If I knew I was going to live this long......

I used to fret when I had to log that dreaded “F” next to a failed attempt on a lift. It really upset me and left me doubting myself. If I had to log an “F” next to a lift I had done previously…oh boy, that’d really send me down doubt lane. 

I now realize that I’ll have more chances to attempt that weight. There is more to life than just this minute. That is something I try to impart on my daughters daily. Especially my oldest daughter who is a very “right now” kind of person, if it isn’t happening to her right now it doesn’t exist. It is good to focus on this minute, it currently is the only one we have and it is the most impactful at this moment but we do get many more. I am not conveying that you should be wasteful of your minutes; you should take joy in all your minutes. There are many folks out there that have no more minutes….. 

 My grandfather, who I call Pap, is not well and has deteriorated to a point that frustrates me. He is a good man and I was hoping that he would have a lifetime of peace, not a bumpy end of the road ride. I have been able to go back home ( a three and half hour drive) on the weekends and spend time with him and I have never felt so honored and blessed to spend time with a person as I have been to spend this time with my Pap. He doesn’t remember minute to minute and is extremely weak. His lungs are damaged and he cannot have any liquids or he will aspirate. All of his food is in a pudding consistency and they add a thickener to his liquids. I’ve had the honor to help him eat, hold his hand, stroke his hair and remind him to keep his oxygen cannulas in. 

 It has also been some of the most heart wrenching hours I have spent; you see I love my Pap. I know you are thinking of course you love your grandfather, but everyone has a duty to love their family. I don’t know my mother’s father very well. He worked a lot when I was younger and I had a falling out with my grandmother ten years ago and we quit talking. I wish them well but although they are family they are strangers to me.

 My Pap has been a corner stone in my life; he is the one who always gives me advice. My dad doesn’t like to give advice. Call him with a problem and he usually will commiserate with me but won’t provide any solid feedback. My Pap on the other hand will tell me to suck it up, and he isn’t telling me to suck it up because the other option was to look weak. He was telling me to suck it up because most of the time the right thing to do is hard….and hard sucks and the only way to overcome that particular adversary was to suck it up, put your head down and work. 

 My Pap said if he would have known he was going to live this long (he is a month short of 88) he would have taken better care of his body. I think this is such valuable advice. When he said it I instantly thought of all the times I have beaten my body up because it would not perform to what I thought it should be. Times I had pushed myself to some crazy limit to accomplish…..well that’s the crazy part; I can’t even identify what I was trying to accomplish with my crazy exercise induced abuse. 

 Some of the things I love about my Pap the most have absolutely nothing to do with his physique or his looks. The thing that sticks out the most was his home was a home. You could go in there and run up and down the steps and he would never yell. You didn’t have to take your shoes off or close the door behind you. He had an easy laugh and was always patient with me. He would listen to whatever wild story I was telling and laugh. And he had lots of idiosyncrasy sayings that made no sense at the time but as I got older would make me laugh. Like, “Ang, you are goofier than a three dollar bill.” “Home is where you kick your shoes in the corner and piss on the world.”

 Now when I log that “F” I remind myself that I will have another attempt, I will take good care of my body because I have the genetics to live into my 80’s and that the people who love me the most don’t love me because of the exercise that I can do. Be good to yourself.

A lack of mental maturity in grown woman

When I was a bit younger I used to recall certain aspects of my childhood with my mom and beat her up over them in my mind, or to my friends.  One memory in particular always bothered me, I was about seven or eight and we were in Daytona Beach visiting her boyfriend. He was that guy that rented bikes and body boards and umbrellas on the beach. I had been playing with another girl I had friended on the beach and her mom and dad invited me to go to SeaWorld with them the next day. My mom agreed. 

To me as an "adult" I was baffled that she agreed to this. We didn't know these people. I viewed this as irresponsible and selfish. She wanted alone time with her boyfriend....who to me as an adult was a loser...really...a grown man renting gear on the beach. Of course I wasn't going to cut him (or her) a break regardless of his profession....and as an "adult" that sounds feckin awesome!  

I don't really remember much about Sea World. I'm sure I had a lovely time. The only thing I do remember is the little girl throwing up in my hair on the ride home. 

Now....as an adult (and I use that word loosely to describe myself, every time I think I have this "adult" thing down I learn something new that completely crushes me into submission of just how stupid and naive I still am) I break this down and have to give my mom some credit. 

You see this was the mid 80's before the ubiquitous white van started showing up offering candy to young kids and abducting them to sell to satanic cults for blood rituals. This was before Jaycee Dugard was kidnapped walking to the bus stop while her step-father witnessed the whole thing.  No one really stole kids at this point...or well they did, it just wasn't on the news putting fear into the American parent yet. 

I can tell you after Jaycee Dugard's kidnapping in August of 1989 I was on lockdown until I graduated from high school. My mom was sure at this point I was going to be stolen and sold to the black market for sexual slavery.  (My mom's very all or nothing). 

I realize now as an adult...that perhaps my mom deserves a break from me....after all I've done shit I'm not proud of as a mom and I am 100% positive Sydney will write a book exposing all of them in a year or two. I see her scribbling away in a notepad giving me that seething look at least once a week.

I also realize now that my mom wasn't very emotionally mature when she was in her 20's and even in her early 30's.  There are certain things women who don't have this maturity do.  Like let their little children go off with strangers for a few hours of time with their boyfriend. Or act like a tough guy that could beat your ass if you smile wrong. 

As we watch TUF 18 this becomes very apparent to me.  There is a significant difference between the way the two coaches act. You have one woman whose father killed himself because he had a terminal illness when she was very young and the other whose dad coached her wrestling team in high school. Very involved and very absent. 

At first I was pretty harsh on the fatherless coach's behavior....which my little ears were all so eager to pick up on it and so began the parroting. Ugh...another failure. Now I am back pedaling a bit and trying to provide some face for this poor woman to my seething 13 yo...who much to my chagrin is very all or nothing. 

We can't all be perfectly behaved and wow, what a huge blessing it is to have that stable father (and mother) figure to provide that emotional maturity before you become 20 something and attempt adulthood. Wow...you can pick it out instantly can't you? 

So in yet another long winded rant, the point is!!! Be nice to your mom.