Thursday, December 30, 2010

2010 In Review

Consider this an apology for last year's inexcusably long year-end review of my blog, in which I felt it was somehow a good idea to quote nearly every post of the year.  Really, sorry about that.

For this year, I'll just link the titles of the posts I think are worth re-reading or re-seeing (or reading or seeing for the first time if you're new here).  And this has been such a busy and undocumented year that there really aren't many.  :)


Tummy Time


Just Me, My Update and $5 In Gas

Babies (and Toddlers) Don't Keep

Messy, Messy Boy


Everybody Loves Chuck

I'm Wondering

I Am Runner



The Snarky Sign in My Body's Office


New Iconic Scud Picture

A Different Kind of Photography Experience

12 Years

Because I Think Everyone in the World Should Watch This


On Mindfully Seeking a Label -- A Post For Mashuga


Growing Up -- Conversations With Scud and Mashuga

On Beginnings and Endings -- Peanut Turns One

Let Me Show You a Story of Coco's Front Teeth


Kaitybean On Fashion


Um... Maybe I should just post one of the papers I wrote for school. I wrote some really good ones.


The Collards Were a No Go


JDub's Strange Form of Stress Relief

Conversation With Coco

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Conversation With Coco

Me: How did I get so lucky to be your mom?
Coco: Because I choosed you!
Me: You did? You chose me? Why did you choose me?
Coco: Because you're the best mom ever! And you take care of me and you're nice all day!

**melt my heart**

Like when he says "I love you more than chocolate chips!"

Love this little boy! He can be sooooo challenging, but the payoff is so great!

Thursday, December 09, 2010

JDub's Strange Form of Stress Relief

Those of you who know JDub well know three important things about him.  For the rest of you, I'll give you the background you need to make sense of this post.
  1. He sells woodworking tools online for a living.
  2. After many years he's gotten super good at detecting scam email orders. (Hint: Grammar is key.  If they can't write good Engrish, you are can be certainly they not is legitimatized customers.)
  3. He hates doesn't really like his job.
So, he sent me this email exchange the other day.  First the email from the customer (name changed even though it probably wasn't a real name in the first place.):

From: Brock Lee
To: JDub's Business

Hello Customer Service

My name is Mr  Brock Lee, I am with the [Insert Fake and Generic Sounding Business Name Here] and with regards to your Company i will like to make an order based on (EDGE SANDER) in stock for sale? If Yes kindly email me back with the types of Edge sander that you have in stock and the total pick up price of the sizes, so that we can proceed with the order. More over i will like to know if you do accept Credit Cards as a form of payment... And allow pick-up at your location . Looking forward to hear from you soon so that we can proceed with the order...

Kind Regards
Managing Director
Mr Brock Lee, 
1234 Bogus Lane Unit 24
Supertown,BS 11111-11,

JDub's Response:

From: JDub's Business
To: Mr. Brock Lee
Subject: Re: Urgent Order

We would be happy to ship your order of edge sanders but we are overrun with pumpkins right now and are using the edge sanders as fences to keep the raccoons out. We will let you know as soon as the situation changes.

Best fishes,


Funniest part: He replies like this to scammers all the time.

My Year In Facebook Status

Click for full size

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Collards Were a No Go

So, usually I wonder if I'm doing any good in these kids' lives. Or at least I hope I'm not messing them up too badly.

But then a night like tonight happens and I figure that either life at our house is not all bad or I've just been blessed with incredible little people for children or JDub and I really are warping them. Or all three.

So you may have heard of or some other similar food co-op. We love it. We get loads of fresh produce for only $15 a week and as an added bonus we are exposed to foods we wouldn't normally buy.

The big newbies this week were Fuyu Persimmons (yum!) and Collard Greens.

Well, I decided to make collard greens with black-eyed peas and ham and cornbread.

My valiant family sat down, willing to try a bit of everything.

I'll give you a hint here: It was gross.

But rather than complaining, everyone managed to eat enough to not be hungry and to joke about it.

Some of the thins said regarding dinner tonight:

"Wow, Mom. This food is really... something."

"This is really food!"

"This meal makes me want to write a poem. Ambiguity intended."

"Mom, this food is way better than starving to death!"

"Rusty really likes this meal. She sure is getting a lot of it!"

And after the meal when it's time to brush teeth:

"After that, brushing teeth will be like a treat! It'll get the taste out."

All of this said with a smile and a good attitude.

I love these crazy people I live with.

And for the record, black eyed peas and collard greens will remain off-menu at our house.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Kaitybean On Fashion

Scene: Our house this morning as we were getting ready to go to a baptism.

Kaitybean: Wow, Mom. We must have different tastes. I would never wear those tights. Not ever.

Me: Oh yeah? I love them.

Kaitlyn: Well, I might wear them if someone paid me, like, 20 bucks. But I'd never wear them of my own accord.


And so it begins...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, August 23, 2010

Let Me Show You a Story of Coco's Front Teeth

They came in all cute, like this, poking pearly white through the gums. But they had a problem -- defective enamel.
Thus, the slightly pitted teeth turned into brown and crumbling teeth.
Which led to this -- major dental work under anesthesia.

His dentist armor-plated them and tried to make them look as natural as possible.
Two weeks later he was running and, you guessed it, hit his teeth.  Hard.  We thought they'd fall out, but I prayed like crazy and they stayed in.  But they never looked as good after that.  And the dentist said they'd be more prone to infection after trauma like that.
Fast forward about a year. Coco starts having big pustules above his teeth that hurt and drain when they're popped or bumped.  (You can thank me now for not posting pictures of that!) We return to the dentist.

Sure enough, all four top front teeth are abscessed. They all have to be removed.  Coco looks like this for two months. Except the gaping holes went away after a few days.
The dentist makes Coco a glued-in retainer with four new prosthetic teeth.  He looks so handsome.

Two hours later.
Three hours later.
We return to the dentist.  He saves the day by fixing and replacing the retainer. AND (bless him) does not charge us for the second visit.
Coco has a super week and a half with his new chompers.
No words.

Here they are. Waiting for repair. For Mommy to decide it's worth it to pay to fix them and try again. For now he's happily sticking his tongue out with his mouth closed and chomping from the side and not eating corn on the cob.

Tonight's Message Brought to You by Uncle Will

"And summer's lease hath all too short a date." 
-- William Shakespeare
Farewell, summer. It's been real.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Scud's Favorite Comic (And Mine)

For those of you who don't know Scud, he has a terrific sense of humor.  He cracks me up all. the. time.

He carries this comic in his pocket sometimes and it makes both of us laugh every time we see it.  It is from the comic strip, F Minus by Tony Carillo. Hope it's ok for me to post it here.



Tuesday, August 10, 2010

On Beginnings and Endings -- Peanut Turns One

One year ago, at just about this time, a child was born.  It was serene and sacred, a quiet scene, a beautiful and blissful welcoming. (You can read the story here.)

While pregnant with Peanut, I experienced the normal number of garden-variety aches and discomforts.  I had at least my fair share of anxiety.

But, in retrospect his pregnancy felt much like a deep breath, his birth a sigh.

When I first looked in his eyes I felt 31 years' urgent ache melt away.  Here was my friend, the gentle joyful spirit who had trusted me enough to wait for me to be his mother.  Until that moment I had no idea how much I'd missed him.

Now, the newborn boy whose peach fuzz head fit in the palm of my hand is one year old. 

His eyes are bright with joy and laughter. His voice tinkles and coos and squeals, playing on his throat and teeth and tongue the music of our language. Soon his words will roll into the world, announcing the thoughts that make him unique in all the universe. As he learns to walk, his feet march out the rhythm of his fierce desire for independence. He longs to step into the wide world and do what he came here to do.

Never have I mourned the passing of a baby year as I am grieving the end of this child's first year.

Oh, how I will miss him! 

Tangled up in his growing is the passage of my mother-self.  I don't yet feel the settling peace and certainty that we are done having children.  I also don't feel the yearning for a missing child, the surety that there is at least one more spirit waiting to join us. And so I know that this may be the end, that I may never again know the intimacy of being the mother of a baby.

Tonight I kissed his forehead as I put him to bed, knowing that the baby I nursed to sleep tonight will wake up tomorrow as a one year old.

The pain and joy and power of it all was far too much to keep to myself, so I had to pour it out here.

My baby, likely my very last sweet baby, is ONE YEAR OLD. 

{Awed pause here.}

He was born on a wisp of heaven and his birth restored my faith in birth.

Now, each day he restores my faith. 

He teaches and teaches and teaches me hope. Life is good -- all of it -- the beginnings and the endings and the just-keeping-ons.

With each joyful, toddling step he is reminding me. Life is meant to be lived with face turned forward, arms raised high, heart open to welcome the joy that waits ahead of us, even as it holds safe the treasure of the joys that lay behind.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Growing Up -- Conversations With Scud and Mashuga

A couple of weeks ago, Scud plopped down on the couch, heaved a sigh and said "Mom, there are three reasons I don't want to grow up and three reasons I do."

"Tell me," I encouraged. 

Another sigh. 

"Well, first when I grow up I'll have to get a job and work all the time. I like being a kid and having my freedom. Second, when I grow up I'll have to, like, budget and be careful with my money and pay bills and stuff. Now I just save enough money for candy or soda and then I just buy it."

"Yep. You won't be able to do that as much anymore."

Solemn nod. 

"And the third reason. When you're a grown up, people give you really dumb presents.  Like last Christmas, someone gave you a picture frame.  A picture frame!  There wasn't even a picture in it."

Of course I laughed.  I like getting picture frames as presents.

"So, Scott, what are the three reasons you do want to grow up?"

He takes a deep breath and then all at once says, "I wanna go on a mission! I wanna get married! I want to eat escargot!"

What a kid.

So, fast forward a few weeks.  It is morning.  We are on vacation and sleeping at a hotel.  Mashuga crawls into bed with me and curls close, warm and sleepy and delicious.

"Mom, I really don't want to grow up," he says.

"Oh?  Why is that?"

"I'm really having fun and just like being little and being a little kid. Plus, when I grow up, this world is going to run out of oil."

I stifle a giggle.  Who knew that he worried about things like this?

"Yeah and when the world runs out of oil, we won't be able to use cars and stuff and they'll have to start tearing down houses to mine for oil there."

"You think so?  I think that if the world runs out of oil we'll just figure out better ways of doing things.  We'll have to find better ways to use electricity for cars and harness the power of the sun and the wind."

He thinks about this for a minute.

"Actually, Mom, I think I do want to grow up.  Cuz I'm going to be a scientist and I need to grow up so I can invent that kind of stuff so when we do run out of oil it will be ok because I'll make a better way to make electricity and cars and stuff."

Yes, Mashuga.  As much as I hate to see it happen, you'd better grow up.  Whether you're going to be a scientist or not, the world needs you.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

10:30--The Last Two Weeks--An iPhone Picture Blog

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, July 19, 2010

Thursday, July 15, 2010

On Mindfully Seeking a Label -- A Post For Mashuga

Dearest Mashuga,

Consider this a dispatch from the mother of your sparkling childhood self to the solid man I'm certain you'll become.

You came to me on a wave of bright blue winter afternoon, your right hand tucked beside your head. Your gray-blue eyes were the eyes of ancient knowing.

I felt nearer to God when you lived inside me than almost any other time and my many conversations with Him helped me understand that you were something special.

His promise that you would need a strong body to fulfill your mission here on earth has seen me faithfully through the physical challenges I've helped you face.

His assurance of the strength of your spirit is what sees me through right now.

Thirty years from now we will both heave a sigh of relief. I know that thirty years from now, I will marvel and be amazed by you.

Until then, there will be another certainty tickling at my heart. Getting there will not be easy -- for either one of us.

In March your father and I walked with you into Dr. Mumford's office, yellow evaluation papers jittering in my hands. I knew the diagnosis. I'd been reading about it for months.

Google probably logged my IP address, ready to present a thousand pages about ADHD the moment I opened a browser. I gutted the library's shelves, devouring any information that could help me with you. I read the typical how-to-manage-and-medicate books. I read the medication-is-evil books. I read the diet-is-the-answer books.

I read The Edison Gene and The Indigo Children.

My heart sang out the gift of you, my hunter child, my warrior son draped in indigo.

It was healing to know that others could see a child like you and value your (HUGE) existence in this world.

I joked that probably every member of our family could be diagnosed with some level or form of ADHD. In ways it was a badge of pride.

I didn't notice the slow creeping, the way the joking and the singing and the pride no longer made up for the tears and the yelling and the sideways glances. It took me far too long to realize how your heart was hurting, how my heart was hurting.

I love you fiercely my darling boy, but there were days I had to dig into the dark of my body to find the place where I liked you.

So we walked back out of Dr. Mumford's office with a prescription for Adderall XR, a business card for a behavioral therapist and (ick) a label.

The label gave me fuel for negotiations with your teacher.

(For the love of pete and fried chicken, please move him away from the window when he's taking his math test before you decide he's a failure at math!)

The label gave me instant inner vindication.

(This child is tough and there is a section of the DSM-IV that proves it!)

Insert crickets chirping here. Or crappy hold musak. Or your mother hitting herself on the head with a pillow.

All my good intentions are gathered in a pile on my nightstand, swimming in a gravy of guilt. I stare at them through the dark of my sleepless nights and try to close the door on them through the hair-pulling of my days.

Good heavens, I love you child. I offer that up as the excuse for my paralysis. I have been so afraid to do the wrong thing for you that I've kept us both hanging tight to the end of this tug-of-war rope and done nothing else.

The crying has reached a crescendo. Within seconds of any injury -- physical or emotional, real or imagined -- you cry like someone has amputated your arm with no anesthesia.

The stubborn refusal to listen or obey haunts our days. I can't say I blame you. I can see that it is a survival mechanism to protect you from the exasperation and sour words hurled at you far too often. You want so badly to be good. You are genuinely surprised when you get in trouble. You probably get tired of trying.

Your impulsiveness is at heart-racing, police-calling fever pitch. You slipped off to a neighbor's house yesterday without asking first. You don't usually play inside his house, so we didn't even think to knock on their door. For two hours we searched all of your usual play places, scoured our house, fretted and called for you.

Finally, I put in a call to 911. A very kind officer came to our house and commenced a thorough search of our house. (Typical practice before proceeding further. I know. This is not the first time we've had to call police to help us find you.) Five minutes after he arrived, you came skipping up the stairs, a carefree whistle of happiness on your lips, completely clueless as to why your mother was haggard, police were at our home and half the neighborhood was out searching for you.

I think we need a pause button, my dear. A stop gap. A bit of help so we can catch our breath and start over. Find new ways of being.

I'd like to change your diet to help you manage this ADHD superpower of yours. I'd like to be a brilliant mother and structure our days and your life to bring out everything that's best in you, to compel you toward success and joy.

Sadly, though, I just can't keep it together enough to do all of those things.

For right now, I'm going to take a deep breath and do the next best thing.

For your safety and self-esteem, for my sanity, it's time to have a go at the medication, I think.

Then I'm calling the therapist your doctor recommended, because it's obvious that I can't do this on my own.

And it won't be happily-ever-after and honeyed milk and rainbow skies. It won't be easy. I know that. I also know enough to understand that the challenges are the real blessings.

You may not understand that now, but maybe when you read this decades from now you will.

And maybe, when you stare into the endless eyes of your own newborn son, you'll have some idea of how I love you.

Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for being patient while we figure this out.


Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Because I Think Everyone In the World Should Watch This

Thank you, Nie, for reminding us all who we are.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Guess What I'll Be Doing This Weekend???

Ragnar time, baby! I've been training for this and I'm ready.

And terrified.

And excited.

We're painting our van and dying our hair red and wearing kilts.


Friday, June 11, 2010

12 years

This tiny 4lb 12.8 oz baby...

Turned 12 in May.

Went to the temple for the first time on the Saturday after her birthday. And has gone twice since then.

Just finished her second year of playing the cello.

Is super fun.

Just graduated from sixth grade.

Has an amazingly awesome best friend.

Has spent the last week at YW camp. I'm sure she's having a ball and not the least bit homesick. She's too much like her mother that way.

But oh I've missed her! I went into her room a couple of days ago and just lay on her bed, missing her, trying to draw some of her spirit from that messy, quirky, beautiful space of hers.

I'm so grateful to have this daughter of mine and can't imagine life without her. What a rewarding 12 years it has been.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

A Different Kind of Photography Experience

Quick note: If you read my blog in a reader and it's been a while since you visited, come see the new layout. And by layout, I really mean new header and font colors. Nothing too fancy schmancy.

A couple of months ago, we had a fabulous afternoon. And Gina of Golden June Photography came along and took pictures to document it. I love how the pictures turned out. Even more, I loved the relaxed, happy atmosphere of the shoot. I love that there is light in my children's eyes and that, beyond just taking great pictures, Gina was able to capture our family's personality so brilliantly.

It was a great contrast to previous photography experiences we've had -- the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, the feeling of being at the mercy of the photographer while he/she works hard to get our (silly, busy, crazy) family to sit still in order to get the perfect shot. I've never been able to convey to a photographer that I'm less interested in the perfect shot than I am in the perfect picture -- an accurate and happy representation of my family in that moment in time. There was no conveying necessary with Gina. She simply followed our lead and our energy. It was wonderful.

I'm in love with these pictures.

(Click to make it big.)

Visit Gina's blog to see some of her other work. She is a brilliant and talented photographer and I'm grateful that she took the time to practice on us.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

New Iconic Scud Picture

There are always a few pictures taken each year of my children that I label "iconic.". Iconic, as in representative to me of exactly who they are at that moment in time.

Today I cut Scud's hair for the last day of school. He wanted another mohawk. I happily obliged, then snapped this picture.

When I saw it on the screen it immediately captured my heart. This is my Scud. Right now. He's learning to play football and be cool. He still asks his mommy for hugs several times a day. He's soooo handsome at this spot between little boy and big boy. I couldn't love him more.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Poetry Tuesday Returns In Honor Of Mother's Day

So, I haven't posted any poems for a long time. I'm feeling the need to start again. And why not start for Mother's Day?

These are two poems from Carol Lynn Pearson's book "Beginnings." (You may be getting the feeling that I like Carol Lynn Pearson. Um, I really do. I love the work of many other poets too, but Carol always seems to sing the same song my heart sings.)

The first poem "Investment" is dedicated to my younger sister who will soon be giving birth to her first child. I'm so thrilled for her I could burst.

The second poem "The Unwritten Poem" is dedicated to my mother, who has given so much to her children. She loves to write and has always told me she'd love to write more. I think she should! Until then, she just keeps on encouraging and loving me and everyone else in her family. She has given me so many poems.


How enviously
I watched
The rose bush
Bear her bud --
Such an easy,
Lovely birth.
At that moment
I wished
The sweet myth
Were true --
That I could
Pluck you,
My child,
From some
Green vine.

But now
As you breathe,
Through flesh
That was mine
(Gently in the
Small circle
Of my arms),
I see
The wisdom
Of investment.

The easy gift
Is easy to forget.
But what is bought
With coin of pain --
Is dearly kept.

The Unwritten Poem

Sometimes --
In a sitting down moment
On a day
Of stove-heating the sad-irons
And layering newspaper between
Quilts to keep us warmer --
I heard my mother say,
"I wish I had time
To write a poem."
And then she would start
The potatoes.

When I was twelve
A thing happened that
Broke my heart --
A school thing I've forgotten now.
For hours I cried my humiliation
Into a handkerchief.

Next day my mother
Brought in in from ironing --
That handkerchief --
And gave it to me special.
"Here," she laid it in my lap.
"You've had it in happy times
And in sad.
There'll be more of both.
Keep it, and it will remind you
The better follows the bad."

She went back to ironing,
And my fingers traced
The little flowers of fading blue.

I can remember other poems
She left me, too.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Snarky Sign in My Body's Office

I'm sure you've seen those slightly snarky and oh-so-true signs in many offices.

They read like this:

  • Fast
  • Good
  • Cheap
Pick two.
Well, if my body had an office, its sign would read like this:

  • Run 7-12 miles per week.
  • Make enough milk to breastfeed.
  • Lose weight.
Pick two.

Right now I'm going with the first two.

With all of this running, I've expected this baby weight to just fall off. No such luck. I'm still holding steady at 160, about 20 pounds above my pre-baby weight. When I've both run and cut calories in an effort to lose weight, my milk supply has diminished and made breastfeeding difficult. And Peanut's too little to be dieting.


I'm not complaining, really, because Hello, Heather! Your body can run 7-12 miles per week! You're successfully breastfeeding your fifth gorgeous child! Nothing to complain about there.

Mostly, I'm just finding it interesting. I've always had difficulty losing weight while breastfeeding, at least for the first year when my babies get most of their nourishment from me. This isn't new. But, the running is new and I thought it might make a difference. Nope.

And can I just say that the running is rocking? 4.31 miles today in 55 minutes.

I just love endorphins.

Thursday, April 08, 2010

Right now...

•I am nursing Peanut and listening to "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by Mendelssohn. Oh, the memories. I played Hermia my freshman year of college.

•The big kids are outside running a koolaid stand while listening to Taylor Swift and Phineas and Ferb.

•Coco just came in for a snack.

•I feel sick, but I can keep the nausea at bay if I hold very, very still.

•Holding very, very still is not the best strategy when I have 5 kids to keep an eye on.

•I am wishing that JDub would get home already.

•And hoping the neighbors don't think I'm too neglectful for staying in my house and laying very, very still while my motley assortment of red-lipped children run a koolaid stand.

•And I'm not so sure how I feel about koolaid/lemonade/Popsicle stands anyway. What are your thoughts on the matter?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, April 06, 2010


I could wax all philosophical about the importance of awareness. But I'm just going to post a video that made me laugh. And think.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

iBean Inspired

This is a video about a very cool little company my BIL works with. He is currently in a contest, so the more times this video is viewed, the better. Plus, it's kind of a cool thing, this planting and nurturing and putting intention into your dreams in a concrete way.

Please watch the video! Pass it on!

Thursday, March 25, 2010


Heather has 5 coupons for $1 off lunchables. She finds that they are on sale for $.99 at her local supermarket...

You may think the answer to this question is "The store will pay Heather $.05 to take 5 lunchables off their hands."

That is, indeed, the correct answer to the above story problem. And it's kind of cool.

But the real riddle is this:

"If Heather gets 5 free lunchables from her local supermarket should she actually let her family eat them????"

I've begun couponing recently to try to save money on our family's grocery budget. I'm still getting the hang of it. I've had more frustrating experiences than positive so far, but I have saved a lot of money already and I have faith that, with practice, I can get good at this.

I've encountered a dilemma, though.

On Tuesday night I came home, having purchased $89 worth of food for only $45. It felt good.

Then I had a startling realization. I had just purchased 5 bags of potato chips, 2 jumbo boxes of poptarts, 4 boxes of sugary cereal and 5 lunchables.

We don't eat this kind of stuff. I mean, we're not complete snobs. I love a good potato chip. Every once in a while. I don't need FIVE BAGS of them in my house.

I always kind of thought that the mostly whole food, unproccessed, non-junk diet our family usually eats was the product of a tight food budget.

Well, either that's completely untrue or somewhere along the way I've learned to prefer it.

Imagine my confusion when this light bulb came on.

Add to this that Jeffrey and I just watched "Food, Inc.", I have been listening to a lot of Michael Pollan on NPR, I've begun buying as much of my produce and meats as possible through local food co-ops and have been researching local farms to find a source for grass-fed beef.

Oh. And I'm researching the effect of food additives on ADHD symptoms in adults and children.

So the real riddle lies in how I will reconcile my desire to save money with my desire to keep my family healthy by feeding them food rather than food-like-substance.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Saturday, March 20, 2010

I Am Runner

"Human beings are made up of flesh and blood, and a miracle fiber called courage"
-George Patton

I've begun to do something that terrifies me. I run.

Dare I say it? I'm transforming myself into a runner.

I am a runner.

I don't feel like a runner quite yet. At least not all the time. But I suppose that if writers write and painters paint and builders build and runners run, then I am, indeed, a runner.

I've run about 22 miles since January, 13.4 of those since March 6.

I've come here to somehow mark this place in my journey and acknowledge what a miracle that is for me. I've never considered myself a distance runner. I see JDub, with his wiry body and mental ability to run for long distances, even when it's hard. I know I don't fit that mold.

I am a sprinter by nature. Very dangerous over short distances (or at least I used to be). *grin* I'm a soccer player. I'm happy to run for an hour and a half straight if I'm chasing a soccer ball. But, to just run for an hour and a half. Just to run??? That was never my thing.

And that's so true for me in so many ways. I'm so good at coming out of the starting blocks. I'm good at the short burst of speed, the sprint to the finish.

But real staying power? To stick with something when it gets hard or boring or just to keep my attention focused on one thing long enough to finish it is hard for me.

So, this running, this training for a long, crazy relay race, is terrifying for me. Every time I take the first step out my door for a run. Every time I pack my littles in the car and head for the gym. I'm scared. This is not easy for me.

And that's what makes it good.

Every mile (every footfall, really) feels like a triumph. Each tiny milestone has been so joyful -- being able to run for 15 minutes without stopping to rest, breaking below a 13 minute mile, running every other day for an entire week -- these may seem so small to an experienced runner. They are my daily celebrations.

A few days ago, I was on the treadmill at the gym and I found myself smiling. Smiling!! I was on the latter end of my second mile, listening to Owl City's "Fireflies" and just so happy to be alive, to be running, to be strong and healthy. In that moment I loved myself with everything I had, the world was just as it should be.

Today I left the gym with sweat beading on my forehead. My face was red. My skin was warm and tingly. My head was light and clear.

It was a beautiful thing.

I'm excited to find what this running thing has to teach me. I'm getting the feeling that it will be much like yoga, like childbirth -- the search for the calm in the storm, learning to sink into the moment, to breathe, to calm my mind and feel the earth beneath me and do nothing extra.

I think I'm going to enjoy being a runner.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Coco Says I Need To Post a Picture Of Him

He saw my last post, about Peanut and said "No, meeeeee! Put me on there!"

Here you go!

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Little Peanut Loves the Music

And the visualizer too. We have an Appletv and whenever there is music playing, a visualizer comes on the screen with the music. Dancing colors! As the picture above shows, Peanut LOVES it. What the picture doesn't show is that he scooted all the way across the living room (and out of his pants) to get there.

This kid also has some serious rhythm! We were dancing together yesterday afternoon and I stopped moving to find that he was bouncing on my hip, all by himself, right to the beat of the music.

I adore this sweet boy!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone