Resolutionists

2014

Instead of striving for happiness I will try to be grateful. I will make time to make art. I will walk slowly. I will stride I will read. I will try to learn what my fear is so desperately trying to teach me. I will make stress my friend, instead of just the crazy friend that has been living on my couch the past few years. I will travel, even if it is just outside the boundaries I have made for myself. I will endeavor to appreciate all that I have without adding the "but wouldn't it be great if..." caveat to everything I do. I will strive to remember that I am enough. I will be great. I will wake up early and breathe deeply. I will run...far and fast and for the pure joy of it. I will play more. I will make less rules, but follow those that I have put in place. I will take fewer pictures, but make the ones I do take, count. I will be open to the possibility of love.

And...because I can...here's 2013 in (picture) review

     
   

   

     

    

   

   

 

 

 

 

Monumental Achievement

Sometimes you just can't see the forest for the trees. I always though this was a dumb little bit of rhetoric...until I had kids.

It's amazing how you simply don't notice how much your babies have grown, until all of a sudden? All three of them have run their first full 5K race. Mind you, I didn't say "finished" their first 5K. Because lord knows we've done that. Last December I may have carried two of the three over the finish line amidst whining and complaining galore. 

But this past weekend? This past weekend they all ran a 5K. And two of the three of them? Finished before I did.

 

The Munchkin's school has been taking part in a program that was stretched across several IPS schools called BOKS. Twice a week the kiddos would go to an additional P.E. class before school - the prevailing thought being that physical activity first thing in the morning helps children focus during the day in addition to being the healthier option.

And during BOKS over the past few months, The Munchkins and their friends have been training. For a road race. For the Monumental Marathon.

So earrrrrrrrrrrly last Saturday morning, about 100 of The Munchkins' Mates showed up at school for warmups, Tshirt distribution, breakfast and a bus ride to the start line. Kids were excited and nervous, but I truly don't think they quite knew what they were up against just yet. Until we arrived...

And then? I realized I hadn't know what I was up against until that moment.

There were HUNDREDS upon HUNDREDS of tiny people in oversized orange shirts.

It was a tiny army of students marching toward the start. It was overwhelming in the best way. And I saw other parents and IPS volunteers looking around in awe at the sheer numbers of kids that had turned out for this race.

It was a testament not only to the work that the teachers had put into this event, and the massive planning it hadn't taken to get everyone there; but also to the dedication of each student to the program. Each of those hundreds of kids had gone home, told a parent or guardian that they wanted to run a 5K, and those parents? They had to not shake their head in clear disbelief and instead think "Okay, sure, my kid can totally run a 3+ mile race with thousands of other people through the streets of Downtown, Indianapolis". Hah!

But Mine did think that. And, clearly, I'm a little rattled because I, too, thought this was a good idea. That morning, however, The Munchkins were eager to take off and run with their friends (apparently, running a race with your mother is SO not cool. Unless you're six. And then I don't give you an option. Sorry, kid.)

So off they ran...sprinting despite adult protestations to "take it easy", "start slow", and "Pace Yourself!!!!" The Monkey and I darn-well paced ourselves. And that kid? She ran the entire race. No kidding. After the first mile or so we picked smaller, manageable goals.
"Mom...let's stop and walk"
"Okay, Soph., let's just run to that next pole/stoplight/speedlimit sign first, okay?"

Chopping a race up into manageable distances makes the distance fly.
Trust me, I do this to myself every single race I run.

And after that 2Mile marker? The kids were so jazzed that they were almost done we could hardly keep them at the 'slow jog' pace we'd set.

Honestly, I'm amazed. At age size, eight, and nine I was NOT running road races.

These kids are light years ahead of where I was at their age.

And when The Monkey and I triumphantly sprinted across the finish line (thanks, kid) The Monumental immediately became one of my favorite races.
Because I was able to share it with the entire clan.

 Good job, gang.
I'm so proud of you.

Halloween Wrap Up

Is today November 8th? 

Yes

Am I just now posting about Halloween?

Yes.

Am I just now attempting to revive this blog after an interminable break?

Yes.

So this year, as opposed to in years past, I only made ONE of the Halloween costumes this year.  And it wasn't the witch...and it wasn't the cheerleader...

 

Only Mr. Man consistently requests costumes one cannot actually find in a store.

This year, he was the Joker from Batman. But not just any Joker - he had to be the Heath Ledger Joker.
He may be one of my heart-throbs...but dude was just plain creepy as the Joker. Truth.

So I hacked a pair of pants & a purple blazer from some Goodwill finds and whipped up a quick Green Vest from some fabric on hand...and viola! The Joker! (plus about a pound of white pancake makeup, etc.)

And of course if we had a Joker...we had to have a Batman/Woman.
I just had no choice!

^The Obligatory Porch Photo^

And of course this year we journeyed out to Irvington to decorate our windows for their Annual Halloween Festival. Just like last year The Munchkins' Aunt Rosemary was able to snag a window right outside of Black Sheep Boutique (just a hop, skip and a jump from Jockamos, Black Acre, Homespun, and other local favorites) So the kiddos got to work with promises of hot pizza and warm conversation at nearby Jockamo's for dinner.

 The Monkey illustrated a scene from "The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"
I'm pretty proud of the originality...and inclusion of Linus's blanket!

 The Biz did a bucolic Pumpkin Patch scene...using every last drop of the blue paint.
And if you think that went unchallenged, you obviously don't have kids...

And Mr. Man, after much debate, decided on a graveyard scene...with some bloody bats flying above (because no black and no blue left. oy.)

But my FAVORITE part about Halloween this year?
My Minion Pumpkins.
Now this is a case where Pinterest was just soul crushing.
But, you know, in a good way.

I thought I was being original...I had this great idea...to paint my pumpkins to look like Minions! Guess what? about 3 million other people had that same original idea. Hah. Oh well. So after floating through 50+ Pinterest photos of other people's Minion photos I just turned the phone off and decided to wing it.

I'm pretty pleased. These little guys are adorable.
And eight days later? I just haven't had the heart to toss them in the dumpster yet...

Do-overs

I would like a do-over for this entire past week. None of it has been good after about 10 o'clock Friday.

I hate it when that happens...

Stressed

Most days...I feel like THIS.

When I wake up at 3:00am and can't get back to sleep I'm worried about work, and keeping my job in an industry desperately trying to transform and evolve to stay afloat.

When I put my chin in my hand and drift off for 30 seconds while at my desk I'm worried about things at home: About paying bills and raising my children in a household where I cry at least once a week and try desperately not to let them see that.

When I put The Munchkins to bed at night, I worry about all the things we're missing out on, being in a single-parent household. I worry about all the things I never got to do, and about the mountain of things I should be doing right that minute instead of wallowing in a sense of quiet desperation. I worry about the piles of school work, the mountains of laundry, the closet of shame that's so stuffed with coats and boots and umbrellas and last year's rain boots and reusable shopping bags that we never reuse - that closet whose door I only pry open  when I'm drunk and find it all just hysterically funny. That closet talks to me...like a Parkay commercial. I worry about it all.

An amazing friend, one of the good ones, recently sent me the following:

And you know how sometimes you receive exactly the right compliment at exactly the right time?
This was it.

It's near-impossible some days to shut off the voice in my head telling me I'm not good enough, that I'm screwing things up, that I've made all the wrong choices in my life. That voice is loud, and it bounces and echoes off the caverns inside me. It settles into small cracks and slides under scar tissue. It is so much a part of me, that on some days I don't even try to shut it off, I just slog through it. That voice makes it hard to roll out of bed each morning. It makes it difficult to lie still at night. It makes it impossible to drive unless the windows are down and the radio is up to drown it out.

But, you know, that's life. 

Isn't it?

Everyone has that voice.

This is my one saving grace. 

I am priveleged to have enough good souls in my life that remind me, everyday, NOT that it will all be okay, NOT that I'm doing a good job, but rather that they feel THE EXACT SAME WAY.

Love you all.
You know who you are.

Bleeding Blue

 

So this happened today...

Fat Pants

Okay, guys, here's the thing... I don't even mind how my body looks right now. I don't. I'm in my thirties...I've had a couple of kids. My abs and I had a good run, but we're seeing other people right now, you know? Could I stand to lose 10 or 15 pounds? suuuuuuuuuuuure Could I do it if I just got my ass in gear and stopped whining about it? Without a doubt. You know what I can't do? I can't go back to my 22-year-old, twiggy-ass little pre-motherhood body. And that's a GOOD THING, people. Because I adore the person I am post-motherhood. I'm stronger, more confident, more well-read, a little wiser and a little wider and much more comfortable in my own skin. I make better decisions by the skin of my teeth these days than I ever did thoughtfully in my youth. I am more artistic, more musical, more entertained by the simple things. I dance worse than ever, but do it more often and in more public places. I stride boldly, I don't slouch. I even wear earrings and put a little lipstick on without having to be reminded to do so...some days. I can travel. I can rent cars and own homes. I can be in charge of three tiny lives even though I kill plants like it's going out of style. But all of these attributes still don't mean I can squeeze my ass into a size 2 stretch denim pair of booty shorts. Who DESIGNED these things, anyway? Hmm? Let's string them up by their toes...in their own shorts...