I know I’ve mentioned it before, but one thing I’m really proud of in my own divorce is the way my ex and I have handled any issues with the girls, especially regarding how we discuss the girlfriend/boyfriend in each of our lives.  My ex’s girlfriend is actively involved in both girls lives. Has it been weird?  Yeah, of course.  Am I threatened by her? No.  She fills a role in their life, and right now that role is fun for all of them and full of exciting and new things.  She doesn’t have kids of her own, and is able to focus on mine.  Sometimes that is weird for me.  That’s the best word I can think of for it.  At the end of the day, though, I trust my ex’s judgment.  I know he will put good people around the kids we had together.  And I’m pretty sure he feels the same way about me. 

So yes, I know that we are more on the “fantasy” side of divorced parents sharing custody of their kids.  I get it.  I get that most divorces and custody arrangements are ugly and drawn out for years.  The kids pay the price, and so does everyone touched by that kind of poison.  I felt so grateful I had dodged that particular bullet, though I’m peppered straight through with many other kinds of ammunition.

What I didn’t consider was how much damage and anger my boyfriend’s soon-to-be legal ex-wife was going to cause. 

I mean, people are reasonable, right?  Both parents love their children, and want what’s best for them, and frankly, we can say that what’s best for a child is an amorphous thing, but really, it normally isn’t that hard to figure out what hurts them less and how to behave around them.  Even if I felt ill will toward my ex’s girlfriend, and I do not - I would NEVER (capitalization necessary) discuss that in front of my children, or tell them bad things about her, or try to turn them against her.  My children have enough strife in their life without worrying about how their mom feels about their dad’s girlfriend. 

Unfortunately Running Boy’s ex doesn’t feel that way. 

Much as I’d love to lay her open right here, it won’t do any good.  It might actually do some harm.  So I’m going to keep this general.  I’m not allowed to send this directly to her, so I’m just going to write it here and hope that the universe, God, or whatever she believes in will give her some peace so she can in turn give it back to her children.

Dear ___:

I know we’ve never officially met.  That’s been partly due to the fact that neither of us has any desire to meet, but also because I am afraid to meet you.  Some days I harbor such intense anger and disbelief surrounding you that I fear a face to face meeting would result in all sorts of words coming out from behind my filter, and we all know that’s not going to be good.  But I’m going to put that aside for a minute and introduce myself.

Hi.  I’m the girlfriend of your ex-husband.  I’ve been around for quite a while and I am not going anywhere.  I have two children of my own; I believe you’ve heard lots about them from your own two children.  I just have a couple of things to remind you of, as well as a couple of things to ask of you.  If you can do these things, we’ll get along just fine in the future.

First, the reminder parts. 

You left him.  YOU left.  You chose to end it.  When you end things, you don’t get to dictate the future.  You don’t get to say, “I don’t love you anymore and I want out” and still try to set rules about who he can date, when, and how.  Additionally, communication is an amazing thing.  Say what you want and say what you mean and you might get better results.  Waiting until court to throw a bunch of crap out into the air doesn’t help anyone.  If you have concerns about him, or me, or our life together - speak up.  I know it’s hard and weird but it’s necessary. 

Second reminder.  YOU left.  I realize that sounds like the first, but in this case, I mean it in a different manner.  You wanted out.  You got out.  But maliciously attempting to destroy his life (and I still don’t get where all your anger comes from, but I’m guessing you don’t either - in that case, therapy is a real life-saver) isn’t helping and it’s hurting his kids.  The amount of money the two of you are spending in legal fees equals a Harvard education for at least one of your two kids.  Keep it up and I’m sure we can get another 4 years of ivy league paid out in legal fees.  Is it best for your kids to be attending community college because you blew through every ounce of money you once had fighting over 40% custody versus 60%?  Or a couch that was worth $1000 10 years ago?  Trust me.  It isn’t worth it. 

Oh, I know I sound a bit self-righteous.  I made many, many mistakes in my marriage and in the ensuing aftermath.  But that’s my crap and I have to live with myself every day for it.  However, I never attempted to make my ex pay or give me things that weren’t mine to take, WHETHER I WAS LEGALLY ENTITLED TO OR NOT.  I resent you trying to ruin him in your need for the almighty dollar.  I resent you continuing your path knowing full well there is no good end result for yourself, yet you’re going to see it through to the bitter end.  Most of all,  I resent you dragging two innocent children into your issues, and I resent having to deal with you.  I’ve earned some peace in my life, whether you believe me or not.  And nothing about the way you act is peaceful, whole, or healthy. 

My requests: 

Please, no matter how you feel about me - leave me out of your discussions with your children.  I made the dire miscalculation to take your 4 year old daughter out to have a manicure with me.  It’s something my kids have always enjoyed doing with me and I felt like she needed a little extra attention.  Apparently, in your words:  “____(me) is not your mother and she shouldn’t be doing your nails.”  Interesting that nail polish makes you a mom.  Apparently nail polish is the domain of the mother, but making sure your 4 year old’s birthday is recognized (in your words, what kid needs a party every year???), is the domain of girlfriends and other family and friends.  How fun it must have been for your ex and my boyfriend to hear his daughter say that I am not supposed to be caring for her in any way or showing her love or attention.  Are you that insecure that you can’t allow me to do anything nice for your children?  The next time your son runs a high fever, should I withhold a cool washcloth for his forehead because again, that is a “mother’s job”?  God forbid I step on your toes by reading a story, sharing a hug or fixing popcorn for your children.  If you can’t change this, then please provide me a numbered or bulleted list of all the items that fall to the “real” mother so I can avoid those in the future. 

Here’s the deal - when we leave husbands, we also accept the fact that we are not going to be with our kids 100% of the time.  And frankly, if someone is around my girls when they are sick or tired or just feeling lonely and can provide them some solace, a washcloth, or a band-aid, I’m completely okay with it.  Why can’t you be?  Can you truly grow up and let go?  Saying mean things about me or making your little girl feel strange about allowing me in her life really isn’t helpful to anyone, even if it makes you feel better when you do it. 

My part of the deal is that I will not try to replace you as their mother.  I couldn’t even if I wanted to.  My ex’s girlfriend won’t replace me either.  More people to love children is never a bad thing.  Remove your head from your ass and take a hard look at where you are directing your misery.  Because yes, it’s bugging your ex and it’s bugging the crap out of me.  However, it’s doing worse than bugging your children.  You are hurting them, as surely as you wouldn’t let them play in traffic or eat dirt or leave dirty needles around your apartment. 

And I mean this from one mother to another:  honey, it would help all of us if you’d stop worrying so much about everyone else and start looking at your own parenting skills.  When your daughter runs a fever and has trouble breathing or is acting out of it, suck it up and take her to the doctor instead of leaving it for your ex to deal with.  Stop throwing stones at other people who are just trying to help and spend some time looking into the roots of your own miserable behavior.  Take the time you have with your kids and LOVE them.  Focus on them, not on all the other things you aren’t “getting” or “losing”. 

Because, as I’ve told your ex many times over now . . . if you wanted all of those things, all you had to do was stay married to him. 

Divorce requires so many sacrifices. Many of them you don’t even realize until you stumble blindly into that wall.  Part of your realization is going to be that your ex is happier now.  His life has moved forward.  Your kids are surviving and doing well, even if you make poor decisions sometimes. 

Frankly, if the worst thing your kids have to experience is another woman who loves and cares about them, your kids are pretty lucky.  Just as mine are lucky to have someone to love them when I’m not around, and do things like paint their nails or braid their hair. 

xoxoxo,

The ex’s girlfriend

This working thing has really been killing my bloguctivity, but yes, I’m still here. 

Many things have happened since I last confessed my sins.  In no particular order of importance . . .

Running:  One more race and I’m officially done until January.  I’m doing a local Thanksgiving Day race.  I didn’t do the half marathon last weekend as I had planned (and trained for) - mostly because my body hurts in weird places and frankly, running 3 last year was enough.  I dropped down to the 8k and had my best race of the season.  I am definitely a cold weather runner.  I ran consistently and quickly (considering how I’ve been running).  I had enough energy that during the last mile to really push myself.  Flying down the final hill to the finish line, I remembered why running is so addictive.  But since then, I haven’t had the urge to do it . . . probably because I’m exhausted, busy, and fighting a cold.  I won’t be able to run until January due to some surgery looming on December 2nd.  It’s nothing major but it requires me to not lift anything over 10 lbs for a month and NO exercise except for walking.  Whee-haaah, I’m going to be insane. 

Work: Really, really busy.  Incredibly busy.  Working on higher level stuff than I’d dared to hope for.  Trying to stay on top of it while navigating the enormity of the organization.  I’m still enjoying the structure and the brain power there, and I’m still not taking the free pens and post-it notes for granted.

I’m Petty and Hurt: I’m mostly over what happened before and after the separation and subsequent divorce from my husband.  Sometimes, though, I discover a landmine under my unsuspecting and blissfully stupid feet. Just when I think I’m immune to those old pains, it detonates and I’m left dazed and muddy, wondering what the hell just happened.  This happened recently.  I want to think that I am a bigger person, that I am not the type to let things bother me, especially petty things. But I’m not big enough yet - and maybe I never will be.  Out of the many things that happened during the worst period of my life, some are still so painful I have to look at them briefly, then look away for a month or two.  I can’t really delve into them because there is no good outcome and there never will be.  It’s just an ugly part of my life that cannot be changed or redrawn no matter how many times I poke it with a stick. 

One of those things was the loss of many friends - 2 in particular - that were nearly as painful as the loss of my marriage.  I’ve managed to come to terms with it, but only in the sense that it isn’t fixable and there is nothing anyone can do to repair it. 

To understand the issue I have to explain the background.  I was the social one in my marriage.  I was the one interested in outings, having friends over, going places, doing things, couples dates, etc.  When I didn’t put them together, they didn’t happen.  I don’t think my ex would disagree with this; he acknowledged it many times during discussions.  He wasn’t all that interested.  He had me, he had his work, and later he had the girls.  I always admired (and despised) his ability to be so content with so few things. 

That being said, he wasn’t all that interested in any of my friends either.  He was polite, went out when asked to, acted socially and attended parties.  But he was never attached or involved with any of them.  So you can imagine my surprise when years after this has all happened, I am reminded that he’s still talking to the one person I’m smarting the most over losing.  Especially when it is dropped casually in the car by my children’s random chatter.  Which lead to Lily asking me why I wasn’t friends with her anymore.  Which lead to a discussion I really didn’t want to have, but had anyway.  I answered her question as truthfully as I could without saying anything bad about anyone and also letting her know that occasionally even best friends have arguments that can’t be patched. 

(on another note, I find it interesting that I am still not willing to drop a bunch of our marital or friendship dirty laundry here - I guess I am “big enough” on some levels to act appropriately). 

After that discussion, I was left wondering what the motivation for both of my exes (ex-husband, ex-friend) is.  You could say that keeping our children in touch with each other is a “good thing”.  After all, many of their early milestones were spent together.  But . . . really?  It would be like me trying to get in touch with his law school friends and hang out with them and their children.  I realize part of what makes me ugly is that I did honestly classify people as “mine” and “his”. I don’t think it’s all that uncommon, but admitting I’ve gone down that road is icky.  And she was definitely “my” friend.  Every time I hear about them getting together, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.  There is part of me who also mourns the fact that I won’t get to see her child grow up, a child I loved like my own.  So this means I should be happy my kids will, but I’m not.  I’m not happy about any of it.  In short, anything that reminds me of her and that situation hurts so much I can’t bear it.  I’m frustrated and sad - at myself for caring about it, and at them for continuing to talk. 

I could write 5,000 pages on everything that happened over the years to make me snap when I did during my relationship with her.  But I’m not going to.  I’ve hashed it all out over the years in therapy, and I’m done with it.  It will always hurt but I also realized that the letter I had written to her was never going to be sent.  I didn’t want to talk about anything, which was really the first time in my life I accepted that I couldn’t - and didn’t want to - fix something that was broken.  I needed to be okay with her thinking I just went crazy and accept that she has one view of what happened.  There was no real point in trying to explain how I got to that point, because it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. 

So the question is now how I handle her infrequent interactions with my children, and how I handle processing why in a million years my ex would even be slightly interested in maintaining a relationship with her.  Still working on this issue and trying to find a way to be a better person. 

[Someone asked me recently if I thought she, or my ex, or my ex’s girlfriend reads this blog.  No idea - but if they do - hi to all of you.  I am positive I would never read anything like this if they were the ones writing it, but if it gives them a charge or helps them feel superior, more intelligent, and more together than I am, I’m happy to provide that platform.]

Running Boy:  Running Boy and I are still, well, running.  Sometimes it feels like that’s all we ever do.  I’d love to be able to say things are going to calm down, but they won’t.  The facts: between us there are 4 kids, 4 custody schedules, one bitter and unhappy ex-wife and 2 dogs.  I’ve had to accept some facts that are very hard for me.  In my fantasy world, I had a view of how my future would look and though I am very happy now, and feel settled and at peace with my life, the real vision of how things will need to be in order to function is very different than my original feeling.  I’ll get into details at some point when it’s more appropriate to do so, but let’s just say that I really wish I didn’t live in a highly conservative state right now.  The laws here that dictate what is right or wrong really bother me.  In short, the fact remains that from a strictly legal perspective, it’s ok to have different men in and out of your life (and your kid’s lives).  It’s not ok to have a serious committed relationship, however, because if one lives with another in the Commonwealth of Virginia without being married, your custody is up for discussion.  It’s really freaking bizarre. 

In the meantime, we have lots of fun, we rile each other’s children before bed time, run together, talk about how love makes you fat and generally enjoy life.  We both have earned some time to enjoy. I’m hopeful that very, very soon he’ll be one step closer to real freedom, or as free as one can get when you have children with someone else. 

In December, we’re celebrating our first year together.  Not sure what we’re doing yet, but hopefully it will involve a lot of either skiing, spa-like excesses, sleep or running.

State Hospital:

In a completely unrelated and almost bizarre manner, a friend posted this video on Facebook today.  The State Hospital in Traverse City was always one of my favorite places there. My earliest memory of the grounds dates back to elementary school. I had to do a leaf collecting project, and the State Hospital was famous for having a huge variety of trees.  I still remember my dad helping me pull a ginkgo leaf off while we compared it to a page in my textbook.  It was beautiful, albeit scary - too much crumbling brick and decay, but fascinating.  The video really captures all I loved about it.

I’m a little bit in love with my boss. 

No, not THAT kind of love.  But back when I was looking for jobs, and struggling to process the idea of working INSIDE a law firm instead of consulting for one, I was being very picky about where I applied.  Firm X had employees who would rather go through a meat grinder than suffer another day at their firm.  Firm Y was a huge, ancient machine, rolling along with the good ol’ boy network for which Richmond is infamous.  Firm Z had a crazy managing partner who slammed doors so hard, the ceiling tiles would fly out. 

In other words, I either knew too much about the firm to want to work there or the reputation of the firm preceded it in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.  There were a few firms here that had stellar reputations and a few that were so quiet (meaning they didn’t send their marketing people out of the local office frequently),  I didn’t know much about them.  The firm I ended up with was one of those “quiet” firms, and it wasn’t until I began the interviewing process that I found out who the players were and what the environment was like.  Rather than belabor all the details that led me to taking on this project, I’ll just give the number 1 reason I ended up here. 

The CMO here in my firm is “famous”, at least in the legal marketing world.  I’d heard his name tossed around at other firms and legal marketing events.  He was originally a lawyer, but one of the rare ones crazy good with business development, and decided to go into the business of teaching other lawyers how to sell.  Yeah, I said sell - which usually freaks the lawyers out.  His job is way more 20,000 feet up in the air than any consulting I did.  He’s big picture; I’m big picture on a small budget, meaning I had to do most everything myself to implement the big picture.  His passion for business development is probably the number one thing I love about legal marketing - working with lawyers, helping them gain the confidence needed to step outside the office, and showing them the ways they can help their communities and clients. 

Having the opportunity to work under someone who could teach me so much was icing for me.  I’ve had lots of bosses - some of them have been spectacular (my boss at the accounting firm, so strategic in his moves that he could seem to magically make everyone more productive; one of my favorite consulting clients up in DC who has the most incredible ethics and humor and brilliance).  Some of them have been, well, less than spectacular and you wonder how they ever came to be in a management role (let’s not forget the boss addicted to kiddie porn who couldn’t help himself from watching it in the office, or the one who was caught having sex with the office admin in the middle of day, on his desk, at work).  I was excited about all the smart people in my department and I was hoping it was as good as they promised it would be.

So far, the lip service about the culture here has proven true.  With the minor blip or burp or bad day, my team functions as a true team, and it’s refreshing to be surrounded by good attitudes and a lot of brain power. 

One day, I was talking to my coworker about the backgrounds of people we work with. I have always loved learning how people end up where they do, and we talked about our boss.  She pulled out a letter, simply titled “Christmas 2007”.  It was a copy of something he’d sent to family and friends way back when.  Reading through it, I was blown away.  I really knew nothing about his personal life, his family, or anything outside of the legal marketing realm.  I finished reading and thought about the letter.  I thought and thought about it for another two weeks before I got up the nerve to tell him that I wanted to publish it here, on my blog. 

I was given permission to put it here, though I have redacted some of the names of family members or other identifying characteristics.  It’s lengthy, but don’t skip over any of it. It will make sense when you read it.  Reading it as I did - blind to the circumstances of his family and life - made the message even more poignant.  Other than adding links to items he referenced and the aforementioned “names changed to protect the innocent”, it is unchanged from its original form. 

“Me happy now.”  Reid says these words whenever he hears or does something that strikes his fancy.  Learning that “Kaboom” (America’s Funniest Videos) will be on Sunday night or that Craig will be home from Boulder for a visit; going to Paige’s school to “push me please” (Reid’s words for swinging), or just hearing that I will be home from work in time for dinner – any of these is enough to trigger the phrase. 

I was wondering what would make most of us say me happy now?  Getting a promotion, a raise or an unexpected day off?  Getting flowers or a massage?  Taking a trip with someone we love?  Reading (or writing) a good book?  Reconnecting with an old friend?  Closing a huge deal?  Visiting a family member that we haven’t seen for a while?  If these are the things that make us happy then it seems that we should be doing them, or, at least, working toward doing them.  There is nothing wrong with focusing on a little happiness in the midst of our sometimes-crazy over-scheduled lives, right?  I would really like to declare 2008 ‘the Year of Joy’!

Many of you probably heard about Randy Pausch, the young professor at Carnegie Mellon who was told he had just a few months to live earlier this year.  A father of 3 small children, he chose to use his remaining time to make a positive impact on the world and to establish an exemplary legacy for his children.  He called the diagnosis “a gift”, saying: “to actually know how much time I had left on this earth gave me a chance to plan carefully how I used every minute.”  His Final Lecture has been viewed by millions of people on YouTube, and he has truly made a positive difference in many lives.  My favorite point in Randy’s presentation is that brick walls are put in our way not to stop us, but to give us something to break through.  He talks a lot about childhood dreams, and enabling the dreams of others.  God bless the people who give us the gift in the message to “live like you’re dying.” 

Albert Ellis, whom Psychology Today once described as the “greatest living psychologist” (before he died, of course), was fond of quoting the Greek stoic philosopher, Epictetus, who essentially said: ‘It’s not events, but our opinions of them, which cause of suffering.  The challenge is to be able to change our opinions and mental habits so that we become robust and self-accepting enough to withstand external events that used to cause us suffering, such as getting rejected by a woman or getting fired.’  So as we face the inevitable challenges of daily life, maybe our response to whatever happens around us should be me happy now . . . not only when Paige makes a full-out diving save in a soccer game, but when she lets a soft goal slip past her - - me happy now that she is able to play and be part of such a great team.  When I think of Craig graduating from college in May it makes me smile, but I still need to be happy if he says he may not move back to Boston.  I am typing with a stiff neck and wearing a brace right now, but Reid keeps kissing my neck saying “bubba better?” Even with this pain, how can I not be happy now?

Where else can we find Reid’s wonderful perspective in our lives?  How about when loved ones like Jorgan, Kristen and Aunt Judy beat the odds and get a good bill-of-health; when I receive a wonderful book like “Season of Life” and I like it so much that I send a bunch of copies to my high school football friends; when Karen tells me she and Clara got a “Big W” in their team tennis match; when Paige says she really likes her teachers; when we learned that our 6-month kitchen renovation project would be done (almost) on time; when we heard that Craig’s first snowboarding runs of the season were a blast; when thinking about our annual trip to Florida with friends; going to a World Series game in Denver, or when family friends welcome us into their home on Thanksgiving.  Me happy now.  How about a weekend with Lizzie on Nantucket, a vacation in Florida with friends, sharing my collection of poems, or hearing Paige sing in the school chorus.  What about weekend getaways with Karen, or going to a yoga class (my new favorite workout).  There is real joy in the rapport and connection Karen has with her brothers.  And what about Terry and Jodi having a baby!  Me happy now. 

I am reminded of the movie Being There in which Peter Sellers’ character shares simple insights (mostly gleaned from TV) that catapult him from being a reclusive gardener to a Presidential advisor.  “If you give the flowers water, they will grow…” Simplicity.  No agenda.  No political clutter and no ego.  Here, simple, honest phrases are interpreted as genius and loving kindness – a lot of lessons in a simple movie. 

There are a number of life lessons encapsulated in Reid’s simple little phrase, too.  We are blessed to have a loving caretaker, Helaine, who spends a lot of quality time with Reid.  But someday we will need to introduce Reid to a home where he will be with peers and full-time caretakers.  We will plan and make the move sensitively, but leaving him there for the first time will be devastating emotionally.  Our strength at that moment will not come from within, though; it will come from Reid when he looks around his new digs for the first time and turns to us with his disarming smile and says “me happy now.”  We will draw on his capacity to accept profound change, appreciate life’s constants and connections, and his willingness to openly express his feelings . . . now that, my friends, is inspiration. 

So why is there so much focus on Reid this year, when we have two other wonderful children?  Partly it’s because no matter how you interpret the Bible, its insights about children are priceless.  The psalm says: “Come as a baby weak and poor to bring all hearts together.”  God has blessed us with someone who, in many ways, will always be a child.  “Whomever welcomes this little child . . . welcomes God.”  Reid doesn’t rely on hype or phony positivism to enjoy life; he just enjoys what he enjoys; he seeks it out and drinks it in.  Even something as basic as bedtime prayers (which he calls “God Bless”) or riding in the front seat of the bus or seeing a UPS truck gets it done for him.  I want to learn from that perspective what joys I might be missing in everyday life . . .

Talking about Reid also gives me a chance to talk about Karen - - she who for 17 years has never once – not once – complained about how much work it is to bathe and feed and dress Reid; no complaints about trips to the doctor or spilled water.  Like Laurie, for whom the same can be said, this, to me, is the true definition of ‘motherhood’.  Thank you to all who give care and comfort to those in need or less fortunate.  It represents the kind of giving that I want to be reminded of this holiday season. 

We can slice and package “time” any way we want, and it may seem artificial to say we are at the end of a “gift”; but we are at the end of another year, and that is a gift for which I am truly thankful.  Let the ‘first gift of Christmas’ this year be hope for more time together to live, and to give and to love.

This entire message had great personal meaning to me, especially since the last few years have been so disruptive and chaotic.  Allowing myself to feel happiness, or god forbid, joy in the little things, has been a major struggle for me.  After I finished digesting the letter, I took advantage of a breezy, sunny day and ran across one of the main bridges downtown that crosses the James River.  Instead of listening to music and gutting it out through the run, I listened to the cars and the birds and sniffed the air.  I focused on how good the water tasted, said hi to every homeless person I met, and lingered near a local brewery featuring a woman singing out on the deck.

Additionally, my dad recommended “Being There” to me at a young age.  I didn’t get the movie the first time I saw it, but I get it now and I love it.  My dad’s eternal optimism and his ability to be grateful for life when so many of his friends from WWII didn’t have that same benefit . . . it made him fearless about risk-taking and it made him one of the few people I knew who absolutely drank in life’s experiences with the same amount of gusto in which he consumed Manhattans and wine. 

I can’t say I’m always going to remember to do those things, but when I look around my office at the bumper stickers someone had made for my boss (unsurprising in that they say “Me happy now!” - Reid), it’s a little jolt in the middle of a regular workday filled with perceived crises and deadlines and emergencies. 

It also reminds me daily that I probably made the right decision in coming here. 

You might have gotten the wrong idea, considering I’ve barely used the category here called “Things Thora Eats”.  Unfortunately, I’ve been too busy to really stay on top of it so I’m going to update it here briefly. 

This weekend, a carton of Morton’s salt met an untimely demise:

A Bulova watch box, which thankfully was the only thing she managed to mangle, and not the item inside it:

And finally, another item that foiled her in the end, but not before she managed to puncture it and leave sticky juice on MY BED:

(note:  so very tired, grammatical errors ahead.  cut me some slack.)

In the last three weeks, I’ve started a new job, finished my first big project, raced in Washington DC, had a birthday celebration (small scale) for Arden, had a birthday celebration (large scale) for Arden including mass chaos at a Build-A-Bear followed by even bigger chaos at a slumber party, followed by lack of sleep, a 10 mile run, and a huge, successful and very loud surprise party for Running Boy followed by breakfast, cleanup, dehydration and an overwhelming need for narcolepsy. 

So to back it up:  work.  Work is work, yes, but it’s also way more strategic than I’d hoped and is actually challenging me more than I was lead to believe.  This either means I’ve dumbed myself way down over the past decade or it’s just good and honest challenging work.  I like my team and have only irritated someone one (by putting lotion on a dry ankle; apparently she’s very sensitive to smells and had no issues letting me know about it).  I’ve been cramming my running and workouts into the days somehow.  I’ve also been adjusting to the unfabulous thing that is workplace food.  Communal eating is rampant on my floor and someone is always bringing in some junk or other.  This defies logic, as I work with some of the thinnest people I’ve known.  It’s wreaking havoc on my own self-esteem issues but I am trying to get over. 

Army 10-miler: I had a fabulous weekend in DC with Running Boy and our friends Andrea and Joe.  I could go on and on about it, but the Renaissance in Pentagon City is amazing, the weather was beautiful, Ethiopian food doesn’t agree with Running Boy’s internal machinery, and seeing our friends before a moving running experience was really amazing.  The race itself wasn’t what I’d call well thought out.  This is strange, considering it’s a government that can run huge projects with millions of people and . . . oh, wait.  Right.  Government.

The plus side:  running with veterans, some missing legs and arms or both, some with prosthetics and some in wheelchairs, really brings home the cost of a war.  It was an odd race in that many times throughout the 10 miles, I felt myself close to tears and not just because I really wanted to stop running.  Watching mothers and sisters, wives, girlfriends, friends . . . all of them running with pictures of their dead on their backs.  It was a hard thing to take in, especially against the backdrop of a gorgeous day, the sun crashing against the Potomac and the monuments and cherry trees at my back. 

The down side:  Joe had to stop at mile 2 for help with his knee and I ran the last 8 alone.  The first 10k was good.  The last 4 miles was just ugly and miserable.  I was hot, slow, and even all the cute army boys manning the water stops weren’t enough eye candy to keep me going.  I walked the better portion of the last 2 miles, just to find myself dehydrated and overheated while I wandered around a parking lot at the Pentagon, attempting to find a particular Hooah tent in the middle of what seemed like thousands of other tents.  Did they provide a map of what tent contained what unit?  Nope.  Nor did I realize that after 45 minutes and yes, let’s admit it, a few tears of utter frustration and the dire need to sit down, that I’d meet up with everyone just to walk another mile back to the metro station.  Even better - a runner, waiting for the metro, decided that chugging water would make him feel better.  “Chugging” and “post race hydration” do not go hand and hand.  While we all charged through the opening train doors, Chugger expelled the water he’d just inhaled in a 50 mph arc.  The last 1/4 of the arc hit my right side and legs.  Oddly he continued onto the train, still gagging, at which point the doors closed in time for him to release another jet onto a new group of people. 

It was a long ride back to Richmond, and I admit my crankiness at Running Boy’s custody schedule continues to irritate me.  Don’t know why I can’t just accept it for what it is and hope for a change in it soon, but I’m not going to lie:  losing the majority of every other Sunday makes traveling nearly impossible.  And I’m tired of feeling like his situation still dictates what I can and cannot do. 

HOWEVER.  The weekend was great and I got a tiny bit of down time before . . .

Arden turned 7. Family dinner on Tuesday, following by a whirlwind week of school stuff, work and coordination.  Her actual birthday party included 8 kids at Build a Bear workshop.  Yes, I’m still disturbed by a steel pipe shoved up the rectum of an unsuspecting bear or rabbit, but the girls really love it and Arden even stuffed the butt of an owl for me.  After, we had pizza and cake at the house.  I will admit that I overextended the invitation.  3 girls plus Arden is probably plenty; I did way more than that, and I paid the price for it.  This also includes the idea of the girls going home to their parents saying, “Arden’s mom is MEAN!”  I had to do a lot of “mom-voice” and threatening.  One girl actually left at 11.30 because the dryer beeped and she said the noise sounded like a robot. I got no sleep that night, but had to be up at 6 to get ready for a 10 mile training run.

pics:

So why not skip it?  Because the longer runs are important and after running 8 miles alone after 2 with company, I had no desire to try to get 10 miles in isolation.  I had a babysitter come at 6.30 to help get the girls up, dressed and fed before the parents came to pick them up. I paid well; that was quite a task for her.  The 10 miles itself was really nice.  A side note:  that particular route is the one I did on Christmas morning after leaving the girls with Mike.  It was my first Christmas without them since their birth, and it was a pretty wretched day.  The route is one of my favorites because it’s mostly flat and full of good people watching, but the roads still hold a trace of the utter despair I left behind on December 25. 

After, my mother showed up to entertain Lily and Arden.  Through many very complex gyrations and a lot of help from friends, especially the aforementioned mother, Andrea and Renee, not to mention the boys who kept him busy Saturday, I was able to pull off a huge coup and actually surprise Running Boy with a huge birthday party. 

Side note #2.  I had originally thought I’d combine his birthday with a divorce party, because SURELY he’d be divorced by October, right?  Well, I wasn’t right, but I continued on with my planning.  I can’t even explain how complex it was trying to shuttle four kids around without setting off warning bells, but with some careful planning and some crafty lying, I had him convinced we were going “away” for a night.  When it finally clicked, he was pretty impressed.  His friends amaze me; 20+ years of knowing him and they drive all kinds of hours to make it down for this party.  It was a mixed bag of people; some of our running friends, some of my friends who have learned to love him, many of his friends I was meeting for the first time (and who got over how weird it was that I’d hijacked his phone and began sending random text messages to people I’d never talked to about coming to a party I was hosting).  Everyone seemed to click, the beer flowed liberally, and in my second major coup of the day, I managed to talk Dean Fields into doing a house party.

(actually it isn’t that hard.  pick a date he’s available and write him a check, and he pretty much shows up…)

One of my first real dates with Running Boy was to see Dean play at Cap Ale here in Richmond.  It was a ton of fun and I’ve been a big connoisseur of his music since then.  He’s readily accessible through all the social media norms, so I reached out to him when I found out he did these house shows.  Some begging and pleading to move dates around and voila - he showed up at the house, mingled for an hour, played in the backyard in front of a roaring (duraflame) fire until his hands got so cold they went numb, and ended up sticking around for the rest of the wackiness.  It seemed as though most really enjoyed the experience, but for me it was incredibly meaningful.  As I’ve traveled the better portion of the last year with RB, Dean’s music has played on my iPhone and during many an ice bath, hot bath, or afternoon of doing nothing.  His music was the soundtrack to the end of my marriage and the start of my new life, and to have him play songs that are important to me was something I’ll never forget. 

pics:  (warning, not every pic is family friendly)

Arden had yet another birthday party to attend today, so I dragged my hungover, still dehydrated rear to the mall.  We ran after the kids and rode a train and tried not to be cranky as all of us were very tired.  It’s going to feel very good hitting the pillow in the next 5 minutes.  I also was going to post a video I took of Dean in the backyard, but it’s really crappy quality and you can see what his house shows are like by clicking the link above. 

I feel like I am coming off an adrenaline bender, and so looking forward to doing nothing next weekend.  For now, however, I am so grateful to those who made the weekend possible and for the ability to give something back to Running Boy.  He very much needed a bright spot among the few dark ones that remain.