A New Normal

I have news.  Exciting news!!!!  Ready?  I have been offered a…..full….time….JOB!!!!!  Can I get a WOOHOO?!?!?!  I will be working in a high school library come August and I am thrilled!  HOORAY!  The funny thing is that I was actually offered two different jobs the same week – the when it rains it pours deal I guess.  I hemmed and hawed, I made a chart, and I compared and contrasted and went with the one I felt would be best.  Whew, all that interviewing over and a new chapter about to begin – have I ever mentioned how bad I am with change?

Once the thrill of being offered a job settled down, anxiety started to creep in. Anxiety to me is like a rat running around and around on a wheel in your head that keeps you from totally paying attention to what is going on around you or listening clearly or even thinking clearly.  I tell you, there was a pet store full of rats running around up there.   

I have not worked full time in a long time.  Like before kids long time.  I have been fortunate (i.e. saddled with debt) in that I have been able to be at home with my kids this long.  With my kids in different schools next year, I need to figure out what to do with my son after school.  Why does elementary school get out first?  Why can’t middle or high school get out first so that the girls could watch their brother and make my life easier?  I am a wreck trying to decide if I should find someone to watch him at the house or enroll him in something at school or something offsite that will pick him up.  I know my daughter will forget something vital each day and I keep picturing her waiting for the bus in the rain.  Am I crazy?  This is Austin, it rarely rains and certainly not every day.

Other craziness that has been spinning around is when can I kettlebell? Or volunteer at school?  Or bake?  Or take a nap during the week?  These little rats of insanity going around and around in my brain have led me to make many proclamations based on hormones and my fear of change.  Kids will now do their own laundry.  Kids will learn to cook.  Kids will actively engage in helping to make pizza or I will not make pizza any more.  Luckily for the kids, Bill reined me in before I could make more proclamations and completely ruin summer.  “We have time” he said, “We will figure this stuff out”.  He is so wise and calm to my crazy.

I did stick with the proclamation that kids will do their own laundry.  I watched my son fold his the other night and while it took him 45 minutes, he did it.  It made me think of all the other things he could do if I stopped doing them for him.  Maybe he will have better luck with friends if I am not there trying to smooth over his social awkwardness.  It made me realize that my daughter will definitely forget things she needs for school, but if I am not there to run them up to her each time, I bet she will forget them less often.  And I can always buy her an umbrella for the 4 days a year it does rain.  Maybe if they are hungry enough or bored enough, they will be the ones starting dinner and they will learn to cook.  And maybe if I back off a little, they will help make pizza on Fridays and Friday Pizza Night will be a real tradition, not just mom making pizza. 

I have been aware lately how big my kids are getting.  It is hard not to notice when two out of three are taller than you and that they no longer smell like puppies when they come in from outside; they just smell.  It is time for me to work more and it is time for them to do more and this change is a good thing. The new normal that will develop is a good thing, it will just be new.  Whew.  I have banished the rats from my head and am looking forward to this change– just in time to enjoy the rest of summer!  And my NEW JOB! WOOHOO!!!!

Book Blahs

I am twitchy and out of sorts.  It has been way too long since my last one.  I can’t concentrate; I am fidgety and impatient.  I need a good book to read and I need one now! Summer for me is usually a time where I like to read and read and read some more.  When I was a kid, I lost a whole summer to the Little House books and as a teenager I was back to school before I knew it thanks to John Jakes and his epic sagas.  

I took the kids and my mom to the library last week and they scampered around finding armfuls of books.  I found audio books for Bill and his long commute (“The Omnivore’s Dilemma” seemed like a good idea at the time) and then looked around for me.  Nothing.  Not one book caught my interest or invited me to crack the spine and read more.  Not one.  I thought maybe it was because I had interviewed there and they did not hire me and I was being subconsciously childish towards the books in an “you don’t want me, I don’t want your books” kind of fashion, or maybe it was because I found myself face to face with “Little Bee” again and was too disgusted to look further.  I just couldn't find anything.  Later in the week, I did check out some books from work but they were not the good book fix I needed either.  Meg Wolitzer’s “The Interestings”?  Not so interesting at all. The most interesting thing about the book is its fruit striped cover; I gave up after four chapters.  Dan Brown’s “Inferno”?  I finished it, but I skimmed an awful lot along the way and kind of wished that Robert Langdon would not find his way out of this one.  Perhaps reading such excellent children’s literature has left me disdainful of adult fiction?  "Wonder" and "The One and Only Ivan"  are two books I recommend instantly when people ask if I have read anything good lately.

I want to find this year’s “Gone Girl”.  And no, “Reconstructing Amelia”, you are not it.  I want characters I love right away like the ones in “Me Before You” or characters that are so terrible I feel immediately better about myself and am compelled to continue.  Sometimes during the summer, I like to revisit   favorite authors and see if there is a book of theirs that I haven't read yet. A little PD James for wit, snarky dialogue and a cast of heinous characters only a British author can truly develop, some Larry McMurtry for a Western that is not really a western, or maybe some Marion Keyes for an Irish woman in her late 20’s who is trying to get her life together and loved by her quirky, sister-laden family.  No interest in any of them this year. Sigh.  When I was younger, I used to reread favorite books all the time but now I think rereading is a little pointless.  Or maybe I just have less time to read and like what I am reading to be new. 

I need to find a page-turner.  A read until my neck is sore and my eyes are burning kind of book.  One where you lose track of time and your surroundings and the kids ask for things and you agree to them while saying “Mommy is reading” and later find yourself dishing out ice cream for dinner because you said okay earlier. I want a book that is so well written and so absorbing I find myself with a book hangover when I am done reading.  So help, please, and quickly!  

Kettlebell, Kettlebell, Kettlebell

I know.  Kettlebell, kettlebell, kettlebell.  Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.  I have been taking a kettlebell class for the past 18 months and have probably bored people to tears talking about it the last 17 months and 30 days.  I kind of feel like I am selling Amway or Mary Kay when I approach people and say “Have you heard about kettlebell?” 

Kettlebells

Prior to kettlebell my main form of exercise was half-hearted running around the neighborhood.  When my son turned 4, I looked at myself and the additional weight I was carrying and knew I could not call it baby weight anymore; it was all mine.  My early attempts at running were slow and short-distanced.  I rewarded myself for running with handfuls of chocolate chips thinking “I deserve it, I ran today.”  As evidenced by my brother’s wedding pictures, this was not healthy thinking and I ended up gaining more weight.  Eventually my distance increased and the dread I used to feel about running slowly faded.  I still wasn’t fast, but I was out there, pounding the pavement and calling it exercise.

When a friend forwarded me a groupon about a kettlebell class at Punch Kettlebell , I had never even heard of a kettlebell but thought that if I didn’t have to run outside when it was 85 at 7am, I was all over it.  We went to the workshop and learned the proper way to swing, to clean, and to press and got introduced to the ropes.  My heart was beating out of my chest with exertion and I was so sore the next day, I knew it had to be good for me.  I was awkward, incredibly awkward, at first with how to hold the bell, how to swing, and it was not uncommon for me to hear “STOP!  What are you doing?  What is that?!”  Oddly enough, I found this encouraging rather than intimidating.  The trainers wanted me to be good at this and so did I. Slowly, I got stronger, less awkward, and more competitive.  (Thank you Karen and Jenny)  I could move more weight and didn’t have to go home and take a nap after class anymore.  I knew enough to help new people in class and encourage them.  Last week I heard “Watch Rebecca, she knows what she is doing” and I felt like I had won kettlebell gold. 

Ropes and no, that is not my arm.

Every class is different, every trainer has a slightly different style and you are never quite sure what the day will hold.  Will it be Ropes Gone Wild or the dreaded 300? Will you warm up doing moves you haven’t tried since grade school?  We unfortunately warmed up doing crab walks and bear crawls the day my friend’s ten year old son was there and he still can't look me in the eye.  Kettlebell is not just lifting weights; it is an intense cardio and all over workout. (Average calories burned in one hour of kettlebell range between 500-1000!) You are using your core for every single move and your abs will let you know!   I especially like Punch Kettlebell because the classes are small enough that you get to know the people you are sweating with.  We encourage each other, we cheer on the beast-mode in each other and engage in very friendly competition.( I do advise you to be friendly otherwise I will privately name you things like Sweaty Guy, Toe Shoes or worse.)  I have walked in to class feeling defeated or overwhelmed by life and left there feeling invincible.  How can you be angry anymore after 20 big slams on the rope or feel defeated when you have just push pressed more than you did last week?  Physically, I have not felt this strong since I played sports in high school.  Even with my bum toe, I can do 90% of every workout and the trainers have been not only accommodating of my injury, but creative in what I can do instead.  And no ladies, you will not get bulky. You will get toned and lean and strong.

I live in a neighborhood where all the women are doctors, lawyers, CEOs, hold multiple degrees or are incredible activists for the community.  They run the PTA like a Fortune 500 Company and carry this over to their exercise as well.  They are marathon runners, tri-athletes, long-distance bikers.  I have been intimidated and exhausted just watching them.  Until kettlebell.  Kettlebell is my marathon.  It is my triathlon.  I love to share it with my friends who text me early the next day with things like “I am so sore” or “I hate you”.  I snicker like Snagglepuss and enjoy my day even more. 

So I apologize for pushing kettlebell like Sam-I-Am in “Green Eggs and Ham” but like Sam, I just can’t help myself.  And really, what is the moral of that story?  The Grinch-looking guy tries something new and then what?  HE LIKES THEM!  HE REALLY, REALLY LIKES THEM!  So try it.  You will like it.  And I can’t wait for your text telling me how much you hate me.

My Achy, Breaky Heart

Tomorrow is my 5^th grader’s Learning Celebration/Graduation.  I can’t believe she is done with elementary school!  She has had a hard year and is so excited to be done with school and to move on to middle school and I am glad for her.  She is anxious by nature and I am glad to see her looking forward to a change rather than worrying about it.  Lately, she has had to dress up for activities at school and I am stunned by how tall and grown up she looks.  She looks much older than 11 and that has been an eye-opener.  I have also learned never to shop for clothes with her at the same time.  Ugh. 

A sweet note I had to save

We were talking the other night about how she and the 3^rd grader will be in different schools next year and the more we talked, the sadder he got.  She has been his constant companion for his entire school career.  Finally, near tears he said “I can’t talk about this anymore; it is making me feel fragile.”  To be honest, I am feeling fragile about the whole thing too.  I like her in grade school, among friends I know and the parents I know.  I like that she is well cared for and has a good group of friends and that they all treat each other well.  I am dreading the shifting of friends and activities as these kids branch out to find themselves and grow.  Blah!  The drama of “she is my friend, she isn’t my friend, she said, I said, I think she said”.  My tender-hearted girl is in for a wallop, I know it and it makes me sad.  I just want to tell her that friends will disappoint you, that boys at this age are not worth worrying about or EVER waiting at home for them to call.  I want her to apply herself and to be passionate about something.  I want her to continue to be so kind people remark on it and I get to tell them that kindness, like height, seems to skip a generation.  I want her to remain the person who befriends the new kids.  I want to her to be self-confident.  I want to tell her not to worry about being cool; no one is cool right now.   I want her to just be herself, because she is so amazing.  She is kind, she is beautiful, she is smart, she is funny and she is interesting.  She relays a story with so much enthusiasm and emotion you feel like you were there too.  She loves children and animals and they love her back. 

Best work, ever.

I have this slide show of her going through my head as I think about her heading to middle school and it makes me feel so happy/sad.  I see her as a newborn when I held her and thought: “This.  THIS is what I want to do for the rest of my life.”  Or at age 2 throwing a fit at Target that was so lengthy and loud in its duration that a woman came up to me and said “Don’t worry, this really does pass.”  Or at age 4, singing “Go Tell it on the Mountain” so exuberantly in the Preschool Christmas Program, that the man in front of me turned around and said “It’s been told!”  There she is at 5, running, skipping, leaping, and galloping all the way to kindergarten.  Or at 6, reading her big chapter books, Hank the Cowdog almost exclusively.  Second grade, trying to be so brave while changing schools and looking out for her brother.  Braces and braids and the last year she would ever wear skorts.  Third grade and Girl Scout vests, DI tournaments and giggling, SO much giggling with girlfriends.  Fourth grade and zip up sweatshirts despite the heat to hide her changing body.  Fifth grade, a hard year – slumped shoulders, angry eyes, sad faces, angst written all over her.  And now, at the end, of fifth grade, taller than me, smiling so that her eyes shine, she gets ready to step into this next chapter of her life while I am trying to hold onto her childhood with one hand and help guide her into her teen years with the other.  When they are little, you hold their hands to steady them or to keep them on the right path or to encourage them to keep moving and you are always a little bit in front of them.  Now I feel like it is her hand that is one step ahead of me and that I better run to catch it.