Be Brave, Mommy

This week Amelia got the equivalent of one of her very first participation trophies in the form of a small, purple certificate and a sticker.  She was much more interested in the sticker, of course, and I felt like, this time, the certificate was more for me.  This hastily filled in certificate proclaimed that Amelia completed her first round of swim lessons in the infant/toddler class offered on the ASU campus. 

Each Tuesday and Thursday for the last five weeks (minus the week when she battled the flu – in April), Amelia and I have hurried to swim class.  We lucked into a small class with a very patient and soft-spoken college student/instructor.  There was not much to the actual class; mostly, we sang songs, practiced kicking, attempted to blow bubbles (which resulted in the drinking of more pool water than is ever recommended), tossed a ball, tried to convince babies and toddlers to try to float, and to Amelia’s absolute delight, jumped in repeatedly.  Because this was an infant/toddler class, I had to swim too.  Well, I had to walk back and forth in the water for thirty minutes, twice a week, holding Amelia.  My job was to help her to be comfortable in the water and facilitate whatever activity we were directed to complete.

Amelia started laughing as soon as we began walking down the steps each time.  She loved the thrill of the not-so-warm water and the anticipation it brought.  She adored splashing and begged for the songs.  Her favorite songs in the water were “Ring Around the Rosy” and “The Hokey Pokey.”  At the end of “Ring Around the Rosy” instead of falling down, she would go under the water.  This was terrifying to me the first few times, but each time, Amelia would shout “again!” as she came up out of the water.  I knew she loved the pool, but I didn’t realize how far her confidence went. 

My Amelia has no fear.  This is not a new revelation.  Sure, there are moments when she is hesitant, but give her a second, and she will dive right in – and as I learned in swim class, literally dive in.  Amelia’s jumps into the pool progressed as the class did.   During the first class (and every class, really) she would beg to jump in again and again.  By the last week of class, she would hold a diving ring and I would pull her into the water with it, rather than holding her hands, so she would have the feel of jumping in without my touch.  Rather than balk at this new arrangement, Amelia insisted that she could do it herself.  I had to convince her to let me catch her and even then, she barely looked as she jumped, hoping to feel a jolt of surprise with the water. 

During our second to last class, we were crossing the pool, trying to practice kicking.  Amelia was attempting to push me away and “do it herself!”  This is not a rare occurrence right now, since she’s twenty-two months old, but of course, I couldn’t let her go in the middle of a pool.  So, I kept my hold on her and continued trying to get across the pool.  I called her “my brave girl” and laughed as she resigned herself to my help. 

Once we made it to the side, the plan was to do a series of jumps into the water.  This particular class was the one in which our instructor introduced the diving rings to foster more independent jumping.  I know my eyes widened as the idea was presented and I took a deep breath.  After convincing Amelia that we could use the pink ring (she wanted the yellow one and colors are very important right now, although at this point the excitement of jumping into the pool triumphed), she readied herself to jump.  Somehow, she must have felt my hesitancy.  Precociously, she stopped and smiled at me.  “Be brave, Mommy!” she shouted just before she jumped.

In the moment, I laughed and caught her, just before her head went under.  Looking back, it felt like one of the first times that our roles were reversed.  Here she was, the one who was learning something new, trying something that could be scary, and I needed her reassurance.  My job was to help her to be comfortable and she was comforting me.  She was forcing me to see that she was ready.  She couldn’t wait to take the next step; whether she knew it or not, she just needed me to be there to catch her once she jumped.   That won’t always be the case, I know.  These moments, this independence will pop up more and more often, sometimes unexpectedly and sometimes in situations that I have both dreaded and hoped for since before she was born. 

Sometimes, I will help her to be brave, to find her courage, her confidence.  No matter what, I’ll do my best to be there to catch her.  Even so, I know that sometimes, my brave girl will have to once again say, “be brave, Mommy.”

And the jolts just keep on coming...

I know that I’ve been heavy on the parenting thoughts lately, but bear with me once more.  I was so many things before I was a mother and I am still most of those things, but motherhood is still my newest title even almost two years in. 

Amelia is growing in so many ways; growing up, growing bigger, growing away from us even now, at almost two.  I struggle to foster independence in my toddler when I’m dreading the day when that independence will come to its true fruition.  It’s one of the biggest clichés of parenting; we raise them to leave us.  Of course, I’ve never understood that until truly facing it, how could any of us understand that before it’s our reality?

As all of my realizations seem to, this particular one came to me while I was putting Amelia down for the night.  It’s the time of day when she is the most willing to cuddle, the time when she is the stillest, the time when she wants me to hold her.  This time it was nothing profound, nothing life altering, just a realization that parenting is a series of jolts.  There is nothing smooth or easy about it.  Parenting is more than beautiful in it’s own unique way, but it undeniably shakes things up, daily if not hourly.

Sometimes, it’s the jolt when you think the baby is asleep.  You may have made too much noise as you stood to try to put them down in the crib or you may have sneezed right when they stopped crying or you may have thought they were asleep for thirty minutes when suddenly they start singing the ABCs or reciting all of their new favorite words.

Sometimes, it's the jolting sound of a cry, the cry that only you can differentiate.  When you know it's a serious cry, it cuts straight to the soul.  It's amazing to me that every parent seems to be able to recognize their child's cry and what it means.  I never knew the nuances of a child's cry, or even that there were nuances, until I heard hers.

Sometimes, it’s the jolt of a new skill.  Whether it’s the first time you changed a diaper without thinking too much or your kid mimicked something you said or you realized you’ve stopped counting how many words they know, it’s a jolt.  Time, and with it skills, growth and so much more, slips by more quickly than it’s possible to gauge when you’re watching a person develop every day.

Sometimes, it’s the jolt that today will never repeat itself.  This moment is this moment; it will never happen again.  Your baby will not be a baby for long.  My toddler is battling her way toward full-on childhood, no matter what I do.  It’s my job to ease the transition, to help her along the way, to foster those skills, that independence, the wonder of the world around her, the love in and around her.

Sometimes, it’s the jolt about yourself.  When you think about who you are, suddenly, parent is the first qualifier that comes to mind.  I don’t know when the transition happened, but it did. 

I could go on and on and on.  The jolts, the realizations, the changes, seem to come every day.  Parenting is never what you expect and honestly, that is part of what I love about it.  I don’t know what’s coming and that can make it hard to let go of the present.  This adventure is just that, an adventure.  An adventure that is un-slow-able and unstoppable, just as it is bumpy, unexpected and full of jolts. 

Not My Daughter...

A few weeks ago, I found myself in Amelia’s room in the middle of the night.  The actual middle of the night, the time when it feels like you’re the only one awake in the world.  This doesn’t happen much anymore, but on this particular night, I was rocking Amelia back to sleep.  It was a rarity in several ways, not least of which that I was completely at peace about being there, about rocking my toddler for a few more minutes.  It won’t last for much longer, even at those times.

            Anyway, the hum from her sound machine was not helping me to keep my eyes open.  I have this fear that if I close my eyes while I’m holding her and let myself drift off, I’ll either end up spending much more time than I intended in that glider or I might drop her.  That would completely counteract all of the effort being put into getting her back to sleep.  So, I did what any of us would do in that situation. I turned to Facebook.  It’s funny how at moments like this, the most innocuous of Facebook articles that have been posted, shared or liked jump out so much more than they do in the light of day.  I had no discrimination in that moment for what I was reading.  In between articles about whatever pop culture phenomenon had seventeen things I didn’t know about it, I clicked on a post from a friend of a friend of a friend.

            This particular mom shared her story about what she believed was a run-in with a sex trafficking operation in a grocery store.  She felt that they were targeting her toddler age daughter and warned other parents who might take their children shopping alone.  This mom went into detail about how this might happen and her fear in those moments, feeling like her daughter was even on their radar.  I will never know if her fears were true, if her assumptions about the people in that store were accurate or if the worst could have happened had any of the minute details been different.  In spite of all that uncertainty, that post got under my skin.  As any parent knows, losing your child, in whatever way it might happen, is a constant, under the surface fear. 

            My first reaction was to insist to myself that I would not let anything happen to Amelia.  I immediately began to think through how I would have reacted, what I would have done, how I would protect her, keep her safe.  Just like Nemo’s dad, Marlin, I blindly, but with good intentions, assured myself that I would never let anything happen to her.  I feel that that was the reaction I should have had.  Amelia has been put in my care; she is my daughter, and she will always be my priority.  That’s a good thing.

          The more I have thought and thought and though about this, though, I have come to a conclusion that I always knew and yet never felt quite so tangible.  It can’t just be “not my daughter” (to quote Molly Weasley).  I pray that it will never be my daughter and I will continue to do everything in my power to continue that reality.  However, we can’t let it be anyone’s daughter.  Or sister.  Or mother.  Or cousin.  Or friend.  Or niece.  Or acquaintance.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it best when he said, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

            We will not improve our society or end the very real horrors of sex trafficking and other atrocities of our country and our world if we only look out for ourselves.  We are a global community and it’s time that we started acting like it.  We have been given an opportunity to change the world for the better, for good.  Wasting that chance is simply not an option.  I have an amazing daughter who will change the world; it’s my responsibility to show her how to change it in a good way.  What kind of role model or teacher would I be if I showed her, by word or action or vote, that building walls , figuratively or literally, between people is an answer?

Science and the Oscars

As some of you know, and others don't, the Academy Awards have a special place in my life. Not only does it remind me of the many hours I spent working at a Blockbuster Video. Yes, there used to be actual brick and mortar stores that rented videos to customers. They even had VHS...these are tapes. I was there for the transition to DVDs. Anyways...I digress.

The Oscars serve as a yearly reminder to me that I'm able to walk, because of God. In God's infinite wisdom, science was created, and all of the tools at the doctors' disposal were used to repair my back. So, I'm going to give you a few of the reasons that I love science, and The Martian.

I love that we live in the time of the large hadron collider. If you don't know what it is, Google: large hadron collider. This amazing machine is a 27km tunnel composed of superconducting magnets that allows scientists to measure and observe the smallest particles that humans have seen. Essentially, they're looking for what could resemble the big bang, and what the, for lack of a better word, Force is. "The Force is what binds the galaxy together." - Ben Kenobi

A little over 2 weeks ago scientists observed the effects of 2 black holes colliding in space over 1 billion light years away from Earth. What the scientists observed confirmed another piece of Einstein's Theory of General Relativity, that gravity acts more like waves than was previously thought. Stephen Hawking has said that this provides us with a new way of looking at the universe. Maybe this will provide us with the information we need to embark upon light travel, and visit other planets or galaxies...see Interstellar.

The last line of The Martian is: "At some point, everything's gonna go south on you... everything's going to go south and you're going to say, this is it. This is how I end. Now you can either accept that, or you can get to work. That's all it is. You just begin. You do the math. You solve one problem... and you solve the next one... and then the next. And If you solve enough problems, you get to come home." Science allows us to solve problems. Keep solving problems. Don't get distracted.

God has set all of this in motion. I'm curious to see where it leads. We have immense knowledge at our disposal to provide water to the thirsty, explore the expansive universe, shelter the refugee, heal the sick, and restore the hurting. Science is a tool at our disposal, and we should continue to be mystified by how much we don't know.

Here's the first 'full-view' photo of Earth from space. Ponder that for a moment.

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/wallpaper/photography/photos/milestones-space-photography/earth-full-view/

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue...

For those of you who don’t truly know me (if there are any readers who fit that description), I absolutely adore holidays of any kind.  If I can celebrate it, I’m in.  I like special occasions, large or small, acknowledged by others or not, half birthdays included.  I will admit that Leslie Knope, with her color coded binders, gifts for every day of the year and seemingly unending time to devote to these celebrations, definitely has me beat in the celebrating things category.  However, not many people do.

      So, this week has been book-ended by two celebratory events; Super Bowl Sunday and Valentine’s Day.  Ironically, these are two “special” occasions that many people either choose to ignore or choose to loudly and actively criticize.  To each their own and all of that.  I will not claim that these two days of the year, like all days of the year, do not have their faults.  Super Bowl Sunday especially has dark secrets that need to be brought to mainstream consciousness and addressed. 

      That being said, we did have a Super Bowl party, but our only Valentine plans involve going to see what will, of course, be an instant classic and Oscar contender, Zoolander 2. 

      My point in this particular rambling is not to say that we should make a huge production of everything or that we should engage in stress related to decorations, gifts or planned celebrations.  My point is that we have so many things in life and in our neighborhood, town, country and global community that are stressful, so many days that don’t go the way we want, so many tough situations/sicknesses/losses/fights to overcome, so many tragedies.  As far as I’m concerned, we don’t take enough time to celebrate.  Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, any and every day is given to us as an opportunity to be thankful, to look back over the experiences we’ve had and to mark that time. 

      I would be remiss if I didn't at least acknowledge that today is Ash Wednesday.  This is another day in which we mark time.  I understand and appreciate how important it is to be aware of days that aren't necessarily celebrations, but are observances.  Ash Wednesday reminds us that from dust we come and to dust we will return.  Ash Wednesday, though, also reminds us that we are participating in a season where we are lucky to know that Sunday is coming.  Easter Sunday, with all of it's wonder, joy and love is coming...

      Back to my not-so-serious rambling of the day...Valentine’s Day is one of those celebrations where people have the misguided notion that if they aren’t in a romantic relationship, then they can’t celebrate.  Not true!  I couldn’t and wouldn’t argue that candy and greeting card companies are benefiting from this holiday, but that doesn’t have to take away from what this day can be.  It can truly be an opportunity to celebrate love; love that could be romantic or friendship based or familial or agape or any other relationship you can claim.  It can be a chance to celebrate love that has been, that will be or that could be, not just that currently is.  So, celebrate!  After all, it is Valentine’s Day Eve-Eve-Eve-Eve!

That's Not How "The Force" Works

      Like most of the country, we have been swept up in Star Wars mania with the release of the new chapter in Star Wars, “The Force Awakens.”  Adam had a Star Wars themed 34^th birthday and Christmas.  We saw the movie on opening night in the lovely Boone movie theater.  BB-8 has become a fixture in our house.  Amelia’s vocabulary contains both “BB-8” and “Star Wars.”  I can’t say that it’s all because of Adam, but he is, in this case, the ringleader.  I’ve heard praise and complaint about “The Force Awakens.”  In our theater, people applauded so much during our first viewing that we actually missed some dialogue and I feel like it’s a safe bet to say that this audience absolutely loved it.  It was exactly what I wanted in this particular Star Wars movie.  I now have different expectations for the next release.

     Now that I’ve seen seven Star Wars films, six of them more times than I care to admit in this post, there are quite a few themes that I’ve noticed, quite a few things I’ve put together.  While I could wax poetically about the force and drone on for longer than any of you would read, I will concentrate on “The Force Awakens” for the time being.  Going back to a galaxy far, far away can teach us a few things.  Here is what I learned from “The Force Awakens”…

1. Never walk on a suspended bridge inside an Empire or First Order ship, especially not if someone else has a lightsaber.  There are no nets to catch you under those things and it’s a pretty safe bet that if someone has a lightsaber, they’re not afraid to use it.

2. A lightsaber going through snow sounds just as awesome as when it goes through anything else.

3. We can’t just hope to use the force when we don’t have a plan.  As Han Solo so eloquently put it “that’s not how the force works.”

4. Rey’s ability to use the force to tell people to do things is already creepier/stronger, albeit more awkward, than Obi Wan Kenobi’s “this is not the droid you’re looking for.” 

5. All evil ships have trash compactors on board.  

6.  There’s always a way to blow things up.

7. If you don’t want to be found, you shouldn’t leave a map.

8. Three buns going down the back of your head rather than one on each side might not be as iconic, but is much more practical for fighting the evils of the galaxy.

9. Rey deserves her own action figure.

10. As long as there’s light, there’s hope.

The Cone of Shame

At the beginning of this week, we nearly lost Scout.  She ended up having to have emergency bladder surgery to remove what the vet called “countless” bladder stones, one of which was large enough to keep her from “doing her business.”  We were given the choice of putting her down, allowing her to suffer an incredibly painful and slow death, or opting for the emergency surgery.  Scout was in significant and relentless pain at this point.  Whether or not you think you would pay for emergency surgery for a dog is not the question.  I do find it hard to believe that, given our situation, you wouldn’t.  Scout is a young(ish) dog and is otherwise healthy.  She is also a part of the family.  Given the choice of spending money we do not have and losing Scout, our decision was a no-brainer.

                  Scout did her part to add to the string of health issues that our family has gone through over the past several months.  She kept up with me and had surgery (although mine wasn’t life threatening and wasn’t emergency, so maybe she “wins”).  Anyway, as is the case with all surgeries, regardless of who is going through it, there is a recovery period.  Right now, our pitiful little Scout, has several shaved patches of fur, is taking quite a few medications, has had to drastically change her diet permanently and, worst of all, is wearing a cone to make sure she doesn’t inadvertently hurt her recovery chances.  This particular health issue, while not unheard of in dogs, is somewhat rare.  We haven’t gotten word yet about what type of stone they removed.  If it is one specific type, it will most likely come back.  If it is another, it will be easier to control.

                  I hate that we didn’t realize she was uncomfortable or even in pain until the day that it peaked.  While she wasn’t facing extreme pain until that day, she was stoically dealing with discomfort and some bouts of pain.  She never whined about it at all until it became too much for her.  Thankfully, it wasn’t too late.  We’ll figure out the ramifications of it all later. 

Amelia, while hesitant of the cone, has told everyone that Scout has a big boo-boo.  She is being as gentle as a nineteen month old can muster and Scout, as always, is being unbelievably patient.