Baseball Brain

18 Aug

Silly momma. I thought it would be fun to test Nate’s baseball knowledge one night at dinner. I spoke it to him like a math word problem while he spooned up the last of his peas on his plate.

“If you’re playing Third base and there’s a runner on First and the batter hits a grounder to you and the First Base runner is coming for Third, what should you do?”

I was expecting a simple response like, “Throw it to First.” Instead, Nate replied, “I would tag the runner and throw it to get the batter out or I could throw it to Second so he could get the batter and then he could throw it back to me so we could have the runner in a pickle.”

Of course he’s always thinking about making a double play! How could I have expected anything less? What I love most about his answer is that he thinks about baseball in the same way I used to act out my Barbie scenes as a child. His imagination comes to life with such different subjects than I’m used to. His “pickle” was my Barbie cliffhanger.

Love his baseball brain.

 

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Headed Down the Atlanta Highway

15 Aug

There’s an intersection along the Atlanta Highway that I encounter every workday. It doesn’t offer me a love shack with a rusted tin roof like the song suggests but it provides me with an array of scenes to take in.

There’s the row of train stop buildings that remind me of an old western town. The open lot with a homes and businesses nearby. The dressed up small town signs guiding visitors. And, my favorite, a bakery that emits the tempting smell of doughy freshness if you hit the red light at just the right time of day.

That’s about all I like about that red light. It is my nemesis. Always shining the color of fire down on me. Even if it was just green for a second, as soon as I get within crossing distance – RED. It’s really fine though. I find more humor than frustration in it. After all, I have quite a few other sights to enjoy along my drive to and from work.

  • Inspiration: the older woman I see jogging along the busy stretch of road every other day.
  • Hilarity with an added ew-factor: the sign in front of a house promising, “Rooster livers for sale.”
  • Hints from the past: aged farm houses with wide windows meant to take in the view.
  • What a view: the passing, thundering trains that I “race” on any given day. Being that they don’t interfere with my commute (I don’t have to cross the tracks), I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing them. They take me away from my thoughts for the moment, as I let my mind decide what the trains must be carrying, where they are going, what does that graffiti say?

Oh, and what do you know? Turns out there is a love shack (of sorts) at the end of one of my drives. Home.

A Backpack, Boyfriend(?), and Other Back-to-School Stuff

13 Aug

As Nia and Nate made their way up the hill to the bus stop for the first day of school, my mind flashed back to last year. Sweet siblings. Kindergartener brother and Third Grader sister, holding hands as they made the walk together for the first time.

Sibling Sweetness – 2011

It’s funny to think what a difference a school year can make. Right after I took the photo below, now First Grader Nate darted across the street, making sure he’d beat us all to the corner of the street.

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School Siblings, See ya! 2012

The kids were very excited to start this new year. Nate is digging the thought of getting bigger (and maybe getting to stay up later like Nia gets to sometimes). Nia, meanwhile, had been hoping for the teacher she got. When the letter arrived a week ago, she repeated over and over as Andrew opened it, “I hope it’s Mrs. Ballard. I hope it’s Mrs. Ballard.” Andrew tricked her and acted like it wasn’t but just as soon as he saw her face turn to disappointment, he gave her the announcement she wanted. Her face beamed. She then wanted to trick me like her daddy did to her. When I got home, she had a sad face and handed me the letter, “I really wanted Mrs. Ballard.” “Oh, I’m sorry Bean.” I looked at the letter and then looked up to her giggly, happy self. Apparently, she and Andrew rehearsed the trick.

She was so happy to be headed back to school that she didn’t even let a little girl get her down at the bus stop when she turned Nia around to see her back and then sneered, “That’s last year’s bag!” Nia told me she replied, “So? Actually, I’ve had it for three years. It’s a really sturdy bag.” I am always amazed at how she manages to be so cool against cruelty. Even more impressive? Nia was playing with the little girl, along with Nate and another friend, in our front yard when I got home after work. I need to take lessons from Bean’s heart and attitude.

Bean also had some discussions with a boy today about if she still had a “boyfriend.” Her response to this also cracks me up, “I don’t know. You should ask him. Why do you want to know anyways?” We gave her the talk that she doesn’t need to worry about any of that business. Just have friends. Something she insists is all she is with this other boy. “We’re just friends!” she says with animation and giggles. Sigh.

Nate was rewarded for good behavior with silver sticks next to his name and didn’t get any warning sticks. (Phew.) I’m hoping him “winning” the good deed sticks will help him keep his eye on the prize. You know, learning and all – while staying out of trouble, of course. Now, if he would just eat the fruit and veggies I pack for him …

I hope this year brings them fond memories and expands their brains enough to be able to play Apples to Apples with us without much explanation. After all, that’s why I had kids – breeding adorable, capable board game opponents is tough.

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First and Fourth Graders!

Need a Mommy Mulligan

12 Aug

Wow, I feel like I really blew that one. I wish it didn’t matter to me so much. Why does it? Why did I need Nate to wear nicer clothes (polo/khaki shorts, etc.) on the first day of school? I mostly think it’s because I want to take that obligatory first day photo where the kids are all decked out in their new duds. But that’s what I want, not what my kids necessarily want – and that should matter, right? I should let them have a say in how they’ll be dressed in that picture, right?

It’s just, based off the outfit that Nate picked out himself (by himself), his First Grade first day would’ve been captured like this:

  • Gray “fast” shorts (basically, athletic shorts) with a bright orange stripe down the sides
  • His new black sneaks
  • A white graphic t-shirt with a tiger and a monkey rockers in shades
  • Spiderman character socks

I told him that he could for sure wear that on Tuesday, except for the Spidey socks because they really didn’t match, but I wanted him to wear a polo shirt and dress shorts for the first day. He could even wear his new sneaks. He expressed his displeasure in many whines and dramatics, even telling me his new sneaks would look “weird” with the nicer clothes.

That’s when I spoke what I wish I could un-speak. I told him I wondered why that would look weird but the non-matching Spiderman socks with the non-matching shorts and shirt doesn’t look weird to him. He paused, defeated. I felt like a jerk. After all, the little man picked out that band tee outfit all by himself and laid it all out ready to go. It was something he would feel good wearing on the first day. I walked out and told him I’d steam his tee.

He came to me and said, “What about my nice shirt with the guitars?” I hugged him with tears in my eyes and talked to him about why it mattered to me like it did but that I should have considered his feelings more.

We compromised. He’s now wearing his polo shirt that has guitars on the chest with nicer shorts and he plans to wear the shirt he really wanted to wear on the first day – a violent looking doughnut tee that he thinks is funny (forced mom smile) – on the second day. (Turns out, I found a small hole that needs stitched in the band tee. I swear I didn’t put it there.)

The best line of the whole ordeal was Andrew asking me, “Did you tell him, ‘You go to school to learn not for a fashion show’?” (Thank you, Fresh Prince.)

I guess I need to take some of that advice. Besides, I have a feeling uniforms are on the way …

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Didn’t Look Back

11 Aug

I had a goal. To finish my first 10K. Then, I made it tougher on myself. In my head, I made a time goal. I’d be happy to finish in 1:15 but I’m really shooting for 1:11.

I’m ecstatic to say I actually did more than meet my goals. I surpassed them.

I finished the run at right around 1:08. I can’t even believe it.

First 10K Results

I was really worried about this run too. First, the farthest distance I’ve ever hit before this was 5.3 miles so the fear of the unknown was heavy. Secondly, Andrew and the kids were supposed to be there with me. Andrew was even going to run it as well but things happen and poor Beanie was sick so Andrew made the selfless choice to sit the race out and stay home so I could have my turn. That all made me feel sad because he couldn’t run it and I was also sad to do it alone. The last thing that caused worry for me was that I did not sleep well last night. There were storms and the dog was a nervous wreck. The lack of sleep hit me hard in the morning.

When it was time to run, I started in the way back of the pack. In fact, I was the only one without a stroller – and I was actually behind them. I didn’t want to get caught up with a speedy person because it would make me feel like I need to be faster and I knew I just needed to keep my pace like I’ve been doing with my training. Slow to start, then gradual increase.

When the RunKeeper voice told me my first 5 minutes was an 11:40/mile pace, I knew I was doing good for me. But then, a few more minutes in, she spoke in my ear, “10:18 per mile.” Whoa, I thought. I better slow my tushie down. That is way too speedy for me. I’ll never make it. I still have about four miles to go.

During that time, my pace managed to take me past a few people but it didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t racing them. I was racing me. I never looked back and tried not to think about the distance between myself and the group ahead of me. I just did my thing and it felt so wonderful. The hills were tough and I needed a few short walk breaks but they didn’t keep me from making (and doing better than) my goal. Some Red Hot Chili Peppers helped bring me across the finish line. Rocking.

I’m so thankful to have all the support I do from Andrew. Not only did he really want me to run and give up his race for me, he kept refreshing RunKeeper from home so he could see when I finished almost as soon as I did. I love that, just as I am his biggest fan, he is mine. I suppose that’s how it should be. One of the questions he asked me was if it was as hard as I thought it was going to be. It wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done but  it ranks up there. I’m pretty sure my next big run – a 13.1 in November – will be much harder. I may have to take a look back at this 10K, just to remind myself I can do it.

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Matter Over Mind

9 Aug

That whole “I’m my own worst enemy” thing is such an a-hole. I find myself encountering it in my head before many of my runs.

You don’t have to run up “the hill” tonight. Just run to the bottom of it.

  • This is what my mind starts to tell myself at about 5 minutes into a run when I don’t feel like being out there. “Don’t run up the hill, just turn around and run the flatter parts again.” Although the thought sounds wonderful, I fight against it. I focus on the positive things – the longer blades of grass that often tickle my ankles as I run by them, the pretty sky I’m enjoying, my rockin’ tunes, my time for me. Before I notice it, I run the hill.

Maybe you aren’t a runner.

  • This is usually said to me after I talk about how I often whine about running. Some days, it is just so difficult to get out the door and start my run for whatever reason. I’m tired. Hungry. It’s raining hard. My leg hurts. I don’t want to run intervals. I try to talk myself out of it. I tell myself that I can just do it another day. I know I likely won’t want to do it then either though. When I finally get on my way, I think about the notion that maybe I am not a runner. It’s actually really motivating and helps keep me running.

Maybe you should try something else.

  • This is said to me after I vent about not losing any weight. They suggest that I need to do more than run four times a week. Maybe my body just isn’t responding to the running like it would something else. The funny thing  is though – I do actually enjoy my running. I do feel stronger and leaner. Something is working. I may need to add in a few old fashioned Phys. Ed. calisthenics to help build my core better but I don’t want to give up on running. (Even when I feel like I want to give up on running. It’s a twisted emotion.)

If you don’t feel like running, don’t run.

  • Said to me to ease my pout and support me in my anti-run feelings that intensify right before I’m about to head outside. The most recent one innocently came from Nia. She wasn’t trying to be unsupportive or discouraging, she was trying to help me feel better. It’s just, that is the time I need to be stronger than the temptation to not go. Andrew gets my evil eye as he tells me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. “Just go. You’ll be fine once you’re out there. It’s only x-amount of minutes. You got it.”

No matter what I’m feeling or hearing before my runs, he’s right. I am fine once I’m out there. In fact, I feel good. Not only because I ran and the sense of health and accomplishment, but also because I overcame my mind. Told it to shut it, I’m doing this. Matter over mind really makes me feel like I’ve defeated that enemy.

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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“I’m glad I don’t have a little brother.”

14 Jul

I never thought of myself as a “kid person.” I didn’t grow up dreaming of having babies and never really had plans about parenthood. I just existed. I wasn’t aware that at the time I was saying I wasn’t going to have kids yet (or soon), there was already a Bean on the way.

I guess then, I’m somewhat guilty for feeling the way Nia’s little friend did when she stayed with us. “I’m glad I don’t have a little brother,” she innocently said, not really understanding the hurt or feelings it cause. He had just been trying to hang out with them, which came across as pestering to them. Not being used to having a sibling around, that was understandably too much for the friend to handle.

I’m sure there are times when that thought may cross Nia’s mind too. What would life be like for her if she didn’t have Nate? I’ve even thought about it. What if we only had one? And, on the flip side, what if we had more children than Nia and Nate?

Here’s what I know:

  • I am so very thankful and complete to have both of our surprise blessings and adventure-makers in my life. Thinking of one without the other just doesn’t make sense and the thought only lasts for a second because it doesn’t matter. We have a big sister and a little brother and that’s all there is to it – and it’s pretty great.
  • Nia is glad to have a little brother – and he’s so lucky to have her. She just comforted him after he found out his cool red lace baseball cleats and special Dodgers t-ball shirt he forgot at summer camp are missing. When she saw his heartache, she sat next to him on the couch and rubbed his back as he softly cried. Later, as I was tucking her in, she said, “I feel really bad for Nate.”
  • Our little brother has informed he wants to be a big brother too. Asked as if we were not meeting production schedules or something, “When are you going to have another baby? I want a little brother.”

We told him that was very sweet of him but we have no plans to have another baby. Besides, we noted, the baby may be a little sister and who’s going to share a room with the baby?

“I will,” confirmed Nate. “If it’s a baby brother.”

I sure am glad we have our little brother.

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