Yet

SWEET MOTHER OF A HORNLESS ONE-EYED BLUE UNICORN, I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN.

And ... exhale.

Finally.

This child, she who takes perfectionism to all never before seen heights, has finally, FINALLY figured out this whole riding a bike without training wheels thing.

It only took her two years.

That's two years of being absolutely capable physically, but tripping over her own mental roadblocks every time she tried. For two years the kid has alternated between refusing to try, refusing to let anyone help her, yelling at everyone for not helping her, screaming bloody murder because she wanted to try but not right then or there or how, and did I mention that she didn't want help but you better help her because OMG.

Really.

The very fist time she seriously put her mind to trying, I fell into the trap. She screamed and yelled and demanded help/no help/go away/where are you, back and forth and on and on. I screamed back.

You know, I should know by now that never works. Sometimes I like to try anyway. Just in case. So I can feel really stupid afterwards.

ANYWAY.

The overall theme of the refusing to learn to just ride the freakin' bike has been "I can't." Alexis screamed, yelled, whispered, and sobbed through those words SO MANY TIMES.

Once it occurred to me that screaming back at her just made things worse, I started to reply to her "I can't" with one simple word -- YET.

Alexis would say, "I can't.

I would calmly say, "Yet. Repeat it. You can't YET."

And I would make her repeat it. Over and over and over to the point that I'm now quite certain that some day the kid will write a paper on all of the ways she hates the word "Yet." It's probably the word that ruined her childhood, but I don't care. I have no patience for when people hit the self-destruct button. "I can't" is an instantly annoying little phrase full of self-destruction, self-pity, and laziness.

You can't YET, people. Today might not be the day, but that doesn't mean tomorrow won't be.

But today was the day. Today was the day that Alexis stopped feeling embarrassed about being the last human on earth to learn how to ride a bike (her words). Today was the day that Alexis stopped telling every adult in her life, "I don't like it when I need help." Today was the day that Alexis shut her trap, put her feet on those pedals, and then rode all around the block.

And now begins the phase when I tell her "You can't," as in "You can't just go riding your bike without telling me where you are going to be."

Yet.

An Hour Well Spent at BlogHer13

It never fails that a BlogHer conference will come and go and the internet will become littered with commentary about every little detail.

There were too many cliques.

So-and-so is such a douche in person.

I'm pretty sure she has had plastic surgery.

The sessions were a waste of time.

It would have been better if this had happened.

Did you hear about that crap so-and-so pulled?

OMG. It was nothing but swag whores.

And on and on.

I've never truly experienced any of that stuff, but I suppose that has a lot to do with my approach to the whole thing. I figure that there are 5,000 women there. If I can't find someone who I click with, someone whose company I enjoy, well ... if I can't find fun while surrounded by 5,000 other people, I probably should go stare in a mirror and figure out what it is about me that I need to change because I must be the problem.

This year I walked out of a session because I didn't find it valuable. I'm sure the content was right for someone, but that someone wasn't me. It's on me to recognize that I'm not spending that hour how I want to and to fix it.

This year I found myself in the middle of a conversation between very assertive women who were more than happy to tell me how very awesome they are in every way. I'm sure they really are, but I'm more of a two-way conversation sort of person, so I excused myself and sought out awesome. I knew it was my responsibility to find a way to make that hour fun.

This year I turned the other way when I saw some people pandering for every free thing under the sun. The potential for swag whoring was impressive, but I figured THAT is how they wanted to spend that hour of their lives. That's fantastic for them. Truly. It's not how I want to spend my hour, though, so I walked the other way.

Everybody wins when you walk away from the things that don't fit with what you want to do.

On the flip side, this year I laughed so hard that my eyeballs turned into sprinklers. I probably looked like a total wreck laughing so hard that I was crying, but OH WELL. Just thinking about that moment is making me chuckle. It should be impossible to still be laughing about something that happened nearly a week ago.

This year I was inspired. The International Activist winners talked about how they overcome some incredible challenges, and they do it with a smile on their faces. I hope that this blog sometimes makes a difference in someone's life, but I'm incredibly grateful it doesn't come at a high price. Hearing what those women do in the face of adversity made me want to do more. Far more.

This year I cried because that's what you do when you listen to the Voices of the Year readings. It's the good kind of cry.

This year I truly had more fun than anyone should be allowed to have.

But the best part is that I managed to achieve one very important goal. Before I left, I asked Alexis what I should bring back for her from Chicago. She replied, "A picture of the bean."

Mission accomplished.

It's always a good thing when you can have a great time AND do something for your kid.

Is This Really How You Want To Spend This One

She turned her fiery eyes to me, dropped her lip to the floor, and snarled, "NO."

Seven is such a joyous year. It comes with smiles and giggles and great conversations, but that's all countered by OMG THE MOUTH ON THIS CHILD. She has an independent streak ten miles wide.

I have no clue where she gets it from. Ahem.

Alexis and I went back and forth a few times, her turning more and more angry as I calmly reminded her that I am the Queen of Her Universe and this is a dictatorship. If I say, "go to bed," the appropriate answer is to turn around and run into your bedroom.

The appropriate answer is NOT to argue with me.

Alas, Alexis was in the mood to argue. I, apparently, was in the mood to come up with randomly awesome lines of wisdom. "Alexis, there are only 24 hours in a day. Do you really want to spend this one fighting with me?"

Alexis paused, stomped her foot, and stormed away to bed, all the while mumbling, "No" under her breath.

I think she was admitting I was right, which I was. There are only 24 hours in a day. Is this really how you want to spend this one? My own words ringed loud in my ears, immediately settling in under my skin and forcing me to face the fact that I could very often stand to consider that exact thought.

A few weeks later, I think "Is this really how you want to spend this one?" a lot. Every time I turn to the laptop to goof off. Every time I fixate on trying to change something that cannot be changed. Every time I find myself wanting to complain about whatever situation.

Is this really how you want to spend this one?

It's the question that has helped me focus. It's the question that has helped me let go of guilt when the answer was, "Yes, I absolutely do want to spend this hour accomplishing nothing." It has helped me acknowledge that I wasn't enjoying that particular hour of my life and that I have to do something about it if I want it to change.

It's the most magical phrase ever.

Too bad I didn't think of it sooner.