So That's Where My Limit Is

All I wanted to do was add a new exercise regime into my schedule to kick it up a notch.

I've been reticent to return to my prior level of workouts since my injury in late February, and I'm tired of feeling not-so-toned since then. (And yes, you're right - that injury should be old news by  now. But it didn't heal picture-perfectly, so when I finally got clearance in early July to exercise again, the doctor stipulated I ease into my favorite pursuits. I'm back to tennis full-strength. But not running yet - just speed-walking a couple days a week. And I miss strength training.) I'm ready for more.

The program I want to do would be a great way to throw me back into the intense workout habit: P90X. It requires a 60-90 minute strenuous workout 7 days a week, for 90 days.

But I've just reached the awful conclusion that I I've hit my limit! There's no room in my schedule to add a 7- to 10.5-hour commitment to my week, without removing something else.

And I don't have anything else I can remove right now. My two biggest endeavors are (1) building the new house and (2) starting my new business. That's on top of working part-time for my husband's business, running the household, and managing the kids' schedules. And playing tennis.

I mean, I'm already getting up at 5:30 am. By 9:00/9:30 pm, when the kids finally go to bed, I'm exhausted.

{ s i g h }

I guess I have to face the fact that I can't do everything I want to do.

Or maybe I can squeeze it in every other day. Let me take another look at my schedule... 

Almost to the Day

On October 29, 1998, we closed on the house we currently live in. The movers came the very next day, October 30, carrying everything we owned.

Twelve years later almost to the day, on October 21, 2010, we closed on our new property. Yet there are no movers this time around. Not yet, anyway. We won't be ready to move until about a year from now.

It may have taken us 14 years to find our home - yes, this is what we'd been looking for all along, even before purchasing the house we live in now - but we've finally found it. When we heard this place was on the market, my husband and I didn't even need to discuss it. We both knew. We were going to buy this place. When the kids found out about it, there was no hesitation: they wanted to know how soon we could move. When we finally took the dog over after closing, he ran and ran and ran, stopping periodically to sniff the air or explore something on the ground. And when he ran back to us, I swear that dog had a smile on his face.

So it's unanimous: all 5 humans, and 1 canine, love our new home. And even though we have much work ahead in razing the existing home and building a new one before we can move, it does feel like home to us. It's where we belong. It's where we were meant to be all along. It isn't really a choice for us - it is destiny.

Where Did That Come From?

As a young girl, I was not competitive. I loved gymnastics, but did not choose to compete on a team. Same with swimming. I just liked the sports for fun and self-improvement.

In school, I earned good grades, and enjoyed the access those grades gave me to accelerated and AP courses, but I didn't feel compelled to compete for elite status. I just liked learning.

My measure of success has always come from doing more and learning more than before, and enjoying the process of growth. I compete against myself, not against others.

So it feels strange to me, now that I'm in my forties, to feel competitive. And I like this competitive drive! Except when I lose. Because then it really ticks me off. That's new, too.

Take tennis, for example. Having picked up the sport later in life, I'm not exactly great at it. But I'm addicted to it. I love it. I could play it every day and still want more. Last year, my first year on a team, I had a dismal record. Oh, it felt awful. This year, my record is considerably better. And the two matches I've lost so far were quite close. (Yeah, they still have to go in the "L" column, but it makes me feel better to tell you we weren't just clobbered.) I found that losing those matches got to me in a way that losing has never gotten to me before. I mean, I was really in a funk the rest of the day. Not an attractive trait at all. But caring so much about the losses caused me to think through how I play and make adjustments for the next match. So the passion - though negative - serves a useful purpose.

Now I'm preparing to open my business. True, I'm opening later than anticipated. (I'd initially planned to open now - in October 2010. But I couldn't find the right location in time, and I realized I could use some mentoring, so I postponed the opening until March 2011. It's better to start right than to start early.) But I don't consider the postponement to be a failure - just a change of plans. With any business, an owner needs to be able to adjust to present circumstances, so I consider this early decision as part of my training.

Already, I'm finding that competitive drive is very real with this business. In doing my research, I've talked with several business owners with shops of similar size and target market to my own, though with a different product mix. I have been surprised to find that some of them don't care if they make money. One told me it was her "hobby." Well, I like hobbies too (tennis, anyone?), and she's certainly entitled to run her business as a hobby. But I won't! No - I plan to make money. To pull customers away from the existing Cincinnati-area businesses in my market, toward my own. I don't just want success. I expect it. Yes - I expect to enjoy myself, too. For sure. But let's face it, business ownership is really hard work. I want to see a nice payday as a reward for all those long hours.

So I don't know where this latent competitiveness came from. But I hope it's here to stay.

Best Laid Plans... And Changed Plans

I'm in the thick of it with three tweens.

Back when tweendom was a far-off pipe dream, and I was drowning in the life of mothering three babies, then three toddlers, replete with diapers, naptimes, therapies, dirty clothes, dirty dishes, and a dirty house, the moms of older kids told me to "enjoy this time while they're young!" because "just wait until they get older - then life gets crazy!"

Huh? Life was already crazy. Surely, once the Age of Reason hits, my three kids would be easy! and fun! and cool!

And they are indeed fun and cool. But easy? Yes and no. As any parent of tweens knows, it's true you no longer need to feed, bathe, and change the kids. They've definitely mastered those tasks. But now we have negotiations (because, you see, they can talk in complete sentences now - and they've turned their finely-honed skills of argument and persuasion on you), opinions (about what to have for dinner, what to do with their time, what clothes to wear, what you do with your time, what you wear, what you say, etc.), and a social life.

It's par for the course. They're supposed to grow up, move on, look outward, think for themselves, socialize with peers. They're doing exactly what they're supposed to do, and exactly what we want them to do.

Ahhh, but here's the rub: At the ripe old ages of 12-3/4 and 11-1/2, they can't drive yet.

That's where I come in. I'm the chauffeur.

So this weekend was our typically busy weekend. I did a lot for my kids: hosted a sleepover for the twins, took my son clothes shopping (because, you know, when your 12-year-old boy who hates shopping tells you that he needs a few things, you drop everything and head to the mall!), did heaping loads of laundry, spent 2 hours ironing that laundry, took the girls to their riding lessons (that alone took a big chunk of the afternoon), took the girls to get haircuts, hosted friends (OK, that wasn't for the kids - that was for us, and it was so lovely to sit and sip wine with friends), and nagged - oops: "managed" - homework time and piano practice.

But what I really wanted to do this weekend, just for me, was attend the Kitchen and Bath show at the convention center downtown. Today was the last day of the event, and the only day it would fit in our schedule. We'll be building a new house in the coming year, and since it's been 12 years since we moved into this house, I'm in need of up-to-date ideas for the new place.

I even showered early and dressed all spiffy, even though it's Sunday and I usually get up early but hang out in my PJs at least until mid-morning, if not noon, on Sundays.

But, bless her heart, my sweet girl taught me to slow down and appreciate the more important things in life. She accomplished this by passing out right after I came downstairs, dressed and ready to go. The poor thing had been sitting on a counter stool in the kitchen. When I turned to look at her, I saw her hitting the hardwood floor (still not sure if that was her shoulder or her head that I heard). When we rolled her over, she didn't respond immediately. Instead, we were horrified to see her eyes rolling back in her head, her body limp and unresponsive.

When she came to, she had a headache (who wouldn't?) and was clearly disoriented and upset. This particular girl of mine doesn't cry or yell in a crisis: she becomes mute. We examined her body for cuts, bruises, or breaks, and found none. With effort, we got her to speak a few words and discovered the headache and a pretty bad stomachache from the trauma.

Eventually, after she'd been settled on the sofa with orange juice, Tylenol, and the remote control, most of the family members moved on with their plans. My husband and son headed to the football game for which they had tickets. The twin headed to a friend's house. I stayed home with my daughter. There's no place else I wanted to be at that moment.

After about three hours of lying around, she finally started to speak again. And she ate. A few minutes later, she got up from the couch and changed her clothes. The headache and stomachache were gone. I imagine she'll be a little stiff and sore tomorrow, but thankfully she's not seriously hurt.

The Kitchen and Bath show? I missed it. But despite the change in plans, I've had an unexpectedly enjoyable day hanging out with my daughter. While she recovered, I relaxed too. I haven't driven anyone anywhere. I've been here, all day, chillaxing (as my son would say).

Even though I was looking forward to going to that show, my daughter's fainting spell put life in perspective: We'll be able to design the new house despite the fact I did not get to see and touch those tiles and faucets and countertops at the show. There's more to life than kitchens and baths.

Much more, like: the health of my family, spending quiet time with my child, and the restorative powers of a Sunday afternoon nap.