My mom still goes overboard for Christmas. Every year, she says it's the last time she is going to do it and then the next year, she does it again. And she still writes "Love, Santa" on all the gifts. And we still all spend the night at "home" and wake each other up early to open presents. And I still feel the magic.
As I start to imagine a family of my own (soon, soon I hope!) I spend a lot of time wondering what it was that makes me feel so happy and safe at home. I want to recreate it for my kids. I want my 27 year-old daughter and her 31 year-old husband to come over on Christmas Eve and wait for Santa. I want my childhood, for my children.
I want a warm, cozy home.
I want a fat, lovely baby.
Come on 2009, bring it on.
And Coralie. And Lindsay and Jacci. And Grandma. And so many more people who seem so far away.
I wish the world was not quite as large. I want to be able to fold it in half and touch Ohio. Switzerland. I want to put it in my pocket and know they are all safe and close to me.
Whenever I tell people that I teach high school, I get the same reaction: "How do you deal with them?"
Them.
It's not enough to tell people that they are actually very sweet. They don't quite remember how funny and bright and inspiring teenagers can be. It's mostly the awkwardness we remember. The "acting cool" phase. The insecurities. The acne. The pain.
But today I witnessed something absolutely remarkable.
I am one of the advisors for the school's GSA: Gay-Straight Alliance. It is a nationally recognized club whose purpose is to ensure human rights on campus for every student. The goal is to try and stop discrimination and to promote acceptance and tolerance in the community. It's a good goal. It's a good club.
Today was our first day of sign-ups. We have been meeting for weeks to write a club constitution, to get it approved, and to elect leaders. We all knew that this club may not be well received. Escondido is a very conservative city and the original GSA was sabotaged a few years ago by the Christian Club when they crashed every meeting to "pray away the gay." Sadly for the Christian Club, prayer wasn't enough and we still have gay students on campus. Who knew? SO, it's safe to say that we didn't know what to expect today.
We set a big table up on the "greentop" which is where are the kids hang out and eat lunch. I must admit, I was a little nervous when two gay girls rolled out a huge sign covered in rainbows asking people to join. Would kids make fun of them? What if no one signed up? What would I say if someone did say something? I wanted to protect these kids so much.
My stomach dropped when a group of White girls (looked like cheerleaders to me) approached the table. "What is GSA?" they asked. One of the ladies flipped her hair. Our girls explained and they signed up. Phew. Two Asian girls were watching our table out of the corner of their eyes. They were whispering and exchanging looks. Crap. They walked over and signed up. Within a few minutes there was a line.
A line of Whites and Blacks, Asians and Mexicans, girls and boys. Freshman, Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors. 63 signed up on our first day. I listened carefully to the conversations going on around the table. I was anticipating something horrible. Waiting for a joke - for someone to be teased. It never happened. Instead, two boys who I happen to know are popular walked away saying, "That club seems cool."
Very, very cool.
On Monday, during third period, I started getting a shooting pain through my chest. It was a sharp, "jack rabbit" sort of feeling that was intense but short lived. No big deal. The day went on but the pain didn't stop. I picked up Meghan from school and we drove to her parent's house for a relaxing evening of quilting and these amazing apple cider drinks with ice cream (highly recommend them). I felt kind of bad because I couldn't stop complaining about my chest. Mom Dease kept asking if I needed to lay down, if a tums would help, what she could do. I was fine, I explained. And I was. It was probably indigestion. Who wants to go to the doctor and be told they have gas? Certainly not me.
I came home and told Dan about the pain and he immediately became worried and called one of his best friends who is a doctor (since I refused to go to urgent care). After going back and forth, describing my symptoms and answering questions, Dr. Paul determined that I probably pulled a muscle. Take it easy, relax. Not much I could do. Just what I wanted to hear.
But yesterday, my arm started to feel numb. Now, I'm no medical expert but chest pains plus a numb arm = Didn't sound so good. But of course the doctor's office was closed already and urgent care sounded like a long, horrible nightmare. Nah. If I made it through two days, I knew another night wouldn't hurt.
So I woke up this morning and the chest pain hadn't gone away and I still couldn't feel my arm. Probably time to call the doctor. I went into work, waited until the doctor opened at 8:30 and called to make an appointment. The doctor's recommendation: Urgent Care. Man!
I went to tell the secretary that the doctor recommends that I go into urgent care and within seconds she is running to the school nurse and calling out for the attention of every assistant principal in sight. Before I know it, I am surrounded by the school's administration and they are treated me like I am about to die. "I'm fine," I explain. "Seriously."
"Seriously," she answers. "You need to have your husband come pick you up and drive you. "Seriously."
Seriously?
And Dan rushes over (he told me I should have gone!) and speeds to urgent care. Oh man, what is going on?
Apparently chest pains and a numb left arm are code for "this chick is about to die" because as soon as I told her my symptoms she yells what I have just said and I am rushed into the back. Ain't this some service?
I was immediately given oxygen - I said I can breathe just fine - but no one is listening. They stick about a million stickers to my legs and my chest and my hips and my arms and the EKG begins. They are making sure I am not having a heart attack. I am not having a heart attack.
Four hours and an EKG, blood test, urine test, and seven x-rays later, the verdict: I have neck spasms and tennis elbow. The neck spasms are causing pain through my chest and my arm is numb because I somehow managed to be suffering the injuries of a sport I have never played.
"Seriously?" I asked.
Seriously.
I wasn't 21 yet when I first met Dan. The bar scene was foreign and I could't wait to join my friends and be able to get dressed up and go out. To dance and drink until the infamous "last call" announcement. I counted down starting at my 20th birthday. It was a long, long year.
Fast forward to 27. I cannot even remember the last time we went "out." We might have some friends over (thank you Meghan and Dustin) for a few glasses of wine but that's as far as it goes. In fact, that's a pretty crazy night for us. So, I was excited about Dan's holiday party, but also a little reluctant. Could I stay up past 9:00pm without yawning and yearning for bed? I was determined to.
I was so determined that I drank three cups of coffee before we left. Bad idea. I hadn't eaten yet and since we had to wait in an hour of traffic before I could get anything in my stomach, I was shaking and fighting back waves of nausea before we arrived. But - when we got there - I felt better already. We pulled up to the beautiful, brand new Hilton hotel downtown. As we walked toward the ballroom, little cocktail tables were set up around a bright Christmas tree and holiday music was playing gently. It felt like Christmas.
As we walked into the ballroom, we were instantly greeted by Dan's coworkers and their wives. We were given glasses of wine and the fun began. Boy, did it begin.
We ended up taking a cab to several different bars downtown and dancing until the "get the hell out of here" announcement was made. While dancing with Dan, I was reminded of six years before when this sort of experience was ordinary. Dancing, drinking, feeling invisible and beautiful. Did I miss it?
And the truth is, I am so much happier than I was during that time, that I cannot even think about missing it. Here I was, dancing with my husband who I love more than I thought I could ever love, and we are so incredibly happy. And we both have jobs that we love and friends that we adore. We are buying a home that we will one day raise our children in and that is close to my family. It's strange, but in the midst of music and chaos, I was able to appreciate Dan more than ever.
We took a cab back our hotel room. Neither one of us was feeling very well, let alone invisble. Sleep overtook us.
In the morning, we both swore that we would never drink again. We both felt older than we ever have. This night out, that once was so commonplace, had completely destroyed us. And I looked over at my husband, whose red eyes and hunched over body looked quite different than it did a few years ago after a night out. I looked at my face in the mirror, mascara spread across my cheeks and wondered when things changed so much. And I laughed. And Dan laughed and I curled up in his arms and told him I wanted to go home. Things have changed and I couldn't be happier. I am so very happy.
