tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85147026463021293512024-03-13T11:21:07.280-04:00confessions of an (almost) ginger(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.comBlogger552125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-380448523601731282019-10-31T14:11:00.001-04:002019-10-31T14:11:35.630-04:00In MourningLast week, I said goodbye to a longtime companion. <br />
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I had no idea how hard this would hit me. I had actually gotten to the point where I was excited to get rid of it. It's big. It takes up a lot of space. And my garage is plenty full with the bikes, scooters, helmets, skates, pads, and various toys of three children. When pool season finally ended, I was anxious to clean out the space, and getting rid of the stroller that I hadn't used in probably a year seemed like an important first step.<br />
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I listed in on local Buy/Sell/Trade Facebook groups for what I thought was a steal and waited for a taker. It took a couple of weeks, which surprised me, since this stroller is THE BEST, and I knew there had to be plenty of moms out there that dreamed of owning one without having to endure the $400+ price tag. But I finally found a buyer- a new mom who wanted to get into running after having a baby four months ago. Perfection.<br />
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We arranged a time for her to come and pick it up, and I happily showed her how to use it and wished her well as she loaded it up in her car and drove away<br />
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...and then I went back into the house and completely lost it. I'm talking the ugly cry. Loud sobs, tears pouring, breathless, splotchy face, swollen eyes kind of crying. And for some reason, I never saw that coming.<br />
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This was our last stroller. The last remnant of the baby years. Having it folded up in the garage collecting cobwebs allowed me to hold onto the idea that yes, my children are growing, but Charlotte is still my baby. Two of my kids may be big, but one is still little, right? But the reality is she hadn't ridden in that stroller for many months, and she'd rather be running free with the other big kids. She's no longer a baby.<br />
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Letting go of this stroller was also letting go of a time when I had the ability to run with it. My knee has not been able to withstand the extra weight of pushing the stroller while I ran in quite some time. Saying goodbye to the stroller was saying goodbye to a time when I could run double digit miles on a Saturday morning, when I could train for races, when I was gaining both speed and endurance instead of barely making it through a flat 3-miles, when I had the ability to run a 100 mile month.<br />
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Charlotte used to love riding in the stroller, carrying her little sippy cup and snack, covered with her blanket on cooler days, meeting up with our running friends. She loved to feel the wind in her hair when we went fast. I guess I should have expected this reaction. Babies and running were the two biggest things in my life for quite awhile. The stroller was the marriage of my two favorite things, so seeing it drive away in someone else's car wasn't easy.<br />
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A week later, and I still feel a little sadness about it, but the ugly cries have stopped. As silly as it sounds, I think I legitimately needed to mourn this loss. I will always have the fondest memories of that stroller, and the times that I spent running free with my tiniest running companion strapped snugly inside it.<br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-35276650954333362952019-10-16T15:27:00.000-04:002019-10-16T18:12:57.084-04:00The Disney TripAlright, guys. I'll admit it. I was kind of dreading our Disney trip. I'm sure most of you think that's crazy. What's not to love about the most magical place on Earth?<br />
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Well, for starters, our little family of five was joined by eight others. Yes, there were thirteen of us. My parents, J's parents, two sisters, a brother, a best friend, and a partridge in a pear tree.<br />
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The good news is that ours were the only kids, and we were all in
agreement that they were the stars of the show. We knew we wouldn't be
able to stick together all the time, and that everyone should feel free
to divide and conquer as they desired. We'd meet up when we could, we'd
separate as needed, and we'd all have a better time because of it.<br />
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Another worry was that my little family of five would all be sleeping in the same hotel room. I don't have a great track record of actually sleeping when my kids are in the room. Even as newborns, every tiny little noise they made woke me up. Margot never even saw the inside of our bedroom- that tiny nugget went straight to her own crib in her own room, and we were all happier for it. <br />
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But I came prepared to conquer sleep. I brought a small table fan, a white noise machine, an eye mask, and a handful of foam ear plugs. <br />
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Guys- it totally worked! We were a big, happy group, everybody slept, and we had the BEST time. <br />
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Every day was a new park (including a mid-week sneak off to Universal Studios to see The Wizarding World of Harry Potter). We were up early to make breakfast reservations and catch Fast Passes, and we were up late for ice cream and after-dinner swims. We rode all of the rides, saw all of the characters, ate ALL of the food, and had all of the fun.<br />
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Our kids are so lucky to have grandparents, aunts, uncles, and special friends that want to experience the magic with them. I am feeling so thankful that not only were we able to give our kids this amazing trip, but that our big, giant, happily combined family was a part of it.<br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-68578700144679513732019-08-29T13:45:00.000-04:002019-08-29T13:45:47.771-04:00The Chaos RecedesFYI, I'm done apologizing for my extended absences. Mommin' is hard, yo, and finding the time to devote to this little corner of the interwebs is tough. But here I am! <br />
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Summer is over. Let me say it a little louder for the people in the back. SUMMER IS OVER!<br />
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Don't get me wrong- we had a really great summer. I had a lot (and I mean A LOT) of quality time with the kiddos. We started the season with a beach vacation, which was lovely as always. And then we returned to FULL STEAM AHEAD. We stayed crazy busy.<br />
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Gabe joined a summer swim team. No one was more surprised than J and I were at his love for the sport. G is not so much athletic, and he joined under protest. I am not one to push my kids into athletics just for the sake of fulfilling some societal norm. This was more a matter of needing something to fill up some time, meanwhile creating a stronger, safer swimmer. Turns out, he took to swim team like a fish to water. (Ha!) Was he the fastest? Not by a long shot. But did he ask to compete in every stroke and relay? Yep. Did he become a stronger swimmer? Unquestionably. And now he wants to join a year round swim team. If you need me, I'll be at the pool.<br />
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By the way, the pool is at my gym. Seriously, put a bed in a corner there for me, as it is truly my second home. I am in the process of adding further fitness certifications to my resume (yay BodyPump!) and even have my very own class on the schedule beginning next week. I am really finding my groove here, and love that I have a little job outside of the house.<br />
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Margot and Charlotte, meanwhile, spent the summer living their best lives. Swimming, movies, outings, sister sleepovers all the time. The bond these two girls share is just amazing. They continue to be best friends, no matter who they claim as a BFF. Fingers crossed that the love doesn't run out before the teenage years, when the hormone flow in this house will be OUTTA CONTROL. <br />
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J and I ended the summer with a kid-free getaway to Jamaica. We spent a glorious week doing not much more than eating, drinking, lounging by the beach or pool, and drinking some more. It was the perfect way to top off a great summer, and the perfect way to avoid killing my children as my patience was officially running low. <br />
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And on that note- we all made it through the season ALIVE. School is back in session, routine is re-established, and we're all happier for it. Charlotte is thrilled to be in the "big kid class" (Pre-K), and Gabe and Margot are back on the bus to elementary school each morning. They've both had a good first few days and were truly looking forward to school starting again. We were all ready.<br />
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So here I am now, with a little bit more time on my hands (I finally finished watching the current seasons of The Handmaid's Tale and Big Little Lies this week), a long list of projects I want to accomplish around the house now that the kids are not constantly wrecking it, and at least a small part of each day enjoyed in <i>silence</i>.<br />
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Bliss. <br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-23880630647963234972019-05-14T12:48:00.001-04:002019-05-14T15:49:26.481-04:00Sweetness Amidst ChaosIt's May. Spring is blooming, the hills are alive and all that jazz.<br />
<br />
And this mama is exhausted.<br />
<br />
This time of year is for the (baby) birds. Every Sunday I sit down and look at the week ahead. I can't really think about life in terms longer than one week. And lately, every Sunday I've had to write about a bajillion things on my to-do list. <br />
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Kindergarten performances, Field Day, Mother's Day Tea, awards ceremonies, swim team meetings.<br />
<br />
My head is spinning just thinking about all of the upcoming activities. (Seriously, how do working parents manage this??) To say that I have been busy is a bit of an understatement. But we can check one year-end rite of passage off of the list- the dance recital.<br />
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<span id="goog_246369423"></span>I've <a href="https://andersonconfessions.blogspot.com/2018/01/tiniest-dancer.html" target="_blank">written before</a> about how much Charlotte loves to dance. When she was still just a baby, she would lay on the floor outside the dance studio to try and get a peek at the dancers beneath the crack at the bottom of the door. She was thrilled when it was finally her turn to enter the studio. Since she was such a super fan, they let her begin when she was still two, even though she didn't quite meet the age requirement. She hasn't looked back since.<br />
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But this year was her first recital year. Patience is a virtue, and not one that preschoolers possess. She was measured for her costume in October. It arrived in January, and she had to look at it hang in my closet for months before she was finally allowed to wear it. She practiced her routine in class for weeks and weeks leading up to the big day. And this past weekend it finally arrived.<br />
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Dress rehearsal was on Friday. As much as she loves class each week, I honestly wasn't sure what to expect of her once she was on the big stage in front of a crowd. But true to form, Charlotte took her dance very seriously. She was the first person of the day to walk on to that stage. She found her spot, stood in position, and smiled a big smile. When I waved to her, she wouldn't even wave back- she's a professional!<br />
<br />
Since hers was the first group of the day onto the stage, it took a few minutes before they could begin their dance. There was lighting and sound to adjust, and tape on the stage to be corrected. She stood there with her sweet smile the whole time, and charmed every single person in that auditorium. People kept asking me if mine was the one in front, and telling me how adorable she was.<br />
<br />
I didn't hate it.<br />
<br />
She did as well as a first timer could possibly do in her performance, and couldn't wait until the next day for the real deal.<br />
<br />
She woke up the next morning ready to get into her costume immediately. Imagine her disappointment when I told her that her recital wasn't until 2:00, and that she should probably just put on some play clothes before then.<br />
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She managed to make it all the way to show time without losing her sweet mind. The performance was just as adorable as it could be. She came back out at the end for the finale with the biggest smiles- the joy on my tiny dancer's face was truly contagious. <br />
<br />
It was true love.<br />
<br />
Since the recital, I can count on two things every day. She's going to ask for a bun with her costume hairpiece, and she's going to ask how long until her next recital. She's a dancer, through and through.<br />
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EbJSIp0HBVs" width="560"></iframe>(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-83929376462588718302019-04-12T17:41:00.001-04:002019-04-12T17:41:51.261-04:00Just One of Those ThingsApparently March 26th is Epilepsy Awareness Day. (That's the day I started to write this post, but, you know, life.)<br />
<br />
This isn't something I knew or ever really thought about, if I'm being truthful. It's also the day that Gabe had an EEG, which came back abnormal.<br />
<br />
Some of you have been in the loop a little bit, and many of you have heard bits and pieces, but here's the whole story for those of you who'd like to be updated.<br />
<br />
About a month ago, we were in the middle of our normal morning routine. I was busy feeding kids breakfast, packing lunch boxes, gathering backpacks, braiding hair- just like every busy morning in our house. Gabe was standing next to me, telling me about how he hadn't slept well the night before. I turned around to grab a folder from the counter, and as soon as I did I heard the unmistakable sound of a head smacking the hardwood floor.<br />
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I spun around to see how on earth someone had managed to fall so hard when seemingly nothing had happened, and Gabe was on the ground, having what I was sure was a seizure.<br />
<br />
It wasn't the typical seizure that we're used to seeing on TV (or maybe some of you have been unfortunate enough to witness in real life). There were no full body convulsions. He didn't lose control of his bladder. It wasn't violent. But it was terrifying. His eyes were rolled back. His breathing was irregular. And he was not conscious. <br />
<br />
I immediately called 911 and started yelling for another adult in the house. I'm not sure I was thinking very clearly. I was definitely in a panic. But I managed to get through the 911 call and wait for the paramedics to arrive. Gabe had come to (the episode lasted for about a minute, I think, or maybe a little longer). He was upset, unsure of what had just happened, and he had a whopper of a headache, but other than that, he seemed fine. <br />
<br />
The paramedics arrived and checked him out. Since we couldn't check all of the boxes that a typical seizure presents, they doubted that was what it was. They thought it may have been blood sugar related, or that he may have just fainted. In any case, they gave us the all clear to drive him to the ER on our own.<br />
<br />
At the recommendation of the paramedics, we went to a smaller regional ER, rather than make the drive to the big hospital. We were seen right away, and the testing commenced. They checked everything we expected them to check. There was an IV. There was blood work. There was a urinalysis. There were x-rays and a CT scan. And the doctor performed a basic neurological exam.<br />
<br />
Everything looked good, including blood sugar. The doctor there agreed that it probably wasn't a seizure, but what he called syncope, which is a fancy work for passing out. There was one funny spot on the CT, which everyone agreed was most likely an "artifact" (kinda like a shadow created by the overlapping images of a CT), but to be absolutely sure, they transferred us to the big hospital for an MRI, which thankfully was also normal.<br />
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Gabe was a ROCK STAR through the entire day, which was very long and exhausting. He only cried twice- once for just a minute when they put the IV in, and another time when they told him it would be a few hours before they came to get him for his MRI. The poor kid just wanted to go home.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, we had no answers, but thankfully all of the biggest, scariest things had been ruled out. There were no brain tumors. No irregularities in his blood work that could signal a bigger issue. We were sent on our way with instructions to follow up with a neurologist and our pediatrician. <br />
<br />
We had to wait two weeks to get into the pediatric neurologist, which was frustrating, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right? Meeting with her went pretty much as I expected- we explained the scenario and she ordered an EEG.<br />
<br />
Which brings us to March 26th.<br />
<br />
They wanted Gabe to sleep during the EEG, so we were instructed to keep him up late and wake him up early. He got a kick out of this. He had a caffeinated soda after school, stayed up late with Aunt Laura to watch Ant Man and the Wasp, and J woke him up at 5:30 and took him to Waffle House for a big ole' carby breakfast. Who wouldn't want a nap after all of that, amiright?<br />
<br />
Well, I guess Gabe, that's who.<br />
<br />
He didn't sleep. The situation was just too weird. He had 22 stickers on his head, he was in some sort of faux hotel room, his mom was sitting in a chair watching him, and lights were flashing in his face. Thankfully, despite his lack of sleep, they were able to get a good reading and they sent us on our way with promises of someone calling in the next week or so with results.<br />
<br />
When we got a phone call only a few short hours later, my mind immediately went to scary places. Thankfully, the doctor fit us in the very next morning to explain what they had found.<br />
<br />
Gabe's brain is pretty consistently "misfiring" in one area. Thankfully, it is only in one section, and thankfully the spikes are very brief (as in about a fifth of a second). These spikes aren't a big deal in isolation, but if they happen too often or too close together, a seizure is the result.<br />
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Specifically, a complex partial seizure, sometimes known as a focal onset impaired awareness seizure. This means Gabe had a partial brain seizure, and this is why it didn't look like a normal full body seizure.<br />
<br />
We learned that given his brain activity, Gabe is a kid who will be prone to seizures. Things like a lack of sleep or the onset of a virus could trigger one. At this point, there is about a 50/50 chance that he'll have another, most likely in the next six months. If he has a second, the odds of a third and beyond get much higher. We will discuss preventative medication at that point. There is also a chance that he'll never have another seizure as long as he lives (we're hoping for that option). If he does have another, it will be fine. There are no long term affects on the brain. <br />
<br />
No one can really explain why these spikes are occurring, but the hope is that it's just due to brain development, and that he may one day simply outgrow them. <br />
<br />
So now we wait. We are trying to find a balance between letting him be a kid and live his life, and not letting him wear himself out to the point of exhaustion. I am trying not to panic when he coughs or gets a weird look on his face. I am trying not to constantly feel his forehead for a sign of a fever. We are definitely more concerned about this than he is- he just says he hopes that if there's a next time, he's standing on the carpet with no toys around.<br />
<br />
Seriously, this kid is awesome.<br />
<br />
In the moment, this was beyond terrifying. But in the end, it's just one of those things.<br />
<br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-20295395598536751612019-04-02T10:05:00.000-04:002019-04-02T15:41:18.168-04:00Happy Birthday Jason!I've posted before about how awesome my wonderful husband is. Anniversaries, Valentine's Days, birthdays. I could gush on and on about how amazing he is on this, (two days past) his birthday. But instead, I'll share a story about how we celebrated.<br />
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J is low-key. Chill. He didn't want a big to-do. We just hoped for beautiful weather- which we got. We wanted to relax and drink beer on a patio- which we did. The rest of the story, I'm not sure I could make up if I tried.<br />
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We arrived at one of our local breweries in the late afternoon, and hit the jackpot right away with a large table to surround with a few friends. Our server came over to take our beer order. Any Parks & Rec fans out there? This guy was pretty much Orin. After he left to get our drinks, J said "He's high right now!" Totally deadpan. We weren't sure if he had any idea what was going on around him. But surprisingly, we did get our drinks and appetizers without any trouble.<br />
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A few friends arrived, and we spent a couple of hours hanging out, drinking beer, chatting, and relaxing in the sunshine. It was lovely.<br />
<br />
Then we got hungry for dinner. And that's when things started to go downhill.<br />
<br />
Orin (I don't know his real name, so I'm going with Orin) came and took our order. A few minutes later he came back and told us that the kitchen was really backed up, and that he was going to have to wait ten minutes before he put our order in. Okay, no big deal.<br />
<br />
An HOUR later, he came back over, and we found out that our order had not yet been put into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
Apparently, some major shit was going down in there.<br />
<br />
A manager came over and apologized, telling us that she was helping out in the kitchen, and that food was starting to come out, but that it would be at least another 40 minutes before they made it to our ticket. (And apparently my sister overheard this manager yelling at Orin, telling him that he was supposed to tell us it would be an hour before he could put our order in, not ten minutes. Yikes.) Everything we wanted to drink in the meantime was on her.<br />
<br />
We were relaxed about it- luckily J had already had a few and no longer had any cares in the world, otherwise I can't imagine he would have been so pleasant about it. Also, in lieu of sending him a beer, my sister had sent him a pint of bacon earlier in the day, so he wasn't hangry like I was.<br />
<br />
I decided I was fine with the delay. And this is only because I walked a few shops down and bought one slice of pizza to hold me over. Because isn't it totally normal to have to leave one restaurant to buy food at another, just so that your stomach doesn't start digesting itself before the first restaurant brings you your dinner??<br />
<br />
When I returned, the table was still in jolly spirits, waiting on our food. We may have been the only jolly table, though. The tables around us were dropping like flies. Families with kids, groups of twenty-somethings, and everyone in between started deciding that waiting two hours for a mediocre meal just wasn't worth it. They were abandoning ship without having eaten.<br />
<br />
Not long after this, food FINALLY started coming out of the kitchen.<br />
<br />
I know this because Orin came over to our table with a chicken sandwich and fries.<br />
<br />
"I know this isn't the chicken wrap that you ordered, but it's chicken. I figured you'd just want some food. I won't charge you for it." And he set the plate down in front of me.<br />
<br />
Weird! But hey, we're all hungry here. We'll take it.<br />
<br />
Shortly thereafter, another server came over with a tray of food...that we hadn't ordered. He told us that our server had told him to just bring us any food that came out of the kitchen. The people who had actually ordered this food had long since left, so I guess their meals were fair game? And the food just kept coming. Multiple servers, managers, kitchen staff- they just kept coming and coming, setting down more and more food.<br />
<br />
We had a couple of chicken sandwiches, some wings, mac & cheese, a giant pretzel, some kind of wrap. It just became a smorgasbord of other peoples' meals. NONE of it the actual meals that we'd chosen, and none of it at any cost to us.<br />
<br />
Guys, we couldn't stop laughing. It was the most bizarre dining experience any of us had ever experienced. And for the life of us, none of us could figure out what could have possibly gone down in that kitchen to cause that kind of shit show. <br />
<br />
Eventually we were full and ready to leave, but we weren't 100% sure what we should do. Not that we were hungry anymore, but we didn't want to leave if they were about to bring our order out. Although I suppose if we did, they could just give our food to some other poor schmucks that had been waiting for days to eat?<br />
<br />
When Orin came back, I asked him. "Just to clarify- are we going to get the food that we actually ordered?"<br />
<br />
"OH! ...No."<br />
<br />
Guys, I'm dead. It was so, so funny.<br />
<br />
We all left saying that this was certainly a memorable birthday celebration, and one that J wouldn't soon forget.<br />
<br />
It was a crazy, kinda perfect day.<br />
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Happy (belated) birthday to you, my love! My wish for you this year is that you never have to wait more than two hours for dinner. And that if you do, it's someone else's dinner that's delivered to you. I love you!<br />
<br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-31352435095355883972019-03-12T09:55:00.000-04:002019-03-12T09:55:07.172-04:00I'm TiredYou know where this time change can go?<br />
<br />
You do, but I'll tell you anyway. Straight to hell, that's where it can go.<br />
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Sleep is kinda my thing. My bed is my favorite place. And mornings are my least favorite. Anything that messes with my sleep is my mortal enemy. Unfortunately, this can sometimes include my children now that they are no longer infants who actually need me.<br />
<br />
One night Margot woke up crying in the middle of the night. I ran to her aid to see what she needed. She was crying because she couldn't find her toy cupcakes. That were sitting right on her bed. I didn't handle it well. That was the last night she had a monitor in her room, and the night that J decided it was best for the welfare of the kids that he take over nighttime needs.<br />
<br />
I feel a little bad, but only a little. Don't mess with my sleep for stupid reasons.<br />
<br />
And that brings me back to this stupid time change. It's messing with my sleep for a stupid reason. (What IS the reason, anyway??)<br />
<br />
To make matters worse, J is on a business trip this week. He left well before the sun came up on Monday morning, leaving me to deal with the first morning aftermath of Daylight Savings Time.<br />
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I forget how bone tired I feel on that first morning. And not just me, but the kids. We miss that hour that was stolen. We NEED that hour that was stolen.<br />
<br />
I realize I have it pretty good. I usually wake up around 7:30, but I need a little bit of time to fully wake up before I am ready to get out of bed. Who am I kidding- I need a little bit of time before I can speak, or even look at another human being. J has learned not to even attempt eye contact until I've had at least 10 minutes to come to grips with the fact that I'm awake.<br />
<br />
I'm just not nice in the mornings.<br />
<br />
Because I'm such a scary bitch in the mornings, he usually lets me take my time getting out of bed, and he runs upstairs to make sure everyone is awake and getting dressed. The girls are almost always good about getting up on time with their alarms, but sometimes they get sidetracked and he'll find them playing upstairs. Gabe, on the other hand, sleeps through his alarm about half of the time. If we don't hear three children downstairs by 7:45, we know that parental intervention is required, and J has assumed this duty.<br />
<br />
With him gone this week, I've had to take over. I was already less than excited about that before I realized that his trip coincided with the time change. And now that it's happening, I'm even less excited. Not only am I not awake on time (I had to set an alarm this morning, which may be my very least favorite thing ever), but I end up finding three sleeping children when I make it upstairs. Today, I went to wake Gabe up, went downstairs to carry on with the morning routine, and then when he hadn't come downstairs 15 minutes later, I found that he'd gone BACK TO SLEEP after I left.<br />
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ARGH!<br />
<br />
Can someone please direct me to the person who is responsible for carrying on this ridiculous, antiquated change of the clocks? WHO LIKES THIS? Because I'm pretty sure the answer is NO ONE. NO ONE likes this.<br />
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My new political view is this: the politician who does away with the stupid changing of the clocks twice a year gets my vote. Pick a time. Stay there forever. Easy peasy.<br />
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Rant over. Sorry for my anger. I'm tired. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-41019347565300378052019-02-22T10:31:00.000-05:002019-02-22T10:31:21.027-05:00I Didn't DieNow that I've had some time to process, I wanted to fill you all in on my fun-filled weekend of Les Mills RPM Instructor Training.<br />
<br />
I feel like the title is appropriate.<br />
<br />
Guys, this was one intense weekend.<br />
<br />
I showed up bright and early on Saturday morning, not knowing what to expect. I found the cycling room and people started filing in. I was so incredibly nervous! I was worried that I would look like I had no idea what I was doing, or that I'd have the wrong body type, or that I wouldn't know how to set up a bike that's different from mine. I was worried that I wouldn't be Les Mills material.<br />
<br />
Men don't do this shit to themselves, do they?<br />
<br />
As if I wasn't already feeling insecure, I quickly realized that many of the participants already knew one another. We were a small group- 7 women and 2 men- and I think only three of us walked in knowing no one. And to top it all off, I was the only one with no group fitness instructing experience. Everyone else had years of experience teaching a ton of different types of classes, many of them Les Mills.<br />
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Oy.<br />
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The first item on the agenda for the day was a Master Class, taught by our instructor for the weekend. We all hopped on our bikes and got ready to work.<br />
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I mean this in the nicest way possible, but thank God I had received a video of the class two weeks prior, and had spent hours learning the music and choreography...because the English language was not our instructor's strong point.<br />
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I wish I could tell you how to even pronounce his name. He described it as similar to Genghis Khan, only with a 'J' sound at the beginning? Maybe? All of us struggled so much to understand him, which was a very frustrating issue to have when we all really wanted to learn the material.<br />
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In any case, we were all familiar with the workout, so we worked hard and got it done.<br />
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That was hour 1 of about a million on the bike that weekend.<br />
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After our first workout, we moved onto the education portion of the morning. We got out our notebooks and prepared to learn, waiting for some guidance as to where that would take place.<br />
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Cop a squat, pals, because the dirty floor of the cycling studio was the provided seating.<br />
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The teacher in me just cringes thinking that somebody really thought these were optimal learning conditions. The oldster in me cringes remembering just how badly my lower back hurt after two days of sitting hunched over on a filthy floor.<br />
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And so the day went. On the bike, on the floor, on the bike, on the floor. We went through the workout together several times, taking turns presenting our pre-assigned tracks. I was thoroughly exhausted by the end of day 1, especially considering the fact that I was so nervous that I hadn't really slept the night before. Sleep came much easier that night.<br />
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Day 2 was much more of the same, only in addition to presenting our material several more times, we also had a fun "challenge" midday. They like to call it the "RPM Ride of Truth." What they should really call it is the "We'll Consider Letting You Instruct If You Can Survive These 30 Minutes" ride. It was fun, guys. I can't tell you how much I love pushing my body to the point of exhaustion, and then just for funsies, enduring a half hour of fitness torture. But refer to my post title- I didn't die.<br />
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In the end, I passed. And by the second day, I felt totally comfortable with my classmates, who were all wonderfully supportive of one another, and me in particular. They called me Newbie (in the kindest way) and all cheered for me when the instructor announced that I'd passed. We'd all bonded over extreme workouts, lack of appropriate seating, and straining to understand the spoken word.<br />
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Although the more seasoned instructors were highly disappointed in this training (for the obvious reasons), I left feeling pretty good. Do I wish some of these issues weren't present? Absolutely. But as frustrating as they were, I left feeling encouraged and uplifted, and like this was something I could actually do, and maybe even be good at. I credit my classmates for this. I left itching to get into my gym and onto the instructor's bike.<br />
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Since then I've had the opportunity to co-teach with a wonderful instructor, and it was awesome. I felt energized by the riders in front of me, and since we had drilled the routine a million and one times during training, I actually felt like I knew what I was doing.<br />
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I'm official now- as of press time, I'm teaching six classes in March. Squee! And for any of my local readers- should you decide to join me sometime, I promise you won't die, either. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-60965097302262767632019-02-19T13:28:00.000-05:002019-02-19T13:28:37.232-05:00Happy Birthday to the One Who Made Me a MomToday my best boy turns 8.<br />
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What a year it has been for Gabe. He is in a weird in-between spot. Sometimes I think he's so little and innocent. Sometimes I feel like I have a teenager on my hands. And sometimes I think he's just a mini-man. <br />
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The in-between. That's where we're at.<br />
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Gabe is a lot of wonderful things. He has such a good heart, and is full of kindness. He wants the best of everything for everyone. He is ultra-responsible. He always does the right thing, and when things need to be taken care of, he's your man. He values his friendships above all other things. <br />
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He is also extremely sensitive. He feels a lot of feelings, and he feels them BIG. This isn't always easy (for him, or us!). When he's angry, sad, or worried, you will definitely know it. There have been a couple of slammed doors and sleepless nights as he's tried to learn how to deal with all of these big emotions in a healthy way. There have been times he's been in trouble for his attitude, and then there are times when he beats himself up without a word from us (like when he was jealous that it was Margot's birthday, and then he was overcome with sadness because he felt bad that he was jealous- he even has feelings about his own feelings).<br />
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When he's feeling particularly moody, he likes to go his room and listen to his music- which lately is all Panic at the Disco. His iPod is his most prized possession, and the Apple Music subscription gives him access to all the rock music his ears can handle. <br />
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If this is 8, I'm having a hard time imagining what will happen when hormones actually kick in.<br />
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On the flip side, he still has so much innocence. He likes to race his RC sports cars and dream about the day he'll own a Bugatti or a McLaren. He has recently gotten into Harry Potter, and likes to cast spells with his pretend wand. He loves video games. Sometimes he'll build an "epic" car track (epic is his word choice for all things he considers cool) and race his Hot Wheels around his bedroom. He likes to draw. He likes to climb on the jungle gym outside and ride his bike down big hills and jump on the trampoline for hours.<br />
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And then I remember that he's still just a little boy.<br />
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Oh, Gabe. <br />
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You keep us on our toes in a way we didn't see coming, but I guess that's parenting. Watching you grow and change and mature isn't always easy, but all of the wonderful moments in between the tough ones make it worth it a million times over. Luckily for us, love is one of those feelings that you feel BIG, and we feel it, too, buddy. <br />
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Happy birthday to you, my firstborn. I hope this year is your best one yet, and that all your birthday wishes come true. <br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-60534987470448351202019-02-12T15:02:00.000-05:002019-02-12T15:02:23.721-05:00The Sweetest Four Year OldThat's my Charlotte.<br />
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My heart hurts a little writing this. Literally just this morning, Facebook showed me this memory: <br />
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It will always be one of my very favorite pictures. Exhausted as I was, I was just so happy. My tiny little squish, all cuddled up on my chest. Nothing in this world is better than a baby sleeping on your chest, amIright??<br />
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And now she's four.<br />
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I just don't understand how time can pass by so quickly. It's this weird thing that moms have, not wanting their babies to grow up. And I think with Charlotte being my last, I am even more desperate to hang onto her <i>littleness</i>. In my mind, age four is a definite switch. Once they hit four, every trace of baby is gone, and they are now just kids. <br />
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Don't mind me sobbing in the corner over here.<br />
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But as much as I wish Charlotte would forever be my tiny baby, it is also pretty great to see her personality continue to develop. If you have met her, you know she really is just the sweetest. She has such a kind heart, and is a friend to everyone. If you haven't met her, I guarantee that she'd charm you in an instant. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>She is charming.</i></td></tr>
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This past year has been a big one for her. She started school, which was a dream come true for her. If she wants anything in life, it's to do the things her big siblings do. If they can do it, she is sure she can do it. She's paid her dues, watching them get go to school or dance class or to a friend's house to play. She is beyond thrilled that she can now do those things, as well.<br />
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She is fashionable. She has strong opinions about what she'll wear. Don't even try to hand this one jeans and a shirt. If it's not a dress (preferably with a tutu), she's not interested. Sneakers? Nope. Only slip-on dress shoes. No socks, thankyouverymuch. And the accessories- oh, the accessories. She won't be caught without them. Even while she sleeps.<br />
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She loves princesses and unicorns and kittens and pink and purple. And she loves her best friend Margot more than ice cream. <br />
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And perhaps my favorite thing about her is she loves to cuddle. She may not be as tiny as she was in that Facebook memory, but she still loves to snuggle in.<br />
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Charlotte Marie, my beautiful baby, I love you so much sometimes I think my heart just might explode. Happy 4th birthday. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-77225092439291753042019-02-05T09:33:00.000-05:002019-02-05T09:33:33.658-05:00My Current DownfallFriends, we have a serious problem in my house. I'm reaching out here because I know we are not alone. I feel confident that I can find support in my community, and perhaps some resources to help us make it through this season.<br />
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It's Girl Scout Cookie time.<br />
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<script async="" src="https://tenor.com/embed.js" type="text/javascript"></script> I know pretty much everyone has a weakness for Girl Scout cookies. They see those sweet little girls at their table outside the Walmart and stock up on Thin Mints to put in the freezer and eat by the sleeve.<br />
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I used to be one of those people. And aside from the Thin Mints, I was also in love with the Peanut Butter Sandwiches. Side note: back in my day, we called them Do-Si-Dos, and that is what they forever will be known as in my heart.<br />
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Then one year I decided I didn't need any cookies. I was going to stay strong and resist the temptation. Of course, this meant not answering the door for the entire month of February and practically wearing a blindfold whilst walking in and out of every store in town. Because, you know, once I make eye contact I become incapable of saying no.<br />
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And then the Thanks-a-Lots came into existence. Damn it.<br />
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I happened to be pregnant that year, and I blame that sweet baby Charlotte and the cravings that she caused for this current issue in my home.<br />
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At first glance, these cookies aren't too troublesome. It's just a simple shortbread, after all- with a heavenly chocolate coating on the bottom. The real trouble came about when I had the idea to dip the cookie into my coffee one morning. (Yes, I said morning. I was pregnant. I could eat cookies for breakfast if I wanted.) It was all downhill from there.<br />
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J was immediately on board. There are few things in life he loves more than dippable cookies. I can't remember exactly how many boxes we went through that first year. I can tell you it was definitely more than one would consider "healthy." We would open a package, split it down the middle, and breakfast was served. (I think that's probably how I grew the sweetest baby on the block that year.)<br />
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Since then, we've made progress. And by progress, I mean that now we have a third adult in the house, so we split the package into three servings instead of two.<br />
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I may need an intervention.<br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-84414647881981981892019-01-25T12:29:00.000-05:002019-01-25T12:29:26.363-05:00The Times, They Are A'Changin'I can remember a time, not so long ago, that I looked for any excuse not to exercise. It was hard. I didn't like it. I was mostly just lazy and didn't wanna. So I didn't. And I was tired all the time, overweight, and generally unhappy with myself as a result. One day I got sick of feeling that way and decided to make some changes. <br />
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I don't post these pictures to brag or to seek compliments. I post them so I don't forget, don't get complacent, and remember that all of the hard work was worth it. And<i> maybe</i> to motivate myself to lose those last few holiday pounds. Seriously, have you guys tried Puppy Chow (the chocolate, peanut butter and powdered sugar coated Chex kind)? It's my December weakness. Also Christmas cookies and celebratory alcoholic beverages. <br />
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Anywho...<br />
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I know you've heard the story before, so I won't rehash the whole thing. But yesterday I stopped to think about how crazy different my life is now than it used to be.<br />
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Meet my new friend.<br />
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First I had to be patient and wait until the first of the year to order (thanks, Microsoft, for your yearly contribution towards our health!). Then I had to wait weeks for it to arrive. Then I had to wait for J to get home and put it together- <i>some assembly required</i> for sure. Then I was finally able to take it for a test ride and I am in love.<br />
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I already knew I'd love it. This is a newer version of the same bike I ride at the gym. Since being forced to cut back on running, I had to find an alternative, and I've really grown to love cycling. Spin class is a crazy good workout, and is no doubt easier on my old lady knees. I've spent quite a bit of time in the cycling studio, and now I'll be able to enjoy this type of workout at home, too.<br />
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All of this contributes to my big news. I'm going back to teaching, just in a different sort of classroom. In a couple of weeks I will spend the weekend on a similar bike, getting certified to instruct indoor cycling classes at my gym. Yesterday my training materials arrived, and I was positively giddy. (Today is supposed to be a rest day for me, but I know I won't be able to resist getting on the bike to try out my assigned tracks.) <br />
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I've already spent time on the bike designing workouts. I bought a notebook to keep my ideas organized. I've created playlists. I've thought about themes. Guys, I'm kind of geeking out about becoming a spin instructor!<br />
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The Betsey of a few years ago would look at the Betsey of today and ask "Who IS this person??" But you know what? I kinda like her. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-30092025523684830542019-01-22T09:32:00.000-05:002019-01-22T09:32:17.903-05:00It's SO WinterYou know how I know? EVERYONE IS SICK.<br />
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It started with Margot. Just a cold with all of its annoying symptoms. The most annoying of all was certainly the lingering cough.<br />
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It moved onto Charlotte, although her was mild compared to big sister's. Then Gabe got it, fierce. Then me. And finally J.<br />
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I kid you not. We are going on week three now, and the coughing has not stopped. We have our own little choir going on, with morning and evening coughs of varying pitches and timbres, sopranos, altos, and tenors and baritones all represented. I'm here to tell you that after having three kids. those muscles that control the bladder are not as strong as they used to be. Don't mind me, I'll just be over here just trying not to pee while I'm hacking my lungs up.<br />
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We've been in various degrees of disrepair for somewhere around a month now, but the light was visible at the end of the tunnel. All of us had our turn, and had either gotten over it, or at least weren't totally miserable anymore (for me and Gabe, this was more than annoying- we just felt BAD for several days). <br />
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Then Margot came home from school on Friday coughing again. And she just couldn't stop. And then the fever hit.<br />
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Here I am, thinking the flu had hit. Yes, we got flu shots as we do every year. But they are no guarantee. Poor Margot had the flu last year, and I was pretty sure she had it again. Her fever hit 104 and she was down for the count.<br />
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How does this happen to my poor kid? Oh, right- it was only a few months ago that I had to ask her to stop licking the soles of her shoe. BARF.<br />
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I am happy to report that several hours in urgent care and a chest x-ray later, she was negative for both flu and pneumonia. It's just another ugly virus that will probably make its rounds through my house. And luckily Margot is a BEAST and is already back up and running.<br />
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But still coughing.<br />
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If you need me, I'll just be coating the house with Lysol and praying for Spring.<br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-30460207180144025792019-01-15T09:59:00.005-05:002019-01-15T10:00:48.577-05:00Happy Birthday, Honey BadgerMiss Margot is 6!<br />
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(I know I'm a few days late with this, but I've had the cold from hell. Forgive me.)<br />
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This year has been such a fun one with my dearest middle child. She started kindergarten this year, and is suddenly even more independent than before- which I did not know was possible. She took to school like a fish takes to water. She got on that bus the first day of school- yes, the VERY FIRST day of school- and hasn't looked back since. She loves it, which makes me so very happy.<br />
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Although she loves school and is very bright, it is not all smooth sailing. Her work habits leave something to be desired. That's the nice way of saying that girlfriend is a disorganized slob. She constantly forgets to bring home her water bottle, her papers are a crumpled mess, her bedroom is a certified disaster area. SHE SPILLS HER DRINK EVERY SINGLE DAY. But she is a happy-go-lucky kinda gal, and neatness just isn't something she concerns herself with.<br />
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I feel confident saying that her best friend is her sister. Charlotte and Margot play together <i>so well</i>. I think they'd be lost without each other. They play school, they play dress-up, they pretend that they're kitties or unicorns (or better yet, uni-kitties). They have "sister sleepovers" on the weekends. They are truly BFF's. Nothing could possibly make me happier.<br />
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Margot has lost some of her sass and gained some sweetness this year. Guys, I think she likes me more than she used to. She tells me that she misses me when she's at school! Sometimes she cuddles with me on the couch. I get random hugs. She asks to do things together, just the two of us. It's hard to carve out one-on-one time with the kids, and especially the middle child. But when she asks to do something together, I make it happen. <br />
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Margot is funny. She's strong. She's smart. She's still a beast (and if looks could kill, she'd destroy you with a glance). She's unique. And she's still not out to please anyone but herself. And that's my favorite thing about her. <br />
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I can't wait to see what this next year brings for my Margot Claire, whom I adore with every ounce of my being. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-75383363571985642182019-01-07T16:00:00.000-05:002019-01-07T16:00:12.570-05:00It's 2019, YoIt's a new year. Let's catch up!<br />
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We spent a wonderful holiday season together. The kids were home, Jason had some time off of work, we had a revolving door of family members here to visit. It was a lovely end to a CUH-RAZY month. Guys, I mommed so hard, trying to prepare the perfect Christmas for all of my loved ones. I am not complaining- I love Christmas, and all of the magic that comes along with it. But it's a lot of work. Shopping, wrapping, baking, gifting, planning activities, class parties, watching ALL OF THE CHRISTMAS MOVIES. (J is a real hard ass when it comes to the Christmas movies. There can be NO Christmas programming on the TV before we have finished the Thanksgiving turkey, and really, I want to watch Elf once a week. So in December, I do. Also, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.) It was a great time full of food, drink, family, and love.<br />
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Meanwhile, I've kept up running as much as my knee will allow (which honestly, isn't that much- BOO.) But before my knee started to crap out, I did a couple of things. I ran my first beer mile. Chug a beer, run a quarter of a mile, repeat x 4. It was super amazing fun. I was a little nervous coming into it, because it had been somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 years since I've chugged a beer. But as it turns out, it's just like riding a bike! Y'all, this girl can CHUG. I was the third place female finisher. I could have maybe come in second, but I was too nervous to look down at my watch to check my pace. Next year, I'm moving up the ranks.<br />
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I also won my first age group award! I was initially feeling a little sad and left out that I wasn't able to run my beloved Holly Springs Half Marathon. But when race day came and I was gearing up to run the 5k, I realized there was a benefit to being one of those running the short race- all of the fast, distance runners were running the half, leaving not that many people behind for the shorter race. I considered for the first time that maybe I could place in the top three ladies in my age group. And I did it! I came in FIRST. It felt great, and for the first time I considered some new running goals that don't involve long distances.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mt7Vls31adg/XDO8F6Ew0iI/AAAAAAAADG8/DUdEoPTEl6sq1dsH0vV1S7ENx2VSiWl8wCEwYBhgL/s1600/E2A36AE7-A806-4DB8-9954-94B1945D7B6F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mt7Vls31adg/XDO8F6Ew0iI/AAAAAAAADG8/DUdEoPTEl6sq1dsH0vV1S7ENx2VSiWl8wCEwYBhgL/s320/E2A36AE7-A806-4DB8-9954-94B1945D7B6F.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Technically, J beat me by 2 seconds. But official race results list me before him, so basically I win.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There have been activities galore. We went to the state fair and a pumpkin farm, I saw Hamilton (AMAZING!), it snowed for a hot minute and the kiddos got soaked, we had a girls day at The Nutcracker, we moved a bunch of stuff from one home to another...<br />
<br />
That's right! We have a new roommate. My sister moved in a few weeks ago. She'll be staying with us while she finishes grad school. My kids are pretty much obsessed with her, which is fine, because she's obsessed with them right back. We're excited to have a built-in babysitter. Also, watch out world, because our Wonder Twin powers are activating. We have serious twin telepathy going on since becoming roomies. Yes, I know we are ten years apart, but twinsies nonetheless.<br />
<br />
That's a tiny nutshell of all of our goings-on, but maybe now that life is getting back to normal (kids in school, yay!), I'll have spare time in an amount longer than 1.4 seconds.<br />
<br />
Happy new year and love to all in 2019! <br />
<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-43500888693579939292018-11-05T15:33:00.000-05:002018-11-05T15:33:42.545-05:00The Princess and the PeaYou know what my favorite is? My bed. It's my happy place. I love to sleep. J and I hang out in bed. As soon as the kids are in bed, J and I are in bed. We'll watch TV, play on our phones, have a beer, eat dessert.<br />
<br />
No, seriously.<br />
<br />
So it was really a bummer when my back started bothering me. I tossed and turned all night, woke up a little hunched over, and started to feel not so great about my bed.<br />
<br />
I remember buying our mattress. We really had to scrimp and save to afford it. We chose a Stearns & Foster, which of course was the most expensive mattress in the store. But it was soft and cushy and pillow-toppy and felt like laying on a cloud. I was a new mom at the time, and I needed a comfy place to nurse and cuddle my boy, and crash when the exhaustion took over.<br />
<br />
Back then, I was young and spry, and cushy was my jam. Fast forward seven years, and I'm old and withered. I needed a firmer mattress. (Not to mention one that didn't have a giant mountain in the middle. It was obvious that the newlywed phase had ended by the trenches on opposite sides of the bed where J and I slept.)<br />
<br />
If you know anything about J, you know that he will most certainly never run out and buy anything on an impulse. When we decided to replace the mattress, the research began. We knew we would NOT be buying a Stearns & Foster, and were intrigued by the "Bed in a Box" movement. We researched...and researched...and researched. Every time I came up with a short list, J came up with a different one.<br />
<br />
BUT...we FINALLY agreed on a mattress, and ordered a Leesa<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">. </span>One day it was delivered in the mail, we unboxed it, and watched it inflate. Weird.<br />
<br />
But man, was I happy to get rid of the trenches. The memory foam was an instant improvement over my old innerspring piece of crap. I felt good.<br />
<br />
For awhile.<br />
<br />
Then my back started bothering me again. In hindsight, I think it probably wasn't great the entire time, but it wasn't as bad as our previous mattress, so I didn't immediately notice. The best thing about these internet delivery mattresses is that they all offer a trial. Whoever heard of such a thing?? Sleep on a mattress for 100 NIGHTS, and if you don't like it, they'll refund your money. Just like that.<br />
<br />
So that's what we did.<br />
<br />
And then, more research, of course.<br />
<br />
J found another internet foam mattress. This one had three levels of firmness. You could flip different layers around, each side independent of the other (!), to suit your needs. This is great for us, because J really prefers a softer mattress than I do. We slept on it for awhile, and I thought all was going well. Until one day I realized that it wasn't.<br />
<br />
I woke up one morning and decided that I was over it. I asked J when our trial period ended...<br />
<br />
He looked up the date, and answered...YESTERDAY.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">SHIT.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So I suffered through it. I
sent J to Home Depot to get a big ole' sheet of plywood to put in between the
foam layers. Again, it bought me some time, but in the end, this mattress
just wasn't going to cut it. No more foam mattresses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">More research.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We found the one traditional
mattress store that also allowed sleep trials. After all, if my
experience had taught us anything, it's that I clearly needed some time to
determine if a mattress was going to work for me, and the price of a mattress
was one expensive gamble.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sidenote: we also looked at Sleep
Number. HOLY SHITBALLS. To get the features that we wanted, it was
going to cost us $10,000. I am not even kidding. TEN THOUSAND
DOLLARS.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But I digress.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We walked into the store, told the
salesman that we wanted a firm mattress, inner spring, no pillow top, no foam,
no muss, no fuss. He showed us the one mattress that fit the bill, and
threw in an adjustable base because it was some holiday sale. (Seriously,
this saga has been ongoing for long enough that I don't even remember what the
holiday was.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Another side note: how old am I that
I was ridiculously excited about an adjustable base? Remember those
commercials for the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed? With the oldsters laying
in their beds, heads and feet elevated? Reading their oldster books with
big smiles on their faces? I am one of them now!</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C482ZFLXU4c/W-Cn_58t3cI/AAAAAAAADGs/EhGvRaGYux80l9Ts3hCwkn_JR9ryCXW0QCLcBGAs/s1600/107993-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C482ZFLXU4c/W-Cn_58t3cI/AAAAAAAADGs/EhGvRaGYux80l9Ts3hCwkn_JR9ryCXW0QCLcBGAs/s320/107993-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How much do you want this oldster bed?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
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<tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;">
<td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ysdhhiSQQD8/W-Cmi1_YVtI/AAAAAAAADGg/xFKNnIFUdM8BvRq1WhrrddQB85SNzlZ7gCLcBGAs/s1600/107993-1.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="mso-ignore: vglayout;"><br /></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;">
<td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;">
</td>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We received our firm,
innerspring, no muss no fuss mattress. It was a little bit <s>like
sleeping on a bed of stone</s> <i>firmer</i> than it had felt in the
store. What would one do in this position? You can't trade in a
mattress for at least 30 nights. And we can't really be looking at
trading in ANOTHER mattress anyway, right?</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So we added foam. If you're
doing the facepalm thing right now, you'd be right on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The foam helped. The bed was
firm, but not unbearable. I didn't exactly have back pain each morning,
but there sure was some stiffness when I got out bed. Apparently, I am a
delicate flower. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">During our 30 night trial, we did
some traveling. J noticed that after sleeping in a couple of different
hotel beds, I woke up feeling great. I joked that this was probably
because I was ultra relaxed since I was traveling without my children, but he
had a point. I checked out the tags on the hotel mattress to see what it
was that I had been sleeping so blissfully on, and the research commenced.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then we went back to the
mattress store.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I only wish this were a big joke.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We traded in one more time, for the
medium-firm version of the most recent mattress. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I am happy to report that at press time, my back
feels great. I am sleeping super great, I am happy to be feeling happy in
my happy place once again.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now if only I could find the perfect
pillow...</span></div>
<br />
(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-70608440981445272072018-10-29T16:22:00.001-04:002018-10-29T16:22:51.618-04:00Don't Call It a ComebackJust kidding, that's exactly what you should call it. Although I <i>have</i> been here for years, I keep running into these annoying obstacles (aka surgeries). But every time I get knocked down, I get back up again. (Did everybody catch my clever LL Cool J references there?) <br />
<br />
So, my knees aren't great. Spending most of my life at an unhealthy weight wasn't great for them. But I lost the weight- good! yay! And I started running- good! yay! Except for my knees weren't as enthusiastic as the rest of me. Actually, they moved <b>way</b> past unenthusiastic all the way to <i>straight pissed</i>. So in an effort to calm them down, surgery. I wrote all about that <a href="https://andersonconfessions.blogspot.com/2018/01/all-feels.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Recovery was lengthy. There were a lot of baby steps. Two baby steps forward, followed by one baby step back. I spent hour after hour either in PT or doing my assigned PT exercises (or in<a href="https://andersonconfessions.blogspot.com/2018/01/back-to-gym.html" target="_blank"> water aerobics</a> with my oldster pals). Waiting, waiting, waiting for the "all clear" to get back to my normal activity level (which is <i>obviously</i> code for running).<br />
<br />
I finally got the go-ahead around Memorial Day. More baby steps, but the strides were a little longer and a little quicker. Running for one minute then walking for two, then running for two minutes followed by three minutes of walking. Working my way up to a full mile of running, then two, then three.<br />
<br />
For the entirety of the summer, I struggled through the oppressive heat and humidity to put miles in. Slow miles, to be sure. But I was running. The summer was filled with these slow, miserable miles. Every weekend I'd add a quarter of a mile onto my "long run", which had been 10 miles prior to surgery. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I was trying to make my way back to six (which is the max I'm allowed now).<br />
<br />
My pace was similar to a snail's when I started, but I didn't care. I knew that once the heat and humidity of the summer had passed, my pace would pick up. A few weeks ago I ran my first 5k of the fall. When I felt the buzz of my watch at the end of the first mile, I looked down and saw 9:05. I literally thought that my watch was broken. When it buzzed after the second mile and the screen read 8:51, I realized that all that of the pep talks I'd been giving myself through the hot and miserable summer miles were true, and that the hard work was indeed paying off. I was getting my speed back.<br />
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A couple of weeks later, I added the final quarter mile onto my long run. I plotted a course and set off for a run all around my town. I thanked my lucky stars every time I came to a red light and had to wait for the crossing signal because it meant that I had a moment to catch my breath. But I finished those six miles. I felt exhausted, and also like a million bucks.<br />
<br />
This past weekend, feeling confident in my comeback, I organized my first group run. My beloved "Sleep In Saturday", six late morning miles followed by beer, because let's be honest- sleeping in, running, and drinking are three of my most favorite things. I was positively giddy in the days leading up to the weekend, because organizing my first Sleep In Saturday meant that my comeback was complete, and that for the fist time in almost a year, I was just going out for a normal run, and not working toward getting back to where I used to be.<br />
<br />
I used to be a runner. I am a runner again. I've come full circle. Life is good. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-45932079383350490052018-10-24T09:53:00.000-04:002018-10-24T09:53:25.646-04:00The LONGEST SummerI live in a weird place.<br />
<br />
I realize that this is a classic "back in my day" scenario, but I'm old now, so I suppose this phrase applies.<br />
<br />
Our county has one big ole' school district. With around 160,000 students attending 183 schools, it's not small. I graduated from a district that had a handful of neighborhood elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. You went to school with your neighbors in a building that was close to home, and then you all moved on together.<br />
<br />
Not so much here.<br />
<br />
Here we are building new schools at a rate that attempts (and fails) to keep up with the growth of the area. Years ago, many elementary schools here transitioned to a year-round calendar to increase capacity in the buildings as groups of kids tracked in and out throughout the weeks. As a teacher, I hard core feared that change. But I rolled with the punches, and discovered that year round schools are AMAZEBALLS. I was super excited to send my kids to our nearby elementary school that happened to operate on the year-round calendar.<br />
<br />
We had a good thing going for kindergarten and first grade, but then the inevitable growth in our area caught us. A new school was built, just as close to us as our current assignment, and I just knew that we'd be sent there. And I was correct. I'm all for a new school, with the shiny new halls and the latest technology, but I'm not all about a traditional calendar.<br />
<br />
Too bad, so sad. We were reassigned, and were forced to roll with the punches again.<br />
<br />
This meant that when our last "track out" came at the end of first grade in the year-round school, it actually became the start of our family's first summer vacation. <br />
<br />
SO, I would have all three kids at home for three long months. Cool, cool.<br />
<br />
Around that same time, trouble starting brewing at J's office. His company wasn't doing particularly well, and had made some announcements that caused the natives to become restless. The writing was on the wall, and even before upcoming layoffs were announced, everyone knew they were looming. Job hunt: commence.<br />
<br />
J has always told me that he's good at what he does, and that he wouldn't have trouble finding another job if that ever became necessary. He was right. Great offers came from great companies- crisis averted. In the meantime, the layoffs came to be. Since he already had another job lined up, J volunteered to be let go. His last day in the office was mid-June. His new job wouldn't begin until mid-August. <br />
<br />
SO, I would also have a husband at home for the majority of the summer. Cool, cool.<br />
<br />
I will be the first to admit, I was <strike>excited</strike> <strike>nervous</strike> terrified of having this extended family time. All day, every day. FOR MONTHS. But really, it would probably be <strike>fun</strike> <strike>tolerable</strike> a shit show. <br />
<br />
All jokes aside, J and I were both unsure of how things would go. We were all used to our routines, and it was clear that routine had been tossed out the window. But we decided that we could focus on not killing each other, or focus on making the best of a once in a lifetime situation.<br />
<br />
So that's what we did.<br />
<br />
Guys, we had an awesome summer. We played putt putt. We splashed in the pool. We drove go karts, went to the beach, rode on a ferris wheel, visited every park we could, ate a lot of ice cream, played a lot of games. Every week was something new and exciting. We stayed super busy, and super happy.<br />
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I am so thankful that the stars aligned, and we were handed this crazy opportunity.<br />
<br />
And lest you think that this family is all sunshine and rainbows...J started his new job and went back to work right about the time that my kids turned into miserable creatures who desperately needed to get their whiny ungrateful little behinds back to school.<br />
<br />
Alas, back to routine. We made it. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-34675305557321858792018-10-16T09:57:00.001-04:002018-10-24T09:54:39.080-04:00For My One FanI have one loyal fan.<br />
<br />
Just kidding- I know there are more of you out there that enjoy reading this blog. And some of you read it because you are related to me and you have to. But one person has hassled me repeatedly, both online and in person, to get back to writing in this space. So for you, my biggest fan, I am going to try and make (yet another) comeback!<br />
<br />
Since it has apparently been eight months since I've gotten my ass onto the computer, I guess I'll begin with a general update on life before I get to the nitty gritty specifics (that makes things sound super interesting, right?).<br />
<br />
Since we last spoke, life has marched on. At least none of my children have celebrated another birthday! But Gabe managed to finish out first grade, Charlotte completed her first dance season, Margot graduated from Pre-K, I got to start running again, Jason started a new job, and we made it through the LONGEST SUMMER EVER after being reassigned to a brand new school that follows a traditional calendar (I miss year-round something fierce). <br />
<br />
While I'd love to <strike>bore you</strike> fill you in on all of the day-to-day that's gone on, alas, I've been away too long for that. But over the next few posts, I'll back up in time and give you the deets on some of the more major moments of the past, and fill you in on some current happenings, as well. <br />
<br />
I promise that I'll try and be more regular with my posting! Life somehow always gets in the way, and this is the easiest thing to let slide. But I'll work on it, promise. For YOU, my <strike>drove of adoring readers</strike> lone reader. <br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-84871238362643478822018-02-19T10:00:00.000-05:002018-02-19T10:00:34.817-05:00He's SEVEN! A Year in ReviewWhat a year it has been. Today my boy is seven. Let's take a minute and let that sink in. SEVEN.<br />
<br />
Guys, he is such a kid. I know that sounds weird, because of course he's a kid. But I have spent so many years in a haze of babies and toddlers that a real kid is new territory to me. <br />
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Gabe has always been quiet and shy, and that still holds true at times. But he has come out of his shell so much in the past year. School has done him so many favors! At a recent conference with his teacher, she mentioned that he is <i>so social</i>. J and I just shared a shocked look- you could have knocked us over with a feather. Never in a million years would we have expected to hear this from a teacher.<br />
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Aside from being social, Gabe has really honed in on some of his interests this year. He started the year off being obsessed with art. He loves to draw, paint, and sculpt. He has quite a collection of original canvases. He is never more excited than when he gets to work on a cool project in art class at school. He has taken several after school drawing and painting classes. He loves to create.<br />
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He also LOVES music. We gave him an old, first generation original iPod (thanks, Mimi!). He's obsessed with it. If he's in his room (which he is frequently, because, big kid), he is playing his music through a speaker. If he's in the car, he's listening to his music on his headphones. He can't get enough. And he likes really cool music. He's a fan of Foo Fighters, AC/DC, Boston, Def Leppard, The Who, and lots of others. He wants to learn how to play (he's going to DIE when he opens the guitar from his grandparents tonight!). The boy loves rock. <br />
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He's decided to give soccer a try. He is definitely not the most coordinated kid on the block, but he really seems to think soccer is fun. He plays on the playground at school and kicks the ball around the yard at home. I'm so excited to watch him play this season, and hope that it continues to bring him joy.<br />
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He also loves sharks, Minecraft, building with Legos, playing Rock Band (on the X-Box or pretending to rock out in his room), swimming, hoarding everything (he's a bit sentimental), doing tricks on his scooter, and pretending to race obstacle courses à la American Ninja Warrior. <br />
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Gabe is such a unique soul. He is sensitive, smart, kind, and handsome. He is as empathetic as they come. I know I'm 100% biased, but all of these things are so, so true. As much as I hate to see my babies growing up, I feel like it's a real privilege to be watching this boy develop into such an amazing human being.<br />
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Gabriel, my first born, I love you more than you'll ever know. I hope seven is your happiest year yet. <br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-4488815585621643022018-02-18T15:18:00.000-05:002018-02-18T15:18:12.352-05:00Classic Honey BadgerOne of those milestones in kids lives is the first loose tooth. I feel like most kids- <i>especially</i> those with older siblings- get super excited at the first sign of a wiggly tooth. They are constantly putting their fingers in their mouths, pushing and pulling on the tooth, checking to see if maybe it moves a little bit more today than it did yesterday. Basically, counting the days until the Tooth Fairy arrives.<br />
<br />
Not my kid.<br />
<br />
The other day, Margot said, with her deadpan, expressionless voice: "I used to have this tooth I could chew with, but now, it's gonna fall out."<br />
<br />
I was so excited! I assumed that she had just realized she has a loose tooth. I asked her to show me.<br />
<br />
Guys, <i>it was barely hanging on by a thread</i>. That tooth had to have been loose for <b>weeks</b>. She never thought it was worth mentioning!<br />
<br />
I told her that the tooth was certainly going to fall out that day, and after thinking about it for a minute, also told her that she should be sure to tell me when that happened.<br />
<br />
I was totally surprised when she went to bed that night, teeth still intact.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I greeted the kids at the breakfast table. I made the coffee, packed the lunches, and went about my morning business. About a half hour later, Margot says "Mom! Look what I found on the table!"<br />
<br />
The tooth, of course.<br />
<br />
I asked "Did your tooth just fall out?!?"<br />
<br />
Margot says "No, it fell out in my bed."<br />
<br />
She explained to me that she was pushing it around with her tongue, and it just fell out onto her bed. And she brought it downstairs with her. <br />
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And she didn't think that was immediately worth mentioning.<br />
<br />
Honey badger just don't give a shit. <br />
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(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-90446913678259205032018-02-12T15:20:00.000-05:002018-02-12T15:20:17.377-05:00She's Three!**Better late than never. My sweet child, please don't take my tardiness as I sign that I love you any less than your siblings, whose birthday posts have been on time. Just take it as a sign that you three munchkins keep Mama super busy.** <br />
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Oh, Miss Charlotte. How can it be possible that three whole years have passed since you came into our lives? It seems like only yesterday we brought you home from the hospital, a tiny little smooshy bundle of snuggle.<br />
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My how you have grown over the past year. You have developed such a personality! I think you may be a bit like your mama. You are social! You have never met a stranger. You'll play with any kid, anywhere. You smile and wave at everyone as we walk by. And if someone wants to pick you up and hold you, they are immediately your best friend. <br />
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You are so affectionate, especially with your parents. I always hoped I'd have a baby that just wanted to snuggle her mama, and you are that baby! You are constantly climbing into bed with me, giving hugs and kisses, and saying "I love you, Mama." You are so anxious to greet me in the morning, in fact, that a couple of weeks ago, you came into my room in the morning. When I told you that I was still sleeping, you whispered "That's okay, I still coming up."<br />
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You adore your siblings. I love to hear your laughs when you are playing with them. They have taught you how to use your imagination, and you create characters and use little voices. You can whinny like a horse while you gallop around the house better than any 3-year old I've ever met. Whatever Gabe and Margot are doing, you want to do. They are teaching you all about independence. One of your most repeated phrases these days is "I just doing it myself."<br />
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You are so girly. The first thing you do in the morning is put on your "princess" shoes. Pink, sparkly high heels that you run around in (ummm...like mother, like daughter). You'd prefer to wear a floral dress or better yet, a tutu each day. You like to have a bow in your hair, or maybe a braid like Elsa. You were thrilled to receive a little purse for your birthday. <br />
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You are growing up into a little person, but you still say words like skideddi and reindadeer. And yes, my heart will break when you stop these adorable mispronunciations. Just like it breaks every day when you tell me "I'm not a baby anymore, I a tobbler."<br />
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WHY MUST YOU INSIST ON GROWING UP?<br />
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My baby, you were the PERFECT addition to our family, and you really do complete us. I love you with every bit of my heart. I know you must grow up, but I'm begging you- please keep snuggling your Mama forever and ever.<br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-17964252017369806792018-01-26T16:32:00.000-05:002018-01-26T16:32:42.738-05:00Like a Boss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the past couple of years, emptying the garbage cans around the house on trash night has been Gabe's job. <br />
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Just like any <strike>slave driver</strike> responsible mother, I start 'em young when it comes to chores. After all, the more responsibilities they have, the fewer left for me, no? Why else do people have children? J is already counting the days until he never has to mow the lawn again.<br />
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I kid. Except for the part about J never wanting to mow the lawn. That part is totally true. <br />
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Now that birthdays are upon us, it's time to reevaluate the chore list of each child. Gabe is turning seven, so he can handle some higher level stuff. And since Margot just turned five, she can take over some of Gabe's old chores. Like the garbage.<br />
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For several weeks leading up to M's birthday, I had her help Gabe empty the trash cans. You know, to learn the ropes. I told her that when she turned five, she'd have to handle it without Gabe's help.<br />
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Her birthday came. She turned five. She became eligible for solo garbage handling. And so I set her to work.<br />
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I was already upstairs beginning the bedtime prep when I remembered it was trash night. I reminded Margot about her job, and she ran right downstairs to grab a garbage bag and handle it. A few minutes later, she came running back upstairs, empty handed.<br />
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"You forgot about the upstairs trash!" I told her.<br />
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"No, I didn't! I'm getting it!"<br />
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"Where is the garbage bag?" I asked.<br />
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Her reply killed me. "Charlotte's bringing it up. She holds the garbage bag while I dump the trash in." Sure enough, here comes Charlotte, walking up the stairs, dragging a half-full garbage bag behind her.<br />
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So on the very first night that Margot was supposed to handle this particular chore on her own, she took it upon herself to delegate half of the job to her little sister.<br />
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Like a boss.<br />
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This girl is going places.<br />
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-46516754656369178742018-01-22T15:54:00.000-05:002018-01-22T15:54:17.627-05:00Back to the Gym!Y'all.<br />
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Today I made it back to the gym for the first time in eight weeks! And let me tell you, it was some kinda special.<br />
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I have been DYING to get back into the gym. I NEED some calorie burn in my life, since I've filled it with nothing but food and beer for many weeks now. But there really isn't much I can do in the way of cardio. Before now, I've only gotten the ok for a few seated upper body exercises, and although I did this some, it hardly felt worth the effort.<br />
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But I was finally given a new option: water aerobics.<br />
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I know what you're thinking. That is a class meant for oldsters. And you know what? YOU ARE TOTALLY RIGHT.<br />
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I was actually nervous to show up this morning. It's a new gym, new class, new people. I didn't know the protocol. I left the house extra early to make sure I had plenty of time to get Charlotte settled in the childcare center, plenty of time to find a locker, plenty of time to meet the instructor and get the scoop on what to expect.<br />
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Side note- as I was getting ready to head out, I told Charlotte to get in the car. Since my surgery, she has become accustomed to not leaving the house in the mornings. When I told her to get in the car, she <i>yelled</i> "WE GOING TO THE GYM??" She was seriously <b>so</b> excited. She has missed it, too. Adorbs.<br />
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Anywho, I got there with plenty of time and headed to the pool.<br />
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There was a literal sea of old ladies, with a few old men sprinkled in here and there. The pool was packed. There were at least sixty geezers bobbing up and down, waiting for class to start.<br />
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The instructor saw me hobble in, leaning on my cane, and immediately came over to chat with me about modifications and fill me in on what to expect. She then helped me into the pool and lined my cane up with about 20 others against the walls.<br />
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<b>She lined my cane up with the others. How is this my life right now?!?</b><br />
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The people watching was amazing. Half of the ladies are there for the exercise, but the other half are clearly there for social hour. They waded from one end of the pool to the other, greeting each other, kissing cheeks, and catching up on oldster life. Several of the ladies introduced themselves to me, as I obviously stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone knew I was a newbie. I heard about Pat's knee replacement, Jeannie's husband's hip replacement, and how loud the music was today (it was all Beatles tunes, pumped up with some aerobics beat). One lady mentioned that I must feel like I was in my mother's class. I didn't have the heart to say what I was really thinking- "More like my grandmother's!"- so I just smiled and agreed.<br />
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The workout was ok- not as pain free as I was hoping, and definitely not as intense as I'd like. But at the end of the day, I GOT A WORKOUT.<br />
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Also, I think I have a gaggle of new old lady friends. They can't wait to see me back on Wednesday.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just imagine me plopped right in the middle of these grandmas, trying desperately to fit in.</td></tr>
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<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514702646302129351.post-15780035850077301692018-01-15T10:00:00.000-05:002018-01-15T10:00:01.970-05:00Exceptional Eats: Taco SoupI love it when I try out a new recipe, and it's not only easy, but delicious.<br />
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This recipe popped up in my life at such a good time. I've been struggling to cook meals while tied to these crutches, so we've been relying on easy meals and carry out. Any recipe that is easy enough for J to handle is a winner in my book!<br />
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Plus, tacos. Who doesn't love tacos? Only these are tacos in soup form. Which is perfect on these cold winter nights.<br />
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And did I mention how easy this is to make? Seriously, guys. It's a matter of opening cans and jars and dumping them into a pot of deliciousness.<br />
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This one's a winner! Thanks, Pinterest, for throwing this into my life. Check out the recipe<a href="https://www.thediaryofarealhousewife.com/taco-soup/" target="_blank"> here</a>.<br />
<br />(almost) gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15642174708981126689noreply@blogger.com0