My Real Life

We concluded each night at the beach, after the kids were in bed, by watching the Olympics.

And, as always, the best part of the Olympics were the behind-the-scenes stories about the athletes.

No excuses.  Just hard work.

Champions, all of them.

Because, even if they were dead last in the Olympics and went home empty-handed, they were there because they were the best in their nation.

Can you imagine?

Being the very best at something in your entire nation?

It doesn’t just happen.

It takes ridiculous amounts of hard work, and these people aren’t afraid to put in that work, despite some amazing obstacles.

Left their families.

Came back despite horrific injury.

Practiced 12 hours a day.

Trained while working a full-time job and parenting.

It’s amazing.

While I have to say that Usain Bolt completely rubs me the wrong way with his utter lack of graciousness in victory, the fact that he trains on a dirt track that was hand made,  while many of the people that he beat run on state of the art tracks every single day, impresses me.

So, the lesson that I take away from these athletes is that there is no better day than today, and that there are no reasons that are good enough why I’m not taking better care of myself and exercising every day.

At the beach was easy.

At home will be the challenge.

I can do it.

There are limitations, yes.

I can’t join a gym, because I truly can’t get there.

But, I have a treadmill in the basement and more fitness games for the Wii than I care to count.

I realize I’m not going to have the body of  Anna Chicherova (women’s high jump) or Kellie Wells (women’s hurdles) but I can be better, because I have to be.

Diabetes doesn’t go away, and as I’ve said a million times before, I want to hold the needles and insulin off as long as I can.

And I’ve been slacking.

There are examples right here in my real life, as well.

People to inspire and keep me going.

My friend, Heather, posts inspirational sayings on Facebook, every day, as she heads to the gym.

Yesterdays was “An imperfect workout, done today, is better than a perfect workout, delayed indefinitely.”

Love it.

She’s been working hard, seeing results, and I’m proud of her.

My friend, Tara, participates in all sorts of athletic competitions and rocks them.

She works, she parents two boys, and still takes care of herself and competes.

My own Real Man has been getting up at 5 am, every single morning, and hitting the trail and working out and is looking amazing.

He has to leave a snuggly ole’ me, sleeping away in bed, to go out in the icky, sticky, heat, but he does it.

Every day.

The father of one of my students, this past year, has been battling Leukemia, and just yesterday, completed an Ironman.

Inpsiring?

Absolutely.

So, today’s the day.

No time like the present.

No excuses.

It’s time for a change, because I’m halfway to 41, and I’m not going to spend my 40’s tired, sick, and exhausted.

So, we’re headed home, today.

While it is obvious that I will miss being on vacation the most, there are other, less obvious things that I will miss, as well.

1.  One way major streets.  Call me lazy, but it’s so nice to only have to look one way and know it’s safe to cross your brood.

2.  Mixed recyclable collection.  How much do I love tossing my cardboard, glass, and plastic all in one, enormous bin?  So much.  That’s how much.

3.  Beach house = One Floor = Not spending the entire day chasing Tiny up and down stairs.

4.  Being within walking distance of everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.

5.  Being able to take my morning walks.  Tiny wakes up and he and I can head right out, because my parents are at the house for when the big monkeys wake.  When Real Man is here, he can come with me and THAT is awesome.

6.  The ability to give the kids a little more freedom.  Monkey in the Middle forgot to bring the paddleball set down to the beach, one day, and asked if he could go home and get it by himself.  We let him, and he commented “I feel like such a big, responsible kid!”

7.  Playing paddleball.  Monkey in the Middle believes that paddleball is ONLY to be played on the beach.  So, despite my assurances we could play and have fun in the yard at home, that set is going to be carefully put away until next summer.  As an aside, Monkey in the Middle worked our way up to 96 in our volleys, without stopping, and I was tres proud.  Then Real Man wanted a turn.  They hit 116.  Show-offs.

8.  The beach.  I don’t necessarily LOVE the beach.  I’m not a beach bunny, and would be just as happy camping or taking the kids to the mountains for vacation, but this year, I found myself able to utterly relax on the beach.  The big kids can entertain themselves, and Tiny likes to play right in front of us, or stand in the water.  Because it was a private beach, where my parents rented, there weren’t too many people, and we were able to sit right at the waters edge, right next to the lifeguard stand.  Believe it or not, I was even able to crack open a book on the beach, this year.

The beach also provides some excellent people-watching.  From eavesdropping on the lifeguard banter to just hiding behind my sunglasses and watching all the other families interact, the beach cannot be beat for social observance.

9.  The lack of stuff.  We didn’t bring any “toys” this year, and none were needed.  We brought our board games and cards, and all were well-used.  For entertainment, we played games, went outside and played with rocks, flew a kite, went to the beach, rode scooters, hit the library and read and so on.  There were Wiggles moments, and Monkey Girl spent a few days FaceTiming her cousin, and technology was used but there was good time together without “stuff.”  We could pick up the magazines Tiny insisted on spreading across the floor and the house would basically be put-together.  Reminds me that we could do without 99% of the “stuff” we have at home, and no one would probably blink an eye.

10.  24-7 with Real Man and the Monkeys.  I love this family.  I love them so much, sometimes it makes my heart ache.  Real Man is back to work on Monday and in a few, short weeks, the Monkeys and I are back to school and I am going to miss them all so much.

…or on top of the boardwalk, if you are going with kids, I guess.

We hit the boardwalk last night.

Yes, the Seaside Boardwalk, but there was no sign of Snooki or JWoww or the new crew.

Thank goodness.

We spent the early part of the day at the water park with our cousins.

The kids had a blast.

No pictures, because really…where would you store your camera?

So, you’ll have to trust me.

It was fun.

Then, to the boardwalk.

There were rides.

There was exploring.

There was danger.

Our lives were in our hands at some points.

Baby suffered an ear injury on the bumper cars.

Three hours after the bumper cars, he was also still complaining that his heart hurt, so I’m guessing he also hit his chest.

Then, there was the Log Flume of Death.

I went on with Monkey in the Middle.

When we came down the first hill, we jerked around a bit, but we were smiling and laughing.

When we hit the water after coming down the second, larger hill, my body came off of my seat, and my chest slammed into Monkey in the Middle’s head, crushing his head into the hard padding in front of him.

I thought, for sure, when we both fell back that his nose must have broken, but his head had twisted as my chest hit it, and he was fine.

He was actually laughing, so I laughed, also.

However, it feels like I cracked my sternum, and I’m typing this 6 hours after it happened.

Ouch.

A lot.

There were also frights to be had.

Baby Monkey had been talking about the Haunted House since he went, last year, with his godfather, Uncle Daniel.

This year, I got to go with him.

Here was his face before.

I don’t have an after picture, but trust me when I tell you, it wasn’t that happy.

He’s already said “Um…I don’t think anyone needs to take me on that next year.”

Pizza helped.

And, as always, we have the picture from the boardwalk where we pretend like we’re taking a family photo, but really, we’re capturing some strange boardwalk dweller.

Two years ago, it was the dead psychic.

Last year, it was the woman with the ice pack in her dress that was falling off her body.

This year?

Aw, how cute!

Tiny and Real Man off to the left.

Wait.

No.

What’s that off to the right?

Oh, it’s just a guy, hanging off of the “No Smoking” sign.

Smoking.

And that’s how we do the boardwalk.

1.  My sister-in-law posted a similar photo, on Facebook, of my nephew, last week, so I guess that answers the question of “Where did he get those lashes?”

And it ain’t from me, folks!

2.  Sometimes, at the end of a long, busy toddler day…

The Wiggles are a godsend.

3.  The lifeguard tournament was last night.

Very exciting.

The lifeguards from our beach won, and the monkeys thought that was awesome.

One of the lifeguards from our beach is actually going to nationals, and these competitions are grueling.

Very impressive.

It’s made cooler for the monkeys by the fact that you really get to know these guards because the beach where we stay with my parents is made up of only one street of people, so the four lifeguards are the only lifeguards…no switching from stand to stand.

So, the kids felt cool that they “knew” Joe, Zach, Anthony, and Austin.

Good times.

4.  Real Man and I have been continuing our speed walks every morning.

It’s great and we feel exhausted and sweaty and gross, but so good when they are done.

It’s about 3.6 miles, which isn’t huge, according to the stats on the runs and bike rides my Facebook friends are doing, but it’s good for us.

There are so many people out jogging while we’re out there, and I have to say, I’m so impressed with joggers.

I’ve tried to jog, and I don’t know if I don’t have the stamina or if I just don’t really care to run, but it didn’t work for me.

I’ve thought about the Couch to 5K program, but when I think about it, that’s pretty much as far as it goes.

Because, I really don’t want to run.

I love my walks, but running isn’t for me.

However, I’m impressed as hell with people who do it, and I realize I’d probably be in such better shape if I actually did jog.

But…running.

Ick.

5.  Every beach house I’ve stayed in, as an adult, leaves some movies for their VHS player.

Some have DVD players, but most still have VHS players.

I love seeing the selection they have for their renters to watch.

This house has “Galaxy Quest,” “Flubber,” “Mouse Hunt,” “Crocodile Dundee,” and so many more.

We don’t really watch movies while we’re here, so it doesn’t matter that much to me, but there is something that always makes me smile, first of all, at the VHS tapes, secondly at the choices.

I wonder if it’s a case of “Ooh, I think our guests would love to see “Crocodile Dundee!”

Or, if it’s more along the lines of “Geez, I can’t seem to get anyone to buy these old VHS tapes on eBay.  Let’s just leave them for the renters.”

In any case, there’s a certain comfort in seeing these old movies.

6.  Along the lines of “you can’t make this stuff up,” the other night, I took the monkeys to the park after dinner.

While we were playing, two teenagers and a boy who was about 10 arrived.

They were playing around, being goofy, and then one of the teenagers said to the 10 year old, “Hey, let’s put you in the baby swing!”

Wanting to please the big guys, the 10 year old said, “Sure!”

This boy was a larger boy, and as soon as he was in, they realized they had made a mistake.

They tried to get him out, but they couldn’t, and their efforts were just cementing him in the seat, even further.

The leg holes appeared to be cutting into his legs (not through the skin, but you know what I mean.)

We were on our way out, but all I could think was, if one of my kids was in trouble and there was an adult around who could have helped, but didn’t, I’d be furious.

So, I told the monkeys to stay put and walked over.

I told the one teenager to get down on all fours, like a table, and for swing boy to try to stand on his back, to release his weight from the swing, and maybe we could pull it off.

Kid was so stuck and at such a strange angle, he couldn’t really even stand.

I told the other teenager to go get a parent.

Then, I told swing boy to hold his hands high and try to pull himself up, and we’d try to pull the swing down.

Didn’t work.

The other teenager came back and said that his Dad was in the bathroom and couldn’t come.

Fantastic.

The boys were all nervous, and swing boy was starting to get teary.

When teenage boys get nervous, you know it’s time for action.

So, finally I said, “Okay, I know you don’t know me, so sorry for this,” but I went behind him and grabbed him under the arms and around the chest, told him to pull himself on the chain and pull while I pulled back and told the other kids to pull at the swing.

Like a cork in a bottle, he finally popped out.

They thanked me profusely, I gathered the monkeys and we were on our way.

Good times.

So, as my Facebook friends know, I recently watched Seasons 1 and 2 of Downton Abbey, courtesy of Netflix.

I wasn’t quite sure if I would like it, because I’ll admit to not really watching that much British television.

However, some of these people know me pretty well, so I gave it a try.

Well, I was hooked.

From the first moment, I couldn’t look away.

However, as I made my way through the episodes, one thing struck me.

The utter…boredom that a life of privilege must have brought.

The main family didn’t earn their money.  They inherited it.

So, there were no factories to run, no jobs to attend to.

It was just ordering the servants and making social calls.

This was the way of life for so many of privilege, at the turn of the century.

Wake up, ring a bell for your servant to come get you out of bed and get you dressed.

If you were a woman, they would also do your hair.

Then, downstairs to breakfast, and as soon as you left your room, someone would come in and make your bed and neaten up your room.

After breakfast, you make social calls, or read the mail, or go for a walk or just sit in the parlor.

And so your day continues until the servants get you ready for bed, including brushing your hair.

I just can’t imagine that kind of life.

Don’t get me wrong, the idea of someone cleaning up after me as soon as I leave the room is entirely appealing.

As is the thought of having every meal cooked for me and, especially, someone else doing the laundry.

However, it seems to me to be a life without purpose, and I wonder, is that what privilege brings?

Throughout the show, a few of the characters begin to realize the lack of purpose and change their lives, but there are some (and they aren’t all old fuddy-duddies) who believe that this is the life they were meant to live and are outraged by the thought that there is something more they should be doing.

That by living their life, they are doing something…giving others jobs by allowing them to serve them, etc.

The truth is, although I enjoy all the story lines, the servants lives are the most interesting.  They are the most well-rounded characters, because they are the most well-rounded people.  They have lives of purpose…they have interesting conversations and thoughts and desires and hopes and dreams.  What is there to look forward to if you have everything?

I don’t really have a point here, but it’s just something that I find so interesting to think about.

As far as the show goes, I wait for January with baited breath, for Season 3, and in the meantime, have been devouring other BBC shows on my iPad.  “North and South” (which has a much different meaning in the US than in Great Britain) was a good one, and I’m in the midst of “Daniel Deronda” and plan on watching “Upstairs/Downstairs” next, as I do enjoy seeing the differences between the privileged in the house vs the servants.

BBC.  It’s not just for your Grandma.

This weekend we headed to the beach for a vacation with my parents.

Real Man has to work, so he was only able to spend the weekend, and then headed back after dinner on Sunday.

The monkeys and I are here for the long haul.

Sunday was a good day.

There was an early morning walk.

Scooter rides.

Fun on the beach.

Baby Monkey’s “butt-trail” from the boardwalk to where we were sitting on the beach.

The mass exodus when the rain started.

Solitaire with Grandma.

An impromptu walk with Real Man and our two littlest guys when the rain stopped.

Dinner at the counter because the table is consistently covered by one jigsaw puzzle or another.

The day was capped off by a trip to Dairy Queen, but with Monkey Girl’s first lick of her cone, the ice cream fell to the ground and was covered in gravel.  There were tears and it just wasn’t a Kodak moment.

More tears when we said goodbye to Real Man, then inside to have some quiet time before we went to bed.

A good day and a great start to our vacation.

My kids love stomp rockets.

Like, seriously love them.

In the old house, we had to put the kibosh on them because there was nowhere to stomp where the rockets wouldn’t get caught in the trees.

In the new house, we’ve got the great backyard.

And so, there is much stomp rocket fun to be had.

It’s funny how such a simple toy can be so much fun.

Great reminder of the fact that it doesn’t have to be high tech or gadgety to engage the brain.

We bought these sneakers at the end of June to “get us through the summer.”

We bought them at Walmart, because we knew they were just supposed to last two months, through summer recreation.

Then, in the fall, we’d buy good, solid, sturdy sneakers.

Unfortunately, we still have about a month and a half to go and this is what they look like.

True, they aren’t great quality shoes, but seriously?

Monkey in the Middle grows fast, he plays hard.

There will never be hand-me-down shoes for his brothers.

Here’s our comparison, and I’m between and 8 and an 8.5 in women’s.

No petite feet for me, either.

But, my 8 year old?

Wow.

I was recently challenged, on Facebook, to do 5 crunches while Tiny sat on my chest.

Not one to back down from a challenge, I did it.

And had Monkey Girl record it.

I didn’t do it well.

But, I did it.

So, here it is.

Don’t judge.