Green is definately his colour

This weekend, on May 19th, is mine and DH's 11th Wedding Anniversary.

And I'm going to let you in on  a little known fact.


It's actually not.

It's true, even ask my husband who had his security clearance papers returned because he used this date as his wedding date on his papers.

If you look at our Marriage Certificate, our actual anniversary is in March.

 Why, you ask?

Because we were 19.  We were broke.  We couldn't even afford an apartment and if we were going to be married and actually live together, we needed to live in military housing.

Military housing required a marriage certificate to place us on the waiting list for a house.

The waiting list was one month long.

Before we were married, I lived with my parents in a city about 3 hours away from him.  He lived in the single quarters on base.  It was not an option for either of us to move in with the other, so had we waited until our wedding to put in our names for a house, we would have had to wait a month in order to live together.  A month still being apart after our wedding.

We were a little unwilling to do that. 

So we went to the office of our Pastor with 2 of our friends and signed papers.  In our jeans a t-shirts.  With no one there but the required witnesses.  I think we might have gone out for lunch after. 

And that was that.

When I walked down the aisle at that fancy dream wedding I mentioned here, I wasn't scared he'd run. 

Technically, he was already my husband.

The army, it forced our hand and made us change our plans before we were even married.

And conveniently, it's been doing that ever since.

Like the 1st birthday party for our first child that we planned and planned and had 40 people invited over for when the call came and he left on 2 hours notice to fight forest fires.  The day before the birthday. And I hosted our first big even without him. 

The 10th anniversary he was almost home for before he got called to help with floods in another province.

The birthdays, father's days and anniversaries that we celebrate weeks before or after or not at all in order to accommodate an ever changing schedule.

Or these past couple months.

These past couple of months when I received his posting message the day after he left on training exercise.  When I met with a Relator, listed our house and sold our house alone.

When I arranged financing for our house hunting using a power of attorney, attended more meetings than I can even remember, made more decisions I ever care to make and spent more time at DH's work sending envelopes back and forth to him in the field than I ever have before.

Conveniently, now that the house is sold, financing is ready for the new house, the house hunting trip is booked and every single meeting has been attended and decisions made.... DH will come home this week.  And then we will leave together the next day to go house hunting.

Last week he sent me this picture.

 It's a good thing that man is sexy.

This was going to be an anniversary post.  I was struggling what to write, you can only write so many posts about how wonderful your husband is before he starts to get a big head people get bored.

Instead, I've been thinking a lot about something else.

Taking on all this when I agreed to be his wife, it has had some seriously crappy moments.

But I think I needed them.

While it's true that I met (and even dated a little) DH when we were 13, we went to different high schools and we didn't really connect together until around graduation.

DH and I had taken very different paths.

The Internet, well, it's forever.  And I'm not willing to share my whole path on it. 

But I will share this.

At 18, I already needed a second chance.

Hell, I needed a few.

And in strolled this 17 year old I had known since we were kids, and one night after being out with some friends he grabs hold of my face and he  asks me if I'm done.  He looks me in the eyes and he tells me that if I'll let him, he wants to take care of me.  He tells me he will marry me one day.

I think I might have laughed in his face.

He spend the next better part of a year proving he meant it. 

I treated him terribly.

I told him things just to hurt him.  I did things just to see if he would care. 

I strung him along and I cut him down and refused to see what was staring me in the face.

He loved me. 

And he knew, he trusted, that I could do what I needed to do to see the other side of whatever was holding me back.

I pray every day my kids find love like that.

He told me, beside the car as he left for basic training, as I stared wide eyed at him actually leaving, that if he for one second thought I couldn't do what I needed to do on my own, he would be home, in a second.  But he knew I could.

And I did.

Last week, I had a little overblown no-hold barred hissyfit moment of indecision.

And in one of the precious few phone calls DH and I have been able to have since he left for training, I told him there was no way I could finish this.  I got a little PMSy weepy and I told him I didn't understand how he thought I would get all this accomplished.

And he told me, in the middle of a pretend firefight in some field in rural Alberta, as I sniffled on the phone, that if he for one second thought that I couldn't do what I needed to do on my own, he would be home in a second.  But he knew I could.

And the truth is, PMS aside, I knew I could too.

11 years marriage has taught me a lot about relationships and love and all those things you would expect.

But it's taught me something else, too, that it wouldn't have if I wasn't married to a man who does what DH does.

It has taught me that I can do a whole lot more that I thought I could.

It has taught me to rely more on God that anyone else around me.

It has taught me to be me.
 
It has also taught be how easy it is to sell a house and take out an exorbitantly large amount of credit on my husband's account.

Like I said.

It's a good thing that man is sexy.

But really, what's up with the baseball bat?

Dear Edmonton,

In a couple months, we will be moving away.

Now, I know you don't really care.  You're a big city.  People come and go every day.  I'm sure you have better things to think about, like trying to recruit hockey players that might help your team win.

We're just one family.  And technically, we don't even live inside your city limits, though we shop, work and play there.  But we thought we'd let you know, we're leaving.

It's been fun.

Even though I had lived the 10 years previous in Calgary, I have to admit I had never been to see you before DH was posted here.  And living those 10 years in Calgary, well, honestly?  I wasn't expecting much. 

Once I spent 18 months back and forth visiting DH before our wedding, I learned a few things.

You have a big mall.  You have a little tiny zoo.  You have roads named after hockey players and I hear you also have a team.  I never understood why but you have a really big rotating baseball bat but no baseball team.  You have Save on Foods, but no Co--op.  You have a beautiful river valley, your people work hard and it used to be really frustrating to get from the north to the south quickly.  Thanks for making that ring road right when we leave, by the way.

You also have a Canadian Forces Base.

And it is for that reason that in 2001, after I wed my love, I came to call you home.

Edmonton, I fear I knew as little as you did about the military when I got here.  Sure, my new husband wore a uniform, but that's where that ended.

I knew, I mean, in theory, that if there was a war, he would leave.
I knew.
I mean, I had to know that, right?

If something terrible were to happen, these soldiers that called the base in Edmonton home, they would go fight for this country.  We had to have known that, right Edmonton?

And yet, as I came, a 20 year old fresh out of college Social Worker ready to take on this city, I didn't think much of it.  DH was away a lot, soldiering competitions and exercises.  But it was still... a job.

And then, after a night shift working at your Woman's Shelter, someone called me just as I was falling asleep at home.  A plane had crashed, that's all they said.  I did not want to wake up.  It didn't sound like a world changing event.

But something caused me to turn on the TV instead of going back to sleep.  Just in time to see the second plane hit.

After that, Edmonton, I think our lives changed together a little.

That base with all those soldiers just outside your borders, IT changed.

It locked down.  Activity was a flurry.  DH was away at the time and I remember not knowing for a couple days where he had ended up. 

A few months later, the entire City it seemed stood with me as I watched his bus pull away and he headed off to war.

And those next 6 months and the following years, Edmonton, I watched a city change.  Your support campaigns, your Salutes program, your pride.... that all came in time.  The first time I saw a yellow ribbon on someone who was not military I was confused.  Now they are everywhere.  When I watched you line the streets when that first bus came home in 2002... I knew you were different.


Instead of being a city that happens to have a base nearby, you became the proud home of Canadian Forces Base Edmonton. 

Do you remember in 2002 when the guys came home and you had a parade?  I remember thinking how silly it seemed to make them march through the streets for you when they had just got home.  But As I watched, I saw this was for them too.  There were thousands of you at that parade. With homemade signs and Canada flags.   And I sat on those bleachers looking around with pride.
 (And looking like I might go into labour at any second.  I finally sat on the grass in exhaustion trying to find DH when it was all done and one of your citizens searched uniforms frantically to try and find him for me just to avoid me giving birth right there.  If you look, I'm the red dress in the crowd on the right).

I've met a lot of amazing people.  People who have shovelled my walk for me when DH has been gone.  People who have bought DH coffee.  People who have  been there cheering at Military Appreciation days, people who have been there in silence on Remembrance Day.

And all the people who touched me, well, they weren't always the people you might expect.

I still remember tears running down my face in the lobby of the Women's Shelter, while homeless and exploited women with more struggles than I could even imagine held my hand as the news on the little TV showed the caption 'Our Soldiers At War' and I saw DH who I hadn't heard from in 2 weeks getting off a plane onto the sand for the first time.  For a moment, I was not their care worker but they were mine, and I have never been so blessed to be surrounded by such compassion.

In April of 2002, when there were those first 4 casulaties of the war, I will never forget the feeling of walking into that memorial and looking up from where we sat as military families, to see thousands of ... civilians.  People with no military connection, nothing to gain by being there.  They were there to mourn with us. 

You stepped up to the plate, Edmonton.

When I was pregnant with my first in 2002, I remember the looks of the doctors and nurses.  They didn't understand why I was alone.  They didn't know how to help.

By the time I had my 3rd during DH's 3rd deployment, those same doctors and nurses had it down to an art.  How many babies had they delivered while Dad was at war?  They knew what calls to make, where computer hookups were if that was an option... I even received a homemade quilt with DH's tour dates on it as a gift from a group of ladies who just... do that.  How amazing is that?

All of Canada has shown us some love.  Have you ever seen the Thank A Soldier website?  It blows my mind that this guy, and people like him, aren't even military.  They just want to do something.  That's amazing.  But Edmonton, you have shown to be among the best.

Sure, there was that time someone saw my military sticker on the car and told me my husband was a baby killer and then spat on my tires.

But you get crazies everywhere.

Those times will never out number the smiles, the handshakes, the genuine appreciation that we have seen by your people in the time we have lived here.

That very first tour, I painted a banner to hang when the guys came home and walked with other wives around the base tying ribbons.  Now, there's people who volunteer to do that stuff.  There's radio stations that cover the departures and reunions.  You tell the stories in your papers about the Military Competitions and the other positive stuff that happens on the base.  You host military appreciation days at hockey and football games and well, mostly, you just make it known that you are a city proud of it's soldiers.

You lost 40 Soldiers in this war, Edmonton.  You've seen so many more come back wounded.  This war hasn't just changed the military community (and it has done that, you have no idea how much).  It's changed you.

You had a choice, Edmonton, to pretend this war and these soldiers had nothing to do with you, or to embrace them as your own, and you stepped up.

So now, as I came as this all began, we leave as this chapter is seemingly coming to a close.

Canada's combat role in this war is over.

Edmonton, it is so easy to forget.  It is so easy to let these past 10 years fade into the background and go back to just being a city with a base up here.

But you have shown you can be more.  

CFB Edmonton is home to the 1 Combat Engineers, the 1st and 3rd Princes Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, 1 Military Police, 1 Service Battalion, 742 Signals, 408 Helicopter Sqn and the Lord Strathcona's Horse (RC) Armoured Regiment.  (And others I am sure I have missed).

Since the war began, there has ALWAYS been soldiers, either a whole battle group or individual units, deployed to fight.

And I can't emphasise enough that even as this chapter of the war comes to an end, these soldiers will still be here.

Please.  Please, don't forget them.

They don't need your discounts (though they are super awesome nice).  They don't want your sympathy or your hand outs.

Just don't let them fade into the background of your city again.

For some families, the demons of the war are still very much a reality for them.  They deserve continued love.  For others, they will settle here into civilian lives, looks for jobs and friends and being a part of your community.  They deserve to be welcomed. Soldiers will continue to move in and out of your city as, while this combat in Afghanistan may have ended, the many many other roles and responsibilities of the soldiers of this country have not.  They will still be here and the deserve to be noticed.

And for some of us, part of this life means it's time for us to move on.

Edmonton, it was here I learned to be an adult.  To get my first real job.  To be married.  To be a mom.

It was here I learned what it really meant to be an army wife.

I think at the same time, you learned what it really meant to be a military city.

 We're on our way out, for now, Edmonton, but we'll be back.

Thanks for being awesome, despite what Calgary said about you.  

~Us

So tell me , what has your city or town done that is awesome lately?
 At least tell me something... I like comments :)

An Ode to an Imperfect House

This week, fancy pictures, slide shows and virtual tours set to music made their way on this Internet in an effort to sell our home.

Our Realtor came and looked around, decided the 'market value' and all the things he could write about on MLS.  Then he sent a photographer to come and take pictures.  And voila, just like that, our home is out there, showcasing it's best features for the world to see and (hopefully) someone to want.  Quickly.  Anytime now.  That would be great.

But the 'features' of our home could be up for debate.  While I won't argue that new paint and wainscoting and laminate floors are all well and good, none of my favorite things about my house are listed. 

9 years ago right before DH left for his first tour in Afghanistan, we found out we were expecting.  We lived in this tiny little PMQ at the time and it just wasn't going to cut it with a baby.  Base housing was phasing out to a civilian company so an upgrade was not in our future, we started looking to buy a house. 

We had virtually no money and it seemed a loss cause as we looked at places in the city.  Then another soldier DH worked with let him know they were selling their place.  We could afford this place, it was a starter sized home out of the city in a little town.  The best part was they wanted to move out when they returned from tour, which was when we wanted to move in.  Perfect! 

We never even had a Realtor or looked at another place.  We walked through their house, shook hands, signed some papers and at 20 years old we were all of a sudden not only soon to be parents but also soon to be homeowners!

7 weeks after DH's got home from Afghanistan, 6 weeks after our first was born, we moved our little belongings into our new digs.  After living in the teeny Q, it seemed huge!  For 6 months, we called the front room the 'meditation room' because we didn't have any furniture to put in it.  With 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms and 4 levels, it was almost palatial.

Since then, it has certainly seemed to shrink as more children have been added.  We are maxed out bedroom wise, with our boys sharing a room and Drama sleeping in the little office sized bedroom that only recently (when we posted to sell) got an actual door that wasn't a window.  All the little annoyances about the house pick at me, like they do to anyone who lives anywhere for a while. 

We have lived in this home longer than any military family should live anywhere.  by the time we leave it will have been almost 10 years.  And those fancy perfect pictures on MLS are not what I will remember about this place. 

I will remember the Nursery.  All 3 of my kids started out there once they left our room.  I will remember running in when Drama's apnea monitor would go off, usually because she rolled off it.  I will remember staring with my head against the glass door watching Freckles like only a new first time mom does, half asleep and exhausted but wondering why the baby hasn't woken up yet.

I will remember how we decorated the room so perfectly for Drama because, well, when your kid's name is an actual plant, theme decorating is super easy. 

And then I will remember how I was so exhausted when we learned Monster was coming, we never changed it.  And he had the most beautiful, flowery nursery until he was old enough to move in with his brother.

It's been a Veggie Tale themed nursery and toddler room for Freckles, a sweet and flowery baby girl room for Drama, back to Monster's nursery before it is now her room again.  With the perfect princess chandelier.

I will remember the 'guest room'.  It didn't last as a guest room long, once Drama came along and Freckles moved in.  When we installed this special light switch so our vertically challenged Freckles could turn on his own light.  And how crazy he drove us when he would turn it off and on when he was supposed to be going to sleep. 

And then I will remember how it became both a little boys and a little girl's room after Monster was born.  And poor Freckles had to have Drama come learn to sleep in a big-kid bed in the bunk under him, only to a year and a half later do the same thing with Monster.


I will remember the master bedroom.  All the different ways I would shift it around and change the layout and try to make it feel just a little bit bigger.  The fancy sleigh bed we had for a couple years before we realized that having it up against the window just meant the kids would jump from the window ledge onto the bed until the frame was broken in half (I swear, that's what happened and I'm sticking to it!).

How when DH was gone for one anniversary I painted over the bright colour I liked to the neutral colour he liked and made this focus wall for when he came home.  I've slept in this room alone more often than not the past 10 years, but it's always been our room.

I'll remember this corner of the kitchen.  It's where I stand while I wait for the kettle to boil while I am half asleep.  Mugs in the corner cabinet and the marble rolling pin that I registered for our Wedding for and then wondered, what the heck does one need with such a heavy rolling pin if not to hit people with?  

And this spot at the table, with my newspaper on my Kindle while I take a moment to eat my oatmeal and get my brain to a functioning level before I send the kids off to school.  I always have an abundance of apples. 

I'll remember this window in my front room.  It's where I sit to wait for Monster's bus after school.  On bad nights when DH was gone it's where I would be, petrified I would see a car full of soldiers pull around the corner. 

Since we have lived here our street went from a dead-end to a through road with cul-de-sacs and new houses far as the eye can see.  We've watched them all appear.  

I'll remember this view down the stairs to the rec room.  I'll remember how when we first moved in we decided to finish the basement and paint it fire engine red.  With cheap paint that looked so bad after 4 coats I eventually just sponged it on in the hopes I could just give in and make it look like it was supposed to be blotchy.  It didn't work.  A couple years ago we finally painted over it, last year we added the wainscoting and we got that part finished just last month.  10 years it took us to make the basement look the way we wanted it to in the first place.

 

 This is the view I get when I peek in on the kids down there.  This one is playing a game and knows his time for that is limited.  This is also the view I have while being scowled at when I yell down that they need to figure it out themselves before I come down and break the Wii into tiny little pieces.

Maybe more than any other spot, I will remember this one.  I'm a bath person, not a shower one.  After becoming a person who runs, that has become even more pronounced.  I often spend the last 3k imagining how wonderful my bath and cup of tea are going to feel at home.  Even in the tub that I share with the creepy Ariel doll that occasionally gets her hair in her face and looks like the girl from the Ring.

And finally, well, this is where I sit now.  Where I think, where I hope to come up with some answer to an email, courage to make a phone call or or the ending to a blog post.  With a basket full of white fluffy blankets (I have no idea why but I just can't get enough of those), the chair rail we just finished painting even though it got put up years ago and my feet up on the table in my fuzzy socks.

A home is not the place you see lited on the Internet when it's for sale.  I almost wish I could sit down with the people who own whatever house we will choose to buy, and ask her where her favorite places to be were. 

We all have things we would change about our house, we live here and we know all it's flaws.  But there's a beauty in a building that has seen this family grow up for 10 years that can't be put in some full-colour showing brochure. 

I hope the next family finds it too. 

For the love of Clay Monkeys

There's this girl I know....

And by know, I mean, met on the Internet.

Does that make me weird? 

Meh.

Anyways, in the bloggy world she's a rarity like me.  A Canadian Military wife.  But that's not what her blog is about.  It's about clay monkeys and stuff.  Which is way funnier.

Lately, she has been doing this series where she writes about a letter of the alphabet each day.  So far, it's been in order but I'm just waiting to see when she's gonna go ahead and switch it up to throw us all off.  She's crazy like that. 

Well, this last post was awesome fantastic.  Read it here.  Then come back.  Please come back?  I promise you can go back to her blog after.....

Clay Baboons

So, I mentioned to her after that when I read this post, while waiting an unrealistically long time at Service Canada to submit passport applications, only to be told that my two youngest's pictures were rejected because it 'looked like they were trying not to smile....', I may have laughed out loud and peed my pants a little.

That's right. 

I have never had the experience of struggling to conceive.  I feel a little guilty about that, if you remember this post.

Possibly because of that,  I don't have the urge to pee on anything.

BUT, when I mentioned my pants-peeing incident to Stephanie, she said she didn't know that happened to people, cause, you know, people don't talk about those things enough.

So, since I think it takes courage for someone to write an honest, funny but a little bit heartbreaking blog about trying to concieve, I am going to write a blog for Stephanie about a different but the same type problem.  Now, I can't make little clay figures.  I'm a litle concerned they might be needed to make this kind of thing ok.  So I'm going to randomly pull Internet photos to illustrate since I am worried that without illustrations, it might be awkward.  The illustrations will somehow make the difference.


And through this show-of-pee-support blog, I believe that me and my readers, we're gonna get closer.  That, or you will run away screaming.  In fact, you might want to just go ahead and do that now, before the big reveal....

Having babies broke my bladder.

http://www.soyouwanna.com/images/bladder-problems-10296.jpg

It's ok, I forgave them.  But it's true.  I am 31 years old and have the bladder control of a 90 year old.

This didn't happen overnight... 
After I had my first, I remember talking to other older moms as they laughed about not being able to jump on trampolines without peeing themselves.  And I laughed.  I thought to myself  
'I do my kegals.  I will be just fine!'

But, in fact, I was not.

Now, how often does someone who is not in the circus jump on a trampoline?  So this wasn't that concerning.

After my second, I realized that sneezing, jumping and laughing were also going to be a problem.  But this seemed to be a common theme among moms, so I encouraged myself to continue with my kegals and move on with life.

But then after my third, things got a little more embarrassing.

The list of exercises that were off limits started to grow.  Jumping jacks.  Burpies.  Jump rope...

I started to have trouble even making it through a run.  I kept having the realization when I got home that sitting down was going to have to wait until I changed my pants.  I didn't have any control over it anymore.

They sell stuff for this, did you know that?  There's a whole market of 'discrete' little hygiene products that you can wear to avoid embarrassing moments.  They even have cute little ads that remind me of tampon commercials geared towards ladies who are past menopause.

http://www.poise.com.au/assets/0000/0480/posie-mobile-image-overlay.jpeg

So I stopped my next grocery shopping trip and I picked some up.

Nothing says cool like 'I got Poise in my cart' cool.

That next week, I dropped Drama at her art class at the Family Resource Center and used my hour to go for a quick run on the trail around the base.

Rounding the corner into the building to pick her back up, I realized my adorable little products had not done their jobs.  I was soaking wet to my knees.  And I still had to go to her class and sign her out.

Now, I'm not easily embarrassed.  But this time....  I decided to head to the doctor.  Cause what's less embarrassing?  Explaining to my very sweet, male,  South African GP that I think there might be something wrong with me because I can't stop peeing my pants.  Ya.  That was better.

I got a prescription for something to help while I waited for a specialist appointment.  When I picked it up from the adorable young pharmacist, she gave me the saddest look.  I told her childbirth was a terrible, terrible thing that she should avoid at all costs.

Looking back, that might have been a *tad* dramatic.  But leaving with a perscription box of pills that has pictures of 80 year old on it and instructions for taking with post-menopausal hormone replacement therapy hadn't left me in my happy place.


Since then, I have gotten better.  I seem to have figured out how to avoid the situation getting too out of control.  I have pit stops at houses, churchs, and convenience stores all mapped out when I go out on long runs. 

Eventually, my specialist told me what I had kinda figured.  

My babies broke my bladder.

And it can be surgically fixed.  But waiting lists are long and race season is soon.  

So expect to see me come race day, thanking the Lord for black pants and praying for rain. 

Now, if only I could sing....

So, I randomly at the recommendation of others, download music to run to.

I rarely listen to the radio or watch TV, so I never know any new music.  If they don't play it in Spin class or while I'm at the grocery store, chances are I haven't heard it.  So my repertoire of music written after 1999 is generally techno and elevator music.

So I usually google running music and download what people suggest.  Then if I don't like it, I just delete it.  Eventually.  More likely, I never get around to deleting it and then get annoyed with myself every time I'm out and have to listen to it again.

Well, for some bazaar reason, someone recommended a country song.  And it's really more of a love song, not a very fast song... I have no idea why they recommended it for running.

And truth is I have heard it before, vaguely, it's Lady Antebellum (which I never understood, it's not just one chick that's the name of the whole band?).  I don't generally listen to country music, but this one is decent, as far as the whole genre goes. 

It came on my headphones on my run this morning, and while I was thinking of things I needed to get done as this week DH heads training for several weeks, I couldn't help but think that while the song is all well and good, their reasons for needing their love differ from mine on a daily basis.

Sure, I can be all romantic and such, but I am pretty sure I would write the song differently. If I could write songs.  Which I cannot.  But if I could, they would be song about love after kids and morgages and life happens.  You know, when just being desperately and hopelessly lovesick isn't the main reason you find yourself missing your lover.

So I did rewrite it, in my head.  Cause that's what I do at 5:30 a.m. while I'm running the same streets of my town for the millionth time.

To save you the pain, I'm going to go ahead and NOT sing it.  But I will include this video so you can get the tune, in case you get out even less than I do and don't know it.



My new lyrics....  (which sounded way funnier before dawn this morning than they do now as I type them....)

I Need You Now

Little tiny Lego heads scattered all around the floor
 I've given up on cleaning, cause I just can't fight it anymore
And I wonder if you'll be able to call at all
For I think I'm going to lose my mind

It's a quarter after one, there's 2 kids in our bed and I need you now
Have no way to call but the smallest just threw up and I need you now
And I don't know why I put up with this
I just need you now

Now baby's crying and I just want to sleep for one hour more
 Cause I just can't watch dance for even just one hour more
And I wonder if you'll be able to call at all
For I think I'm going to lose my mind

It's a quarter after one, I think I heard a noise and I need you now
Have no way to call but the minivan broke down and I need you now
 And I don't know why I put up with this
 I just need you now

woah woaaah.

Guess I've only got a few month left to go.....

It's a quarter after one, I just finished cleaning puke and I need you now

And I have no way to call but I can't work the PVR and I need you now

And I guess I know why I put up with this

I just need you now

At least kid's shoes come in cute colours....

Did you ever come late to the party?

I do.

All.  The.  Time.

Like Pinterest. 
Also known as 'impossible ideals for all situations.com'.]
I came late.  I visited obsessively.

http://pinterest.com

I already feel it judging me.

And after a month that seems to be lost in time, my mind seems to have taken Pinterest to heart.

I have a brain full of pictures of unachievable ideals and disappointment that nothing I do seems to measure up to them.

This month has been less than ideal.  And while DH has been home, we have been prepping our house for a move that has yet to move from the 'likely' to the 'definately' category.

But my lack of patience is a whole 'nother post.

Let is suffice to say that my answer to virtually every question I am asked ends with 'I have no idea what our plan is.'  And that, my friends, make me a cranky girl.

I hate painting, but we've been doing lots of it.  Along with minor repairs and little fixes to make this place market-worthy.  Or at least as market-worthy as a house can look when DH heads on training and I enter the world of solo-parenting 3 kids during Dance Festival Season.

Yes, Dance Festival Season is where I doll up my 6 year old like 'Toddlers in Tiaras' and take her out of school for dance recitals.  Cause apparently you don't get to pick the activities that make your kids happy.

So take one Spring Break lost to home improvement.  Add in some way overly dramatic frustration over having to hurry up and wait and throw in a few other, less exciting glitches.

Like a fancy new phone that keeps losing service when I need it.

A lack of ability to find freakishly small running shoes when I wear a kids size 3.

 Phone calls from Monster's specialists at school that come back with phrases like 'mental health assessment required' and 'schedualing a cognitive assessment' that make me feel a little like I'm in over my head with a 4 year old.  I shudder at the idea of what teenagers will do to me.

Realizing that we forgot to call someone to deliver gravel for our parking space in the back alley around the same time my van gets stuck in the mud in the parking space in the back alley.

I'm been feeling.... done.

Hence why I've been staring at the screen forever, unable to think of a single thing to write that makes and sense or is of any use to anyone to read.

As a family, we tried a lot of different things to try and feel a little less strung out.

There's been plenty of this.

and some of this

and sure, all those things were great times as a family.  And they resulted in some fabulous moments

But the other day, I ran a half marathon distance for the first time ever.  21k in a training run.

And I should have been happy and accomplished about it.

But instead my heart was consumed with little 'pins' of Running Magazines and the speeds/distances/paces that I did NOT keep.  Personal bests I should be able to achieve if I just tried harder. 

And it was filled with loathing at the extra weight I have put on during my training.  All those little 'pins' of beautiful woman with bodies that don't look like mine, steering my heart toward bitterness that I don't "look" like a runner.

And it was focused on house prices and the extra bedroom and garage that we 'need', how much we have to spend on a new vehicle and a list of the features we 'couldn't live without', and the many, many other standards I have not met.

So all that I said before about Pinterest, it might not be all the website.

 It's the state of my heart.

Before the Walk of the Cross on Good Friday, I ran every single sidewalk stone in my little town.  For over 2 hours I put one foot in front of the other, for longer and farther than I ever have before.

And I heard a Voice say something.

I'm Still Here.

At the very moment that I was telling Him that He was not enough, He was holding me up to show me that He is more than enough.  He is all I need.

Another movie day, another meal out, another date night.... that's not going to 'fix' anything.  It has nothing to do with my schedule or my to-do list.

It has everything to do with the things I am relying on to make things work, and the One I am pushing aside while I look for the answer.

Lately, I am terribly annoying to be around.  I even piss myself off.  I'd like to say that by the time I got home on Good Friday I had my head back out in the sunshine, but that's not even close to the truth.

The truth is I have been searching for Home when I've been living there for years.

The truth is I already know where to look to find everything I need.

The truth is....  it's easier to look everywhere else.  To become consumed on avoiding the dips in the road that you can't take your eyes off them to look up for the directions.

I already know where to find peace.  And I know it is there.

Even for people like me who can't stop pinning the new runners in some kind of sick hope that they will magically appear in child sizes.

http://star-someday.blogspot.ca/2012/01/im-in-love-quote-mood-yaya-i-invinted.html

What I learned before 5am

So I have these friends...

And lately, things kinda really a whole lot suck for them.

I wish they were closer.  I could bring over chocolate and coffee and just BE their friend.  But  a while back they followed God's call somewhere else.  It makes the suck that much.... suckier. (I should really invest in a thesaurus.)

I was thinking about these friends while I was running this past week.

Lately, I've been getting up really, really early to run.  I have no idea why the time change had the opposite effect on me than it should have, but I get up earlier than I ever did before.

Last Friday, I was up before the clock hit 5.

That's right, my alarm was set to a time that started with a 4.

How sick is that?

But I need to get out and back before my hubby leaves for work.  And apparently I decided to start that habit the week DH had to be at work a little earlier than usual.  So to be home for him to leave at 6, I needed to be out the door before 5.

It's a different little town I live in before 5 a.m.

Dead silent.
Dark.
But not the 8p.m. dark when it still feels like the light is lingering even though it's long gone. 
5am dark is even darker.  It's the dark with the anticipation of the sunrise that's still a couple hours away.

I wanted to share with my friends what I have learned on these early morning runs.  And just for fun, lets share that with you, too.

My big epiphany?

I am louder at 5 a.m.

Profound isn't it?

But I never noticed my footsteps before.

I run with music.  Loud music.
It keeps me on pace.  It drowns out the noise.
But drowning out the noise is less necessary when it's so very quiet.
So with quieter music, all of a sudden I could hear my own steps.
And for a while, I could swear everyone in their homes could hear me.  I could picture them in their beds, wanting to throw rocks at whoever was waking them up at such a terrible time.  In my head, I sounded like a herd of elephants.

I was running the same speed and tempo and making the same noise that I would be doing at my regular time.  But then, others were out.  They were getting in their cars, walking their pets, driving by, living their lives...and my steps, they didn't stand out from the rest of the wold stepping around me.

Before 5am? I sounded loud because everyone else was silent.

Sometimes, when we are walking our path, when we are following God's call, we are surrounded by others, following their own calling.  We are still doing what we are supposed to be doing, but there are others beside us.  Individually, we aren't making as much noise, God has called us to work as part of a bigger plan.

But sometimes, we are called somewhere that there is no one else to run with.  It's hard to be doing what no one else is.  Your average person (myself included) thinks getting up a 0 dark stupid to go for a run is a ludicrous idea.  And walking through life when it seems the world around you thinks the stands you are taking, the path you are following, the Cross you cling to is foolishness...

It can feel like we are making so much more noise. 

That's because we are the light in a world that is sleeping.  

We are always that light.

But the darker the world, the brighter (and louder) we seem.

It's easier to run in a group mid-morning when the birds are chirping and the world is singing around you.
But getting out of bed when all the smart people are still sleeping and head out in the cold, you have to be a whole lot more committed than the average sane person is to running.

It's easier to follow a call when friends are following beside you.  When you get there and the others have the same passion and commitment it makes a huge difference.
But when you are that one Freak clinging to Jesus while being called out and called names by the sleepy people for waking them up?
Many of us would give in and try to tippy-toe through the rest of our run to make sure we didn't disturb anyone else.
It takes a true commitment to God's call to remember that it is better to allow them to be angry that you woke them, than to let them stay sleeping.

Eventually my friends are going to see others.  Maybe not many, maybe not for a good while, but you will inspire other people to step out in the dark and the cold and get a little loud.  It may very well be after your time on that road is done, but that's okay.

A sleeping world can't help but notice the freaks in their running shoes before dawn.

I wish we could run beside you for a while.  I really do.  If nothing else I could cause a scene to make you less conspicuous.  I'm good at that.