Bottling Her Joy So I Remember It Later

We can't be the only parents who spent the weekend looking for ponies to buy.

That's to say, if Alexis had said, "Jump!" we would have eagerly started bouncing up and down as we asked her "Is this high enough? How about now?" We would have charged her a hug or fifty in exchange for doing her bidding, but it would have been a very fair price to pay. The universe shifted on Friday, and for the first time in her short life, Alexis truly was at the center of it all, right along with every other kid on the planet.

Fortunately, she was blissfully unaware of the shift in power.

Until tonight.

I don't remember exactly when I deleted the email, but there was a moment over the weekend when I thought to myself, "Go find it." So I did. I dug through hundreds and hundreds of deleted emails to find The One from her school.

The One about the cheerleading workshop.

For as long as she can remember, Alexis has been all sorts of enthusiastic about the idea of being a cheerleader. I'm about as enthusiastic about it as I am about going to the dentist and having more root canals, so when I saw the registration form for an upcoming cheerleading workshop weeks ago, I hit the delete button so fast my Delete Finger nearly caught on fire.

But then there was Friday and suddenly it seemed like the appropriate thing to do was to serve all the six and seven-year old kids in this world everything their little hearts desire on a silver platter. With whipped cream on top. And a cherry.

So I found the email. I printed out the registration form and then read and re-read the program description. It basically says, "Your kid will have a super duper fun time while you want to rip your hair out because this will be a form of parental torture." Long practices, a ridiculous schedule, and now might be a good time to point out that I'm not kidding when I say I don't like people.

I really don't like people. I especially don't like other people's kids. Or other kids' parents. I don't like anyone.

Yet, I handed that registration form to Alexis and asked her to read it and tell me what I should do with it. As she read each line, I could feel her excitement mounting. She held her breath and held it some more and held it some more and then she squealed with glee. "Momma! Can I be a cheerleader?"

I don't need to tell you that, though. I'm sure you heard her squeals. I hope your ears have recovered a bit by now.

We filled out the form together and a pajama-clad Alexis threw on some slippers so she could run it out to the mailbox Right. That. Second. She spent the rest of the evening grinning from ear to ear as she practiced the few cheers she already knows. Happiness emanated from her every pore as she thought about how excited she was to get to go be a cheerleader for a few hours in a few months.

I can't say that I'm quite as excited that I will get the privilege of playing chauffeur and will be blessed enough to have to spend hours surrounded by humans that will make me crazy. But, you know what? I'm going to do it with a grin on my face.

Because I can.

And sometimes that's enough.

Chocolate Peppermint Dip

Neighbors.

Chocolate

Good friends.

Candy canes.

Time together.

These are just a few of the good things in life.

We are extremely fortunate to have found some very good friends living just feet from our back door. They are the kind of people that you know would do anything for anyone, and they most especially would do anything for Alexis.

That makes the Awesome People, y'now?

So whenever there is a chance for us to all spend time together, we do. Food is often at the fringes of the good conversation because, well, OBVIOUSLY. Time well-spent is often time spent shoving Chocolate Peppermint Dip into your face.

This stuff is good with pretzels, apples, strawberries, animal crackers, bananas, and pretty much anything else you can think of. It's just a good dip with a bit of a holiday flair that's easy to throw together in a hurry.

Chocolate Peppermint Dip

1 8-oz package cream cheese, softened
1 7-oz jar marshmallow fluff
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
2 teaspoons cocoa powder
3-4 crushed candy canes

1. Throw the cream cheese, marshmallow fluff, peppermint, and cocoa powder into a medium mixing bowl together.

2. Mix at low speed.

3. Add the crushed candy cans and stir.

4. Share with good friends.

An Explanation

Sometimes it's hard to find words to put in this place. It's the hardest when life is halted because a nightmare has become reality. I want to write so that I can work out my thoughts, and yet I can't write because waiting and listening and thinking are my first instinct. I'm the last person to speak up in nearly every situation because I want to gather all of the information, consider all of the facts, and really evaluate my thoughts before I say them out loud.

I'm still thinking about Friday, as I'm sure almost everyone is. There is no way I could walk around with a bubbly, full-of-life six-year old and not think about the what ifs.

Every moment of every day ... what if? Why? How could he? What if?

It can be so very crippling to focus on the nightmares.

I didn't grow up a Mister Rogers fan (Contain your shock, please. I grew up in rural North Dakota without cable and very barely ever watched any TV because of it.). I had never heard his quote about finding "the helpers" until this weekend. But, without having the words to describe what it is that I do, that's it. That. I do that.

When nightmares surround me, I look for something good to focus on.

It's why I started tweeting about Christmas Crazy in the midst of Friday's horror unfolding. I needed to. For me. I needed to focus on all of the amazing people who did a very good thing for kids they have never met. I needed to find some good and I needed to swim in it for a few hours.

So while I try to sort out the nightmares and process it all, I'm going to spend as much time as I can finding good. You'll be seeing it reflected in posts here for the next few days, I'm sure.

I guess I'm saying that things will continue on around these parts, but it's not because my mind has moved on. It's because my mind needs some rays of light as it works through the darkness.