Seriously. I have figured out some serious shit today. In reading the book The Sweet Potato Queens’ Field Guide to Men: Every Man I Love Is Either Married, Gay, or Dead the author talks about “Man Ears”. To quickly sum up – Man Ears is what all men have that make it so that everything we say somehow becomes an invitation for sex. Example: “Let’s watch a movie” becomes “I want to watch nasty porn with you and have sex with you while watching it” Example: “Would you pass me the newspaper please?” becomes “I will give you a blow job” You get the idea.
So today, I get the following email from my brother Professor (of “Hi I’m Prof, wanna fuck?” famed pick up line – only continuing to prove the “Man Ears” theory): “When are you moving?? I saw Dad yesterday and he said he knew nothing about you moving until last Saturday when he was at Gma’s.”Read More
Once a week I subject myself to the ugliest run possible. I hit the gnarliest trail I know in all its mountainous, muddy, rutty, rocky, ankle breaking glory. And it is awful. I call this my hate run, because quite frankly it is fucking terrible. It doesn’t leave me joyful and optimistic. It doesn’t get easier, even after 6 months of practice, and I haven’t even shaved time off my miles on it. It’s not even fun. While I’m running it I hate every minute.
When I’m finished I feel broken, angry, and frustrated. It makes me want to quit running forever. People always say you should do what you love, I am even guilty of saying that at times, but that’s kind of a misleading concept.
If everyone only did what they loved, we would all find something else to bitch about. Born out of these bouts of running with hatred though are the really really good times. And I think if I ditched my hate run in favor of continual happy sunshine I would definitely take those good times for granted. I don’t know if this weekly ritual has had any play in making me better at running. I don’t even know if it’s just a masochistic endeavor that will end in injury someday. But for now hate running remains on my to do list. I guess what it all boils down to is that I don’t think there is such a thing as being over-prepared. Brace yourself for the worst, expect the worst, and maybe you will come out pleasantly surprised, in running and in lifeRead More
Who are we really trying to kid here? Reason number 7 that I love to run was something I discovered this weekend at the Lee Foster Memorial 5 Mile Run in Saint Marys (being the 7th race of my life – and my quest to 30, I thought it was fitting). Let me start this recap by saying in the days leading up to this race, my motivation to go run it tanked dramatically. I don’t know why, but I was extremely nervous for this one.
I knew it was just a flat out and back, I knew I could run 5 miles (seriously, I just ran 10 the Monday before, and it wasn’t a flat out and back!), but for some reason, I thought I was going to choke. Like straight up get to mile 2, fall on my face, and die alone on the street everyone would make fun of me. I even enlisted my mother in law to ride along so that I couldn’t back out last minute. I don’t know how I could come off of just completing a Tough Mudder and get intimidated by a little local race, but it happened.
I’m so glad I got over it, because this race was really a blast. I ran without my GPS and put on one of my favorite Clutch albums for tunes, and just dropped the hammer. I soon found my pace with a girl close to my age and a man who was in his 70’s, but they both were keeping about 10 seconds faster per mile than I could.Read More
Tonight I went to a neighborhood party and it was actually fun! Nothing crazy happened. We ate, drank, talked and laughed. Neither of the boys had any kind of meltdown, they both ate something and neither of them got into any kind of scuffle with any of the other dozen or so toddlers at the party.
They’re just getting to that age when the two of them can each play and have enough direction from us to be “good” boys (or at least have the potential to be).
So I’m happy. I’m just happy that we could be at a social gathering, that I could talk to a few people without interruption, that my boys played by themselves a little without any controversy or tears, and that my husband was so helpful. It may not seem like much to some but to me, it was a monumental evening. It’s the little things that make me happy these days.Read More
I felt really free today. One day of vacation with my husband at a hotel in a fun city. We’re going back home tomorrow. One day is perfect! I could enjoy it without guilt. We stayed late at dinner with friends. In fact, we talked until after MIDNIGHT, which is way later than our usual bedtime!
I didn’t think once about what time it was or about having to rush home to relieve the babysitter. But I’m also so happy to go back tomorrow to see the kids. I think that long vacations are totally over rated. One good day is much better than a full week of vacation.
There are all these great benefits to having a good one day “power” vacation (like a power lunch but longer).
1) It’s so much cheaper than a long vacation.
2) You can splurge on whatever you want to do (again because it’s probably going to be cheaper than if you had stayed longer).
3) It’s less time away from your kids…ergo less guilt and MORE fun.
4) Because you know it’s going to end soon, you savor each moment: Every ray of sunshine, every bite of delicious food, every step of a casual walk, every deep relaxed breath. And finally, one day means less packing, less carrying, and less unpacking!Read More
Flying back from our vacation today was quit a hectic affair. With a toddler and a lap child in tow, we trekked through the jungle that is the airport and somehow made it through our flights. There were numerous ups and downs as you might expect on an all day traveling extravaganza with kids but one moment stood out for me. There was a woman sitting in front of us that was very agitated during the flight. She was frustrated with the person sitting in her row that kept going to the bathroom and she made sure all of us around her knew it. She was fidgeting constantly and seemed almost like she was anxious about the whole notion of being on an airplane.
At one point towards the end of the flight, she stood up, turned around and made a comment about one of my kids that wasn’t very nice. Instead of getting upset, I just took my son, who had been asleep most of the flight, and started quietly reading him a book. It was very unlike me (to be calm when encountering anger directed straight at me) but I just felt so zen about the whole thing.Read More