Not best…but definitely blessed.

Last Friday was one of the most blessed days I have had in awhile. Ironically enough, it was also the day Heidi puked her guts out for the first time.

I am blessed all the time…regardless of where I am, what I have, and who I’m with. In fact, ever since I started noticing my blessings more, jotting them all down in a journal for safekeeping before I lay my head down at night, I have noticed how negatively I used to think. All the time. I would actually do just the opposite at the end of the day, noting everything that went wrong and didn’t get done. Talk about depressing.

But after a few months of training myself to see God’s gifts in every day, I’m finding myself staying afloat, even (and especially) on the bad days.

Heidi had been acting normal all morning last Friday. In fact, we were enjoying a play date with our friends and had been outside at the playground most of the morning. They left just before lunch. I fed Heidi, read to her, and put her down for her nap. Less than an hour later, she woke up crying. Since this was a shorter nap than usual, I considered letting her go for awhile, but decided against it. It was worth checking her diaper or to see if her leg had gotten stuck in the crib slats…again.

To my surprise, I went in to find Heidi had thrown up…everywhere. I didn’t gag, shockingly enough.  In fact, I was so heartbroken by the sad and scared look on her face that I picked her up and held her close…thus getting barf all over my shirt.  I think it’s a total mom thing that I didn’t care. The real me would have probably thrown up on her and then called my mom to come clean us up and take care of us both. I peeled off her clothes and plunked her in the bathtub, even though she hated it. My mind was racing…did she have a fever? Would she throw up again? Did she have the flu? Was she aching all over? (Am I the only one that freaks out and gets all dramatic when my kid bumps her head or gets sick?) Her little eyes were swollen from crying and her face pale from throwing up. I put her in clean pj’s, wrapped her in a warm blanket, and put her in front of her favorite thing in the entire world…Tangled.

I went to her room to assess the situation and started to stress about how I would clean up the chunky, stinking mess. My heart sank when I realized our washer was still broken. I gathered all the dirty sheets and clothes, rinsed them in the bathtub, and then swallowed my pride and called my neighbor.

My neighbor, Ginny, is the sweetest woman. When she found out I was pregnant with Heidi last year, she told me several times that if I ever found myself suffering from the “baby blues,” I was welcome to call her to come rock Heidi while I took a shower, went grocery shopping, or did anything else to take time for myself. It took me months to work up the courage to ask for help with baby Heidi. If you’re  anything like me, you like to try as long as you can to prove you can do everything by yourself. Then you crash and you burn and you’re a hot mess and you’re crying and you’re shoving chocolate in your mouth…. THEN…and only then… you finally ask for help. (Is this just me too??) Ginny has been a huge help over the past year, babysitting Heidi for me while I get little things done here and there.

Ginny came through for me once again on Friday in a way that blessed me immensely. I was embarrassed to ask her if I could wash Heidi’s puke-infested laundry at her house. She insisted it was not a problem at all. When I showed up at her doorstep with a garbage bag of grossness on one side and Heidi tucked in on the other, she immediately took the bag from me. She rinsed out the laundry a little more, stain-guarded it, and threw everything in the washer. She sat with Heidi and me for a bit, reassuring me Heidi would be just fine. When I had to leave so Heidi could rest at home, Ginny told me she would bring the laundry back over when it was clean. Which she did…all of it neatly folded. She also had a bag from the grocery store with Pedialyte, bananas, chicken noodle soup for Heidi and a bag of chocolate for me. I am pretty sure I teared up from relief.

This was definitely not the best day I’ve had in awhile. In fact, I could probably tell you why it was the worst…but talking like that would completely defeat the purpose. No, it was not the best day, but it was a blessed day. Blessed in that way you can only be blessed when things go wrong. Blessed in realizing you didn’t die when that thing you dreaded most happened. Blessed when you counted all the things that happened that helped you through that trial. Blessed because someone came through for you in a way you really didn’t expect them to. Blessed because you had to humble yourself and admit you couldn’t do something all alone…and blessed because someone lifted a heavy burden for you.

I had so much peace Friday night and Saturday morning, and I don’t doubt it was because of the kindness shown to me by my neighbor. I also realized, by counting my blessings that particular day, things could have been much worse. I am deeply blessed my daughter just had a little bug and nothing more. And I’m blessed to have had the things I needed to make her feel better.

At the end of this day, I was actually bursting with thanksgiving to God. I was uplifted, thankful and humbled….joyful, even. It was definitely a testament to the power of gratitude. It makes the good days completely amazing…and it makes the bad ones deeply blessed. When I force myself to see the good stuff on a bad day, that’s when my heart is transformed. That’s when “count your blessings” turns from a trite saying to a way of life. One I find myself clinging to because there truly is no other way to live.

“How can Satan control us if we are going to be joyful and thankful no matter what our circumstances are? Admittedly, this kind of lifestyle requires a sacrifice of praise or thanksgiving, but I would rather sacrifice my thanksgiving to God than sacrifice my joy to Satan. -Joyce Meyer

“We do not need the grace of God to withstand crises – human nature and pride are sufficient for us to face stress and strain magnificently. But it does require the supernatural grace of God to live 24 hours of every day as a saint, going through drudgery, and living an ordinary, unnoticed, and ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is ingrained in us that we have to do exceptional things for God – but we do not. We have to be exceptional at the ordinary things of life and holy on the  ordinary streets, among ordinary people – and this is not learned in five minutes.” -Joyce Meyer

⁵ Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,

“Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you.

-Hebrews 13:5

Heidi playing with her little friend the morning she got sick. She certainly doesn’t look sick, does she???

Live at your own risk

I was never more aware of the possibility of bad things happening than when I had my daughter, Heidi. Before her, I always knew I was at risk. We all are. Car accidents, illnesses, people hurting us…some days we’re more aware of it than others. Other days we find ourselves in the thick of it. But something in me was ok with the idea that I personally would eventually have to deal with one or more of those things. Or at least the threat of it didn’t seem so great.

Not so with Heidi. I still check on her in the middle of the night to make sure she is ok. I will probably do that until she turns 18.

In the past few months, I’ve seen friends wrestle with things no one in their worst nightmare would want to deal with. Abuse. Cancer. Death. There have been days I’ve cried to God in my prayers, “Why? Don’t you even care? Are we just here until we die while you watch us suffer?”  It seemed He was indifferent, and I was offended He had the audacity to plop us here on this planet and watch us walk amongst its beauty and ruins, blindly trying to avoid injury and pain. It makes me painfully aware that I could someday find myself or my daughter or my husband walking through similar painful circumstances.

I’ll be the first to admit I have so much to be thankful for. Especially lately, when I’ve taken steps to make sure I’m thankful every single day, even for something as simple as warm coffee in my cup. I used to think listing everything I was thankful for was prideful, maybe even bragging. How dare I thank God, with reverence, for something as simple as coffee when life holds so much heartache? But the more I thank, the more I realize it is actually humbling. To thank God for things as huge and tiny and simple as a healthy family, soft carpets on the floor, a warm bath and twinkling lights on the tree is to acknowledge  that I am surrounded by His gifts. None of it is in my life of my own accord. And to acknowledge that is to also acknowledge that each and every one could be taken away at any time. This adds so much depth to our gratitude. It’s not simply saying thanks. It’s saying, “Thank you for this in this very moment, for I realize it means You have placed it there and that it may not be here tomorrow.” It’s creating an appreciation in our hearts for the life and space we inhibit. It squelches the regret of our past and the anxiety for our future. It builds God’s goodness into us.

So why, with all these blessings surrounding me, do I sometimes still demand an explanation from God for the bad things? Why do I  terrify myself with thoughts of “what if?” and questioning whether He will be there to help me in my time of need? Do I really expect Him, in this world of free will, to keep me in a bubble until my death? Do I expect things to be black and white and so simple in order that I might feel better about having more kids in this messed up world?

The Type A part of my brain cringes at the idea that I may forever have to wrestle with God to answer the question “why?” Because why would I so gladly (and sometimes too quickly and greedily) snatch up His blessings, but balk at Him when something awful happens? The first is a reaction of trust (“of COURSE He wants me to have this!!” and the second is an attitude of complete distrust (certainly God you don’t want me to walk through this dark valley? Are you aware of what is happening? Are you shirking your duty of protecting me?”).

I read something today that made me realize God is not the One I should be wrestling with. It’s the world. God isn’t messed up. The world is. God isn’t broken. We are. God is not fickle or shady or untrustworthy. I should not choose to fight with God. I should choose to fight for love…for gratitude and humbleness and teaching my daughter values and insisting we honor God in our home. I should fight to know Jesus more, fight to live a good life, fight to trust His promises when the “earth gives way and falls into the heart of the sea,” fight to keep my feet on God’s narrow path of goodness and peace. I’m glad God uses the word “fight” in the bible. It emphasizes He knew it would be just that: a struggle requiring strength only He can give us.

I struggle to trust God loves my daughter more than I do. I struggle to trust He will work out His plan in the bad things that happen to us or to those I love. And sometimes I even struggle to see the good, the beautiful, and the amazing in our sometimes mundane life.

But it’s a worthy struggle, one that bears the fruit of peace. And in this messed up world, peace is often hard to come by.

Christ, He doesn’t reveal the outcome of what we face, but He reveals to us the face we face. This is the gift of Christmas that flickers in the pitch black.   -Ann Voskamp

Makeup brushes and the Reason for the Season

Heidi is all girl. She loves going in my closet to try on my belts and shoes. She uses whatever remotely looks like a comb to brush her hair. She is always “fixing” my hair (this actually involves her completely messing it up, and then very carefully, she’ll try and smooth it all back into place). She pretends that sticks are makeup brushes and a rock is  her compact, and she will sit in the dirt and very daintily apply her pretend makeup. We have screaming contests sometimes, just for fun. She has tea parties in her tent. And she always flashes a huge smile in the mirror when I fix her hair and then let her see it to make sure she approves. She nearly always does.

While it’s the most amazing thing to watch my baby turn into a little girl, it’s also made me very aware of something else. She watches me…very closely. Every move I make, every word I say, every attitude I exude, she picks up. As sweet as it is when she plays with makeup and dress-up clothes, it’s just as startling to see her throw something out of anger. Once this realization hit, I thought back to ways I have acted in front of her with a bit of an “oooopsies” muttered under my breath. This has caused me to tred more carefully throughout my day. I started to bite my lip, sit on my hands, and simply walk away so I could react in another room before I come back and deal with the situation at hand. I didn’t want her seeing or repeating me on those days where I couldn’t keep myself in check.

This seems a particularly fitting season to reflect on my priorities and what I am teaching my daughter by my lifestyle. While she may not be old enough to understand the concepts of Advent or Santa Claus, she is old enough to understand the concept of “stressed” and “busy” and “me first.” If I am running from point A to B to C, cussing under my breath at crazy drivers and huffing impatiently in the checkout line, she sees. If I’m resentfully spending time buying and wrapping and freaking out over Christmas gifts, she sees. If I am spending all my time feeding into the hype, and spending zero time reading to her about Jesus or teaching her how to give, she sees.

 

I know she is only 15 months old, but every night she folds her hands to pray with me before bed. She stays very still and quiet until I am finished. Like I said, they learn more and they learn faster than we give them credit for sometimes.I don’t believe kids are ever too young to be taught gratitude or sharing or humbleness or the concept of putting others first. They may not understand,
but the rhythm of our words and actions gets implanted in their hearts. I don’t think their chubby little hands and their great big hearts are incapable of learning about love. Aren’t they the ones that teach us love in the first place?  Wasn’t it Heidi that taught me giving up myself to bring happiness to someone else is where real life is found, that to put others first brings the greatest joy? Isn’t she the one that has been showing me for over a year what life is truly about?

While I am not opposed to Christmas gifting or some of the bustle of the season, I would love it if Heidi grew up sensing that this is also a sacred season. I want her to know the story of Jesus’ birth, to understand the quietness and importance of lighting a candle in the dark, to know the joy of giving over the joy of receiving.

Let’s be honest. I want that for myself too.

“Maybe that’s always the only choice we have to make every Christmas: feed our own fickle wishes or feed the real hunger of Christ?Nothing can be claimed, taken, received, had; everything we have is gift to us from heaven. All that we have has no other source but the hand of God. (Jn 3:27).”  -Ann Voskamp

Thanksgiving year-round.

This was the BEST Thanksgiving I have ever had, hands down. And deep down, I feel it was the most important.

It wasn’t because I necessarily had more time with my family. It wasn’t because the food was better or Cody had more time off work. It wasn’t because Heidi was older and a little easier to handle, or because anything particularly special happened.

No, this Thanskgiving was the best because I was thankful.

Seems kind of self-explanatory, yes? But I assure you, it’s not. As a Thanksgiving tradition, my family goes around the dinner table and lists one thing we are thankful for. Ironically enough, we forgot this year. However, it’s also fitting, considering what I’ve learned over the past few months. If we HAD gone around the dinner table over the weekend, I would not have said I was thankful for my husband, my daughter, my family, my friends, or my warm cozy home.

The ONE thing I am thankful for this year is gratitude. The daily practice of it has truly changed my heart.

 Over the past few months, I have made more of an effort to be grateful on a daily basis. It sounds easy. We’re thankful for a roof over our head or food on our table or our healthy babies. But then when I hit rough days, it became harder. I felt bitter, my attitude was terrible, and I was angry about cancelled plans, spilled coffee, a sick baby, and lack of time. All I wanted to do was list everything that was going wrong. I was stuck on not getting what I wanted. On those days, my heart did not want to think about what it was thankful for. It wanted to wallow and feel sorry for itself. And I wanted to make sure everyone else know what a bad day I had. (We’ve all been there, right?)

Over time, and because of lots of encouragement from a good friend, I kept at it. I wrote in the gratitude journal she gave me each night before bed. I listed everything from the day I was thankful for. And on the days I felt frustrated with whatever trial we were going through, I forced myself to list as many things as I possibly could anyways. Soon, the broad items on my list (food, shelter, clothing, family) turned to smaller things: Heidi’s laughter, her smiles in the dark when she wakes up in the middle of the night, clean towels after a bath, a husband who works hard for us and asks for text pictures of his daughter multiple times a day, grandparents who are close by, piles of books for my daughter to read, the ability to make healthy meals for my family, the blessing of being able to stay home with my daughter while pursuing passions of my own (freelance writing and editing), phone calls to my best friends, warm coffee every morning…and the list gets longer and longer.

I used to think it was a tad petty to thank God for tiny things like a lovely-smelling candle, a phone call, a warm sweater. I felt like He had bigger issues to deal with and more eloquent prayers to hear. But I am realizing more and more that these prayers of gratitude are the biggest ones we can offer. Because when we thank Him for the little things, we are acknowledging His presence in all things…that everything in our lives is a deliberate gift HE has placed there.  The fact that God is surrounding us at every moment, giving small gifts…and the way we choose to SEE those things… turns our hearts to Him so that we trust Him even more when the rug gets tugged from  beneath our feet.

I have noticed now that it’s become a habit. It’s easier now, more than ever, to be thankful for the smallest things. It’s actually becoming tough NOT to be thankful, even when a day takes a turn for the worst. Because the worst, sadly, could always be worse.

As I type this, my daughter is pretending my camera is a cell phone, jabbering way in the living room. She is climbing in and out of her tent, sharing her goldfish crackers with our dog, and laughing. She has been cutting molars lately, which would drive any parent crazy. But I found myself, in the midst of sleepless nights and a very whiney/clingy toddler, thanking God deeply that right now, molars are all we are battling. I thank God for Orajel and Tylenol and soft blankets and books that comfort and movies that relax. When we are eating a snack, watching Tangled at 2am for the umpteenth time in our bed because she is uncomfortable and just wants mommy and daddy, we hold her close and wrap her up tighter in her blanket.

Since this journey of gratitude, I have found I’m less jealous of others. I am less bitter, less inflexible (figure out THAT double negative, haha), less angry, and less wanting. Instead, I have more joy, more peace, and much more contentment with what we have. And I have less fear about the future. In fact, the more I count my blessings, the more humble I feel at all we have been given, red-faced at my ungrateful attitude sometimes.

This is why it was the best Thanksgiving. I’m not sad it’s over  because I have learned to carry the holiday in my heart all year.  And once we start counting blessings, even a year doesn’t seem like enough time to thank God for every single one, much less a day.

“It is impossible to give thanks and simultaneously feel fear….
The practice of giving thanks….
this is the way we practice the presence of God,
stay present to His presence,
and it is always a practice of the eyes.
We don’t have to change what we see.
Only the way we see.” Ann Voskamp

Thankful for this crazy girl.

Heidi and the fat lip

A couple weeks ago, Heidi got her first busted lip on the coffee table.

I knew this was going to happen. And I know it’s not the last time. But the first time? Traumatic. But also hilarious in hindsight only because I reacted as a typical first time mom.

Simply put, Heidi tripped on her blanket, fell face first into the coffee table, and now has a fat lip. She also  tore a little bit of the inside of her lip with her tooth. But all in all, besides playing with her fat lip a lot (which is funny), she is fine.

BUT. At the time, here is what I was thinking:

Ok, good. Looks like just a  big bruise…wait…is that blood?? THERE IS BLOOD ALL OVER HER BLANKET (read: a spot about the size of a quarter).Oh my gosh, it is pooling everywhere. She needs stitches. Cody’s at work. What do I do? I can’t put her in the car seat with her bleeding everywhere, can I? I’m calling mom…”Mom…MOM, Heidi smashed her face into the coffee table and there is blood everywhere. *crying* I am TRYING to calm down, but what do I do, should I take her to the ER? I can’t see where she tore it, she won’t let me touch her face.  It’s super swollen and there’s blood all over  *crying* and it just looks really bad. *crying*   HER LIPS ARE SWOLLEN SHUT. (read: the left side of her lips were just slightly swollen shut.  Barely.) What if she broke a tooth or did something I can’t see? Can you meet me at the ER? “

At this point, I’m scrambling, trying to get my shoes on and get Heidi ready to go. Within five minutes, she had stopped crying and the bleeding had stopped.  As we were driving to the hospital, I realized she was totally fine, and I started to feel a little sheepish. When we were walking into the hospital, my mom was waiting for us in the ER waiting room. Heidi, her little eyes swollen from crying, immediately reached for a hug from Grandma. Meanwhile, Cody walked in (I had texted him that we were going to the hospital). They both took a peek in her mouth, saying, “she definitely got herself good, but she is fine.”

*sigh*

Meanwhile, the people at the ER desk were probably rolling their eyes. Mom was giggling at me, giving me a hug and telling me it wouldn’t be the first time. Cody was telling me his own horror stories of getting his lips completely stuck to his braces when he was younger…multiple times. (Which only reminded me we have a lot to look forward to in terms of hospital visits, I imagine!)

I took Heidi home, shared a popsicle with her to help with the swelling, and put her to bed. I realize this is probably one of the least traumatic things that will happen to me as a parent. And I’m sure next time, I will (I hope!) assess the situation a bit more before freaking out. But I can’t help it. I turn to complete mush when it comes to Heidi. When she is sad or sick or in pain, like today, I do everything I can to make it better because seeing that little face so sad just kills me. I am a wuss, thanks to my kid.

But a very blessed and happy wuss.

“When you’re pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your own body to yourself again; yet after giving birth you realize that the biggest part of you is somehow now external, subject to all sorts of dangers, so you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to keep her close enough for comfort.” -Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts

 

26 MILES is seriously crazy.

Well, we did it. Mindy and I ran and FINISHED the marathon last Saturday. This post comes late because a busy week awaited us, which is unfortunate since walking proved difficult for a couple days. But our muscles are nearly back to normal, and we are both looking forward to working out again (in the gym, that is…I think we need a break from running).

Here’s how it went:

The two nights before the race I barely slept at all. Thursday night I got about four hours and Friday night I only had two. I’m sure most of it was nerves, but Friday night my throat started to hurt. I panicked, praying I wasn’t getting sick, and loaded up on Vitamin C. I lay awake all night long, only sleeping from about 2am to 4am. By morning, I felt feverish and I almost called Mindy  to tell her I just couldn’t do it. But the idea of having to do this race at another time was unbearable since we had trained for five months. So I decided to just get up, get moving, change, have breakfast, and see how I felt. Worst case scenario would be that I ran a few miles and quit because I was sick.

It was a BEAUTIFUL morning. Mindy and I chugged our coffee  on the way, and put on some very old (and very big) sweats to keep warm. It was so cold, probably not much more than 40 degrees. We parked and started getting ready in the parking lot…fanny packs packed, chaffing cream applied, ipods in place, numbers pinned on our shirts, and pre-race pictures taken.

At this point, the adrenaline was kicking in. The sun was nearly up over the horizon, everyone around us was jazzed and getting ready, and we started getting excited. I was feeling much better than I had been earlier (plus I had knocked back a few Advil, so that always helps). The sunshine and fresh air helped immensely.

We got to our corral and waited. Finally the gun went off, and our marathon….26 miles…began. We ran in silence, with just a little talking, the first hour and a half. We talked about the scenery and how we felt and all the people. It didn’t feel much different than our normal Saturday runs. Then we popped in our ear buds. The first 14 miles actually felt really good. We had a great pace, we felt good, and things were looking up.

Then came the half marathon/full marathon split, and we headed out to a very large out-and-back loop. A couple miles after that we started shutting down. I was starting to feel sick again, and Mindy’s knee was hurting really bad. We decided to walk for a bit. I dug more Advil out of my fanny pack, and Mindy stretched her knee. The feverish feeling was coming back for me. I was achey and starting to feel really cold again. I wanted to curl up in my bed and go to sleep. Finishing the last 12 miles was the LAST thing I wanted to do. Finishing the race started to feel completely overwhelming, and my body did not feel like it could stand the pain of another two hours.

I won’t lie. I started crying. Yes, folks. I cried because I was afraid I was going to have to  quit the race and fail to meet my goal. And I cried because I just felt so crappy. Everything hurt, the wind was cold, and I felt miserable, telling Mindy I didn’t know what to do. She was supportive, either way, which was so sweet of her. So we watched for race officials to go driving by, and I fully intended on flagging someone down.

But nobody came. (And that’s probably why they don’t, haha). We were a few miles out already on a big loop. So no matter what we did, we had a LONG way to go. Finally, I got tired of walking and waiting. I figured even if I run, it may be painful but I won’t die, and we’d get done faster. If anything, I could deal with being sick later. I just needed to get through the last 12 miles. So we popped our earbuds in again and started shuffling. It was so painful. It was miserable. It was completely mental. But we chose to move faster and to finish. We willed our aching bodies to GO. And they did. It was definitely a point in the race where I realized we were capable of more than we thought. About 8 miles to the finish, we looked at each other with a big smile because we knew it was in the bag. At every mile marker, we pounded fists in silence and kept trudging along.

One of the BEST parts of the race was being cheered on by strangers. At the advice of a friend, we used iron on letters (the adult equivalent of puffy paint, which we used in high school) to put our names on our shirts. SO many people along the sidelines cheered us on, and it was the best feeling. It kept us going. Even other runners cheered for us, telling us we were doing awesome, to keep it up, and to hang in there. The camaraderie was extraordinary, something I so love about running.

Oddly enough, the last five miles were the WORST. It was such a short distance to us, but it was so far and took so long.  Even when we could SEE the finish line, we were both really struggling and close to just stopping. About a quarter mile from the finish line, I saw my dad on the sidelines. I teared up, touched he had come to watch me finish.  As we crossed the finish line, we both hugged and started crying. We could not believe we were actually done. We had finished, having run most of the race without stopping. My friend Mandy was there with her son Broden to congratulate me with a big hug, which meant the world to me. His little smile lifted my spirits.  My husband Cody had come with my daughter Heidi, who was the one person I thought of most during the race. Her little face and her little smile and those little arms around my neck…I LIVED for those, and couldn’t wait to hug her when I was finished.

To say I’m proud I completed one of the biggest goals I’ve ever made for myself would be an understatement. I’m proud because we finished, and I’m proud because we raised money for Active Water. But one of the biggest things that hit me was that I DID IT. Something that took me half a year to train for and something that felt impossible…I did it. Plain and simple. I didn’t take off one day and do it without thinking. It took practice and planning and so much time. But it was possible. It empowered me to make a list of other goals I’ve tinkered with but never took seriously. It’s so easy to talk ourselves out of things. It takes too much time, I’m incapable, I have a baby at home, etc. But we CAN. It just takes time and effort. And if we’re not willing to put those things in, than it’s just an excuse.

As cliche as it sounds, it made me truly believe in myself. With some faith and effort, I can make an impact for good.

“I always loved running…it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.”   – Jesse Owens

The countdown begins!!!

T minus five days until Mindy and I take off on our first (and only…haha) marathon!! TWENTY SIX POINT TWO MILES. It’s a little too late to claim insanity and bail, so here’s how we are preparing for the big day!

• Fanny pack for cell phone, ID, and car keys. Check.
• Protein bars. Check.
• Awesome outfit. Check.
• Awesome socks. Check.
• Gatorade. Check.
• Carb-loading kick-off dinner at Mindy’s on Wednesday…complete with lots of garlic bread. Check.
• Knee brace. Check.
• iPod loaded and charged. Check.
• Chaffing cream. That’s Mindy’s job.
• Plans to pick up race packets on Friday. Check.
• Last long run this past weekend…8 miles. Check.
• Carb-loading. Check.
• Easy runs this week. Check.
• Carb-loading. (Can never be too sure). Check.
• Scanning/uploading pictures from high school track and cross-country. Mindy did this but I’ve yet to do it. Half-check.
• Nerves. Check.
• Carb-loading. Check.

Here we go, people!! This is your last chance to donate to an AWESOME cause. Help us put a well in Africa that will literally bring hundreds of people CLEAN WATER. Water they don’t have to walk miles for, water that won’t kill them, and water that will bring a community to life. Consider what you’ve been given in life, and make a gift in honor of all the beauty you enjoy every day. Click the link below.

http://www.active.com/donate/activewaterupick/jamierunsforwater

God is wonderfully generous by nature; to give is His delight. His gifts are immeasurably precious and are given as freely as the light of the sun. He gives grace to His own because He wills it, to His redeemed because of His covenant, to the called because of His promise, to believers because they seek it, to sinners because they need it. He gives grace abundantly, seasonably, constantly, readily, sovereignly; the value of the blessings is doubled by the manner in which it is given. c.h. spurgeon

I give up. I need a fanny pack.

Training is FINALLY all downhill here from here. Mindy and I had our last “longish” run last weekend (I realize this post is a TAD late). You know it’s sick and twisted when you’re like, “ONLY 12 miles? Best day ever!” We opted to go in the morning this time to get it out of the way.

Unfortunately, Heidi and I had a long night the night before. We found out last Friday morning the poor girl had a double ear infection (remember that stupid fever I blogged about? Yeah. That’s why). Even though they were infected, they didn’t start really bothering her until Friday night. She woke up screaming at 2am, and I suspect it’s because the Tylenol I gave her at bedtime had worn off. She not only screamed for quite some time, but refused to lay down and sleep. Afraid her ears were extremely painful on her side, I sat up with her until the new dose of Tylenol kicked in. So from 2am to 4am, I sat snuggled with her on the couch watching Sesame Street on Netflix and eating goldfish. So I guess it wasn’t so bad. But I was not about to miss my morning run.

Eight a.m. came. Much too quickly. Luckily Mindy texted me at 7:15 because I had turned my 6:30 alarm off in my sleep. I made some breakfast and coffee, met Mindy, and away we went.

This is hilarious because the first few miles, we seriously could not shut up. We were talking a mile a minute, laughing, giggling, etc. I think we were so ecstatic that we didn’t have to run for four  hours that we were high as kites.  Topics we discussed ranged from how our body image is shaped by the media (and Britney Spears), how our husbands always give our kids weird things to eat (a protein shake…”but with a banana!!!” and ice cream sandwiches), how we really have been trying to lose the baby weight but “food is like my passion,” and we also discussed ways to carry snacks with us at the marathon without wearing an actual fanny pack. We realized unless we wanted to run with food stuffed in our pants, we would probably have to buckle and buy the dreaded fanny pack. We also tried shot blocks this time, which are these little gummy energy things that apparently give you energy during a very long run. Mindy was the one who brought them, and as we both awkwardly sucked/chewed on them during mile 10, I asked her what was in them. She burst out laughing, saying she had no idea.  I was afraid maybe she had actually given me drugs.

During the last half of our run, we both pulled out our own iPods and ran in silence/blaring music. It was easy to know when one of us hit a really good song because then we would speed up for 3-5 minutes, leaving the other one to frantically skip songs until she hit a good one. My song of the morning was Billie Jean.

It’s been an awesome “easy week,” our longest run being only 6 miles. We have also discovered in the most recent Runners World magazine that we need to start carb-loading, not only the night before, but THREE NIGHTS BEFORE THE RACE.

Needless to say, this completely made our day. Pasta, bread, and all things carb, here we come!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are getting so close to our goal!! $2,365 has been donated, and $4,000 is my goal. Every single dollar counts. Please get us that much closer by  donating here: http://www.active.com/donate/activewaterupick/jamierunsforwater

 

Patience is a virtue (that I lack)

It’s been awhile since I wrote about something other than my marathon training. And let’s face it. Running can be boring. Not everyone needs to know that running 18 miles hurts my butt, thus, they can now donate to Active Water. (But…if you still do want to donate…CLICK HERE!!).

What I really want to talk about is motherhood. I had a bad mommy moment yesterday. I think we all know what those are. The moments when you smack your forehead with your hand and mumble in her head, “FAIL.” An example would be the time I forgot to strap Heidi into her umbrella stroller at the airport. Upon walking across the parking lot, she promptly threw herself forward and out of the stroller, landing FACE FIRST ON THE ASPHALT. I nearly died from guilt and embarrassment. I begged her forgiveness for days, even though she only cried for 30 seconds and didn’t even get a bruise.

Since I didn’t know I was about to have a bad mommy moment yesterday, I was really feeling like it was  just one of “those” days. By that I mean it was a day during which I promised myself I will NEVER intentionally have another child ever again. EVER. From about 10am on, Heidi and I were at each other’s throats.

I am usually pretty spoiled by my daughter. She eats well, sleeps well, plays well, and is on a schedule like clockwork. I typically become so accustomed to this that whenever we have an off day, I get frustrated. (And that, my friends, is what you call  a “spoiled brat.”)

So yesterday afternoon was very long. She had been very fussy during our morning outing, didn’t eat much for lunch, and was cranky that afternoon, refusing to nap.  We were both tired and angry by 2pm. She finally fell asleep around 3pm for a little cat nap. I took that time to make dinner, and when she woke up, I noticed she was very warm. She usually gets very hot when she sleeps, so I waited a bit to take her temperature.  Sure enough, about an hour later, her temperature was 101.

Needless to say, I felt like a big pile of stinking garbage. Here I was, getting upset with her all day, angry she ruined my plans, cranky because she wouldn’t nap, frustrated because she wasn’t happy, when all the while my poor girl was sick. BAD MOMMY MOMENT. I was so selfish and caught up in myself that I didn’t even take a moment to step back and assess that maybe my almost-always-happy-and-rested daughter simply wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t even notice she felt warmer than usual.

As soon as I realized she had a fever, I gave her some tylenol, wrapped her up in a blanket, got her a cup of milk and some goldfish, and watched Sesame Street with her on the couch. She leaned back on my chest, finally relaxed and probably thinking, “Finally, she gets it.” The rest of the evening, she was very quiet and snuggly, her fussiness having disappeared. I think she knew I finally got the picture.

I guess I always thought patience came natural to a mommy. I thought once I was a mom, I would naturally put my kid first ALWAYS, and I would be attentive and loving and caring at all times. But I’m still human. It’s too bad Heidi has to bare the brunt of my mistakes sometimes, but it’s a good thing she is such a resilient and forgiving kid. (See, that’s my way of teaching her FORGIVENESS…that was my original plan all along).

I’m learning patience is actually something I need to practice. A lot.

 ¹² Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved,
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility,
gentleness and patience. Colossians 3:12

Three hours of one-liners…

I have some big news! We finally reached the halfway mark in donations! My circle of generous family and friends have donated a total of $2,125 towards constructing a community well in Zambia, Africa. I am so thankful and flattered so many people have responded. At this point in my training, this is really the only thing keeping me going. The long Saturday runs have not only been tough on us physically, but they are even harder mentally. It’s been hard to give up four hours every Saturday afternoon away from our husbands and babies. Every single run, we’ll talk about new things Nolan and Heidi are doing, what perfect weather it is for the park, the pumpkin patch, a walk, etc. And almost every time, one of us will say how we wish we were at home playing with them. It would be a little better if 6am runs were possible, but with our husbands working weekends, it’s tougher to get out the door that early.

The good thing is that training is downhill from here. Yesterday, Mindy and I set out to run 20 miles. It took us a few minutes to figure out some routes we could add together to make that kind of distance. We finally figured it out. It involved running back and forth from each other’s houses, crossing a town limit (twice), trail runs through the leaves, street runs through traffic, and a couple neighborhood loops. Unfortunately, we had to cut our run two miles short. My right knee started hurting around mile 16. I walked a little to give it a rest, but I realized the pain wasn’t going away so we headed back. I was really disappointed, since we were set to finish our 20 miles in decent time. But Mindy convinced me two miles wasn’t worth messing up my knee for the race. I agreed and we still finished feeling pretty good about our 18 miles.

Now we begin to taper. It’s crazy the race isn’t until October 15th, and we are already slowing our training down to give our bodies a chance to rest. The longest run between now and our 26.2-mile race is 12 miles. That’s cake. Relatively speaking.

Just to give you an idea of what it feels like to run 18 miles, here are some things we said during those three and a half hours:

“My butt hurts.”

“I feel like a robot, like I’m not even moving. But I am.”

“I’m like…so mad right now.”

“I just want a Dr. Pepper. So bad.”

“OMG IT’S THE KRISPY KREME TRUCK!!” *lotsofwaving”

“I just feel like crying right now. I’m so emotional.”

“I’m NEVER doing this again.”

“I think my blood sugar is off.”

Jamie: “I just hurt everywhere and feel so nauseous when we get done with these runs. Ugh. I wonder what I’m doing wrong.”
Mindy: “You’re running 20 miles. That’s what you’re doing wrong.”

To donate, click here!! Even a dollar makes a difference. Promise. THANK YOU SO MUCH!