Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Do You Take One Space or Two?

I like to fancy myself as hip to the times, even though some people might disagree.  I have a smartphone.  I use Twitter.  Heck, I read Us Weekly, so you know I am in the know when it comes to all the stuff that truly matters.  Or so I thought...

I came across this article and it shook me to the core.  Because it turns out that perhaps some of my habits are a little antiquated, and I was none the wiser.  Basically, this story is about what an old fuddy duddy you are if you put two spaces between sentences instead of one.  Um, what?  Here I've been, happily hitting the space bar two times after every sentence,  when the rest of the modern world was lazily only doing it once and laughing at me for being so out of the loop.  I guess those Us Weeklys aren't as educational as I thought.

And it got me thinking.  Is this the beginning of the end for me?  Does it start with an extra space and end with me, shaking my fist at the youth and cursing their new-fangled technology?  I can't even imagine the stuff Anna is going to have access to as she grows up - the kid can practically beat the hardest levels on Angry Birds, and she's only fifteen months old.

Kids these days (See?  It's already happening!) don't even know how to write the English language.  Cursive handwriting isn't a subject in most schools.  Text messaging has taught a whole generation how to communicate entirely in acronyms.  OMG!  LOL!  U R OOC! Using the correct form of "there", "they're", or "their"?  Forget about it.

So perhaps this does mean that I've officially reached the peak of my coolness.  Because if I was clueless about the new rules regarding spacing, I don't even want to know what other things I'm happily oblivious to.  And you know what?  I tried to get on board with the whole one space thing, I really did.  And I have to admit that it's just not for me.  I'll leave all that crazy stuff to the young'uns.

Monday, March 21, 2011

In Training

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the titles we go by.  Daughter.  Sister.  Wife.  Mother.  Friend.  Some, we're simply born into to, and others we fight for.

Over the weekend, I wondered aloud to Mike if I could consider myself a runner.  You know, the people who can casually drop in a conversation, "Well, I'm a runner...".  The people that, before a few months ago, I would want to sucker punch right in the gut, because, really, who likes to run?  And then I did this crazy thing and signed up for a half marathon.  On Saturday, I ran twelve miles. And it wasn't terrible.  I've even made a few running friends, and we were talking about what an awesome feeling it is week after week to get up at the butt crack of dawn and then set a new personal record or run a little bit longer than you've ever gone in your life. So when Mike looked at me sideways, like, duh, I could kind of believe him, maybe I actually am a runner.

Another title that I often find myself struggling with is probably the most important - mother.  I don't mean that to sound like I'm struggling with the act of mothering Anna.  I love being a mama, more than anything I've ever done.  What I mean is that sometimes what I'm doing and the idea of motherhood I have in my head don't always match up.  Sure, I find cheerios in all my pockets, and I can change a diaper practically with my eyes closed, and I've even done that thing where I lick my thumb and then proceed to wipe something off Anna's face.  But then I spend a little time with my mother-in-law or my own mom, and I'm so in awe of all these amazing mom skills they possess that just seem so natural, and I'll think, "When will those instincts kick in for me?"

I know they have both been mamas much longer than me, but I'm not sure I'll ever get to the point where I walk into a room (ahem, my kitchen) and immediately start cleaning, wiping, or putting away.  In the past month, both my mom and mother-in-law unloaded my dishwasher.  Awesome by itself.  Even awesomer that both times there was a renegade bowl or dish that I had probably run through the cycle approximately twelve times because there was some kind of food stuck to it, and instead of doing the proper thing and washing it by hand, I would just plunk it back down and hope for the best on the next go around.  You can probably guess what those moms did, and that's exactly what I'm talking about, that mom-ness that somehow seems to escape me.

I'm working on it.  There's no training program you can sign up for, although I guess you can argue that the whole process of raising a child is one big, fat training program.  Every goodnight kiss, and sad tear wiped away, and milestone reached is bringing you one step closer to crossing that finish line.

I look forward to the day when I can easily say, "Well, I'm a mother..." and not feel like I'm totally clueless.  And hopefully along the way I'll learn a thing or two about dealing with those pesky dirty dishes.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Back to Life, Back to Reality

It seems as though I've been neglecting this poor little blog, and for all five of you who actually read it, I apologize.  Anna and I had a busy week basking in the Florida sun, and it's taken me longer than I thought it would to get back into the swing of things at home.  Throw in a Master's project and a lost hour from Daylight Savings Time, and blog writing just went right out the window.

Here's a little bit of catch up...

Anna survived her first plane ride.  I admit that I was totally nervous, but she did much better than I expected.  My days of enjoying plane rides while scouring the pages of trashy gossip magazines and Sky Mall catalogs and chomping on airline peanuts might be over, but my child did not scream the entire flight nor did I need to brave the airplane bathroom to change a diaper.  I consider that a big, fat win.

Who, me?  Cause trouble?  Never!  Now, pass me that Sky Mall catalog...


Our week in Florida with Kristin and Drew was awesome.  We ate yummy food, road tripped it down to the Florida Keys, and took Anna to the beach for the first time.  I also managed to squeeze in an eleven mile run and a brunch with some old high school friends I hadn't seen in seven or eight years.  The only thing missing was Mike, who was stuck at home working.  We missed him like crazy, and I think I began to realize just how important to my sanity having him by my side is.  Yes, I was with my parents and sister and brother-in-law, and they were all more than willing to chase Anna around and keep her from chewing on electric cords occupied, but there's no substitute for our number one guy.

Anna and her favorite Auntie

You want me to put my feet in the water?
Oh, hell, to the no!


There were a couple of times during the week that I couldn't help but feel like I was in high school again.  My parents, sister, and I spent so much time down in Florida, being back there brought on a whole flood of memories.  With Mike at home in Michigan, and Drew busy training, we had a few afternoons with the original Schrock clan, plus one cute little addition.  We went on bike rides, and visited a few of our favorite places, we even got Slurpees one afternoon.  It was kind of neat to be a foursome again, and it got me thinking about all the memories Mike and I will be able to make with our own family.

Back home, my pathetic attempt at a tan is already fading, the coconut-y smell of sunscreen has been washed out of all our clothes, and I think I finally got the last of the sand out of the diaper bag.  Reality has been calling, and after a couple of weeks of sending him straight to voicemail, it's time to pick up the phone.  And that's ok.  Because, as it turns out, reality is actually a pretty cool dude.