Turkey Trot

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not athletic. I was the kid who barely passed gym. My poor father, who loves most sports, was saddled with daughters who had limited physical ability. I remember one cool rainy morning he took my younger sister and me to the basketball court to teach us to play hoops. We were terrible.

My husband is also athletic. He likes most sports, primarily ones that test endurance. As a member of the armed forces he is required to be at least moderately fit. But he actually enjoys it. He likes the early mornings and running and pushing himself physically. These are feelings I simply don’t relate to. This is why it is absurd that I decided to participate in the Turkey Trot 5k.

Seriously wasn't even tired after chasing Little Man everywhere before the run.

Now, my dislike for sports doesn’t mean that I don’t work out. I do. I have always liked dance and used to perform so that is how I stay healthy. I have videos and shake what my mamma gave me 4 to 5 days a week and hour each time. But for some reason I thought the 5k would be fun. I figured if I walked rather than run the 3.1 miles all would be fine.

We woke up at the same time we always do, 5:30 am. This is when my 3 year old alarm clock usually goes off; we still can’t figure out how to set the snooze on him. I dressed for the brisk 40 degree weather and we set out for the location. I agreed to walk over to the starting line mostly because I thought it was closer to where we actually live. I was wrong. It was roughly a half mile away. But I was feeling fine pushing our double stroller along, affectingly called Strollersaurus Rex, with Baby Girl sipping her milk and Little Man running alongside his daddy. We arrived at the tent with plenty of time to spare before the start of the run. The kids played while I was introduced to a couple of my husband’s co-workers. And then I found a spot at the back of the group waiting for the start to be called.

Drinking hot cider before the run. Clearly I'm a pro at this.

Going into this morning I knew that I would be moving slower than many of the others. I have never pretended for a single moment that I am a runner so I planned on walking. Not to mention that I was pushing about 70 lbs the whole way. They called start, the crowd moved forward and for a split second I thought I can do it! And then I started getting passed. By everyone. Seriously, little kids were passing me. If you’ve ever been non-athletic you might remember that feeling of dread when you realize you wouldn’t be picked for a team or that when you tried to play flag football you would truly suck. That’s the feeling that washed over me. I honestly thought of turning around and grabbing some yummy apple cider they had at the tent instead of continuing.

Superfluous Mt. Fuji picture. Our view during the run.

But I didn’t. I walked. And then I met another mom also walking with a stroller containing her 8 month old daughter. So, we walked together and chatted the whole way. We were passed by the runners coming back from the half way point. We were passed by both of our husbands. By the time we were three quarters finished both of our guy’s had turned around and joined us for the last leg. I finished in 50 minutes and 20 seconds, give or take. I was almost last (we had passed a group of kids). I was tired, my shoulders and arms were sore from pushing Baby Girl and Little Man, my hips hurt a little but I did it.

I don’t think I will be doing another 5k. Outside of meeting a few new people I didn’t really enjoy myself; didn’t feel that fabled runners high. What I felt was lame for taking so long but it was quickly dashed when the group we met started cheering me on as I approached.

 

After the run. Clearly some of us didn't want to be photographed. 

I am proud that my children were there to see me accomplish something outside of my comfort zone. I was happy to show them that it’s ok to feel uncomfortable and scared sometimes as long as you try your best. And then after you try, you can be rewarded with pancakes. Hey, a girl’s gotta eat.  

Michelle and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I’m just going to say it: today has been a crap day. From start to finish, things have not worked in my favor. Today I am feeling very much like Alexander during his infamous no good, very bad day. In fact, I did something that I very rarely do; I had a temper tantrum of my very own. Let’s discuss…

You know those times when you wake up mad at your spouse because you dreamed they were mean to you? Mine was like that, only it was Patrick Stewart. I realize this sounds funny but the last thing I did on the internet was look at a pic of him goofing off around NYC with Ian McKellen, so there you go. Waking up after dreaming of rudeness left me in a slightly grumpy mood. After trying to shake it off in the shower, I joined my son in the living room and spent the next hour begging, bribing and threatening Little Man into being quiet so Baby Girl could sleep. 

Two of my favorite actors. They know what they did.

I then grabbed my laptop where first email I saw  was from the only licensed hair stylist on base saying she’s not accepting new clients. She very kindly asked me to check back in March. Ladies, you know how devastating news like this can be especially if you just left a stylist you love on the other side of the world. I started running through my list of to-do’s feeling a bit overwhelmed and decided to try and bake a little something for my neighbor. And then the worst thing in the whole wide world happened. I didn’t have the proper sized baking sheet.

This truly insignificant problem I faced was enough for me to have a temper tantrum right there in my kitchen. The kind I would normally send my children off to their rooms for. And then something even worse happened; my mood started rubbing off on Little Man and Baby Girl. My son was talking back and yelling while my daughter was throwing her body on the floor and feeding the dog off the table. 

She's mad because she didn't want to make her own Lego rocket.

There are days when I am more excited for nap time than I am for Christmas. Today was one of those days but alas, it was just as bad as the morning.  Thirty minutes in, my son’s alarm clock went off. An hour in he woke up with sleep terrors. And then again at the hour and a half mark. Two hours later the house was finally quiet when my husband walked in the door a couple of hours early, which woke up both kids for good.

My son's favorite book and today's general theme.

I sit here on the floor in my kitchen, tired and overwhelmed and asking myself why I gave in to the misplaced anger I felt towards a baking sheet, the single choice I made kicking off this long awful day (I have forgiven Sir Patrick as he was a figment of my imagination an cannot be held responsible). It occurs to me I have been feeling isolated and a loss of independence that are directly related to our move two months ago. Isolation because there are only a handful of hours when my loved ones back home and I are awake at the same time. This thought alone makes me feel far away. And the loss of independence because we have only one car which my husband uses to go to work. Sure there are other ways of getting around like walking everywhere or the shuttle, but these are not always practical options. Now there must be planning in order to run a simple errand. 

Look, we all have moments of insanity. I have forgiven myself and so has my family for behaving like a 2 year old. And rather than continuing the pity party (sorry no balloons at this kind of shindig) I have decided to take action. I borrowed a baking sheet. We'll have a second car by Friday. I will Skype and call my loved ones whenever I feel alone and will work harder to put myself out there when meeting new people. And I will have a much deserved glass of wine. Today sucked. But some days are like that. Even in Japan.

Drinky-poo

Letting Go of Mommy Time for Quality Time

There are few occasions when I get to run errands alone. On those days I leave the house early, grab my music and my headphones and rock out to whatever the latest my at-home DJ (a.k.a. The Husband) has loaded for me. I enjoy those moments like I used to enjoy going out for happy hour. That’s my way of saying, I love them. Saturday there was a craft fair and I am the only person in my family who really enjoys such things. I had planned on taking my happy lonesome tush and my music off to the fair for some shopping, a trip I had been looking forward to all week.

Oldie but a goodie. Little Man and me at a summer's party.

When I woke up that day I was still a little sniffy, but was ready for a morning of solitude. Then I saw my poor sad husband’s eyes. If you’ve read my last post you will note that we have a sickness running through the members of our home. Saturday morning, my husband woke with all the symptoms our children and I had been fighting the week. There was no way I could leave this man with two rambunctious (oh yeah, they were bouncing off the walls) toddlers while I basked in my music and alone-ness. So, I decided to turn my mommy time into a mommy-son date.

Little Man was so happy to leave the house for the first time in days that he was beside himself. Even after he realized it wouldn’t be the type of fair he was hoping for (I had to explain more than once that there would be no games or balloon animals, just shopping) he ended up doing alright. Except for the moment when he lifted my skirt so all our fellow shoppers could see my goods; thank goodness for opaque tights. Or that moment when he got overwhelmed by all of the people and insisted I carry him even though we had a stroller, a purse and a small shopping bag. But he was right about one thing: they did have balloon animals, or rather, a balloon alien. A purchase that I still feel was worth the trip.

Coolest balloon alien ever. Totally won points for this one. 

We were there for maybe an hour then ended our morning with lunch at a local family restaurant. So I didn’t get to spend the morning with my iPod. I got to spend it with my son. There are plenty of days in my future that I will be able to spend alone. The ones I have with my Little Man are fewer every day. I have no illusion that these moments will last forever and this isn't to say I'll never again request alone time (a girl needs a break). I’m just glad I get to spend time with him while he thinks I’m still cool. 

Man Sick

We’ve all heard the term “man sick’ before and, while I try not to believe in generalizations, in my house this is a real thing. Both of my kids are sick. It’s nothing too terrible; just lots of snot (I hope you weren't eating). The difference between how my son reacts to sickness and how my daughter does is astounding. Little Man is about a day ahead on symptoms including the runny nose and low-grade fever. He hasn’t moved voluntarily from the same spot on the sofa in two days. I have to carry him into the bathroom and to the dinner table. He whines and cries every time he needs to wipe his nose. He is already a very affectionate child but now he won’t let me leave his side. Not a complaint, mind you, just a way of showing how truly pathetic he is at the moment.

The pout wasn't staged. He was actually making that face while watching T.V.

Baby Girl is also sick. She has the same runny nose, same low grade fever as her big brother. But somehow she is still running around in circles, pulling things off shelves and generally being a precocious 2 year old. See the difference? He is full on man sick (a trait he gets from his father, by the way) while she is mustering the energy for her usual shenanigans. And this isn’t something new in our household. This has been who my children are from the moment they got their very first sniffle. Little Man is a zombie while Baby Girl finds other things to do than worry about her illness.  

Also not staged. She's just naturally adorable.

The dynamic between the two of them during this time of illness has actually provided some mild entertainment for me. We’ve been doing nothing but watching kids shows and movies for a couple of days, all of which have been watched more than once in the last couple of weeks. You know how kids are, they pick a movie that they love for a short while but end up watching it so many times that they, and inevitably you, know the whole thing verbatim. That’s how I learned every song in The Lorax in 3 days. Anyway, now that her brother is withering away, Baby Girl has sensed the power shift and is now taking full advantage of his weakened state. She’s been sneaking up on him to poke him and then runs away in a fit of giggles. She will proudly steal his left over Cheerio’s (yes, I know it’s gross to eat his sick food, but I am only one woman) and gobble them down right in front of him. She is so proud of getting his goat that it’s hard not to laugh sometimes.

I know how this will end. Little Man will feel better in the next day or two and finally be well enough to fight back. I can already hear the screaming and unbridled anger over who gets to play with the new toy sushi set. But for now, I will enjoy the cuddles I get from Little Man and Baby Girl will enjoy her moment as King of the Hill. 

Bringing Home the Bacon and Frying it in the Pan

Me with co-workers a few years ago. I have on lipstick!

My last job outside of the home was about 2 years ago. I left it when my son was 11 months old. I had planned for a while to stay home with our children before even having them but the cost of adoption made it so I had to stay in the work force a little bit longer. I loved my job, and was pretty good at it too. But I missed my son every moment I was away from him. I would daydream between meetings of standing in my kitchen making beautiful meals, hair blow dried and quaffed , clothes perfectly matched, while my son would play quietly. I dreamed of a house that was always clean and tidy and perfect for the cover of BH&G, making time for exercise, crafts and home school. I honestly saw myself as the modern day Donna Reed. I figured, lesser people were good at it, so I would be too.

It only took a few weeks for reality to set in. I was home, alone, with my Little Man. All Day. My husband traveled regularly so there were weeks when it was me without any family around to ask for help. Working meant I didn’t spend a ton of time making other mommy friends so I knew no one. Little Man was an early walker and very adventurous which meant there was no sitting and playing quietly. He has always wanted all of the attention focused on him so cooking, cleaning and crafting had to be done either while he was screaming or sleeping. Workouts happened as long as I am

alert at 5am. I very quickly went from work attire to my mom uniform of jeans + top + boots/flats (footwear directly related to the season). My hair lived in a ponytail or top knot. It’s safe to say that my image of what stay-at-home mommy-hood would be and what reality was weren’t perfectly lining up.

entertain kids with selfies. 

But eventually we got into a grove and started thinking about baby number two. You would think adoption would take the spontaneity out of building a family, but not for us. We assumed that a second adoption would take a year at the very least but it was only two months of waiting when we brought Baby Girl home. Once again, I imagined I would be carrying baby around as my son strolled his way into toddlerhood. Once again, perception and reality didn’t match. And I began to day dream of work. I know I work, but I mean work. The kind that required me to get dressed and be important and have adult conversations. I also missed my paycheck. I missed having disposable income and felt somehow that my role in the family was lessened because I wasn’t contributing financially.

This job is hard. I can’t take a smoke break (quit) or a lunch break (have to feed kids first) and my adult conversation usually comes in the form of Real Housewives (no judging please). But when I reminisce about work I also have to remember that my commute was 2-3 hours every day, I only saw my son for an hour in the morning and on the weekends, I was too tired to do anything other than sleep or curl up on the sofa. So what my house is imperfect. I get to cuddle my babies. So what my hair isn’t always done. I get to be there when my son proudly announces that he remembered to go to the potty instead of having an accident. I also get to watch my Baby Girl develop a sassy, funny personality. These are things I would miss if I went back to work.

dyeing eggs one handed while holding a baby. work it!

For now, working is unlikely, simply because of our current living situation. Not speaking the local language seems to effect job prospects. I know I’ll go back one day, probably when my kids are in school full time. But even with the daydreams of the corporate world come creeping back so do the feelings of loss when thinking of leaving my babies. Being a stay-at-home mom is hard, but so is being a working-mom. Being a mom is hard. All I can do is try my best and make sure to add to the therapy fund once in a while. 

One Sick Mamma

I’m sick. It’s just a little cold but I have a stuffy nose, watery eyes and my body hurts. So what do I choose to do with my time? Well, I can promise you it wasn’t rest in my bed and drink plenty of fluids. Instead, my husband and I took the kids to a fall festival. And then we ran a couple of errands before going home where I promptly crashed for the next 2 hours on the sofa. I did choose to stay home from the BBQ next door but popped out a couple of times to help the hubby take care of the kiddos. And then in an attempt to give my husband a night off (one he didn’t request) I took the kids inside until bedtime. I chose to do all of this instead of lay in bed and I wasn’t even asked. This isn’t even the first time I’ve ignored what was best for me when trying to heal my body. I had sinus surgery a year ago and even the doctor said his patients who are moms tent to heal slower because they are constantly doing things other than resting. For two weeks I wasn’t supposed to lift more than ten pounds which meant not carrying Baby Girl. Not gonna work. Even my son thinks I’m nuts. He saw me sneeze and told me I should wait until I feel better to go to the train museum, a trip he’s been begging to go on for weeks.

Recovering from sinus surgery day two. Day three I found ways of sneaking out of bed even though I was still on painkillers. 

I had a conversation about being sick with a close friend of mine. She’s getting over a cold too and did the same thing I did; sucked it up and worked through it instead of giving her body the rest it so needed and deserved. She’s raising 4 kids, working full-time and writing a book. If anyone I know should have a day off, it’s her. We pondered what makes us keep moving even when our bodies are telling us not to. For her, it was a feeling of losing control. For me it was fear of being accused of laziness. Both are absolutely ridiculous.

What happens in my house if you hold still too long. 

So, with the insistence of my friend and my husband I took a nap during nap-time again and I loved every minute of it. I woke slightly more refreshed than when I laid down and was even nice to be around, if I do say so myself. My only chore was cooking but I was fully relaxed while doing it. I ate with my family and now am enjoying our 6^th showing of Despicable Me this week. Oh, and I will go to bed early, but only if I have completed posting pics, writing a blog and working on the Thanksgiving menu while also budget planning and figuring out what to do for our extra weekend day. Baby steps, people. Baby steps. 

Family Picture Day

A few days ago I saw the family photo’s we recently had taken. A local photographer and fellow military spouse lead us to a nearby pagoda. The car ride was fine, the kids were in good moods and I was hopeful that this year we were all have great big smiles and giggles during the shoot. My kids are generally very happy and love to get their pictures taken except on picture day. Baby Girl has a willful streak and does not like to perform on command. Little Man has no problem performing for an audience, but has such energy it can be impossible to get him to hold still. The combination of these two personalities has proven challenging in the past. Last year my daughter screamed and did the ugly cry almost the whole time we were posing and my son kept running through the fallen leaves. But I KNEW this year would be different.

Well it was better than last year, at least. Everyone was in a great mood until Baby Girl fell. Not just fell, but face-planted into the gravel. She wasn’t really hurt and didn’t even get a cut but it was enough for her to get mad and not want to leave my side for a single moment during the next hour of photo’s. Any time I tried to put her down or let go of her hand she would scream. Most of the pictures include her thumb firmly planted in her mouth. But the tears weren’t too bad and I had renewed hope that they would turn out.

Courtesy of Sarah Pagano Photography

This morning when I saw the photo’s I was so impressed and happy that they looked so good! They perfectly captured who we were; my handsome husband, my precocious son and my serious daughter. But it wasn’t the pictures that moved me as much as what the photographer wrote accompanying them. You see, we are an adoptive family. For us, it is simply how our family was created; adoption is a part of our lives and we talk openly and honestly with our children regarding their individual adoption stories. We encounter a lot of curious people who want to know more about adoption, each with his or her own motives.  But what is most interesting for me is seeing how others perceive adoption. The photographer did what I find most difficult, she was vulnerable. She discussed how we as military members all belong to a large adoptive family and how it related to her religion as well. It was beautiful.

So I will try and explain what adoption is to me. Adoption is the most selfish thing I have ever done. I asked two other women, mothers, in their darkest hour to hand over the most precious gifts my husband and I have ever received. There will never be a day that I will sufficiently say thank you to either of my children's birth parents. There simply aren’t enough words and will never be enough time. So I try my best with photo’s and letters. I honor them by telling my children who they are and why they are special. I fight back tears from the overwhelming emotion I feel when discussing my love for my children and the gratitude for their birth parents.

All this from an hour spent wrangling kids and trying to get something good for the Christmas card. It’s amazing the sentiment a simple photograph can provide.

Information for Sarah Pagano Photography can be found at:

http://allthethings.co/sarah-pagano-photography/

Here's to New Adventures!

We moved about a month and a half ago. It’s not the first time I’ve moved. Not by a long shot. In fact, I have moved more times I can count, as a young girl and as an adult. I’ve been fortunate to have lived all over the country, making friends wherever I go. You see, my parents were both in the Coast Guard and my husband of 10 years, David, is in the Air Force. Moving is nothing new to me. But this was the first time I’ve moved overseas. And with kids. Oh, and did I mention we have toddlers? No? Well, yeah, two toddlers; Little Man is three and Baby Girl is two. And a dog. And a cat. So moving to the other side of the planet was an adventure. At least the beginning of one.

There’s been a lot of change in my life lately. But this blog isn’t just about the change we’ve been experiencing as a family. It’s mostly about the daily joys and challenges of raising kids. I know what you’re thinking; do we really need yet another blog about family life? The answer  is a resounding “NO!” And that’s ok but hear me out. I’m writing because I find it’s a good way to reach other families like ours. I am also writhing to help others see that this whole parenting thing is simultaneously the most wonderful and terrifying experience I have had in my life, a feeling I’ve heard echoed throughout the various play groups and book clubs I’ve had the pleasure of joining. Whether stay-at-home or working outside of it, being a mommy can feel lonely and this way I can share, hopefully humorously from time to time, my experience.

Just a quick glimpse into my daily life:  As I type this post, I am kneeling on the floor of my room, laptop sitting on the bed because this is where I could find a free outlet, while my daughter wolfs down a graham cracker and raisins (her 3^rd meal before 10 am) and my son is jumping up and down on the bed I currently use as a desk. I am desperately avoiding the pile of craft supplies that need to be organized and reciting the Serenity Prayer regarding the left over Halloween candy sitting in my kitchen.

This is my life, as I am sure it is some of yours as well.