Little did you know just how endangered and sad Buzz Lightyear is in this classic Foraker photo. Buzz is often rescuing all sorts of people all over our house, saving them from danger, distracting villains, and flying "to infinity and beyond" off of various pieces of furniture. In short, he's the man.
But, if you look carefully he's missing one important tool: his space helmet. Poor guy has been breathing earth's oxygen for far too long and has been at a severe super-hero disadvantage. Being the semi-conscious parent, I didn't even notice. When I took this picture, I thought Buzz was his super-hero bad ass self. Apparently not.
Yesterday I found Patrick with a pouty face sitting in his room holding Buzz. Since this is not too unusual I did my classic mom-reaction: ignore. It lasted a bit longer, so I finally asked what was not exactly perfect in his life. He informed me that Buzz was needing his space helmet. We had seen two pieces of clear plastic in the game cupboard. High five to whoever thought to put them there and not toss them into the garbage. (We know it wasn't John since his default notion is always throw it away!) So, I ask him if those pieces were his helmet and he nodded sadly yes.
I find the pieces and head with trepidation back to his room. This is so not my strong point. I'm excellent at getting the grass stain out of the dress pants, really good at making comfort food, usually I fly into the stratosphere like Buzz when it comes to finding the right gift to give one of my kids but fixing a broken something...not good.at all.
So, there I am in the bedroom crouched over plastic and feeling my potential credibility with Patrick and Caroline hanging in the balance. Can she do it? I finagle my way through the moment and somehow coax two pieces of plastic into their spots. Patrick attempts to close Buzz's helmet all the way down and it doesn't work. He looks at me, unimpressed. In a normal moment I would tell him to be happy and move on. The helmet was back on his head and even though it didn't work exactly right he should be thrilled it was staying on his head even for a moment. However, that unimpressed blank face and the subsequent: "The air can still get in, Mommy," made me pause.
I can do this, I tell myself. It isn't that hard. You can figure this out, Beth. Sure it's plastic. Sure, it's counter-intuitive and it should not be this hard but you can do it. Think like an engineer. Stay with it. So, I look at the two pieces. I really contemplate the engineering and magically notice that I had the pieces on upside down and reversed. I make another attempt and it really feels tight...too tight...that plastic is very close to breaking. If that happens, it's all over. A full-on tragedy. I push my luck -- knowing that my dear yoga teacher friend would be telling me to yield instead of push harder. I force the plastic and cringe...waiting for the inevitable crack and the disgust from both of my kids that "Daddy could have done it."
The universe holds its breath and gives me a break...a big one. The helmet slides in, crackless, and actually works perfectly. Oxygen is no longer a life-threatening problem for Buzz! Best of all, I was the recipient of a breathless moment myself, a moment of awe from two kids. "Ooooooh, thanks Mom!" a big high five. A hug. It was done. I was a rockstar!
Sure it was fleeting. Sure it won't last through the day...but for a few seconds I was a hero. A hero that can't be bought with money. A hero that has to be present in the daily nitty gritty to even get the opportunity. I was the hero that made it all better and it felt great! :)
|Buzz and space helmet among friends.|