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Feeling like a magnet?…

/ Lesa / 2 Comments

I graduated back in good old 1985.  We had two choices in high school when it came to classes back then: college prep or business.  I chose the business route so right after graduation I went out and got a job as a secretary (now they call us Administrative Assistants – sounds so much fancier).  As soon as I secured my first full-time job, I went out and bought a car.  It wasn’t just any car though…it was a brand, spanking new 1985 dark blue Pontiac Firebird. Sweet!  The little kids in my neighborhood thought it was Night Rider (if you remember that David Hasselhoff show).  I can’t believe I don’t have any pictures of it, but I guess back then we didn’t have the convenience of cell phone cameras (smile).  I loved that car.  There was just one problem.  It was a magnet.  That’s right…a magnet.  It just had a way of finding trouble.

My first job was in downtown Baltimore City.  One day as I was driving home, a car cut me off big time.  I didn’t hit the car in front of me, but I felt a “bump” from the back.  I looked in my rear view mirror, but the car behind me was too far back to be what hit me.  I got out of my car in time to see a guy picking up his motorcycle. I asked him if he was hurt and if his bike was damaged.  He answered no to both.  I told him I was sorry, but I had been cut off and that’s why I slammed on my brakes.  I looked to see if my car had damage.  Not a scratch…just a tire print from where the motorcycle literally drove up the back of my car.  Luckily it just took a little elbow grease to get the rubber and dirt off.  Another day driving home, a police officer decided to open his car door just as I was passing him.  He tore up the whole front panel of my car, and then tried to say it was my fault!  I won the fight and the city paid to have my car fixed.

I left the job in the city and got a job where I had to drive I95 everyday.  Sometimes I would need to be to work by 5am.  I lived a half hour away so I was on the road really early.  This was 21 years ago so the highway wasn’t quite as crazy as it is now, and it was pretty empty that time of morning.  I was driving along one day, and saw a tree in the middle of the highway.  A tree!  I didn’t see it until the last minute because it was so dark outside.  I was able to miss most of it, but I did run over one of the branches.  It made an awful sound.  I got to work and when I got out of my car I smelled burnt wood.  I apparently dragged the branch all the way to work with me.  I worked in the offices at Costco so I got the tire center guys to put it on the lift.  Luckily I didn’t do any damage.  Another day on my way home from work on I95 a car in the fast lane lost it’s muffler.  Yep…the whole thing. Now when you are going at a high rate of speed and something falls off your car…it bounces.  I started wincing because I knew exactly what was going to happen.  That muffler bounced from the fast lane over to me in the slow lane. It hit the front of my car, slid up the windshield, and flew off the back. Then there was the time a guy hit me because he was reading the newspaper while driving.  Really?!  Who does that?!  I could go on and on about this car.  It was just a magnet for bad luck.

Do you ever find yourself feeling like a magnet?  Like everything that can go wrong…does go wrong…or trouble just has a way of finding you.  An appliance breaks, your car needs repair, the kids are sick, you get laid off from work, you get bad news about your health, lose a loved one…it can start to feel like you are attracting trouble.  This week as Easter approaches I’ve been contemplating Jesus’ suffering.  Sometimes as Christians we tend to think that once we become believers that should be it for our troubles.  Everything should be peachy keen.  The Bible doesn’t promise us that though.  What it does promise us is that God is always with us. We get dinged and dented like my car by life’s difficulties.  We aren’t perfect.  We have flaws.  But we are loved anyway.  Deeply.  In some of my hardest trials, God has revealed Himself to me in the most incredible ways.  If I never went through those troubles, I wouldn’t have had those experiences with Him.  Now that doesn’t make me say, “Sign me up for some more hardship!”  But it does remind me that He will use those times to help me grow into the person He has created me to be.

I saw this on Facebook today and it reminded me about what I’ve been reflecting on this week.suffering

2 Corinthians 12:9

Each time he said, “My grace is all you need.  My power works best in weakness.”  So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.

How cool is it that we are used in our weakness!  We don’t need to be strong and have it all together.  We can still be used despite all our dents and dings from life.  Just like my car…even though it was a little beat up, it was still reliable transportation for me.  It was still very useful and valuable.  Jesus suffered on the cross for us so that we could have eternal life with God.  The sufferings I experience here on earth are just a blink of an eye compared to the eternal treasures of heaven.  It doesn’t mean it will be easy.  But I am so thankful that Jesus paved the way for me to have a personal relationship with my Father in heaven.  It makes those hardships a little easier having Him by my side.

We need to remember that we have been given a gift.  And we need to know that we can claim to be all of these things if we accept Christ:

New in Christ high res copy

 

Jesus died on the cross for us because he loves us.  We need to share that love with others…because love matters.

Coffee-for-Your-Heart-150

MVA and old ladies…the good and the bad…

/ Lesa / 1 Comment

When I was 25 years old, I needed to get my driver’s license renewed.  I had just had my son and didn’t want to have to take him with me so I went on a Saturday when my husband was off work.  I just so happened to pick a Saturday that a flock of teens were testing to get their drivers licenses. The lobby was filled with parents anxiously awaiting their son or daughter to turn the corner.  Did they pass the test?  As I was waiting for my turn to get my picture taken and such, I would hear loud cheers coming from the lobby area.  Another teen passed and got their coveted license.  As I finished up and headed out to the lobby, I opened the door and was also greeted with loud cheers and congratulations.  It took me a minute to realize that the parents assumed that I was a teen that just got their license.  Pretty cool considering I was 25 and a new mother.  Really I chalk it up to being short…people tend to think you are younger when you’re short…but hey…I’ll take it.  Felt pretty good.

There was a down side to looking younger though.  As a way to help senior citizens get their exercise, the malls in my area open their doors early so that the seniors can walk the mall before the stores open.old lady This is especially great when it’s inclement weather. Moms take advantage of it too and strap their young ones in strollers to share the halls with the seniors.   I would frequent the mall in those early days when my son was a baby to get some exercise when it was too cold or rainy outside to do so.  Well it didn’t take long to hear the comments.  There were lots of  little old ladies in that mall and they weren’t shy about sharing their opinion.  In what they thought was a whisper, they would talk to one another as they walked by me.  “That is just awful.  Look at her.  She is just a baby herself.  I don’t know what it is with this generation…babies having babies…it’s just dreadful.”  They assumed I was a teen mom.  I just wanted to yell back at them.  “I’m 25…and I’m married thank you very much!”  It used to make me feel bad.  How could they just assume that about me?

Has anyone ever assumed something about you that wasn’t true?  Are you a quite person?  Do people automatically assume you are stuck up?  Are you overweight because of a medical reason like a thyroid problem and people automatically assume that you just eat too much or are lazy?  It hurts.  You just want to shout…”You’re wrong!  You don’t know my story!”  Assuming that you know something about someone that isn’t correct can cause them great distress.

Here are some untruths that some people assume about gay people:

* They will try to change you.  There are people who think that hanging around someone who is gay will somehow make them gay.  This can’t happen.  You are born gay.  Period.  Just like gay people hanging around straight people won’t make them straight.

*All gay people think about is sex.  Not true.  They are just like straight people.  They don’t think about sex any more or less than a straight person.  We have to stop treating them like they are a sexual act.  If you meet a straight person, you aren’t thinking about who they are having sex with…it should be the same with someone who is gay. Gay/Straight…it comes down to wanting to be loved.  Sex isn’t what defines any of us.

*Gay people aren’t Christians.  There are a lot of gay Christians. I have more to say about this, but I will save that for another time. (smile)

*Gay people are attracted to every person of the same-sex.  As a straight person, are you attracted to every person of the opposite sex?  No.  Neither are gay people.

*Gay people are pedophiles.  I want you to let this one sink in a little.  Imagine if people thought this about your child. Not because of anything they did…just because of how they were born.  Sickening.  Imagine walking around with that burden as a gay person.  I can’t say anything else about this while still being loving so I’m going to let it go.  Let’s just say people need to stop thinking this.

People wonder sometimes why some gay people are so angry.  Well…as a parent of a gay child it’s hard sometimes for me to not walk around angry all the time.  If something has ever been falsely assumed about you, I think you may understand somewhat.  I can’t even begin to tell you the horrors that some gay people have faced. And as a Christian it pains me deeply that some of these things have been done by fellow Christians.  Before you assume something about anyone, get to know them.  Learn their story.  You may find that you had it all wrong.

Love each other…because love matters.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8…

/ Lesa / Leave a comment

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I was a pee wee majorette.  This is me.  Yes the hat was just about as big as I wasmarching back then (smile).  Purple outfit, purple baton, and white boots.  Woo hoo!  I liked marching in the parades, but I really couldn’t wait to be one of the “big” girls. The routine that they did was way cooler than ours. They actually got to throw their batons.  My group routine was so simple that I still remember it today.  We would march through the streets repeating the movements over and over again.  One day as I arrived at the starting point of the parade, I was told that our leader was sick and couldn’t make it.  The leader was always in front of us and she let us know when it was time to do the routine.  Her most important job was to make sure we were ready to go when we passed in front of the judges.  Yes we were judged…I’m not sure why…I don’t remember seeing anyone winning anything, but there must have been some kind of reward at the end of the parade.  On this particular day, I was informed that I was going to be the leader.  Gulp!  Me the leader??  I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it.  But honestly I felt like I didn’t have a choice so I took my spot at the front of the group.  I was told where the judges stand was located and off we went.  I was so nervous.  Everything we did was an 8 count.  Put your arms up and out…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.  Fold your arms in front of you…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…and so on.  I saw the judges and I led my little group through the routine…and I survived!

This was something I enjoyed.  I signed up for it.  Even though it was something I did willingly, being judged on it was very nerve-wracking every time I did it.  Sweating bullets kind of pressure even it if was just the pee wee majorettes (smile).  Have you ever signed up for something that required you be judged on your performance?  It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes.

How about not signing up for the judgement?  How about being judged for who you are?  I know I’ve talked about this judgement thing before, but it keeps coming up in conversations.  So, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about again…or God’s been having me think about it.  I think sometimes people just don’t realize that they are judging others.  I’ll give you an example…Before we came out that our son is gay, my husband and I were with a group of people.  The topic of homosexuality came up and one of the guys in the group piped up and said, “those people are freaks!”  If I had hair on my back like my dog Lucy, it would have been puffed up like hers when she is in protector mode.  My first reaction inside was anger.  But God gently whispered that this statement was coming from ignorance.  And I don’t mean someone who is unschooled or illiterate, I just mean someone who doesn’t have the experience or knowledge on the subject matter.  It helped me to calm down.  When my husband and I came out to this same group, the same guy touted that he is not judgemental and would never judge our son.

So what was offensive or judging?  First the statement of “those people.”  Ask any gay person and they will tell you they want to be treated like everyone else.  They don’t want to be seen as “those” people…just people.  And the “freak”part is obvious.  Did you know that silence can also feel like judgement?  You may not mean it, but your silence at times speaks volumes.  And it may just be that you don’t know what to say.  I want to let you know it’s ok if you don’t know what to say….just say that! (smile).

We need to remind ourselves of this:

Romans 2:1-4 (NLT)

2 You may think you can condemn such people, but you are just as bad, and you have no excuse! When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you who judge others do these very same things. 2 And we know that God, in his justice, will punish anyone who does such things. 3 Since you judge others for doing these things, why do you think you can avoid God’s judgment when you do the same things? 4 Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?

Now this verse says, “for you who judge others do these very same things.” Maybe this is a stumbling block.  A straight person does not struggle with same-sex attraction, and they never will.  And because they don’t struggle with it, it is easy to condemn others who do.  An “I would never do that.” type of attitude.  I don’t know. When I read this verse, I read that I am a sinner.  Just like everyone else.  I need to worry about myself and go to God for forgiveness and be sure to forgive others.  It’s not my place to point out to someone else what I think they are doing is wrong.  And I’m not talking about the whole accountable thing that church people like to talk about.  You don’t know what any one person is going through, and you don’t know what kind of relationship they have with God.

It amazes me sometimes that people are surprised about the struggles that some gay people go through.  People are really hurting out there.  They overhear statements like what I mention above.  They didn’t choose to be gay (I don’t think I can ever say that enough).  Being judged for who you are is just unfair.

Just my ramblings this week…a topic I’m sure I’ll be thinking about again.

Love each other…because love matters.

 

 

Say it isn’t so…

/ Lesa / 4 Comments

When I was 10 years old, my friends and I loved to skate board.  Now we are talking 1977 so it wasn’t the cool skate boards of today.  The boards were much different back then.  They were very thin, barely fitting your foot – not like the wider versions of today.  And although the wheels weren’t metal like the roller skates back in the day, they weren’t the greatest.  My board was bright yellow and as I think back to what it looked like…it was like riding a banana (smile).  One fateful day as I was riding my skate board home, I had a little accident.  One of my wheels hit a small rock.  The skate board stopped…I didn’t.  I went flying through the air and landed…on my face…specifically…my mouth.  As I was picking myself up off the sidewalk, a little piece of my tooth fell out of my mouth.  It was pretty small so I didn’t think anything of it.  I picked up my board and walked the rest of the way home.

I walked in the front door and told my mom what happened.  She looked at my tooth and admitted that it wasn’t that bad (in fact…she had chipped the same tooth – in the same pattern).  But then she said eight words that rocked my world, “If your tooth dies, it will turn black.”  What?!  Your tooth can die?  She explained that when you injure your tooth sometimes the root dies and it can turn black.  I started crying.  I didn’t want a black tooth.  It was my front tooth! Everyone would see it!  Moments ago I landed on my face and didn’t shed a tear, but my mom tells me that my tooth may change color and I completely fall apart.

When I first learned that my son was gay, it was upsetting.  Not so much because he was gay, but at the time I believed that something somewhere along his life went wrong.  It was my fault…or his dad’s.  I never believed it was a choice, but rather something that could be “fixed.”  So although it was upsetting, I had hope that he could change.  I read everything I could get my hands on regarding the subject.  What I found was very conflicting information.  Upsetting information.  From the Christian standpoint, orientation could be changed.  I read articles from organizations from ex-gay ministries that were very hopeful.  Stories about how people were able to become attracted to the opposite sex.  From the LGBT standpoint, orientation could not be changed.  I read articles from people about how the ex-gay ministry techniques had hurt them.  Stories from parents that had lost their children to suicide because the shame and pain were too much for them to handle when the change they prayed for didn’t happen.

I read my Bible and articles from people who study the Bible.  Scholars of the different languages and cultures of the time.  I found the same thing here.  Compelling arguments from both sides of the debate (Christian and Gay).  What was I supposed to do?  What should I believe?  I found myself distancing myself from God.  I started to read my Bible less, and my prayer life was dwindling.  I felt like I had to make a choice.  Love God, or love my son.  It seemed the two could not co-exist.  I realize now that I didn’t come to this conclusion from reading the Bible, or from reading the articles I had found.  It came from the body of Christ.  The conversations I was hearing among believers on this subject.  People didn’t know that I had a gay son so they spoke freely in front of me about how they felt about gay people.  And what I was hearing was ugly and hateful.  I felt so torn…I didn’t believe what my fellow believers were saying, but I also didn’t want to be blinded by my hopes and dreams for my son.

So I went straight to God.  I told Him that I needed His help.  I didn’t know how to do this.  I was confused.  I so desperately wanted to do the right thing.  I told Him I was at a crossroad…I couldn’t take all the back and forth information.  I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do whatever it was I needed to do.  It was scary because I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what He would tell me (just like I didn’t like hearing my tooth might turn black).  This is the gist what I heard:

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am God…you are not.  Stop trying to figure this out.  I got this.  It’s between myself and your son, the child that I created.  I love him and it is ok for you to love him too.”  My response was something like, “But God he has stepped away from you right now.  How is he going to hear you?  How will he know what you want him to do?”  And again I heard that it wasn’t for me to figure out…just to love him.  “But what if he dates someone.  What am I supposed to do then??”  And I heard, “Love him too.”  WOW…really?  Well, I can do that (smile).

dont worryI found this on the internet this week.  It reminded me of my brief crisis of faith through this experience.  There were lots of tears, many prayers, and unbearable pain at times.  God saw me, He heard me, and He gave me peace.  I am so thankful for that.

This is an issue that deserves our attention.  Those of us that have gay children feel like we have been plopped down into the middle of a war.  A war we didn’t ask for, a war that our children didn’t ask for.  I have read story after story from parents about how they and their children have been treated by the church…by other believers, in very unkind, unloving ways. Kids are dying.  I love my church…I love the Church.  I just think we need to have some conversations.  I would like to tell people things like think before you speak.  You have no idea what it is like to go through this unless you experience it first hand.  Have your opinions, but speak them with love.  It is possible you know.  And maybe before you give your opinion…ask questions.  Make sure you truly understand the impact of what you are going to say.

We all have trials in this life that we go through.  Whether it’s having a gay child, going through a divorce, dealing with illness, having an addiction, chipping your tooth (smile).  God always sees, always hears, and He will deliver. Most of the time in very surprising, unexpected ways.  By the way…my tooth didn’t turn black.  And after many years of harassment from my dentist…I finally got it fixed 12 years after my accident (smile).

Love each other…God commands it…because love matters.

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Extreme heat, no food, and wild hair…oh my!

/ Lesa / 8 Comments

I’m changing things up a little with this post.  I haven’t had a decent night sleep since December 11th when my husband Mike herniated a disc and with his recent surgery it’s been 14 days of even less sleep.  So, I am going to share a story that my friends have been telling me I need to write for years.  I like to have peace about what God wants me to write about and due to lack of sleep I just don’t have that right now.  So today something more lighthearted.

When my children were little, my husband Mike traveled quite a bit for work.  I was a stay at home mom at the time and he was always bugging the kids and I to go with him.  It was not only too expensive, but I have a bit of an issue with flying.  It messes with my equilibrium and the airplane literally does tumblesaults through the air (but that is a story for another time).  He was thrilled when he had a conference scheduled in Crystal City, Virginia because it was driving distance from our house.  It’s close to DC so he assured me that there would be lots for me and the kids to do and he even called the hotel to make sure.  The lady at the hotel told him that there was plenty to do even for a boy who just turned 3 and a little girl who was 19 months old.

So, I packed us all up and we went with him.  It was a really fancy hotel…full of nothing but businessmen. There was not one other family (at least not any that I saw) in that hotel and those ladies just ate my kids up.  I think they told my husband there was something for the kids to do just so they would have kids to play with.

The conference was at the end of August.  It was the hottest week of the summer.  The kind that they say to keep the elderly and young inside.  There was absolutely nothing for me and the kids to do.  My husband was in the conference all day and afterwards would eat dinner with us, but after that he spent the entire rest of the night on the computer trying to keep up with tasks at the office.  So, it was just me and the kids most of the time.  There is only so much running through hallways and riding elevators that you can do in a WEEK.  I was losing my mind.  The ladies at the front desk did arrange for the shuttle bus from the hotel to take us to a mall.  But really it was just a building with businesses in it with some shops and a little food court.  I had a double stroller and this mall had steps so lets just say it wasn’t very kid friendly.  There was another day that the hotel shuttle took us to a little “park” (it was in the middle of the business district) that had a little fountain in the center.  I would swear that the water was boiling and not an actual fountain since it was so hot.  We were there for a total of 15 minutes until we couldn’t take it anymore.

By the fourth day of absolutely nothing to do, the ladies at the front desk convinced me to go to the Children’s Museum in DC.  They told me I would just need to take the metro to DC, and the museum was not far from the station.  They said I wouldn’t even need to take my stroller because it was so close.  I was instructed to ask a policeman where the museum was located when I got off the train.  Now, I had never in my life been on the metro.  I really had no idea what I was doing…and I had a 3-year-old and a 19 month old.  But I was so desperate I would do anything to keep these kids occupied.  I was told by the ladies that the museum had a nice cafeteria and plenty to do to keep us busy all day.  Sounded like heaven, and I was told it should only take about 40 minutes to get there including hotel shuttle to metro station, the ride to DC, and then the short walk to the museum.  So it was a go.

The next day the kids and I got up, had a little granola bar for breakfast, and headed out the door at 9am.  We got on the hotel shuttle and we were on our way.  We got to the metro station and I very carefully plotted our route. To get to the train, we had to go down a very long escalator.  I scooped up McKensie and instructed Kyle (Kai) to hold onto my shorts pocket so that I could hold the railing to keep my balance.  As I held McKensie, to my surprise, I felt a naked little butt.  Apparently she took her pull-up off before we left the hotel and I didn’t realize it (she was trying to be like her big brother and use the potty).  I was mortified because she had a cute little denim dress on that she very proudly was lifting up and down as I was trying to get the two of them through the hotel lobby…in front of many businessmen I might add (sigh).  I’m sure they thought I was a stellar parent.

We made it to the train and eventually arrived at our destination.  We walked outside the station and I looked for a policeman to ask for directions to the museum.  Unfortunately, there weren’t any in sight.  I started to walk down the street, but it was so busy with construction and people that I decided to go back in the train station and ask someone in there.  By this time, both kids were tired of walking and wanted to be held.  Now, I need to explain that although they are both toothpick thin now, they were not back then.  They were quite chunky and a little bit of a handful for my 5′ 105 pound self.  We made it back into the station where there were many little shops and I went in one by one asking if they new where the Children’s Museum was located.  Not one person could tell me.  Now the ladies at the hotel said it was close to the station.  How come no one could give me directions?

I decided to go back outside and try to find it.  I asked someone that looked friendly (the ladies freaked me out a little by being very specific about asking a policeman).  They gave me some directions which I followed to no avail. So, I asked someone else…followed their directions to no avail.  This went on…and on…and on.  It was 98 degrees outside.  There was no shade.  And I had two little ones that were tired of walking.  I was carrying them both at the same time on and off during this little adventure.  I was hot, sweaty, and hungry.  I couldn’t wait to get to that museum to cool off and get something to eat.

We walked, and walked, and walked until finally we saw…a policeman!  I had flashbacks to all of the school assemblies when I was a little girl where a policeman would come and talk to us about how important it was to listen to them and how they were here to help us.  We were given little booklets with the title “Officer Friendly” on the front.  I’m pretty sure I heard angels sing when I saw him.  At the time, I had a kid on each hip.  He looked at me and asked, “Are you going to the Children’s Museum?”  He knew!  I replied, “Yes I am.”  And he said…”I don’t think you’re going to make it.”  What!?  So much for Officer Friendly.  I asked him where it was and he pointed to a hill and at the very top was the museum.  Well, you don’t tell me that I can’t do something.  I thanked him (some help he was) and headed toward the hill.  Now I could go up the street and around a corner to get there, or I could take a shortcut through some really tall grass.  I took the shortcut and the whole time I was literally chanting in my head, “I think I can…I think I can.”  Relief was coming…the museum was in sight.

We got to the entrance.  It was basically a big, old stone house that had been converted into a museum.  We walked through the front door waiting to be greeted with a cool breeze of air conditioning.  Instead we got…stifling hot air. The air conditioner was broken.  Are you kidding me??  We paid for our tickets and I asked where the cafeteria was located.  It was right down the hall.  We hurried along, got to the entrance and found…vending machines.  There was no cafeteria.  I only had a few coins, but I was so hungry I bought us some peanuts and a 7-Up to share.  I figured once we scarfed those down I could get more change for more food.  You see it was 2 o’clock.  The 40 minute trip took us 5 HOURS.  We were starving!  We finished our snack and scared peoplestarted to go back out front to get more change when we were greeted with screaming people running down the hall.  What were they screaming you ask?  “He’s got a gun!”  Yep, the museum was robbed.  So much for getting change. The gunman took ALL of the money.  Luckily he took the money and ran so we were safe.  In the back of my mind though, all I could think about was I had no idea how I got to this museum and I had no idea how to get back to the train station and there was some maniac running around with a gun. So glad we came on this trip with my husband.  Not!

The museum closed at 5 o’clock so we ventured off to see what we could in our abbreviated time.  It was a really cool museum and the kids loved it.  They loved it so much that they didn’t want to leave.  It was just about closing time and the last exhibit we went to was a little tunnel with flags that the kids could run through.  They got in there and they wouldn’t come out. They were giggling and running through there like a pack of wild animals.  It got to the point that I needed to go in to get them.  Now, I am short, but not as short as a child, and not realizing how low the ceiling of the tunnel was I cracked my head so hard I saw stars.  Great!  I needed to get the kids out of there, find my way back to the metro station, and avoid some gun wielding crazy man…all with a possible concussion.

I finally retrieved my kids and ventured to the exit of the museum.  I was chatting with one of the workers there and she heard about some of my day and took pity on me and hailed a cab for us.  We got in the cab and he literally drove down the street to the metro station.  We were close…it’s just that no one I asked for directions knew that (sigh). Now I don’t know if you’ve ever been at the metro in DC at rush hour, but it was beyond crowded.  I had each kid by the hand as we waited for our train.  The trains were rushing by us so fast that it was blowing us around…I was literally afraid one of the kids would blow away!  Finally our train arrived.  It was so crowded that there weren’t any seats available..standing room only.  A man took pity on us and offered his seat.  I gratefully took it and put one kid on each knee.  I was asking if they were tired because I certainly was and they both chimed in “no we aren’t tired.”  I noticed I was getting some looks, but I figured it was because I had two small children on the train in the middle of rush hour.  Who in their right mind would do that?  But when the train went underground and I caught my reflection in the window I was quite startled.  You see, in the morning I knew it was going to be a really hot day so when I styled my hair I made sure I used lots of hairspray to keep it in place.  After sweating for 5 hours walking through the hot streets of DC, carrying two hefty kids, and then spending the remaining 3 hours in a hot museum…plus the extreme wind from the trains…I literally looked like I had some kind of freakish mohawk.  My hair was standing on end from all the wind and hairspray.  The perfect end to my less than perfect day.  I looked like a crazy woman.

I have to say…it was one of the most memorable weeks of my life.  I can honestly say that I have not been back to DC since.  When the kids were older and had field trips there, I made Mike go (smile).  And he went….because he loves me and he loves our kids…and love matters (smile).

BTW:  I had extra pull-ups with me so my little one didn’t need to go through the whole day with a naked butt (smile).