It Takes a Village

We've all heard the phrase, "It takes a village to raise a child".  It's been thrown around for quite a few years now, started way back when by (I believe) Hillary Clinton.  Never has this been more true than for my child, Jayson. 

Every village has a leader, so I guess Erik and I qualify for that position in Jayson's life.  We aren't perfect by any means (most leaders aren't), but we have good intentions and do our very best to guide Jayson.  It's not easy.  There are days when the responsibility is overwhelming and the problems seem insurmountable.  That's when I'm so very grateful for the other villagers in Jayson's life. 

Jayson's school is full of helpful villagers.  I can't even begin to list all them and how they help and shape him - but here's just a few:  It's his third grade teacher, who spends a ton of extra time figuring out how he learns best, and then calls me to help put plans into place for him.  This same teacher calls me every once in awhile, giddy with excitement, when Jayson does well.  I know she's a big cheerleader for him and that warms my heart.  It's also the aide, who patiently redirects him when his attention wanders, and takes all his idiosyncrasies in stride.  This same woman is trying desperately to put herself out of a job by making him more independent and responsible for his own organization.  It's the speech pathologist and social worker, who see Jayson every week and continue to work on his social skills, grabbing me every chance they get in the school hallway to tell me how much they love spending time with him.  It's the principal, who has sat in on nearly every IEP meeting with me and my husband, truly doing her best to make sure he gets all the supports he needs, and also stepping in when she thinks he's being bullied.  It's the library workers, who always have a smile for him and treat him so kindly.  It's the occupational therapist, who started on just as a consult, but thought perhaps there was something more she could do for Jayson so she asked my permission to test him and then decided to take him on for more in depth therapy - mind you, her schedule of students was already packed to the gills.  It's the gym teacher who brought the Wii to school and introduced Jayson to "Just Dance", bringing happiness to his life and some wiggle in his booty.  It's the music teacher, who gave him a tryout for a speaking role in the concert (he didn't get it this year, but maybe next year).  It's all the teachers and aides in the past who have cheered him on and always have a smile for him in the halls.  And it's the special kids who go out of their way for Jayson, asking the teacher if they can be his partner or help him when he has trouble.  Even better, it's the kids who don't go out of their way for Jayson - they just treat him like any other normal third grader, talking about sports or playing tag or eating lunch with him. 

And there's plenty of villagers to be found outside of school.  There's his karate Sensei, a large man who could kill me with his thumbs, who has taught Jayson karate since he was 5 years old.  He has the patience of a saint and has worked absolute miracles with Jayson's focusing skills.  It's the football coach that knew right away that Jayson wasn't going to be a star player, but made sure he had a terrific experience at every practice and game.  It's Erik's friend, Tyler, who owns deer hunting land down state, and often invites Erik and Jayson down for some "guy time", know how much  Jayson LOVES climbing into the deer blinds and target shooting with bb guns.  It's everyone at our church, who have known Jayson since he was born, and have accepted him without judgement, providing him with such a comfortable environment that he FINALLY has started going to Sunday school and has even shown interest in taking his First Communion.  It's the families of all the girls on my daughter's skating team, who see him at the rink and even stay overnight with him at competitions, who readily accept him and never give him strange looks.  It's their sons, who swim with him at the hotels we stay at, and provide such wonderful social models.  It's my good friends, some of whom understand better than others what it's like to struggle with a child who is "different", who make him AND me feel relaxed and accepted.  It's my neighbor's son, a high schooler, who knows Jayson idolizes him and always takes time out of his very busy schedule to spend time with him, or just say hello.  Actually, it's all three of my neighbor's kids, who have never given off the vibe that they don't want him around - they always include him and accept him.  And it's my family, who through the years have supported him and rooted for him at every single turn.  I used to get frustrated with my family, who used to insist on how normal Jayson was.  I always wanted to scream "No!! Stop pretending like everything is OK!!".  But now I'm so very grateful for their attitudes.  I never have to worry about what Jayson will say (or not say), or do (or not do) around my family.  They always provide unconditional acceptance. 

I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of villagers, but Jayson is so blessed to have every single one of them in his life.  It is because of them that he is doing so well, and growing up to be such a neat boy.  Jayson's village is raising him up and guiding him well.  There have been (and will be) many times when some villagers try to bring Jayson down.  But thankfully those villagers are in the minority, vastly outnumbered by those who go out of their way to make him succeed. 

And let's not forget that we are ALL villagers in each others lives.  Our actions and words have profound effects on everyone around us. What kind of citizens do we want to be? Let's be productive ones.  Let's all do our best to raise each other up, instead of tearing each other down.  It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes all kinds to make a village.  Let's make our villages great ones. 

My Own Parenting Gut Check...

As many of my friends know, my family has eagerly been awaiting the birth of my sister's second baby girl.  Thanks to a well-timed day off from school, the kids and I were able to travel to Iowa Monday night and Tuesday and be there for the birth of little Betsy Lou.  In fact, Jayson was the third family member to hold her, after her Mom and Dad.  Betsy is happy and healthy and my sister can finally get on the road to recovery, since pregnancy was not very nice to her body this time around.  There is nothing like a new baby.  You sit there in the hospital and behold this little miracle, marveling at the fact that just hours ago she was curled up inside another human being.  You ogle at every yawn, every little grunt, every little peek of the eyes.  New babies hold so much hope and promise because you truly have before you a blank slate.  To put it more bluntly - you haven't had a chance to screw them up yet.  

I think I had about 3 hours after Katy was born where I could have been considered a perfect parent.  I was still a little shell shocked, but managed to handle my first nursing feeding with aplomb.  I changed her first poopy diaper like a pro, snuggled with her for awhile, and then sent her off to the nursery so they could clean her off, run some tests, and do whatever else they do in there.  By the time they brought her back to me later that evening I was already a complete mess.  I was a panicked new mom who became anxious over EVERYTHING.  I worried about sleep schedule, feeding schedule and getting enough bonding time - mind you, I worried incessantly about this while STILL IN THE HOSPITAL! You can only imagine my anxiety level when I brought her home.  Fast forward nearly 4 years and I remember thinking things would be different when Jayson was born.  I knew what to do with a new baby so the second time around would go smoothly, right? Wrong.  I was as panicked as ever, this time worrying not only about the new baby's schedule, but how I was going to turn little Katy's life upside down.  In my early years as a parent, I truly did not have any confidence in myself.  I loved my children more than anything, but was convinced I was doing a terrible job and ruining them every step of the way. 

Ironically, it has been my more challenging child that has helped me gain a bit more confidence in my parenting.  Yes he has autism, and yes he has social struggles, but many of the decisions Erik and I have made in parenting him have really paid off.  We keep his home a calm place, don't overload him with too much madness, keep his routines as normal as possible, instill in him a strong school work ethic, introduce new experiences like sports and camp, and carefully surround him with nice kids who can be good social models and treat him kindly.  At nearly 8 1/2 years old, Jayson is doing better than I ever though he would.  I still wish I could sit and have deeper and more meaningful conversations with him, but perhaps that will come with time.  I think our genuine love and acceptance of Jayson has been the best parenting strategy. 

Even more ironically, it is the OTHER child - the straight A, sweet, caring, kind, helpful daughter that most often causes me to have some parenting gut checks.  On the surface, Katy makes me look like a complete parenting success.  She is smart, and very successful in school.  She is sweet and shy and virtually never sasses me or acts inappropriately.  But I look at her and see a very big way my parenting has negatively impacted her - Katy lacks confidence in herself and is an incessant worrier - everything makes her anxious.  I truly believe she got that vibe from me from a very early age.  My anxiousness made her anxious.  My worrying caused her to worry.  My lack of confidence in me caused her to doubt herself.

 I think I always knew this in the back of my mind, but I really thought a lot about it on the drive home from Iowa yesterday.  Fresh off our hospital visit and snuggles with her new baby cousin, Katy asked me all kinds of questions about what it was like when she was born and what it's like to be a new mom.  I told her about all the magic and wonder, but also admitted to her my struggles.  As I told her how anxious and worried I was I admitted that I now feel like a fool for doubting myself so much.  I told her how I wished I had believed in myself more.  And then I turned it around and told her that I wanted HER to believe in herself more.  I implored her not to make my same mistakes.  I tried to show her that a lot of her anxiousness stems from me, which in turn should make it easier for her to disown.  It was a good conversation, and another example of how admitting and examining our own faults makes us stronger and better. 

So I encourage everyone to do the occasional "gut check".  Are there things you are doing (or not doing) as a parent that you know might affect your kids?  It's more than OK if there are - none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes.  But the biggest mistake of them all is ignoring it and never admitting it. Let's teach our kids that gut checks are a good way to recalibrate yourself, and that you are never too old face mistakes.  After you do that, go and look at pictures of my new niece.  She's adorable...

If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...

Since starting this blog about a year ago I have tried to put up 2 posts a month.  I usually have a running list in my head of topics I want to cover and there is enough excitement in my life with 2 school age children that new topics usually pop into my head all the time.

Well, I must be in some kind of a funk this month because every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post I find myself wanting to write a rant.  I'm steaming about a few things right now and was considering airing it all out on the blog.  After all, many bloggers do this and it's probably pretty cathartic.  I have gone on mini-rants before, but the things bothering me right now are a little too personal.  I'm not sure a public blog is the place to air that out.  Sure this blog has been a great place for me to explore some of the big life questions I've wrestled with while turning 40.  But perhaps one thing I've learned is when to shut my mouth.

Consider it shut for this month.  I'm going to work on my anger, focus on the (many) positive things going on right now, and save my ranting for a more appropriate audience.  Perhaps my next blog topic will be on something much less controversial - like politics.

Happy October, everyone. 

Half Crazy: A Race Report, and Lessons Learned...

This past weekend my four friends and I ran the Quad Cities Half Marathon.  I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had picked the race back in May because it took place in the home town of one of the girls, and also had the best free swag I've ever seen in a goodie bag (a shirt, running gloves, AND a cool fuel belt??? JACKPOT).  We spent the entire summer training together and all those early mornings had really paid off.  We were all much faster and stronger than we were just 6 months ago.  Many of us were THIS CLOSE to breaking the 2 hour mark.  All we needed was great weather, some race adrenaline, and a flat course.

Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad.  We drove the course the night before and checked out possible hills.  I'm ashamed to say some curse words came out of my mouth as we looked at the first 4 miles.  The hills were pretty imposing to me and, since I never train on hills, I tempered my expectations for a finish time and focused on our fun meal out.  We all had a nice carby dinner at Noodles and Company and then went shopping for (what else?) more running clothes.  The temperatures looked to be very cold in the morning so we wanted to be prepared with warmer gear.  After a decent night's rest, we woke up at 5:00 and started getting ready.  We wanted to get to the starting line early to find the 2 hour pacer guy.  Basically, if you stuck with the pacer runner, you would be guaranteed to finish in under 2 hours.

The 2 hour pacer guy was named Kevin - he was a spry young kid in his 20's (ah, youth - 2 hours was probably slumming it for him).  I introduced myself to him, but warned him that I might not be able to keep up.  He was totally friendly and seemed like he would have been a lovely guy to run a race with.  Unfortunately, all I saw was the back of Kevin's head as he sprinted up the first hill like it was a curb.  Ugh. Well, goodbye Kevin and goodbye sub 2 hours (or so I thought).   I took the first 4 miles easy, going slowly up and down each hill, as to not kill my knees and quad muscles.   I wasn't wearing my Garmin watch because I've had much better success just listening to my body and figuring out what it can handle.  My friend Julie ran with me for much of the first 9 miles or so, but after a few miles she refused to tell me our pace.  I'm so glad she did that because I did so much better not knowing.

After 4 miles the course flattened out considerably.  I was so glad I had taken those hills easy because I felt really good by mile 6.  I put on my headphones, smiled at Julie (who was rocking that course in her Vibram toe shoes!), and decided it was time to run my own race.  I knew I was going faster with each passing mile, but still had no idea what my pace was or what my finish time would be.  After one last water break at mile 10, I steeled myself for the last 3 miles of the race.  As I approached mile 11 1/2 I noticed a water station but knew I didn't need it.  I was moving over to the left to give the other runners room, when low and behold, I saw a very familiar face holding a very familiar sign.  It was Kevin.  I had caught up to, and was going to pass, the 2 hour pacer guy.  I screamed his name at the top of my lungs "KKKEEEVVVIIINNN!!!!" and blew past him.  He cheered me on and said "Go Go! You can do it!!".  At that point I knew I had a sub two finish in my grasp.  Those last 2 1/2 miles were very fast and very, very hard.  But as I ran down that last hill (Really? A hill at mile 13? Who does that? ) and turned the corner towards the finish line, I gave it every last thing I had in me.  I saw the clock ahead of me hit 1:59:30 so I broke out in a full on sprint and crossed at 1:59:58.  I had forgotten that my chip time would be less because it took a minute to even reach the starting line.  My official  finish time was 1:58:46.  I had done it.  My other friend set a PR with a 1:55 finish time, and yet another friend beat her last half marathon time by TWENTY minutes, crossing at 2:04.  Quite an accomplishment.

My celebration was short lived, however.  One of the girls in my group ended up in the medical tent and needed some serious attention.   Thank goodness one of our friends came upon her right before the finish and helped her.  While we sat in the medical area with her, I reflected on the race and some of the lighthearted and more serious lessons I learned while running the Quad Cities Half: 

1.  Friends rock  - part of what I've come to love about my running is the friendships that have been created and cemented.  All 5 of us run our long runs together and we usually pair up with someone during the week for the shorter runs.  We are a goofy bunch that share at least one thing in common, whether it be our daughters on the skating team, our sons on the autism spectrum, or our love of knitting.  We spent most of the weekend laughing and eating - what's better than that? I adore all these ladies and feel grateful that they want to hang with me!

2.  Training pays off- All those early morning summer runs, all those miles that I pushed the pace just a little bit, all the changes I made with my eating - it paid off in spades.  I wasn't sure I could do a sub 2 race, and in fact my fastest training run had me on pace to finish at 2:03.  But the training prepared my body and the adrenaline of race day pushed me just one last bit further.  Trust the training!

3.  But things can go wrong even if you do everything right. Unfortunately, some times you can train and train and then the unforeseen happens.  Perhaps you turn your ankle the day before the race.  Perhaps you come down with stomach flu.  In the case of my friend, we think an allergy medicine she took the night before may have dehydrated her more than she realized, causing her to break down on the course.  The scariest illustration of this lesson came while we were in the medical room with our friend.  While we sat and kept her company, they wheeled in a 24 year old woman who's heart had stopped beating.  While they performed CPR and literally shocked her with paddles, her friend was sobbing at her side and telling the doctors that they had trained and eaten well the day before. Their 12 miler just 2 weeks before had gone perfectly. She had never had any health problems before that day.  24 years old.  I don't even know what ended up happening to that poor girl.  Treasure your health and be grateful for every run that your body allows you to do safely.  Be smart and take care of yourself the very best you can, and pray that nothing else goes wrong.   

4.  Running is a gift. Now I don't mean that I'm gifted at running.  Quite the contrary, actually.  I just look back at the last 2 years and realize all the joy I have found in something I never thought I could do.  While I ran along the Mississippi river this weekend I soaked in all the beauty of my surroundings.  I saw people on the course that inspired the heck out of me - whether it was the senior citizen who I literally COULD NOT CATCH the entire race, or the very overweight man who kept going on his leg of the marathon relay, even though he was clearly struggling, or my one of my very own friends, who carried our other friend across the line.  There is a lot of humanity in running, and there is so much beauty to be found.  I am grateful my body can do this right now, and hope it will continue for many years to come. 

I'll carry these lessons with me into my next running journey.  Training for marathon #2 begins December 11. The Road Whorriers will be running the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan on April 13.  Bring it!!

The End of an Era...

My younger sister is due with her second child in about 6 weeks.  It's been fun listening to her pregnancy stories and talking about the new baby that's on the way.  She came to visit with her 15th month old over the summer and Erik and I had a blast watching little Ellis and remembering what our kids were like at that age.  I have to say it made me wistful. I remember the magic of being pregnant and all the excitement that came with it.  There is a sense of endless possibilities, as you dream about what your child will be like and what he or she will become, and what your family will grow to be like.  Then they are born and you brave the initial months of sleepless nights and utter exhaustion and are rewarded with sweet smiles, cuddles, and then first words, first steps, and the joy of watching your child figure out the world during the toddler years and crack you up during the pre school years.  For many of us, we are blessed to have more than one child and can enjoy these phases more than once. 

After Jayson was born I didn't think I would have any more but I certainly kept the option open.  I was only 32 years of age and felt like I had all the time in the world.  By the time he was 3 and 4 years old and the full extent of his special needs began to hit us, I mentally closed the door on more children for good.  I simply didn't think I could ever handle another child's needs on top of Jayson's (and Katy's).  Fast forward 4 more years and not only are Katy and Jayson doing pretty well, but both just swooned over having their baby cousin Ellis come to stay.  One day, Jayson asked, "Mom, when are you going to have another baby so I can be a big brother?".  I kind of brushed off his comment until later that night when Erik, after watching Ellis toddle around the house, commented "I know it's just crazy talk but don't you think it would be fun to go back to the circus one more time? Heck, we'd probably be better at it now and do a great job."  He was only half serious, but it begged the question:  Are Erik and I really ready to say a permanent goodbye to that stage of parenthood?

It seems like it would be an easy decision, but anything that permanent is hard to swallow.  No more babies, EVER?  No more toothless smiles, funny toddler sayings, first days of preschool - EVER?  It's a hard thing to say goodbye to because it's such a magical time.  But I'm finding that there is a heck of a lot of magic in the new phase of parenthood (later childhood and adolescence) as well.  I find myself marveling at Katy now just as often as I did when she was 2.  I love watching how she works through things in her head, how she handles friendships, how she finds her sense of humor, and how she slowly begins to shape her own identity.  It's a marvel to behold.  And I seem to have blinked and missed something because somehow my son seems to be growing up as well.  He spends just as much time telling me he wants to do things by himself ("Don't help me, Mom!") as he does asking me for snacks (he still can't slice up his own apples).  He still struggles tremendously with social issues, but sometimes I catch just a little glimpse of what he's going to be like when he gets a little older and it's truly exciting.  And every new experience gobsmacks me - whether it's joining a football team, or telling me with absolute certainty that he will be going to sleepaway camp in Michigan with Katy this summer.  He transitioned into 3rd grade with nary a problem and seems to be handling his busier than usual schedule with ease.  I'm having a heck of a good time watching both my kids figure it all out. 

And the bonus? It's been lovely to realize that this new phase for the children translates into a new phase for my marriage.  We have a little more freedom and flexibility than we've had for the last 12 years.  Our date nights of pizza and a rented movie were great, but it's even nicer to enjoy our increasing opportunities for dates outside the walls of our house.  Thankfully, we still really enjoy each others company after all these years.  The kids keep us busy, but it's a different kind of busy. And I think Erik and I have always done a good job of keeping our marriage at the center of things.

So I will delight in the birth of my new niece, and continue to crack up over Ellis's toddler escapades - but only as an Aunt.  In my own family, it's time to squarely plant my feet in the next stage of life.  Yet another reason I'm really loving my 40's!

Hitting My Stride

So I've been working hard on changing my running form lately.  Some of you may have seen me around town wearing these absolutely ridiculous looking Vibram shoes (they look like gloves for your feet - with toes and everything.  Gross.).  I've been wearing them to strengthen my calf muscles and achilles tendons and to start forcing me to land on the balls of my feet when I run and walk.  You see, most of us who have been wearing supportive and cushiony shoes our whole lives have developed a heel to toe running gait.  Over time, this puts tremendous stress on your knees and hips and promotes injury.  Apparently, striking the pavement with your forefoot first is what your body wants to do naturally.  By developing a mid foot strike, I will most likely greatly reduce my aches and pains and be able to continue running injury free for a good, long time (after all, I have a good shot of winning my age group in a marathon some day if I'm the only 80 year old that signed up!).

But you know what? It's hard to change my habits.  I've been running in my beloved Brooks Glycerins with all their cushioned glory for almost a year now.  They carried me through a 1/2 marathon, 500 miles of marathon training, the marathon itself, and most of my summer running.  I've felt comfortable with my heel to toe running form and I've been pretty successful and injury free, so why change?  If it aint broke, don't fix it, right??

But therein lies the problem.  Sometimes we don't know things are broken until it's too late.  We develop habits and routines in life that carry us through "just fine" and we continue to muddle through day after day, year after year.  We do it with our eating, our parenting, our friendships, our jobs, our spending habits, our interactions with others, our political views, and our world views.  We can go on for years believing that everything is working for us just fine, ignoring those tiny little twinges of discomfort that pop up in the background.  Then we begin to hear alternative ways of doing things, and of thinking about things and we put our hands over our ears and say "No thanks, I have it all figured out!" And we refuse to even listen to other ideas - because it's so hard to even consider the fact that we might be "doing it wrong". 

Well I"m not afraid to listen to other ideas and theories.  And at 40 years old I'm confident enough in myself to discern which ideas are worth consideration and which ideas are absolute bunk.  But we are missing out on personal growth if we keep putting our hands over our ears, blocking out the rest of the world, and never even considering the viewpoints of others.  I'm sure I'll see a lot of this play out on Facebook as the fall Presidential election gets closer. 

I remember seeing a barefoot runner at my first half marathon.  I thought this girl was an absolute loon as she patiently explained to me why running barefoot was actually better for your body.  I dismissed her almost immediately and inwardly rolled my eyes.  Now almost a year later I'm warming to the ideas behind barefoot running and going shopping for my first pair of minimalist running shoes (because hell will literally freeze over before you see me out there in actual bare feet. Ugh!).  You see? It's never too late to consider ideas different from your own.  And who knows? You may just end up in better shape for it.  So in the mean time I'll continue to work on the new running form, and continue to work on hitting my stride - both on the road and off of it...

Thank You, Summer....

As usual, I am completely surprised when August hits and I have to come to terms with the fact that my kids will be starting school in a short amount of time (2nd week of August, really???).  Admittedly, the school supply shopping is done, backpacks are ready, and nighttime bedtime routines are already being put into place.  But I still don't feel ready.  The start of a new school year is always tricky in my family, as Jayson is forced into a major transition - never a smooth thing for him.  This year will be especially hard since Katy is off to Middle School and thus Jayson will have no one watching out for him on the bus or in the hallways of elementary school.  He will truly be on his own this year, and while I'm thankful for the handful of kids I've handpicked to be his safety net in his class, I'm not totally convinced this year will go smoothly for him socially.  We shall see...
So before I send Jayson back into the lions den and Katy into a whole new world, I wanted to take a minute and reflect on what was a wonderful summer.  Here is my list of all I am thankful for...

1.  Thank you, summer, for all our little mini trips.  Strands couldn't budget in a big family vacation this year so we are thankful for the little side trips we were able to take to Sheboygan to visit my friend Holly and pick strawberries, and to Iowa to visit my sister and celebrate baby Ellis's first birthday.  We are also thankful for our Great America trip, which is always a big hit every year.

2.  Thank you, summer, for new opportunities.  Katy conquered overnight camp and Jayson had a blast at day camp.  Jayson also conquered football conditioning, which was certainly a new experience!

3.  Thank you, summer, for baseball.  I can't begin to express my gratefulness at the new bonding opportunities I've had with my son this summer over baseball.  Our trip to Wrigley for Jay's first Cubs game is one of the highlights of my life.

4.  Thank you, summer for new friends.  I was so worried that Jayson would be alone this summer but that was far from the case.  He enjoyed endless playdates with the nicest boys.  I'm so very grateful that we've found some boys who accept Jayson and all his issues.  I'm also thankful for old friends.  Our across the street neighbors are a continual source of support for our whole family.  What a blessing. 

5.  Thank you, summer, for heat.  Our pool has never been busier, and more refreshing.

6.  Thank you, summer, for early morning runs.  My core group of 4 running friends has been a sanity saver all summer.  I've cherished each and every 5:30 AM meeting this summer - even in the heat.  Bring on the next race in September!!

7.  Thank you, summer, for helping my daughter grow.  This has been an instrumental summer for my 11 year old.  She has had a wonderful time with friends new and old, and has really started to come into her own.  She is as ready for Middle School as she'll ever be!

8.  Thank you, summer, for all the happiness radiating from my children.  They have both enjoyed themselves immensely - and I can't ask for anything more than that.

9.  Thank you, summer, for new opportunities for my husband.  A brand new job and an adventurous missions trip to Haiti certainly kept him on his toes.

10.  And finally, thank you, summer, for just being there.  These times with our children are fleeting.  I will blink and soon summer will mean nothing because my kids will be grown and there will be no need to mark the time in between school years.  I am so grateful that, for now, summer vacation still means something.

Hope everyone had as nice of a summer as the Strands did.  Say a prayer for a successful school year for my monkeys.  Let my stress begin...

Hey Chicago, What Do You Say???

One of the more frustrating aspects of raising a child on the autism spectrum is putting up with their obsessions.  Many spectrum children fixate on something and can't seem to get away from talking about anything else.  In the past, we have had to deal with Jayson's obsessions with clock times, Max and Ruby (Lord help me that was a brutal one), Transformers, and Spongebob.  The cartoon obsessions are especially annoying because they tend to also produce what is referred to as "scripted speech", where Jayson really only talks to us using lines from the TV shows or movies he is watching.  This can get frustrating for his peers, who can't understand why he says the same things over and over again, but it is especially frustrating for me since I usually have no frame of reference for, or any remote interest in, whatever he is obsessing over. 

Until now.  You see, Jayson has a new obsession that has been gaining power for the last few months.  Ironically, it's also an obsession that consumed his own mother way back when she was 12 years old.  My son has fallen head over heels in love with the Chicago Cubs and all things baseball.  Now I don't have autism spectrum disorder, but I did catch Cubs fever back in 1984.  I was a scrawny and geeky girl who got swept away in all the excitement of the 1984 team.  I never missed a game and soon had memorized batting averages for all my favorite players like Jody Davis, Ryne Sandberg, and Bobby Dernier.  All my spare change would go into my pocket and I would ride my bike all over town to different stores to buy baseball cards.  At any given time I could tell you the MLB standings for both the American and National League teams, and knew the difference between a curve ball, slider, fastball, and breaking ball.  And you know what? I drove everyone around me absolutely batty (no pun intended).

The obsession stuck around for quite awhile, at various levels of severity.  My heart was broken by that 1984 team (I still hate you, Steve Garvey and the rest of you stupid San Diego Padres), and later by that 1989 team (still love you, though, Mark Grace).  But I was growing older and my life was full of other activities such as college and my career and so I kept my love of the Cubs, but dialed back the obsession.  In 2003 I let a little bit creep back since I was CONVINCED that was "our year".  Well everyone knows the end of that story (I'm talking to you, Bartman) and the devastating, yet classic, collapse of our World Series hopes and dreams.  After that, I decided for the sake of my sanity, to mentally detach from the Chicago Cubs.  I barely followed them for the next 9 years.  Until this year.  With Jayson's latest obsession has come a reawakening of my own.  And for one of  the first times, I feel a REAL connection to my son.  We can talk endlessly about baseball terms, players, team standings, etc. and I don't have to feign enthusiasm.  The first thing we do every morning is check the Cubs home page for video highlights and we watch them together with equal delight.

And this past weekend brought the most exciting event we've had in some time - Jayson's first trip to Wrigley Field.  As we approached the ballpark on Clark Street I said to Jayson "There it is!" and I watched as his eyes got as big as saucers.  I have VERY vivid memories of my first game at Wrigley Field (left field bleachers, Steve Trout was pitching), and now I have a wonderful shared memory of Jayson's first game (left field terrace, Ryan Dempster pitching).  I will never forget his face as he not only saw the field for the first time, but even got to walk down onto it and see the ballplayers.  I will never forget the joyful reaction he had when Ryan Dempster emerged to warm up in the bullpen.  I will cherish how excited he became as each player came out - "Mom!! There he is!! Starlin Castro!! Mom!!!!! It's Anthony Rizzo!! Look!!! There's Darwin Barney!!!! It's Geovany Soto!!!!" and on and on and on.  He almost leaped out of his seat when Dempster and Johnson successfully bunted (his favorite baseball play) and got absolutely giddy as the seventh inning approached and we all stood up to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" (we had been practicing for weeks...)  He watched every pitch and every play intently, and so did I.  And when the Cubs won on a double play in the ninth inning, I watched him get overcome with emotion as he sang "Go Cubs Go" with 38,000 other fans, and realized that they really did raise a "W" flag every time the Cubs were victorious.  I think it might have been one of the greatest days of his life - I know it ranks highly as one of mine.

So I will cherish this latest obsession of Jayson's and hope it sticks around for awhile.  I am enjoying this wonderful connection we have together and I'm thankful that my 12 year old self was smart enough to become nutty over something that would make me a better mother to a very special boy 28 years later.  Autism is a great example of life throwing you a curveball.  But sometimes, you hit those curveballs right out of the park.  Home Run, indeed.

A Most Disturbing Trend...

A few weeks ago Katy and her friend watched a movie at our house called "CyberBully".  It was a very realistic and fairly graphic depiction of how bad bullying can get when you can hide behind a computer screen and say whatever you want.  Katy isn't on Facebook but she does have an iPod and I do let her go on Instagram, where she mainly stays connected with girls on her ice skating team.  We have had some talks about why you don't let people follow you if they don't know you, and we've also discussed many times that whatever you put online can be seen by many more people than you may think (even if you eventually delete them - someone has probably already seen it).  I've pointed out stupid things people have posted on Facebook so she can see firsthand the impression others can have of you by what you post online.  While I'd love to keep Katy in a bubble forever, the truth is that she is going to grow up in an online world that connects through social media.  I'd rather teach her how to use it responsibly than stick my head in the sand and hope she uses a slate and abacus for the rest of her life.

So needless to say, I've been trying to find teachable moments regarding social media for her and I to discuss.  Low and behold, I stumbled across something that made my skin crawl, my blood boil, and my heart break.  Apparently kids think it's a good idea to post pictures of themselves and then ask the online world if they think they are pretty/handsome.  Since most kids decide to friend everyone who requests them (really, do you have 2000 friends? I think not...) they get a ton of responses, most of them crude, disrespectful, and downright demeaning.  These pictures and comments then get shared all over the internet so the entire world can witness a young girl or boy get their self esteem totally trampled on.  I have personally read at least 10 different comment threads on 10 different pictures that showed up on MY Facebook news ticker in the last 3 hours.  I'm not even friends with that many teenagers, and the teens I am friends with are basically good kids!  It's astounding how fast these threads spread beyond teen's immediate social circle.  

Seriously, what the heck people??  Why do kids feel the need to subject themselves to this? What can we do about it, other than talk to our own children and hope they don't follow along with the crowd? Social media is here to stay, but we parents better figure out a way to teach our kids to be more responsible.  Of course, that may be impossible considering some of the online behavior I've witnessed from adults.  Just go to any news article and read the comment thread below it.  People get pretty brave when they can hide behind an anonymous screen name.  I love Facebook, and I love the internet, but I also love my self esteem and the self esteem of my children.  Let's hope this disturbing trend bites the dust sooner rather than later - for the sake of our children and ourselves...

No More GPS...

Most of us can admit we are addicted to our gadgets.  Whether it is a cell phone, or an iPod, or a laptop, our society is quickly becoming very tethered to our technology.  We feel naked and lost without it, even going so far to think we cannot function without being plugged in.  I admit I'm guilty of this sometimes.  Erik got me an iPhone not too long ago and I have fallen in love with it.  How can you not love a gadget that will refer to you as "Queen of England"? (Thanks, Siri!).

When I was marathon training I was completely addicted to my Garmin GPS watch.  I would religiously watch my pace and wouldn't dare go too fast (even if I felt I could), lest I injure myself.  I would set the watch to beep at certain intervals so I could stop and refuel and would adhere to those beeps like my life depended on it.  I truly could not run without the watch.  After the marathon was finished I decided to scale back the intensity of my running routine.  I'm still going 4 days a week, but I keep the mileage between 20 and 25 miles so as not to pound my poor body into oblivion.  I also decided to take the pressure off myself by putting away my Garmin watch, and set off on my runs "blind", letting my body dictate the pace it could handle.  After a few weeks of running without the watch a funny thing began to happen - I got better.  That's right, I became a better runner without the technology.  I'm able to run longer in between water breaks, and my pace has gotten faster and faster.  Without the watch warning me to slow down, I've shaved nearly 10 minutes off my 10 mile run time - and I feel fantastic.  It is freeing to trust my own instincts and realize that my body and mind know what they are doing. 

So that got me thinking.  When I stopped relying on the watch to tell me what to do and relied on my own instinct, I got faster and stronger.  What if I finally started to apply this to other areas of my life?  For nearly 40 years I have sought out the opinions of others on just about every subject.  I have compared my parenting styles and life choices to those around me, and always feared I was "doing it wrong", looking to others to show me what to do.  But in the past year I have realized that I'm doing just fine, thank you.  I'm starting to have more confidence in my decisions, even when they are radically different from those around me.  You see, I don't need our culture's GPS to show me where to go.  I feel good knowing that my heart and mind have it's own directional system, and I'm relying on it more and more.  And you know what? It's just as freeing as my running has become.  And it's making me just as strong and just as healthy.  Sure I'll make some wrong decisions, but that's part of life and part of learning how to grow. 

So trust your instincts, folks.  Deep down you probably know the right answers to the questions you are asking yourself.  Don't be afraid if they don't match the rest of the world's GPS.  Sometimes, all that technology isn't all it's cracked up to be. Except for Siri, of course.  She's just too much fun!   See you out there on road of life...

A Letter to my Son

A few months ago I wrote a blog post in the form of a letter to my daughter. While I ended up showing it to her, it was more of a way to help me clarify some things she was struggling with and figure out how to help her through them.  This Saturday my son Jayson turns 8 years old.  I thought this would be a great time to write a letter to him.  However, this one probably won't be shared with him, and even if it was, he would probably have a very hard time comprehending it.  After all, one of the cruelest things Autism takes away from an individual is their ability to have deep, emotional conversations with others.  While this letter may be one sided, it is as heartfelt as the one written to his sister.  And while it is addressed to him, I invite everyone to read it.  The more people understand what life is like for Jayson, the more people will hopefully open up their hearts a bit more, and have a little more grace and patience.  For him, grace and patience from others might be the best birthday gift of all...

Dear Jayson,

I simply cannot believe 8 years have gone by since you were born.  It has been the largest roller coaster ride of my life - filled with joy, sheer terror, excitement, anticipation, and, yes, some nausea.  I think back to what a happy and silly little toddler you were and my heart fills with joy.  Then I think back to the "dark days" when we began to recognize your struggles and finally put a name to them, and my heart fills with sadness.  But many years have passed since those dark days.  Quite honestly, if anyone would have asked me back then if I thought you would be like you are today I would have sadly said they were crazy.  I simply could not imagine that things would have gotten better.

But they have.  They HAVE gotten better.  And I couldn't be more proud of all you have accomplished in 8 years.  Things other 8 year olds and their parents simply take for granted.  With you, I take NOTHING for granted.  And while there are days when my heart breaks into a million pieces, those days are fewer and farther between.  But I recognize the struggles you have and know that you face some serious challenges as you get older.  Here are some pieces of advice:

1.  It's more than OK to be a little different.  It's taken me 40 years to realize that the bill of goods our culture tries to sell you is a crock of hooey.  Don't worry about fitting into everyone else's mold of "normal".  It's OK if you are quirky and odd and into your obsessions.  Chances are, someday you will find a group of kids that are also odd and quirky and you can flourish with them.  I'm pretty sure that's what Bill Gates did.

2.  Know your limitations.  You and I haven't had "the talk" yet.  I know we haven't discussed the big A word and put a name and label on your behavior.  That day is fast approaching, though.  We have, however, talked at length about how your brain is "different".  We have talked about why it's so hard for you when you get upset, why it's hard when you don't understand jokes that everyone else thinks is funny, and why it's not a good idea to talk about the same things over and over again with other people.  I've told you that your brain might take longer to understand what you've read in school and that you might not always understand how others are feeling.  As you get older, the important thing is to remember what your struggles are, and to try and come up with some strategies to cope.  We've already started with strategies on what to do when other kids hurt your feelings.  It's going to be my job to come up with more strategies and your job to learn them and make them a part of your life.

3.  Don't bother with mean kids.  I have watched you with a broken heart this year get manipulated and made fun of by others.  You are often too naive to even realize it is happening, but I notice it and I hate it.  But I can't hover over you forever so you are going to have to figure out who the good kids are on your own.  I"m so grateful you've managed to make some new friends this year who seem to be a great match for you.  Always remember that you don't have to be the most popular kid (those kids are often popular for the wrong reasons), you just have to find a few good friends that you are comfortable with.  But also realize that it's hard to be your friend, and takes a pretty special kid to put up with you sometimes.  You are a bit rigid with your thinking and often want to do things ONLY ONE WAY!! You also have a tendency to talk about the same things over and over again.  While I don't mind listening to the teams in the American League for the 30th time, other kids get bored.  Let's work on that one a little bit, shall we?  But I sincerely hope that kids learn to give you some grace, because you are a hell of a sweet kid and you can be an absolute riot sometimes.  My biggest prayer for you is that you find a nice group of friends (and a wife, someday, but let's not get ahead of ourselves...).

4.  Take some breaks.  I know you get overwhelmed easily.  I know when you get tired, or you have to socialize a lot, or have to concentrate really hard, it can overtax your brain.  It's OK to take some breaks and have your "alone time".  And if others don't understand that, too bad.  As your mom, I have learned to say "no" to things that will bring too much chaos into our days.  You are allowed to do the same. 

5.  Keep up your good habits.  Jayson, you are one of the hardest working kids I know.  I don't know many 8 year olds who do their homework EVERY day (even in the summer) without complaint.  You practice your karate EVERY day.  You read EVERY night.  I'm so proud of how hard you work.  I know it's exhausting, and I know it's sometimes frustrating.  But you do it and it makes a difference.  You may not be the smartest kid going into third grade, but darn it, you are certainly holding your own.  And in the fall you will most likely earn your yellow belt in karate.  You can be SO proud of sticking with something for this long and working so hard, even thought it takes you longer than some other kids.  Your victories are so much sweeter because they are harder to achieve.

Jayson, so many people simply don't understand you.  You seem like every other 8 year old on the outside, when inside the world is such a jumble of confusion for you.  As a result, you try to make sense of the world in the only way you know how, and others just don't quite get where you are coming from.  But if you always remember your manners and treat others nicely, work on your limitations and use those coping strategies, make a few friends with some super nice and understanding kids, and keep working hard, you are going to do just fine.  It won't be easy for you, but you will be OK.  I love you more than words can say and thank God for you every day.  I thank God for all the support He has put in our lives to cope with big A.  But I am most thankful for you and how you have changed me for the better.  Happy Happy Birthday, Jayson.  May you get the biggest slice of cake, lots of Bears and Cubs stuff, and have a wonderful time with your friends at your party.
I love you,
Mom
 

My Favorite Thing...

I have always considered myself a cheap date.  All I need to be happy is a good book, a knitting project, and a steaming cup of coffee.  In the past year I've discovered one more thing that brings laughter, happiness, knowledge, and excitement to my life.  And best of all - it's FREE! I'm talking about podcasts.

For those of you who don't know, podcasts are like radio shows that you can download for free off the internet.  There are literally thousands of podcasts out there covering a wide range of topics.  If you have an interest, chances are there is a podcast on that subject.  I've listened to many and found that some are better than others.  I wanted to share the 3 podcasts that have brought me the most entertainment.

The first one is Manic Mommies. (http://www.manicmommies.com/index.php/category/podcast/ ) Erin and Kristin are 2 working moms with 2 kids apiece.  Many of their shows are just the two of them venting their frustrations, which is often hilarious and sometimes even emotional.  These are 2 real women with real struggles.  Their husbands aren't perfect, their children aren't perfect, and they aren't perfect, but they do a great job sorting through it all to try to bring valuable insights to their listeners.  They have over 300 episodes online so, by now, I feel like they are good friends of mine.  Even though I am not a working mother, I identify with many of their parenting struggles.  It's nice to know I'm not alone.

The second podcast is Two Gomers. (http://www.twogomers.com/) They have many seasons, starting with Two Gomers Run a Half Marathon, then Two Gomers Run a Marathon, Two Gomers Run a Marathon: The Sub Five Strive, and finally, Two Gomers Run for their Lives.  The podcast follows Anthony and Steven, two thirtysomething guys who grew up together in Wisconsin, and now live on opposite ends of the country.  About 4 years ago both men found themselves at a low point and decided to do something about it.  Having never run a step before (except for a brief time in middle school), they decided to train and run a half marathon, and eventually a marathon.  But this is NOT just a running podcast.  Anthony and Steven are just two great guys with big hearts and a sweet sense of humor.  I can't tell you how many times I've nearly spit out my drink listening to them - they just crack me up.  It's been a joy to listen to their running escapades, but also learn about their families and big life events.  I always tell my husband that if the gomers lived on our street, I would hope they would be our close friends. 

The last podcast I can't rave enough about is The History Chicks. (http://thehistorychicks.com/?cat=6)  Now I know you are thinking , "of COURSE Dawn would listen to boring old history things - snooze!"  But this is no ordinary history lesson. Susan and Beckett profile a different woman in history in each episode and the podcast is wildly entertaining.  They do an amazing level of research and thus are able to really portray the human side of their subjects.  The first episode I listened to was about Marie Antoinette, and by the end of the episode I had tears in my eyes thinking about this poor young girl who must have been so scared throughout her life.  Susan and Beckett have a real knack for using the podcast almost like a gossip session - only the gossip subjects are all famous.  It's typical girl talk, but educational! Some of my favorite podcasts were on Molly Brown, Lizzie Borden, and Catherine of Aragon.  I have studied many of these subjects throughout my own educational career (I was a history teacher after all), but Susan and Beckett have taught me more than any of my years at school. 

So head onto the internet and start downloading.  Trust me, you will look forward to long drives in the car, doing the dishes, cleaning the house, and exercising - because you will have your free podcasts to keep you company! 

I Did It! I Really Did It!!!

I am a marathoner. 

I never dreamed I would ever utter those words - not in a million years! So here I sit, still in a fair amount of pain, but blissfully happy and proud.  Here's a recap of how it all went down:

After a pretty terrible night's sleep we awoke at 5:00 to the sound of pouring rain.  After my friends Julie and Jen checked their phone's weather reports, we breathed a sigh of relief that the rain was supposed to end right around the 7AM start time.  We planned to eat, leave the hotel by 6AM, and arrive in plenty of time to find the "All Cheese Coral" for the start (we all had our cheese apparel on!).  Our plan began to unravel when we hit the lobby.  Waiting by the door, affixing her race number to her shirt, was a much older woman wearing a glittery racing skirt.  She was with her son and we began to make small talk about the rain.  We soon learned that she was no ordinary grandma.  She was the famous "Grammy" - a 68 year old woman who decided she was going to raise money for autism (her grandson is on the spectrum) by doing something daring.  Although she had only started running a year earlier, she pledged to run 50 Half Marathons in all 50 states by the time she was 70 years old.  The Wisconsin race was 1/2 marathon #30 for her. 

I was so in awe of this amazing woman and felt very lucky to have met her.  I saw her a few times during the race and she was going strong the entire time.  I would encourage everyone to check out her website and consider supporting her cause - http://www.racewithgrammy.com/

Grammy was so interesting we ended up chatting and taking all kinds of picture, thus leaving VERY late for the start line.  We rushed to the lakefront and frantically searched for parking, poking head holes in our garbage bags to prepare for the rain.  We hurried to the start and only had a few minutes to spare.  Everyone else ran to the port a potties - except me.  I have a fear of port a potties.  This would come back to haunt me later.  Within minutes the race began - it took us 3 minutes to reach the start line.  As if by divine intervention, the rain stopped just as I crossed the timing mat - we were off!!

The first 8 miles or so of the race was pretty fun.  The scenery was beautiful along the lake, and the crowds were a hoot.  Some spectators had set up "high five stations" and others were dressed up as Wisconsin symbols (a cheese man, a giant beer hop, etc.).  My only complaint in the first third of the race were the hills.  I have never trained on hills and I thought they had 4 pretty good sized ones for a course that was supposed to be flat.  I was a little worried about how those hills were going to affect my knees and hips later in the race.  By mile 8 my friend Jen began talking bathroom break (she has the bladder the size of a pea).  It was here I made a small error in judgement - I decided to take a break with her.  I didn't really have to go, but the bathrooms were REAL bathrooms (not port o potties), and I worried that I might have to use the bathroom at mile 20.  I knew later in the race if I sat down, I would probably be unable to get back up.  So I hurried off the course to use the facilities.  The entire stop took about 4-5 minutes.  This ended up costing me my sub-five dream, but oh well.

Jen and I continued on our way but I knew it was almost time to say goodbye to her.  She was going to be turning around to finish her half marathon and I was going to be on my own.  I wished her good luck and steeled myself for what was to come.  At mile 11 1/2 the half marathoners broke left and the marathoners continued straight ahead.  I went from being surrounded by hundreds of people to being almost completely on my own.  Thank goodness my friend Jeanette had stopped to use the bathroom around mile 12 because I soon caught up with her and ran with her for a few miles.  For the first part of the race, we all ran an interval of walking 1 minute for every 15 minutes of running.  As the miles add up, it gets harder for your body to start back up again after stopping to walk, so by mile 14 Jeanette was done with the interval.  We decided to run our own races from there.  I was starting to worry because my hips were hurting pretty bad and we were only at mile 14, but I kept on, laughing at a spectator sign that said "Congratulations! You have been running longer than a Kardashian has been married!"

By mile 18 I knew I was in trouble.  My hip continued to hurt and my mental toughness began to break down.  That nagging voice of doubt began to whisper, "you aren't going to make it!",  A little after mile 19 I stopped to walk and completely lost it.  My hip was screaming and my mind was panicking.  I told myself I was just going to have to walk the rest of the way.  I can't tell you how demoralized I felt.  I now realize I had hit my wall - at the time I didn't think that was the case.  I always thought "the wall" was when your legs turned to jelly and you simply couldn't go any further.  But there are mental walls too, and I had just hit mine.  I had walked about 1/4 mile when an older gentleman passed me.  He was probably in his 70's and he was wearing a shirt that said "50 Marathons in 50 States X 3" Well, heck, what was I whining about?  So I said a small prayer and started running again.

At mile 21, I knew I had to take drastic measures to take my mind off my pain.  I turned up the volume on my iPod as loud as it could go, closed my eyes, and started singing - out loud.  Because all outside stimulus was blocked, my brain began focusing on moving my body forward, and I started to gain speed.  I can't imagine what a lunatic I must have looked like.  My iPod had a very strange selection of songs - from Wham, to Rick Springfield, to Rush, and Glee - and I sang them all as I continued on my way.  But it worked.  I cruised the next 5 miles at my fastest pace of the entire race, and passed a boatload of runners along the way (every one of whom looked at me with a mixture of horror and pity - I think I scared them).  Twice I had the bike medics ask if I needed assistance since it looked as if I had gone off the rails.  Little did they know I had gotten my second wind. 

As I neared mile 26 I turned off the music since I wanted to fully experience the finish line.  I was concentrating pretty hard on not throwing up (16 energy chews sitting in your stomach is not a pleasant thing) when I saw a familiar face standing at the mile 26 sign - my friend Scott (who had finished the race an hour earlier) and some little girl.  I was so out of it I didn't realize that girl was my daughter! She ran onto the course to run me in the last .2 miles.  "The finish line is really close, Mama!" she said.  "How close?" I pleaded.  "Really close".  We turned around a bend and I saw it: FINISH.  I gave cry of joy and took off on a full sprint, crossing the line with Katy beside me at 5:04:09.  I had done it.  I couldn't believe it!

All of my friends and family were waiting for me and we all celebrated.  My friend Julie blew her 1/2 marathon time goal out of the water, my friend Jen ran her first 1/2 marathon after swearing only a few months before that she never would, my friend Scott put in a killer marathon time, and my friends Christy and Jeanette successfully completed their first marathons (under the 5 hour mark, no less!).  We all were overjoyed.  And tired. 

I'm still processing it all - perhaps I'll be able to write a future blog entry on how this has changed me.  Right now I"m still in a bit of a haze (and, to be honest, still in a bit of pain).  But I know I'll keep running.  In fact, just 1 hour after the race I was already thinking about when I could get back on the road.  And last night I signed up for another race - the Quad Cities Half Marathon in September.  I'm going to spend the summer getting faster and blow my half marathon time out of the water.  And you can bet your life I'm going to do another marathon.  Next Spring, I'm going to face this race again and beat it - this time, in under 5 hours.  Bring it on!!!

It All Comes Down To This...

I am just over 4 days away from the marathon - 4 days away from doing the craziest thing in 40 years.  I spent a large part of the weekend freaking out.  This included obsessively checking the weather (please, please stay below 70 degrees!), wondering if I should change my planned outfit, worrying about what I was going to eat this week, and panicking over every little snap, crackle, and pop of my joints (I sounded like a bowl of rice krispies before I started running so it's really no big deal).  I have been working towards this goal since last fall and I didn't want ANYTHING to screw it up. 

But after a very nice and easy 8 mile run on Saturday morning, the haze of panic began to clear out and was replaced by a pleasantly surprising feeling of excitement and peace.  I absolutely cannot WAIT for Saturday.  Barring any disaster, I truly think this is going to be one of the greatest moments of my life.  This accomplishment is mine and mine alone.  Nobody made my legs move for me.  Nobody forced me outside in sub zero temps or pouring rain.  Nobody made me get out of bed at 5:00 AM for runs.  I am hopefully going to do what less than 1% of the US population has done.  And I'm usually not a bragger, but you can be darn tootin' I'm going to feel some pride in this!  And the best part is that I'm going to be surrounded by friends and family, some who are celebrating their first marathons or half marathons as well.  I can't wait to cross the finish line and celebrate with everyone - although I'm fairly certain they will have to start the celebration without me since I'm on pace to finish dead last out of all my friends (which is just fine, believe me!). 

And I truly can't wait to see my family at the finish.  Erik has been an absolute saint throughout this entire crazy endeavor.  He's put up with my 7PM bedtimes, my endless carbohydrate dinners, and the dramatic increase in our ibuprofen budget.  He's been nothing but encouraging and I think he's as excited for me as I am for myself.  But the best part will be seeing the kids.  I've always been a firm believer that parents need to cultivate a life outside of their children.  I fully support my kids' dreams, but I also want them to be inspired by mine.  It warms my heart that the first thing Jayson says to me when he sees me put on my shoes is "How many miles are you running today, Mom?".  He used to tell me that I run too far, but lately he's been commenting "is that all?", when I tell him my plans to run some shorter distances.  For some reason, he's convinced I'm going to get 76th place.  I don't have the heart to tell him it will be more like 3076th place! I'm just glad he's interested in what I'm doing.  But it's Katy who has tickled me the most.  She comes home from school every day and immediately asks me how my run went  In the past few weeks she has said more than once how much she wants to run a marathon some day. She's asked to run with me after the race and has a goal of running a 10K by the end of summer.  I can't wait to get her fitted for her own pair of shoes so she can join me out on some runs.  With her gazelle-like legs and crazy athletic ability, it won't be long before she passes me by. 

So BRING IT ON!! I can't wait! And I'm not going to panic any more at all.  I'm certainly not going to obsess any more about things like outfits and weather.  But I might take the rest of the week to obsess over one very important last detail - what I'm going to have for dinner AFTER the race.  I see an entire pizza in my future...

I'll let you know how it all turns out...

Turning 40...

Well I'm wondering if I need to change the title of this blog to "Tales of a Girl Who TURNED 40", since last Sunday, April 1, was my birthday.  While I think I'll keep the title the same for now, I would like to share some of my observations about the big event:

1.  It wasn't a big event.  No huge party, no fireworks, no massive gift, and no April Fool's day jokes.  But it did include a lovely evening with my good friends filled with good food, good wine, and great company.  I have always said that one of my greatest blessings is my friends.  I'm so thankful I got to spend my birthday with them.

2.  I wasn't depressed!  I can't tell you how many people called me that day and asked (some jokingly, some not) "How are you handling everything?"  I'm sure turning 40 is hard for some folks - and one day not so long ago I thought it would be hard for me.  Not even close.  By the time April 1 rolled around I was excited to turn 40! My 30's were an exhausting roller coaster of emotions, and I spend the bulk of the decade second guessing my every move.  Recently I've come into my own a little bit and operate with a little more confidence.  I'm not as panicked about my children (a shocker, let me tell you) and I feel as if I'm finally getting my footing.  If anything, 40 is freeing!

3.  I don't feel old! I don't quite have the spring in my step that I had in my 20's, but my step does still have plenty of spring.  In fact, I spent the last week of my 30's racking up 36 miles worth of running.  This marathon has certainly cushioned the blow of age.  I have never felt more powerful, more strong, and more capable.  I may be more wrinkled and more gray, but dang it - I can also run 20 miles. 

4.  I am SO excited for the next 40 years! I"m loving this stage of life - the kids are still youngish and I still feel like a world of opportunity is at my fingertips.  But I've also gotten some life experience under my belt (good and bad).  I think I'll navigate the next 40 years a little better than I did the first 40!

So Happy Birthday to me - and a HUGE thank you to everyone who celebrated it with me. 

Working It Out in the Long Run

It might be cliche to say that running is metaphor for life - all that talk about life being a marathon rather than a sprint, for example.  But the metaphor rings true for me, and perhaps rings most true when I think about the LTR - the long training run. 

My marathon training schedule has me doing 4 runs a week.  2 of them are relatively short (5 miles or less), 1 of them hits a medium distance (5-8 miles), and you end the week with your longest run. In the beginning of the training my long run was 9 miles.  Yesterday, I did my second longest training run of 18 miles.  These long runs serve many purposes, and as I have completed them I have begun to realize they are not only training me for the race, they are proving to be a training plan for life.

As my long runs get longer and more difficult, life has a tendency to do the same thing.  As I grow older the challenges that face me have higher stakes as well.  My actions in life have a great impact on those around me.  At 40, I am no longer living my life for myself like I was in my teens and twenties.  I have a much greater awareness of my responsibility to others.  I take my marathon training seriously so as not to injure myself on race day.  I take my actions in life seriously as not to injure myself or those I love with rash decisions, selfish actions, and poor choices. 

The long training run is my time to "practice" the marathon.  I can test out what clothes feel most comfortable, which shoes and socks repel blisters, when to stop for fueling breaks, and what to eat before and after the runs.  I would be stupid if I didn't fix mistakes on a long run, for it would make the next long run just as painful.  While we may not realize it, life also provides us with many "practice runs".  Everything we do is a learning experience.  Every mistake we make teaches us what not to do next time.  As with running, I would be a fool to continue hurtful behavior.  It will only prove to be continually painful as the years go by.  But while running mistakes provide almost instant and obvious pain (such as blisters, cramps, and muscle tears) that requires immediate remedy, the pain that results from our own life mistakes can often be buried and ignored.  Consequently, we don't always alter our actions and we continue to hurt ourselves and those around us. 

Happily, however, there is another similarity between life and the long training run - we almost always get another crack at it.  Last week my long run of 17 miles was disastrous.  Weather conditions were poor, my virus had not completely gone away, and my legs were screaming in pain from mile 13 on.  I literally hobbled that last mile and honestly thought I might never run again.  But, oh, what a difference a week made!  Yesterday my long run of 18 miles had me mentally on edge - but it was successful from start to finish.  I began to feel pain around mile 12, but learned from previous runs not to panic and to just keep an easy pace, while putting one foot in front of the other.  I am thankful that life provides a similar second chance (and third, and fourth, etc.).  I won't always make the right decisions, or act in the right way, but life will often give me a "do over".  It's never too late to fix past mistakes.  Just when we think we've screwed things up for good, around the corner lies another opportunity to try again and do better next time.  Kind of how every Monday brings a new long run. 

But what I love most about the long run is what it represents.  It is not only the run that lets you "work out the kinks", it is also the run that makes you stronger and stronger each time you experience it.  My body may be a wreck at the end of my long run, but by the time the next one rolls around I am stronger and ready for an even longer distance.  I can honestly say that life has made me a wreck sometimes.  But when I get through such challenges, it only makes me stronger to face the next ones.  And the beauty of the long run is that it is, in fact, LONG.  Yesterday I ran for over 3 hours.  In that amount of time I can work through a lot of things in my head - and that's where the line blurs for me between running and real life.  I can work through my struggles on my runs.  I can think about my latest plan to help Jayson in school, or help Katy with her confidence, or help Erik with whatever he needs.  I can think honestly about my own failings and how I can do better next time.  The long run makes me physically stronger but, more importantly, mentally stronger as well. 

Katy looked at my training schedule the other day and asked why the longest run I do is only 20 miles.  Isn't the marathon 26 miles?  I laughed and told her I wondered about the same thing myself.  After all, 6 miles is over an hour more of running. How on earth do I face that challenge the day of the race? But I told my daughter what other experienced runners have told me before - you have to trust your training.  The 16 weeks of running I have done before the race will have taught me everything I need to know.  It will hopefully have trained my body and my mind to go the entire distance.  And, ladies and gentleman, so it is with life.  I have 40 years worth of experiences that lay before me.  Life will throw me many more problems, worries, and crises, to be sure.  I will simply have to trust the training.  And I truly believe that it will all work out - in the long run...

My Greatest Blessing...

Life was pretty simple when I was 17 - I didn't think it was then, but of course now I know otherwise.  I was a senior in high school, getting good grades, enjoying time with my friends, and highly involved at school.  Looking back, I think I was pretty immature back then - perhaps no more than any typical 17 year old, but prone to the normal dramas and overreactions that many teenage girls have.  I had a boyfriend - a really sweet boy that I had dated during the summer, but who lived in another state during the school year.  I had no idea that my life was going to change that year.  In fact, I didn't realize how significant the change would be until years later.  You see, that was the year I met Erik, a very shy sweet kid one grade below me in school. 

I never would have known he existed had fate not put me in speech class with his 2 best friends.  The normal high school matchmaking schemes commenced and I found myself introduced to Erik one day before school.  Now, I'm not going to tell you I was hit with a bolt of lightening or anything - that would  be exaggerating.  But I will say I knew almost instantly that this boy had a special quality about him.  I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but as I got to know him better I figured it out.  Erik was genuine.  There wasn't a conceited bone in his body (a rarity for teenage boys).  He was kind, polite, and had a quiet strength about him.  It certainly didn't hurt that he was cute (in that braces-wearing, late 80's hair kind of way).  But it wasn't his looks that grabbed me - it was his integrity. 

Fast forward a year and I was off to college, while Erik started his senior year in high school.  We had the sweet puppy love thing going and decided to stick it out long distance.  That Christmas brought news of my parent's divorce, and I think I clung to Erik like a lifeline.  I came home that summer and we were stronger than ever.  But the next 5 years proved to be an interesting test of our relationship, as we studied at different colleges.  To this day I marvel that we stuck it out.  We both took turns acting like idiots - trying out new personalities and new directions that is probably very normal for any kid in college.  Erik went a little too far in the delinquent direction, and I went a little too far in the nerdy, anxiety ridden direction, with random bits of wildness thrown in.  Although our relationship strained, we both grew a bit, and I suspect in the end we knew we had a good thing.  I know I never met anyone else like him.  I could never shake this feeling that he was the real deal - just a good person through and through. 

And so 15 years ago this week, we got married.  I'd love to say that's the end of the story, but it was truly only the beginning.  That little gut feeling I had way back as a stupid teenager proved to be the most valuable thing I ever possessed.  All those qualities in Erik that impressed me back then have turned out to the same qualities that make him nothing less than my absolute rock.  Life has thrown us too many curves to count in the last 15 years (cancer, a child with special needs, family strife, just to name a few), but we continue to weather them all with as much grace and dignity as we can.  And the older I get, the more obvious it becomes that I have hit the absolute jackpot when it comes to husbands.  Erik is the same guy he was all those years ago, only better.  He is humble, uninterested in status, full of integrity, trustworthy, kind, sweet, a hell of a father, and always looking to serve his family's needs before he serves his own.  And, yes, he's still quite the looker.  He is simply what many refer to as "good people". 

I don't know what I did to deserve him (and there are days I think I don't), but I am more grateful for him than for anything else in my entire life.  I know 15 years is a drop in the bucket (his parents just celebrated 50 years of marriage), but I suspect he and I are in the thick of it - with school age kids and their struggles (and schedules!), financial stress, and all the other pitfalls of middle age that can derail a marriage.  If it's even possible, I am happier now than I was 15 years ago - just older, grayer, and completely unable to fit into that impossibly small-waisted wedding dress.  Happy Anniversary, Erik.  And here's to many, many more...

A Letter to My Daughter

Dear Katy,
I have been thinking a lot about you lately.  It's usually your brother that brings me the most worry but lately it's been you.  And it's not exactly worry that I feel - rather apprehension.  I know you are on the verge of big changes and I can tell you are struggling with them.  I guess I just want to make sure I'm helping you through these times in the right way.  Moms are known for making big mistakes during this time period - ask any middle schooler!  So I thought I would tell you some of the things that have been on my mind lately.  Some of these things we have talked about and some we haven't - mainly because I can't always find the right words.  So here it goes:

1.  Don't worry about your mood swings.  I know they bother you,  I know you feel guilty about them, and I know you think there is something wrong with you.  Trust me,  it's OK.  I had similar emotional swings when I was your age and they continued for quite a few years.  I know you can't always control them and I know they drive you as batty as they drive everyone else.  Dad and I expect them and are ready for them.  And there is nothing wrong with you.  In fact, I'm pleasantly surprised so far to see how well you handle some of those emotions.  I appreciate that you are still so respectful and kind on the outside, even when I know you are a tumble of emotions on the inside. 

2. Don't follow the crowd.  We've had this conversation a million times.  We've talked about the mean kids at school and why they always seem to become the "popular" kids.  I don't know why it always seems to be the case, but it usually ends up that way.  There is a reason those kids make you feel so uncomfortable - it's because you know you don't want to be like them.  This is a good thing.  Be your own person and try not to worry about what everyone else is doing.  I know it's hard to do that right now but have confidence in yourself and know that you are a great kid who makes great choices.  Don't be intimidated by those who make bad ones. 

3.  Hang in there with your friends.  In a few short months you will go to middle school and your social circle will get a little bit bigger.  You will meet plenty of kids that accept you for who you are - faults included.  In the mean time, don't let people mistreat you.  Don't let people ignore you or make you feel like they don't want you around.  And don't be anyone's second choice.  Life is too short to spend time with people who make you feel bad about yourself.  True friends simply do not go out of their way to be mean and uncaring towards you.  Friends can have disagreements, sure.  But true friends are kind, and you know you have a true friend when you don't EVER have to question whether they want you around.  You have friends like that now.  Nurture those friendships and stop worrying about the other ones.  But above all, be kind and understanding to everyone.  Sometimes you will be kinder to others than they are to you.  That's OK.  We have had many talks about your brother and his struggles.  I hope that has taught you that MANY people have their own struggles.  Sometimes you have to give them a little bit of grace and leeway.  Don't just toss people aside because they make a misstep.  If we all did that, we would never form any meaningful relationships. 

4.  Have more confidence in yourself! I wish you could see what I see because you are such a neat kid.  You are responsible, respectful, and smart (a parent's dream combination).  But you are also hilariously funny (some may call it snarky - it's OK, you get that from me), a great artist, a very creative writer, a budding track and cross country runner, and a pretty darn good synchronized ice skater! You are unique.  Don't worry if you're not like every other kid at your school.  You aren't supposed to be - you just have to be YOU!

5.  Don't fear the changes that are coming your way - embrace them.  Everyone is trying to scare you about Middle School and how intimidating it will be.  Trust me - you are going to thrive there.  You are organized and have amazing study skills and will probably coast through the academics.  And if you can remember some of the advice above you will make it through the social minefields as well.  You can continue to skate with your good friends on your team, and you can try out new teams and clubs at school.  There are so many neat opportunities on the horizon.  You are going to LOVE middle school!

6.  And finally - try to cut me a few breaks.  I am in the process of trying to figure out how to mother you correctly through this time.  I have to strike the right balance between protecting you and letting you go.  I won't always do it right.  But I think I'm going to do OK - and so are you.  I love you.

Love, Mom.

That Nagging Voice of Doubt

I knew it would happen sooner or later - it always does.  In my forty years of life I have developed a pattern that appears time and time again.  Any time I begin any new journey, be it a new job, motherhood, a new hobby, a new friendship, etc, I always begin the journey with enthusiasm and (more importantly) confidence.  I have this initial sense of giddiness and a rush of excitement that fools me into thinking that nothing can stand in my way.  Alas, as time goes by, the cracks in the armor begin to appear.  The new job becomes overwhelming, the kids still don't sleep through the night, I unravel my knitting for the millionth time, and that friend and I have our first misunderstanding.  As the confidence slowly fades away, it is replaced by my nemesis - self doubt.  For me, doubt is an insidious thing.  Once it creeps in, it multiplies in strength and quite often derails me. 

With 10 weeks to go in my marathon training, I am having my first crises of confidence.  I had made it one year without issue.  Almost every run had been a good one, I had avoided injury, found a wonderful array of friends to run with, and conquered my half marathon training plans and races with relative ease.  I felt invincible.  And then last weekend I had my very first bad run.  Epically bad.  I was 2 miles into an 11 mile run and was ready to call Erik to come and pick me up so I could go home and eat candy.  Thankfully, I had forgotten to bring my cell phone that afternoon so I slogged on.  With every step, my brain became more clouded with negativity.  All I could think about was how exhausted I was, and how relentless the training schedule was about to become. 

More bad news was still to come.  My friend, who was going to train and run the entire marathon with me, had to drop down to the half marathon due to a reoccurring issue with bronchitis this winter.  I was now on my own for every long training run and, sadly, the marathon as well.  This was not in the plan.  I am a social person and planned on leaning on my friend for company, comic relief, mental support, and other forms of encouragement.  Once again, doubt had creeped in and had made me feel like I won't be good enough. 
 And let me tell you - I'm TIRED of feeling that I'm not good enough.  I've felt that way about so many different things in my life.  I'm sick of doubting whether or not I'm a good enough mother, friend, wife - you name it.  Doubt is not a productive emotion - by its very nature it stops you from moving forward.  And right now, moving forward is what I need to be doing.

So here I sit at what seems to be a crossroads.  Am I going to give into the doubt or literally run past it? I have a 12 miler tomorrow morning that has my nerves on edge.  I can't even begin to process the 14 miler that comes next week, or the 16 miler that comes the week after that.  And I'll be doing them alone.  I never understood how much of a mental game this was until now.  I'd love to scream "bring it on!" with confidence, but I"m just not feeling it.  For now, it looks like I'll just be putting one foot in front of the other.  Let's hope my footsteps drown out that nagging voice.  The time has come to silence it forever in my running, and in my life.  I'll let you all know how tomorrow goes...

Learning to Let Go (and Get Out of the Helicopter)...

So I read the most amazing article last week called "How to Land Your Kid in Therapy" (see the entire article here http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/07/how-to-land-your-kid-in-therapy/8555/ ).  It introduced me to the concept of the "helicopter parent" - the parent who puts 100% of herself into her children, providing them with every opportunity possible, encouraging and cheerleading their every move, and sheltering them from even the slightest bit of discomfort and disappointment.  I know parents like this.  Sometimes I can be this parent.  Sometimes, when I fall into the trap of measuring my self worth by my children's successes, I even STRIVE to be this parent - after all, a happy and successful kid means I did my job, right?  Uh, no.  Not even close.
 
The article is written by a therapist who began to see adults in their late 20's and 30's who were coming to her for help with anxiety and depression.  When she began to dig deeper into their upbringings she expected to find the textbook parenting "mistakes" - divorce, withholding of love, constant belittling, you name it.  Instead she found quite the opposite.  The adults sitting on her couch couldn't say enough wonderful things about their parents and all the love and opportunity that was showered on them.  These patients felt all the more guilty for being depressed and unhappy.  After all their parents had done for them, why were they still so lost?  One psychiatrist pointed out "many parents will do anything to avoid having their kids experience even mild discomfort, anxiety, or disappointment, with the result that when, as adults, they experience the normal frustrations of life, they think something must be terribly wrong."  I think this last statement hit home the hardest.  Life certainly does throw curveballs at you.  Career choices turn out to be wrong, jobs become mundane, friendships go down bad roads, marriages hit some rocky times, financial woes rear their ugly heads, and many other unpleasant things pop up to derail the course of our lives.  Truth is, most of these curveballs are NORMAL! Not every second of marriage is rosy, not every job will make us millionaires, and our kids will not always be perfectly behaved.  Do we want to raise children that expect a perfect life? What happens when reality hits them square in the face?  Isn't it better to let them know that life will most definitely be a rollercoaster of ups and downs?  In the midst of especially hard times or especially good times, Erik and I will often turn to each other and say a simple statement, "Peaks and valleys, huh? Peaks and valleys".  We have had both good and challenging times come our way.  If there is one thing we have learned, the valleys make the peaks so much more gratifying.  I want my kids to have the confidence that they can overcome the rough patches in life - and they won't know that unless I let them experience it. 

An even more disturbing effect of helicopter parenting is the blurring of the line between high self esteem and out and out narcissism.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the upswing of narcissism in our culture.  Our need to post every minutia of our lives on facebook (guilty here), blog (guilty again), and constantly check our mail and text inboxes is a reflection of our inflated self importance.  This will only get worse with our children, apparently.   A professor of psychology writes, " ...parents act like their servants, shuttling them to any activity they choose and catering to their every desire.  Parents are constantly telling their children how special and talented they are.  This gives them an inflated view of their specialness compared to other human beings."  She goes on to say that these kids grow up and have trouble working in teams, and have a hard time in unstructured environments, since they had been provided with structure for their entire lives.  She says these kids grow up to be adults who believe they don't have the ability to solve problems - and they don't, because problems were always being solved for them. We've also demonized the concept of "average".  God forbid we have an average child.  I once attended a mom's conference where the speaker implored us to "delight in your ordinary child".  Not every kid will be best and the brightest.  It's easy as a parent to bask in the glows of talented children, and you are kidding yourself if you don't admit that children with no clear dominance in any one area gives us our own anxiety.  Perhaps that is why we shuffle our kids from activity to activity, trying to find the thing that they shine at.   Now I'm not saying it's not our job as parents to help our kids find what they are good at, but it's probably more important to stress that they find something they enjoy - even if they stink at it.  I admit Jayson isn't very good at Karate, but he sure does love it. 

I have to tell you, this article really hit me hard.  I would like to think I"m not acting like a helicopter parent, but I know that most of us have a hard time recognizing or admitting our own failings.  I've said many times that, as I near 40, I realize that the biggest part of being an adult is confessing that we don't know it all, we are sometimes (often times?) wrong, and we always have room for improvement.  I think I can improve in this area of my parenting for sure.   Now this doesn't mean that I'm leaving my kids to their own devices while I sit on the couch and eat bon bons (although that does sound lovely).  But you can bet that I'm going to loosen the reigns a little bit. I will stop handing out advice like candy to my daughter, and start letting her figure out some issues on her own.  I'm going to resist the urge to sugar coat everything.  Her skating team is having a pretty rough year this year.  I've been trying to play up the positives and have told her repeatedly how wonderful the team looks.  Maybe the lesson she needs to learn is that no matter how hard you work and how hard you try, you won't always be top tier.  At the end of the day, you have to be happy with the amount of effort you have put in, but you also need to admit when you are out of your element and decide if you can be happy doing the activity without all the accolades.  I'm already researching sleep away camps so she can spend a week with complete strangers and really get a sense of who she is and who she wants to be.  I'm going to try my hardest to give Jayson a little more breathing space, since he is the child my helicopter hovers over the most.  I know in my heart the greatest way I can help him is to let him learn to help himself.  And I'm going to (gulp) let them both fail at things.  Hopefully the more they fail and rebound,  the more confident they will become. 

So do yourself a favor and read the article.  Perhaps you will take offense, or perhaps you will deem it nonsense.  I certainly don't think I have all the answers, but it's important to at least check ourselves with periodic questions.  In the mean time, I have a lot of strategic letting go to do...

Resolutions

I don't normally make resolutions.  I feel it just sets me up for failure and who needs that stress right after the holidays?  But this year seems different.  The past year has brought so many changes in me that I think I have naturally been moving towards some new attitudes.  For the first time in a long time, I am starting 2012 with 2 resolutions.  One will be achieved come hell or high water, and the other will probably continue to be a work in progress.

My first resolution is, as you know, to run a marathon.  Training officially started on December 19th, although it has been ramped up since I stuck a 1/2 marathon into the mix next weekend.  I'm feeling pretty darn good about achieving this resolution.  There are surely unseen forces guiding me to success in this goal - how else could we Chicagoans explain temperatures near 50 degrees with no snow or ice to be found in the beginning of January?  Surely God is watching out for me and knows I will need a little divine intervention to make winter training a reality.  Sorry kids - I know you want to go sledding, but Mama has to train for the big 26.2.  We shall see how long this great weather lasts...

My second resolution has been a long time coming and takes on many forms in my life.  This year, and hopefully for the rest of my life, I am going to work harder on cultivating a life of contentment.  On the surface this looks like an easy resolution - how hard is it to be content? In all honesty I think our culture makes contentment darn near impossible.  Walk into any store, watch any TV commercial, go visit a friend with a nicer house than you, listen to someone describe their latest vacation - you get the idea.  There is always something better, something nicer, something more fun "out there".  We are on a constant quest to make our lives perfect, aren't we? If we just had new carpeting, or remodeled the kitchen, or got a new haircut, or found the perfect pair of jeans, or went to Disney World, or or or or or...  

On a consumer level, I think I do a pretty good job.  I avoid stores (and NEVER go to the mall), and rarely get suckered in by the latest and greatest thing (except I really covet an iPad - darn it!!).   I can be blissfully happy with a library book, and a skein of yarn and some knitting needles.  I'm a cheap date.  I usually don't buy clothes until the favorite items I have are beyond repair - and I'm one of the only ladies I know who gets by on 4 pairs of shoes (OK, not including my running shoes).  Anyone who has ever been to my house knows I'm not a slave to home decor.  Although I admire the beautiful homes of other people, I'm pretty happy with the plain and simple house I currently have.  I actually cringe when Erik talks about repainting or buying a picture for the wall.  He is finishing a spare room in the basement for his parents and has asked me a few times how I want to decorate it.  I told him to take the reigns and figure it out for himself - I have no interest.  So perhaps I've cultivated more of a life of avoidance than contentment here - but hey, I AM content. 

But it's the other areas of my life where I find myself trapped.  Our culture not only teaches us to strive for it's version of happiness in the stores, it also woos us into chasing "perfection" in our personal lives and in the lives of our children.  Being busy is worn like a badge of honor in America.  The more friends we have, social engagements on the calendar, activities for our kids, involvement in schools and church, the better.  I want to be more purposeful at this stage in my life deciding what is really necessary to fulfill me and I want my kids to be able to do the same.  This means saying no to things - not because I can't do them, or because I don't like the person who has asked, or even because I don't want to.  I need to start saying no to things that bring too much craziness into our lives.  In other words, I need to be content with less. 

Which brings me to my children.  I was once at a Mom's conference and a speaker uttered the phrase "Comparison kills contentment".  These words have resonated with me time and time again and in the past year this phrase has been ringing in my ears more loudly than ever.  I think this saying is true in many areas of our lives, but it hits me really hard as a parent.  As you know, I have a far from "perfect" son.  He will never be a straight A student, and social awkwardness will continue to bedevil him for the rest of his life.  He may or may not ever excel at athletics (although he can catch and throw a football like nobody's business - I'm just sayin'), and it's unlikely he will be in the "popular" crowd at school.  Nothing is harder than watching Jayson around other kids his age, because I immediately start to (you guessed it) compare, compare, compare.  And the more I compare him the less contentment I feel.  When I pay attention to these emotions, I become more practiced in seeing the gifts and blessings that my son brings to me.  He may not be the best writer in his class, but he loves school and his face lights up when he succeeds.  He may not fly up the ranks in karate very quickly, but when he masters a kata he is SO proud of himself and sets his sights on the next belt.  He may struggle with friendships, but when he finds a child who understands him and accepts him, I can literally see him physically relax and his face radiates with pure joy.  I'd say that brings me a heck of a lot of contentment.  I think Jayson's greatest gift to me is he will force me to let go of our culture's notion of "perfection" and "achievement".  He will never reach it, anyways, so doesn't it make more sense that we redefine those notions and be content with them? In all honesty, reaching our culture's definition of success and achievement and happiness is just plain exhausting anyway. 

I see this with my daughter as well.  Katy is 11 years old and heading straight into the lion's mouth of contentment killing comparison - middle school.  I am hoping she can navigate her way through the jungle and come up with her own definitions of contentment - definitions that don't include the labels on her clothes or what kind of phone she carries.  I hope she can be content with finding a few true friends, rather than chasing the "popular' crowd who never seem stop chasing the idea of perfection.  I think Katy already learned a lesson about contentment just recently with her ice skating.  Katy is on a synchronized skating team and also takes individual lessons.  Skating is a sport that one can really only excel in if they put in the time for coaching and practice.  There are girls she knows that skate 6 days a week for many hours a day - and these girls are, in fact, very good at ice skating.  Probably better than Katy will ever be.  But not only can our family not afford more time on the ice, we are very wary of letting ice skating take over her life.  So we talked to her about what she really loved about the sport and what her goals were.  If she could honestly tell me that she loved it so much she was willing to dedicate the bulk of her time to it, then we would try hard to make that happen.  But Katy told us the best thing about skating was being with her friends.  So we decided to keep her on the synchro team (a relatively cheap way to enjoy the sport of skating), and keep her individual skating to a more reasonable and affordable once a week.  She won't be as good as most girls at that rink to be sure, but I'm pretty sure she's content with that. 

So 2012 will hopefully continue to shape my feelings of contentment.  I'm already finding happiness in much simpler things.  I'm hoping I don't alienate myself too badly from the culture around me.  And I hope I reach that marathon goal in May.  To be honest, I have no time goal.  I'll be CONTENT with just crossing the finish line on my feet and with a pulse.  Happy New Year everyone!