Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The Warrior Mom

I like to think of myself as tough. Not tough in a brutish way, but rather tough minded, driven by a strong will. So, when my sister-in-law recently asked me if I'd be up for participating in a Warrior Dash with her, I thought "why not?" I've survived combat with the General, the Tank and the Destroyer and I am unscathed, not counting mental wounds, surely I could handle trekking through a little mud. Later that afternoon, I told the Bear that I was thinking of running the Warrior Dash with my sister-in-law. His growling laughter was not the reaction I had expected. "What's so funny?" I barked. "Do you know what the Warrior Dash is?" The Bear couldn't contain himself. "You don't even like to get dirty!" His laughter was now booming through my ears. "I can handle the mud! I go quading with you and the boys and get muddy!" I responded defensively. "Yes, and you also carry baby wipes. And you're riding on a machine, not crawling through the mud. I think you better do some more research before you sign up," said the Bear. Truthfully the thought of actually crawling through the mud, didn't sit well with me. I decided to google "Warrior Dash." This is what I found, "Warrior Dash-A mud-crawling, fire-leaping, extreme 5k run from hell. Warriors conquer extreme obstacles, push their limits and celebrate with music, beer and Warrior helmets." I was horrified! Fire! My sister-in-law never mentioned fire. And helmets? Unless my children would be chasing me with sticks to get me to run faster, why would I need a helmet? And, I have to be honest- running through mud to celebrate with beer at the end doesn't excite me. However, if wine were waiting for me at the end of the race, I may consider running through mud AND fire. God, I hate to admit when the Bear is right.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Not Me

Seems my kids have a new friend. He tailed my kids home one day from school. He's a pest, run amuck in my household and won't leave. He was totally uninvited and he’s rude. Apparently, he's been frequenting homes across America. Now, normally I am a non-violent kind of Mom. I prefer to scream so loud at my children that I set the house alarm off. But, seriously, this nuisance needs to be exterminated. His name is Not Me. I'm sure anyone that has kids knows him. He's the one that probably broke your favorite vase but "didn’t mean to", or spilt maple syrup on the table and didn't wipe it up, so when one of your other kids sat down to do their homework, the paper stuck to the table then tore apart into shreds when you tried to remove it. Not Me has also taught my kids some new choice words. He'll stand directly behind the Tank, hiding himself like a coward, and drop the "F" bomb. Then he'll run right off before I can catch sight of him. This is his M. O. He's got his disappearing act down to a science. We'll it's time to pull out the big guns and make Not Me disappear for good. Next time Not Me decides to write on my walls with crayon, everyone will be punished. It's time my kids learned what my Mom taught me- You're guilty by association. So, choose your friends wisely.