If I Had a Blog This is what I'd say...

Not sure I should be blogging, as I am feel like I could burst into tears very easily. I'm only on day three (or maybe four...it's hard to keep track with the time change), and I'm feeling awfully lonely. True, I have had a tiring day and I'm feeling the effects of my short sleep last night, but even though there are reasons for my "blue-ness", it doesn't make it any easier.

Last trip I was travelling with several other Canadians, and almost every night we went out for dinner. I was busy and didn't have a lot of time to think about home. Tonight the two men I'm working with went out to dinner to a very good, but men-only, restaurant, so I was on my own again for dinner. This hotel room is beginning to feel very familiar.

It also doesn't help that my first day training was a bit of a flop. No fault of mine, but the room wasn't set up for us, so there was no internet and no laptops for the people I was training to use. I managed to get internet for myself, and so the day basically consisted of me blabbing away about the system and providing a demo. No hands-on activities for the attendees. Talk about a crappy way to learn. It looks like things will be set up properly for tomorrow, so hopefully the day will go better.

Really feeling quite pathetic right now, so I think I'll go read and then go to bed. Hopefully a more uplifting post will appear tomorrow.

I can do a three hour time change with no issues, whether I'm flying east or west. I may sleep in a bit the next day, but I am not fatigued and I have no trouble sleeping.

Ten hour time change...not so much. As with last time, the first night was fine. I slept so little on the trip here that I was able to sleep 11 hours that first night and hardly wake up at all. I managed to plow through yesterday without napping, and I went to bed at 10:00 pretty tired. I fell asleep easily, and then woke up just before 1 am, WIDE awake. I popped half an Ativan (I didn't want to take a whole one because I was due to get up at 6:30) but that didn't seem to help. I tossed and turned, and then, about an hour later (I want to say, for sympathy's sake, that it was just as I was falling back asleep, but I doubt it), some idiot rang my doorbell. This hotel has LOUD door bells that belt out two short rings. I got up and asked who was there, and of course there was no answer. Through the peep hole I could see someone standing by another door so I suspect they had the wrong room.

I fell back asleep eventually, only to wake again at 5 am. I stopped trying at that point. So I've spent a leisurely morning eating breakfast, showering, checking email and drinking tea. Or as leisurely as I can be, given that I'm a bit freaked out about my upcoming day...more on that later, once I've survived the day. Because I WILL survive it. :)

I'm sitting in a hotel room 11,000 km from home. I've been sitting here for almost 24 hours straight, as there's not much a woman on her own can do in Saudi. And before that I was sitting in an airplane, airport or taxi for over 30 hours. It's been a great two days!

Yes, I'm in Saudi again, in Jeddah. Today was the day I was supposed to leave for Portland for the half marathon I've been training for, but alas I was needed here so I agreed to come. There will be other half marathons.

The trip was long but uneventful. I had worked myself up into a panic for a few days before I left because I was paranoid I'd be stranded at the airport (actually my imagination went way further than stranded...apprehended and maimed are more accurate). By the time I landed in Jeddah I had calmed down considerably, partly because I had received email notification that someone would in fact be coming to get me, and partly because I was so bloody exhausted that actual emotion wasn't an option. But then I was held up in customs as they fingerprinted every second or third person going through (myself included), and I once again starting panicking, thinking they would come but get tired of waiting and give up. I finally got through customs, got my bag and walked into the pick up area, scanning for someone holding my name. Never have I been so happy to see "Susan Elizabeth Fox" written down on a card! "That's me" I called out joyfully. The driver probably thought I was nuts.

I spent the weekend in Jeddah last time I was here, and as I was driven to the hotel last night it was somewhat comforting to see some familiar sights. And the hotel I'm staying in is a heck of a lot nicer than the one I stayed in last time, so being "locked" in here isn't so bad. I did take a quick trip to the lobby to get cash, but that was it. I just don't want to draw any attention to myself so I didn't go outside. Not to mention that it's 40 degrees and I'm covered in black. That said, it is a bit disappointing to feel so trapped. I know from the bit of reading I've done that there are women who travel alone to Saudi and actually get out and do a few things, but they are few and far between. I am far from an adventurous traveller, so when there are web sites out there saying don't do anything alone, I tend to listen.

I'm feeling pretty tired so I think I'll stop here. More to come over the next few days.

Usually when I sit down to write a blog post I have a pretty solid idea of what I'm going to say. I've usually crafted parts of the post in my head (this is one of the things I do when I run, write blog posts in my head), and I sometimes have a catchy title as well. And I certainly know what I'm going to write about...

I have not done that tonight. And no, this is NOT going to be a post about how little I've been posting, since that would be one of my blogging pet peeves. But I am going to break my mould and write about more than one topic. Because tonight I actually have time and energy to post something, but I don't know what exactly I want to write. So I'm just going to spew.

First, the training is going well. I ran for an hour and 45 minutes on Saturday morning (we won't talk about how far that actually was because I am still way short of 21.1 km) and rode for just under two hours on Sunday afternoon (after much procrastination, and I *will* talk about how far the ride was because it was almost 40 km, I did some hills, and I averaged 20 km/h...not bad for riding alone late on a Sunday afternoon, tired from a busy weekend). I'm so far injury free, which isn't all that surprising because I haven't been injury prone, but I am a good seven years older than I was the last time I ran a half marathon, so you never know what might happen.

On the not-so-bright side, there is a good chance that I will be out of the continent for the half marathon, as my next Saudi trip is planned for May 15 - May 31st. Plans change weekly on this front, so I'm still holding out some hope, however they have started my visa application process again, and this usually means things are a bit more concrete. I've had a lot of time to get used to this idea so I'm not as bummed as you might think. Actually, that's not true. I'm very bummed about missing a weekend away with my hubby, no children and six good friends. But run-wise I think I will try to find another run to do. Either that or totally bail on it. Interestingly enough, that second option is not very appealing. I am quite excited about this challenge of training for a half AND the Tour de Victoria, so I think another run is what's in store for me.

Second up. Amy. She's turning four in nine days. FOUR. Four was a big one for me with Elliot. It seems so much older than three. I feel the same way with Amy. She's turned into a big girl. Yesterday she started a set of swim lessons at the rec centre. She's done lessons recently through daycare, but it's the first time I've been at her lessons when I'm not going in the pool with her. She got right into it and was glowing through the whole lesson. She looked like she was having a ball...with a teacher she'd never met and four other kids she'd never met. Whose kid is this? Has she always been so brave?

She continues to have her own sense of style and it's one of the many things I love about her. I still remember the one day, long ago when she was two, when she had just mastered dressing herself, and I cringed at what she'd chosen to wear, but decidedly kept my mouth shut. That day, I remember making it clear to her care providers that she'd dressed herself. I remember talking to friends at work about how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut. But I did, and I'm so happy I did, because we are constantly entertained by her choice of outfits, and now it doesn't ever cross my mind that I should explain her outfit to anyone else. This is Amy, pure and simple. Layers, stripes-with-flowers, socks-on-the-outside-of-her-pants, skirts-with-dresses, sun-hat-with-a-winter-coat, five-outfits-a-day Amy.

Third. Elliot. I said on his birthday that I would write more about Elliot at six. Since I talked about clothing and Amy, and since clothing has been an issue with Elliot, I'll talk about Elliot's current relationship with clothing. In short, it's much better than it was. He now has about five pairs of pants that he'll happily wear, and not all of them are blue. They are all still sweatpants, but he's broadened his horizons a little bit colour-wise. As for t-shirts, he'll pretty much wear anything now. We had a bunch of hand-me-down t-shirts that he wouldn't touch last year, and about four months ago both Greg and I subtly tried getting him to wear them by putting them at the top of his shirt drawer. Without a word, he started wearing them. All of them. We haven't had a clothing battle in months and it's awesome. That said, he'd still rather live in his pj's, but I'll take what I can get.

He has a great sense of humour, and he's able to use his body and facial expressions as part of his humour. He's reading more and more every day, and he's loving the French. He's also an anxious kid and he complains of stomach aches at school. That's a whole other post that might not get written. For now we are supporting him as much as we can, and if it becomes something we can't handle, we'll get help. I'm not nearly as at peace with it as that statement sounds, but I'm trying not to project into the future regarding what this means for him as he navigates through life. I also need to remember that I was an anxious child, am still an anxious adult, and one of the most important things to teach Elliot is coping mechanisms.

He still rages, however not as often as he used to, and he recovers more quickly. It still worries me, especially when we're in the middle of it. He has such a tumultuous personality and he's not always the easiest person to live with. I've learned that walking away is not helpful at all, although I still do it at times if his behaviour is making me angry. Because yelling at him when he's in the middle of it is useless. I can also talk to him more about it afterwards, and he seems to listen to what I say, and often can explain how he was feeling, once he's calmed down.

Finally, me. I have been thinking a lot lately about parenting, more than I have since Elliot was three and on a hitting rampage. As siblings the two of them often have extremely endearing moments together (like tonight when Elliot was the mum, Amy was the baby and Elliot was reading -- really reading -- to her). They also often have moments where they are hitting, kicking and sitting on each other. I say Elliot has a tumultuous personality, but Amy does too, she just recovers much more quickly. So together they ride a roller coaster. I have lost my patience with them too many times to count, and every time I yell at them I feel terrible afterwards. I am trying not to yell as much. I'm trying to remember the mantra I thought up a few months ago, "parent like somebody's watching". But I question my methods, I question whether what I say to them is getting through to them, I question whether I'm royally screwing them up (although as my good friend Hillary pointed out to me this past weekend, what kid doesn't get screwed up by their parents...good advice, and I should lower my expectations).

I have moments where I feel I'm the queen of all mothers, and other moments where I feel like a truly suck. It's a bit unsettling.

But all that said, I had the best day I've had with them for a long time this past Wednesday, and I think it renewed my faith in myself a bit, and faith in the fact that they truly are great kids, fighting, bickering and meltdowns aside. I will endeavour to not lose sight of that.

Elliot turned six today. Unlike last year's all day party, this year the party started in the afternoon after we got home from school. We had family friends over for dinner as well as his Gramma, Auntie and Uncle. His meal choice was spaghetti and meatballs and he was pretty happy about the big meatballs I made.

The cake was a rocket ship, and it turned out pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. I've really been enjoying making the cakes for the kids' birthdays. Although Amy's might be interesting...she wants a cake shaped like a cup (?!). And no, she does not mean a cake shaped like a cupcake.

For gifts Elliot got Lego, Playmobil, a couple of puzzles, some clothing and three chapter books. He spent most of the afternoon/evening building the Lego, with a couple of breaks for eating and Playmobil.

I'm planning to do another post with some thoughts about my six-year-old boy, but I'll end this post by saying how proud I am of my daughter. She was a trooper all day, telling people it was her brother's birthday, calling him the birthday boy, handing him presents without once asking to open one, hardly playing with any of his new toys, and generally being a sweetheart despite all the attention her brother was getting. It was lovely to see.

I was in Delicado's this morning and while I was waiting for my food, I browsed through some knitted products and jewellery they had for sale. I saw a pair of purple leg warmers with a fluffy white cuff that I knew Amy would love, and so I bought them. Greg helped her put them on tonight and she enthusiastically told me they were great, and thanked me for them. I knew they'd be a hit, but it was still nice to hear such an enthusiastic reaction.

Tonight, of course, she is sleeping in them, and she just walked to the bathroom and asked us to check out her "warm leggers".

I haven't biked much, but I ran on Wednesday and Friday last week, and Sunday morning, after a shitty sleep, after clearing my eyes of the lovely pink eye crusties, and with a sore throat, I set forth in the pouring rain and ran longer than I have in seven years -- for 60 minutes. And it was twice around upper Thetis so it wasn't a mamby-pamby flat run either.

I rock.

Let me preface this post by saying (for those of you who don't know) that "bopp" is Amy's blanket, and she loves it dearly.

I didn't have the greatest day yesterday, and right before dinner Amy and I took a quick trip down to the grocery store to pick up something we needed for dinner. As I was backing out of our parking spot I heard and felt a loud crash, and I realized I'd hit a concrete light post that I had parked beside. That's never a good thing, but it was the last thing I needed yesterday. I took a peek and for some odd reason I couldn't see any damage, which was great, but I was shaken.

As I drove home I explained to Amy that I might cry when I told Daddy about hitting the post. I was near tears at that point and I knew telling him would be my turning point. I was trying to reassure her that I was fine, but just feeling a bit sad. There was a pause, and the next thing I heard from the back seat was: Mummy, you can borrow my bopp, but I'll need it back before bedtime.

It's nice to get reminders of what matters in this life, and the fact that my daughter was aware of my feelings and willing to lend me her most prized possession to help me feel better matters a lot to me.

Saturday I went for my longest run in a while -- 7.5 km -- and Sunday afternoon I rode the trainer for 30 minutes (even though I would have MUCH preferred to have a nap). But I've done nothing since then. It snowed. I got a cold. Work was busy. School and daycare were cancelled. I still feel sick. There is still snow on the ground.

It's only a few days missed, but I was doing so well that I feel a bit disappointed in myself. I guess in a way it's a good thing that the snow coincided with my cold. Next week there will be no snow, I should be feeling better and I'll get back into it.

12 days into January...so far I've done two rides, four runs (one of which was in the pouring rain, and two more of which were in sub-zero temperatures) and one swim. I'd say things are going well.

All of my runs have been with a woman who lives in my neighbourhood, and I can say with certainty that I wouldn't have run four times in the last week had it not been for her. When my alarm goes off at 6:10 in the morning the LAST thing I want to do is get out of my warm bed, go outside and run. Ick. But knowing I have to meet someone gets me moving, and once I start I enjoy it. She's a slow runner like me, and much as I say I like running alone, it's been great having company.

On Tuesday night I woke up with some pretty severe pain just above my right knee, enough pain to wake me up. Wednesday morning we had planned a run so I dutifully got out of bed and limped downstairs. And still went running. This is how I've dealt with all my running injuries over the past few years. None of them are major and I just run through them. It's probably pretty stupid but it seems to work. By the end of Wednesday's run it was feeling better, then I ran again this morning. It was still a bit painful, but it gradually got better throughout the day and I don't feel any pain now. One day this method's not going to work, but I'll keeping doing it until that day comes.

I've got a ride planned for Sunday and I should get a run in as well, but we've got a pretty packed weekend so I'm not sure that'll happen. Just the first weekend of many where I'll have to juggle a few too many things and something will fall. Makes me feel even better about how much I've done in the past 12 days. There will be good weeks and bad weeks, and that's okay.