Waiting to feel the flutter

Now, before any one panics—no I am not pregnant.
(Please four is enough! Have you met Captain Destruction? It is a wonder my house is still standing. )

I just feel like I am pregnant.


I am expecting a triathlon.

My training and races this year have become very much like my pregnancies. In the beginning of the season, I was excited about the races I had chosen, the training plan I had selected, and was bursting at a seams to get started. And, similar to each of my pregnancies, I kept everything a secret just in case something happened and my races and training did not work out.

After a while, the cat got out of the bag. I could no longer keep my training and races a secret as plans were being made and I had to politely decline due to biking/swimming/running or purchases were being made and noticed. I did not flaunt my training, but others were aware of it and some began to cheer me on. I was still excited to train, eagerly anticipating the outcome.

Now, I am in the end of the second to the beginning of the third trimester of my triathlon training. Just like in the middle stages of my pregnancies where I had become accustomed to being pregnant, adjusted to the new body, limitations, and needs, I now have become adjusted to the routine. The novelties of new workouts have worn off and running, swimming, and biking have all become part of the checklist of my daily life:

aGo grocery shopping
aRide bike for 2 hours
aLoad dishwasher
aClean bathrooms
aSwim 1 mile time trial
aFold and put away laundry

Now, much unlike my pregnancies, I have not been getting that sweet reminder of the purpose of all this hard work. When your body is working hard baking a baby, you get some wonderful reminders of what the prize is at the end of the journey. There are kicks and punches, flutters and nudges from the little being within. If you are lucky (read: have a great insurance plan), you are even able to get occasional pictures of the reward as it grows and changes, providing concrete evidence of progress.

I have been desperately searching for those flutters in my training – a great ride, faster paces, making the “impossible” interval. Those little nudges have just not been there (or they have not been at all apparent to me).

I read triathlon blogs for entertainment and to be inspired. It seems, lately, that everyone I read has been feeling the flutter. They have had personal best runs, rides, or swims. They have been placing in their age groups, having epic training adventures in picturesque settings, or meeting and training with phenomenal friends. They have found cheerleaders in the most unexpected of places.

Me, lately. I got nothin'. I do most of my training alone. When I swim at the Y, there are no feet to catch. When I run, the only conversations I have are with myself as I create the lists of things I need to get done. There are no epic rides in picturesque settings. Usually, I have to stick close to home in case the babysitter calls. Today, I travelled the same uphill stretch of road twice (up and down) as a part of my hill workout. (I am sure that the AT&T workmen thought I was crazy). The only striking scene I noticed was the poor squirrel that didn’t make it across the road (which I had the pleasure of viewing four times).

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had a few flutters since I began this year’s journey. I ran the ½ marathon with some fabulous friends and made my super secret far reaching time goal. However whatever amount of flutter that event gave me, the race seems weeks ago and my mind has converted that flutter to the speculation that it was just gas.

At some point, when I was pregnant with all of my children, I decided that I was done with being pregnant. I had enough of the huge belly, the food cravings and aversions, the continuous need to go the bathroom, and the inability to ever get comfortable. Many women experience this during the last months before their due date and my triathlon pregnancy is heading down the same path as my “A” race due date is a mere 7 weeks away. I am getting tired of the huge rides and runs, frustrated at my constant hunger and not being able to find the find the perfect food to satiate it, and I know that Mr. Spie no longer wants to be a message therapist.

Much like my overwhelming desire to meet the person I was growing and begin to parent and LOVE them, I just want to race and see the concrete evidence of my work. But, similar to pregnancy, I know there is some time left on the triathlon timer and my "A" game is not quite done.

I also know that sometimes a mood can be changed just by a few swift kicks to the ribs and I am sure that with a few friendly triathlon nudges, my mood will be lifted too!

In-tro-spec-shun

Well, my solitary and confinement sentence has been served. I was released last night around 8:00 p.m. During my brief foray into communication lock down, I had plenty of time for "thinkun" and apparently I am not too deep because this is a sampling what I was pondering last week:

1. Door to door school fundraisers – Why can’t they sell what I want (or at least what I need at the time)? The other day a neighborhood child came to our door to selling candy bars to raise money for their high school band. I, being the incredibly mean person that I am (according to my husband), turned her down under the guise that I had no money. I truly didn’t. I only had $4.00 which was allotted towards hot lunch for my children for the next week. Even if I had money, I would not have purchased a candy bar. As a rule, I do not eat candy and although I do allow my children to have candy on occasion, I certainly would not purchase them a $4.00 candy bar as they would not savor it. The bar would be inhaled in a matter of seconds. I doubt that it would be tasted.

Cost per child per second of entertainment : $1.00

--and the sugar after effect is certainly not priceless.

Why can’t there be door to door sales of things I actually want: NUUN, Body Glide, Granola or some sort of nutrition bar? Or need (so I don’t have to take the unruly lot to the store): toilet paper, paper towels, Cool Whip, quart milk, loaf of bread, and a stick of butter…. Imagine door to door paper goods sales people – I would so be on top of that!

2. Why is it physically impossible for me to ride my bike with my mouth shut? I tried to ride with my mouth shut. It just doesn’t work.

3. On a related note, why does my nose run the minute I sit on my bike? It doesn’t just drip. It is a veritable faucet for my entire ride and stops immediately when I dismount the bike.

4. Are #2 and #3 related somehow?

5. Why was I panic stricken on Thursday during my bike ride when I realized that I was going to arrive home 10 minutes later than I told the babysitter? Although I am sure that it increased my MPH average, I was pedaling like I stole my bike and a pack of wild coyotes were chasing me. I am paying the babysitter to watch my children. They are going to get paid for the time I am late. Why do I feel beholden to a 13 year old?

6. Why, when I was buttering up myself for Thursday’s ride with Chamois Butter, did I feel like I was doing something morally wrong?

7. If I tested my treadmill to see if it was calibrated wrong, would it change they way I do any of my training? Would it just be an ego experiment?

8. How would I feel if it was actually calibrated correctly? Is ignorance (or believing in the tales I tell myself) truly bliss?

9. Why don't they make technical shirts or running/biking shorts with small terry cloth patches on the back so I have a very absorbent pad to wipe my sweat, drool (see #2), or nose drippies (#3) when I run or ride?

10. At what age do you become "okay" with public nudity?

At Y, I am very modest. All of my actions revolve around exposing as little flesh as possible. All of the older swimming ladies walk around completely nude, talk to each other nude, talk to me nude. I find myself uncomfortable for them. At what age do you stop clinging to the towel?

11. Can eating half of the loaf of banana bread count as a serving of fruits or vegetables for the day?

12. When did my sense of smell become so warped?

Recently, I passed by a woman in a store that was wearing Sunflowers perfume. I used to love that scent. Now, I found it a bit overpowering -- dare I say offensive. The other day when I was riding, I kept smelling something. The scent was following me. The scent was annoying me. I finally figured out that it was my sunscreen's "light and clean" scent (that, my friends, is up to interpretation). Now contrast this to the fact on more than one occasion I have run short of time and had to just "throw on some clothes and deodorant" after a 1.5 to 1.75 hour trainer ride and take my daughters to gymnastics. My scent, which I am positive is offensive to others, is unperceivable to me.

Now that Mr. Spie is home safe and sound, I have someone to discuss these important issues with. Once these are solved I am sure that the economy will turn around, our deficit will immediately decrease, the auto industry and banking industry will be saved, and it will be the end of global warming.

Well, probably not, but at least I will not have to all of my training indoors and that is one pressing problem solved in my book.

Solitary and Confinement

On Friday, I began serving my sentence.

EIGHT days of Solitary and Confinement.

Mr. Spie left late Thursday night for a boy’s weekend piggy backed on a week long business trip.

He has left me to battle the natives...

ALL ALONE.

(and let me tell you the native are very restless.)

Nothing is lonelier than your significant other leaving for an extended walk-a-bout.

Now, I know what you are thinking…

Spie, you are not alone. You have four children. There is always someone there.

Yes, yes. It is true. I always have someone here, but there is a huge difference between conversation with an almost three year old and a conversation with an adult.

Recent conversations with my children are interwoven with a lack of logic which sometimes makes me question my sanity. For example, Captain Destruction decided that his shirt had “poop” on it and he had to change his whole outfit. (It didn’t, but don’t try to tell him anything different). He brought me his SWIM trunks (he may be a little swimwear obsessed) to help him put on. I was doing the dishes so I shook the soap off of my hands and put his SWIMSUIT on. He then chastised me for getting his SWIMSUIT wet and had to promptly remove it and find other clothes.

Would this happen with a grown up? Aside from the fact that I hope I never have to have a conversation about poop on a shirt and help said grown-up get their swimsuit on, an adult knows that swimsuits are made to be WET!

Conversation is further limited by content. What I want, nay what I NEED, to talk about and “get off my chest” is not very appropriate for my children as I spend the better part of my parenting trying to get my children to respect themselves and respect others. We talk about how we do not name call or tease. We respect other’s differences and appreciate others for what they are and their potential.

This past week I had to run to Wal-Mart to buy some supplies for Mr. Spie’s week long furlough. I loaded Captain Destruction into the basket part of the cart and was tootle-ing along merrily on my way. Until the big, bad Wal-Mart employee accosted me and said “We prefer that children sit down in the cart so they don’t topple over.” I politely replied that I understood, that CD was sitting, he just stood up, I would appreciate if he was sitting too, and oh, by the way, he is also three. Then, I turned and walked away.

(side note: This is not the first time nor the first store in which I have been approached by the cart police. I need to make a custom shirt that I will wear when I shop anywhere that there is a cart involved that states “Please do not approach me as I will not sue you if my child falls out of the cart. I take full responsibility for my child and his actions.” This will be the complement to my running shirt that states “Go ahead and hit me. I have the right of way and I need some more money for my race entry fees”)

Now, when I related that story to Mr. Spie it was not the above succinct, cleaned up version. It was peppered with mildly strong language and other disparaging things said about all the other people (the person who parks in the middle of the grocery store aisle, the person who coached the girl swimming in the lane next to me who told her to “do the same thing, but don’t let her(meaning me) beat you”, the driver that tried to run me off the road, the person who reacts inappropriately to my race results….. you know, the whole world) that added to my annoyance that day, week, month, etc. Now, it kind of would be counterproductive for me to admonish my kids for speaking ill of others and then turn around and spew the ugliness that oozes from me when I am annoyed.

So, essentially anything that I NEED to talk about is out. Other things I talk about, making my intervals, getting a new training pr, my minute per mile pace, the grocery list, the bills I paid, what I washed that was not clothes in the washer, the things that CD broke, frankly don’t interest my kids. I am sure that they don’t interest Mr. Spie, but he plays the "pretend to listen to Spie and feign interest" game pretty convincingly. So, while Mr. Spie is away, I am in communication lock down. Left alone to solitarily (is that even a word? –now I am starting to talk like my kids), subsequently internally, deal with my emotions and frustrations.

My chosen emotional outlet? Exercise…

Which leads to the second sentence which accompanies his stay-away-cation…

CONFINEMENT

There are no other responsible adults currently in the house (sometimes my being "responsible" is questioned at least by Wal-Mart employees), multiplied by the fact that all of my friends work outside of the home, squared by the fact that my husband and I are transplants (i.e. no relatives in the area) in the lovely state of Wisconsin, all adds up to….

Doing all of my training indoors this week.

Let that sink in.

I live in Wisconsin. We finally are experiencing this season called spring. I have spent the better part of 5 months riding the trainer and running on the treadmill. I have watched every show on HULU and have every lyric on my MP3 player memorized. I can tell you all the ”witty” dialog word for word on my Chris Carmichael training CDs. If blindfolded and dropped in my basement, I can identify the exact spot on the wall that I stare at on the treadmill by texture alone.

These past weeks, I have relished my outdoor runs and rides with the joy of a child eating a popsicle on a hot summer day and now I am in lock-down once again. It is like winter has returned, but not so much with the promise of presents and delicious baked goods.

Once I found out that Mr. Spie was leaving, negotiations were made. As I will not be able to swim while he is away because the Y that houses the pool has no childcare, I have been granted permission to swim during his brief home layover on Monday (he arrives sometime Monday morning and has to leave again early that afternoon) and I negotiated the hiring of a babysitter for two of my bike rides, one being a three hour ride.

I attempted a three hour ride during the winter on the trainer and it was not pretty. There was too many distractions, too much foul language on the movies I deemed entertaining enough to hold my interest for that length time, and too many demands made from the troops – who could not be bothered to ask the general (Mr. Spie) that was seated in the same room with them.

The thought of completing a three hour trainer ride without backup is pure insanity. Before the three hours were up there would be an uprising of gargantuan proportions which would be fueled by Lucky Charms and Toon Disney. The littles would be battling it out cage style to see who is the supreme screamer. The olders would be placing side bets and not breaking it up.

Not.Good.

As I add the hash marks to the aerobars marking down my sentence, I sincerely hope that the parole board takes pity on me and grants me an early pardon.

However, since that is not very likely, please send me a cake.

Not one with a file.

But one like this:

And enclose a responsible adult, capable of handling 4 children ages 9 and under.

Better yet, call my local Wal-Mart and see if "Captain Cart" is available.

Pictures of you, pictures of me

Hung up on the wall for the world to see…

This week I have been hung up on images, preconceptions, and self perception.

Here’s a test:

Imagine in your mind’s eye: A stay at home mom with four kids ages 9 to 3 years old.

Now picture: A woman who volunteers for a Fine Arts organization, a parochial school, and teaches Sunday school.

What does female triathlete who is training upwards of 10 hours a week for races look like?

Did you picture the same person for every situation? Or did your preconceived notions change the appearance of the woman?

As you may have guessed, all of these statements apply to me.

Here are statements that I often hear:

Wow, you don’t look anything like what I expected.
You have four??? kids?
Triathlons. Wow, you do that?

You have run marathons? really?

These comments and preconceptions sometimes make me wonder, what am I supposed to look like?

All of this self reflection started with my ½ marathon and comments in the school parking lot this week.

During the ½ marathon, I felt fluid, like a gazelle. I did not feel stressed or strained. My pacing was spot on. I felt like I could run some more (not the whole 26.2, but I was not crawling towards the finish). In my mind, my appearance reflected my ease in the run. The race photos, however, presented a different story. I never like looking at myself in pictures anyway and race photos are notoriously harsh. I look strained and in pain, panting towards the finish looking for a place in the soft grass where I can collapse and rest for a while.

My mental picture did not match my outward appearance.

Thursday, in the school parking lot as I was picking up the olders, I was talking to some of the other moms. Captain Destruction started making his "notice me- pay attention to me" overtures so I opened the door to reveal a very dirty and disheveled CD. Dressed in shorts, shirt, dirt, and rain boots, he was all smiles. One of the moms commented that I was a "good mom" because I just let kids be kids.

I mulled over that comment as I drove home wondering if the fact that she knew me changed her picture of me.

At a different time, another parent joked that I just shattered her perfect "Martha Stewart" mom image of me the day that CD showed up wearing rain boots (yes, he really likes those rain boots) shorts, and a winter coat.

I contrasted these opinions against the unknown opinions of fellow parents at my daughter's gymnastics class. I have no relationship with any of those parents. In fact, I have only talked to one and have a strange history with another. (He is an ob/gyn and delivered my third child not a real comfortable be "social" situation) On Wednesday, gymnastic day, Captain Destruction’s outfit was a “learn to swim” long leg swimsuit complete with attached floaties. We got quite a few looks and comments from kids and parents.

What do you think those parents were thinking?

My guess is that they were not all thinking what a great parent I was. They probably ranged from “She’s got no control of that child” to “Wow, she must be at her wits end, poor woman” to “I guess that the laundry is not done yet”.

Other's mental assessments plus the outward appearance of my children, may have or may not have matched the real picture.

With each successive child, I have gotten better at not worrying about outside appearances and have limited my fretting about other's opinions, but it has not been an easy road to travel. It took me nine years to not be mortified at my children's outfits. I can assure you that with my first child, there would have been a wardrobe change if the swimsuit presented itself as the "outfit for the day". Nowadays, non matching shoes, creatively colorful outfits, and nonsensical combinations (i.e. Cheese often wears leggings, skirt, long sleeve shirt, short sleeve shirt, and a sweater. CD puts on everything backwards) are the norm.

Having children has upgraded my camera: not an external camera, but my internal camera. Each time I look at my children, whether they are covered in dirt or clean from the tub, dressed in crazy combinations or ready for church, all I see are beautiful individuals with limitless potential, who are full of joy and wonder. Their images are back lit by a glow of love, pride, and hope.

Not only does this camera take the best pictures, it also has amazing clarity and focus when I am out with the kids. It gives me the confidence to to chuckle at the comments and looks as the opinions of strangers lose their value and I become more secure and confident in what kind of parent I am.

Their cameras are NOT taking the pictures of my children that are hanging on my mental wall.

Now, the trick is to learn how to use that same camera when I take a pictures of me.

Woe is me

Woefully negligent... That is what I have been. It has been a long time since I updated my blog. Frankly, I have no excuse other than I do not think my life has been that noteworthy.

Snoozeville.

Now that we are in May, I feel compelled to update my life and get back on track.

In order to catch everyone up, here are random bits about life in the past two plus weeks.

1. My physical therapist and I are currently on a one month "break". It wasn't that our relationship wasn't working, but I needed to work on myself before any more progress can be made in our relationship. I have fallen into a out of sight out of mind mentality. All of benefits from the relationship have eroded away as I have fallen into my bad habits once again.

(We took a break so I could work on strengthening my back in order to help the realignment of my shoulders. I have not been the best at regularly doing my exercises and as a consequence my shoulder is aching more lately causing me to do strange things in my positioning and posturing to protect myself from the hurt, reeling me backwards in the progress that I have made so far)

2. A slumber party for six 9 (ish) year old boys is NOT a good idea.

(Never count on people not showing up or staying because then they will stay. The breaking point was at 1:17 a.m. when I heard one hoodlum say to another "Let's shine our flashlight in his face and see if he is really asleep" I lost it and went into complete M2 (mean mommy) mode. I slept in the doorway of the room chastising any noise, keeping vigil until all of the boys were finally asleep. At 2 a.m., I crawled back to my own bed and awaited the 5:38 alarm to swim and complete a 10 mile run prior to my 1/2 marathon.)

3. 10 mile runs are not recommended after only 3 hours of sleep.

(It was supposed to be a tempo run. After the rain kept starting and stopping, the wind almost blew me to Kansas, and the fatigue set in from lack of sleep, I decided to just run it, and not worry about pace. Ironically, my pace improved after I decided not to worry about it... and the rain never started again.)

4. I had a fantastic 1/2 marathon run. Not only did I meet my super-secret time goal, (admit it we all have those) I beat my faux- rivals!

(There are two local women who complete and win (overall or age group) all of the triathlons they enter. I have been in awe of the athleticism for years and thought I would never ever be in their league. As I was over analyzing my race results, I noticed that I placed higher in the 1/2 than those women. In my head I know they were probably told to treat it like a training run and not race or go all out, but I still am going to stick those feathers in my cap and call it macaroni)

5. My first reaction on my time and pace upon the completion of my race was "Wow, I sure am a slacker when it comes to my weekly workouts!"

(During my runs, I congratulate myself on maintaining paces that are :40 sec. per mile slower than my race pace thinking that I am really going fast. During my last indoor triathlon, I pulled out a hundred average that was more like a recent 75 interval. I totally need to train with others.)

6. Even better than my stellar race was meeting my blogger friend M, face to face, as well as her very devoted fiance, and cheer her on to her 1/2 marathon PR. Then.....THEN...THEN if the day could not ROCK even more, they came over with some other of my friends that ran the 1/2 and we continued the work-out concentrating on our abs!

(We stretched out our bellies with too much food and gave ourselves side stitches from the frivolity of the conversation. Maybe we were a bit loopy from all of the endorphins, but who is to say really?)

7. All bets have been off this past week, okay month, on eating.

(The peak of bad eating was the 8 chocolate chip cookie lunch with the brownie batter chaser. Quite tasty. Not very GI friendly)

8. The best way to cap off a month of bad eating is throwing an after party after your 1/2 marathon.

(Can you say s'mores brownies, french onion dip, and the balance of chocolate chip cookies? -Carb-o- licious!)

9. A short brick is a llllllloooooonnnnnnnggggggggg brick the day after a 1/2 marathon.

(The bike ride was my second outdoor ride since October. What is this wind thing and how can I turn it off?)

10. I need to remember to use sunscreen, tasty bug count for the year is one, and I sooo need sunglasses or Lasik.

As school winds down and my training ramps up, I am sure that I will have more amusing anecdotes to share and my posts will become more regular --or I could just be writing what I think everyone wants to hear and I once again I will become a huge slacker...

I guess we all will have to wait and see.

I need some hocus pocus and some focus

Our house has been hexed and I need some magic to turn our luck around.

A week ago, we learned that our credit card number had been stolen and used to make several fraudulent Internet purchases. I was alerted to this problem when my credit card was denied trying to make a purchase at WalMart. (It was a first for me, I am sure that it was the millionth time for them. I was more mystified than embarrassed...)

The credit card thief went on a little shopping spree for us which was very thoughtful. He/she purchased Internet/cable/phone service for us (from the same provider we already have), set us up with some system cleansing vitamins (a subscription nonetheless), and proceeded to set up their own account at an online gaming service. I spent several hours convincing customer service reps that these were not my purchases, nor my husband's, nor anyone else in the house (although I could not speak for the cat and although Captain Destruction is very capable of this kind of deviousness, he does not have access to our credit cards for just this reason!)

If things could not get any better, our septic system overflowed and failed. Just a little gross if you ask me. Apparently, it is not a good idea to go 6+ years with 6+ people in the house without having it pumped.

Next, our washer suffered a debilitating, but fortunately not fatal injury. A new part needs to be ordered because the band aid fix will only last so long.

We are now at 3+ nails in the front passenger tire of the my vehicle. Two have been removed. One is still in there just waiting to cause catastrophic failure.

Today, I spent 50 minutes wait time on hold (after being told it would only be 10 minutes) to fix a problem with I-Pass and our alleged failure to pay three tolls in the state of Illinois, one from 2007. Apparently, they were not able to cross reference our license plate to our I-Pass account as the customer service representative that I gave our new WI licence plate number to transposed the numbers upon entering them.

Oh, I almost forgot, this morning Captain Destruction and the Cheese flipped my oldest son's birthday cake onto the kitchen floor today, top side down. This was after Captain Destruction had licked a large portion of the frosting off.

My training has not been spot on either.

Due to some scheduling conflicts and a scheduled 4+ hour power outage while our electricity was being "upgraded", I had to run at night this past Wednesday. I left about 7:30 p.m. for my 45 minute run. I run in my neighborhood which is rather secluded, not much drive through traffic. I wore a head lamp so I would be visible and as always, I ran on the white line facing traffic. I was almost done as it became nightfall. Upon my return home, I had a run in with two vehicles.

The first was a truck flashing his brights several times as he approached me. I was unsure what the purpose of this action was. Did he want me to dive into the drainage ditch? There is little to no shoulder in my neighborhood and we have no sidewalks. There was no traffic on the other side of the road, so crossing over into the other lane of traffic to safely pass me was no problem. His actions only served to blind me, making it more likely for me to "stumble" into the path of his vehicle.

Then to add the cherry to the inconsiderate sundae I was just served, the car that followed behind the truck, lined up on me and gunned it, shifting over to the other lane just in the nick of time. I returned home furious, exclaiming that jerks like those two drivers was the reason why I run at 5 in the morning. Those types of drivers are still hungover in bed at that hour!

In addition to vehicular chicken, my training has been compromised by my physical therapy. I had my fourth session on Tuesday, and it brought tears to my eyes. I know that it has been beneficial, but this week my shoulder has revolted. The story I have been telling myself is that the muscles are finally realizing that they have been slacking and now that I have been trying to get them to fulfill their responsibilities they are throwing temper tantrums like my children. Whatever the reason really is, on Wednesday I could not even do my physical therapy exercises let alone swim as my shoulder ached and felt as if it was swollen. I have not swam since Monday and I am actually going to try it on Saturday and see what happens.

The shoulder has not only impacted my swimming, but has made my running slightly uncomfortable and it was very difficult to get comfortable on my long trainer ride.

Despite not making all of my workouts, I have been eating like I am training 24/7. I have broken almost every nutrition goal I had set for the past couple months. I know that my workout time and calorie expenditure is increasing, but my goodness, I have no self control. I can eat a balanced dinner and be hungry 45 minutes later and eat two serving of chocolate ice cream with toppings. I can eat cereal with milk at any time and anything sweet (with the exception of candy -- have not broken that one yet!) is consumed in the matter of seconds.

I really need to focus on eating smaller portions more often and include some more "healthy fat" in my diet. When I look at what I eat, I tend to gravitate to low fat/fat free foods which perhaps explains some of my incurable hunger. Today is not a fat free day, however, as it is my oldest son's faux-birthday* and I ate the balance of the frosting that remained after I re-frosted the cake and we went out to Red Robin for dinner.

I hope by clearing my mind, I will also be clearing the air and the black cloud of ugliness that is residing in our house will be gone! I hope that it does not visit you next!

*Faux-birthday: my son's actual birthday is on Easter this year. We are going down to my in-laws for Easter and a birthday celebration, but not only his. We will be celebrating his 9th and the birthdays of two of his cousins, one who is turning 3 and one who is turning one. Guess who will be getting most of the attention? Fairly sure that three cakes are not going to be made and the nine year old will not be the center of attention. I felt bad that 1) his birthday fell on Easter 2)he had to share his actual birthday with two others and 3)he never really has fun at Grandma's because he is the only boy other than Captain Destruction and we all know that Captain Destruction is always busy with his superhero duties. In order to make my son's birthday special we decide that today would be his faux-birthday complete with presents and cake.

the real meaning of PT

I guess in the back of my head I always knew this, but this week's PT session really cemented the true definition of PT -- Pain and Torture.

Is it really a bad sign when your Physical Therapist is kneading (oops I mean massaging ) your arm trying and hits a rock hard muscles and says "Oh, that's not good"?

Let me tell you, no amount of Edy's Loaded Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup ice cream (5 servings) could melt away the pain from Tuesday's session.

My next session is on Thursday. Good thing I go grocery shopping on Monday. I'm almost out of my pain medication.

I guess I kneaded this....

This past Tuesday I had my first appointment with my Physical Therapist for my “swimmers slouch”. After a brief conversation as to the reasons for my visit, problems/pain that I have been experiencing, the PT asked me to do several simple tasks such as look up at the ceiling and bend backwards. At the conclusion of the tasks he stated, “Yeah, you are going to need several visits”.

My therapy then officially started with the reasons why this happened. He suggested that in addition to swimming competitively, a sure fire way to get "swimmers slouch", I may have a mild case of scoliosis, having a curvier front to back S than I should. The therapist outlined what the first course of treatment will be. Then treatment began, I laid on my front on the table and had my back/shoulders kneaded as if it were bread dough for a very long time and then I flipped and had my pectoral muscles and some muscles that are in my armpit (very technical I know. Thank goodness I was wearing deodorant that day.) kneaded for a very long time as well. There were two occasions in which tears were in my eyes, but all in all I think I sucked it up fairly well.

After the kneading was done, the physical therapist gave me some daily exercises. I do bridges to activate my muscles. Next I drape myself over a rolled towel with arms overhead. I stretch on the wall and then I do the most difficult and humbling exercise of all. I do a “wall sit” and make a snow angel on the wall. The purpose of the exercise is to re-teach my shoulder/back muscles how they should move. I am fatigued after 6-8 movements and achy after my set of 5. It is quite humbling to be beat up by a wall angle on the same day that I rode 25 miles and ran 7. After the kneading and the humbling, I had electrodes attached to my weak back and shoulder muscles and they were stimulated for 15 minutes. When I left, I felt like I had swam 10, 000, 000, 000, 000 meters. The drive home was a bit of challenge!

I have appointments weekly now and I faithfully do my daily exercises as I know that it will eventually get better and I will most likely reap some benefits in my training from finally being properly positioned. Even if it just not being in pain, I’ll take it!

On the training front, I have a ½ marathon coming up the first weekend in May and I am super excited about it. I have several friends running in it and several friends coming to cheer me on. I have put my husband up to giving a protein/carbo loading party afterward. Hopefully, it will be warm enough to grill. I have not yet decided on my goal for the race. I have never done a ½ , so any result will be a PR. I am leaning towards going all out as my next race is not until the middle of June (plenty of time to recover) and an all out result will give me some ideas as to what to reasonably expect for my two HIMs.

Whatever my decision, I know that I will have fun because I will be running with, cheered for, and surrounded by family and friends! (and we give killer after parties!)

putting me through my paces

Throughout my running career (running for fitness, running for cross training, running for training for marathons and triathlons) I have had, at best, two running speeds – normal pace and fast. Although the training plans for my marathons/triathlons indicated different running paces, I generally ignored them or half- heartedly attempted to adhere to them within a run always ending up at either my normal pace or doing sprints.

Last year, I was sidelined most of the season due to a foot injury. As a result of the injury, I have become very conscientious about running: not doing too much interval training, utilizing recovery running, and listening to my foot and taking a day off when necessary. This caution has extended itself into actually following the assigned paces in my training plan.

The training plan for my HIM has several types of runs including foundation runs, tempo runs, long runs, tempo runs with fartleks, and tempo runs with striders. In an attempt to find appropriate minute per mile paces for these runs, I hit the Internet. One site (McMillan Running) lists paces for recovery jogs, long runs, recovery runs, steady state runs, tempo runs, tempo intervals, speed workouts, and sprint workouts. Much to my dismay, only two of the terms, tempo run and long run, overlap. In search of the elusive foundation run pace, I visit the Runner’s World website and find minute per mile paces for easy runs, tempo runs, VO2 max runs, speed workouts, long runs, and suggested 800 speeds. Once again there is no foundation run.

Although, I had no pace for the foundation run determined yet, I did have ranges for my long run earlier in the week. Committed to follow the correct pacing, I set the treadmill for the correct mph for my 10 mile long run and ran really, really slow for a really, really long time. As my time on my treadmill lengthened, I began to wonder what other things I would be able to do while doing treadmill long runs. Could I fold laundry? Can I catch up on blogs? Can I write my blog? Could I read magazines? Correct homework? I was having a hard time at keeping my mind on my run as I was not mentally taxed by my pace or intervals. I wasn’t wishing time to go by quicker because I was physically taxed. I was wishing time would go by quicker because I was bored. I could have kept at that pace for much longer than my assigned mileage. (Yes, I know that is the point of that pace).

Because my brain was able to do other things, I decided to rename some types of runs, so I can get a better handle on the correct paces for me.

Run Paces as defined by a rather bored Spie

Long Run – the multitasking run. Go ahead, fold laundry. Read. Correct Homework. You’ll be fine. This is almost like walking.

Steady State Run – This is more like it. It is what running used to be.

Tempo Runs – I guess I can handle this pace as long as I don’t have to do too many miles.

Speed Workouts – I think that I will throw up if this goes on much longer.

Sprint Workouts – I just threw up.

Now, that I have these paces firmly embedded in my mind, I know that I will do a better job of trying to stay on pace.... except during the elusive foundation run*.

(*Foundation run defined in my plan as a continuous run at moderate aerobic intensity. Because I have devoted far too much time to researching the appropriate pace for this run, I am renaming it Steady State run and calling it a day.)

bad math

PLUS

IS BAD NEWS.

In my house, quiet is never good. Vaseline is very difficult to remove from bedding, furniture, carpet, and clothing.

Now for an overdue blog update.

My triathlon clinic was really interesting. During the swim portion, they analyzed my stroke and gave me some pointers to enable me to have a stronger swim. I needed to get my hand more under my torso during pull portion. After every one's analysis, we did a lot of drills - a lot of one armed drills.

The run portion was the most informative. The first part of the run clinic I met with a cross country coach who instructed us on fluid stretching, plyometrics (Have you every seen a bunch of grown adults skip backwards? It is quite funny!), and static stretching. He also had a ton of FUN(?) therapy stretching tools such as foam rollers, the STICK, a BOB, and many straps and bands.

The second part of the run portion was a gate analysis and specific drills to practice to improve the speed and efficiency of your run. This is the part of the workshop that was startling to me. We were to run on the treadmill and wait for Lauren (pro-triathlete and coach) to come analyze us. I was last and was observed after 35 minutes of running on the treadmill. She apologize for getting to me so late, but frankly, I would prefer to be watched when I am tired. That is when my bad habits always show up. I was given a few pointers such as to try to run quieter on the treadmill and to turn my left thumb up. Then she asks me to get off the treadmill so she can talk to me about something not directly related to running, but she really needs to bring it up. Being the people pleaser that I am, my first thought was "My gosh, what did I do?". She then indicates that she is a trained physical therapist and is very concerned about my posture.

I used to competitively swim in college and as a result I have the swimmers slouch (a muscular imbalance in which my pectoral muscles are so tight that they never release and cannot fire properly and my back muscles are stretched to the max, hardly touching and communicating). I was aware of my problem prior to her bringing it up and had talked to my husband about PT or massage or something as I always have shoulder pain (Always as in every day. Exercise or no exercise). What she proceeded to tell me next really alarmed me. She indicated that if I do not take the time to correct my problem soon, it will result in bone loss and I will eventually become one of those caved in old ladies that look like their chest could be used as a basket. This prophecy was enough for me to take action and now I am investigating physical therapy.

The last portion of the clinic was a two hour spin clinic which was a compilation of suggested drills, cadence work, and question and answer session while exercising.

All in all, including posture prophecy, the workshop was very informative. I did achieve most of my goals (Goals 1-3 were met), but I did not make a triathlon training friend. Unfortunately, the other workshops that were to be offered are cancelled as Lauren is training for IM Brazil and will be quite busy in the upcoming months. I am a bit disappointed as I was most interested in the nutrition workshop.

Finally, I need to make my March challenges public in order for me to have more accountability. Now that I no longer snack off my children's plates and eat dry cereal during the day,I am throwing down the gauntlet and attempting not to snack from the ingredients of dinner while I am preparing. This will as difficult as the children's plate snacking as I broke my resolution yesterday, but I have tasted (or not tasted) success once before and I know I can persevere!

Web of lies

This past week, my youngest daughter, Cheese, and Captain Destruction (with her encouragement) created a web of yarn that ensnared four chairs, the trampoline (doesn't everyone have a trampoline in their living room?), two tables, a toy fire truck, my bike trainer, stretched over three rooms, and used up two skeins of yarn (over 200 yards of yarn). I initially had thought that Captain Destruction did this on his own as he is very capable and very devious. I promptly scolded him, informed him about his lack of treat after dinner, and had him sit on the stairs for his time out. Then, as I was unwinding and wondering how many calories an hour rage burned, I started to notice the workmanship of the web. The delicate placement of the yarn on the items and tight areas in which the yarn was woven demonstrated fine motor skills that were far beyond the fine motor skills of a two year old. My wheels started turning and calories from rage started a burnin' when I realized what actually had happened...

Cheese made the web and let Captain Destruction take the fall for it!

I promptly called Cheese and she confessed to the crime. Her punishment was to spend the rest of the afternoon in her room up until dinner and was to go bed promptly after dinner. For Cheese, time away from me is a fate worst than death!!!

Other than my little spiders, things around her have fallen into a loud routine. Training is going well, only a few more weeks of making it up as a go along until I actually start a plan. Things will get a little shaken up this weekend however as signed up for a triathlon training clinic. The clinic is focusing on HIM and IM distances. Sunday's session is the second session. I missed the first one about choosing/creating a training plan.

Sunday's focus is "Technique - The First Building Block"

Here is the itinerary:

15 min - Introduction, explanation of importance of technique work
75 min - Swim - freestyle technique work in the pool
15 min - Changing time
60 min - Running form drills and discussion of good running form, short run
15 min - Changing time, set up bikes
120 min - Bike workout including technique drills

I am super excited about the information that I am going to gain from the clinic, but scared to death to go as I will not know a soul there. I am going to focus on my goals for the clinic and try to keep my fears and feeling at bay (i.e. mild social anxiety disorder).

Goals:

1. Gain valuable information on how to make me faster and/or more efficient in the swim, bike, run.

2. Get a good work out.

3. Receive semi-individualized instruction from a local professional triathlete and coach

4. Meet people (make (a) friend(s)?) that share same interest and possibly find a training partner or two (three hour bike rides are pretty lonely on your own).

There are two more sessions in the series that I hope to go to as well --Building a Strong Athlete -with the focus on strength training (ba-bing!! one of my weaknesses that I want to address) and Nutrition and Hydration Planning (something I totally need as I have raced most of my sprint distances and marathons on empty or fruit snacks!)

I will attempt to report after my session. I know it will only be positives and all of my goals will have been met.

I hope that your weekend will be a success as well.

There's a foul on the plate..

As I become more embroiled in the “multi sport” lifestyle, I find myself gravitating towards certain things.

I search for leaner sources of protein such as ground turkey. I am buying more organic items. I have contemplated buying bison and almond butter. I eat more fruits and vegetables, and have the desire to do yoga in order to build core strength, promote flexibility, and prevent injury. I pour over my sport specific magazines and intently read various training books to see how they are different than the plans I am using. I am informally researching coaches and planning my seasons years out as I serious consider attempting an Ironman the year my youngest is in kindergarten.

I also avoid things.

I don’t drink soda. I try to avoid caffeine. I don’t eat chips, candy. I rarely partake in fried foods. I avoid "scary" food such as hot dogs, chicken nuggets, patties, fast food. I don’t stay up late.

I did not know all of the ramifications of such decisions. Sure, I am gaining strength and speed in training. I am able to rebound quicker from hard workouts. Yes, I know that I am not packing on the pounds during the hibernation months. But, my recent discovery is too much….even for me.

It all started going awry a few weeks ago when I made chocolate chip cookies for my in-laws visit. My FIL likes all courses of the meal, including dessert. Chocolate chip cookies were quick and easy and the dough is good (only in moderation – see a previous post). Not able to resist a cookie (or 10), I had a few. The evening the in laws arrived we went out to dinner to a buffet. My FIL loves a buffet. I ate conservatively: salad, baked potato with a little bit of chili, and some soft serve ice cream. All these I considered to be safe foods. Throughout the night, my pipes were cleaned out. Okay, I reasoned, it must be the chili.

The next day, I had more cookies (let’s be honest, my son and I finished off the cookies) and homemade lasagna for dinner. That night, the pipe cleaning occurred again. I rationalized that my problems were due to left over affects from the chili.

Fast forward a week. Mr. Spie was invited to a chili cook-off party on Saturday. Friday, being a good guest, I made S'mores brownies to bring. Brownie batter is good too and the brownies were delicious. I will just leave it at that. What do you think happened overnight again? Yup.. Roto Rooter came a knocking. This time I could not possibly blame the chili.

Now, I am aghast (or a gassed). Have I turned my body against baked goods? Could it be that I can no longer enjoy (within moderation) chocolate chip cookies, brownies, cake, apple crisp, pancakes???? (Yes, pancakes caused distress the other night.)

The scientific part of me wants to bake a few things (chocolate chip cookies and brownies) and test for distress. The rational part of me is saying that there must be some other explanation. Your body just doesn't decide to reject baked goods. The nutritionist/triathlete part of me is saying "WooHoo! Another temptation gone!"

What to do, what to do? Has anybody else ever experienced this? What did you do?

PSA

Concerned about all members of the blogging community, I have decided to issue the following public service announcements.



PSA #1
Remember as a child when you watched a sitcom and someone put too much soap in the clothes washing machine and soap suds spilled out everywhere and you wondered if that really happened?

IT REALLY DOES.

PSA #2
If your two year old finds you and tells you that he "Put soap in the washing machine for you. Welcome!"

BE ALARMED. VERY ALARMED.

Cereal killer

I have officially come up with my February lifestyle change challenge. I had tentatively planned to focus on strengthening my core three times a week, but this past week have brought to a head a much bigger problem of mine.

"Hello. My name is Spie and I am addicted to dry cereal. "

I snack on cereal morning, noon, and night. I guess that I am fortunate that I have somewhat healthy cereals in the house. I currently have been eating boxes of Frosted Mini Wheats like they are going out of style. The Golden Grahams were golden, golden, gone. I have banned Cinnamon Toast Crunch and this past month I realized that I cannot buy granola. (A half cup of granola packs as much calories as one whole cup of mini wheats -- who can eat just 1/2 cup of cereal? Certainly not me.)

So, in the month of February, be it resolved that I, Spie, will NOT snack on dry cereal during the day...light hours.... OH, all right. I, Spie, will not snack on dry cereal. Period.

In other news, I skipped my swim this morning. I participated in an indoor triathlon on Sunday and have been feeling tight and tired ever since. I decided that I have not been doing a good job listening to my body and so I slept in and tried some yoga this morning to loosen up some of the muscles. I felt there is no sense in pushing myself to the point of injury and fatigue during the month of January when my first event is several months away.

However, doing yoga made me realize that I am inflexible.

Right now, Mr. Spie is screaming out somewhere "I could have told you that".

I had difficulty sitting on the floor with my feet out in front of me. As I watched the lady in the On-Demand exercise video easily contort her body in half from a torturous pose called Plow Pose, I recognized that I need to work on my flexibility or as the intensity of my training increases the likelyhood of injury will increase as well. Hopefully, I will get a yoga dvd, mat, and some blocks (yes, I am that inflexible) for Valentines Day as I sent a blantent hint to Mr. Spie in the form of an internet link.

Perhaps the month of February will have to have two challenges.

Good thing that the month is only 28 days long.

Lessons Learned

I have learned several things today that I would like to share with you.

1. I don't know if you can be too rich, I know that you can be too thin. I also can ATTEST that you can eat TOO MUCH chocolate chip cookie dough.... YUCK.

2. I get "geeked" up about weird things.

The prospect of possibly finding goggles that don't raccoon, the perfect water bottle, and this race. I am super excited to be asked to be part of a team and to run!

3. Participating in said race will be a test. -- Not a physical/stamina test, a mental test.

To be clear it's a try to get over being a "parenting control freak" test.

It will be the first time that I am away from my children (overnight)with the exception of giving birth to another child. (To give you an idea of how tight I have my apron tied, I begged and was released to go home 24 hours after the birth of my last child -- no 2 day hospital stay for me, no siree!!) There is no one that can parent my children as well as me. I am not saying that I am flawless, I think that I am marginal at best, but I KNOW that I LOVE them BETTER and MORE than anyone else can.

I am coping with the idea of the race fine now (we may need to revisit closer to the actual date) because I know that my husband will be there to parent -- My second in command, schooled in the Spie method of parenting, familiar enough with the house rules to know when they are broken, capable of feeding them the nutrition that they are accustomed to, etc.... He's not me, a fair substitute at best (joking!!!-maybe..), but am I still somewhat comfortable with it. After this test, we will see if I can cut the apron strings enough to have a grandparent parent for a weekend. (Right now the answer is still a resounding NO!)

4. I have little or no motivation to do my tasks that need to be done today. The in-laws will be here on Saturday for a weekend visit and my house is in shambles... and I am sitting here blogging, because I really do not want to clean. There is clean and then there is in-law clean and I cannot managed to rev myself up to tackle that task yet.

5. Finally, coaching/lessons may actually work...

I complained, maybe publicly --definitely to Mr. Spie, that I did not gain much from my recent swim class. The skills that were taught were beneficial, but they were small changes from my previous stroke. Nonetheless, being the academic pleaser that I am, even after my class was over, I continued to key in on and practice some of the tips that I thought would be the most beneficial. Today, at the end of my swim workout, I had planned to swim a 200 negative split. I decided to time it to check progress. I swam it at a comfortable pace, increasing speed on the last 25 (this was my negative split -- I was tired and the first time in the pool all week after my daughter's flu ravaged the entire family, including me) and whaddaya know??? I came in 3 seconds faster than my previous best, not sprinting/racing, or lets be honest really trying... WHO KNEW?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

I know that I haven't updated for a while. I am sure that it is a grave disappointment to my 1 reader. However, I have a few moments now, so I am going to do a brief update. Basically I can categorize my thoughts today into three areas...

GOOD:
1. Today is my daughter's 7th birthday. Yea!

2. I talked myself into completing my 1.5 hour continuous run.

3. We are half-way through January. Only 3.5 more months of winter until Spring! (I live in WI and use a realistic seasonal calendar)

4. I made it 5 days thus far without snacking off my children's plates(see previous post). This is a huge accomplishment when you consider that last night my two year old left uneaten sirloin steak on his plate. (mmmm-steak)

BAD:
1. Today we woke up to -13 with a windchill of -30.

2. Because of the windchill, school was cancelled (back when I went to school that NEVER happened)... All of the urchins are home.

3. The birthday girl threw up this morning and promptly told me this is the WORST BIRTHDAY EVER!

4. I tend to agree with her because my plan was to shop for her presents while she was school, so as of right now, she has no birthday presents from her siblings or parents except for funderwear (fun underwear), but what kind of present is that?

UGLY:
1. She didn't make it to the bathroom.

2. It is currently -7 and feels like -26 -- enough said.

3. Tomorrow doesn't look any better. At 6 a.m. it is predicted to be
-8 and feel like -26. I am scheduled to get up and swim at the pool at 5 a.m and the kids may be home again.

4. I have an appointment to get my brows waxed on Saturday. I have never, ever, had this done. I am terrified that I will come out either looking like a scared clown or that this decision will cost me month after month due to upkeep. I think that I was possessed when I made the appointment.

I hope that your day is filled with more GOOD than BAD and UGLY and if you live somewhere warmer than 30 degrees, please wish some of that toasty weather my way!

If it takes 21 days to make a habit.....

how many days does it take to break a habit?

These past few months, inspired by some blogs I read, I have given myself some 30 day challenges. Each month is a challenge that promotes a healthier lifestyle. I planned to carry over each challenge indefinitely each month.

In October, I gave up candy and chips. -- (check)

In November, I began to eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day in addition to continuing October's goal.-- (check)

In December, I gave myself a break and decided to just maintain October's and November's goal. (mostly check -- I missed one day of 5 fruits/veggies getting only 3 and I succumbed on two different occasions to peanut butter balls and truffles)

In January, I have given myself the goal of not snacking food off my children's plates.

I broke that January first at 10 a.m. when I was cutting Captain Destruction's waffles. The next day I broke it again when I snacked off his plate at dinner. Again the next day, and the next day. It is now January 7th and I have still not made one day without snacking off my child's plate!

What is wrong with me? Why can't I keep my hands off my children's food?

(I would like to note that I am not stealing the food out of their mouths. With the exception of the waffle incident, I "sample" after it is apparent that the food no longer interests them and I am not a "you must clean your plate" parent)

Perhaps I am acting out unconsciously because there are starving children in 3rd world countries that could be eating that food.

Perhaps, I am being frugal because I do all the shopping and I know how much that meal cost and throwing away food is like throwing away money.

Perhaps, I am saving a trip to the kitchen for a second helping because it is sitting right there on my child's plate, leaving food for my older children to take in their school lunches the next day saving me the "I don't know what to pack in my lunch." drama.

Perhaps, I just have no self control....

What, that can't be me?! I have self control. I drink water not soda or coffee. I don't eat chips or candy. I eat at least 5 fruits or vegetables each day (usually in their natural state). I exercise 6 days a week, usually at 5 a.m. I follow my workout plans. I don't kick puppies. I like old people. I follow Meg's rules for society -- I don't cut in line and I don't steal Christmas trees.

I HAVE SELF CONTROL...

Well..... considering that outburst coupled with my last post,

Perhaps, I don't.

Confession.... Actually, I know that I don't. I buy the little lunch bags of chips because then I will not eat them. I will not open a new bag of chips. I don't buy cookies -- (notice that I have not given up "baked goods" yet -- just keeping my options open) An open package of cookies is like a $20 bill in the middle of the sidewalk. You snatch that bugger up and pocket it before anyone notices. I have excellent covert mid-day cookie snacking techniques.

I know that I just need to get a couple of days under my belt of non-child-plate-snacking and I will be on the road to recovery. Unfortunately, there is no 7 step program nor patch that I can use. It is all on me.

Who knew that this would be the hardest challenge yet?

Wanted...

WANTED

Baklava

Buckeyes (Peanut Butter Balls)

These two desserts have committed serious crimes against proper nutrition. If you see them, please do not approach. They are armed and dangerous with empty calories and the lure of deliciousness. Once you have interacted with them you will be under their power, unable to make rational and appropriate fueling decisions. If you see them, please report it to me and I will digest (I mean arrest) them immediately!


Hope your holiday celebrations were as "full-filling" as mine.

Here's to much success, many adventures, and a myriad of joy in the new year!

Merry Chaos-mas

I love Christmas. The giving of gifts especially to the kids. I love their excitement about the day and enthusiasm about every present they get. This year should be good because Santa was really listening!

The house is still in chaos from the remodel. The stove, microwave, and dishwasher are still in the living room. We do have the tree up although it is quite naked. This does make it a better fort. I have yet to unearth the stockings, but they eventually will make it up!

We are looking forward to one set of grandparents joining us for a low key Christmas (I serve pizza, salad, and cookies. Christmas for me is about family and not spending time slaving in the kitchen!). Mr. Spie's brother may join us as well. Then on Friday we take off to spend the weekend Christmasing with the other set of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Mr. Spie and I are hoping to get a date night (free babysitting) and connect with our long time friends who will be visiting the area as well. I am hoping to be able to run outside as it will not be dark, below zero, and covered in 17+ inches of snow! (That will be a present to me!)

Wishing all of you a restful holiday, a Merry Christmas, and a blessed New Year.

You think you've got a package...

Mortification.



Every parent has experienced it and every parent pays it back when their child is a teenager.



I have had many mortification moments. Here are some of my most memorable ones:



We were on vacation in Branson, MO with my two oldest children. At the time, they were 3 and 1. During the middle of the night the fire alarm kept going off. The resort sent a security guard to assess the problem. My son (the three year old) looked at the security guard and said quite loudly to his father. "Dad, that is a big, fat, black man." Embarrassed, we ignored the comment. He repeated the same offense during a trip to a restaurant as he described the waitress, who was within earshot, as really fat. (She got a really fat tip for that meal.) To my son, those words were no less offensive than describing a cheese cracker as orange and square. BIG, FAT, and BLACK were descriptors. Nothing more. Unfortunately, as we get older, words are connected to feelings.



My oldest son is not the only one who has given me a "mortification moment". My oldest daughter, once when we were shopping, upon seeing a person in a wheelchair, asked quite loudly what was wrong with that person's legs. I quietly explained that their legs didn't work and it could happen for a variety of reasons. We talked about abilities/disabilities at length, turning the "mortification moment" into a "teaching moment".



I am not the only one that has experienced mortification. My friend recently had her children at the pediatrician for their "Well Child" check. At the check up the doctor always states the same questions year to year. "Does any one in the house smoke? Do you always wear a helmet when you ride a bike or scooter?... Do you have any firearms in the house?" I am not sure about the origin of the last question. I attribute it to the fact that we live in Wisconsin and as you may or may not know deer hunting is quite popular here. My friend answered all of the questions appropriately. "No, no one smokes. Yes, they always wear their helmets. No, we do not have any firearms in the house." Then, her 8 year old daughter called her out. "Mom, what about the BB gun?" Busted and embarrassed, she sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten about her husband's firearm purchase.



On Wednesday, I was mortified once again. This time it was my youngest, Captain Destruction. I was upstairs when the doorbell rang. My son beat me to the door, opening it for the Fed Ex delivery man. As I rush down the stairs, CD is standing in front of the storm door (which is only glass and screen) in his BIRTHDAY SUIT. As I pushed CD out of view, I opened the door and really did not know what to say other than sorry. My jaw was hanging open. I was completely speechless. I collected my package, CD and his package, and quickly shut the door.



Note to Self: I eventually will be able to pay him back... and it will be a doozie.