Selfish Sucks

I need to blog.  I know I need to blog.  I'll just write and see where it goes.  That's what I always told my kids at school -- if you're not sure what to write, just start writing and see where it goes.  It's not like I have a clever (or not so clever, as it were) writing prompt to get me going.  A friend of mine has a blog, '"B" is for Blog' and does hers with a letter '"A" is for...', etc.  It's well done, but she did it first.  :-)

So, here I am.  It's been a rough couple of days.  I've been cranky, irritable, moody, you get the idea.  (Sorry, Andrew!!!)  If I had a thesaurus nearby, I'd have put down a few more.  (Yes, I'm online, but that would have involved opening another tab, and just not interested in going there right now.)  I hate when I can see myself being this way and don't feel like I have any recourse to stop it.  Ugh.  I'm watching from a distance, and that's all I can do.  Joy.  It's kind of like when "Crazy Carrie" was around when I was taking birth control pills -- not circumstances I like to recreate in the least.

I went to my first Grief Education Class & Support Group last week.  One of the things the leader mentioned was that when you're grieving, you are in a "self-concerned" place...the original wording they used was "selfish."  Boy, did that resonate with me...and I hate it.  I hate feeling so very selfish.  I hate it with a fiery passion, and yet, how do I get beyond it?  I know I must.  I don't like being here.  It's like being stuck in a snow bank, and I have no traction...and no kitty litter.  Must I just sit here spinning my wheels until it all thaws enough for me to get out?  I don't know.

So...there you have it -- here's what happens when I just write and see where it goes.  Sometimes it's not so pretty.

The Big Ride

We didn't get up early this morning.  No, my 4:15 trip to the bathroom definitely does not count because I endeavored to go back to sleep afterward.  We should have gotten up earlier than we did, however.  Today was Rachel's Big Ride -- 100 miles to Canadian to raise money for MS research.  She didn't plan to do the full 100 miles.  Her longest practice ride has been 25 miles.  She said she'd be happy to make it 40.

Anyway, we got up and got around (in a fashion) and FINALLY got in the car to head to one of the rest stops to cheer her on.  We went to Zachry's rest stop -- ZASH (fashioned after MASH, they had Klinger, the Chaplain, the whole crew -- loved it!) to meet her.  It's where she figured she'd stop, but no Rachel!  They said she had been through half an hour before and was doing great!  We went on past two more rest stops, then passed her riding with her riding buddy.  She was trucking along! 

It was another few miles to the next rest area, and we stopped to wait for her -- the 50 mile mark!!!  I was so proud of her!  She seemed surprised and excited to see us there, which was a nice feeling.  The kids just took it in stride, of course.  Will had gotten a breakfast burrito at the ZASH rest stop and was messily making his way through that, picking up the errant pieces off the ground and cramming them into his mouth.  Nasty!  Annabelle was trying to wiggle her way out of the stroller.  Naturally.

Anyway, we got Rachel & Stacey hydrated and revved up for the next leg.  Their plan was to go another 30 miles.  I'm looking forward to hearing how far they made it, and Rachel's over all take on the ride.  She did well.  I'm so proud of her!  Way to go, Rachel!!!

Now I'm off to Mommy duty, both munchkins are up from their naps.  I see nasty diapers in my near future.   :-)

Progress...

I started Jazzercise the beginning of March this year -- nearly five months ago.  The Lord had me get a postcard at a time that I knew I needed something that would MAKE me get out of the house and get me moving.  Mom died because an artery collapsed after a heart catheter procedure.  I knew that I was on the road to something similar if I didn't make a change.  I was beyond severely overweight, had a six month old and a two year old and had just lost my Mama -- depression and feelings of hopelessness were my constant companions.

So...I started Jazzercise.  It was a rocky start -- on my third visit I tripped over my own feet and landed smack on my booty in the middle of class.  Yikes.  My ankle, tailbone, and pride were rather bruised.  My tailbone still bothers me from time to time, but I kept going to class.  There were classes that I would cry through songs because they made me think of Mama or my loss.  Some days I had to make myself get up and go -- not always easy trying to get the two munchkins and myself ready.  Then, the Lord gave me another boost.  If I did childcare one class a week, I could get my Jazzercise for free.  FREE.  How very exciting!  I had signed up for 12 week program, Fit for Life, but didn't see how I would be able to continue after that.  What a blessing. 

Things were going well, and the beginning of May I started PT -- Personal Touch.  It's small group strength training.  Even with my discount for childcare, we couldn't afford for me to do it more than the minimum of eight weeks, so, sadly, I finished the end of June.  Fit for Life, though, ended the end of May -- with the end came the measuring -- I had lost about 15 pounds and 16 inches.  Wahoo!

Last Friday, the Lord provided a way, out of the blue, for me to pick back up with PT!  I've been back for three sessions this week, and it has felt marvelous!  I stepped on the scales this morning, and I've lost another five pounds.  Smiles all around!  It's been slow and steady, but I hear that's the way to go.  I've never tried it this way before, but I think I like it.  Lord willing, I'll be able to continue with Jazzercise and keep toning it up -- in a healthy and encouraging way!

6 months

Tomorrow will be six months since Mama went to heaven. Six months already - six months since I talked to my mother; six months since she hugged me; six months since I saw her smiling face. I love her so very much and miss her terribly. My thoughts go to all the things I don't get to do with her anymore, to all that she's missing with my kids; all that my kids are missing by not knowing her, by not being able to have her as Grandma - no Grandma & Annabelle tea parties, no spending time at Grandma & Pa's without Mom & Dad...so many things... and just the very basics of not knowing my mother. She was a great mom & the best Grandma ever.

I love you, Mama, and miss you so very much.

Apology

Dear Rachelle,

I must apologize, for I think that I have copied your design layout for my blog!  It's so lovely and bright, and it makes me smile.  Truly, I didn't realize that I had done it until some time after we both made the change.  Please accept my most humble apologies and remember, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery!

Your friend and most humble admirer,
Carrie

hee hee

Chaos

So...here I am -- it's 11:30 at night.  I should be sleeping, really.  Too many late nights and too few naps have led to confusion in my brain in the chaos that is our life.  The chaos, ah yes, there are definitely predictable times for the chaos -- when we get up, when I'm trying to leave with  both munchkins to head to Jazzercise (dang it!  5 minutes after I should have been pulling out of the driveway!  ), when the kids are having lunch and going down for naps, when they get up again, and when they are eating dinner and going down for the night.  Those are the predictable times for chaos.  (It's such that, when I invite my baby sister over, I give her the option of coming over for the chaos or coming at 7 when it's all said and done!)  Then, there are the unpredictable times for chaos like the times when

• Will has a meltdown because I let Annabelle play with one of "mys toys!" or he has to put down his toys to go into time out for whatever reason.
• Will is using his potty and Annabelle is trying to join him.
• Stitch can no longer handle the 45 hands all over him from the two children.  Where do the extra hands come from???
• Annabelle is content only when she is feeding me, or her daddy or the dog her snacks.  (Will hasn't been privileged with that one yet!)
• Will is running one way and Annabelle is doing her gollum crawl in the direct opposite, and Stitch is under my feet (literally!) because he must have more attention NOW.
• I'm trying to go to the bathroom, Will is punching buttons on the washer ("Buttons, Mommy!") and I'm trying to keep Annabelle from eating the dust bunny that has accumulated under the front of the vanity.   (Did I say "bunny?"  Forgive me, I meant "bunnIES!")
• my only pair of workout shorts fell in front of the washer when I was changing out laundry, and I didn't notice so they're wet, and I can't find the only pair of workout pants I have that are waaaay too big now (yeah!) in the masses of clean laundry in my room (at least it's clean!) and I MUST leave in the next 10 minutes.

...but we do it, and we make it, and in spite of it all (or, perhaps, because of it) my children are happy and growing and amazing, and I'm content with the boundaries of my life because the Lord has set them in pleasant places.  Is it hard?  DUH.  Do I cry as well as laugh?  yep.  Would I change it?  only the part where my mama's gone.  the rest is beyond beyond.  (nope, not a typo)  Really.

Words -- the post I was going to write

I was going to write about words...how they sound, how they feel in my mouth, the emotions and visualizations that they evoke bring me comfort and joy.  I found a book a few years ago, West with the Night, written by a woman who was a pilot in British East Africa in the 1930's.  Nobody writes like that anymore!  The "poetic prose" were so meaty and filled with imagery.  With her writing, I could see it...smell it....taste it...hear it.  It's so very beautiful it makes me ache when I chew it, for chew it I must.  There is too much to simply read.

Unfortunately, the post that I crafted in my mind in the twilight moments approaching sleep has departed with my dreams.  sigh.

I've always loved words and using a plethora of multisyllabic $64 phrases makes me smile.  I do remember, at the age of 14, turning words over and over in my mouth to get the full 360 degree feeling.  It was all well and good until I was helping my dad in his workshop on the back porch and he asked me for a screw. 
"Screw...screw...screw." I repeated.  "I like how the word feels in my mouth."
My dad's response, "You probably shouldn't say that."
My naivete -- I had no idea that what I was saying was more than a simple tool.  hee hee

Words.  aahhh, how I love them.