Life as an Asker

At 8:00pm tonight I found myself eating dinner on the floor in the kitchen. I didn’t have the energy to get to the table, so I slumped right next to the stove. I enjoyed eggs, potatoes and “fresh from the garden” green onions, parsley and green peppers (Thanks Luke and Amber Olson!).

As I cleaned up after myself (novel idea, this CLEANING up after one uses the kitchen…) I reflected that if I could write a book right now, I would title it something like, “Eating Standing Up.” Or “Never Sitting Down, Even to Eat.” Something like that. I can’t count how many meals I eat while standing, making lunches, cleaning up the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher or doing dishes and figure how busy and tired I am. When Brian is away, I would estimate 3 of my meals every day are eaten while standing in the kitchen. (the other 2 may be on the floor haha!)

This cannot be healthy, if I were to do research I’m sure I don’t digest as well, metabolize the right stuff nor do I rest really then even while shoveling in a meal.

I ran across an Anne Lamott quote yesterday that encouraged us to imagine we are serving our pastor when we plan to put food into our mouths. We should think of others, even while filling our own bellies. That way we treat ourselves better and probably don’t eat an entire can of Pringles for lunch. (See Anne Lamott’s Facebook profile, August 19).

Well, Anne, although I am not thinking of my favorite pastor, I am thinking of my kids, hubs, friends who will be coming tomorrow to help dig out a deck disaster and yes, somewhere I am thinking of myself and my health.

Eating has been tricky the last 14 days as I gimp around. Since I’m not burning an extra 1,000 calories running or taking classes at the Y, I find eating less to be just as hard as a work out. I can’t sneak Ben and Jerry’s 2 times a day. I can’t eat my chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter… Well I could but I won’t let myself.

I do some other things now that I’m home more and that is part of making the lemonade.

And in all my free time, I finally painted my nails for the first time in weeks.

I have upgraded to snazzy compression “sleeves” for my leg. It is essentially a very tight sock minus the foot part. I don’t need crutches anymore and can go down the stairs. Yay.

I took a few hours the other day to go through “the bins.” These are huge plastics tubs in our laundry room filled with clothing, organized by size and gender. I have lots. I went through the boys’ tubs and found 4 bags of size 6 clothing. Wow. Emptied out a whole tub and gave bags of clothing away to friends. Plus found stuff Elam can now wear, stuff XS can wear without his wrists popping out and things for school like shoes for Elam that don’t stink to high heaven (where did he get such STINKY FEET!?)

Family of ours went to school at Virginia Tech – go HOKIES! It fits!

I also did things this week like take weights and my yoga mat on the deck, tried out my gimpy leg with squats, planks and push ups. Elam wanted to join me so he could get help so I broke my “no Legos on the deck rule” and we finished his Indiana Jones set that morning in the sunshine. Sometimes I have a very, easy, sunny job.

We also found some of the boys clothes appealed to my fashion-forward daughter. Score on the cable knit sweater for my daughter who strangely LOVES grey!

Tonight I was painting my toenails, opening a package of Dove soap (the smell reminded me of my sisters so I texted them and had a great texting chat for a while – love love love that) and talking with Calista as she showered, I realized I have hardly sat down long enough this summer to paint my nails. Really. That’s just too busy.

So as we brushed teeth together, Calista and I planned to start and finish one more book before school. I got to read her a chapter in Anne of Green Gables series when Anne is about to get married. What a great ending to this day.

“It goes fast, Sandi, enjoy being a mom,” said my sister tonight.

Ok big sis. I’ll try.  I might even try sitting at the table tomorrow.

I have no idea how to start writing about the last 8 days of my life.  Nothing traumatic has happened, really.  Nothing completely life changing.  But challenging nonetheless for this “SAHM”* who hates to sit around, at home, and STAY.

I probably tore a muscle in my calf (or technically my “gastrocnemius” but whenever I say that no one knows what I mean.)  Doing a step class at the Y.  About 30 minutes in, I stepped back off a high step and it literally felt like I blew out my calf.

2 years ago, I left the Y in tears after spraining an ankle. It was like an ugly deja vu.

This time I hobbled down the elevator again, all the way to the hot tub, thinking I had just pulled something and heat might help.  Oh dolly.  I couldn’t straighten my leg afterwards and a lifeguard helped me into the showers.  Then brought me crutches.

Thankfully Brian was in the same class (which he finished, I’ll add with only a little bit of bitterness). He got the van, lifted me out of said van when we got home and basically took over for a few days while I hobbled around.

I told people I was like Barbie:

Please ignore the rose colored carpet. It’s not my choice!

I couldn’t flex my foot so I had to walk on my toes, making my foot look like Barbie.  Too bad I don’t have those Barbie legs to go with the feet…

Well I wrapped this leg like it was my job, iced and took ibuprofen on schedule and still couldn’t bear weight for over 24 hours so off to the doctor I went.  She confirmed the tear theory and gave me the good news: in 4-6 weeks I should be ok!

Anyone who knows me knows 4-6 minutes sitting still is a challenge for me.  3 kids, a slight (ok, maybe large) addiction to exercise, running and taking Y classes, summertime fun in general and housework does NOT leave me much time to elevate and rest a leg, you know what I mean?

But let me tell you: for 8 straight days, I have had angels for kids, a servant for a husband and rock stars for friends who check in on me.

The day it happened Elam decided he would accompany me to the thrilling adventure of buying an Ace wrap at Walgreens.  The kid opened the van door for me, held my purse and helped even with my crutches as I struggled to get out of the van.  Who doesn’t love this kid?!

Grown from a seed he received last March at Kindergarten round up. He has cared for this thing from Red Solo Cup to this!!

My husband took over and brought the kids to his softball game, took care of said children while he mowed, cooked and cleaned up the house for a few days.

He went to get every ibuprofen, sock or water bottle I needed.

XS loved getting and putting away the ice pack.

And Calista basically just took care of everything else and held my hand when I needed her to.

It was a very busy week included a trip down to Minneapolis for a precious few hours with a college roommate/soulmate/ministry partner and her family at a playground picnic.  Then helping Brian’s parents try to get ready for a 35-person family reunion which we would miss part of for a wedding.  Dear family friends of ours had a wedding Saturday.  I have known the groom since he was 5 and his (now!) wife are both working for InterVarsity.  Elam was the ring bearer.  Brian and I read Scripture.

He did a great job and we had a wonderful time! But wow, the pain of all of that walking and pretending not to be in pain took its toll and Sunday I hurt.

Now if any of you are still reading this boring description of not a very interesting injury, here is what I really want to say:

REST IS HARD! It’s hard because I really do think I can do everything. I think I can take care of it all (oh shoot, I just realized I have laundry downstairs I never finished today!)

It’s hard to admit you are a failure. It’s hard to slow down and wait for others to do things their way.  It’s hard to allow Brian to parent through a situation I would handle completely differently (and probably better, right?)

The ironic thing is that before the class that broke me, I was talking with another mom.  My kids were with me and let’s just say they were waiting to be their angelic selves for AFTER my injury.

She asked me, with a smirk, “So how’s the day going?”

I admitted to her, and another mom who was listening, that before 8:00am that day I had lost my temper and yelled at the boys already.  I also said, “You know, it’s always nice to get the idea that you’re holding it all together out of the way early in the day.  It’s humbling but it’s nice to not have to maintain that delusion for very long.”

A few other things were shared about parenting and how hard it is and how we mess up all of the time.  My friend then said to me, “Sandi, you’re making me feel pretty damn normal.”

I laughed so hard and felt a relief of being honest with someone.

It’s also becoming a relief to be injured.  I walk slower and enjoy some things longer.  I have watched the kids serve me in new ways.  I have sat more to read, watch some funny TV (Thank You Jesus for Jimmy Fallon) and been able to do some tasks (like burn CD’s for my MIL*) that normally I wouldn’t.

I am also grateful for that ankle sprain a few years if only because I learned I can swim and enjoy it.  I am sure I’ll be back in that pool a lot this month.

My kids are grateful for a break from the Y and getting up and going every day.  My house is actually getting some project done because I am here more.

So I am trying to make the lemonade.  And for a change, I have my feet up and have time to drink some.

*SAHM: Stay at Home Mom
*MIL: Mother in Law

“Now the Lord provided a huge fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.”  Jonah 1:17

Many of you are familiar with this story.  Jonah had received a word from the Lord but refused to obey.  God wanted to use Jonah to save a people that Jonah was less than enthusiastic about visiting and helping escape God’s wrath.  He literally bought a boat ticket out of town, going in the opposite direction.  Not one to let His people out of His grasp, God sent a wind to fall upon the seas and Jonah knew it was to get his attention.  Jonah got the sailors to toss him into the waves and the storm ceased.

The drama was just beginning for Jonah.

It says God sent that wind but then He sent a fish to swallow Jonah.

I read this the other night and I thought to myself, was Jonah like: “oh whew!  I almost drowned.  Good thing this fish came along, opened up its giant jaws and sucked me in like dessert!  I am so blessed!”

The following chapter in the book of Jonah almost makes it seem as if he did sing out. (I wonder if the acoustics in the belly were amazing – all that water, a round, reverberating dome…).  It tells us Jonah was feeling as if he were drowning and thankfully, God saved him.

However, I’m not sure which of the 3 days inside that belly this praise song hit its first note.

If I had been Jonah, which actually I think I am in SO MANY WAYS, I wouldn’t have gone with the grateful attitude.

I’d have been more like: DUDE! Ick.  Slimy, stupid fish!  I am a HUMAN.  You don’t eat humans!  You are supposed to eat seaweed, or I don’t know – other FISH.

Or maybe I’d thought: great.  Death by fish.  Really?! What an awful way to die!

Or maybe the scientist in me would come out: I didn’t think there were really fish this big who could actually swallow a person.  I wonder what happens next?  Like will the stomach acids slowly break me down into fish pellets?

Well, Jonah and I will be neighbors in heaven.  Just like Jonah I have felt numerous times as though God has sent me to my least favorite people: little ones.  When I had a barely 1 year old and an unpotty trained almost 3 year old, I felt like I lived the life of a prophet like Jonah.  I didn’t want to go where God was sending me.  If I could have bought a ticket in the opposite direction (say, order college students instead of babies), I would have.

Jonah had been called to a people he obviously didn’t want to help and he ended up headfirst in the seas, drowning.  “Luckily” for him, the big-mouth was sent and the FISH obeyed.  The fish went where he was supposed to, in order to save one guy who hadn’t.

I am now with a third kid and know God is sending me… well, nowhere actually.  Instead of going, I am called STAY: to be a Stay At Home Mom (SAHM) that is.  It is not my idea of God really saving me, using me (enough) and having a good plan for my life.

I feel most days as if I too have been swallowed by some huge whale.  The whale called “kids don’t need to be running around today so let’s just stay home and play Legos.”  The whale called “stay at the playground another 30 minutes because they are having fun and you don’t really need to move on to the next thing.”  The whale called “find that Lego piece in the bucket which is really the Bermuda Triangle instead of doing the dishes piled in the sink.”  Or the whale called “don’t go for your regular, favorite, fast-paced, high calorie burning YMCA class because the kids really, REALLY, really do not want to go anywhere today before 11:00am.”

No top front teeth, now missing another on bottom. Needless to say, corn on the cob is no fun this summer.

Boys at the cabin, “driving” the pontoon.

The whale and I are not friends yet.

The smell, the sitting still, the water sloshing, the unknown things floating around me, the obvious seasickness and the darkness would have just done this girl in.  I cannot imagine those 3 days Jonah endured inside the belly.

He was stuck.  In the dark.  Out of control.

Not my idea of a 3 day vacation.

I cannot imagine how he came to the place where he actually said,

“Those who cling to worthless idols
    turn away from God’s love for them.
⁹ But I, with shouts of grateful praise,
    will sacrifice to you.
What I have vowed I will make good.
    I will say, ‘Salvation comes from the Lord.’” (Jonah 2:8-9)

Did you catch the GRATEFUL PRAISE part?

I read all kinds of blogs, articles and Facebook posts of moms (and some of you dads even!) who post pictures of their messy kids, sleeping babies or family hiking trips and just briefly, but passionately express their gratitude with this season of life.  There are those precious moms and babes, dads and baseball stars and families beaming into the camera (probably on their phones) and the simple words “my heart.”

Friends, I am just not there very often.

Oh I’d like to be.  Peaceful activity of raising 3 children who are never quiet, even while falling asleep (Elam kicks and has fits of 5 year old “boy” and Calista takes at least 30-45 minutes of thrashing complaining and sighing before giving up for sleep).  Smiling serenity while 3 kids invent new ways to argue in our narrow bathroom while “brushing teeth.”  Tonight Elam came out after 3 minutes with his sister in the bathroom with scratch marks covering his chest.

Seriously I can’t even fake it for a paragraph of dreaming of peaceful parenting, blissfully grateful for these balls of energy…

I just am not there praising in the belly.

But some glorious day I may embrace the whale…Sigh.

But darn it, when Jonah did do you know what happened next?

Verse 10, immediately following Jonah’s prayer, it says, AND I QUOTE:

 ^“And the Lord commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land.”

BLECH! EW. VOMIT people.

Any parent knows what it is like to be covered in their own child’s vomit.  Just imagine now it’s a big fish and the vomit that has been spewed has been your bed, footrest and shampoo for the last 3 days.

People: I love that God does this to Jonah.  I really do.  First a fish saves his sorry butt then He rescues him from said fish through hurling him, literally, onto a beach.

That dry land must have felt ah-mazing to Jonah.  The sunshine, grass under his feet and the fresh air.

The vomit, not so much.

You can’t make this stuff up people.  If someone made up the story of Jonah, they did a rip-roaring job.

Until you consider that God may just have a plan.

Can we find Him even in the belly of a dark fish?  How about a pile of vomit?

What if that whale is just what I am to be thankful for?  And that vomit may just be salvation for me?

These kids may be the death of me, IF I let them.  They may also point the way to salvation.

Hopefully someday I will be thankful for this whale.  And the vomit.

Well, one year and a few weeks.

June 23, 2014 we met our XS.

We should have known this kid was smart.  He quickly learned enough words to play with his siblings, tell us for certain whether he loved watermelon or HATED the pool.  He lifted his arms and asked to be held.  And we tried to meet his needs.  Even when that watermelon threatened to stain the shirt he received from ba-ba policeman (the man who found him, checked in on him and visited him for 3.5 years, until the day before we took him to be an Asker.)  Even though we loved swimming and wanted to make him like it, we tried to be flexible.  Even when it was hotter than Hot-Lanta (people from Atlanta told us it was) we picked up this sweet kid and hauled him all around the hottest cities we have ever tried to tour.

We should have known it would have been hard.  We struggled to know how to completely understand all he was going through.  We watched his silent tears when he fell asleep.

We knew it would be hard when we struggled with jet lag times 3 in the middle of the night and then mid-day with 2 who were wide awake when it was light out. We knew it would be hard when we had forms, after forms, after forms, after forms to fill out, keep track of and then only come to lose right before taxes. We should have known…

We should have known it would completely wreck Elam’s world. When he struggled to give up his favorite pair and now too small pajamas to this little brother who seemed to get all the attention. When he always got blamed when his little brother was crying. When he went off to preschool but then got home only to find his little brother was getting into all of his stuff.

We should have known Calista would really take the brunt of feeling left out now as the only little girl. We might have foreseen her struggle to be “the only one is alone at night with no one in her room.” When she went to school all day, every day, and never really got to bond with her little brother who seems to love his big brother and daddy more than anyone else. When every single time she tried to hug her little brother, he gave out a loud pterodactyl scream. When she just craved girl dates and girl time and little brothers to just stay out of her room!

We should have known we would have to sacrifice. The grocery budget adjustment. The lack of sleep. The scrounging for hand me down shoes that XS could navigate without a pterodactyl scream. The additional laundry, bathroom cleaning and meal planning.

We should have known our marriage would take a hit. When we would be so tired we would fall asleep right after dinner on the couch. When we couldn’t leave the house without 66% of our kids having a tantrum. When we never had a 3 minute conversation without interruption. When one spouse had to travel every other week, for 9 months in a row.

How very, very tired I am most days. How I need a nap as often as I can get it. How my marathon seemed like a cakewalk compared to parenting. How I would let my hair grow white/silver (?) simply because it gives me one less thing to keep up with. How dusty I allow my house to get now compared to 7 years ago when I would dust 2-3 times a week. How the carpet is dirty from 3 pairs of muddy feet from our backyard. How people at the Y ask me, Now HOW many kids do you have?

We should have known all of this, after reading adoption blogs, books and articles. We should have known it would be harder than we thought. We should have known…

But if we had, would we have obeyed the call to adopt? If we had known, would we have challenged ourselves, our kids and our families with all of this?

I don’t know if we would have.

But I do know that had we known that we would laugh while scooping serving spoon sized dessert into every Asker mouth at dinner, I would have done it sooner.

If I had foreseen how my 2 kids who have always been BFF would simply add another BFF to the mix. How Calista would lead the boys to imaginary games that even an MA cannot follow. How Elam would race his sister to the silverware drawer in order to serve everyone first. How XS would develop a tender heart towards two babies in our lives. How we have learned a number of Chinese characters and can recognize them on food packaging.  How much more I’d love this already great dad.

Sometimes obeying God is a challenge and it takes discipline. But the longer that I do boey and say yes to those inside urgings from the Spirit the more 1 John 5:3b becomes true for us:

And His commands are not burdensome.

“Injured” – not my favorite word in the English language. Particularly when it applies to me.
“Rest” – not my pick for the Top 10 ways to obey God.

But here I am, injured and exhorted to rest.

You only get one knee and there are many marathons. Rest days are as important as long running days. Get your rest! You can afford to take some time off at this point in your training.

Yes, yes I know wiser-than-me runners.

It was actually good timing because Brian is out of town for 7 days and Calista had a raging fever all weekend anyhow. I couldn’t go anywhere!

Last week I was finishing my 8 miles on the Lakewalk by Lake Superior, sun in my face (that was back when the thermometer was reading 60’s and 70’s) and something just didn’t feel good in my right knee. All day long, I was sore and stiff. By the next day I couldn’t straighten it out without pain. Stairs made me cringe.

I jumped in the pool and took a few days off. Then I saw Malcolm.

Now, a word here about Malcolm. One doesn’t hang out at the Y with fierce sweaty folks without hearing about injuries. Torn ACL’s on the mountains while skiing on spring break. Knee surgeries. Regular wear and tear. Falling off a Bosu (oh wait, that was me 18 months ago…) And soon after hearing others talk about injuries, one starts to hear the name “Malcolm.” Miracle Malcolm.

When I shared last week about my knee, I swear 3 people told me to see Malcolm. It was like he was the fourth member of the healing Trinity.

So I finally called him Thursday and less than 24 hours later, I was stretching, laughing and running with Malcolm. To be honest, I had sweated the whole way there because I was scared he was about to tell me I had broken my knee and I was doomed to a life of swimming and walking. I was sweating because this guy was “famous” and frankly, I was sweating because I hate physical therapy. It has a tendency to be more physical than therapeutic.

So I ran with LightSpeed, a genius invention of Miracle Malcolm, watch here:

Miracle Malcolm’s Invention

And his website:

LightSpeed

And partnered with some crazy amounts of stretching, I felt like $1,000,000.  Woot.

Today I ran on it again.

I am lighter than a feather…

But before running like an Olympian, what they don’t show in the video or in this picture is how you first get to throw on a pair of shorts that are more like hockey pants – breezers. They are thick like a wet suit. After those 5 lb shorts you get to velcro straps around your already enormous thighs plus velcro more straps up the side of your shorts, adding at least 15lbs. Some “light” speed. First they add 25 lbs of equipment then they strap you in with bungee cords to this metal contraption that makes you hope you didn’t over-hydrate.

As my friends Carrie and Angel were literally strapping me into this cage/bungee cord/velcro craziness, Angel called it the “40 shades of the Y.” Reservations about that movie aside, I laughed so hard. It was fitting.

I don’t even know how long that all took but the entire process I kept thinking oh my goodness. Why couldn’t I just ride out this injury and rest and leave this velcro LightSpeed to the real runners.

Then I kicked on the treadmill and did everything (well, almost everything) Malcolm told me to do and ran. Really ran, for the first time in 7 days without pain. Then I ran some more. Then I ran a bit faster. After 6 miles I decided to call it quits, even though my heart wanted to run all stinking morning.

Speaking of stinking: You don’t even want to imagine how those shorts smelled when I took them off. They wash those things, right Carrie?

Well, I stretched and talked with yet another Y friend who asked how my knee was doing (thanks friends!!!) and headed down the stairs.

The first step I took I gasped. An acquaintance was next to me and she asked “what happened?!” I said, “My knee hasn’t felt this good for weeks! It doesn’t hurt at all going down the stairs! That Light Speed is like Jesus on bungee cords!”

So thank you Malcolm, my friends at the Y and even those stinky shorts.

Thank you Jesus for making rest one of the 10 Commandments, even though I hate it, rest is good for me. But also thank You for making our bodies able to recover, heal and do things we never dreamed we could.

“Let us run the race marked out for us with perseverance, looking unto Jesus, the author and perfecter of our Faith.” Hebrews 12

You’ve been warned people.  So here goes.

thankfully the Wild have cooperated and made my fav running hat cool again

I am in week 11 of an 18 week training program for my first/second marathon.  10 years ago I tried to run the MedCity Marathon (Rochester, MN) but 3 miles got cut off for both Brian and me.  It was a black flag day and apparently the local medical profession (whom I’ve heard are pretty smart) got nervous when folks began dropping like flies.  I had felt great but what do I know…

So this Christmas I was feeling fierce and watching 39 approach (funny, I “accidentally” typed 29 just there… hahahaha) in a few short 6 months I said to Brian, what if I did the whole thing this year?

Approximately 4 weeks later I was nursing a sore IT band, unable to run more than .3 on the treadmill.  Awesome.  I bought me a foam roller, worked my hip muscles like an Olympian Hip … Olympian and poof!  Magical healing arrived!

Then came the long runs… all the way through 13.1 I felt pretty ok!  I did a week of training on the beach and suddenly the knee pain started back.  I guess I hadn’t cross trained enough and assumed the beach would make up for that:(

Since then it’s been one ache after another rash and I keep saying to Brian, “You know you’re training for a marathon when…” So here is my list.

1.  Numbers Games

I saw a gas station sign last Saturday on my 15 miles.  Upon seeing 3.23 I thought, oh, like almost 4 miles.

2.  Bloody Socks

I had a Curt Schilling moment last week.  (He was a Red Sox pitcher in the 2004 series…)  Bloody sock and everything.  Now it’s band aids even for a walk to the grocery store.

3.  Essential Hobbit Second Breakfasts

I ate second breakfasts most days this week.  Like at 10:00.  Eggs, PB and honey toast being my favorite choice.  Basically I eat PB like 100 times a day – energy bites, with Ritz, on toast or any bread I can find.  The thing about training is even while I’m eating I think about what to eat next, when I will eat and how much can I eat it.

4.  You get the runs in multiple ways

For a while now I have had to watch exactly what I eat the day before my longer runs.  If I am not careful I enjoy more than one kind of run…  OK not enjoy.  But I guess some of you out there enjoy that emptying out feeling after explosive diarrhea.  I don’t.  Particularly when it isn’t just once, or twice and you’re popping Immodium along with the ibuprofen and whatever else you might be popping.

5.  Jelly beans have new meaning.

One way to curb those kinds of run is to eat while running.  This is something I never did in the previous training and try not to do too much of while I’m working out.  I like a good 1-3 hours to pass after I have eaten breakfast to work really hard.  But these early morning training runs on Saturday don’t allow for that.  So, granola and yogurt, banana or PB toast goes in and out the door I go.  I pack some Jelly Belly beans made with a kind of Gaterade impact.  They are tasty unless it’s 30 degrees out and they get crunchy:(

6.  Chafing: it’s going to happen.  Glide, Vaseline, A&D ointment, I’ve done it all.  Sometimes I’m fine, other times not so lucky.  I never run in shorts because I have major flesh between my thighs, despite all this running!  But other times, it is BAD.  Last week I made the mistake of shaving on Thursday.  LIke a thorough job.  Very thorough…  Let’s just say I serioulsy considered going commando to the church Missions Conference which was being held at my home church, which supports my husband and me (we are missionaries technically).  I mean really, we could lose our support for going commando.  I think it’s a commandment: thou shalt not go commando while under a church roof.

This week I didn’t shave at all.  Clearly the right choice right?

7.  I see constellations on my rear.  *warning: some of you maybe should skip this part*

Seriously I am a sweater.  My forehead can flow like a fountain on any given day in Anna McGhee classes and I try to keep up and keep dry.  I even bought deoderant for “mean sweats” last week.  But I have never met a bottom deoderant.  Or a cleanser that quite does the job.

So after much discussion with a doctor and 3 friends who run, Walgreens set me up today.  I am lubed and powdered and defungitized with the best of them as of this evening.  Let’s hope it works!

However, I am learning how to powder down there.  I shook a bit into the underware upon finishing business in the loo and went about my day.  A few hours later, back in the loo I pulled the pants down in a puff of powder.  It spilled onto my legs, shoes, floor and toilet.  Awesome.  It’s like I’m doing a magic show every time I use the facitilites.  Or I could tell everyone I am in gymnastics.

Really, this training thing isn’t for sissies.  The amount I think about my clothes (is my underware right for 9 miles? will this bra chafe?) my food (let’s see 2 or 3 eggs?  How much ice cream can I eat and not get sick? Can I eat a donut right after a run and have it disappear with my metabolism or does it have to be within 60 minutes of my run…?) my sleep (no water before bed: I will not wake up to change your sheets tonight! – by the way this is about XS not me or Brian…) and finding routes around this hilly city less than 20 miles away that are flat make for a challenge.

But that is exactly why I’m doing it.  Because it is hard.  And I am fierce, even if the soles of my feet fall off completely and my face never looks less than sunburn.  Even if I gain more than 7 lbs (let’s call it muscle) and get addicted to Jelly Beans and PB and eating, for realz.

We never know what we can do until we try.  And I’m not getting any younger.

So tomorrow it’s 16 with a dear friend (thanks friend for running with me and introducing me to the beans) on the shores of Lake Superior in hopefully warmer than 30 degrees.  And I need to get some more PB toast so gotta go!

“Mom, I hope we learn more about mealworms today… doesn’t that sound exciting?!”

“You.  Fat cow.”

“Mom, your hair looks like a fluffy squirrel.”

Out of the mouths of babes…  These are actual quotes of the Asker kids this week.  The first, on the way to 1st grade, my girlie, artistic, musical girl was looking forward to mealworms.  I couldn’t say it sounded exciting, but I did say I have never studied them myself so it’s hard to know.

Fat cow: I was stretching after a long run.  XS decided it was time for him to chime in with some feedback.  Suddently I realized he had learned it at the Y with us, but had gotten one little consonant wrong: it’s CAT cow, babe.  Yoga.

Fluffy squirrel.  Yeah, I probably did.

The other week, the Y class instructor casually said to me, “Nice job in class today.”  I felt like the ugly 5th grader who just got an A on a report about Pennsylvania and woke up with a huge pimple on her nose.  It’s amazing how little words of affirming (or things like FAT COW) really set me in a different direction.  Calista was so excited about these mealworms.  MEALWORMS PEOPLE.  Amazing teachers at Homecroft!  What words are they using I wonder…

Fat cow, cat cow.  Subtle but a huge difference, eh?

Nice job in class today.  Anna, seriously, I felt like I could have led the way in the Boston Marathon after those kinds words.  Thank you!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Parenting as a stay at home mom, extrovert as I am, I get little feedback.  The boys do give great hugs and kisses, but they also throw out the occasional fat cow or fluffy squirrel.  When I do get feedback from my Bible study members, husband as we write together or even kids after Sunday School, it can sink my ship or set me asail.

There are so many things they don’t tell you about parenting, by the way.  I wish someone had told me I would have to become a dentist and an anxiety therapist.  I have had to choose my words very carefully, as my daughter has loose teeth.  The difference between tug, pull and yank becomes crystal clear as one’s daughter is having a panic attack in the bathroom at 7:00pm, brothers watching as the blood trickles.

This week I “carefully felt how loose the tooth was.”  Tried not to “tug” and managed to get yelled at for yanking even though she was the one who whipped her head away.  I swear I did not yank her tooth.

After she “wiggled” it herself after a while, out it came.  She says, immediately, “I told you you didn’t have to yank it.”

Words.  They have such power.

Let’s use them well, shall we?

Yup, this week I had another baby.  Not out of my body.  Not through adoption.  Through a vacation!

My girlfriend and her hubs took a much deserved trip to Vegas to celebrate a family wedding.  They have 5 kids and we took 2 of them for 4 days.

Wow.  Little did I know how stretched I would be this week!

But she’s always been helpful!

Thank God for Calista who managed to get a bottle into the little guy (11-months old) today so I could get the dishes done.

And for Elam who is always a ham, but particularly when babies are around.

XS did great too, but just don’t have pictures.

As I am strolling through days filled with swim lessons, dentist appointments and the typical challenges with a baby, I am struck that although Jesus is enough for my spirit, my body and soul seem to need some basics to deal with the challenges of parenthood.  Seriously, I did campus ministry with some great and some rotten students for over 10 years and nothing, I repeat NOTHING is more challenging than having little people to lead and discipline and love 24-7-365-365×18 (you do the math please.  I haven’t slept much this week.)

1.  I need exercise.  I saw almost every hour on the clock Sunday night.  I heard every scratchy move in that pack and play.  I stressed if I made the slightest noise, afraid I’d wake the baby.  But Monday morning, I was at the Y, running a few miles next to a good friend (who lives exhausted) and then killed an Anna McGhee class with more sweat than I should have been allowed to spill on the floor.

Today it was a balmy 30 degrees, the roads were covered in ICE and the wind was whipping across Woodland.  I pounded 6 miles and smiled when a man strolling on the sidewalks told me around mile 5.3 that I should “be careful.  It’s icy today.”  I wanted to say “no kidding Sherlock?!”

2.  I need music.  After dinner tonight Brian took Elam to get new swim goggles and I did bath for 3 kids.  The baby wasn’t having me so I cranked some 80’s music and head banged to the 1987 Heart song, “Alone.”  I changed the lyrics to “How can I get you to sleep?!”  It was epic.

There is something about singing (sometimes it can be worship music that speaks of Jesus, sometimes I can worship with a Simon and Garfunkel song…).

3.  I need food.  Lots of it.  If any of my working out friends read this, don’t tell anyone.  I ate 2 breakfasts today before 9:30.  I ate lunch.  Then I came home and snacked.  Then I ate like an 18-year old boy.  Unless I edited that last sentence, I would have just said I eat like an 180-year old.  What would an 180-year old eat?  … hmmm…

I need to eat fun food (Jimmy Fallon ice cream for breakfast dessert anyone?).  I make these PB and carob chip energy bites that are seriously my staple.  I eat edamame, brown rice and quinoa too.  I snacked on pea pods while warming up dinner tonight.  But I eat my fair share of bread, pasta, butter and chocolate.

4.  I need friends.  A good friend, but one I rarely see, has 4 kids and we met at the aquarium today.  Do the math: 9 kids, 2 moms, 2 strollers.  We seriously took OVER a bathroom.  Then we made our way to the otter program and then I heard “Momma” in Elam’s voice.  He was up the stairs.  I smiled at him and then he informed me that I had forgotten him in the bathroom.  Upstairs.  Alone.  He was pooping and I guess he thought we’d wait for him outside…

He gave me grace and patted my back tonight when I laughed so hard that I cried about this tonight.  How did I lose my kid today?  How did I head bang to Heart tonight?  How did I eat so much today?  How did I skate through my 6 miles today?  How does my friend do this every day with 5 kids?!

I need my friends to call me for an aquarium date even if I lose a kid.  Thanks Katie!

So much more I could write about but suffice to say It is time to hand this thing over to a kid who has gotten more sleep tonight.  Which is why when I asked her to get XS his bottle tonight she went to get his bath ready instead.

Life as an Asker…