SayWhatClub Online Voices April 2011

24 Ahoras -- Mi Vida Loco

Amy Saxon Bosworth
Copyright 2011

Mid-Gilpin Colorado
Saturday, April 2, 2011

3:18 am
I bolt upright in a cold sweat, kick boxing the comforter to the floor. I’ve had this one before, the crazy Christian school dream. This time my kids are being suspended for playing the bongos and practicing random yoga poses. My daughter is in a plaid jumper and matching headband waiting for me in the principal’s office but as I fully wake it’s not the nightmare I’m remembering, it’s the time I was called in and asked to leave the PTA after another parent read my novella and thought someone with my potty mouth didn’t deserve a spot on the spring fling decorating committee. That day so very long ago in a place called Comfort, Texas, I got in my minivan and drove away in tears. I continued to write tuition checks to the little private school with the lion and lamb logo because I thought the smaller class size gave my hard of hearing daughter an advantage. Years later it still haunts me. I get up and check on my now-teenager, her little brother and the toddler. I check my calendar and make sure it’s really Saturday, pop half an Ambien and chase it with a flat diet coke. Amen.

6:49 am
Holiday the Wonder Dog taps my left hand, her gentle wakey, wakey alert. She’s opened my bedroom door and the door to the girls’ room so I can see Moxie is up bouncing and singing what looks like “mamamamamama.” I slap my implant on. There is no better sound in the world than that song and her giggles. In go her aids and she sings the fishes/feces song as the smell hits me. (Just pretend she’s singing about fish if you aren’t on the new-age parenting correct language bandwagon. In our community, parents tend to use proper names for body parts and functions but it can be a little much at times.)

7:12 am
I attempt a healthy breakfast by whipping up a smoothie with high protein Greek yogurt, organic cherries, yard eggs from a friend, agave syrup and the end of a wooden spoon. Yum! I can’t even fake it, it tastes like total crap, so I dump the whole thing back in the blender add ½ cup sugar and whirl it around a little more.

7:17 am
Moxie’s fist pounding demands for “Meat, meat, meat, bacon, bacon, pig, meat, pig, meat” wake up Whitten. With his hearing loss, I’m not sure if he actually heard her or she shook the kitchen island hard enough for him to feel the vibrations. I think she may grow up to be a butcher. The child has a thing for meat. Four slices of bacon later, she’s full and quieted to a dull oink.

7:40 am
I tell Whitten for the third time to unload the dishwasher, only to notice that his hearing aids are on the shelf above the sink, not cool. I sign “hey Whit – your aids are in the dishwasher.” I’m so damn mean.

7:45 am
Whitten’s aids are in his ears and the dishwasher is unloaded. I take a sip of the smoothie, gross. Switch to diet coke and pop my BP meds.

8:12 am
I settle Miss Moxie in the playpen, make sure Anna Leash is awake, then bundle up to take Holiday out to potty. A few feet out the door I start to skate, ugly in slo-mo. I catch myself before I go down but my robe is icy wet and stuck to my butt and my tears are frozen on my cheeks. Holiday is in a perfect down stay, waiting for a command. For a brief moment wonder why I ever moved up to Siberia anyway but while she does her business I look out at the Divide, I stand still and I breathe in the cold and I give thanks for it all.

8:30 am
Thank you Great Creator for Nick Jr. Mama is drinking hot tea, checking her email and Facebook. Backpack, backpack, backpack! (That’s a Dora the Explorer reference.) I respond to birthday party invites for all three of the kids. Coordinate a teen night for Hands and Voices. I am on a roll, making play dates, book club RSVPs, travel arrangements, thank-you notes, baby shower meals, paying bills, checking grades and making doctors’ appointments. What did deaf people do before the Internet!?!

9:30 am
Time to coordinate Anna Leash’s outfit for practice. (Anna Leash is Anneliese's alter ego Roller Derby name.) I should stop here and explain how the little redhead in the plaid jumper is now wearing a dog collar and going by the name Anna Leash? Funny story … I saw a flyer for Denver Rollers Dolls Glitterdome Gladiators and thought since Anneliese was a bit shy and not into sports I’d suggest she give it a try. Little Anna fell in love. A Junior Derby star was born, along with her new persona. #18 Anna Leash was born, complete with dog collar, tail, and rhinestone dog bones on her helmet. She pushes, she shoves, she elbows. She kicks ass! (I don’t know where she gets it.)

9:42 am
Moxie goes down for a quick nap and I get to bathe! First time in what seems like days. I even shave my pits. But … Holiday opens the door to alert to the phone, yes she is a wonder dog. I run for it. It’s Moxie’s home health nurse. Moxie’s RSV shot has just come UPS and she wants to run it over and give it to her. Don’t you love Captel and a wonder dog? (No I don’t have neighbors, thank goodness!) So we make shot arrangements for tomorrow and my floor gets mopped for the first time in weeks.

10:30 am
Fast forward … zip, zip, zip we are all dressed packed and out the door. Snacks, diapers, toys, change of clothes, wallet, keys, sunglasses, skates, protective gear, cell phone, check, check, check and check. The practice rink is an hour and a half down the mountain.

10:42 am
Drive by the public school. Wonder about educational options for Whit and Anna next year.

10:48 am
Drive by the bank. Wonder what my balance is. Couldn’t check it online earlier, forgot my PIN, pretty sure it’s one of my kids’ social security numbers but I couldn’t remember which kid or what their numbers were, but no time to stop.

11:18 am
Discuss summer plans with Anneliese. Volunteer at the Carousel of Happiness or at the Mountain People’s Food Co-op? Maybe both. Try to convince Whitten that yoga is still cool, he’s not buying it. It will not be on his summer to-do list. Moxie ends the whole discussion with a very loud rendition of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Anna retorts by sticking the Les Miserables soundtrack in and we sing together and loudly. Josh played Gavroche before I was implanted so the songs are bittersweet. Now I can hear and sign the lyrics.

I want to weep both from overload and sheer joy. These children, all three aided, all three talking and arguing, laughing and singing, my beautiful children and I, on this cloudless day, whizzing down the mountain so full of life.

1:15 pm
Gladiator Practice is not awful but it seems that there is always some other mom way cooler than me who has brought better snacks and more awesome toys. Today, it is Leo’s mom. I brought dried strawberries, she has mangos. I have cheese straws, but her grahams are preferred. Forget the crayons and coloring books, she has wonder paper. And sin of all sins, Moxie’s got the snot thing happening where it dribbles down into her own mouth and no matter how fast I am I can’t seem to catch it. Slurp! And she just snatched little Leo’s sippy cup. That’s one way to make friends and influence people.

1:22 pm
Almost done, almost done, almost done…

2:54 pm
Stuck in the Canyon, it must be a bad one.

3:18 pm
Still stuck, the weather is fine but it’s a dangerous mountain road. The kids are quiet. They’ve eaten through all their snacks and are out of juice and water.

4:24 pm
We finally make it through the tunnel and pass the accident scene. The same spot we were laughing and singing “Castle on a Cloud” on the way down this morning. “There is a place where no one’s lost, there is a place where no one cries, crying at all is not allowed, not in my castle on a cloud.”

5:15 pm
Home. I wake the kids and urge them in, sweaty and tired of being cramped in the Jeep so long, they disappear to their various spaces and I let them.

7:00 pm
Make Do for dinner. That’s what we called it when I was a kid. I pull anything not growing mold out of the fridge and call it a buffet, feeling a little guilty.

7:40 pm
My children do not wear me out, I’m just worn, weary, tired. The day has drained me for some reason. I slide my implant off and read, cuddle with them little to biggest and start tuck-ins. Holiday goes out and eats and gets cuddles too.

10:40 pm
At some point I’ve sat back down on the sofa and dozed off. I never ate, so I fix myself a salad and flip on the DVR so I can trash talk the Real Housewives. And I do, loudly at the screen, sometimes I even throw wadded-up napkins and curse at them for being so stupid or spoiled. I want a Real Housewives of Nederland. Sure you can order a grande soy latte and get a mani ped, but can you bear-proof your trash can, bake bread at 9,000 feet and winch yourself out of a ditch without going into hypothermia? That’s reality. Namaste bitches. Maybe I need some sleep.

11:12 pm
I’m going, I’m going … but I stop and check email and Facebook one last time and my heart melts. It’s just a little thumbs up. A like on a photo I posted on Facebook from my oldest son. He’s all grown up, in the Army but never, ever is he far from my heart. He is the proudest thing I’ve ever done and truly my hero. That little click has made my night. My pillow is damp but I sleep well.

3:27 am
Ouch! What the heck? Something is biting me. I grab my nose and, really, am I that dumb? Holiday is staring at me. Don’t answer that. My nose ring has been yanked out. I turn on the light and find it in the covers and flip on the light. With the help of my potty mouth, I get it back in. Then I lie there thinking what kind of mother am I? I get up and, room by room, I check on my kids. I watch them sleep. I sit on the sofa and hold Josh’s quilt made from his old t-shirts. I pretend I can still smell him, all soccer boy sweaty. I breathe in and out and I sleep.


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