The Tornado

I have to say, I've had a bit of the blues today watching coverage of all the destruction in Oklahoma, caused by a deadly and destructive tornado. Many lives were lost, many more were injured. I'm overwhelmed by the idea of what those people must be going through. I can't imagine surviving, exiting the shelter, and discovering the total mayhem and chaos left behind. Large metal pieces of buildings were coiled around light poles from the circular wind. The views from the air simply show the land below as a pile of matchsticks or large splinters. It's unbearable to think about the schools with the trapped children. I'm not even sure how, as a parent, you handle the next steps.

Then the news outlets started showing this video of the elderly woman who attempted to ride out the storm with her dog on her lap. She was thrown and the dog, her main friend, was lost. While the reporter interviews her, the dog peeks out of the rubble and is okay! I found myself weeping like a little girl. The woman is just so happy and grateful to have found her beloved pet and companion.

Why does the dog stuff get me every time?

The Soccer Players

As the youth soccer season winds down, my son's coach decided to bring the parents in for a final practice to play against their sons. My husband decided to step up and face the challenge of scrimmaging against a field full of 8-year-old boys. Within minutes, three dads were down on the ground, including my husband, who took a kid down with him. A few minutes later, I spotted my husband, leaning over, hands on knees, catching his breath.

I thought things were improving, until I saw him collide with the coach and they both went down. I almost felt like I had a front row seat watching The Three Stooges. He looked over at me at one point and made a gesture like he was checking his pulse. My husband is not out of shape. He exercises and ran the Goofy Marathon and a Half with me in January. This was not a great moment for him.

As the boys ran towards me to claim pizza and celebratory soda after the game, the men limped tiredly behind. My husband sat down and I saw that he was covered in sweat and the back of his shirt looked made of dirt rather than fabric.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I pulled a muscle in both legs." It's funny and sad at the same time. I might have chuckled, even though I felt terrible that he was in pain. "I'm old," he said.

I know the feeling. I went for a run yesterday morning, the first in months, and today I can't walk without severe pain. It's pitiful. We can just laugh about it together as we creak along in our old bones.

The Graduation

This past weekend I went to my sister's college graduation. This might seem like a normal thing to do, but with us, circumstances are a little different. I'm 15 years older than the girl, she is my only sibling and both of our parents passed many, many years ago.

Meeting people at her university always required massive explanation. The other parents, much older than me, won't speak to me because it looks like I'm her mother, and therefore was a teenager when I had her. They are not interested in that! That kind of behavior is contagious or something, right? I left my kids at home, because when they join in the mix, everyone is really confused. Who's the mother? They give up.

From our end, however, all is fine. After living with us during half of her high school years, she made it into a wonderful private school in Tennessee, worked her way through the four years, and graduated on Sunday. Mother's Day, of all days. I am proud. I am happy. And, it turns out, I am old. But not as old as the actual parents there! Ha!

The Perfect Storm

My husband just returned from a sailing trip. I can talk about it now, because he is home safely. Before it occurred, I thought my heart palpitations would never quit, just from the sheer anticipation of it all. A friend of ours lives in Vermont. He bought a boat in Maryland and asked my husband to serve as a crew member to help get the boat to its new home. My husband would sail the leg of Maryland to New York over four days. I didn't sleep for four days.

It's not that I'm worried about him sailing in general. We used to have a sailboat and he's an accomplished sailor. I don't doubt his capabilities. But this was IN THE OCEAN. They wouldn't necessarily see land the whole time. I've seen The Perfect Storm. The wife is at home when the husband dies at sea. I think the crew of this boat realized that wives might be concerned. They set up an emergency beacon and I could watch them as a little dot on the map, tracking their progress.

On Saturday, my husband called and said, "First off, we are safe." Now, consider that for a second. If someone calls and says that to you without even saying hello first, doesn't it imply that at some point, safety might have been called into question? Apparently for two days straight, they had taken a pounding and weren't ever able to make it past Cape May, New Jersey. That area is very rough for independent sail boats to travel. They recorded parts of it with a Go Pro camera (Courtesy plug: I'm a huge fan. We use it for skiing, mountain biking, everything.)

I needed Dramamine to watch the video. I kept having to look away so that I wouldn't throw up over the side of my chair, in the safety of my living room. "Imagine what it was like on the boat," he said. No thanks. Of the five guys on board, he was the only one not sick. I made him wear a seasick patch behind his ear. Sure, I may be crazy, but that often leads to good ideas. He was VERY happy he had one. Thank you. I will pat myself on the back for that one.

When he called me Saturday night and said that they were done and he would be catching an earlier train home on Sunday, I rejoiced, had a cocktail and slept much more soundly that night. He avoided The Perfect Storm, at least this time.

The Easy Dismissal

Today I had "Muffins for Mom" with my Kindergarten daughter. She had been looking forward to this all year. It was cancelled once because of school testing and she was disappointed, bordering distraught. I was really feeling the love. She smiled adoringly at me as we walked into school this morning. We meticulously chose our muffins, both of us going for blueberry, and found a seat at her class table in the cafeteria. I was getting ready to pull out the book I had brought to read, and snuggle up to her on the bench, so she would hear me tell the story.

Then her friend walked in. They squealed and hugged and started chatting like little women. I fell back into the shadow. Since it was supposed to be a reading event, I butted back in and managed to read the book out loud to both of them, but then they picked up their conversation again, my daughter essentially turning her back on me. I chatted with another mom, also left out in the cold. The bell rang. I turned around to give my daughter a hug and kiss goodbye, only to find her skipping off, backpack on, hand-in-hand with her friend.

Sigh. I feel like I am no longer needed. At least my third-grade son waved at me as he left. As long as the love comes from somewhere, I will take it in small snippets.

The Cinnamon Challenge

For real?!? Under the category of "What stupid thing will teenagers try next?" there is now a thing called the Cinnamon Challenge. In an effort to swallow a couple of teaspoons of cinnamon for the purpose of...wait, there is no purpose, the super bright individuals taking the "challenge" are giving themselves lung damage, by choking on and aspirating the powder. The videos on You Tube all show the inevitable conclusion: a choking, gasping teen, with a spout of brown/red dust geysering out of their mouths.

I know, it's hilarious to see things spew forth from a mouth. Vomit is everyone's favorite thing to watch, right? Uh, yuck. But there's no point. Nobody wins here. The poor lungs are not impressed. "All we've ever done is let you breathe. Why are you traumatizing us like this?" How will these kids ever appreciate cinnamon again? Will their bodies have an involuntary negative reaction at Christmas time, or around apple pies? "I'm sorry. I can't be here. There's just so much joy...and cinnamon."

I am a mother and desperate to figure out how to keep my kids from exhibiting such amazing bouts of awesomeness on the internet for the world, and future employers, to see. And yet, I can't help but think back to my high school days. I know quite a few people who might have taken the cinnamon challenge. And if I saw the cloud poof out of their mouths, I might have laughed. I wouldn't have done it myself, but I might have laughed. Ah...teenagers.

The Runners

I was chatting with a friend yesterday and she made a great point about the Boston Marathon tragedy.

"Whoever did this is an idiot. If you are trying to bring a group of people down, it shouldn't be runners."

It's completely true. A runner will run through extreme pain and injury to get to a finish line. Doctors, friends, strangers will tell a long distance runner they are crazy for some of the races they do. Runners don't care about that negative talk. They will run it, and they will finish it. The runner brain will accept nothing less than completion. Whoever is responsible will not scare them, or me, as I am a runner, too.

Unfortunately, so many of the injured and killed were spectators. It's disgusting that people can't support friends and loved ones in such a wonderful accomplishment without the fear or reality of violence.

Cowards. If you want to show how tough you are, don't hurt other people. Go out and try to run 26.2 miles.

In the meantime, it is beautiful to see people coming together and helping each other. It makes me happy each day when Ellen DeGeneres says "Be kind to each other" at the end of her show. Follow those words. Be kind.