The Fall Season

For the first time ever, I had a dream that I was falling.  It was night, and I was driving my van with Eliah in the back.  I was downtown (not where I live), but somewhere I'd never been, that had the very high ramps to get on and off the interstate.  It was dark and I was lost.  I chose one of the ramps and started driving up.  It went higher than all the other ramps, then suddenly I could see that the ramp had a sharp turn ahead, almost a u-turn.  I slowed down as much as I could, and I eased around the corner.  But it didn't matter, the wheels glided over the edge and I could see the front of the van with nothing underneath.

The van started to fall over the edge, and I remember saying to myself, "There is nothing I can do now".  As it started to fall straight down in slow motion, I resolved to the fact that this was the end.  I thanked God for the wonderful life I have had and asked forgiveness for all the things I had done wrong. It felt like I fell for at least a mile. 

Because the van was straight up and down, I could not see where I was going or what was at the bottom.  I assumed it was concrete. All I could see was straight ahead of me,  It was scary, but I had made my peace.  I was just waiting for that moment of impact.  I kept thinking, "I wonder what it will feel like.  I wonder if I will feel pain or just die instantly"

Right before impact, the van turned upside down, and I could see that there was dark water beneath me.  Then I hit it with great force.  The van sunk under the water, and I looked around in the darkness.  I remember thinking, "I'm not dead.  Why am I not dead? Why am I not even hurt?".  This part is silly, but I remembered an episode of Mythbusters about not panicking when you are in a car underwater, and I followed the rules as best I could to get out. 

I swam to shore, but I don't remember getting Eliah out.  He was on shore with me though when the medics were all around. He didn't look to be hurt or bruised, but he was never conscious.  I just kept saying, "He has Hemophilia, I have to give him his shot or he'll die."  Then someone gave me some half-assed supplies, and I ended up breaking off the needle in Eliah's port and not being able to finish.  I felt like I was panicking and doing everything I could possibly do, as fast as possible, but still failing. 

That was it.  I didn't wake up, but the dream ended there.  I know it was a metaphor for what's going on in my life right now.  I'm looking forward to going back to the flying dreams. :)

Get Busy Livin' or Get Busy Dyin'....

....and that's what I'm doing.

I find it interesting that over the course of the past four years....not so coincidentally as long as my son has been around.... I have been on a roller coaster of emotions so extreme that something like skydiving could not compare.  If you follow my son's blog, eliahjames.blogspot.com, you know that he has come close to death several times over the past four years of his life.  I can now say, with complete certainty, skydiving is easier than being a parent to Eliah; and not just a little easier, a LOT easier. 

I have always wanted to go skydiving.  In fact, I wanted to be an aerial artist and do the formations for shows.  When I was 18, I decided to do it.  My parents told me I could not go, but I was determined to do it anyway.   My friend, Emily and I, went to the skydive center, she as my photographer.  I paid the $180 and did all my training for a tandem jump at 10,000ft.  But the wind was against me that day, and just as we were about to head up in the plane, they canceled and sent me home.  I never had a chance to go back after that, but I always dreamed of one day flying through the clouds with a parachute on my back.

Since Christmas, I have hiked the mountains in North Carolina (in small amounts, since I'm completely out of shape. hehehe), zip-lined in the tree tops of Seneca National Forest, and this past weekend, I finally got my chance to skydive.  

I fully expected to be afraid, nervous, sick to my stomach, and possibly even back out.  When we saw the first jumpers gliding to the ground with their parachutes, I felt excitement .   When I watched the video explaining that I may die while jumping, I only felt anticipation.  When I was in the plane, looking at the ground getting further and further away, I only felt happiness.  And when I was leaning out of the open door of the plane, 14,000ft above the Earth, I only felt peace.   

Some people say that skydiving is a life-changing experience, and I can understand that completely.  It was completely AMAZING to glide to Earth with a parachute, to see the world with an airplane view and be able to reach out and touch the clouds.  But where was the RUSH these adrenaline junkies crave?  I expected to be a changed person.

I expected.....more.

I thought my Thrill-o-meter was busted.  Was it??

I thought and thought, then it hit me, I've had the big adrenaline rush a hundred times...with Eliah.  Nothing will get your heart racing faster than your child turning blue.  Nothing will make you as sick to your stomach as seeing your child lying in a hospital with someone pumping air into their lungs.  I've held my breath, my legs have shaken, and I've been physically weak from nerves over Eliah.  

He has trained me to handle stress. I could skydive with ease because he conditioned me.  I could sit back and enjoy the moment without fear because I have dealt with SO much more.  There is something so freeing with that feeling.  I know I can stand in front of a crowd and sing at the top of my lungs.  I know I can bungee jump from a helicopter.  I know I can do ANYTHING.  The world is a new place.....I guess it WAS a life-changing experience.  

Here's the video to my skydive-  http://www.lifepursuitvideo.com/asppublic/Video29706.aspx?CLIENT=29706&VF=AnnPeart_052811-2220.flv

Here's me zip-lining-

  

And here are some pics from the past couple months: 

An Easter Story

When I was about three years old, my family took me to a huge church Easter egg hunt.  You know the kind...all the kids line up in front of what seems like an enormous field filled with colored eggs at every bush, tree and oddly shaped blade of grass.  I was so proud to participate in my first big event.

There was a large crowd of children waiting for the hunt to begin.  You could feel the excitement in the air.  An adult told all the children to line up on the sidewalk, and then sit down facing the field of eggs.  Everyone was already looking for eggs from their seated positions. 

As I sat down, my sister noticed that I missed a step in getting dressed in my Easter best.  I was not wearing any underwear beneath my frilly white dress.   My sister, in her oh so helpful way, immediately brought it to my parents' attention.  They scooped me up out of the line and said, "We'll just run home and put some underwear on.  We'll be right back.  You won't miss a thing".  

But I did.

By the time we got back, the children had emptied the field of all it's eggy goodness, and I was left standing there with a covered bottom and an empty basket.  It was pitiful.  Each year following, everyone made sure I was wearing underwear before the Easter egg hunt.  

Liar, Liar, You Do NOT Use Contractions

As a child, I learned the phrase, "I didn't do it", as all children do.  I used it often.  However, most of the time, I was telling the truth.  There were also times that I used it when I was, in fact, the one that did it.  Yes, I ate the last banana and hid the peel behind the couch.  Yes, I ate an entire pound of grapes.  Yes, I MAY have played with hair spray and a lighter in my brother's room.  But they all soon learned how to read me...

When I was about 13 years old, my brother had a part time job at the People's Drug store.  Or was it Peebles?  Regardless, he worked there after school and on weekends.  Occasionally, he would bring home things that the store did not want or could not sell, like expired food or overstock.

In the several months following Halloween that year, he brought home approximately 100+ bags of Halloween candy.  The store had obviously over estimated their buyers purchasing power that year.  So all these wonderful bags of snack-sized candy bars made their way to my brothers room, where they sat on display across a long shelf.  The temptation was too great.  I took a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups for myself.  Oh, how good those forbidden treats tasted.  To top it off, my brother never noticed or suspected the loss.  Maybe I could take one more...or two...

Over the course of the next month, I took almost 30+ bags of candy off my brother's shelf.  He went about his teenage life, never noticing that his stash was now reduced by a third.  I hid the bags in the top of my closet, where I needed a chair to reach, and nobody would ever think to look there.  I didn't even know what to do with all of them.  I couldn't eat that much.  And then, I had another one of my brilliant ideas.  I would sell the candy to my friends.

I was born to be a salesperson. I took several different candy bars to school each day in my backpack.  I ate them in front of my friends, taunting them by opening one and taking a bite.  "Oh my gosh, these are SOoo good...".  And then the orders started pouring in.  I sold the candy bars for 25 cents a piece.  For about a month, I was known as the "go to" girl for candy during the day, and I was raking in the dough.  And then my big mouth got me in trouble.

I MAY have told one or two people where I got the candy.  And as I became smug in my selling abilities and hoards of money coming in, others became resentful of my success.  As I and my friends walked home from the bus stop, one of them shouted to my brother, who was standing in the front yard, "Ann's been stealing your candy and selling it at school!!"  Busted.

That evening, my family (all of them), sat in front of me and plainly asked, "Did you take Glen's candy?".  And I replied, "I did not do it."  They repeated, "Ann, did you take Glen's candy?", when they clearly knew the answer. But I stuck to my guns, "I did NOT do it"".  Although, once they had the candy in their possession, obtained from the top of my closet, I could not refute any longer.  My lie was out in the open, and was just as bad as the crime itself.

From that point on though, unbeknownst to me, everyone knew the telltale sign of my lies...I did not use a contraction.  They figured me out.  If I said, "I did NOT do it", they knew I lied.  Still, to this day, my family mocks and laughs at me about what a bad liar I am.  I don't even realize I do it.

Worst Babysitter Ever

I am the youngest of three.  My brother is older by five years, and my sister by two and a half years.  And when we were kids, we were out of control.  We were "those" kids that you see running around stores and restaurants, wildly screaming and climbing on furniture.

My parents often hired babysitters to escape us, even if just for a few hours.  However, we rarely had the same babysitter twice.  We never went to bed, or stayed in bed once there.  We even tied up a babysitter for our parents to find when they came home.  Ah....good times....

When my brother was old enough to supervise us, my parents would leave, only saying, "You kids be good!  We'll be home in a couple hours...."  But the couple hours didn't come.  They would call SEVERAL hours later and say, "Oh, we're in another state.  We'll be home in a couple days."  And we were left to fend for ourselves with TV dinners and endless hours of public television (we didn't have cable).  But we survived, unscathed.

As I got older and more mature (age 12), I felt confident in my abilities to govern those younger than I.  So I began taking babysitting jobs.  Most were easy.  All I had to do was sit for an hour or two and watch MTV while the kids had afternoon snacks. Then, I starting getting more serious jobs....babies.

Who in there right mind would let a 12-15 year old watch their baby?!  Or more importantly, Who in the right mind would let ME watch their baby?!  And I will be honest, I admit that I was not always the best babysitter.

As I sit and think about those days, I recall some very disturbing moments in my babysitting history.  I remember trying to test breastfeeding on an infant, who was not at all interested in my mosquito bites.  And I recall another instance with a different baby that happened to wander out of eye sight and subsequently fell down a small flight of stairs.  Luckily, he was not injured. (I did tell the parents)

And then, there was the time that I THOUGHT I was an awesome babysitter.  I had two older boys to watch, and we all had a brilliant plan to ride their mattress down the stairs like a sled.  It was a blast.  No one was injured, but the parents were none too pleased to come home as their six year old is barreling down the stairs on a Serta Sled.  As you can imagine, I was not asked to babysit again.

Luckily, as I grew old enough to work legitimately, I was able to work with kids in a structured environment.  However, that didn't seem to stop the antics.  When I worked for the summer camp with the local YMCA, watching 24 five and six year olds, I used to get in trouble for napping when the kids did.  Parents would sometimes have to wake me to pick their children up.

When I ran the Saturday Morning Fun Club at the local YMCA, I got in trouble for taping a kid to the wall.  Now don't get all upset, it was a few single pieces of scotch tape, and the boy was all for it.  But his parents were not nearly as amused. Nowadays though, I would probably be berated on national tv showing that my youtube videos of the incidents went viral.

Anyway, the point was, I sucked as a babysitter.  I was a wild kid, that grew into a semi-wild teenager (only wild with fun, I never did drugs), and then a more subdued wild adult.  And yes, I still do crazy stuff with my own children, and I MAY have broken that younger one, but overall, I'm a great mom.   Luckily, I can't get fired from this job!