One Step at a Time

January 31st: Derek is seven. For years, I thought he would be my baby. Even though we had Camryn when he was four, I quickly learned that each child is always your baby.

Derek is my craziest monkey. At 10 months old, he could scale our bookcase. As in, climb seven feet off the ground. Imagine my constant state of shock when he’d go missing. He was the silent climber type. I was always accusing his 2 year old brother of hiding him, but Derek always climbed into odd places and hid himself. He loved to be at the highest point of the room at all times. Truly, it was foreshadowing to his lifelong obsession with superheroes. When he was three, he jumped off a 10 foot slide and broke his wrist. The emergency room doctor gave him a firm chat about not really being Superman, and that little boys had to stay safe, etc.. When we were walking out of ER, he muttered to himself, “I just didn’t have my cape on, that’s all.”

As a baby, he was a rotten sleeper. I’d get up 2 -3 times per night with him til he was almost three years old. That sounds worse than it truly was … I remember kind of liking those quiet couch times curling up with him, him falling asleep quickly in my arms. Y’know, he still gets up at least once a night, and often crawls in with us. He’s a cuddler to say the least.

He’s a sweet blonde angel, whose words could melt your heart. His “love language” is clearly gifts: he remembers everything and anything everyone has ever given him, but I would never say he’s selfish. He is also an incredibly generous child. I’d say five nights out of seven there is a note or a homemade something on my pillow when I go to bed. Santa gave him envelopes in his stocking, and for a reason … he is constantly writing notes to people. The Amazing Hip blessed him with a Christmas card this year, and he’s still sleeping with it under his pillow (and working on his reply). (He does have that hoarding thing going … yeesh. I could clean out under his bed DAILY and find new treasures.) He’s a Lego nut, as I’ve said, and he has about 10 thousand knock knock jokes that draw on (sigh) potty humour. He’s although as athletic as can be, taking his training wheels off of his bike at age three (yikes!). He’s running with me, determined to race a 5k with me in the spring. He also wants to swim and “play on a real hockey team” next year.

I have learned so much about myself from being this boy’s mom, it’s mind-boggling. I write this as if the most amazing and awesome bond was his and mine, but it’s no secret around here that his favourite person in the world is his dad. Kevin took the day off today to volunteer in his classroom and the grin on Derek’s face on his way out the door was explosive. He’s his Daddy’s boy, no contest.

But, he has reserved a place for me in his life. You see, he says he’s never getting married (the whole girls = yuck thing), but he is going to adopt a bunch of kids and live in the jungle and sometimes he’ll pay for my flight to come visit them so I can cook them all lasagna and garlic toast and then he’ll take me on a ride on his motorbike to get mint chocolate chip ice cream.

And thank-you for that, my-craziest-monkey… I’m so OK with that.

Happy Birthday, buddy. Love you to the moon.

Woke up to rain this morning … tomorrow morning it’s supposed to get (a bit) colder, so driving could be interesting tomorrow!

It’s my kid-free, work from home day (can’t you see how I’m applying myself??), and I did get out for a good run this morning. Hopefully Derek and I will get out together tomorrow.

There are times when I wish I could be a less analytical, less sensitive really, person. The kind of person that worries only about what color of hair foils to get and which movie to see next. That’s not me. Sad news makes me cry, and I worry and wonder “why?” a lot. I’m going through an emotional time of digging deeper, and I’m sure there are great payoffs to that eventually, but it is hard work.

Running helps. It clears my mind.

You know that wonderful, exciting, breathtaking “flippity flop” feeling you get in your stomach?? When you get amazing news, or when your husband flirts with you, or you catch your kids hugging and they’re not putting on a show for you so that they get to play Game Cube longer because, in fact, they don’t even know you’re peeking from the other room? I love that feeling, it’s part of what I live for.

I had that feeling on my run last night. I’m not supposed to be running at night, with the insomnia bit, but there has been no choice this week as I’ve had sick kids all week. Every morning is a bingo game to see who is well enough to go to school. Every night, I have handed out at least three doses of fever-reducing medication … I’m praying not to the same child. (Hmmm … that’s why he’s so dozey today ….. KIDDING!) So running in the morning is not something I can humanly do this week.

So I headed out last night at about 8 p.m., after everyone was settled.

It was about -8 Celcius … crisp and dark and QUIET. I didn’t run the paths, because they’re not lighted. I ran the streets just around my home, because I didn’t know how long I’d want to be out. It was glorious to be alone, me and the sound of the shoe on a skiff of snow. When I started walking out the door, and breathed in the cool air ….

…. flippity flop.

Love that.

I spend a lot of time with people. With the adults I teach, on the phone with their clinical preceptors, with my kids, my husband, some dear friends. It’s a busy, people-packed life, full of conversation and laughs and analysis and discussion and problem-solving …..

Sometimes it’s nice to be alone. Just me and my running. Flippity flop, I have no other way to describe it.

A friend called today to see if I wanted to start running with her in the mornings … “so we could catch up” …. and I gratefully declined. I certainly don’t underestimate the value of a partner … without my friend, V, or the group from the running clinic, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to enter, let alone run, the 5k I did last September.

But for right now, I’ll just have a running date with me.

Oh my.

The news came via mail by courier. I’m about to be published. Brace yourself.

Apparently, in the height of my insomnia days when I was entering a few free online contests, I entered the Bounty One-Sheet Challenge. Apparently I wrote a little ditty about what you can do with one sheet of Bounty paper towels. I say apparently, because I never saved this great piece of writing, and now I’m racking my brains to think what I might have written.

And, I won 3rd prize. A year’s supply of paper towels.

Hot diggity dog!

Can you hear me giggling from Alberta??? C’monnnnn …. listen harder!!!!!!! I’m a published writer!!!!!! Grandma would be so proud!!!!

PS: And to think I couldn’t even win first!??! Isn’t that hilarious!?!?

PSS: I’ll let you know what I wrote … ummmm …. when I find out. So … what could you do with just one sheet of Bounty??

Despite my well-endowed cold (rolling my eyes at all of you.. lol) …. we made our way to the Bryan Adams concert last night.

Phenomenal. It was the most amazing concert. For ONE of his encores, it was just Bryan and his guitar … for 45 minutes. What a performance. I swooned, and my hubby watched me swoon. We were 18th row on the floor, right smack in the middle.

I saw this guy with my high school girlfriends in 1984. We all bought new lighters (well, because we weren’t smokers) and new pastel sweatshirts and new Santana jeans with the pinstripe down the side (ahhh … the 80′s..) and talked on the phone all day of the concert, about what to wear (like Bryan would see us … sigh!). I remember one particularly detailed phone call with my best friends from high school, about whether or not to wear mascara, as we might cry. (Of course we did, we were 14!!!) So, last night, at age 36, I called her a few hours before we left, and left this message on her voicemail:

“Ummmm … Teri? Yeah, I’m just heading out to see Bryan Adams tonight, and I know you’re going to see him tomorrow night in Calgary. So … I was just wondering …. does a girl wear mascara or not? Get back to me.”

Her email reply was:

Mascara for Bryan? NEVER!

I wonder who the “Bryan Adams” of my daughter’s life will be? Hmmmm.

Which performer does this for you?

PS: Update on the “chesty” cold …. I’m now on antiobiotics and have stopped running for a few days. Plan to get back in the swing on Thursday. The cold now makes its way through our house …. Kevin had it first, Camryn’s just getting over it … Derek is home sick from schoool today …. Troy wishes he had it because he swears we’re having a party today while he’s at school….

Despite a chesty cold today, which has plagued the whole family, I did get out for a 35 minutes, slow and easy run today. Run might even have been a strong word, it was a shuffle. But I got out and it’s one of those beautiful warm wintry days with a lovely fresh snowfall … so it was worth it.

What are the guidelines for running when sick again? I remember something about this vaguely … if the cold’s in your head, it’s OK? Is that it? What’s your rule?

My heart goes out to the families and loved ones of the West Virginia miners who died so tragically. As the wife of a mine rescuer (thankfully who has never worked at an underground mine), I especially feel for the wives and children who are grieving.

I’m excited … I’ve been taking Derek with me running during this Christmas break. He loves it! Our plan is to do a race together in the spring, and it’s all he talks about. I’m looking for a 5k for us, or a 2.5 k especially for kid’s … if you know of anything in Edmonton, Red Deer, or Calgary, give me a shout.

The energy and cardiovascular endurance of this boy has me in awe. He is turning seven this month, and is a very, very physically active child by nature, which can be frustrating for us in many situations. His teacher says he does not have ADD, but some babysitters have used that word loosely. Grrrr. He can play Lego for hours (check out his Legoworld below…) and write and illustrate a book at one sitting. As I’ve always known, he just needs to get his yahoos out before he can truly concentrate. I’ve noticed on the days we run, he gets those yahoos out and is just calmer and better behaved. I’ve always known that about him … Hmmmm, come to think of it, so am I. I just have us doing 5 and 1′s right now, and he chatters all through the run, and ends up jogging for most of the walk break. Mostly, I think he loves the one-on-one time with me. It’s a running monologue for him, with no brother or sister to interrupt. I’ve heard more stories this week about his teacher, the “Grade Two-er” on the playground that butts in line all of the time, and what Santa would be doing with his time off right now …. it’s all very cool conversation.

Part of me is wishing I could find something to do like this with Troy … something physical and daily. I invited him to run with us, and got a “NO WAY.” He’ll bike it with us when the ice goes, I’m sure, but he has no interest in running and I respect that. I guess it’s always the issue as a parent of carving out equal individual time with each kid. We’ll figure it out.

Anywho, my dream of racing with one of my kids is coming true much sooner than I ever expected! YAY!

My kids are big on this show, and due to that, my daughter insisted that yesterday was Lemur Day, not New Year’s Day. You take the hugs any way you can get ‘em, I say.

We had a lovely, quietish New Year’s. Our town does a fireworks / family fun night at a pond at 9 p.m., and it was awesome this year. I love fireworks. They always choke me up for some reason.

Like the rest of the world, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on my 2005, and my goals for 2006. In a running sense, I could describe 2005 as getting brave enough to get to the start line. I’m not just talking re: doing my first race, but truly about gaining confidence as a runner, adopting a “can do” approach to my running, and joining the RBF party and writing about it. I would truly mark 2005 down as the year that I became a runner, one step at a time.

So if 2005 was the year that I got my number, then 2006 is going to focus on staying in the race. I want to see more consistency in my running. More commitment, more mileage, more of a routine of getting in the run in the morning because I know that all of the excuses and sidetrackings are still sleeping then. I’ll get those goals down in measurable terms next week when kids return to school! Of course, with that comes many more sub-goals, of which I’ve already shared with you.

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We rented Cinderella Man tonight. I know, I’m the last person on the planet to see it. I won’t let that shame stop me from raving about it, though. I’m such a sucker for a fight movie. I grew up on the Rocky flicks, and there is something about watching a good boxing movie that brings out such a gut-wrenching reaction in me. I couldn’t sleep for days after watching the movie Ali. There’s something about the black-and-white of it, the training, and the drive and passion someone would have to have to put themselves in that situation … it just gets me. There’s caring about stuff, there’s loving something, and then there is true passion for something. And passion doesn’t let you sit out, it requires you to be in the ring.

Besides watching fight flicks from the couch (sigh), I am passionate about many things. Obviously, I’m passionate about God, my husband, my kids, my family and friends. That all goes without saying.

Three other things I’m passionate about,

Three Things That Bring Me to the Ring:

1. I’m passionate about writing. I can’t not write … I would go crazy if I truly couldn’t write everyday. If I had to pinpoint it, I love writing for kids the most. I gave three families in our lives books this year, with their kids as the heroes. My greatest moment was when one boy said, “I was SO hoping for this”, as he wanted a continuation of last year’s tale.

2. I’m passionate about recreation therapy, and working with geriatrics … but truly I’m most passionate about connecting old people with children. Intergenerational therapy, especially with clients with dementia, is my specialty and my love. If I won the lottery, I’d build an enormous franchise of long-term care centers attached to daycares and schools. It only makes sense, really. There is something so awe-inspiring and so pure about seeing a wrinkled hand holding a new one. Words don’t do that justice. Check it out sometime.

3. Am I passionate about running? I’d be lying if I said those words, because I’m not there in a capital letter sense yet. But I am passionate about pushing myself, about making myself uncomfortable by stretching my limits to see what I can do. Running was my #1 Thing To Push Myself With a year ago, and I can truthfully say that I’m hooked. I’m more passionate about the oomph behind the run, truly.

So … I wanna know … what are three things that bring you to the ring?

Meanwhile, I hope the Year of the Lemur is wonderful and prosperous for you and yours!