Anticipation

After we received the announcement that we'd been awarded one of the two team placements for the Mind + Body / Miramont Lifestyle Project Purpose (or P2) - life took on a new form of chaos.

When we had to pick out names for each kiddo, we thought that was tough. Really, we had no idea. Then we only had to choose a name for either a girl or boy, and we had several months to do it.

For P2, we had only three days we had to pick out one name that met all of our criteria - and there were no do-overs like middle names. We decided that our team name had to

• Be true to the character of who we are have been, and want to be.
• Be clever, catchy and descriptive without being embarrassing either personally or professionally.
• Be timeless both in duration and frequency of use.
• Be uniquely common.
• And lastly, it needed to look good in print, on the 'net and in other published formats.

For two and a half days I was driven to come up with a name other than 'Team Olson' and I drove the K nuts asking him if he liked 'this' name or 'that'.

Not only did we have to come up with a team name but we also had to decide what to wear in the team photo, meet with a trainer and find our initial measurements and assessments and also maintain our usually chaotic schedule.

While chatting the night before we were to meet with Alicia, Mind + Body's Editor, I sighed deeply and asked K if our schedule could be any more chaotic.

"Nope. I like that as a name though."

And thusly our team had a name: 'House of Chaos'. It's an organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

In January K started working out with a trainer and going to the gym on a regular basis. Add to that two full time jobs, two active kids, Cub Scouts, taekwondo, ballet, Girl Scouts, volunteering and an active social life balanced with a houseful of activities, chores, and pets - well, there isn't a lot of time in my schedule for things like exercise.

But we are by no means unique. There are, in fact, lots of houses of chaos that in their own way make it through the day.

It's one of the commonalities that many of my friends and I share - that the days are marked not by how bored we were, but instead by how much remains on our ToDo lists even as we are collapsing into bed and feeling the rush of being behind in what needs to be accomplished the next day while the release of sleep hasn't even begun.

After that first flurry of activity the waiting began. Anticipation built. Nervous energies and second-guessing about what we were embarking on began to grow.

Unlike any other opportunity I've undertaken I mentioned this one to few people - I was too scared that it wasn't real, that M+B would chose to go with a different team and I didn't want to experience that disappointment or the need to explain why we weren't participating in P2.

It's taking forever for July 11th, the day the publication is to be released to arrive. As the day draws near - I've come to the realization that this is going to HURT if I don't get out and move before we met with the trainer. After a few panic attacks, I gathered what 'gear' I had and booked it to the gym waving 'Later' to K and kids for what was to be the first step towards a new path.

Oh, Baby.

What am I in for?

All Kinds of Berries

Our little town had some excitement today. A black bear cub was found wandering about in one of the neighborhoods about one of our schools. Charles, already at work, suggested that 'It wasn't too far away - why not go see what all the fuss was about?'

Needing a break away from the summer doldrums, we took his advice and tooled about looking to see if we could find the source of excitement. But, fortunately or not we didn't. After stopping off at a little deli and picking up something for lunch we began the drive home.

In the back seat JB began prattling along about all sorts of topics and settled on when people talk about berries.

"All they talk about are raspberries, cherries, strawberries, and blackberries. They always forget about two important ones; huckleberries and cranberries."

"And dingle-berries, can't forget about those." BW quietly added.

I belly-laughed, grateful that I hadn't begun drinking from my soda, JB regarded the boy with shock her mouth making a perfect 'O', and he continued to look out the window only smiling now; he'd finally gotten the girl to stop chattering for a moment.

Dingle-berries... Indeed.

The Invitation

When the email came through, I had two simultaneously competing thoughts "Oh my Dog. This can't be real - SQWEEE!" and "Holy COW - what the hell have I gotten myself into?"

The first I'd heard of Project Purpose was in an email that came through my email on May 30th. The subject line professed

"Change your lifestyle! Apply today for Project Purpose."

Like most people with an active email address, spam arrives on occasion professing that the life changing solution to all of my problems or what ails me lies within - read all about it!

I very nearly marked the email as spam and went about my day. What stopped me was that the sender was the Fort Collins Coloradoan.  What most saw when they opened the email was this:

What I saw was this:

Going against every learned 'rule' about unsolicited emails that offer what seems too good to be true, I clicked on the link to apply and found the survey intriguing and thought provoking. When asked, Husband said that he thought sounded very interesting and to go for it. So, I started filling out the application.

My responses to the survey questions seemed to flow without hesitation and before I had a second thought, I hit the 'Send' button.  (Stay tuned for another post on those.)

And then I read what I'd written. The truth of it all. That while I'd like to think that I'm in relatively good health, I am not. I haven't been in many years.

I am driven, focused, and strive to always do 'better'. Better than I did last time, better than anyone asked for, better than even I thought possible. My interests are vast, my enthusiasm limitless, and my desire for 'one more minute' overwhelming at times.

But all of that has come at a cost to myself. I'm a mama. In the time since earning that title, I've had to chose between sleep and exercise. Sleep won out and over the years and I've lost my fitness. Healthy eating habits were often sacrificed due to financial or time constraints.

Even though it's summer I'm still busy with the kiddos, work, volunteering and living life at a more relaxed pace so I'd forgotten about the application and figured that since we'd not heard from Mind + Body, that we hadn't been selected. But, sixteen days after hitting that button we got the news that Holy COW! The team of Karl and Amy was selected to participate in Project Purpose!

It's been a whirlwind of excitement and activity, and I am still in disbelief that we are embarking on this fabulous journey!  I'm filled with nervous energy and disbelief that this is for real, and downright terrified that I'm sharing so much personal information in print and on the net. I mean, who really wants to share with the world how much they weigh and all other stats. Gack!

I'm looking forward to deciding on a team name, seeing how our team picture turns out and read the first installment of our Project Purpose. I hope that you join us as we move through this adventure and strive to reach our goals!

Context is Everything

"I was so frustrated, I just wanted to grab their balls and squeeze them until they popped!" 

At work there is a list called 'Things Overheard during Finals Week'. It was started by one of our department counselors who has a most uncanny knack for walking into a room where a single sentence, taken out of context, can mean a something entirely different than what was intended. The list, while easily overlooked is quite funny and has grown to be quite long. 

The first line of this entry is one such example of something that could be found on the 'overheard' list. I was talking about the kids playing in the house with those irritating bouncy balls that nearly every grocery or discount store has in those giant cages that inexplicably draws your kid to them resulting in an ear piercing and insanity inducing 'BbbbuuuuT ma-MAAAAA PLEEEEEeeeeeeeeezzzzzeeeee....' as they beg for the one in the VERY MIDDLE until you are finally worn down or no longer want to be subjected to the piercingly judgmental glares of passing strangers as they respond to your 'precious' offspring howling for the millionth time.

Their bouncy ball games have resulted in overturned glasses of water, knocked over plants, swinging chandeliers, and one very sentimental and expensive rice paper watercolor being very nearly shucked from the wall. The one that I bartered for and then carried in my lap all over China, stored in here-and-there living situations for 20 years and finally was able to collect enough pennies to have it framed.

And then the kids began playing sports in the house. 

I was not (and am not) impressed by their athletic abilities in this situation.

Whenever I post an entry, it takes me forever to edit, update, and ensure that the entirety of the story's context can be found within the post to alleviate confusion or possible misunderstandings.

There have been many occasions on FaceBook or other 'on the fly' social media where my posts have resulted in harsh responses by those who don't know me well, or read an entry thru the filter of their own lives and don't see the subtle wry humor that I'm prone to. I'm trying to break that habit of over writing my blog posts and adopt more of a well written, but in-the-moment form. I need to write, I need to create, and over-editing stifles that.

Please gentle reader - if you happen to read something that gives you pause or causes you to 'see red' and drives you to respond - I invite you to compose and post a comment. Lets start a conversation - but I also ask that you 'step back' for a moment and see if it's there is context that might be missing - maybe you don't know me well, we don't share the same type of humor, or your life's story brings an entirely different context to the one you are reading.

As for the kids' balls, time solved my problem. 

That and a firm "I really Love that you are having so much fun with your balls, but those need to be played with OUTSIDE, please do so."

One popped when it was thrown against the sharp edge of a cottonwood trunk, the other when a child jumped on it in a demonstration of how 'look mom, it won't pop!'

And when it did, I comforted said child. Kissed his boo-boos and wiped away tears as we chatted about the poor ball.

Inside though, I did a virtual arm-pump and silently mouthed 'YES!'

Understanding one another.

It's your typical Tuesday evening. We are heading home in an unusually quiet fashion after having attended a school function of one sort or another as well as various afternoon activities.

Sharply without warning, JB burst out to BW.

 "I just DON'T Understand you."

Then she returned to her silent state leaving BW in a state of silent confusion.

And still, to this day, neither we nor BW know what prompted such passion in JB.

Expressions of nerdgasms

The boy discovered Minecraft.

While there are times that he drives us nearly to the edge of sanity with his detailed soliloquies, explanations and show-n-tells about what is going on in the game, there are times that he excitedly utters phrases that keep us in stitches and render it a challenge to remain 'incognito'.

These are a few that we were able to 'capture' during one extended session this spring break.



        "Why would you find an ocelot in the woods?!"

        "You're only on version 1.53?!"

        "I guess when you have quantum armor, horses are kind of pointless."

        "I have a space port, but right now it's being invaded by zombies."

        "I wouldn't recommend burning your own house."

        "See if you can defeat that golden zombie pig man with the diamond sword."

        "You need a splash potion of weakness then give them a poison apple."




Yes, indeed. The game does bring out the nerd in him.

Zipper Wars

D'oH!

Seeing JB in my 'most-favorite - had-it-forever - and-will-never-be-able-to-find-one-like-it-again' fleece vest took nearly every fiber of my being and a serious case of self-restraint to calmly approach her and ask her kindly to remove my vest from her not-so-little body and hand it to me.

With a deep sigh of relief I took it from her and kindly explained the following.

'JB. Thank you for giving me my vest. Please, please, please don't wear it. Even as much as I know you love how soft it is, and how it wraps around you like a big hug when you miss me, please. Do. Not. Wear. This. Vest. Ever.'

'But why Mama?' she asked, looking deep into my eyes with her own large hazel pools.

Charles, passing by on his way to the garage, stopped momentarily to clarify 'For generations now JB... well really since the invention of the zipper... children and zippers have been at war with each other. They each push, and pull, and tug, doing their best to see who will outlast the other.

'In the old days when zippers were made with metal, they could cause a child great pain and often won that way. Now most zippers are made out of plastic - so they win by doing things that no zipper should ever do... catching skin, or hair or even clothes in them.

'Really, zippers have evolved to become a torture device of Mamas minds and fingers across the land. No matter who the winner is, no zipper or child will ever be the same again. Though Mama could never love that vest as much as she loves your dear heart, I really, really, really don't want to have to go on another epic search with your Mama for another vest like that one. Does that make sense?'

'Oh. So Mama, is that why BW is always coming to you with his zipper undone at the bottom, but together up at his neck?'

'Yes. And wow. Do you remember that struggle to get that bugger down and the coat in working order again?'

Laughingly she replied 'He looked like the kid on Christmas Story, shaking all over the place - remember the time when BW somehow zipped his SHIRT in his coat!?'

'That I do. I also recall the times that you have battled the zipper yourself - only those usually involved hair getting caught in it.'

'OH! I DON"T want to talk about that! It HURT!'

No matter what the contribution to the wardrobe may be, if it has a zipper at some point there will be a great battle between it and it's child before the zippered wonder is banished from the house with a burst of exasperation and relief by Mama.

My vest will not be one of them. I hide it deep in the corners of my closet when not it's not in use.

Deep in the closet.

And, I have Charles on my side.