Fairy and Bug house

I was playing outside with Riley today - actually, I was trying to re-read Pride and Prejudice, but was conscripted into service in the construction of the above melange by Riley who wanted to make something out of sticks. According to her, the above structure is merely the entrance to the larger Fairy and Bug house (also known as the new deck). It’s mostly for small fairies (no more than 3 inches tall) and ladybugs, but she allows that mosquitos can live there too, as long as they stay under the deck.

Bribery will get you everywhere

One of the local churches had a 5k and kids 1 mile run. My schedule had me doing 16 miles that morning, so I couldn’t do the 5k, but I thought Riley would like the 1 mile run. As we were leaving, Jackson decided he wanted to go to. Once we arrived I pulled the stroller out of the car, but Jax wanted to RUN. So, I registered all 3 of us, and we waited for the race to start. It was challenging to get Jackson to 1) wear his number and 2)smile for the camera. After several attempts with Riley holding Jax still and Jax screaming at the top of his lungs for the picture, I caved. There was a large platter of chocolate chip cookies on a nearby table, and I promised Jax he could have one if he smiled for the camera and wore his number.

Later, we started off on the run. Jax made it about 20 feet before turning to me with arms outstretched and imploring “MOMMY I CARRY YOU”

So, I scooped him up, ran him back to the start where my friend was waiting with his 2 year old (much smarter than me, that one), and then sprinted to catch up with Riley.

She did pretty well. Finished in about 12 minutes. Not bad for someone barely 4 feet tall!

Thanksgiving in Texas

I know, I know, It’s been a while since I updated the blog. I’m still recovering from our trip to Texas.

With airline fares sky high, we made plans to drive to Texas for Thanksgiving. So, we left after Ann’s morning of work on Tuesday, piled the kids and all their accoutrements (hey, that word even stumps the spellchecker) into the car and headed for Shreveport. This is our favorite place to stay when traveling to Texas because we can stay on the base there. The next morning we got up at 5 to be on the road by 6 and get to Dallas by 9ish. I could have sworn I told this plan to my mom and dad and Brian’s sister, but I think they didn’t quite believe us (and what normal person gets a 2 year old and a 6 year old up at 5?) so at about 8:45 when I called to let them know we were almost there, they were about to head out for breakfast.
No problem, we just crashed at LouAnna’s (no problem for us, anyway. I think my aunt didn’t get breakfast - Sorry Lou!) We promptly spread a large quantity of plastic toys underfoot, and much fun was had by all.

This was actually the first time some of my family got to meet Jackson and even Riley, although Jackson’s reputation preceded him. We all went our for sushi the night before Thanksgiving. Jackson had missed his nap, and was yelling at the top of his lungs in the car while kicking the back of Brian’s seat. It did not bode well for dinner. Unfortunately, we’re quite used to eating in shifts. After we order and it becomes clear that Jax is annoying the other restaurant patrons, one parent waits quietly inside and makes polite conversation with Riley, while the other supervises Jax running in circles while shouting “PIE-POUR-TWEE-TOO-ONE... BLASTOFF!” at the top of his lungs outside the restaurant. And so it was with this restaurant trip. I got to wait inside since it was mostly my family, and Brian had Jackson outside. Once the food got to the table, Brian and Jax joined us again. We’re so used to Jax not eating much that we’re always taken aback when he does eat. We know that Riley typically consumes a large quantity of sushi and therefore plan accordingly. However even she surprised us. She consumed all 6 pieces of Tuna Nigiri (she was somewhat daunted by the wasabi, but it didn’t slow her down much) and then started in on my sushi rolls and udon noodles. The waitress had put my udon down in front of Jax, and before I though to rescue it, he’s already consumed all the tempura squash and shrimp, then decided the noodles were too hot, so he also set out to eat all my sushi rolls. By the time they’d ravaged the majority of my dinner, Jax was bored and decided it was time to go potty.

About Jackson’s potty-training... we were under the gun to get him trained last summer so that he could go to the Montessori preschool. So, we finally managed some semblance of bladder control, but he still had about 4-15 accidents a day (not an exaggeration. Usually it was around 10. We have 26 pairs of little boys underwear, and we’re always running out). We would dutifully put him in underwear in the morning and send him to school with 4 spare outfits in a plastic bag, and by noon he would come home with 2-4 wet pants in the same plastic bag. It was clearly not going well. I had mentioned to his teacher that we could go back to pull-ups, but she was certain he would come around. Then about a month ago she gave up, and now he’s in pull-ups full time. These days he reserves requests to go potty to times when it would either be inconvienent or impossible for him to find a potty (the highway on the way to catch a plane in Pensacola. At least with a little boy it’s easy to pull off and let him pee into the bushes on the side of the road, all the while fervently hoping 1) that he completely forgets about this option when he’s playing outside at preschool and 2)that no one driving by calls the cops.)

So, back to the sushi restaurant. Jackson not only had to go potty, but he had to go potty BY HIMSELF. He was adamant about this, and I kept trying to follow but he’d turn around and push me back saying “NO MOMMY, YOU STAY HERE. I GO BY MYSEFF”. After several attempts to explain why this was not an acceptable course of action in a public place, I finally scooped him up screaming and carried him to the restroom. This was a smaller restaurant, and there was only one single mens and one single women’s restroom, and the women’s was occupied. Rather than wait and have Jackson continue pounding on the door while some poor woman is trying to go, I figured “Heck, he’s a boy, he can use the men’s.” I pointed this our to Jax and he agreed, but was not about to accept any more help from me. So I watched him struggle to open the door to the restroom for a couple of minutes before I attempted to assist. “NO MOMMY, I DO IT BY MYSSEF” Fine. After another couple of minutes he cried “MOMMY, HEP ME!” and I held the door open for him, only to be told once he was inside, “ NO MOMMY, YOU STAY HERE. I GO BY MYSEFF”

This was going to be an interesting potty trip. I waited patiently outside the door with my eye to the smallest opening I could manage without provoking an outburst from Jackson, all the while the patrons and the nearby table eyed me suspiciously. I still couldn’t quite make out what was going on inside, and periodically had to actually pop my head in and check on him. Each check was met with screams of protestation and a hand put up to stop me with “NO MOMMY, I DO IT BY MYSSEF”
Check #1: Jackson standing at the potty to pee, seat up.

2: Jackson sitting on the potty, seat down.

3: Jax hanging off of the sink

(loud screeching of metal on wood)

4: Jax commandeering the chair from one side of the bathroom and pushing it to the other side of the bathroom.

5: Jax standing at the sink, on the chair, water at full force while he emptied what appeared to be the entire contents of the soap dispenser into his hands and onto the floor.

(chair screeching)

6: Jax standing at the paper towel dispenser, on the chair, pulling off those miniscule bits of paper towel that you get when your hands are wet, throwing them on the floor and trying again.

At this point I intervened. There was water running, paper towels all over the floor and we’d monopolized the men’s room long enough for me to send two or three legitimate men’s room candidates to the womens room with my apologies. Jax was somewhat indignant, but complied, and then ran out of the bathroom, up to the nearby table and let out a blood-curdling, high pitched shriek. I was close behind, and scooped him up, one arm restraining his arms around his torso and the other clamped over his mouth, while I sprinted out the front door with my apologies to the other patrons and the startled waitress and sushi chefs. Once outside I gave him a “holding” time out - where I physically restrain his arms and legs in a cradle hold and mutter “you can NOT do that” while he giggles gleefully.

Then I let him run a couple of circles before we go back into the restaurant, where I smile innocently at the perplexed expressions of the waitstaff as well as the comments from my family about how good he’s being.

Funny, I don’t ever see other moms dealing with this... maybe it’s just me.

Kids Cottages

I got up early on Sunday to run with Hilary and Misty, and Hilary mentioned that she had taken her kids to see these great kids cottages the day before. Local architects and builders had created elaborate children’s playhouses that would then be auctioned off for a local charity.
It sounded great, and since Brian and Gary were still working on the deck, I packed the kids in the car and headed down to Rosemary Beach. It took a while to get there, and I had to consult my iphone/gps a couple of times, but we finally made it.
There was an amazing treehouse with a zip line that Riley mostly monopolized, but she was pretty even about spending time in each house. Jackson, however was COMPLETELY enamored with the one shaped like a submarine being attacked by a squid. At first Riley was so excited about the next house that she skipped quickly from one to the next without giving each the attention I thought they deserved, and I had to keep calling Riley back. After the first loop around, I gave up, and just let the kids go wherever they wanted. It was an enclosed area, with only one exit. Riley ran back and forth between the zip line and any of the other houses, but Jackson mostly monopolized the “rocket” (er, submarine). The cottages were just amazing! The kids and I had a blast - well, aside from the five minutes of panic when I couldn’t figure out where Riley was. I kept walking up and down the row of cottages, looking from the house with the butterflies, to the house with the swing, to the one with the garden and back to the ones with the kitchen/pizza/icecream shop... couldn’t find her in any of the spots she usually hangs out. Imagine my surprise to find her playing in the top of the submarine!

Alright! That did it! We’ll buy THAT one! The submarine! Wait, a minute, it’s going for $28,000? Ah, well, we may just pass on that one...

Election Day in a Battleground State

I was anticipating a long wait at the polls on Tuesday, and so I got up early to vote before work. Riley’s been very excited about the election, and had gone with me to vote at the primary, so I asked her if she wanted to go with me to vote if she was awake. “No, Mommy, wake me up so I can go with you.”
Usually we walk from home to vote, but I wasn’t sure how close I’d be cutting it for getting to work, so we drove. Our favorite coffee shop opened early for election day, so we swung by for coffee (for me), hot cocoa (Riley) and a blueberry muffin and headed to our assigned voting location. We had a little extra time, so I stopped along the way to stick some extra candidate signs up at key intersections (Brian wouldn’t let me put one in the yard. However, he did leave for one of his reservist trips the weekend before the election, so I warned him that as soon as he left I was putting a sign in the yard. And I did. But then it was stolen the next night...). By the time we arrived at the polline site it was 6:40 am, and the parking lot was full, as was all the nearby parking on the street. So, we parked a ways down the road and walked.

I was amazed at how long the line already was. And we were just at the bend in the line - it started up at the front of the church, wound all the way back to the end of the parking lot and then back up to be even with the front of the church again. Riley and I consumed our breakfast, I let her play some games on my iphone, we watched a “Handy Manny” cartoon, and then shared a “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” story with the family in line behind up, and FINALLY made it to the front. Riley sat and colored (and voted on her favorite part of school), while I completed my ballot.

By the time we got home it was 7:45.... but I count it as quality time with Riley!

Marine Corps Marathon

This past weekend was my fourth marathon - the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C.
I’ve been putting off this blog entry, I just had so much to do once we got back, but here it is. It’s long-winded, and not too amusing. I mostly wrote it so that I could remember all those little detals about the run. My only time to write is generally after everyone else has gone to bed, and since I’m tired myself, I’ve skimped on the proofreading. Feel free to skim or ignore entirely!
I was raising money for the Fisher House for this marathon, and so the night before the marathon we went to the team pasta dinner. I was standing in line with Riley, loading up on penne and marinara, and I heard screaching coming from the other buffet table. I found myself thinking “Wow, that’s a loud kid, sure glad Brian has Jackson under control.”
Uh, well, no. That was Jackson. I looked over to find him running in circles and yelling while Brian precariously balanced 2 plates with one hand and tried to catch Jax with the other on one of his numerous laps around Brian’s legs.
Anyway, we had a very interesting dinner. I got to meet some fellow runners and fundraisers, and some of them raised a TON of money. One guy at our table had raised almost $9,000... and he was injured, and not even running!
The next morning we scooped the kids into their carseats, and Brian took me to the metro station at 6AM. After trying to decipher the intricacies of the smartcard machine, consulting with the attentant, trying to figure the machine out again, extracting the attendant from his booth and finally making it onto the metro... I met a slew of other marathoners, all as bleary eyed and caffeine deprived as I was.
The Marine Corps Marathon had a very strange set-up. I could get off at the first metro stop, venture to the “Runner’s Village” where there were port-a-potties, bagels and UPS trucks where you could check a gear bag to be transported to the finish line. But then I would have to either get back on the metro and go to the second metro stop for the start, or walk the half mile to the start. And although it seems petty to quibble over an extra half mile when I’m about to run a marathon... it’s AN EXTRA HALF MILE WHEN I’M ABOUT TO RUN A MARATHON! So, I opted to just head straight to the start. It was a chilly morning, so I had a layer of disposable clothing on over my running clothes, and I was planning on shedding layers as the race progressed.
As I got off the metro found my way to the start I did begin to have reservations about one conspicuously absent feature... portapotties. I found myself wandering along the start corals, growing increasingly panicked... until I finally found them back at the 6 hour corral.
Anyway, back at my own corral with an hour ‘til the start, I hopped around for a bit, trying to warm up. Then remembered that I may want to conserve my energy, and headed to the side to consume a gu, and wish I’d brought some water (next time I’ll know better). Mostly I just watched all the other marathoners, eavesdropped on their conversations and waited for the start. With about 20 minutes to go, I shed by sweatpants (ones I think I’ve owned since high school).
I did run into another doc from work - one of the pediatricians. I had remembered he was running, but what are the odds of running into someone when there’s 30,000+ waiting for the start.
As time for the race to start approached, the marines presented the flag, played the national anthem and provided fly-bys from several types of air frames. The coolest was the “Osprey” - the one with two propellars that can be like a helicopter or an airplane...
It was a gorgeous morning, and the start of the run was through a beautiful stretch of roads with tall trees and leaves that were starting to turn orange and yellow. Which brings up another question about marathons. There’s were tons of portapotties at the runner’s village and at the start. So, why do vast numbers of men have to scurry off to the side of the road to pee within the first 5 miles? Really. That’s just poor planning.
One of my favorite views of the race was just after mile 3, we ran over the Key Bridge. There was fog coming off of the Potomac and it blanketed Georgetown University. The only visible structures were the very tops of some buildings and 2 spires rising above the fog. It was gorgeous. Then we turned onto a road that paralleled the Potomac. There were trees arching overhead, a low stone wall along the road and we were running through the fog and mist.
As I was enjoying all this scenery, I glanced over to my right... and saw a line of heads bobbing above the picturesque stone wall... heading at about a 30 degree angle up the side of this apparent mountain we were running on. Great.
The next few miles were up and down - and I really haven’t figured out how to run even splits when you’re on hills. I’d try and keep my effort stable, and so my pace would swing from 8:30 one mile to 7:54 the next.
Then we swept past the Lincoln Memorial and ran along the East Potomac Park and Golf Course. Also very pretty, but not a lot of crowd support.
This brought us to mile 16, and the National Mall. There were tons of spectators and lots of crowd support. And most importantly, it was were I planned on meeting Brian, Riley and Jackson. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to pick them out from the crowd, so when I finally did see them I was ecstatic. This is always the point at which Brian takes a picture, so instead of looking cool and tough, I always look a bit silly and overly enthusiastic. I waved with both hands, and ran over for hugs from the kids, then was off again. By this point, my right knee was also starting to bother me, which is more problematic not because it hurts, but because I worry about what it could mean (torn meniscus? ileotibial band syndrome?). But I motored on. I didn’t really meet anyone to chat with along the course, but there were lots of characters. One guy was wearing a shirt that he had scrawled “Run Forrest Run” on the front. So for the next 2 miles I got to hear that chanted over and over again as random spectators decided it was so funny that they had to read it back to the guy. It’s got old fast. Of course, this was the same guy that would charge at particularly quiet portions of the crowd, wave his arms about over his head and shout “COME ON! YELL! WE NEED YOU!” I suppose to elicit more crowd support. But all I could think was... “You’re going to need that energy in a couple of miles... are you nuts?”
We ran in front of the capital building, and swung around to the other side of the mall. Brian and the kids were going to walk back across to see me again. So when I ran past the food station handing out Sport jelly beans I grabbed an extra pack so I’d have one for each kid. I tried to grab the pink ones, but missed, and I think I accidentally wound up grabbing the caffeinated ones. I then handed them off to Riley when I passed them again in front of the Smithsonian. I didn’t stop to chat this time, it was about mile 18, and I was getting to that point in the race where I worry that if I stop I may not start again. So I just shoved both the packs into Riley’s hands, and hoped that she’d 1)share with Jackson (she did , of course) 2) not be upset that I didn’t pause to lean down and give her a hug and 3) not get too revved on the caffeine.
After the mall we ran through a street festival area called Crystal City. I suppose I would have enjoyed this part more, but it was an out and back part of the course. I truly dislike out and back parts. I spend the whole time out thinking “Oh, man, where’s the end? Do I really have to turn around and come back all this way?” Then on the way back I find myself thinking “Wow, do I look that tired?”. After this it all got very nebulous. I think I heard people complaining about the desolate stretches of highway and the lack of crowd support, but it was all a blur. And honestly, I find spectators at this stage of the marathon just make me irritable. How many times do I have to hear “Only 2 more miles! You’re almost there!” from perky people on the sideline standing with their fuzzy sweatshirts and morning coffee. I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY MILES ARE LEFT, AND NO I’M NOT ALMOST THERE. I’LL BE ALMOST THERE WHEN I CAN SEE THE FINISH LINE. THIS IS NOT ALMOST THERE. THIS IS THE HARDEST PART!
I really do know they’re trying to be helpful, and I appreciate it now, but I really appreciate very little between miles 20 and 25. I don’t know what I would rather them say.....
Finally, we made it - mile 26. The trick with the Marine Corps Marathon is that the final 0.2 miles are up the hill to the Iwo Jima memorial. Everyone complains about it, but really, it’s so close to the end, that I wasn’t particularly bothered. I crossed the finish line at 3:49 and change. I would have liked to go faster, but it was such an enjoyable run that I don’t mind the slow time.
After crossing the finish line, there were tons of marines there to put the medal on my neck, and distribute water and powerade. I ventured over to have my picture taken in front of the memorial with my medal, and then sought out the Team Fisher House Tent where my family was waiting. This was one of the nicest things about running with a charity team. They had a tent with bagels, coffee, hot cocoa (which is as good a recovery drink as chocolate milk in a pinch) and massage therapists. I found the family. Brian and Riley gave me congratulatory hugs, and Jackson was asleep in his stroller. We lounged about and consumed some carbs before heading off to the finisher’s festival. In retrospect, next time we’ll skip the finisher’s festival, but we thought it would be the closest metro stop, and I do like to soak up every aspect of the marathon festivities. Really, I love the expo, I love comraderie of the pre-race start corral, I love punching the start button as I cross the timing mat, I love all the cheering and bell ringing along the way (except for miles 20-25), I love crossing the finish line, smiling for the finish line camera and then punching the stop button on my GPS (26.44 miles this time... I think that’s my shortest marathon yet). Then I also love all the festivities at the end - all the food and expecially all the free stuff at the sponsor booths.
We treked through the massive crowds until we found an ominously long line of people emanating from the general direction of the metro stop. Yes, this was the line to get into the metro station. It was crazy. I think we waited for about an hour to get into the metro station. Of course, this was compounded in complexity by Jackson decided he HAD TO GO POTTY just as we were nearing the end of the line. I don’t get it, he has no issues with being wet when he’s in underwear, but put him in a pull-up (as he was for the marathon, especially because of the lack of easily accessable potty facilities) and suddenly he must only pee in a potty. We try to tell him just to wait, but it is clear from the panicked look on his face that he can’t. We’ve been working so hard to get him to tell us when he needs to go potty, that I couldn’t just tell him to pee in his diaper. So, I scooped him out of the stoller and wend in search of a potty. There was an office building nearby with a couple of restaurants, and I figured they had to have some facilites inside. I was a little worried that someone would chastize me for venturing into an off-limits area, but hey, a 2 year old boy screaming “I GOTTA POTTY” over and over is like an instant backstage pass. Once we did find a potty (with a line down the hall) it even got us ahead of everyone. (Thank you, thank you thank you to the nice blonde lady at the front of the line!)
After our mission was accomplished, I headed back out to the massive metro line to try and find Brian. It was a miracle that I did - since in the crush of the post race frenzy to the metro he couldn’t hear the cell phone I was calling. And we all finally made it onto the metro and back to my friend’s house in Alexandria.
It was a great run, and I think I may actually do it again next year!

Taller than it looked

For all his bluster, Jackson is not exactly adventurous. We had corralled the kids into the car and headed over to Destin Commons for a festival that was raising funds for Riley’s school. There were arts and crafts booths and bouncies for the kids. Riley is an old pro at the bouncies, and zips up and down them with barely a second thought (although, this was definitely not always the case!). I keep forgetting the Jackson’s bark is worse than is bite, and so after a few successful laps on the little slide, I let him go up the big one with Riley. It was very cute watching her help him up, holding his hand the whole way. Once they got to the top, though, it was every kid for herself. Riley was so excited to slide down, the she left Jackson at the top.
And the more Jackson looked at the slide and thought about his prior experiences with gravity, the less convinced he was that this was a good idea. He kept wandering back to the way he came up, but apparently that looked scary from the top, too.
After a tense few minutes, the teenager working the slide scrambled to the top (she actually needed very little encouragement, I suspect she’d been itching for an excuse to get to slide down herself) and tried to talk Jackson into going down the slide. Jax, however, looked upon this as an opportunity to talk the teenager into carrying him back down the steps.
No dice. This was apparently one no-nonsense teenager, and she was not about to give up her chance to slide to the bottom for one little 2 year old (squirmy, slobbery and possibly wet on the bottom half, too... can’t blame her for not wanting to get too close). She deftly flipped him to his belly and dropped him down the slide to Jackson’s shouts of protest... which morphed into shouts of “Do it again!” in the 2 seconds it took for him to get to the bottom.
Hmm. So THAT’s why the ride said 3 and up...

Taper time

We’re approaching the final 2 weeks before the marathon that I totally dread. It’s the taper. For those who don’t enjoy running, it may seem strange to be reluctant about giving up those 18, 19 and 20 mile runs, but as I stare into this abyss of 2 weeks of progressively less and less running I get a little panicky. It is somewhat about not getting to eat as much peanut butter (with powdered hot cocoa mix stirred in, yum), but also about the gaping hole in my day that used to be filled with activity. Fortunately, this gaping hole is placed at about 430 am, so I can sometimes sleep through it, but still.
I took Skoshi out for a trail run - 6 miles - a smidgen of what I was running. I took advantage of this opportunity to try out the new Trailguru (GPS mapping program) on my iPhone. Unfortunately, this only is able to track me when I carry it flat, in my palm, facing upwards. Oh well, it’s not like it’s a long run or anything, so I complied. I figured I only had to do this once, and then I could use the data to construct maps of my favorite trails on the mapmyrun program and then wouldn’t need to have my gps with me at all for future trail runs, since I could just click on whatever trail run I’d done from the stored maps. (yes, the taper madness has begun).
Anyway, I also took the opportunity of snapping a shot of my favorite place to run to. This is the end of Rocky Bayou, our house and the state park are to the left, the hilly part of town is to the right, and Skoshi is smack dab in the middle. It’s her favorite place, too.

Another one down

Riley’s 4th tooth has been getting wigglier and wigglier. I could have sworn she was going to loose it at school, but lo it was there when she got home. Of course, since Brian was sitting in the backyard, that tooth didn’t even make it into the house. (okay, okay, Brian is reading over my shoulder, so as he pointed out, technically the tooth did go into the house to get a tissue to sop up any ensuing blood, and then Brian pulled it)
And so now she’s got a gap the size of Alaska in her smile.
And her second sentence after the loss of this tooth was...
“You know, Mom, it’th thorta hard to talk.”
So, this tooth was lost on a Friday, the one day of the week that Brian and I are most exhausted. Also, I had a sorta early run in the morning...
Basically there were lots and lots of reasons... but the Tooth Fairy forgot.
I remembered about 5 miles into my run. I was running down John Sims Highway with Hilary, telling about Riley’s tooth, when suddenly (after some choice cuss words) I whipped my iphone out of my waterbelt and speed dialed Brian.... about 30 minutes too late.
So, we’ve come up with a couple of hypotheses for the Tooth Fairy’s lapse. Brian mentioned that since the tooth was wrapped in a tissue in the pocket of the tooth pillow and then placed under the pillow that Riley’s head was on, it’s conceivable that the Tooth Fairy did not actually forget, but just couldn’t find it (this was Brian’s explanation). I hypothesized that since I fell asleep with Riley while we were reading (half way through our first book and with the light still on, even), it’s possible that the Tooth Fairy really did stop by, but was perplexed by my own complete complement of teeth and flittered away.
Whatever reason, the Tooth Fairy was sure to remember the next night.

That Y Chromosome

I truly would like to believe that Brian and I have done our best to raise Jackson and Riley in a similar fashion. I’m not sure, then how to explain Jackson sometimes. In the picture above, I came across him playing with a T-Rex and a little yellow lizard. The lizard was shrieking in terror while T-rex was growling and saying “I’m gonna eat you.” Then he crammed the little lizard into the mouth of the T-Rex.
It’s not like I gave him these 2 toys, either. We were at a birthday party, and Jackson rooted among all the dolls and trucks to find the dinosaurs. And it’s not like he even has to find the scary toys. Last week he was eating Kashi wheat bites at breakfast, one in each hand. Each wheat bite was taking turns shrieking “No! No!” in Jackson’s high pitched pretend voice before it was devoured as Jackson laughed maniacally.
Someone please tell me this is normal.

Kindergarten Picasso

Friday, October 10, 2008

Riley’s got a great art teacher. Frankly, I was shocked (but thrilled) that an elementary school even had a dedicated art teacher. Fortunately her art class coincides perfectly with my Friday afternoon off from work, so I get to help out. It’s great because it gives me a greater understanding for Riley’s stories about her classmates, and I am endlessly impressed with her art teacher’s creativity in coming up with new art projects (Jackson Pollack’s “Action Painting” for second graders) and her sheer gutsiness in tackling messy projects (Jackson Pollack’s “Action Painting” for second graders).
At first I wasn’t sure how she was going to approach cubism for Riley’s kindergarten class, and then I was somewhat apprehensive when she mentioned they were going to be painting cubist shapes (rectangles, squares, triangles... and if you’re a 5 year old girl, pink hearts) on their faces. But sure enough, mirrors were distributed to each and every kindergartener along with a q-tip (they only got one) and a small dollop of paint (my job was distributing dollops, I kept a bottle of pink in one hand and then whatever other color was being requested in the other. Although I kept trying to put the pink bottle down, I no sooner did than it was requested by yet another kindergartener. One little girl requested no other color but pink, and spent the entire half hour painstaking covering every square inch of her face with pink hearts.).
I was quite pleasantly surprised with the industriousness of the kids. Each one applied themselves diligently into creating their own masterpiece. Riley even tried to copy her planned drawing (see above picture, her face plan is sitting in front of her).

The Camping Trip

Brian and I have been itching to take the kids camping again. The hot weather broke a couple of weeks ago, and so we finally jumped at the chance.

We started looking around at possible camp sites, and finally took the easy way out. We reserved a spot at the state park about 3 minutes from home. We figured that braving a night in a tent with Jackson was enough adventure, we didn't need to bookend it with lengthy car trips.

So, Saturday I got up at 6ish for a 630 run with Hilary, Misty and Sarah. Hilary was doing 20 miles, but the rest of us only had to do 12, so we started a little late to allow Hil to get a few miles done first so that she could have company in the middle. Good run.

Made it home at 820ish and after my requisite coffee and chocolate milk, headed with the family to "Dog Daze" - the annual dog festival in Fort Walton Beach. We were taking Skoshi with us, and meeting another family there (I'm a dog-pusher. The mom of the family wants a dog, dad is not entirely crazy about the idea... so I take every opportunity to expose them to adoptable rescue dogs and email pictures of potential candidates. I'm really bad, I know.) It was fun, the kids got tired out and I wound up having to drag Jackson away kicking and screaming (he was a little over tired, and liked the monkey bars).

After a much needed nap (for Jackson only, though. I needed one too, but had to pack up for the camping trip), we all headed down the street to our campsite. The place was packed, but our place was reasonably secluded, although with no water view. We set up the tent and unloaded the car. We were careful to tell the kids that they had to take their shoes off before going into the tent.

We went on a nature hike on some of the trails, and quickly settled into a walking pattern. Brian and Riley walk ahead, and I stay behind trying to shoo Jackson along. For some reason, he decided it was fun to kick whatever dirt/sand/rocks/leaves we were walking over, and listen to the sound it made. It made for very slow going - "step, swoosh.... step, swoosh..." He's also fascinated with squirrels, and must veer off to investigate any nearby sound in the event that it may actually be a "baby squirrel?" lurking nearby. Oh, and he's fascinated by rocks, leaves, acorns, bugs... anything he can pick up and stash in his pocket and then forget about until I hear it clanking around in the dryer 2 days later (and this annoying trait is one that they apparently won't grow out of, Riley did it the entire walk, too, but she is also compelled to soliloquize about the virtues and possible secret life of every rock/leaf/acorn she finds (she won't go near the bugs). Actually, now that I think about it, Brian STILL does this, only it's generally receipts, coins and flight-line earplugs that multiply in his pockets).

It was a nice walk. And I'm so glad Jackson is there to make sure I don't miss a single spider web or ant hill. Eventually I tried carrying him in order to speed things along, but he can only put up with my goal-directed pace for a couple of minutes before he must climb down to collect some compelling stick or climb a nearby tree stump. So, after an hour's walk on a 20 minute trail we made it back to the campsite. I set about constructing a campfire and Brian headed back to the house to let Skoshi out for a potty break (we decided that 2 kids was enough camping adventure for the night and scampering through other peoples campsites would definitely been on Skoshi's agenda) and collect one or two things we'd forgotten. Riley is nothing if not helpful, and so she set about collecting every single pine needle she could lay her hands on and carry them back by the handful to throw in the vicinity of the firepit. And Jackson, while not generally helpful, will copy whatever Riley says or does. So Riley would throw a handful of pineneedles and Jackson would throw a handful of dirt.

After the blaze was flickering along nicely and both children were admonished that fire was very hot and they would immediately be sent to time out if they got too close, I set about getting dinner ready (we were having corn on the cob and Tofurkey veggie brats (no snickering and gagging until you've tried them!). I had previously also admonished both children that they were to remove their shoes prior to going into the tent. Riley can be counted on to follow rules to the letter. Jackson.... not so much. So you can imagine my surprise when I looked over and he was actually taking off of his shoes prior to going into the tent. Unfortunately, he took of his shoes (and socks) by the fire, then walked gingerly over to the tent - on his heels. You could almost see the thoughts telegraphing across his face, "This is weird, and not so comfortable, but Mom said to take off my shoes..." He was a little perplexed when I shouted at him to wait, but went into the tent anyway, traipsing much debris as he could manage to stick to the bottom of his feet in with him. Well, I suppose I should at least be grateful that he actually listened to me and attempted to follow my directions. When I called him back out of the tent, he also complied. Walking all the way back across the campsite on his bare heels. It's hard not to laugh.

We then gathered around the campfire, and Jackson did what any other 21st century 2 year old would do... he sang Happy Birthday over and over again (off key). I suppose birthday candles are really the only time he ever sees fire, so it sort of makes sense. We then ate our dinner of veggie dogs and corn-on-the-cob (with butter - one of the things Brian had gone home to retrieve). Then came the kids favorite part of the entire trip - the smores. Riley is very careful when she roasts marshmallows, and is quite proud of the fact that she does not set her marshmallow on fire (like mom and dad did). Unfortunately, this means her marshmallow is often undercooked and doesn't squish well - but to each their own. Jackson doesn't care, he just eats/wears whatever condition of s'more he's given - and he's not allowed to roast his own marshmallow. I don't even want to think about the flaming mess of goo that would result. After traipsing to the bathroom for one more potty break, toothbrushing and face washing, we convinced the kids to climb into their sleeping bags. Riley was thrilled to comply, as she had received a princess sleeping bag for her birthday and was eager to try it out. Jackson, on the other hand, is absolutely allergic to any and all coverings while he sleeps. It's very strange. He will wake up crying because he's cold, but as soon as I put a blanket on him he shrieks "NO GIKI! NO GIKI!" (giki in Jacksonspeak means blanket) like he's been scalded. The state park is much louder than I thought it would be, and after telling stories and singing a song or two, it took a while for the kids to settle down. Brian eventually fell asleep, too, but I was still wide awake, listening to the cars going over the Rocky Bayou Bridge and the teenagers cussing as they wandered down the road by the campsite. Fortunately, I had my iPhone with me, and so I could check email and price running gear all in the middle of the woods!

After sleeping fitfully all night (Brian and I agreed - only kids can sleep on the ground and actually sleep), I got up at 6 for an easy 6 miles with Misty. It was a nice pace run - we managed about 8:04 for the duration. Afterwards, I gathered up my clothes and headed to the showers for a makeshift babywipe shower. I'd forgotten a towel and soap, so it was very make-shift... but babywipes work wonders. Once I made it back to the tent, everyone was up and dressed. We ate our breakfast of Kashi and yogurt (we're not such diehard campers that we can bring ourselves to make ANOTHER campfire in the morning. Although Jackson kept wandering back over to the firepit to shout "MORE HAPPY BIRTHDAY? MORE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU PLEASE?") We ventured to the playground (where we met another family that lives in Bluewater and goes camping at the state park on a regular basis... Apparently, 3 minutes from home is enough adventure for their preschoolers, too. It was fun, but who knows when we'll get to do it again - we're booked until mid-December!

I'm playing stay-at-home mom for the next 48 hours.  This was much easier when the rigor of  a public school schedule was not involved.  This morning, Brian took Jackson to preschool and just left for his Air Force Reserves from there.  I had Riley for the next 45 minutes before we had to walk to school, so we finished getting ready, looked for a family for her dollhouse on the internet, played on the piano, played in the dollhouse, and then I realized suddenly we were running a tad late.  Not very late, but just maybe a couple of minutes.  I tossed Riley's lunchbox and folder in her backpack and drug her out the door to make it to school before the bell rang.  We went out the back door, and I left Skoshi inside, because she has issues with separation anxiety, and often when I leave her at home, I look back to see her forlornly leaping vertically to catch a glimpse of us over the top of the fence.  So, it was out the back door, out the gate and off to school at a trot.  We had just made it to the crosswalk when I heard an ominous "JINGLE-POUNCE--JINGLE,JINGLE-POUNCE" and turned to find Skoshi bounding behind us with tongue and ears flapping in the air and that "I'M FREE! I'M FREE!" glint in her eyes.  I'm sure you can appreciate that the added chaos of a frantically bouncing dog zipping into and out of traffic is not appreciated by anyone in the last few minutes of drop-off time... least of all by the mom in a t-shirt, shorts and wet hair that is zipping after the dog.  At this point, Skoshi was still on the home side of the street, and bounding towards her favorite trail run, which is just a half-block from the school.  I had convinced Riley that she could cross the street with the cross guard and walk down the sidewalk to school by herself - although I was quite conflicted about this.  I had my suspicions that Riley might take a more leisurely pace than was warranted, and could quite conceivably not even make it past the butterfly garden and its enticing bridge if there were enough butterflies about.  And since our house has already received one morning phone call from the principal when Riley was found wandering the halls (lost and crying, first week of school), I was loathe to have our family appear to be recidivist.
Skoshi must have read my mind.  She turned around, sprinted past me, and followed Riley onto the elementary school campus.
This was definitely against the rules.
Skoski sprinted past Riley and into the carpool drop-off area.  I was running to catch her when I looked back to find Riley stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, laughing and saying "OH NO!"  So, I jogged back to push her along, and even suggest that she may want to RUN to the front door.  (the sidewalk outside of the school was taking on that deserted one-minute-'til-the-bell look).  I gave her a helpful "Go thataway" shove, and turned away at a sprint to try and catch Skoshi, who fortunately had stopped for the moment.  Unfortunately, this was to take a poo break in the grassy patch that is in the middle of the car-pool drop-off loop.
Great.
Hoping that her lapse of appropriate-place-to-poo decorum would be enough to distract her, I put forth as much of a burst of speed as I could muster (Oh, did I mention that I had already run 10 miles this morning?  Not quickly, but with the last 3 miles at a sub-8-minute pace).  True to form, Skoski waited until I was within inches of grabbing her collar to dash away and zip under the carpool drop-off awning.  The teacher that was manning the drop-off area did make a valiant effort to grab her, but this only forced Skoshi to alter course... through the nearby open door, and into the school.
Thankfully, there was a teacher at her classroom door, and at first Skoski turned right around and headed back towards me.
But then, she thought better of it, and took the only other available route, into the 5th grade classroom across the hall.  Some children were milling about and some were in their seats, but all were trying to catch and pet this adorable, furry, and oh-sooo-novel and exciting (and illegal) visitor to their classroom.  All the while, the teacher was shooting at me those stern and disapproving looks that they must teach them in school, and yelling for the class to calm down so I could retrieve the errant dog.  And boy, is that teacher-disapproval look effective, I kept thinking to myself "This is sooo against the rules... and neither one of us has a visitor pass... will this go in my permanent record?"
I did finally manage to catch Skoshi's collar, and pull her out of the school, while the teacher above glowered at me with "Who brings a dog onto the school campus" looks (It's possible I was projecting my own emotions at that point).
The car-drop-off managing teacher at least had a sense of humor about it, and pointed out that the dog should have started in kindergarten instead of skipping straight to the 5th grade, and another teacher also made light-hearted comments about it.  However, the teacher whose classroom had just been invaded was clearly NOT amused.
So, I drug Skoshi home, and then jogged back with a clean-up bag for the school lawn.  I'm not quite sure how she managed to get out of the house and out of the backyard, but I have clearly underestimated her!
It's times like these that I'm hopeful that I don't look like the doctor who has a clinic down the street...

So, now I'll never calm down enough to get a nap before Riley's lunch time!  And that nap was the only way I convinced myself to drag my feet out of bed, into my running shoes and onto the pavement at 4:45 this morning.  But I've already promised Riley I would meet her for lunch, and now I must make the added effort of dressing, putting up my hair and making myself look presentable in hopes that I will in to way resemble the woman that was chasing a dog through the school that morning.

As you can tell from her post-jaunt photo, Skoshi is not remorseful in the least.

I opened my email this evening to find the below:

Dear Ann K. Gwinnup,
This is to notify you that your entry into the 113th Boston Marathon on Monday, April 20, 2009 has been accepted, provided that the information you submitted is accurate.

Yay! Now I’ve only 2 more marathons before Boston!
My next one is in 3 weeks. My last 20 miler was yesterday. Hence I’ve now entered that frightening time known as “the taper.” This is when I gradually run fewer and fewer miles so that I can rest up for race day.
A side benefit is that I go a bit nuts and drive the family crazy. For example...
I was trying to decide what socks to wear for the marathon (I long ago picked out my top and skirt), and was worrying that my chosen pair has 127 miles on them, when I’d really like to have them closer to 100 (preferably under, though). Maybe I should buy a new pair... but then it’s only 27 extra miles, and if I bought a new pair now I couldn’t do a long run in them, since my max run will be 12 miles next weekend....
And then there’s my pace tattoo (it’s a temporary tattoo that goes on your forearm with anticipated time at each mile marker so that you can track where you are with respect to your goal pace). The fact that they even exist is pretty type A. But still, I picked up two of them at my last marathon - and then used the 3:45 for that race. This leaves me only the 3:40. Hopefully I’ll find another at the expo... otherwise I might have to run 3:40.
And lastly in my taper musings, Brooks (running gear company) is offering a “VIP” portapotty for any runner wearing Brooks Marine Corps marathon gear (or Brooks shoes, but I run in Mizunos, and have for my last 6 pairs of running shoes. I fear change). So, now I have to decide if I think the lines will be so long pre-race that it’s worth shelling out 20 bucks for a pair of socks (that I won’t get to run in before the race - aack!) so that I can gain entry to the hallowed portapotty. (It will have actual running water and soap - but more importantly, it will hopefully have no line). But then I hear that the “Charity Village” for the runners running for a charity may have it’s own bank of portapotties. I could email the Team Fisher House coordinator to confirm, but somehow I don’t think normal people worry about portapotty lines 3 weeks ahead of time...
And this is just the beginning of taper madness. Those of you that really don’t want to know how nuts I really am may want to avert your eyes for the next 3 weeks!

Catching the Moon

Sunday was a 20 mile run. Addy came over at 6 to babysit, and I met up with Misty and Hilary. Surprise, surprise, it was miserably hot and humid again. We stopped to refill on water at about mile 5 while we were running through the state park. We had contemplated running the hills first, and then heading to the state park, but unfortunately if you wait to run the state park after 8am, you have to check in with the park ranger. This wastes a good 5 minutes, and means you actually have to stop and converse. Therefore, we put the hills off to later in the run, and ran the park first (it’s a nice park -right on the bayou with 3 bathrooms and 2 water sources). After that it was off to Edgewater and Ruckel. After about mile 12, I had to give up on Hilary’s brutal pace (Misty’d thrown in the towel a couple of miles back). I was quite literally dripping with sweat and out of water. As I ran past the state park again, I contemplated stopping by to ask the ranger for water, but I’ve had a recent run-in with the ranger there (another reason to run the park before 8), and was reluctant to ask any favors. By mile 16 I was desperate, and so hopped a fence at some condos to find a water fountain. I wrung my skirt out and struggled on - but it was painful. I managed the last 2 miles by walk-running.
Very humbling, hot and humid.
By the time I made it home I was exhausted. Once we got home, Addy’s mom came and picked her up, and I completely collapsed. I chugged a quart of chocolate milk, a powerade and then popped Strawberry Shortcake into the dvd player and crashed on the couch for a nap. Some friends had mentioned heading to the beach that afternoon, but I just couldn’t manage to do the whole “load the car, sunscreen the kids, drive to the beach, carry kids/umbrellas/cooler/towel/chairs/toys to the beach, build sandcasltles/chase Jackson, carry everything back to the car, hose off the kids (to screams of protestation), drive back home, transfer sleeping children to their beds knowing I was also transferring a pound of sand with them, unload car, have children wake up... etc
So, I managed to convince BOTH kids to take a nap with me for 2 hours (wow - the ultimate feat!).
By evening I was feeling a little guilty for doing so much nothing all day that I chased both kids outside and plopped myself on the driveway in a lawn chair with a glass of wine. We had just walked/scootered/biked to get mail, and Riley impressed me by taking the key, obtaining the mail, and then balancing the stack of letters on the foot board of her scooter and bring it back to me - all while I was trying to convince Jax to go THAT WAY on his bike. Once in the drive way, I had Skoshi on a leash and both kids drawing with sidewalk chalk. Jackson has become fascinated with the moon. Whenever we’re outside in the evening he has to locate it and then scream as loud as he can “Moon! Mommy, Moon!” and he doesn’t give up until everyone has acknowledged and looked at the moon. (This is somewhat startling to neighbors as they walk by for a 2 year old to run up to them, screaming “MOON! MOON!”) Once everyone in the area has acknowledged the moon, then he starts over with the first person again . This particular evening, he had decided
“MOMMY, MY MOON”
“Your moon, Jackson?”
“YEAH, MY MOON”
“How about Riley, is it Riley’s moon, too?”
“NO, MY MOON”
Jax then found the reflector-on-a-stick that is his favorite outside toy and started waving it over his head”
“Whatcha doin Jackson?”
“MY MOON, MOMMY. CATCH IT?”
“You can’t catch it, Jackson, it’s too high.”
“TOO HIGH? BRING IT DOWN, MOMMY, DOWN!”
“I can’t, it’s too high”
“TOO HIGH? MOMMY’S CAR, CATCH IT?’
“No, Jackson, it’s too high for my car, too.”
“OH, MOON TOO HIGH...... ROCKETSHIP, MOMMY?”
And then he and Riley proceeded to gather a big cardboard box from he house and decorate it as their rocketship. It was very cute.

Hunting Lizards

We went over to a neighbor’s house to play yesterday evening. This family has 3 children, and was watching another 3 for the afternoon. A little girl from across the street had come over to play, and then Ry and Jx made for a total of 9... and Ry was the oldest. All of the children were either riding about on toy motorized motorcycles (except for Ry and Jx, who generally find them terrifying) or hunting geckos. Ry was very upset that everyone had a gecko but her, and enlisted my support in trying to capture one. This house had vinyl siding around the sides and the back, which is apparently like a condo if you’re a gecko. Watch carefully for a couple of minutes and you can see any number of geckos peaking out from underneath. Then you have to pounce, and hope to knock the targeted gecko out from under the siding before he ducks back in. Then a chaotic chase ensues with children (and me) scampering about after the gecko until someone catches it. Once caught, they must be held tightly about the ribs upside down. Something about this position puts them into a trance-like state, and makes them slower. (although they’re still pretty fast, and able to survive remarkably long jumps/tosses onto the ground). The first one was pretty tiny, and Ry was mostly afraid to hold it for fear of squishing it, unlike the neighbor boy, who has mastered riding a bicycle, swinging from a tree and running about with a gecko in one hand. So, after our final attempt to induce a trance and then pass the gecko off to Ry (the gecko sought out greener pastures) I went off in search of a bigger gecko, at Ry’s request.
Success! I found a doozie of a gecko. Unfortunately, the neighbor boy happened to point out to Ry that the big ones bite, so she’d better be careful. Well, that did it. Ry was envious of all the other children and their geckos, but drew the line at biting lizards. Hence I was left holding the gecko.
Jx, however, was simply entranced with the big gecko. I would only let him touch it with one finger, thinking that he could gently stroke the gecko’s back. Unfortunately, gentle does not exist in Jx’s realm. Instead of gently stroking, he mostly just not-so-gently poked the gecko in the eye. Eventually, the gecko got fed up with this scenario and bit the finger that was poking him.
This surprised Jx not a little and he shrieked.
Apparently, it surprised me, too, because I tossed the gecko into the garage. And then, feeling bad about infesting the neighbor’s garage with biting reptiles, I fished him back out from under the lawn mower. Jx had moved on, so I placed the gecko in the bug box with all the other inmates (fortunately, the neighbors run a catch and release program, so the internment was short).
On a much less interesting note, this weekend’s runs have been far better. It’s amazing the difference about 20 degrees makes. Not that anyone else is interested, but I’m trying to keep track of my splits, so here they are:
Saturday
1 8:19 
2 8:22 
3 8:35 - not sure what happened here.
4 8:13 
5 8:14 
6 8:10 
7 8:14 
8 8:08 
9 8:08  
10 8:13 
10  1:22:38  8:16

Sunday
1 9:31 - break to tie shoe
2 8:39
3 8:34
4 8:35
5 8:28
6 8:46 - state park water break
7 8:22
8 8:32
9 8:11 - John Simms Bridge
10 8:20 - start of Edgewater hills
11 8:31
12 9:31 - potty break 
13 8:22
14 8:26 - Ruckel
15 8:39 - Ruckel
16 8:22
17 8:23
18 8:00
19 8:17
20 8:20
0.36  8:23 pace
2:53:47   20.36  8:32

Saturday Walks

Brian was flying though hurricane Ike this weekend, so I was left to my own devices with the kids. Usually I at least make some effort to get them to the beach or the pool, but this was a long-run weekend. I ran 10 miles on Saturday with Misty, and it was very very humid. Miserably so. When I got home, Riley and Jackson reminded me that I had promised a trip to the coffee shop. So, Riley donned her running skirt, and both got on their helmets and we walked/ scootered/ biked to the shop. They have a pretty good breakfast, and Riley was happily munching on grapes, licking the remnants of whipping cream from her cup and placidly coloring “Hello Kitty” while Jackson yelled “5 4 3 2 1 BLASTOFF” and ran back and forth along the width of the store with his hands above his head like he was on a roller coaster. I my post-run mellowness, I managed to overlook this breach of decorum and just let him be. Later I met Hil and her kids for a walk on the trails. Aidan and Riley ran ahead with Skosh, while Anna and Jackson lagged behind to play in the dirt and converse on the merits of collecting sticks. We eventually made it down to the water and hung around long enough to throw a few sticks and rocks in, then headed back. Unfortunately, Anna is fond of neither walking nor piggyback rides, and only wanted to be carried on Hilary’s side. This tends to make for a long walk, so Anna did spend a bit of time crying in the dirt. Jackson, on the other hand, mostly likes to admire nature on a macroscopic level, so there’s lots of prodding to keep him moving. Otherwise he would spend all afternoon with a stick in one patch of dirt.

Sunset Cruise

This morning I got up at 5 so I could leave the house at 5:30 and run with Hilary and Misty. 19 miles - and I even managed to run 15.5 of them with Hilary. After that I had to bail on her and slow down. Even so, I wound up running 19 miles in 2:44. I finally got home and was lounging sweatily on the floor with my post-run chocolate milk when Brian reminded me that Riley had a birthday party to go to, and I needed to talk to Christy about carpooling and wrap the gift and get Riley dressed before leaving for the party in 30 minutes.
It was a Fairy Tea Party, which is apparently quite popular among 5 year olds these days. Riley’s birthday is coming up, and for those that aren’t aware, this year she is going to have a “flower, fairy, mermaid, princess, sparkle tea party.” She came up with the theme herself, and I’m glad the date has finally approached close enough that I could order invitations, thus halting the addition of new adjectives to the party’s title.
A few weeks ago, Riley asked to have a pinata at her party. “Sure,” I agreed. That’s a pretty simple party game to arrange.
But with me, it seems, nothing is simple.
I have this pet peeve about store-bought pinatas. They’re actually just cardboard, and it usually takes a grown-up with a knife (or at least a really big bat) to finally slice and pummel the candy out of it. So this year I had resolved to make it myself. Perfect! A great rainy day activity, and this time of year in Florida, there’s generally no shortage of rainy days (courtesy of whatever hurricane is in the gulf). Riley and even Jackson could help - I’d get them their own balloons and let them slop newspaper and paper mache to their hearts content. I had even made a special trip to the store to buy balloons and organic rice flour (I read somewhere on the internet that this was better than wheat for holding together pinatas - which actually originated in China, not Mexico). I happened to mention to the floral arranging lady that I wanted one single balloon for a pinata - which treated me to a lecture on how I should make one out of cardboard with ribbons to pull on and release the candy, since the striking of a pinata with a big stick can be so dangerous. Ah, thanks for the advice, but STOP MESSING WITH MY MENTAL PICTURES!
I don’t know about anyone else, but in my mental pictures I get while anticipating a project, it’s all bucolic and serene, with messy hands. Period. I tend to forget that the mess usually doesn’t stop with the hands, and hence I have paper mache everywhere. It’s all over the Florida room floor, all over the windows, all over the door knobs, tracked along to the bathroom where it again covers the floor as well as the sink and the water faucet. It’s it Riley’s hair, it’s in the dogs hair, and we might as well just stick some tissue paper on Jackson’s head and call him DONE. Oh, and Riley’s friend Kate was playing over at hour house that afternoon. In my mind, I thought “Her mom will be so impressed with my creativity at amusing the girls on a rainy day.” but instead I suspect her thoughts were more like “Gee, thanks for the generous coating of glop on my 5 year old.” I had covered the girls with art-t-shirts, but about mid-glopage I looked over at Kate and noticed she had goo on her pretty play purse and on her tiara and jeweled high heels. I suppose I should have done a better job at pre-project policing. I just get so antsy to GET STARTED that I sometimes skip over all those little details.
I wound up so flustered by the sheer magnitude of this undertaking, that I forgot about the pinata (maybe blocked out is a better phrase) for the next 2 days, and did not get the next 2 critical coats of paper mache on the pinata before the balloon imploded (and in case you’re wondering, rice flour is generally too grainy for pinatas, and not nearly gluey enough). So, one side of the pinata was completely caved in, but I was determined to salvage it. This time I decided to use the more traditional wheat based flour for the glue. Unfortunately, there is no white flour in this house, but only stone-ground, organic whole wheat (I know, those of you that think I’ve gone way off the deep end with the organics and the vegetarian stuff for the past 15 years or so are snickering quietly at this point). No problem, I figured, I’d just add some extra gluten to it (organic, of course). It generally worked okay, and I patched up one side of the pinata and placed it aside to dry.
So, on this particular day in question, I had to patch up the other, more extensively damaged side. But this time I would bypass the mess issue, and Riley and I set up outside. All was going well, and I’d patched the large rift in the pinata’s eastern hemisphere and was preparing to hang the pinata to dry.
And surprisingly, the paintbrush that I’d wedged inside and clipped to the coat hanger to try and hang from the ceiling of the Florida room failed miserably, sending the still-soggy pinata pummeling first onto the art table and then rolling off to plop on the floor.
Needless to say, this was not a graceful fall, and didn’t do much for the structural integrity of the pinata. (insert deep sigh and a couple of internalized cuss words here.) Not to be put off, I found another balloon, blew it up inside the pinata’s carcass as structural support, (all the while, Brian is cautiously suggesting I COULD just BUY a pinata) and slopped another layer of organic paper mache on the entire thing and gingerly propped it up on the patio table to dry.
I only had an hour or so to get all this done - my pinata salvage time was squashed between the Birthday party (which happened to be 30 minutes away from from our house and near a Target. And since I’ve this addiction to wandering the aisles of Target, I couldn’t NOT go...) and the “sunset cruise” Brian had planned for us with some friends. We had initially planned on it being a kidless double date, but all our baby sitting prospects had plans for the long weekend, so it wound up being a family outing. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and we headed to a local waterfront restaurant with a pier to park the boat.
Nice dinner, Riley ate her meal and half of mine, while Jackson ate only the hush puppies with butter and proceeded to run laps around the table singing “Ring-around-the-rosy”. So I took him outside to intermittently play “car” with the boat steering wheel and then hurtle towards the edge of the dock shrieking “PISH! PISH!” I am never quite sure if he will actually stop before he gets to the edge or simply careen over the edge to see the fish up close, so I do a fair amount of dashing about, too (and after a long run in the morning, I’m not so quick). Fortunately, the rest of our party finished up and joined us before the water became too enticing, and we headed back to the boat for sunset.
Riley does great on a boat, and she was sitting placidly up front with Brian. Jackson on the other hand likes to try and either 1) crawl over the edge 2)complain about my holding onto his lifejacket so he doesn’t crawl over the edge or 3) try and drink my beer. So, I’m usually a bit pre-occupied. Still, the sunset was beautiful and lots of pictures were taken.
Then I turned away from the sunset to head to the back of the boat and saw this big, black , ominous sky to the east. Not really wanting to alarm anyone, I whipped out my iphone and checked the weather radar. Sure enough, a bright red front was looming.
We decided it might be time to head to shore, and speed back as fast as we could. The waves were getting really choppy, and lots of spray was coming over the sides of the boat to drench us. Riley was bouncing along in Brian’s lap with a somewhat worried look on her face. Nicole was wrapped in a towel in her mom’s lap whimpering “I don’t like getting wet!”
And Jackson was giggling, shouting “More!More!” and “Do it again!”
We made it back to the car about 3 minutes before the deluge and no one was really the worse for wear.
But as we were pulling back into our driveway, Brian said,
“Too bad about your pinata.”
And for a couple of seconds, I thought “That’s weird, I thought my patch job was pretty good, and why is he mentioning it at this odd time.” Then I remembered...
...it was still sitting on the back porch... in the rain.

Walking home from school

Monday, August 18, 2008

I raced home from work to walk with Brian and Jackson and pick up Riley from her first day of school. For the first week, they hold all the kindergarteners in the cafeteria for their parents to come and find them, then we walked her to our planned meeting spot so she could learn where it is.
She was very excited.
I tried to get some idea of how her day went, so I asked what her favorite part of the day was.
“Um, I don’t remember”
It was pretty much the same answer to my questions of “did you make any new friends” and I got no more information for a while, since Brian granted her permission to play at a friend’s house (without consulting me!), and so I couldn’t really grill her about her day until she got home before dinner. I soon figured out that the questions must be as specific as possible.
“What did you do in circle time?”
“Well, we didn’t sit in a circle. It was more like a rectangle”
So after a few more questions, I found out that her teacher read a book about a dog named Spot who went to school, she couldn’t get her drink bottle open, so she raised her hand like she was told but no one came to help (she polished off the lemonade on the walk home), she went to PE and they walked outside and talked about the rules. That’s about all I could glean from her. Hopefully more news will follow!

First day of school

Monday, August 18, 2008

Now this was traumatic - well, at least it was for me.
We had Riley’s Kindergarten orientation last week, and all walked over to the school to meet her teacher and drop off school supplies. After a “scavenger hunt” with Riley in her classroom, the kids wend on a tour of the school and the parents stayed back to go over rules and get the supplies situated. All the crayons (3 boxes) and markers (one box) and glue (2 bottles and 4 sticks) had to be sorted (and all the blue-violets, and yellow-oranges and orange-yellows and indigoes removed) and placed into Riley’s cubby and various bins around the classroom. This whole activity was remarkably stressfull - and not only for me, many of the other parents were dealing with similar stress of trying to get the correct forms filled our, checks made out, scissors labeled and then all the unwanted and confusing colors packaged back up to be taken home. (Although I distinctly remember being able to understand the logic of orange-yellow, yellow-orange and red-orange when I was her age)
Having survived that, we ventured home. This weekend was a flurry of getting her backpack organized, lunches planned (there are apparently random hamburger days at school regardless of what the school lunch menu proposes, hence, Riley will be bringing her lunch daily), and outfits for the week laid out. After the first day of school, Kindergarteners all dress in the same color for the next week. And although I was initially dismayed to see all these colors of clothing that Riley owns NONE of (Yellow? Blue? Green? And not a one of these color days was PINK! That all she owns!), I the saw it as a much needed impetus to get Riley to wear other colors.
So this morning, Brian took Jackson to school, and I got Riley all combed and washed and fed for her big first day. She did very well, although I got lost finding her classroom. (Those Kindergarten parents - you can spot them a mile away!). I even managed to leave the classroom without completely breaking down in sobs. And Brian and I were only reprimanded once for exciting the school in an erroneous pattern.... this will be quite a learning experience for ALL of us!

Jupiterian aggression

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Since my 17 miler was cut short by the monsoon yesterday morning, I had to go this morning. Hil brought her kids over at 7:30, and we set off. It was HOT, and very humid. Almost made me miss the lightening from yesterday. After bailing on Hil after 12 miles (she’s just too darn fast), I settled into a slower pace for the last 5 miles and made it home in just under 2 hours and 30 minutes. It was so hot that I stopped to refill my camelback in the state park, and then after I’d drained it again I headed into a convenience store for a big powerade (32 ounces) which I downed before my last 2 miles.
After making it home, stretching, showering and consuming the requisite chocolate milk (it’s a recovery drink - really. Has the perfect ratio of carbs and protein), I tried to rest a bit, but Brian reminded me that I still had to proofread his essay for the week... for his masters class in Joint Planning. Yes, it is as sleep inducing as it sounds. For example, here’s an excerpt...
When directed, USPEGASASCOM will conduct joint operations to uphold the U.N. mandated border of York and deter Jupiterian and Saturnian aggression. If deterrence fails, defend Mercury and allies, destroy possible WMD, protect U.S. personnel and interests, and destroy Jupiter’s and Saturn’s ability to attack, thereby creating a better state of peace.

After I actually think it’s impressive that I stayed awake as long as I did.

Sunday

Sometimes I think Brian was a cruise director in a former life. We spend surprisingly little down time just lounging around the house. For example:
Sunday morning I got up at 5:30 so I could be out the door at 6AM. I had planned to meet up with Hilary and Kristen for a long run. It was HOT, and even at that early hour, I was DRENCHED by the time I got home (albeit, 14 miles and 2 hours later).
So, I got home at 8, and then went running with Riley. Actually, I went “running” with Riley. Mostly, we walk with Skoshi to the coffee shop. Once there we split a cinnamon roll and each got a beverage (no coffee yet for Riley, although Jackson has become insistent that he get coffee when I have some. So, I’ve relented. I make a cup of hot water and add a copious amount of milk. This seems to make him happy.)
Anyway, our breakfast was cut short by a call from Brian reminding us we were on a schedule. So, we trotted back home and then frantically donned swimsuits and sunscreen and hopped into the car to make it down to Big Kahuna’s water park by the time it opened at 10am.
Riley loves Big Kahuna’s, and Brian and I take turns with her on the various water slides. Jackson is not thrilled with the water slides, but loves the big rocketship (big shock) in the front, so it’s a win-win situation. We have season passes and so don’t feel bad about leaving after an hour or two, before the big crowds have woken up and decided to stand in line for the water slide.
At noon, we were all sufficiently hungry that we had to leave. Like many theme parks, there’s no outside food allowed. Unlike many theme parks there is ZERO in the way of healthy food (french fries, pizza and burgers). Hence we leave. There’s a relatively healthy (ish) southwestern grill down the road, so we went there.
Generally when eating out, we only order 3 meals, since Jackson doesn’t eat much. So, Riley and Brian got quesadillas, and I got a burrito. We figured Jax could share with Riley.
Wrong.
Riley set up a retaining wall around her lunch and shot warning glances at me and Brian as we peered over to try and fish out a triangle of quesadilla for Jackson. Clearly, she’s a growing girl (very close to 4 feet tall at last check), and would no longer stand for us giving away her lunch. Brian managed to bargain with her and trade one of his quesadilla triangles for one of hers, but apparently Jackson has also decided to eat. So, after polishing off his allotted part of Riley’s lunch, he ate one of Brian’s other quesadilla triangles, then came and sat in my lap for more. He was a little put off by the hot sauce I’d liberally sprinkled over my entire meal, but not entirely.
After everyone was fed, we ran to Target. We had a birthday party later, and needed a present. And honestly, I was looking forward to checking out their jog bra and running skirt collection, but was planning to do this while enroute to the toy aisle. Brian was going to stay in the car with Jackson, so no one would be the wiser (except Riley... who is quickly catching on to my tactics. After about 30 seconds of me rifling through the athletic wear, she was complaining about being cold and burrowing into the racks of clothing in an attempt to stay warm). I was midway through the shelves of bras (they’re very soft and quite cheap) when I heard a familiar shrieking coming from the front of the store. Sure enough, sprinting down the main aisle was Jackson with Brian close behind. Jackson was wet and required a trip to the potty.
I tried to look innocent and explain “oh, ah, we were JUST on our way to the toy aisle...”
Then reluctantly, with the rest of the family, I trudged along to buy what we actually came there for.
About 15 minutes and 2 or 3 time outs (for Jackson) later, we were making our way to the checkout, when I realized Jackson had pooped.
Great.
Brian finished up the checking out with Riley while I headed out to the car with Jax.
I couldn’t help but wonder what I would do with the poo that is usually rolling freely around in his underwear, so I veered into the restroom, thinking I could just dump the contents and then head to the car for the cleanup.
Yeah. Uh, no.
This turned into a very loud and very messy bathroom trip. At one point I had just stripped Jackson down naked (poo was on the shorts, too, and I was trying to spare the shirt... I couldn’t help but wonder if I could just safety pin it together between his legs and pretend it was a onesie... but soon realized I had no safety pins.) and was trying to dunk the crotch of his underwear in the toilet to get the adherent poo to release (rinsing them in the sink just seemed somehow unethical), while Jackson bounced off the walls of the stall like a pinball and shrieked as shrilly and loudly as possible. We had used all the paper towels, and so I was left with only toilet paper to wrap the now soggy underwear in so that I could transport it to the car. People kept coming into the bathroom and either turning right around and exiting immediately or lurking outside the handicap stall we had taken up residence in to try and figure out what sort of child abuse was taking place to result in THAT NOISE being emmitted by a sweet curly haired angelic cherub... while I threat-whispered “Jackson, stop that right now, I mean it, no sir, get back here”
Somehow I got him reasonably clean (ish) and we reconveened to the car, where I spread a towel out on the front seat and stripped him naked again, wiped every surface of his body down with an abundance of baby wipes, pulled on a fresh pair of underwear (when you’re 2, that’s the only piece of clothing that’s truly mandatory) and buckled him back into his car seat. Just in time for Riley and Brian to wander up and Riley to exclaim “Mommy, what happened?”
We all piled back into the cars (oh, we were in 2 cars because we were dropping the Jeep off at the shop), and the kids promptly fell asleep and slept all the way home. We even managed to transfer them both to their beds without successfully waking them up.....
.... and allowed them a short nap before waking Riley up for a neighbor’s birthday party. She groggily stumbled out the door with Brian and the hastily wrapped present, while I waited for Jackson to wake up.
I gave him 45 minutes more, and then drug him out of bed with promises of cake and we trekked down the street to the birthday party. (all the while, and for the next hour or so, Jackson kept screaming “CAKE? CAKE?” Note to self... careful what you use as a lure...)
So, after consuming capri suns (although Jackson did his best to talk me out of my Appletini, but I held fast on that one), birthday cake, pinata candy, and ice pops (they consumed a month’s worth of high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavor in about 2 hours) we staggered home for baths and bed.
Oh, and those of you (Jenny and Judy) who are reading this, and thinking to yourself “Oh my, I agreed to help with THAT? I wonder if it’s too late to come up with a plausible medical emergency/fear of flying?” YES! IT’S TOO LATE! But welcome! You get numb to the chaos after a while.

The Rocketship

Jackson loves this rocket ship. He’s very clear about it being a rocket SHIP, different from just the plain rockets. And, by the way, just about anything can be a rocket, from a fork at a restaurant to the squishy fish in the bathtub to a pool torpedo. He’ll grab it, plunk it down on any available surface (Riley is particularly distressed when this happens to be her head) and shout “TWI, TOO, PAN... BLASTOFF!”
He does spend a good part of the day on the rocketship, and is remarkably fast on it. the front wheels don’t turn, but he’s got the skid-turn perfected. And as seen above, he also loves to ride it naked. After going potty, he bolts for the rocketship and shoots away, giggling manaically.
He also loves to ram into things with the nose of it - the wall, the door, the kitchen cabinets, Riley, Skoshi. It’s actually one of his most frequent infractions these days. Usually it lands the rocketship in time out. Never fails, I come home from work greeted by the standard “MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!..... ROCKETSHIP MIMEOUT!” accompanied by a pouty and downcast look as he gestures to the kitchen table, upon which the rocketship has been confined.