Truly Super Duper

REDEMPTION!

This past weekend we all went on a shopping trip to a store.
An ordinary task for most people.
But for us, it is an unusual venture. Ever since Ryan's diagnosis we have kept him pretty sheltered. We do not take him to the stores with us very often. We took him out to a store probably less than half a dozen times last year. Shopping carts have so many germs and shoppers can be quite disgusting sneezing all over my precious boy. Well, maybe not directly on him, but near enough that it invades his air space. Now that he is suffering an upper respiratory infection just days after swimming in the cesspool of consumerism and bad hygiene, confirming my fears, I believe we may never leave the house again.

So we took him to Target this past weekend. Something we probably should've done before Christmas if we wanted to spare ourselves the embarrassment of failing the most important parental seasonal duty. <<see Santa Fail for details>>

We had a bunch of stuff to return (duplicates of gifts) so we were pretty excited about having a gift card to spend! We walked to the back of the store towards the toy section. To be honest, we had our doubts that we would find anything to fit the bill.

"Okay buddy here we are! Now we are going to look at some toys and we need you to tell us if you see the Super Duper Lightning McQueen Thingy." I explained.

"What does it look like again?" Robert tried to get him to divulge more info.

"It's super duper and has strings on it." He had just mentioned this small detail to me last week when I prodded him once again for info. I dismissed it at first but now I am not so sure. Now I am even more confused.

Great. Strings on a toy car? A car puppet? Doesn't make sense.

We slowly proceeded down each aisle and pointed out each Cars toy we thought might be the elusive prize. He dismissed them all. We even tried to play up the coolness of some of them, desperate to fill the void of his crushed Christmas dream, hoping he would be somehow convinced that this particular toy within our budget was super duper. But alas, he was not easily impressed.

We were coming to the end of the toy section. The aisles were now filled with clearance merchandise of rejected overstocked misfit toys. Our hopes were dim but we trudged forth.

Then we spied an entire shelf of large boxes with the Cars 2 logo. We studied the box and discovered it was a slot car race track, much like the ones we remembered having as kids. We reminisced for a moment then focused on our task.

This was not cool enough to be it. Could it be?

Then we saw it. There in the picture on the box, a child holding a remote that had a wire leading back to the box attached to the race track. As if it both occurred to us at the same time, Robert and I said "Strings!"

"Is this the super duper thingy?" I cautiously asked.

"He looked up from his giant Icee cup which was now half gone and nonchalantly said, "Yep, that's it." No thrill, no excitement, no jumping gleefully, no hugging and kissing everyone as he ran through the aisles crying with joy. Nope, nothing. Not the reaction we were expecting.

"Are you sure this is it?" Robert prodded.

"Yep, that's the one. The one with strings." Again, clinical, dry. As if we should've known this from the start. But this time he perked up slightly as he reached for the box to get a better look.

I could see a glimmer in his eyes. The look on his face - truly super duper! This was it! We had finally found it! The holy grail of Lightning McQueen toys - and at an incredibly discounted price! Who knew it would be a slot car track!

I must've been displaying that concerned look on my face that revealed my doubts of it's value as a toy worthy of our household. Robert looked at me then searched the box for battery information.

You see I have an unwritten checklist of toy ownership feasibility. He knew what I was thinking. This toy failed miserably. Being a Libra I like to weigh the pros and cons of EVERYTHING. I am quite proud of the skills I have to make decisions, the only problem is it sometimes takes forever to reach that decision. This one did not take long. My thought process went something like this: (and yes, there are 3 colorful voices in my head arguing at all times, a la 3 Stooges - the classic one, not the one with that modern day reality TV stooge - I can't even bring myself to post a link)

Does it require batteries? YES

Does it look like something we will have to change the batteries on often? of course 

Ugh! Let me guess, probably a size we do not have.

What size? D's
As I guessed, we do not have any - in fact we just gave some away for Christmas

Does it make noise? Yes.
Typical, though not a deal breaker

Does it have parts small enough for Rowan to eat? Yes.  
Uh, she'll try to eat anything
Does it look like they can get hurt playing with it? Huh! 
I can almost envision the blood.

Could they use the parts as weapons? Yep 
more blood. not looking good.

Are there many pieces? Yes  

about a zillion

Does it look like it's going to break? Uh,  

yes.

Do you have to put it together? ...

Duh!

Once together does it stay that way? :(

Warning! Warning!

BUT...

Is this the toy he wanted? Yes! Will he love it? Yes!! Will it relieve my guilt if I buy it? YES!!!

SOLD!

This year I'll be stocking up on batteries and taking him to the store in November, in a bubble, with plenty of Purell and antibiotics on hand. In the meantime, I need to brush up on my kid-speak deciphering skills.  As Lightning McQueen says, "Wish me luck!"

disappearing me

I spent so much time working on "who I am", defining my existence, making a niche for myself in this world.  It was important to me.  It was a driving force behind all of my decisions.  I wanted to stand out, be unique, an individual, a rare example.  It turns out that none of it mattered.  I was selfish and didn't know it.  I know it now.

Not everything changed once I got pregnant.  That's when it started, but I was still over confident.  I thought I had it all figured out.  I could continue working full time.  We could live comfortably in this cute little house I bought.  We would be healthy and happy and want for nothing.

When I first held him in my arms I became a mama bear.  Nothing mattered except him.  For the first time ever, I was focused on someone other than myself.  The intensity of this feeling overwhelmed me.  The sight of him had me grinning uncontrollably.  I cried tears of joy at the very thought of him.  I forgot all about my needs, desires, and comfort and spent up every ounce of energy into giving myself completely to this tiny ball of life that I created.

Suddenly who I was, and who I used to be no longer mattered.  The only thing that matters is who I am now.  My children do not know or even care about who I was.  They only know me for who I am now.  I try to be the best mom I can be for them.  I try really hard and some days I feel like I failed them.  Other days I don't try at all and I feel successful.  I do it all for them.  I am focused on them instead of myself.  I let the old me waste away.  She's no longer important.  Her dreams have faded and instead have been replaced by the new hopes and dreams of what I want for my children.  I want them to be happy, healthy, and good.

When you have a critically ill child, this feeling intensifies a hundred-fold.  Nothing else matters but him.  It is hard to even think about simple things like eating, sleeping, & hygiene.  There are a zillion other things to worry about and stay focused on.  And time is precious.  Why waste time doing stupid, non essential things when you don't know how much time you really have.  It is frustrating.   

I define myself now by my children.  Who they are, is what I am.  I am nothing without them.  The thought of losing him... it would be like losing myself.  Who am I without him?  I would be nothing.  I am scared.

No More Small Potatoes

I feel like a teenager again; invincible and filled with nervous excitement, not knowing what the future holds.  My potential seems limitless.  I have the confidence that I can now accomplish anything.  My future is filled with unknowns but there is a sweet excitement of what lies ahead.  It is an overwhelming swell of positive energy that I can physically feel shining inside me, bursting at the seams.

I feel worlds apart from anyone who doesn't have this light, but I don't mind at all.  I see their strange looks of curiosity, or their blatant stares of confusion, or their flat-out annoyance and avoidance.  I see this but I am not swayed, not concerned, nothing can stop me.  All that matters is how I feel right now, in this very moment, and it is magnificent!

I had set goals before.  I once had dreams.  I have experienced success as well failure.   All small potatoes.  The bar was never set high enough for a real challenge.  The hurdles I had overcome in life were all placed there by me, detours I ultimately created, pressures I put on myself.  Sometime I won, and sometimes I lost.  In retrospect, I never really had anything to lose.  Not like this.

This is was something no one would ever wish for, something no one would ever want; the hardest thing I have ever been faced with in my life.  Something unplanned, unforeseen, unexpected.  This was an obstacle that was not chosen, but a goal that was necessary, unavoidable, and the epitome of importance.  Nothing had ever been this important.  The gravity of the situation paralyzed me at first.  It seemed there was nothing I could do.  Helpless, hopeless, afraid.  I was being hurdled at this insurmountable hurdle, kicking and screaming and terrified out of my mind.

I had no choice but to face this.  There was a voice inside me.  The one who always doubts, always criticizes, always seems reasonable.  The one who stops me from moving ahead, from trying new things, from believing in positive possibilities.   In that moment I chose to not listen to the voice.  I chose to only look toward the positive, the goal that once seemed unattainable.  I narrowed my focus.  The odds that were stacked against a positive outcome were now in my blind spot.  This goal became the center of my life.  My new motto was "whatever it takes."  My determination fed off of positive energy and the energy grew with my determination.  The cycle was endless. 

Astonishment came from people outside of the situation who only saw the negative.  They did not know or understand how I could feel this good, be this happy, seem so calm and relaxed.  The positive energy gave me strength.  And that voice, it has been stunned into silenced.  It is still present, but I imagine it's choking on this potato.  I believed, truly believed, in nothing but the positive.  Some people call this faith.  I had faith that the goal could be achieved.

This achievement was not even mine really, yet I feel so proud of the accomplishment.  This was a matter of life, a life I cherish, a life that has been renewed.  The life of my child.  And although it was not my life that has been saved, I feel the fire of life has been reignited within me.  My life has been irreversibly altered, for the good, by this challenge.  My life has been rejuvenated with hope.  My life is now filled with amazing potential. 

Aspirations and dreams seem attainable.  Setting my sights higher seems only natural.  No more small potatoes. There is endless opportunity, and the hurdles and challenges to get there are now dwarfed in comparison.  I'm taking chances.  Risk seems like such a silly little word.  I am no longer afraid to try new things for fear of failure.  It isn't really true failure.  There is no real risk.  There really is nothing to lose, nothing of importance anyway. 

There is no such thing as failure, only different outcomes, different paths.  The path I am on now is golden, lined with endless rows of giant potatoes of possibilities.  And oh, how I love potatoes!