Let The Games Begin

 

 

A long time ago, in a state far, far away, I met a guy. Let’s call him G. We met one summer day in the hallway of the high school we were hoping to attend, after taking a personality test this particular school demanded to ensure that we were right for their establishment.  I believe his first comment to me was a wonderful mimicry of the test we had just finished, laced with sarcasm, my favorite type of humor.

“Do you like working inside or outside? Do you like working with people or by yourself? Do you like light or dim environments? Well, do you?!”

 

 

It was friendship at first sarcasm.

 

 

A few months later I met a girl. We’ll name her R. We chose the same vocation to learn during high school, and we became fast friends. Over the years, R and I have had many adventures together, and I can honestly say that I am a better person because of her.  And over time, my two friends G and R, met, fell in love, and they tied the knot. All was great! Except for that tiny fact that six years ago J and I moved far away and our families were separated by many miles.  Sure, we tried to visit one another, but traveling with kids half way up the east coast gets expensive and drives you batty when you are forced to listen to 12 hours of “Are we there yet? How about now? Now?” …. And that’s just coming from the adults. Ok ok not all of the adults. Just G.

 

To help combat the sad fact that it was more difficult to wreak fun havoc together with us being so far away, we would joke that it may be a good thing for the rest of the world to keep a few states separating us. G and I are the male/female versions of one another. As he well put it the other day on my FB page:

“Despite what you would hear, the reason for this separation is for the benefit for all of mankind. You see if we get together, sarcasm, at EPIC levels, will occur. The likes of which you have never seen!

I've seen brave men weep at just a few seconds of hearing us together. It's so bad it has been banned by the Geneva Convention…”

 

And while I wish that I could say that he has a tendency to exaggerate, aside from the Geneva Convention aspect, that’s pretty accurate. I’ve always wondered if he and I were somehow twins secretly separated at birth.  I blame him for my first F ever in school. Technically I can admit that it was the teachers fault. She didn’t know as all the other teachers did, to not seat us next to each other. She learned within one semester after she spent more time every single day, trying to get us to shut up and pay attention to the lesson at hand than she did teaching said lesson.

 

 

 

And don't even get me started on the three of us together in high school drama club. Even I can admit that sometimes there are some stories that should never be told. 

 

 We’ve all known each other now for over twenty years. You would think that we would have mellowed out with age. You would also be terribly, horribly wrong. What’s even scarier to the unsuspecting public is that we also have children that are only six days apart. Mini us, who will be in the same grade, year after year. It’s almost like history is repeating itself.  

 

But now the fun begins. Because last week G and R finally followed in my family’s footsteps and they have moved down here. Only ten minutes separate our households. After twenty years, we are now closer to each other than we have ever been, and I am not sure if this town can survive all of us, and our offspring, together.

 

The master plans have already begun. It’s not even time for kindergarten registration and we are already planning on how to get our kids together in the same school, the same track and sometimes, the same teacher.  And if we were hard to handle many years ago, I can already imagine the phone calls and parent/teacher meetings we parental units will be dragged into via the mischievous actions of our boys combined. I plan on gifting Soren’s future teachers with ample supplies of booze, just to stay on her good side.

Holidays have just become that much more entertaining (and loud). Who am I kidding? EVERY DAY has become more entertaining (and loud).  It’s been a week since they have arrived and every morning we all gather together for coffee and breakfast. I’ll admit that I am surprised that the local police have not yet stopped by to recite the appropriate domestic volume decibel level. Halloween, our favorite holiday of the year, is going to be amazing. For us. For the people who hand put pretzels instead of proper candy?.... Not so much (Yes, I’m looking at *you* mom!)

 

And for the first time ever, we all have a giant village in which to raise our children together. While we may not technically share familial blood, sometimes family is who you choose. And we choose each other. Add my mother into the equation, who lives ten doors down from G and R, and our kids will have more adults raising them than they will know what to do with. And it’s going to be awesome. Our kids will either grow up with the most fantastic rounded personalities, getting the best each of us has to offer, or we’ll be pooling our money into accounts to pay for our children’s therapy. Either way, our kids will have an interesting childhood that they will be able to regale their own children with. Simultaneously, G and R will, for the first time, have friends who also understand what it means to be a Parental Unit. With our new village of family, they will finally be able to go out as a couple, and relax, knowing that their child is being cared for. That is more precious to Parental Units than anything else you could offer them. A chance to recharge and remember why they thought having offspring was a good idea in the first place.

 

So. Here we are. Fast friends since we were mere kids ourselves, having children of our own, and now living closer together than ever before. All I can say local readers is this:

 

Brace yourselves. The fun is about to begin. And just in case it’s ever needed for legal matters, I blame G.