i’m sitting here, getting a little emotional over “children of eden”, which i put on because i was already emotional, and this way, i have an excuse. that show has always been a rollercoaster for me. i stage managed that monster of a show, and every night, during “the hardest part of love”, i’d have to go off-sets because i was an emotional wreck. it’s a very honest song about parent/child relationships.

my walls are bare. last time i moved, this point of disarray really struck me and made me hollow inside. this time, i’m just READY. i’m ready to begin a new household with bryan, where the cups can finally go in the cupboard where he thinks they should be. (i wish i weren’t serious about this, but even now, he will go to the wrong area, open it, realize what’s happened, and say, “when did you move the cups?”)

i want to take a moment here and give a little credit where a lot of credit is due.

i hate moving. hate it. with a passion. we were semi-military growing up, so the idea of “moving” means being without all of your things for a month, and then complete and utter chaos while you try to remake a house. i hate moving.

but.. it seems to be part of life.

i am incredibly lucky, because i have found someone who hates moving just as much as i do. but he’s a better person than i am, so he has packed most of this house while i’m off being amayzing. he has taken care of me more in the last week than most people have ever.

and after i had a shitty, shitty weekend.. he surprised me with a prize.

i had been contemplating music for the ceremony. today, it hit me.. “in whatever time we have” from children of eden is PERFECT. it doesn’t promise forever, it’s not unrealistic.. but it is appreciative of the good while you still have it. i think that compliments us perfectly.

i have never been the weak, naive thing that needed to be taken care of. i have never needed completing. but, thank god, i have found someone who compliments me.

i was ten, i think.

it was a very hot summer, and in dothan (which is SOUTH alabama), it seemed especially miserable. humidity isn’t even spoken of down there, because opening your mouth to speak the obvious seemed a huge risk.. you may choke on the very humidity you wanted to remark upon. long story short, it was hot.

we were down in dothan, at my grandparents’ house on roberta lane. a nice, older house, it was an older neighborhood that didn’t have any kids around. every now and again, we’d be down there at the same time as some other visiting grandchildren, and we’d have a short burst of friends.

one such week, the other grandchildren, none of whom have a place in my memory now, put out a slip ‘n slide.

i was ecstatic. i wasn’t much of a swimmer (in fact, at ten, i hadn’t yet learned), so water parks weren’t much fun for me.. but this seemed like a harmless way to beat the sun. i BEGGED my mother for permission. she just kept saying that it didn’t look safe to her.

it’s just a slide, i prodded. it’s on the ground. and water. i can’t hurt myself.

finally, she gave in.

i trodded over to the yard across the street from ours, bathing suit on, and ready for fun. i was going to show my mother that a slip ‘n slide was, in fact, VERY safe.

i waited in line for my turn. the anticipation was palpable. i couldn’t wait for the cold snap of the water, the rush of the wind as i slid.. oh, it was gonna be good.

finally, my turn arrived.

i think i even tried to mimic a gymnast with that little karate-kid-crane thing they do before they take a running start toward the horse. i landed perfectly, and immediately learned why my mother had seen through the bright packaging and seen the horrid, horrid truth.. it fucking hurts to play on a slip ‘n slide. you’re running, jumping, and landing on the ground. a thin sheet of plastic similar to a garbage bag gives you cushioning. and, believe it or not, at that point in my life, my ass had cushioning of its own.

regardless, i held it together the entire run of the slide. i saw the end of the slide and felt relieved that all had ended well. when i finally hit lawn, i stood up, a bit disoriented, and took a step toward mama’s house.

and heard a thick POP.

yes, i had made it through the hellacious slip ‘n slide, only to severely sprain my ankle by stepping into a hole the minute i was off of it.

jenni ran home to get momma, while i turned even more pale than i am and tried not to cry. but i knew something was very wrong with my foot.

my mother came over quickly, examined my ankle, and she thought what i thought.. clearly satan endorsed slip ‘n slides and he was exacting his revenge on my soul. (okay, she didn’t voice that, but i saw it in her eyes.) then my mother did something that, to this day, i wish i could’ve have witnessed and not been a part of.. she carried my large, ten year old frame home.

granted, she was out of breath and exhausted when we got there, but there was never a moment of anger or blame or disappointment or.. as i expected there would be.. the dreaded “i told you so”. she just took me home, iced my ankle, and called the emergency care clinic down the street.

it was then that i realized all that motherhood encompassed. it requires so many emotions and forgivenesses and unselfish tendencies that it almost requires them to reject being human. they almost have to become something else entirely.. something more ethereal, something more blessed than us normal people. you sacrifice a part of yourself every day, with little or no thanks, and pray that in the end, your child will never EVER return to a slip ‘n slide, and will pass that knowledge down to their own blood.

i’m lucky to have such an example.

happy birthday, momma.