And now I’m paying for it with the OneHundredAndHolyHellIAteAToddler! number on the scale.

Last November I starting attending fitness classes at our incredible community rec center with a friend. I went several times (even on Saturday mornings!) and then signed up for a healthy living challenge class that started in January. Love the class, and have only missed a couple because of illness or being out of town. But I’ve stopped going to the group fitness classes. I really don’t like them, though I do enjoy the endorphin kick that hits me a little while later. I have, however, been taking a group weights class as well (offered cheap to free for those of us in the challenge class), and am loving the heck out of lifting weights.

Let’s review.

Hate group fitness classes.

Hate the treadmill/elliptical/stairmaster machines.

Love lifting weights.

Love yoga.

Love walking/running (oh, did I mention I signed up for a Training for a 10k class?) on the running track.

Anyone see any kind of correlation with that list? Anyone? You in the back, drooling onto your planner? No?

Control.

See, I’m a raging wee bit of a Control freak. Yes, this is the BFF of Perfectionism (the bitch), but I’ve already vamped on her, so today it’s Control. I’m a freaky Control freak, though. I only CF on myself, very rarely on others. Same with Perfectionism (see, this post wouldn’t be Perfect if I didn’t keep mentioning Perfectionism and her attempted Control over my life…sigh…).

Fitness classes, moving machines…I’m not in Control of the workout. Someone or something else is. Plus, I really hate feeling like a hamster on a wheel when I’m on a treadmill. Yoga, lifting weights, running track…I’m in Control. I may take a yoga class, but the teacher I have (and I love her) insists we do what we are able to do, and thus I’m back in Control.

I doubt I’ll go to many more fitness classes; they’re really not my style. And I just can’t get over that hamster wheel thing. So you’ll find me blissing out in yoga, lapping you on the running track, and adding more weight every week in the weight room.

Because some Control is good.

Dear Virus From Hell That Seems To Have Taken Up Permanent Residence In My Body,
You’re not welcome here. It’s been ten days; either knock me out cold for a few days or leave. This dragging on is wearing thin. And now Tom has it too, as well as a possible recurrence of shingles. I haven’t been to the rec center since you arrived, and I’d kinda like to go back. I like lifting weights and I miss it. However, going now would certainly result in my head tumbling off my neck and rolling around the running track. That is a hazard to the other guests, and so I stay home, hacking and snurfling and cursing you.
Giving up NyQuil because the hangover from red wine is considerably less,
HackCoughSnort

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Dear Tom,
I know you’re sick. I know you’re under a lot of stress. But I truly thought you were going to spontaneously combust the other night. Perhaps it was the NyQuil borking with my perspective,  but the fact you didn’t burst into flame was actually a surprise. I could actually see it happening, was waiting for it, actually. Glad you’ve stepped away from that precipice. And today’s crack about “isn’t cold and flu sex supposed to be really hot?” was truly funny. But, alas, no, it is not. Unless one of the participants has a fever. I know we get two and a half glorious hours alone in our house tonight, but unless we both suddenly knock this virus, it’s going to be pizza, movies, and cough syrup.
Love and kisses,
HackCoughSnort

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Dear summer camps,
Please have openings. I know I’m several weeks behind schedule in getting the boys registered, but I really need them in camps this summer. They certainly won’t be all day every day, but for the sanity of the home, they gotta get out of the house. I’m a much better mom when they have activities for which I am not solely responsible. And our travel this summer consists of driving to Iowa for a wedding and then on to Chicago…right at the very beginning of the break. It’s going to be a very busy summer for me, and they need to be occupied.
Please take my money and my sons,
HackCoughSnort

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Dear sweet new computer,
I love you. Still haven’t named you, but know that you are my very favorite computer ever. I love how you don’t crash, I love how you’re so speedy and efficient, I love that my stress level has gone down since you entered my life. I think I may have even lost a few inches around my waist. You’re so pretty and special.
Love every one of your circuits,
HackCoughSnort

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Dear #gtchat,
You’re starting now and I need to hop on. I love how much I learn every week and the connections I make. It’s a wonderful resource and one I do not like to miss. Thus I have finished here.
Off to chat with my tribe,
HackCoughSnort

Have a great weekend, and be sure to visit the other participants in Dear So and So and Friday Fragments!

Because it’s apparent that the school is a go, and I’m anticipating that I’ll be heavily involved (and perhaps serve on the Board of Directors), this will be the last I’ll write about the charter school. I can’t risk anything interfering with the success of this school, so I’m done with it here.

My poor husband may be getting the brunt of it all now.

7-0. Stunning.

This calls for wine.

Tomorrow is also the IEP renewal meeting for J’s speech therapy. Oh? I don’t mention his speech therapy much here? You’re right, I don’t. Might have something to do with the fact that Older Brother is a much squeakier wheel, and J’s therapy is easy and paid for by the district. He’s been in official speech therapy for four years now (yes, he’s just short of six, I’ve done the math and I try not to dwell on the fact that it’s over half his life). J has made great improvements in his speech, but he still lags behind in a few sounds. Lags behind nearly 3 years with those sounds, but because it’s not affecting his educational performance, it’s likely his IEP won’t be renewed. I know I could fight it tomorrow (and I suspect I wouldn’t need to fight terribly hard, either), but I’m just playing it by ear. I hate for him to lose ground (I don’t think he will), but I hate to not fight for the IEP and then need it later. We’ll see. It’s hard to fight for services when he’s reading (minimum)  four years above grade level.

Oh, and I have my first cold in three years. I’ve been a laugh riot the last few days. I took my NyQuil nightcap about 45 minutes ago, and now I’m playing “How Long Can I Stay Lucid” roulette. I give myself until I finish this post before my head slaps down on the keyboard.

I pray I return with good news about the school. I have no idea how I’ll swing working with the boys.

Dear eyes,
You’re getting old, aren’t you? You’re making me take full advantage of the zoom/enlarge feature of the new computer. You love it when I borrow large print books from the library. You make me squint, you dislike it when I go from close work to far, and you really hate it when the boys stick stuff thisclose in front of you to see. Can we stop with the fun and games? I mean, I love the enlarge feature of the computer, but I’m tired of feeling old. Gimme ten years. No, twenty. No, I take that back. Don’t.Change. Reeeallly don’t care to have bifocals.
Squinting as I re-read,
Blinky

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Dear A,
Grandma and Grandpa are coming for an unexpected visit this weekend. In fact, they’ll probably be here before I finish this post. You don’t know they’re coming; we didn’t even know for sure until Wednesday and thought we’d keep it as a surprise. Here’s the thing, kid. We haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving, when you had a world-class meltdown at their house, and Grandpa suggested we seek therapy. Ya think you could hold it together til Monday, bud? I’m still recovering from the whole music concert incident on Wednesday, not so sure I would handle a repeat meltdown in front of the grandparents very well.
My liver and I are begging,
Mom

(addendum: they did indeed arrive before I finished this post, and if this gets up on Friday, it’ll be a miracle)

(second addendum: it’s now Saturday afternoon and this still isn’t up)

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Dear Colorado Board of Education,
You rule next week on whether to override the district’s denial of our charter school application. Please choose wisely. Pretty please with sugar on it. With sprinkles, whipped cream, and a side of MYSANITY biscotti.
Wanting to work on a charter school and not have to find a full time job for private school tuition,
Jen

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Dear delightful spring weather,
I know you’re janking with me. Yes, it is warm and sunny today (catch the note that it’s now Saturday?), but I know that it’s a faux spring and a blizzard is likely to kick us in the teeth between now and May. Maybe even twice. So thank you for allowing me to sit outside and soak up the rays, but I still don’t trust you.
Glad I put on sunscreen,
The solar-powered mom

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Dear Fogo de Chao,
I love you and your enormous salad bar and your unlimited skewers of fifteen different kinds of meat.  I love that you participated in Denver’s Restaurant Week, so two of us could eat for $52.80 and not nearly twice that amount. I love you. Can we be BFFs? My arteries aren’t as thrilled, but I’ll give you a promise ring and everything.
The mere thought of bacon for breakfast this morning made me green,
Jen

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Dear cold that’s trying to take over my life,
Bugger off.
Drinking ColdNip like water,
She who sounds like a phone sex operator
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Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

What did I do to you? Seriously, did I pee in your Cheerios one morning and not know it? February is over, 2009 has blessedly passed, and yet…things are still askew. Thinking back, waaaayyy back, I came to the conclusion that things started going awry when it was your turn to lap the sun. Let’s recap, just in case you plan to play all “Wha?” with me.

I started off that year with a month-long regimen of Prednisone, for a sinus infection I didn’t have. Oh? When in that year? February, of course. I packed on 20 pounds in that short month…and my body has grabbed onto an additional ten, just for giggles. I’m fairly convinced that was the trigger event that pushed me into gluten intolerance, and am starting to believe that the drug managed to jank up my metabolism so well that weight loss may be harder than it should be. I’m working out more than I ever have, don’t eat crap, and yet I can’t drop the pounds. Pretty pissed here, 2006.

Once the doctor determined that it wasn’t a sinus infection giving me such face pain, but the fact that I was clenching my teeth so hard in my sleep that I was pushing a tooth into my sinus cavity, I got a bite guard. I have now chewed through aforementioned bite guard and will need to replace it this summer.

I trained for a 5k that year. Walked one in September because, dear 2006, I couldn’t train once A was in school. I was spending too much time in carpool. That changes this year. I signed up for a class at the rec center, training for a 10k, and a friend is talking me into run/walking a half marathon with her in August. I think I may do it.

Speaking of A, this was the year from hell, when all things hit. He started kindergarten (which wasn’t really prepared for a gifted kid), began occupational and vision therapy, had his tonsils out, and began ADHD meds. All.Of.This.Is.Still.A.Concern. You suck, 2006, for bringing this on. Really? All in the same year? I suppose you find it amusing that we’re still dealing with the vision therapy, that I now carry deep regrets about the ADHD meds and his growth, and that behavior/emotional concerns are still an issue?

Oh, and let’s not forget who came into my life that fall, dear 2006! Princess the PMSing Laptop! She sashayed into my home in November of that year and almost immediately started causing trouble. Bitch. But her reign of terror is now over, and in her place is a shiny new MacBook Pro (name TBD, though I really do like MacDreamy).

These were just the low highlights, 2006! There was so much else going on! We finished our basement (still paying for it), celebrated our ten year anniversary (miraculously still together), and started a home-based business (have since left). But the best part, dearest year from hell, was this blog. This little writing project was born that year, and has brought me more friends and supporters than I ever could have imagined. You can’t take that from me. Ever. The people who read here, who leave me comments, who carry me through the hard days when I just can’t do it myself…they are the best part of that year. And they have stuck around, God love ‘em.

So go blow it out your ear, 2006. You’re done here. I’m moving on. I will drop the 30 pounds you piled on me, I will run a half marathon, I will support and love and fight for my son until the day I die, I will dropkick Princess off the roof give Princess to my husband, and I will reach out to the people who have reached out to me. I’m no longer your pawn. So tell your little year friends, in particular 2010, that I’m back. And I’m not taking any more crap.

Love and kisses,

Jen

I suppose I should back up a bit.

Tonight was the 3rd grade specials showcase. A chance for the kids to show off what they had learned in art, music, PE, and computer lab. The PE teacher was going to lead them through a dance with the parents, the art teacher displayed the Carnivale masks they made, the computer lab teacher let the kids show off the Power Point presentations, and the music teacher had a little program of three songs with hand chimes.

And our son, spawn of two formally trained musicians, re-freaking-fused to participate.

We’ve been trying to gently encourage him to move out of his comfort zone. To push himself a little. I worry that by giving in to him too often that he’ll grow up to never try anything that’s uncomfortable or different. So we brought him to the showcase tonight and it just went downhill from there.

A curled up in the hallway by the music room and tried not to dry heave. For fifteen minutes I talked to him, cajoling, sweet-talking, encouraging. His music teacher (someone I went to grad school with…sigh) tried to talk to him; she knows he’s a strong singer (on pitch). The principal tried talking to him. His friends asked him if he was ok.

And he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get up and walk into the music room. Couldn’t go into the gym to sing. He has the strongest will of anyone I’ve ever seen, and he managed to convince himself that he couldn’t do it, that he would literally get sick if he did. He was well past fight-or-flight.

The principal, God love her, took him to watch the kids sing. I stayed in the hallway to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I eventually made my way in, and sat behind A. I was still too raw to sit with him. And once the kids started singing, the tears flowed.

This was the world I envisioned, the one with happily singing kids and proud parents with video cameras. How I envied the families in the audience, calmly enjoying an evening’s entertainment. I had to turn around and face the wall to hide my quiet sobbing; thankfully I was back far enough that no one could hear me. That is not my world, and won’t be. Our oldest son will always march to the beat of his own drummer, and little I do can change that.

Once the music and PE part of the evening was over, A dragged us to the computer lab (with only the briefest of stops in the art studio). And proceeded to show us every.single.thing. that the Mac could do. The computer lab teacher was so happy with his work.

I know, in the grand scheme of things, that this is not a big deal. I know there are other parents out there with much bigger problems, much more difficult kids. But I think the challenge here lies in appearances. By all accounts, A looks entirely “normal.” And he’s not. He is so smart, but his intensities set him apart and make life difficult for him. I’m honestly at a loss as to what to do. Things had been going so well for him lately.

Tomorrow is another day, one in which I clean for an unexpected visit from my in-laws.

It is the furthest I will be from February for another trip around the sun.

It’s the little things.

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I need a name for the new computer. My friends have sent in some good suggestions, but I want a few more. I’m about to just name it Dude, but since I call my boys Dudes, don’t know if that will work. Help me name my new sexy toy!

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A real, live post is up over at Hopeful Parents today. Something well thought-out, with a beginning, middle, and end. Not the random snippets that are here tonight.

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If the earthquakes that have been hitting suddenly break apart the earth a la Pangaea, know that I’ve loved our time together. I’m saddened by the destruction in Chile, but oh-so-glad that the tsunami seems to have taken it easy on Hawaii. I didn’t realize until this afternoon how badly I want to go back there, and wanted it to be in one piece (or rather, seven islands) when I return.

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February? Go away already. I can’t begin to express my joy that tomorrow is the last day of the month. It has been 27 days of bad news, and it needs to end already.

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Anyone seen my mojo? Is it off partying with yours? I’d really like it to return. I’m hoping that Monday will mark the end of its extended vacation and I can return to feeling…oh, I don’t know…human again.

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And if there’s anything more exciting than doing laundry on a Saturday night, don’t tell me. Not sure I could handle the excitement.