Writers Block, Scattered Thoughts and a Powerful Realization -My Messy Beautiful

I had such high hopes for this little project.

When Glennon Doyle Melton, of one of my favorite websites, Momastery, asks for blog post submissions talking about what basically amounts to the good, the bad and the ugly about this life, parenting, marriage, etc, to celebrate and coincide with the paperback re-release of her book, (this GREAT book that was a bit of a life changer for me,) I figure this is right up my alley.

Glennon is all about truth telling:  I am a truth teller!  I can do this!  Even though most people would call what I do "obnoxious over sharing" instead, but whatever.

Glennon is all about finding the strength to accomplish hard things:   I love a challenge and am constantly frequently attempting to do things that are difficult.  One can never be sure if I do this because I am stubborn and determined or if, basically, I am just an idiot.  Also, in a lot of cases, the hard things are just a part of my life.  I didn't choose them, they chose me.  So there.  That'll show me.

The one thing I know for sure about this life is right around the time you THINK you're starting to figure it out, something will happen and show you otherwise.

Like for example, when you're supposed to write something about doing hard things, but for whatever reason, right when it's due, it turns out writing has suddenly become a hard thing for you....

Glennon is also all about LOVE and it can't be an accident that one of my most favorite songs of all time is The Beatles, "All You Need is Love."

Seriously.

I love her writing.  I love her book.  I love HER.

I can do this.

And if this turns out terribly, hopefully she'll be too busy loving everyone to hate me for it.

For whatever reason, right now, when it just so happens these blog submissions are due, I've got nothing.

Nada!

My brain is kind of empty and I can't think of a thing to write.

My brain actually does this thing with extremes.  It is, in fact, either all GO! GO! GO! where I have 50 billion thoughts a minute and I talk too much and too fast and I'm all over everything and nothing can beat me down and even if I feel kind of stressed or sad or whatever I can pour out these somewhat marvelous pieces of writing that, in the very least, I find to be kind of good.  And even if they aren't very good I get satisfaction simply from the writing of them.

Or

My brain goes kind of dormant and I just have nothing.

Dear sweet Lord Baby Jesus that makes me sound VERY bi-polar there doesn't it?

Crap.

This picture is about 500 years old.  But the instructions say we need a picture and this one sums me up nicely.  And I am having a bad hair day today and can't try to take a new one.  Also, this kind of thing used to get me in trouble a lot back in college and grad school so hopefully I don't get in trouble again now....

But it's like this:  So my kiddos are being kiddos and saying funny things and doing ridiculous things, and beating the living snot right out of one another as they fight for 23 hours and 57 minutes of their every single day right now.  But I just kind of feel like ignoring it.  I take don't take pictures or post stuff on Facebook or this blog making fun of them lovingly or try to remember all these moments with a laugh.  They just pass by and I think about how I kind of wish this sore throat and cough I have would go away and while I'm at it a nap would be really nice this afternoon.

Also, if you're wondering, those other 3 minutes of the day are when my son and my older daughter suddenly decide that they do actually love each other after all.  It's usually always when I am about to leave him at preschool and need to drag her out of there before we get locked inside the parking lot gate and for whatever reason the baby is suddenly crying.  THEN they love each other and they NEED to hug and kiss each other sweetly goodbye.  And it's so cute and nice except goodness you two have been at each others' throats for days why do you need to choose RIGHT now to like each other when we neeeeeeed tooooooo goooooooo?!?!?



Anyway, so I've been sitting here (off and on) for three days trying to figure out what to right for my girl Glennon and all the while that nothing has been coming I've been thinking about all the times before that I've gotten a wild hair someplace and poured my heart and soul out into a post for this blog that would probably be just PERFECT for this project.  Maybe I should just phone it in then now and link back to a few of those.....

BUT while contemplating doing only just that, I also started thinking about how I found Glennon and why I love her and also how it really was a bit of a Godsend that I found her, so maybe I can just write a little bit about that instead.

I was sure that the first time I heard of Glennon was several years ago when the "Carpe Kairos" post was going viral and somebody I know shared it on Facebook. (if you're not familiar, I HIGHLY recommend clicking over and reading it.)  I found it to be brilliant and refreshing and frankly quite eye opening.  The whole notion that other people were out there willingly admitting and writing about the actually REALITIES of life (instead of just the fluff) and parenting (for better or worse) was so refreshing.

I mean, why can't people just be real and admit it when stuff is hard?

People have been telling me I complain too much for most of my life.  And, regardless of whether or not that's true, the way I see it, is it's not that I'm complaining, I'm just acknowledging the reality of sucky situations.

Where's the harm in that?

Except, now I'm not quite sure this really was when I became one of Glennon's "Monkees." According to the date, that post would have been published in the middle of the worst year of my life (April 2011-April 2012, when my husband deployed for over a year to the Middle East.)  And I know, for certain, that Glennon was "with" me for most of that time, so now I don't know for sure.

So, I can't honestly remember when I found her and she became one of my imaginary best friends forever, but I know that I did and that she was there, so to speak, for me, through her writing and her honesty when I needed it.

And you know what else is so weird?  Looking back on that year: When I was scared and lonely and I felt out of control and A.J. was the worst colicky baby in history and Peter was so thoroughly terribly 2 and I felt tired and helpless and DESPERATE almost ALL the time....

It all seems kind of silly.

Like, if somebody hadn't known me then, I honestly, can't even begin to explain it now.

All that HARDNESS has just kind of faded away.  I remember it, because, honestly, I kind of tend to remember almost everything, but I can't even really understand it anymore.

(Side note: HAHA!  Check me out!  Did you click over on that last link?  Did you see what I titled that post?  I was channeling Glennon that day a lot I guess.)

(Also, I kind of feel weird because I keep using her name.  It's making me feel stalker-y and I really don't want it to seem like that.  But this post is for HER blog, so, um, whatever.)

I feel like I'm getting off my point now, except I'm kind of not sure where I was going with this, and therefore whether or not I even had one to begin with.  A point, I mean.  Because that was kind of a run on sentence wasn't it?  And that last one was a fragment.

Wouldn't my English teacher's just die right about now?

OH!

Right.  Now I remember where I was going with this....

I found Momastery, and really connected with it's message because of all the truth telling.  I fully believe in 100% disclosure and honesty at all times.  Telling even the teensiest little white lies or like, I don't know talking about Santa Claus with little kiddos kind of makes my stomach hurt.  So the fact that there was this other blog writer out there being honest too was just so completely important and refreshing for me.

There's this thing about Glennon.  Since she's always being so honest, she talks to much about herself and why she has decided to stop hiding and stop lying (so-to-speak) and just be real.  She says she thinks she was just "born a little broken."  She says she tends to "feel stuff too much" or at least, it seems like more than most people.  She she says she struggles with her weight and her body image and was bulimic.  She says she is a recovering alcoholic and it seems she has tried self-medicating in lots of ways through addictive tendencies.

Okay, so, I was never bulimic or an alcoholic.  But, all the rest of that is very very true for me.  So maybe G dealt with her stuff kind of sadly and differently than I did.  And then she went and started a revolutionary blog and online community and wrote a book and stuff.  So good for her.

BUT

And I can't be 100% sure about this, because she only writes about her family a little bit (with the exception of her Lobster/Sister,) but her family and parents sound like they were/are kind of amazing.

This is where the light bulb kind of goes on for me....

Glennon Doyle Melton, this writer lady, inspiration, person that I look up to kind of a lot...

She had/has all the same "problems" and "issues" as me, EVEN THOUGH she probably had great parents.

Um.

Wow oh!

Now, again, forgive me if you're new here and trying to play catch up.  But in a nutshell..... a lot of parts of my childhood basically sucked.  And basically, it has always been the general consensus around the varying parts of, well, my own mind, that this is because my parents kind of sucked.  It's a long story, that I've told many times in various ways before, but it doesn't really matter now other than to say that they had a fairly rocky marriage which eventually fell apart and in the process a lot of bad stuff happened.  And then after that I guess I was just always (considered to be) a bit messed up and I guess everybody (myself included) always assumed that my problems were all because of my parents.

However...

For the past several years I was reading Glennon's words over on Momastery and there was this little thought that kept itching at the back of my brain.  I could never really figure out what it was.  It was like, constantly there but I couldn't ever figure it out.

It seems now like God was trying to tell me something but I wasn't listening right.

Or maybe I wasn't ready to hear.

Or maybe I needed to figure it out for myself.

A year ago, Carry On Warrior, Glennon's book came out.  And obviously I downloaded it on my kindle (which actually belongs to a friend of mine though she never asks for it back so I never remember to return it) and I read it right away and this thought kept itching in my brain some more.

Glennon talked about her troubles, her mistakes, her drama.  She just kept right on sounding so much like me.  We have so much in common, really.  But she also kept talking about her kind of amazing family.

I already said this, but I'm restating it now, in case you missed it.

Glennon had problems even though her parents were great.

OH EM GEE!

(I know, it is annoying when people type that out like that, but I'm kind of addicted to doing it anyway because heaven help me that's how I talk these days.)

So there's my realization, my life changing, soul curing, GOODNESS me, I can never completely forget the past because it shaped me and made me who I am today, but heaven help me I can forgive and move on with it ONCE AND FOR ALL epiphany:

My parents probably didn't have anything to do with "messing me up."

That's just the way I am.

Say goodbye to any 20 year old residual anger or blame.  The circumstances didn't and still don't matter, Jen.

You are who you are.  I am who am.

God made you this way on purpose.  God made ME this way on purpose

Some of us are just born "a little broken" emotionally.  Some of us just feel too much.  Some of us aren't capable of regulating our brains or our emotions like other people.

It's not their fault.

It's not even my fault.

It's okay.

It even helps me understand why I can still go a little brain dead and get kind of weird and depressed on days like today when the sun is shining and my hubby is here having come home from work a little early and life is actually kind of great.  

The world just NEEDS artists and writers and people whose emotions run wild.


Momastery and Glennon Doyle Melton taught me that.


So maybe I'm not as good a writer as she is.  Maybe my shabby little blog here will never get anywhere close to the number of readers that she has.  And that's okay.  I will still write in here about my crazy family when my synapses start firing again properly.  Because, the only person I really only ever write this for is me.

And I will still follow G's blog and read her book(s) and proudly call myself one of her Monkees because like I said, I kind of love her and she doesn't know it but she's one of my best friends.

 http://momastery.com/carry-on-warrior

Hard Things

When I was a little girl my parents frequently told me about what a sour child I was. To be blunt and perfectly honest, they said I was a bitch.  I can't remember exactly if they meant I was unhappy and mean as a baby, or a toddler or a preschooler, or even well into my school aged years or what.  It doesn't matter, right or wrong, whether their assessment of my over all personality was accurate, but as with many things in my childhood, the fact that I still remember this so clearly, shows that those insults (deserved or not) resonated within me and had a deep and lasting affect.

Also, can I just add that a little later in my childhood and teenage years, I just plain didn't like either of them very much.  So if that made me bitchy, well, so be it.

Anyway, the other night I was watching the Grammys.  At some point, Taylor Swift got up on stage, sat down at the piano and sang one of her ballads about getting her heart broken.  (Go figure, as aren't most of her songs about that?) Anyway, at one point in whatever song she was singing there was a line that went something like "and I remember, all too well."  I don't know why but that line resonated so strongly for me right then and I've been thinking about it kind of a lot ever since.

Perhaps I'd been spending too much time with Glennon over at Momastery.  She's always talking about how she supposes she was just born a little broken and a little too sensitive and how maybe for some reason she just feels things more than other people.  I identify with this so much.  That, and her perpetual need to speak the truth and not glaze over the hard and ugly parts of life.  So anyway, Taylor went on singing about her heart ache and how the problem was that she couldn't forget and a little light bulb went off in my head.

I remember everything too.

I mean, not everything, but way more than I should.

Maybe that's my problem.  Or is it one of my strengths?

Also, ever listen to the song Hurt?  It was originally by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails but then Johnny Cash recorded a cover of it shortly before he died and well, they are both... just... amazing.  Key lyrics for me are "I hurt myself today, just to see if I could feel" and also, "I remember everything."  

For the last 16 years or so Matt has been questioning some of the things I do when I get depressed or upset or start feeling desperate and frantic (over eating, piercings, tattoos, smoking, drinking, working out too much, confessing all my problems on the internet.... etc) and the only answer I can give him is that some times I just need to feel control over something, even if it's painful and potentially destructive.  Other times I get so overwhelmed I go sort of numb and I just want to feel anything at all again.

No, that's not probably normal, or healthy, but it happens.  So, that sums up that first line pretty well and why I identify with it.  Just, because.  Because sometimes, I just need to.

Also, the line about remembering everything.  Like I said.  I'm sure I don't remember everything.  That would be insane.  But, seriously, I remember so much.  SO much.  If I could only find a way to forget a great many of the ridiculous, hurtful, terrible, awful, things that happened in my life when I was younger... well... I'm sure I'd be a lot better off.

But I can't.

Maybe that's why I was, or am still, maybe, "sour."

I don't know.

But I was thinking about all of this the last few days as I fight the seemingly never-ending battle of daily life with my 3 year old daughter right now.  People who don't look backwards to their own childhood experiences for incite into raising their own kids confuse me.

So... A.J.  If I'm perfectly honest... PERFECTLY honest (and kind of terrible,) I'd admit that a lot of the time right now, I don't even like that child.  She is just so difficult.

And that right there ladies and gentlemen, is completely awful I know.

If she is anything like how I was when I was her age, well, it's  no wonder my parents called me a bitch.

I mean, I love A.J.  I absolutely do.  She's the daughter I always wanted and literally never thought I'd be lucky enough to have.  But also, she's SO difficult.  She's always been kind of difficult.  I mean, the poor girl was born screaming and didn't much stop for over 6 months.  I literally can not find pictures of her smiling much until she's nearly 9 months old.  I remember freaking out somewhere around when she was 4 or 5 months old because I couldn't remember ever hearing her laugh.  A.J. was just born unhappy.  I don't know why.  I really wish I did.  I'll maintain until the day I die that there was SOMETHING going on with her that made her so grumpy, but the truth is I probably never will know for sure what it was.  Maybe she just had colic.  Or maybe it was the reflux.  Or growing pains.  Or hunger.  Or, I don't know bad dreams because she certainly never slept well.  (She still doesn't.)

The only thing I know for sure is that the fact that she was unhappy wasn't her fault.  And I shouldn't hold it against her.  And now that she is 3 and it is just ridiculous most of the time again, I have to remind myself again not to hold it against her.  God made her strong willed and difficult on purpose.  I suppose He made her that way because he made her like me.  I could certainly say she is sour as well.

For the record, A.J. from about 9 months old until shortly before she turned 3 was absolutely amazing.  She was the cutest and the sweetest and the silliest little thing ever.  So I know there is hope for her.  We just have to get through the hard phases.

I am working really hard not to tell her how frustrated I am with her.  I am working really hard to love her through this difficult time even when she screams and hits and kicks and bites and scratches and throws things.  I am working hard to love her even though she makes it really tough some times.  Because, what if....

What if like me she remembers everything.

We're working on potty training again with her.  This is probably the 6th or 7th time we've made a real effort. If you're about to tell me to stop and wait until she's ready I am going to tell you to shut up.  Politely of course, but really, please, just shut up.  My daughter can hold her business for more than 12 hours.  Holding it is NOT the problem.  She has gone in the potty both ways before.  Going in the potty is not the problem. The problem, for whatever reason, is getting her to do it on purpose.

I know you can't force the issue.

But people, we need to be moving forward on this.

I don't expect her to be fully potty trained in under a week like her brother.  I don't.  But I do need to her to be moving forward.

Just let's make progress.  Is that too much too ask?

Can we just use the potty once today?

Please.

You've don't it before.

And tomorrow, if it took us the whole entire day to get you too put your pee in the bowl that one time... tomorrow, maybe can you do it a little bit quicker?

That's all I ask.  Just SOME progress.  Pretty pretty please.

I feel like we're moving backwards.  We have a big success and then she randomly freaks out and then we move backwards again.

Oh, also, I beg you, DO NOT try to give me advice on this.  Do not try to tell me all your amazing potty secrets and how well they worked with your amazing child.  I seriously might barf in your face if you do.  First of all, I've potty trained a child already.  I know how to do it.  Also, I've read basically, every theory on the matter that there is.  I've watched videos.  I've discussed it with doctors and teachers and friends and parents and relatives and basically, everyone I know short of the clergy.

If we don't make some progress soon I might be scheduling a sit down with our Priest any day now.

A.J. is just being that hard headed about it.  I know that everybody says their child is brilliant.  But A.J., she really is brilliant.  So brilliant in fact that she honestly thinks she is too smart for the potty.  She honestly thinks she can outwit us and win this war.

We've used charts and stickers and treats and books and videos and pull ups and underwear and naked and sit-there-til-you-go and let-us-know-if-you-need-to-go and come-with-me-when-I-go and 5 thousand different potties and potty seats and just.... ugh.

We've tried talking and begging and praying and yelling and good-cop-bad-cop and peer pressure too.

Really, she reacts with the same stubbornness every time.

And I already said this but DO NOT TELL ME SHE'S JUST NOT READY.

You don't know my kid.  A.J. is one of those that gets so set in her ways, she's not going to change unless you make her.  I could give multiple examples but, just... no  Trust me.

Also, she literally is getting too big to fit in diapers.

So we're just plugging away.  All I want is some forward progress

For every person who tells me not to worry, she'll do it on her own time and that nobody ever goes to kindergarten in diapers I hear of somebody else who secretly admits to me that when their child started kindergarten they still "kind of" needed diapers.

Also, forget night time.  Don't tell me all nonchalantly that your kid wasn't "fully" potty trained until they were actually like 8 "haha" when really what you mean is that they still needed a pull up at night because sometimes when they slept, they wet the bed.  Night time is a separate issue and totally beside the point.

But for the record, 90% of the time, A.J. wakes up and her pull up or diaper is still dry.  Because like I said, holding it and controlling it, is not her issue.

So anyway, last year around this time Peter was 3 1/2 and having a really rough time of it.  That poor boy was just constantly getting into trouble for something.  I was really really stressed out about it and I sort of thought he really might wind up getting kicked out of his school.  It's funny to think about that now actually as we did get through it and today he is screening for kindergarten.  But anyway, I remember asking my husband, quite honestly, if we were going to have to "break" Peter's spirit to get him to be able to behave at school and be successful in this world.  "Break him."  Like he's a horse or something.  The thought killed me.  I love my son's spirit and I always have.  He's bright and cheerful and goofy and loving.  But he's also extremely outgoing, he doesn't accept limits well and he can be very emotional.  Was I going to have to squash part of who he was in order to help him be successful?

I didn't.

He came around.

His teachers, for the record, deserve medals for the work they did with him.  "Spirited" is how they describe him.

Quite honestly, (as if I am ever anything else) the very fact that we got through last year (age 3) with Peter and everybody survived is the only reason I haven't totally given up on A.J. already.

And, she has actually, started to get better already.  About the 3 year old-ness.

But so anyway, the potty.

As we sit here and fight and plead and coach and she cries and yells and fights and pleads and tries to bargain with us, I keep telling myself it will be okay.  She needs to learn to use the potty and she won't remember this anyway.

But...

What if like me, she kind of does?

I sort of have this overwhelming desire to get some video recordings of her yelling at me about how she can't use the potty (even though she already did like 12 hours ago) and its too hard and she's too little and Mommy is mean and Mommy is ruining her life... etc.  Then maybe when she's graduating high school and heading off to her freshman year at like, well, let's be real, some Ivy league caliber but hippy dippy tree hugging liberal arts college like Berkeley or Brown (are either of those even Liberal Arts colleges?) I can show her the video and remind her that she CAN DO HARD THINGS.  And also laugh about how I didn't actually ruin her life when she was 3.

Then I remember that probably, because she's a lot like me, she's going to remember every minute of this potty training nightmare adventure.  And for the next 15 years until that day when she's heading off to college she's going to be holding this against me.

Also, I worry that someday A.J. is going to fall into the same destructive bad habits that I did (and sometimes still do) just to try to cope with.... everything.

Is she doing this already in her own little 3 year old way already?  Is this potty thing an example of that already?

The only thing I can say is that if this is the case, that's okay.  We will deal with it.  I love my daughter, just the way she is.  Stubborn and difficult and as hard as it may be, just to love her sometimes, that's okay.

She's okay.

And even as she hollers at me right now from the potty seat, we will get through this.  We will be okay.

Brought to you by the letter P...

...for Poop.

Yes.  I'm going there.

Baby poop specifically.

So calm down because compared to what the older two can do in that department these days, the baby poop is like, basically, kind of charming.

Anyway...

So when Peter was a baby he was a champ at clearing his body of waste.  The first clear sign of life from him after he was born was when he peed all over the doctors and nurses trying to get him to cry in the warmer.  And pretty much once he was bathed and cleaned and had nursed for the first time or two, he spent the rest of his newborn hospital stay making a mess of himself.  It was, actually, kind of insane.  I don't have the diaper and feeding log we kept those first few days anymore, but I do remember quite clearly that he had double digits worth of poopy diapers that first day of his life and he wasn't even born until just before one o'clock in the afternoon!

When we got him home, things really didn't slow down much.  He was definitely a baby who kept things moving.  And from all the wiping and changing him his poor little tushy was an absolute wreck for the first three months or so.  I'm sure part of this is because he was my first and I was hesitant to slather on too much diaper ointment at a time and I had't yet figured out that original formula Desitan is basically a thick paste that adheres to your baby's bottom like super glue never ever to be washed off again, while creamy Desitan is, lovely and creamy but also, mostly worthless.

The other thing was, with Peter, not only was a constantly changing diapers, but I was constantly changing his clothes.  And then I was constantly waging war on the stains left all over his clothes.  Yuck.  The table on my back porch was always covered with slightly yellow stained onsies and sleepers to dry in the sun.  And did you know the sun magically bleaches away a lot of those stains?  Yeah, neither did I.

But I sure do now!

But then came A.J.  And A.J. never ever pooped.  EVER.  She barely peed.  Even as a small infant, I could easily go the whole day in only one or two diapers with her.  It was weird.  I just kept feeding her, and sure, she spit up a lot, but there always seemed to be so very much more going into her than was coming out.

It was nuts.

Sure, she would eventually blow a gasket and then we had poop for miles, soaking through 57 layers of sleepers, and swaddling blankets and the clothes I was wearing and even the carpet.

But generally, she didn't poop much at all.  I think the longest she ever went was 10 days.

And I guess I always sort of figured that was why she cried so very completely totally absolutely much all the time.  Every Doctor on the planet might tell you a breast fed infant can't get constipated but they had never met my daughter.

Looking back on it now, I don't know which was preferable.  Sure, Peter was regular and barely ever cried but Holy HECK the diapers we went through and the loads upon loads of laundry.  Yea, A.J. cried and cried and cried and nobody slept very much, but... you know, it sure was less of a hassle in so far as the laundry.  I'm sure we saved a lot of money on diapers too.

(Don't worry, she is determined to stay in diapers indefinitely now, so for sure, we are getting it back in the diaper buying department with her now.)

So these days we have litle Lucy....

Hang on.  First let me say this:  Do you remember that old Bill Cosby stand up routine?  He's talking about his Father cursing him and threatening him when he was terrible and I believe the line goes something like this, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out. Then I'll make another one just like you!" As Peter and A.J. have gotten older and become more frequent deviant trouble makers limit testers, I have often joked to other adults around me with that exact line.  Except once I said it to Peter in front of Matt's mother and she was like, "Jen?  Seriously?  No you won't.  You have two kids and they are NOTHING alike." 

Hahah.  True, Terri.  Very true.

Peter and A.J. look a lot alike, sure, but their personalities could not possibly be more opposite.  In fact, basically the whole time I was pregnant with Lucy I wondered about where she would fall on the spectrum of their personalities.  Would she be like one or the other?  Or would she fall somewhere in the middle?  Heck, I mostly expected she'd define a while other extreme for us.

So she came out.  And she looks JUST like Peter, except, you know, in purple and pinks instead of blues and greens.  Actually, some of my friends say the 3 of them are basically triplets.  They all look SO much a like.  But to me, Lucy resembles baby Peter most of all.

And basically she is mellow like Peter too.  So far, she really tries not to find a reason to cry much. Usually.  She does have this little pouty lip thing she does when she is sad.  It is ridiculous actually.  How on Earth she has figured out how to be so completely pathetic already is beyond me.  My guess is A.J. pulled her aside on like day 3 and taught her all about how to be dramatic and play on our guilt.  Either that or girls just naturally have a flair for being more dramatic.  Perhaps it is actually both.

But finally, like Peter before her, Lucy is a pooper.  Oh my goodness the volumes of it she produces. Yesterday I think I had to change her clothes 4 times.  Honestly, after the 3rd change I put in a load of laundry and headed off to Target to pick up some more sleepers for her because I just can't keep doing loads of baby laundry every single day.

Lucky for her and my sanity, I have ALMOST gotten the poopy stain removal down to a science these days.

Unlucky for me she always tends to throw up too.  A.J. threw up a lot too, but not like this.  Lucy seems to have it coming out of both ends constantly.

But as I finish writing this now, it is just about 10:00 in the morning.  She's on her 3rd diaper of the morning and her second outfit already.  Oh and after that last one, I'm on my second shirt for the day too.

And so... not to be all the grass is always greener... but she's not quite 3 1/2 months old yet and I am already SO over changing her diaper every 4 minutes.  I sort of find myself wishing she was more like A.J.

Would the crying and screaming be easier for me to handle than all these diapers and all these wipes and all these poopy onsies?

I just don't know.

It's just a good thing she's cute, because... yeah, I have to go start another load of laundry.

On Unplugging

I keep seeing all these articles about unplugging and being more involved and attentive to your children.

And I think that is a great idea.  A lot of people are doing like a 30 day challenge.  And I think, what a great idea.

I'd even be willing to give up my phone for use as anything other than, well, phone calls....

Except,

Well,

I use the internet to pay all my bills and I really don't want to get evicted.  Or have the water and electricity and gas turned off while I am waiting to get get evicted.

I also just became the team Mom for Peter's tball team and email is the most efficient way of communicating with everyone.

and, also, let's just be realistic:

I firmly believe that it is important to give your kids attention.  I do.  Play with them.  Talk to them.  Listen to what they have to say so that they feel they can trust you and share things with you and that their voice matters.  Take time out of each day and make it just for each of them.

But I also think it is important to teach your children to play independently by themselves and to play well with others, even their siblings, and to solve their own problems/conflict by themselves without (or with only limited) adult intervention.  (ie... me occassionaly yelling helpful suggestiongs like " STOP HITTING EACH OTHER BEFORE SOMEBODY BLEEDS OR THAT TOY YOU ARE FIGHTING OVER IS GOING TO DISAPPEAR FOREVER!!!!")

Furthermore, have any of you ever actually spent an entire day with only a 2 1/2 year old and a 4 year old to talk to?  Both of mine take ALL THE TIME.  I guess that's a blessing.  But 90% of what they say makes absolutely no sense or is unrelated to whatever it is they said right before it. Or they're begging for something. Or tattling on one another.  Or, I don't know, if it's Peter, he's probably trying his first early attempts at fart jokes.

I'd love to listen to them carefully all day long, every day.  But good heavens, I think the little bit that's left of my brain might just turn to mush and leak right out of my ears.

Cut yourself some slack.
...........

It seems like this whole unplugging thing is just another trend that's swinging 'round the "internets."  A few months ago it was eating all natural.  Then it was being honest (and admitting that NOBODY can really afford to or find the time to feed their kids ALL natural, ALL the time, for example)  Now it is this whole unplugging thing.  This month alone 2 of my most favorite and most popular Bloggers have just "Quit" for the time being.

And that's great for them.  I can't imagine what my life would be like if I had thousands (or even hundreds) of followers and if I felt actual pressure to keep writing and keep posting (for anyone other than myself or the occasional Grandparent wanting pictures.)

I know that at least once every other week something goes on Facebook that makes me want to quit that whole thing altogether.  Just delete my account and be done with it forever.  But then again I have some really really great friends that I largely keep in touch with through Facebook these days because we live far a a part.  And I don't want to lose those friendships.

It's a good reminder for all of us.  We don't need to let our electronic devices rule our lives.  We don't need to look at our addictive little smart phones or iPads or even seemingly already out of date lab tops all the time.  Facebook statuses and tweets and buzzfeed articles and pictures of the Royal Baby or Kim Kardashian's post baby body really AREN'T more interesting than the stuff our kids are doing at T ball or in dance class or at the playground.

Maybe many of us do need to put the devices away and try harder to pay attention.

But we don't need to give them all up completely either.

One of Matt's favorite sayings is "Everything in Moderation... even moderation."

Make time for the internet and the emails and the blogs and the addictive Smurf game app that you may or may not willingling admit you've been playing for over 18 months now.

Find an hour or two in the morning while the kids enjoy their favorite show.  Or perhaps an hour or 2 while they nap.  Or at night after they go to bed.

There's no need to outright quit the internet.

Just maybe make a conscious decision to pace yourself.

At least that's what I have to say about it.

Thursday at Princess Dance Camp

Thursday morning, A.J. chose to dress as Belle for dance camp.  

Or as she insists on calling her "Bewwa." (Bella)  

I'm not going to lie, this one had me concerned because the dress was so long, and that was even after I did my best to pin up the straps a bit.  I put her dress over tights and a leotard and made her promise if she was tripping that she'd take the dress off while she danced.  She was still wearing it when I picked her up though, so I'm assuming she found a way to work around it.

The things girls will put up with to look pretty!

When I asked her to smile so I could get a picture of her all dressed up before class she first did the pose you see above, and then she started doing side to side stretches.  Weird. 

When they got started, the teachers had the mats out and were doing some stretches.  I think they were going to work on some basic tumbling/acrobatics afterward.  

I don't know why, but I find it hysterical that A.J. managed to seat herself right down front and center.  

That day, the special activity was a visit from some local pageant queens.  

AKA... Real live princesses!

NOW CALM DOWN, our girls are not going to go all Toddlers and Tiaras.  (At least not mine.)  These were high school girls that compete in the local pageants to earn money for college.  I guess in theory they could go on to compete at the state level for Miss California and then potentially Nationally for Miss America or the like.  But in any case these girls are in it for the scholarships.  

These girls, lovely young ladies, actually, are not and were not in those pageants for little kids where their parents spray tan them and make them wear false teeth and hairpieces and the Lord knows what else, like on TV.  Theses ladies came to visit with our girls because they were/are dancers themselves and they have used that talent to win their titles.  The talked to girls about poise and posture and taught them how to introduce themselves, wave and bow.  Then they read some stories.  

Of course, I wasn't there for any of that, so the only picture I have is from the studio director's phone.  

And also, hang on for another minute, because I need to say something else about the whole Princess thing. I am not going to lie, I was hugely opposed to it.  I don't ever remember being into dress up as a little girl, and honestly don't quite get it still when little girls (even my own) want to do it today.  I also, like many women, take issue with the whole "damsel in distress" aspect of most Princess tales.  The last thing I want my daughter to learn is that she needs a man to come rescue her in times of trouble.  Or that she needs to find true love to be happy.  (Even though in my case, that is sort of exactly what happened.  Just do me a favor and don't tell Matt I just said that because first of all it sounds really cheesy and second of all, I don't need it to go to his head.)  

BUT...

So far as I can tell, the part that A.J. likes about pretending to be a Princess has nothing to do with any of that.  She just likes the pretty clothes and pretty shoes and pretty crowns and jewelry and stuff.

AND WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT?!?!?!

I mean, I'm not trying to raise a complete and total material girl, but I happen to like pretty clothes and pretty shoes and pretty crowns and jewelry and stuff too.  So if she wants to go to dance and pretend to be a princess because she is just so very fashionable, well then fine.

And also, as much as those kiddie pageants terrify me, I kind of like the idea of these teenage pageant queens coming and showing our girls that if they really truly want to become princesses they CAN.  And it won't have anything to do with getting rescued or marrying Prince Charming.  But they can win a crown if they want one by taking pride in their appearances and being well educated and learning how to speak well and dance well, etc....

Sounds kind of nice to me.

In college I was in Women's Glee Club with a girl who came in (I believe) 2nd runner up in the Miss Ohio Pageant one year.  She was an amazing singer and an awesome person and if I think about it now, I would be LUCKY to have A.J. grow up to be even a little bit like her.

Anyway.  Enough of that tangeant.  The 3 Pageant Princess posed with the all the little dancer princesses for pictures.

And then they all did their "Toddler in Tiaras" pose.  Lol.

A.J. absolutely cracks me up with that face she's making.

There was also some general leading the princesses around and making them pose for more pictures.

Here's A.J. with the teenaged volunteer dance helper.  

And then for fun, A.J. just kept right on posing for me.  I blame the tap shoes.  Apparently they hadn't had time to change out of them when the guests arrived.  A.J. seems to think her little tap shoes are the BEST things ever.  They bring out her inner Diva or something.  

Life Lessons

It's been barely a week of "summer vacation" around here and I'm already feeling tired of it. My children do better with structure in their lives, even if, in the case of A.J., that mostly just means riding along to cart her older brother back and forth from preschool. I think it is the most frustrating to me because I have been trying really really hard to keep them busy. Even though I haven't been sleeping (hot, uncomfortable, humongous, getting kicked, anxious, etc) and it would be so much easier to just let them sit home and rot in front of the TV all summer, I've been trying to get them out of the house as much as possible. In the last 9 days we've been to the park, the library, the hospital play room (for my doctors appointments and glucose test,) the fair over the weekend and even to Sea World yesterday. I've scheduled play dates and swim dates and trips to fun places and am really doing my best to keep them fairly stimulated and busy all summer long.

Even though I'm humongous and tired and pregnant. I'm trying really hard. Really.

And through it all so far, it's a bit like Peter has unlearned how to behave (or in the very least how not to talk back) and A.J. has just decided she's going to scream her way through everything. And if that doesn't work, she'll try to run away from everywhere.

Ugh.

So the other night, as A.J. and Peter were absolutely waging a war against bed time... even though I knew in my heart they were both just tired and probably losing their minds a little.... I got to thinking:  I wish they would just learn.  

Oh why won't they just learn!?

In this particular moment when I got to thinking I specifically meant that they need to just learn to do what we ask them to do, WHEN we ask them.  If they'd just learn to do that there wouldn't be fighting and yelling. There wouldn't be count down warnings and spankings. There wouldn't be frustration and tears from the lot of us.

Trouble is, over-tired children don't learn. They get more and more out of control and stubborn and it's just.... terrible.

And even though the smart, logical part of my brain knows that the chaos is because everybody is tired, it doesn't make any of it any easier to get through.

So, like I said, that night, after a particularly BAD bedtime battle, I just laid awake all night thinking.

There are some lessons I've learned (or am still learning) that were (and often still are) so hard to learn. I wish my I could somehow make my kids come to these realizations now and save them the trouble and heartache I went through learning these things over the years as I grew up.

Of course it isn't that easy.

The process and experiences of learning the lessons is half the battle at least and if I'm still finding constant reminders of these things, then there is no hope for my kids are their young ages.

Anyway, I just hope that someday my kids do learn a few, very specific things.

And what are they?

1.  Pride is a very dangerous thing. It's one thing to take pride in your work or an accomplishment but this pride should never define you. There is always something better or cooler or more meaningful that could have been accomplished.

Like if Peter scored a goal at soccer, GOOD for him.  But if he get's boastful about it to the other children?
Just... No.

(That's just an example of course.  He never scored except in practice.)

Anyway, pride also makes us do stubborn things. People don't like to admit they are wrong. They don't like to submit and do what others tell them to do  But I've learned over and over in this life that being overly stubborn is a problem. If you mess up, just admit it and apologize. I know it SUCKS to say you're sorry bit just do it so everyone can move on. Try to make amends, but suck it up and take the blame or punishment if you deserve it. EVERYTHING will be simpler and better that way, in the end.

If you're a kid, and you're filthy, and your father asks you to get in the bath tub, just get in the tub.  TRUST ME, it's going to be way easier taking that dreaded bath than getting punished for stubbornly refusing and then fighting your way through the evening wash down you're GOING to get regardless of how much fight you put up.

Stubborn can be a good thing, if say, somebody tells you there's no way you're going to be able to accomplish something and you work hard stubbornly to prove them wrong.  But I already explained the dangers of taking too much pride in something you accomplish, even in the face of doubt or adversity so you just have to be careful when you stubbornly accomplish something to prove somebody wrong.

And stubborn can also lead us to lie to cover up our mistakes, and really, honestly, anyway you shake it, lying is just dumb.

Therefore:

2.  Honesty is always the best policy. Sometimes the truth hurts of course so one must be delicate in delivering the news. But lying? No. Don't do it. Just tell the truth. If you screwed up, admit it.  (See above.)  If you lie and try to hide it, the truth will always come up and the results will be way worse than if you'd been honest from the start.

Additionally, if you tell the truth, you don't have to remember all the lies you told to protect yourself. You don't have to deal with the guilt and confusion in your brain as you try to deal with your own dishonesty.

And if you make it a basic policy of your life to be straight up front and honest about everything, you'll find yourself doing the better thing, the right thing, and overwhelmingly larger amount of the time. Because you've faced the consequences of screwing up and admitting it enough that you find yourself actually choosing the right more often.

Just be real. Seriously.  Be honest.  Talk things out. Bottling stuff up or avoiding issues just makes everything worse.

Ugh, those last two are really confusing.  Just trying to explain them is confusing me.  I guess that's why these lessons are so hard to learn.

But luckily, there's also:

3.  God.  The fact that there is God out there is an overwhelmingly amazing, generous gift.  That God created us all and has plans for us all and listens to us all and then even gave us Jesus and his sacrifice to forgive us all our sinful shortcomings? That is just a gift. God can do and could have done anything, so why should He bother with us? But he does. He did. He continues to....

That is such a great gift, in fact, that sometimes it can become kind of hard to accept.

Children of mine... I hope you now believe fully because, well, you don't know any different. The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are a part of your reality because that's what we've taught you. But someday, you will question the reality of that truth and you will have to decide whether or not to accept it for yourself.  You will. Everyone does. It's part of life, and growing up and learning about the world around you and all the other things people out there believe in (or don't believe in.)

I hope, and I pray however, that when that time comes you will trust in the foundation we've given you.  Learn about the other things sure. Doubt your own beliefs as well.  But then read. And seek. Perhaps pray. And feel, in your heart, and in your soul. And I think you really will find the truth there. God is real.  He loves you.  The evidence is all around.

Kids... I could tell you stories.

And even though religion is hard and confusing, and people can get so caught up in judging one another for their sins and their shortcomings, you can just sort of sit back and take comfort in your knowledge of God.  He loves us and if we love him, and accept his love (through Jesus) he forgives us for all our sins and doubts and faults.

And better still, when you look around and think, OMG... seriously, everybody is sinning all around me.  Wait a second, what's a sin anymore anyway?  The Bible is so confusing!  There are so many interpretations!  What do I believe??

When you feel that way, I want you sit down, calmly and remember what I just said before:

He loves us and if we love him, and accept his love (through Jesus) he forgives us for all our sins and doubts and faults. No matter how much we've screwed up he forgives us.  And our friends?  Our neighbors?  Our enemies?  ANYBODY really.... he loves them and will forgive them too if they decide to love Him back.

It really is that simple.

4.  Actually, if my kids can get on top of just these 3 concepts I think they've got it made.  I mean, there are more of course, but if I overly simplified it WAY down, I think most everything can boil down to what I've said.

However- kids, please, while I'm giving advice: try to be Nice.  Be role models.  Be leaders.  Be good friends, to everyone.  Be kind. Be good listeners.  (Seriously on this one.  Try to listen to other more than you talk.  Your Mama is really bad at this one, but that is why she can tell you WHY it is so important to try to do.)  Be good people. Do the right thing.  Be somebody others want to be like.  Be somebody that makes your family, your friends, your teachers and your God proud.

Oh, and also...

Try not to judge others, because you really don't know what they've been through.  Seriously, no matter how  absurd or naughty or, WHATEVER they seem to be.  Instead, just love others they way God loves you and everyone else.




So, yeah.

If only.

IF these were easy, then perhaps they wouldn't be LIFE lessons after all.

Are there any BIG ONES you think I'm missing?

Or, heck, maybe the big lesson I'm missing here is for me.  Maybe I just need to learn and accept that raising children will be difficult and try not to stress out so much about it.

Yeah.  Right.

Never mind

I tried to post today but everything I wrote came out sounding mean.

I would never claim that I know better, but I just don't understand how so many people can act the way they do. 

A lot of things have been annoying, irritating or upsetting me lately.

And as much as I want to address my feelings, it occurs to be now that if people have so little regard for others' feelings that they are doing and saying these things which upset me, then probably, they'll have no interest in hearing me discuss these things now.  

What happened to compassion and empathy anyway?

I think these are 2 of my favorite feelings and it seems like nobody has these anymore.

Ooh, and honesty!

When did honesty go out of style?

Why do so many people choose to be snarky or judgemental or making really unnecessary jokes rather than just be real?

Blegh.

I'm not a huge fan of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" because I think it is more important to be honest.  But really, there is just no reason to be mean all the time either.

Who is anyone to tell anybody else they're doing it wrong anyway?

Five Complaints for Friday

1.  My internet sucks today.  It's really, reeeeeally slow for no reason at all and it keeps cutting in and out.
Obviously you can see how this would make accomplishing anything online difficult.

I'm already in a pretty terrible mood today and the sucky internet is just. not. helping.

2.  Peter has had a TERRIBLE week.  It's been awhile so I guess we're just due.  And, I mean, when he's been good, he's been good.  But when he gets tired or decides he doesn't want to do something I need him to do, all hell breaks loose.  Last night was particularly bad and after a long week full of these meltdown/fights, it basically took me over the edge to a place where I am not capable of dealing with his crap anymore or forgiving him in a timely manner.  Does that make me sound awful?  Probably.  But I read an article yesterday comparing children under five to, well...  terrorists and I LOVED it.  And, so, okay, maybe he's not doing it on purpose to torment me and probably he just hasn't figured out a better way to express himself or deal with his feelings or WHATEVER, but still.  He gets HORRIBLE.  Mean.  Violent.  And he does terrorize us.  The whole entire household becomes subject to his particular brand of awful and I lose my sh*t.

I know that today is a new day.  I should put yesterday behind me, forgive him and move on.  But today, I just can't, even though I desperately want today to be better.  I'm not a big enough of a person I guess to look at him and forget the awful things he did and the awful way things he said YET.  I need more time.

Also, after Matt went to work this morning I fell back into a deep sleep and was having this crazy dream.  Peter (having stayed up late terrorizing everyone) slept in a bit but then popped out of his bed just before 7:40 am which is when his little face appeared next to mine in my bed to wake me up.  And then, he didn't say "good morning mommy" or "please wake up mommy" or anything sweet like that.  He didn't tell me it was morning and that it was time to start our day or even that he was hungry and could I please make him some breakfast.

Nope.  He skipped all the pleasantries or reason and just got right up in my face and straight demanded that I find his school backpack for him so he could get the toy cars out that he believes he had left inside of it.  Never mind the fact that he owns approximately four million other toy cars and trucks and trains that he could have played with.  Never mind the fact that his school backpack has a home and was there, waiting for him by the front door where it (almost) always is and he could have very easily found it himself if he actually tried.  No.  I needed to get up immediately and find those missing toys for him RIGHT NOW.  Or else.

The outright and utter selfishness of this behavior just kills me.

Yes I know he is 3 1/2.  Yes I know little kids are often (usually?) self centered and selfish.  But this morning?  I just can't stand it.

I love that boy like nothing else.  Maybe that's why it hurts so bad.  I want so badly for him to know this and to feel like he can always count on me no matter what.  But when he continually behaves so completely horribly and selfishly?  Ugh.

3.  A.J., on the other hand, is either about to have a massive growth spurt or she's decided to become fat.  She simply will NOT stop eating.  And when she doesn't have anything to eat she is trying to get more (junk) food.  She's constantly in the fridge or cupboard demanding more food and if I dare to tell her NO she screams bloody murder.  Like this ear piercing, glass shattering, screech that might just be designed to shatter the glass of the candy jar to free up some more treats for her.  I've tried making her bigger meals.  I've tried locking the cupboards, etc... but she can't be dissuaded.  The kid wants to eat.  And eat and eat and eat.  I really do hope she's just growing a lot right now, because I don't think I have the energy to deal with childhood obesity.

4.  The pregnancy, right now seems to be going pretty well.  I'm getting big and round but not yet huge.  The vast majority of the weight seems to be in my tummy only which is good because I do not want to be one of the pregnant woman who gets swollen and/or fat all over.  The baby kicks me a lot.  A lot.  Makes me realize that it won't be long before this sweet baby will become it's own version of a little terrorist in my house just like it's older siblings before. I have a lot of pain in and around my tummy.  These are similar to those I had with the other pregnancies, they're just here a lot sooner and are already a lot worse.

Probably, if I wasn't so hormonal and bitter and I could think clearly this morning, I'd realize the dealing with the pregnancy on top of my little deviant son and his perpetually hungry sister is why I am so enable to forgive and forget and move on today.

My big girl panties don't seem to fit right now, so I couldn't put them on, grow up and get over it all today, even if I wanted to anyway.

5.  Also, and basically unrelated, being pregnant seems to be having a pretty healing affect on my psoriasis overall.  Most of the patches are cleared up except for the ones on my scalp and the ones on my fingertips.  However, the fingertips, right now are worse than I can ever remember before.  The outer layers of skin on a couple of my fingers have peeled off so many times now that all that is left is this raw pink, leathery layer that cracks and then bleeds.  It hurts like the dickens to have cracked fingertips and do, well, anything.  I'm typing this with my fingernails right now, to avoid pushing on them, no joke.

Also, because I did a few internet searches about it (looking for home remedies that would be safe for the baby,) I am now getting dozens of adds on every web page I open about psoriasis.  And every single page has something to do with getting over the embarrassment   Can I just say, once again for the record.... Screw being embarrassed over psoriasis!  Who the heck cares?  You know when I found out I was supposed to be embarrassed by this?  When those stupid ads and commercials starting popping up all over the place to spread the word, so to speak, and tell me I was supposed to be embarrassed by it.  I say, that if somebody is actually going to be so shallow as to judge me for an auto-immune disease I have that causes me some gross skin patches, etc, FORGET THEM!  I really need to internet to stop sending me those adds.  The trouble is, the ad robots, or whatever, don't listen to reason.  By clicking on a psoriasis add and telling it to go away forever, all I seem to accomplish is telling the ad robots to find me OTHER psoriasis links to send me.  Grr.  I can't stand it.

Do my fingertips hurt like hell right now?  Yes.  Do they looks pretty nasty?  Yes.  But nobody would even notice them if I didn't point them out so why on God's name should I be embarrassed?

Horrified

I'm having a really hard time moving on today.  Trying to be normal.  To do anything other than search through news articles and photos looking for some good news or a reprieve about yesterday's horrifying bombings in Boston.

I held back tears this morning as I got my son dressed for Preschool.  It's barely been three and half months since the shootings in Connecticut and I've only just begun to relax about leaving him there again. But yesterday I felt all sorts of guilt that I've relaxed about it at all.  Why did I "forget" already?  How did I put it out of my mind?  How dare I relax about giving him a proper goodbye hug and kiss every single morning before I leave him there... just. in. case.

I don't know the city of Boston well, but I've been there... mainly sitting in traffic back at the turn of the century (ha!) when Matt was in Newport, RI and I would go to visit him.  Boston was in the process of moving lots of the above ground freeways into underground tunnels and the traffic was insane because of all the construction on top of the normal city congestion. I know the airport well also.  Matt and I shared some of our biggest early tearful "goodbyes" back then, when we were still young and in love, but not enough to 100% trust each other not to move on in the difficult long distance circumstances of our relationship then.

That doesn't matter so much though.

What does matter to me is that Matt and I are both runners.  He, much more so than I.  But still.

I began running during one of the hardest times in my life.  I wanted to feel strong.  I wanted to challenge myself.  I needed to do something just for me.  I wanted to be a part of the fitness movement and participate in events that, while including huge personal triumphs for myself, really were about so much more than just me.  Next month it will be a year since my first 5K event.  In the 9 months that I was really seriously running (before I took this maternity leave from the sport, as it were) I participated in 4 5Ks, 2 10Ks , 1 5K obstacle/mud run,1 5 mile race and 2 half marathons.  As "impressive" as all of might seem, what really is much more interesting is all the long hours I spent training.  That's where those races are really run and won.  Training runs, being so so much harder always.  Without the thrill of the crowds or the promise of a shiny medal at the end of the day.  It's just you and your running shoes, and maybe your ipod, a bottle of water... and in my case a jogging stroller holding my 2 year old.

It's just you and your gut, trying to outlast your brain and will yourself to keep moving forward, through the hot sun or the wind or (although never in my case) the freezing cold and the intense pain, across the ever increasing miles.

What right did some coward have to attack a running event... no, THE running event and try to take that achievement away from people?

All those long hours training...  My heart breaks not only for the victims injured but for all those who'd put in the hours of preparation only to have their finishes taken away from them by an act of terrorism.  And even those who did finish and will go home safely?  Their triumph is surely now tarnished and sour.



A long time ago, after a shift at Sea World, while I was driving home, I passed by part of the course for one of the marathon races here in town.  What I saw were runners, sure... but more importantly I saw the fans.  The family members and loved ones and just plain strangers that gathered along the side of the road to cheer those runners on.  It was amazing.  Beautiful.  It nearly made me cry just to see it.  And I knew, maybe, someday, I wanted to try to do that do.  It didn't matter to me then if I was a spectator cheering for Matt or if I was one of the runners, but I wanted to be a part of something like that.

It seems like the spectators took the worst of it yesterday.  Innocent people who got up that morning with no other purpose in mind than to cheer on their friends and a lot of strangers trying to achieve something great.

The atmosphere at a big racing event is quite honestly one of the most amazing things I've ever experienced.  It's joyful.  It's exciting.  The air quite literally vibrates.  I love being a part of it.  I mean sure, the physical fitness is great... The shiny medals are great... but really, the just being there is the greatest.

How could somebody destroy that?

I take my kids to those events.  I WANT them to experience that atmosphere.  To share, not only in the achievements of their parents when we complete an event, but to realize that they to can do amazing things if they work hard for them.

Boston is supposed to be the elite event.  You have to qualify to run it.  You have to be... basically... insanely FAST to go.  I can only imagine how amazing the atmosphere is there.  People must be achieving their lifelong dreams and goals all over the place.

Who attacks that?

and also WHY?

I can't help but think back to November, when I ran my first truly long distance event, the half marathon up in Santa Barbara.  A lot of my memories of the event have already faded.  But I remember those last couple 100 yards the best.  My body hurt, I was tired.  But I was excited and full of adrenaline.  The crowd was cheering.  The energy was amazing.  I just kept moving forward because I was so close to finishing and I stuck my hand out to anybody in the crowd whom I could reach to give and take high fives.  Afterward I cried and cried and I still don't even know why.

And now I can't help but imagine how that experience could have been different for me, and all those people around us... including my husband (who was running the full marathon,) and my mother in law and my children who were there cheering, had something like what happened in Boston yesterday happened then.

It was a different location and a different, much smaller, way less meaningful race, but it's easy and terrifying to see how it could have been just the same.

The bombs yesterday went off right around the 4 hour and 5 minute mark on the official race clock.  (Give or take a couple of minutes either way... forgive me I just can't make myself watch those videos again to verify the exact time.)  All I can think of is Matt.  He ran his first marathon in Santa Barbara in 4 hours and just over 4 minutes....

If it had been that race that somebody decided to attack... if it had happened at the same time... where would Matt have been in relation to those explosions?

All that is hypothetical of course.  It was a different race.  But still.  Santa Barbara's race in November 2012 was a qualifier for Boston.  If Matt had been fast enough, he could have qualified to be there yesterday.

And so alright, to qualify, Matt would have to shave a good 55 minutes off of his November time (or even a good 40 minutes off of his PR from the end of January.)  BUT STILL.  He could qualify for that race some day if he worked for it.  We've talked about his doing it.  He still might try to do it in the future...

In a very real way, Matt could have been running yesterday.  And I might have been there with the kids, to cheer him and all the other runners on.

Where would we have been?  Would he have been done yet?  How would we have responded?

Would we have even had the chance to respond?

It's horrifying.

I have a lot of runner friends.  Many of whom had friends who were there yesterday.  Thankfully, it seems that all of my friend's friends are okay.  However, there are so many who just aren't.  I don't actually know them, but then again, I do.  Those injured runners and spectators could have been the runners and spectators from any of the events I've been to or participated in.  Running is a community.  The people are all, in a very real way, the same.  It's a family.

I just don't get it.

I don't.

And I'm terrified.

Last night, as I wasn't sleeping all I kept thinking about it how I hate lying to my children.  I want so so badly to be able to be honest with them.  But a couple of nights ago, Peter had a bad dream and wanted me to stay with him even though he insisted he was too scared to sleep.  I laid in his bed with him for awhile and hugged him tightly and promised him that he was safe.  I promised him that there was nothing to be scared of and that I'd protect him from anything either way.

Even while I laid there and said that (a couple of days before this latest tragedy) I knew I was lying to him and I hated it.   I hate that the world is so full of ugliness and things to fear.  I hate that it is so random and there's really no way of knowing what might happen or any real way to be prepared.

I know that even in the face of all this badness there are heroes and helpers and amazing goodness.  I know that the ugliness and the badness doesn't ever really win out.

Except that a little bit... they do.  People are dead.  Totally random, innocent people.  And no matter how many amazingly good stories of heroism emerge from tragic days like yesterday... those innocent people are never going to get their lives back.  Or their lost limbs back.  Or even the triumph of completing that race back.



And meanwhile, all we really can do is pray.... in fact PLEAD with God to keep us, and our precious loved ones safe.  Please dear Lord, please not them. I beg you Lord, just spare MY sweet babies.  Lord... my husband, please....  

There's nothing more to do or say.  Just, please Lord.  Please.  I beg you...  Amen.