Robin Chartier – Page 76

Animal planet

We have kittens. Not on purpose. A mama cat gave birth to 3 kittens in our storage closet (the door doesn’t close all the way) and we only discovered it when the mama cat was hanging around outside our kitchen door and refused to leave even with “firm encouragement.” (barking dog, a spray of water, kids running in and out of the door, etc).

One morning I opened the door and 3 rats went running. I screamed and then realized they were kittens, and not rats. Mama cat, lying on my mat, looked up at me and hissed. Really? You’re quite nervy. In case you’re thinking this is going to be a heartwarming story of how we rescued these kittens, brace yourself.

For the last 2 weeks, I’ve put up with having them right outside my kitchen even though it is making my dog and cat CRAZY. The cat lies right on the other side of the kitchen window above the sink (when she’s not parked on the mat waiting for me to trip over her) and Zeki gets all riled up on this side of the glass and tries to fight — bristling, batting at the window, and yowling. Meanwhile, the dog has been having frequent urgent potty needs, which really means he wants to go outside and try to chase Mama Cat, but Mama Cat is a fierce warrior so she stands her ground while he howls and darts at her and she swipes at his face and draws blood.

THIS HAS BEEN MY LIFE FOR THE PAST TWO WEEKS!

Frustrated cat and dog have started marking their territory inside my house and I’m about ready to sent the whole lot of them to the shelter. I finally cleared the kittens out of our storage room — looking for the rat-like creatures by peeking inside boxes and under laundry baskets was terrifying. And sweaty work. I’m dripping, kneeling in fish bones (because Mama Cat was raiding the neighborhood dumpsters and bringing back dinner for her young) and hoping/not hoping to find them under each item — afraid they were going to jump out at me like a Jack in the Box. I finally got them all out of the room and tied the door closed with lots of string. The poor little things kept throwing themselves at the door trying to force it open, but I had cleaned enough cat poop, bird feathers, and other cat leavings out from under the bed to never want them back in there again. Too bad, so sad.

I thought Mama Cat would find a safer place to move her babies once I kicked her out of Motel 6, but no, she was happy to remain right outside our back door and let the babies snuggle up next to her or run under our grill when they were in need of shelter. Oh Lord. Why? More indoor pet drama. Pee on the bed, poop on the carpet, Mama Human about to lose her mind.

Then they figured out how to get into our outdoor laundry room yesterday (and got past each blockade we put in their way). Envisioning cat droppings among my clean clothes, I knew this required an eviction notice. So this morning we opened the garage door and the front gate and went on a kitten hunt. Sweat pouring off of all of us, each armed with a mop, a long handled squeegee or some other herding device, and Josh growling, “GRRRRR!” we eventually got 2 kittens out of our yard and onto the street (haven’t seen number 3 since yesterday) and then quickly closed and locked the doors. Mama Cat went up and over the wall and hopefully is reunited with her babies in front of our house. Last I saw they were climbing up inside the wheel well of Josh’s car that is parked on the street. Good times.

They were cute, they were fun to watch, but they were the last straw for my nutty pets that I’m responsible for already. I’m half waiting for a Poltergeist-type situation where I walk outside to see, “They’re baaaack!”

A few more photos

Camille started school yesterday and now the only thing anyone wants to ask me is, “What are you going to do with yourself all day?” Um, recharge? Recover from the last 16 years? Take a deep breath? I’m sure I’ll be able to manage somehow . . .

I didn’t think having her at school would make much of a difference in my sense of freedom because I’ve had the luxury of having help with Camille since we moved overseas and she’s easy to hang out with during the day, but yesterday I was shocked by how uncluttered my brain felt all day long. It was as if I had transferred the weight of responsibility I always carry over to someone else for a few hours and when she came home at the end of the day, I was refreshed, in tune, alert and actually interested in what she had to say. The benefit carried over to the boys too because they had things they wanted to tell me and I had the mental energy left to listen and care about what they were telling me. It’s like the constant buzz in my brain was silenced and the fog finally cleared.

I didn’t realize how much of a brain drain was happening each day — even on easy days, by being responsible for one small human. I figured because she was mostly potty trained and can be trusted with markers that I was already skating through life. What a pleasant surprise. Maybe I’ll get back some of those brain cells that have gone missing since 1999.

So what did I do? I read a book. I went to the grocery store. I baked. I made dinner. And when my kids got home I had real conversations with them instead of listening while multi-tasking in the back of my head.

I’ll get around to posting her first day of school photos soon. Right now I’m going to start another book.

The following Throwdown photos are ones I found on Instagram.

^^^ I’m beat

If they weren’t running with me, I’d probably be walking

Happy to be finished!

I’ll take the physical challenge

I’ve been doing this CrossFit thing for about 6 weeks. Everyone I talk to who does CF says, “Oh yeah, you’ll get addicted!” Umm, I’m not feeling addicted. It’s not like it’s chocolate or reality TV or a single-camera comedy (Arrested Development, The Office, or Community). I’m addicted to things that create joy and laughter and are comfortable — CrossFit is none of those things.

I keep going because as much as I don’t love sweating and working hard, I don’t like feeling weak and out of shape and that is certainly in my future if I don’t keep moving. I’m hoping as an added bonus it will keep my body from looking jiggly and Middle-Aged Momish. Too bad that after 6 weeks all it has done is made my butt an inch bigger. I’m not even kidding. I measured and everything is the same, but my butt is bigger. Totally not fair. From the millions of squats I’ve done, it should have gotten rid of some of the excess. At this rate, I’ll be a jiggly J-Lo by December.

To be fair, it hasn’t all been for nothing. The loose skin and layer of fat on my belly has gotten firmer and it dangles less when I bend over to see how far it hangs down. (Anyone who has had kids knows exactly what I’m talking about!) Sometimes I think I see positive changes, but other days it all feels as squishy as the day I started.

All that to give some background as to how I ended up participating in a CrossFit competition last night. When our gym announced they would be holding a “Throwdown” a few weeks back, a “friend” (I’m using that term loosely because real friends don’t make their friends do physical challenges) said, “Oh come on Robin, it will be fun. We’ll do it together.” I promised her that my definition of fun had nothing to do with running and lifting heavy things, but she wore me down and I added my name to the list of competitors.

Have I mentioned it’s been 105 to 115 lately? And that doesn’t include the humidity. Local facebook friends have been entertaining each other these past two weeks with screenshots that show the temperature and what it actually feels like with the heat index taking into account the humidity. Things like “windchill of 124 degrees” are plastered all over my wall. The other night at 10pm it “felt like” 119 outside. I’m fabulously comfortable sitting on my air conditioned couch, but the moment I step outside, my sunglasses fog up, my phone screen mists over and my clothes start to cling.

Lucky for me, our competition was held outside. Sweating before we’ve even begun. Red shorts is my “friend.” She’s in amazing shape and is strong. What was I thinking?!

The first of four events. This was a short sprint with hurdles. I could manage that as long as I could figure out the right way to serpentine around the cones. I kept second guessing myself before the start so Carter gave up explaining and went out on the course and walked around them the right way to show me where to run.

I made it!

Second event was the sled push. Back across the field pushing a 15kg weight. This one was easy too. I was in the first heat of women (the slowest ones), but I didn’t come in last in any of the events. My small personal victory.

Checking the schedule to see which pain comes next. Look at the 3 of us half naked next to the Arab women competitors. They were all very sweet, but I wonder what they really think of us? For normal dress we cover our shoulders and wear knee length skirts or pants, but none of us have workout gear that covers. It was so hot, I really didn’t care anyway.

Event 3 was the hanging clean. I think that’s what it was called. I don’t know the names of the lifts, I just do what they tell me in class. We had 5 minutes to do 3 repetitions at as heavy a weight as we could handle. The weight had to go from hanging at a standing position to up to your shoulders.

My technique is terrible and it feels a lot like trying to rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time (which I can barely do). So I start to think, “dip in the knees . . . straighten up, jump!” and forget all about pulling up on my elbows and rotating my wrists fast enough. Or I remember the wrists and forget how to jump. Anyway, I was able to lift 32.5 kg and one other chickie lifted either the same or 1/2 a kg less than I did. Most everyone else was between 40 and 50.

I remembered my elbows this time!

Did I mention how hot it was? Even the spectators were dripping.

The last event was the buttkicker: A 16 minute “as many rounds as possible” of the following three events: 1 lap around the field, 25 wallballs, and 5 burpee to ring pull-ups. I love and hate the timed “as many rounds as possible” workouts because on the bright side, it can’t last any longer than 16 minutes. On the dark side, it means there is an expectation that you will give an extra level of intensity for that short amount of time. An added bonus for the competition is a personal judge who insures that you complete each move using proper (hard) form or they don’t count that repetition. No half squats on the wallballs!

We all ran the lap and then started our 25 wallballs. You are supposed to hold the 13lb ball, go into a full squat and then come up and throw the ball at a 9ft tall target.

I’m supposed to hit the bottom metal circle.

One!

Ways this can go wrong: You heave the ball up, but it goes straight up and back down and doesn’t touch the target. No rep. You heave the ball up and it hits the shelf beneath the target. No rep. You don’t squat deep enough. No rep.

My judge is the girl in the red T-shirt. She would have been excellent staff in a labor camp: “Robin, you must keep going. Give me 10 more right now. Pick up the ball. I’m giving you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go!”

After completing 25 wallballs, it was time to rest. Seriously, after wallballs anything else is a rest. Even running felt restful. Finish wallballs, immediately move to the side and do a burpee then do a ring pull up (easy from this position). The girls who can do pull-ups did a burpee and a pull-up instead for more points. If I ever learn to do a pull-up you will hear about it on this blog because it will be a miraculous occasion.

After 5 of these, head out for 1 lap.

Then the terrible wall balls all over again.

I did 3 full rounds (75 wallballs!) and this is my 4th run. Right now I’m hoping that if I run slowly enough that time will run out and I won’t have to do anymore wallballs. The kids and Josh were cheering me on the entire time.

Nope, the clock was still ticking. I did a lot of this during the 16 minutes. The ball would get heavy and slip out of my sweaty hands and I was thankful for the excuse to stop and wipe my hands and catch my breath before picking it up again. I also spent a lot of time thinking, “How long is 16 minutes?! Did time stand still?!?” Meanwhile, judgy girl (literally and figuratively) kept saying, “Robin, you must keep going. 10 more right now.” I think I died and didn’t go to heaven.

Finally they called time and I staggered off the field.

I look like I’m about to fall over because I am.

Whoop, whoop. I finished and I wasn’t last.

I was happy to be a spectator during the next several heats. The women were all in great shape and it’s tough to whine about the heat when many of them were fully covered in layers and wearing a hijab throughout. Rock on.

halas! (finished)

School starts early tomorrow morning, but we’re on Middle Eastern time! We finally left at 9pm to get the kids to bed, but they were still working through the men’s heats. It was great to have such an enthusiastic cheering section come and support me. I suppose I would do it again. Maybe. It was really hard. I’m definitely not addicted.

sleepytime

I wrote a whole long blog post yesterday, but then the internet ate it and it disappeared so maybe it was a sign that it needed more work. UGH. I hate starting over. Instead, today I will answer the question that several people have asked me this week: “How is Camille doing?”

Contrary to my fears, Camille is back to her happy, carefree self. Last weekend she was a mess at church, at bedtime and again at a kid fun day on base (where she hung on to my arm and wouldn’t leave my side for 90 minutes). Not even the carnival games and prizes they were giving away could tempt her to participate. But by the following morning she seemed to have shaken off her nervousness and has been dancing around, singing, and playing dress up.

Playing with mom’s scarf collection

This week we spent a lot of time at school and maybe that has helped. We were there for Middle School orientation (for Caleb!) and a Middle Schooler parent meeting. While the adults were getting info from the principal, the new students were meeting with returning students who were there to answer questions, share personal experiences, and give tours of the school. I love that my two older boys are willing to volunteer to help the new students feel comfortable (They are part of the Student2Student organization at school). As a bonus, when I saw that Calvin was assigned to lead Caleb’s group of students and parents for the school tour, I ran off to pick up all the kids’ bus passes while the line was short.

We also were at school for a second day this week to find out which class Camille will be in for Kindergarten and to meet her teacher. I knew God had provided the perfect fit when we walked into the classroom and saw the walls decorated with oversized candy, cookies and cupcakes and the motto “learning is sweet!” My little sugar junkie will be right at home there, surrounded by her favorite things. Her teacher is a kindred spirit: it was her birthday and she admitted she had eaten chocolate cake for breakfast.

Camille is still a little nervous and counting off days on her fingers. “This is the day we go to church, this is the day mommy is doing her competition (oh Lord, that will be a future post if I survive — CrossFit related), this is the day the boys start school, this is the day that I go meet my teacher . . . 5 days until she starts school.

I think this will be the hardest adjustment — for both of us. The early mornings. The bus comes at 7:10 and this is her, fast asleep at 8:30am. She might not fall asleep at night, but she makes up for it in the mornings.

I can’t imagine that she can be comfortable without blankets and wedged into the spaces that she gets herself into, but that’s who she is. She fights sleep until she crashes. I joke that someday I’m going to put together a book of all the photos I’ve taken of her asleep in impossible positions.

Staying awake until 11 isn’t going to work when she has to get up at 6:30.

The end of summer is going to hurt for all of us.

Whenever I wake up in the morning, I never know where I’m going to find her sleeping. One night last week Josh panicked because he couldn’t find her in any of the beds. After a few minutes of searching we found her fast asleep under the bed pictured above, right next to the cat. She had low crawled under the bed to get as close to the cat as possible, and then drifted off to dreamland. They only found her because they could hear her snoring from somewhere in the room.

I expect the first week of school to feature a lot of this. Stay tuned.

Looking in a mirror

This past week has been packed full of summer stuff. Reuniting with friends who are returning to the island after a summer away, youth group game day and a trip to the water park for my teens, meeting up with a Marine friend whose ship is in port, and on top of it all, every morning I’m dragging my butt to CrossFit and after that hour of pain, everything I do for the rest of the day feels like a physical challenge.

School starts in one week. Boo. I love summer and relaxed schedules and no homework. Camille would probably also prefer this summer to go on forever because she starts kindergarten in 10 days (she begins a few days after the boys) and the fear is rising.

She started with, “I’m excited and a little nervous.” then it was, “I’m a lot nervous, but a little excited.” And now it’s, “I’m a lot scared and a little nervous.” Poor thing. I’ve been there a million times.

This past week at Friday School at church, it was all fine until the teacher said the kids could draw pictures of their friends or family or people around the world — the point being that God’s love was for everyone. My little perfectionist sat for about 10 minutes, rolling the marker between her palms and looking around the room.

My girlie loves to draw and color, but today she felt like anything she did wouldn’t be good enough. Where do those mental messages originate?!? There must be a place in the brain that creates them, because she’s not hearing it from anywhere else. She kept saying, “it’s too hard!” I made the mistake of replying, “Baby, it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you try. Just like in kindergarten.”

Then I could see the waterfall of fear begin — the pressure, the unknown. This drawing suddenly represented all the failures she was sure to experience in school. She didn’t say any of this, but I remember those days. I remember my little red sweater and new shoes and how I worried for weeks before I started school. My girlie, she’s so much like me. Sucks to be her.

When I made the first markings on her paper for her (she needed “help”), she started to fill in a few details, but covered her work so no one could see.

This is where my mental illness began. I pray I can help her learn to deal with her anxiety so she doesn’t end up the way I did.

And then the pressure builds and up well the tears.

Laughing and crying at the same time. Laughing because she knows she’s being crazy and crying because she can’t help it. Yep. That’s my mini-me.

All this over a fun coloring project at church. She’s a mess.

Her emotions were totally raw and it was at this point that I finally realized that it was related to fear about starting school.

And then the sobbing started and she ended up in my arms like a baby. The next 10 days are going to be tough. For her sake I wish we could hurry up and get to the first day. Waiting for something to begin is the worst part of being us. We torture ourselves more terribly mentally than anything we’d ever face in real life.

I’m sure she’ll love it, but I told her if she can’t hack it, then we can always wait a year. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a kindergartener in school, so it’s a first for both of us.