Mind Blown, Kemo Sabe

I had lunch with a dear friend yesterday.  I wanted to pick her brain, tell her my situation, because she has relevant experience that I hoped she would share.

She did.

And I have to say, she blew my mind.

Where the entire world (it seems, which is funny because beyond this blog only like 5 people know, and isn't really true, either - I didn't feel this from J or B - I guess I have a tendency to dwell on the more negative reactions?) has risen up in shock and protest, she nodded sagely and told me she figured.  She figured!  She figured a long time ago.  Before the baby.  Then she apologized for saying that, but no, NO!  I wanted her to say that.  I needed her to say that.  Because she is the kind of friend that speaks the truth, even when it is hard to hear.  But in this case, a truth that many would have taken offense to happened to be exactly what I needed to hear.

Because, in moments of weakness, I question if I'm remembering everything correctly.  I wonder if I'm constructing a reality, constructing a past?  But when she said that to me, it reaffirmed to me that no.  NO.  I am in my right mind.  These things were there before the Great Catalyst.  They were there enough to be visible to (a very intuitive) someone else.  That isn't just a little thing.  That is huge.  That is telling.  That is real.

It blew my mind.

She didn't try to direct my path.  She just listened and told me that she could see that I was considering all of the angles, and therefore whatever decision I made she was certain would be the right one.  But as a woman with experience on these roads, she warned me that I may question my decision, even after it is made, for a long time.  I can believe that.  She also told me to take my time.  And I am.  I am trying.

And I am so grateful to her.  And to the Universe, which seems to be sending me exactly what I need when I need it.

I am still feeling weak, raw in my emotions.  But I am stronger than I was at the beginning of this week.  I am staying the course.

Raw

Something simple happened this morning.

I've been feeling really conflicted in my personal life.  I haven't discussed it in depth here, and I won't.  But conflicted.  Like I'm swimming upstream.  And it is hard.  And some days I'm not sure I want to.  And some days I turn around and swim a little ways back downstream.  It is just such a battle right now.  Every day is a battle.  And it is wearing me out.

I'm been in that place where downstream is looking tempting.  Really tempting.

And then this morning a colleague and friend walked into my office and asked how I was.  And I just started crying.

But.

BUT.

I think it made me realize that downstream is not the right choice.  Who would choose to swim upstream if they didn't have to?  No one.  The fact that I made that choice in the first place is indicative of the seriousness of my issues.  Is indicative of the need for serious change.  Downstream might be easier, but it is a short term fix.  It isn't the ultimate path to happiness.  I must work for my happiness.  I must keep the end goal in mind.  And the end goal is long term happiness.  I am weak right now, but I recognize my weakness, and it is important for me to stay the course.  Don't make any big decisions.  Don't make any moves.  Just stay the course until the weakness passes.  And then I can reassess from a position of strength.

There is strength in staying the course.  There is strength in awareness.  I am digging deep, and I will not be swept away.

I Ran This Morning!

This is the part where I apologize for still not posting the End of the World Half race report, in which I tell you that I got injured, hence why I'm all excited about a little run this morning.

This is also the part where I have decided to come (at least a little) clean about what is going on in my world.  Mostly because it is my reality and it is impacting obviously my life, but also my exercise. 

So, P and I aren't living together right now.  We are trading weeks, one of us keeps Z in our house, the other lives in AD house.  And then we switch.  We are often still sharing weekends, to try to give some level of normalcy to Z.  I will not go into the nitty gritty of why all of this is happening.  Nor will I postulate on the future.  This is the now that I am living.

So, how has that impacted my exercise?  Well, I can't run in the morning when I'm at home any more, because there is no sleeping adult to leave with Z.  And I'm still not sure about running at AD's house.  I mean, I need to.  I will.  I just need to get out of my head about learning new routes in a new neighborhood, that's all.  Wasn't a problem, really, because I was giving my knee a month off, but it is time to start running again, so all of this will need to get worked out.

What I have been doing is riding my bike on the trainer on the weeks that I have Z, and doing core work.  I am very pleased with that.  And on the weeks that I'm at AD house I've been doing P90X, all hard core like.  I am also very pleased with that!

And last night P stayed over so he could watch the Super Bowl on the nice TV with DVR, so there was a sleeping adult to leave in the house, so I ran!  I only went 3 miles, but I was so very pleased that I have not lost all my stamina or wind.  I did 3 sets of 9/1s.  And it was... perfect.  I love running and missed it so much!

So there it is.  Out there.  For those of you who know me in real life, I'm still not advertising this, ok?  But I need this blog.  And what I found is that I can't censor that aspect of my life from here and still be able to really write.  I know I could go private, but I don't want to.  I started this blog a long time ago to document my running journey, and this freaking bumpy road that I am currently on is a part of that.  I own that.  It is where I am now.  And hopefully, I'll be running on it.

4 Years

Today is Preston's and my 4 year anniversary.

I alternate between "Wow, 4 whole years!" and "Really, only 4 years?" as I sit here reflecting.

With the baby, it seems like everything has changed, but really, the foundation behind it all has stayed the same.

Here are some photos through the years - reminders of where we've been so we can look forward to where we're going.

Italia, 2003

Mardi Gras Galveston, 2003

White Sands, NM

Minute Maid Park

Butterflies!

Big Bend National Park, July 7, 2007

Chicago, 2008

Preston is 30!

Stonehenge, 2009

Warriors!

Zoë's first Thanksgiving, 2010

Daycare Drop-off

He: I don't have to work tomorrow.
Me: Great!
He: Will you still drop off the baby at daycare?
Me: Why?
He: I've got a 7:24 tee-time.
Me: You want me to go to work AN HOUR LATE so you don't miss a GOLF DATE?

And so I got to come in at my old, early time today!

Uh oh....

So yesterday P and I were driving in the car and I was talking about getting in my workouts around baby. I said something like this: "Even when I'm on maternity leave, if I want to go out of the house to workout, I'll have to leave The Kid with you. So probably the best thing will be to stick with the current idea of me getting up at 4 and running and showering before you leave a few days a week."

P: "But I'll have to get ready for work. How will I get ready for work with the baby?"













*crickets*













Me: "Ummm... just keep her alive? And how did you expect to make it though the next 18 years??"

Houston, I think we may have a problem!

50 Pictures of Preston with a Fan

Or, how to hang a fan in 13 (NOT) easy steps.

Step 1: mount the new switch plate.

Step 2: look at the hole where the old fan was.

Step 3: look at the stuff in the box. Then quit for the day.

Step 4: mount the thingy that is going to keep the fan from taking out The Kid. Do this after cussing a lot, trying 50 other options and nixing them, and making 3 trips to Home Depot.

Step 5: hang the motor. Hate your wife's nesting intensely. She is responsible for this fan fiasco.

Step 6: attach the blades.

Step 7: poke at the blades with your screwdriver.

Step 8: keep nudging at it.

Step 9: turn on the power!

Step 10: hang the light cover.

Step 11: do something with channel locks. Teach wife what a channel lock is.

Step 12: Yay done!

Step 13: tell wife that fan is your nemesis. You will never hang another one. Fail to realize that there is one more crappy fan in the house that she will surely make you replace. Bask in the glory of your victory.

(Love you, Preston! The fan looks awesome!)

Nesting and Venting

Dear Diary,

(Or at least that's how I feel right now. This is a venty post.)

We bought this house in 2006, knowing that we'd want to replace all the flooring and do some work to it. Every winter since then I've been bugging P to get going with it, thinking that we should do it when it is cold to save ourselves the sweat in "sweat equity". It never happened.

When I found out I was pregnant, one of the first things I said to P was, "I'm not uncrossing my legs for this kid to come out until we have new floors." Along with that was a reminder that it'd be summer soon, and it'd blow to be doing hard-core renovation upstairs during the summer.

The months went by, and he did nothing.

Finally, I started freaking out. My instincts are telling me to nest. I need to create a pretty little room for my kid. Like, now. And I need a place to put all of these wonderful and most welcome baby hand-me-downs that I'm receiving. Right now they are just in a heap in the loft. I don't even know what I have, so I can't tell people what I need!

Finally I bitched and moaned enough for P to start ripping out the carpet in the nursery. That took like a month or more. Waaaaaaay longer than necessary. Held up by stupid shit like he didn't know if the trash guys would pick it up. Finally the carpet is out. Finally the ceiling is scraped. Finally the ceiling is primed and painted (though it needs a few touch-ups before the floor goes down). Finally the walls are painted.

We go today to order the floors - 7 to 10 business days. GRRRRRR. Should have been ordered 4 days ago when we finally agreed on which to get!

I tell him, fine, put in the ceiling fan while I start cleaning out the guest room to get its carpet ripped out, since we lost next weekend to laying floors, we'll rip out carpets next weekend instead.

This fan took hours last night, literally all day today (still not done at 4:30pm), punctuated by tons of cussing and trips to Home Depot.

Ok, I get that there were issues with the fan. The previous owners had totally jury-rigged the thing in there, and it really wasn't safe, and I appreciate that he doesn't want The Kid to die when a fan falls on her. Really, I do. But does he thinking that bitching about it helps? Just get it done.

For that matter, just get it all done. I get that you work all week. So do I. And I get that you miss sitting on your ass all weekend and every evening. So do I. But you've made a baby, and we've got it ticking like a time bomb in my belly EVERY DAY. You can't just ignore this. It isn't going to go away. And this may be the last chance we have for a long while to get this place organized before a mini-tornado descends for 18 years.

I know he doesn't have the same kind of hormonal motivation that I have. I get that. But shit, dude, we're under a deadline here!! I know that by the book I have 3.5 months left. I get that. But what if she's early? What if there are more delays? What if we aren't ready?

I reckon we need 3 weekends to lay the floor upstairs. One for one half, one to move the shit from the unfinished side to the finished side, and one for the other half. And that is under the best of circumstances. So hopefully by the end of July. Hopefully by the end of July. Hopefully by the end of July.....

(I love you, Preston. Truly, I do. I know that you can't understand this right now, but I really believe I have our family's best interests at heart. And yours. If we get this done sooner, you'll have more ass-sitting time before the baby comes. Wait longer, and you'll be doing it by yourself because my usefulness will have expired in a giant vat of baby belly. I appreciate the things you are doing. I just don't understand why it has to be like pulling teeth....??)

From Preston's Lips

Scenario Numero Uno: While playing foozball this weekend, I threatened to walk away from the table unless Preston stopped slamming the ball into my goal as soon as it entered play. (I'm not a poor sport, but I'm never going to get better unless this stops. And I am a slightly poor sport - that's no fun!!) He stopped - for a bit. Then he slam shots another ball home. I say, "Preston, what is the rule when playing foozball?" He says, "To beat the crap out of you at all costs." Then, "Oh, wait, that's my secret rule." Not so secret any more.

Scenario Do(h)s: Last weekend was tax-free weekend in Texas, so I dragged Preston to Kohls, where I also had a $10 coupon. Preston hates shopping, but once in stores he is actually incredibly helpful, with the goal of getting out of there asap. So he was going through a rack of pants looking for my size and he says, "Ok, should I be looking for a 10 or an 8 in these?" I say, "How about a 6??" Damn right I'm buying 6s again. Damn fucking right.

Preston Poo - Part Doo

Last night Preston was reading my blog (my only known reader so far - and he even reads without me asking him to!). He mentioned to me that he especially likes the parts that are about him. In fact, he has admitted to opening the blog and ctrl-fing his name. Apparently he even has no objections to the Preston Poo post (evidenced by his lack of freaking out about it), and that is saying something.

So, babe, this post's for you!

I had forgotten in the Big Bend antics about this follow-up to that particular post.

When we were down in Del Rio we downloaded these really cool pics of the jail in Gonzales to my laptop so we could play with them in Picasa and see how awesome the D-40X was. What came with those awesome pics? Oh yeah. Pics of Preston's Poo. I shit you not.

Preston was so excited about the new Nikon that I checked a book on digital photography out from the library (after all, I work in one) for him. Preston only reads when he is on the poo pot. So I gather that he had just read about some really cool setting that he wanted to try out with the camera (which of course had gone into the bathroom with him so he could play with it while reading about it). For lack of a better subject, he then photographed his poo. Now I can vaguely understand the occurances up to this point. Sort of. I still think I'd have photographed the books on the back of the toilet, or the soap dish on the sink, or the sink faucet, or something other than poo, but I can vaguely see how if you are a boy it might go the way of poo. What I can't understand is that *He didn't delete the photo*. I'm pretty sure that if I ever ever photographed my own shit, I'd delete the photo. You know, 'cause someone might see it.

So, I've now seen Preston's poo. I've now seen human poo that isn't mine. Not in person, and while I'm sure the picture didn't do the smell justice, we'll try to keep it that way.

And I still married him.

Hope I'm still married to him after this post.