4AM

Luke "Kimberly, I need help."

Me "Okay, what did you do?"

Luke "It was stupid. Don't ask."

Me "This needs stitches. Did you pass out?"

Luke "Only a couple times."

Me "The next time Cody does something stupid for no good reason, I'm going to remind you of this."

Don't worry. I patched him up with butterfly stitches and superglue. Unfortunately, I'm not the most gracious nurse at four in the morning so some jeering was involved. Needless to say, Luke's sworn off playing with knives in the middle of the night.

In Pieces

I think I should just admit it. I feel like a failure as a parent. I've homeschooled my kids for several years. Which sort of feels like confessions of civil war.
Now that all five of my kids are going to private school, I've been able to see the areas that I seriously let them down. I'm not the sharpest pencil in the box, and I have my blond moments, but I thought I was holding my own. And perhaps against the public school system I was, but not this school.
Justin is having stress seizures without blacking out. It's kinda like he's coherent one minute and the next, if you ask him what color his shirt is, he'll say " 7!"

Bethany has dyslexia. Which, to anyone who has a child like this, is one of the most frustrating things imaginable. (Spell the word "four"..... fore, for, fuor, fr, fer, orf, erof, four.

Dulcey has a smashed finger, thanks to Cody. Which looks horrific, and may need more treatment than just a bandaid. (we'll see)

Anna-Claire has a finger that is so bad, she's lost most the flesh off of the tip and half of the nail. I've made her soak it twice a day (crocodile tears), and neosporin and it still looks gruesome.

As for me, I've been in the ER, I'm in pain, and now I'm pretending it's all been just a bad dream. I'm cranky, and irritable, and I've spent half of the grocery bill on gas just to trek across town several miles to pick up and drop off one child or three or two, or whoever is suppose to be getting in my car.
I feel like a new mother again. You know that moment when you bring your first child home from the hospital and it's like 11pm and you're exhausted and the kid looks at you and you look at it and think "Well.... what now?"

I just want to cry.

PUSH IT!

As you all know, Luke and I embarked on a dash that took us through an obstacle course, blood infested mud, fire and all three miles of it at a breath sucking elevation of roughly 10,000 ft elevation.
Okay, so the beginning wasn't so bad... the junkyard (jumping over cars) was kind of a joke but still fun. The hay bales weren't the hay bales I had in my head- super easy. Hell's hills were exactly that... and wow, there was just no real way to run it the entire stretch (since you can't freaking breathe!!!!) But once I hit the downhill, it was actually easy. Like skiing downhill, I just let gravity take me and coasted the whole way down. The "6ft wall" I had been so nervous about was actually a series of 3 3ft walls. (To which I slung my foot over and saddled).
Now, I'm not saying it was easy. But it very well could've been done by anyone. I could've princess pranced the whole freaking thing. There were old ladies with "titanic survivor" t-shirts that could walk this sucker. Yeah, the mud is gonna make you get down and dirty, and the walk the plank is no freakin joke (you fall, you're gonna break something- hopefully not vital), but I really thought it was gonna be more of a challenge.
Now, don't get me wrong. I was definitely sore the next couple of days. Ironically in the one and only place I don't like to workout. I like my calves. They're not firm, they're tiny, and they have a perfect curve. That said... they're completely useless. And they were screaming at me all week.

So, this week. As I've completely recovered from warrior dash, a good friend of mine. The one and only, Kathy, who convinced me to do the warrior dash in the first place.... gives me this website.
A website that makes the warrior dash, the medal I earned, the t-shirt I bought, and the photos I took, look like a freaking theme park ride as Disneyland!!!!!!!
So... of course, I'm doing the warrior dash again next August.... but....


I'm doing the TOUGH MUDDER in July! (average finish time 2.5 hrs)http://toughmudder.com/info/


The thing about it is..... it benefits wounded soldiers. Like I said in my Monday motto.... "do it even though it's hard, cause there's always someone who wishes they could" Yeah, it's gonna hurt, and take a lot of energy and I'm gonna wanna quit at some point, but I'm going to finish this... because I know I can and I've been blessed enough to have the ability.

Time to step up that 3.5 mile run, 50 burpees a day, thank you bodypump training 10 hour days, BRING ON THE PAIN!!!!!

Being Neighbors in Crime

So here's the deal. For the last five years, I've gone down to the local fireworks tent. Bought over forty dollars worth of cheap sparklers, fountains, whistlers, and ground blooms.
And for the last five years, our neighbors have brought out every assorted bottle rocket, and flying whatevers that put the city park's display to shame. They've practically blown the paint off of nearby trucks and scared the *you know what* out of small children (including my own). All for a lot less dough than my lousy attempt at patriotic pride.
So this 4th of July, we're doing our neighborly duty and getting *out of state* fireworks. At this point, its practically tradition to break the law on the day the Declaration of Independence was signed. Makes perfect sense to me. And it's a whole lot cooler!

Not to worry, we keep a five gallon bucket of water and a hose ready at all times.

It's Not So Bad

I've recently stepped up my workout routine. Crazy? I used to think so.
With dirty looks and cursing those who did this, I went running. Not the first time ever, but the first time with an actual goal. The first day was two miles of complete torture. I think I walked half of it. I cried half and I swore people who did this in the name of "fun" were insane.
Yet, I did it again. And again. And again. And again. Now, I find that I can't get enough.
Not only am I finally able to eat that french fry that I haven't in three years, I'm finally dropping those last ten vanity pounds without losing muscle and hair.
I know ... it sounds like total ridiculous torture to someone who doesn't run... but I swear, I never thought I could do this. Trust me, it gets easier so much faster that I thought it could.

On an important note... good running shoes, athletic insoles, and finding someone who can watch you and correct your running form is a major deal. Shin splints are no fun at all!

Now... my goal is to kick freakin arse at the warrior dash in august. Yeah... I know. I guess I've got a competitive streak that runs deep, but only seeps out when called to.

EXPOSED

I'm sick of saying I'm a writer with nothing to show for it. I've currently written a 381 page novel with a sequel to come. I would lie if I didn't say I didn't love my characters more than anything else. Writers are weird like that I suppose. Well here's my query. A query, btw, is a one page report on the entire story. The most difficult thing about a book. The Pitch. The Line. The BS between whether its works or doesn't.
So here I am.
Exposed.


Genevieve Marshall, Evy, is just trying to make it through life without going crazy. She’s tormented by wild memories with strangers and major migraines that no one can seem to explain. She’s grasping at straws until one day she finds Adam, the stranger from her memories. (not to mention, the living pain killer) She follows him (well, who wouldn’t) and demands answers to once and for all put to rest these visions.

Undead, Adam Fischer, is trying to hide from the one thing he can’t, love. Love stinks at all angles! It’s only created misery and heartache. But a guy can never catch a break. He finds himself not only drawn to Evy, like a moth to a torch, but journeying through their tragic and ugly past together, yet again. The one thing he told himself he wouldn’t do, of course.

As they revisit his historic journals, Evy learns that Adam hasn’t died for over two hundred years and that she’s been coming back to him throughout the past. But she also gets the doozy of finding out that someone’s been stalking them both throughout time as well. From their first encounter with death in Germany, 1786, to a present day high speed chase through the canyons of Colorado, they find themselves racing to prevent another one of life’s delay’s, DEATH!

This novel is the perfect example of how the phrase “Death cannot stop true love, but only delay it for while” is no fun at all.

Currently, a sequel is in the works.

If It Were You...

You know that "I know I'm forgetting something important" feeling?
I got home and went through everyone's schedules today. Now I know that Friday night is a disaster area and the rest of the weekend just took a steep dive.

Okay... so how do I do this?
Thursday 6pm - 8pm (Adult classes)
Thursday 7pm (leave for Delta orchestra practice... stay for who knows how long, get home late)

Friday 8am-5pm (work at JHOF)
Friday 4:30am-7:30pm (Luke's overtime)
Friday 5:30pm (leave for Delta Spring Concert, get home who knows when... be driven nuts in the car with several children)
Friday 6pm (leave for Denver)
Friday 7pm (game night)

Saturday (Denver trip to the zoo... come home )
Saturday (install a well needed patio)

Sunday 10:30-12:00 (church)
Sunday 1pm (leave for Montrose concert)

Next Friday is shaping up to be worse with a concert in Ouray.

The Denver trip is obviously out of the question. Game Night cancelled. Ditching adult classes (kinda important).
I understand the responsibility of being part of a group performance and the problems it causes when someone can't make it. I honestly wish we could get the flu so bowing out would be excusable. That sounds horrible I realize, but what can I say? I'm so not happy about any of this.

What would you do if it were your child?