Halfway to the Goal

Well, tonight was my 5th run with my running program, which marks the halfway point. (Technically, it was my 4th run, since I missed last week with my sore knee.) I was very nervous, having missed our first stab at a two-mile run last time. I was afraid I'd either be dead last or puking on the sidelines, but I ended up where I always am, in the middle. (Funny, that middle-ground could describe lots of things in my life, now that I think about it--sports abilities, political beliefs, etc..)

The good news was, my running buddy decided to run a bit slower tonight because she really struggled last week. So, it worked out well with my needing to start off slower with testing out my knee. I only worked out twice, instead of the 4 runs they tell you to do a week. After tonight, I decided that running every other day might be best with my feet/knee issues.

So, as I sit here and type, my shins and feet are aching, but the rest of me feels so alive. I was commenting to my running coach, I can't believe how you forget (even as you're running each time), how good you feel even five minutes after a long run. And that high stays with you for hours later. I feel like even my BLOOD is flowing more productively, as crazy as that sounds!

So, I'm halfway to my goal. I just really hope my knee holds out for it all. I really am looking forward to the 5K. It will feel good to run it as best I can and have my family waiting at the end to cheer me on.

My goal of losing weight seems to have not happened so far, as I'm the same weight as I was before. (However, my body is getting toned, and it is visible to me at least.) But, now that I'm into this, that doesn't even seem to matter anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, since I have started this program, my weight/food obsessing has really almost gone away. I am just a happier person and I focus less on my waistline and feeling negative. (And, I'm sure my email friends who usually get my weight-fixated emails are happy about this too!)

So, regardless of the outcome, I am happy I did this. And I'm on the right track now at least.

That's going to be it for tonight. My daughter, who refused to go to bed until 10 p.m. tonight, is screaming. Screaming is a new thing for her. I'll have to write more about it soon. Let me just tease you with this--my darling, adorably cute, almost 1-year-old is already having the tantrums of a two year old, she's fully walking, and when she is really, really happy--well, she lets out a nice blood-curdling scream. The kind of scream that makes people drop what they are doing and look around for who is being attacked by a large dog.

Hmm...maybe I don't need to run to get the blood flowing. All I need to do is just let her "let it rip" on a really happy day! More news soon...

Of Eggs and Those You'd Like To Egg!

So, to start off, my Easter was really wonderful. Yes, it was cold and rainy here. Yes, my kids had to hunt eggs again this year with their cousins in my mother-in-law's house. There was too many people, not enough space for the eggs, and little challenge to the hunt. And my father-in-law was very ill with either heat exhaustion (a whole other story) or a stomach bug and we were all worried about him.

But, it was still a great Easter. Why? Well, for starters, my son was thrilled with the Easter basket Mom left for him. Then, we actually made it to church on time, in time enough to get a seat in the packed sanctuary. My daughter looked like an angel in her pretty Easter dress. And then, the Easter service was--without a doubt--one of the most beautiful moving services I have been to in a very long time.

The entire church was decorated with spring flowers. Members of the church donated for a brass quartet. The choir and handbell choirs were FILLED with more voices and hands than I have ever seen them have before. And, I was just feeling so thankful to be there with a lot of my family that day. Then, when my son, decided to take off running down the aisle (on his own accord) to meet his "Maw-Maw" with a huge hug after Communion, well it just made my day (and hers too, I think).

I sat there re-evaluating things in my mind. We'd talked about leaving this church because of the service time and the drive we make just to attend where my mother-in-law goes by herself. Suddenly, that didn't seem such a big deal. Then, they announced their new summer hours which are just right for us. We have never given this church a complete chance. We go for the service and immediately leave, meeting no one and not even attending Sunday school. Sunday, I decided it is time to commit and to start being a real member of this church community.

Now, as far as the "Egg-in-the-Face" awards, I give those to three people. To the family members who decided to put their own outside plans over the well-being of my elderly in-laws, ignoring that they stayed out in the sun way too long (hence possibly leading to my father-in-law's very scary illness)---SPLAT, a double-yolker for you both. ARGH!

And, lastly, to that "archenemy" I spoke of in a recent post, who just had $18,000 of plastic surgery to look trim and who still doesn't lift a finger to exercise. A hard-boiled big THUNK upside your noggin' for the comment yelled across the street at me coming back from the gym, "That Stephanie is just MORE MOTIVATED than we are, I guess." Uh, yeah! I don't have that kind of money to chunk down on liposuction and wouldn't do that even if I did. Hmm...where's another egg...she actually might deserve two. HA!

Now, with Super Leak Guard!

OK, I knew my blogging was getting way too serious and introspective, and it was only a matter of time until something bizarre happened. This is MY life we're talking about here, right?

So, my son had a neighbor friend over today. The two are known to get into things, but have never made too much trouble. After they managed to spill all the huge container of bubbles in the driveway, they decided to come in to change out of their swimsuits and get dried off to play. Soon after, I heard whispers upstairs and walked to the bottom stair to speak to them.

"Boys? Is everything OK? Need a hand?"

Immediately, the neighbor friend shouts in a panicked voice, "Don't COME UP HERE! We're just getting changed!"

And, my son added, "We're fine. We don't need you, Mom!"

Of course, I immediately knew SOMETHING was up and I was darn sure I was going to find out what. So, I gave them a minute. Then, I silently crept up the stairs to SEE what fine things they were doing.

As I walked into the sink area of the bathroom, I saw my son's friend quickly throw a puffy white object into my daughter's adjoining room. My son, looked down at his feet sheepishly.

"What ARE you guys doing?"

"Uh, nothing." (simultaneously)

"What is going on here?"

"Nothing."

Then, I pulled my son aside and explained to him that I really didn't like sneaking around and lying and I needed to know what was going on. He looked at me with eyes, pleading me not to ask him again to tell me. But, I did.

"Well, we were just trying them on, Mom."

"What? What were you trying on?"

He glances down and only then did I noticed that his camouflage shorts, which are usually quite big on him, seemed much tighter. He pulled the zipper down some to reveal...

HIS SISTER'S BABY DIAPER put on over his own underwear but under his shorts!

I tried very hard not to fall down my stairs laughing hysterically.

"Why? Why did you do this? Why did you guys WANT to put on a baby diaper? You are big boys! Why would you DO that?"

"Well, I don't know, Mom. We just did."

Later, I called his friend's Mom (also a good friend of mine). Her response?

"Well, I guess it is better than finding them trying on girls' underwear." (pause)
"But, STILL, PLEASE don't tell anyone!"

So, yeah, I'm breaking that confidence by putting this out on a blog (which she doesn't know about anyway), and possibly risking future humiliation for my son. But this was just TOO HILARIOUS of a story to not tell!

Now, all day, I've had in my head that commercial..."Mommy, WOW! I'm a big kid now!"

No Intervention Necessary

Ok, just thought I should send a little happy blog out since I have friends contacting me out of concern after that last depressing blog. I had my ladies luncheon thing, it was great. People were nice. I'm not depressed or sad even, I just took a stroll down a memory lane that wasn't so pleasant I guess!

So, happy, happy...I am happy. No worries here! Hehehe. More happy blogs later!

: )

The Sting of Rejection

Today, my mind is on the topic of acceptance. More specifically, why do we feel we need to be accepted so much? I'm going to a luncheon for ladies living on our block today, given by a neighbor. This is a circle I have not been really included in much, because I don't have a child yet going to school and riding the school bus. (The school bus crowd is the real grapevine in our neighborhood. So far, I have joked that I have avoided being in this loop...just watching a little from the outside.)

I've been told, it is much nicer to be on the outside of the loop, than to be right in it. I guess I am about to find out, once my son starts kindergarten next year. These women have always been friendly to me, inviting me to the occasional bunco or social gathering. But, I am an outsider. And I know it. And I haven't decided yet if I like that or not.

So, why does this matter? Why does the acceptance of people I barely know and may not have anything in common with make a "hill of beans" in the grand cooking pot of life? (Dumb analogy, I know...) And, why am I feeling a little nervous anxiety to even be going to this?

Thinking back this morning, I am having flashbacks to times of rejection in my life. I think that's the thing about it really. It is not that I so need to be accepted by these people. I have several circles of friends who love me for who I am already. It is the fear of being REJECTED that has me a tad nervous.

I remember the first big rejection was in the 6th grade. I'd been invited to spend the night with a girlfriend of mine who happened to be friends with the two most popular girls in the class. I was friendly with these girls and had never "felt their wrath" of rejection. I was quieter and maybe not as easy of a target or something. So, we all get to my friend's house for the slumber party and we're having a great time. I leave the room to go to the bathroom. When I come back the three of them are whispering lowly and I hear my name. It became instantly clear that they were talking about me, and not in a good way.

Later, my friend confided in me (rather meanly, now that I think about it), that the two popular girls were asking her why she invited me. They didn't want me there. I wasn't in their crowd. Before this, I had no clue if I was in a crowd or not. I tried to be nice to everyone and it hurt to think someone didn't like me. After all, what had I ever done to them?

In college, I had a similar turn of events that to this day still stings a bit. My freshman year, I'd made a great circle of girl friends in my dorm . We stayed up late at night joking and talking, we'd even written and visited each other during the summer. I came back for my sophomore year earlier, because I had sorority rush. I had lost some weight, changed my hair up, and was feeling great about being back at college. The first few weeks of school, I was consumed with sorority stuff every day and only got to chat with my pals when I was going to and from things. I made an effort where I could and was looking forward to hanging out with them soon.

Then, I met my future husband. I was totally consumed with "being in love" and walking around in a cloud. I spent most of my time with him. And then, it happened. One morning while "visiting the facilities" I started reading the posterboards our dorm supervisor had hung in each stall for people to doodle funny notes to each other on. And, I found something really nasty written about me--by my closest friend in the dorm girls circle.

She'd written something jokingly to the other girls about me! Like I was someone they talked about in a negative way? I was totally baffled and hurt. I had no idea they didn't like me, and especially didn't like me enough to make public jokes about me right where I can see them! I was devastated. I asked another friend who I felt I could trust from the circle. She got visibly upset when I told her what I'd found. She said, she'd already asked them to stop writing mean things about me. She told me that she thought they were just jealous of me because of my sorority stuff, the new boyfriend, weight loss etc, and that I should blow them off.

Only I couldn't. I was too shocked and hurt. And, worse than this, she didn't come join forces with me in friendship either, she chose to stay friends with "the haters" and did less with me after that. It changed everything for me in college, having gone through that. I avoided my dorm after that. I felt sick when I'd see them in a group and knew they'd be talking about me after I walked off.

But, the biggest thing that bothered me, is not knowing what I did to provoke their hatred. I'd never said anything ugly about any of them. I'd never bragged or acted better than them, or done anything to deserve the wrath that I got that year. And, to this day, I get very angry when I see women who act like these girls--deciding to talk about or pick on someone else just for fun. Why do women do this?

Wow. This is too long. But, I needed to say some of that. And this need for acceptance, or need to not be rejected, is something I really need to outgrow. I hope that as I get older, it is something I can learn--to be able to walk away, head held high, and be glad to not be accepted by people who I really don't want to associate with anyway.

One Step Forward...Two Limps Back

I'm fighting the urge to beat myself up tonight. It should have been my 4th run with the team, only I didn't go. But, I think I made the right decision in not going.

My left knee has gotten progressively worse. Today, I knelt down to tie Ryan's shoe at his Easter Egg Hunt and felt a serious shooting pain up my left leg. Later, the damn dog got out and I had to chase her around the block with my comfy slide-on sandals on. By the time I caught her and hobbled back to the house, I realized there was no way I could run two miles on the track that night with my team. My knee was in bad shape and I knew it.

I'm frustrated, mad, and unhappy about not going. I know that sounds crazy. It is ONE night out of the 10-week program. But, I signed on to do this, and have met it with enthusiasm and optimism because I have done fairly decent so far.

More than anything, I'm nervous right now. I'm scared that this is an injury that will progressively get worse and prevent me from reaching my goal. And, I NEED to reach this goal.

I know many of you don't get this. It seems silly to put all your hopes and eggs into one basket, especially when you're just starting back to running again after 17 years of not doing it. And, as a friend reminded me, I had a baby less than a year ago. So, why the urgency?

The thing is, I'm not trying to set unrealistic goals for myself. This is something I MUST do for my health, to help lose weight and prevent diabetes. I feel like my back is against the wall. The only problem is, that wall is slippery and now I'm sliding down into failure by something that is NOT in my control. This isn't because I'm burned out on it. It's not because I'm being lazy and giving up. It is because my knees can't handle the pounding on the pavement with my flat feet at my weight.

Aside from the health reasons (which are reason enough), I NEED to complete this goal for myself for mental reasons. I haven't felt I have been a success at much of anything since I decided to give up my career for awhile to stay home with my kids. This is concrete and attainable (or so I thought). It is something I used to do that gave me pride. I need pride. Somewhere along the way my pride and confidence went out the window and gave way to insecurity and a certain level of depression. So (all together now), I NEED to complete this goal!

I actually had a friend tell me the other night that it has "been proven" that most long distance runners are "small-boned" people (which she would definitely be considered). I felt like asking her, "So, are you saying that I'm too big to run and I should give up?" It really bugged me and made me more determined to succeed at this running thing...to at least get to the point where I'm fit, have lost some weight and run regularly. Even if I did those things, I would still and will always be big-boned. And I wanted to prove to this person that what she said was insulting and dead wrong, even if she didn't mean to irritate me with her comments.

And here I am. Injured, still overweight, and now having to temporarily back off of this goal that I so desperately need to complete. No one gets why I'm fixated on this. My closest friends have tried to persuade me to "try swimming" or something less hard on the body. But, I don't want to. I want to do this. And it's killing me that right now I can't.

Late Monday Meme

Got this on someone's blog and thought I'd post a late Monday Meme. Reply back with your answers or post it on your blog and share!

My name is: Stephanie (duh)

I may seem: very organized (but I'm not actually)

People who know me think: lately--that I'm way too hormonal; typically--I'm a loyal friend.

If you knew me you'd probably: be surprised by how messy my house can get when no one sees it

Sometimes I feel: like I will never learn to fully love and accept myself, warts and all

My days are pretty: busy--I over-schedule myself even when I'm not involved in organized activities. I need more down-time.

Yesterday: I had a damn hang-over and it was a BEAUTIFUL day to run, but I didn't. sigh.

In the morning I: Curse having to get up and fight it momentarily, then jump into full busy mode getting everyone ready.

I like to sleep: Period. I don't every sleep well and so, when I do, it is really GLORIOUS!

If I could be doing anything right now I would be: Yes, sleeping--of course!

Money: Is not a stress factor in my life, nor will I ever let it be. But, I sure wish we had a tad more so we could travel more and things like that.

One thing I don't have that I wish I did is: a great set of abs and (SERIOUSLY) a maid for my house twice a month!

One thing I have that I wish I didn't is: that ab flab, and flat feet

All you need is: "love...oh, love is all you need"...(damn song will be in my head now)

All I need is: to chill out and relax more... and access to Oprah's personal training staff and chefs

If I had one wish it would be: To lose the weight I need to be healthy and feel confident about myself again.

Love is: What is up with these questions! How sappy!

If I could see one person right now it would be: My Granna

Something I want but I don't really need is: a fully decorated and furnished house

I live for: watching my kids do incredible things & grow into their own personalities

I am afraid of: disappointing people I love

It makes me angry when: people back-stab and hurt other people for no other reason than their own insecurities

I dream about: I only remember my really bizarre stress dreams or scary ones unfortunately. They always involve random people from different time periods of my life and involve some sort of racing or searching for something frantically.

I daydream about: decorating ideas for my house and yard, reaching my fitness/weight loss goals, and Matthew McConnehy playing the bongos naked (hehehe!)

Dem Some Tired Ol' Bonz!

The lesson I learned this week--I'm NO spring chicken anymore. As 35 is approaching rapidly, I am realizing what they mean when they say you "feel your age."

First off, came a setback with my running program. I went to our third week of practice. In a nutshell, it kicked my butt, but I made it through--vowing to have a good week of training ahead. I don't want to die this next week when the run jumps all the way to two miles straight. (Yes, we'z a little fearful of next week, my friends.)

The evening after the run, and the next few following days, I started having some severe pains and aches in my joints. Specifically, it started in my flat feet (the root of all the evil) and moved to my ankles, knees, and then my hips. After a day or so of rest, I tried running on it again. I had my son (on his bike) and my daughter (in her jogging stroller) and the run was a total disaster. I will NEVER try to run with two kids again--even dangling promises of picnics at the park didn't help my mission. But, aside from the problem of getting to our destination, I was in serious pain. That night and the following few days, my knee joints hurt so bad that it kept me awake at night.

This was all very frustrating and disheartening. I am just about 1/3 of the way to my goal and I don't WANT to quit. But, my body may be trying to force me to. If it were just my being out of shape, I would suck it up and not feel so doomed. But, this is a problem I can't fix. I have flat feet. I buy the right shoes and orthodics, but I had this issue running when I was even a lightweight in high school. My Mom used to massage my tired toes every night and I cried from the cramping in my arches. I know this pain...I have felt it before. And I weighed a LOT less back then.

Then, Saturday was a big social night for us (after much anticipation and several failed tries for a date night). A neighbor was having a surprise party for her husband's 40th, and so we had the kids stay with the in-laws and planned to have a real grown-up night. Ok, the party was a blast. It was a Casino theme with all the games and trimmings and dealers at each table. There was free-flowing beer and wine. And I drank this wine as if it were water. Not a good idea.

The next day, I felt every bit of my almost 35 years. Guess what? I am not a college kid anymore. I know most of you in the land of reality have realized this about yourself by now, but it takes some of us with thick skulls a little longer. And, if you have not, then go out and try to live it up until 2 in the morning like you used to in your early 20s and see how YOU feel the next day.

Today, has been a day of recovery and rest (as much as you can get with two kids who have had little sleep and are wired from too much apple juice and ice cream at Grandma's). I'm vowing not to do that to myself again...at least not for awhile anyway! And the running...sigh...well it hasn't happened this week at all. I am going to run every day up until the practice and hope I can make it through those two miles without serious pain. If you don't see any blogs from me after next Wednesday, you'll know I didn't make it and they had to peel my cranky old bootie off of the track.

Analyzing the Archenemy

So, I've had a few glasses of wine and am mulling something over tonight while I don't get the rest that I need. That is, that I actually have someone in my life right now that I could call my archenemy. I know that sounds weird, but I haven't had a lot of adversaries in my life really. There are people who have annoyed me and pissed me off, and I am sure I have done the same to other people. But, that's not what I am getting at here. I mean, there is someone in my life now that I actually find enjoyment in tormenting or beating them out of things.

It is hard to admit when you realize this about yourself. You try to justify it really. Sure, this person did attempt to socially destroy my son and myself, and she lied and basically made our lives a living hell--FOR NO REASON (which still baffles me). But, this was several years ago. I no longer feel the extreme anger towards her. I don't even hate her. So, why the immaturity on my part?

Why do I relish the fact that (though she tries to hide it) she squirms when someone laughs at a joke I tell? I find it funny when she gets cut down or something she tries to do backfires. And, above all, I want to "out-do" her in everything for reasons of pure spite. And, I never ever show her when something bothers me. She will never see me upset about anything because I will never give her power to hurt me or my child again.

What does this say about me? (An aside--ironically I have just realized that I may have just described my sister's feelings toward me in a nutshell--based on some comments she's shared with me in recent years. But, that's for a different blog discussion.) Anyway, why would I have such extreme feelings toward someone that I don't hate, and don't really care to have her friendship anymore either.

I tend to really be repelled by the "button pushers" of the world. Drama queens are one thing, but people who like to cause drama to hurt someone else, or people who enjoy getting others all worked up for one reason or another, well they just really get me riled up. So, why then would I be this way with another human being and why can't I seem to get past it?

Tonight I am really wishing I could figure this out and move past it all. It's not worth my energy and I hate that I've become like this towards anyone. I want to blow things off, but can't seem to with this person.

Any thoughts blogger friends? Have you ever had someone like this in your life? How did you move past it?

Literary, Smiterary (A Personal Peeve)

You know something that I really can't stand in "bloggerville?" That is, people who are on some kind of an ego trip with their blogs and think that theirs is so much superior to others. You know the type---those who deem themselves as "real writers?" They chastise those of us who blog about our everyday lives, and seem to think their rantings online are anything different, just because they're not ranting about baby spit-up or their latest experience at work?

To those I say this, blogs are SUPPOSED to be online journals. If you don't like reading about someone's day-to-day life, then DON'T read their blog. No one asked you to! And, don't assume that the things YOU talk about are THAT much more important or significant, just because you use what you think is clever verbiage.

It is true that blogging is kind of ego-centric. I mean, the fact that we put our lives and stories online does show a tad of vanity, in assuming that someone else would find that interesting. But, for a lot of us, it is also an outlet. I grew up the child of an English teacher, with a ton of "literary" types in my family. I love to write. I was a Journalism major, who switched into the high tech world to make a dollar. Blogging has been so wonderful for me, and has gotten me back to my love of writing again. I do it for me first, and then for the amusement of friends and family and the occasional surprising compliment. And, if that my blogging consists listing off funny things my kids say or my most embarrassing moments, then so be it. Again, I say, you don't HAVE to read it!

There is nothing more of a turn-off to your blog readers than to chastise and berate the very people who are reading your words. The people who yesterday found you humorous, now might consider you arrogant and immature. And, you never know, amidst that dirty diaper story, you might learn a thing or two about life, humor, and about how writing about normal/everyday things can touch lives---much like many authors who have penned their memoirs have done. Now, that's something to think about, isn't it?

OK, I'm off the soapbox now. Have a good afternoon. Check back tonight or tomorow for a running report--my third workout with the team is tonight!

Top 10 Most Klutzy/Embarrassing Moments

My pal Lisa posted a list of her ten "klutziest" moments, and so I HAD to jump on this bandwagon since I have some real doozies. Mine are half klutz and half just pure stupidity and embarrassment. Here goes:

1. The "Old San Francisco Steak House" Slide. It was the 80s, I was on a state band trip. I had on the lovely white "flats" we all used to wear. The stairs were shag carpeted. I think I literally made a "whoooop" sound as I slipped, one foot flying out in front of me. I landed squarely on my "arse" and then proceeded to bump down the stairs, one-by-one...for two flights landing finally on the floor. At the bottom was the waiting area for the restaurant, which was packed. I heard gasps and "ohhs" as I went down. Even worse, a good guy friend of mine, Darron, just HAPPENED to be coming out the the men's' restroom right as I did this. (This guy LOVED to tease me.) He laughed so loudly and hardly that it qualified as a serious "guffaw" and several people from the upstairs dining area (in our group) peeked down the stairs to see what was so funny.

2. The "Right Between the Peepers" Popper. It was my senior year. It was the day before the big "All Sports' Banquet" where all the athletes get dressed up and are honored for various things by the coaching staff. Big night in our little town, as sports are the be-all/end-all there. I was practicing my three-baton routine (yes, I know I'm insane..read number 10 for an even more stupid thing I twirled with), when I had two batons spinning in each hand and looked up to time catching the third. Only, the third baton was not in the air, it was BLAM...right in between my eyes. For those who aren't baton twirling experts (giggle), it takes some serious force to do a three-baton routine. You are basically juggling and have to throw it very high and very hard. My nose swelled up between the eyes to the same width as at the end and I had two black eyes. Nickname resulting from incident: "Alice the Goon" (from Popeye), given by Darron (the same guffawing friend from #1)

3. The "You're Branded for Life" Accident. Another high school incident, my beloved curling iron broke in mid-curl, sending the outside handle piece flying off into, yes, my face. (Don't ask me how this happened!) Nickname resulting from incident: "Tomahawk" (it looked like Indian war paint!) given by another guy friend, Ricky.

4. The "Oh-My-Mommy" Incident. So, this isn't as embarrassing as there was just one witness, but it sure gave Lisa, Babs and Tam a chuckle when I told them about it! I went airborne again going down the stairs in our current house. I must have seriously been flying, because my son (then about 3 or 4) shouted, "Oh no! My MOMMY!" Very cute...very hard fall and very funny now that I look back on it.

5. The Diploma Debacle. I even embarrassed myself on my graduation day from high school. Walking across the stage to get my diploma in front of practically the entire town, I kept thinking to myself, "don't trip and fall, don't trip and fall, PLEASE don't trip and fall." I didn't trip and fall. My graduation gown sleeve got caught on a huge stack of diplomas on a table I had to pass to get to the diploma "issuer," and I almost pulled the entire stack off the table. I heard audience snickers. Those are the worst man...

6. The Damning of Amit Bhatinagle. This happened at ye old "N.I." I was used to typing in a "Bh" and hitting a key command to get Dipu's name to pop into my email address field. So, I had something I thought was funny to share (it was probably lame) and typed in the "Bh" only to find a listing for another "Bh" last name at NI. This annoyed me. Didn't this person know that Dipu was the only one allowed to have the "Bh" last name in my life, for the sheer sake of my own convenience? So, I chose Dipu's name and then chose the other guy's name too, so I could see how to spell it. (I still don't remember how, so I'm making up the ending on it for story purposes.) My email went something like this. "Damn that Amit Bhatinagle! How DARE he start working here! Doesn't he know that you are the only BH allowed at this place of employment! Damn him! Damn him TO HELL!"

And, yep, you guessed it...after seeing how to spell his name for my cutesy little email, I failed to delete it off of the address list before I hit send. I didn't even realize it until I got back a message from Dipu that said, "Uh, did you MEAN to include that guy on this message?" I had to email the guy back and apologize profusely, telling him no, i really didn't want him to go to hell. Thank GOODNESS, he worked in manufacturing and I never had to meet him!

7. The "Do-Your-Shoes-Match?" Mishap. I haven't shared this with many, because it is REALLY embarrassing and happened only a few years ago. I was helping with the arrangements on our first ever block party here in our neighborhood. I was stressed, meeting a lot of neighbors for the first time and trying to get some tables and supplies out there before everyone arrive. Everyone got there, and we all drank and ate and had a grand old time. It wasn't until I made a quick walk home to use the bathroom, when I looked down at my feet. I had put on two blue tennis shoes. Only, they weren't the SAME two blue tennis shoes...they were two DIFFERENT blue shoes! Not glaringly different, but it took one look to definitely tell they were not the same. And we were out in the summer sun. I just know I have been branded by this around this block forever now...

8. The Second "Branded-for-Life" Accident. There was a point in my life, where I told my future husband (at that time) that I was certain that when I died it would be in some sort of freak fire or burning incident. That's because I had a serious of strange mishaps involving fire or heated items. This one involved ironing some pants in college on a very small dorm-room ironing board on the floor. I kept ironing, the board wasn't there, my upper thigh was. It was a second-degree burn, I had a scar for many, many years, and my new boyfriend (now hubby) just LOVED to tease me about how in the world I could have IRONED my own leg!

9. The "If Your Pinky Spells L, You are the Big Loser" Story. This was on my other blog, but I'll copy it on here, for your enjoyment. It's recent, it's gross, and its a shining example that with age may come wisdom, but not dexterity!

10. The "Last Samurai" Slicer. This is another twirling disaster. I mentioned the three-baton thing, but this one was worse. Another thing I liked to twirl, as weird as this may sound, was knives. No, not steak knives you silly birds, but these twirling knives that have hooks on the end so you can swing them around by their wooden handles. They're massively heavy but aren't so sharp they'd chop off a limb (or you'd probably know me as old one-armed Steph right now). However, they are sharp enough to leave a mark on you that you won't soon forget.

How do I know? Well, at one of the last out-of-town football games my senior year, I was performing on the sidelines while the band played. My grandparents were there on a rare visit from Florida, braving these insanely cold temperatures all to see me perform. (This didn't happen often, and they were visibly miserable and bored, so I felt I needed to impress.) I pulled out the knives and started do to my thing. It was really, really cold this night and my hands felt like they'd fall off, but it actually felt better swinging large sharp metal objects versus having to catch spinning metal batons with my brittle/frozen hands. Only, during one big trick, where I swing around 4 knives from side to side, I clipped my head. I kept my "performance smile" on for the audience (this is akin to "jazz hands!"), trying to not wince in pain and hoping no one noticed it. Near the end of the song, the bell player who was down on the sidelines with us screamed out at the top of her lungs, "Oh my GOD, Stephanie, YOUR HEAD!" Well, I guess I clipped my head harder than I realized and with my adrenaline going, I just blocked it out. I had a huge red mark, but an even bigger goose-egg on my head by the end of that song. I mean, we're talking like on the silly cartoons where it sticks out a few inches! The band director rushed down to put ice on it. (Yes, ice and it's like freezing temperatures outside and I was in a skimpy twirling suit. Please!) I died of embarassment at this one.

Tell me blogger friends, have I forgotten one? Comment back if you have a good one that I've missed. And, please, enjoy the laugh at my sad expense! HA!

There is nothing worse...

There is really nothing worse than a sick baby in your arms. Natalie has some kind of bug and has thrown up everything she's eaten for the past day or so. She was just in my arms crying and crying and can't tell me what is wrong and I can't fix it.

As a parent, this is really like torture. Even though it is hard when Ryan is sick, he can at least tell me his throat is hurting or he aches all over or something. Natalie was just crying and started kind of getting choked up. I panicked thinking she had something in her throat. No, she was fine.

It is probably just a sore throat. But, she can't tell me and I can't read her mind. Does she need tylenol or cough medicine? Should I be doing something different? How long can she go without eating much (because she throws it all up) before I need to be seriously concerned? And why does this always seem to happen ON A FREAKING SUNDAY when the doctor's office is closed! ARGH!

To me, there is nothing worse than this...

Poo-pons?

It is official. I have NOW seen everything!

Living in the 'burbs as we do, we are inundated with solicitors and those annoying little door flyers that seem to just appear on your door at least once a day. Some of the guys who put these coupons/ads out get creative, taping business cards on your window or wrapping rubber bands around your door knob so you have to work to get it off. It gets very annoying to say the least.

Well, today there was a nice clear plastic bag with several ads in it, gently hung on my front door. I noticed a local restaurant we'd never tried, so I decided to look through it, rather than just tossing it without a glance.

So, there is this gold-colored ad that I noticed, because it has a picture of a cartoon dog in one corner and a picture of a shoe stepping in dog poop with the "do not" circle over it. The title of the flyer said, "Is dog poop a pain in the grass?"

Yes, after reading it, I have learned that for the low price of $10 a week, this company will actually come and PICK UP DOG POOP out of my yard! Not only that, but they will "rid your yard of all the waste and haul away the mess ourselves so it doesn't stink up YOUR trashcan." That's right, I have now gotten a "poo-pon" in the mail and, you know, I am SO tempted to call them up and use their service!

Seriously, I can't believe there are actually people who DO this for a living! The name of the company is funny too--"Mine Retrievers." I'm just wondering, do they collect all this dog poop and sell it to the mulch companies? What exactly do they do with it all? Can you imagine your significant other coming home and giving you a big hug and smooch after his/her long day of picking up other people's dog poop? Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww....

Ironically, right behind this ad, was a coupon for a really nasty-ass Chinese place we tried recently. It's called "Choonbai" cafe...but after eating there I'd renamed it to "Chewin' Bile" because that's about what it tasted like. Hmmm...notice a theme here? I wonder if I should be concerned...

Birds in Flight

If you follow my family-friendly blog, you'll see today is the anniversary of my Granna's death. One year ago today, I lost one of the people who has had the most impact on my life of anyone.

Only, I haven't been able to write about it. I haven't been able to even allow myself to think too long about it, or I end up in hysterics. Losing her is truly the biggest loss I've ever had to face in my life.

For years, Jimmy and I talked about how this would probably be the last holiday with Granna. She had health problems many years prior to her death. But, actually the past few years she had been doing OK. I won't get into the details, but a serious of health issues seemed to add up for her until it was just too much and we lost her.

A part of the poem I put on my other blog is on her headstone(slightly reworded) :
"I am the up-fling of birds in flight." (I don't have the actual words my Mom changed it to.)

This is so perfect to go on her grave. You see, my Granna loved bird-watching. She had several books and feeders in her backyard. She'd spot an interesting bird and then we'd all try to figure out what it was by the pictures in her books. Her backyard was big and wonderful and attracted all kinds of birds, including blue jays and cardinals. She kept her bird feeders full and left bowls of water out for the birds to bathe in and watched out her kitchen window for her friends.

And all of this makes me think about my awful bird incident earlier this month. I think maybe one reason it upset me so, is that I still associate birds with beauty and with her. For a moment, I was watching these birds circle around our house, and it was like a piece of heaven. It was something I would have sat and described to my Granna at her kitchen table late one night when we were visiting.

So, when the two came crashing into the window, scaring both Natalie and me, it was really upsetting. It was like something was crashing into the perfect scene I was sharing with Natalie...a scene I would have surely told my Granna about.

This year has been filled with many big ups and downs. Just one month before I had my precious little girl, I lost one of the most important people in my life. She is someone that I feel I most connected with and resembled in my family, even more than my parents at times. I would have SO loved for Granna to meet Natalie. I would have loved to have seen her obsess that Natalie wasn't "taking to her" and worry away about Natalie's diet and health the way she always did with Ryan.

My Granna was 86 when she died. Ryan was 5 when he lost his great-grandmother. But, he still mentions her today, and cries because he misses her. It is my greatest hope that he will remember her when he's older. And, one day I will write more on here about the impact she had on my life. But, for now, I'd just like to remember her and think of those beautiful circling birds on my front porch.

Closer to the Handbasket

There is something seriously wrong with me and I realized that quite clearly on the way home tonight.

There I was, coming home from my moms' group meeting on "Sequencing Back into the Workplace," in my little Maxima, a mother of two and someone who considers themself a Christian, and someone most think of as quite stable and normal, albeit even straight-laced...

...there I was with the radio up full blast, having the BEST of times listening to the Nine Inch Nails' classic, "Closer." You know, the song that shouts, "I wanna @#$! you like an animal!" The one that talks about horrible, horrible things...like desecrating on someone? And I was SMILING, SINGING ALL THE HORRIBLE WORDS ALONG!

But, that isn't the weirdest part. After that, I switched off the CD to radio, where Norah Jones's "Don't Know Why" was playing and I happily started singing that.

Does anyone see the strangeness in this? Halfway through Norah, I had this thought and started laughing to myself. I must really be a freakin' split personality or something. Is it safe for me to be home with my kids--having THAT much influence on their young and innocent minds?

And what's more frightening...the "animal" CD was my husband's. He has all the classics on there...Nine Inch Nails' greatest, Protegy, and Marilyn Manson. A regular treasure trove of the "dark side" of music. Sigh...I really feel sorry for our kids.

And, that confirms it...they have the handbasket ready to take us straight to hell...all we have to do is just jump on in...

Sale on Pearly Whites Down at “the Gap”

OK, so if you know me, you will know that I've been rather tooth-obsessed lately. With my 11-month-old's coming in and my almost 6-year-old's falling out, it has been the focus 'round these parts. Well, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and further annoy my blog readers with another tooth post.

For more than five years, I have wanted to get my teeth whitened. It isn't that I hate my teeth. They're straight, have few cavities, and have been pretty darn good choppers, functionally speaking. However, they have always been a point of sensitivity for me, dating back to my teen years.

Back then, I obsessed about the big gap between my front two teeth, which I proclaimed was as wide as David Letterman's. (Seriously, when I was a little kid, you could have fit a whole other tooth in there!) My Mother, trying to make me feel better, would tell me that leaders and great beauties of the world all have a gap between their teeth. Look at Lauren Hutton! How about Madonna? But, even the material girl comparison didn't make me feel better when the cutest-of-the-hunky-cute senior boys started teasing me my freshman year. Yes, it was cool to be noticed by the older boys, but to be teased about "the gap" was just mortifying--even if they were being more silly than cruel. (And, my Mom would reassuringly say, "You know they are flirting with you, Stephanie. They don't mean to hurt your feelings. They tease you because they like you." Sigh--uh, yeah, RIGHT, Mom. Well, either way it still bugged me a lot!

So, as I grew up, "the gap" did get a little smaller, but never closed completely. My senior year, I had forms made and got information on getting braces. But, when I saw the cost and how long it would take to get them off, I just couldn't justify it. How could I have my parents pay for something that expensive when "the gap" was my only dental problem? My bite was perfect and the only reason to do it would be for cosmetic purposes. I ended up deciding against it.

So, throughout college and my early adult years, I tried to accept "the gap." Make it my friend. And, I am happy to say that now, I live peacefully with the space between my two front teeth."The gap" teeth and I have an understanding. They don't get cavities or go "crooked" on me, and I live with the space. Lauren Hutton would be proud.

However, for the past ten years or so, my obsession has shifted from "the gap" to something else. (You knew this neurotic gal wouldn't just end the story with that didn't you?) That obsession is on the fact that my teeth resemble the color of kernel corn. This is no exaggeration. It is hereditary, like those damn childbirth stretch marks. Darn the luck!

But, worse than that, the corners and edges of certain teeth, are the pearliest of pearly white. This only further emphasizes how yellow the rest of my teeth are, and is a cruel reminder of their cornlike hue. It has gotten to the point that I have started to avoid getting my picture taken in certain colors, like yellow and cream, because of the "maize effect." If you don't believe this, witness Exhibit A:


Evidence of the "Maize Effect"

Ok, so long story longer--I had the whitening done. I had the ZOOM! technique they advertise on that disgusting-but-you-still watch show, Extreme Makeover. It's basically peroxide under a bright light for an hour. So, an hour later and several hundred poorer, I was a little unhappy with the results at first.

You see, it made the teeth whiter by five shades--everywhere. Yes, now the "snowy white peaks" on my teeth are absolute albino-esque white. True, the yellow places were lightened. But, they are not totally white, and the tips are VERY white. But, my smile is brighter. I can't decide if it was worth it. The dentist says it will even out more with time and more at-home bleaching.

When Jimmy saw it, he thought it really looked good. The jury is still out for me. So, I'm posting this after photo, which is brave considering how very unflattering it is! Compare it to the yellow teeth one. What do you think? Kernel corn? Or, has it graduated to the rankings of say, canned hominy?


Steph--Bad Picture, but Whiter Teeth!

Baby Steps are STILL Steps!

So, I did it. I went to the first meeting of my new running club! It was rainy and cold and it had rained all day. I had a massive headache, had just found out I was hosting my scrapbooking group at 10 in the morning (and the house wasn't clean), and I STILL WENT! That was BIG for me.

And, I did OK! I have to say, it was actually FUN! I know that sounds insane. I haven't seriously run since high school, for goodness sakes. And I have had two kids since then and am the most overweight and in the worst shape of my life. But, I didn't die tonight. And I came away feeling so happy and excited about this program! I must be doing the right thing if I can say that.

So, I'll share about the program. I showed up at this huge park down near the Galleria area of Houston, totally clueless about where to go. It was easy to see by the large crowd of people there. There were probably 150 or so people gathered for this club.

We heard some information and broke into our groups. This was what gave me the most anxiety. The registration form asked you to rate your level from a> never worked out and never ran before, b> worked out but never ran before, c>can run 1 mile, and d>can run 3 miles. Ok, there is a BIG gray area there between b and c if you asked me! But, I decided to push myself and put myself in c>miler group. I have run before, it has just been a looooong time. I thought I could probably run a mile, although I might barf up a lung afterward.

So, from the mile group, we then ran a little under a mile as a test to see if we'd be in the top group of milers or the bottom group. Each group will train slightly differently. I expected to be the bottom group. They told us to run comfortably, but not to the point of being out of breath. That's what I did. I had enough energy to kick it in a notch at the end and I didn't cough up that lung (not even close, actually.) And, surprisingly, I made it in the top group! (Well, I was in the very bottom of the top group, with 4-5 under me, but STILL!)

So, they gave us our workout plans, which have us running A LOT more than I'd expected. And, they told us if our shoes are more than 4-6 months old to go to a running shop and bite the bullet and pay about $85 for good/personally fit shoes to avoid injuries. And then, we were let go for the week.

I feel so optimistic and excited right now. I was terrified tonight of being in over my head or looking like a fool. What I found were people of all ages of all sizes and of all abilities. I met a number of people who are on their 3rd or 4th season of participating. All and all, it was very motivating.

So, while I'm not usually a boaster, I am going to give myself "props" for going tonight and pledge to try my best to follow the running schedule this week. I feel like I'm really going to learn some about myself through this whole experience. Honestly, I feel I'm on the edge of something really big in my life with this thing.

For an EVEN LONGER, more introspective look at running, click here. (Still working out the kinks on the site on this.)

Finding that Runners' High Again

I called my husband four times from our house to the enormous city park where I would start a new chapter in my life, joining a running club. It was raining, and had been all day, I had a tension headache (and had that all day too), and I was feeling rather nauseous from nerves. As I pulled into the parking lot next to the jogging trail, I saw an enormous crowd of people. Probably around 150 folks of all shapes and walks of life, all gathered around chatting. I parked, grabbed my keys and left all the other useless peripherals I’d packed in the car earlier in a fit of anxiety. Feeling the chill in the air and the slight drizzle of rain on my face, I quickly walked over to the pack.

People were randomly grouped up, some clustered in circles talking about the program, others were obviously with their friends, families or significant others. The group was diverse. There were elderly people, twenty-somethings, middle-aged women and men-- a full smorgasbord of spandex and jogging suits dotted the muddy field.

After chatting idly with several people around me, I deduced that many there had participated in the program before. But, there were about an equal number of wide-eyed, nervous types like myself who had never tried something like this. They were the ones asking all the questions, digging their cold hands in their pockets and looking around anxiously.

After hearing a pep talk, and a medical talk from a trainer about not killing ourselves on the program, the organizers divided us up by groups. My anxiety level skyrocketed as I nervously wondered if I had chosen the right group. Could I run a full mile? I wasn’t even sure. Since giving up long-distance running back in high school, I had not even tested myself. I’d stuck to group sports at first, and then moved into step aerobics and weights. Slowly, my fitness level had dropped, my weight had packed on, and my general feeling of wellness had slipped away to the point that most days I felt so exhausted when I arose, and then later in the afternoon during my big blood sugar drop, that I wondered what was wrong with me.

There had always been a part of me that wanted to get back to running. After two kids and the diagnosis of pre-diabetes, I was scared of this challenge. It wouldn’t be an easy one, considering my fitness level (or lack thereof) or my current weight. But, I was more terrified of NOT doing something than trying to step outside of my comfort zone. I could not sit idly by and watch myself deteriorate until I was on insulin and facing serious health issues for the rest of my life. Now was the time to do this—for my family, but most importantly for myself.

After splitting off into a group of people who said they could run a mile, we were told we were going to have a time trial. This would determine if we’d be in the “fitness” level of the group (for the top half of the race finishers) or the “endurance” half of the group (for the bottom half). I kind of laughed to myself at these names. Was “endurance” supposed to make you feel better about finishing in the bottom? Should that name give you thoughts of the old “Tortoise and the Hare” fable? Should you think, “slow and steady wins the race?”

For me, I’d prefer to be on the fitness team, but I was certain I would end up on the endurance one. There were several people in the group who had participated in the program for several years. Still, I vowed in my head to give it my best and follow their instructions for running at a good pace, but not so fast that you can’t catch your breath.

We lined up and I had a quick flashback to my track days in high school. Lining our toes along the chalked line on the old cinder track of my high school that was in dire need of resurfacing. I remember how I’d feel this rush of anxiety waiting for the gun to sound and as soon as it would go off, my heart would practically jump from my chest. I’d start with a burst round the first corner of the track, but by the straightaway I would remind myself to stride it out, still three laps to go. I think I got through the next two laps of my mile on adrenaline alone. The last lap was pure gut though, picking it up around the final lap and building to a dead sprint around the last curve and final 100 yards.

My track days weren’t something I thought of fondly at the time. Running was really hard. I never felt like I was outstanding at it, even though my letter jacket had both sleeves full of the gold patches signifying accomplishments in a sport. I wasn’t quick enough to be a sprinter, but didn’t love super long distances. I had flat feet and long legs, and an awkward form when sprinting. A friend of mine, Laurie, was a 4-time all-state runner who managed to later get accepted to WestPoint because of her talent. During cross-country season, our coach would drop us off with a laugh several miles out of town on an old country road and tell us he’d see us at the school. Laurie would run so far ahead of the team on these long runs that we could only see a slight dot of her in the distance.

I’m learning that a hard part of adulthood is looking back on things you regret from your youth. I was not a rebel and don’t look back on a party life that embarrasses me. But, I still wish I could go back and do it all over again with more self-confidence and motivation—especially when it came to sports. If I could go back to that old dusty road now, I would try to at least stay within sight of Laurie. Instead of holding back to joke and have fun with my teammates, rather than face their shun if I outdid them in our workouts, I’d challenge myself to see how fast I could go. Laurie ran alone. She didn’t seem to mind their jokes and being left out. She had more drive and self-motivation than anyone I had ever met. If I could go back again, I’d have pushed myself harder, like she did, just to see how far I might have gone.

As we started the time trial, I knew I had to get in the front of the pack, or I’d never have a shot. So, I pushed myself ahead with several people I knew I might not be able to stay with in the end. Avoiding the mud puddles that skirted the path, I passed jogger after jogger as quickly as I could, working my way up to the front. I caught myself huffing a little noticing I was breathing through my mouth. I remembered how we’d learned in school to always breathe in through your nostrils and out through your mouth, especially when it was cold. I stretched out my leg strides and tried to do that.

As I rounded the halfway point, I remember feeling sheer exhilaration. I really wasn’t that tired yet and I wasn’t even running this full steam! Moments later, I looked ahead and could see the finish line. This would be that last curve sprint I remembered from track. I picked up my pace and noticed several around me were doing the same. I did pass another person and happily stopped to pick up my “Popsicle stick,” which would determine if I’d made the top half or bottom half. Blue meant top, green was bottom.

I looked down nervous and saw that mine was blue. Triumphantly, I looked up to notice there were still a handful of blue sticks left being doled out to runners. I hadn’t even finished last in the top group!

Feeling just a tad out of breath, I took note of how strong I felt. I didn’t feel like a middle-aged stay-at-home mother of two who has let herself go. I felt like something I had not felt like in so many years—like an athlete. I had forgotten the feeling of pride I used to have, as I’d participate in my sports in school. The way I’d hold my head high, as we filed off the bus into an opposing team’s gym, ready to dawn our basketball jerseys and win a ballgame. I remember how wonderful it felt being a part of a team. And, how I’d feel after a really long run in from the country to our school—heart beating out of your chest and that wonderful rush of energy and life you felt as you caught your breath. And later experiencing that “runner’s high” you often hear about, that would last for hours after a long race. How could I have forgotten how wonderful it was?

As I walked to my car from the first practice of the program, I felt such a sense of accomplishment, something I had not felt in many years. If I could do this tonight, I could continue with this program. I could run that 5K at the end. And, most importantly, I could find my way back to being a runner and back to better health. It was not that far out of reach, as long as I believed in myself. And, as I drove away, I realized that is what had been missing from my life for so long—that self-esteem had slipped away from me somewhere along the way to adulthood. And, I knew now, that I was on the cusp of regaining that and learning more about myself than I had in a long time.

One Giant Leap for...uh, Stephkind?

I'm feeling gutsy, so I'm sharing this now. There's a 70 percent chance of rain tomorrow, so keep your fingers crossed that I get to participate in my first night of this...
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So, I'm typing this Sunday night, but won't post anything at least until Wednesday on it. Why? I don't want to jinx myself or put undue pressure by telling anyone (other than my hubby) about what I'm about to do.

I am tired of being in a really bad rut I have been in for almost a year now. I need to shake my life up and make major changes for my health. The diagnosis of Prediabetes has really scared me. I don't want to have diabetes---ever. I may not be able to avoid it forever, but I can do my best to try to--for myself and for my family.

I just signed up for a local running program for the next 10 weeks that ends in running a 5K! Every Wednesday night, I will join a team of 7 with 1-2 running coaches at a huge park in Houston and I will pound the pavement. Each session they also have a topic they teach you about, be it from picking the best running shoes, to diet, to staying motivated. Then, in the 9th week, you run a 5K race around this lake, which just so happens to be a few miles from my home.

So, I'm taking a big step. For some, this wouldn't be a big deal. I have one friend in Colorado who just ran a triathalon on a whim--with no training! But, I am 30-40 pounds overweight and out of shape. To me, this is a huge step. Making this commitment means everything.

When I read about this program today in the paper, I almost started crying. I have desperately needed to shake up my life and change bad habits. Anyway, it was as if the paper reached out and grabbed me this morning. I used to be a "runner." Literally, I could have labeled myself that way growing up. I was on the cross-country and track teams. But, by college I was so burned out I quit it altogether in favor of aerobics and co-ed intramural sports. But, in the back of my head I have always wanted to get back to it...but I've been too scared and too out-of-shape to even fathom that.

I am a firm believer that God shows you the way, in one manner or the other. I truly think this is the way. I went to a new church this morning before I'd read that paper, and I prayed for help with these problems I'm having. I prayed for strength and power to do the right thing for myself to get on the road to being fit and well again, both physically and mentally. And, then I came home and opened the paper to the page about this program. I think it was a calling...

Now, it is up to me, to answer that calling and do something I haven't done in a very long time. That's set a really difficult goal for my life and achieve it. I'm excited, terrified, and anxious all at the same time. I can't wait for Wednesday to be here, just so I can see what I've gotten myself into! At the same time, I'm terrified of failing because I don't think I can handle that mentally at this stage in my life. My ego needs a success story!

More updates later! If you get this post, it will mean I did go through with this and actually lived to blog about it!