The Po Show

Hope

The day did not begin well. When I went to wake Tessa up, she moaned and said immediately, "I don't feel good." No no no no no no! Not again! I had Matthew's long-awaited parent conference today, and I needed her to *go to school*.

In the hope that she was just tired after the long weekend, I let her stay in bed a few minutes longer. Then I carried her out to the couch and got her some dried blueberries (instant sugar! perk you up!). Then she agreed to try and eat a couple of waffles, which she did, lying on the couch, silently, looking very hangdog. After she ate, she looked very pale ("How can you tell?," my niece once asked me when I said Tessa looked pale, considering how fair she is normally) and said her stomach hurt. I gave her Pepto-Bismol. She was very congested. I gave her Mucinex and Sudaphed. I got her dressed. I helped her to the bathroom. I got her toothbrush ready.

After she finished going to the bathroom, she looked at me, tears in her eyes. She looked awful. "All right!," I snapped. "Go lay on the couch!"

"I have to wash my hands," she said weakly.

"Go ahead!," I yelled. And then I started to cry. I mean, she was FINE all freaking weekend. She was fine all last week, if residually snotty. So today she feels sick, once again messing up my plans? It's just been one thing after another, since our trip. I called to reschedule the conference.

Matthew went to school (a little freaked out because I'd cried. He tried to rub my shoulders, poor boy :( ). I left Tessa on the couch and told her I was going back to bed. I got up at 10:30, took a shower, put a load of laundry in the washer, made myself coffee, then got ready for the inauguration.

And then, you know? I was really glad she was here with me. She didn't want to watch the inauguration *at all*. She wanted to finish watching The Kids Next Door movie on Cartoon Network, but I told her she didn't have a choice. This was historic, and someday she'd tell her children that when Barack Obama was sworn in as President, she was home sick with her mom, and we'd watched it together.

"Is it almost over?," she kept asking, during the hour and a half I made her sit with me and watch, as I sobbed and sobbed and felt my heart swell to bursting. I can see her point; most of the proceedings showed a bunch of people walking through hallways and outside to a balcony. But for me the whole thing was magical. (An aside: Can we just BOTTLE Yo-yo Ma? The sheer joy and humanity that man exudes. If we could sprinkle his essence over the earth, there'd be no war.)

When President Obama spoke of the bravery of Americans, the usual brave selfless souls, the firefighters who tumble into the smoke-filled corridors, but also the parents who nurture their children, I grabbed Tessa and thought YES, that's right. It takes bravery and selflessness to be a parent. Hearing that made me want to pledge to be a better person, to roll with the punches more gracefully, to not see the sick child as a thwarting of my plans.

He spoke of trust, and the strength we all share, and finding meaning in something greater than ourselves. I was filled with hope, for all of us, and for myself, that I could.