This book.

It is the book I have been trying to write my entire life.

This frustrating, never ending book.

I have a little boy now, Ethan.

He is six.

A wealth of energy, a boisterous sack of convoluted emotions.

He is growing fast, trying to figure out who he is, who I am, where he came from.

Who are these people he calls family?

“Mommy tell me stories about when you were a little girl!”

Those precious bright beseeching eyes, soliciting from me information.

There are so many stories; I don’t know where to begin.

I rack my brain for the funny ones; those are the ones that boys of six like best.

But then there are the sad ones, the important ones that teach lessons.

Those I’ll save for later.

It’s part of what makes this so difficult.

What is the tone? How do I write this? How much do I tell and what should be held back?

There is always the illusive Unwritten Story of every book about real life.

Do I want to write one of those?

The truth can be so ugly.

I can write the ugly truth in a beautiful way. That might be interesting.

I get sick of beginning the book and it doesn’t go the way I like it so I start over.

I do this again and again and again.

There’s so many ways to tell the stories.

I cannot seem to figure out which one is the best.

Which is most honest without being cruel.

Whether to ‘fudge it’ or not.

Maybe I should hang it up and write something else all together.

Children’s books.

For now.

I thinking of it.

God.

I change my mind too much.

I wish I could just commit and stick with it.

I’m thinking that one day I will sit down and it will flow like it does in the beginning and just continue until it is done instead of turning into this painful extraction of memory.

Some of the words are like poetry to me, I love them and wonder where I got them from, then they slowly flow out into mush, slosh,

A disgusting goo of pish posh that wouldn’t move a bump on a log much less a human heart.

That’s when I get frustrated with myself.

“I don’t know what I’m doing! I have no business writing a book! This is a romantic dream!”

(I AM a hopeless romantic you know)

“Why did I ever think I could do this! I don’t even have a formal education! I have no papers! No right! No…. no…. Anything!”

Then I cry.

Should I feel inclined.

Then I listen to hear if I’ve answered myself.

In all these years, I usually never have.

Then I hang it up for the evening or afternoon or whatever time of the day it is and pick it up again on another.

It’s a hateful process.

You see why I’m so frustrated?

Anyhow.

I do feel better, every once in awhile, complaining about it – because one day I will finally get it out and then it will be done.

I have decided though that there is a very good chance it will not be any time soon.

I think I may be into my 40’s before I produce any great work really worth reading.

But a great work it will be.

Haha.

Somewhere, a long time ago I read that if you are not your own biggest fan, who then will be?

I took that to heart.

I have to tell you a story later on about hank’s aunt Mamie who years and years ago (forgive me, for I may convolute the details a bit)

Aunt Mamie being a teenager, 17 or 18 – graduated high school or did something grand of that sort and bring so proud of her self went out, bought herself a new dress and a dozen red roses.

She then went out and had her picture taken (this was in the 40’s I think) and somewhere that picture hangs, Aunt Mamie, being her very biggest fan, smiling like there is not a care in the world.

If that’s not a grand thing, I sir don’t know what is.





PS – I went out without my walker today – Almost made me have MY picture taken!

Happy Memorial-Watermelon Holiday

Memorial Day has always meant watermelon to me.



This Memorial Day was a great.



A little different, what with my new special friend following me around everywhere I went.



Hank brought something new to the Holiday.



Something that requires thermostat-watching and basting- on-the-hour.



The making of MAN FOOD.
(which is very delicious and wife approved)



It makes boys (who are MEN-to-be) smile...



On this glorious Memorial Day – there was the making of music. Or rather, the attempt to make music.



And finally, what we waited for all day,



Hank's very first slow smoked ribs!
They were delish.



Did I mention there was Watermelon?



In all its drippy goodness.

Im a little scared....

The Chiropractor seems to be helping – I have been twice and he has gotten me into a state of upright walking, un assisted for twice the periods I was getting on my own and sometimes longer.

Today though, I guess I was feeling frisky.

I’m not supposed to pick up ANYTHING or really do ANYTHING strenuous of any kind.

Hank and I went to Lowes and against Hanks imploring, I moved around some plants and then lugged around a water jug to feed my flowers when I got home.

It just felt so good to be doing something!

Needless to say, about 30 minutes later, I was hunched over, unable to even walk up on step into the house and in terrible pain.

Now, I’m using a walker to get around and Hank has had to force me not to try and do house work.

I’m not doing so well at taking it easy.

This is so disheartening.

I can’t believe what has happened to me and I have this sinking fear that I’m going to spend the rest of my life this way.

After all my hard work, getting my body into the physical shape I’ve always wanted.

I just can’t imagine that it could end like this.

I’ve been praying all the time, pleading with God to help me.

I would be a liar if I said that I am not scared.

I am.

This is one of the most frightening things that I have ever faced.

Sometimes, I go to get up and I feel like I can’t – I wonder what I would do if one day, I just couldn’t.

It terrifies me.

I feel like I have no control over it.

I guess I don’t.

Ah well.

So I guess for now, I will be going to the movies with my two favorite guys, sportin a walker and a mean right leg limp.

Sweet.

I think Hank deserves a refund!

Well,

I caught my husband down at Wife-O-Depot last week.

He was at the customer service counter arguing with one of the reps about my 1-Year warranty.

Apparently there’s some ‘clauses’ and he’s stuck with me.

Ha!

No……

He wasn’t really.

He called them on the phone.

Haha!

I’m actually the one who always insists he needs a trade in….

Case in Point,

It turns out there may be something wrong with my back now.

I just turned twenty-freakin-seven!!!!!

I have been debilitated to a state of mess, pulling myself up from sitting positions with my arms, unable to use my back at all most of the time.

Hubby Hubster and I figured that it might be worse than we thought when I went to see my doctor and they gave me a high dose pain med and months of refills with all the well wishes in the world.

This has been going on for 3 weeks (since my race)

I should be finding out what its all about soon.

I’m going to a Chiropractor this afternoon and I am just praying that they can do something for me to fix whatever is going on.

I just want to be ok.

I’m not even kidding or joking at all.

I wish to God I would stop getting sick in some way shape or form.

I’m so sick of Doctors and medicines and treatments and being scanned and lasered and poked and prodded and…..and……

I feel so guilty for even thinking that, because it could be so much worse.

I could have cancer, or be paralyzed.

I feel like a selfish brat every time I say stuff like that.

(sigh)

I am a brat sometimes.

It was easier to control when I had nothing to lose.

Still, I am tired of having these things happen to me.

All I want to do is run and be active and just BE.

Now that I finally can…..

Oh, and its 2:30

almost time to get eBert from school.

-M

Something New

For some time now, MarriedInSingleMomLand has been more and more about me trying to run and get in shape, etc, etc.

I know this is really not interesting for many of my readers who want to hear about funny things kids do and what it’s like to be married now, yadda yadda.

And for the readers who are only interested in dieting, weight loss, etc – all the other fluff is really not important.

I have decided to separate the two, I am starting a new blog,

Running from the Fat Lady
http://www.runningfatlady.blogspot.com/

It will also be available in the Blog section of www. Jacksonville.com

Check it out – You will get to see my fat pictures, those are always fun.

Plus lots of useful stuff.

More to come!

My first Mothers Day

I celebrated my 6th year as a mother yesterday.

For six years I have cared for a little boy who has brought me more joy than I could have ever dreamed possible.

For six years I have gone to him in the middle of the night, held his hand at the doctor’s office, placed SpongeBob Band-Aids over his little scrapes and watched him wipe his Popsicle face on my Sunday dress.

For six years I been trying to teach his to tie his own shoes, teach him to whistle ‘Yankee doodle dandee’ louder and clearer than “all the other kids”, I’ve been working on numbers, letters, sounds, coloring in the lines and the joys of coloring out of them too.

For six years I have battled against his strong will, what he wants verses what I know is right, teaching him the value of character and substance. Treating people with respect, respecting yourself and how to just be a good boy…

For six years I have skipped with him down the sidewalk when he implored me, I have gotten in the mud puddles to make mud pies, mud cakes, and mud coffee. I searched high and low through the bushes where the nasty bugs live to seek them out so we may investigate them closer and learn of their buggy ways.

For six years, I have I have gone to the park after working 18 hour shifts, came home, made dinner, read a book, bathed him, dressed him, sang to him and put him to bed.

For six years, Ethan has been my son.

The very best son I can ever imagine because he is mine, those grubby, sweaty little hands touching my face,

“Mommy, I love you.”

Those little slobbery kisses.

“Mommy you’re the best Mommy in the world.”

They do something inside that has always given me strength. Now, I don’t need so much strength and endurance, so it’s just that love that fills me up.

I have always told Ethan that my collar bones are my “Mommy Tanks” and he can push on them to see if they feel squishy and need ‘filling up’.

You fill up Mommy tanks with lots of hugs and kisses, that’s what give Mommy’s their powers.

(Ethan pressing on my collar bones)

“Mom, is your Mommy tanks way filled up?”

“Oh yes, but now, all the extra hugs and kisses are going into the reserves – that’s what I run off of when you’re away at school.”

Ethan giggles.

“That’s grand!”

Yesterday was the first mother’s day that we have ever celebrated.

Obviously, because I have never had anyone around to help Ethan with the process.

(Thanks Honey)

It was fun.

It didn’t work out that I should have breakfast in bed, which was fine with me.

But since next weekend is my birthday, my two favorite guys are going to do it for me then.

Yay.

Ethan was delighted to do ‘Mothers Day’ things for me, give me a lovely scarf and a shirt with delicate pick flowers on it.

And a card.

“I picked it out ALL BY MYSELF”

(sigh)

I guess that is the point isn’t it?

To get them doing everything, ‘all by myself’ I get a lump in my throat when I think about my little E, all grown up, no Popsicle smears on my clothes.

As much work as it is,

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Being a Mommy.

It’s very grand indeed.

Oh the agony! (a true life summer vacation planning story)

If someone would have told me a few weeks ago, when I first started this journey,

“Megan, summer vacation planning is…. Well, not fun. And finding that cute, quaint, charming little rustic beach house you see in your dreams is going to make you….. well, bonkers.”

I would have stood straight up and laughed in their faces.

HA!

HA! HA! HA!

You get the idea.

No one is laughing now.

Certainly not I.

For as I sit here today, I kid you not, surely I have invested over 80 hours into this venture, if not more.

And where am I now?

6 spreadsheets in, all cross referencing each other in a sideways sectioning pattern that will do loop de loops like nobody’s business all ringing loud and clear,

“yeah, but this isn’t really what you where looking for.”

And maybe what I’m looking for just doesn’t exist.

At least not in Florida.

And not in our budget.

(sigh)

Still I search.

Because I am sure that this is entirely true.

Or maybe, what I’m looking for and what I will find delightfully pleasing in the end are two entirely different things.

(They often are you know)

Something truly disappointing happened 2 days ago, I found what I thought was the place for certain!

An absolutely perfect little house in the Keys with a red brick oasis surrounded pool, French doors, two darling little bedrooms with that birch wood for the real Florida feel.

All for the bargain price of $500 a week!

(It was a monthly rental normally)

Turns out the week she has available in July is the only week that Hank can’t take off from work.

Ohhhhhhh……

We have decided to go to the Keys so that Hank can go diving, though he is willing to go anywhere – I don’t think it’s fair to make the man of the house who is making the only income right now, pass up on the thing that would make it a ‘real vacation’ for him.

The Keys, I’m finding, is not a place filled with beaches, so I’ve decided to look for a house with a pool.

This is far easier said than done.

Considering that most places in the Keys with pools are either multimillion dollar estates, or condos.

It’s exhausting.

Ultimately, we will make some sacrifice somewhere.

Hank is so easy going; he doesn’t care, as long as we stay in budget.

I’m so tired of looking at properties, I’m ready to just pick a place and be done with it.

I have spent 5 weeks researching; the one thing I’m sure of is I under no circumstances EVER,

For ANY reason,

Want to be…..

A travel Agent.

I did it!

FINISHER: Champion, Megan TIME: 34:20 PACE: 11:03

Talk about pre race jitters.

I was excited and nervous all at the same time.

At best I had hoped to cross the finish line still running, maybe in 40 – 45 minutes.

Realistically, I figured I would be walking shortly after my second mile.

I’ve never run farther than that.

I always get side cramps, or whatever you call them, and can barely breathe.

Surely this would be no different.

It was so much fun.

Lining up, waiting for the horn to sound and the lot of us to head on our way.


I got in the very back with the senior runners and the stroller pushers.

It was a while after the horn sounded before we even began to move.

Then we were off and I shuffled along, being passed, on person after another.

I thought about the tortoise and the hare.

“Slow and steady wins the race”

Well, I certainly wouldn’t be winning, but if I was going to finish running, I’d better pace myself slow.

Everyone beforehand kept telling me,

“Run your OWN race. Run like you trained. No different.”

So that’s what I did.

And it wasn’t hard.

I felt a little competitive, but I was just so happy to be there, it didn’t matter that everyone was passing me.

2 miles in.

I get that blasted side cramp under my right rib, just like always, I want to stop so badly but I’m determined to do everything I can to finish running.

I tuck my arm up under my rib and hold it there tightly with my other arm.

This makes it incredibly difficult to keep running, but I don’t care.

A race medic on a moped passes me, and notices me biting my lip in pain,

“Are you ok?”

I nod.

“Lord, please just let me finish running.”

It seemed as though all the cool breezes stopped and the sun began to glaze angrily down upon me in the last mile.

The sweat that ran down my back felt like molten lava and all I could do was take tiny gasps of air to keep going.

Finally, I could see the end of the track, there was a crowd of people there and though I could not make out any faces, I was certain Hank and Ethan were waiting for me there.

The pain in my side had begun to subside, and I unhooked my arm and picked up my pace,

“I can’t believe I’m going to finish running.”

I didn’t know if I could.

My eyes started to burn as I realized how close I was getting.

“I never stopped!”

I was so overjoyed with myself, I was nearly delirious.

I was so slow.

But I was constant.

And I ran though that terrible side cramp.

Now I was going to cross the finish line.

I was high with emotion as I searched the crowed for my two guys.

As I got closer the faces were more clear, then there they were, smiling and waving.

I didn’t even see Hank with the camera.



I saw Ethan his little hand waving frantically, calling out,

“Yay Mommy!”

God this was the best feeling in the world.

I can believe I’m really here.

I rounded the corner and looked up at the clock,

34 minutes

I was shocked.

I never expected to make it in under 40.

I entered to do my best and I had already braced myself to be the last person crossing.

And THAT would be ok.

But this was much better.

Ethan ran up and hugged me.

I searched for water and a place to lean.


Ethan chattered on about his fun in the bounce house and I despite my best efforts began to cry.

Not full on sobs, though I’m sure I would have, had I been alone.

I don’t know why really, I just felt so happy, so relieved that I did well. Not great, but well.

I finished running which was the only thing I ever wanted to do.

And I did it in decent time.

All this, my first run and I’m sure every run after it, is truly an accomplishment for me.

I thought back to my brief stint in ‘real’ high school and smiled,

My PE teacher yelling at me to run the track and I just couldn’t do it.

“You’re a disgrace Mathis!”

Well guess what?



Not anymore.

Tomorrow's Big Race

Is not so much of a BIG race really.

But it will be my first race.

Finally.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a tad nervous.

I always get nervous when I have to perform on any level. When I’m tested.

Whether it be with school, work or play.

I don’t want to fail at anything.

“Just do it for the tee shirt!”

That’s what my best running friends will tell me.

Marathon runners and tri-athletes.

Yeah.

They do it for the tee shirts.

Sure.

Getting sick before Gate River Run was such a huge disappointment, not being able to participate in that race after I had worked so hard.

So hard, that I made myself sick.

Oh well, it was the race that really got me motivated to run in the first place.

So it wasn’t a loss.

This is actually a pretty emotional thing for me.

Running.

I really hate running at times, often while it’s happening.

In intervals of 3 to 5 minute periods.

Lately, when my feet are pounding against the pavement, I’m thinking,

“I hate this!”

I want to stop where I’m at and walk home.

But I don’t.

My favorite thing to say to myself when I’m running, and the fire inches up my calves and into my thighs is,

“If this was easy… everyone would do it.”

And two years ago, there was no way in the world that I was physically capable of running.

I was so overweight and out of shape that a few short steps put me out of breath. Running would be a nightmare.

Yet here I am.

I think of what I must look like, shuffling down the sidewalks in my neighborhood, one foot in front of the other.

My thighs jiggling from where all that extra fat used to be.

I hope I look determined.

If nothing else, I’m sure I looked pained!

I feel more blessed than you can ever even imagine being where I am right now.

Thin.

God.

That sounds crazy to all you lifelong skinny’s (No offense, most of my best friends are all size zeros!)

Sometimes, when I’m running, I will get choked up because it’s still so surreal to me, that my body can do these things.

Most of my life I had been told I couldn’t.

I run because I can.

Not because I love it, but because God gave me the ability to.

It’s amazing to me.

This is what I wanted for so long, and now I have it.

It’s still so much work!

Ha!

But I love that feeling, when I round the corner and I can see my house.

I know that my run is almost over.

I think,

“I’ve done it again.”

My body is strong now.

Tomorrow is an important day for me.

I may place last, but I’ll place.

Pouring sweat and with a smile.