Our NYE "house party"

New Year's Eve used to be full.

Full of alcohol.
Full of people you barely know/don't really like/could really do without.
Full of moments of "did you see that?"/"can you believe that?"/"what was I thinking?".
Full of dress up clothes, face full of makeup, hair full of spray.
Full of anticipation.
Full of disappointment.
Full of taking chances.
Full of crossing fingers and holding breath.
Did I mention the alcohol?  It's important because that is what lead to most of the other things.

Of course, New Year's Eve inevitably lead to New Year's day.  This was the day I spent wishing I had spent the night before a little less full of fun.  Or at least with a little more full stomach.

Now, the night is spent with a lot less of everything.  For the second year, I spent it with my girls.  New Year's has become yet another holiday where all the focus is on my children.  It was the last hold-out, but now every single special occasion is spent trying to make it more special for them.

It starts with making mini pizzas. You can't really tell from this picture, but we put the pepperoni in the shape of 2012.

Of course, someone is ALWAYS upset, regardless of the "special" occasion.

Then, three of us did pedicures.

Then, there was a lot of Wii playing, snacking & Pictureka (the Romero family favorite).

The snacking is a big deal in our house.  I never let them snack after dinner.  But, on this one night, I make a bunch of appetizers, "mocktails", and cake balls and they can graze to their hearts' content.  By the time we were done working up a sweat dancing together, Maya had a face covered in cheese dip & they were all full of fizzy cherry limeade.  They, of course, didn't make it to midnight.  Sofia went down first, followed by Maya, and Eva was the last to close her eyes somewhere around 10:45.  This is late for them, which is probably why NYE is known as "Stay up late holiday" in my house. 

Unfortunately, New Year's Day is not known as "Sleep in late holiday".  Exhaustion does make them get along a little better though.



Well, two of them at least!

So, as of today, we're on our way to fulfilling our resolutions:  losing weight, learning not to hit our sisters or lie, getting better at math & soccer, and eating more enchiladas.  I won't reveal who each of those belongs to, but we all have a lot of work ahead of us. 

No, New Year's Eve isn't what it used to be.  But, I'm too old to deal with the nonsense of the public any more.

Remind me of that next year when I am sitting at home wishing I was out having "fun" like the rest of the world.

Harder than I thought

There's something about Christmas Eve. 

When I was a kid, it was my favorite day of the year.  I got to go with my dad and open presents.  Then to his family's and open more presents.  Then to more family to eat tamales.  Then he took me home where my grandma would be waiting up for me.  She would listen intently to all of my excitement, and then she sent me on my way to bed.  Of course, once I got old enough, she stopped waiting for me to go to bed.  When I got home that night, she would have already stuffed the stockings and placed the presents under the tree.  But she was still there, waiting for me when I got home.

Now that I'm the mama, most of the magic is gone.  (I say most because there's really nothing more magical than seeing the excitement in the eyes of your children.)  Now, I take my kids with me to their grandpa's to open presents.  Then we pack up the car and drive to more family to open more presents and play with cousins they really only see on Christmas and Easter.  Then we drive all the way back home quietly (mostly in hopes that they'll stay asleep once we arrive).  Every year, it gets a little harder to stay awake until I'm sure they're asleep.  Now I see why my grandma gave up eventually!

Also, every year about this time, I really miss her.  I miss the silly things she put in my stocking.  I miss the way she wore her Santa hat while sipping coffee & smoking.  I wish she was around to let me know if I'm doing this right.

This will be the first holiday that I'm on my own with the girls.  I naively thought it would be easier than this.  Putting on the smiley face for them is so much easier on a regular day.  I would give absolutely anything to be at my grandma's house tonight.  Warm & safe & secure in the knowledge that, in the morning, everything will be magical.  Instead, I will wait up late tonight until I know there are sugarplums dancing in the heads of my three girls.  I will pull out all of the presents and the stocking stuffers and quietly get them ready for the morning.  Then, in the morning, I will pull out all of the magic my grandma gave me over all of the years and sprinkle it on the three most important people in the world.  And, hopefully, all they'll remember about this Christmas is that it was just as amazing as every one that came before and after.

Quick note

I haven't been posting lately because I haven't had anything funny/witty/light hearted to say.  And, honestly, this won't be any of those things either; but, I'm tired of screaming inside about it.

This was Maya putting on her clothes after her winter dance recital yesterday.  Yes, the polka dot pettiskirt & polka dot legwarmers are her regular clothes.  Watching the recital with us were people who supposedly know my girls very well.  And yet, one of them still asked if this was her costume. Well...

Here is Maya in her "costume" at the park

and at a party

and watching tv

and playing outside.

I am quite confident that, if you looked at my daughter through an x-ray machine,  you would see she is filled with crinoline and tulle.  She is happiest in big, frilly, poofy clothes.  And, who wouldn't want to make their kid smile if all it took was a silly outfit? 

So, no, I am not a pageant mom.  No, I don't force my child to dress up for my own amusement.  If you saw the other two girls, you would know that this is not of my doing.  Maya is her own person.  Yes, it would be much easier sometimes if she would just put on a pair of jeans and tennis shoes.  But, that wouldn't be Maya.  So, I will continue to buy her pettiskirts, tutus, and sparkly shoes until she grows out of this faze.  Or, I will buy them until she's old and gray.  Either way, she will always be too fabulous for anyone who rolls their eyes and whispers about her mama when she walks by.

Things that go bump...or rattle...or roar

Is it just me, or is the world going crazy(ier)?  Things that aren't supposed to happen at all seem to be occurring with some frequency now.

My Eva has a lot of fear in her little body.  Not the blatant, cling-to-mama's-leg kind of fear.  But the what's-lurking-around-the-corner kind. 

She hates open doors.  Every bathroom & closet door has to be closed if she's near it.

She worries every time she hears anyone arguing.

She's quick to point out if someone is doing something she feels is dangerous.  She's genuinely concerned for complete strangers.

She also worries about things that will never happen to her.  Or at least, up until recently, I was confidently reassuring her would never happen to her.

When we go to the beach in the summer, she worries about sharks.  Remember...she doesn't go more than knee deep into the ocean.  So, I've always told her there are no sharks where she plays.  Then, last summer, at a beach very close to where we were, a girl was attacked by a shark in shallow water.  Great.

She worries about extreme weather.  She always asks questions to see if I will know what to do when something terrible happens.  "What if there's a flood?  Where should we go?"  "When a hurricane hits, what are we supposed to do?"  It doesn't help that she likes to watch the news with me.  So, when she sees something tragic on TV, she wants to know how to prepare herself to survive.  Remember, we live in Kansas.  I tell her all the time that there will never be a hurricane in Kansas.  Or a landslide.  Or an earthquake.  Then, last night, Kansas had an earthquake.  Just a small one (I didn't even know what it was until this morning), but the beds shook.  Fantastic.  I know she was thinking, "but you said that would never happen here!".  I hate it when Mother Nature makes a liar out of me.

My sweet Eva worries about everything that little girls should never think about.  When we go to the zoo, she wants to know how she can be sure the animals won't get out of their cages.  I give her the basic, boilerplate answer: Because they just won't.  Then, a few weeks ago, some moron set a menagerie of lions and tigers and bears literally loose.  She watched the news with me as I sat open-mouthed in awe of that man's stupidity.  Awesome.  Again, out of the corner of her eye, "but you said that would never happen!" 

So, as a mother, I'm left trying to reassure my kids that the likelihood of something dramatic happening to them in this tiny Midwestern town is too low to measure.  Meanwhile, between nature and complete idiots, dramatic nonsense is happening all around them.  Eva is a little ball of knots on a good slow-news day.  What does it do to her when wild exotic animals are roaming the streets or earthquakes are shaking her house?  Not good things, that's for sure.

So, if this stupid asteroid hits earth or a hurricane travels up the Missouri river, I will completely give up.  I will huddle under the covers with her and we will tremble in fear (or frustration) together.

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.