Sunday, April 17, 2016

The best & the broken

Yesterday, I had therapy & it wasn't terribly "productive"; rather than working on stuff, it was more like 50 minutes of pleasant chatting.
Which is awesome because that means at the moment I don't have stuff to work on.
Yes, I'm cranky about my temporary lack of activity.
It's temporary & it's completely out of my control & accidents just simply happen.
And cranky is a million times easier to deal with than depressed or anxious.
Cranky is a mood, not a looming cloud or ugly void.
Oddly enough, the turning point for me just happened to be on my birthday even though it began with an injury.
It's been a full week of an inexplicable shift in my mood...a lightness that I can't explain & don't really care to.
And I'm not going to waste any time wondering or waiting for it to pass, because maybe it won't.
And if it does, I will deal with it.
I'm getting better at that.

Oh, and at therapy, the news of my dad & Cary's recent engagement came up.
Not in a "ugh my dad is getting married and I'm freaking out how do I deal with this?" kind of way; more like, "Oh. And my dad and Cary got engaged and her ring is so beautiful and they're so excited. It's awesome!!" kind of thing.
So after the aforementioned 50 minutes of chatting, we agreed that maybe we stretch it out between the next appointment. As much as I click with (and genuinely like) my shrink, I don't need to shell out mega bucks to sit in his office and exchange pleasantries about books I've read recently or how awesome things are lately.

That was Thursday.
By Friday night, I was in a weird & manic sort of funk.
Because I'm not doing anything physically challenging at the moment, I have all this pent up energy and it's finding weird ways to wend its way through my system...reminds me of nesting.
I've been deep-cleaning the house, organizing drawers and cabinets, purging crap left and right, switching out art work on every possible wall space, rearranging shit. It's maddening, kinda.
Our home has reached that dismal point where everything seems to look tired at once;
the walls are dingy and mottled with hand prints, crayon marks, scuffs...the (hand-me-down) furniture is sagging and worn, the carpets are scratchy and developing tripping-hazard-sized mounds that need to be stretched tight (or ideally, replaced altogether)...
So, while everything is tired, at least it is tidy, clean, and more organized by the day.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016


On my forty-first birthday, I busted my foot during the last quarter mile of my morning run.
Like busted busted (the orthopedic doc strongly suspects it is broken; he wants an MRI in addition to the x-rays, but our insurance wants to hear that straight from the doc. Insurance, I am glad I have you, but you can go ahead and eat a dick).
Tomorrow will be a week since I fell and I'd like to take this opportunity to pat myself on the back for keeping whining to a minimum and not dragging everyone else down with me.
Some running goals have been squashed, but I'm surprisingly okay with that.
I ran a solid 15k a few days before turning 41& crossed the finish line with my bestie; while I wasn't setting the world on fire with my pace, I was truly stoked to begin logging miles in preparation for Broad Street (yep, I got selected in the lottery).
Other than Broad Street, I really had my heart set on crushing the local trail series (and was well on my way with two age-group wins in the book) and possibly attaining a PR at what would've been my third half-marathon.
Plans have changed.
I've deferred my Broad Street entry to next year (smart move).
I might be able to do a trail race at the tail end of the series, but am out of the running for an overall placing (it was super fun to chase points again, I'll admit it).    
That's that blah blah my feet for a bit, but I'll be back.
The good news is, I have been riding again. And I've been loving it.
The timing is great, as I'm sure I'll be back in the saddle before I am back on my feet.
Let's face it; it doesn't even feel like spring yet. The weather has been bullshit. I'm hardly missing anything.
Maneuvering around on crutches has proven to be a tough upper-body/core workout.
Nothing is hindering my ability to do any cross-training that doesn't involve my feet or ankles.
So, it's fine.
This is truly nothing.
(I mean, insurance sure doesn't think a broken foot is important, so...)

I love running.
I love running alone.
I love running with my friends.
I love running in the woods...on pavement. In the rain (when it's not cold rain).
In a sea of racers (though I do NOT like the crowds before the race actually starts).
In the dark morning, through town by the glow of street lights, sometimes the moon, our headlamps, various blinky safety lights.
I love the rush of endorphins, the good stretch after a long run, the Epsom soak to thank my legs for being strong...
I love to run.

I also love to write and paint and cook and play with my kids and watch movies at home by the fire and hang out with my friends and plenty of other shit to keep me busy while I nurse another silly injury.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

on this last day of my fortieth year (bahahahahahahahahaha!!)

I don't have the energy to reflect on this shit...
I'm forty-ONE tomorrow.
My Angry Elevens are far more prominent than they were a year ago (so what?).
I'm pretty much blonde to cover the gray (I imagine this is how my mom became a blonde, too; though, unlike me, she totally looked like a natural blonde).
I don't know...other than that, I'm happy to be here.
I still feel young, sometimes naive, more often than not wise, and not at all hung up on "aging."
Women my age are fast and strong.
And some are even beautiful.
That's all. The end (of that).

More importantly, the day after my birthday, Bill and I will celebrate our fourth year of being hitched.
That still feels new most of the time.

Sunday, March 27, 2016


It's been a while.
I'm sharing a photo of my children sound asleep in their bedroom at my dad's beach house.
Sometimes I feel like the laziest/least patient/shortest-fused/moody/incapable/failing parent in the whole world.
Obviously, an exaggeration; but, one I believe most parents can easily relate to.
Yes, my kids are fed, clothed, loved. Sheltered. Warm. Educated. Basic needs are met and then some. Yay! all (most? Some? Help me out here...), I'm super-critical of my parenting foibles and quick to highlight my missteps, when I should revel in the right or good or commendable things I'm doing for my kids.
I had this brilliant idea of escaping to the beach for Easter weekend. 
Any semblance of Easter traditions or rituals have all but disappeared since my mom died (which isn't saying much, as we've never made it a big deal; nor, are we a religious family). Easter has always meant celebrating springtime (blooming dandelions, pink trees come to life, bunnies hopping through the yard), candy, and hunting for hidden eggs. I don't know if I've dyed eggs with Max ever.
Our Easter baskets are modest compared to what I've seen posted on various social media by friends & strangers alike.
Anyway (again).
We visited my brother in Coal Township Friday morning (Good Friday, as it were). Two hours in the car with two kids and admittedly paltry snacks, yet they behaved beautifully with zero complaint.
The visit went well.
My brother was so happy to see all four of us together. He & Max bonded over Max's detailed rundown of Batman v Superman (spoilers encouraged by Rob)...we caught up, reminisced about my dad's various road rage incidents that may or may not have informed some small part of our childhood, talked about art and music and food and family and jail.
The usual.
We departed before the kids got antsy and began our three-plus hour trek to the beach.
Again, the kids were awesome.
I declared the remainder of our Holiday Weekend "Plan-free. No agenda."
We basically followed the kids' lead; walk to the beach after dinner? Yes. Go to the place with the Easter bunny for breakfast? Sure. Visit the boardwalk & spend what seems like eternity in the comic shop? Absolutely? Eat tacos for dinner? No problem.
Maeve was insistent on playing at the beach Saturday morning & I indulged her for as long as she was willing (gusty winds, forty degree temps). Luckily, that amounted to mere minutes.
Friday night, we watched Overboard & most of National Lampoon's Vacation with Max after Maeve went to sleep. Max wanted to sleep on the couch with the tv on. "Sure, go for it."
I kept saying to Bill, "they're really being so good." 
(As if they're usually mischievous heathens; they're not, by the way).
Max and I caught a cold which leveled me the better part of Saturday afternoon. 
Because the Bunny had baskets to fill, we encouraged Max to share the room with his sister at bedtime.
I was expecting whining & arguing (he likes the door open & lights on; she likes the fan loud & room dark, door shut).
They compromised together & we could faintly hear them talking. No idea what they were chatting about and I refrained from eavesdropping...the chatter was short-lived, as they both crashed out. Exhausted & deep into that wonderful slumber one can only fall into at the beach...damn, it's good to be a kid.
I peeked in before basket-filling could commence & gave myself the metaphorical pat-on-the-back for a job well done.
The night light was on, fan on medium, and door cracked slightly.
Compromise & consideration, all on their own.
Lately I get more than I give; to my spouse, to my kids, to our life.
I'm in & out of sickness, adjusting to meds, taking more time for myself than I deserve or even need (running, painting, sleeping)...I can see my husband is stretched thin/juggling/picking up all sorts of slack all while providing for us & driving a shitty commute day after day after day.
Even during this holiday weekend, when he probably needs a break more than any of us, he is taking care of me once again.
As we assemble our kids' Easter baskets (and dig into our new addiction, Cadbury WHITE CHOCOLATE mini eggs; don't knock them til you try them), I thank him and apologize for being a slacker.
We're in this together, always, he reminds me.
It was a good Plan-free Easter weekend.
We didn't quite reset or rejuvenate, but those weren't really our expectations anyway.
We set out to simply connect with my brother, enjoy a change of scenery, unplug from our devices, and follow the whims of our kids.
Now we are home.
I am riding out a fever & chucking lots of tissues into the trash from my bed.
Bill is piecing together a makeshift Easter dinner for himself & the kids.
Maeve is grumpy from a day that began at 6am with way more candy than any little kid should consume in one sitting (whose idea was the trail of jelly beans??).
Max is stuffy and sniffling on the couch, completely wrapped up in a new animator app on his phone.
I hope they had fun & I hope they remember these impromptu adventures when their parents say "yes!" more than "no" or "not right now" or "maybe."
I hope they find ways to connect when they're grown and have their own families; however, I hope when they reminisce, they're not doing so over vending machine snacks & soda in a prison visiting room.
I hope they remember the trail of jelly beans and bunny pancakes and playing together, but I also hope they remember visiting their uncle in jail; I hope they pull those experiences from their memory banks when they're in the throes of making tricky decisions.
So, there it is.
Good job.
Well done.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016


Sometimes the kids destroy me & I long for a minute. A pause.
"Just...give me a minute. Please."
Sometimes my little girl says,
"You be the little girl. I'll be the mommy."
"Okay," I say.
"I'll play with you after I drink my tea. Just give me a minute."
Sometimes it's long after they've gone to sleep.
And my husband is asleep.
And I should be asleep.
And I'm reading my book.
And my son comes into the room, awake from a bad dream or my daughter cries out for who knows what or why...
And sometimes I am exasperated.
But, tonight I'm not.
Tonight my son has hives for no apparent reason and my daughter woke up crying because she was thirsty.
I'm into my book and I'm so so tired.
But, exasperated is not how I feel.
Instead I am equal parts homesick & grateful. 

Thursday, January 28, 2016

This still happens sometimes

  •  Yesterday was a super shitty day & I had one too many "I just want my mom" moments. 

    Luckily, she's never far from me and it's pretty easy to conjure her (metaphorical) spirit. When you watch somebody you love die, it's impossible to unsee those last moments. It was really hard to see my beautiful, youthful mom literally crumble, unravel, and...die. 

    Physically, it's quite jarring and kinda scary and ugly. It's hard to unsee it, but I also have 39 years full...bursting-at-the-seams-full, of images like these (the ones above; dancing on NYE Mom, Snowshoeing Mom, Dressed for her grandson's birthday party Mom, chillin on the beach Cool Mom...and so many, many many more, thank god).

    If you knew my mom, I bet you can still hear her laugh...I bet you can still picture her grooving to her favorite songs...I bet you can envision her face light up when you enter the room. 

    Because if you knew Mare, I bet you were one of her favorite people. Her heart was big enough for everyone...and then some. 

    See? Wherever she is, she is still finding ways to pick me up when I'm down. 

    Love you, mom. xo

    Thank you, mom.
    I'm quite sure she is the one who made me pay really close attention to all the normal, everyday stuff so that someday I would be able to enjoy this gift and never be longing or searching for memories.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

And a happy new year...

Spent New Years Eve in Ocean City (on the short list of my happy places) with my dad, his gal, my family, and my bestie & her crew. 
We ate delicious food, listened (and of course danced) to good tunes, played Heads Up, drank Prosecco (cut mine with pomegranate juice, so as to increase my odds of making it to midnight), laughed, dodged wily toddlers, and basically made merry. 
As midnight struck, we popped a bottle of bubbly, kissed our respective beloveds, toasted to 2016, and wished BP a happy birthday.
At 12:01, Lindsay & I gleefully (drunkenly?) headed out for our first run of 2016. We dashed to the beach, paused for a shot of Cuervo, caught the last few fireworks, then hustled back to the house.
Upon thawing out, we all sang happy birthday to my dad & proceeded to demolish the delicious spice cake.
It was a lovely, low key evening (maybe we broke up a few toddler brawls, but that's nothing...the girls were content to jump on the bed and the boys commiserated about whatever preteen boys with endless common threads commiserate about).
I made it.
2016, let's be healthy first & foremost, okay? Health begets happiness, so let's strive for that.
2016, let's preserve some of our amazing memories. How about we take lots of pictures & print them out?
2016, let's get creative & make art. Let's hustle and sell some art.
2016, let's get our shit together. How about we replace that janky window that is about to fall out of the house? How about we try even harder not to live hand to mouth, paycheck-to-paycheck? Nobody needs that stress.
2016, let's keep running running running, but let's get on the bike, too. Even better, how about riding together?? (Me & my love)
2016, let's be great parents. Potty training sucks. Giving up the binky sucks. Nagging about homework & hygiene sucks. How about we try something else because the current situation is wearing us down (kids included)?
2016, let's chill the fuck out. How about we enjoy our blessings instead of counting them? You never know what tomorrow brings, let alone a whole year, so let's take it day by day. Okay?
Happy Happy Happy New Year! xo