My little fashionistas

I am a mom who firmly believes in the phrase, "choose your battles."

There is a lot of power in that phrase. Choosing your battles gives you a certain amount of freedom. Once you decide which battles you're going to fight, you can relax a bit. You no longer have to worry about certain things.

Choosing your battles is also a source of empowerment for your children. They suddenly have a safe place to assert their individualism and independence. It can be a win-win for all involved.

One battle I have chosen not to fight is the clothing battle. Well, at least so far. At this stage, it's an easy one to let go, because I still control the clothing purchases. I don't have to worry about midriff-baring tops or other inappropriate-for-their-age items because I won't buy them.

But until the day they buy their own clothing, unless an outfit is grossly inappropriate for the weather or the occasion, I don't fight it. Peanut has been picking out her own school clothes every day since she was about 3. Same with Loaf. Of course, this means, once in a while they walk out of the house looking like this:



But really? What's the harm? And you have to admit, this photo is going to look great in her rehearsal-dinner slide show someday. ::Insert evil laugh.::

Allowing them to dress themselves also frees me from the task of having to pick out their outfits each day. After breakfast, I send them off to their rooms with an order to get dressed and I have to say, they generally do a pretty good job.

This morning's outfits were especially impressive. They were cute, sure, but what I found so cool is how each is developing her own style. Peanut is more . . . proper. At 7, she is already a lady. If she were alive in the mid-1960s, I can see her paling around with Jackie Kennedy wearing white gloves and a pillbox hat. If her style continues, she'll be wearing a vintage Chanel suit to her high school graduation.

On the other hand, Loaf is my little free spirt. She's a bit more rambunctious and bohemian. In the '60s, she'd contrast her sister's classic style with a peasant dress and love beads.

I love the way they express themselves so clearly and, so far, with no regard to pressure from their peers. They don't care that most of the girls in their class go to school in jeans and t-shirts. This is who they are, and they're proud of that. I hope the conformity battle is one they continue to fight.

What I did on my summer vacation

I just had an AWESOME week off. I needed this week. My one and only goal was to spend as much quality time with the girls as possible. All I can say is mission accomplished!

We started the week with Peanut's SEVENTH birthday. Seven. Whoa. I just can't believe it. She is growing up so fast. Even though she has a summer birthday - perfect for an outdoor pool or swimming party - Peanut wanted . . . wait for it . . . an ice skating party. Fortunately, the local ice rink is open all year round and guess what? Ice skating parties are DIRT CHEAP in the summer.

So ice skating it was - she and 15 of her closest friends. They had a great time and despite several of the girls being first-time skaters, they all gave it a try and by the end of the session, a goodly number were moving around the rink on their own. Peanut was in her glory, which made it even better.

Mid-week, we headed (as the locals say) "down the shore." On the way, Loaf had to pee (revealing this news less than 60 seconds after passing one of the only rest areas on the Garden State Parkway). I feel it's not officially a vacation until someone has to pee on the side of the road, so over we pulled and dropped trough right there on the grass along the express lanes of the GSP. Fist pump!

Once at the beach, we had an absolutely amazing time.

We dug in the sand, we splashed in the waves, we chased seagulls, ate ice cream and strolled the boardwalk. It really doesn't get any better as far as I'm concerned and there is nothing - NOTHING - as sweet as the sound of your own children squealing and laughing as they frolic in the waves. I wish I could have two straight weeks of it. Just fantastic!



She was completely fearless. She would have dove in and started bobbing beyond the breakers had I let her.



It's not a beach day without ice cream!



My beach babies

This was definitely my favorite part of the week. I wrapped those girls around me like a giant beach towel and soaked up every giggle. I doted on them - ice cream before dinner? Sure! I ran with them in the waves and laid on a beach blanket with their salty heads against me, not even minding the sand they trekked with them. This was my summer redemption - my chance to make up for all the moments I've missed over the last few weeks when I've been locked away at the office. I loved it.

On Friday, we took an entirely different trip and spent the day in New York, picnicking in Central Park and visiting the Museum of Natural History where, on our third trip, we FINALLY got to see the famous blue whale suspended from the ceiling (the previous two trips, the room was closed). The girls love the park and could spend all day climbing all over the giant rocks in the park.

We spent the weekend close to home, but stayed busy riding bikes and going to the movies to see Despicable Me, which gets six thumbs (Peanut's, Loaf's and mine) up. And we filled in the rest of our time reading stories, playing Uno, swimming at friend's pond, catching butterflies and just being silly and relaxed.

So not the most exciting vacation in the history of the world, but it was EXACTLY what the doctor ordered. I'm already experiencing serious PVD (post-vacation depression). ::sigh

Back to reality . . .

In the meadow we will build a snow princess

. . . because with two little girls, that's the way we roll.



Yes, she does have a name. She is Princess Frostqueen, if you must know. Because while cute, we are not the most creative thinkers on the block.

The snow in this part of NJ wasn't that bad. When it was all said and done sometime on Friday, we probably had about ten inches.

Honestly, while a pain in the arse, it was soooo pretty:

View of the house from the backyard



The pond from a distance





Shrubbery at the edge of the woods







Making a snow angel and looking up at the sky



Pretty, right? But I have to say, I'm really glad that tomorrow is March 1. I'm ready for spring. No more feeling like a popsicle for me! Brrrr!

Wordless Wednesday: 'Nuff said

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Peek . . .

. . . a Boo!



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Presenting: Girl with curls and a crown

We went to a local children's museum yesterday and the girls got to sculpt faces with clay. Loaf refused to let me photograph hers, ripping off the clay parts before I could snap a photo, but Peanut was quite proud of her work:



I asked her what it's named and she said, "Girl with curls and a crown." Good name, don't you think?

Wordless Wednesday: Triathlon - the next generation

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What I learned in my first triathlon

Today I finished my first triathlon. It was not easy. At times, it was downright difficult, but I did it. Scratch that one off the Bucket List. Here’s the short version of what happened:

- I had a lot of trouble on the swim and actually swam way off course three times, but finished it (and NOT LAST!)

- I was plagued with stomach cramps for half the bike and half the run, but pushed through it and finished the run really strong and felt fantastic about it.

Want to hear all the gory details or see some pictures? Just keep reading:

Pre-race
I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning and couldn’t get to sleep. I could actually feel the nerves and adrenaline buzzing through my body. I couldn’t stop thinking about the day ahead – what would it be like? Would I get hurt? How cold WOULD that water feel? (For the record, 62-degrees feels pretty cold at first, but you get used to it quickly.) Most of all, would I finish?

Around 6 a.m., my alarm went off and I went to the kitchen. I had carefully planned my breakfast: oatmeal, a bit of yogurt and lots of water. But I could barely finish the oatmeal. My stomach was in knots and I had no appetite. I did my best and got most of it down, but I couldn’t even fathom the idea of the yogurt so I skipped it.

I dressed, got the girls fed and dressed and then we all (my mom too) piled in the car and drove off. The ride was 40 minutes and my stomach was flopping with anxiety the whole time.

We arrived, used the port-a-johns and found the transition area.



I got body marked (Coolest.Thing. Ever. This made me feel totally badass.) and I set up my area. It was teeny. My stuff was squished in right against the women on either side of me.

Waiting to get body marked.


They put your age on the back of your leg. For the race, your age is how old you'll be at the end of the year. So? Today, I unofficially turned 40.


Marked and ready to go


Around this time, I must have started feeling better, because I got hungry. I ate a Power Bar and had some more water then pulled on my wetsuit and headed down to the beach for the pre-race meeting.

At this point, we watched the first two waves for my race take off. It was so cool. Some of those men were so fast – they were out of the water before they even it got wet it seemed.

My mother-in-law arrived at this point and before I knew it, it was time for my wave to start. Hugs and kisses to all, and I walked down to get in line.

Look! It's Batgirl!


Hugs all around


Swim

The half-mile swim took place in a lake. It was a beach start. I was in the third and final wave, which included women and first-timers.

Waiting to start


A year ago, when I started this adventure, swimming was the part of the tri I feared the most. I could only dog paddle. But I took a stroke clinic, practiced like crazy, and have come to the point where I feel pretty confident and can easily swim a mile in the pool.

Did you get that? Because there is a very key, three-word phrase there: In. The. Pool.

Prior to today, I had never done an open water swim. And despite cautionary advice from two experienced triathletes that open water swimming was very different, I had no real idea what I was in for.

I will get back to that, but first let me describe the course. As I said, it was a half-mile. You swam straight out to one big floating cone, made a left, swam to the next big floating cone, made another left, then swam back to the beach. Think of it like three sides to a rectangle.

Standing on the beach waiting for the air horn, it looked far, but not that far. I kept trying to calculate how many lengths of pool each leg would be and decided it was probably something in the neighborhood of 14 or 15 for each of the long sides and maybe 8-11 for the short side. Piece of cake, I rationalized.

So the air horn blasted and the water became a churning mass of humans. Legs and arms flying everywhere. I waded out to about my waist and then dove in.

And she's off!


And guess what?

Open water swimming is on a WHOLE OTHER PLANE than pool swimming.

I couldn’t see anything but murky brown water in my field of vision. I couldn’t see the buoys or the big floating cones or even the other people around me. I got kicked in the arm by a foot I could not see at all.

I could feel the terror welling up inside me. I was taking a breath every second stroke instead of the every third or even fourth I do in the pool and it still wasn’t enough. I flipped over and back stroked, breathing furiously.

Do you see that head on the left sticking up? That head is mine. Does this look like good swim form? Because IT IS NOT!


I dog-paddled. I sidestroked. I tried to breaststroke, but it was like I forgot – completely – how to do it.

I thought I was not going to finish.

I thought I was going to have to be pulled out the water within the first five minutes.

I thought about all the hard work and training that went into this day.

Then, I thought about all the people I’d have to explain this failure to: my husband and the two amazing women who traveled extensive distances to cheer me on. My daughters. Other relatives who were pulling for me from afar. All the people who emailed me well wishes and wrote on my Facebook page over the last few days. The mothers and teachers at the girls’ school. My coworkers.

And my brain said: Unacceptable. You will finish this swim if you dog paddle the whole way.

So I kept going. But I was so focused on making forward motion, I forgot one very important thing: Forward motion is only good when you are going in the right direction.

At some point, after swimming a mix of strokes for a while, I looked up and could not see the big red cone anywhere. I looked around and there it was – way, way off to my left. I had been swimming at an angle away from the cone.

I will not even tell you the long litany of curse words that ran through my head at this point, but I turned and swam like mad for the cone and somehow I made it and rounded it.

Except? I did the same thing again – not quite as badly, but still – AGAIN - on the short side.

And, just because the third time’s a charm, I did it AGAIN on the return to the beach. Finally, I remembered how to breast stroke and I came straight up out of the water and bee-lined for the beach, never letting it leave my sight.

Obviously, I need to work on sighting and open water swimming.

But somehow I made it out of the water - and there were still at least a half dozen swimmers in the water. If I had managed to stay on the course, I probably would have come in more in the middle of the pack.

But I finished it and that’s what counts. I was never – NEVER – so happy to plant my feet on solid ground.

So happy to be done!


Swim time: 25:43. I probably could have shaved 4-5 minutes off that if I'd stayed on the course and done the crawl the whole way. At least I have a goal for next time.

T-1

I ran up the beach to the transition area pulling off my swim cap and goggles and unzipping my wetsuit on the way. My stomach was cramping a bit, which I blamed on nerves or maybe bad lake water.

I gulped some sports drink, washed and dried my feet, pulled on my socks and shoes, fastened my helmet, grabbed the bike and went. I also took a shot of GU, which made my already upset stomach clinch. I seriously thought I was going to puke, but didn’t. At the end of the transition area, I hopped on and pedaled off.

Bike

Here I go - off on the bike


The bike portion was a 19.5-mile loop of rolling countryside. The first 10 miles went fine. I was making decent time and even passed a few people, which is always a good confidence builder (in fairness, I was the passee much more often than the passer, but even 3-4 times was nice).

Sometime after mile 10, my stomach decided to stage a revolt. I started feeling really crampy and nauseous. I thought for sure I was going to have to stop to throw up. But it never got to that point, so I just kept pedaling, though admittedly the second half took longer than the first.

Then I saw the park entrance ahead, pedaled in, dismounted and got ready for the run.

Returning from the bike leg


Bike time: 1:40. Two words: Speed Drills

T-2
As soon as I hopped off the bike, my stomach seized. I felt awful. I racked the bike and sipped some water. At that point, I wasn’t sure what was the greater evil:
Option 1: Drink nothing and risk getting dehydrated or
Option 2: Drink something and risk making the stomach cramps worse.

Feeling really bad at this point.


I went with Option 3: Sip slowly and hope to find a middle ground.

After a moment, I slipped on my visor and turned to run off. Only which direction do I go? Fortunately, a whole lot of people yelled, “Left! Left!” So I turned and ran back toward the beach.

Run

I can typically run a 5K (3.1 miles) in about 33-35 minutes. I am no speed demon for sure. I don’t really like running and have bad knees, so I tend to be conservative.

Today, if I had knee pain, I didn’t even notice it because I was so focused on the stomach cramps, which were worsening. The first 2 miles of the run were HELL. I honestly thought I was going to either throw up violently or (worse) have diarrhea in my pants (I know, too much information, but one thing I learned: tri's aren't pretty).

Fortunately, I didn’t do either. At mile 2 there was a port-a-john.

I have never been so happy to see a port-a-john in all my life. Unfortunately, there were three runners already in line. But I felt my options were either wait or risk a seriously embarrassing incident, so I waited. I waited for close to five minutes.

When it was finally my turn, that port-a-john and I spent some quality time together. In fact, I’d like to write that port-a-john a thank you letter, because afterwards I felt MUCH BETTER. I was actually able to run at decent clip. When I saw the park entrance, I was elated.

When I saw the turn to the finish line, I literally shouted out, “THANK GOD!”

And when I saw the actual finish line looming ahead, I gave it everything I had. I sprinted the final 2/10ths of a mile.

The announcer calling out the name and hometown of each finisher (which was an AWESOME touch, by the way) even said, “Look at the pace on her!”

Giving it everything I have


God, that felt great. After the less than auspicious swim, bike and 2/3 of the run, I finally felt something resembling pride.

I came across the finish line with my arms in the air and a huge smile on my face and was instantly hugged and handed flowers by my two beautiful daughters, amazing husband (who has been so incredibly and fabulously supportive these last few months) and two gorgeous and inspiring women: my mom and mother-in-law.

At the finish. SO. FREAKING. HAPPY.










Run time: 40:48. OK. This is a totally sucky time, BUT, if I hadn't lost that five minutes waiting in line for the bathroom, I would not have been too far off my usual time. That makes me feel better about it.

My time was not good AT ALL. But I have to remember that I had one goal for this race: FINISH. And I did. And that alone is an accomplishment.

I also learned a lot, and have a new set of goals to work on for the next time (yes, there will be a next time!) and above all, I actually think I had fun. Go figure?