Snippets

In a comedy of errors that is omnipresent in our home, Greta spilled glitter paint on the kitchen floor today.  I’m just pretending that the sparkles I see across the floor are because it’s so sparkly clean, and not because glitter-glitter-glitter everywhere.  Greta is the kid who often leaves a trail of glitter wherever she goes; today, she’s just doing it literally instead of figuratively.  I’m running out of rooms to barricade off, so we’re embracing the glitter.  Seriously, I love kid art.

This is the same girl with whom I shared the following conversation:

“Greta, do you want to do some dance lessons or gymnastics classes soon?”

“Are those the only actibibbees I can do Mom?”

“You can pick anything you want.  What else did you have in mind Greta?”

“I fink I want to do yoga.”

Long pause from me.  “Yoga?”

G, “Yep.  Yoga!”

“Do you know what yoga is Greta?”

Cheerfully, “Nope, I sure don’t Mom!”

“Okay.  Dance, gymnastics, swimming, soccer?  What about those?”

“Mom!  I already said yoga!”

“Right.  Okay.  Let me look into yoga for four-year-olds G.  I’ll get back to you.”

G, looking out the window and swinging her legs, “Mmmmkay Mom!”  Muttering to herself, “I’m going to do yooooogggggaaaa.”

This conversation took place at four in the afternoon.  It’s now six hours later, and she mentioned yoga at least three more times this evening.  Maren-mind-like-a-bear-trap-Anderson is helpfully mentioned all of the places she thinks might have kid yoga and recalled there’s a free yoga class in Hyde Park on Saturdays for kids.

Zen, here we come.  I hope they don’t mind that she comes to class covered in glitter.

In other news, I’m slow-to-recover this cycle and I am thinking that this is due to over-doing it in the early days of this cycle… no one thing in particular, just too much life-ing.  Whittling down to “just the essentials” is a challenge for me because there is so much gray area.  Well, we also had/have the indoor flood, so that didn’t help.  I’m so careful sometimes — like vacation week — to not dig myself into a hole, and then on “normal” weeks, I let my guard down and end up walloped.  And sometimes (too often, apparently, this round) I do something that is good for my brain with the niggling knowledge that it might be too much for my body and resign myself to the consequences.  Life-ing, the way I do it, is pretty much always worth it, but I’m still finding myself itching to not have to work so hard to be Fun Jen.  Sitting and typing today is a way to keep myself down, resting, relaxed; I’m not so good at that on your average Monday.  I’m looking normal, behaving normal, and doing normal, I just don’t quite feel normal.  I’ll get there though.  I will get there.

The Komen race is this Friday night, and Brad, Maren, Greta and I are all participating.  If you want to know what my movements will be on that day, message me, and I will let you know when I know.  (I’m still figuring out the details myself.)

The yo-yo of on-again-off-again fatigue that I’m feeling from chemo today makes it surreal that I am still training for the half-marathon, but yes–I am still working on that.  I’m planning on running again when I get my mojo back before the next treatment.  Here’s who I know is signed up: JA, KH, AL, LW, KB.  Here’s who is thinking about it: MG, TH, HH, LF, EB, AS.  Message me if I missed you.  Brad and the girls are going to come high-five us along the route, my mom may sign up and rally a group to walk the four-mile event, and my far-away sister is training with the intent of running with me in spirit on the big day.  I’m looking forward to it and enjoying the solidarity of the training!

I’m pacing myself at life right now; trying not to overdo it and end up in a heap… the parallels to running are obvious and strong on these days.

Tonight I kissed Maren good night and told her I was proud of her.

“Why are you proud of me Mom?”

“Oh, for about a million reasons Sweet Girl,” I told her, “But tonight I’m just proud of who you are; you are a delight and I’m lucky to be your mama.”

The words come out of my mouth and back into my own ear: I don’t need to do anything.  It is enough just to be.