A place to share the joys and challenges of our little, but growing, family. Life with three girls, ages 5, 4 and 1 year, is a joy most of the time. But, there are challenges to every life and this is my place to share some of that.
I have the signup date for the next one on my calendar. It is a smallish race, so I might be last, but in all honesty, I like to do interesting races. If that makes sense.
I have done a race across the Mackinac Bridge, I did one on Woodward Avenue, a Turkey Trot, one where you got a cinnamon roll at the end, the Detroit half you run over the bridge into Canada and through the tunnel back to the USA.
My hubby is always interested in what the Charity organizations are that benefit from the races. One of the few repeats I do is one that raises money for suicide prevention (http://www.momrace.org/). When I ran the Detroit Half I raised money for Samaritas (https://www.samaritas.org/).
This next half I am hoping to get a spot in is back in the area I grew up. I am hoping to be there so my family can see me finish–though I am also slow so I hate to have them waiting for three hours, but we’ll see what happens.
Well, it is time for me to stop telling you about running and get out there to, well, run!!
Well, my journey with Arabic lessons continues. I completed the first 8 weeks and was allowed to move on to the next class.
Making the genders of words agree just might kill me, but I am trying. Like today I typed sani waahid (one year) except that in order for genders to match it needs to be sani waahidi. Sani (year) is feminine so the adjective waahid (one) must also be feminine. Wahid is masculine, so I need to change it so sani waahidi. So close yet so far away.
But yesterday I had a couple of big wins.
I was looking at my purse, full of junk and trying to figure out how I would conjugate that correctly. The word for purse would be santa or because mine is big and heavy you could add kibiir for big purse. But if I want to say my big purse santii kibiirii because adding the long e sound (ii) to the end of a word makes it the possessive pronoun my. And I figured that out and remembered I had to change BOTH to make it correct!!!!! I threw a little party for myself when my friend confirmed I had done it correctly.
Then, later, she told me saha (it is said like cheers when eating or like bless you when someone sneezes). The correct answer is 3ala qalbik. It means on your heart (isn’t that beautiful?). Suddenly, I looked at it and realized that 3ala means on and the ik means your feminine so qalb must mean heart. I messaged my friend again and asked her if I had that figured out right and she confirmed I DID!!!!!!
That still has me sooooooooo excited I can’t even tell you. So excited. I went bananas. I ran into the living room where my family was watching tv and interrupted them to yell about how I had figured out a word and how I did it and how cool and how smart I felt and how maybe I could do this language thing and…
Yeah, I went crazy.
This journey is hard but oh man it is rewarding…
Can you remind me of that next time I am whining about trying to learn this and how I will never get the hang of it?
So less than a month ago I had probably my best run ever when I completed the Detroit International Half Marathon. It was emotionally, mentally, and physically the most rewarding running experience I have had.
And yet, Today, on November 11, I have run exactly 3 times since. The first week was to rest and let my body recover, but since then, I can find a billion other things to do and even when I have a nice chunk of time to run–I don’t wanna.
I don’t wanna deal with those first minutes of running in the cold. I don’t wanna pull out the layers to get dressed to run. I don’t wanna have to take a shower afterward because I am all sweaty. I don’t wanna.
This is not a new phenomenon. It has happened before, but I thought this time I had learned my lesson, I would not slack off…but here I am blogging instead of getting my butt out there. So soon, my daylight will be gone and I will have to run inside, so then I will whine about how much I hate running on the treadmill.
Yes, I have a headache, I might very well have one all week thanks to this grey, sinus aggravating weather, but the thing is, I know after a few minutes out there, the extra blood flow will give me a break from my headache.
I even have an audiobook I would love to listen to and lots of Arabic words to practice.
Today, I became a collector of half marathon finisher medals!! I read that once you have three of something, you have a collection. Today, I added my third half finisher medal!!
Three months of squeezing in runs, building miles, letting other tasks and hobbies slide, culminating in 13.1 miles from the USA over to Canada and back again.
I dragged my family out of bed at 4 am–yelled and fussed until I was in my corral at 6:30–over an hour before sunrise.
Patrice was the holder of the cowbell. She walked around all morning saying, “I have a cowbell!”
Sue was none too impressed with this early morning start.
As I waited in the corral, I met three people with whom I struck up a bit of a conversation with–in Arabic. This was their first race and they were planning to walk the vast majority of it. We wished each other well and were off.
My average running pace puts me in with a lot of walkers, but I am not one of them. It was quite the task to weave in and out of the people in order to keep running, but I did it.
This is the bridge from the Canadian side. We ran over on the bridge and ran back through the tunnel. You are actually running under water for one mile of the race.
I had the privilege of running this race because of a lovely friend who was born Canadian but is now an American. This spot marks where you go from one country to the other. There were lots of pictures being taken. Again, I didn’t stop to take any…I clicked and ran. I did end up walking my one and only step at this point when a person was dead in the way taking a picture and an old lady shoved me to get through. I paid her back by passing her and never seeing her again 😉
At mile 9 I ended up catching up with one of my friends from the start. She was really struggling so I slowed my pace to run with her a bit. We chatted and kept moving. I ended up moving on, but I found it a great privilege to run with her.
Then mile 11 came. And this running gig started getting harder. By mile 12 I was hurting pretty badly. And all the sudden a lady came alongside me and said, “I have been following you the whole way and you have been inspiring me to keep running.” I was really not able to talk anymore at this point, but she stayed with me, chatted just enough to keep me moving, and helped me find that last bit of oomph to dig deep and speed up for the finish line.
I owe her a great deal.
She and I crossed together, she gave me a hug and thanked ME for inspiring her. And then another lady came up to me, gave me a hug and thanked me for inspiring her.
Me. They thanked me.
I had gotten my medal and my warming foil but was still at the finish line when my friend from the beginning finished. I was so excited to get over there and tell her “Mabruuk (congratulations)!” She thanked me and gave me a hug.
And that for me, is the perfect race recap.
I never dreamed I would ever get confident enough in my running to help others, I never dreamed I would inspire someone who didn’t know my story. I never imagined I would run 3 half marathons in 13 months.
Perfection got a little better when I got home and found my race results on-line. I finished in 3 hours, 2 minutes and 32 seconds. That is 22 minutes faster than my first half and 25 minutes faster than my second. My overall pace this time was 13:56. I was hoping for a pace in the 14-minute range. I never dreamed in a million years I would get under 14!!!
I am tired and hungry and thirsty. But I am happy on so many levels!!!
I am looking forward to very gentle activity this week and finding my next race…
Our family has had the privilege over the last year or so of learning Arabic from native speakers who started as friends and are now family.
Our family has had the opportunity to experience how badly your brain can hurt from learning Arabic.
There’s a reason it is considered the second hardest language for English speakers to learn.
Many of the sounds are different. Sentence structure is often different. Greetings are very different.
Let’s start with the alphabet.
My girls have been painstakingly working their way through the alphabet as well as adding vocabulary. My lessons have not involved written Arabic, rather, I am trying to sort out the spoken.
Turns out Arabic has 18 conjugations for almost every noun and verb. By way of comparison, Spanish has 6 verb conjugations.
And Arabic has these greetings that not only said at specific times for specific reasons but also have particular answers. I’ll give you an example with it translated into English.
You come home from work and have been busy, I say–“God give you strength.” You say, “God strengthen you.” There are many others. My favorite is “Kaif Halik (how are you)?” “Alhamdhallah (Thanks be to God) or Ashkurallah (God is good).”
I enjoy seeing how they all fit together, but I find it hard to remember what I am supposed to say when and how.
Yesterday, Caitlyn was struggling to remember her new words for this week’s lesson. She is used to everything except math coming very easily. Arabic had her mad. How dare it be so hard? I totally relate!
Today in history we were studying the tower of Babel where the people on the earth had gotten very proud and decided that they could build a tower that would reach all the way to heaven. Rather than letting the people be destroyed by their own pride, God introduced many languages, so the people no longer could talk easily to one another, rather, they had many different languages and communication was instantly more complicated (Genesis 11:3-9).
3And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. 4Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” 5And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. 6And the Lord said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. 7Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.” 8So the Lord dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. 9Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of all the earth.
And it has worked, hasn’t it? Things are much more complicated than they would be if we had just one common language.
So Caitlyn, building on what she had said yesterday about it being hard, said, “see it’s a curse!!”
But is it?
Yes, it definitely makes things harder, but our language is also part of our identity. It is part of what makes us who we are. It is not just a bunch of sounds strung together. It is how we see the world, how we do things. It is the respect we show, the respect we expect.
It is also a way to bond with people. If you even just try a little to learn someone’s language when it is not your own, you have instantly shown them honor, that you value them. And when the words don’t come out right–you can bond over laughter–like the day I told a lady, I would bring her a house (bayt) when I meant to say I would bring her a book (ktaab).
Yes, learning Arabic is hard. Really hard, but that first time I was able to tell one of my friends that I loved her in Arabic, it was all worth it.
So, while Caitlyn may be convinced it is a curse to learn Arabic, it will continue to be part of our
Eight years ago I was in a fight for my life. Postpartum depression, anxiety, and psychosis had taken hold of me after Patrice was born.
It is much too easy to remember the desperation of those days…being busy with the girls non-stop because I knew if I stopped or slowed down I would fall apart and I was just as certain that if that happened I would not be able to pick up the pieces.
I remember looking at my newborn sleeping–so jealous that she could sleep and I could not–knowing that in a few short hours my other girls would be awake and there would be no time to rest–and yet, I couldn’t sleep.
There was the day I took a very new baby and her two older sisters across town to a play place. Our A/C was out, it was hot and I could not stay home. I could not sit. Hubby was home that day, what if he saw what a mess I had become, I could not bear to have that happen, so away we went.
Daily, I reached out to my midwife for one reason or another. She was a friend and I instinctively knew she was safe. She was so patient. She talked me through my desire to disappear, she passed on recipes for butternut squash. She helped me find help when the inevitable came and I did fall apart and I couldn’t pick up all the pieces.
Eight years ago, many doctors, medications, a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and a few hospitalizations later, and here I am. Is it easy–nope, each day is a balance. Is it possible, yes. Am I thankful–more than you will ever know.
The Lord has brought me through so much. He has brought a calling into my life–a couple of them really, and He has brought me my tribe–those women who love me, reach out, and help me take care of myself. I am so thankful to Him and all of them.
This last week we took advantage of the flexibility of homeschooling and went camping…we packed up Frazier, our Arabic lessons, reading, and Bible and hit the road. We became mosquito fodder for a few days as we enjoyed the quiet of Lake Michigan.
We came home in time to start our homeschool co-op classes. Patrice is taking gym, kite making, and games. Sue is checking out gym, kite making, and sports info. Caitlyn is learning about immigration and refugees, games, and photography. I am teaching the class on immigration and refugees and helping in the games class.
Friday we headed to the library after our studies at home (they were not so thrilled with the double portion of math…but that’s the price you pay for going to the beach!)
I am enjoying the cooler temperatures as my runs get longer–my next half marathon is less than a month away. Saturday I ran 8.5 miles. I am happy to report I didn’t run out of stamina, I just ran out of time as we were headed to visit with friends for the evening.
Daddy got super brave and asked Caitlyn to trim his hair. She said later, “I’ve been teasing him for so long that I would do it, but once he asked me to, I was scared!!” She did a great job!!
I remember when Caitlyn was born discovering how painful it was to love someone other than yourself. I mean, I love my husband, no doubt about it, but there is just something about that baby.
I went back to work when she was 10 weeks old, but before that, I stood in Target one night crying because she was growing so fast and was going to grow up and leave me.
Here we are 12 years later–I want to throw up each time I think of her growing up so quickly.
Then came Sue…
And finally Patrice.
I love them so much. How in heavens name could I love anything else?
I’ve had dogs most of my life and I really loved my Stuie…but this guy? We got him for the girls…and I got a dog. He doesn’t snub the girls like my mom’s dog did me when I was growing up, but he’s my dog.
He runs the vast majority of my miles with me (11.5 this last week), he is incredibly grounding and comforting for me when the Bipolar gets overwhelming…I love this little guy.
Then over the last week he started coughing here and there…until yesterday when he would cough so much he was throwing up some. I have been panicking. My mind of course going to every worse case scenario possible. I even asked my Sunday School, you know, a room full of adults, to pray for my dog…
He seems much better this afternoon. I even think we have narrowed down the issue (kennel cough?) which is easily treated. I am so relieved. And so hopeful that my little running buddy will be back at it soon.
(It drives hubby crazy how much the dog is up on furniture, but he is so gosh darn cute and I think he is a huge part of how well I am doing with the bipolar…having him curl up next to me is better than any of the medications they have given me)
How do you do it? How do you homeschool your kids?
Some days, I don’t know. I love homeschooling my kids and having them with me. That closeness is a lot of why I first considered homeschooling. But I am, at my core, an introvert who requires time to recharge on my own–alone–away from people–quietly–and there is not a lot of that when you are a stay-at-home homeschooling mom of three girls, ages 8, 10, and 12.
And there is the husband who likes to talk. And going to church with people. And I have an amazing tribe of women in my life that I love spending time with.
All of these things are fantastic, and I wouldn’t change them, but I can end up tapped out before the day even begins.
That’s where distance running comes in. Today, I logged 7 miles with Frazier. It was incredible. I waved at a few people and they waved at me, I listened to a book on Intercessory Prayer, told the dog to heel, and ran for over an hour and a half…that’s it. For once, I didn’t wish I were a faster runner, though I am a little embarrassed to say how long my runs take, I just felt the power of being able to put one foot in front of the other for that long. And when I finished, I knew I could have gone farther, likely, much farther.
I am home now, needing to take a shower, but I wanted to process some of this first. The gift that is the time it takes me to run the distances I want to go.
The school year will start the week after next. There will be more in my day and the time to run my distances I love so much will be harder to find, but find them I will, no matter what it takes.
I am blessed to have the time with my girls. I am blessed to have my time to run…one makes the other possible.
I follow a lot of runners on Instagram and they all mention how great a running partner is. Thing is, I am too slow to run with anybody. I once tried to join the local running group and they told me they didn’t have anyone that did slower than a 10-minute mile but they would give me a map I could follow–gee thanks. I can make my own route…I was interested in running with somebody.
Then, for a short time I could run with Caitlyn, but she is faster than me and trying to get her to run is very difficult.
I gave up on running with anybody and just ran for myself, but I was kind of bummed out.
Then this little dude came along.
His legs are long enough to run with me but not so long that he’s dragging me. I have started taking him with me more often. The other day I tried to sneak out without him and he was having nothing of it. He now gets excited just seeing me in my running clothes. He does 4 miles easily, though by the end he is slowing down. I don’t know how much further he can go–I might have to sneak out for my longer runs, but for now, I am really excited to have a running buddy.
Hubby still sometimes makes the silly mistake of thinking he is the girls’ dog. Nope, he is mine, all mine.
A place to share the joys and challenges of our little, but growing, family. Life with three girls, ages 10, 9 and 6 years old, is a joy most of the time. But, there are challenges to every life and this is my place to share some of that.