I'm Running Away

I want to participate in National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo), but I'm not really good at that kind of thing. So, I started another blog. I've been writing a lot lately. Thing is, by the time I get it out and read back through it, I usually feel like it's either not worth publishing or not appropriate to publish.

The three usual things I write about aren't working right now.

1. I love Jesus, but anything I've written about my faith lately seems to come out preachy, fake or so controversial I would never live it down in my personal life. When God inspires me to write something that is actually worth reading and something I feel needs to be said no matter the personal consequences, I'll share.

2. I love my kids and my family, but writing about them doesn't come easy. Our lives are pretty boring, like they're supposed to be. School, work, sports, dirty dishes, the usual stuff.

3. I love food, and this blog was started partially around my son's allergy to corn. Thing is, I just don't experiment and cook like I used to. Besides the occasional post about kale from my mom's garden, I have nothing to share. And then there's running.

I love to run.
I love to talk about running.
I love to read about running.
I love to write about running.
I love running.
I love buying and trying new running gear, especially running shoes.
I love running medals.
I love inspiring people to run.
I love pushing fellow runners to go farther or faster.
I think everyone should try it, but I don't recall ever picking on anyone for NOT running. Well, maybe except for my husband, but that's a topic for another day.

Running is hard, and it hurts when you first start out and whenever you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Its a constant learning process and your body revolts every now and then. It isn't for everyone, but it's definitely for me. And, many of my favorite people are runners. Actually, I've never met another runner I didn't like. There's an instant connection through this crazy obsession with running that trumps all other differences. Now, I haven't yet decided if it's the type of personality that enjoys running that makes the connection so easy or if it's the act of running that makes people more connectable. Either way, I think runners are just super cool people.

So, I'm starting a new blog about running, and I'm going to try to do this whole blog every day thing with one topic I am clearly obsessed about.

We'll see how it goes.

I Love Books

It's one of those rainy cool fall days here. The kind that is perfect for a fire, a window, a comfy chair, a hot beverage of some sort and a good book. I love books. It is such a beautiful thing how someone can weave together simple little words to create an alternate reality filled with fascinating characters, mystical objects, heroes and villains, far off lands and odd places. It's one of my favorite human talents. Authors might as well be super heroes to me. What they do is truly magical.

This fascination probably started when I was a child. My mom used to read to me and my brothers at bed time. I remember being ushered off to dreamland to the beautiful words of Tolkien, Bunyan and Lewis. I still have images in my head from each volume. Many of the characters are as real to me as actual people. The stories are like fond memories but more fantastic and adventurous. I love how something so simple and ordinary can transform into something so magical. She read. I listened. And, I'm still inspired today by many of those quiet moments spent curled up together.

I've read to my children since before they were born. Jacob heard the entire Bible between my first doctor's appointment and his first breath, all in my voice. Until he got "too big" for bed time, I read to him every night, often hearing him ask, "just one more." Sometimes he joins us now, and sometimes he doesn't, but Allie, Jackson and I try to read every night we're able.

When we're busy and I'm hurried at bedtime, I often wish I could just send the kids to bed and head up to tuck them in when I was ready. But, they beg to read. I just can't say no, especially when they hurry to get everything done so I have no reason to deny them.

Jackson asks me to "sit really close so he can hear my voice better." He and I are reading Around the World in 80 Days right now. Jacob thinks it's boring because there are no battle scenes or gross humor, and Allie can't believe there are no princesses. But, Jackson loves it. Jacob gets to pick the next book, perhaps we'll start The Lord of the Rings, and he'll come to read with us again.

The pages come to life for me, although for an entirely different reason these days. The light in their eyes when a train full of passengers jumps a canyon river or a woman is rescued from a burning funeral pyre and the wondering and calculation on their precious faces as the heroes race against the clock to reach home before their time expires, I love it.

I think it's a little like a workout. I often feel like I don't have time and wish I could just skip it, but I never regret it after. In a fast world made up more of quantity than quality, it's a rare, slow, magical moment with these sweet little people who won't be little much longer.

I hope they will one day look back and remember Hobbits and wizards, pilgrims and talking animals as if they were childhood playmates, and I hope they will carry on the tradition with their own children.

Someday, I'll curl up in my chair next to a fire with my chai and a book and read to myself. I'm sure there will still be magic, just not the same kind. That kind, hopefully, will be found at bedtime in my children's homes as they read to their own little ones. Maybe they'll let me join in on occasion and share in the magic, and maybe they'll read to me when my eyes grow too dim to make out the words. I hope so. I love books.

Pumpkin Pie Smoothie

So, I'm meeting myself coming and going these days, but I HAD to share this recipe! To celebrate Fall and all things pumpkin, I made a Pumpkin Pie Smoothie for lunch today, and it did not disappoint.

1 Cup Plain Kefir

1/2 Cup Pumpkin Purée

1/2 Banana, frozen

1 Tbsp Pecans (I mash mine before I put them in)

2 Tbsp Sweetened Condensed Milk

1/2 tsp Vanilla Extract

1/4 tsp Cinnamon

Mix it and blend it.

This fits perfectly in my single serve blender cup.

I used this as a post workout, meal replacement smoothie. It's approximately 410 calories with about 20 grams of protein. Using the sweetened condensed milk adds 22 grams of sugar. I'm sure I could lighten this up if I wanted to, just by replacing that with something lower in sugar, but like I said, this was post workout and lunch for me. And, I'm not eating pumpkin without a sweetener. :-)

For the pumpkin, I used canned purée, (not the pie filling, just the pumpkin), and I froze it in mini muffin tins so I had little blocks for the smoothie machine. You could do the same with ice cube trays. If you've ever made your own baby food, you know all about this technique. You'll use about 4-5 cubes per smoothie. I'm planning to try a sweet potato version of this, and I'll cook and mash them myself. Pumpkins are tough, and the canned stuff is just easy. I'm all about easy. Also, I freeze my bananas in halves so I have them for smoothies, and they help make it nice and thick.

If you like pumpkin, I think you'll like this smoothie.

Happy Fall, Y'all!

Naked in Public

I'm in the gym of one of my kids' schools working a table at open house with several other moms. This open house isn't like the usual ones at the beginning of the year. It's busier, and there's food and tables and lots of parents and kids eating and talking. It's more like the Thanksgiving feast than the beginning of the year open house, except everyone is in shorts and flip flops. Well, everyone but me, that is. Handing out some pertinent information on a sheet of paper I hadn't read, I look down and notice, I'm not wearing any clothes. Buck naked in the gym of a Christian, homeschool hybrid academy, I panic and run to the restroom, somehow scoring an outfit. I return to my post, only, I'm naked again. This happens several times before I wake very thankful it was only a dream.

It's probably 3am. I don't know because the clock numbers are too small and too far away for me to see them from my bed, and I don't want to check my phone. I'm just guessing since that's my usual 'wake up and have trouble going back to sleep' time. I lay there for a minute and wonder what it meant.

I've heard that dreaming you're naked in public means you don't feel like you know what you're doing, and you're afraid everyone is going to find out. Or, you're hiding something and fear what would happen if everyone knew. Afraid of being exposed = being naked in public. Makes sense, right?

I am now the mother of three elementary school age children. No more babies in this house. I don't know that I really miss those harried, messy days. (I know. What mother actually says that out loud? Answer: this one.) However, I do think they came more naturally to me than the stage we're in right now. All you have to do for a two year old is feed him, change him, snuggle him, and keep him busy. Basically, just keep him alive and smiling. Mommy is always the hero even when there is a wet diaper hanging from the ceiling fan and they've lost their toy soldier in the toilet. Of course, you might make them mad when you enforce boundaries, but they get over it pretty quick and go back to thinking you hung the moon. And, they sleep! A lot. So, that's awesome!

Older kids, though. See, they have projects and papers that make you miss the fat crayon coloring pages and magnetic letters on the fridge. They have their own opinions, and tend to voice them with an attitude that makes you wonder if you're failing as a parent. Definitely not like the sweet little broken sentences of a three year old. They have activities and relationships all their own. Mommy is no longer the playmate of choice, just an acceptable alternative when all other options have been exhausted. What am I gonna do with all those cardboard blocks and train tracks?

That's not really all of it, though, because I'm adapting ok to that. I've always been better with older kids anyway. I, more often than not, look forward to the growing and changing of my kids. I love seeing their personality and individuality develop, and the fact that they can do the whole toilet thing all by themselves, THAT IS AWESOME!

The problem? I think the reason I'm dreaming of being naked in public is that I will now be the home teacher for two of my children, and my older son will soon be beyond my level of expertise. He's in 4th grade. Pretty soon, I won't be able to correct his homework without an answer key. Actually, that's already happened. I have a graduate level education, and I struggled with some of the concepts he brought home in 3rd grade math. Seriously. I don't think I could make it on that Jeff Foxworthy game show, Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. My 4th grader can hold his own, though.

Serious props to all you teachers out there! I'm pretty sure I got what I needed from school, used it to build a foundation for college and completely wiped the rest from my mind. Actually, I think having three children had a lot to do with the emptying of my brain. Maybe years of Dora, Bob and Mickey had a little to do with it, too.

Is he ready for this? Am I ready? Will I completely ruin his chances of college because I can't explain the difference between a ray and a line? Is there a difference? What am I doing?

Then there is my beautiful, vibrant, funny, super smart Kindergartner who is already telling me how to teach her, and we haven't even finished a whole month yet. Between fearing the complete destruction of my 4th grader's education and dreading the arguments I anticipate with my Kindergartner, I think that's enough to trigger a silly dream. Don't you?

I googled it 'cause Google knows everything, and found a suggestion, to pay attention to what the other people were doing in my dream, how they reacted to my lack of clothing. After thinking about it, I had to literally laugh out loud.

The moms working the table with me were politely annoyed, but it was at my hesitancy and continuous absences, not my state of dress. One very special woman, whom I love and will not name right now, actually told me to get my head in the game, reminded me that I've got this, and told me to stop checking out. Other moms coming to the table were all smiles and thank you's. Actually, the only people who noticed were a couple of dads shaking their heads from a distant table.

Solidarity, Ladies! I must be surrounded by the best bunch of moms on the planet, or at least I truly, honestly feel supported and loved by y'all even though I don't feel adequate.

And, that's just it. None of us have all the answers. Most of us are just trying to get our children to adulthood alive. If they become productive, responsible and independent while still breathing, we should get a bonus. If we raise them to love the Lord and follow him when they don't know what they're doing, then we have succeeded, and I think that might be the point of all this.

I do NOT know what I'm doing, but I know someone who does. Not knowing what you're doing isn't a sin. It's human, and leaning on Jesus when I'm lost is so much more important a lesson than the difference between a line and a ray. Of course, my 4th grader still needs to know all that because the kid wants to be a mechanical engineer (God, help me, I'm an artist), but if he can't seek help and learn from the Master, then he'll fail in the bigger things, the things you can't take back.

So, I'm exposing myself, and hopefully, I can encourage a mom or two out there wondering if they've got what it takes to be the mom their kids need. Yes, you do. God gave you those babies and everything you need to get them to the jumping off point, that place where they fly away to the lives they were meant to live. Don't hesitate and freeze. Don't check out and disappear. Get your head in the game. You've got this.

Well Cared For

I wrote a post about My Scrawny Spirit, and then did a 30 Day Spiritual Challenge (which I completed, but realized it needs to be revised some because it was harder than I thought it would be). I've been thinking I would like to have an image to pin. So, I threw something together today, and wanted to post it so I could pin it.

Now imagine what you could accomplish if you put the two together.

Apparently, I Can't Streak

I started the Runner's World Run Streak #RWrunstreak on Memorial Day. I've run at least a mile every day since, and I plan to continue running until July 4th at the Peachtree Road Race. My legs feel stronger than they ever have, and I really enjoy the challenge. Maybe I'll keep going. Maybe I'll streak for a year. Maybe I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself.

Anyway, whenever I feel the need to plan and conquer something, I develop an overambitious, challenge hungry mentality. Pretty much "I'm gonna do this and that and maybe this and oooo, that too." Then I take on more than I can handle and fall flat on my face. When I fall flat on my face I switch from "I can conquer anything" to "I suck and will never accomplish anything, I may as well just crawl in bed and never come out."

Yeah, so after my run streak started off so well, I decided to blog every day I was streaking. I even thought I would start a new blog all about running because I have so much to say about it that it might be cool if the whole purpose of the blog was talking about running (forgetting that you need to have something to say that people actually want to read, or you should at least try to). Then the process got out of hand, and I just decided I would post something on my current blog every day. Then I didn't. Yesterday was kind of a blur. I got my run in, but the blog post was forgotten.

So, this morning I wake up and say to myself, "awwww, I was only like 4 posts in. Apparently, I can't streak." Then I decided that I would turn this glitch into a post, and attempt to salvage my streak rather than completely give up and make it another epic fail.

This is me trying to accept failure as part of the process. I'm trying not to crawl back into bed and say forget it all. I missed 1 day. Maybe I can still make it the rest of the way. Although, most of me is still thinking, "you stink at this and should just stop."

Well, I might stink at it, but I'm not going to stop. On to another day, and maybe another post. :-)

The Integrity of the Dress

Last night at my son's baseball game, I was talking to another mom.

Pause for a second for me to share one of my favorite things about baseball, adult conversation. Most games, I try to pay attention to the game as much as I can, but part of enjoying the game is enjoying the ball park and the families that are right there along side you. Plus, this season, we've had such a great group of boys and families, that I'm really sad to see it end. Anyway....

I was talking to another mom at the game last night and she mentioned that she and her daughter dress up together for fun and play (go ahead and say it, awwwwww), and she will put on her wedding dress when they do. Wait. What? My first thought when she said that was, "you can still wear your wedding dress?" I completely forgot about how sweet it is that she plays dress up with her daughter and could only focus on one thing. She can still wear her wedding dress. I'm 35 pounds heavier than I was when I got married almost twelve years ago, and I run marathons (ok, one marathon, but I'm doing more soon). I kept thinking I probably couldn't even get it over my head, for sure not my hips, and there's NO way I could fasten it. The game went on, and we talked about other things. Did I mention how much I really enjoy talking to other moms at the baseball field. Yeah, anyway, I kept thinking about the fact that she can still wear her wedding dress. For real, I kept thinking about it. I couldn't get it out of my head. So, you know what I did? This morning after I got back from my run and got done showering, washing off the sweat left after the rain, [I always feel so hardcore when I run in the rain. Even though it was really just a drizzle, my shoes were wet and squishy when we got done, and that made me feel even more hardcore. Back to the dress thing...] I decided to put mine on. Everyone else was still asleep, so no one would see me, and I HAD to know if I could fit in it. I probably should have just allowed myself to wonder.

Here's how this whole thing went down. I couldn't get it over my shoulders. Not really sure why that is. My bone structure hasn't changed, at least not up there. I guess since I had zero body fat back then, getting it over my hips wasn't an issue. I probably never tried to put it on over my head. It's a strapless dress. So, I'm pretty sure I stepped into it the four times I wore it, once at the bridal store, twice for the fittings and once on my wedding day. Here's the thing, though, I'm almost positive I gained all 35 pounds in my hips and thighs. Stepping into dresses no longer happens for me, but with a little wiggle, I did it. I got it over my hips and almost squealed! Shhh. Don't wake the kids. Then all those darn buttons, and the zipper. Yeah, NONE of that was happening. My rib cage has grown. No for real. I'm not trying to say that when I should really say I've gained weight. It really has. That happens when you have kids, right? They stretch out your rib cage. Seems like I read that somewhere. Anyway, it really has. I sucked in like an inverted tornado and got the first part of the thing fastened around my waist, but once I got to my ribs, it became clear, I was NOT fitting into my wedding dress. It was actually ok, and I had a really good laugh at myself, sat on the floor, and took a selfie. I'm Gen Y, of course I took a selfie.

I'm not good at selfies.
I'm even worse at all the filters and junk.
Which is sad since I'm a graphic designer.

In the process of all this craziness, thinking about how much bigger I am now in nearly every way but one, I remembered something the woman told me during my first fitting. There are two cup sizes of padding in the chest of that dress. Two cup sizes. Why? Well, there was only so much she could take in due to the way the dress was made. All the beading and detail made it hard for her to do too much with it. She told me, "too much alteration would ruin the integrity of the dress." Apparently all super skinny women wearing a size 2 wedding dress have giant Barbie chests, right? Sounds like the integrity of the designer should be questioned, or maybe I should have just found a different dress. It was so pretty, though. Anyway, that was ages ago, and it's not important now.

Things got deep sitting on the floor of my closet which also happens to be my favorite place to pray.

I got to thinking about what else has changed about me since that day nearly twelve years ago. Honestly, besides the things that usually come with marriage like kids and bills and stress and the effects of long term sleep deprivation, not much. At my core, I'm still me. Still got all the goofy awkwardness I was born with. It's just packaged a little differently now. What has changed, though, is my desire to fit a mold I wasn't designed to fit. The standard must retain it's integrity. It can not be altered, or it ceases to be. I tried to fit. Pushed and squeezed and worked SO hard, ignoring the pain and the obvious signs that I would never make it happen. The more I squeezed, the more brokenness and imperfection I found. At one point or another, I couldn't deny my failure anymore. I don't handle failure well. It isn't natural for me to let broken things BE broken. It isn't natural for me to just let things be, to let me be me. I have to fix it. Make it right. I have to be the good girl, the good mom, the good wife, the best me, or at least I did. When I figured out that wasn't gonna happen, I kind of slipped into a private rebellion. If I can't be that girl, then I'll be this one. No wild partying or open rebellion, no abandonment of my family, just giving up and trying not to care. You know what changed? My desire to fit that mold, and when I realized that mold wasn't for me, a revelation of another kind came to me.

There is no mold.

I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.

I spent many wonderful childhood summer days forming little pots and figures out of the beautiful blue clay we had at our creek. I also took a sculpting class in college where we used a special rubber material to make molds of our originals so we could make copies out of resin. To make a mold, you must first have an original. The mold never comes first. See, there is no mold for me to fit into because I am the original sculpture, carved and formed by the hands of God. Now, he's not done yet. There is still a lot of work to do, but forcing me into a mold made by someone else isn't part of the plan. I was never meant to be a copy. He doesn't make copies, and his plan involves molding me into the image of his Son, sometimes with his hands, sometimes carving with tools and sometimes cutting away the excess. When he's done, though, when I stand complete, I'll be the best me, the me he meant me to be, more perfect than the image of the mold I wanted so much to fit myself into.

I get impatient very often. I struggle with no longer having that vision of perfection, that standard to live up to, but I like not trying so hard. I like feeling like I'm already enough. I like knowing all the molding is up to my Savior. I like letting the broken be broken, and knowing that healing will come. Maybe not now, but before God puts his signature on his creation and calls it good, healing will come. I will be whole. Someday.

The trick today is being ok with a dirty kitchen and laundry overflowing the room it should be confined to. I've enjoyed the day with my kids, though, and I've enjoyed writing. Here's to someday and the awe I know I'll feel when I see my Creator's handiwork complete and whole from the inside out.