Stopped in My Tracks

Just home from a celebration in Michigan, I was flying around the kitchen like a hummingbird feeding on nectar. Eden, five, sitting at the counter coloring me her umpteenth butterfly, trilled "Mama?" Still making lunches, stacking plates, filling water bottles, I mumbled, "Uh huh, what's up?”

Breaststroke Queen

"Mama, do you think I have a fat ass?"



What?!?! I swung around and asked, "What could you possibly mean Eden?" My instant parent-panic bell went off searching my brain for moments when barely audibly I may have made reference to the size of my own caboose. I came up blank. We minimize comments about appearance and maximize words on inner beauty, kindness, and compassion. Could it be possible that at five years old, Eden was worrying about the size of her rear - what's next Botox at six?



Turns out, Eden was merely repeating a line from the movie “Hairspray,” most likely asked by Tracy Turnblad. I breathed a sigh of relief while Remi, close enough to hear this exchange, laughed loud and hysterically for a good five minutes.

Before I could wallop Eden with my usual, “No potty words, words can be hurtful and beauty comes from the inside,” she hit me up again. "Mama?" On point now, I returned her serve promptly and attentively, "Yes Eden?"



"What does extraordinary mean?"



Phew. I explained that extraordinary means amazing, over-the-top, better than great, wonderful, something truly special. On and on I gushed about the word extraordinary so happy not to be defining ass. "You get it Eden? Do you get what extraordinary means?"

"I get it mom."

"Good." I said.



"It means you, Mom. It means you. You are extraordinary."



In one sixty-second arc, Eden propelled me from shocked parent whose kid is worrying about the size of her trunk to an elated over-the-moon mom.  Kids will bring you to your knees over homework assignments or what to wear and lift you back up again with a hug or an unexpected kind word.



Stressed out before our Michigan trip with the kids’ schedules, updating our babysitter on who has to be where when, food shopping, book reports and sports, I was tapped out. When Remi was diagnosed with strep throat, as we were plane bound, I thought I would explode into ash. Finally back home from the doctor's office, first dose of antibiotics coursing through her veins, calm was settling back in.



Concerned about her sister and how she was feeling, Eden turned to Remi and asked her, "How does having Breaststroke make you feel?" I didn't hear Remi's answer over her giggle fit, but I instantly knew mine. Having strep throat or breaststroke, at that moment, felt pretty damn good! Kids will do that to you.