Andrew: Should I register anyone else for the race? There is a 1K.
me: What is a 1k? Like 500 meters or something?
Andrew: It is about 2/3 of a mile.
me: Maybe just Nate if anyone.
I don’t know.
Andrew: Aaaaaand it is 1000 meters (hence the 1 “K”)
me: oooooooooh
you married me
Andrew: And I would do it again.
Me, awake in fear, to Andrew: I hate weather like this.
Andrew, mostly asleep: I love it. (Goes back to sleep.)
Me: That doesn’t help me.
***
I wish I could have a shot glass amount of his (all-natural) no stress attitude.
Seriously though, how do people “love it”? I really think it’s all talk to help them not be afraid. They are trying to convince themselves to not be scared out of their skin each time the ground and house rattles with a larger-than-life, out of our control, boom from nature. I’d rather not poke an angry bear. “Nah, nah, nah! I’m not afraid of you!” BOOM. I feel bad enough downplaying my fear to the kids to help ease their fears. Maybe you storm luvahs are just trying to be the calm, sane one in the room?
If you really do “love storms” and can “sleep so well through them” (like I’ve heard people say), please tell me what specifically it is about the flashes of fierce light, rumbles of sky, and wind that tears trees and houses to pieces that you adore so much. It may help my stress level.
That is, if you can get me out from under the covers.
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Nia's Note from her Heart
Such treasures can be found in a child’s classwork. This week, Nia’s pile of graded math and spelling tests contained a note to her 30-year-old self. It was a pink heart, decorated with her hand-drawn hearts, and filled with thoughts that range from “aw” to “ha!” and then back to “aw” again.
Because I couldn’t capture all of her words in the picture above, here is what she wrote:
Dear 30-year-old Nia,
You need to take care of me! You can take care of me by getting enough sleep at night. You could also take care of me by eating at Subway (if you go to eat out) and pick out baked chips. You could exercise and go to races and smile for other people and cheer for them as they go by.
Love,
Nia’s Heart
I love so much about this. The Subway commercial is hilarious but her thought that cheering on people in races would be good for her heart is so beautiful. Eight-year-old Nia really knows what makes a sweet heart. I hope her 30-year-old self hangs on to it and keeps it safe.
From Runkeeper.com
This is huge for me. I am so close to my goal of running a 5K straight through. Sure, this was just in the neighborhood, but I felt so great and strong as I headed home that last little bit. I just wish I would have judged my distance better so I would have made it the complete 3.16 miles.
My next official 5K race is in a week. I’m excited for it. I believe in myself! (Just like the little boy who learned how to ride his bike and gave this awesome speech.)
I am not much of a dancer. I love to dance, but it doesn’t love me very much. I took dancing lessons when I was a child, but I had happy blinders on back then and only felt the joy of it, not the embarrassment. I dance in the kitchen when I’m cooking. I dance in front of the kids who only laugh when I really exaggerate my skills. (Their laughs make me happy so I actually exaggerate a lot around them. Plus, I don’t want them to ever be afraid to break it down like their mom.) I can’t even dance with my husband. (One of the reasons I was so happy my wedding dress covered my feet.) I’ve tried to dance in a dance-exercise class, but the other adult students, the instructors and the mirrors all made me feel self-conscious. It was all on me though. No one was being mean to me to make me feel that way. I was not being kind to myself and I never really felt encouraged. Then, my friend, Leigh, invited me to go to a Zumba class with her at a local church. I had attended another Zumba class once before because everyone talked about how fun it was. I ended up feeling like I always do. Well, that was a downer.
I remember the way I felt before meeting Leigh for the class. I didn’t want to go. I told myself, go to see Leigh and burn some calories. It was going to help my health. I’m so glad I convinced myself.
This Zumba class is special because of its instructor. Her name is Debbie and she has a refreshing spirit and uplifting smile. When I’m there, my mind doesn’t tell me I’m not good at it. Sure, it helps that there aren’t any mirrors, but I believe it comes down to Debbie’s personality and the friendly faces I see there each time I go. Leigh is a huge fan of Debbie’s and told me I should write a post about her for the Barrow Patch because her story may inspire others. Interviewing her made me feel like a journalist again. It was wonderful. I did get nervous before writing the post because I’m so used to writing all about me, me, me, but once I sat down to do it, I felt great.
Dancing did that. Maybe it likes me more than I thought it did. And even if it doesn’t, I don’t care. It’s impossible for me to hip shake or do the Running Man move without smiling.
It was windy and cold and so worth every minute out in the Tybee Island air. The 2012 Tybee Run Fest featured friends and family and lots of running fun.
Andrew ran in all five races – the 5K on Friday and then the 10K, Half Marathon, 2.8 Mile Beach Run and the Mile on Saturday – a full marathon all together. Nate joined Andrew in the Mile run and had such a fun time running and watching the other racers finish. For me, I ran in the 5K (along with running buds Ginger and Lee) and I consider it my first “race” because it was the first one I really trained for.
I ran that 5K in 34:45 / 11:13 per mile average pace. I felt proud and couldn’t wait to go enjoy pizza and beer with Andrew, Ginger and Lee post-run.
Andrew ran all of his races and proclaimed he would never do it again. With as fun as this weekend was, I find that hard to believe.
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Ever since the kids started exchanging valentines, I’ve been a buy-the-ready-to-go-box kind of mom. (Nothing wrong it!) The kids were happy. They got to pick out their favorite character or design and have a treat to share. I’m sure their buddies didn’t mind. They got the treat. I was happy. It was quick and easy for me and the kids were happy. But this year, I saw something I fell in love with and looked like even the uncraftiest of uncrafty people (me) could craft. Especially when I saw there was a template I could use!
"Caped Cute-sader" from familyfun.go.com
I was still a little nervous when Nia and I sat down to start creating but after a few traces and Nia’s smile through all of it, I knew they were coming out great!
Happy Crafter
Almost in costume
Faster than an owl trying to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop
Once I felt like I could conquer this cardstock and glue craft, I granted Nia’s wishes to make these heart flowers.
"Friendship Blossoms" from familyfun.go.com
Ours didn’t come out exactly like the website picture …
Drawing the heart was tough!
Well, Nia loved them so that’s all that matters to me. Hope your Valentine’s Day is “super” and full of “bud-dies!”
"See, mommy? It looks like a flower!"
Flowers for Friends
And he knows how to use it.
Ok, ok, ok. Before I begin, I must make a few things clear.
Back to the dad and his gun. If you don’t know what I’m talking about I promise I won’t laugh at you for being out of the social media loop this past week. (I actually might be jealous of you because you haven’t been exposed to the excitement around the video. And now, I will ruin that for you.)
Basically, a teenage daughter vents on facebook about her parents and the chores she has to do using bad words and typical teen angst. She apparently has been punished for this before so the dad, understandably, has had it. He reads her facebook vent to the camera and then shoots her laptop eight times so that she will now have to earn back her privileges. To see the whole thing for yourself:
I am fine with the fact that he is upset and wants to punish her. I just feel like I’m in the minority of those who may not support the way he went about it – or their “way to go/great parenting” spirit. Again, I’m not targeting the gun – for me, it’s more about the destruction and the possible public embarrassment to his daughter that he created. Sure, he may have felt upset and embarrassed by her vent but he is the adult. How is what he did better than what she did? What example did he set? Have a problem? Destroy it. I’ve seen people comment that he should have donated the laptop. I agree. That shows respect and consideration of others. Seems like a good teaching lesson.
My other issue is it must be challenging to parent in today’s social media world. I am so grateful I didn’t have facebook when I was teen. The things I wrote in my diary were awful. I vented a lot. And now I have a wonderful relationship with my parents. If they acted like this father did should they happen to read my vents, I don’t think I would regret my writings, but resent my parents for crushing me like that. I was a teen. TEEN. Not an adult. There’s supposed to be a difference there, right?
My last concern with this whole thing is my conspiracy theory mind can’t help but think this dad is doing this all for publicity for his book and his company. (His facebook page is quite a popular place and it was really easy for me to find his book on Amazon.)
Yeah, I said it was my conspiracy theory mind.
I suppose I just needed to vent myself. Some of you may agree but I have a feeling many more of you will not – I just hope any of you who disagree keep my laptop out of your sights.
I’m beginning to realize how difficult it must be to be committed to me. Besides my random and extreme mood swings, I expect Andrew to be an expert in a variety of fields and a problem solver on any given day. A sample of the questions (I’m hoping others have asked them too) I fire at him include:
How many more miles can I drive after my gas tank dings at me? Can I make it home? Are you sure?
Why did he do that? Who is that guy? Or other questions about movies and tv shows that we are both watching for the first time. His response is usually along the lines of, “Started watching this the same time you did.”
How big is the wall by the closet door in our hall downstairs? In inches?
What do you feel like eating for dinner tonight/this week? (This is often a bigger issue than it seems. I just can never decide and he doesn’t care what we eat.)
What’s Joey barking at?
What tax bracket are we in? Should we refinance? What’s our credit rating? What’s that mean? Can I buy a new table for the living room?
Are my tires low on air?
The toilet is doing that running while not being flushed thing. (Not really a question but it is implied he is being asked to do something.)
What was that noise?! Did you hear it? No? Can you check it out? (Usually asked once he is settled in bed ready for his slumber.)
Do you think Nate has a concussion? (Because suddenly Andrew is a doctor or nurse.)
Can you please pick up my birth control pills for me? (On the flip-side of that…) Can you pretty please pick up some tampons for me? Pleeeeaaaase?
What wine/beer do I like?
Who was the president before Lincoln? What is the capital of Alabama? How many senators are there in each state? How do you get the area of something? Will that stool hold you? Are you sure?
I think out of all the questions, me not taking his advice or the “are you sure ones” drive him the most bonkers. He especially loves when his sure-ness is justified. He brings me proof, “See? Here are the Christmas floor mats I told you would be in the tree box.” Me: “Where were they?” Andrew: “The. Tree. Box.”
Ok, ok, already.
Are you going to put them there again?
There’s no rest for the weary.
That’s what Andrew has told me. We both know the saying has more to do with those who work a lot and are tired but he said it to me because of the constant worry I weigh on myself.
I’m starting to force myself to realize that some (most) of my worry wastes my heart and soul. Especially after days like today where Nate got a behavior note home or other days when the kids have fevers or Andrew is told he needs to travel for work or is laid off or the car breaks down or sad news comes in a phone call from family. All of those things slap me in the face as a wake up call of things that justify worry. Things that don’t justify worry are things like another day or work, commuting, homework, grades, headaches, cleaning and what’s for dinner. Sure, I should care about all of that but I shouldn’t let those things dictate my emotions.
No rest for the weary. And no smiles on days filled with wasted worry.
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Are You Zhazha? 
Say what?