4 year old

i want to run like a four year old. remember the wonder of being 4? not knowing, or caring, what day it was? Not knowing where or why you were running? just running. now, i always know my destination. for better or worse, i know where i am going and how long it will take to get there. i know why i am running and what i am running from. it is different on different days. sometimes i am running from a holiday meal and the fat it will bring, sometimes i am running from life and the pain it will bring. sometimes, instead of running from, it is running towards things. towards giggles and kids being silly. towards a smile on my face that only a good sweat can bring, and towards a pride i have in knowing what my body can still do. i guess running as a 38 year old can be as much fun as running as a four year old, just a little heavier on the mind and soles of my feet.

suburbs

sometimes I think i am old enough to know better. I shouldn't make the same mistakes at 38 as i did at 28. Like, I know skinny jeans are not for me. Truly, are they for anyone? And if I know that, shouldn't i in turn, know that I am too old to do tequila shots one night and expect to get up with any grace at all the next morning?

At what age does immaturity turn into senility? When does bad judgement turn from innocent mistake to losing ones mind? At 28 sleeping with the wrong guy is expected. At 38 it is a made for t.v show with the word "cougar" in the title. I think a lot of us are in a grey area here. I feel like I am in my 20's but my actions should reflect 30's. My thoughts feel age appropriate (except for the crush on Zach Efron), yet my memory serves me as a 70 year old. Yes, I have called the kids by the dogs name but, you know what, my friends still know who I mean!

I never wanted 40 to be the new 30. I wanted to know when I could let it all go and wear a mu mu around town. maybe even slippers. but I have been becoming startlingly aware that behavior has nothing to do with age, experience or wisdom, it has to do with fear. Fear of what everyone may think, or say, or do. Fear of what you see in the mirror, fear of what your kids may repeat to strangers, or worse yet, your friends.

The only time I am not afraid is if i am running, or under water in the ocean off of Hawaii. How sad is that? I am a grown woman and any sort of interactive life scares me to death. Maybe senility would be a blessing, I wouldn't realize I was afraid and i could just be free to wear mu mu's and slippers everyday, not just Halloween.

Forget the age of enlightenment, I am going straight to the age of "i don't give a fuck" and when I get there, I may arrive in skinny jeans. Even if I am a wee bit senile, you can bet my smile will be one of inner peace and mockery, for I will realize that i am not 1/2 as insane as life in the suburbs.

comfort of strangers

Have you ever noticed that becoming a mother, and known to everyone, makes you drawn to becoming a no one and finding comfort in strangers?

I started writing these little blips to keep me sane. I would write with no abandon because no one was looking (kind of like wearing a bikini at 40.) I found some of them funny and so did a few other people. Well, I think I have gotten off track. I wrote something for some friends a few weeks ago and now I have lost the private excitement of strangers. The accolades from people I know I find condescending, the comments from anonymous readers I find inspiring.

It is something that happened with motherhood. I used to turn to my friends for help and clarity but, the minute #1 was born, all of the sudden my friends weren't good enough, or at least I certainly wasn't going to look stupid in front of them and ask for help. So where do we all end up? Chat rooms, websites, the self help isle at Barnes and Noble?! I for one, am tired of it. A good, 17 year old girl cry, between friends just doesn't seem to work as well when you are 38. I am not sure if my best motherhood friend even knows how much I want to run away from this job. But, I do know that Carrie L. from Des Moines, Iowa does. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel the need to hide my weakest points from my strongest friends?

I am tired of pretending I am not neurotic at times with the kids, with myself. I am tired of trying to be everything to everybody and making all the moms like me. Yes, I am talking to you, lady in the boots that always reminds me of how much money you make. Oh, and you, to her left, the one that won't admit she has Botox but talks about how great her skin looks at 40. And no, I didn't forget you Mrs. Howard, the queen of the back handed compliment ( i am only brave enough to call her out by name because she doesn't know how to use a computer).

Yes, I want you all to like me, but maybe you should like me for who I am, not who I am pretending to be on any given day. Seriously, I think I am going back to writing for myself and saying what I need to say, not what you want me to say. So, if I offend you by name or social stereotype than send me a snarky email, anonymous please, I think I just like it better that way.

good enough

Does it make me a slacker if I just want to be "good enough"? I don't want to be PTA president, I don't want to do fundraisers, I want to buy out of the boyscout work option and go climbing instead. I want my kids to be happy, healthy and well adjusted. Does that mean I have to be happy, healthy and well adjusted? I hope not. Happy, sure. Healthy? I try. Well adjusted? Not even in the ball park. Sometimes I am sure that I am the only one dreading another day of motherhood. I go running not just for my health but for an escape, I can pretend I am the world's best runner and no one will be any wiser. Try and pretend I'm the world's best mom and I am shut down before breakfast.

So here is my confession.... my boys don't bathe every day, sometimes they have toaster waffles for breakfast, they will go to school in dirty sweatshirts and don't care if the socks have been worn twice before. I make up excuses as to why I can't do PTA things, I can't say "no", really, I can't. I don't mind when I smell after a run and mocking others sometimes makes me feel better about myself.

Wow! I feel great, maybe that is what will make me the perfect mom.. deciding that "good enough" is really as good as it gets, and to me, that sounds like "perfect".

inner thoughts

note to self, and others....

do not approach a wandering dog on a hot ass day to help it, regardless of collar and sweet disposition... it will bite you. (little fucker, it still hurts too.)

just because your dog is friendly off leash does not mean mine is while obeying the "on leash" laws...

a turkey in the bushes can sound EXACTLY like a mountain lion running to eat you, i can only assume the reverse is also true.

drinking margaritas the day before you are supposed to donate blood does not help your iron levels, even if the drinks were in a metal thermos.

being called a "loser" by an anonymous 5 year old hurts.

you are never the "cool parent" so please stop trying, it hurts me to look at you.

busboy meets main dish (another mountain lion encounter)

So, remember how I thought it was SO cool that I found the deer leg and kept running anyway? Well, I am not. Because yesterday, my friend, saw the mountain lion! Yup, and the mountain lion saw her, she swears he licked his lips. He was probably 25 yards away. She spotted him, he crouched down, tail high in the air, eyes locked on her. She grabbed 2 rocks, held them above her head and ran backwards from where she came. Neither broke gaze until she was safely( i am using that term loosely from now on) back outside the gate. Now, I am impressed. I like to think I would be that cool and calm but, truth be told, most of my runs back on the trails, I am too busy looking at me feet to see the hungry lion lurking in the pastures. I am too concerned with falling on my face or finding the right song on my ipod that I would not even see or hear my death approaching.

I think my only way to solve this new problem is to find new running friends, ones I don't like very much so that we don't spend an hour laughing when we could be astutely listening for a predator. Or maybe some that are at least slower than myself so I can out-run them when the need arises?

Either way, the next day, when we were running together, re-telling the story of the mountain lion encounter, from around a corner, a huge, blue eyed, black beast came sprinting around the corner, we screamed like it was the Chupacabra coming for our souls instead of the furry, face licking dog that it was. I then realized, like our Fido here, maybe it wasn't a mountain lion she saw after all, maybe it was just a fox playing with a field mouse. Yup, that must be it, I'm going out there again tomorrow!

invincibility

They say you deliver the baby, the placenta, then your heart on your sleeve. Okay, I get that, never had a reason to question it or look any further into what may fall out next but, with a 6 and 8 year old, I have found something new which has been reborn.... my invincible side. Not the "Drink wine coolers and ice block on the golf course" invincible side but the, "so what if there have been mountain lion sightings on this trail, i need a run" sort of invincibility.


I was out running yesterday in an ipod induced cadence when I stopped in my tracks. There, on the trail in front of me, was a deer leg. Not a hoof print, or a bone... a leg. No head or body, just a leg. The splintered bone, hair and hoof. Testing my fear factor relentlessly. I looked around, no fresh blood, didn't smell too bad, I figure it must have happened a long time ago and was pretty safe to go on so... I kept running. UH-HUH, just decided to keep going further into the woods to see if I could be dessert.

Now, this seemed logical to me. What are the chances of being eaten by a mountain lion? I had a great run out and was on my way back when I realized what I was gambling on. Odds that I'd get eaten? I mean, I have 2 kids shouldn't I just make sure I am no where being eaten is an option? I forget sometimes that life isn't fair and that bad things happen to good people but, does that mean i have to run on a well lit treadmill in a gym with security guards all the time? i hope not. I picked the leg up to finish my run home...I thought my boys would think it was cool. About 1/4 mile later I figured, why temp fate and lure the sleeping lion down the trail to follow the stolen scent? (I hid it in the bushes to show the kids later) I made it home, Purelled my hands and called all my running girlfriends to warn them not to run alone. Of course you'll find me out there tomorrow but this time I am definitely bringing the dog. I may not be quick, but I do learn.

The church of girlfriends hiking

I have found my religion. I know it will sound strange and kooky and down right crystal-esque but the mountains are my sanctuary. I went to Yosemite this weekend with my girlfriends and I found God.

There is no other explanation for climbing a granite monolith in 5 hours with 3 of your best friends than divine intervention. There is no description worthy for looking out over the valley floor, from the top of Half Dome, and realizing how minute my problems and complaints really are. PTA? The hell with them, I just climbed a granite staircase that someone carved out about 150 years ago. Junior League? Who cares, I just scaled a rock that is 8,842 feet above most of my thoughts. How could one not be grateful for a body, and mind, that can do that?

high points?: my 3 friends laughing, Denise's bear bell (it worked, we weren't eaten), a group of, my now favorite, flamboyent boys who sang "happy birthday" to me and it being captured on video! Diving into an icy lake above the falls in my clothes(my motherly disclaimer: do not try this at home or in spring...) peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the crazy looks i got for running on the way down and definitely the pizza and beer at the end.

low points: Getting busted by Edie our friendly (?) chainsmoking chambermaid for leaving the food storage locker open for 3.5 seconds, exercise induced asthma, the feeling in my legs after hiking 18 miles in record time, and leaving...

You know, come to think of it, there really were no low points. Edie turned out to be a wealth of information and one hell of a photographer. The asthma came under control and we all made it to the top together. The feeling in my legs just goes to prove I am still alive, and gratefully so! Even coming home meant I got to see the kids, and those hugs just have to be the best.

Thank you Christi, Denise and Mari for keeping me laughing and finding my religion, maybe it's not in the mountains, maybe it is in my friends...

running or dreaming?

Today, a friend of mine thoughtfully pointed out that the act of running produces much of the same effects as a nightmare... alone, in the dark, sweating, heart racing... I found this to be the funniest thing I have heard in a long time. It is true for many, my dream of running is a nightmare. He reminded me that, not long ago, all of those things would signal a "save your life, run away" reaction. So what is it exactly that I am fleeing from? My kids? sure. The monotony of life? Of course. So what brings me back, repeatedly? Most days, I choose to get up before the crack of dawn and drive my body into a sweaty, heart pumping, legs aching, exhausted state. When I return home my heart is still racing, i am dripping in sweat, and it is usually still dark. Maybe I should try and figure that out tomorrow morning... for now, when the kids wake up with a nightmare, I'll just tell them everything is okay... they were just going for a run.

spread too thin

I wish I was talking about my thighs but alas, I am not. I am talking about the schedules we put ourselves on...
6:30 wake-up/make coffee - (okay more like 6:55 after i hit the snooze 3x)
7:00 get kids up and dressed and fed and clothed and backpacked and lunched.
7:45 get kids to school, wait around while said kids get into the right classes, teachers, office stops, lost and founds.
8:20-make phone calls to friends because God knows it is the only chance i will get to talk all day.
8:30 hit the trails for a run.
9:30 come home to shower, Safeway does NOT need to smell me this way.
9:45 check my email and drink the coffee i have long forgotten about but now truly need.
10:00 try to send non-snarky replies to emails from PTA's, MEF's, MJWC's (you get the picture)
11:00 go grocery shopping, oh the monotony could kill me.
11:45 pick up kindergartner.
12:15 lunch with above mentioned cranky devil (kindergartner)
1:00 play stuffed animals or other game which i need to use my brain to not set off a particularly edgy 5 year old.
1:45 pick up 2nd grader.
2:15 snack and t.v
3ish homework and swimming or bike riding or skateboarding... something outside!
4ish husband home and mad because the house is a mess. (it really is but seriously... mad?)
5ish start dinner and ignore fighting kids.
6ish eat dinner and ignore fighting kids.
7 re-check email for bitter responses.
7:30 thank god, bed and books.
8:30 trashy television and if i am lucky some writing.

this is my choice of schedule, i am sure i can tweak it one way or another but for the most part it works... accept for the 3 meetings i have missed this week, 2 forgotten lunches and one back to school fiasco. i am spread too thin and something has got to give, i think it's going to be the cranky husband!

wait, what?

Now, I am a grown woman. Not old old, but old enough to have kids in school, dishes in the sink and only 1 good pair of shoes. To me, this is middle age. So why is it i have the memory span of an 80 year old? It used to be funny, ha ha i forgot the doctor's name, oops.. almost forgot the diaper bag, you get the picture. Why is it now more like... what are the kids names again? We only have 2... are you sure? The simple question of their ages can brings me to a dead pan stare for a good 10 seconds too long.

i swore i would never turn into my mother. i do sit ups to avoid the belly bulge (still not working) i won't match my shoes to my purse (unless it is a really cute purse) and lipstick will not cross my lips unless it has a flavor involved. To me, THESE things signify my mother. Who knew her lack of memory would hit me out of nowhere? i do the sudoku, i try crosswords, this is not supposed to be happening yet, and selectively too. I can tell you where my last run was, what route, how long it took and what clothes i was wearing but, ask me the day a field trip form is due and i channel my mother. Does this mean something?... Do i love running more than my kids? They ask me who i love best, maybe they weren't giving me enough options, throw in some alone running time and you may have a hands down winner...

That is where i am not my mother. In my perfect 37 year old mind she never yelled, always loved and smiled at us, never tried to, literally, run away from home. She baked cookies and patiently played bored games, she read us books and laughed at all of our jokes. She had the patience of a saint. Maybe i should embrace my increasing lack of memory in honor of my mom and not beat myself up next time i call the boys the wrong names (yes, even the dog's name). Hmmm, it is a thought, or maybe i should keep up the sudoku and run with lipstick on tomorrow, yup... i'll try that first.

grab your shoes...school is in!

Running has taught me to speed up many things in life, a tired friend, a tempo run, heck even healing an injury. But, it has not taught me the art of speeding my kids out the door when school starts again! Oh, the glorious back to school smell of August, glue sticks and crayons? check. My well worn Nike's? Ready to go. All i need is a few willing participants to get to school on time so that i can go for that long awaited run.

i have a dream, a recurring dream, the kids wake up happy, they crawl into my bed to say good morning, they get themselves dressed and politely ask for breakfast (sometimes they make me a latte). They brush their teeth and comb their hair, they get their own backpacks and open the garage door. Our first day of school has begun and it is bliss. They wave and smile and bring apples to their teachers. They tell me to have a good run and they skip into school. Then I wake up.

Reality? Today is the day they decide to sleep in! The little farmers haven't slept past 6 am for 2 months and the one day I need them up, they are all sweet and dreamy in bed. I make my first mistake of the day and let them stay "just 5 more minutes" this 5 minutes will cost me 2 happy kids, 1 packed snack and a mouth full of clean teeth. By the time we get out the door, take the pictures, load up the car, go to the bathroom 1 last time and remember where the hell it is i am going... my run has gotten off on the wrong foot. The kids are upset, my shoes aren't tied and this is just not how i pictured the first day of school.

What I noticed while wiping the tears from the boys faces (that i am sure i caused), is that in front of the camera it was all about the kids in their new clothes and nervous smiles but behind the camera, it was about my long forgotten nike's, running shorts and ipod raring to go. Turn the camera around to all the moms waving goodbye and you will see the same thing. Maybe not running, but flip flops signaling a pedicure, glasses still on because the bed will still be warm, or even a hot cup of coffee in a ceramic mug knowing she can finish it in peace. The first day of school is not reserved for kids.

Maybe my running lesson at the beginning of school should be how to slow things down. I realize one day, they will drive themselves to school, there will be no happy "good mornings" (not even in my dreams) and instead of worrying about the new clothes, i should make sure we slowly enjoy this process. Them getting back into learning at school and me remembering how to learn on the run. Really, what's 5 more minutes in the grand scheme of things? I'm sure my neglected summer thighs won't mind me taking it down a notch on today, this first day of school.

i am not alone

it has officially happened. I am not unique. I was sitting on the beach trying not to yell at my youngest for the 100th time that day and it happened. At first it wasn't clear, just faint voices in the background, then there was no mistaking it. I heard my own conversation, not my voice, other mothers, all over the beach..." Hunter, If you don't get back here right now.... I don't know who you think you are Mister... Fine Molly, if you want to get a sunburn...." I couldn't believe it, all the arguements that I thought were just mine alone actually belong to other people out there. and guess what? their arguements didn't end any better than mine did! Hunter ran off, Mister thought he was the center of the universe and Molly got the sunburn she was asking for. Their lives were just as miserable as mine for that brief minute. And you know what? It felt great. I looked at my boys who were not fighting at that EXACT moment and I thought.. "damn, i'm good, they aren't so bad, it could be worse, I could have those 2 daughters fighting down the way" I resolved to stop yelling and enjoy their youthful energy, that is until a sand castle got kicked over and I distinctly heard the word "butthead" uttered. Then, I saw the other mothers breathe a sigh of relief as I started in on yet another verse of, "If I have to tell you one more time..."

a runners birthday

I have a new plan. For my next birthday I want to go running with 2 of my friends. Not a regular run, a 3 day triangulated run, with wine involved. I want to find 3 towns about 10 miles apart, in a triangle pattern. i want to park at one, run with a little backpack to another. I want to check into a hotel where we will shower and meander the town, having dinner and drinking wine while our running clothes are drying in the sink. I want to stay up late laughing and go to sleep full. The next day we can have breakfast, put on our now clean running clothes and make our way to the next town. Sound familiar yet? We would shower and eat and laugh and drink and go to sleep happy and full again. Upon waking on the 3rd day we would be a little bit slower, a little sad that the adventure had ended. Our running clothes would be a little less fresh and our jokes a little more stale. As we made our way back to our car and eventually back to our mothering lives, we would be full again. Full of pride and excitement and stories to tell. Is this too much to ask for a birthday? Now, all I need is the 2 friends... :)

running partner

Let me start by saying, I hate my dog. On a day to day basis, more like minute to minute, I hate my dog. She is the WORST dog in the world. She barks, she doesn't listen, she begs all day for food. I know it's not her fault, we flunked out of puppy school. She had some hard shoes to fill since I used to have the BEST dog in the world. I know, there is pressure. And pressure never does anyone any good. I learned the best way to relieve the pressure was to take her running. And that is what we have done, we have logged hundreds of miles, up hills, over streams, through the woods. Thousands of ticks later and she is still not tired. On the pavement, town to town and back again, foxtails and poison oak, she is still not tired. Horses to look at, Cow piles to eat and turkeys to chase, nope, not tired yet. But what I just realized today is, I am tired. And when I am tired I don't feel the pressure and I am not stressed and she no longer seems to be the worst dog in the world. Holy Crap, it wasn't her at all, it was me.... all along, it was me. Sorry puppy, here's a treat. Wanna go for a run?

i'm a fraud

I just realized that I may very well be a fraud. I am petrified that one of the runners in my life will find out i am not a "real" runner and then what will happen? what if one of the mom's from school realizes i am not all that great a mother? that is a lot of pressure.
I put in for the new york marathon lottery (again) and part of the form asks you what your last marathon time of the previous year is. holy crap, what a way to realize that a year has past and i haven't done one! what does that make me, a slacking runner? unmotivated? maybe, but i can live with it until it stares back at me from an entry form. none of my "mother" friends know what i am sacrificing to be in art class on a wednesday morning. they don't see the look of shame from my computer's face, judging my lack of commitment to the trail. they just see a good stay at home mom. but honestly, i am not. i am not good at staying at home. i am good at running from home, but according to the ING marathon form, I am not good at that either. maybe a better question would be... how long have you been THINKING about applying for this race? Have you been counting the hours, are you committed enough to give us your credit card? if the answer to the question is "yes" than feel free to skip the section that makes you feel like a fraud, running or not, someone, one day will figure out i am nothing i claim to be. except, i do plan on running about a 4:30 marathon, i'll hit the trails tomorrow, art class not withstanding.

i quit

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and guess what? I quit. That is what I want for the day. I want to wake up at 11, for the 1st time mind you, not the 3rd. I want to feel a little bit hung over and call a girlfriend to go get a greasy breakfast at a hip neighborhood joint that I have to wait in line for, but it doesn't matter if we wait because frankly I will have nothing else to do. I will get endless refills on coffee, make fun of those around me, standing in judgement because I am not trying to set a good example for anybody. I will use lots of syrup and not Purell my hands. I will decide, at the last minute, to take the dog for a walk, or go to the beach, or have a bloody mary. I will come home and go back to bed. I will wait for the phone to ring with an exciting offer of something to do and then, without asking anyone, I will decide if I want to do it, and not pack snacks when I leave. I think I'll have a beer at 3. Not wine with dinner. I will 2nd hand smoke with no abandon and shamelessly go to sleep without brushing my teeth. I will have sex early in the evening without wondering who may wake up. I will sleep through the night and, in the morning, I will be woken at 6 and realize the previous day was not worth it. why? you may ask, because for better or for worse (most days the better), it's not my life anymore and revisiting it sometimes just makes me homesick. So Happy Mother's Day girls, maybe I'll quit next week...