Category: Cole

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Activities Cole Mothering Parenting Ryan

The Iron Scooter Challenge

Ryan and Cole have been asking for scooters.  Their friends in the neighborhood all have scooters and they have been wanting to join them on their scooter rides.  I held off to make sure they really wanted them, and they have kept asking for them, so Wednesday night I got both boys a new scooter.    

Thursday after work was scooter inaugural day.  It was drizzling off and on, but they still wanted to try them out.  Ryan’s scooter popped out of the box.  There was a release lever I had to adjust, and his was ready to go.  He zipped around in the kitchen while I opened Cole’s. 

My palms turned sweaty, and my heart started beating fast, when I opened the box to Cole’s scooter and saw a bag of nuts, screws, washers, and other silver things, I had no name for.  There was also something that looked like a hybrid wrench, a piece of paper with a drawing of a scooter that looked like it was made by a 3-year old, the handle bars, and the front wheel.  It all clunked out of the box. 

I am NOT mechanical.  Assembling things together is one of the things I hate most.  There is ALWAYS a part missing, or part of the directions that don’t make sense.  If I had known I had to actually attempt to assemble Cole’s scooter, I would have waited until someone could help me.  But I was already too far in it.  I had my 6-year old zipping around in the kitchen on his scooter, and my almost 4-year old, with his big blue eyes looking at me, asking me when I would have his scooter together.  This is what “they” mean when “they” say parenting challenges you in ways you never imagine.

I picked up the directions, and the first step was:

Assemble back wheels with washers, axle, and spring washer 

What is a spring washer exactly? Are there summer and winter washers too?  The wheels were already on the deck.  Did this mean they weren’t really on securely, or someone nice from the factory did the first step for me?  I decided the latter, and moved on to step 2:

Insert axle through rear axle bearings

Uh-yea. I had no idea what that meant, so I hoped it was still a step I could skip thanks to the nice person in the factory in China.  Step 3:

Slide a plastic spacer and third washer onto axle bolt followed by second wheel

Yay- it was my lucky day. Clearly this step was also done too. Step 4:

More mumbo-jumbo about axels, washers, and nuts.  Then I noticed on the bottom of the directions, it said the assembly is for general use, and you may need to refer to the back side for more specific directions.  I knew it was too easy.   I read through the “specific” directions once, than twice, and then a third time.  They should have had a class in this mechanical language in school.  Step 1:

Slide metal washer down over the stem of the front forks.  Slide the stem of the front forks up into the main frame until it is seated on the metal washer at the base of the front forks stem.  Place the clamp bracket assembly over the stem of the front forks so that the nut and bolt face towards the foot deck.  Ensure the slot in the fork stem of the front forks faces towards the foot deck.

Dear God…what did I ever do to deserve this?  Forget Iron Chef- they should make a reality show on who can assemble kid’s stuff in under an hour.   

I won’t bore you with steps 3 and 4 of the instructions, but it got down to clamp nuts, 13mm spanners, and minimum / maximum heights.  Ryan was a great help- he held a lot of parts still for me while I twisted the hybrid wrench around the bolt. I just kept hoping,-somehow- when I was done, it would be a scooter. 

I finally had it together and had Cole get on it to try it out.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself, until he touched it, and the front handle bars, slid down all the way into the front pipe-thing.  If Cole was about 24 inches shorter, he would have had one cool scooter.  Instead he said, “I don’t think that is right Mommy.” 

So I took the damn scooter apart and started all over again.  Somehow the directions made just a little more sense, but that was probably because now I had read them fifty times, instead of just three times.  Half way through, I realized my error.  Silly me.  It was right there in step 1: Ensure the slot in the fork stem of the front forks faces towards the foot deck.  The small slot was not facing the foot deck- I had put it on backwards. 

I was humming “Hallelujah” as I screwed the final nut or bolt back on again.  My kids were not impressed.  Ryan was looking at me, and pointed to the front wheel. The handle bars were now turned backwards.  If Cole had Inspector Gadget arms, he would have had one cool scooter.

“They” say the third time is the charm.  I unscrewed all those fricking bolts, nuts, and autumn washers- again.  This time I had Ryan hold everything- the frame, the handle bars, and the front wheel while I assembled it.  Finally, when I was done, I kid you not, sun streamed in through the window, and I knew this was a sign.  The moment of truth came when he stepped on it.  Nothing fell down.  His arms worked with it.  Everything lined up right.  Cole had one cool scooter!

I am not going to go crazy and start buying stuff to assemble myself like bookcases, and desks, but I am glad I was able to figure it out. It only took three times, I had a slight headache when I was done, I had a washer left over- not sure if it was a spring or winter washer- but my son finally had his scooter.   

Pictures of the final products & the kids enjoying them:

Love his curled tongue

They found mud, and the scooters were now 4X drive scooters. Their first ride gets thumbs up 

Categories
Cancer Cole Family & Friends Health Running Ryan

The Perfect Race- The Perfect Ending

On Saturday I ran in the Eagle’s Heart 5K race, trying for my fastest 5K time.  My previous record had been 27:07.  In my last post I explained why I wanted to achieve this so much, and the work I was putting in for it.  My dad was also running in this race as his first 5K.  I had a flood of emotions on Friday.  Everything just hit me at once- cancer, my mom, where I had been health-wise last year.  It was a lot to think about.

I was afraid of failing for a reason I describe at the end of this post.  I thought back to all the runs I have done since September.  It occurred to me I have ran in a lot of different conditions.  I’ve run in freezing cold, and heat.  I’ve run when I was feeling great, and when I was feeling bad. I’ve ran fast, and I’ve ran slow.  I’ve ran in pain, and I’ve ran pain free. I’ve ran when I felt like I could go on forever, and I’ve ran where I like I couldn’t take another step.   I told myself I can run in any condition except one- fear.  I was never going to run with fear.

I got up at 6AM on Saturday, and made breakfast for my dad and I.  He made me breakfast for my first race, so I returned the favor.  He arrived at my house at 7, and said he was feeling great.  I had gotten over my funk, and I felt calm and ready.

It was quite a bit cooler and it was windy where the race was being held.  My dad and I warmed up, and walked across the street few minutes to the race site, before it started.  I told my dad I was so proud of him for getting himself in 5K running shape.  He told me I had been his inspiration, and that made me feel good.  He told me not to worry about him, and he’d meet me at the finish line.  A few moments after that, we were off! 

The course started out flat for about 30 seconds, and then there was a hill. I barely noticed it-I just saw the other runners ahead of me running up a hill. It was very satisfying to be able to run up a hill without it affecting my pace.  I didn’t want to get tied to looking at the Garmin, but when I looked at it a few second after the hill, my pace was at 7 minutes a mile.  I was right where I wanted to be. 

I started up at the front.  There were a few men passing me, but no women.  There was a woman who was about a tenth of a mile ahead of me.  She was running really well, and I thought if I could keep the gap between us where it was, I’d be doing really well too. There was enough room on the course to run.  I didn’t have to worry about strollers, or walkers, or having to pass a bunch of people. 

Then I just let everything go from my mind, and ran.  It was like my body took over- it knew what it needed to do. I had done this so many times, and under harder conditions, everything just flowed and came together.  My mind and body were working perfectly.  The first mile seemed to fly by.  I had run it in 7:24.

The second mile had been the hardest in training.  I tended to slow down too much, and then it was hard to pick the pace up again.  The Garmin really came in handy during the second mile.  At times I felt like I was too slow, but I’d look at my pace and see I was actually running faster than I needed to.  I made myself slow down a bit, because we were running down hills, and I knew those would be uphill in the third mile.  The runners who were in the lead started passing us on their return trip back.  I counted the women, and saw there were only 3 of ahead of me.  There had only been a handful of men too, and I started to get excited that I was pretty much in the front of pack.  I passed my dad, and he gave me a thumbs up. 

I was gaining on the woman who had been ahead of me.  We were just starting mile 3, and my pacing was great.  I had planned on running mile 3 in the 9 minute range, but I was running in the low 8 minute range.   After we ran up the hills, and the course evened out, I was starting to get tired. I wanted to try to pass her, but there was still almost a mile to go, and I didn’t want to put the last of my energy into passing her, and then not having enough to finish the race strong.   

I ran a bit slower in the last mile.  But when I came over the last hill, and saw there was about a quarter mile left, I looked at the Garmin and it said 24:24.  I couldn’t believe I had a chance to finish this race in less than 25 minutes!  It was time to give it my all, and go for it! 

It was the moment I had been working and training for.  I sprinted, and ran as fast as I could.  I was getting very tired, but something my friend told me popped in my head, and that was to keep setting goals and keep knocking them down.  I was almost there, and I gave it every last thing I had- I wanted to knock down the 25 minute goal.  I was not going to let that clock turn to 25 minutes, and not be on the other side of the finish line! 

I crossed the finish line, hit stop on my Garmin and it said 24:58.  Emotion hit me then. I had done it, exactly one year after all the uncertainty the cancer diagnosis brought.  But I had just run my perfect race, and the time proved it.  I ran strong, I ran fast, and I and I ran fearlessly.   It was one of the best experiences I have had. 

I drank some water, and then ran back to find my dad to run the rest of the race with him.  I found him with about half a mile to go.  He had taken off his coat and hat and was carrying them.  I took them from him and told him he was almost done.  We ran up that last hill together, and he saw the finish line.  I told him to run, he was almost there, and he was doing great.  He sped up a bit, and crossed the finish line at 33:12.

We were both so happy, and hung around the finish line to cheer for the other racers that were finishing.  As we were getting ready to walk back to the building, they posted the official results.  They had my time at 24:59.  My dad was the top third finisher for his age group, so he was going to get a medal!  (They combined the male and female top finishers for each age group, and they were all men in my age group, so that is why I didn’t qualify for a medal.)

I met up with woman who had been in front of me and I told her she had run a great race.  I told her I had been trying to catch her but couldn’t.  She told me she was glad to hear that, and said she had been worried about me the whole time passing her.  She mentioned she looked behind her throughout the race and saw I was right there.  She said I had been making her run faster, and I told her she had been making me run faster.  It was neat we both pushed each other to do a little better.  

I have not written the main reason why I wanted to break my record in this race.  It was for my boys, Ryan and Cole.  From the moment I found out I had cancer, I worried about them, and how it would affect them.  I worried what their lives would be like if I were sick, or could not maintain my level of activity with them.  Last summer, after my surgery and when my thyroid medication was messed up, I was so sick, and so weak, I could barely take care of them.  They watched me in this state, for almost three months.  They watched me and remember I was too sick to even walk up the stairs.  It was the absolutely worst thing about cancer- not being able to be there for them the way they needed me to. 

I wanted to show them they can overcome the hardest and unexpected obstacles life will throw at them- even cancer.  It might not come easy or instantly, and it might require a lot of hard work, but it is well worth the fight.   I never want them to feel like there is something that they cannot overcome. I wanted to show them, not just tell them, they can fight and work hard, and come back stronger than they were before, and achieve what at times, seems like the impossible. 

That is why I wanted this so much, and worked so hard for it.   So I could make this ending come true for my boys.     

Time: 24:59

Overall: 18th out of 67 runners

Overall Female: 4th out of 26

Female Age Group: 3rd place

My dad and I after the race
With the Bronze Medal Winner!

 

Categories
Cole Household Mothering Pregnancy & Birth Ryan

I’m a Pigsty Expert

I’ve been working with Ryan and Cole for a few weeks now, on cleaning up their playroom, and organizing everything. It is amazing at times how two boys can be so messy.  We started with the bookcase.  I took out every single book- all 500 of them (so it seems) and kept the ones that are age appropriate, and packed up the baby ones. 

Then we started in on the cars, trucks, trains, and anything else with four wheels.  Then I started finding  tire treads everywhere.  Evidently, Cole likes to take the tread off, and then throw all of them behind larger objects in the playroom. 

Every toy has many other little parts, and trying to find all the parts to the toys to put them away is taking so long.  Cole has been practicing cutting with scissors.  There are always scraps of paper everywhere that makes the floor look like Times Square after New Year’s.  Add to that, Ryan now uses the playroom as his “classroom” to play school.  Everytime I pick up a marker, or put a book away, he tells me he needs that- those are his teaching materials.   He really does have a class too.  He’s recruited the neighborhood children, and after they are all home from real school, they are now assembling in our playroom to play school.

The room is a wreck, and on Friday I finally had some more time to work with the boys and I was determined we were finally going to get the playroom clean and organized.  All was going well until five minutes into it, when I discovered “spit balls” all over the place.  When I asked what they were, Ryan said that was his science experiment- he was making paper.  

I told the boys that there was to be no more water in the playroom.  Then I uttered those five words- those five words I heard growing up: “This room is a pigsty!”  The boys looked at me. The rest of the interaction went like this:

COLE: Mommy, what is a pigsty?

ME: A pigsty is where pigs live, and it is dirty, messy, and gross.  Just like this room.

COLE: But we aren’t pigs- we are boys.

ME: But your room looks like where pigs live.

RYAN: Pigs live on the farm, in mud. There’s no mud in here. 

ME: Yes, but their sty is where they live on the farm, and there probably is mud in here- we just haven’t found it yet.

RYAN: When did you see a pigsty? 

ME: I see a pigsty every time I walk in this room.  

RYAN: Pigs like to be dirty.

COLE: Yea, pigs like to be dirty, and we like our playroom.

ME: Well I don’t, and we aren’t going to keep this room like a pigsty anymore.  We are going to clean it up, until we are done.

RYAN and COLE (silence and then): OINK, OINK!

On Saturday we worked all day, and we made a lot of progress.  After the second trash bag was filled, I realized I am a full-fledged pigsty expert. And I remembered this: (watch at the 3 minute mark to 4 minutes)

Clearly, I’m following the universally-accepted-standard-mother sayings.  When we start in on the pigsty room again, I”ll just have to step it up a notch and tell the boys, “if you think this room is going to stay a pigsty, you have another thing coming.” 

I am sure the response will be the same: oinks, and they will probably ask what is the other thing coming is.  🙂  

Categories
Cole Mothering Parenting Work

The Pink Lizard and Adjustments

Last summer, the boys’ daycare provider closed her daycare.  Cole had been with her since he had been 18 months old.  She loved the boys, and the boys loved her.  We have always been fortunate and thankful the boys’ grandmother can watch the boys on the long days I work.  

On the shorter days, Ryan is in school now, so I had to find part-time care for Cole and back-up care.   When I found J., our previous provider, it was a little easier because I had two kids that needed care.  Finding part-time care for one child, was a challenge-most providers don’t accept part-time kids.  It took me almost two months to find an acceptable replacement.    

In late November, I found A., who was willing to take Cole on a part-time basis, and to provide back-up care when the boys’ grandmother isn’t available.  When we met A., I had both boys with me, and Cole was happy as a clam.  There was another boy who was also 3, who attended full-time, so Cole would have a friend to play with.  They played great together while we were there for our interview, and everything seemed and felt right. 

But every time it is time to go to A’s, Cole cries.  He says he doesn’t like it, and he wants me to stay home with him.  Last week he asked me why I have to go to work. I haven’t experienced “mommy guilt,” on a regular basis, but the past few months it hits me every time I take him to A.’s. Last week he cried for 20 minutes when I dropped him off.  It wasn’t just a tear- he was sobbing.  I felt like I was sending him off to war. 

Part of it is he has never done anything on his own without Ryan.  Whenever he has been away from myself or his dad, Ryan has been with him, or he was in the care of his grandparents.  Part of it is he doesn’t attend day care full time, so it makes the adjustment harder.  Part of it is he is 3.  It is a hard age for changes. 

A. has been great.  I have no qualms about the care she is giving Cole.  She has done daycare for 25 years, and is very capable and loving.  She told me last week Cole almost has fun, if he would just let himself go.  She said it is like he starts to have fun, and the “remembers” he isn’t supposed to like being there, so he gets upset.  Last week we made a few changes, and I was actually greeted with a smiling boy when I picked him up.  A. switched their art days to times when Cole would be there.  He had painted two pictures, and was so proud. We also let him decide if he wanted to take a nap, or just have quiet resting time.  The choice seemed to give Cole a little control.

When we got home, I gave Cole some tape and told him he could hang the picture anywhere he wanted.  He hung it right above my bed.  I realized that he was so proud he had something to bring home.  Ryan brings home enough papers, drawings, books, and artwork to open a gallery.   Cole never seemed to be bothered by this, but I think he liked having something he brought home.

The boys ask me what we are doing the next day at bedtime.  When I have told Cole the next day was a day at A.’s, he would cry.  Last night he didn’t cry.  This morning he wasn’t stressed and didn’t cry in the car on the way over, but he did want me to hold his hand as we walked up to her door. 

A little girl in the daycare throws her arms around Cole the minute we walk in, and usually Cole stands as stiff as a board.  Today he hugged her back.  He asked me what colors I liked, because he was going to make me another picture.  I told him, gave him a hug, and then he left me to go play with the other little boy.  When I picked him up, he was so proud to show me that he had made me two pictures.  One of them was a hot pink lizard with a red tongue.  He said he made it pink, because that is a girl color.  When we got home, he hung it up right next to his picture from last week.

It is one of the hardest things to have to leave your child, when they are crying at daycare.  It is hard when they are happy, but at least you can tell yourself they are having a good time while you are gone.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if things didn’t improve.  It didn’t feel right to have Cole so upset when it was time to go to A.’s, but I also don’t have a lot of options.  I’m relieved that it doesn’t appear that I will have face that issue.

Having your child make a change out of necessity, whether it is day care, or because a new sibling is born, etc. is tough.  But it also gives the child a sense of accomplishment, as they adjust.  Sometimes it takes longer than we would like, but more often than not, they get there.  As parents, we don’t always have all the answers.  At times you just have to listen to your instincts, go with what you think is best, and hope it turns out okay for everyone involved.     

As Cole handed me my painting today with a big, happy, smile on his face, I was so proud of him.  He’s adjusting to daycare as he needs to, and in his own way- today was the turning point, and a milestone for him.  He will be fine.  And I will always have one very special pink lizard painting-to remind me.   

Categories
Activities Cole Family & Friends Holidays Parenting Ryan

Christmas and Divorce

I have chosen up to this point not to write about any aspects of my divorce.  I have had many reasons for choosing not to write about this subject.  Many of those reasons are still in place, and one of these reasons was, I didn’t see what good or what positive aspects could come from blogging about a divorce. 

This past Christmas was the first Christmas where Ryan and Cole’s time was divided between their father and I.  It was also the last holiday, since we have been apart, that we had to face, and also it is the “biggest.”  Christmas is all the holidays rolled into one, and then some- especially for children.  My boys start asking in July when Christmas is coming.  As a parent, there is nothing quite like seeing your children’s face’s light up with excitement on Christmas morning when they see the tree and the presents under it.  It is the epitome of childhood.

And the fact of being divorced is, one parent isn’t going to experience that every year.  Some divorced parents switch off years,  and some divide the time.  We decided to try to keep things as they had been in the past this year, so the boys spent Christmas Eve with me, and my family.   Ryan and Cole got to visit with my mom, who lives out of state, and their great-grandpa, who moved to Colorado this year.  Their two teen-aged cousins wrestled and rough-housed with them, which they loved and they helped them make a gingerbread house.  Of course there were a lot of presents, but for the first time, I noticed the boys were more interested in playing with people than playing with the gifts all night.   Their dad came and got them later at night on Christmas Eve, and then the boys spent Christmas with him and his family. 

After the boys had left my aunt’s house on Christmas Eve, I cried.  I haven’t cried over any holiday, but there was something very isolating, and hollow not having my children with me for this holiday.  My tears didn’t last long, because I knew the boys were going to have fun, and they were fine.  They were excited about Santa coming in the morning.  It obviously helped that I was around my immediate family too. 

On Christmas Day, I missed the boys terribly.  I imagined they were having fun, and that is what mattered.  That evening the boys called me and my heart melted when Ryan excitedly told me on the phone, “Mom, I had the best day!”  He explained what he had done, and the gifts he had received.  A part of me was sad, because I had not been a part of his day, but he was happy.  He wasn’t sad, asking where I had been, or why we couldn’t be together, or any of those type of things.  I talked to Cole, and he was happy and excited too. 

The good I think can come from sharing this experience is, despite the difficulties divorce brings, especially with children, all that mattered on Christmas was that Ryan and Cole were happy, and had the best Christmas ever.  Perhaps that says something about our Christmases past, but I think it says more about all the members of the families involved- on both sides.  All the grandparents, all the aunts, all the uncles, and all of the cousins. 

When my children are grown, I don’t want them to look back at the holidays and remember “that was my year with Mom, or that was my year with Dad.”  I want them to remember the joy, the happiness, the excitement, and the love they received from and felt for their families.  I know that was accomplished throughout the last year, and especially this Christmas Eve and Christmas. 

Thank you to all members of both Ryan and Cole’s family for this.  It could have been a very hard holiday for them, but it wasn’t.  It was magical and loving for them- just as it should be.