Medications

            “My stomach hurts.”

            I turned to look at Ramon.  His nose was scrunched up, and his head tilted as he held his stomach.

            “Were you sick this morning?”

            “No . . . Yeah . . . I don’t know.”

            “Did you take your meds this morning with the school nurse?”

            “Yes.  I always do.”

            No, I thought.  You usually forget and the nurse has to call you in.  Ramon took medication for Attention Deficit Disorder.  He took his meds at school because no one at home could remember to give it to him. 

            “Did you eat breakfast?”  I asked.  “You know your meds make you not want to eat.  And if you take your meds on an empty stomach, it makes you feel sick.”

            “I had breakfast.  I had sausage and biscuits.”  Ramon was smiling now and licking his lips.  “It was really good.”

            “Well, I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.”  It was 9:30 in the morning, and Ramon was one of two sixth grade boys in my room working.  “How are you coming on your math worksheet?”

            “Fine.”

            Ramon looked around the room searching for another diversion.  His eyes finally settled on David sitting across the table from him.  David’s head was bent over the worksheet in front of him.  Ramon stared at David for several seconds, studying him. 

            “Mrs. Jones, do David and I take the same medicine to help us focus?”

            Medications are the school nurse’s turf, so I always try to play dumb. 

            “I don’t know Ramon.”

            Ramon continued watching David.  David continued working.  Ramon continued searching for his diversion.

            “David.  What’s the name of your pills?” Ramon asked.

            David lifted his head up and stared at Ramon.

            “I don’t know.  What are you taking?”

            Ramon looked up at the ceiling, holding his chin in his hand.

            “I think I’m taking Viagra.”

            David stared thoughtfully at Ramon and then began to slowly nod his head up and down.

            “Yeah,” David said.  “I think that’s what I’m taking too.”

           

(source)

Eyes to See

“Mommy, I want to help.”

           

            My niece, Jenni, turned and watched as her three-year old daughter came running through the door into the nursery.  Below on the changing table in front of Jenni was her one-month old infant.      

            “Wait Mommy.  I want to see.”

            Her three-year old daughter pushed a little step stool over to the end of the table and pulled herself up.  Her head came up just high enough for her eyes to clear the top of the table.  She watched her mother unsnapped the onesie on the infant and then undo the diaper.

            “I like watching you change baby Charley,” the little girl said.  “Yellow is my favorite color.” 

            Not many moms think of changing a diaper as an opportunity to gaze at their favorite color, but a three-year old little girl still has eyes to see beauty all around her.

            I love the story of world-renowned violinist, Joshua Bell, playing on a $3.5 million Stradivari violin for 45 minutes in a subway station in Washington D.C. as thousands of people passed by barely noticing him.  One of the few individuals who did stop and listen was a three-year old child.  Sadly after just a few minutes the child’s mother scooted him along.

            Gene Weingarten’s article, “Pearls Before Breakfast” detailed the incident in the Washington Post on April 8, 2007.  His article won a Pulitzer Prize.  The plaintive question the article posed was, “Do you have time for beauty?”

            Have I seen beauty recently?  Two sweet-faced sixth grade boys stood at attention in front of my desk.

            “What do we do now?  We finished our worksheet.”  There was still five minutes of class left.  It was 7^th period, and it was Friday.

            “You can just draw on the whiteboard if you want.”

            Getting a free pass from the teacher to draw on the whiteboard is like winning the million-dollar lottery for a sixth grader.  The boys couldn’t even move for several seconds.  They just stood there grinning at me.  As I looked at their happy faces, I was transported back 20 years and saw my own sons grinning in total delight over a simple unexpected pleasure.  If I had kept my eyes on the computer screen checking my email, I would have completely missed it.

            What beautiful color, or music, or memory did you miss today?

Caitlyn

            She wanted to be really good at something.

            So she tried out for the cheerleading squad.  As she watched the cheerleaders at each game, she memorized their routines.  She practiced at home in front of the mirror in her bedroom.  She did the routines for her little sister in the backyard.  Her dad said she was great.  But she didn’t make the squad.

            She tried out for a singing part in the school musical.  She bought the DVD and memorized all the songs.  She practiced them in her room singing along.  Her little sister told her she was wonderful.  Her mom said her voice was lovely.  But she was assigned to the chorus.

            She went out for the Basketball team.  Her middle school had a no-cut policy, so she did make the team.  Mom bought her a new pair of sneakers.  She worked hard at practice every day and was never late.  Dad put a hoop over the garage door, and she faithfully did 50 free throws every night. During the season she always got to play her required quarter.  But as the season progressed, her average points per game was less than one.  She began dreading the weekly stat report.

            She wanted to win a medal at the Science Fair.  Her uncle helped her choose and design her experiment.  Mom and dad bought all the material and let her set her project up in the laundry room.  She explained what was going on to her little sister each day.  Mom helped her write up her experiment, making sure it was perfect.  But all she got was a participation ribbon.

            She kept trying and trying, and her parents kept telling her that her efforts were very important – that she was learning valuable lessons during all her endeavors.  But just once . . . just once, why couldn’t she win.

            She just wanted to be really good at something.

(source)

Fond Memories at Dennys

            I was in Seattle last week and ate in the Dennys Restaurant where I became a senior citizen.

            When you’re 16 years old, it’s flattering if someone thinks you’re older.  I remember a long ago airplane ride when I was returning to school.  The flight attendant approached and handed me a list of cocktails available.

            “Would you like to purchase a drink?”

            I felt like gushing, “Uh, uh, (giggle) I’m only 16.  I can’t drink.”   But I was incredibly cool, and casually looked over the list a minute then shook my head and said, “No. Nothing today.”  

            Fast forward 38 years.  My husband and I were killing time before leaving on an Alaskan cruise, and we decided to have a late breakfast at Dennys.  The waitress approached to take our order.  She turned to me.

            “What can I get you?”

            “I’ll have two eggs, scrambled, bacon, and whole wheat toast.  Could I also get a small orange juice?”

            “Certainly.  And I'll apply the Senior Citizens’ discount to this.”

            My mouth dropped open as I looked up at her.  “What?”  I looked across the table at my husband and saw he was starting to laugh.

            “The Senior Citizen’s discount,” she repeated again.  “Don’t you want it?”

            “How old do you have to be to get the discount?” my husband asked with a big grin.

            “55.”

            “Well be sure to give it to me,” he said.

            “I’m only 54,” I sputtered.  “I won’t be 55 until tomorrow!”

            “Well, I’ll  give it to you today as a birthday present,” she said smiling benevolently.  She took my husband’s order, and then briskly walked away.  I’m sure she thought the $1.50 discount she had just given me one day early made my day.

            I sat there bewildered . . . stunned.  The happy shine of the upcoming Alaskan cruise had just been smacked out of the sky.

            When I looked at my husband again, he was doing that quiet, shaking laugh across the table.

            “Happy birthday to you,” he sang.

            “Oh shut up!”

What You Can Learn From An Infant

            I had all four children visiting last week, and with them were three grandchildren all one year old and under.  Here’s what I learned from watching them.

            Babies and old people wake up before 6 a.m.

            Everyone likes bananas.

            It’s good to take a walk around the neighborhood in the morning while it’s still cool.

            Chubby thighs with rolls of flesh are cute.

            Our knees get rough very early on.

            Cartoons are still fun to watch, especially Yo Gabba Gabba.

            We all wobble when we walk.

            When you’re unhappy, you should talk about it (or yell, or cry if you don’t have words).

            It’s a good thing to take a nap in the afternoon.

            Everyone likes sweet potatoes.

            Sitting outside in the evening will help you unwind at the end of the day.

            A quiet bath before bed helps you sleep.

            Everyone smells sweet after a bath.

            No one sleeps well in a strange bed.

Mom Jeans

            I miss my Mom Jeans.

            Mom Jeans came all the way up to your natural waist.  If your top slipped up, they hid your bellybutton.  Unfortunately they showed how far it was from your crotch to your waist, making someone look like they had a humongous caboose.

            But here’s what they didn’t do.  Most of the time they didn’t show a muffin top above them.  They buttoned at the slimmest part of your torso.  Women didn’t have that roll of doughy flesh hanging over the top of the waistband when they were wearing Mom Jeans.  It was all below the waistband controlled with denim.  Have you noticed that pre-pubescent girls are the only ones without a muffin top above their jeans these days?

            But the best thing about Mom Jeans is they didn’t show your Plumbers’ Crack!  I’m sick of seeing women reveal way too much when they bend over, squat, or even sit. Go to any shoe store and watch women trying on shoes.  It isn’t pretty.

            That backside-reveal necessitates tank tops or t-shirts that are eight inches longer than they used to be under everything.  The bottom of the tops and t-shirts creep up because they’re stretchy and are seeking a place of less resistance – your natural waist.  So every time you stand up, you have to pull the top back down. 

            After about six washes, the tops shrink and can no longer do their coverage duty.  It doesn’t matter if you bought the top at Old Navy for $7, or at the Ann Taylor Outlet for $25.  They shrink in length!  And you have to constantly replace them.

            I will concede that Mom Jeans made you look like your backside was huge, especially if you tucked your top in.  But after a certain age, it’s not the huge backside that’s the biggest problem.  It’s the squishy dough around the middle.  Current styles of jeans only emphasize our bread dough middles. 

            So what do we do?  We buy big fluffy blouses and shirts to go over our tops to hide all the soft pillows of flesh billowing under our stretchy cover-it-all tank tops. 

            Those big, fluffy tops are long enough that you would have to lift them up and peak under them to see where someone’s jeans buttoned.  I could probably hide some Mom Jeans under it.  But sadly, I don’t have any Mom Jeans anymore.  I tossed my last pair during the last purge of my closet.

          I miss my Mom Jeans. 

         Weeeeellll . . .  maybe not.