Thursday 13: The Music Edition

Happy Halloween! Hope the Great Pumpkin brings you lots of treats and maybe a few fun tricks, nothing too awful!

One of the things I used to do a lot in this space was my Thursday 13, where I would basically verbally vomit scattershot observations, comments and other random things, with the only common thread being that there were 13 of them. Mostly 13. Sometimes I forgot how to count.

I would like to continue that in the revived blog, but today I think I'm going to put a different spin on it and use my Thursday list to power-rank something. One of the things we like to do in the car on trips is make lists.  It keeps the conversation going and we learn new things about the people in our lives that way.  On a recent trip with the Elder Child, we set out to list the five bands that we would be happy with listening to for the rest of our lives. And we would have to be REALLY happy with them, because we would never be able to listen to anyone but those five again in the history of ever. There were some instant choices that were easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy to make, and others that were tougher. So I've decided to expand on that (and in the process make the task easier, because I have EIGHT more choices!) and give you my Top 13 Favorite Bands/Artists.

So, in no particular order, are the 13 artists that I would choose if I had to listen exclusively to them for the rest of my life:

Eagles
Van Morrison
Rick Springfield
Tom Petty/Traveling Wilburys
John Mellencamp
Foo Fighters
Pink Floyd
Mumford & Sons
U2
Dire Straits/Marc Knopfler
Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry
Led Zeppelin
Blue October

Yes, I'm old. Yes, I'm stuck in 1981. Sorry, can't be helped. For the most part, this is the stuff I grew up listening to, and this is the stuff that resonates with me. And this is the stuff that makes me turn up the radio, little by little with each passing song, until I am blaring the stereo out of my open sunroof and annoying the neighbors as I pull into the driveway. Whoops.

(and, yes, I realize I'm leaving out oh so much from the 1980s, but most of those acts were one-hit-wonders, and as much as I loves me some 80s, I don't think I really could listen to 99 Luftballoons for the rest of eternity. Sorry Nena!)

Wellness Wednesday

As part of my employer's human resources benefits, we have a very robust Wellness Gold program available to us. It encompasses six aspects of Wellness, beyond the usual physical & mental components typical of such things. The six dimensions include:

Physical

Occupational

Spiritual

Emotional

Social

Intellectual

There are lists of tasks for each component that we are asked to complete, along with journaling, self-assessments and reflections. I thought it would be fun to share some of those observations and exercises here. 

The task I've chosen to highlight today falls under the Emotional Wellness category. I was to consider a time I've needed help, asked for help, and received help. 

This is easy for me, as if you know me at all, you know that I'm about 2 degrees removed from being a hot mess. Luckily. I have been blessed with an amazing network of friends who would walk through fire for me, no questions asked, so I have resources readily available when I need help. Sometimes that help is just a confirmation that my initial response to a problem is on target, or sometimes I need true troubleshooting and advice on a course of action. And most often, I just need encouragement and a kind word, and a reminder that things will work out. 

I have many friends that I can count on for this, but the two that come to mind most readily are Marci & MK.  They are always available, without judgement, to listen, to reason with me, to tell me what I know but am too frazzled to remember. And once in a while, when warranted, they smack me (figuratively) upside the head and tell me to get a grip. Not only that, but they do it with a smile and a sense of humor that never fails to not only help me with the crisis du jour but put a smile on my face. 

For that, I am grateful. And I hope that I am even half as beneficial to them when they need the same as they are to me. 

Who do you call when you need help? 

Traditions Tuesday

One of the things I love most about my family is our tendency to create traditions around nearly everything. As my boys were growing up, I felt it was my role as the mother to create a sense of family and nurture activities and memories that were uniquely ours. Traditions to me are things that set us apart from other families, that root my boys in the comfort of home, that provide some constancy and comfort year after year.

Now that I'm dusting off the blog, I think I will spend at least one Tuesday a month talking about traditions, things that we do in our house that help us bond as a family, either around holidays or trips, or just day-to-day things. 

October means Halloween, and that means costumes. And one definite tradition was our home-made costumes. With the exception of a Buzz Lightyear costume (that was actually mostly a year-round cosplay thing before cosplay was cool, though, so we will give it a pass) almost all of the boys' costumes were handmade/assembled. And there were some cool ones over the years. Their creativity always shone through, even if our handiwork in putting them together maybe wasn't perfect. But that was part of the fun. 

Now that the Nerdlet is 13, he's not going trick-or-treating this year, and our tradition seems to have come to an end. I would be more sad about that if we didn't have such great memories of costumes from years gone by. 

And I would also miss it more if we weren't such nerds that we dress up for comic & scifi cons! Thanks to cosplay and it being somewhat socially acceptable to dress up at cons, we can continue our traditions year-round!! 

What was your favorite Halloween costume, as a kid or as a grown-up? 

What are some of your favorite traditions? 

This is 44

So, my birthday was yesterday. I am one year away from flipping age groups, one year away from my 10-year marathon-versary. My baby boy turned 13 yesterday, too, and my college kid came home for the weekend to celebrate with us.

I laughed too loudly and had too much wine with my friends yesterday afternoon, and I stayed up too late watching the Boston Red Sox tie the World Series to those dastardly red birds. I skipped my morning run in favor of snuggling with my husband (who, by the by, has quietly accumulated greater weekly mileage totals than me lately). I had two pieces of cake. And I regret none of it. That's the freedom of 44, y'all. It kinda rocks.

So, what's been going on? A little of this, a little of that, and not much of anything. I've got some plans cooking for the next few months, nothing monumental. But one of the things I want to do is get back to blogging, get back to capturing the daily ramblings in my head. I miss being able to go back in time and remember what was going through my brain, like I was able to do when I blogged more. So that's the goal for this, my 44th year. Some days you'll get a picture (probably a lot of days you'll get a picture), some days you'll get a workout summary, or a race report (racing?? what is that??). More likely you'll get a rant, or some silliness like a poll or a questionnaire. Who knows. The only rule is that there are no rules. It's my blog, and I'll do what I want with it. You're welcome to come along for the ride!

Friday Five: My Cup Runneth Over

That is all. 

Friday Five: The (Belated) Graduation Edition

Graduation weekend is here is history now. The Hockey Player is done with high school & is a real-life high school graduate now. I've taken the last few weeks months off organized rides & group runs so I can focus on being a mom, trying to enjoy the last moments before the boy flies away. There have been multiple random crying jags in the car, where I just get overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. We vacillate wildly & unpredictably between not wanting him to leave quite yet and being so frustrated with his attempts to be independent that I'm ready to pack his bags for him.

So, in honor of this auspicious occasion (that happened last week, but, y'know, life & stuff...) (and in homage/direct theft to a blog entry by my girl MK), here are the Five Things I Would Tell High School Me And By Extension My High School Graduate. Enjoy. Add your own words of advice in the comments, too!!

5. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up. This is why the child doesn't have a job this summer, and why we're not really pushing him to get one. There are only so many times in your life that you can go to a midnight movie on any day of the week, sleep until 11 and have the only responsibilities be to clean the cat box and empty the dishwasher every other day. I've been self-sufficient since I was 17, and I want him to relax and enjoy the ride.

4. Don't be stupid, but cut loose every now and then. I wasn't stupid, but I was definitely way too straight-laced. I played it safe because I was terrified of getting into trouble and having it affect *everything*. I probably could have been a little more adventurous, a little more daring, had a few more hijinks, and still avoided getting into any serious issues.

3. You can move on from high school without moving on from your true good friends. I was so ready to leave high school and my hometown behind that I did a lousy job of keeping up with a  handful of people in my life that really mattered. I should have kept stronger ties to them and not let life interfere.  I've reconnected with them in the last few years (thank you social media!) but there are a lot of life events that went on for us that we missed out on, and I am sorry about that. Friends are the family you choose, and will be such a critical part of your life, and when you find some that share your values, share your passions, and who fill your life with muchness, hold them tight and don't let go.

2. Be careful who you trust, and listen to people who care about your best interests.  Sometimes, someone with an outside perspective into a relationship can keep you from getting hurt. I have a tendency to think the best of people, and give them second chances after third chances, because everything I do comes from a place of wanting to help, to fix, to make things right. Sadly, some people are more than happy to take advantage of that kindness, and they will break your heart. People you think are your friends will use you for their purposes and not think twice about it, and you will hurt about the loss far longer than they will. The people in your life who will embrace you and appreciate you for your kindness and giving far outweigh the ones who don't deserve your love. Don't let it close your heart and miss out on that because of a few bad apples. And if, you're lucky, you will have someone, or a lot of someones, warning you about these bad apples because they see what you cannot. Listen to them. The first time.

1. Be patient about finding love. You will know it when it happens. In the meanwhile, be happy being alone. People will say I wasn't patient, because I fell hard in love with my "lobster" early in my freshman year. But I never dated anyone in high school, and went away on my own, fully expecting that I would be alone the whole time I was in college. And that was an exciting proposition. Free to do what I wanted, when I wanted, without being accountable to anyone.  But then, going through life with a partner who wanted the same things, who made me smile and laugh, who brought me peace and joy, seemed even more exciting. Love will come to you, when you are ready and when you least expect it. And it will be glorious, and you will find yourself looking back 26 years later, hopefully with many more years to come, wondering how you ever got so lucky.

So, there you go. Things I would tell myself, things I want to tell the boy. And because, hello, it's my blog and I HAVE to post pics, a few from last Saturday. It was a beautiful day, and we had our family with us to celebrate not the end of his high school career, but the start of his life. Good times, y'all, good times.

Hook 'em! 

"who's the Drunk Uncle?" "HIM!"

My life, my loves. So different, very much the same. 

Love that smile! 

Out of darkness

18 years ago.

Such vivid memories of that day.  I was 8 and a half months pregnant. Another woman in my office was expecting as well, and our coworkers hosted a joint baby shower for us that day.  We were busy at work all morning, and then drove over at lunch for the party. For some reason, I didn’t listen to the radio on the way, but some people did, and that’s how we found out. Word spread like wildfire throughout the guests at the shower. Surrounded by the hope and excitement of new life, but faced with the devastation and grief of loss only three hours north on I-35. 

News was sketchy at first, but it was very quickly evident that it was no ordinary act of terrorism.  The daycare in the Murrah Building made this attack even more horrifying. The victims were true innocents. It was inconceivable that someone could do this. 168 people, children and adults, were killed that day, hundreds more injured.

My manager begged me not to watch the news coverage, for fear that it would be too much for me to handle, that it might send me into early labor. And so I avoided it, something that I am sure I would not be able to do today, in this age of twitter and instant news accessible on the radio, on TV, and delivered to the palms of our hands. I heard the stories, but I didn’t see the video until years later, when on the 10^th anniversary of the bombing I finally brought myself to watch. The passing of the years did not make the footage any easier to bear.

I first saw the memorial, with the 168 chairs in a field of grass, next to the reflecting pool, across from the Survivor Tree, when I ran the marathon for the first time in 2010. So many chairs. So many little chairs. That day was a test of will and determination for me, as I was injured before I even started the race, having fallen over a fence trying to get into the corrals. But what kept me going that day was thinking of those chairs. And the lives that they  represent.

This has been a horrible week in so many ways. Senseless attacks at the finish line at the most revered marathon in the country, a tragic explosion in small-town Texas, events that alone would shatter our peace and our sense of security. But coming within days of each other, days apart from the anniversary of the Oklahoma City killings, I think instead, these attacks and tragedies ultimately end up bringing us closer, strengthening our resolve, uniting us across Texas and across the country. It’s how we work.

18 years ago, after we left that baby shower, emotionally drained from confronting the fear and devastation wrought from the act of terrorism, my coworker went home, then went to the hospital and gave birth to her daughter.  One month later, my son was born. 

Out of darkness comes light and hope.

Oklahoma City. 9-11. Boston. West, Texas. Next week, I Run to Remember.

A Letter to My Hockey Player

I really can't believe your high school hockey career is over at last. It seems like for as long as we can remember, so much of our lives have revolved around hockey, and it doesn't seem real that all that can be coming to an end.

I'm not sure what we will do to fill the time that we used to spend at the rink. I'm not sure what I will do when I don't have to step over mountains of stinky hockey gear to get to the car. I'm not sure what I will do when I am no longer a hockey mom. For so long, my identity has been formed by two words: "hockey mom." There is so much meaning in those two words, and I will firmly believe that I have always been at the top of the hierarchy of sports moms because you chose to play hockey.

Because hockey moms have to be just a little tougher than their players. I know you don't think that's possible, that I could be tougher than you. You're the one doing the endless drills and getting pounded against the boards and missing the shots on goal by just the tiniest amount. How can I be tougher? Because I'm the one who's had to watch you be so tough for so long. I'm the one who's watched you skate until you could barely hold your head up straight, gassed and exhausted, and yet always ready to hit the ice for another shift. I'm the one who's had to sit in the stands and wince every time there's a collision on the ice, or a fight for the puck, or a dirty player who decides that he's going to charge you, or trip you, or take a stick to your head.

I don't think you will ever know how hard it is to watch that, but I have done it because I know that you come alive in a way like no other when you lace up those skates and put that smelly gear on and pull that jersey with your name on the back over your head.  Probably the most painful thing I have ever had to do is to think about whether we should let you continue to play after the second concussion. Thinking that we would have to say goodbye to that part of your life prematurely ripped my heart apart, and I’m so glad that you were able to come back and play stronger and better than ever before.

We have had so many wonderful experiences through hockey, and met some wonderful people who I know will remain friends for years to come. We’ve been able to travel to watch you play, and we have seen you grow and mature and develop both as a player and as a person. We’ve had some great seasons and great coaches and hockey families, and some years that we would just as soon forget. But the thing is that all of those experiences, the good and the bad, have together forged you into the person that you are today. So you have to take them all, and I do that gladly.  I hope you do, as well.

Mostly, when I think about you and your hockey career, I think about the determination and grit and desire you showed when you wanted to play selects. When you were not selected that first year, you embarked on a mission. You did everything you could to learn, practice, and become the best player you could be, a player worthy of wearing the DSS sweater. You took on extra ice time, you worked relentlessly, and you turned yourself into the player you wanted to be. That showed me so much about you and your character, and it remains to this day what makes me the proudest of you.

Congratulations on your hockey career to date. I know you will continue to play into adulthood and make it a part of your life.  I don’t get to be a hockey mom anymore, but I know in your heart you will always be a hockey player.

Blessed

I'm not overly religious. I joke that I was raised as a "Lapsed C&E Catholic" because of how I practice (or don't practice) my faith. But theology aside, I have been floating through the past few months here feeling decidedly blessed. There's just all kinds of goodness going on my life, professionally and personally, and just in everything. I haven't been blogging about it, but it is there anyway.

But I did want to share, just a tad of why I'm so happy lately. Seriously, I'm crazy goofy with the cracking myself up sometimes. Is my life perfect? Ha, absolutely not. My house is a trainwreck and there may be people getting dressed in the den because that's where the clean laundry is stacked up. But there is too much to do to really bother with simple things like chores, right?? That's my story and I'm sticking to it.. But I digress.

You know I'm going to do this with photos, right? Because, duh.

My love, my life. Smiling and happy. 

With my sweet baboo at the baseball game. What more do I need in life? 

The day we shot a Texas Rangers commercial. 18 different kinds of awesome!

These two. My mind-sharing confidants. Keep me sane. 

The FIGJAM crew after Cowtown. Good friends to help me through a rough day. 

Started my new job last month. It's a great place with a bright future. 

And it has a beautiful campus, just a short drive from home. 

Best day ever. Reaching, pushing, smashing through limits. 

Celebrating Mary's birthday race at Grasslands. In front of port-a-potties. Of course. 

Flat on my #bottom after a little slide in the mud. And having the time of my life!

So much fun with Katie on her first half. Lightning, thunder, hail, mud be damned! 

We bring the noise. And the jingle. FIGJAM cheer squad!

Dressy brunch. Because we can. 

Almost 18. Headed to my alma mater in a few months. Talented, smart & handsome. 

My gamer guy. Super-sharp, sweet, and growing like a weed. Obsessed with all things 80s. 

So, on this Easter afternoon, after sharing a delicious ham dinner with my little family, I  truly am thankful for all that I have. I don't express it often enough, but I am. And as I contemplate whether I should head out for a humid run, saddle up Rev and go for a ride, or hang out on the couch with my sweetie watching MLB Network, I think that if these are my toughest choices this week, well, I guess I'm doing pretty good!

What are YOU thankful for? What is blessing your life lately?

Friday Five: The New Beginnings Edition

Yeah, I know. What can I say, life got a little crazy there, and blogging took a back seat. It's all good, though. Good things are afoot, and I'm feeling more centered and focused and right with the world than I have been in a long time. So, without getting too verbose, here's a Friday Five:

1.  I start a new job next week.  It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. Being the new kid, even though the tasks I'll be doing are old hat, is intimidating. Will any of the cool kids let me each lunch with them? Do I really have to dress like a human after three years of working from home in running clothes or PJs and bare feet? What is this with all the cars on the road at the same time, creating traffic? hmmmm... did I really think this through??? Yeah, I did. And it's going to be good, for me, for the family. I can just tell, by the way it all came together.  When things are meant to be, the universe usually helps you out. You just have to just be ready and willing to do your part, see the opportunity, grab on to it and make it happen.

Let's disregard entirely that the senior in the senior pics does not actually drive this car... #details

2.  The boy. He's winding down senior year. About 3 months left to go. Final decisions are being made about college, dorms, majors. It's exciting - there's that word again, get used to it - and yet again, terrifying. I think about when I was his age, ready to embark on the first day of the rest of my life. Is he ready? I watch him lose anything that isn't physically connected to his body and forget simple things that a 17-year-old should be able to remember and wonder, "will he survive?"  And then I think, yeah, he will. It might not be easy, but it will be an adventure. As it should be. Did I prepare him to make the right choices, do the right things when faced with decisions, big and small? I think so. I like to think so. Will it always be smooth sailing? No, not really. But that's life, and it's all right in front of him, and how awesome for him to be so ready to embark on this roller coaster. And I get to watch. And re-live it through him, vicariously.  And know that in the end, he is still my baby boy.

One more to the most kick-ass medal collection in town. 

3.  Cowtown is this weekend. Race weekend. Yay! This will be my fifth year to run since they started the star medals in 2009.  I have three full medals and one half so far, and will, gods willing and the creek don't rise, collect my second half medal on Sunday morning. There is a whole slew of Frunners either running or cheering, per usual, so the race itself is secondary. It's about the camaraderie, about having a good time, pushing myself a little more than I would otherwise, and soaking in the day.  My training has been hit or miss this cycle - had a little hiccup after the holidays fighting the Plague, but I think I rallied enough in the last few weeks so that I don't feel like I'll die at mile 11.  I had a blast running a 15k two weeks ago, and even though I'm fighting a sinus infection and smoker's cough right now, I am sure that I will be able to finish. Are my paces where I want them to be? No, not even close. Am I fretting over it? No, not even close.  I've said for months that my fitness goals for this spring and summer, while I deal with my baby bird flying the coop, have been to be able to complete a half or a 50-mile ride and not die. Or want to die. And I can do that. So it will be good. And fun. Count on it!

Yeah, we will do this after the tri in a couple of weeks. It's how we roll. #WGGS 

4.  Apparently, I have another triathlon in two weeks.... Okay.... Strategy for this is to backstroke the hell outta the swim, ride on INFLATED tires (rookie mistake from last summer) and then just run it in when I get to that point.  I've not trained like I wanted to for this. Bottom line. It's the truth. But again, I know I can do this. I will spend the next two weeks in the pool if it kills me, and I may not be able to use my pedals, but I will survive.  This is all about completing. I'm ok with that. It will give my peeps a chance to hang out and chill while the RDs bring the course down behind me and wait for me to come in. A couple of other friends are making their tri-debut, so it'll be great to be there for them and reassure them that they will NOT be the last ones to finish! What can I say? I'm a giver!!

Mmmm... Baseball. 

Gonna miss this big meatball. 

5. Lastly, but not least by any stretch, today is a GREAT day for Surprises! Yes, I'm back on baseball. I love baseball for so many reasons, but one of the top ones is that every new season is filled with possibilities. Everyone has a chance to win it all on the first day of the season. So fresh and new. It's exhilarating and it's a metaphor for life, I truly believe that. My team has changed a lot, my favorite player is wearing a new uni (MAJOR SADS) but I'm on board.  Today is the first day of spring training games after a couple of intra-squad games. It's exciting. Spring is here. New beginnings. Play ball, y'all!