Trust

I have trust issues. Always have I suppose. It would be impossible and unimportant to put my finger on why. I'm kind of a "so what" kind of gal when it comes to shit that has happened in your past. Move on. Everyone is dealing with something. Get help if you need it, but don't use it as an excuse.

Anyway, sometimes it's hard being me. I feel a bit insane as I talk myself into believing the best, rather than the worst, which is my knee jerk reaction. Self talk, non-stop, all day. Hoping that what I think is a breach of trust, is just me being crazy. Feeling crazy ain't so hot though.

I once heard, by accident, a preacher on TV. He put things in a way that I had never thought of before. He was talking about faith. Not necessarily religious faith, but belief in anything really. He said that we don't know what is going to happen. You can either doubt, and believe the worst, or trust and have faith, and believe the best. It's a 50/50 shot either way, so why automatically go with the doubt? I love it. Assume the best.

I think a long time ago, I told myself to expect the worst, so it won't hurt so bad when it is actually, the worst. But that way it seems to a double whammy. Sucks when you don't know and sucks when you do. I won't say ignorance is bliss, but trust is.

I will always be a little bit crazy, a little bit neurotic, it's who I am, but trying so hard to just have faith.

Runner Girl

My birthday is this week. My 40th. My husband and I have never been big on extravagant gifts and in fact go many holidays without exchanging. We never seem to have extra money to spend on each other and would rather put those funds elsewhere, but we also don't need materials to know the love is there. The sentiment is there, with or without the gift. For this year however, my husband gave me my gift. It couldn't have been more fitting for my life right now. I am a runner. I feel like an impostor saying that since I'm not fast or overly dedicated. But the fact that I've run a marathon, run 8 half marathons and fit running into my life, every week makes me one. I love the way it makes me feel. I feel strong and fit and like I can do anything. Lately though, running has taken a back seat and I've felt badly about it in lots of ways, but kept rationalizing it.

I am in the middle of planning for a double mastectomy and worrying about the recovery after. Part of me wanted to stop running altogether, at least until the surgery because I figured what's the point? I'm just going to lose anything I've worked to achieve when that day comes. I worry about how long it will be before I can run again and worry about how long it will take me to get it back. I worry I won't have the motivation or the drive.

Then my husband gives me my present. Two stickers for my car. One says 26.2. I wonder if having run only one marathon qualifies me to display this, but my husband assures me it does. The other says Runner Girl. I love it. I needed this to remind me how important this is in my life and not to give up on it. It will motivate me to stay with it. No matter what setbacks I face. Just finished a 6 mile run without a thought of giving up or slowing down.

I am a Runner Girl

My everything

My family is my everything. It sounds like such a cliche, but so universally true. I love my funny, handsome, compassionate husband, who just seems to get me. He gets me and still loves me and isn't afraid to call me out on my small insanities.

My son, my first born is amazing. He's 8 and pushes me away, I think more because he likes to tease me, than that he really doesn't want the love. He knows I will chase him down and tackle him. I am filled with pride at who he is turning out to be... kind, smart, silly, all of that.

Today however is about my daughter. My perfect angelic daughter. I've always said that I didn't know I wanted a girl until I had one. I love that she NEEDS me, and I mean NEEDS me. When she was little, she and I would sleep on the couch together almost every night. She on my chest, me looking out the window at the stars and sleeping. So soundly, so sweetly. I felt that she could hear my heartbeat and that somehow calmed her. It was magical. I have never seen someone so free with her love. So unafraid and uncensored with the "I love you's" So deliberate and honest with her hugs, hand holds, and kisses. As I was laying in bed with her tonight, as I always do, she grabbed my head, pulled it to her neck and said "this is my best friend... ever" She is 3. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt the love. Physically felt it. Sometimes I wonder why I was blessed with such an angel. She is making me a better person. Someone who isn't afraid to say I love you. Someone who isn't afraid to give. I had no idea it could be like this. I count my blessings every day and could not imagine a better family for me. My girl. One piece of perfection.

Seems like old times...

I am home today with Dylan. Just me and him and boy is it nice. It has been so long since there has been a day at home, just me and him. It was just us for almost 5 years before Casey came along. We were buddies. I was more diligent with my mom career then, playing lots of creative games with my boy. Balls in the hall, where we'd gather all the balls we had and roll them back and forth down the hall. He was 2. Or the same game with all the cars and trucks. I made sure there was time outside, reading time, learning, little or no television, lots of music, set nap times and healthy meals. Corey worked long hours, and we didn't really have any friends or playgroups, so we made the most of our time together. The days went on forever. In a good way. Lots of time to figure out the best use of our day. Park or pool? Walk or errands? Museum or visit with family? Now that there are 2 of them, and has been that way for over 3 years, we're a lot more fly by the seat of your pants. No rules about what to do when, no set schedules, no boundaries. Well, sometimes it feels that way, but of course there are boundaries. It is hectic, good, but hectic.

Today, Dylan is home sick, but well enough to get off of the couch. So far today, we watched Biggest Loser (something my former mom self would never have allowed), played dinosaurs, went to Wendy's for a frosty and had lunch outside. It's been great and reminds me of years ago, just me and him. I miss it, terribly. I hope he is enjoying it too. This is good stuff.

sick kid

So, last night as Dylan began coughing, I did my usual "Oh, you're ok", with a desperate attempt to make him not sick truthfully because I didn't want to deal with it. Didn't want to deal with a sick kid at home when the other has a playdate, and ballet. I was looking forward to a few hours to catch up while Casey was at her friend's house. As it became more and more apparent that Dylan was sick, for real, I started to remember my job in the first place. To be a mom. I am thankful he's not sick on a day I need to work, but even if he were, my job is to be with him. I get so caught up sometimes in doing all the other things that need to be done, that I forget about being a mom, you know, a good one. I check off lists mentally while fixing dinner or putting the kids to bed when I should just slow down and be with them. I will be there for him today. I will not worry about what needs to get done. I will take care of him the best I can. That is my number one priority, always, and will try not to forget it again.

Waiting

Waiting. for the biopsy results. I feel my life is on pause until the phone rings. Up until the procedure, and really up until today, I have been really positive. Well, not positive really, but I just didn't give it a second thought, didn't care. If you want to call that positive, then do, but maybe it's denial. Either way, couldn't make myself dress for work, so here I am, waiting. It's not even excruciating, that would mean I felt something. This is like a dull numb, like I said with life on pause. I know I will be extremely upset if I waste today. A day with no kids. I should either do something productive, or something fun, but here I sit. Doing nothing. ring-phone- ring. Sad thing is that it may even be tomorrow when I get the call. How am I going to make it through today? OK, off to be productive for a while, then maybe a walk. gotta get going.

Cooking

I don't cook. I can't cook. Is there a difference? Maybe I don't cook because I can't, or can't because I don't. In any case, it's a vicious little cycle. I try to cook, every now and then because, well, because my family is hungry and isn't that in the job description of mom? I made a real effort 2 nights ago. I made shrimp with a sauce and rice and lima beans (from the can, heated in the microwave). I grilled the shrimp, watched the rice carefully so it wouldn't burn and then of course had to throw some chicken nuggets in the oven and a grilled cheese on the stove for my picky eaters. I spent an hour running from the grill to the kitchen trying to pull it all together. I spent another hour washing, let's see 1,2,3,4 pots and pans, loading dishes and putting away used ingredients. It was good, but I just don't get it. Back to fish sticks last night. Much better :)