Running Scared

I want SO much to be a runner. 


I see people all the time running and it looks so effortless, so easy. One of my dearest friends in the entire world is a runner and she will casually drop lines like "After running 15 miles this morning, I need a glass of wine." Wow. Because I wouldn't run 15 miles to GET a glass of wine. And I love wine. A lot. 


I could walk 15 miles. I can easily drive 15 miles, but I would love to run. Runners are so fit, so healthy, they have awesome running gear and their metabolism is freakish. But it seems like a lot of work. Frankly, too much work. Especially when I see them running in the rain or in the freeing cold and all they have on is lycra pants and thin jacket with earmuffs. Oh, you aren't freezing because your core body temperature is 1billion times that of mine? Well, I am drinking hot chocolate, so I hope you slip on black ice. 


Since I quit smoking, I have a lot stronger lung capacity. Weird, I know. I wonder if the medical community knows... Anyway, I wonder if I could do it now. I have looked into some "Beginner Running" tutorials and it seems like if you start slow, you can build up. My problem is that I am not  graceful person.  I am pretty sure I have the knees of a 90-year-old man. I am confident there is more shaking and jiggling going past than lean, toned runner. But, I have not given up. I am hoping to get some confidence to try one of these programs. I should probably get some new shoes and a cool running outfit just in case. And refill my inhaler. It is going to get cold soon, so maybe I should just wait until spring. That is probably what I will do. 


As I have done more research than running, I found this and it made me laugh so hard, I cried. Then I cried because there is a lot of truth in this:

Photo: Pinterest

Memories of Motherhood, Year 2

I went back to re-read my journal from the night before Sweet B's first birthday. What a difference a year makes. I had been planning her party for, no lie, 2-months and was probably more sleep deprived than anything when I penned those musings. Or, I only had a single year under my belt. Let's say it is a combination of both just for posterity. As I can now update my resume to include 2-years of Motherhood, here is what I remember, hold dear and have learned. Probably want to get a pen and paper.

1. It is ever evolving. 
Man, is it ever. While I clearly knew that going in, it has shocked me how every day is different. Those days add up to lapsed time that I don't realize is changing us. When Sweet B was an infant, we had lots of downtime and routines. Mainly, because I was scared to death of veering from the carefully crafted plan I had devised for feedings, play, and sleep. Also, if someone else is napping in my house, chances are, I will be too. But it seemed like one day I woke-up from that nap and she was always moving. Now, we are having actual conversations, she can sustain attention to do activities, and sometimes, I can rationalize with her. Sometimes. She is a little adult now. So many times I find myself wondering "How do you know that?" But she is changing every day. Thankfully, I am still young enough to keep up.


It is also changing because just when you think you have it all figured out, BOOM! Hail Mary pass to win the game. You lose. If ever I get confident in my mothering skills, I simply stop, and wait for the other shoe to drop. Sweet B can sense I am getting comfortable...


2. It is a constant contest, whether you know it or not. 
While not a competitive person, I am constantly aware of being judged. I contribute that 100% to my low self-esteem. However, motherhood is a constant competition. A competition you didn't necessarily sign up for or that you pray that there is no swimsuit portion.

It probably started when I was pregnant. "Who is your doctor?"  "Where will you deliver?"  "What kind of stroller system are you getting?:" And my favorite, You aren't finding out, are you crazy?"  Yes. We are. Thank you for asking.

Now, (and I am just as guilty of it) you notice all the "observations. "  I shop at Target, I know what clothes come from there. And chances are, my kid is wearing them too. I am a consumer of children's products, therefore, I too know the cost of things. But when you are out, you notice people looking at your gear and judging you. "Oh, you only love your kid "X Brand" dollars worth." Right.

And thanks to Facebook, you can constantly get caught up in "Why didn't I think of that?" Which, if you haven't played, is a super fun game.  The moms who do impromptu art projects and then post pictures, or the perfect family vacations with the kids who appear to have not had a single meltdown. Oh look, they took their kids to some festival I had no idea about. Their kids will probably get into Harvard now.

Even better is the competitive nature that comes with the scale of Birth to Weight. Meaning, how old is your child and are you still losing baby weight or are you just agreeing to be that fat now? I love the moms wearing their seven jeans out of the hospital. Two-years later, I am still wearing maternity tank tops. Yeah, I am.

But in that, comes the back story that I have learned always exists. You learn that their $1200 stroller system came from Ebay. You learn that right after that perfect beach photo, a jellyfish attracted to smocking, attacked their child. You learn that the festival was more of a block party and they crashed it. You learn that those jeans fit because mom never eats.

I have learned that it is okay to use so much of that as motivation, but not to let it make me crazy. I know it only gets worse as kids get older, but if I can try to get a handle on it now, then I will require less medication later.




3. It only gets better. 
Now that we are looking at the future with Sweet B as a child who doesn't just swing and poop, it is so exciting. I keep thinking of things I cannot wait to experience with her. All the fun stuff that I enjoyed as a child that I cannot wait to show her. My mom was really good about sharing things with us like classic movies,  or little field trips to see fun stuff. I am so excited thinking about getting to share all of that with her. In addition, I have planned about 900 mother/daughter trips for us in the future. This is assuming that she still loves me when she is older. If she is a typical teenager who is too cool for her mom, I will drag her to ALL of this fun and embarrass the hell out of her. That, is a promise.

Again, it is just the 2-years under my belt. This list next year could be VASTLY different.

Don't Know Jack

Each Girls Night Out (GNO), my dear friend, Claire Dunphy brings chips and salsa. Specifically, baked Tostitos and the world's greatest salsa ever manufactured this side of the Chimichangian border. 


And, like a moth to a flame, I Kobiashi almost the whole thing myself. I can forgo the cookies, the cheese and crackers and any kind of "I saw this in Southern Living and thought I would try it. Can you believe it only has 10 sticks of butter?" But the chips and salsa, they call my name. 


Finally, I asked Claire what kind of salsa it was. If you recall, I am not the most strong willed person when it comes to abstaining from delicious treats. Therefore, I feared that if I knew the origin, I may just be buying this for myself on a thrice- weekly basis. But I had to know. It was killing me. What if Claire moved away without me ever knowing? How would I ever find that Heavenly salsa again!?!?!!??!


She told me the brand name and the exact coordinates in Kroger where I could find it. Now all I needed was a reason to buy it...


So, I made one up. And off to Kroger I headed. 


I am not going to say that the Kroger company has asked me NOT to bring my kid with me, but let's say she doesn't love the overall experience of "Krogering" just yet. But I knew this was a really quick in and out trip, so she could manage. I had a quick list and about 900 goldfish as bait; she would be fine.  I walked in and to the exact place where Claire had told me the salsa would be. I figured the light shining down from Heaven would also help guide me. 


No salsa. 


Claire had told me the brand name, which I knew was Nick's. I saw El this and La that, but no Nick's. There was no Nick's. I broke out into a cold sweat. Frantically, I ran to seek help. An older gentleman came over to help me with my search. We plowed through the specialty salsa. "Was it Picante" he asked. Picante, I thought. Are you out of your freaking mind? This is SPECIAL salsa. It is with the fancy cheese. Get it together, man. 


No Nick's. I was devastated. Sweet B was not helping, but rather getting fussy. Could I go to another Kroger? Should I call around? Is this something I can order in volume and have sent directly to my house so that this never happens again?  Could I find this Nick and marry him and become some sort of salsa heiress and live in a world where I would never be without Nick's salsa again? 


"Oh, here is Jack's salsa. Is that it" asked my helper.


"Yes, Jack's. That's what I said." 


Jack's salsa. It's called Jack's. Like as in "Jack Ass blonde freaking out over by the fancy cheese and the Jack's salsa."

Photo: 1cupawesome.com

Sticks and Stones

I really got my feelings hurt this weekend. 


Worse than that, I have been mad at myself for letting it bother me. And I know, sticks and stones, but sometimes, you have a few scrapes and bruises for the wear.


Without getting into too many specifics, it happened in a social setting and alcohol was involved. That is basically my "bless your heart" or "with all do respect"  for the following paragraphs.


It was pretty much a backhanded compliment that was relayed to me, about me, in a loud, degrading tone. And while it wasn't any words that begin with A, B or C, it was a like a linguistic slap across the face.It wasn't an attention getter or a big draw of a crowd. It was just the two of us, at a table.  I am seldom shocked anymore, which I blame completely on reality TV, but this, this shocked me. It was definitely one of those times where I was left thinking of 100 million things to say, but chose to remain silent. Which was most definitely in my best interest. That sounds a little more Jersey Shore than I am proud of, but I was proud of myself for letting it go. Because I am NOT good at letting things go.


But it was one of those interactions where later, as I reenacted the whole scene again and again for JD with the precision of Maya Rudolph, I got so worked-up. Hard to imagine, given I am so calm, but stretch your imagination. I was so angry and hurt, I just kept saying things like "Can you believe that?" and "I just stood there and took it. Who does that?" I did, apparently. 


For all the sharp-tongue barbs I can throw about celebrities, or as catty as I can be about stage moms or general morons in society, I really would, in all sincerity, rather die than hurt someones feelings. As daring as I may seem at times and with the electronic courage I have from this blog, I wouldn't have the audacity to  say something like that to someone. For reasons which are many; I am afraid of being punched in or around the face, I cannot outrun anyone and I am not followed by reality TV cameras and writers. Oh, I also hate confrontation. 


Waking-up the next day, it was all I could think about. Why are girls so awful? Why do we say horrible things to and about each other? Is is all based in jealousy or is it because that is truly, the nature of our beast? I ran through the gamut of emotions on the subject; defensiveness, hurt, anger and revenge. Then, I settled on pity. For me and for her. I was still feeling sorry for myself for being accosted, but I was also feeling sorry for her.


Because I let myself belabor this incident, I kept running it over and over again in my mind. JD had tried to console me with phrases like "She was the drunkest person there" or "I can't believe you are letting her bother you like this." It isn't that I am better than anyone else, that is certainly not the case. And the alcohol did play a part, but I am a firm believer that a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. How long had she wanted to say this to me? Why was this weekend the perfect storm? Were the planets aligned, was this an equinox thing? Did I miss Haley's comet? If it was the alcohol, that gave her the courage to finally say that to me, then maybe it is a positive thing. At least now, I fully know where I stand with this person. Ultimately, that is something I can handle. 


If I know that you dislike my laugh, I will make a conscious effort to dull it around you. If I know that I am too loud for you, I will try my hardest to soften my tone. If it is the sarcasm that you hate, I am happy to leave it at home. As long as I know the rules, I am happy to play. I didn't like the idea that maybe she had been harboring these feelings for a long time. It made me wonder how many times I had been with her before that she was secretly loathing me. 


I took what she said about me and put it away. Today is a new day, and I have vowed to myself to really try with all my might to let it go. I am still stunned, but that is okay. I haven't been stunned in a while, I was due. What I am struggling most with, is that I don't want to be changed because of this. Like in a negative way. I want to keep on being the same girl I always am, the same kind of friend I thought I had been to this girl, and know that it isn't for everyone. Some people will just walk away or separate themselves, the move will clear a lot of this up, and some will get really drunk and tell me exactly what is on their minds. I respect honesty more than almost anything. So I should be focused on the fact that she had the nerve to say exactly what was on her heart. However, I respect it on an even playing field. Either we are both drunk and spewing vile or neither. 





I would say that by Wednesday, I will have found something completely new to obsess over. I borrow most of my own worry, so that isn't an issue. It is just kind of a weird feeling to be an adult and have your feelings hurt. I kind of thought we were done with all of that. 


But for the record, "I know you are, but what am I?" is what I should have said. For starters...

Debbie Does Dallas and Heather Does Make-Up

I love make-up. I love products, brushes, paints, lacquers and lipsticks. I believe every lie they tell you about firmer skin, youthful glow and celebrity lookalike. 


But I am not super adept at application. I get distracted, (what?, what's happening?) or hurried or just bored. Later, I see people who actually take the time to artistically put on their make-up and think, "Wow. Pretty....."  I also whisper a solemn vow that the next day, I will take time to learn to apply eyeliner that resembles a straight line and not a fault line on a map. 


No. Never happens. 


When I was 14 and gave in to wearing make-up at my Mother's insistence, I, was taken to the Clinique counter for the following:


1. Moisturizer
2. Blush
3. Mascara
4. Lip gloss
5. Toner/Facewash


The sales girl also sold my Mom on something called an eyeshadow base, which was funny, because I was not getting eyeshadow. However, this would brighten my eyes to give them a little glow. It had a faint appearance of glitter, so I am shocked my Mom let me get it without a lecture about how I present myself is what I will attract and not making mention of the word "whore."


I still have my go to make-up pro's who tell me what to wear color-wise. They also show me how to apply.  But let's be serious; there is lots of loud music and shiny stuff in those places. It's like taking me to a bar to teach me Algebra. 


But one of the blogs I read shared this gem. And I am mesmerized. It is like watching an older sister get ready for the prom. The tricks are really simple, reasonable and not overly time consuming. This girl is also really generally cute, so she can wear anything. 


Now, if you want a real life pro and you are local, you need to check out this gal. Not only is she uh-mazing, but she is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. 


Also, this kid is available. But not with a guarantee. 

FINALLY!

Okay, I think it is working.  If you look to the right, you should see a tab that says "Blog Sale." That should take you to the page with the items. When you are there, you can read the directions on how the sale works. 


Enjoy!

Stuff For Sale

While everyone chose to email me, I had a pretty great response to the idea of a blog sale. Which I am thankful for! So, I will begin working on that this week. 


It will be kind of a smorgasbord of things clothes wise. Especially since it went from 113 to 7. But again, if you are thinking that just because you have self control and don't weigh as much as I do, there will be more than just clothes. And I have varied in clothing size like Kirstie Alley in the late '80's/early 90's. So, it is literally, a wide range. 

Blog Sale

Assuming I get:

1. Drunk 
2. Patience enough
3. Someone to help me

and can figure out how to add a button to link to it, I am thinking of adding a "Blog Sale" page. This would be a page where you guys could see items I am selling from my own, personal collection. 

Very chic, I know. It is your chance to own a piece of Katie Sanderson history. 

Part of my hang-up with this is that it is a little exposing. I would obviously have to list sizes. I will no doubt feel the need to explain those sizes or make a joke about them, so you will have to muddle through that. But it wouldn't be limited to just clothes. I have several other things I am willing to part with as I prep for the move. 

However, this will be a lot of work on my end. I will ship anywhere or deliver in person locally. But, selfishly,  if I am not going to get a response, it may not be worth the work. Therefore, I am looking to gauge interest. If you or your co-workers, roommates, neighbors, friends, cellmates, sister, or absorbed twin think that you might be interested, I would love to know that first. If you could let me know via comment, that would be great. Or, if you want send me a message, please feel free to do so at katiesanderson@insightbb.com.