raising cain & clueless

This is why I don’t believe.  The second I align myself on one side or another of a concept I realize I’m standing on the wrong side. It’s like turning your back from one lone guy hanging out in a hot springs to as privately as possible strip out of your swimsuit only to realize you’re now mooning an entire family. Oops, my bad.

What am I bitching about? Beach.  So, I write a blog titled nothing is impossible except for that about how her internal drive for perfection is noted but not an issue.  And like all truths the second I speak it, it is no longer true. I'm the magic eraser of fact. I should write history books or political memoirs, maybe help out in the witness protection program.   

Thursday 7AM

Salt Lake City, R.B farm

All is well.  We read some Children’s book, watch some PBS, poke some baby chicks, do some spelling, & math.
I lose my shirt in the game of LIFE to a kid who according to the box is not technically old enough to play.

Later I had to talk her into watching a movie with me instead of cleaning her already clean room.

Thursday sometime after 4:00 PM

Gymnastics Training Center

Walking on your hands not going as well as she would have liked.  Fact one, she does it just as well as the rest of them minus one freak kid who could join up with the circus right now. For full disclosure that one kid is Beach’s favorite buddy but someone else doing well is not the issue for Boo, her struggle is all internal.  Arms crossed, kid is pissed, team sent for a drink, coach working her magic, parents on the group W bench laughing with me, no wait that is laughing at me.    

6:45 PM

Interstate-80

A little parental guidance on the car ride home; “Don’t you think you can laugh stuff like that off like you do when you guys are messing around & you screw up?”

“No mom. I can’t. I’m not like that.  Not in gymnastics it is very serious for me and I don’t want to laugh about it.  If I did I would still feel like crying so it wouldn’t matter to me. I would know.”

“Okay. I get that, but you don’t want to wear your coaches thin with melt downs over every little thing, do you think you could consider trying to relax a little?”

“No, I’m not that kind of girl.”

Then I remember that dang high blood pressure thing. Yes, my 7 yr old has higher than average blood pressure even when she does not have a head injury.  If you’ve read biblical weather patterns cause head injuries in children you might be thinking what the hell, she said it was the head injury?!?!

See what I mean about me lining up on the wrong side?!?! 

I start thinking about all the little pieces of advice dished out over the years from her doctor who had Beach pegged as 'driven' at 13 months.  What past teachers & coaches have said about Beach's focus and drive.  And what it is like to be your own harshest critic.

If any one cares I don't want to be the mom of a Quinton 'Rampage' Jackson.  The three older R & B kids do not have this issue.  They think they are great when they are great & they think they are great when they aren't so great. Great. Every body's happy.  Unfortunately Beach is the only child in the tribe genetically engineered by Colby & I together; what is the difference between a Mule & a Donkey?  A Mule is a domesticated, hybrid animal that results from crossing a mare (female horse) & a jack (male donkey).  A donkey is a domesticated ass. An Ass is a four-footed, hoofed mammal related to the horse, but smaller, with longer ears and a shorter mane, shorter hair on the tail, & a dark stripe along the back. A jackass is simply a male ass. The ass is wild; the donkey is domesticated. (You choose which is which).  

Thursday 7 PM

Salt Lake City, R.B farm

We eat dinner. We share the good news about Beach making team with dad. We watch Wipe Out, play a couple games of memory, get my ass handed to me again in LIFE (who can live on a teacher’s salary?!?!).  Read a chapter in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  She gets herself ready for bed and tucks herself in, in her spotless room.

Friday 6AM

Salt Lake City, R.B farm

I have a headache. It is so bad I can’t fully open my right eye, diabetic bread hang over. I lay in bed waiting for Colby to bring me a mercy cup of coffee.  Beach crawls in under the blankets to snuggle & begins pushing for a play date with a gym buddy.  And of course I’m a mom, a cool mom, but a mom none the less so I’m still worrying about little Tonya Harding, I mean Beach, wondering how I’m going to get through to her. I roll over peering into the TV room watching Kilo laying across the board of LIFE fake money stuck to his nose. “Beach you need to clean up LIFE or it is going to get ruined.”

“No I don’t mom," she giggles, "I don't need to clean up my life because it is perfect just the way it is.”

Okay, maybe I will talk to her coach instead.  What will I say? Laugh it off. Someone has to. 

After all, win or lose, LIFE is just a game, right?  Maybe I would do better if I read the instructions...