Camp bedtime routine is obviously superior to that of home.RHUBARB!The requisite ruined shoes.Camp Monopoly. . . still Monopoly . . .“Please, Colby. Can we just count up and see who won?!”Matt takes over the kitchen.Fresh off the grill – steamy and aromatic and YUM!Cherry tomatoes, shaved fennel, mussels, white wine, olive oil, salt and crushed pepper. Grill in foil, serve with a good loaf of crusty bread.
As you can see, we’ve been busy trying to relax. I’ve found that a healthy combination of family, fresh air, exercise, good friends and good food is the recipe for a happy me. Funny how I’m not surprised.
July is packed full of camps and trips, so I’m trying to peck away at all of the house jobs I’ve either started or wanted to complete since we moved in (directly before the start of school) last year. I’m taking a class and working a couple of days a week, one from home and one on-site in an attempt to lessen the end-of-August frenzy. Colby is working on a solid teenaged sleeping pattern, and has been quite successful thus far.
Also. I’m reading like CRAZY. I have a couple of reviews in the works for you, but here’s the short list: The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman, Dinner: A Love Story by Jenny Rosenstrach, A Simple Act of Gratitude by Jon Kralik, The Red Pyramid and The Throne of Fire by Rick Riordan. Colby told me that I HAD to read the last two, and not so subtly placed the final book in the series on my nightstand last night.
I hope this rainy morning finds you well. I’m off to clean my house before two of my favorite young ladies show up for the day. If I can banish the dog hair and locate our tub of Thomas the Tank Engine toys all will be right on this end of town.
Though I’m not one for resolutions and absolute “I’m going to change my life RIGHT now by doing x . . . y . . . z. . . “, I sat down early in January and compiled a list of general and specific goals. Some were big (run a 1/2 marathon) and some were bigger (spend more real time with Colby), and I set small goals for myself along the way – checkpoints that would help me see that I was making progress.
I kept running. I relaxed into conversation with Colby instead of bossing him around. I took the Facebook app off my phone.
The Facebook app removal freed me. I’m a bit low on self-control and high in general nosiness – so it is no surprise to anyone that I was on it ALL the TIME. I checked it first thing in the morning from bed. I hit the app icon as soon as I got in my car, before I even put my keys in the ignition. All the time. I couldn’t keep myself away from the constant stream of pictures and information and conversation. It was like being surrounded by my friends 24/7, kinda, but not really.
Eventually I discovered a quick way to Facebook via my iphone without the app. It started again. So over the last few months, as I’ve wondered how to keep myself on center and present, I’ve realized how frequently I am, well, everywhere. I don’t even want to think about how much time I spent creeping on baby pictures. If I had spent all that time hanging out with my own kid . . .
While I’ll miss the parts of your lives I’ve come to look forward to (especially baby and dog pictures, political rants, and reports from other time zones), I’m anxious to clear some clutter from my life before the summer begins.Here’s to good books, morning coffee on my porch, and old fashioned emails!
Colby says “I think this is my thing!”. I introduced him to the trails tonight- 4 miles on the road and 3 on awesomely muddy trail! We finished just as it started to pour.
Well. As Matt put it in a text to his father, “Heather finished the race and didn’t die!”. I’m still a little stunned that I ran 13.1 frickin miles. For many reasons, my training did not go as planned. I lost training time to injuries, sickness, and life. OH, and excuses. When I was actually running the race route, I surprised myself. As pleased as I was for those moments where I was in my sweet spot, when I exited a porta-john at mile 8 with locked up knees I realized that there was a real reason for training plans. I finished and honestly, I am just so proud of myself and my body and my brother for almost literally pulling me through to the finish line.
I could go on and on . . . so I will.
Here’s the breakdown:
Colby + Rock Band = zombie child
Pre-Race: We traveled from Maine to Virginia with little incident. This surprised me more than anything, because I was more anxious about the whole-family traveling dynamic than I was about the race itself. We drove from Bangor to Portland, flew from Portland to BWI, drove a rental car from BWI to my brother’s house in Quantico, VA. We were tired and dirty, but when we pulled up to see my niece and nephew waving from their door I thought I could have run from Maineto see them. We had plenty of late night Rock Band and snuggles and a shared bag of Goldfish crackers.
We spent Saturday drinking coffee, playing babies and baseball, meeting up with my best college friend who drove down from D.C. and spent dinner with another family whose father was running the 1/2 on Sunday. As soon as this guy found out that I was having trouble with shin splints he went to his house and brought back a foam roller for me to use. That and a pair of compression sleeves may have totally saved me (and my legs).
If only this were a re-run of the “Heather and Jessica Show”.After dinner poster making!
I got to bed early and fell asleep before I could finish reading my magazine! Me, the neurotic, anxious mommy! Fell asleep and slept through the night!
Race Day: I rolled out of bed at 4 and found coffee already made. This was a pleasant surprise, and I never figured out who had the foresight to set the coffee maker the night before. I couldn’t find the oatmeal, so I made a bowl of instant Cream of Wheat. I ended up with a solid breakfast of this, two cups of coffee with almond milk, a banana, a glass of water and a glass of Gatorade. I hadn’t eaten great the day before, so I hoped this would do the trick. I settled in with this little guy for some pre-race puppy and coffee time.
Jiggs!
I planned on reading, but he was too cute not to play with. I was so homesick for my own puppies, who I found out later were having adventures of their own (read: porcupines).
Bud, Matt, Colby and I hit the road at a respectable 6:20ish (only a half hour or so past when we were supposed to leave) and made it to the parking lot in Fredricksburg just in time.
Still? No nerves. It was beautiful, all bright blue sky and cool gentle breezes.
Wearing my favorite shirt!Sister and Brother OR Shorty and Skinny
My uncharacteristic calm left abruptly as we approached the finish line. The town crier, a special part of this race, came over the PA I knew it was almost go time. I noticed some sort of recumbent bikes going past us and asked Bud about them. He told me that they started first. They were injured veterans. The band began playing the National Anthem. Now here were the water works. I had spent so much time bitching about my inadequate training and injuries and etc. I had forgotten that it was such a blessing to have the ability and physiology to run this race. I had been so calm because I had convinced myself that this race, the 13.1 miles were nothing, no problem or celebration. Just a run. I was wrong, and it all hit me on the way to the tall green box of relief. The line to the porta-johns were long, but Bud had a plan that got us to empty ones pronto. Then, the gun went off and we entered the throng of people, eventually passing the start line and trying to find an open spot to begin running.
Miles 1-4: My legs were tight and scared. I was feeling guilty that my very fast brother was running with his very slow sister when he could be killing it out there.We stopped at every water station and the course was incredibly well supported. There was a Marine at every turn, handing out high-fives, smiles, and encouragement. We ran through a shady, slightly hilly, and beautiful residential neighborhood in Fredricksburg. The houses ranged from swanky estates to carefully preserved historical artifacts. I was so busy looking around (and talking, sorry Bud!) that I didn’t even really think about what I was doing.
Miles 5-9: The sweet spot. I don’t remember much of this, probably because I was talking so much. While this was an indicator that I wasn’t running at full capacity, I knew that I had a tough section coming up and I wanted to preserve as much of myself as I could for the truly tough section. I do remember feeling like I was clipping along, and wishing I had a Garmin to see what my pace was. I passed people! I smiled! I threw my arms up in celebration when I ran passed the course photographers. This, my dears, was a bit of bragging a bit too early.
Miles 10-12: Hospital Hill. This really, really sucked. I actually nailed the first half of the hill. I figured that’s what God gave me these short little legs and huge ass for: to climb hills. I was showing off. The course evened out for a bit, and I tried to recover for the next section of the hill without losing too much time. The rest of it just.sucked. I had to walk three or so minutes at the top of that hill, and that really pissed me off. I had been dizzy for a few spells earlier in the race, but I have unbelievably low blood pressure. I figured as long as I hydrated well I would be set. At the top of this hill though, I thought I was going down. I was either going to pass out, vomit, or both.
Miles 12ish-Finish: I didn’t want to tell my brother because I didn’t want him to lose any more time. I was having visions of his co-workers making fun of him at work for finishing so slowly, and I was the cause of it. Finally I said “Bud. I have to stop. I’m going to puke”. And he said “No. Keep running”. That was the way it went. When I was swearing, one long, deep, guttural *&%#$##, he gave me everything he had. “You’ve got this”, “This is nothing”, and my favorite “You could run five more miles if you wanted to”. Somehow, I made it to the home stretch. I was really hurting, fighting back waves of nausea and blinking away those blasted eye floaters you get when you are ready to hit the floor. I finally glanced Matt’s bright green t-shirt on the side of the road and Colby and the kids ran out to greet us. Imagine my surprise when Colby announced that he was going to run the rest of the way in with us! I wasn’t particularly impressed when he showered me with such truth nuggets as “Hey Mom! I’m running on 1/2 a cup of coffee and four donuts!” or “Hey Mom! Look! You’re running and I’m walking”. I crossed the finish line flanked by my brother and my son. Those boys carried me home.
I then devoured a handful of sweet, juicy and delicious orange slices. I’m not sure I have ever tasted anything so wonderful. Did I mention it was hot? And that I had so much crusted salt on my face that I had actual salt boogers under my nose. Alas, I was feeling too sick to cash in my free beer ticket from my bib. Maybe that’s my next goal. Finish, but feel well enough to drink a beer immediately after.
Eventually I got my beer, and a steak and a pile of the cheesiest and gooiest mashed potatoes. We capped off our weekend with lots of family time, and as I walked my nephew to his bus my heart broke in the same exact spot it always does when I leave him and his sister. I know that the next time I see them he may not be content to play zombie babies with us. His sister may not say, at every turn, “Tia Heather, when you are done (insert activity), then can we go play babies?”. Luckily, I take enough pictures so I can blackmail them into playing with me at any turn.
Now. Write the caption for this photo.Silly face!Post-Race Playground WorkoutTia Heather and Natalie
While I’m sitting comfortably in my bed, drinking decent wine, surrounded by two snoring dogs and one grumpy guy who probably wants me to stop typing so he can just go to sleep, I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. And a little guilty for my little pity party. The people in my house don’t really do holidays, and by holidays I mean anything other than Christmas.
Life is good, truly, but it’s just, well, it’s almost Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother, I love my grandmothers and aunts and like-a-mothers and mother-friends and friends-who-have-yet-to-become-mothers, and at the end of the day I love myself too. But, well, fuck you Hallmark. And all jewelers and card companies and Kodak and whoever the fuck else floods the market with oversentimental bullshit. Because you know what is not happening in most households in America? Fathers gently rocking sweet new babies to sleep, telling sweet babies about what super-great mommies they have and how mommies deserve the best damn necklaces etc. money can buy. Also, I dare say there is little long term planning. Daddies and kiddos haven’t been sneaking around for weeks creating something heartfelt and thoughtful for mommies. Daddies are going to the store. To buy stuff.
Do I sound like the bitter woman who only hates Valentine’s Day because she never gets a gift? I know. But you know I’m right.
On my first “Mother’s Day” as a mother, I made the mistake of asking my ex what he was planning. His response? “Why? You’re not my mother”. It went downhill from there.
Of course every person wants to feel special and appreciated. It’s human nature – at least at this point in the game. But really? Shouldn’t we be doing this every day? I know it’s a bit of an anomaly, but there are partners who treat their respective partners in such a way that their children learn that people are to be respected, appreciated, and cherished. I know this happens because, as a teacher, I see some of these kids. They are easy to pick out in a crowd.
In this spirit, I am sending out a link to Every Mother Counts, a campaign to reduce maternal mortality world-wide. Because as I sit in my comfy bed, picking at my cesarean scar, there is another woman in the same situation I was in who will not have the benefit of modern medicine. On this Mother’s Day, I will still call my family and friends. I will still be sad if the day passes unnoticed in my household. However, I will spend the day thankful that I was able to physically become a mother – to leave the hospital healthy and with a healthy child.
So, friends, what if a fraction of what we spent on cards and flowers and gifts went to help the other mothers? The ones who don’t, like me, entertain fantasies of secret gifts and breakfast-in-bed, but fantasies of survival and health?
My hope for all of you is that you have a wonderful weekend, but that it is one more day that you are acknowledged, respected, and cherished. And that you take all of that goodness and pass it on the those around you.
p.s.
I almost forgot. FUCK you, Time magazine, for so purposely printing yet another piece of inflammatory, mommy-war inciting rhetoric. I am so unbelievably disappointed.
We’ve been out to camp, in an obscure town full of streams, ponds, and glacially decorated boulders. I have worm guts on the jeans I have been wearing for three days, I smell like wood smoke, and my hair is greasily matted in the strangest places.
I am a happy girl.
While my homebody nature prefers to be at home, surrounded by my most precious and familiar beings and things, camp is a state that exists as an extension of; minus the bills, nagging housework and chores, work, and the responsibility inextricably connected to home.
We set up camp late Friday night, and Matt woke early saturday to make breakfast and coffee while I snuggled with the dogs. Life is so hard sometimes. We didn’t have any luck fishing that morning, but we trailed along the river for a bit, stopped to have a snack on a moss-covered boulder, and headed back to camp. After lunch, camp coffee and a nap we headed out (dogs towing us) to walk a three or four mile loop up and down a hill. We followed the tracks (and scat) of a moose the entire time. Poor Sammie was very excited when we came upon a porcupine crossing the road. Luckily, that was the most excitement we encountered.
Upon return I took my reading spot while Matt made supper (see why I like it out here so much?!). We visited, snuggled with the dogs and…relaxed. It’s a weird feeling for us. I went to bed so early that I was the first one awake!
But now, it’s time to go. We’ve had a dance party, cleaned camp, and watched the dogs swim. I’m sitting in the car charging my phone and talking to you while I watch the sun dance off the pond. And while I’m reluctant to go home, I actually feel rested enough to take on another week. Happy Sunday, friends.
Life is good, people. Over the last few weeks I’ve recovered from an injury, read books (for fun), kicked my training in the arse (5 weeks out!), run a 5k with Colby and my friend Jane, visited with an old and dear friend, and ate a sit-down meal with Matt. Lots of fun and not-so-fun work stuff in between.
But now, it is April vacation. No other vacation compares to this, because we are close enough to see the end of the year AND no major holidays impede the pace of all things vacation. I could break into song at any moment.
I’ve spent the week embodying that line “every day I’m shufflin”. Two positions have given me comfort; one in which I’m lying propped up on pillows, the other I’m walking around with my right arm tucked up in an invisible sling. While my body has been screaming, my spirit has been buoyed by the unexpected warmth and sunshine. This makes be happy.
Because I am uncharacteristically happy and because I’m sure Oprah has trademarked the phrase “my favorite things”, here is a look at some stuff that makes me happy.
This kid and his shenanigans.bubble baths - which coincides with actually living in a house with a bath tubThese girls... even though they act like drunken goats ...Oh, and this guy and his collection of early- to mid-'80s gems. Hey! I'm an early '80s gem!Sunny days!Work/running/life buddy, Jane
Also: Amazon shopping, this book, Central Street Yoga, new running shoes, peanut butter ice cream, and the general feeling that I can thrive in chaos.
from midnight oil 