Josie's Art

My daugther painted a masterpiece with guacamole and a paper napkin. Everyone at the table watched. Some in awe. Some in horror. She passionately flipped the napkin over to get to a clean canvas for her next work of art. Her grandmother and a few others couldn't hold back any more. Several napkins were tossed Josie's way to keep her from spreading the green mess any further. Josie looked up, irritated that her artistic flow had been interrupted by flying napkins. But she grabbed another napkin and contined spreading the green mess all over. Picasso didn't let his critics stop him either.

Dinner at Mijares,like most things, was done Josie's way. She ate her beans with the wrong side of the spoon. She stirred the salsa with her straw. She watched me with great anticipation as I stuck my chip in the salsa and discovered an ice cube. When she sat down that night, Josie didn't see a table with plates, napkins, drinks and food. She saw endless possibilities.

Being a mother of a child like Josie is a balancing act. I constantly struggle with how to let her spirit soar but keep her butt in the chair. She has an incredible imagination. She entertains me when describes the imaginary birds that she holds in her hands so I can pet them. That same incredible imagination inspires her to smear desitin all over her brother's body to make him look like a snowman. I balance the scales everyday. And because of who I am and what I have been through, I usually tip the scales towards letting her spirit soar higher than I should.

There is no doubt that my battle with cancer affects the way I parent my children. Even though I deny it's influence, cancer, and all the emotional baggage that comes with surviving it, affects everything I do. I am too familiar with the hardships in life. I know too well how it feels to be laughing with friends one day and thinking you are dying the next. I walked through the halls of the hospital on the way to my appointments and saw children, barely old enough to walk, walking to their appointments. Life can be incredibly awful. Much more awful than spending an hour wiping desitin off Josie's hands and Owen's frosty white body. And if something happens tomorrow, to any of us, I just want the day before the most awful day of our lives, to be about something more than getting mad or getting in trouble.

There are times when I am just a parent who gets mad at Josie for talking too loud at church. Momentary lapses when I am probably acting how a parent should. Sometimes, I wish I acted like that more often. I worry that Josie will never be able to keep her butt in the chair at school. I worry she won't be able to accomplish everything in life because I didn't push her to conform to certain rules. Rules that you can't avoid later in life. But I never worry about her being happy or experiencing everything a day has to offer. And I am okay with that. At least until my first parent teacher conference.