If you have been a reader of my blog for awhile, or know me, you know that I have been in the midst of a divorce for a year and a half. Last week after a trial, it was final.
I’ve debated over the last year and a half, on how much I should blog about the divorce, and what was going on with it. I felt like some of what I was experiencing could help others in similar situations. But because of the nature of it, I decided the less I wrote about it, the better.
One thing that surprised me somewhat, but probably shouldn’t have, was during the court trial, my ex-husband’s attorney threw out quotes from my blog, and mentioned some of the things regarding my health, and running that I have written, in order to portray me negatively in the manner she needed to.
As I sat there listening to her use my announcement that I was cancer free, and the information I have shared about running, to make her case, it was unsettling. I wrote those things, and shared them to help other people, and to let other cancer patients know there is hope and life after having cancer. Perhaps I was too naive- I didn’t think what I wrote would be turned and twisted around by an attorney, who was trying to show I don’t work full-time for my own selfish reasons.
I know the reasons I haven’t gone to work full-time since my cancer recovery, and they have nothing to do blogging and running. They have everything to do with my boys, and my being available for them-especially while their parents were getting divorced. That might not make me the most successful person in my profession, or have me earning the most money I possibly can, but it has provided my children a sense of stability and normalcy through the divorce.
I know I made the right decision for Ryan and Cole. I will never look back at the last year and a half, and regret I didn’t have a full-time job. I will remember I was there for my kids so their routine was not drastically changed. I will remember I was there on Ryan’s first day of kindergarten. I’ll remember standing at the bus stop with Ryan each morning and being there every afternoon when he got off the bus, until he gained the confidence himself. I will remember his smile when I volunteered in his classroom. I will remember helping Ryan with his homework when he came home, having a snack with him and Cole, and talking about our day. I will remember on the two days off a week I had, the one-on-one time Cole and I shared. I will remember drawing, coloring, and baking with him. I will remember playing farm, village, and fireman. I will remember reading books to him, and going to the park. I will remember talking to the boys about divorce, and the feelings they were having. I will remember I was available for them during this incredibly difficult process.
It turned out to be the right decision for me not to blog any specifics about the divorce. My advice to any other parents who are wondering if they should blog about their divorce- don’t. Written words are so easily twisted and taken out of context. Be there for your kids, and do what you need to do for them. When it is all over, what is really important- and all that matters anyway, is you were there.
Childhood is full of milestones: first smile, first laugh, crawling, first word, walking, and the list goes on. Sometimes it seems with a baby, new milestones are reached every day and are noted. Now that my kids are getting older, these events seem fewer and far between. Or maybe as parents, we just grow accustomed to our kids doing new things, so not everything they do draws the attention like it did when they were babies.
Recently, Ryan had two milestones that made me stop and take notice. The first one was last week, on the day I pick him up from school. The class was lined up outside, like they always do, and his teacher, Mrs. G., excuses the kids to go with their parents. When she called Ryan’s name, he went and gave her a big hug. Then he walked over to me, and I started to hug him, like I always do, and he pushed me away. Then he said, “Not at school, Mom.”
I was a little puzzled since he had just hugged Mrs. G. I guess it is okay to hug your teacher, but not your mom. As we walked to the car, I asked him if he was too big now to hug me. He kind of avoided the question, until we were in the car, and then said, “I still want to hug you, but not in front of people, Mom.” I joked with him and told him he was too cool now to hug me, and I understood.
But wow. That happened fast.
The second event started last week. We were at Costco getting the tires rotated, and Ryan told me he had to use the restroom. I started to take him, and then asked him if he was okay going to the men’s room. He told me yes, he could read, and he knows which one is the men’s room. I didn’t want to follow him too closely, but I watched him from afar, and he went into the men’s room, and came out a few minutes later. He told me he washed his hands, and he added, “I am a man now, because I use the men’s room.”
I told him he wasn’t quite a man yet, but he was on his way, and he was big enough to go to the restroom by himself when we are out- he just has to tell me. So today we were out, and he told me he was going to go use the men’s room.
It seems funny but also a bit sad at the same time. As a mother, seeing your children become a little less dependent on you, it reminds you of how helpless they once were, but also how incredibly far they have come. It’s a part of life. It doesn’t mean though at times, it isn’t bittersweet.
It makes me cherish the time I have with Cole, who can’t hug me enough, and doesn’t want to use the men’s room by himself-yet.
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
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.
Ryan’s first tooth has been loose for a few weeks, and he has been very adamant about letting it fall out on its own. I have checked it every night since I’ve been back in town. Last night it felt like I could have pulled it out, but he didn’t want me to.
Ryan brushes his teeth on his own, and then when he’s done I do a follow-up. I am usually in the bathroom with him when he starts, but tonight I was helping Cole in the other room. When I got into the bathroom, Ryan was finishing his teeth and I took his toothbrush, like I always do. He stopped me so he could spit out the toothpaste he had in his mouth. As soon as I started brushing, I saw the blood and stopped. I told him his tooth had fallen out!
Cole immediately started to cry- he seems to have a thing about teeth and the Tooth Fairy, but that’s another story. I asked Ryan if the tooth was in his mouth. He put his hand in his mouth and then saw the blood on his hand and started to cry too. I have been telling him for weeks when he loses his tooth, it will bleed for a little bit. Evidently, that prepping didn’t help. I gave him a washcloth, and tried to calm him down. I asked him if the tooth was in his mouth, and he said no. He was scared we couldn’t find his tooth.
I felt so sorry for him. He said a first grader had told him just today that his sister swallowed her tooth and she died. So I reassured him no less than twenty times, that swallowing a tooth will not cause you to die. It finally dawned on me that he probably had spit it out with his toothpaste, right before I started brushing his teeth, because he never swallows toothpaste.
If I were handy with a wrench, I would try to take the sink apart to see if I could find it. It is his first baby tooth after all. But considering I’ve never done that before, this probably isn’t the best time to try to figure out a project like that.
So we will not have his first baby tooth to give to the Tooth Fairy tonight. Ryan arranged his pillows special, so she won’t have any trouble leaving him some money. On a side note, I have been trying to decide what the going rate is for the Tooth Fairy is these days. Ryan seems happy when he gets a quarter, but also knows paper money is worth more, so I think he will be very happy with $2 for his first tooth. I plan to tell him subsequent teeth only bring in $1.
