What a day.
What a week.
Nothing bad. Nothing cancer-related. Just life.
The kids' first week back to school. Things getting crazy at work. And to top it all off, this weekend is The Fair. Every year, a neighboring town holds a fall agricultural fair, with prizes for best home-grown veggies, baked goods, crafts, etc. Last year, I won a blue ribbon for my plum tomatoes (my kids are trained to refer to me as "an award-winning gardener"). This year, despite a horrible growing season, I entered some more tomatoes, some cucumbers, an eggplant, and my bread-and-butter pickles. And since I didn't get home from work until after 8 last night, I was too tired to bake, so I was up at 4:30 this morning to make mocha cupcakes with chocolate ganache frosting so I could turn them in before judging this morning.
More importantly, my kids have entered several contests themselves. I don't much care if I win anything, but I really, really want them to do well.
Is there some connection between all of this and cancer? I always have some kind of connection, after all.
Well, one connection is the one I say a lot -- As crazy and hectic and exhausting as life can be, I'm happy to be busy. I'm healthy, I have a good job that I like, and I'm able to do things for my kids.
But, as I discussed last year when I wrote about this fair, the experience makes me focus on my kids. There's something about entering a cupcake decorating contest, or a photography contest, or something else that forces you to put yourself out there, to be judged and compared. It's not always pleasant. It's great when you get a ribbon, certainly, but not so great when you don't. Or when you don't get the one you expected. Or when your dad gets a first place for his tomatoes, and your sculpture gets a third.
What I hope that experience teaches my kids is that you can't say "Forget it!" and not bother anymore. What I hope is that my kids will -- as my daughter did -- vow to make it better next year. $200 or so worth of Sculpey clay, and hours of sculpting, and she's back in it this year. That's exactly what I wanted to happen.
This morning, I read a story about this year's Dancing with the Stars. Valerie Harper, TV's Rhoda, is a contestant this season. Just weeks ago, there were stories in the news about her having terminal brain cancer. She's doing much better, and she decided to take a chance, at 74 years old, on dancing on TV. She credits the song "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack for giving her the courage to go for it.
Whenever I hear that song on the radio, and I'm in the car with my daughter, I turn it up and I tell her to listen carefully. When she has the choice to sit it out or dance, I want her to dance.
Or to make and decorate a cake that looks just like a giant Hershey bar, and let it (and herself) be judged.
And to smile, whatever happens.
(And not just because, when it's over, she gets to eat that cake.....)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
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