We are so lucky

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.


I’m actually trying something new

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.

One half up, one half down

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:::

This post brought to you by the letter A

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.