Lessons I hope I've given (so far)

With so much tragedy in the world, sometimes I can't help but think about what would happen to my girls if I were taken from them today.  Obviously, they have a father and a family that love them to pieces.  So, I don't worry about them as far as the day-to-day life.  Although, I'm pretty sure no one would braid Maya's hair to her exact specifications, or patiently wait for Eva's peace to return, or know exactly which friends Sofia holds the most dear.  I mostly worry if they would remember anything about what I'm trying to teach them.  As their mother, I try to slip in life lessons wherever I can.  Sometimes they are overt, "Brushing your teeth will make people want to stand closer to you when you speak to them."  And, sometimes they are snuck in when they aren't looking, "Wow, you seem to have really pulled yourself together after taking some deep breaths!  What a great idea!"  Here are a few of the other things I hope they were paying attention to:

Do not mumble.  If you can't say it to their face, don't mumble it behind their back.

A walk in the warm sunshine can cure anything.

The right shoes, the more sparkly the better, can turn any day from boring to fabulous.

Look people in the eye when you're talking to them so they know you're telling the truth.

And, look them in the eye when they are speaking so you can see the truth in their words.

Lying makes everything worse.

Two things you will never really get back once they're gone:  trust and respect.  Even after forgiveness, the sting of betrayal always lingers.

You can forgive someone a million times; but if they keep doing the same thing a million times over, they're probably not worth your forgiveness.

No one will ever love you more than your mama.  Yes, you will have plenty of people in love with you; but none of them agreed to have you grow inside them, deform their body, have you ripped from their belly, and then let you run free through the world finding your own separate happiness.

Be yourself.  Anyone who tries to change you is blind to your perfection.  And, who wants to be someone's guide dog for the rest of their lives?!

Comb ALL of your hair, not just the part you can see from the front.  And, brush all of your teeth, not just the ones you can see from the front.  Finally, don't ever let anyone take a photo of you from behind, only what you can see from the front.

Eating healthy will not kill you, but it also won't make you a ton of friends when it's your turn to bring snacks.

When you're a mother, a hundred years from now... unless you take my advice and join a convent, you will gladly lay down your life for your children. 

Don't ever give up.  Trying and failing beats quitting every single time.

Take responsibility.  You can't blame everything that goes wrong on someone else.  Your mistakes are yours, own them.

Do I have more to teach them?  Probably, but only after I learn the lessons first.  Will they remember any of it, hopefully.  If I get taken from them tomorrow, I can only cross my fingers that they'll do more than worry who's going to make the pancakes.

Anatomy of my 9.1 mile run

P.S.  I was going to call this "Anatomy of a 9.1 mile run", but I figured others probably do it a lot better than me.

As a quick recap...
When I started running (exactly 14 runs ago), I barely made it to the end of my street before I had to walk a while.  And, the first run ended with the giant distance of 3.63 miles.  This morning, almost one and a half months later, I finished 9.1 miles.

And it went a little something like this:
When I got home from taking the girls to school, I put on two shirts and a jacket.  Because, lest we forget, I am not doing this for the "fun", it's to reduce the jiggle to an acceptable level.  So, I want to sweat as much as possible.  Then  I took off the ankle brace I've had to wear for a couple of weeks because it rubs the skin on my foot raw.  It's bad enough walking like a hundred year old man, I don't need to do it like I'm also walking on fire.  I strapped on my I-Pod and hit start on the phone app that monitors my speed, distance, calories burned, etc.

The first three miles are the hardest.  What gets me to push through?  The Rocky theme playing in my head and every boxing documentary I've ever seen.  Those shows always have the scene of the boxer running in a hoodie with an I-Pod. 

They also have a guy that follows them around in a car offering water.

And, I have to stop myself from shadow boxing on the public streets.

I wonder where I could find one of those guys - you know, for motivation.

Anyway, 1.25 miles in, I start the biggest hill.  And, inevitably, half way up I start calling myself names.  This hill is not my friend, but it was the goal I made for myself before I took up running.

At mile 3, I hit my stride... this generally lasts until mile 7.  During this "blissful" time, I wonder why I thought this was so hard.  I even start singing along to my I-Pod.

Around mile 5, I wonder where the people are that are supposed to be handing me a cup of water.  I always see that on tv!

7 miles is when my legs start to tighten and my arms start to clench.

At the 7.25 mark, I seriously contemplate passing my towel to the elderly lady on her morning stroll in an attempt to turn this into a relay.  Your turn, grandma!  I change my mind when she clenches her fists as I approach as if preparing to defend herself against me.  Although, at this point, she could probably take me in a fair fight.

7.5 miles in, I start back toward home.  This is where I allow my ten walking steps.  This is the only time I allow anything less than a steady jog.  This is also where I get to the small hill that always surprises me.  Maybe it's that my lower body is already turning to jello?

At 8.5 miles I reach the medium hill.  This hill got the best of me on my first run, but I have whooped it every time since!  This is also where I start hallucinating.  I truly start thinking someone's going to notice how hard I'm working, and then they will reward me.  Like I said... it's not rational thinking.

I find myself in my driveway at exactly 9.1 miles. It's a little over an hour and a half later.  OK, so I'm no speed demon, but I don't think that's too bad considering I'm running up and down hills and around corners and curves.  Not to mention the traffic I have to stop for.

Anyway, I've had almost a month and a half of running.  I still don't get how people can actually enjoy this, but I know I run because it's a little bit of time where no one is talking to me.  Oh, and also because now, when someone is really ticking me off, I can say to myself  "If you can go run this off, you might not have to kill them."

Reality check

I am tired of people who think their kids are perfect.

OK...let me back up a little.

My children are amazing little beings.  They are smart, beautiful and full of personality.  I mean full of it.  No, seriously, sometimes they are FULL OF IT.  I have been lied to, "stolen" from, whispered about and ignored.  And that was only a Tuesday.  I have had eyes rolled at me, feet stomped past me, and more than once I'm pretty sure someone has tried to trip me.  No, my children are no angels; they are human beings.

I know a lot of people who apparently gave birth to honest to goodness walk-on-water do-no-wrong super-humans.  Their children never cause the trouble they always seem to find themselves in.  Their children's teachers are obviously lying when they suggest that the kids might need a little discipline.  Their children never talk back or argue.  In fact, their children could teach my children a thing or two about everything.  Right.

Here's the problem... I have eyes.  I have seen these sweet boys knock other kids down.  I have watched these girls make other girls feel terrible about themselves because of something they said.  In short, there's a remote possibility that their children might also be human beings.  But don't tell the parents that.

Now, to be fair, I do know some kids that I am pretty sure are very close to perfect.  They are always respectful, treat all of the other kids the same, and don't seem to have the kind of eyes that do any rolling.  Amazingly, however, most of the parents of these kids swear they are just like mine... imperfect.

I am not one of those people who cannot see the faults in my children.  The girls are, after all, carrying half of my DNA around.  If you tell me that one of them was involved in a problem, my first reaction is not to blame the other kid.  I will do all of my investigating, then I will place blame accordingly.  If it falls on the shoulders of one of my girls, so be it.  I'm all about reality. 

And, at a certain point, I am afraid I'll have to pull some adults into reality with me.  Because, if you walk around your whole life with your head buried in the sand, you'll miss the amazing things that happen inside a child when they realize that perfect is entirely over-rated. 

Braces...take 1

Yesterday was the day I've been dreading since her teeth started coming in.  Eva got braces.  Well...only on her top four front teeth.  But still, they're braces.  And, in a couple of weeks, she will be getting a palate separator.  Doesn't that just sound barbaric?  Anyway, it just breaks my heart that Eva is the first one to get these.  Yes, her teeth have been obviously in need of braces since she had more than two of them.  Yes, she's been sucking her thumb since birth.  And, yes, I know she'll be thankful later.  But she was so stressed out about it!  For anyone who doesn't know, Eva has been diagnosed with selective mutism and fairly serious anxiety issues.  Without going into details (as that is her personal story), I will just say that this was extremely difficult for her.

the last picture with naked teeth I'll have for a long time

She chose brackets in two different colors.  Purple (her favorite color) and green (my favorite).  She is the sweetest child ever.  Then she got pink rubber bands (Maya's favorite color).  Though I don't think they let her choose that because she really doesn't like pink.  I held her shaking hands and rubbed her trembling legs while they glued the brackets on.  And, forty five minutes later, we were done.

Eva is the first person in our family to ever have braces, so none of us knew what to expect.  While she was at school, I made her favorite soup and some ice cream because I was afraid her mouth would hurt too much to chew anything.  Apparently, however, she may only be a little sore the second day.  Unfortunately, she was up almost all night worried and anxious.  My fingers are crossed that no one at school makes her uncomfortable about this.  Since she's only seven, she doesn't know anyone else with braces.  I tried to reassure her that, when everyone else is just starting down this road, she'll already be almost done.  In the second grade, that doesn't help much.

I can only hope that she'll handle this the way she does most things.  With a smile in her eyes and a gentle heart.

It took 8.76 miles

The safety and well-being of my children is not up for debate, discussion, misinterpretation or miscommunication.  Period.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not the most laid-back person in the world.  However, as quickly as I am to anger, I am fairly quick about getting over things too.

Unless you mess with my children.

So, when I walked Maya into preschool this morning and discovered that the preschool classroom was devoid of adults, that was a problem for me.  We pay a lot of money to send her to the best preschool I could find.  It is well beyond our budget, but it was a great experience for Eva.  So, we scrape the tuition together every month.  With this absurd amount of money, we pay for three teachers to be in charge of the class.  This morning, only one of those teachers could be found, and she was just opening the front door for the four year olds to wander through.

No one made sure they went to the right class.
No one made sure they weren't hurting themselves or others.
No one made sure they weren't burning the school down.
or choking.
or crying.
or scared.
or that there wasn't a random adult in the room with them.
Nothing.

I don't usually walk Maya all the way in to the big classroom.  She likes it when I walk her inside to her coat hook, hug her, and get on my way.  But this morning I had to pay the tuition, so she agreed to let me walk her all the way inside.  This is the only way I knew what was happening. So, all of the parents who dropped their kids off at the door or left them at their coat hooks had no idea that they were sending their babies in to -------- no one.  These are four year old kids... not the most independent of our species.  After ten minutes and one other mother walking in to find the teachers MIA, the lead teacher wandered in and wondered aloud where the others were.  She didn't believe me that the kids were unattended.  She looked behind bookshelves like we were playing a big game of hide-and-seek.  I'm not kidding.  Finally, after going to get a teacher from another class to watch our preschoolers, one of the missing teachers wandered around the corner.  By the time I left, all three of the people who were supposed to look after my four year old were accounted for.  Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my peace of mind.

I was shaking when I finally pulled out of the parking lot.  My blood pressure was set to boiling.  It took an 8.76 mile run before the homicidal visions were blurred in my head.

I want to believe this was a one time thing, as the email waiting for me after my run said.  But, I don't take chances with the safety and well-being of my girls.

And that is not up for debate, discussion, misinterpretation or miscommunication.  Period.

I would do anything for you.  I would play any role for you.

When you're sad, I want to make you laugh.  You can count on me to say the first thing that pops into my head to make you laugh so hard you spit out your milk (or your problems, whichever is necessary).

When you're pissed off, I want to kick their ass... unless it's me, then you'll just have to get in line with all the other people who are mad at me.

I will help you connect the dots.  Then I will go back and erase the lines if you're not ready to see the whole picture.

When you succeed, I will be the loudest cheerleader on the sidelines - just ask anyone within ten miles of one of Eva's soccer games.

When you make a decision that I disagree with, I will keep my mouth shut and my fingers crossed.  Because, ultimately, this is your life and I'm just along for the ride until you kick me off.

If you fail, I will pick you up off the ground, dust you off, and help you find a better way to get the job done.

I am loyal to the end and committed to a fault.  Whatever you need, I will be right there with my bag of tricks.  Or a box of cookies - whatever is called for.

And, I will love doing all of this for you.  You will never hear me complain about taking care of you. 

But, sometimes, I wish you knew that the one who's pulling out all of the stops to take your mind off of your troubles could use a laugh herself.  That the one who will drop everything to help carry your load, sometimes has too much on her shoulders already.  That I would never tell you this because that might make you stop coming to me for help.  And, sometimes, the hand reaching out for my help is the only hand I've seen in months.

I am a strong, independent thinker.

I couldn't care less who thinks I should dress more "appropriately".  Your ideas on my choice of style (or lack thereof) don't effect me at all.  I don't care what you think of what I serve my family to eat or how I keep my house.  You have absolutely no say in any of the thoughts that swirl around in my head.

With one exception.

I care deeply about how I'm doing raising my girls.  And, when it comes to the kind of job I'm doing, I constantly compare myself to those around me.  I know they say that you won't know how you did as a mother until your children are grown, but I believe you get a pretty good idea when looking at the kids around you.

Now, don't get me wrong, I definitely have the cream of the crop of children.  My concern comes in when I'm trying to decide how badly I'm screwing them up.  To make this assessment, I need look no further than some of the moms of my girls' friends.

It is a veritable plethora of "Super Moms".  They work, they have successful marriages, and they have amazing kids.  They are the moms who welcome sleepovers at a moment's notice.  I have yet to have a single sleepover.  I would like to think it's because none of the girls have ever asked for one, but I know it's mostly because I don't need more girls in my house.  I feel like I'm living in a perpetual slumber party... no sleeping, lots of squealing, and plenty of "spa nights".  They are the moms who are raising kids who request donations to their favorite charities instead of presents.  If I even suggested that idea to my kids, they would think I had been abducted and replaced by a total moron.  They don't need any crap, but crap is what they desire every chance they get.  They are the moms who don't blink an eye when their child wants to sign up for yet another activity.  I am nearing my limit simply with two in Girl Scouts, one in dance, one in band, art club & a choir group, two in CCD, and one in soccer.  The moms who have it all together intimidate me.  And I really don't intimidate easily.

It is these women that make me stop when I want to choke myself for agreeing to make two different runs to three different schools in the morning so that Sofia could join the choir group.  Without these women around, unknowingly keeping me in check, I would have thrown in the towel by now.  And, while I know that I will never be the mom that all the other kids want to hang with, I use them as my inspiration to keep trying not to screw up the perfection I was blessed with in my kids.  Or, at the very least, hide it better.