Scene: Saturday night, master bathroom. Henry’s in the shower. Mom (me) is flat-ironing her hair.

Henry: Where are you going?

Mom: Date night. I gotta look pretty.

Henry: Are you going out with a boy other than Dad?

Mom: (shocked and trying not to giggle) No baby, I’m going out with your dad. He would be mad if I went out with another boy. Just like I would be mad if he went out on a date with another girl.

Henry: But he does go out on dates.

Mom: Really? How do you know?

Henry: Because I’m his wingman.

Mom: What does that mean? And are you for real?

Henry: It means I’m in charge of him. And no, I’m just kidding. But I am his wingman.

End scene.

Running With Just Your Body And Your Thoughts

Running With Just Your Body And Your Thoughts


Today I headed out for a 5 mile run. I didn’t really want to mess with headphones because lately they’ve been falling out of my tiny ears and have just been more trouble than they’re worth.

A few weeks ago, on my daily running calendar, it had talked about every now and then going out without music or GPS and just run. Do what your body wanted you to and be intentional about everything that goes into a run. I thought that I might try that one day, just for kicks.

Today was that day. I didn’t leave my GPS behind because I’ve been trying to do 2/1 intervals instead of 5/1 intervals this weekend and needed the beeping reminders, but I left the headphones in the car.

And then I experienced what I consider to be a 5 mile meditation.

At first it was frustrating because I have a hard time regulating my breathing, especially during the first mile. I think I was focusing too much on that to notice all the other sounds. But once I did… it was magical.

The tweeting of the birds and the chirping of the crickets.

The whirring of the bikes and the rhythmic pounding of other runners’ feet.

Erratic and loud breathing turned into smooth and quiet breathing, and the sound of my head pulsing that can normally be heard through the headphones was nonexistent.

The consistent sound of my Garmin telling me to run or walk was comforting.

My experiment with 2/1 intervals was successful. Since I went headphoneless, I decided not to look at my pace or distance and only at the walk/run times. Once I was finished, I realized that I was as slow and steady as I’ve ever been.

And sometimes that’s the best way to run… with just your thoughts and your body.


I Mean, Why Bother?

Something as simple as laundry has to be so freaking complicated, doesn’t it?

The first thing I always hear after a load is done with new clothes in it is, “Why did you shrink this?”

I didn’t shrink it. If something that’s already been “pre-shrunk” (pre-shrunk, my ass) can’t be washed in cold water with cold rinse and dried on low (i.e.: you have to dry it 5 times before it’s actually dry), then how is it my fault?

Why can’t I take it back to the store and say, “hey, this shirt freaking shrunk and it’s already been pre-shrunk. I want my money back.”

At least, couldn’t they put a guideline on the garment saying it will shrink up 13% or something? Why are there no repercussions?

I’m very careful when it comes to laundry, but damn if everything doesn’t shrink during the first wash. There’s no “colder” way to wash the clothes than the way I’m doing it.

And why the hell do the clothes shrink up to be SHORTER? The last 3 shirts I’ve bought for me and Jason have been so long in the store and then have shrunk at least 25% in length during the first wash.

This is not ok. Why isn’t there an outcry about THIS? It’s a public nuisance. Somebody should be in jail or at least fined for this. I demand justice!

Why do they even bother putting the liar liar pants on fire label on them that says, “This garment has been pre-shrunk.” if it hasn’t really? That’s false advertising. Also, A LIE.

I don’t like liars.

And I don’t like clothes that shrink.

It was all fine and dandy…

The morning was great.

He got up, got dressed, and even brushed his teeth without my having to ask.

The excitement and anxiety was getting the best of him so breakfast was a bust. He decided on some yogurt and water. That’s fine. That’s what I would choose, too.

He moseyed into school, tall and confident, saying hi to everyone he passed. That’s my little social butterfly (read: class clown) who never meets a stranger, but if he does, he turns them into a friend.

With a quick wave goodbye, he was off to start third grade.


If only I could stop time. Or at least pause it.

I spent the day at work wondering if he was having fun or not. Was he getting in trouble for talking too much? Was he fidgeting in his seat or being impulsive? Was he hungry or tired?

I knew all the answers, because when he’s with others, he doesn’t get in trouble for talking too much (most of the time) and he doesn’t fidget too much in his seat. He doesn’t have to eat every 3 minutes and he would never act like he needed a nap.

Picking him up at his after school program, he reported that the day was “great! And I like my teacher, but not as much as Miss F in first grade. Nobody even got their clips flipped and the class didn’t get in trouble one single time.”

I’d call that a success, wouldn’t you?


It was all fine and dandy til the homework folder came out.

Even though the math homework for the night was kinda optional, it was still going to get done. BUT THE TEARS! (Whose, you ask? Uh, his? Mine? Both?)

I just…

I’m speechless. In spite of my making a cute little chart that has rewards and everything tied to doing his best and not arguing and not making either of us cry, we succeeded in crying on the first night of school.

I mean, come on. How do you get your child to do homework without tears? Because we can’t do this every night. We just can’t.

:::waves white flag:::

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Do Over

It’s back to school time. Again. Seems like it’s always back to school or back to school after Christmas break. Or back to school after Spring Break.

This year, I’m taking a Do Over. What’s something YOU would like to do over if you could? Or what are you going to do over?

Today’s (totally optional) prompt: Do Over

stream of consciousness sunday

Last year I failed as a mom. At least in my eyes I did.

I started working the same day Henry went back to school. I was behind from day 1.

My brain tells me I failed him.

I was always a step behind, forgetting things I shouldn’t, missing spirit days, failing to make sure he did xy&z.

I never could get ahead.

This year is going to be different.

I spent all day yesterday getting ready for school to start. The house is clean. A million loads of laundry are done. New school clothes are bought. A family calendar is hanging up with color coded dry erase markers.

A homework station is set up and my calendar is filled out completely.

This year is going to be different.

We’re not going to be stressed because we didn’t know about a certain special day. We won’t let him fall behind in math, and will stay on top of falling grades.

Our new chore/responsibility/reward chart will be enforced.

My brain is ready, along with the house. Now to get through the last week of summer and hit the start of 3rd grade with gusto!

Getting a chance to have a “do over” at the beginning of each school year is a blessing. 


This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar). .
  • Link up your post below.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.


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