Resolution - evolution

I'm not usually one for New Years resolutions.  Personally I think its tough to start a year off with a bunch of changes in the hope to change yourself in 365 days.  For me its much like the notion of a running a marathon having never run before.  Little bit overwhelming.  Ok even a 5k is overwhelming to me!

I do think, however, that it is always good, when given the chance, to reflect on the things we love about ourselves and those we wish to improve upon.

Today I was given the chance to think about one particular way I'd like to evolve. 

My mom called at some point this last week to tell me she'd invited some mutual friends to my parents home for dinner - and would we like to come...hum...would we like to come???

Pause for some background:  The last few weeks have been busy - crazy busy.  Actually more than a couple of weeks.  In fact it seems like since October I've been running pretty much non-stop.  We've been traveling (fun!) and holidaying (fun and stressful!) and attending to normal life stuff.  And...the crucial piece....E has been under an immense amount of stress.  This means long (LONG!) hours.  Frustration.  Days gone.  Late nights.  Tough conversations.  He's been gone a lot - both physically and mentally.   And when he's home I've been in "listening" mode.  Cheerleader.  Supportive wife.   It has been difficult.  For both of us as I've dealt with our normal life and he's focused on his work life.  I'm not complaining.  Its a role we have both played for each other.  Just giving some scope.

So when my Mom called I said I'd think about it....but (and this is the crucial part) my gut said NO!  Partly because I thought about taking the boys down to the hotel Eric is at to swim and spend the night before I have to work tomorrow.  But mostly...because I knew I'd be tired.

But I said I'd think about it.

And when she called again yesterday, in the midst of an incredibly busy day I again said "I'll think about it". 

I didn't follow my gut instinct.

So when she called again today (holy pressure!) and I finally said what I knew all along "No."  I'm whooped.  And while it would be nice to see these friends it would take energy I just don't have right now.

I could tell she was upset.  Or disappointed.  A feeling that would have been lessened had I just said how I felt in the first place. 

And this is a familiar feeling to me.  Knowing that if I'd just said what I needed to at first that the disappointment would be lessened.  Or at least dealt with earlier.  Yet, in an effort to avoid disappointing people, I think I try to stall in hopes that I can find the energy or arrange schedules or do something to fix it so I can avoid the disappointment.  Yet the whole time I ignore my gut instinct.

So that is my hope.  Not necessarily to be completed in a year...maybe it will take more or less time.  I'd like to try and find a way to go with what I know...to be ok with going with my gut.  Even if it means hurt feelings, missed adventures, or the big D word (disappointment).    I'm not sure how to accomplish this...maybe just taking smaller steps...

For now I'm just glad to have identified it...as for the rest of it...well I'm too tired to figure that all out right now :)

Westerdaming It

This post is called Westerdaming It.  What it really should be called is:  how to hit an iceberg and not sink.

But that title is too long.

My kids have been reading about the Titanic.  A short fifteen page book that teaches them the watered down (no pun intended) version of the short life of the RMS Titanic.

This book has led to internet searches, and discussions, in a limited 6 & 7 year old scope, of the seaworthiness of the boat, the changes in nautical technology, and of course the choices made by crew/leadership that ultimately led to the fate of the ship and all her passengers. 

The Titanic and it's iceberg have been on my mind.  The ship.  The iceberg. Sinking.  So I set off this afternoon to find out what boats have hit icebergs without sinking.  Turns out that in just May of this year a cruise boat, the MS Westerdam escaped a Titanic-esque fate when it hit a much smaller iceberg in Alaska.

Combine this research (e.g. internet and 15 page book) with my current state of mind and all I've thought about this afternoon is: how to hit an iceberg and not sink.

Earlier this year I hit an iceberg, metaphorically speaking.  And I feel as though my swim through the blue period has all been a fight against sinking.  Sinking into dark places deep in the ocean of depression and anger and soul destruction.

Ok "the dark places deep in the ocean"- I'm corny, but that's stretching the analogy. 

But really.  How do we keep from sinking?  I'm not really asking anyone.  Just typing aloud. 

Right now the three things that come to mind during this journey for me, that have been my lifeboats (oh there's the damn analogy again) are:

- Service.  Long ago my mother counseled me that if I kept my eye on the world outside me, the world inside me wouldn't seem so hard.  Each time I feel overwhelmed by the feelings inside, or the realization of what has occurred, I turn my thoughts back out and try to put someone else into my focus.  Be it a small act like reading with my children or larger acts for people in much more need than me, it has helped to keep focused.  To keep shifting from self-pity to gratitude.

- E.  Husband.  Hubby.  Hubster.  Whatever you call him.  Long nights.  Even longer discussions.  Perhaps a bit of crying (mine, not his) as I've struggled to understand this journey.  As I've tried to heal.  He is not without his faults.  But he is a man who sees me for my own faults, and loves me just the same.  He's the one, that in my darkest blue has told me that from this will come my brightest yellow.  And given that he has been in pain with this too, it's all the more incredible that he's led the way and held fast.

- Esteem.  I'm not sure what to call this one actually.  In fact I didn't really know of it's existence in this journey until today.  I had an experience, which for a moment set me back.  As I was engaging in my self-therapy I heard myself say out loud (as opposed to the inside voices which engage in most my self-therapy):  This will not define me. 

Unlike the iceberg which will forever be linked to the RMS Titanic, and to sinking ships in general, my iceberg will not sink me.  It will not define me.

My Blue Period

It's been a while.

And I thought to start back off I'd show you something that's been making me happy:



This is my desktop on my home office computer. Sunrise*. I love it. Sometimes I sit and eat my breakfast staring at it. Often times I'm staring at it after already watching the sun rise in real life. Morning is underrated - so many people complain about alarms and getting up in the dark. I get it. Morning is a four-letter word to some folks.

For me though there is nothing like rising before everyone else. Sitting in the cool darkness of a quiet house. Lacing up my running shoes, and heading out. Watching the dark turn shades of blue as the sky grows lighter. The stillness of the morning - quiet roads - warmly lit homes - dogs too tired to pay notice my movements - birds just starting their chatter.

And then the moment. The moment when, much like in this picture, the sun peeks over our Blue Mountain. I always stop...turn off my music...and pause for moments...minutes....and breathe...sometimes cry...it's a beautiful moment. The moment that holds all the days anticipation in it. Nothing is written, nothing is solid. Possibility abounds. It is...impossible to describe. Every morning.

This is my life. A dark period that Eric and I fondly call my Blue Period. Dark for reasons not relevant to this blog. I am learning to love the dark. To love the stillness, and clarity that comes from this phase. And each day, my blue is turning bright. My sun is peeking over the mountain. I am seeing, as cliche as it sounds, the light again.

And then the moment. The moment when, much like in this picture, the light outshines the dark...I always stop...turn off my thoughts...and pause for moments...minutes....and breathe...sometimes cry...it's a beautiful moment. The moment that holds all of my anticipation in it. Nothing is written, nothing is solid. Possibility abounds. It is...impossible to describe.


*one could note that most likely this picture is of a sunset and not a sunrise. Given that I have no idea which is east/west, that's true. But for my intents and purposes, it's a sunrise.

Veteran Traveller

I opened my email yesterday to find this treasure - a story from Brian Andreas:

carries a lot of suitcases but all of them are empty because she's expecting to completely fill them with life by the end of this trip & then she'll come home & sort everything out & do it all again

It happened to come at a perfect moment. I was stressing over the things still left on my to-do list before I leave.

I leave for Kenya in exactly two weeks.

And I'm torn. Torn between being excited for the adventure and completely flipped out over the bits and pieces that need to be taken care of.

The best advice I've been giving (which is good since it was paid advice) is to lean into the experience. Which is what I am trying to do. When I have those moments where the "stuff" is outweighing the excitement I try to visualize myself letting go and leaning in.

Sometimes it works - and sometimes it doesn't. See inside of me I have two fighting personas. One that needs everything planned out and the other that really, really, really wants to be bohemian. Who wants to throw caution to the wind. Like that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Lizzie is standing on the rocks, high above the world, with the wind blowing. She is fully committed to that experience. Oh how I long to stand on those rocks.

I want to take my empty suitcases and fill them, and then head back out again.

Mostly I'm excited. This is huge.

100%

There is my husband.

He's about ten feet away folding laundry.

He just washed the dishes.

He just picked up all of the left-out toys.

This is after a day full of kids, adventures, parties, in-laws, etc.

I'd like to be helping him. Even more I'd like to walk over and say "let me rub your back".

But I'm not. I'm here. Sitting. Tired. Plain worn out.

Wondering. What would it be like to give 100%? I mean, each day I give 100% - more. But never 100% in each facet of my life. I'm never 100% a wife. At best I might hit 75%.

So I wonder.

What would it be like to say I can give 100% as a mom today. To say that I'm not doing anything else but giving 100% to them. Or to him. Or to myself.

Funkifried

I'm in a funk.

I think. I'm not sure really.

I'm doing everything I should be doing.

Running.

Working.

Playing with kids.

Amorous moments with husband I won't divulge online.

Meeting new people.

Chatting with friends.

Still. I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

Perhaps I'm just tired - or fried as it were.

It's been a long five months.

That's it. That's all.

Unfair

This post needs no fancy words...no verbose ramblings of my mind.

It's plain. It's simple.

Cancer sucks.

It makes me want to cry.

It makes me want to never let go of anyone I love.

It makes me completely irrational. Forget anything I've learned about death, disease, and dying. Forget anything about cherishing a good life, even if it's cut short.

It makes me want to be violent.

It makes me want to storm into jails and beat up prisoners who live their lives in comfort after doing heinous things.

Because cancer's brutal truth is it strips life away from good people. Amazing people who live wonderful lives of honesty, truth, and beauty. And it robs them of all that. It does worse than rob - it ravages their very bodies and souls.

Sometimes it spits them out alive to face the world. Sometimes it does not.

It leaves their spouses widows. Their children parentless. Their parents childless.

Cancer is the very essence of unfair.

Damn, it just sucks.

Beyond Caring

StoryPeople is some of my favorite art - the realistic sayings and the out-of-the-box art really jive with me. Bought my first piece about ten years ago...after a random stop in a Santa Barbara store.

Now I receive their "Story of the Day" via email. Some hit home - some make me smile - some make me teary.

This one is dead on:


Copyright StoryPeople

Filled Up

This past week I attended a Forgiveness Ceremony at the church we've been going to. Unsure of what to expect I tried to set low expectations and open my mind up for anything. Even though I myself am a touchy-feely person I'm still not used to all the open symbolism and upfront honesty that comes with UUism.

I wish I could have taken everyone I know with me. We all carry the burdens of not forgiving - be it of ourselves or others - and it was amazing to sit with a group of people and meditate only on letting go.

Prior to going I spent some time thinking through what act of forgiveness I'd like focus on - who I have in my life that I am carrying a grudge or anger towards. Surprisingly I found myself struggling to identify someone.

I think that is because I have been working hard lately at recognizing the acts of graciousness in my life. I am at a place where I feel like each step I made is one surrounded by people I love (or like immensely) and their hands help me each step. I told one of my friends this the other day when I was thanking her for her recent help:

It seems that right now each step I take on my path of life is preceded by someone who lays down the next stone for me to walk on. Some would say this is a Heavenly Father. Some would say it's karma. Honestly, I'm not sure. At this point all I know is that it's some very real people who help make my life easier.

And when I'm faced with that it's harder to find places of anger and resentment because my mind is so aware of how wonderful my life is thanks to the people in it.

In the end I spent my time focusing on myself. Forgiving myself for past mistakes and bad behaviors. For not being where "I should" be in life. It was nice to take that time to heal myself. To forgive, or at least start forgiving, myself.

It's always hardest for me to be grateful for myself. To recognize my own value, and hard work, and strength. So perhaps that is my next challenge. To recognize the work I am doing, not just others, to make my path walkable.

For those who read this, our program for the ceremony included the following quote. I do believe we could all use and do a little more forgiveness, and a lot more gratitude, to find our lives more peaceful:

"I don't know the motives or circumstances that cause another's behavior. I do know that when I hold onto resentment and blame I occupy my spirit with bitterness. Today I will find a more nuturing way to fill myself up."

Pee Wee

I've never been good at understanding sports - so I keep laughing that the only way I can think to explain this, without being specific, is with sports. It probably won't make sense - but I need to get it out.

See, I feel as though I'm playing in the major leagues but with pee wee credentials. I've only been playing this game for a few years now but many of those around are baseball giants. I'm expected to keep up, swing at all those curve balls, bat the home runs, and run like hell each time to home plate.

The coaches are yelling at me to stop - go - slide - steal - hold. Whatever it is coaches say. Or tell the players with their little funny finger wags. And that's part of it too. There are so many signals and signs that I see. Some that I understand, some I don't want to understand, and some completely understandable. And yet, I'm expected to understand them and to make my move from them. And to play in the big league.

And yet, I'm really just this kid. Who doesn't want to be hitting at all. I just want to be playing. I just want to be smiling at my friends as we toss the ball around. Learning how to pitch. Learning how to swing. Learning what moves make sense well.

My time would be best spent back in my league. With my players. With my friends.

And I don't know how to get out of it...and I can't help but feel like I owe it to the major leagues to stay because I'm the only one they recruited.

Misty Mornings

I love mornings. I love having a chance to collect my thoughts (and read blogs) before everyone else gets up. I love listening for the pitter-pat of the boys feet as they search me out. The first hugs of the morning that are warm and strong. Funny conversations, cuddles on the couch, breakfast at a slow, leisurely pace - this is morning.

This morning I rose before everyone else. I wandered through the house. Put a blanket on Eric who had slept in the room with the boys. Tucked the boys back into their bedding, away from the cool morning air. Grabbed my robe and latest book and retreated to the couch.

In most ways this morning is no different than any other one. Tomorrow morning however will be the start of something new. A new out-of-the-home job for me - with hours early in the morning away from the boys.

Will paddled out first this morning. Saw me in the kitchen and ran to get up into my arms.
We cuddled on the couch and I started getting a little teary. He asked if they were "tears of love" which is usually what I tell him. This morning I was honest and said, no these tears were of sadness because I'll miss my morning time with him. He curled right up to me and said "It's not a big deal Mom."

He is right. I consider myself incredibly lucky to have the time with the boys that I do. I get to make a choice. I recognize the value, and cost, of me staying home with the kids...and the value and cost lost of me not working. So this new opportunity is perfect. It allows me to meet some of our family goals with little strain on the boys.

And yet, Will's wrong. Not because giving up my mornings is a big deal. That's not it. It's recognizing that the boys are growing up. They are at a place where who they are with during the day doesn't matter as much as it used to. Most of their basic needs, food, toilet, sleep - are things they can provide for themselves.

I'm not trying to devalue myself - or make it seem like they are past the point of mothering. Rather that as a mom one of the strangest parts of my jobs is that it is constantly evolving. Each new development and phase for them requires a new job description and skill set from me. And this new phase for me also marks a new phase for them. A more independent one.

Oh. I'm going to miss my mornings. What they are. What they signify.

But...for now...for this moment I am going to turn off the computer and tune into my son who just asked me to come play and qualified his request with "...because Mom, playing with me is your favorite thing in the world."

Yes it is.

Upstairs

Oh no.

I can hear my neighbors.

No, not doing THAT.

Yelling at their kid.

"Lay down!" "Put that down!" "Be quiet!"

Which means I can be heard.

And I've been real short on patience with my kids this week.

And have yelled.

I don't want to be judged on what I've said to my kids the past few days. Because I'm not usually that kind of parent.

Perhaps it is horrible to say that not wanting to be heard is a reason for trying to be a better parent. Perhaps.

But mostly, it's a good reminder that who I am really am is who I want to be around all the time.

Even when I've lost patience....

Nerves

My nerves have got the better of me.

I just brushed my teeth for the 2nd time. In ten minutes. Because I forgot I had already. Then 1/2 way through spitting I remembered.

Leaving the workplace, one where I had a heavy emphasis on staff management, I looked forward to the day when I'd be back in the interview chair.

Having stayed at home now for almost five years has provided me with a better look at my strengths and weaknesses (if you prefer to call them that) as well as time to work on myself. These have geared me up for the discussion of why I'm qualified to return to my professional world someday.

For the first time in a long time I am facing an interview chair. In about forty minutes. I should be packing up my kids. Should be driving to drop them off. But no. My nerves have got me.

See, tonight isn't just any interview. It's not for a job. It's for a volunteer position. One that I've thought about and considered since April. Wanted to make sure I was strong enough for it. Could I face my fear of death and dying straight on? Hold it's hand even?

And what's got me nervous? Religion.

This is a hospital that is founded by a religion and run by a religion. Pictures of Jesus grace the hallways. One of my friends who worked there said one of the best things for him is that he can pray and ask for the spirit to be with him and it's not weird.

But see...for me...it kind of is. Not that what they believe is weird, because it isn't. More that they might think what I believe is weird. They might judge me on the basis of my, um, non-religion. They might reject me for it.

They can ask these questions. They can ask them in job interviews and they can certainly ask them in an interview where someone wants to volunteer to work with people at the end of this earthly journey.

And these are questions I haven't prepped five years for. I know I'm strong enough to do this job. I know that I'd bring a lot to the people I would work with as they make their peace. I don't know if I can fully answer a "What do you believe" question....

I hope I can answer them. With truth for me and validity for them.

A Fall First

I'm getting excited for Fall. I've always loved this season - the change in temperatures, the colors in nature, and the chance to pull out clothes from the closet that have been neglected for 1/2 a year.

As you know, if you know me at all, I'm a function over form kind of girl. I wear clothes that allow me to get down and play during the day..and if I look cute then it's a bonus. In short - I look like a stay-at-home-mom. Sometimes I don't mind...sometimes I do.

Now, I've never been into fashion. In fact, two weeks ago at a Girl's Night Out I won a copies of the latest Vogue and Marie Claire - I picked the stack because it came with Root Beer. I didn't even realize the magazines came with it and wasn't quite sure what to do with them. When someone asked - I readily traded them for a salad bowl and hot chocolate. Function.
Then I surprised myself. I bought a purple shirt. Two of them. Both from the clearance rack. I was thrilled for a little color in the line-up of my normal black, brown, white, and red collection.

And then I got a surprise. I look good in purple. And it's one of the Fall fashion colors - as I was told by the woman who traded her root beer for my fashion mags.

So today, for the very firsts time, I looked up the Pantone Fall 2009 Fashion Colors! Here they are in all their glory:

And do you know why I looked them up? To incorporate some into my wardrobe? To mix-match colors with my new purple shirt?

Oh please. I haven't changed that much. I'm going to used them in my digital design projects :) Function.

Now it's time to look up who these Pantone people are and why they get to pick the colors! What a job!

With great power...

The other day I caught up with an old friend. When it was my turn to talk about the news in my life I found myself speaking mostly about my running and triathlon training. Lately that has died down a bit...though I'm working to pick it back up again.

When I finally finished my ten minute long exclamation about running she said "wow. This has been life changing hasn't it."

Yes.

I have no doubt in ten years when I look back at my life I will include this (along with the births of my children, my wedding, my college years, Will's Celiac diagnosis, and the death of my grandpa) as life-changing.

Here is why:

I find myself saying no to things I haven't had strength to before. Like Diet Coke. Like negative thoughts in my head. Like staying in grungy clothes all day.

I find myself saying yes to things I haven't had strength to do before. Like 5ks and triathlons. Like being in pictures. Like talking to strangers without worrying about how I look. Like volunteering at a hospital with people who are dying.

Finding a power I didn't think I have has helped me find power in everything else.

And it's not that I'm power hungry...it's something other than that. It's wanting to take this strength and spread it around.

It's dying to allow myself to live slow. To ride my bike more with the kids strapped in the back. To craft the things I want for the people I love. To spend time, not money.

It's wanting to be strong enough to say "no" to all the little purchases and paying off the god-awful debt so money can go further, later.

It's wanting to be brave enough to saying "yes" to my Mom's offer to join her in Kenya next year for a humanitarian project even though I know once I go there, I won't be able to turn back to life as I know it now.

It's easy...

It's easy to look at what I don't have. Or what I could be. Or what I should be.

I injured my foot running last week. And it spurred up this tornado of emotions. Realizing that I'd have to take time off makes me think about how else to burn my calories which makes me think about the weight I have NOT lost, which makes me think of my clothes, which makes me think of the crappy running shoes I have, which makes me think.....

And yet, in the last few days as I've found myself drifting to that place little reminders (of how wonderful life is, of how much I do have, of what I am, and of who I'm striving to be) keep popping up.

It's always easy to be part of the tornado. To get swept up in the emotions and taken over by them.

So I'm stopping. I've planted my feet back firmly on the ground.

I'm grateful for that. For being able to stop

For reminders like THIS to stop. And reminders like THIS to keep going.

For days with just Walker. Playing cars on the carpet. Listening to his language, watching his hands. Oh, how he grows.

For evenings of solitude that occur without request.

For random YouTube videos that make me laugh or dance or both.

For cool tap water.

For realizing that I can walk or swim or bike even if I cannot run.

For new friends...something I have longed for and am finally allowing.

For me. In all my versions.

It is easy.

Wash, rinse, repeat...

There are moments when the monotony of my life frustrates the hell out of me. I've hesitated to post this because, like most things when written, they feel either (a) more overwhelming or (b) not such a big deal. Or both. And this is both.

Rise early, by myself.
Empty dishwasher.
Work. Usually a self created project.
Internet. Facebook. Perez. Online banking. Blogs.
Drop off spouse (who is most likely running late).
Breakfast. For the kids, homemade. For me, in a cup.
Make the beds. Dishes.
Clothes. For the kids. Me, maybe.
Make lunch. Prep for school.
Clean up toys.
Drop one boy off at school.
Errands, tasks, maybe an "adventure" to the library, or Costco, or some other place I where I can turn an errand into an adventure. The whole time trying to placate the other boy who cannot be happy without a new toy, or chocolate milk, or something else that I seem to always refuse.
Eat lunch.
Wonder if I'm a slacker since I don't post on my blogs...
Pick up the first boy. Try to placate him now too as we pass places I won't stop daily.
Read stories. Try to be a good mom. Try to put the boys first.
Make dinner
Pick up the spouse.
Eat dinner. Mostly together.
Dishes.
Clean-up.
Homework
Baths.
Bedtime for boys.
Run for me. Run for the spouse.
Clean-up.
Tire.
Push myself to stay up doing things I think I should do (email) and things I want to do (The Daily Show).
Bed. Read two pages of an intriguing book.
Sleep.

Wake, stretch, repeat.

The truth is that my life is full of things I love. My spouse. My kids. Running. Reading. New friends. Movies in the park. Bike rides with kids.

And while no one day is exactly the same, there is so much that is true from day to day to day. Some days, it just grates.

Even now, I have a child glued to my side, asking for things, grabbing at my iPod, the computer. "Mom, feed me." "Mom, listen to me." "Mom, he's bugging me." "Mom I need three Band-Aids." Anything. Everything.

Notes on old.

Old.  It's my new four-letter word.  Sure it's only got three letters, but if you say it in my direction you might as well be an f-bomb dropping sailor.

Here are the reasons why:

The Tipper and I

It was in the car when I was first confronted with my growing chronological marker.  I was groovin' to KISS FM when a new song came on.  Always in a quest for a good running tune I was drawn to it's beat and turned up the radio.  I couldn't really hear all the lyrics so I made a note to myself to look it up on iTunes and listen before I bought.  And then, the chorus came on.  "Shush girl, shut your lips, do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips".  Do they even know who Helen Keller was? Ugh - I am so offended by this song!  And it's not the shut your lips use your hips part - I've listened to songs much worse than that and liked them.  It's the "Do the Helen Keller" line.  What?  I mean really - what?And you see, herein lies the problem, I am offended by a pop song!  What?  

Age Spots

In one week I injured my knee, gained some water weight, plucked two gray hairs and got a rash.  Maybe each of these, if separated by time, would not be a big deal.  But together it was enough for me to both cry in the shower AND vow that no husband of mine will ever be changing my diaper.  I'll have Dr. Death on my speed dial.

Senator Boxer* 

The use of the word Ma'am in my direction is becoming a daily occurrence.  If store really wanted to make a return buyer out of me they'd tell their staff to call anyone who looks less than 40 "Miss".  (*click here if you don't get that reference - and yeah, don't get me started on that!)

3.0

On that same note, maybe I do look older than thirty.  My cute Japanese brother told me yesterday, when he was told I was the big 3-0, said "You don't look 30" and for a moment I worried he'd say he thought I was older.

Tick, tock, THUMP, POUND:

My biological clock is pounding.  Nope, not ticking.  Pounding.   Neither of my two children were created because my bio clock told me it was time.  I wanted a baby - but there was no sudden URGE to have one.  There were alternative factors at (or not at) work.  But now  I see babies everywhere, except with me.  Everyone's having them, everyone's doin' it.  They're the new fall accessory and my retail store is closed!  Not to mention that in my youth making the decision to have a baby was as easy as flipping a coin.  Whether or not it should have been this easy is another conversation.  Now, as a wizened 30 year-old I cannot just say "because it feels right".  

Five and Four:

Nothing makes you feel older than noting the age of your children.  I'm sure my mother would agree.  Will starts Kindergarten in one month.  Kindergarten.  Will.  Me with a Kindergartner.  3rd grade, 6th grade, 12th grade - they'll all be here before I know it and I'll be sitting at this blog (if I remember my password then) crabbing about their age.  Not to mention that my baby, my BABY will be four in two months.  Four.  It doesn't seem like much when I type it, but when I hold him and feel his oh-so-not-a-baby body, my heart sinks.  It's going too fast.

Generation Gap Close:

Icons from my generation have started to die.  I hate to say it, it's only gonna get worse.  MJ dying was a real eye-opener for me this week and not just because of the reaction noted worldwide.  Parts of my childhood are set to the tune of his genius.  Parts of my ascension to adulthood are chronicled by his regression back to childhood. Thanks MJ, for the good, and the Bad.

There is no such thing...

There is no such thing as a stupid question.

Oh wait.  Yes there is.  One.  

"Are you pregnant?"

Actually most of the time it comes out as a statement, not a question.  As in the one my neighbor made to me tonight as I was walking, totally exhausted, carrying a sleeping child, while wearing my bathing suit.

She said "Oh, so you're pregnant."

We stopped to talk about her move (to the apartment above us) and the curiousness that stems from a move.   She stole a quick look at my belly and attempted to confirm her suspicion.

I guess my possible pregnancy has been the topic of conversation, along with my upcoming triathlon and whether or not I should do one while pregnant, between she and my other neighbor.

I like both of these ladies...but please.  COME ON!  I can think of so many other ways of figuring out if someone is pregnant or not without asking directly.  Like:  "So, you ever think of having more kids?"  or "Two boys, wanna have another and see if you can get a girl?"

Or, just don't ask.

But, if you do.  Do not, under any circumstances follow it up with the statement of "Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean anything by it."

Yes you do.  You mean I look pregnant.  You mean that the six to nine miles a week I am running (not to mention the biking and swimming) aren't doing squat for the belly I acquired from two babies in two years, a year (or two) of less than stellar eating, and, let's face it, genetics.  I already know that.  Trust me, I already know it.  

It's ok that you thought it.  It's not ok that you asked it.  Keep the stupid questions to yourself.  

Tis a gift...

Dear Shell,

The last few days a strange phenomenon has occurred.  Life has been simple.  You have chosen simplicity, and in doing so, sanity.  That isn't to say that life hasn't been busy.  It has. Wonderfully busy.  Yet somehow you've managed to keep things simple and beautiful.  So here's a reminder of some of the things you done, sometimes on accident, and loved:

When you start being overwhelmed, slow down.  Take a few deep breaths.  Start with one step instead of looking at the big picture.  

Play with your kids.  Each evening you've stopped the "work" to play.  You do a good job of caring and educating them throughout the day - but you love to play.  And they need to see you do it.

Be outside.  It rained this week, and you played in it.  You threw your normal caution to the wind - not to mention your fear of messes.  The boys thought they'd won the jackpot to be outside IN the rain.  It was such a simple pleasure.

Speaking of messes - they clean up rather fast.  And the making of them often changes the mood of the entire family.  Make more messes.  

Put your nose into books more and less into the computer.  You went TV free for a reason. Remember what image you want the boys to see of you, and what you don't.

Dinners can be simple.  You've cooked each meal - even on the days when you wanted to just grab something.  The truth is that the boys won't remember what they are fed as much as they remember that we all sat down together.  And talked.  And that mom was happy during dinner.

Nothing has to be big...it just has to be.

And lastly, you love to run.  Yep, you do. Can you believe it?  I cannot either...but it's true.

Love,

Me