I spend the next day feeling like crap, between hot flashes and cold flashes, guzzling water trying to fight what I fear might be the beginning of the flu. Or maybe it was the fish I had at Olive Garden on Friday? Do I have food poisoning? Oh God, what is wrong with me? I just hurt everywhere…. It must be the flu.
It’s awful. I wake up with a headache. My entire body hurts. My stomach is threatening to turn on me. I gently push myself to a sitting position and rest a moment. Will I be able to stand? I attempt it. My body feels weak, and as I slowly shuffle to the bathroom, I can feel my joints protesting. I barely make it to the toilet.
I spend the next day feeling like crap, between hot flashes and cold flashes, guzzling water trying to fight what I fear might be the beginning of the flu. Or maybe it was the fish I had at Olive Garden on Friday? Do I have food poisoning? Oh God, what is wrong with me? I just hurt everywhere…. It must be the flu.
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Dear Bee,
Ten. You are ten years old now. I don’t know where the last decade went. It seems like yesterday you were running around without pants on, your diapered bottom padding your fall when you lost your balance. It seems like just last week I was lying on the floor with you placed gently in the middle of your baby blanky when you discovered your toes. Your tiny little giggles were tinkling music notes in our flat, and I couldn’t imagine a day when you would be ten. I couldn’t imagine a day when your curly, blonde little locks would form a straw straight bob and your icy baby blues would be a beautiful green; your chubby little legs and your chubby little cheeks would turn into long legs and a slender face. I couldn’t imagine a day when the tear running down your cheek because you fell off the first step learning how to climb the stairs would turn into a tear because your best friend revealed to you that the girls at school think you’re poor. Or the tear that fell the first time someone called you a name because your skin was a different color; the one that fell when you realized that the B-word they were calling you was a bad word. Or the tear that fell when you saw the boy you really liked kiss the girl across the street. You’re ten. You read that right. That’s all I eat. Because I’m super serious about being healthy and super aware of what goes into my body, all I’ve been eating lately are salads.
You see, I’ve been working on losing weight. Now, generally, I count my calories (and other things, such as protein and fiber intake), and I make sure that I’m eating enough calories, but also that I’m exercising at a level that makes sure I have a deficit of calories at the end of the day. I’m pretty serious about staying hydrated, and I’m equally serious about not consuming specific things (like diet drinks, which generally have aspartame or other sweeteners that are HORRID for the body- but that’s a subject for another day). A few days ago, I was in the emergency room with my son when I overheard a police officer, in uniform and apparently on duty at the hospital, rudely addressing a young man. He was practically yelling at the man, in front of his young daughter, who was already near tears when he walked in behind me and my son forty minutes earlier at 11:22 pm. It was, by now, 12:03 am.
“You weren’t here thirty minutes ago! I’ve been here the whole time, you weren’t here!” The officer leaned over the man and made it a point to be as intimidating as possible, his arm outstretched in a mock knife hand. I twisted in my seat to get a better view of the man’s name tag and prepared to call the police department. I knew then that he was out of line. But lousy cell service meant my phone wouldn’t make any outgoing calls and, before I could get a clear view of the officer’s name tag, he turned and stomped away, yelling over his shoulder at the man, who by this point was shaking and terrified. Prolific. Hilarious. Brilliant. Depressed. Inspiring.
These words and more have flashed across my screen as I read news of Robin Williams’ death. Born in 1981, I grew up watching Williams. I remember re-runs of Mork and Mindy, and some of my favorite memories of re-runs began with “Good Morning Vietnam!” blasting from some little set in some room I can’t quite remember- it’s been so long ago. I laughed through Mrs. Doubtfire, leaned on the edge of my seat through Jumanji, and even teared up during Patch Adams. At some point as a teen, I watched “Dead Poets Society” and a small flame was lit in my heart to become a writer. Robin Williams’ long career as an actor, writer, director, and comedian had more of an influence on me professionally than any other celebrity. (the name has been changed for privacy reasons)
Dear Jason, I sit down to write this and am flooded with memories and thoughts. I suffered a great deal of innocent joy because of you, and I will always love you for that. You managed to slowly make your way past the walls I’d established around my heart, clearing out the debris and making your place there permanent. You came in to my life with instant smiles and humor and won me over simply by accident. I know it was your goal all along, but I never saw it happening. I just relaxed in to it and before I could stop it- I found myself falling wildly in love with you. |
AuthorKatie Foley is the Editor-in-Chief at Many Kind Regards and the Creator of Highly Offensive Mom. An independent author, her work has appeared in multiple publications, both in print and online, and she has published two novels. Married to a US Marine, she is a mom to three kids, an author, a volunteer, and the 2014 & 2015 Independent and Reserve Installation Marine Corps Spouse of the Year. Additionally, she is the lead for the Bryan College Station chapter of In Gear Career. In her spare time she likes to breathe and draw up plans for the invasion of small countries. You can stalk her on Facebook and Twitter. Archives
November 2015
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