With a big gulp and a little tear, I bravely packed up and sent off one of my babies. It was hard, so very hard. Letting go a part of you from a special place in your heart is so very hard! Other people will see her, hear her, perhaps judge her…not too harshly please.
Oh the stress and agony of it all! To choose just one and then sharing it. I know I lay it all out bare naked here but this was hard to do. Still I knew I must be brave and just do it. After seeing and falling in love with the LTYM Open Mic Salon at BlogHer11 in San Diego, I knew that some day I wanted to audition for this production. Directed and produced by stay-at-home humorist Ann Imig,LTYMis a “national series of live readings by local writers giving Mother’s Day a microphone.” With this circus act of mine I have so many stories to share…too many stories to share…like any other mother or grandmother or daughter or son out there. And so, with a little…okay, a lot of encouragement I chose a story to share.
Do you have a story to share? I bet you do. “Remember, regular everyday people with a story to tell make up the heart of LTYM. You don’t need to call yourself a writer. You don’t need any performing experience. You just need to share the story in your heart or on your mind.” Submissions for LTYM Sacramento are being accepted now until February 13. If you are a Sacramento or Central Valley area blogger, writer, mother, grandmother, daughter or son with a story to tell please consider sharing it and submitting it to LTYM Sacramento.
It really is not such a big feat and it really doesn’t take that much time…one mile…less than 11 or 12 minutes. But after last year, I came to discover just how important it proved to be for me. The stress is different this year coupled with anxieties and just the struggle of getting up some days so, again, I need to be running in order to juggle this life under the Big Top. Thank goodness I have something cute (and more than functional) on my feet!
Meanwhile, because it is Christmas time under the Big Top, it is time to deck some halls, which I confess, is kind of hard to get all excited about and motivated to do…except for the fact that Daniel is all over it and so is Hazel…and Fallon, Fallon is just loving the lights and STUFF that she is determined to get at because they are shiny and look fragile and not meant for a one year old. Oh, and Zoë is coming home for a holiday visit. Yes, the Big Top must be decked…no matter how long it takes. So I hauled out the Christmas boxes, set up the trees, hung some stockings and garland after a 4 mile run earlier this week. I figured that I was already hot and sweaty, I may as well get sweatier.. And I did. While stepping back, basking in my sweaty glow of an awesome run and even more awesome sense of accomplishing at least the start of hall decking, I saw in my blog feed what my friend Linda was doing to with her holiday decorating.
I have to admit I have always wanted to do more with all the medals I earned than hanging them on my scarf rack in the closet. Sure, I haven’t ran any races like I did before. I just can’t afford the fees. But I still run, and wear out running shoes. And I remain very proud of every single medal because I earned them all.
And so I hung them all up on the little tree in our family room.
And here it is, the holiday running tree. It’s a tree decorated with so many memories. It might not be the Christmas-iest of trees here under the Big Top, but it has just as much heart, soul, love, tears and hugs covering it. That is what makes a Christmas tee special here in my circus tent.
This one is done and it sparkles and glows. Tomorrow the rest of my circus will join me in covering the other ones with even more memories and love and heart and soul and hugs.
well, at least SOME of them…those that I happened to be carrying in my bag today.
I seem to have a lot of pens.
Sorry, but these are the only burdens of mine that I am willing to share today. I’m sure you have more than your fair share of burdens too; so do you honestly want me to overshare mine, you know, to add to yours? I didn’t think so.
If you follow me on Instagram or on Flickr, you know that I take a lot of pictures. On the rare occasion, some of them are even pretty good. I take at least one every day thanks to the inspiration of Chantelle and her photo a day prompts.
…that I have not completely FAILED in prepping myself for this Sunday’s death march mud run that I will be doing with my son in law. Yes, I can handle the running distance…bitch please…it’s the mud and the upper body strength needed obstacles not to mention it is going to be 80 degrees HOT when we start our race at 12:30 PM. I’m. Going. To. Die. I hope Ben will kindly drag my body to the finish line…for my loving circus clowns who surely will miss me when I am gone.
Let’s pretend that I have not STILL have not finished that staircase railing paint project…Y’all know I will probably finally finish it around August which would be a year after I started.
Let’s pretend that the NRP mega-code simulation test that I did today was not the hot, sweaty mess that it was because I am so nervous in testing scenarios like that (yes even if I have been doing this for over 22 years…don’t judge) and let’s pretend that I was not given the scariest delivery from hell scenario because I’m a NICU nurse and I can handle it. I know my mega-code partner, who at first was happily announcing that this was her last NRP renewal ever because she is retiring next year certainly wishes it had never happened. Don’t worry. We saved the baby mannequin patient. Oh, and we both passed.
Let’s pretend that the usual war of the worlds that is between Hazel and Daniel when he comes home from school to discover that I am babysitting his nieces never happened. I know Daniel and Hazel wish that it never happened…or at least the time-outs they received never happened.
Let’s just pretend all the annoying shit that has been bothering us all today has never happened…
But Jenny, the Bloggess‘ new book, available on sale today and on my Kindle WAITING for me to read it now…THAT we should all be so happy, so very happy that it happened. Seriously. I’m so GLAD this has happened and I have the book and wine and I will be reading it tonight while drinking a glass of wine.
A few years ago, our family circus found ourselves at our kids’ high school football game because that is what we have done in support of our daughter, Abby, while she would cheer for her high school. It was always guaranteed to be a fun Friday night because the cheer squad was awesome, the band was great, the Wolf Pack was spirited and our high school team was pretty good…they still are pretty good. Seated behind us, at this particular game, was a group of high school aged boys engaged in conversation that included calling one another stupid retards, the visiting team’s uniforms retarded, a particular teacher was most definitely a retard…and on and on.
At one point, Daniel turned to me and pointedly asked me, “Am I a retard?“
I replied asking him what did he think that word meant. Thinking for a minute, he answered that people he knew used it to talk about stupid people and sometimes people called him that at school so he was wondering if he was a retard.
“No, son. No you are not. You are a very bright, hard-working, amazing kid. Anyone and everyone who knows you would agree. No, you are not stupid.“
Daniel sat there for a moment pondering what I just told him. He hugged me and then asked if he could go and hang out with Abby’s boyfriend.
“Of course, Daniel.“
Yes, my heart broke just a little during our conversation. How could it not? I looked down at Daniel hanging out with Jon and smiled and waved. Must maintain a happy, strong face I told myself. How else could I support my child against such attacks, even if they are indirect? It was then that my thoughts were broken by the boy directly behind me laughing over his friend tripping and spilling food everywhere. “Dude! You are such a fucking retard!“
I whipped my head around and looked the kid square in the eye and asked him, “Is he (the friend) really mentally retarded?“
“What? No!“
“Do you see that little boy down there?“
“The one standing next to Jon?“
“Yeah. Do you know Jon? So do I. He’s a good friend of my family. He happens to be friends with that little boy. That little boy who just so happens to be developmentally disabled…a retard as you put it…that little boy is my son.“
“I wasn’t talking about your kid…“
“No? Then what did you mean by that word when you called your friend that?“
The kid started to say something, then stopped, then started again, then stopped, then he muttered his apologies saying that he didn’t really mean it and had no idea that it would hurt someone like my child.
“Perhaps next time you say it you will realize and you will get it.“
After our exchange, the boys got up and slunk off to the snack bar. Later on during the game I spied that kid hanging out with Jon and even talking to Daniel. I won’t pretend that my conversation with him made too much of a difference because, after all he was just a smart-alecky kid; but I’d like to think that watching the game and interacting with Daniel made him appreciate all the more just how awesome and even normal a kid like Daniel is. I can only hope that that kid would get it.
Anyone who has read this Adventures in Juggling of mine for any length of time knows that I do not like the usage of the word “retard”. Anyone who knows me even more closely perhaps gets why…I am the mother of a child living with cognitive and developmental disabilities. But, truth be told, I have never cared for the use of the word “retard”. In my opinion, there are more better ways to articulate when one finds a situation, a thing or even a person to be frustrating, stupid, foolish, dense, futile, idiotic, inane, ludicrous, clumsy, pointless, irrelevant, simple, slow, sluggish, thick, trivial, ignorant, vacuous….and on …and on. I am so much smarter than to resort to the use of one word when describing anything or anyone I find to match any of the above words. At least that is how I see it. Add to that belief is the fact that through the years, long before I became Daniel’s mother, I saw how a word like that used so casually could hurt someone. I have known many families with children living with physical, developmental, cognitive disabilities. I saw how people’s words and attitudes hurt. I got it…or at least I thought I did. Then through that short conversation with my child I realized all the more just how hurtful it really was. Whether people use that word to my son’s face or not it hurts…pure and simple, it hurts.
I get it.
Do you?
Everywhere around me, I am surrounded by people who use that word with seemingly no thought at all…at the mall, at the football games, at the dance studio, at school, at the tae-kwon-do studio at the coffee shop, in polite conversation with me…everywhere. No, I don’t believe that most of them would ever intend to hurt my child…yet they do…every time they use that word.
He hears you.
He understands you.
Today is Spread The Word To End The Word Day, part of an ongoingcampaign against the r-word created by The Special Olympics. Close to 250,000 people have signed a pledge against the word “retard.” Today I call everyone out who uses that word who reads this blog…who knows Daniel, whether personally or through this blog.
This morning I submitted one of my blog posts to audition for Listen To Your Mother Sacramento.
I got me some new kicks. Kind of pretty, aren’t they? They feel pretty good on the runs that I have taken them out on too.
And here it is, the holiday running tree. It’s a tree decorated with so many memories. It might not be the Christmas-iest of trees here under the Big Top, but it has just as much heart, soul, love, tears and hugs covering it. That is what makes a Christmas tee special here in my circus tent.
…that I have not completely FAILED in prepping myself for 
