My life often looks more like a race to run, than a journey to observe, immerse myself in and learn from.

There is something rather unsatisfying about adopting a pace that speeds forward without noticing the surroundings, or the wake behind me. There’s also something unsatisfying about letting connection fall primarily to texts, e-mails or Facebook updates.

I recently feel unnerved by people having a window into our life solely via this blog, or FB, and I feel equally disheartened about knowing details of a friend’s life merely because I scrolled through the feed on my Smartphone out of boredom.

I don’t mean to blast the Internet by any means – so much can be done with its power, and it often IS an effective means of communication.

But I find myself longing for handwritten notes, for monumental life announcements to be made on the phone or, better yet, over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.

I feel a bit protective of our family – perhaps you should only know we launched Aidan’s first rocket after making BYO pizzas and cookies from scratch yesterday if we are, indeed friends. (And frankly, I don’t expect the masses would even care.)

I want simplicity. I want genuine connection. I want to make myself slow down and live IN THIS MOMENT – not always looking to the next thing, or frantically trying to get too much done, but really enjoying the act of spreading homemade pizza sauce on homemade pizza dough after a competitive game of Blokus with my delightful husband.

All this to say – I’m not swearing off chronicling life on this blog, or posting on FB, but it will probably be much less frequent.

We only get this life, and in this life all we can be sure of is this moment.

I want to put my love and energy into this moment, and the people I am spending it with. I want to slowly revel in the magnificent world around me and feel true gratitude. I want to live what I practice in yoga – breathing deeply with intent. I want to spend quality time with you, if we have a relationship in real life.

And so, I will.

Happy 2012.

At the end of the week, I rise between 4:30 and 5 am to start getting ready for work. My reason is two-fold: I’m able to meet with third shift employees at my job this way and it also affords me the opportunity to leave work at a time conducive to picking Aidan up from school.

I try to be as quiet as I can, tiptoeing around the house gathering the necessary items to depart for a work day. But Aidan has a sixth sense about his mama – he knows when I’m up and around, and he does not like to miss a good-bye kiss to his mother.

I was doing a final pass through the house yesterday, just ready to leave, when I heard a loud whisper.

“Mom? Can I get up and wave good-bye to you out the window?”

I went to his side in bed. “No, darling. It’s super early. Just go back to sleep. I love you.”

I quietly slipped out the back door and got in my car. As I was rolling backwards down the drive way, I saw our Christmas tree illuminate the front window, and my crazy-haired child peek out from the side. He waved ferociously, mouthing the words, “I love you, Mom.”

I couldn’t help but to shake my head and smile. Even though I specifically told him to stay in bed, I’m glad he disobeyed and snuck out to see me off. He went right back to sleep after the sly farewell, and both of our mornings were undeniably better.

No one was ever memorable without making a few waves.

Last time I got pulled over for speeding, I was immediately ticketed. I think it has something to do with wearing my emotions on my sleeve. I’m the worst liar in the world, and I’m sure the officer could see what I was truly thinking written all over my face:

“Listen, asshat. You and I both know I was going 57 in a 55 and the second I crossed into the construction zone (with zero workers present, might I add!) you clocked me because the speed limit changed to 45. You were waiting for me and I know it. I don’t want to talk about it, I refuse to plead with you, just give me the ticket.”

I would never actually say that, but I don’t need to. If you have any sense of perception, it’s obvious.

I would like you to know I successfully completed the Online Remedial Driver’s Ed course, intended for persons like myself who are generally safe drivers with no points on their license, but who earn themselves a ticket. I was far less worried about the fine than I was about points on my license and the subsequent insurance hike.

Earning 100% on all of the quizzes and the final exam got me out of points and a letter to my insurance company, as well as gifted me with a refrigerator-worthy certificate to mark my accomplishments.

(Note to those who fall in these same shoes – you are REQUIRED to take 45 minutes to read through something that takes no more than 10. And if you don’t stay active within the required reading for all 45 minutes, you’ll get logged out and have to start over! Joy.)

Anyways, let’s talk about someone who can get themselves out of a speeding ticket.

My husband.

Kyle has been pulled over three times since we started dating. Zero tickets.

The latest incident occurred this past weekend. We were in Northern Michigan for the holiday, visiting a friend’s family. We had just departed his place for the Bed & Breakfast we booked in Charlevoix. Kyle gets pulled over for going 71 in a 55.

Sixteen mph over the posted speed limit! This is how you get out of a speeding ticket:

Drive your wife’s car that is SO disorganized, she is literally rifling through 20 expired proofs of insurance in an effort to locate the current one. I could actually feel Kyle’s blood pressure rising, because his current proof of insurance and registration are neatly located in a little envelope in his glove box. I’m all, “So sorry, Officer! For some reason I have, like, five that expired in July! I’m sure I have a current one, just give me a minute here…”

Have a crying child in the back. In the hustle and bustle of getting pulled over and wanting to present ourselves well, Aidan was instructed to “sit still and shut up” by my mother. I should note that my mother has NEVER told Aidan to “shut up” and she said so in the nicest tone. The same tone you would gently inform someone to be quiet. But Aidan was so horrified at hearing that come out of her mouth, he literally burst into tears and let the waterworks roll in the back seat.

Even though she influenced the Aidan tears, have your mother-in-law, who is sweet and charming , in the back smiling at the officer.

Don’t make excuses and just own up to the speeding.

Evidently that is the recipe for not even getting a warning for going 16 over. I’m pretty sure the officer recognized the hot mess in the car and thought, looks like this dude has enough going on here – no need to make his day any worse!

I’ll have to work on my approach. (Or, you know, just not speed.)

I grew up seeking it in most ways. I wanted that paper with the A on it to be displayed on the fridge. I wanted an “atta girl” when I took the initiative to clean the house. I liked getting compliments when I took the time to get ready for Homecoming.

Funny thing I learned along the way - praise is not gratifying. At all.

Because all of a sudden you make major decisions based on what other people think. It becomes more about other people’s reactions to your choices than YOUR opinion of your choices.

You probably have a general idea of the things I enjoy, based on this blog. But I don’t need someone else to affirm my decisions to go to yoga, participate in NaNoWriMo as of yesterday or give me excessive kudos for making dinner or teaching my son to read. I do the things I do because they light my soul on fire. I would still do them, even if no one else ever knew about them, never gave me a positive word about what I engage in.

Intrinsic motivation is surprisingly challenging to teach. I want to praise Aidan for all the things he’s doing right - working hard at school, improving at soccer, helping me wash the dishes, listening to me the first time (when he does!). But I don’t want the reason he does these things to be out of a need to hear praise. I want his joy at sounding out a difficult word in his book to be because he’s proud of himself, not because I’m proud of him.

The other day he was working at the table and said, “I’m almost ready for you to look. I want to impress you.”

It made me cringe.

“You don’t need to impress me, son. You just need to feel good about the job you’re doing.”

Such a simple statement. So very hard to teach. That praise dragon is easy to fall victim to. I hope I can help the little one build confidence without relying on others.

On an unrelated side note, I also hope he stops losing teeth. Three across the top in a month!

Hoots & Hellmouth – Salt

Wilco – The Whole Love

Youth Lagoon – The Year of Hibernation

Happy Tuesday!

The colors have been amazing, particularly in TC, and Indian Summer is always a welcome highlight as we know we’re transitioning towards shoveling, sledding and skis.

If that weren’t enough, the Tigers finally closed a game with a win last night and I’m sporting green and white today, in anticipation of tomorrow’s MSU-U of M match up.

I rather love this state. If you’re ever in this neck of the woods (for those who don’t already reside here), let me know and I’ll happily suggest some of my favorite places to frequent.

I’m hoping you’ll do the same for me!

Kyle recently signed up for a Half Ironman in the New England area. So far we know we are flying in to Portland, Maine, traveling to New Hampshire for the Half Ironman and wrapping up our week in Boston. We know we want to stay in bed and breakfasts, visit the Sam Adams Brewery and catch a Red Sox game at Fenway.

But what else?

If you live near any of these areas, have traveled in that vicinity or somehow otherwise have recommendations, please share! We’re looking to find places with character to stay, awesome local eateries and embark on some adventures!

I’m excited that we’ll likely be able to check a few things off my 30 Before 30 list as well…#3 is Visit Maine, #6 is Visit a couple of wineries and breweries with Kyle and #30 is Visit a couple of bed and breakfasts in obscure places with Kyle.

So, any suggestions for our trip? If not, what do you love about your home state? Enjoy your weekend!

My little boy, kissing his bride mama.

Seeing each other for the first time on our wedding day.

Adoring each other.

Watching guests graze the beautiful grounds where the wedding and ceremony took place.

Laughing as our closest friends shared toasts.

Stealing moments together (happy that we thought ahead to get a little pewter heart marking our day that now hangs in the living room).

Dance party time – could the kids be any cuter?!

How beautiful the weather turned out (after some stressing!) and how fortunate we were to be able to use this venue for our day.

It was so lovely. And I’m glad we can just enjoy each other and not be planning anymore! We just booked our first couples’ vacation as an “old married couple”…details and requests for recommendations (accommodations, eating and adventures) to come!

The sky was light charcoal, the rain opening down on the field. Aidan was dressed in soccer cleats and I had just laced up my hot pink running shoes. He ran back and forth across the field, scoring a goal at one end, fighting to defend at the other. I looped around the three youth-sized fields over and over, at first warming up, then running a couple of miles at race pace.

The precipitation never let up, and neither did our determination. He was in his world doing his thing, I was in mine. But there was never much distance between us. I could see him from most angles of my run and, when he had a moment to break, he looked up and waved in my direction.

One of the most imporant lessons I’m trying to teach him is that he is not responsible for my happiness, nor am I for his. I gave birth to him, of course, but the life he leads is his. I guide him, shape him, show him unconditional love, support him.

But ultimately I am giving him a foundation to be independent. I know I am not like the other mothers there, the ones under golf umbrellas, just watching their little ones move across the field. In my own way, however, I am always there. I am multi-tasking per usual, getting my work out in while he practices. I want him to be okay without me, but I always want to be close enough to sprint to his side if he needs me – metophorically and literally. 

After his practice, we were both pretty drenched. As every other child scampered towards the parking lot, Aidan looked at me through wet lashes, “Mom, will you just practice with me a little while longer?”

It is my inner hope that he sees me circling the field and doesn’t think his practice is anything less than important to me. Instead it is my wish he is motivated by his mother’s drive to balance being a good mother and being a whole person on my own.

I ran the latest 5k in 22:01 – just over the 22 minute goal I’ve been trying to break en route to my goal of sub 20 minutes.

I’m not disappointed because I ran 22:01, or even because I was so close to breaking 22. I’m disappointed because I got 2nd place. And I could see the girl who beat me nearly the entire race (I led for a short while). I made up a good 15 – 20 seconds near the end, closing the gap. But it wasn’t good enough. She beat me by five seconds.

FIVE. SECONDS.

It’s haunting me today. Which is a good thing – I definitely care.

For the record, the race in general was quite slow. I shouldn’t have even had a shot at winning at that pace. But I did have that chance, and I didn’t do it.

I could argue all sorts of true things – I’ve been taking it easy training after a knee injury, I’m only running 15 miles a week or so, I waited too long to kick, because I definitely kicked harder.

But the only thing that matters is that I didn’t push myself hard enough. I pushed myself hard – I was tired at the end. Even so, I can honestly say I’ve never finished a race without something left in the tank. I always have more.

My wonderful husband AKA pacer helped push me through the race. At the end, he had these loving words for my disappointment, “You know, I just haven’t seen you grimace at the end…I want to see you finish a race and puke.” (In full disclosure, he was extremely supportive the entire race and told me how proud of me he was before making this comment.)

So that’s my new goal. Run so hard, so tough that I give my husband the pleasure of seeing me hurl at the finish line. I’ll keep you posted.