Sunday, September 4, 2011

On the Water

The other night some friends took me and the kids out on their boat.  It's just a little Boston Whaler, more of a fishing boat, really, but the kids were super psyched. It was a first for them.  Things started out a little rough - and I don't mean the waves.  Pixie got out there okay, but when we were sitting on the boat ready to head out, she Freaked. Capital "F' freaked.  But we rolled with it - my friends didn't hesitate, which I appreciated.  I think if for one second we had stopped to try to calm her down we would never have left the beach.  Although she gripped my pants hard enough to leave a permanent wrinkle, once we got moving, she had a great time.  Such is often the case with my little Miss.  (Wonderboy, however, steered the boat "going 40mph!!" so no worries there!)

What our little roundabout in the Bay really reminded me of was how much I love and miss getting out on the water.  My parents bought our sailboat when I was really little - maybe even the year I was born, I'm not sure.  When I was cognizant enough to know what was going on, I hated it.  My Mom and Dad had to promise a trip to McDonald's in order to get me to go.  I was scared of the boat tipping over - no matter how many times my Dad told me it would never do that.  So as we rowed back to shore from the mooring I would be giving my Mickey D's order to my exhausted parents.  I was good like that.

As I got older, I did learn to appreciate the sailboat. (And stopped insisting on McDonald's on the way home.) I loved our time on it, in fact.  I never really learned how to be a sailor though.  I could hoist the sail and work the tiller if needed.  But I didn't get all the lines and when to tack and all that jazz-a-ma-jazz.  Even without knowing all the intricacies - I loved that boat.

So much so, that when it came to a point when my Dad couldn't sail it on his own (we were all older at this point and living our own lives that didn't involve weekends on the old Erikson 27'), he decided to sell it and I was so hurt.  The boat was such an important part of our lives when my Mom was alive, you see, that it felt like a part of me was being ripped away.  I said I would take it, fix it, whatever it needed....But my Dad was right.  The boat, at that time, was old and the work needed would cost a fortune.  It just wasn't worth it.  A bitter pill for me to take.

Being on the water with our friends made me want to give that experience to my kids so much.  I don't want my daughter to be scared of boats.  I wish I could give them what my parents gave me.  Time together that was so precious.  'Cause where were you gonna go in the middle of the Bay?  I'll never forget my Dad telling me how he and my Mom would leave the house with a couple bucks in their pocket, some food from home and off we'd go for the weekend, out on the boat.  Imagine that?

Financially, I don't know if it will ever be possible for us to own a boat.  But I know one thing, any chance I get to expose my kids to being on the water - I'm taking.  For them...and for me.

Monday, May 16, 2011


My first official 5k race time.  I've kept up with it, have run that distance more then once, actually.  But the first race is definitely something I will never forget.  My sister C. and good friend J. ran with me.  (They are "real" runners.  I still feel like a bit of a pretender. Which I know I'm not really - but J. has run the NYC marathon for heaven's sake and C. has finished a triathlon and is training for a half marathon. You get the idea.) 

They stayed with me and my slow pace though, even if they were chatting the entire time! Even up a damn hill that left me huffing and puffing.  But we finished strong, and together.  Even though the race results had C. finishing two minutes behind me. HA!

My first race number.  I thought it was a good one.  Thirty-one was a good year.

I plan to have another one in June, and hopefully just keep adding to the pile.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

The comedy and tragedy...of Pokemon

A few nights ago as The Mr. and I were settling into bed, Wonderboy calls out and, "Wants to talk to Daddy."  With the heavy sigh of dealing with the umpteenth stalling tactic, my husband goes into his room to find out what he needs.  Next thing I hear is the unmistakeable sounds of the Wonderboy ramping himself up into an emotional frenzy.  The Mr. comes back into our room.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Apparently, WB loaned his giant Pokemon card to Sam last week and now Sam won't give it back."

Not three minutes go by before WB is now in our bedroom, continuing his tale of woe.  We manage to get out of him that he loaned this card (purchased for him as a gift by his Grandfather for receiving Student of the Month) to Sam and when he asked for it back, Sam kept putting him off.  Of course, righteous indignation asserts itself in The Mr and me.  We're giving each other the, "What a little jerk" eyeballs over WB's head as he continues his sob-story.

But then, of course, the plot thickens.  It turns out that you are not supposed to bring Pokemon cards to school, something the WB knows.  He just couldn't resist bringing in the illicit goods in to show off to his friends.  The card was loaned to Sam, with the understanding that it would be returned at the end of the week.  When WB asked for it back, Sam threatened to tell the teacher that WB had brought it to school.  (So, essentially, still a little jerk.)

Now getting in trouble at school is one of WB's biggest fears.  Not the simple, "be quiet" kind of trouble, but Serious Trouble.  And he knew he was courting danger bringing in the cards as he had already been told once not to have them at school. So the frustration over not getting his most special card back was countered by the absolute terror of getting busted.  All of this we learned through many tears and the hitching of breath that comes with such emotional strain.

We talk it out.  WB must approach Sam again.  He should tell him, in his own words, that he is not being a very nice friend.  We give him permission to use the "My parents will call your parents" threat if he has to. (Of course, he wanted us to do the dirty work for him and asked if we could call Sam's Mom then and there!)  We held firm that he needed to try to figure this out himself and if Sam threatened to tell again that WB should let him. (Ha! We'll call your bluff you little bleepedy-bleep!) That suggestion had the effect of somebody dousing you with ice-cold water while you were sleeping.  Once we put WB's eyeballs back in his head, we explained that it would be better for him to be honest and apologetic with his teacher instead of afraid.

He finally calmed down and with many declarations of The Mr. and me being, "really awesome" and "the best," he finally went to sleep.

The next day when I picked him up from school, he very proudly told me that Sam had given him the card back. Of course he used the parental threat, but the fact was, he did it.  I was proud of him. 

Or, you know, as proud as I can be over a kid who breaks school rules and is foolish enough to loan out his most prized Pokemon possession. 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Reason #45,6780,478... hate New England winters.  Last week we were riding bikes and I was out running with no coat on.

Today?  We woke up to this:

Now, while I won't deny that it is pretty

you know these poor things are thinking,

Excuse me, what the f*ck just happened here!?!!?
Hell, even this guy is like,
 Really? Was this absolutely necessary?

Friday, March 18, 2011

So...ya know....What's been happening?

Wow. That was quite a break.  Not really sure why I'm writing today, and can't promise I won't go away for a long time again.  But hey, I'm here now.  Technically, I'm at work now.  And ten minutes ago there was a full-on Mariachi band playing the cocktail reception of the wedding that's happening in the hotel right now.  It was like Three Amigos - except there were four of them.  It was hilariously awesome.

Here's some things that have been on my mind as of late.

1.  I have now officially been alive longer then my Mother ever was.  It alternately breaks my heart and makes me more determined then ever to keep moving forward with my life.

2.  Last night Pixie feel asleep curled next to me in her little bed, her two little hands holding mine. It was truly a moment I hope never to forget.  She is so sweet and loving and I can't stand the thought of her growing up.

3.  Therapy is one of the best things I have ever done for myself.  Hands down. Best.Ever.  It helps that I love my therapist.  I can't believe the things she has made me realize and feel.  If you've ever thought about doing it, I'm telling you - do it.

4.  The Beiber obsession continues in our household.  Wonderboy was practicing for a "Sing-Off" that was going to happen at recess today.  He had the printed lyrics to Never say Never and has been driving us all mental walking around and singing it.  Plus, Pixie tells us about four times a day that she is going to marry Justin Beiber.  And I may have - MAY have - put one of his songs on my running playlist. cough*ok, I did*cough.

5.  By running playlist, I do not mean a list that keeps running continuously.  I mean, I have started running.  Been doing it for about a month and I have registered for a 5K in May to keep me going.  I don't love it all the time, but I was getting bored with my 30 day shred.  I had also spent some time talking about it with my Aunt and she convinced me to give it a try.  I don't love it every time, and had a particularly hard go yesterday, but I'm up to 2 and 1/4 miles which makes me feel pretty damn great.

6.  Going off of those thoughts - I feel really great that I have finally taken control of my dissatisfaction with my body by doing something about it.  It took me long enough to get from the whining stage to the actual doing stage, but I'm there now and it's been very positive. (Again, thanks to the therapist for kicking me off my butt.) (Which is hopefully getting smaller!)

Not like everything is all roses and sunshine.  For example, our dog had six kidney stones removed two weeks ago.  They actually gave them to us in a little jar. Blech.

In three months I will be 40.  I wanted, and needed, to get things in a better place before I reached that milestone and I feel like I have begun that process.  Here's hoping I can stick to my guns and keep the progress going.