Oh Taylor Swift...you adorable, little red lipped, cutie pie! I became VERY excited when I received pre-sale ticket information that your 20 something, sassy self, will be performing at Levi Stadium in August of 2015! I mean, who could be more fun to take the girls to watch in concert, than the ULTIMATE "throw that old boyfriend under the bus" by making a hit song about it, than YOU?
Sure, Taylor's dated a lot of boys. Like, A. Lot. Of. Boys. But, in her defense, who in their 20's, HASN'T? Taylor, my hat is off to you for making sure you kiss a lot of frogs before you get the Prince (who doesn't really exist, but let's just hope you find that out before you turn 30).
But much to my chagrin, (and with the aide of my dear cousin, Nicole), we sadly discovered that the cheapest tickets were going for (gasp), over 100 bucks! Come on Taylor Swift!!! You're not Jesus Christ! Even the Son of God, would like let everyone into the venue, despite whether they had the funds or not. In fact, I can almost guarantee that He would provide Salvation for FREE, and seat the most destitute, prostitutes, and lepers, in the front row!
Are you listening Taylor? Are YOU?! No, you're probably writing your next hit break up song about a boy who you met on Instagram. Sigh.
I guess I must really be searching for something to look forward to, because quite frankly, November in the Walsh house, completely sucked.
First, Abby came down with the common cold. Innocent enough, right? Well, that song and dance quickly turned into Pneumonia. By the time she had been on Anti-Biotics for 5 days, and had not improved in the least, Isabella was exhibiting similar symptoms. One more x-ray later, confirmed: TWINS DOWN. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Emma was running a fever.
The good news: Emma kicked that fever two weeks ago! Bad news: only to finally succumb to (you guessed it) Pneumonia, the day after Thanksgiving. I feel like the Candy Man, doling out ginormous, white, horse pills twice a day.
As a Mom, whenever, I am feeling overwhelmed, I contemplate, "Okay God, what are you wanting me to learn from this?" Well, I got the memo: watching your children suffer from being listless, fatigued, and hacking their lungs out, makes you REALLY appreciate when they are well!!
I can completely empathize with parents who say, "I just need this day/week/month to be over, because we need a re-start!" Good riddance November 2014!
And yet, as with most things, there is a silver lining, and this was no exception. I shot out a text to my family and friends, asking for prayers and healing thoughts. And you better believe, they delivered, with support, love, and genuine kindness.
Not only did Grandparents, Uncles, Auntie's, friends, and cousins check in daily to see how the girls were doing; they came with gifts of home made soup, and muffins, and magazines, and games for those who were subject to quarantine.
This experience left me exhausted, yes. But more importantly, feeling some tangible, concrete, and unconditional love.
It also left me feeling like I wanted to pour a triple Vodka Cran by 11 AM for about a week solid.
One night a few weeks ago, before the cursed Plague hit our home, the twins had a Volleyball Awards Banquet. Unable to attend it myself, I asked Abby about it, who sat parked at the dinner table solo, sorta slumped over her plate, looking a little dazed, but content.
"So, how did it go?" I inquired.
"Good." Typical teenage answer.
This generic info would not do. I wanted details. I wanted answers. And I realized I would need to change my interrogation technique.
"Well, I know that all the girls voted, so...(pause for effect), who got MVP? And who got Most Improved?" I continued on.
"Anjali got MVP. And I got Most Improved, but I don't really want to talk about it," she answered quietly.
"Oh honey! Congratulations! That is so exciting, but I don't understand why you're whispering about it?" I was practically hugging her from across the table.
Abby then laid it out for me simply: she didn't want to seem like she was bragging in front of her sisters, most of all, her twin, Isabella. She felt proud, but conflicted about receiving the award, because Bella did not. So Abby put the trophy under her bed in a box, as not to upset Bella.
Well, of course, me being me, and unable to leave things alone, took Bella one on one, plopped down on her bed, and asked her, "Honey, are you upset that Abby received this award?"
She looked at me, head cocked, eyes softened, and answered right from her heart, "Oh Mom, not at all. In fact, because we are twins, I feel like we both got it. I am so happy for her!"
"DID YOU HEAR THAT ABBY?!!!!" I boomed from their room, "Your sister is truly happy for you!! Come on, I want to see that trophy!"
"Thanks a lot for the therapy session, Mom," Abby replied slightly annoyed that I had gotten involved.
I can't help it. I paid thousands of dollars for counseling, man. I have GOT to put it work somehow. And on my kids? Money well spent, I'd say.
Like with most teenage daughter and mother relationships, Abby and I have hit more than a few road bumps since she started High School. I think it's safe to say a Paradigm Shift has most definitely taken place: my Poopsie is becoming more independent, pulling 12 hour school days, while balancing academics, work grant, and sports. We don't see each other for but 20 minutes a day.
She is pushing away from me. Not intentionally. But I get it, and understand that it's normal, and expected.
Please don't tell her I told you this, but it does break my heart just a tiny little bit.
Because it is a concrete reminder that time ticks on, and I can't do a damn thing to make it stop.
Abby doesn't need me to wrap her tight in a towel for a bear hug, after she slips out of the bath tub. She doesn't need my help to squirt the toothpaste out of the tube, or comb her tangly knots into the perfect pony tail. She doesn't ask me to take her to the park, so I can push her on the swings, and as she comes near me, taunt her by saying, "I'm gonna get YOU!" only to have her disappear away from me, into a giggling fit that filled my Mama spirit to the brim of overflowing.
She needs me in other ways now. But no one tells you this. No one warns you of this. Or perhaps if they do, we don't hear it because we are not ready for it...that push away.
As she stumbled out of bed this morning at 10 o'clock, as most teenagers do, we met in the hallway. And do you know what she said to me?
"Mama, I really want to hang out with you today, okay?" I stood, aghast, shocked at this request, but practically screaming in my head, "She LIKES me, she really LIKES me!!"
My Abby, my first born, she may be as tall as me, but she is still my little Poopsie.
And my heart is full.
