Discipline

I am still working on what works best for me when it comes to disciplining my children. I have tried many different approaches and I have yet to find one that works like a charm because I don't think one magic charm exists. It is equally difficult to find one that meshes well with my personality. I realize that different approaches are needed to fit different situations as well as different children. As the child grows so does the need and the spectrum of the discipline, however consistency does seem to be the key.

My son Cole continues to baffle me when it comes to figuring out his "currency". We have tried stickers. We have tried a good behavior jar. We have tried time outs. We have tried grounding. He is a strong willed child to say the least, and he knows how to push my buttons. My friend Chenoa and I laugh about our eldest children whom are very much alike. It is so nice to have a friend I can honestly speak with about my feelings regarding how difficult I have found it to be parenting a child that is very much like myself. She doesn't judge, she doesn't pity, and she truly doesn't compare her successes/failures with mine. She has her own which she shares with me just as openly. And neither of us has to explain to the other that regardless of all the difficulties, we love our children more than life itself. Part of our biggest problem is wrapped up in the desire to be the best for our children. Anyway, thank you my friend for being part of the architectual planning commitee in helping to shape and build the wondrous and complicated 'cathedral' that is Cole.

So today's discipline conundrum came about at church. Well sort of...Today I was in charge of the church's nursery. Just me...no one else. This is because I can't say no, and because I am a huge SUCKER. The regular, and trained professional, was away on a religious ed. weekend with the teenagers that also sometimes help out in the nursery. I had no back up. Trey is on call, so I was flying solo...again. I cannot begin to accurately describe my anxiety this morning. So, my back up was Cole. He promised to help me out and provide a good example to the younger children. Well...

All things considered, the morning was a success, but Cole disappointed me. He was just completely single minded about not listening at the expense of his own desire to run like a rooster without a head through the nursery leading the rest of the crazy boys (of which there were 6) like the Pied Piper. He had a blast, but he knows better. I want him to have fun and be a kid, but he needs to listen. No running inside. The end. Just him and Jack running in a confined space together sets my heart racing. They are not the most coordinated of children, and both seem to have feet the size of flippers that account for frequent falls and trips. Jack alone looks like scarface because of a recent run in with a tree at the park. Trees don't even run.

Cole is currently in his room writing 20 times: I will listen to my Mom.
I figure today was a good day to try the nuns' approach to discipline. It is my new blend of discipline and time management: work on a meaningful punishment while improving penmanship. Maybe this tactic will stick around for awhile...at least until I am dealt a new hand of cards.

It takes 3 hours and 22 minutes for a 5 year old to self directedly write out a simple sentence 20 times at the end of which they may look like this:

Epiphanies: The End

I promise this is the end of the weekend recount, but it really was very poignant.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

After church, I went out on the patio to read. It was really too nice of a day to not be outside. In the midst of a chapter of my book entitled "Corn Sex" my bestest friend in the whole world, Megs, called. I know, 'bestest' sounds so childish, so pre-teen, so ridiculous, but I have known my true friend since we were all of those very things and ,in some ways, still are. She called to tell me she is coming to visit. She who hates to travel and hates planes even more is travelling from Michigan to see little ole' me. (I am pretending that the our nice weather and the fact she has Seasonal Anxiety Disorder has nothing to do with it.) She's coming!!!!! I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders and I immediately got a shot of energy because I was overjoyed knowing that she would be here in a week. Seven short days. She even built a day into her vacation to allow me to be grumpy that she is leaving (a problem I have but a needed safety mechanism so that I can deal with saying goodbye to those that I love.)

Epiphany #5: I need her, and I am okay with admitting this....I need her because I love being a girl. I love having a good girlfriend that knows you so well that even when you are trying to hide your inner thoughts they are there for her to read like frequently followed directions. It is imperative that I have girlie time doing pedicures, talking about the latest crazy fashion fads that we would never be caught dead in, drinking gin and tonics, re-living old memories, and discussing the similarities in the new memories. I need good and true women in my life...they help to revitalize me. They help to show me the way gracefully.

For those of you who love beautiful photography please visit Megan's Etsy store here which showcases some of her work. We have some gorgeous pics of hers in our home, and they are quite stunning. Her work showcases the best of Virginia, the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and her new home of Michigan. I am so proud of her and her talent. Here's to a wonderful week together. (I already got the Bombay!)


Final and Most Profound of Weekend Epiphanies: On Monday, after a weekend of togetherness, Trey pulled me aside and whispered in my ear, "I don't know how you do it, the boys suck the life out of me." Thank you, thank you, thank you. This gift of recognition and acknowledgement was the best I have ever received.

Epiphanies: Part Two

So, the weekend continued. So did my learning experiences.

Saturday we all went to our neighborhood Easter Egg Hunt. After the actual hunt was over, Cole, Jack and I danced to the great tunes coming from the loudspeakers out on the field. Now when I say danced, I mean really danced. No swaying in time to the music. This was full fledged all parts of our body in motion dancing to the music. On the ground, arms above our heads, running in circles type dancing. Trey watched and smiled at us as we boogied on down. I am happy to report that our dancing attracted many curious looks, but I didn't care. Wait! Stop! Yes, let me repeat...I didn't care who was looking or what they thought about me or my kids.

Later that night, I sat in bed wondering why at that moment in time did I shed all of my issues in regards to being 'out of place'. I am not sure I ever came to a good answer, but I knew that I liked how it made me feel and it was a heck of a lot better than worrying the day away analyzing why we got some funny stares.

It felt liberating to just let the music flow and have primitive-type fun letting our bodies react to the rhythm. Bravo to myself!!! Or so I thought.

Sunday morning came and we donned the requisite Easter regalia: Madras. We looked fairly ridiculous, but again it was too much fun to care. We arrived at church extremely early as Easter is a notorious holiday that if you aren't there early you will be standing. Standing is not an option with the two goons. As it was, there was no church nursery this week so Jack was going to have to sit through mass with us...do you understand the pain involved in an hour of mass with a 2 year old and a 5year old? And, oh yeah, by the way, our priest in Irish....so, mass is more like 1.5hours. Lovely, but long with a toddler.

We found a seat situated at the very end of a pew in the very back of the church: good escape capabilities. It seems that other families with children around the ages of ours also thought that it would be a good idea to sit together so that if a large din suddenly arose from our part of the church, it would be more difficult to pinpoint the small offender.

The processional music started and the church filled with song. My oldest goon included. However, he took it one step further. He picked up a hymnal, opened it wide and held it up to the sky while singing and swaying in a very charismatic fashion. You would have thought that he was part of the priest's procession.

The older boys next to him started laughing and pointing...and you know what I did...me the person from the day before who was also jamming to the proverbial groove...the person who had spent the night before revelling in our lightness of heart and innocence ...I became utterly embarrassed.

Epiphany #3: I have a lot of growing up to do.

Cole is teaching me to not care what other people think. He does this everyday because he truly doesn't care. He is his own person. I know that I will appreciate this when he is a teenager and refuses to jump off the blasted bridge where all his friends are taking swan dives. Now, I worry entirely too much about his acceptance by his peers. This is my issue. I don't want my issues to affect my children.

Cole told me later: "I know you and daddy love me. I don't worry so much about anyone else."

Profound lesson for a mother to learn from her five year old.

Epiphany #4: There are some chores that will never get done no matter how long I let them go thinking Trey may do it because he can obviously see it needs to be done: unload the dishwasher, take out the trash (it is amazing what we both fit into one bag this weekend because we both hate this job), put new toilet paper on the holder (I believe this ultimately ends up falling on us women b/c we require it more often).

Quote of the Day

This conversation took place on the way home from school between Cole and Ella. Ella lives on our street and we carpool with her everyday. Cole and Ella's relationship alternates between best buddies and sibling type tiffs. It can be very trying on the driver's patience.

While flipping through the most recent auto trader, Cole and Ella were deciding which cars they would have when they grew-up and got married:

Cole: Well, you are the lady and I am the husband...so, we will need three cars.
Ella: Okay, but mine has to be pink.
Cole: Are you sure? Pink or purple..I thought purple was your most favorite color.
Ella: Oh yeh..purple.
Cole: Okay, then you can have this Honda minivan, and I can have the Ford pickup truck.
Ella: Oh cool, the kids can stand in the back of the truck.
Cole: And, we can have this car as our date car.
Ella: Okay. The kids can't stand in that car.
Cole: How many kids are we going to have?
Ella: Hmmm...I think like five.
Cole: We have to get a limo.

Epiphanies: Part One

I love this word. I am not ashamed to admit I have them all the time. As I age, I realize I don't know anything, and if I am receptive every day holds a possible learning experience.

I am not sure how to start or phrase what I really want to say about my weekend. I will try very hard to maintain some readability in this entry, but I am sure that it will develop into a stream of consciousness type of recounting of the weekend.

Firstly, Trey had a 96 hour liberty awarded to him for receiving an excellent score on his Physical Readiness Test. He was off this past Friday through Monday which is practically unheard of around these parts. It was a weekend where we had nothing planned, so we were able to truly relax and enjoy the bright spring weather.

Leading up to this leave time, I was quite skeptical about the effort put into achieving the leave versus the end reward. I really had to bite my lip each time Trey would come home from a 13 hour work day only to walk right back out the door with his running shoes on ready to hit the pavement. I resented I was doing bath time by myself again so he could go out and improve his cardiac health. I pouted, I hen pecked, and I basically was just plain pissy (as my dad loves to call it). Trey pushed through my moodiness, and ,what I am trying to say is...I am quite glad there are times when my husband knows I am being irrationally ridiculous because our whole family benefited from the weekend together.

We all gained new perspectives from one another, and we all found some time to re-connect. Thank you Trey for making that time happen.

So, Friday was our 10th wedding anniversary. The babysitter arrived at 6pm and we headed out to Biscotti's, one of our absolute all time favorite restaurants. Delicious food, a private but fun atmosphere, and incredible desserts have called us back to this eatery time and time again. As we headed down the road at an incredible speed because our gas foot seems to know that the faster we go the more time we have alone, Trey identified an unfamiliar noise coming from the right front wheel well of his Dad's generously loaned/semi-leased sports car. Needless to say, any noise coming from this car sets Trey into a tail spin.

He was immediately preoccupied with "the noise", a noise I couldn't hear, and one from which I could not divert his attention. I started to become seriously annoyed. I couldn't believe this was how the evening was starting out. My lips turned into a thin line, my eyebrows arched clear up to my hairline, and I crossed my arms with major "pissiness" across my body.

He finally pulled over to a doctor's office close to our home explaining that he needed to check out the engine and make sure that everything was copacetic. He parked and calmly got out of the car. He walked around to my side, opened the door, and got down on one knee. I said in my most haughty of voices, "Trey, the engine is in the back of the car! What are you doing...??". He just smiled while I continued to be a first class know-it-all. "Don't you think I am making a valid point? You are in the wrong place!", I reiterated.

Only then did I notice the box.

He opened it, and in it nestled in velvet was the most beautiful and most perfect re-engagement ring. He had it crafted to duplicate a ring we had seen years before. A type of ring that looks like it should belong on a different person's finger. A ring I can never deserve. I was speechless.

I burst into tears as he asked me if I would marry him again. I cried and cried, not only because he had recaptured his original proposal to me 12 years ago so well (on the side of the road at a random spot because he was too excited to wait until he got somewhere significant), but because I was so ashamed of my behavior.

It epitomized my issues around control and my inability to live in the moment without any expectations. I need to let go. No one benefits from the tight leash I keep on everything. Appreciate the little things as they happen and not after the fact. It is fine if everything else seems to be less than perfect. It actually may be fun.

Epiphany #1 of the weekend....I need to tone down the bitchiness.
Epiphany #2 of the weekend...Trey has a song for every moment. At the time he proposed, the car CD player was blaring Pink Floyd's "Shine on you Crazy Diamond". Crazy is right.

Love the Eggs...Hate the Bunny.

Today was our neighborhood's annual Easter Egg Scramble. Egg Hunts have come a long way from the actual hunt. Now they rope off a large square, throw a bunch eggs into the middle, and shout "Go!" to the kids waiting around the perimeter of the square biting their fingers, screaming, and kicking to get in to grab some precious eggs. It definitely cuts down the drama of seeing those tearful kids that never found many hidden eggs while some eagle-eyed kid walked by with a basket brimming with goodies.

Anyway, both the boys loved running for the eggs. Each goon fell into a predictable behavior pattern. Cole triple checked his age group's square after the hunt was over just "to make sure that one wasn't left behind". Jack picked up and shared just as many eggs as went into his basket...while his father quietly urged him to chuck them across the field. (And I wonder where some of my issues come from...)

The funniest moment was when the giant bunny came up to my family for pictures. Cole seems to have known from birth that there is a person inside the costume and so the giant and colorful bunnies never bothered him. He saunters right on up, poses, high fives the rabbit/impostor, gets the required family picture and then happily leaves. However, Jack didn't want anything to do with this crazy looking polka-dot bow tie wearing thing that waves but doesn't talk. As the bunny knelt down to try and make Jack feel more comfortable, Jack stuck both of his sticky dirty hands right in the bunny's air hole. Needless to say, the bunny felt a bit molested, but graciously posed for a picture with Jack. Both the bunny and Jack kept their eyes on me the whole time just to make sure I wasn't going anywhere. I was able to snap some shots, and now I have an Easter photo with Jack, the bunny, and some random buxom blond chick because Jack chose to stand as far from the bunny as possible.





At the end of the hunt, all the bunnies were hanging around (there were 3 to accommodate all the family photos) just talking some good old bunny talk. Jack thought this was a good time to make up with his bunny. He kept inching closer to get a better look while the bunnies where occupied amongst themselves. He would get close enough to grab a fluffy white tale and then run like heck in the opposite direction. It was great!

This is a genetic trait. I hated the dressed up Easter Bunny when I was a child too. My parents still have a Polaroid with a very suspicious me sitting on some stranger's lap who was wearing a giant bunny head that of which you could look into the mouth and see the entire face of the person within. It really warped my views on the big ginormous bunny that comes to your house to leave you a basket full of eggs.

PS: I hate these plastic eggs. They seem to multiply every year just like little rabbits.

LCDR Wilson Takes Oath...Again.

I couldn't be more proud of my hubby! Yesterday he pinned on his other leaf...now he officially looks like a tree from the neck up.

I was truly inspired by the oath of office that each individual is asked to repeat when moving to the next rank. An oath is not something my husband takes lightly, and every word he repeated reverberated down to the core of his being.

I am so proud that my husband works so diligently to protect and defend those that work or have worked so hard to protect us and our freedoms.

THE OATH (with some artistic interpretations)

I, [the husband of Weasel and the father of the two goons], do solemnly swear, (or affirm,) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation (however, I cannot speak for my wife) or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. (So help me God.)

Quote of the Day

Cole: Mom, I had such a rough day at school!
Me: Why is that?
Cole: All the kids wouldn't share with me!!!
Me: Hmmmm...really!
Cole: Well, just Peyton. He wouldn't give me the book I wanted.
Me: Did he have it first?
Cole: Yeh!
Me: So...what happened?

Cole:
"Nothing except that he had the book that I always like and he should know that it is actually my favorite and he has to give it to me when I even look at him. Plus..he can't even read."

PS: Neither can Cole.

Painting in Progress

Okay Mom....here it is in it's infancy. Manahawkin, Lucy in Margate, Flying Dutchman in the background...still have a good deal to do...especially on the house...but...viola.

Happy Birthday to Jack...

Jack turned two, and we spent the day eating nothing but sugar laden food: powdered donuts, fruit snacks, banana pudding, cupcakes...and then some yummy Mellow Mushroom pizza. In honor of the Mellow Mushroon and our recent Dark Star Orchestra concert, I made tye-die inspired cupcakes. They were yummy!

We love you Jack!

St. Patrick's Day History

Okay! So here goes...as a person with a concentration in Irish Women's Literature...I would like to point out the following:

The Irish Flag has three stripes

1.) Green representing the Catholics
2.) White representing a hope of peace
3.) Orange representing the Protestants

My Irish Catholic side of the family (I am the product of a mixed marriage- Baptist father and Catholic Mother) used to joke that on St. Patty's Day if you didn't wear green you got a pinch, but if you wore orange you got punched. Well, we are eons away from the boys of Curry Head sitting on the curb in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Thank God!

But, on St. Patrick's day...a day honoring a Catholic saint, I thought some of the Protestants out there may want to know they have thier own color. So wear the color most appropriate to your beliefs OR EVEN BETTER wear all the colors of the Irish flag OR the image of the Irish flag itself as a true statement of peace, love and understanding.

I truly hope for peace between the North and the South of the Emerald Isle. We understand terrorism from our encounter of 9/11. The Irish and British have been living it for years.

Time Flies

Jack turns two tomorrow and I realize that my baby is no longer a baby. Today, Cole proudly showed me his first loose tooth. At the end of the week, Trey and I will celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary and our 17th year together. I guess what I am trying to illustrate is that time moves on whether we want it to or not, and it moves so much more quickly than I ever thought possible.

To me, time presents a difficult struggle. On one hand, I am overjoyed at the new things that each tomorrow brings, and I am constantly looking toward the future. On the other hand, I find myself brooding on whether I have made the most out of each yesterday. Recalling the details of distant memories is becoming more difficult, and I disregard the details of recent yesterdays to try and make room for getting through today.

So, today I just sat down and thought about taking time to "smell the roses" and spending more of my time imprinting the everyday memories. It is one lesson I hope that I can teach my children so they will enjoy every day, look forward to every tomorrow, and remember each yesterday with fondness instead of regret.

Forget the fact that the passing of time makes itself most obviously evident when I look in the mirror each day. Holy gray hair, Batman!

Children's Poet Laureate

I didn't know. I had no idea. We have a National Children's Poet Laureate: Jack Prelutsky. We checked out his most recent book, The Wizard, from the library last week and finally got around to reading it last night. We loved it. The illustrations were phenomenal, and the subject and prose was thought provoking for not only my child but for the adults within earshot of our nightly beatnik session.

The front of the book has one of those beautiful gold round stickers slapped on the front. You know the one, the one that every poet would love to have grace the front of thier own work. When I examined the words on the sticker it was announcing the author as the first ever National Children's Poet Laureate. What a wonderful idea!!!

It is a two year term, so his term is up in late 2008. I think I may submit my homage to Dr. Suess to see if I stand a chance.

Here is the link to more info on the poetry foundation.

Quote of the Day

"Dear God, Thank you for Jesus dying for us on the cross for us because now Easter is coming and I get to use my new camo Easter basket....oh yeah...and thank you for my family." - Cole

It's Not East Being Green

We are in the midst of preparing for yet another move.

This will be the seventh move in ten years of marriage.

Statistically, we have lived 1.4 years in each location; it usually takes me this much time to get our house exactly how I want it and to finally make real connections with good friends...and then we are heading out. My mother tells me it is a good way to never get sick of friends.

I love to move, but I hate the preparation that culminates prior to the physical move. So, here we are, again, in the middle of sorting, donating, recycling (responsibly), and storing.

We are not true 'greenies', but we try and do what we can when it comes to using only what we need and responsibly re-using and disposing of the things left over. Preparing for my move has made me feel a bit like Kermit. I have been hit with a number of road blocks in my quest to be more earth friendly.

Recent Roadblocks:

1.) Our local grocery store collects empty egg cartons and meat/produce foam trays. As the recycling number on the bottom of these acceptable foam receptacles matched the bottom of some of our to-go meal containers, I naturally thought that recycling them with the grocer would be a smart option. (By the way, the amount of packaging that goes into the restaurant's to-go services is astounding!) Well, the bagger at Publix informed me that they don't take "my type of foam". When I smiled and said, "but these are the same material, why would you not take these?". He just grunted and said, "cause we just don't". Hmmm...I politely stacked up my large bag of containers and walked out thinking should I take the word of the bagger or go check with a manager, but at that very same time my littlest goon started screaming for "Juice and my Night-Night". So, the decision was made for me and the foam trays went out with our regular trash.
2.) Trey changes his own oil and saves the old oil in large containers so that we can take them to the hazardous waste dump for recycling or proper disposal. Did you know that there is a daily limit for the amount of oil you can bring to our local hazardous waste station? It is a rather puny amount. If I figure the math right, I would have to make 12 daily consecutive trips to complete my oil drop offs. Seems like a ridiculous amount of gas to waste to stay within this limit. I wonder what the reason is for the limit. Is it a daily capacity issue? Again, whatever the reason, I find myself wiping off my brow and my puzzled expression.
3.) Goodwill is picky! I understand they do not want some one's old undergarments or holey socks, but I was appalled when they told me the large inflatable bounce castle/baby pool/slide was not an item them wanted. I had power washed this off, deflated it down to a size that would fit nicely in a Rubbermaid plastic container (of which I was also willing to donate). All of this only to be told that they could not accept large inflatable items. Are they worried they are going to be stuck with a large supply of life rafts or something? It's a pool...in Florida...what the heck!
4.) Packing peanuts have to be immaculately clean to be returned to a UPS center for re-use. Not one dog hair better be amongst those little horrors or they will be rejected for re-use. Needless to say...I will NEVER pass the clean peanut test.
5.) Last week our entire week's worth of household recyclables was left on the curb by the recycling pick-up team. Each blue bin was attacked by neon green stickers that declared our recyclables not fit for removal. I meticulously clean out, sort, and break down our recyclables. The only reason I can think of that we were rejected is b/c we sometimes don't sort the plastics from the glass...but, I have noticed that they go in the same slot on the dern truck...so, what gives. I was depressed to throw all the recyclables in the trash for the week.


Both Kermit and I are not going to give up the green fight, but I needed an outlet to release some recycling frustration so that I can concentrate on cleaning the egg noodle casserole from last night off the blinds. My littlest goon has quite a good arm and did not care for my quickly whipped up meal.

The bag from above is from www.delight.com.
They have some really neat things: the sun jar is my favorite, and what a good idea to make some produce bags.

Homage to Dr. Suess

I vividly remember being curled up on the top bunk reading our well worn copy of The Cat in the Hat. It was a book that I could read early on and one that made me feel like a 'big girl' because it was longer than most books in my collection. What kid doesn't like Dr. Seuss? You feel like you are singing a song when you read his books out loud, and his illustrations put a smile on the most sour of faces.

I grew as did my love and respect for Theodore Geisel. His books send poignant messages, teach life long lessons, and challenge us to look inside ourselves for what we may not want to see. What a guy!! Any man that builds a house that looks down on the institution of learning that once rejected him from their ranks is top notch in my book. Him and I share the same passive-aggressive, grudge-holding personality trait.

In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday last week, I thought I would turn one of the most Seuss-like members of my life (my crazy, stinky, large, and constantly shedding black lab, Boomer) into a homage of sorts. I am sure that Dr. Suess would object, but he's dead...so here goes.



My Stinky Friend
By Weasel

Florida is humid.
Florida is hot.
Florida, a place for a dog,
I think not.

I sit here with Boomer.
We sit here we two.
And I lean over and smell
something terrible. Whew!

I think it smells rotten
like moss on a log.
But, alas the smell is
my itchy black dog.

I say, "Here! Here!
Please come near!
There is something all gross
inside of your ear."

And, yes!
There it is, inside of his ear.
Something black, something growing
something dark that I fear.

I try to go at it.
To clean it all out.
But the grossness just grows,
and I shout and I pout.

I take Boomer in to the doc for a peek.
She tells me it should clear up in a week.
But it grows even bigger and even more runny,
so I take him in for a little more money.

The doc says,
"This is well out of my league.
You must call dog dermatology!"

"What!" I say, "What!"
I have never seen such a thing.
She says, "Why it's simple.
Just give them a ring."

So, I gave them a ring.
A ring and a prayer
for a doctor that
may charge something fair.

Well.....

The specialist fixed it!
He banished the smell!
How much did it cost me?
I never will tell.


Postscript: I can't wait to take the goons to see the movie "Horton Hears a Who."

Homeland security may come a knockin'

My oldest goon loves to dress up. He uses his Native American Thanksgiving school garb for a Carlos Santana knockoff and boogies on down. He dons yellow sunglasses and a pit crew hat and develops a pretty good southern drawl. And lately...his favorite outfit...


He looks a little like a terrorist, but something is missing with the Nick and Nora cowboy sheet berka. By the way, my littlest goon is far from being scared by these ensembles. In fact, everytime his brother puts on the helmet, he picks up a guitar and hammers his brother's head which is followed by hysterical laughter.

I truly don't get it.

Congrats babe!

This weekend my better half ran in the local 15K. He continues to amaze me. He makes a grand declaration that he is going to do something and damn it if he doesn't do it...usually in an above average fashion. He has always been athletic and a bit of a runner, but he has never participated in a run of this magnitude. He did great finishing in the top 20 percent beating out all the costumed runners to include the gladiator, the fireman wearing a tank, and the Disney Princesses. I think that he is now officially hooked, and plans on running in an upcoming St. Patty's Day 10K. He has a determination and follow through that I only dream of achieving.

My achievement: I actually got myself there with the two goons in time to snap of few pictures of Forrest Gump running across the finish line. I have to face the fact that my achievements and goals are in some ways less complicated and more mundane...but just as admirable...right???

Babe, I am so proud of you! You have come a long way since being hit by the car while running through Five Points jamming out to The Dead on your headphones. Now when you run you get coupons and cool tee shirts instead of a jay-walking ticket. I love you!

I Don't Like You

Is this really okay? I mean is it really okay to finally admit to yourself that there is someone that you just don't like: stop the trying, don't make any more allowances, stop criticizing yourself that it may be because you are less of a person. I don't mean the random person that you come across or that you may know from a brief encounter. I am talking about the person with whom you have a relationship; an acquaintance you may have sought out or one that has been thrust upon you for various reasons.

My best friend, Megs, and my husband have collectively been telling me that I should do this more often and likely move on with a happier life. I know that I would probably feel liberated and like a whole new person. I know it would make their lives a great deal easier as it is a reoccurring theme throughout my own.

I would not consider myself a lemming. I am pretty certain that compared to my peers there are a number of areas where my views and opinions are considered pretty 'unconventional' and not 'popular'...this doesn't seem to bother me...even when I worry about acceptance and rejection (two themes that seem to be pervasive amongst us women). So, I am proud to say that I at least stand behind my convictions (even when I am not as vocal as maybe I should be about them in certain situations). However, I realize that my 'like' of someone else is inevitably intertwined in how they feel about me...is it because I truly believe that you should try not to judge another human being. Everyone has a story and until you have heard it from beginning to end you should give everyone a chance. I believe in tolerance. Total Tolerance: different religious beliefs, different political beliefs, different life choices. If you are a 'good person', if you are a peaceful person, if you yourself can refrain from outwardly and maliciously judging me and mine for my choices then we should be able to live side by side as 'friends'. I wish this was true and for the most part (and on a less cynical day)... I think it is...we are naturally drawn to people with views like our own. We try and surround ourselves, for the long haul, with those people that accept you for your quirks and you for theirs...but, when you move as much as we do you see and meet many new faces. More than not, these new faces are not exactly like mine. Hmmm, Go figure in a world of a billion gagillion people.
All of these people have been sent into my life for a reason...I just hope I am getting it: (a) is the lesson to silently linger in my doubts about why I am putting up with some one's shenanigans only to continue to try and truly put myself out there as a friend...to continue to try even when it makes me doubt myself...or silently rage (because I don't want to hurt their feeling even though they seemingly are less than concerned with mine)(b) or just move on and feel like I gave up. It is so complicated.

On a slightly depressing note, my mother assures me that this is a predicament that haunts even the most mature and experienced of female relationships as witnessed in her own volunteer groups(let me remind you volunteer..so supposedly gathering to do something for the betterment of others...ahem...).

I am pretty sure that men don't face these same issues. I am exceedingly proud to be a woman, but we really could take some cues from the other gender. Why can't I learn from the boys??? Because first, we all as women have to acknowledge that we could make it easier on each other.