Revelation

Today, at the grocery store self-check out station, I accepted the clerk's offer to bag my groceries.  I can't even tell you why I did this.  I always bag my own after I scan and punch in my own order.  I dread the clerk walking over to me and starting to bag my stuff without asking.  I'm picky.  I bag my milk, for example.  I put laundry soap in the same bag as yogurt.  I have a system.  I never take plastic bags.  I'm a freak show, and I realize this.

Today, however, I accepted the bagging by the clerk.  I got out of the store faster too.  She didn't bag it up like I would have done.  It didn't bug me though.  I didn't start feeling stressed out or a little mad, even.  Huh.  I'm growing, I guess.  About time.

Mudder Nation has a new member.......

Tough Mudder has come and gone.  I will say this:  It was fantastically cathartic, exhilaratingly challenging, and incredibly empowering.  I loved it.

It seems that most things in life do not live up to the hype.  That can be a relief sometimes, but it is usually a disappointment.  Tough Mudder Wisconsin was not disappointing.  The running was largely uphill.  The obstacles were difficult.  There were some that I could not have completely by myself.  The Berlin Walls and Everest (by far the most physically intimidating) required teamwork (and my team rocked it, by the way). 

Beyond the physical teamwork necessary for some, mental team work was critical.  My team discussed how to attack an obstacle.  This was really very helpful.  My biggest psychological challenges were the small spaces. The Underwater Tunnels were my first opportunity to quell the hysteria rising inside of me.  Because my team knew my fears, they talked me through it.  As someone who is slow to trust, I have to say that this is a moment I will always remember.  By the time I got to the Boa Constrictor, I welcomed facing that claustrophobia and kicking it to the curb.

It was a great day for the spectators too.  My family was on hand to watch us run past a few times and tackle some obstacles.  Even though it was an electric and adrenaline-soaked atmosphere, it was completely family friendly.  This was greatly appreciated by many.

The challenges kept coming.  The Arctic Enema made me understand why freezing water can kill so quickly (seriously, stay off the thin ice in winter, everyone).  The Mud Mile was surprisingly exhausting.  Jumping into deep, cold water from 20-30 feet above was scarier than I had imagined.  The Electric Eel was "shockingly" unnerving (Get it?  Oh, but you will.)  We never knew what was around the next bend in the muddy path, littered with one-shoed participants (that deep mud just sucks off the tennies if they aren't on tight, folks).

Our team (called Your Mother), ran the whole 12 miles (which I thought was only 11 miles until Mile 12 popped up.....what a surprise!).  We attacked each obstacle as a team and did better than any of us expected (or at least better than I expected, anyway).  With our youngest team member in her early 30's and me bringing up the elderly end at 44, I am damn proud of us. 

Electoshock Therapy was the perfect spine-tingling finale.....and the two dark Dos Equis waiting at the finish line as a nice lady placed my orange headband on my head and asked if I was ok didn't hurt either.  I feel like I can conquer more than I imagined.  I feel more alive than ever.  Tough Mudder taught me that I am stronger and mentally tougher than I thought (and that I had an excellent team).  It also made me look forward to getting stronger and tougher for next year.  I am in.  (It doesn't hurt that my kids think I am a total rock star too....and I am riding this wave as hard as I can, because the adoration will not last.....)

We will see you next year, Tough Mudder Wisconsin. 

Meeting the Challenge: Tough Mudder Wisconsin 2012

Tough Mudder Wisconsin is in 9 days. Check that. It is in 8 days. My sleeplessness before something stressful or exciting is starting to kick in, and for the record, I can't even tell you into which of those categories Tough Mudder falls.

This 11-mile / 22-obstacle event is said to be grueling and, in fact, the toughest physical challenge I might ever encounter. (Makes me wish I'd have skipped the epidurals, to be honest...even though their effectiveness seemed to be sketchy.) 70-80% of those starting the "race" end up crossing the finish line. No times are taken. That is all on the honor system. The challenge is finishing.....as a team. We are as strong as our weakest link, and Please God, do not let that link be me. I am already the oldest member of my team, and my claustrophobia / fear of drowning in my car with the windows stuck up may be my undoing (Hence, the reason that my current vehicle is also my first with power windows.....and that was NOT my choice in upgrades. No submerged cars on the course though, as far as I know.) The event I fear most is crawling through narrow, partially-submerged tubes. Really. I can run 11 miles. Climbing, fire running, swimming, jumping off high things do not scare me (blissful ignorance to a large degree, no doubt). The water tubes have me....... and running through the dangling live wires of 10,000 volts, I guess also makes me a bit uncomfortable.

Also, I have to sign and submit a Death Waiver. I refuse to even read it. Download, Print, Sign, Fold, Submit. No reading. Not ever. I don't want to know. (Do I really get to "waive" death? If so, does this waiver last indefinitely? I wonder.)

I have trained pretty hard for the last six months. There is room for improvement, but I feel good about what I have accomplished while living the life I live and meeting my other responsibilities. I feel strong and able to hang in there. (Although, I might be delusional.)  I have put in the miles at dawn, the lifting, and the crazy alternative workouts. Delaney has hung in there with me through the monkey bars workouts, and she's paced some of my looonnggg runs (on her bike) during our extra hot and dry summer. Aidan was by my side for the yoga side planks and push ups.  We even did some rope jumping together.  Dave Grohl and his Foo Fighters have sung and strummed me through seriously hilly country roads when my bad knee wanted to take me down, and I maybe even wanted to cry once. Rob has encouraged me every step of the way with his belief in me to be able to do this crazy pants endurance challenge and by giving me the time to train.

Come what may in 8 days, my kids, Rob, and I will drive almost two hours (leaving home at the a$$-crack of dawn) in order to park and get on the shuttle in time to pick up my race packet and find my team. I can only hope that the venue is appropriate for a 6 and 9 year old. (Beer, extra adrenaline, and bands....which I'm sure only sing RD versions of all songs.....that's minivan-speak for Radio Disney, btw.  Oh yeah, kid-friendly for sure, right?) There is no way Delaney and Aidan could miss this. They have been a part of the training prep over the summer months when they've been stuck with me every day, and they deserve to own this.

So, in this midnight hour, I am questioning WHY I am doing this crazy thing. It is not a bucket list event. This is more than one in a string of whatevers to cross off a list before I die.

It's been a challenging several years (for you too?  yeah....I've heard I'm not the only one).  We've had to put our heads down and get through some things.  It's sucked.  A lot.  I mean, overall, life is grand.  But that's because it is what we make of it.  And I choose to make it grand.  Suckiness gets left at the side of the road.

Here's what I think: 

There are few roads to catharsis in life. In order to embrace the ones that are open to us, we have to be willing to be uncomfortable, take a risk, release the negativity,

believe in ourselves, and ultimately let go. This is my catharsis trip.

I have been waiting one full year for this day

(and have searched for such an opportunity for even longer).

I plan to savor it and soak it up for everything it's worth.

This is my chance to release my

stress, angst, sadness, fear, 

tentativeness of faith,

feelings of inadequacy, and frustrations.

 

It is my hurdle to clear.

 

I have this outlet to push my personal limits physically and mentally.

My children will see that, even though their mom isn't very young, she will never quit.

At the end of the day, I will know what I am made of for certain. 

This challenge is mine. 

 

Aahhh.

Every year, our family vacation to the Northwoods of Wisconsin seems almost surreal once it is over....too beautiful and reviving to the senses to have actually happened outside of our dreams.  

This year we were treated by the universe to a spectacular meteor shower.   It was Aidan's first,  and he was properly awe-struck.  The night was perfect :  cool, clear, sliver of the moon dark,  and scented with cedar wood smoke.  I hope to hug the memory of that night close forever.....and for the other three of us to do the same.

I was blissed out to run through beautiful, wild landscapes (and was told that I narrowly missed happening upon a she-bear with two cubs!).  We had a family of bald eagles nesting yards from the cabin.  Loons chatted with us in their wistful language just off the pier.  Does with their fawns made the occasional appearance.  We were reminded that nature is truly magical and a treasure to behold.

The fishing was entertaining, the beach waters crystal clear, and the trip to the sand bar yielded an exploring party to the island that has held Delaney's intrigue for three years.  Boating and laughing with my dad and stepmother makes the trip even richer for the kids to create grandparent memories to keep.

We reconnected as a family and enjoyed the company of each other.  Now, we wait 51 weeks until our next visit to our Northwoods vacation respite.   Until then, I vow to wrap myself in the fresh calmness gained by breathing pine-scented air and in the peace that comes from taking quality time with the ones I love.

Aidan's birthday has come and gone.  He's a big kid of 6 years and 2 weeks as of today.  His birth was during a flurry of anxious activity for our family.  We moved from Milwaukee to the country (or so it seemed) 13 days before he arrived.  The move was a blur with Rob working a new job with a long commute and no time off, me ending a career the day before the move, Delaney being 3, and all of us trying to adjust to all the changes that we made and that have made us.

What is a wonder to me is that this child, born during a tumultuous time, has taught me to slow it down.  Because he is here, I stopped working.  I learned (and am learning) to take a moment.  He has been a gift to us, because he has made our family complete.

Happy 6 years and 2 weeks, Aidan.  You have gone from being our Cantaloupe to becoming our Finn.  We love you for your gentle soul, quirky humor, musical heart, love for all things sports, and all that makes you YOU.

Off Balance

Balance, not so good. Must practice! The Quiet Game was easier, surprisingly. I will give it a day or two and try it some more. I think I need yoga (without the sidekicks) and a bit of a respite. All will be well.

Two of the Main Reasons for Finding Balance:  See Photo Above

Two of the Main Reasons Finding Balance is Tough:  See Photo Above

I love my two little off-kilter makers.

It's Not all Sweat and Itchiness

I wait all year for summer.  Overall, I am more of a autumn person though, and I love winter and spring too.  However, as a former teacher and a daughter of a teacher, summer has always signaled freedom and a chance to catch up.  (And a time to be broke as a teacher and daughter of a teacher, but that's ok.  Not complaining.)  Summer is a time to absorb nature, feel the warmth of the sun, sleep with the windows open, grow things, swim in lakes, replace pasty white skin with a healthy tan.  Living in a part of the U.S. where we sort of jokingly say that winter is 8 months long is just a slight exaggeration most years.

This year was different.  Winter came with a wimper and left the same way.  The kids didn't get any snow days for school.  I think I only shoveled twice.  We never got the piles of white, sparkly snow to cover the sooty roads and dead-looking landscape.  It was not freezing outside.  We never got the chance to build a snowman, feel the satisfaction of hot cocoa, or hunker down and hide for awhile.  It was utterly disappointing. 

So, we looked toward summer.  This would be a time to be doing the opposite of what winter gave us.  Instead of looking at the almost-not-even-winter landscape from inside our not-quite-frigid-weather coats, we'd get to fully live a season.  Um, not so fast.  This has so far been the uber-summer.  You want hot?  How about many days in a row over 95 degrees F?  You want sun?  How about the scorching variety, the kind without any rain for weeks on end?  Plants are shriveling.  Blacktop surfaces are buckling.  This is not what we had planned.  (and I can only imagine how the poor farmers are dealing with this)

BUT!  We decided to take matters into our own hands.  We threw a bunch of stuff in the mini van, let the kids listen to Radio Disney for awhile, and drove toward redemption.  Our brief escape from the blistering agony hasn't ended the drought or settled the "water the grass or let it go dormant" debate, but we are enjoying the season and each other.  Even sweating at the beach isn't so bad.  Having a cooler of junk food treats and beer doesn't hurt either.

How'd Day One of my Summer Games go, you ask?  The Quiet Game was an effort.  I did pretty well though, and the kids had a happily quieter day.  They found things to do and fought less.  The only snag came when I was trying to sneak in 30 minutes of yoga while they were eating lunch.  After a few minutes, they were both in the same room with me, watching the yoga DVD as if it was for their own entertainment.  Then Aidan brought his lunch to the couch.  After a minute, Delaney crept to the edge the couch nearest my yoga mat while reading her book.  Suddenly, she was on the floor right next to me, and I had to make an effort to not knock into her while moving from pose to pose.  My ohm in jeopardy, I yelled (but only a little) for everyone to leave the room and return to their lunch unless they wanted to count my yoga DVD as a big chunk of their daily screen time.  Overall though, Quiet felt good.  I like it.

Today's Challenge:  The Balance Game.

Heat Wave Survival

It has been hot where we live.  Hot here and just about everywhere else, at least that's what the weather reports show.  I am sure I'm not alone as a mother in wondering how much more canned-cool air living her children can take without murdering each other.  Also, I am running out of creative indoor activities or outdoor quick-before-heatstroke-strikes games I can create.

The 9-year old daughter is crabby (but knows everything, and knows we are all wrong all the time).  The six-year old son's goofy sense of humor and knack for imitating his sister's voice is pushing her over the edge.  Me?  I am hanging on.  Barely.  Wine and chocolate time cannot come soon enough each day, and my quest to cut back on the days of the week I indulge in these soothers has been abandoned indefinitely.

I have decided to play a little game unbeknownst to the small people here to help me focus on somethings other than the heat, the dislike of a/c and what it does to my body/mind (ie:  smoky voice and headaches/mental autopilot with a stuck dimmer switch). 

So, in the spirit of all things Olympic (as we get closer to the Summer Games) and Olympian (as I make the effort to not be crabby and to make the summer adventurous and fun for my family), my first little quest for sanity game is this:  The Quiet Game.

It is easy to fall into the yelling trap.  Kids not listening when I've asked them (nicely and repeatedly) to make the beds?  Yell.  Kids roughhousing and bugging each other AGAIN?  Yell.  Kids (see a theme developing?) oh forget it, you get the picture.  It's not all them either.  I have just gotten lazy with the heat and stopped working as hard as I could with being the sort of mom who doesn't yell.  My bad.

Today, I will use quiet when I want to yell.  Count to ten, zip it and move on, ignore, whatever.  It should be interesting to see what effect it has on the rest of the house.  (Although, wine and chocolate might have to start at noon to win this game.)  Tomorrow, I'll let you know how it went.

The Birds, The Birds!!

I have never really understood the fascination some people have with birds and watching them intently.  My mind conjures up binoculars and safari hat attached to a badly camouflaged middle aged person in a tree.  Never got it that is,  until we moved out into the wild (Compared to living in Milwaukee for years, we live in the wild now.  Trust me.)  Plus, I really got scared from that Hitchcock movie.  You know the one.

Now, I keep my field guide of Wisconsin birds next to the deck window.  We have food for birds of all shapes and sizes, and they seem to love us for it.  We've got cardinals, blue jays, indigo buntings, hummingbirds, mourning doves, orioles (as they pass through...very exciting!), chickadees, and so many more.

Because of the sassy raccoon who likes to climb up at night to our second-story deck to wreak havoc (and cause Rob to wonder aloud if it will get in and kill us all in our beds), I bring in the feeders each night.  This is what has become of me:  I tend to get up before 5 a.m. (woken by the chaos of bird sounds) to take out the feeders, lest they find another place to flutter and perch.  So, I might not quite be the safari-hatted, binoculars-wearing, middle-aged yahoo....but I am closer to that little horror than I used to be, that's for sure.  That's ok.  It's worth it.

P.S.  Don't repeat this, but Rob's a little leary about the deer out here possibly attacking too.  Poor thing.

Quite Fancy

Delaney Jane has her first "high heels."  In reality, the heel is roughly one inch.  She loves them for their clickety-clack.  Yesterday she wore them after playing baseball with her shorts and t-shirt.  Ah, I love my big little girl.

Ouch!

Poor Aidan!  Sleeping too close to the edge of the bed + power outage in the middle of the night = disaster for him.  Luckily, it looks worse than it is.  It was a very active night, and we are all starting sleepier than usual. 

My Little Boy

He is getting so big.  When he asked me to knit this, I balked for a minute.  Then I realized that one of my children had (unprovoked) asked me to knit him a sweater (without being bribed in the least).  I knitted it with stitch-over letters so they could be removed later and with sleeves and body length that could be expanded with growth.  Today, he wore it to school.  It is unseasonable chilly, and I told him it would be like wearing a hug from his mom all day.  I realize the days of him enjoying the thought of his mother hugging him all day at school are numbered.  I plan to wring out every minute of it until then.

Peace in Pie

Yesterday, I really wanted to talk with my mom, to just sit down and talk about everything and nothing.  I had a dream the night before that we had talked about knitting or the weather or the kids or something.  I don't remember.  When I woke in the morning, I still had the warm feeling of having talked with her.  I decided that I needed to find a way to feel close to her during my awake time.  This pie recipe was something she'd always been proud of creating.  There is no crust recipe, just filling.  The crust is only mentioned briefly, and it is to be assumed that it is to be bought, unwrapped, thawed, and used.  Mine has a homemade crust, but the filling is what makes it homey.  The act of working from the recipe in my mom's handwriting is why I baked it.  I really miss her.  I will take her a slice to eat tomorrow, and watching her enjoy what she created will have to be enough.  

I am grateful for all the years of recipes and conversation, laughter and planning, wisdom and teaching, vacationing and gardening.  I was really quite lucky to have landed her for a mother.  I hope to pay it forward.

Decisions

Sometimes the big decisions aren't the ones that wear me down.  It's the multitude of littler things that intimidate me.  The act of getting started has been my toughest hurtle.  Knowing when it's time to make the plans, to sign the papers, to announce what's going on...that's my downfall.  This spring will bring some big hurtles that need to be cleared.  It won't be fun but necessary, nonetheless.  There is comfort in facing the inevitable.  There is peace in meeting the future head on.

Lucky enough (on St. Patrick's Day as a person with some Irish descent) to see this beauty near Lake Geneva, WI.  It was a full rainbow, actually a double, with the top of the arc disappearing in storm clouds and reappearing out the other side.  Significant, I'd say.

What an Adventure!

Our "Two by Land and Two by Sea" adventure almost a month ago was a perfect break from the ordinary.  We each took one child and took off.  Rob and Delaney cruised aboard an aircraft carrier up the west coast.  Aidan and I shadowed them by land, driving almost 1,000 miles beginning in San Francisco to meet them in Washington. 

We two began Day One with a quiet lunch on Fisherman's Warf, Alcatraz in the background.  A glass of wine to reward myself for getting us this far without incident, chicken nuggets for Aidan for the same reason.  It was good to have time to snuggle and talk and explore with my little boy.

A couple of days later, we were in the thick of it.  Far from civilization with no Starbucks or McDonald's in sight (see, I used both of our perspectives here), huge trees, clean air, glimpses of the ocean here and there, nothing but time on our hands with very little planned.  Aahh, bliss!

What a stunningly beautiful part of our country.  Hours of driving with nothing to amuse a five year old except for two Lego action figures and the passing scenery (and not a word of complaint...impressive).   

Delaney and Rob had left San Diego by this time and were out on the open sea.  No contact by phone or email.  They turned out to be quite seaworthy:  no sea-sickness in rough seas.  Rob said that Delaney slept like a baby being rocked by the waves.  

On our way through the redwood forests of the great Northwest......and around the same time on the same day, far out at sea....

I did not like to think of those two (especially her) on that flight deck with no railings, out on the vast ocean.  I told Rob that if anything should happen to her, he need not come back.  However (!), I was glad for her opportunity to be there (Thanks, Jim!) and happy she could have her dad to herself for awhile (and he to have her).

We four reunited and enjoyed a weekend in Seattle.  It was quite an adventure, the first of its kind and many more to come.

  Peace!

Delaney is 9

Today, my baby girl is 9 years old.  She is a wonder of a human child.  Sensitive, strong, loving, neurotic (just a little bit), smart, curious, beautiful, talented, and she has an adventurous spirit.  It is fascinating to watch her unfold before our eyes.  I love her, because for now she is mine, and I love her for the person she is yet to become.  What a gift to truly enjoy spending time with her.  Happy Birthday, Delaney Jane.