The Butterfly Effect

Have you ever pondered the moments that have led up to where you are right now? When I was younger I used to love reading those “Choose Your Own Adventure Books.” It was easy to make a decisive decision knowing that once the story was over I was going to go back and make the other decision. I think I read every single page in those books. In real life, the same cannot be done. No matter how many times I play the “What If” game I cannot change those things that have brought me to where I am. What if I’d taken Calculus AB instead of BC? What if I’d chosen to go to a different University? What if I’d played soccer in college instead of running? A different choice at any point would have drastically changed where I am today. I think that is why I am so indecisive. I know my choice could be life altering, but unlike reading a book, I won’t be able to go back and change the decision.

Great thought and deliberation cannot be undertaken for every choice, though. That would be a crippling lifestyle. Besides, there are choices we make without even thinking and things that just happen that affect our circumstances continually, for better or worse. I’m sure you’ve thought of them before. If I hadn’t lost my keys, I would have been in that accident … if I had been home the package would not have been stolen from off the porch … if I’d listened to my instincts … if I’d done this and hadn’t done that … the “If Only” game is just as popular as the “What If” game. These games make it possible for us to reflect on the effects our decisions have on our lives. But how do our decisions affect the lives of others?

Last Friday (3/4/11) we decided to take the girls to the University of Utah gymnastics meet. We had a pass that allowed us to choose from 6 meets. Due to a little poor planning and a lot of craziness from our kids, we finally made plans to attend the last meet on the schedule. Earlier that day I had taken Mylah shopping when the gas light in the Trailblazer came on. I was past all the gas stations so I said I’d do it on the way home. Well, the gas light went off and I forgot—I was caught up in the regular business of life and getting ready for our family activity.

Anytime I try to do something or go somewhere, it seems that all the forces of nature combine against me to prevent it from happening. But everything was going so smoothly that day I couldn’t believe it! The girls took the right length naps at the right times, meals and snacks were actually eaten and at the right times, the diaper bag was all packed and ready to go, and Vance made a wonderful dinner that the girls gobbled up, all of which are factors important to the success of a late night outing. We left just a little bit late, but for us that counts as early! We did have to stop to fill up on gas because I had neglected to earlier. Then we got on the freeway going west instead of east. Dang autopilot! We got turned around and assured ourselves we avoided some sort of accident by our detour. As we neared the University, the roads suddenly became very crowded. We hadn’t thought about the fact that, besides it being senior night, a lot of people would be attending the meet against #1 Florida.

There was nowhere to park. Eventually Vance was able to drop me off with the girls while he went to find a parking spot across the valley. Thinking I would have to stand in line to convert my free pass into tickets, I headed straight for the entrance. Fortunately there were no lines to stand in. Unfortunately I couldn’t get in AND expect Vance to get in too. So we waited under the heat lamps next to the frigid wind coming through the door. I sent a quick text to Vance letting him know which door we were at so he could meet us as soon as possible.

Kids don’t really stay still for very long. And for Katie that means not at all. She was into everything she could find, climbing under the roped off areas, and making it difficult to bring her back. Mylah was inspired by her adventuresome sister and did some exploring of her own. After a while even I was tired of standing “still” whilst chasing down my children (holding one in each arm didn’t last very long). Since I hadn’t heard back from Vance I assumed he had yet to find a parking spot, so I took the girls outside to run around. They didn’t seem to mind the chilly wind, and neither did I after roasting under the heat lamps for so long. They ran off, climbed up stairs, tripped and fell, crawled in the dirt, and followed random people. Finally, I got a phone call.

“Where are you guys? Didn’t you say the door across from the HPER?” he asks.

“Yes, the door across from the east end of the HPER by the stairs you dropped us off at.”

“Oh. I’m at the northwest doors. I’ll be there in a sec.”

I grabbed the girls and headed back to the door, warming the three of us up under the heat lamps and waiting as two families entered. We finally spotted Vance and the girls wiggled out of my arms to run and jump into his. Another family walked by us to enter but I guess I didn’t really notice that they turned around and left again. We walked up to the ticket takers I had been standing next to for the last half hour, presented our pass, and announced there were four of us, in case they couldn’t count.

“We’re sold out.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“You can upgrade your tickets at the ticket office if you’d like.”

“Are you kidding me?!? I should have just taken the girls in and let you fend for yourself. You think they could have told me they were about to sell out. It’s not like they didn’t notice us standing here FOREVER!” I mumble to Vance, not-so-secretly hoping the ticket ladies will overhear. “Mylah was so excited just watching it on the screen when we could get a glimpse; she is going to be so disappointed.”

Vance led me out the door before I could tell if the ticket ladies heard or cared about my sob story. We discussed the possibility of upgrading our tickets to the lower bowl, and then settled on trying a different door. Rejected again.

“How much does it cost to upgrade?”

“Doesn’t matter. They are sold out everywhere. If the ticket has not already been purchased then there is no chance of getting in.”

I was distraught and holding back tears. I frantically played the “What If” game, reviewing all the factors (in our control or not) that led up to us not getting into the meet. I was upset, mostly for Mylah, who at this point didn’t really understand what was going on. And I had to pee. Really bad. I had been holding it for longer than I was standing ever so still in that doorway, waiting to get into the stadium, which is a pre-requisite to entering the bathroom. We decided to go into the HPER to find a bathroom, which of course was locked, so we waited for someone to leave then grabbed the door and snuck in.

It’s funny how six years and two kids later I couldn’t remember where anything was when I practically lived in that building. Seriously. Napped there, ate, showered, and got dressed. Of course that was pretty much confined to the locker room. Not to mention they had changed a few things. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a public restroom in the basement, but Vance secretly wanted to see if I could remember the code to the locker rooms. I have a knack for remembering random things like that. Sky miles number, my best friends phone number from when I was three, library card barcode, elementary school lunch pin, you get the idea. But I could not remember those four numbers. At least I think there were four … but even if I could have produced four plausible numbers there was no guarantee they hadn’t changed the code. It has been six years.

After circling the basement, and by the way it is a huge building, we finally made our way upstairs and to the bathroom, just as Mylah announced she had to go too. My frustrations had subsided, somewhat, and the girls were having fun. Mylah didn’t seem to know or care what she was missing out on so I was attempting to move on. But it’s really hard to stop the “What If” game once your subconscious starts playing it.

We headed outside again, to start the long trek to our vehicle. We walked past the swimming pool which was a distraction/attraction (depending on your point-of-view). Katie ran up to the glass and started banging and screaming at the swimmers below. Actually there were no swimmers. Just a kayaker in a short boat and a bunch of life guards. Mylah proceeded much more cautiously, and stopped about a foot from the glass. She peered over an invisible rail at the water below before inching a little closer for a better view. We stayed there until the girls were bored, which was indicated by Katie running off to find the next new adventure. After I grabbed her, we decided it was time to head back to the car. We couldn’t think of anything else to do downtown and therefore resigned to cut our losses in gas money. If only we hadn’t waited until the last meet it wouldn’t be so hard for me to accept, since we could, in theory, try again. If only this, if only that. Here I go again.

“Where are we going?” asked Mylah as we walked past the Huntsman Center.

“Back to the car.”

“But I didn’t get to see my gin-nastics!” she said in her best whiny voice.

Now she cares. And now I feel even worse. We were all pretty cold so I suggested we stand in a doorway under the heat lamps and let Mylah watch a little bit on the screen if we could get a decent view. We entered the doors and the ticket takers let us know they were sold out. “We know. We’re just getting warm for a minute.” Vance and I were on either side of the doorway, me with Mylah and he with Katie. As I tried to thread Mylah’s vision toward the big screen, I realized the staircase was in the way. Vance was trying to tell me he could see it great from his side (at least I think that’s what he was saying) when two people walked through our conversation. A lady pulled out two tickets from her purse and handed them to the ticket takers. As they were being scanned, she looked back at me and asked if I had tickets. I briefly muttered something about having a pass but the seats were sold out. She reached back into her purse and pulled out two more tickets and said, “Here have these.”

In an instant my subconscious ceased the continual “What If” and “If Only” games it had been playing and suddenly attempted to calculate the odds of us being in the doorway at that brief moment the lady was passing through. If I hadn’t let Katie linger at the swimming pool a moment longer, or if we’d gone straight to the bathrooms rather than wandering, or if we’d just given up and gone straight to the car, we would not have been in the doorway at the exact moment that particular person, with two extra tickets, who was observant enough to notice us hovering in the doorway trying to peer in, entered the stadium. Why did she have two extra tickets? Why did she bring them with her? Why was she an hour late to the meet? Why did she come in that door?

I can only wonder about the circumstances she experienced that led her to be in that exact spot at that exact moment. Was it statistically significant to the Universe? No. Was it life changing? No. Does it really matter in the great scheme of things? Probably not. But it made a difference in the lives of two little girls, not to mention their mother. We got to see the last half of the meet. Mylah loved jumping along to the music and Katie got a huge grin and clapped vigorously with the crowd after each performance. Will this one moment have a significant impact on their future? Perhaps. After all, it is a combination of moments like these, swirled by an array of flaps from a butterfly’s wings, that makes our lives what they are today.

Bowl of Rice

I think motherhood can be defined as a collection of moments like this:

Today I decided the girls needed a bath. Maybe it was because Katie stuck her plate to her head with syrup and her jammies were secured around her elbow with pancake bits. Or maybe it was just because they hadn’t had a full body scrub since Sunday morning. Either way, I had the perfect plan! While they enjoyed splashing in the tub, I would dig through that three story pile of laundry to sort, treat, and soak our clothes so I would have a nice clean outfit to dress my nice clean girls in. But we all know how perfect plans (or any plans for that matter) go.

“Mommy!” Mylah yells, jumping up. “Katie pooped!”

“Thank goodness I didn’t put bubbles in the tub, otherwise that may have gone unnoticed for a while,” I thought to myself as I drained the tub and cleared the laundry out of the sink. Toys go into the sink, wash cloths to the laundry, and out comes the bleach spray!

“Mommy, I’m cold,” whines Mylah as we wait for the surfaces to be fully sanitized. “I nee go potty.”

You know what’s fun? Keeping a one-year-old from climbing into a bleach-covered tub and out of the sink while holding a three-year-old on the toilet. But our ten minutes are finally up. I rinse out the tub, fill it with warm water, add the bubbles, put in Mylah, put in Katie, rinse out the squirt toys, and throw them back in the tub one by one. Now back to that laundry—for a few minutes anyway.

“Mommy! Katie pooped again!”

Out comes Mylah, already whining about how cold she is. Out comes Katie, who promptly pees all over the floor then slips and falls as she walks through it. Clean up the pee. Laundry out of the sink, toys in the sink. Back to the tub to fish out the poop. SPLASH!! What was that? What fell in the tub? MY PHONE!! What was I thinking storing it in my sweatshirt pocket?!? I grab the phone, rush downstairs to the kitchen while attempting to take off the back to get the battery out. I really hope my accidental bumps of the volume button don’t short anything. Battery out, excess water wiped off. I grab a bowl, put down a layer of rice, add phone, and cover with more rice. Let sit for 24 hours before serving. This had better work or else I am never doing laundry or giving the girls a bath again!

On the way upstairs I grab Katie who is running around the house naked, put Mylah on the toilet, again, take the wash cloths to the laundry, and pull out the bleach spray. Then I chase the naked baby who has escaped again. Come back and help Mylah off the toilet. Drain tub, catch poop, dispose, repeat.

“Mommy, I need a manklet (translation: blanket). I’m cold,” whines Mylah. “Just a minute I am almost done cleaning the tub and I’ll wrap you in a towel.” “No I don’t want a towel. I need a manklet pecause I’m cold. Can you see I have goose bumps?” “Just a minute Mylah I am almost done.”

Ignore the crying, keep Katie from hurting herself as she climbs over water-soaked surfaces, bleach the tub, spray the toys, wait. Rinse the tub, fill with warm water, add bubbles. In goes Mylah, in goes Katie. Katie promptly pees into the bath water. SERIOUSLY?!?!?