Don’t Wanna Not Gonna

A teacher recently described our youngest as “politely defiant”.  I laughed because while he and I have had some pretty epic fights, they only happen when I force him to do an assignment he *really* doesn’t want to do. If someone simply asks him or gently suggests/encourages, he just….won’t. Very quietly. And yes, even politely. If he don’t wanna, he’s not gonna.

But lately, he’s been doing assignments, whether he wants to or not. Hubby explained to him that if he wants to attend the charter high school that he likes, he has to prove NOW that he can work hard. (Assuming, of course, that he even gets drawn in the lottery. But that’s irrelevant to the lesson here.) We’ve had the discussion that even with activities/jobs/projects/classes he LOVES, there will be some element that he doesn’t like. But ultimately, to do what you like, you also have to do those things you don’t. And although it’s only been a couple of weeks, he’s proving he can spur HIMSELF to do the less than fun tasks.

I’ve written two whole paragraphs about lessons we’re trying to teach our youngest. And this post is not ACTUALLY about him.

I’ve been to the gym like…once…in the past two weeks. The temperatures are dropping. It’s dark when we leave home for work. It’s dark when we leave work for home. It’s been rainy. I don’t want to get up early. I don’t want to get in a pool when it’s dark and 30 degrees outside. I don’t want to move after work. I want to lay on the couch, sleep and eat bread & cheese and drink hot chocolate when I do wake up. I am a summer girl through and through. Every year I try not to complain about winter. But I hate it. I am incredibly envious of animals that hibernate through these dark bitter months. Seriously.

Earlier this week I turned off my alarm and slept WAY late. I made it to work on time but it was a rushed morning. I was lamenting that I “just need to find my motivation again.” And yes, that would be nice. But if I rely on finicky motivation, then when I don’t wanna, I’m not gonna. And I’m *really* good about rationalizing why that’s okay.

Turns out that training through the winter is the element of triathlon that I don’t like but I just need to do anyway. If I really want to do well next spring/summer, I have to emerge from my carb filled blanket cocoon even if I don’t have a friend waiting (That turns the training session into a non-negotiable event & I’ll go no matter how little motivation I feel). I think they call it drive. Or grit. Thankfully it’s something that can be developed.

Some lessons are easier to preach than practice.

I’m not quite dead

It hasn’t quite been two months. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone on radio silence for longer. Last post was right before school started. I’m only taking six hours this semester. Which doesn’t sound like a lot.

I also took a promotion at work. Yay! The pay raise kicks in this paycheck. But they haven’t refilled my position so I’m currently doing a little of both jobs and working 43-45 hours a week. Which doesn’t sound like a lot.

I’m still doing Krav Maga (have I mentioned that here? Dunno. It’s cool.) I try to be there 5 hours a week but usually only manage 2-3. Which doesn’t sound like a lot.

None of it sounds like much until you add it up. And even then I tend to think it still shouldn’t be overwhelming. Except my top priority is still being wife and mom. Or at least it should be. I’m not so sure I always live that.

I’m just tired right now. I’m beginning to think that the season contributes greatly to these “health issues” or perhaps lowers my tolerance? I don’t know. I just know last year it was worse during winter and as the temps drop, I find my energy levels dropping significantly as well and nausea increasing. I know it doesn’t make sense.

I love every element of my life. Except statistics class. I don’t love that but it’s necessary and I love that I have the opportunity to take classes – even the ones I don’t love. Anyway. Life elements. Love them. But the combination is making me tired right now. Tired. Weary. Mentally struggling. But not dead. Which means I’ll be just fine.

Yeah. So.

Seems I spoke too soon about sleeping well. Because last night? Sucked.  The pillows felt like bags on concrete. The mattress was replaced with a piece of plywood. The covers kept getting tangled around me. Every little sound bothered me. And this morning I feel like I’ve been hit by a train carrying the flu. My entire body hurts. My head…yow. I can’t breathe or stop sneezing. Even my eyeballs ache. I almost starting crying walking down the street to my office this morning.

In short, it’s pathetic and sad and sucky. Normally I’d dump several cups of coffee in my system but I’ve been off caffeine and sugar since Monday. I thought I was past the worst of withdrawals. I felt GREAT yesterday. And I have to feel better quickly. Tomorrow is the 5k. We pick up our packets this afternoon. But I don’t plan to do much more than lay on the couch & watch episodes of The Cape tonight so it should be fine.

Insert title here

I wish I could remember any of the thoughts that have drifted through my head but alas, they have been obscured by the white noise that is buzzing in my brain. It’s like a station on an old tv or a radio dial that isn’t tuned in quite right…static-y and snow-y and crackle-y…that’s the state of my brain. I don’t know that this qualifies as a summer cold but it sucks nonetheless. So instead of continuing to pathetically string together more than a couple of coherent sentences, I leave you with this poem. I love it and everything it says.

The Difference He Made

By Randy Poole*

Amidst the morning mist of the swift returning tide
I set out on my daily run, my walkman on my side.
Lost within my private world apart from cares and woes
I ran along the moistened shore, the sand between my toes.

In the distance, I saw a boy, as busy as can be.
He was running, stooping, picking up, and tossing in the sea.
Just what he threw, I couldn’t tell, I looked as I drew near.
It seemed to be a rock or shell—as I approached him I could hear:

“Back you go, where you belong.  You’re safe now hurry home.
Your family’s waiting for you little starfish, hurry on!”
It seemed the evening tide had washed the starfish on the shore,
And the swift receding water left a thousand there or more.

And this self-appointed savior, was trying one-by-one
To toss them back into the sea, against the racing sun.
I saw his plight was hopeless, that most of them would die.
I called out from my private world, “Hey Kid, why even try?”

“Must be at least a thousand here, strewn along the beach,
And even if you had the time, most you’ll never reach.
You really think it makes a difference, to waste your time this way?”
And then I paused and waited, just to hear what he would say.

He stooped and took another, and looked me in the eye.
“It makes a difference to this one sir, this starfish will not die!”
With that, he tossed the little life, back where there was hope.
He stooped to take another.  I could tell this was no joke.

The words that he spoke to me cut like a surgeon’s knife.
Where I saw only numbers, he saw only life.
He didn’t see the multitude of starfish on the sand.
He only saw the little life he held there in his hand.

He didn’t stop to argue, to prove that he was right.
He just kept tossing starfish in the sea with all his might.
So I too stooped, and I picked up, and I tossed into the sea,
And I thought, just what a difference, that this boy has made in me.

*I can neither confirm nor deny the original source of this poem but have never seen it credited to anyone else.

snuffleupagus on speed

Friday morning just after 9:00am I updated my Facebook status to “…isn’t feeling well but getting sick isn’t an option”.  So…yeah…as you can imagine things went downhill quickly from there. I got home only to be ordered to the couch by Jon and that’s where I spent every possible moment that didn’t require me to make an attempt to be human and/or a responsible adult. By Tuesday the achiness and bone crushing exhaustion had pretty much passed leaving behind an overproductive snot gland or something. Oxygen has become a coveted element. Breathing is no longer a natural process, it’s more a series of desperate gasps for air. And yet somehow in the midst of all of this, my brain has kicked into overdrive. My formerly barren “posts ideas” document is now two pages long.  I signed up to submit 3 (THREE) articles to Associated Content (all due Friday so let’s hope this burst lasts a few days). I’m blaming…crediting…the lack of sleep right now.  I have ample time to stare at the ceiling and brainstorm while trying to find a position that allows me to sleep without drowning.  Of course Jon brought home Ny*quil and since a mere whiff of that stuff knocks me out for an approximate work day, the idea producing hours are about to come to crashing halt. In the meantime, I should have enough notes to keep this little blog afloat for a few more months and actually post more than once a week. Now let’s just cross our fingers that those ideas still sound good when I’m not in a state of snot and insomnia induced delerium.

Welcome to my new home

Hi! Welcome to my new home. I’m still getting things set up but overall I think I’m liking it here.

There are a few posts brewing that occurred to me while exploring a new trail today. However, I can’t seem to translate the general thoughts into coherent, interesting sentences. Until I can do the ideas justice, they will remain in the “blog fodder” folder while I gnaw on my lip in frustration. See, there’s one big downfall to this whole online thing. I never seem to have a pen within reach to abuse. Pen? Paper? That’s what Notepad is for, right?

I’ll have Weekly Winners up tomorrow and will work on lifting the writer’s block.

I think I’ll go work on categorizing the archives. That at least takes a bare minimum of brain power.