So.....I'm not a camper

Traumatized at the age of eleven, I swore to never go camping again. Of course I really didn’t have much authority in that area being a kid and all. It was really up to my parents. My family enjoyed camping. Went every year while I was a kid. Then the constant complaining finally took its toll and my parents agreed to put the tent up in the rafters of the garage and leave it there, never to be retrieved again. I guess I should feel bad, but I didn’t. Not at the time anyway. I should have. It was a family affair, our camping trips. We’d all go up to this one lake resort and tent camp. Once in a while my parents would splurge for a cabin with no electricity. I hardly saw the difference.

But back to my moment of trauma. As I stated, I was eleven at the time. We had gone camping on plenty of occasions up until that point and I really didn’t complain. Everyone in our family would go. Grandparents, uncles, cousins, the whole shebang and I had fun for the most part. Then something changed. I started noticing boys…..and the lack of electrical outlets for my hair dryer and curling iron out in the woods. I wish I could say I wasn’t so superficial back then, but I can’t. That I was still a little kid who didn't think of boys and kissing but still played with her Barbies and ran around in circles to get dizzy for fun, but no. I was eleven after all. Hormones start kicking in, body starts changing and you have no idea why that boy is a little less gross. You're a kid who suddenly thinks you're one step away from adulthood. You remember, you’re not quite a teenager but you can see it on the horizon and the boy who once annoyed you is the one you constantly sneak awkward glances at because you can’t quite figure out what changed to make him not so annoying anymore. You stop playing with toys and start playing with your hair. You experiment with makeup and your appearance becomes a big deal. I mean you wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out at the mall on the weekend without looking the best you possibly could, would you? Not anymore. So imagine my horror when I stopped loathing boys and started noticing they were around.....and they were. As a kid, I had one of those short, pixie haircuts thanks to a mother who didn’t want to deal with the maintenance of long hair (it’s no wonder I keep my hair long now) but add that to the fact that I was stick thin, I was easily mistaken for a boy if I didn’t do myself up. So here we are. At the lake with the family and next thing we know, there is another family renting some cabins a little ways down and who is with them? Their 12 year old son. Their very cute 12 year old son and me and my cousin are the only kids around in his age group. My “not washed in 2 days” hair was under an LA Dodgers baseball cap that was slightly too big for my head. I was wearing some baggy shorts, tube socks, and a Garfield t-shirt (all hail Garfield). The master of 80s fashion, I looked like one of the nerds in the Revenge of the Nerds movie. Needless to say, I wasn’t looking my best and I have a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t realize at first that I was a girl. Of course that could be because he actually said that. Anyway, not something a girl wants to hear and it was after that trip that I decided camping wasn’t for me. Unless of course there was electricity, hot water, and a TV.

Over the years, that thought hasn’t changed much. I still am not a fan of camping, but I’ve been married for almost 26 years now so my husband has already seen me at my worst. Who knows? Maybe one day I might actually go again. Although I doubt it will be in a tent. Maybe a hotel……

So.....I've given birth

Not once, but twice. The first pregnancy I went au natural…not by choice really. I was induced and by the time the pain became unbearable (I was actually asked twice by the nursing staff to please quit screaming as I was scaring the other mothers) I was far too dilated to be given anything. I was much smarter with my second pregnancy and asked for drugs immediately upon arrival at the hospital. Of course first I had to check in.

I don’t care what anyone says, you remember the pain. You may not recall how long it lasted or the actual intensity of it, but you don’t completely forget it either. I had always considered myself a high tolerance type of individual. Allergic to most pain medications, I’ve grown to be able to handle pain pretty well. Not to say I still don’t cry out when I stub my toe on our living room coffee table. That just hurts.

I don’t recall how long I was in labor with either of my kids. I have pretty much blocked out most of that. So has my husband, but he has his own reasons for wanting to forget it all. I do remember the delivery and recall being asked if I would permit resident doctors to observe. I said yes, or something along the lines of a yes. I don’t think I was able to speak actual words at that point. Honestly, they could have brought in the entire hospital staff with camcorders and I wouldn’t have cared. I just wanted the whole thing to be over.

After I delivered our daughter, the nurse tried to hand her to me. I remember shaking my head no and then immediately thought they were probably scrutinizing me and thinking I was the world’s worst mother. It’s not that I didn’t want to hold my baby. The problem was my adrenaline kicked in so hard that I was shaking uncontrollably. Not just slight shaking either. My body jerked and twitched so bad that I’m sure I looked like I was convulsing. Motion sickness started to set in. Not quite the bonding moment you picture in your head after giving birth. It wasn’t any better with our son and I had to bypass holding him right away as well. Luckily the nurse that time noticed my inability to hold myself still and didn’t ask, but rather cleaned up our son and handed him to my husband.

Both our kids are in their 20s now. I still can remember the moment they came into this world. I unfortunately also remember the “rough seas” like shaking afterwards and get a little nauseated. But it was worth it. All of it. Even the parts that I have to censor in my mind because language like that is not suitable for children or adults. They are great kids. Neither are drug addicts, alcoholics, and only occasionally ask for money. I say we did pretty well.

So.....I hit a squirrel once

I was driving to work one day when a squirrel ran out into the road. I swear I didn’t see it until it was too late. I felt it as my tire went over its tiny little body. Nausea hit. I felt sick. I glanced in my rearview and saw it lying in the road. It didn’t move. I slowed down but didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I was going to be late. Waves of sadness rolled over me and then the tears started rolling.

I’d never hit an animal before. Bugs had committed suicide on my windshield many times, but I’d never hit an animal. It was my first time. Hopefully my last. I can’t even stand to see an animal’s body on the side of the road after being hit by someone else. I have to look away and close my eyes. Not the best thing to do when you are driving. I mourned that poor squirrel and his squirrel family all day. Co-workers, noticing my obvious distress, didn’t quite seem to understand why I was so upset. After I told them the tragedy of that mornings events while the tears were streaming down my face, I got more than a few strange looks and a couple of pity back pats before everyone scattered and vowed to give me my space for the day while whispering quietly to each other as they left the room. Alone in my fortress of despair, I couldn’t shake the immense sadness I felt. I killed a squirrel. Vehicular homicide! I thought about his family and imagined what it would be like for his wife and kids when he didn’t return home (I don't actually know if it was a male, I'm just assuming). What would they do? Would they would go out looking for him and stumble across his lifeless body lying in the street? Would they know he was murdered? Left to die cold and alone? Would they seek the one who destroyed their family, vowing to get revenge? Should I be concerned when I see squirrels in my yard?

These are questions I ask myself often. They come onto my property. They don’t hide. I see them. They watch my house. They know what I did. The guilt is great, but I don’t act. It’s their move…….

So.....I'm a runner

First off, let me just say I am not one of those totally dedicated marathon runners or anything like that. I don't like to drive 26 miles let alone attempt to run it. It started after I quit smoking (more on that later). I decided I needed to get into shape since the one I had wasn't working for me. Not that I'm a big girl. Not even close. I'm about 5'2" tall and weight around 104 lbs as long as I keep all my clothes on and happen to be holding a stack of books. I'm what you would call naturally thin....or skinny, stick figured, bean poled as the kids I went to school with would say. But being small does not immune you from gravity. Like the arm jiggle that occurs when you wave to people. Or the jello like motion of your upper legs while you walk. It still happens regardless of your size. I wish I would have listened back when I was young about how you need to take care of your body for when you get older. Had they just shown a picture of what your body would look like at 45 compared to 17, I might have been more diligent in those efforts. I added some light weight lifting on my non-run days to help control the amount of movement my body does without my consent. Anyway, since I didn't want to pay a gym membership because I knew I'd go non-stop for a solid week, congratulate myself on being dedicated, and then quit, I thought running might suit me. No monthly membership fee and I have an excuse to buy shoes. I know. Most women who have a love of shoes go right to the ankle breaker section, but not me. One, I still have to shop in the kids section and they don't exactly make stilettos for children, and two, I can't wear those. I mean I can. I just shouldn't. Any type of walking or standing while wearing them and I could seriously injure myself. When it comes to adorning my feet, boots and tennis shoes are my best friends. I love boots! But what I love even more than those are Converse. I have about 30 pair now. And since I still wear kids sizes, I get them for cheap! Or at least cheaper. My husband thinks I need help. I just think I need a bigger place to put them. Naturally I don't wear converse when I run. Although I do secretly think I would look pretty BA running on the trails in my Batmans, but I have to buy actual running shoes for that. And of course they tell you that one pair isn't enough so I make sure to get a few. So, yea, I run. Well, jog really. Saying you run kind of gives the impression that you're fast and I'm not. I mean I'm faster than walkers, but just barely. I've been doing it for about 4-5 years now and do about 3.5 miles every other day. Seems to be working. I'm able to run that distance without stopping....at least not a whole lot.

One thing I realized as I ventured into the world of being able to out distance a stalker, is that just because you are naturally thin, does not mean you are healthy. Of course smoking didn't do me any favors there. I quit about 6 years ago. I was lucky. It was very easy for me. That time. The other 18 times wasn't. I was never a real heavy smoker fortunately. About 1/2 pack a day was my usual thing, and I could go a day or two without a cigarette. I'd done it numerous times. One day though I skipped a day, then another, then another, and somehow kind of forgot I was a smoker. I know! How does one forget they smoke? I'm not sure, but somehow I did. When I finally realized I hadn't had a cigarette in about 2 weeks, I decided to just roll with it. They aren't kidding when they say you will feel different. I could take deep breaths, I could smell everything (that wasn't always a positive by the way), food tasted different......and I suffered from huge bouts of vertigo. I was really concerned after I googled my symptoms and had pretty much determined that it was too late. I was going to die. I had some horrible disease or tumor or something like that. They put the warning on the sides of the packs for a reason. I immediately made an appointment with my doctor and started rehearsing what I would tell my family. Turns out all that worrying was for nothing. My brain was just finally getting the oxygen it always needed to function properly.

It was about a year after I quit that I decided to look into ways to get fit and found myself with a new pair of running shoes and a desire to be able to outrun the slow people in the event of a zombie apocalypse. If anyone ever tells you that it feels great to run, they are lying. I know because those same people lied to me. Oh I feel fabulous after. I mean I finished! It's over for the day! But while I'm running? No. It's not like those promotional pictures they show you in ads for shoes or running clothes. You know the ones. Where the women look all cute and perfect in their running attire and they are smiling like it's the best thing ever. I'm not saying that there aren't people like that. I've just never seen them. But I guess they wouldn't sell their merchandise if they showed the reality. A woman all sweaty, red faced, and looking as if she's one step away from crawling to her destination or just taking a nap in the middle of the sidewalk. But it's something I can do to help keep myself in shape and I don't need any fancy equipment to do it. I usually run on my lunch break. I work close to a park that is by the river. Very beautiful and scenic. Not that I really notice to be honest. I'm more focused on how far I've run and calculating if I will be done soon. That's pretty much my entire thought process the whole time. I do see a lot of other runners when I'm out and give them the "hey you're a runner too" hand wave. That's something I found weird my first few times out. I started with the Couch to 5K running app (something I highly recommend for beginners....no I don't get paid to promote it. I wish) and people would do a type of hand wave/salute/thumbs up kind of thing as we passed each other. After this happened a few times, I realized it's a solidarity thing. A kind of encouragement nod. You know, good job! Go you! Like a private club  moment. Not the, "yea, I recognize you from that youtube video where you were drunk at your best friends wedding and vomited all over the dance floor while exposing yourself to all of their friends and family" gesture I thought it was. Not that anything like that actually happened.

So, yea, I'm a runner. I actually do enjoy it when I'm not being chased by dogs or getting bugs in my eyes....or worse yet, my mouth. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel healthy. It makes my body jiggle just a little bit less than it did before.

So.....this is my family

Ok. So I figured if I'm going to write about my life, I should tell you a little about my family. As I mentioned in my previous post, I am married and have been for the last 26 years to a man who can handle me at my worst and my worstest. I don't really have a best so I figured I'd skip that. As a product of our undying need to be with someone just as difficult and stubborn as the other, we had 2 beautiful children. A son, who at the age of 24 is still pursuing his dream of being in a band....or as I like to call it, barely employed. Oh, he has a job. He's not living in our basement or anything like that, yet. But unfortunately he has decided that you are never too old to give up your dream so I have already started getting a guest room ready for his inevitable move back home. And then there is our daughter, 26, who also decided that college was something that only people who want a good job and don't want to live paycheck to paycheck do. She works a seasonal job in a photography processing studio and also is a promotions model. Not sure what a promotions model is? Well, basically you get hired to work promotion events like wine and beer tastings at stores like Total Wine and things like that. It can be pretty decent money actually and we had visited her at one of her "gigs" as she calls them. One thing I learned, they prefer you only have ONE sample of beer. Gets a little awkward when you are trying to hand the store manager your keys. Unfortunately the promotional model career arena isn't exactly lucrative. Which is why I'm still paying her car insurance.

As far as the rest of the family, my husband doesn't really talk to his....lucky guy. Oh he knows where they are and they acknowledge each other in public and everything, they just aren't close. My family dynamic didn't make much sense to him when they all met. Mostly because we like to be in the same room together and he found that baffling. I have a mom and dad, of course, that's how I came to be here. They are still married after 46 years together. I have one half brother who lives in another state(we will just refer to him as HB). My dad was married very briefly when he was right out of high school. It ended when she became pregnant a second time.......while he was away at boot camp. My half brother wasn't raised with us so we didn't know him very well. We've had little contact over the years and have made attempts to be closer, but he also doesn't get our family dynamic, in the sense that we all hate his wife and he doesn't. But that's another story entirely.

I have 2 brothers and a sister from the union of my parents. I am the oldest out of that group. I was also by far the most rebellious, something that has never gone completely away. My youngest brother (we'll refer to him at YB) is getting ready to move to Washington DC.....on purpose. He is a political science major (boooooring) and has just gotten accepted to go to school there to get his masters. He's all excited. I'm slightly less so. Not just because I can't fathom why anyone would want to talk politics for a living, but because we are close. Even though I am the oldest and he is the youngest and there is 15 years separating us, we are pretty much the closest (don't tell my sister that). I think it's because I helped take care of him while my parents both worked. Also because when we get together, we have the combined mentality of a 16 year old. We tend to act a bit immature. We bring out the kid in each other. Now he's moving away and leaving me here by myself. Well, not entirely by myself. My parents still live here and of course my children (it's harder to ask for money when you live far away), but he was the only sibling left here. My other brother (OB) and my sister live in Washington State, but on the other side from me. Like, a good 4 hour drive away. Which, yes, I know, that isn't that far, but if you've ever driven across Washington State then you know it's one of the most boring drives you can ever make, so really 4 hours is more like a non-scenic 14 hours. At least that's how it feels. Anyway, speaking of my other siblings, there is my sister who is an attorney and my OB who has a job title I don't know but apparently you make a lot of money if you are one. He was the lazy kid and now the total responsible one who makes the most money. Don't get me wrong, we are all responsible people who make a decent living. He's just really good at it. Go figure.

Well I think I'll leave you with this for now. I'm sure I'll have plenty of other not so interesting things to say. Until then.......

So....this is me.

I'm not sure why I started this blog since I already have a perfectly good one that nobody reads but I was bored, and at work, so I figured why not? It's basically dedicated to the completely mundane and uninteresting life I live. Or at least that's what I think I'm going to do with it.

Well, let's see, I am a 45 (soon to be 46) year old married mother of two. Someone actually had the audacity to use the term "middle aged" to me the other day. I politely, while snarling, told them that I am not anywhere near 50 yet and they proceeded to ask how many 100 year old people I know. Let's just say there is a certain someone who will NOT be getting a Christmas card from me this year. Not that they got one before. I don't send actual cards. I mean, I think about sending cards, but then I'd have to buy cards. And then there is the whole going to the post office thing and standing in line. Ugh. The holidays are painful enough. Anyway, they will not be receiving the thought of me sending a Christmas card this year and since it's the thought that actually counts, they are really missing out.

I live in Washington State (and yes, I have to add the state part, otherwise everyone asks me how far from the White House I live) but was born in California. My family moved here when I was 6 so I don't consider myself a Cali girl and I highly doubt any actual Cali girls would consider me one either. I am married to the father of both of my children......*gasp*.....it actually happens, and we have been semi happily married on a fairly regular basis for 26 years. We have two children, a son who is 24 and a daughter who is 26. I really scored on that one. One of each! After our son was born I retired from child bearing until such a time that a new sex was discovered. It wasn't so I'm safe. So is the hospital. Handling pain wasn't one of my strong suits then. They really frown on it when you scream so loudly that the nurses continuously have to come into your room and ask you to stop because you are scaring the other mothers. I probably would have been able to stop, but then the actual labor started, so......

I work in Records Management which is just as exciting as it sounds and have been in that field for more years than I care to count. Watching paint dry or counting spots on a ceiling would have been a more exciting career choice but I couldn't find any openings for those. Of course as I child what I really wanted to be was a rock star, but since I can't sing or play a single musical instrument, that didn't really work out for me. I can air guitar....but even then I keep screwing up the chords so I finally gave up on that dream and decided to leave it to the professionals. Little did I know that the screaming I did while delivering my children would have sounded excellent with some good background music. I'm pretty sure I even said some words. I could have made a fortune today.

Anyway, that's about it for now. I don't really have a plan for this blog. Probably just write whatever comes to mind I guess, tidbits about the life I lead (or lack thereof), maybe talk about my family...at least until they tell me not to. We do have an attorney in the family so we will see.....