The evening went beyond well; all 14 women - some of whom had not spoken publicly, or at least publicly about their topics of choice that night - commanded that podium with grace and class. (Even I held it together and did not say anything inappropriate) (Dr. Phil calls that "growth")
For those of you who were there, here is a snapshot of the night, courtesy of Karen Ledford Photography. Michelle Burdick had just read an emotional and gut-wrenching piece. Her last words to me before she read it were "Make me laugh."
That's what I do.
So after she sat down I made sure to point out that she did a fantastic job reading and - more importantly - her a$$ looked fabulous from my vantage point. Truly it did.
Here is that moment:
 |
| "You did a fantastic job! And your a$$ looks fabulous!" |
And for those of you who weren't there that night, here is the piece I read. I adapted it from a Lawrence Journal-World column I wrote a couple of years ago. Cheers!
It was
a hot summer evening in 2003. Why I decided to take our four kids to the pool
by myself I have no idea, but it was time to head home.
Ellie
was nearly 6 and did not want to leave. Amelia, age 4, did not want to follow
my stroller overflowing with baby Caroline and all of their gear while
two-year-old Luke wriggled around like a new puppy in my arms.
As I
paraded my circus to the exit, I noticed a couple relaxing in lounge chairs,
feet up, drinks in hand, reading their magazines while their two school-aged
children frolicked safely and happily in the water.
Feeling
like the old woman in the shoe, I looked at Jodee and her husband, Kevin, with
uncontrollable envy, forced a smile upon my haggard face and said, “You make
the pool look like so much fun.”
Jodee
looked up from her Glamour and smiled. “Yes, it finally is fun,” she confirmed.
“You’ll get there, too, though. I promise.”
After
hearing hundreds upon hundreds of elderly women tell me to “enjoy this time
because it would not last forever” as I wrangled and wrestled my blossoming
crew with little grace and much exhaustion…
Out of
the grocery store, wailing for candy; out of the mall, traumatized from trying
on shoes; out of every bathroom in the Detroit airport, terrified of the Motor
City’s automatic toilets…
After
being told to “enjoy this time” by so many well-intentioned but clearly amnesic
old ladies, it was refreshing to hear a mom acknowledge that some of “those
times” were not, in fact, enjoyable at all; that there actually is storm before
some calm; and… best of all… that the storm would eventually pass.
I
filed this promise away in my brain for many years while tossing the last
pacifier, potty-training the last toddler and wiping the last bottom.
I
never thought about it while tying the last shoe, filling the last sippy cup
and buckling the last five-point harness
And it
never crossed my mind when I pulled off the last set of training wheels, cut
the last hotdog into choke-proof bites or marched my last baby off to
kindergarten.
Every
moment of every day was spent turning these precious little beings with few
useful skills into moderately independent and functional humans, kissing and
hugging their sweet and often messy little faces along the way. Consumed with
the never-ending task at hand, I really did not have time to think about
Jodee’s promise again.
Until…
one
hot summer evening in 2009, while my husband and I were relaxing by the
pool on a family vacation, skimming through magazines and sipping ice-cold
beverages while our kids frolicked safely and happily in the water, when
I noticed a woman loading her children into strollers and arms and hands, and I
suddenly remembered Jodee and Kevin kicking back six years earlier.
The
moment Jodee had promised would come 2,190 days before had finally arrived.
Tears
welled as I grasped this milestone we had unconsciously reached. Our family now
complete, my work in the trenches of baby and toddlerhood was permanently over;
diapers, naptime, The Wiggles, all were behind me now.
And
though the turmoil of the teen years with a whole new load of worries
loomed ahead and though the job of parenting would never ever end, I refused to
think about that. For, as hundreds upon hundreds of elderly women had told me
over and over again, I need to enjoy this time. Because it will not last
forever.
