Taking a mini break from blogging to focus on the girls.

Providing these ladies with a summer of adventures.

This may be the last one where we do not have a list a mile long of all the things that must be done- camps they have to attend or skills they must fine tune.

For now they are at the golden age where summer is best spent at the school yard shooting hoops or catching fireflies with their Momma on a cool evening.

Only 7 more weeks before the school doors open again.

Off to make sure each one is full of our own brand of adventure….

Tomorrow we will wake up early for a trip to Far and Away Farms where Sid will ride her pony and the girls, Brock and I will cheer her on.

We will come home covered in barn dust and cheerful from her well-earned ride to celebrate Father’s day at my house.

A cookout is on the agenda where the girls will “prepare” steak and asparagus while Brock and I ponder how quickly 9 years have flown by from that first Father’s Day spent with a ten month old toddling through the house on Hickory Valley Drive.

Being a Dad to three young ladies is a profoundly BIG job. Not that parenting all together isn’t big but there is something enormous about being given the privilege of shepherding three little ladies through this life.

Instilling in them a healthy dose of confidence and humbleness;

patience and assertiveness;

love of adventure in the bigger world but connective tissue that draws them home.

I am grateful my ladies have Brock.

I am grateful we can continue to parent together even though our marriage did not sustain.

Tomorrow there is joy.

Happy Father’s Day Brock.

Sometimes I can see it coming-  when I’m tired, I haven’t run and work feels larger than life.

I melt down.

Much like Ellie’s tantrum over my denial of her candy request before dinner. Except it’s not about the candy. No that’s just the tipping point for a day full of pent-up anguish and frustration.

And so it was last night. A long day of travel and work; no chance to run and my mind swirling, trying to put things in its place that just aren’t ready for placement.

So when at 10:30pm I found myself locked out of my hotel room, standing face to face with a repairman telling me it would take them “some time” to repair the door that would let me into the room that held the promise of  5 hours of sleep before my early morning flight, I lost it.

Tears welled up in my eyes, my shoulders shook and the flood gates opened.

That poor repairman. The women standing in front of him in her black power suit, iPhone dangling from her hand, hunched over and crying about a hotel room door?

And in that moment he looked at me and said-

“You look tired Miss. It’s written all over you. It’s ok to cry”.

With those words he gave me the grace to acknowledge its presence and to sit in it.

No shame, no embarrassment.

I would like to say the tears dried up quickly but in reality they sat with me until well past midnight. But, the door did open and the promise of now 4 hours of sleep and the light of a new day with kisses from little girls and Starbucks coffee by the liter did eventually make it better.

And that man has no idea this morning what gift he gave me.

Standing in front of room 1068 at the JW Marriot Hotel Washington DC, this stranger gave me the permission, the reminder, that it’s ok to fall apart. In the end it felt not just necessary but good……

Just running slightly behind schedule all week. Ready for a weekend where my soul can catch up with my body. A weekend on Kelley’s Island where God willing I will complete my 6th race of the year (a 10K around the Island).

My friend Robin shot some amazing photos of my little ladies and sent them my way last week. I cant help but stop and pause every few hours to stare and let their little faces ground me even when we are not together. As I looked at these again last night Kahil Gibran’s words popped into my head-

“Your children are not your children. They are the son’s and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you.”

Happy weekend!

A baby on my hip and two young girls racing ahead, I recall walking through this house the first time.

The layout, the flow, more than suitable for a family of 5 coming from an 1800 square foot house needing all 3000 feet this one had to offer.

What struck me that day was the three bedrooms and the bath on the 5th level; removed from the master suite on the 4th. After 7 years of babies in bassinets and toddlers crawling into beds we could finally have our own space.

So we moved in and I decorated the girls rooms in bright colors and made the upstairs bathroom a mini oasis for them. I hung a P. Buckley Moss print of three little girls in a clawfoot bathtub on the wall and we bestowed it “the girls bathroom”.

Almost 3 years later the upstairs bathroom (as I now have reverted back to calling it) is seldom used.

Sounds silly to wax melancholy for a bathroom but now that it stands empty I sometimes walk in and get teary eyed.

When  their dad moved out 7 months ago the girls slowly crept back into my bed and my bathroom.

At first it was just their tooth brushes that made the appearance and then before long their bath toys and towels followed suit.

It was just easier to have all of us in one place. Easier for the lone parent to bathe and swaddle those three little girls without  having to climb the extra flight of stairs.

And now I find that we live our lives in the footprint of three rooms- the master bathroom, my bedroom and our kitchen. This house with all of its square feet has shrunk into just 3 rooms.

Some day soon the girls will want their space back. The upstairs bathroom I will find full of the necessities of life with teenage girls. Curling irons, beauty products and wet towels on the floor will define it once again as “the girls bathroom”.

But for now, I bathe them in the cool gray tile of my sunken tub; I comb back their hair with my brush and I welcome their little arms at 1am when they decide that my bed will be their nest for the night.

So the week started out with this little girl getting rid of some metal on her mouth.

And then she headed to her very favorite place in the world, the barn, where her sisters sat in the trunk of the car and ate Cheez-It’s while she road to her hearts content.

On Wednesday I traveled to Long Island and into New Jersey to learn about how two different facilities care for children that are medically complex. A day spent learning from the best and seeing the most amazing kids. Both facilities were beyond impressive.

The Chapel at St. Mary’s Pediatric Facility on Long Island and the views from the patient rooms were breathtaking.

Thursday we all recovered from Wednesday and I was able to log some much needed city miles after work. Once upon a time I hated running in the city but I now find myself looking forward to warm nights running through German Village while others sit in rush hour traffic trying to head home.

We closed the book on another school year on Friday so that meant last day of school parties. Ellie suffered through them for the sake of her big sisters.

She was rewarded with a trip to Sweet and Sassy for our traditional end of school year/pre-vacation haircut.

On Monday we leave for Disneyworld so today will be the mad dash to get us ready as I have successfully put off doing anything to prepare us for this trip until today. There will be many stops for coffee and for donuts as I bribe them and myself to get through it.

Turning the page to a new week and looking forward to new adventures.

She didn’t sign up to do this alone.

And she never planned to miss nights singing babies to sleep.

This girl here dreamed of a house full of children and a life filled by moments with a man who adored her.

She didn’t anticipate a life without a prince.

But, life doesn’t turn out how we planned when we are seven.

Wings are grown and dreams take flight.

Winds take us in different directions.

Babies sleep away from their mom and the young girl who thought she had it all realizes that she still does; it’s just turned out differently then she planned.

So after a day full of work and school,

play and activities;

she will sing them lullabies and listen to their breathe as they drift off.

Tomorrow they will sleep without her.

But on Sunday afternoon when they are back in her arms again and she returns to the rhythm of mothering, she will relish the moments apart and together.

No life does not turn out how we expect

but adapting to its changing rhythms is truly how we experience its magic.

Yesterday afternoon I fell down a flight of stairs.

My big toe kinda, sorta, hurt alot.

Last night the girls were with their Dad so I could not pass up the chance to run in 80 degree weather.

I came back to my office after three miles to find my big toe was now really, really big and really black and blue.

The rest of the night was spent at urgent care where they x-rayed and gave the verdict of a torn ligament.

I came home to the girls full of oohs and aahs over the ugliness of my toe.

They couldn’t believe I ran on it. They wondered why I was so stubborn to keep running when it hurt.

It was in that moment that I thought of my mom. Truly, honestly, one of the most stubborn, bull-headed women you will ever meet.

She lives her life determined.

Life gets rough. Life gets hard. You have choices to make. Do you sit in the pain or do you move through it?

It’s hard to teach that lesson. Your kids have to watch it, see it lived to absorb the example.

Her lifetime of never giving up- on me, my brothers, my Dad and even herself.

One of my most vivid memories from childhood is my mom sitting at the dining room table.

Papers sprawled all around her, typewriter at her fingertips.

I was maybe 8 or 9, my brothers 5 and 11. My dad a full-time job at the hospital and his military life on the side.

There she sat amid the chaos of raising a family and supporting a husband, writing her masters thesis on the AIDS epidemic in Africa.

Hundreds of pages of notes. Hours and hours of research all done while kids in school or husband at the office.

Her masters born out of sheer determination because she wanted it. She needed it for herself.

She would hate me writing this post.

I may never share it with her because the “mushy stuff” does not come as easily to her.

I will tell her tonight though that watching her live her life has been the most amazing example.

And that loving her has taught me how to  push on and to love myself…..

When I reflect on the week that has passed, I am awed by this life that I have been given.

The last 7 days have been pure awesomeness.

From visits with friends,

to races on the road and at home,

events that are beautiful perks of my job,

and evenings spent cuddling little girls.

All of these moments have measured up to one remarkable week.

Looking forward to seeing what next week has in store…..

Tomorrow I am running 13.1 miles for one more time over the course of seven days. The Capitol City Half is on the agenda.

My weekend in Rochester for the Flower City Half was remarkable. Every moment of my time with the Johnson family was absolutely perfect- pre race pasta dinner out; race day filled with images of little boys, their dad and their grandparents cheering us on throughout the course; clay shooting in the afternoon; chiropractor visit (Thanks Lindsay!!) and an evening on the couch, ice packs on hips while Matt made dinner and the ladies drank wine. Yep it was perfection!!

Tomorrow will be different but no less gratifying.

I will hop in my car for a quick ride downtown and I will join over 14,000 runners (dear lord help me with my claustrophobia) for a run through my adopted hometown.

I know I won’t run my personal best, my 36 year old body is not completely recovered from Sunday, but I know it will be the perfect book end to an amazing 7 days.

Tomorrow’s run I will dedicate to my dad.

13.1 miles with him on my mind.

When I hit mile 10 and the pain in my hips sets in I have no doubt the images of him floating through my head will push me those last 3 miles.

And when I cross that finish line, instead of my dad standing there (arms crossed, massive grin on his face) I will have three little girls jumping up and down telling me what I always longed for him to say-

“I am so proud of you”.

Tomorrow I will lean into it.