Bending wire, bending wills
I spent Zack's first summer bending wire. (No, not with my mind, silly - although I think that would have entertained Alexis, who was 3 at the time, for hours. Now that would have been interesting.) Greg had just left restaurant management , with its long hours and drunks, for a small computer software company, for different long hours and folks who either could use a drink, or have no excuse for their bad behavior - at least a drunk has an excuse. I found myself alone with two small kids in a cramped apartment. I had quit my part-time job after Zack was born and most of longtime friends hadn't had kids yet (read: had a life, one without diapers.) So, I was a little lonely. We would go to the park and swim in the pool, everyday. I had a little hankering for something to occupy my mind, something besides being a mommy. I remember meeting my friend ShayLyn at the Saturday market. She had started a business, selling beaded jewelry, after breaking her leg at work; she seemed inspired and giddy. (She also seemed well rested. She was childless.) I didn't know if the beads themselves held some magical property or if Shay was on too much pain medication. I decided to give it a try. We drove straight to the craft store where I carefully duct taped Lexi's roaming hands to the cart, in a loving manner of course, and started sifting through beads. Twisting wire was therapeutic. I had found an outlet. Lexi would play with her dinosaurs, Zack would swing, and I would stay sane, for just a little longer.
It's been years since I've picked up my pliers. I don't have much feeling in my fingers anymore (thanks neuropathy, you're a great pal), but I can still manage. Lexi lit up when she saw my old cache of beads and wires. She can't wait to give it a try. And given their soothing properties, I say whatever works baby. Get bending.
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