Stunts and Stilettos
By Landra Glover
Yep, that’s me attempting to ride my bike down a handicap ramp, and all I can say is thanks to the Gods—the Gods of Please Don’t Let Me Break My Neck, the Gods of Cool Points, and the Gods of I Can Do Anything. The days of playing safe with my son Jaxon ended years ago. Trust me, I’ve tried to maintain all the safe play I possibly could, but Jaxon isn’t having it. The only time we really cuddle is during story time. Otherwise, WWE is the name of the game.
I remember sitting in my car when I was living in Maryland, delivering the unexpected news to my girlfriend that I was pregnant and was going to have a boy. No, before you get skeptical, wait. I was absolutely and positively having a boy. Looking back, I have no idea why I was so adamant about having a man-child, but a man-child is exactly what I got. Now at the spur of any moment, I’m challenged to perform random acts of tomboyishness. With his father living in another state and Jaxon’s ability to display the perfect disappointed face, I’ve mustered the courage to allow Jaxon opportunities to send me to the ER.
Growing up with four brothers in the house, I stayed ready. I knew that my brothers were always sure to challenge me in one way or another. Believe me, I have sprained my ankle, been punched in the eye, and played my share of tackle football—and I survived. In many ways I wore my tomboy reputation like a badge of honor.
Then it happened. One day I decided that I wanted to be cute. I wanted a boyfriend, and I wanted to wear heels and look like a lady. I managed to salvage some of my tomboyishness through the process, just enough to keep the mean girls and the bad boys away in high school. Most teenage girls dream of dating the popular guy, and I did. Plus, I was voted Best Dressed for the yearbook. So as life went on, I thought I didn’t need the tomboy anymore, and out the door she went—at least mostly.
So the stilettos became my first choice, but the tennis shoes always remained on deck. The problem is, I was a little rusty when Jaxon came into my life. He started yanking my necklaces and earrings off, and although people told me to be patient with it, no one said he would graduate to yanking on light fixtures and jumping off handrails. Applying lipstick to a lip that’s swollen because your son headbutted it isn’t easy. And I had no idea my six-year-old would have the body of a nine-year-old or that I’d sustain back bruises and achiness because he was convinced he was the real Spiderman.
Stilettos make bike stunts considerably more difficult, and I consider retiring them. But hey, I like heels and I’m single with plans to mingle.
Landra mother of one. She is also a published Author and winner of the National Head Start Parent of the Year. She enjoys reading, traveling being active and currently starting a new business venture.
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