First Day of School

The first day of school had been hanging over my head since the day the kids were born. It scared me to death. They had become such a huge part of me; the most important appendages of myself, and to even think of them getting all big and going off to school, would get me nauseous in an instant. The fact that it was already here was beyond my comprehension.

I tried my best not to think about it too much and instead focused on making sure they had all their school supplies and uniforms ready. I would quickly shift my thoughts to hippos pooping if I felt myself lingering on the pain of them growing up for too long. It's one of my super mature coping mechanisms.

Anyway, Callie was pretty excited and Wyatt looked like a deer caught in headlights. They had no idea what to expect, and to be honest, we really didn't either. We had never been on the parenting side of the fence with school. After taking an obscene amount of pictures, we loaded the kids up and I shakily started driving them to school. I was so nervous that I was having trouble swallowing and got so flustered about finding a parking space that I backed up into a concrete water pole and screwed up the bumper on my car.

We unloaded the kids and walked through the front doors to be greeted by the principal (who shot us the look of death) and informed us that we were almost an hour late. Two minutes into the school year and we were already in trouble. Lovely. I mistakenly thought school started at 9:00. Mom of the year.

Wyatt walked slowly.  He was scared to death and was in a full blown panic by the time we reached the classroom.  It was probably good that we were late because we hurriedly pushed them through the door and the teacher swooped them away.  We walked out of there alone.  It felt very surreal.

We literally didn't know what to do with ourselves until 11:00, so pathetically, we pretty much just drove around in circles and stalked the playground from the parking lot.

When we were finally able to pick them up, I psychotically hugged them and spun them around as if I were checking them for any signs of physical harm.  I started berating them with questions that might help me detect for any emotional damage that may have been done to them too.  There was nothing.  They were super excited, chatty, and seemed to have really loved it.  Both asked if they could go back the next day.

Two months deep, they are still loving it.  They even get annoyed with the weekends, anxiously waiting for Mondays to come again so they can go back to school.  While I miss them terribly, it's the best response a mom could have hoped for.  In the beginning, I was lost without them.  But now, I am loving having that time in the morning to clean up and run errands.  And, let's get real... sometimes, I just laze around in the peace and quiet.

Here are a few questions my nuggets answered as they entered Pre-K:

What's your favorite color?
Wyatt: red
Callie:  purple

Who's your best friend?
Wyatt: Vinny
Callie: Ari

What's your favorite food?
Wyatt: Cheeseburgers
Callie: Soft Tacos

What's your favorite dessert?
Wyatt: Ice cream cookies with M&Ms
Callie:  Yogurt Parfait

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Wyatt: An astronaut
Callie: A princess

What's your favorite TV show?
Wyatt: SpongeBob SquarePants
Callie:  SpongeBob SquarePants

What's your favorite movie?
Wyatt:  Megamind
Callie: Tangled

What your favorite toy?
Wyatt: Daddy Hippo
Callie:  Mindy and FooFoo

What's your favorite thing to play by yourself?
Wyatt:  Ride my bike
Callie:  Organize jewels

What's your favorite thing to do with family?
Wyatt:  Play with Oma
Callie:  Have a picnic on the May River

Atlantic to Carroll, IA

Okay, I've definitely been procrastinating on blogging about the rest of my Ragbrai adventure only because the next part isn't as nearly as glamourous as the beginning.  It makes me feel like a slacker. I sagged for the next two days.  Sagging is when you help out with the logistics of the team instead of riding; such as loading bags on and off the trailer, helping to set up camp, running errands for riders, etc. 

The first day was completely by choice.  There was no way I was going to be able to make it the whole way on day 2 and honestly, I felt bad about holding Katie back.  She's a great cyclist as is her brother, and I could tell how badly she wanted to ride with him instead of more slowly with me. 

Because there were so many other people sagging that day, we had four SUVs full of riders and pathetically, it was the very first day that I realized how many people on the team were battling Parkinson's disease themselves.  I learned so much about the disease on the car ride that day and was completely enthralled by the stories these patients were telling about being diagnosed and how biking was doing so much for them in terms of keeping their symptoms at bay.  It was humbling.

Jay is the guy who started Pedaling for Parkinsons. He is a biker as well as a doctor who specializes in Parkinson's disease.  One year, he casually asked one of his patients if she was interested in participating in Ragbrai on a tandem.  The patient agreed and astonishingly enough, when the ride was over, Jay noticed a huge reduction in his patient's tremors.  Even her handwriting had improved dramatically!  It's been several years now, and Jay's study continues to gain momentum.  If you are interested in his website, click here.

Anyway, I couldn't have spent that day anymore perfectly.  I was falling in love with these people.  And to top it off, when we arrived at our next campsite (another retirement home) we learned that there was an empty apartment with two air-conditioned bedrooms that our team would be allowed to use.  Of course, the Parkinson's patients had first dibs on these rooms and one of the guys, Jim, was sweet enough to allow me and Katie to crash on the floor of his room!  I was grateful to the point of giddiness!  Katie and I even unlawfully scouted out a washing machine in the common area of the facility and did a load of laundry. 

(My stuff on right.) 

That day too, we even got to go to Wal-Mart for a minute to run errands which was awesome not only because Wal-Marts are air-conditioned, but because they have huge, fairly clean bathrooms.

Here's a little secret about me:  I am hugely repulsed and scared of public toilets.  Infact, as a kid, I wouldn't even use the bathroom at school and instead would wait until I got home; my bladder on the verge of explosion.  Hell, I still would prefer to pee in our portable baby potty than at a gas station. (This may or may not have happened at least a handful of times.)

The first night, I was grateful to have the use of someone's home bathroom.  The second day, I avoided the port-a-potties at all costs by begging a staff member at the retirement home for the access code to the employee's restrooms.  (I was so grateful to have gotten it too!)  By the third day, I was more than happy to have my own stall at Wal-Mart and you can bet that I was happily sitting flat-assed on any public toilet by the end of the week, so long as it wasn't a putrid dump hut of a port-a-potty.

Camp at a retirement home in Carroll, IA

Carroll was such a cute town too with less than a handful of buildings in total.  We went to the local golf course 'clubhouse' (and I use that term loosely) that night for dinner.  The restaurant staff treated us all amazingly.  They doted over us as if we were celebrities! I think we all walked out of there a few inches taller than we had when we came in.  It was pretty cool.

Happy Humpday!

  

Let's talk about Waldo.

So, Tony died.  And, although I'm not ready to talk about it, I will say that I feel like I lost a child. I'm sure some of you can't fathom how losing a pet is even remotely close to losing a child, but for those of you who really know me, know that regardless of the shape of your physical body (and whether or not you're covered in fur), everything under this roof is defined as family.  Tony blurred that line more than any pet I've ever had.  He was my furry soulmate.

Moving on. I just wasn't right when I lost him and I knew I could never fully fill that void again for the rest of my life.  Getting another cat seemed ridiculous.  For one, we still had three animals which, to me, is amply infested.  For two, Tony, with his special needs, required constant care and attention.  Cats are generally pretty aloof and another cat just wasn't gonna cut it.  I decided that we didn't need another animal.

But the hole was huge.  And it was nagging.  I cried for months.  Still do sometimes.

A couple of months went by and I found myself daydreaming about getting a little dog.  I'd see little dogs in outfits and in their own strollers and stuff and I completely related to the concept of babying a critter.  That's how it was with Tony - sans the outfits and stroller, of course.  (Although, if it wasn't for his severe asthma, I may have considered the stroller.)  :)

Eventually, I became obsessed with finding the perfect little dog and would spend hours each day stalking ads online, calling breeders, scouring newspapers...  I didn't even care that with three dogs and one cat, we might end up on the next episode of Animal Hoarders.  I was getting a dog and she needed to be perfect.  Finally, I found one.

Enter Sophie.

In June, we brought home Sophie.  She was stinking cute!  So happy and crazy too.  She brought the sunshine back into this house for a minute.  Brent was head-over-heels in love with her the moment he saw her and she was such a doll baby.  For me, it was weird though, because no matter how much I tried to love her and accept her into our family, I just felt like she was a puzzle piece that wasn't perfectly fitting.

I knew I had issues with the loss of Tony, so I struggled to fight through it.  But, after only a week of having to run home to let the puppy out to pee, chewed toys, and cleaning up puppy accidents (typical puppy stuff - not her fault at all), I knew in my heart, that this wasn't our puppy.  And wow, did I feel like the biggest piece of shit for bringing her into the house, seeing Brent and the kids fall in love with her, and then having to explain to them why I didn't think we should keep her.  Man, I struggled with that!  Was I being selfish?  Was this solely my issue? Or, was she really something that was hindering our freedom to be gone all day, go on road trips, etc?

Brent and I went back and forth for days. Finally, we placed an ad in the paper and found her a new home - a newly retired couple who would be with her all day.

It burned us.  Our house was empty once again.  Two losses.  First Tony and then the sweet puppy, Sophie.  What the hell was my problem?!  I felt like the worst mom ever.  Brent probably thought I was going schizo.

I decided, no more animals.

So, it shouldn't shock you in the least that two months later, we ended up with "Waldo".

His name is Frankie and from the very first moment he walked into this house, you would have thought that he had always been here.  There was no adjustment period, no slowly 'fitting in' kind of a thing.  He was just here, as if he had been here forever.  He brought an immediate comfort and contentment to our house.  It was as if he was a little gift.

It was a long road to finding our balance again in this house, and although he could never replace Tony, all four of us couldn't be happier or more thankful that Frankfurt Anthony is a new part of our family.

Where's Waldo?

Glenwood to Atlantic, IA

With less than an hour of sleep, I crawled out of my sweat box feeling like death-warmed over.  I stumbled over to the house and sat in line with the rest of the weary peeps to brush my teeth before quickly hurrying back to tear down the tent and choke down some energy gel. 

I was so scared that my hands were shaking.  I was afraid that everyone was light years more talented than me.  I was afraid everyone had infinitely more stamina that I did.  I was scared I would get lost or get a flat tire or just flat out not be able to make it.  What was going to happen then?  How was this all going to unfold?  What on earth made me ever think that this was something I was going to be able to achieve?  With a shakey voice, I bravely told Katie that she could go ahead without me if I was holding her back.  She nodded but reassured me that we would stay together.

We started slow. I was doing it.  My bike wheels were moving and I was pedaling.  I had scared myself into certain immobility yet my wheels did infact spin.  I saw other people biking around me.  I could do this.  The crowd was massive.  Thousands of people were sharing the road at once and biking within inches of each other.  It was awesome and the early morning sun with the fog and the backdrop of corn fields was something I wanted to breathe into my soul forever.  I felt like I was in a dream.  This was beautiful.

But only a few minutes into the ride, we saw the first hill and it was a beast!  I was feeling strong and went for it excitedly.  With my angel hair noodle legs though, I quickly realized that hills were not my thing. We rounded a corner and saw a dozen more, each one bigger than the next.  Katie was starting to pull away from me and my legs were already getting tired but thankfully, she waited for me to catch up every couple of miles.  We must have only been about 10 miles in and I had at least 60 more to go. 

The further along the route we got, the worse the hills were getting.  I had never seen these kind of rolling hills before.  They were more like mountains.  Katie and I stopped around mile 20 and ate pancakes.  The break was awesome but it was hot as balls outside.  We knew we had to hit it in order to avoid the intense heat of the afternoon. 

We stopped for lunch around mile 30; our bodies screaming for calories. I was starting to get a handle on things.  It was tough, but I was really loving the little towns with all the food vendors and more than anything, I was enjoying the people of Iowa.  They were all so sweet and so awesomely supportive.  People would line the roads to watch us and to cheer us on with decorated posters.  All the grandmas had made pie and baked goods for the riders, and everywhere you went, you could hear lawnmower engines that had been turned into homemade icecream makers. I was totally in love with Iowa.

But when we got back on our bikes this time, my leg muscles were so tight and the hills weren't stopping.  At the next town, it was even worse.  I was done.  My legs were starting to quit on me, and all I could do was encourage them to hang on.  It got to the point where you didn't even want to stop for fear that you might not be able to start again. 

Katie got a flat tire that day too.  I was so impressed that she was able to change it all by herself.  I documented the moment by taking pictures.  We stopped at one last town for more massive calorie consumption and to see the world's largest bicycle.

Eventually, we made it into Atlantic.  My hams were shredded and I needed a walker.  I laid on the grass for awhile just to try and regain a normal body temperature although with temperatures well over 100, I didn't know if that was even possible. All I wanted was a shower.

The showers were a problem.  For $5, we got to stand in line for well over an hour, sweating our ass off, only to have less than five minutes under a hose behind a tarp that flapped in the wind.  There was almost zero point to getting clean since you'd immediately start sweating profusely again in the intense heat.  And without any makeup, those Iowan farmers probably felt the need to shove a stick up my ass and use me as a scarecrow.

That night we stayed on the lawn of a retirement home and they offered a lasagna dinner for $5 which was awesome since we didn't have to walk anywhere.  We sat in the dining room for hours just trying to stay cool in the air-conditioning.  We stalked the outside of the building for an outlet to charge our phones.

I was so tired that falling asleep in my oven of a tent, wasn't going to be a problem.  However, there was no way I was going to be able to get up at 5:30am and do it all over again (let alone for 6 more days in a row).  I started panicking.  I knew that physically, I just couldn't make it.  Thankfully, because of the extreme heat and hills, a large group of riders on our team felt the same way that I did and asked to skip Tuesday's ride.  I gratefully signed up to skip that day too.  I was so relieved that I could have floated away. 

I slept like a (sweaty) baby that night.

The First Night

So, eventually the tornado passed and the rain slowed to a light mist.  Thankfully, one of the bike mechanics on the team was nice enough to put my bike back together.  I was still majorly shell-shocked and trying my best to internalize my anxiety. Katie knew a few people on the team from the year before, including her brother, so our tiny group left camp and walked to the downtown expo.

It was really cool, although downtown Glenwood consisted of not much more than a clock, a bank, and a bar.  There were, however, dozens and dozens of local food vendors lining the square.  There was also a stage with a karaoke-sounding (at best) 80's cover band.  Katie and I immediately went for the grilled corn stand which was probably my favorite thing that I ate during the entire trip!  (And we ate some awesome stuff!)  It was sweet, and juicy, and better than any corn I'd eaten in my entire life. Amazing!

We left early, all of us pretty edgy about the start of the ride in the morning (Me, possibly on the verge of fashioning a noose out of my bicycle chain.) so we could get a good night's sleep.  In theory, camping always sounds kinda cool.  Earthy. Outdoorsy. One with nature-y.  But in reality, it always sucks.  The insane heat, questionable wildlife noises, bugs, a constantly damp pillow and sleeping bag, falling asleep in a pool of your own sweat, the slight slant of the hard ground... not to mention, having to pee in the middle of the night.

Our team (70 people) was given use of the host family's basement bathroom, which meant a huge backup of people in line for the potty. This bathroom could have been off the set of 'That 70's Show'.  Brown walls, reddish-brown shag carpeting, and a toilet in an oversized sectioning-off of the basement. I snuck out of my tent and up to the house so many times during the middle of that night, just so I could sit on the bathroom floor, and try and cool off in the air-conditioning.  I was way too nervous and too hot to sleep.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, I wanted to cry.  I was over this shit.  Where the hell was I?  Who's house was this?  (Are they murderers?)  How did I get here?  How is this my life right now?  Why did I think this was a good idea?  I had actually put myself in this position and paid lots of money to get myself to this point - this bathroom - in Bumfuck, Iowa.  I was dumbfounded.  Every minute seemed like an hour.  I missed my babies.  I wanted to go home. 

Bus Ride to Glenwood, IA

We met the rest of the team in a highschool parking lot the next morning after a luxurious night of sleep in the rat trap. Unfortunately, it was raining and getting our bikes and gear loaded into the trailers and bus wasn't fun. Everyone kinda shrugged off the tornado-producing storms that dotted the entire state because basically, we were in this thing regardless of weather conditions. I tried to dismiss it as well, but to be honest, I was nervous as hell and very uninterested in camping in the rain.

The bus ride was cold and we watched Mall Cop three times in a row. Shoot me. People were sharing newspaper pages to use as blankets. No one wanted to seem ungrateful for the last few hours of air-conditioning we were going to have for the next seven days, so no one complained. While I swaddled myself in the sports section, I took in the Iowan countryside and enjoyed seeing all the corn and soybean fields.  I was in absolute awe of the giant windmills up there. Oddly enough, they almost seemed majestic to me.

It took all day to drive across state to the starting point in Glenwood, IA and towards the end, it became a race against the sun to have enough light to set up camp. I was already having heart-palpitations from the anxiety of the situation. Who the hell are these people? What did I sign up for? Did I train enough for this? Where the hell am I? And the more and more I looked around, the more I realized that I was in a thick crowd of some very serious cyclists.

So, you can imagine my state of mind when not two minutes after we got our tent set up, tornado sirens started blaring indicating a tornado was in the area and we all needed to take cover. My house was a tent. I wanted to shit myself!

Oh! And five minutes before that? A stealth bomber was circling our campsite. Talk about a surreal moment! I'm pretty sure I had forgotten my own name at this point and could only foam up a few spit bubbles.

And while we all filed under this busted ass covered deck for "our shelter" (tornado sirens blazing) - are you effing kidding me?! - we were calmly briefed about tomorrow's ride into the next town. No one seemed to flinch about the funnel-shaped cloud in the background. I was deperately scanning the crowd for Ashton Kutcher popping up and screaming, "You've been punk'd!" but he never showed and the rest of the pro-cycling team didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest.

Did I mention that my bike was still in a box, on the front lawn, completely disassembled, with many tiny parts, and I had never even learned to pump my own tires?!  Someone needed to hold me, sheild me, sweep me away from this evil doom and gloom! But I was there all by myself. It was clear that I was in WAY over my head!

Road trip to Davenport from St. Louie!

I should actually blog about RAGBRAI before I forget all the fun stuff.  My problem is that I hate my blog right now.  Pretty much because Tony died and I didn't want to ever admit that by writing it down... sort of like a strike on moving forward with my life since I never wanted to live without him. 

But, maybe I can try to write about Iowa since I've at least acknowledged the elephant in the blogroom.

Wow, Iowa was such a life experience!  I expected it to be something that I would always remember and hoped that I might walk away from it feeling accomplished, which I did, but in a whole different way than I ever would have expected.

So, I flew into St. Louis to meet up with Katie.  I had never been there so I was pretty excited to see what the town was like and also of course, to catch a glimpse of the "gateway to the West" - the arch.

We pigged out on sushi and tried to fully appreciate one of our last nights falling asleep on actual beds with air-conditioning.  We got up early and got massages before road-tripping it up Route 66 to Davenport. 

The tri-cities were tiny!  We stayed at a flea bag hotel that night just because it was only one of two hotels in the entire city and the other one was worse.  It was great though because we met a portion of the Pedaling for Parkinsons team there that night and all hung out in the lobby chatting it up and chowing down on some pizza.  It was awesome just being able to experience such a different part of the country.

Trip to Jacksonville!