jimmy dean

i have always had sausage fingers. regardless of weight or size, my fingers have always resembled a nice collection of 10 sausage links in varying lengths. in hawaii, after an evening of grilling out with great friends and probably a few great drinks, one of my friends found out that my middle name (prior to me getting hitched and making my maiden name part of the deal) was for the vast majority of my life 'dean'. as in katherine dean. as in katie dean. as in of course (how the hell could i have missed the obvious correlation my entire life) katie dean sausage. fingers that is. trust me when i tell you that in order for you to get the heelariousness of this night, you did have to be there preferably with a slight buzz and a front row seat to frank (the friend) giving out his best katie dean sausage fingers commercials. they were funny. i laughed. i still laugh every time i think of it. what made it funny was a combination of many things, but what made it super funny to me was that it was just my fingers. wouldnt have been so funny if it had been 'katie dean sausage body'.

which leads me to my recent journey through the trenches of hell known as swimsuit shopping. two things i know i should have done more of before having kids (which incidentally i didnt figure out until after having them. (thats fairly typical of my luck and judgment) 1. sky diving (once was not enough) and 2. bikini wearing. yes, i wore them. a lot. always under the constant self loathing that bookended my bikini esteem from ages 14 to 28. i see pictures now of those days that had me hating my body and am saving them for my plastic surgeon for what i want my after pictures to look like. i would no more put on a bikini today than attempt to do math in public. im not putting my kids through it (seriously, your kids do not want their mom rocking a bikini) and im really not willing to put myself through it. but alas, who really loves their body in a bikini and more importantly who wants to be around someone who does? ill take self deprecating friend time on the beach any day over 'happy to be in my body' banter. like thats fun.

anywho, i decided it was time to add to my swimwear wardrobe this spring. when i originally ventured out in february, i put on a suit and immediately thought, 'okay, this is way too soon. clearly im still winterized', must wait until spring. but we all know that the early bird gets the worm or in my case, the reluctant winterized shopper will at least get sizes other than 2 and 16 to choose from. part of my problem (which i assure you is vast) is i have not committed a day in advance to this endeavor. its always grabbing a few minutes of time to try something on and then realizing it doesnt work. if i had a day in mind, i could at least go tanning (spray on, mom, i promise) and of course a 24 hour fast wouldnt hurt either, but these few minutes here and there with kids with me is not conducive to swimsuit shopping success. take last week for example when i had jack with me at an unnamed store. i grabbed a few options that involved mini swim skirts (the lamest attempt ever to make a 'mom' suit sexy) and halter tops. i also grabbed a box of yogurt covered raisins to keep jack happy. while stripping down to swimsuit attire, i noticed jack was now eating the raisins off the floor. thats dirty. and awesome because i would need to make a large deposit to his future therapy fund if he were actually paying attention to his half naked crazy mother frantically tugging and tying and turning around. which i should not have done. things werent awesome from the front, but really, a 3 way mirror in a dressing room?? shouldnt those only be in the common dressing area, as in youd have to really want to see yourself from 3 angles to do it? why are they forcing reflections of myself on me id rather not see right there in the dressing room? i made a mental note to fill out a customer service card, just a simple suggestion of removing the 3 way mirrors when the swimwear arrives would be sufficient. while staring at myself in disgust, jack thankfully broke the mood with the pin cushion. as in he found it somehow between fistfuls of dirty raisins and was now beginning to put the pin in his mouth. so, i moved in quickly and saved the boy from the choking hazard. i did nothing about the dirty raisins. i decided to call this a wasted day and started getting dressed. i was between the swimsuit and my clothing (that brief minute when you can think of nothing other than the comfort of your own clothes that fit and hide hail damage) when jack opened the dressing room door. thank you, jack. now im naked and horrified. what a great combo. in one seamless move jack was tossed and the door was closed, with a barricade of me preventing any future public exposure.

we left that wonderful 3 way mirror, pin cushion, lever handle door knobs store and came home. which was awesome because my $400 lands end order was waiting on the steps! yay! i had been assured by several very reliable sources that lands end was made for moms and grandmas and all varieties of women who need some bathing suit help (which i find somewhat deceiving because none of their models need any help, but whatever). apparently, they have an insane amount of spandex (which i always thought i should avoid, but supposedly, when in a suit, it has a less trashy scary look and manages to hold you in) it sounded altogether magical. i have never in my life been in such a hurry to go through the hell of putting on a suit, but with the lands end package in hand, i felt my luck was changing. ill say right now, dont take me to vegas. i put that spandex filled contraption on and looked. and stared. i look like something...something familiar, wait for it...oh, clearly, i looked like a sausage in casing. a big katie dean sausage. you have got to be kidding me. am i really the one person in the world who cant even wear a lands end suit? i have already returned all but one of them. the one i kept is really not good. add in what i paid for it and its down right ridiculous, but im not giving up or giving in. i am keeping this casing until i look great in it or find something else. im ordering from athleta this week...ill keep you posted.

want vs need

what i want to blog about today is my recent swimsuit shopping endeavor aptly named 'mission somewhat impossible' or 'holy crap, these two kids have done a number on me' or 'whose arse is that really in the mirror', but instead, what i need to blog about today is the recent wave of stories ive read of families losing those they love, a child, a father, a wife. families who are drowning in grief one excruciatingly long moment at a time. and i dont want take you down these gut wrenching roads with me as i relive their journey with them in size 12 font nor do i want to ruin your day with their sadness. rather, i want to give you the cliff notes version of what im taking away from them. if all i do is read and weep and lift gut wrenching prayers on behalf of their suffering, but fail to change something within myself, i have missed it. i have missed the opportunity of their lifetime to change the course of mine. and after reading and weeping, their lives are more than worthy of altering my own. their lives and love are heavy enough to permeate my days if ill let them and today as i sit here and am left with the opportunity to reflect, i want nothing more than to be saturated by their legacies.

i will cherish the interruptions to my plans. this will not mean celebrating a blizzard that delays my husbands return home (although how blessed i am to have a husband coming home). rather, it means giving my 'plans' their due priority. laundry can wait while i read books under a blanket with one very cuddly baby boy. dinner can wait while i attend yet another afternoon tea party with 4 babies, two puppies and one very proud 4 year old peach. we will blow off errands to play at the park, get out the play dough, puzzles and paint and blow bubbles until we're sick of it. what im learning daily is that the joy justifies the mess every time. and while i love a clean house and enjoy nice things, at the end of the day we are not living in a museum (and seriously, mt vernon is nice, but i would never want that old stuffy house anyway) and our home is so much more about the feelings within it than the crap filling up the spaces.

i rocked my son to sleep today just because i could. he would have happily laid down and fallen asleep, just like he will do the majority of his life, but today, while looking at him i swear i saw changes in him from a week ago. he is growing and changing and running faster than i would like to admit. so, now, while i can catch him, im going to hold him. we prayed for these families as we rocked back and forth and when i laid him down in his crib i saw the verse painted on the wall above ::

for He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go.

psalm 91:11

i have always imagined the wherever being more than his physical location (although those of you that know our sweet and fearless boy can most certainly attest to angels holding his hands and protecting him from a 3 story fall most recently). more than his physical location and condition, i prayed when placing this above jacks crib that His angels would be protecting him in his spirit, in his heart and in his mind. i imagined them sitting with him in times of grief and loneliness, in longing and pain. i imagined them celebrating with him in moments of joy and elation, in love and success. and i am comforted by a God who is there, filling up and filling in the spaces of our grief and corners of our doubt. in our justified anger and outrage. in our all consuming fear and sadness. He is there. even when we are so removed from Him, we cannot feel Him. even when we deny His presence. He is still there. my prayer for these families as they crawl through every stage of their grief and suffering is they would feel Him, too. that His angels would protect them wherever they go. that His arms would offer a haven of comfort and sanctuary of peace. and most of all, that i can honor their loved ones with how i choose to spend the minutes of my days. it is the one tribute worthy of their legacy that will forever be a part of mine.

the perks

when you are away and i am on my own, i tell myself there are some perks to my reclaimed, semi forced independence. there is a bed that i can sleep in the middle of, a laundry basket that takes longer to fill and quiet evenings of alone time to do whatever i choose to do.

and while the perks are easy to see coming and look forward to (as we both know what a bed and blanket hog i can be) they never fail to disappoint. the truth is that the perks are simply a figment of my imagination that allow me to be overly optimistic about time apart. unfortunately, the reality is that nearly 10 years into this union of we, i am no longer completely me separate from you.

this union and this life with you, this marriage and this love have taken up more of me than i knew it could. so much so that when i am alone, i am missing the best part of myself. the person i was before is now so intricately woven into this life we share, i no longer recognize her on her own. and i am forever grateful that in your presence, i am whole and in your absence, i am missing something. the something that helps me sleep soundly and easily, comforted most by simply knowing you are there. the something that fills my time with conversation or easy silence. the something that offers me profound encouragement and reassurance just by sharing the same space.

when you are gone, i am missing something. something precious, sacred and treasured. something loved and cherished and adored. i am missing the 'we' that He has created, the 'us' that we have evolved to and the family that we are. the something i am missing most in the hours of my days and minutes of my nights is you. more than anything. you.

**it happens

normally i avoid poop stories. mostly because there is still a part of me left from my childhood that would like to pretend no one poops. im sure it stems in part from growing up in a house with 3 girly girls living in it and no place for bathroom humor. i didnt know poop could be funny until i met pat and then of course his sister who is a total girl and can still find bathroom humor somewhat entertaining. and while i continue to avoid most conversations that center around poop, lately its becoming unavoidable.

i find it truly amazing what motherhood will do with an aversion to poop. she comes in with this bundle of joy and then all but immerses you in a sea of sh**. it starts with seemingly harmless poop that barely exists and is mostly scent free. and then of course before you know it, you are changing the diapers of a manchild who eats everything you eat and the nasty grows. then theres potty training (which for me was pretty uneventful the first time around which all but guarantees a multitude of poop issues the second time around) and then the announcements from the backseat of, 'i have to poop. a little, but please hurry' or while at the playground you suddenly find yourself leaving one child in the care of total strangers to take the other child into the woods to poop by the old oak tree.

and if not for the 24 hour span i recently experienced, i might be able to let this post pass, but as one who has just had the poopscapades ive had, i just have to share. you can thank me later.

on wednesday while hosting some of the coolest people in the world for their visit to d.c., we were all doing our part in helping me get the peach to preschool. we'd had a lazy morning of coffee drinking and talking and before i knew it i had exactly 7 minutes to get georgia to school. which was awesome because we were all still in our jammies. i began flying around upstairs disguising my lack of hygiene with a hat and spackling on some under eye concealer to trick people into thinking id had a lot more sleep than the few hours i really had. gk was in her room independently getting herself ready when i heard a blood curdling scream from her bathroom. i went running, as any semi responsible mama would and found her pants down, crap smeared self standing next the toilet. i said, 'sweetie, WHAT is the matter???' to which she answered, 'my brother did THIS!' and pointed into the potty. i hadnt even noticed jdub standing there until that moment. but just as she said, there he was, with a fistful of her necklaces looking into the poop filled potty. apparently, hed bum rushed the toilet, knocked her off and thrown something of value into the now crowded toilet. when i looked down, i could see what was freaking her out. the FREE plastic necklace shed picked out at the doctors office eons ago was now at the bottom of the toilet. everything in me wanted to 'accidentally' flush and move on, but i knew if it got stopped up, id have to admit to patrick (who is no plumber) that i had in fact, lazily chosen to take my chances and flush the necklace/poop combo. crap. so, i did what any sleep deprived, rushed mother of two who has become so desensitized to things that just a few short years ago would have had me gagging or hiring help to take care of. i reached in and grabbed that piece of crap necklace, flushed the poop, cleaned the toilet and the peach and began sanitizing all surfaces. and we were only 4 minutes late for school.

this should be the end of the story or at least the end of the poop story, but shock of all shocks, it isnt. i had around 24 hours to recover from the trauma of 'operation crappy jewelry' before experiencing poopscapade numero dos.

gk has had a cough for weeks. long enough for me to dismiss the 'its just a cold' theory and long enough for me to take her to the doctor for real meds. unfortunately, real meds have real side effects. some of you mamas are already tracking. that little miracle antibiotic, augmentin, is good for two things: curing what ever ails you and causing insane amounts of poop.

day 1 on the augmentin:: 'mooooooom, i need you, i had an accident.' i was sluggish to respond. mostly because she hasnt had an accident in many many months and even more so because i was chatting with my mom on the phone. i casually walked over to the bathroom and said something along the lines of 'mom, i gotta go, theres poop EVERYWHERE'. click.

and there was. the toilet, the floor, the door, the door knob, the rug, the peach. everywhere. seriously? apparently the antibiotic was doing wonders for her cough and her intestines. nice. so, we cleaned, cloroxed and sanitized all appropriate floors, knobs and surfaces. this was a scene that would repeat itself on a much smaller scale no less than 3 more times that day. three. (arent you thrilled im not sharing those details?) during the clean up of the first disaster, jdub managed to climb on top of the dining room table and fall off. fortunately his fall was broken by one of the chairs (weak silver lining, i know). at some point (although i barely remember it) i called patrick at work and gave him a run down of my morning on his voice mail. i must have sounded pathetic enough to land some serious sympathy points because he arrived home that night with the prettiest box of chocolates ive ever seen.

im hoping this is the last chapter in my long list of poopscapades, but with two little people in the house that continue to eat, i highly doubt this is the end of it. good times. please feel free to share any of your poopscapades, now that i get bathroom humor and know whats funny, id love to hear them. cheers to motherhood and her very dry sense of humor.

dear mr. bobcat man,

okay, so i may need to apologize for a brief minute. you see, today, when i looked out my window and saw you maneuvering the coolest piece of machinery ive seen in a long time, i was in awe of you. (and while im no machinery expert, im guessing the bobcat you were driving has to be the coolest mini dozer in all the land). i came running out to ask you to remove some snow from behind one of our cars and i totally chickened out. yes, that was me, running to you and then running away. i then came in the house to send out my super cool hubby to ask what i was unable to ask. he, being a guy, was totally impressed but not awe struck (although he did compare you to a super hero once you left). i just want to say thank you. thank you for removing the 7 foot pile of snow from behind our weak sauce vw which would be going nowhere until spring if not for you and your amazing side kick, super bob the bobcat. i brought you coke, beer and offered hot chocolate. i would have invited you in for dinner, but something inside me (perhaps that rare logical side of me that occasionally emerges) helped me control myself.

you are amazing. you have freed our car, our afternoon and renewed my faith in our home owners association. you prevented me from keeping vigil in our one clear space to keep lazy neighbors from swiping it. inevitably you prevented a weak suburban type brawl all with your snow moving skillz. you have made me want to invest in a bobcat for the once in a millenium blizzard just for the once in a lifetime experience of feeling the glory of being you, super hero bobcat man.

and its super bowl sunday. how cool is that? you get to be the hero of one of the greatest battles of man vs nature on the same day every man, woman and child will be watching another legendary, history making game. well, i for one, mr. bobcat man, will remember you far longer than ill remember the superbowl champs.

so forgive me for being an over zealous fan, but seriously, as one incredibly observant husband commented as you so humbly drove away, 'that guy just saved our bacon.' thanks, mr bobcat man for saving the bacon and so much more. you are the superbowl champion of snowpocolypse 2010.

resolutions

i know you thought early february would be entirely too late to post a few new years resolutions. clearly you dont know me and how notoriously late i roll. so here goes in absolutely no particular order my list (less some of you type A crazies try and crack the code...there simply is none).

1. i will have my list done no later than february 3rd. already im exceeding expectations for myself.

2. i will continue busting my arse at the gym even if only for 10 more pounds. they are afterall, the most resilient 10 pounds in all the land, resisting mile after mile of calorie burning, exhaustion inducing treadmill time. they are my nemesis and i will run them off this year. or i lll give up entirely and toast my defeat with a pint of ben and jerrys. either way, im all in for at least a little while longer.

3. taking my cue from the movie julie & julia, i will no longer have friends i dont like. admit it, if you are a woman, you have friends you dont like. its crazy and im confident one of the reasons women still dont get equal pay...men dont have friends they dont like. we have got to correct this insanity. im starting now.

4. i will stop eating chips and salsa for lunch everyday. mostly because i can no longer justify to gk why she MUST finish her nitrate free sandwich, organic milk, organic fruit and last nights leftover veggies before she can have (drumroll) yogurt covered raisins. all of this with a mouthful of some vegetable oil fried tortilla chips and salsa. the hypocrisy has been brought to my attention by one fairly insightful 4 year old and i am fresh out of a legit comeback. they may also have formed an alliance with my 10 pounds. this is one happy union im going to attempt to break up.

5. if there are type As and type Bs, ive decided im a type Z. im finally okay with that. i have come to terms with how im wired up and i will no longer resist my type Z tendencies which include lots of to do lists that list numerous things ive already done, just because i like crossing things off and feeling like im making progress. logic rarely comes into play with type Zs.

6. i will finally clear out my linen closet and along with it years of linen loving collecting. at this point, we could have 7 beds made, with everyone wetting the bed the same night and not one would be without a fresh, clean set of sheets. crazy. i could be considered a linen hoarder. i have crappy towels from a decade ago that ive been saving in case we give the dog a bath. except we havent had abe since may of 2007 and i would never wrap up one of my soft, sensitive skin kids in one of them, so they need to go. along with the shower curtain from our first house. i paid too much for it and have been hanging onto it out of guilt. of course i just spent $30 to mail something to hawaii...type Z. nuff said.

7. we will invest stock in julios seasoning & chips, blue bell ice cream and shiner bock beer. why? because everyone we know outside the state of texas would offer up their first born or at least a kidney to have all three in the same house at the same time. theyre just that good. except for that seasonal shiner that tasted like crap. that was a rare exception.

8. i plan on watching mizzou and texas a & m lose every single game this season. especially when mizzou plays criminal ku and a & m faces t.u. this is my new expectation and im not holding out for any pleasant surprises. no edge of your couch anticipation, no game day parties with neutral friends who watch us become heartbroken fans left with nothing more than stories of decades past where victory was really a possibility. nope. from now on, we are looking forward to another rebuilding year.

9. i will no longer allow myself to get sucked into the infamous military wife chatter of one upsies. so, we moved 5 times in 8 years with a lot of crazy highs and lows and last minute change of plans. there in lies the story of EVERY military family. youre not special. im not special. in fact, we have had it pretty easy considering what so many other families have endured. we are unbelievably blessed to have job security serving in the most noble of ways no less with the perks of seeing the world. does it suck somedays? of course. am i drinking the kool aid? not a chance. but, i am guilty of listening to the litany of military speak complaints and sharing my own hard to believe tales. im done with it and promise to do better. at least until better half deploys again...then ill need some accountability...angie, dont let me slip. :)

10. i will blog more. my disclaimer is they may stink. i may have nothing to say or share, but i certainly wont let my lack of worthy material keep me from putting it out there. i have to make a more consistent effort. heres to mediocrity and a happy 2010.

awwww. kward

im sorry in advance for this post. a) it wont be that good b) its a little gross c) i wish i had something else to blog about, but as this incident and accompanying images from it is seared in my mind, my hope is that once i have purged it here for you, i may be able to release myself from its memory. at least thats the goal.

i have become a legit, completely committed gym person. it is no longer my matchy matchy attire that keeps me going nor the excuses for new running shoes, but rather the hour plus of alone time (i completely tune out any and all other people there) that i am able to spend by myself watching sportscenter on my treadmill or listening to 'katies groove' on my ipod (which consists of everything from coldplay to outkast to kenny chesney). i love my gym time. i love going, i love running and lifting and getting a great workout in on a regular basis. let me clarify really quick here for those of you that know me and are wondering who took over my mind that once lived by the clear mantra of 'dont run unless someones chasing you' and 'i hate exercise so much id drive to the bathroom if i could', i assure you i have not become one of THOSE people. you know, the weird runners high crew who really do love running as much as they love cheesecake. i promise you, i still love cheesecake more. i have simply come to value the time it gives me with my thoughts to burn a few calories. however, last week i was traumatized.

my locker room at the gym is quaint (read small) with numerous 3 foot benches strewn about bolted securely to the floor in front of lockers. there is never more than 5 people in the locker room at one time. ever. and i like my privacy. i like showering at home with closed doors and yummy soap and the lack of athletes foot on my tiles. i like fluffy towels and clean steamy mirrors. my gym has none of these, which is why i save my naked time for home. i wish more people did. not that im bothered by naked strangers around me, but seriously, towels, people, towels. the other night after running for an hour i retreated to the locker room to lay on a bench and drink my water. the split second between sitting on the bench and laying down was just enough time for g.i. body builder jane to swoop over to my bench and have a seat on the other end. with a whole 18 inches between us, i was anxious for her to get dressed or find her towel, but whatever. it was at this moment i decided it would be more awkward for me to move to another bench and make jane uncomfortable. wouldnt want to make anyone uncomfortable, would we?? so i sat. and focused on my hydrating. and then she started stretching. stretching. as in yoga on MY bench NAKED. really? still no towel available, jane? or maybe that bench right over there with no one on it would work? why is this bench with awkward me now so focused on my water bottle i think i could light it on fire with just my concentration so appealing? and why wouldnt you take advantage of those awesome mats out in the gym conveniently there for you guessed it, stretching? why must you be here so close to me and so naked that im now wishing i was anywhere else...you know so this wouldnt be so awkward? apparently, jane couldnt hear me thinking so the stretching continued for quite some time (like most wonderfully pleasant situations) before i casually got up and exited stage right.

and i do still love my gym time and i dont mind my locker room time, but the towels need to be bigger and mandatory and the benches need to be smaller and made for one, preferably non stretching person. and perhaps under all the signs of 'cell phone use prohibited' and 'towels only, please' there could be just one more, 'no naked stretching on benches, please'. i feel better already. thanks for letting me purge.

almost right

so today, while attempting to call my brilliant and talented friend, natalie, i relied heavily on my crazy good memory. i recalled her digits from deep within the depths of my tired mind...a number i had not dialed in over 2 years (because im THAT awesome at keeping in touch). often wrong but never in doubt (as my incredibly perceptive dad likes to point out), i dialed. ring ring. ring ring. so a few more rings later and the voicemail kicks in. this message was so outlandishly stupid with the thickest, weirdest accent and strangest names imaginable, that i, remembering natalies adorable sense of humor, proceeded to ramble on a 5 minute message. no joke. of course i mentioned the 'clever' voice mail message noting the weird accent (afterall, she lives in south dakota) among other numerous details of my life before laughing once again at her creativity with the voicemail and finally hanging up. a few minutes passed when i thought to 'double check' my crazy good recall skillz with my contacts list. yes, i had her number in my contacts all along, but my phone was charging and i was so very sure of myself. blah blah blah. once i checked the number (merely for some ego stroking affirmation) i realized i was off by one number. just one. but...we all know thats really all it takes, right? so im waiting for freak show voicemail people to call me back anytime. ill keep you posted. sometimes i really impress myself with the level of dumb i somehow reach. good job, katie, that memory is almost as awesome as your judgment.

something brilliant

if you were hoping for something brilliant to read, join the club. im simply hoping for coherent thoughts that fit like puzzle pieces rather than one of those stupid staring pictures that were oh so popular a decade ago. the ones where if you looked at them long enough and let your eyes glaze, the most wonderfully obvious picture would come into view. ive never ever been able to see one. maybe im not patient enough to wait, maybe when my eyes glaze my mind quickly follows or maybe my failure to recognize the obvious in those pictures is one more facet of my life where regardless of the time i spend, the obvious hidden meaning eludes me far longer than id like to admit. clarity for me, im afraid, simply takes more time, effort and experience than one of those eye glazing moments. the truth is, it sometimes takes years.

and here i am, finally soaking up a bit of clarity in a house that is strangely silent except the soft hum of our heat and im staring at the most perfectly imperfect Christmas tree with ornaments crammed on the top third so the littlest of the little people can no longer reach/choke/break them. i cant help but think of this most glorious season of giving and receiving and what i have to be thankful for. ive had this pervasive thought over the last few weeks as certain people have crossed my mind that you can tell so much about ones priorities by how they spend their time and how they spend their money. i know of some of the most generous people who sacrificially give to so many with their time, talents and finances. i know of others that while they have much to offer, are mere sponges in life. soaking up excessive amounts of attention, love and possessions without so much as giving a trickle of themselves in return. one is incredibly inspiring, the other nauseating. i have the profound privilege of spending one night a week with a group of high school girls from our church. its a life group of sorts where we share our days, questions, concerns, thoughts and prayers for one another. we had our Christmas party last night and one of the girls on her own had asked if we could collect money and purchase something through world vision. her generosity moved me. her thoughtfulness inspired me. at 14, she has a sincere consideration and compassion for others. and so in the midst of laughter and comfort, we stopped and shopped for those who this Christmas (as well as the other 364 days of the year) have very little. we are financing the education of 3 kids for a year simply because one person thought of someone else.

priorities tend to shift over time with the demands we place on ourselves or have placed on us. while we tend to say our priorities are the same...many say faith, family, friends and others....like who really wants to admit theyre number one priority is themselves? yet, i know people who live out their faith in the most dutiful of ways, see their families with the leftovers of themselves and rarely make time for the friends in their lives. and others? what others. sure, while the idea of helping and serving those in need is a lovely thought, it is just that. a thought. a thought that crosses the mind, camps out long enough to conjure up a grateful thought, maybe even a quick tear and then leaves as quickly as it entered, never leaving a trace it was ever there. and if im being honest (which i tend to do here) i empathize with this more than id like to admit and while its easiest to point the finger at the biggest sponges i know, the truth is i have had countless moments where i found myself caught up in the overwhelmingly sad reality of others only to simply move on and back into my own world where things are much easier to stomach and the blessings are too numerous to count.

and i want to do more and be more to those most in need. if i truly want to raise selfless children with hearts of compassion and gratitude, they have to see it first with me. and regardless of what we do already, i know we could do more. when i think of the money spent at this time of year, this glorious time that began with the greatest gift of a Savior, born bloody and crying in the arms of His mother, i think of what all of these purchases have to do with His birth. sure, we give gifts to celebrate His arrival, the sacrificial gift given to us so many years ago...but what do our gifts say about His gift? what am i giving this year that glorifies and honors His life changing gift to me? and im not suggesting we stop the gift giving. im simply giving more than a moments pause and thought to the idea that if all i do is give to those i love rather than those in need, perhaps i am missing the message of the greatest gift of all. surely He did not come to simply save us, but also to redeem us and change us. to bend our hearts toward loving, living and serving others with our whole lives, not simply in the fleeting thoughts of occasional compassion.

this Christmas will not be about me. about us. or about the amazing family and friends i am blessed to share life with. it will be an opportunity for my life to reflect my priorities with more than easily spoken words. my hope and prayer is that i am a good steward of the time and finances so generously given to me. that the way i spend the minutes of my life will accurately portray what i value most. faith. family. friends. others. clarity can be an elusive, beautiful and often times challenging thing, but always always worth the wait. merry Christmas.

thanks peach

i can always count on georgia to lighten my mood. always. except between the hours of midnight and 6 am at which time my mood is on 'irritated' if im awake regardless of who you are. last week as a result of a routine check up at the eye doctors and not so routine appointment at the pediatricians office for 14 consecutive days of green snot, we were booked for both appointments with an hour and half between them. so doable, but not so much fun as i have become completely insane with the kids touching things in public places (i blame the media for my swine flu paranoia) and i have taken to hand sanitizing them at minute intervals in every waiting area imaginable. first up was the eye doctor where we were quickly ushered back from the waiting area with windows and armchairs (and finding nemo on the tv) into the dimly lit exam room with thousands of dollars of breakable eye equipment and one big chair that incidentally goes up and down if you dance around the pedals long enough. not a huge deal, we were after all the first appointment past the lunch hour (score!) and both kiddos are typically pretty awesome at this kind of thing. pretty awesome for awhile. not so awesome for an HOUR. no joke.

within the hour, we had successfully given the exam room an extreme kid makeover complete with 233 cheerios on the floor, an elmo phone, a sippy cup and several pacis, all of which i was picking up, wiping off and handing back to the bored lump while simultaneously trying to pick up the shower of cheerios and hide the evidence we had broken the absurd 'please no eating and drinking in exam room' rule. i was mildly distracted (read all but standing on my head to keep jack happy) when gk gets my attention with, 'mommy, the chair is way up high.' why yes it was. way up. as in i thought we may have broken it for a brief minute until gk showed me how to make it come down. apparently we had been in there long enough for her to learn the ropes on some of the equipment. im guessing a few more minutes and she could have given herself, jack and i all a thorough eye exam. so, an hour into it with me now sweating and swaying with the 25 lb jack in my arms while ripping open every fruit snack in my purse in an attempt to make all the eye crap seem less tempting to the peach, id had enough. as in...so sick of practicing my patience i could just about scream. and then i made a huge mistake. i opened the door. the one that they close immediately after putting you in there. the one that provides a layer of protection between you and them when youve had enough of the insane wait time. the one that offers an element of privacy and mystery while your left there to simply check your watch and count the minutes until you hear the footsteps finally stop outside your door and the chart finally get picked up and then...then the door knob turns and you are seen at last!! well...i opened the door. when my look of 'please help me, im dying in here with the little people' didnt get anyones attention, i started walking down the hall toward the waiting area. i had the appearance of someone just venturing off a deserted island where there was plenty to eat but the conditions were brutal. as we turned the corner into the bright shiny happy waiting area that now smelled like freedom, gk yelled, 'they have nemo out here!'. yes, gk, they do. but we have a really expensive chair that goes up and down...isnt that fun?

at this point there is no one heading my way with a life boat or cocktail and i reluctantly head back to the exam room where we happen to pass the good doctors office. where his door is open. where he is on the phone. scheduling a TEE TIME for the upcoming weekend. it is on. we get back to the cell and wait another five minutes until the doctor finally joins us. he was so chipper, probably imagining the fun hed have on the course in a few quick days while we on the other hand were now resembling survivors of some horrible experiment where they put you in a room full of germs and crap that could cost you money if you break it with little light and nothing to do with small children by yourself for over an hour. and for added fun, they add in loads of snot dripping from the children. nice. anywho i explain in the nicest tone i could find (which is always fast and unnaturally high pitched when im hiding my livid side) to the tiger woods wannabe that i would love to chat but we now had 15 minutes to make it to our next appointment to check on ear infections, pneumonia and other fun stuff. he kindly rushed through his exam, kept the dumb jokes to a minimum and assured us the peach is doing quite well. as he was turning to leave he tells gk 'goodbye' at which time she says, 'goodbye. now we're going to see the REAL doctor.' he mentions that he is in fact a doctor. she laughs. literally laughs and says, 'no, i mean the doctor doctor. the one who makes me feel better.' normally i would have corrected her. normally i would have fallen over myself with some witty explanation. not after an hour. nope. this time we just left it like that and headed toward freedom on the outside of the exam room.

the perfect time

so ive been waiting for the perfect time to blog. to throw something out there that might let all 4 of you know at least one of the countless blog worthy experiences ive had over the last 6 weeks. let me know if you figure out when the perfect time is. as of right now, i have laundry in the dryer, laundry on my dining room table, a baby covered (its even in his ears) in pasta sauce and a 3 year old spinning in circles until she falls down (at which time she sheds a quick tear, grabs a boo boo buddy and begins the process over again...the intellectual curve is beginning to even out). from where im typing i can see no less than 3 dust bunnies, a to do list that now includes showering and a menu for thanksgiving that needs some tweeking. ive got $100 for the first person that can cross my living room floor without tripping, falling or slipping on any number of choking hazards laying around left by two very inquisitive children...who prefer taking EVERY item they own out first and THEN deciding which ones they dont want to play with...preferring instead to head butt furniture and empty kitchen cabinets. so the perfect time continues to elude me, one minute, one day and finally one month at a time.

and its not that i dont have something brilliant to share (although that information is unfortunately jammed between the song 'i know an old lady who swallowed a fly' and the adorable ring i noticed on the receptionist yesterday that i keep thinking ive seen somewhere before) its just the ongoing dilemma of finding the time and then of course finding the words to tell you about it. on a side note, i have no clue as to what the hell that old lady swallowed except for the fly and while that in and of itself shouldnt have killed her, georgia has been requesting (badgering, nagging, demanding) we discover every possible thing she could have swallowed. i suggested we start and end with an elephant...making for a sure death and quick song, but ive now heard her rattle off no less than 15 different objects that old lady could have swallowed. and i digress.

i once thought id write in the morning but unfortunately as one who cant even speak well before 10 and a pot of coffee, i quickly realized the coordination to type and or think is not accessible in the early hours. the truth is that now my eldest child has begun boycotting naps and my youngest has begun training as a professional wrestler (complete with diving leaps off of furniture and head butting his sister), ive needed to be on my A game when it comes to parenting during the waking hours. and then of course the night time rolls around and while i consider myself a night owl, im more of the owl that enjoys chilling on the branch relaxing rather than hunting around full speed in the sky.

so there hasnt been time and really i havent made time. the time i have has been spent loving on my little people. wiping noses, folding tiny clothes and soaking up as many crisp fall days at the park as possible. although, now that i know the high chair works to prevent injuries to the little one and really, how dangerous is spinning and falling...i may have a plan shaping up to carve out the perfect time.

ordinary us

there will come a day when our kids, in spite of all our tall tales of life before them, will insist that we are fairly ordinary. memories of shark diving and sky diving will be part of our distant past and they will be forced to see us as parents. two people lucky enough to be sharing our days and years together, building a life moment by moment and doing our best to leave a legacy for the little people. there will be fun family trips and inside family jokes, but the truth is the vast majority of our lives will be lived in the ordinary way that all lives are, with memories and joy lying in the smallest of everyday moments. and what i want you to know more than anything is that after 11 years of we, in light of highs and lows and all that could be...i find you, wrapped up and caught up in the ordinary nothing shy of extraordinary. i am left simply overwhelmed by your abundant generosity, palpable sincerity and the film of kindness left on everything you touch.

you, extraordinary you, lead our family with love and integrity, faith and wisdom and a heart that continually puts us first. and we can never thank you enough or love you enough or tell you enough just how proud we are to be yours. how thankful we are that you, in the mundane rhythm of yesterday and today give us countless reasons to love you tomorrow. we are yours. and the ordinary is simply beautiful with you in it as you continually mold it with joy and love, kindness and respect. our minutes can be filled with chaos or peace, uncertainty or grief, but you, extraordinary you, always show up with confidence and faith wrapped in love. you protect and provide for us in a way that leaves me dumbfounded. and grateful. in the still of the morning as you leave quietly and i begin the quick drift back to sleep, i simply roll over and thank God for you. for a man that humbly serves his God, country and family with an unwavering commitment to putting others first. we are just 3 of the lucky others in an incredibly long and growing list. and so, in the dark and quiet of the morning, i smell the coffee you dont have time to drink but always brew for me nonetheless, and i raise up the most ordinary prayer of thanks to an amazing God who so graciously gave us extraordinary you.

why.

i was told once a long time ago from some well intentioned holy rolling christian (the kind that had me seriously considering leaving church for awhile before i had a chat with God and He kindly assured me it really wasnt all about her and her types) where she, in her vast knowledge and perfect interpretations explained to me in the nicest of ways why we, as followers of Jesus, are not to ask God why He does what He does. i remember smiling politely and nodding my head all the while feeling a bit sheepish and guilty because i had asked God on countless occasions why.

why were nearly 3,000 innocent people allowed to die when a few crazy radicals thought it best to fly planes into buildings.

why didnt mr. woods from my home town blow his own head off before hunting down his wife and young children as they ran for their lives around their house while dodging the inevitable plan of death he had for them.

why the tsunami.

why are their children sold for sex for a few dollars to a multitude of sick bastards who are more than willing to pay.

why andrea yates.

why darfur.

why. why. why.

i have a million whys for God. something i read or hear or see on a daily basis has me asking Him why. He doesnt owe me an explanation or an answer. He doesnt even have to listen and truth be told i have far more questions than i have answers. i know of children in need of love. of orphans in need of parents. of kids caught up and tossed about and lost in a system that while full of great intentions is horribly broken. and i know of women who were born to be mothers, women who would make incredible mothers and if not for the overwhelming pain and heartbreak of not being able to conceive a child of their own would never meet the divine fork in the road where they, in their grief and longing for motherhood, would forever alter the life and future of a baby in desperate need of them and their love. children born of their hearts not of their wombs...most certainly after years of asking why.

and i mean no disrespect when out of disbelief i come to my Father and question Him. im not trying to fill the role of the right hand man, not trying to second guess Him in all His perfectness or imply He owes me an answer. i just cant imagine Him creating each of us with our sense of reason and logic and our minds full of natural curiosity only to ask us to spend our lives simply void of questions when it comes to what lies under His control (which is incidentally everything). my trust and faith in Him easily coexist with my questions of Him. much like georgia asking me if im going to catch her while she jumps, i can ask God 'why' while simultaneously trusting Him and His plans. i can have my faith shaken by the heartache and grief around me and be left grasping for answers and clinging to Him for the hope and peace i long to steady me. i have spent the better part of this week in a tailspin of questions for Him and while i have been honest and confused, fumbling for ways to articulate my bewilderment to Him, He has met me where i am and calmed me reassuring me once again that He is present. if God the Son, while fulfilling His purpose and having all of the answers can still cry out to His Father in immeasurable pain and ask why from the cross...certainly we, His children, when witnessing or consumed by our own suffering can ask the same of Him with the same certainty that He is listening with compassion and comfort in our time of need.

so i wonder. and i ask. and i wait for answers that usually never come or that i simply do not recognize or understand. what i do know without question is God is present and accounted for in every situation that gives me pause. sometimes Hes most visible in the midst of the storm, other times in the aftermath. but He is always there. so ill continue to love and to trust and to ask why, eagerly anticipating the day when we are face to face and all of the hope and all of the blessings that remained unseen to me in the living years are revealed.

the not so great outdoors

let me start by admitting in complete and total honesty im a total poser when i appear to be enjoying myself in the great outdoors. i own northface and merrells. i can rock nothing but chapstick for a day or two and ive been known to take a shower with nothing but a few baby wipes, but i pretty much hate every second of it. its not my thing. sure, i have romanticized the crap out of the IDEA of camping...campfires, shooting stars, crisp mountain top sunrises with nothing but the birds keeping me company. the problem is the reality of it...bug bites, crappy coffee, a hard ground, gear to haul around like mules, limited wardrobe changes, non existent shower facilities (and let me just say right here for you crazy 'oh there are campgrounds with showers and bathrooms...i say boo to you...really? i know theyre not clean, and while running water may constitute a shower to you, i require a bit more, like steaming hot water, clean tiles and soap that smells good enough to snack on). and of course theres the beginning of time dilemma of where and how do you pooh in the woods...and why of course you cant pooh for days on a camping trip. ah yes. and tava, we cant all have fifth wheels. soooo, back to why camping sucks and more importantly why its on the brain tonight...

i once thought patrick and i should go camping and like all new ideas of mine, i got overly excited and eager about the accessorizing part. i spent loads of time researching tents, perusing up and down aisles everywhere from rei to target wondering what the perfect tent would look like for us. thank God i had the opportunity to go camping in a tee pee in aspen for a few days because i immediately realized that our perfect tent looked identical to a room at the hilton. there were porta potties (which are really just little caves i refer to as hell deterrents as i imagine hell is one big giant porta potty that everyone in hell has to use and spend all their time next to) and sleeping bags and of course baby wipes. it was a fabulous opportunity to spend time with amazing students and it saved patrick and i a boatload of money because if it wasnt for that trip we would be the proud owners of all things camp like and it would all be brand spankin new.

needless to say, our sweet kids will get their love of the outdoors from some other people which remain unknown to us at this current time because we pretty much roll with people like us. however, this week i did have a brief opportunity to share with georgia a camping experience. on our way home from running errands, i, in an attempt to reward some outstanding behavior suggested we travel to a new playground. one far from our house and in the woods. brilliant. we arrived at the hidden playground to find one mama watching over her 4 year old little boy climbing on the slide. georgia was thrilled, i was thrilled. fast forward 20 minutes into our excursion. other mama and i have made enough small talk that i know she is tired and relieved to have 2 of her 3 boys in school while monkey child hangs and swings from every piece of playground equipment. jack is happily swinging in the swing and the peach is enjoying the tunnel slide. all is well. at this time the peach mentions, 'mommy, i have to go potty'. i said, 'okay, no big deal. lets pack up and go home and i promise we can come back later today or another day.' to which my natural born used car salesman replies, 'actually, i really dont have to go.' fast forward 48 seconds....'mommy, actually, i have to go poop and i have to go right now.'

several things flashed through my mind and i was left with only one choice. i looked to the other mama and said something like, 'can you make sure no one takes my baby from the swing while i take my daughter to poop in the woods?' these are words i really never thought id utter and yet, here i was, leaving my infant in the care of a stranger to take my peach into the woods to poop. i hate camping. once in the woods, the ever inquisitive georgia asked, 'what do i do?' to which i answered, 'well, honey, you just poop. right here. under this lovely tree.' she looked at me like she was waiting for me to say just kidding. when i didnt, she said, 'well, i guess im fine with that.' so she pooped. and of course she wanted toilet paper. geez, georgia, right now toilet paper and some hand sanitizer would really make my day too, but what we have is a leaf, so here you go. double eww. at this point all i wanted was a hot shower in my clean bathroom with this whole disgusting experience behind me. so we headed back to the swings to find jack happily, obliviously swinging. he was laughing at us like, 'i get to poop on myself. its so much easier.' i thanked stranger lady profusely for preventing any abduction of the lump and we called it a day. and while im no camper, the peach may just be...on the way home i overheard her talking to her baby doll and it went something like this...'so, baby, one day when youre big like me, you can poop in the woods too. its really pretty cool.' ugh.

hodgepodge

every now and then i have a few things to share...some isolated incidents that are worth mentioning. and while none of them on their own is worthy of an entire post, when combined, i think they just might be. first of all, i just spent a wonderful weekend in williamsburg, va with my 3 college roomies. i took away a few things from the 24 hours spent together drinking wine and reliving days that are further behind us than any of us would really like to admit. williamsburg really is a nice little city full of pancake houses and historical reenactments. woo. instead of getting our history swagger on, we opted for laser tag, a visit to the winery and a record trip down to a bar on the one hip strip in the burg. laser tag:: super fun. ive played before and had a great time, but this time was even more fun thanks to the group of 15 8 year old boys out for blood. at one point one of them yelled at me when i missed an open shot on my best friend (on the opposing side) by screaming, 'shes blue shes BLUE!!! this isnt boys against girls, lady, its red AGAINST BLUE!!'. awesome. gotta love that enthusiasm. at that moment i was relieved that we werent in real combat (hed clearly be way too trigger happy) and of course that i have a son who i hope to one day have running around with guns yelling at random strangers with the same adrenaline filled conviction.

also, i know williamsburg isnt that southern by southerners standards, but seriously...i have a suggestion for all of you southern drivers on the highway....are you listening? rain is not the same as ice and you are not driving sugar cubes. please stop flicking boogers on my happy place behind the wheel and proceed at the speed you were just lollygagging at prior to raindrops falling on your windshield. this is not dangerous. this is not reckless. it is actually keeping you safer because those of us just passing through are raging at your sudden braking over the precipitation.

after spending the afternoon and night at the winery, we were tired and thankful for malena, our rockstar server who not only gave us great service with free wine and cookies, but also safely delivered us all back to our hotel when our lame cabbie never showed. at this point we all wanted to put on fat pants and relax in our room. that would make sense. but like a group of convicts just escaped from prison, we didnt want to waste even a minute of our precious freedom. so we boarded the bus to abilene, called another cab and ventured downtown with some nice turkish driver from istanbul here on a student visa at william & mary. i know you dont care, but being the big loser that i am, and having just watched patrick spend an entire year working on his thesis on muslim extremists, i was actually really curious to know what this guy thought of the terror threats abroad, specifically the extremist views in his home country of turkey. thank goodness i had a fleeting moment of situational awareness and simply shut up and color. i find it thoroughly amusing that my situational awareness on my girls night out now keeps me from chatting up the cab driver with current topics as opposed to other things. lets just say we've come a long long way.

once comfortably seated on high barstools created for the arse of a 12 year old, we promptly ordered waters and some bar food. this began the 30 minute litany of complaints and criticisms of our server by each of us. he was rude, rushed, didnt make small talk and rarely visited our table. hmmm. after a brief moment of clarity it occured to me it could be because we are at a BAR....ordering WATER....with a server who is serving, bartending and probably trying to pick up the table of COLLEGE chicks over there. im going to go out on a flimsy limb here, but i think we could finally be moving beyond this stage of our life at last. i mean really, when our topic of conversation at a bar revolves solely around our crappy service, we may be out of our zone. so we ate our crappy food, drank our tap water and called mr. istanbul to pick us up. home sweet home by 11, just in time to catch 9 hours of sleep before hitting a pancake house. an altogether great weekend with the best of friends. and no rain on the way home. perfect.

7 am

patrick made coffee this morning as he has done countless mornings before. its not that im incapable (i did make it yesterday with jack on my hip, trying to feed him a bottle with one hand without dropping the holy grail of brew with the other), its just that its hard to make coffee when i havent had any yet. my judgment is blurred, my reflexes nonexistent, my ability to speak temporarily unavailable. yesterday was a perfect example...who really tries to hold a baby and a bottle in one hand and a huge pot of coffee in the other?? someone who is clearly not yet awake and is in desperate need of the bean, willing to risk dropping the baby or the coffee in a crazy attempt at multi tasking. my sister in law lisa, (who btw is full of valuable tidbits and insights that you actually WANT to hear) once wisely summed up new parenthood as not really that difficult. i mean really, how hard is it to keep a newborn (lets throw in colic free) baby happy? its not. but doing it with 2-4 hours of sleep...thats hard. im figuring out slowly but surely its always the factor you didnt think of that makes tasks the most challenging. like navigating your way via taxi with a significant language barrier between you and cabbie. and in my case and my days as of late, its the fatigue factor.


im blaming most of my fatigue on georgia who continues to summon us to her room at all hours of the night for the most obscure reasons. a few nights back she, in a rare switch that had me smiling, called for her DADDY at the top of her lungs. when he got to her room, he immediately scolded her, 'georgia, why are you yelling like that??' to which she replied, '2 things, daddy. 1, i love you. 2, could you please put my blankie back on me?' good thing hed done his stretches that day, otherwise it would have been difficult for him to wrap himself entirely around her little finger. im also blaming shark week on the discovery channel which i cannot seem to pull myself away from regardless of the predictability (of course the guy talking on camera didnt get eaten by a great white shark unless hes giving the interview in the afterlife) or the hour to which it lasts (most recently to midnight).

and ive always been a night person, able and eager to spin my wheels at all hours of the night but im realizing as of late that the little people have not only their dads amazing blue eyes but his inexplicable internal alarm clock as well. and this, in a horrifyingly unfair twist of fate, has my night owl self being beat down by the morning people in the house. i have always reserved early mornings for God and birds, neither of which needed my attention during those sleeping hours. but now...well, now theres God and birds and children, who incidentally do need my attention at all hours. so im thankful that some sleepy ancient incans or mayans or egyptians or some other 'ans' discovered the magical bean and then had the idea to grind it up, heat it up and drink it. i imagine with so few interesting things going on back then and so few tasty beverage choices, they really persevered with the coffee idea. and im so glad they did. and that while my husband is annoyingly chipper in the morning, hes also wonderfully capable and willing to brew the best pot of pure joy imaginable. im off to refill.

save second base

so this is one of my best friends, amy and i on the morning of the race for the cure. she is easily the most highly motivated person i know, always up for challenging herself and more than willing to find a few ways to challenge those around her (fortunately, not in that annoyingly overzealous way like richard simmons). years ago amy and suzy (who im sure ive mentioned on here before) ran a race in honor of my beautiful mama and her victory over breast cancer. since that time patrick has run one as well and yet, i, being reluctant to take on any real commitment to fitness in my life continued to watch the races come and go, reminding me just how much i wanted to participate, but never actually doing it. with my new goals in place i figured this was the year to finally run the race for the cure. its now been 13 years since my mom completed her last chemo treatment and the race was long overdue. this became THE year when amys amazing mother was diagnosed and began bravely battling breast cancer as well.

i cant help but feel like my moms cancer was a defining moment in my own life. At 18 in my first year of college while happily occupying the center of my own universe, i remember feeling invincible one minute and gripped with an all consuming fear the next. i attempted to make incredible deals with an incredible God always under the guise of 'if only You will take this from her, i will do (insert completely outlandish and impossible promise)'. at the time i remember feeling completely out of control and desperate, unable to shake the reality that there was absolutely nothing i could do to shape or shift the outcome of this reckless, indifferent and unsympathetic opponent. in an instant, i became the smallest and weakest person i knew on my knees begging God to just listen to me. to simply hear my cries and feel my overwhelming need for more time with my best friend. fortunately for me, who had laid out every possible promise to live an altogether perfect life rivaling that of mother theresa, in order to have my mothers life spared, God isnt really into deals. what He gives and what He takes away is not determined by my ability to emphatically beg, plead and promise.

after months of recovery, chemo and sickness, the prayers of anyone and everyone who has ever met my mother were answered and she was still with us. there will always be life before cancer and life after cancer in my mind. it completely shifted the terms in which i view life, the sacredness and joy of it as well as the potential brevity and injustice of it. before cancer i knew my mother was beautiful and kind, warm and patient, gentle and loving. i knew she embodied contentment and joy and had given me a glimpse into the kind of mother i hoped to be someday. after cancer i learned that in addition to what i knew to be true of her before, that she was also the strongest person i had ever known. and brave. and courageous. and hopeful and faithfilled and optimistic and unbelievably grateful. i remember her calming my fears and attempting to steady a foundation that i could feel shaking under me by reassuring me that 'if this cancer was the most challenging thing we ever faced as a family we were incredibly blessed.' and that the same God who was in control yesterday when life was cancer free is the same God in control today battling with us. these words and the loving wisdom that poured freely from them gave my weak and trembling soul hope. the kind of hope that was able to sustain me as i watched the chemo wreak havoc on her already sick body. the kind of hope that comforted me in the quiet moments of solitude when the tangible feeling of doubt surrounded me. she has always painted the future with broad strokes of hope and it is what i believe kept all of us looking ahead with the same optimism and faith in spite of the difficult journey.

it was during her months of chemotherapy that i began to see another hero emerge in my life. my father had always been brave and strong, honorable and wise, a man with conviction and integrity. and yet as i watched him stand along side her, sometimes with the strength of his love and commitment holding her up, i began to witness a love and adoration i didnt know could exist. i saw what for better or worse looked like, what in sickness and in health could mean. it was painful and exhausting, its toll brutal and yet, it was and is the most beautiful love i have ever seen. my parents get commitment and i am eternally grateful for the living example of it and for the profound impact it has left on my life and the legacy that will be passed on and on. and i wouldnt wish this disease on anyone. i would fall to me knees in an instant in prayers for you and yours to overcome this ugly threat and yet, it was through this unbearable disease that i came to see the entirety of the two most amazing people in the world, each possessing the strengths of the other and trusting in the same power of the same God regardless of the day.

so i ran. and ran. and ran. for you, mom. and for you, debby. and ill run again...to save second base, to save the ta tas, to find a cure and to hopefully spread hope in the meantime as i run in honor of you, mom, with your name proudly on my back.

duck duck goose

we are officially at the beach in duck, north carolina and after my first night of uninterrupted sleep i am feeling downright grand. ive heard that you are either a mountain person or an ocean person, a division so clear and easy to recognize it rivals the over or under camps of toilet paper rolls. and while i do know a few people who clearly fall into the mountain side of things, loving the hikes, the peaks and the views and then of course the beach freaks who long for the sand, surf and sound of the waves....i have to admit i feel like i have one foot firmly planted on both sides of this fence (no surprise to those of you who know my gemini split personality). i remember traveling through new zealand and feeling like God must have been showing off when He created the mountain ranges there and having the same feeling of wonder when i stood at an overlook in kaui gazing at the na'pali coast. it was the same feeling of awe and amazement. im fortunate to have had that feeling many times...patrick and i spent the first 5 years of 'we' traveling our tails off to as many awe inspiring places as possible finding heaven while diving the great barrier reef and in the views we took in skydiving over oahu's north shore.

but what im realizing most about my love affair with both sun and sky is that as hard as i may try to claim a strong affiliation with one, i simply cant betray the great love i have for the other. and i dont really want to. we spent some time at glacier national park a few years ago and extended our visit to check out realty in the area. i suggested that as much as we loved it there and as excited as pat was to buy our forever land, we might want to visit it in december just to make sure. needless to say, visiting montana in december doesnt have the same allure as it does in july and we have yet to return. theres also the element of height and our shared phobia that appeared while traveling on the road to the sun...pats white knuckles and inability to speak in complete sentences paired perfectly with my shortness of breath and verbal petitions to God to please keep us from falling off the edge. super fun. and yet, when we arrived at the top (with anxiety attacks behind us), we were ready to buy land and stay forever. the view and feeling of wonder was all consuming. i didnt even want to share it with a camera lens...i didnt want to squint one eye for even a moment and crowd the landscape in front of me. it was and is one of the most spectacular places in the world and i long for the day we can visit again.

but as much as i love the mountains, i could curl up next to the sound of waves and only be moved by the changing tide. i fell deeply in love with the half of the world that lives and thrives mostly in secret underwater when we started diving. i am completely captivated by the ocean, effortlessly drawn into the rhythm of the waves and wrapped in the warmth of the sun. i have freckles marking all of my dates with the ocean, one by one reminding me of time spent in its familiar company. they are evidence of times shared and memories made in the presence of one of my greatest loves. and so the beach beckons and i, eager to create more memories that will not fade over time, answer. only this time, the 'we' is much grander and much greater than before.

decisions decisions

let me throw out this quick disclaimer...after a month of craziness (busy in a good way) i have had zero time to blog. when i finally did squeeze in a few minutes my flippin blog deleted my post as i was posting it. therefore, as this is my second go at this post, there may some additional cynicism accompanying it. i am bitter to say the least that i lost my first post when spare time is the hottest and rarest commodity in my life right now. that being said, i recently had a big decision to make...one that had me weighing pros and cons, doing quick checks of the finances and discussing time management (or my lack there of) with patrick. i was weighing the option of hiring a housekeeper (how i long for korea days with ms.hong drying my jeans on high heat and waking gk with the unbelievably LOUD noise of the plastic bag that carried her dust rags), joining a massage club (a little weird and self indulgent, but SO tempting after gamal, the wonder egyptian gave me a fab massage recently) and finally a gym membership. what i wanted most was a couple of hours a month with gamal....where i wouldnt be thinking of the laundry that needed to be done or the muscle buried far below the layers of flub gamal was massaging. ive decided to work my way backwards...starting with the fat and working my way to the housekeeper and finally the reward of a massage club someday. however, in order for me to fully embrace the gym membership, i had to come to terms with several key issues and move beyond them.

i am certifiable when it comes to working out and dieting. i admit it. it has been a cycle of sorts over the course of the last 15 years that has drug me through bouts of self loathing and tendencies toward the extreme. of course 15 years ago i was trying to be a size 2-4...that would now only be achievable if i were willing to have one leg amputated and wear the size 2 jeans on my remaining limb and even those better be stretch denim. i realized in a moment of rare clarity that i have to completely change my perspective on the entire way ive been approaching this aspect of my life. for the life of me i cannot understand why being content with my body is so damn elusive...i am truly content in every other venue of my life with the exception of this. i find it horribly arrogant and self centered to focus on it and let it (with it being so trivial in the vast scope of life) occupy as many thoughts as it does and yet, its a struggle. part of my issue is how i have always viewed exercise...it has ALWAYS been a means to an end. always. for a dress, for a boy, for a bikini, for a vacation...you name it, if its shallow, its been a great motivator for yours truly. the problem with this (okay...many problems) is that once said shallow event or relationship has passed, i go back to slugging my way through life and relying only on occasional adjustments in diet to drop the pounds. that being confessed, this is my new mantra...at least its the one i am trying to convince myself of when i feel those self loathing thoughts come up.

i will choose to view exercise as a blessing...how lucky am i to be healthy enough to work out?? there are SO many people who would love to have the opportunity to run but are unable to for a variety of reasons. and my reasons are the lamest of lames....dont feel like it, too tired, choose to not make the time, dont feel like washing my hair today...the list goes on and on. the second part of my mantra is that regardless of the results (how timely or not) i will do this for a year. with the goal of five times a week. ugh. all this being said the most important part of working out is the wardrobe. so i bought new clothes to make myself look like im a worker outer even though my out of breathness will sell me out within a few minutes. i dont need to buy new running shoes because the ones i bought 4 years ago have conveniently only been worn a handful of times for marathons...of the shopping sort.

once the big decision was made, the new threads were ready and my new mantra was playing in my head, i decided i needed to seek some professional help (read someone to hold me accountable and force me to show up). so i met with the super fit fitness manager who discussed with me a few concepts...the first being that this would take sometime and the second being that it would be hard work. great. my two least favorite things. he insisted on setting goals (something i typically resist doing...like i really need tangible benchmarks to fail at) with the short term goal of fitting into a closet full of clothes (even while knowing that once i fit into all of them again, i will still continue to rotate between black and white crews and jeans i cant remember washing) and the long term goal of making this part of my life a habit. so i signed up for a race, hired kathy the wonder trainer and got to work. once super fit fitness guy had assessed my goals and mental health he matched kathy and i up. she has assured me that over time, a lot of people experience a runners high...im beginning to think she may have a drug problem herself.

with lots of progress to be made, kathy and i began the death march toward health and fitness. she is fabulous, really and very knowledgeable with a wide stocked arsenal of pain inducing moves. ive seen her smile once and i believe with enough time i could squeeze a laugh out of her, but what shes really a master at is carrying an entire conversation on her own. similar to a dentist chatting you up with your mouth pried open, kathy can hold down an entire conversation while i simply sweat and catch my breath wondering the entire time how she can really talk and keep track of reps at the same time. its very impressive to say the least and a skill that im sure only comes after years of watching countless victims struggle to talk while completely distracted by the fire that is racing through every muscle in their body. i dont think i can recall any part of any conversation we have ever had...and we've been meeting for 5 weeks. its not that im uninterested, im just a wee bit preoccupied with the level of concentration i have to simply not fall over and quit breathing. yep, its been fun.

so, im on my way. im running 20-30 miles a week and lifting a few times as well to try and build that muscle that will hopefully be unveiled at a later date when the cardio has done its job. there will be more on this to follow...like how ive chased those unruly exercise balls all over the mats or how ive memorized the exact location of the emergency stop button on the treadmill.