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Tuesday, May 10, 2005

As a late Mother's Day present to myself, I'm going to mom-blog today. Thank you for your patience.

My 25-year-old daughter has been an avid participant in a woman's roller derby league since last October. Their season-ending tournament started Sunday night. Beth is a "jammer". The jammer attempts to score points by skating through a dense pack of skaters who are trying to block her passage. A few minutes into the game on Sunday, after a particularly aggressive block, she went flying into the audience, bounced off someone's sharp knee, did a full tuck somersault over their heads and landed in a crumpled and motionless heap. Her chest had contacted his knee, and her air was knocked out, which is a strange and frightening sensation. I wasn't far from her and got to her before the paramedics. I put my hands on her back and leaned down and whispered "It's mom." Even at 25, she relaxed. When she recovered, she came back to some stellar action in the second half.

Three of my nieces and nephews from California visited a month ago and went on a hike with my 16-year-old son. Yesterday my sister sent a copy of a school assignmnent that my 10-year-old niece had written about my son. Here it is, misspellings intact:

My cousin Hank taught me many things. One of the most important things he taught me was that when I was climing a very large and steep dirt mountain on all fours, or gettings cuts and bruises on my legs, to always be strong and not to think I can't do it. This advice made me feel confident in myself. Even though he is sixteen, I still believed him. Now I feel strong and happy. I might never concer my fear of hights but now at least I could get rid of my fear from other things, like cuts. But here's one thing I know for sure, If something is hard, I'll just be strong, and say that I can do it.
We all wonder what she meant by "even though he is sixteen, I still believed him."

My 18-year-old daughter is in New York City serving an internship on a year off between high school and college. Her most exciting news is that Constantine of American Idol is staying in her building. She wrote the following description of a weekend day to her grandmother, who sent it to me:

Yesterday I slept in late and then did some shopping near my hotel. I went into a shoe store and I asked the sales clerk what sizes they carried. The clerk said that they carried up to size eleven, so I asked her to bring me a pair of shoes. I sat down and she went to get the shoes from the back. She returned and said that there were no size elevens in the shoes that I wanted to try on, but would I like to try on a size nine and a half in another color? No, I wouldn't. Oh the trials and tribulations of having abnormally gigantic feet...

Today I had quite a productive day. I went to the Metropolitan Museum. It is absolutely huge. They have everything from ancient Roman art to Georgia O'Keeffe paintings. I really tired myself out. I walked and walked and looked and stopped and sat on as many benches as possible and walked some more and some more until I couldn't have cared less that I was in a room full of famous Van Gogh pieces, all I wanted to do was get out of the museum as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, in this case, as quickly as possible was not very quickly at all, due to my aching feet and legs. But I made it. I saw so many amazing and diverse pieces of art...it's hard to process it all right now. It's kind of a flurry in my head. I found one particular piece that I really liked. It was in the ancient Greece section. It was a sculpture called "wounded Amazon woman". The woman in the sculpture had been wounded (stabbed in the chest) and there was blood coming out of her side, but she showed no sign of pain or hesitation on her upward-looking face. She marched on, ever resilient, into battle!

For whatever reason, after I was done at the Met (for four hours I traversed the treacherous terrain), I decided to be a bit adventurous. I rode the subway done to SoHo. I actually got off at the station right next to where you, Jane, and I had walked after our brunch. I saw that interesting shop with all of the bathroom fixtures and furniture for sale on the street. I find it quite fascinating. Despite the fact that my legs were in a state of shock from all the walking that they endured at the Met, I walked around SoHo. I was afraid to go into most of the shops. One of them was called "Trust Fund Babies". It carried extrememly!!! expensive clothes for, well, trust fund babies. They're certainly the only ones that could afford the prices. Some of the other stores were the kind that are virtually empty except for about three racks of clothing that are arranged in some odd way. Not my kind of store. I thought that it was a good time to walk back home...unfortuantely, I had my sense of direction (I'm being generous with myself by even referring to whatever I have as a sense of direction) terribly confused. To make a veryyyy long story short, I ended up walking through China Town and down to the East River. Right under the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. My feet were really killing me. It was getting dark. I decided to forge onward, drawing my inspiration from the wounded Amazonian sculpture that had inspired me earlier in the day. Well not really. Most of my motivation came from the fact that everytime I picked up my feet it felt like I was dragging enormous cement blocks underneath me. Considering that I have those mighty size eleven feet, I suppose that's not much of an exaggeration. Luckily for me and my feet, I found a subway station.
I hadn't realized until I read this over that these three stories have resiliency as a common theme. I have great kids.

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