Can I be honest with you?
I've been suffering from some pretty gnarly anxiety.
The kind that stops you in your tracks. The kind that makes it hard to breathe. The kind that leaves you unbelievably exhausted by the end of the day, yet also leaves you feeling like you've accomplished nothing.
What am I anxious over? Pretty much everything. I'm anxious that things won't go well at the kennel. I'm anxious over an upcoming trip. I'm anxious about how I'm raising Anna (which then makes me cranky and then makes me anxious because I'm cranky). I'm anxious over the thought that something might happen to those I love. I'm anxious over my health. I'm anxious over the weather. I'm anxious over the dogs and their health and how the weather is affecting them.
Running usually helps, and on the days that I run I feel exponentially less anxious. On the days I run long distances I'm significantly happier. On the days I run long distances and follow it up with a relaxing breakfast, I'm over the moon. However, that only happens a couple times a week, and I'm anxious every day.
Honestly, I don't think there's much of a point to this post. I just have to take a moment to recognize and confront this anxiety. I also want people to know that, even if you see I strong, confident woman (and I sincerely hope you do), I'm often a hot mess on the inside. I'm also human, and it would be wrong to assume that things in life don't affect me.
Thanks for listening.
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Suicide
Last week, we found out that a former employee committed suicide.
How's that for an opener?
This person worked for us for 2 years, but was fired 5 months ago due to erratic behavior and inappropriate interactions. Incidents from 5 months ago were the final straw in a long list of issues. Looking back now I see them for what they really were: the beginning of a downward spiral.
We all knew she was spiraling. Every one of us had tried to help her, to be her friend. Every one of us had supported her in whatever way we could, but her demons were too great, the struggle to hard.
The reactions among the staff are mixed. Some are angry, some feel bad for her family, and some just feel bad. There's a lot of emotion. It doesn't really matter what the emotion is. There's just a lot of it. I think we're all in shock, but we're not necessarily surprised. It's not that we didn't see this coming, but there was nothing more we could do to help her.
So many feel like they just didn't do enough, but how do you help someone who doesn't want help? At some point you have to save yourself.
This whole thing, though, has really made me think about suicide. What causes it? Is it a purely selfish act? Is one who commits suicide destined for an afterlife of despair?
I can't speak for everyone. I only know this one person. I remember her from 5 months ago. Troubled, but filled with so much potential. She had so much life to live, but she also had some extremely dark demons to battle.
It's true that the final act of suicide is an individual's choice, but there's a lot that leads up to it. I don't know of any happy individual who just wakes up one day and says, "Well, I'm done with life today." Most don't have to find a reason to keep living. They're happy to continue on. This individual, however, battled every day. Would today be a good day or a bad day? What demons would she have to confront? She saw herself as worthless and unwanted, and so she assumed the worst of others as well; always assuming they were judging her or scolding her. Her defenses were always up. In fact this was a conversation she and I routinely came back to. I wanted her to try to view others in a more positive light with the hopes that she would eventually view herself in a more positive light.
Many people did, in fact, accuse her of being a selfish individual (long before last week), but I think selfishness is the wrong word. I'd choose scared, uncertain, anxious. Her "selfishness" was a defense mechanism. It was false-bravado in a world she was certain was out to get her.
I can't condemn her to Hell because of this final act. First, it's not my place to condemn or judge. But even if it were, forgiveness would be in order. I truly believe she just couldn't fight anymore. She was tired, she was worn down. Would you blame a cancer patient for dying? Would you say they were selfish by not fighting anymore? Would you blame yourself for not being there for them enough? Actually, I can say first hand that you might. Survivor's guilt is real, but if you speak to anyone they'd tell you this isn't your fault. In fact, they'd probably say it's no one's fault. The battle was just too hard.
Forgiveness is important. It's just as important for suicide victims as it is for cancer victims. We have to forgive ourselves for not being able to give more. We have to forgive the victims (yes, they're both victims here) for no longer fighting. We also have to realize and accept that the person is no longer in pain. The daily pain, the daily struggle is over, and we can only hope that they're at peace.
In the mean time, I will continue to pray. I'll pray for anyone struggling with disease, whether it's mental or physical. I'll pray that they find peace and love in their lives. I'll pray that, no matter what the end is, they know in their very final moments that they're never alone. I will pray.
How's that for an opener?
This person worked for us for 2 years, but was fired 5 months ago due to erratic behavior and inappropriate interactions. Incidents from 5 months ago were the final straw in a long list of issues. Looking back now I see them for what they really were: the beginning of a downward spiral.
We all knew she was spiraling. Every one of us had tried to help her, to be her friend. Every one of us had supported her in whatever way we could, but her demons were too great, the struggle to hard.
The reactions among the staff are mixed. Some are angry, some feel bad for her family, and some just feel bad. There's a lot of emotion. It doesn't really matter what the emotion is. There's just a lot of it. I think we're all in shock, but we're not necessarily surprised. It's not that we didn't see this coming, but there was nothing more we could do to help her.
So many feel like they just didn't do enough, but how do you help someone who doesn't want help? At some point you have to save yourself.
This whole thing, though, has really made me think about suicide. What causes it? Is it a purely selfish act? Is one who commits suicide destined for an afterlife of despair?
I can't speak for everyone. I only know this one person. I remember her from 5 months ago. Troubled, but filled with so much potential. She had so much life to live, but she also had some extremely dark demons to battle.
It's true that the final act of suicide is an individual's choice, but there's a lot that leads up to it. I don't know of any happy individual who just wakes up one day and says, "Well, I'm done with life today." Most don't have to find a reason to keep living. They're happy to continue on. This individual, however, battled every day. Would today be a good day or a bad day? What demons would she have to confront? She saw herself as worthless and unwanted, and so she assumed the worst of others as well; always assuming they were judging her or scolding her. Her defenses were always up. In fact this was a conversation she and I routinely came back to. I wanted her to try to view others in a more positive light with the hopes that she would eventually view herself in a more positive light.
Many people did, in fact, accuse her of being a selfish individual (long before last week), but I think selfishness is the wrong word. I'd choose scared, uncertain, anxious. Her "selfishness" was a defense mechanism. It was false-bravado in a world she was certain was out to get her.
I can't condemn her to Hell because of this final act. First, it's not my place to condemn or judge. But even if it were, forgiveness would be in order. I truly believe she just couldn't fight anymore. She was tired, she was worn down. Would you blame a cancer patient for dying? Would you say they were selfish by not fighting anymore? Would you blame yourself for not being there for them enough? Actually, I can say first hand that you might. Survivor's guilt is real, but if you speak to anyone they'd tell you this isn't your fault. In fact, they'd probably say it's no one's fault. The battle was just too hard.
Forgiveness is important. It's just as important for suicide victims as it is for cancer victims. We have to forgive ourselves for not being able to give more. We have to forgive the victims (yes, they're both victims here) for no longer fighting. We also have to realize and accept that the person is no longer in pain. The daily pain, the daily struggle is over, and we can only hope that they're at peace.
In the mean time, I will continue to pray. I'll pray for anyone struggling with disease, whether it's mental or physical. I'll pray that they find peace and love in their lives. I'll pray that, no matter what the end is, they know in their very final moments that they're never alone. I will pray.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Running Isn't a Choice For Me
Hey all! If you've read pretty much any of my posts, you'll know that I love running. I've run multiple marathons, I ran through 35 weeks of my 37 week pregnancy, and I routinely run at least 3 mornings every week. In order to do this, I wake up at 4:30 every morning (sometimes earlier). It leaves me tired and hungry, and I often have people ask me why I do it. Why do I feel the need to wake up at 4:30 am to run 4 miles when I've just pulled a 13 hour shift at the kennel that had me on my feet all day? Why do I wake up early Saturday morning, when I could be sleeping in, to run 18+ miles? After a long run, I physically hurt and often require some recovery time. Why do I put myself through that? Well, let me tell you, it isn't easy. I don't always make it out. Sometimes illness or just over-fatigue wins out. It requires a lot of support from a very understanding husband. And sometimes I just don't want to. But, quitting running isn't an option. Let me give you some background.
First, you should know how I got into running. My dad was a high school / college track star, so running was always kind of glorified in my household. However, I was never really into it (I was much more the book nerd, and I wasn't particularly fast anyway). In college, however, my lack of physical activity caught up with me. I gained weight quickly, and it wasn't long before the scale climbed over 200 lb. I first started running as a way to lose weight. I ran on the treadmill, and the only goal I ever set was to run 1 mile without having to walk. I think I achieved that goal one time before I was in a car accident that caused some bad whip lash and set me back considerably. It wasn't until 2011 that I started running again as a way to exercise with Cody. That's when I ran my first 5k.
In 2012, though, I had some weird health things going on. First, I really started struggling to breathe. The best description was air hunger. I just couldn't get a deep enough breath. It wasn't constant, but it was regular. It would happen at least once a day, often multiple times, and it could last anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours. In addition, I developed a bad rash on my leg. It was mildly itchy, but more than anything it was unsightly. The doctor suspected sarcoidosis and order a barrage of tests. X-rays, an EKG II, ultrasounds, and a dermatologist appointment ruled out sarcoidosis, but it didn't give us an answer. I continued running.
Since my 5k had gone fairly well, I was interested in a 10k, so I started increasing the mileage. The day I ran my first 6 miler was such a huge achievement. I was SO tired afterward, and I felt I could barely move, but I'd run the whole way (even up a steep hill), and Cody had run with me. At the end of the night, I realized something. I hadn't had any trouble breathing that day. Keep in mind, I'd had issues with air hunger every single day for 6+ months, and all of a sudden it was better. That was huge. So, I kept running. My breathing issues stayed gone, and as I changed my diet to better fuel my runs, my skin got better too.
All stayed well until 2015. That's when things got really bad with Mom. On the days I didn't run, I had trouble breathing. Sometimes I had trouble breathing even on days I did run. But the long runs always saved me. Pretty much anything over 12 miles meant I'd have a good day breathing. If I couldn't run far, I'd run hard. Harder, faster, stronger meant I'd be more tired, but I'd breathe better the rest of the day. Those runs carried me through the loss of my mother.
If you haven't figured it out yet, we've determined my breathing issues were a form of anxiety attacks. I was too wrapped up in my head. Running exhausts me to the point where I can't get that worked up, and it allows me time to meditate in my own way. Now, running is helping me in another way. It's allowing me to actually feel my emotions. My really long run days (16 or more miles) I generally end up crying before bed time. It's not from physical pain, but rather mental. When everything else is out of the way, and I've run to the point my guard is down, my body and mind allows my heart to feel things it normally can't. Some people go to therapy for this. I go for a run. It's what works for me.
Last month, I suffered a minor injury, and it had me side lined for a few weeks. Let me tell you, I was not a happy camper. I was sluggish and grouchy, and I hurt. Oh, and that air hunger came back with a vengeance. Coming back to running has been a wonderful experience. So, as I said, running isn't a choice for me. I have to do it. I love doing it, and stopping would cause me more pain than the act of running itself.
For those who ask why, the answer is that running has saved my life.
First, you should know how I got into running. My dad was a high school / college track star, so running was always kind of glorified in my household. However, I was never really into it (I was much more the book nerd, and I wasn't particularly fast anyway). In college, however, my lack of physical activity caught up with me. I gained weight quickly, and it wasn't long before the scale climbed over 200 lb. I first started running as a way to lose weight. I ran on the treadmill, and the only goal I ever set was to run 1 mile without having to walk. I think I achieved that goal one time before I was in a car accident that caused some bad whip lash and set me back considerably. It wasn't until 2011 that I started running again as a way to exercise with Cody. That's when I ran my first 5k.
In 2012, though, I had some weird health things going on. First, I really started struggling to breathe. The best description was air hunger. I just couldn't get a deep enough breath. It wasn't constant, but it was regular. It would happen at least once a day, often multiple times, and it could last anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours. In addition, I developed a bad rash on my leg. It was mildly itchy, but more than anything it was unsightly. The doctor suspected sarcoidosis and order a barrage of tests. X-rays, an EKG II, ultrasounds, and a dermatologist appointment ruled out sarcoidosis, but it didn't give us an answer. I continued running.
Since my 5k had gone fairly well, I was interested in a 10k, so I started increasing the mileage. The day I ran my first 6 miler was such a huge achievement. I was SO tired afterward, and I felt I could barely move, but I'd run the whole way (even up a steep hill), and Cody had run with me. At the end of the night, I realized something. I hadn't had any trouble breathing that day. Keep in mind, I'd had issues with air hunger every single day for 6+ months, and all of a sudden it was better. That was huge. So, I kept running. My breathing issues stayed gone, and as I changed my diet to better fuel my runs, my skin got better too.
All stayed well until 2015. That's when things got really bad with Mom. On the days I didn't run, I had trouble breathing. Sometimes I had trouble breathing even on days I did run. But the long runs always saved me. Pretty much anything over 12 miles meant I'd have a good day breathing. If I couldn't run far, I'd run hard. Harder, faster, stronger meant I'd be more tired, but I'd breathe better the rest of the day. Those runs carried me through the loss of my mother.
If you haven't figured it out yet, we've determined my breathing issues were a form of anxiety attacks. I was too wrapped up in my head. Running exhausts me to the point where I can't get that worked up, and it allows me time to meditate in my own way. Now, running is helping me in another way. It's allowing me to actually feel my emotions. My really long run days (16 or more miles) I generally end up crying before bed time. It's not from physical pain, but rather mental. When everything else is out of the way, and I've run to the point my guard is down, my body and mind allows my heart to feel things it normally can't. Some people go to therapy for this. I go for a run. It's what works for me.
Last month, I suffered a minor injury, and it had me side lined for a few weeks. Let me tell you, I was not a happy camper. I was sluggish and grouchy, and I hurt. Oh, and that air hunger came back with a vengeance. Coming back to running has been a wonderful experience. So, as I said, running isn't a choice for me. I have to do it. I love doing it, and stopping would cause me more pain than the act of running itself.
For those who ask why, the answer is that running has saved my life.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Immigration
There's plenty I could talk about when it comes to politics; health care, marriage rights, simple diplomacy, but there's one issue for which I have particularly strong feelings: Immigration.
It's important for you to know my family's past.
Sixty-seven and a half years ago my father was born in a displaced persons camp in post WWII Germany. My aunt was 4 years old at the time. My grandparents, neither of whom were Jewish (just to clarify), had suffered through unspeakable atrocities, many of which they kept secret until the day they died. My Baba (grandma) had a scar on her chest that 50 years later the doctors told us was most likely an acid burn, but she wouldn't tell us how or why it was there. They hadn't seen their families in ages, and their options were very limited. My great uncle immigrated to Australia. Returning home most likely would have meant death as the Ukraine was overtaken by Soviet Russia. My grandparents looked at the only option they had...some cousins who lived in Philadelphia.
Neither of my grandparents were particularly fluent in English. Both were blue collar workers. The only connection they had was family. Not a son, daughter, mother, or father. Just cousins.
My father came to the US when he was 6 months old. Ukrainian was his first language. When he started school, his mother would study along with him, learning the language through his Kindergarten homework. My grandfather opened a barber shop. My grandparents were hardworking, responsible individuals. My Baba eventually got a job at a bookbindery. To get to work, she walked a mile to the bus stop, and then rode the bus for an additional 3 miles. She did this every day, regardless of rain, sleet, or snow. When she returned from work, she would cook and clean for her family. My grandparents kept their kids in school and off the street.
My father excelled at basketball and track and field in high school. Thirty years after graduation, he was inducted into his school's Hall of Fame for his accomplishments in track and field. He studied at the University of Tennessee and later the University of Maryland on a scholarship. Some time after school he started a successful auto body repair business until a car pulled in front of him on a busy highway and he suffered serious injuries. After he recovered, he was unable to do heavy physical work, so he joined my mom in her accounting business, which he still runs today.
My father (and mother) made sure I studied hard and respected my teachers. My Baba instilled in me a solid work ethic, and she taught me the importance of confidence and self worth.
I now own a very successful dog kennel. I employ 15 people, and we're growing. I've been featured as one of the top 40 individual under 40 years old in my city, and my facility is routinely voted as one of the best.
I share all of this with you to say if the policies the current government is trying to put in place were in effect 67 years ago, my family would not be here.
I can't say what would have happened with my family, but we wouldn't be in the US, and we wouldn't be working to keep America the great nation that it is (we don't need to to "make it great." It's already wonderful). We didn't have strong connections in the US, we didn't have valuable skills, we didn't speak the language. We were poor refugees from a war-torn nation, and yet we were still given a chance. We were given a chance that many people now a days are being refused, and I just don't get it. I don't understand how anyone can support such policies. I know I can't. I hope that this post reminds people who do support these policies that they're often talking about their friends, neighbors, and own family members. I'll leave you with that and this quote, written on the Statue of Liberty:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
America is a nation of immigrants. Let's not refuse to help those who need it.
It's important for you to know my family's past.
Sixty-seven and a half years ago my father was born in a displaced persons camp in post WWII Germany. My aunt was 4 years old at the time. My grandparents, neither of whom were Jewish (just to clarify), had suffered through unspeakable atrocities, many of which they kept secret until the day they died. My Baba (grandma) had a scar on her chest that 50 years later the doctors told us was most likely an acid burn, but she wouldn't tell us how or why it was there. They hadn't seen their families in ages, and their options were very limited. My great uncle immigrated to Australia. Returning home most likely would have meant death as the Ukraine was overtaken by Soviet Russia. My grandparents looked at the only option they had...some cousins who lived in Philadelphia.
Neither of my grandparents were particularly fluent in English. Both were blue collar workers. The only connection they had was family. Not a son, daughter, mother, or father. Just cousins.
My father came to the US when he was 6 months old. Ukrainian was his first language. When he started school, his mother would study along with him, learning the language through his Kindergarten homework. My grandfather opened a barber shop. My grandparents were hardworking, responsible individuals. My Baba eventually got a job at a bookbindery. To get to work, she walked a mile to the bus stop, and then rode the bus for an additional 3 miles. She did this every day, regardless of rain, sleet, or snow. When she returned from work, she would cook and clean for her family. My grandparents kept their kids in school and off the street.
My father excelled at basketball and track and field in high school. Thirty years after graduation, he was inducted into his school's Hall of Fame for his accomplishments in track and field. He studied at the University of Tennessee and later the University of Maryland on a scholarship. Some time after school he started a successful auto body repair business until a car pulled in front of him on a busy highway and he suffered serious injuries. After he recovered, he was unable to do heavy physical work, so he joined my mom in her accounting business, which he still runs today.
My father (and mother) made sure I studied hard and respected my teachers. My Baba instilled in me a solid work ethic, and she taught me the importance of confidence and self worth.
I now own a very successful dog kennel. I employ 15 people, and we're growing. I've been featured as one of the top 40 individual under 40 years old in my city, and my facility is routinely voted as one of the best.
I share all of this with you to say if the policies the current government is trying to put in place were in effect 67 years ago, my family would not be here.
I can't say what would have happened with my family, but we wouldn't be in the US, and we wouldn't be working to keep America the great nation that it is (we don't need to to "make it great." It's already wonderful). We didn't have strong connections in the US, we didn't have valuable skills, we didn't speak the language. We were poor refugees from a war-torn nation, and yet we were still given a chance. We were given a chance that many people now a days are being refused, and I just don't get it. I don't understand how anyone can support such policies. I know I can't. I hope that this post reminds people who do support these policies that they're often talking about their friends, neighbors, and own family members. I'll leave you with that and this quote, written on the Statue of Liberty:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
America is a nation of immigrants. Let's not refuse to help those who need it.
Monday, July 10, 2017
Energy and TV
Anna has a ton of energy and no idea how to manage it. I've known for a while that she's an energetic child, but the complexities of this really hit me this past weekend. Until she was two, the rule was pretty much no TV. Then it became that screen time only happened on weekends. That's still the rule, but we'll bend the rule for mid-week sitters on if one of us is sick and just needs couch / bed time. The problem is that weekend TV was starting to mean a week's worth of TV crammed into 2 days- hours and hours of TV. By the end of the day, Anna was tired but she still had pent up energy. She'd release this energy by screaming, fighting, and being kind of awful in general.
So, this week, we changed the rule a bit. We allowed some screen time as we were running errands in the car, and we watched some TV for about an hour on Saturday morning, but otherwise we were outside doing things or inside being creative in the playroom. The change in Anna was amazing. Anna was getting the attention and the stimulation she so desperately needed, and she was really fun to be around. At the end of the day, she still protested that she wasn't tired, but she got ready for bed anyway. There weren't tears or screams or fighting.
A big change for us was church. Anna tends to not enjoy church because it means that she has to be still and quiet for an hour. That's hard for any 3 year old. This weekend, though, we cut the TV and played with her before our showers. Then we took her and all the dogs for a walk. Lastly, I told her if she was really good during church I'd let her watch her favorite show on the way to lunch and I reminded her of this a few times. She was absolutely perfect. She sat quietly and colored the whole time, she participated in the few parts of the Mass she's familiar with (Our Father and Sign of Peace), and she easily listened to directions during the Mass. At the end, she clearly remembered what we'd promised, because she said, "IT'S OVER!!! I can watch my show?"
I know it's just one weekend, and it may have just been a fluke, but the difference was amazing. Meals went smoother, she was eager to try new things, there were fewer tears over everything. Honestly, the biggest difference was that we did something other than TV time.
In the future, I need to remember this. I need to remember that TV may mean some time when I can sit. Where I can distract my child long enough for me to get a break. However, it also means that I'll want the break more because every other interaction with my daughter will be fighting against her energy and her demands. Instead of turning to TV when I'm lost as to what to do with her, maybe I'll take her for a walk. Maybe I'll take her to the pool. Maybe I'll grab the crayons and a coloring book and color with her. Whatever I do, by keeping the TV off, I'll keep my daughter and my family happier. That's definitely something worth remembering!
So, this week, we changed the rule a bit. We allowed some screen time as we were running errands in the car, and we watched some TV for about an hour on Saturday morning, but otherwise we were outside doing things or inside being creative in the playroom. The change in Anna was amazing. Anna was getting the attention and the stimulation she so desperately needed, and she was really fun to be around. At the end of the day, she still protested that she wasn't tired, but she got ready for bed anyway. There weren't tears or screams or fighting.
A big change for us was church. Anna tends to not enjoy church because it means that she has to be still and quiet for an hour. That's hard for any 3 year old. This weekend, though, we cut the TV and played with her before our showers. Then we took her and all the dogs for a walk. Lastly, I told her if she was really good during church I'd let her watch her favorite show on the way to lunch and I reminded her of this a few times. She was absolutely perfect. She sat quietly and colored the whole time, she participated in the few parts of the Mass she's familiar with (Our Father and Sign of Peace), and she easily listened to directions during the Mass. At the end, she clearly remembered what we'd promised, because she said, "IT'S OVER!!! I can watch my show?"
I know it's just one weekend, and it may have just been a fluke, but the difference was amazing. Meals went smoother, she was eager to try new things, there were fewer tears over everything. Honestly, the biggest difference was that we did something other than TV time.
In the future, I need to remember this. I need to remember that TV may mean some time when I can sit. Where I can distract my child long enough for me to get a break. However, it also means that I'll want the break more because every other interaction with my daughter will be fighting against her energy and her demands. Instead of turning to TV when I'm lost as to what to do with her, maybe I'll take her for a walk. Maybe I'll take her to the pool. Maybe I'll grab the crayons and a coloring book and color with her. Whatever I do, by keeping the TV off, I'll keep my daughter and my family happier. That's definitely something worth remembering!
Thursday, July 6, 2017
10 Years
Cody turns 10 today.
I'm not quite sure what to write. Words don't come easy to me, and I cannot begin to stress to importance of this dog in my life. For someone who has never owned a dog or who has never been effected by a dog, you can never understand, and I can't explain it.
Cody came into my life right after college. In most respects I was happy. I was back home, I was newly married, and finances were decent. I didn't have too many commitments (part-time job, volunteering, etc), but I really wanted a dog. Hans and I lived with Dad at the time (hence the decent financial situation), and he was completely against a dog. So, I proceeded to beg. I researched breeds and breeders, I consistently cleaned the entire house, I did extra work for him, all with the hopes that he'd see this and consent to a dog. Well, I have a pretty awesome dad, because my plan worked. Two weeks before my birthday, Dad told me he'd consent to me getting a dog IF I got a doodle (he thought they were cool). I'd figured that would be the case, so I'd been researching, and there was only 1 breeder in the area who had a dog available before Christmas. Since my birthday is in October, I wasn't willing to wait that long.
I called the breeder immediately and told her I'd be there in 2 days, when both Hans and I could take the day off work. The second I saw Cody, I dropped to my knees so he'd come to me, and I fell in love. He was clearly nervous, but he let me hold him and he snuggled. It wasn't until the next day when, after a few treats and little sleep the night before he crawled into my lap and fell asleep. That started the most amazing relationship.
Cody has completely shaped my life. Since the second I got him, everything I've done has been with him in mind. The ease with which I trained him encouraged me to pursue training as a career. Caring for him and playing with him eased anxiety in a variety of situations. I became more social, more comfortable around others (particularly kids). He helps to keep me educated on health issues because I want to know more about what's going on with him. One of the reasons I started running was to give him more exercise!
Cody has been with me through so much. He's seen me through long days at the kennel. After our first week open, he slept for 36 hours straight! When I was first pregnant with Anna, one of the things that made me wonder if I was pregnant was how he acted around me. He was super-protective and would constantly lay across my mid-section. So, yes, I'm certain he knew I was expecting before I did. He was there for me when Anna was first born. There were a few occasions when I couldn't get Anna to stop crying, so I'd hand her to Hans, take Cody to the bathroom where I could have a moment of uninterrupted silence, and I'd just hold Cody, calming myself down. He was there for me when Mom got sick. He let me cry, he didn't ask for anything when I was too tired or too stressed to walk him, and he accepted her dogs as new and welcome members of the family. When she eventually passed, he came with me as I went hiking, trying to escape my situation, and he stayed in bed with me when I was too grief-stricken to function properly.
Cody has always been my easy dog. Sure, he's not perfect, but he's my easy dog. I've loved every moment I've had with him. He's the best dog for career days at elementary schools because he's friendly, he's fluffy, and he does tricks. He comes with me to shows. He's fun to groom. Saying I love this dog isn't enough. I'm not sure there are words to express all that he's meant in my life.
So, today, Cody is 10 years old. He's past middle age. He's a senior citizen. I know he won't be in my life forever. One of the great tragedies of life is that dogs don't live as long as humans. But he will forever shape my life. My wonderful, beautiful Cody.
I'm not quite sure what to write. Words don't come easy to me, and I cannot begin to stress to importance of this dog in my life. For someone who has never owned a dog or who has never been effected by a dog, you can never understand, and I can't explain it.
Cody came into my life right after college. In most respects I was happy. I was back home, I was newly married, and finances were decent. I didn't have too many commitments (part-time job, volunteering, etc), but I really wanted a dog. Hans and I lived with Dad at the time (hence the decent financial situation), and he was completely against a dog. So, I proceeded to beg. I researched breeds and breeders, I consistently cleaned the entire house, I did extra work for him, all with the hopes that he'd see this and consent to a dog. Well, I have a pretty awesome dad, because my plan worked. Two weeks before my birthday, Dad told me he'd consent to me getting a dog IF I got a doodle (he thought they were cool). I'd figured that would be the case, so I'd been researching, and there was only 1 breeder in the area who had a dog available before Christmas. Since my birthday is in October, I wasn't willing to wait that long.
I called the breeder immediately and told her I'd be there in 2 days, when both Hans and I could take the day off work. The second I saw Cody, I dropped to my knees so he'd come to me, and I fell in love. He was clearly nervous, but he let me hold him and he snuggled. It wasn't until the next day when, after a few treats and little sleep the night before he crawled into my lap and fell asleep. That started the most amazing relationship.
Cody has completely shaped my life. Since the second I got him, everything I've done has been with him in mind. The ease with which I trained him encouraged me to pursue training as a career. Caring for him and playing with him eased anxiety in a variety of situations. I became more social, more comfortable around others (particularly kids). He helps to keep me educated on health issues because I want to know more about what's going on with him. One of the reasons I started running was to give him more exercise!
Cody has been with me through so much. He's seen me through long days at the kennel. After our first week open, he slept for 36 hours straight! When I was first pregnant with Anna, one of the things that made me wonder if I was pregnant was how he acted around me. He was super-protective and would constantly lay across my mid-section. So, yes, I'm certain he knew I was expecting before I did. He was there for me when Anna was first born. There were a few occasions when I couldn't get Anna to stop crying, so I'd hand her to Hans, take Cody to the bathroom where I could have a moment of uninterrupted silence, and I'd just hold Cody, calming myself down. He was there for me when Mom got sick. He let me cry, he didn't ask for anything when I was too tired or too stressed to walk him, and he accepted her dogs as new and welcome members of the family. When she eventually passed, he came with me as I went hiking, trying to escape my situation, and he stayed in bed with me when I was too grief-stricken to function properly.
Cody has always been my easy dog. Sure, he's not perfect, but he's my easy dog. I've loved every moment I've had with him. He's the best dog for career days at elementary schools because he's friendly, he's fluffy, and he does tricks. He comes with me to shows. He's fun to groom. Saying I love this dog isn't enough. I'm not sure there are words to express all that he's meant in my life.
So, today, Cody is 10 years old. He's past middle age. He's a senior citizen. I know he won't be in my life forever. One of the great tragedies of life is that dogs don't live as long as humans. But he will forever shape my life. My wonderful, beautiful Cody.
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
The Past Week
Guys, so much has been going on this past week! I'm exhausted, relaxed, and happy.
First, we had Anna's birthday party. She turned 3, and we decided to invite her entire daycare class thinking maybe 5 or 6 would come. Somehow we ended up entertaining 20 toddlers and their parents! Luckily we had rented out a space that could accommodate everyone. We hosted the party at a local farm, so all the kids had a blast. We played pin the tail on the donkey and horseshoes, we had delicious cupcakes, and everyone got to feed goats at the end. Anna came home and slept for a long time.
That said, she now does not understand that not every party is for her birthday. Sunday was my best friend's birthday. When we told Anna, she got a little pouty and pointed to herself to say it was her birthday. When a character in a book we're reading to her celebrated a birthday, she told us, "No. My birthday!" Ah, the joys of an only child.
In non-child news, did I mention we're expanding the kennel? The big move in day is this Saturday, and I'm so excited. It's really just an expansion of our grooming and training, but it will give us a lot more space to work, and it will allow us to have more than one groomer. That's huge! So, we're spending a lot of time prepping for the move in, and we're busy planning an open house, so that's all keeping us on our toes. I'm a little nervous as to how everything will work out, but I have the feeling it will all go really well, even if there are a few hiccups along the way.
That said, I kind of have to get back to work. So much to do, but I did want to give y'all an update! Talk to ya soon!
First, we had Anna's birthday party. She turned 3, and we decided to invite her entire daycare class thinking maybe 5 or 6 would come. Somehow we ended up entertaining 20 toddlers and their parents! Luckily we had rented out a space that could accommodate everyone. We hosted the party at a local farm, so all the kids had a blast. We played pin the tail on the donkey and horseshoes, we had delicious cupcakes, and everyone got to feed goats at the end. Anna came home and slept for a long time.
That said, she now does not understand that not every party is for her birthday. Sunday was my best friend's birthday. When we told Anna, she got a little pouty and pointed to herself to say it was her birthday. When a character in a book we're reading to her celebrated a birthday, she told us, "No. My birthday!" Ah, the joys of an only child.
In non-child news, did I mention we're expanding the kennel? The big move in day is this Saturday, and I'm so excited. It's really just an expansion of our grooming and training, but it will give us a lot more space to work, and it will allow us to have more than one groomer. That's huge! So, we're spending a lot of time prepping for the move in, and we're busy planning an open house, so that's all keeping us on our toes. I'm a little nervous as to how everything will work out, but I have the feeling it will all go really well, even if there are a few hiccups along the way.
That said, I kind of have to get back to work. So much to do, but I did want to give y'all an update! Talk to ya soon!
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Thirteen Reasons Why
Unless you live under a rock, you've probably heard of the new Netflix series 'Thirteen Reasons Why.' If you haven't heard of it, I'll sum it up for you. It's a fictional account of a true event where a young girl committed suicide and left tapes that laid out the thirteen reasons (people) she felt she had to end her life. It has created a lot of controversy lately. Some say it glorifies suicide, while others say it's a good way to start a dialogue. Some say it lays blame on external sources, while others point out how much the world around us can affect us. I'll say now that I know nothing about the true life subject of this series (other than what Netflix has told me), nor do I live in this modern age of technology as our current teens do. I can, however, talk about bullying, and I do have strong opinions about suicide in relation to such.
I've mentioned to a few people in the past that I just don't understand why kids are committing suicide due to bullying. Kids are mean, it's true, but that's no reason to kill yourself. The response I've gotten is pretty much, "You just don't get it." So, let me tell you a bit about me.
First of all, I'm now a self-professed nerd. I love geeky things, and I get really hyped up over school-related things. I love homework assignments and reading, and I get really excited over spelling bees. That's who I am now, though. When I was an adolescent, however, I hadn't quite embraced myself yet, and things were a lot harder.
Like most people, middle school was the hardest for me. I know a lot of people say that, but few had it to the extent I did. Even my best friend, whom I met during my middle school years, didn't understand how hard I had it. She was a grade below me, and she couldn't figure out why I got so upset when she hung out with some of my class mates. It wasn't until the past few years when I told her just how cruel they were that she understood.
Back in middle school, not only was I a nerd, but I was also kind of a know-it-all. I loved the phrase, "Well, actually..." I was competitive, but not great at sports, I was easily frustrated, and I was incredibly awkward. Puberty also hit me extremely hard, my bathing habits could have been better, and I was definitely NOT a great dresser. Add to all that, I was the new student in a school where the majority of my classmates had known each other since kindergarten and you have the recipe for disaster.
I started school off hopeful. I did, in fact, already know a couple of students, so I figured I'd have friends. I was also open to make plenty of new friends, and I'd like to think I wasn't one of those kids who would only seek out the "cool" kids. I'm not quite sure where / how, but something went wrong at some point.
First, the kids picked on my style. We all wore uniforms, so you'd think this would be difficult, but no. My shoes were too clunky, I wore my skirt too high, AND my skirt was too long. I wore the wrong bracelets, my socks were rolled wrong. Anything they could pick out they would.
Next came my grooming. Puberty hit and so did acne. Names such as Volcano-face and pizza-face were just a few. My hair turned both greasy and curly, and I had dandruff. Kids took to standing next to me and declaring it was snowing. "Hey look guys! Val shook her head! Maybe we'll have a snow day." As I attempted to tame my newly curly hair with every form of hair cut, styling product, and lots of brushes (I knew nothing about curly hair), I got a whole new litany of insults thrown at me. After one particularly bad hair cut a certain girl decided to give me the nickname of Bush (I'm assuming / hoping this was a very PG nickname). That name stuck with me for a good 3 years...even after I started straightening my hair and pulling it back into a pony tail.
And then came the attacks on my love life. These were some of the worst. One girl asked me if I liked anyone in the class above ours. We'd been having a laugh a few minutes earlier so I jokingly said, "Oh sure. The [really jerky, pain in the ass guy]. She laughed along with me over that one ,but then decided to tell everyone I was madly in love with that guy.
Luckily, there wasn't the modern technology back then that there was today, so I was left along when I was at home, right? WRONG. The first phone call came when someone decided it would be funny to pretend to be my actual crush and ask me out. I was so happy to get that call. I couldn't believe that someone I liked might actually like me back. When I went to school the next day I was greeted with snickering and jeering. It had all been a hoax to make me look like a fool. The next time they called I was wiser. I demanded to know who it actually was, and they hung up. When I went to school the next day, however, they'd simply told the story how they'd wanted it to go. Since I'd fallen for it the first time, I must have been gullible enough to fall for it again, right? I tried approaching the person they'd pretended to be, but he just yelled at me that he didn't like me and to stay away from him.
Oh, and it didn't end there. When my dad subbed for the gym teacher they said cruel things about him too. Those things aren't even worth repeating.
They started doing things just to get a reaction out of me; placing things on my back, calling me names, passing notes to and about me, stealing homework. It didn't end. Life was hell from 8:05 am until 2:45 pm, and even if I was left alone when I went home, I was just that. Alone. I cried so many times. All I wanted was one good friend. Someone I could have lunch with and talk to without worrying that they'd turn on me. I might have been OK, if I'd been allowed to read during free time and lunch, but the teachers declared that was for "social" time. Stupid teachers.
For three years I went through life without a friend. Yes, I mentioned I met my best friend back during middle school, but back then our friendship was new and budding. We didn't share any classes nor did we have any time during school together (lunch was separate). And yet, through it all, suicide never even struck me as an option. I never thought about it. I'll admit I'm still dealing with a lot of the damage they caused, and making friends is and EXTREMELY difficult thing for me to do, but suicide was never an option. They never had that kind of power over me.
So, what's the difference between me and these other kids? Are kids now a days really so much meaner? I was the least-liked kid in my class for 3 years, and I can't say I was that popular in high school (although high school was a significant improvement), yet suicide wasn't an option. Are young people being desensitized to the idea of suicide? Is it something in the diet? What exactly am I missing. Kids suck, it's true. I still don't quite know how to handle teenagers, and I'm pretty sure they still think I'm a major geek, but when did that start being motivation for suicide?
Can someone please help me out here? I just don't get it.
I've mentioned to a few people in the past that I just don't understand why kids are committing suicide due to bullying. Kids are mean, it's true, but that's no reason to kill yourself. The response I've gotten is pretty much, "You just don't get it." So, let me tell you a bit about me.
First of all, I'm now a self-professed nerd. I love geeky things, and I get really hyped up over school-related things. I love homework assignments and reading, and I get really excited over spelling bees. That's who I am now, though. When I was an adolescent, however, I hadn't quite embraced myself yet, and things were a lot harder.
Like most people, middle school was the hardest for me. I know a lot of people say that, but few had it to the extent I did. Even my best friend, whom I met during my middle school years, didn't understand how hard I had it. She was a grade below me, and she couldn't figure out why I got so upset when she hung out with some of my class mates. It wasn't until the past few years when I told her just how cruel they were that she understood.
Back in middle school, not only was I a nerd, but I was also kind of a know-it-all. I loved the phrase, "Well, actually..." I was competitive, but not great at sports, I was easily frustrated, and I was incredibly awkward. Puberty also hit me extremely hard, my bathing habits could have been better, and I was definitely NOT a great dresser. Add to all that, I was the new student in a school where the majority of my classmates had known each other since kindergarten and you have the recipe for disaster.
I started school off hopeful. I did, in fact, already know a couple of students, so I figured I'd have friends. I was also open to make plenty of new friends, and I'd like to think I wasn't one of those kids who would only seek out the "cool" kids. I'm not quite sure where / how, but something went wrong at some point.
First, the kids picked on my style. We all wore uniforms, so you'd think this would be difficult, but no. My shoes were too clunky, I wore my skirt too high, AND my skirt was too long. I wore the wrong bracelets, my socks were rolled wrong. Anything they could pick out they would.
Next came my grooming. Puberty hit and so did acne. Names such as Volcano-face and pizza-face were just a few. My hair turned both greasy and curly, and I had dandruff. Kids took to standing next to me and declaring it was snowing. "Hey look guys! Val shook her head! Maybe we'll have a snow day." As I attempted to tame my newly curly hair with every form of hair cut, styling product, and lots of brushes (I knew nothing about curly hair), I got a whole new litany of insults thrown at me. After one particularly bad hair cut a certain girl decided to give me the nickname of Bush (I'm assuming / hoping this was a very PG nickname). That name stuck with me for a good 3 years...even after I started straightening my hair and pulling it back into a pony tail.
And then came the attacks on my love life. These were some of the worst. One girl asked me if I liked anyone in the class above ours. We'd been having a laugh a few minutes earlier so I jokingly said, "Oh sure. The [really jerky, pain in the ass guy]. She laughed along with me over that one ,but then decided to tell everyone I was madly in love with that guy.
Luckily, there wasn't the modern technology back then that there was today, so I was left along when I was at home, right? WRONG. The first phone call came when someone decided it would be funny to pretend to be my actual crush and ask me out. I was so happy to get that call. I couldn't believe that someone I liked might actually like me back. When I went to school the next day I was greeted with snickering and jeering. It had all been a hoax to make me look like a fool. The next time they called I was wiser. I demanded to know who it actually was, and they hung up. When I went to school the next day, however, they'd simply told the story how they'd wanted it to go. Since I'd fallen for it the first time, I must have been gullible enough to fall for it again, right? I tried approaching the person they'd pretended to be, but he just yelled at me that he didn't like me and to stay away from him.
Oh, and it didn't end there. When my dad subbed for the gym teacher they said cruel things about him too. Those things aren't even worth repeating.
They started doing things just to get a reaction out of me; placing things on my back, calling me names, passing notes to and about me, stealing homework. It didn't end. Life was hell from 8:05 am until 2:45 pm, and even if I was left alone when I went home, I was just that. Alone. I cried so many times. All I wanted was one good friend. Someone I could have lunch with and talk to without worrying that they'd turn on me. I might have been OK, if I'd been allowed to read during free time and lunch, but the teachers declared that was for "social" time. Stupid teachers.
For three years I went through life without a friend. Yes, I mentioned I met my best friend back during middle school, but back then our friendship was new and budding. We didn't share any classes nor did we have any time during school together (lunch was separate). And yet, through it all, suicide never even struck me as an option. I never thought about it. I'll admit I'm still dealing with a lot of the damage they caused, and making friends is and EXTREMELY difficult thing for me to do, but suicide was never an option. They never had that kind of power over me.
So, what's the difference between me and these other kids? Are kids now a days really so much meaner? I was the least-liked kid in my class for 3 years, and I can't say I was that popular in high school (although high school was a significant improvement), yet suicide wasn't an option. Are young people being desensitized to the idea of suicide? Is it something in the diet? What exactly am I missing. Kids suck, it's true. I still don't quite know how to handle teenagers, and I'm pretty sure they still think I'm a major geek, but when did that start being motivation for suicide?
Can someone please help me out here? I just don't get it.
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Epic Tantrums
More on the darling daughter front:
Anna turns 3 in one week. This is so hard for me to believe. She's funny, she's smart, she's gorgeous (of course I'm biased).
She's also strong-willed, opinionated, and determined. These are all traits which will serve her quite well later in life...if I let her make it until later in life. ;)
Last week was the most wonderful, perfect week. Anna and I were both relaxed and happy and just in sync. This week...UGH! Anna has been clingy, needy, and demanding! If I'm honest, I think she may be fighting a mild virus, but I'm about to go insane. She won't let Hans help with anything, and any challenge is met with screaming and ugly faces. And then there was yesterday.
Yesterday morning went fairly well. She was a little fussy, but we had a play date scheduled with a friend and she was excited, so that moved her along nicely. The time with her friend went beautifully, so no complaints there. When she woke up after nap her mood was fine. We didn't really have anything planned or anywhere to be, but I did have to get to the grocery store, so I asked her if she wanted to leave right away or if she wanted to wait for Daddy to come home. She wanted to wait, so we played in the play room for a bit. She was happy.
The melt down started about 5 seconds after we arrived at the store. First, she wanted a little cart. That store didn't have a little cart. I told her if she could find one she could push it. She stopped crying for a few minutes and looked around, and when she couldn't find one she started screaming. I picked her up and carried her into the store while Hans grabbed a cart. I then distracted her by asking her to find certain items. This was a fun little chore because she wanted to grab about 15 of each item, and we really don't need 15 onions or 15 potatoes. When I tried to place some back on the shelf she would scream. I was trying to keep my cool, so I'd just distract her and sneak the items back to the shelf. By now, though, I was nearing the end of my rope. Of course, Kroger didn't have half of what we needed in stock. What type of grocery store doesn't have bananas, cucumbers, or half & half? So, I was frustrated with the store for not being well stocked.
After the produce section, Anna really wanted to push the big cart. This is normally fine, as she's just tall enough to reach the push bar, but this cart was a little wonky, and kept wanting to veer to one side or the other. And Anna kept running into things. In an attempt to not break stuff, I would steer the front of cart, which prompted Anna to scream in her banshee voice, "NO! You Don't Touch!" By this point I'd had it. I mean, I'd kept my cool. I was trying to keep things fun. But it's really unacceptable for her to yell at me like that. So, I warned her that if she yelled at Mommy and Daddy like that again we would leave the store. No sooner had I finished that sentence than did she yell, "NOOOOOO!!! I STAY!!! GO AWAY!!!" and shoved my hand off the cart again. I told Hans to pay for what was already in the cart, and I scooped up Anna and carried her back to the car. She was screaming, "Daddy! I want Daddy!" and I'm fairly certain some people may have been concerned that I was abducting a child, but we made it to the car where I somehow got her in the car seat.
After that we had to get the dogs from the kennel, and I figured she'd settle down on the ride over there. She screamed for 15 minutes, "I want to PAY!" meaning she wanted to go back to the grocery store and play at the check out. I got the dogs and came back to the car to my still-screaming child. Hans then reminded me I needed a new library card, and the library was 2 blocks away, so I decided to make a quick stop. Anna cried all through the 5 minutes I was inside (keep in mind Hans was still with her).
I got back in the car and said, "OK, time to go home" and I was met with, "NOOOOO! I want to go somewhere! Please! I want to go somewhere with you! NOOOOO! I don't want to go home! I want to go that way." She would alternate between sniffling softly and utter screams. By the time we reached home an hour had passed and she was still screaming.
When we got in the house, I tried to calm her a little and Hans put up groceries. It was at that point she started screaming, "I want to try me! I want to try me!" I thought I was may misunderstanding her, so I tried to ask her if she meant something else, but she only answered in the affirmative when I asked if she wanted to "Try you." I'm still not certain what she was trying to say, but she eventually ran into the kitchen and picked up the onion we had purchased. I tried to convince her that she did not want to try raw onion, but she wasn't having it. She wanted to try it, and she didn't want green beans, and she didn't want tomato (it was actually potato). I finally pulled out some of the cut onion we had in the fridge and asked her if she wanted to try that. She grabbed a handful of onion and shoved it in her mouth, while I prepared myself for a fresh round of tears.
Can I just say now, that my child is weird!? She LOVED the onion! After she had tasted her handful, she got this huge smile on her face and took a few more handfuls. I asked if she liked it, and she said, "Yeah!" Now, maybe she was just trying to prove a point, and if that's the case I'm terrified for when she's 13, but things were fine the rest of the evening. She ate her beans and potato (although no chicken), and she danced to Simon and Garfunkel, and she went to bed fairly easily.
I'm not quite sure what happened last night, but I do know I sat through 1.5 hours of screaming and I went to bed utterly exhausted. Please don't let this be what the rest of year 3 will be like!
Anna turns 3 in one week. This is so hard for me to believe. She's funny, she's smart, she's gorgeous (of course I'm biased).
She's also strong-willed, opinionated, and determined. These are all traits which will serve her quite well later in life...if I let her make it until later in life. ;)
Last week was the most wonderful, perfect week. Anna and I were both relaxed and happy and just in sync. This week...UGH! Anna has been clingy, needy, and demanding! If I'm honest, I think she may be fighting a mild virus, but I'm about to go insane. She won't let Hans help with anything, and any challenge is met with screaming and ugly faces. And then there was yesterday.
Yesterday morning went fairly well. She was a little fussy, but we had a play date scheduled with a friend and she was excited, so that moved her along nicely. The time with her friend went beautifully, so no complaints there. When she woke up after nap her mood was fine. We didn't really have anything planned or anywhere to be, but I did have to get to the grocery store, so I asked her if she wanted to leave right away or if she wanted to wait for Daddy to come home. She wanted to wait, so we played in the play room for a bit. She was happy.
The melt down started about 5 seconds after we arrived at the store. First, she wanted a little cart. That store didn't have a little cart. I told her if she could find one she could push it. She stopped crying for a few minutes and looked around, and when she couldn't find one she started screaming. I picked her up and carried her into the store while Hans grabbed a cart. I then distracted her by asking her to find certain items. This was a fun little chore because she wanted to grab about 15 of each item, and we really don't need 15 onions or 15 potatoes. When I tried to place some back on the shelf she would scream. I was trying to keep my cool, so I'd just distract her and sneak the items back to the shelf. By now, though, I was nearing the end of my rope. Of course, Kroger didn't have half of what we needed in stock. What type of grocery store doesn't have bananas, cucumbers, or half & half? So, I was frustrated with the store for not being well stocked.
After the produce section, Anna really wanted to push the big cart. This is normally fine, as she's just tall enough to reach the push bar, but this cart was a little wonky, and kept wanting to veer to one side or the other. And Anna kept running into things. In an attempt to not break stuff, I would steer the front of cart, which prompted Anna to scream in her banshee voice, "NO! You Don't Touch!" By this point I'd had it. I mean, I'd kept my cool. I was trying to keep things fun. But it's really unacceptable for her to yell at me like that. So, I warned her that if she yelled at Mommy and Daddy like that again we would leave the store. No sooner had I finished that sentence than did she yell, "NOOOOOO!!! I STAY!!! GO AWAY!!!" and shoved my hand off the cart again. I told Hans to pay for what was already in the cart, and I scooped up Anna and carried her back to the car. She was screaming, "Daddy! I want Daddy!" and I'm fairly certain some people may have been concerned that I was abducting a child, but we made it to the car where I somehow got her in the car seat.
After that we had to get the dogs from the kennel, and I figured she'd settle down on the ride over there. She screamed for 15 minutes, "I want to PAY!" meaning she wanted to go back to the grocery store and play at the check out. I got the dogs and came back to the car to my still-screaming child. Hans then reminded me I needed a new library card, and the library was 2 blocks away, so I decided to make a quick stop. Anna cried all through the 5 minutes I was inside (keep in mind Hans was still with her).
I got back in the car and said, "OK, time to go home" and I was met with, "NOOOOO! I want to go somewhere! Please! I want to go somewhere with you! NOOOOO! I don't want to go home! I want to go that way." She would alternate between sniffling softly and utter screams. By the time we reached home an hour had passed and she was still screaming.
When we got in the house, I tried to calm her a little and Hans put up groceries. It was at that point she started screaming, "I want to try me! I want to try me!" I thought I was may misunderstanding her, so I tried to ask her if she meant something else, but she only answered in the affirmative when I asked if she wanted to "Try you." I'm still not certain what she was trying to say, but she eventually ran into the kitchen and picked up the onion we had purchased. I tried to convince her that she did not want to try raw onion, but she wasn't having it. She wanted to try it, and she didn't want green beans, and she didn't want tomato (it was actually potato). I finally pulled out some of the cut onion we had in the fridge and asked her if she wanted to try that. She grabbed a handful of onion and shoved it in her mouth, while I prepared myself for a fresh round of tears.
Can I just say now, that my child is weird!? She LOVED the onion! After she had tasted her handful, she got this huge smile on her face and took a few more handfuls. I asked if she liked it, and she said, "Yeah!" Now, maybe she was just trying to prove a point, and if that's the case I'm terrified for when she's 13, but things were fine the rest of the evening. She ate her beans and potato (although no chicken), and she danced to Simon and Garfunkel, and she went to bed fairly easily.
I'm not quite sure what happened last night, but I do know I sat through 1.5 hours of screaming and I went to bed utterly exhausted. Please don't let this be what the rest of year 3 will be like!
Monday, May 22, 2017
The Time I Left My Daughter In the Car
It's the end of May here in good, ole VA and the temperatures are rising. While today may be a mild, rainy day, Saturday was sunny and HOT. Already we're starting to hear reports of children being left in the car, sometimes with catastrophic consequences. Sometimes it's a frazzled, over-worked mother who made a terrible mistake, whereas other times it's shear ineptitude, but regardless of the cause, we always see those comments from people claiming it could never happen to them, and these mothers / fathers couldn't possibly love their children if this is what they'll do.
I understand this outcry. It's hard to imagine someone could ever leave a child in the car, and I felt the exact same way for a long time. I mean, I went years with dogs in the car and I never once came close to leaving one in a hot car (even when they were sleeping soundly). Surely people who leave their children in the car must be heartless. Heck, I even argued that if you had to leave a shoe / purse in the back seat to ensure you wouldn't forget your child then there must be something wrong with you. That is, of course, until it happened to me.
A little over three years ago, I was a new mom. I had a very new infant and I was running my growing business (trying to put in as much time as possible), when BAM! All of a sudden I was hit with a completely unexpected life-changing event when my Mom, the woman who was supposed to help me care for Anna and serve a pseudo-nanny, was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. All of a sudden I was left caring for my infant and my business while simultaneously helping my mom recover from surgery, moving her from her apartment to our house (and a few things to storage), caring for her 2 dogs in addition to my own 2 dogs, dealing with her bills/finances, and also shuttling her from doctor appointment to doctor appointment while I fit my own doctor appointments in there as well. And that doesn't even begin to factor in dietary changes we were trying to make to help cope with the cancer diagnosis! It should go on note that all this hassle is what made me decide I only want one child. I don't need anymore craziness in my life, and I'm happy to shower all my attention on Anna (and the pups, cats, and kennel).
Anyway, I was beyond stressed when my mom's car came due for its annual inspection and needed a few repairs. Dad said one of his friends could take care of it, so I gave him the keys to mom's car and he dropped it off. I have no idea how he got a ride from the shop, only that the car was there for a few days. After a short while, Dad showed up at the kennel one day and said, "OK, let's go pick up your mom's car." I wrapped up what I was working on, placed Anna in her car seat, and let Dad give me directions as to where I was going.
When we arrived, I got out of the car and followed Dad into the main office. The mechanic wasn't in there, so I followed Dad into the garage. Dad was closing the door behind us when he looked at me and asked, "Where's Anna?" Less than 5 minutes had passed and I completely panicked. I string of expletives flew out of my mouth as I ran back to my van only to find her resting peacefully. The temperature in the car, however, was climbing quickly, and I couldn't believe my stupid mistake.
I didn't tell anyone about this for a long time simply because I was so embarrassed. Dad, to his credit, also chose not to spread the story around. I can't begin to tell you how much I felt like a horrible mother. Here was this helpless, defenseless creature, who relied on me for everything, and I couldn't believe I could be that careless. I wanted to cry. I held Anna close to me, I let her nurse when she needed to, I wiped her brow, and I thanked God nothing worse had happened, but I also gained a lot of understanding that day.
Now, I doubt I would have forgotten her for hours on end, but who am I to say I wouldn't have left her in the car for 20 minutes while I dealt with the mechanic? Even saying that makes me feel terrible, but it's the truth. For a brief moment I was so worn out that I left my darling girl in the car.
Have I forgotten her since? Not even close. More often than not I find I'm checking her car seat even on days she's not with me just to make sure. That one time was enough to scare the living bejeezus out of me, and I doubt I'll ever make that mistake again. Still, though, I see how it could happen. I hate to admit that I'm one of those people, but I am. Simply put, I'm human.
Now, I might get some negative response to this, and that's OK. I understand where you're coming from. I just hope you can show some compassion and understand not everyone is as perfect as you. I certainly am not. I give everything I have in me, but sometimes I'm just out of things to give. That's where I'm so thankful for my support system. I'm thankful for Hans and my dad and my friends. They're the ones who keep my errors from turning into horrible, horrible mistakes.
I understand this outcry. It's hard to imagine someone could ever leave a child in the car, and I felt the exact same way for a long time. I mean, I went years with dogs in the car and I never once came close to leaving one in a hot car (even when they were sleeping soundly). Surely people who leave their children in the car must be heartless. Heck, I even argued that if you had to leave a shoe / purse in the back seat to ensure you wouldn't forget your child then there must be something wrong with you. That is, of course, until it happened to me.
A little over three years ago, I was a new mom. I had a very new infant and I was running my growing business (trying to put in as much time as possible), when BAM! All of a sudden I was hit with a completely unexpected life-changing event when my Mom, the woman who was supposed to help me care for Anna and serve a pseudo-nanny, was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. All of a sudden I was left caring for my infant and my business while simultaneously helping my mom recover from surgery, moving her from her apartment to our house (and a few things to storage), caring for her 2 dogs in addition to my own 2 dogs, dealing with her bills/finances, and also shuttling her from doctor appointment to doctor appointment while I fit my own doctor appointments in there as well. And that doesn't even begin to factor in dietary changes we were trying to make to help cope with the cancer diagnosis! It should go on note that all this hassle is what made me decide I only want one child. I don't need anymore craziness in my life, and I'm happy to shower all my attention on Anna (and the pups, cats, and kennel).
Anyway, I was beyond stressed when my mom's car came due for its annual inspection and needed a few repairs. Dad said one of his friends could take care of it, so I gave him the keys to mom's car and he dropped it off. I have no idea how he got a ride from the shop, only that the car was there for a few days. After a short while, Dad showed up at the kennel one day and said, "OK, let's go pick up your mom's car." I wrapped up what I was working on, placed Anna in her car seat, and let Dad give me directions as to where I was going.
When we arrived, I got out of the car and followed Dad into the main office. The mechanic wasn't in there, so I followed Dad into the garage. Dad was closing the door behind us when he looked at me and asked, "Where's Anna?" Less than 5 minutes had passed and I completely panicked. I string of expletives flew out of my mouth as I ran back to my van only to find her resting peacefully. The temperature in the car, however, was climbing quickly, and I couldn't believe my stupid mistake.
I didn't tell anyone about this for a long time simply because I was so embarrassed. Dad, to his credit, also chose not to spread the story around. I can't begin to tell you how much I felt like a horrible mother. Here was this helpless, defenseless creature, who relied on me for everything, and I couldn't believe I could be that careless. I wanted to cry. I held Anna close to me, I let her nurse when she needed to, I wiped her brow, and I thanked God nothing worse had happened, but I also gained a lot of understanding that day.
Now, I doubt I would have forgotten her for hours on end, but who am I to say I wouldn't have left her in the car for 20 minutes while I dealt with the mechanic? Even saying that makes me feel terrible, but it's the truth. For a brief moment I was so worn out that I left my darling girl in the car.
Have I forgotten her since? Not even close. More often than not I find I'm checking her car seat even on days she's not with me just to make sure. That one time was enough to scare the living bejeezus out of me, and I doubt I'll ever make that mistake again. Still, though, I see how it could happen. I hate to admit that I'm one of those people, but I am. Simply put, I'm human.
Now, I might get some negative response to this, and that's OK. I understand where you're coming from. I just hope you can show some compassion and understand not everyone is as perfect as you. I certainly am not. I give everything I have in me, but sometimes I'm just out of things to give. That's where I'm so thankful for my support system. I'm thankful for Hans and my dad and my friends. They're the ones who keep my errors from turning into horrible, horrible mistakes.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Fail
Well, more blogs posts last week didn't happen. Oops! I honestly was just really busy, but I have a little bit of free time now, so I thought I'd try it out again.
Can I just say I've had a fairly awesome week? It started with Mother's Day. OK, so honestly, Mother's Day had a questionable start and I wasn't certain how it would go. Let's start with Saturday evening.
We'd had a lovely day. We went to a birthday party, bought some new plants, and had dinner out. Everyone was happy. Then, as I was finishing repotting the new plants we bought, I heard Hans say, "Anna, oh no!" He had left her alone for a few minutes...left her alone with a vase of flowers and her Mother's Day artwork from school. She decided she wanted a flower, and in reaching for one she knocked the over the vase and spilled water all over her art. To say it was ruined is an understatement. Do you know what happens with water-soluble food when water hits it? It was completely erased. It honestly looked like someone had erased dry-erase marker from a white board. I was so upset. I was mad at Hans for leaving something so precious next to a vase of water, and I was mad at him for leaving those two things alone with Anna. I also scolded Anna for trying to take something that didn't belong to her, but she was already crying after seeing the destruction done to her art, so I tried to take it easy. Let's just say we all went to bed feeling kind of down.
To ease my anger / sadness over the ruined art (and yes, I was already laughing about it through the anger) I went out early Sunday morning for an 8 mile run. A run which went quite well, by the way, so when I came home I was already in a much improved mood. My mood got even better after I got home. Hans had made breakfast quiche and Johnnie bread and a great cup of coffee. After breakfast, Anna presented me with a new gift...homemade bookmarks made from pictures of Anna. I definitely was happier. Hans then told me he'd made lunch reservations for a restaurant I'd really been wanting to try, and he figured we could have a picnic dinner in the park and listen to a concert series. I'd say it was a great day.
Monday and Tuesday were fairly uneventful, but Wednesday was fabulous. I was worried about Wednesday because Anna had a follow up to her first ever dentist appointment. Essentially, her first appointment stressed her out too much, and they couldn't finish the cleaning, so we had to go back. I really wasn't looking forward to a screaming toddler, so I talked to her about what we were going to do (we talked about it a lot), and I promised her pizza if she was well-behaved. Guys, she was so good!! The dentist was fairly awesome too, so that was helpful, but not a single tear was shed. Anna was definitely nervous, but she followed instructions and she did so well. Her pizza was well-deserved, and we had a wonderful mother-daughter lunch together. Then we went home for her nap time, and I was able to clean a little and fold laundry. I love feeling accomplished! After nap time, we spent an hour playing and doing puzzles, and I loved just having some free time with my daughter; no obligations, no where to be, just time together.
Hans and I had fun things planned for the evening, though, so Auntie Jess came over to babysit. Normally if we have a babysitter it's for a date night, just the two of us, or for something specific like a show at the theatre or work. This was date night of sorts, but it was really time for us to be social and act like child-free adults for a few hours.
We left the house and met up with Hans' coworkers for some tailgating and a soccer game. There was food, there was beer, there were friends, and the weather was beautiful. It was absolutely perfect. The soccer game was a blast, although we ended up losing (boo!). It was a fairly close match, and I had fun anyway. Afterwards we walked down to the yogurt shop and enjoyed some tasty soft serve. By the end of the night I was relaxed (a rarity) and genuinely happy. It was such a good day! I didn't get enough sleep that night, and I was exhausted yesterday, but it was definitely worth it.
Now it's Friday, and we have A LOT planned this weekend. I'm already tired just thinking about it, but at least I'm headed into it in a good mood.
I hope you're all doing well! Talk to you soon!
Can I just say I've had a fairly awesome week? It started with Mother's Day. OK, so honestly, Mother's Day had a questionable start and I wasn't certain how it would go. Let's start with Saturday evening.
We'd had a lovely day. We went to a birthday party, bought some new plants, and had dinner out. Everyone was happy. Then, as I was finishing repotting the new plants we bought, I heard Hans say, "Anna, oh no!" He had left her alone for a few minutes...left her alone with a vase of flowers and her Mother's Day artwork from school. She decided she wanted a flower, and in reaching for one she knocked the over the vase and spilled water all over her art. To say it was ruined is an understatement. Do you know what happens with water-soluble food when water hits it? It was completely erased. It honestly looked like someone had erased dry-erase marker from a white board. I was so upset. I was mad at Hans for leaving something so precious next to a vase of water, and I was mad at him for leaving those two things alone with Anna. I also scolded Anna for trying to take something that didn't belong to her, but she was already crying after seeing the destruction done to her art, so I tried to take it easy. Let's just say we all went to bed feeling kind of down.
To ease my anger / sadness over the ruined art (and yes, I was already laughing about it through the anger) I went out early Sunday morning for an 8 mile run. A run which went quite well, by the way, so when I came home I was already in a much improved mood. My mood got even better after I got home. Hans had made breakfast quiche and Johnnie bread and a great cup of coffee. After breakfast, Anna presented me with a new gift...homemade bookmarks made from pictures of Anna. I definitely was happier. Hans then told me he'd made lunch reservations for a restaurant I'd really been wanting to try, and he figured we could have a picnic dinner in the park and listen to a concert series. I'd say it was a great day.
Monday and Tuesday were fairly uneventful, but Wednesday was fabulous. I was worried about Wednesday because Anna had a follow up to her first ever dentist appointment. Essentially, her first appointment stressed her out too much, and they couldn't finish the cleaning, so we had to go back. I really wasn't looking forward to a screaming toddler, so I talked to her about what we were going to do (we talked about it a lot), and I promised her pizza if she was well-behaved. Guys, she was so good!! The dentist was fairly awesome too, so that was helpful, but not a single tear was shed. Anna was definitely nervous, but she followed instructions and she did so well. Her pizza was well-deserved, and we had a wonderful mother-daughter lunch together. Then we went home for her nap time, and I was able to clean a little and fold laundry. I love feeling accomplished! After nap time, we spent an hour playing and doing puzzles, and I loved just having some free time with my daughter; no obligations, no where to be, just time together.
Hans and I had fun things planned for the evening, though, so Auntie Jess came over to babysit. Normally if we have a babysitter it's for a date night, just the two of us, or for something specific like a show at the theatre or work. This was date night of sorts, but it was really time for us to be social and act like child-free adults for a few hours.
We left the house and met up with Hans' coworkers for some tailgating and a soccer game. There was food, there was beer, there were friends, and the weather was beautiful. It was absolutely perfect. The soccer game was a blast, although we ended up losing (boo!). It was a fairly close match, and I had fun anyway. Afterwards we walked down to the yogurt shop and enjoyed some tasty soft serve. By the end of the night I was relaxed (a rarity) and genuinely happy. It was such a good day! I didn't get enough sleep that night, and I was exhausted yesterday, but it was definitely worth it.
Now it's Friday, and we have A LOT planned this weekend. I'm already tired just thinking about it, but at least I'm headed into it in a good mood.
I hope you're all doing well! Talk to you soon!
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
I Swear I'm Not Dead
Hey Guys!
As the title of this post states, I'm not dead! Not only that, but I'm seriously going to try to make a come back when it comes to writing this blog. This is my own little corner of the interwebs, and I miss it.
Honestly, I've gotten to a point where I think of multiple things to write about every week, but when I want to post something I'm coming up blank.
After nearly a year off I'm out of practice, and I'm really not sure how well this will go. All I know is that I'm trying again.
It seems like so much has changed over the past year, and yet so much is still the same.
Anna is almost 3. She's sassy and smart. She loves reading, and she loves her hanging on to Mama (hello my aching back). We're dealing with the Terrible Threes now, and it's not always easy. That said, minus the times when I'm too tired to function properly, it's sometimes fun to have the mental challenge. I honestly think that dog training has really helped me when it comes to dealing with her.
The kennel is doing great. We're in the middle of a small expansion, and I couldn't be more stoked. I'm also terrified, but that's to be expected.
Life is progressing...at an alarming rate.
I promise I am going to try to keep this thing going. Maybe I'll write another post tomorrow. And maybe another after that. As a reminder to myself, I need to tell you about our train chasing excursion and our trip to the soccer game and our trip to the baseball game. All of these things are made slightly more exciting with a toddler.
See y'all soon!
As the title of this post states, I'm not dead! Not only that, but I'm seriously going to try to make a come back when it comes to writing this blog. This is my own little corner of the interwebs, and I miss it.
Honestly, I've gotten to a point where I think of multiple things to write about every week, but when I want to post something I'm coming up blank.
After nearly a year off I'm out of practice, and I'm really not sure how well this will go. All I know is that I'm trying again.
It seems like so much has changed over the past year, and yet so much is still the same.
Anna is almost 3. She's sassy and smart. She loves reading, and she loves her hanging on to Mama (hello my aching back). We're dealing with the Terrible Threes now, and it's not always easy. That said, minus the times when I'm too tired to function properly, it's sometimes fun to have the mental challenge. I honestly think that dog training has really helped me when it comes to dealing with her.
The kennel is doing great. We're in the middle of a small expansion, and I couldn't be more stoked. I'm also terrified, but that's to be expected.
Life is progressing...at an alarming rate.
I promise I am going to try to keep this thing going. Maybe I'll write another post tomorrow. And maybe another after that. As a reminder to myself, I need to tell you about our train chasing excursion and our trip to the soccer game and our trip to the baseball game. All of these things are made slightly more exciting with a toddler.
See y'all soon!
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Dear Mom
Dear Mom,
I miss you literally every, single day. Just when I think things are getting a little better, I'm hit with a sound or a smell, and all the emotions come right back.
Anna's about to celebrate her 2nd birthday. You wouldn't believe how big she's gotten. And your curse worked. She's just like me (perfect in every way). A year ago, we were still hoping to get you home for her birthday. A year ago, we were still fighting the good fight.
When I look back, I can see all the signs. I can see that this was always going to be the outcome, but I still can't believe it. I can't believe you're not here. I can't believe I can't just grab a coffee with you. I can't believe you're not able to hold Anna or tell her how much you love her. I know you loved spending time with her. I can't believe Anna won't remember you. She loved you so much. You always made her laugh.
You were always the fun one. You were goofy, quirky, spontaneous...different. I always joked and called you my four year old, for you always had a very simple view on life. Sometimes this was frustrating, as I didn't always want to be the adult,but you were fun. You made me laugh.
I can't begin to tell you how angry I sometimes get. Angry at what, I'm not sure. The situation, maybe? You, who never complained about an ache or a pain. You who helped me carry boxes to a third floor walk up. You who trained for a 5k and a 10k just because you wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You weren't supposed to go so soon.
And then there's the guilt. When I was little, you always told me that if you ever lost me you'd shrivel up and blow away with the leaves in winter. That last year was so hard for us. There'd been so much hurt and so much misunderstanding and so much refusal to understand. Did you think you'd lost me? Did you just shrivel up? If I had held you more, told you I loved you more, just sat and talked with you more, lost my temper less, would things be different? Logic tell me there's nothing I could have done, but I still wish I'd done those things.
You know, and no one tells you about the anxiety that comes with all this. If someone as seemingly healthy as you can be taken so fast, how easy can others be gone? I find myself running farther and harder just to keep the anxiety attacks at bay. And the attacks are worse than they were. I find myself pacing, struggling to breathe properly, until I wear myself out and just want to curl in a ball under the covers. Some have mentioned meds, but you know me. That's just not my style.
In less than a month it will have been one year. At this point last year you were already in nursing care. Our visits at this point usually consisted either of me walking with you / wheeling you around the facility or, more often, sitting and reading while you slept. If it were a Tuesday (like today) I would have stopped in after my early morning run. I would have quietly entered the facility via the side door, said hi to the nurses, and gone to sit in your room. You wouldn't be awake yet, so I'd just read until you woke up at which point you'd try to eat breakfast (although I can't really call what they gave you food) and we'd watch some t.v. Then I'd tell you I loved you and leave to take care of Anna. If I was lucky, I'd get to see you again that day. If not, I'd see you tomorrow.
The last few weeks with you were the worst. Being in the nursing home felt like being in jail. I wanted to be home with my daughter, to snuggle her and take care of her, but I couldn't leave you. I couldn't miss the opportunity to have one last good moment with you. I knew what the final outcome would be, and yet there was always that bitch, Hope. I kept hoping, praying for a miracle. I'd tell myself that Daniel survived the lion's din, and David battled Goliath. And when, at last, there was no more hope, at first I felt relief. But now there's just disbelief. Now there are the times that I forget that I can't just pick up the phone and call you. There's the time when Anna was playing with my phone and almost called your old number. I should erase you from my contacts, but I can't bring myself to do it.
I know this letter is rambling, but I thought you should know. I miss you. I love you. I wish you were here.
Your Daughter Always
I miss you literally every, single day. Just when I think things are getting a little better, I'm hit with a sound or a smell, and all the emotions come right back.
Anna's about to celebrate her 2nd birthday. You wouldn't believe how big she's gotten. And your curse worked. She's just like me (perfect in every way). A year ago, we were still hoping to get you home for her birthday. A year ago, we were still fighting the good fight.
When I look back, I can see all the signs. I can see that this was always going to be the outcome, but I still can't believe it. I can't believe you're not here. I can't believe I can't just grab a coffee with you. I can't believe you're not able to hold Anna or tell her how much you love her. I know you loved spending time with her. I can't believe Anna won't remember you. She loved you so much. You always made her laugh.
You were always the fun one. You were goofy, quirky, spontaneous...different. I always joked and called you my four year old, for you always had a very simple view on life. Sometimes this was frustrating, as I didn't always want to be the adult,but you were fun. You made me laugh.
I can't begin to tell you how angry I sometimes get. Angry at what, I'm not sure. The situation, maybe? You, who never complained about an ache or a pain. You who helped me carry boxes to a third floor walk up. You who trained for a 5k and a 10k just because you wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You weren't supposed to go so soon.
And then there's the guilt. When I was little, you always told me that if you ever lost me you'd shrivel up and blow away with the leaves in winter. That last year was so hard for us. There'd been so much hurt and so much misunderstanding and so much refusal to understand. Did you think you'd lost me? Did you just shrivel up? If I had held you more, told you I loved you more, just sat and talked with you more, lost my temper less, would things be different? Logic tell me there's nothing I could have done, but I still wish I'd done those things.
You know, and no one tells you about the anxiety that comes with all this. If someone as seemingly healthy as you can be taken so fast, how easy can others be gone? I find myself running farther and harder just to keep the anxiety attacks at bay. And the attacks are worse than they were. I find myself pacing, struggling to breathe properly, until I wear myself out and just want to curl in a ball under the covers. Some have mentioned meds, but you know me. That's just not my style.
In less than a month it will have been one year. At this point last year you were already in nursing care. Our visits at this point usually consisted either of me walking with you / wheeling you around the facility or, more often, sitting and reading while you slept. If it were a Tuesday (like today) I would have stopped in after my early morning run. I would have quietly entered the facility via the side door, said hi to the nurses, and gone to sit in your room. You wouldn't be awake yet, so I'd just read until you woke up at which point you'd try to eat breakfast (although I can't really call what they gave you food) and we'd watch some t.v. Then I'd tell you I loved you and leave to take care of Anna. If I was lucky, I'd get to see you again that day. If not, I'd see you tomorrow.
The last few weeks with you were the worst. Being in the nursing home felt like being in jail. I wanted to be home with my daughter, to snuggle her and take care of her, but I couldn't leave you. I couldn't miss the opportunity to have one last good moment with you. I knew what the final outcome would be, and yet there was always that bitch, Hope. I kept hoping, praying for a miracle. I'd tell myself that Daniel survived the lion's din, and David battled Goliath. And when, at last, there was no more hope, at first I felt relief. But now there's just disbelief. Now there are the times that I forget that I can't just pick up the phone and call you. There's the time when Anna was playing with my phone and almost called your old number. I should erase you from my contacts, but I can't bring myself to do it.
I know this letter is rambling, but I thought you should know. I miss you. I love you. I wish you were here.
Your Daughter Always
Friday, February 12, 2016
Who Am I?
Who Am I? I'm Jean Valjean!
OK, pardon my Les Miserables reference. I couldn't help myself.
Anyway, as I posted previously, I started grooming school. Honestly, I'm enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I wasn't really excited about starting. It was something I needed to do for work, but it involves driving 4 hours every day and grooming was never really something I had a lot of interest in. Still, I knew I had to do it. What I'm finding is that I'm learning a lot about myself.
I'm the boss.
At first, what I thought I liked most about school was that I didn't have to be the boss. People weren't looking to me for advice, and I didn't have to be responsible for anything. What I quickly realized, though, is that I was constantly jumping in to give advice. I've worked with dogs longer than anyone else in the class, so I'm always giving tips on how to handle a dog or how to trim nails. I even pseudo-reprimanded someone for leaving a towel in with a dog until I realized it wasn't my job to reprimand (and I quickly changed to just "giving advice"). So, apparently a large part of me enjoys being the boss. And when I make a mistake, I'm happy to own up to it. So, here's my new saying: Some say I'm bossy, but really I'm the boss.
I know a lot about dogs.
I mean A LOT about dogs. Sure, this may seem like common sense. I've been a trainer for 6 years, I own a kennel, and I enjoy research. Still, there are plenty of times when I feel insecure. I often feel like the information I know is common knowledge. At school, most of the students haven't had any dog experience (other than their own pets), so I'm able to find out what's truly common knowledge. Do you know what I found out? I know a lot! A lot of stuff that isn't common knowledge. A lot of the things that are being taught, I've taught to numerous other people. I can practically finish the instructor's sentences because they're sentences I've said before. It's a huge ego-boost.
I kind of like grooming.
While I still prefer training, grooming isn't terrible, and it's actually kind of fun. I often look forward to school (although not the drive), and I enjoy the process. Sometimes it's nice to just be able to focus on your own work and not have be extroverted. Grooming is great for my introvert side.
So, there ya have it. That has been my life for the past month. The biggest downside to everything is my lack of time to myself or with my family. It won't last forever, though, and at least I'm enjoying it.
OK, pardon my Les Miserables reference. I couldn't help myself.
Anyway, as I posted previously, I started grooming school. Honestly, I'm enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I wasn't really excited about starting. It was something I needed to do for work, but it involves driving 4 hours every day and grooming was never really something I had a lot of interest in. Still, I knew I had to do it. What I'm finding is that I'm learning a lot about myself.
I'm the boss.
At first, what I thought I liked most about school was that I didn't have to be the boss. People weren't looking to me for advice, and I didn't have to be responsible for anything. What I quickly realized, though, is that I was constantly jumping in to give advice. I've worked with dogs longer than anyone else in the class, so I'm always giving tips on how to handle a dog or how to trim nails. I even pseudo-reprimanded someone for leaving a towel in with a dog until I realized it wasn't my job to reprimand (and I quickly changed to just "giving advice"). So, apparently a large part of me enjoys being the boss. And when I make a mistake, I'm happy to own up to it. So, here's my new saying: Some say I'm bossy, but really I'm the boss.
I know a lot about dogs.
I mean A LOT about dogs. Sure, this may seem like common sense. I've been a trainer for 6 years, I own a kennel, and I enjoy research. Still, there are plenty of times when I feel insecure. I often feel like the information I know is common knowledge. At school, most of the students haven't had any dog experience (other than their own pets), so I'm able to find out what's truly common knowledge. Do you know what I found out? I know a lot! A lot of stuff that isn't common knowledge. A lot of the things that are being taught, I've taught to numerous other people. I can practically finish the instructor's sentences because they're sentences I've said before. It's a huge ego-boost.
I kind of like grooming.
While I still prefer training, grooming isn't terrible, and it's actually kind of fun. I often look forward to school (although not the drive), and I enjoy the process. Sometimes it's nice to just be able to focus on your own work and not have be extroverted. Grooming is great for my introvert side.
So, there ya have it. That has been my life for the past month. The biggest downside to everything is my lack of time to myself or with my family. It won't last forever, though, and at least I'm enjoying it.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Catching Up
I feel as though I'm constantly apologizing for not writing enough. I'm sorry, and thank you for understanding that life sometimes gets in the way. Since it's been so long since I posted anything, let me try to catch you up on a little.
The Holidays
The holidays went well. I'd be lying if I said they were easy. This, of course, was the first year without Mom, and it made things difficult. At first, I didn't think I was that bothered by it. I mean, people would mention how difficult it would be having that empty spot at the table, or how it was now my job to carry on the traditions, and I'd just shrug and think, "Whatever." You see, I haven't had a "traditional" Christmas since my parents separated 20 years ago. It was always Christmas Eve with Dad and Christmas Day with Mom. Sometimes Mom had to work (which sucked), sometimes we just relaxed. One year we went to the movies, one year we had take out Chinese. One memorable year, we flew to Utah to see one of my friends. So, there was never a pattern to follow. What made this year so hard, though, was that I realized I'd never taken the time to really appreciate the time I had with her. Last Christmas, when we knew about the cancer, but while it was still in remission, we focused on Anna. I have pictures of Anna at Mass, videos of Anna opening presents, and lots of memories of Anna, and while I know Mom was there for all of it, I can't remember anything specific. Actually, I take that back. I know I ordered a very special, hard to find present for Mom, and it had broken in shipping. I was never able to find a replacement, and Mom was so disappointed. I hated that.
All in all, though, the holidays went well. We enjoyed a lovely day with my Dad and Cindy. Hans and I spent a lot of time cooking, Anna was cooperative, and we all enjoyed our gifts. Oh, and Anna made out like a bandit! So, it was good.
The Kennel
The kennel has be both awesome and sometimes frustrating. Let me just say that being a business owner can be fun, exhausting, empowering, and isolating. Still, though, I don't think I'd trade it for anything in the world. I have a wonderful staff, and while they don't always do things exactly the same way I would, they try their hardest and they really care about things. That's all I can ask for.
One thing that's particularly new is that I've started grooming school. This is more out of needing to learn about that aspect of my business than it is about a desire to groom, but so far it's fun. It's a 4 month long program and it's 2 hours away, so I'm able to enjoy a "lovely" commute every day. Thank GOD for audio books! Honestly, the hardest part is balancing home, work, and school life. I really wish I had a self-driving car so I could get a little more sleep or respond to emails during those 2 hours.
Anna and the Dogs
All my kids are doing well. Anna is struggling with me not being home as much, so when I am home I'm dedicating all my time to her. The dogs need A LOT more exercise, so Hans and I are trying to incorporate them into our daily work out routines a little more. It's not necessarily easy, but we're trying to make it work.
Let me also take a moment to really praise Hans. He's really been helping out a lot lately. This past week he's made all the dinners (although we did eat out a few times), he packed a lunch for me every day, he cleaned up so I could have time with Anna, and he's barely complained. Of course, all that is on top of his 40 hours a week job. He's been great.
So, that's my life in a nutshell. I hope to be able to post more soon. I love my little corner of the internet, and I so appreciate all of you who find me interesting.
Thank you!
The Holidays
The holidays went well. I'd be lying if I said they were easy. This, of course, was the first year without Mom, and it made things difficult. At first, I didn't think I was that bothered by it. I mean, people would mention how difficult it would be having that empty spot at the table, or how it was now my job to carry on the traditions, and I'd just shrug and think, "Whatever." You see, I haven't had a "traditional" Christmas since my parents separated 20 years ago. It was always Christmas Eve with Dad and Christmas Day with Mom. Sometimes Mom had to work (which sucked), sometimes we just relaxed. One year we went to the movies, one year we had take out Chinese. One memorable year, we flew to Utah to see one of my friends. So, there was never a pattern to follow. What made this year so hard, though, was that I realized I'd never taken the time to really appreciate the time I had with her. Last Christmas, when we knew about the cancer, but while it was still in remission, we focused on Anna. I have pictures of Anna at Mass, videos of Anna opening presents, and lots of memories of Anna, and while I know Mom was there for all of it, I can't remember anything specific. Actually, I take that back. I know I ordered a very special, hard to find present for Mom, and it had broken in shipping. I was never able to find a replacement, and Mom was so disappointed. I hated that.
All in all, though, the holidays went well. We enjoyed a lovely day with my Dad and Cindy. Hans and I spent a lot of time cooking, Anna was cooperative, and we all enjoyed our gifts. Oh, and Anna made out like a bandit! So, it was good.
The Kennel
The kennel has be both awesome and sometimes frustrating. Let me just say that being a business owner can be fun, exhausting, empowering, and isolating. Still, though, I don't think I'd trade it for anything in the world. I have a wonderful staff, and while they don't always do things exactly the same way I would, they try their hardest and they really care about things. That's all I can ask for.
One thing that's particularly new is that I've started grooming school. This is more out of needing to learn about that aspect of my business than it is about a desire to groom, but so far it's fun. It's a 4 month long program and it's 2 hours away, so I'm able to enjoy a "lovely" commute every day. Thank GOD for audio books! Honestly, the hardest part is balancing home, work, and school life. I really wish I had a self-driving car so I could get a little more sleep or respond to emails during those 2 hours.
Anna and the Dogs
All my kids are doing well. Anna is struggling with me not being home as much, so when I am home I'm dedicating all my time to her. The dogs need A LOT more exercise, so Hans and I are trying to incorporate them into our daily work out routines a little more. It's not necessarily easy, but we're trying to make it work.
Let me also take a moment to really praise Hans. He's really been helping out a lot lately. This past week he's made all the dinners (although we did eat out a few times), he packed a lunch for me every day, he cleaned up so I could have time with Anna, and he's barely complained. Of course, all that is on top of his 40 hours a week job. He's been great.
So, that's my life in a nutshell. I hope to be able to post more soon. I love my little corner of the internet, and I so appreciate all of you who find me interesting.
Thank you!
Monday, November 23, 2015
Post Marathon Blues
Finally, I'm starting to feel slightly back to normal. The keyword there is slightly. Let me just say that post-marathon blues are real, and they're terrible. This year I completely expected them. I've had them after every other marathon, and I figured they'd be there. I also figured that, since I was expecting them, they might not be so bad. Woo-boy was I wrong!
As you all know, two of my dearest friends came to visit right before the marathon. This did a few things. First, it boosted my mood and made me feel so very loved. Second, it forced me to take a bit of time off and rest pre-race. Lastly, it made post-marathon so bitter-sweet, because it meant I had to bid them farewell. I very much wish that my friends lived closer to me. The past week I've been moping around, trying to plan trips to see them. I've been asking myself if I could fly up in a few weeks (no, I can't), or if we could all plan a mini-vacation together (difficult at best). I miss my friends!!! So, that's left me in a funk.
Also, my friends weren't the only ones who left the day after the marathon. A week before the marathon, Hans' grandmother passed away, so the three of us all flew down for the funeral. Since the funeral and burial were in different states (long story), this meant quite a bit of flying in a very short period of time. By the end, I was wiped! It took a little while for the shear physical exhaustion to set in, but when it did I could hardly move. Picking Anna up or playing with her was more effort than I could stand, and for the latter half of the week I just wanted to crawl in a hole and sleep. Of course, my body was completely out of whack, and sleep was somewhat evasive. To put things plainly, this physical exhaustion did nothing to boost my mood. I was too tired to be happy (I was grumpy), and I ended up just being sad because I was too tired to do things that usually make me happy (play with Anna, hike, etc). It wasn't so great.
And lastly, there's the endorphin crash. Runner's high is real, and after 26.2 miles there's a lovely intoxication. The world is rosy and everything is wonderful. And then your body realizes you're not running quite as much and suddenly you crash. And this crash was so, so bad. The worst part was that I could think rationally and tell myself exactly what this was, but that did nothing to make me feel better. I just wanted to be left alone and mope.
Luckily, I have great support. Hans has been wonderful. He's pushed me to do the things I absolutely need to do, but he's also made sure I've gotten plenty of rest. He played with Anna when I couldn't, and he took care of the housework when I simply didn't want to. He's made sure I've gotten the nutrition I need, and he's taken time to simply hold me and tell me he's here. Boy am I fortunate!
So, now I'm returning to normal. I'm hoping I get through this hectic and crazy week, and I'm looking forward to the next big thing!
As you all know, two of my dearest friends came to visit right before the marathon. This did a few things. First, it boosted my mood and made me feel so very loved. Second, it forced me to take a bit of time off and rest pre-race. Lastly, it made post-marathon so bitter-sweet, because it meant I had to bid them farewell. I very much wish that my friends lived closer to me. The past week I've been moping around, trying to plan trips to see them. I've been asking myself if I could fly up in a few weeks (no, I can't), or if we could all plan a mini-vacation together (difficult at best). I miss my friends!!! So, that's left me in a funk.
Also, my friends weren't the only ones who left the day after the marathon. A week before the marathon, Hans' grandmother passed away, so the three of us all flew down for the funeral. Since the funeral and burial were in different states (long story), this meant quite a bit of flying in a very short period of time. By the end, I was wiped! It took a little while for the shear physical exhaustion to set in, but when it did I could hardly move. Picking Anna up or playing with her was more effort than I could stand, and for the latter half of the week I just wanted to crawl in a hole and sleep. Of course, my body was completely out of whack, and sleep was somewhat evasive. To put things plainly, this physical exhaustion did nothing to boost my mood. I was too tired to be happy (I was grumpy), and I ended up just being sad because I was too tired to do things that usually make me happy (play with Anna, hike, etc). It wasn't so great.
And lastly, there's the endorphin crash. Runner's high is real, and after 26.2 miles there's a lovely intoxication. The world is rosy and everything is wonderful. And then your body realizes you're not running quite as much and suddenly you crash. And this crash was so, so bad. The worst part was that I could think rationally and tell myself exactly what this was, but that did nothing to make me feel better. I just wanted to be left alone and mope.
Luckily, I have great support. Hans has been wonderful. He's pushed me to do the things I absolutely need to do, but he's also made sure I've gotten plenty of rest. He played with Anna when I couldn't, and he took care of the housework when I simply didn't want to. He's made sure I've gotten the nutrition I need, and he's taken time to simply hold me and tell me he's here. Boy am I fortunate!
So, now I'm returning to normal. I'm hoping I get through this hectic and crazy week, and I'm looking forward to the next big thing!
Friday, November 20, 2015
An Immigrant's Daughter
It's a fact I often forget. I was born and raised in the U.S., and my dad has lived in the US for the majority of his life, but the reality is that my father is an immigrant. He could never be president, he taught his mother english, and as much as we sometimes forget, this is not his native land.
My dad was born in 1950 in post-war Germany. My Baba (grandmother) had been taken from her home in Ukraine during WWII to work as slave labor. I know very little details about her time there, because she refused to talk about it. The only things I do know are that the farm she was put on was owned by a family that was relatively kind to her, and she had an acid burn across her chest. How it got there, one can only guess.
In 1946 my aunt was born. I don't know the story of her birth or how my grandparents met, but from what I understand she was born out of wedlock. Four years later, now married, my grandparents were attempting to immigrate to America. My Baba had a cousin who lived in Philly, and that was helping to speed up the process, because this cousin was able to vouch for this little family. As it's been told to me, just before everything was finalized, my dad was born, and now they had to wait even longer so they could obtain the proper documents for him.
At 6 months old, my dad was finally granted access to the US along with my Baba, my Papa Joe, and my Aunt Irena. Baba wasn't extremely educated. While she was an extraordinary gardener, she only had the equivalent of a 4th grade education, and while she could speak about 10 slavic languages and some German, she didn't speak English. She had cousins in Philly, but her mother was in Ukraine along with many of her siblings. Her brother had gone to Australia. The move certainly could not have been easy for her, especially not with two young children.
So, one must ask why did she moved here? The answer is simple. She had no other options. Germany was broken, and Baba couldn't tolerate living there anyway. While I never heard her utter one thing against the Germans, she also made it clear she wished to never return. After the war some of the family returned to Ukraine, but this was during the Stalin era. Many of these people were lost forever. Baba went wherever she could get a foothold. She didn't see her mother or any of the rest of her family for nearly 30 years.
After a while Baba and Papa Joe moved from Philly down to Richmond, where Papa Joe set up shop as a barber and Baba set to raising her children. When the marriage didn't work out, Baba found a factory job. My father and my aunt would bring home school work to help her learn english. My dad remembers helping his mom understand his kindergarten homework. She worked hard, she pinched pennies, and after 10 years she bought a house- her pride and joy and where she lived until she died.
My father attended college, and when I was born he (and my mom) made sure I was well-cared for and provided for. It was often difficult, but he made sure I attended some of the finest schools in the area because he recognized the importance of a good education as well as decent connections. I attended and completed college upon my parents' persistence. It didn't matter what the degree was in just so long as I had one. Now, I have my own business, I employ others, and I'm looking to expand.
Personally, I feel my immigrant family has been a plus to American society. I may not be Steve Jobs (another child of an immigrant), but I'd like to think we've had a positive influence. And so, I have to think about something. What if, as my grandparents were applying for refugee status in the US, someone had said, "No. They're living in Germany. They could be Nazis." What if they'd had to stay in Europe simply because someone saw where they were from and thought they might pose a threat? How would that have changed life? What sort of conditions would my aunt and dad have lived in? Would they have lived at all?
I don't claim to be an expert on world politics. There's a lot that I wish I knew more about. One thing I do know, though, is that the immigration policy is not easy. It's not an open door to anyone. People work hard to get in, and it's a huge achievement when they do. And once they're here they have to start their lives all over again, oftentimes without the support of family. When I think of the Syrian refugees that so many politicians are trying to ban I just think of that mother with two children under the age of 5. What will she do? What will happen to her? What will happen to her children?
It's just something to think about.
My dad was born in 1950 in post-war Germany. My Baba (grandmother) had been taken from her home in Ukraine during WWII to work as slave labor. I know very little details about her time there, because she refused to talk about it. The only things I do know are that the farm she was put on was owned by a family that was relatively kind to her, and she had an acid burn across her chest. How it got there, one can only guess.
In 1946 my aunt was born. I don't know the story of her birth or how my grandparents met, but from what I understand she was born out of wedlock. Four years later, now married, my grandparents were attempting to immigrate to America. My Baba had a cousin who lived in Philly, and that was helping to speed up the process, because this cousin was able to vouch for this little family. As it's been told to me, just before everything was finalized, my dad was born, and now they had to wait even longer so they could obtain the proper documents for him.
At 6 months old, my dad was finally granted access to the US along with my Baba, my Papa Joe, and my Aunt Irena. Baba wasn't extremely educated. While she was an extraordinary gardener, she only had the equivalent of a 4th grade education, and while she could speak about 10 slavic languages and some German, she didn't speak English. She had cousins in Philly, but her mother was in Ukraine along with many of her siblings. Her brother had gone to Australia. The move certainly could not have been easy for her, especially not with two young children.
So, one must ask why did she moved here? The answer is simple. She had no other options. Germany was broken, and Baba couldn't tolerate living there anyway. While I never heard her utter one thing against the Germans, she also made it clear she wished to never return. After the war some of the family returned to Ukraine, but this was during the Stalin era. Many of these people were lost forever. Baba went wherever she could get a foothold. She didn't see her mother or any of the rest of her family for nearly 30 years.
After a while Baba and Papa Joe moved from Philly down to Richmond, where Papa Joe set up shop as a barber and Baba set to raising her children. When the marriage didn't work out, Baba found a factory job. My father and my aunt would bring home school work to help her learn english. My dad remembers helping his mom understand his kindergarten homework. She worked hard, she pinched pennies, and after 10 years she bought a house- her pride and joy and where she lived until she died.
My father attended college, and when I was born he (and my mom) made sure I was well-cared for and provided for. It was often difficult, but he made sure I attended some of the finest schools in the area because he recognized the importance of a good education as well as decent connections. I attended and completed college upon my parents' persistence. It didn't matter what the degree was in just so long as I had one. Now, I have my own business, I employ others, and I'm looking to expand.
Personally, I feel my immigrant family has been a plus to American society. I may not be Steve Jobs (another child of an immigrant), but I'd like to think we've had a positive influence. And so, I have to think about something. What if, as my grandparents were applying for refugee status in the US, someone had said, "No. They're living in Germany. They could be Nazis." What if they'd had to stay in Europe simply because someone saw where they were from and thought they might pose a threat? How would that have changed life? What sort of conditions would my aunt and dad have lived in? Would they have lived at all?
I don't claim to be an expert on world politics. There's a lot that I wish I knew more about. One thing I do know, though, is that the immigration policy is not easy. It's not an open door to anyone. People work hard to get in, and it's a huge achievement when they do. And once they're here they have to start their lives all over again, oftentimes without the support of family. When I think of the Syrian refugees that so many politicians are trying to ban I just think of that mother with two children under the age of 5. What will she do? What will happen to her? What will happen to her children?
It's just something to think about.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
The Marathon
I had planned on writing this post on Saturday, right after the race, but I was too tired. Then I thought I'd write it Sunday, but the day got away. Now it's Thursday, and I'm FINALLY getting around to it. How did it go? Let me just put it this way:
HURRAY!!! YAHOO!!! YIPPEE!!!
My goal was to finish in under 5 hours. That was it. I mean, I had a minor goal of finishing in 4:30:00, but that was quite lofty. Previously my fastest time was 5:11:00. That was even when all of my training runs had pointed to me finishing in 4:50:00 or less, so I was really nervous. When race day came I was excited and nervous, and I wasn't certain as to what would come.
I met up with my running buddy prior to the race and we agreed to stick together as long as we could, but we weren't holding each other back. Luckily the weather was beautiful, and I was feeling as great as ever. Running with her was great. She and I trained for our first marathon together, and we've been running together ever since. Finding a great running buddy is difficult. For shorter runs it's fairly easy, but the longer runs are the ones that get you. A good running buddy will talk about topics that interest you, but they'll also know how much to talk and how loud to talk. During a long, hard run a buddy who talks too much or too loudly or simply about things you don't want to talk about can be painful, so it was quite nice to have someone I was so comfortable with.
Through those first few miles, life was easy. Hans and the gang missed me at the first stop (we passed sooner than they'd anticipated), but we were able to hand off jackets and what not around mile 5, even though we arrived slightly earlier than they'd expected. We saw them again at mile 10 where I high-fived Anna and kept running. Stopping wasn't an option. At the half way point, a stop I normally don't see them at since they're trying to catch me further ahead, I first saw my best friend, Jessica, and her boyfriend, Andrew, along with everyone else. I stopped to give them all hugs and hold Anna for a moment before I continued on. I still felt great.
Around mile 16, we ran into another running friend of ours (he'd finished the Half and had come to cheer us on). He ran with us and encouraged us on for a little while. For the most part, we stuck together until mile 16 / 17. At that point, I was feeling great and she was starting to struggle (she ran another marathon 3 weeks prior), so she walked a bit while I forged ahead. I saw Jess & Andrew, Jackie, Dan, and Dad at Mile 20. Hans was with Anna who was asleep in the car. And then the pain set in.
Oh boy did the pain set in. I found out later that, in filling up my fuel bottles the night before, Hans had filled them with only water instead of a coconut water mixture. He's always filled them perfectly in the past, so I'm not sure what happened this time (some sort of miscommunication), but by mile 20 my electrolytes and everything was off. My left quad started to cramp first due to the angle and slope of the road, and as I tried to alleviate that everything else started hurting. I hadn't walked for the first 20 miles, but I was walking a lot now.
Just before mile 23 I started running next to another girl who was chatty. Usually I'd love the opportunity to forget my pain and chat, but I hurt too much. I just wanted to look at her and say, "Would you please SHUT UP!?" It was her first marathon, she was from western VA, she wished she and her friends had made shirts, yadda yadda yadda. I didn't care. I was just about to start walking or run faster to avoid her when I heard a voice call my name. I looked back and I saw MY RUNNING BUDDY!! I'm not sure how I sounded when I said her name, but in my mind it was like seeing a long lost friend after being separated over 20 years. Oh the joy!!!
She was running faster than I was at the time, but she was also enjoying long walk breaks. I could run with her. I could let her talk and not respond, she knew to not ask questions. Around mile 25 or so, we saw our other running buddy again. He was going to take us to the finish (or as close as possible). I stopped to tie my shoe in anticipation of the huge downhill before the finish.
I was worried about how I'd feel running down that hill. My legs hurt so bad, and I was worried they wouldn't support me as I raced downward, but I didn't need to worry. That down hill was an utter blessing. I let myself free fall towards the finish. My feet simply followed my body as I got faster and faster. I past person after person after person, each just one blur after the next. And then, I crossed the finish line.
I saw Hans and Anna and Jackie and Dan and Dad. They were all there, cheering for me. I stopped my watch. How close had I come to my goal?
4:35:17
I beat my previous record by 36 minutes. I didn't necessarily hit 4:30:00, but at least that second number was still a 3. I was pleased as punch.
I stretched out afterwards and then joined my running buddies on the grass. The one thing I'm still working on is immediate recovery. I was fine later that day, but at that very moment I felt sick. I couldn't eat, I was cold, and I just wanted to lie down. Hans got me home and showered and fed, and after a couple of restful hours (reading, sleeping, etc) I was good to go. We enjoyed Chicago pizza (Hans had it shipped in special) and pie, and Jessica joined in the celebrations. All in all, it was a great race.
I have a lot more to talk about it for post-marathon, but I'll leave this for now. I'm perfectly happy.
HURRAY!!! YAHOO!!! YIPPEE!!!
My goal was to finish in under 5 hours. That was it. I mean, I had a minor goal of finishing in 4:30:00, but that was quite lofty. Previously my fastest time was 5:11:00. That was even when all of my training runs had pointed to me finishing in 4:50:00 or less, so I was really nervous. When race day came I was excited and nervous, and I wasn't certain as to what would come.
I met up with my running buddy prior to the race and we agreed to stick together as long as we could, but we weren't holding each other back. Luckily the weather was beautiful, and I was feeling as great as ever. Running with her was great. She and I trained for our first marathon together, and we've been running together ever since. Finding a great running buddy is difficult. For shorter runs it's fairly easy, but the longer runs are the ones that get you. A good running buddy will talk about topics that interest you, but they'll also know how much to talk and how loud to talk. During a long, hard run a buddy who talks too much or too loudly or simply about things you don't want to talk about can be painful, so it was quite nice to have someone I was so comfortable with.
Through those first few miles, life was easy. Hans and the gang missed me at the first stop (we passed sooner than they'd anticipated), but we were able to hand off jackets and what not around mile 5, even though we arrived slightly earlier than they'd expected. We saw them again at mile 10 where I high-fived Anna and kept running. Stopping wasn't an option. At the half way point, a stop I normally don't see them at since they're trying to catch me further ahead, I first saw my best friend, Jessica, and her boyfriend, Andrew, along with everyone else. I stopped to give them all hugs and hold Anna for a moment before I continued on. I still felt great.
Around mile 16, we ran into another running friend of ours (he'd finished the Half and had come to cheer us on). He ran with us and encouraged us on for a little while. For the most part, we stuck together until mile 16 / 17. At that point, I was feeling great and she was starting to struggle (she ran another marathon 3 weeks prior), so she walked a bit while I forged ahead. I saw Jess & Andrew, Jackie, Dan, and Dad at Mile 20. Hans was with Anna who was asleep in the car. And then the pain set in.
Oh boy did the pain set in. I found out later that, in filling up my fuel bottles the night before, Hans had filled them with only water instead of a coconut water mixture. He's always filled them perfectly in the past, so I'm not sure what happened this time (some sort of miscommunication), but by mile 20 my electrolytes and everything was off. My left quad started to cramp first due to the angle and slope of the road, and as I tried to alleviate that everything else started hurting. I hadn't walked for the first 20 miles, but I was walking a lot now.
Just before mile 23 I started running next to another girl who was chatty. Usually I'd love the opportunity to forget my pain and chat, but I hurt too much. I just wanted to look at her and say, "Would you please SHUT UP!?" It was her first marathon, she was from western VA, she wished she and her friends had made shirts, yadda yadda yadda. I didn't care. I was just about to start walking or run faster to avoid her when I heard a voice call my name. I looked back and I saw MY RUNNING BUDDY!! I'm not sure how I sounded when I said her name, but in my mind it was like seeing a long lost friend after being separated over 20 years. Oh the joy!!!
She was running faster than I was at the time, but she was also enjoying long walk breaks. I could run with her. I could let her talk and not respond, she knew to not ask questions. Around mile 25 or so, we saw our other running buddy again. He was going to take us to the finish (or as close as possible). I stopped to tie my shoe in anticipation of the huge downhill before the finish.
I was worried about how I'd feel running down that hill. My legs hurt so bad, and I was worried they wouldn't support me as I raced downward, but I didn't need to worry. That down hill was an utter blessing. I let myself free fall towards the finish. My feet simply followed my body as I got faster and faster. I past person after person after person, each just one blur after the next. And then, I crossed the finish line.
I saw Hans and Anna and Jackie and Dan and Dad. They were all there, cheering for me. I stopped my watch. How close had I come to my goal?
4:35:17
I beat my previous record by 36 minutes. I didn't necessarily hit 4:30:00, but at least that second number was still a 3. I was pleased as punch.
I stretched out afterwards and then joined my running buddies on the grass. The one thing I'm still working on is immediate recovery. I was fine later that day, but at that very moment I felt sick. I couldn't eat, I was cold, and I just wanted to lie down. Hans got me home and showered and fed, and after a couple of restful hours (reading, sleeping, etc) I was good to go. We enjoyed Chicago pizza (Hans had it shipped in special) and pie, and Jessica joined in the celebrations. All in all, it was a great race.
I have a lot more to talk about it for post-marathon, but I'll leave this for now. I'm perfectly happy.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Race Morning
Have you ever been so happy you're sad? I know it sounds odd, but that's how I feel right now. I'm so happy I want to cry because I wish every day of my life could be as wonderful as the past few have been.
It is currently 6:15 on Saturday morning. My bags are packed for the day, and I'm decked out in running gear. Hans is showering, the dogs are just waking up, I'm getting ready to wake up Anna (a terrifying prospect), and in an hour and a half I'll be staring my 4th marathon (slightly less terrifying than waking the sleeping baby). In addition to this great day, two of my best and dearest friends, Jackie and Dan, are in town to visit. I couldn't be any happier.
Let me first say that I never really realized just how happy having them here would make me. You see, I'm not a great long-distance friend. I don't Skype, I hate phone conversations. If I'm going to call you, it's going to be to make plans for what we'll do later. I hate just chatting, (Unless I'm running. Then I'll chat for hours.) So, I don't often get to enjoy my closest friends. While mentally I know they're always there, there are a few moments when not having them around leaves me feeling horribly lonely. Those moments when life is hard and you just want to circle the wagons and have your dearest friends close around you become extra hard when your dearest friends are spread across the country. It's just very nice to have them so close.
And I don't want to get sappy or overly-sentimental, but the past few days have been filled with nothing but love. I love these two people more than even I think I can realize, and it's nice not just to feel that from them but also to be able to exude that love. I know that sounds like some new-age hippy crap, and I can actually picture my mom saying something like that and me rolling my eyes in exasperation and annoyance, but it's true. It's an energy, a joy, a happiness that leaves one feeling so happy. It makes me feel closer to God. It makes me feel like I've come home. It makes me feel like I'm wrapped in a wonderful embrace.
Side note: I know at least one of these people reads my blog, and I have NO IDEA how this person will react to this outpouring of emotion. I would like to tell this person: Yes, this is how I feel. Yes, it's difficult to put into words. Yes, it's awkward. Deal with it. I love you, and I always will. Y'all are my giants. :D
Yesterday, a friend sent me a Facebook message essentially saying that Mom would be with me during this run. It was sweet, and I loved it, but I realized something. Since my friends have arrived, I haven't been as upset about not having Mom on the course. I know I can feel both upset over Mom and joy over my friends, but somehow the joy of having them is too great. I find I'm thanking Mom or God for all the little treasures. That beautiful sunrise? That's a gift. The little quirky things that happen? That's a sign. It's beautiful.
Jackie and I actually had a conversation yesterday about the belief in a higher being. Is God real? What are the arguments from people who believe versus those who don't? I made the comment that I've had too much happen in my life for me to not believe in a higher power. I've felt too much love, experienced too much grace. I simply can't believe that there is not a higher power out there.
OK, I'm starting to ramble. I really didn't intend for this to be a blog post about God or Love or anything else. I simply wanted to state how happy and excited I am to have these two wonderful people in my life and to announce my marathon. Ah, stream of consciousness! Anyway, I have a race to run. Am I nervous? Unbelievably so. Am I excited? Unbelievably so! Wish me luck!!
It is currently 6:15 on Saturday morning. My bags are packed for the day, and I'm decked out in running gear. Hans is showering, the dogs are just waking up, I'm getting ready to wake up Anna (a terrifying prospect), and in an hour and a half I'll be staring my 4th marathon (slightly less terrifying than waking the sleeping baby). In addition to this great day, two of my best and dearest friends, Jackie and Dan, are in town to visit. I couldn't be any happier.
Let me first say that I never really realized just how happy having them here would make me. You see, I'm not a great long-distance friend. I don't Skype, I hate phone conversations. If I'm going to call you, it's going to be to make plans for what we'll do later. I hate just chatting, (Unless I'm running. Then I'll chat for hours.) So, I don't often get to enjoy my closest friends. While mentally I know they're always there, there are a few moments when not having them around leaves me feeling horribly lonely. Those moments when life is hard and you just want to circle the wagons and have your dearest friends close around you become extra hard when your dearest friends are spread across the country. It's just very nice to have them so close.
And I don't want to get sappy or overly-sentimental, but the past few days have been filled with nothing but love. I love these two people more than even I think I can realize, and it's nice not just to feel that from them but also to be able to exude that love. I know that sounds like some new-age hippy crap, and I can actually picture my mom saying something like that and me rolling my eyes in exasperation and annoyance, but it's true. It's an energy, a joy, a happiness that leaves one feeling so happy. It makes me feel closer to God. It makes me feel like I've come home. It makes me feel like I'm wrapped in a wonderful embrace.
Side note: I know at least one of these people reads my blog, and I have NO IDEA how this person will react to this outpouring of emotion. I would like to tell this person: Yes, this is how I feel. Yes, it's difficult to put into words. Yes, it's awkward. Deal with it. I love you, and I always will. Y'all are my giants. :D
Yesterday, a friend sent me a Facebook message essentially saying that Mom would be with me during this run. It was sweet, and I loved it, but I realized something. Since my friends have arrived, I haven't been as upset about not having Mom on the course. I know I can feel both upset over Mom and joy over my friends, but somehow the joy of having them is too great. I find I'm thanking Mom or God for all the little treasures. That beautiful sunrise? That's a gift. The little quirky things that happen? That's a sign. It's beautiful.
Jackie and I actually had a conversation yesterday about the belief in a higher being. Is God real? What are the arguments from people who believe versus those who don't? I made the comment that I've had too much happen in my life for me to not believe in a higher power. I've felt too much love, experienced too much grace. I simply can't believe that there is not a higher power out there.
OK, I'm starting to ramble. I really didn't intend for this to be a blog post about God or Love or anything else. I simply wanted to state how happy and excited I am to have these two wonderful people in my life and to announce my marathon. Ah, stream of consciousness! Anyway, I have a race to run. Am I nervous? Unbelievably so. Am I excited? Unbelievably so! Wish me luck!!
Friday, October 16, 2015
Why I Run
Hello again! Man, I go a few months with only 1 post a month, if that, and here I am posting 3 in 2 days. I'm just full of inspiration. I will say I have a lot more I'd like to talk about, but I'm really struggling to wrap my head around some things and put into words what I'm trying to say. If I can figure it out, I'll let you know. That being said, I wanted to write today about why I run.
There are a lot of reasons why I started running. I wanted to lose weight, it was something that was hard for me, and I wanted to get better, all the 'cool' kids did it, maybe even as a way to bond with my dad, the high school and college track star. But none of those reasons really explain why I continued running. For a long time, if someone had asked me why I continued running I'd have given them pretty much one basic answer. I'd have said I got a great endorphin rush and the exercise kept me from becoming to anxious. But there's more to it than that. To do explain, I have to tell you a short story.
Back in college I studied music, and as part of my studies I took both piano lessons and voice lessons. I'll never forget one particular week where both of my teachers in these subjects essentially told me the same thing. They told me I needed to expose my soul. Here I was, singing and playing my heart out, thinking I was being super expressive, and they told me they just weren't feeling it. I needed to expose my soul. Honestly, I really didn't know how to take that. I've always thought of myself as a fairly open person; I don't really have much to hide, so I had no clue how to expose more. After being told this, I started to notice this phrase (or some variation) popped up quite often in my life. But, still I had no idea how to apply this to myself. I thought I did it when I was singing a song about being homesick. I mean, I was as homesick as they come. This was a subject I could really relate to. Alas, no. My instructor simply told me I was sharing enough of myself. At the time I was frustrated beyond belief. Now I think he may have been right.
So this leads me back to running. For a long time I wondered if I ran to escape my emotions. I mean, if I can't expose my soul in music then I must really be working at repressing emotions. But I never really felt like I had anything to run from. Running has always felt like I'm headed towards something, not away from it. I had kind of settled on running as a way of meditation. The deep breaths, the rhythmic pattern of my feet and breath, even the sound in my ears. Yes, meditation. And that almost hit it, but I don't always feel relaxed and calm after a run. Even after good runs, I often feel slightly more agitated...slightly more exposed.
And finally, today, it dawned on me. I run because running allows me to expose my soul. After a run, I'm tired. The better and longer the run the more tired I am. In the end, I don't have any energy left to hide my true self. Some of my best cries have been after wonderful runs. I'll be happy but exhausted, I will have spent the past X miles thinking about various topics so there's nothing clouding my mind, and suddenly I will be hit with some emotion. Somehow running allows me to tap into that part of me that I often keep hidden, even from myself. It allows me to turn off my brain for long enough to truly feel my emotions. I can't begin to explain the joy this brings me. I'm able to feel every emotion I've buried deep within; every emotion that I normally only scrape the surface of: joy, sorrow, anger, it's all there. Running allows me to actually feel it.
Now, I'm not saying I feel every little emotion with every single run. Sometimes I run just to hang out with friends, and sometimes I run because I had too much cake (on my birthday), but that wouldn't keep me running in the long haul. I run because I finally get what my instructors were trying to tell me years ago. I run to expose my soul.
There are a lot of reasons why I started running. I wanted to lose weight, it was something that was hard for me, and I wanted to get better, all the 'cool' kids did it, maybe even as a way to bond with my dad, the high school and college track star. But none of those reasons really explain why I continued running. For a long time, if someone had asked me why I continued running I'd have given them pretty much one basic answer. I'd have said I got a great endorphin rush and the exercise kept me from becoming to anxious. But there's more to it than that. To do explain, I have to tell you a short story.
Back in college I studied music, and as part of my studies I took both piano lessons and voice lessons. I'll never forget one particular week where both of my teachers in these subjects essentially told me the same thing. They told me I needed to expose my soul. Here I was, singing and playing my heart out, thinking I was being super expressive, and they told me they just weren't feeling it. I needed to expose my soul. Honestly, I really didn't know how to take that. I've always thought of myself as a fairly open person; I don't really have much to hide, so I had no clue how to expose more. After being told this, I started to notice this phrase (or some variation) popped up quite often in my life. But, still I had no idea how to apply this to myself. I thought I did it when I was singing a song about being homesick. I mean, I was as homesick as they come. This was a subject I could really relate to. Alas, no. My instructor simply told me I was sharing enough of myself. At the time I was frustrated beyond belief. Now I think he may have been right.
So this leads me back to running. For a long time I wondered if I ran to escape my emotions. I mean, if I can't expose my soul in music then I must really be working at repressing emotions. But I never really felt like I had anything to run from. Running has always felt like I'm headed towards something, not away from it. I had kind of settled on running as a way of meditation. The deep breaths, the rhythmic pattern of my feet and breath, even the sound in my ears. Yes, meditation. And that almost hit it, but I don't always feel relaxed and calm after a run. Even after good runs, I often feel slightly more agitated...slightly more exposed.
And finally, today, it dawned on me. I run because running allows me to expose my soul. After a run, I'm tired. The better and longer the run the more tired I am. In the end, I don't have any energy left to hide my true self. Some of my best cries have been after wonderful runs. I'll be happy but exhausted, I will have spent the past X miles thinking about various topics so there's nothing clouding my mind, and suddenly I will be hit with some emotion. Somehow running allows me to tap into that part of me that I often keep hidden, even from myself. It allows me to turn off my brain for long enough to truly feel my emotions. I can't begin to explain the joy this brings me. I'm able to feel every emotion I've buried deep within; every emotion that I normally only scrape the surface of: joy, sorrow, anger, it's all there. Running allows me to actually feel it.
Now, I'm not saying I feel every little emotion with every single run. Sometimes I run just to hang out with friends, and sometimes I run because I had too much cake (on my birthday), but that wouldn't keep me running in the long haul. I run because I finally get what my instructors were trying to tell me years ago. I run to expose my soul.
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