October in Athens

Last night after supper, we headed to Barrow School, a nearby elementary, to play on the playground. There are actually three playgrounds at this school, each one age appropriate. The school borders the UGA campus, and we could hear the Redcoat Band practicing for Saturday's home game against Tennessee. So we walked over to the practice fields and slipped in a gate. Margaret was complaining the entire way of being scared, but once we got inside and saw the 60 or so other people listening to the band, she relaxed. There are several practice fields. The band was in the lowest one, which meant we could sit on the slope and see and hear everything. It was quite a spectacle. There were girls waving flags, twirling batons and dancing. There must have been 25 people drumming and at least that many tubas and French horns. It's funny how the musicians walk sort of like figures in Egyptian paintings, with their bodies in one direction and their heads in another. And on tip toe. We got to hear exciting music without the horror of a college football game, with its associated drunks and crazed fans.
Clara and Margaret were up and bouncing when the drum corps started playing and jamming. It was hilarious to see them moving in this primitive, rhythmic way. And then they would just burst out and run around in circles for a minute or so. The wind was blowing, it was a little cool, and the moon was out. And so was the evening star. We stayed until the band started to break up, and then we went back to a darkened playground, where the girls zipped down the Big Slide a few times.
It was a great evening. Everyone loved it.
Living with Clara is a little like living with an actress/hypochondriac. A few days ago, we were coming home from our neighborhood pharmacy, which has a lunch counter, when Clara broke into a run and promptly fell down. She skinned her knee and her hand. Just when all the owwies everyone had suffered with had finally disappeared. This new owwie meant another band-aid we weren't allowed to remove for days. When I asked Clara to do something, she would say, "I can't, I have an owwie." If I insisted, she would limp around and finally get the task finished. The upside is that she is very sympathetic, if not empathetic when other people are sick or hurting.
So much for progress on the separation front. Last Sunday, I stayed in church until the end of the service. Other mamas came and picked up their children from the nursery, until only about five kids were left. As Margaret saw all the other moms come, she began to frown and pout. And then drop drop drop, she started crying. And nothing, the nursery workers said, could stop her tears. By the time they paged me, Margaret had been crying for ten minutes. She stopped immediately when I arrived and picked her up and changed the subject. I don't blame her; I remember getting anxious when my parents were late in retrieving me from an event or activity. So we are back to Square One, and I'm volunteering in the nursery tomorrow. I will start the long process of leaving them alone.
One last Clara tidbit: On Friday, Margaret went outside with Roxy, leaving a half cup of milk on the table. Clara grabbed it and settled down next to me on the couch. "Isn't that Margaret's milk?" I asked. She looked at the cup. "Yes, it is, but she would want me to have it." So she did. Also, I often (I have realized) will end a conversation with them by saying, "Forget it." And so guess who is saying, "Forget it!" Of course. She's even using it in the correct context. God Almighty, I really do have to watch everything that comes out of my mouth.
Tomorrow is my birthday. What better presents could i ask for than two hilarious girls and a funny husband?