Pink Day

About a month ago, my SIL called me to ask if I wanted to do the Race for the Cure with her. Without any hesitation I said yes. I've had a 10k on the brain for about a year. On the brain and on the feet are two different things. But this, I thought, would actually push me to do something. And half of a 10k is way more than I'd run in a long time.

I had done this event once many years ago when I lived in Sacramento. It was a fluke thing where I had planned to walk but ended up running the whole way thanks to my buddy who pushed me and cheered me along. That was the first time in my life I had run three miles straight. We didn't even check to see what our time was.

I've run that distance a few times since and hated every single second of it. 

I started out slow. About a 12-minute mile on the treadmill. Then PK suggested I make an 11-minute mile my goal. I ran at that pace shortly thereafter. It was hard work. Once I could run the 5k consistently; albeit slow, I tried mixing things up: four miles at a 12 pace; two miles at a 10 pace. I had no idea if what I was doing was effective in any way, and I didn't have the luxury of time on my side to worry about it.

The day was fast approaching. There was no fighting it. I would do this thing and acknowledge the ladies that did fight and who continue to fight a bigger battle than I can ever imagine.

D went out a couple of days before and bought me a new pair of shoes. His gesture was so touching to me. They were pretty and they were pink.

Unfortunately, the shoes never hit the pavement on race day. I found them on the living room floor when I came home a few hours after the run was over. Lucky for me KK came through and let me borrow hers. 

The weather was perfect and the atmosphere was rockin'.

Running outside proved to be as grueling as I expected. It was for that reason that I didn't set a time goal for myself . Running in the comfort of a climate-controlled environment, on a flat and padded surface is easier than pounding the concrete and taking in the elements. I knew what I was getting myself into, and as long as I ran the whole way at no more than a 12mpm pace, I'd be good.

My SIL, on the other hand, kicked butt. She hates to run and probably hadn't even run around the block in years :), but she trained hard, set a time goal for herself, and met it. In a very short time and with an aching knee. A weaker woman would have used that as an excuse to stop, but not her. Her mom is a breast cancer survivor and her inspiration for the run. She comes from a family of women warriors! I am so proud of her. And I'm sure her mom is too.

Way to go, KK!

I met some figurative bumps along the way as well, the details of which I won't get into here. I didn't push through them like KK did, but up until I stopped at about the 2.87 mile mark I was okay with it. Soon after starting again I saw D and the kids at what I thought was the finish line and I lost it. I don't know who I think I let down, but I was overcome with emotion.

Finally, after what seemed like forevah, I crossed the finish line. At first glance, when I looked at my time, 36.9, my tantrum from a few minutes before was all but forgotten. Today, when I looked at the official results, I felt some disappointment. If the timing chip is to be believed and I came in at  36.3, then the answer to the question of whom I let down, would be nobody. I left the Seattle Center knowing I could have done better, but it would be easier to take if I hadn't come in under my time "goal," if that's what we're calling it. It's like watching your team get beat by one point....you'd rather they just got their butt kicked.

I'll get over it. Or maybe not. But that will be my motivation for next time.

Thanks, KK, for a great day ♥♥

Griswold Out.

(To my kids: I want you to know that I wasn't completely honest  when I told you that I cried because I was tired and just so happy to see you. I was somewhat tired and I was happy to see you, but I was also really mad and threw a tantrum because things didn't go my way ~ yes, the same thing I tell you not to do. A perfect example of do as I say, not as I do. You should also know that when I say  I stopped, I did just that.....I stopped, regrouped, and after about 30 seconds continued on. I never walked :)

Euseb

Most days I'm completely okay with not being a contender for the "Mom of the Year Award." Every once in a while I'll run into a super-cute, super-creative project that SuperMom out in blogland has devised to make the rest of us feel inferior. That inferiority doesn't usually last longer than the time it takes to read it, and with the click of a mouse, it's gone.

It's gone until December rolls around, that is. That's when I really feel the pressure to step up my game. Last year I incorporated the feast of St. Nicholas into our repertoire. Two years ago it was the Epiphany; albeit that's in January, but it all rolls into one when we turn the the page on November. This year I wanted to do something for Advent. And then there's the problem of an unnamed little elf that for the last couple of years has been showing up at the home of several friends and whose sole purpose, I'm convinced, is to cause me anxiety.

Who is this guy and where did he come from? And most importantly, why am I so intimidated by him? I can tell you one thing: If he made his appearance at any other time of the year, I wouldn't give him a second thought. But, alas, he comes in December and if the story is to be believed, some overachieving parents long ago set him on the shelf as a reminder to their young children that they were being watched. It's a cute tale and all, yet it was missing something; it was too Pagan for my needs; in its original form, just one more thing to add to an already-aggressive agenda. Nevertheless, he had my attention. I went back and forth on whether to splurge the 30 bucks ~ yes, 30 ~ and decided against it. I knew if I was going to take this on, I had to find a way to connect all the dots: St. Nicholas, Advent, the birth of Christ/Jesus' birthday.

So I came up with my own. This is Euseb:

I found him at the Dollar Store; not because I'm cheap ~ I looked at a Lladro (at Ross) and a Lenox at Macy's. Both of which were much more money; both of which didn't fit the bill ~ but because he was IT. I named him after my dad. And then I turned into a rhyming fool:

Good Morning, My Friends

I'm glad to be here. I came down from Heaven to spread Christmas cheer.

My name is Euseb. I arrived this morning. Nico dropped me off while you all were snoring.

St. Nicholas is Santa, as I'm sure you remember, He comes every year on the 6th of December.

His story in a nutshell: He gets dropped off by St. Nick in the wee hours of December 6th and that's when our Advent season begins. He's here to watch them. He has a cute little clipboard as his means of communication. Like the elf, he moves around during the night and in the morning when the kids find him there may or may not be a treat for them.

When you get up each morning, come and look for me, and then look all about you to see what you see. Look up to the ceiling, look down at your feet, for you never know where you might find a treat ~ a project, an outing, or something to eat.

Some day's they'll be something; some day's they'll be none, but that doesn't matter; it's only for fun.

It really has been fun. They get up excited every morning to find him. And not once have I heard disappointment in their voices when he's all alone and bearing no treats.

His time to bid us farewell is fast approaching. Tomorrow will be his last morning here. I'm going to miss him.

My job here is done when the hoofs hit the top. I'll then start heading North. Home will be my last stop.

While my visits seem short from beginning to end, each moment is priceless because you are my friend.

Will I miss you? You betcha! You bet your cute rear. But don't you dare worry. I'll be back next year.

They woke up this morning to find out that they were being treated to a special pajama/movie/game day.

There are certainly things to be worked out and questions to be answered. Is he an elf? An angel? Why does he look so much like Santa Claus? Does Santa Claus come two times a year? (That one weighs on me.) Why can't we touch him? Is he magic? How does he get movies at Blockbuster? WOW!

One night early on when I thought M was sleeping, I walked into her room to set him on her dresser. She didn't say anything until yesterday when she proclaimed that I put him in her room, she saw me. OOOPS! She's said several times that he's not real. I'm not sure if she means the whole concept or the fact that he's ceramic and not flesh and bones. My answer is always the same: You've got to believe.

I believe that I really got it right with him. I wish he was a little more flexible; maybe not so fragile, especially since a second trip to the Dollars Store proved a fruitless effort in procuring a backup Euseb. But you take the good with the bad. He gives me the flexibility to customize, personalize, and incorporate him into whatever is going on in their lives year after year. Because I didn't spend $30 on a book, I can change the rules as I go along and blame it on Euseb. "Because Euseb said." Euseb's pretty much had run of the house these last 17 days. His loyalty is unwavering. He's the perfect accomplice to my madness. Every girl should be so lucky.

All business aside, though, he truly brings a smile to my face; an even bigger one to that of my kids. We're really going to miss Euseb and his wisdom.

So on Christmas morning while you're having fun, take a look all around you and see what God's done.

He sent us his son on this one special day. He sent him to us to show us the way.

So please take a moment, or maybe a few, and shout out to Jesus,

Happy Birthday to You!

Uh-Oh HO-HO

In my ongoing effort to tattoo the real meaning of Christmas into the brains of my children, I decided we would celebrate the feast of St. Nicholas.

This is totally new to me. As a matter of fact, I only learned about it the day before at Faith but it seemed like it was just the outlet I was looking for to tie it all in: Santa, Jesus, gifts.

This is the website that tells us all we ever wanted to know about the jolly guy. I'll admit that I didn't go there -- I had no time -- but the tidbits I learned at Faith told me just

enough to throw something together.

Apparently, he was a guy who gave gifts to the underprivileged people of his town, especially to the young women who had no dowry. He would come by their house and throw in three chunks of gold that always seemed to land by the fire; thus the legend of him coming down the chimney. In some countries they put their shoes out in hopes that he leaves a little something inside them, usually Mandarin oranges (three balls of gold), and gold coins.

And the story goes from there, the shoe thing became the stocking by the chimney thing.

Because we put our shoes out on January 5 for the Epiphany, I decided to go the stocking route. And so,

"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there."

J hadn't written his letter to Santa yet, so I thought it would be a good idea to do so and leave it out for him; however, he stayed up doing God knows what and had no desire to do it before heading off to bed.

In the morning we had no time to see what St. Nick had brought. A good thing since there was not a thing, zip, nada, in those stockings yet :)

But by the time J came home from school, we were set. I told him to take a look to see if there was something in there. He wouldn't because "You can't look in your stockings until Christmas." I practically had to twist his arm to walk over there.

Inside they found a note from St. Nick himself in which he praises their "niceness" and points out their "naughtiness" and/or areas that need improvement. He asks them to work on those until his return on Christmas Eve.

He left a little something for each one of them....oranges, of course. An ornament for M, and little Santa chocolates for Jacob that melted because I decided to turn on the fireplace. Hey, it was cold. How was I supposed to know what was in those socks?

He also left J some window decals that for some twisted reason he remembers us buying at Target a couple of weeks ago. Hmm.

So let me get this straight: St. Nick pays a visit on December 6 in the wee hours of the morning to check things out. He picks up the Wish Lists; leaves some small tokens of his appreciation -- for what, I don't know. Poor guy didn't even get cookies this trip; he goes back to wherever he came from, Heaven, I guess; and then decides if the kid is worthy of a present?

Oh, I have so many unanswered questions.....Did he get here on a sleigh? With or without reindeer? Or is he, like J asked, "Magic because he's a saint"?

Is this really my story? Yup, and I'm sticking to it even if my kid thinks Santa is a thief who is trying to steal Mommy's thunder and take credit for his window decals.

I better get on that website and find some answers to my questions before they become J's. But not before making a"Don't read unless you've entered adulthood," label for this very entry.