Passing It On

Disclaimer:  There is a naughty word in this one.  Try holding back the four letter words when you drop a full gallon of milk from the fridge.  There were milk splatters within a 6ft radius of the fridge.  (NOTE: I didn't actually say this word, I just thought it.  Over, and over, and over.)

As parents, what is our role?
Is it to do our best, with what we have, to raise independent, strong people?  Are there more words, perhaps, better words to describe the process of raising kids?  Probably.  But I'm tired.  Spent.  Let me give you a glimpse into the day we've had.

I'm trying to rest a little more because braxton hicks contractions have become a daily part of my routine.  Y'know, my uterus is contracting.  Every day.  In preparation for birth.  Which is approximately 13-15,000 weeks away...
Moms don't get sick days though, so instead of putting up my feet and hydrating, our day began at 6:24am, and hasn't stopped since.
Cue:  Ellie crying.  6:24am.  Audrey is already in our bed because at some point in the night, a time which neither of us can pinpoint, she scampered in.
"Mom, Ellie's awake.  Can I watch a cartoon on your phone?"
"No, Audrey.  It's still night time and Ellie is going to join us so we can all get some more sleep."

Ha HAHA ha..haha

No one else thinks this is a good idea.
So, at 6:24am, every person in our house started their day.

I am trying to be extra grateful, and patient and loving because in our extended family, there have been three deaths in the past couple of weeks.
I know that funerals shouldn't motivate me to be my best, but they do encourage me to appreciate the things that I might normally yell about.

I dragged my butt around until about 10am.  I tried to avoid doing anything, because, remember? I am supposed to be resting?  However, no one else thinks this is a good idea.

Cue:  Audrey comes downstairs wearing no pants (the pants were pj bottoms.  Try not to judge), carrying two hand towels from our bathroom.
"What happened, Audrey?"
"Well, Mom, it was just a' accident.  It's OK."
"OKaaaaaaaaaaaaay, so what happenend?"
"Well, I just went pee on your toilet, but then there was more pee.  A lot more pee, and I wasn't on the toilet anymore.  But it's OK.  I cleaned it up."

So, I try to follow her trail and clean up all the droplets of pee, pee towels and, somehow, the pile of pee covered pj's and undies on our bathroom floor.

At this point, I'm thinking that I'm entitled to a "get-out-of-jail-free-card" for the rest of the day.  There can't possibly be more than cleaning pee.  All.  Through.  Your.  House.

The universe had other plans.

Not 10 minutes later, there was about a half gallon of milk spilled from one end of the kitchen to the other end of the living room.
Because it fell out of the fridge.

The first thing out of Audrey's mouth after this happenend?
"Mom, why did you put the apple juice like that.  You made the milk fall out."

Now, when one has an accident, or makes a mistake, why is the first instinct to think, "WHO THE FUCK CAUSED THIS/MADE THIS HAPPEN TO ME?!?!"

We try to place blame onto someone else, immediately, because we're trying to avoid admitting that we've made this mistake.
That would mean admitting that we're imperfect.  That we did something wrong.  That we're (gasp) fallible.
And it appears, my husband and I are passing this onto to our kids.

Yuck.
There's no easier way to see your own flaws, than when they start pouring out of your babes' mouths, or showing up in their behaviours.

Also, it's easier to identify these traits, and hopefully make a few positive changes so that everyone benefits!

So, I am resolving to be more accountable for my actions.  To show my kids that it's OK to make mistakes and that finding out who did what, or how such and such happened, is secondary.  Period.  It's powerful to own your actions and mistakes, and it's so important for them to know that looking for someone to blame only creates a loser out of a situation that has neither a winner, nor a loser.

And the day carried on - one child ate the rest of an advent calendar in our bed and wiped their chocolate hands on our sheets.
Deliver said child to preschool after threatening to take away school several times (I'm weak, I know), put other child down for MUCH needed nap, have dog wake child after 25 minutes, only to have her proceed to tear the lower portion of the house apart...including, but not limited to, taking all of the folded clothes out of the hamper, removing all 300 pairs of shoes from the closet, playing with precisely 7 toys from 7 different bins...
And then it's time to retrieve older child from school and begin again.

Is it beditme yet?

The Grip of Motherhood

I've been slacking on my workouts.
I could make any number of excuses for why this has been happening, but in the end, they're excuses.

I got my butt out to a crossfit class on Sunday morning and I was reminded, for one hour, of who I am, outside of being a Mom and wife.

When I am in the gym, I get to have an hour to myself.  One hour to work really hard (because quality is SO much more important than quantity nowadays), one hour to work out my frustrations, to push my muscles to places they've never been, one hour to prove to myself that my body can carry and nurture babies, just as well as it can deadlift, bench press or power clean.

I was reflecting on my way home from class about how it is incredibly easy to get caught up in motherhood.  I mean this in a completely non-judgemental way, because I know many women who are the happiest they've ever been when they're immersed wholly in being a Mom.  Myself, personally, I need some time to myself to decompress, and to remember that I have goals and aspirations outside of being a Mother and wife.

Us Moms with little kids, y'know, the kids who are completely dependent on us for everything, are the most in danger of getting caught up.  From the time we they wake up, until they go to bed, we will change diapers, change clothes, do hair, make breakfast, referee, clean up, make snacks, clean up again, get naps in, do laundry...'ya get it, hey?  And it's only 9:30...
So our entire day is completely jam-packed by the seemingly trivial tasks that we bundle up neatly and call - being a Mom.

It can be very challenging to carve out time just for Mom.  Some might even call a Mother who wants 3 or 4 or 5 hours a week to workout, or train or go to a choir practice, or sewing class...GASP!  Selfish!

That's fair.  Mom's judge.  It's unavoidable.  We should all be trying to praise one another for keeping all these kids alive, day after day, but it's natural to pass a little judgement.  Just keep it to yourself, capiche?

It is a little bit selfish to ask our husband, partner, family and friends to watch our kiddies while we head out to enjoy something other than being a Mom.
But I would rather be selfish now, and as a result, also be the best Mom I can be, than look back in 18 years, and think to myself, "Now, where do I pick up where I left off 18 years ago?"
I'd like to maintain some semblance of momentum, than stop, only to have to start from 0 once the kids are grown.

I never, ever want to resent my kids.  They are beautiful and innocent, and did not, in any way, choose to be added to our family.  That is a decision their Dad and I made.  Does that make the choice to take time for myself, wrong?  No.  Would that make another Mom's choice to put her goals aside for 2 or 5 or 18 years, wrong?  No.
Our parenting choices aren't limited to choices we make only for our children.  Our parenting choices affect everyone, and every single family is entitled to make and live with their choices.  Judgement-free.

So, I'm headed to my last few crossfit classes before I switch over to bootcamp again for the rest of this pregnancy, and although I haven't run more than a couple km since my half marathon in August, I have definitely been running!  Mostly in the form of sprints - suicides, murder-suicides, relays, sled pushes - all sorts of fun activities!

I thought I'd include a picture of our track and the WOD from awhile ago, so there's proof I'm still moving my rear!
I've put on a few pounds.  Many, many, pounds.  I'm not beating myself up, but I know that my goals for 2014 and 2015 are very grand and I'll have to get right back into the grind after thing #3 arrives, so staying in shape is very important during this pregnancy.

Crossfit is defined by acronyms.
I still have no idea what most of them mean!

Even at 6 months pregnant, I can own
my heat in the sprints!  (Sometimes.)

God Bless the Swiffer SweeperVac

I've used this gem of an appliance three times today already.
It's currently 9:43am.

In real life I use the swiffer once or twice a day and in pregnant life I use it more.  As in, 10x as much.
It really, truly is a gift.
I think that if social services is ever called to a home, they should bring along a swiffer, give the house a quick once-over and then assess the situation.
I bet 9 times out of 10 they would just carry on...

So, in my life before children I owned a swiffer and broke it out on the rare occasion that there was a mess on the floor worthy of taking care of.
Now that they're here, like I mentioned before, this device saves my sanity. All.  Friggin'.  Day. Long.

I never dreamed and longed to be a Mother.
I know that loads of gals out there have wanted to get married and have children for as long as they can remember, but I was never one of them.
That's not to say I'm not extraordinarily grateful for my little people, because I really, really am - even as one empties the water bottle cupboard and then moves onto the tea towel drawer - I am so proud to be their Mom, and I know that we are blessed.
It's just that I'm not the kind of Mom who pays attention to the details.
There.  I said it.
Admitting it is the first step, no?

I've never paid attention to the details.
We get through the day.  Alive.  You can't ask any more of me.  Seriously.

Having children was something I assumed would happen for me, and yet getting married was definitely not something I wanted to do.
And even then, I was cool knowing that I might be a labrador-loving spinster who travelled the globe and worked out and ran.  A lot.  (There are days I think this life sounds awesome.  But not many.)

The fact that we are going to add a third child to our family not only makes us a family with a couple of kids, it makes us a family with a bunch of kids.
*sigh*

It's both exciting and overwhelming at the same time.

Add to all of this emotion a step on the scale this morning, and that step might as well have been over the "hopeless" cliff.
*double sigh*

I have to whip myself back to reality by reminding myself that I weighed more before Ellie was conceived than I do today, however I worked my a$& off to get to where I was and I can't help but know that once this baby is born, I will have a ton of work to do.
*triple sigh...oh hell, I've lost count of how many times I've actually sighed today...

Until then, I'm going to drink some water to avoid eating another a mid-morning nanaimo bar, and listen to the blessed sounds of my children fighting.

You can't see, because I cropped it out, but they're in bare feet.
No shoes.  That would be a detail.
Cute as buttons though, right?!

Monkey Wrench

I've been absent.  Non-existent.  Delinquent, if you will.
But, I have a good reason.  The BEST reason, perhaps.
I'm par-egnant!
A.G.A.I.N.

From day one, I nicknamed this tiny, precious human being, monkey wrench.
Day one, which also happened to be the day I ran my best half marathon ever and clocked a 2:02 time (heartbreaking, although it was a personal best), may very well go down as one of the most emotional days of my life.
Add a huge personal victory, a beautiful and memorable race, and the fact that I learned that we were going to be a five-some, and you would have relived that day.

I will not be running in the Goofy race this year because I will be around 24 weeks pregnant, and that would be toats cray cray, however I have the option to defer my race fees until 2015, and I will be doing the race then - 6 months post babe.  So, send me lots of good, healthy running vibes because the summer and fall of 2014 will be PACKED with running!

"But, you were trying to get pregnant?"
No.
"So, why did you even check?"
I was going to have an x-ray done of my ankle after I'd run the race because it was aggravated.
"Hm."

This is how my first midwife appointment went.

Was this baby planned?
Nope.
Wanted?
Absolutely, positively and in the most incredible and awe-inspiring way.

Now, what happens to the average person during the first few months of pregnancy?
They generally feel awful and just get to "be" pregnant.

Me?
No, no, no, no, no.
I.  Pack.  It.  On.

A positive sign truly equals 10lbs for me.

And I'm up a few from there...

Actually, at this very moment I'm wearing my new crossfit kicks as I dive into my second cookie.
No joke.

I'm still getting exercise.  Not the running sort, because as I previously mentioned, I buggered my ankle to the point of why-bother-rehabilitating-if-I'm-going-to-be-a-heffer-soon, but I'm getting my butt to crossfit at least twice a week, so long as I'm not exhausted or fighting a 6-week cold.
My weight isn't going to climb into the 60+lb gain, as it did with Audrey, but closer to the 30, er, 40lb range as with Ellie.

I'm strangely the most comfortable with this that I've ever been during any of my pregnancies.
(It is STILL shocking to me that I am referring to my TWO previous pregnancies in comparison to this one!  Like, who DOES that?!?!  Three kids?!?!  Well, *sigh*, we do...)

I am going to exercise and eat the treats and feel good without worrying about the weight.
It will come off.

And then, when my minions, I mean, children are a little older, I'm going to set my sights on even bigger, loftier goals.
Because what's the point if we're not reaching beyond our grasp?

Summertime!

We have had a crazy fun and busy summer so my blogging has fallen to the wayside.

Life is happening and we are making memories!

We have had a great summer.  We have spent time with family, we have gone on a road trip or two and we have been able to enjoy some lazy summer days, because if you ask anyone in the prairie provinces of Canada, it's been kind of a crummy, cold summer!

We went for Japanese one day and had so much fun
"corralling" Ellie with the legless seat backs!

I had created goals for myself at the beginning of the summer and I have met and exceeded all of them except for one.

I did not compete in the Devon triathlon.  I decided that I hadn't put in enough time in the pool and so I wasn't ready.  I beat myself up a bit over it, because as anyone who creates goals can tell you, when you don't complete something you've set out to do, it can be a little disheartening.

The fact of the matter was, I hadn't made triathlon training a priority.

I have made running a priority, however, and my hard work and kilometers logged allowed me to run a personal best time at the Moose is Loose and I came in with a 2:07:45.

I cried a little, as I always do when I achieve a PB time, and then my thoughts immediately drifted into the logistics and timing that would be needed to run a sub 2 hour half in the Edmonton marathon.

Well, here it is.

Six days away from the Edmonton Derby marathon and I'm nervous.  

I'm nervous that I won't prep well, or feel good, or that I'll have to pee (legit concern!) and my time will be around a 2:02 or 2:05 and then I'll be crying for another reason.

I know, without a doubt that I can run a 2 hour, actually, 1:59:59, half marathon, but I also know my body, and I don't want to risk injury or extreme exhaustion for the sake of a time.

I'm stretching.
On the couch.
Because I had to still be a Mom, even though I couldn't hardly walk!

I have said it before, and I will say it again now.  

Running is a part of who I am.

I am happy when I'm running.

This nagging ankle injury could very well be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
In the grande scheme, it's petty.
But it is still significant in the life of an athlete.

I met with a sports medicine physician at the University of Alberta last month who basically said that the injury I've been told I have all along, by my family physician and physiotherapist, is in fact, not at all the injury that is plaguing me currently.
Sinus tarsi syndrome.  At least it's nice to put a name to it!
The injury I have that will not release it's grasp, is an inflammation of the space behind all the ligaments I've previously injured.
I don't know the anatomy or physiology of this injury, and it's irrelevant anyways, because bottom line is I've got an appointment for a cortisone shot in early September.
This.  Is.  A.  Big.  deal.

Cortisone.
Steroids.
What I've tried to avoid at all costs.

I'm still not even sure I'm going to go through with it because I feel like it could be a make or break (no pun intended) kind of decision.
Time will tell and in the in-between-time I've got another half marathon to run, so I'll post again after this brief and cold summer is over.

We spent many days on the beach, the monkey girls and their Dad and I.
Good times!  We LOVE the lake!

When You're Ready Come & Get It

Thanks to Miss Selena G, I've adopted this as my new running mantra.

When you're ready.  It's there.  Waiting for you.
What is?
Everything and anything you ever dreamed.

One of my favorite Mumford & Sons songs was playing.
I was just cresting a long, but gradual incline, and I could barely see my loose fists pumping, rhythmically.
Right, left, right, left.
My legs were answering, strong and powerful, in opposite rhythm.
Left, right, left, right.
I glanced at my watch.
14.41km.
My last split was a 6:47km, so I was putting on the gas a little bit, shooting for 6 minute kilometres for my last 4.
The song begins to crescendo and I can feel the smile start across my face, because this, this is perfection.
I turn the corner onto the busy highway and I know I'm on the home stretch.
My smile grows bigger as my Selena song comes on.
I'm ready and I'm pouncing on it.
I am a runner, and I AM a distance runner.

It's around noon on a Sunday and I'm just out for an 18km run.
No biggie.
Seriously.

In just a few short years, I am able to run a half marathon a month.
And also keep up with bi-weekly crossfit classes and a handful of bike rides every week.

When you're ready come and get it.
I am so loving this right now because it represents so much for me.
To me, it means that we can all be whatever we dream to be.
It is up to us, and no one else.
It's up to you to go and get it, to become it.
Triathlete?  Train for it.  Register.  Do it.
Want to be fit and healthy?  Find something.  Anything.  And go do it.  Get up and go.  And.  Do.  It.
Aspire to change careers?  Be courageous and find a way to make it happen.
It is so simple and it's all right there in front of you.

As I finished up my last kilometre, which happened to be my fastest, at 5:15, because I REALLY poured it on, I felt like at that moment in the universe, I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing.  Running.
I realized that I probably could have held a faster pace, more consistently, but really, it was a great run, on an absolutely amazing day and I knew I had come a long way.

An 18km run isn't a huge feat for me anymore, and I need to aim higher.

And that's what I'm doing.

Goofy, you and I have date on January 11 & 12, 2014.
Bring it on.
I'm ready for it all.

Goodbye 31

At the bottom of this post is a link for a song.

Do yourself a favor and click on it so it can play while you read this post about how grateful I am for my life.  I'm not sure if it has anything to do with this post, but it's a picker-upper and it will surely make you smile!

Today is my 32nd birthday.

And what do I have to show for it?

Everything.

Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that this would be the life I would be living at 32 years old.

I am married to a man who is my perfect match.  Who encourages and supports me while I dream crazy big dreams and register for "goofy" and spectacular races.  Who thinks I'm beautiful at all the different sizes I've been during our time together.  Who is the most incredible Daddy to two of the coolest broads I've ever known.  And who I know loves me.  Unconditionally.

Even when I'm not-so-lovable.

I have a billion dollar family.

By traditional standards, we don't have the "million dollar family", but we do have a billion dollar family.

What does that mean?

It means that we are perfect just as we are.  Our girls are perfect (mostly).  Our family is perfect (generally). And our life is as close to perfect as can be.

And we could live forever with nothing but the clothes on our backs and each other and be the happiest people on the planet.

Not only do we have a pretty perfect (did I mention that before?) family, but our extended family is pretty phenomenal as well.

We have two sets of parents who support us and want to spend as much time as possible with our girls and we've got siblings who are nearly as cool as us.  ;)

We also have Aunts and Uncles who are like second sets of parents to us and we have grandparents who have always tried to give us the world.

We really are a lucky bunch.

My Dad and I competed in our first triathlon on Father's Day.

It was a sprint distance which included a 750m open water swim, a double loop 20km bike and another double loop 5km run.

It was one of the best racing experiences of my life.

I was shocked at how I was able to endure and how I felt like a real athlete in my tri wetsuit.

(I finished 16th overall in the swim and I am so proud of that!)

Isn't it cool that I get to share in so many race experiences with my Dad?

We're done!
And we're still wearing our ever-forgiving tri suits!  (NOTE:sarcasm)

So, on this day, my 32nd birthday, that I am treating as a Thanksgiving day, I am grateful.
I have great family, friends and a very hard fought, but battle won, for my health.
This has been the best year of my life and to everyone who was involved in all of my victories and challenges overcome, thank you.
This entire year would not have been possible without you and although many of my 32 years have come and gone with not much to show, this year will always be close to my heart and a memorable one.

These girls are so friggin' cool!
So glad we get to be roomies!

Gone gone gone