10 Years

Dear Ainsley and Freddie,

Today is an important anniversary.  I don't think I can really explain it to you yet, you're still so young.  There's no way you could possibly understand the significance of this day.

Ten years ago, I was sitting in my office in Washington DC when I got an email from a coworker saying "A plane hit the World Trade Center" accompanied by an article.

I joined a bunch of my colleagues in the common room to see what was going on and I witnessed the second plane crashing into the second building.  At that point, everyone in the room got silent and we knew this was no accident.  I was driving home when the plane hit the Pentagon and I started to cry.

It's hard to explain the fear and confusion that settled into every one's bones that day.  It was like nothing I've ever experienced before or since.  For weeks and months, even years, following people were afraid of the everyday things they had done before the September 11th attacks.  Flying and airport procedure changed forever.  Going to work was different.  Saying goodbye to someone you loved meant more.

I'm not sure when I'll be able to tell you the story of that day and everything surrounding it.  How do I possibly explain the hate and evil that resides in this world?  Someday I'll have to find a way.  But for now, I'd rather you see the beauty that grew out of that day.  The community that gathered, the patriotism that sprouted, and the appreciation showed.

So today, as we remember September 11, 2001, we go shopping and watch football and eat wings and bake cookies and play and laugh and hug and sing.

That's how we honor this day...we push aside any fear and keep living.

Love,
Mommy

Don't Worry, We Had a Gift Card

I close the checkbook and toss it on top of the pile of bills.  A very familiar feeling settles over me, just like it does every weekend when I finish paying bills and organizing the finances.  Mostly fear.  Fear that they won't renew unemployment, fear that next month we'll have an emergency, fear that the savings account is almost dry.  But on top of that fear is the anger.  The anger runs hot through my heart and mind.  It burns through my veins and hijacks my thoughts.  Sometimes it's all I see. 

There was a time that I thought this would be a good thing.  That Clif could find something he really wanted to do.  That he would suddenly land in something that would change our lives.  But that was early on.  When the job loss was fresh.  Now a year in, there's not much of a silver lining.  No grand epiphany or opportunity has knocked at the door. 

I lean back in the chair and stare at the computer screen.  The numbers are in red.  I say a little prayer that my latest written check won't clear until Friday and that the groceries we have will last the week.  I place my hands on my swollen abdomen and feel the baby move side to side.  Ten weeks and he'll be here.  Ten weeks and another bill will pull from the dried up well.  Ten weeks and my pay will be slashed for maternity leave.

I breath deep to fend off the tears threatening to spill.  I'm pulled from my thoughts as the door gushes open and a giggling bouncing two year old flows through.

"Mommy!" she squeals and rushes to my arms.  Clif is behind her carrying a balloon from Chick-fil-A, a stuffed dog and the spilling diaper bag.

"Hi Ainsley!  How are you?  What have you been doing?"

"We goed to da pwaydround at da mall and goed to Tick-fa-aye!"

Clif interjects, "Don't worry, we had a gift card."  He says things like this often, we don't spend money on extras.  We use gift cards and find coupons and attend free events.

I smile as Ainsley pulls away to join her daddy on the couch.  He turns on Sleeping Beauty and they continue with their day, cuddling on the couch watching Ainsley's favorite Disney movie du jour. 

The same day they always have.  Daddy and Ainsley together always.

This post was written in response to a prompt at The Red Dress Club: This week we want you to recall something in your life that seemed terrible at the time, but looking back, brought you something wonderful.

Tiny Dancers

We are late.

I so didn't want to be late.

I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.

She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there.  Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.

We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.

I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.

We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio.  I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants.  She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.

I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window.  I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures.  So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.

At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor.  From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.

Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines.  Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back.  As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.

Fear.

Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt.  And that breaks my heart.  What if she's not good enough?  What if she can't keep up?  What if she's embarrassed?  She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights.  Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid.  She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure.  Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon.  But my fear is more about what lies ahead.  School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at.  I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.

She is not following along with the teacher at all.  She forgets to put her hands on her hips.  She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing.  But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told.  She always listens - to other people, that is.

The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.

As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.

Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!!  I am a drate (great) dancer!