In nine days I’m running a half marathon with my dear friend Lori.

Just in case you are wondering, this post is not about ME.

After a ridiculously wet 11 mile long run last week.

You may recall that Lori journeyed with me last year when I went to the Big Apple to run the New York Marathon with Katie. Because of that, and many, many, many other things … I have become her biggest fan.  Lori has lost over 105 pounds and one of her major goals in life is to conquer a distance race.

So here we go. This is HER race. And we’re gonna do it… together.

Can’t you just FEEL the excitement?

Having and conquering a goal is a powerful thing. The feeling of empowerment that comes from proving something to yourself is almost indescribable.

I can’t wait to see her face when they place that medal around her neck.

Truth be told, to me she is already a winner. She has battled so many odds and still she shines. She is my hero.

Next week ‘s race is just a formality.

“Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months and years they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance itself is merely the demonstration of their championship character.” — T. Alan Armstrong

How about you? Do you have hero in your life?

My lovely and fabulous buddy Lori Rypka is one of the guest posters granting me a week of non-bloggy-ness while I vacation.  Yeah, I owe her!

What’s that sound?

Wait for it …. Wait for it … (nothingness). There it is, the elusive
silence I’ve been hearing so much about. I’m about to have the mythical
experience of silence in my house soon.

I began staying home with my daughter when she was 18 months old, and
have since had a son. I have been home taking care of kids for six
years, and have logged a collective 2,753 trips to Target, changed 8,412
diapers, given 3,529 baths, used 27,087 wipes to clean up butts and
messes, and logged 73.2 hours of sleep in that time. This fall, my
little man starts a pre-school program.

I am the first to wish that my kids don’t grow up. I had a contract with
my daughter to not grow up, but she has since changed the rules, but has
conceded to build her inventor’s lab in our backyard so that we can see
each other every day. She said we can have coffee together, and that I
can come over for sleepovers every night. My son has agreed that he
won’t grow up after he turns 4. (Ironic statement about the gender, eh?)

However, the thought of three hours a day, three days a week when both
children are in a safe, caring environment makes me think the
possibilities are endless. I can get my work done uninterrupted! I can
clean the floor and have it stay clean for TWO WHOLE HOURS. I can go to
the grocery store without a little friend asking for some sugary cereal,
then melting down when I don’t buy it! Bliss!

More importantly, of course, I’m just tickled pink that they will learn
new and exciting lessons, meet new people, see old friends that have
missed over the summer, and have new experiences. It’s worth the morning
chaos to get out the door. And of course the few moments of quiet are
just an added bennie.

This Fitness Friday I have asked my friend Lori Rypka to do a guest post.  Lori has lost an amazing amount of weight (70 pounds and counting…)on her fitness journey and inspires me every day to make the right choices.  She is living proof that determination will get you the results you want every time!

Dieting sucks, so why do it?

Now that you’ve gasped and spit out your morning danish, hear me out.
It’s true, dieting sucks. Coming from a serial dieter, I can’t say I have looked back on a single program and thought, “Wow, this is the
life. I’ve got it made on this program. Next stop: The cover of Oxygen magazine.”

Deprivation, starvation, contemplation of confection. Shun them all. I have seen the light and am giving you a glimpse of my world.

The Girl Scout Cookie Diet.

OK, I’m obviously kidding. So let’s drill down to what we hear the most. Forget Aktins. Forget South Beath. Forget The Cookie Diet. Doctors have
been saying it for time and eternity. Eat a well balanced diet with fruits, veggies, lean proteins, whole grains and healthy fats. I mean,
they built a whole Food Pyramid on these principles.

Yeah, yeah, heard that before. Guess what … it actually works. Whoa!

Call the media! This is HUGE news!

A friend told me about the Eat Clean Diet by Tosca Rosa. I thought about it, researched it, bought the book … and a light went on in an already
lit room. She’s got some great information there, the actual food she recommends is on the Food Pyramid. No food groups are eliminated.
Certain food groups are limited. She recommends food as close to how God made them as possible, and in the healthiest varieties (read: no white
flour/sugar/rice). I’ve heard it all before, but this time it clicked. I was also weighed down with the whole “Do I really want to set my kids up
for health issues in the future?” guilt.

Was it easy? Yes and no. Yes, because I made up my mind that this is a lifestyle change and not a diet, and that it ultimately is the best
thing I could do for my family. No, because I have too cook and shop a lot more (sort of wish I could find all the ingredients in one store).

I’m about three weeks into it, and I do feel better, have dropped some weight and feel good for what I’m doing for my kids. It’s also been fun
to be approached for advice from friends who have also been thinking about this. It’s worth the extra mileage hunting down ingredients as
well as the extra time in the kitchen. After all, a diet is temporary. A lifestyle is for life.

Lastly, it was also about deciding that I’m worth it. And I am.

Enjoy this blog from my pal Lori Rypka… mom to Katie (6) and Michael (2). Lori also writes a bi-weekly column for the Frederick News Post (Sunday section).  Lori has also launched a new venture called “Wrap Me In Love.”  Find out more here.

Say what?

I’d venture a bet that we’ve all been in situations when we are stopped in our tracks by something someone says. “Say what??” I’m pretty sure I wear a magnet for bizarro comments.

People with kids get this all the time from their little ones. Small mix ups in facts or use of the language can make for some funny comments.
“Mama, did you know that Abraham Lincoln lived until he was 100 years old and had a baby when he was 99??” My daughter hit me with this coming out of Bible school recently. “Abraham Lincoln, really?” “Yes, Mama.  Abraham Lincoln.” I asked her if she learned that in class that day. Of course she did. I asked her if she knew that there was a man named Abraham in the Bible who was not Abraham Lincoln, and he had the same story. Then had to explain when in history these men lived. I hated to burst her bubble because she was so fascinated by the, but I’m all for getting the facts straight.

When I was a reporter, I’d hear all of the good scoop. You see, that’s the benefit of covering small town politics. People think that if they have a dispute with a neighbor and they call the newsroom, we will write a story about this degenerate and embarrass him. “And if you don’t write a story about it, I’m going to write a letter to the editor about you!”
Half the time I wanted to say, “Go ahead. That will save me from telling her about this ridiculous request.”

I think, however, that my all-time favorite “Say what?” comment came about 14 years ago when I met an old college friend for coffee at a downtown coffee shop. We were catching up, having lively conversation, and discussing her upcoming wedding. We noticed that an older gentleman – the only other person in the shop at the time – was staring at us.  It didn’t totally creep us out – after all, we were armed with hot coffee.

So after about an hour of chatting, the man pulled up a chair and asked if he could join us. Being a couple of polite chicks, we welcomed him to our table. He wasn’t the cleanest looking individual, and we suspected he either lived on the streets or in a shelter of some kind.

He asked what we were talking about, and we told him about her wedding. He proceeded to ask questions, and my friend gave him the details. In the course of conversation, she mentioned her husband-to-be is in Ohio and she lived in Maryland. That simple fact made the man stop, and with a quizzical look – or, shall I say, a “say what?” look – he probed further. “What do you mean he is in Ohio and you are in Maryland?” We didn’t think it was that uncommon. And then he went … there. Cleaning up what he said, he wondered how they had ‘relations’ when they lived so far away.

Then my friend had that “say what?” look. Shocked that he went … there … she very proudly told him that they were saving themselves for marriage. (Yes, I know at this point many of you have that “say what?” look – this is totally common with people from my college). He shot back with another “say what?” look. It was like tennis match action with the looks for me. I tried not to get involved and enjoyed the ride.

This conversation went on for at least another 30 minutes. I don’t remember how the subject changed, but then the attention turned to me.  He asked what I did for a living, and I mentioned I was an editor for the newspaper. “Say what? Good, I need to talk to you.” Here it comes, I thought, another complainer. “Since you are a writer, I want someone to write my story. Like an autobiography.”

“Say what?”, I thought. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a call at the newspaper and set up a time to talk to you.” After slight panic, I was comforted in knowing I never gave my name. I can only imagine what that conversation would turn into. Don’t get me wrong. I believe every life has a story to tell. Just the idea of writing a book for a stranger who was willing to go … there … with other strangers was a bit off-putting to me.

My friend and I very politely cut the conversation short so that we can continue having one-on-one conversation. We ultimately had to leave that location and move to another, but couldn’t stop talking about that gentleman. We still joke about it today.

Anymore, I’m not terribly shocked by what people say. If nothing else, it makes for a great story to tell.

Enjoy this blog from my pal Lori Rypka… mom to Katie (6) and Michael (2). Lori also writes a bi-weekly column for the Frederick News Post (Sunday section).

PLAYING THE MOM GAME

Why, fellow moms out there, do we torture ourselves for each other?
Follow me to that scary place of admittance…

I admit… I stress out at the thought of someone coming to my house. I love visitors, but I do not love the prep work for visitors. Recently I invited an old bunko pal over for lunch. The three days prior to the visit, I scrubbed, cleaned, de-cluttered, organized, recycled, disinfected and otherwise staged the house. The first thing I say when she walks in? “Pardon my house. It’s a mess.”

Admit it. We’ve all said that.

Did I really think my house was a mess? Not at all! In fact, it was the nicest it as looked in months. And yet why did I feel compelled to say it was? Was I fishing for a compliment? Was I insecure at not knowing how clean the other person’s house is, and wonder if they think it IS really a mess compared to theirs?

I’ve walked into impeccably clean houses and heard it, and I’ve walked into houses where a toy bomb has gone off and heard it. Frankly, I think as long as we don’t see a nest of bugs in the corner, “kid mess” doesn’t bother other moms.

The tricky part is… when someone says that, how should you respond?
After using a number of responses, I settled on “Are you kidding me?
You’re house is perfect! You should see mine!” I even say that after I have put my house into good order. I USED to say “Oh please, I’m used to this.” Then I realized that was telling the other person, in so many words, “Yes, your house is a pit.”

Face it, when you have kids, you have messes. Other moms know this, and I dare say that the greater majority don’t care. We’ve been there. We know. And we still think each other great moms despite the colorful landmines on the floor. Moms only have so much energy, and it takes a lot to get through the day without worrying about cleaning up immediately after every mess is made.

So next time you get a knock on the door from a fellow mom friend, it’s OK to let her in without worrying…