Winging it...

I've really wanted to blog for a long time, but was overwhelmed by, well, life.  Aren't we all.  Also I was overwhelmed with that blank screen and cursor winking at me repeatedly.  That said, I am nearly finished with a writing class that has been so awesomescaryfuneyeopeningaffirmingencouraging.  So I am going to start putting my life out there (here). Best of luck to me. I just patted myself on the back.

Life is good. I am thankful for friendships. Grateful for strong women to connect with and share the aches and pains. I love my kids, love my husband. I love running. Ran my first marathon in November. Trying to enjoy the process of life. Not "back then" and not "when I get there." The road is bumpy but one that I want to travel.

Am I an Optomist or a Realist

WTH?  I don't even know.

It's very difficult explaining to people who care to ask.  But.  The only thing I have is that my step-mother-in-law is now facing "incurable, Stage IV (eff those roman numerals) breast cancer."  I hate it.  How do I describe my relationship with Charlotte?  It's hard because sometimes I worry about who I might piss off.  Like, MY mother?  My "blood" mother-in-law...

Charlotte is my go-to girl.  I have my go-to guy, but she is next in line.  And sometimes first in line.  That's just how girlfriends are.  But she's not my "friend" specifically.  She's  not my "mil" specifically.  What is she to me?  She is who I call after I drop Lucy and Quin off at school and I have a 15 minute drive to Emmett's school.  She's who I text, not all that often, because I would rather hear her voice, but...

I Am Not Above This

I don't believe in leashes.  Really I don't.  And I don't think I will ever use one, just so we're clear.  BUT I used to say I would NEVER use one.  Never ever and now I don't think I will ever use one.  So, we'll see how slick this slide is.

Emmett is a runner.  He either runs 20 yards ahead of me into a parking lot or lags 37 paces behind me on walks back from the park.  I have tried "heel", but he isn't getting the concept.  Kidding.  I don't tell my kid to heel, silly.  But I think it.  And I write about it. 

Just wanted to let you know where I'm at.

It's Fun To Stay At The...

I got a job today.  At the gym.  In the child care.  I always never ever said I would do that.  For me the gym is a place where I go to get MY time.  But, desperate times, well, not DESPERATE desperate, but just, I NEED SOME FREAKING MONEY HONEY desperate times call for desperate measures.

Perks include:

• I can bring my kids
• I get a free membership
• I get free classes
• It's just two mornings a week 
• I get a discount on what I pay for childcare
• I can work out at work
• I get paid.  A VERY LITTLE TINY BIT.

Non-perks include:

• I can bring my kids
• I don't really want to work out at work
• I get paid.  A VERY LITTLE TINY BIT.

I'm excited/I'm not excited.  I have tons of experience.  I think I once read something somewhere about not sh!tting where you eat though.  

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

We have been getting rid of baby things as Nolan finishes with them. Some of them have left me with a twinge of sadness, but none have made me as heartbroken as saying goodbye to my trusty breast pump.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND! I hate despise loathe detest abhor pumping. With my first three kids I was working, so every morning I would rise early and pump before leaving for work (even on days when I wasn't working I would do this to build my stash). I would then pack everything up and lug it to work, breaking to pump at lunch and sometimes once in the afternoon. What a pain in the ass.

I suppose it's saying goodbye to a relationship. We laughed together, cried together, paid bills over the phone together ("hope you don't mind the sound of my treadmill!"), surfed the internets together, OH GOD DID WE EVER!

My best friend is about to have a baby and I am delivering said pump to her. This weekend. And even though I haven't pumped in MONTHS (N refuses bottle), I swear. to. god. i. am. going. to. have. me. one. last. pump. in. the. morning.

STFU

I love STFU parents. It is a hilarious website and I certainly have people in my life who fit the bill. Actually considering submitting a few updates from a friend of mine currently. It's just maddening. I love STFU so much that I think I would like to see another one started.

STFU WORKOUT MANIACS!!! you know who you are. The ones who post a fb status about the fabulous "tempo run" you had tonight at the gym. Sometimes you write about food too. Sometimes you're really really lame like Ryan S**** on my friends yesterday posted that he had RAN 1.06 miles with a time of 16:04. Er, Ryan, that's called WALKING. I know I know, I've been guilty of this in the past, but thankfully I have seen the light y'all. No. One. Cares. Except. You. So keep it to yourself.

Exceptions are: marathon runners (hey, I'll even give you a 1/2 marathon) and Ironman Triathalon finishers, also Special Olympics. Go ahead and give a little shout out. You deserve it. But still, we don't need the nitty gritty details of your training schedule.