44

In a week I turn 44. I'll be spending my birthday in my house because my options during the time of COVID are limited.

Not that I would normally party till the break of dawn. Not really my speed. No doubt I would have gone out dinner with my family and some friends and ate WAY TOO MUCH.

I can still do that at my house though.

44 isn't a special age by any reasonable gauge.

It's not a milestone like 21 or even 40.

For most people birthday 44 will pass like any other day, but for me, it's a little bit different.

44 is the age my mother died.

44 is the last birthday she celebrated.

When I was younger 44 didn't seem old but it didn't seem as young as it does right now.

When my mother died I had so many questions that I wanted answered. So many things about the way she lived her life that I wanted her to explain. Choices I wanted her to justify.

But I was so young. Everything about her life was foreign to me. I didn't know what it felt like to be a mother. A wife. To have people rely on you.

I always hoped that as I aged and got some life experiences her choices would make more sense. I would be able to see why she was who she was.

Now, sitting on this side of the fence, I still don't understand her. Her choices still confuse me and frustrate me and despite my best effort still make me very angry sometimes. Most of all though this birthday makes me sad.

Sad that this is as far as she got. Not because fate is cruel or because sometimes bad stuff just happens but because she made bad choices. Because she let her demons win.

So while I am sad about the things she missed I am grateful her choices taught me life lessons that a lot of people have to learn themselves the hard way.

Grateful that her choices made me who I am today.

So I'm going to try and live my life to the fullest this year but I might get maudlin sometimes. I might express my undying love for you or confess all kinds of things because life is short. So short and I'm not going to waste it.

My Kids

When I say I would do anything for my kids.

When I say I will cheer for my kids.

When I say I support my kids no matter what.

When I say I would murder for my kids.

When I say no one will hurt my kids.

I'm not just talking about the ones that call me mom.

If you bring your child to me. If you trust your child to my care. If your kid hugs me when they see me.

These are my kids and I pity the person that ever tries to hurt them.

Mostly because if they are my kids they are going to stand up and do something about it but also because when they are done with you......

Well, we really don't need to go into that do we?

No.

I don't think we do.

Functional Training

Right now some of you are yelling that you are not going to drink the Koolaid.

I get it. Seriously, I was you. I was actually tricked into joining. Bamboozled even!

For everyone else who is confused by my ranting here is what I'm talking about.

Functional Training is a tern for Crossfit.

But hold on one minute before you totally ignore me or start ranting about how you don't want to be the best at exercising.

There is a reason Crossfit is called Functional Training.

I'm talking to you moms!

You know that battle to only make one trip with the groceries?

Functional Fitness

You know how your toddler wants to ride on your back for an hour?

Functional Fitness

You know that balancing act you perform while you read one more bedtime story on the edge of the bed packed with a small child and every stuffed animal ever made?

Functional Fitness

You know when you run along the sidelines of your kid's soccer game trying to get the perfect "action shot"?

Functional Fitness

You know when you bend down to tie your little one's shoe for the 100th time?

Functional Fitness

Basically what I'm saying is that Crossfit is for you.

So this is my plea to you ladies to join me at the YMCA and try out a class.

Is it hard? YES

Is it worth it? YES

Will you be able to "keep up"? YES

I am a Superhero

Sunday is Funday.

I spend most of Sunday's at open mat because that is fun to me.

What's "open mat"?

Good question.

It's a time when your BJJ (Brazilian Jui Jitsu) school lets everyone train but there is no lesson. Just people rolling together trying to get better at a sport they love.

When you work really hard the mats are covered in sweat. I mean covered!

Obviously, that is GROSS and it needs to be cleaned up.

Enter the cleanup crew. Or as it is less formally known the student and instructors.

I had a mop in my hand because I was in the Navy so I can out mop most people. 😜

Natalie was there too and as is the natural state of a 12-year-old girl she was being sassy.

One of the other members of the cleanup crew commented that she was past the age where she thought her parents were perfect superheroes.

I laughed for a moment before replying.

"Fuck that. I am a Superhero."


Or as close as you are going to get without any magical powers and Natalie agreed.


Side note. This is not about mommy shamming. You can be a great mom without being a secret ninja.

So sure she questions everything I say and revels in telling me I'm wrong but she doesn't question my superhero status.

And neither should you.

Mama Bear VS Sheepdog Mom

Moms want what's best for their kids. They want them safe to grow up and flourish. Live a better life than their parents. And when things don't go their way those same mom's, who cut the crusts off sandwiches and make homemade Halloween costumes, turn into fierce and dangerous Momma Bears.

The problem is that Momma Bear's claws and teeth aren't real. All roar and no bite.

Don't get me wrong lots of things in this world can be fixed with words and a strong backbone.

Momma Bears aren't a bad thing.

But there is something better. An option that does have teeth. An option that has claws and knows how to use them.

The world is complicated and sometimes the ability to defend yourself and those you love most is required.

Bears cannot be relied upon to attack when needed. Bears aren't Man's best friend.

That place of honor is held by the dog. (I don't want to hear about cats. That's crazy talk.)

So I don't want to be a Momma Bear I want to be a Sheepdog Mom.

I want to be your friend. I want to make you feel safe. But never for a moment doubt that if needed I have teeth and claws and I will use them to protect what's most important to me.

I know that in order to be a sheepdog I must first acknowledge that there are things in this world that are evil.  They are rare but they are still out there. At first, it's scary admitting there are things in the world that want to hurt you. But once you start to learn to be aware you realize you can avoid them.

It's liberating to know there isn't much you can't handle.

So who wants to be a sheepdog instead of a momma bear?

My favorite people have a sale going on right now. 

You know I have a favorite group and they want Mom's safe to so they have a discount code.

They have15% off the entire site now through Mother’s Day with code: SDRMOM

I might be dead.

How long would I be dead before someone noticed?

Late last night I heard one of my kids call "Mom!".

So I yelled back "What?"  and waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

When nothing else happened I got out of bed. 

OH WAIT.

Did I forget to mention I was all snuggled in my bed getting closer and closer to dreamland? Because that is where I was after I told my children of my intentions to enter dreamland. Not that they ever pay attention to me but I sometimes like to scream into the void just to hear the sound of my own voice. 

So out of bed I go. 

Up the stairs. 

Into the lair that belongs to my teenage child. 

The door is, of course, locked despite my requests to not do that. 

So I bang on the door and the teenage zombie leaves his game for a moment to answer it.

Son- "What?"

Me- "You called me."

Son- "Oh yeah I thought I heard a gunshot."

Me- "And you didn't think to check on me? Save your sister? Escape to safety? Am I currently bleeding out while some thief robs us?"

Son-"You answered me."

Oh, that's right. I said 'what'. All the confirmation my kid needed after hearing what he thought was a GUNSHOT.

I heard no such thing. Again I was trying to enter dreamland but still his response to my attempted murder is not very comforting. 

So the question is how long would I be dead before someone noticed?

Monday Monday

Mondays are always rough. This is true for everyone. We spend our weekends having fun and forgetting our responsibilities and Monday morning is a wake up call.

By "we" I'm talking about the human race not the people that live in this house. We, as in the people in this house, spend our weekends doing ridiculous things like fighting for fun and seeing how close to vomiting we can get during a workout.

PS it was a lot closer than it's been in a while.

So Mondays are hard.

Luckily it ended fun. (Are you being sarcastic? Because it seems like you might be being sarcastic.)

Peanut came downstairs nice and clean from her shower to let me know her stomach hurt. I told her to get a pot and head to bed. This seemed like solid MOM advice. Peanut agreed.

I also mentioned that making sure her bathroom wasn't littered with clothes in case of emergency. Or at least that had been what I was half way through saying before the peanut started to use the pot she had just retrieved from the cabinet.

As I made my way to my vomiting child to usher her into the bathroom to avoid splash back she paused to say one word.

"Frog"

Yup. Frog. Although if we want to be accurate she should have said toad. Because that is what was sitting right in the middle of my living room.

How did it get there?

This is a very valid question but I didn't really have time to think about the answer because the peanut started vomiting again and I had to chase a toad through my house.

So HAPPY MONDAY!