HER FIVE CENTS

Happy 9th birthday my sweet girl!

Last night David and I watched a violent movie. In the beginning, it showed a montage of videos from the 1980's where the Berlin Wall was featured. People protesting and picketing. It showed a particularly poignant clip from a speech President Reagan gave in which he said, "Tear down this wall!" and then right after that words came across the screen that said something about how in 1989 after years of fighting and division, the wall would come down. And then, in true 80's form, neon stenciled words were painted on the screen that said, "This is NOT that story."

Just a few minutes ago I was laying in my bed with David on one side, Sadie on the other side of him on the floor, and Nevie on the floor next to me. Nevie asked if she could hold my hand to which I said of course. David then slowly and delicately clutched my hand and brought it closer to his body. As I lay there, thoughts of love and peace came quickly into my mind as I smiled gently and squeezed the hands of those of whom I was holding.

Jk. This is not that story.

This is not the story of the awareness I have for people who may never get to experience the blessings I have in my life of children and a husband who love me. I think of those people every day. But this is not that story. 

Behind the scenes, I was desperate for escape. I thought about waiting until they had all fallen asleep to make my way back into the comfort of my cave in the late night (the living room) but Nevie seemed to tire of holding my hand and she let go. Phew. I thought it was a sign from mini-Pope. So I gave David a kiss on the cheek mouth and came down to my sanctuary.

Today has been a particularly rough day. Not because my children are bad. Not because anything went wrong (although I have some words for the customer service of Skype) but because I need a break. I need a break from the mundane. I need a human-free escape. No offense. Kind of.

I was going to message my friend and tell her I was having a mental breakdown and that I was telling her because then if I did actually have one, people might think I was less crazy because at least I acknowledged it. Right?

I homeschool my kids. I'm mostly with them 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. It's hardly less than that. I've been struggling with that lately. I need something that is all mine. I want a class. Or a night of the week. Or 1 hour every day. And sure, it's totally up to me to create that space. But is it? Because it seems like when I do, something inevitable happens. I want the universe to create it for me. Is that too much to ask? lol.

I mean my kids are old enough to fend for themselves when I need to pee. Yet it still happens to be the most popular time of the day.  I literally don't get two minutes to myself and this isn't a Basic Girl use of the word. It's literal. Except not really because there are times when I am cleaning the kitchen and for some reason, no one wants to be around me then. I guess I should change it to, most of the time I don't get two minutes to myself.

For now, I'm going to soak up this time late at night when all is quiet and watch the show that makes everyone cry. I really like that story.

I wish I knew his name.

He's awful. Maybe he's changed over the course of 10 years. I kind of doubt it though. Someone like that doesn't change.

I've been decluttering. Like legit style. That's a totally a lie. I'm only sometimes-decluttering-mostly-reorganizing-chaos. However, I found some 3 X 5 cards we had our prospective girls fill out for cheer tryouts. I went through each of them reminiscing on the days when I interacted with most of the people whose names were on the cards. I stalked investigated a couple of them on Facebook and almost hit Add Friend but then thought that 10 years might be a little too long and it might seem super creepy and stalkerish to all of a sudden add them. A few of them I still connect with on social media. I sure love them! It's been such a joy to watch them grow. Most of them are married now. Some have kids. I feel like a mama hen.

One in particular stood out. I remember when she tried out. She was a senior at the time. She was busy and had a lot going on. She wasn't the best but we wanted her to be on a team. We selected her for Junior Varsity.

I remember the phone call from her mom. She yelled and screamed at me. I couldn't speak with her through my tears so I hung up. My boss called a meeting with me and the other coaches and the parents of this girl. The dad. The dad with his earring. We sat facing each other from across the room. We all sat at desks. Him and his wife on one side of the room, our boss and us (the other coaches) on the other.

He verbally assaulted us. He told me and the coaches that we should go back to "Bimboville". Classy guy right? Then, as we were walking out he said to me, "You can take your fat ass back to Bimboville." He likes that place I think. I wonder if that's where he lives now.

I've been doing a lot of work surrounding food and diets and my weight and all of that stuff. Remembering/rereading about this cheer experience took me back to the beginning days of my struggle with the diet-binge cycle. It began in those months. The months of so many traumatic life events which I won't detail in this post. As I took myself back to that year, so many seemingly-minute and intensely life-altering things happened which I have not thoughts about in awhile. Like this run in with this terrible human. There were the losses of friendships, a birth, a move across the country, another pregnancy, marriage issues and more. And it was around this time that I started to gain weight and thus begin my journey into The Cycle. It's one you're probably familiar with. The one that starts with a diet, moves to weight loss, and ends with hanger and a binge only to begin once again. It takes a lot of forms. Paleo, Veganism (for diet and not ethical reasons), Weight Watchers, Whole 30, and more. I've done all of those folks and all of the ones in between.

What I'm doing now is throwing it all out the mutha effin window! And I'm throwing that guy out of the window of my head. Even though that's a super weird analogy (metaphor?), it still feels right. And this all feels SO good.