Wednesday, September 5, 2012

My Own Cheerleader

You can do it!
Sometimes when I make it to the toilet on time, I think it would be appropriate for a marching band to appear, playing some sort of celebratory fanfare, heavy on the trumpets.  That hasn't happened yet.

The other thing that would be handy would be my own personal cheerleader, pumping me up when I'm feeling discouraged, and urging me to keep on keeping on when I'm on the brink of disaster.

Instead, I've had to become my own cheerleader, which is a new role for me. It is now very common for me to give myself pep talks as I'm scurrying as fast as I can to the nearest restroom.  They go a bit like this:

"You can do this!  It's just mind over matter. Mind over matter. Mind over matter!  You can do this!" (this is the one that I generally use while I'm in the car.  Along with "come on come on come on come on!" while waiting for red lights.  There are SO many red lights in this city!  Also, advanced greens for every direction except the one I'm traveling.).

If I happen to be walking (which is actually a thousand times worse than driving.  It is really really hard to clench certain muscles while moving others as fast as you can), I generally time my mantras to the rhythm of my footsteps: "You. Are. Going. To. Make. It. You. Are. Going. To. Make. It."

On a good day, I find this to be hilarious.  On a bad day, it makes me really angry.

Because the reality is that this disease steals moments away from me.

Yesterday was the first day of school.  My 6th grader wanted me to walk with her to the bus stop, as she does most days.  And I tried.  Valiantly.  Even though I knew I was having a rough morning.

It's really not that far of a walk.  Down to the end of my street and around the corner.

And I made it as far as the end of the street before having to apologize and send her the rest of the way on her own.  I couldn't even spend the few extra seconds to give her a proper hug goodbye, just a quick kiss and a "Love you have a good day" tossed over my shoulder as I hurried away from her.

And I wonder how much of her childhood she will remember this way; me leaving her alone to face the world when she's not quite ready.

So as I'm timing my cheer-leading to my footsteps, speed walking down what is possibly the longest sidewalk in the world, there is a voice whispering in my head that there are probably not many moments like these left to spend with her.  She is 11 years old, and isn't always going to want her Mommy to be giving her a kiss and hug in front of a busload of kids.  And I'm missing them.

I just haven't figured out a personal pep talk for that yet.

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