Day 1 of 30 day run challenge, "Pushy Peeps"

September 25, 2012
I hate running!  I even blogged about how I'd never ever never run again!  NEVER!

Then I surrounded myself with runner friends.  I kept them at a 5K distance.  By the way, I have no idea how many miles are actually in a 5K and I've no intentions of finding out.  When I see 5K I think money.  Lying bastards!  I have come to describe my runner friends as pushers selling a drug.  In fact those creepy drug dealers on the corner have absolutely nothing on my pushy peeps.  My runner friends stand there in those cute shorts, awesome running shoes, pushing this drug called running. They don't even have to talk, you'll never beg the question, "What are you selling" because one look and you know.  It is only then that I run...in the opposite direction of the pusher.  Some of them even sport this fancy number on their chest, yeah, reminds me of a toe tag at the morgue.   I have always just said NO!  In fact, Hell No!

Insert Day 1:  15 minutes of a run (okay, it was more like a pathetic jog) mixed with a brisk walk.  I hated it so much I decided I would try it again!  I started out in a foul mood and with each pounding of the pavement I lost a lot of anger.  Okay, that's a good thing right!  I also thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest and my lungs might collapse.  Okay, that's a good thing right!

I have bad feet, bad ankles, achy legs, and a lot of the times a sore muscle in my back.  Those are all very good reasons to NOT run.  But the biggest pusher of all was my little brother and sibling rivalry just became my biggest reason TO run.  My brother and I have never been competitive, leaning on each other, supporting each other, and just encouraging each other's lives...never competing.  But now, it's game on!   I really think he just used this as one of his pushing methods that I am quite certain they instruct all runners before that 5K thingee.

When I told my daughter that I was going to start running she said, "You can't run you're a mom".  WOAH!  Everything I was trying to teach my daughter just unraveled in that one sentence.  But, I'll save that for a mommy-guilt post.  I'm going to show her!!  I have two reasons that are even bigger than sibling rivalry, my kids and I'm going to show them that Moms CAN Run!  In the words of one of my runner friends, (Her name is also Jen so this must mean she is totally awesome)  "This makes me a Bad Mother Runner"

So thank you my Pushy Peeps, you have pushed me into a 30-day run challenge.  I am going to force myself to do this and to blog each day of my progress.   I expect you to be there for me....doing what you do best....pushing!

As The Girl Grows

“It's about a girl who is on the cusp of becoming someone.. A girl who may not know what she wants right now, and she may not know who she is right now, but who deserves the chance to find out.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

Today my daughter grew up. "They" said it would happen all at once, overnight, right before your eyes. I didn't believe that until today. Not my daughter, she'll always be my little girl.

After eight short years of my daughter denying denim she decided she wanted to try on a pair of jeans. I have to admit I was excited because one day she will curse the very existence of jeans. I mean seriously have you ever met a woman who loved to shop for jeans, could find the perfect fitting jeans, and looked good in whatever pair she tried on. Yeah, no they don't exist.

My daughter refused to wear jeans because of her sensory issues. All clothes must be the perfect fit, elastic waist, non-clinging, not too loose, and nothing that could cut into her waist or stomach. So imagine my complete shock and awe when she not only chose a pair but decided to try them on.

And then it happened. In the dressing room. Clearly the room had magic mirrors because when my daughter put those jeans on she aged a good six years. She turned around and there she was in the perfect pair of jeans, hugging her (someday they'll be there) curves, accentuating her already long legs, and giving her the look that mom-jean and bar-jean wearing women everywhere envy.

OH HELL NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I couldn't breath, I was sweating, the little room was spinning, and I clutched door trying to fan it for air. And then as if the Mom gods decided to finally be in my favor my daughter said, "Nah, I don't like them b/c of this button". PHEW!!! For the first time in her life I actually thanked the fact that she has a delay with fine motor skills. YES...she hated them! She was eight again and I could breath!

I have a feeling these moments of seeing her grow from my little girl to a young woman in an instant are going to become more frequent. I anticipate many moments of anxiety as I watch the sudden transformation. But for now and always I cling to the fact that she's still my little girl.

I will be starting a Jeans-Burning-Movement tomorrow, just in case!

The Help

A facebook conversation with a friend today has left me wondering why we so often deny ourselves help from others. Each of us has a friend, a couple if we're lucky, who we know we can call on for help at any time. I call these friends "3a.m. Friends". The friend(s) who you know that if you were to call them at three in the morning they'd be there for you no questions asked. Some of you are that 3a.m. friend. But, when the tables are turned you refuse to make the call.

When we are stressed from the added burdens in our lives what stops us, especially women, from reaching out and asking for help. We pour on what is happening but when help is offered we down play it. Taking a minute to compose ourselves and brush off the helpless feeling and taking on one more thing now that you have convinced yourself you are super mom, super woman, super wife. This does not apply to just women. My husband will drop anything to help a friend, a neighbor, his family, but get him to ask for help with anything and he'd rather lower himself to stopping and asking for directions!

Are we afraid of rejection? Are we afraid of being recognized as helpless, weak, impaired in some way? What are we afraid of. Why is asking for help something that is just unheard of? Recently a friend of mine was laid up. I told her to call on me for anything and I meant it. I reminded her I was cooking and storing that week and it was nothing to set aside some for her. Whether she took me up on that or not I had planned on sending her some meals. But guess what...she asked! It blew me away! A friend of mine asked for help. This was unheard of. No one has the balls anymore to speak up and ask for help. She did. I admired her a hundred times more in that moment for the very fact that she recognized she could not do it all!

There are people out there who offer the help but don't mean it. "Call me if you need anything" is what you hear but the fear in their eyes is that you might just call. And when you do there is always an excuse or something going on where they would if they could. These are not your 3a.m. Friends. They also don't ask for help because they fear owing you one. A friend in need is a friend indeed not apply.

But what about the people who are willing helpers but won't ask for help? Or is it that some people simply can't ask for help. Asking for help does not make you weak. It does not stunt your independence. It is not a sign that you can't accomplish anything. Asking for help is an admittance that you are not meant to take on everything. And it's okay to admit that. You can be a hero tomorrow but today if you need it please ask for the help!

I won't run, Forest, I won't run!

I am not a runner! Never have been, and recently decided I never will be. I've made some serious changes in my diet & exercise routine in the last 6 weeks and I feel great! I wanted to feel better so I thought, "why not run". Oh, the reasons why NOT to run (for me) far outweigh the reasons to run!

I tried it, if you ask a trainer or my husband, who sits on the couch telling me HOW to run, they'd probably tell you I didn't try hard enough. Anyone can run right? I can do it? Nah, I won't. I didn't give up, I don't feel I failed, and I am never going to say never. I'm just not going to run.

I have a friend and a sibling who have signed up for their first marathon and I'm so excited for them. Several friends around me took up running, ran a few marathons, love running for fun. They look great, are in their best shape, and talk about how wonderful they feel after a run. I admire them and think they are just a cape away from being my hero. But their stories don't make me want to run.

When I first started trying to run I wondered when I'd feel that proverbial "Runner's High". I think I felt it a few times, that is if the high is that burning sensation in your lungs that I would equate to my late teen years of inhaling from a silver pipe. Not that I ever did that, kids, no no but I've heard all about it! My husband, the couch potato trainer, told me there is no runner's high, he bragged about his miles ran back in college, and what I was doing wrong. Had I bought myself a pair of fancy new running shoes I would have planted one in his rear!

So, I resign myself to running short 2-5 minute sprints on the treadmill and I'm happy with that. Six weeks ago I was on the couch training for heart disease & diabetes, anything I do now is success and that makes me feel good. Almost as good as that "runner's high".

I won't run, Forest, I won't run...unless of course you have a box of liquor filled chocolates, even then I may just make you get off the couch and bring them to me!

Chasing the American Girl Dream

November 14, 2011

Last week the newest American Girl catalog came in the mail, and like I do every time I handed it off to my 7 year old daughter. She enjoys looking at it, dreaming of ownership, and admiring the outfits (that are reasonably priced at what it costs to outfit my own American Girl). This catalog was different, this year was different, her admiration had suddenly turned to obsession. She spent 10+ hours ooohing and aaahing over the catalog, logged onto the AG website and figured out how to fill her cart with more than $500 worth of items. She was chasing the American Girl Dream!

February 7, 2012

Must have lost my train of thought! I suppose now is as good a time as any to finish this entry. My husband and I talked, struggled with justification, and even picked out 1 American Girl doll with a new outfit. All I had to do was hit "complete checkout". But the internal war going on inside of me wouldn't commit. How do I justify a $100 doll and a $50 outfit? The satisfaction and happiness and glowing on her face Christmas morning when she woke up to a doll that looked like her should have been enough to seal the deal.

But it wasn't. We decided AG's knock off rival "Our Generation" would be just as wonderful to her. Of course this meant blaming Santa. We slathered his name all over those packages to make sure that if she discovered this was not straight from the catalog he'd be the one to blame. But she didn't blame anyone...she happily oooohed and aaahhed over the dolls, the clothes, the accessories, and she showed genuine love. The doll didn't look just like her but it had the same name which left her in awe.

I know it's not the same. I know that some of her friends are going to tell her the difference when they come over and play with her "not real" dolls, I know that one day she'll discover the truth. I hope that what she also discovers is not that she didn't have THE American Girl doll of her dreams but that she had the tea party of her dreams with her dolls and her family, that she had parents who sat in on sipping from doll sized cups, a little brother pretending to eat doll sized cake, and friends who didn't notice the difference. Those are the dreams I want her to chase, the dreams we will help make happen, and the memories created that she'll look back on one day.

From the Mouths of My Babes 2011

Look at this it's really gonna freak people out. ~Audrey

Mom, you are not going to believe me but it's really true: You are amazing! ~Audrey

Watch and Learn, Sister, Watch and Learn. ~Ian

Ian: What are those?
Mom: They are pickled peppers.
Audrey: If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peckers how many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick.
Mom: (Dying inside at her take on this)
Ian: 41
Audrey: The answer is 12
Mom: (still dying inside)

Audrey: I'm going to need some chocolate cake to celebrate my birthday every day, because everyday is my birthday.
Ian: Your birthday is not EVERY day.
Audrey: Well, in my world it is.

Ian: This book must be fiction because I've never seen a penis look like that in real life before.

Conversations with My Wee Ones 2011

I would like to think that I am funny enough to make this stuff up and provide entertainment. Sadly I can't come up with anything nearly as comical. These 2 keep me in stitches daily...here's why!

Ian: Did you know they use chocolate as medicine?
Audrey: Not anymore.
Ian: They do, they really do!
Audrey: Ian, everybody knows they have not used chocolate as medicine since
1984.


Audrey to Ian: We have sustained serious injuries
Ian: Huh?
Audrey: You have no idea what serious injuries are yet.

Audrey: OH CRAP!
Mom: WHAT did you just say?
Audrey: OH CRAP!
Mom: That is not a very nice thing to say do you even know what it means?
Audrey: Yes, it's what you say when something goes wrong.
Mom: Crap is a not nice word, slang for poop, and you shouldn't say it.
Ian: Oh, I have to go take a crap.
Mom: IAN MICHAEL!!
Ian & Audrey: fits of giggles