#6

2006.  I was trying to get used to the idea of life back in this town.   My plans of never living here again were entirely too short lived.  I made up my mind to make it enjoyable.   One plus side was being in the same town as Trishy.  I could count on never being left alone with myself too long.  Important, since I hated myself.  Well, Baby Daddy was a friend of hers.  He went to elementary school with us.  Then he went back and forth doing home-school mostly.  He went to church with Trishy.  He was also Senior's best friend for 10 years.  Giraffe was also a mutual friend of ours.  I knew him.  I decided I wanted to date him.  I made Trishy invite me to church.  A tiny little Church of Christ.  They were having a scavenger hunt for the young adults.  We divided into teams.  Trishy and Baby Daddy are my team!  I offered him the passenger seat of my car, and I turned up my charm to 11.  

In no time we were going on double dates with Trishy and Creeper (the name fits).  I know it's a little outdated, but we would send each other emails.  long, long emails.  We went out pretty often, I thought.  But, I was a little confused when it never became more often.  I never knew when he was going to call.  Or show up.  Or not.  We never failed to have a good time when he did.  I spent a lot of my time in the crazy sitting by the phone mindset.  When's he gonna call?  Maybe he doesn't like me, after all.  Maybe he only calls me when he's bored. (truth).  Maybe I should check my email.  Maybe I'll go to church with Trishy this Sunday....  And then he would call.  Or I would get an email.  Or we would sit next to each other at church.  He would show up at my job.   And I was ok.  I hated him, but I was so enamored with him. (marked by foolish or unreasoning fondness).  So much so that when I didn't hear from him for a while, I went on a man spree of numbers 7-11 in the span of a few months.  Turned out the guy was actually unable to contact me for legitimate reasons.   Which made the next part all the worse.  

He was back.  Back in church.  Back in the world.  His Birthday was the next week.  I was fully expecting a call, or something.  Boy was I wrong.  

Tell me why I am awake at 3:23 am... I could sleep but I… | leahKtutu on Xanga

I'm still not over it.. | leahKtutu on Xanga

I'm not really sure how finding out he was with Abs could so severely break my heart, but I was beyond hurt.  It was painful.  Your heart doesn't break.  A break sounds quick, and a simple fix.  Your heart rips and tears in big jolts over a period of time.  Each new revelation etching its' mark, causing its' pain.  

What happened to this girl?   (I came across this doing research on Trishy's facebook.)  This is actually from the next year during story #12, but it was my favorite.

Leah K.

Chops and Challenger.   

#2

I was a band nerd.  Though the school was so small, the band was pretty large.  So, even some of the cool kids put on marching band uniforms.  Chops was one of those guys.  He was among the elite group of guys that were in the class above mine.  I remember the first day of band as a freshman, and somehow ending up in a conversation with Chops and his friend King (the king of the school).  "You're Lindsey's little sister, right?"  "Well, my name is Leah, but yeah."  "I was in love with her! She almost took me to Prom! Tell her, King says hey."   This was another reason I never got a boyfriend.  Who wants to date the younger sister when you have a crush on the older hot one.  Anyway, I got to know Chops over the next three years.  

The summer after he graduated, my friend, Sexy, started dating his friend, TV.  I had just gone through that ridiculous break-up with Lance.   I fully committed to the break up philosophy of, "He doesn't know what he's missing." So, when Sexy was invited to a party at Chops' house with TV, I was all over it.   Sexy didn't have that nickname for no reason.  And it's not just made-up for this post.  That was her contact in my phone for 3 years.  So with her shirt, and her make-up to help me there was no risk of becoming the third wheel.  So while TV and Sexy were having a drama filled night in Chops' room, we were perfectly content in the living room.  That is until the rest of the party goers threw jello shots at my windshield for sport.  

I'm not sure if I really learned my lesson on this night, or not. But, I knew it didn't make me feel any better.  This is why I made that promise to myself for the next year.    Senior year would be about fun, not guys.  

#17

So, did I learn my lesson?  Fast forward 8 years.  It's Challenger's birthday.  His fiance broke up with him a few months previous.  He hadn't gotten back in the game. We all go out together most weekends.  Cancun, Bud, Bestie, Little bro, Challenger, and I.  Bud is always trying to hook me up with Challenger.  I thought, "What the hell! It's his birthday. He needs to get laid.  I haven't gotten laid in 4 years.  Win win?"   While it fulfilled it's purpose to change my status from only having sex with one person in my life, it failed in making me feel better.  I always felt a little angry that Baby Daddy still held that claim over me.  His number was so big, but he was my only.  I wasn't about to let it stay that way any longer.  But I chose a horrible time, and a horrible person, for a horrible reason.  It sort of makes me wish for #3 to hurry up, but that is just as stupid.  

And, I think I'm done.  This was my last meaningless float in the parade.  I want to get to the grand finale.  No more repeats.  No more crepe paper. Let's break out the roses.  

Leah K.

I think on my original list these are out of order.  CLB came before 7 seconds?  And then Married and then FS?  And this is an important theme for the segment. The reason I am grouping them all together.  It's all a little fuzzy from this time in my life.  Who knows what I'm leaving out.  

Cool

I just wanted to have fun.  I had just crashed and burned at the age of 18.  I was starting a new job at a coffee shop.  Trying to find some friends to live my life with.  I settled on a group of three fun guys.  Oh!  I forgot about the band!  That's how it all started.  I went to their band practice.  Cool wasn't in the band so we sat together and watched.  Cool had dated the whole town.  I didn't really see any reason not to get a little fun out of him.  We got along well.  We meshed.  But he liked those hot and heavy relationships. You know, where the girl thinks she can't breathe without you.  That's not me.  So it didn't last long.  Just long enough for me to find a new love for the Incubus CD he gave me.  Still one of my favorites.  I have flash backs when I hear...  "I'm floating down a river.."  

Story 6 to come later.  

CLB

I was about to turn 19.  CLB was a sweet talker.  He lived in this amazing house (one I still wish I could live in) with his roommate.  Damn his roommate was hot.  And, he could sing the best rendition of Rich Young Dumb Nymphomaniac you've ever heard.  But, seeing as how I was sitting in CLB's lap for this rendition his roommate is not the point of my story.  I ended up in CLB's lap often.  He's a big guy.  I am not big.  I feel smaller than usual with him.  He picks me up and carries me around like I'm his little toy.  He mixes my drinks.  And he talks.  And he plays guitar.  And he sings.  And then he talks.  He showers me with, "you're so beautiful"s  and calls me sugar.  And he talks.  When my birthday is a couple weeks past, my brain suddenly pops on.  It had been subdued by the massages and songs.  And the talking.  But, I finally listened, and realized I can't stand this.  I'm not a little trophy you are congratulating yourself for.  Please, just stop talking about how awesome you are.  I totally shut the poor guy down.  Stopped answering texts.  No explanation.  I have apologized since.

7 seconds

Ugh.  I can't even explain myself.   The whole time, I was thinking "Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this?"  If the card would have indicated the guy on the right instead of left it probably would have been him instead. I look back now, and I think, that's when you should have noticed you were a wreck.  But I didn't.  I was content to let myself feel like somebody, anybody liked me, wanted me.  Even 7 seconds.  Even though I had no intention of having an actual relationship.  

Married 

Married wasn't married anymore.  I wanted him when he was married.  I watched him play his guitar for his daughter, and I melted.  So a year later, when I ran into him newly unmarried I was already gone.  However, I was not one of his priorities.  And as said above, relationships and I weren't really on good terms.  This one just faded away.  

FS

He was there.  Right there.  Sitting next to me on the couch.  Sitting next to me on the bench in front of Olive Garden. Laying next to me on top of a picnic table at the lake. Talking and laughing.  Being interested in my life.  Being interested in me.  I was stupid.  I was young.  I didn't realize what it was that you were supposed want.  The guy that's there is always better than the guy you think you want to be there, but isn't.  I don't really care about the other floats in the parade.  They can stay just as they are.  They can parade with all their splendor right down Main.  I own them.  But this one, I want back.  Not as in, I want this guy in the future.  I want this moment in the past back to change it.  I think both of our futures would have been completely different even if we didn't last.  

Leah K.

Lance was the first person I wanted to call when I discovered I was pregnant.   A few months later, he informed me there was a baby in his immediate future, as well.  I remember driving by as white chairs were set out in his front yard and people arrived to witness him marry Katrina.  I remember changing into sweat pants and an Extra Extra Large T-shirt and laying on my couch trying not to bust.  When his daughter was born, I gave her Luci's old clothes.  I dropped off extra formula for them at the end of the month.  I invited them to Luci's 1st birthday.  Katrina and baby girl arrived without Lance.  

I was a newly single Mommy.  The ring finger of my left hand felt wonderfully free.  My baby girl could walk and tell me what she wanted.  I had successfully climbed out of my year and a half long depression, and entered into life again.  My phone rang in the middle of supper one evening.  "Katrina and I are over."  What a coincidence!  me too. We caught up.  Time for him to cry in my lap again.  Time to get to know each other in this new life.  We start an actual friendship again.  I couldn't count the number of times he went crawling back to Katrina.  Only for the sake of the baby, he claimed.  Luci and I attended her 1st Birthday.  A completely awkward few hours where I sat on Lance's right side and she sat on his left.  There are pictures to document the fiasco.  On the nights he doesn't see his daughter he is usually drinking. I am his drunk dial.  If I heard him say he always loved me, no matter who he happened to be with at the time, I would punch him in the face. Again.  I stood up for myself a little more this time around.  I told him it didn't mean anything if he kept choosing to be with someone else.  But, of course that falls on drunk ears.  Somehow on New Years I find myself going out with him and Jones.  I should have probably forfeited my night away from Luci, but I stayed with Lance instead.  

Then, that horrible day happened.  Miss Dixie had fallen.  I had shown up to teach and she never came into the studio.  The door was locked connecting to her house.  I had to continue class, and worry, and call for help, and deal with students' questions.  As soon as I turned on my car to come home, I was calling him.  I found my self crying into his chest.  A place I kept coming back to over the next few weeks while I dealt with the added pressure at work.  He came by to see Luci and I on his lunches.  Called every night after the girls were asleep.  Usually to discuss the divorce plans.  Hanging up the phone with an 'I love you'  which felt natural and truthful in contrast to other people I had heard it from.  If only that was what mattered.  By the end of February he was "going to give it another try with Katrina".  He hoped I understood.  

I told him that I understood, and I was proud of him for going back to his wife.  I didn't tell him he should have left me alone in the first place.  Or that I understood he had been with Katrina on Valentine's Day and didn't have the guts to tell me goodbye two weeks sooner.  I didn't tell him his "we can still be friends" speech was useless.  Not because we couldn't, but because his wife was about to make him fall of the face of the planet, again.  Never to speak to me... Until a year later when he called to say he had filed for divorce again.  I replied with a "that's nice", and I wasn't surprised when they were still married later on.  I've gotten the same call two more times.  The last time was the most recent Christmas debacle.  Involving Katrina aiming a shot gun at Lance's chest with baby girl (now 4) in the next room.    Right now, my guess is they are still miserably, hatefully married.  

I needed him for some crazy reason 3 years ago.  Now, I know there is no way he could ever be what I needed.  And when I went through that Miss Dixie fall again only half a year later, the thought crossed my mind to call him.  I no longer needed him.  Or anyone to help me through.  I let my tears fall on my own chest.  

Leah K.

I don't remember how Lance came back into my life.   It was somewhere in the second half of my 18th year. I'm sure we passed each other on the street somewhere along the way.  I remember it happened slowly.  A conversation on the side of the road.  A random visit to Cold Stone where I worked.  Weeks in between the run-ins.  Somehow we got to the point of actually hanging out as friends.  He would help me get finished at work so I could get off earlier.  Then, we would gather people up and head out for a bonfire.  Or, end up on the roof again, this time with more friends around.  I remember jumping into Jones's pool with all our clothes on.  The unfortunate (or fortunate depending on how you look at it) night when I ended up playing Circle of Death with 4 guys and fell on my face trying to do a handstand push up.  It was working out.  Lance was dating Cooper again.  They were pretty serious.  I was just one of the guys.  A place I was comfortable.  

Then, he had to screw it up.  We started spending more time together just the two of us.  He tried to wear me down and replace my no answers with yeses.  I wasn't that stupid.  As long as he had a girlfriend I wasn't about to say yes.  And he wasn't going to break up with his girlfriend unless I said yes.  So, no.  Jackass.  But, I was there when he called to cry on my shoulder (or in my lap, really) if the need arose.  That is until it was time for him to disappear again.  

Leah K.

#1

The Meet-Cute

I just turned 16. I go for walks daily.  It gets me out of my house.  It adds freckles to my arms and legs.  I can develop my love affair with the wind and the sun.  I always plug my headphones in my CD Player and put my favorite songs on repeat.  It's not uncommon for my walk down the street to become a dance down the street.  I live in the middle of nowhere.  Trees outweigh neighbors 20 to 1.  So, I guess it gives me my fix of alone time.  As I come around the second curve, to my surprise there are people ahead.   Two guys around my age are talking on the side of the road.  One is sitting on a lawn mower.  I grow a little nervous realizing I am about to meet two new neighbors.  Fast forward one foot in front of the other.  The guy on the mower is Lance.  He's a Senior, a year ahead of me in school.  The other guy is Cory.  He's only a sophomore, a year behind me.  They had both just moved into the neighborhood.  Cory was going to be the new kid at school.  Lance had been in the school district for 3 years, but we had never talked to each other.  That was about to change.  It's a few weeks later.  I've headed out for another walk.  By the time Lance's house comes into view, I see his grey shirt bobbing through the trees.  He meets me in the road, and asks me for my phone number so we can talk other than in the middle of the road.  I give it to him.  He calls.

The Friendship

We start talking a few nights a week.  Most days we will talk online, and when it's lights out we will finish the conversation on the phone from my closet.  My walks become more frequent and more nocturnal.  By October I'm sneaking out of my window to climb onto a church roof with him.  (no that's not a euphemism we actually climbed onto the roof of the church down the road).  In real life, when the sun is out, we aren't that close.  We don't have any mutual friends.  No classes together.  Our lockers are in different hallways.  In time, I introduce him to all my friends.  This backfires quite a bit.  Somehow he manages to date each one in turn.  Awesome.  I get to hear about it all on a church roof.   Then he gets an actual girlfriend, Cooper, from a different town.  This is much better.  I can handle hearing about someone I don't know.  I also get to spend time with the guy who is becoming one of my best friends without stepping on anyone's toes.  It's a great time of rock music and no sleep.  

The Crossover

It's 2004, now.  Lance is still dating Cooper.  We sneak out one night.  We commandeer a can of weedkiller, and head for an open field near his house.  For the next 30 minutes we blindly spray the shape of a smiley face into the grass.   Over the next week we see the shape become more and more pronounced as the grass dies.  You can catch glimpses of the smiley as you drive by for months.  A few days later, we head out for another night of fun.  I decided we should turn left instead of right this time, and we head towards ground I am familiar with.   His eye is swollen, and his nose looks broken because he had just lost in a boxing contest.  I was trying to take his mind off of it.  I subtly grab some mud out of a puddle.  I ask him a question.  As he answers, I slowly smear the glob of  mud down his cheek.  Well, I accomplished my goal of distraction, but I was now under attack.  An hour later, on our way back home, covered in mud we come upon a freshly erected STOP sign.  Add the muddy element, and you've got yourself an easy steal.  No need to even take the sign off the post.  Lance carries the contraband slung over his shoulders the rest of the way home.  Including when he slipped trying to get over a ditch and fell on his ass.   I was done.  All I wanted to do was kiss the poor boy, and he had to have a girlfriend.  

That changed after a couple of weeks.  Soon we weren't just sitting on the church roof.  That is, if we made it that far.  Usually, I spent a few nights out of the week in his bedroom.  One particular night, his aunt was out of town and he cooked for me and blasted Hoobastank's The Reason over and over until the wee hours.  He would always fall asleep, and I would take my ass out his window down the street and into my window.  I was late for school all the time.  enough times that I was put in In School Suspension (ISS) much like solitary confinement.  The lunch time office aid was given the duty of delivering our lunches.  Lance bribed the aid to smuggle me in a bag of gummy bears.  Only appropriate since he was the reason I was in there.  One night he fell asleep as usual, but this time I ended up falling asleep right there on top of him.  A couple hours later I open my eyes and see light.  Holy shit.  The sunrise.  I never ran so fast before or since.  

The Breakdown

Prom was an issue.  He wanted me to go with him.  The problem came from the fact that I had acquired a date while he was still dating Cooper.  I couldn't switch.  He was mad.  So he brought a slutty ex-girlfriend.  I cried in Nicole's lap.  We got over it.  I apologized by making him our own prom for just the two of us.  (really it was just a CD player and a country CD planted in a secluded place. Did I say I was 16?).  A few weeks later we were arguing about nothing and I was crying again.  A few weeks later he decided to sleep with four different girls and cause girl fights in math classrooms the day before graduation.  I wasn't involved physically, though I was told my name was mentioned.  He graduated and left for the marines.  I got one letter a few months later telling me he was in hell.  I sent one back saying that sucks I'm amazing.  I marked out his name in every journal entry I wrote for the entire year.  I got quite a bit more sleep.  

Leah K.

I use nicknames when I talk about people to my friends.  For the longest time his was Jackass.   

I attended a very small school in Texas.  I moved there right before the 4th grade.  The same 70 people were with me throughout the next 9 years give or take a few implants.  I didn't date much in school.   I was the new girl while I was still cute in 4th grade.  Really shy.  Then about 6th grade my awkward years started.  I was skinny as hell.  I got glasses the next year, and then braces the next.  I didn't grow boobs, but I did get acne.   If you haven't noticed I'm covered in freckles and I have orange-ish hair.   My classmates witnessed all of this.   My friends got boyfriends.  I got ignored.  In about the 10th grade I realized it was time to cut my hair short, and  get contacts.  I got my braces off.  I wore make-up sometimes.  But, I fear the damage was done.  The guys knew me as the unattractive little friend, and I was still too shy to make a different impact.  Sometimes I tried.  I would put on a short skirt, high heels, my contacts, make-up, fix my hair.  Mostly, I got comments from the gay guy.  "Girl, you are hot stuff today!"  Great for a boost of confidence, but useless in the area of getting a date.  

It is senior year.  I had vowed not to worry about relationships with guys this year.  It was my time to have the best year of my life with my friends.  You can open my yearbook from that year, and know I succeeded.  I had mostly blow-off classes.  I had loaded up on advanced sciences and college courses the past two years, and this year was for fun.  Art, Theater Arts, Interior Design, Apparel (sewing), Office Aid.  My theater teacher hated me.  That meant I got the smallest parts in the plays.  So, most of my time was spent in the little room off the stage with the other Small Part People.  Senior was one of them.  We had known each other since 4th grade.  Had classes together.  He knew my sister, I knew his brothers.  He had piercings and tattoos done by his self or a friend.  One of the nicest guys I knew.  Never failed to actually talk to me, which was rare.  He would ask about my friends' drama and then ask what I thought about it.  Me?  We talked about music.  We talked about his friends and family.  I enjoyed the part of the day we had together.

I got it in my head to ask him to take me out.  (If I waited to get asked out, I knew it would never happen).  I figured we could drive to the lake after school or something.  I was looking forward to Theater after lunch.  I walked into 2nd period.  To the back of the class where a group of girls waited.  We called ourselves the BLLFM and blew off the boring class putting make-up on and discussing some of the girls sex lives.  F is in a good mood.  She has some news to share.   Senior asked her out!  They are together now!...  Holy Crap!  F is a Junior.  She's got perfect white skin, big boobs, mysterious choppy black hair, and lips like Angelina Jolie.  How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?   

A little salt in my wounds Senior now sits across the lunch table from me right next to his girlfriend.  After lunch we spend time in the Small Part People room discussing how much he likes his new girlfriend.  And then 2nd periods were used to torment me with details of their sex life.  When he gets her a ring by prom time, I know I never had a chance.  A year after graduation, M (from BLLFM) and I get an apartment together.  Senior finds his way into my living room, with F on his arm.  Still asking me how my life is.  Asking me about M's drama.  I come away from the night with F's earrings being left on my kitchen counter as a reminder for me.   Facebook is also nice enough to keep me updated.  Years pass. I started to notice contradictory status updates.  F has a new man.  Lots of years pass.  I'm at The Nutcracker.  I spot Senior across the audience.  I get up to say, hello.  He says, "I figured you would be here. I'm here for my girlfriend. She's a dancer."  It's nice to know he keeps up with me, sort of.  Teenage crushes are a bitch.   He's a pharmacist/cook in Houston now.  Still comments on my facebook to ask me how I am.  

Leah K.

My best friend's mother was getting married.  I was excited to be asked to DJ.  All my job consisted of was pushing play, and making sure to play nothing but country songs.  Everyone was going through their jobs at the Rehearsal while I finished up placing Alan Jackson, Shania Twain, and George Strait into the perfect mix.  Country was a groomsman.  The bride's nephew.  My friend's cousin.  Introductions were made. The niceties were observed.  We all parted ways for the night.  

Like the good country girl I am, I pulled on my boots and shimmied into my dress for the occasion.  It had been a while since I put make-up on and did something with my hair.  Who says the girl standing by the sound system can't look good, too?  Even, if she is just a Mommy.  Tonight, the baby girl was with the grandparents.  It was time to relax and have a good time.  All the music went well.  The bride's requests were fulfilled.  The ceremony over.  The beer coolers in the back of the pick-ups were opened. Hello, Coors Light.  Time for a night of, "here, hold my beer." and, "where the hell did I put my beer?" My responsibilities were almost over.  The first dances were finishing up.  The Bride's family requests The Electric Slide.  Only if I get to join in!  here, Country, hold my beer.   The groom calls for nothing but country.  I press play on the Jason Aldean, and head for the dance floor.   Country, spots me partner-less.  "Want to two-step?" Do I ever!  A man who isn't afraid to dance.  A man with crinkly blue eyes and an easy smile.  There's no awkward unfamiliar feeling.  I've got a partner for the night.   That's not saying a whole lot, considering everyone else here is either over 50 or related to him.  

The young crowd, all four of us, decide to continue the fun elsewhere.  A late night at the bowling alley?  Sounds good.  A round of drinks.  The boots come off.  The conversation and the laughter starts flowing.  When we get back to the house, the other half of the double date goes inside, and leaves Country and I sitting on the tailgait.  I'm usually not this open and inviting.  I'm not sure what has gotten into me.  Hours of talking and a few kisses later I come away with plans to get together again.  

The next weekend for Halloween, I take Baby Girl to the Fort Worth zoo.  It's a pretty large group.  We pick up Country on our way.  He is nice enough to hang out with mommy and daughter the whole day.  No boredom.  No impatience.  Full of helpfulness.  He's carrying bags, and getting drinks, and lifting strollers over steps.  As I take him home, we are jamming to Hootie and the Blowfish, and Edwin McCain.  A good way to get on my good side.  We make plans for a date on a weekend to come.  

He drives up just for the date.  He finally gets to see me in my Saturday Game Day Glory.  He meets a couple of my friends.  He's not really a college football fan, but he watches me watch the game.  We are relaxed sitting together on the couch.  Hanging out.  My friends don't have anything negative to say.  

A week later, I'm calling to tell him not to come up the next weekend.   I'm not going to be going out with you anymore.   You're a great guy, though.  Thanks for being so nice and sweet.  I'm sorry.  Good luck with everything.   

I haven't spoken to him since.   

Leah K.

I think I might do an intensive study into my love life for Valentine's day this year.  I'm starting at the easiest one.  #15.  One with minimal damage, and a rather short span.   Go ahead and tell me how crazy I am for breaking this one off.  Give the guy a chance, right?  

Lance, Chops, Senior, FS, Cool, Baby daddy, married, 7 seconds, CLB, Lance, FS, Baby daddy, Lance, FS, Country, FS, Challenger, FS.   (the floats in the parade, for my own reference)

The Shoemaker's Wife by Adriana Trigiani

I have read the Big Stone Gap series by Adriana Trigiani.  I loved her stories and writing, so I figured this one would be a good read, as well.   I was extremely pleased with my decision to pick it up.  I was attracted to the Big Stone Gap series because it takes place in the Smokey Mountains, a place I love.  The Shoemaker's Wife takes place in the Italian Alps, then New York (and New Jersey), then Minnesota.  Those aren't really places I identify with.   It spans the time period of the two World Wars.  I love a good historical fiction.   It is based on actual family members of the author.  You even get rewarded with pictures provided at the end of the book.  

So, why did I love it?

This is a novel about The American Dream.   It's the story of four people who immigrate to America from Italy to make their lives better.  They are able to develop their talents and enter into trades that will provide for their families.  Enza is a seamstress.  She ends up making costumes at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City.  Another reason for me to love this novel.  If only I could end up making costumes at The Met.   I really wish those days still existed.  The days where people actually were sought after for their individual skills.  If you needed shoes you went to a shoemaker.  If you needed a dress you went to a dressmaker.  You were able to learn skills through apprenticeships.  You were able to take pride in your work.  Now it seems we work for a paycheck and not for a life.  

There's also a love story.   A few of them.  

Leah K.

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.  - Les Miserables

In my last post I described how I called the clinic to get an appointment for Luci.  Well, when they didn't have a "sick child" appointment available, they scheduled her for a check-up today.

My daughter has this complete refusal to speak to people she doesn't know.   No matter how nice they are, she will not speak to you unless you are, Mommy, Grammy, Granddaddy, Daddy, Aunt Colie, or Aunt Laura.  She will not speak to me in front of you unless you are, Aunt Lindsey, Uncle Ben, or Miss Tristin.  Yet, when she is at school, dance or gymnastics she will respond to the teachers after a while.  

     So imagine.   A doctor's office.  The nurse calls "Lucille".  I pick up our belongings, and Luci grabs onto my thigh.  We make our way slowly through the doorway and turn the corner to face the scale and measuring ruler.  The nurse speaks directly to Luci, "if you can step up on the scale we will see how big you are!"  No acknowledgement from my daughter.  She buries her face between my legs.  I then begin to struggle to detach her, and physically place her on the scale.  No way, Jose.  The nurse tries to help, "I bet there are stickers for you when you get done! Won't that be fun?"  Ignoring the nurse she looks to me, "Luci, do you want a sticker?! They have stickers if you do a good job."  She nods her head and whispers yes into my ear, but when I try again to put her on the scale she balks.  "Let's just see how tall she is first", the nurse offers.  I latch on.  This I can do.  I use my feet to press her feet back against the wall and hold her shoulders and head up with my body.  Done.  Now back to the scale. "Mommy why don't you get on holding her, and we will subtract your weight."  "I figured we would get to this."  I let out my breath.  Let's move on.  Hearing and Vision testing.  Oh, Lord, help us now.  

     The nurse, helpful as ever, "Luci, you can come sit on the stool and we will play a game."  Luci is still grasping me around the neck as I try to release her into a chair so that I can put our bag down.  "Can she sit in my lap? I think that's the best way."  The nurse gets started.   "What is this a picture of, Luci."  Nothing.  I ask her myself. "Can you tell mommy what's in that picture, Luci? Whisper it in my ear?"  We got a couple responses in this manner, but the progress proved short lived.  Next come the headphones.  "There is a man in the headphones who is going to say the name of one of these things in the pictures.  When he says it, I want you to point to what he says." As the nurse is explaining this to her, I fear Luci never got past the fact that she had to put headphones on.  "Look! Mommy can put them on! Do you want to try?"  Really, I wasn't surprised when the nurse gave up.  "I'm going to have to go get someone else to try."  You go do that.  While the nurse is out of the room I manage to get Luci to try the headphones.  We have a little one on one talk about why we have to do this.  The door opens, a new nurse comes in.  "Lucille? We are going to look at pictures, Lucille."  The process starts over.  She doesn't utter a word.  I do manage to get the headphones on this time due to our conversation.  The guy starts saying the items into her ear.  She just looks at the nurse and her picture chart.  "What did the man say?"  "I know you heard that, which picture is it?"  "Did he say Sailboat?"  "Well, we aren't going to get anything out of her."  This nurse gives up as well.   She leads us into a nearby exam room.  

    "Now she is going to have some S-H-O-T's today."  I know my face isn't pleasant.  Then she says, "And we will be needing some B-L-O-O-D in the lab.  From right here," as she discretely taps a finger on the inside of her elbow.  Now I know my face is a little nonplussed. "Fine."  I grit my teeth and take the news.  I'll deal with it. "Now get her out of those clothes and I'll send in the Doctor."  She shuts the door behind her.  Luci immediately bursts out, "I don't want to take off my clothes! I don't want to wear that gown!"  I tell her we have to and get to work.  I get her ready then try to distract her with crayons.  The door cracks a bit, the nurse holds a paper in her hand, "This is some info about the shots she will have today."  The door closes.  "I don't want to get shots!"  "Look! A purple crayon, Luci! So Pretty!"  The check up went fine.  She didn't cry when the doctor listened to her heart.  She let her look in her eyes, ears and mouth.  She didn't say a word.  The doctor is done.  She got off easy.  

     The nurse returns.  "Do you want to put her shirt back on? Then lay her down on the edge of the table hang her legs over.  She will get one in each.  Luckily they are combo shots and not 4 separate ones."  There is that, I guess.  Luci starts to whine, "No Mom!"  The nurse exclaims, "Well, Luci, I heard your voice!" I didn't think you had one."  She was about to hear a lot more.  She starts crying as soon as I lay her down.  I have to hold her arms, her shoulders, her hands.  The first shot comes.  Not that I can see or she can see.  Luci screams.  Her eyes pop open, tears immediately coming to the surface.  Her face is crimson.  "I'm sorry, baby. Breathe, honey."  I really don't know what I'm saying, but I know we have to do it again.  There's the scream.  Wow.  She hasn't screamed that loud in a very long time.  "It's over, Luci, it's done. We are going to get dressed now. you are OK."  Who knew pants were so hard to get on.  The nurse is done.  I'm sure she's relieved to have that one over.  Luci protests when I start to get her shoes on.  "I don't want to wear shoes, I can't walk."  I was prepared for that.  I wouldn't want to walk either.  "You still need shoes. I can't carry you, our stuff, and shoes."  And off I go, this piled upon mommy ready to walk into the Lab to sign up her daughter to get blood taken.

     She's still crying, and when she realizes we aren't done she cries harder.  Then she realizes this is going to be painful, and she cries harder.  Our name is called, and we get underway.   Again, she sits in my lap.  "Now, Mom, you are going to have to put her legs in between yours. Lock her in.  And hold her arm here. and her other wrist out straight", the new nurse directs.  Luci actually cries, "Mommy, don't do this thing to me!" I feel that stab in the heart.  The needle makes an appearance.  The screaming starts.  I talk into her ear, "Close your eyes, baby.  It's OK.  I've got you.  It's almost over. You're doing fine.  There, we are so close to being done. You're OK.  It's Done! It's Over."  She continues to cry.  By now I'm crying, too.  "Ok, Mom, just sign this form. Are you both OK?"  "Yes, we're fine, I'm sorry. Thank you."  We leave.  We cry all the way home.  

Leah K.