A Mother-Son Moment

I had the most amazing thing happen to me this week. No, I didn't win the lottery or the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, though that would have been nice. It was even better than both of those things.

You see, when Alex and I were leaving soccer practice the other night and were walking to the car I instinctively reached my hand out for his. As a parent, my natural instinct is to grab for my kids' hands when cars are present. I fully expected him to bristle at the gesture, or pull his hand away. But you know what? He didn't. He grabbed hold of it...willingly...right there...in front of his teammates, the teams practicing after us and all their parents. Did I mention he's 9?

After the initial surprise I wondered if I should let go lest any of the boys see. After all, I'm painfully aware that Alex knows all too well what it feels like to be on the wrong side of a joke or teasing.

But I couldn't let go--his hand, growing ever bigger, tucked in mine. As we walked, Alex looked up at me, discussing practice, all the while tightly gripping my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a nine-year-old boy to be doing.

I grabbed his hand tighter, knowing that moments like these may soon disappear. And so we walked, hand in hand, mom and son, for all to see.

Kickin' it Old School

I'm not a big fan of summer. Never have been. I'm one of those girls who burns, blisters and goes right back to the color of oh, someone who has lived in a cave for about 100 years. Add to that the fact that heat and MS don't like each other--at all--and the fact that hotter than h.e.double hockey sticks here in Cincinnati for, oh, about the last month, and it's no surprise that I haven't been doing much exercising.

Sure, I've done some swimming, but I've never been much of a pool person and then there's this whole issue.

If there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that I feel better and am more pleasant when I exercise. So since I haven't been able to do much said exercising, you can ask my family about my mood. No, better yet, strike that. I'm not sure I want to hear what they have to say.

Anyway, the other night when we were at the pool, I hopped on the swings with the kids. Now I can't tell you the last time I was on a swing. But I can tell you that I used muscles working that swing that I obviously haven't been using. I know because every one of those muscles hurt REALLY bad the next day. Funny thing is, the same thing happened after playing Let's Dance with the kids on the Wii.

So I got to thinking. I find running/walking boring...really boring. Same routes, same music, etc. But I need to exercise. I just feel better when I do, plain and simple. So I'm currently working on developing a workout for myself that takes it back a little to the time when I spent sunrise to sunset outside, well, working out. Even though I didn't realize it at the time.

So if you see me outside roller skating, playing freeze tag or riding my bike, feel free to join in. I'm just playing, I mean, exercising.

Costume Conundrum

Two weeks ago when my family and I headed out for our vacation at Walt Disney World, I had one mission. No, not to have a magical time with my family, but rather to find myself one of those nifty princess costumes I saw all the runners wearing during last year’s Princess Half Marathon. Now anyone who knows me knows how much I hate to spend money—I mean really hate to spend money. So the fact that I was willing to plunk down some hard earned cash for something that in all likelihood I will only wear once in my life was in and of itself a bit of a miracle.

I started my hunt at, where else, Magic Kingdom—home of all things Disney-y and princess-y, right? Wrong. I went into the first store and wandered around. Sure, there were tons and tons of princess dresses and skirts--for little girls. In the adult section? Not so much.

“Excuse me,” I said to one of the workers. “I’m going to run the Princess Half Marathon in February and they always have such cool costumes. Where can I get one of those?”

I expected her to immediately whisk me off to the princess costume section that I obviously had missed on my first look around. Um, no. Instead I got a big ol’ blank stare.

O.K., maybe I just had the wrong store or the wrong worker. After all, she did seem a little young. Or maybe it was because she was seasonal and didn’t really know the merchandise.

I tried another store, and got another blank stare. Or maybe it was more of a “What kind of sicko are you?” kind of stare. I’m not really sure.

Not to be deterred, though, I pressed on. Two more stores. Two more stares.

Finally, in desperation, I grabbed the XL size of the kids skirt and tried to stuff myself into it. I quickly discovered that I apparently haven’t been training hard enough. In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever looked more un-princessy than I did in that Snow White skirt.

Most magical place on earth? Yeah right. If it was that skirt would have fit.

And so this princess left Disney--costumeless and a little uninspired knowing that if I was going to become a princess for this race it was entirely up to me. Not a pleasant realization for someone who was the only Girl Scout in the troop who had her badges stapled on. And the last time I used a sewing machine I accidentally put the needle through my finger. (Did you know that sucker comes flying down if you accidentally press your leg against that thingy underneath the machine? Yeah, take it from me, it does.)

So here I stand, costumeless, but undeterred nonetheless. Stay tuned for what comes next. It could get interesting.

Work, Interrupted

Two months. That's how long it's been since I've posted on here. I'm not happy or proud of that. Two months since life--work, health, me--went haywire and got in the way of, well, life.

My near breaking point came two weeks ago, on the eve of my family's vacation to Disney. The night before we left I sat up until all hours of the night trying to finish up all the work I hadn't gotten to or that should be done while I was away. Two weeks. What was I thinking? But whether I liked it or not, within hours we were headed to Disney. Trust me, I was feeling way more Grumpy than Happy.

The anxiety continued as the miles passed between home and our destination. I can't believe I forgot to do that. Did I send that e-mail? In fact, the first night when we stopped, I rejoiced at the free Internet access our hotel offered. When my youngest daughter woke up at 4 a.m., I volunteered to walk her in the lobby--where the computer sat. But then as I sat there alone in the lobby--aside from the desk clerk--checking my e-mail and bouncing my baby girl on my lap in the wee hours of the a.m., I suddenly stopped. What was I doing?

Down the hall slept three kids who had been waiting for this trip for months and here I was wondering if I scheduled a meeting.

The next day we arrived at Disney and to both my sheer horror and my delight discovered that there was no Wi-Fi. I would be completely unplugged for two weeks. Darn those sneaky Disney folks and their backhanded ploy for making me focus on and enjoy my vacation.

But guess what? Their ploy worked, and it was the best thing that's happened to me in months. My family and I played games, took naps and swam, all in addition to visiting the parks. My kids and husband had my undivided attention, something I'm embarrassed to say they haven't had in far too long. I also did things that I haven't done in far too long, such as laughing until I almost wet my pants, which I highly recommend--the hysterical laughing part, not the wetting your pants part.

I also think it was no coincidence that while we were there I was reading "Life is a Verb" by Patti Digh. I'm a huge fan of her blog 37 days, which I highly recommend. Her message is one we all could stand to hear.

For two weeks, I stepped off the treadmill that my life had become and just stopped. God, I needed that. It's amazing how quickly you can regain your focus when you just slow down, unplug and reconnect with what really matters. Try it.

Tomorrow I start back to work after my brief hiatus (yes, on the other side of my vacation two weeks now seems too brief). I'm pretty certain it's going to be overwhelming. The number of e-mails I had facing me when I got home was enough to freak me out. But it's O.K. I'm rested, ready and recharged.

Sometimes You Can't Go Back...

And sometimes you just shouldn't. I was thinking of this the other night when our family went to the library. As I was looking for a good book to read, I came across my all-time favorite book. I haven't read it in years, so I snatched it off the shelf and hurried to check it out.

When I got home I mentally prepared to dive into this classic. And then I remembered the banana debacle.


For years, I used to tell Mark about how when I was a Girl Scout we used to make these amazing Banana Boat desserts when we would go camping. I explained how they were the most amazing dessert....ever.

You have to try it, I told him. He bedgrudgingly agreed--as he so often does. So we made them. And in one bite my childhood began to unravel. Do you have any idea how incredibly gross a warm mushy banana with scorch marks on it is? Even if you do cram it full of chocolate chips and marshmallows.

So now I'm scared to death to turn to that first page. I'm afraid it won't be as good, or that after all these years I'll see things in a completely different light.

But part of my new journey has been about pushing forward--despite my doubts and fears. So I'm digging into the book. The banana boats, though, I'm perfectly happy leaving in my past.

I'm So Vain

And, yes, this post is all about me. It is, after all, my blog. (If you didn't get that reference, shame on you. Now click here and educate yourself.)

One of the side effects of Copaxone is a permanent indentation in the skin at injection sites. So, let's see, daily injection, 7 injection sites, for, oh, the rest of my life. That more or less equals more dimples than a golf ball. In short, thanks to these shots, I've got a better shot at gracing the cover of Golf Digest than Sports Illustrated.

And that's what was on my mind the other day when I went bathing suit shopping. As if that isn't torture enough, trying to find one to cover my dents made the excursion even more challenging. Especially one that doesn't look like my grandma's bathing suit. And it's not real easy to find the style to the left anymore.

I know, I know. After four kids you would think I wouldn't be bothered by a few dimples on my body. But I am. Maybe it's because I can cover my stomach. Covering both my arms and thighs at the same time is a bit more challenging. And, let's face it, we women care about our appearance.

I did manage to find a suit with a cute little skirt, but it's not long enough to cover most of my thighs. So if you happen to see me floating by you in the pool this summer wearing capris and a T-shirt, please don't judge. It's only a temporary solution until I can buy me one of those fancy, dancy olden days bathing suits seen above.

What I Learned From Circus Camp

Anyone who knows anything about me knows how much I despise the circus and, more specifically, clowns. So imagine my horror when Alex informed me that he wanted to go to....wait for it...Circus Camp. (Yes, there really is such a thing.)

Of course, as any good mother would do, I begged him not to go. He stood strong, though, and I was reminded of a very valuable lesson. That is, that even though I gave birth to these kids, have raised them, pay A LOT of money for them and want them to stay little forever, each day they are growing into their own little people. They have their own likes and dislikes, interests and dreams.

I remember what that felt like--spreading your wings and finding your passion. My mom and dad stood by as I tested the waters with soccer, softball, water polo, dance, art class, theater and singing among many other activities. And I very clearly remember what it feels like to have your mom say that the story you wrote about a waffleiron that attacked a kid at breakfast was brilliant.

"Your going to be a great writer one day," she would say every time I brought her my latest story. She believed it, so I believed it.

So that is why I begrudgingly wrote the check. This isn't about me. It's about Alex finding his way. Alex, my shy one, my worrier. The boy who hates trying new things and meeting new people. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. After all, what better way to step outside your comfort zone than to learn to plant a pie in someone's face. Yep, sometimes being a mom means stepping back and watching your kids find their own way--even if that path takes them to Circus Camp.