria in The Sound of Music. Luckily, I didn’t have to do so, but, like Maria, I climbed a tree/fire pole, scraped my knee, and I’m pretty sure my dress got a tear.

 

If my little chicks needed me to hold their eyeglasses, wallets, hats, gloves and the like, I put them in my purse. If they needed dental floss, markers, gum, tissue, powder, lip gloss, wigs, tip money/tuppence, an umbrella, or a tape measure, I pulled it out of my bag for them. Whatever they needed, I had. “What all do you have in that purse?” Live Longer asked and then added, “You’re like Mary Poppins.” “Actually, I’m Mary Fuckin’ Poppins,” I replied, handed her a mirror, and said, “Spit spot.”

 

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