Couch {er....Coma} to 5k.

About a month ago my friend Amber posted this on her blog.  It looked awesome.  Like the most.  And then I found out there was a Color Run in my very own city of Grand Rapids, Michigan--but I'd missed the deadline to register......and let's be honest......I'd have a difficult time running a 5k at this point even if the prize for..........just finishing in under twenty-four hours.......was an all expense paid trip to Puerto Vallarta.

And that's stupid.  I should be able to run a 5k.  I'm 34.  Healthy (ish). And it's just all around a good thing to be able to do.

I'd been saving the "Couch to 5K" schedule on my desktop for a while and just kept staring at it.  But I always forgot about it come the next Monday (the only day to actually start things right?) or so I told myself.  And my anal mind just couldn't come to grips with starting something on a random Thursday night.  I mean.......that just feels.......messy.

But I read Amber's post on a Thursday and I decided........I was taking this bull by the horns and I was starting that night.  Thursday, July 12th.

And I did.
I snapped this picture (I don't even know why I own running shoes--I guess it's the American thing to do) before I started off.  And how appropriate that I stood in a pile of pink sand from Georgia's sandbox while using the Color Run as my inspiration to get off the couch and run.  Or, more appropriate for me.....out of my coma.

That's right.  I run in big dangly earrings.  It'll be my trademark or something.  They'll call me the......earring runner.  Whatever.

I started this post the day after I started the program--as a way to keep myself accountable.  Here I am.....on a random Saturday......

.....running at night....so no one can see me awkwardly dying jogging through the neighborhood......

And I've kept at it.  I'm 1/2 way through the schedule.  And when I complete it--I've pretty much decided that these babies will be a reward to myself--because they're awesome.

.....running with a cold.....and every time my feet pounded the pavement it was like someone was hitting me in the head with a mallet.....

.......running to Kylie who is my running friend......although I've decided a great track to run to would be the sound of someone chasing you through a parking garage at night.....that'd get you going right?

And the ultimate high-five......my husband stood out on the driveway last night while I ran by him willing myself to keep going and clapped for me and then told me when I came back in that I actually looked like a runner.  A real runner who runs for exercise......not just someone huffing through neighborhood streets in a sad, sad way.

I'm headed up north for vacation next week and I'm thankful that I'll have some die hard runners up there with me to get me through some big hurdles in the program.  The amount of running I have to jump up to next week feels a little daunting.....but then again.......three weeks ago four minutes felt like that.......and now......four minutes feels like nothing.  And that.....is a great feeling.

If you're interested in doing the couch to 5k program yourself the schedule is right here.........

So thank-you Amber for getting me off the couch......and you did it all the way from the Philly color run without even knowing it!  (And P.S.......when you click over to Amber's blog check out her posts about the amazing open adoption she has with her son's birth-mother........it's all kinds of fantastic!)

You know how Olympians are really motivated......?

That's nice for them.  It really is.  Because without their maniacal motivation I would probably have had a more productive week myself.  Instead though,  I've been planting myself on the couch every night starting at eight and not leaving until after midnight and I've even watched rowing and equestrian trials during the day.  Say what?

I just have this inner voice that tells me I should be watching.  I'm a sucker for the Olympics--always have been and it's frankly really refreshing to hear people talk about the Olympics instead of politics for a couple of weeks.  I do enjoy politics--it's so important and I think it's crucial that we all know why we're voting for who we're voting for--but it's nice to get a breath of fresh air for a bit too and watch people coming together instead of being ripped apart.  So thank-you Olympic committee for planning the Olympics every four years--the same every four years that we elect a president--it's like a shot of pure oxygen.

So as a result, I have nothing poignant, soul-searching, emotional, Pulitzer prize winning, or even gross to share with you........just the randomness that was this week in between watching the Russian gymnasts not smile.....ever......but they do win the award for best eye makeup......Michael Phelps slap his back and did you notice he has different colored headphones when he comes out before every race?............the incredible nail art that adorns the fingers of every female swimmer............and the track and field heats that don't even seem humanly possible.

Here we go.......random as it gets.........

A walk with G to the creepy park near our house. And I'm not being paranoid.  It's straight up creepy.  She begs to go a couple times a week.  Usually I can put her off and get her interested in something else--this time I relented.

I love these little ankles and their scabs that just scream summer.  She's covered in bruises and remnants of all-out crazy play from fun summer days and nights.......and that's the mark of a good summer I think.

It rained one day this week, (and I don't even remember which day I've been in such an Olympic haze), and G played in the garage for a good hour with all her toys.  It was so peaceful out there with the rain just inches from us coming down in sheets.

She's getting better and better at playing by herself.  I come up on her having conversations, that are seemingly very important, with imaginary friends, and I stay back and listen where she can't see me.  Those little moments are a look into her soul that are hard to come by otherwise.  She talks about what she's afraid of, what makes her happy, how she has a hard time following the 'no-yelling' rule but she tries, and how much she loves macaroni and cheese.  I'll never forget those words that she thinks she's having in private.......they are seared into my mama heart.

I beg for games that mean G is playing with my hair, putting on my makeup, giving me a check-up or in this case taking an X-ray of my teeth.  Something about being picked at has always appealed to me.  I guess I should have been a chimp.

I spent four hours one night this week getting six years of black hair dye stripped out of my head.  And now......it's just really dark brown.  I promise.   I know it all looks like a big ruse, but it's not.  Chris just looked at me in confusion when I got back home at 10:00 Wednesday night--but it's okay--I know it's different, and that's what matters......I suppose.  And now hopefully, Georgia will stop describing my hair color as blueberry.  That always conjured up images of old women with blue hair and polyester Alfred Dunner pants.  

Georgia has recently fallen in love with Tangled and wanted Rapunzel hair.  I whipped this weave up out of yarn and added some left over fake flowers from her second birthday party.  It pretty much hasn't left her head since Wednesday.  

Case in point.   She's mowing the lawn in it below with Chris. 

And pretending to take a nap......believe me it's there......

Hope you're having a great weekend.  I gotta get back to these Olympics.

Airplanes & Expectations.

I'm a lover and a collector of firsts for Georgia.  So when I booked the two of us a flight to Florida to visit my forever and ever friend Dawn who was back in the states this summer I was over the moon.  Georgia's first airplane ride..........and a chance to hang out with my friend and her kiddos and a few days to put our feet in the ocean and collect shells.....it was all the makings of a good time.

It would be a fabulous little summer trip.  Of that I was sure.

It was fantastic to see Dawn. It always is.  Those expectations were met.

However, Georgia................she was really hard.
And at the risk of sounding like the proverbial mom who says, "I can't believe she's behaving like this--she's always so good," Georgia was not her usual happy, flexible, easy-going self.  She was overly silly (read wild), a bit cantankerous.......and the one that's hard for me to type.......kind of mean.

It was upsetting for me.

I thought about sharing this, not sharing this, or glossing over it, but it wouldn't really be an honest reflection of our trip.  And one thing I believe about putting my life out there for others to read is that I think it should be truthful; something that others can relate to (I hope), learn from, and commiserate with.

Georgia's first airplane ride?
Went off without a hitch.  She was great--the kid I'm used to.  She did everything she was supposed to do and besides telling her that she couldn't put her feet on the seat in front of her a few times and that she couldn't have a bag of peanuts, pretzels, and the cookies there were no issues.

I had this thing in the bag.

And then we landed.
And I'd like to say that Florida cast this voodoo magic over my daughter turning her into Dennis the Menace so it's not anyone's fault, but I can't.
I can say however, that I experienced my first parenting moment where I absolutely did not know what was going on, how to really handle it, couldn't figure out why and how this started, and what I needed to do differently to change course.

Anxiety about how I was shaping this person set in.  Where had I gone wrong?  What was I not doing enough of? Doing too much of?

I want my daughter to be a conscientious, kind, and empathetic individual....the opposite of what I observed while on our trip.  And I know it's easy to pass it off as normal preschool behavior, normal only-child behavior, normal spirited child behavior, and the excuses go on.....but bottom line.......it made me sad.

And nothing about watching my child grow up to date has made me sad.

There was just this feeling in my gut that this behavior I was seeing her exhibit towards other kids and expectations wasn't good.  This wasn't what I wanted her to be.  It's made me stop and think.  I believe it's important to listen to our mom voice when it yells at you this loud.  When it's hitting you over the head saying, "Re-evaluate what you're doing so you can stop this," it'd be irresponsible not to listen and futile to try and deny what you're seeing.

And while I know that there will be many moments like this as Georgia continues to grow up and there will be many avenues I could take to make myself feel better about something that is uncomfortable--that's not good parenting.  Good parenting is facing a situation head-on, reshuffling the cards, getting out a new owners manual, or deconstructing some of your methods and molding them into new ones.

Were there good moments with Georgia on this trip?  Absolutely.  Without a doubt. But it was a bit of a wake-up call for me.  One of many that I know I'll have as this girls mama.  And it's always our choice as parents to pay attention to those wake up calls or ignore them and hope "this phase passes."  

I refuse to ignore.  I refuse to pass the buck.  I refuse to think I could have done more after it's too late.  And I refuse not to do the best I can by this incredible little person that I have been given the privilege and tremendous responsibility of raising.  

And sometimes, a lot of times,  I'm learning......it's really hard, sobering, humbling, and sad.  Thankfully, in between those moments are many, many refreshing, gratifying, soul filling, laugh till it hurts moments.  

I love this little girl.  I love her so much.  

*************

On a lighter note........

Ten Random Observations From a Mom With a Stroller in an Airport:  

1.  I have a stroller.  You really just need to move out of my way......not the other way around. 

2.  It's AuBonPain in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport, not a French bistro people.....just order something off the menu.  You can customize it all you want and change your mind over and over.....it's still just going to be AuBonPain in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport. 

3.  If you ever needed more reason to think sagging pants were asinine.....observe a man try and push a stroller with one hand, carry a car seat, and walk with his legs spread far apart enough to hold up his sagging pants.  

4.  If you're walking through the terminal on your cell phone--that's cool.  Just try and stay in a straight line instead of weaving back and forth in front of those of us with strollers.  

5.  The smoking room?  That's just so sad people.  Give it up already. 

6.  Why are there no moving sidewalks in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport?  Really?  Why? 

7.  Groups of soldiers walking through airports instantly make me teary.  I want to stop and hug them and yell for everyone to clap for them.  I truly love it.  

8.  The luggage that people are trying to pass as carry-on these days is an abomination and a lie.  I fully support airlines tightening the belt on that ridiculousness.  If it can hold enough clothes for a two week stay in Europe and almost decapitate people as you catapult it out of the overhead bins......it's too big.  

9.  McDonald's just needs to be in every terminal.  It does.  It's easy, I know exactly what to get my kid, and it's very, very fast.  Can we stop being health conscious within the confines of an airport?  It'd be so  much easier for us moms.  

10.  I think Gymboree could have a booming business in airports.  Fifteen minute mini-play classes?  I'm sure it'd be a hit.  

Firsts. They're all mine.

Growing up I was never a big collector of things.  Sure, I had an armful of friendship bracelets (that I probably made 1/2 of), some puffy stickers in a pink and purple Lisa Frank sticker book, a smattering of My Little Ponies, and a socially acceptable amount of Barbies--but I didn't have a huge drive to collect things in mass quantity; beating out all my friends in a quest to have the most of something.  

And as an adult--I'm still very much like that.  I don't want to collect beads on a Pandora bracelet, I'm not loyal to any one brand of purse, I'm not a gadget person really, even though I love photography I own just the bare minimum of equipment to get me the pictures I want, and I have never owned one piece of crystal or china--let alone a collection of it.  I suppose the only thing you could really say I'm a collector of is clothes and jewelry--and we're talking cheap junk for the most part people.  Target tank-tops, Forever 21 fake rhinestone bracelets, knock off purses from Aldo, and a handful of J.Crew items I've found on clearance.  And I have a lot of all of the above--it's true.  But a discerning collector of them, I'm not.  

The thing I've decided though, that I'm a collector of, and that I'll make sure no one has more of than me......is 'firsts' with Georgia.  I hoard them, I protect them, I plan them, and I crave them. Parenting is really hard.  Like the most.  And the hard work that ensues in dealing with a slammed door in my face and a shriek of, "You don't love me anymore," (that's right--she's three) is paid for in the look of sheer joy on her face when I take her to the big park for the first time, to Fourth of July fireworks, dipping her toes in the ocean, her first American Girl doll, a crazy science experiment outside with her on the front lawn, or this past week.......school supply shopping for the first time.  

While it is absolutely bittersweet for me that I was e-mailed a school supply list for pre-school because of everything that it means in terms of how old my G is getting, it was pure bliss for Georgia.  She ran up and down the aisles of Target numerous times looking for the most perfect box of crayons, folder, set of dry erase markers, and even Kleenex boxes.  I wanted her to get exactly what she wanted.  As an educator--I firmly believe that making a big deal out of getting school supplies is like an appetizer to the great things that are to be once school starts.  When kids start the year with pencils, and markers, and erasers that they are proud of they feel confident.......even pre-school kids.  And confidence goes a long way in getting kids off to the right start at the beginning of a school year.  

It was incredible to watch her deliberating over something so personal......like this folder that she had to pick out.  It was a glimpse into her thought process that you only get with decisions like this.  I could have easily chosen all of her supplies for her.  It would have taken five minutes versus forty five.  I could have predicted that she'd want a Cinderella folder over a Hello Kitty one--even though she loves both. But I wouldn't have been able to watch her little brain work.......I would have deprived her of a first.......and I would have deprived myself of a first as well.  And as you know, I collect them.  

Experiencing firsts with your kids is your payday, it cements that incredible bond that only you have with them, and it helps you get to know them better--even if you think that's not possible.  Don't give them away, don't let other people steal them from you.  They're part of your collection--they are invaluable and they are original only to the people who experience them first-hand.  Make sure it's you. 

Do we really "need to relax?"

When someone makes a racist joke and people get upset about it do we respond with, "Sheesh--just relax--it's a joke.  The intent wasn't to insult."

And when someone makes a crack at a certain ethnicity's expense and people jump to let that person know the joke was inappropriate would anyone (really) respond with, "It was a joke.  Everyone knows they didn't really mean it.  Relax."

And does anyone really appreciate a long-drawn out explanation from someone regarding why they thought a joke about someone's race was funny and they couldn't in a million years have predicted people would have a problem with it--but they're sorry now?

The answer is NO.

Nor do you hear people running to defend someone who just told an off color joke with, "I'm African American and black jokes don't bother me, so keep telling them," "My husband is Mexican and I don't mind derogatory jokes about Mexicans--they're funny."

We don't post 'funny' racist or ethnicity bashing jokes on our Facebook walls, tweet about them, or pin them to our Pinterest boards. And we don't teach them to our children or show them that we condone them by laughing at them in front of our kids.

We just don't.  We all know it's wrong.......and really........it's not even a temptation to joke about because it's such a non-issue......what somebody's race or ethnicity is.  To make demeaning, inappropriate, insensitive, or crass jokes about it shows a lack of decorum in a fairly civil society.  It shows insensitivity to an individuals station in life--one that they did not choose, but were born into.

There's also this intrinsic force that just tells you it's wrong.  So you don't do it.

Unfortunately, oddly, surprisingly, dishearteningly, and sadly the same does not hold true with adoption jokes.........even in 2012 when adoption is so prevalent, wonderful, touching, life altering...........and normal.........there are those that still think it's okay to joke about being adopted as if it's a negative thing.

And almost more frustrating to me, there are those that rush to the defense of the one who told the joke after it's clear that others didn't think the joke was funny with, "People need to relax, it was was just a joke," "I'm adopted and I think adoption jokes are hilarious," "My daughter is adopted and I'm going to teach her to relax and laugh at jokes like this," "I know you didn't mean any harm so it's okay."

Seriously.......WHAT?

Exchange the word 'adopted' with African American, Jewish, Chinese, or any other race or ethnicity.  I'm guessing the support for whoever told that joke would quickly fall by the way-side.......as it should.

Bad judgement is bad judgement.  Period.  It doesn't need rallying troops to smooth it over and make it 'okay.' It doesn't need cheerleaders to make people who (rightly) had a problem with it feel like they are uptight, judgmental, and sheltered.  It just needs to be corrected with a simple, "I'm sorry, I was wrong. I had a lapse in good judgement."

And that goes for when people tell adoption jokes too.

Children who are adopted don't generally have a choice over being adopted--because it happens when they're babies or toddlers, or very young.  Many of them are born into it.  And most of them are fine with it.....hopefully even proud of it.  They may have questions about their identify, the details of the adoption, or how it effects them going forward, but they're usually not ashamed of it and they certainly aren't into making jokes about how it's a terrible and dreadful thing.

And I firmly believe they shouldn't be made to feel like adoption jokes are something they need to learn to tolerate because they're "just jokes," and they need to "relax" about them.

I know I've written about this before.  I know I sound a little fiery.  I know I'm on a soapbox......and I won't get down when it comes to this topic.

Sometimes this issue crosses my path again though--where I least expect it and I have to grab that bull by the horns.  Writing about it helps solidify my thoughts on it.  Writing about it is me--exercising my voice on a topic that I now have the life experience to write about.

If we have a voice on something--we should not silence it.

As a society we need to strike adoption jokes from our vocabulary--in any context, however light-hearted they may seem.  They are always inappropriate, they do not demonstrate any kind of sensitivity, and they are more than just politically incorrect--they are rude and mean-spirited.  They make fun of something that an adoptee has no control over; something they can't help.

And I believe that just like we intrinsically know we shouldn't make racist jokes, we know we shouldn't make adoption jokes. And when you hear someone making one tell them to 'knock it off.' Don't tell them 'it's okay--you know they meant no harm--or that others need to relax.'

Because this adoptive mama?  I'm not relaxing.  Not about this.