Archive | Interests RSS feed for this section

Sweet Spree

6 Aug

There was the white sweatshirt with neon-colored, glow-in-the-dark hand prints all over it. There were the jam shorts. The coolots.  The acid wash jeans. That one white jean shorts overall piece with polka dots that really made my collection complete. (Rocked that one the first day of school.) All of it added up to hours of me in a dressing room and mountains of the latest department store styles.

I have very fond memories of those sprees with my dad from when I was a pre-teen. Wild fashion sense aside, of course. It was cool that he would let me pick out what I wanted – giving me the chance to feel independent and content with my choices.

This was the first year that Nia really wanted to contribute like that. She’s always been an easy shopper. I could hold something up, ask her if she liked it, and more times than not, she would. Done. This year though, she told me the stores she wanted to shop at (Justice, Crazy 8’s and Target) and walked in knowing the style she wanted.

We had so much fun. She seemed so confident about what she wanted, especially the zebra print belt and shiny heeled sneakers. We giggled in the dressing room when she tried on jeans and they were gigantic on her. She didn’t even have to unbutton them to get them on and off. Two Beans could fit in there. Each time she would grab one of my size 10 selections (just in case, you know?) that made her disappear, she would tell me, “See? I told you I was an 8.”

She is so excited to wear all of her new clothes and I didn’t have the heart to make her wait until school to wear her heeled sneaks. (I also wanted to make sure she could walk in them and they didn’t hurt her feet.) She wore them around the house as soon as we got home and then to the grocery store the next day. She wants others to adore them as much as she does, expressing disappointment as we left the store, “Nobody said anything about my shoes.”

image

I love that you love them, Bean. I have a feeling they are only a glimpse of what’s ahead and hope shopping together is something we always enjoy.

Tags: ,

Run Crier

22 Jul

Well, that was a first. I started blubbering during the start of what was supposed to be my 50-minute run this morning. It wasn’t because of anything sad, painful or inspirational. Those are understandable reasons to get worked up to tears.

No, for me, it was because my music wouldn’t work and because I’m getting sick to my stomach thinking about the looming 10K (my first) that is three weeks away and I have yet to run more than five miles in any of my training – or ever in my life for that matter.

I am a bag of nerves and it all exploded during this run. Here it is:

Cry Run

I gave up. Quit. Walked home. Bawling. Andrew gave me a sincere and supportive pep talk, I pouted and beat myself up for quitting. I thought, “Why am I doing this to myself? Don’t I have enough pressure with the day-to-day stuff of work, home and family? I’m voluntarily adding to it with running? Shouldn’t this be fun?!”

Smack, smack. Attitude adjustment. I gave myself a few minutes to cool off and told Andrew I wanted to try again. My music still didn’t work and it was so hot and humid but I pushed myself on – with a few walking breaks.

Do Over

The 6.2 mile run is in three weeks. I am two miles away from running it during these training runs. I don’t want to even feel the inkling to quit – even if my music does.

I want to cry during that run because I’m proud of myself. A happy, strong cry. I feel I can do it and I know the pressure I put on myself is because I want to be stronger in spirit and body. I want to be a proud run crier.

Tags: , ,

Hurdled

18 Jul

They may have rattled me but I didn’t let them deter me from my 30 minutes of training. It turns out, the hurdles made my run far more entertaining than usual.

  • The Rain – It was a challenge before it even started because of the sprinkles. My attitude was already whiny and the rain almost swayed me out of lacing up my sneaks. I didn’t let it win though and set out on my damp 2-point-whatever mile jaunt around the blocks.
  • The Dog – Well, at least it was a friendly, jumpy dog. I made a turn and then thought I heard yelling. I made a quick about-face and came snout to hip with a happy Lab mix. Its owner came running after it and told me how sorry he was – that the pup just has a lot of love to share. Besides the change in my pace (I was averaging a good time for me when it all happened) and the doggy drool on my sleek black running shorts, I didn’t mind it in the slightest. After all, it was a friendly dog. (Phew.)
  • The Middle School Hecklers – I’m not quite sure what exactly they were screaming at me from the window of their house but  I made out that it was pretty funny by their laughing fits after shouting. I think I heard something about me “really running fast now … whatever!” I thought about all the ways I could react as I ran by again (because my route requires me to). Should I creatively give them the middle finger? Should I stop and face them dead-on and yell like a lunatic about how hilarious they are? Should I just ignore it and pretend like I didn’t hear it? Of course, I chose that one. I actually thought to myself how I remember doing stupid things like that when I was in middle (*ahem, high) school. Cruising by Burger King’s drive-thru with my friends screaming, “I want a Whopper!” at the top of my lungs comes to mind. Also, I mean, why should I stoop to a middle schooler’s level? I know they were middle schoolers, by the way, because their voices haven’t quite made that turn to high school male yet. (Ok, so I had to get one shot in … what?)
  • The Music Fail – One of the reasons I could hear them shouting those sarcastic words of praise and support at me is because my music failed. This is probably the main mental jolt that bugs me the most during a run. It frustrates me to the point of cussing. Granted, I had some things to distract my brain during this run …
  • The Perky Runner – And boy, was she perky. I encountered this new neighborhood runner at about 20 minutes in. I was tired and had just endured all the other earlier hurdles and then she made an appearance. She was bouncy. Really. Bright pink tank top. Ponytail dancing. I breathed a weighted smile at her and slouched by. My music then decided to work again. “Clocks” by Coldplay. Baby Nia’s favorite song. We would play it and she would just chill. I was better now. I ran up the “big hill” in the neighborhood and my earbuds informed me “25 minutes.” I turned to head home – and saw pink tank top in the distance. Only, her ponytail wasn’t in jazz mode. It was more in a calm ballet. She was walking. I know (I know) I shouldn’t compare. I am out there for me and to get healthier for my family. It was just a slap in my attitude that I needed. When I saw her all perky, I let it make me feel less than. When I saw her minus the perk, I felt upset with myself for letting another person influence my spirit.

It was an adventurous 30 minutes. Reflecting, I’m glad the rain didn’t keep me inside – hurdling mental obstacles feels healthy.

Tags:

Our Trip to C-Town

26 Jun

There’s a lot of space under that bed …

“I’m not going to Crazy Town tonight,” Andrew told me as we settled in our beautiful, historic room at the John Rutledge House Inn for the weekend.

I had just asked him to look under the bed to make sure nobody (or ghost body) was under there.

Not even in Charleston, SC for 30 minutes and I’m already testing his reasons for marrying me almost 12 years ago. Fitting, because this trip was serving as the honeymoon we’ve never taken. Two days after we were married, Andrew left for six weeks of training in California. Then, a few resting months after that, he deployed for six months to Kosovo. After that, we set off together to buy a house and have a baby and then another deployment to Iraq and well, 12 years later, here we are in Crazy Town.

We wanted to go somewhere within reasonable driving distance, somewhere we’d never been and somewhere featuring one of our favorite things, good beer. Charleston was hosting a beer festival during the weekend our children would be in West Virginia with family so it was on.

We enjoyed our drive there and back. It featured discussions about General Sherman burning stuff (forever an inside joke between us now), me reading us history facts about Charleston, and talk radio by the megabyte that Andrew has stored on his phone.

10 and 2

We didn’t arrive at the Inn until midnight but enjoyed goofing off in the ballroom for a minute and sampling the complimentary brandy and sherry.

Statue Pose

The next morning, we ran through the city before others were awake and garbage was collected. The streets felt like ours for a few minutes and a few blocks. We talked when I could (I was running after all) and spotted incredible buildings and stores we might be interested in checking out during our later walk. We even ran alongside rivers where they meet up near a beautiful park.

After our run, we had a delicious breakfast of our choosing brought to our room. It was glorious. We filled out a card and put it on the doorknob before we fell asleep each night. We didn’t skimp on our selection.

Bedroom Breakfast

We loved our walks through downtown – even a painfully long one for me in flats and at high noon when we missed the trolley to the beer fest. This 2+ mile walk came after our 4+ mile morning run and 2+ morning stroll. We needed that brew.

Cheers, we made it!

We arrived at the fest excited to sample and enjoy. It wasn’t exactly what we were expecting but we still had a great time with each other. We talked with people and devoured cheese fries and then decided to head back to our room early – in a taxi. (Best $8 of the trip.)

We had plans to dine somewhere fancy that evening. I even packed a strapless dress and heels, ready to hit the night life. Only thing – we decided to rest for a bit. That was around 6:30. We woke up around 9:30, too zonked to move out of bed.

The next morning, Andrew went for a solo run while I sank deeper into the heavenly memory foam mattress because I hadn’t changed positions much through the night. We enjoyed another bedroom breakfast and then walked next door to go to church.

Rolled out of bed and into church

Up for another stroll, we set off for more exploring and I’m so glad we did. We discovered a large market area and bought treasures for the kids. After a good early bird (without the discount) dinner, we headed home, feeling content and so lucky to have been able to spend that time together – even if it neared Crazy Town for a bit. Besides, I think he already agreed to go there with me when he said “yeah, sure” at the altar.

Time to start thinking about our next trip …

Tags: , , , , ,

Recital Night Notes

12 Jun

After three years of being an unofficial dance mom, you’d think I’d have the tricks for a double recital (about 8 hours in performance mode) down a little better. These are some of my notes from this year to help me for next:

  • Many moms use clothing racks to wheel all their child’s costumes and keep them crisp and easy to sort through during the quick changes. I use one hanger. One hanger for four costumes, a t-shirt and shorts. I’m thinking about getting a rack if Nia’s costume supply grows. Also, if for nothing else, to reserve our spot in the dressing room. Which brings me to the next thing …
  • Racks are the boss. I had Nia’s costumes and accessories all nicely waiting in a small spot near her other dancing buds. I got there earlier than half the room to make sure I’d have a space because I stress about this. I get anxious. (I’m weird about crowds and having an area to work.) Well, a mom who was armed with a rack big enough for three girls’ fancies parked right in front of Nia’s things. I got a little flustered but handled it as “me” as I could. “Um, excuse me. Let me just grab our things … (mumble) that were already here and ready to go …” I probably still won’t get a rack but even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to shove others around.
  • I missed the memo about good snack ideas. Pringles seem to be the chip of choice. I’m thinking it has to do with the tube to prevent crumbs during transit and dressing turmoil. Nia didn’t seem to mind that she was pretty much the only one without the tube of salty crunchies. After all, I couldn’t find Pringles dill pickle chips. I just dumped the dill pickle chips I did have in a plastic container. Voilá. My version of the tube. I will remember grapes and cheese squares next year though. Chippies make for a great mood changer treat but healthy is best!
  • Kind of in line with moods, baby wipes are a must next year for erasing makeup smudges after the very tired performer understandably gets emotional because “I need more lipstick!” or “People are stepping on my blanket!” or “My feet hurt!” (Nia held it together without tears but I want to be prepared.) The outbursts I did witness are quite comical to me because they are usually over nothing and the drama is so overboard only the Coast Guard with a helicopter rope could rescue it from sinking. Or maybe chips …
  • I need to remember slippers and a robe or a wrap to help with Nia’s privacy concerns and comfort.
  • For goodness sakes mom (me) remember the dang body spray glitter! All the girls sparkle with it and it seems like the amount of glitter on both mom and daughter the next morning is directly related to amount of fun had the night before.
  • Bring the makeup remover with us so Nia doesn’t look like an underage college student after a night of hitting bars that don’t card. Also, to help keep her eyes from swelling shut due to sensitivity to the stuff that shouldn’t be on her face yet. Remove it ASAP!
  • This one I don’t really have to remind myself about but I want to always remember that in the craziness of the night, keep my smile and let the happy tears fall, cherishing these years of watching her grow into a young lady. I love being able to give her special one-on-one attention and praise. I want to always be her biggest fan and source of encouragement – and, of course, ready with her emergency dance chips.

Tags: , ,

You Shine, I Smile (And Cry)

6 Jun

Will I always cry when you shine on stage, Bean? Tonight, during your third year of recital dress rehearsals, as usual, I couldn’t hold back the tears.

You look so grown up. You look so happy. You look beautiful. You impress me.

I’m so proud of you for remembering all of the routines. (Four this year with ballet, jazz, tap and clogging.) You worked hard all year to get those dances down and were brave to try out clogging before you even knew what it was. Turns out, you truly shine when you clog. I can tell you are having so much fun. My heart is overjoyed. Thank you for giving it a try and for never giving up when you messed up or felt a little tired. My emotions surrender to your spirit. And, your quick-stepping shoes.

Tags: , ,

Reckless Bidder

3 Jun

Lesson learned. Although, it’s a lesson I should have already known really.

If you don’t have a way to get it home, don’t buy it. Especially when you’re trying to get a deal. Renting a truck or paying for delivery would defeat the entire score.

Silly me to think that someone else would outbid my $100 for a large octagon-shaped wood table and chairs at a recent auction. Silly.

Andrew would likely use a different word to describe my action but he’s known me for some years now so there are things he’s used to – like how to react when I text him that I spent money on something that we don’t need and I can’t drive it home in my car – or his. He texts back, “Ok. Now what? We don’t have a truck.”

My response: “I know this.”

He can tell I’m now both stressed about my reckless purchase and unhappy with his response to my buyer’s remorse.

“We can strap it to the roof?”

“Yes.”

“Take a picture so I can see what I’m dealing with.”

Minutes later, he calls me and tells me he has a master plan.

Minutes after that, he pulls up to the auction in our neighbor’s pickup truck. (Rescued by dear friends!)

I can tell he doesn’t love (or even like) the table but he is a good friend and comedian and pokes fun at me by saying things like, “I had to be the guy who borrows his neighbor’s truck.” And something about “putting the cart before the horse.”

Now that it’s in our house, I’m not even sure I love it but it did help that after a few hours of it in its new spot, Andrew told me he thinks it’s a nice addition. (Even after all the jokes.)

Sold! – to the person who can’t get it home!

I have high hopes of refinishing it and then having it for a game/puzzle table. Eventually, when the next age group of “toys” replace the ones that live in our family room now, we will have a bar and finally hang my stained glass poker-table light that I’ve had for years to spice it up some.

In the meantime, I’m thinking we need to invest in a truck. I wonder if any are being auctioned …

Tags: , ,

Propelled

12 May

Acting on inspiration and motivation isn’t always easy. Sometimes, the moments slap you in the face and wake you up from a funk or rut. Sometimes, you fight them off and resist giving in to their magic. I would say I lived in the world of resistance. I just didn’t feel like being inspired or motivated and I didn’t have the confidence to really try to act on it.

Then, after months of watching others who felt like they couldn’t do it succeed, I thought to myself, “What the hay? Might as well give it a go. Worst that could happen is I look ridiculous or injure myself. If I don’t like it, I’ll just stop and try something else.”

I knew I would be bummed if I gave up so I set my expectations low. So low, that I didn’t make it known that I was attempting to follow the inspiration. So low, that I didn’t invest in myself or set high goals.

I put on my very old trail sneakers and well-worn yoga pants and stepped on the treadmill.

I started there, nervous to be seen on my neighborhood streets. I would walk and run and walk and run. I would try to run for an entire song. Rock! I did it. The next time, I would try to run for two entire songs. Oh yeah! Ten minutes straight? Man, that felt so good.

The treadmills at my gym automatically stopped at 45 minutes so I had a small goal to beat that time. Run/walk a 5k before it boots me off. I got so close one day. So close. I felt proud of my attempt but still frustrated. I thought maybe I should step out of my comfort zone a little more and try running through my neighborhood.

It was wonderful. I loved it. I felt faster and less focused on my running. It made the distance and time fly. (To me.) I started to understand why my husband and my good friends loved running. Inever thought I would love running – and there are times when I really hate it, but I keep going. Propelled by my determination to succeed and feel healthy.

For true runners, this is like breathing for them. I am not a true runner in the sense of speed and distance. I do now feel like a true runner in the sense of my heart is in it. It makes me feel empowered. I am accomplishing something I never thought I could. (I even bought real running shoes and running clothes!)

I am writing about this because I understand when someone says, “I am not a runner.” I was there. I still feel like that sometimes. But now, I’m on a mission to prove myself wrong. I may not be as fast as many people or have incredible form or able to run as far, but I run my race and I’m getting stronger in body and soul.

It’s moving me forward.

Image

My farthest run so far.

Tags: , ,

Passion to Play

1 May

Sometimes, all I can say is wow. Wow. Did Nate just do that? How was he so quick? How did he see that happening? How did he know to do that?

At 6 years old, Nate knows more about the rules and design of baseball than many adults. (I still don’t get that infield fly rule.) Nate pays attention. He knows where the runners are and what he needs to do to help make the out. Tag the base. Tag the runner. Throw it to Second. Cover a base. He thinks without hesitation. He watches every move on the diamond, even when he’s not on it. In the dugout, he and his buddy, Jack, cling to the fence,  focused on the field excitement and anxiously awaiting their turns to bat.

I know that as they all get older, more and more players will grasp, practice and perfect all that is baseball. Now though, I just stand jaw-dropped watching Nate’s passion to play guide him out there. I was so amazed at a recent catch he made for an out while playing shortstop that I missed the immediate second out he made when he ran to Second Base to tag the runner heading toward him.

I did manage to capture some pre-wow pictures during that game. He just has so much heart and intensity. The love of the game is an incredible thing.

image

Makes a Catch for an Out

image

Super Stretch to Make the Catch for an Out

image

Finally, time to hit!

image

Got It!

image

Played Hard

Tags:

Waiting on a Catch

21 Apr

The feeling is so distinct. It has been years since I experienced it directly but I remember it each time I watch Nate on the baseball field. It’s like I can almost sense it through him.

He waits – eager, aware, knees slightly bent, ready to run, glove out, his free fist punches it to make it awake and prepared for something spectacular – a catch.

"Baseball Ready" by Dodgers' Mom, Amber

I remember what that felt like. The want of it is incredible and powerful.

Let’s go, batter. Hit it to me. I dare you. With the clang of the bat, the ball flies above the field. Above the pitcher. Above Second Base. It’s close to me. I got it. It’s mine! I run for it. Empty glove out. The slap of the ball. Heavy glove. Cheers. Elation. Ready for another.

I wasn’t a star softball player. I would actually call myself average but that doesn’t take away from that feeling. Now, I as watch Nate, I know he feels it too. He wants to field that ball. He wants the catch. He will dive out in the air for it. He’s made a few and missed a few, too. It seems the ones you miss make the ones you snag so much sweeter.

I’m thankful Nate and Andrew let me play outfield for them when they practice. I still can’t shake that feeling. Come on, Nate. Hit me a pop-up.

Waiting for my Catch

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →