Jacob: Knock knock

Daddy: Who’s there?

Jacob: Interrupting cow.

Daddy: Interrupting—-

Jacob: MOOOOOOO!

*************************************

Daddy: Knock knock

Jacob: Who’s there?

Daddy: Interrupting butthole.

Jacob (giggling): Interrupting—

Daddy: Pfffffffffffft!

*************************************

Cody: Na Na!

Mommy: Who’s there?

Cody: Pfffffffffffffffffffft!

I’ve spent most of the month of May 2012 hemming and hawing over whether or not to go through with this year’s Avon Walk. Last year was an amazing experience, and I was so excited to raise money and push my body once again. I was excited to celebrate that my two friends who were diagnosed with breast cancer in 2011 are now healthy, and relish my own good health by walking for those who can’t.

On April 27, I woke up with a sore back which quickly explosed into something more than simply lifting my children in an unergonomic fashion.  Since then, it feels like I spend more time with medical professionals than my family, take more sick days than I’d like, and my life has pretty much ground to a halt as I figure out pain management and the next right thing for my health. I have a slipped disc in my back and it has recurred at the worst possible time.

It seems kind of insane to keep a committment of walking for two days in seven week’s  time, but the thing is, I know that I will get better. I am beginning to string together days in which I can function more, and with the help of accupuncture, chiropractic and standard Western medicine, I will be bending and twisting and walking for miles soon enough.

There are too many women out there who can’t say the same. Too many mothers, daughters, sisters and friends. TO DAMN MANY. They are recovering from surgeries, losing their hair, and dying of breast cancer. And if they can do what they do, I can walk a few miles.

Full honesty here, it is very unlikely that I will walk 39 miles in two days (47 days from now), but I am committed to walking as much as I can for the next seven weeks, and I’m pretty certain that I’ll be able to walk atleast two-three hours each day because I don’t need surgery and just a couple of days ago, my chiropractor said, “I’ve got this,” and for the first time in almost a month, I felt a surge of hope.  

Please donate to the Avon foundation in support of my walk, there is no number too small (especially if we have never met in real life). And if you feel like spreading the word by reblogging, that would be awesome.

Oh, and here’s the link. Get yourself some $5 Karma instead of that coffee.

Dear You,

There are millions of you, but I only know a handful. You are my neighbor. You are in my book club. You are my sister. You gave birth to me. You gave birth to my husband. We are related by blood, we are related by marriage. You clean my house. We work together. We went to college together. You married my brother in law and you are now my friend. You married my friend and you are now my friend. We met on the internet.You get the picture.

Sometimes we lock eyes over a screaming toddler in Target, it may be mine, it may be yours, but we look at each other and think, “I’ve been there.”

Sometimes we lock eyes over a precocious toddler in Target, it may be mine, it may be yours, but we look at each over and think, “I want that.”

Sometimes we look down our noses at each other, for what we feed our kids, for how we parent, for how we discipline.

We judge each other for only having one child, or having more than two.

Let’s take a break, okay?

Whether I know you or not, I know this much is true: You are a GOOD mother.

You snap at your kids, you let them have too much candy or tv or whatnot. You make mistakes. And still, you are a GOOD mother.

You are a good mother because you went into this whole deal with love.

You are a good mother because you question yourself.

You are a good mother because you read labels.

You are a good mother because of the giant balloon that has replaced your heart, the one that allows you to swing from annoyance to joy in the span of minutes.

You are a good mother because every day you get up, you feed, you hug, you wipe butts and noses, you sing “Twinkle Twinkle” a thousand times, you watch “Cars” a MILLION times.

I have no idea why, but in my heart of hearts, I know I’m a good mother. I know that I make mistakes every single day. I know that I could stand to have more patience, and more perseverance when it comes to the green vegetables. And yet, I still know that I am the best mother for my kids simply because I am their mother. 

I don’t know if this is denial or the grace of God, but it is a gift, and you, whoever you are, if you are reading this and a mother, I hope that you share the same gift. And if you don’t have this today, I’ve got plenty to spare, so please let it wash over you and seep in. You deserve it.

You are a good mother. Happy Mother’s Day.

Every day for the month of May, I will wake up at 5:30 am. Maybe it’s the double narcotics I’ve been taking for a back injury, but it seems like a nice way to limit the chaos of the morning routine, and get a little quiet time. I mean, it’s only 31 days right?