Friday, December 21, 2007

Sweet Caroline

"Where it began, I can't begin to knowin', But then I know it's growing strong."

Neil Diamond, Sweet Caroline.

Last night, in the middle of a good movie, Caroline helped me clean up vomit -- without being asked. Ladies, we all know there ain't much better than that.

"Sweet Caroline, Good times never seemed so good."

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The Value of Ups and Downs

I realized today that it's not as much the altitude that makes me huff and puff, but the hills. In Utah, my run is a constant stream of ups and downs. My dad used to tell us that he walked to school uphill both ways. Now, like most things, I am realizing that my dad was right (As a parent I now fully support the idea that parents are always right!).

Even with all the huffing and puffing, I LOVE HILLS! At first, there's a bit of fear when I see one looming so tall in the distance. But, if I just relax and keep going something strange happens -- the hill disappears (very slowly in my case). Getting to the top of the hill doesn't happen with one giant leap. Instead, it's a collection of baby steps, each requiring only slightly more effort. In just a short week of hill workouts, I feel stronger, still huffing, but stronger.

For me, this lesson has more than running applications. When I am faced with a challenge that seems insurmountable, if I just keep going, with baby steps, I usually get there. Some challenges I can anticipate, others come unexpectedly (like potholes hiding beneath the snow). However, the process and results are the same -- I feel stronger.

For a long time I thought this strength only came from the struggle to the top. The downhill has always been a difficult part of the hill for me to accept (like taking days off from exercise, taking naps, watching an occasional episode of Oprah, and just giving myself a break in general). I know I need to rest, and I usually do, but not without a ping of guilt. No matter how often I tell myself it's OK to enjoy the decline, I just can't let it go.

This guilt also beats me up over small imperfections and minor setbacks. Today, I ate everything in sight and I'm struggling to put it behind me. It is what it is, so I just need to sum it up as a bad day and get on with the rest of the climb. Baby steps to the top, right?

I can do it.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Am I A Bad Mother?

Do you sometimes wonder if you are a bad mother? Just read on and wonder no more.

Last week, I was running on the treadmill when Shelley woke up. Brady happened to be home for an afternoon break, so he brought her into our bedroom while I finished the last few minutes of my workout. First, she was sitting happily on our couch watching me sweat like a pig, running nowhere. Bored with this, she decided to play with our computer (or should I say on?). Fine, fine -- I just wanted to finish my workout.

Well, next thing I know she's got an OPEN PERMANENT MARKER heading toward our couch. Immediately, I slam the STOP button on the treadmill and hurdle over our bed to reach her. Unfortunately, my shoe gets twisted in our unmade bedspread and I fall directly onto my hurt knee. I wince and cry out in pain. I could hardly move. I try to move my leg manually, but I cringe and cry some more.

In the midst of my agony, I look up and see my sweet Shelley standing near me with tears in her eyes. She's really sad for me -- and probably a little scared, too. So I say, "Shelley, come here." When she hesitates, I say again, "Shelley come here, sweetie." She walks gently toward me and I...

...reach out and take away the open permanent marker! (Of course I gave her a hug next, but does that erase my callous first thought?).

If that weren't enough, I have yet another confession.

My kids have been waking up promptly at 5 am here in Utah (7am Florida time). When I choose to wake up at 5 am, I am almost bearable after an hour. But, when others beat me to the punch -- watch out -- they usually get the punch instead!

So, a few days ago Shelley and her cousin, Fox, were running around the family room while Caroline and I tried to catch a few more winks of sleep (this is perfectly acceptable behavior for exhausted mothers). I look up to see Shelley coming down the last few stairs from the kitchen. The next thing I hear is a small thud -- meaning she probably only fell down the last one or two stairs onto the incredibly plush carpet. And what do I do? I say, "Oh Shelley, you fell down. Come here and let me hold you in bed." And, like the well-trained daughter of a lazy mom, she did.

My gift to you today: the wonderful at least-I-didn't-do-that feeling. Enjoy!