Words of Wisdom

I think I will be able to say this.

Yesterday's beautiful, sunny afternoon lured me into the great outdoors to ride my bike.  I was thinking, "I will get a good ride in this afternoon.  I can do this.  9 miles.  Cake."  I haven't ridden since last Fall sometime, and the ache in my behind today made that quite clear.   Not that it wasn't clear yesterday as I was riding up  Creedmoor Road -- I think I will rename it Ass-Kickin' Hill.  Yeah.  The 6-mile ride kicked my butt for sure.  But, unless you count the two unfortunate bike chain incidents, I did not stop.  I think my brain pretty much understood that was the expectation.  However, my thighs did not.  They were shot afterwards.  But, Rome wasn't built in a day.  And I can't get my body tri-ready in a day, either.  

So to say I was a little defeated yesterday after my workout is an understatement.  After it started to kick my butt, my bike started to kick my butt and the chain came off and it ruined my ascent up a very tough hill.  I was looking for a little encouragement after my less-than-stellar finish, and I found it in the strangest place.  Pinterest.  Who knew I could find encouragement there?  Yes, I find plenty of must-make recipes, need-to-do-it-now crafts, even earth-friendly cleaning solutions. But words of encouragement?  Could God be speaking to me through a social-networking site?  Maybe not.  I think I was just looking for words because I needed them, and there they were.  Right on Pinterest. 

Oh, yeah, baby.  Not stoppin'.

It is becoming really, really clear to me how important my mindset is in training for this tri.  I know, I know.  You're thinking, "Is she really gonna do this?"  Yeah.  I am, so bite your tongue and don't ask again.  And that's why I am getting my rear in gear so my body will be ready.  I feel pretty confident that I could finish today.  But the finish wouldn't be pretty, and I want it to be pretty.  Not fast, but a solid finish.  I'm not in it to win it but, clearly, the finish is more important to me. 

So true of me.  A very dangerous way to think.

I have to think I can do this.  As I wrote about in my previous post, I haven't ever really thought of myself as an athlete.   I realize the importance of that now.  Yes, I run and I bike with my family and we occasionally hike, but do these things make me an athlete?  Maybe not, but pushing myself  just might.  It's not who you are that holds you back from going after things in life, it's who you think you're not.  Exactly!  And that is why I have taken to posting these words on my fridge.  I want them to be there to remind me a hundred times a day that the only person that can defeat me, the only person standing in the way of my success, is me.  I have to train my body, but I have to train my mind, too.

So, today I have a new outlook.  It's a new day, and I woke up ready to tackle the treadmill.  I kicked its butt today, and that made me feel better about yesterday's ride.  A thought occurred to me while I was running today...maybe it will help if I start wearing Under Armour workout gear.  Athletes wear that, right?  And, after all, I am an athlete.  Or at least, I'm gonna be.

Just Tri Me

You're NEVER in a million years going to guess what THIS post is about. 

I have never been an athlete.  I was on the tennis team in high school -- for one year.   Coach Jerry Clemens and all of his slimy, lecherous ickyness pretty much made me want to cut my hands off rather than serve or practice my backhand even one more time.   We'll say that after that one Spring season, I chose instead to stay home and wash my hair.  Sports -- yeah.  Not my thing.  I was good with that.

I have never thought of myself as an athlete.  A few months after Thomas was born, Chi convinced me to buy another jogging stroller so we could run together.  You know, he could push one child while I could push the other -- all while running.  Uphill.  For the first time ever in my life.  With an extra 20 pounds of stroller and baby and who knows how much baby weight.  I think I bought the thing just to humor him.  He loves to be active.  He's my active hero.  But, let's face it.  Sometimes I thought my active hero was going to wear me out with all of the activity he wanted to be active doing.  I was exhausted, I had a baby and an uber-active mini-Chi, and now I had a jogging stroller that I was going to be expected to be active with.  

Well, as soon as Wee Chi was old enough to be safely strapped into the thing, off we went.  Up the hill.  Every other day.  I was an athlete in training.  It was far from enjoyable and it kicked my butt every single time.   Chi would drive me nuts singing his military-style jodies and "Quarter mile, call the ball!" and "In through your nose, out through your mouth" crap.  I was barely making it every time and SO very thankful for the wrist safety strap on the jogger because it would keep my child from being hurled out of the stroller when I inevitably keeled over mid-run.  I think I remember many times when my six-month old would crawl over my sweaty body as it lay lifeless on the living room floor after a run.  I was about to die, and there he was smiling and not caring how stinky and smelly and sticky I was.  

Before long, I kinda sorta began liking the runs.  And I still do. I kinda sorta crave them now.  Sometimes they still kick my butt, but more often than not they don't.  The truth is, I have to thank my husband/trainer, because if not for his vision of together-time from behind the wheel of a jogging stroller, I never would have started.  My neighborhood is hilly, and now I run up the hills.  All the way.  And I don't have to stop at the top.  In the beginning,  I remember telling Chi how much I hated the sweat and he would reply with some marketing-type slogan to try to pull me through the run, something stupid like, "Be at one with the sweat."  WTH?!  At ONE with sweat?  Me?  No.  Did I mention that the name my parents gave me at birth -- Sarah -- actually means "princess"?  Yup.  Fitting, huh?  Princesses don't like to sweat.   I don't really like to sweat.  However, now, I don't mind it so much.  Sweat means you're working hard.  That's what you're body is supposed to do.  Why did it take me all these years to realize that?

Which brings me to the point of this post.

In a million years, never did I ever think I would do anything more than run.  I thought running was the end-all-be-all, the best way I could challenge myself.  I thought a 5K was really the most I could ever push myself.  And  never in a million years did I think I would ever even contemplate doing anything more than that.  But I am.  And I'm not just thinking about it.  I'm doing it.  Just like Nike says.  Just do it.

Never in a million years did I think I would be registering for a sprint triathlon.  Never in a million years did I think I would be training for one.  Me.  Yes.  Princess.  Can you believe it?  She's training.  A few friends of mine, moms just like me, did one last Spring, and they finished.  Without dying.  They crossed the finish line.  I have been thinking about this for awhile until last week, when I was talking to one of them.  She asked if I was really considering it and I told her I was.  Well, long story short and five friends later, I'm doing it.  We're doing it.  And I'm so excited!  I am learning about all sorts of new things about transitions and "bricks" (doing two of the three events back-to-back in training)...see how smoothly I slid that uber-athletic-type word in there like I knew what I was talking about!?  HA!  Although not a full triathlon, it's a great destination.  A 225-yard swim followed by a 9-mile bike ride followed by a 2-mile run will be, by far, the biggest challenge this body has ever faced.  And I'm not stopping.  Screw that.

For once in a million years, I'm thinking about something important, that's for sure.  Something important to me.  Something important for me.  For once, I am thinking of myself  as something besides a princess.  I think I'm kinda sorta... an athlete.  Did I just admit that?   It's kinda sorta exciting.  "Athlete", I have decided, is a state of mind before it's the state of your body.  You have to think about yourself doing it.  You have to think about how you'll get yourself through the tough spots and the "quitter moments".  You have to think about yourself succeeding.  I'm thinking about finishing something big.  I know it won't be easy, and as frightening as it is to see myself amidst the struggle, I can easily see myself crossing the finish line.  I'm determined...you know I am.  I'm gonna do it.
 I can do it.  I will do it.
I will be at one with the sweat.

May 20, here I come.  Don't believe I can?

 Just tri me.

Chick Magnets

January 2012

 I know every mom is biased.  I am no exception.  Look at these two cuties!  They clean up quite nicely, don't they?!  Most of the time, they are running around like rambunctious little rugrats, they are hot and sticky and sweaty, and they need constant reminding to wash their hands.  There is truth to the saying that "Boys will be boys"!  

There is something innate and precious about their need to squirm and move and run, and their imaginations are wild.  Sometimes, I can see the little wheels turning in their heads, like while they are sitting still in church, or at a fancy dinner, or after a long day of holding it all in at school.  Those little gears turn, their eyes glaze over, and you can see them slip away into a make-believe world where they are Jedi Knights with beyond-this-realm capabilities.  They can sit still when needed and they concentrate quite well, but I love that moment when their little hearts and minds are "released" and they slip away into an imaginary world where anything is possible.

Christmas Day 2011

As much as they like to be boys, they also like to be handsome.  They will never admit that to you if you ask, but they do.  Thomas loves to have his hair combed and to "dress like Dad."  He has very particular tastes in clothing and what he will or will not wear.  Most of the time, it involves athletic gear, but he enjoys dressing like a gentleman just as much -- because he knows he is a "chick magnet", as he overheard his Kindergarten teacher once say!  LOL!  The cat's out of the bag!  We knew we were in for trouble when our virtually mute child suddenly began speaking in full sentences to our pretty, blond babysitter, Emily.  Or maybe it was when, at 4, the swim skill-less child suddenly started splashing around and swimming for Claire, his very beautiful, blonde, buxom swim teacher.  Oh, boy.  Don't let him fool you.  He's cute and sweet and as soon as he turns 10, we will lock him up for the remainder of his teenage years.  I love that boy dearly, but "Thomas" and "chick magnet" in the same thought scare me.

A few months ago, Benjamin, the boy who has pined for the same little girl unfailingly since Kindergarten, was shopping with me.  From at least five yards behind me I heard, "Can we get this?" I expected to turn around to see him fingering a Nike dri-fit shirt or a Star Wars tee or War & Peace.  Instead, he was holding a size 10,  beautiful houndstooth-checked jacket!  I made a beeline, sprinting back to where he was.  "You want to wear this?  THIS?" I asked in disbelief.  "Yeah...do you think I would look handsome in it?" was his meek reply.  

I dropped my purse, and everything else I was holding, right on the floor of the department store.  I am pretty sure my jaw hit the floor, too.  "Oh, YES, I do!" I said.   I couldn't get that jacket off the hanger and onto him fast enough.  He slipped it on and, sure enough, it fit.  It was even a bit big, the bottoms of the sleeves stretching to the middle of his hands.  I was practically arrested for running to the checkout.

A few weeks before Christmas, he pulled it out of his closet one Sunday morning and wanted to wear it.  In the immortal words of Goldilocks, it fit just right.  And he wore it for Christmas, too, in Connecticut.  What a handsome little man.  Look at that dimple.  Some girl is going to kiss that dimple one day.  She is going to kiss that dimple one day.  Sigh.

The rest of these growing-up years are going to be so unfamliar to me.  This is a learning experience.    Please, Lord, help me not to dress them like Bill Gates.  There has to be some middle ground between Silicon Valley dork and butt-crack skater.  Anyone have some guidance?  I mean, I don't think my little chick magnets need to be dressing like GAP models to be attractive, but I kinda sorta totally am going to refuse to let them wear saggy pants, skater gear, backwards ball caps, and anything that will make them look like a thug or that is emblazoned with a skull and cross bones.  They already know that.   Nope.  Sorry if that offends anyone.  They can  be who they are on the inside and I'm okay with that, but on the outside they can "express themselves" in some other lifetime.

Clearly, I am not quite sure I know how to dress "chick magnets".  I am pretty sure it doesn't involve a braided leather belt, a mock turtleneck or Keds.  Something tells me, I am about to find out.

Catching Up

I have been getting a little flack lately.  Well, a lot of flack!  I thought I would have a little more time after Christmas and New Years to catch up on blogging, but I haven't.  Finally, today brings a quiet afternoon where our family calendar has no birthday parties, no basketball games, and no errands!  The laundry is as caught up as laundry can get and the house is relatively clean.  So, I'm setting my sights on being a blogging bombshell today, backdating some posts to document what we've been up to!  Wish me luck!  How many can I get done?!

If you want to read on, I'm going back as far as Thanksgiving!  

On Eagle's Wings

Summer 2008

It has been a long while since I blogged.  But today is an important day, more important than the other trivial things in my life that "require" blogging.  It's important to remember.

I was reading my daily devotional this morning.  Of course, my life, my thoughts, my worries, and all those things I hold closest to my heart , they are somehow related to the message du jour.  Every time.  Each entry seems to lay the details of my life out for me to examine.  His Word weaves its way into my seemingly "complicated" life and reminds me gently that those complications are meaningless, not worth the worry.  His ages-old Word brings meaning and strength to a plain Sarah Jane's life.
 Every.  Single.  Day.
And today was no exception.

Two years ago today, a loving wife of 60 years and seven grown children said goodbye to him.  The bitter cold prairie winds blew cold and fierce for those days we spent with him in the hospital, below-zero wind chills and the crystals from an icy blizzard freezing on our eyelashes and in our noses as we came and went.  The night was blacker than black.  I will always remember those frigid Nebraska days -- they were a metaphor for Dad's struggle and the difficult battle he fought those last few days.

 The morning before his death, our town was blanketed in snow and ice.  It was beyond cold, and the road crackled beneath the tires of our car.  But that morning was very still.  And quiet.  And white.  It was pure and peaceful.  Another metaphor?  Maybe.  Yes.  I will always believe that it was.

Waiting was hard, but it was a blessing, too.  Such a precious blessing.  He knew we were there.  He heard all our voices...all of them.  And we were each able to spend time with Dad, sharing the gifts that are unique to each of the eight of us:  profound and complete devotion, bravery and decision, brilliance, tender care, fortitude, tenacity, reverence, and perception.  HE knew we were there, too, waiting on His perfect timing.  Waiting for Him. And He allowed us that time.  To grieve.  To care.  To love.  To feel the certainty of His presence.  To pray.  To say goodbye.  Again, such a rich and meaningful blessing, one I will always be thankful for.

Although I wasn't always aware of it while growing up, Dad always tried to find the gift amidst the struggle.      He always had something he was saying he was thankful for.  While he wasn't always positive about life, Dad managed to find the gifts of joy in the little things.  He was faithful and patient.  More patient than I could ever be, I think.  For him, too, waiting was hard.  Painfully hard.  God allowed him to experience the harshness of the trials that were his life.  He endured.  But I think it changed his way and gave birth to his faith, teaching him profound reliance upon God.  And in that he found many blessings. 


Today the words of my devotional spoke to me in a way they never have before.  And leave it to today's Words, on January 6, to be full of such meaning and intensity for what was in my heart as I woke this morning.  I am thankful for the gift, for the promise, that these Words offer.  They brought eternal life to a man who was ready to live again.

"Even the youths shall faint and be weary,
And the young men shall utterly fall,
But those who wait on the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint."
Isaiah 40: 30-31

Shortly after my dad died, I read something in a book about the souls of the dead taking flight in birds. Whether this is true or not, I don't really know, but I liked the idea.  It was comforting to think of my dad, who hadn't walked alone in more than five years before his death, who hadn't run in more than 30, soaring freely through the air.  A few days later, I was doing dishes at my kitchen sink when, out of nowhere, a bright, red cardinal flew in and landed right on the windowsill.  It looked straight at me, just inches from me, and cocked it's head.  I was absolutely awestruck.  I couldn't take my eyes off the intensity of his feathers.  I stood there, having a silent, tearful conversation with that bird, instantly knowing that it was Dad.  He flew off and about the yard, landing on different branches, flitting from tree to tree, pausing briefly at each stop to stare at me.  I think he was trying to tell me, "I still see you and I'm watching."  For whatever reason, chance or coincidence or whatever, I will always believe is was him.  That same bird visited for several weeks, always choosing to land on one particular post on my deck railing.  He always stared at me before flying off.   After several weeks, I didn't see him anymore, but there was a whole slew of birds -- chickadees, bluebirds, tiny sparrows, and others I can't identify -- that would land on that same deck post, day after day, and stare at me.  Now, when they stop and perch on the post, or sometimes the chairs of our deck table, or on the windowsill, I am reassured that his long wait and his many trials, his struggle to walk, his patient faith, earned Dad two beautiful, graceful wings on which to soar for all of eternity, without struggle and with His promise.

Loving you and remembering you and thinking of you today and always, Dad.
I know you're watching.
XOXO
Rabbit

Sweet Memories

Run, run as fast as you can!

Come build a gingerbread house

with your gingerbread friends!

And.....he's off!
We had a great little group of friends over today for our 2nd annual Gingerbread House building party!  Last year was SO much fun that we had to do it again.  As with anything, once you iron out the kinks, it's not hard at all to organize.  I have been collecting ideas all year long and putting supplies in my "gingerbread box", and after Thanksgiving we started planning.

Lauren & Hanna, in sugar shock.

 Last year's icing recipe "held up" really, really well.  I'm telling you, it's like mortar.  So, to ensure a no-fuss, low-frustration party, we pre-glued our graham cracker houses together last night.  I whipped up a batch of gingerbread house icing this morning and spooned it into icing bags so they were ready to go when the kids got here after school today.  

Brandon, in concentration mode.

 This year, I was much wiser and set up the scene in my kitchen rather than my dining room.  We'll just say it was a "sticky situation" after last year!  Let's face it, when kids are into something, when they are concentrating, they don't think about the mess.  They're kids!  But my white dining room rug wouldn't agree.  

I wanted them to be able to move around and not have to remain stationery.  So, I removed most of the chairs from the kitchen (except Brandon's), set up round card table next to the kitchen table, covered them both up, and set out the candy.  A tile floor is much easier to clean up than a white rug!  

Max, albeit a bit fuzzy.

Kiera, our littlest gingerbread house builder.

 After demonstrating how to pipe the icing on with the bags, they were off.  I couldn't believe how long these 11 kids remained focused on this activity!  They range in age from 4 to 9 years old, so that is saying something.  For 25 minutes, they decorated and helped each other and made comments on each other's work, and my mom friends and I did little to nothing to help.  It was such fun to watch, and for me especially, to have little girls in my house of testosterone!  I love my boys, but the contrast between having boys and girls is so interesting to me.

Little men, ready for frosting, and white chocolate covered "snow"

 After decorating ceased, the kids had hot cocoa, decorated a gingerbread cookie for snack and enjoyed some white chocolate "snow" (thank you, Pinterest, for this cute, easy treat!).  

Hanna, evaluating her work

And, she's DONE!  Hanna's house before "the collapse".

Breanna's amazing cookie!

 After snacking up a storm (cookie-decorating really works up an appetite!), most of the boys headed upstairs to play X-box and LEGOs while the girls + Brandon (love that crafty guy!) got their craft on downstairs in the dining room.  Little girls and little boys are different, so I was glad I hit up Michael's earlier in the week.  I scored some pre-packaged gingerbread boy/girl ornament crafts as well as some gingerbread stickers and smelly markers for coloring pictures if they wanted to.

Lauren, Kaylee and Breanna at the craft table.

Brandon, Hanna, Kiera, and Maddie, making a gingerbread man ornament.

Sweet Maddie, figuring it all out.

An introduction to Tacky Glue.

 I should have taken a picture of it, but I didn't.  I loved it when the crafting was over and the little girls settled into their drawing and sticker pictures, laying all over my kitchen floor carrying on their sweet little girl conversations.  

L to R -- Benjamin's and Thomas' gingerbread houses.

I'm not sure how long my boys will want to do fun stuff like this, so today's party was extra fun for me.  I am so glad to have a great group of girlfriends whose kids my own kids get along so well with.  It's fun to make these memories!

This Little House

Icing House #1

Good form...

and a steady hand!

 I know you're judging me right now.  What is she thinking?  Did these come from a pre-made gingerbread kit?  Can't she bake?  Ha!  Yes, I love pre-baked gingerbread kits.  The ones with the candies and the frosting already in the piping bags, and the perforated-edge house pieces that make it oh-so-easy to snap them apart.  I buy them every year.  At Target.  We have done a big gingerbread house, a gingerbread train, and the gingerbread village....twice.  The village is their favorite.

Snow all over the roof!

 My Little Nguyens aren't much for crafting, but every once in a while they indulge me.  They do, however, reeeeaaaalllly look forward to decorating gingerbread houses every year.  They totally get into it and they are getting pretty adept at icing bag techniques, too.  I think, for the most part, they have learned the truth in "Less is more", whereas a year or two ago their houses were literally flooded with or dripping in icing.  Like an avalanche of the white stuff.  Sometimes we had "cave in" problems to fix because the roofs were so heavy!

Adding lots of colors!

Squeezing on some red icing

Following the lines

Now some white...

...and a quick taste!

 For the first year, the Little Nguyens were pretty much self-sufficient with the whole process, which is why I was able to get so many pictures!  My hands weren't covered in frosting!  And I even got to decorate one of my own.  They let me have the ski chalet.  The smallest building in the village.  But, hey.  I'm not complaining!

I got to do the ski chalet!  WooHoo!

 AND it left Chi free to cook his Sunday night specialty -- Pho Ga!  Doesn't it look yummy?!

And this has nothing to do with anything....just a yummy dinner!  Pho Ga!