My darling 13 month old child, the finicky one, the one who only truly likes noodles and fruit, the one who turns up her nose at milk for heaven’s sake…that one. Yesterday, I turned in the kitchen to find her squatting down, furtively shoving Crisco into her mouth.
Crisco.
Thinking about how I really should write more. I’ve been just cruising along, perusing my reader for months, every day thinking, “man, I could post about that!” and “wow, what a cool story to tell!”
The problem, I think, is that I have those thoughts when I’m a) too sleepy, b) at school, c) annoyed by my too-loud kids, or d) eating dinner. Not really situations conducive to jumping online. So I either need to start writing shit down or making this writing thing a part of my day. Then there’s the whole, “I have no interest in making my blog full of pretty pictures of myself/my kids/my food/my running” thing, which means no one really wants to come around anyway. It’s okay, everyone, I know if I could write, I sure as hell wouldn’t be doing all that grading.
So, I suppose I’ll start with this mini-update:
I’m a runnin’ fool these days. In fact, I PR’d by 3 minutes in a 10K today. I was happy. My legs are tired. In related news, I’ve lost 44 pounds since last December and NO, I’m not anorexic. I just exercise and eat healthily. Weird how that works.
The kids are…kids. Ainsley’s been all over the place and into everything for weeks. Only the last week or so has she been a happy girl – teething sucks. Ryan is quickly morphing into the stereotypical middle child and I feel horrible for it. She starts gymnastics this week. Megan is 14. Do I need to say more? 14. Jesse is the best husband on the planet – there is no one better. Don’t even try to say yours is. 
School? Yeah. I have a job, which is a good thing. I will be making a change in the next year, a hopefully-positive change that will move my career forward. Stay tuned for deets.
Now I’m going to head back to school to chaperone a dance that isn’t mine so that I can use that fact passive-aggressively the whole. rest. of. the. year. So…no, I haven’t grown a heart.
We are just…so lucky. There are about eleventy billion things that can go haywire when it comes to having kids and we are just….lucky. Blessed. I am thankful. I am grateful.
If you’ve known me for any significant length of time, you know that under this “risk taking” exterior, I’m actually sort of comfort-driven. I think it’s the Taurus in me…I just really find solace in knowing what to expect. It doesn’t matter if it’s traveling or kids or school, I like to know what’s coming. I order the same things at restaurants and when I don’t, I usually regret it. This year, for the first time since college, I bought a pair of running shoes that weren’t Nikes (they are Sauconys and I love them).
So you can imagine that it takes something big to get me out of my routine. Today I came to the realization that I have to change it up. For the past couple of months, I’ve been running. A lot for me. Usually 20-28 miles a week. A side effect of upping my mileage is that I didn’t keep lifting and stretching, so my IT band starting getting tight and I started to hurt. So I bought a foam roller and started stretching and it felt better. Not gone, just better. Then I had a week where I didn’t stretch or roll. At all. And I started limping. And it hurt. I started talking to my internet running people and I realized that I probably let that IT band business turn into hip bursitis (or the early stages of it).
It’s not really in the cards/budget/plans to head in for therapy, so I’m working at home on it. Stretches, hip work, some old hurdle drills…and rest. I’ve run once in the last week, which sucks more than I can explain right now. I feel myself getting so close to becoming a slug again. I worry about gaining weight back, about losing fitness, about my new clothes getting too tight. It’s a problem, and I know that. So I’m going to be proactive. I’m going to do what I can.
I’m going to do something new.
Tomorrow morning, I’m pulling on the only swimming-appropriate suit I own and borrowing my husband’s goggles and swim cap. I’m driving to our gym and I’m going to swim. Like a real swimmer. I’m going to do the front crawl. It’s probably going to be hilarious. I have no idea how to do it. I can’t do turns. All I really know how to do is breaststroke. I don’t know what to expect, but I’m going anyway.
Of course, I have a water running workout already in my head if this whole swim thing doesn’t work out, but I have to try this. I need the challenge, I need the workout, I need to move.
Do you ever have those days where you swing from one emotional extreme to another? I just got home from our state student council camp, where I’m reminded that I truly do have the best job in the world. I read my magic notes and cried. I looked at pictures and videos and cried. Those were tears of fulfillment and contentment. Then I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One in preparation for seeing part two tomorrow (whee!) and cried tears of sadness – how can this be over?!??! And that just started this grumpfest of every little thing annoying the ever living fuck out of me.
Doing laundry? Fuck.
Realizing that blood from Ryan’s nosebleed has been on the side of the toilet for two weeks now? Fuck.
I literally cannot walk without limping because my hip hurts so badly? Fuck.
Ainsley won’t just go to sleep when I put her in her crib and she’s almost one? Fuck.
My house is a fucking pigsty? Fuck.
School starts in like five weeks and I have done nothing but work for school all summer? Fuck.
My husband is not really talking to me, so I’m going to be super mature and ignore him right back? Fuck.
But then I feel bad for feeling bad…
My job (even though it is soooo hard) is the best job in the world.
My kids are healthy and beautiful and smart and funny.
Megan is living here. SHE’S LIVING HERE.
My husband truly would walk through hell and back for me.
We have a home.
We have a family that will help us whenever we need anything.
I have a body that can do things that many people don’t even try to do.
I’m blessed with friends that feel like home.
I think I’m just tired. Actually, I think I’m exhausted. I want (and need) a vacation from my “vacation.” Maybe in the next few weeks I’ll find some balance again. :::crosses fingers:::
I taught myself to read when I was only three. Heaven knows my single working mother didn’t have time to teach me. Instead, when she needed a break, she’d plop me in front of Sesame Street and take a well-deserved moment to herself (that part is conjecture of course; since she’s dead, I don’t really know about the “taking a moment” thing. I do know I watched a lot of Sesame Street.). The great part of that stellar parenting move is that I was exposed to some pretty sweet public television programming and I paid a bunch of attention. I remember LOVING Sesame Street, even when I was the ripe old age of 6…only I was watching it because my little sister was (and if you buy that, I’ve got a really cute baby to sell to you).
Sesame Street is a screen full of nostalgia. The best part of it is that it has something for everyone – are you grumpy today? Check out Oscar. Are you feeling magnanimous? Big Bird. Want to save the world? Super Grover!!! You can learn letters, review words, count (ONE! chocolatey chocolate chip cookie!). And apparently you can teach yourself to read. So imagine my excitement that Sesame Street is almost exactly as I remember it! Ainsley is currently standing in front of the television, bouncing up and down in her classic baby dance move and squealing like Team Edward girls at a Twilight premiere, and she’s doing it for a show that I used to do the same thing for almost 40 years ago.
Jesse is going to be working every weekday from 8-5 for the month of July, which means with the exception of state camp next week, I’m going to be a stay at home mom for a few weeks. This scares the bejeezus out of me…there’s a reason I work, ya know. What makes me feel a little better is that for an hour a day, I can turn on this show and see a childhood that I don’t remember and can’t find out about.
Like you needed that post title to remind you. (if you did, then you’re a bad bad kid)
This is a day of up and down, back and forth for me. To sum:
*I have no mother. I haven’t had one for almost 30 years. There’s no other word than “sucks.”
*I am a mother. I know I’m a good one because of what I learned from my own before she left me too soon.
*There’s no pressure for me to perform well on Mother’s Day. I’m free to soak up whatever the hub and kids cook up for me.
*I still have to thank the women in my life who acted as mothers to me: mostly my Auntie Gaye, without whom I would probably be living in a trailer somewhere in bumfuck Wisconsin, fat, with bad teeth and working at the local Rocky Rococo.
I know this day is one of those manufactured holidays…every day should be a mother’s (and father’s) day. My kids are pretty damn good about showing me that they love me on a daily basis and that makes me one of the luckiest women I know. So I want to take today to thank them.
Megan, you make me prouder than you can understand. When I watch you, I am touched by your inner kindness and it makes me laugh when you try to be so much like what everyone else expects, but you can’t do it for very long because you know better – your heart tells you so. I live in fear of your world not being everything you need it to be and want to save you, but know that saving you means letting you be you. You are the child of my youth, of my mistakes, and I couldn’t love you more.
Ryan, the way that I love you cannot be contained in these clumsy words. You are the child of my happiness, of my growth, of my joy. You were conceived in a love that is rare and that radiates in your every act, your every word. There is a bond between us that will transcend time and distance. When I hear you, I hear my voice. When I see you, I view my childhood. When I hold your hand, I complete myself.
Ainsley, I didn’t know I wanted you and I never knew we needed you until you were here. You are the fruition of a mature love that has grown and filled me with such joy as you do. There are so many aspects of you that come from your father, but your eyes tell me that I’ve known you before. Your soul and mine have journeyed together and the anticipation of this new journey fills me with peace.
There have been times in my life when I only stayed alive because of these beautiful girls. There have been times in my life when I wanted to run away because of these beautiful girls! They are my life. They are my loves. They make me a mother.
My sincere love and thanks today to all mothers out there – in whatever form, in whatever shape, in whatever time. Love yourselves today.
I just registered for the random drawing for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon. In October. In San Francisco. On the weekend between Homecoming and Fall Conference. As part of a group of internet acquaintances.
I really want to get in…it would be a great motivation…I’ll meet some new friends…and it will keep me running…there’s a Tiffany necklace at the finish line.
But.
Yikes.
or even good intentions. What’s that about the road to hell?
I was super inspired to get writing again and it actually took for a few days! Yaaaay, me! But then life kicked in to high gear like it always seems to and writing took a back seat like it always seems to. I think I might start putting “update blog” in my calendar like I put my workouts so I actually do them.
Here’s my quandary for the day: What do you do when you accomplish a goal? Do you set more? Do you stop doing what you were doing to achieve the goal? I’m wondering because I’m a goal setter and I seem to get things done when I set a goal, but then what? This past year or so, I’ve set some serious goals and actually followed through:
*stay pregnant and have a baby
*run a half marathon
*become department chair
*have more sex (yes, I quantified it)
*put more into savings
There are more, but these are the highlights. Obviously, I accomplished them and some *wink, wink* are ongoing, but now what? I’ve got the five-year plan (the Ph.D. work, the principalship thing), but what about now? What can I do to find motivation? I’ve never been one to live without a plan – if you’ve been on vacation with me, you know how annoyingly plan-oriented I can be – and I feel like I’m headed there. What happens there? I stop working out. I stop cleaning house. I eat like crap. I teach like it’s my first year again. I watch too much tv. I engage in retail therapy too often.
Don’t get me wrong, living like that for a few days is okay. Being a bum in small doses does a body good. But when that’s all over, what should I do? I’ve registered for a couple of races, but I need something bigger – something not related to running. Of course, I’m going to ponder, wonder, worry about it until I come up with a plan, and I really hope it’s a plan I stick to better than the one I had to write here more.
I just got back from my long run for the week. 10 miles. At 2:30-ish. After only drinking coffee and maybe half a glass of water all day. After eating only my egg white breakfast and a string cheese. I’ll never do that again. My pace line looks like most people’s bracket scores after Louisville blew it. I was 10 seconds per mile slower than last week. Bleh.
In happier news, I’m packing for my DC trip tonight. And later I’m planning on a full recap of my two days as a single mom of two kids. Yikes.
