Ride that Unicorn Sweet P

   Happy Birthday My Littlest Love.  I know you are riding unicorns, picking flowers, and playing with all the other kids that don’t have to hurt anymore.  There won’t be a whole lot of celebrating from me, it’s just another day to remind me of what I miss more than anything. 

   We are doing something special though.  With the help of some special people, we are going to put a brick in your name at St. Jude’s and putting a bench in your memory at Bright’s Zoo. 

   In the fall Mommy and Daddy get to go back to St. Jude’s for a Remembrance Weekend and will get to see your name their forever.  A piece of our family will forever be inside those walls, and your name will be there for all those to see.  It will be there for those kids who finally get to go outside after chemo.  For the Dads that need to take a walk and cry.  For the Moms that need that breath of fresh air so they can be there for their little ones.  Your name will be on a bench for all those to see, but more importantly for that Mom or Dad that needs a break.  Maybe that little kid needs to stop and eat their ice cream, or that grandmother needs a spot in the shade.  They will see your name and smile just like we did.  Some might know your story and be honored, others might look you up, and some might just be thankful there is a place to sit down.  Whatever the reason, we said we’d never let your name and fight be forgotten, and that is what we are doing.

   We have talked many nights about this, but you and I both know I won’t be writing much more.  It’s your birthday and your day little bit, and for that we should all smile.  There are a lot of things I still don’t understand and probably never will.  I promise I’ll still blow out that candle and wish our special wish, but it’s up to life to tell us if it will come true.  Happy Birthday P, ride the hell out of that unicorn.

To my Girl

To My Littlest Love,

                It’s been a year since I’ve gotten to hold your hand and tell you I loved you as I kissed your forehead.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t smile, laugh, cry, cuss, and all that in between.  I miss you more than I thought I could ever miss anything in the world.  A piece of my heart left that morning and I’ll never get it back.

                But you know all this.

                You are there when the sun rises over the trees in the backyard.  You are there in those purple sunsets I see from the driveway.  You are there when I look at your picture, and even when I’m not.  You are there when I want to quit.  I feel you in the breeze sometimes.  I hear your voice when I’m alone on the couch.  It might be that I’m going crazy, but I know I hear it.  I feel you there and it is all that gets me through the day sometimes.

                I know you see my every move and everything that happens.  I know sometimes you are happy and other times disappointed.  I promise I’m trying to be the Man you thought I was when you looked me in the eye.  I fall short a lot, but I will do my best.  I still can’t sit on the couch without your boppy and can’t leave the house for the night without taking Beatrice with me.  They are my favorites, just like your pigtails.

                I’ll never understand why you had to go.  I’ll never understand why it was you that had to have cancer and everything else instead of me.  I talk to God about it all the time; I still don’t have an answer.  You were here Little Bit for a reason and did more for your Mommy and Me and the people around you than I could have ever imagined to do.  You were amazing while you were here, I’m just happy I was yours.

                I will see you again one day I promise.  All those times I imagined us running through the backyard and having that real dance will come true.  I love you Sweet P.

                                                                                                                                                Daddy   

What I saw...

   It was a few months ago that I noticed something I had never seen before.   Looking into Penelope's eyes was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.    I noticed it first in a picture from the beach.  Something about her eyes looked different and it took me forever to figure it out. 

   Those last few weeks I never saw once that Penelope was sick.  I believe that it is God’s gift to parents with special needs kids. I never saw the cancer taking over her body and slowing her down. I never saw it.  I knew that she was tired and tired of getting poked with needles.  I knew she was tired of medicine and needed rest.  I watched it all but I never once saw what she couldn’t fight for much longer.

   I believe once I got over the shock of something was different with my little angel standing in that hospital office, it never ran through my head when I looked in her eyes.  I was lost in her soul.  All she had to do was look me in the eyes and I was fine. 

 I saw strength not weakness from everything going on.

 I saw a fighter that could have quit at any moment.

 I saw myself in those beautiful eyes and it made me want to do better.

 I saw hope that one day it would all be alright because she believed in me.

 I saw a little girl who I wanted to give the whole world, but all she needed was what she was looking at.

   I have to say that “I saw” instead of “I see” now.  I regret spending time, whether it was seconds or minutes, looking at the things that were wrong some days.  I see people all the time looking at their kids but not really seeing them.  I see them on their phones instead of being connected with the little one in front of them.  I’m over here wanting just one more minute and they are wasting hours.  what do you see when you look at them?  Do you see a disability or a miracle every day?  Do you see their faults or their little victories?

   I’m so glad that I got to be in the moment for that period of time.  My memories are now my moments, and I’m glad that I had the chance to see the light in all the darkness.  It was a beautiful.

Yeah, it is hard...

   That is the answer to everything this week.  It’s hard to think.  It’s hard to look at pictures.  It’s hard to wake up and it is hard to go to sleep.  I get so excited to scroll through my Facebook memories, but then end up almost getting sick to my stomach from the feeling of it being just a picture now.  Life stopped a year ago at the end of this week.  We go on and have really done some great things in her memory.  That’s what is hard and forever will be: the distance between memories of then and life now.

   That whole cliché of time heals is complete crap.  Time doesn’t heal, it only takes me farther from the last time I got to look into her eyes.  Time has done nothing for me but make me so mentally tired sometimes I can’t stand it. 

   I’ve wanted to write a million things over the past few days.  I’ve started and I’ve deleted.  I’ve written a sentence and then my mind wanders 100 other places.   Nobody and nothing can prepare you for the day you lost your little love.  I have relived that day a million times, but something about the official “1 year” hits you like a freight train right in the chest.

   I wouldn’t wish this feeling on my worst enemy.  It is a feeling of being lost that you can’t even describe.  I want to talk about her, but I know I’m going to cry.  I want to think about all the amazing things we got to do, but it makes me miss them that much more.  I want to be happy with my friends about their little ones, but I feel empty inside when I can’t hold her hand.  I’m crying right now writing this and I haven’t even begun to talk about what I want to.  That’s life though right?  

Just Have Faith

Having Faith is a process, not a phrase.

   “Just Have Faith” is a phrase I hear a lot.  This is what a lot of people use when they truly don’t have anything other to say.  Faith is the fallback when we can’t explain something or are out of options.  Faith should be anything but a fallback.  It should be a stand on, lean on, start with, or anything better than a last resort  I have so many questions when someone says this to me.

   Have Faith in what?  Have faith in the same thing that made me whole and now leaves me broken? 

   Have Faith in who?  In myself? In God? In humanity?  Two of these three have failed me on a consistent basis and the other makes me question the other two almost every second. 

   Have Faith when?  Just when I’m out of options?  Just when I need help the most?  Because this is the only time people seem to mention having Faith.  What if I started this venture with Faith and it is all been downhill? What do I do then?

   I truly believe that my little girl is in heaven; perfectly healed and filled with love.  I am more connected to my spiritual side and what I believe than some people that “HAVE” to go to church every Sunday morning.  So don’t get it twisted or say “He’s lost his way and I’ll pray for that.”  I pray sometimes that some people see blessings and have something like I do to believe in.

   These questions are just what come to my mind when somebody says have Faith and I don’t think many that say it really understand what their Faith is.  Some have never had their Faith tested, lost it, found themselves in the midst of it, and repeated that process every time they wake up and twice when they go to sleep.

   I believe that everyone should have Faith in something.  It first has to be with yourself.  You have to believe in yourself before you can believe in something or someone else.  I’ve made my peace with God and I am solid in my foundation of what I believe.  My prayer for you is that you can say that too.  If today was your day, would you “Just Have Faith” or would it be more than that?

To My Love on Mother's Day

To my Love,

                I could write a million things right now but I know none of them will be enough.  I’ve been right there the whole time. Sometimes holding your hand, sometimes looking in your eyes, and sometimes walking away because it’s best for both of us.  Nothing I could say on Mother’s Day will ever bring back what you lost that morning.  I only promise to never stop trying.

                A mother is something you always wanted to be.  I know that it is all you ever wanted.  I know you lost that part of your soul and although we don’t know what the future will hold, I know that little piece that Sweet P created will never come back.  I know how that feels. I know hun, that’s what makes life so hard.

                What you lost as a mother is what you also gained.  You did more for your daughter in 23 months than some could ever imagine.  Cleaning out blowouts, wiping up those damn bananas she’d spit out, and washing those bottles day in and day out was the easy part.  That was just part of the job.  That day you earned the title of Mommy, was the day you started something that will never be forgotten.  You did way more than what was published in newspapers and on TV.  You showed what it meant to love someone more than anything in the world.  You held back tears in times that needed you to be tough.  You held onto her when she needed it the most.  I will always say that she was a Daddy’s girl, but she was her mother’s daughter through and through.  Penelope was lucky to have you as her own, and she knew that.  She told us that morning how much she loved us, but always you first.

                All those signs we see are there to let us know how much she loves us and is watching over us.  They are there because you look for them and she knows that. 

                This day might not ever have the same meaning or be celebrated like it once was, but that’s ok.  It can be whatever you want it to be because you are Penelope’s Mom and always will be.  No one or no thing can ever take that from you.  I will celebrate it because I celebrate you and what you mean to me.  I love you.

                                                                                                                -Andy (with help from P)

Just Stop

You can’t control a lot of things in life, don’t forget about the ones you can control.  

  Life can a complete cluster sometimes.  Take mine for example.  End of school, spring football practice, 1 year since our travels to St. Jude’s, jacked up lower back and can’t lift, grandmother not doing so hot, and 50 million other things I’m sure you can relate to.  The problem with it all is in this life we forget to stop.  We get so consumed in the externals we forget about the things that we can control.  It is just as simple to stop and relax as it is to deal with all this stuff.  “Oh that’s easier said than done,” is probably what you are thinking.

    Most people resort to posting some sappy poor pitiful me post of Facebook and look to others to lift them up.  That’s the problem to me.  We are looking elsewhere to lift ourselves and forget that looking inward is where the peace is.  I won’t lie, a hot tub overlooking the mountain is my current state and helps with this, but I had to make this happen.  I have enough shit going on at home that I feel like I can’t ever stop; but until I fix me, everything else isn’t going to be worth it either. 

    Most of my inner depression and anxiety comes from the piece of my heart that is missing.  Everybody has their problems and demons, but we too often bury them deeper and deeper because of the more “pressing issues” in front of us.  There isn’t anything more pressing than your sense of self and taking care of you and those you love.  Ellen needed to be away this weekend and truthfully I needed it too. 

    Worrying about the dishes, the jungle I call a yard, the gutters that need cleaning, and the long list of financial issues that haunts us all every morning while brushing our teeth are no match for dealing with things like the emotions I see when I look at pictures of my princess and about throw up I get so upset.  All I’m saying is just stop, take a minute, an hour, a weekend and just work on yourself and the ones closest to you.  Just like everything I write, one day I’ll be drawn back to reading this and need this message; I just hope I’m not too far gone to fix it.

Being a Teacher, Morning edition

For all those that want to say Teachers have it made: Here’s a typical morning.  I cut it off at around 12:30 because afternoons are what we like to call “Herding Cats” and changes daily.  This doesn’t include all the stories I hear about what their parents did last night, how many shoes I tie, how many times they need to go see the nurse, how many drinks are needed at the water fountain, etc.  You get the picture.  I love my kids more than anything in the world and would do anything for them.  So enjoy my morning because I do. 

5:05 AM: Wake up

5:45 AM: Spin Class 12 miles in 46 minutes.

6:45 AM:  Shower, take dog out, make coffee, find the most unwrinkled clothes to wear

7:13 AM: Leave for bus duty blasting some rap music to get hyped up. XM Channel 44

7:15 AM: Pull in parking lot to 5 cars already waiting to throw their kids out the door and speed off

7:17 AM: 20 kids already in bus duty.  Heard my name 7 times.  1 has to call mom because they forgot homework.  3 kids already asleep sitting up.  1 kindergartener crying because some unknown ridiculous reason.

7:30 AM:  Dismiss about 60 kids for breakfast.  Remaining kids still asleep or staring at me.  4 more kids asked me questions.

7:45 AM: Bus gets here.  Almost 150 kids now.  2 kids fighting in 1^st grade line.  5^th graders attitudes starting to come alive.  Been asked twice to buy something.  4 bathrooms, 2 nurse requests.

8:00 AM: Dismiss RTI, Dismiss Speech, Grab and Go breakfast available.  200+ kids now in gym.  Every kid is in line, quiet, and packed up ready to go to class.  Said hello or good morning to almost all of them.

8:05 AM: Bell Rings.  Dismiss almost 250 kids in less than 1 minute with nobody getting lost, or trampled.  3 lunchboxes, 2 waterbottles, and some homemade art to be picked up and taken to their owners. Said have a great day to 100+ and high fived or fist bumped another 100.

8:15 AM: Homeroom.  Heard my name about 30 times by now.  2 kids forgot books.  2 lunch moneys to be taken, 1 story about how Mom hates Dad and getting a divorce, 2 stories on previous nights ball games.  17 kids now working on Adverbs, creating quadrilateral designs, watching Brainpop videos, reading AR, and/or eating breakfast and still trying to wake up.  2 kids to RTI.  Fixed 4 computers that didn’t work.  Untied 2 shoes that were in knots.  Told 2 boys to stop playing with themselves.

9:00 AM: Reading time.  15 minutes to read a 3 minute story.  Fixed 3 pronunciations.  Answered what’s for lunch halfway through explanation of a Plesiosaur.  Taught final lesson on Adverbs. 3 bathroom breaks.  1 more story about breakfast.  Lost count of how many times I’ve heard my name.  Started to do cursive while 1 kid is picking his nose.  17 kids now finishing adverbs, writing sentences in cursive, reading AR books, 2 kids whispering about another kids butt crack hanging out, 1 girl done and figuring out how the circulatory system works, 1 kid still trying to figure out the directions on adverbs.  Whole group reading commences, I’m reading Amelia Bedelia.  Can’t finish a page without hands raising and yelling out, “What’s she doing?” or giving us their two cents.  2 phone calls about a kid being sick and another who needs to ride with his Dad instead of Mom and go out back instead of front.  Finish reading story, have to reread 2 pages because we are all lost. 

During this time I have received 14 emails, 10 texts, and missed a phone call.  1 kids cell phone also rang in their backpack.  Still haven’t finished coffee.

10:30 AM: Computer time.  Fixed 4 computers again to get on internet.  1 kid turned screen upside down.  MyOn reader, AR tests, typing agent, and 1 kid loses privileges because he’s on Poptropica doing something I have no idea what it is.  2 more bathrooms. 1 loose tooth.  1 teacher walks in for me to sign a paper.  Still trying to reply to my wife via text but getting interrupted by kid using pencil as dart.

10:45 AM: Lunch.  Everybody washes hands.  2 kids get down hallway and forget lunchbox.  2 kids still don’t have lunch money.  Help some get through line.  Forget my lunchbox.  Walk back down hallway. Get to teachers lounge at 10:59.  Start to eat and forget drink.  Walk into cafeteria, dodge 47 kids wanting to hug me with PB&J all over their face and hands.  Sit back down and have 8 minutes left to eat. Don’t finish but shove the rest in my mouth and go get kids.  3 stories about how 2 were being mean and one was mixing his beans with his milk and making others smell it.  Lose 5 minutes playtime because they look like wild hyenas.  Tell 1 kid to go back because he still has Ketchup all over his face.

11:30 Math Time: Before we start 2 kids have to go to bathroom obviously.  Have to fix pencil sharpener because kid sticks eraser end in first and it jams.  Start lesson on 3D figures.  Have to review all the shapes for the 7^th time because we forget them every time, but halfway through we remember it all magically. 1 kid checks out.  1 stomach hurts as we begin to draw our shapes and Use Reasoning to find mystery shapes.  Lesson continues as 2 more forget the directions and have to come ask me.  Finding Mystery sums as a finisher for those finished early.  3 have to redo them because they did subtraction instead.  1 kid still trying to read instructions on mystery shapes after I read it aloud 4 times and explained it twice within earshot.   

This is not in any way complaining, so slow your role.  This is a wake up call that think all we do is color and watch Magic School Bus, although that works its way into the lessons because I like Mrs. Frizzle and coloring is calming.  Some of these aren’t even complete sentences because most of the time I don’t even get to finish my sentences, but it’s all good.  Being a teacher isn’t something you do, it is something inside of you.  I try to be the best version of me every day, because that is what they deserve.  If I’m not, thank the good Lord for my assistant Mrs. Kincaid, she’s a God-send and does all this times 5 every day.

The Rain on this Old Roof

     Rarely do we ever get time to just sit on the couch, drink some coffee, and listen to the rain on the roof.  If you don't have a Tin Roof, then I do feel sorry for you.  This morning though, it just seemed perfect to listen to the rain outside.  Maybe it was Comcast messing up that made me turn of the TV, or that I'd already scrolled through my useless timelines and catching up on the world around me so I put my phone down.  Nothing but me and the rain.  

 

     The rain is a lot like the world we live in today.  It is unpredictable.  Just as soon as it about lulls you to sleep, it comes just a little harder and wakes you up.  Staring off into window you almost go to some dream world, and BAM a little roll of thunder about makes you pee your pants.  You try to make some sort of pattern out of it, but as soon as you do it just frustrates you even more and you realize that there is no pattern nor will there ever be.  I count the raindrops, but they change by the second.  Nothing really makes sense, but it makes perfect sense at the same time.  Then all of a sudden the rain stops and there is some kind of peace before the birds start chirping again.  For those few seconds it is perfect, then the neighbors dog starts yapping and the moment is gone; just like life.

    Being an only child, you did stupid stuff to entertain yourself sometimes.  I would pick 2 raindrops and watch them race down the window, hoping to pick the right one or trying to see how many other little drops it would pick up on the way like that old worm game on cell phones.  I rarely ever pick the right rain drop, because you can't predict something that you have no control over.  It might run into a bigger drop and just stop, it might end up on the other side of the window pane from when it started.  Just be like the rain drop.  Who cares where you end up, just enjoy the ride and pick up a few things on the way that might just make you better.

Rare Disease Day

   Rare Disease day is something that brings very mixed emotions.  Somebody asked me if I knew it was Rare Disease Day and I wanted to respond with, 

    “I lived rare disease for 23 months, I know what freaking day it is.”  

   But I didn’t, and just said yes.  I’m glad that there is awareness and a movement to bring research and funding to the Rare disease community; but also it brings back all those memories of not knowing, living in a storm cloud, and moments of darkness standing in hospitals.  Rare diseases will truthfully screw up your mind worse than anything will.  You go to the doctor and they tell you what’s wrong.  They give you information or something to fix it.  You go back to your life. 

Imagine multiple professionals in the field looking at you and saying, “I don’t know.  I can’t fix this.”  FML right?

   We live in an “instant gratification” world and that makes it 10x harder to deal.  You expect your phone to work immediately, you expect your food in 2 minutes or less, and you will be damned if somebody puts you on hold.  Now imagine that every day you wake up, every appointment you go to, you hope for answers.  Then you walk out and you have nothing.  No reason why the seizures happened.  No solid answer on why your precious little angel has to go through this hell.  No timeline for anything, especially how long you have her.  Now it probably seems ok to wait a few minutes for the lady to fix your hamburger, doesn’t it?

   I always said that Penelope’s diagnosis was not her definition.  Mainly because we didn’t have a definition and we had to make our own.  She wasn’t on this Earth long, but it was long enough to open my eyes to what is important and what can wait.  Rare disease day is much more than just acknowledging there are things in this world we don’t fully understand.  It is for the Moms and Dads crying every night because they can’t help.  It is for the kids going through unimaginable days.  It is for the doctors who work tirelessly every day to help, but sometimes have to say, “I don’t know.”       Maybe one day we won’t have to recognize this.  Today though, I’ll just cry for a minute and keep on trucking.

Holding Hands

We have held hands through the best of times and the worst of times. I guess everybody has their thing, and other than butt touches I think that is ours.  

We held hands during the IVF process, during doctor’s visits, P’s delivery, in the hospital rooms, at St. Judes, and during her final days.  We held hands walking down the beach, walking down the aisle, walking through the woods, and walking up a snow covered mountain in Montana.  We hold hands all the time, and it may be due to my long stride and her short legs so that we stay together, but nonetheless that’s just us.  She held my hand the other night on the drive back from dinner and it was perfect.

There wasn’t anything super special about it.  We were just driving back on boring 81 listening to the Lumineers and needing nothing more than each other for a few minutes.  I don’t know why it was special but it was.  I didn’t want to let go and I didn’t want the ride to end for some reason.  Car rides aren’t as exciting without P, but all the good times holding her hand rushed through my mind and just made me happy.

Penelope learned at a very young age that hand holding was our thing.  One of the first pictures in the NICU is of all 3 of us, P holding our fingers and the caption saying, “We will make it through this together.”  I held little bit’s hand almost the entire ride back from the beach, shoulder pain and all, just to let her know we were going home and it will be ok. 

It may be Valentine’s Day and I might feel a little sentimental, but I believe in holding hands.  It might not mean much at the time, but be there for your wife, your husband, your kid, or whoever.  Just be there with them, hold their hand, and enjoy the moment of doing something together. 10 bucks says you are probably smiling when you are holding hands too, and that makes it that much better. One day, sadly, you might just miss something as simple as holding hands and just wish you could have one more time.

The batteries died...

     Sleeping with a sleep sheep is probably not the most manly thing, but it is just one of those things that I will probably do the rest of my life.  That few minutes of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star sometimes is all that keeps me from losing my mind in that time where the real world takes me to dreams.  Silence is your #1 enemy when you’ve lost a part of yourself.  That silence is filled with that missing piece and everything that reminds you of them.  Last night the batteries were dead and for a few minutes I realized I probably wasn’t going to get any sleep. 

     A few moments later I noticed those voices no longer wanted to make me cry until I made myself tired.  Those voices that usually keep me up until middle of the night put me to sleep.  The pictures and the silence wasn’t the enemy.  The internal war with myself will never be won, but I’ll take a few wins in the battle category though.

     Taking something negative and turning it into something positive isn’t really what I’m talking about.  It’s more about using all that love and energy that we poured into our little girl to keep fighting those battles so others don’t have to.  Book donations, St. Jude’s donations, medicinal marijuana advocates, rare disease awareness, and this blog have helped us all not dwell on the sadness, but the smiles.  Helping others in turn helps yourself.  It isn’t about Facebook gratification, pictures in the paper, or everybody knowing your name for us and those families doing the same.  It is all about doing what you can for the situation you are in.  Her diagnosis was never her definition; our situation won’t be ours either.

      Life gave us a shitty situation.  It all hasn’t smelled like roses, but it doesn’t have to leave us up the creek.  We’ve got our paddle and her name is Penelope.  She kept us afloat before and she will always steer us in the right direction.  Batteries can be changed and the sound we all fell asleep to will be there tonight.  Another battle will come and another fight of the thoughts in my head will happen I’m sure.  Maybe I’ll let the whales or running water take my mind away from all the negative…….but who am I kidding, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star will win…every time.

All talk No Walk

     So many people these days want to bitch and complain about things.  They want to rant and rave about how something isn’t done right or something is wrong with the world that we live in today.  But usually that’s where it stops.  ALL TALK NO WALK.  People aren’t passionate about very many things anymore.  We have become complacent in things around us and are just ok with having an opinion.  You have to fight in this life for what you want.  Contrary to popular belief, life doesn’t owe you anything, you have to earn it.

Be passionate about something, be passionate about anything, but just get off your keyboard and do something about it.

     There are many friends that I am honored to know that are passionate about something.  Too many people want to complain about the life that they are in, but don’t do a damn thing about it. I have friends that are fighting to help get people medical marijuana on the Capitol floor.  I have a friend that left her job in order to continue the fight for research and awareness so her precious baby girl can grow up in a better world.  I have a wife that speaks out against ignorance and fought so hard for my baby girl that I felt at times I wasn’t doing enough and made me work harder.  I have friends from college that helped put books in hands of kids in inner city Charlotte.  I got to do and be a part of so many things because of Penelope.  I won’t ask what you’ve done lately, because chances are you are asking yourself.

     I’m passionate about my kids learning and understanding the world around them, not just what some data says they should do.  I teach them empathy through St. Jude’s and open their eyes to what is outside of their little bubble in order to make that bubble bigger or even nonexistent.  I preach to my football players about work ethic and drive.  I walk the walk though.  I read, I get better, I workout when I don’t want to because if I don’t then I’m just another person talking about something.  As a teacher and a coach I have a great platform to express my passions and pass it along to others.  Everyone, no matter the road you’ve taken, has an opportunity, you just have to take it.

I’m just tired of people complaining all the time and not doing anything about the situation.  I believe in one simple statement that I heard my man Brigham Lyons say.

 “If you don’t like your situation, get up and do something about it. That’s on you.”  Simple as that.  

Sit this one out....

     Truthfully it sucks to miss out on things.  When you lose your little girl, you lose opportunities that you don’t think about, but life smacks you in the face with them to remind you of all those emotions you try to hide.  The Daddy Daughter dance is one of those that hit me hard this week.  What hit me harder are those little girls that looked at me and said “I’m not going,” and I had to reply, “well I’m not either honey, we’ll be ok, there will be more dances.”

     I cried as I turned my back to walk away from their table.  I don’t know if there will be any more dances.  I don’t know what the next hour holds much less a year from now.  I want to yell, scream, complain, and yell some more about how life isn’t fair and pisses me off.  I want to be pissed that there are things like a Daddy Daughter dance and that I have to sit from afar and just watch it happen.  I want so bad to put my fist through the noses of the dads that don’t go and have the chance to.  I want to cry because all I want in life is one dance with my little girl and knowing I’ll never get it.  I want to sit and be mad that something took her away and took these opportunities away from the both of us.  I want to do all these things over and over and just destroy something because I’m destroyed on the inside.

     But I can’t. Not because I don’t need to, but because I won’t let that side of me win.  So, I just write about it and act like it will go away.

     People fight their own battles every day.  Some wish they could tell a relative one more time that they loved them.  Some kids grow up wishing they had a Daddy to take them to things like a dance.  That’s just how this life goes.  It isn’t fair, and we are allowed to be mad about things.  What we can’t do is let it ruin those good things.  As much as it hurts, I still want to walk in my classroom and let my little girls tell me about how dressed up they got and all about their nails getting done.  I want to hear it because it was taken away from me, not them.  I can be bitter all I want but it isn’t going to change the fact that they had a great time, and it isn’t my place to take that away from them.  The look in their eyes and excitement in their voice reminds me of my Sweet P.  It isn’t about what could have been, but what was and how lucky I was to be a part of it.  

Ellen Stop taking pictures...

                That was probably the stupidest thing I could have said.  As I laid down last night I spent, like usual, about 10 minutes looking at pictures and videos of Penelope.  Pictures that I now have to hold onto forever because that is all I have.  Thank the Lord she doesn’t listen to me half the time and took all those pics.  They are what get me through the day and are the only way I can ease myself to sleep sometimes.

                Men don’t want to take 100 pictures and videos of every little thing that happens in their child’s life, but I promise that you should.  For the most part, I just don’t think it is in us to pose for all those pictures, but one day you’ll look back and be glad you did.  You’ll be happy she took the picture of you two sitting on the couch, feeding her, reading to her, playing in the snow, set up the photo shoots with professional photographers, and all the other 1000 times you heard “Ok, smile!” 

                It really isn’t about the actual picture, but all that the picture represents.  You’ll be sitting in bed one day and come across a picture you totally forgot about.  You won’t just see the matching outfits (Gag Me).  You will remember the hour it took to get ready and changing outfits 100 times, the slobber you are trying to cover up with your hand placement, the fart she let out as you picked her up, and then you’ll be realizing how much you are actually smiling and appreciate your wife “making” you do that.  They say a picture is worth 1000 words, but I think more importantly it is worth 1000 memories. 

                I hope that some reading this enjoy what those pictures represent and what they will mean down the road.  I mean I won’t lie, I’m at a place now where I am jealous and angry along with happy at the same time at all those “photo opportunities” I get to see some having.  I soon forget that when I look at our walls and see Penelope in Montana, Glacier National Park, the TN Capitol, and yes even the hospital pictures.  It doesn’t matter where you are in the picture, it is helping keep those memories alive.  That’s all we can do.  Take the picture and enjoy it.  You’ll see more than ink printed on paper, I promise you that.

Kids Will Make You Think

    As a teacher, I see and hear all sorts of stuff.  Half of it you wouldn’t believe, the other half I have to replay in my head because I don’t believe it.  They say some of the weirdest shit you have ever heard, and I whisper “WTF” to myself more times than not.  I almost have enough 2^nd grade –isms to fill a small book, but today was different.  It wasn’t an –ism.  It wasn’t a laugh.  It wasn’t weird.  It was a little girl looking at me asking 25 million questions that made me realize something.  What I see in the mirror is not what they see. 

    “Hey Mr. McCall.  Did you get a haircut? Did you get a new watch?  Is that a new picture of Penelope?  Did you get your wife something nice?  Did you forget to shave this morning?  Are we going to do a lot of work?  Will you tell us a story?  I missed you Mr. McCall, I couldn’t wait to see you this morning. BAM!!! There it was.

    She had no idea that it was a struggle to get out of bed and start the routine over again.  She didn’t know that I dreaded in a way trying to get myself going to not just teach, but be a good teacher.  She didn’t know that I cried a little when I kissed P’s Beatrice bunny good bye this morning.  

    I realized right then that I needed to drop the sad act and be thankful for what I do.  I was sad before, I’ll be sad at some point after, but for these next few hours, I need to make her day worth it.  She doesn’t deserve a half-assed Mr. McCall.  That’s not what she or the other 16 yahoos I have need when they walk in the door.  I might be there only bright spot in their day, and that bright spot doesn’t need to be like the forest green a kid just stuck up their nose.  It should be a bright yellow that the other one just ate.  Everybody has a dark place, but to be the bright spot for someone has to lighten it a little.

    A lot of people, myself included, let their situations cloud everything else.  Bad stuff happens every day to every single person.  We have to get our shit together and move on.  It isn’t moving away or forgetting.  It is simply just needing these moments like that simple sentence to get us through to the next thing.  The New Year didn’t bring much joy, but I have to look at it as new opportunities.  It is easier said than done; but I’ve said it so now I have to do it.  (2^nd graders teach you this, they know when go back on your word and use it against you very effectively…little a-holes.)