My Blank Baby Book

The other day my mom brought over my baby book. Inside the front cover was the newspaper clipping announcing my birth. The rest of the book was blank. What with being the third kid and all, I understand how filling out "firsts" becomes harder and harder. I see it with my own kids.

When I first saw it, my mom and I laughed. We joked about the empty pages. My dad said he couldn't believe she even gave it to me.

But later after they had left, I opened the book again. I was struck not by a feeling of woe is me, but of the bigger significance of the empty book. The yellowed birth announcement tucked inside the cover said "Here I am." The empty pages that followed said the possibilities for what comes next are endless. Those blank pages said to me: "Your life is yours to define. You get to decide how to fill this book of your life." I will not be defined by when I talked or walked. The fact that I wasn't potty trained by a certain age is insignificant.

It actually was a pretty powerful moment for me. Not one I'm sure my mom expected.

The fact that she gave it to me shortly after my 40th birthday, when I've done a whole lot of talking about re-inventing myself, wasn't lost on me. So here we go, no looking back. Moving forward, my book is empty and ready to be filled.

We Interrupt This Programming...

To bring you the following rant:

I woke up this morning feeling, like, well crap. That's not unusual. Most mornings are like that. In fact, most days are like that. If you asked me the last time I felt good, I'm not sure I could answer that. I don't like it. I don't like anything about the way things are going these days with this damn disease. I'm confused, I'm frustrated. No, quite frankly, I'm pissed. From the get go I understood that MS was a tricky disease. Everyone is different. No two cases are alike. Sure, there are similarities, but for the most part your reality will not be the same as the person standing next to you with the same disease.

So what that means is there are no easy, one-size-fits-all answers...for anything. So getting a read on what I'm supposed to do to try and not feel like I've been hit by a truck everyday has proven challenging. To give you an idea what I'm up against, this is kinda how it goes on a pretty regular basis.

Doctor: Take this medicine to battle fatigue and wake your brain up.
Me: Sounds good.
Doctor: Now take this one to sloooow your brain down to prevent seizures.
Me: Um, OK?

Experts: Cut down on caffeine.
Me: Check.
Same experts: Drink caffeine to fight the fatigue.
Me: Huh?

Every piece of MS literature: Exercise.
Me: Check.
Same literature: Rest.
Me: Um, but you just said....

Experts: Get enough sleep.
Me: Yes!
Same #***ing experts: But not too much.
Me: GRRRRRR

So you kinda get the idea. So on any given day, if I seem out of sorts, please be patient with me. I'm just busy trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing to make it through the day.


We now return you to your regular programming.

Things I'm Loving Right Now

In the spirit of Pinterest, and all that is good in this world, I feel I must share some of the things that I'm absolutely loving right at this moment in my life.

Danielle LaPorte is kinda my new obsession. I love her insight into life and, well, pretty much everything. This is my all-time favorite. Whenever I'm having a bad day I read it.

I love the story behind this site.


This song. And this one. And this one.

Because I'm kind of obsessed with tips and lists.

An amazing blog--and accompanying book--about keeping things in perspective.

A book I liked better than any of his others.

Lately I've been interested in stepping out of my comfort zone, tilting my head to the side to see things in a different way, and expanding my mind. That's where this site comes into play.

What are your current obsessions? If you'd like, share them with me.

One Day

One day. That's all it can take to change your life forever. One phone call. One test. One appointment. One birth. One death. One "I love you." So many moments that can change the course of our lives occur that quickly.

We often tend to think of individual days as throw aways. I'll get to it tomorrow, we say. Next week. Next year. But what if tomorrow, next week or next year were going to look completely different than today?

I remember the day I got the call--at work--telling me I had MS. 10 years later, I could tell you every detail of the call, every emotion, everything. In that one phone call, my life changed. I was not the same person I was 5 minutes before the phone rang. It happened that quick and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I'm thinking about that today because tomorrow is the start of another school year for my kids, and I'm at work. All the other moms, it seems, have taken the day to celebrate the end of summer with their kids. I chose to come to work. I had deadlines to meet, projects due, meetings to attend. But the problem is, when I look back I'll realize that none of that mattered.

I should have been home...with my kids...hosting a full-on closing ceremonies for summer break. How many times have I pushed off that one day? That day that could have created the best memory of our lives? No, I made a huge mistake today--and so many other days. When will I learn the importance of just one day?

40 is the New Me!

Tomorrow I will turn 40. For many women that's a big step to take. For me, it's really not. I've felt older than 40 for quite a few years thanks to this stupid disease. So tomorrow really shouldn't be that big of a deal for me. But it is, and here's why. Tomorrow I'm starting anew. No, I'm not going to get plastic surgery, a red convertible or have an affair. Well, other than the ones I'm already having with Joey Votto and Michael Phelps, but I digress.

You see, most of my 30s have been spent coping, adapting, changing--most of which was not of my own will. And while there have been a lot of great things in my 30s, I'm ready to move on.

I'm not going to be able to change a lot of the things that plagued me for the past 10 years. I have MS. No matter what I do, until they find a cure, I will have it. In fact, it seems fitting that I have rounded out this decade with seizures.

So I'm ready for a change. I've kind of started that change this past year with working out more, running my first half marathon, writing a book, trying new foods. But it feels like there's more I can do. And a new decade in my life feels like the perfect time to start.

What those adventures will be I'm still not sure, but I'm working on it. Maybe at some point I'll share my list, but for now it's something I need to do for myself and myself alone. Oh, sure, you'll see the process and I'll talk about things on here as they come up. But I don't want to write down some set in stone list. My list will change. In the process I hope I will change.

One of the good...no, great...things about turning 40 is that not only can I reinvent myself, but I can do so with the knowledge and wisdom I have gained--both good and bad--from my life thus far. And one of the most important things I've learned is that I control my destiny. I control how I choose to live this life. I control how I react to all the things that life throws at me. I can sink or I can rise above. As I float into my 40s, I definitely choose to ride the waves and see where they take me. So watch out world, because 40 is no longer the new 30. No, as of tomorrow, 40 becomes the new ME.

What the Plank?

On the heels of an awesome workout in which I ran/walked a 5K in under 45 minutes, which was huge for me, I decided to take it down a notch and indulge in some yoga. You know, decompress and stretch the ol' body out. It was the first time I've done yoga in, oh, about forever, so I was excited to get back in the groove.

Mark dropped me off at the appointed time--yes, I still can't drive yet--and I boldly walked into the room where I would once again become one with my body. As I walked in and grabbed a mat, the instructor--who was about a size -2--announced that the yoga instructor was ill, so she would be filling in and we would be doing Pilates. She said you can either stay or go.

Not really knowing what Pilates is--when will I learn to find out about these things before I say yes--I decided to give it a try. Bad move. The older lady next to me, who had also come for the yoga class, decided to stick around, too. We plopped our mats down front and center. Second bad move.

Class started with stretching. I totally got this, I thought. But then it all went wrong. Suddenly I was doing weird scissor kicks while it felt like my stomach was being ripped apart. To add insult to injury, we were doing it in front of a huge--and I mean floor to ceiling--mirror. Yeah, imagine that. The whole time, Miss -2 kept saying things like, "Doesn't that feel good?"

"Well, actually no. It hurts like hell," I wanted to scream at her.

She offered three levels of difficulty for each of the exercises, and I always took the easy road. Of course the easy road also led to hell. The other two just led further in to hell. The entire time I was suffering, I kept a watchful eye on my neighbor, seriously afraid for her well-being. I thought about getting up and leaving halfway through the torture, but that mirror and mistake number two, so everyone behind me would see me leave and probably spend the rest of the class ridiculing me kept me in place.

I'm not sure if I blacked out at all, but I do know I implored God's help numerous times. Apparently he was busy yesterday.

At the end of class, I slowly pulled myself off the floor and then helped my neighbor up. I resisted the urge to tell her I didn't think she tried hard enough. I collected my belongings and limped out the door to my awaiting chariot. I was proud that I had done it, but well aware that next time they switch a class on me I'm running for the door.

Me and Michael Phelps

For the past week, I've been religiously watching the Olympics. I mostly watch to gawk at the male swimmers, but I do cheer for the other less ripped people, too. I'm not that shallow.

I've heard interview after interview with Michael Phelps where the reporter harps on the fact that he's not as fast, not as determined, not as driven as he's been in the past. And it makes me mad. Give the guy a break. He's done more since 2000 than most of us do in our lifetime. I want to scream "Lay off my boyfriend, who doesn't know he's my boyfriend!"

On a more personal level, I've talked on this blog about how hard it's been to stay motivated since the Princess Half Marathon. You work up to this event and then once it's over...then what. The prospect of going back to "just training" seems like a letdown. Why bother? When you don't have anything driving you, staring you in the face, what's the motivation?

So I slacked. I'd go to the gym when I had time. It wasn't a priority. I walked instead of running. I made excuses.

But no more. I signed up for a 5K and told myself that I'm going to run the...whole...thing. (I do know that a 5K is 3.1 miles. It is, right?) Anyway, I'm getting back in the saddle. I'd be lying if I said Michael Phelps and the Olympics had nothing to do with it. Not to mention, how could I expect a four-time Olympian to give me a second look if I'm not in tip top shape? So if you're looking for me, check the gym. I'm back in training.