Employing New TACTics

 April has been a month of struggle against my natural instincts, to be sure.

I seemed to set goals for the week on Sunday night--goals that would bring me closer to my envisioned end--only to crash and burn sometime Tuesday afternoon.

Last Saturday was the worst of all.  I woke up exhausted, looked at myself in the mirror, descended the stairs to a messy house (reminders of the two birthday parties I hosted on Friday), and then, because I was completely disgusted with my house and my body and my mental state, I crawled back into bed until 9 am.  Unfortunately, even another few winks of sleep couldn't dispel my dark mood.

You see, I have set these goals for myself--high, yet seemingly attainable goals--and NEVER do I achieve them all in a day.  I fail.  EVERY SINGLE DAY.  Every day.  Every night I go to bed and tell myself, "Tomorrow is another day (with full credit to Miss Scarlett for that mantra)," and when I wake up I think, "Yep, it's today," and that night I get back into bed flooded with feelings of failure and insecurity.

This was the mood that filled my soul Saturday morning.  Nothing I'd been doing was measuring up to my standards.  Nothing was right with the world.  All was wrong and failure and incomplete.  I knew down deep that I should exercise and that I'd feel better afterwards, but getting my running clothes out of the closet was as far as I got before I discarded them on the bed and crawled back between the sheets for another thirty minutes of mindless sleep--a retreat from all the negative self-talk and messy environment around me.

By the time I escaped the call of my bed for the THIRD time that morning, it was 10:30 and I knew my exercise window was closing.  With all the gumption I could muster, I pulled on my clothes and shoes, snagged my iPad from Brad's nightstand, and headed down to the treadmill in the dungeon of our house. I set the speed low--low like my mood--and pulled up my blog list.

Here are a few of the gems I found that morning:

original image from here

I clicked over to Nester's weekend links and found myself smiling ten times in a row as I worked through mile four.  It worked.  The simple act of smiling lightened my mood and my mind.

I found a link to this article, You Don't Have to Pander, on Centsational Girl's weekend reading list. Blogging is a beautiful, fantastic, sometimes humiliating and self-defeating endeavor.  Why are some blogs hot and others (like mine) flounder in the less popular bracket? After reading Seth's blog and his perspective, I reevaluated my writing, gave myself credit for some achievements (out of over 280 entries, my pantry was featured at I Heart Organizing! That's huge!), and remembered a few recent conversations when people had told me my blog had touched them in some way. Those little comments make me so happy--just knowing that what you write is being read . . . yeah.  Happy.

I read Why I Rock by my college roommate Paige. Go read it.

Glad you're back.  As I read her post, I began a mental list of all the things I had accomplished during the week.  Although my exercise goal had been three miles every single day, I had missed three days (sigh.  I even hate writing that.). But AT THAT MOMENT I was on the treadmill.  That counts for something, right?  And even though my total goal for the week was eighteen miles, I logged a total of six miles that morning, doubling my total for the entire week. Six extremely sweaty miles that fell far short of my sixty-minute completion goal.  Sometimes, the achievement needs to be marked in the distance, not in the time it took to get there.  I had done it. Thanks, Paige, for the kick in the pants.

It took the entire six miles for me to untangle all the negative self-talk in my head--to find where I really should be and to give myself an as-objective-as-one-can-be-with-oneself evaluation of my progress towards my goals of acting with purpose, acting without reacting, and acting to serve others.  How had I really done this last month?

I may have had a messy house that day, but I spent the entire day serving two of my favorite children and their friends, celebrating birthday milestones with mountains of crepes, sheets of soft pretzels, gallons of paint--making memories for life.

I may have broken my eating goals almost every day this last month, but I identified some triggers and some issues that I can address to make things better in the future.

I may have slacked in my running, but I attended yoga four times that week, and I am improving my balance and strength each day.

I may have missed opportunities for meaningful service to others, but I did spend over an hour talking with our neighbors one night, helping them sort through a crisis of belief and hopefully helping them reach a satisfactory solution.

Yes, I had failed on numerous occasions.  Yes, I did not have a single day in April where I felt I had achieved my goals perfectly.  What I did realize this month is that life is an all-out war--war against our natural tendencies towards easy and lazy.  It's an uphill battle--one that is constantly waged daily in the trenches of life.  Little skirmishes litter the way, and often we lose those little skirmishes to our weaknesses.  The key is to keep focusing on the larger war--the uphill battle.  Am I farther up the hill than I was a month ago?  A year ago?  What have I learned about myself and others as I've been battling?  How has this changed who I am intrinsically and spiritually?

Most importantly, that six-mile jaunt on the treadmill focused me on another issue--I need to act kindly not only to others but to myself as well.  My cousin Myke is embarking on a similar journey this year, and his latest Steinbeck quote hit me deep:

"It requires a self-esteem to receive—not self-love but just a pleasant acquaintance and liking for oneself."
                  — John Steinbeck, "About Ed Ricketts" 

Hard to read.  Harder to do. 

Just like Dory, I'm going to just keep swimming.  Swimming, swimming, swimming. 

And the answer to the battle questions?  In all honesty, I do feel like I am farther up the hill than I was a year ago.  I may have lost some ground in April, but the next battle is beginning, and I think I have better field position this time.

Two Birthdays in One Day

Ben turned seventeen last week, and he decided he wanted to invite friends over for a breakfast crepe bar.

I made a huge fruit salad and a quadruple batch of crepes, and then I let the kids go to town.

Teenagers crack me up.  As long as there is food and music, all is well.  Even though we have plenty of soft seats for them, they all ended up on the floor and stairs in the entry, milling around iPods and the piano.

A little fruit was left, but not a single crepe or strawberry.  I would call that a success.

Lily's birthday was April 4th, but we couldn't squeeze in a party for her until the 26th.  She was pretty patient with the whole delay, so I wanted to make it really fun.

 She and her friend Abby spent much of the afternoon preparing a paint game--tutorial later this week.

 There were accidents and explosions and laughter.  They even drafted Ben to help for a little while.

 As the girls arrived, they each made their own pretzel.

As the pretzels baked, we all went outside and got a little crazy with some paint.

 You never know with teenage girls if they're going to love the mess or turn up their noses in disgust.

 These girls loved it, and I was so glad!

 Three weeks late, and she finally got her birthday cake.

 It made me laugh how she carefully started to blow out the candles from one end, not bothering to hurry.

 She was trying to leave just one flame flickering (for whom, she won't disclose), but her youngest brother got a little impatient with all that and "helped" extinguish the last one.

Lily really wanted to play night games, so after cake, I sent the girls out with a plastic fork to play a game of "Bigger and Better"--trading what you have to your neighbors for something bigger and better.

They came home with a whoopie cushion and a few fake tattoos.  I don't consider either of those things bigger or better than a plastic fork, but it wasn't my competition.

We closed out the night with a scorpion hunt.

They found fourteen of these creepy crawlies.  Did you know scorpions glow like that when under a black light?  Gross, huh?  but that's how you find them hiding in the cracks of walls and under rocks.

Ben doused them with gasoline and lit them on fire--kind of a neighborhood tradition.  At least you know they're really dead, right?

And with that, birthday month at the Denton Sanatorium comes to a close.

Happy Birthday, my loves.

Foto Friday--Evie's New Word

Sometimes you just have to seize the teaching moments.

When you're accidentally dressed alike, steal a kiss and say, "Look!  We're twinners!"

I don't know if I can pull off the tutu skirt she has planned for today!

Have a great weekend--two birthday parties here this weekend.  Wish me luck.

Rambling Road

Have you ever experienced those phases of life where . . .

. . . you can't pinpoint it exactly, but it is elusive and not easily defined.

I've been feeling like this.

I have two project posts that need to be published.  The projects are complete, most of the photos taken, and I can't make myself finish them.

I have two birthday parties tomorrow--one fairly small and one fairly involved, and I can't make myself get the supplies or proceed with the planning.

I have a week-long series of posts swimming through my brain, and I can't make the ideas gel into concrete thought.  They're gonna be good, though, I can feel it.


I have summer activities and programs and lessons to plan.  Kids in AZ need a little help when it comes to staying busy all summer, and I know that I'll be sorry if I don't start looking at options soon, but I can't make myself get online and make some decisions.

I have organizing and planning and cooking and cleaning to do to prepare for Tucker's homecoming (NINETEEN DAYS, PEOPLE!).  I even made an extensive list and tried to break it down into achievable chunks, and I can't make myself follow through.

What is up?  Is it the weather?  Beautiful warming days with green trees and colorful flowers beckon me outside and away from my work.

Is it lack of sleep?  Two nights in a row with a disoriented bird singing every song in his repertoire at 12:30 am is about to drive me over the edge.

Is it the scorpion threat?  James stepped on one last night (which was as funny as it was alarming, I must admit with my macabre sense of humor--he may or may not have thought he could die).

Is it Blogger?  Pinterest?  School?  Food?  Kids?  Husband?  Church?

Whatever it is, I need to address it quickly and effectively, because I frankly don't have time to waste on days like this.

Rugby 2013

Two years in a row--Red Mountain Knights are AZ state rugby champions!

They were all quite serious and focused before the game.  Tempe was the only team that had beaten them all season, and this was certainly destined to be a battle of Titans.

With eight minutes to go, Red Mountain was down by seven, and things didn't look good.

A few hard hits and two spectacular runs downfield (and a broken tibula), and the final score was 28-14.

Admittedly not Ben's favorite game of the season, he was still thrilled to be part of his second state champion rugby team--and the first team to pull of back-to-back state wins in the history of AZ rugby.

What is a victory without a dousing of the coach?

The end of rugby marks the time when we get Ben back.  As much as I love sports and what they teach my kids, I'm always glad when the season is over.

Congratulations, Ben. 

Pinewood Derby

I know you've been waiting for a new video from Brad.  Here's his latest--Micah at the Pinewood Derby.

I don't think Micah completely understood what the "Flat Tire" award was until we were cutting his cake later that day and I explained exactly what the award meant.

He hardly cared.  And the cake was superb!

Foto Friday--Beauty and the Beast

Who knew Evie's hair could do this?

A little water, a headband and a ponytail, and she was quickly transformed and ready to go watch Ben perform in "Beauty and the Beast." He was a stellar villager, wolf, plate (and in secret role that he was fantastic!).

I've seen a lot of high school/youth productions, and this has to be in the top five.  The costuming, the set design, the acting, the music--I loved it all.  The Beast was so scary that when he walked down the aisle, Evie hid her face in Dad's shoulder and tried to claw herself to safety.

I've had "Human Again" stuck in my head all morning. I may have to sneak over and watch it again on Saturday.
 

There's No Photo to Prove It, But . . .

Our morning began with a tantrum at scriptures.  Evie insisted that Hyrum get her a Book of Mormon, and no one else.  I forced her out onto the patio in the "cold" (63 degrees) until she could calm down. It took her a while to come to her senses.

Then there was a miraculous change in the air.

Micah claimed that it's easiest for him to count by sixes and proved it to me by singing and dancing his way up to 106 with no effort.

Hyrum was giggling.  Evie was smiling.  I started dancing and laughing.

Kids ate breakfast, found shoes and backpacks with smiles on their faces.

Micah practiced the piano--even playing through his Toccata the required "once very slow" without complaint.

Evie thanked me for sharing celery with her.

The boys cleaned their room.  Micah shut Hyrum's fingers in the closet door, but he actually uttered a heartfelt apology.

I emptied dishwashers and loaded them back up.

Micah remembered his lunch.

Boys hustled off to school, talking about tests and playtime.

It is supposed to be a beautiful 75 degrees in the Valley of the Sun today.

There may not be any photographic evidence that this morning happened, but I am here to tell you that it did.

A nearly perfect morning.

It happened.

Kiwi Chronicles

I'm sure you've been wondering what our resident Kiwi has been up to.

See this happy expression?  His mama sent him a package of yummy stuff only available in New Zealand.

 

 His mate Karly was here, and they both kept saying, "It's Christmas!  It's better than Christmas!  Look!  Toffee pops!  Weet-Bix!  Milo!  It's better than Christmas!"

 James has been very generous sharing his sweets from home with the rest of us.  Toffee pops--much like a Twix bar. Milo--like malted milk but a little different.  Weet-bix still haven't been opened, but I'm not quite sure he'll share that!

Evie got in on the excitement.  Karly offered to box her up and send her back to New Zealand to James's mom, but she didn't think that was a good idea, even though she did enjoy the styrofoam peanuts!

Culture lesson for the day:  Kiwis call styrofoam peanuts "bubbles." 

Karly and James were quite mystified by the suggestion that a tree be chopped down to replace it with a new one.  Trees are much less maintenance in New Zealand, I'm sure, but hey had that puppy chopped down in minutes.  One thing that continues to amuse me is how hot they think it is here.  I know that it rains most days in NZ and I know that the temps there are quite moderate, but I keep reminding them that it isn't even hot yet!  It was only 85 degrees that day, but whoever wasn't using the axe always waited their turn in the shade.  Wait until it really does get hot--by the end of next week for sure.

But why were the guys chopping down a tree?

To be manly, for sure, but there was additional motivation as well.  Brad told them that if they removed the tree, he'd take them to the Phoenix Suns' final home game of the season.

Fourteenth row, center court, Baby.

And the Suns actually won for a change.

James has been such a joy to have around.  He is funny and kind and easy-going.  We are thrilled he's sharing this America experience with our family.

Boston 2013

People run marathons for many reasons--to show their strength, to train with friends, to raise money for favorite causes, to remember someone who has died, or to prove they are healthy after fighting a terminal illness. Some even run marathons as their job since they are so good, sponsors pay them for their training and results.

I've completed the St. George Marathon twice--in 2001 a year after Lily was born, and again in 2005 a year after Micah was born.  I ran my first race on a whim--invited by a group of new friends, I decided to prove my mettle against the granddaddy of racing, and against myself.

Completing a marathon is almost as life-changing as experiencing childbirth, and I don't make that comparison lightly.  Hours and hours spent on the road running mile after mile, increasing your endurance each week, preparing for the big race.  3:30 am was the earliest we ever got up for a training run.  Really.  3:30 in the AM--training through the middle of summer in AZ is brutal, and temperatures can reach over 100 as soon as the sun comes up, so many runners try to finish their long runs in the dark coolness of the early early morning hours.

It was September, and I was nearing the end of my training for my first big race. We completed eight miles one morning, trying to get home early enough to get kids out the door to school.  I was so exhausted that morning that I climbed back into bed and immediately fell unconscious to the school preparations around me.  I even slept through the phone ringing.  When I awoke an hour later, I could tell something was strange, because we never have the TV on before the kids leave for school--and my family was gathered around the screen.  I rounded the corner to see what they were watching so intently on a school morning, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

image credit

I spent the entire day glued to the screen, wondering and questioning and crying.

That day the world changed forever.

Twenty-five days later, I found myself out on the marathon course, with the name Robert David Peraza centered on my race bib.  Robert David Peraza--a faceless name who had lost his life on 9/11/01.

I ran in his memory. I ran for someone who had loved him and lost him that day in September.  I ran past dozens of American flags waving in the breeze, past nameless faces who had come to support me through my race, past stereos blasting "God Bless the USA," past family in the bleachers cheering me from the bleachers at the finish line. Robert David Peraza and I crossed the finish line together.

Almost twelve years later, I found myself in my Suburban, headed out to complete a few errands before Evie's nap.  I turned on the radio and to my shock, the words "multiple bombs" and "deaths" and "Boston Marathon" jumbled together in my brain, refusing to be processed.

image credit

Just as I had done on 9/11/01, I found myself glued to to the news, watching and questioning and praying.

This time, it hit close to home.

As an amateur runner, I feel a kinship--a bond--with these crazy people who spend hours each week pounding the pavement and pushing themselves to the limit.  Lost toenails and packets of GU.  Bottles and bottles of water and gatorade.  Favorite socks and broken-in shoes. 

Hours and weeks and months of training.  For some, I'm sure, running the Boston Marathon was the completion of a lifelong dream--a dream I cannot even entertain because I could never get the qualifying time necessary to compete in the race.

The explosion occurred a little more than four hours into the race.  I completed my two marathons around 4:30.  If I had been on the course yesterday, I would have come upon the carnage just minutes after the bombs exploded.  My family would have been sitting in those bleachers, waiting with signs and smiles and watching for me. My eight-year-old son would have run out to give me a hug before running back to the sidewalk. I would have seen blood and limbs and bodies strewn across the course, surrounded by Samaritans and medics.

This hits so close to home because that could have been me.  It could have been St. George in 2001 or 2005 or Phoenix in 2013. It could have been me.

Street racing was forever changed yesterday--how it will change has yet to be determined.

I mourn today for those families who lost loved ones yesterday or who are currently standing sentinel at Boston area hospital beds.

But I refuse to let the insanity and cruelty of a few people change my life.  I will still run--run proud and run far and run competitively.  I will still cheer others from grandstands and along sidelines.  I will still pin those bibs to my chest and challenge my body and my mind by tackling road courses.

I will mourn for a short time, but I will continue to live my life the way I always have--if we change our mindset too much or let our fears escalate and overwhelm us, then THEY WIN.  And I refuse to let them win.

One of the aspects of marathon running that I love is that people never ask you if you won the marathon, since just finishing a marathon makes you a champion--a champion over your mind and your exhaustion.  I feel so sad for those who were robbed of that joy of "just finishing" yesterday because a few cruel people targeted their race.

Don't let THEM win.  Mourn for a day, maybe two, then return to living your joyful, purposeful lives the way you've always lived them.

For in that small action alone--just living day to day--we can demonstrate the resilience of our character and the strength of our commitment to freedom.

God bless you, Boston.

Early Morning Partner

I arose earlier than the rest of the house this morning to write to Tucker before the craziness of the day started.

I had been sitting at the computer for less than five minutes when Evie quietly slipped into the chair next to me.

The sun was coming up and its rays came in the window at just the perfect angle.  I grabbed my camera.

And just like that, the sun moved, the light changed, and the craziness that is Monday morning began.

Foto Friday on Saturday--Prom

Is it really prom time again?  Where did the last year go?

My Ben--he's such a good guy.  I could go on and on about all of his virtues, but I won't.  I'll just share a few pictures from his prom adventure.

They started out the day hiking the Wind Caves (remember our family hike with James?).  When I came home from helping in Hyrum's class, I heard the shutter on my camera click.  What?  This is what I found:

 I managed to successfully take three kids under the age of nine up this hike with no injuries, but my sixteen-year-old son manages to lose a fight with a rock and a cactus.

Nasty, isn't it?  That cut was pretty deep, but not deep enough to warrant stitches, thankfully.  He scrubbed it out and bandaged it up tight, then he spent the afternoon prettying himself up for the dance. (This may be an exaggeration.  I think he spent 30 minutes getting ready, including a shower--that's boys for you!)

Of course, moms have to take the obligatory shots of the beautiful people.

 Her dress was so beautiful.  I loved the ombre shading on the skirt.

 We were lucky to get two pictures of Ben being serious.  Most of the time, he looked like this:

I think moms enjoy prom almost as much as kids.  There's something about dressing your kid up and having them act all fancy--because as their mom, you don't get to see that side of your kid very often!

Instilling World Domination Skills While They're Young

The kids wanted to learn how to play Risk.

Have you every played?  There's no other game on the planet that can make you this frustrated this fast, and all on the roll of five dice.

There's nothing like an old-school game to bring a family together.

In Case You Didn't Notice

Five weeks from today--May 15th--Tucker will be home from his mission in New York City. He will walk through that gate at Sky Harbor airport and I will get to hug him as long as I want.

Today--April 10th--is that long-awaited day for my bestie, Karen.

Her son Dallin returns home from Birmingham, England, at 4:45 pm today.

Dallin and Tucker grew up together.  Preschool, elementary school, high school.  They wore each other's clothes and slept in each other's beds.  They shared each other's toys and apologized for squabbles. Karen was Tuck's mom and I was Dal's.

They were little boys together.

And now, they're men.

Hugging Dallin today will be almost as great as hugging his buddy.

Thirty-five days.