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We finished. I’m not dead, but might be a wee bit injured. It’s an azz kicker, that’s for sure.

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That’s what I have.  However, I know deep down that’s just posh talk for being scared utterly crapless about the mud run this weekend.  In 3 days I’m going to embark on the 4.5 mile obstacle course.  I’m not ready.  I know I’m not ready.  I have  a great cheering fan base who all tell me, “you’ll do great!”  In reality, I  won’t.  How do I know?  Because I got my arse handed to me on a platter and lapped by the girl who got lost in the woods for Girl Scout 5k we did.  That’s how I know.  Not much has changed.  I’m drinking tons of water trying to keep hydrated because I quickly learned that dehydration sucks hugely.   I know it’s about having fun and getting muddy.  I know it’s raising money for a terrific cause.  I know I’m doing it and there are others who aren’t even attempting it.  I hurt my shoulder about a month ago at the gym and it’s feeling better, but it’s still not as good as I’ve wanted it to be.  I’m scared.  Loqi says not to be.  Will says not to be.  But I am.  There’s a monkey bars type obstacle.  Hell, I couldn’t do monkey bars when I was in elementary school and I certainly can’t do them now.

There are 3,600 four-person teams.  That’s 14,400 people.  There simply has to be someone who is in worse condition than me.  I hate it, but I’ve lost the drive that had me working so hard for it.  I want to do this.  I really, really do, but I think I have mega cold feet and have a huge fear of letting my teammates down.  My parents are even driving down for it, which is huge and makes me even more nervous.  My fears are rational.  I know a lot of people get race day jitters.  But I’m scared.

If you think about it, on Saturday, September 25 at 9:21:20, we will start and I ask you send me some good ju-ju.  I just want to finish.  Alive.  And not broken.  And not last.  And most of all, I don’t want my teammates to regret being on my team.

You can read a little about it here.

Thanks.

Today was Olivia’s first day of kindergarten.  I had my big, nasty, “cleansing” cry last night and I only welled up a couple  of times this morning.   Being a parent brings with it so many feelings of inadequacy.  Am I doing the right thing?  Am I making the right decisions?  All Olivia knows is in the past 3 months I have made more changes to her daily schedule than I have in the past four years.

This was an email I typed to Mar last night:

I’m a blubbering mess.  It’s not like she’s never gone anywhere before.  She’s been in school since forever.  She did 2K, 3K, and 4k.  Now she’s a kindergartner and I’m heart broken.  The little teeny tiny baby who screamed her head off when I held her for the first time will start school tomorrow.  I have made her lunch and tucked her lunchbox note in it.  I’ve tried to get her ready, but I don’t think I’ve done enough.  Is she in the “good” class? What did they use to decide what class she belonged in?   If she was at her other school I know what we were up against.  I can’t make any more treats.  Everything has to be store  bought.  I joined the PTA.  I am going to chair the canned food drive.  Where has the time gone and why haven’t I done more?  Is it because I’m a bad parent or is it because I didn’t want to face the fact that my baby is going to school.  She has a back pack, will buy her lunch and carry her tray to the table and have quiet time instead of nap.  When Will told her we going out to eat tomorrow night so we could talk about her first day, she asked why.  We told her it was because tomorrow is a big day for her; she’s an official big girl now. she said, “That’s so sweet of you.  Thank you, but we don’t have to.”  Then I told her it was okay, she could pay.  She told me she would take “8 change and some dollars” and she would take care of it.  I hope her new teacher appreciates her like everyone else has.  I’m afraid she’s getting ready to get lost in a sea of numbers and not be appreciated for the Fab she is.  Oh, Mar….am I going to make it?

And then mom talked me off the ledge.  I was okay after that except for the puffy eyes, nonstop running nose and a headache that would have made a nun cuss.

This little girl:

is this little girl:

Just little more grown up.   And I love her so very, very much.

“I saw a cute boy at the pool today.  He was wearing shorts, a hat, and a whistle necklace.  He didn’t have no shirt on.  Oh, Mommy.  He was so cute.  He has dark curly hair and skin just.like.mine.”  And I was too awe struck by this conversation to correct her grammar.

Gah.  The “b” word.  The word every parent dreads to hear.  Boy.  B.O.Y.  Honestly, I never really thought I’d be hearing it at the tender age of 5-1/2.  You all may remember the super tough time we had transitioning to the Y from the private school she has been at since the tender age of 15 months old.   Well, at the Y they spent hours a day in the pool.  A couple of hours in the morning, come in for lunch and rest time and then head back out for their afternoon swim followed by swimming lessons.  Well, the boy with the whistle necklace was a lifeguard, just in case you haven’t figured that one out yet.   For blogging sakes, we’ll just call him the boy who stole my girl’s attention and for a blinking moment she thought someone in the world was cooler than her mommy Buoy.  ‘Cause buoys float and, well, lifeguards work hard to make sure people don’t sink.

So, Olivia has noticed Buoy.  A very tan young man with the most gorgeous curls.  And I’ll admit, my daughter has good taste in her first crush.  Each day she would give me another piece of information on him.  What his name was, where he went to high school, and how old.  He is 21, as per “the girl who went to high school with him.  They graduated together, so she knows this stuff, ya’ know.  Because when you graduate with someone you know this stuff about people.  Do you think I can wear two pigtails to the Y tomorrow.  You know, like Abby on NCIS.”   I think my exact response was something along the lines of, “whoa, sister.  Back it up just a bit.”

I wasn’t quite prepared for it.  Didn’t say too much about it at first, except to share the news with a few folks.  I mainly limited it to those who share my DNA.  Okay, maybe a few more.  Since that didn’t help, I threw it out as my FB status.  Now, let me say, this was huge in O’s world.  Massive, if you will.  She took this crush very, very seriously and I never mocked her over it.  I may have shared the story, but I never once mocked her first crush.  She would say his name so dreamily.  We watched The Pacifier one weekend and she told me, “He [Vin Diesel] is cute, but he’s not nearly as cute as Buoy.”  Oy vey.

So it begins…..

It’s What Day?!?

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