callus

Do you know how long a pedicure and a manicure takes on a gymnast? Almost 2 hrs. It still only cost 8 bucks (not including tip).  I thought it had taken a really long time, sitting there chatting with the student stylist, a woman about my own age. Under all the make-up and overdone hair she was beautiful and kind. Yes, it had seemed like a lot of time but I nothing to compare it to. 

It was at the front counter that I understood it had been extravagantly long as I listened to the student stylist try to politely explain: big smile, "she's a gymnasts" dip of the head lower tone "a lot of calluses" the manager nodding while sizing up Beach. While I paid I sent Beach back into the maze of long counter tops, twirly chairs, and mirrors to hand deliver the tip to the poor woman. She never did find her forcing us to leave the money at the counter both of us praying it was in the right hands.

Causing trouble to those helping us seemed to be the theme for the day. At the eye doctors where you might have heard we discovered Beach's frames have been discontinued. Well, that was the least of the girl who was helping us troubles. Giving us the floor model as a replacement she tried to pop Beach's lenses out at the counter. The first one popped right out the second she nearly broke the frame then remarked, "Oh this one is sooooo thick." Turned red and began apologizing. We told her there was no need. 

She disappeared into the back to struggle with it in private. 10 minutes passed. She returned smiled sweetly at us as she walked by then without much thought to the way sound works announced to the girl helping the man at the next station, "I need you in the back this is a total disaster." 

Once the 2 of them got the lenses in the floor model Beach was presented with her glasses only to have to tell the girls that they had inadvertently put the lenses in wrong switching the right with the left. 

After she got it straighten out and schedule us a Sunday afternoon appointment with Beach's fabulous doctor she sweetly took the time to chat with Beach about gymnastics.

This weekend wasn't suppose to be about the kindness of strangers.  It was supposed to be about our little family soaking in the waters of Maple Grove Hot Springs. It was the first weekend were all free to go camping all *summer. The last and the first open weekend.

But instead BC felt he needed to put the trip aside so he could take the kid and a few other kids from the bike team at school to ride in a race down south in St. George. I understood. This is life with kids. Things come up. Plans change. Life goes on. I helped him plan. I helped him pack. We sent them on their way. 

He wasn't here when the little blue eyeglasses bit the dust. He wasn't here when we picked out pumpkins to carve. He wasn't here when I received one of the best gifts I have ever gotten: a single white piece of paper proving I had single-handedly paid for Beach's competitive season. He wasn't here when the little chick with the deformity on its beak finally died. He wasn't here when Beach and I dressed for a fire pit dinner draped in Hawaiian leis and roasted hot dogs, starbursts, and marshmallows. 

Not here, he had driven 302 miles in the big van. Ate all the cost for food and gas. Taken charge of a few extra kids and the care of their gear. Camped in the crowded race parking lot with his ex wife and her whole family near by- dreaming of Maple Grove. All for his kid. A kid who after everything his dad had done for him never even bothered to cross the finish line. Frustrated by a tire slightly rubbing against the frame "slowing" him down he pitched a fit and refused to go the last few yards to finish despite many attempts form the adults and teammates around him to rationalize the situation. 

This morning BC home, tired and sullen drinking coffee listened to the sounds of Beach cleaning. By 8 am she had cleaned the entire main floor and was moving out into the yard... I have always felt down deep inside it is just Beach and I against the world. I'm liking our odds.