ive been away my loves. but i am back, and this is a prayer to you.

i currently work at an elementary school and i see lots of cute little kids every day do cute little things that make me believe the universe is a cute little place. sometimes it makes my heart ache because i see little kids cry and i see little kids not have friends and i see little kids eat their lunches alone and just not fit in too well. sometimes i am reminded of being a cute little kid and sometimes my heart feels sad for little kid me trying to make it in a big bad world and especially for the time in fourth grade when someone told me "it ain't over till the fat lady sings, so sing shannon," and i took my 110 pound body home and cried till i could cry no more, and then ate a doughnut. life is hard on the playground.

today i was watching the kids at recess and i was reminded of little kid shannon again. a little girl asked me to watch her do the monkey bars, and as she proceeded to twist her stick thin body into pretzels all over those things, i felt a little twinge of sadness for my days on the playground. i was a beefy kid and though i wanted to be prom queen of the playground, the girl that did cartwheels and splits and one handed monkey bars, i was the opposite. i would attempt the monkey bars only when i was all by myself, painstakingly trying over and over to no avail. i had no upper body strength, and i had had one too many fruit snacks in my days. but i knew, somehow, someway, i had to do those monkey bars to gain my title as playground prom queen. so i practiced and practiced.

finally, one day i attempted those monkey bars, in front of everyone, right in the middle of recess. my heart was pounding, my knees were shaking, but all i wanted was to get across, to waltz across gracefully, to swing from bar to bar like the 50 pound girls with perfect headbands that never finished their lunches because they were too full and competed in gymnastics after school. i crossed five bars before i fell, straight on my face. everyone saw. i was humilated. my face had broken my fall. i cried. it was at that moment, right there on the playground, 17 years ago, i realized i would never be prom queen of the playground. i would probably never be prom queen of anything. and no matter how hard i tried or how much i practiced or how many less doughnuts i ate, i would never be the stick-thin one-handed monkey bar girl.

come to find out, 17 years later, my arms are actually abnormally short, about 2 inches shorter on each arm than they should be. my eternal boyfriend nicholas calls me t-rex. i never realized until just today that probably part of my monkey bar woes were due in part to my t-rex status (especially combined with the fact i hit the 100 pound mark in second grade). but that, my dear friends, is not the point. it doesnt matter why i couldnt do them, it doesnt matter that it was my life dream to be playground prom queen, it doesnt matter that i took one gymnastics class, realized i was the only person in the class who couldnt do a cartwheel, and never came back. it doesnt matter that i would watch the olympics and dream about wearing little leotards and pray every night to God that he would change my body type and flexibility level and make me popular. it doesnt matter because 17 years later, watching little leslie swing her stick legs all over the monkey-bars and do all the things i ever dreamed about doing, i realized i am glad i am me. and i realized the monkey bars are really not that important, even though they seemed life or death 17 years ago.

i have lots of flaws. i cannot do monkey bars. i never match. i cant organize to save my life. i complain. i lose things. i never have my cell phone. i can be mean. i can be selfish. i get jealous. even now, 17 years later, i get jealous of the perfect headbanded one-armed monkey bar-doing stick thin girls all grown up. sometimes they still seem perfect. but as i passed through elementary school and middle school and high school and college, i started to learn no one is perfect. people are just people. some people are good at the monkey bars. some people are good at pokemon. some people are good at giving hugs. some peopel are good at school. some people are good at laughing. some people are good at exposing their personal insecurities about monkey bars on the internet.

so, my lovely blog readers, i want you to know i like myself, and i like you. i am not good at the monkey bars, but i am good at lots of other things. there are lots of things i need to work on. but i have accepted who i am and im glad for it. im glad for the day i cried on the playground, and learned how to brush myself off and get up and keep on living and be okay with never being playground prom queen, because i am lucky to just be me. you are lucky to just be you. i want you all to know that whether i know you or not, i know you are good at things too. maybe you are a prom queen, a whiz at the monkey bars who manages to do it while keeping every perfect hair in place. most likely you are just like the rest of us masses, undercover prom queens that are good at things like conversations or dropping baked goods off for people or loving with your whole heart or making perfect popcorn, things that will never get us to the olympics or make us the most popular person on the playground, but thats okay. im glad for me. im glad for you. im glad we are all different sizes and shapes and have different lengths of arms and talents, and we are all good at different things. and since this post is a prayer to you, anyone out there in the internet universe, i am giving us all the challenge of spending one week loving ourselves the way we are. loving ourselves for what we are good at, and loving others for what they are good at. not being jealous, just being happy that we all have something great to offer the world, something to offer by just being me or you. i will be happy for all of you that can do the monkey bars, and you try not to be jealous of my t-rex arms.

thats all. good luck on the playground of life. im sure glad youre you.

ps i will never go a month ago without another prayer. promise.