Best. Card. Ever.

I love it! It’s just what I asked for explicitly!

But he did have just a little bit of help. From me.

No, I didn’t lift a finger all day. I don’t know that I even changed a diaper or wiped a butt. I did next to nothing of value the entire day. But I helped him by telling him EXACTLY what I wanted when asked. We’ve been married long enough now that we both know that the element of surprise is rarely successful. It sounds so nice, doesn’t it? The idea of me waking up, with no clue what Mother’s Day surprises await. A spa day? A shopping spree? Jewelry? So exciting! Until your husband walks in with a dozen roses that cost a fortune, coffee in bed that gets sloshed everywhere by the kids and plans for the WHOLE FAMILY to go to lunch at a packed restaurant together and OH MY GOD NO NONE OF THOSE THINGS PLEASE.

And yes, it is the thought that counts. Except that’s bullshit. It’s not the thought that counts, it’s making sure the other person is happy that counts. Which is why before Sunday was over, I was already telling Paul to get cracking on his ideas for Father’s Day because the clock is a-ticking, baby.

I don’t mess around with this kind of thing. I no longer expect my husband (or anyone) to read my mind. (Spoiler Alert: I think about my hair A LOT. I’m growing it out, ugh.) And when it comes to parenting, I’m learning that asking for help when I need it is not only ok, it’s crucial.

Last week, I wrote a post in support of/kind of not supportive of dads. In it, I talked about how the trend of the “bumbling idiot dad” is annoying and stupid and not totally accurate (but kind of is in a lot of cases), but also how I wasn’t crying them a river. A great debate took place between some moms and dads. The consensus was that the ads/TV shows featuring men who are normally intelligent until they get around a baby and then they start drooling and tripping all over everything are really insulting and low-brow. It’s unoriginal and not very creative and probably more prevalent than some of the dads fighting this trend care to realize.

I don’t know numbers or percentages, but anecdotally, I can say that I have probably as many friends with husbands/partners living up to this stereotype as I have that don’t. Dads that never change diapers. Dads that don’t do bedtime or bath time or snack time. Dads that don’t get up with babies or know where the wipes are or have a clue where anything is. And that sucks.

But who is to blame here? The dads, right? I mean, come ON. Step up! Be a man! Help a mother out, literally!

But wait. Let me ask you this.

Ladies, how many of you didn’t get what you wanted for Mother’s Day? How many of you got nothing or got a little something or got a big something but not the big something you wanted? And how many of you, when you were up with the kids or making your own coffee thought “Clueless. He. Is. Clueless.”

Clueless.

So, did you give him a clue? Because unless you are married to Jambi, he might need one.

Mekka lekka hi mekka hiney ho!

Also, if you are married to Jambi, I’m super jealous.

If you aren’t married to anyone from Pee Wee’s Playhouse, my question for you is this: Do you ever ASK for help? Do you ever point blank say: “I need you to change this diaper please.” Or “I’m exhausted. Can we trade off and you get up in the morning?” (Obviously if you are nursing, this doesn’t work. DAMMIT.) And if you DO ask for help, do you then micromanage? Do you say: “Can you get her dressed for school?” and then roll your eyes at what he puts her in? Or instead, are you condescending as hell, laying out every single damn thing from top to bottom with instructions like “THE BOW GOES IN HER HAIR”? Or maybe “Hey, he’s hungry, can you grab him a snack? No, not that. No, not that. No, not tha… JUST LET ME, GOD.”

Because that isn’t helping.

Yes, I’ve been there, of course I have. And it sucked. Because by trying to control everything while simultaneously not do everything (because, lazy), Paul and I started nitpicking. And resenting. And eye rolling. And arguing and fighting and blargh, it sucked. So now, we just SAY what we need. We have agreements. We TALK.

Moms, if you need help with the kids, you need to say so. No one gets a prize for Most Diapers Changed. Who would want it anyway? Gross. You don’t win Mother of the Year because your kid’s clothes match 24/7. And if you did, is it worth it if it means your husband is left out and then resented for never helping? It’s not.

Moms can bumble, too, you know. And put diapers on backwards or put shirts on inside out or whatever these ads claim dads do all the time. But we learn by practice. So how can the men get any better if you don’t let them? They can’t.

If you do ask your man for help directly and he flat out tells you no, he sucks so this doesn’t apply to you. But give me his number, because we need to have a CHAT.

There is a real culture out there that still says women are the only ones capable of raising the kids, and that the men are just idiots at best, lazy and self-centered at worst. And Aaron and his other blogging friends are sick of it. They are involved dads, according to them, who believe it is their job to change diapers and wipe noses and go to the park just as much as it is mom’s job. And they are right. This should be obvious to so many, but it’s not. And so these dads, like Aaron and like MY baby daddy, get lumped in with the Everybody Loves Raymonds out there that can’t tell baby bottle from a hole in the ground and it’s lame. LAME. In the future, I plan on writing about women’s role in this trend and how it’s kind of your own fault if your husband doesn’t help, but I’ve pissed enough people off today.

Really?

So where’s the drama, you ask? You might actually be saying: “Christi, you seem to agree with them. This is without drama. I’m confused.” You are saying that, right?

Here’s the drama. I agree with these dads that onesies that are “daddy proof” or Huggies’ commercials that claim their products are so good even a dad can’t destroy it are insulting. And while they have every right to want this message to go away, I just couldn’t muster up sympathy for them. Which I told them. I may or may not have used the words “toughen up,” which apparently was the WRONG THING TO SAY. “Welcome to the club” didn’t go over very well either.

Whoops.

Look, two wrongs don’t make a right. So just because women have been the butt of jokes in the media for decades doesn’t mean men should get a turn just to be fair. But I couldn’t honestly feel BAD for any of these men that were so upset over this. I turned to Paul to ask him if I was wrong in my thinking, and his exact response, I shit you not, was this:

“A white American male complaining that someone is making fun of them? Please.”

See why I love him? This was pretty much my entire point.

Men have a right to be offended or hurt by pop culture treating them like buffoons. And I like that bloggers are speaking out about this, reaching out to Huggies and other companies to tell them that it’s inaccurate and insulting to portray parenting as something done while men watch football and make more messes for their wives to clean up. But the outrage? The victimization? The WHINING? Come on.

You are still men. You are still making more money and getting more perks and treated with more respect and given full rights and promoted easier and on and on and on… It still doesn’t suck to be you. Yes, this trend needs to stop, but the best way to stop it isn’t with outrage, but it’s by being role models to your brethren. Because for every diaper bag-toting dad out there, there’s at least one that really doesn’t know where the diapers are kept. So break the cycle by showing the REAL bumbling dads that THEY are the losers here. Not because a show on TV says so, but because they are missing out on their kids. Who cares what ads say? If women believed everything we hear about us on TV, we’d think we are all supposed to be our happiest when Swiffering your chest hair off the bathroom floor before going off to buy tampons with a cool new applicator.

Don’t worry about the haters, guys. Worry about the dead weight that is bringing you down. They are the ones making you look bad, not TV.

So one of the first rules of Blogging 101 is make sure a post includes great IMAGES. Cool photos or graphics or GIFs (God, I LOVE GIFs) or anything to “make it visually appealing” or to “break up the white space” or to “prove I have an iPhone.” I’m going to break this rule today. Bear with me.

I don’t know these people.

Tennessee has apparently entered its rainy season, therefore everyone in my house is going stir crazy after days and days of no playing outside at school or at home. It starts getting very “The Shining” around day 3. TV is of no interest any longer, you’ve played every game, made piles of pillows, baked cookies (eaten cookies) and still the rain comes down. So Saturday afternoon, after hours of listening to bickering and whining and screaming, I knew it was time to change things up or we were going to end up like Lord of the Flies.

“Get your Crocs on and go outside,” I said to my two wildlings.

They looked at me in amazement.

“Yes, you heard me. Go. Go play in the rain.”

Greatest. Mom. Ever.

Seriously, why haven’t I done this before? I have no idea. I’m an idiot. Anyway, if you haven’t done it either, DO IT.

Regardless of why I haven’t done it yet, I’m so glad I chose Saturday for their first true puddle-jumping experience. It was the PERFECT rainy day. Everything is so green and lush right now, and the rainfall was the perfect amount. You know those white noise machines with a “rain forest” setting? THAT. That is the kind of rain we were having. And since it had been coming down for days, there were puddles GALORE. So. Much. Splashing. So. Much. Fun.

The boys came up with a game. Well, Declan came up with it, Simon just does whatever. It went like this: Run across the yard to the edge of the street. Run to a big puddle. Jump in it. Run to a spot where the gutter is dented and rain pours down like a faucet. Drink the water. Run back across the yard. Scream with laughter.

Have you ever played that game? No? Well, you should. They did it for the better part of an hour. I stood under the covered part of the porch so as not to get drenched myself, and I laughed right along with them. And there were several times I wanted to run in and grab my phone to document this occasion. I thought “OMG, this would  make the CUTEST video!” The Instagram possibilities were endless. But I didn’t. And while that means I don’t have photographic evidence of this joyous time, I don’t think I’ll forget it.

I’m starting to realize that while documenting everything with photos and videos to be Instagrammed or Vined or whatever is easy and convenient and has value, it’s not necessary. I rarely print photos. I try to only post the cutest or most fun images to social media for the benefit of family and friends. So the need to constantly have the camera present is more habit than anything. Memories CAN exist just in our heads. Just because we don’t have to pay for a roll of film any more doesn’t mean we need more photos in our life, right? Or not, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.

What I do know that no camera out there, regardless of quality, could capture the fun of that hour spent in the rain with my boys. No video would fully grasp the hilarity of Simon getting doused with cold rain water in the face or the pride Declan felt at the huge splash he made that went right in his baby brother’s mouth. Or how funny they thought it was to come up and hug their perfectly dry mother, getting me almost as soaked as they were. You’ll just have to believe me when I say it was picture perfect.

Until Declan peed in the yard.

If this is your thing, I’m cool with it.*
*I’m not.

K.

There are so many people that seem to fit into a niche: Hippy/Crunchy Moms, Type A Moms, Crafty Moms, Free Spirit Moms. They happily breastfeed for years and never seem to feel claustrophobic. Or they get everything done quickly and with no mess and are never late to anything. Or every birthday party is a Pinterest-worthy extravaganza and they didn’t even have to be institutionalized afterward. Or they just roll with the punches, never getting worked up, instead just shrugging their shoulders and grinning.

I am none of this.

I’ve tried to be a variation of all of these and any other kind you can think of, but it’s always a letdown. And in the past, when I was still really new at this motherhood game (I’m hardly more than a novice now, I know), I would get SO frustrated. WHY can’t I do these things? WHY can’t I make shit/go with the flow/relax/step it up, etc? They make it look SO EASY.

Because I seriously don’t think it’s real.

I’m not calling the Niche Moms fakes. But I am saying that there is a trend right now where moms are basically branding themselves in a certain way, on purpose or not, and we are buying what they are selling. We see the Instagrammed photos of the sun-kissed day at the park. We see your Pinterest board for the CUTEST THIRD BIRTHDAY PARTY EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. We read your status updates about your holiday-themed meals. And we wonder HOW DOES SHE DO THAT? And we blame ourselves for not doing the same, not doing enough, not BEING enough.

I can’t even with this.

But here’s the thing. It’s not the whole story, is it? We don’t see how the sausage gets made, literally or figuratively. And that’s ok. You don’t HAVE to show us that while you were cutting out shamrocks for your St. Patrick’s Day themed playdate, your kid almost set the house on fire. Or that while you got everyone dressed perfectly and bags packed neatly and lunches made quickly and in the car ready for school early that you screamed at your kids 400 times and now you hate yourself a little.

I choose to tell the whole story, here on my blog and in social media and in basically any conversation you’ll ever have with me. I’m not much of a sugar-coater. I try to be the voice of reality in a world of Shiny Happy Motherhood. I do think there is a place for both. I think it’s great to see so many moms living up to the image they have of motherhood. I get inspired by their energy. But we need those reminders that it isn’t always pretty, or when we are having those shit-filled days (LITERALLY), we feel alone and like a failure.

Luckily, I’m far from alone, as the post by Sarah proved. And many other bloggers out there, like Amalah, and The Bearded Iris and many others that are WAY bigger and say things better than I do. But these points of view provide balance, and hopefully a little camaraderie among moms who are in the trenches, just trying to survive every day.

So thanks, Karma! You are horrible horrible turd. But you will not deter me, you vindictive, spiteful hag! I will be NICE TO OTHER PEOPLE even if it KILLS ME (I won’t really do that) so take THAT, you cosmic cow! (+10 if you get that reference).

Now do you get my reference?

Needless to say, my #40GoodDays might be more like 36. But that’s ok. In this case, it is the thought that counts, and even though a few days passed when the only good thing I did was force feed my child heinous-tasting medicine, I was constantly thinking about things I could do. I am hyper-vigilant right now to opportunities and things I can do for others. I’ve done some small things lately, like bake cookies for some friends at the gym (even though they only ate 2 of the dozen that I brought. Next time, I won’t hit up the fitness crowd with free snacks) and hand out fliers for my friend Jill’s Zumbathon to support an amazing organization she runs, but I’m trying.

I’m hoping that by at least THINKING about good deeds for 40 days will create a new habit for me. Then, after Easter, my brain will just be programmed to think of others easily and frequently. That’s my plan, anyway.

Now I’m ready to tackle some bigger things. I’m not sure what, yet. The small things come by chance, it seems, and that’s fine. I’d like to do some things with purpose, however. Maybe find a cause to volunteer for or to raise awareness about. What’s your favorite charity organization? What group would you or do you give your time and money to? I’d love to find out about something new!

And many of you have reported on my Facebook page the good things you are doing. Keep it up!!

The first two days of #40GoodDays have been a success, albeit interesting. I’m trying to let opportunities arise naturally to help others or do something nice, but I never counted on my attempts failing. Case in point: Yesterday morning, I took Simon to school and it was raining. I looked down and noticed that I had not one but THREE umbrellas in my car (it’s a good thing my husband shaves his head or I bet he would have been PISSED! LOL! HAHAHAHAHAHA! I suck.). As I drove home, I saw several people along the way waiting for the city bus, and none of them had umbrellas. LIGHTBULB! I’ll offer someone an umbrella! I AM SO NICE!!!

I was looking for the right opportunity in traffic, and was quickly running out of options. And then, lo and behold, as I had just about given up and was about to turn onto my street, there stood a man, who I assume was waiting for the bus (I don’t live near a bus stop, but the bus does drive by I guess. Or maybe he was a murderer, who knows.) There were no cars behind me, so I turned onto my street, rolled down my window and ever-so-nicely said “Hi! I just noticed I have three umbrellas in my car today, isn’t that funny? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! awkward giggle would you like one? I’d hate for you to be cold and wet all day!” In hindsight, that was a pretty weird way to approach someone at 8:30 in the morning, but I don’t question the signs, people!

Anyway, he politely refused and I drove away, a bit dejected. Did that count as a good deed? It didn’t feel like one. But I can’t control what others do, so it’s the thought that counts, right?

Ugh.

So I tried again. And this time it worked. I think.

I had the day to myself and had some things to return at Banana Republic (took a risk on some jeans. Big mistake.). I don’t normally shop at that store, so I was hoping to get some cash to go blow on something I really needed. Sephora, obvs. Anywho, for whatever reason, they gave me a store credit. So much for karma, right? GOD, my life SUCKS. I somehow make myself go hit the sale racks to spend this money on things I can’t afford, and I am lucky enough to find a couple of shirts on sale that were within the limit of my return. (I know you guys are riveted. I promise there is a point coming.) The nice girl rings me up, and tells me I have about $10 left on my gift card. And we all know that finding something for $10  at the Banana is laughable. And then BAM! A good deed!!

Those poor, poor people.

I told the girl to keep the gift card and to please apply it to the next person’s purchase, and just tell them to pay it forward. She praised me, I grinned and left the store, feeling all good and spontaneous and then was like “WAY TO DONATE TO THE POOR UNFORTUNATE PEOPLE WHO ARE FORCED TO SHOP AT BANANA REPUBLIC MORON.”

I literally stopped in the mall to think. Was that stupid? Did that count? I just donated a few bucks to a high-end store primarily servicing professionals. Not exactly United Way. Did I squander my good deed on someone who doesn’t need it?

I hope not. Actually, I hope this really worked well.

It dawned on me that only giving to those that I deem “needy” is actually pretty condescending. First of all, besides the obvious choice of volunteering at a homeless shelter, just looking at someone and thinking “I could help them!” is kind of an asshole thing to do. Instead, maybe this random act at a not-so-obvious location is the exact RIGHT way to do this. Because ultimately, this isn’t about what I DO, it’s about INSPIRING OTHERS like I’ve been inspired. It’s about paying it forward, putting good out there, just being freaking NICE for once. And EVERYONE can benefit from that.

Coincidentally, last night after the gym, I stopped for gas, and as soon as I got out of the car, the lady in front of me asked me for help. She had a broken hand and couldn’t get the gas cap on. I helped her, of course, and thought “Good, I have an insurance policy in case the next person in line at the Banana is a total bitch.”

Head over to the Domestic Disturbia Facebook page , find me on Instagram by searching for Hayden1222 or Tweet to me@hayden1222 with hashtag #40GoodDays to share your ideas or your good deeds! This isn’t to brag (but hell yea, brag!! You deserve to!) but to inspire others.

I’ve had such a GREAT response from people who want to join in on the #40GoodDays idea! Now, I’ve never really done anything like this before, and I have a bad habit of posting about some great new thing I’m going to do and keep you posted on and then I get distracted by something and that’s the end of that. Like here, here and here. Anyway. I’m not going to do that this time, promise.

I did want to elaborate on the idea. For anyone who is interested/inspired, YOU don’t have to do something every day. I am going to try to do something every day as the ring leader here, but only because I want to be Ground Zero for this idea. If me doing something inspires you to do something, then someone will see that and THEY will do something, and so on and so forth forever and ever AMEN.

And as far as good deeds go, let’s  not over-think it, people! Sometimes a good deed is something as small as holding the door open for someone. Because you don’t know if you just held a door open for someone who has just gotten horrible news or is exhausted from being up all night with a baby or just has their hands full! But I want to think outside the box, too. Here are some ideas based on good deeds I’ve witnessed or thought of:

• Bake something and take it to an office/business you frequent. The post office, the bank, the gas station.
• I saw a customer buy a candy bar for the lady bagging her groceries the other day. Just because!
• Got a gift card that you haven’t used? Give it to a stranger or leave it somewhere with a note explaining why.
• Buy lunch for someone.
• Call or email an old friend or family member just to say hi.
• Make your kids’ favorite meal, even if it’s macaroni and cheese with a side of cereal! Why not?
• Ask someone how their day is, and really listen.
• Offer to help someone. Anyone.
• Surprise a friend with homecooked meal for their family.
• Send your spouse out for the night, or at least to the bedroom while you handle the kids or chores. Give them the night off!
• Smile at someone that looks like they need it.

I really want to hear what you guys come up with! Head over to the Domestic Disturbia Facebook page, find me on Instagram by searching for Hayden1222 or Tweet to me @hayden1222 with hashtag #40GoodDays to share your ideas or your good deeds! This isn’t to brag (but hell yea, brag!! You deserve to!) but to inspire others. (If you are a blogger and want to participate, let me know!) The main reason I thought of this idea is because I have seen others share when people have randomly done nice things for them and how it inspired them to do the same for others. That’s all this is. I’d also like to include my kids in this somehow and would love to hear from you how we can get kids on board, too! I bet their idea of good deeds would be pretty awesome.

So let’s hear it! Leave comments here or on Facebook, and as I see great ideas, I’ll share it with others! Just think of all the good karma this will bring us. It might even balance out all the snarky behavior I exhibit the rest of the time. Let’s hope, or I’m screwed.

I love this so much.

Thanks.

So what has brought me back from the dead? A couple of things. One, I’m not exactly working right now. Nothing happened, didn’t lose my job, but as I’m learning, life at a PR firm is the definition of feast or famine, and right now, I’m in a famine. Metaphorically. I’m eating, trust me. So I not only have more time (because we aren’t pulling the boys out of school, which means I’m home ALONE for HOURS three days a week and let me tell you it is the BEST. No offense to my children or husband, of course.) but I have a need to use my brain at times (SHUT UP), and my blog helps with that. (I SAID SHUT UP)

Two, I had a GREAT idea.!! Who says it’s great?? ME!! Today is Fat Tuesday, also known as Mardi Gras, also known as Shrove Tuesday and also known as Pancake Tuesday! I’m not Catholic or from Louisiana or even remotely religious, but there’s something about the 40 days of Lent that always inspires me a little. I guess I like a challenge, and that’s pretty much what Lent is all about, right? (I have no idea, really.) So I’ve been thinking for five minutes all day about what I want to give up for Lent this year, and was coming up blank. Last year, I gave up drinking (ONLY DURING THE WEEK!) and it was meh. I only did it to aide in my weight loss and I don’t think it worked, I don’t remember. Anyway, I’m already doing that right now because WEIGHT LOSS IS HARD. There’s no other food that’s really worth declaring I QUIT YOU!! for 6 or so weeks, so that’s out.

I thought about other things to quit, but none of them seemed very inspiring or challenging. Quitting something easy isn’t the point of Lent, right? (Or is it? I’m really unclear on the details). So I went in the other direction. What is something I could ADD to my life that would be challenging and worthwhile? I already exercise (like 4 days a week now, like I’m some sort of Olympic athlete or something) and I read and try to do quality things with friends and family. Then it dawned on me, while drying my hair: I’m going to do GOOD DEEDS! EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I know, nothing groundbreaking, but how COOL is that idea??? Every single day, I’m going to do something nice for someone. Like, really nice, not just hold the door (I am Southern, after all). Whether it’s the good old fashioned pay for someone’s coffee at Starbucks (I don’t drink Starbucks, but if I did…) or make dinner for a friend for no reason or I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ALL! But I’m excited!!!

Who wants to join me? If you do, leave a comment here or on my FB page. I want to spread the word! Let’s Instagram and Vine and Tweet that good SHIT! I’m gonna come up with a hashtag for it, so we can see what everyone is doing! How about #40GoodDays? Yes, that’s it. #40GoodDays!

I’m excited to do this and I’m excited to start blogging again. Who’s with me??

As a token of my regret, I’d like to offer a service, FREE OF CHARGE, to all my friends out there. Now that I work as a “Social Media Coordinator,” (yes, that is my actual title, which I love) I can say that I “Facebook for a living,” which means I’m an expert and you should listen to me. As the holidays approach, you guys are going to be cooking and traveling and decorating and doing all kinds of shit that you want to photograph and Instagram and post all over the place and that is GREAT. However. Based on what I’ve seen so far, and it’s only 5 days out from Thanksgiving, some of y’all are not clear on the rules of Facebook Photo Album Sharing. So today, I’m taking the time out of my very busy life, to explain how to share your photos in a way that won’t make your friends cuss you from their computer monitors. Because they have been. I promise.

1. We’ll start with the easy ones. If it’s blurry, don’t post it.
2. If it’s too dark, don’t post it.
3. If you have to explain what it is because no one can tell, don’t post it.
4. If in doubt, don’t post it.
5. Limit tourist attraction shots. Yes, seeing the Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty or Grand Canyon is AMAZING and I’m happy for you! So one shot of it will do. Because you know why? I have Google.
6. The number of photos in any given album from an event or trip should be less than 100. Truly. I enjoy my friends’ photos of vacations and parties and events. I really do. But I don’t have time or energy to scroll through 265 photos of “Day 1 at the Beach!” or “Mamaw Opens Presents at her 95th!” Pick a few of your best to post and put the rest on Shutterfly or Snapfish or even just a folder on your computer. Because Facebook isn’t for photo STORAGE, it’s for photo SHOWCASING.
7. No excuse for sideways photos. None.
8. Don’t include the outtakes. If you are trying to get a good shot, but in the first 16, eyes are closed, someone sneezes, a car drives in front of you, or you forget the flash, just delete those. Nobody wants to see how the sausage is made, remember.
9. If it’s a bad photo of yourself, you don’t have to post it! I look GREAT in all of my photos. BECAUSE I AM IN CONTROL. Don’t post a photo of yourself and then go “Ugh, this one is horrible!” Delete it, move on.
10. Have the same respect for your friends/family. If the photo is great of you, but your wife has her eyes closed and is looking down so she has a triple chin, be nice. Crop it or delete it. Come on.

This about covers it. Photos don’t have to be perfect or staged or filtered or edited. But they need to be pleasing and interesting. Remember your audience and their time. If you want me interested in your life, make it appear interesting. Fake it til you make it! We all appreciate it.

Anyway, there’s a lot of running in the movie, which is kind of like my life. (Great segue, no?) This weekend, I completed my first ever 5K. This is major. Six months ago, I would have told you that I HATE running, always have and always will. I would have told you that weight-loss be damned. I was perfectly happy with my Zumba and BodyJam routines, thankyouverymuch.

And then one of my friends suggested that a few of us sign up for “a really fun-looking race!” And she apparently had Roofied us, because we were all like “YES! Running a race sounds like so much fun right now!” Which is weird because almost none of us have EVER been runners before, but now we were all about it.

So I started the Couch to 5K program through an app by Active.com. Guys, I can’t say enough about this program. It’s GREAT. It advances so gradually that you actually believe you won’t die, but it still pushes you. If you have ANY interest in running, look into it. TRUST ME.

While the program worked great, I still had some setbacks. First off, I started the program on the treadmill because I don’t love nature. I really don’t love nature in the summer, which was when we had to start the training in order to finish it by the race (it’s a 9-week program). So that was all fine and good, until my hip started bothering me. Yes, my hip, since I am 99 years old. I was Googling words like “bursitis” and “inflamed joints.” I was this close to buying housecoats and getting my hair set weekly.

Then I decided that I should probably attempt running outside since the race would not provide me with a portable treadmill to run on. Wouldn’t that have been the BEST though? I could have been pulled through the streets of Knoxville like a Rose Parade float. Maybe next time.

When the temperature got below 1000, I hit the running trail at the park by my house. I was already about 6 weeks into the program, and was able to run 20+ minutes straight at the gym. I figured I’d struggle some and I gave myself permission to walk “if needed,” but I was confident that I could handle it.

And then I almost died and hated everything and wanted to cut my legs off as punishment for failing me so miserably.

It HURT. HURT HURT HURT. And every second that I ran that day  (which equated about 100 seconds, I believe) felt like an eternity. I couldn’t get my pace down. I was constantly afraid someone was coming up behind me or I’d step in dog poo. I hated it.

I knew I had to get over it, though, so I set out to fix the one thing I could control, and that was the hip pain. I got fitted at a true running store for some new running shoes, which was mega intimidating and ridiculously expensive. If you’ve never done this, this is what happens:

Overweight, out of shape person walks in. Sees in-shape healthy looking people discussing marathons. Wants to leave but has been spotted. Immediately over-share every detail of your running history and ask 100 questions about fitness and running and body parts. Worker asks you to run around the store barefoot. Look at the worker incredulously. Become convinced that this isn’t, in fact, a joke, and run around the store. Try on 5 pairs of shoes, continue running around the store. Start to feel like a total dumbass. Pay $100+ for shoes, just so you can leave.

But, I have to say, the Nikes I bought seem to be really great shoes, and going up a full shoe size helped immensely. Yea, I’m barely 5’5″ and wear a size 10 shoe.

For the next couple of weeks, I tried and tried to get used to running outside, but seriously, I HATE it. Most runners seem to disagree, but I don’t care. I don’t need the freedom of the open road or fresh air or beautiful scenery. I need to be in an air-conditioned room with no fear of stray dogs or rapists. So the gym it is.

The week of the race came, and I was pretty bummed. I knew that with my lack of experience with outside running that there would be no way I’d run the entire 5K without stopping, which was my goal. I started to feel like a failure in a way. Which is stupid because look how far I’ve come, blah blah. But I had set a goal and it wasn’t attainable, so that sucks.

But the night before the race, I came to total peace with my progress. I set out this process basically to see if my running hatred was warranted. If I was SO resistant to something, I needed to truly evaluate why. My plan was to stick to the program, run the race and then say “SEE! I TOLD YOU! I still hate running! And now all of you runners can STFU about how awesome it is!” (Because, can we agree that while runner are mega supportive of other runners, y’all can be a little obsessed. Just sayin.) But as I arrived at the end, I didn’t hate it. I can’t say that I love it, but I don’t hate it. And that’s a huge plus.

The race was awesome, though. Everybody told me that races are the best because of the energy and the adrenaline and all that, and they weren’t kidding. I was PUMPED. And totally want to do it again. Especially a race as fun as the Color Me Rad. And no, I didn’t run the whole way, probably only half, actually. But I am totally ok with that. I’ve been running for 9 weeks and I can run 2 miles, which is 2 miles more than I could run for the past 34 years. So I call that a win.