The Butterfly and the Bear

Goodbye Number 15

Last Saturday and Sunday my sister Robin and I participated in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  You raise a minimum of $1800 and walk 13 miles each day and camp out overnight, so that women and men can get the medical care they need regardless of their ability to pay, and leading research teams can receive vital support in their ongoing search for a cure. This year at the New York 2010 Avon walk over 4500 people walked and raised over $9.4 million towards breast cancer research.  This weekend was one of the most emotional, inspiring and challenging I have ever had and was also one of the best weekends of my life.

When I signed up for the walk back at the beginning of June, I had a lot of trepidation.  I was overweight and out of shape, I had only been blogging for a few weeks, and I had just put my year long list of “resolutions” out there when my sister and I stumbled upon the brochure for the Avon Walk in a boutique.  I had expressed interest in doing the walk in previous years but my weight and lack of athleticism always held me back.  If i was ever going to do it now was the time, I was making big changes, I was trying new things and I was putting it all out there, however old habits die hard and I was still scared to commit.  I sat on the idea for a few days and then on June 1st I took the plunge and posted my intention to participate on the blog, knowing once it was out there, there could be no turning back.  I am so happy I did.  Almost immediately people vocalized their support for me and this worthwhile cause.  I got emails, comments on the blog, texts from family and friends encouraging me and telling me they supported me. 

 From the start the walk was something that elicited both fear and pride in me.  I didn’t want to let anyone down, I didn’t want to let myself down.  I wanted to honor what this foundation is really about; helping support breast cancer research and funding for a cure.  I also wanted to use this amazing cause to make a huge shift in my personal life and how I viewed myself.  I wasn’t the sort of girl who could participate in sports, I didn’t have what it takes to walk 13 miles straight!  And camping out?  I certainly wasn’t that girl either.  I played it safe, I avoided situations that made me feel uncomfortable,  I wouldn’t exert myself out of fear I would embarrass myself.  Now I was not only going to do all of these things, but I was going to do them for a greater purpose.  No excuse would suffice, fear of embarrassment, of failing, of being out of my comfort zone all took a back seat to the fact that I was involved in something so much bigger than me.  In the months leading up to the walk in addition to fund raising I walked daily for an hour with my Terrbear and on weekends walked 3 miles in a local park.  I changed my diet and dropped over 40 pounds.  The fact that I was changing my life in the process of preparing for the walk made it even more positive for me.  

Friday night my sister and I were literally all aflutter, packing our gear, checking off lists, getting everything in order.  I could hardly sleep that night!  I felt like a kid on Christmas eve!  I was nervous, I was anxious and I was excited, I had no idea what the weekend had in store for me but I knew that it would be wonderful.  How could it not?  I’d have my sister at my side and the energy of thousands of walkers to feed off of.  When the alarm went off at 4:45 after a mere 5 hours of sleep I was surprised to find myself energized and alert.  After a shower and some last minute packing and a big cup of coffee we were on the road.  

The trip into the city was short since traffic is light Saturday at 6:00am.  I had joked with my sister that while I may not have had trouble waking up, I am not usually a morning person and if I were the event organizer I would’ve made the start time 9:00 am as opposed to 7:00am.  Robin argued that getting up and driving in while it was still dark out in the wee hours of the morning gave the event a sense of magic and excitement.  As we entered Manhattan and saw the George Washington bridge ahead of us I realized how right she was, every one of the bulbs lining the bridge was illuminated in pink for breast cancer awareness.  It looked like a bridge in a fairytale, it was pure magic.  We parked, checked our gear and after a few pictures the walk had begun!

 The sun started to rise over Manhattan as we walked from West 44th street along the river uptown.  We walked through parts of the city I had never walked before, and probably never would had it not been for this extraordinary opportunity.  We walked up to West 144th, along the river and through the park, circled back down and then began walking through the streets of Manhattan.  Leading up to the walk I had feared and joked with my family that I would be a blubbering mess the whole way.  Whenever I went online and read peoples personal accounts of the walk or read about breast cancer survivors walking I would choke up.  When we were walking I would see people who had pictures of loved ones they lost on their shirts who they were walking in memory of.  Or names written on their shirts to celebrate those who had won the battle and survived.  Each story and each picture would put a lump in my  throat, but I would resist the urge to cry.  I wanted to keep my focus positive, additionally, if I was bawling and hyperventilating it would be hard to walk.  I was surprised to find that while walking I was able to hold it together, except for at one point in the walk.  We were all treking through the streets of the Upper Westside of Manhattan.  Walking among the Saturday crowds of New Yorkers was challenging, in the early hours of the morning when we set out along the river most of the city was still asleep, now people were running errands, shopping, and strolling while thousands of us walkers dressed in pink garb marched through the busy streets.  At one point a whacky local yocal woman was pushing her golden retriever in a shopping cart and weaving in and out of the group of Avon walkers.  I noticed her and was annoyed, what was she doing?  And why was she pushing her dog in a cart?  I could tell other walkers were getting irritated with her as well as she haphazardly wove in and around us.  Suddenly she hit a pot hole in the side walk and the dog flew out of the cart and landed on the ground.  Several of us stopped to help while the crazy lady began crying, “My dog!  My poor dog!”  I looked down and the dog was laying motionless on the ground.  It was alert but clearly hurt, it simply couldn’t move.  A fellow walker who is a vet lifted the dog back into the cart and my sister and I began walking again.  This is how and when I lost it.  I spurted out, “The dog!”  to which Robin replied, “I know.”  and I continued with tears running down my face, “The dog didn’t move.  It was hurt!”  In a cajoling tone she replied, “I know, it will be okay, that woman was crazy but at least there was a vet in the crowd to help her.”  So, I was able to stiffle my emotions for 9 miles, but it was the dog in the shopping cart that broke me down.  

When we hit the last mile for the day on Saturday I got a second wind and started booking it.  I wanted to be in comfy clothes, eating meatballs and getting a massage back at the Wellness Village.  Now.  As I started weaving ahead of the crowd Robin called out, “Mandy!”  Which I knew meant, “Slow the hell down sister!”  She said it was the only time all weekend she wanted to smack me.  I have no idea where I got that second wind from but it would serve me well back at the Wellness Village.  We boarded a bus to the Wellness Village on Randall’s Island, which due to logistics had to drop us about half a mile from the camp.  After walking all day, suddenly a few feet feels like miles.  We hobbled in past the people cheering for us and welcoming us to the Wellness Village and went directly to the massage tent.  Such a smart move on our part, the line wasn’t yet out of control and getting a rub down helped loosen up our tired and tense muscles.  And just in time, because now came the fun part.  We thought the walking was hard, well try setting up a tent in an open field with 40 mph winds.  When you’ve never been camping.  And you’re exhausted.  Oh and did I mention the tents have no instructions and are missing the hooks that keep them attached to the ground?  Robin and I were both at a complete loss, we didn’t know where to begin with the tent setup, it was cold and windy and we were beyond done.  Out of nowhere this sweet, wonderful angel of a woman appears and starts telling us how to set up our tent.  Except while she’s telling us, she is actually doing it!  She pretty much totally assembled our tent for us.  When we thanked her Robin asked her how she knew how to set it up and she replied, “Well I didn’t, someone had to help me and show me so I came and showed you.”  Do you love it?  That seemed to be the pervasive attitude everyone had the entire weekend.  When one of the volunteers would give you a snack, or guide you along the route when you thanked them they would reply, “Thank you for walking!”  Everyone had a smile, everyone was encouraging.  It was such a wonderful, positive energy.  Everyone we encountered not only seemed to want to be there, but they were happy you were there too.  I feel like I am overusing the word inspiring but that is exactly what it was.  Their kindness inspires you to keep walking, to stay positive, to support those around you, to spread that sense of goodwill.  It was lovely.

Once our tent was finally up I was almost comatose.  So I told Robin I was going to blow up my air mattress later, at that moment I just need to lie down. So I opened my sleeping bag and curled in a ball on the floor of our small tent while she set out manually pumping air into her mattress.  It was hard work, I could tell from my vantage point in my sleeping bag.  She was making me more tired just watching her and at that moment I thought to myself, “Yeah, I’m probably going to end up sleeping on the ground like this tonight because I don’t think I am physically capable of blowing that damn mattress up at this point.”  At that moment the daughter of the woman who set up our tent came over with a battery operated mattress pump.  I swear I heard angels singing as she spoke.  These two ladies were total life savers.  Had it not been for them I would have slept in the middle of an open, wind-swept field with no tent and no mattress.  

Tent city, Randall's Island.

We spent a while relaxing in the tent, laughing at the crazy wind and marveling at how our tent remained on the ground each time it felt as if it were going to be airborne.  We took some pics of our hair standing on end thanks to the static electricity, we made friends with our “neighbor” across the way, a man named Michael who was on his 14th walk!  He started walking when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer, and happily she has been in remission for over 10 years.   We blew up my mattress, changed into literally 5 layers of clothes (did I mention it was cold?) and walked over to the dinner tent.  Basically all day I had been yammering away about meatballs.  I had read online that our dinner at camp was going to be meatballs.  Now, I love meatballs, and in addition to that, I am sort of a protein hound.  Along the the route they provided amazing snacks, cookies, fruit, crackers, but no real protein.  I am a total carnivore and when I work up a sweat, I need meat.  Throughout the day I had been chanting “Meatballs, Meatballs, Meatballs.” I think Robin thought it was amusing at first but by mile 12 she was probably a little freaked out.  So we get on the food line and I get my green beans, a little pasta (which I was secretly psyched about since I hadn’t had carbs in over 4 months) and finally, the meatballs.  The server puts 2 on my plate.  I immediately start internally freaking out. That’s not enough!  I wilt like a flower if I don’t get my protein!  I won’t have the strength to walk tomorrow if I can’t get my protein fix!  So I swallow my pride and ask for another.  She hesitated and looked slightly dismayed but in the end gave me another.  When we are finished eating Robin says, “I want more meatballs.”  I’m like, yeah, I know!  Who’s crazy now sister?  So she gets back on the line and asks for more, only she gets a different server who not only says she can have more but gives her 3 more!  It was a a wealth of riches!  And of course she shared with her little sister.  They may have been the best meatballs I ever had.

Me all snuggly in my tent.

Robin snug as a bug.

Later in the evening they have the “Fireside Follies”, the volunteers do skits for the walkers, a little entertainment before bed.  I honestly couldn’t even keep my eyes open after dinner so we went back to the tent, washed up, chatted a bit and I am pretty sure I was asleep by 7:30.  Seriously.  I don’t recall ever being that tired before in my life.  Being outdoors all day, walking long distance, setting up the tent, hauling your gear, and being out in the cold can totally make a girl tired.  I had to go to the bathroom twice that night.  Well that was interesting. I took the little flashlight and exited the tent.  The wind had thankfully died down but it was cold, like high 30’s, low 40’s.  I shuffled thorough the maze of tents to the porta-potties and I am pretty sure that in my tylenol PM haze I was talking to myself, coaching myself on how I was going to find my way back to the tent and convincing myself that the potty wasn’t filthy dirty. My suspicion was confirmed when I emerged and saw a shadowy figure, one of the volunteers, walking past my potty and staring at me like I had two heads.  I stumbled back to the tent and truly, while I was so grateful Robin made me pack a hat, gloves, 2 sweatshirts, and she had bought me the warmest sleeping bag, I have never been so cold in my life as that one night of camping. 

Around 5:00 am I heard my sister leave the tent, being the awesome sister she is she came back a short while later with some coffee for me.  I was bundled in my sleeping bag and it took her a solid 15 minutes of coaxing to get me out of the tent to go to breakfast.  It wasn’t yet light out but the sky over the city was a beautiful peachy pink.  

The Breakfast tent day 2.

After breakfast we went to break down our gear, pack everything up and take down the tent, which was a warm up in itself.  At about 7:15 we walked out of the Wellness Village for the start of day two.  As we exited we were met by the beaming faces and cheers of the volunteers urging us to have a great day and sending us off with smiles and well wishes.  What a way to start the day!  

Setting out on day 2!

We walked along the East River on Randall’s Island, I had been there for Lallapalooza over 13 years ago, I never realized how beautiful Randall’s Island is.  Along the path there was the river on one side and lush trees, and gardens lined the other side.  We crossed  a foot bridge over the river and continued walking down the Eastside along the river and the FDR.  When we set out from Randall’s Island I was mentally patting myself on the back.  While I had gone to bed an achey and sore mess with bleeding toenails (gross, I know) I was actually walking at a respectable pace and feeling good.  Then at mile 5 I hit a wall.  I literally wanted to hail a cab and hightail it to a hotel for a nap.  Everything hurt, my hips, my sad toes, my groin muscles for crying out loud!  I looked around and saw people of all ages, all sizes, all levels of athleticsm powering through.  What was my problem?  I told my sister I felt like I was fading fast and she took the bag I was carrying from me (she carried our backpack both days, did I mention what an amazing sister she is?) and reminded me the lunch stop was at mile 7.  Without the bag weighing me down and the knowledge that lunch was on the horizon I was able to regain focus and push through.  We circled up and around to the Upper West side, above Central Park, another part of the city that was totally new to me and so wonderful to explore.  When we hit mile 6 I was feeling good, everything still hurt but my focus was back.

We arrived at the lunch stop in a public school playground ready to sit down and eat something.  We grabbed our bag lunches provided by God's Love We Deliver (incidentally one of my favorite local charities) and sat down on the pavement to rest.  We took off our shoes and my big toe nails were still bleeding and now I had blisters forming on my little toes, however, nothing too bad.  Robin had a big nasty blister on her big toe that she had to get drained at the medic tent there at the lunch stop and it made walking really difficult for her.  We musterd all of our energy to get up off the ground and hobbled to the bus to take us to the next rest stop, we needed to skip the next 2 miles and regroup.

The next stop was probably my favorite along the route.  Each stop has a theme and the volunteers deck it out and wear costumes in keeping with the theme.  There was a Broadway stop, the Bronx Zoo stop, and this last stop was the “Hope Garden”  It was a small square in Chelsea that they had decorated with flowers and pink ribbons, as you entered you were given a handful of pink M&M’s and a packet of seeds to plant when you went home.  Hanging in the trees were these big, beautiful flowers made by children who had volunteered, they looked like something out of the Magic Garden.  It was when we went over for a closer look and to take a picture that we realized that each petal of the flower had the name of someone who was battling or had battled breast cancer.  It was so beautiful and so touching, we both welled up.  It was such a simple but loving gesture that these kids did and it struck a chord in me.  I had to go to the bathroom before we set out so I hit up the porta-potties, when I shut the door I saw that the ladies at the “Hope Garden” had attached bouquets to the porta-potty doors.  Leave it to them to make something that is otherwise so uninspired so very pretty and unexpected. 

 The Hope Garden

After a few more pictures we headed out for the last 2 miles of the walk.  It was again along the Westside on the Hudson river, back to pier 84 where we had started the day before.  While Saturday had been blustery and slightly chilly, Sunday was sunny, blue skies and warm.  Robin and I walked and talked about how we were so impressed with the organization of the walk, the dedication of all the volunteers, the enthusiasm and joy everyone there seemed to radiate.  How proud we were of ourselves for raising the money and walking all those miles.  As the finish line loomed I started to get excited, I couldn’t wait to see my family!  To hug them all and tell them all about our weekend!  To kiss little Terr-bears sweet face!  We passed the mile 13 marker and had about a half mile to go to the finish and then I saw my Mother, my cheerleader through all of this, in her pink sweater beaming.  I put my arm around Robin and we walked over to hugs, kisses, photos and congratulations.

Me and Robin crossing the finish line! 

My Mother of course cried and made me tear up a bit, however, more than anything it was just a really joyful feeling.  I was so proud of us, I was so honored to be a part of such a wonderful and worthy event, I felt blessed that we had so many people who donated, encouraged, supported, and prayed for us.  Going into the weekend I had been afraid that there would be emotional and mournful moments, that I would get caught up in my head and let my fear of this deplorable disease and what it has taken from so many people dampen my spirits.  Amazingly all weekend the pervasive mood was one of joy, of support, of  solidarity and above all hope.  Then I remembered the name of my favorite rest stop on the walk, “The Hope Garden”.  That is what the entire weekend was about, hope.  And it really was hopeful, it was joyful and it was truly one of the most wonderful experiences in my life.  My sister Sheila signed up for the 2011 walk at our closing ceremony and I am going to be volunteering for crew next year, so I can cheer her on along the route or be one of the many volunteers who support the walkers at the Wellness Village.  If you are thinking about participating in the Avon walk, either as a walker or a volunteer, DO IT!  To be surrounded by positive energy, to be surrounded by hope, and by people who are happy to be alive and are truly living.  It made me hopeful that we would indeed one day find a cure for cancer, it made me hopeful for my own future, for the changes I am making in my life, and seeing thousands of people working together with such grace, pride, and humility made me hopeful for humanity as a whole.  Thank you to everyone who supported us in this amazing journey, for your prayers, your words of kindess and encouragement and your donations.  May you all always feel hopeful.  

 

 

 

 

Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves!

Remember those paddle ball toys, a wooden paddle with a rubber ball attached to it by a rubber band?  Yesterday when my Mother and I were at her house playing with Terrbear and going through the many toys she has for the grandchildren we stumbled upon one of those paddle ball toys.  Seeing this simple, old fashioned, cheap toy brought me back to a memory that when I shared with my Mother I realized almost totally and completely sums up my relationship with my sister Robin.

One summer when I was probably 5 or 6 and Robin was 10 or 11 we were sitting on the sidelines while my Mother played doubles tennis with 3 other women from our town.  A few yards away from us was the son of one of the women.  He was probably a year or so older than me and he was expertly playing with one of those paddle balls.  He was a pro, the ball slapped repeatedly back and forth in a rhythmic fashion, never missing it's target on the paddle and I was mesmorized.  He made it look so easy!  I was sure if given the chance, I would be equaly as skilled, if not more, than he was.  So of course I told Robin I wanted to try it.  Like, really, REALLY badly.  But being a shy kid, I didn’t have the gumption to ask him.  “Just ask him!” she urged me, probably tired of hearing my obsessive soliliqy at this point.  So finally at her urging I went over and shyly asked, “Can I try?”.  To which he without hesitation unequivocally responded, “No.” .  Hmmm, I wasn’t really prepared for that response.  Apparently neither was Robin because when I walked back to her defeated she asked in surprise, “He said no?!  Well, let me ask him.”  Now this is what I really wanted from the beginning, Robin was good at getting her way.  She had an authoritative and slightly bossy demeanor that made kids listen to her and a good-goody vibe that adults adored, there really wasn’t anyone who she couldn’t persuade to listen to her form of reasoning.  So together we walked over and she confidently said, “Hi, my sister Mandy would really like to try that, just for a moment, do you think you could let her?”  Which to my amazement and shock he replied, “NO.”  What?!  Where was this lunatic from?  Just who did he think he was?  So we turned and walked back to our area dumbfounded and vexed.  Until...at some point he went to get a soda and wouldn’t you know it left his paddle ball game neatly sitting on a bench.  So of course we pounced on it and I immediately began spastically slamming the ball into the paddle while it flew back and forth at high speed.  It was all over the place, hitting me in the face, flying from left to right, needless to say I wasn’t quite as skilled as he was.  Suddenly the rubber band attached to the paddle couldn’t take the strain anymore and snapped.  We both froze in horror.  Crap!  What had I done?!  I just wanted to try it!  So what did we do?  We neatly placed it back on the bench just so and made it look like we had never been there and then faded into the shadows.  The poor kid came back, picked it up off the bench and the ball fell to the ground and rolled away.  We felt awful, but what could we do?  Right?  We tried reasoning with him!  We asked politely!  We didn’t want it to come to this damn it!  

When I told my Mother the story after a hearty laugh she exclaimed, “I don’t believe it!  My two little angels!  You and Robin were always so well behaved!  And honest!”  and I said, “I know, but we had our own brand of justice, sister justice.  Afterwards when we felt bad about the fact that I broke it Robin reasoned that it wasn’t really that bad because after all, “if he had just agreed to share it this all never would’ve happened.”  I liked her logic and felt secure that the universe indeed does work in cyclical and mysterious ways.  

Now, I know it was rotten of us to do, and this story aside I swear we really are very nice girls, but sometimes you just need someone to have your back.  Robin always has, and still does have my back.  Tomorrow and Sunday Robin and I are participating in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer (perhaps in light of what undercover hooligans we were as children this will help balance our Karmic bank account a bit?) and together we will walk all day both days, camp out overnight and have raised over $3500 for a cure.  Stories like the paddle ball tale make me realize that this is exactly the type of person who I want walking all those miles with me.  Together we have fun, we laugh, we get each other and of course, we always have each others backs.  If I stumble or make a mistake my sister is there to support me and even put a positive spin on the whole situation.  I am so excited, anxious, exhilarated, proud and moved by this cause and  know that this will be an uplifting and moving weekend, and I’m so happy that the person who has always been my partner in crime, my advocate, my champion, and big sister will be walking with me. I am so blessed to have not only Robin but four hilarious, loving, supportive, and amazing sisters walking with me through life.  

We have been preparing for the walk, fundraising, getting our gear, anticipating this weekend for months.  And it is finally upon us!  It has been such a wonderful experience and the support we have received from everyone in our lives has been inspiring.  Thank you to everyone for their words of support and encouragement, prayers, donations, and positive energy, each and every one of you will be in our thoughts and prayers as we walk towards a cure this weekend.

A Life Inspired

My cousin Cathy posted this on her Facebook wall with the comments, “So inspiring”.  Right now I am all about anything inspiring so I clicked on the link and watched the video about Ben’s journey and was moved to tears.  I feel like he so simply and yet eloquently summed up how it feels to be overweight. Once he was small, a sweet little boy with endless possibilities, then he grew big. And then he became lonely and sad.  Yet he somehow managed to turn it around and monumentally change his life. 

Stories like Ben’s make me realize inspiration is all around us.  We just have to be open to it.  I am not simplifying this nor am I attempting to make this idea seem trite and Disneyfied.  The words “inspiration” and “inspiring” and their variants have been overused in our culture, the newest self help book, Lifetime original movies, last weeks Oprah, are all touted as “inspiring”.  So many times we are fed some hackneyed, corny story and told we should find it inspiring.  Like if we would just have the right attitude, if we were to walk out the door with a spring in our step humming a jaunty tune birds would alight upon our shoulders and the sun would shine down upon us and we will feel INSPIRED!  Inspiration is a personal thing, what inspires me may not move you.  However, if we learn to recognize inspiration in our lives, or at least what we define it as, and use it to motivate us in small ways it can be the catalyst for huge changes.  

For someone like myself who is actively working on making both small and major changes in her life, clicking onto Facebook and seeing something like this only makes me feel more inspired and resolute.  It motivates and drives me.  It reminds me anyone can make changes, you are never too old, it is never too late, and there is no time like the present.  In the span of a mere year you can make leaps and bounds.  In a year you can emotionally, physically and mentally be a new person, if you allow yourself to be inspired and you use that inspiration as fuel to spur you forward.  I guess for a long time I felt uninspired, I was too old, I was too stressed, too busy, time was running out, I was going nowhere fast.  Now that I am in the midst of changing my life I realize that while the days are indeed long and the years short, it will race by no matter what, so you may as well be doing what you love and making yourself a priority because time waits for no one.

Over the last few days I have been reflecting on the changes I have made over the last 4 months and what does in fact inspire me because my Mother asked me a simple yet loaded question the other night.  She has been one of my greatest cheerleaders in this whole process, every pound I lose she notices, every blog post I write she comments, every mile I walk in preparation for my Avon walk she applauds, she truly is in her seemingly boundless support and pride in me inspiring!  Knowing that my weight has been an issue for me for so many years she asked me, “What is different this time?  Why do yo think you are able to be so successful now?”  I answered that it was due in large part to Terr-bear, chase a toddler around all day and you will find if you aren’t in shape, then you best get into shape fast.  Yet spending time with such a young, lovable and new little person seems to also bring everything into sharp focus.  Potential is everywhere, everything is new, possibilities are endless and joy is pure and simple.  The most mundane and pedestrian of tasks have the potential to be joyful and captivating.  It is impossible to be around a child and not recognize how beautiful life can be.  Additionally, nothing illustrates the swift passage of time like a toddler, over the course of a mere month they will go from crawling to walking, get teeth where before there were only gums, go from grunting to talking, seemingly grow inches before your eyes.  You have a daily reminder of how quickly life moves.  You have to seize the day.  Before I would agonize over the fact that time was running out, my youth was slipping away, and it would have the reverse effect on me, it would paralyze me, fear would keep me in this viscous cycle.  Now seeing Terr-Bear grow right before my eyes reminded what a beautiful gift life is and how I had an obligation to live the best life I could.  

So, while at times the idea of being positive and finding inspiration every day makes the cynic in me cringe, I am finding I am actively looking for it and in fact need it to keep me focused.  Negative thoughts creep in, losing direction is easy.  The road is long and it is littered with self sabotage, I need inspiration to keep going.  Being able to log on to the computer and see my friend Lynn has emailed me a link to an author she thinks would resonate with me, seeing my cousin’s link to Ben’s story, my besty Missy congratulating me for walking 3 miles the other day, a grade school friend emailing me to tell me she enjoys the blog, or seeing the generosity of friends and family who have donated to my Avon walk, they light a fire under me, they remind me that I’m not alone, and life can be rewarding.  We want people to succeed, we want to succeed ourselves, so when we see someone else making big changes, we are reminded of our own limitless potential.  Everyone is looking for inspiration and they are willing to support it, though words, through actions, even through donations. Thank you all for inspiring me, hopefully you found Ben's story as inspiring as I did, and I hope you have endless sources of inspiration in your lives!

Are We There Yet?

The last few weeks I have had this low level feeling of anxiety, this nagging feeling in the back of my mind.  Yet, when I actually stop and try to pinpoint what is making me restless I'm not able to exactly figure it out.  It’s like I’m walking down the street and I feel like someone is following me, I feel their eyes on me, I hear their footsteps, and yet when I turn around no one is there.  Yet, every day for the last three weeks, there it is, this feeling of unease.  When I was on vacation I assumed it was my lack of routine, that I missed having my days ordered around Terr-bear and our structured schedules.  Then I assumed it was the guilt about not writing my blog nipping at my heels.  However,  I’m back from vacation for over a week now and have once again resumed my blogging duties and still, there it is, like a low persistent humming.  I don’t know where it’s coming from, I can’t quite figure out what it is, but it is driving me nuts.  

So today while I was strolling with Terr-bear I forced myself to figure out what this unease is and what was causing it.  I realized it is impatience.  It's these hushed yet persistent thoughts in the back of my mind telling me things aren’t happening fast enough...I haven’t made real significant changes in my life...no matter how much work I put into myself, I can’t control the future...what’s different this time?  You’ll just slip back into old habits again...you still have so much work ahead of you, you still have far to go.  Ugh! Stinkin’ thinkin'!  

How, I asked myself,  after 10 some-odd years of inertia are things not happening fast enough?!  How, after spending so much time with my head buried in the sand, am I now getting impatient, anxious for the new, the next, the greatest?  And exactly what is the new and the next?  I don’t really know.  And perhaps that is what is most frightening to me.  I mean, I know what I would LIKE the next to be.  I want to have lost all of the weight I need to lose, I want to be fit and active, I want to have all the money I need for the Avon walk raised.  And I want...well this is the difficult one to verbalize, I want the husband, the kids, the dogs, and the home.  I want to entertain my family in my home at Christmas, I want to decorate a nursery, I want to train our two rambunctious but lovable labs, I want the controlled chaos, I want to be settled.  Or at least feel settled.  And right now I am the epitome of unsettled, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  I am literally unsettled, I have no home, no “real”  job, no concrete answers, no guarantees.  I have only my ambitions, my goals, my dreams.  The whole of it is completely unsettling.   

 So why the anxiety and disquiet now?  I’ve been at it for four months, and they have been some of the most rewarding and inspiring months I've had in a long time.  I’ve been unhappy, if not unsettled,  for years, why this low grade unease now?  Maybe, just maybe turning 35 in 5 days is contributing to the unease.  Perhaps while I have vowed to eliminate regret and to only look ahead, not back, maybe looking ahead is scary as well.  I guess I want assurances, hard and fast truths and all I have are goals and dreams.  I want a guarantee that if I do A, B, and C I will absolutely get to X, Y, and Z.

Most birthdays I’ve had over the last 12 years I have always silently wished to myself that it was either my 20th, 21st or 22nd birthday.  I would wish that I could somehow go back, get a do-over, wake up younger and yet wiser.  Well the good news is that I was thinking about my birthday this weekend and I realized for the first time in along time I do not wish to go back,  I am excited for the future and looking forward to what life has in store for me.  Then of course the doubts started to creep in.  I went down the rabbit hole in my mind and without steadfast guarantees in place there left room for doubt and uncertainty...I turned 20 15 years ago.  It doesn’t seem that long ago in some ways.  I remember that year so vividly.  Sometimes I don’t feel like it’s been 15 years, I don’t feel like I’ve grown 15 years worth.  Then I thought, how old will I be 15 years from now? Oh.  My. God.  FIFTY!  In 15 years I will be FIFTY!  20 to 35 is the same distance as 35 to 50.  It was this realization that made me want to have all the results, all the glory, all the pieces of the puzzle in place NOW.  I felt like time was running out, I wasted my twenties, I needed to get a jump on the rest of my life.  Now, I know what a therapist, priest, higher power, guidance counselor, shaman, (whatever!) would tell me, “So you’re telling me you’ve put in about four solid months of work and you now expect results?  You are so not in it for the long haul.”  The rest of their sage advice would be drowned out by their uproarious laughter at my clueless naivete.  

I am in it for the long haul!  I have no choice but to be in it for the long haul.  What are my options, wake up at 50 scratching my head and wondering where the hell the last 15 years went?  The prospect of that is beyond disillusioning to me.  So I have to keep reminding myself that “the days are long but the years are short.”  Stop trying to rush this.  Stop trying to fast forward to the part where all the goals you’ve set for yourself have been achieved.  Stop trying to predict the future or control the outcome.  I can control how I treat my body, how I take care of myself, how I prepare for the future, how I create the sort of person I want to be, the type of life I want to live, the rest I have to leave in the hands of God.  Instead of worrying about things that are beyond my control I should enjoy my days with Terr-bear, relish my long walks while I prepare for the Avon walk, savor the freedom of being childless for the moment and having the luxury of being able to focus so much of my time and attention on improving myself physically and mentally.  And besides, once I achieve all the goals I've set for myself, I will just have to set new, bigger, and more outrageous goals.  So I really just need to be cognizant of enjoying the journey.  Because once I have lost the weight, have raised the money and walked the 39 miles, am no longer spending my days with my sweet Terr-bear and have kids of my own who are crying, while the dogs are behaving rambunctiously, the house is a mess, and I am trying to prepare Christmas dinner for 30 guests, I will think back to this time wistfully and say to myself, “Damn, that went by fast.”

A Cold Hard Look

Since it has been over 3 months since I embarked on this blog and my journey of transition I figured  I would do a sort of self assessment, evaluate where I am in terms of achieving my year long goals. Time to take a cold hard look on how I am doing.  Yikes!

LOSE 65 LBS

For the first time in a long time I have been totally focused on what I am putting in my body and getting healthy.  It is no coincidence that losing weight is number one on my list, it has been my primary focus every day for the last three months.  My weight and the issues that accompany it has been a major obstacle for me for a large part of my life.  Overcoming this major hurdle, I feel, is key to facing head on all of the other challenges and goals on both my year list and life list.  If you aren’t healthy how in the world can you ever realistically run a 5K?  Or raise $2000 and walk 39 miles for the fight against Breast Cancer?  And truly, I need to look good if I ever expect to woo Bono away from his wife, right?!  I kid, I kid, but seriously, thanks to the support of my parents and my amazing family and friends I have been able to stay positive and energized about losing weight.  3 months in and I am down over 30 lbs, so for this goal I am totally on track to succeed! 

30 MINUTES OF WALKING 5 DAYS A WEEK

Since I started taking care of Terr-bear we have, weather permitting, always aimed to walk for a minimum of 30 minutes a day.  We have since upped our walks to an hour and weekends I am walking in Waveny park, my new favorite spot in New Canaan to train for my Avon Walk.  As a result walking is officially my favorite way to clear my mind and get my butt moving. 

LEARN YOGA

I had been doing 9 simple yoga poses daily either while Terrance crawled around me or while he was napping, however, on vacation, not so much.  Apparently vacation is my kryptonite.  I restarted my poses on Tuesday.  Writing all this down and making myself accountable is helping me to see a pattern, I clearly am the sort of person who thrives when I have a schedule to adhere to.

QUIT COKE (Diet coke, I am beyond addicted) 

I have to be completely honest, I may be more addicted now to the bubbly stuff than I was before.  This goal I have put on the back burner, I fully intend to quit the sweet nectar of the gods by May and well within my one year mark.  However, for the meantime it is one of my few “treats”.  My sister saw me guzzling a nice cold can of the poison a few weeks ago and exclaimed, “Woah!  You are supposed to be quitting!”  To which I replied in my best exorcist voice, “LAY OFF ME I’M STARVING!!!”  Which isn’t entirely true, I’m not hungry at all, but after eliminating most carbs and sugar based products, I need my D.C!  No bread has passed my lips, no ice cream has grazed my tongue, no chocolate has melted in my mouth in over 3 months, so I am allowing myself this one indulgence, for now.  

DRINK 8 GLASSES OF WATER DAILY

Done!  I actually am averaging a minimum of 90 ounces of water a day.  I know studies have emerged saying we may not need the 8 glasses of water a day previously prescribed.  I disagree, as someone who has worked in the beauty industry for over 11 years, I can honestly say water is one of the best and cheapest beauty products out there.  Drink up to half your weight in ounces a day and watch your skin clear up, appear more hydrated, supple, and radiant.  Just don’t drink it all at once, spread it out over an entire day and prepare yourself for frequent bathroom breaks.  It’s worth it.  Yay water! 

START AND MAINTAIN A BLOG (YAY!)

Started, check, maintained, mehhhh.  Back on track though!  And as previously discussed, I had my vacation, now I am back on a schedule and need to blog.  It makes me happy, it gets me writing and keeps me accountable. 

BECOME MORE TECH SAVVY

Ugh.  Technology!  The bane of my existence!  I switched up the layout of the blog last night, it was so frustrating!  I know there is more I can do, I know there are things I should be able to figure out that I can’t. This is an ongoing challenge for me.  

NURTURE MY RELATIONSHIPS

I think (and hope) I have been making a more concerted effort to be there for the people I love and care about.  I am working really hard at being better at maintaining contact through email and phone with my peeps, but this is something I have to almost remind myself daily to do.  “Email them now!  Not later.”  “Call now, don’t get distracted!”  I hate the phone and apparently have the attention span of a gnat, the combination of the two has made for long periods of silence in the past.  I am in the process of rectifying that.  I am also making sure the people in my life know how much I love and appreciate them.  In fact if you are reading this, I love and appreciate you!  Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and for all of the comments and words of encouragement I have received, thank you!!

STAND UP FOR MYSELF

This seems to be easier for me as of late.  It is amazing how making positive changes in your life and knowing you have the support of the people you love and respect makes you feel a little invincible.  I feel stronger and worthy and therefore I don’t feel compelled to let people get away with bad or abusive behavior. 

BECOME FINANCIALLY RESPONSIBLE

Sigh.  This is slowly falling into place.   Right now I am focused on setting aside money for when unexpected expenses pop up.  I am proud of the fact that I don’t frivolously spend my money, when I get an email about a sale or major discount at one of my favorite stores, I don’t even open it.  I haven’t shopped for myself in months.  Every purchase is recorded.  However, this goal is still a work in progress for me.

RUN A 5K

You have to walk before you run, right?  I am prepping for my Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, after completing that my focus will turn to getting my body conditioned to run and eventually (before the end of May 2011!) participate in a 5K.

GO TO ITALY

The planning has commenced!  All that remains is picking up extra hours selling makeup to the pretty ladies to save up the funds, after setting aside money for unexpected expenses and having a little cushion in savings.  The air miles are set aside, now the fun part begins, planning and daydreaming of all the places to see!  Spring of 2011 Ciao Italia!!

APPLY TO GRAD SCHOOLS

I haven’t begun to crack this case.  I am totally overwhelmed by the process and keep putting it off. People apply to grad schools all the time, people coordinate and get loans, write essays, get their letters of recommendation, they do it all and make it happen.  My sister Sheila did it, my friend Bunny just did it, I can do it but I need to put my fear and anxiety aside.

FIGURE OUT WHAT I'M PASSIONATE ABOUT AND HOW TO MAKE MONEY WHILE DOING IT. 

I’m still figuring this out. I am passionate about Terr-bear!  I love writing, even if it is a major source of anxiety for me.  “Does this sound idiotic?”  “Is my vocabulary frighteningly limited?”  “Does this sound like a baboon wrote it?”  “Does anyone really care to read what I think?!”  Despite all those nasty little thoughts, I love writing and I adore all the funny, kind, and supportive feedback I’ve gotten.  What I need to figure out is which of these favorite activities will eventually pave the way for me to have a career I love. 

RAISE $1800 AND WALK 39 MILES FOR THE AVON WALK FOR BREAST CANCER

This goal has elicited such a conflicting combination of emotions from me and like my goal of losing weight, it is something that is in the forefront of my mind almost every minute of the day.  I am excited at the challenge of walking farther than I have ever attempted to and for such an amazing cause.  I am nervous and yet intrigued about camping overnight.  I’m looking forward to meeting and connecting with all my fellow walkers, and I am elated to be sharing in this experience with my best friend and sister Robin.  I’m touched and grateful for all the generous donations and messages of support I have received from family and friends, and I am so humbled by their generosity. Yet I am totally freaked out that I won’t raise the funds needed.  In order to be able to actually walk you must have raised a minimum of $1800, I am about halfway there with 5 weeks to go.  My sister is about a quarter of the way there.  My daily mantra has become “You will raise the money, YOU WILL RAISE THE MONEY!!”  To achieve this goal I actually need the help and support of anyone reading this.  Every dollar counts, no donation is “small”, please if you can, consider donating to my walk!  Thank you so much to all of you who have donated, I can’t begin to express my gratitude to you!  

So while I work on achieving goals 1-15 and continue prepping for my two days and 39 miles of walking, would you please click on the link below and donate!  Thank you!

If you would like to donate please visit my donation page here.  And because we are both walking and soliciting support from some of the same circle of family and friends, if you would like to split your donation between my sister and myself please visit my sister Robin's page here.

Bad Blogger!

I have been a bad blogger, I let Terr-bears new found ability to walk (and thus fall and tumble into seemingly everything) distract me from blogging.  I think I may have foolishly assumed the older he got the easier and more low key our days would be.  Are all the Mom’s reading this laughing yet?  For those of you who don’t spend your days with a toddler, it only gets more hectic and there is no “spare” time.  And naps are made for regrouping, going to the bathroom, eating, chugging coffee, not blogging so much.   I kept telling myself I would blog while I was on vacation, my sister had two weeks off which meant I too had 2 weeks off.  So while I chased after my little bear I assuaged my guilt over not blogging by telling myself I would be a blogging machine once I was off for two weeks.  

And then vacation came and I....went to New Jersey to visit with my bestie, then worked for a few days selling makeup to the pretty ladies, then up to my sisters beach house for a week, then back for a few more days of putting makeup on pretty ladies, and well, no blogging.  No blogging despite the fact that when I would be hovering over my laptop doing important stuff like checking facebook my Mother would cheerfully chirp, “Oh!  Are you writing your blog?”.  Or that while I was on facebook trying to silence my inner voice telling me what a disgrace I was for not blogging, my sweet sister had posted on my wall, “I miss the Butterfly and the Bear!”  So did I!  I just felt like I couldn’t make myself write anything.  However, I did find I truly missed it and despite my sabbatical from the blog I received some funny and kind comments while I was away which made me feel enthusiastic and brought a smile to my face.  

So, I am recommitting myself to number 6 on the list, “Start and maintain a blog.”  When I was visiting my bestie Missy she said, “You can just post a picture and a few comments, it doesn’t always have to be a beautifully crafted essay.”  I know this but I have trouble writing just a small snippet.  However, after 3 weeks of silence I realize that a simple observation would be better than nothing.  So I am back and recommitted, if you’ll have me!

So back in the saddle!  And since I am taking a cold hard look at myself and my obvious tendency towards procrastination, ( this has always been an issue for me, in college I would start 15 page papers at 11:00pm the night before they were due, in theater I would frantically try to memorize my lines at dinner before heading over to practice, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?  Right?!) I am going to devote tomorrows blog to assessing my progress thus far in achieving my goals on my year long list.  Yikes.  Don’t get me wrong, the goals are on my mind daily, some are more in the forefront than others, but I know them all and I am actively working towards achieving them all.  However, as the last month has reminded me, time waits for no man (or woman) and the clock is ticking, the months are passing.  Am I were I want to be?  Where I need to be to achieve these goals in the time frame I set for myself?  So tomorrow’s blog will be all about accountability and assessing where I am and what I am doing to make my dreams a reality (GULP!).  Wish me luck!  

Put 'Em Up!

 When I was younger my Mother bought me and my sisters beach towels, each one had a different cartoon character on it so there would be no arguments over which towel belonged to who, we would know our towel by our character.  My towel was Bugs Bunny, my sister Robin’s towel was Yosemite Sam.  My older sisters and I thought this was hilariously appropriate considering the fact that Robin had red hair and a “mean” temper, similar to Yosemite Sam himself!  The fact is she didn’t really have a temper, however, tell a ten year old redheaded girl she resembles a small, angry, mustachioed man firing his pistols in the air and you will see someone blow a gasket.  I mean really, what little girl doesn’t want to look like that?!  

The fact is I am the one who feels like Yosemite Sam today.  I feel as if I am walking around half cocked with my pistols in the air ready to fire.  Forget a case of the “mean reds”, I have a case of the violent reds.  That man at the grocery store who parked in the space clearly marked “reserved for people with small children”, well as he nonchalantly and cavalierly strolled into the store I slashed his tires.  All of them.  The lady in the frozen food section squawking loudly on her phone?  I ripped it from her hands, threw it to the floor and even though it was smashed to pieces, I ground the heel of my shoe into it for good measure before stomping away.  Then the teenage boy who strolled past me and my Terr-bear in his stroller, carelessly swinging his lacrosse stick perilously close to us...well I tore it from his hands and cracked it in half over my knee.  Then for good measure I threw the two splintered halves out into oncoming traffic.  

Ok, I didn’t actually do any of the above.   But I did imagine indulging in these aggressive acts, vividly.  Acting out on these wonderfully wicked fantasies would be insane under any circumstances and particularly disturbing considering I have a 13 month old in tow.  As I sit here writing about how truly insane I feel, I hear my Mother’s voice in my head admonishing me to keep the blog positive.  Some days it just isn’t there.  There are days when I feel much more Yosemite Sam than Pollyanna.  What is amazing to me is I can be in a completely foul mood but one smile from Terr-bear can lift my spirits.  Luckily he is literally the apple of my eye and even though every stranger I encounter seems to be eliciting my ire, he is like a salve for my soul.  

Despite the fact that I have valium in the form of a 13 month old boy to calm and soothe me, I was trying to figure out why I am feeling so ferocious today.  I settled on two reasons, the first being the simple fact that it is the first day of my monthly gift and as cliched as it sounds, it does sometimes make me more on edge.  The second reason is not so easy to pin down.  I am still getting used to feeling emotions that previously I would have pushed down or soothed with food.  Before if I felt angry or anxious, I would tranquillize myself with a “treat”.  I would literally numb myself with either something sugary or something doughy.  Now, that is not an option.  Exercising, doing some yoga poses, writing, venting, these are my options now.  However, none seem to feel as immediately gratifying as eating ice cream or a slice of pizza, at least at first.  We all know this cycle, many people struggle with food being a crutch, at first it tastes great, you feel better, then you feel awful.  Either you feel too full or just polluted.  The last three months that I have been trying to make lifestyle changes (Ugh I sound so Oprah-y here) I have had to come to terms with my relationship to food and the way my moods are affected by food.  I have to actually allow myself to feel and experience what is bothering me and then work through it, not numb it down with food.  I guess I figured that since I had admitted I used food as a crutch I had won the battle.  In fact I have previously posted about how throughout my life I have medicated myself with food.  However, I am clearly still a work in progress, I suppose it will always be an issue for me, not something I can easily fix and forget.  

So, since it is 95 degrees and humid out, I simply didn’t feel like going for a long walk or doing some yoga poses right now.   And I’m afraid if I were to go all renegade on a bunch of rude and oblivious strangers I may end up in the clink, (and while Terr-bear looks good in stripes, I simply do not) instead I sat down and wrote this.  And I feel better!  The guns are back in their holsters, Yosemite Sam has left the building.  

Hurray For Hollywood!

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, growing up I was somewhat of a nerd.  I was chubby, wore my older sisters hand me downs and was shy and skittish.  So, you could say I wasn’t the coolest kid around.  Despite the fact that I knew I wasn’t cool, and the fact that all the other kids at school reminded me on a daily basis how very uncool I was, I still firmly believed that I was destined for greatness.  I knew, just KNEW, that one day someone would discover me and see past the mousey hair, the too tight and worn thin hand-me-down corduroy overalls, the last years Buster Browns and proclaim, “Now this kid has got MOXIE!”  and thus I would be discovered.  

Whenever we had a school talent show I was there, enlisting the help of my friend Stephanie we would lip sync to Madonna and I would spend weeks perfecting my moves and planning my outfit.  Because I wasn’t allowed to dress remotely fashionably, let alone like a child prostitute, the fact that I had an excuse to dress up in lace leggings, studded belts and wear makeup made the whole Madonna thing even better.  I HAD to dress that way in order to get into character!  And for the whole day of course, not just for the show!  Surprisingly my Mother actually let me do this on several occasions.  And was it any surprise I dressed as Madonna for 2 Halloweens in a row?  I fantasized about my Mother taking me on “go-see’s”, a term I heard Jacob use, a boy in my class who did some children’s modeling and whose father was a photographer.  I day dreamed while the teacher prattled on at the front of class of being the star of a sitcom, of belting tunes out on Broadway to enraptured audiences, or a talent scout hearing me audition for the school play and proclaiming, “Who is she?!  She has the voice of an angel!”  In the fourth grade I asked for a Casio keyboard for Christmas so I could hone my skills, which unfortunately never progressed further than me making ear piercing songs based largely around incorporating the key that sounded like a dog barking.  Genius.  I actually “wrote” a song for the end of the school year, some atonal drivel about summer coming and leaving school behind, when I stumbled through the painful piece for my sister Robin, she having full knowledge of my social status at school replied firmly but kindly,  “Don’t play that at school.  That was really awful.”

 So you can imagine how elated I felt when in fifth grade Jacob announced to the class that his Father was coming to school to shoot a cover for Spotlight magazine, and we were all going to be on it!  “THE” Spotlight Magazine!  The very one in doctors offices everywhere, pored over by millions!  Ok, maybe not millions, but to me back then it was the equivalent of me landing a Vanity Fair cover today.   It was to be called “Johnny Applesauce” with Jacob as Johnny and the rest of us were going to be the other kids in the background.  In the picture Jacob/Johnny has spilled and slipped on his applesauce in the cafeteria and we other kids are all around him pointing and laughing.  Easy enough, right?  Now, I knew this was my big break, I HAD to make the most of the situation.  So while I was usually the type of kid that followed direction and listened to adults, this day I decided I had to take my fate into my own hands.  So when Jacob’s dad told us all to look at Johnny, point and laugh, when the shutter of the camera went off I stared directly into it and flashed my biggest, cheesiest smile.  After a few pictures his Dad stopped and said, “Sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at Jacob.” Ok, I got it!  Whoops, sorry.  So once again the camera starts clicking and I turn to the side and flash my big dumb grin right into the camera.  At this point he gets ticked off, so he looks at my teacher like, “DO SOMETHING” So Mr. McCabe bellows, “Mandy!  Look at Jacob! POINT!  And LAUGH!”  Easy man, I got it, OK!  So we resume taking the picture and what do you think my 10 year old self did?  Well, naturally I looked directly at the camera of course and gave it all I had.  At this point my teacher and Jacob’s dad are ready to blow a gasket.  Looking back I am amazed that I persisted with my little plan, clearly I had lofty aspirations and I fancied this as my one way ticket to hollywood.  Eventually they barked me into submission and I looked down at Jacob and laughed and pointed, it was nearly impossible for me to resist the urge to turn my face towards the camera, but out of fear of the wrath of my teacher I finally did.  After all he was in charge of casting for the school play, didn’t want to piss him off too much.  

Eventually the magazine came out and suffice it to say, I never did get that big break.  I actually tried to google that Spotlight for Kids magazine recently, I’d love to see it, alas, I had no luck finding it. When I was retelling this story to my sister a few days ago I was both amazed at the audacity of my 10 year old self and also kind of proud of her.  Despite the fact that I was painfully shy, had few friends and was bullied, I always had some level of confidence in myself.  Every year I went out for every talent show, I sang the loudest in chorus, I tried out for all the school plays.  I had faith in myself and even though I sometimes felt like a loser, I liked myself.  I DID have moxie!  And while I always say I wasn’t a very funny child, looking back, clearly I did have a pretty twisted sense of humor.  A few months back I was singing show tunes to Terr-Bear and Robin chuckled and said to me, “Mandy, you missed your calling, you would be excellent on one of those children shows.”  And I thought, dang it!  Why wasn’t that one of my responses to the Myers-Briggs questionnaire?!  However, for now I am content just performing for an audience of one little bear and proud of the fact that under all the stress, anxiety, fear, and doubt, I always really did like myself and knew my own self worth.  

A Man Without A Country

Yesterday my seven year old niece said to me, “Mandy, I like your blog but you need to write more about Terr-bear.  He is REALLY interesting.”  To which I replied, “You don’t find me interesting?”  After thinking about it for a minute she replied, “Uhm, yes, but he is cuter.”  I can’t argue with that, the little bear is indeed cuter.  And is at that stage in his life where everything is new, amazing and exciting.  He is learning to communicate and when you understand what his little grunt paired with his finger point means he kicks his legs and giggles in excitement, like, “You know what I want! YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT!  Yay!” When you ask him what a lion says he lets loose a big, “ROOAAARRRR!”  He has an amazing sense of humor, a ready smile and a big belly laugh.  He is a complete joy and a blessing.  I literally have the best job in the world, as my niece is fond of saying.  

 It is such an amazing job and responsibility that when I am having an off day I feel like a total failure.  I think to myself, "You are molding a little person!  You are in charge of his safety and well being!  Pull it together woman!"   Yesterday was one of those days where I felt like I was not on the top of my game.  Terr-bear and I drove up to my parents for a visit with them, my sister Claire and my niece as well as my aunt and uncle.  I figured we’d visit, take a dip in the pool, have some summer time fun.   We drive up to Connecticut and hit no traffic for the first time in 2 months, smooth sailing, this day was going our way!  We got to the house and I took the bear out of his car seat and decided to just carry him and and then head back out for all of our many bags that carry all of the baby accouterments.  After depositing Terr-bear into my Mothers arms I head back out to the car and realize the car keys are in my bag...INSIDE THE CAR!!!  And being a good German car it has of course locked and armed itself in the time I was in the house.  So, my purse, his diaper bag, his food bag, toys, bathing suit, EVERYTHING, is locked in the car.  

Excellent, I have a hot, tired and hungry baby and have no supplies.  We call AAA and the guy they sent was useless, after messing around for maybe five minutes he turns to me and says, “You don’t have a spare key?  Like a valet key or somethin’?”  Oh!  You mean THIS key?  Would that help?  Silly me, let me just unlock the car!  NO!  I don’t have a “spare” key, I wouldn’t have called you If I had a spare key.  Whatever.  He left and mumbled something about us never having to worry about our car being stolen.  Thanks for NOTHING.  

My parents during this fiasco were amazing, my Mother had some food and diapers stashed away for her grandson so we weren’t completely destitute.  My Father was going through the garage looking for tools to jimmy the door open.  My sister arrived and was immediately solicitous and offered to run to the store to get him more food, a change of clothes, whatever we needed.  As I’m feeding Terr-bear I hear my Mother on the phone, “Hello, this is Eileen McCorry, my daughter is here visiting and she came with the baby and locked the keys in the car and AAA came but couldn’t open it and well, all of the babies bags and such are still in the car....oh, no the baby is not in the car thank God!  But perhaps you could help us?  Well I live in Wilton, but quiet close to New Canaan, to tell you the truth sometimes I feel like a man without a country!  Yes, I am in Wilton.  Oh!  You could!  Well wonderful!  Thank you so much!”  I’m listening to her thinking, is she talking to the Police?  No.  Is she?  Well they either will think she is insane or be totally charmed by her.  Well check one off for charmed because she hung up and said, “That was the police, they are going to come and unlock the car!”  Woo-hooooo!  Nice one!  I was thrilled!  And couldn’t believe she did that and they agreed to come and unlock the car!  Terr-bear had pureed peas all over his face and when Nana told us the good news he began clapping and chanting “Nana! Nana!” Seriously, this kid is beyond.

So up pulls the police car and a handsome young officer gets out, so of course my sister Claire practically shoves me out the front door to greet him.  Excellent.  I am sweaty, frazzled, and wearing a pool cover-up.  Not my most glamorous moment.  He is really patient and sweet and helpful and he is armed with he same equipment the AAA guy had but the officer seems far more competent and helpful.  He attempts to unlock the door, pull the handle from the inside, pop the back door, he keeps trying everything in the scorching heat and this damn car won’t open!  After a while it is looking like he won’t get it open, I am losing hope and mentally kicking myself in the head, “Stupid, stupid, STUPID!  How did you lock the keys in the car!”  So my Father says, “May I try?”  And my Father, A.K.A Pop, A.K.A MacGyver gets it to open!  I have never been so excited to hear the sound of a car alarm in my life.  

So we get all of Terr-bears things, I feed him, change him and we take a dip in the pool.  The poor bear is exhausted, all the excitement and tension has worn him out.  So we say our goodbyes and by the time the car rolls out of the driveway he is sound asleep.  As I drive home I reflect on how lucky we are to have such a loving and caring family and that they all made a miserable situation better with their help and patience.  Last night when my sister got home from work I apologized for bothering her at work and interrupting her meeting with my calls about the keys being locked in the car and she replied, “You are doing an amazing job with him, don’t apologize.  Things like that happen, he wasn’t in the car when you locked it, he was fine.  That is all that matters.  I don’t care if you destroy the car, as long as he is ok and you are ok.”  So I have stopped mentally berating myself for locking the keys in the car and said a prayer of thanks that he was in fact not in the car when it locked and reminded myself how blessed and lucky I am to not only have the best job in the world but a family that loves and supports me. 

Come On In! The Water's Fine!

 I spent a large part of my childhood and young adulthood feeling timid, shy, and scared.  As a child I would lay awake at night running through various possible catastrophic scenarios.  If there was a fire how would I get out?  How would my sisters and parents get out?  What about an earthquake?  What if a ghost materialized in my room, what would I do?  If a madman crawled through my window would I scream?  Or just stare dumbfounded?  My teachers often complained to my parents that I seemed tired at school, that I lacked focus.  Well, duh, I was mulling over the problems of the world each night.   My sister found these small little hand crafted mexican worry people.  They came in a little satchel and at night you took them out, told them your worries and placed them back in the satchel under your pillow.  I loved them at first.  I was so happy to unload all of my fear, anxiety, doubt and dread on them.  Those first few nights I whispered my fears to them and placed them under my pillow and slept soundly knowing they were working on it so I didn’t have to.  Then I began to worry about the worry people.  Did they understand what I was saying?  Was I being clear and cohesive and detailed enough?  Did I have to tell them in order of importance or did they know what issues I was most concerned about?  Did they pray for your worries?  Or did I still need to say my prayers? After a few short nights the worry people only added to my uneasiness.  

I was scared of strangers, I would become flustered when my Mother would make me run into the Chinese laundry to pick up her dry cleaning because I didn’t understand the woman and I thought she was yelling at me.  I wasn’t good at standing up for myself, I often would allow other children to mock me and would sit by and pretend not to hear.  Teachers would often tell my parents I lacked confidence, that I relied too heavily on my sister Robin, that I wan’t independent enough, that I was shy to the point of muteness.  In fifth grade I actually believed at one point I was being followed by a ghost.  First it began at night, in my bed, when I was unable to sleep and was running through my various calamitous scenarios, then it seeped into the day as well, when I was riding my bike home from school, at school, this feeling of panic would sweep over me and I would be sure I was being followed.  Now, I was already a total nerd, had precious few friends and was a target for bullies, so the whole being followed by a ghost thing I’m sure only made me act like a bigger misfit. 

I realise now as an adult looking back that I was most likely suffering from anxiety, but as a kid I felt like everything frightened me, other children, strangers, teachers, the unknown, the dark, change, the local news.  I got to a point where I was sick of being scared.  I was tired of being timid.  As I wrote in an earlier post, I made a conscious descion in my late teens and twenties to overcome my timidness and self consciousness, I made a point to be more out spoken, to stand up for myself and for what I believe in.  I pretended to be the outgoing, funny, friendly girl until I actually felt I was able to become her.  However, as an adult I still struggle with my fears and overcoming them.  Who doesn’t?  It is amazing though how a seemingly small occurrence can remind you of your fears and the feeling of paralysis that accompanies them.  

This past weekend I was up at my sister’s beach house with her, her husband, her stepson, Terr-bear, my younger sister Jamie and her boyfriend.  We had a wonderful, fun, laid back weekend.  And best of all I finally was able to swim in the sound for the first time this summer.  Usually I am the first one in the water at the beginning of the season and the last one out at the end of the season.  I love the salt water and am an avid believer that it is good for the skin, hair, and soul.  On Saturday there were a few jellyfish sightings, no big deal, I’d seen them before and still swam regardless.  Jamie’s boyfriend asked me about it and I made a point of saying that they are always around, but you can see them and they never stopped me from enjoying the water.  Later in the day I was pulling Jamie on the float when I felt stinging on the back of my legs.  I freaked, of course, and began frantically pulling her and the float to the shore.  By the time I reached the sand my chest had also begun to sting.  I went back to the house and took off my suit, I had red marks across my chest and on my calves and I found two teeny, tiny jelly’s in my suit.  I must have walked through a little school of them, hence all the stinging in different places.  For a few minutes it started to feel really uncomfortable, then per my brother in laws instruction I doused the marks in vinegar and took some advil.  I was beyond lucky, both helped immensely and by the evening I felt fine.  So, I wasn’t stung by a man o' war or some other crazy huge jelly, I have seen people in excruciating pain from being stung, I simply had some uncomfortable stinging.  Nevertheless the next day at the beach I had this Gollum like internal monologue going on in my head, “Crap, what if there are more jelly’s in the water. Ugh now the ocean is ruined for me!  I can only swim in pools now.  But I LOVE the salt water.  Ugh damn jelly’s!  I can’t go back in.  You HAVE to go back in!  Yes!  It wasn’t bad yesterday but what if I get stung by a big one today?”  I was starting to get really ticked off at those bastard jellyfish when I had a flashback of me as a teenager at the beach in the summer, sweating and feeling uncomfortable in my own skin because I was wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and shorts instead of a bathing suit because I felt too pale, fat, and ugly and was scared people would judge me.  That’s when I snapped myself back into reality. “Mandy, get over it.  Go in the water, do not sit on the sidelines.  You spent way too long being scared on the sidelines.”  Now, some of you may be snickering and thinking, “Grow a set woman, it was just some small jellyfish!”  However, from a young age I learned to avoid anything that made me uncomfortable or made me feel bad.  15 years ago I wouldn’t have gone back into the water.  I would’ve sulked on the beach.  Well, I went back in.  Twice!  Albeit briefly both times, I didn’t do my usual floating and lolling, but I did go in completely, cooled of and felt the lovely briney feel of the salt water on my body.  A small victory, but a personal one none the less.  Life is too short.  We all know this, we all say it.  I need to start living it.  Here’s to not being scared and to jumping in and enjoying the water!