Of fire trucks and dreams

Clone needed black pants for her band concert this week. She hit a growth spurt RIGHT after we got her a pair for the December concert. Such is our luck, right? So, off to a second-hand store that sells kids' clothes. The store has this giant toy firetruck near the registers, with a sign on it that it's not for sale, just for fun.

Clone was in the dressing room, repeating every try-on session I've ever had. We've got ample bootie, and it poses challenges with proper fit, and my need to veto a lot of what she has tried on for putting too much cash and prize on display. She's got a long femur too, so it's a trifecta making virtually every skirt or pair of shorts too far north on her legs. I was poking around looking for cute onesies for chunk boy's summer wardrobe. He is his daddy's clone - long torso, short legs, not skinny. The kid's elbows have dimples.

Meanwhile, this little girl who may have been around age 3 or 4, was there with her mother. The little girl pointed out the fire truck to her mom, and mom promptly said "That's for boys." That little girl shrank. Not only did her mother shut her down, but then she squashed her daughter's interest in dreaming. I said something about knowing some women who are first responders that would disagree. Mama didn't seem interested in, or pleased with, what I said. Honestly, I did not care. Lord, please let this child go on a school field trip to a fire house and find at least one or more women in the line of duty. My heart breaks for that family, broken down before dreams even begin to take shape.

I heard "you can't" as a child. My mother heard it in her childhood. Some of the problem was that my parents didn't have the extra money for things. But pride got in the way. "Can't" should have been followed by "afford". The word "can't" in my childhood was translated to ability, not finances. It prompted me to be honest with my kids when things were unaffordable. "It's not in the budget" or "we don't have the extra money" is honest, and pride-piercing. But it's not dream crushing.

My dad let me tinker with his tools when I was a kid. I entered adulthood with small skills that paid dividends. I could make small repairs and saved money on replacing items or hiring someone to fix stuff. We lived in base housing when tropical storms blew through Camp Lejeune. Base housing has a list of self help items they can give residents to do things like change air filters, replace the hook and eye latches on screen doors, replace broken porch light globes etc. My screen door was ripped, and I couldn't open the door for fresh air without bugs moving in with us. I went to the self help shop at the housing office to ask for screen material. The guys looked at me like I was nuts, and said "it's not on the list of stuff we can give you."  He may have said something about my husband, but it's been so long, I forget.
I looked at him and said "Well, I have tools and a staple gun, and I can fix a screen door. Or, I can add one more piddly ticket to your list of work orders, and it'll be months before I get a screen door fixed because other people have trees in their houses." He paused a minute, sighed, and gave me enough screen for my door. I was an antithesis of the typical Marine wife, and I don't know that he'd ever experienced anyone like me before. The guys in the maintenance department appreciated that when I called for repairs, it was really worth their time, and not BS calls like someone's closet doors being off track and they didn't know how to get them back on there.

I realize it's an anomaly to see non-traditional roles in play. My sons can cook and clean, and my daughters love motorcycles. They've all played with kitchens, cars, dolls, and tool sets. Clone will say she'd rather hang with the boys because they have something interesting to say, versus girl gossip. Blur was at a party recently. There was a bounce house and the boys were being brutes. The other girls ran away, but my feisty redheaded little girl stayed put, refusing to cave to the boys' attempts to get the bounce house girl-free. A time or two, she may have done that running back block.

I want my kids to accept dreaming as a possibility. I want them to take leaps of faith and do things that interest them. I want them to not have to battle the inner bully of self-sabotage and self-defeat that I have. Logically, I know I can do things. Internally, I constantly nudge that timid child out of the corner, making her try new things, and do things she resists. It started with getting my motorcycle endorsement two years ago. It's incredibly empowering to learn to ride. It's incredibly soul-strengthening to get in the saddle over and over and build the skill and confidence to venture among the "cagers". I got sidelined a bit, but I will be getting back in the saddle in a couple years. My body still needs to rebuild, I have a new baby, and I'll need to take the endorsement course again because I have already forgotten a lot of it. In the meantime, I've found myself surrounded by a lot of awesome cheerleaders who help me stifle the inner bully, and spurn the timid child forward. I want my kids to see me go after goals, achieve things, and not defer dreams. I want them to strike out in search of their own dreams, and the best way to do that is by example.

A week after the crash

I have been hosting some friends rather unexpectedly the last several days, so I have been unable to post much of an update to how I'm doing. However, I did manage to sneak in an update video yesterday while everyone was out of the house. It took several takes, but this is the best of the lot, and I have no clue why my camera and mic settings were screwy, nor could I figure out what was wrong with them. So, we'll just have to live with what looks like Asian monster movie dubbing over in English.



Ever so thankful I'm only colorful and banged up and that it was not worse. And I pray that the occupants of the cars around me (and there were several) gleaned a lesson from this as well.

Meanwhile, I'm bumbling around, getting things done, despite being opposable thumb challenged.

Post Crash, Day 4

So, here I am day 4, and while I am not 100% by any means, I am MUCH improved.
I was able to work a couple store service calls yesterday, and I'm going to attempt 4 today so I can be home tomorrow. We'll see how it goes by lunchtime.
I want to thank everyone for their concern, prayers, admonishment, advice, and love.



Devildog is having fun teasing me about my injuries and of course giving me flack for dropping his bike. But he's not being a jerk about any of it, and for that, I am also grateful.

Rockin something alright

I went for a ride around the neighborhood to practice my skills on Sunday. I got 5 blocks from home, and went down. I'm grateful it was 20 mph, and not 40 or 75. I'm grateful I was 5 blocks away, and not 5 miles or 5 hours away.


(pardon the crummy quality of the video)


I'm grateful I was wearing most of my gear. Most is key here. I could've avoided the road rash on my left arm with the jacket. That was the one thing I didn't have on me, and knew I should've had it on when I left. The long sleeve shirt was not enough even for 20 mph. I slid about 4 feet. My knee hurts and is swollen, and that's with me wearing the thickest pair of jeans I own. My arm hurts and is gross. And my right thumb is in a brace b/c I did a number on it. I don't know how long it will be till it's healed and I can get back on the bike.




Devildog has been kind about it. He got Humpty back together again, but had to swap the handlebars out for the originals, and he's not all that thrilled about them. I'm so sorry honey. It sucks and I hate being the reason for it. I bent the handlebars just enough that you don't know it till you look carefully.

Everyone has told me that it's not a matter of IF but WHEN you lay down a motorcycle. Apparently laying it down in class wasn't enough for me. I had to do it at home too. Well, I got the "WHEN" out of the way. So instead of rocking the gear on 2 wheels, I am rocking the ibuprofin, the antibiotics and the ice packs and a stellar road rash and thumb brace.

So, I'm here as your limping P.S.A to Rock the Gear. ATGATT - All The Gear, All The Time.




And here is an update at day 4 and then again day 8/9

My sails and their wind

The copious tree sex coupled with insufficient rain after what can only be described as a "day and a half winter", has sent my allergies into overdrive. That in turn has sent my asthma over a cliff. I've had a rough week of trying to breathe, not cough, cough to clear my lungs, talk, talk without coughing, etc. The blood bank vampires keep calling, and I can't help them. Some days my voice is great, others it is shot. I've managed to stay holed up in my house the last 2 days, which has helped but when I have to venture outdoors, I feel it almost immediately reaching into my pulmonary place and parking itself in my airway and throwing a proverbial fit to incite a riot in my lungs.
Of course the weather is utterly gorgeous and I'm stuck inside. I would love to be enjoying the beautiful environment around me, but it is sucking the wind out of my sails. I have friends praying for me, as I utilize all kinds of treatments (home remedy and medicinal interventions). We need me well. I'm reading Sunday at Mass, and it's going to involve a LOT of talking, because it's Passion Sunday. I may have to reluctantly step back and give someone else the opportunity to do it though.
And then there's the 2 wheels thing. I did ride around the neighborhood last week for a few minutes finally. But I can't be out on the bike without a bubble around me, so I am stuck inside, reading motorcycle forums full of people rejoicing about their ride that day.
This is new to me, and I first thought it was bronchitis. Then 2 different people told me that it was likely that my asthma was uncontrolled and causing me problems. I started to realize they were probably right after a few days where I wasn't feeling or sounding worse, but I just couldn't breathe well at all. So, I am hoping that the elusive rain shows up to wash away all the stuff that is making me unwell. My wind therapy needs a recharge soon.

Cool Stuff

So, this afternoon, there was a break in the crummy weather, Devildog rode the motorcycle up to McDonald's to get some sweet tea, and enjoy a ride. I decided to pluck the chicken feathers off my wings and stuff the rest of them into a jacket and get on the bike while he had it out of the garage. Initially, we just rode around the neighborhood together. The lesson? Get a bigger seat, or a sissy bar to keep my tush from sliding off the back. When we got back, I took it all back to the baby steps from class. I have some adjusting to do to get accustomed to this bike. I did actually ride with my feet off the ground, and even got up to 2nd gear. All told it was only about 45 minutes but every bit of progress is progress forward. I am so glad I finally got on the bike. I was afraid I'd lose my nerve if I didn't get on a motorcycle soon.

But the really cool part of the day? A couple weeks ago, Staci over at VeryPink.com posted yet another awesome video tutorial. This one is a Log Cabin Scrap Blanket. I was watching it and Clone was next to me. She was really excited and enthralled with Staci's video, and started drawing a picture of it. I mentioned it in the comments and Staci asked me to send it to her. So I finally got around to doing that this morning, and Staci posted it on her blog. The comments and feedback have been awesome. My baby girl has artwork on the internet. This makes a mama's heart swell with pride.

Two weeks and still no go

It's been two weeks since I got my motorcycle endorsement. I haven't been riding since then either. There has been an array of delays in that arena. I was saddle sore from the crummy seats on the bikes at school. Then I lacked the strength to get Devildog's bike off the kickstand, and have been practicing that skill while I wait out exhaustion, busy work schedules, crummy weather, and the bike being in the shop on 2 of the most beautiful riding days. I'm afraid of losing my nerve if I don't get on a bike again soon. This week is a short work week, but it's starting off rainy. While we need the rain to keep the summer wildfires at bay, this is seriously cutting into my skill-building here.

When I told my dad that I learned to ride a motorcycle, his exact, and immediate response was "aw shit, you gonna buy a bike too?" No, but I'll probably get Devildog's and he's looking to upgrade (just as everyone predicted). His is a pretty red color that suits me anyway. And I have ideas of how to personalize the bike when it becomes mine. I want to learn how to do my own stuff like oil changes and things. Eventually we will figure that stuff out ourselves too.

Friday evening, I took Devildog to get the bike from the mechanic who did the maintenance for us, and the bike wouldn't start again. Devildog suspected the 8 year old battery was the culprit, but the shop doesn't stock batteries. So, we drove down the street to the dealer to get a battery to expedite this task. You can't go to the dealer and not look at the shiny toys in the showroom. I love messing with people in sales situations, especially when I know for a fact they're going to take me for the "little lady". In case you haven't learned already, I absolutely HATE being treated like a dink. Anything that I deal with that involves mechanical, construction, or vehicular stuff brings out the Inner Betty Badass. It's really fun to watch men squirm when they make the mistake of figuring me for a dingy broad.
So, I was just standing there watching Devildog sit on the bikes to get a feel for them, and the sales guy comes over and asks "So, you gonna trade in your sportster for something else?" Inner Betty jumped on the opportunity and popped off with "So, then what am I gonna ride??" Dude's face was utterly priceless with a barely audible "sorry" as he quickly maneuvered around me to get geographically closer to my husband. I'm sure this made my husband smile, and I'm pretty sure he told the mechanic the next morning about this exchange. I say that because when we went back to get the battery installed, Frank rode the bike around front, walked inside and handed ME the key. I asked why he was handing it to me. His very smart response: "Well, I dunno, I thought maybe you were riding today." I had to tell him nope, I didn't have my gear with me. I really love when a guy who doesn't know me from squat treats me like I have a clue. I love that my husband gave Frank the opportunity to make my Saturday morning too.

I have been ASSIMILATED!

I am so proud of myself! I completed and passed the motorcycle endorsement class! I can now legally ride a motorcycle! And I think I'm pretty much the only one out of my friends who even wanted to ride (well, aside from Bakerella, but she was already a rider when I met her). And already, Bakerella has added me to two Crackbook groups for female motorcycle riders. There is only so much assimilation a girl can handle at once.

I am saddle sore from riding the bike for like 10 hours this past weekend. But now all I think about is getting on Devildog's bike as soon as I can, to put the training to practice before I lose my nerve, confidence and skill. Except this week is crazy busy and I'm feeling overwhelmed thinking about my schedule right now. So, after this crazy week, I'm probably going to want to go ride so I can unwind a bit. Then come home and knit a little bit to unwind some more. And then have a drink. The drink has to come after the first two, because drinking with either one of those ends badly. At least with the knitting, you can get a do-over.

Taking Clone to school this morning, I asked her what she thought of me learning to ride a motorcycle. She very excitedly said "I think it's AWESOME! Hardly any moms ride motorcycles, so I think it's really cool." I doubt she'll still think I'm as cool in 5 years because we'll be in the throes of adolescence and probably peri-menopause too, but that's ok. I'll deal with it by getting on a bike and going for a ride. I've heard it called "wind therapy". I look forward to being able to go pick her up from the bus stop on the bike though. THAT indeed will be cool, because not many kids get picked up from the bus stop on a motorcycle either.

And yes, I do realize that I am creating additional monsters here. Me riding means I'm going to eventually get my own bike, or get Devildog's when he upgrades. My girls are likely going to be raised around motorcycles, and may end up learning to ride as well. I am not sure about the boys, but I suspect at least one of them may be interested. And a family of riders is cool too. But as a mom, I find it important to visibly demonstrate to my kids that you can indeed step out of your comfort zone and learn something new and accomplish out of the ordinary things. They've seen me learn to crochet, then learn to knit. They're watching Devildog go through college courses, with the goal of getting a nursing degree. They're watching me learn to ride a motorcycle. Yes, we like to do slightly atypical things around here. It's why I bugged Devildog for years to get me my own set of tools. I am just not normal.

And those kinds of things make life more interesting and fun. I look forward to watching my kids navigate their own adventures in the coming years. I guess I better start working on decluttering the garage a lot more ;)