Take 8 – It’s My Birthday

It’s my Birthday and this year I got just what I wanted! There I stood in the crowded room admiring its shiny white paint with silver and black trim. The design was so sleek, I was surprised it could hold so much. Seemed as though half of Rochester was out, searching for it. Truth be told, star-studded advertisements really work. As I waited patiently for my turn, I took note of the smiles and frowns of the customers before me. This was a clear indication that their numbers were good or not so good. None of us was lucky enough to get it free from Oprah. In sheer delight that I wasn’t getting a lemon this time, I was almost too afraid to climb on. I was told this baby could go from 0-200 in two seconds. God forbid that should happen, somebody please stop me.

Bet you thought it was a car. The only thing I wanted for my 43rd birthday was a scale to register 155 pounds. The aforementioned scenario was a Weight Watchers weigh-in. For those of you keeping track, that’s 80 pounds off. Never thought I would be rocking a size six like this!

If your birthday wish is a number on the scale, a smaller dress size, to fit into the Superman Roller Coaster seat, or better health and wellness, consider joining the Y. The YMCA of Greater Rochester has been voted a leader in health and fitness programs, and has helped hundreds – if not thousands – of people just like me reach their wellness goals.

Ladies, Gents and Janet Jackson Wannabes, a wish is just a wish without action. So, what are you going to do? BTW, I’m having cake, ice cream and Zumba!

Y Preschool is Where Our Fragile Flower Grows

Lisa Hutchurson with 3 ½-year-old daughter, Maya, at the Thanksgiving play put on by Maya’s Bay View Preschool Class.

Well, it figures. There, in the midst of all the other kids in the Chuck E. Cheese overhead play tunnel, laughing, yelling, crawling – playing – Maya had abandoned all hope and was crying.

At least that’s what I was pretty sure she was doing. She’d appeared briefly in the tunnel’s see-through plastic window (we’d had an agreement — all was well if she could see me through the window). But then her face changed. She pointed and motioned wildly. Then her shadow slunk off about a foot.

I knew we had just jumped to Def Con 1 – or was it 5? (I never remember which one is “really bad” in the movie War Games). But anyway, it seemed like several minutes passed. I readied myself for another Mommy Rescue.

Then her little panic-stricken face appeared. An angelic boy in a striped shirt had led her to the end of the tunnel to climb down. Clutching Naked Baby (this week’s favorite doll), Maya quickly descended from ledge to ledge.

It’s hard to be three. I know – Maya tells me.

And it IS hard. So many rules to learn – like “generally, people wear pants outside the house,” and “if there are no paper towels in the restroom, we don’t just dry our hands on a stranger,” and “picking the kitty up by the head is not, technically, considered ‘loving the kitty.’”

The one thing that HAS been easy for our little fragile flower, surprisingly enough, has been the Four Seasons preschool program at the Bay View Y. After responding to other socialization attempts (that required me leaving her) mostly with hyperventilating and projectile vomiting, Maya has settled quite nicely into preschool at the Y. Maybe it’s because she got to meet many of her classmates before in other Bay View Y programs that let me ease her into independence with gradual steps.

Bay View’s learn-to-swim class, for instance, allowed her to mingle other children while still staying with Mommy. Then came Tumble Bugs, an active play program where her awesome teacher, Miss Kathy, allowed me to hide behind a wall of play mats, peeking around the corner whenever Maya needed reassurance. Or perhaps it’s because there are always at least three or four teachers for her preschool class’s 17 children. (As an only child, Maya always feels most comfortable with adults. It took two months for me to realize that the “friends” she kept talking about were actually her teachers.)

But probably, it’s just that sense of family at the Y – with the same, loving faces day in and day out. Miss Kathy (with her decades worth of preschool teaching experience, sense of humor and “love” tattoo) is right next door with the 2-year-olds. Avery’s there from her swimming class, and so is Danny from Tumble Bugs. And her beloved new teachers, Miss Jeannie, Michelle, Sarah and Debbie, have become recurring characters in her bedtime stories.

Feeling comfortable with this family has allowed Maya to branch out and befriend her peers. Her first real friend, Lia, is coming over for another playdate today. This morning, even though Maya still clung to my leg, she then walked into class holding hands with Lia. (Actually, they each held one hand of Naked Baby, and all three went in together. But I didn’t care. I was half-giggling, half-crying.)

So my Maya is growing, slow and steady – maybe not as fast as other kids – but at a pace she can handle, surrounded by familiar faces. Are more play tunnel crises in our future? Uh … yeah. But in the meantime, we’ve found a place where our fragile flower can bloom.

Lisa Hutchurson

Theresa’s Take – Take Seven

I can’t figure out for the life of me why retailers put Valentine’s Day goodies out the day after Christmas.

NEWS FLASH: We single folks don’t need a 51-day notice that Valentine’s Day is coming!

We know exactly when the clock strikes February 14^th. We just secretly hope that February 15^th doesn’t arrive without having received a flower, card or a heart-shaped box filled with chocolates. Most of us have even memorized the lyrics to Tina Turner’s anti-love anthem:

What’s love got to do with it?

What’s love but a second hand emotion?

Who needs a HEART when a HEART can be broken?

Me, I need a heart. Yes, my heart has been broken a time or two. Most likely it will get broken again. I’ll shed a few tears or a river, and keep it moving. I’ve never been one to throw myself a pity party. This year I’m celebrating Valentine’s Day old school. Do you remember those boxed Valentine’s Day cards you begged your Momma to buy and gave to all your classmates and the teacher? Well, that’s what I’m going to do this year. I am sending out Valentine’s Day cards to my friends, family and foes. My friends and family need to hear three simple words from me. I want my foes to know, that I’m sorry for any pain that I may have caused, and I now extend the olive branch. Truth be told, I can’t even remember why we are mad at each other. This outpouring of affection was inspired by the “Jack of All Trades” at the Maplewood YMCA – Scott.

Last week, Scott gave me a tour of the newly-renovated Maplewood Y. The interior decorator has placed huge pictures of the neighborhood throughout the building.  These pictures are so life-like. Looking at them makes you feel as though you are in the neighborhood. Scott was nearly brought to tears when he showed me the very spot on the picture of the Maplewood Rose Garden, where he and his wife had taken their wedding pictures in 1976. He went on to tell me that she had lost her battle to cancer six years ago. Nevertheless, Scott still boldly wears his wedding ring. That my friends, is far more than a second hand emotion.

Ladies, Gents and Janet Jackson Wannabes, don’t let another day come and go without telling the folks in your circle, or on the perimeter, how much you love them.

This blog posting was written with permission from Scott to share his story.