Yesterday, I put on my Warrior Mother hat, and did some research on Dyscalculia (pronounced “dis-cal-cool-ee-a”, or any old way you want, because almost no one has it, so there aren’t experts to correct your error). Strike that: there are experts who could correct you, but they only speak French. Maybe I shall call and ask for advice, using my rusty, high school French:
Me: Bonjour.
Expert (speaking in French): How may I help you?
Me: L’eglise es la gauche de la rue? (The church is on the left side of the street?)
Expert: Pardon?
Me: Je suis Lori. Ma dau…um…Mon daugh-tere (not a word) no ablo…MATH.
Expert: Pardon?
Me: The church is on the left side of the street. Sorry…that’s the only thing I can remember from French class. WAIT! A midi ou a minuit, il y a tou ce que vou voulais, aux la Champs Élysée! YES! A midday or at midnight, there is anything that you could want on the main road that runs through Paris! CHECK IT! I totally ACED French.
Expert: [Hanging up phone, cursing under his breath that Americans are idiots. And we are…just a little bit guys, you have to admit it.]
Greg sent me a funny picture of how he sees me when I’m trying to be “Sara’s Mom”. Dude! I’m awesome! As a kid who regularly flunked gym class, this photo-shopped image is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sports team photo. If I ever do figure out how to throw that ball into the basket, I’m going to do it as Xena. I’ll bet Xena didn’t flunk her basketball unit in the 7th grade and had to do a report on Babe Ruth in order to pass gym class. Babe Ruth was a drunk. MAN! Another point for the American Education System! I’ll take French Folk Songs and Shakespearean Flawed Sports Heroes for $1000, Alex.
So today, I’m giving a shout out to Warrior Mothers everywhere. You know you who are: Pittsburgh Children’s Hospital just lost your son’s lab results. And an even bigger shout out because you’re coordinating care at not one, but TWO pediatric hospitals. Shout out to the Mom who spent today on the phone with the insurance company, and a double shout-out to the Mom who got onto Seattle Children’s waiting list when Autism was ruled out. Suspecting something was missed, your Momma Warrior gut braved out a second opinion from the best and the brightest in the field. You were right. The Mother Warrior often hopes to be wrong, but rarely is. Shout out to the Mom doing pick up at the Developmental Preschool this morning, while juggling a phone call from a teacher because your “healthy” kid is acting up in class in order to get attention. If you are trying to figure out a dinner plan around a late afternoon Occupational Therapy appointment…I feel ya’. IEP meeting coming up? High-fives! You can DO this! You held your breath while hitting the “confirm” button on another summer at Juvenile Diabetic Sleepover Camp. You just signed up for the Valentines Party, for the 5th year in a row, so you could make sure with your own eyes that nothing has peanuts in it. In fact, you haven’t missed a class party…ever. When food could kill your child, the Warrior-mode never turns off.
Yes, I see you. I probably see you differently than you see yourself. You see yourself as a rolling circus of bags and snacks in yet another waiting room. I see Xena, the Warrior Momma, (graciously) knocking down walls and (lovingly) toppling through challenges. I see women I’m proud to call friends. And when I tell my friends I’m going to try a Math program developed in France to stimulate the growth of Sara’s intraparietal sulcus, my friends won’t laugh. I know exactly what they’ll say: “Good idea. Let me know if that works. Send me the link. How are Sara’s migraines? Did you read that link I sent? I hope it helped. Did the switch to stimulants go OK? Let’s get some coffee and swap ideas, but first, give me a hug.”
You see me too, and that has made all the difference. I’m so blessed to have you witness my journey, and Godspeed, my oh-so-brave-and-awesome friends. Godspeed.