{the end}

And with that, she gave up all hope for life.

Listography #10 and on…

I am STRESSED RIGHT NOW!! Holy cow. Our empty duplex has been for sale for 4 weeks, and I am freaking out a little. Since I like to make lists to soothe my stress, I thought I’d spend the morning catching up on my listography! I’ve skipped one of the lists in the past couple of months, since I don’t have a son, and then just ended up distracted and not blogging! So here goes:

List #10: In my dream home:

Truth be told, I love our house. I’d love it more with a few upgrades, and maybe some baseboards. But if I was going to go all-out, here’s what I’d be sure to add:

• First and foremost, a housekeeper. Someone to cook and clean, shop for groceries, do my laundry (and actually put it away), tidy up, file my paperwork…and rub my feet. They do that, right?
• A laundry chute. This was THE SELLING FEATURE at The Acreage, and I can’t imagine another house without one. Even if the laundry is on the same floor, I want a magic transportation tube for it.
• Central vac with the baseboard suction hole thingies for sweeping. Magic. Pure magic.
• A garbage disposal. I miss scraping plates into the sink.
• A master ensuite with a big bathtub and walk-in shower, and (more importantly) water that smells really nice.
• A bigger closet. Not a walk-in closet…just a bigger closet in every room with built-in shelves and drawers.
• Floor-to-ceiling windows in my living room. We already kind of have that…but I want MOAR!!!
• A walk-out patio from my master bedroom 🙂
• A new deck, with a hot tub that is sheltered but open. Like a pergola, but no spiders living in the corners.
• A slightly bigger kitchen with a gas range/big hood vent, and room for an island. If we could transpose my mom’s kitchen layout into my house, it would be perfect. I love my current kitchen style though.
• Equal-sized bedrooms for my girls.
• A finished basement that walks out to our fire pit, doesn’t smell like cat pee, and has a guest bedroom suite PLUS an office (rather than crammed into the same room…)
• A broom closet. A cleaning closet. Some kind of storage space on the main floor for the vacuum that isn’t just my hallway.
• A non-cave-like laundry room. Something with sunlight.

List #11: Best Blog Posts I’ve Written

This is really hard. I have to give up a little modesty and admit that some of my posts were pretty decent, whether from my own feelings, conversations generated, or traffic.

• The one about formula for moms. Oops.
• Bikram vs Moksha. Who knew I’d become a Google first-pager?
• Running…naked running…barefoot running!
• What not to do on the internet – LOL!
• Fighting with my birth control
• Finding my groove…and reigniting a dream
• Birthday letters to my girls

Surprisingly? Nothing about coconut oil. Hmm.

List #12: What I love about spring

I love spring. This year, it would appear we are skipping spring. So, this is more or less a list of what I can vaguely remember about this mythical “spring” season:

• Longer days!! Coming out of class at 9pm to daylight! Wheee!!
• Snow melting into puddles, splashing in those puddles
• Walking to the mailbox each day
• The first backyard fire of the year
• The smell of sunshine in my girls’ hair at bedtime
• Walking the chiweenie, without having to carry her because she’s cold
• Planning my garden, and turning up the soil once it’s thawed
• The dance season wrap-up, complete with dance festivals and fun days 🙂
• Opening up the windows, and sleeping with fresh air in the room!
• The first rain showers, and the first thunderstorms of the year!
• That first hint of green washing through the trees
• Pussy willows
• Running outside

Now, with that taken care of, it’s time for me to go and do my duplex-selling dance with C-boo so that we can get rid of all this stress! Wish us luck!!

 

Run

When I run, I am at peace. I am living one breath at a time. I am whole-heartedly aware of every fibre of my being.

It is my communion. It is my solitude. It is everything to me.

When I can’t run, I feel agitated. It makes the winter feel long and bleak. When I am not running, I feel an emptiness. I crave it when I have to step away for a long time.

Running has been my sanity in this crazy world. It has been my serenity. My peace. It is the gentle hand that lifts me up out of the pits of hell; it is the soft voice that tells me I am worthwhile.

Today, my heart is broken. Of all the bad news that flits across the screen each day, this is the first moment that I have ever felt instantly gutted. My soul is crying out for my brothers and sisters whose celebration has been devastated. Tears well up in my eyes uncontrollably every time that I think of our shattered landscape.

Running isn’t political. It isn’t elite; it isn’t polarizing. From the beginning, humans have been born to run. The fact that someone has stolen this innocence has me completely twisted in agony. I want to cry out, to wrap my arms around my running family and weep.

I want to scream and shout, to curse anyone who would steal our peace, our happiness. I want to rail against the darkness, beating my fists against this pain that keeps rising up in my chest.

I want to run until the hurt goes away.

This next step

When I originally started this blog nearly 5 years ago, I called it “This Next Step”. I was a mom to almost-3 month old twins, and MagzD really hadn’t been born yet. I was taking the next steps in adulthood and needed somewhere to record the milestones.

Tomorrow, I am registering those almost-3 month old babies for kindergarten. They are in seventh heaven after driving past their school for 3.5 years. They are so excited that I could barely convince them to go to bed. I have a feeling they may be very disappointed when they realize that they won’t actually be going to school until September…!

I, on the other hand, am a wreck. I’m nearly 32 years old, and all I want to do is ask my mom to come with me.

I’ve been dreaming about kindergarten for years: sipping coffee in the quiet 8am dawn light, strolling peacefully through my clean house, running errands without 5-point harness clips in every parking lot for TWO WHOLE DAYS EVERY WEEK (and every other Friday!!!!). I won’t lie: at times, I’ve been downright giddy about it.

Yet now, I’m laying in bed wondering how this all came to be. I’m blogging on a practically defunct blog to a nearly nonexistent audience because I am so overwhelmed by the process of pushing my babies out into the world.

Onto school buses with other kids.

Into classrooms run by other adults.

Onto playgrounds with other family values and structures and ideas of right and wrong.

I am so scared.

Of course I know they’ll be fine. I’m the mom who sits idly while her kids explore the playground, instead of hovering over them. I let them eat dirt and play by themselves for hours unsupervised.

But I’m also the mom who silently worries when they aren’t getting their back floats in swimming lessons, and cringes when I see them struggle. I leave them to their own devices, but it’s hard. And now, I won’t be able to see if they’re struggling. I may never even know. I won’t see who hurts them or who helps them. I won’t watch them master skills, and I won’t be there to celebrate.

And my house will be so empty. Like an only child going off to school, but twice as quite. No more giggles and stories and glitter and crayons and princess shoes. On those days, my house will be so empty. I see myself sitting at the front window, waiting, watching for that school bus all the long day through.

And when they get off the bus each afternoon this fall, I won’t be there. I’ll be at work, and all of their bubbling excitement and news will fall on someone else’s ears. I will only get to kiss their foreheads while they sleep.

But I will put on a smile tomorrow morning, and I will pretend that walking through the doors of that school is the most exciting thing the three of us have ever done together. We will make cookies in the afternoon to celebrate and I will listen to the two of them chatter excitedly about being big kids.

In my heart, I will cry.