Braces...take 1

Yesterday was the day I've been dreading since her teeth started coming in.  Eva got braces.  Well...only on her top four front teeth.  But still, they're braces.  And, in a couple of weeks, she will be getting a palate separator.  Doesn't that just sound barbaric?  Anyway, it just breaks my heart that Eva is the first one to get these.  Yes, her teeth have been obviously in need of braces since she had more than two of them.  Yes, she's been sucking her thumb since birth.  And, yes, I know she'll be thankful later.  But she was so stressed out about it!  For anyone who doesn't know, Eva has been diagnosed with selective mutism and fairly serious anxiety issues.  Without going into details (as that is her personal story), I will just say that this was extremely difficult for her.

the last picture with naked teeth I'll have for a long time

She chose brackets in two different colors.  Purple (her favorite color) and green (my favorite).  She is the sweetest child ever.  Then she got pink rubber bands (Maya's favorite color).  Though I don't think they let her choose that because she really doesn't like pink.  I held her shaking hands and rubbed her trembling legs while they glued the brackets on.  And, forty five minutes later, we were done.

Eva is the first person in our family to ever have braces, so none of us knew what to expect.  While she was at school, I made her favorite soup and some ice cream because I was afraid her mouth would hurt too much to chew anything.  Apparently, however, she may only be a little sore the second day.  Unfortunately, she was up almost all night worried and anxious.  My fingers are crossed that no one at school makes her uncomfortable about this.  Since she's only seven, she doesn't know anyone else with braces.  I tried to reassure her that, when everyone else is just starting down this road, she'll already be almost done.  In the second grade, that doesn't help much.

I can only hope that she'll handle this the way she does most things.  With a smile in her eyes and a gentle heart.

It took 8.76 miles

The safety and well-being of my children is not up for debate, discussion, misinterpretation or miscommunication.  Period.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not the most laid-back person in the world.  However, as quickly as I am to anger, I am fairly quick about getting over things too.

Unless you mess with my children.

So, when I walked Maya into preschool this morning and discovered that the preschool classroom was devoid of adults, that was a problem for me.  We pay a lot of money to send her to the best preschool I could find.  It is well beyond our budget, but it was a great experience for Eva.  So, we scrape the tuition together every month.  With this absurd amount of money, we pay for three teachers to be in charge of the class.  This morning, only one of those teachers could be found, and she was just opening the front door for the four year olds to wander through.

No one made sure they went to the right class.
No one made sure they weren't hurting themselves or others.
No one made sure they weren't burning the school down.
or choking.
or crying.
or scared.
or that there wasn't a random adult in the room with them.
Nothing.

I don't usually walk Maya all the way in to the big classroom.  She likes it when I walk her inside to her coat hook, hug her, and get on my way.  But this morning I had to pay the tuition, so she agreed to let me walk her all the way inside.  This is the only way I knew what was happening. So, all of the parents who dropped their kids off at the door or left them at their coat hooks had no idea that they were sending their babies in to -------- no one.  These are four year old kids... not the most independent of our species.  After ten minutes and one other mother walking in to find the teachers MIA, the lead teacher wandered in and wondered aloud where the others were.  She didn't believe me that the kids were unattended.  She looked behind bookshelves like we were playing a big game of hide-and-seek.  I'm not kidding.  Finally, after going to get a teacher from another class to watch our preschoolers, one of the missing teachers wandered around the corner.  By the time I left, all three of the people who were supposed to look after my four year old were accounted for.  Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my peace of mind.

I was shaking when I finally pulled out of the parking lot.  My blood pressure was set to boiling.  It took an 8.76 mile run before the homicidal visions were blurred in my head.

I want to believe this was a one time thing, as the email waiting for me after my run said.  But, I don't take chances with the safety and well-being of my girls.

And that is not up for debate, discussion, misinterpretation or miscommunication.  Period.

I would do anything for you.  I would play any role for you.

When you're sad, I want to make you laugh.  You can count on me to say the first thing that pops into my head to make you laugh so hard you spit out your milk (or your problems, whichever is necessary).

When you're pissed off, I want to kick their ass... unless it's me, then you'll just have to get in line with all the other people who are mad at me.

I will help you connect the dots.  Then I will go back and erase the lines if you're not ready to see the whole picture.

When you succeed, I will be the loudest cheerleader on the sidelines - just ask anyone within ten miles of one of Eva's soccer games.

When you make a decision that I disagree with, I will keep my mouth shut and my fingers crossed.  Because, ultimately, this is your life and I'm just along for the ride until you kick me off.

If you fail, I will pick you up off the ground, dust you off, and help you find a better way to get the job done.

I am loyal to the end and committed to a fault.  Whatever you need, I will be right there with my bag of tricks.  Or a box of cookies - whatever is called for.

And, I will love doing all of this for you.  You will never hear me complain about taking care of you. 

But, sometimes, I wish you knew that the one who's pulling out all of the stops to take your mind off of your troubles could use a laugh herself.  That the one who will drop everything to help carry your load, sometimes has too much on her shoulders already.  That I would never tell you this because that might make you stop coming to me for help.  And, sometimes, the hand reaching out for my help is the only hand I've seen in months.

I am a strong, independent thinker.

I couldn't care less who thinks I should dress more "appropriately".  Your ideas on my choice of style (or lack thereof) don't effect me at all.  I don't care what you think of what I serve my family to eat or how I keep my house.  You have absolutely no say in any of the thoughts that swirl around in my head.

With one exception.

I care deeply about how I'm doing raising my girls.  And, when it comes to the kind of job I'm doing, I constantly compare myself to those around me.  I know they say that you won't know how you did as a mother until your children are grown, but I believe you get a pretty good idea when looking at the kids around you.

Now, don't get me wrong, I definitely have the cream of the crop of children.  My concern comes in when I'm trying to decide how badly I'm screwing them up.  To make this assessment, I need look no further than some of the moms of my girls' friends.

It is a veritable plethora of "Super Moms".  They work, they have successful marriages, and they have amazing kids.  They are the moms who welcome sleepovers at a moment's notice.  I have yet to have a single sleepover.  I would like to think it's because none of the girls have ever asked for one, but I know it's mostly because I don't need more girls in my house.  I feel like I'm living in a perpetual slumber party... no sleeping, lots of squealing, and plenty of "spa nights".  They are the moms who are raising kids who request donations to their favorite charities instead of presents.  If I even suggested that idea to my kids, they would think I had been abducted and replaced by a total moron.  They don't need any crap, but crap is what they desire every chance they get.  They are the moms who don't blink an eye when their child wants to sign up for yet another activity.  I am nearing my limit simply with two in Girl Scouts, one in dance, one in band, art club & a choir group, two in CCD, and one in soccer.  The moms who have it all together intimidate me.  And I really don't intimidate easily.

It is these women that make me stop when I want to choke myself for agreeing to make two different runs to three different schools in the morning so that Sofia could join the choir group.  Without these women around, unknowingly keeping me in check, I would have thrown in the towel by now.  And, while I know that I will never be the mom that all the other kids want to hang with, I use them as my inspiration to keep trying not to screw up the perfection I was blessed with in my kids.  Or, at the very least, hide it better.

Run #7

I'm up to 5.67 miles.  Not too bad for only being the eighth time I've ever run anywhere in my life.  (Seriously, in High School I was the kid who wrote their own note to get out of participating.  I never once did that stupid mile-run for the state assessment.)

Now, here's the problem:  I hurt my foot.  Actually, I hurt it while I was stretching after last Friday's run.  I thought it would feel better in the morning.  It didn't, but I did my Saturday run anyway.  (I'm super smart like that!)  Now, five days later, it still hurts.  I don't know what exactly I did, but the arch of my left foot hurts every time I take a step.  Unfortunately, I am one of those people who takes commitments very seriously.  I am determined to run three mornings a week.  I am determined to extend the run at least once a week.  I am determined to do this until there is ice covering the streets.  So, I will hobble through these damn runs if it kills me.  I want to say it's something profound or spiritual.  But, really, I am just incredibly hard headed and refuse to be beaten by anything - even my body.

So, I was slower today (5.6 mph average speed, 10:37 min/mi.).  In my defense though, in addition to the terrible pain in my stupid foot, it was also drizzling and cold.  And, I only saw one other person out running today (the hardcore lady I see everytime... she even has the fancy running paraphenalia.)  So, I feel like I accomplished something today. 

I would like to thank Stacy for texting me twice this morning so I could walk for a minute, I really needed that.  And, a special thank you to Kim for texting me yesterday morning because she thought yesterday was Wednesday.  At least she tried! 

And, if I could do this... anyone can get up and exercise a little today. 

Don't do it because I SAID so...

Because I know what it feels like to be at the bottom of everyone's list, I know that I will always put my girls at the tippy-top. 

Because I've been pushed down stairs, I know that it doesn't matter how big the opponent, I can put up a fight with the best of them.

Because I've been looked in the eye, I know it's possible to carry on a conversation with a man who isn't staring at your chest.

Because I know how to celebrate "new" clothes when they come home with my mother in a black trash bag, I know my kids can learn to appreciate what we can afford to give them.  Because, regardless of the label, at least they still have tags on them.

Because I have had to run to the neighbor's to call 911 when a man was choking my mother, I know I have it in me to save a life.

Because that same man was welcomed back into our home less than 48 hours later, I know I have it in me to take one too.

Because, less than a year after that, I was moved into that man's house, I know that it's possible for a mother to put anyone ahead of her child.

Because I have waited (more than once) for a father that didn't show up, I know that waiting on someone to whisk you away is time wasted.

Because I have had burned fingers with habaneros and eyeballs with jalapenos, I know to put on gloves every time I mess with them now.

Because I have cleaned vomit off of the ceiling, play-dough out of hair, and you-don't-want-to-know-what out of air vents, I know I can do anything given enough Lysol and deep breaths.

Because I have felt the warmth of my newborn babies' breath on my chest, I know what it means to love so much you can't breathe. 

Because I have seen real struggle, felt real loss, and witnessed absolute weakness, I know all people are capable of anything in any given situation.

Because I have watched someone I loved with all I had walk away, I know he didn't take the sunrise with him.

Because I have felt the sting of betrayal, I know I could never be that cruel.

Because I have tried my hardest and failed, I know that falling on my face won't kill me... even when I wish it would.

Because I have stood on my own two feet, I know I'll never need to step on anyone else's toes to make it to my destination.

And, because I know how hard lessons can be, I know to get them the first time whenever possible.


So, when I tell my children "Because I said so." I really mean, "Because I've done it before, and I know what's coming.  So, as much as I want you to follow your own path, I don't want you running into the same traps and walls.  I learned those lessons so that you don't have to."  Otherwise, every stumble I had in my life was for nothing.  And, I don't think I could live with that.

I still don't get it, but...

Day #4 of the running thing.    I'm up to 4.3 miles.  49 minutes.  Average speed 5.5 mph.  Steepest hill 614 ft. elevation.  (Can you tell I really like the app on my phone?)  However, the stupid thing says I only burned 430 calories.  No way!!  It was at least a cheesecake.  Anyway, I don't think the run today was too bad considering I'm still trying to get over this insane cold Maya brought home from school last Friday.

Here are some random thoughts I had this morning:

• If I'm going to continue this running thing, maybe I should get some exercise pants that fit.  Running while trying to hold up your pants is annoying.  However, having them fall down in front of the firehouse would definitely have me thinking twice about calling 911 if my house catches fire.
• No... cute running shoes sure do not make it more fun.
• Listening to my I-Pod while running means I don't want to talk to you - not that I can't hear you.  So, to the witches  lovely ladies that I passed this morning, !@#$ you. 
• This competitive streak may kill me.  Or at least give me a serious cramp.
• This unexplained spinal pain may be my body's way of telling me to stop.  But, pushing through it is my way of telling the doctor who messed up my first epidural to kiss my behind.
• Is it wrong to pray for someone to text me so that I have an excuse to walk?  Because, of course I'm carrying my phone just in case the preschool decides to text me that my baby is choking on a cheerio.  Seriously... someone text me!  I just want to walk for a few seconds!
• This is not nearly as fun as my afternoon walks with my favorite sparkly shoed kid.

So, one week (four runs) later, I still don't get why people enjoy this.  I'll keep at it though, if for no other reason than to lap those women two more times.