Slog and Waddle and the Sandwich Generation

It was been a long time since we posted. There are notes for blog entries in old fashioned paper journals, but that's where they have stayed.

This summer we buried our father, and I sent my third son off to college. This is normal life. People age and die. They grow up and leave home.Yet normal doesn't mean easy. This week I struggle with focus and diligence. Deadlines go unmet. Time slips by. I consider myself responsible, but not this week. Yes, I went to work. I ran. I ate. I did the laundry - well, some of it.

The past few years have been hard, but they have also been good. The extended family craves time together. We have started new traditions while continuing old ones. Last Sunday three generations, including an aunt, gathered at my sons' college. We took photos. We laughed. Outsiders watched us, either with amusement or concern. I can't say which.

Yesterday would have been our father's 84th birthday. That's why I write today.

I am attaching the midnight ramblings that helped me through the weekend we lost him.
In honor of 1.
And for the family I adore.

This should take you to my document, In Honor of 1.

Heading to RunDisney

Note: I wrote this the old fashioned way, with pen and pencil, waiting to fly to Orlando. I was terribly distracted for a few days so am just now getting it to the blog.

---Waiting in the terminal is different this trip. There are a few families, but mostly I see long, lean women in tight exercise pants, Nike swoosh, Under Armor logos, lots of expensive running shoes, pony tails and head bands. This is not your average crowd. One man carries an Ironman bag slung over his shoulder. On the other hand, I am, and look like, the average mom. There is one group of mom-types but they are casually confident. They have done this before.  If I had thought this out would I be here now? I am certainly out of my league. Yet this discomfort is part of the reason we do this. Eleanor Roosevelt said, "Do the thing you think you cannot do."

 Reach. Stretch. Grow.  I worked hard to teach my children that mistakes and failures are OK, even good. If they wanted to grow, learn and better themselves they could not reach only for the comfortable. 

Seeking only comfort will limit. And I am trying I remind myself of that as I wait to take the next step in this adventure. 

Slog and Waddle Makes Three

If you have a chance to look over this blog you will see that there are three contributors. That makes three sisters. I realize that Slog and Waddle sounds like two, but the terms are representational, and amorphic. You see sometimes the words are verbs, as in: I slogged for quite a long way while she waddled. Sometimes they are proper nouns: Slog is much more a night person; Waddle is always better in the morning. As nouns they can apply to each of the sisters at different times. Sometimes Slog is the first, sometimes the second, sometimes the third sister. I would certainly never choose which of the three of us fits each term best. If you have sisters you will understand my reluctance. Besides, there was no third term that fit comfortably into this. Slog, Waddle and Roll? Slog, Waddle, and What-the-Heck?

If this seemingly careless use of terms is bothersome or hard to get a hold of, I really am not able to help you. I prefer to call it poetic, and Slog and Waddle it is.

Slog and Waddle Go to Disney

The Disney Marathon is 5 days away.

There is no time to start a blog or write a post, and yet here it is - started.

Mother's birthday gathering tomorrow, major after-holidays-cleaning early tomorrow morning, classes to plan, science supplies to get together, substance abuse research for health class, yet another(!) PT session, work on Wednesday, teach on Thursday, shop for last minute supplies, pack. Fly out Friday.

To Disney for a marathon.

I am not a runner. I am in my 50's. I have an injury that has had me in PT for over a month. And I am going to Disney for a marathon.

This is what we do, my sister and I. We set some crazy goal. Try not to hurt ourselves too badly while training. Sustain some sort of injury on our trip. Recover. Set another crazy goal. We usually take turns choosing the trip. This one is hers. My goal in joining was to train for the 6 months, and to go along to support her. But, yes, I am signed up to run.

And we will just have to see how that goes.