My time

Just came back from a 2+ hour workout. This is not like going to the gym. This is martial arts for 2 hours or more. Classes, sessions, learning, growing, enjoying. I am an admitted clockwatcher. I have been my whole life. When do we leave? How much time do I have? When is class done? I watch the clock so much, I can read it backwards in the mirror. I found myself doing that today. And somewhere after the first hour, I stopped. I stopped watching the clock and started watching myself. I paid attention to my feet, my knees, my back, my arms. Everything I was doing became my focus. And I loved it. I enjoyed every single second when I stopped watching the clock and focused on my time.


Unfamiliar place

I’m sitting here, in an unfamiliar place. Hotel rooms all look the same but I’ve never been here. The place, the event, the reasons, the feelings, the whole thing for the next four days will put me in an unfamiliar place. I’ll know some of the people, but not all. I’ll worry a bunch. I’ll mess up, forget stuff, remember stuff, and try again. But I’ll still be in an unfamiliar place. I have made it to master’s camp. I’m invited to test. But I have not fully “arrived.” I’m in an unfamiliar place.

All I want to say, and can’t

I wish you understood me.

I wish you looked at things from other’s point of view.

I wish you were giving and not selfish.

I wish you understood.

I beat to my own drum, always have, always will.

I have no time for judgements, no time for scorn.

I give my all, and try all the time.

I wish you would just accept who I have become.

I have chosen something different for myself, something you don’t agree with.

I wish you knew I wasn’t turning my back on you.

I want you to know that I took all those lessons and decided.

I decided what fit in my beliefs and views of the world.

I wish you understood that I am a success because of you.


Sitting here catching up on my DVR. I am usually a bit behind on shows, but that doesn’t bother me. Paul, my husband, is the same way. He will record the Bears game and avoid the radio and phone calls until he can watch it later that night. I will check the score so I know what type of mood he will be in when the game is over. So tonight, Monday night, I am catching up on Saturday Night Live.

Resting angry face

Today was celebration number 2 of 4 for the kids birthdays. She is 13 tomorrow, he is 10 on Wednesday. Today was family party day. I have a lot on my mind. Besides the stress of hosting family, some of whom are very judgmental, I also leave for a huge karate thing on Wednesday. My to-do list is getting longer, my time at home is shorter, the stress is building. Granted I put a lot of pressure on myself for everything to go well, so some of it is my fault. Today my aunt and my sister both asked if everything was alright. Apparently I have resting angry face. I was engaging in conversation without a problem, but when left to sitting quietly, subconscious thoughts must have changed my facial expressions. So to my family, I apologize. I am NOT angry with any of you. I tried to get to talking with all of you. I am very distracted, stressed, and out of sorts right now. I love you all and I will work on my resting angry face.

Movie time

It is late again and I find myself pondering my slice. I lay on my couch, a movie that I don’t want to see but my husband had picked out playing in the background. He has chosen Darkest Hour. Any movie he sees is on WW2 he will insist on watching. A few weeks ago it was Dunkirk. Too many times I have sat through these docu-dramas, or historical fiction productions that I have no interest in. I would prefer a good Jason Bourne, Thor, or some action flick. This movie I affectionately call mindless entertainment. I don’t have to think, I can just watch and enjoy. If I fall asleep, I am NOT confused when I wake up. So here I lay, with the movie playing in the background, slicing to all of you so I can halfway pay attention to a movie I have no interest in.

Today and tonight

Today was the day I thought I had no slice. I sat at the computer staring blankly at the curser, waiting for inspiration, trying to force my sluggish mind to come up with something, some moment, some triggered memory of importance to share. Then I walked away. I have all day, and other things to do. Other more important things to do.

Tonight I have my slice. A memory I will cherish forever. My daughter turns 13 on Monday and today she had friends over. She wanted tacos and rollerskating, so we kept it simple: make your own taco bar and head to the roller rink for an hour and a half, followed by cupcakes. But, while I love this memory, this is not my slice.

My slice is of an almost 10 year old boy, learning to skate with his mama, holding so tightly to her hand she has bruises. His wobbly, shaky legs going out from under him on more than a hundred occasions. Back up he goes, clutching her hand until he stands up straight, shuffling forward on his skates. He only goes part-way around before he leaves the circle to try again. Gathering his courage and working on his confidence until he decides he is ready to do the full loop. Around they go, him falling, her encouraging and cheering him on. He is not coordinated, but he tries so hard, never once saying he couldn’t do it. But he goes again and again and again, and he falls again and again and again, smiling and trying. And at the end of the night, it is this moment that she will remember, couples skating with her boy, teaching him how to move on wheels. He wants to go back and so does she.

Not old enough

Tomorrow marks the first of a few celebrations over the next few days. Tomorrow my oldest has friends over to celebrate turning 13. Yes you heard right…..I have hit teenage years. I am NOT old enough for this.

Sunday is a family party to celebrate both kids. 1 is 13, the other 10. Yes, we have officially hit double digits. I have no more babies and definitely feel that I am NOT old enough for this.

Monday is her official turn 13 birthday. Wednesday is his official turn 10 birthday. And sometime in the next week or so he will have friends over for an epic Nerf battle. Still, I am NOT old enough for this.

I still remember bringing them home. I still remember first words, first steps, first everything. I feel young, I feel ready to take on the world, and I have 2 NOT babies who are taking on the world with me. My grandma taught me that age is just a number. Well I hope she is right because I choose to NOT be old enough.

It’s the end of the world

Awhile back there was a show on tv about what life would be like if we had no electricity. I am almost living that life.

Try to work from home, no internet. Ok, I’ll go do my volunteer time at my kid’s school and it will be back on when I get home. Wrong!! Still no internet. Call comcast… voice says no service until 2. I’ll head into work and work there instead of here. But first, make my lunch. Try to turn on the tv for background noise…..No tv. That service is attached to the internet. Stupid Comcast….outage took that out too. Ok. Alexa to the rescue. Nope. She doesn’t understand me because that is also internet based. So now I’m making my lunch in a crazy, quiet house so that I can go into work, while using my phone data to put this post out there. All because something electronic needs to work. Plus side, I just turned on the dishwasher and it works…..So we haven’t hit the dark ages around here yet.

Last night

Last night I posted a story….a reminder of sorts of a long ago time with my son. I hit publish and then my daughter walks in the room and says, “Mom, I need sand for school tomorrow.” Say what? This sounds like it should have been my slice tonight….It is 8:30pm in March…..where am I going to find sand? I text her father to see if he had ideas or can stop somewhere. Nope, nothing.

Then inspiration hits. For the past few years, we have gone to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina on vacation. He asks where we kept all the shells we have collected over the years. Down to the basement we go, digging out shoe boxes filled with ziploc baggies of shells…..and at the bottom of each bag is sand. We have just won parents of the year, just by cutting a small hole in those bags and squeezing out sand like you would icing from a tube. And she went to school with a baggie of sand…..hopefully it was enough for her project.