Mantras

When I ran the half-marathon last year, I read a lot on strategies and training plans to run long distances. Most sources said you should pick some "power words" or a "motivational phrase" to keep you going when things got rough. When your mind went to that negative place of wanting to quit and give up, you said your motivational phrase to help refocus you and get you back on track. And it kind of worked. I think it might work better for people who don't have constant conversations with themselves.
My motivational phrase was "You can do it".
At mile 3, I said,"You can do it" and I smiled smugly, believing I could.
At mile 5, I said, "You can do it" and I cocked my head and shook it slightly, "I'm not so sure, it's still a long way to go." "You can do it" I said sternly to shut myself up.
By mile 8, I was having full on discussions with myself :
"You can do it."
"No, I can't. It's another--lets see, 8,9,10, 11, 12, 13--(you can't expect me to do math and run)--5 miles or so. I'll never make it."
"Yes, you can. You ran 13 miles in your training. You were fine. You didn't die."
"Yea, I got lucky. I'm pretty sure I'll die now."
"No. You got this. Just keep moving."
"Easy for you to say. You're just my brain. Lungs and legs, on the other hand, have a different opinion."
And so on, until, wow, look I made it to mile 9.
By mile 10, the argument had devolved to:
"You can do it."
"No, I can't."
"You can do it."
"No, I can't."
By mile 12, I could sense the end. I thought maybe I would make it after all. But if there was supposed to be a surge of energy that came with that knowledge, I didn't feel it. But I gave up aruguing with myself. I just repeated the mantra "You. Can. Do. It." dragging each word out with each ragged breath. I think by the time 13 miles came around and I saw the finish line at the bottom of the hill, I had just forgotten how to stop. But I was still pretty elated when I crossed the line, and I could stop. I was dissappointed that I hadn't run as fast as I wanted, and that it had seemed so hard despite all my training. But I couldn't help feeling proud that I had at least run the entire way.

Just like I know there are millions of people who have run a half-marathon, and tons who have run an entire marathon, I know there a lot of people who are dealing with stuff right now, a lot of them dealing with stuff harder than what I have to deal with. But still, this is hard.
It is hard being away from Brian for so long. I miss his reassurance, his optimisim, and his practicality. I miss his shoulders--to lay on, to cry on, to lean on.
It is hard to be everything for the kids. To be their taxi, their scheduler, their advocate, their teacher, their friend. Especially when there seems to be too little of me.
It is hard to leave this place. To leave friends, to leave places, to leave the comfort of knowing what is for the uncertainty of what could be.
It is hard not worry. About whether the house will sell, what should we do to sell the house, what should I get ready for the movers, how do I transfer the kids smoothly, how do I comfort them, etc. etc.
It can almost be overwhelming sometimes and I want to just quit. It's too hard. But I find myself repeating my mantra for this move. It's not something I picked, necessarily, it just came to me one day and I repeat it whenever I feel burdened down with all I have to do, all my worries, all my guilt--"Faith is better than Fear."
There is no arguing with a statement like that. "Faith is better than Fear".
So I will have faith that everything will work out for the best. I will have faith that North Carolina will be a good place for us. I will have faith that our family will be stronger and better. And I will have faith that I can do this. I may not do it the best way, or the way I wanted to, but I have faith that I can keep moving.
Faith is better than Fear.
Faith is better than Fear.

Apollo's birth story

It's wierd how life just goes around in circles. 6 1/2 years ago, I was cleaning out our house in Boise, getting ready to move, while Brian squatted in our newly rented townhouse in Virginia with a blow-up mattress, a lawn chair and his computer. At least this time I am not pregnant. And Brian is living in a fully furnished (though equally sad) apartment with a new house waiting in the wings. And it was 6 1/2 years before that, that we left Boise the first time--just after Christmas, pregnant (with Tritan), to go to school in AZ. See, we just keep going in circles.
We settled down in Virginia pretty quickly. We knew we were only going to be there for 2 years, so we took advantage of the cheap transportation and free museums and went into the city often. The townhouses allowed us to make quick friends with our neighbors and I soon found myself involved in the ward, and a great Mom's group in the community.
I found a dr. right away. I didn't love him, but I didn't hate him, and after 3 kids, it didn't seem to matter anyway. I didn't find out what sex Apollo was, but I hoped he would be another girl. It just seems like good symmetry to have two of each.
He was due around Thanksgiving, so I didn't bother to make a Thanksgiving meal that year. We went down to the corner Subway and had turkey sandwiches instead.
Mom was due to fly in the next day. I started having contractions early that morning, but I laid down, hoping to postpone them til she got in. I went with Brian to pick her up--I didn't want to be alone, in case the contractions came back. Sure enough, on the ride there, the contractions came back, strong and consistent. We dropped Mom and the kids off at the house, and drove to the hospital. At least we made it in time that I could get an epidural this time, though it only half worked. It was still better than going all natural.
I think Apollo was scared to death they were going to drop him when he came out. He clung to everything he could reach. As soon as the pried the blanket or finger or whatever from his grasp, he would reach for something else. I'm not surprised that he is still deathly scared of heights.
He was beautiful--bright blue eyes, and dark hair, with just a tuft of blond over his left eye. I quickly fell in love with him--and I never regretted him not being a girl. He was my easiest baby by far. He nursed well, he was hardly ever fussy, he slept well. People assume that when I say 2 of my babies were planned, and 2 were a surprise that Apollo must have been one of the surprises--3 years after 3 kids 3 years apart (see that repetion again)--but no, I knew I wanted one more. In those crazy years of 3 babies/toddlers, my hands were more than full; they were overflowing--yet I always felt like someone was missing, and kept looking in the backseat to make sure all 3 carseats were full. (Yet who could blame me for hesitating just a little?)
Once Tritan and Athena were both in preschool, I thought, what a great time to have another baby. In 9 months, Tritan would be in kindergarden, and Paris and Athena would be in preschool and I could be alone with the baby in a way I hadn't been able to since Tritan was my one and only. I daydreamed about rocking the baby to sleep in the afternoon, drinking in all his new baby smells, for once documenting everything in a baby book...
What really happened was that Tritan ended up with afternoon kindergarten, and Athena and Paris with morning preschool. We spent most of the days driving to schools, dropping off, picking up, hurrying from one thing to the next. Apollo spent most of his naps in those wonderful convertible carseats, and my arms got buff carrying him around. They put me in as YW President 6 months after he was born, and then it seemed like Brian got to see him more than I did. I would come home from an activity and they would be watching Lost and eating Krispy Kremes.
But I also knew he was my last. I knew that our family was complete, as sure as I knew he was missing before. So whenever I got a chance, I drunk in all that good, new baby smell--from sour milk to baby powder, and held him whenever I could. Sometimes I half-wonder if his small size isn't from my sheer willpower to keep him small and cuddly forever.
And so when he wakes up with a bad dream, and asks to sleep in my bed, I let him snuggle in. When the older kids protest that I never let them do that, I shrug. I guess it's one of those things about being last...

Apollo turns 7

Apollo turned 7--(7!)-- on Sunday, the 28th. Brian observed that none of our kids' birthdays are ideally located on the calendar--one's just after Christmas, one just before summer, one at the end--but Apollo's Thanksgiving birthday gets the shaft more than the others. Somehow between the last minute Halloween plans and Thanksgiving menu planning, not to mention that early Christmas shopping rush, I always realize Apollo's birthday is coming about the time that I should be mailing out the invitations already.

I offered to throw him a party a week or so after his birthday but reminded him that Brian wouldn't be there. Or he could ask a couple of friends and we would go to the Funplex--where you could go bowling, ride go karts and bumper cars, and play laser tag. After a lot of deliberating he decided on the smaller party-- so Dad could be there.

Apollo with his soccer buddy. His friend had to leave early, so he made new friends at the bumper cars, and ended up spending the last hour with them. I'm not too worried about him moving to a new school, he just makes a party wherever he goes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

So we are all under the same roof for Thanksgiving, so we are grateful. Grateful that Brian has a job, and that despite the fact we are moving yet again, the company has relieved a lot of the stress for us. I'm grateful the kids seem to be taking the upcoming move in stride--we have found a house in Charlotte, and will be closing in the middle of December. The kids will start new schools in the new year. I'm grateful we were able to find an existing house that we love and we'll be able to be together as a family sooner than later. Somehow, despite Brian's constant travel, this has been an especially hard separation. And, despite how hard it's been, I'm thankful for this experience. I've learned to separate people's criticism of my house, yard, wardrobe, and let it slip off me (somewhat). I've learned that given enough time and motivation, I keep a very clean house (just don't look in the drawers). And I've learned that I can't do everything--I have to say no and ask for help and invariably my friends are there for me. From helping me get my house ready to show, to taking care of my kids on a one-day crazy trip to Charlotte and back, to driving a half hour to help me with a flat tire, my friends have been my family. Thank you every one.

Soccer Cup Day

Paris and Apollo ended their soccer season this Saturday. They both went out with wins although their seasons were a little rocky this year. Apollo started out having a good time chatting with his team mates, but by the end of the season he was all over the field, kicking balls. I asked him what changed, and he shrugged and said, " I guess I just grew up."
Paris is the play maker of his team. He can handle the ball really well and set up for the forwards (he plays half-back).
Luckily, Brian was in town this weekend, so he got to see their last games. Here are some pics from my new camera. There are a lot of options with this camera, and I am having fun trying to figure them all out.

Grandma and Grandpa come for a visit

Mom and Dad came out last week when the kids had a few days off school for teacher workshops. They spent a few days with the Amish before coming over. We went to Valley Forge:

And the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and the Constitution Center (my batteries failed that day, so these are of the Constitution Center, which we haven't visited before. It's a great museum with a live performance and great displays).

Apollo is sitting on the lap of a distant relative--Ben Franklin!

We also shopped for Christmas, so Mom wouldn't have to worry about shipping. Then we just decided the night before they left to go ahead and celebrate Christmas while they were here. We popped in a Sausage Casserole, made some hot chocolate and played Christmas music. The kids didn't have a chance to get anything for Grandma and Grandpa but it didn't stop them from presenting them with gifts--Paris and Tritan made an i-pad holder for Grandpa's i-pad from a granola bar box and a Union soccer team fan flag. Apollo made a stuffed animal from pom pom balls and Athena gave them coupons for free babysitting.

The i-pad holder


The kids got boots and earrings for Athena, and their favorite lego sets for the boys and I got a new camera, so look for better pictures in the future!

It was great to have some visitors with Brian gone. We loved re-visiting some of our favorite sites. And they were a great help--raking leaves and doing some deep cleaning. We loved having them!

Soccer friends

Apollo is playing soccer this fall. He's not quite as aggressive as Paris--he likes to spend his time on the field gabbing with the other players. Once, when he was playing defense, his goalie had to come break up his little tete-a-tete and tell him to help him out. Another time he ran off the field, had a drink, talked with us a while, then ran back to play. But today he played goalie and made a good save, ensuring his team the win at 1-0. He was pretty proud of himself. He and a neighbor boy are on the same team and have become fast friends. His friend pronounced that Apollo "was not his brother. But almost."