Gymnastics, Gymnastees, Gymnicetics

I am well aware of the fact that the majority of the population doesn't get gymnastics.  I am well aware that the majority of my friends don't get gymnastics.  I am also well aware of the fact that I cannot ever make someone understand my passion for this sport.  Only those people who have a true passion for something - anything - can truly understand.  If I could, I would live and breathe the sport. If I could spend my life in the gym - minus the time that I want/need for my family - I would. 

I don't think most people understand the benefits of the sport and the work those kids do and how unforgiving it is.  I know a lot of people who read this aren't going to have a clue about what I'm talking about and I will try to explain.  I think that gymnastics is probably one of the absolute most unforgiving sports out there - save maybe figure skating - and I still think gymnastics is worse.  This morning, while most of you were sleeping, a highly talented, intelligent, all around amazing young woman from DeWitt, Michigan won gold at the World Championships for All Around.  Jordyn is 16 years old.  Jordyn won by .05.  That's not much. 

I had the blessing of coaching in the same gym where Jordyn normally trains.  I had the privilege of watching her go from a little tiny mass of muscle at 9 years old when I first saw her to the amazing young woman she is now.  But I digress, this blog isn't about Jordyn (although you would all do well to either yahoo or google search her and read about her).

I was talking about it being unforgiving.  If you haven't seen the movie Stick It, you should rent it.  It's a cute movie and points out some of the deductions the girls get in competition.  For example, the bra strap hanging out, or not hitting a perfect handstand while swinging around the bars, or stepping out of bounds on floor.  You also have no idea the pain these kids go through.  Try running full speed at a vaulting table only to miss the spring board and smash into the table instead of going over it.  How about doing a simple skill on beam like a split jump and missing the landing so that you end up "crotching" the beam. Let's not forget their hands - the endless bleeding blisters from swinging around the bars and the face plants on the mat when you miss the bar after a release move.

Out of all of that (and so much more....the wrist bone sticking out of your arm after missing the beam on a backhandspring and the broken ankle for landing a tumbling pass wrong) arises the most amazing group of kids - young adults - that you will ever come across.  These kids define discipline and respect.  Do they think they are better than you?  Maybe a chosen few of them, but for the most part, these kids are humble. 

I watch some of the school sports practices on occasion and want to laugh.  All of the parents bitching that "these kids are only 4th/5th graders" or there's no need to push yet, they're only 13 makes me roll my eyes.  I had 5 and 6 year olds busting their asses and crying their eyes out in the gym.  Did their parents bitch?  No.  Why?  Discipline and respect.  If any of my kids had EVER spoken to me the way I hear these kids in (insert sport here) soccer, football, basketball, baseball, cross country, track, volleyball, cheerleading talk to their coaches, I can promise you, they would only do it once. 

Maybe that's part of the reason I keep going back to the gym - well, other than the fact that I absolutely love it - I like the discipline and respect.  I don't ever have to worry about obnoxious snotty kids or whiney parents. 

Bottom line - I love gymnastics (and my all time favorite gym in the world is Twistars) and I love every last one of the gymnasts - past and present.

Damn Tuesdays.

I think it's pretty common knowledge that I hate Tuesdays.  If I could skip them altogether, I would.  It's a wasted day that generally leaves me wanting to cause people great bodily harm.  Today is no exception.  The damn shame is, there's not really a good reason for me to be crabby today.  I just am - it's like the Tuesday curse.  At least at this point I can sort of laugh about it.  So, some of you may know that I have had a bad case of the exhaustions lately.  We're not talking kind of tired - we're talking I can sleep for 10 hours and then turn around and take a nap because I'm still tired.  No, I'm not depressed.  Yes, I realize this is a symptom of depression, but I can assure you that's not my problem.  I've also been a dysfunctional water faucet....as in at any random moment I may burst into tears for no apparent reason.  Now, I am pretty sure I know what's causing both, and I will deal with it, but for now, let's focus on the exhaustion and tears, mostly because it will probably amuse you.

Last night after procrastinating on a paper that was due (of course) last night, I finally managed to take myself to bed at around 10.  Yeah, I know some of you stay up until midnight or later, but I read this study once that said people with larger more active brains need more sleep - so stick that in your pipe and smoke it, biotch!  Who's laughing now?!?!  Anyway, I went up to bed and get all cozy and as per the norm, my daughter comes flouncing in about 20  minutes later.  She tells me she's going to get up at 6:15.  Sounds ok, right?  WRONG, but there's nothing I can do about it so I rolled over and went to sleep. 

Of course, I was awakened at just after 3 this morning as my lovely daughter was sleep walking/talking again - only this time in my closet.  -___-  Frickin kids.  Got her back to sleep and I went back to sleep.  My alarm went off at 5:30.  I shut it off - as is also the norm lately since I can't seem to get enough sleep.  I got up at 6. 

If you know me, you know I am not a morning person.  I'm like a raging dragon in the morning.  It is best to leave me the hell alone until I give you the all clear.  That's why I like my mornings at home - everyone is sleeping and I have roughly 30-45 minutes to pull my shit together.  Right, so, I'm in the shower working on the getting nice process and my daughter comes in to go to the bathroom. *sigh*  Fine.  She finishes and goes downstairs.  I carry on with my morning routine only slightly perturbed.  Until she comes back to get some lotion.  Yeah, totally jacking up my routine which makes me fail in the getting nice process.  After the 3rd visit to the bathroom I gave up.  I half-assed put my make up on (read:  looks like the bride of frankenstein today) and rush to the bedroom to find clothes. 

Well, of course, nothing can go right, right?  So, I can't find what I want to wear so I pull out some of my "fat" clothes.  You know, the clothes you wear when you feel like a beached whale.  EPIC FAIL.  It's a great feeling when you put your fat clothes on and they cut off your circulation.  Right, so now I'm too fat for my fat clothes.  F.M.L.  Can you see how my day is going??

I walk downstairs to leave.  Phil notices that I am off and asks if I'm ok.  I think I sorta shook my head or something, idk, but I left.  Got in the car and decided to call him - who better to talk to when having a rough morning than the love of my life, right?  Yeah, that would have worked if he had answered his phone.  *shrugs*  I figured he was probably going to the bathroom so I gave it a few minutes.  In the meantime, a coworker/friend, shot me a text that she wasn't coming in...BOO and people were driving slower than normal.  I called Megan to see if she could get her father for me, but of course, she didn't answer either.  I called Phil about 3 more times and then walked into 7-11 to get a Mt. Dew.  HAHAHAHA, so the guy that hits on me in there ALL the time looks at me and says, "rough morning?"  He's so lucky I didn't sucker punch him.

I get back in the car and call Tracy - my friend and neighbor - to ask if she can have her boys let Phil or Megan know to call me.  Megan finally calls me and I tell her to get her dad for me.  At this point, I'm pretty irrate.  I just needed someone to talk to.  So, I snapped at Phil and hung up on him and then walked into work and had a mini-tantrum.  Thank goodness no one was here.

I'm calm(ish) now, other than the fact that I can't breathe because my fat clothes are too tight.  I could use a nice cold glass of wine, too.  And yes, I realize this blog makes me sound manic and slightly unstable, but the reality is - I probably am. 

You're welcome for your laugh for the day.

The "L" Word

Oh you know what word I'm talking about.  Love.  Is it that hard to say?  It seems now that it is a word that is either left unsaid or that is over used and not meant.  I have no problem with it.  I grew up around of a bunch of people who constantly told me they loved me.  I know that I tell my kids that I love them about 100 times per day.  No, I'm not exaggerating, I really do.  I know that when Phil and I started using the "l" word he had to get use to how often I said it.  I am a firm believer that if you truly love someone, you need to tell them.  Why?  Isn't that obvious?  You never know if you'll have another chance.

I am an incredibly complex simple girl.  Haha, yes, you read that right.  I also love with my whole heart.  If you are someone special to me, chances are you know.  If I haven't ever told you that I love you and you think you're someone special to me...you might be wrong.  I want people to know that I care.  I need those that are special to know that they have impacted my life in some way. 

I, however, cannot stand how these young kids run around telling all the girls in their class that they love them when they turn around two seconds later and tell one of their other friends how much they hate the one they just said "love you" to.  Really?  DON'T SAY IT IF YOU DON'T MEAN IT.

BUT MEAN IT WHEN YOU SAY IT.

I've experienced some tragedy.  I've held back and not told people that are special to me that I loved them.  I've stood over their caskets and said it...too late.  It's not a bad word.  Say it.  There's nothing wrong with telling a friend that you love them.  So, for those of you that have not heard it today, for those of you that I would do anything for, you know who you are....I LOVE YOU.

Prayer

Dear Lord,


So, we've had this kind of odd relationship over the past, oh I don't know, 20 years, but it sorta works for us.  Anyways, recently we've been talking more, mostly because I've been kind of, well, lost again.  It happens, I know and thanks, by the way, for the guidance.


Here's the thing, I need to ask a favor now and it's a pretty big one.  I know I ask the same basic thing pretty much every night, but this time I'm going to be a bit more specific.  I've got this friend, one of my best friend's actually, probably the best guy friend I have.  He's a bit outspoken and I jokingly call him my boyfriend and he's just a really great guy.  He loves you and his family and is the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back if it would help you out.


Anyhoo, you kind of threw him an obstacle.  We all appreciate your obstacles as we realize they make us stronger, but this one is pretty hefty and he - well all of us actually - could use your help.  Please take hold of John and his family and hold them close.  Please keep him safe and guide him through this.  Help us all to help his family through this and let them know that we love them all and will do anything in our power for them. 


Finally, I realize this is selfish and totally unfair to say and I also realize that there are many many people who have experienced far worse, but please please heal this man as he means the world to me.


Thanks.


Amen 

And it continues

It doesn't seem to matter how much I try to put up a good solid brick wall, some people still manage to break through it and hurt me.  I'm pretty good and keeping people out.  There are only a handful of people who actually really know me.  There's a reason for that.  I'm way too sensitive.  I'm a firm believer that if you let people too close, they will inevitably hurt you.  So, I keep most people at arms length.  Chances are if you think you really know me, you're wrong.  There are 3 people on the planet that I tell everything to - and that's it. 

I determined that as much as I try to bury the little girl begging for acceptance that it will never happen.  That little girl doesn't want acceptance from everyone, just that one person.  You know, the one person she will never get it from.  I see the relationship that Megan has with Phil and am jealous as hell.  What little girl doesn't want that adoring father? 

18 years have gone by since I met him for the first time.  Why it took until I was 17 to meet him and why I had to go looking for him is annoying in and of itself, but it is what it is.  The fact that over the past 18 years I have spent more time hurting because of him is ludicrous.  And just when I think that I'm ok and that nothing can hurt me, it happens again.

Why I allow this to continue happening, I don't know.  I'm obviously not as strong as I pretend to be.  There are some people who will read this and defend him.  The thing is, you can defend him until the day you die, but the bottom line is - it's bullshit.  He "loves" only those that are constantly in his face.  That's why he loves you in his own sick and demented way.  That's why he loves the youngest and the oldest two - they are around him.  The rest of us are not. 

It's funny that the ones he probably hurt the most are the ones who are for the most part at peace with it.  I'm the odd ball.  I'm the one that as hard as I try that can't get past it.  I'm the one that continues to question (like a two year old) why?  What is wrong with me?  Why am I never good enough?  I busted my ass for a while to try and make him love me.  In the end, it's never enough.

And then today - when for the first time in almost 35 years he shows up for a court hearing and speaks with my mother he never even asked how I was doing.  He didn't even think to ask about my kids - his grandkids that he hasn't seen in years - or my life.  Why?  Well, that's pretty obvious isn't it?  I still don't matter.

And, as usual, my heart breaks and I cry.

Dear Mel,

You would think that I would forget the little things.  I wonder if normal people do?  It is hard to believe that it has been two years.  There are times when I wish I could have said good-bye.  Then I remember what that's like and am glad I didn't.  I remember the last time I spoke to you.  You were still in the hospital and your voice was barely a whisper.  The thing that sticks out in my mind the most is that you were still fighting.  As weak as you sounded, you still refused to give in.  I can honestly say, you never gave in.  You did make the decision to go home and I'm glad.  As much as it hurts to say that, I'm glad you did.  I know in my heart that you are no longer in pain and that you're happy.  I think it seriously stinks that your home now is so far away from us, but it's best for you.

Two years ago today I received that dreaded text message.  Two years ago today I sat on the phone with Sally and cried.  Pretty sure I also cursed you for me leaving me to figure out how to raise "our" son.  Two years ago I ran away to Grand Haven with my sister and her boyfriend with Phil and the kids to try and escape the hurt for a few hours.  Then I hopped in the car and took that dreaded trip to Texas.

I miss you, girly!  I wish you were here.  I know in spirit you are and that you will always live in our hearts, but there are moments when I sure could use your peppy positive attitude and outlook on life.  I'm sure you are amazed and proud of Eric.  He definitely did a lot of growing up over the past couple of years.  There are still moments when I wish you were here to help me figure out how to guide him.  Not that he needs it, but it's what moms do.

I am so thankful that we went to San Diego and had that time together. Those are memories no one can take away from me and that I don't have to share. 

Rest in peace, my friend, you may be gone, but will never be forgotten.

I love you.

Love,
Jamie

Motorcycle Irony

So, most of you know I've spent years (almost 20) having issues with motorcycles.  Obviously, those of you who are friends of mine on facebook have seen I recently had a change of heart.  I find it ironic that in reading the required text for my current marketing class that the example they used had to do with Harley Davidson.  I'm going to post it here because I find it insanely interesting and so true...


"Who rides a Harley?  You might be surprised. Motorcycles are attracting a new breed of riders - older more affluent, and better educated. 'While the outlaw bad-boy biker image is what we might typically associate with Harley riders' says an analyst, 'they're just as likely to be CEOs and investment bankers.' 'You take off the leathers and the helmet and you'll never know who you'll find' says one hard-core Harley enthusiast, himself a former New York City producer. 'We're a varied lot...America, at it's very best...a melting pot.' The average Harley customer is a 47-year old male with a median household income of $82,000. Today, women make more than 12% of Harley purchases."  


It goes on for a bit and then, "The research revealed seven core customer types: adventure-loving traditionalists, sensitive pragmatists, stylish status seekers, laid-back campers, classy capitalists, cool-headed loners and cocky misfits."


Not sure where I fit in all that, but whatever.  I just thought it was funny and rather ironic that the girl who swore off bikes and now loves them is also now reading about them in a marketing class. 


Ref:  Armstrong, G., Kotler, P., 2009. Marketing. An Introduction, Ninth Edition, Prentice Hall, Inc.