Over the Train Tracks

We recently moved from a big city to an tiny town most people haven't even heard of.  Taking kids to practice use to involve a fifteen minute drive - at least, and freeway travel and rush hour traffic. STRESSFUL! Last night while my son and I were walking to practice, (that's right, walking, it's just over the train tracks) we had the most fun conversation about catching grasshoppers.  After practice he suggested we go see the end of his brother's practice. Before the move this would have meant an additional 17 minute drive. But, I happily agreed, after all, it was just over the train tracks. Walking to the football field we talked about the wonderful outdoor smells, we jumped in the first fall leaves, we held our thumbs up to the moon. This is what I have been missing when we drive everywhere. I watched my child laugh along side me. He caught me watching him and grabbed my hand. With a squeeze he said, "you are the greatest Mom ever".  I hadn't done anything to deserve this praise. Honestly, we were walking more because I'm trying to do my part to cut down on pollution then because I was trying to be a good mom and spend some quality time with my son. Still, it worked out, no pollution, a healthy little walk, quality time with my boy. I love how our little town is bringing us closer. When my daughter gets home we are walking to the store that sells homemade jams; it's just over the train tracks.

My Success is not Yours

The Surprise Party
Throwing a surprise birthday party is hard! I couldn't think of a good hiding place for everything I had purchased so I decided to leave it all in my car. Hubby checked the bank account and wanted to know why I had spent so much - I lied - shamefully well. He went into my car to get the soccer ball. Thankfully I had moved everything into our second stairwell. He wanted me to meet him for lunch with friends, which I couldn't do with food cooking and prep work to be done but I couldn't tell HIM that so instead we fought. He was suppose to be gone when guests arrived but because of the long lunch he didn't go to the other thing he had planned, which meant he was home. He looked at my cell and saw text messages between his brothers and I. Thankfully, he finally took a nap so guests were showing up and keeping quiet in the yard and sun room. Our darling son ran into the house calling for his brother to come outside because their friends were here. This woke up Hubby who was just too curious about what friend was here to go back to sleep and came outside. His family showed up 30 minutes late (they were suppose to arrive first to help me)so Hubby was already out there when they pulled up. But, He was still kinda surprised. The large grocery bill and the missed lunch date didn't clue him in.  Though he figured I was planning something from the texts, he didn't think it was for that day. Even the friend being at our house didn't give it away until he walked outside. So, a success, of sorts. He had a great time.

What is SUCCESS?
But this all leads to another thought, He just turned 30. He's been married for 10 years, he has his boys and his girl, he has a dog, a house, a successful job. By many standards his life is on a good track and he should not feel "bad" about getting older - not that 30 is old.  We heard a lot of this over the weekend. "he's got his S*!t together". One friend who came is two years older than Hubby. He also agreed that Hubby had his "stuff" together. He, however, is unwed, with no prospects, no children, a new(ish) career, only a small townhouse which used to be his grandmothers. He stayed long after all other guest had left and what he really wanted to talk about was this.  What were our thoughts? Was he less of a "success"? Should he want these things? And, what if he didn't? Honestly, I'm not sure. I mean, I'm a stay-at-home mother. My entire identity is wrapped up in the belief that the life I have makes me successful. Seriously, I'd be very depressed if my idea of success was a well paying career.  Hubby too considers himself a successful person; he has the life he wants. But isn't that success? Not so much what the life is but that it is the one you want? Our friend is indecisive.  Are people still so programmed to think that a house and family is the ultimate success that they can't even fully acknowledge that it might not be what they want? And if it isn't what they want, isn't it better for them to be a success at something that makes them happy than a depressed individual who is a crappy spouse and bad parent? Everyone is just so different, I don't see how there can be a one size fits all idea of success.

How To: PLAN A DISASTER

Okay, so here's the deal. My husband wants a surprise birthday party. It's a big birthday for him so I get it. He is a very good Hubby (mostly) so he deserves it. My problem? I have two actually.........

Problem #1)
He never celebrates my birthday! This year I told him in no uncertain terms that my birthday was going to get celebrated or his wouldn't. My birthday is a full month and a half before his. He FINALLY took me out last weekend. Oh! And I got the babysitter, picked the place, sat him down at the computer so he could send me an e-card before we left and even had to keep reminding him so he wouldn't forget the date.  And, there were no gifts. I get that this is hard for him, I had a great time and I don't mind having to orchestrate it all myself as long as his heart is in the right place about it. But I don't think he can ask for a Big Surprise Birthday Party if he can't even say Happy B-day to me and get me a card without serious prompting. And, seriously, six weeks past my birthday and a week before he wants a party?????

Anyway, because I love him, and because I am a complete pushover when it comes to him I am trying to throw him a surprise party, uh, TOMORROW! Oh, gosh! This is all so awful!

Problem #2)
My husband is a bit of a beast. Most people, well, they don't really like him.  He looks like he's on steroids, he is very, very smart.  Everything he says, whether it is nice, a joke, a suggestion or an insult sounds the same -mean. It is hard to talk to someone who looks like that, sounds like that and also knows what they are talking about. Oh, did I mention he has no patience? Especially for stupidity.  Who in the world am I suppose to invite to this disaster??? (I mean, party)
I invited his family, one of his long time friends and one of his co-workers as well as one of the guys he coaches with. I didn't even bother with trying anybody from his football team, they love him on the field but he gets more penalties than anyone else and is always yelling at his own team. I really don't think they would come.

image from: http://www.sconefest.com/john/blog/marvel/hulk_m.jpg

The funny thing is, he is a really great guy, He paid to take my baby sister and brother to Disney World because they have never been, he coaches 6-8 football, he does dishes and laundry and takes care of the yard. He takes his boys to boy scouts. He even takes me clothes shopping.  He deserves this - even if he does act like the Incredible Hulk in front of everyone else. I really hope this does not turn into a huge disappointment...................

Keeping the Trains

              I have a sister getting ready to close on her first house. I have another sister who just started college. I have another sister who just found out she is pregnant with her first child. Another family member is getting married this weekend. It makes my life feel stagnant. True, I've already done all these things. It just feels like all my big firsts are past.  

             I had a different kind of first today.Today, I decided to keep the trains.  My middle son was very big into Thomas the Train when he was little. Even though he hasn't touched it in years he never wanted to get rid of the stuff.  Finally, I decided I was going to donate them. I started to sort through the bin when a memory hit me so hard I froze.  Do you remember Little People? The actual little ones not the "safe" little ones? We had tons of them when I was growing up, we had houses and schools and shops. We had a station wagon and a pop-up camper. We had a play ground. I loved those little guys. It is the only toy from my childhood that my parents kept and when we visit, my kids can play with them. I think that is awesome.  I'm a tosser. I don't keep things. They go to charity, get sold or get trashed. I have very few things from my kids first years. I just don't see the point. I decided to keep the trains. When my kids have kids and they come to visit I can pull out the big bin of trains. I will remember my son playing with them, I will watch him remembering that wonderful part of his childhood and I will watch my grandbabies play with a well loved toy saved just for them.  It's a different kind of first, that's for sure.Actually, it makes my stomach act a little funny thinking about it. I'm really glad I'm Keeping the Trains.  

Hello Road, I missed you!

               I'm a runner. We are a special breed. We only compete against ourselves. We run in weird weather conditions, we pee in the woods.Yeah, I know, we are so cool! I haven't run most of the summer since the kids were home.  With school back in I knew my time had come but the past two weeks I just couldn't get out there.  Today I woke up with a strong desire to run.  I put on my running clothes, saw the kids off on their buses and headed for the door. My plan? Run to the gym and back. The gym is about four miles away. I honestly didn't know if I would be able to do this as my fist run.But, I figured the gym gave me a half way water break and worst case I could beg a ride home from one of my gym friends. I acually made it there feeling pretty good. I went in, got a drink, and decided, yup; I'm gonna run back. I told a friend who has to drive past my place to get home to watch for me and make sure I hadn't died trying to do this.  I set out for home and after about 100 yards I thought I had made a big mistake.  Now here is why I love running. Running is not a skill. I don't need to know the rules, I don't need to know how to throw or catch or hit.  There are no special moves to practice. You don't have to go to a special field or court. You can start anywhere and end anywhere.You get out there, you take a deep breath and you just go.  You trust your own strength to move you, to carry you over hills and around curves. You can think while you run and let the scents of the life around you fill you up.  The empowering feeling that my strength can carry me over this distance is awesome. When I started to think I couldn't do this I thought about why I love to run, I put my head down and said OK I am doing this! I made it home. Actually I made it home pretty fast. I'm really suprised I was able to run 8 miles at a 7minute mile pace.  I feel great right now. The road is my friend and I can't wait to get out there again.

I'm a Biker Chic (Yeah right)

          This weekend Hubby and I went out.  I was really wanting some Olive Garden bread sticks and salad and he sweetly agreed to take me there.  So up the stairs I went to change into something nice.  A few minutes later he shouts up that we are taking the bike. This is fantastic since we haven't been on it in a while and it is starting to get cold so this may be our last chance this year. But this also means I'm changing into something more casual. When I come down the stairs Hubby tells me I look like a biker chic. I hadn't meant to but with my black boots, skinny jeans, studded belt and favorite black t-shirt I guess I kind of did.  Not really caring I kissed the kids goodbye, gave final instructions to the babysitter, put on my safety gear, hopped on the back and off we went.

         When we get there Hubby pulls to the curb in front of the door to let me off so I can get us on the list. I swing my leg over the bike. I unstrap my helmet and pull it off. My long hair fell out of my helmet landing around my shoulders and in my face.  I shake my head to get my hair out of my way. Holding my helmet in one hand I turn to the door to start walking.  Every eye is on me. (yikes!)  This was a Saturday night which means there was a crowd outside waiting for their buzzers to go off. I walk the gauntlet of staring faces to the front door. I think, huh, I kind of like this. I go in I get my little buzzer I head back out. Every eye is still on me. I think, huh, I don't like this. 

          While Hubby and I wait for our table, then eat, then pay, then leave I noticed people looking over at us.  You can see the thoughts in their eyes.  They think our lives are exciting, they think we may be dangerous, or, at the very least that we have a devil-may-care attitude. You can see the young boys and some of the dads envying Hubby. You can see that some of the older folks think "I used to be like that". There is a perception, a preconceived notion about bike riders. I have noticed it before. The most prominent one was on our road trip to Atlantic City. We were at a stop light and there was an older woman in the car next to us. She kept giving us pointed dirty looks like we were the problem with the world.  Part of me wanted to jump off the bike and tell her "Wait a minute before you judge, I've been married to this man for nine years. We have three kids and we are good parents, we give to charities and go to church. We barely even ever swear or drink!" And part of me wanted to flip her off and stick out my tongue, which probably would have just proved her point for her.  But really, why judge? You really have no idea. I like riding on the bike. I love the feel of the wind and the sway of the bike. I love being wrapped around Hubby. I love that I have to trust him completely on a bike. 

The bike for us is an escape, a deviation from our normal existance not a public statement about who we are.  And yet, that very experience of conclusions being drawn about us gives another dimension to that escape. For that moment maybe I am a wild woman, traveling the country with a biker I just met, not a care in the world, never knowing where I will lay my head or who I will meet next.  

Whose the F*CK are These?!?

Hubby was folding laundry (yes, he's wonderful) when he calls for me to come to the room. As I walk in I see he is holding up a pair of boxer briefs that are obviously not his. "Whose the Fuck are these?!" he yells at me "Whose the FUCK are these?!?!?" At first I had no idea. And then it hits me.  I broke into laughter which seemed to confirm my guilt, which made me laugh harder. I had to call my oldest son in to explain.  I'd been shopping with the kids earlier in the week.  My son said he needed new underwear so I had let him pick some new ones out.  These belonged to our son. Hubby was very relieved.  I wasn't. I mean these boxers wouldn't have fit,well, Hubby. But, they would have fit a slim man. My oldest son is a big guy for his age. He's taller and stockier than most kids his age. People think he's about two years older than he is.  We wear the same size shoe, we share t-shirts, I've got about 8 inches on this kid, max. But I don't think I really SAW how big he was getting. Earlier today I went into the bathroom after he was done showering (which he does exclusively) to collect dirty clothes. The second I opened the door my senses were assaulted with a smell which, until that very instant, I had associated

with men - the smell of a man's soap. My baby was using men's soap?  It

wasn't the soap his father uses though so I asked him about it. He said he

found it tucked into the back of our hall closet.  Sooooooo, not only is he

using it but he actively tried to find it??  Since when was  the  scent of the

ocean not good enough for him?  When did  this start to matter? How  is

this happening so fast???? Getting hit by my son smelling like a guy AND

wearing boxers big enough to freak out my husband all on the same day

is a bit much.  I need a drink.