Charge

Permission slips signed. One field trip.   

Distant destination: Orlando. Parental nerves frayed.

One new, fully charged cell phone.

Just what the anxious mother ordered

as Matthew goes on his own,

for the very, very first time.

So she doesn't go completely crazy,

letting her baby test his wings.

Find out more about Six Word Fridays at Melissa's blog!

Spring...

Break. Alone. Away.

Food. Wine. Snow.

Got a spring in your step?  Visit Melissa and find out more about Six Word Fridays!

Why not...

Do things on a whim.

Practice random acts of kindness today.

Run an extra mile, just because.

Smile at someone who needs it.

Give a compliment and mean it.

Be kind to someone who's rude.

Act silly, like your shoe size.

Indulge in something, just for you.

Unload an anxiety that cripples you.

Replace it with something joyful, empowering.

Drown a sorrow, float with hope.

Do what you would do if

today was your very last day.

It's not too late to change.

Why not start right this second?

Why not join us?  Visit Melissa and find out more about Six Word Fridays!

Jumping back in...

It has been a while since I was faithful to this blog. It seems that the pressures of motherhood, work and family responsibilities have swallowed up whatever energy, inspiration or ability to write these past few months. I have felt a constant struggle to force myself to sit and write, yet, what would be the point if what was out there was crap.

The last day of school was last Thursday. Life has not slowed down. But enough is enough. I have all but abandoned writing. And it's not fair.

But the writing isn't the only thing I abandoned.

Five years ago, I decided to face my greatest fear: learning to swim. My two older boys were learning how to swim. Andrew thought it was the most unfair thing in the whole world, especially since his mom didn't know how to swim. At 33 years old. With two kids. So the sass of my son made me get out of my comfort zone and learn. For a while. Until I got pregnant with Joshua and found my out.

My parents never thought my sister and I really needed to learn. Neither one of them were strong swimmers. For a short time, when I was about 3 or 4, my mother would let me go with an older neighbor to his neighbor's pool. I was terrified, but eventually, I looked forward to going. Until he got sick and eventually succumbed to lung cancer. My sister was the daredevil. When our next door neighbors finally had completed their pool, Angie got on the slide, and just began to swim. She was a fish.

When I had my boys, I was always fearful of them being in the water. Because deep down inside, I knew that if they were in distress, I would not be able to save them. They fought me on those swimming lessons. I stood my ground. They are excellent swimmers and now take lessons to improve their endurance and strokes.

Now, I am not learning to swim because my children need me to. Now, I am learning for me. Because it's about time. I am 38 years old. It's time to jump back in.

There are no more excuses.

I have run two half marathons in the last six months. I teach. I have dealt with a wide range of fail issues and caring for elderly family members. I have THREE boys, dagnamit. I can do this.

So yesterday, after dropping the older boys at their tennis lesson, I got back in the pool with an instructor. All decked out in my swimmer's cap (just because I'm doing this doesn't mean I have to have bad hair at the end of the summer), surrounded by toddlers learning to swim with another instructor.

Much like last time, there are two other ladies learning to swim with me. We smile at each other, encourage each other, talk about other challenges we have overcome in between learning how to breathe and kick underwater. There is a certain camaraderie in knowing that you are not alone.

Yesterday was not as hard as five years ago. My memory of almost drowning sixteen years ago seems far away, a lifetime ago. That scared girl cannot live within the body of this woman who has overcome so much.

Yesterday, I put my head under the water, and clenched my eyes, fumbling towards the surface to breathe, terrified as I opened my eyes as I surfaced, gasped, went back down.

Yesterday, as the instructor stood in the pool, coaxing what he knew I could do, I caught a glimpse of Joshua, standing near the pool, looking at me. As I looked at my son, I saw my husband. I was surprised, as I thought he would not be home until after the 30 minute lesson, in time to pick up Matt and Andrew from tennis 30 minutes later. He sat, watching me overcome my fear.

Yesterday, when I slid underwater, I opened my eyes and saw the clarity of the water. I turned my head, took in air, and stuck my head back under. I felt my body glide, arms rotating, legs kicking. When I reached the wall, I saw my son's smiling face and knew I was back.

Have you ever had a fear that seemed insurmountable? Were you able to overcome it? How do you cope with it?

Promises kept...

In spite of the remarkable odds,

they tenaciously overcame all the obstacles.

They let themselves be cheered on,

taught to succeed, groomed for greatness.

They learned, practiced. They whined, complained.

We celebrated small victories, smoothed bumps

that lined the long road ahead.

In the background, silent prayers whispered;

parents and teachers inviting triumph in.

Today, the news your teacher awaited

finally arrived. Congratulations received, knowledge confirmed;

to know how far you've come;

to know how far you'll go.

You promised to do your best.

I promised to bear witness all year

to growth: physical, emotional, spiritual, academic.

A promise worth keeping, working towards.

What are you keeping?  What have you kept?  What's worth keeping?  Check out Melissa at Making Things Up and find out about Six Word Fridays!

Migraines, caterers, deadlines = SUCKAGE

It has been chaotic in these parts for the past couple of weeks. My blog has been left to fend for itself, and all I have been able to manage has been stringing a few lines of six words to pretend that I am actually writing. But we all know the truth.

Last March, in the spirit of doing things on a whim (as much as any mother of three who works full time could do) I booked our family for a Disney Cruise. Although a bit apprehensive, my (very wise) husband figured it was easier to go with it than to fight me on it. The two younger boys birthdays would be celebrated with the world's most famous mouse, and this family of five would take their very first voyage on the sea (for three nights, anyways).

When I made these plans, I assumed several things. First, and foremost, I believed that our State Mandated test from hell would have been administered in March, as it has been since its inception.

I assumed that Andrew's First Holy Communion would be in late May, as his older brother's was two year's prior.

I believed I had another year before I would have to begin the renewal process for National Board Certification.

I also believed that it would be a relaxing trip.

Fast forward to the beginning of the year and the release of the State's testing schedule. Yeah, you guessed it. The test was scheduled for the Monday after we docked. As a bonus, we also had a short week the week we left, thereby cutting my instructional time as I crammed as much review as I could for my poor students.

When I received the schedules from the Church for the Communions this year, I was SHOCKED that Andrew's would be scheduled for the Saturday of the week that we returned. A mere 6 DAYS after we returned. During a testing week. In which two thirds of my offspring would be required to partake of.

But better yet, the first year I was eligible to renew was this year. And the box is due to San Antonio in a mere 10 days.

A sign of the Apocalypse. And very poor planning.

Maybe I am not cut out to be spontaneous.

But I digress.

The week leading up to the trip was hectic, at the very least. There were orthodontist appointments, birthdays, packing, reviewing, writing and MAJOR picking up and preparing for the party after the Communion, 'cause really, who goes on a trip the week before a major religious sacrament.

After marathon packing into the wee hours of the morning, we departed. The weather was perfect. The food was delectable. And for the three nights I was on that ship, I didn't think about all that I had left behind.

I was reminded as soon as we arrived and got to our car, only to discover that the battery was dead. Some nincompoop (me) left an interior light on the whole time we were gone. Or rather, until the car's battery went dead. After a good 45 minutes and endless attempts of getting jumper cables that were functional, we were on our way home. Clearly, God had other plans than for me to spend Monday morning explaining to my principal why I was still 2 hours north of my school.

The week of testing was endless and harrowing. The children managed not to throw up or have nervous breakdowns in school. There were endless appointments that some nincompoop (me) had scheduled for dentists and such. Oh, yeah, I forgot. The Communion was supposed to be in MAY!!

Our Church decided that the children who were to receive the Sacrament on Saturday needed a lengthy (as in almost 3 hours) rehearsal after religious class, on the night before even MORE testing. Andrew and I had dinner at 8:30 p.m., after they locked the gates to where our car was parked.

Finally, testing finished. The week finished and it was the night before. My late period decided to make an appearance the night before the Communion. John and I shoved stuff in boxes to store in the garage, went out for a last round of stuff we needed for the party, set up tables, chairs and floral arrangements. I prepared platters of food and left them in my neighbor's refrigerator. I ironed (as I muttered silently to myself) the after the ceremony clothes, showered, shaved and blow-dried my hair. I went to bed at 1:30 a.m.

I rose at 6 a.m., fixed the salad, put on my dress (it fit!) and headed to weigh in for Weight Watchers. I did a little gig as there was no change in weight (yippee!!) and headed to the local grocery store to pick up the cake and the mother lode of food for the party.

Here is where we ran into a problem.

The deli department had NO RECORD OF MY ORDER! I had to be at church with dressed children and looking like a person by 9 a.m. At 7:15 a.m., I wanted to cry. And swear. And curse. Except I had gone to confession the night before. I didn't want to blacken my soul before at least 12 hours had passed, you know?

I handled myself with as much grace as I could muster. The deli manager promised to have my platters ready within an hour. I had her draw up a much reduced bill for my inconvenience, paid said bill, and left to put my face on and dress some boys.

John went to pick up the food when they called. I hurried to dress children and make sure lipstick was somewhere in the near vicinity of my lips. As I was heading out the door to get to the church on time, John came back, one platter short.

It was hard, folks. Keeping it together. Not letting my raging hormones just take control and let myself become a sobbing, wet, hot mess. I drove to Church. I left Andrew with his group. I got a knot in my throat seeing my little boy looking so big.

And then, I remembered I hadn't had breakfast. And my migraine began.

I survived the ceremony, in spite of Joshua acting like he was crazy. The food crisis was averted and we got our money back for our trouble. Everyone had a great time. Andrew had a glorious day. It was worth all the craziness to see him smile as he came into the Church, gleaming in his white hand-me-down suit.

But my migraine was bad. I fell at home. With a house full of guests.

I couldn't eat later that night because I hadn't taken my prescription before the migraine got out of control.

I went to bed with bruised knees and a nagging question of where it all went wrong.

But next time, you'd better believe that I won't be so quick to fly by the seat of my pants. Calendars will be consulted. Arrangements will be made. Care will be taken.

I mean, it's simple math. Migraines+deadlines= MAJOR SUCKAGE.

April 30 and a FedEx confirmation cannot come soon enough!

When it's a go...

Red light: gather your thoughts, prepare.

Yellow light: a pause to breathe.

Green light: go forth, obstacle free.

Set your compass, plan your way,

map in hand, dreams unfolding; everyday.

When you know it's a go,

put your best foot forward, ready.

Let yourself be, challenged, marvelously, uniquely.

Let yourself be, always ready, willing.

Do not wait. Ready? Set. Go!

Ready to give it a go?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up and try out Six Word Fridays!

'Cause I can...

On Sunday, I was a Princess. A Princess who awoke at 3:00 am, donned her hot pink, glittery headband, a pink tutu, and a killer pair of compression sleeves.

On Sunday, I participated in my second half marathon, ever. Just a month shy of my first.

If I was excited about the first one, I was more than a little nervous about this one. I was worried I would oversleep like I had for the few runs we had done in the last two weeks. I fretted over the weather. I worried about the lack of training because of my neighbor's injury after the marathon last month. I wondered how my husband would handle the three kids without me and venture in the Spectator sections with countless other husbands and children at Epcot.

I worried for nothing.

My neighbor and I did not oversleep. We made it to the buses in plenty of time. I met up with Liz, from ...but then I had kids, who also happens to be my son's teacher. I cannot tell you how happy I was to see at least two familiar faces in that multitude of estrogen.

The day was warm. The weather was perfect. My husband fared well, as he is now a seasoned expert at maneuvering large crowds with small children. My lack of training was a non-issue, since I virtually made my same time in spite of posing with Disney characters and NUMEROUS potty breaks... (I won't even tell you how un-Princess like it was to go potty in a portable toilet with a tutu...)

And I had a marvelous time. For a little while, I was Princess Maria. I was living the fairy tale I wish I would have had the courage to attempt to live 15 years ago. Or even ten years ago. But I am definitely living it now.

There was no overwhelming urge to vomit when I crossed the finish line this time. As I looked around at the cheering crowd, knowing that my guys were somewhere out there in that sea of people, I was filled with awe that I had come this far. That I was still standing. That I was still running.

This time, when I crossed the finish line, there was pride. There was joy. There were tears.

And yes, I ran in that tutu for 13.1 miles. And I felt every bit a princess. Even if it was for one day.

Well: I am getting there

For years, I lied to myself
believing that acting well enough was

surely as good as being well.

But acting is not good enough.

Now, being well is better; necessary.
Much like a well, I have
gone deep to find the good
that was always within me; unfulfilled.
That change has come about with

sacrifice, heartache; for me, for us.
When I am with you, love,
my heart is a bottomless well
of passion, of gratitude, of abandon.
Because of in spite of me,
with you, I'm better than well.
With you, I can be me; authentically.

Are you well?  Want to tell how?  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up and join in Six Words Fridays!

Novel

There are days I catch myself

wondering if there are enough words,

enough thoughts, enough determination and discipline.

There are days when I wonder

if there is a novel lurking

deep within my mind and heart;

if I have enough courage, talent

to actually sit down, write it.

My thoughts get too far off.

I am brought back to reality

by the melodious, mischievous, boyish laughter

of my three works in progress,

and I stand in awe that

I have co-authored these first chapters

of what is sure to be

the three amazing life stories of

my three, most beloved, inspiring sons.

Want to share?  Catch Melissa at Making Things Up and the Six Word Friday challenge!

Crossing the finish line...

My first half marathon medal!  I DID IT!

Six months of training. Six months of fundraising. Six months of pushing myself in ways I never dreamed possible.

Countless good wishes, cards and a music mix for good measure, to encourage me, to propel me to cross that line.

Sunday was race day. The ninth annual ING Miami Marathon.

I was nervous. I was excited. I was missing some pretty important people.

My mother in law was scheduled for her second to last chemotherapy Monday morning. My father in law was trying to figure out a way to get down the hours it would take to see me cross the finish line. I put my foot down.

My sister was going to bring my nieces at the crack of dawn, in that multitude of people, to see me cross the finish line. I put my foot down.

My brother and sister in law, so far away in distance, so close in my heart. Their card a few days before moved me to tears. Such powerful words written on such an innocent looking card.

I carried them all in my heart instead.

The night before, as my family and I sat amid over 200 other Team In Training runners, I looked over to my husband. The face that has mirrored my own happiness and sorrow for the last twenty years had eyes filled with tears, bottom lip trembling. When I whispered to him, asking him if he was okay, he held me close. His voice breaking with emotion, he said, "I am so proud of you."

I looked over to my sons as they sat with us. The faces reflected back my own excitement. Their smiles, lighting my way.

It was a restless night. Motherhood does not take a day off just because of a 13.1 mile race. I tossed and turned, worrying I would oversleep and miss the gun. But I would only oversleep if ever got to sleep, though.

In the still darkness of Sunday morning, my alarm went off. I rose, weary. I glanced at the sleeping men in my life, and knew that I could do it.

As I got ready at 4:00 am, I wrote my family an email. In part, it read:

Standing front of the mirror this morning, I do not recognize the woman staring back at me. She is dressed like an athlete. She is ready to undertake the most physically challenging event she could dream of. Yet there she is, and looking back at the last 6 months or so, I know that I could not have done this without any of you.

I did not recognize the face I saw. The face was confident, strong, athletically determined. The face showed none of the fear I felt within my own heart. The face showed preparation, an air of calm, and anticipation that I dared not feel.

Yet, it was my own face. My own eyes that would see the glorious sun come up on the MacArthur Causeway at 7:00 am. It was my face glistening in the heat of this beautiful morning, as my legs carried me, fueled by months of training, adrenaline, joy.

It was me.

During the race, my neighbor and I ran side by side. Much like the past six months, we were able to motivate and carry each other for 13.1 miles.

Throughout the race, there were hundreds of spectators, armed with beach chairs and homemade signs, cheering the brave souls that ran, walked, or hobbled by them. Countless, smiling faces, urging you to go, to run, to do better.

Seeing the kids at mile 11...

At mile 11, I saw my boys. John had gotten on the People Mover, and decided that he would be able to meet there and still have enough time to make it back to the finish line. How to describe the feeling when I saw my boys? When I saw my greatest cheerleader? I was afraid the emotions of the day would bubble to the surface, bringing me to my knees with over two miles to go...

The end came slowly. It seemed that every turn would bring the finish line. The split where the full marathoners came. For an instant, I thought of what that would be like. To complete 26.2 miles. I stayed on my own half marathon track.  I am not ready.  YET.

Racing towards the end...

The drum lines kept urging me on, with each beat pushing me a step or two closer to the finish.

I felt strong. I felt invincible.

And then, the cloud of orange and blue balloons, intertwined to create the arch I would run under. With a sudden rush, I felt myself run faster, harder, than I ever had in my life. I was there. I CROSSED THAT finish line RUNNING!


View of the finish line from our hotel room...

All the emotions I thought I was going  to feel never materialized. Instead, I felt like vomiting. I don't know if it was the strenuous exercise that I had just put my body through, the surprising heat that made its appearance halfway through the run or the fact that I REALLY needed fluids, but the tears I was sure I would have weren't there.

I received my medal. As I gazed at it, I thought of the past six months. I thought of the past 37 years. Of keeping myself within these self imposed boundaries. Of wanting more, of being afraid of trying things that scared me. And I thought to myself, from now on, that finish line means the beginning of being a tad bit fearless.

I called John to let him know I had finished. He told me the boys had seen my whiz by at the end.  We made plans to meet up. I called my neighbor, Sande who was just behind me, waited for her. We hugged each other, knowing we had done it together.

I searched for my family. When I finally found myself in my husband's arms, I felt the tears come. Tears of joy, of relief, of disbelief. Had I really done this? Was I really standing here, among all these people, celebrating this accomplishment?

Yes, I was.

And they were here with me, sharing every incredible second.

Even the ones I carried within my heart to cross the finish line...

There is no turning back.  I am changed in ways that I cannot put into words.  I am grateful to have been able to something for others, that helped me do something for myself.

Anticipation

Crossing the finish line...
Turkey Trot, Thanksgiving Day 2010

About six months ago, with a mere suggestion and an urge to do something different, I decided to start training for a half marathon. I have never been athletic in my entire life. I thought I could help out a worthy cause and challenge myself out of the tightly drawn box I had created around myself.

Little did I know what these six months would bring.

And how that decision would truly challenge me in ways yet unknown.

I did not know the strength I held within myself. I did not know that I could train my body to raise at un-Godly hours, in equally un-Godly temperatures (no eye-rolling Mid-Westerners and North Easterners. 40 degrees is COLD in Florida!)

But now, the half marathon is a mere six days away. I am nervous. I am excited.

I am changed.

I set out to do something I thought was impossible six months ago. The thought of raising over $1700 was terrifying. The notion that I could make my legs run for 13.1 miles was inconceivable.

Yet, here we are. Nearing the end of one goal, embarking on the start of other ones.

One half marathon in six days. A 5k in two weeks. Another half marathon four weeks from now. And plans for yet another half marathon before the end of the year.

Yet another piece falls in place in this puzzle that is my life.

Had I not had this all encompassing task, I surely would have handled my dear mother in law's cancer with a bit less humor and a whole lot of anxiety. At least for me, nothing makes me feel better and change my perspective than keeping busy, preferably with something such as this, that makes me oh-so uncomfortable, AND helps others.

So dear readers, I am in the final countdown. I am mentally preparing packing lists, have decorated my team shirt and am constantly encouraged by three little guys who totally rock my world. Those three little guys who make me want to work harder at being the person they think I am.

Slowly but surely, I am getting there.

Hopefully, I will cross that finish line Sunday morning without dissolving into tears, with a time that I can be proud of. And then, I can take the next step, into the next chapter, knowing that I can do just about anything.

Insecurity Blanket

If you met me in my element, it would be hard to notice the wondrously heavy blanket I have been carrying around since childhood. As I have gotten older, I have gotten better at hiding the rather monstrous problem I have with insecurities, but they have gotten much harder to accept as a daily occurrence.

Regardless of the hours spent on the therapist's couch and the small fortune that could have been devoted to fabulous shoes, there are still events that send me into a tailspin of anxiety. I often wonder if people can see through this. I wonder if I have become such a good actress that only my husband and sister can see through the veneer of a smile and hasty chuckle to realize that on the inside, my heart is thumping out of control and I am literally drowning in my own sweat.

For years, I hid behind my strict upbringing. Now that I have children, I hide behind motherhood. But I often wonder what I would be like if I just let that blanket go. And in some ways, I am. In small steps, I have started to try new things, take up new interests. I am putting myself out there. Like a newborn colt, I am testing out my legs.

For the most part, the insecurity panic attacks have subsided. But every once in a while, I wonder. What do people really think of me? Why is it that I can see the best in everyone, but fail to recognize it when I look in the mirror? Why can't I shut up the voice inside my head that tells me I am not good enough, once and for all?

I wonder when the version of me everyone sees will become who I am, inside and out.

When will this Linus finally outgrow that infamous blanket?

Resolved to making each day count

Determined that 365 days in 2011

have hope, faith, tenacity and joy.

Keep my body strong and fit.

Tend the garden of my soul

with love and devotion, each day.

But most importantly, to live lovingly.

What to know more about Six Word Fridays?  Check out Melissa at Making Things Up.

A handstand, in spite of the crud....

It's official. I can now say with certainty that I am sick. I have been in denial for weeks, making excuses for the scratchy throat, the itchy nose, the watery eyes. But yesterday, I could no longer ignore the aches and pains. I had an earache.

On Halloween night.

Right before trick or treating.

I would have been perfectly content with staying home, curled up in bed, watching some sappy movie (I watched My Sister's Keeper yesterday afternoon; a sure sign of impending sickness...). But, alas, I have children. Boys who love to dress up on Halloween, and beg for candy that they don't eat, but will inevitably make my ass larger than it needs to be.

I downed two aspirin and went trick or treating with Buzz Lightyear, and two Harry Potters.

The only treat I wanted was my bed and Nyquil. Not necessarily in that order.

I survived. I came home. My husband took one look at my pathetic carcass and commanded me to get a shower and go to bed.

Since he rarely commands me to do anything, I did just that and collapsed until this morning.

Flash forward to this morning. Body still aching, but not quite as bad, I decided to go to work. It was a Teacher's Planning Day. John suggested I stay home.

My husband doesn't understand the finer points of teaching. You NEVER take a day off on a Teacher Planning Day.

I went to work. I went to yoga. I did my first ever, assisted, hand stand.

Me. The girl who could not roll on a mat in elementary school because I would get dizzy.

Me. The girl that can run nine miles in under two hours.

And I can't wait to do it again.

By the way, I feel so crappy that I actually went to one of those clinics within the Pharmacy. And while they swabbed and tested, I do not have anything that antibiotics can cure.

Just plenty of fluids, a decongestant, aspirin every six to eight hours and rest.

The yoga class and an assisted handstand count, right?

10 miles of me, my thoughts...and my legs running

As many of you who follow this blog know, I am training for a half marathon in late January.

For many of you who know me personally, you must know that Armageddon must be coming upon us rather quickly.

Because I am not an athletic person.

And because up until August of this year, only bodily fluids exploding out of my children's beings (or blood curdling screams), got my ass up and running in record speed.

But my neighbor, who is always full of ideas, decided that this would be a great challenge for us to undertake.

Fortunately, we are not training without serious help. We are raising money for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and their affiliate Team In Training, which take a slug like me and makes them marathon ready.

How ready, you ask?

Ten miles in a little over two hours this past Saturday ready.

Yes. Ten miles. 135 minutes. This Saturday. And I am still upright.

At first, I thought my biggest challenge would be raising the $1700 for Leukemia and Lymphoma research. But, as of last month, not only had I reached my goal, I surpassed it.

Then came the REALLY early in the morning runs. We're talking 4:30 am people. And yet, I found that not only can I get up at that time, but I can actually run, if given the appropriate soundtrack, AND feel good for the rest of the day.

And even more surprising? When I don't get up at un-Godly hours to run a ridiculous distance, I feel TERRIBLE. I feel guilty for sleeping until the "late" 6:45 a.m. time.

But what I am enjoying the most on the mornings I run (O.K., besides bragging rights to my thoroughly impressed third graders) is the time to think, by myself, for a good hour.

Because even though a huge range of musical genres are blaring through my wireless headphones, my mind is still. I don't have a thousand jumbled messages getting crossed in transmission. Thoughts are not getting pushed aside by the day's impeding agenda.

It is impossible not to clear your mind when you run. Granted, I didn't run straight through for ten miles on Saturday. I did intervals of two minute, fast paced walks and one and a half minute runs. But when you are exerting that kind of force, you must focus on breathing, on moving one leg in front of the other, rapidly.

And with each breath, each foot in front of the other, I pushed myself to do something I never thought I could do. As I neared the final intersection before reaching our ending point, the smile on my face was huge. I knew I could do anything.

In January, I will run the ING Miami Half Marathon. I will have raised the most money I have ever raised; by myself. I will run for two and a half hours; I will cross that finish line. I will have time to think about the magnitude of what I am doing, and who I am doing it for. I will have done something solely for the good of others.

In February, I will run the Disney Princess Half Marathon. This will be just for me. I will run for two and a half hours; I will cross that finish line. I will have time to think about the magnitude of what I am doing, and who I am doing it for.

I will know that I am strong in body, not just spirit.

And I will have done something solely good for me.

This will be JUST for ME.

Holding on, letting go

Much of life is learning when to hold on, learning when to let go. For some of us, that lesson is especially hard, particularly when it comes to family. All too often, we end up holding on to the stuff we should be letting go, and letting go of the stuff that truly matters.

When it comes to parenting, it is much easier to hold on than to let go.

Joshua is coming into his own. No more potty accidents, he can wipe his own ass, and after a major back pack packing boot camp last night, he was able to pack up his nap items by himself. For the last few mornings, Joshua has been a fountain of love. Hugging, kissing, flashing those sweet eyes and chirping in his sweet toddler voice. The letting go has been a challenge, to say the least.

I am happy that he is becoming more self sufficient. But I am a little sad too.

Because my babies are growing up. And as they depend less on me, I find myself wondering how my role as a mother is changing. Don't misunderstand. As much as I loved that newborn stage, where they snuggled and nursed, it was EXHAUSTING. Three times over. And the stages that came after that were no easier. It was hard physical labor, constantly second guessing yourself, never knowing if what you were doing was right or wrong. Wondering when this tiny person would be able to tell you when they felt bad, what hurt, if what you are doing is helping at all.

Tough days. Rewards in gas induced smiles, outstretched, fat arms reaching for you. Sloppy kisses and cooing.

And life goes on. Sloppy kisses make way to grunts of recognition, excited tales of adventures at school. Hand holding at the grocery store parking lot. You take what you can get.

As your children get older, the challenges come in different forms, and you struggle with the decisions you make. Your brain knows the decision is a right one, your heart has a hard time believing it.

Just recently, John and I decided it would be good for Matthew to join a Tween Group at the church where Joshua goes to school. It meant a big deal to me that he try it because he would be able to reconnect with some preschool friends that attend different elementary schools. It meant that he would get to experience different experiences without us. And that was particularly hard for me. Because we have always done things together. Because I never had the opportunity as a child and always wished I had.

But more than that, I am able to see that my older son has a life apart from us. Not in a huge way yet. But it is starting to take shape. And as a parent, that is frightening. It means letting go of your child (to a certain extent) and hoping like hell that the lessons you have been teaching have sunken in, grown roots, been learned.

Yet, we still hold on. To mementos; tiny baby clothes, shaky, uneven happy faces and preschool watercolor masterpieces that help us remember and hold close the babies we once carried, fed, cuddled, and have left us to preschool, elementary school, Tween groups.

So much change. So little time. So many more to come.

For the record, Matthew had an awesome time. I think he really enjoyed doing something outside of the "circle" with kids his own age. I think it made him feel more "grown-up" to have different plans than those of his other brothers. Andrew really enjoyed being the "oldest" while Matthew was gone. He had a great time with Joshua, not having to battle for attention from him. Joshua loved having the attention of just one brother, versus the fight of two over him.

And John and I? We were a little lost, but thinking about the days when there were two instead of three. And then three. And how difficult it was, for a while. And how things seem to be calming down a bit. And how, in spite of all the ass wiping and group activities and new challenges, we miss those days of sweet baby smell and tiny fingers and toes.

And we reevaluate.

We adjust to the new role of parenting that requires less hard physical labor, but more attention to detail and wit.

You go from diaper bags to thinking about handing over a cell phone so that you can keep tabs (Hey, no judgment out there, ok? I am just THINKING about it!).

And the paradigm shifts yet again. You feel unsettled as you charter through new territory and learn to test out your sea legs. You muddle through and pray you are on the right course.

You hold on. And somehow, you never forget how it felt to want to be understood. You remember how it felt when you got to do things on your "own."

And when you see that same expression of surprise and confidence in your own child when you let go a little, you know that you are on the right track.

You let go.

Run, Maria, Run...

I just got back from my first day of training. Sande, my neighbor, and I were on our way at 6:15 am. Our Weston team was meeting near the Weston Town Center. Our coaches and mentors had the station really decorated and full of all kinds of goodies for before and after the race.

I have to admit that I was a little overwhelmed with the challenge I am embarking on. I think the reality hit me as I was signing in, getting my picture taken by the team banner and putting on my name tag.

Even at 7:00 am, the humidity was unbearable. Our head coach, Samantha, introduced all the mentors, coaches, and captains. After that, she had us break out into our groups and we introduced ourselves. I decided to go with the walking group for now, but will definitely be pushing myself throughout training to do more running than walking come Marathon Day.

We warmed up and we were off. I learned several things during our short course today. One, I will be bringing my water bottle holder next week. Second, I need to get a pacing watch that can be set to notify you of when you can switch from walking to running. I was not too far off from the middle of the pack and was especially happy that I was not with the slowest of the walkers. I did manage to run in short spurts towards the end of our thirty minute session.

Afterwards, our coaches had ice cold water cloths for us. I cannot tell you how good those felt. The actual exercise was not bad, as I can handle an hour long spinning or shadowboxing class. The problem was the heat and humidity! The best part was the stretching afterwards...it felt SO GOOD!

We also had a short informational session regarding the type of equipment we should be looking for. I was glad to have had my brand new running shoes with really great support for my ankles. I didn't even feel the two miles today!

Afterwards, Sande and I headed to Jamba Juice for a treat. We met a lady who did the marathon with Team in Training a couple of years ago. Her six year old son has leukemia and has been battling it for the last three years. I don't think it was a coincidence that we met her today. It really helps to put a face to the people we are trying to help.

I will write more after next week's training. During the week, I will be alternating between cross training, like spinning, and working with the treadmill to get my endurance up. I am so ready for this challenge, and I am so grateful for those cheering me on!

Unplugged

So much to do, so little time to do it!

Washing, folding, packing, repacking, piling stuff in the car.

National Lampoon's got nothing on us.

The guys and I will be on the road for a much need vacation this week. We are visiting the nation's capital, the national museums and then heading for the mountains for a few days to reconnect with our beloved Aunt Susan and Uncle Billy.

So, I will be unplugged: taking in the marvel of Washington, D.C. and the majesty of the mountains of North Carolina.

I promise to post pictures and commentary about our adventures on the road!

See you all in August!

!!!-Intentional Happiness for the week of July 16, 2010

After a whirlwind of cleaning up and organizing, I am as done as I can be. Every major closet is organized, months of bill statements have finally been organized, kitchen is in tip top shape, even the garage is cleaned up and organized. That is some serious !!!

But bigger than that is what the organizing and purging has done for my soul. For the last couple of years, my summers have been consumed by the needs of others, leaving little time for my own needs, let alone wants.

Three summers ago, I had a newborn. Although we did some traveling with our newly expanded family of three, caring for three small kids left me drained of any energy to tackle things such as closets and unfiled bills. I was barely surviving.

Two summers ago, my sister had a newborn. And was pregnant. So we tackled everything that needed tackling, together, with four kids.

Last summer, my mother's failing health forced whatever plans I had to the back burner. My sister now had two babies, 13 months apart. Together, with our now five children, we put my mother's affairs in order, and set on unchartered territory: caring for an elderly parent with a degenerative condition.

This summer, I reclaimed my freedom. In the midst of all that cleaning and organizing, I seemed to remember and find my way back to who I used to be and who I am trying to become.

And so this week, the French celebrated Bastille Day, commemorating the beginning of the French Revolution that eventually dismantled the Monarchy.

Twenty one years ago, on Bastille Day, a sixteen year old Cuban girl FINALLY got her driver's license. And with it, she opened a whole new world for herself. Major !!!

And now, twenty one years later, I am learning to fly by the seat of my pants, charter into new territories and relearn how to have fun. Case in point, a day trip to Sanibel Island to see my husband's aunt and uncle from Atlanta and their grown children and young grandchildren. Totally spur of the moment, total !!! to see the next generation of cousins play and have fun! Plus beach time is always worthy of !!!

Continued success with the potty training!!! A clean AC condensation line thanks to my wonderful main man!!! A sisters only movie night to see Eclipse!!! No children with us at the movie theater and swooning over Jacob's abs; double !!!

That being said, sometimes the greatest !!! comes from standing outside our comfort zone, confronting our fears and looking them dead in the eye and realizing that they hold no longer hold power over you.

Sometimes, those lessons take a very long time to be learned and understood. But once they are learned, they are your license to happiness...