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Last night was weird. My daughter had been packing and unpacking for about a week preparing for her Monache Band trip to Atlanta. And the day finally came last night. We both knew she was leaving but neither one of us were talking about it. Even when I took her to buy her last minute stuff and asked her if she needed anything else I was still in denial.
Oh, she’s gone to plenty of places without me. She goes to visit her dad regularly, sometimes for weeks at a time. It doesn’t happen very often, though since we can’t stand to be away from each other for long periods of time. My heart aches when my baby girl is gone for too long. And I think the same happens to her, since she calls me twenty times a day just to say “hi” when she’s with her dad. We have this bond that I can’t describe. It’s a bond I’m convinced you wouldn’t understand unless you’re a mother.
At first, everything was fine. She was looking forward to this all year. I was still in denial. She got all her last minute items ready.
I finally allowed myself to be a little bit excited for her. It’s her first trip outside of California. They are competing against some big schools. They’ve been preparing for this moment all year long! I couldn't help but be a little big excited even in the midst of all my maternal instincts to hug her and not ever let her go.
“What should I put in my carry on bag, mom?” she asked.
I thought about it for half a second then said, “Pack an extra change of clothes and underwear, aspirin, Dramamine, and a toothbrush, just in case you get stuck in an airport somewhere due to bad weather.” I also told her to carry a blanket and pillow and dress comfortably.
You just never know.
Then evening came. So many things started running through my mind. The little bit of excitement I had quickly turned into sheer horror. Again, I started thinking of everything that could wrong.
I was afraid she didn't pack enough warm clothes. “What if she freezes?”
I was afraid she packed too much. “What if she has to pay for the extra pounds at the airport when she checks her bags?”
I was afraid she’d be petrified on the airplane due to turbulence or bad weather and I wouldn’t be there to hug her and tell her that it's normal and everything is going to be OK.
I also started thinking what if she gets so homesick and there won't be anything I can do about it. “Who’s gonna hug her and reassure her that it’s only a week, and it will be over before she knows it?”
But my fears don’t stop there. What if the opposite happens? What if she loves it so much she'll want to run away from home and join the Atlanta Circus and stay in Atlanta forever? What if when she does finally come home she’s toothless and married to a carnie?
What if she gets lost from her group and ends up living in the streets for days forced to beg for money until they realize she's missing and send out a search party? What if... oh just stop there Norma, before you drive yourself into insanity. You're not too far off already.
Then it was time to drop her off. I hugged her, and we held on tight. She didn’t want to let to go. I didn’t want her to let go. I couldn’t breathe. If I did I was afraid I’d start bawling and beg her to stay.
Suddenly I realized that tears were flowing from her beautiful brown eyes. Her own anticipation had somehow turned into sheer panic from one minute to the next. It must have somehow transferred over from me to her. Oh no!
That’s when I knew I had to be tough. I knew she was thinking of all that could wrong too. She was starting to freak out. She said, “I don’t want to go mom. I don’t want to go.” I almost lost it. But I knew if I started crying it would just makes things worse and I didn’t want to do that to her. I didn’t want to make her first big adventure about me. This is her night. I could have said, “Don’t go.” I could have allowed her fears to get the better of her, just as I’d allowed them to get the better of me.
But I didn’t. I hugged her tight once more. Then I told her everything was going to be OK. But I didn’t let go until she was ready. FinallyI think she felt my strength (even if it was fake.. I felt like bawling too) and it transferred over to her. She hugged her boyfriend, her brothers, and she was off.
Damn! My baby girl is all grown up. When the hell did this happen and why didn't anybody wake me up to warn me it was happening? And now she’s off on her very first adventure outside of California.
myopr.com/articles/2006/12/26/news/local_state/ne ws2.txt
I am so sick and tired of being sick. Geez. I have survived two winters of not being sick and then BAM. Right before I am getting ready to head out to Las Vegas for my birthday trip I get a sore throat. Normally, I would run home, take some medicine, go to bed and hope it doesn't turn into a full blown cold. Which normally it doesn't. But nope, this time I had to run home and pack. It was so worth it. Why is Las Vegas so much fun? I don't gamble. I don't drink *cough *cough watches for lighting to strike... Ok so maybe I drink a little... Why do I love it there so much? The atmosphere is different. It's like Hollywood but better. It's the land of make believe and playing dress up. You're a different person in Vegas, that's for sure. Vegas is the best place to people watch. I love to watch people gamble. Hey, as long as it's not MY money, gambling is fun. But now, I'm back to reality and this cold is kicking my ass. I think it kicked my ass in Vegas too but I was having too much fun to really notice. Damn. I glanced at the my tool bar to the far left was button labeled HELP. If I clicked on it, would it really help? Can anyone really help me now? I decided it was worth a shot. I clicked on it. I brought down a window that was labeled help topics. I scrolled down the list.... hmmm... no nothing about life trauma, tribulations, depression, anxiety. What about my trusty old paper clip, he always seems willing to help. I brought him out from hiding. I had previously put him away after he bugged the hell out of me when he wouldn’t stop asking me if I needed help writing a letter. He seems happy to be out of hiding. He doesn’t seem to hold any grudges against me, good old trusty paper clip. "Mr. Paper clip," I typed, "financial troubles." He came back with "Trouble finding files?" NO! I retype, "help with money" He responded, "Help with recording billing information for a task?" "Hmm," I thought, "getting closer, one more time. How can I make more money?" He responded, "Change the width of a contact card?" Let’s face it, my paper clip though eager to help, is a moron. I right clicked on him and hid him. Although, I must say, having someone sit around awaiting your command is kind of exhilarating, I brought him back out, paper clip, what should I have for lunch?... sent to me by email by my sister, The Raven There is a mouse in the hizzzzouse. Well, not really my house, but at work. It curled up and died somewhere. I'm sure of it. The smell started two weeks ago. We don't know where it's at. We just know the smell is getting worse and worse. The first week, I couldn't smell it. It started on the other side of the building. But now it's carried on into my section. I walked into the business office this morning and almost threw up from the stench. They are burning incense and candles but it's not working. Once a few years ago there was the same kind of smell and we finally found the source. It was a dead rodent in the attic of the building. Yikes. Have you ever had to deal with a dead animal in your house? What did you do? How did you find it? I remember years ago Dorp had a dead mouse in the wall of her bathroom. They couldn't figure out where the STANK was coming from so they just dealt with it. Until finally she couldn't take it anymore. They ended up having to tear a hole on the wall behind the sink and sure as heck... that is where it was. I'm getting ready to start ripping the hell out of walls in a second. ugh.
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