Lifeline 

A few years ago I wroteA phone call about how one phone call can change your world. 

Today I got a phone call that changed mine. It isn’t my story so that details aren’t mine to share. But I can share the part to of the story that is mine.

Today I was on a call in which I was a lifeline. God help us all when I am the voice of reason, the one asked to reach another person, the one that has to be compassionate and logical. I can do one or the other but not both. Certainly not at the same time. I don’t have a large peripheral vision for things that I don’t understand. I am never anyone’s saving grace. It’s not my nature to not have an opinion or to hold back. 

But today I had to. 

Someone needed me. Not my opinions, not my bias, not my thoughts or my morals. They needed to be heard. And helped. And I was on the other end of the phone. Me.

A person is a person. No matter who we are or where we are from we all have a basic need: to be loved. To be cared for. To be accepted. Basic and simple but vital. And at rock bottom someone reached out and got me….me…me…and I had to provide. 

I had to hear-not just listen but really HEAR. I had to put away any pre-conceived thoughts or feelings I may have had. I had to accept and protect and respect someone’s vulnerability. Do you know how hard that is to do? 

When faced with hard things we tend to want to look around for someone else to shoulder the load or carry the burden. There was no one else today. I got the call and I had to answer. It was as plan and as terrifying as that. 

What do you say when someone has lost their way? What does a stranger do when another stranger reaches out and says I am lost and afraid? 

I am afraid too many of us say “sorry. Busy. Leave a message. Gotta run. Can’t help. Got my own issues,” or any combination there of. I get it. It’s hard to take on someone’s burden. It’s hard to shoulder someone’s load when you feel like you are carrying all you can carry. It’s hard to know what to say. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. 

Truth is that our burdens just might pale in comparison to those being carried by others. And maybe that scares us a bit. Maybe. 

You don’t have to believe what others believe to be kind. You don’t have to understand everything to be able to listen. I learned something else today: you don’t always have to be able to fix something to be helpful. Sometimes things can’t be fixed but you help just by being on the other end of the phone. 

You can’t always be prepared or trained to do what has to be done. Sometimes you have to simply be present. Just being there is all that has to be done. There are times when you need only to be still and be present. 

Each of us bears some cross. Usually we bear the weight alone. No one notices the struggle; no one sees those around them collapsing under the weight. We don’t ask for help. We don’t. We keep going and moving and become obsessed with the weight we have. 

I am guilty! Stressful job, busy life, disappointments, frustrations…I let them take over and I become so intent on managing all of it that I forget to notice those around me that are suffering. It’s not that I do not care. It’s just that I am so focused on getting by carrying my weight that I don’t even see those around me struggling with theirs anymore. 

And then there are burdens being carried that I don’t even know exist. Issues I don’t realize carry the impact that they do. But they are there. They exist. 

Today I was in a position to help someone. A stranger. A person struggling under weight I will never, ever comprehend or understand. But that didn’t stop me from trying. Because in the end we all just want to be loved, heard and to matter. Regardless of who we are, where we are from or what we believe. 

I hope I did that for someone today. 

Advertisements

Tomorrow 

“I’ll be 15 tomorrow!” You practically squeak with excitement. “I’ll be driving this time tomorrow!!!!”

Oh be still my heart. 

I’ve been through 15 before…it’s a beginning for you and an ending for me. It’s the start of your independence and the end of my being needed.

I am as excited for you as I am sad for me. 

My feisty, smart, sweet and sassy girl. You continue to amaze me and delight me. Age has mellowed your edges and allowed your soul to shine. While you are still contankerous at times-you balance that with the sweetest heart. You are kind and loving; sensitive and thoughtful. Yes, you will argue any point. You don’t back down from a fight and you will defend your position past the point of sanity but, as much as it hurts me to admit, I admire your passion and marvel at your logic. It may try my patience at times but those traits also bring me a little peace about your future. 


I barely recognize the baby you were. Your beauty-inside and out-grows as you do. Picturesque. That is you. Creative. Talented. Spirited. Those are you too. Audacious yet somewhat shy at times…that’s you too. You tackle life head on and succeed at all you do. 

Yet there are times when you are reserved and somewhat timid. Why I can’t imagine. I wish I could show you that you have no need to be hesitant about anything. There is no one and no thing that you can’t conquer. 


Classy has replaced your love of bling and color. Gone are the hi-top silver tennis shoes and mis-matched clothes. No more white glasses. No more knots on top of your head or jaunty accessories. You are sleek and put together now. I miss the little-rag-ga-muffin style but I appreciate the new you. 

Funny. Your wit keeps me on my toes and laughing. Loyal. You tie your heart to people and that’s that. I fear you are going to get hurt but it’s such an amazing trait that I don’t try and warn you off. 

My best buddy on Saturday. My friend when it’s appropriate. My daughter forever. My role model for many things. My reality check a lot of the time. You make my life full and complete. It’s not always easy-you and I-but you have my heart all the time. 

Happy day to you sweet girl. Keep moving forward. Aim high. Dream big. Be bold. Believe. Think “I can” and then do it because you can. There is nothing you can’t do. (Except maybe keep a clean room)

Remember your baby sister looks up to you. She mimics every eye roll, every neck swing and every smirk. Learn to be a little more patient. Not everyone is as quick as you are. Stay humble. Be kind. Cultivate what’s in the inside and the outside will continue to bloom. Keep loving without fear. Quit fearing being unique. Stop eating light a trash can…that will catch up to you one day. Keep friends in every walk of your life. Stay supportive. Keep your competitive edge but learn to lose with grace. Laugh. Your life is infectious. Be you. Always. Stay authentic. Not everyone will get you and that’s okay. Those that matter will. You are not meant to blend in…you are meant to stand out. Don’t let that scare you. 


Tomorrow you will be 15. Tomorrow you start to learn to drive. You gain a little independence. Just don’t forget that you are my little girl and I am not ready for you to not need me yet. 

Love you sweet birthday girl. My mini me!

Mom 

Eighteen

18 years ago I went to bed early. I was 9months pregnant and didn’t sleep well so I ticked myself into the guest bedroom by myself.  

I didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl. I was waiting to be surprised. That night I lay there, in the dark, and thought about you. About me. About what life would be like after your birth day. I didn’t know that the very next morning I would find out. 

You burst into the world quickly. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. My big moment of finding out if you were a boy or a girl didn’t happen. Instead you were whisked away quickly. It wasn’t until I heard a relived nurse say “he’s peeing” that I knew I had a baby boy. 

It seemed like an eternity before I saw you. Just as they were going to put you into my arms something happened. I heard,”code blue” and thought that some poor woman…..and then I didn’t think anything at all. The code was for me. 

Eventually I got to hold you. You looked like a little old man. You were precious. And I fell in love. Right then and right there. 

You became Colton Henry. My Colton Henry. 

And I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. We took you home from the hospital with me sitting on the back seat holding up your head. Your dad and I had purchased a toddler car seat. You didn’t even come up over the front facing protective arm that was meant to keep a toddler safe. I didn’t even know what a carrier was! It was December before I purchased one.

Our first outing it took me over an hour to get out of the house. I was so nervous about having everything that I would need that I forgot to open the gagrage door. Backed right thru it.


Our second outing I couldn’t figure out how to collapse the stroller and had to shove it, fully upright, into the cargo area of the SUV. 

I was a disaster. I tried breastfeeding and failed. I swore you wouldn’t have a pacifier. You showed me. You didn’t have one—you had to have 3! You wet me more then your diapers. You had colic so we spent many an evening on the front porch with both of us crying. 

I was horrible at the whole mommy thing. But I tried. 

Oh how I loved you!  I adored You with your soft little fuzzy head, little unturned nose and that smirk you had, even then. 

Soon you were taking steps… then you were running…and I’ve been chasing you ever since. That’s how it works…from the moment you were born you’ve been growing and walking and learning…all to make your way in the world. And I’ve been chasing you. 


And now you are 18. And I am still chasing and you it seems, are running harder and harder to get away. Out into the world. So anxious to do and be and have all that there is to have. And I want 5 more minutes to be sure I’ve done all I can do to prepare you for the world you so desperately want to conquer. But you don’t want to wait. And to-marn-no (how you used to say tomorrow) you think it’s magically going to happen…this adult thing. 

Here are some things that I don’t think you’ve gotten yet:

  1. Work first and play second.
  2. Save 1/3 of what you earn. 
  3. Be happy with what you have.
  4. Don’t compare yourself to others. 
  5. Don’t let what you want taint what you have. 
  6. Privileges require responsibility. 
  7. You should own, and wear, khakis, dress shoes, a good belt and a blazer. 
  8. Fold your clothes as soon as the dryer is done. 
  9. Believe you can and you are 1/2 way there. 
  10. You can always come home. Your 3 biggest fans will always be there. 

You laugh at me when I say these things, having heard them so often, but take the words and the lessons with you wherever you go.

  1. A good man does the right thing even when no one is looking. 
  2. Mean what you say and say what you mean.
  3. It’s the principle…
  4. Keep dreaming!
  5. Always make the best of every situation.
  6. Life won’t go as planned…so sometimes you have to change plans.
  7. Home is wherever your family is. 
  8. Fair is a 4 letter word and if you are always waiting for fair you will be disappointed. 
  9. Work hard. Work harder than you play. 
  10. Love someone who makes you a better person. 

It may be your birthday but 18 years ago I am the one that got the gift. 18 years ago you made my life complete. You made me a mommy. And of all that I’ve done and all that I will ever do-that is what I am most proud of. Being a mom. Being YOUR mom. You taught me what love is. 

My fella, my sweet, sweet fella. Be bold. Be daring. Find adventure. Have a bucket list and live it. Remember your sisters in your journey. Be strong. Speak what you know. Listen. Lead-don’t follow. Never stop being a gentleman. Open doors, remember your manners and always be respectful. Champion those that are weaker. Strive to be a good person. Do some good. Be kind. Give before you receive. Clean up your mess when you cook. Study. Help someone. Take your sister on a “date” now and then. Read. Love fiercely. Be honest. Always. Believe in something and fight for it. Keep laughing. Keep smiling. Find your happy. 

Dancing with your sister


Thank you for making me a mom. Thank you for all you’ve taught me.
Mom 

How do I rank?

Humbling experiences…we’ve all had them. Tonight I had to sit as my son had one all his own. It was heartbreaking. 

College applications. A young life narrowed down to statistics and facts. For some it’s a reminder of all that’s been done and accomplished. For those that fit easily into little drop down boxes. What about the kids who’s worth is not measured in test scores? How does a GPA show the measure of a man? It doesn’t. Yet this is to tool he must use to have a future. 

At one post in class rankings he said,”I am such an idiot!”

Nothing could be further from the truth. I told him so. But yet he was staring at a number….a black and white number that told him otherwise. 

There is no score for charisma. No ranking for heart. No category for determination. In a those he would excel. Instead he is forced to measure his character in cumulative scores. It’s impossible to quantify character yet that is just what we have to do. 

“And here goes failure. I am not worth $&@/,” he says at the end when the boxes were checked and the numbers all entered. The cursor mocked him from the daunting blank screw titled: essay. 

“You are worth more than you know!” I admonished. His face told me he wasn’t buying it. God how I yearned to take the keyboard and use my words to tell the world who my colton Henry is. But I can’t. This is his story, his tale to tell. 

“What ignites emotion? What shows who you are at your core? What do you want people to know? Write that. We can fix the mechanics. You just give your words,” I encouraged.

He elected to write about a life event that forever changed him. A life event that showed him what he had at his center. He elected to write about his life changing when our lives fell apart. “Us moving,” he said,”that taught me something.”

“I can’t do this with you looking at me. I can’t do it if I have to tell you what I feel,”he admitted. He slipped on his head phones. I slipped off the kitchen chair and onto the floor where I can still see him but he can’t see me. Tap-tap-tap…his fingers are flying. I don’t think he or I expected this flurry of words.

Why I matter in 650 words or less


Will he let me read it? Do I want to?

I am both ashamed and elated that his defining moment is at the worst moment of my own life. Ashamed that I put him in a position for heartbreak. Elated that in his pain he’s found some lesson. Elated that he added,”now I know what I am made of.” I hope his essay is about the strength and grace he showed and continues to show. 

He was starting this essay defeated. The light out of his eyes. The spunk out of his soul. It physically hurt to see him like this. “You have a letter of recommendation to add to the application,” I reminded him. “Maybe you should read it before you start on your essay…just to remind you…” I suggested. 

“You read it first,” he handed me a sealed envelope. He was nervous. Perhaps afraid of what it would say? There was not an ounce of his normal confidence. Not a speck. Not an iota. There wasn’t enough air in the room for me to breathe. Rankings and scores and percentages had robbed us both of something. Him because he felt it summed up his worth and me because it knew that it didn’t but I had no other way of submitting him for a decision. 

I opened the letter. And there, on paper, were words that illustrated my son. Words that captured his essence. Portrayed his character and applauded him for who he was. Simple language and everyday examples of this fella I love so very much. Of course I cried. Of course he called me out on it. I didn’t know how to explain that I was crying with joy that someone else saw all that I see in him. Crying because someone can tell his tale and be heard. Someone  else wants to show the world who my son is. I am grateful. Eternally grateful because the words helped perk him up a bit. An ounce of spark and a bit of twinkle danced backed in his gray eyes. He wasn’t quite so defeated thanks to the special someone who sees him for who he is. 

He’s decided I can’t see his essay. So I still sit on the floor while he’s texting and soliciting advice from professionals. It’s nerve wrecking and painful. My fingers itch to reach up and take the laptop to read what is there. 

But I don’t. 

He’s asked me not to. I am going to respect him. Lord knows he deserves that after being ranked and judged and graded on things that aren’t his strength. Thank goodness for people who see his strength in others places and who are willing to openly remind him…and anyone who will read it…that character isn’t in a gpa.

Red right off

“Girl you look like someone licked all the red off your lollipop!”
And that, ladies and gentleman, sums it all up.
Have you ever had those periods in life where you just can’t seem to get any traction?  
That’s us…my whole little clan. We all seem to be scurrying as hard and as fast as we can and getting nowhere! Scurrying is exhausting. Scurrying in place is frustrating. Exhausted + Frustrated=Meltdown. By all of us.
7:10 no one’s stirring—not even me. Don’t judge. Hot flashes keep me up all night. Why is it that they abate at 6:30a just in time for alarm to go off??????
7:12 I spy Sadie cuddling into my bed—yes, she slept in her own the entire night but was now upset that she didn’t get any time with me. Suck it up buttercup. It ain’t happening this morning. I manhandle her out of my bed—it takes effort. Serious effort.
7:15 meltdown number one…shoes
7:16 meltdown number two…clothes
7:20 meltdown number three…shoes and clothes
7:21 meltdown number four…me melting down about shoes and clothes

7:22 my meltdown provokes another hot flash

7:23 boy gets up and hollers that he’s leaving in 8 minutes. He’s making extra money but taking 2 neighborhood girls to school so I applaud him for rousing the troops to get everyone out on time.

7:24 meltdown number five…ice pack doesn’t fit in the lunchbox. Holy crap…how much lunch does 1 7 year old need? I make it fit.
7:30 meltdown number six…boy is leaving. Prima donna isn’t ready. “get in the truck or walk” is heard.
Then it becomes blissfully quiet. Well expect for the yelping of the dog that is now upstairs. But hey….at least it’s not fighting. NOW I CAN GET READY!!!
7:35 phone dings telling me I have a text. I rush out, buck naked, to look at it. When your babies all drive away and the phone rings you check it. Naked or not. I can’t read the first one for the volley of text that start. Jist: prima donna left her lunch and wants me to bring it to school….uhhh…NO.
7:37ish. Now I am naked—not a pleasant site and irritated. My oldests are proceeding to fight, via text, with me in the mix. At the same time that they are on the group text-fighting she’s texting me pouting because I won’t bring her lunch to school. Uhhh….NO.
By now I know she is livid he won’t turn around and come back to get her lunchbox. Let me point on that he has 3 other people in his truck. 2 of them elementary school students who are late at 7:45 and the car rider line easily takes 13 minutes. She is so livid she hit him and declared he should just go ahead and leave home because no one wants him around anyway. He’s smacked her back on the leg. There are 4 texts about the exact location of the smack…knee vs thigh. Like I care at this point!
7:40ish I am still naked and now am livid. This is not a good mix.   I select a ‘group text’ and tell Ms. Thang that she will be taking the bus if she doesn’t apologize to her brother and that she’d better find out what time it leaves in the morning.
Immediately I am informed, via separate texts, that I’ve selected a group with other people in it. Not long after I am further informed that I have selected a group that contains my sons girlfriend’s mother. I would be mortified but I am standing naked in the kitchen trying to referee this debacle of a morning. My pride doesn’t go much lower. I respond “that’s what you get for all the drama you are causing”. Oh yes, I’ve sunken so low as to make excuses via text for doing something stupid.

8ish sons girlfriend’s mother text me with a smiling emoji

8:05 daughter apologizes to brother via text, “I’m sorry. While you absolutely should not have hit me or been rude when I simply asked you to go back, I shouldn’t have said the things I did and I shouldn’t have hit you back. so I am sorry. This ones on me”. Well if that’s not the sincerest thing I’ve ever heard. (NOT!) I can just hear her ‘simply asked’ and know, from experience, that her tone would have made me want to drive off the road.
Keep in mind that my son is earning extra money by taking 2 neighborhood girls to school; which means there were witnesses to this entire cluster. As if we weren’t the talk of the neighborhood before….
 
Son will be 18 in a few weeks and is suffering from acute senior-itis and a bad case of iwannagetouttahere fever. He’s over and done. He’s stressed 10 days from Sunday about college and getting into college. He’s working, studying (to get into college) and worried about his truck. He trying to get back in swim shape. He has lofty goals this year that I think are worrying him. He’s a mess.
Prima dona is going to be 15 in a few weeks and is feeling like all that and a bag of chips. She’s broken hearted that her brother has iwannagetouttahere and green with envy that he doesn’t want to spend more time with us on his last year home. She is also 15 going on 18 and thinks she has a right to all that being in high school has to offer: dating, constant social appointments, pre-driving so she’s ready to drive when she gets her learners and anything else she can think of. She’s trying to get in swim shape. Is royally pissed about getting an 88 on a math test and is frantically using all of her persuasive powers (which are considerable) to talk the coach in letting their cheer team wear black uniforms instead of the old red ones. This is, evidently, a big deal. Oh-and she’s cheering varsity on Friday and against her boyfriends team on Thursday. She doesn’t handle nerves well. 
Baby mess is a hot mess. She doesn’t do mornings, suggested outfits or rules very well. She also misses her brother, despises her sister bossing her around and totally has my number. School is a struggle. Homework is a struggle. Being alone with mom 92% of the time is a struggle. As she constantly tells me,”today was just a hard day.”
As for me…well, see all the above. Add in hot flashes, extra long working hours and the constant knowledge that everything that happens this year is the LAST. Oh and add that man-child won’t let me help with the college process so I am totally out of the loop. Add to that if he tells me “don’t worry-I got this” re: Said college process I may just lose any ounce of dignity I have left and go bat $&@? In him. Factor in the incredible amount of money required to be a senior and a swimmer and a cheerleader and the mother of an accident prone 7 year old (can we say new tv) Oh-And add in lack of sleep from aforementioned hot flashes.  

Good times. 

So yes…I do, look and feel, like someone sucked all the red off my lollipop. 
 
 

Make it a home 

My girl had a tough day Sunday. 

My fellas gal had a tough day on Friday. 

I couldn’t help either of them. 

But our house is a home and when you have tough times sometimes you just want to be home.

So I opened my home to my kids favorite people. 

It’s not a grand home. It’s not big or roomy or elaborate. It’s shabby, little and eclectic. But it’s also comfortable, cozy and ours. 

I cooked. Actually cooked not warmed up. Stuffed shells. Comfort food. Threw in a salad to pretend to make it a well rounded meal. A whole stick of European butter made the herbed bread sinful! Trader Joe’s sweet biscuits and fresh strawberries make a delectable dessert. A little sparkling cider in pretty wine glasses to make them feel fancy. 

We even hit the high spots so it was presentable. And smelled nice. 

I retreated to my room and let them enjoy. 

My efforts were rewarded with belly laughs and teasing from the other room. My fella and his girl like my girl and her guy. And I like that. I love that the four of them get along and have a good time.  


Now they are out washing cars. Laughing and giggling and all getting along. 

My fella who has been really struggling with the stress of being a senior with big decisions weighing heavy on his little shoulders doesn’t seem as burdened tonight. My girl seems to have forgotten her horrible day yesterday and is beaming. Their beaus seem happy to be here. 

It’s a home tonight. 

That’s what I’ve always wanted. A place to call home. A place to be safe and loved. A place to call ours. It’s not the home I envisioned. It’s not the home I started with. But it’s where we landed…my brood and I. 

Tonight proved that it’s not the size that matters. Any house can be a home. Tonight mine was. And, just like I imagined, it had room for everyone. It was full of laughter and conversation. It may be teen love but it was also full of love tonight. I love that. 

It’s easy to get lost in house envy or caught up in the don’t have’s. It’s easy to say I’ll have people over when it’s cleaner, when I don’t have dogs, when I repainted the dining room or so on and so on. 

Why wait? Spontaneously I offered the invitation today. I didn’t overthink it, didn’t even really think about it. I wanted to be with my bigs today. They wanted to see their loves so I made a quick decision so that we all got what we wanted. 

And I am glad I did. My house was a home tonight. 

Lesser of the evils

Outfits laid out. Snack packed. Folder signed. Glasses in book bag. Boo-yah. Ready to rock this mom thing. 

And then…

She decides to tie her own shoes. 

Yes she is 7. Yes she is in second grade. If you have any thoughts on that I will happily let you borrow her for a few hours to see how well you fare. 

But hey-I was going to rock this mom thing, right. “Great!” I said. 

First try: “almost”

Second try: “so close”

Third try: “ahhh man…you almost had it that time”

Fourth try: “don’t get frustrated! Keep trying”

Fifth try: “oh…you think another pair of shoes might help?”

Sixth try: “okay-we won’t count that one since it’s the first time you’ve tried it with those shoes”

Seventh try: “um hmmmm”

Eighth try: “yes I am watching but I had to put on my shirt!”

Ninth try: “around, around and through…I know you can do it but maybe if I just show you one more time”

Tenth try: “loop, loop, cross and thru….no I didn’t change the way you do it!”

Eleventh try: “aroundandthruaroumdandthruaroundandthru…”

Twelfth try:”let me help. We will try tonight. It’s late.”

Thirteenth try: I did not say “for gods sake let me do it!” I wanted to. But I didn’t.

Fourteenth try: I somehow refrained from banging my head against the wall. “Let me…”

Fifteenth try: “I said LET ME DO IT”

Sixteenth try: “if you don’t come back here…”

Eventually I tied the shoes. Eventually I got her into the car. Yes the teachers might have already gone inside. And yes, that might mean that technically she was late. But if she ran real fast with her tied Tennis shoes she could still make it before the teacher shut the door. That’s what I told her anyway. Technically it was possible even if it wasn’t probable. 

Why yes…being last in the car rider line did indeed put me in bumper to bumper traffic for the pre-k down the road and the middle school. It’s funny how Looooonnnngg lines of cars impact travel times. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I don’t punch a clock any longer. 

And has I known how the day was going to go I might have just stayed home until she tied her own shoes. 

I am pretty sure I got dissed today. Someone saying…oh…that’s your? Think I’ll have it. 

I got called in to handle a situation that had me looking around for a candid camera and someone saying “gotcha”. When that didn’t happen I had to nod in agreement when the person across from me said, deadpan, ‘you can’t make this sh$& up!’

And that was the 2nd issue you could say that about. People are crazy. And stupid. And strange. I mean 10gallons o’ crazy in a 5 gallon bucket. 

And had I known my blood work would come back for my hospitals wellness plan I really would have stayed home until BOTH shoelaces were tied!

It’s dumb to take someone’s blood pressure after they weigh. It wasn’t 200/100 like it was after the japense hornet but it was close. It was bad. It was very bad. 

In case I was a moron and didn’t understand HOW bad the wellness program made sure it was crystal clear. I mean no chance for misunderstanding. No vagueness. No maybe. No kind of. Nope. Straight up. You are obese. And to make matters worse…to add insult to injury…there was the little antimated line that went up, up, up until it was at the very, very end of the red. Just in case I missed the point You are obese message. 

Oh…and since my blood pressure came right after the weigh in…I didn’t qualify in the healthy blood pressure range so I didn’t get healthy points for that. 

Don’t get me wrong. I am large. Know it. Want to change it. Know I need to change it but dad-gum. They could have softened the message a wee bit! I had to cut off the YOU ARE part for fear you see my BMI. Think it is higher than my  IQ at this point. Remember that slogan ‘aim high’? That must have made an impact because oh-boy am I high. 

And just in case I missed it there was a helpful message about the impacts of being obese. Yeah. Got it. Got the XL tee shirt to prove it. 

Speaking of which…on the way out I think she was trying to boost my sagging spirits when she said,”I have tee shirts!” In front of me was a shelf with small, medium and 2xl. “Guess not in your size.” I suppose I should count it as my a+ moment that she didn’t hand me the 2xl. 

Needless to say when we rushed in the door at 6:47 I didn’t even argue when I heard,”let’s try this again.” It’s definitely the lesser of today’s evils. 


Side note: she tied her shoe once by herself. She asked me to take a video in case she did it again so she could show “everybody and my teacher”