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Shopaholics amnotathis

/ Outrunning my demons / 6 Comments

I have a confession to make…I hate shopping!

I can almost hear your collective gasp…

I don’t own a million pairs of shoes.

Maybe it’s the bright lights. I feel blinded when I walk into the store. Then the changing rooms! There is nothing like trying on clothing while in a bright spotlight that highlights your every blemish and flaw. Seriously, maybe stores would sell more clothes if the rooms were dimly lit. But that makes me think of a swanky run down lingerie store with one buzzing flickering light bulb. You just can’t seem to win that one!

Then there is always the mother with tons of crying kids…Do you need to get out that bad?..the elderly health nuts that use the mall as a track for fast walking…Can you not afford a gym membership??…The teens that are trying to look cool…Do I have time to do a survey??…Would I like a “free” sample??…Messy changing rooms…Long check out lines…Aarg..

Plus shopping is sooo boring. Rack after rack and row after row of boring drab garb that lacks inspiration.

Oh, and my ex-boyfriend Brad owns a sword kiosk at the mall. There’s that! I have seen him there before and quickly walked by looking in the other direction. Sometimes I imagine Paul and Brad swirling around the mall in a sword fight. Now that would be exciting.. I probably would need something new to wear for that.. Hmmm.. Yeah, no..

Maybe I don’t like shopping because my mom would take me clothes shopping for 12 hours straight when I was a kid. She always made me try on ugly clothes that she thought were sooo cute. Then if they fit, she would buy half of them. I would end up carrying heavy bags of clothes I didn’t even like around the mall for hours. I would go home sore and miserably exhausted.

I always felt guilty when my mom would buy things for me. I still feel guilty about buying things today regardless of whether I can afford it or not. Do I really need this?? I know the one I have is falling apart, but there is duct tape. Okay, maybe I am not that extreme..

Do I $80 like how this dress looks on me? Probably not.

I don’t like grocery shopping either…

Online shopping, barely tolerable.. I could sit and think about what color to choose for hours and by the time I decide, the item is gone..

But I had to break down this week and go shopping at the mall with Paul for dress clothes. He apparently does not know how to match clothing. Also, I’ve heard that athletic shorts and old race shirts don’t exactly make for proper business attire. Our sales guy said that he was sick of seeing Paul in the same old dress clothes that he has been wearing for years…

Paul will be traveling a lot this next month. It all starts this weekend with a conference on the west coast, then a few weeks after that he will be flying out for a meeting on the east coast. In between all of this there are trade show booths and public speaking.

I had to take one for the team. But I had a little help. I violated my general principle of no drinking during the week and went on a beer flight. Cindy said that having a few cocktails always helps her tolerate Christmas shopping. Not bad advice since I find shopping to be a mild form of torture.

I am happy to say that I made it through shopping with my husband (who hates shopping too)!

Then, after I got home, my son came up to me and said that we needed to go shopping for dress clothes for homecoming. Twice in one week!!

I hope I survive!

And so it begins…

/ Outrunning my demons / 1 Comment

It happened this past weekend. I was hoping with my last child I would have just a little more time..

Angel has been dating her boyfriend for almost 3 years.. Alex has had a girlfriend for the last 4 months…Thankfully, I approve of their choices!

I imagined Arabella staying single and living at home forever….hmmm… Maybe this type of thinking is an irrational coping mechanism?? Why can’t time just stop for a little while??

My friend Cindy was over this past weekend. One of her son’s is two days younger than Arabella. A group of neighborhood kids decided to go for a bike ride. One of the boys admitted to Cindy’s son that he has a crush on Arabella. Or maybe it was more of a ‘stay away I like her’ kind of thing.

Cindy’s son told Arabella that this boy has a crush on her. Arabella confronted this boy about his feelings towards her. The poor guy got so flustered that he steered his bike right into the ditch. He was crashed, crushed, hurt, and full of dirt calling out for his mother.

Arabella only likes him as a friend.

And so it begins…

Reel to real

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I awoke Saturday morning to the steady beat of pounding rain. I wanted to go back to sleep but signed up to do a 20 mile bike ride as part of a fundraiser for our church. For a brief moment, I had an internal struggle while watching the rain fall from my window. There was a brisk north wind and the temperature plummeted overnight.

Then I thought of my friends that were doing the Iron Man this weekend and my cousin that was running a 100k overnight while I spent the night sleeping. Reluctantly, I rubbed my bleary eyes and got up.

It was the least I could do for my church, right??

Once I got to the church, I paired up with another parishioner who decided to bike 20 miles. I eyed her skeptically to see if she would keep up with me since she was over ten years older than me. The funny thing is that she taught me a thing or two how to be a better bike rider while I struggled to keep up with her.

One big mistake that I made was deciding to wear a cheap plastic rain poncho to keep dry. The poncho flapped in the wind like a loose sail. It made a lot of noise and slowed me down. I ended up borrowing the other woman’s jacket at her insistence which I was rather embarrassed about. The ride went well despite the off and on rain. I checked 20 miles off my bucket list.

After the morning festivities, Paul and I spontaneously invited Ted and Cindy over for the rest of the day. It was Ted’s birthday, we had them over to grill out and have a fire even though we had plans to sail with them the following day.

Now, about the fire… A few weeks ago my mom gave me a box filled with my birth announcement, letters, birthday cards from the first two years of life, pictures, and a reel to reel of my first birthday that I need to check out. She gave this box to me right before my daughter left home. It seemed like a very hard time to go through this box.

After Angel left I did open the box. It was filled with cards from people that were long deceased, divorced, or people that I didn’t even know. I read a few letters, some mentioned the struggle between going back to work and staying home. Others talked of new recipes.

Letters seem so strange to me now. They seem so simple with talk of everyday life…baptisms…a new pair of shoes…food.. Maybe it is really not all that different if I printed off old emails or looked at everyone’s posts for the month on Facebook.

We are flooded with so much information day to day in our modern world, that maybe I just tune out things I deem as unimportant without realizing it.

A few things struck me from this box. One letter to my mother said that her life would never be the same again. That much was true, very true.

I also found some pictures of my mom right before she delivered me. My mother being as modest as she is was completely mortified. I called her and asked her if she actually looked through everything in the box before she gave it to me. She asked me to burn the pictures. There is a part of me that wishes that I never said anything because she was so young, beautiful, and full of life… Really it was nothing inappropriate or to be ashamed of…but to her it was an embarrassing reminder of younger days..

Saturday night I had a fire at my house. I burned away every trace of my mother’s life right before it changed forever..

Enjoying the present

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I decided to not audition for the next community theater musical. 

Oh, I am not afraid of being on stage. I have many fears, but that is not one of them. I find public speaking and performing fascinating. 

I decided to give it up to watch Angel perform in her first college concert. She told me that she was going to be given solos that are only typically given to seniors. Watching your child perform is as exciting as performing yourself with a lot less work. 

I wish my grandma was alive to see her perform. Angel and I got my grandma’s voice. I feel very sad that I don’t have a recording of my grandma singing. With an 8th grade education, my grandma never had the opportunity to use her gift. She never sang in a choir or sang a solo in public, but she could’ve been an opera singer. She just sang to soothe her tired or crying grandchildren or in church with everyone else. The only thing she was able to do was to pass it on to future generations.

This past weekend, I was looking through old pictures with Arabella. She wanted to know who was holding her in a photo. She didn’t recognize my grandma. My children don’t know much about some of the most influential people in my life. My grandparents, Uncle Harold, and Aunt Grace shaped me into the person that I am today. 

This weekend we took the dock out of water up north. It is sad to say good-bye to the cabin until next May. My great-grandparents built the cabin in the 1950’s. What a gift! But after reflection I found that I didn’t know a lot about the giver.

I know small tidbits about my great-grandparents. Little facts, but nothing about who they really were. I know for a fact that I couldn’t pick out the pictures of all of my greats if they were in a lineup with other photos. I might have their nose, but not know them..

How soon we are forgotten. Time moves so fast. When I was a child, a day seemed long. Now a day is nothing. 

These have been my thoughts lately. 

I am so thankful for the gifts passed on to me, but so sad that I know nothing of the gift giver. It is a strange type of nostalgia. I don’t want their memory to fade like an old picture in an album. But I can’t seem to grasp onto them anymore.

Instead, I will enjoy the present…the gifts we have been given. 

There will always be another play. 

Summer, don’t leave me too!

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The Canadian geese are flying south. Just like that a light switch was turned off. Summer is ending.

I always have a hard time this time of year. It’s not that I don’t like the changing of the seasons. It’s just that I live for summer. I love the warm weather and sunshine.

Now all of my kids are back in school. I had to say good-bye to my oldest child for the first time when I sent her off to college. It wasn’t just like saying good-bye to a child, it was saying good-bye to a friend. Over the past few years, the active parenting ended and a friendship began. I hope it will be like that with all of my children.

Out of all of the people living on this Earth, my daughter Angel is the most like me. She looks just like me. She has my mannerisms. We have very similar personalities, viewpoints, morals, and taste. We are both firstborns. We relate on all levels. Sometimes I think that she is an unjaded version of me. She is what I could’ve been. People have asked before if she is my clone. It was hard to let go.

My son Alex takes after my side of the family in everything but looks. Because of this, I understand him. Arabella is completely alien to me. We have nothing in common. To be totally honest, this has been a struggle for me. Sometimes we clash instead of click. It just doesn’t seem fair!

The morning after dropping off Angel at college, my husband went away on a week long sailing trip with friends. He will be back home tonight. This has made things more stressful for me at home and at work.

At first, I was fine. It seems like it takes me a few days to process my emotions.

Monday the anxiety and worry hit me hard. It probably didn’t help that I checked my phone before going to bed and noticed that Alex was not at his friend’s house that he was staying overnight at. Apparently they got bored and decided to aimlessly drive around much to my disappointment since I was the one filling up the tank with gas.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I waited until Alex got back to his friend’s house on my phone. Then I still couldn’t sleep because I stirred up the demon of my relationship with my dad. I didn’t realize that it upset me as much as it did. Of course, it is probably not wise to stir up painful moments in my life when I am feeling so emotional about my daughter leaving. My anxiety was through the roof and it kept me from sleeping most of the night.

The next morning I felt exhausted and depressed. I had to man the office by myself all day. Work was very busy and I didn’t feel like doing it. When I feel that way, I want to give up everything. I want to quit running. I want to stop blogging. I want to curl up in a ball and totally shut down. I will never do that though, somehow my mind beats out my heart every time. I don’t let myself shut down or even relax.

I will never give up this blog without telling people I am leaving. I am one of the least impulsive people I know. I am cold and calculating. I am schedule and routine. I am all or nothing. I overthink and underfeel. Like it or not, that is how I am. Yet somehow I can still manage to be fun.

Change has always been difficult for me, even if it is for the better. I have accepted that my daughter left home. It has to be a good thing for me because it is good for her.

Now I just have to accept that summer is over. This weekend we are shutting down the cabin for the season. The water will soon be too cold to swim in. By next month, we will be taking the sailboat out of water. The first few flurries will start to fall. My long outdoor runs will have to take place indoors on a treadmill.

Summer, please don’t leave me too!!

But I can’t look at it that way!

I have to be happy that my daughter is starting the future of her dreams. I still have other kids at home to bond with. I am married to a wonderful, adventurous man.

I have to look forward to crisp autumn days. Cool evenings spent in my hot tub gazing at the stars. Bonfires with friends. Photographing the beauty of the trees changing color. Reading cold psychological thrillers wrapped in a warm blanket. And having plenty of time to write…

Saying goodbye to Angelique Hope

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It is finished.

I survived!

It wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be. 

The hardest part of dropping off my newly turned adult daughter at college was watching her say goodbye to her younger sister. They hugged. Angel told Arabella to call her if she needs any advice. She told her to enjoy having her own room. A few tears threatened to escape when they told each other how much they will miss each other. 

Now why couldn’t they get along that well before??

For the first time in over a decade, I will be actively parenting only 2 children!

We woke up before dawn to pack all of Angel’s belongings, including her beta fish, into our truck. It was an 8 hour round trip for Paul and I. I am totally exhausted tonight, so this will have to be quick.

It was an emotional day. 

Bittersweet. 

It was hard to say goodbye. Hard to keep things together. 

I wanted to keep her forever. Instead, I let go of her hand today. 

It was okay. I know she is where she was meant to be doing what she is supposed to do. She is happy, healthy, smart, full of faith, and makes good decisions. What more could I want?

It is going to take some time before I don’t expect a response when I call out her name. 

She is not here anymore.

But my house is not empty.

I still have other children to raise..

I know she will be okay.

I will be okay too.

The end – 911, poison control, and other parenting mishaps

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I called 911 once, but the call never went through.

I made the call from a big clunky cordless phone that sporadically worked. 

I am so glad the call didn’t go through. It would’ve been so embarrassing. I couldn’t imagine having to explain how my daughter’s finger got stuck in the toilet.

Well, it wasn’t exactly like that.

My mom gave Angel a toilet piggy bank when she was potty training. Everytime she went potty, she was allowed to put a coin into the toilet bank and it would make a flushing sound. Except on that one day when she put her finger into the bank instead of a coin. Her finger got stuck and I failed to get her finger out. I even failed at calling 911. It was terrible. Angel was screaming, her finger was swelling, and then she started to shake.

I immediately went into tunnel vision panic mode. My IQ dropped 50 points instantly. My daughter and I were hysterical. 

If you think that I am a nurse, doctor, or EMT…please stop….. Could you imagine?? Ha hahaha. 

I eventually discovered that I could release her finger by pushing down on the lever instead of trying to pull it out which locked it.

It’s a total wonder that Angel survived her childhood. 

Tomorrow we are dropping her off at college. We are saying goodbye to our firstborn for the first time. 

I have been anxious about this moment all week. Will I remain cool, calm, and collected as I wave goodbye for the last time? Will I be a weeping, hysterical mess of a person? I am afraid. I am not one for public weeping or making scenes.. Will I be heartless if I keep it together? Or will I be a slobbering raccoon eyed mess? 

When my kids were little, I told myself that I would keep a journal of everything that happened. 

I remember when Angel had many imaginary friends. One of them was named Volleyball. She was so upset when Uncle Luke told her that he got hit in the head with a volleyball. How could her friend do such a thing? Now I’m taking her to college…

Alex used to draw cute little stick people with big heads and eyes. He used to cry when he heard “monster” trucks go by because he was afraid of the monsters growling in the trucks. He was such a mama’s boy. Now all of his little drawing are put away in storage, he is driving, and he wants nothing to do with me…

Arabella used to drive us all crazy by pretending she was a cat. She would meow and crawl around on her hands and knees.. Now she is a teenager too.

Where did the time go?? I feel so bad that I never did write in my journal like I wanted to. I could’ve filled it with so many things.. Memories that are now fading or forgotten..

I did the best parenting job that I could. I don’t have any regrets.

At the theater, left and lost

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My husband lost his wedding ring this week.

You are probably wondering why he took it off in the first place. It almost seems sacreligious to take off your wedding ring the first ten years of marriage, even to clean it. We are way beyond that now. We are on the second ring that needs replacing for him.

Paul played the main character the last couple weekends at the community theater. The character he was portraying was a single guy. He slipped the ring off his finger and slid it into his wallet. Then it fell out who knows where.  

It wasn’t the first time a hobby of his claimed a wedding ring. The first time he went fishing and had to walk up a steep bank. He tripped and caught himself with his hand. The ring cracked and was unwearable. It was a cheap ring, all of the money went into my ring. I still have his broken ring though. 

After it broke, Paul decided to go without his wedding band for awhile. Then he got hit on by countless women. He was on a sales call one time and a single woman invited him out for cocktails later on that evening. It happened so many times that I thought it was time to crack the bank and announce to the world that he was not on the market anymore. 

We’ll see what happens this time.

It wasn’t the first thing lost at the theater either. Someone could make a lot of money on theater art, a display consisting of items or props left behind at the theater after a show. Theaters tend to have very interesting lost and found boxes if you ever checked.

My daughter Angel lost her retainer at the theater years ago. It has never been found. I have to say that at least she wore her retainer like she was supposed to.

My son went in this week to have his retainer check at the ortho. After not wearing it for almost a year, he wore it the whole day before his appointment and suffered through the pain. Wouldn’t it just be easier to wear it every once in awhile?? But he is the type not to hand in assignments or apply himself in school then stay up all night studying for the final so he doesn’t fail the class. Doesn’t make any sense to me. I try to get tomorrow’s things done yesterday.

Who know? Maybe the ring will show up before having to buy a new one. I have given up on the retainer though.

Sibling bond(age)

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My husband grew up as an only child. (How nice!!!). He made a comment that he would give anything to have had siblings. In which I retorted that I would give anything not to have siblings. As the oldest, there was a year and a half that I was an only child. Problem is, I don’t have any recollection of that time. 

I wouldn’t wish my siblings away, but I always wondered what it would be like.

Paul and I both have ‘the grass is greener on the other side’ mentality regarding siblings. Paul recounted being lonely and not having anyone to play with. My idea of being an only child is one of ice cream, candy, and all of the Christmas gifts. Never having to share. Getting all of the attention. Paul’s idea of having a sibling is like being with a good friend all the time that you can play with and talk to. There are a few sibling relationships out there like that. I totally envy them.

What I hear more of is all of the problems. It starts early… Fighting over toys. Feeling like your parents have favorites. Fighting over their time and resources. Who got more birthday or Christmas gifts. Even fighting over possessions after your parents are gone. Or petty fights and jealousies. Who has more money. Who is better looking. Who is smarter. Who is better. The list goes on for most families I know.

Deny it all you want, but we can never stop being compared to our siblings by ourselves or others.

Let’s just say that having siblings makes life more complicated and perhaps more interesting.

Our discussion last night about siblings was a hot button issue with me. I am not even sure why. I think it is probably because my siblings lives have had such a strong impact on mine. 

There have been some really good times. However, most of my strong emotions are tied to the disappointments and hurts. 

Paul has no idea what sibling relationships are like. A lot of times he asks me if our kids sibling relationship is normal.

When we had children, I hoped that my kids would be best friends. Even knowing what I already knew, I still longed for that. It didn’t happen. 

It is amazing how many different personalities can co-exist under one roof. Even though my kids were raised the same way, they are totally different. They even have temperaments or personality traits similar to that of our parents and my siblings which creates very interesting dynamics. Especially if your relationship with the person they remind you of is less than perfect.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I would have been an only child. 

I am willing to bet that most of you are like either Paul or I, wondering what life would be like on the other side. 

Or maybe, just maybe, you are lucky enough to have the perfect sibling (that you actually like). Or had the best of both worlds by being an only child long enough to enjoy having a way younger sibling.

  

Trying to get clean – 911, poison control, and other parenting mishaps

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It always seemed strange to me that my kids schedule has always been misaligned with mine.

In the earlier years of parenting three little kids, I was in my 20’s and still longed to sleep in. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to sleep in until 9 AM! But my kids were always up around 6 AM or some crazy hour!

Then the middle childhood years hit and for a brief overlap, our schedules entwined. No one got up particularly early or stayed up too late.

Now I am in my 40’s and the mother of three teenagers. I can’t seem to sleep in much past 6 for the life of me! It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed. My teens like to stay up until all hours of the night. They ask what time they need to be home at night. I always say 10 PM. Why?? Because that is the time that I want to go to bed! I seriously need my beauty sleep because the older I get the earlier morning comes. This is another thing I never thought would happen to me.

Where am I going with this story??!?

When my kids were little, I didn’t want to get up at 5 AM to take a shower. So if I was lucky enough to take a shower, I would sometimes try to get it in during nap time. Yes, there were times I had to have my baby right next to me while I showered. I remember being a nursing mom with a crying baby outside the shower next to me. It wasn’t very much fun and seemed counterproductive.

That was my reality in those days.

One day I decided to take a shower at nap time. After stepping out of the shower, I thought I heard a noise. I wrapped in a towel and opened the door to explore. Sure enough, I saw Arabella open the front door and run out of the house. My 2 year old was heading towards the road. I chased her down the driveway in nothing but a towel screaming like a banshee. What a fun game mom is playing today! My shrieks got louder as Arabella approached the street which stopped her in her tracks.

When I see new moms walking around grocery stores in their pajamas, I understand.

When did showering and self-care become an act of selfishness anyway??

Of course, those days are long behind me now.