I strive for mediocrity

My life goes in a pattern. I try something, I fall in love with it, I eat, sleep and breathe it but then my interest wanes so I move on to the next thing.

In the time that I focus on the task at hand I learn quickly. I learn enough to be good at it. But I always feel like I hit a ceiling whereby any further effort will be for naught. I never get to great.

Thankfully this is never the case with the important things in life just the hobbies. Over the years I have tried figure skating, horseback riding, indoor climbing, photography and most recently running.

I quit figure skating after six years of hard work. In that time I made great progress. I started at a late age and was always behind the girls my own age but that didn't bother me at all. I made great strides at closing the gap in that short time and that made me feel good.

A few years later my parents got me a horse (yes, I may have been a tad spoiled, why do you ask?) and I began taking lessons. I loved it. It was like coming home because I had something new to learn and strive for. It filled a void that skating had left in my life. Again, I lived the sport, spending hours riding, practicing, reading about it and traveling to local clinics to learn from the experts.

Then University and that whole career thing that follows got in the way and I said good bye to my horse. Then came the kids and the change of carreer.

I still tell myself that someday I will ride again but the truth is I likely won't because new hobbies and passions have taken over. There is only so much time in the day.



It does give me pause to wonder though if maybe I am satisfied to be mediocre at everything I try and once I achieve that, my attention span is maxed out and I move on to the next thing.

But at the same time, I have no regrets about the path my life has taken. Each activity I have participated in has taught me something invaluable. I wouldn't be who I am today if I had not been passionate about each one.

I do wonder though where I will be in five years. Will I still be running? Will I still be trying to improve my photography skills?



Only time will tell.

Harvest on the Prairies

Today, I am on Canada Moms Blog remembering my time as a child during harvest on the farm.
Somehow I think it was a simplier time, a simplier life, or maybe it was the fact that I was a kid.

Or the rose coloured glasses I like to wear.

Micro or Macro

I am walking a balance beam and I have fallen off the ruddy thing so many times I am starting to have bruises upon bruises. Just when I feel like I've got my balance something comes flying at me warp 8 and knocks me clear off the beam into a pile of, ahem, you know what.

Today's post will discuss micro vs. macro management of my eight year old's responsibilities.

I know, those of you with toddlers are going, what responsibilities could he possibly have.



He's in grade three and he is also taking a group piano class. That means that daily there is practicing and homework from music and sometimes there is homework from school.

I know, doesn't sound like a big deal, does it?
Um. Well. He's eight. He's at school all day learning and having fun. What do you think the last thing he wants to do when he's at home is?

I'll take piano practicing for $1,000 Alex. Ding, ding, ding!



This week I waffled between micro managing which coincidentally enough is very much like nagging and macro managing which also went along the lines of nagging but with less intensity. Have I mentioned that I am very type A? Not doing what the teacher tells you is like nails on a chalkboard to me.

It won't surprise you that neither approach was very successful.



Next week I will try throwing popcorn at his head until he practices. It just might work, he loathes popcorn.

And the blog almost imploded

Some of you saw. Some of you asked what is going on. Has Kami gone off the rocker, once and for all? Jay asked if I knew I was causing a fuss when he saw I had 15 comments to my Facebook status that read:

"I am almost 99% certain I will be taking a blogging break and a twitter break and a FB break. And it might not be temporary."

I also Twittered the very same, because, you know, I had to cover all social media bases. Wait a minute, I missed My Space. CRAP. Oh yeah, I don't have a My Space. Whew.


And you thought I wasn't dramatic. Showed you didn't I?

What caused me to have this feeling of leaving cyberspace behind? I honestly don't know but I think it might have had to do with my reaction to a friend's news that she was expecting a baby. I may have patted her belly (yes, yes, I did and I am still as mortified as I was 1.2 second after I did it) and blurted out in surprise (because I am an idiot) that I thought she had a little belly the last time I saw her and that I was so hoping that she was. I won't go into details but this is something that I have prayed would happen for her and her husband for a year now. To say they deserve this baby is an understatement.

GAH. It still makes me feel sick inside. On what planet is that a good way to react?

You might be wondering why something I said out loud to a real life friend would make me want to turn my back on this on-line world. I know I am.

I haven't entirely figured it out but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I do things like this more frequently than I care to mention and spending time here rather than in the real world is not helping that fact.

I am going out on a limb here.

But at least I gave my friend something to talk about. I mean I would be ranting about this weird friend who not only patted my belly, MY BELLY, like it's now public property because it's growing a baby and then told me I had a belly two months ago. Come to think of it, that would make a funny blog post wouldn't it?

See? The fact that I am thinking about it terms of blog post means that I am not ready to give up this blog. I need an outlet to express some of the stuff (fluff?) that swirls aimlessly around in the void that is my mind. If not here, where else? Facebook and Twitter updates don't provide the space and do you really want me to call you all and leave a voice message? Equally undesirable are mass emails, I am certain. Do I have your email? Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I have been spewing on here for three and half years and honestly this is the first time I have considered shutting it down. And really, when I think about it, shutting it down would be like cutting off an arm.

This is part of me.

Sometimes maybe it's too much, sometimes maybe it's just the right amount.

But whatever it is, it's me.

Now if I could just learn myself how to shut my mouth and keep my hands to myself all would be right in the world.

(And help me out, do I apologize for being such an idiot to my friend, or put my head in the sand and hope she's already forgotten?)

Time always makes me more rational

Last week, I was an irrational mess over Kamden's Kindergarten muteness. But as always, expressing my fears and frustrations here is like therapy (only MUCH cheaper) and I am much more rational about it now.

Aparently I am obsessed with it though as I also wrote a post about it over at Canada Moms Blog.

What I neglected to mention last week was that he LOVES Kindergarten. So while he may struggle to communicate verbally there, he is particpating in every other aspect. It's all about perspective and today, I have much more.

Maybe I should rename this site? But the name Cheaper Than Therapy is already taken so we'll stick with Khlopchyk. It's more fun to say too.

CLOP-chick.

Maybe I should write a theme song that would play when you all click over here, because I know how much we all love that?

Back to regularly scheduled programming, also known as the to do list I don't want to do. It's an I don't want to do it list.

Heh.

Why do kids have to inherit their parent's bad characteristics?

I am going to make a very personal revelation here, one that may surprise you, though not if you know me in real life. You will, however, most likely be extremely grateful to know it's not about a) my health/mood/depression issues or b) running. I saw you do a fist pump, by the way.

Anyway, back to me. I am socially inept. Always have been and dare think that I probably always will be. I am fine with people I know. People I don't know, I am terrible. I try really hard to avoid talking to them by avoiding all eye contact.

Yes, I am ridiculous. I am fully aware of it. Yet, somehow I keep right on doing it.

What I want to know is why do my kids have to not only inherit my bad characteristics but the nth degree?



This is my crazy Kamo, the one we call rubber boy. The one who is fearless and runs with his eyes closed, into a fence, of course.

Except that now he is no longer fearless. He now has so much fear that he can't talk at school. He tells me he tries but he just can't.

It breaks my heart and I so get it. I was there, though not to that extent. I would talk only when ABSOLUTELY necessary but I would speak.

So far after more than a dozen days at school, I could likely count on two hands the number of words he has spoken (quietly). These spoken only when asked direct questions by the teacher. He has yet to speak to another kid in his class.

My baby is going to have no friends not to mention having to repeat Kindergarten because the teacher will be unable to assess his progress.. H-ello anxiety attack, how nice to meet you.

And that's not where the social skills go awry. Oh no. We need more to ice this cake.

The event that adds the final finesse to my nomination application for Worst Mother of the Year (been working on this one for oh, about 8 years, thankyouverymuch, occurred the other night. I was planning on putting Kamden in Tae Kwon Do and his buddy was starting a class that night. I asked Kamden if he would like to go and check it out to see what it was like. Yes, he replied and then said to his buddy, "Then I can see you for even more time!"

So we drive two cars over there (I had to scoot off to my Pilates class after) and walk into the foyer beside the gym where the class has already begun. He freezes and won't even take his shoes off. I try to gently urge him in telling him I will come with him. He refuses to even let me take off his shoes, even when I assured him I would go in with him and stay until he was comfortable.

I lost it.

Fine, let's go home, I am not fighting with you to make you try something fun that I know you will love.

Home we go. He cries. I try to listen to the music. I am extremely mature and rational, did I mention that?

Eventually I calmed down and Jay pointed out what should have been ridiculously obvious to me. We did not prepare him at all for what the scene would be like when we arrived. The class was about 30 people all lined up in a gym doing the warm up moves TOGETHER. Kamden is five. He's little. There were many adults in the group as well as older kids.

Now that I think back on it, I would have been a bit frightened to go in too. Thankfully he saved me the trouble.

This parenting gig has a steep learning curve and I might need medication to survive the climb.

Yet another running post

(from my Mom's garden, I can't resist sunflowers these days, they just make me happy - thanks Mom!)

This weekend, as I mentioned in my last post (would someone tell me to get a grip already, enough with the wallowing in self pity) that we, as in Jay and I, were running a relay this past weekend. Some people go to church on Sunday mornings, we run (don't judge until you've run a mile in our shoes).

The relay distance was a full marthon distance of 26 miles or 42.2 km split five ways. Terry-Lyn, Jay's boss's wife (say that 5 times fast) ran the first 7 km leg in a lightening fast 37 min. Jay and I were waiting at the first exchange zone so she could pass the timing chip off to me. We almost missed her! Thank goodness Jay saw her and I yelled. Here we are passing the baton (figuratively of course, it was actually a velcro timing chip).



I feel bad for any one behind me when this picture was taken but on the other hand, it is my best side. And I was off. And everyone passed me again. (Warning, I am my own very worst critic) But this time I was only running 10.5 km not 21.1 km. The people passing me where either doing 21.1km or 42.2 km. Me and a turtle have a lot in common. I finished my leg in 1 hour 5 min and 27 sec. EXACTLY the same pace that I ran the first 10km of my half marathon. EXCUSE me, but can someone tell me how in the world I did 11 more km after that?

Anyway, I passed the baton to Jay, who the previous day had come down with the cold from HELL. He went to bed at 8pm with a raging fever the night before his first race. I was shaking in my boots thinking I might have to run his leg too. That would mean I was running the equivalent to a half marathon. WITHOUT training for a half marathon.

Needless to say I was overjoyed when he woke up felling 75% better.

He ran his 11.5 km in 1 hour and 1 min and some seconds for change. Yes, that's right, he ran 1 km farther than me in 3 min less. But I am not dwelling on that (okay, okay, so maybe I have told everyone who will listen about it, whatever) because I am so damn proud of him. He is amazing and this just further proves it. A bad cold and he has a personal best!



Next up it was Jen's turn. She did a great recap of the race over at her site too, go check it out and you will see my very hot legs (yes that was sarcasm). She ran her leg in 1 hour and 6 min and change. A good 6 min faster than she and I did it together a mere 6 days before. I am so proud of her! She has gone from not running a stitch this spring to finishing a 9.5km race. GO JEN! Next up is our 5km race (see button on top right to donate!).



Here is Jen coming in to pass off to the last runner, Kent, Jay's boss. Poor girl was hot and tired and almost ran right by me as I was snapping away on my camera. I believe I reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her in!

And off went Kent on the last leg.





We all met up at the end to run across the finish together. Unfortunately we have no photos because they require your first born as a small payment to purchase the ones taken by the professional photographer. No thanks, I have become quite attached to Jack.

A big thank you to my Mom who came and took care of the boys while we ran, it is much appreciated Mom and so good to have you around!

This racing thing is quite fun, I might keep it up.