One unlikely pitfall of working from home most days is the unexplainable urge to constantly vacuum. I can only chalk it up to how ineffective I find most work meetings or just how strong my need to procrastinate is that I’ll clean before sitting down at my desk.
This week, I was straightening up (in preparation for the addictive vacuuming) and came across a Sharpie cap in the living room. Just the cap. Is there a scarier thing to find as a parent? I immediately checked the walls, carpet, and fur around Dash’s mouth. No joy.
So far the other half of the marker remains missing…
Allison had her first field trip this week. They went to the zoo. There were multiple email reminders about sunscreen. That meant multiple reminders to me that it’s okay not to love being a parent all the time. Some parts just suck. Like dealing with sunscreen at 7:30 in the morning. It’s the black licorice of summer.
We had a plumber stop by recently to fix an outdoor faucet (assuming it ever gets warm enough plant the garden) and he made an offhand comment about “back when we were kids.” I looked around to see who else he was lumping into this inclusive pronoun. Clearly this man was at least 15 years older than me. Or, so I thought.
I’m already very comfortable falling asleep in front of the television by nine o’clock. I regularly need to do ear hair maintenance. It’s been a solid decade since I could even think about sitting cross-legged. You all know I play more dominoes than actually going out to bars. I’m going to chalk up not being able to tell whether a person is 35 or 55 as another sign of aging.
Turns out if you can’t spot the middle aged person in the room….
If you live up here long enough you end up with a story or a connection to the marathon. A little over ten years ago, we were nearing Michelle’s due date and had one last wellness appointment with the doctor. As we were checking out, a nurse handed me a photocopied sheet of paper with hieroglyphics on it. It might have generously been called a map. It was mostly boxes, arrows and a few squiggles.
“They close the roads.”
“If you need to get to hospital during the marathon you’ll have to use the fire road.”
Thankfully, Cecilia missed the marathon by a couple days. Her birth was stressful enough without adding an off-road adventure. The map wasn’t needed but every time marathon monday approaches I think of all the parents nervously sweating out the start time for reasons that have nothing to do with running.
Mid-March in New England means a couple things to me. First, I start arguing with the kids that temperatures in the mid-40’s still means you need to wear something with long sleeves. Second, I need to consider chiseling out some furrows for planting the first peas. Finally, it marks the unofficial start of the spring road racing season. I’ve never met a competition I didn’t like!
5 reasons I still like running 5k’s:
Budget They’re not cheap, but they are cheaper than most other races and you typically get the same snacks for running a lot less.
Competing Many longer events are about enduring your way to the finish. 5k’s are about racing.
Fitness The 5k requires strength, speed, power, and endurance. You can effectively train for a 5k with a variety of workouts not just long runs. It will not only help you run better but also improve your overall health.
No Chafing The risk of nipple bleeding is very low.
Beer & Naps It’s just long enough and takes just enough effort that it totally justifies at least one beer and one short nap when you are done.
We totally took advantage of the beer and nap clause yesterday.
It’s becoming clear as we work our way through fourth grade that while in many ways Cecilia is very similar to me (mostly reserved, easily embarrassed, great hair), she definitely does not learn like me.
This realization, simple as it may seem, has led to more peaceful parenting when she gets home after school. It’s up to me to adapt and let her know that one, her way is legit and acceptable and two, that no matter what, I’m on team Ce and will be there to help her even if it means new math, taking the long way around, or listening to endless facts about Canada.
My #1 job is not to force a certain way or take delight only in accomplishments but to value and love her for the nutty young woman she is becoming, no strings attached.
Neither of us is perfect, but starting from a place of compassion and support and not right versus wrong will hopefully have an impact on us long past fourth grade.
I have a race later today. 10 miles. In February. In New England. Can’t wait.
One the biggest challenges I had with my Addison’s diagnosis and then the knee arthritis was being forced to slow down, and then, stop for a bit. I know many people have a tough time, for various reasons, calling them themselves an athlete. I had a really hard time not seeing myself as an athlete. For as long as I can remember sports and fitness were a daily part of my life. It was a huge piece of how I viewed myself, viewed the world, and approached my place in it. It wasn’t the only way, of course, but it was a big part to suddenly be missing.
I’m trying to teach the girls, or at least show, them that confidence is born out of doing hard things. So a 10-miler on a brisk February morning should be a good example. Their thing might not be sports, but the principles still apply. Rise to meet a challenge, don’t bring a misery mindset. I think we often mistake needing courage, confidence or self-esteem in order to try hard things. This feels backwards to me. We need to embrace a challenge and seek out difficult tasks to explore our own psychology and how we respond. Would I have the courage to take on fourth grade math, glitter slime, or the self-esteem for kitchen karaoke without it? I’m not sure I want to find out.