Flip, flop, and then…just STOP?

So.

I have been avoiding this topic. When I think about it, it really upsets me. For lots of reasons. Mainly because it made The Beans very sad, and that alone makes me feel like a failure as a parent. One who is powerless to fix the problem this time. And I’m a fixer, which adds salt to an already infected wound. Throw in that my Sugar Bean wrote this, not too long ago, and I am all sorts of a hot mess at the moment. Minus the hot part.

All three of The Beans are gifted gymnasts. I know, I know. Everyone thinks their kid is the best at what they do. This is different though. They have a raw, God-given ability for this sport. Seriously. Anyone who has seen them at their meets agrees. Their coaches agree. Total strangers agree. I’ve had parents ask what kind of super-food I feed them. LOL. They are the gymnastic equivalent to a trio of piano prodigies.

It started when Sugar Bean was 4 years old. Thinking it would be something fun for her, I took her in for an evaluation at a popular, gymnastics school. After exhibiting super-human strength by zipping up the rope and ringing the bell mounted on a beam at the ceiling of the gym…she landed in the preschool advanced class, and I was asked if I was ready for the world of competitive gymnastics, because my little one was, “freakishly strong and coordinated, showing real promise in the sport”. “Bring. It. On.” I said. For 3 years she trained, 4 days a week, alternating team classes with private lessons, etc. By age 7, she was performing skills that girls much older than her had not mastered. Her technical ability far exceeded her psychological understanding of it, and how very gifted she was. The older girls on her team were mean to her. She burnt out fast, and getting her to the gym became all about the meltdown. It was a distraction for her teammates, and The Man flat refused to take her. Ever. Despite the fact that I was very pregnant with #2. Too much for him to handle. She asked to quit. We had no choice but to allow it. I figured the best thing to do was bide our time and see if she rekindled her excitement and passion for it sometime in the future.

She did.

Just before her birthday last year, she announced she wanted to return to the sport. A family member overheard this, and offered to be the financial benefactor, as The Man and I just haven’t been in the place to allow anything like that in the past few years. After some discussion, we agreed to let this happen, and thanked them profusely. Of course, now we have two more daughters, who decided they also wanted to give it a whirl. Asked if that was okay? No problem. Everyone could participate 🙂 Happy dances all around.

We found a wonderful facility, with outstanding and nurturing coaches and staff. Each of the girls started class in September. A month in, the older girls were asked to join the team. The Oldest was placed in Level 4, where she had been when she quit. Amazing, considering she had been on hiatus from the sport for five years. Butter Bean landed in Level 3, after only 6 training sessions…EVER. Sweet Pea was placed in the “Hot Shots” which is the class just before Pre-team. ALL THIS HAPPENED WITHIN A MONTH. Soon, everyone was training several days a week, and competing in meets on weekends. At every meet, their scores would soar higher and higher in each event. It was clear, they were blessed with skill for gymnastics. ALL OF THEM. And they beamed with excitement and pride after every competition. Scores aside, they were happy, which made me happy.

Flashback to 10 days ago. The day before this happened.

I got the heartbreaking news they would no longer be able to continue their training due to financial reasons. All of a sudden. Dreams dashed. While I understand completely, I am shattered. It’s an expensive sport, and we simply can’t shoulder the financial commitment at this time. Eventually, perhaps, but not at the moment. Since it was the beginning of the billing cycle, I called the gym to let them know The Beans would not be returning until further notice. Their coaches were shocked, to say the least. For 8 months now, the gym has been our family’s second home. We were there at least 10 hours a week. Most of my blog posts have been written via laptop from the lobby of the gym. Seriously.

Their main coach said “This is the worst afternoon of my life. Let’s talk about this. Let me see if I can speak to the board and find a solution, some sort of help. Would you and your husband be willing to help with activities and such in exchange for some tuition assistance? The loss of your girls to this team, and your family to this facility would just be too much. They love it here, are having fun, and we love your family. There has to be something that can be done.”YES! Of course we will do whatever it takes to keep them training. We just can’t shuck out $800 a month in tuition, in addition to meet fees, equipment expenses, etc.” I replied. He said he would let me know.

I’m still waiting….but hopeful.

Meanwhile, the most devastating part is we made a commitment, and can’t ful-fill it. They have missed a whole week of training so far, and were supposed to compete again in a week. As a family, we’ve let the team and the gym down. As parents, we have let our daughters down. Epic parenting fail #12,832.

How do I handle this? Literally, and psychologically. Have any of you ever run into something similar? There has to be a way, because there is definitely a will here.

If I hear something, I’ll post an update. Promise.

 

 

Sisters hugging it out before a meet.

Sisters hugging it out before a meet.

 

Our first family loss :-(

Leroi, the day he joined our family, at 16 weeks old.

Leroi, the day he joined our family, at 16 weeks old.

A year has come and gone. Flown by, in fact.

Today marks the second of two very sad anniversaries. The first was April 27, a devastating day in 2011 that changed the lives of many friends and family members as well as so many others back home in Alabama. You can read about that here.  Now I am looking square upon the anniversary of a less destructive, yet equally painful day. The day we bid farewell to our beloved, furry family member, Leroi.

Leroi became part of our family in May 2005, after I found a photo of him online and decided I had to have him! Off I went to a place called Puppy Playground, located in the eastern part of Los Angeles. Shortly, I returned home with him, and I must say, at a tender 16 weeks old, he was one of the cutest puppies I had ever seen, in both looks and personality! So adorable in fact, his picture was chosen to be among a group of photos featured in the credits for the Disney film “Shaggy Dog”. The Man happened to be working on that project when we got him, and showed off his picture. That’s how he got the gig…lol 🙂 If you haven’t seen it, you should. And look for Leroi at the end. It’s the same picture shown above. He would surely wag his tail at that!!

So. The story of his name. Kind of a no-brainer, for those who know me best and are aware of the things I am passionate about. He was named for the late LeRoi Moore, the former saxophonist for the Dave Matthews Band. You see, the meaning of the name Leroy is “king”, and his breed is just that: Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Also rather ironic, is that our Leroi’s last home on earth was on Moore Street, where our family moved a year ago.

Although we had 2 other precious doggies when we got Leroi, he was quite special. Rarely did he bark, and he never met a stranger. Whenever someone came to the house, he would wag his entire body with excitement! Our cue to let him out to potty was the sound of his wagging tail banging against the water cooler beside the door, so loudly you couldn’t ignore it. Oh how I miss that sound! A very smart doggie indeed, but somehow I could never teach him to fetch like our little miniature Dachshund, Edie. But I digress. Leroi was very sick for the last years of his life. Almost 4 years ago, he was diagnosed with diabetes, as the result of obesity. Hard to keep scraps away from the furry friends when toddlers are in charge of food and delight in sharing when you aren’t looking. Unfortunately, Leroi was more than willing to share in their joy of giving, and the overindulgence in snacks caused a severe case of pancreatitis, and thus, diabetes. When he fell ill, we rushed to our vet, giving her instructions to do whatever was necessary to save him, regardless of the cost. He was one of our children…just a canine one. At only 3 years old, he deserved a chance. We prayed to God, a miracle was granted, and he pulled through. After two shots a day for another 3 years, the disease got the best of him, taking its toll on his system, causing him to be 100% blind and to have a heart attack. Strange how very similar animals and humans react to the same diseases over a span of time.

He got very sick in the midst of my massive relief effort for the Alabama tornado victims. Again, we rushed him to the vet, where he spent 2 full days trying to recover. They stabilized him enough so he could come home, but the outlook was grim and we were told it would only be a matter of time before his body gave out. The Man and I agreed we would not be selfish when we knew it what had to be done. He would not suffer. The time came on Mother’s Day of last year. Of all days! Rather ironic, considering he had been my Mother’s Day present (to myself) 6 years earlier. It was an extremely challenging decision and an emotional time. The Girls were very sad and crying, but were able to say goodbye which was important, it being the first time they had been through the loss of a pet. I was beyond consolation. My friends, Kim and Ray drove me and Leroi to the vet, where I held him as the staff helped him pass into Heaven. He went peacefully with no resistance. He wagged his tail just a bit and drew in his last breath as I cradled his head, whispering “We love you” repeatedly. It was time, and he let me know it was okay to let him go. The only thing I can compare it to is being in the room with Mama when she passed. As she took her last breath, with her eyes closed, she exhaled with a big smile on her face. She was with Daddy, and wanted us to know. Peaceful, loving closure to a very full life. All dogs go to Heaven, so I have no doubt that Leroi…and now Lester…are with my parents.

We decided to have a private cremation and to keep his ashes until we know where we would like him to rest eternally. I made a call to Very Important Pet Mortuary in Venice, California. Carol is the sweet lady I spoke to about the arrangements. During the course of the call, she inquired about my Southern accent and asked where I was from. When I said Alabama, she asked if my family was okay. I told her yes, and spoke of my relief efforts through the newly formed cause, California for Alabama, and how the timing of it all was just so tragic and difficult. With that, she said she would like to help the cause by donating her services. In turn, I would donate the fee to the relief efforts. Of course, I agreed, and am happy to say that in loving memory of Leroi, who only knew love and companionship, the relief resources were increased a little. In life, when it rains it pours, both good and bad, but most often from storm clouds, right?

I’m sure his tail is banging against the water cooler in Heaven, knowing that he helped too 🙂

xo,

N

Leroi. January 16, 2005 ~ May 8, 2011

Leroi. January 16, 2005 ~ May 8, 2011

Good MORNING, radio listeners!!

 

Old ass radio. Or 'vintage' if you prefer.

Old ass radio. Or ‘vintage’ if you prefer.

After two days of crying because of this, I was due a day of smiling, and some gut-busting laughter. That opportunity came today, after I picked The Beans up from school.

Every Thursday is ‘banking day’. Which roughly translates into ‘an excuse for our school district to make you pick your kid up early‘, I believe. I could be wrong, though. It’s happened before…on occasion. Anyway, because they get sprung early, we’ve made a sort of ritual out of the afternoons by going to Fro-Yo immediately after school. They get a treat before starting homework, I get to ‘check in’ on Facebook from somewhere besides my living room, so people think I have a life. It’s a win-win.

Well, today was an extra special treat.

On the way to Fro-Yo, we were listening to Radio Disney. Not such a strange thing, except today I was driving The Man’s car, and he doesn’t have the fancy-schmancy XM Satellite radio like my mom-mobile does. The music was coming through on AM1110, an AM station…complete with static. The hilarity ensued when….

Butter Bean asked, “What’s that noise, Mommy?” I reply, “That’s the radio, sweetie.” Sugar Bean chimes in with “You know, it’s the satellite causing the static.” Immediately, I correct her and say, “No, this car doesn’t have XM. The music is coming through on an AM station, and they can be static-y”. With that, Sugar Bean says “It figures. Why is this station even on right now? I mean, it’s an AM STATION. Don’t they only come on in the morning?” She said it with just enough certainty, there was no doubt she really believed it.

I almost peed my pants and crashed the car simultaneously, because I was laughing so hard. Seriously. Did my kid just say that? It was gooood, people. Priceless, in fact. I needed to tell someone right then.  So I called my sister. Both because I knew she would laugh her ass off with me, and also because she raised 2 daughters who had ‘those’ moments too, and wouldn’t think I had birthed a child whom I believe is quite smart, only to discover she the village idiot at the ripe old age of 12. The Man was at work, and unreachable,  so sharing this bit of comedy with him was out of the question 🙂

My sister reminded me of a conversation, that took place between my niece and I, while I was home visiting with Sugar Bean, who was only a year old, circa 2000. Meaghan was 15 or so, and I was 29. We were hanging out discussing the fact that she was the hardest person in the world to get out of bed for school every morning, despite the obnoxious alarm clock she owned.  Her alarm clock would wake the entire house, by blasting the Nickelodeon jingle “Nick, nick, nick, nick, na-nick, nick, nick….NICKELODEON!!!” at a decibel level that may not even be legal. They lived in rural Alabama, in a fairly large house and Meaghan’s room was upstairs. Everyone who slept downstairs could hear it. Their house sat on 110 acres, and their neighbors could hear it. Despite it being on her nightstand; she never stirred. Never hit the snooze button, if it even had one. And no, she isn’t deaf. Shocking, I know. Each morning started with someone else barging into her room, banging on the alarm clock until it shut up, and literally dragging her out of bed. Every. Morning.

Anyway, as I was complaining about the alarm clock waking the baby up every morning, she rebutted by saying, “Hey now. I love that clock. It’s a really good one. I’ve had it since I was in the 4th grade, and never once had to replace the batteries.” As I sat in complete disbelief, I calmly said “Meaghan. Does it plug into the wall??” “Uh-huh,” she replied, smiling at me with her big blue eyes wide open. I just shook my head and said, “It’s electric, Blondie.” We both erupted in laughter, and I’m pretty sure I wet my pants. The laugh was absolutely worth it.

I vowed to never let her live it down.

Here we are in 2006, acting like complete goofballs. She's a gem :-)

Here we are in 2006, acting like complete goofballs.

Pajama Panic

Story of my life.

Story of my life.

Tomorrow is Pajama Day at The Girls’ school. It happens year after year, and inevitably, I experience the same freaking anxiety each and every time. Seriously. I need a mainline of Valium straight to my jugular in order to calm my neurotic ass down tonight.

While I should be excited that I don’t have to get them properly dressed in the morning, I am actually thinking…

“Fuck, fuck, double fuck! Who’s brilliant idea was THIS? He/she needs to be kicked out of the PTA.”

Why, you ask? Because my children wear the rattiest, most mismatched shit to sleep in you have ever laid eyes on. Comfy? Absolutely. Presentable to wear in public? Hell to the no! I have 3 girls, so pajamas are handed down and worn completely thread bare. Even MY pajamas are pathetic looking. Because nobody is actually supposed to see them. And I am horrified by the thought of my sweet angels being judged by their attire, and talked about in hushed tones by all the kiddos who probably have brand spanking new pj’s on tomorrow. Call me vain. Whatever. Kids are cruel. I know it, and so do you.

Nonetheless, I resisted the urge to run out today and purchase cool new pajamas for The Girls. That’s progress, right? Well don’t reward me yet, because I am seriously entertaining the possibility of letting them play hooky in favor of a Mommy/Daughters day complete with mani/pedis, or perhaps an educational outing to a museum or even a trip to the zoo.

Anything to avoid Pajama Day, for Pete’s sake. 

Ugh.

 

 

 

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