Superhero Running

This morning I ran 7 miles. It is nothing remarkable in the world of running. BUT it was one of those runs that was so horrible, you hold onto it for weeks, and keep referring back to when you run and think, "man, at least this run wasn't as bad as that Saturday one." It is also one of those runs that you finish and you think, "I DID IT! and I DID NOT DIE" because that is all I was thinking during this run. My friend Tammy reminded me of the phrase several weeks ago, the one that says, "What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. " Well, my mantra through the run this morning was, "I am not dead, I must be getting stronger!"

It wasn't an awful day, probably 20 degrees, which is warm in WI for winter, but the wind off Lake Michigan was brutal. And the icy slush puddles on the road were freezing. I wore running tights with regular work out pants over. My pants by mile 2 were dragging in the slush, I kept looking to see who was running so loud behind me, no one, it was me. So, I dropped back, I did not stop running, I just slowed down. And at mile 3.5 when it was time to turn around I announced I was taking my pants off. Which caused some alarm I think to the men running with us. One shouted, but there is a car coming! Thankful for the warning, but I was just taking off one layer. The group kept on ahead of me, and I stayed behind. I was still running, and I was going to finish this run. My lungs and legs were burning, there were several spots I could cut short, but I didn't I pushed on and finished my seven miles.

I can remember one day talking to a man named Chris about an upcoming race. I had said, I hope it doesn't rain. And he said, I kind of like it when it rains. Then I feel like superhero. And there is something to it. That race I was talking about that I didn't want it to rain. It did, it poured. It was freezing cold and raining for at least half of the race, I couldn't see to start the race the rain was coming down so hard. And I did kind of feel like a superhero. Maybe a crazy superhero. But one who runs no matter what. And that is kind of how I felt also after today's run. Although it was not any crazy weather, unless you are not from WI and running in 20 degree snow is crazy, which many might rightly argue. But this was the superhero running that fights past everything in your body telling you to stop and finishes! I am thankful for this mornings superhero run!

I Hate the Color Blue!!!

Perspective, it is something my children give me. One day, my daughter, who was five at the time, refused to listen to me when I asked her to help her sister. After finally obeying, she still had to serve her punishment, which was five minutes in timeout. She begrudgingly sat. However, she decided her timeout would take place in the comfy chair. I made her move to her plastic blue chair in the hallway for timeout, where she turned to screams of “I HATE THE COLOR BLUE!!!” I stood in the kitchen, laughing at my daughter and her irrational anger over the color blue, what I really wanted was her to be remorseful for not obeying her mother. Why is it that when we are in trouble we can find everything wrong to complain about? When the going gets tough the world starts to fall apart around us. We can find something wrong with everything. When my husband comes home late, I all of a sudden hate that we do not have money for the new shirt that I want. When I haven’t slept in days because my baby is confused about day and night, I suddenly hate mornings and nights and just about everything else. I become irrational about life. When things do not go the way I want, I get angry. Just like my 5 year old, I want to stomp my feet and scream and hate the color blue because life just is not fair. So today I need some perspective.

Life has been a little crazy around here. As you can see from above, I have lost a lot of perspective. I am exhausted, overwhelmed and trying really hard to just keep it all together. Keeping my mouth shut as much as possible and praying even more. But, in the midst of chaos, I am thankful for the constants. And my favorite things are the things out of the mouths of my children. They are little treasures that make it all worthwhile and OK--when everything else does not seem to be. So... some perspective
David (3) told me the other day after his nap, “Mom, Jesus loves my heart!” I said, yes he does buddy, but why are you telling me that, where did you get that from. He said, “God just told me that!”
Karis (5) while watching a TV show, “that child is very impressive.” I love to see my children excited and impressed by others—not envious, but encouraged.
Karis (when she was 2!) Told me that she missed Jesus, I asked what she meant, she said, “I miss Him, sometimes he carries me mom.” Really? He carries you? And she responded, “Yes, he does carry me.” All I could think of was, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”Matthew 11:28-30
Anya (8) She is a girl of few words, but my favorite thing about her is her heart – she wears it on her sleeve and often in her eyes that fill with tears so easily. My favorite thing she has EVER said was when she was three “That is just the way God made me!” when told by a neighbor that her butt had a crack in it.– it was said as only a 3 year old can say with a certain conviction of true identity.

Monday

It is a Monday, that is all I have to say. I could not really imagine a worse day. Woke up, ran, made breakfast, (none of that was really all that bad) BUT then my potty training woes kicked in. I do not let my three year old wear a pull up unless we are going somewhere or he is sleeping. So I took of his pull up this morning (and for the most part we have success). NOT this morning. Within minutes he peed all down the front of his pants. He was so remorseful. I SO SO SO sorry mommy I will never pee in my pants again. I love you so much! My anger quickly dissapated. And 5 minutes later. MOMMY I AM POOPING IN MY PANTS! Tears start flowing. And not just his! WHAT? What happened to the remorse from 5 minutes ago? So, he had to take a shower, which he HATES and he screamed at me the whole time. But he survived. And then the worst happened. I was taking his pants downstairs to be washed and somehow I did not realize there was poop in them? So, all of a sudden I hear a THUD as this poop hits the floor and then the dog comes out of nowhere and EATS IT! I am now hyperventilating with my head between my legs because I think I am going to throw up and my nine year old is crying because I am scaring her and my 5 year old is hiding and my little boy is still naked from his shower, shivering in a towel.
Thankfully after it all got cleaned up and everyone was dressed, I was able to give my sister a call for a very needed grown up talk. In which she informed me, "at least my son did not poop on the babies face on purpose"which is apparently what happened to one of her friends. AND yes thank you for that perspective. But I am ready for Tuesday and it is just barey 10 a.m.

Resolving....

It is New Year's Eve, a time for resolving (I personally like the word resoluting, but upon looking it up found it had no definition -- so I am resolving) I kind of go up and down about resolutions BUT have learned that it is better to resolve to do something, to set a goal, then to be just completely content where I am at, otherwise, how would I ever grow? And this also comes to my theory of expectations.

I have been thinking on the phrase, “If you don’t expect anything, you will never be disappointed.” I have expectations for my marriage, of my children and my life. I expected that early on in my marriage we would buy a house. We would settle down with our children and I would live a simple life but content. It took ten years to buy a house and now that we have a house I have to work part- time just to get by. I expect that my husband and I will laugh together every day. I want to share my thoughts and have him listen with intense interest and encouragement. I have expectations for my children. I want them to be respectful, obedient and kind. I expect them to pick up after themselves. I expect them to play together nicely and respect the adults in their lives. I have expectations for just about everything and find myself frequently disappointed when these things do not turn out the way I think they should.

So, should I stop expecting anything? Here is the problem. If I don’t expect anything it may be that nothing will happen. If I have no expectations of myself I grow lazy. If I have low expectations for my family they may think I don’t expect anything because I think they are capable of nothing. Expectations can build a sense of pride and purpose. So, I think I will leave the no expectations for a rainy Saturday where there is no danger of disappointment only possibility. And I will keep my expectations great for my children, marriage and self because I know they are capable of more than I can expect.

So, my expectations for this year? For myself? My resolves, my goals are:
1. to run my FIRST marathon
2. to have more fun with my children
3. to read a book a month
4. to not spend as much money... especially on coffee (sorry Starbucks!)
5. to go on more dates with my husband

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Things I Love Thursday... Christmas card LETTERS

I really love the cards that I get at Christmas with letters. Sorry, as cute as the pictures are, and as much as I love the kids in my life, I hardly have time to take pictures of my own children, so I probably will not put pictures of your children on my refrigerator because my children might start to wonder where theirs are and a cycle begins. So, you're pictures are "oohed and aahed" over for a second, then put in the garbage- sorry, if I am losing friends here, I am maybe just trying to say that you can save some money by not sending me one, and maybe I am a high maintenance friend, because I want to know what happened, to be proud of what you did and excited for the year ahead. I am so proud of so many of my friends and family and all they can accomplish in a year. But, alas, I am AWFUL at sending out a card. I have planned to on and off for the past nine years, and this year, I did not even plan to so... in lieu of a card, I am blogging.

This year we (in no particular order)....
took gymnastics, took swimming lessons, made a movie, premiered a movie, had a baby girl named Verity Sophia, went to the beach, worked on sewing projects, learned a neat new pattern for crocheting hats (that I have become a bit obsessed with), visited family in MI, WI and IL, visited friends in Grand Rapids, made new friends, joined a running group, picked strawberries, lost our first teeth, tried rollerskating, ran a race, joined a new Bible Study, became members at our church, quit my very part-time job, went to a cabin for a week, celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary, picked apples, learned how to go places with four children, learned how to read, laughed a lot, cried some and realized we work together as a really good family!
I guess that is it I am sure I am missing things, but these stand out for the year!

This post is linked to Things I Love Thursday at Diaper Diaries

WARNING, (this post is sad)

So, I have thought for a while about whether or not to write on this, but this time of year has some ache in my heart. It is such a GREAT time of year, full of cheer and joy. And it is, but there is a part of my, "this time of year." that is sad. And this is my story. Four years ago, I was reveling in the joy of being pregnant for a third time. I had really started to show early, already in my maternity pants at 6 weeks! I thought, "this is what happens with the third." I had waited so anxiously for this child. I had wanted him, from the moment my second was born. I knew, I love my girls, but my family was not complete. I had room for more. And when Karis was one week old, I started planning when I could get pregnant again. The year came with lots of problems including emergency room visits and EKG's followed by major surgery on my kidney. But one and a half years after she was born we were pregnant. And I was SO happy! I went in for my eight week check up in the middle of December. And they did all the normal tests and said, "there might be some spotting, but that is normal." And the next day there was, spotting, just a little. and pretty much every day after that for a week. But it was Christmas so I waited a little. Two days after Christmas I called the doctor and explained that I had been spotting, just once a day since the checkup. She said that was not really normal, but she was not concerned. She had me come in for an ultrasound just for "peace of mind."
My husband went into that room with me and the tech put the warm jelly and wand on my belly. And there was nothing. No heartbeat. I burst into tears. And that "kind" tech said, "why are you crying, I haven't even done anything yet." And I said, "I have had two babies, I know what is supposed to be there! And it is not." She said I was over reacting and took some measurements then sent me to wait in the waiting room. I couldn't stop crying. This was not supposed to happen to me. She called the doctor and he told me it looked like a "spontaneous abortion." I don't know why they call it that, but they do and it is an awful name. I cried the whole way home. Told my sister to take the maternity shirt she had gotten me for Christmas and go. I held my girls, my 4 year old and 1 year old. And I cried. The doctor said it would happen on its own. I just had to wait.
Well, a week went by, and life went on around me. A New Year came. The spotting stopped. And it didn't happen. I held onto this weak hope that maybe God had started this little babies heart. I had a newsletter to write. My husband had to start teaching. Someone asked me to babysit. Everyone was acting like everything was "ok." I ran as fast and as far as I could crying most of the time. They scheduled a D&C. But that night it happened. In my little apartment. In pain and blood. I cried some more. It felt like life would never be the same. I blamed myself. My daughter prayed that God would take care of our baby and send a new one soon. And I cried some more.
I had a lot to deal with and blamed myself. I told myself that I already had two children, who was I to complain. I told myself that I had friends that had lost babies at 20 weeks, 30 weeks, at birth or days old. That I was 11 weeks, that was nothing compared to what they suffered. But I did suffer. I suffered and mourned for this child that I loved with all my heart.
My husband and I went away for a weekend. And God spoke loudly. Telling me that I needed to not be afraid. God did not promise that I would never have another miscarriage. He did not promise that I would have another baby. But God spoke to my heart about not living in fear.
We were blessed the following December to welcome David into the world. Then when we found out we were pregnant with our fourth, due the same time as the precious child we lost three years earlier. I became afraid again. I had nightmares of losing this child. I felt myself wrestling with God, pleading for this child's life. Fear gripped me. And one night, after a long time of "fighting" it felt, I saw this little boy waving at me. His name was Noah. He was laughing and playing in a field. He waved and said, "hi, MOM!" And I think it was a gift. I believe Noah is my son, in Heaven, in Jesus arms, and one day I will be there with him. And the nightmares stopped after that. And Verity joined our family this past July.
Life is precious. And I am so thankful for each little life God has blessed me with. And I grieve with all those mom's who have babies in Heaven. And I am so thankful for hope, that we will be together again!
I don't know why I share this, but I hope it is helpful to someone. And maybe it explains the tears that come so easily to me this time of year. And make me want to get away from all the "doing" of this season and just "be" with those I love.

"Man Cold" from Man Stroke Woman

We have a serious case of "man cold" in our house. To his credit he did have a fever, well I am pretty sure that he did because when he gets chills he kind of wraps himself in blankets and then his body temp I think just sky rockets until he is a furnace! Anyways to his luck, he recently pointed out this book which he heard discussed on NPR (I cannot find the book) -- so now I am going off his word. But anyways, this book stated the best cure for the common cold was compassion. That Vitamin C works some - but mostly in active people and chicken noodle soup works as well, but the best cure was compassion - which I must admit I sorely lack most of the time when it comes to my husband, so I cancelled my early run today, let him sleep til he was ready to wake up and served him breakfast in bed.

And, after asking me several times what was wrong with me and why was I being so nice? He got up and made it through the day, well so far, it is only mid-afternoon.

AND it got me thinking that maybe there is some truth to this... SO, I started thinking back to when my son was born. He was 8lbs. 10 oz, which is big, but not really that big, all my children had weighed over 8 lbs, so I wasn't surprised, but they thought maybe I had been diabetic and they had missed it so they checked his blood sugar and it was low, like 40 or something. And so they told me, he needs to eat, YOU NEED TO FEED HIM! And all he was doing was crying. He didn't want to eat. And, I felt so helpless. So, I just held him against me, until they came in to get him, and then they took his blood sugar again and it was in the 80s and they were no longer worried. And it amazed me that this little person just needed me to hold him, his blood sugar restored to normal. So now I am thinking maybe there is something to compassion in the healing process....