I haven’t had the time to review my goals from last year. I haven’s had the time to contemplate fully this year’s intentions. Time and I are having some issues.

I know that 2011 was filled with beautiful new beginnings – the birth of our twins, our five year old starting kinder, our three year old potty training.

It was also filled with many challenges – see above.

I was detailed in my intentions, but I may have tried to achieve too much. Much was achieved, much was not. I want to be able to do it all, this year I need to be selective. Time to part with things to make room for that which will enhance my life.

This year I want to write for me. Not to impress or to have the biggest following (hahahahahaha), not to seek feed back, but just write because I need to, because it is what exists at my core, that voice that wants to exist.

I have other goals I’d like to achieve. For this space, I seek a simple goal – write, make time for it, and do it for me.

Happy 2012! Keeping my intention simple this year!

I enjoyed reading “Welcoming the New Year with Grace” by Agapi Stassinopolous. Approaching the new year with grace sounds like a splendid plan.

His celebration this year was small, simple.

There were several cakes and candles.

This is my favorite picture of him becoming three. A bright, innocent light.

Love you little man.

I don’t know who this blog is for,

Is it for me?

Is it for them?

Is it a dream?

Sometimes I don’t want to open my computer,

Because it sucks me away for hours doing stuff that isn’t really all that creative or time efficient.

Sometimes I stay away because I’m not sure where to start again,

Not sure I’ll have the words to carefully reflect on my life,

Not sure I’m really using my voice and not the voice I think people want to hear (thou I don’t really think anyone is reading anyways so I shouldn’t really care).

Sometimes I wish I had the endurance and passion to write like I do when I run,

Even though I know I dread the distance and know the pain after, I know there is a definite beginning and end.

I know the constant struggle to push myself physically in a way I’m unsure how to do in other areas of my being.

Sometimes I need to rethink this space,

Rethink myself,

Envision what I want,

And get back to examining this life so that I can remember these little people and who I was by their side.

And the winner is….

Congrats Tiffany!!!

I will contact you soon with details for how to claim your Uprinting.com labels!

Time to get my toes back into this blog with a giveaway from Uprinting.com!

Uprinting.com is an eco-friendly printing business that offers a variety of customizable printing options.

The Prize details:

One (1) lucky winner will receive 250 (2″ x 3.5″) print labels.

(70lb Label Matte, Front Only Printing, 4 Business Days Turnaround).

Restriction: Limited to US residents 18 years old and above only.

For more printing information check out:
Label Printing
Product Templates
Printing Services

To enter:
Please leave a comment about how you would use the labels. One winner will be chosen at random, verified, emailed, and announced in a Winner’s post on August 30.

Giveaway ends August 29 at midnight.

Disclaimer:
This giveaway is sponsored by UPrinting, no monetary compensation was given and I will receive labels for hosting. Check out product templates on UPrinting.com.

Good luck!

I was six, going on seven, in first grade, having to sit at a desk for the first time, brutal after kindergarten rug seats. Laid back eduction turned to stifled rote memorization of spelling words, math drills. Don’t get me wrong, I loved learning, and was always a student who sought to please the teacher with neat handwriting, the correct answer, diligent attentiveness.

But I remember only one thing I learned that year:

One, two, three, four, out, in, spread, together, ON!

Chinese jumprope. I was obsessed.

One, two, three, four, out, in, spread, together, ON!

My stretchy rope, was pink woven delicately with purple highlights. I would beg others to play with me, two people would wrap the band around their ankles and a third would jump. Round one. Easy, unless, a careless mistake was had, and that person stepped carelessly on the the rope.

“Ah, I saw that! You’re out, my turn!”

The poor, clumbsy soul would then become the rope holder and the game would begin again for the next contender, who would strive to advance, ankles, knees, and the ultimate challenge the thighs. To soar high enough to land perfectly on the rope, solidly, one foot on each slender band.

And when victory was had at the highest level, the next round would begin, same routine new twist, literally. It might mean creating a diamond and jumping out of it, or crossing the rope over, or pulling the rope to it’s ultimate thinness and attempting each challenge with the goal to win.

Win what?

The self satisfaction that I could jump and land perfectly on the small targets. Wasn’t that enough for a six year old?

One, two, three, four, out, in, spread, together, ON – so ingrained in who I am. You can catch me every now and then still playing the game with my fingers when I’m nervous or bored. Still trying to beat a childhood game, or finding solace in a simple pattern, something I’ll probably be doing until I die.

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Memoir prompt:

And now I totally want to teach my kids to play! Cheap Chinese jump ropes on Amazon.

Surrounded

by

many,

demanding,

little

people.

******************
Check out Six Word Memoirs, pretty fun to read.

35 weeks 3 days preggo mama
Doing my best to keep up with 2 rambunctious boys,
I’m left with phrases, little energy, and the sun still shining,
Thank you day light savings.

Highlights of today:
Playgroup with friends we haven’t seen in a while,
Kids playing together nicely,
Rain falls in the background,
While I have fun catching up with mommy friends.

Two year old putting older brother’s old tap shoes,
Running wildly around the house to help out,
Throw a way trash…tap..tap…tap…
Running to refresh toy supply…tap…tap…tap…
Tap shoes in the sandbox, time to take them off.

Boys playing together putting Scoutie to sleep,
Which involves wrapping two year old’s stuffed animal
Snugly with a fuzzy Thomas blanket
And then sticking him in nook behind the couch.

5 year old stating it was hard to sit next to me
On the couch because I am fat,
Assuring me it is because of the babies.

Now I await my pie.
It’s Pi Day,
My kind husband has procured several pies
for the pregnant lady who waits at home.

Must try to remember to greet him first,
Before I dive into the pie. : )

P.S. Twins you are not allowed to be born tomorrow,
It is the Ides of March for goodness sake!!!

I’m at the start line at 6:30am. There’s a chill in the air, and I’m bouncing up and down in my spandex running shorts, aqua blue running shirt and jacket. The sun has not come up yet, but 500 runners slowly accumulate, awake and ready to race.

I pop a piece of cinnamon gum in my mouth. Chew, breathe in and stretch arms up over my head, feeling the tension in my back from a lousy night’s sleep filled with excitement and anticipation.

I have been training for three months, two times a week. I’m not the best runner, but it’s something I have learned to love (and hate some days) because it’s a skill that challenges me physically and mentally. It has taught me to finish what I start, if nothing else.

“Hey,” Sherri says. She is bundled in running gear, bright red hair pulled back at the base of her head.

“How are you doing?” I ask, my voice scratchy, still unused. Early morning light is beginning to creep slowly across the sky awakening soft, billowing clouds. A beautiful day for a hill-country run.

We begin to be push closer to the starting line. I hear chatter all around; I feel the energy and desire to move, to start. The music blares loudly, causing the crowd to talk louder.

“So, we stick together?” she asks.

“I’ll do my best,” I say. “I think you’re faster than I am.”

“We’ll see,” she laughs.

I pull out my shiny, silver iPod and put it on to make sure it is working. It is, for now.

“Did your family make it?”

“No, they are still sleeping. This one would be too much for them with the parking and having to take a bus,” I say. I accept that they can’t always be there with me. I will be thinking about them as I run. I am definitely feeling my sports bra squeeze my breastfeeding boobs snugly. Yes, I will be thinking about them, and run faster so that I can get home sooner.

The sky brightens with sunlight, the transition quick. I can sense more runners ready to begin. I can smell their fresh shower scents, hear their feet softly scraping gravel as they stretch and finalize their routine.

The crowd is moving closer to the starting line. The timer on the running clock is counting down to the race beginning; big, bold red numbers announce two more minutes.

I’m trying to get a hold on how my body is feeling; will I be able to run all thirteen miles? Will my wonky foot start to hurt again? Where are my Shot Blocks? My running jacket is starting to feel warm.

“You don’t mind if I listen to my music?” Sherri holds up her iPod.

“No, totally fine.” I respond. I am relieved she will be listening to music, so I won’t have to waste energy talking.

The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers. “Runners, at your mark!” Pause. “Get set.” Pause. “Go!” A gun pops sharply! A mass of people begins to move forward, slowed because the flow is bottlenecked.

I begin, like so many other things in my life. Only, this time I will finish, even though I may not know exactly how, perhaps running, perhaps walking if that is what it takes. I will see the gently rolling hills, enjoy the peaceful pastures, while my body rages a war of will in itself, mentally and physically.

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Memoir prompt:

This week’s assignment was, when meeting someone for the first time, describing a scene from your life that would help show the person your true self.