Reminds me of a story

Thanks for all the encouragement in light of my "despair" (ok, potential lameness) of the last post!  Your kind words and fresh ideas re-inspired me.

My favorite by far, however, was from my friend Colleen.  Um, duh - pen and paper Kim.  She didn't quite say it like that, but she probably should have!!!

Reminds me of one of my favorite stories of all time.

Once upon a time, long ago (let's say 17 or 18 years, shall we?) John and I were invited to spend some time with John's best man (and my good friend) Eric at his delightful parents' cottage in Paradise, Michigan.  (Actually, I meant his parents are delightful.  However, I remember the cottage as a pretty great getaway as well!)

We stayed, we saw, we hiked, we played, we ate (of course), we tried out Mr. Smith's newly hooked up shower (individually, thank you). 

Ultimately, at some point we were lazing around on bunks, chairs, etc.  I was reading.  I distinctly remember Eric yawning and saying, "I wish I brought my laptop, I'd really like to play some solitaire."

At which point I very exaggeratedly rolled my eyes and pointed to the two decks of playing cards on the table.  I remember thinking very haughtily, "I'll never be that dependent on technology."

So, I take Colleen's response as a very good-natured eye roll which I very much deserved.  And, since I'm not going to buy a new laptop at this time, perhaps I will splurge on a very nice notebook and fancy pen!  Let the writing roll on!

Oh laptop, why have you forsaken me?

Just when I started feeling truly motivated.....  And I'm finally starting to deliver (hey, I definitely consider 3 posts in one week DELIVERING!).  This more consistent posting was inspiring me to consider bringing fewer books up north and spending a couple of hours each day working on my novel.

And then..........

My laptop crashed!

It has since been revived, but it is clearly on life support.  My WONDERFUL tech guy admonished - "if you have anything on there you want to keep, you'd better back it up soon!"  Ouch.

See?  So this is where I get sidelined.  In addition to stretching my writing muscles by actually writing, I've been furiously reading books on getting published, writing chick lit, etc.  I am SO ready.  And now this.

Am I tempted to go on the Dell website and order myself a new laptop?  Um, yes, and apparently it could be delivered effective 7/22.  I found this out after building the whole thing and then aborting in a panic.

Am I also tempted to just save my current progress on the book, back it up and put my head in the sand and resign myself to passive reading for a full seven days?  Yes, definitely I am.  In an effort to persevere, I am considering writing on the crippled laptop anyway.  But what happens if it crashes and I lose all my new work?  Argh!  Decisions. 

Sadly, my budget dares not accommodate the former, even with my awesome educator's discount and wicked payment plan.  Therefore, it's on my plate to either give in to or resist the latter.  I hate being a grown up sometimes.

What's a girl to do!?!

Fan - addict

By now I'm sure I have complained/whined/moaned in more posts than not about my terribly hectic schedule when it comes to the kids' sports and activities.  If I counted the hours spent driving and dropping to practices and attending various sporting events for three children, it would come pretty close to the number of hours I spend weekly on the job.  I'm certain it would exceed the number of hours a week I sleep!

Want to know a secret?  For the most part, at least when it comes to actually being able to watch the sports....

I LOVE IT!

No matter how much I complain.  No matter which sport.  No matter which kid.  Really!  I do.  I love it.

Last night it was a softball double header - the playoffs.  It was my oldest's first game back after torn ligaments in her ankle.  Of course it had to be playoffs, because who comes back to boring old regular games????  My daughter's team lost both games.  Both games were totally within their power to win.  Both teams we faced we had beaten at least once before.  My daughter played, in her words, "okay".  In my opinion, perfectly fine for a first game back.  But not as good as she would have liked to play at the end of a season in an important game, had the summer gone differently for her physically.  Oh, and did I mention?  The games were in Armada - over an hour drive and mostly on back roads.

This should have been a recipe for dread and disaster, right?  Wrong.  Still loved it.  I enjoyed every pitch, every hit, every strikeout, every play, every error.  I enjoyed the comeradery of the parents in "soccer" chairs, the chatter spilling over from the bench.  I can't say I enjoyed overhearing the coach's frustration at some slower timing and a little bit of bobbling on my daughter's part, but - hey - it's part of the game.  And she will learn more hearing it from him than from me, that's for sure!  It allows me to fully be the "cheerleader", as one of her past coaches once said, and know that she will learn what she needs to do next time.

Today it was a 2 1/2 hour swim meet.  Only one of my kids (the youngest) swam today due to a last minute "injury" to my son.  And she was only in two events.  So, I was basically there to watch about 45 seconds of swimming.  This drives my poor mother crazy.  I think she has made it to two of the kids' meets over the past 6 years because she simply cannot understand why on earth sane people would agree to spend 2, 3, 4 hours to watch their kids for mere minutes or even seconds.  In response to my scolding that she easily spent 3-4 hours a day at the hockey rink with my brother, her response is "Yes, but that was for a game that lasted an hour and a half."  She has a point. 

But it doesn't matter - I still loved it.  Swim meets have a special energy.  Particularly home swim meets in the summer.  A big picnic is organized for the swimmers and their families for after the meet that is pizza and potluck.  Smaller splinter picnics crop up around throughout the meet, connecting parents.  We rush up to the fence every so often for our few seconds of spectatorship, cheer loudly and then high five our kids and collect their ribbons for safe keeping.  Good times.  In those few seconds of spectatorship is a thrill, a high if you will.  Watching my kids executing strokes that I myself flail through is truly fun to me.  They are not always perfect in their execution, far from it.  But every meet shows their improvement and maturity.  Have I mentioned, I love it?

I'm too tired now and this entry is too long to start in on volleyball.  And soccer.  And football.  And hockey.  And baseball.  Right now my kids only play the first two.  But I'll watch them all.  And no matter how long the drive, how hot/cold/wet/windy the conditions, how tired I am, how brief my kids' appearance -- I guarantee I'm loving it!

What a Difference 6 Months Makes

I amused myself by going back and reading my past blog posts this evening.  I'm mortified by the time lapses.  Not the sign of a dedicated and successful writer, that's for sure!  Does that mean my experiment failed?

Well, no matter, I'm back again.  As I look back to my last post, over 6 months ago, it amazes me what a shift our family life has taken.  In December 2009 I was caught up between middle school drama and elementary delight.  My kids were just that --- kids --- for all my comments about the teen and preteen.

Fast forward six months and our house feels very different.  The 8 year old is the sole remaining elementary kid.  Someone said to me the other day, "THIS is the baby?"  Yes, this is my baby - eagerly looking forward to being more independent and walking home with her friends instead of her brother (with strict orders not to put on the Clexton Show).

My son is most definitely a Tween now.  On the verge of middle school he is in that quagmire where his emotions and his hormones run from young man to little boy and it's often hard to keep up.  My running worry is that one of us is not going to make it to his 12th birthday.  Odds are even right now as to who that "one" is going to be!

Probably most dramatically different is my 14 year old.  For all that we have called her 13 going on 40 and so on, she was really still just a mature child until just recently.  Suddenly, she is a young woman.  Until an ankle injury sidelined her, her summer plans were consumed with readying herself for high school sports through camps.  Her humor is quite adult, her observations are witty and sarcastic, her eyes seem to see and understand more.

It doesn't help that I came across pictures like the one below, taken when I was right around her age.  And it brings back memories of what I was up to at that age.  Lord, have mercy!

Just the other day I watched her to climb into a car of kids, with a seventeen year old at the wheel.  It really startled me and stayed with me all day.  Thankfully, this occurred at 6:45am and the drive was to be roughly six blocks, so I knew the potential for shenanigans was minimal.

It took me a few days, but I have made my peace with that moment.  Just in time came the following tidbit to knock me off my feet:

"Mom, you know I'm eligible to start driver's training in February, right?"

Ouch.

Best Laid Plans

I can't imagine I'm the only one who would view two weeks off work as an opportunity to accomplish big things.  Granted, I knew the two weeks would be punctuated by a good deal of time spent celebrating the holidays.  But still, I had plenty of time to clean house, organize closets and go through old boxes.  In general, the plan was to start the New Year O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E-D. 

Now I have 4 days left with very little to show for the time passed. 

Oh I have definitely enjoyed myself.  I have had a number of lazy days in addition to days of celebration with family and friends.

But here I am, behind on the laundry (AS USUAL, anyone in my house would say), rooms and closets only minimally tidied and old boxes as packed up and disorganized as ever.

Well, 4 days is 4 days.  There is still hope.  I can still conquer this house and start the New Year organized.  If I'm nothing else, I'm optimistic!

Birthday Recap

Wow - what a day!  First, I am officially no longer 40, I am "in my 40's".  Um, gulp.  My mantra is "it beats the alternative".

I stayed up far too late the night before, sucked into Law & Order SVU.  I was definitely exhausted from many days strung together of Christmas, post-Christmas and 8 year old birthday mayhem.  This created an inertia so severe that extended TV watching seemed easier and wiser than the exertion it would take to get into PJ's, remove makeup and get into bed.

Therefore, waking at 9am, which would normally be sleeping in, meant only 6 hours of sleep.  I still had a lovely couple of hours of solitude, catching up online and drinking a pot of tea, before my kids woke up.  Unfortunately, the crazy roller coaster schedule I have had my kids on meant, even though they slept in, they woke up cranky and difficult.

Happily, I was leaving cranky behind!  Three of my favorite people in the world - my best friend, my sister and my mom organized an impromptu lunch outing to Good Girls Go to Paris - an amazing place that I have been dying to visit.  I left my kids in their PJ's with a simple request that "for my birthday" they tidy up their toys so I would be able to vaccum when I returned.

The lunch was both delightful and delicious!  I cannot recommend the restaurant highly enough.  I will certainly go back.  Since it is on the fringe of WSU's campus, probably more than I should!  As a matter of fact, I issue an open invitation to my WSU friends to accompany me as I sample my way through the menu. (or anyone else who wants to meet me there!)  And the company could not have been more perfect.  A slice of the day I would like to freeze in time.

Then we arrived home.  The simple request that they tidy?  Hmmmm.....  Not only was nothing tidied, the scene had digressed.  The children were still in PJ's and in much the same position as I had left them.

I blame the lack of sleep.  I lost it.  Full on drama queen tantrum.  "I rarely ask for anything....  Can't believe nothing was done.....  It's my birthday...."  Slamming doors included, tears plentiful, and embarrassingly all in front of my sister.  Not that I mind her seeing the warts, but hated to put a cramp in her visit.  Especially so near the end.

Soooooooo......  yelling, tears, door slam, lots of pouting.

Miraculously (and probably due in part to Eileen removing Natalie from the scene), my older two pulled it together and cleaned the living room and dining room (something I probably wouldn't have accomplished in the same amount of time).  While this occurred I pouted and took a very cleansing nap.  I woke up to my poor over-criticized husband having used his break to pick up a birthday cake and arrange take out chinese food (since he had to work until 9pm) for dinner.  Oh, and he also organized an impromptu small party with my family.  This all in the wake of a separate tantrum all for him.

So the evening ended with great Chinese, delicious ice cream cake,  watching Up with my parents, my kids, my sister, and eventually my husband and brother in law.  It also included a little wine and even champagne.

Although it may not have been a day that I am fully proud of, it seems a day that most accurately represents my daily life.  Therefore, perhaps it can be considered an excellent 41st birthday!

Systematic torture of a marshmallow mommy

I present to you the scene of the crime - the Mort Harris Recreation and Fitness Center on the campus of Wayne State University.  Looks harmless, doesn't it?  It even looks rather pleasant.  Ah, how easily we are fooled!

Folks - this is a torture chamber - trust me on this one!  Don't believe me?  Let me explain....

So I returned from San Antonio thinking perhaps it would be a good idea to get back into a workout routine.  I spent 4 days literally eating my way through San Antonio.  Guacamole made fresh at our table, mouth watering barbeque, prickly pear margarita.....mmmmm.....  But I digress.  You know how they say things are bigger in Texas?  Well, 5000 calories per day later, my rear end is most certainly bigger, thanks to Texas!  

So, inspired by extra junk in my trunk, I made an appointment to meet with a personal trainer.  I have never worked with a personal trainer before.  I work out at the gym, so that doesn't intimidate me, but have not dipped my toes in the personal training waters.

I meet with the PT - he seems harmless.  Obviously fit, but not in a bulky, muscle-popping way.  Poor guy has a horrible head cold, but he is persevering.  How hard can he be on me, right?

He asks what my goal is for our session.  Since I know he will tell me it is impossible to shrink my ass 2 sizes in one sitting, I opt for asking him to show me exercises I can do at home for the days I don't work out on my lunch hour.  Also known as lately - every day.

What possesses minimally fit people like me to try to appear like we are fit to people who actually are, in fact, fit?  As Mr. PT lead me through a series of seemingly low-level exercises and stretches, I focused on following them to the letter.  Or rather, to the muscle.  Burning thighs?  Screaming deltoids?  No problem.  Wouldn't want to look bad in front of the guy who is holding my accurate weight and measurements in his hands (so he clearly knows better!)

Suffice it to say that I left the Rec Center barely able to walk, my thighs threatening to collapse with every step.  And then it got bad....

Fast forward 16 hours.  I woke up Thursday barely able to get out of bed.  Shaving my legs was out of the question.  Hmmm....pants it is!  Descending my back stairs (precarious in the best of times, but that is another BLOG topic) was fairly thrill seeking.  It was pretty much 50/50 whether or not I was going to just fall right down.

Did you know that sitting down in an office chair is a squat?  That there are other daily activities that are also squats and I am now seeking out rails to keep me from "falling in"?  Or were you aware that descending stairs is actually a lunge?

So, if you see me in the next few days and I am waddling along like a penguin, you will know I have my Master, I mean Trainer, to thank.  And please don't, as my husband did, ask me to demonstrate the lunges he taught me.  Or at least please wait until November.  I might be able to walk by then.