10 Goals & Only 31 Days Left!

So guess what? I DID learn to knit. And I’ve knitted myself a nice, purple, cozy 4”x 7” rectangle! I also opened my Etsy store and begun planning a big surprise for someone (that I cannot discuss on here yet because IT’S A SURPRISE). Also, I got a bike so I am one step closer to riding my bike to work. It’s really cold out though so “Have A Lemonade Stand” and “Ride My Bike To Work” are not going to be fun. And who is going to buy lemonade from me in 32 degree weather?

I have just 10 goals of my 25 left to conquer. Will I really make it to Arkansas? Judging by the busy schedule I have these next 5 weeks, probably not.

I have just felt really unmotivated to write lately. You know how that is, yes? Have you never had anything you just didn’t feel like doing? Something you wanted to do, that no one was forcing you to do, but you just kept putting it off anyway? No? Then that makes you a freak mutant and I want nothing to do with you and your freak mutant ways.

Here are some photos because I said so. They have almost nothing to do with this post, but I worked hard on the descriptions to make them seem like they fit here. Ok, I didn't work that hard.

Above: My parents came to visit a few weeks ago. They are the ones who brought me the bike!

Below: Some new things I'm working on for my Etsy shop. Andy set up this amazing work space for me. He got me a table and little storage drawer things, a drill for screwing holes into LEGOS and other toys, and some other awesome stuff. He's really awesome.

Number 2: Learn To Swim

Concentration; It’s why I didn’t learn to swim when I was five and my mother sent me to a very expensive day camp. Not my concentration, while that was definitely part of it, that wasn’t the reason. I mean the, um, what would you call it? A game? “Crack an egg on your head let the yoke drip down, let the yoke drip down…” Do any of you know what I am talking about? (See below for explanation if you don’t).

Anyway, instead of wanting to jump in to the frigid pool for an hour each day for swim lessons, I preferred to sit on my Tropicana Orange Juice towel, which my mother or grandmother no doubt got for free for saving all the proofs of purchase, and would play concentration along with the other non swimmers. I think of this “game” now and it’s really ridiculously pointless. But back then we thought it was the coolest thing. I went to this day camp for at least three summers in a row, everyday attending swim lessons. And everyday I refused to learn how to swim.

Summer camp was not my first time refusing swim lessons.

Four years earlier my mother took me to mommy and me swim class. Being that we lived on the beach with the Atlantic Ocean in our backyard, swim lessons must have seemed like a fabulous idea. My mother took me to the first few classes where I screamed my head off for a while before she finally gave up.

So now I am 27 years old and I can’t swim. Don’t get me wrong I can tread water for at least 20 minutes at time (I know because I’ve timed myself at the gym), longer if my life depended on it. I can easily get from place to place in the pool, but I am tired of looking like a golden retriever doggie paddling with my head above the water. It looks especially ridiculous when I swim laps at the gym next to people with swim caps and goggles who can complete 6 laps in the time it takes me to get to the end of the lane.

Lilly is 19 months old now and loves the water. I am of course going to want her to learn to swim. How can I expect her to learn if I never have? Soon she’ll be saying, “Mommy, you can’t go play in the pool without me because you can’t swim and I can!”  Plus swimming is just one of those basic life saving skill things I should just know how to do by now. Being an adult that can’t swim honestly makes me feel kind of stupid. So this is why I want to learn.

It’s funny that I have a husband who I’ve known now for over six years, who is an incredibly strong swimmer and I still haven’t learned, not that he hasn’t tried to teach me. He just assumed (and rightfully so) that since I am an adult in my twenties I would catch on much faster than say, a five year old. Unfortunately when it comes to anything involving rhythmic breathing I can’t seem to be able to do two things at once. In fact, at the gym, when I lift weights or use the machines, Andy has to constantly remind me to breath. Breathing out under water, in out of the water, turning my head, kicking my legs, moving my arms… it is just a lot to be able to do at once.

Andy and I have been going to the gym for six and half week’s straight now, nearly everyday (I’ve lost 8 pounds so far- he’s lost 35-uhhhh, but don’t get me started on that…). Last week instead of hitting up the treadmill and the machines as usual, Andy decided he would teach me to swim.... More than once that evening he referred to my swimming attempts as that of a “drunk mental patient” (the same term he used to describe my first person shooter abilities while playing Call Of Duty). I am sure I swallowed more water than a small child would while learning to swim (I burped up what tasted like chlorine at least twice that evening- gross I know). However I did begin to get the hang of it. I had trouble opening my eyes under water and then lifting my head out of the water because, for some reason, my first instinct was to then close my eyes when out of the water and this kept messing up my breathing causing me to reverse and swallow large amounts of water. So I kept my eyes closed and swam into the wall at least four times. All in all I made some progress. More than I ever had before. I think the reason for that is because this time, I was really determined.

The following night I went swimming at the gym by myself with some goggles. Being by myself suddenly made me really aware of all the other people at the pool watching me, a grown woman, struggle with trying to swim (and even worse, get overly giddy when I did something  right)- I am sure many of the other swimmers were questioning my mental abilities at this point, but I had to just forget about it and not care. The goggles really helped! I stopped worrying about opening and closing my eyes and about swimming into the wall. I made it all the way across the pool twice (so one lap, but not consecutively). My only problem was I then got so excited that I actually did it that I began smiling and forgot to breath…

I am almost there. I think a few more weeks working on it at the gym and I should have it down. I am glad I have gotten over the feeling stupid part because I can’t swim. Lots of adults can’t swim. I couldn’t possibly be the only one out there. And if I am, then soon the world will be rid of all non-swimming adults. Then my work here will be done.

Above: Age 5, being helped by my grandfather Louis, the one Lilly is named for, at my Aunt Hope's pool.

Below: Age 7, still with water wings, at Ed and Ariella Angert's pool. Seven and still wearing "water wings" and for some reason holding an umbrella...

Above: Age 10 after swimming at my Aunt Randee & Uncle Mike's pool. Uncle Mike would always throw me into the pool. I hated that. It certainly did not help me want to learn how to swim.

Below: Last summer with Lilly (age 7 mos) having a night swim at the condo pool.

Above: At the Dead Sea in Israel this past January. So much fun to be able to just sit there and float... No swimming required!

Below: This summer "swimming" with Lilly (18 mos) at the condo pool.  

Explanation Of “Concentration”

Let's pretend you're doing this on somebody named Shaniqua (why Shaniqua? I don't know): Ask her to close her eyes and throughout whatever you're saying, tell her to think of her favorite color, unless it's black. It can't be black.

Crack an egg on your head (slap her head)
Let the yolk drip down (run your fingers down her back)

Let the yoke drip down (run your fingers down her back)

Let the yoke drip down (run your fingers down her back)

(Chorus)

Concentrate, Concentrate. (say this while tapping your hands on her shoulders)

People are dying
Children are crying
Concentrate, Concentrate

Stick some pins in your back, (poke her back with all your fingers simultaneously) Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)
Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)
Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)

(Chorus)

Stick a knife in your back, (make a fist and gently punch her back with the part of your fist with the thumb and forefinger) Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)
Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)
Let the blood drip down (run your fingers down her back)

(Chorus)

Okay, you're at the empire state building, way at the top. You're walking, walking, walking... Suddenly you hear someone call your name. (Call Shaaaaaniiiiqua.... in one ear, then the other) You look up(angle her head up), down(angle her head down), side(turn her head to one side), to side (then the other). No one there. You keep walking. Then you hear it again(call Shaaaaaniiiqua... again). You look up down, side, to side (whole tilting thing again). No one's there. You keep walking. Look, you've reached the edge of the building. look, there's cars below you, can you see them, way down there? Your name again, but you ignore it. Suddenly you feel a PUSH(push her so she steps forward, but not hard enough to push her down)! Ask her what color she thought of and which one she saw when she got pushed. 

When they open their eyes they’re supposed to see the color they were think of… I think it only works if you were thinking of red.

Goal Number 1: Take A Yoga Class At The Gym= FAIL

Yesterday afternoon I accomplished another one of my goals. It was a total failure.

Andy took me to a yoga class at the gym. I was super excited to go. I thought it would be fun because I usually like the classes at the gym. My mom, Andy and I arrived at Wilson’s Fitness about 20 minutes before the class. The classroom looks amazing for yoga. It has floor to ceiling windows that make up one whole wall and look out over a beautiful wooded area.  We got our mats and arranged them at one side of the room. I did a few stretches first with my mom.

At first yoga seemed nice. The exact turning point was when she had us do downward dog pose. You are on all fours but your legs are extended with your butt up in the air.  My wrists began to hurt a lot. The instructor (or teacher…yoga master?) said that your hands and feet should equally be supporting your weight. Well that wasn’t happening. I kept trying to redistribute my weight more evenly but exactly how to go about doing that is still something I’d like to know. Really, I’d like to know.  It got harder and harder and the combination of my very short limbs and torso with my enormous size triple D chest (yes, yes, I know. Leave me alone) did not help. I couldn’t stretch my arms out and touch the ground without my boobs getting in the way. I didn’t even care all that much that I couldn't do the poses but, I was beginning to get stressed and angry and why that was, I am not even sure.

I have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) and I’ve always been told that yoga is great for those with ADHD which is sort of why I wanted to try it in the first place. It is supposed to help you learn how to train your brain to concentrate longer and harder (something that can prove nearly impossible for people with ADHD). Getting angry and frustrated did not help me concentrate. Wait no, it did. I concentrated on the clock and watched the minutes tick by very slowly. I usually have a rule for myself when I take classes at the gym, which is that I cannot look at the clock. This time I couldn’t help it.

The instructor kept saying “If you’d like to take a journey, try it this way…” and “Listen to your body”. I was listening to my body and it was saying “GAHHHH! SARA, WHAT THE EFF?!?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? GET UP! LEAVE! GO!” So I was trying NOT to listen to my body. By this point only 15 minutes had gone by and my new goal had become making it through this stupid class.

I kept going. Sometimes doing my own variation of the poses the instructor showed us. I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier and feeling more and more stressed. I envisioned myself screaming a slew of horrible things at the teacher and punching her in her stupid face. I guess that was my journey. A lot of imaginary screaming and punching and little bit of imaginary kicking. I think at some point I even imaginary hit her over the head with an imaginary crow bar.

I am not usually by any means an angry person. I am rarely angry and when I am, “Angry Sara” doesn’t look all too different from “Happy Sara”, except in yoga apparently.

I did make it to the end of the class. But not before promising myself I would never ever put myself through that again. And then Andy said to me that he really enjoyed himself and that he would love to come back to yoga. This is the first class at the gym we have ever taken together that he enjoyed so I said “Well, I’ll come back and do it with you”. What? Really Sara?  You’re going to put yourself through that unbearable torture AGAIN!?

Yes. Yes I will. Maybe I will get good at it. Maybe I will merely learn to tolerate it. But I guess I at least have to give it more than just one try. 

If you have any advice on yoga, I'd LOVE to hear it! Comment here or on Facebook. Please! I need all the help I can get!

Above: Stretching Before Class

Below: Kvetching After Class

Why My Mom Is More Awesome Than Yours.

I am not really a super mushy emotional person. Unless a Disney World commercial comes on or a commercial with a dog. Then I bawl like a baby.  I am incapable of love. No, not really, but I have a hard time expressing how I feel.  But, for this Mother's day I am going to tell you why my mom is super awesome in a super mushy way. It won't really be that bad, I promise. So here goes...

When Mrs. Berman, my first grade teacher was being unfair, my mom went down to that school to talk it out with the teachers. She didn’t take a “my child can do no wrong” approach to anything. I was always held accountable and for that I am grateful. When I had a difficult time learning to read, she worked with me every night. Through all of the tears and the tantrums, she remained patient and calm. 

She taught me how to French braid and make lanyards, how to play softball and jump rope. She saw my potential even when I didn’t and showed me that with a lot of hard work I could succeed. She taught me patience and teaching a girl with ADHD patience is not an easy feat. 

She taught me it’s ok to laugh at myself. She once made a little tiny curtain for what you'd think was a super tiny window. She asked me if I needed it for anything and then said, in her punny way, "Are you sure? Because the window of opportunity is closing..." She then hung the little tiny curtain on the microwave with a little sign that said "The Window of Opportunity". I laughed so hard when I found it. 

She taught me not just to treat everyone with respect and kindness, but HOW to treat people with respect and kindness. She taught me how to admit I was wrong and how to apologize. She taught me how to stand my ground and when to just let things go. She taught me how to be a mom. If I am a fraction of the awesome my mom was than I know my daughter will grow up a lucky girl.

I was a very difficult child and I don’t know if my mom knows just how grateful I am for all of her patience and support, but I am more grateful than she will ever know. Thanks, Mom!

It also must be mentioned that I have the most amazing mother-in-law a girl could ever ask for. She is my mom when my mom can't be there and I am so grateful to have the love and support of such a wonderful mother and person. Andy is very lucky to have a mom like her. And I am so lucky to have two awesome moms!

And that is why my mom (and my mother-in-law) is more awesome than yours. I am just kidding. I am sure your mom is awesome too, but you'll have to prove it. I'll give a prize to the person with the most awesome mom (well, the the way I see it, the second most awesome mom, no wait the third). 

Please, if you have a moment, comment and tell me why your mom is awesome. Or why your Mother-in-law is awesome. Or why you yourself are awesome. Just spread some awesomeness and the best one will get a prize that I don't know what it is yet. I mean a surprise prize. Yeah... I am of course the judge on this. You have till Tuesday. If no one comments I'll know you didn't read this all the way through. And then I won't be your friend anymore.

Above: My mom with me, age 1, 1985

Below: My mom with the cake at my firetruck birthday, probably 1988.

Above: My mom is also the best Nana!

Below: My mom with her mommy and my daughter

Below: 3 generations of awesomeness.