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Day 76: The Great Cow Legend

6/20/2015

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Every day our elementary school bus route took us through the green pastured hills of Kula, dropping off kids at their various stops. Along one bumpy, unpaved dirt road, lived the famous, yet elusive 5-legged cow. This mutant cow was legendary, and every afternoon from the bus we all craned our necks in hopes that we’d catch sight of it. I had never seen it before, so I was particularly set on seeing this creature. 

Finally, one day on the bus, someone shouted, “There it is! There’s the 5-legged cow!” Sure enough, there it was near the barbed wire fence. It was an aged, skinny thing that looked like it had known better days. Like a regular cow, it was standing on four legs. And hanging right above one of its hind legs,  dangling about halfway to the ground, was an odd, wrinkled growth of skin and flesh, the fifth leg. We all shrieked in unison, “Ew! Gross!” Finally, the bus driver had to shut down the mayhem with a thunderous, “Be quiet!” 

As the bus continued its drive, we all had the collective satisfaction of seeing the five-legged cow. It was a marvelous day.

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Day 75: The Scam

6/19/2015

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“I can pretend to be my mom,” my friend Brianna suggested.

We were trying to figure out a way to get my parents to allow me to spend the night at her house over the weekend. It was early summer after high school graduation, and our group of friends was antsy to live it up as much as we could before many of us dispersed for college. Brianna’s parents were away, and her house was going to be the setting for a legendary party. But me being there depended on getting my parents permission. However, it didn’t seem likely that they would agree to me spending the night without checking with Brianna’s mom. To circumvent any parents actually knowing what we were up to, Brianna had the brilliant idea to impersonate her mother on the phone.

She practiced a few times, putting our high school drama skills to use. Later that evening, I laid the groundwork. “Can I stay over at Brianna’s house? Her mom will be there. If you want, you can talk to her over the phone.” My mom thought this was a wise idea, and so I gave her Brianna’s phone number. When my mom called, Brianna was ready and answered the phone.

“Hi, this is Brianna’s mom,” said Brianna in her adult voice. “Yes, I’ll be here with the girls. We’d love to have Larissa over!” They chatted for a few minutes. After the conversation, my mom felt confident enough to let me spend the night.

Just like that, we got away with our brilliant scam.
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Day 74: Mirror On the Wall

6/18/2015

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I was standing in front of the mirror, and it dawned on me that I was unhappy with my body. The shirt I was pulling over my arms was a size larger than what I needed, purposefully used to hide my midsection. I was 25, recently married, and despite feeling generally self-confident, I felt ashamed of my body.

It had been ages since I had stepped on a scale, mostly because I was afraid of facing the truth of my weight. It wasn’t even really the number on the scale that I was avoiding. What I was really trying to escape was the story that my weight reflected. For years, I had neglected caring for my body. Since high school, I had gradually put on unwanted weight. My college years were spent socially eating and late night all-you-can-eat meals in the dining hall. Everyone stress ate through midterms and finals. During my junior and senior years, I was depressed and desperately clinging to an emotionally destructive relationship with a guy. More unhealthy habits with food, and almost zero physical activity.

As I looked at my reflection, I saw a body that I wanted to love. I didn’t just want to lose weight. I wanted to treat my body with the kindness and care that it deserved. So I decided to make some changes.
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Day 73: The Talk

6/17/2015

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When my brothers and I were kids, we generally didn't get spanked. Instead, if one of us made a bad choice, my parents would have us sit at the dining room table for "The Talk." 

The Talk would consist of my Dad asking us questions - what did you do? Why did you do it? If we didn't have a thorough explanation, Dad would keep us there in the chair until we did. It was like a silent face-off, with my patient and persistent dad winning every time. Then the discussion would move to what the appropriate consequence should be. Maybe we'd get grounded from hanging out with friends, maybe we'd get television time revoked. The Talk could last up to an hour or more, making it seem more painful than the prospect of being spanked. 

Now that we're adults, my brothers and I all agree that The Talk was a very effective and unpleasant form of punishment.
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Day 72: The String Cheese Incident

6/16/2015

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For a short time, I was beginning to think that Aaron had magically skipped the stage known as "the Terrible Twos" (or as my mother, an expert in early childhood development, calls it, "the Terrific Twos." Is that supposed to be sarcastic, Mom?). Around his second birthday, he was a delightfully easy-going child, communicating with him was a breeze, and I was patting myself on the back for being Super Mom. And then age 2 1/2 came along, and flattened us like a steamroller. 

We were suddenly drop-kicked into the frightening, mind-boggling world of the Toddler Stage. Suddenly, he had a roller coaster of emotions in any given moment. He demanded, he protested, he threw tantrums. It was a maddening experiencing to bounce back and forth from adorable sweet kid to Capital C Crazy child.

One morning my son asked for some string cheese for breakfast. First of all, I'm not sure why he thought string cheese would make a good early morning meal, but that's apparently how a two-year-old's mind works. I tore open the plastic wrapper of the string cheese, and handed it to Aaron.

He suddenly went berserk. He stomped his feet, made a scrunched-up angry face, and cried, "Aaron peel!"

I responded, "Oh, sorry, I already peeled it."

"Aaron peel! Aaron peel!" He threw himself onto the kitchen floor, and kicked his legs wildly into the air.

I tried to reason with him (as if rationale and logic are ever effective with toddlers). "Okay, well you can peel your string cheese next time. This one is already open, so just go ahead and eat it." He continued to scream and cry, and I was certain that our neighbors thought I was butchering a live pig. I enthusiastically suggested that we "fix" the wrapper, "Here, let's pinch it back together and you can pretend to peel it." I attempted to ignore his meltdown. 

"Aaron peeeeeeeel!" His face was now red and blotchy. My ears hurt from the shrill banshee shrieks, and I was beginning to wonder where this writhing alien was teleported from. Was it really only 7:30 in the morning?

We were at a parent-child stand-off, with only one person destined to be the victor. After several moments of considering all my options, I finally gave in. I simply didn't have the energy to take my child to the emergency room if he threw himself into the nearby refrigerator. "Okay, fine, Mommy will get you a new unpeeled string cheese. I'll eat the opened one." That's what parents get to eat for their meals - food that their kid rejected. I gave him a brand-spanking-new string cheese.

For several minutes, our home was quiet and peaceful. Aaron worked at his string cheese, trying to open the wrapper. His chubby toddler fingers, however, made this task a losing battle. After a moment of struggling, he turned to me, "Mommy help." "You want me to help you open it?" I asked. He nodded. I looked at him intently, "Are you sure you want my help?" Again, he nodded yes. So I took String Cheese Number 2, and peel it open.

Aaron started screaming hysterically, and hurls his body onto the ground again. "AARON PEEL!" AARON PEEL!"

I stared at my son, reminded myself that it would probably be wrong to throw string cheese at a child's face, and dug really deep down for some maternal love to get me through another day.
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