Well, Hello Guilt

The other night I walked for a solid hour on the treadmill. Just a month or so into this challenge, it was a huge accomplishment for me. Yay for me, right? So then why did I feel so crappy when I was done? Physically I felt great. Mentally, not so much.

It's something that's been nagging at me ever since I started this journey. It's guilt. Guilt that I shouldn't be wasting my time on this. Guilt that I'm even considering going to Disney without my kids next February. Guilt that I should be upstairs or at home spending time with Mark and the kids instead of downstairs on the treadmill or out walking the neighborhood. Guilt that Mark is left to take care of things while I'm doing said walking.

As a working mom, I'm no stranger to guilt. It's been a constant in my life since that day 12+ years ago when I drove to my office three months after Maddie was born. Ever since, I have been constantly lamenting how when I'm at home I should be getting work done and when I'm at work I should be at home spending time with my kids. It's an epic back and forth battle that will never be settled. I get that.

Heap on top of that a whole bunch of guilt for having this damn disease in the first place and you have a whole lot of guilt going on. I know I can't help that getting MS part, but the guilt is still there.

But I also know that I'm no good to anyone else if I don't take care of myself. After all, an hour on the treadmill sure beats an entire day wiped out in bed with overwhelming fatigue. Not that it makes it any easier, but it keeps me going. Now excuse me, I have to go. My IPod and treadmill are calling my name.

Look Ma, I'm Running

Yesterday, we were heading to my parent's house to help with some things. Bummed that I hadn't gotten to do my morning walk on the treadmill, Mark made the suggestion that I walk to my parent's and meet him and the kids there.

It made perfect sense, but the thought scared the bejesus out of me. My walk home from my parents house one night a few weeks ago had been kind of a disaster to say the least. And this time I would be walking in broad daylight. As in everyone would be able to see and recognize me.

I wasn't certain I was up for it. I had walked outside since then, but I had the stroller with me for support and balance. Thanks to a late cold snap, it was too cold to take Kacey with me this time and I certainly wasn't about to push an empty stroller. I tried to talk my way out of it, but Mark kept on me. "You can't keep walking in the basement forever," he said. "Eventually you have to go outside again."

After a while, I relented. So I bundled up--because I hate being cold, just ask my husband and kids--and hit the road. I headed up our street with my sweatshirt hood up to conceal my identity and my head down to focus on my steps.

Halfway through the walk I made either the very brave or very stupid decision to pick my head up. Despite the cold, the sun was shining and it was actually a pretty day. Spring was poking its way through the ground and beginning to form on the trees. I picked up my pace a little.

Three-quarters of the way, Mark and the kids drove past. They all waved. Maddie yelled to me out the window. My very own cheering section.

Suddenly I felt stronger. My balance seemed sturdier.

"I can do this," I told myself.

And then it happened. I started to run. Now I think the last time I've seriously run was in high school before I had my left knee scoped. But I was running. I'm sure it wasn't pretty. I'm sure it wasn't very fast. But I did it. I didn't fall. I didn't collapse. I didn't make a fool of myself. I did it. And now I know that I can.

That's been the best part of this adventure, I think. So even if I don't finish the race in Disney, I've already done things I've been telling myself I couldn't for nine years. That alone is worth it.

Budget Blues

Last night when I was paying bills and playing around with Microsoft Money, because I'm weird and I find it amusing to analyze my budget at least once a week, I made a horrible discovery--we went over our budget on eating out this month. Egads. Now anyone who knows me knows how much I dislike spending money. Case in point, I still own--and have been known to wear--some of the same clothes I had in high school. And one of my favorite shows is Til Debt Do Us Part. Seriously.

But I digress. So when I saw our budget fail, I immediately made a decision that I was going to conduct an experiment. I've read about this type of experiment in various blogs, but never felt brave enough to try it. The challenge: No eating out for 30 straight days. The idea intrigues me, but at the same time scares the bejesus out of me because it means I am sentencing myself to 30 days of planning, shopping for and preparing meals. I can do this, I told myself.

In an attempt to take some of the heat off myself, I went to the troops for meal ideas. "What are some dinners you'd like to have?" I asked the kids. "We'll go week by week."

"Tacos" said Alex. O.K., that's doable. Now we're getting somewhere.

"Hot dogs and Macaroni and Cheese" replied Maddie. Ew, and not very healthy, but we'll go with it for now.

"Pink pancakes" insisted Riley. Mental note: Never try to be a nice, crafty, cool mom again and color the kids pancakes. They will then forever more demand it and fight over who's turn it is to pick the color.

"I don't care" said Mark. Seriously? Thanks a lot.

O.K., let's move on to week two.

"Tacos"
"Orange pancakes. It's my turn to pick the color."
"Hot dogs"
"I don't care"

Grrrrrr. Let's try this again, shall we?

"Tacos. That's my favorite. Wait, is it my turn to pick for pancakes? Because if it is I want blue pancakes."
"The stuff with guts." That would be manicotti, Maddie, and it's cheese, not guts.
"Can we have hot dogs?"
"Whatever"

"Forget it," I snapped. "Get in the car. We're going out to eat."

Next month I'm raising the dining budget.

Counting My Blessings

 

The last couple of weeks I have been trying REALLY hard to focus on the positive things in my life. Ayone who knows me understands what a challenge that can be for me. I've always been a glass half empty kind of girl. But I'm trying.

So at the end of every day, I have been listing five blessings for that day in my journal. Sure, Mark, my kids and my family are all part of that daily routine, but I'm digging a little bit deeper and trying to find less obvious blessings. And you know what? The more I dig, the more I find.

For instance, yesterday I played on the Wii Fit for the first time in months. And while the mean lady trainer on it kept yelling at me because my balance has obviously gone downhill over those months and there's no place in my profile for me to indicate that I have a disease that affects my balance so she'll back off, I did lose a few pounds from the last time I hopped on the Balance Board. So, in the words of the great Carl Spackler from Caddyshack,"I got that goin' for me. Which is nice."

So why not join me. What are your blessings today?

It's So On

Yesterday I went on the Run Disney site to see if the dates for the 2012 race had been set yet. Lo and behold, they were. (Race weekend is February 24-26, 2012. Woohoo!) Thanks to the handy dandy clock they have on the site, that means I now officially have 342 days to get my butt--and the rest of this pathetic body--ready to run.

But then, to make matters worse, I decided to check out some of the pictures, videos and times from this year's race. Big mistake. As I perused the times, I wasn't bothered so much by the insanely short times of the race winners. These are obviously hardcore runners/athletes after all. Looking at their times in relation to what I'm capable of was apples to oranges.

And then I saw it--the drop box in the upper left hand corner titled "Age Groups and Divisions." Stupidly, I clicked the drop down menu to discover age groups ranging from 13 and under to...wait for it...Women 80 and over. Yes, you read that correctly.

Surely they just have to have that age category for equal opportunity purposes, right? Um, no. Turns out there was an entrant in that category and at the age of 82 she finished the race with a chip time of 3:21:59.

Oh, and just FYI, there were 12 finishers in the 70-74 category and 2 in the 75-79 category.

Sooo....if I had any thoughts of being able to talk my way out of this one, those old ladies just squashed them. Thanks. Now I'm stuck. There's no turning back. I have to do this now. I refuse to be outrun by someone more than twice my age.

I'm only kidding, of course. I am amazed and in awe of these women's accomplishments. I pray that one day I'll be the one that the young whippersnappers are grumbling about because I just kicked their butts. No, those women whom I have never met, have given me inspiration that even this horribly out of shape, mostly unmotivated, fountain Pepsi addicted, brain-lesioned 38 year old can do this. I think.

5 Lessons Learned on the Treadmill

Since I started regularly walking on the treadmill, there are a few things I have learned--some the hard way. So, consider this my public service announcement for all of you, free of charge.

1) You can not sing at a normal volume while wearing headphones. After about the third time Mark sent one of the kids downstairs to make sure I was O.K. and not yelling for them to call 911, I stopped singing along with my IPod. Apparently you sing much louder than you think when you can't hear yourself. Who knew?

2) You can not dance on a treadmill. No, seriously, I don't care how well you remember the dance moves for "Backstreet's Back"  or "Bye, Bye, Bye" by N'Sync, trying to bust a move on a moving treadmill is just dangerous--and stupid. Trust me.

3) You are not dying. All those aches and pains you are feeling are not signs of your impending death. It is your body saying, "What the hell?" for all those years you used the treadmill as nothing more than an extra place to hang laundry. In the case of a real emergency, put on your headphones and start singing. I guarantee someone will come to your aid quickly.

4) Drink with caution. Moving treadmill + balance issues + thirst = Powerade shower.

5) Figure rest stops into walking time. Keeping well hydrated while exercising is important. After four kids, it is also potentially dangerous. (Mental note: Contact Disney for bathroom locations along race route; start clipping Depends coupons from paper.)

And as a bonus tip, remember to take your sweatshirt off before you start walking. If you do not, you will quickly become too warm, try to take said sweatshirt off while walking AND still wearing your headphones and either fall or strangle yourself.

So remember: Be active, but be safe.

O.K., God, I Hear You

I'm a sucker for inspirational quotes. I have them hanging in my office at work and at home. I have books of them. I like them because they remind me of what's important, what I should be focusing on. They remind me, on days when I'm wallowing in myself--like a lot of days recently--to snap out of it and take a look at the big picture. They help me keep this crazy life in perspective.

I'm also a believer that sometimes God speaks to us rather subtly. We just have to keep our eyes and ears open.

And recently that's what's been happening. Just when I've needed reassurance, inspiration, perspective, I keep finding it--in quotes, ads, billboards, sermons, everywhere. And they all seem to speak to whatever I need on that day, at that time, in that moment. For instance, last week as I was struggling with panic attacks and the overwhelming reality of how my life is changing, my sister, Beth, sent me this quote:

“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is a quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow’.”

Or the other day I was surfing the Web, and as often happens when you're just following one link to the next, I found myself on this web site. I started looking around and found a shirt with the following saying:

"The journey is the destination."

I loved it. It spoke to me. I'm not even sure exactly why. Maybe it was because it seems my whole life has been about journeys--my journey as a woman, writer, mom, wife, MS patient.

My kids and I watched the movie Ramona and Beezus the other day featuring this song.

Or during the memorial service for a friend's mom this past weekend, the pastor said that what makes someone a hero is not that they aren't afraid, but that they go forward despite their fears. I don't remember the exact quote because I was in the back of church comforting Kacey, but I sure do remember the message. And it hit home.

This post on the blog Zen habits (not even sure how I ended up on that site--providence?), had the following sentence: "You already have everything you need to be happy, right here and right now."

Lately I've been inundated with signs and messages that everything is going to be O.K., that I'm stronger than I think, that this too shall pass. Every day I find that I'm learning something new, something profound. Sometimes I learn it from a friend, my kids, a quote--or a T shirt slogan. But they help, each in its own way. Thanks, God.

Epic Mom Fail

Have you ever had one of those mom moments when you feel like you completely and utterly have failed? Well, I had one of those yesterday.

It's not a secret that starting this shot regiment has not been easy. They hurt, I'm crabby, I cry a lot and I've been battling panic attacks--which may or may not be a side effect of the medicine. That last side effect is what led to my mom fail.

The other night I was trying to explain to Mark what it felt like.

"I feel like I'm going to die."

I thought we were alone. I thought it was just us. If I didn't, I never would have said it. But apparently we weren't. My oldest daughter, Maddie, had heard. I knew she had. I saw the look on her face.

The effects of MS on my kids has been the hardest part of this disease. I see the way they look at me--afraid, nervous, worried. I've tried hard to maintain an "everything is fine and normal" attitude with them, but sometimes it's just not possible.

So I wasn't overly surprised when I got a call from school yesterday saying that Maddie was sick. "She said she feels like she's going to throw up," said the nurse. I know the feeling well. It's exactly how I feel when I'm worried. Maddie may be a clone of her father in so many ways, but when it comes to being a worrier, she's all me.

After I picked her up and brought her home, I asked her point blank if she was worried about something. I didn't need to ask. I knew the answer. I've heard it from her before.

"I'm worried about you."

Nothing quite cuts at a mom's heart like hearing your child say that. It's just not supposed to be that way. I sat and explained what I had meant when I said that, how I was going to be fine, how this is going to be a process for us all. And then we sat together for a long time, just me and my--not so little anymore, but always my baby--girl.

Today she's better. I'm a little better. I think that's the way this journey is going to be--day by day, step by step, but hand in hand the whole way.

What to Wear, What to Wear?

So apparently A LOT of people in the Princess Half marathon dress up as their favorite Disney characters for the race. Duh, makes sense, right? Problem is, my favorite Disney character is Piglet. But I don't see that costume as being very conducive to running 13.1 miles, do you?

So here's a video of some of the costumes from this year. What do you think? Should I go for a costume? If so, which character?

My Prince

This has been a tough week. It's the first week of my shots, and it sucks. They burn, they're inconvenient and they make me sore. Add to that a stomach bug that could or could not have been a side effect of the meds and some pretty painful injection site reactions two of the five times I've injected, and you have a really crappy week.

And the only reason I have gotten through it is Mark. He really is my prince. Let me tell you why.

On my second day, I injected in my right thigh. (I have since learned that thighs are the worst injection sites.) It burned. It hurt. It immediately began to swell up. Was it because the depth setting was wrong? Had I not done it right? I bent over in pain and defeat and started to cry.

Mark, ever at my side through this journey, decided to point out to me that the injection site had swollen into the shape of a heart. I thought he was just being sweet and trying to make me feel better. But he was right. I looked at it and it was in the perfect shape of a heart. How sweet.

But then he opened his mouth again.

"If one of these things swells up into the shape of Jesus, I'm totally taking a picture and making money off of it."

Thanks, dear. I love you, too.

But you know what? Suddenly I didn't feel the pain anymore. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself. No, I was too busy laughing--because of Mark. He always knows how to do that.

He may not be romantic, and his methods of comforting me may be a bit unorthodox, but, you know what, they always work. Yep, he's definitely a prince--my prince.