It's a hard knock life

Today I decided it was time to introduce Mabes to a classic: Annie. I hyped it up, told her it was my favorite movie when I was her age, and we could have a special day watching the movie together (while I also sewed, but she didn't really care about the togetherness). She seemed mildly intrigued.



I started the DVD, and as soon as the opening credits started, that feeling of "heeeeeeeeee, it's ANNIE!" came flooding back. Seriously, folks, I LOVED this movie. I had an Annie dress. Annie locket. Annie romper. Annie WIG. Of all my mom's daughters to be obsessed with Annie, of course it was the non-redhead. I kept looking at Mabes, biting my tongue to keep from saying, "isn't this awesome?!?" I mean, it was just the opening credits. As they ended, Mabes said, "Why she say 'tomorrow, tomorrow' over and over again?" And then I realized--I was watching Annie with the Riddler.

For the next 45 minutes, Mabes was captivated, not by the songs, costumes, and dance numbers, but by the apparent countless questions the movie raises. Questions that, if you watch the movie, are either irrelevant or quickly answered. It's not Lost, for crying out loud. But Mabes has no patience. "Why she singing out da window? Why she want dem to call her 'baby'? Why Miss Hannigan is so mean? Why does Annie get in dat box? Where's he taking her? Why da policeman following her?" And that was just the first 10 minutes.

She enjoyed it, but her attention was waning, and about halfway through, she decided she'd rather go outside and draw with sidewalk chalk. I can't blame her, we've finally had some nice weather and I probably should have encouraged the sidewalk chalk to begin with. But I couldn't help the "pearls before swine" feeling. Maybe Annabelle will get it. I'm already calling her Annie just in case.

And my mom posted this quote on her blog, so I'm taking it:

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he has been robbed.

"The fact is most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .

"Life is like an old-time rail journey--delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed.

"The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride" (Hinckley, 1997).

I'm guilty of this. As a kid, I would sing "it's a hard knock life" and call my mom Miss Hannigan (for which I am very sorry, Mom!). And I still have days of feeling sorry for myself because life just doesn't seem fair sometimes. But if the last few years have taught me anything, it's that life isn't fair. Things could be better, but they could also be much, much worse. And when I stop focusing on the unfairness or what I don't have and focus instead on what I do have, suddenly I'm able to enjoy the ride. I've got an awesome family, an amazing husband, and two adorable (even if one made me want to pull my hair out today) girls. Life is pretty good.