Better late than never....

So... I've been a little busy. OK, a LOT busy.  Miss the Blog.  Just know there are many more posts to come- some are written, some still in thought stage, but either way just need to post (look forward to stories about Paris, striving for a little less crazy in life, and the hilarity that is on-line dating!)

Regardless, it's that time again... Who cares that it's February? Time to put out to the universe my life list for 2013... need to get on the f'ing ball.  Love that I already feel behind. Seriously.

2013 Life List

Explore the East Coast-

o   Walk the Freedom Trail with the girls

o   Go whale watching

o   Eat a lobster in Maine

 

Complete the following:

o   3 5ks (already signed up for a series!)

o   1 Triathlon

o   1 Mud Race Obstacle Course (Dirty Girl Mud Run???)

 

·         Learn how to make Yorkshire Pudding from my parents

·         Plan my 40^th Birthday Party.  (Seriously.  40.  It NEEDS to be a party.)

 

Explore Atlanta like a tourist- such as:

o   World of Coke

o   Stone Mountain Laser show and events

o   Concert at Chastain

o   Centennial Park

o   Carter Center

o   Turner Field

o   CNN Tour

o   Atlanta Botanical Gardens

o   Atlanta Symphony Orchestra

o   The Shakespeare Tavern Playhouse / Georgia Shakespeare

o   Oakland Cemetery

 

 

Time to get started.

 

For What It's Worth

It all started with a ferret.

We were at the pet store picking up a trough of food for the 108lb puppy, when Belle came across the showcase displaying ferrets.  She immediately began oohing and ahhing and aren’t they so cute type of stuff, and of course this led to the question of “Can I have one?”.   Knowing that this child inherited my financial habits (how an equally cute pair of shoes leaves me oohing and ahhing and then I must bring them home with me) I tell her “Sure, as long as you pay for it.” At the price tag of lots more money than she can comprehend, she then asks “So when do I get my allowance?”

The question of allowance in my house is a tough one.  I personally believe that my children should do chores not because they get paid to, but because they are part of the family.  I, in turn, am supposed to supply them with money once a month to teach them fiscal responsibility.  But inevitably the first of the month comes and goes and I forget.  And then we are in a store, and they want a little something, and I oblige.  This is totally against my grand scheme to teach them the value of money, and to not spend it on crap- especially if you are saving for something bigger and better.  But what can I say?  In moments of weakness I forget and sometimes there is just not enough time in the day to explain why you don’t need one more sparkly headband. 

But, determined to get back on track, as soon as we head home I call a family meeting.  I explain that it’s time to revisit the issue of allowance, and that I took full responsibility for my part in the forgetting and the indulging, but the reality is that we need to work together in order to make this system work.  Their part, I explain, is that they were to put together a proposal of what they thought they should earn a month- Belle had to come up with 3 supporting points to her case, and GG had to come up with 5.  From there, we would discuss their proposal, and if I agreed, I would write up a contract agreeing to the terms and we would both sign it. 

Yes, I am that kind of mom.

Belle ran upstairs and was back in 3 minutes.  Literally. Her reasons basically all boiled down to the same thing- because she deserved it.  I told her this was less than a compelling argument, and after explaining what compelling meant she stomped back upstairs- only to return a few minutes later.  Her reasons this time was because I work so hard, because I do my chores well, and because I deserve it.  Clearly, she learned a lesson here…. Yeah- not so much.

GG came down about a half hour after our initial conversation and tried to present to me while standing about 20 yards away.  I told her that was not going to cut it- she needed to look me in the eye and present her case.  She did a good job- while some of the reasons were repeats (Because I do a good job, because I do it well, etc.) I was proud of her for really thinking it through. 

But here is the funny part.

When asked how much they thought they should earn a month, GG, as always, tended on the more conservative side.  Her proposal?  $15/ month.  Belle, on the other hand, clearly puts a much higher value on her precious time- she came to me with a request for $20/ month.

Classic.

After explaining to Belle that far exceeded what I was willing to pay, her next argument was to lobby for at LEAST the same amount as GG, because, of course, they were both living in the same house and had the same number of chores.  I quickly pointed out that first, I pay for the house, and while I could never put a price on how much I valued them both as daughters, you don’t get paid to just be my daughter (although, in hind sight, there might be some validity to this).  Second, the number of chores did not matter as much as what the chores were, and I walked her through how more complex GG’s responsibilities were.  While she was not happy, she begrudgingly agreed that made sense.

So eventually, after the proposals, and talking to my sister for some market price comparisons of what the going rate on allowances were these days, we finally all agreed on an amount.  No, it was not what either of them had initially requested (some more, some less- you can guess which way that turned out), but it was something that I thought was fair and able to sustain all of the “gimmie’s” that might come up along the way.

I hope that their take away is that while you may not always get what you want, you have to ask for it.  And really, more than just ask for it, but justify it with solid evidence to support the request.

Good thing I provide this justification to myself every time I come across a cute pair of shoes. 

Funny, regardless of the reasons, I always happen to agree.

Setting Expectations

Here we are- just a few days before my first Triathlon.  Even writing those words together- “My” and “Triathlon” are still a little foreign to me.  I know that I have been working toward this goal for almost 6 months- and not just building up my stamina for the swim, bike and run portions, but  there has been so much mental preparation as well.  There was the signing up- because you know, once I am committed to something, there is no backing down.  Then I started researching training plans, and after those initial first laps in the pool where after  100 meters I thought I might drown in exhaustion, not letting that discourage me and instead drive me to improve.   Then there is the equipment- new running shoes (yay!), purchasing a bike (used),  learning to clip in on the bike (yeah, that was comical- 20 minutes on the first try), forgetting you are clipped in when you stop (aka- you fall over), and that is not to mention the special gloves, socks, racing belt, sunglasses, goggles, and the ever glamorous tri-suit (you know what is not attractive?  Me- in spandex.)  Anyway, I have navigated through all of that, and with the event only days away, I all mixed up with this combination of nervousness and excitement.

I think more nervous than excited, but it depends on the moment.

I know this is not an Iron Man, but for me it has nothing to do with the distance, it has everything to do with being there.  Setting a goal and accomplishing it.

Which is where the whole “setting expectations” part comes in.

Shortly after I had signed up for the race, I went and researched the previous few years winners in my age category.  I found the best times for each segment of the race, as well as the best transition times.  Clearly, I was going to beat all of these- on my first time out, nonetheless.  To say I have high expectations of myself is not a surprise, and ok, I MAY tend to set the bar a little high sometimes, but I don’t think that being a goal driven individual is a bad thing.  The challenge comes when someone such as myself sets an expectation, and then holds yourself to the standard of either you are the best- or you are not.  And if you aren’t the best, then what does that make you?  Ahhhhh…. There’s the rub.  No one sets out to say- yes, my goal is to be mediocre!  I want to come in with the rest of the pack!

Again, the lessons we are forced to learn…..

The reality is that Life has a way of happening, and in between the demands we all face, I was not always able to check every box in that very detailed training plan that I so diligently researched in the beginning.  I did not make the cycling club practices, nor was I able to complete an open water swim.  I know- all this is less than ideal.  And after my first few transitions going from a 20 mile bike to trying to run at all was nearly impossible, I seriously started to question my ability that I was going to finish, let alone make the best time. 

One giant piece of humility coming up!

Now I have a different set of expectations.  And while I jokingly tell people that my new goal is to just not have the paramedics carry me off the course, the reality is that I have faith in my ability to at least get it done.  I won’t be fast, I may have to walk (although I really hope not), but I WILL cross the finish line.  And regardless of what the official race clock shows,  I will feel like a champion when I do, because that is my own race- with myself- that I will have won.  I will have achieved my personal best by just going out and doing something that I have never done before.  I am acknowledging that just finishing  is something wonderful.  And hopefully, moving forward, I will be able to apply that same philosophy to other parts of my life- that being the best me is the best accomplishment, the best reward, that there is.

One step at a time, I know I will get to that finish line. 

Life of Yes

Sitting along the sidelines of the soccer field, I was chatting with a fellow mom in between goal saves and corner kicks about how I was headed downtown that night to go check out a new restaurant and then a roof top bar with a girlfriend of mine.  Her reaction was “Wow, you have lived here a year and already done more than I have in the past 10.”  Surprisingly, this is not the first time I have heard that response.  In some ways, I am like a newlywed with this city I now call home;  over the initial hopelessly in love phase, you know- where even the quirks are cute and you find them endearing.  Now, I realize, they are just quirks.  And yes, I may wake up one day and realize that the city has left its socks on the bathroom floor AGAIN  and we may just end up having our first fight, but for now I am certainly enjoying this infatuation phase while I can get it.

But the reality is that my life was not always this way.  My life used to be composed of a lot of no.  Personally, when wanting to try something new, the thought of what would happen if it didn’t work out, or just to many “to-do’s” to fit in a little adventure prohibited me from actually trying.  And I would certainly never have gone someplace by myself.  I would be embarrassed to show up without a friend in tow- as if the scarlet letter A actually stood for Alone.  I was also faced with a lot of what I call road blocks.  Looking back, the relationship I was in provided a lot of “that is just too much work to make happen” or “I really don’t want to do that- but you go” type of stuff.  Road blocks that I should have found a way around, but instead I allowed them to stop me in my tracks.  How sad is it that I missed out on so many wonderful life experiences.  Regardless of the why, I was  the holder of my own destiny and for whatever reason felt that I had to have affirmation that yes, you should do that, before I actually took the first step. 

Now, I choose to live a life of Yes.  Yes, I will go on that trip where all we have prepared is a full tank of gas and maybe a place to stay- the rest we will figure out as we go. Yes I will try a new restaurant, sporting event or singles group when the opportunity presents itself.  Yes, I will make sure I go to the Farmer’s Market on the square when I feel like it just because it makes me happy.  And why not check out that country western bar?  It doesn’t have to be my favorite place, and chances are that I will never return, but for me, it’s all about the experience.  (And the boots. Can’t forget the boots.) 

I realize that life is busy.  It’s hard.  There is always “something” going on.   But I had to live through a life changing event in order to gain my Yes back- never again will I let the routine of daily life be the reason to hang on to the No.  What is it that you want to experience?  What have you been thinking about in the back of your mind to try, just to see if you might like it?  It doesn’t have to be difficult.  Walk the downtown of a city that you have never been to before.  Sign up for that photogrophy class- you don't have to be the next Annie Liebovitz or Ansel Adams- making yourself happy is reason enough.  Attend a summer festival in a neighboring state.  Go check out that place you have driven by 100 times and each time said “I really want to go there.”   Or, if you are really daring, get out that Life List and start checking things off. 

You never know what you might discover- about your surroundings, and about yourself.

Yes.

Skate On My Good Man, Skate On

So the other day Belle was feeling particularly in the dumps, and I asked her what was going on.  She commented on how everything lately was all about GG- she had to sit through soccer games, listen to drum lessons, and witness the end of year hoopla that is the conclusion of the 5^th grade.  I have to say, hard to argue with logic.  The truth is that was exactly what our lives had been like over the previous few weeks, and in all honesty Belle had been a trooper- a trooper with a pouty lip, but trudged along nonetheless.  Despite months of constant requests of “Just choose an activity and I will sign you up!” there had been nothing that resonated with that little girl, so hence, for now, it is all about GG’s activities.

So, I told her that one day that weekend we would do something just for her, and she could pick what it was.  Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed “Sparkles!”

Sparkles is the resident roller rink.  My Georgia Skateland for all my Michigan friends.

Oh.

Sunday afternoon arrived and off we went.   Little did I realize what a lucrative business this skating thing was as I passed over $33 at the door just to get in.  This did not include the laser tag or any snacks.  Just skates.  But as I mentioned, Belle has wasted hours on the sidelines and eating lunch on the run in the backseat as we travel from one activity to the next, so in reality $33 didn’t seem like much price to pay. 

The second we walk in, it could have been $50 and I would have paid it all over again just to see that aura of happiness that radiated from her.

As we got in line to retrieve our skates (oh, yes folks, you know I did) I glanced around at the establishment.  I swear, aside for the current top 40 playing on the sound system, I could have been 11 years old and striding into Skateland with my freshly polished red, white and blue skates sporting my Michael Jackson Beat It jacket (Oh, yes folks, you know I did).  There must be some agreement with all skate establishments that there is a requirement for neon paint on the walls, everything must be covered in industrial type carpet, and they somehow, someway, pipe in the smell.  I swear- it is identical everywhere- some nameless combination that could only be called “Scent of Skatehall”. 

By this point everyone’s laces are tied up (GG, clearly to cool for skates, goes inline) and I very wobbly stand up.  By the time I am almost vertical Belle is already on the floor, stomping her feet that resemble tree trunks as they are weighed down with almost- too-big-for-her skates, trying to gain some momentum.  Arms outstretched at her sides for balance, as if she is about to take flight any minute, she makes her way around the first curve.  But when I look at her, all I see is that smile.  The smile that says she is living in the moment- the moment that was created for her, by her.

I place one wheeled foot on the floor that I am positive in some cruel twist of fate was just waxed , and wonder why I was not asked to sign a waiver.   Like an entire hold harmless to any injuries you are about to subject your body to type of waiver.  Hoping all insurance coverage is up to date, I tentatively skate out and join the girls. Hmmm… I think…  I may actually remember how to do this….. and just like riding the proverbial bike within minutes I was coasting around the oval with a tense but genuine smile on my face.  Memories of couples skate, skating races and “shoot-the-duck” flood my consciousness, and when Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin” comes on the speakers I swear it is 1984. 

We stayed for a few hours and we all genuinely had a good time.  I loved seeing how the girls continued to get better with each turn of the rink as fear took a back seat to confidence.  While it was a day that was just for Belle, selfishly,  I will take some of the memories we created and combine them with previous ones from my youth.  Either way, it’s a good reminder to sometimes stop the to-dos and just skate on.

By The Numbers

I have had this Blog for a little more than a year. 

Wow- what a difference a year makes.

I won't get into all the reflection I have been doing (will save that for another post) but I will say that it has been very interesting to go back and read some of my previous posts.  They are fairly raw and transparent, but let me tell you,  reading your own words and reflecting on where your life was- and is still progressing through- is, for me, the best version of cheap therapy I can find.


If you will indulge me, here are a few interesting statistics over this past year:

• Total Page Views:  4202.  Now, a lot of public Blogs get that a day, so that number may not be impressive to some.  When I think about that number,  I can't believe that many people have taken the time to read what I have captured here.
• Audience includes United States, Germany, Denmark, Russia, United Kingdom, Singapore, Canada, Austria, Hungary and Colombia.   For me this is very humbling.  To think there is someone over in Singapore reading the story of how I killed my first cockroach is amazing.
•  My favorite post- Fighting With Elephants.  Boy, that just sums a lot up right there.
• Second most viewed post- it's a tie between The Last Hurrah and Mourning 93 views each
• The most viewed post (by a land side) is A History Lesson . 785 views to date.  I'm sure that there is something to be said about that, however I think the number says it all.  

What I find most interesting, though, is that even when I don't have the opportunity to write and post here, I am often thinking about it.  Everything from how I feel it is a personal affront to women that we are basically forced to check a bag when we travel (way to many cosmetics for carry on) to the larger challenges and irony of life.  And sometimes, how checking a bag can remind you of the irony of life.  Just sayin'.

I love that I allow myself the freedom to post when and what I want, and don't feel pressure to "keep up" the Blog.  As much as I love the encouragement, feedback and comments, this is something that I do just for me.  Shouldn't we all do more of that? (See- getting into the reflections piece even when I'm trying not too!)

So, with that in mind, I wanted to say thanks for anyone that has taken the time out of your busy life to allow my words to live with you for a few minutes.  Thank you for allowing me to share this journey with you.  It's kind of like I know you are there with out you really being there- a private, silent, invisible cheering section if you will.  And I really appreciate it. 

As I continue to write here, and who knows what other topics may come up?  One thing is for sure,  I can pretty much guarantee it won't be boring.

The Other Mom

If you all only knew how many things I wish I could post on, but never seem to find the time to actually get them captured... or, like in this instance, I do end up writing them down, and then fail with the follow through to actually post them online.  If you will indulge me, I came across this post that I wrote in, um, well, ok- it was September- but hey, it's up here now so, enjoy! : )



Let’s face it.  I am not like other moms.

I am and have always been a little on the outskirts when it comes to what a “normal” mom looks like.  There are times that I wish I could be that stay at home mom, connected and aware of every happening going on in their kid’s school- who likes whom, who is no longer BFF’s, the protocol for lunch room visits, who the cool teachers are and who you do NOT want your kid to be friends with.  But mostly I am on the outskirts of that, and while I think I like to know the key points, the details have never been my strength.

I am just wired a little different.  Believe me- I bow down to all stay at home moms- you do a job that I could never successfully accomplish.   It is so much harder than what I do.   In fact whenever I meet a male in the business world I make sure to ask “Does your wife work outside the home?” because God only knows you are already working in it. Anyway, in life I have always  been the career driven one, the breadwinner for the last half of my marriage, and certainly make no mistakes- working outside the home is something that I take pride in and enjoy.

But, as we women know, even if you are on a strong successful  career path, when you have kids the picture changes.  Now you are a working mom. 

When was the last time you heard someone referred to as a working dad?

Regardless, the reality is that we all do what we need to in order to get by.  I travel and yes, get to stay in hotel rooms in places like Boston and Chicago, eat out and (occasionally) fly first class.  I can’t tell you how many times I have had a mom say to me “What I wouldn’t give for that!”  And I get it.  There is a part that seems like it might be wonderful to travel (and sometimes it is, sometimes it’s not) and be independent (but lets not forget, that also means without your kids).   Some moms never have to make that choice, to leave their kids with someone else because they need to work, and for me that is certainly something that I am jealous of.  But I also will not make excuses- I am proud of what I do, and lucky enough to also love it.  Let’s face it- I will never be that mom that knows the name of every teacher/ office manager/ library aide at their kids school, hangs out with other moms after drop off to catch up on the latest dirt, or sews a handmade Halloween costume.  I am the mom that pulls items out of the dress up bin, slaps some flour on your face, and says you are now a chef- Happy Halloweeen.  I am the mom that writes memos to teachers like business proposals and cc’s myself (for my records).  I am the mom that would love to chat with you, except the Blackberry is permanently attached to my ear.  However, I would also like to think that I am also the mom that teaches her girls that it’s ok to have a career if that is what they choose, to be independent and have a can-do attitude, and most importantly, that I love them fiercely and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

But today, I get to be the “other” mom.  It’s Belle’s birthday, and I took the day off work.  I get to bring the homemade cupcakes into school for my daughter’s birthday, and help her pass them out at lunch.  I get to see her off to school in the morning, and be waiting for her at the bus stop in the afternoon.  I get the first report out of the day- minutes after it ended- and not a 10 minute phone call before bed time recapping the highlights. I get to make the dinner of her choice, and let her use the “I Am Special” plate.  Today, I get to be there for it all- no distractions, no juggling appointments, no work.

Today I get to be that mom.

And the reality is that there is no right or “normal” way to be the best parent to your child; we all do the best we can, in the moment.

Because at the end of the day, there isn't really anything more important that the fact that you are just somebodys mom, regardless of what kind of mom that is.