They were purchased to run a 10k with Baldman last fall.  Guess what?  We didn’t run it.  There are so many things that we say we’re gonna do that we don’t.  It’s not fun.

These shoes have run, though, miles on a treadmill.  Miles that I never thought I would be able to run.  Miles that have pushed me, strengthened me, challenged me, and drained me.  Miles that have restored bits of my sanity, renewed mountains of hope, and reclaimed years of my life.  Miles that, unbelievably to me, I wouldn’t trade for anything.

But these shoes are asking for more.  They’re asking to be pushed to their potential; worked to their limit.  They are asking to be underestimated.  They are craving to be gotten dirty, grimy, and worn through striving for the finish line.  And they will be.

Not a 10k for these shoes, but a few weeks from now, they will be sprinting with me across the finish line in my first triathlon.  My first triathlon.  Meaning 1) I’m competing in a triathlon and 2) I think there will be more than one for me!  Craziness.  And joy.

To the point:

The most requests I get are for the return of the game, “What is it?”   How to play:  I post a portion of a pic, you take a guess at what it is.  I assign random points, and at some point end the game.  I total the points to decide who wins.  I probably get you a gift card or something.  Last time, it was to Amazon.  (.com, not  The)

Here’s the first pic in the new serious.  Rantz, try not to break it.

Go.

1. If I could get away somewhere for the weekend I would go to:  a B&B with my hubs.  And I’m going to in a couple of weeks, celebrating our 14 years of marriage.  Crazy.

2. Something I often rant about is: okay, 2 things.  One, when you share something with someone and they respond with, “Well, it must be nice,” in a snarky, jealous way.  I’m happy for you when something good happens to you, you should try and do the same (for me or anyone else).  Two,  when we feel we have to justify a purchase to someone just because they compliment us.  (This will probably make more sense to the ladies out there.)  When I say, “Ooohhh, your ring is really pretty,”  Or, “I love that shirt!”, believe what I say.  I don’t mean, “Wow, I really think that ring is pretty and it must have cost a fortune.”  I really don’t care what you paid for it.  I don’t need you to tell me that you found it on sale.  I’m really just letting you know that I like it.  It’s fine if you got a deal and want to share that with me, but that’s really not the intent of my compliment.  I’m really just glad for you that you have something you enjoy.

3. One item I need to have in my fridge at all time is: Vanilla Yogurt.  A big tub of it.  It’s essential for our smoothies and parfaits.  A few frozen strawberries, bananas, blueberries and yogurt in the blender and the kids think they’re having ice cream for breakfast.

4. My “life-saving” product is: Frizz-Ease by John Frieda.  It makes my hair almost sane.

5. A friend is someone who: is honest, is there for you, rejoices in your joy, comforts and listens to you in your sadness, and doesn’t leave you for the newest model.  I wonder if I’ve been guilty of that.

6. If I could write my own blank it would be: The next thing I want to learn to do is _________.

7.  My favorite kind of art is: photography.  It brings me so much joy.  And Norman Rockwell paintings.  I just love those.

My answer to Heather’s blank: Mark Harmon.  Maybe I was twelve, though.  Oh!  And Jon Bon Jovi.

My answer to my blank: A cartwheel.  Haven’t checked that off the bucket list, yet.

I thought that’s how I felt about Mother’s Day as well.  Bring me breakfast in bed, bouquets of flowers, take me out to dinner, take me to the movies, SPOIL ME ROTTEN.  No, it doesn’t always happen that way.  It never happens quite that way.  And that’s probably good.  Who wants to get used to all that attention?  Psh.  This year, though, I really did want to have a simple day.  Okay, weekend.  I tend expand the holidays a bit.

I told Baldman and the kids I wanted to take Saturday for Mother’s Day (since Mom and my MIL both live in town).  I slept in, had a homemade breakfast (not made by me), we did yard work and some shopping.  They all watched and gave opinions while I chose a dress and shoes (total under $30—Gabriel Bros.  Gotta love it!).  No one even whined about hanging out around the dressing room!

The rest of the weekend we celebrated with our moms.  Dinner and game night with one, breakfast and yardwork with the other.  I find I like sharing Mother’s Day with two amazing moms who are such a big part of our lives.

And, much to my amazement, the best part of the day was present time after breakfast.  Handmade cards, tissue paper flowers, handprint ceramics, decoupaged candle holders, and kids beaming with pride at their creations.  And me, beaming at mine.

So, it appears that I’ve grown up a bit in the whole Mother’s Day celebration.  When it comes to my birthday, though?  Pretend I’m turning 5 and party it up.

I think my latest, though, will be by far my favorite.  It’s a journal I’m keeping with my daughter.  I read the idea in a book about, shocker, journaling.  I decided it would be a nice new facet to our relationship, and it has been.  I also wanted to make sure that we started it while my daughter is still young enough that she doesn’t think I’m the world’s biggest drag.  I think we managed that.  My desire is that it becomes a place where we can share our thoughts, ideas, fears, hopes, joys, questions, and answers.  I want this to be to be a safe haven from judgment, disappointment, embarrassment, and insecurity.  I want us to share the moments of our lives that may be too fragile to speak aloud, but that still need to be expressed and experienced together.  I want her to know that there is always a safe place where we can meet.

Only a few months in, I already treasure it.

I have been decluttering.  Yes, those who actually know me have just sucked in a collective gasp.  I am not a neat person.  I am a very emotional person and often attach those emotions to physical objects.  And I’m not task oriented or structured or focused enough to actually go through all my stuff and decide what is worth keeping versus what is actually trash.  And I’m not that bothered by clutter.

Bad combo, aye?

I’ve started seeing these attributes in my kids, though.  You know what?  It’s not pretty.  It’s not joyful.  It’s not calming or peace-inducing or anything good.  Nothing good about it.  And my kids are like that now.  Shame on me.

It’s been getting to me lately, though.  And, importantly, to Baldman.  He has never been the cluttery-hold-on-to-everything type of person.  He was actually quite Type A when we met 19 years ago.  A little too much so for my comfort.  Now, well, now he’s living in the midst of clutter.  And it bothers him.  And you’d think it would bother him enough to maybe do something about it.  But, you know what I think?  I think he gave up.  I think he tried for awhile, years even, but then just gave up.  Because his best friend?  She didn’t care enough to help him.  Even worse, she maintained a space that was uncomfortable for him.  Shame on me.

Now though?  It’s bothering me, too.  Some of the clutter, and mostly the spirit that it fosters.  Chaos, instability, frustration, other things I can’t think to name right now.  I’m done with it.  I’m ready and eager to let go.  I’m ready to reclaim my home.

Tonight, we watched Enough Already with Peter Walsh.  We all watched it together.  Baldman, me, and the kids.  Yup, the kids, too.  I’ve never gotten as drowned in my home as the people featured on the show, but I know that I could.  I know that.  And so, we’re doing something about it.  After the show, I helped my daughter go through her armoire.  We quickly packed up a big bag of clothes, and toys and actually spotted a bit of her rug!!!  Baldman went with the boys and, shocker of all shockers, there were night tables under all the crap next to their beds!

The best part was that we all had fun.  Fun reclaiming spots in our home, fun thinking of the friends and others who would benefit from our extra, fun doing something so positive together.  My daughter actually said that she was having fun, and was feeling so good about getting her space back.  Yay for us.

Already this week, I’d taken bags and bags of clothes and books to Goodwill, filled bags for recycling, and shared a bag of boys’ clothes with a friend. And now we have bags and bags sitting waiting for more friends, more recyclables, and more to support Goodwill.  It feels so good.  It feels so freeing.  I think it’s for real this time.

I have other thoughts, but will save them for another time.  I need time with that best friend of mine.  One of the best things about a calm and peaceful home is being able to spend it with your most favorite person in the world.

In his five year old reality, summer seems another lifetime away.  Outside, snowflakes are rapidly falling to the sidewalks.  He’s home from another grueling week of Kindergarten, already changed out of his uniform and into his jammies.  He sits at the table, sipping hot chocolate.  It’s a great day, because he gets marshmallows AND whipped cream.  Life doesn’t get much better.  In his eyes, these chilly days are far removed from the pool and suntanned days of summer.

For me, it will be like the blink of an eye until their little browned bodies are running barefoot through the grass.  Just a quick flip of the calendar, and we’ll be seeing swimming lessons and days dedicated to the splashpark  littering the schedule.    Boots will be packed away, and socks will be forgotten for a season.  Bring out the Crocs and the flip-flops and we’ll all be ready to go.

Mommy time is so much different than kid time.  I sometimes feel like their birthdays come around weekly, and the time between Christmases seems to be only a matter of a few months.  Everyone told us that their growing up would fly by; told us until we were about to lose our patience hearing it.  Really, how many times can you politely smile at the same inane statement?  We knew it would be true; we know it has been true.  And yet, the reality of it seems to almost defy the laws of chronology.

So, in what will feel like a breath to me, and a lifetime to him, my little boy will trade his snowsuit and gloves for swimtrunks and goggles.  We’ll have a spring, summer and fall full of new friends, new activities, and far too many photos than the kids will ever want to entertain.  And a year from now, with the snowflakes falling and the cocoa steaming, I’ll wonder again, “How in the world has another year gone by?”

See the title at the top there?  THAT‘s the next place you’ll want to check out to make an appointment for yourself.  My good friend Deb Tarr is a massage therapist and is starting her own business.  Massage therapist, people, and she’s awesome.  I was treated to a hot bamboo massage, and it was amazing.  Deb is so professional, yet extremely personable, and very serious about her work.  I felt pampered, and definitely like the focus of that time was completely on making me feel rejuvenated, peaceful, and healthier than when I walked in the door.  Wonderful.

Deb’s business is currently located in At Peace Massage and Wellness in the Vandalia/Butler Township area.  If you’re familiar with the Benchwood Drive exit off of I-75 (formerly the Miller Lane exit), you’re just a hop and a skip from their location.

Check it out.  Let me know what you think. 

AND, if you’d be interested in attending a home-party massage, let me know!