Simply Said

Simply said, I love you September.

Maybe more than any other month. My own personal epiphany occured sometime last week, taking me quite by surprise. In ways September as a month reminds me of Tuesday as a day. Nothing much special about it. No fantastic holidays, the most notable thing is the change of seasons from summer to fall, but that's about it. However, I was feeling all warm and fuzzy about things, for lack of any other overused description, and finally placed why.

Anticipation.

Actually quite a lot happens in September. Though the formal change of seasons doesn't happen until late in the month, the arrival of September for me marks the official turn of the corner into fall. My kids have already started school, and my life is still hectic but in a very different way and with larger blocks of unhectic time carved out of each day that I call blessed.

September is like Christmas morning with the kid tip-toeing and giggling down the hall to the living room to see what treasures await. I tell you, it's really better than the actual opening, but you have to be 35 before you realize it.

September is the calm launching pad into two to three months of fun and celebration. Through the eyes of September you can enjoy what awaits and not do any of the work that will be required to make it all happen. There is no fighting with other shoppers in the aisles, no hissing or cursing, no pounds are gained, everything looks beautiful and is in perfect place, no last minute shopping panic, no spoiled kids with a mountain of unintended presents with well-intentioned parents (ahem, of course I don't mean me). That doesn't happen. No, because September won't allow those things to spoil the fun. I haven't quite decided, but it may be the perfect month.

September is when you plan Halloween parties and costumes, organize cupcake walks, decide who's house to have Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day at, and plant the seeds of the family feuds that will spice up the holidays to come. 30 days to reflect contendedly on past holidays, past Christmas Gorillas, past haunted houses, past Thanksgiving lasagnas, past Santa Claus pillows and Christmas elves, past Halloween eggings and 8th grade space cadet costumes. All of course with the amber glow of September. September is a delicious little oasis. September, you are mine.

We only have 8 days left. Tip-toe. Giggle, giggle. It's almost gone...

Your what?

That would be U-R-A-N-U-S.

This may be the most uncomfortable word to speak in the whole english language--even in the comfort of your own living room with only your two smallest children for company.

You see, my 5-year-old, brand new kindergarten student made his first trip to the school library on Tuesday. Yesterday he plopped himself on the couch and opened up his special book. After a few questions of how to say this and that, I went to sit by him and read the book out loud. You know, like a good mom. I was under the impression that this was a book about the solar system or something. No. It was a book dedicated entirely to our favorite 7th planet.

Lest you think I am playing the part of a twittering schoolgirl, just imagine yourself reading page after unrelenting page, out loud to your kid. Sentences like....




U-R-A-N-U-S.....ah, this word and I have a history. At one point in time we might have even been called friends, well at least not enemies. In my young and innocent years, before my eyes had been opened to the shameful results of this word being spoken out loud and in a public setting, I graciously considered our 7th planet on equal footing with our 7 other planet friends, except I've always thought Pluto (which is now deemed a dwarf planet) was the cutest, being so very small and out there all alone in that outermost icy orbit of his (or hers).

Anyway, I was young--at that age when a kid is desperate to perform any stunt that will make adults smile and think they're cute. I was with my family at The Good Earth. For whatever reason we were eating at their cafe and I ordered the Planet Burger. They brought the food to us. At that moment I was sabotaged in the worst way by this unfortunate need for positive reinforcement. I held my Planet Burger up thinking I was truly the most clever kid ever, and said loudly, "Does anyone want a bite of U-R-A-N-U-S?!?" Trust me, I wasn't trying to be crude, just terribly clever. I was mid sentence but past the point of no return when the walls came crumbling down. I had been so sure of the admiring smiles until I heard myself say that word. Why couldn't I have chosen Saturn, or Mercury, or even cute little Pluto who surely needs a little recognition? Nope. Yeah whatever, they thought it was hilarious. I was horrified.

So, who chose the pronunciation anyway, or the word for that matter? Come on. There must have been some other candidates, and what was the reason they didn't make the cut and our friend U-R-A-N-U-S did? I'm sure there was a great deal of giggling at the thought of all the future generations of discomfort and public embarrassment that were now destined to come barreling down the pike.

Here's to you, namers of the 7th planet. You got me. Now, can we at least prounce it differently? Like U-RAN-U-S? I'm trying to find a good hiding spot for my kid's book. It gets to live at our house for a whole week. Aren't we lucky?