Friday, January 18, 1980

Bridget and Michele ran past the bedroom door, giggling in their game of back-and-forth tag. I paused in applying mascara, the wand still in my hand, and called out, "Girls! Stop running!" I dipped the wand back into the tube, and turned to see Bridget peering in the doorway.

"Mommy, how much longer?" she whined.

"As soon as I finish my makeup and get Theresa dressed. You two quit running around. You're getting all sweaty and your hair's coming loose."

She reached up to touch the loose ribbon sliding down her pigtail along with the elastic. Frowning, she reached up and yanked it out before I could stop her.

"Oh, Bridget," I groaned, as she walked up to me, the elastic and ribbon in her palm. I sealed the mascara and set it down, swapping it for a brush and smoothing her hair back into a pigtail, fastening the elastic and retying the pink ribbon into her brown hair. "There you go."

A moment later, her twin dashed into the room, her cheeks flushed as pink as her dress. Stray hairs poked out from her braid in all directions. She dashed up and poked Bridget in the ribs.

"Tag! You're it!" she shouted, turning on her heel to run off.

"Hold it!" I grabbed her arm. "No more tag. That goes for both of you," I added, seizing Bridget's hand as she reached out to poke Michele. "Ten minutes….that's all I'm asking of you. Ten minutes of sitting still while I finish up." I knew I was asking the impossible, but I was hopeful as they sat on the bed.

A wail notified me that Theresa had awakened. She always got cranky unless she woke up on her own, and I'd been dreading waking her. Knowing that I wouldn't stand a chance of finishing my makeup with her underfoot, I'd had no problem putting it off. I gave the twins a warning look as I went to Theresa.

Theresa was standing in her crib, holding on to the railing and crying. She stretched her arms out as soon as she saw me. "Mama!"

"Good morning, baby girl! Can you give Mommy a smile? Where's a smile for Mommy? There it is! C'mon, honey, let's get dressed for Daddy's promotion."

I picked her up, kissing her forehead and cheeks repeatedly to make her giggle as I retrieved the dress I'd bought earlier in the week for her to wear to the ceremony. Al had rolled his eyes, saying I was going a bit overboard, but I was proud of his accomplishment. Not to mention, as I'd reminded him, the moment was going to be immortalized in film and I wanted the girls to look nice. That had forestalled any further protests, and a long-suffering grin that I suspected hid appreciation was his final comment.

"Pit-ty!" Sixteen-month old Theresa preened before the mirror, turning around and lifting her dress to examine the ruffles on the bloomers covering her diaper.

"Very pretty, Resa. Now put your dress down…that's not polite. See how pretty your dress is when you wear it like a big girl?" I kept a steady patter running while I brushed her curls and then tied a ribbon around her head, making the bow at the center. "Give Mommy your foot so I can put your socks on. Theresa, don't curl your toes like that."

Theresa giggled and swung her foot back and forth, admiring the ruffled cuff while I put the sock on her other foot. The black patent leather shoes were a special prize to her, so I had no trouble getting them on. Done, she jumped to her feet and ran to the low-hung mirror to inspect herself again; smiling, she once more proclaimed it to be "Pit-ty!" and clapped her hands.

"That's Mommy's pretty baby," I agreed, getting to my feet and brushing the wrinkles out of my skirt.

"Pit-ty! Me Pit-ty! Pit-ty Mama!"

"Hopefully your sisters are still pretty," I grinned, swinging her into my arms. We walked back into my bedroom and I gasped.

My makeup was in disarray on the vanity. Quickly my gaze shifted from the mess to Bridget, whose back was to the door. She held an eyeliner in her right hand and she was just about to begin coloring Michele's eyebrow with it.

"Freeze!"

I dashed across the room, seizing Bridget's hand and stopping its descent before it could make a single mark on Michele's face. Michele already had huge rouge circles on her cheeks, and two open lipsticks in her hands. She'd apparently been trying to decide which one she wanted to wear.

"What is going on here?"

Michele looked hesitantly up at me. "We wanted to be pretty for Daddy's cewemony."

Bridget nodded emphatically and turned to face me, proudly saying, "See how pretty Michele made me?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. The child had bright blue eyeshadow caked on in what seemed to be five layers. The deep gouge in my brand new blush made sense given the bright red circles on her face that would have been perfectly at home on Raggedy Ann. The kicker, though, was the application of lipstick—bright pink, with any area in the vicinity of Bridget's mouth having been deemed fair game.

"Me! Me!" shouted Theresa, who'd wriggled out of my hold onto the bed and was reaching for one of the lipsticks Michele held. Michele started to hand it to her when I intercepted.

"I'll take those," I said. I plucked the containers out of her hand and put them on the vanity with the rest of my destroyed cosmetics. Theresa screeched in protest and started crying.

"Michele. Bridget. Into the bathroom, both of you," I ordered over Theresa's squalling. They hesitated, then tearfully ran when I emphasized, "Now! I don't have time for this!"

I glanced at Theresa; her tantrum showed no signs of abating, but that would actually work to my advantage. I joined the twins in the bathroom. Bridget was sitting on the edge of the tub and Michele was sitting on the closed toilet lid. They looked nervously up at me.

"Are you gonna spank us?" Michele asked. Her sister burst into tears at the prospect.

"Bree, hush now…I'm not going to spank you." I reached for a washcloth and soaked it, calling her to me. As I scrubbed at the makeup, I said, "What made you decide to get into my makeup?"

"We wa-wanted to look pretty like you, Mommy," sniffled Bridget.

"Close your eyes for Mommy. You're too young for makeup, girls. And you do look pretty…or you did before you put all this goop on your face. I don't want you playing in my makeup anymore, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mommy."

I studied Bridget's face. The lipstick had left stains, and I hadn't been able to completely remove the eyeshadow. Sighing, I reached for a bottle of eye makeup remover and dampened a cotton ball. Brandishing it, I told her to close her eyes again. When she did, I swabbed her eyes until the blue tint was gone, then wiped away the remover with the washcloth. It took cold cream to get the lipstick marks off. Afterwards, Bridget's face was bright pink. Fortunately, Michele had only had blush applied, and a little soap eradicated any traces.

"Bree, would you go check on Theresa, please, while I redo your sister's braid? Hold still, Michele."

"It pulls, Mommy," she whined, fidgeting.

"If you'd hold still it wouldn't pull as much. There."

Bridget came back into the bathroom. "Resa's asleep, Mommy."

"Oh, no," I groaned. I got up and walked into the bedroom. Sure enough, Theresa was sprawled on her back, eyes closed and her little chest rising and falling steadily.

"Ooooh, she's gonna be cranky if you wake her up," commented Michele.

"Well, we're going to let her sleep a little longer." I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder before bending to pick up Theresa's limp form, her long arms and legs dangling like spaghetti. "Come on, girls. If we leave now, we won't be late."

They followed me downstairs and obediently put on their coats. I simply draped Theresa's around her and wedged my own jacket under my arm. I'd deal with putting it on in the car. The twins dawdled on the porch while I locked the front door, and then I sent Michele to the car with the keys to unlock it. Theresa only grunted when I settled her into the car seat, threading her arms into the coat sleeves before fastening the straps to secure her. On either side of her, Bridget and Michele settled into place, complaining about how the car seat was too wide.

I shrugged into my coat before getting into the car and shifting it into reverse, backing out of the driveway and heading for the interstate that would bring us to NAS Corpus Christi. As it was mid-morning, traffic was thick, but not so bad as it would have been at rush hour. A glance at my watch told me we'd make it in plenty of time. That's when I looked up and saw the brake lights lining the highway.

"Oh, no, not an accident," I groaned, creeping to a halt.

Slowly, we inched along the interstate, the signs notifying that NAS Corpus Christi was accessible in two exits taunting me. Once we did reach the base, I still had to navigate to Training Air Wing 4, then find the empty classroom where Al's promotion to captain would be taking place. I prayed a parking spot would be available nearby. I didn't even want to think about trying to hurry little legs in the cold.

"Come on," I muttered through gritted teeth, smacking the steering wheel in my frustration.

"Tell the mornons to move, Mommy!" Michele piped up.

"Tell the…what?"

"The mornons. Daddy says that the mornons don't know how to drive, so they should just move outta the way."

I started laughing. "Morons, Sheli? Is that what he called them?"

"That's not all he called them," put in Bridget. "He also said…"

Quickly interrupting before any of a number of words I could imagine Al having said left her lips, I suggested that we sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" while we waited for the cars ahead of us to move. After three choruses, we were just one exit away from our destination and I willed the traffic to begin flowing. While I didn't exactly get my wish, it did start to pick up to slightly faster than a snail's pace.

"N…A…S…" spelled Bridget. "Daddy's work! We're almost at Daddy's work, Mommy!"

"Finally."

After I took the exit, I dared to go over the speed limit until I came to the guard booth at the base entrance. Upon checking the sticker on the windshield and my ID, the guard waved me in.

The twins took turns trying to identify the letters on the signs scattered around the base while I drove to the headquarters for TAW-4. "There's a P!" "I see a W….and a O…"

Amidst the alphabet soup of signs, I finally saw the one I wanted, and I turned down the street leading to the building which housed the headquarters for the flight training school. The parking lot was crowded, but I was able to find a parking spot only yards from the entrance. Once I turned off the engine I turned to face the girls.

"This is a very important day for Daddy. Parts of it may seem boring to you, but I need you to be on your best behavior. Daddy's going to be made a captain today and we're very proud of him. And we want him to be proud of us, too."

"We'll be good," Bridget assured me, and Michele nodded."Resa might be cranky, though," she added.

I glanced at my youngest, who was quietly snoring in her car seat. "We can hope not. C'mon, we're gonna be late."

They clambered out of the car and stood by, stamping their feet as the cold prickled through their tights. I maneuvered Theresa out of her car seat, amazed that she didn't awaken, and nudged the car door closed with my hip. The twins each took hold of a pocket of my coat as we made our way to the building.

Once inside I hesitated, unsure of which direction to go to find the classroom where the ceremony would be held. A young aviator passed by and stopped to look at us.

"May I help you find something?" he asked.

"Yes, please! We need to get to room A301."

He grinned, "For Commander Calavicci's promotion? I'm on my way there myself. Just follow me."

"Thank you. Come on, girls." We hurried after him and I tried halfheartedly to wake Theresa up. She didn't budge.

"My Daddy's gonna be a captain today," Bridget told the young lieutenant.

"Full bird," he nodded at her. "It's a very big day. You must be proud."

"I am," she said, the seriousness of her tone contrasted by the bouncing of her pigtails as she bobbed her head affirmatively.

"Here we are," he said, gesturing towards the open doorway, from which we could hear the low rumbling of conversation. "After you, ladies."

We walked in and I was taken aback at how crowded the room was. Al had said maybe a handful of people would show up, but it was apparent he'd underestimated his popularity. Michele tugged on my coat sleeve and asked if all the people were there for the ceremony.

"I think so, Sheli." I smiled. "I think those seats are for us." We were being waved over to a few chairs that had been clustered toward the front of the classroom. I helped the girls off with their coats as best I could, then passed Theresa to Bridget's lap while I shrugged out of my own. They helped me get Theresa out of her coat, and Theresa finally stirred and yawned.

"Wh-where?" she asked as she stretched.

"We're at Daddy's cewemony," Bridget told her. "You need to be on best behaver so Daddy will be proud."

"Where Daddy?" Theresa scanned the room, searching the sea of khaki and blue for her father's face.

"He's not here yet. He'll be here shortly." I sat down and nodded for Bridget to get Theresa settled in the seat closest to me.

"Mrs. Calavicci?" Lieutenant Commander John Borgen, one of the instructors, had come up to us. "Commodore Ipstitch and Commander Calavicci should be arriving any minute. Once the Commodore finishes his remarks, you and your daughters can move to stand behind Commander Calavicci." He noticed my anxious glance at the girls, and he smiled. "I'll keep an eye on them while you're pinning him."

I smiled back, "Thanks."

Borgen's attentive ears pricked at the sound of approaching footfalls and he moved to the doorway and called out, "Stand by." He glanced out briefly to confirm and then drew into a stiff posture. "Atten-hut!" The room fell silent and everyone snapped to attention a second before Commodore Joseph Ipstitch and Al walked into the room. Al blinked at the sight of the full room, his eyes sweeping across the assembly until they fell on me and the girls. He grinned briefly at us when the Commodore ordered everyone at ease. The two of them drew near to a lecture podium positioned at the front center of the room, a small table to the left of it. Al stood to the right of the podium while the Commodore took his place behind it and cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for coming," began Commodore Ipstitch. "Your presence here illustrates just how valued Commander Calavicci is. I couldn't have asked for a better Chief Staff Officer, and I know the rest of the command will agree with me on that. It's my delight and my privilege to not only be present at his promotion to captain, but to take part in it. Commander Calavicci's family is here, I see." He nodded and smiled in our direction. "I'm sure they're very proud."

"We are!" interjected Bridget loudly. The room was filled with a rumble of chuckles, and Al lifted a hand to his mouth and coughed, unable to stifle the smirk. Michele gave her twin a scandalized stare.

Grinning, Ipstitch continued with his remarks, praising Al's dedication to the command as well as to their students. He concluded, "Therefore, it gives me great pleasure to administer the oath."

Master Chief Watters moved to the table and called out, "Attention to orders."

I rose, carrying Theresa and nudging Bridget and Michele into motion. We crossed to stand just behind Al as Commodore Ipstitch moved forward to stand opposite him. They each raised their right hand, and Commodore Ipstitch asked Al to repeat the oath after him line by line.

"I, Albert Calavicci, do solemnly swear

That I will support and defend

The constitution of the United States

Against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

That I will bear true faith

And allegiance to the same;

That I take this obligation freely,

Without any mental reservation

Or purpose of evasion;

And that I will faithfully discharge

The office on which

I am about to enter,

So help me God."

The twins started to politely applaud, but I reached down to still their hands and subtly shook my head at them. Commodore Ipstitch nodded at me, and I put Theresa down and joined him to stand before Al. Al stared directly ahead as we removed the rank insignia from his collar and handed them to Watters, who held out the small eagles to us. Ipstitch took one and passed me the other. While the commodore fastened the new rank insignia on Al's left collar, I slipped the pin into the holes left by the old insignia and affixed the frogs to the back. Al slid his eyes toward me and quickly winked then returned his gaze to center as Ipstitch and I stepped back.

Applause broke out and I beamed proudly at Al. Excitedly, the girls clapped and cheered. The enlisted man taking pictures knelt and snapped a photo of their enthusiasm, smiling up at us as he rose to his feet.

"Captain?" Ipstitch smiled as he handed Al a pen to sign the paperwork. Al signed with a flourish while the photographer snapped. Once the paperwork was signed, applause filled our ears again, and we were arranged into a formal pose. Commodore Ipstitch and Al shook hands and held the paperwork while the girls and I were grouped beside Al. After that a few pictures were taken of Al and Ipstitch alone, then a family photo. Finally, Ipstitch turned to Al and asked if he'd like to say a few words. Smiling, Al turned to face the assembled command.

"This is one of the best groups of people I've ever had the privilege to serve with, and I want to thank you all for sharing this moment with me. It means a lot. You are all so dedicated and organized that it makes my job a lot easier. It's an honor to serve alongside you." He turned to indicate me and the girls. "I want to thank my family, too. My wife and my daughters have supported me every step of the way, and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't be standing here right now. And, finally, I'd like to thank Commodore Ipstitch. It's a pleasure to serve under you, sir."

Cheers and applause followed Al's remarks. Ipstitch shook his hand again, followed by the master chief, then Borgen, and then the assembled group filed toward the front to congratulate Al and shake his hand. In a small pause between people, Al leaned toward me and whispered, "Glad you made it."

"We almost didn't," I whispered back, pausing to smile and thank an aviator. In the next pause, I added, "Your daughters got into my makeup."

Al leaned forward to check their faces and raised his eyebrows inquisitively before thanking the commander now shaking his hand. "You'll have to tell me that story later," he said as the next man in line extended a hand for him to shake.

"I wish you'd taken a picture," laughed Al when I finished describing the way the twins had looked.

"I could have brought them to the ceremony done up like that so you could see them firsthand and have it immortalized in film. Wouldn't that look great in the newsletter?"

"Good point. Still, I'd have liked to have seen that."

"We barely made it to the room before you did as it was. Besides, I'm sure they'll manage to get into my makeup again."

"No doubt about that!"

I snorted and shook my head. To change the subject, I fingered the small eagle rank insignia I'd pinned to his khaki collar that morning.

"It suits you."

He grinned and covered my hand with his. "You suit me." He leaned forward and kissed me.

"Daddy!" A loud shriek interrupted us, and Bridget and Michele dashed in, waving papers at him. "We drew you a pictcha!"

"A 'pictcha', huh?" he grinned, reaching out to take them. "Tell me about it."

Theresa toddled in while Bridget looked at the picture on top. "That one's mine." She pointed at the stick figures in it. "That one's Mommy, and that's me, and that's Sheli. And that's Resa. And that's you."

I put Theresa in my lap and glanced at the picture. "What's that all over Daddy's arms?"

She looked at me as if I was stupid. "Feathers."

"Feathers?" Al and I exchanged a confused look. "Why do I have feathers, Bree?"

Exasperated, she put her hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. "Because…the man in the hall said you were a bird today!"

I hooted with laughter while Al snorted and chuckled. "This one's going to the office on Monday."

"What bout mine?" demanded Michele.

"Oh yes," said Al, swiftly switching pictures to put Michele's on top. He grinned at her. "No feathers, I see. So tell me about this one."

"It's you after Mommy and that man changeded your pins. You're smiling because you're happy."

"Who's this?"

"That man."

"He's not smiling."

"I think he stucked himself with the pin," Michele explained.

Al chuckled. "Is this Mommy?"

"Uh-huh. She's proud of you. And this is us, and we're proud of you, too."

Pointing to the bottom of the page, Al asked, "And what are all these loops at the bottom?"

"That's all the people who came to see you."

He reached to kiss them both. "Thank you, girls. I really like these. We'll put them on the refrigerator until Monday when I take them to work with me."

"Okay," they beamed, then skipped out of the room. Theresa squirmed out of my lap and waddled after them.

"I didn't put the girls down for a nap today," I said. "So hopefully they'll fall asleep earlier than usual tonight."

"Oh?"

The curious grin spreading across Al's face turned salacious when I answered him.

"Well, you know, I've never slept with a captain before."

Author's Note: This chapter owes an enormous debt of gratitude to Ann Marie Marvin for procedural information and accuracy checking. --JLR