It just isn't your talent

How many of us as moms have to have that conversation with our kiddos that they just aren't up to par in that ONE area. That they happen to have their Daddy's abilities there. (yeah, I'm being specific here)

I saw the pic below on FB the other day and it brought all this in mind..

We laugh because, well it is funny, but we also have to think about it when it comes to our own kids. Teaching them to be realistic is so very important as they get older.

I showed the pic to my middle child, and he said it wasn't funny. He is my asthmatic. Oops. I wasn't actually pointing it out to him as it being him. I just really thought it was funny. Then I got to thinking about what I fail at and how I might show my children that I handle that. I'm horrible about wearing my emotions on my sleeve. If I'm mad at you, you generally know it. I don't tend to sugar coat it. If I'm sad, well, I cry a lot. If I need attention, I pout. I am a walking Inside Out commercial to be honest!

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how my hubby and I handle our children when they fail. Are we the "Great job!" even if they sucked? Are we the "you'll get it next time" knowing they really suck? Then I realized, that we are pretty straight forward, and I wonder if that is the best thing.

I think in some moments it is, but in others we have to restrain from saying exactly how we feel. We aren't necessarily trying to sugar coat it (I must need sugar), but we are trying to soften the blow of reality to maintain a sense of self-esteen. For example, the oldest.. GRRRR That kid drives me crazy. When he gets overwhelmed he gets very emotional.I have NO CLUE who he gets that from!  But the other day, he was fretting about choreography that he feels is a problem for him in show choir. He has a performance and was frustrated. He told a little fib about it trying to get out of the performance only for his most awesomest (yeah, still making up words) choir director to call him out on it. We were straight forward. There was an awkward teenager moment when he said (more like a yell) he didn't want to look like a "retarded potato" (still trying to figure out what the crap that means!), but we were firm with him that he is failing at problem solving with this situation. We were straight forward, and it turned out okay in the end as we helped him set up a couple of practice moments and such. Still working out some details on the science project that was actually the straw that broke the camel's back on this one, but it is a process.

Now, there are three of them, so I am sure I have scarred one of them at one time or another being so honest. Today, I got a chance to have an eye opening talk with O. We are at the point when we have to decide band, choir, or orchestra. I love that kid, but he HATES going to his brother's concerts and HATES music class and has his father's ability to carry a tune. It just skipped him. NOW, give him the rhythm and he can tap it out like none other, but please do not ask him to sing it. I'm not saying he wouldn't rock out percussion, but the idea of the concert seems to hold him back. There are just certain things that drives us. We have debated how to handle if he takes those three classes because it is rather prevalent and stressed for 6th and  up at our school district. The kid has a dance talent and is pretty stretched with time involved in that as it is, but as smart as he is, we struggle with the idea of him having a study hall (which is what the alternative is for the 6th graders). So, with the end of the school year approaching, I decided to ask him what he wants to do. He finally admitted that if he was realistic about it (seriously his words, so someone is listening to me) he isn't the best musician that exists nor would he want to stick with it for long because of the time commitment the older he gets. But we still have the dilemma of the morning study hall. He heard me mention that I wished the art teacher would be willing to do an independent study type of thing for him a couple days of week as if he were in band during that time, and asked me if I had talked to the art teacher yet. Guess I am going to send an email today. This is a result of us being realistic. Instead of being a frustrated, retarded potato (still trying to stop picturing that), he is being a problem solver.

The being realistic thing seems to work with that one at least. Let's hope it encourages all of them to just be problem solvers and to be willing to take a leap of faith sometime and ask for something that may never have been done.
It isn't always going to work, but I think following our heart over a situation makes us better parents.

Now to go send an email to an art teacher. Let's get real around here!

Something is wrong with your bone marrow....

"There's something wrong with your bone marrow."

Okay, wait, what?! The words stung worse than any bite I had ever had. What does this mean? You're sending me to a what? That sounds serious. It was just a shot put!!!

The craziest thoughts go through your head when you are faced with an uncertainty. You become frustrated, borderline irrational (or maybe completely). The rain just never seems to stop. Two weeks ago today, that was me, sitting in the orthopedic specialist's office after hearing him speak those words. Not only did I have a slight tear in my rotator cuff, but something is wrong with my bone marrow.

Something is wrong with my bone marrow.

So many thoughts. He said he was sending me to an orthopedic oncologist. "Shit, that sounds expensive." He said he couldn't give me further information other than what the radiologist had read. "Seriously, what did I pay you for?" He said that it could be nothing, but he wanted to be safe. "Thank you? What does that even mean!!"

Something is wrong with my bone marrow.

I went and sat in the car crying, not even sure what to think. I called my husband who spoke logic. I called my best friend who comforted me. I didn't want to tell anyone. What would I tell them anyhow! I could do nothing but wait.

Waiting is hard. I'm not a patient person when I want answers. I want to know what is going on. I want to be educated. I WILL NOT Google this! I WILL NOT listen to people's opinions! I will talk with friends and feel the support. I will find out who I try to talk to that doesn't have time for me. Quite surprising. I will find that a shoulder injury is just as invisible as having cancer. Oh, wait, but what if I do....

I avoid everything. I don't want to talk to anyone. I want them to pray for me, but I don't want sympathy. Oh seriously, that's how you respond. Don't feel sorry for me! Just pray for healing or something! I don't go to church that first week. I know I am going to have to go, but I'm not ready to feel God talking to me in public. Just not yet. I walk through life in a fog - a fog of pain and uncertainty.

The appointment is set. I anticipate it coming up, but at this point, I am just keeping myself so busy with track meets, and school work, and teaching work, and dance competitions. And, don't let me stop or I will think too hard. It's Mother's Day; I have to pretend to care. All I want to do is stay in bed and not feel anything. I've worked myself into a tizzy over this whole nonsense. What if it really is no big deal, a very expensive no big deal, but what if it is.

I went to church for Mother's Day. It happened to be the one day the most passionate worship and prayerer (Making up my own words, don't judge!) happens to come over to our side of the church and try to shake my hand. Push through the pain and let him shake it? I can't do it. I offer him my left hand to which he asks what is wrong. I just tell him I have a shoulder issue. A shoulder issue?! Kim, what the crap! How vague can you get. He asks if he can pray for me, and I pause. I PAUSED!! WHAT THE WHAT?! That is not me. Why would I pause?! Of course he can pray for me. When we prayed, he laid his hand on the shoulder that hurt. I could feel the heat of his hand. I could feel the power in his prayer. I felt at peace for the first time in two weeks. Thank you God for sending him to me. Thank you for giving me that reassurance that I needed- whatever the new, expensive doctor said. He asked me if it felt better. It didn't, but I did. How do I say that? I don't. I just say, no.

In a time of crisis, reassurance means everything. Prayer means everything. Family means everything. Friends mean everything. Everything MEANS EVERYTHING!

There's something wrong with your bone marrow.

But it's not cancer. Those were the words I got to hear today. At first I was overjoyed with the fact that it wasn't something that could alter the future of my family and my babies lives forever, but then I had to digest exactly what it really means. It isn't cancer, but it is edema of the bone marrow. What is that? Well, this doctor took some time to show me the MRI and show me what brought up that red flag. My bone is white. HAHAHA< I know that was my first funny in this drab and depressing post. In an MRI, your bone is black, but in mine, it showed up with white specks. It isn't very dense. Now for the educational part of this post. Basically bone marrow edema is defined as excess fluid in the bone marrow that builds up causing swelling. The injury caused my body to yell at me. The treatment is to reduce the swelling, to ease the rotator cuff tear through physical therapy, and hopefully to avoid surgery.

So what comes next? Well there is is something wrong with my bone marrow. There is no denying that. It is currently swollen. There is no cure for bone marrow edema. The treatment is to actually treat what caused it in the first place - the tear. PT will be hard, so if you see me out, please do not touch my right shoulder. It already hurts, and the last week with only ONE day of PT and at home exercises has been worse pain than I have felt ever (and I truly have a large pain tolerance). I ask for prayers for me in my pain and patience for forward movement. I ask for prayers to avoid surgery. I ask for prayers for my family who has to put up with my moodiness that comes with all of this.

But I mostly want to sing praises for MY GOD who has held my hand through all of this. Who brought me reassurance yesterday when I couldn't see the son shining through. Who is the healer of all things and who, more than anything, has got this! I don't seem to be able to do things halfway. This is the most expensive shot put I will ever purchase, but I learned a lesson over all of this. My biggest lesson has been to love and trust God because He has the power over everything. Someone remind me of this in a few weeks when I am pushing through the pain. This isn't the end.

This is only the beginning because something is wrong with my bone marrow.