Once Upon a Time...

Nearly every night at bedtime, my husband or I crawl into bed with the boys and read to them. We typically read chapter books and my husband is currently reading the first Harry Potter book to them. Last night my husband worked, and I didn’t want to read Harry Potter. I suggested to the boys that we make up a story, each of us taking turns and adding a few sentences. It could end up really funny. Oldest said, “Don’t make it about us.” Okay!

Me: Once upon a time, two cats went to……

Littlest: The Zoo!

Oldest: No! Not the Zoo. The Cat Fun Center!

He then proceeds to go on about roller coasters and having to jump off onto pillows and getting hurt.

I then turn it over to Littlest, who is dead set on the zoo.

Neither will give in to the other and each has their own story to tell. So I let them. I smiled the whole time. I love their imaginations.

~Peace

MARATHON

I did it on accident. Registering for a Marathon? Craziness! I meant to register for the ½ Marathon! There was no way I could finish a whole Marathon! Do you know how far that is? 26.2 miles. But, as I thought about it and my friends offered encouragement, I knew it wasn’t a mistake. My sub –conscious had other goals for me.

I trained. I was slow. But really the only goal I had for this race was to finish. A dear friend who completed her first Marathon just a year before told me I would never look at a ½ the same way again.

Saturday, November 14, 2010. Race day. I hadn’t slept well. I never do the night before. I got up, got dressed. A friend had told me that I should put my name on my shirt so that people would know who I was and offer encouragement. Great idea! In past races they have yelled, “Great job, Blue!” in reference the color of my shirt. So I put my name on my shirt. I kissed my kids and husband for luck and headed out the door. My father-in law, sister-in –law and nephew head to the start. My nephew is 14 and he ran the ½. (He rocked it!)

Ready, Set, Go!

I always start too fast, too fast for me. I get caught up in the crowd and can’t help myself. About a mile in my shins started hurting. This has happened in every race I’ve done. I just need to walk it out for a bit. As I’m walking I pass a group of people. No, jerks! Holding up signs, pointing and laughing. The signs said, “What part of running is walking?” At that moment, I hated that city, I hated that race. People are supposed to line the streets offering encouragement. I actually started to cry. I ripped my name off my shirt, pulled down my sunglasses even though I did not need them and tried to become invisible.

Then, I got mad. I got mad at them for laughing. I got mad at myself for letting them affect my world. I’ve never felt like I fit in. I’m not popular. I never have been. But what I am is strong and tough. One thing I’ve learned about myself over the last 42 years is that I’m not a quitter. This is especially true when I’ve had people tell me I’m not good enough. I have to prove them wrong. I was going to finish this race no matter what. It wasn’t going to be fast, but I was going to cross that finish line with my head held high and get that finisher’s medal.

My legs felt better and I started running again. There were crowds of people at Mile 3, I was starting to feel good about doing this again. Running by one of the Music Grandstands, the lead singer was offering up high 5’s. I took one. At mile 4 people were handing out Mardi Gras beads. I took some purple ones. At Mile 5 beer was offered, I didn’t partake. J At Mile6 was a boy looking shyly over a sign that said “Thank you.” (This race benefited the Susan G Komen race for the Cure. I cried again as I imagined his story.) At mile 7, a produce company was handing out bananas. I needed some energy.

At Mile 8, I see my Father-in - law. Thank you.

Mile 9, there are the beautiful faces of my boys, holding signs that say, “Great Job Mommy!” and “YOU ROCK!” They offer me kisses and ask if I need anything else. I say no, smile and am on my way. I feel really good.

Mile 10.8. The Split! I’ve always taken the easy route (13.1) but this time I take the hard one (26.2). Wow! What happened to all the people? I look at a few of the marathoners who are walking and said, “Are you guys ready?” They said, “Let’s go!” and off we went. I look to my right and I see the marathon leaders hitting mile 23. I’m at Mile 11. This is going to be a long day. I mention to one of my fellow slow-pokes that the leaders were making me feel really slow. He told me not to think about them, this was my Marathon.

My boys found me again at Mile 13. They gave me some fuel and I was off again. At mile 14 a young man with Down’s Syndrome was dancing to the music one of the bands was playing and giving out High 5’s. I took one.

At Mile 15 I see my boys again. A woman running with me told me I had a beautiful family. I have an amazing family. I took my husband’s running jacket and we headed into the country. Mile 18, they are there again. And I see my boys one last time between 20 and 21. I’m on my own now until the end. Everything hurts. My back aches from the pounding. My knees hurt and my feet have blisters. I can’t stop. At Mile 21 there is that young man with Down’s Syndrome again. I cannot believe he is still there. I take another High 5.

At about Mile 22 I start walking with Richard. He has an injury to his foot and he’s in a lot of pain. We talk and walk and agree to at least run through every mile marker.

My Father-in –law meets me at Mile 25. He walks with me for a bit and says that it’s right around the corner. Not really, but that’s ok.

Finally, there is the Alamodome. We start running again. Everything hurts but we are almost done. Excuse me?! Uphill to the finish?

There is my husband and my littlest. Littlest starts running with me, well he was faster than me at that point. We turn the corner, and there is the finish line. Off to my right is my family; My Mother-in law and her husband, my Sister-in law and my nephew, my husband and my Oldest.
Then, I hear my name announced and the guy told everyone I had just finished my first Marathon. How did the guy in the chute holding the microphone know who I was? It felt amazing and gave me strength. Littlest and I crossed with our heads held high, fists in the air and smile on our faces. Littlest accepted my medal for me.

I did it! I finished a marathon. I Rocked!

When’s the next race?

ROCK ON!

Keeping the Magic Alive

My oldest turns 7 next week, and it’s already happening. He is starting to hear his friends talk about the “Magic of Christmas” not being real. I’m going to have to work hard this year, it may be the last. I’m not ready for him not to believe. It makes me sad.

My husband and I are lucky to be able to spend time at my son’s school every week. At school the other day during snack, one of his classmates asked the kids at the table what they were doing for Christmas. Then he said that Santa wasn’t real. His mom told him. My heart sank. How could she do that? He’s only 6. One of the other kids at the table agreed with him. “Santa’s not real. I know,” she proclaimed.

My son looks at me with his eyes about to spill over and asks, “Mom he is real, isn’t he?” The other four children looked to me as well. My answer, “He is real to those who believe. I believe in him.” They looked so relieved. One of the girls said, “My mom even has his phone number!”

We have a wooden Advent calendar with 24 numbered compartments. My husband bought some chocolate to put in it. He didn’t hide it and the boys found it in the cabinet. I’ve always told the boys the chocolate appears magically. Yesterday, on the 1st, I put in the chocolate my husband bought. Oldest knew right away and asked if I put the candy in there. I admitted that I had. I told him that I’d brought the calendar up late and had to put it in there. I then got some new, unidentifiable by him, chocolates to put in there. This morning he woke up and right away opened the calendar. Beaming from ear to ear he announces, “It really is magic.”

See, he’s not ready not to believe in the magic of the season.

I need to start thinking of creative ways to keep him believing.

We have a Santa Key, because we don’t have a fireplace and he’s questioned how Santa gets in the house. Every Christmas Eve, we put the Santa Key outside our front door and every Christmas morning it key appears on the plate the cookies were on.

I’ve had friends tell me they go outside and make reindeer prints on the snow. We read and watch Polar Express. We see Santa every year at the same place and it’s always the same Santa. I love that I have 6 pictures on my kids sitting with the same Santa.

I’d love other suggestions. I need to keep the magic alive for a few more years. My littlest is only 4 and I’m really not ready for him not to believe.

~Peace
And
Ho, Ho, Ho