idontbelieveingrammar

I have run more than my share of races. My tennis shoes have more miles on them than my parents' new car. But.  I still don’t really see myself as a runner.   I have friends who train for races by signing up for nutrition classes, printing off their run schedules and following them religiously. I think burbees and fartleks sound like intestinal distress, not something I want to do in a workout. I consider training making a really good playlist and getting out there and running until I want to throw up. pass out or both Doing that a few times a week logging as many miles as my knees will take. I carb load (read eat an entire box of girl scout cookies), drink plenty of water (read coffee) and buy expensive socks. The end.  Show up race day and try not to finish last. Or die. So far this has worked for me. Although not well enough for me to start sharing my finish times. A few months ago I had some friends sign up for a running training class. It was cheap...

I pick things up quickly. Usually. Well, except for conjugating French verbs, derivatives and any type of aerobic step. But, for the most part I am a quick learner. At least that is what my teachers used to write on notes they sent home. Right under the part that said I talked back. I could rush through my school homework while watching Full House, talking on the phone and listening to the radio. School came easy. Life lessons however, I mostly preferred to learn the hard way.  Sometimes over and over again. After a particularly trying afternoon…I finally got Tess to sit down and eat. Just as I was getting her a drink I watched her tag my kitchen table with a sharpie. She was through with the T and moving on to an E.  I dropped the drink and quickly wrestled the permanent marker away from her and hid in a drawer that I suddenly considered buying a lock for. She gave me a look that seemed to say, "What is the big deal already. This is art." I told her it w...

My son was so easy as a baby. He slept through the night at 8 weeks when I went back to work. As a toddler he was active and always on the move....but a first born pleaser. He ate broccoli and would play alone with Legos for hours. (He still will).  I was sure that Shaun and I were pros at parenting. Our kid was happy, easy going and so freaking cute that we figured we should bless this planet with another set of our genes. We could not have been more wrong. Not about blessing this planet with our genes or making the most adorbs babies around....just about being the world's best parents.  (The fact that I occasionally had to borrow diapers and wipes from complete strangers...because I couldn't be counted on to remember things like a diaper bag should have been my first clue.) My first shot at actually giving birth was not exactly fun.  Lots of labor. Lots of pushing. Lots of blood. An epidural that only seemed to take effect on one side of my body. And eventually a...

I teach high school. Which means that sometimes I am stuck in this never ending loop of homecomings, report cards, pep rallies and prom kings. Names, music and fashions change, but year after year so much is the same. One of the dress up days last week was college day, I played country music on Western day, a lot of Madonna and Micheal Jackson on 80s day….so on college day I figured I should play music I listened to in college. All day I spent a lot of time thinking about who I was in college. And frustrated that so much of me was exactly the same.  Give or take 25 lbs. The same issues I had in my twenties is the exact same baggage I carry around today. I am too much. I have boundary issues. I am oh so easily distracted. I hate limits and budgets and rules. I suck at driving. I like cute boys and beer and things that are not always good for me. I play my music too loud. I talk too loud. I still wear pajama pants and flip flops every chance I get. ...

Earlier this week Tess lost another tooth. And there is something about gaps in my kid’s smile that tug at my heart.  A gap that will be filled with a tooth slightly too big for their five year old face. Adult teeth look so funny on a little kid and it takes years to grow into them. When I say Tess lost her tooth, I do not mean she wiggled it out and tucked it snugly beneath her pillow for the tooth fairy to trade out with a dollar bill. I mean she lost it at the bottom of the swimming pool.  She was excited about the tooth, but sad that she had nothing to show for it. I assured her that the tooth fairy would be just as happy to take a drawing of her tooth. That the exchange rate for real and drawn teeth were exactly the same.  She was not so sure and drew 3 teeth just in case. Or was possibly hoping for 3X the payout. I remember snooping through my parents drawers as a kid and finding a few baby teeth. These baby teeth both fascinated and disgusted me. Even mor...

It is July, which means an inevitable camp post. I can close my eyes and hear the Loma Linda screen doors slam.  I can smell the river water mixed with vinegar ear drops.  I can feel the cut of the grate of the catwalk on my bare feet and the uncomfortable way the sheet always slips off in the night and you wake up stuck to your mattress.  These days I am way too old for camp but apparently it has found some way to infiltrate all my senses and my heart. Permanently. I could not wait to send my kids. I want him to have the same crazy memories and nicknames and stories about scraped knees, bathing suits ripped on the rapids, raccoons eating contraband snacks but mostly feeling like the summer was mine.  For three weeks in July I left my parent’s world behind for an unairconditioned dorm, sub par food and not nearly enough showers for the number of girls who needed them. In return I had thirty new roommates, inside jokes, new tan lines, a fully packed cabood...

I woke up the day after my birthday and knew. For months I’ve been wondering what I need to do next, or what to be when I grow up or what happens now. But  that morning, with the smile lines and gray hairs showing through, looking every bit of another year older, I knew.  So before putting on real clothes I began searching for graduate programs. Which is a little bit silly because I already have a graduate degree. But I figured everyone now has a Masters, I might as well have 2. I applied to one school before my kids even got out of bed. I was looking at signing up for the GRE and trying to pick a program. I texted, emailed, called and made appointments with an advisor. But it wasn’t really what I was looking for. The next day, I did a little more research and stumbled upon a program that was more me. Unfortunately it will take a whole lot longer to complete and people would get to call me doctor if I got in. I applied to my second school in as ...