Life lessons and an unexpected fall

The day before her 18th birthday, my daughter Molly took a nasty spill off her bike, which required a surgical repair of of wrist.

That timing turned out to be interesting from a HIPPA and insurance point of view. She was a minor when she injured the wrist, and a legal adult when she had it surgical repaired. The resulting duplicate paperwork and maddening hoops to get information that had been readily offered just 24 hours before proved to be challenging. Then we had to send her off to her freshman year of college with a soft cast on her wrist. My last little bird flew the nest with a broken wing.

I thought about all that as I wended my way west this weekend for an unexpected trip to Iowa City. Because, the day before Molly’s 27th birthday, she took a nasty spill off her bike and sprained her ankle.

Clearly, Molly will need to Uber in the days leading up to her birthday henceforth.

The circumstances of my spontaneous visit weren’t ideal, especially since Molly teaches her first two classes of the semester tomorrow.

But, I’m always glad to hang out with my girl.

I asked her if she needed me to bring her anything — ice packs? Ace bandages? treats?

She said what she always does in these situations. “Nah, I’m good.”

Naturally, I packed a giant hunk of aged cheddar. I’m a Wisconsin mom.

I also drove our truck so we could haul that traitor bike back to her house.

Despite her injury, we ended up having a really nice time.

And, as always when I hang out with Molly, I picked up a few lessons along the way.

It doesn’t matter what birthday Molly is celebrating, I’m always today years old when I learn a new fact she’s casually mentioned and assumed I’ve known all along.

For instance, she showed me the almond extract she’d made, which smelled amazing. Then she explained that she’d made it from apricot pits because apricots and almonds are from the same genus (along with peaches and cherries). The difference is you eat the fruit of the peaches, apricots and cherries, and you eat the pit of the almond.

I did not know that.

“And,” she said conspiratorially. “Do you want to know what makes the almond extract smell so good?”

I did.

“It’s the cyanide,” she said.

Naturally.

She explained, of course, that there isn’t enough cyanide in almond extract or the occasional apricot pit to make any sick, but isn’t it interesting that cyanide is what makes the extract smell so good?

Fascinating.

In a later discussion about pronunciation, I learned that French words have no tonic syllable. For those of you who, like me, associate tonic with a good gin and a fresh slice of lime, I can tell you that this iteration of the the word refers to the emphasis.

The word adieu is what sparked the conversation and, what I learned from our little tonic lesson is that if you cough out french words like a sneeze, you’ll be pronouncing them correctly.

I think that’s right, anyway.

I’m going to end this little tribute to Molly and her bad luck with bikes, and excellent grasp of nearly every other thing, with a poem her sister Katherine wrote her in honor of Molly’s big day.

How lucky are we mothers to celebrate the births of our little miracles?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOLLY

It is a truth universally acknowledged
that anyone should be in want
of a baby sister like @mollybiscutie

She picks sweet berries & friends
stews tomatoes & on how
the world can make amends

She rolls out dough & deep thoughts
plunges into icy rivers & debates
wins pie contests, writing awards & arguments

She’ll patch up stress into lessons
& Ever After “Just Breathe”
through bravery

On everyone else’s birthday
she’ll place the foraged petals
she picked one by one

atop a cake
she baked that always says
she loves you.