Horseback riding, online love, Legos, and tee shirts - a Summer with the Spaz

We're about a third of the way through the summer and things have been busy!

Munchkin has been spending most of her summer at La Petite Cheval Farm, riding horses, mucking stalls, having lessons, and getting dirty. If I would let her throw a sleeping bag down in a stall and spend the night there she would, but alas, I do need to bring her home in the evenings and make sure she eats dinner and showers. She reminds me so much of myself when I was a kid, rushing to the barn as soon as I woke up and only coming home when the last little bit of light was escaping over the horizon. If I can keep her interested in horses instead of boys throughout middle and high school, I'll consider it a job well done.

Goober and Bug have been driving me crazy here at home. Bug has met a girl who he talks to online... all day long and late into the evening.  But she's NOT his girlfriend and don't you even dare to say that she is! Goober spends his days playing with the dog, building gigantic LEGO creations, watching television, and asking me if we're going to leave the house at any point in the day.  I think he might be bored.

I've been selling Fifty Shades of Grey tee shirts like hotcakes. This is a major phenomemon, I tell you. They're going all over the world. Australia, the UK, and all fifty states. Everyone needs to express their love of Christian Grey.  And I love it.

But I'm really hoping to branch out to some new designs soon. We're working on our off-etsy store (to be unveiled soon!) and spending all of our time getting that in order so I haven't had a lot of time to work on designs. But soon... soon!

What was I doing again?

Today is one of those days when I don't think I'm ever going to get it together. It's quarter to 4 and I have no idea what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to be doing. The Internet and its beguiling shininess has distracted me from reality for hours now and I'm preoccupied over the fact that I've been sneezing non-stop since I woke up. Is it a cold or is it allergies? I won't know until it stops or I'm laid out in bed whining about how I feel like death.

I know there were important things I was supposed to do today. This is why I can't have a real job where I go somewhere and people pay me to accomplish things for them. Surfing the Internet and sneezing doesn't pay.

I think it might be a cold. I will distract myself with my next thought.

Do you ever feel like you are on a precipice? I feel that way right now. I feel like my life is about to change... and though I'm not sure which way it's about to go, I feel that it must be a good change.

I have never been too afraid of change. You see people all the time, stuck somewhere... maybe in a job they hate or a marriage that makes them sad or living in a town they feel chained to. They're on reality shows all the time and some therapist will diagnose them with the "afraid of change" label.

I've never understood the fear of change. If something is making you unhappy - change it. Do something different. If it gets worse, change it again. It's amazing, this ability to change.

It's probably why I may have appeared flighty for a lot of my young life. Flitting about from one thing to another, moving, changing, learning a little from my mistakes (not nearly enough - but a little), and making new ones.

Change is one of the luxuries of life that is taken when you have children. Because every day I want to be something different (I still don't know what I'll be when I grow up) and every day I fantasize about what life might be like somewhere else. Just today I found myself pricing lofts in Brooklyn's Williamsburg district. Maybe living there would provide me the inspiration I would really need for my writing, maybe there I'd write the next great novel. Maybe I'll just continue to live vicariously through Hannah from Girls.

For now my life must remain somewhat constant. Living in our aging ranch house in the boonies with suburbia rapidly encroaching, sending my kids to ethnically homogeneous schools, and driving a minivan with character.

Whatever precipice I am at will not include Williamsburg or a third floor walk-up with exposed brick. It will still include all the main players in my life and probably the minivan, too. I'm still excited to see where I might be going next.

The Spaz gets all sappy about The Man on Father's Day

At 24 years old I was a bit of a lost soul. I had spent the majority of my life floating around like a piece of paper blowing in the wind, letting life take me wherever it decided and not doing a whole lot to guide my future. I found myself a mom of two children under 2 years old, on a fast path to my first divorce, and living at home again under my mom and dad's roof without much of a clue as to how I had gotten there or how I would ever get back on my own feet again.

Then The Man walked back into my life. The Man was putting himself together. He had been taking care of himself a lot longer than I had and he had some stuff figured out. A lot more than I did, anyway. I'm not sure he quite understood the magnitude of what he was getting himself into when he made the commitment to me and to my children to be there for us, but regardless of the crapstorm that was about to rain down upon him, he held fast and stood by us.

And he's still here. Over a decade later, The Man is still standing and being the kind of dad to my children that any woman would dream about. He's strong when they need to be disciplined, soft when they need to be cuddled, silly when they need to laugh, and understanding when they need to vent. He's absolutely amazing with them.

People always ask me if Bug or Munchkin ever ask about their biological father and the answer is no. They don't. I honestly don't think they give him much more than a tiny passing thought every once in a while... because that void has been so completely and wholly filled by The Man. He has never treated them any differently than Goober, our youngest who is The Man's biological child. They know they are loved just as much and that The Man would do anything for them just the same.

There are no words to express how immensely thankful for him I am. How absolutely lucky I feel to have been blessed with him.

Happy Fathers Day to The Man - and every other dad who is there for a kid that needs guidance and love that their "real" dad isn't providing. You are amazing.

Parenting FAIL number.... I think I should stop counting... it's just making me look bad.

Yesterday was Munchkin's moving on ceremony from 5th grade. I'm going to confess something here and it's not popular with other moms, I know it. But I'm all about honesty.

I didn't realize it was that big of a deal.

She's moving on from 5th grade. She's not graduating from college.  She has managed to pass through the most basic level of our educational system.  I'm sorry that I don't feel overwhelmed with pride.

Yes, I get a weepy when I reminisce and realize my little girl is growing up. I understand the importance of recognizing that she is moving on from one stage of childhood to a new stage where she will begin learning to be a young woman. I have all the normal mom emotions that go along with watching her grow and change and advance.

I just don't think that the fact that she has passed the 5th grade is something to throw a party over and I didn't realize that this ceremony, held in the middle of the week, in the middle of a work day, was supposed to be one of those things you drop everything and put on eyeliner to attend.

The ceremony was at noon, yesterday, a Wednesday. Obviously, in reality, the school doesn't think it's that big of a deal, either, or they would have scheduled the thing at a time when most parents could actually attend.  But they sure made it out to be a big deal to the 5th graders because Munchkin made a big stink about making sure The Man and I attended.

So we did.  It was important to her and we're all about being there for our kids, so we were there.

We sat in the cafeteria with a bunch of other parents, grandparents, and siblings and their digital SLR cameras. The Man decided that everyone was out of work due to the economy and that's why they could all attend. I wondered how they afforded thousand dollar cameras with no job.

And then the ceremony began.  Kids were being called up for all kinds of awards. Presidential, Honor Role, $500 scholarship funds for being a good person, and more.

Munchkin was called up for nothing.

And while I was a little annoyed with the fact that we were attending a ceremony to watch a bunch of kids I didn't know stand up and get awards, I realized that it was important to Munchkin that we were there when she walked across the stage to get her "diploma."  Really? Diploma?

So she walked across the stage, we watched a little slideshow presentation of all the kids as babies and now. I chose to send in a picture of Munchkin at the horse show and realized that due to the helmet, I don't think any of the kids realized it was her, oh well - I'm sure she let them all know.

And after the ceremony we were told that we should go back to the classroom where the teacher would be handing out some other awards that the kids had earned.

Here was the chance. Munchkin was sure to be awarded something in the classroom, right?

The Man and I took a seat in the classroom in chairs made for 5th grade behinds, and waited to hear how awesome our kid was.

Every kid came up and accepted something. I counted. Every kid.

Except one.

You guessed it.

Oh, but never fear, we didn't leave empty-handed.  I was given a slip of paper that let me know which library books Munchkin had checked out and neglected to bring back, and told that she would not receive her report card until they were paid for.

I cannot tell you what a proud mommy moment that was.

Y'all, I'm not proud of what I did next, but I hope you can understand what place I was coming from when I did it.  And if you can't... well, what amazing children you must have and how lucky you must be to have never been in my shoes at this moment.

The Man described it as me being "harsh".... but I know I was just downright mean.

As we walked to the car after leaving the school, Munchkin was all bubbly and happy.  And it made me mad. And the anger boiled up inside of me and came right out of my mouth.

"Maybe the next time you beg for Daddy and me to come to one of your awards ceremonies, you might want to make sure you ACTUALLY GET AN AWARD!"

It was venomous, too.

Listen, I told you I wasn't proud of it.

She cried, I felt sort of bad... but at the time I was still so mad.  Now I feel really bad.  It's one of those moments she's going to be talking to a therapist about in 15 years and pointing to as the reason for all of her life failures and struggles. I do realize this.

So today I'm going to eat crow and apologize to my daughter and let her know that I am proud of her... even if I don't do a very good job of expressing it sometimes.

Sometimes it sucks to be a grown-up.

Where the Spaz clings to her sanctuary with white knuckles and denial

The kids have exactly 2 days left of school this year.

I am scared.

I'm completely, 100%, unprepared to have them home all day, lounging around, fighting with each other and making me want to pull the hair out of my head in giant fistfuls.

I. Have. No. Plan.

Munchkin will spend time at the barn. Thank heavens for the barn. But the boys? They're likely to kill each other.

I don't know exactly when the mayhem began, but it really feels like it's been going on forever. The boys are arch enemies. And it's exacerbated because they share a room.

As much as I'd love to be able to give the boys each their own room, it would require me to make a ginormous sacrifice. I'd have to give up my office. My lovely, happy place. My retreat.

I hate to admit it, but since I've put the kibosh on eBay, I probably could manage it. I mean, I could probably finagle a space in the bedroom for a desk or get one of those nifty armoire thingies where you just close it all up and your office disappears into the formal living room. I'm sure I could do it.

But.... my office....

I love coming in here and shutting the door and having my own little world. It's the only room in the house that is really mine. Granted, my office is sandwiched in between Munchkin's room and the boys' room so I occasionally hear things hitting the walls (mostly on the boys' side and I think it's mostly because they are throwing each other into the walls in an attempt to maim each other).  I could probably manage to make a little corner of the living room even quieter than my current office.

But..... my office!


Bug is currently 12 and Goober only 8. Bug is in middle school and interested in girls and technology and Goober is still playing with LEGOs and laughing at fart jokes. Okay, Bug still laughs at fart jokes, too, but you see where I'm going with this.

They're different.  And they need their space.

I'm going to hold out as long as I can, though.

Why eBay is a zero and Etsy is my hero

I quit.

Sort of. Almost. Pretty much.

I quit eBay. I just plain can't stand it anymore. eBay has become an ugly place. A place where small sellers like me have to work their tails off for very little pay just to get anywhere at all. Or at least that's how my experience has been over the past few years. I know it's not the same for everyone else. I know some super awesome sellers in other parts of the country, even outside of the country, who are doing great with eBay. And that is awesome for them.

It just became too much for me.

As my kids have gotten busier, as my life has gotten crazier. I've found I just couldn't invest as much time into eBay as I used to be able to. People always tell you life is crazy when you have tiny little children, but no one warns you what it's going to be like when they're all in school and they have their own interests and friends and schedules. You think it's going to get easy because they're in school for a few hours every day. And it is, sort of. But it's also not. Because there is homework, projects, scouts, classes, all kinds of avenues of enrichment that you want so badly to allow your child to participate in. Band concerts, award ceremonies, meetings, and tournaments. You get the idea.

But I digress.

My busy life isn't the only reason I'm kicking eBay to the curb. The biggest reason is the stress. eBay has little sellers like me by the short and curlies, if you know what I mean. One dinged star, one red doughnut in our feedback profile, one missing package and our livelihood is threatened.  Not only that, but there is so much competition and the buyers are so willing to nickel and dime every seller, that our profit margins are teenie tiny. One scamming buyer can quite literally take food right out of our children's mouths.

It wasn't until earlier this year that I realized just how much I hated it. The shopping stopped being fun, the photos started to be pure drudgery, the describing, the research... all of it was like one of those jobs you wake up for in the morning and immediately start thinking of reasons you can call in sick.

And it's so very sad, really, because I used to absolutely love eBay. I was eBay's biggest cheerleader.  When I was laid off in 2001, eBay was a safe harbor for me. I put food in my newborn baby's mouth with eBay and sometimes even felt a real sense of security.

Those times are long gone for me, though.

(Okay, okay, I still have one eBay store running and I might list some stuff in it soon. But it's purely to get rid of inventory I already have. I swear. And to unload the Yudu for our Girl Scout troop. That's it. Really.)

So I found something different. Something I love to do and a reason to check my email with a smile every morning.

Tee shirts.

I talked about it a little bit before. But I've expanded, y'all. And I'm having so much freaking FUN.

It started with the girl scouts. And then a little summer camp action. Before long I was making shirts for bowling leagues and 4H clubs.

And then a few friends and I read Fifty Shades of Grey . You've heard of it. The scandalous novel sweeping the world with it's tantalizing scenes and bondage and discipline themes? Yep, that one.

We giggled over it, we shared our favorite scenes, we joked, we had a lot of fun with our significant others. Ahem.

And I made some tee shirts.  <- click that y'all! 

At first I was just joking. But y'all, they SOLD. And they're still selling. They're selling so well I'm making more with them than I was with eBay or the scout shirts. So I expanded. I added some other designs to my new Etsy store - no, I didn't put them in the same store as the Girl Scout stuff, silly, these babies needed a whole different kind of showcase - and I'm absolutely having a ball with it.

I gave some love to marriage equality and Neil Patrick Harris - two subjects I hold hear to my heart. And every day I'm putting up more and more. It's so much fun I have to literally tell myself to stop working and go spend time with my family.

So eBay can sit on it. I'm done.

A Year With Florida Genbu-Kai Karate

It's not often that I consider using my blog as a place to actually discredit a local business. Like, if I get bad service at a restaurant I'm not going to run here and let y'all know about it or if someone does bad plumbing work I'm not going to shout it from the rooftops. But when someone tries to bully me or my children, I think it's time to use the blog.

THE BEGINNING

Last May, The Man and I decided to enroll the boys in a karate school. We figured it would be good discipline and exercise for the boys. The Man had trained his whole childhood and earned the rank of black belt when he was a teenager. Though he hasn't formally trained in years, he continues to practice on his own and I truly believe that karate has made him a stronger, more disciplined and focused adult.

Earlier that year I had taken the kids to the movies and was given a business card for Florida Genbu-Kai Karate. At the time the school was located in Royal Palm Beach, which was pretty close to us out here in the boondocks. So we went and checked the school out.

Sensei Keith Moore gave our boys a trial lesson and the boys really enjoyed it so I decided to sign them up.

SIGNING THE CONTRACT

Now, my spidey sense was tingling when I was presented with a year long contract for the boys. It seemed kind of irrational to sign a year long contract committing a 7 year old and an 11 year old to any activity for an entire year. But the boys were so excited and I really felt good about Florida Genbu-Kai, so I went ahead and did it.  The school would have our credit card on file and take tuition out at the beginning of each month. I begrudgingly signed.

That was my first mistake.

Now, when we signed the contract I was told that after the boys passed their yellow belt test, there would be an additional class during the week for sparring practice, but that there would be no extra charge for additional classes. 


THE FIRST HITCH IN THE ROAD

Oddly enough when the boys took and passed their test, Sensei Keith Moore and his wife, Karin, began harassing me to pay an increased tuition rate. When I refused, I was given the option to call a list of potential customers and try to book appointments for the dojo. In the spirit of helping out the dojo, I agreed to call this list. The list I was given was over 6 months old and the people on it often didn't remember adding their name to whatever fishbowl or ballot box the school had collected them in. I had terrible results calling them and only managed to book one appointment.


There we were, committed to the school for a year. There were times it was tough to keep it up, honestly. Goober had to give up football for the season because karate conflicted with practice times, but he truly loved going. Bug had practically no time after school before karate and complained constantly about having to go three days a week. It was a lot of dropping everything we were doing to rush to karate, a lot of driving, a lot of sitting around waiting for the boys to be done, and a few minor injuries.

THE SPAM

My email inbox began to get regular emails from Sensei Keith Moore, most of them not related to karate at all - but silly forwards and chain emails. All emails were sent to all of the dojo customers with all email addresses clearly apparent to all readers. It irked me, but we had made a commitment and we were following through. I didn't want to bring up these "petty" little things as complaints because I started to fear that Sensei Keith Moore and his wife Karin might treat the boys differently if their mother were labeled a "problem-parent"... so I kept my mouth shut and carried on.

THE FUNDRAISING

My spidey sense started tingling again when I was presented with a fundraising pamphlet that asked the boys to sell Domino's Pizza (or Papa Johns? I don't remember) to their friends and family. This fundraiser was presented to us on the very first day of the new school year. You know the day... when you're overwhelmed with new routines and paperwork and school uniforms and drop off circles. Not a great time to ask a mom to sell pizzas to help supplement their FOR PROFIT business that I was currently contracted to support.

Later on, just before Christmas, I was handed an envelope containing 20 raffle tickets with a note asking the boys to sell them for a dollar a piece for a 50/50 raffle splitting the prize with the school. In other words, the school was asking my boys to participate in a gambling effort so Sensei Moore could have more money for Christmas.

Now, I understand fundraising for non-profit organizations. And I can even understand if Florida  Genbu-Kai  had sent a letter home stating that more funds were needed for new equipment or maybe scholarships for underprivileged kids. Something. But to just send home raffle tickets with no explanation of what the money is to be used for is not acceptable. Especially since the parents can only presume that the money is just going directly into the owner's pocket. We did not sell any tickets.

THE MOVE

So came the winter holiday. Florida  Genbu-Kai  was closed for a few weeks due to the holidays and because they were moving from Royal Palm Beach into a new location in Wellington. We were told that we would receive a credit on our tuition for February to make up for the lost time.

Before we could even address the issue of the dojo being closed for the better part of a month, I received an email from Sensei Keith Moore in the second week of January. This email was sent to every customer of the dojo - just as they all had been. This email shocked me. I'll just post it here in all its glory.

Yeah. Now, even though we hadn't been with the school for a year at that point I was horrified that Sensei Keith Moore would publicly admonish his students and their families like that. Was Florida  Genbu-Kai  really the kind of place I wanted to be sending my boys?

I had to sit on my hands not to respond to that email. Thank goodness the school was still closed at the time because it was several days later before I actually had to face Sensei Keith Moore and I had calmed down a bit at the time. He still had my boys in a contract for the next 4 months and I didn't want to make waves.

When February came, our tuition was charged with no discount. Again, I didn't say anything. I'm sure it would have really hurt the school to have to discount tuition for every member and so I just kept my mouth shut.

THE SAD, SAD ENDING

So finally, we were nearing April's end and the subject of  renewing the contract came up. After such a year with the dojo, The Man and I had decided we would not renew the contract, but would be fine with Florida  Genbu-Kai  taking payments month to month for the boys to continue with the school. This was solely because Goober really loved the school and Bug had set a goal to get to a purple belt for himself. We didn't want to keep the boys from reaching their goals and we knew they were happy at the school.

So I approached Sensei Keith Moore to try to compromise with him on signing a year long contract again for the boys. I mean, our card was on file, they got their tuition at the beginning of the month, he had nothing to lose, right?

He stood tall next to me, arms crossed, and told me a story of another kid who refused to sign his contract. "I kicked the kid out" he said, seriously.

Well then.

Sensei Keith Moore refused to compromise. Month to month was not acceptable, a shorter term was not acceptable, nothing but that year contract would suffice for him.

On the last Friday of the month, when I picked the boys up from the school, Karin Moore, Sensei's wife was there. She stopped me and again attempted to get me to sign a contract. I let her know that we weren't comfortable with it and that Bug didn't want to continue for a full year anyhow. She turned directly to Bug and started making a deal with him about what he would do at home while Goober was at class.

I felt like I was in the twilight zone. I didn't know how many times I had to tell them that we were not signing a contract. Not for Bug, not for Goober, not for anyone.

We did not return to the school for the class the next day that would have been their last class. I, honestly, just wasn't willing to be pressured into signing a contract again.

Today I received a new email from Sensei Keith Moore.

I will edit this one slightly because it has some personal information in it, but you'll get the gist:

"I am presuming being we have not seen nor heard anything from you or the kids, that you have decided to remove them from our program. While I understand, and can respect, we were hoping that we could at least work something out in trying to keep Goober in the program. Please remember the opportunity we gave you in making phone calls to new prospective students. While your efforts were minimal at best, we stuck to our word, and never increased the boys tuition with the hopes you were trying to get in new students to help offset your children's tuition. Unfortunately, we never saw any results on your behalf. 

I know you asked us to continue charging your card, as we have in the past, at least for Goober's tuition, however this is not legal, and unfortunately we could not honor this request. 

It is a shame, and I hope you and your husband realize my disappointment in both of you for making this decision. Obviously, my time and efforts in helping the boys get to were they are at, was not considered. Maybe both Bug and Goober, can learn more from their dad who watches martial arts videos. 

Best of luck in your future endeavors!

Sensei"

I sit here with my mouth open in shock. Would you want to enroll your children at Florida  Genbu-Kai ? I will save you the response I sent back to him and the drivel he replied to that with. Suffice it to say, I said my piece and he weakly attempted to argue back. 

Oh wait, I will include one quote from his reply to my confronting him about his "shame on you" email in January:

"To yell at our dojo family for not taking the time to help us move, being I'm the Sensei, it is my right!"

All I can say is that our decision to NOT renew a contract with these people is one of the smartest ones we've made.

Where the Spaz jumps on the soapbox and the bandwagon in the same post - Social Media is a Lie!

Every few months I go all haywire with social media. I start tweeting real, actual tweets rather than just the automated ones I've set up to tweet when I list new stuff on eBay or write a new post. I update my facebook page. I get all tweetdecky and diggy and read some blogs and try to figure out how to actually make it work for me.

And then it overwhelms me, I throw up my hands and go back into Internet hibernation for another couple of months.

So yesterday began the ascent of my social media climb for the current term (we'll call it the 2nd quarter of 2012) and I started up the Tweet Deck and started interacting and reading some blogs.  And I think today I'm already on the descent. It appears now, the thing to do is to follow people on Instagram. For the love of all that is holy, now I need to constantly be snapping pictures of my life, adding cool hipster filters to make my life look more edgy than it actually is, and pester people to follow me on yet another social media site.

Will the insanity never end?

I'll probably jump on board. At least for a little while. I can't resist the pull. Now Munchkin's horseback riding lessons can have a faded vintage feel to them and Goober's football practice can look even brighter and more vibrant than it actually is when bathed solely in Florida's super hot sun.

Because that's all this really is, isn't it? People portraying a little glimpse into their lives - but constantly editing it so no one ever sees what is real. Which only feeds our delusions that our lives aren't as good as the ones that we are viewing through our little LCD screens. So we buy more, we do more, we feed the monster that is consumerism and hope that we, too, can live in a hipster filtered world where everything is bathed in cool blue tones and cleanliness.

I'll update with my info when I've jumped on the bandwagon so y'all can envy the delusion I create for you.

A week at the gym with the Spaz - and how I'm disassociating myself with my ass.

Monday

I've been saying I was going to do it for a few months now but it wasn't until Monday that I actually did it. I joined the gym and went. 

I've needed to do this for myself for a long time. I've made so many excuses as to why I can't make it, why I shouldn't go, why something else is more important. But the simple fact is that there isn't much more important than being healthy - and I'm not healthy this way. That, and the other day when I thought someone was following me and turned around and realized it was just my ass, I knew something needed to be done. 

I am fat. Crazy fat. Morbidly fat. Like, I could lose 100 pounds and not die. 

That's as specific as I plan to get about my weight for right now. You understand. 

So anyway, I went to the gym on Monday and brought my awesome friend, Julie. We had a great time walking on the treadmill, going through the express circuit weight training thing, and laughing.  In the middle of the circuit a trainer named Omar came over to me to tell me "You're doing it wrong" and offer some helpful hints. I was feeling all gung-ho at the time so I booked a training session with him on Wednesday. 

Afterward we treated ourselves to a beer at the sports bar around the corner and I left pumped and ready to go back the next day with another amazing friend of mine, Niki.

Tuesday

Niki is a different breed of girl. She's cute, blonde, athletic, and fit. She's the girl that comes into the gym and other girls give her the stink eye. She is like the epitome of motivation for me. 

So Niki and I walk into the gym the next day and the guy behind the counter immediately starts flirting. Being with Niki is like walking into another dimension. It's like getting glasses that let you see into a whole other world that you've heard about but never truly experienced. I bet Niki has never paid for a drink in her entire life.

By the end of my workout with Niki I wanted to die. After we had finished our "warm-up" on the treadmill and then completed a vigorous session of the circuit weight training thing she looked straight at me and very seriously said "Are you ready to do cardio now?"

I told her I couldn't even look at her. 

And on to the elliptical machine I climbed. It was an ass kicking and I was tired. But I left feeling good about what I had done and ready to come back for Omar the next day.

Wednesday

Wednesday I was treated to the pleasure of both Julie and Niki joining me for my session with Omar. Except Omar was engaged with another client and passed us all on to Stephen, who from here on out will be referred to as Sadist With A Nice Smile. SWANS for short. 

SWANS had us warm up on the treadmill with an incline that reminded me vaguely of climbing a small mountain. When we were all done with that he handed us each a 10 pound weight and told us to climb the stairs. "No biggie" I thought... until he mentioned that we were to climb two steps at a time. That sucked.  After that grueling hell, SWANS had us do stretches, and squats, and lunges, and floor work, and more squats, and more floor work, and I tried desperately not to pass out or puke or start crying and telling him about my childhood like a contestant on The Biggest Loser. Niki did not break a sweat. 

After we were done with all that he said "Are you ready to do cardio now?"

I couldn't even look at SWANS.

Thursday

Yesterday I felt as though my legs might fail me at any minute. Getting out of bed hurt, using the bathroom hurt, existing hurt.  I did my errands and ran around with the kids, had a girl scout meeting and attempted not to cry through it all. I took yesterday off from the gym and hoped that I would wake up refreshed and ready to hit it again. 

Friday

Y'all, it would take a vat of Tylenol to get rid of these muscle aches. But even though we were pressed for time, Julie and I braved the gym again today for at least a walk on the treadmill with a moderate incline. 

While I know I won't be bikini ready for summer, I do feel good about doing something about getting rid of the whole extra person I've been carrying around. I'm naming her Bertha. 

Bertha has been dragging me down for years with her "I want a Snickers bar" and "Let's skip exercise and watch TV with a bag of Ruffles." 

Bertha is such a hater and I'm sick of hanging out with her. She makes me wear clothes with elastic waistbands and makes me leery of less than supportive beach chairs. She is not my friend and I'm done with her. She keeps me from reuniting with old friends, being outgoing in social situations, and basically just keeps me from being the person I want to be. 

I'm kicking Bertha to the curb, y'all.

"It's not the easy times that make you the person you're going to be, but the hard times and how you handle them." - My Father

It's been a while since I've posted because I haven't really felt like I had anything much to say. The normal goings on of the Spaz family haven't stopped - we've had karate, and horses, and girl scouts, and family get-togethers, and camping trips, and melt downs, and messes, and all of it. I just haven't felt like reporting everything.

But today I feel like I need to reach out to a friend. A friend who I've never met in person, but who has shared her life in the blogosphere and in private groups with me and on the wonderful world we all know as facebook. Sometimes our lives seem to parallel each other and I have a special place in my heart for her.

My friend is having a tough time with her child. Her oldest child, a senior in high school... she's traveling a path I have yet to travel... so what advice can I possibly give her?

She wrote today about how she told him "I give up".... words uttered in a moment of despair but words she doesn't mean. And she wrote about how she'll never give up. My heart breaks for her and for her child because, though I'm not in that place where I have a teenage child who is experiencing a particularly painful time of growing up, I remember being one.

My parents never gave up.

When I say that to my parents, when I thank them for never giving up on me, my dad always looks at me like he can't believe I would possibly think that he could ever give up.

"Of course we never gave up on you, Beth. You're our child."

But I grew up with other kids whose parents did give up. I had friends that had no safe place to go back to when they failed the first, second, or tenth time. I had friends who struggled and fought to stay alive... and some of them didn't. I can't speak for their parents - maybe they didn't have enough to offer, maybe they couldn't handle the pressures of their own lives and therefore couldn't be there for their children. I don't know the situations. I just know that I saw kids who were falling and no one was there to pick them up.

I gave my mom and dad a hard time growing up. I was defiant, I thought I knew it all, I made all the wrong choices. I went through dark periods of sadness and confusion. I pushed my family away, I told them I didn't need them. I caused them so much pain that there is nothing I could ever do to make up for it. I loved them, I hated them, I lied, I deceived, I did things I would be ashamed to write here.

But when push came to shove, my parents were there. They were always there to pick me up and try to set me back on course when I was ready for help. They never gave up.

I don't know if my mom and dad have any idea how much I appreciate them today. I don't know if they understand how absolutely proud I am to be their daughter. I don't know if words could ever express it.

My friend, my amazing friend who is fighting for her son, some day when he has pulled through all of this darkness and come out the other side a stronger grown up man, he will turn to you with an incredulous look on his beautiful face and thank you for never giving up.