I'm not always my best self during/after some of my kids sports competitions. Of course, I expect more from them than I do from their teammates, considering. I'm fully aware of their capabilities --their strengths; their weaknesses, at least I'd like to think so, as their mother.

Oftentimes I push them lovingly ~ academically and athletically (and, in attitude). I desire them to do their very best and fairly earn whatever opportunity awaits an individual who has an impressive work ethic and personal discipline.

My husband and I provide the tools and resources necessary to make life's accomplishments easier to achieve. I mean, why make things harder when life may automatically create hardships naturally.

My eldest (my son) had his share of mommy when she's not at her best. Though athletically (and academically) gifted, rarely did I witness him a peak performance in some of the various sports he was privileged.

Routinely I/we would train him (when it was a sport we were knowledgeable) or hire a private coach. I'd borrow library books and DVD's on whatever sport he was currently participating. We'd encourage him watch instructional videos on YouTube. I'd make sure he'd stay fit with frequent runs and swims and yoga. Was mindful of what he consumed nutritionally.

Being a former aerobics and fitness instructor,  it was often apparent to me what type of routine would benefit and be useful in terms of conditioning in order to excel in a particular sport.

Back then, regretfully, I didn't control my tongue and offer much more encouragement and less ridicule. I had so many fears for his well being and peer acceptance which probably was the source of how I expressed.

To me during that time, the way you compete athletically is an indicator of how you navigate through life. Being repeatedly bullied as a kid myself, I felt it crucial to teach people how to treat you through your performance on the court, in the field or otherwise.

Gradually I learned (and accepted), my son is a very laid back person. Though athletically-abled, his competitive side shines more academically.

Truth is, kids can be mean. And looking back, I realize, mommy's can be too. Bottom line, there is a source to every emotion. Character improves once we become conscious of our own imperfections.

Luckily, my very athletically inclined, no-nonsense daughter is seeing me more at my best. But still, her recent sports competititions have proven, I'm still a work in progress.

Muscle cramps. Intense. Painful.

About four times this month towards the latter part of my dialysis treatments, I've been stricken with awful muscle cramps. Many of the dialysis patients have had them, so when someone is in their form of expressed agony, no one else present that day stares or ask questions. Yeah, the technicians and nurses do their best to offer much needed pain relief from the intensity of the cramping episode by returning some of the fluid that was removed for that days treatment.

Muscle cramps usually occur when too much fluid has been removed (when I weigh in "heavy" before treatments, it is assumed that I overindulged in the forbidden liquid restraint. Too much liquid could mean -- no more blogging from Sage, forever as I risk the eternal realm of seizing to exist).

When these  twisting, muscle bending cramps happen, patient is expected to remain inclined in dialysis chair. Usually the patient is still hooked to the dialysis machine through two, big, long, painful needles on one arm (or in the chest if patient has temporary dialysis catheter - which I had for a year or so), plus a blood pressure monitor on the other arm - as cuff is kept on during entire dialysis treatment to frequently monitor  pressure rise or fall, which can pose a set of other risk in need of immediate attention.

I've had several experiences with these muscle cramps while on dialysis. And each time they are unlike the other, and nothing like your normal muscle cramps where you can still talk easily or sensibly or even coherently.

I talk, no, I scream. Not being a religious person at all, other than the enjoyment of the study of world religions & cultures & philosophies & anything new that I find interesting or enlightening -- for lack of personal ignorance and added intelligence in knowing that there is a plethora of beliefs, ideas on this planet. Everyone does not think or belief or exist like me, and that's okay. Nor does anyone possess a monopoly on what's right/wrong. Or who's good/bad. We all have our own ideas and philosophies, and thankfully most of us are privileged the freedoms to choose what's best for us and our families. Me, I respect and accept and appreciate/celebrate everyone for who they are as individuals. There's no group think necessary for my friendship. I have no desire to change anyone into mini-Sage's. There already is one, me. Honestly, I avoid this topic and have already digressed...

...but, in that moment of shear pain, I call on all the ~ gods (& goddesses). "Oh please help me [insert deity of choice here]. Eventually, and thankfully a trained technician comes to my rescue and begins instructing me to sit down as they proceed to return fluids. Later, my husband (who may have been napping in the car) comes in. Witnessing all the blankets and forms of removable clothing, personal entertainment (my yarn, needles, hooks, books, etc), thrown to the side or sometimes, on the floor. With me defiantly standing or leaning (on tech) as I scream and moan and cry out. Totally vulnerable. Unconcerned what others may think as I become suddenly and unexpectedly crippled in expressed, fearless pain. Reliant on others for my relief for whom I express sincere appreciation, gratitude towards once the dust settles.