Bowlin for Adventure

It’s a Passion, Not a Hobby!

When I started roller derby a few months ago, I did it for a few reasons.  First, I thought it’d be a nice way to keep my leg muscles in shape during the winter months, because I simply won’t run in cold/rainy weather.  Second, I thought I might meet a couple new friends, and being new to the area, I jump at any opportunity to meet new people.  And third, well, nobody expected me to do derby.  I’m girly, not athletic and really not very aggressive.  I thought derby would be a hobby.  But, to my surprise, it’s become a passion. 

MORE THAN JUST A LEG WORKOUT!

I was taken aback completely after my first practice, because it wasn’t my legs that hurt.  Sure they were sore.  But the real pain was in my back and abs.  I didn’t realize how much I’d be using my core just to stay upright on my skates.  Well, not completely upright, because skating in “derby stance” means your squatting.  As one coach put it, drop low and when you think you’re low enough, you aren’t, so drop lower. 

It’s a great aerobic workout as well.  I’ve read that during a typical 2 hour practice, we burn around 1,200 calories!  No wonder my body has changed so much in such a little time.  I’ve lost several pounds, I can actually see “an ab” in my stomach area (where there used to be just pudge), and yes, my legs are bigger.  In fact, I had to re-lace a pair of knee-high boots that I hadn’t worn since last winter, because they wouldn’t fit around my calves anymore (especially my left one).  And as I saw these little physical changes occuring, I wanted more, so I started eating better.  I actually crave healthy food now!

MORE THAN JUST NEW FRIENDS; NEW SISTERS

As I’ve said before, our league is just starting out.  Which means we’re kind of going through labor pains as we all decide what we want from this.  And anytime you put 30 ladies together, well, there’s going to be some drama.  But I’ve noticed that no matter how much conflict there is, along with it is a great big heap of love. 

I’ve personally made some life-long friends who I’m proud to call my sisters in derby.  Being the gal who usually hangs out with the guys, this is all new to me.  I adore the fact that while I’m learning to skate, I’m also learning how to be a great girlfriend/sister.

IN DEFENSE OF DERBY

As I said, no one who knows me expected me to do derby.  So when I started, there were lots of comments.  “You’re going to hit someone?  Yeah, right.”  “We’ll see how long this lasts!”  “You’re going to get hurt once and quit.” 

And honestly, I believed a lot of it.  When it comes to doing things for myself, I’ll admit, I’m flaky.  I’m great at coming up with big ideas of projects and then not following through (I’ve got a whole cabinet of craft supplies to prove it).  But there was something about all the comments and laughing that made me kind of defensive.  What do you mean I can’t do this?  I’m going to prove to you, and me, that I can!

And as I’ve progressed, I’ve proven that I can do this.  I can take a hit and get right back up.  I can skate way faster than I ever thought I would, and I’m getting faster with each practice.  I can keep doing this week in and week out and I’m not getting bored.  It’s no longer a hobby, it’s a passion.

But with that comes a whole new line of comments that I must defend against.  “Are you talking about derby again?”  “Don’t you think that 3 practices a week is a little much for something that’s just a hobby?”  And my favorite, “By spending so much time away from your son and husband, don’t you think you’re putting roller derby ahead of your family?”

And the only thing I can say about this is, I’ve never felt this way about anything in my life.  So if I talk about it a lot, support me.  I need those practices so that I can progress and not let my team down.  And no, my family still comes first.  But I am with my child from 6 in the morning until 8 at night every day.  I don’t think that the 8 hours a week I’m gone for practice is going to do him harm; in fact, I think it does us both some good to get away from one another every once in awhile.  And skating gets my frustrations out and makes me healthier, which in turn, makes me a better mother and wife.  So in my mind and heart, I feel that derby adds value to my family.

So that’s some of my roller derby story so far.  I can’t wait to see where this passion leads me.

Living a Praise-Worthy Life

A couple of very sweet friends commented on my last post, saying that it was inspiring to them as they travel their mommy paths.  And my first reaction was to make a sarcastic remark about how, yeah, I’m really inspirational.  I live such a grand life that everyone should be so jealous of!  But I stopped myself.  And I took their compliments gratefully (and hopefully gracefully) with a simple thank you. 

Then I thought, “Gosh, if someone is inspired by my words, maybe I ought to work a little harder.  To live a more praise-worthy life.  Because lots of people are going through exactly what I’m going through.  And maybe if  I can help someone else, even just by giving them a laugh, then that would be fantastic.”

So that’s my new goal.  Not to actually receive more praise for just living my life.  But to live in a way that I won’t feel guilty when someone gives me a compliment.  To live a life worthy of praise.

The Promise List

Before I became a parent, before I even met the man who would be the father of my child, I made a list.  It was a list of things I promised to do for my child.  I wasn’t naive enough to believe I could do things like answer every question honestly or never raise my voice (nice thoughts to be sure, but promises that would be impossible to keep).  Instead, I filled my list with things I believed would make his childhood more interesting and beautiful.  More of an adventure. 

So far I’ve been able to make good on some of them.  Things like giving him a cupcake the morning of his birthday, because the entire day deserves to be celebrated, not just after dinner.  And I never, ever stop hugging first.  It’s amazing sometimes how long of a hug he needs, and I will never be too busy or in too much of a hurry to end a hug before he’s ready.  And last night I fulfilled another one, despite everything in my brain telling me not to.  I’m glad I did.

I’m currently in the middle of a “single-parenting” stint because Matt is under way on his boat.  These seem to be getting more difficult for the Boo to bear, as each time Matt’s gone, Boo seems to act out more and more.  Last night he was being downright disrespectful and repeatedly rude.  I won’t go into full details, but the straw that broke this camel’s back was him telling me, “You’re fired from being my mommy.”  So I sent him to bed early as punishment.  And it turned out to be just what the doctor ordered, because after only about 10 minutes of crying and screaming (after a potty break and a nose-wiping break) he passed out hard.

Around 10 o’clock I was getting ready to head to bed myself and took the dog outside.  I turned on the porch light and saw snow coming down.  Big fluffy flakes coming straight down silently.  The kind that land on your jacket and you can actually see the individual crystals for a few seconds before they melt.  I felt like I was in a snow globe and it was beautiful.  Knowing the snowfall would likely be over by morning, I wanted to share it with Boo.  And doing so would fulfill the promise of waking him up on random nights and throwing a little party just because.

But I hesitated.  Because waking up the Boo is a nightmare.  He is the crankiest person when he’s not left to wake up by himself.  Because I was tired myself, and who knew how long it would take to get him back to sleep.  And because he had been put to bed early as punishment.  What kind of lesson would I be teaching him if I woke him up and let him have a treat now?

That’s when I remembered the list and decided the lesson I’d be teaching is the one that I had in mind when I wrote it.  That some things are worth waking up in the middle of the night and celebrating. 

So I went into his room, wrapped him in a warm blanket, picked him up and carried him onto the deck.  He was about to start throwing his don’t wake me up fit when I quietly said, “Boo, look up.”  He opened his eyes and as the flakes landed on his cheeks, he smiled.  Then he looked at me, wrapped his arms around my neck and said, “Momma, I’m sorry I said hurting words.” 

We stood for about ten minutes in that snow (the first time he’s really seen snow falling, by the way) just admiring nature’s handiwork.  He ended up in bed with me for the rest of the night, and I only got a couple hours sleep because of it.  But it was worth it.

Totally worth it.

Putting On My Big Girl Panties

So, I’ve been doing roller derby, which is an adventure in itself. When I started, everyone kept asking, “Aren’t you scared of getting hurt?” To which I’d reply, “Well, it is a contact sport, so some injuries are to be expected, but I’m in pretty good shape, so I’m not too worried about hurting myself too badly.” And I really wasn’t worried… until yesterday’s practice.

My league, the Shanhaied Roller Dolls, is a brand new league, full of ladies who are all new to the sport. So we didn’t really even start practicing how to hit someone until a couple weeks ago. And I came away from that first hitting practice elated because I learned I could take a real hit, fall on my ass and still get back up for more. So what happened at yesterday’s practice that scared me so badly that I was reconsidering my derby career? I let my brain get in the way.

Unfortunately, we’ve lost our usual indoor, fairly smooth-floored practice space for the month of December. So we’re using a covered outdoor area at a local school for practicing. The surface is uneven, not very well lit, heck there’s even a drain in the middle of the track. So of course I was a little aprehensive about skating there. But I thought, if all these other gals can do it, so can I. I didn’t want to be the girl bitching about the track, so I didn’t.

But for some reason, everytime I went to push myself a little harder, all I could think was, “What if I get a toe caught in that crack and knock myself out? What if I skate over the drain and break an arm? What if I don’t see a piece of debry out there and really hurt myself?” Those were the questions my concious mind was thinking, but my subconcious kept adding to the end of each question, “and with Matt under way until Friday, who will help me take care of my child?” And then it dawned on me. That’s why I’m so freaked out right now! At every practice so far, my husband has been at home, so I knew that if something were to happen the Boo would be taken care of. But he’s under way on his Coast Guard boat until Friday, which would mean that if I got seriously hurt, I’d have to have our ombudsman get hold of the boat to let him know what happened. And until he got home, I wouldn’t have any family nearby that I could ask for help with the Boo.

So last night, I was thinking about quitting. Maybe roller derby is not the smartest choice in my life right now. Maybe I ought to wait until Matt has a job that has him home every night before I go chasing my roller dreams. Perhaps the fact that I was frightened at all meant that I’m just not cut out for skating with the big girls. And I went to bed with the intention of writing my letter of resignation this morning.

Of course, in the morning things always are a little brighter, so you can see them a little more clearly. And I remembered that when the Boo had just been about 10 months old, I threw my back out, badly. I could barely pick him up, and he wasn’t walking yet. I had no one to help out, except a mother in law who lived 3 hours away. After a couple days of living with the pain, I did end up driving those 3 hours to her so that I could get a little help. But the fact is, we survived those couple days on our own just fine. Another time, we both got the stomach flu while Matt was gone. I could barely get out of bed, but somehow I managed 3 days of puke, crap and crying (from us both) and we survived.

And there was one huge difference between my life then and my life now. Those small disasters happened when we lived in Georgia. A place where we never seemed to fit in, where we never made any real connections with other people. Now we live in Oregon and I have an actual support system. I know that if something were to happen to me while Matt was gone, I’d have help. My MOMs Club would make sure that my child never went hungry or without a Candy Land opponent. Our Coast Guard family would help out, too. No, they aren’t family, so I can’t depend on them unconditionally. But I can depend on them and know that when I recover I’ll be making it up to them when they need it. In fact, the only reason I’ve been able to make practices while Matt’s gone is because some great friends are allowing my child to hang out with them for a few hours.

So today, I’m putting on my big girl panties and getting over it. I’m quieting my mind and letting my heart and body take over. I’m going to practice this afternoon and will give it everything I’ve got. I have this one strong body, and I will not let my fear keep it from doing all the things I know it can do. And if I do get hurt, I won’t cry about it. I’ll get through it in true big girl, roller girl, Coastie girl style.

Poop Painting

Recently, the Boo has become something of a night owl.  He’s always had trouble going to sleep, mostly, I think, because he’s afraid of what he’ll miss.  Little does he know that all he really misses is Mommy picking up and sitting in front of the television for about an hour before heading to bed herself. 

Because of this reluctance to go to dreamland, we’ve always adhered to a strict 8 o’clock bedtime, with a 20 minute ritual of books and cuddles and then leaving the light on, because a nightlight is just not enough.  And it used to be that I’d hear him playing for about 10 or 15 minutes before he finally drifted off.  But lately, he’s been staying up for an hour or two after he’s been put to bed, with numerous trips to the bathroom and requests for extra cuddles.  But tonight he decided to, let’s say make life a little more adventurous for me.

About an hour after I left his room, I decided to go check on him, to see if he was actually sleeping.  I hadn’t heard him, but was honestly caught up in my Sunday night show, so I could have missed some small sounds (I’m a True Blood fanatic).  So I go to check on him, and I see him standing in bed.  He looks up at me with feces-covered fingers and a huge grin and says, “Look Mommy, poop paintings!!!”

The footboard of his bed (which is actually his crib turned into a daybed, so there’s a lot of area there) is covered in shit.  His sheet is covered in shit.  And my son himself is nearly covered in shit.  He spared his hair and face, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Of course, I was horrified by the spectacle.  But honestly the first thing that I did was laugh.  Because what was I going to do, send him to time out covered in poo?  Send him to bed early?  There was nothing to do but stifle my laughter and clean up the mess.  I got him undressed and in the shower, with a stern order to clean every place that he saw poop.  While he was washing (thank goodness his bedroom is attached to the bath), I took the sheet off the mattress and the mattress off the bed and started scrubbing.  Then I went back in to remove the rest of the offending matter off his small body, while he asked if I had noticed the rocket he had “painted.”  In a matter of about 10 minutes the entire mess was resolved and he was once again in bed.

As I tucked him in, I wondered, how can I make sure this NEVER happens again?  I had already told him repeatedly that he must never touch his poo, that if he needs to poop he should call me and I’d help him into the bathroom.  But we’ve already spoken about this before, and obviously the lesson had not been learned.  So I did something I never thought I would do.  I threatened physical punishment.

“Boo, if you ever make another poop painting, I will smack your hands.”

And he promptly put me in my place.

“Mommy, we NEVER hit.  Even if we’re angry.  Even if someone else does something wrong.”

There were my very own words, coming back to me.  One of the biggest lessons that I’ve tried to teach him in his short little life.  That there is never any good reason to inflict bodily harm on another human being.

I said, “Baby, you are right.  And Mommy will never hit you, or hurt you on purpose.  But, and listen to me really good, if you EVER make another poop painting, I will take all your cars away and you won’t be allowed to play with them for a really long time.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.  Making poop paintings is fun, but I like to play with my cars more.”

Lesson learned.  For both of us.