Time is relative

I have been holding back in posting more about our gift baby.  He needs lots of care and attention.  Plus, I wanted to give myself and my family lots of time and space to make an authentic, spirit-led, decision about adoption, to stop knocking on the doors to Casey's heart, to step back, get out of the way, and give them room to open. You see, when you are thrown a curve ball it is easy to duck.  When our expectations aren't met, when we think we are aligned with God's will and then we are surprised unexpectedly it is easy to say "no", this isn't how it was supposed to go.  This isn't what God wants for me.  This is when prayerful reflection is needed most. 

We became foster-adoptive parents to adopt a girl between the ages of 10-14.  We had a neat little plan to build our family without adding "parenting years" onto our marriage.  Wow, typing that I realize how selfish that sounds.  Trust me, we had great intentions.  We also truly and honestly wanted an older child because they are so much less likely to be adopted.  We wanted a girl because we don't have one.  Casey wanted a daughter to walk down the aisle, and I wanted a daughter with whom I could journey motherhood.  We wanted to be witness to the life of a daughter.  We still hope for that.  Our problem was in thinking that we had it all figured out. 

Isn't that how it happens?  Just when you think you have it all figured out, "the joke's on you".  In late April 2013, when we said "yes" to fostering gift baby we thought he was passing through our lives.  We all prepared not to take ownership of him.  He wasn't ours.  I have said "no" to plenty of foster placements for various reasons, but this time I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't.  I convinced myself, "I will love him well, and then he will move on." It happened slowly, the way dusk creeps in on children at play.  There is a huge, yet subtle difference between loving and caring for a child, and loving and taking ownership of them as your own.  It felt intrusive to take ownership of a child whose mother I hoped would heal for him.  I wouldn't do that to either of them.  I couldn't do that.  But he pried my heart open and crawled inside.  Over time I died to my plan, and accepted this as God's plan, at least for now.  What a beautiful plan too!  I get to love and be loved by a beautiful soul I wouldn't know had I said, "no" on the grounds that he was not a girl between the ages of 10-14.

As time wore on, both of our boys began to refer to him as their, "little brother".  First, during introductions.  Then, when they were playing with him.  As the days slipped from one to another it was as if he had always been a part of our family, as if he were meant for us.  His personality is a blend of the older two boys.  He shares their love of music, their sense of humor, even some of their quirks from when they were babies!  The similarities are uncanny.  Eventually, holding him ceased to be a duty and became a privilege.  He ceased to exist out side of myself, but became an extension of me.  His coos would come to me like enchanted notes carried on a warm breeze from a distant violin.  They began to make me revel with joy for his existence, and every morning and afternoon I waited with anticipation for him wake up.   

Casey agreed to adopt him, in writing.  He was still nervous about all those plans he hadn't yet let die.  I wasn't.  A new plan, more beautiful than any we could plan, had unfurled before me day by day.  The time came to change gift baby's placement goal.  Fostercare adoption isn't linear.  It isn't easy.  In one instant they are going to be yours forever, and the next the could be ripped from your arms.  This caused us to deny the depth of our feelings for him, but it was something we naively thought we might avoid. When this possibility reared its ugly head at us things really changed.  That's when we had to be really honest with ourselves.  Until that point it had been easy for both of us to pretend that we could go back to "normal" if baby boy left us.  Facing this reality caused us to realize that things were never going to be the same.  The boys and I especially, would grieve a lost child if he were to go.  The idea caused my heart to twist and palpitate in my chest. 

We sat on seat edge for two weeks waiting to find out if he would be staying or going.  During that time, I tried to distance my heart from his and couldn't.  Instead he became even more a part of me.  I was sleepless, praying in my bed, as shadows washed over me, for the strength to follow His plan.  Questioning Him, "why would you do this to us? I don't understand why."  Then the day came when I found out what was really happening (can't wait to tell you all some day).  The social worker gave me a speech on timing, the time line, and the legalities currently being adhered too.  As the social worker explained to me what was going on, and what her goals for him were I realized I could have slept well if I had a little more faith.  Not because she was telling me what I had longed to hear, "he is absolutely yours."  No.  I realized, who am I to question "the Plan"?  His timing is perfect, it isn't my timing.  I don't get what I want when I want it.  I get what I need when I need it.  We needed to have that epiphany right now.  We needed a reality check.  We needed to come together.  I needed to understand that I am not in control.  That I need to let go and trust God to do his thing.  That is HUGE for me!  I grew from knowledge to understanding through experience.  It is a dangerous thing indeed to mistake knowledge for understanding, and humbling to realize that is exactly what you have done. 

We love him.  He is ours (for sure right now, but I hope forever).  We love him.  I literally feel as if he has been birthed through me these last few weeks.  Hearing his voice cause me to swell to bursting with joy.  Witnessing him experience life makes me feel so lucky, so blessed.  It is a privilege, I am proud of him, and proud to be thought of as his mother.  I can't explain how this bond builds just yet.  It as strong as my bond with the other boys.  He will always be a part of us, and us a part of him.  No matter what.  I am thankful.  I am so incredibly thankful.  The last few months have humbled me beyond measure, and taught me that in my darkest moments I have the most to be thankful for.  I have experienced that in darkness God truly is working the most in me and for me.  I had knowledge of that truth before this, but I did not understand.  I have experienced that God really is good all the time.  I have experienced God.  Again.  This time more beautifully and fully than I could imagine.  I am but a speck, and yet he carefully tends my every need.  He often does this in spite of my moaning and lack of gratitude.     

It has also taught me that I need to listen more carefully to that still small voice inside of me when it shares the good as well as the bad.  How many times do we look in on possibilities, as if we are standing in the doorway to a room filled with joyful strangers, horrified to step in, but desperately longing to?  That little voice that says, "you can do this.  This would be good for you." often gets ignored while we listen to all the reasons we can't or shouldn't.  How long have we spend languishing in doorways?  Don't listen to that negative voice (unless you are planning to take a barrel of Niagara Falls, then listen to it) telling you why you can't.  Take the step, and trust in God's timing. 

http://youtu.be/SXaSWUvTb8w

Night song

He crouches at
the window on
fragile arms and legs so
easily broken,
a Grasshopper of
a boy.
The curtains whip
easily around him pregnant
with night air and spontaneous
melodies birthed by
a faceless back yard
musician.  Round
silky notes run a way
from the plucked strings
of a phantom guitar and are
soaked up by his
frail body perched on
curled white toes and
long fingers that
press delicately into
his mattress, leaving
not the slightest dent.
Unnatural.
The music fills him up to flooding
and A smile rises from deep with
in, works up his spine with a jerk
and presses outward pushing up his soft
silvery cheeks.  He comes alive under the stars
and darkness and canopy of leaves.  11 years
of living and he is has mastered
the Dance; knowing
which moments to take pause and which
to let pass by on the breeze.

His life NOT mine

Me: Coopman, you really are a gift from God.  (His middle name is Zane meaning: Gift from God)
Coop: You know Mom, I was thinking about that today!  I mean, there is nothing wrong with me.  I am perfect (he means physically).  That has to be a miracle, right?
Me: Yeah, I'd say.  With my faulty genetics, you won the lottery!  It's more than that though. you know.
Coop: What do you mean?  I just meant that I was easy on you because I'm never sick, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with me ever.
Me: That's true.  I think you've had a handful of colds as an infant, and maybe the flu, what like 3 times?
Coop: yeah, 3 times.
Me: You were more than just abnormally healthy though Cooper.  That was of course a HUGE blessing.
Coop:  Yeah, I mean you could just take me out with a coat in the winter when I was baby and be like, 'here you go!' and I wouldn't get sick or anything!
Cheeky little cuss.
Me: yeah, I'm sure we did that to you... Oops.  But I mean that we didn't have to baby proof our house for you, we didn't have to worry about anything with you.  There were no unseen hazards for your dad and I because you seemed to know what they were and to avoid them on your own.
Coop: Well, Will definitely didn't do that for you.
He's totally right here, but we'll just ignore that statement.
Me: Well, it was like you were a grown up from the moment you were born.  Almost like God knew I needed to be eased into this "parenting thing".
He loses interest now and starts talking to me about Pokemon.
This conversation is much deeper to the two of us than it seems.  Because he knows what I'm about to say.

I thought about aborting him.  There I said it out loud.  Go ahead and judge me. I didn't want to be mother yet.  Sure I was engaged to the man of my dreams, and I knew he'd want to keep the baby.  I knew he'd do everything necessary to provide for us both.  I had done everything I had been told to do to prevent this, it wasn't fair.  That's why between hearing, "No Miss Cooper, you're not anemic... You're pregnant" and going back to my future husband's apartment I stopped at a park to think it over.  There would be no choosing what I wanted once I told Casey, because it would kill him if I aborted our baby. No, if I didn't want to keep the baby he could never know.  I wanted to have a choice in the matter, even if contemplating the "unspeakable" went against everything that was Catholic.  The girl who marched in Pro-Life rallies wanted a choice.

I sat in my beater of a car at the park and bawled and bawled and bawled to the barren trees, to my steering wheel, to a God I wanted to be mad at.  I couldn't be mad at God though, I DID THIS TO ME.  I thought of all things that would be ruined.  I was captain of a Division I track team.  How would I tell the team.  I had a scholarship, what if I lost it.  I had been running REALLY well, and was on track to break records, and win things, all that would be lost.  I didn't once think about the life in my womb.  It was simply an inventory of all the things I COULDN'T do if I kept this baby.  I had just bought a fitted coat.  I'd out grow it in a few months.  My body wouldn't be mine anymore.  I cried and screamed and slammed on the steering wheel until my throat felt stiff as steal, and I was sure my hand was broken.  Then, limp with exhaustion I numbly sat and counted the dots in the steering wheel cover until I was so cold I had to restart my car.

By: National Catholic Register 

Then I thought of living a lie for the rest of my life with the one person that mattered the most to me, just so I could get my name in small print in Track Meet programs.  No one looks at those names,  no one cares.  I took a deep breath.  Looked down and said, "Fine.  You Win."  I'm not sure I was talking to the fetus, or to God at the time.  In then end I was talking to both.  When I got to the apartment and told Casey the news he wrapped his arms lifted me in the air and spun me around.  His excitement incited a slowly building rage inside of me.  A long angry pregnancy was followed by severe Postpartum depression.  In fact, my husband was sole caretaker for our son for nearly the first 6 months of his life.  While I gave him his middle name, I certainly didn't see him as a gift until he was about 9 months old.  Even at that young age, when people would yell "Go Annie" he would cry.  Perhaps worried for me?  Perhaps he longed for me?  He didn't cry when they yelled, "Go Angie" or "Go Casey" or "Go ______".  Only my name.  He loved me anyway.

It was definitely a blessing that he was eerily healthy, and eerily well behaved.  He might not have survived other wise!  We were two young twenty somethings that had athletic obligations to fill and degrees to finish.  He DID go out in winter without a coat, and didn't get sick.  This little boy had a quiet humor and uncanny ability to sense and appropriately react to the emotions of those around him.  By the time he was 2 I was totally smitten and ever since have worked with fervor to be the mother he deserves, though strangely thoughts of a broken bond were something I never worried about.  Probably because he has always been so tender and warm towards me, even though I didn't deserve it.  So broken bonds just weren't on the radar, until I sat down to write this.  Another blessing? He truly is the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I didn't see it at the time.  Without him I would have been content in my selfishness, dilutedly thinking I was happy.  He has, for me, exemplified grace, and gives me a higher purpose.  He makes me want to be better than I am.

Because of Cooper I learned that just because we think we are happy doesn't mean we are.  Conversely, just because we don't like the situations that befall us doesn't mean we can't be happy anyway.  Happiness is inside of us, not outside of us.  Happiness is everywhere, once we find it in ourselves we can find it anywhere if we look for it.  Memories of those times when we are happy can help us through those time when we aren't.  Happiness is in surrender and acceptance, two things I (a confessed control freak) will always struggle with.  My struggle is less now than it was, not just because of the unexpectedness of the event Cooper being introduced into my life, but in who he is.  Cooper's presence and person frequently remind me that my life is BEST when I don't try to control it, but instead turn it over to God.  That when I try and fail to be the best person I can be I will be loved anyway.  I marvel at him everyday.  I love that kid.  I can't imagine life without him.  The world is better because he is in it.  He truly is a "Gift from God", not just for me, but for you.

Birth Right

Shameless stolen from "Marley's Mama"

We have been reading "The Hunger Games" out loud as a family.  It has sort of taken over our lives.  My husband called me on lunch yesterday, "Hunger Games tonight" he said.  He walked in the door just after 4:30, "Ready to read the Hunger Games?"  Oh sure, never mind dinner, homework, or that I've had the flu.  The man has become absorbed.  Alright, maybe he isn't the only one.  Needless to say the boys were up until 9 pm while we finished reading the last 6 chapters of Book one.  We read through the preparation and consumption of our dinner, thanks to my lack of appetite.  We read as we drove the 20 minutes to my car, still at the middle school where I left yesterday because I was too ill to drive myself home.  We read together as the boys prepared for bed.  When we finished the book, my husband picked up the second book and began reading silently to himself and was promptly scolded by the boys and I, "NO CHEATING".   I call this obsession, "Family Reading Night".  I'm not sure how long this will last, but I know that we have two more books, and it will last at least that long.  To the boys, that will be long enough to feel, "permanent".  In their adult memories it will seem like a tradition that always was.  This is how things are measured in, "kid time".

We have "Family Movie Night" too.  It isn't a prescribed weekly event.  It is homemade Pizza, popcorn, Blankets galore, and a movie we all want to watch.  I can't really make that happen EVERY week.  I make that happen when I have a movie we all like in our Instant Que on Netflix, and the energy to make the food.  Again, they will remember this a tradition whether it happens every week, or every couple of weeks.  It happens regularly enough to be a part of our family identity, or at least to be ingrained in them as part of their family's identity, "kid time". This whole "Family Identity" thing didn't happen by accident, or over night for that matter.  It is something I began thinking about shortly after one of my students was shot in a drive by while I student teaching.  Weird?  It's true.

Staring at a spontaneously emptied desk for weeks will really mess with you.  Passing conversations you never intended to remember echo in your mind, "Mrs. G I forgot my homework at my crib." as he bounced from left to right.  "Really?  You sleep in a crib?  My son sleeps in a crib, but he's only 11 months old.  Funny, you seem way too old and far too large to be sleeping in a crib.  To each their own I guess." I smirk teasingly, and he repays me with childish, almost apologetic smile.  Yep, that got me thinking about gangs.  More specifically, about how gangs give kids what they wanted all along; a feeling of belonging.  A clear identity.  Acceptance.  I definitely wanted my kids to get as much of that from ME as possible!  I wasn't worried so much that  they'd run off and join the Crypts or the Bloods so much as I knew that when they were teens they'd start searching.  I wanted to give them a solid pad from which to launch themselves, and a compass, for the search.  It is so hard to navigate the hazards of our teenage years.  Who hasn't floundered a bit.  Those that flounder least have a decent idea of who they are when they enter into that period of life.  I wanted to give them that advantage.  Family identity, and knowing they will also be accepted for who they are are key.

Who needs a water park!

 My sons are stark contrasts to one another.  One is tall and svelte, the other also tall, but brutish in stature.  One is blonde, one Brunette.  One is a dyslexic math whiz, the other a poet that still adds on his fingers.  My Brunette sensitive to the needs of others and almost unaware of his own needs.  My Blonde, well he can tell you exactly how he feels at any given second, but has absolutely no awareness of the feelings or boundaries of others.  Yep, polar opposites.  Family is where they are loved for who they are, and where they find common ground.  I am thankful for the wise priest that told my husband I, "The greatest injustice is treat unequals equally."  In discipline, and communication they are treated according to their needs.  There is no box to fit into at our house, and yet those EVENTS are reoccurring.  I suppose that is how we see family.  

Yep, I started thinking about how I wanted to "define" our family.  Were we the crunchy kind of family?  Were we punk rock?  Were we sporty?  Where did we fit in?  We sorta fit all of those descriptions and more.  This was an evolution, correction.  This IS an evolution.  Honestly, the more our entire family grows in Christ the closer we get to a place were I worry less about manufacturing this, because it happens on it's own.  No, we haven't always exposed our kids to things that I'm proud of, and we have made some mistakes.  Heck, Cooper has almost grown up WITH us.  Everyone makes mistakes, no parent is perfect.  Besides, I don't think a label, like those above, is something I have ever been willing to live "up" too.  How confining.  No, what I think has mattered most is that we spend LOTS of time as a family, PERIOD.  What also matters is that we NEVER, and will never, impose a specific identity on our kids (i.e. "if you don't love football you don't belong" type of identity).  That's what their search is for.  Our job is to give them a compass and a place to feel safe.  That is done based on how we live, what and who we value.  We clearly, unemotionally, communicated to them what we expect of them, what we deem good choices/habits/behaviors, and who are good examples to follow.  We teach them how to chose friends that will benefit them.  We communicate this by LIVING IT.  Funny, the things I couldn't do for myself before them, I can do for myself now, because I'm doing it for them.

We have thrown aside the values of "the world"; status, possessions, and basically the lifestyle most of their peers are familiar with.  I'll be as specific as one paragraph allows.  Only one of us has worked full-time since our first child was born.  My next statement is offensive, it comes from experience this "having it all" idea is a myth.  When both parents work full time the kids suffer, except in very few circumstances where family support is incredibly great and even then I'd debate it.  There is no replacement for Mom or Dad.  I haven't yet met a kid that'd say, "I'd rather have name brand clothes than time with mom and dad".  Or, "I'd rather go to Disney land once a year than have time with my family every day".  Ask them yourself.  

We live on a Cash only basis with the exception of our mortgage (this allowed us the freedom to pick a house in a neighborhood were our kids are safe and surrounded by like minded families).  We don't take extravagant vacations.  We don't go out to eat.  We don't go to the movies, except on special occasions (and then to the budget theater or matinee).  We don't have Cable TV.  My kids get most of their clothes at Goodwill.  We didn't sign them up for sports until they were 10 and 7, and then only a non-competitive soccer league.  While we don't shelter them from alcohol (My husband and I like a beer or two every once in a while), We DO NOT allow people to drink to intoxication in front of them (this seems like a no-brainer, but it wasn't, which is a long story).  WE DO have family dinners nearly every night.  We do hike and camp near home FREQUENTLY.  We do go to Busch Gardens on our ONE annual free "military appreciation" day (Thank you Busch).  We do have fires and roast marshmallows in our backyard.  We do help people in our neighborhood that need it (see a need, fill a need).  We do have 1 tv (well that's a lie, we actually have 4 at the moment, we are storing 3 of them for friends, and can only watch one since we don't have cable).  We do monitor what we watch and listen to when they are around (also something that has evolved and become more stringent as they've gotten older).  We DO tuck them in every night and recap their day.  We DO work, play, pray, eat, laugh, cry, suffer, rejoice, and live TOGETHER.  Profound if you think about it.  You don't have to agree with our tastes to understand our methods.

We gave them life, but their lives are not ours.  We are their teachers, their mentors, the builders of their foundations.  I love them so much.  I want them to be successful BECAUSE of me, not in spite of me.  We need to be available, physically, emotionally, and cognitively in order ensure that.  It was very hard to be honest with myself about what it would take to make that desire a reality.  It is an everyday struggle to die to my own desires in order to give birth to this ONE true desire to build a solid foundation for my sons.  In essence I do give birth to them everyday, everyday until the day they take flight from me.

Perspective = Attitude

"I have to go the Bahamas in June, for about a month.  They are talking about Papua New Guinea for 6 weeks, but I don't think we'll go and besides I wouldn't be able to go anyway because of Joe's wedding."  I puke in my mouth a little.  I want to say, "ah hem.  Excuse me?!  I didn't walk away from things I loved so that you could go on "vacations".  I don't.  I roll my eyes instead.  It's my go to thing lately.  He says, "Don't worry the Army takes the fun out of everything."  They sure do, except I don't know how you can take the fun out of being in the Bahamas.

When he's gone, I'm home single parenting.  Like any other Army wife whose husband is absent.  I have no free time to do what I'd like (Hey, Michelle Obama there's something you can do to help military families CHILD CARE that we can actually afford).  I worry about him, diving is inherently dangerous.  I knew that's what I was signing up for, I just thought it would be for a nobler reason than going to the Bahamas to "train".  It irks me more than it should.  "It's just a job" he says to me frequently.  Yeah, sure it is.  It's a job that requires you to be gone for weeks at a time doing NOTHING important.  I told him last night my deepest darkest secret, "I'd rather you were gone for a year in combat than for a month here or there to places that are 'cool'.  Then my sacrifices would seem small, and worth while."  I'm pretty sure that's not actually true, but I sure feel that way sometimes.

I am capable. I am talented.  I am smart.  I am able.  I am all these things and more.  I feel trapped by his "job" so often because of the inconsistency it brings to our lives.  I can never get a schedule going.  As soon I do, he's gone again and I have to start from scratch.  Running, Grad school, a career; all things I desperately want to do and haven't yet.  I haven't because of the boys, because someone has to be around consistently for them.  So while he's off livin' the dream (he'll tell you quite another story.  I have a tendency to make his side of things sound way better for him than they are), I'm here being responsible.  I try so hard not to make it about "me", and yet I always do.

Seriously, say I get accepted into the Grad Program I'm aiming for.  They require summer classes.  Well, when he is off on these TDY's (Army for Temporary Duty) who is going to watch my kids?  They'd have a whole summer of no supervision.  They are in that weird in between period.  Too old for day care, not old enough to be alone.  I'd feel like a jerk.  If I ran 4 miles took classes and worked the boys would be totally screwed.  They'd be screwed if I just took the classes.  I used to run, teach and take classes.  Casey took care of the boys.  This flip flop of roles is tough.  Yet, I saw a man that hadn't had his turn because I had been the one living out my own dream.

Cooper and I at my Final Track Meet
for Indiana State.  Like I said
we had them young.

I make it about me because I once had life the way I wanted it.  It just about killed his spirit.  We had our kids young, very young.  We made a commitment to place our children above all else in our lives.  We're talking family dinners, family movie nights, FAMILY focused.  For several years this meant he stayed home and I worked.  I took advantage of the situation and ran, and started my masters.  He took the boys skateboarding, and painted with them.  He was a great stay at home dad (most of the time), even if he was a terrible house keeper (lol).  When I saw how miserable he'd become, how desperately unfulfilled he was, I urged him to pursue something of his own.  That's how we got here.

To be frank, he's a much better person than I am.  Even now, as "head of household", he is more considerate of me than I was of him when roles were reversed.  He does a wonderful job of honoring me on his trips, partially because he is incredibly cheap, but also because he understands its "just a job".  He doesn't take advantage of the situation or of me.  He recognizes how large I feel my sacrifice is, and he makes sacrifices of his own when he's away.  He spends his free time wisely and humbly, and calls home frequently to talk to the boys and me.  Really, can I ask for anything else?

Circa 2004 

We made a commitment to our kids; to raise them deliberately, and to put them, and their experience,  above all else.  He did his time, and now I'm doing mine.  It isn't always pleasant.  It isn't always fulfilling, but it is TOTALLY worth it when my kids are complimented on their behavior, kind heartedness, and work ethic, etc.  When I focus on the things I don't get to do I am hard to be around.  I don't even like myself.  When I focus instead on the ways that my best friend and husband acknowledges and respects my "willing" sacrifice I feel blessed, even if I'm not in the mood to feel "blessed".  Perspective is everything.

sweetest

My husband has been texting me on his lunch today with race propositions.  I'm not sure what they are talking about at work, but so far he has two race propositions from two different soldiers.  He is so cute.  I am lucky that he is, and always has been so supportive.  Saturday he suggested I make a three year plan.  With the goal three years from now being to train again.  Our kids would be almost 15 and almost 12, and my life would be less demanding (so we think now, right).  I guess I need to define what I mean when I say "train".  I haven't done that.

my 3 guys and the water

I love this article posted on facebook by my friend, and charge of Hudson, Pat Rizzo.  It spares no niceties in disclosing the two main facts about distance running; first, it takes years of running  A LOT (100+ miles per week) to be a world class elite, and second, there is no money in it for those of us (being me) national class runners.  The article, for me, speaks to the life I left.  Long workouts; 10 x 1 mile repeats or a 22 mile run with 16 miles just under marathon pace (at the time MP was 6:00-6:10), plus time at the Gym.  I LOVE working out like that.  Everyday I want to workout like that.  It is really time consuming and draining.  At least 2 hours a day of working out, and that's on the easier days.  Before I stopped training I had a hard time finding a gym because most of them have a 2 hour time limit for child care (Priorities awry).  Since training at that level, anything else seems silly.  All or nothing attitude that goes a little something like this, I can't eat just one M & M.  If I eat one I want to eat the entire 1 lb bag.  I don't care if makes me puke, they are simply too good.  So I'd rather just not eat that first M & M.  Running is the same way for me too.  Compulsive much?

On a TDY 

So I currently run 4 miles 4 times a week, or perhaps a 9 miler if I feel so moved and have the time.  I also make sure to give the stink eye to anyone that starts to talk about how hard they work out, to roll my eyes when his buddies talk about cross fit,  and to totally glaze over when I have to listen to these Army Divers brag about how hard core their PT is.  Because of course how I USED to work out far outshines what they do now.  Since I can't train like an elite athlete I have thrown in the towel on working out, and then roll my eyes at people that bust tail.  Sure that's totally rational.  There's no jealousy happening here, move along now.  Always working on that stinker inside of me.  She's a little thunder thief.  I ceased the involuntary one-ups-manship with them, that's a wonderful thing.  Glazing over is better right?

One of the other wives got into Cross-Fit and one day came over and started telling me what I needed to do to get better results from my workouts.  My reaction was totally inappropriate and cost us our friendship.  I stopped her mid prescription and told her something to the effect of "I don't want your help.  I was an athlete for years before you got into this fad."  She is the sensitive (in a sweet way) type, and this really hurt her feelings.  This attitude of superiority surfaced post Army.  That whole, "I'll show you attitude" just sorta went crazy, and yet I didn't have any way to make good on it without stealing time from my sons.  Perhaps my husband has a point.  Perhaps running is the best way to knock that chip off my shoulder, now that I'm fully aware of the serious imbalance I have allowed it to cause in my life, begrudgingly thanks to the Army.  My forced time away from it has allowed me to be really introspective.

Elite start Chicago Marathon 2008, Casey with
the boys, and Mama about to live the dream,
though things didn't go well that day.
 I thought I'd have many many more.
My how the tables did turn, and oh how
I have not adjusted easily.

I think his plan is a good idea.  First, because it would force me to use a great deal of self-discipline to run 40 miles a week consistently.  It would definitely humble me.  It would force me to run for enjoyment, because there would be no formal training plan.  No, 2 hard days one long day, no prescribed weekly mileage.  Just a simple, you can't EXCEED 40mpw for all of 2012.  Second, I like it because with the formality taken out of it I can focus my energy on preparing my mind and spirit to enjoy my passion humbly and without ego, like I used to.  He said, "You can't deny yourself the ability to act out a crucial part of who you are."  I might have been doing that even before I walked away.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with deconstructing yourself in order to get at the  core of what it is you need in order to know how to "act out a crucial part of who you are."  He thinks I should race at least once a year.  Jury is out on that.  He thinks racing would be a way to transfer the humility I'm learning daily onto the competitive stage.  I see where he's coming from.

I have to give myself a little credit,  I am not always so superior, nor do I see myself as a workout diva in all circles, certainly not among my running friends.  Even when I was full out training I ran lower mileage than most of peers, by 20 miles per week at least.  This superiority started when we entered the Army.  It's not an easy transition, and negatively effects each of us differently.  So no, I don't strut around town with my nose in the air.  I am genuinely pretty warm, friendly, and compassionate a majority of the time.  Given you don't accidentally stomp on the landmine of resentment (directed at no one/nothing in particular) I'm trying to defuse.

Surrendering Stinks Sometimes.

It is funny.  I was perfectly okay with this weekend.  Better than I thought I'd be actually.  The Olympic Trials were a touchstone in my surrendering the life of an elite distance runner to devote myself to motherhood.  Before and during the race I was content to live vicariously through my friends.  When it was over and I looked through the results I broke down, not because my former running/training partners did so well (placing: 2, 9, 13, 26, 33, and 74th) .  Heck no, I am incredibly proud of them!  I got upset for a completely different reason.  Well, sort of.

I have to give a little background.  Christmas of 2008 I secretly looked into the World Class Athlete Program offered by the Army.  I knew I could get paid to train, and get great benefits for the family.  If I went through Basic Training and AIT I would then be allowed to train freely at the location of my choosing.  I thought I met the requirements, which at that time were to have placed in the top 3 at a national competition within the last 2 years. When I inquired I was told I in fact did not qualify because the national competition was not an Olympic Distance (It was a 25k).  Not long after that Casey came to me with his dream of joining the Army, so I didn't pursue it further.  I wasn't going to have both parents gone at basic training and AIT.  That seemed really selfish.   They have since changed the requirements to make them more black and white.  I feel the Marathon standard is still totally within my limits if I were to train again.  Now back to the results.

I saw, in the top 25, not one but two women running for the US Army W.C.A.P.  Neither of them were better runners than myself.  They were granted entrance into the program around the same time I inquired and neither of them were within 3 minutes of any of my PR's at the time.   Because I like to torture myself I researched, and found that neither woman currently on the team made the standard before being admitted.  However, they were career soldiers FIRST, then applied (not comforting to me though due to smugness I often experience on the part of female soldiers).  At this point the faster one has  PR's in the 10k and Half Marathon that are actually a just under a minute slower than mine, but a 15k PR that is faster than mine.  We are comparable runners I suppose.  The second still isn't even close to my PR's.  So then, I wanted to know WHY NOT ME!  I felt myself burn with anger and resentment.  I stiffened involuntarily, feeling as though I'd been cheated out of what rightfully belonged to me.

I silently slumped about the house all morning.  "Annie, is there coffee?" "I dunno.  Do you still have legs?  Go look."  If Casey came downstairs I went upstairs.  If he came up I went down.  We normally talk and drink coffee all morning on Saturday and Sunday.  I wanted to punch him and those two stupid girls right in the face.  I was seriously ready to ramp up my training to show up at the Army 10 miler in a cheesy "Army Wife" T-shirt and kick their asses.  Show them whose boss.  Show them how undeserving they were.  Exactly the attitude I have worked so hard to recover from.

Of course Casey wanted to know what was wrong.  I told him.  Of course his response was insensitive, "I gave it (a promising athletic career) all up too.  I moved on."  In all fairness "giving it up" isn't the same as "losing it".  Power events (high jump) and distance events are very different in this way.  "At any moment honey, I can pick it back up and be back where I was in a year or so.  It isn't the same."  Crying hysterically at this point, which makes him totally uncomfortable because I don't do this often.  He shifts his weight every 2 seconds and keeps his arms locked to his sides in terror that I might try to cling on.  In a Hank Hill to Luanne tone he asks, "Annie, seriously, how many dead ends are you gonna hit before you get God's point?  Have you prayed?"  Okay, so while this is totally correct, it may not have been the best timing ever.  Left hook much?

I didn't hit my husband.  I didn't even yell at him, even though I really wanted to.  I knew he was right.  It wasn't meant to be.  Those women WEREN'T undeserving at all.  I was being a jerk.  I have said several times that Pride and Vanity are huge issues for me, Vengeance too I suppose.  I am doing what I have been called to do.  I don't always like it.  In fact sometimes I down right want to scream at God that he made a mistake, throw myself down arms and legs in every direction, and demand to have my way.  Luckily, within minutes some one or something enlightens me as to my assholish ways and then I find strength to admit that I am wrong.

Enjoyed this day and ran w/o an ego.  The following year I had a huge ego.  

Tonight at Mass, as I prayed, I envisioned myself running a race.  I was near the front of the pack chasing down this woman.  I was filled with the "I'm gonna show you whose boss" feeling.  I looked to the spectators and saw Jesus.  His shoulders slouched, head hanging and shaking in disappointment and sadness.  Then I envisioned myself again running a race.  This time I had no idea where I was in the pack.  I was filled with joy.  I noticed the way the light filtered through the leaves, they way their greens contrasted against a bright blue sky.  I noticed the festive colors of the finish area and Jesus behind the finish line excitedly waving me in.  His arms WIDE open waiting to wrap me up after I finished.  I actually have had both race experiences in real life, minus Jesus being there in person of course.  I realized it's the same Jesus, but different me's.  It is my choice.  I can use my talents or abuse them.  In using them they help others and myself.  "Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory..." Phillipians 2:3  Until I can run with that verse in my heart I will not "train" or compete.  I would just make it all about me, and everyone around me would suffer.  Not to mention the demands of being a military wife with 2 school age children are preventative enough in their own right.  I have made the right choice.  I feel confirmed that I am following God's will for me and my family.  Though I still have days when it is hard to be at peace with it.

I haven't posted in a few days because the Norovirus is making rounds at our house.  Saturday night it got my youngest.  Monday night it got my oldest.  Last night it got my husband.  I haven't had time to write due to sanitation efforts!  I have discovered Thomas Merton, and started a new book written by friend of mine.  Both are stimulating my little brain!  I will have lots to say when I get back!  Promise!

What makes me "approve" of a public school

Today I subbed in my favorite middle school in our district.  It is the one school I WOULD send Cooper too.  Why would I send him to this school and not the one we're zoned for?  What is it about this school that I like?  It isn't test scores.  It isn't that it is a new facility.  There is a middle school that was built and opened within the last year in the district, this isn't it.  No, it isn't the facility, it is the faculty and administration.

Here's the dirty little secret that test scores don't accurately communicate, not everyone with a teacher's license is actually invested in their students, or education.  How, then, can you know when a school is staffed with effective and invested staff?  I have found only one way.  You must be a part of the school.

There are clear markers that are obvious to a trained eye.  The big one for me is student conduct.  Teachers that care about kids set clear expectations and are consistent in enforcing them.  To me a teacher that does this for academics does this also for behavior.  There is a sense that students are following the rules, not out of fear but out of respect.  It's about the small things.  Even the best teachers can't enforce their expectations if their hands are tied. Time to be specific already!

I like that this school has the kids wear uniforms.  School is about learning.  Clothing can be very divisive, and distracting.  Uniforms take the head ache out of enforcing dress code policies.  Schools that wear uniforms generally yield higher academic performance.  The uniform debate could be it's own post, so you'll just have to take my word for it (research it for yourself), that a school that enforces a uniform code will usually be better than one that doesn't.  While uniforms are a sign that, "We take this school thing seriously", they definitely aren't everything.

Here is the heavy hitter; the administration supports it's staff, they are "teacher centered".  During a long term position (at this same school) I had to break up a mild girl fight.  The principal was quick to thank me, and swift in dealing with the girls.  He was compassionate and fair with both of them.  A week later I was enforcing a new school-wide rule that only clear liquids could be drank in classrooms, and only out of clear containers when a student acted defiantly towards me.  After several warnings, I wrote a referral on the spot.  The principal called his parents FOR me, and gave the student an in school suspension.  Amazing!  Administrative support!  I'll support HIS rules (school wide rules) in the future.  If I see misconduct in the hall I WILL speak out, because I know I WILL be supported.

To me that means everything.  If the students know that the Administration is going to back up their teachers they will respect classroom rules.  When classroom rules are respected teacher's can teach and students can learn.  When teachers have this type of support they reinforce school rules.  When school rules are reinforced there is a sense of cohesion among the teachers and between faculty and administration, and a safer school is born.  Safe schools allow distraction free learning environments.  Students pick up on this cohesion and not only give up on trying to undermine authority, but also learn from the example set by  the adults and there is more amicability among student peer groups.  Hallways are freer of fights and trash.  Classroom time is focused and more productive.  One word; RESPECT.

The school my son would have to go to (not a school of choice state) is riddled with chaos and dissension.  Students swear and dump their trash in the halls and no one admonishes them.  They openly belittle each other in front of staff that then does nothing.  Recently, 4 girls beat another girl unconscious during lunch.  Where were the adults, perhaps afraid of getting in trouble for intervening?  Yes, that's a possibility.  It's happened to me before (an administrator more worried about a law suit than the students).  When I subbed there I had 6th graders actually say these things, "you can't make me", "who do you think you are", and "be patient" when I asked them to "please open your books".  Those that know me personally know that I am gregarious and friendly.  I was treating these kids with respect and using a bubbly tone.  Maybe this isn't important, but this was a Ph.D's classroom I was subbing in.  Typically a student behaves in this manner when they've learned their teacher's disciplinary measures don't have any weight.  At this same school a student was running in the hall, I told him to stop.  He looked back at me, and then didn't even slow down.  The other teachers in the hall looked at me like I had a third eye.  I don't want to teach there, so why would I let my kids go there to learn?

Give me a school that has clearly defined expectations, staff that is supported by it's administration, and a has a school wide commitment to student learning.  Do I think uniforms can do this?  No.  I think uniforms are a part of this, but Administrative support is at the core of a good school.  Unfortunately, most parents aren't going to know if a Principal is supporting his teachers or not.  I've taught with supportive administrators, and administrators that undermined me every chance they got.  It's a simple equation.  Administrators that are teacher centered have teachers that are student centered and students succeed.

School I like here.  Notice the year the administrator came back after 2 years at a different school in the district discipline took a sharp turn for the better, and test scores improved slightly.  School I don't like here.  Notice the steady increase in disciplinary problems, and that the test scores are slightly lower than the other school, with a slight decline in 2 of 4 categories in the last 2 years.  It isn't everything, but it's a piece of the puzzle.  If anything the school disciplinary report speaks more honestly to the quality of the school than the academic test scores.

Profile of learner, what this means for my kid.

These are Cooper's results for his multiple intelligence test, excuse the formatting, I didn't know how to transfer it properly.  If anyone knows how to do this they can tell me in the comments!  While being "social" isn't important to him, nor is collaborative learning, he did say, "I do wonder, if no one else has to learn this why do I?"  This attitude is why my traditional setting was such a source of friction for us the first time around.  Given the results, I wonder if this attitude wasn't manufactured by traditional school structure (grades, etc.).  That doesn't mean this is a good or bad attitude.  I am just not subscribed to the belief that it's inherent within Cooper, and I wonder what relationship this attitude has with his learning.  He loves to learning when he picks the material, but if anyone else picks the material this attitude of why should I kicks in.  I think, at this point, that the type of homeschool parents my husband and I are fits nicely for Cooper's needs.  We'd pick the objectives, and he'd pick the material.  He wouldn't have the "why should I attitude" because of his ownership of his own learning.  After all, we don't think "why should I" when we, as adults, decide we WANT to learn a new language, or how to knit, or how to garden.  The fact is, that he doesn't need other PEOPLE around him in order to learn (there are folks that do), but in order to motivate him to learn things he has BEEN MANDATED to learn.  No one MADE him read "Universe in a Nutshell", certainly none of the other kids in his class were doing that in their free time.  He did it because he wanted to.  So, in effect the "other kids" serve to make him feel as though he isn't the only one being forced to something he finds pointless, and annoying.  Lovely.  More information is still needed.  

Your top three intelligences: Intelligence Score (5.0 is highest) Description 4.71 Spatial: You remember things visually, including exact sizes and shapes of objects. You like posters, charts, and graphics. You like any kind of visual clues. You enjoy drawing. Effective techniques of enhancing your learning using your spatial intelligence include creating and/or using pictures, maps, diagrams, and graphs as you learn things. Other suggestions: Write a language experience story and then illustrate it. Color code words so each syllable is a different color. Write a word on the blackboard with a wet finger. Visualize the word as it disappears. See if you can spell it afterwards. Take a survey. Put the information in a chart. Write words vertically. Cut out words from a magazine and use them in a letter. Visualize spelling words. Use colorful newspapers like USA Today. Use crossword puzzles. 4.57 Body Movement: You like to move, dance, wiggle, walk, and swim. You are likely good at sports, and you have good fine motor skills. You may enjoy taking things apart and putting them back together. Incorporating body movement into your learning will help you process and retain information better. Here are some ideas. Trace letters and words on each other's back. Use magnetic letters, letter blocks, or letters on index cards to spell words. Take a walk while discussing a story or gathering ideas for a story. Make pipe cleaner letters. Form letters out of bread dough. After you shape your letters, bake them and eat them! Use your whole arm (extend without bending your elbow) to write letters and words in the air. Change the place where you write and use different kinds of tools to write, ie., typewriter, computer, blackboard, or large pieces of paper. Write on a mirror with lipstick or soap. Take a walk and read all the words you find during the walk. Handle a Koosh ball or a worry stone during a study session. Take a break and do a cross-lateral walk. 4.14 Musical: You like the rhythm and sound of language. You like poems, songs, and jingles. You enjoy humming or singing along with music. You probably remember things well when they are associated with music or rhythm. Try to incorporate sounds into your lessons, such as using a familiar tune, song, or rap beat to teach spelling rules, or to remember words in a series for a test. Here are some other ways to use your musical intelligence: Create a poem with an emphasis on certain sounds for pronunciation. Clap out or walk out the sounds of syllables. Read together (choral reading) to work on fluency and intonation. Read a story with great emotion — sad, then happy, then angry. Talk about what changes — is it only tone? Work with words that sound like what they mean (onomatopoeia). For example: sizzle, cuckoo, smash. Read lyrics to music. Use music as background while reviewing and for helping to remember new material. Use rhymes to remember spelling rules, i.e., "I before E except after C." The scores for your other five intelligences: 3.86 3.14 3.14 3 2.86 Just because these five are not in your top three doesn’t mean you’re not strong in them. If your average score for any intelligence is above three, you’re probably using that intelligence quite often to help you learn. Take a look at the Practice section to see how to engage all your intelligences.

Homeschool debate

My husband and I have decided to have several conversations in which we EQUALLY weigh the pros and cons of homeschooling against the pros and cons of public school.  We have several questions we want to discuss.  Each child would require their own unique conversation, and we would take into account that while I am the licensed educator, we would both be active participating FACILITATORS if our children were to be homeschooled.

1.) What do we hope our children will get out of public school. (Why do we send them)
Once this question is answered we will weigh the value of this answer against this question
2.) What do we fear they won't get out of public school, or what do we fear will be negative about the public school experience in the context of their futures.
3.) What do we believe our children would get of homeschooling?
Once this question is answered we'd have to ask
4.) What experiences do we fear our children wouldn't get as homeschoolers, how would the homeschool experience fit into the context of their futures?

This is the nitty gritty part of the conversation.  We'd have to weigh the answers of number 1 against number 2 and then weigh the answer of number 3 against number 4 too see the pay outs.  In the end see which is the most logical.  They both have pros and cons.  Our kids WILL learn in each environment.  It's a matter of seeing which environment will BEST allow them to learn the MOST, with the least amount of negative "side effects"; based on each child's individual needs and learning styles.  We will work hard to keep each other honest and objective by playing devil's advocate.  I'm glad that we've homeschooled them for their religious education, and that I homeschooled them for their regular education (both unschooled and traditional settings).  It will make things easier.

I'll keep everyone updated.  I think this a very valid discussion that more people should have.  It's a part of parenting deliberately.  At this point we know this much.  If we do homeschool we aren't radical unschoolers.  It's not that I completely disagree with this (more here), I just don't think I can undo my "teacher" mindset, and the state of Virginia requires that homeschool students pass their state test based on their state standards.  Not to mention, adults are expected to meet objectives and dead lines.  It is my responsibility to teach my children to do the same.  We'd still be facilitators, but we'd present objectives that are to be met through inquiry based learning.  Defining who you'd be as homeschool parents is definitely the first step.  Read, search, and find your truth.  The next most important thing to know is who your child is.  What is their learning style (free test here take this with your child, you will need to interpret some of the questions for them, be sure to let THEM pick their answers.  Do not manipulate their answers.  It is based on their perceptions and not yours.), and what are their needs?  Not every kid was made for homeschooling, and not every kid is cut out for traditional schooling either (can you say Einstein or Edison).

What? You talking to me?

Panting.  Straining.  My muscles flex and release in a heavy, uneven cadence.  "Aw man, I feel like crap.  My legs are lead, and lungs are about to burst.  I can't wait until this is over... hey someone is coming.  Look lively.  Pick it up.  Make it look effortless.  Suppress that breathing!  sound chipper now, 'hello!' Ha!  I showed him.  Dang, now I'm really dead."  This is me, enjoying a run.  HA!  Honestly, this could be a metaphor for me "enjoying" life sometimes too.

Today, while I was running I didn't do this, but I did remember a day last week when I did something similar.  I was running through William and Mary College's Campus.  I have a tendency to especially "enjoy" runs on campus, I like to think I'm "showing those college kids whose boss".  Some "college kid" starts taunting me with, "Run! Run! Run!" and fake running arms.  So I schooled him with a, "You couldn't keep up", only to look over my shoulder to see one of the members of the College's Men's track team blazing past me on the other side of the street.  I am arrogant, prideful, vain, keep the list rolling... Mostly I like to make things about me.  I'm fast.  I'm smart.  I'm tough.  I deserve this.  I don't deserve that.  That's human nature isn't it.  God frequently, like this time, shows me that he expects a little more humility from me, but I sure don't want to listen.  The effect?  I take things I should enjoy, like a run, and make them miserable for me, and those around me, while simultaneously looking like a jack ass.  At least now I not only know this about myself, but I am working to knock it off.

I wasn't all that aware of God's attempts to show me this flaw until my husband left for boot camp.  I took on EVERYTHING: remodeling a house, homeschooling my kids, running my own business, and (though barely) keeping our utilities on, the car from getting repo-ed, and the house from going into foreclosure (Army didn't pay us for 10 weeks).  I mean, I AM superwoman, duh.  I THOUGHT I was being totally selfless, but in all reality I was being prideful, and indignant.  My neighbors offered help, and I NEEDED it, but I didn't accept it.  Superwoman doesn't need help.  In fact even offering help to Superwoman is taken as an insult.

One afternoon, after a day slaving away for my family, I was about to leave for my evening of tutoring several students.  It was a cold, snowy, Michigan evening.  I started the car, belted Cooper in.  He was 9.  Then walked Will to the neighbors.  The only help I accepted was to allow them to drive him to wrestling.  I walk back to the car and Cooper is standing outside of it.  "Why aren't you in the car?"
"I forgot something, but the house was locked"  I go to open the car door, but it's locked.  The car is still running.  The house locked.  The car locked and running.  I have no money.  Great.  (so I'll just use symbols instead of letters now).

"Excuse me!  What the @#$% Cooper.  G#$D@#MIT!  I don't have any money.  I'm going to be late to make money because you didn't listen to me!  Why the F@#$ didn't you listen to me."  At this point I hear myself talking.  This isn't me.  I rarely raise my voice at my kids, and now I'm swearing at my 9 year old who has a steady stream of tears rolling down his rosy cheeks.  I don't just swear at him.  I blame him.  In excusable, he is a child!  Wow.  Stressed much Superwoman?  After a very nice sheriff's deputy unlocks my car I find the clicker in my pocket.  I could've unlocked it all along.

With great humility, and shame, I apologize to Cooper.  I show him the car remote that I found in my pocket.  I admit that what I did was absolutely wrong, and I ask him to forgive me.  He says, "Thanks Mom, and of course I forgive you.  You are just stressed out and missing dad.  I know how you feel."  He certainly did, because he, more than any of us, was pining away for his dad.  Wow.  I'm a jack ass.  It was at this moment that I realized how much my pride, and my focus on myself (he locked ME out of the car, I was going to be late etc.), wounds everyone around me.  It isn't about me.  What I have a tendency to do on runs, ruin them by making them more about me than about the run, I also do in regular every day life.  Except I'm ruining more than a run.  Since that cold day with Cooper I have used my urges to make my runs about me (proving how tough I am) as an opportunity to conquer my pride.  Sometimes I still fail.

Now when my husband is gone and I'm doing it all, all by myself, I'm not as afraid to ask for help.  I am weak, and I need it.  I CAN'T do it all myself.  When I start to get cocky God always reminds me to be humble.  My kids are quite thankful for  the change.  Now Dad's absences aren't accompanied with a Mom spread thin to screaming.  I'm glad I learned that early on.  Now I can enjoy them, because I'm not making it about me.  I see this as a HUGE blessing, because I think it's normal human nature to make everything about "us".  It takes divine intervention to realize A.) that we do it B.) how we do it C.) how it affects our relationships and finally, D.) what we need to do to fix it.  So if confessing that I swore a red streak at my 9 year old because I'm a prideful idiot helps anyone else get A,B,C, or D it's worth it!

Paying it forward... It's the entire point!

My socks match!  Evidence that I am making good on my promise to myself to tend to the details of daily life!  I also signed the boys up for Religious Education yesterday.  My husband and I have preferred doing this education at home.  We also have preferred going to church without becoming members.  We have done that for years.  Part of why we homeschooled our kids in Religious Education was because we had to join a Parish to enroll them, and we either were between moves, or too busy and poor to donate time, treasure or talent.  We (knowingly) were not participating in what is probably the single most important part of not just our Religion, but any one's walk towards "goodness"; doing good for others.

When our kids were young (4 and 1) and were still in Indiana we did Pre-Cana (Pre-Marriage preparation), and Cooper went to Catholic school until 1st grade.  In Colorado Casey was a Catechist (Sunday School teacher).  When we left Indiana in 2007 we basically gave up trying to donate our time.  We knew we weren't dependable, and we weren't.  We've moved 5 times since 2007.  We devoted ourselves, instead, to doing good for the boys.  We'll be here for a while so it's time to get back to it!  Doing good deeds for others is the entire point of existence, and certainly religion is supposed to help us see this and give us opportunities for it.

However, anyone can do good deeds.  One of the things we tried to teach the boys, besides bible stories, the trinity, and the sacraments, was to recognize and SEIZE opportunities to help others in everyday life.  They are both good about fearlessly approaching people in stores and parking lots if they seem to need some help.  They are also, and this is something I'm quite proud of, very good at befriending kids at school that have been ridiculed and socially exiled.

The Religious Education director didn't know any of this when I called her yesterday.  She knew only that my kid's hadn't ever been enrolled in Religious Education, and that we weren't members of any Parish.  She rightfully assumed we were fallen away Catholics.  She wanted to interview the boys before deciding whether or not to enroll them in their grade appropriate classes, or to send them to RCIA (for a batized Catholic this is like a remedial class to re-educate you).  I felt that she was making a great choice!

When I showed up with the boys, tattooed and all (by the way, I see my tattoos as being no different than iconography and frescoes on church walls, though I am well aware not everyone shares my outlook) I think she was fairly certain they'd need to go to RCIA.  She left me to fill out paper work and took the boys to interview them.  When she was done she came to me and in a pleasantly surprised voice said, "They are adorable, and chatty.  I think they can just go to their grade appropriate classes.  You have done a great job with them".  WOW!  What a huge compliment.  What great validation!  Now, on to the next phase of parenting; teaching how to execute selfless service in a more "grown up way".

Something Good to say

I am obsessed with running along the James River, the river my ancestors (paternal lineage) traveled down in 1699.  Family history is so awesome.  I picture their wooden beast of a ship heaving itself up the James every time I run along it.  Though they were founding members of the Knights of Malta, They were now Huguenot nobility escaping religious oppression.  Not everyone lived through the trip across the punishing Atlantic.  They were escaping to the "New World" to land that William the Orange had promised them for their Heroics in his crusade against the Irish (Catholics).  The town they founded actually still exsists, there is a Huguenot museum there, (List of settlers: Daniel Foure is my ancestor listed in the final column).  This branch of my family sure liked to kill people in the name of religious affiliation.  I'm Catholic, my mom is Irish catholic.  So much for all that fighting, and exile.

I have a giant chest tattoo in the center is the family shield for this branch, behind it is a Maltese Cross, and behind the Maltese Cross is a Eucharist.  There is a point to all of this.  Everyone has something to contribute to our development spiritually and intellectually.  I don't want to miss out on what I can learn from Ayn Rand simply because she was an Atheist, "Ask yourself whether the dream of heaven and greatness should be waiting for us in our graves - or whether it should be ours here and now and on this earth."  I know what her intended meaning was, but I take something very different away from this quote than she intended.  Even though she might roll over in her grave, I can interpret this as telling me to live for heaven now.  I will not keep from myself the words of an author because of their religious beliefs, because I want to explore myself.  There is no discovery in exploration without a challenge.  I certainly will not kill someone because they don't see eye to eye with me.  

I am lucky enough know of the contradictions that riddle my family's history.  I think this has given me permission to view all people as equally, inherently, flawed, and as able teachers.  Einstein, Aristotle, Dickens, Rand, Ghandi, all flawed and all lend VALUABLE insights that I have learned from.  They all had something good to say.  While they may not share my religious beliefs or practices, they have something to teach about Virtue, even if some of them (ahem Dickens) weren't very virtuous.  I'll take the lesson and leave the internal struggle of the teacher to the teacher to worry about.  My tattoo is a "little" reminder of not only family history, but also of this lesson:  a life well lived accomplishes more than the sword.  Oh yeah,  P.s. on a sidenote.  Even though my Ancestor, Daniel Foure, was one of the Huguenots that helped to found Manakin Va in order to escape religious persecution, I cannot join the Huguenot society headed there because I am not a protestant.  I don't care who you are, that's funny.

Why I stopped competing/training

I need to give a bit of background and a qualifier or two. First, this is a rendering of my journey, not a universal truth that adheres to everyone. Second, I am Catholic. While even I thought this had little to do with my decision, in hindsight it is a heavy hitter in the process.

When I found out I was pregnant with Cooper I was 21, a senior in College, engaged to Casey, Captain and number 1 runner at Indiana State University. When I made the decision to keep our baby I put little thought into the Catholic Vocations. There are three of them, three paths or purposes to life; Religious Life (being a Nun, Priest, or Monk), Single Life (in which you are a missionary carrying out tasks too laborious and time consuming for a family person or Parish Priest), or Married Life. This will sound archaic, which is precisely why I put little thought into it, but if you chose Married Life as your "vocation" you are to devote yourself wholly to raising your children and to your marriage. The idea being that this is the path that will allow you to walk more closely with Christ through your sacrifices, hard work, and you will be a missionary of sorts to your children. I don't know about you, but the idea of two seperate people working to become one spirit in Christ is daunting.  That's one purpose of Marriage within the Catholic Church.  It's hard enough for two seperate people to agree a single paint color, let alone become one spirit!  Being 21 and pregnant I pretty much only thought about the fact that a.) I wouldn't fit in my wedding dress, and b.) I won't let this end my running career.

Fast Forward 8 years. It's the 2008 Chicago Marathon. I am at the elite starting line along side many World Class Runners, only 3 of whom have children at all and yet I have 2. I put in many many miles to get here. I ran until I was too tired to do anything but spend the afternoon on the couch while my sons watched T.V.. I saw Casey and the boys on the sidelines in their "Go Mom" t-shirts, and I began to wonder, is this my path? Is this really where I belong?

I flashed back to a snowy Sunday morning. I was 5 miles into a long run when one of the gym's daycare workers came rushing across the expansive gym. I was more annoyed than worried when she stopped at my machine. "Mrs. Gasway? We need you to come right away." When I got to the daycare room I saw Cooper covered in blood. Will (5) had slammed Cooper's (8) face off the concrete floor. I cleaned Cooper up, and much to the horror of the workers got right back on the treadmill.

I was unable to finish that race (Chicago). I have pretty severe asthma, and I have fall allergies. The two were working against me.  Afterwards, I went back to the Elite Suite to get my things, and my youngest son was literally climbing the walls. He was bored out of his mind. There was a stairwell in the media area. Directly underneath this stairwell was the food for the journalists. He kept sliding down the handrail, dirty shoes hanging over the food. I was MORTIFIED!   I was too tired and defeated to really do much about it.

After Chicago, I took some time to myself to think about how I was purposing my life. I knew that my sons needed more of me than they were gettting. I also knew that I needed running to keep sane. I took it easy that winter and ran the 25k River BAnk Run in May. I had another asthma attack. This one was much worse. I finished the race, but had to deny ambulance transport. It was Mother's Day. My kids weren't with me, they were at home, 4 hours away. This was pretty much "it" for me.

I went home to a husband that scolded me, but was empathetic, and two fabulous kids that were happy to have me back regardless of my performance. I realized that my kids loved me unconditionally at the moment, but it was temporary.  My finances were a mess, my children were longing for me, and my husband felt powerless in his life.  I saw bits of this lifescape at this point, but not all of it, and I knew I was at the core of the positive change my family needed.  I am the mother.  I am the center.  Whatever direction I spin in my family follows like a pinwheel.

A lot of change occured in my life at this point, including Casey's decision to join the Army. I took some time to myself and read a book a running friend of mine had sent to me "Called to be Holy".  It was at this point that I began to make a conscience decision to chose time with my kids over time at the track.  It was also during this period that I began to realize that my youngest son wasn't yet learning to read and he was half way through 1st grade.  I began to spend a lot of time researching dyslexia, and learning how to tutor children with dyslexia so as to reconstruct their synapses.  I was advocating on his behalf at school, and eventually pulled him out to homeschool him so that I could teach him to read.

This brings us to January 2010.  Over the next 2 years I spend a majority of my time and energy raising my sons.  Not in a June Cleaver sense.  I began to understand the idea behind the "vocations".  My job was to raise my sons to be whole, happy people that know and UNDERSTAND the LOVE of God, and how to love LIKE God.  This meant, more than anything, I needed to be an example of how to serve God.  This also meant that I needed to be tuned into their needs, which of course I couldn't do if I was only tuned in to my own needs.

Easter 2010 I did a TON of meditation.  I realized that my MOTIVATION to compete was driven by my own vanity.  I wanted recognition.  I was putting my "vocation" on the shelf to feed my own vanity.  To "run for God", would be the vocation of a single person.  This line of reasoning was reinforced with the fact that most of my peers were single.  The time and focus required only took me away from my family, and forced me to focus most of my energy on being in tune with my own needs, which I realized was counter productive.  It was at this point that I decided I would run for my mental and physical health ONLY.  I would no longer train to feed my vanity. 

I know I am a flawed person.  I can be an out-right asshole sometimes.  Grace means that God loves me anyway.  He loves me not as a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, but loves me as a verb.  He will meet my NEEDS (not desires) even though I don't deserve it.  He will forgive me even though I am not worthy.  He will ALWAYS listen, though not always answer.  God is always in tune with me, even if I'm not always tuned in to God.  This is the love I want to embody for my children.  I realize that I cannot embody this type of love if all of my energy is focused on me doing my own thing.  It takes a lot of energy, focus, and yes, selfishness to pursue huge success in any field.  I needed to shift that focus from my running to my family.  If I were to continue on the path I was on in 2008 I would have taught my children annoyance, impatience, and how to be self-serving.

I have come to understand that the Single and Religious lives wouldn't have pushed me closer to God.  I am naturally a selfish person.  I love time alone to reflect and meditate.  Being on my own is my comfort zone.  Cooper was no accident.  Meeting Casey was no accident.  God knew what I'd need to learn to love like him, and he gave it to me.  It took me a while to surrender to my situation and understand it.  Since I have devoted myself as a servant in my role as a Parent and Spouse my life has become my refuge.  My finances are straight, my Marriage is as strong as ever, my children feel whole and happy.  My children know humility, and love with grace.  They are seeking their purpose, and I am their torch bearer.  That is a better reward than any finish line.

I may again run in races, but I will not be competing in the same sense as I once did.

journeying

Comfort kills. I heard that in some advertising campaign a while ago. I don't mean it literally, because I actually like being comfortable. I mean it in an broad figurative sense. Getting complacent with your life and yourself kills the potential human you could be. Casey and I, a long time ago, dreamed of adopting a "little" girl. I say "little" because we never really imagined ourselves adopting a baby. We knew we didn't want to dip below the age of 5. There are so many kids ready to be adopted right here in the US foster care system. They all have a back story, and NONE of them are responsible for how they ended up there. This morning we head to our social-workers office to discuss our potential matches.

I could go into a preachy, don't blame the children for the crime of the parents speech here, but instead I want to share the personal side of this decision. After all, it's the personal side that is interesting, no one cares what socio-political view point sparked the initial motivation. This process is beautiful and terrifying all at once. Since starting I have seen my family members in ways I never could have if we'd remained complacent, and my love for them has grown profoundly deep.

I have not met many men that would agree to bring a 10-14 year old girl into their family. Most men steer clear of girls that age, and rightfully so, they can be terrifying little balls of raging hormones. My man? He said let's go to the classes. I think he may have had a Daddy Warbucks fantasy at first, he does LOVE to be the hero. I was sure to burst his bubble at every opportunity. I have been working with At-Risk youth most of my adult life, and I knew he needed to go into this with eyes wide open.

As we went through classes I watched his perceptions of foster-care adoption change. His altruistic rosey picture became more real. He came to realize that even though our future daughter WANTS a family, she won't (most likely) want a "replacement" family. She will have memories, yes even fond ones, of her own biological family and we must respect those. He came to own the role of Father for a girl means something that is much different than it is for our boys. I think he relishes that fact.

Our approval was official last Saturday. While I jumped up and down and sang in celebration with our sons I failed to notice my understated spouse slip away. A few minutes later, when I realized he was gone, I went to look for him. I found him upstairs pouring over the adoption listings for girls in our age bracket. He didn't even notice me enter the room. His dark brows were pinched in concentration. This was his celebration. The rest of the weekend he perused listings, tried to find more information via Google, and narrowed the listing down to three different girls, two of whom were sisters (we want them both).

As I watched his intensity I realized that I whatever I thought the measure of his heart was, and I thought it was huge, I was wrong. It's bigger than I had fathomed. Its funny that we forget our spouses are people, individuals. After, gosh, 12 years of marriage, I had begun to see him as an extension of me. In this moment I came to appreciate him the way I had 12 years ago, only this time with clarity. He is beautiful. Can I say that about a man? A stinky, deep sea diver man? It is true.

He was viewing these three girls as though they were daughters already, I could see it in his intensity. He'd been this way before, with our sons. Whenever the boys need something, be it a toy repaired or medical attention, his entire posture changes. He comes nearly robotic, his brows pinch together and his eyes become fixed. There is no talking to him then, he is mission focused. To see him this direct this energy at POTENTIAL offspring humbled me, and filled me near to bursting.

The adoption has allowed me to see my spouse as a human being! A human being with a mansion of a heart, and an bottomless well of a soul. My wonderment of his beauty has been not re-born, but re-constructed. Because of this journey, and his refusal to be complacent I have seen more of who he is than ever before. I feel incredibly fortunate. His babies (11 and 8 now) are little reflections of the quality of his life. I'll save that entry for later.