A little parenting honesty...

I have three children.  They are all boys.  They are 10, 7 and 3.  (screw the oxford comma).  When we go out in public, I inevitably hear, "Bless your heart"  or " Momma's got her hands full today", "Phew, I bet they keep you busy!!!"

It is all very true.  They are exhausting.  I am tired.  Always. tired.  I am always rushing to get to one sporting event or another.  Sometimes we eat in the car.  Drew always has to snack in the car.  (the good news is, if we get stranded for a long period of time, we could survive for DAYS on the goldfish he has dropped in the floorboard).

I love them.  So much.  Yet sometimes I dream of dropping them off at school and driving straight to beach and starting a new life as a beach bartender.  I could be tan and blond and carefree, making margaritas and daiquiris all day long.

But then reality sets in and I remember that Jimmy wouldn't be able to survive without me and they would all be sitting around in filth wondering where their underwear and socks are and when someone is going to start cooking dinner.

So, I continue on.  Refereeing  the fights.  The, "he won't stop looking at me".  The, "he got more pizza than me.".  The crying.  hitting.  punching.  The messes, the spills, the stickiness.  The fact that the bathroom ALWAYS smells, no matter how often I clean it.  The underwear in the kitchen, the socks under the couch (that's where they are!).  The fact that I have to inspect them to make sure they shower and brush their teeth.

I can't type anymore, everyone is being very quiet and that's worse than the screaming.  Much, much worse.

My staycation

I get three weeks off for vacation a year.  I typically use one to take a family vacation.  The other two I use to get projects done around the house that I never have time for.  You know, like matching and folding socks.

Last week I took one of those weeks.  I had some ideas, and I did get some things on my list done.  I refinished a piece of furniture.  I cleaned the microwave (Seriously, that was on my list.  I'm busy, don't judge!).  I spruced up the boys bathroom a little.  Did the laundry.  Took care of my now 3-legged dog. ( He is doing better, getting around without assistance, but still not eating)

I call him hop-a-long

But other than that?  I didn't do anything.  I went to the gym everyday.  I took a few naps. I cooked healthy breakfasts and lunches for myself.  It was delicious. I cleaned a little, but didn't kill myself doing it.

On Saturday, I ran/walked in a 5k supporting breast cancer.  My mother's coworkers formed a team to honor her, and me, my sister, Chris and Luke joined.  Luke had a fever the night before, so he was out.

My sister met with the team at their office for pictures, but I'm a freak about getting places on time and I just didn't want to rush and fight traffic, so we skipped.  The plan was to wait at the back of the start line (with the walkers and strollers!), until my sister got there and then walk the 3 miles.  Well, my sister ended up not participating due to an ankle issue, so that just left me and Chris.

Chris is used to winning.  So when we starting walking, he didn't like that we were in the very back. Even though he had a soccer game later, he decided we should run.  Sigh.  I hate running.  I really do.  I worked out at the gym for at least 1 1/2 hours everyday last week, no problem.  I lifted weights, I did intense intervals on the elliptical.  But I hate running.  It hurts my knees.  6 minutes in, and I am thinking, "I am going to die.  I've been running for hours."   In every other form of exercise, I push myself.  I make myself keep going, even when it hurts.  I do 2 more reps when I don't think I can.  5 more minutes on the elliptical.  A few more squats.  Whatever.  But not running.  (In my opinion, runner's high is the feeling you get when you finally get to stop running!)

So when Chris suggested running, I'll admit, I died inside a little.  I hated being in the back too, but not more than I hate running.  So, we started jogging.  He had no problem weaving in and out of the crowd.  I kept losing him, he'd stop and wait until I caught up.  Finally, I just told him to go ahead, and that my sister would wait for him at  the finish.  So then I was alone.  I could have walked the entire time.  But, I didn't want to get nothing out of it, so I decided to do what I could.

Because we thought we were walking, we had both worn sweaters.  Which were both tied around my waist. Chris's kept falling off as I ran.  I looked like such a jackass, picking the damn thing up and re-tying it 100 times.  Finally around the halfway mark I had MacGyver'd it to my sweater so that it would stay put.  So I ran til I thought I would die, and then I walked.  I repeated that until the end.  When I walked, I kept my pace brisk.  I figured if I got a good calorie burn, I'd at least get to skip the gym later.

My finish time was terrible of course, but each mile was faster than the last.  So I'm happy about that.  The first was 18 minutes, but we walked more and had the burden of weaving in and out of 1000's of people and that damn sweater.  Chris only finished 10 minutes faster than me, and he's a champion swimmer.  He hates running too :)

My legs hurt for the rest of the day.  So sad.

I will say this, I definitely got the racing bug.  When's the next 5k? half marathon?

Yeah, I'm screwing with you.  I'll do the ribbon run again next year, but that's about it.  But if you wanna climb on the elliptical next to mine tomorrow morning, it's on!

(Btw, Did you know that the dude that won the race finished in 15 minutes?   Is he freaking Flash or something?  He ran the entire thing faster than I walked/ran the first mile.  That blows my mind)

It's been awhile

I haven't posted in awhile.  I'm sure you are dying of curiosity about my life and what is going on.

Thankfully, there isn't much to tell.  This year has been total shit.  Let's be honest.  I can say it has been the worst year of my life.  The theme of the year?  CANCER.  My mother.  My father-in-law (and the resulting surgery that removed the cancer but almost killed him).  A couple of my friends' parents as well.  And finally... my dog.

Seriously?  Even my freaking dog?  And not the stupid dog that I can't stand, that eats food out of drew's hands and barks when the wind blows.  But my favorite dog.  My sweet, sweet Reese, who laid-back, calm and everyone's favorite.  He has a giant tumor on his foot.  A tumor that probably could have been removed if I had taken care of it when it first appeared, but I was in the middle of my mother's cancer and just didn't have time for him.  The result?  Next Tuesday, my baby will have his leg AMPUTATED!  I feel a huge amount of guilt for not handling this sooner.  I just honestly forgot about it when I found out about my mom, and then she deteriorated so quickly and demanded all my attention.

Seriously?  Look at this face!

I survived my first birthday without my mom.  It's hard to think of all the "firsts" without her that are coming up.  Halloween.  Thanksgiving.  Christmas.  That one will be the hardest.  The boys' birthdays.  I miss her so much.  I think about her so often.  I don't cry everyday anymore.  But it still hits me out of the blue sometimes.  And sometimes I have the selfish thought that I wish I could go back to the months when she was dying, because at least she was here with me.  What a horrible thing to even think, but at times I am desperate for her.  I am worrying that I will forget her voice.  I can still hear the way she said her name on her voicemail.  I close my eyes sometimes and just hold on to that, hoping I will always be able to recall it.

My grandmother died 8 years ago this August.  She hadn't felt good or been herself in a long time. Her death, like my mother's, was an end to her suffering.  I loved her so much, but I was so happy for her to not be in pain anymore.  I didn't understand why my mom couldn't see that, why she regretting the decision that she had to make to not leave her on life support.  And now I know.  I know that she was just desperately missing her mother and wishing she could have her back.

My mom's coworker's put together a team to walk/run the Liz Hurley Ribbon Run in my mother's honor.  I am very touched but nervous about doing it.  I feel robbed and not sure if I am ready to be surrounded by all of the breast cancer pink everywhere.  Chris and Luke are doing it with me, so we will be walking, and hopefully not sobbing the entire time.