"Do-Over" (and over and over and over)

I've often made mention of Ella's obsession with Yo Gabba Gabba. Because of that, I frequently walk around the house/grocery store/Target singing their very crack-infused but catchy songs. One of Ella's favorite's is "keep trying, keep trying, don't give up, never give up. . ." She'll sing it to herself sometimes, when she's trying to fix a toy or buckle herself into her carseat. I'll hear her saying in her sing-songy lilt, "keep trying Ewwa, keep trying, don't give up. . ." A-freakin-dorable.

I had a doctor's appointment this morning to get some bloodwork done. I've been suspecting that I'm anemic due to the fact that I've made several dietary adjustments as of late. That, and I'm bruising like an over-fondled bag of apples, not to mention I'm seriously fatigued (you know, more than just your average mom of two). So I walked in to my appointment today when a) I'm already exhausted, lightheaded, and slightly nauseated b) I'm incredibly hormonal (that gets it's own letter) and c). I hate the doctor's office. I seriously can't stress that enough. Every time I go, I have to find my Zen place, do deep breathing and sing silly songs in my head (how's that for quirky?). Ever since I developed my anxiety disorder, doctor's offices have unfortunately served as a reminder of the dark place I lived in for the period of 3 years after Jake and I were married. Even now when I'm clearly stronger, better and more confidant, it still requires a ton of mental and emotional energy for me to go to appointments, and multiply that times fifty when I have to get bloodwork done. Before I can stop myself, I've already fast forwarded the horror movie in my head to the last scene when I'm passed out on the floor because I got woozy, or worse, I've thrown up my breakfast/lunch/iced grande half-caf two pump classic Americano from Starbucks.

The demons of emetophobia still beckon from time to time. Most days, I find that I have both the mental and emotional capacity to beat them back. Some days I can even knock them into next week (whatever that means). But today, I let them get the best of me and told myself that I simply didn't have it in me to sit in a lab with a needle stuck in my arm. So I excused myself quietly from the waiting room, gave the receptionist a lame excuse (read: big white lie) and left. Luckily, she penciled me in for a later time today. I came home, flopped down on the couch with some lunch and every intention of taking a nap (for real, this time) and switched on the TV. Of course, it's always tuned to Nick Jr and when it came on, I immediately recognized Plex, Brobee and the others and wouldn't you know, they're singing "keep trying, keep trying, you'll get it right, you'll get it right."

I know it's crazy that I'm about to wax philosophical off of something akin to a 22 minute acid trip, but the show has some merit in the lessons it teaches. (Seriously people, don't bite your friends. It won't end well). Ella and Milo will both inevitably have their share of missed opportunities and set-backs as they grow up. That's just life. But in this household, those situations will only be deemed failures if nothing is learned from them. Lucky for them, they have a momma who is well-acquainted with having to try, try again- for things that many people wouldn't even give a second thought to. A couple of things I intend to pass on to them:

-It's okay to get beat down, but staying down is simply not an option.
-Showing up is half the battle.
-Victories are victories, no matter how seemingly small and insignificant they might be to someone else.
-When you're offered a second (third, fourth, one hundred fifty-fifth) chance, you take it and say "thank you."


Now- lucky for me- I get to put all of these into practice again today at 4 pm. (I'll be that annoying person sitting in the lab singing the Yo Gabba Gabba songs under my breath). :)