About Me

I Used to Do That

March 2, 2016 by Kathryn

I wasn’t always this perfect. And I won’t always be as imperfect as I am now.

A while ago I said something epically insensitive to a friend of mine who struggles with infertility. She didn’t say anything about it at the time but in a quiet moment later that day it occurred to me how hurtful my comment may have been. In this particular instance I felt strongly that bringing it up to apologize would only cause her more pain so I could relieve myself of guilt.

I felt terrible every time I saw her after my open-mouthed foot insertion. The guilt was eating away at me. I thought, I am so insensitive. I can’t believe I said that to her. I always speak before I think.

And then I stopped.

No, I thought, I used to do that. As of this moment, I don’t do that anymore.

This was a profound moment for me and I’ve used that phrase over and over since.

I used to do that.

As a mature woman who allows myself to evolve and change, when I look back at my life, I find there are things that I just don’t do anymore. There are little bad habits, sins or unkindnesses that come to mind and I think, I used to do that. But I don’t anymore.

I try not to beat myself up over these Used-To-Dos. If I don’t do them anymore, then thinking about them should make me happy. Oh, my, how I’ve grown!

But how long do you have to wait before you go from, “Dang! Why do I always do that?” to “I used to do that”? A week? A month? A decade?

Nope.

I propose that if you want to conquer a bad habit, you turn it into a Used-To-Do immediately. Whenever you do something you wish you hadn’t, rather than beat yourself up again, say, “Wow. I used to do that.”

Fix it if it needs fixing. And then move on.

If only wishing made it so, you might think. Saying, “I used to do that,” doesn’t automatically make it so I won’t do it again. Nope. I believe it can. Over time. At least far better than shaming and guilting yourself.

Let’s say you want to get up on time in the morning but you always find yourself hitting snooze. You wake up far too late, in a grouchy mood, and start the day off frustrated. You spend all day thinking things like, Why do I always do that? I know better than that but I’m so lazy. I’ve got to get up earlier but it’s so hard. If I don’t do better tomorrow, I’ll have another lousy day. I am so bad at mornings.

There are a few things that are messed up about this line of thinking.

1. You are reinforcing the negative behavior – “I always do that.” “I’m so lazy.” “It’s so hard.” “I’m so bad at mornings.” By telling yourself this story over and over again, you are digging it into your neuropathways, reinforcing it with steel beams and covering it over with cement. If you want to keep sucking at mornings, this is the way to accomplish that.

2. You are marinating in shame and guilt – Who was ever motivated to peaceful positive change by excessive shame and guilt?

No one.

Shame and guilt are key components of addiction and other out-of-control negative behaviors. A small amount of shame can help us fit into society by providing that little voice that tells us not go topless to the mall and a small amount of guilt can help us desire to make things right when we hurt another person. However, excessive shame and guilt can leave us feeling hopeless and grind us to a halt on our journey to healing and growth.

3. You are not being productive – There are no real solutions in this type of thinking. You are tearing down, rather than building up, criticizing rather than motivating.

Now think about this. Your alarm goes off one morning and, as usual, you hit snooze several times. You wake up late and frustrated and you think, I used to hit snooze a million times in the morning. That did not help my day go smoothly. Good thing I don’t do that anymore.

Throughout the day, as you feel unprepared or frazzled you think, This is frustrating. I used to feel like this a lot when I used to hit snooze in the morning. I’m glad I don’t do that anymore.

This does a few things to help your progress.

1. It stops your negativity before it spirals out of control – This is frustrating. But it’s temporary because I don’t do that anymore.

2. It redefines who you are and what you are capable of – I’m a person who makes positive changes. I have a plan to improve and I am improving at this very moment.

3. It reinforces positive behavior – All day long you rehearse the new improved version of yourself. I am a person who gets up early every morning.

You may need to do this again the following morning. And the next. But, if each time you hit snooze you think, I used to do that you will likely find that you hit snooze less and less.

Eventually you will transition to a place where your alarm goes off and, as you reach out your arm to hit snooze, you think, I used to do that, and slowly sit up in bed rather than dozing off again.

You reach the final stage when you don’t reach for the snooze button anymore, when talk of snooze button abuse comes up at a PTA meeting (as it so often does) and you think happily to yourself, I used to do that.

Saying, “Drops of Awesome,” when I do something positive helps me celebrate the good and keep my momentum going. Saying, “I used to do that,” when I do something negative interrupts the destructive behavior and reminds me of who I am and can be.

In the middle of writing this post, I went to the kitchen for a snack and saw the other half of Wanda’s breakfast grapefruit sitting on the counter. I should eat that before it goes bad, I thought. But then I decided there was probably more appetizing fruit in the fridge. I started to walk away and leave the grapefruit on the counter to die but then I thought, I used to waste food, and I ate it.

I used to eat chocolate right before bed. I used to say insensitive things in the name of humor. I used to ignore my kids when they got home if I was in the middle of writing.

What did you used to do today?

Sometimes Good Food Tastes Good

February 22, 2016 by Kathryn

I’ve been dieting and REALLY NOT DIETING and then dieting again for most of my adult life. I fluctuate in size and in most other measures of health and I work hard to shield my kids from my food weirdness. However I’m sure I shield them less than I intend to and it’s not ideal.

I’m a vegan.

Nope. I’m Paleo.

I eat whatever I want, dangit!

Whole 30 for life.

Chocolavores unite!

What my kids see is just food. On the table. Some of it’s good. Some of it’s less so. They know I’m always cooking some weird new thing and they mostly accept it, although sometimes with grumblings and rumblings.

Often, when I’m trying something new, I make two complete meals, one for me that I tell the kids is to help my body be healthier, and one for them to keep them happy.

Currently I’ve stripped it back to a Drops of Awesome approach to diet and nutrition. I try to rack up as many good choices as I can and I don’t stress too much about the junk that slips in now and then. It’s working at the moment, in that I’m not stressed about food and it’s become like a game to see how many vegetables and tablespoons of flax seed I can consume each day.

So you’ll see my plate overflowing with roasted vegetables and chicken and my kids are piling up on white rice and cheese. Everyone’s happy.

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However, I was recently reading Jonathan Bailor’s book, The Calorie Myth, an exploration of hundreds of medical studies about how our bodies actually evolve with diet and exercise. It had a section about helping our kids form good habits with food and I thought, “If I’m trying to eat more vegetables, lean meats, and good fats because that’s the healthiest way to eat, why did I give up the battle of encouraging my kids to do the same?”

They may not be having problems with health or fitness now, but if they keep eating the way they are, they will have problems in their future. It’s a difficult thing to figure out because, if anything, my kids struggle with being underweight, so I feel justified filling them up with empty calories to bulk them up when what I should really be doing is helping them eat more, higher-quality foods.

The problem is, I’m willing to eat healthful food simply because I know it’s good for me. My kids expect things to taste good. So, the past couple of weeks I’ve been working on adapting favorite recipes to make them a few Drops of Awesome better for everyone. I’ve had some hits and some misses, but more hits and it’s encouraging.

Yesterday when the kids got home from school, rather than letting them get their usual bowl of breakfast cereal, I spread lettuce leaves with a Greek yogurt dip they like, filled them with sliced turkey breast and made little roll-ups. They all gave me the stink-eye at first. But every one of them ended up loving the new snack.

Then for dinner I took a family favorite, cheeseburger pie, made it crustless, and changed the topping. Instead of topping it with a bunch of cheddar cheese, I topped it with a little cheddar cheese, some low-fat cottage cheese, an egg and several egg whites, and broccoli florets.

I held my breath. This was a major overhaul. But they all, LOVED it. Even the pickiest, Wanda, asked for seconds. And in the family prayer, Magoo said he was thankful for all the yummy food I’d been making lately.

We’re making progress.

The cherry on the top came at lunch today when I surprised Wanda with leftovers. She hates leftovers on principle. However, today she was ecstatic to eat her “new favorite meal,” the healthier version of cheeseburger pie.

“I like this better than mac and cheese!” she said. High praise, my friends. “What’s the real name of this dinner? I want to know because last summer in swimming lessons my teacher had me yell out my favorite food when I did a cannonball at the end of class and if she has me do that again next summer, I want to yell, ‘THIS THING!’”

THIS THING, indeed. Drops of Awesome.

Seeking Ambassadors of Awesome!

February 18, 2016 by Kathryn

523 Ways to Be Awesome, the second Drops of Awesome book, is set to bounce April 5th from Familius and I would love some help getting the word out.

I would love that help from you.

I would love to appoint you as an Ambassador of Awesome.

Ambassadors of Awesome agree to do their best to do their duty to tell people about all the ways they are currently or can become Awesome.

If you’re an Ambassador of Awesome, you agree to receive email from me and the marketing team at Familius. The emails will contain Awesome Missions that we’d love your help with. Of course, you choose which Missions work best with your schedule and your network.

In exchange for your willingness to help with the launch, you will receive an advanced digital copy of the new book 523 Ways to Be Awesome and access to a private Ambassadors of Awesome Facebook page where we will all share positivity and have a great time together.

There will also be other giveaways and incentives exclusive to the launch team as April 5th gets closer.

If you’re interested in joining our team, please let us harvest your information below. We will never give your info to anyone besides our small team and we’ll try not to overwhelm your inbox with Awesome.

Please sign up below if you’d like to join us.

What Can You Bear to Do Today?

November 21, 2015 by Kathryn

Sometimes I can’t bear to clean the kitchen, but I can bear to fill the sink with water so the dishes will soak. So I do that. And the kitchen is one step closer to being cleaning. I find that breaking down my tasks into lists of tiny steps and choosing which one I can bear to do helps me be productive. This and more revolutionary, life-changing tips are available in my most recent post on HowDoesShe.com.

Can you bear to click this link? [click to read more]

How to Love Moms – A Self-Help Book for Other Six-Year-Olds

November 19, 2015 by Kathryn

Wanda is writing, writing, always writing. Sometimes she’s drawing but mostly writing these days. Where other kids are begging for video games or ice cream, Wanda begs for those things and paper, reams of paper, and fresh writing utensils. This kid can spend hours, actual literal hours sitting hunched over the table writing.

She writes my grocery lists and checks them off as we go.

She sits holed up at the table doing her entire week’s kindergarten homework packet the first day it’s assigned and when that’s done, she asks me if I can think of any more homework she can do. So I have her write letters. When she’s done writing letters, she writes books. Usually self-help books.

I don’t know how long this will last. But I love it. I love it to the point that sometimes it makes me cry. I will shriek with glee when I find one of her treasures lying around, shriek with glee and then drag Dan into the laundry room or back deck so we can giggle and squeal like prepubescent girls over the awesome literary prowess that is Wanda. I think she writes more words per week than I do.

The most recent book she wrote was a follow-up to her first self-help book, How to Treat People Kindly.

This one gets down to the specific, answering the age old question, How To Love Moms.

And she nails it.

[You can love your mom by helping do the dishwasher and maybe loving her and maybe cleaning up and maybe watering the plants. That is how you can be kind to your mom.]

Hard labor. That’s how you love moms. The end.

But she doesn’t just write self-help books.

You remember the sympathy card when I was prepping for the triathlon?

[Mom. I know that you can do the triathlon next year.]

Then there was the time her teacher asked all the kids to write the letters of the alphabet and Wanda had to add that special touch at the end because she wanted to make it clear that she DID know her ADCs. And she wanted people to seng.

Now, since the “criiathulon”, nearly every picture she’s drawn of me involves me running. I am a cute runner. And fierce.

However, Dan, who did not participate in any athletic events this year, had his picture drawn the same day as the one above, only apparently he didn’t run fast enough because he is burning alive with hot fire, which is also consuming his heart.

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At the beginning of the school year, Wanda got into trouble for repeatedly calling out in class. Being the youngest in a family where the other four people think you’re adorable to the point of writing blog posts about your doodles, you get used to not having to wait your turn to speak. If mom says, “Don’t interrupt,” you can always go interrupt your older siblings. It doesn’t work that way in public school. Every kid is the youngest and the cutest and every kid needs to learn to raise her hand and wait.

So after a particularly rough week at the beginning of the year, Wanda asked what she should do for homework and I said, “Write a note to your teacher about how you’ll try to do better tomorrow.” She produced this:

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[Mrs. M. I am so so so so sorry for shouting out in class. Tomorrow I will do better. On the back of the page there will be signs. ]

These are the signs:

[I will not shout in the classroom. Instead I will raise my hand. I will wait my turn. I will be patient. Love one another. Keep my hands to myself. I will listen to the teacher.]

Like Anne of Green Gables before her, she had a blast doing this penance. I like how she threw in some biblical verse for good measure. #loveoneanother #thoushaltnotkill

Speaking of church. These are her favorite songs:

[On a Golden Springtime and A Child of God.] Obviously.

She gets into these ruts. Or, more positively, if she were an artist, we’d call them “installations”. For a while every character she drew was wearing a Mexican wrestling mask.

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Then all of her people were happy shapes.

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Then everything was so so so so so so SO SO SO SO emphatic.

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She told me that the reason she was so much bigger in this picture was because Laylee and I were really really far away. Perspective. Nice. But why do I have crazy twig hands? Is that also because I’m so far away?

This next one reassures me that even though moms aren’t “people,” we are still worthy of love.

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[We love people AND our moms.]

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And I’m the best one she ever had. That’s ever, you guys.

When she gave me this note below, she said it was to show that she loves me whether I’m happy, sad, or mad.

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She always loves me and she always respects my feelings but if I’m sad, she… shoots an arrow through my chest. Or something. I think it’s sweet.

Here’s me running again, with Wanda. And as we run she wonders, “I wonder when I’m going to be 12.” Because Laylee is 12. And 12-year-olds get to do everything. I like that my name here is spelled like a high school cheerleader. “My name is Mommi, with an “i”.”

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The thought bubbles are part of a growing trend where all the people are expressing themselves in thoughts and words.

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The dragon here is expressing fire breath, which makes an “H” sound and the people are mostly screaming things like, “Aaaaaa!” “No no no no,” and “WITCH!” But one guy thinks it’s pretty “Kolle” or “Cool”. He’s the one smiling.

When one guy kicked the dangling smily/frowny/indifferent faced wind chimes, this girl was forced to ask herself, “Why kick?”

Most recently her obsession has been with stars. For two days she got all Beautiful Mind, drawing page after page after page of these:

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But then they got boring so she started to give them faces.

And weapons.

[I’m getting ready to explode. I have two grenades. We’re going to the park to face off.]

While I love this greatly, especially how happy they are about their impending celestial gang fight, my favorite star art is probably this one below. There are several things I appreciate about this piece. First of all, a few of the stars have faces like Bane from The Dark Knight Rises, which she has never seen. Secondly, two are on a plate. Thirdly, the others are surrounding them with swords, grenades, bows, arrows, forks and knives. The stars on the plate are saying, “OW. We’re on a plate. AAAAAA. We’re on a plate, yeah,” and the incoming cannibal stars are saying, “Ooooo. Dang it. I was hungry. I’M HUNGRY.” There is a lot to love here.

To her sister and her aunt she passed this note during church, “Guys. You are cool. So cool that the whole world could explode.” That’s a lot of cool. Like serious sub-zero conditions.

Sometimes she designs video game characters.

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This guy is 100 years old. [Your worst nightmare, the mouth. It does 100 damage. It also does one hundred and twenty damage.] Boom.

And she draws her favorite foods.

She likes to label things.

When she wrote her first long story about a year ago about her plan to sneak out on Christmas and see if Santa blessed her life with gumballs and a really favorite animal, we had no idea what was in store. I apologize to all the “chres” (trees) that give their lives to support her hobby but I just can’t bear to make her stop.

I have hundreds of these and I can’t really express how much I love them. The way you love that curl of baby hair you saved from your kid’s first haircut or the video of her smiling for the first time, or the memory of the time your middle schooler hugged you and said, “I’m so lucky to have you for a mom,” before remembering she’s a middle schooler. That’s how much I love her writing.

Maybe I should show her by emptying the dishwasher. That’s how you love people, right?Or does that only work for moms?

Thrill the World

October 28, 2015 by Kathryn

Maybe it’s because I snuck out of my room to watch the Thriller video when it premiered on TV even though my parents told me I wasn’t allowed to watch it and then I bawled all night because I was so terrified. Michael Jackson with yellow eyes dancing in a horror movie within a horror movie within a horror movie. I mean. Come on. Vomit-inducing fear.

Maybe it’s because someone once told me I looked like Jennifer Garner, who once did the Thriller dance in a movie.

Maybe it’s because all the best flash mobs involve bridesmaids dancing like zombies.

It’s possibly because I love hip hop dancing about as much as I am horrible at it. Which is a lot.

Whatever the reason, it’s long been on my bucket list to learn the choreography to Thriller.

And dance it in a group.

This weekend I did it! Dressed as a zombie princess with my daughter, her friend, and yes, my chiropractor, I danced Thriller with 250 other people at the mall.

Our makeup wasn’t all that epic.

I smiled way too much because I could not help myself.

I was more jolly than creepy.

But I seriously had the time of my life.

Apparently every year, people all over the world gather in the name of charity to Thrill the World. They all learn the dance and then perform it together at the same exact time, setting a world record for something.

So Laylee and I headed to the Senior Center Saturday mornings in September and October and dialed up the YouTube in between times to learn the heck out of this dance. Every time the music starts up and we get ready to dance, I tear up. Because that’s what I do. Dance makes me emotional.

During the first class we both just kept looking at each other like, “What did we get ourselves into?” It was way harder than we thought it would be, especially considering half the people in the class were senior citizens and they were rocking it.

The second class was better. We were almost up to old people hip hop levels and by performance day we nailed it. Mostly. My goal for next year is to make it look a little more like dancing and learn how to move my head from side to side like they do in the music video.

I’ve rarely had more fun with my girl and despite the fact that I don’t actually like pouring fake blood on myself and dressing up as a gory brain-eating zombie, I’m willing to pay that price in order to dance like Michael Jackson for a world record and to help disadvantaged kids learn golf. I am that selfless.

You should join us next year. Or should I say, “Next year join us… or we will nom nom your gray matter!”?

The fun thing is that whether you’re reading this in Seattle or Salt Lake City or Vancouver or Tokyo or London, there’s an event in your area and we can all dance together apart next year!

For the Love

October 21, 2015 by Kathryn

I have the hardest time every year choosing what picture to put on our Christmas cards. From the time school starts pretty much until Christmas vacation we simply do and do and do some more. We don’t really take time to document the doing. So the years when I get around to printing Christmas cards I often struggle. The summer pictures are too summery. The spring pictures are too outdated already. The fall pictures look like a ninja or witch, or a What Does the Fox Say, which aren’t very Christmasy.

So, this year I decided to kill two birds with one stone. For Halloween our entire family is dressing up as characters from White Christmas. Then we take a picture at the Halloween party and BAM! Christmas card pictures! The girls are the Haines Sisters, Dan and Magoo are Bob and Phil, and I’m the nosy housekeeper.

We’ve been buying fabric and feather fans for weeks and now, and the church Halloween party is just a couple of days away. I’ve been getting more organized, thanks to the fabulous Power of Moms, and I’m pretty much on schedule with this project. Today is the day to sew.

But I find that since I know I need to sew today, it’s the last thing I want to do. In fact, I’m Grumble-Sewing. Sew a seam. Growl a little. Pull out some pins. Sigh.

I am sitting at the table surrounded by gorgeous blue clouds of fabric and wonderful sewing machines that I’m blessed enough to own. I’m creating something amazing that I really want to create because I somehow convinced my entire family to dress up as characters from my favorite Christmas movie for Halloween, and I’m whining.

Why?

Have you ever done this? Have you ever found yourself whining internally or externally because you have to do something that you technically really love and that you chose to do but that suddenly when it’s time to do it, it feels like a chore?

Ugh. I have to read my book club book.
Ugh. I have to pick out an outfit for my date night.
Ugh. I have to sew Halloween costumes.
Ugh. I have to make dinner.
Ugh. I have to walk upstairs and sing Wanda a song for bedtime.

I love reading, getting dressed up, sewing, cooking, and spending time with my kids. But there’s something about a deadline or a sense of necessity that squash-slams my attitude.

However, noticing how annoying I was being, I was able to turn my day around by changing a few things:

1. Make a mental list of why you love what you’re doing – Today as I was sewing, I tried to remember why I love this hobby. I made a mental list.
-I get to make something beautiful.
-My kids love it.
-It makes me feel creative.
-I love finding cool new ways to put pieces together.
-It’s one of the few things I do that gets recognition from other people . (It’s like grown-up show and tell.)

2. Watch your wording – Whenever I chatted with someone, I was careful about how I talked about what I was doing. Instead of saying, “I have to sew costumes today,” I said, “I get to sew costumes today.” It helps to think of the task as a privilege, rather than a burden. I should never forget that I chose how I spend my time.

3. Take breaks – So instead of pushing through with my usual sewing sweatshop, a marathon process that makes sewing extremely unfun, I broke it up by doing other tasks like cleaning and grocery shopping. That way sewing was the recreational activity I could return to in little chunks and actually enjoy it.

I find that this process works even for tasks I don’t actually love. If I make a mental list of things I love about mopping (the smell of the soap, the way the floor looks and feels when I’m done, the game I play where I break the floor up into shapes and scrub them one at a time), talk about it like I’m lucky to have a floor to mop, and reward myself with a little break when I’m done the kitchen, mopping is less of a suck.

How do you motivate yourself to do the things you hate or remind yourself that you actually love the things on your schedule?

Red Wagons and Knuckerholes

September 16, 2015 by Kathryn

I’d been planning all my life for the first day of school, or at least all month. I often say, “DOWN WITH PERFECTIONISM!” But then there’s this small part of me that really really wants to just be perfect. Because that would make life easier and then I wouldn’t have to be obsessed with perfection anymore because I would have already achieved it. It’s like when you can’t stop playing Lego Star Wars on the Wii until you beat the game and then you never think about it again. That’s how I see my life being when I achieve perfection, total Zen.

We had planned the heck out of the first day of school, family meetings, calendar items, to-do lists, backpacks packed and clothes laid out two days early.

But when the day actually came, we ended up forgetting things, losing lunch boxes, running over little red wagons with the van, showing up late to kindergarten assessments because we were so busy trying to do all the morning routines perfectly, praying that the kindergarten teachers were not assessing personal hygiene because we forgot to brush our new kindie’s hair.

When the day ended, I popped on Facebook and saw all my friends post pictures of their kids on the first day. And they weren’t just pictures. They were pictures with props.

Framed art that said what grade they were starting.

Actual, flippin’ ART. In frames. That said what grade they were starting.

Why is this a thing? Why?

Anyway. I took a picture of the wagon I ran over. So that’s something. And I learned a new fake swear, thanks to our friends at Dragon Tales. So that’s something else.

When I signed out of the school, Wanda discovered this book in a basket in the office.

She asked me to read it. I really really needed to find out what a knuckerhole was so I sat down and read it to her.

It turns out that a knuckerhole is a magical tube you can jump though that basically takes you to nowheresville where you sit and think about how you should have done a better job cleaning your bedroom until a dragon saves you and takes you to the fireworks show.

I prefer to think of it as an awesome new slang term for pretty much whatever.

Ex. Why did Zack take such a cheap shot and punch Wheezy in the knuckerhole?

Shut your knuckerhole!

Maybe

Why in the knuckerhole did someone put the red wagon behind my car wheel?

Stop being such a knuckerhole and load your lunch dishes in the dishwasher.

So, we decided to send that day down the knuckerhole and started over. And the school year is actually off to a pretty decent start at this point. I still haven’t taken first day of school pictures for all three kids because I’m not done crocheting doilies that say which grades each of them are starting. But I am at peace with that.

Wish Me Peace and Comfort at This Most Difficult Time

August 5, 2015 by Kathryn

Every once in a while, it does a body good to do something scary, something good and productive that scares the Chacos off of you. Two years ago it was a sprint triathlon. This year it’s a 10k.

And I don’t run.

Ever.

Once many years ago my physical therapist told me I had wobbly joints and I should never become a runner. I listened to her because she was singing my song. I can never run? Oh, the tragic humanity of it all. Do I want to get up at 4:00AM and slam my body repeatedly against the cement until I vomit? Of COURSE I do! Who wouldn’t!? Sadly, I can’t. I’ve been medically advised not to.

No. Under the council of my almost physician, I’m afraid I will have to eat cheese and watch Pride and Prejudice instead and think about how hardcore I’d be IF (as Cinderella’s stepmother would say) I were physically able to wear tiny shorts and exert myself to the point of almost-death. But I can’t… so… nom nom nom… Netflix.

I’ve done a few 5ks in my life, always walking them, re: my off-the-cuff diagnosis of wobbilitis. When I competed in a sprint triathlon a couple of years ago I walked the 5k portion. I wanted a big goal, a scary goal, but one with no running involved. I finished. I cried. It was glorious.

Then my body fell into disrepair. I’d met my big fat goal and I didn’t have another one and I just stopped pushing myself.

So, when a friend asked on facebook who wanted to run a 10K with him this September, I said, “Yes,” before I really thought about it. I needed something to push me. This would be the thing. This race has everything – cartoonists, Nutella and cupcakes at the aid stations, couches along the route, and creepy guys in fat suits chasing you to make you run faster. How could I refuse?

I consulted my new PT and she said, “Sure. You can run it if you train properly.”

Well, crap.

So I’ve been training for several months. At first I did this in secret, not wanting to tell my running friends for fear they would brand me as one of them, invite me to sleep in their stinky Ragnar van, or “do a quick 14-miler” on a Saturday morning, only to find out I was simply pretending to run.

I’m still running slower than many people walk. What I’m doing is pretty much what they’d call jogging in the eighties but since it is not the eighties we are all runners. Always. And athletes. Never say “jogging” to me.

But eventually the secret came out and everyone’s been nothing but supportive. Runners are people too, it seems.

And I’m tri-ing again this week as a step on the road to the 10k. ¼ mile swim, 14 mile bike, 5K run.

It’s been a rocky process. I haven’t lost an ounce of weight. I’ve had some training days that have made me happy cry and more days where I’ve sad cried. Mostly I’m just proud I’ve stuck with it this long. I feel stronger and more certain I can do hard things, even if I do them really REALLY slowly.

Last week was one of the Dark Times. We’d been on vacation, a veritable tour of food, and when I got back I’d lost a lot of ground physically. Five-year-old Wanda overheard me asking a friend to pray for me because I was worried about the tri and the 10K of doom.

So she went up to the card drawer and picked out this lovely specimen for me, which I’m 98% sure she had no idea how to read.

Then she wrote this inside.

“Mom. I know that you can do the triathlon next year. Love, Wanda.” The picture is me and my three friends running. I am not tall.

Notice what the original card says.

It truly is a most difficult time. Wish me peace. And comfort. And several months of post-race carb loading.

My Autobiography on a Plate

July 28, 2015 by Kathryn

“What’s that?” Laylee asked with an upturned nose, pointing to Wanda’s uneaten peanut butter sandwich languishing on the table.

“It’s the story of my life,” I replied, “My autobiography on a plate.”

Because I spend my life making food for people, sometimes very specific food like this particular sandwich, food that is asked for, and needed for things like sustaining life and strengthening eyeballs, food that is licked and discarded.

That plate says so much.

Laylee gave me the “Mom You’re Weird” look and moved on with her day.

Later that night I asked her if she liked the lunch I’d packed her for school.

“Oh. Sorry, Mom! I forgot to eat it and bought lunch at the cafeteria.”

Garbage can open thy gaping maw. We have another offering.

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