As if it weren't bad enough that she's missing a tooth... or that she has a mean streak a mile wide (but a sweet side just as big, keep that in mind)... girlfriend fell OFF the stairs. Not down. Not slipped a few and caught herself. OFF the stairs. As in over the side and flattened like a pancake on our lovely indoor outdoor carpeting. The carpeting with no padding underneath to protect you from the basement's cold, hard, unforgiving CONCRETE floor. She cried off and on for about 30 minutes before she popped off my lap and said, "I'm not sad anymore." Chances are she went to go re-enact the scene with her Barbies, Brenda (that Hussy) laughing maniacally from the floor while Ballerina styled Disney Princesses plummeted to their death. She is the Honey Badger who we also lovingly refer to as fang (let us all remember her super sharp front tooth, the one I'm certain she files to a sharpened point while we sleep.)
Had she attempted to break her fall, she probably would have broken a limb. I'm certainly surprised that by 3 years old she HASN'T broken any bones. Remember the ankle incident? She fell a good 8 or so feet to the floor below all because she a.) refuses to hold onto the bannister and b.) wanted to avoid the cat who likes to sleep at the top of the stairs. Luckily she only hit her head. ((Insert awkward silence here.)) You know, the part of her body that encases her BRAIN. That yellow/purple shiner is AH-MAZING as is the green/yellow/purple goose egg on her forehead.
One of my more favorite trips as a flight attendant were, oddly enough, the flights into Hawaii. They were easy, EASY! None of our passengers spoke English (we were working a Japanese tourism gig) and if they did, we just nodded and smiled and went back to our own work. We weren't TRYING to be complete bitches, it's just... broken English... no translators (as we were promised.) I remember during meal time having to draw pictures of fish/chicken/beef on the backs of broken down soda sleeves so we could properly serve our passengers. I still don't remember ever getting an explanation as to why the promised translators weren't aboard the flight. I wrote about my experiences in Japan here.
Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember
the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every
kind on the earth." Genesis 9:16, God's promise.
Our first flight into Hawaii was shortly after a storm had come through. Seeing a double rainbow was beautiful and I was super lucky to have caught it on a tiny toss away camera. All of Hawaii was amazing, but I was only disappointed by the fact that our location was so touristy. I would have loved to have been able to visit the more remote and "local" type areas outside of just Waikiki.
This cracked me up. Effective warnings at the very least.
After walking a few blocks from our hotel, I was able to sit on the beach and get a good look at the infamous Diamond Head. Several of our more adventurous crew members took advantage of what little time we had there and hiked it. Good for them.
Sitting underneath the Banyan tree outside one of the many little touristy mall setups.
A memory I have that sticks out most of all is waiting for our paychecks to go through so we could stock up on supplies for our trip and, duh, souvenirs. I remember needing something badly and not wanting to wake any of my fellow crew members to see if I could borrow a few bucks to run to the nearest 7-11. I was constantly checking my bank account and it finally cleared sometime in the early hours of the morning. So as the sun started peeking up over the horizon, I got my shoes on and stepped out of the hotel. Let's just say there were a lot of lovely ladies (I think they were ladies?) on their way home from "work." What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii I guess (I hope!) I remember being on the phone with my Mammaw at the time and I had to stop to tell her what all I could see on my walk to the store. She and I were both holding our sides thousands of miles apart we were laughing so hard.
Talking to my Mammaw during my trips was a highlight to both of us. I would call her before I left to fill her in on where I was going or afterwards to tell her what exciting things I'd been able to partake in. As a young woman, she and at least one of her sisters had wanted to work as a flight attendant as well but during that time they were a lot more strict on height/weight regulations. I come from a family of short, well "rounded" people. Whenever I would get my pictures developed I would get just as excited as her to share my visions of the places I'd been. I think I loved retelling my adventures to her just as much as she enjoyed hearing about them.
While pregnant with Logan, I had the pleasure of flying through Turkey to get to Larnaca, Cyprus. Let me just tell you, those crazy Cypriots love them some karaoke all... through... the... night. God bless their little hearts. We stayed at a pretty fancy hotel, that of course I don't remember the name of, and we spent less than a few hours there awake each layover.
Apparently you can just pick a place and dig and 9 times out of 10 you'll find a little bit of history right underneath your feet.
I drank deliciously rich Turkish coffee each morning, looked out onto the Mediterranean sea, let the warm moist air soak over me as I trekked along the beach and between the adjoining hotel. It was very peaceful there for a country torn between it's Greek and Turkish roots. I could use a little peace right now.
The hotel grounds overlooking the Mediterranean.
Old Greek style alleyway between our hotel and the neighboring hotel.
I wrote about this SCARY ASS HIGHWAY on a previous post. Good times.
"I wish I'd had the pleasure of staying here longer. I cried when we
passed the Starbucks on the way back to the airport. More because I
needed to get out of the BUS OF DEATH and off the HIGHWAY DROPPING INTO
THE OCEAN than my need for caffeine. See exhibit A above. Shoulder
schmoulder. You save money when you don't bother to put up guard rails
on the OCEAN SIDE of the road."
Have you ever felt like that? Where you could be sitting on the couch, clipping coupons and this little subconscious thought pops into your head... that you just want to go home. But silly you, you ARE home. These are your couches, your coffee table, your kids and animals. Just where is this home you want to go to?
These baby birds would really like for me to find my own home so I can get up out of their faces. Who knew that if you provided a bird house, actual birds would move in.
Yesterday I had a very unsuccessful yard sale, like all my yard sales typically go. Apparently my things aren't as valuable to anyone else as they are to me. Who DOESN'T want a tabletop reversable Foosball and air hockey table? I MEAN, COME ON! I had all the makings of a decent sale, and even hauled everything over to my Mom's house (she normally has decent sales.) Nada. Hardly any bites. I made $50, and I'm trying to stay positive, but Mama needs money. I need to move.
The kids enjoyed Yard Sale day, but only because they were at Grandma's house which meant Mommy wasn't cooking and actual hot breakfast (granted, from a fast food chain) was served. Let's not talk about the fact that they each had a bowl of cereal not an hour before this picture was taken. Black holes... both of them.
The gypsy in me is itching to run screaming down the street with everything important to me in my arms. I feel unsettled here for the first time in nearly 5 years. I spoke a few posts back about feeling as if I'm a hamster constantly running and falling off my wheel. Now I just feel like I'm in housing limbo. We can always just stay here and continue chugging along like we've been doing, but... I don't want to anymore. I can't. This arrangement needs to change because I feel like this is no longer my home. I don't know what changed my mindset as we've attempted making the move before, but now this feeling is too hard to ignore. I'm looking down both paths in my head and it's not that the grass seems greener on the path out, but more that a hurricane is barreling towards us if we stay. I can't explain it anymore than that, because I don't even understand. It's just a gut feeling that we have to go or our entire lives will be upended.
They're growing so fast, so ridiculously fast and I can't stop to catch my breath for fear they'll be married and old if I do. We need a change, for their sake as much as ours.
I came home from the yard sale slightly sunburned and sporting a serious headache, which of course raged into a full blown migraine right at bedtime. Convenient, no? So I went on Facebook and asked if anyone else ever felt that guttural homesickness, the unnerving urge to just go home when in fact you're already there. I was overwhelmed by the responses. "ALL.THE.TIME., I feel homesick all the time. I think its the connection of a place and time when things were simple and safe., hate that feeling, OMGYES! I thought I was just strange! Lol, Yep! The feeling used to get
so strong I'd literally just sit in my room and cry and wonder wth was
wrong with me. I still feel like that sometimes and I still have yet to
figure out why." I'm not alone in this, which is reassuring and discomforting all at the same time. Other than actually running down the street till we feel settled, how do we get past this without completely screwing ourselves financially? Of course I'm worried about finances, OF COURSE. Money is constantly my worry, can we do this? Can we do that? Can we afford to send the peanut to school next year or let her skip a year seeing as she's not technically required to go and the lottery program won't kick in for her till fall of next year? Can we do this alone instead of being reliant on others as we've been in the past? I make myself sick with worry when all I CAN do is worry. It's what I'm best at, y'all!
If only I could get away with being this stylish and carefree. Maybe "home" is a state of mind. I'd like to live in Lillie's state of mind. Just for a minute.
I was so discouraged at the end of the sale that I donated nearly everything. All my too big clothes, all my books not worth keeping, all my craft supplies that I had best intentions for... I did, however, bring the changing table home seeing as it was a major source of anguish between Lillie and myself when I took it out of the bathroom. Girlfriend will be going to college in pull-ups at this point. I quit. Potty training is my number one source of birth control right now thanks to her. I just... I didn't want to bring anything home. I wanted to sell it all, put the cash in savings and have less things to pack up. The voice in my head tells me it's time to pack, so therefore, no more shit coming through those doors! Everything must go! And yet, it didn't go. And all I wanted to do was cry when my Step Father asked me what to do with everything. I allowed myself one Rubbermaid bin to fill with items coming back to the house. Everything else got loaded up on the back of his truck. I've realized that I don't want to put my craft room back together. It's been months since we moved our work spaces around and all my craft stuff is in literal piles. Nothing is organized anymore. It's not that I don't want to craft, I do! I want to be inspired and get my hands dirty and ruin some more clothes with Mod Podge. But... I just want to pack it all up. I don't want to settle into a space here anymore, I don't want to paint or clean anymore carpets in this house unless it's as a last ditch effort to make the place more presentable after we've moved everything out. It took everything I had to clean the kids bathroom today just because I was over it. OVER IT. I am so grateful they have a bathroom and bedrooms to nest themselves in, but I'm ready for positive change. I'm ready. God please hear me when I say those words. I'm ready for whatever it is that you have in store for me, but please let it be positive or lead me on a path with a better outcome!
My "Om" pendant I bought a million bajillion years ago at the Gypsy Market in Atlanta and the "love" charm the Husband bought me for HIS birthday last year.
Our very first family portrait after Lillie was born. I can't help but swell with love and joy when I see their little faces here. I can't believe Lo was only 18 months old when this was taken. He seems so grown up now.
Ollie Kickflip McTwist. Or as he's more recently been dubbed, "Scab-asaurus Rex." He's cranky. He has allergies and he's also a little neurotic. Ok. A lot neurotic. He licks and scratches himself till he's raw. He needs kitty xanax. His number one fear is balloons. Just ask my sister.
One year and one month ago today I started writing Domestic Mischief. I can't believe I forgot my own birthday. HOW EMBARRASSING. I want to write something profound and enlightening to all of you, but today I can't. Up and down, down and up, round and round this week has been. And here I am, still writing. I'm trying ridiculously hard to stay focused, to keep my eye on the prize... and yet people keep moving the prize and then I stumble, trip on my hamster wheel looking anywhere and everywhere to replace my focus yet again on the reward. I call it a reward, but it's so much more than that. It's responsibility, stability, security. I hold my breath as I stumble and pray I can keep running without wiping out once again.
I have depression and generalized anxiety disorder with a healthy helping of panic. On bad weeks, my therapist nods her head and waits until I'm done to take my hand and tell me I'm doing better than I could be. That the medications have dumbed down the panic that could have been, the attacks that might have left me shaking and sobbing, gasping for air on the side of the road. I worry. I worry a lot. More than most people, but I don't do my worrying aloud. I keep it inside, festering and bubbling till it chokes me when I least expect it. These were not the reasons I started writing, but here we are. I do my damnedest to write equally or more about the light and love that surrounds me every day. But attempting to share these moments when I'm so riddled with fear is a marathon in itself. Just to forewarn y'all, this post is gonna be ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE. Just, you know, hang in there! There WILL be a light at the end of this tunnel.
I am always crazy worried about my Husband, about his physical abilities and the way (ways?) it effects him mentally. I see a whole person in front of me, granted he has physical scars from a myriad of sports and sibling related injuries, but he is whole. No large deformities, no tell tale signs of disability. He uses every ounce of strength and then some that he doesn't have, to tumble around with our children or to thump his chest and do man things (cutting grass, working on the car, etc.). But I'm a black and white person. I have to see things to believe them. If I can't hold the facts in my hand, they must not be true. I'm a "pics or it didn't happen" kind of gal. When the orthopedic surgeon hunted me down post shoulder surgery to show me the HOOKS they had to implant in his shoulder to re-link tendons and ligaments to their rightful places, I all but threw up my lunch. All this time he'd lived with the pain, and because I couldn't see it, I simply patted him on the back and silently muttered for him to "Buck up and walk it off." I'm an amazing wife, y'all... you don't even know. So when he goes into jobs that are once again physically demanding I hold my breath. I still run, and I still hold high hopes for positive outcomes, but I watch the prize dangling in front of my hamster wheel and pray to God nobody snatches it out in front of me again. I'm never allowed to hope and dream and see the final outcome. And I want it made clear that I do NOT blame my Husband for this, as I'm sure he's already reading this thinking that he'd misread a line in our marriage pact and that this is his "loophole." Sorry, mister, you're stuck with me... because I still have his back, I still want him to thrive and do all these manly man things and grunt and thump his chest and feel GREAT at the end of the day. Instead, I watch him strap the ice pack to his shoulder as he pumps the ice water through from the attached cooler. This is the only way I can visually see the pain he is in. My black and white is right there in front of me, but sometimes I'm so blinded with anger by the "prize" being moved from my line of vision that I can't see that it's not anyone's fault that I fell. The shame I feel after stings my cheeks and once again the panic rises.
Today my Grandfather called me while I was out to tell me he'd heard my Grandmother. That after he'd puttered around in the garden and come inside to relax a bit, that she called out to him from the kitchen... asking him if he'd like a sandwich. This was typical of my Grandmother. But this moment knocked the wind out of me. Yes, my Mother talks to her Mother and "feels" her presence at times, but my Grandfather hasn't really spoken about my Grandmother to me in months if not more than a year. He brings her up in conversation, but the last time he'd spoken of her as if she were "visiting" he had told her to go home, that she was dead and therefore didn't belong here. Hearing that she offered to make him a sandwich really shook me. I don't want anything to happen to my Grandfather, I want him to be happy and healthy. I want him to not worry too. Because I didn't get this way with all my "what if's" and other questions just out of the blue. I was born this way and I've got a long line of genetics on both sides of my family that worry much like I do. I don't want him to be sad or upset should we decide to move on and make our way as responsible adults into our own home. I don't want to see him disappear in front of me and only hear his voice in my dreams. I don't want to lose him too.
I have begun to apply for jobs again. I applied to my old standbys (places I've worked before) only to discover after the fact that they are only accepting applications with no thoughts on hiring until after summer. Upon that discovery, I decided to walk my happy ass over to the closest grocery store and apply, because at this point, WHY THE FUCK NOT. Know who wasn't hiring? The grocery store. Next door was a maternity/baby boutique. They? Were hiring. Their hours are weird though, you couldn't work full time there if you wanted to. I accepted an application and brought it home with me, where it now just sits there... staring me in the face every time I walk past it. I'm a little funny about working in retail, specifically clothing, worse, maternity. I want more kids so bad, but I try to keep in mind that my personal biological clock is Michelle Duggar waving a giant I would probably have 15 or more kids if I let my uterus take the reins. So hawking stretchy shirts for the stylish pregnant woman is kind of like a knife to the uterus and/or heart. I'm not so sure I could work there without coming home and bawling my eyes out over these little humans I created that are TOO BIG TO NURSE AND ROCK TO SLEEP WHAT THE HELL, KIDS, WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!??!?? Oddly enough, however, I got a random call today and I sent it straight to voicemail because, hello, I don't have you listed in my address book so therefore you can leave me a message. If it's important, I'll call you right back. It was a company that I'm pretty sure I applied to before Christmas. They wanted to give me a phone interview before sending me to the big boss for a real interview. I called them right back. The only problem I have with phone interviews is I can't stand to talk on the phone, I loathe it. I would much rather see you face to face so I can better read your body language. She told me she was passing me on to her boss and they would schedule a real live interview with her once she comes back from vacation. I've heard similar stories before, so I'm trying really really hard to remain running on this damn wheel and to not get distracted... but it's so damn hard. For once, I'd just like to get off the wheel and enjoy the scenery and all the life I have humming about me.
I have a hard time with Easter. It was one of my Grandmother's favorite holidays outside of Christmas, and it's supposed to be MY holiday when it comes to family gatherings. Unfortunately, since I'm the only descendent with children of "egg hunting" age, it seems a bit ridiculous to have everyone over. I'd much rather handle the whole Easter basket, egg filling and dessert making thing and not worry about whether or not the pre-teens are going to give away that there really ISN'T an Easter bunny. The last year I held Easter here, my oldest male cousin and his brother got out of their parents car talking all about how he wasn't real and neither was Santa. I quickly shut them up, because SERIOUSLY... My kids still believe in these things, it's exciting to think of this imaginary bunny pooping jelly beans in the yard and sharing plastic eggs full of forbidden treats in the bushes. They are still gullible in other words, and I'd like to keep them that way thankyouverymuch.
So now, our new tradition is to go to my Inlaw's and litter their yard with eggs and let the kids run off their sugar between the pool, trampoline, half pipe and (tick, flea, etc.) free yard. Our infestation seems to quadruple every year and they're pretty resistant to just about anything we've put out. SO SCREW IT. Inlaw's house it is! Seeing as my side of the family is pretty fragile right now, it's better this way.
I went into making their baskets this year with as little candy as possible. They'd already had an egg hunt at school, they had another one at Sunday School, and then SURPRISE SURPRISE (NOT!) the Easter Bunny visit my Mother's house AND my Inlaw's front yard. My cookie jar is filled to the brim with enough sugar to put a diabetic into a coma. Y'all, please come take this candy from me! I already ate all my fancy Peeps, y'all can have everything else.
The kids took the egg hunt SERIOUSLY. There was a no holds barred viciousness between them. People, we have entered the full on sibling rivalry stage. If they ask for a snack, each one has to have the biggest. If they're playing with a toy, it immediately becomes the toy the other child had their eye on. If one doesn't want to be a big helper, the other will knock the wall down to be the BEST CHILD EVER as they shoot daggers at the other child. Lord help me, pray for me, something. Lillie ran from one egg to another as if she were still in Color Run mode. Girlfriend HAULED between eggs and was overwhelmed by the amount and therefore got tunnel vision and couldn't see the 60 other eggs in the vicinity. She would focus on one egg and one egg only. Lo took his sweet time, inspecting each egg to make sure it held "the good stuff." Like that even mattered seeing as I dumped it all in the cookie jar at the end of the day. I love (and hate) that they're at this stage, where they know what to do and can do it all by themselves. Unfortunately, it also means they can open their own candy... all by themselves.
Don't let their innocent faces fool you, they are ruthless egg hunters.
I have no idea just how much candy they ended up consuming between the three egg hunts, but I made doubly sure to scrub their little teeth in search of the elusive "sugar bugs." The Easter Bunny also conveniently left brand new toothbrushes and toothpaste... because that's how I roll. Their Easter Baskets also included books, bubbles and little Lego kits. They had one small snap apart chocolate bunny a piece. Because what IS Easter without a chocolate bunny???
Lillie LOST HER MIND over her "GURR WEGO!" and books. Lo was just as excited, but contained himself. I, for one, think 6 a.m. is too damn early to put together Lego kits. JUST SAYIN.
And then, what comes up... MUST COME DOWN. After three egg hunts, Lillie crashed. Tantrums of epic proportions echoed off the walls, toys were thrown, tears were shed... Logan just used all his extra energy to run laps around the backyard. Game of corn hole? Yes please! Back flips on the trampoline? HELLZ YES. And let's play ten rounds of Mario Kart on the Wii somewhere in between all this madness. His meltdown didn't really occur until it was time to leave. But we always anticipate that one.
We were all a little sugared up. We also got fun things in our baskets as well... like stick on mustaches. WHERE ON EARTH DO YOU EVEN FIND THESE THINGS???
Dinner was divine, and I did fairly well with my portions... until I debuted my Hummingbird Cupcakes. They were melt in your mouth delicious and the cream cheese frosting came out ah-mazing! My Husband walked in on me icing them and I have a tendency to make sound effects as I ice my goods. That day in particular, I added a little "bloop" every time I pulled the icing bag away from the cake. It was totally necessary to "bloop" or the little icing curly cue never would have come out perfect. Just trust me on this.
And then God said "Let there be cupcakes!" And there was, and it was good.
So that was our Easter in a nutshell. I hope everyone else enjoyed the company of friends and family this weekend, even if you didn't have a chance to celebrate. We're all still riding high on our Color Run vibes around these parts. ((Except for the children who are STILL crashing 24 hours later and demanded chocolate for breakfast.... hooligans.))
I can't even begin to tell you how amazing our morning was yesterday. I was the atypical kid on Christmas morning. At 6 a.m. I jumped out of bed, looked at the clock and realized I still had 30 minutes before my ALARMS went off. I'm actually surprised I slept those extra 30 minutes. I snuck upstairs to wake the kids up (this never happens in real life, it's typically the other way around) and Logan was snoring softly into his pillow. As I slooooooowly opened his t-shirt drawer he shot up out of bed and screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE!?!??? IS IT TIME!?!??!!" This is my kid. MY kid. He could feel me all but shivering with excitement and he'd never been so cooperative as he was yesterday morning. He even allowed me to wake Lillie up by myself without completely alarming her. Imagine walking into a bear's den... a bear who'd been in hibernation and was likely to be very, VERY hungry. That is the fear I live with when it comes to times where I have to wake that child. I never know if the bear will remain half asleep or submissive to what I might need her to do, or if she will be VERY ANGRY AND EAT MY FACE OFF. Lucky for myself and Logan, she was super excited about race day as well.
We ate a super nutritious breakfast of "all you can eat" waffles (thanks Eggo for making breakfast stress free! I am only being slightly sarcastic about the nutritious part!) After breakfast we made Daddy coffee, packed up the rest of our gear and counted the minutes before we absolutely had to wake Daddy up. Imagine that whole bear scenario, only the bear has been infected and is now a zombie bear. A zombie bear that needs coffee and NOT a lot of excitement upon first waking up... which is hard when the bear lives with 2 morning people and a 3 year old girl. Poor bear. We were able to get him dressed and out the door in time, praise the lawd. Lucky for us, we live a literal hop, skip, and jump from the Atlanta Motor Speedway (on a clear night you can hear the races, and we live maybe 15-20 miles away TOPS.) Everything lined up like it was meant to be. It was a picture perfect morning... a little chilly to start, but perfect all the same.
We're not the least bit excited to be alive. Quite the contrary.
After parking and getting the kids out of the car we started getting our gear together and my beautiful friend who walked with me all those months ago during my "Rosie" days walked by with her beautiful family. I should say that her pregnant belly literally lead the way as she's pregnant with their FOURTH daughter. To say I'm envious of all her sweet babies would be an understatement, I could use a few more sweet babies around here seeing as mine are trying to grow up on me overnight. But I was so excited to see her, SO excited! Here I was RUNNING A 5K, and I had her to thank for motivating me and being my exercise buddy for months. How did I ever get so lucky to have such amazing friends? Anywho. It was pretty amazing that we ran into her family at the time we did, as had we been any later we probably NEVER would have crossed paths on the race path. She did a great job of getting some good ones of our family before, during and after. Seriously though, I am so lucky to have ran into her pre-race.
We were both sporting our mama-mazing starlet glasses. These things aren't coincidence people!
The "love bug" was contagious there. And yes, we really do act this ridiculous with each other on an every day basis. I am very lucky.
The race. THE RACE!!! It was phenomenal. The Husband compared it to a massive rave for runners. You could feel the love oozing throughout the crowd, and BOY was it a crowd. I'm really glad I was able to run "medicated." It's probably the reason I'm feeling totally awesome physically today. I could have run another 5k afterwards. Minor details, moving along! They allow groups of 1,000 out in waves every five minutes. And no, you didn't read that wrong. 1,000 PEOPLE AT A TIME. We were in the second group and the Color Run themed "caution tape" they used to divide the crowd literally dropped right behind the Husband's head. We had Lillie in her little pink Little Tikes push car filled with waters (and my coffee) under the "hood," Lo rocked out beside me and was mimicking every move I made. While I stretched, he stretched, when I squealed with excitement, so did he. After the first countdown we managed to get a great little clip of just how "amped" he and I truly were.
Are you psyched? I'M PSYCHED! CHEST BUMP, YO!
And then it was our turn... the official pace car of the Atlanta Motor Speedway led us out onto the race path and we were OFF. Logan made it very apparent that he was going to run as fast as he could for as long as he could, so I said screw it, ME TOO BUDDY! ((Today, I regret that for me at least. Not even super strength Tylenol gave my thighs and hips the relief they required. OY VEY.)) Lo's feet barely touched the ground for the first kilometer and he quickly discovered the fine art of wearing his bandana "bandit style" whilst running through the "color" zones. I'm pretty sure we ALL inhaled our fair share of powder though. Let's just say "rainbow boogies" and be done with it, ok?
Lo seems to float in this picture... Princess Lillie cheated for most of the race. More on that later.
Around the 3rd kilometer "color" zone, I became aware of Logan acting different. I mean, shit, he just ran 3 kilometers pretty much non-stop. I slowed him down and assessed him. He was pale and his heart was beating out of his chest. I pretty much freaked out, because OMG MY CHILD HAS A HEART DEFECT AND WHAT THE FERRIS WHEEL WAS I THINKING!!! Since we knew Lillie and the Husband were behind us getting "pink-ified" at the "color" zone, we slowed down to a walk.
Taking a very necessary breather. Also notice he didn't get hardly any pink on him. Chicken.
The Husband rounded the corner and we switched children. Little did I know we were basically at the end of the race. We had maybe 1,000 to 1,500 feet left to run. So I let Lillie "run" in the worst possible shoes for running, she chose fashion over function that day. We had to stop several times as she would literally run her shoes off and we'd have runners chasing us down to hand them to her. Girlfriend didn't even let on that she was missing a shoe or two until someone would alert us to the fact. She was a girl on a mission, people! At the 4th kilometer "color" zone we were pelted with purple powder. I, on the other hand, made the totally sane decision to log roll through the inch plus layer of powder coating the asphalt. My beautiful yoga leggings were anything BUT black after that. It was amazing, I highly suggest it if you do the run in your area. I wish I'd done it at all the "color" zones.
Chugging along like she owns the damn place. As she so often reminds us, "I da boss." Indeed she was. The "pink-ified" pigtails makes it all the more awesome. Her scalp is still heavily pink and purple... oddly enough, so is her belly button.
We caught up with the Husband and Logan right before the finish line where they'd already done a lap around it and then came back to find us. ((Keep in mind I was heavily delayed by constantly putting shoes back on a certain diva child.)) What greeted us at the finish line was unbelievable. Colored clouds of powder drifted through the air like something you'd expect from Willy Wonka's factory. People dancing and hugging. Full grown adults in tutu's relaxing on the pavement. Music thumping from every direction. I would seriously partake in this race every chance I could get if I had the means to do so. I hear they've opened a race in New Orleans... I'm super tempted to sign up. JUST SAYIN. Anybody got connections in New Orleans? I don't do hotels unless someone else is paying!
I really need a tutu.
Lo was bummed he didn't get to meet "Lightning McQueen," but it's still pretty awesome that he got to lean against the Atlanta Motor Speedway's official Pace Car. His Papa (my dad) was pretty excited about that too.
Dancing with her Daddy at the finish line. This is as excited as the diva gets in crowds.
I don't regret a minute of my journey these past 7 months. I've lost nearly 50 pounds, gained a fantastic support group for both my weight loss and in general, and it's all lead me to one of the most amazing days of my life. As I told Logan when he asked if we won after crossing the finish line, "Yes, Logan, we all won today."
First of all, as you've probably noticed, I've dropped out of the "A-Z" challenge. Typically I like to see things through to the end, but I have way too much going on right now that has me at a total loss for words when I sit down to write at the end of the day. I'm simply emotionally and physically drained by the time the kids are down.
Let's talk about Grandparents. My Grandmother is suffering from Alzheimer's. My Father made the decision to move out of her place after months of accusations and confrontations. We've both started receiving calls from her, detailing how there are people with red eyes on her porch at night talking about how they're going to kill her. We're in a bit of a sticky situation, however, in that she doesn't believe she's sick and everything that she needs to have happen she won't agree to. Her Doctor still needs a psychologist to assess her to give her the actual diagnosis of Alzheimer's. It kills me to watch her deteriorate this way, and to know that my children won't know her like I did.
I tell you this because we're dealing with our own situation here in this house. Do not immediately thing that Grandpa has Alzheimer's, he does not. But the situation will end with us leaving this house, because this isn't going to stop until we're no longer here. And that kills me. I would rather throw caution to the wind and force us to become independent than to stay here and have our kids see him negatively. Yes, I'm sheltering them from this as best I can and no, I don't see anything regrettable in that. They love and view him as a fixed structure in their family makeup, and that's great, it's wonderful. But I need them out from underneath him. I needed some time this week to totally freak out over what's going on. Seeing as it's Thursday and I'm finally writing, I declare this freak out a success. Specifically since I spent all day Monday sobbing uncontrollably... and I? Am NOT a crier. Pretty sure my therapist feels completely sideswiped after seeing me Monday. I just can't do this anymore. I can't stay here and watch what I know completely go to shit. The only people benefiting from being here anymore are the kids and Grandpa as the kids have an endless supply of candy and snacks while Grandpa gets the joy of watching them grow and progress. I will miss this for both of them, but neither is worth staying for in the big picture.
I am non-confrontational, a big chicken. I can't handle "big talks" from my elders, when my side of the story is just as logical and valid or when I know something to be completely untrue. I become heartbroken and physically upset when the ones I love are at odds with one another. I can't do this anymore, I can't keep the peace when I don't even know how to anymore. Now when I'm completely distressed, I find myself thinking I want to go home. It's time.
On a totally different and so much more positive note, the Color Run Encore run is Saturday and I CAN NOT WAIT. I'm hoping that it marks the beginning of a beautiful and empowering start to one of the more exciting times of our lives. We need this, I need this.
Time to allow for more positivity and sunshine on my blog again. I don't like all this dark.
Last week my therapist asked me to blog more. You see, I've been slipping back into some kind of muck that I can't really label other than... well... muck. I thought we were getting ahead in life for a short moment and just as quickly, the rug was pulled out from under me and it made me angry and feeling more alone than before. There have been too many "rug pulling" moments since the New Year, and now that we're already over a quarter of the way through 2012, I'm ready to for all this nonsense to end. It's been dragging on way too long. Longer than the past three months should legally feel.
If you haven't already gathered, I've signed on to do an "A-Z blogging challenge." Each day represents a letter of the alphabet and my post has to reflect a word correlating to that letter. For today, "A" could mean a lot of things. I should warn you now that what I originally wanted to be a fun and lighthearted challenge, might end up a little dirty with extra heaping helpings of soul baring. Can you handle the truth? Well? Can you?
Alone, angry, aggravated, agitated, abandoned, ablaze, absurd, afraid, annoyed, anxious, and ashamed. I've felt all of these this week as well as these past few months. I didn't list them in any particular order, but the most felt are alone and anxious. It's hard to adapt to life when you realize that whether you like it or not, you're not always in control, that your mind can and will take the wheel and force you to stop everything while holding a gun to your chest. As the lovely Bloggess so lovingly told me, "depression is an ugly bed-fellow of anxiety, and it lies. It lies like
crazy and you can't trust your own head." It's true. So very true.
