The Day Before College

Today feels like it is the day before the first day of the rest of my life. & literally, it is. Tomorrow is my very first day of college. This is a day that was often in question as to whether or not it would ever actually happen. 


Growing up, all I really wanted to do was be a wife. When I was 11 years old, I went to the wedding of a friend of mine & was utterly changed  to my core. It was one of the single most powerful experiences I'd ever had. It was what kicked me from childhood into adolescence & what refocused my brain & heart & all of my dreams. Something about seeing my friend all dressed up in white, walking down a long aisle to a man that adored her, captured me. From age 11 until 18, when I was finally the girl all dressed in white, walking down an aisle to a man that adored me, I was singleminded in wanting nothing but becoming a wife. College was literally never a consideration for me.  


Almost 8 years after I said 'I do', my focus has changed. I've been a wife for almost a decade now & I have three children. It didn't take long after I became Mrs. H. to discover that being a wife was not/could not be a singularly fulfilling life purpose. Because I was literally a teen wife, all of my peers were not married, but in school, getting higher educations. It wasn't so much a case of the grass being greener on the other side as much as it was a realization that I would be a better Heidi with an education. It mattered to my identity & to me as a wife & mother that I accomplish more than just becoming 'one flesh' with someone else. 


There were many obstacles that needed overcoming, many experiences that needed having before I got to this day, The Day Before College. First, I had to figure out what the heck I even wanted to do besides being someone's Mrs. It was an incredibly involved process of discovering who I was. My father loved me with every fiber, but he wasn't exactly attentive to me, so I just kind of floated about as a kid & teen. I never had anyone telling me, "You're good at this." or, "You're smart. Write more.". It seems a bit too simple, but I really had no other desire than to be someone's wife. I never thought about how smart I was, or that I was always, even from a very early age, intensely interested in interior design & fashion. It never occurred to me that I had an ability in anything. My whole world orbited the idea/fantasy of being the best wife since Esther. One can imagine that when I finally landed on the idea of focusing on interior design or fashion as a career for myself, it added another desperately needed & essential dimension  to me & my identity. I remember feeling empowered. It was at once bitter & sweet.


The bitter of my added dimension harkened back to never being told that I was smart. My intelligence was a non-issue, both to me & to my parents. I had an unconventional school career in that I attended public school through the 8th grade & then was home schooled for all of high school. There were a couple of people in my life who made some pretty damaging comments about my abilities which sort of seeped into my brain as truth. I didn't have anyone, like a parent, to go back to after being told something like, "You should be glad you have no talent..." who could help me process through & refute such untruths. To my young mind, there wasn't anything reason not to believe what I heard, so I just believed it. Also, because I didn't have big dreams for Harvard or even the local community college, it didn't really bother me that I might not be all that smart. Who needs brains to be a good wife? 


But much like other negative or traumatizing experiences, those words were like little bombs that were planted, waiting until my identity-crisis ridden early twenties to detonate. It wasn't until I seriously started to think about going to college that huge waves of insecurity over not being smart enough hit me, paralyzing me. I had a mentality of, "Everyone else is smart enough for college. Just not me. Oh well." When I would talk of going to college, I would almost speak of  it as a theory. Indeed, I was 21 years old before someone ever told me that I was actually intelligent (I word I just had to spellcheck, HA!) It simply blew. me. away. The dude, who himself had his PhD, had read something I'd written & from that thought I had my masters in writing. I thought he was joking. 


He said, "No, seriously." 


I said, "No. Seriously."


He said, "Well do you have your bachelors?"


I laughed.  He didn't. 


I stumbled over my words, at first embarrassed as I realized he was serious, & then meekly stated that I'd never some much as earned a single credit hour. He told me in all seriousness that I was intelligent. I was in a daze. 


It was an idea that I found really hard to accept. I think I must be naturally attracted to who I consider incredibly intelligent people, because all of my best friends are off the charts in terms of brain power-- one is in her third year of Law School, another graduated from UT with highest honors, & the other is incredibly clever & quick whited. My husband also has brains coming out the wazoo. I'd always kind of regarded myself as the little kid sitting at the feet of these intellectual giants just basking in their smarty-pants shadow. They were who I called the 'i' word, something I thought was up there with being called doctor. It took me a bit before I would even admit to them that this man had called me smart. They all know him & know he's legit. I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't be making a fool out of myself by calling myself smart. I also REALLY didn't want to come off as boastful, especially since I barely believed that I could be mistaken for someone with such a high education. 


Thankfully, it seems I'm also really attracted to incredibly kind & supportive people, because once I finally shared my experience with them, all of them affirmed me in the idea that, yes, I am smart & 100% capable of going to college & doing very well. 


It's been a few years since then. I've been busy doing other things, like staying home with my pre-school aged kids & having another baby just to spice things up. My youngest is now almost two & with the other two in school everyday of the week, it felt like now was a perfect time to pull the trigger & go to college. 


My plan is to get my core classes, about 30 hours, out of the way at ACC & then transfer to a four year university to finish up a degree in interior design. I'm taking four classes, 12 credit hours, this first semester, so I'm technically full-time. My dear friend will be nanning River for me while I'm at class two days a week, & Mrs W., or Fanny as she's more fittingly called by us, will have River all day on Wednesday so I can have one full day of quiet, uninterrupted study time. I am seriously blessed beyond words. It all feels like confirmation that this is the right time. I'm ready. 

Rockin' The Oomph

Yesterday I got the most wonderful package in the mail direct from Rebecca at Rock Oomph, one of my all time favorite style blogs. About a month ago I signed up for an awesome giveaway she was having, & lo, I WON!

Cue Heidi happy dancing.

Avert your eyes, it was worrisome, the moves I was making.

So anyNoMoreScaryDancingway, when I opened my mailbox yesterday, it was stuffed full of my prize plus a couple other wonderful things that I'll be blogging about in the very near future. My outfit, which I'd already picked out & was wearing, was inspired by Rebecca's edgy style, so as soon as I got the beautiful necklace, bracelet & belt out of their packaging, I put them on right away. It was the most brilliant coincidence that I would wear something inspired by Rebecca & then get her giveaway in the mail on the same day! I did save the belt for another day, but the above is what I wore yesterday. I LOVE IT!

I need to say that Rebecca went above & beyond in her generosity towards me & I was flying pretty high yesterday because of it. There's almost nothing as wonderful as kindness; it's effects on people are unexpectedly great & far reaching. I'm deeply impressed by the kindness of almost-strangers towards me & purpose to fully pay it forward when the opportunity presents itself. The pieces Rebecca sent me are worn with deep gratitude & are prized as very meaningful.

& now I'm going to go put Britney Spears' new song 'Till The World Ends" on repeat & dance my way through cleaning the kitchen. Best way to do, I say!

That Time I Got Called A Slut

So I dragging myself out of bed yesterday morning & got fueled & ready for my long run. Ezekiel English muffin & peanut butter with a Nalgene full of pure, delicious water. I headed out the door & left Ed & the kids & my messy house behind to worry about themselves. I hit the trails at about 11am at my favorite place to run & then proceeded to totally run myself into the ground. Sucky. It was totally unintentional, & there are lots of reasons why yesterday's run didn't go well (it's now pretty much too hot to run at 11am in Austin, I listened more to the beat of my music than my body, ect, ect), but the cold hard facts are that something I was really looking forward to doing, turned out badly. I really hate it when that happens.
So by the time I got to Target, a planned post-run stop to get a few things, I was feeling pretty low. I walk in, still sweaty, still decked out in full running gear & still self-talking my way back from the edge because my run went badly. I head right to the cafe for some chow. I ordered their yummy flat bread sandwich & while doing so, couldn't help but notice that the older cashier lady was full-on checking me out. She had short-ish hair & no makeup, but other than her checking me out big time, my gay-dar wasn't signaling at all. I figured that she must be deep in thought about when it would be time to change the syrup in the icee machine behind me & that's why she was staring me down. I get my drink, sit down to wait for my sandwich when she speaks,

"Do you go to Local Highschool?"
"Nope."
"Oh, where do you go."
"Uh, I don't. & I didn't grow up in Texas, so I didn't go to any other schools here."

Conversation over. Minutes pass & instead of being offended that I was mistaken for a highschooler or even worrying that maybe I was dressed too young for my age (I mean, come on, running gear is generally pretty age-neutral) I was flattered that maybe the still glistening sweat on my face took 8 years off me. All of the sudden there's my food & the lady again. She pulls up a seat at my table & sits down to chat. Um, ok. I can roll with this. & then she says this little gem,

"So are you hear for the Texas Relays?"
BEAMING, I giggle out "No! But my friend was..."

Y'all!!!! She thought that per the way I was dressed & how fit I looked that I could have possibly been here for the TEXAS RELAYS!!!!!! This is epic to me because I often wonder (as I assume other runners do) if I look like a real runner. At that moment, having just come from a pretty awful run & feeling decidedly not-runnerish, I really needed to have something so wonderful assumed about me.

After that, she asked me if I was in school (no), worked (nope), what then (three kids, stay at home), & my flat bread sandwich was devoured over a friendly chit-chat with an older Target employee who had no idea that she made my day.

But then, a little later, while looking at the purses, a cloud attempted to roll over my newly made day & ruin it all.

I was innocently minding my own business over an adorable gray purse when another older lady browsing the purses strolled up next to me, stopped, looked me up & down in my running outfit (bright yellow shoes, tv-sized running watch, visor, hand-me-down Baylor running shirt that Chick gave me & THESE Nike compression shorts) & then with a grumpy old face, mutters, "Slut."

I starred at her in absolute disbelief. Certainly I hadn't heard what I think I just heard her say. But no. She stood there, face twisted in judgment, & we starred each other down. Then she slowly walked away.

SURE. My shorts are short & tight. But they're running shorts. & whats more, it's not like I was wearing those shorts for a quick run out to the store to grab some crackers & a desperate piece of ass!! I had just come from running as was obvious from EVERYTHING ELSE I WAS WEARING including SWEAT!

Because I was so dumbfounded by having just heard what I think I heard come out of the mouth of a middle aged woman directed at me, I didn't respond. I just could. not. believe. she. called. me. that.


& now I rant.


Why is it that short, tight, running shorts worn by someone who was obviously wearing them for their purpose, would garner such a comment from someone, when (assume with me here people, for the sake of argument) wearing a bikini, or even a tankini wouldn't? I mean, short & tight though they may be, they are much more ass-covering than a bikini bottom!! & most people don't blink an eye at women wearing bikini bottoms, whether with a bikini top or tankini. I personally know someone, for instance, who seems to have a double standard on this very issue. When pressed, she admitted that she thinks it would still be more modest to run in a sports bra & regular running shorts than in a shirt & the compression shorts I was wearing. & this coming from someone who wears a bikini during the summer & who also sports a bikini-cut bottom one-piece when trying to be more "modest" at the pool.


DUH-OUBLE STANDARD!!!


Again, I honest to goodness, swearsies, that I do not wear ANY of my running clothes for anything other then to run in (I have a weird thing about those clothes being sacred for their purpose), so that I am always properly & purposefully dressed. If you catch me dressed in running clothes, you can bet cashmoney that I'm either about to run, have run or am running.


One could certainly & successfully, even rightfully argue that my wee compression shorts are less modest than regular Nike trainers, & that with the viable option of wearing more modest shorts, I should. But I could also argue that bikini bottoms on swimsuits bare a ton more skin than my compression shorts & are therefore less modest. I could also argue that alternatives can be found to bikini bottoms & should be worn instead. Like this little gem: (oh yes, I know people who wear stuff like this to swim in. I'm not shitting you.)

I guess that's why it was more dumbfounding that anything else that a jaded older woman at Target called me a slut. I actually felt sorry for her. (oh yes, I'm using the pity-tactic) What a small, sad life she must lead.

Kidding.

Okay, maybe not.

But in all seriousness, I am secure in my moral ground. I know I'm not a slut & I know that wearing those shorts to run in doesn't make me a slut. Wearing those certain compression shorts was actually a goal of mine to reach both as a runner & for myself personally. I worked my ass of to be fit enough to wear them & now I am. & so now I shall. I see no difference in my having the goal to want to wear those as another woman has a goal to be fit enough to wear a bikini. Yet somehow.... angry judging words. The moral of this story is if you're going to call someone a slut, don't. Just don't. & also, maybe check yourself for double standards. They may be showing & that's just unfortunate.

You Can't Be Here Looking....

Ed is sitting next to me while I type this. I told him to go away because he's crimping my blogging style, but there he continues to sit... chomping away on potato chips.

& that's what I've come to blog about. Ed & his effing potato chips. Or his effing cherry covered pretzels. Or his effing slow-simmered pulled pork tacos. Oh my, slow-simmered pulled pork tacos. I made them so I should know that they're delicious. But I also ate them HOURS ago when it was dinner & now that Ed is home from his late-late class, he's hungry & is busting out the snacks & attempting to bust my gut, too.



Editors Note {because "editor" sounds fancy, & I'm wearing my fancy pants tonight, so Editor it is. Or I am. Whatever.}  I lied. Ed's potato chips aren't actually what I came to blog about. There is another blog entry brewing, one which I was working on when I was interrupted by Ed coming home from school. Ed would like to take over the computer/tv now (we combined them) to watch a movie. Hence him sitting next to me. So the post is POSTponed. Hearty-har-har.)

Oh My Freakin' Gawd.

This is what Audrey looked like when she got off the bus today:

You might be asking yourself, "What the G-D kinda outfit is that?" & my answer to you is: Observe. Her dress is on backwards & because she dressed herself this morning, she miss-buttoned it. 


Epically. 


& while I hope y'all will get a chuckle out of this, I have to admit that I did not. In fact, this straight up pissed me off. Please, allow me a wee rant. 


Firstly, POOR AUDREY! She must have been so uncomfortable all day! AGGGGHHH!


Secondly, where was Ed?! Ed is responsible for getting the kids up in the mornings, dressing them, feeding them & seeing them off to the bus. Per-usual, I pick out the kids outfits the night before as to avoid such tragic scenes as I was met with one day when Sis jumped off the bus in faded red heart tights & a blue & green stripped pj top. 


Yeah. That's all she was wearing. 


Sister looked like she'd rolled out of the Goodwill reject pile. That's what happens when Ed &/or Audrey are left to fend for themselves in the outfit department. My mouth literally dropped open when she got off the bus. It was a very polarizing experience for me, considering that I am Heidi. So as to prevent something like that from ever happening again, Ed & I agreed that we'd make it easy on everyone & I'd lay out the kids outfits for the next day. 


You'd think this would solve the problem, but APPARENTLY not! Observe again: 

Is it too much to say I almost cried? I'm being serious here. Instantly upon seeing this, visions of her teacher judging my kid with a wicked side eye & a big, "WTF?!" swarmed my head. Not to mention my playing the scene this morning in my head-- Ed making breakfast, finding backpacks, shoes, jackets, & never once noticing something so glaringly obvious that it could have reached up & smacked him in the face. Also, I get that he's a boy & is also almost blind when it comes to observing details about things he doesn't give a shit, but her teacher isn't a boy. & I'm SURE Audrey didn't wear her jacket all day. I'm sure that her teacher could figure out that Audrey miss buttoned her dress this morning & that it would probably be kind to AUDREY to fix it for her. 


But no. Cue me seething. 


It's not that I think it's my kid's teacher's responsibility to make sure my child is properly dressed at all, but really?! This is ridiculous! 


I'm mortified & feel guilty. I feel like Audrey walking out of the house looking so unkempt means that I'm a bad Mommy. I worry that Audrey looking sloppy will cause other kids at school to be mean to her & I want to prevent that as much as I can-- I suffered horribly as a kid because we were poor & my clothes were less than awesome. I'm not talking about outfitting my kid in the best of the best, name brand, hottest trends, but just making sure that there is no apparent reason for other kids to pick on her. I'm upset with Ed for not noticing & thusly thrusting her directly onto the path of possible bullying that I was trying to keep her off of & lastly, I feel like her teacher was a jerk for not helping Audrey. I feel like either her teacher is excessively in support of letting kids make & own their own choices (ie, she dressed herself this way, she doesn't mind, why change it?) or that she was trying to make a point that Audrey was badly dressed by not helping the situation. 


Both of those assumptions, I'm sure, are wrong. But right now they feel right & I feel sad about the whole mess. 


Ugh, someone get me a fry-pan to hit the hubby over the head with & also the world's tiniest violin to play. :( 

Dog Days Are Over

Jumping right back in.... here's a bit of what's been up with me lately, but in picture form. Enjoy! 

Would you look at this boy? Going for a swing last weekend. I love his leggings.

I had many a cold runs over the winter. Even though it really didn't snow here, it got COLD. My coldest run was 21 degrees with an even colder wind chill & strong winds. That was the day wherein I earned extra Runner's Cred.

The day after Christmas my closest friends & I ran a 5k. It was my first & I kicked it's tushie, finishing in 25:10. I couldn't have done it without my running mentor/inspiration Chick, who runs for Baylor, pacing me. She's the one in the middle.

This is the scene that I walked in a found in my kids bathroom. This is also the scene that almost killed me due to laughing my ass off. My oldest, Clay, decided to show Audrey what he thought of her cool new suction toothbrush by sticking it to the inside of the toilet. I'm serious-- I was crying. I may have even thanked Clay for giving me such a good laugh. He did have to apologize to Audrey, though. Yeah, that too.

Oh yes, this scene also left me gasping for air. Noooo, River hadn't been bludgeoned...  well, maybe he had, but it was with a soft felt tip purple marker. Ever the artist, Audrey thought River's head the perfect canvas for some serious abstract art. River's beautiful platinum blonde hair was purple. It rocked. 

A tasty pizza I made. I've been cooking up a store over here at Chez Heidi.

The best (& ONLY) pre-Half-Marathon picture of me. NERVOUS!

But I did it. & I did it in 2:06, not 2:11. Just to clarify...

B was in from Cali & caught my big race. It was awesome to have her there.

& of course Chick!! What would a race be without her!

 

Knock, Knock, Who's There?

Well, it's been a while. I almost feel shy coming back to my blog. I'm inching in the door, sorta unsure. Do I dare show my face here after such a long absence? I mean, it is my blog, but dude, it's been forever! For shame.

Right. So I feel like I want to take one very deep breath & within that one breath spew out all the news about me & my own that has taken place since... November. Will y'all put up with one gigantic update of a blog & allow me to return to a normal pace of blogging? I hope so, because it sure feels good to be back.

Firstly, my blogging came to a fairly abrupt end with the discontinuation of our internet service. We just couldn't pay that bill. I know the internet bill seems like such small beans, but when you haven't got many beans to begin with, the internet is the first thing to turn to fat & get trimmed. It's absolutely crazy to think about having internet as being a luxury. But that's the world my family & I have been living in these last several months. It's been a slim existence for us & although I've technically had my phone with which to blog (well, sometimes not-- sometimes it'd get extra, extra slim around my parts & the phone became fat, too) I just didn't have it within me to tap out posts, especially not about how hard my life was at that moment.

& it's been hard. Let's get real. There were a couple awful points during Christmastime where everything that wasn't bolted down was pawned. & that was to pay rent, not buy presents. Thank God for family & very generous friends. Our kids were none the wiser that they were thisclose to a Charlie Brown Christmas.

When I was about five, I had a very vivid dream about going to an ice cream shop & getting the ice cream cone of my dreams. My gosh, I can still remember this dream like I just woke up from it. Everything about the dream was so real, & I was in.heaven. The climax of my dream was finally getting my hands on the ice cream cone, bringing it to my mouth & taking a huge lick of it. Except at the very moment I licked it, I woke up. I'd awaken myself because in my sleep I was literally holding my arm out, hand around the cone, bringing it to my mouth & then liiiiiiick!

Except there was nothing there to lick. & that's what woke me up.

I can still remember the exceeding disappointment I felt. Talk about crushed dreams-- or hope deferred. It was so awful & I remember hoping very much that I hadn't just woken up, but the sinking feeling of reality wouldn't quit--

Yes, I was awake. In the middle of the night. In bed. No ice cream cone. Broken heart.

Those feelings are pretty much what Ed & I lived through except x100 in the last several months. On two different occasions, literally the day before we were to receive either expected financial aid or scheduled payment for jobs/taxes, our expectations & hope were shattered into a million little pieces because of WHATEVER. & this wouldn't have been so horrible, only that was all we had coming to us & there was nothing coming to us from any other place. It felt like waking up in the dark bedroom with no ice cream. Except it was intense frustration, panic & stress that we felt, as well as a general heart-sickness.

There is no skin on our teeth left.

Thankfully, eventually, things have loosened up a bit with part-time jobs & financial aid finally coming through & we've been able to put on a few pounds as it were. I don't really feel comfortable sharing much more, but I wanted to share this bit. I do appreciate the wonderful emails of support I've gotten from y'all over the last couple of months. It makes my heart pop that perfect strangers care & show it. Y'all are amazing people, you'll never know.