"WHEN IT DON"T COME EASY" (PATTY GRIFFIN)

Night-time, all alone at home music.

Monday night meltdown.

The single Mother, Runner, Nurse thing is hard. Lately it is harder still, as I am making progress in our lives and buying a house. I have a 7 year old and a 9 year old to help me. Off and on, when his classes permit, I have a 19 year old to help. Mostly, though, I have me.

How can I complain about buying a house that will be a home for my little family? How can I complain about making a place that will be a touchstone for all of my children? How can I complain about being able to afford such a luxury? How can I complain about providing us a home and maybe, (Good Lord willing and the water don't rise) a dog for my Small People. How can I complain?

I can't. I am blessed. I know that. I am just tired, and worried, and stressed. I have to do this all by myself. The mortgage, the closing, the painting, the flooring, the moving...it is all on me. I am good with it. But, wow. It all has to be done soon. And I have to do it. It really sucks that the guy I was spending time with chose to walk away right now because I am unappreciative. The loss of support is huge, but I am going to make it anyway.

Super Bowl Sunday --messy post

I ran today, outside, for the first time in a long while. Not a good run, but who am I, anymore, to say what a good run is? I finished. I ran outside. As of 10:15 pm, I am still walking. So, a BIG checkmark in the win column.

I love pro football. I just do. And, as a single mom who loves football, I am passing this on to my small people because rooting for and being invested in the home team is important. It grounds you. It gives you roots. It gives you a reason to connect to the city/town.

I am trying to give my small ones the best parts of me. I am teaching them to cook. ( I can make something out of nothing. Give me a few staples and some castoff stuff in the fridge, and I can make something you will want to eat again. Except that you can't, because I don't keep track of what I do.) Not really a recipe kind of girl, here. I am trying to pass that on to the small people. Katie can, carefully--under close supervision-- chop things. She cannot mince herbs, but she is killer with carrots, peppers, parsnips and the like. She knows how to saute, but still needs some help with the strength of her utensil. She is only 9, after all...her hands are only so big. But she is learning to turn meat and veggies, and to take them off heat at the right time. WIN!!!

The best part of the Super Bowl is the party. Today our party was just the 3 of us, but we had a loud TV, lots of football and snacks. The snacks were really good, but the commercials? Ummm.

Fajitas and fish tacos at half-time (yeah...dinner for the next week) were wonderful. Katie helped. And Small People thought the Black-eyed Peas half-time show was really cool, too. All in all, a Super day. It may be only us, but our "us" is all sorts of fabulous.

Night music for tonight

Simple running

I have run 5 miles every non-work day since the end of January. I am running indoors at present, but that might have to change. The treadmill deck is soft, which makes the idea of running on asphalt and concrete a bit frightening. However, the boredom-factor of running indoors make running outside highly enticing. Perhaps tomorrow I will give it a whirl.

So, apparently I can run again. Not far and not fast, but it counts. The orthopod? He can go screw.

Vaudeville.

Remember those performers in the old vaudeville shows that spin plates? They run back and forth frantically wiggling sticks to keep a bunch of plates on the top of those sticks from crashing down. Lately, I am that person. Actually, I am always that person, just with fewer plates. Right now, my plate complement is full. Buying a house. Getting a loan. Moving. Starting to run again. Mother. Nurse. Dealing with my daughters' deteriorating relationship with the step-mom. Spin and wiggle...wiggle and spin.

I lost one plate. I no longer am seeing the guy that I was kind of seeing. He needed more than I could give, and I couldn't give him what he wanted. So, he walked away. It's okay, actually. I just am not in a place where I can be somebody's someone. The timing sucked (he is really good with tools and fixing and all that handyman stuff), but the relief of not having to give to yet another person is palpable. I guess that means I am okay with it.

I ran five miles again today. Legs were tired from yesterday, and it wasn't as good as a run as yesterday's. However, I ran five miles today, and I can still walk without much pain or sponginess. That's money, baby.

It Is Almost Midnight.

In just a few minutes it will be a new month, February. I started this blog last year, in February. I suppose it is time for a retrospective. I know. I am late to the party. Most people do the assessment, resolution, betterment plan in late December. Or no later than Jan 3 (when the hangover is really, really gone and the bowl games are over). But, I am not really that way. The people who really know and love me get this about me, but only one person in my life has been able to put my "sarah-ish-ness" into words.

I took Modern European History when I was a senior in high school, at Chatham Hall in Virginia (girls' boarding school...awesome place. I still love it). Modern European History was NOT what I was expecting. Renaissance? Middle Ages? What did that have to do with MODERN?? Anyway, there were five of us in the class. Five. 5. Sooo....bluffing was not an option. Dr Reilly knew every single one of us flat out cold. Tests were several short answer questions and an essay. Rarely in college did I have exams that were that focused or that difficult. Rarely. I sweated those exams, probably as much as I should have. I was given a very narrow topic, one that would tax my knowledge of a subject, and I would have to deliver a well thought out argument.

Dr. Reilly, one day after handing us back our test results (to all 5 of us), had me stay after class. I had gotten an A on the exam, and he had never asked to talk to me after class before. It wasn't worrisome, it was just strange, odd. I looked at him, with his straight, dark, bowl-cut hair and his round glasses -- with his tweedy jacket with the worn elbow patches, incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, but yet willing to teach teenagers -- and wondered what the hell he had to say to me.

That man captured the whole of me in a couple of sentences. He got me. He understood how I see things. His words to me, after class: "I always look forward to reading your essays. I know how everyone else in the class is going to answer the question, except for you. You always answer the question sideways." It wasn't a criticism, it was a compliment of the highest nature. A thinker who complimented a student on her thoughts. For almost 30 years I have carried that compliment with me. I have carried the knowledge that at least someone understood that i see things sideways, and that sideways isn't bad....it is interesting.

This year. The goal and the treat. Goal. I guess there are two. Buy a house (which will happen in the next few weeks...along with the flooring and yadda yadda),
get my knee well enough to do Dirt and run the Monkey. (notice I didn't mention time...that part is over for me. all good)

Treat. No brainer. A week in Sanibel, making Sanibel memories for the kids. What could be better than that?

Oh. I ran 5 miles today, with one water-stop. Slow, but steady, says the turtle. And I am walking pain-free tonight. HA.