Listen, Boys

It has lovingly brought to my attention that I have been negative about myself and maybe that is true. I haven’t posted anything funny in a while and I have had some “wins” here and there so maybe I should bring you all in on those as well…


I had an awesome workout on the track yesterday morning. This week is race week so the plan called for 6 x 200’s. They were supposed to be at 39.2.

 

1. 37.1
2. 38
3. 38
4. 38
5. 37
6. 36

 

Finally, a workout faster than it is supposed to be and I felt great. 29 degrees out with a very mild wind on the track. It actually didn’t feel that bad. Yesterday I thought my face was going to freeze off running 2 miles down the road. It was cold!!!

 

Another win, I have let go of my goal of beating 23 minutes in my next run. I’m ok with that. Getting sick set me back and my priorities are in order at home and with work. Training turned into working out to be healthy, not necessarily fast. I’ve gotten news that the course is hilly, which wants to send a little bit of fear down my spine, but I’m not going there. Dale is running this one and I am going to use this as a time to celebrate the blessing of running with my husband. Something that brought us together. He is much faster than me (2 time 400 state champ – just stroking the ego a bit) and always will be, but him offering to run WITH me this race makes me very excited. So, my new goal is to enjoy this race and try my hardest not to take it out on him when I’m feeling like crap and questioning why the hell I’m doing it.

Let's just get real... I'm PMSing like a motha and I'm not interested in being all positive and up on things.  My day started off fine with a little lifting weights in the basement without seeing a moving spider.  Win!  It was fine until the oldest one asked why daddy keeps making him wear the youngest one's shirt.  I say, I don't know and I don't know how it keeps getting in your drawer.  Then I tell him he can go pick out another one but not to make a big deal about it.  Good, great, life is grand and I'm tolerating PMS ok this morning.  THEN, he comes back in the living room in a Chief's jersey that he got out of the laundry (off his floor) that his brother wore 2 days ago.  Plus he had on camo pants, so he's looking like he just stepped out of White Trashville.  I swear I saw a rat tail on his shoulder. 

I am trying to be patient and help him out, but every shirt I pick out is wrong.  "It's too long.  "It will go down to here (right passed his boy parts) and I don't like it going down to here."  In the whiniest voice you have ever heard.  He is 6!!!!  I give up, say get a shirt, I have crap to do and the whole world came crumbling down.  Over a freakin shirt.  I go about my normal business a little louder and forceful than normal hoping like crazy he will get his crap together before I really lose my shit.  I go to start my car and soon I hear the screaming following me.  He is outside at the car in 30 degree weather without a shirt on demanding that I get him a shirt picked out.  It's a good thing we don't live in a busy neighborhood is all I have to say. We really can't get anymore White Trashville than a good ol' screaming fight with a shirtless boy outside in the driveway fresh out to start the morning. 

His much calmer parent took over and tried his hand at getting the boy a non-penis covering shirt even over his demands that he wanted his mommy to do it.  I think he ended up with a shirt on.  Who knows.  Wonder how Jackie, or whatever the hell her name is will like his puffy eyes this morning when he gets to school. 

Usually when this thick of drama is going on the other two stay out of harms way and keep their mouths shut, but this morning the other two decided to pick up where big brother left off.  They started fighting over the car seats and who was sitting where.  So, two out of three of them hysterically crying this morning over stupid crap while baby brother got his way and me throwing gravel with the tires as I left the driveway (more White Trashville).  I'm thankful Weston was in more than just a diaper when I carried him out on my hip.  Not bad, right?!

Boys, here is a lesson for you, you have 2.5ish weeks where you can pretty much do anything and mom isn't going to lose her shit.  She will be fairly patient, fairly kind, and give lots of praise and kisses and hugs, she will also play cops with you more often, playfully hiding and shooting you with fake bullets from across the room.  But, those other 1.5ish weeks, watch the hell out!  It might be good for you to start tracking when those weeks are in your favor if you want to live to see your teens!!!  Screaming like a girl and sobbing over what freaking shirt you want to wear or that you want to sit in the baby seat but your baby brother won't let you probably aren't good things to bring up on the 1.5ish side of things.  It's simple woman math!

AND L.I.K.E spells like, like, like, like, like, like.  "L" - this is a FREAKING "L".  T.H.E spells the.  the, the, the, the, the.  Not fffff, not you, not was. IT'S "THE"!!!!   Waylon, wipe your own ass, and Weston, stop shitting more than once a freaking day, stop scooting the chair to the bar stools to climb, stop jumping from the coffee table to the couch, shut the fridge and get out of the DAMN PANTRYYYYYY!!!

 

Freakin monsters!

Hating This Up and Down Nonsense

As I’ve posted a couple of times I have been a wrecking ball of emotions. It continues.

Friday = Good
Saturday = Great
Sunday = FAIL
Monday = Totally don't want to be talking

The house is a mess. Things are out of place and out of sorts, which is completely representative of how I am feeling. When things are picked up they are still out of place and it drives me insane. I wouldn’t consider myself a clean freak, but things have their place and when things aren’t in their place my whole world feels off.

I’m not sure I can blame this whole thing on the cleanse I’m doing, but I’m about to.

Saturday mornings have become one of my favorite times. It is time I get to work on myself from running, to being a mom, to a Christian, and to a wife. It is the time I get to push myself to limits I didn’t think I could go. Accomplish things I didn’t think I could. It is a time for me to overcome my negative mind and show myself that my heart beats louder. Each Saturday grows increasingly better. The more I push through the better I feel.

 

This Saturday was no exception. I told a friend of mine earlier in the week that I knew I could get my mile pace down because I knew I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough based on how much I usually have left at the end. This Saturday I proved it. I set a goal for my pace and then I did it, even surprising myself with the 1st mile. It still felt like crap, but I talked myself through it the whole way. The end of the 2nd mile felt even worse, but still close to the pace I was shooting for. The 3rd mile I wanted to give up and walk. I just kept telling myself that I would regret it later. Then dug a little deeper and really assessed how I was feeling. I was tired, but dying? Hardly. I kept going. My pace was off in the beginning but as I ran that lake dam, the longest most boring stretch out in the open and so close to the finish line, I just picked my knees up, prayed, and envisioned what it used to be like heading to the finish line of any race.

For a while now I have wanted a running partner. Dale isn’t an option right now as he is recovering his foot and we can’t leave the kids in the house by themselves. Plus, he blows me away. I’ve wanted someone local who cared and to run with and talk to about all this crap. I was getting frustrated that I just couldn’t find that connection. Yes, I have my girls here and there that will compete with me, but the regular every day training is on my own. Some days I like it like that, some days I don’t.

As I was running I passed a lady riding a bike, tall, slender, short grey hair, and as athletic as she could look. We exchanged nods as both of us where tired. When I was finished with my run I jogged for a cool down on the same path. Right before I decided to turn around I walked a bit. Before I knew it she was passing me only running this time. She got a couple paces in front of me and stopped. She turned around and let me know she was waiting for me. She went on to say how riding the bike then transitioning to running was hard on her. I asked her if she was training for a tri. She surprisingly responded with no and that she was doing something stupid… training for an ironman. Hardly stupid if you ask me. We ran and jogged together exchanging tidbits of our lives. Me, running in college, stopping to have babies, then getting back into it to find more in life. Her, signing up to compete at the last minute because she has a sick husband, 5 kids and is 50 years old. With each new exchange of life she blew me away. She told me she knew I was a college runner by my bounce. That has stuck with me. Meeting a little angel runner/athlete along the way gave me such a refreshing feeling.

During my run I was of course analyzing my life as a mom and a wife. I’m hardly in the place I want to be there. I love it more than anything else. I would never give it up, wouldn’t even consider it. I enjoy it and nothing fills my heart more, but I’m still not where I want to be. I am pouring myself into so many different cups and I’m realizing that lately I haven’t been the best at making sure everyone has the same amount. You parents out there with multiple kids know just how important that detail is.  With school starting and new routines I know it is going to be hard to find our groove again. It is certainly going to be an adjustment.

The yelling and grumpy moods for seemingly no reason are becoming too frequent and it’s time I find a way to readjust. When I am at the verge of a melt down and I can't even tell anyone why, there has got to be a problem.  I am so sick of being so up and down. I know I need to give myself a break, but I’m not happy with where I am and I don’t understand why I can get out there on a trail and push harder than anything to overcome, but you put me in front of my husband and kids and I can’t push through the desire to want to yell, demand, and scream to get things in order and people doing what I want them to be doing. No, that is unacceptable. I should be able to push past the “easy” route for me and push for patience and better ways to get responses.

Last night after watching the interview with the gold medalist swimmer who is entering her senior year in high school (freaking amazing) I just wanted to run to my room and cry. For no other reason than to have a good cry to release every up and down stupid emotion I was feeling, but I was too exhausted to cry and fell asleep before one single tear hit my cheek.

I don’t want to paint the picture to anyone that I am taking on the world and kicking its ass and that I’m better than any of you for it. I am living life the best way I know how with failures and setbacks here and there to help me get to the next level. I’m doing my best to live this life the way in which I won’t regret. I want to push, know my limits, and push farther than I think I can with all of my family and friends with me. I don’t want to be on the sidelines of my own life movie watching it go by and wishing I would have jumped on the train. So, I’m going to push to be the mom, the wife, the Christian, the friend, the daughter, and the sister…. The me I WANT TO BE.

So, anyway that’s where I’m at. Ah, the ebbs and flows of life. I know they exist and I know we will survive. I will survive, but this is what I have to process through right now to get better and stronger. I want people to know all of me by my bounce. I want them to know that I’m raising 3 kids, taking care of myself, keeping things together, working through the crap parts of life and getting stronger, being the best Christian I know how to be, and constantly doing my part to keep a healthy marriage by my bounce.