Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

He sat perched on the toilet seat lid, skinny leg protruding so that I could clip the jagged claws that he called toenails. He’s nine, but I still use the same baby clippers I used when his feet were the size of cuteness, not the size of ‘I’m going to be a man in the blink of an eye.’

Those tiny clippers still got the job done but probably not as efficiently. And on this particular evening, they even clipped a little too close and drew blood. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey! Here, hold this toilet paper on it.”

The calm, cool, and collected man-boy didn’t flinch, grabbed the toilet paper, and simply replied, “It’s okay, mama.”

But it was too late. The mama had seen the red liquid. And while she tried her hardest to take steady breaths and continue the declawing, such a tedious task required non-blurry vision and a steady hand.

In my defense, there have been other times when the sight of blood did not have this effect on me. You know, those true emergencies when the mama adrenaline kicks into high gear like a racecar sponsored by God and powered by the Holy Spirit. This was not such a moment, thankfully.  

While I placed my fuzzy self up against the bathroom wall and sank deeper into the floor, the daddy came to the rescue and continued the clipping.

“I don’t know why people like you get dizzy with blood,” said the man-boy peering down at me from his toilet-top perch, shaking his head. 

“I can’t help it. It’s just how my body naturally reacts.”

Then without skipping a beat, he simply proclaimed, “Mama. Adapt.”

Say what? When did that word make its way into his vocabulary? 

After stating the definition, convincing me that he did in fact know what he was talking about, I just sat there even dizzier. 

Where have I heard this before? Oh, right, the daddy that was lending a hand. My Marine.

Part of the United States Marine Corps mission statement declares that “Marines are trained to improvise, adapt, and overcome all obstacles in all situations. They possess the willingness and the determination to fight and to keep fighting until victory is assured.”

As I carried on my duties and switched to trimming his fingernails with a different tool - yes, the same tiny scissors from the infant years, if you must know - I felt as though the bathroom had adapted to our conversation and transformed into a philosophical lecture hall. 

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

As a mom (and as a human), I’ve become fairly fluent in improvisation. There’s a reason the term “life hack” is a thing. I’m no MacGyver but I’ve used my fair share of items for something other than their intended purpose. With tools like pool noodles, binder clips, or plastic cups, the possibilities are endless.

And, I’ve overcome obstacles in my life. With a lot of help, I’ve hurdled some doozies. Now, I’m not saying I could go try out for American Ninja Warrior or anything, but I’d say I’m an overcomer.

But do I adapt? 

I don’t have a problem with change. Sometimes I even embrace it. Just ask the rooms in my home who often find their furniture rearranged. But when I look closely at adaptability, I may have some ground to cover. Am I flexible? Do I go with the flow? Am I moldable and teachable? Am I willing to... Let. Go. Of. Control?

Well, I know one thing is certain. It may not be of my own power (same racecar power mentioned previously), but I do “possess the willingness and the determination to fight and to keep fighting until victory is assured.”

And while I know that, thankfully, victory is already assured, and that our battles are against evil, not against flesh and blood - of clipped toes or otherwise - my man-boy has a point. 

Perhaps my first step should be getting him some full-size clippers, and adapting to the fact that he is growing up.

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