B.O.B. Days Are Over

As if my life is not in enough turmoil right now, I had to say goodbye to the love of my life...B.O.B.

Now before you go thinking that the reason for my move was due to a torrid affair with a dude named Bob, let me clarify.  "Bob" is my B.O.B. double jogging stroller.  In an effort to purge more unnecessary items in our house, I finally caved and put the stroller on Craigslist.

As an avid runner, getting out for a run is my therapy.  It is my time to clear my mind, feel good about myself and in those post-baby months, a way to shed the lbs.  I was worried that I would never run again once I had kids.  With Maddie, I packed her in the Graco Travel System and walked until she was old enough for the single jogging stroller.  I was addicted to that time I got to do something for myself when everything else I did was for someone else. When I couldn't run, I was able to sneak away to the gym during my lunch hour at work. When she was big enough for single jogging stroller, I would run with the empty stroller to the daycare that was was about 2 miles away, pick her up, and then run home.  There were plenty of times people looked at me like I was nuts running with a stroller sans-baby, but it allowed me to multi-task by picking up Maddie at daycare while I worked out and snuck in some quality time with my baby.

Once I had Colin, I thought as long as I got a double jogging stroller, I would be fine.  Some women get diamond necklaces, earrings or bracelets as "push presents." This girl got a $500 double jogging stroller.  I had it ordered even before Colin entered this world. I told Tom this was the only way I could remain sane staying home with two kids.  As soon as I could get out, I walked with the kids.  Just prior to my 6-week appointment when I got my "clearance" from the doctor to workout again, I was trying to do light runs.  Of course, I learned early what "pushing it" with my push present meant--lack of bladder control and returning home from a run having peed my pants. Sad, but true.

I conditioned my kids at an early age to withstand at least a half-hour ride in the jogging stroller. When I faced resistance I bribed them with DumDum suckers, Goldfish crackers and fruit snacks.  I know, kind of counter-intuitive to strive for physical fitness and a healthy lifestyle while I pump my kids full of snacks while they sit in a stroller, but if I've said it once, I've said it a million times--Happy Mom=Happy Kids.  Plus, it taught them to get along in a confined space, got them a daily dose of vitamin D and set a good example of physical fitness.

Along the way, we had lots of fun in our jogging stroller.  We did mini-safari's looking for "wild animals" in suburbia.  While squirrels, bunnies and birds are pretty lame compared to lions and tigers, we did encounter a deer on one of our runs.  We also played games like "I Spy" and Alphabet game where they would have to go through the alphabet and find something with that started with each letter of the ABC's.

I often let the kids pick our course.  We had a few standard courses that we would follow and they got to the point where they knew which ones were not only the most interesting, but the ones that ended at a park.  So many times our runs would end up being a tit-for-tat scenario where I would swear that if they could just let me get my run in, we would go to the park on our way home.  I even went so far as to video tape one of our runs, put it to music and put it on Youtube.  

Santa Run for the Kids 5k with my reindeer.

I ran two 5k races pushing the jogging stroller and still placed in my age group in one of them.  There was a huge sense of pride I felt running with my two kids in that stroller.  The 5k I ran that had built-in fans cheering me on, but even on my daily runs I often got honks, waves and even a "You Go Girl!" from strangers driving by me while I hoofed it up and down the streets of my neighborhood on any given day.  It empowered me, motivated me and made me one bad-ass mama from all that extra resistance! It also prevented me from having three kids because I knew that a Triple-Jogging Stroller just does not exist.

Many times I would have friends from my neighborhood mention that they saw me running with my bright yellow stroller and would marvel in my determination and tenacity.  Most people said they couldn't imagine running at all, let alone pushing two kids in a stroller. Not gonna lie, that made me feel good. 

Eventually, the kids got older and the bribes had to get bigger.  Finally, I couldn't afford the bribes any longer, but more importantly their combined weight made it physically impossible for me to continue to run with both of them.  Tom mentioned selling my jogging stroller and I refused.  With the move, extra expenses adding up and our lack of desire to move any more than absolutely necessary, I finally agreed.

Within two days, I had a bite and sold the stroller.  I literally had to fight back the tears as my baby rolled away.  And no, neither of my kids jumped in the stroller unexpectedly on its departure.  Why so sad?  That stroller represented a major part of my identity for 5 years of my life.  I was the "crazy lady jogging on Miller Rd." in the neighborhood.  I was the mom who refused to throw in the towel on her running habit just because she had two kids.  I was the mom who got her kids up and out each morning instead of sitting in front of the television.  I was the mom who sang songs to her kids while she ran.  It turns out, it wasn't just "my time." It was "our time."

I'll leave you with this link to the video I made three years ago.  I hope you get the idea of why I shed a tear for our friend B.O.B.  So many miles.  So many memories.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvFdIY1IGZ4

Movin' On Out

Six years after growing out of our house, we are finally moving.

We bought this house ten years ago when Tom and I weren't even married.  We were engaged and neither of us had a home or apartment of our own.  He had lived in D.C. for two years and then moved back in with his parents when he came home.  I was staying with my brother and sister-in-law after living in the city and decided it just wasn't for me.

We were anxious to start our life together and needed a place for all of our wedding shower gifts!  It seemed at that time, that most of the people our age who were buying homes were heading further and further out in the suburbs because you could get so much home for your money.  We followed their lead and realized that if we wanted something we could afford, we would either have to live in a shoebox, buy a fixer-upper or move to the sticks.  We chose the sticks.

As luck would have it, my other brother and his wife and family were looking to sell their house to move to Arizona.  We had some friends in Lake In The Hills, where my brother lived and they sold us on all the benefits of living here.  We were able to work out the details with my brother and sister-in-law and before we knew it, we were homeowners.

The housing market at that time was on fire.  It was the time where people actually made a living flipping houses.  We took out a 5-1 Arm Loan and figured we wouldn't have to worry about refinancing because we would only live in the house 4-5 years.  Then, the market went to hell-in-a-hand basket.  By the time we were ready to sell, all the reality shows about house flipping were cancelled and it was just about the time all the baby toys, contraptions and stuffed animals from our first-born were starting to close in on us.

Our biggest problem was a lack of a basement.  The more toys that appeared, the more our living room looked like Romper Room.  We started to put our exit strategy together, but the outlook was bleak.  Houses were just not moving and despite the fact we were both working at the time, any offer we got just didn't give us enough equity to purchase another home.

In the meantime, I quit my job and got knocked up again.  We knew once we had two kids that it would make more sense for me to stay home instead of paying an arm-and-a-leg for childcare.  Tom had just got a promotion and while that conceivably meant he would make more, it still left a great deal of uncertainty where income was concerned.

We finally decided to take the house off the market, turn third bedroom from an office into a baby's room and stick it out for awhile longer.  After all, we loved our house despite the lack of space, and most importantly, we loved our neighbors.

You really could not ask for a better living situation, well except for the asshole teenagers across the street.  We all hung out together on weekends, the kids played together and we helped each other out way beyond a cup of sugar here and there.  We had somewhat of a commune living situation where we all knew each other's garage codes, let each other's dogs out, babysat each other's kids and celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and Baptisms together.  We were more than neighbors.  We were more than friends.  We were family.

We also knew that we were in a great school district and in the end, our house was manageable, affordable and kept us safe.  So for the next five years we hung in there, but knew that at some point we would revisit our desire to move.

In the meantime, Tom's parents who had moved out to this area around the same time we did and bought a larger house as "an investment" were ready to downsize.  They had retired,  bought an RV and spent half the year traveling.  They wanted to sell their house and move to a low maintenance retirement community nearby.  Since we are in the business of buying our family members' homes, they asked us if we were interested in their house.  Their house had already lost some value and rather than give it away at a lower price to a stranger, they figured they would rather sell it to us.

My stipulation was that we get this transaction completed before Madelyn started first grade.  As it stood, we would have to change her even after she got situated in a school for Kindergarten, and I didn't want to wait any longer to switch schools if we could help it.  We sat down and hashed out the details, put our house on the market and away we went.

Now, if you have ever sold your house, you know the stress of keeping your home "staged" for showings.  If you have ever done this with children, you know it is like brushing your teeth like eating Oreos. (I stole that from something I saw on Facebook)  Before we could do anything else, we had to move half of the stuff out of the house.  Prior to putting the house up we had to move out all of the train sets, car tracks, large trucks, three bags of stuffed animals and copious amounts of Legos.  I purged the closets, packed up Winter clothes and repainted some of the walls that had been nicked, scratched and colored on.

I power washed the outside of the house, painted trim and railings on the front porch and put new house numbers up over the garage.  We had all of our landscaping freshened up, trees trimmed and new mulch put down.  Despite a minor meltdown while the landscapers turned my "privacy bushes" into Bonzai trees, the house was finally ready to stick a sign in the front and start showing.

Our traffic was relatively slow.  The first weekend we put the house on the market was Father's Day weekend, so we only had a couple showings. One of which, they called a half-hour before they wanted to come see the house and ended up coming ten minutes later.  Let's put it this way, we fled the house and headed to Yumz for frozen yogurt with Colin in his jammies and me without a bra.

In our haste to leave the house, I also realized later that day that someone had forgotten to flush the toilet.  And by that, I mean, Madelyn took a man-sized poo and left it to simmer.  I asked her specifically when she had done this and she informed me it was before the showing.  I almost lost it and all Madelyn could do is stare at me in wonder and amazement.  They had already seen me go ape-shit on the landscapers pulling a Mr. Miagi on my shrubs and now this?  Our normally "lived in" home was no longer.  I am not a neat freak and there are plenty of times I don't bother cleaning up Legos because I know they will just get dragged out again.  There is usually a syrup stain somewhere on my kitchen table and try as I may, there are always dishes in the sink and laundry to be folded or put away.  So, imagine my kids' dismay when their mommy turned into some sort of OCD freak running a vacuum at their heals each time they dropped a crumb.

Alas, after only a week on the market we got a call that we had an offer.  The odd thing was the people who placed the offer hadn't even seen the house yet!  They made an appointment to see the house the following day, but were so impressed with the photos online, they wanted to put an offer in to make sure they didn't lose it. Even more shocking was that they offered us our asking price.  Now all we had to do was wait for the inspection, appraisal and for their financing to hold up.  No big deal, right?

WRONG!  The inspection revealed we had mold in our attic that needed to be remediated along with the half a dozen windows that we already had marked for completion.  That meant pouring another $2,000 into the house.  Then the appraisal came back way lower than our asking price and the buyers refused to come up any higher than the appraisal price.  Long story short, while the market is picking up it isn't picking up fast enough.  We knew going into this whole process that our neighborhood, littered with foreclosures and short-sales, meant our value had a lot of ground to make up.  Unfortunately, we were led to believe we would still get more than what the home ended up getting appraised for.

In the end, either we accepted the offer or we ran the risk that they buyer could walk away.  Of course, that would put us right back where we started--showing the house and waiting for another offer.  With the knowledge that the house could still appraise for the same amount with the next round, we really had to come to the realization that the market is just not on our side no matter what someone offers for our home.  My other concern was getting Madelyn registered for school which starts in a just over a month.

 

The process has been nothing short of stressful and Tom and I have "challenged each other" through several of the steps.  Most of the time, outside circumstances cause these bumps in the road. We finally determined that we were taking things out on each other that were out of our control. We needed to just ride the storm out together.  It reminded me of why I married Tom in the first place.  Good or bad, there is no one I'd rather get through things with than him.

 

At this stage in the game we are just over a week from closing.  We have already moved a good portion of our belongings to Tom's parents house/our new home.  I have no idea where anything is.  I am having a hard time finding things for the kids to wear between what has been packed and what is in the laundry.  Once we close, there will be a two week window where we will living with Tom's parents until they close on their new home a few miles away.  In the meantime, the new house looks a bit like an episode of "Hoarders" and I pray that neither of the two cats involved in this move perish along the way.

 

Soon, we will be pulling away from our home for the last time.  I get kind of nauseous at the thought, but I know it is time to start a new chapter in our life.  Soon we will all be settled in our respective homes. We will make each our own with some new paint, furniture and décor.  It will be hard when we come over to our current neighbors' houses for parties or play dates and won't be able to just run in the house for whatever we need or meander home after an evening of cocktails.  I am sure at some point I will go to drive "home" and find myself in the wrong place unable to recognize the car on the driveway. 

 

So many wonderful memories were made in this house.  So many "firsts" happened here. All the milestones met, all the tender moments shared.  Home is where the heart is and we will surely leave part of ours' here. 

Mystery Diagnosis

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any more interesting, chaotic or comical, it seems a new saga begins.

It all started Wednesday evening.  I was teaching my evening class at one of the gyms I work at and while doing bicycle crunches at the very end, happened to notice the lymph node behind my left ear was swollen and tender.  As a person who is usually running at a standard pace of ragged, I am no stranger to this occurrence.  Ever since I was a child, whenever I was run down, tired and my immune system was on the brink of disaster, this would happen.

Seeing as how I had just had strep throat 3 weeks prior, my son had a fever on Saturday, my daughter was diagnosed with an ear infection on Sunday and my husband tested positive for strep on Monday, it was no surprise I was fighting something off.

I felt fine and not even a sore throat or stuffy nose to speak of.  Still, the next morning my lymph node on the other side was swollen and both were pretty tender and sore.  I decided to call the doctor to make an appointment in order to be proactive.  After all, I had a jam packed weekend with the kid’s combined birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, teaching classes, a 10k and a meeting at work.  Tom and I were even going to try and squeeze in a date night.  I was hoping to nip this thing in the bud before it got worse.

As the day went on I started to feel worse, and despite my efforts to lay down and rest before my doctor’s appointment, my children had other plans for me.  I started to feel like I might be running a fever so I checked my temperature.  99.1 degrees.  I was slightly alarmed since I had already taken Advil 2 times that day to help with the pain the swollen lymph nodes were causing.  After letting the kids play outside with the neighbor, we got ready to head to the doctor’s office. 

As luck would have it, it started to rain on our way to the doctor and we got relatively soaked on our way in.  Even more luck, they had the air cranked in the doctor’s office and I sat there shivering in the waiting room.  My true luck was that I still hadn't dropped off the Good Will bags from cleaning out my closet earlier in the week and I had an old sweatshirt in the car.  We sat there for over an hour because the doctor had an emergency and it gave me a chance to think.  It occurred to me that this was a bad case of Karma.  I had made fun of Tom earlier in the week when he first came down with strep throat.  He was being a typical man when he was sick and got to sleep for an entire day-and-a-half and when he was awake he did a lot of moaning and groaning.  He also woke up one night with the chills and was literally rattling in our bed, complete with teeth chattering.  I informed him the next day he was annoying.  Then he was annoyed with me.

So, there I was suffering my payback with teeth chattering, body rattling, annoying everyone around me.  Meanwhile, my kids were climbing all over me and Colin was giving his stuffed animal a ride on the wheel chair in the waiting room, then hopped in and was wheeling around in it himself.  Despite how miserable I was, I was pretty impressed with his upper body strength.  I finally gave him my iPhone to play a game and he used a drawing App to make me a get well card.  He said it was a magic dinosaur that would make it so we didn’t have to wait so long.

When the doctor finally saw me, she must have asked me 10 times how long I had my sore throat and each time I had to explain my throat was not sore.  She finally gave me at throat culture to see if I was getting strep again, gave me two Tylenol and a prescription for an antibiotic for whatever infection I was battling.  I stopped at Little Caesar’s on the way home to get the kids some dinner, threw it on the table for them to have at it and climbed into bed where I proceeded to sweat profusely while I broke my fever.

That evening, Tom picked up my prescription and I could barely get it in me because I was so nauseous and hadn't been able to eat much.  On the second try I finally got it to stay down.  The next morning I felt about the same. My head and neck were sore, I could barely eat and I somehow had to get Maddie fed, dressed and ready for school.  I finally got her out the door to walk to the bus stop with the neighbor. Colin and I snuggled up for some movie time while I napped and continued to sweat.

Maddie got home from school at 11:30 and I had just enough energy to make lunch and then made my way back to the couch.  Maddie had been pouring on the drama queen routine from the minute she got off the bus making me feel guilty that she had nothing to do all day.  You would think that any other day I dress up as a clown and make balloon animals and have pony rides in the backyard to entertain them.  I finally got the chance to sleep and sweat some more in the afternoon and felt a little bit more human.  Human enough, that is to do dishes, a few loads of laundry and make dinner.

I promised the kids that if I felt better after dinner we could go to Party City to get their party favors.  That seemed to perk them up.  As soon as they saw me doing laundry, they knew things must be somewhat back to normal.  Tom came home and after dinner we all ventured to buy bubble wands for 30 kids.

That pretty much tapped all my energy for the evening and I found myself right back on the couch.  I mustered up some additional energy to get the kids ready for bed and shortly after, went up to get ready myself.  While washing my face I looked in the mirror and noticed that my forehead was slightly swollen.  It was right at the spot where I had a minor breakout a few days earlier.  Tom suggested I was growing a unicorn horn.  Then offered up, “Well, it is the summer of the cicadas.”  Great, now I can look forward to becoming the urban legend of the woman who hatched cicadas out of her head.  Then I had a flashback to the summer of the cicadas when I was in junior high.  My family and I went to a family reunion at a forest preserve that was teaming with cicadas.  My darling older brothers told me that the cicadas would crawl into my French braid and lay eggs and then hatch in seven years.  It’s been longer than seven years, but you never know.  On the bright side, if I give birth to cicadas, I only have to take care of them every seven years, right?

I started to get concerned and tried to figure out what was going on.  I began to think of all the things that this could be based on my experience.  My first thought was I contracted something from the Tough Mudder race I did a few weeks prior. Was it a staph infection? MRSA? Was that where my one-night-stand with a cicada took place? It also occurred to me that this could be the result of hairspray.  A few years ago I ran a race with a hat on and developed a sore on my scalp from the combination of hairspray and sweat.  As a result, my lymph node swelled up and eventually went away on its own without any antibiotics.

I rarely use hairspray, but happened to use that hairspray on a whim last week.  A day or two after I used it I noticed a small breakout on my forehead, but nothing to speak of on my scalp. I am generally sensitive to a lot of hair and skin products, so it would be no surprise that something as simple as hairspray could irritate my skin.  That, combined with the fact that I am a massive head-sweater could only make matters worse.

And worse matters got.  I woke up Saturday morning still not feeling great, but better than I had on Thursday and Friday.  My whole head was aching, especially my scalp. I had found substitutes for my cycle classes and tried to rest up until it was time to pick up the cakes for the party and get the kids ready to go.  I was feeling self-conscious about my forehead, and was worried the moms of the kids coming to the party would think I had a bad Botox injection.  I made it through the two hours of Chuck E. Cheese extravaganza and was beat by the time we got home.  Tom went to a bar to watch the Blackhawks game with our neighbors and I sat with the kids while they opened all their presents. I was hoping to lay down for a bit, but by the time I picked up all the wrapping paper, got the toys out of their Ft. Knox boxes they came in and put AA and AAA batteries in everything from a My Little Pony car to a bug vacuum, the kids were hungry for dinner.

Saturday evening at Immediate Care. Fever of 101 and protruding forehead and slowly
 making its way down to the left side of eye. I'll call this look "Bad Botox"

I happened to go into the bathroom and noticed that my forehead was worse.  It was now more swollen and appeared to have traveled down my face and was now just above my eyebrows.  Not to be disrespectful, but I looked a bit like Rocky Dennis from the movie “Mask,” at least in my mind.  I had already Googled a million different illnesses regarding “forehead swelling” and “swollen lymph nodes” and finally thought perhaps I was having a reaction to my antibiotics.  Turns out one of them was swelling of the face, tongue and lips.  I texted Tom that I was heading to Immediate Care and he said he was coming home to watch the kids. 

When I got there, I sat in the waiting room.  Despite the freak show going on with the other people waiting, it seemed even the strangest of the strange were staring at me.  Thankfully I didn't have to wait long and they brought me back to see the nurse practitioner.  He asked me a series of questions and finally told me he was stumped and sent me to see the regular doctor.  The led me back to another examining room and the doctor came in a few minutes later.  She took one look at me and gasped.  She proceeded to ask me several questions and finally informed me that she has never seen anything like this and that my presentation was “very unusual.” I felt like I was on an episode of “Mystery Diagnosis.” She also told me I was running a 101 fever, which I was not aware of.  She told me my next step was to go to the ER where they could run more tests.  I heard her on the phone with the hospital from my examining room as she very dramatically described my condition to the ER doctor.  I started to get scared and felt very alone.  I began to cry just as a nurse came in to give me some Tylenol for my fever.  She tried to comfort me and said it didn't look that bad and just like I had some bad Botox.  What a bedside manner.

I called Tom to inform him that I was on my way to the ER and he said he would get the kids settled in bed and then call me back.  When I arrived at the ER at the hospital down the road, there were even more sideshow freaks, and I was their ring leader.  I thought I would have to wait there in agony with barely any battery left on my iPhone, but as luck would have it, they took me almost immediately.  They drew blood and the doctor didn’t seem overly concerned, but wanted to see the results of the blood work to rule out any major infections or viruses. 

Luckily, everything came back negative and I waited longer for him to contact my primary care physician than anything else.  He thought that I had suffered dermatitis from the hairspray but was not related to my swollen lymph nodes.  He also used the word "irregardless," so I didn't take what he said too seriously being as irregardless is not even a word. His explanation didn't seem very logical or conclusive, but at least my blood work was good.

They sent me on my way and finally arrived home at 10:30 p.m.

Sunday: Avatar Day

The next morning I woke up and found that the swelling had slipped further down my face.  Now I went from looking like Rocky Dennis from the movie “Mask,” to one of the blue creatures from “Avatar.”  I skipped my 10k run, but had agreed to sub a class at a local gym.  Despite my looks, I felt fine and needed to get out of the house.  I also felt the need for a disclaimer sign around my neck saying, “I don’t usually look like an Avatar.”  I went to teach the class and since I had never met any of the people at the gym that I was teaching at, I felt obligated to explain the way I looked.  The whole time, the song “You’re So Vain” kept running through my head.  I taught the class and felt better afterwards, but still had to go on with my day which involved taking care of the kids, picking up and cleaning the house in order for our real estate agent to come over for a meeting.  Much of my usual duties had fallen at the wayside due to my illness and the kids had all their new birthday gifts strewn about the house.  Needless to say, crawling into bed was not an option.

We got everything done, had our meeting and then it was time for me to make dinner and then head to an all-staff meeting at one of the other gyms I work at.  By the time I got home I was ready to just go to bed.  I was able to enjoy a brief moment of rest and relaxation after the kids went to bed, but soon found myself hitting the hay wondering what my face would look like in the morning.

Monday: Battered Wife Day

On Monday morning I awoke to find my swelling had moved slightly further down my face and was now around and below my eyes.  I looked like a battered wife.  I’d have to change my disclaimer sign around my neck to, “No, my husband does not beat me.”

I had a guy coming to give an estimate on our windows and then took Maddie to the bus stop.  Once she was off, I had to get Colin to the neighbor’s house so I could go teach a class.  In the midst of all this other nonsense, I developed yet another infection that is common for women on antibiotics and we’ll leave it at that.  I got the proper medication for that phenomenon and returned home to get Colin from the neighbor’s house, get Maddie off the bus and make lunch for the kids.

My regular doctor who I had seen on Thursday called me to follow up and requested I come in later in the afternoon for an appointment.  Once again, I had to drag the kids to the doctor, but at least this time our visit was limited to about a half-hour.  She offered absolutely no answers and asked me what if I thought I should stay on the antibiotic and if I wanted to see an allergist.  Last time I checked, she’s the one with the doctorate, right?  I told her I’d prefer to stay on the antibiotic and I didn't think seeing an allergist was necessary at this point.  Mainly because my children were, at that point, scaling the walls and I had no desire to see drag my kids with me to see another doctor.  She prescribed a steroid and sent me on my way. I decided that frozen yogurt would be a good post-doctor activity since I clearly needed some active cultures in my diet. Good thing I’m not a doctor because that would be what I would prescribe all my patients!  In the meantime, I got a call from another window place I had called and was ready to come out to give me my estimate.  We arrived home in time for the kids to play outside with the neighbors and for the window guy to measure my windows.

I fed the kids dinner and we were off to the gym where I had to teach my Monday evening cycle class.  I had to open class by explaining why I looked like I had been hit by a shovel and took solace in the fact that the cycle studio is dark. 

Once I put the kids to bed, I finally decided that after five days of having at least 5 swollen lymph nodes, 3 days of fever, 2 trips to the doctor's office, 1 to the Immediate Care, 1 to the ER, 3 different medications and a deformed face that has had me looking like everything from Rocky Dennis from the movie "Mask," to an Avatar, to a battered wife and do diagnosis, I would pour myself a glass of wine.  Seemed like the best medicine to me.  Yet another reason it is a good thing I'm not a doctor.

Tuesday: On the mend.  Must be the wine.

.

One Tough Mudder

Apparently raising my two children isn't enough of an adventure for me.  It as led me to take on insane challenges such as getting up at 6 a.m. on a Sunday mornings to run races, ride my bike for 100 miles and now has come to driving 2 hours to a farm outside Joliet to run 12 miles through mud and obstacle courses that include electrocution and ice baths.

It all started last year when a friend of mine competed in his first Tough Mudder.  He enjoyed it so much, he thought enough to call me and tell me that I need to run the next one with him. Not sure what kind of "friend" that really makes him, but I was flattered.  He ran it with some friends who were a mixed bag of runners and determined that next time he ran it he wanted to run with someone who ran at the same pace.

Now, my dear friend Chris and I met about 8 years ago through a networking group we belonged to while I was still working.  We became fast friends as one of the first things I said to him was "Shut up!" as I gave him a smack upside the head when not only would he not stop talking, but everything that came out of his mouth was nonsense. 

Soon we learned we both had a love of running and found ourselves on the same 5k committee for the Raue Center for the Arts. When we learned we both ran at approximately the same pace, we developed a friendly rivalry. I am convinced has helped make me a faster runner knowing he is always behind me.  And I do mean ALWAYS. Well, except one time I was a pace behind him and he actually spit on me.  It was as good a reason as any never to be behind him again. I think it killed him that he could be beat by a girl. 

Over the years I have gotten to know his family and his wife uses me as a tool to diffuse his gigantic ego.  It seems it is so enlarged, it takes two women to take it on.  Being the ball-buster I am, I gladly agreed to help her out on this task. 
 

Despite our rivalry to keep us on our toes, it seemed 5k and 10k's were getting mundane and even marathons were really just putting one foot in front of the other.  After he asked me to join him on this adventure, I came up with several excuses not to.  Among them were washing my hair, getting a root canal and even thought about getting pregnant exactly 9 months prior to the event to get out of it.  Since I don't have any cavities, a root canal was out of the question. There is the small issue in that I had my husband fixed that prevented me from getting knocked up. 

In the meantime, I did a race called the Muddy Buddy with my girlfriend from high school, another Chris.  We decided to forego mani/pedis, shopping and lunch to do this adventurous course with some dirt, some mud and obstacles.  I think it was 5 miles and the real dirty part came at the end when we had to army crawl through mud.  She and I cracked jokes the whole way through and realized the best training for that race was playing more at the playground with our kids.  We did end up filthy at the end, but once we hosed each other off we sat and relaxed in the farm field and had a few beers.  It gave me an inkling that perhaps I could take on this challenge.

Unfortunately, Tough Mudder makes Muddy Buddy literally look like a day at the park with the kids.  It is 12 miles and has 22 obstacles.  The mud is much more prevalent, the walls are higher without pegs or ropes to help you out.  There's electricity, fire and a great deal of manhandling.

Somehow I eventually caved and agreed to take on this challenge.  Mainly because I caught wind of some guys from high school doing it, and being the competitive chick I am, signed up.

I checked out the course online the night before and both my husband and daughter feared for my life.  I ended up Googling, "What does 10,000 volts of electricity feel like?" It varied from "you will die" to "it feels like a bee sting."  The good news is my friend happens to be an insurance agent, the bad news is we didn't finalize my life insurance policy before the event.

So after all my worrying, excuses on why not to do it and general fear of the unknown, we set out to do the race.  We showed up to the event and the first thing we saw was the finish line that included large patch of mud and water with live wires hanging down that you had to run through.  You could literally hear people getting zapped and them yelling with each charge.  Despite this, we headed for the start line. Let me break it down for you by obstacle.

 

Obstacle 1: Artic Enema

 

A large dumpster filled with ice water that you have to jump in.  Then go under water.  It was one of the obstacles I was most fearful of since I learned that a 27-year old died a few weeks ago after jumping in.  Granted, he had a heart-condition, but still.  It actually wasn't that bad until the dude in front of me took what seemed like 10 years to get out.  I finally got myself up and out and gained some confidence since that one was out of the way.

Obstacle 2: Kiss of Mud

Now that we were cold and soaking wet, we had to army crawl through mud.  At least we didn't have to crawl under live wires on this one. 

Obstacle 3: Electric Eel

Oh, wait.  Here came the one where not only is there about a foot of water/mud, but this time you had to army crawl under dangling live wires.  Luckily I only got shocked twice and I barely felt it.  My confidence level was boosted another notch.

Obstacle 4: Glory Blades

Two walls slanted \ this way making it harder to climb.  I'll admit I kind of cheated on this one and used the two by fours supporting it to climb up and go over the edge/side of the board. 

Obstacle 5: Trench Warfare

Simply put, if you are claustrophobic, this one will be rough.  I am slightly claustrophobic, but usually when it involves lots of people crowding around me and stealing my oxygen.  Luckily, I was able to squeak through this one fairly quickly given my size.  I actually did squeak like a mouse just for effect.

Obstacle 6:  Walk the Plank

We stood in line for 20 minutes like they were giving away $1,000 to each participant.  Rather, we waited for 20 minutes to climb 15+ feet then jump off into cold, muddy water.  As luck would have it, I saw one of my friends from the gym and her husband ahead of me. This one I definitely hesitated on and the only way I finally jumped is because my friend threatened to push me.  I finally did it and felt incredible afterwards.

Right after I overcame my fear of heights and water.  Victory!

Obstacle 7: Log Jammin'

This one reminded me of that episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse where Goofy trains for an obstacle course and his friends help out.  They coach him to "go under, then over, then through."  Except Goofy didn't have to worry about barbed wire.  If you didn't pay attention to the arrows and tried to climb over a log that they wanted you to go under, you might find yourself in some pain.  Overall, this one was fairly easy.

Obstacle 8: Wounded Warrior Carry

You and your teammate(s) are supposed to carry each other across a field.  Technically, you are supposed to switch carrier/carried half way through, but I am not quite strong enough to carry a 175 lb. man, so he carried me.  A little uncomfortable seeing as he's not my husband, but we made it through.

 Please note the photo of him carrying it by himself was merely for effect. 
We carried it together up until this fabricated photo op.

Obstacle 9: Hold Your Wood

Speaking of uncomfortable sexual innuendos among a bunch of men, none of which are your husband...we had to carry a log on our shoulders about a quarter of a mile.  Good times.



Obstacle 10:  Ladder to Hell

Ladder to Hell seeing as Hell for me is anywhere above 6 feet off the ground.  Overall, not too bad except when I had to swing my leg over the top and since I have short legs it was a bit terrifying reaching my toes down to that first rung that was about 3 inches lower than I would have liked.

Obstacle 11:  Hangin' Tough

This ain't no New Kids on the Block song.  Rather rings hanging over 6 feet of water that you have to swing across...or in my case drop down after only making to the second ring and swimming the rest of the way.  Now, I'm a nose-holder and didn't think to grab my nose when I dropped into the water and that was where I gulped in some of the yummy dirty water and struggled a bit with my lackluster swimming skills.  I still made it out alive and kept running.

Obstacle 12: Fire Walker

I had several issues with this.  The first was that I realized I had to jump over a row of flames and into muddy water.  Then the smoke hit me.  I found a spot on the end with relatively little flame and just leapt into the water and up the muddy hill to get out.

Obstacle 13: Dong Dangler

I didn't know that was what this was called until I just looked it up on the event website.  I'm not gonna lie, it made me blush.  We had to hang off a hose that stretched the length of a pond and slide backwards across the water.  I was doing fine until Chris got on and my legs came off the hose.  I got my bearings and actually found that if I put my legs down and just used my upper body it was easier.  Now that I think about it, that was probably cheating, but at this point in the game...who cares.

After some of the obstacles there were long stretches of super mucky mud to run through, but this one was the worst.  I was feeling as if a torn ACL or Meniscus or Achilles tendon or something debilitating would result.  It was like the scene for "Never Ending Story" where the boy, Atreyu, gets stuck in the quick sand along with his horse, Artex. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y688upqmRXo  I found it necessary to yell, "Atreyu" at least three times for comedic value.  Luckily at least 3 people got the joke. Of course it smelled like the horse Artex did his business in much of the mud we came across along with that large flying dog-like lucky dragon, Falcor and a bevvy of other farm animals.
 

Obstacle 14: Berlin Walls

Oh goody!   Next obstacle we had to climb up wall that is at least 12 feet, with no rope or rungs to grab onto.  The silver lining--at least 6 strange men grabbed my ass between the two walls to boost me up and then catch me.  Just a regular Saturday afternoon for Michelle Stien.

Obstacle 15: Mud Mile

 

See, we thought the mile we ran in the mud after the Dong Dangler was the "Mud Mile," but as luck would have it, that was not the case.  This was hills and trenches of mud and water that we had to make our way up and down.  I excelled at this one and was probably one of my favorites.

 

Obstacle 16: Dirty Ballerina

 

No, not my nickname in high school.  Rather an obstacle where we had to leap across a series of trenches of mud and water to the next patch of grass.  I had a little fear kick in on this one because I knew if I missed I would slip and truly feared injury.  Luckily, grace kicked in and I was able to leap over each trench to the other side.

 

Obstacle 17: Underwater Tunnels

 

The sign said, "Strong Swimmers Only."  In the words of Martin Short "I'm not a strong swimmer." http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=martin+short+synchronized+swimming&view=detail&mid=4454A55D244B2AB319674454A55D244B2AB31967&first=0&FORM=NVPFVR

 

While I can't swim a long distance, dive or jump into water without holding my nose, I can hold my breath and go under water and swim for a good stretch.  I had to swim under 4 barrels.  I scared Chris on one set when I waited a minute to get some water out of my nose and he was waiting for me on the other side.  When he saw someone come under he thought it was me, but instead it was a guy, he got a little frantic.  Luckily I appeared a few seconds later.

 

Time to keep running.

 

We were keeping a pretty good pace on the running part and then passed a guy Chris ran with last year who said he started at 9:40 a.m.  We gave ourselves a pat on the back since we started at 10:40 a.m. 

No time to brag.  Time to hit

 

 

Obstacle 18: Twinkle Toes

Basically, this was a balance beam except if you fall off you end up in water.  I was sure that I would fall off, but the night before Tom gave me a vote of confidence and told me that it should be easy for me with all my Pilates and Core strength.  I repeated, "Core Strength, Core Strength, Core Strength" to myself the whole time and made it across!!! 

 

 

Obstacle 19:   Boa Constrictor

 

This one we had to crawl into a tube that slanted downward into a puddle of mud and water and then climb through another tube upwards.  Luckily, I am small enough that I could crawl through rather than drag my self on my forearms and spared some energy.

 

Obstacle 20: Funky Monkey

 

Monkey Bars have never been my strong suit and these were no exception.  I took a clue from the prior obstacle with the rings and simply made the choice to jump in and swim across that water on that one.

 

Obstacle 21: Everest

 

We had to take a running start toward a slippery half-pike and run all the way up it where several men were waiting to grab my arms.  It took me a few tries, but on the fourth try (one of which my partner failed to grab my arm) ran with all my might, got to the top, the guys caught me and the only thing that suffered was my left boob.  Good thing there isn't much there to lose, because I think I left some of it on the edge of the half-pike.

This is how I felt at the beginning of the race at the prospect of getting electrocuted.

Final Obstacle!!! 22: Electroshock Therapy

This was the obstacle we saw when we first got there, and now it was time for us to take it on.  We waited our turn to ensure we didn't get jammed up and stuck in the middle of a bunch of live wires. Finally, it was time to just do it.  I had contemplated just skipping this one, but after the first obstacle with live wires, I wasn't as scared. This final one packed a bigger punch and they were not pleasant, but way easier than giving birth.  Before I knew it I was finished and had a beer in my hand.

 



 

I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment as well as dirt and mud in places there should not be dirt and mud.  Growing up with two older brothers, I always wanted to "one of the boys."  Of course, I'm not exactly your quintessential Tomboy and have a great deal of fear for the unknown. I could barely do the slip 'n slide in the backyard, never jumped off the high dive, never climbed trees or made mud pies. Hell, I did speech and theatre in high school and didn't realize my athletic potential until my late 20s. Instead, I developed a big mouth and I've been known to talk a lot of trash. However, doing Tough Mudder allowed me to not only talk the talk (seeing as how I dropped more F-bombs during this event than I have in my entire life), but to walk the walk.  I felt extremely strong and empowered, not only because I endured the physical aspect, but I overcame the mental challenge of the course.  I learned that the only thing that held me back on any of the obstacles  was my own fear, not physical ability. 

 


I also learned something about my friendship with Chris.  In my life, I've always had my brothers pushing me to do more, be better and overcome obstacles.  Sometimes their "encouragement" came in the form of sitting in the stands of my little league softball games making the buzzing sound of hair clippers because they threatened that if I didn't get a hit, they'd shave my head. Seems Chris now fills this role in my life especially when he threatened to push me off the 15 foot drop.  But most importantly, like my brothers, he was also there to cheer me on, give me encouragement and give me a high five when I completed a task despite my hesitation.

 

Mission accomplished.

Last night a dreamt of being electrocuted and climbing piles of dirt and mud. Today I'm a little sore and I'm still cleaning dirt out from under my nails and toe nails. In fact, Maddie just informed me I still have dirt in my ear despite taking 2 showers.  I'm slightly bruised, a little scratched, but overall I'm glad I got talked into doing it.  I am a little concerned about a staph infection or a mean case of dysentery will set in, but now the question remains, will I do it again?  I have a feeling this will be a bit like childbirth, I will conveniently forget all the pain and suffering soon enough and end up doing it again.

 

Mother of the Year

Well, here we are.  I feel like I found an old friend who has been missing in my life for awhile.  A friend that keeps me on task.  One who lets me pour out my feelings when I need to vent.  A friend who has all the answers and gives me varying opinions on different issues.  After almost a year without, I have a new laptop.

I was feeling down in the dumps.  I felt like I was missing an appendage; Like I had my leg or arm amputated. The kids would do something funny or I would come up with some profound thought on parenting, and by the time I would make my way upstairs to write it down, I would end up forgetting it or get pulled in a different direction.  I would find a load of laundry to do or realize that the dog had gone through the garbage in the bathroom and I'd have to pick up the mess.  When I did make it to the computer, within three second of sitting down both kids would be jumping on my bed or wrestling each other or harassing the cat.

I had made a proclamation last year on my birthday that I would publish a book which meant taking all my blogs and compiling them, editing them and either self publishing or sending it to publishers and/or agents.  Never happened.  I also proclaimed that I would start writing another book and I got about two chapters completed before I was off on another tangent somewhere else.

I felt like I failed at being 35. 

My 36th birthday rolled around and felt like I had to offer up a mea culpa for not following through on my goals.  Instead I just chalked it up to lack of technological convenience with a dose of life that got in my way. 

So, here I am.  Back at my kitchen table without any beverages around to fry my motherboard, and I feel like I'm home again.  My friend has returned and Colin has only tried to hit my spacebar three times since I sat down to write this.

I would be remiss if I didn't offer up some good stories to get me back in the swing of things.  As luck would have it, Colin was on fire yesterday providing me with a variety of blog fodder. 

He started the day screaming and crying before he even opened his eyes that he wanted the Lightning McQueen and Mater spaceships.  I could only figure he was dreaming about buyers remorse since he got Lightning McQueen and Mater airplanes a few days ago.  It took from 6:15 a.m.-7:00 a.m. to talk him off the ledge and calm him down.

We got Maddie off to school and as I was getting some stuff done around the house he informed me that he was going to get his ears pierced.  Not sure where that came from, but I assured him that he would not be getting his ears pierced at the age of 4.  We left the house to run some errands and I looked in the rearview mirror to see him trying to stick his head out the window.  He explained that he was a dog and wanted to feel the breeze on his face.

We returned home in time for Maddie to get off the bus and then played outside with some of the neighbors.  I realized quickly that this is going to be a long summer trying to get anything accomplished because I will spend half my time arguing with the kids to come inside.

We are putting our house on the market and as a result I have a lot of cleaning, painting and packing to do.  I tried to clean out Colin's closet yesterday and within 5 minutes, both kids were in the 8x10 room "helping me."  I told them not to touch anything, so they started beating the crap out of each other.  I had to clarify what I meant by "anything," which meant each other as well.

I promised if they would just give me a few more minutes I would take them back outside.  Colin got sick of waiting for me and went outside on his own.  I made sure he was just in the backyard, which luckily is fenced in, and then finished what I was doing.  I came downstairs a few minutes later to start dinner before we went outside and was able to watch him through the kitchen window while he played with some trucks.  I was a little worried about him being out there by himself, but figured the dog was with him so he would be fine.  It wouldn't be the first time I used our dog as a babysitter.  Just kidding.  No, seriously don't call DCFS on me.  Only in Peter Pan could the family use Nana the sheepdog as their primary caregiver.

Apparently between Daisy and I we didn't do that great of a job watching Colin because before I knew it, he was at the back door knocking.  I opened the door to find him standing there with his pants down around his ankles.  I asked if he had peed in the yard and he said, "yes."  Then I thought enough to clarify and ask if he peed in the grass or his pants while in the backyard.  Unfortunately, the answer was his pants.  By the way, I can't imagine where he learned that he could relieve himself in the yard ; ) 

Did I mention that not only was he standing there showing off his family jewels, but he was also wearing his pajamas?  He likes to jammie up in the afternoon and didn't bother changing before he went in the yard.  At least he had shoes and socks on.  It occurred to me that our lawn service was due to come mow our grass, and could only imagine if they walked into our backyard to witness our real life hillbilly haven.

Once I got dinner on, I took the kids outside to play with the neighbors before Colin had to go to karate.  A half hour later, I was so busy arguing with the kids to get in the car, I didn't realize Colin had brought out two trucks and that our back gate was open.  Tom mentioned that when he got home he found Colin's trucks on the front stoop (thanks to our neighbors) and the gate wide open.  I admitted that it could be due to the fact that I let Colin outside on is own without supervision and that the worst of it was him dropping trow not leaving toys out or the gate open.  He chose to just walk away from the conversation.  I'm hoping it was because he realized that the only way I could get anything done to prepare the house to sell, for a warm meal to be waiting for him when he got home from work and to ensure our kids were playing outside was to let some things slide.

 

Needless to say, I continue my solid campaign for Mother of the Year, but at least now I can write all this shit down.

The Finish Line

I can’t tell you how many times I have crossed a finish line at a running race, but I can tell you I will never cross another one the same again.

I heard the news about tragedy at the Boston Marathon yesterday and was in utter disbelief that something like this could happen.  While most of the races I have run in the past have been without fear, I did run the Chicago Marathon one month after 9/11.  The next year I ran the Marine Corps Marathon just days after the Beltway Snipers were caught after a several weeks of shootings.

At that time, I was working in the city across the street from the Sears Tower and had settled into the post 9/11 mindset where nothing was safe and everyone was always looking over their shoulder.  Neither of those instances prevented me from running either race, or from people coming out in grand gestures of humanity to cheer on the runners.

Of course, there was still that feeling of fear in the back of my mind and heart that took away from those experiences.  Just as those memories faded, I’m reminded once again that anything could happen at any time that could put our safety and our families’ safety in jeopardy.

There truly is something special about the finish line of a race whether it is a 1 mile race, a 5k a 26.2 marathon or a 100 mile bike race.  I remember my first 5k so vividly where I could barely make it the last stretch, but somehow that 6- letter word, F-I-N-I-S-H, got me through until the end despite my desire to stop.  As I became a more accomplished runner, the finish line drew my attention to the clock and my desire to beat my personal record.  It was a time where I dug deep, and it became just as much a test of my psychological ability as my physical ability.  I can honestly say that in spite of it all, I almost always crossed the finish line with a smile.

As you are approaching the finish line, you think about all these people out there who have put weeks and months into their training.  You think about all the people who have sacrificed their time and energy to condition their body to accomplish this goal.  You think about people who set out to do this race who have never run a race before.  You think about people who are in their 60s and 70s who have been running their whole life before running races became popular.  You think of all the money that was raised in the name of the organization associated with the race. You get a rush of adrenaline from the spectators and you look forward to the congratulations you receive at the end, not to mention snacks.  If you’re lucky, you get a medal, but that’s really just the icing on the cake after all that you’ve achieved.

When I continued to run races after I had a family, I could almost always count on my husband and kids to be there cheering me on at the end.  Forget the finish line or the clock; I had smiling faces clapping and excitedly jumping up and down to get me to the end.  I didn’t care if I had to sacrifice 10 seconds off my time to slow down and blow kisses and wave at my kids.  My husband asked me once if it bothered me that he didn’t run races and I told him his biggest contribution to my running is being there with the kids there to cheer me on.

When my husband did decide to participate in one of the races I not only ran in, but helped organize, I pushed the kids in the jogging stroller and felt a new sense of accomplishment pushing them over the finish line with a very respectable time despite the 90-plus pounds of added resistance.  I was proud of the runner, mother, athlete that I have developed into over the years.  Running races has become a family affair and now I have to think about the risk running these races involves not just for my own life, but for my own family.

In just a few minutes I will leave the house to attend a meeting for another 5k race that I help organize, and I am sure our focus will shift beyond bibs and t-shirts to safety and security.  A moment of silence for the victims and their families' will likely be added.  A somber addition to a normally joyous event.

I could barely watch the reports on the news and the graphic details of all the tragedy and carnage in Boston.  However, right before I was about to change the channel, they interviewed a few runners from Chicago who survived and were not injured.  Their sentiments were all the same; this event would absolutely not deter them from running the Boston Marathon again, or any other race for that matter.  It made me proud to be part of this incredible running community. My perspective has shifted, but I will continue to run races despite my fears.  As with most runners, there will be a new thought crossing their minds’ as they cross the finish line because it goes without saying, we will never forget.