A few months ago, Diet Coke launched a new ad campaign. They had people walking around, talking about different things people could do, then adding, "Because I Can". One ad featured a woman who said, "If you want to run a marathon, I mean, that sounds super hard, but OK." I adored the ad because a) I LOVE Diet Coke. And b) because I was training for a marathon.
At age 48, I ran a 5k with my son. I decided I didn't hate it and that to prepare for my upcoming 50th birthday, I would run a 5k race every month for a year. So, I did. Then I decided I should run a half marathon before turning 50. So, I did! Then I decided I should run a full marathon, 26.2 miles, before turning 51. That's when the Diet Coke ads came out. That's when I started saying, "Because I Can". I even wrote "Because I Can" on my arm to motivate me during my marathon.
In November of 2017, I started training for the marathon. I signed up for a May race. I had 6 months to go from being able to run 13.1 miles, to 26.2 miles. Because I Could. I followed my training schedule pretty closely. I used the training plan Rundisney puts out. It has you running 3 days a week and allows for walk breaks. I set my goal... 4:44. I choose that goal time because that is the average marathon finish time for women.
I learned a lot about my body, my abilities, running in general, and recovery. I learned how much practicing something does help. I shaved off two minutes from my fastest one mile sprint. I learned that running a marathon is largely a mental game, and that I self sabotage. My mind gives out long before my body. I learned that I am a salty sweater. I could feel salt on my face post run. I left salt marks on my black clothing. The worst was the salt I sweat would rub against my sports bra, leaving sores all around my mid section. Glide became a must. I also kept getting blisters on my feet, until I read a blog that suggested applying Aquaphor to your feet before putting on socks. This was a huge discovery and has changed my pre-run routine. It's amazing! I learned about a muscle in your buttocks region called the piliformis. When inflamed it puts pressure on your sciatica. It seems to take a long time to heal once bothered. I haven't been patient enough to let it fully heal. I learned the value of rest days, and to enjoy stretching. I invested in a foam roller. I became conscientious about the food I was eating, and started viewing it as fuel. I drank more water. I could feel a difference in my runs if I wasn't as hydrated, or had eaten some junk. I learned to remember sunscreen application, but still have odd tan lines from running pants and sports bras. I took better care of my feet, and kept my toenails short (only scoring one black toenail in 6 months of training!) I learned that carrying a handkerchief was easier and more durable than Kleenex. Chapstick is a must carry during runs, and gummy bears are a favorite energy supplier for long runs. I discovered that paying $24.95 for a single pair of socks may sound outrageous, but the added arch support they provided was worth the price. I invested in a pair of recovery shoes (Made by Oofas) and while they aren't cute, they are so incredibly comfortable. They made a HUGE difference after long runs.
The two weeks before the race, I only took walks, no running. My piliormis muscle was very achy and I didn't want to anger it further. I stretched daily. Focused on my nutrition and hydration. Race day arrived. I left the house at 3:30am to get a good parking spot. I was ready.
I found a pacer group that was going to finish in 4:45. I ran with them for 14 miles. Then I fell back. I had trained for running two miles, walking one minute, and the group never walked. I just couldn't hang with them. Several things happened then; once I separated from the group, I felt alone. I noticed the drizzling rain, and that I was cold and my knee hurt. Then I just kept walking instead of running. Then my brain would get bored and remind me how dumb this was to attempt at age 50. Miles 16 to 20 were a real struggle. Not physically, my lungs were not tired. My feet were only slightly achy. My back felt fine. My shoulders ached from being cold from the rain, but otherwise, physically I felt good! At mile 20 I decided to use the porta potty, thinking emptying my bladder would give me one less thing to think about. SURPRISE! My period started. I was unprepared. So now I'm in a porta potty, (something I usually try to avoid at all costs.) on mile 20 of a marathon, and my period is here with no protection. I folded up toilet paper like a pad, and left the porta potty. Only 6 more miles...
I walked and ran for 2 miles, when I suddenly had a burst of energy. I ran the last 4 miles. I think I smiled for that whole time...mainly grateful I survived miles 16-20. I finished 27 minutes slower than my goal. I was pretty disappointed. It took several days to forgive myself and accept that finishing something I started, and completing a marathon, where still big accomplishments. That was the moment I knew I'd train for another marathon.
My take way is that next time I will run the race the way I trained, taking my walk breaks earlier. I will engage in conversation with ANYONE starting at mile 16 to hopefully keep my mind occupied, and I will tie a jacket around my waist in case of inclement weather to avoid the sore shoulders from being cold.
The most important lesson I learned is that it's OK for me to take time out to do something just for me. The pride I had in myself for completing the race was a new and exhilarating feeling. For a week, I told anyone I encountered about my achievement. It's funny how many times you can sneak "I just ran a marathon" into a random conversation. I was just SO proud! I can't wait until the next race...
Monday, July 9, 2018
Monday, June 1, 2015
I Would Walk 500 Miles
"I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 hundred more, just to"*...win a contest. I learned something recently about myself that really surprised me. I am very competitive. (I am also a great procrastinator, which may be why I jumped into this walking thing...keep reading...)
My work decided to have a little step challenge. Interested people could wear pedometers, record their steps, submit them weekly. The goal was to get to 400,000 steps in just short of 6 weeks. A cute display was posted in the hallway. It looked like a mountain and had different step markers on it. (50,000 steps, 100,000 steps, etc.)They handed out a paper athletic shoe to decorate. I didn't like the way it looked, so I colored mine on the reverse side, and added a real ribbon for a lace. I also did some quick math. The American Heart Association recommends everyone take 10,000 steps a day. So, I would need 40 days to get to the top of the mountain. No problem. The "contest" was running for exactly 40 days. I could finish this!
I knew from previously wearing a pedometer, that I walked about 8,000 steps on a work day, and about 2,500 steps on the weekends. I started by parking further out in parking lots, taking stairs instead of elevators, walking during my recess duty stints (I work at an elementary school), taking the long way to get anywhere, making two trips up the stairs or in from grocery shopping. I just started walking more whenever possible. That first week, I had accumulated 99,108 steps by 9pm Sunday! That was way over my original goal! But, there was also a problem. I was so close to 100,000 steps. So, I did what any OCD type would do, I walked the halls of my house until I was at 100,000. I proudly turned in my step count on Monday and waited to see where my paper shoe would be on the mountain.
Well, my shoe was the highest on the mountain! As I was admiring my cute shoe, facing the opposite direction of everyone else's (because I used the backside of the drawing...), a student asked me if the shoes were heading up or down the mountain. I told him "Up." He said "Looks like only one is going that way!" Made my day, and I made up my mind that I liked this challenge. Game on!
My son attends the same school that I work in. He noticed my backwards shoe on the mountain too. He liked that it was being the leader.
The next week some interesting things happened. I decided I needed to walk 100,000 steps again this week. I made the goal of 15,000 steps a day. I became very good at knowing how many steps certain walks were in my neighborhood. I found an extra hour to walk everyday. I started drinking more water. I was sleeping better. I was happier. My son and I enjoyed an hour of uninterrupted talk time every night, because he would ride his bike with me as I walked. I also had some achy muscles.
The achy muscles subsided during week three, and my shoe stayed on top of the mountain climb. I finished week three with over 300,000 steps. Then, a strong competitor went on vacation. She walked, and walked and walked. Because many of us have "Fitbits", we could keep track of each others daily totals and didn't have to wait for the weekly totals to be posted on the mountain. On Friday of week 4, I was behind by 7,000 steps. I had to make them up over the weekend.
Here's what I need to mention...I think I became obsessed with this step challenge because what I REALLY needed to do was prepare for my daughter's high school graduation. By "prepare" I mean, we were painting the exterior of our house, and re-landscaping the entire backyard. I was also trying to make a t-shirt quilt and a photo album for her. Uh-huh, I was focusing on the step challenge because the reality of my daughter graduating was just too much. Too much out of my control, too many feelings, too much to do. But walking, I could do that. So, this 7,000 step deficit, two weekends before graduation, not a great thing...but, giving up my lead after three weeks on top? No way! So, I woke up early over the weekend, got my steps in (including one day of 21,000 steps) and managed to stay on top.
I kept close tabs during week five on my competitors. And week six, last week, was the week of graduation. I was physically, and emotionally exhausted. I turned in my final totals today and I am awaiting the results. I think I climbed the highest on the mountain. I think I conquered the challenge. Even if I didn't though, I have walked 250 miles in the last 40 days. I found an hour everyday that I never before knew existed. I spent quality time with my son. I gained 5 pounds (OK, not a good thing...but, it happened), and I just plain feel better.
The official challenge is over, so I'm not working as hard to get a certain number of steps each day, but, I am trying to keep moving, trying to walk an hour each day after work. I'm hoping to continue drinking more water, maybe that will eventually lead to me eating better. Baby steps. I'll still walk 500 miles, but my baby steps will just take me a bit longer to get there.
* Excerpt from The Proclaimers song
My work decided to have a little step challenge. Interested people could wear pedometers, record their steps, submit them weekly. The goal was to get to 400,000 steps in just short of 6 weeks. A cute display was posted in the hallway. It looked like a mountain and had different step markers on it. (50,000 steps, 100,000 steps, etc.)They handed out a paper athletic shoe to decorate. I didn't like the way it looked, so I colored mine on the reverse side, and added a real ribbon for a lace. I also did some quick math. The American Heart Association recommends everyone take 10,000 steps a day. So, I would need 40 days to get to the top of the mountain. No problem. The "contest" was running for exactly 40 days. I could finish this!
I knew from previously wearing a pedometer, that I walked about 8,000 steps on a work day, and about 2,500 steps on the weekends. I started by parking further out in parking lots, taking stairs instead of elevators, walking during my recess duty stints (I work at an elementary school), taking the long way to get anywhere, making two trips up the stairs or in from grocery shopping. I just started walking more whenever possible. That first week, I had accumulated 99,108 steps by 9pm Sunday! That was way over my original goal! But, there was also a problem. I was so close to 100,000 steps. So, I did what any OCD type would do, I walked the halls of my house until I was at 100,000. I proudly turned in my step count on Monday and waited to see where my paper shoe would be on the mountain.
Well, my shoe was the highest on the mountain! As I was admiring my cute shoe, facing the opposite direction of everyone else's (because I used the backside of the drawing...), a student asked me if the shoes were heading up or down the mountain. I told him "Up." He said "Looks like only one is going that way!" Made my day, and I made up my mind that I liked this challenge. Game on!
My son attends the same school that I work in. He noticed my backwards shoe on the mountain too. He liked that it was being the leader.
The next week some interesting things happened. I decided I needed to walk 100,000 steps again this week. I made the goal of 15,000 steps a day. I became very good at knowing how many steps certain walks were in my neighborhood. I found an extra hour to walk everyday. I started drinking more water. I was sleeping better. I was happier. My son and I enjoyed an hour of uninterrupted talk time every night, because he would ride his bike with me as I walked. I also had some achy muscles.
The achy muscles subsided during week three, and my shoe stayed on top of the mountain climb. I finished week three with over 300,000 steps. Then, a strong competitor went on vacation. She walked, and walked and walked. Because many of us have "Fitbits", we could keep track of each others daily totals and didn't have to wait for the weekly totals to be posted on the mountain. On Friday of week 4, I was behind by 7,000 steps. I had to make them up over the weekend.
Here's what I need to mention...I think I became obsessed with this step challenge because what I REALLY needed to do was prepare for my daughter's high school graduation. By "prepare" I mean, we were painting the exterior of our house, and re-landscaping the entire backyard. I was also trying to make a t-shirt quilt and a photo album for her. Uh-huh, I was focusing on the step challenge because the reality of my daughter graduating was just too much. Too much out of my control, too many feelings, too much to do. But walking, I could do that. So, this 7,000 step deficit, two weekends before graduation, not a great thing...but, giving up my lead after three weeks on top? No way! So, I woke up early over the weekend, got my steps in (including one day of 21,000 steps) and managed to stay on top.
I kept close tabs during week five on my competitors. And week six, last week, was the week of graduation. I was physically, and emotionally exhausted. I turned in my final totals today and I am awaiting the results. I think I climbed the highest on the mountain. I think I conquered the challenge. Even if I didn't though, I have walked 250 miles in the last 40 days. I found an hour everyday that I never before knew existed. I spent quality time with my son. I gained 5 pounds (OK, not a good thing...but, it happened), and I just plain feel better.
The official challenge is over, so I'm not working as hard to get a certain number of steps each day, but, I am trying to keep moving, trying to walk an hour each day after work. I'm hoping to continue drinking more water, maybe that will eventually lead to me eating better. Baby steps. I'll still walk 500 miles, but my baby steps will just take me a bit longer to get there.
* Excerpt from The Proclaimers song
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Christmas, in June?
It's 1:oo in the morning. In June. What's on my mind? Christmas cards.
I was thinking about if it is still proper to sign my son's name to birthday and Christmas cards. He graduated from college, lives in another state, and is financially independent. I can't even claim him on income taxes, so can I, or should I, sign his name on cards?
By not signing his name, will people wonder,"What happened to DJ? " or will they realize it was time to let him sign his own cards. Will they think he's rude when he doesn't sign a card, because he likely won't send one? Such a dilemma.
Which turns to the next 1:00 in the morning worry. The Christmas card photo. We just returned from a family vacation. It was the first time all four of my kids were together in a year. I must have had them pose two dozen different times for a potential Christmas card photo. They were good sports. At least until I tried to get a photo of the six of us. The kids would not cooperate! It would go like this; someone would take a photo because I asked them to, I'd look at the photo,I would hate how I looked, ask them to try another. Not a big deal. I don't know why the kids fought it so much. We only "tried again" twice, or six times,(ok, once it was ten times) each 'session' I had us all pose, over the four days. So, I may or may not have a nice, all of us together, Christmas card photo.
Here's something else my 1:00 in the morning thoughts have alerted me to...that family vacation? Yeah, that was my entire family. All 13 of us. Parents, brothers, sisters in law, a niece, plus my group. Did I worry about the 13 of us? No. Not until 1:00 in the morning, 10 days later. It wasn't until now, that I stopped to think that it's been, hmmm, I don't even know, maybe four years since the 13 of us have been all together? Wow. That's awful. And that brings me to this 1:00 in the morning thought...when did I get so "it's all about me?"
This is kind of an ugly truth about me, I think I have always been like that. Not in a "the world revolves around me" way, or a "what's in it for me" way, but just thinking about me, worrying about me. Not to the exclusion of others, but certainly, not putting others first. Not even being aware of others and their daily stuff. Being a parent, I do put my kids and their needs before mine, (Unless I'm on a plane, then my oxygen mask goes on before theirs.) but, it's about me more in the way that I always try to relate other people's stories to me. I thought this showed that I was interested, and could understand what they were saying. Mainly it's just annoying, and I try to make a conscience effort to not do that as much anymore. Mostly, my tongue bleeds a lot.
So, now I'm feeling bad that I didn't make a bigger deal about all 13 of us being together, that I was simply focused on the six of us getting a Christmas card photo taken. I don't even know if I sign my son's name to a Christmas card that I'm not even going to send out for six months. And now it's quarter after one, I'm all alone , and I need, I need to stop quoting song lyrics and go to sleep. The alarm is set to go off in four and a half hours.
P.S. Can you do a "P.S." in a blog?
I really like to write. I have found that I do better with writing when the inspiration hits me though, not writing notes and going back to it. (I have piles of craft projects that "I'll get back to")but, at 1:00 in the morning, turning on the computer seemed too hard. Queue my new 'smart phone'! Yes, I finally made the leap to a fancy smart phone and it has this wonderful "memo" function and I could type this whole thing into it at 1:00 in the morning with little effort! (Even better, it looks like I may be able to SPEAK into it and it will type! But at 1:00 in the morning that may have creeped out my family.)
Anyway, last night I went to bed at 10:30, and woke up to horrendous noises that turned out to be snoring. (It's OK, he thinks the problem was he was sleeping on two pillows, so tonight he is going to try one pillow under his head and one over his face. It's fine.)Then I remembered my dream. It involved my grandparents cleaning out their garage and giving me a trailer hitch. My grandparents passed away in 1986 and 1991. (For the record, Dream Dictionary could not find anything about "deceased grandparents" or "trailer hitch".) And this is a perfect example of it all being about me...I can remember the dates because I had just moved with my parents across country when my Grandma passed away in 1986, and my Grandpa passed away months before my son was born. My other Grandpa died December 7th, the year September 11th happened. Do I know that year? No, I do not. Horrible. It is embarrassing. I think I am a caring, kind person, but this trait must get repaired. In the meantime, I need to figure out if DJ's name goes on the Christmas card, and maybe get back to some of those craft projects...right after I take a nap!
I was thinking about if it is still proper to sign my son's name to birthday and Christmas cards. He graduated from college, lives in another state, and is financially independent. I can't even claim him on income taxes, so can I, or should I, sign his name on cards?
By not signing his name, will people wonder,"What happened to DJ? " or will they realize it was time to let him sign his own cards. Will they think he's rude when he doesn't sign a card, because he likely won't send one? Such a dilemma.
Which turns to the next 1:00 in the morning worry. The Christmas card photo. We just returned from a family vacation. It was the first time all four of my kids were together in a year. I must have had them pose two dozen different times for a potential Christmas card photo. They were good sports. At least until I tried to get a photo of the six of us. The kids would not cooperate! It would go like this; someone would take a photo because I asked them to, I'd look at the photo,I would hate how I looked, ask them to try another. Not a big deal. I don't know why the kids fought it so much. We only "tried again" twice, or six times,(ok, once it was ten times) each 'session' I had us all pose, over the four days. So, I may or may not have a nice, all of us together, Christmas card photo.
Here's something else my 1:00 in the morning thoughts have alerted me to...that family vacation? Yeah, that was my entire family. All 13 of us. Parents, brothers, sisters in law, a niece, plus my group. Did I worry about the 13 of us? No. Not until 1:00 in the morning, 10 days later. It wasn't until now, that I stopped to think that it's been, hmmm, I don't even know, maybe four years since the 13 of us have been all together? Wow. That's awful. And that brings me to this 1:00 in the morning thought...when did I get so "it's all about me?"
This is kind of an ugly truth about me, I think I have always been like that. Not in a "the world revolves around me" way, or a "what's in it for me" way, but just thinking about me, worrying about me. Not to the exclusion of others, but certainly, not putting others first. Not even being aware of others and their daily stuff. Being a parent, I do put my kids and their needs before mine, (Unless I'm on a plane, then my oxygen mask goes on before theirs.) but, it's about me more in the way that I always try to relate other people's stories to me. I thought this showed that I was interested, and could understand what they were saying. Mainly it's just annoying, and I try to make a conscience effort to not do that as much anymore. Mostly, my tongue bleeds a lot.
So, now I'm feeling bad that I didn't make a bigger deal about all 13 of us being together, that I was simply focused on the six of us getting a Christmas card photo taken. I don't even know if I sign my son's name to a Christmas card that I'm not even going to send out for six months. And now it's quarter after one, I'm all alone , and I need, I need to stop quoting song lyrics and go to sleep. The alarm is set to go off in four and a half hours.
P.S. Can you do a "P.S." in a blog?
I really like to write. I have found that I do better with writing when the inspiration hits me though, not writing notes and going back to it. (I have piles of craft projects that "I'll get back to")but, at 1:00 in the morning, turning on the computer seemed too hard. Queue my new 'smart phone'! Yes, I finally made the leap to a fancy smart phone and it has this wonderful "memo" function and I could type this whole thing into it at 1:00 in the morning with little effort! (Even better, it looks like I may be able to SPEAK into it and it will type! But at 1:00 in the morning that may have creeped out my family.)
Anyway, last night I went to bed at 10:30, and woke up to horrendous noises that turned out to be snoring. (It's OK, he thinks the problem was he was sleeping on two pillows, so tonight he is going to try one pillow under his head and one over his face. It's fine.)Then I remembered my dream. It involved my grandparents cleaning out their garage and giving me a trailer hitch. My grandparents passed away in 1986 and 1991. (For the record, Dream Dictionary could not find anything about "deceased grandparents" or "trailer hitch".) And this is a perfect example of it all being about me...I can remember the dates because I had just moved with my parents across country when my Grandma passed away in 1986, and my Grandpa passed away months before my son was born. My other Grandpa died December 7th, the year September 11th happened. Do I know that year? No, I do not. Horrible. It is embarrassing. I think I am a caring, kind person, but this trait must get repaired. In the meantime, I need to figure out if DJ's name goes on the Christmas card, and maybe get back to some of those craft projects...right after I take a nap!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
The One With The Clever Title
Some very real things have happened today. So real, that I had to take off my bracelet and write about them.
I woke up this morning and got ready for the day, just like usual. Except today I had my volunteer shift at my son's school for his running club. Afterwards, I was distracted by one of my favorite couples, and we chatted about my oldest child's successes and screw ups, and the lovely weather. We were interrupted by the school's fire drill (we were standing outside in the aforementioned lovely weather.) As the people I was chatting with and I decided to part ways before being mobbed by the students and teachers fleeing the building for the fire drill, I ran into another one of my favorite people, one of my youngest's teachers. Her and I chatted about her recent hair color change, and the little pompom critters she is making and handing out for quiet behavior.
My son has earned a quiet critter, and had spent the weekend creating a house and a cage for the critter. He also made a few more pompom critters. They have consumed quite a bit of his time. So, I had to thank the teacher for her creativity. The fire drill didn't last as long as my free time, or my chatting gene. I walked home.
I thought about how to spend my day on the short walk. I decided to watch some taped episodes of "Sex and the City". I am newly obsessed with the show. I didn't watch it when it originally aired. (Starting in 1998!) I have watched all six seasons, plus both movies, in the last several weeks. I had found the complete series of dvd's at a garage sale this summer. Even though I have all the dvd's, I was thrilled to find out that the show airs for two hours daily on TV. I'm recording it. I don't know why. I am obsessed. I also thought about what was I going to have for lunch.
I decided to have a peanut butter and jelly. I know, original. I keep my bread in the freezer, so I popped two slices in the toaster, and proceeded to get out the butter and jelly. Once in the fridge, some leftovers caught my eye. I decided that sounded yummy. I heated up the leftovers. It wasn't until later, when I could smell something burning, that I remembered I was going to have PB&J. My brain is going to mush.
Yesterday I found a sombrero for my dog. He is a chihuahua. Today, while watching reruns of "Sex and the City" that I watched only a few weeks ago, I crocheted a striped poncho for my dog, to match his sombrero.
I couldn't help but wonder, when one spends a morning chatting and watching reruns and crocheting her dog a poncho, is it time to find a job? Or is it OK to spend your day considering your lunch options and waiting to accumulate lives on Candy Crush?
Well, that's a bummer. When Carrie Bradshaw asks her computer a question like that, she materialises in amazing shoes at a diner with her friends...I'm still here, barefoot, looking at a kitchen sink full of dishes.
But seriously, maybe it's time, once again, to look for a job. The problem is this, ten years ago (yikes! I can't believe it's been that long ago!) I had a great job. The hours were perfect, it was close to home, I liked the work and loved the people I worked with. Then I got pregnant and we moved across the country. (Not because of the pregnancy, it was just a coincidence.) Since having that great job, all others compare to it. I have had seven jobs over the past ten years...nothing has even come close to the great job. Do we only get one great job in a lifetime?
I am not opposed to working, but my available hours are limited. My kids are off for a week in October (which means I need to be off for a week in October.) They are off for a week in November. And, the deal breaker for a job right now, I need a week off in December for my oldest's college graduation. I know many retail places are hiring right now, to prepare for the Holiday shopping season, and I like working retail, it's even what I went to school for, but a week off ten days before Christmas? Deal breaker.
I do have to wonder, do I want a job for me, or because society makes me think I need one? That is something to ponder. I like being an old-fashioned, stay at home mom, even on the mostly boring days. Oh, never mind that, my bank account says it's time to get a job. It's too bad Carrie Bradshaw can't hire me to organize her closet.
I woke up this morning and got ready for the day, just like usual. Except today I had my volunteer shift at my son's school for his running club. Afterwards, I was distracted by one of my favorite couples, and we chatted about my oldest child's successes and screw ups, and the lovely weather. We were interrupted by the school's fire drill (we were standing outside in the aforementioned lovely weather.) As the people I was chatting with and I decided to part ways before being mobbed by the students and teachers fleeing the building for the fire drill, I ran into another one of my favorite people, one of my youngest's teachers. Her and I chatted about her recent hair color change, and the little pompom critters she is making and handing out for quiet behavior.
My son has earned a quiet critter, and had spent the weekend creating a house and a cage for the critter. He also made a few more pompom critters. They have consumed quite a bit of his time. So, I had to thank the teacher for her creativity. The fire drill didn't last as long as my free time, or my chatting gene. I walked home.
I thought about how to spend my day on the short walk. I decided to watch some taped episodes of "Sex and the City". I am newly obsessed with the show. I didn't watch it when it originally aired. (Starting in 1998!) I have watched all six seasons, plus both movies, in the last several weeks. I had found the complete series of dvd's at a garage sale this summer. Even though I have all the dvd's, I was thrilled to find out that the show airs for two hours daily on TV. I'm recording it. I don't know why. I am obsessed. I also thought about what was I going to have for lunch.
I decided to have a peanut butter and jelly. I know, original. I keep my bread in the freezer, so I popped two slices in the toaster, and proceeded to get out the butter and jelly. Once in the fridge, some leftovers caught my eye. I decided that sounded yummy. I heated up the leftovers. It wasn't until later, when I could smell something burning, that I remembered I was going to have PB&J. My brain is going to mush.
Yesterday I found a sombrero for my dog. He is a chihuahua. Today, while watching reruns of "Sex and the City" that I watched only a few weeks ago, I crocheted a striped poncho for my dog, to match his sombrero.
I couldn't help but wonder, when one spends a morning chatting and watching reruns and crocheting her dog a poncho, is it time to find a job? Or is it OK to spend your day considering your lunch options and waiting to accumulate lives on Candy Crush?
Well, that's a bummer. When Carrie Bradshaw asks her computer a question like that, she materialises in amazing shoes at a diner with her friends...I'm still here, barefoot, looking at a kitchen sink full of dishes.
But seriously, maybe it's time, once again, to look for a job. The problem is this, ten years ago (yikes! I can't believe it's been that long ago!) I had a great job. The hours were perfect, it was close to home, I liked the work and loved the people I worked with. Then I got pregnant and we moved across the country. (Not because of the pregnancy, it was just a coincidence.) Since having that great job, all others compare to it. I have had seven jobs over the past ten years...nothing has even come close to the great job. Do we only get one great job in a lifetime?
I am not opposed to working, but my available hours are limited. My kids are off for a week in October (which means I need to be off for a week in October.) They are off for a week in November. And, the deal breaker for a job right now, I need a week off in December for my oldest's college graduation. I know many retail places are hiring right now, to prepare for the Holiday shopping season, and I like working retail, it's even what I went to school for, but a week off ten days before Christmas? Deal breaker.
I do have to wonder, do I want a job for me, or because society makes me think I need one? That is something to ponder. I like being an old-fashioned, stay at home mom, even on the mostly boring days. Oh, never mind that, my bank account says it's time to get a job. It's too bad Carrie Bradshaw can't hire me to organize her closet.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Ready Or Not, Here We Go!
We decided to spend our summer vacation in Nashville,Tennessee. We decided to purchase tickets for the Country Music Festival (CMA's) for my husband and I, our four kids, and our oldest child's girlfriend. We decided to do this right before LP field was sold out. We bought the last seven tickets that were together. All other seats in the stadium were onesies or twosies. The tickets were in the very, last, row of the stadium. Let me repeat that...the VERY.LAST.ROW of a stadium that the NFL team, the Tennessee Titans, play their games. (We did have a great view of the river,downtown Nashville and the belly buttons of birds.) We bought the tickets, then waited patiently for three and a half months.
The wait gave me enough time to wonder what my son's girlfriend would be like. He is 21 and this is his first girlfriend. They have been dating for 7 months or so and we have yet to meet her. (He goes to school several states away.) It also gave me enough time for all the 'pre-vacation' nonsense. I had time to cancel the mail, stop the newspaper, book a suite at the local doggy kennel, mapquest our route, find someone to water my flowers, someone to take care of our pet hedgehog,and book a few nights in a hotel. It gave me time to make lists about what to pack; the travel T.V., the GPS, snacks, ear plugs, the water bottle/fan thing, sunscreen, and my Mom's belated Mother's Day gift. It gave me enough time to make a list of reminders; to put trash in trash bags, instead of trash cans the week before our departure, turn out the lights, close the windows, flush toilets (you only make THAT mistake once!) and go to the bank (I needed cash for a Cracker Barrel shopping spree).
The few days before our trip, I cleaned the house, as if I was expecting company. I love coming home from a vacation to a clean house. That way, all I have to worry about upon coming home, is the mountain of laundry that somehow fit into the suitcase when it was clean, and now becomes a struggle to contain. I was ready. And also nervous. This trip prep was going smoothly. I was packed, cleaned, and otherwise prepared, at 6pm, the night before. This has never happened before. Ever. The next morning, I packed the van, with ease. It wasn't like the usual jigsaw puzzle of trying this piece and that piece. It just all fit. I can't tell if I am just getting good at this, or if it all went smoothly because I had cleaned and packed for five instead of six, or if it all was easier because I only had to pack for my youngest and I, supervise packing for two teenaged daughters and pray my husband would take enough underwear and clothing that matched to get through our trip. The ease in which the trip started gave me an eerie feeling for the first several hours of the trip. Thankfully, a nap in the car put me at ease.
I mentioned that we were driving, right? I mentioned the car ride was 18 HOURS, right? Let me clarify, 18 hours EACH WAY. To put that in perspective, that is long enough for me to read 4 books and take several naps. It is long enough for my son to have watched the entire first season of Hannah Montana (4 discs) and at least 6 other movies, plus wear out his DS (video game) battery twice, complete three sticker books and take a few naps. Let me also let you know, driving through Kansas is very dull. A word of advice if you plan on driving through Kansas; make sure you have a full tank of gas and a full tummy. Places to fuel your vehicle and body are few and far between...and never where you WANT or NEED them to be. At each stop for food, gas or bathroom breaks, we would do what we called "The Car Trip Tango". We saw several variations by other weary travelers, but most all versions included toe touches, hip rotations (think Spongebob's "Bring it around town") and arm windmills.
We arrived safely to my parents home near Nashville after the second day of driving. They live in an adult only community. After dinner that night, we went for a walk, my parents and my crew of 5. A neighborhood watch golf cart pulled up and asked my Dad if we had a permit for the parade. Funny! Except, it's kind of the story of my life...especially at the grocery store. Me and my parade of children.
Concerts ran Thursday through Sunday night. There were also daytime concerts and plenty of places to win t-shirts, can koozies, key chains and other things that you never knew you needed. We left Nashville with a duck call from Duck Dynasty, 8 pens, 4 rubber ducks, 14 keychains, 8 pairs of sunglasses, 11 koozies, 10 dog bones, 3 pairs of boxer briefs, 15 t-shirts, 2 frisbees, 17 pairs of socks and a variety of other items. We love the "swag"!
The first night of concerts, Thursday, meant we got to see Luke Bryan! My daughters were chanting "Bring out Luke! Bring out Luke!" My youngest would insert "Skywalker". We got to see Taylor Swift, my son watched her the whole time, eyes glued to the binoculars (remember...very, last, row), and she brought out Tim McGraw. We got to see Miranda Lambert, who was incredible, and The Zac Brown, who brought out Kenny Rogers and Kid Rock. It was an awesome show. We got to bed around 1:30am. I just wanted to sleep the next day, but my lovely teenage daughter reminded me that "If we were in Disneyworld, you would be up early." True enough...so we pressed on to gather more swag before Friday night's concert.
Most people in the stadium have four day passes, which mean they are there for the whole festival, sitting in the same seats. There was a group of "20 somethings" sitting in front of us. One young man thought my youngest child was awesome. He turned around frequently to 'fist bump' him and tell him how great the person on stage was. Once he said "Buddy, grow up to be better than us." My son responded "Do you mean,'Don't be drunk?'" My seven year old is brilliant.
Friday night brought Kip Moore and Hunter Hayes to the stage. My son kept referring to Hunter Hayes as "The one that looks like Anakin." (We have a slight Star Wars obsession on our hands...). We also saw Lady Antebellum. They put on a great show. Little Big Town brought out Sheryl Crow. The last act that night was Blake Shelton. Amazing! Before Blake could take the stage, my youngest had a meltdown. I can't really blame him, it was 11:30 at night, he was sleep deprived, we had walked around all day, and concerts aren't really the top thing to do when you are seven. It was interesting though that the tantrum was prompted because I had switched seats with my youngest, which meant I was sitting next to my oldest's girlfriend now, not my little guy. He just wanted to be next to the girlfriend. She was a very good sport about my little guy's interest in her. After the tantrum, and before Blake took the stage, my little guy learned to do "the wave" in the stadium and asked many, many, many, MANY times over the next two nights if we could do it again.
Saturday in town, we spotted the family from the T.V. show Duck Dynasty. We were even fortunate enough (?) to collect a T-shirt,a duck call and four rubber ducks from them! They were promoting their Christmas album, out in October. They have good agents.
Someone who probably fired their agent was Lenny Kravitz. He was the surprise guest at Saturday's concert. He is a great musician, and performer... if he has the right audience. For the record, the CMA crowd is NOT the right audience. He did a 30 minute set. Half of that was on one song, with Lenny in the crowd trying to get us to sing along..only we didn't know the words. He left the stage flipping us all off...with both hands. I'm sure he had words for his agent. I imagine they weren't kind.
I am wondering what people did at concerts before iphones. I am wondering how we all survived concerts without getting our "tweets" on the jumbotron. The world is nutty...
Along with Lenny on Saturday, we heard Florida Georgia Line, Dierks Bentley, and Kelly Clarkson (who brought out Jason Aldean and Trisha Yearwood. I was holding my breath that maybe Garth Brooks would come out, but nobody paid attention to me, in the VERY LAST ROW and there was no Garth.)The night ended with Keith Urban and fireworks. My youngest slept through all that.
Sunday night we saw Gary Allan, then an announcement was made regarding the incoming bad weather. All other performers had to cut their 30 minute sets to two songs. WHAT??? I was glad our safety was being considered...but WHAT??? So, Brad Paisley sang two songs, one with Charlie Daniels. The Band Perry sang two songs. (They were SO good. I want to go see them again.) Jake Owen sang one song, then threw his guitar on the stage and walked off before he could soak in the applause. I think he was pretty irritated. The night closed with Carrie Underwood. She sang four songs in what appeared to be her 'last day of vacation' clothes (all the things left in your suitcase that haven't been worn yet.) It's unclear if she sang four songs to defy the rules of cutting your set to two songs, or if she 'stole' one song from Jake Owens time, or what...but, even four songs wasn't her full set. At least she sang "Before He Cheats."
Aside from all my kids being together, at my parents house, and meeting my son's girlfriend, the highlight of the trip was my youngest daughter winning better tickets for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights concerts. We happened to be in the right place at the right time, and were approached by the right people. They asked if we were interested in "Maybe meeting someone" as they filmed a commercial. We had to sign press releases. We were at the Pepsi booth (I am SO sorry Diet Coke...) and a game was being played. We were just watching the game, about 10 feet from the stage. At one point, the people in charge, paired up the audience (us) with the people playing the game. If your 'person' won, you would also win. The prize was two tickets...22 rows off the stage. (In other words...MUCH better than the VERY LAST ROW). To make this long story a smidge shorter, my daughter's person won, and Blake Shelton himself presented the tickets. We did not get a photo opp. with him, but we stood very close to him. Mr. Shelton posted a video on youtube from the event...we are in it! We are hoping it will air on T.V. the night the CMA fest is televised...August 12th. My daughter went on to also win a "Photo Fast Pass" that allowed her to bypass the LONG line of people walking the front of the stage to get pictures. We wanted her to buy us a Powerball ticket with all that luck...but she is only 16.
We have been home for a week. The dog has regained the weight he lost at the spa, the mail has been opened, the laundry has been done. The suitcases are unpacked, but piles of things to be put away are plentiful. Vacation hangovers are tough to shake.
The wait gave me enough time to wonder what my son's girlfriend would be like. He is 21 and this is his first girlfriend. They have been dating for 7 months or so and we have yet to meet her. (He goes to school several states away.) It also gave me enough time for all the 'pre-vacation' nonsense. I had time to cancel the mail, stop the newspaper, book a suite at the local doggy kennel, mapquest our route, find someone to water my flowers, someone to take care of our pet hedgehog,and book a few nights in a hotel. It gave me time to make lists about what to pack; the travel T.V., the GPS, snacks, ear plugs, the water bottle/fan thing, sunscreen, and my Mom's belated Mother's Day gift. It gave me enough time to make a list of reminders; to put trash in trash bags, instead of trash cans the week before our departure, turn out the lights, close the windows, flush toilets (you only make THAT mistake once!) and go to the bank (I needed cash for a Cracker Barrel shopping spree).
The few days before our trip, I cleaned the house, as if I was expecting company. I love coming home from a vacation to a clean house. That way, all I have to worry about upon coming home, is the mountain of laundry that somehow fit into the suitcase when it was clean, and now becomes a struggle to contain. I was ready. And also nervous. This trip prep was going smoothly. I was packed, cleaned, and otherwise prepared, at 6pm, the night before. This has never happened before. Ever. The next morning, I packed the van, with ease. It wasn't like the usual jigsaw puzzle of trying this piece and that piece. It just all fit. I can't tell if I am just getting good at this, or if it all went smoothly because I had cleaned and packed for five instead of six, or if it all was easier because I only had to pack for my youngest and I, supervise packing for two teenaged daughters and pray my husband would take enough underwear and clothing that matched to get through our trip. The ease in which the trip started gave me an eerie feeling for the first several hours of the trip. Thankfully, a nap in the car put me at ease.
I mentioned that we were driving, right? I mentioned the car ride was 18 HOURS, right? Let me clarify, 18 hours EACH WAY. To put that in perspective, that is long enough for me to read 4 books and take several naps. It is long enough for my son to have watched the entire first season of Hannah Montana (4 discs) and at least 6 other movies, plus wear out his DS (video game) battery twice, complete three sticker books and take a few naps. Let me also let you know, driving through Kansas is very dull. A word of advice if you plan on driving through Kansas; make sure you have a full tank of gas and a full tummy. Places to fuel your vehicle and body are few and far between...and never where you WANT or NEED them to be. At each stop for food, gas or bathroom breaks, we would do what we called "The Car Trip Tango". We saw several variations by other weary travelers, but most all versions included toe touches, hip rotations (think Spongebob's "Bring it around town") and arm windmills.
We arrived safely to my parents home near Nashville after the second day of driving. They live in an adult only community. After dinner that night, we went for a walk, my parents and my crew of 5. A neighborhood watch golf cart pulled up and asked my Dad if we had a permit for the parade. Funny! Except, it's kind of the story of my life...especially at the grocery store. Me and my parade of children.
Concerts ran Thursday through Sunday night. There were also daytime concerts and plenty of places to win t-shirts, can koozies, key chains and other things that you never knew you needed. We left Nashville with a duck call from Duck Dynasty, 8 pens, 4 rubber ducks, 14 keychains, 8 pairs of sunglasses, 11 koozies, 10 dog bones, 3 pairs of boxer briefs, 15 t-shirts, 2 frisbees, 17 pairs of socks and a variety of other items. We love the "swag"!
The first night of concerts, Thursday, meant we got to see Luke Bryan! My daughters were chanting "Bring out Luke! Bring out Luke!" My youngest would insert "Skywalker". We got to see Taylor Swift, my son watched her the whole time, eyes glued to the binoculars (remember...very, last, row), and she brought out Tim McGraw. We got to see Miranda Lambert, who was incredible, and The Zac Brown, who brought out Kenny Rogers and Kid Rock. It was an awesome show. We got to bed around 1:30am. I just wanted to sleep the next day, but my lovely teenage daughter reminded me that "If we were in Disneyworld, you would be up early." True enough...so we pressed on to gather more swag before Friday night's concert.
Most people in the stadium have four day passes, which mean they are there for the whole festival, sitting in the same seats. There was a group of "20 somethings" sitting in front of us. One young man thought my youngest child was awesome. He turned around frequently to 'fist bump' him and tell him how great the person on stage was. Once he said "Buddy, grow up to be better than us." My son responded "Do you mean,'Don't be drunk?'" My seven year old is brilliant.
Friday night brought Kip Moore and Hunter Hayes to the stage. My son kept referring to Hunter Hayes as "The one that looks like Anakin." (We have a slight Star Wars obsession on our hands...). We also saw Lady Antebellum. They put on a great show. Little Big Town brought out Sheryl Crow. The last act that night was Blake Shelton. Amazing! Before Blake could take the stage, my youngest had a meltdown. I can't really blame him, it was 11:30 at night, he was sleep deprived, we had walked around all day, and concerts aren't really the top thing to do when you are seven. It was interesting though that the tantrum was prompted because I had switched seats with my youngest, which meant I was sitting next to my oldest's girlfriend now, not my little guy. He just wanted to be next to the girlfriend. She was a very good sport about my little guy's interest in her. After the tantrum, and before Blake took the stage, my little guy learned to do "the wave" in the stadium and asked many, many, many, MANY times over the next two nights if we could do it again.
Saturday in town, we spotted the family from the T.V. show Duck Dynasty. We were even fortunate enough (?) to collect a T-shirt,a duck call and four rubber ducks from them! They were promoting their Christmas album, out in October. They have good agents.
Someone who probably fired their agent was Lenny Kravitz. He was the surprise guest at Saturday's concert. He is a great musician, and performer... if he has the right audience. For the record, the CMA crowd is NOT the right audience. He did a 30 minute set. Half of that was on one song, with Lenny in the crowd trying to get us to sing along..only we didn't know the words. He left the stage flipping us all off...with both hands. I'm sure he had words for his agent. I imagine they weren't kind.
I am wondering what people did at concerts before iphones. I am wondering how we all survived concerts without getting our "tweets" on the jumbotron. The world is nutty...
Along with Lenny on Saturday, we heard Florida Georgia Line, Dierks Bentley, and Kelly Clarkson (who brought out Jason Aldean and Trisha Yearwood. I was holding my breath that maybe Garth Brooks would come out, but nobody paid attention to me, in the VERY LAST ROW and there was no Garth.)The night ended with Keith Urban and fireworks. My youngest slept through all that.
Sunday night we saw Gary Allan, then an announcement was made regarding the incoming bad weather. All other performers had to cut their 30 minute sets to two songs. WHAT??? I was glad our safety was being considered...but WHAT??? So, Brad Paisley sang two songs, one with Charlie Daniels. The Band Perry sang two songs. (They were SO good. I want to go see them again.) Jake Owen sang one song, then threw his guitar on the stage and walked off before he could soak in the applause. I think he was pretty irritated. The night closed with Carrie Underwood. She sang four songs in what appeared to be her 'last day of vacation' clothes (all the things left in your suitcase that haven't been worn yet.) It's unclear if she sang four songs to defy the rules of cutting your set to two songs, or if she 'stole' one song from Jake Owens time, or what...but, even four songs wasn't her full set. At least she sang "Before He Cheats."
Aside from all my kids being together, at my parents house, and meeting my son's girlfriend, the highlight of the trip was my youngest daughter winning better tickets for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights concerts. We happened to be in the right place at the right time, and were approached by the right people. They asked if we were interested in "Maybe meeting someone" as they filmed a commercial. We had to sign press releases. We were at the Pepsi booth (I am SO sorry Diet Coke...) and a game was being played. We were just watching the game, about 10 feet from the stage. At one point, the people in charge, paired up the audience (us) with the people playing the game. If your 'person' won, you would also win. The prize was two tickets...22 rows off the stage. (In other words...MUCH better than the VERY LAST ROW). To make this long story a smidge shorter, my daughter's person won, and Blake Shelton himself presented the tickets. We did not get a photo opp. with him, but we stood very close to him. Mr. Shelton posted a video on youtube from the event...we are in it! We are hoping it will air on T.V. the night the CMA fest is televised...August 12th. My daughter went on to also win a "Photo Fast Pass" that allowed her to bypass the LONG line of people walking the front of the stage to get pictures. We wanted her to buy us a Powerball ticket with all that luck...but she is only 16.
We have been home for a week. The dog has regained the weight he lost at the spa, the mail has been opened, the laundry has been done. The suitcases are unpacked, but piles of things to be put away are plentiful. Vacation hangovers are tough to shake.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Rolling In The Deep
I enjoy music. I enjoy singing along to the radio. I enjoy singing the words as I hear them, which means sometimes I get the words wrong. I rarely stop to think about the meaning of lyrics, or the mood of the song writer when the song was first written. I merely enjoy the beat of the music and hearing the words (as I hear them, not always as written.) So, all that gibberish leads me to this; I don't know what Adele is exactly singing about when she croons "Rolling In The Deep", but what I think of is life as I know it right now...and right now I am rolling in the deep crap.
Let's recap; my husband was transferred from Pittsburgh to Denver in January 2011. Our house went on the market in February of 2011 and it finally sold in March of 2012. My son goes to college in Georgia. My oldest daughter is a senior in high school. My next child is a freshman in high school and my youngest is in Kindergarten. My life is crazy all by it's self, without outside influences, but for the sake of this pity party, let's add some influences.
The high school in Denver said my daughter had to be in attendance for an entire semester before they would let her graduate. That meant she had to be there around Thanksgiving. So, when the house finally sold in March, we had no choice but to have her remain in Pittsburgh to have her graduate here. (Which was fine because that is what I wanted for her anyway...) BUT, staying meant I needed a place to live, with my kids, and my two cats. So, I started looking for rentals. Then I had this crazy idea...I asked my neighbor if we could move in with her and her kids and dog. Oh, I forgot to mention, my husband has been traveling back and forth between Pittsburgh and Denver since January 2011, and as of March 2012, he had to move there. Anyway, my neighbor was gracious enough to humor me and she let me, three kids and two cats move in with her, her three kids and her dog. It has been pure bliss for 10 weeks. Ok, maybe not bliss, but two moms, and six kids under one roof is tricky. It HAS been an easy transition though. My neighbor ("Big Mama") and I get along very well. We co-parent well. We have each other's backs. We always have someone to talk to, someone to help out. It has been very nice. (Except now there are four females 'synching' their monthly gift from Mother Nature. For that week we all roll in chocolate, tears and major attitude.)
This daughter (the oldest one) has had a sinus infection since October. She has been on several rounds of antibiotics. We have gone to allergists and E.N.T.'s. She still has a sinus infection. I hate seeing her feel sick. She thinks she is dying. I don't know what is wrong, or how to fix it, but I assure you, I think about it ALL THE TIME. I also think about how strange the house (when we someday have one again...) will be without two of my peeps in it.
A week before we closed on our house, my college aged son called to tell me he had just rolled his car three times down an embankment. He said he was fine, car was totaled. He had a pretty bad concussion for nearly a month. The amount of worry connected with this was inexplicable. The amount of stress I felt was through the roof. I seriously don't know how I have any hair left at all. That was two months ago. My son bought another car yesterday. I feel like I can't breathe, the worry, the concern. Add to that, I haven't seen him since Christmas. He couldn't come 'home' for the summer because we don't have a home. He doesn't know where he is going to live, or call 'home' after we move. He isn't sure where to title and license his new car. I have tremendous guilt over this. I feel like I have inadvertently kicked him out of the nest. If only he knew how much sleep I lose with the guilt, with the worry. I hate that we are moving so far from where he chose to go to college. I hate that he is growing up, even though that is what he is supposed to do. I like my birds in the nest with me. I like them to soar with the eagles by day, and nest with their mother at night.
My freshman age daughter asked to dye her hair pink. I let her. Her hair is really pink. I am self conscious about it. I don't want people to judge her based on her choice of hair color. She is not doing so well in a couple of her classes. I worry that she will have trouble adjusting to the move. I worry that her grades here will prohibit her from getting the classes she wants at the new school. She said her grades are poor because she hasn't been turning in home work. Then she asks when she can have a cell phone. Hmm, why can't she see the correlation between behavior and rewards/consequences? I feel guilty that everyone has a cell phone except her. She lays on the guilt trip about being able to stay in touch with her friends here when we move. I can see that without a cell phone it will be tricky. Oh, and without the facebook that I took away. Guess she may have to go old school and use a real phone, or God forbid, pen and paper.
My husband is choosing the house we will buy in Denver. I am admittingly, a control freak. This is a hard thing to give up, choosing a house to live in. I just can't tear myself away from my kids here, and Big Mama's kids, long enough to look for a house. Trying to organize things here for a week long house hunting trip seems overwhelming, something had to give...this was a big something.
My brain hurts seeing all this in print. All the things I am rolling in. The ingredients to my pity party. Of course, that all adds to my guilt. My life is good. I have healthy, pretty happy kids. They are smart and funny and polite. They are growing up and doing what they are supposed to do, becoming who they are supposed to be. I have a husband who goes to work everyday and brings home a paycheck that supports all of us. I have Big Mama who opened her home to us for four months. Life is good.
Time to be the rock, and set aside the rolling.
Let's recap; my husband was transferred from Pittsburgh to Denver in January 2011. Our house went on the market in February of 2011 and it finally sold in March of 2012. My son goes to college in Georgia. My oldest daughter is a senior in high school. My next child is a freshman in high school and my youngest is in Kindergarten. My life is crazy all by it's self, without outside influences, but for the sake of this pity party, let's add some influences.
The high school in Denver said my daughter had to be in attendance for an entire semester before they would let her graduate. That meant she had to be there around Thanksgiving. So, when the house finally sold in March, we had no choice but to have her remain in Pittsburgh to have her graduate here. (Which was fine because that is what I wanted for her anyway...) BUT, staying meant I needed a place to live, with my kids, and my two cats. So, I started looking for rentals. Then I had this crazy idea...I asked my neighbor if we could move in with her and her kids and dog. Oh, I forgot to mention, my husband has been traveling back and forth between Pittsburgh and Denver since January 2011, and as of March 2012, he had to move there. Anyway, my neighbor was gracious enough to humor me and she let me, three kids and two cats move in with her, her three kids and her dog. It has been pure bliss for 10 weeks. Ok, maybe not bliss, but two moms, and six kids under one roof is tricky. It HAS been an easy transition though. My neighbor ("Big Mama") and I get along very well. We co-parent well. We have each other's backs. We always have someone to talk to, someone to help out. It has been very nice. (Except now there are four females 'synching' their monthly gift from Mother Nature. For that week we all roll in chocolate, tears and major attitude.)
This daughter (the oldest one) has had a sinus infection since October. She has been on several rounds of antibiotics. We have gone to allergists and E.N.T.'s. She still has a sinus infection. I hate seeing her feel sick. She thinks she is dying. I don't know what is wrong, or how to fix it, but I assure you, I think about it ALL THE TIME. I also think about how strange the house (when we someday have one again...) will be without two of my peeps in it.
A week before we closed on our house, my college aged son called to tell me he had just rolled his car three times down an embankment. He said he was fine, car was totaled. He had a pretty bad concussion for nearly a month. The amount of worry connected with this was inexplicable. The amount of stress I felt was through the roof. I seriously don't know how I have any hair left at all. That was two months ago. My son bought another car yesterday. I feel like I can't breathe, the worry, the concern. Add to that, I haven't seen him since Christmas. He couldn't come 'home' for the summer because we don't have a home. He doesn't know where he is going to live, or call 'home' after we move. He isn't sure where to title and license his new car. I have tremendous guilt over this. I feel like I have inadvertently kicked him out of the nest. If only he knew how much sleep I lose with the guilt, with the worry. I hate that we are moving so far from where he chose to go to college. I hate that he is growing up, even though that is what he is supposed to do. I like my birds in the nest with me. I like them to soar with the eagles by day, and nest with their mother at night.
My freshman age daughter asked to dye her hair pink. I let her. Her hair is really pink. I am self conscious about it. I don't want people to judge her based on her choice of hair color. She is not doing so well in a couple of her classes. I worry that she will have trouble adjusting to the move. I worry that her grades here will prohibit her from getting the classes she wants at the new school. She said her grades are poor because she hasn't been turning in home work. Then she asks when she can have a cell phone. Hmm, why can't she see the correlation between behavior and rewards/consequences? I feel guilty that everyone has a cell phone except her. She lays on the guilt trip about being able to stay in touch with her friends here when we move. I can see that without a cell phone it will be tricky. Oh, and without the facebook that I took away. Guess she may have to go old school and use a real phone, or God forbid, pen and paper.
My husband is choosing the house we will buy in Denver. I am admittingly, a control freak. This is a hard thing to give up, choosing a house to live in. I just can't tear myself away from my kids here, and Big Mama's kids, long enough to look for a house. Trying to organize things here for a week long house hunting trip seems overwhelming, something had to give...this was a big something.
My brain hurts seeing all this in print. All the things I am rolling in. The ingredients to my pity party. Of course, that all adds to my guilt. My life is good. I have healthy, pretty happy kids. They are smart and funny and polite. They are growing up and doing what they are supposed to do, becoming who they are supposed to be. I have a husband who goes to work everyday and brings home a paycheck that supports all of us. I have Big Mama who opened her home to us for four months. Life is good.
Time to be the rock, and set aside the rolling.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Yours, Mine and Ours
Yesterday was the start of week three of "Adventures with Big Mama". We celebrated by going to Sam's Club. I'll get back to that...but let me catch you up a bit first.
Our first week here, my husband was also here. Our house hadn't closed yet, but it was mostly packed, so it just was easier to stay at Big Mama's. She and my husband got up in the morning and went to work, I got all the kids off to school, then went back to my house (four doors away) and finished packing my belongings. After school I got the kids off the buses and headed back to Big Mama's to start dinner. The week ended with the closing on the sale of our house, and us officially being "homeless".
The second week of our stay started with my husband moving to Denver. The rest of the week is a blur. Constant movement of Big Mama working, kids going to school, kids homework and activities, housework, meals for eight people, dishwasher and washer/dryer constantly running. We had so many nitty gritty details to work out. Dinners consisted of the food left in my freezer.
I learned many things last week. I learned I really can stay awake from 5:30 am until 11:30 pm. (Previously I had been waking up from 5:30 am - 6:30 am with my older kids, then going back to sleep until my little guy woke up around 8:30am.) I learned that although I know I am a control freak, I learned just how MUCH of a control freak I am. I learned how strict I must seem to unsuspecting children. I learned how structured I must seem to unsuspecting Big Mama's. I learned how flexible (and inflexible) I am and can be.
I have also overlooked many things. I have overlooked the fact that my little guy, age 6, is probably acting up because most of his belongings are in boxes on a truck, he just moved out of the only home he can remember (we moved in when he was 6 months old), his dad has moved far away, and the rules in Big Mama's house are different than the rules at our house. He also went from being the youngest of four kids, to being the second youngest of six (seven if/when my college son comes here). All of this must be so confusing to him. I have overlooked that I should have better prepared him for this move and all the changes.
I had a chat with my daughters (ages 18 and 15). They were upset about the little kids coming into their room and touching their stuff. I told them since we were going to live here for four months, that I thought they should treat Big Mama's three kids like siblings, not like friends or neighbors. That means that sometimes the girls are super loving to Big Mama's kids, and other times...well, not so much. I decided that I too should treat Big Mama's kids like they were my kids, not daycare kids or neighbors . If I treat them kinder, more patiently than I treat my own kids, I am going to have a rebellion on my hands. I checked into some rules in Big Mama's house, told her some of mine, and we reached a verdict...rules are good. I have permission to yell, redirect, time-out, her kids. She has permission to do the same to mine. It is a hard thing to get used to. I used to teach preschool, and can handle the firm, but kind thing. To discipline someone else's kids is a funky feeling. But, we all are living together, it's best if kids know my limits, Big Mama's limits and what will happen if the limits are pushed. I have also found myself hollering at Big Mama's kids for the way they treat Big Mama. She is a hard working, single mom. She is tired and doing so much. Her kids take advantage of her exhaustion. It bothers me.
I enjoy the role of housewife. I enjoy it so much that I willingly have taken over the role at Big Mama's house. Part of me is so excited to have a "new" house to clean and organize, and have more kids to take care of. Part of me feels like I could potentially be digging a hole for Big Mama to climb out of when I move away from here in four months. I think I need to take a lesson from Jesus...perhaps I should teach Big Mama to fish instead of providing the fish. But, to pass on my neurosis about cleaning and list making...is that really fair?
Sunday, Big Mama and I agreed we needed groceries. We had previously discussed splitting the grocery bill, and sharing cooking duties. So, we headed to Sam's Club with the two youngest kids in tow. (My oldest daughter was at work and my other daughter stayed at the house with Big Mama's two oldest.) We (meaning Big Mama) put the two boys in the front seat of the cart. She pushed the cart around Sam's as I grabbed a few things on my list, and she grabbed a few things on her list. The real fun occurred as her and I discussed (sometimes loudly, sometimes from one end of the aisle to the other) which items we jointly needed or wanted and which items which children would or would not eat. After a few rounds of such discussion, we became slightly self conscious of this. We wondered what people were thinking, as we were also referring to each other as Big Mama and Little Mama. Now, we weren't afraid people would think of us as a couple, it's just that we aren't. We decided that looks our gay couple friends may sometimes get are sometimes uncomfortable. Of course, it may all really be like Dr. Phil says "You wouldn't care what people thought of you, if you realized how little they did." and nobody really thought anything. It could be that although we don't really care if people think Big Mama and I are a couple, it would be awkward, since we aren't. We are at this point, something though. We just aren't sure how to define two women living in the same house, sharing household duties, grocery bills and child rearing. When we got to checkout at Sam's, we asked the woman there to ring up my pile. Then Big Mama's pile. Then our pile, which we needed to pay with two forms of payment. I sure would like to know what the cashier was thinking. (If she was thinking anything.) I also wonder what the cable guy thought when he came over and both of us went to the door. We are surely providing the neighborhood something to talk about. We are also proving that although it may not always TAKE a village to raise a child, having someone have your back is really nice, and that family comes in all shapes, sizes and varieties.
Some notable fun parts...One morning Big Mama's two year olds diaper leaked overnight. He had been sleeping in her bed. I stripped her bed and washed the sheets for her. To do that, I had to first fold the laundry that was in the dryer. I told Big Mama not to be weirded out, but that I had folded her underwear. This led to a conversation about underwear choices and how I wore boring, white, cotton undies. Next thing I knew, she bought me three pairs of pretty undies. This Friday night for some reason, Big Mama, my 18 and 15 year olds and I were all wound up. We were dancing around the kitchen making dinner while the little kids played outside. We were laughing and joking and having a great time. I hope we have many more Friday nights like that. Saturday morning I was sewing a hole in my son's stuffed animal. Big Mama asked if I could repair a hole in one of her son's animals. This led to a wild goose chase looking for the holey critter. After several minutes, the two year old said "I show you Mama" and led her to the (second story) bedroom window. He had thrown out all the bedding, many stuffed animals, a few books, games, a piggy bank and any clothing that was around, all out the window. Dangerous and scary, for sure...but led to a few chuckles too. After Sam's Club, Big Mama, the little boys and I went through McDonald's drive thru. Big Mama grabbed the Diet Coke she was handed so hard, the top popped off and the entire thing spilled into her lap and all over her car. After cleaning that up, she dripped ketchup on her pants. After a hysterical bout of laughter I told her "I can't take my girlfriend anywhere." It's going to be a fun four months.
Our first week here, my husband was also here. Our house hadn't closed yet, but it was mostly packed, so it just was easier to stay at Big Mama's. She and my husband got up in the morning and went to work, I got all the kids off to school, then went back to my house (four doors away) and finished packing my belongings. After school I got the kids off the buses and headed back to Big Mama's to start dinner. The week ended with the closing on the sale of our house, and us officially being "homeless".
The second week of our stay started with my husband moving to Denver. The rest of the week is a blur. Constant movement of Big Mama working, kids going to school, kids homework and activities, housework, meals for eight people, dishwasher and washer/dryer constantly running. We had so many nitty gritty details to work out. Dinners consisted of the food left in my freezer.
I learned many things last week. I learned I really can stay awake from 5:30 am until 11:30 pm. (Previously I had been waking up from 5:30 am - 6:30 am with my older kids, then going back to sleep until my little guy woke up around 8:30am.) I learned that although I know I am a control freak, I learned just how MUCH of a control freak I am. I learned how strict I must seem to unsuspecting children. I learned how structured I must seem to unsuspecting Big Mama's. I learned how flexible (and inflexible) I am and can be.
I have also overlooked many things. I have overlooked the fact that my little guy, age 6, is probably acting up because most of his belongings are in boxes on a truck, he just moved out of the only home he can remember (we moved in when he was 6 months old), his dad has moved far away, and the rules in Big Mama's house are different than the rules at our house. He also went from being the youngest of four kids, to being the second youngest of six (seven if/when my college son comes here). All of this must be so confusing to him. I have overlooked that I should have better prepared him for this move and all the changes.
I had a chat with my daughters (ages 18 and 15). They were upset about the little kids coming into their room and touching their stuff. I told them since we were going to live here for four months, that I thought they should treat Big Mama's three kids like siblings, not like friends or neighbors. That means that sometimes the girls are super loving to Big Mama's kids, and other times...well, not so much. I decided that I too should treat Big Mama's kids like they were my kids, not daycare kids or neighbors . If I treat them kinder, more patiently than I treat my own kids, I am going to have a rebellion on my hands. I checked into some rules in Big Mama's house, told her some of mine, and we reached a verdict...rules are good. I have permission to yell, redirect, time-out, her kids. She has permission to do the same to mine. It is a hard thing to get used to. I used to teach preschool, and can handle the firm, but kind thing. To discipline someone else's kids is a funky feeling. But, we all are living together, it's best if kids know my limits, Big Mama's limits and what will happen if the limits are pushed. I have also found myself hollering at Big Mama's kids for the way they treat Big Mama. She is a hard working, single mom. She is tired and doing so much. Her kids take advantage of her exhaustion. It bothers me.
I enjoy the role of housewife. I enjoy it so much that I willingly have taken over the role at Big Mama's house. Part of me is so excited to have a "new" house to clean and organize, and have more kids to take care of. Part of me feels like I could potentially be digging a hole for Big Mama to climb out of when I move away from here in four months. I think I need to take a lesson from Jesus...perhaps I should teach Big Mama to fish instead of providing the fish. But, to pass on my neurosis about cleaning and list making...is that really fair?
Sunday, Big Mama and I agreed we needed groceries. We had previously discussed splitting the grocery bill, and sharing cooking duties. So, we headed to Sam's Club with the two youngest kids in tow. (My oldest daughter was at work and my other daughter stayed at the house with Big Mama's two oldest.) We (meaning Big Mama) put the two boys in the front seat of the cart. She pushed the cart around Sam's as I grabbed a few things on my list, and she grabbed a few things on her list. The real fun occurred as her and I discussed (sometimes loudly, sometimes from one end of the aisle to the other) which items we jointly needed or wanted and which items which children would or would not eat. After a few rounds of such discussion, we became slightly self conscious of this. We wondered what people were thinking, as we were also referring to each other as Big Mama and Little Mama. Now, we weren't afraid people would think of us as a couple, it's just that we aren't. We decided that looks our gay couple friends may sometimes get are sometimes uncomfortable. Of course, it may all really be like Dr. Phil says "You wouldn't care what people thought of you, if you realized how little they did." and nobody really thought anything. It could be that although we don't really care if people think Big Mama and I are a couple, it would be awkward, since we aren't. We are at this point, something though. We just aren't sure how to define two women living in the same house, sharing household duties, grocery bills and child rearing. When we got to checkout at Sam's, we asked the woman there to ring up my pile. Then Big Mama's pile. Then our pile, which we needed to pay with two forms of payment. I sure would like to know what the cashier was thinking. (If she was thinking anything.) I also wonder what the cable guy thought when he came over and both of us went to the door. We are surely providing the neighborhood something to talk about. We are also proving that although it may not always TAKE a village to raise a child, having someone have your back is really nice, and that family comes in all shapes, sizes and varieties.
Some notable fun parts...One morning Big Mama's two year olds diaper leaked overnight. He had been sleeping in her bed. I stripped her bed and washed the sheets for her. To do that, I had to first fold the laundry that was in the dryer. I told Big Mama not to be weirded out, but that I had folded her underwear. This led to a conversation about underwear choices and how I wore boring, white, cotton undies. Next thing I knew, she bought me three pairs of pretty undies. This Friday night for some reason, Big Mama, my 18 and 15 year olds and I were all wound up. We were dancing around the kitchen making dinner while the little kids played outside. We were laughing and joking and having a great time. I hope we have many more Friday nights like that. Saturday morning I was sewing a hole in my son's stuffed animal. Big Mama asked if I could repair a hole in one of her son's animals. This led to a wild goose chase looking for the holey critter. After several minutes, the two year old said "I show you Mama" and led her to the (second story) bedroom window. He had thrown out all the bedding, many stuffed animals, a few books, games, a piggy bank and any clothing that was around, all out the window. Dangerous and scary, for sure...but led to a few chuckles too. After Sam's Club, Big Mama, the little boys and I went through McDonald's drive thru. Big Mama grabbed the Diet Coke she was handed so hard, the top popped off and the entire thing spilled into her lap and all over her car. After cleaning that up, she dripped ketchup on her pants. After a hysterical bout of laughter I told her "I can't take my girlfriend anywhere." It's going to be a fun four months.
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