This Is It!

Twelve days ago I interviewed for the chance to become a teacher at the local school. There are 4 spots open, and I am qualified for each, but 110 people applied and only 20 interviews were even granted. It will be announced at some point this week (as early as yesterday) if I am still in the running. I figure I will hear today  if it is good news and not until Friday if it is not (as the pool will be narrowed down again for a quick meeting with the superintendent before Friday, and then the final selection made). I tell myself that I have already made it further than 90 applicants that didn't even get interviews, and that I only have to be better than 17 other interviewees for a position. My heart has been ALL over the place about whether or not I even want to teach, and my prayers have been frequent and fervent, tirelessly asking God that I just get the opportunity to do what it is I should do, promising I will no longer doubt or argue.

I am on edge today again, my stomach tied in knots, hoping for a call, or not...hoping for a path to follow. Plan A has me teaching again, and plan B has me entering counseling school to become a school counselor (a great program I have already been accepted to), but also (and as a back-up) a licensed professional counselor.  If you had asked me a week ago which one I wanted, I would have said B, hands down. That I was a good teacher, but I felt compelled to do something else and to further help people. The last few days though I have been hoping to have the opportunity to teach again. I know that I can apply elsewhere, but this is the place I'd want to work if I did teach again because of how close it is to home (15 minutes if that). 

OR

By Friday for sure I will know which path I am on, or maybe God will present a path C (that'd be just like Him, right?) that I am unaware of even now as I write. I know that I can do either, accept either at this point, but a month ago when I first heard about this job, Barrett and I (and TONS of prayer) decided that THIS would be it, the deciding factor. Sometimes a person needs that desperately, that cut-off point to stop doubting everything and just start living. I am so thankful to my sweet husband that has believed in and supported any future that just involves me, no matter what I do. I know at times our desires for stuff have gotten in the way as we planned for the future things we want (RV, boat, international travel..., lol). 

Friday is only two days yet a lifetime away from now. Please keep us in your prayers as we wait for the call (or lack of one) that will determine things for our family. 

After Happily Ever After

This post has been swirling around my mind the last few days. Most women (though I'm sure not all) love romance. We plow through romance novels, sigh at happy romantic endings in movies, and secretly long for that kind of romance in our lives. If you look up the term romance, you will find that it is both a noun, "a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love" and a verb "to court or woo."  Almost every fairy tale ends with romance in the form of and they lived happily ever after.  Surely you have noticed that the story always ends there, right? No one tells you what happens after the couple rides off into the sunset. I mean, they have to stop somewhere. The horse must tire out. And at some point that fairy-tale couple has to fall into what I imagine every married couple on earth falls into at some degree: the after the happily ever after. Imagine with me if you will Prince Charming after the newlywed bliss wears off. Maybe he is living grandly in a castle, but does he fall into the married man (and woman) trap of monotony, daily chores, and (gasp!) passing gas in front of the love of his life?? Surely not....right? Perhaps this is why we are left in stories to imagine our own happily ever after, one that is never sullied by, do I dare say, reality.

Now, I am both an avid reader and movie watcher. And...a romantic in the worst way. Nothing makes my heart stop like those books where the gorgeous male hero utters his undying love (over and over again mind you) for the girl that he would move Heaven and Earth for. It must also be said that my favorite stories always contain a magical realm of some sort. Yes, think Twilight, though NO, it is not my favorite as there are FAR better books written by much lesser known authors. I love books that involve faeries, immortals, and anything else supernatural. For someone with my personality, I will admit that I often look at life and wonder why this is all there is?  I don't mean any sacrilege here, I really don't. I am amazed at many things that exist in Creation...however, my admission borders in the thoughts that manifest themselves often in my imagination. Why aren't there any faeries hiding in the wooded area behind my house? No centaurs, vampires,  mermaids, and other wonderful creatures that grace story after countless story. I mean, they should exist, I think.  I am sure that I sound immature, but as an aside here, have you ever noticed how much MORE fun being a child was than being an adult? Just sayin'. 

But back to romance. Does it last? Or is it only meant for fiction? Perhaps part of this can be based on how we each, individually, classify romance. What is romantic to me, may not be to you and vice versa. For example, a man proposing to his love on the big screen at some huge sporting event? Not my thing at all...but perhaps yours. I wish desperately that what I equated with romance was different. Perhaps my expectations are just too high. This is in no means my way of saying that my own husband lacks in the romance department, though I will say that just about every man (in real life that is) could use some gentle prodding (or for some, some glaringly obvious reminders) of what their woman wants. Nothing says romance to me than over-the-top gestures. A surprise trip he has already packed me for. A black, velvet box with plane tickets to a faraway place, a love letter given to me under the stars. Barrett, hope you're taking notes! I realize that unfortunately to many, especially to people like me, romance and money kind of have to go hand in hand. Who doesn't want a night filled with a fancy gown, fancy food, breathtaking view, and her man's unwavering attention? If you don't, more power to ya. I do. 

Maybe romance has to be found in the small things. I maybe cook breakfast once a week, because B takes care of it almost daily. He also makes my coffee just how I like it. He texts and/or emails me throughout the day about everything from his love for me to funny stories in the news I might like. He washes my hair for me. Barrett would not call himself romantic, and admittedly there have been many times that I had wished for romance that were anything but..., but he does have the market on everyday kind of love. One time, we were camping and had gone riding in the ATV off some trail, and we had sat down in the woods. No-one but us. Barrett told me what he imagined in the future, wanting to retire in Central Oregon someday. It was very romantic, had I not been entirely too sure of myself that this was where and when he was going to propose, every nerve in me on edge as he spoke. But that was not what happened. It would be months later after me pretty much asking him where in the world we were headed, that I would have my wish of being engaged...completely sans proposal at all. It's ok....my first husband asked me over the phone. I have a knack for being a romantic who picks men that aren't. 

If you, like me, could use a hard-core does of romance that seems to exist only in fairy tales, perhaps you can share some of my ideas/links below with your other half. Not ALL are expensive; some cost nothing. Romance can exist. I really want it to, as I am sure some of you do too. I made a mental list of some of the most romantic things that have ever happened to me, and included the ideas below. Feel free to re-create, as well as some sites with GREAT ideas (just leave open on your laptop for your husband).  I will not divulge which man planned the romantic things, so your mind can wander all on its own to all the men I ever dated (or married! lol).

And note to the guys, YES, it is up to us to be romantic too. I am sorry it seems to all fall on you, but we NEED this, so please, for the sake of your woman, just man-up and go all out for her. :)

• I came home from work to "our" song playing and being serenaded as we danced in the kitchen.
• A surprise of swimsuits and beachwear for a vacation that we were going to take.
• A trail of goodies on the stairs to flowers and dinner.
• A moonlit walk in the park.
• Night swimming.
• An impromptu photo shoot at railroad tracks out in the country, where I was the subject and he the photographer.
• A picnic on the roof of a school library under the stars.
• A date of wine and fancy cheeses. 
• A day on the lake all alone.
• A night spent under the stars, watching meteors.
• A casual trip to the fish hatchery in the rain.
• Love letters. Lots of them.
• A surprise of a "sick" day spent together.
• A surprise anniversary trip.

Check out Romantic Ideas to Make Your Lover Melt. I LOVE #12, #15, and #17. 

And I LOVE these ideas!!! 40+ Creative Romantic Ideas. Seriously...bookmark it. Can we say YES to some of the ideas on page 2, like "Take your lover on a surprise two-week vacation to Paris." Yes, please, with cherries and a happy wife on top. :)

Here's to Happily Ever After lasting.

Happy Place Found

Right now, at this very moment I am in my happy place. Ever feel that way? Everything is just the way you want it to be or pretty darn close? This afternoon I feel reflective, so much better than I have felt the past few days. My tailbone is healing and I am beginning to feel normal, but it is so much more than that. Right now I have banana bread muffins in the oven, and the house smells delicious. I have two boys that I am SO proud to call my sons that make me laugh, cry and everything in between. I am just amazed at how far they have both come, how resilient they both are, and how just plain AWESOME they are. I am preparing spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, and Barrett and I have finally found a Moscato worth talking about again that we can share a leisurely glass of. Though my love is still at the office, I know that at 5:30 he will be in my arms, and we will have the rest of the night together. The dog lays at my feet as I cook and the cat curled on the couch, and the rain pouring down outside. This is happiness. 

I am not sure what tomorrow will bring, or next month, or next year, but if I could I would bottle this feeling.

Aimless Leaf in the Wind

As a form of therapy I write this blog post today. I am not sure where it is headed, but I know that I need to write. The past few days every time I find that I am at peace and have time to think to myself, I feel nothing. I feel completely ambivalent, like it doesn't really matter what happens at this point. I really, really don't like that feeling. I am such a passionate person (especially when it comes to my quiet thought time), that the lack of care means that something is wrong. I have long considered apathy as one of the worst possible feelings. I'd prefer that people like me and that I make them happy, but I will take them disliking me and me making them mad then no feeling at all. I feel the same way about art, writing, and film. If it makes me FEEL something, then the creator has done their job. If it doesn't, then the piece is no good. The only thing I feel right now, an oxymoron in itself, is apathy.

What is the root of this feeling or lack thereof? I am pretty sure I feel this way because I feel as though I have no free will. I feel like a leaf drifting in the wind, no idea of where I may land. A few months ago I was elated that I was accepted into a counseling program. I can totally see myself as a counselor, and it just seemed like the best plan. Take my degrees in psychology and education, and put them together for school counseling, and it was a very logical step. Perhaps it was impatience. August is SO far away (it feels like). Perhaps it was greed (more money is always nice, right? It equals new clothes, and trips, and things galore!). About a month ago I got the nagging feeling that maybe I should apply for a teaching job. After all, though the job lookout forecast for counseling in a few years (when I'd be licensed) seems good, I have no REAL idea about the job market, and what if it isn't good? What if I go into more debt with student loans (the bane of most college grad's existences) and cannot find a good job after? These are fears, but feasible fears nonetheless, right?  I liked the path. I especially liked the getting to focus on the kids, the home, and my studies part. I truly am not a lazy person, not at all. But the thought of no work until finishing was refreshing-especially since this was part of the deal I'd struck with nursing...being a graduate counseling student is not any less respectable...right? Right? Okay, maybe I need reassurance. I could SEE myself as a counselor, and maybe not even in a school, maybe in my very own office someday decorated the way I want, seeing my own clients (the grad program is for both after all). That was all very appealing. Even the classes were appealing. BUT...I opened my mouth. I worried about job security. I worried about money. We do fine, but I complained that there are no new things, and activities can be somewhat limited. Like, big deal, right? My husband actually does great, and that was not the best thought for me to have. Stay-at-home mamas out there, feel free to virtually slap me for that complaint (just reach right through the monitor). In hindsight I do get how totally ungrateful and shallow that sounds, just remember that until this past year, I had always been in the workforce. And B will make noises about how nice things will be when we are both working again. I know I have his support, but I also know he has sacrificed a lot for me to change my mind multiple times too.

So I applied for 19 teaching jobs. It is a flooded job market I hear. I have heard from one. The one that if I were to want any this would be it. I got chosen to interview out of over 70 applicants and only 20 interviewees. I did well. I think. Though I will not know until next week at the earliest. And I have mixed feelings. Part of me wants the job, and part of me does not. I made a deal with God (though I'm not sure He ever agreed to this), and prayed for the last month for a sign. I prayed that if I am meant to teach I will get this job. Counseling means a wonderful, relaxing summer with my kids. Teaching means a harried dash to set up the perfect room, and a bundle of frayed nerves to boot. I am noise sensitive. Did I ever mention that? I get REALLY grumpy when things get too loud...but I digress...kind of. I was a good teacher, so it would be okay right? I enjoyed it usually. Though there are some things I could never do again and that'd be alright by me-but all jobs are like that. So now I wait. I wait for the decision that will change everything. I will NOT go to school and work again-it was not good for my family, and I've been there, done that. If I teach, that will be my career. I will teach. If I don't get the job, I will continue pursuing counseling. I can't wait to know. I think I will be sad if I don't get the job, but relieved as well, and okay with it, maybe happy  if I do? People say I was a natural teacher. I wish I knew. I know lots of people have prayed for me to get the job, but instead...maybe you could just pray that God's will be done? And know that I appreciate the prayers regardless.  I am so tired of trying to find my perfect calling. I just need the wind to carry this little leaf and lay it down somewhere ..perhaps put a stone on top of it so it can't flutter anywhere new, and rest.

The Raw Truth About Marriage & Family?

I went downstairs to hang up my robe, and saw a messed up bed that had just been made. Why? Because the dog had hid his bone under Barrett's pillows. I laughed to myself. I looked around and saw a (mostly) clean room. And I was happy, content, pleased with my life. My little bathtub boy is drawing on the tub with bath crayons while I am nearby (to hear him yet give him privacy). Has it ever occurred to you just how much you can know about a family by seeing their home on a given day? This thought has been in my mind lately.

If you were to walk into my home, yes, you would see order and general cleanliness (because I am kind of a control freak about that), but you would also see dog hair from our (usually) beloved German Sheperd, Max who is almost 1, and yeah...sheds like crazy. You'd see our Tuxedo kitty, Clarissa napping somewhere or imperiously meowing for attention or food. (If it is possible for a cat to have a bitchy meow, ours has the market on this!). One night B and I were laying in bed, wondering where Clarissa had gone (she is indoor/outdoor), and lo and behold she appeared (THUMP!), sticking like Velcro to our bedroom window screen, and meowing very maddeningly to be let in. But I digress... You would see the fridge covered not only in artwork and sticky finger marks, but sports schedules, school event flyers and lunch menus. You would see notes everywhere. Sticky notes to remind me of things to do, a whiteboard on the fridge declaring both "Barrett James you are loved beyond words.." and another saying "Clean out boys' dresser drawers!" Perhaps you'd find a note on Matt's bed saying "Please clean out your backpack, Love Mom."  Oh, and don't forget the love note on our bathroom mirror in red lipstick. It changes every few weeks. :) You would also see artwork hanging in the hallway, and photographs all over the house. Family pictures, silly pictures, digital picture frames. You would see TONS of books, and many movies, fresh flowers on the counter top from outside, flavored coffee and gun magazines from my dear husband.  You might find my treasured Mother's Day earrings on my dresser if not in my ears, and an outfit for the next day hanging up by my vanity area.  You would see a Betta fish in both kids' rooms. In Matt's room you'd find sports paraphernalia, soccer cleats, baseball hat, mitt, etc, and in Isaiah's a mess. Zay is my tornado, and I can't predict what I will find going on in his room on a daily basis. Perhaps dress-up capes and masks to be various superheroes or a block tower...or every book off the shelf. 

I have a point, I really do. The other day I watched a movie Friends With Kids (Cute, but very adult humor, so if language and sexual jokes bother you...skip this one), and I was honestly saddened by the portrayal of what "real" marriages with kids look like. Chaotic homes full of anger and resentment, unhappy spouses, constant disarray. This is how most families are portrayed...right? Watch a comedy about families and you will see the sex-starved husband (I always feel SO sorry for them...ladies, once a month is never acceptable!!! Just sayin'), messy house, and wild kids...oh, and overwhelmed wife. I know that my kids are now past the infant years, past the toddler years and now even past preschool years (Zay starts kinder in the Fall). Surely our life wasn't like THAT, was it? If I am perfectly honest with myself, I remember from my previous marriage times that honestly, well, sucked. And many were indeed related to kids. I remember feeling so sleep-deprived after Matthew that I thought infancy was a sick joke. It's like a slow form of torture for prisoners of war. Sleep? Yeah, right. A few hours a night at best. Pretty sure I hated EVERYONE at that point in my life, lol. I remember the sheer overwhelmingness (is that a word?) of Matt being a toddler and Zay being a baby. I distinctly remember sitting on their bedroom floor having a meltdown...just wanting to leave the house for awhile by myself. I remember resenting my ex when I felt I wasn't getting enough help. And I wonder...perhaps the movies are more accurate than we would all like to admit??

Articles abound about kids sucking the happiness right out of relationships. Here is an example: Does Having Kids Make You Less Happy?  and another Why Parents Hate Parenting (long post, but fascinating). I write all this to pose a hypothetical question if you will: Is happiness what we make of it? I fully admit to some really rough times in the past, but they did pass. It didn't seem fast then, but now it seems like the blink of an eye.   I spend 5-6 days a week watching one boy or the other play sports now. My butt spends hours of time in our lawn chairs that live in my trunk. But you know what? There is nowhere else I would rather be (except Mexico maybe...but really people, who wouldn't?). And I think on perhaps the most valuable statement in the silly movie I watched about marriage...you choose the person you want to be with during the worst of things, and then, even those aren't so bad. My marriage could not have recovered from the black things that grew up in it...but maybe yours can? Maybe you are just coming out of the other side of infancy, or toddler-hood ..or another difficult stage. Cling to what you have. I know I do now.  And we make the BEST of this life we have been given, with every birthday party, every soccer game, every baseball practice, and every stolen kiss. Every one. 

So, look around you. What does your home reveal about you? It is never too late to "redecorate". 

You Broke Your What?

Last week my tumble down the stairs did quite the number on me. After a week of pain (I know, I know), I finally went and saw my doctor (actually I see a nurse practicioner, but she was out so I saw the doctor). He made me do strength and balance tests to make sure my nerve and muscle functions were still intact (they are thankfully!), and I had four x-rays. One of the only ways to pinpoint the pain and manipulate the coccyx (or tailbone), is a rectal exam. Yeah. This was not a fun day. At all. The x-rays were indeterminate, and I was told to expect a call the next day. Yesterday the doctor called to tell me that yes, they are almost positive that I fractured my coccyx.

Or...as the boys like to tell me, I broke my bum!

Now, I have heard all kinds of happy (not) stories of people in pain for years...yes, years with these types of injuries. The doctor says 1-2 months of pain, and here is a pain prescription. Yay.  I could tell he felt bad for A) totally invading my privacy (but it wasn't like he wanted to!), and B) Having to give me the great news of "there isn't really much that can fix this but time." So now, I am just supposed to avoid things that hurt. Ummm...okay. Do you have any idea how many muscles and ligaments attach here? I have included an illustration below (sorry, I LOVE anatomy!).

Things like sitting, rolling over in bed, raising my legs too high, coughing, and sneezing (yeah that one KILLS) hurt. So, if you have ever experienced this injury, I am sorry. It is not fun. And if you haven't but are curious, you can read about it here: Tailbone Injury

Why Divorce Made Me a Better Person

I do not advocate for divorce, I truly don't...but in my case I think that my divorce made me a better person. I am a better mother and a better wife these days than ever before. Sometimes I feel guilty about that. I see my ex with his wife and family and me with mine, and we both seem to be doing great...and I wonder why it is that life works that way. But I don't miss my old life at all. I am blessed now with a larger family that includes his wife, her daughter, their daughter, my husband, and our boys. Strange at times? Yes, but it gets less and less so and more what is normal for us. I am glad that we can attend sport's games, BBQ's and school events as an entire unit, and I hope that it teaches Matthew and Isaiah that we all love them very much. I actually asked Matt the other night very gently, if he was ever angry that his dad and I split up. His answer, "No...not really. I wouldn't have had Barrett, Heidi, and my sisters if you hadn't."  He also acknowledged that both his dad and I seemed happy and that he rarely hears Barrett and I argue about anything (a huge change from my first marriage!). Wow. Maybe we are doing something right? 

In my first marriage I was very lonely, and I knew that (for me) being with my spouse daily for quality time was very important. I used to fill the void with school, work, and shopping (yeah...). Barrett and I have been accused of being "attached at the hip" a few times, and though we indeed can separate when necessary and for events where the other isn't quite welcome (like a baby shower for example, lol)-we choose to be together almost every time we can. We choose to attend the boys' games and practices together when we can, to run errands together, relax together and even to do one another's hobbies together (even if they aren't our favorite!) because we love being in one another's company. Though I would love to say that every problem imaginable in my first marriage was not my fault, some definitely were. I had a very hard time apologizing when I did things wrong (which does happen occasionally!). I can now apologize to Barrett and even (gasp!) drop an argument when I realize it just isn't that important. I also have learned that me having a strong opinion on every little thing does not matter, nor is it helpful. There are things we are each experts in, and while an opinion is good, it is important to submit to the other when they simply know more about it.   This goes for little things and big ones. Barrett is a man of logic, and he will research something for days on end. When it comes to purchasing a vehicle, a computer, or lawnmower, or even a saw...this is his department.  Barrett takes better care than I at managing the household finances (though we recently decided to both be involved). I, on the other hand, am the one that has an eye for decorating. I decide paint colors, furniture and the like. I also can research the heck out of vacations, so I plan out trips and run them by B for approval. Perhaps there was a lot of mismatched personality going on my first time around! 

My children are adored by me, and they enjoy a close relationship with many adults. Before I got divorced, I relied heavily on my parents to let me escape. I still rely on them when I need to get something done, but not like before. Because of the constant time together, I am closer to both boys, and we do many things as a family. Barrett and I take them camping, riding, on small trips like to the aquarium or out  to eat often, and I do projects with them at home, and they help Barrett outside. The boys are with us (with the exception of any overnighting with my parents) 12 days in a row before going back to their dad each cycle. This is a lot of getting ready for school, meals, and time. I will freely admit (and I know many parents don't have this "luxury") that by the end of those 12 days I am ready for a break! I know that many parents go through this too, where a day seems incessantly LONG, full of hours to fill, and the small voice saying "Hey Mama-" is like long fingernails screeching down a chalkboard.

The good thing is that at the end of 12 days I get to refresh for two, and then start all over again. It's like a mini-vacation. Barrett and I date, and enjoy being a couple without children. This weekend it is Iron Man 3 and dinner tonight, and then breakfast at a cafe, soccer games, bike window shopping for me, Matt's school BBQ with our other parenting half and boys, then wine and stargazing. Sunday is church, luncheon after service, and roofing chicken coop. At least that's the plan. 

So, while divorce is not the answer, maybe you can learn a few important lessons from my mistakes and successes. Spend lots of time with your spouse. Quality matters...but so does QUANTITY. Same goes with your children. Sometimes the best conversations occur while trapped in the car on the way to the grocery store. Get breaks when you need them. Take time to refresh, whether it is a whole weekend, a few hours, or a long bubble bath. You will be a better parent because of it. Know your strengths and your weaknesses. Also know your partner's. In a great relationship, you will fill in one another's gaps. Finally, learn to be humble and apologize when you know you're wrong, but also learn to drop it even when you are right...because tomorrow is based on the decisions we make today.

Get Back Up Again

Monday afternoon, while I was talking on the phone to Barrett, I headed downstairs to go outside and see the sunshine. While on the second stair down, Max (our wonder dog) brushed past me. The next thing I know I was in the air, landed on the next stair down right on my tailbone, then somehow sprung forward and landed flat on my belly and face in the entryway by the front door. The phone had gone flying out of my hand and hit the wall, and poor, worried Barrett could hear me sobbing loudly. Boy that hurt!!! One second I was chatting happily, and the next I was on the ground.  I insisted I was okay, though in pain, and less than an hour later was headed to baseball practice with Matthew. I still hurt. Today is Wednesday, and I am eating Ibuprofen every four hours, which makes me feel slightly better. It hurts to bend, to stand-up, to sit-down, to get in and out of cars...you know, all the normal daily things we do and never think about. Once I am standing or sitting or even driving I feel okay, but all the transitional movements hurt. I had signed up to volunteer both Monday and Tuesday at the Pregnancy Center, and I was not about to miss that. Though it was slow, I am glad I was there yesterday to take a few calls, and to be one of a handful of staff to speak to a very nervous, very scared, pregnant girl. I am thinking of her today, and the way that her life will change, and hoping that she felt support yesterday no matter what she decides to do.

Last night I was so antsy. Why is it that when we feel fine, we want to sit on the couch and when we hurt we are antsy to move? I wanted to go for a bike ride (more about that in a minute) or go rollerblading-both terrible ideas with the fact that my movement is painful and somewhat limited! I convinced Barrett to go with me and the kids to the park after dinner where we could walk and they could ride bikes. It was very nice, though it may have contributed to even more soreness today. Tonight there is baseball practice, tomorrow a field-trip with Matt's class, and tomorrow night soccer practice. Thank God Isaiah's swimming lessons begin next week! I am so thankful I only got hurt in the way I did, with falling down basically the entire flight of stairs, it could be so much worse. I am reminded not to take little activities I can normally do for granted, and I am also a tad bit annoyed as I think I don't have time for this! :)

I promised I'd come back to the bike thing. I am going to sound like a complete weirdo, but I have HATED bicycles since I was about 12. I learned to ride late as it was. I think I was 9 when I was finally riding with no training wheels. I am a control freak, with perhaps too much self-preservation instincts. When I was about 12 I was visiting family in Oregon and borrowed my cousin's bike, which was not only too short for me at the time, but also had no handle brakes, and I went riding down this big hill. I accumulated a ton of speed, panicked and could not stop...so I stuck my toes (wearing flip-flops) out to break the impending fall. I scraped a chunk of my big toe off, both palms of my hands, my chin, my knee and my elbow. I didn't break anything (never have), but I still have scars in two places from the accident. I think it was about 14 years until I got back on a bike. They terrified me. My ex-husband bought me a brand-new bike when I was about 26, and coaxed me to ride up and down our street. I did, but I shook with fear the whole time, wobbling around, and gripping the handles so tight I thought I would have permanent imprints on my palms. Barrett is a kind, gentle and patient teacher, and he was able to persuade me to ride down to the stop sign and back once from our house last year. We took my bike camping, and were surprised when we got there that it had two flat tires and the brakes were detaching. It looked like it had been sabotaged! And I promise I didn't do it. Somewhat relieved and somewhat annoyed, I got on Matthew's bike. And I was able to ride it around camp again and again, though obviously too small for me. I was no longer nervous!! The boys cheered me on, and I felt silly but glad to act out what I tell them-Get back up and try again. Then it dawned on Barrett and I one of the problems I felt with my bike-it was too tall for me. I am only 5'2 1/2 tall, and the bike is 26 inches, and I can only touch the ground, barely, on tiptoe. I know some people like that, but for me, it is scary that I am too far up. I thought I was the only freak that felt this way until I started reading posts online from short girls like me, saying that they are most comfortable on 24 inch wheel bikes, and many have even gone to bike shops (instead of just Target) and gotten fitted for a bike they are comfortable on. I am so relieved! Perhaps when I am healed up, I can actually begin (at the age of 31!!) to enjoy riding a bike and can do it with my family. :) Feel free to laugh at my fear..it's ok, but let me remind you that we all have fears that may seem silly to others, but are often grounded in something that matters to us. 

Was so afraid this would be the only type of bicycle I'd ever like!

Anyhow, I better get my day on a roll. Keep me in your prayers that I recover soon and can enjoy many active things with the boys and Barrett.