Tag: growing up

feelings

library cards

abby mumford

i love books. this is not a surprise if you’ve read any of my posts. i read books, i buy them, i borrow them, i work on them at my day job, and yet, i can’t help but be amazed by the stories others tell me about them.

*****

this past weekend, i was at a friend’s baby shower and in lieu of a card, the hostesses had requested we bring a book to start the baby’s library. this idea charmed me, but also rattled me. there are SO MANY GREAT BOOKS out there, how could i ever decide on just one for this baby?

my automatic buy for babies is usually any book by sandra boynton. the board books are sturdy and bright, but most importantly, silly. the words and pictures are crisp and clean and hilarious. how can you not love a book that caters to both babies and parents? however, the countdown to the shower was closer than i realized and i had no time to run to the store. i turned to my own bookshelf.

(why do i have kids’ books on my shelf, you ask? i used to work for a large, corporate, trade publisher in the juvenile division and kept all the best books i (and my coworkers) worked on.)

i settled on THE POLAR EXPRESS.

for me, this book didn’t hold the weight it does for others. christmas books were/are abundant in my parents’ house, but i had zero memories of reading this particular book as a child and as such, my only memories of it were the struggles i incurred while working on the 25th anniversary edition which included the book, a slipcase, a cd, a sticker, and shrinkwrap. it was my first “kit” and there were a lot of moving parts when you were in the production department…

anyways, i realized my experience with this book was in the vast minority, so i tenderly pulled the book off my shelf and prepared it for the shower. when it was time for the mama-to-be to open my gift, she held it high so everyone could see. her mother in law immediately ran over to me with tears in her eyes.

“that’s the first book [my son] picked out when he got his first library card,” she whispered.

*****

until recently, the library in sister J and BILT’s town was a tiny store at the local mall because the main building was under construction, but as soon as the newly renovated library re-opened, a family outing was planned.

it turns out you have to be four years old to get your own library card. baby mac is three. that didn’t stop her.

while sister J was registering for the cards, BILT, baby mac, and bubba mac perused the kids’ section. baby mac was overjoyed with the selection and in fact, would pull a book off the shelf, race over to sister J to show her the new option, and then return to BILT to pick out another one. she ended up selecting four books that day to take home.

first choices

four books may not seem like a lot but it’s a strong enough foundation to support a lifelong love of books.

do YOU have any book stories to add to my collection?

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feelings

a tale of two ski trips

abby mumford

winters can be suspiciously long if you don’t partake in some sort of winter sport (especially when you live in NE or colorado or utah or anywhere else a lot of snow can be found), so thank goodness for new friends who ski and old friends with newfound abilities.

after snowboarding lessons (in 2000) ruined my skiing techniques (from childhood), i focused almost exclusively on shredding. in fact, i own my gear and i’ve gone snowboarding once a year every year (since 2000).

i’m no expert, but i’m no novice either.

two weekends ago, i happily strapped in to tear up the mountain with the old friends with newfound abilities. this time however, the mountain won. let’s just say my helmet paid for itself because otherwise i’d have knocked myself unconscious. twice.

playing the pansy card, i left the others on the mountain and spent some time warming up in the lodge and pondering why fear was so pervasive that day. as i’ve gotten older, i’ve grown less and less fond of speed because the faster i go, the less control i have / i’m hyper aware of what i have to lose should i sustain an injury BUT snowboarding isn’t something new to me. i have many mountains notched on my proverbial snowboarding belt.

why was i so scared?

it’s most likely because my attention was focused on keeping up and popping up after a fall and maintaining momentum and not being left behind and guilt i was slowing the group down.

i resolved to try again after lunch because i knew i could do better. i pushed myself, but ended the day after only a few more runs and a bout of whiplash and a decision there was no way i could snowboard the very next weekend (which i had previously committed to). i dragged my bruised body inside and wondered what to do next. i’d hoped this trip would be a warm up for the next weekend when a new friend and i traveled to vermont, but instead, all i managed to do was freak myself out.

despite the massive bruising and strained muscles, i couldn’t back out and so instead of falling down the mountain on the next trip, i fell back on old habits and rented skis. i partnered up with people who were at my skill level and took the easy way down. the skis felt familiar. my muscles burned with recognition. my smile bloomed. i was in control, until i wasn’t, but with years of practice behind me, i could contain both my speed and the voice in my head screeching “i’m going too fast too fast too fast i can’t stop i’m going too fast!!!” and enjoy the ride.

oh, how quickly i forgot the fear from the snowboarding weekend. in fact, i was so jazzed i even convinced my new friend to join us for a trip to the top of the mountain even though it was her first time on skis. trust me, when it’s your first time on skis, any slope looks steep.

talk about bravery (on her part) and peer pressure (on my part).

that trip up consisted of four of us: two newbies, two “teachers”. it took us around an hour to reach the bottom (vs. 15 minutes when i went solo), and it was my favorite run of the day.

since i was with people with less experience than me, it was my job to coach and encourage and lead by example. my focus wasn’t on my abilities, but theirs. i wasn’t racing to keep up. we skied it one turn at a time and took frequent breaks and discussed the patterns we carved in the snow and the best route down and icy patches and helped each other up.

it’s a whole different experience when you’re the one not smeared on the ground.

after they decided they’d had enough, i decided i hadn’t. i hopped on the lift and went for four more runs. me, the girl who can’t go anywhere without getting lost and who (realizes now) skis/snowboards for the social (not speed) aspect, went alone. my confidence was up even if my technical abilities were not, and okay, fine, i went down the same run three of four times. i didn’t trust myself not to end up on the other side of the mountain which was covered in black diamond (expert) trails.

sure i could have survived those trails, but for me, the fun part isn’t about the challenge. it’s about the camaraderie and being in control and being in the fresh air and working my muscles and being active and hanging with friends.

what was that about me being a slow learner?

have you ever tried something new and wished you hadn’t? have you ever thought you were better at something than you actually were? do you ski? snowboard? surf? ride horses? play basketball? what color shirt are you wearing? (just seeing if you were paying attention).

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feelings

slow learner

abby mumford

the first time i heard those words was when my first creative writing assignment of my junior year of college was being handed back to me.

my professor’s words slammed into me banging around my brain ripping holes and leaving bruises only i could feel but amidst the whooshing air of that tornado of words, i caught a snippet of what she said after that.  though she wasn’t the nicest of teachers nor the best nor the most tactful, this time, her words weren’t meant to harm. they were meant as an observation.

and it was true.

she’d noticed a big difference in my writing from one semester to the next which was why she chose then to unleash her opinion.

before that moment, the only feedback re: my style of learning was receiving an A or B (okay, maybe a C in math). those letters were general and uncomplicated and simple and rarely showed how much hard work or time i’d spent (or not). i’d always known numbers weren’t my thing but to have a creative writing teacher point out something negative was a blow.

it threw me off course.

while in the weeds, i remembered something. after a long day of high school + sports practice, i would always always always go directly up to my room. i didn’t realize this was a habit nor did i consciously decide to do so nor did it occur to me this was something odd because i was unloading my books/homework/sports equipment/decompressing from my day, etc. in fact, it wasn’t until my mom told me she’d expressed her worry to my aunt A that i realized this was slightly unusual behavior.

upon hearing this, my aunt A laughed and said, of course. abby’s an introvert. she recharges her self/energy by spending time alone.

i’d always thought an introvert meant someone who was shy or a loner or something.  i was (still am) shy, but i’m also very social. i can often be found with friends and family, which didn’t fit with my understanding of what an introvert was, so this new (and very correct) definition opened my eyes. after a long day surrounded by dozens of people at all times, i was merely recharging my batteries.

as i peered up out of the you are a slow learner weeds i realized maybe being told that was like being told i was an introvert. maybe this wasn’t a bad thing but rather a new way of understanding how/who i am.

the second time i was told i was a slow learner was earlier this week. i was in the middle of doing a power clean lift and the coach was studying my movements. he’d already corrected my form during earlier instructions of how to do the snatch (tee hee) lift. i pulled the bar up (which was wrong) and into position when i realized my bottom half also landed incorrectly. i adjusted my angles and the coach, seeing my (delayed) thought process at work, applauded and said those “slow learner” words to me.

this time, i (put down the weight and) nodded.

granted, if i was ever a fast learner, it was in a sports capacity which is probably why i’ve always gravitated towards sports. weight lifting (in a crossfit arena) is completely new and foreign and i’m learning types of lifts done in the olympics and am way beyond out of my comfort zone (which is another post in and of itself). form and technique are the two most important things here, but the movements are so unnatural to me if i’m not literally thinking about each individual step as i make it, i lose it. trust me, when you’re holding a kettle ball or a barbell with heavy weights or you’re in a handstand holding your own body weight, it’s not the time to lose focus, form, or technique.

but it’s difficult holding such strict concentration when also struggling to lift heavy things and count reps and listen to the coach and decide if you can do more and compare your progress to those around you and you’re still lifting and it’s still heavy and am i almost done and wait, how was my form on that one.

it’s exhausting. it’s exciting. it’s difficult.

just because i know i’m a slow learner doesn’t make it any easier to accept that fact, especially when you add in my perfectionism and my competitive nature… SO instead of thinking about the ways and pace at which i learn, i should probably start trying to figure out tricks to get my brain into gear faster because this is incredible, is it not?

any tips or hints? are you a slow or fast learner? visual or auditory? does practice make perfect? how do i practice without a barbell at home? should i drop and give you twenty?

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feelings

check THAT off the list

abby mumford

there has always been this one thing on my life to do list that i hadn’t shared with many people since it’s, well, a loaded topic.

what was that thing?

shooting a gun.

no one in my family hunts or owns a gun (to my knowledge), so i’ve never been around a gun before. i don’t even really like action movies with too much violence, but for some reason, i’ve always wanted to shoot a gun. i mean, something other than that orange remote controlled duck hunt ninetendo game thing.

lo and behold, this thanksgiving, i found myself surrounded by a cop and a doctor, wearing protective eye and ear gear and standing in front of a target. before this moment, i watched a five minute safety video and got a quick rundown of the gun + its parts, and then, it was go time.

so THAT’S what the back of my head looks like

after holding the gun(s) in my hands, i understood why i wanted to try it in the first place.

POWER.

it was scary and nerve wracking and interesting and creepy and unlike anything i had ever experienced and exactly like i had expected though much, much louder.

the recoil was jerky and uncontrollable and confusing because from my time playing (or trying) almost every sport under the sun, the way your arm followed through generally determined the arc/angle/ending point of the ball/puck, and when the gun jerked up after the trigger was pulled, it shocked me the bullet didn’t travel a similar, uneven path and end up 12 meters higher than i aimed for.

not bad for a novice, eh?

having finally (and randomly) checked this off my life’s goals list, i want everyone to follow suit. i know this is usually the time of year we’re all reviewing what we did and planning for the new one, but instead of making resolutions, i recommend getting out there and doing them.

starting now.

but be safe! and follow all the rules! and surround yourself with experts! (i mean, hello, could one be any safer at a gun range than with a cop and a doctor? i don’t think so.)

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feelings

fall break

abby mumford

speaking of seeing professionals in their natural work habitat, sister E had a chance to see me in my home habitat. she had two days off for her collegiate fall break and parents who were willing to book her a flight, and so, she arrived. she’s been to boston lots of times, but always with a car full of family members.

this time, it was just her and me.

she got to see the (not so glamorous) two room studio i rent, and walk the neighborhood trails i frequent, and buy books from my mecca, and eat the (not so glamorous) meals i cook, and freeze in the apartment with the broken furnace and see what real life landlords are like (slow), and watch the first season of the oh so addictive DOWNTON ABBEY, and face time with sister J and baby and bubba mac, and go to the local college’s football game, and mesh in with the food truck throwdown crowds, and take public transportation, and see, really see how it is to live post-college.

but more importantly, i got to meet the adult version of sister E.

when i left for boston, she was 11 and sometimes my brain gets trapped and forgets she’s not a wee little thing anymore. i’ve heard stories that she gets to class and practice and meals on time, but i’ve never experienced it. i’ve been told she studies and gets good grades and pays for her own gasoline, but i’ve never witnessed it. i’ve been aware that she can pack her own bag and travel, but i’ve never been the final destination.

this time, she was participating in conversations and starting her own and even showing off her new found psych knowledge. she made plans with a friend and hung with him until it was time to meet me after work. she pulled out the credit card at the movies and paid for my ticket (um, thanks mom and dad). we cooked and cleaned and talked and laughed and read and talked some more. like sisters. like friends. like equals.

like the adults we are (or pretend to be).

but, it was good to find out when it came down to it, she still knew how to be silly…

sisters + face time
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