I have two pairs of stacked heel sensible–but cute!–shoes that need repair. This statement has been true for more than five years.

The fact that i even have both shoes of each pair in the back of my car, and a shoe repair shop within a mile of my home does not help.

I swear, if there was a shoe repair shop that let my MAIL these shoes them and get them back a month later i could have gotten my shoes back.

timing is everything. That repair store is not open when I am home. Or more importantly after Veronica goes to sleep.

synchronicity. it’s a luxury

It’s called crowd surfing. Usually at a concert, someone falls onto a crowd of people with their arms above their heads. Their hands and their arms all carry the one person, everyone helping, and he moves over the crowd.  He would be too heavy for any one of them, but everyone together can carry him easily.

I’ve never done it but it looks amazing. I don’t think I would have the courage and the trust to throw my body over a bunch of people. I would fall.

I couldn’t have that kind of faith.

Except in other ways I have that kind of faith all the time.  I trust my husband with my heart. I trust my job with my hopes and ambitions. My husband has a very precious trust, and I picked him carefully. I tested and tried his worthiness. To my chagrin, I often still try him to make sure I can trust him.

Like kicking a support on a bridge you are already crossing.

Then there are other times, when I let myself be vulnerable, that strangers or near strangers will come and pick up the burden.  I was terrified of some dental work I had to do last year, and a lot of people talked to me and helped with the fear. When I trusted people with my humiliating silly problem, I threw some faith into the wishing well, and they helped carry me. Like the people underneath a crowd surfer.

Beautiful.

When it’s good, it is beautiful. But trust can be broken, and the faith can be betrayed. It happens.

I would recover from falling at a concert. But the kind of trust I put in my husband, and my friends, it takes a long time to recover from a fall like that. And it can paralyze you.

Don’t do it! Don’t leap! The ouch is too big.

When it happens, yeah. It can be really big, that ouch.

But if it hasn’t happened, and you’re only afraid it might…well, you’re only afraid.

It is a risk. Those people below might not catch you.

And your lover might betray you.

When I abide, and try to keep my faith, I find that there are just enough people, just enough random acquaintances and strangers who show up.

Didn’t expect that guy to help me move. Never knew that one’s name, but she told me the perfect encouraging thing.

It keeps the balance tipped towards faith. If you can keep the faith.

Veronica, from her bed after being put down to sleep:

Don’t eat sand.

Me: Was someone eating sand at school?

Veronica: Me!

She’s telling on herself. I like that kind of confidence.

Veronica: Eat food.

Me: That’s right. Sand is not food.

———————-

Daddy and I have been working on punishment. There is the time out, but more importantly there is the threat of time out.  Or, as I usually call it, punishment.

Daddy has discovered he possesses a super power: DAD VOICE.

He doesn’t know his own strength. Sometimes, he will yell in Dad Voice when startled “VERONICA! PUT THAT DOWN!”

She will dissolve into tears and Mommy is needed to restore order and beauty to the universe after the fearful appearance of Dad Voice.

So. Now he’s cocky. When I would threaten with time-out punishment, he threatens to yell.

“Veronica, I need you to listen. Do you want me to yell at you?”

“No.”

“So you need to put that down and buckle your seat belt.”

She sometimes cooperates with this.

We’re enjoying a golden age of bedtime right now. She’s sleeping better, and putting herself to sleep better. There is still the cotillion of “I need water”, “leave the door open” and “Come hold my hand” but it is very truncated.

So. Daddy is checking on her. She is tucked, but in the darkness, there is a little rustly noise.

Veronica: “What is foot doing?”

Daddy: “Foot needs to be quiet and go to sleep.”

Veronica: “Oh no! Foot is getting away”

Daddy: “No No. Foot needs to listen. Do you think I need to yell at foot?”

Veronica: hee hee

Daddy: “GO TO SLEEP FOOT!”

Veronica: *destroyed with giggles*

He tells me this after the fact. It is cute. But he’s diluting the medicine.  Daddy Voice is not a toy.

With great power comes great responsibility.