A New Marriage

When I was pregnant with Collin, we had to take a Baptism II class.  Admittedly, Matt and I were kind of grumpy. WHY would we need to sit through ANOTHER Baptism class?! We already did it once and there isn't much to it! We trudged in and sat down. There was quite a large group of participants. Much larger than the class we took before we had Cooper. The leaders sat down and said, "this class is to help you prepare for how much your life is going to change when you add ANOTHER child to the mix". We had to talk to our spouses about how we were raised as children, how it was the same and how it was different.  We talked about what we wanted to pass on as parents and what we didn't. We were also challenged to evaluate how we already parented the children we have and what we may or may not do differently.

I think the BEST thing we walked away from was this was, "everything we do as a couple is a new marriage".  We had never thought of that before the class. Buying a new house...a new marriage.  Do we buy a car or do we NOT buy a car...a new marriage. Deciding on discipline techniques...a new marriage. Finances...a constant new marriage. Picking out furniture...a new marriage. Painting our home...a new marriage. Every decision people make as a couple becomes a new marriage.  We are constantly learning from each other.

What is our most recent marriage?  Cleaning out the extra room in our basement so that we do NOT have to rent a storage unit. We have been working on this DAILY after the children go to bed since last Sunday night. Our entire weekend will be committed to this. Matt and I usually work together pretty well, but this one is a doozy! We have different ways of completing this task playing out in our heads.  But alas, we will be just fine.  I think we have this whole marriage thing down.

I do have to say, I feel for hoarders. I am a thrower and the amount of "stuff" I have accumulated is ridiculous! I can see where they end up the way they do...

Like Mother, Like Son

 This is Me

This is Cooper

Cooper and I share more than physical similarities. He is my clone. Cooper often exclaims, "I am SO my mother's child!" and Matt is often seen shaking his head back and forth with that look of, "how can I deal with TWO of them?!".

We visited my Papa Joe a few weekends ago and Cooper saw the picture of me you see above and said, "That's me! WAIT, that can't be me!".  He nervously chuckled when I said it was me.  Then Collin came over and so we pointed to several pictures asking him, "who is that?". He answered them all correctly, "Uncle Jim!, Papa!, Chickie!" and then we pointed to the infamous picture of me and he said, "Pooper! hmmm, Pooper?". Case closed.

Having my own children has helped me learn about myself. What my temperament is, how I handle situations, what I think about and why. My children have especially helped me to ACCEPT and OWN who I am. This, I feel, has helped me relate better to not only my own children, but the children I see everyday, my family, and even my friends. 

I have mentioned before that I have always had obsessive compulsive tendencies. The most famous example was how I would draw 20 or more boats until they met my standards.  Then I would move on to houses, etc. Cooper has never shown much interest in drawing or art and even though my children can be  ANYTHING they want to be with my full support, it has secretly broken my heart. Drawing is all I ever knew. It was all I ever knew HOW to do. I didn't know how to play. Well, Cooper drew 15 turkeys last night and refused to stop until they were complete. It made me smile. What made me smile even more? Hearing Cooper PLAY. He was role-playing using his lego creations, using a story line and different voices.

I hope this means Cooper has learned that:

1. You always finish what you set out to do

2. To loosen up, have fun, and PLAY

I passed down #1 and Cooper is passing UP #2.

P.S. Cooper took his turkey drawing a step further than I used to. He thought of people he wants to mail them to. Watch your mailboxes..there are 10 lucky recipients!



A Day At Home

I am at home with Collin today. The dreaded call came in shortly after being at work this morning.  The worst phrase I could possibly hear is, "Collin threw up". Yep, that is the exact phrase I heard. When you get that phone call, your mind immediately goes in a million directions and you begin to weigh out whose day is more important. Mine or Matt's. Knowing Matt had a lengthy presentation in 15 minutes, he won. My patients were called, I packed my things and off I went to get the poor little guy.  I fear the words "throwing up". During the half marathon, another girl and I discussed how when we even so much as READ someone is throwing up, we panic. We are CONVINCED we will get sick, simply by reading it. Even IF the person is in another country. Fortunately, Collin has not thrown up while in my care and is sound asleep as I type...

Being at home is hard for me. I have a difficult time organizing myself. I have a basement full of laundry, a 6th birthday party to plan, and of course, my work from work.  Where does a person start? I have managed to dabble in everything that needs to be done. Soon it will be time to make dinner so that when Matt and Cooper get home we can eat at a decent time. I suppose it is a day for me to tie up some loose ends...a phrase that makes me chuckle. There are a lot of phrases and words that puzzle me, annoy me, and embarrass me. Matt suggested I write a blog about those phrases/words, but haven't found the time...until now. Since I am tying up loose ends and all.

Here are a few:
loose meat sandwiches, go have a bite to eat, panties, everyone and their dog, moist, damp, they are an item, sweating bullets, blouse, slacks, sweating like a pig, pulled pork sandwiches...

Because my mind often goes in a million directions when I am unable to get organized, I am reminded even more today on how disappointed I am with the rut I am in as far as running is concerned. Someone worded it perfectly to me when I questioned WHY I feel SO unmotivated! She said, "you met your goal so now what". So now what....that is the million dollar question. I miss running. I NEED running. My body needs running. My mind needs running. My most recent running shirt purchase says on the back:

Take some lessons from the roads you've traveled in life and sport...Those miles are the best terrain for self examination.

That being said, it is time to buck up, get to work, and hope Collin wakes up feeling better and refreshed. I want to see his cute smile again!

Drive-Thru Trauma

It all started last evening as I gave Matt "a look" when he took out the gallon of milk that was almost gone to pour himself a glass.  He immediately noticed "the look" and inquired. I shared that I had to be in Coggon for my first session in the morning and I HAD to be able to make myself a chai tea latte for the road.  He nicely put the milk back into the fridge.

This morning when I asked Cooper what he wanted for breakfast, he quickly responded, "let's go with cereal today. I haven't had that in awhile!". I relunctantly took out the almost empty gallon of milk and poured every last drop into his bowl.  He ate ALL of the cereal, but left behind a significant amount of milk...enough for me to make that chai tea latte. He even has one of those fancy bowls with the straw attached so he can consume the sugary substance! I sadly poured the unwanted milk down the drain and decided that I would brave Starbucks.  Starbucks DRIVE THRU.

Cooper didn't stop talking the entire drive there.  Cooper rarely stops talking. His mind is a tornado of information and questions. We approached the really long line of cars and immediately I started to become stressed.  Cooper started talking about how he wished it was summer because then we could have a picnic. "When CAN we have a picnic?" "What will we HAVE at the picnic?" "Where will we have the picnic?" and so on and so forth. I then looked into my rearview mirror and thought to myself, "that's weird, the lady behind me seems to be talking into the box. Wait that doesn't make sense. Must be the person in front of me. Wait, that doesn't make sense, I shouldn't be seeing people in FRONT of me in the REARVIEW MIRROR" and wham, it made sense. I had COMPLETELY missed THE BOX! Now I am amidst a long line of cars with nowhere to go and NOTHING ORDERED! I was instantly sweaty and turned off all vents in the car. As if turning them off wasn't enough, I had to quickly rotate them all away from me. Then I had to decide whether I wanted to just cruise through and pass the nice girl at the window, or simply tell her my situation. I wanted to cruise through but then worried they would think I was a thief...even though I hadn't ordered anything. SO, I stopped and told her what had happened and she very nicely said that it wasn't a big deal that I could order there.

I enjoyed every last drop of that chai tea latte.



Strategic Planning

I spend an incredible amount of time each day trying to avoid situations that make me feel uncomfortable. Maybe a better way of stating that is to say, I spend an incredible amount of time each day trying to find better options to situations so I feel LESS uncomfortable.

I have NEVER tried the drive-up option at a bank.  I was a passenger once and it stressed me out.  There is this tube and you have to wait for it to arrive and then put the items you want inside. Then you have to  return it properly and push a button so it sucks back into its machine to reach the bank teller. Then you can never SEE the bank teller, only hear them. This is something that challenges me, which is why I rarely go through drive-thru.

This is all very simple. I just go inside of the bank when I need something and that is that. Not in my world.  I am CONVINCED every teller in every Veridian Credit Union thinks I am strange because I come in for the littlest things. To cash ONE check, or to deposit ONE item, when clearly I could just drive up and try the tube deal. This is where the strategic planning comes into play. I don't always go to the same Veridian. I make sure I spread my visits evenly throughout the various sites so the tellers don't feel the need to say, "I don't know why she doesn't just drive up and do that". I also try to find a reason, other than to cash or deposit a check, to make my visit more reasonable. Pretty certain my children have the best investments and savings accounts ever...

I know this is all very ridiculous and quite frankly there is NO reason why ANY teller would remember me, no matter how much  I come inside.  Now Hallmark, on the other hand, they DO know me by my first name, they know the names of my children, ages of my children, their birthdates, and that my husband has not been in for awhile...THAT is something I should be embarrassed about.



The Bucket List

I think we all have some sort of a bucket list...a list of things we would like to accomplish before we "kick the bucket".  One of the things on my list is to run a half marathon. When I started to run, or walk/jog rather, it was in 2006.  I had gained 50 some pounds while pregnant with Cooper and figured I better make a plan to get back into shape after he was born. Being able to make it to the end of the block was a struggle....now I am in the final stages of preparing for my very first half marathon, which will be next Sunday. I never thought that running could not only be enjoyable, but such an important thing to do in my life.  Running means something different to everyone...some loathe it (I used to be that person), some run to make sure they can eat and maintain a healthy weight, and some run as a stress reliever. There are many more reasons I am certain.

I run so I can be healthy, mentally and emotionally centered, and a good communicator with Matt. It wasn't always this way. I used to dread every step I took, it made me mentally and emotionally un-centered, and I would, quite frankly, be a grump at Matt when he would try to "coach" me. Then there was something humbling about participating in a 5K and having my 78 year old grandfather cheer me through the finish line...after he finished his OWN 5K 10 minutes before me. It used to take me AGES to finish a 5K, never really running/jogging the whole thing, and my forehead was always full of frown lines.

Something happened, at some point, where I stopped focusing on the difficulty of the run, and started to focus on the happiness it brings my grandfather when Matt and I run a race with him and the excitement Matt has for me when I finish.  To run a 7 mile race step for step with my grandfather and cross that finish line TOGETHER is something I will never forget. It doesn't matter how quickly you run, it is the feeling of the finish that matters. 

I have started to focus on the support of Matt.  How when I have a bad day and he says, "go for a run and have some time for yourself. You will feel SO much better when you are done" and then when I come home and he says, "you did awesome!"...whether I really did or not. Matt has spent a lot of this year running by my side in races.  Although his pace pushes me to the point of saying "I don't think I can do this!!!" there is something about him supporting me and offering that thumbs up every so often and reminding me, "you've got this". Most people know I am not a hugger.  I stiffen up almost immediately when people lean in for a hug...but when I finish a race, hugs for Matt!  The adrenaline helps me, "take it down a notch", and be ready to just TALK and COMMUNICATE.  I feel refreshed and ready to give my full attention to Cooper and Collin and make better decisions for the week.

I have really become aware of the levels of support out there.  Some people just plain don't care and that is OK. Some people act like they don't care, but secretly they do.  Then there is the group of people who come out of the woodwork with such support and encouragement that it is overwhelming...in a good way of course.  Trail people are nice...everyone on that trail will smile and wave...we have a commonality...we are trying to be healthy. We are not competing. I have friends who check in often and who offer words of encouragement and those who run along side of me.  Friends who say, "you can do this!" and humor me by answering questions while we run such as, "what is easier, this or childbirth?!".  We both agreed childbirth today by the way.  My dear running pal Falon ran her first marathon today and I couldn't wait to get the texts that kept me updated on her run. It is never about competing against each other, but rather supporting each other and doing better for OURSELVES.  We check in to make sure a blister is healing OK and how a recent run went.

I run to see the smile on my grandfather's face (whom is 80 and still going strong each race)...I run because it makes Matt and I have a better marriage...I run to meet new amazing people....I run to learn that people who have always been in my life at some point or another share a common interest...I run to encourage others...and most importantly I run because it makes ME happy, focused, and centered. It has taken me since 2006 to realize this and completing a half marathon was the furthest thing from my mind.  Here is to the final week of training and a "check" off of my bucket list...

By the way, I couldn't handle the GIANT bowl of candy on the breakfast bar anymore so I put it all into a plastic cauldron and put some pears in the bowl instead....

 

If you run or jog why?

 What is on YOUR bucket list?

Am I Being Punk'd?

It was SUCH a beautiful day today! Started it off at approximately 7:30 a.m. with a 9 mile run with my good friend Jess. This is the first time we have ever ran AND talked...it was really nice to catch up!  Anyway, after I got home, stretched, showered and shoved a few cookies into my system we headed to Anamosa for their pumpkin fest...is it pumpkin fest OR pumpkinfest?  Either way we saw some massive pumpkins! I guess that is the point of a fest filled with pumpkins...

After watching Cooper in the big wheels race we went to grab something to eat.  I couldn't wait to crack open my diet coke...

I opened it and took that first drink I had been waiting so long for and I KNEW IT, I completely KNEW IT! It tasted EXPIRED! Not caring who was watching I looked under the can and sure enough...it had expired August 22, 2011!

Then we went to a PARADE...we had JUST started to see a dent in that infamous neverending candy bowl at our house...St. Patrick's Day parade, 2 4th of July parades, Firetruck parade, and now the pumpkin parade...

And then we got MORE. Halloween is only 30 days away! This bowl will never be conquered. Ashton, where are you? Was I being punk'd today?! Are you getting a divorce or NOT?! This media frenzy has me obsessed...

 

The Water Snob

I am a glorified water snob. I often say, "this water tastes tainted" and am known to bring several large water bottles filled with the water from our house to other places.  Sometimes water tastes brown to me, even though it is clear. Yes, sometimes I taste in color.  I also have a pain that sometimes happens in my neck that feels brown. Some vegetables taste extra green. 

Sometimes I swear I can taste every mineral in a glass of water and proceed to feel each mineral scratching my throat as they enter my esophagus. Water can taste rusty, therefore it tastes a little bit red, and can leave a gritty feeling on my tongue.

At my parent's house I describe their water as tasting warm and thick. They have gotten to the point where they buy distilled water and separate ice cubes for me so they don't have to hear me complain.  Mom often says, "what have we DONE to you?!"  Unfortunately the distilled water tastes minty to me. She is just finding this out right now while she reads my blog...I love you mom!

I do like lemon in my water.  Last night while out for dinner with my friend Heather, they served the water with a cucumber in it.  We discussed how we REALLY try to like cucumbers but we just can't seem to acquire a positive taste.  Needless to say, the water was not easy for me to drink.  It is amazing how something that looks so tasteless has such a powerful flavor. By the way, the cucumber made the water taste green...a light green.

So, I shall sign off and go drink a glass of water from our tap. It tastes perfect to me...perfectly tasteless.  And always remember, everything always tastes better in a wine or champagne glass...

"Is this old?"

I incessantly check the expiration dates of everything that I  consume. It is not uncommon for me to ask, "is this old?" or "is this expired?". I get the most *sighs* out of Matt and my mother. Even if they say it is fine, I do not really believe them. I have a 24 hour rule on most items. My dad likes to say things like, "that has been there for DAYS!", which is typically followed by my mom saying firmly, "JOHN! Why would you say that? You KNOW how your daughter is! Now she won't eat it!". Even if I AM brave enough to consume the product I will ask a minimum of 3 times, "are you sure this isn't old?". This is followed by rolling eyes and exhausted looks on people's faces as they ONCE AGAIN say, "it is FINE!".

There is a reason behind this madness.  A reason that adds to my obsessive compulsive tendencies. I can't remember how old I was, but I know it was Thanksgiving.  It is not uncommon for me to feel "starved" after a day of holiday food because there is SO much grazing going on! I never feel completely full! Anyway, my dad is the same way.  We got home and both complained of feeling hungry and immediately went to the refrigerator to take a peek.  Apparently we both thought it would be an EXCELLENT idea to choose the CAN of swanson chicken broth shoved WAY back in the fridge covered with a small piece of tin foil.  What a great idea to boil some pasta in that and have some soup before bed! Me being a child, I only wanted the noodles.  Dad being the dad, gladly took MY broth and slurped it down.  A few hours later I awoke sweating SO badly and MAN did my stomach hurt! I trudged over to mom and dad's room and poked at mom. She woke up and asked what was wrong and I mumbled, "I don't feel very good" and BLAH...no need for details.  Dad then sits up and says, "I don't feel good either" and off he ran downstairs.  I am pretty certain the house was shaking from his violent sickness. My body had mended within 12 hours. Dad's did not. I am not sure if he EVER left that bathroom during the next 24 hours. He REALLY should not have slurped down so much broth!  To this day, both of us cringe and gag a little bit when we see this label:

As a matter of fact whenever I eat any sort of chicken broth I envision the following:

And question, "is this old?"

Btw, you CAN tell when pop is expired. I have had other witnesses...you know who you are.

It is JUST a sock!

My grandmother June was a very lovely woman. She was free-spirited, trendy, and relaxed.  She always had the most up-to-date hairstyle, colored her hair often for fun, and seemed to always be ahead of the time when it came to fashion. There was always a yoga pose, herbal tea, or reflexology technique to cure whatever was ailing a person at the time. She is who watched me while my parents went to work.  We walked a lot, went out to eat, sang and played the piano, had fashion shows, and painted pictures of scenery.  She would also take me along to Dubuque to visit her sister and go shopping. This is when I would see another side of the lady whom I referred to as, Nanny. I remember dreading the shoppping trip because the amount of stores we would visit and the amount of SOCKS that were tried on made me crazy! There was always something that didn't feel right.  The heel was too bunchy, the seam across the toe was scratchy, they were too tight on the ankle, you name it.  Her sister was the same way, which would just fuel the sock journey.  I used to think in my head, "it is JUST a sock!".  After Nanny passed away and we were able to go through some of her things, we realized that it wasn't just socks. Waistbands would be cut and collars would be hacked off of her clothes. 

My dad never had any problems with feeling "out of sorts" when it came to how his clothing fit.  As a matter of fact, when he worked at the Lock and Dam one Winter, he would come home, take off his boots and there would be his socks OVER his heel bunched up in the arch of his foot and frozen.  He would work 12 hours that way and not be bothered. I, on the other hand, seemed to have inherited the sensory issues my grandmother had. I have been known to cut the cuffs of my shirts because they are too tight or become easily distracted when a piece of clothing "doesn't feel right".

Then comes Collin.  Oh, my sweet, sweet, Collin.  Collin always seemed to be laid back and not phased by very much.  Matt was happy because he felt the house was now equally divided.  Recently this has all changed. BOY, has it changed.  It started with the tags in his shirts. They were, according to Collin, "scratchy!" and would often cry, "it hurts!!!". He now insists on picking out his own clothes. He checks for the tags and when he finds a tagless shirt he exclaims, "no tags!" and puts it on. Then one day I put on a 3/4 length shirt on him and he literally fell apart. He pointed to the inside of his elbow and screamed, "owie owie owie!". This resulted in, once again, allowing him to pick out his own shirt. Then it was time to put on a long sleeved shirt AND pants because it was cold. As you can imagine, it did NOT go over well. This is one of those times when what I do for a living gets thrown out of the window and I become a PARENT who is at a loss.  Through many sensory integration techniques and discussions with Collin, we have progressed to him tolerating either pants OR a long sleeved shirt.  Don't get me started on what happens when the coat is introduced or when his SOCKS bother him. Instead of thinking in my head, "it is JUST a sock!" I can now actually say it.

I guess the point is, it is always good to understand who you are as a person, how you became the person you are, and how you deal with the children you make. Genetics intrigue me.  My grandmother and Collin are so similar, yet my father has escaped the sensory drama almost completely. I have a few things here and there, but nothing that warrants spending an entire day looking for the perfect pair of socks.

Nanny, you had your quirks, but we miss you dearly and hope you are wearing the PERFECT pair of socks.



1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

I am known to engage in obsessive compulsive behavior.  Looking back, I remember always being this way. I remember drawing a boat, which turned into 25 boats in a few hours. Once that was perfected I moved on to houses. I am sure it was hard for family members to say something positive after boat #3.  Today I often question when my mom brings up such stories, "how did you NOT see there was something odd about me?!". She usually just laughs and says, "it was just who you were!". Another memorable story was when I decided one evening that I was going to tie my shoes.  It happened...at approximately 3 AM after many tears and frustration shared not only by me, but my parents as well. Call me stubborn and obsessive compulsive, but I prefer driven.  At least that is my positive twist on it.

Everything I do is to the "nth degree". Sometimes this is positive and other times it is not. It depends on the situation and whether I am moving forward alone or dragging someone along with me.  Matt is very patient with me...well most of the time. He has learned to reassure me FIVE times before what he is saying will actually sink in when I am worried.  It is strange it takes 5 times, when I subconsciously count to SIX repeatedly throughout the day.

This behavior or temperament, or whatever you want to call it has been around for generations and is seen throughout both sides of my family.  As a matter of fact, my cousin Jessica and I went out for dinner one night. We were sharing with each other how our anxiousness seems to worsen as we get older.  I then told her how I panicked the other day because some of the calk was peeling away from where the shower and the shower walls attach.  I yelled for Matt in a panicked voice, "Matt! You have to come see this!!". He ran in, probably thinking one of the kids had gotten hurt or perhaps an earwig had invaded the room. I said anxiously, "you have to fix this!". He didn't seem as alarmed as me so I carried the worry of the situation around for DAYS. I then told her that what went through my head in SECONDS after seeing the peeled calk was that, water was now seeping inside of the shower, which was now in the walls, therefore creating moisture and black mold, which would mean COMPLETELY gutting the bathroom and possibly being dead by morning because of mold infestation.  She started to laugh and said, "that SAME thing happened the other day at our house and I thought the SAME thing!". We then both laughed SO hard we were almost crying and then felt relieved we weren't alone.  It is nice to know you are not alone in your thought process, but because it is inherited I also feel badly.  Cooper is a mini-me. As a matter of fact he often says, "I am SO my mother's child"...

Collin also has exhibited some new quirky tendencies in recent weeks. My poor, poor husband...

9/11

I lived in a place called Watervliet, NY from January 2001-August 2001. I was a music therapy intern at a place called Capital District Beginnings in Troy, NY.  Watervliet  was off of a traffic circle which  was also the link to Schenectady and Albany.  I visited New York City a few times.  It was a nice train ride there.  When people came to visit me, I always tried to make sure we could go to the city.  When Matt came out to essentially move me back home after my internship was completed, I decided to surprise him with a trip to the city for his birthday.  We took the train ride on August 11, 2001 and made sure to meet up with my good friend Emily who lived in the city and worked near the twin towers.  We strolled over to the twin towers and Matt asked Emily, "wasn't there a bomb scare here a few years ago?".  Me being completely clueless when it comes to history of any kind, just continued to soak in the city itself. I had always imagined myself living in New York City. 

Exacly one month later the phone rang through the wonderful tri-plex Matt and I moved into. I was broke from living in NY on only a $300 a month stipend and Matt still had another year of college at Wartburg. I nudged at Matt to answer the phone and shortly after saying "hello" I heard him yell down to me, "TURN ON THE TV!" in a panicked voice. I turned on the television and just like that the second tower collapsed. I stared. I stopped breathing. I was speechless. Then it hit me...Emily worked across the street and had mentioned she went to the towers to workout and for other reasons daily. Matt then handed me the phone.  It was Mitch who had called.  He asked me, "doesn't Emily work there?!" I just said, "Mitch I have to go...I have to call her and see if she is ok".  The cell phone lines were so backed up nobody could get through to anybody.  I just paced that entire day with the sickest feeling in my stomach.  Eventually I was able to connect with her.  She was OK. It was a relief.

This is one of those situations where so many of us can describe in great detail what we were doing when the news broke.  Such a tragedy that will never be forgotten. 

You know, I said parades are funny and I still think that in many aspects. But the parade yesterday was a perfect tribute to all of the firefighters who played such an important role on 9/11.

Parades Are Funny

The boys and I watched a firetruck parade this evening in Monticello. Yes, a parade with nothing but firetrucks. It was actually kind of interesting with the many different towns involved and being able to see one of the first firetrucks ever used. My favorite was the one pulled by horses.  We even saw my cousin Austin driving a truck from Guttenberg. I am typically mortified when people shout at other people to get their attention, but something came over me tonight as I yelled, "AUSTIN!" and then waved like a crazy person.  He heard his name, slowed down, and gave a nice shout out to Cooper and Collin. It is unclear if I will ever be brave enough to do that again.

At any rate, parades are kind of funny to me.  People really take them seriously! They save spots hours in advance and are secretly worried someone might take their claimed spots.  I have been there and done that.  The parade entries prepare for their debut and flash their best smiles and maybe even secretly practice their parade wave. I mean, why don't people just line up every night and watch the traffic pass? It is kind of the same idea.  Except for the CANDY.  Maybe parades are an excuse to throw small, enticing objects at small children without it being a problem? Do parades exist because of the candy or for people to "parade" themselves through town?

I was IN a parade once when I was little.  I remember always looking at the people in the parades with such admiration, as if they were celebrities.  I watched other children ride by on their fancy bicycles, sit in the passenger seat of a really nice car WITHOUT A CAR SEAT OR SEATBELT, and have that special spot in a firetruck as they threw candy and imagined how much fun it would be.  I shared this with my mom and so it was planned that in the 4th of July parade I would sit in the FRONT SEAT of the ambulance with my Uncle Jim and throw candy. I was so excited! But once I was seated in the ambulance and that door shut, I sort of panicked. How would I know how MUCH candy to throw? How would I know how hard to throw it? How often do I throw the candy? And then the realization hit that I would not be able to SEE the parade and get my OWN candy if I was IN the parade. I felt sick and maybe wanted to cry. But I remained quiet and suffered in silence. In the end it was fun and a great experience, but one I never took part in again. 

I always try my best to FULLY enjoy everything that I do. To not let my "quirks" take over. They took over tonight. Every piece of candy thrown at my children made me think of the HUGE bowl of candy we still have from the 4TH OF JULY!!.

Now THIS is what we have!

So now I am thinking how HALLOWEEN is around the corner! This bowl will NEVER be empty! Speaking of Halloween...it is time to start perfecting the costumes.



"You should write a blog about your quirks"....

As I dressed in my best ninja gear to run a 5K at midnight last Friday, I was, as usual, a stressball.  Not about the race of course. I had to find my way to my friend Falon's house, which should not be a big deal since I had been reviewing my mapquest directions all night. Not only did I have to find her house, but then I had to decide whether I wait in the car pretending I had important calls to make when I arrived or simply walk up to the door.  The problem with walking up to the door was that a couple of things could happen. I could ring the doorbell, but what if it doesn't work.  It is almost always instinct to try pushing the doorbell again followed by pressing your ear up to the house to see if you can hear it. Then I have to stand there looking awkward. I could then knock on the door, but with what kind of force? I mean, she may be standing RIGHT there.

As I snap out of my typical daze of "what-ifs" I gather up my items and get into my car.  The drive was fine. I turned down Falon's street and dropped the speed of the car to a slow creep. Being I am barely 5'2" with a torso only 12 inches in length, I truly look like an old granny when I drive. Now I am driving 3 miles per hour, arms wrapped around the steering wheel, entire body hunched forward, eyes in a squinting fashion as I try my best to read the house numbers. I am CONVINCED every person in every house is watching me and laughing so now I am even MORE stressed. I don't want to PASS Falon's house because she may be watching and SHE might laugh...and just like that a light flashes on and I see her house number...as I drive by. After I took a deep breath and maneuvered a quick turnaround in a neighbor's driveway I am there.

Now I am back to the original situation I was stressed about.  Do I wait in my car or simply walk up to the door? I opt for walking up to the door.  I walked up the driveway and was startled by a small metal cat on her step. I am not gonna lie, it was kind of creepy! Anyway, I can't even remember if I rang the doorbell or knocked on the door at this point, but soon Falon and I were on our way to the race.

We talked about sore knees and how we are going to stay awake as we wait for the race.  I start to feel anxious (shocking) about where we are going to park and if I am "hitting people" as I drive. I admit I can only park left to Falon and then spew out, "um, I have a lot of quirks and am constantly a stressball!".  Falon chuckles and very calmly says, "you should write a blog about your quirks".

So here I am.

By the way, parking worked out great. I took a left, and a left, and was able to take another left, but decided to try parking right. I did it, not well, but I did it.  We ran 3.1 miles in the dark on a trail joined by our other running buddy Lisa. It was a muggy 90 degrees but so much fun! Next year full glow wear followed by hashbrowns.