The school year is winding up fast. Today was pretty much the last day for David. He brought home his backpack filled with most of his school stuff. Tomorrow he has his class picnic. Friday he'll have Mass and then be done about 10:00 a.m.
So the end of May is the end of school. While I usually look forward to the end of school (so I can catch my breath), I'm a little sad right now thinking about it. The next time school starts, David will be a sixth grader. Middle school! A new uniform designating his new level. And Mackenzie will no longer be in preschool, she will start Kindergarten. She's had her uniform for a couple of months and plays dress up. And while she'll still be away only half the day, it will be every day from now on (she's only been going four days to preschool). My kids are getting older. And while I am at school almost every day, they are learning new things I can't teach them and meeting new people I don't know. It's the beginning of them moving on.
(Mom sitting in corner sobbing)
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Packing boxes
We spent the better part of the weekend packing up the office and kitchen for the impending remodel. Two small rooms sure can accumulate a lot. I tossed out so much stuff and there was still so many boxes; thank goodness Keith decided to rent a storage unit to house most of our stuff for two months.
Ever see the episode of "I Love Lucy" where the Ricardos are getting ready to move out to their house in the country? They have a two or three day delay between the time they need to be out of their apartment and the day they can actually take posession of their house. The Mertzes let them move in to their apartment for three days, along with their boxes of stuff. Four adults and little Ricky, in small tenement apartment, with boxes piled floor to ceiling, save a small walkway from the kitchen to the front door and a small sitting area. And of course, they're all trying to use the walkway at the same time.
I have to admit I was feeling like the Mertzes. Between all the cabinets wrapped in heavy kraft paper out in the garage, and all the boxes we were moving out of the kitchen and office, it seemed like we had no room for any of us. Goodwill will definitely be hearing from us!
Ever see the episode of "I Love Lucy" where the Ricardos are getting ready to move out to their house in the country? They have a two or three day delay between the time they need to be out of their apartment and the day they can actually take posession of their house. The Mertzes let them move in to their apartment for three days, along with their boxes of stuff. Four adults and little Ricky, in small tenement apartment, with boxes piled floor to ceiling, save a small walkway from the kitchen to the front door and a small sitting area. And of course, they're all trying to use the walkway at the same time.
I have to admit I was feeling like the Mertzes. Between all the cabinets wrapped in heavy kraft paper out in the garage, and all the boxes we were moving out of the kitchen and office, it seemed like we had no room for any of us. Goodwill will definitely be hearing from us!
Friday, May 26, 2006
Give me a beach!
The next couple of weeks are going to be really busy for the family. Not only do we have the last two weeks of school (last day -- June 2) and the last school events of the year (of which I will need to be available for some of them, it's the whole HSA thing), Mackenzie has a spring concert at her school tomorrow, and she will still have gymnastics and swimming, David is trying to salvage that 32% or he can kiss summer camp goodbye (stay tuned to June 2nd) while keeping the rest of his grades up, we need to pack for our upcoming vacation and we have to completely empty out our kitchen and office due to the impending major kitchen remodel BEFORE we leave on vacation June 3rd because we get back June 11th and they will begin to gut the kitchen June 12th.
(Deep breathing begins now)
Check out the Cabo San Lucas BeachCam here http://www.allaboutcabo.com/
(Deep breathing begins now)
Check out the Cabo San Lucas BeachCam here http://www.allaboutcabo.com/
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Saturday Morning, Day 4
Last night we had one heck of a thunderstorm. Things were flying in the patio, the rain was belting the house, the lightning lit up the entire city.
It rained most of the night. My run (OK, it's a walk, but it's easier to say run) was scheduled for 7:04 a.m., which meant I needed to be up at 6:00 a.m. Keith asked if I was going to run in the rain. I said if others were, then I would, too. But I wouldn't know until I got to the park.
Well, it was about the half the crowd I expected. But they were ready to run. And it had stopped raining, still cool, but no rain, so there was no reason not to go.
The Boise Greenbelt was a mess, especially the first stretch from Shoreline Park down to 9th Street. Lots of downed branches, some really big ones, and some minor flooding. I decided to walk the entire six miles today, not a casual stroll, but my goal was to keep a consistent pace. Walking the entire way gave me a 15:20 pace per mile. Not bad, considering that I didn't feel tired after it was over, and some of the pains weren't nearly as bad as when I was trying to run half.
After the run, the seminar was on Jeff Galloway's Run/Walk method of training and running marathons. The simplest way to describe this method is this: By incorporating a "walk break" into your run, you give your running muscles a chance to catch their breath, and in turn, the running muscles last longer, allowing you to complete the race. For me, I'd start with a "run break". But it has to be done over time, so that you can figure out what your personal optimal run/walk times are; for example, the coach who discussed this with us said her best time is a 7-1 pace, seven minutes of running and one of walking. She has a watch that has interval timing on it, she sets the alarm to go off in seven minutes, then again in another one minute, then again in another seven minutes, and then another one minute, and so on. No keeping track of miles in your head, just listen for the beep.
I will recommend Jeff Galloway's book Marathon, it explains the run/walk method in greater detail, and gives training schedules based on what you're trying to achieve.
It rained most of the night. My run (OK, it's a walk, but it's easier to say run) was scheduled for 7:04 a.m., which meant I needed to be up at 6:00 a.m. Keith asked if I was going to run in the rain. I said if others were, then I would, too. But I wouldn't know until I got to the park.
Well, it was about the half the crowd I expected. But they were ready to run. And it had stopped raining, still cool, but no rain, so there was no reason not to go.
The Boise Greenbelt was a mess, especially the first stretch from Shoreline Park down to 9th Street. Lots of downed branches, some really big ones, and some minor flooding. I decided to walk the entire six miles today, not a casual stroll, but my goal was to keep a consistent pace. Walking the entire way gave me a 15:20 pace per mile. Not bad, considering that I didn't feel tired after it was over, and some of the pains weren't nearly as bad as when I was trying to run half.
After the run, the seminar was on Jeff Galloway's Run/Walk method of training and running marathons. The simplest way to describe this method is this: By incorporating a "walk break" into your run, you give your running muscles a chance to catch their breath, and in turn, the running muscles last longer, allowing you to complete the race. For me, I'd start with a "run break". But it has to be done over time, so that you can figure out what your personal optimal run/walk times are; for example, the coach who discussed this with us said her best time is a 7-1 pace, seven minutes of running and one of walking. She has a watch that has interval timing on it, she sets the alarm to go off in seven minutes, then again in another one minute, then again in another seven minutes, and then another one minute, and so on. No keeping track of miles in your head, just listen for the beep.
I will recommend Jeff Galloway's book Marathon, it explains the run/walk method in greater detail, and gives training schedules based on what you're trying to achieve.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Imminent Chaos
I have an organizer. I can't go anywhere or commit to anything without it. Because if I do, I schedule twenty three things for myself, all within the same thirty minute period.
Next week isn't such a bad week. Now, the last week before school gets out, which is the week after next, that's going to be a bad week. That is the last week we're here before vacation, the last week of school -- that means end of year picnics, exams, etc. -- the last week to pack up my kitchen and office before the impending demolition of said rooms the day after we return from vacation, plus a dentist and orthodontist appointment, I'm not committing to anything else that week, other than that which I have already committed myself to.
Next week was going to be OK. My scheduled haircut, next Wednesday, although I could use it now. Lunch next Monday, after reading at school, with the HSA Board, should be lots of fun. Then we added Mrs. Oliveri's retirement party, next Thursday from 2:30-5:00 p.m. This morning I added a meeting at 1:30 p.m. next Wednesday at school about Community Service, and this was after I added the HSA ice cream giveaway next Wednesday at lunch. Yikes! Oh, and today I told Mackenzie's swim teacher that we could do lessons at 11:30 a.m. next week on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Now, I've just found out that my new kitchen cabinets will be here either next Wednesday or Thursday. And I have a meeting with our contractor and his subcontractors on Tuesday at 10:00 a.m. David will have his last lacrosse game Tuesday night and Mackenzie has gymnastics Wednesday night.
Have I mentioned that I have to pack two rooms in their entirety and I have about six boxes done? That I'm now scheduled to be in three places at the same time next Wednesday?
If only this running around resulted in easy weight loss!
Next week isn't such a bad week. Now, the last week before school gets out, which is the week after next, that's going to be a bad week. That is the last week we're here before vacation, the last week of school -- that means end of year picnics, exams, etc. -- the last week to pack up my kitchen and office before the impending demolition of said rooms the day after we return from vacation, plus a dentist and orthodontist appointment, I'm not committing to anything else that week, other than that which I have already committed myself to.
Next week was going to be OK. My scheduled haircut, next Wednesday, although I could use it now. Lunch next Monday, after reading at school, with the HSA Board, should be lots of fun. Then we added Mrs. Oliveri's retirement party, next Thursday from 2:30-5:00 p.m. This morning I added a meeting at 1:30 p.m. next Wednesday at school about Community Service, and this was after I added the HSA ice cream giveaway next Wednesday at lunch. Yikes! Oh, and today I told Mackenzie's swim teacher that we could do lessons at 11:30 a.m. next week on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Now, I've just found out that my new kitchen cabinets will be here either next Wednesday or Thursday. And I have a meeting with our contractor and his subcontractors on Tuesday at 10:00 a.m. David will have his last lacrosse game Tuesday night and Mackenzie has gymnastics Wednesday night.
Have I mentioned that I have to pack two rooms in their entirety and I have about six boxes done? That I'm now scheduled to be in three places at the same time next Wednesday?
If only this running around resulted in easy weight loss!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Happy Mother's Day
A quick post to wish all Mothers everywhere a joyous day.
This came to me via an email from a friend. Even though my kids are still far away from the daughter in this story, the mother's thoughts describe me perfectly, and many of the other great Moms I know.
Being A Mom
We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.
I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her! That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
This came to me via an email from a friend. Even though my kids are still far away from the daughter in this story, the mother's thoughts describe me perfectly, and many of the other great Moms I know.
Being A Mom
We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.
I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her! That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Saturday Morning, Day 3
David and I went to Shoreline Park this morning. We were there by 7:07 a.m. He was thrilled.
Not a big crowd. Today was the first day where we broke off into our color groups. We are the slow ones, so we start first, because the fast ones will catch up and pass us if we let them. The goal was to have all groups finish by 9:00 a.m, then that leads into seminars, coaching advice, etc, and we're out of there by 10:00 a.m.
So our start time was 7:22 a.m. Off we went, and this time, David didn't humor me. Within five minutes he was gone, and out ahead of me somewhere; with the bends in the Greenbelt's path, there were times I couldn't see him. Then the Mom mind goes into overdrive:
He wasn't with me last week, maybe he didn't understand the directions I gave him for the two forks in the road. What if he goes off the wrong way, and I'm so far behind I don't see him when he veers off, so I don't know that he's lost/missing/presumed dead until it's too late? What if starts talking to someone who he thinks is in the group, but really isn't in the group and just looking for someone to apprehend/maim/kill, but pretending to be in the group so they can accost 11 year olds who think they know everything, but like most 11 year olds know nothing? What if he decided to stop to get a good look at the so-close-to-flood-stage Boise River, and got so close he fell in and is now freezing in that river which is made up of rapidly melting snow? Oh wait, there he is.
He finished a full ten minutes ahead of me. So while I'm still at a solid 15:00 per mile, he's more around 13:00. THAT'S WHERE I NEED TO BE! He ran with a couple of the coaches for our time group for awhile, and then hooked up with a guy named Chip (who is in our run group). Both of them said that they were good for each other because they kept motivating the other to give it all they had. Well, that's just great.
Not a big crowd. Today was the first day where we broke off into our color groups. We are the slow ones, so we start first, because the fast ones will catch up and pass us if we let them. The goal was to have all groups finish by 9:00 a.m, then that leads into seminars, coaching advice, etc, and we're out of there by 10:00 a.m.
So our start time was 7:22 a.m. Off we went, and this time, David didn't humor me. Within five minutes he was gone, and out ahead of me somewhere; with the bends in the Greenbelt's path, there were times I couldn't see him. Then the Mom mind goes into overdrive:
He wasn't with me last week, maybe he didn't understand the directions I gave him for the two forks in the road. What if he goes off the wrong way, and I'm so far behind I don't see him when he veers off, so I don't know that he's lost/missing/presumed dead until it's too late? What if starts talking to someone who he thinks is in the group, but really isn't in the group and just looking for someone to apprehend/maim/kill, but pretending to be in the group so they can accost 11 year olds who think they know everything, but like most 11 year olds know nothing? What if he decided to stop to get a good look at the so-close-to-flood-stage Boise River, and got so close he fell in and is now freezing in that river which is made up of rapidly melting snow? Oh wait, there he is.
He finished a full ten minutes ahead of me. So while I'm still at a solid 15:00 per mile, he's more around 13:00. THAT'S WHERE I NEED TO BE! He ran with a couple of the coaches for our time group for awhile, and then hooked up with a guy named Chip (who is in our run group). Both of them said that they were good for each other because they kept motivating the other to give it all they had. Well, that's just great.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Slow week
With Mother's Day coming, it seemed appropriate to talk about my "slow" week.
All Moms have "slow" weeks. Those are the weeks where you actually have time to eat lunch, albeit in your car. These can not be confused with what we call in my family, the Ain't-Got-Time weeks (obscure reference point, it comes from a Bugs Bunny cartoon with Little Red Riding Hood; the Wolf gets behind in his timetable and has to play catch up, he gets to Grandma's house and kicks her out instead of eating her. Whe she asks him, "Hey Wolf, aren't you going to eat me?", he answers her while packing her suitcase "Ain't got time, Grandma, ain't got time!" and then throws her out of her house with the suitcase behind her. I know, more information than you needed to know -- we're BIG Looney Tunes fans in this house! That reminds me of a Seinfeld episode...)
This week has been a slow week. No meetings of any kind, any where. One child extra-curricular event -- lacrosse -- and the one practice that went along with that on a different night. One school activity, reading with the 5th graders on Monday morning (I time them with specific readings at their level; they then answer questions to test retention and understanding, and that is followed by a retimed reading to see if they improve.) Now I had David all week because his dad is out of town, so there were more morning and afternoon school runs, but those were just drop offs and pick ups. Mackenzie caught a cold, which turned ugly Tuesday morning. So she had no school from Tuesday on, no swimming lessons, no gymnastics, and since she was feeling bad, especially the first two days, we didn't really go anywhere. It gave me a chance to start packing up some stuff for the impending kitchen major remodel, but sometimes I just hung with my baby and watched cartoons.
The phone didn't ring all that much. The emails have slowed down. The major HSA fundraisers are over, now it's just preparing things for the handoff. Oh, I have meetings next week and will continue to have them into June (the fiscal year is July 1-June 30, so I'm the President until June 30) and there are some chair positions for next year that still need to be filled, but life is some ways is starting to slow down.
My Mom hates it when I call her from the road, which I do quite often, and then have to end my conversations with 'Gotta go, I'm at school-the game-the dentist's office-here to pick Mackenzie up-the pharmacy-the orthodontist's office-the Scout meeting, I'll talk to you later'. This week, both of my long conversations were from home, and without interruptions. You know she called me out on that. "I'm glad to see you're not running around like crazy." I don't know how to do anything else, this works for me.
When I worked full time, I could schedule visits to the dentist, the optometrist, pick up prescriptions, plan birthday parties, get my nails done, have the laundry clean and folded (and put away 80% of the time), and it was just little David (he was 4/5) and me in my little townhouse, but he went to preschool, and had playdates, and made the family loop between me and his dad, and I was OK. The first six months here, I've written about how I was no longer working, David would be with his dad in California, and I couldn't get dinner on the table by five. It drove me crazy, but I couldn't figure out how I was more organized when I was busier. Now I know. The secret is simply this -- once the forward motion starts, it's easier to keep going than having to start from a dead stop. When I stop and sit, I'm done.
That's why I blog often at the end of my day. To sit here in the morning would mean I would get nothing accomplished.
Thank goodness the L.A. Marathon is in the early morning!
All Moms have "slow" weeks. Those are the weeks where you actually have time to eat lunch, albeit in your car. These can not be confused with what we call in my family, the Ain't-Got-Time weeks (obscure reference point, it comes from a Bugs Bunny cartoon with Little Red Riding Hood; the Wolf gets behind in his timetable and has to play catch up, he gets to Grandma's house and kicks her out instead of eating her. Whe she asks him, "Hey Wolf, aren't you going to eat me?", he answers her while packing her suitcase "Ain't got time, Grandma, ain't got time!" and then throws her out of her house with the suitcase behind her. I know, more information than you needed to know -- we're BIG Looney Tunes fans in this house! That reminds me of a Seinfeld episode...)
This week has been a slow week. No meetings of any kind, any where. One child extra-curricular event -- lacrosse -- and the one practice that went along with that on a different night. One school activity, reading with the 5th graders on Monday morning (I time them with specific readings at their level; they then answer questions to test retention and understanding, and that is followed by a retimed reading to see if they improve.) Now I had David all week because his dad is out of town, so there were more morning and afternoon school runs, but those were just drop offs and pick ups. Mackenzie caught a cold, which turned ugly Tuesday morning. So she had no school from Tuesday on, no swimming lessons, no gymnastics, and since she was feeling bad, especially the first two days, we didn't really go anywhere. It gave me a chance to start packing up some stuff for the impending kitchen major remodel, but sometimes I just hung with my baby and watched cartoons.
The phone didn't ring all that much. The emails have slowed down. The major HSA fundraisers are over, now it's just preparing things for the handoff. Oh, I have meetings next week and will continue to have them into June (the fiscal year is July 1-June 30, so I'm the President until June 30) and there are some chair positions for next year that still need to be filled, but life is some ways is starting to slow down.
My Mom hates it when I call her from the road, which I do quite often, and then have to end my conversations with 'Gotta go, I'm at school-the game-the dentist's office-here to pick Mackenzie up-the pharmacy-the orthodontist's office-the Scout meeting, I'll talk to you later'. This week, both of my long conversations were from home, and without interruptions. You know she called me out on that. "I'm glad to see you're not running around like crazy." I don't know how to do anything else, this works for me.
When I worked full time, I could schedule visits to the dentist, the optometrist, pick up prescriptions, plan birthday parties, get my nails done, have the laundry clean and folded (and put away 80% of the time), and it was just little David (he was 4/5) and me in my little townhouse, but he went to preschool, and had playdates, and made the family loop between me and his dad, and I was OK. The first six months here, I've written about how I was no longer working, David would be with his dad in California, and I couldn't get dinner on the table by five. It drove me crazy, but I couldn't figure out how I was more organized when I was busier. Now I know. The secret is simply this -- once the forward motion starts, it's easier to keep going than having to start from a dead stop. When I stop and sit, I'm done.
That's why I blog often at the end of my day. To sit here in the morning would mean I would get nothing accomplished.
Thank goodness the L.A. Marathon is in the early morning!
Monday, May 08, 2006
Committed
While some might think I have finally gone off the deep end given the title of today's entry, let me assure all that I am still here persuing the 2,879 different tasks I must accomplish before our vacation just under a month away.
The title refers to the fact that just a bit ago, I logged on to the L.A. Marathon webpage, found that I could register myself for next year's Marathon, and immediately did so. As of 11:34 a.m., I have financially committed myself (to the tune of $85) to run in the 2007 L.A. Marathon.
Why would I do so? Have I been so impressed with my stellar 15:00 per mile pace over the last two weeks that I know I'm giving the Kenyans and Russians a run for their money? Hardly. It's actually due to something I do almost each and every day.
Ask my kids what my two favorite words in the entire world are and they will answer Sale and Clearance. I know where all the clearance end caps are at Target. I get positively giddy if I can find an item at a ridiculous price and then match a high value coupon with it. I will leave an item if I feel the price is extreme. While our families' financial position is in good shape (something I am grateful for each and every day), I will not spend one penny more than I have to on anything; why should I? I'd rather take that money and put it in the kids' college funds, blow it on a supreme vacation we'll always remember, use it to have a dinner date with Keith, anything other than give it to manufacturers who are convinced we can't live without their stuff. But I digress.
Paying for the Marathon now feeds into the I-hate-to-waste-money syndrome I have. Imagine what I could do with $85! Not to mention the fess associated with BRW (a value at $120, in my opinion!), some appropriate running attire and proper shoes. I've blown a fortune into the psychotic idea that I can finish a marathon at 40. That alone is enough for me to keep going and something to remember on the days I don't want to go to the gym and don't want to get out of bed at 5:15 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
So I'll be there, March 4, 2007, somewhere on 5th and Figueroa around 8:00 a.m. I'm calling it the start of the largest 40th birthday party in the history of me -- 25,000+ people will be there with me.
The title refers to the fact that just a bit ago, I logged on to the L.A. Marathon webpage, found that I could register myself for next year's Marathon, and immediately did so. As of 11:34 a.m., I have financially committed myself (to the tune of $85) to run in the 2007 L.A. Marathon.
Why would I do so? Have I been so impressed with my stellar 15:00 per mile pace over the last two weeks that I know I'm giving the Kenyans and Russians a run for their money? Hardly. It's actually due to something I do almost each and every day.
Ask my kids what my two favorite words in the entire world are and they will answer Sale and Clearance. I know where all the clearance end caps are at Target. I get positively giddy if I can find an item at a ridiculous price and then match a high value coupon with it. I will leave an item if I feel the price is extreme. While our families' financial position is in good shape (something I am grateful for each and every day), I will not spend one penny more than I have to on anything; why should I? I'd rather take that money and put it in the kids' college funds, blow it on a supreme vacation we'll always remember, use it to have a dinner date with Keith, anything other than give it to manufacturers who are convinced we can't live without their stuff. But I digress.
Paying for the Marathon now feeds into the I-hate-to-waste-money syndrome I have. Imagine what I could do with $85! Not to mention the fess associated with BRW (a value at $120, in my opinion!), some appropriate running attire and proper shoes. I've blown a fortune into the psychotic idea that I can finish a marathon at 40. That alone is enough for me to keep going and something to remember on the days I don't want to go to the gym and don't want to get out of bed at 5:15 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
So I'll be there, March 4, 2007, somewhere on 5th and Figueroa around 8:00 a.m. I'm calling it the start of the largest 40th birthday party in the history of me -- 25,000+ people will be there with me.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Saturday Morning, Day 2
No David today, he's at his dad's this weekend. So I went to Shoreline Park by myself, hoping to do four miles today as per the schedule.
This week was pretty similar to last week. Introduction of coaches, talk about the path for today, some how-to, a lot of reminders about being injury free and not worrying about speed, and then we were off. Left exactly at 9:00 a.m. Did four miles, mostly walking but some running, and I was back at exactly 10:00 a.m. So after two weeks, I'm averaging a solid 15:00 minute mile pace. That's no good. The L.A. Marathon webpage says that streets along the route reopen at the 13:00 minute mile mark; if it takes you longer than that, you are to be prepared to use the sidewalks and follow the traffic laws (meaning you will have to stop at red lights) to finish the marathon. See link here: http://www.lamarathon.com/streetclosures.php
Now, I know it's only my second week, and the second orientation week at that. And while I'm not expecting to finish first, second, or 2,847th, I do want only to finish the marathon and finish it without having to stop at red lights the last ten miles. Thirteen minute miles or less, therefore are now my goal.
There are five color groups at BRW, each one a different pace group. I didn't expect to be in the slowest group (Purple 18:30 and greater per mile), but I'm bringing up the rear in the second to slowest group (Blue 13:00 to 15:45 per mile). I don't know why there is no 15:45 to 18:30 group, that will be a question I have to ask next week if I remember. I'm going to work toward getting in the next pace group (Red 10:30 to 13:00 per mile). We won't even mention the other two, I'm not looking to get into those groups this year. If I continue with this for an extended period of time, then of course, there would be goals of improving my time, but we're going to take baby steps for now.
Next week begins the individual pace group runs. The slowest group starts first with the fastest group last, trying to get everyone done by the same time. They are going to combine the Purple and Blue groups for the next couple of weeks to see where most of those runners are; most people in those color groups are new to BRW and they want to make sure they are where they are supposed to be. An early 7:22 start time for me next week, and we're supposed to be there fifteen minutes before the run. Won't David (with me next week) be excited when he hears we have to be at Shoreline Park at 7:07 a.m.?
This week was pretty similar to last week. Introduction of coaches, talk about the path for today, some how-to, a lot of reminders about being injury free and not worrying about speed, and then we were off. Left exactly at 9:00 a.m. Did four miles, mostly walking but some running, and I was back at exactly 10:00 a.m. So after two weeks, I'm averaging a solid 15:00 minute mile pace. That's no good. The L.A. Marathon webpage says that streets along the route reopen at the 13:00 minute mile mark; if it takes you longer than that, you are to be prepared to use the sidewalks and follow the traffic laws (meaning you will have to stop at red lights) to finish the marathon. See link here: http://www.lamarathon.com/streetclosures.php
Now, I know it's only my second week, and the second orientation week at that. And while I'm not expecting to finish first, second, or 2,847th, I do want only to finish the marathon and finish it without having to stop at red lights the last ten miles. Thirteen minute miles or less, therefore are now my goal.
There are five color groups at BRW, each one a different pace group. I didn't expect to be in the slowest group (Purple 18:30 and greater per mile), but I'm bringing up the rear in the second to slowest group (Blue 13:00 to 15:45 per mile). I don't know why there is no 15:45 to 18:30 group, that will be a question I have to ask next week if I remember. I'm going to work toward getting in the next pace group (Red 10:30 to 13:00 per mile). We won't even mention the other two, I'm not looking to get into those groups this year. If I continue with this for an extended period of time, then of course, there would be goals of improving my time, but we're going to take baby steps for now.
Next week begins the individual pace group runs. The slowest group starts first with the fastest group last, trying to get everyone done by the same time. They are going to combine the Purple and Blue groups for the next couple of weeks to see where most of those runners are; most people in those color groups are new to BRW and they want to make sure they are where they are supposed to be. An early 7:22 start time for me next week, and we're supposed to be there fifteen minutes before the run. Won't David (with me next week) be excited when he hears we have to be at Shoreline Park at 7:07 a.m.?
Friday, May 05, 2006
Culture shock
Warning: There are no rants about immigration policies in the US and Mexico in the story below. I am saving myself for the day I can talk about it calmly.
Today is Cinco de Mayo, the American celebration of Mexico's Independence Day.
(That is what most people in the United States believe it is. I'll see you in September.)
I truly believe most people celebrate Cinco de Mayo because they can say it. Sin-ko de May-o. That's much easier than Dee-es-see-say-s de Se-pt-ee-yem-bray (16th of September, the actual Mexican Independence Day).
Now, as a United States citizen (easy Lorena, no rants) of full Mexican heritage and background, I know what Cinco de Mayo is and have partied with friends when that was an important thing to do. That is very easy to do when you live in Southern California. While not so hard to do in Idaho, my heritage isn't in my face here like it is in SoCal. I miss that. But most of all, I feel I'm doing a disservice to my kids.
I grew up knowing my great-grandmother well, her 14 kids, their assorted families and so on down the line. That was just one branch! My generation and my Mom's spoke both English and Spanish; past her, it was hit and miss, my grandfather spoke great English, my grandmother's was understandable to most but very heavily accented. Both languages were spoken freely, the food was common -- arroz, frijoles, tortillas, queso blanco, patas de puerco en chile -- the mariachi music was intermixed with English standards and Top 40, men wore t-shirts or guayaberas, the older women would talk of tejidos, and I lived both cultures at the same time.
David had my grandmother to watch him for the first three years of his life. He spoke Spanish, danced to banda music and asked for caldito or sopita, at lunch time.
In Idaho, away from the extended family and the frequent family gatherings, David has lost the heritage he had. Mackenzie has never known it. And it's not because I don't cook Mexican food, listen to music or watch TV in Spanish, have no Mexican items around the house, or don't speak Spanish at home. It's because I, as a mother and as a person of Mexican descent, have failed to instill in them that heritage.
Today, Mackenzie had a Cinco de Mayo party at school. She wore a dress my Mom had purchased for her and a red embroidered vest that had mine as a child. She proudly told everyone that she was half-Mexican, and I cringed every time I heard her say it. Not because she is half-Mexican (Keith has a few different heritages in his family, but none of them is Mexican) but because she seemed so gringa. There's absolutely no accent in the few Spanish words she knows, mostly food related, but some numbers and colors as well. (Thank you Dora the Explorer.) Her coloring, like mine, offers no hint at the Hispanic background she has. David likes some of my Mexican music and tries to learn the words; she has no desire to even listen to it (UGH!)
I'm hoping that our trip to Mexico this summer changes some of that for her. Both of them will be in Spanish camp for two weeks this summer, learning the language. I can add more music, more culture to our lives, but in between school, sports, friends, homework, pets, church, chores, and extremely few chances to practice what they've learned (David's dad doesn't speak Spanish either), I'm afraid it will all be for naught. I can't believe I'm having such a hard time passing on what is a big part of me to my kids. Have I lost something more than I thought?
Today is Cinco de Mayo, the American celebration of Mexico's Independence Day.
(That is what most people in the United States believe it is. I'll see you in September.)
I truly believe most people celebrate Cinco de Mayo because they can say it. Sin-ko de May-o. That's much easier than Dee-es-see-say-s de Se-pt-ee-yem-bray (16th of September, the actual Mexican Independence Day).
Now, as a United States citizen (easy Lorena, no rants) of full Mexican heritage and background, I know what Cinco de Mayo is and have partied with friends when that was an important thing to do. That is very easy to do when you live in Southern California. While not so hard to do in Idaho, my heritage isn't in my face here like it is in SoCal. I miss that. But most of all, I feel I'm doing a disservice to my kids.
I grew up knowing my great-grandmother well, her 14 kids, their assorted families and so on down the line. That was just one branch! My generation and my Mom's spoke both English and Spanish; past her, it was hit and miss, my grandfather spoke great English, my grandmother's was understandable to most but very heavily accented. Both languages were spoken freely, the food was common -- arroz, frijoles, tortillas, queso blanco, patas de puerco en chile -- the mariachi music was intermixed with English standards and Top 40, men wore t-shirts or guayaberas, the older women would talk of tejidos, and I lived both cultures at the same time.
David had my grandmother to watch him for the first three years of his life. He spoke Spanish, danced to banda music and asked for caldito or sopita, at lunch time.
In Idaho, away from the extended family and the frequent family gatherings, David has lost the heritage he had. Mackenzie has never known it. And it's not because I don't cook Mexican food, listen to music or watch TV in Spanish, have no Mexican items around the house, or don't speak Spanish at home. It's because I, as a mother and as a person of Mexican descent, have failed to instill in them that heritage.
Today, Mackenzie had a Cinco de Mayo party at school. She wore a dress my Mom had purchased for her and a red embroidered vest that had mine as a child. She proudly told everyone that she was half-Mexican, and I cringed every time I heard her say it. Not because she is half-Mexican (Keith has a few different heritages in his family, but none of them is Mexican) but because she seemed so gringa. There's absolutely no accent in the few Spanish words she knows, mostly food related, but some numbers and colors as well. (Thank you Dora the Explorer.) Her coloring, like mine, offers no hint at the Hispanic background she has. David likes some of my Mexican music and tries to learn the words; she has no desire to even listen to it (UGH!)
I'm hoping that our trip to Mexico this summer changes some of that for her. Both of them will be in Spanish camp for two weeks this summer, learning the language. I can add more music, more culture to our lives, but in between school, sports, friends, homework, pets, church, chores, and extremely few chances to practice what they've learned (David's dad doesn't speak Spanish either), I'm afraid it will all be for naught. I can't believe I'm having such a hard time passing on what is a big part of me to my kids. Have I lost something more than I thought?
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Chickens, cowards, and being yellow
We recently had a fundraiser at school, the Spring Concert. It was our third year having it. Most people love the concert and the kids enjoy performing for their parents.
The first one was at the Idaho Shakespeare Festival Amphitheatre. It's a beautiful outdoor venue, people take picnic dinners when they go to see a show or you can purchase box dinners, as well as wine and beer, at the restaurant there. May can still be in the tricky weather department, and it was for us that year. Dress rehearsal the day of the event was done in the rain, we had tarps on the risers, but somehow, at 5:00 p.m., the skies parted and it was a lovely, lovely evening. We paid a modest fee for use of the facility (somewhere between 50 cents and a dollar) and made almost $10K that night.
The next year the modest fee was going up (way up!), so we moved the concert to the Bishop Kelly HS gym. Inside, there were no rain worries on the stage, and we took over the food concessions using the BKHS cafeteria, located conveniently next to the gym. Serving mostly desserts, with wine and beer for the adults, and some small foodstuffs, it was still a wonderful evening.
This year, I volunteered to help with the tables, seven premiere tables, best seats in the house type of thing, that we sell to the highest bidders (it is a fundraiser). It has been one of my favorite events since it started (I've been on the committee since the beginning), but I was feeling a bit strapped, so I decided to help on something I knew I wouldn't need to answer for until the day of the event. Until we discovered our chair, (insert long story here) had done nothing with two weeks to go before the event. YIKES! Another Mom and I split the duties and took over. We got everything in line, and then the first email arrived.
Signed by "Candace Bell" from a mystery yahoo.com address, it was an ugly email. Sent to the principal, with a long drawn out story about their concern for the serving of alcohol at a school event where children were going to be, she threatened both to bring the local chapter of MADD down to the school and also to write an editorial for the newspaper regarding our "fundraising tactics". She didn't want to threaten the principal, but felt strongly about this.
Now, unless you get the idea that I am less than a concerned parent where alcohol is involved, let me state a few things. Since the first concert at ISFA, the alcohol situation has been discussed and debated among the parents who were on the planning committee. Each year, every aspect of that concert has been discussed by a group of parents willing to commit a little time to the organization, planning and execution of the show. It was felt that the alcohol, with appropriate measures taken, would not be a deterrent to the show. Besides that fact, many parents felt that parents make these choices on a daily basis with their families. A concert, a sporting event, a dinner out, parents have to reconcile their choices with their family. Every parent I know at the school, and I know most of them, is a responsible adult capable of making good decisions. None of them are coming to a school function looking to get plastered.
Needless to say, I was upset, bordering on livid. Not because of the alcohol. I could care less. I seldom drink in front of my kids, that's my personal choice. However, the fact that someone who hadn't been to any of the advertised Spring Concert meetings thought they could circumvent the planning process, impose their own ideas or agenda on a group of parents who worked hard to have a successful event, and get away with it was too much for me. Let's face facts here. Someone who resorts to deception to get their way (more on that in a minute) isn't worth the time of day in my book. Caution, yes, for the sake of the school, but I don't tend to cower to threats and intimidation, just not in my nature.
Candace Bell. Name did not sound familiar to me, and as HSA President, I'm familiar with all of them. I went down my master list of families. No family with the last name of Bell. No mom with the first name of Candace. Odd. Double checked. Nothing. Weird. I went down to school (almost time for pick up anyways) and found the secretary going through the emergency card box and registration forms (where mother's maiden name is listed). OMG! Did she not have better things to do with her time than figure out mystery people sending threatening emails to school? A talk with those who knew what was going on, and among all of us, we decided to proceed as planned. Six days before the concert and we were still on track with all agreed plans and commitments.
Then the next problem, now 36 hours before the show. The President of BK called the school and was extremely upset about the alcohol. He said he didn't know anything about the alcohol being served and that it wasn't allowed. Never mind that we had (been allowed the previous year) served it before. I don't know the President of BK, but I have heard of him and his reputation as a tough but firm kind of guy. He wasn't someone I wanted to cross paths with, what with my 5th grader three years away from attending his school, but mostly because of the relationship St. Joe's enjoys with BK. On a variety of different levels, from academically to the arts to sports, there is a camaraderie enjoyed by both schools that I would not want to jeopardize. He told the Mom parent on our committee that he ran into, that he understood that with 36 hours before the show, it might not be possible for us to get out of our contract with the restaurant handling the food and alcohol, but in the future... That's where the Mom on the committee stopped him and told him we would cancel the alcohol. For reasons similar to what I wrote above. (See, many parents thinking the same way.)
It was what absolutely had to be done. No question. But I knew, that somewhere on yahoo.com, someone was going to think they had bullied us into surrendering, and that was not the case. Sure enough, a few days after the show, another mystery email appeared. And if you can believe this, while extremely brief, it made me even more upset than the first email.
Paraphrasing here: From the 11 St. Joe's Mom's who make up "Candace Bell", thank you for not serving alcohol at the Spring Concert.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Huh?
Over the last two years, as HSA President, it has been a priority for me to inform parents about decisions we (the HSA) make and how they can help, how it affects them, etc. I am always giving out my email address and phone number, so they can contact me with questions. One of the things I like about our principal is her willingness to meet and discuss just about anything with parents (there are, of course, some things she can not). And now I've been told, that not just one, but 11 parents feel they could not come to me, the principal, the music teacher, or any other staff member to discuss their concerns about the alcohol at the concert, and resorted to threats to try and achieve their goal. I think I'm more upset that there are 11 parents out there who feel their concerns wouldn't be taken seriously by any of the above mentioned people, that they could not confide in someone at the school rather than choose the very ugly yellow route they chose to employ.
I was on fire. I wanted to hang a banner that said "It wasn't you" from the school rooftop. But the moment passed, and I wasn't going to corner every parent at the school. So I did the only thing I could. At out Town Hall meeting, two weeks after the concert, when it was my turn to address the parents, among my comments were the very simple statements, "If you like what the HSA is doing, please let us know. However, if you don't like what the HSA is doing, then we definitely need to hear from you. Meetings for fundraisers happen sometimes months before the actual event. Or better yet, you can stand up, chair a fundraiser, and make it your own. If we don't hear from you, the parents who are running these events will make them their own, and I would never tell a parent who is giving up their time for the benefit of our children's school, how to run their event unless I could offer some thing concrete directly to them."
Did "Candace Bell" hear me that night? In all actuality, probably not. But those that did, came up and congratulated me on my comments. That wasn't what I was looking for. I wanted parents to understand the work involved in chairing or working a fundraiser, and if you aren't going to help, you don't get to change it to suit what you want it to be.
Do I have moments of being chicken? Sure. They mostly involve credit cards and Keith. (Just kidding). But when it comes to my kids, their friends, their schools, their sports, their parties, their anything, I am involved. I will talk to teachers, parents, friends; I will show up early and stay late; I will sweep the floor, do the shopping, read aloud for 30 minutes, drive on the field trip, know their likes and dislikes, risk being called a host of names from idiot to, well, you get the idea, whatever it takes. Chicken and my kids just don't go together. If I have a concern about something, you can bet I start at the bottom level and work my way up until it gets resolved, at the very least I would do that for my kids -- now that doesn't apply to David getting his own work done, I'm not yelling at the teacher about that 32%, she didn't pick a number , David earned it and the repercussions therein. But not stand up for my kids? Not show them that something is going on that I don't like and have them watch me try and resolve the situation? Have them watch me be chicken? So they can learn that from me? I don't think so.
Always wondered why yellow wasn't high on my list of favorite colors.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
May!
The last month of the school year! The last month of HSA stuff! It hasn't been hard to be HSA President, either year. But I'm tired and on the edge of being burned out, and I don't want to do that. This will be the last week of big stuff to do, and then it's mostly getting things in place for next year. Today was our Volunteer Tea, after all school Mass (my last EM slot for the school year), there was a breakfast served in the library by the teachers for all the parents. It was very nice, good food, and a chance to catch up with some parents I know, but don't get to see all that often.
Went home to change and was trying to get out for a walk as required by my BRW training schedule, and lo and behold, three days into it and I've already screwed up, it should have been yesterday not today. OK, and more things got in the way, including the start of the possible migraine associated with this week of the month, and I never made it. Great! Can't run a marathon if I don't move!
Went home to change and was trying to get out for a walk as required by my BRW training schedule, and lo and behold, three days into it and I've already screwed up, it should have been yesterday not today. OK, and more things got in the way, including the start of the possible migraine associated with this week of the month, and I never made it. Great! Can't run a marathon if I don't move!
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