Mama's Hard Moments

"You cannot make yourself feel something you do not feel, but you can make yourself do right in spite of your feelings." Pearl S. Buck

Yesterday I encountered an incident with Mylah that just pulled at every heart string I have in my body. My little girl lied to me. I know this is normal behavior for children to tell some fibs - white lies. Hey, I was an amazing story teller growing up and my daughter has my imagination to tell 'interesting stories' but I typically call her on them and try to get her to distinguish between reality and her 'story telling'; however, yesterday Mylah didn't tell a tall tell.

She plain out lied. Straight faced and didn't flinch about it at all. I was perplexed and to be totally honest, I found it really hard to comprehend. My daughter, who has the ability to speak truth in some of the most awkward moments, looked me straight in the face and lied. It broke my heart and I didn't know what to do to punish her. I wanted to cry. She instantly knew that it was wrong and I did share with her my feelings about how bad it hurt to have her lie to me. I could tell that hurt her too, which wasn't what I wanted to do. I hate seeing my little princess cry. I hate having to punish her but I know that it's part of being a parent.

The parenting part that really sucks is knowing that if I don't punish her, she won't learn from this moment. So if I don't punish Mylah and let this one time go by like it was nothing. She will in turn think that lying is okay, which then means other things could be considered norms when in fact, they are not. Yesterday when I had her lick the bar of soap, and watched her face turn into a crazy array of different 'icky faces'. I couldn't help but wonder, was this enough. Did she learn or will I have to do this again? Sometimes I wish that God handed you a manual with each child.

Code of Conduct

Today I experienced the lovely and sometimes dreaded, yearly female exam. Now most women go through different levels of preparing for these exams. They talk themselves into it, prepare the area and decide what the best clothing choice would be exam approved. I for one, don't take my prep work lightly and typically this is an ordeal for me, which in turn means I hate it. Mostly I hate it because no one really likes to have another person in their junk that hasn't gone through the stages of courting; flowers, name exchange, drinks and depending on the issues, more drinks. You get the picture, Right?

Well, today's exam didn't exactly go the way I thought that it would. As my Nurse PA is down in the "exam position" and I'm in the "Hello, World" position, she starts to have a conversation with me about my last year's activity and concerns I could have with my "precious". A little taken back at the idea that "we" (really meaning HER) are really trying to "small talk" while I'm in a little vunerable position. She continues to small talk and a couple of informational tid-bits were exchanged. Then she stops in mid-exam with me still in the stir-ups and tells me, "Did you know you have a sensitive virgina?"

***Pause to reflect***

What? A sensitive virgina?

Now maybe I was being a little sensitive but I truly think there was maybe a more "comfortable" way of saying that and two, what the hell is a sensitive virgina? Can anyone tell me?

Then my "funny side" took over and I couldn't help but think about my experiences with "sensitive people" and laugh out loud because typically those types need cheerleaders in their life to do anything. So instantly I think, I will now have to pep-talk my "precious" into doing anything. I share my thoughts with my Nurse PA, she didn't find my views too amusing.

Really? I thought it was funny.

Yes, I'm Single!

"Why are YOU single?"

The question that seems to be surrounding my life lately more than, "How are you doing?"

A couple of days ago, Jenn informed me that her recent adventure named "Tristen aka Trent" asked why I was still single because I was smart, pretty and fun. It was hard to really come up with an answer because honestly I don't really know why myself. Actually to be totally truthful, I don't ever even think about it unless I watch some mushy chick-flick movie or see some romantic gesture between two people. Only in those moments do I feel as though I'm missing out on something spectacular; however, as I leave my home completely content with the idea that I have no plans or limitations holding me from going and doing what ever I want. I remember real quick that my life is an amazing adventure of exciting moments, I've made for myself with Mylah and the family/friends I have in my life. So I feel as though I concured this judgemental idea of a woman needing a man. Yay, Me!

Then today as I'm in Fred Meyers shopping for the second love of my life, shoes. The sales clerk assumes that I was trying on these amazing "fuck-me" pumps for a date. I laughed with this joyous freedom laugh, and informed her that her assumptions were way off. I was getting amazing "fuck-me" pumps for myself. Her face was priceless but that motherly "disappointing" look was a knife to my soul. Here she was looking at me and my daughter as though we were some refugees she needed to save. I instantly went from standing nearly 6 feet 2 inches in these heels, to feeling like I was only 2 feet tall.

As I left the store with my daughter totally unware of judgemental situation that had just unfolded in the store. I took Mylah by her hand and tried my hardest not to cry. For a quick second, I almost let this judgemental person distroy my spirit about myself. I questioned the life I was giving my daughter without a father figure in our home. I questioned my own selfishness of having her out of wed-lock. I questioned how good of a mother I was without a man?

However, the more I held my little girl's hand and she skipped next to me with the joy for life. God was real quick to remind me that it was His judgement I should care about. The most amazing moment was when I buckled Mylah into her careseat and she told me, "Mom your the bestest mother I ever had!"

Sometimes I think people need to realize how much their looks, words, and sometimes ignorant judgements can effect the people around them.

The best thing about today....

1) My daughter reminded me every moment today why I am a mother.

2) I'm single because that's what I want. I want to be mom who will soon be entering Gonzaga for her MBA and I did it without a boyfriend. So I must be doing something right!

I'm 15 minutes into my 60 minutes Elliptical workout at the gym. I've got my settings set for a 13 restraint level and about a 10 degree incline. So according to my sweat factor, I should be lossing at least 300 calories, if not more; however, when I looked at the lovely electronic panel that just barely hit 100 calories (loss). I freak out inside.

What?!?!?

This can not be right, the machine has to be busted; however, when I look at my neighbor's for a more accurate level of measurement. Her monitor averaged out to about 13 calories per minute, which was the same as mine. For every minute I spent on this Elliptical Pro-Form, I only lost 13 calories?!?!?!?!

ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!?

You realize that in ten minutes, I can consume a juicy Whopper w/cheese, fires and a milk shake. That's close to 1300 calories in ten minutes. Revalation!!!! My math teachers were all wrong! Not every equation equals out. (A) does not equal (B) when it comes to the weight/calorie battle.

This to my surprise makes me wonder, how does one conpensate for the calories taken, if lossing them would be like trying to pick the winning numbers for the lotto? It feels completely impossible to win that battle against the bulge. Now this could also be the point where I decide two things, (1) that calories are from the devil and eating is more of a sport of dodgeballing calories to my Booty or (2) Realize that eating isn't bad, but eating a Whopper with all the fixings, is really not my friend.

On the same hand, I'm not a rabbit. So green salads and veggie only diets won't work for me either. I need to find a happy median between the evil calories and the ones that are willing to leave my Booty during a thirty minute workout. However, no matter what... I will never give up those amazing calories a good glass of wine and beer can bring to my ass because that my friend is a crime against my quality of life.

My daughter's Scary 4th

Like most people, when the fourth arrives we all typically find ourselves at a camp fire or with family and friend's enjoying some holiday firework show. Fireworks in my life, have always been a scary thing due to my mother's amazing way to bring the fear of God upon us if we ever played with fireworks; however, with that fear came lack of knowledge about fireworks. I knew they could be very bad, if not properly supervised or done by trained individuals. I knew they could and are very dangerous to kids but I never really grasped the true nature of a firework, till I heard my little 4 year old daughter share the story that will forever change the life of a little boy, his family and friends and let's face it... my daughter's life!

It all started on Saturday, July 3rd. Mylah and me had found ourselves around amazing people watching a UFC fight on paper view. Well, I found myself watching a UFC fight through the fingers on my hand and Mylah found herself playing with a Leapfrog and another little girl, totally oblivious to the UFC fights all together. After the fights, the party moved to the front where we all did a few "pre-fourth of the July" practice run with some fireworks. Being a little scared myself, I stayed pretty far away from the center of the fun, which turned out to be good because we had a firework explode not even 5 feet off the ground and into the watching crow. A little scary, an enough scare to put Mylah at bay about Fireworks. Turns out after some nice 20/20 hindsight, I'm glad that "dud" happened to scare Mylah enough to really grasp the dangers of fireworks. That moment I think changed how the rest of my daughter's story will end.

On the fourth of July, Mylah and me were on the beach of a friend's mother's house, watching an amazing show of fireworks. They were going off everywhere. It didn't really matter where we looked, you saw amazing bright colors and loud booms. It was spectacular and no words of mine would ever do the justice in just how amazing the show was. All I can say was it was beautiful and one amazing way to celebrate the fourth!

Now the 5th, became the day of reality check! The day which I think will never be forgotten in my mind. The day in which an 11 year old, found his hand totally reconstructed by someone's lack of responsibility when it comes to cleaning up your dud fireworks. My daughter and three other kids, ranging from the nice age of 4 up till 11, went out on the beach to do some clam and shell digging. However during their nice search, Mylah came across some unused fireworks and lighters. The kids being kids, started to play but Mylah still being spooked from the night before wanted nothing to do with the fireworks and wanted to come back to shore. The other little youngster there offered to walk Mylah back to shore. Maybe 10 minutes after getting to the shore, there was a loud and horrible boom. It was louder than any fireworks I had heard the night before and the sound that followed was not of a child enjoying the firework show.

The Cry was heard from miles. It was a terrified little boy, who couldn't see anything due to the impact of the "donkey ball" going off about a foot from his face. It was a cry of a young boy, screaming for his dad. It was fear and the cry that every parent hopes they never hear their child scream. The cry after the young boy's cry for his dad, was one from his father desperately screaming for help and 911. The screams that came after that scream were from all the people in shock, worry, love, and mostly screams of total guilt. There wasn't a single parent at this camp ground that didn't ask the question, "What could I have done differently?" It was the most surreal thing but also the most amazing because with this 20/20 hindsight that we all have after the 5 hour surgery to reconstruct his hand back and the countless prayers, tears and all the questions. We all have the reality that this could of been worse.

The more I come to understand what a "donkey ball" really is, I have to thank the Good Lord we still have that little boy? I have to wonder what really enticed Mylah and the other youngster to come back to the shore? From a little ball maybe 1.5 inches in diameter, a party of about 35 people's fourth of July became something out of a Stephen King Novel. This fourth was one that changed the lives of many. I just hope that my daughter who sings more than most, loves unconditionally and smiles like no other... will one day tell me her side because tonight all that she could say outside of the facts was, "Mommy, I don't want to talk about it because I could of been hurt!"

For all my church family and anyone that has a praying bone in their body, these people need prayer. I'm not sharing the names because honestly, God knows the names because like it reads in the bible, I know every hair on your body because I made you (Proverbs 31). So just pray and God will get the memo. Thanks.

My daughter

Oh KENYA... Oh how we love thy!

What do you think the average person could do in three weeks? Clean their garage? Read two to three books? How about travel the world and hand deliver glasses to people with visual impairments? Brenda Claypool, a radiology tech here at Valley and her family did that exact thing. In the last week of November till December 14th 2009, Brenda found herself in Paris, Kenya, Rome and somehow also found time to do a Safari. The trip was part of a Christian convention held in Nairobi, which brought many different cultures together from all parts of the world. Imagine walking into a room filled with 37,000 people representing 35 different countries, all dressed and representing their communities. Brenda’s husband Jim and another man along with their families, from Spokane, were chosen to take part in this amazing opportunity.

Having typical female DNA, I instantly start to wonder “How do you pack for such a trip?” Think about it, you’re leaving Spokane in the middle of winter and going to a place that is depicted in every Hollywood movie as a “hot spot”. Me personally, I would need at least four, maybe even five suitcases. Brenda on the other hand, brought only 3 suitcases total for her and her family. Then one of those suitcases was filled with 160 glasses. Why glasses you might be asking? Well before the leaving for Kenya, Brenda went looking for a “need” that she could fill during her trip. After doing a lot of research and talking to a Jehovah witness missionary, Brenda learned that the average worker in Kenya makes only $3 a day. A pair of cheaply made glasses cost $10. This became the “need” Brenda wanted to fill.

Brenda recruited the help from hospital employees asking for donations of used eyewear and reading glasses people had lying around their homes. Then she also got a donation from the Union Gospel Mission and finally retained the rest of the glasses from fellow Jehovah witnesses. The thing that should be learned throughout this whole story is the idea that everyone has a choice, nay a responsibility to help their fellow neighbors. Valley Hospital employees came along side Brenda and helped fulfill this need in Kenya