Irritations, an epiphany, and my Happy Place

Monday afternoon brought Karissa home after riding (thank you Heather a million times over.) As we did the ritualistic checking through the book bag, there was the weekly newsletter from her teacher. The Art Show, a Spring Creek institution and a huge undertaking, is next week. At this point she has ONE, count 'em, ONE volunteer to help her set up the class displays for the Art Show. Of course, my first reaction is one of guilt. While I did not help set up for the Art Show in Kindergarten as there was a bumper crop of kinder mommies, I put in plenty of time in First and Second grade, largely with Monika Baker. But her kids are in the other class and I can't help.

As I rolled around in my brain how I could help her, a little voice started to poke at me. Wait a minute. There are thirty students in that class. That implies sixty parents, plus grand parents, aunts, uncles, older siblings, etc. Out of all this wide selection, only ONE could volunteer? When I reflect on events like the Art Show, each grade level usually has the same couple of volunteers that do every event. You may see the rest of the adults the night of (or not), but not there setting up or taking down.

I don't know why, after years on the PTO, that this would be a revelation to me. I was one of those no show parents for all of Karina's academic career as I had my own classroom to set up or tear down, and then one medical malady after another through middle school. I did manage to do some service at the high school level. I understand jobs, littler siblings, illness and other commitments. But there is no way this accounts for all of these adults. This is the same class, even same teacher, where there were kinder mommies vying for time just a few years ago. If the level of apathy has reached this level already at third grade, what does the future hold?

Some one once said to me, "Ten percent of the people do ninety percent of the work." I guess that is truer than I thought.

As I was up and down last night my mind wandered with me. At my four am, "OH MY G-D I need Magic Mouth wash trek," I had an epiphany. I have a had a few of these in my life. A few times when the universe whispered in my ear and told me something so that I knew it to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt. Sometimes it is good, sometimes it is not good. This time, it was about exercise.

When I was an overweight teen, at a time when that was an uncommon thing, my weight made me miserable. My weight wasn't my only issue, and to say that it was entirely my fault, that would be an exaggeration. However, I never exercised on a regular basis, played a sport, or anything of that sort. Granted my build made many exercises a challenge, but we all have to find our place.

My first year of college I was in the best shape of my life. Marching up and down the hill to band practice four days a week, plus said practice, plus walking everywhere, PLUS climbing up the stairs to the fourth floor of Juniper Hall multiple times a day will do that for you. However, offset that with a crap diet from the dinning commons and the not low calorie alcohol I might have been partaking of prevented me from really slimming down.

Once I moved on from college, I reached the weight I swore I'd never get up to. I worked swing shift and ate crap from the mini-mart. Exercise never even entered my mind. Finally, when I reached my heaviest ever, I decided to DO something. I stopped eating all fats, eating only non-fat crap. I kissed my gallbladder good bye years later thanks to that strategy. But it worked, and I lost twenty-five pounds. And guess what? Got pregnant.

My weight continued to swing all over. After my divorce I threw myself into weight lifting with no guidance and no offsetting aerobic exercise. I lost weight, toned up, and, my blood pressure went through the roof.

All this time, any type of consistent daily exercise was missing. No regular walking program, or swim club. I was the weekend warrior, laboring from dawn to dusk, but sitting on my rear during the week. Grading papers, paying bills, folding laundry.

Now my weight was the obvious symptom, but the hidden one was stress. I had no outlet for stress. No way to let it out. I absorbed it into my very cells.

Moving to Las Vegas exploded my stress levels. The perfect storm of stress, stress, and more stress. No outlet. No exercise. Now, move to Eugene and set up housekeeping where you know no one, and get everything situated while Kelly goes back to Vegas. No job. Two houses. Bills piling up. Congenital heart defect. Atypical cells in the tongue. And there you go.

My epiphany is that I have to have a stress outlet. I have to move in a purposeful way everyday. It is even more crucial now as I don't have talking as an outlet. The voice very clearly said this will  be the key to how my future plays out.

I've never been too quick on the uptake (hmmm... Kelly and I took twenty years to figure it out.) But now I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. Of course, swim club is off the list...

And finally, my happy place.

Today I saw magic Mia. Again a hearty thank you to those of you who have chipped in to give the gift of pain relief. I was explaining to her about the lovely experience of having wound care scrape the rotting duo-derm out from under my trach after port placement. She said, "That must have been awful. How did you bear it?"
"The same way I bear anything, I went to my happy place."

She said, "That must  be one big-ass Happy Place. Can you draw it for me?"

I have many skills, and I have skills I wish I had. Drawing falls in the latter category. I'm sure I could draw something, but it would less resemble my happy place and more resemble and accident at the Crayola factory.

My happy place is:
- in my husband's arms
-holding my child's hand
-seeing my kids try something for the first time
-sitting quietly in the evening and listening to the frogs
-digging in the dirt
-watching chicken television
-telling a story and hearing the laughter of the listeners
-playing games with friends
-talking with a friend
-standing over a boiling jam pot
-looking at jars of food I have canned
-watching a sleeping child
-holding a baby
-hearing "I love you"
-feeling the touch of a loved one
-working with a friend
-giving advice (yes, I am a Yenta)
-a hot shower
-a foot massage
-harvesting in the fall
-finishing a Saturday Times crossword with Kelly
-seeing beautiful flowers and plants, especially pumpkins and sunflowers
-Great Basin National Park
-thousands of memories of good times with friends and loved ones

Yes, my happy place is pretty darn big.

Free piece of advice for tonight:  be thankful for breathing through your nose and mouth. Hacking stuff straight out of your lungs is no fun:)

Until tomorrow,
Kiara