So...I made music.  Like I said I wanted to.  It's simple and short, but I created it and

 am therefore a tiny bit proud of myself (along with being super self-conscious about it). 

 I will never be a Mindy Gledhill.  But, I will always be a Clarissa Gifford.  I've been in a

 funk the last several days, you know, just feeling un-fabulous because I compare myself

 to others way too much.  So, I am posting this to make me feel better about me and

 remind myself that I am OK just the way I am.



Flashback

I was able to attend a high school choir concert of two of my Young Women Tuesday night.  As I stepped into the gymnasium and listened to them perform, I was transported back to my high school choir days.  It made me a bit  nostalgic as those kinds of things always do.  It was a really entertaining and touching concert.  I enjoyed every note. 
I have been to several high school concerts since my march down the graduation aisle, but for some reason this one sent me down a different road.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I had this strange desire to go watch some old videos from 1998 of random-ness and a few performances I had done my Senior year.  My mind was swirling with memories of being on stage, making sweet harmonies and singing every single day.  But when I popped those VHS videos in, I knew immediately, I should have ignored the desire.  It was excruciating. The choir concert was laughably off-key and the whole thing was painfully embarrassing.  And it was only Doug and me that were watching.
As I watched I cringed every time I spoke, every time I sang.  I laughed at my clothes, my hair,  my teeth, my behavior and my all around dorkyness.  It was awful...but of course I kept watching.   I do realize that most people feel that way about themselves when forced to endure old home movies.   But when it's you, you think that you might just take home the prize for being the biggest loser.

There was footage of a few of my best girlfriends from school, my siblings, my mom and my (at the time) 3 year old niece (who just turned 17)!!  We were all white and nerdy.  Well, my family anyway...my friends would be Hispanic and nerdy.

It's amazing the amount of changes that have occurred over the last 13 years.  We all looked so silly and young.  I'm sure in those moments where we thought we said something funny or did something interesting we weren't thinking about how ridiculous we would seem watching it several years later. 

The conclusion that I came to was...I am grateful for the changes.   The changes in everyone...but mostly in myself.   I have caught myself having those  "if I could do it all over again" moments and wanting to go back to a simpler, less responsibility time of life.  And of course, I long for my pre-baby body.  But upon watching the tapes roll, I don't think I'll worry about that kind of stuff again.  Not that it was all consuming or anything...just fleeting moments. 

I did notice some things about myself that are very much the same.  I'm still insecure.  I don't know how many times I asked the people around me if they liked my hair after I cut about 7 inches off.  Sounds familiar.  And I still chew the insides of my cheeks.  I guess there are a few things that I still need to work on.  Oh yeah...and I am still a great big dork too!  THAT may never change.

 Although I would prefer the aging clock to slow down a little, and for some perkiness to return to certain areas...at least, for today, I am grateful for growing-up, maturing and braces.  I am also grateful for different trends in clothes and make-up.

We'll see how I feel about those things 13 years from now.

BENCHED!!

Shin splints.  2 evil words full of mean-ness and no sense of pity whatsoever.  For those who have had them, there is no explanation needed.  But, for those who haven't, there is one word that I can use to explain...P.A.I.N.

Shin splints are when the muscle on your shins starts to separate from the bone.  There are several causes...dehydration, not enough stretching, over training, bad shoes, repeated runs on hard surfaces, lack of leg strength.  And the list goes on.  Now, I'm not positive what is causing mine.  All I know is that I have them, I hate them and they are putting a kink in my training.  I tried to run through the pain on my Wednesday run, and it was almost impossible.  Actually, the only reason I kept running was because it hurt worse to walk.  I cried the whole time.  So much fun. 

I drove my aching, (engulfed in flames) legs to South Sound Running to tackle what may be one of the problems...my shoes.  The people there were super fantastic!  They watched me run in about 6 different pairs of shoes, gave me great pointers and even gave me some medicine because I was about to chop my legs off from the pain.  I hope with all hopeness that this will help!

The new digs.  They are BROOKS - Adrenaline GTS 11.  And this is what it says on the inside of the blue and brown box they came in.  "EVERY RUNNER HAS A DREAM.  A DREAM OF THE IDEAL RUN.  OUR JOB IS TO MAKE IT COME TRUE.  This isn't just a pair of the world's finest running shoes.  It's our passion.  What you see here is the result of paradigm-shifting technologies that have been tested and re-tested (again and again).  Years of research on fit, ride, comfort and biomechanics, and an almost frightening obsession with every last detail.  Brook's mission is to deliver the perfect ride for every stride.  Tucked with care in this box is your Run Happy revelation.  Go set it free."

Oh, man...do I want to set it free...

I WANT TO RUN HAPPY!!

But, for now...I'm benched.  Sad.  The best thing to do is give my silly shins time to heal, as much as possible.  I don't know how long it will be till I can run.  And the fact that the R and R Seattle is in 5 weeks, has me a tad concerned.  Yikes...sniff..sniff...!

So,  in the meantime, I'm building a stronger relationship with my padded bicycle shorts. 

 stories to read.  mouths to feed.  wiping tears.  calming fears.  sleepless nights.  breaking up fights.  washing clothes.  tickling toes.  singing songs.  righting wrongs.  piggy-back rides.  waiting at slides.  pulling out hair.  teaching to share.  owies to kiss.  giggling bliss.  crying and whining.  cereal dinning.  beds to make.  birthday cake.  bath time fun.  errands to run.  socks to match.  playing catch.  teeth to brush.  mornings to rush.  prayers to say.  picture day.  dress-up dresses.  cleaning up messes.   lego's and babies.  yes, no's and maybes.  walks in the park.  afraid of the dark.  dentists and docs.  child-proof locks.  birds and the bees.  skinned-up knees.  wiping noses.  dandelion's not roses.  games to attend.  heartbreaks to mend.  snuggles in bed.  apologies said.  time-out chair.  bubble gum hair.  beaming with pride.  i count, you hide.  bad tummy-ache.  deep breaths to take.  

i love being a mother.

                                               * Savannah's Weekend*

FRIDAY NIGHT

How spoiled is this girl?  She got to have two occasions of celebratory bliss!!  She actually never had just a 'friends' party, so I thought it would be a nice little treat to do for her special 8th birthday!  She invited a few friends from church and a friend from school.  Of course, the little sisters wouldn't allow themselves to be excluded. 

For dinner, daddy made his most excellent homemade pizza!!  It was a big hit!!

Hunter...the lone boy of the group!

Chelsea, Caylee, Sam, Savannah, Jenna, Kaitlyn and Hunter!

The Cake!

I know it's hard to believe, but I made it!!  I have come to the conclusion that I can't decorate with icing stuff...so I'll just decorate with accessories!  Ribbons and silk flowers are my friend!

Savannah and her friends had an excellent time playing, eating cake, opening presents, being goofy and just spending time together. 

EASTER SUNDAY MORNING

We had originally planned Vann's baptism for the 16th, but due to a few family conflicts we moved it to the 24th.  Which just so happened to be Easter Sunday.  The coincidence with that...she was also blessed on Easter Sunday. 

Turning 8 has been something Savannah had been excited about for a few years now.  For one,  it meant getting her ears pierced.  She was full of smiles heading into Clair's for the big moment.  Then, she had a melt down and almost jumped out of her chair from the fear.  After a moment, she calmed down, and it was done. 

But...being baptized was what she was THRILLED to do.  No fear involving this one.  She beamed with pride in her dress and curls and counted down the hours.

Sisters.

So, I feel like a terrible mom for not getting a pic with Payton.  He was still in his pj's when I was taking these, so he missed out.  But he mentioned to me that it really didn't bother him.

The main event.

Daddy was so excited to be baptizing his little girl. 

Savannah picked who she wanted to be on the program.  Grandma Gifford and Grandma Iris gave the prayers, Jill (another 'grandma') gave a talk, and the surprise...Payton volunteered to also give one.  The messages shared were so great.  But I will say, that when my 10 year old got up to give his talk on the Holy Ghost, I was speechless.  I honestly don't think I have ever been more proud of my boy.  He did such an amazing and impressive job.  And...he didn't even read it.  He just had some scripture references and key words written down!  He did have a bit of an adrenaline overload when he was done, and broke down in tears.  But...he comes by that honestly!

When the moment arrived it was sweet.  Savannah Marie came out of the water beaming and so was I.  The water washed away the bad stuff and the curls, but what emerged from that water was my baby girl, clean and pure.  I will keep this in my heart and remember what she looked like and how we both felt when I wrapped the towel around her and told her how much I loved her and how she looked up at me and said, with her biggest smile,  "Mom, I just feel so happy!"

IT'S JUST HAIR...sniff sniff

I will confess to watching my fare share of talk shows in my lifetime.  Yeah, even those terrible "who's the daddy?" ones.  The episodes, on whatever talk show it may be, that are my favorite, are the make-overs.  They bring out these people who, in their eyes,  need to revamp their outer layer.  You usually have your biker dude/dudette.  Then there is the typical 30 something mother of 3 who has just put her kids first and forgotten about herself to the point of wearing the same kind of mom jeans for the last 13 years. Then, of course there is always the lady who has hair to her rear or beyond that cries at the very suggestion of cutting off her lovely locks.  Now, I have never understood this.  They usually end up looking fantastic.  I wonder what they are so worried about because they usually look so much better and I have laughed at the fact that they cry about...HAIR!!

Well...who's crying now? 

 ME!

Yep...I cut it.  About 10 inches, and I'm a little devastated.  Saying that makes me feel a little ridiculous.  I have the most intense regret just sitting on my chest right now.  My hair had become somewhat of who I am.  Don't laugh.  And it feels like I have cut off a part of myself...lost a little bit of my identity. My friend told me the other day that I am more than my beautiful hair.  I know I am.  But, having it gone has made me realize just how much I loved it.  Everyone I've talked to has loved my new 'do' and says it looks 'cute!'  I'm so grateful for their positive strokes to my damaged ego... I'm just a little sad about it, and spent several days blubbering about it.  LAME!!  Why did I cut so much off?  I needed it cut, and wanted it cut.  But, it's shorter than it should be and there are way too many layers.  I hate hating my hair.  I hate not knowing how to work with it completely, molding it to look the way I want it.  It's my own dang fault, and I was warned by my husband and hair stylist.  In fact, my hair stylist refused to do it at first...while her husband threw in his objections as well.  I should have listened.  DORK!
SO...what can I do about it?  Not much really...but wait for it to grow back.  I actually picked up some pre-natal vitamins to help the process a little bit.
Savannah came into my bedroom the other day and noticed I was a little teary-eyed.  OK, Fine! I was bawling!  Anyway, she asked what was wrong and I told her I was just a little sad about my hair.  She replied "Mom, it looks so pretty.  And you could always buy a wig."  I will not say that I have ruled that out as an option!