Running Stitch

Monday: Walked 1.5 mile and am sore. Confused on whether I can stretch, have done some calf raises and ankle circles, because yeah, sore. But have stopped there. Dressed self today, Scott was gone, socks were hard but got er done. Have to be careful not to turn quickly (while talking and walking especially). Remembering to not pick things up or reach for something and lift it it hard.

Tuesday: Watched talia bring the firewood in and do the dishes. Awesome. She drove three hours to babysit me and the boys overnight, and haul firewood. She likes it!!!

Wednesday: Scott back, it is really nice to have help with socks again. (Didn’t want to ask Talia)

Thursday : Walked 1.5 miles, the walking is good, the stopping is not. Do I stretch? I’m tired and achy but I drove the car today. Took Moo and myself to get haircuts.

Friday: Relaxed with Legolas and had pedicures. I skipped the chair massage and chose green polish. She chose a ‘get out of my belly’ rose color. She didn’t go into labor during the pedicure so we ambled over to Starbucks and then through Ross, relishing our leisurely lives that are about to screech to an end, with the arrival of baby # 3 for her and return to normalcy for me..it’s coming…soon.

Saturday: Supermom had a bowling party at a bowling alley. I hired a stand in. She was cute, runs fast and has a flatter belly. We call her MB. I think maybe Wah likes her the best.

All in all this week’s biggest challenge is remembering. Remembering not to twist suddenly, remembering not to reach or over extend. And of course not to receive any heavy objects that folks may unthinkably hand my way.

I’m ready to start thinking about yoga, and sit ups and the itch is there. Not just the healing surgery site itch either. But I have another week to wait for my post op apt with the surgeon. And I’ll make it. It is important to me to get better.

Grandma best birthday cake maker ever…

Our weekend was a whirlwind of activity and emotions. Even now it is hard to follow the Relay with the Magic Treehouse Party!!!!! (you have to say it with the exclamation points)

But life often is like that, too much, too close together, it rarely waits for us to be ready.

We made the effort to be ready though. Weeks of preparation by the boy, and a mad dash of day of preparation by the dad.

party hats made by the boy.

I mostly lay around pointing to things asking for grapes. I did make some lists. Lists of things for everyone else to do. I’m a mean list maker. Hey you, get me a shirt that says “I had back surgery and all I got was this shirt, and this list”.

before

In between being ordered around and cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush ( I don’t know what is wrong with him) The Man whipped up this icy scene.

Polar bears past bedtime.

There was a custom made story, read by Poppop and then the partygoers were off to find the clues to help Jack and Annie find their way to Moo’s birthday party.

There was a treasure hunt, some painting, some coloring, and some decorating of tasty treehouses.

perfect.

I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. His eyes were this wide for most of the day.

Not pictured above are Supermom, Motorbutt, Miami mama, Legolas and Mr. Legolas, The Man, Poppop, Grandma, or Aunt Lauren. All of whom stayed for the party. My friends took very good care of me, and did most of the work. Monitoring not only me but the boys, swooping into keep little brother from a meltdown. Helping to decorated 15 odd tree houses, helping to paint centipedes and snakes. My dad read to the kids, the other menfolk moved furniture, disentangled children, and only did a little bit of hiding in they yard.

Afterall I didn’t want Mia or Kelli to reach through the computer and beat me up.

It was a pretty magical day.

*Everything-Michael Buble

In between laps

A year ago today, we drove to Spokane to say goodbye

This weekend we braved that bright orb in the sky and drove south to the Erik Anderson Memorial Relay. Where we watched old friends

Lee checks out the shirt

and new friends run in circles, 20 400′s (don’t worry I didn’t know what it meant either -but now I do, and next year? TEAM TURTLEDASH!) in his honor.

The man. he runs.

The Man and Brette yakkity yak

Of course some folks just stood around yakking. Or complaining that they had back surgery *eye roll*. Whiners.

Hard to believe an entire year has passed.

Friends of Erik’s turned Turtledashers checking out the shirt

“Isn’t it funny,” he said to me this weekend as we drove home from the Relay, “how Erik was always ‘Mariza’s husband’ that guy who came home late in track clothes, talked about the kids, (team) and how great they were doing while chasing his daughter around the house and goofing off.”

Mariza and The Moo

He was the dad at the birthday party cradling the infant and protecting her from falling objects (sometimes children) while Mariza and I goofed off watching kids dart around and making smart remarks.

Turbo, still prone to smart remarks…making fun of someone’s drink

He came with Mariza, he was Ripley’s dad. He was someone I heard more about than saw. I heard he could run and that he was fast.

At his funeral though we sat in awe, because this funny, loving husband/father guy we knew was revered by others.

Crystal organizer of the event

He had inspired hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Everyone who talked said, “he made me want to be a better person’. Everyone I talked to said ‘he was the type of person I want to be’. His runners said ” I ran fast for him, because he believed in me on and off the track, because he wanted what was best for me’. Friends said ‘he was the best kind of friend, the one you always wanted on his side’ Family said, ‘you always led the way, always guided the path.

His wife said “I am so proud that he is finally getting the recognition he deserves, that I always knew he deserved.” Proud and broken hearted she stood before us and said “Erik and I really had a great life” and her baby cried for her during the service and when she went to hold her, the little one pointed to the picture projected on the wall and said ‘da!” And in the middle of the speech, while so many of us tried not to sob like the babies we were reduced too she said to her daughter ‘yes, that’s dad.’ and then she went on with her talk.

Turbo and her brother

“And yet,” my husband continued, as we drove North away from as sort of reunion of friends, “he inspired all these people. I thought he was a great guy. A stand up guy, loved his wife, loved his kids, was friendly. Never once did he mention that he the NWAACC Cross Country Coach of the Year ” (in 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 and NWAACC Track and Field Coach of the Year in 2001 and 2003. )

taking a breather between turns

The Spokane Community College Website still touts Coach Erik Anderson has been named Coach of the Year in the NWAACC 12 times and has coached over 90 community college All-Americans in the last 11 years.

My husband, has so much respect for this man, as do I. We respected him. Because he really did speak with his actions. It wasn’t until later that we realized how many, his actions spoke to.

But I saw a few of them last Saturday, running in circles, breathing hard and pushing forward because one man that we all respected, inspired them to.

Take it EZ….

*winter song-sara bareillies

Originally posted November 7th, 2007.
but I wanted to repost because it’s funny…

You go and you go and you go

Yeah small town, or maybe you should google it because I give terrible directions.

You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) by Dead or Alive

I finished up this hat on the way to the Relay Saturday morning.

It is very large, I’m not sure why although I suspect this is what Neighbor girl meant by “tension swatch”. Oh, the knitting stuff I have to learn. I realize that this should have been blocked but I was driving so it wasn’t and it was toasty on the noggin, because despite the sun it was quite chilly Saturday morning especially for those of us who are not able to move fast…or at all.

I really like the fly away ear flaps. Very flying Nun.

You gotta be-Des’ree

This weekend was long. I ventured out of the house Saturday and have stood for almost all of the weekend. Standing! Who knew it would be this hard?

This weekend was a celebration of life. The life of one small boy who is now six. Six!

And the celebration of one man. Who has gone on ahead. Saturday morning I watched that man’s friends run in circles. They called it a relay but really it was circles.

As I stood on the sidelines I said to another “I always expect these things to be more painful” “Yes,” He said “but then we find ourselves outside on a beautiful morning, doing something Erik would have loved, and you know Erik is here an smiling!” “And laughing at us,” said I ” look at all these old, out of shape (ahem) folks that got up early to run in circles, just for him”. “yeah” he laughed “true.”

Sunday we celebrated Magic Treehouse style and The Burrow was filled to bursting point with friends and small ones and screaming. Wow. The screaming.

I’m tired, all that standing around, who knew? Still not ‘allowed’ to do much, and still unable to touch my toes, I’m getting better at dressing myself. Bonus.

This week I decided I need to get a schedule. Finding yourself with a lot of free time and very little to do (And by this I mean, very little I can do) means I’m not as productive as I should be. Oh sure I’ve watched three seasons of FriendS (Do Joey and Rachel end up together? weird!) Knitted four hats, and two beards.

But surely this week, I’ll be able to put on my own socks?

Yes.

Why?

Because Six years ago, I thought I was happy. I thought I knew what happiness was. And then there was you.

Why?

I thought I was in love, and then I met you and I fell in love in a way I didn’t know existed. Cliche. But true.

Why?

It just happens, it’s hard to explain. Just like the its hard to explain why I get irritated with all your ongoing talking and questions even though I love that about you. Love that you are interested in everything and want to learn and know ….everything. And yet sometimes, even I hit the wall and just want you to stop talking for one minutes…and then I regret it immediately because what are you thinking now? I want do know where your brain is now.

Why?

Because you are already such a big boy. Six. Next year Seven…I hear it keeps going and going and soon you won’t need me to read the Magic Tree house books to you, or hold your hand when you cross the street. Soon you won’t need me tor kiss away your bad dreams. You won’t reach for me when you are afraid. And I will miss it all so much.

Why?

I don’t know, I can’t wait to see who you will become, but a part of me will always miss the other yous. The baby you, the toddler you the you that skips off the school bus to tell me about school today and to challenge me to a rousing game of checkerboard (a complicated game where the magical creatures all sit on the board (hello harry potter) and then you knock them off very suddenly.

I can’t wait till we play real chess. Or go for long hikes, or …..

There is so much I can’t wait to see, and so much I will miss. I tell ya this Mama gig it is so hard.

You are already such a big boy, such a great big brother, always looking out for your ‘brudder’ and making sure he gets fair treatment. I am so lucky to know you. And so proud of who you are.

“does Harry Potter know that shut up is not a very nice word?”

ummmm.

First week

Happy Birthday Mr. Moo.

*Do You Believe In Magic by Aly & AJ

It’s not his first novel…

and certainly not his last…

*Telling Stories-Tracy Chapman

You can watch the sunrise at the Jersey Shore and the sun set on the ocean in the Pacific Northwest. I grew up traveling between these two coasts and often half to mentally stop to think which way is north depending on which coast I’m on. (I get it wrong a lot).

(July 2009)

This week is a long one for. Is it only Tuesday? Not made any shorter by the fact that I’m spending most of it in bed…still. Because chair, are hard…ow. Walking it good, and laying down is fine. Reclining in bed though is the most conducive to getting work done. And boy is it hard to get work done when you have all day to do it.

One year ago this Friday, The man woke me with the serious voice and the stunned face and the words that didn’t quite penetrate and what? Who are we talking about and then he said “there is an email, from Mariza” and all the words crashed into clarity.

And I was in his office reading an email that said “Dear Friends, Erik was killed yesterday in an accident at the school” and I was crying. Because that was all there was to do.

I typed a pointless email through tears. and tears and tears because what else was there? Nine hours away, with children to take care of.

And The Man went to work like everyday. And I took the boys to playgroup. And it was just like a normal day…except nine hours away my friend’s life was changed…..forever.

A year later, I still have the tears. I don’t know why… Do I cry for her, for him? for the girls? for me? for the terror. The absolute terror, that it could happened to me?

Grief they say is defined by others. Others, want to know when you ‘are ready’ to move on. They need those touchstones so they know how to act around you. Will she ever be over him? How? Can you be over someone? When their time is cut short, when they leave behind small daughters whose memory of him will be vague at best?

So much has changed in the year since Erik died. Memorial runs sprung up all over the state in his name. A tribute to the lives that he touched.

As for us, we got our affairs in order. If a freak accident could take the healthiest, most loved man we knew. Then it makes sense to be prepared. A Will is a hard thing to sign. Hard to think about. But put into perspective I know that the best thing for the boys is for their parents to have their affairs in order should something happen to us.

One day this year I sent my five year old off on a huge yellow bus, without seat belts and no one called to tell me he got there or that he was fine. I had to wait four hours to find out how he was (and to coax him off the bus! the Bus! that goes to Kindergarten!).

He loves kindergarten.

Erik’s daughter started kindergarten this year as well, he was not here to see it. My son turns six this Friday.

The two events forever mingled in my mind.

Life goes on. All around us. As it should. As it will when we are gone. And through the sadness and the tears we remember. To strive for greatness. To be the best. To be beloved. To be remembered as amazing.

As inspirational.

As a person others hope to be like.

To live for the moment.

To love with everything we have.

*Sunrise Sunset.

After years of taping quilt batting to his face….

my new hobby (hurray it took this time!)produced this.

His dad calls it the bloody head wound hat..because he is five. But the Wizard himself requested the top to be red to match his hair.

The back is not as pretty. But I get confused, and he hasn’t noticed yet. shhh.

His brother requested one in brown, but boy it takes me a long time. And he get tired…

My funny Valentine-Ella Fitzgerald