Not the tradition I meant to start

Last week, on the Fourth of July, we drove past the local car wash. Out in front was an ambulance, a firetruck and a crowd. I couldn't help but think "I'm SO glad it's not me this year!" Famous last words.

Brian's working again this weekend, and since I've had a crazy last week, I was looking forward to some down time. I had a babysitter coming at 5:30 this morning so I could get a couple hours running in, but after that we really had no plans. Unfortunately, a day without a schedule is completely against my nature. I'd not been home from my run more than an hour when Riley wandered into the living room (having just gotten up at 9AM! She gets that from Brian) and asked if we could do a project. SURE! She's spent the last week at an art day camp, and so wanted to do a REALLY BIG painting. Fortunately, I had a roll of canvas in the garage, which had just enough on it to do a 4 foot x 4 foot painting. We rolled out the canvas onto the drop-cloth in the Florida room, and began to plan for our painting. I quickly realized that I had no gesso to prep the canvas, and so gathered the kids into the car and headed down to Destin. This time of year, you've got to go EARLY or you wind up in bumper to bumper traffic on the Mid-Bay Bridge. I figured that since we were down there, we might as well swing by the Barnes&Noble / Starbucks. We'd just found everything we "needed" at the bookstore (each child was allowed one book - and of course, both had gone straight for the cheesiest, most commercialized offerings in the bargain books section - where all the books come with plastic toys attached. I was just trying at least talk Jackson down from the Spiderman puzzle book and get Riley to relinquish her "Disney Princess Stage" selection and were heading for the check-out when a very nice lady swooped into the children's area and announce that it was STORYTIME! Great. There is no way to get a kid to just walk away from that without causing the sort of scene that I usually try to avoid. Oh, well. We had no schedule, right? I let my monkeys plop down on the front bench while I continued to peruse the "beginning readers" aisle and the "American Girl" section. Mostly, I really wanted to dash over to the Starbucks for my current fav drink - a "RedEye" (cup of drip coffee with a shot of expresso). However, all the other moms were staying nearby (actually, they were even paying attention to the story and beaming appreciatively at the reader and their children - I was lurking two shelves over, listening to Jackson interject random comments from his own book and Riley interrupt with her own commentary about the books. I kept thinking that maybe I should intervene and put a halt to all my offsprings' excess prattle... but then zipped off to place my order at Starbucks instead. I came back with coffee in hand, to claim my urchins before the storylady could launch into another book. Of course, Jackson saw my hot beverage and immediately asked

"MOMMY, WHATS THAT?"3QA

"It's coffee, Jackson"

"I HAVE SOME MOMMY? PWEEZE? I HAVE SOME COFFEE MOMMY?"

All the beaming moms instantly freeze and shoot snooty looks our way.

"No, Jackson, lets go get some ah... nice herb tea instead..." And I quickly scooped them up and herded them towards the Cafe. (Where I did get him herb tea... I don't usually let him have coffee... but it doesn't stop him from asking.

After the bookstore we headed down the road to Michaels. All I needed was the gesso and some more acrylic paint for our project, I had a scone in the car for the kids to split, so I figured with that sort of bribe they were sure to be cooperative. We were zipping through the store quite nicely, too - when something brought us to a screaching halt. The kids craft table. Michaels offers kids crafts on Saturdays. Riley was drawn to the table like a bug to that zapping purple light. With a sigh, I signed the parental consent form ("your child may, and very likely will, get messy. You are required to supervise at all times. Any paint your child wears or ingests is entirely the fault of the parent"). Riley picked out the blue bag to paint (neither pink nor purple were available), and then began to study the available stencils. She chose the puppy stencil and the pawprints stencil and arranged the three on her bag (no shock there, Riley has been in a serious puppy phase since we started all this fostering for the Golden Retriever Rescue), and set about painting a yellow dog. Unfortunately, on the blue background, this wound up being a lime-green dog, so she wisely chose to brindle the coat with orange. Meanwhile, I was dashing back and forth between the craft table and the bin of wind-up airplanes where Jackson was amusing himself. He was doing okay - but I never know when he'll decide to throw an airplane across the store in mock-flight or when he'll decide to wander off towards something breakable. I maintained the dashing about until Riley was done with her project, at which time we proceeded to the acrylic pain dep N artment. We'd picked out our colors and the gesso, and were wandering back by the craft table to pick up Riley's project. The table was now crammed with children... most of them little girls. And wouldn't you know it, Riley's project was propped up for all to see, and most of the kids were now painting their own bags... with the exact same little puppy and pawprints! RileY"S A TRENDSETTER.

So, after removing the children to the car, I drove home in fervent hopes that Jackson would fall asleep before we got home. No such luck, he was still wide awake and singing Broadway showtunes when we pulled into the drive. I set Riley to work on some other project, and proceeded to coerce Jax into a nap (by falling asleep with him). Shortly after, Riley woke me up and reminded me there was PAINTING to do!

We set to work on our big painting. I tinted the gesso with blue and we covered the 4 foot x 5 foot canvas with it. Then we gathered the live flowers in the vase in the kitchen and brought them out to the Florida room for subject matter. We were just working on the drawing for the painting when Jax woke up and toddled out to the back porch/Florida room to investigate, wearing only his underwear. Hoping to buy us a little more painting time, I pointed him in the direction of the vacuum cleaner and broom - which he was all to happy to play with (don't worry, it was unplugged). He likes to take two of the vacuum's accessories and create a sword and sheath, then go about the house drawing his sword and poking at the couches, dogs, his sister and me. He was also using the Florida room door as a shield, and in mid swing suddenly got this mischevious look in his eye. He smirked at me, locked the door between the Florida room and the house, then pretended like he was going to shut it and lock Riley and me out of the house. I used my most threatening mommy voice to growl "You better not, Jackson..." Surprisingly, he actually listened to me, and abandoned both the sword and the shield (door) to join Riley and me in the Florida room. A few minutes later he was engrossed in some other game entirely. Riley and I were happily painting the petals of the flower and discussing basic tenants of color use (ie: using complementary colors instead of black for shading) when I looked up just in time to see Jackson taunt Dozer, run out into the Florida Room and shut the door behind him. Yes, the still-locked door.

Great. Oh well, not to panic. I was sure there was a window open somewhere - we usually leave the windows between the Florida room and the kitchen unlocked and partially cracked to keep the once-back-porch-now-Florida-room cool. Since Riley and I had a TON of paint already on the palate, we had to use it up before it dried. So, I put Jax in Time-Out in the corner and we kept on painting. There was plenty of time to break into the house when the painting was done. Of course, Jax never stays in Time-out too long and now he had to pee. So I relented and let him out, and with no other option, told him he could go pee behind a tree in the backyard. I shooed him out the door, then set aside my paints to go out and supervise the covert urination. When I turned back around, I spied Jax, with tightie-whities around his ankles, standing on the side of the deck (facing the street) gleefully peeing over the side. I rushed out to pull up his pants, try to explain that when peeing in public, it's best to do it OUT OF PLAIN SIGHT and direct him to a more appropriate potty spot (too late, he was already done). Shortly after we returned to the Florida room he proceeded to ride the broom around the tiny Florida room and knock over the vase of fresh flowers that we were painting from.... and it spilled ALL over the painting. Fortunately, that part of the canvas was mostly dry, so it was no huge deal, but I decided to take this break to attempt our break-in. First tried all the windows from the Florida room into the house. Surprisingly, they were all locked. I then methodically checked every other door and window. Also all locked. I ran over to the neighbor's thinking that maybe I'd given them a key - nope, one wasn't home, the other had no key. I finally began to consider other, more aggressive means of entry. I pried off some of the plastic surrounding one window - turns out they're constructed quite sturdily, and I couldn't gain entrance this way. They I found a small nail on the art table, and began tapping on the part of the window adjacent to the lock on the other side. Turns out, glass is really pretty strong... and also, I'm not such an aggressive tapper. I was starting to get worried. Brian was out of town, my iphone was inside the house, and I wasn't sure how I was going to get in. Okay. My next plan-of-attack was to out and out smash a window. I chose one that needed replacement anyway (it was a double paned window, and the seal had broken, so it was all misty and steamy between the two panes), found a block of wood and smashed as hard as I could. Well, maybe not quite as hard as I could. Actually, it turns out I'm not a very good smasher (as last year's lock-out also proved). I finally gave up, admonished the kids to stay in the back yard, and traipsed off to a neighbor's house.

When they answered the door, I did my best to try and explain my predicament, and ask to use their phone. My very nice neighbor obliged and even offered to look up a number in the phone book and call information for me, all the while commisserating with me by plying me with stories of their own lock-out. All well and good, and I was trying very very hard to listen politely - but I could see my backyard from their kitchen window, and Jackson was shooting everything in sight with the garden hose - including his sister, and unfortunately he was doing an admirable job of illustrating the idiom "you can run but you can't hide". Poor Riley was drenched. Jax was soaked as well. I tried to hurry the process by just borrowing the neighbor's phone to talk to the locksmith myself, ran out to rescue Riley, and tried to talk to another neighbor who had apparently been watching the window-smashing project from her home and came over to investigate, all the while trying to give my address to the locksmith on the phone.

Mission accomplished, the locksmith was enroute. Now nothing was left to be done but to wait... on the driveway.... in the heat. Both kids quickly became weary of playing with the sticks, rocks and grass I offered up as amusement in the front yard, and asked to go stay at the neighbor lady's house. I aquiessed and shuttled them in their wet clothes (although Jackson was still only wearing underwear) to the neighbor's front stoop and asked if they might wait in the AC while I camped out on my driveway and waited for the locksmith. She happily agreed, and I went back to my vigil. So, the locksmith finally arrived and managed to jimmy open the back door, and after about 10 minutes and $80, I collected the kids and we headed back to our now accessable home to crash on the couch.

All's well that ends well... especially when it ends in the air conditioning!

A Magical Run... apparently

It had been 2 days since I’d gotten to run, and since I figured that for the next week I would be relegated to either running laps around the cruise ship or running on a treadmill, I figured I might as well squeeze in a few miles around Disney property. I figured that an organization that hosts one marathon and 2 half marathons throughout the year was sure to have decent running paths. Ah, nope.

I started out hoping to get a couple of miles on the golf course paths - but the groundskeepers were out in force, and there were signs EVERYWHERE prohibiting running on the golf course. Normally I blatantly ignore such admonishments, but it was too light to evade capture by a groundskeeper... so I set off towards the Polynesian, in hopes of a jogging trail. I did find one that wound around the lake towards the Grand Floridian. It was about 0.6 miles in length. I did pass a cast member at that point that wished I would “Have a magical run”. Little did I realize I would need magic to get a decent run in. Try as I might, I could not find any path beyond - it was all road without even a shoulder. Great. Not one for laps I headed back to the Polynesian and the Disney “travel Center”, hoping that maybe there’d be a running trail that way. No luck. I wound up doing the middle 2 miles around the perimeter of the Disney parking lot (and couldn’t help but think it would REALLY suck to have to park this far out.) It wasn’t too bad, I stayed along the shade of the perimeter trees, and there was even some water (drainage ditch) along the way.

So it wasn’t too bad a run - although a little slow. Then we said goodbye to Shades of Green, and are now pulling into the parking lot for the Disney “Magic”. More when we get back!

The Adventure Begins!

Brian’s family has been planning a cruise for everyone for the past year. Although the cruise doesn’t leave until today, we decided to meet up with Brian’s Aunt Judy and Uncle Terry for a couple of days in the theme parks before driving over to catch the boat. Disney has been running a special for the military all year - Brian got a free 5 day pass, and all of our 5-day passes were $99 - so coupled with rooms at “Shades of Green” - the military hotel on Disney - we’ve had a great couple of days.

First, we had to get there. We drove. Since Jax is just over the hump for potty training, he really has very little advance warning for when he has to go potty. Often, we get so little warning that I have to just pull over and let him pee behind the car. I am beginning to suspect he likes this unfettered unination... every hour or so he’d yell “MOMMY! I GOTTA GO POTTY.... I POTTY IN THE GRASS?” Usually we could find a gas station, though.

Kids and Disney are so funny. Once we made it onto the property, and while still searching for our hotel, Riley and Jackson kept an eye out for, and exclaimed excitedly every time they saw some Mickey Mouse shape. Yes, they were everywhere. It was continuous squealing from the back seat every time we saw a mouse sign/bus/building. Very soothing to the nerves after almost 8 hours in the car. Yesterday we got up early to make it to the Animal Kingdom when it opened. Animal Kingdom is really my favorite of the Disney parks. There’s lots of shade, and I like its rustic and crumbly ambiance. Once the park-opening festivities were over, we booked it straight back to the Kilamanjaro Safari ride - for two reasons 1) to beat the crowd and 2) to hopefully catch a glimpse of the animals before they retreated to cooler pastures when the day heated up. After not too long a wait (we managed to just eek in front of a large group of students from Puerto Rico) we made it onto the ride, and saw lots of gazelles and elephants and giraffes. We even saw a lion - sprawled out, lying belly up on the big rock. Oddly enough, it was the exact position that Skoshi likes to assume on the tile at home. (We learned later that the big rock is actually air conditioned to entice the lion out for viewing. OHHH - OF COURSE it’s air conditioned... it all makes sense now. ) Then we walked around the tree of life for a bit while Brian trekked of for Expedition Everest Fastpasses. This back part of the Tree is actually one of my favorite parts of the park - I love hunting for the animals hidden in the bark with the kids - my favorite is the 6 foot bunny - I can’t help but think that whoever put that there must be a theater geek (you know, the play “Harvey” with the 6 foot tall white rabbit).

After watching “It’s tough to be a bug” (which was so terrifying to Jackson that he hid his face while shrieking at the top of his lungs the entire time. This is different from his usual state of loudness in that he usually just shrieks.) we tried to head over to DinoLand. This was all as dictated by my “touring plan” which instead of printing out and placing in page protectors - like I did last time - I simply downloaded to my iphone. Unfortunately, the heavens erupted in a violent thunderstorm, so we took refuge in the “Finding Nemo” musical - which Jax also found somewhat terrifying, but Riley LOVED.

So we finally made it to the BoneYard in Dinoland - where the kids made a bee line for the dirt pit with dinosaur bones. Judy watched them while we rode Everest. Then I suppose we’d dried out sufficiently because Brian thought a dousing on Kali River Rapids would be fun. I thoughtfully declined - and volunteered to stay back with Jax who was too short to ride and needed a nap anyway. (quick thinking on my part - they all got totally drenched, while I placidly watched the trained bird tricks with a quietly sleeping Jax.) After they sloshed back my way, we took Riley on Dinosaur. It may have been a little scary for her, though. When viewing the on-ride photo afterwards, everyone is staring off to the right at whatever dino was coming at us... except me. I’m looking left to check on Riley who is curled into a little ball to hide her face. Oh well. She left the ride smiling anyway!

This entire time, Jackson is asking for one of those blue water bottles with a fan on them. For some reason, he decided that this was called a “toybin”. Not sure where he got that from, but every 5 minutes I had to deny his request for the toybin.
“MOMMY, I HAVE A TOYBIN NOW?”
“no”

“MOMMY, I HAVE A TOYBIN NOW?”
“no”

“MOMMY, I HAVE A TOYBIN NOW?”
“no”

“MOMMY, I HAVE A TOYBIN NOW?”
“no”

You get the idea.

All in all it was a good day. And since we bought the 5 day pass, we get to come back for more in a month or so. We keep thinking that maybe we’ll try another hotel. But then we look at the rates for those other hotels... and so maybe we’ll just stick with Shades of Green!

Gulf Coast Triathlon

I ran 13.1 this past weekend as a part of a Triathlon relay, and it TOTALLY kicked my butt. I figured it was the length of a step-back week long run... how hard could it be?

Turns out that I get total weather amnesia - in the winter I completely forget what hot weather running is like. I also didn't take the time of day into account. By the time hubby finished his swim and our biker did his 56 miles, it was 86 degrees and humid. The race was along the beach, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I had toyed with the idea of maybe trying to PR... but by about mile 2 I realized this was totally out of the question. The support along the course was remarkably good. It was mostly through residential areas, and all the locals were out with sprinklers and water hoses. By about mile 8 I had my aid station routine down: take 2 sponges to wring over my head and then stuff them in the back of my shirt, then grab a glass of ice water, take a couple of gulps before dumping the ice under my hat, then grab a glass of gatorade. It was a great system, except for one small flaw. I usually run in a skirt, although I don't usually run in a soaking wet skirt. Apparently, they don't stay up very well when drenched. So every tenth of a mile or so I'd have to hitch up the waist band or risk running like a plumber. After a mile of this, as I was wishing for a drawstring, I remembered the safety pins on my race number. One worked very well to cinch up my waistband and spare all the spectators my blindingly pale hiney.

I finished the race about 13 minutes slower than my usually half marathon pace, but I still figure it was a good challenge - and good experience with running in the heat. Only 6 months 'til Fall!

This time I may have finally exceeded our limit.

Brian had to go to Keesler for the Air Force this weekend, so I was left to my own devices with the kids. Usually, I blame all our crazy hecticness of the weekend on Brian, but I think it may be me.
Friday
600 - I’m still soundly asleep, but Jax is up and demanding tea “MOMMY, I WANT TEA AND MILK AND NO HONEY, AND HOT TEA AND ALL STIRRED UP.” “That’s nice, Jackson, but how do you ask for that?” “UMM... MAY I HAVE SOME TEA AND MILK AND NO HONEY, AND HOT TEA AND ALL STIRRED UP.... PWEESE.”
0630 - I finally cave to the above demands and get up.
0715 - Riley decides to come and investigate all the ruckus.
0730 - After getting the kids fed and almost dressed (left with only the assignment to get their shoes and socks on), I manage to hop into the shower, only to have to hop out again in 2 minutes to investigate the screaming coming from the other room (oh well, shampooing is overrated, anyway.)
0745 - Put Zurg in time-out and threaten the very life of Buzz Lightyear. Decide it’s not worth the hassle to change the shoes onto the right feet and address the backwards underwear and shorts. The carpool for preschool is waiting in the driveway. Send him to school the way he is and figure they’ll understand. Then realize that Riley’s lunch isn’t packed yet, and she’s still in the middle of an imaginary game with a couple of scarves instead of getting her shoes on. Throw leftover sandwich and some carrots in her lunchbag, shoes on her feet and hustle her out the door by 0800
0808 Drop Riley off at the neighbor’s and hurry to work.
0815 - make it to work - late again.
1238 - Finish with patients and paperwork and run out the door to make it to Riley’s school in order to volunteer at art class
1240 - Riley’s class arrives at art. Riley gets a hug and goes to sit down. I and the art teacher notice that one child is carrying his shoes - so she requests he put them back on.
1300 - After declining multiple attempts to get above child to put his shoes back on, the art teacher send me and him into the hallway to address the issue
1305 - Still no shoes on. I’ve shown him how to untie each shoe, but he still can’t muster the coordination/strength/obedience to actually get the shoes on his feet (“but it’s too hard!”) I absolutely decline to put the shoes on his feet for him. “If my 3 year old can put on his own shoes, so can you.” I tell him
1308 - After about 10 minutes of his whining and flailing about on the linoleum while trying to get me to put on and tie his shoe for him, I finally managed to threaten him (with his name on the board) back into his shoes and into the classroom. (See, parenting Jackson IS good for me. I would never had been prepared for the above interaction based on experience with Riley, I’m a much meaner mommy now...)
1340 - Art class over, I head back home for lunch and maybe an episode of CSI before going to pick up Jackson.
1415 - I decide that CSI is too scary to watch by myself, and go and pick up Jackson a little early.
1500 - Jax and I go and pick up Riley
1530 - We all come home, quick change into swim suits to go to the pool. Jax absolutely refuses sunscreen, so I spread a towel on the carpet, catch him, pin him down and slather him with SPF 80, all the while he is screaming bloody murder. Riley is much more amenable to the sunscreen idea after this show of force.
1600 - Arrive at the pool and swim until both kids are blue enough to warrant leaving. (Jackson is insisting he’s not cold, and yet intrigued with the idea of the color change “I’M B-B-B-B-LUE, M-M-M-M-OMMY? I’M B-B-B-BLUE?”)
1800 - Strip everyone down and hose off the chlorine and sunscreen before dressing them back up to look respectable for Riley’s piano recital.
1900 - Riley’s piano recital. We arrived early at the auditorium and made our way inside. I was a little dubious about Jackson’s ability to sit still for the 45 minutes of the recital, and so was grateful one of Riley’s friend’s and family had come too. Worst case scenario, I could run out with Jax and let them wait for Riley. We were all getting ready for the performance to start when one of the other mom’s asked if she could video her child’s performance. The response? “Oh, no. That would be against the rules” said one very elderly piano teacher “why, when I was the chairperson of the State Concerto Competition we never allowed video cameras.” So even though this was definitely NOT a state concerto competition, we could not stand in the back of the room and video our own child’s performance. Crazy.

So crazy, in fact, that I just assumed they didn’t really mean it. I tried to surreptitiously video her performance, but as I had to do it without looking like I was doing anything, I don’t think I got it at all. Oh well. I then spent the rest of the recital trying to keep Jackson from shouting and giggling at the motorcycle racing game on my iphone and trying to get Riley to turn around and face forwards and stop poking at the little boy beside her (she was 2 rows ahead of us in the “Recital Participant” area)

8PM - Recital over, I head with the kids to the Niceville High School football stadium for the annual Relay for Life event. It’s a 24 hour community walk/run around the track for cancer awareness and fundraising. My clinic sponsors it and has a booth. I wanted to stop by and confirm that it was still okay for me to drop the kids off in the early am so I could run with Kristen. The kids love it because all the booths are set up around the track and each one has some sort of game and some sort of food that is usually forbidden to them (candy, cookies, marshmallows). We walked around one lap, played a couple of games and I allowed the kids one sweet thing apiece.

8:30 - I manage to get the kids to leave Relay for Life and on the way back to the car Jackson has to go potty. There’s no portapotty in sight, so I let him pee behind a tree. Then, decided we needed a couple of items for the early am camp-out, and went to Kmart.

9pm - One Jackson-melt-down later, we exit the Kmart with a small “Dora” tent and a sleeping bag (complete with flashlight) for Jackson (Riley already had one), as well as a toy for the birthday party we’ve agreed to attend the following day. Jackson picked it out. “It’s for the BABY’S birthday tomorrow, Jax, remember that.”

9:15 - Jackson tries to convince me that he IS a baby and therefore the toy is for him.

9:45 - both kids in bed, I decide to make homemade granola bars for the following morning.

Midnight - I finally decide to go to bed.

Saturday
3:45 AM - My alarm goes off. I adroitly disable the alarm and proceed to fall back asleep and dream I’m running. (I had pretty good splits, too)

4:45 - I wake up, realize I’m supposed to be at the high school already.

5AM - I have tossed both kids into the car with their sleeping bags and tent and am on the way to the school

5:15 - I set the kids up with sleeping bags, tent, granola bars (known to my kids as “cookies”) and my iphone.

5:20 - pause in my running to referee a squabble over who gets to hold the iphone

5:25 - stop to clean up spilled water in the Dora tent

6am - finish running, gather up the kids and supplies and head to coffee shop with Kristen and Joe

630 - Coffee shop is still closed, so reconvene to my house for coffee on the deck.

830 - After Kristen and Joe leave, get the kids looking presentable, douse them in sunscreen again and gather swimming gear

9am - Christy and Nicole arrive to pick us up for brunch and playground time at Baytowne Warfe

10am - Arrive at Baytowne, put our names on the waitlist at “Another Broken Egg” restraurant for the “15-20 minute wait” promised us by the hostess. I head to playground with the kids, Christy waits with pager, ready to call us back when our table is ready.

1030 - Still waiting for our table, I come back with the kids in order to take Riley to the bathroom and wash out the sunscreen she’s managed to rub in her eyes. Nicole is mad that Riley won’t play with her, so I try to patiently explain that at the moment, Riley can not see.

1045 - 45 minutes after the start of the 15-20 minute wait, Our table finally ready, we sit down and prepare to order instantly.... only to have the waitress completely vanish after taking our drink order.

1055 - Place breakfast order

1110 - realize we will have no time to eat, and hurriedly try to change to a to-go order... just as our food arrives at the table. We hurriedly shove everything into to-go containers and head to the car hoping we can make it to the other side of Destin in time for the girl’s swim lesson.

11:30 - Girls are just in time for swimming, and we finally get to eat. Happily munch on breakfast while amazedly watch the instructors teach our 6-year-olds the butterfly stroke.

1230 - Dry and dress the girls, and pile everyone back in the car to go BACK to the restaurant for the bag of webkins puppies that we inadvertently left under our breakfast table.

1:45 - Arrive back at home, transfer sleeping Jackson from Christy’s car to mine, hurriedly wrap the birthday present and head back out with Riley and Jax (he’s still asleep), up to Crestview for a birthday party.

2:30 Arrive at the party, plop still-sleeping Jackson on the couch and try to get Riley to stop hiding behind me and say “Hello” to everyone.

4pm - Birthday party over, we head back home. Riley wishes she could do some thing to cool off. “How about swimming?” Sure, why not.

5:45 - Herd the kids back out of the swimming pool and head for a quiet dinner at home. Plug them into “Finding Nemo” and decide to make a Vegetable curry (so much for easy dinner).

8:30 - Everyone is finally fed, movie is over and we’re all in bed.

Sunday
6:30 - Get up and get ready for babysitter.

7AM - Baby sitter arrives and Jackson wakes up simultaneously. Try to explain to baby sitter about Jax and his tea, decide it’s just easier to make it for him myself.

7:10 - out the door with Skoshi for a trail run with Kristen, Joe and Misty

8:00 - arrive back at home, dismayed to have only accomplished 5 miles (darn sandy trails - slow me down every time!) Drop off Skosh, tell Jax he can watch one show and head back out for a few more miles.

805 - get call from the baby sitter who can’t decipher our DVR system. So turn around and head back home

810 - I can’t figure out the DVR either, so I pop in a video and head back out.

830 - Finally done with 8 miles, baby sitter goes home and I herd the kids out the door and onto their bikes for a trip to the coffee shop. (Riley has to bring her 3 favorite webkins with her, and Jax simply can not got without his backpack - packed with walkie-talkie on one side and flashlight on the other).

1030 - back home from the coffee shop, I start packing for our trip up to Baker to see the baby horses (a friend of mine breeds horses).

1230 - Finally make it up to Baker. Bev is not around, so we wander over to the fence to gaze at the baby horses. The kids each have a carrot in hand that they are holding through the fence, while Jax yells “HORSES, WE HAVE CARROTS HERE! HORSES!” Not surprisingly, the horses decline to come anywhere near us (and I always thought horses were dumb). Bev finally came back to the house from the back pasture, and led us in to see the baby horses. My kids were enraptured! Later, while walking back to the car, I noted Jackson holding the front of his pants.

“Jax, do you have to go potty?”

“NOPE”

“Are you sure?”

“YUP”

(it was obvious he had to go but didn’t want to miss all the excitement - so I suggested that he might be able to just pee behind a tree. This was the country, after all.)

“OKAY”

I then turned around to seek out a private tree, only to turn back (amidst gasps and giggles) to find Jax had stripped off his pants and underwear and was holding his tshirt up to his armpits. I hurriedly try to reclothe him and explain that it’s probably best to be more discrete when peeing in public. Jackson, unfortunately, has become quite aware of the effect this stripping antic has had on everyone, and runs away giggling. Great. I can just hear the reprimand from his preschool teacher now.) I did, however have the presence of mind to snap a picture. I can’t post it on the internet, though.... to see that one you’ll have to come to Jackson’s wedding in 25 years.
2:00 - We ran out of carrots, and so packed back into the car and headed to the Strawberry Farm just up the road for some Strawberry shortcake. While there, the kids get to pet a puppy and a baby goat. This was quite the weekend for baby animals. Must be spring.

2:30 - Since we hadn’t done quite enough this weekend, I head back out to the strawberry fields to pick some berries.

3:00 - I realize we’re cutting it close for our pool play date at 4pm, and shuttle the kids back home for another quick change into still-damp swim suits.

5:30 - Once again try to convince the kids that they are far too cold to contine swimming. Jackson is completely at the end of his poor little sleep-deprived rope (hmmn, wonder why), and has decided that one of the other little boys at the pool has stolen his water torpedo (a toy from Target). He has a TOTAL melt down, which requires me to forcibly restrain him from ambushing the other little boy. In spite of my numerous attempts to reassure him that his torpedo is at home, he is utterly inconsolable. The playdate ends with the other family ackwardly excusing themselves and driving off with uncomfortable waves while I stand over the puddle of boy that was once my beloved Jackson, now shrieking on the floorboards of the backseat of the car.

6:30 - Somehow manage to scoop Jax into his carseat, make it home and feed the kids leftover curry. Brian gets home shortly thereafter, and seems somewhat perplexed by the 3 exhausted family members staring wanly at him.

“Nice to see you. Ah, we’re going to bed.”

My skills at weekend event planning bear a remarkable similarity to my skills at burrito construction. Somehow it all fits, but it’s never pretty.

Boston Marathon

I’ve been battling some SI/piriformis issues ( due to 3 marathons in 6 months) and had been to see the physical therapist twice in the week before the marathon - with one last visit on Thursday before the race for massage, ultrasound and iontophoresis and an admonition to “Stay Symmetric.”.. and ice like there’s no tomorrow. Later, while sitting on a bag of ice at the hotel, I recieved a call from the above therapist, K, who is also my friend and running partner. She’d flown up to Boston to see her grandmother and surprise me! (Long story, but we were supposed to run Boston together with another friend, but due to injury and late qualifying, I was running it solo. Also, I had to leave Brian and the kids in Florida, so I was rather lonely). We planned to meet up at the Newton hills during the marathon, but until then she had to help out Grandma.

After the race start, I remembered the strict admonitions to NOT go out too fast during that first downhill portion of the race, and managed to stay at 8:50 for the first mile, then dropped it to 8:28, 8:31, 8:32. One amazing thing about that downhill portion is the thick river of humanity that stretches out in front of you. I would love to see an aerial shot of the race route at about 10:45! The holiday atmosphere along the route is amazing! I love watching the families and kids out all bundled up and handing out oranges and water. It’s awesome high-fiveing those little mittened hands! Although, I’m always wary of taking food from strangers... well, except for that beer from the boys at mile 11. They were preferentially offering beers to the male runners, and so I took one. Mostly just to see what the response would be (and it was impressive, lots of hoots and hollars, a couple of photos and a “YOU’RE THE MAN, ANN” As a side note, I have never been so glad that I wrote my name on my shirt! Or that it’s such an easy name to read! All the kids along the course were cheering for me!)

The weather was AMAZING to run in! Cool and breezy - it felt wonderful. Almost too good! It seems like every real runner has a story about Boston in terrible conditions (my friend K ran it in 80 degrees with a broken rib), but today was perfect. No excuse for running poorly! And, this was likely to be my last cool weather run until October - so I had to enjoy every minute of it!

My splits continued to be rather unremarkable. 8:24, 8:33, 8:36, 8:30, 8:34. I was running exactly according to my plan to re-qualify for next year. I must have gotten a bit excited by the beer at mile 11, because the next split was 8:18. But then I managed to get back on track 8:33, 8:25.

The women of Wellesley were amazing! I had heard about them, but then to hear them from a mile away!

Mile 15, I really started to struggle, and my splits reflected it. I dropped to 8:45. Looking for something to motivate me, I started spotting and thanking all the military I could see on the course. That helped a bit, and I managed 8:22, but then dropped to 8:46. About this point in the race was where I planned to meet up with K (blue mailbox at the corner of Washington and Hope). The hills were beating me up, and I sorely needed some help getting through them. K jumped onto the course and ran with me for the next 4 miles. After my next split was 8:42, I dejectedly commented that I was NOT going to make my goal time. So K kicked my butt back in gear and told me to shut up, stop highfiving the kids and just run. Hence, my next splits through the hills were 8:08, 8:24, 8:36 (up heartbreak hill) and 8:08 (back down the other side). Then K wished me luck and split off before course security could throw her off the course. (Now THAT’s a true friend - one that flies a thousand miles to run Boston bandit and get you through the Newton hills!)

It was all downhill from there, and I ran 8:26, 8:26, 8:32 and 8:38. That Citgo sign is so much bigger and much more beautiful in person!

Then that last half mile! 10 people deep on either side! There is something very cool and rock-star-ish about staring straight ahead and running amidst all that adoration! Then, turning that final corner onto Boylston, seeing the clear blue sky and the finish line framed by the historic buildings of Boston on either side, with a fringe of people and police lining my peripheral vision and completely filling my ears with that amazing bouyant and raucous noise that is the fireworks finale of the Boston Marathon. Truly the finish line of Boston could never be merely the blue banner over your head and the timing mat beneath your feet. It’s that entire glorious last half mile. (that last little split - 7:54)

I’ve run my entire life just to experience that.

And I made it in 3:44:18. One second slower than my PR, but it’s a BQ and I even managed to run the second half 22 seconds faster than the first. I’ll definately be back next year.

After the finish line, all the runners are given a silver mylar blanket (okay, so now I get the need for the blanked. With all that Boston wind, I was FREEZING!). We were instructed to head down to the “Chip removal area” and have our chips removed from our shoes. I picked up a power bar “Recovery” along the way - it was terrible! Tasted exactly like a crumbly candle. I took one bite and immediately began looking for a trash can to toss it. After finally finding one I tried to throw the bar away... only to miss the can and have the bar fall to the ground. This may sound wimpy after running so far, but I just stood there, wistfully looking at the powerbar at my feet, wondering how the heck was I going to bend down to pick it up AND get back up again. A few other runners gathered to ponder the issue with me. Then I just bit the bullet, and retieved it - and obtained a little assistance to become vertical again. I then sought out the chip removers. Boston doesn’t use the plastic ties to keep the chip on your shoe, apparently they break too easily. Rather, they make you actually tie it through your shoelaces. The chips don’t fall off, but then you have to untie your shoe to return it. Feeling emboldened by my recent feat of picking up the powerbar, I actually managed to remove my own Chip! I was very proud. Unfortunately, I only managed to walk another 10 feet before I had to return and have someone retie my shoe. I recieved my medal and reclaimed my gear bag and headed to the subway. I had brought my favorite recovery drink with me (single serving Horizon Chocolate milk) and consumed 3 of them while waiting for the T. Once the train arrived it was very clear that not only was it filled to capacity with marathon runners and spectators, but that I and everyone waiting with me was getting on anyway. We were packed in so tightly that even though I couldn’t reach anything to hold onto, I had no difficulty standing up anyway.

Two trains and a half mile walk back to the B&B later, I gathered a couple of bins of ice headed to the tub for my customary post-marathon ice bath. (yes, it’s as miserable as it sounds, but it helps recover in the long run). I ran cold water into the tub, poured in the ice and cringed as I lowered myself into it. As I may have mentioned before, I’m a wus, and so I had the spare blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and was watching “Pride and Prejudice” on my iphone while waiting for the requisite 15 minutes in the ice bath to pass.

And I suppose that’s the end. And now no more marathons until the fall. Just a 10k this Sunday, and then maybe another race in May (but it’s only a half-marathon)...

Hopkinton

In case you’ve missed my barrage of Facebook updates, Monday was my latest marathon. As I may have mentioned before, I love marathons. Therefore, I try to write down as much as I can remember about them so that I can go back and remember everything. I know, it’s a bit long, and probably not very interesting, so feel free to skim and skip at will. Oh, and I was too long winded to get it all into one blog post, so this one is only the athlete’s village and pre -race. And since Brian says I need to turn the computer off and go to bed, the race part of it will have to wait until tomorrow.

I got up at 530 grabbed breakfast, walked to the T (subway), and made my way to Boston Commons. I had met up with another runner along the way, and we got into the incredibly long line waiting to get into the bus for Hopkinton. There were 3 huge lines, each feeding into about 3 school busses. As soon as one would fill up, they’d drive away and nine more busses would pull up. In spite of how effective this sounds, that line moved remarkably slow.

After piling onto the bus, we were off to Hopkinton. It took about an hour and a half to get there in a bus, and was going to take me hopefully less than 4 hours to get back.

The athletes village was set up on the grounds of the local high school - basically it was a big open field with two big tents, a long line for bagels and coffee, and an even longer line for the hundreds of port-a-potties. Having priorities, I got in line for the coffee first. It was so cold that morning that I had layered in 2 shirts, a sweatshirt, sweatpants and old shoes. And still, my hands were shaking so much from the cold that I kept spilling the precious coffee. I finally managed to get enough down to warm up a bit and I headed towards the portapotty lines. They were massive and slow moving, and I only had about 2 hours to get through them before the race started.

An HOUR later, I made it through the line and the loudspeaker announced that my number group was called and advised to begin heading towards the start corrals. It was at this point that I may have made the most crucial mistake... I was too reluctant to strip down to the sleeveless shirt under all my layers and apply sunscreen. I brought it with me but just couldn’t force my self to expose bare skin to the cold. So I simply changed from my old toss-able shoes into my shoes for the marathon, stripped off the middle layer of shirt (without removing the outer layer), and left my shoes at the clothing donation tent. I kept my sweats on (technically they were Brian’s sweats from college, but I’d long since commandeered them) until a later donation site, and then tossed them just before the start. I also managed to pick up some free gloves (with the marathon logo and HP logo on them) - okay, so I picked up 4 pairs, but they weren’t all for me. I gave one to Jackie (a rheumatologist from Canada that I met on the bus) and one for each of my running partners.) I then took my bag to the buses that would transport them to the finish line. I was impressed with their creative use of school buses for this purpose. Each window of the school bus was labeled with a number range corresponding to our race bib number. After finding your assigned window, you handed your bag to the volunteer waiting inside the window, thereby turning the bus into a honeycomb of runner’s bags. Immediately after handing mine off, I remembered I had accidentally left my pace bracelet in my gear bag. And I’d worked so hard on it, too! Nike had a booth at the expo where you could tell them your goal finish time and they’d print out a custom pace bracelet with a goal pace for each mile based on the actual incline or decline of that particular section of the race. It sounds good in theory, but Boston starts out with a significant decline. And if you run that portion too fast, you WILL pay for it after mile 20 (trust me. My 2 worst marathons were because of the first 5 miles). So, fortunately, I’ve had enough good sense (ie: experience) to look at that bracelet (which recommended an 8:17 first mile!!), scoff and toss it. Fortunately I’d come across a spreadsheet on the internet that did a similar customization of pace for Boston, but seemed like it was created by someone who’d actually run a marathon. So, I’d printed it out, and then coated it with clear acrylic craft paint to make it waterproof, and stitched it onto a velcro wrist band. Yes, I am crazy. But then I FORGOT it in my gear bag!

The first wave of runners started the race at 10. I was in the second wave at 10:30. Historically, there is a F15 flyover at the start of the marathon - and it occurred just as I was leaving the Athlete’s Village for the Second Wave Start. It was neat to see - but quite honestly, only because it is part of the history and the legend of the Boston Marathon. The actual flyover wasn’t all that impressive. Nice for it’s historic significance, but I’ve spent too many years in the Air Force and married to the Air Force and living at the end of the runway of an f15 base in Japan to be all that impressed by 2 planes flying by. (Nothing compared to the joy of 10 consecutive f15 takeoffs at 6 am on a Saturday morning.) Before I could As I began the long walk to the start corrals, chit chatting with random people along the way. For some it was their first Boston, others had run many before. The start corals were amazingly chaotic, everyone trying to sort themselves into their alloted spot. I finally found corral 17 - about 1 minute before the race started - and crammed into it with the other thousand runners assigned. We were packed in so tightly that it was impossible to be cold.

Surprisingly, the race started on time - and it only took me 2 minutes to get to the start.

The Boston Finish Line - one day early

This is not my race report, just some reminiscing. The picture above is from the day before the marathon, although the post below is actually from the day after. I've had much more time on my hands this weekend, and I get to pondering.
Ten years ago, Brian and I had just gotten married and moved into our new house in North Dakota. It was my last year of medical school, and I had saved up ALL my vacation time so that I could spend the entire spring semester with Brian. Unfortunately, due to the nature of Brian's job, he was gone most of that time- first to Saudi for a month and then once the US began bombing Kosovo he was moved to London for a indefinate period of time.
We had just bought a house and I had undertaken the task of decorating and painting. As I was newly married and this was my first home, I had no clue how poor my interior decorating taste truly is. So I started with the basement. Basements generally give me the creeps- I find them cold and dismal, so I thought that a nice cheery yellow would help to brighten up the space.
As I set to the daunting task of taping and painting, I kept the TV on for company, and since I was up and down on the chair and usually had painty fingers, I left the TV on the same channel and watched whatever came on. This is how I wound up watching a documentary about marathons. I was kind-of a runner then, but generally no more than 3 miles. Five at the most. I'm not sure why, but for some reason running a marathon has always been alluring. I distinctly recall watching, from beginning to end, Joan Benoit run and win the 1984 Olympic marathon (I was 11years old at that time, and as my father will attest, not one to willingly sit still through any sport spectating event).
As I listened I did the mental math ( let's see ten minute miles times 26... 260 minutes divided by 60... That's 4 and 1/2 HOURS of running). Then they talked of the Boston Marathon and the qualifying times needed to enter. Almost TWO minutes faster than my typical pace. Oh well, I would never be able to run fast enough to enter the Boston marathon. It is rather deflating to realize that there us something out there that is completely out of your realm of possibility (at least is is when you're 24.) There was no way I could run so fast so far. All regular people ran ten minute miles as far as I knew.

So, for the rest of the story...

And as soon as I put the last stroke of paint on the wall I knew. It was as if something clicked. The room almost began to glow and throb with yellow. It was so horrid that it burned your retinas to look at and would surely induce a seizure if one sat in there for long. It was exactly like living inside of a yellow highlighter. I had to repaint it immediately to a soothing shade if green. Thankfully Brian wasn't there to witness the horror. He never would have let me pick out paint colors again. And yellow is not that easy to cover up.

Oh, and yesterday I ran the Boston Marathon.

Boston Bound

I got up at 4:30 this morning in order to make my flight to Boston- via a four hour layover in Dallas. I've been packing for this trip for about two weeks now, shuffling and re-packing until I'm now certain to have forgotten something or other. I was going to just take a carry on, but then couldn't figure out how to get my mousse to Boston. And really, if you're at all familiar with my hair you know that traveling without the certainty of reliable mousse is not an option. Hence I had toyed with the idea of just shipping a box of "checked baggage" to myself but found it would be easier to just check a bag, although not necessarily cheaper. The fee to check my bag was more than the postage to ship it. The point is, I have shuffled my stuff from backpack to box to one bag and then another. Im trying to minimize the baggage I have to tote through Boston because I'm moving from one hotel to a bed and breakfast after the first night. I'd put off reserving a hotel room until February. I had thought two months would be ample lead time, but judging from the incredulous tone of many an innkeeper when I inquired about room availability(" oh no- that's MARATHON weekend") it was a bit late. Hence I wound up with a reservation at a large hotel chain in a Boston suburb that seemed roughly equivalent to staying in Queens. I was already bummed about going top this marathon solo(running partners are injured or otherwise unable to run, and flying the family up for the weekend was just too cost prohibitive) but then isolating myself further in a hotel room far from all the hubbub was just too depressing. So I managed to find a B&B in Cambridge for the second two nights, but the trade off is that I have to lug all my stuff on the Boston subway(the T) from hotel A to hotel B and then head back to the expo to pick up my number.
Fortunately for my packing needs, I'm leaving my two most complex items at home... Jackson and Riley. It's amazing how much you don't have to carry in your purse when the two monkeys aren't tagging along. This downsizing of my purse allowed me to take a good hard look at its contents: animal crackers, Slinky, baby wipes, hotwheels, dum dum suckers, bandaids, ponytails, jet airplane etc. All of which is indispensable for daily life with the two monkeys, but rather superfluous when it's just me.
So now I'm in flight and feeling oddly exposed. Traveling without kids feels a little like suddenly not having internet access- I am cut off not only from all my usual ways of interacting with people (usually I have either a child in tow or a stethoscope. Both of which fundamentally alter the way people treat you)but I'm at a total loss of what to do with myself. I miss having a little head to steer (because steering Jackson with his noggin is by far the most effective means of getting him going in the right direction. There's even a handy little divot at the base of his skull that seems just made for this purpose). And who do I talk to without Brian around or Riley's incessant chatter and questions?

No wonder I feel like I forgot to pack something... I did.

Butterfly Pavillion

We took the kids with Denny and Cathy to see the nearby butterfly gardens. They were both so excited, it was all Riley could talk about that maybe a butterfly would land on her and maybe she could hold one. Even Jackson was excited to go and see the Buhfwies.

It had turned into a beautiful day and the butterflies were out in force. We paused to watch the leaf-like butterflies sucking the sugar out of some bananas and oranges, then worked our way around to the fish pond. The kids and Brian had gone ahead, when I came upon an elderly couple sitting very still - with butterflies sitting on their hands. Remembering Riley’s dream of having a butterfly land on her, I ran ahead and brought her back to see, and maybe even to hold one.

She was fascinated, and a little loud. The elderly gentleman was kind enough to give me the butterfly on my hand, and I tried to transfer it to Riley’s coat. Unfortunately the butterfly had other ideas, and flittered away. Then it came back and landed lightly on Riley’s coat! Perfect - her wish come true.


Not sure what I expected at that point, but I sure did NOT expect Riley to sudden become horror-struck and start shrieking at the top of her lungs “IT’S ON ME! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”

I later asked her why she was so scared of the gentle butterfly when it was the very thing she was wishing for just a moment before. She replied “Mommy, up close they are really scary!” Hmmn. Maybe somethings are better left imagined from afar.

Eleven miles on the Chattahoochee

The family and I are visiting Brian's Aunt and Uncle in Georgia for the weekend (it's spring break). I took Friday and Monday off and treated myself to some much needed rest. True to Murphy's law, there was a deluge of rain Friday and Saturday. Not too ideal for driving, and downright prohibitive for running. Hence Brian and I slogged to the gym on Fort Benning on Saturday. It's a fantastic, HUGE gym, but there is truly little that is more miserable than running on a treadmill. I thought I'd make it a bit more interesting with some hill intervals. But I soon came to the conclusion that hill intervals are even more depressing on a treadmill because there is no down hill. Anyway, we headed home and hoped for better weather in the AM.


Okay, for this next part, you are ONLY allowed to keep reading if you agree to never ever EVER chastise me about judgments made herein. Seriously. If you are at all one of those people who simply can not allow questionable decisions made by others go without comment then just stop now. I'm really doing you a favor, trust me.

Fortunately, Sunday dawned with gorgeous weather, although maybe a little chilly. Uncle Denny was going out to walk the dogs along the Chattahoochee river, and I tagged along. I figured I could run 2 miles one way, then turn around and run 10 the other way to meet up with the family at the Fort Benning playground. In retrospect, there were numerous indications that running along a river might have been a bad idea at this particular juncture (for example, the extensive flooding in North Dakota that has been so prominently in the news might have been seen as foreshadowing, but I generally try not to view my life as a novel.... rather I tend to find the "potential amusing blog post" vantage point much more comfortable. Additionally, the 2 preceding days of hard rain should have tipped me off). I blithely set off with my iphone set to track the run. I don’t usually run with my iphone, but thought it would be nice to have along in case of emergency. This riverwalk is really a nice running/biking path (much different from the riverwalk in San Antonio), and there were lots of other families and bikers out enjoying the balmy weather. After almost 2 miles, I did come upon an impasse in the road. Water was completely over this part of the trail. No great loss, though, I was due to turn around anyway. I snapped a picture gathered up the ID and earbuds that came unraveled from my pocket and went along my merry way. I did feel bad about only going 1.9 miles, instead of 2 (it's a problem, I know) so I took the opportunity to run up and down (a couple of times each) any flights of stairs I came across. Later I came across a pretty covered boardwalk, snapped another picture, thinking "wow, this is going to be a great run, how lucky I am to have such beautiful scenery to run in".

























About a mile or two down the path, I came to yet another section that was blocked by the overflowing river. There was a steep but easily accessible path up the bank, so it would be easily circumvented. I pulled out my iphone to snap another picture, and while replacing it in its pocket, noticed that something was conspicuously absent - my ID. Great. So, I headed BACK to the site of my last picture, fervently hoping that some well meaning cyclist hadn't picked it up to mail to its rightful owner. Sure enough, there it was, exactly were I'd left it. I was replacing it in my pocket when I happened to notice the "low battery" warning on my iphone (yes, I planned poorly all around for this run). So I quickly phoned Brian to let him know that my phone was dead and I would likely be delayed by detours around flooded running paths. I had no sooner hung up the phone when my iphone ceased to function. Oh well, I was pretty sure how far I had to go to get to the base. I headed South along the riverwalk to the spot where the river was over the path, scrambled the 20 foot climb (practically a path in itself) up the bank, and continued on the sidewalk up there for a bit until the path down on the riverwalk was dry again. Piece of cake. I ran another little bit, waving to the fishermen out that morning, then came to another impasse. Just as before, I scrambled up the side to drier ground. This stretch was significantly longer, and as I trotted along, jumping over humongous ant piles and trying not to sprain my ankles in the random gopher holes, I couldn't help but notice how pathetically shallow the water over the sidewalk was below. I could clearly see the sidewalk underneath it, and judging from the scant bit of bottoms of the trashcans that were being lapped by the water, it couldn't have been more than a couple of inches deep. Hence I felt quite silly leaping over soggy, pockmarked terrain. Finally, the trail cleared again, and I scrambled back down to run on dry ground. After another mile or so I came to the next impasse. I could almost see the other side of this one, and judging from the lamp post in the middle, the water was only shin deep. But still, once again I scampered up the embankment... only to find that I couldn't keep going (I don't really remember why. I've oddly blocked that part out completely). There was a wooden fence between me and an apartment complex. So, I figured maybe it was time to abandon the riverwalk in lieu of higher ground. Fortunately, part of the ground under the fence was washed out. So, like the Pokey Little Puppy, I scooted underneath it and was back up and running before any of the residents could come out and suggest that maybe I was trespassing. Turns out, there was no high and dry sidewalk along this part of the Riverwalk, but only a dead end and a residential area. And this was not just any residential area, this was one of those, chain-link-around-the-front-lawns of very dilapidated houses, Beat-up-cars with those fancy spinney tires and everyone shocked as all get-out to see someone running down the street as they slowly drove by with palpitation-inducing base spilling from their oh so darkly tinted windows. No problem, really, ahhh, not nervous at all, just trying to run confidently like I really belong there and am not nervous about this situation at all. After I realized that there was no way in hell that I was going to make it back down to some other part of the riverwalk if I kept going, I turned back, looped around and made my way back to where I came from, feeling silly for not just splashing along through the water. This was really getting to be a frightening neighborhood, and although most of the human residents were still in their houses, all the canine ones were definitely up and ready to greet me - with a growl and string of yelps to remind me "COME EVEN ONE FOOT CLOSER, REALLY, I DARE YOU. COME ON, JUST LOOK AT ME AND I'LL CLAW THROUGH THIS FENCE AND SHOW YOU!" Of course, then Doggie B in that yard would take these comments of Doggie A personally, and snarl a "OH YEAH? YOU WANT A PIECE OF THIS" and next thing I knew they would be on their hind feet trying to remove the trachea from the opposing doggie's neck. At about this point, I began to mentally compose my will. (Really. Kristen, I bequeathed you my spot in the Boston Marathon. You can just take my ID (they'll find it in my back pocket with the damn out-of-battery iphone) and tell them you've lost a lot of weight since that picture was taken when you were pregnant, oh, and you cut your hair since then. But they never really look at those pictures anyway. But then you'd have to run the marathon under my name... maybe you could just say you're doing it in memory of your poor friend who was eaten by pit bulls in an unsavory part of Georgia).

I finally made it back to the apartment complex, scooted under the fence and back down to the riverwalk to take another good look at that flooded section. I checked my iphone. Yup, still nonfunctional, so I stashed it back in my back pocket. From what I could tell, the water was only going to be around my knees for about 10 feet. So, with a sigh about my brand new Brooks running shoes (this was only the second time I'd worn them, and I'm auditioning them for the honored role of Boston Marathon shoe) I slogged into the cold, muddy water. As the water reached my shins I thought "This isn't SO bad", then as it got up to my knees I had to slow to a walk and thought "HMMN. I wasn't expecting it to be this high quite so soon." Then as it crept up to mid thigh I realized my iphone was in danger, and just tried to hold it up, still in my shorts pocket so it would be out of the water, because surely I was near the middle. Then I quickly realized maybe it was best to just remove the iphone and ID from my shorts and put them in my jog bra. The ID made it into my bra, but I began to think this may not be the safest place for the iphone, as water was now at my waist and lapping the bottom of said bra. Shortly after, when the water was to my armpits, I remembered one key piece of information. I don't know why it is, but it's always about 2 minutes after the information would have been useful that I actually recall it. About 2 miles back, while leaping over ant piles and downed trees, I also leapt over a downed sign. It read "CAUTION. ALLIGATOR HABITAT" Once I recalled this tidbit, I began to mutter "OH S*!@T! OH S@*!T! OH S@!*T!” (although I actually may have been yelling, who knows) as I frantically tried to run (not so easy in chest deep, 40 degree water), look all around me for that ominous black reptile I was sure would be making it's way towards me, hold my iphone safely overhead and wonder if all this thrashing/running was more likely to draw the carnivorous reptiles my way. After I finally made it to dry ground, I wrung out and retied the shirt around my waist, and tried to look nonchalant. "Look, there's a biker!" Surely this meant it was all dry path from here on out. As I approached the biker (he was adjusting the gear in his bike trailer), he queried as to the pass-ability of the way I'd just came. I warned him not to try it, and then asked about the path up ahead. I could now see there was water over it, but figured since he'd come through it must be decently passable. "Ah, no" he slurred "it's completely flooded that way."

Wait a minute. If it's flooded from where I came, and flooded where I'm going HOW DID THE DRY BIKER GET WHERE WE ARE NOW? In retrospect, I think he may have lived there, but I didn't really want to stick around and puzzle it out. I cautiously trotted up to the edge of the next impasse, but decided maybe it was best not to try my luck a second time(I really and truly am adverse to reptiles, they give me the heebee geebees like nothing else). So, up the side of the riverbank I went... again. This time it was not some nice little trail or grassland, but utter woodlands. There was dense brush, dead and downed trees, crumbling embankments, dead leaves, and those annoying thorny vines that I somehow ALWAYS run into. They sting, they draw blood, they leave lovely scars. Oh, and did I mention the MUD and the crumbling embankment? And all of this I had to traverse one handed, because I had at present NO DRY SPOT to stash the iphone (yes, I do absolutely love my iphone.) At one particularly steep and crumbly part I considered lobbing the phone to the top and then using both hands to climb after it, but realized it was highly likely I wouldn’t make it up there, and didn’t want to go through all this AND loose my phone. But still, all was going (relatively) well, until I came upon a random 6 foot chain link fence running through the wilderness. (At this point I considered checking my iphone again, but I couldn't think of how I was going to tell Brian where to find me "Well, I was on this street named Howe, and now I think I'm somewhere in some woods between that street and the river. Landmarks? Ah, there's lots of big trees and a turtle trying to crawl through this big chain link fence.") I begrudgingly stashed my iphone in my now soggy jog bra, wedged the toe of my brand-new and equally soggy running shoe into one of the chain-link holes and hoisted myself to the top. Chain link is not so forgiving to the hands, but fortunately I was so cold that they were mostly numb and tingly. Unfortunately, right at the top, I got a massive charley horse in my hoisting leg. I believe I probably uttered a few more expletives at this point, and then balanced precariously on my butt at the top of the fence while dorsiflexing my foot and trying to make sure there was nothing on my person that would snag the fence when I leapt to the other side, thus causing real injury to what was likely to be an ungraceful descent. I untied the now not only soggy but also muddy (from sliding down an embankment or two) shirt from my waist and tossed it ahead of me (right into a mess of snarly vines, too. Bummer.) Then leapt to the ground - and miraculously managed not to sprain my ankle in the process (and a sprained ankle would be bad because it would be really hard to recover from before Boston). So, after much more traipsing, cursing and hoping like hell I didn't run into any scary people in the woods, I finally made it to an open field, across which I could see the SAME NEIGHBORHOOD I JUST ESCAPED FROM! At this point, I didn't care, I ran directly across, through big puddles of standing water (only up to my ankles, so it's all good), climbed through a couple of trees and downed barbed wire fence and then just kept right on running - past all the open-mouthed residents sitting on their car in the driveway nearby. I was trying for all the world to still look as if this was NOTHING out of the ordinary, and I was not absolutely out of place. Alright, now my mission on this run had completely shifted. Somewhere in the woods I realized I was probably NOT going to make it to the base to meet Brian and the kids. At this point all I wanted to do was find a public place, ANY public place with a telephone. So, I nonchalantly ran along, trying to look like I knew exactly where I was going, while at the same time trying to discern from the lay of the land and the traffic pattern HOW THE HELL I WAS GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE! I finally found my mecca! A strip mall! YAY! I even spotted a pay phone. Fortunately, I'd stashed a 20 in my jog bra before I set off, but unfortunately I now had to find change. I ran straight past the laundromat (it had a scary sign in the door that read CUSTOMERS ONLY, and although I sorely needed a washer and dryer, I didn't think they'd appreciate me stripping down in the middle of the laundromat, especially when all I really wanted was change), then I ran past the "Sword of Fire International Church" and into a Korean Restaurant. As you may expect, being soaked, muddy and covered with scrapes and brambles, I was shooed right back out the door and directed to the "convenience store" down the way. Turns out, this convenience store was actually a Mexican grocery, and every single person in there was shocked to see me (although, I think I may have appeared somewhat shocking at that time to ANYONE). I made a couple of laps around the store looking for a gatorade, then settled on a Mango "Boing!" soda, collected my change, plus "tres dolares en... ah... quarters?" And headed back to the pay phone. I deposited my dollar and called Brian - and left a message. I was careful to emphasize the intersection I was stranded at, and must have sounded a little desperate. After I hung up, I sincerely wished I'd just kept the scrap of paper with Uncle Denny's cell phone number on it rather than being an iphone smarty pants and transferring it into my list of contacts - now unavailable to me in my outta juice phone. I tried directory assistance a couple of times (BUSY?!), contemplated calling Brian's parents and having them call Aunt Cathy. But then I couldn't remember their phone number either, and the thought of calling my parents to explain the situation and then having them call Brian's parents who would in turn call Aunt Cathy just sounded too much like that telephone game we used to play when we were kids (when the first person whispers "camping out is lots of fun" and it winds up being "happiness wears itchy buns" by the time it gets whispered to the end), so I just called Brian again. This time he answered and said "WHERE are you?" Somehow they managed to locate my obscure intersection, and picked me up.

So, all is well that ends well, I suppose, and I really only got a few scrapes, a couple of splinters, a sore calf (from the charley horse) and some mild PTSD from the imaginary alligator. I related my story to the crew in the car, and we had no sooner gotten home than Uncle Denny had called up his daughter in DC to tell the tale. He then gave the phone to me, and Carrie related "You know, I've only been in that river 3 times, and 2 of those time I saw snakes - cottonmouths." Okay, I may be trepidacious regarding alligators, but snakes are a whole other level of fear and loathing. I suddenly had these obtrusive mental images of looking behind me and seeing a sleek, black snake slitheringly swimming towards me as I was chest deep in muddy water. I managed to placate myself with thoughts that it was really too cold and too early for snakes to be out. I mentioned as much while we were eating lunch. Helpful to a fault, Aunt Cathy cheerfully replied, "Oh, no it's not, we've had lots of 80 degree days, that's plenty for snakes to be up and about, shedding their skins and protecting their nests." Umm. Thanks for clearing that up. I later googled "venomous snakes of the Chattahoochee" sure that I'd find I was really never in any danger - only to find that cottonmouths are actually pit vipers, quite deadly and remarkably aggressive and territorial. Yipes.

And I'd only made 11 miles, not the 12 I'd planned. Of course, considering all that running through armpit deep water, scaling muddy riverbanks and 6 foot fences and mental anguish... I'm calling it good. And just in case you don't think I meant it about not chastising me... anyone who does will be heavily fined. All proceeds to go to Fisher House, of course.

Rainy day painting in the Garage

Since Jackson fell asleep, Riley jumped at the chance to do “something messy” (her words, not mine). She had planned on us making footprint/handprint pictures, but I managed to divert her creative energy into actually using paintbrushes and not purposefully painting on ourselves. They turned out pretty well!

Turkey Creek

I may not be able to blame the hectic nature of our weekends on Brian any longer. This weeked he was flying in Keesler, and so I was left all to my own devices. After work, I picked Jax up from preschool and Riley up from school, then had just enough time to get them into the car and drive to the beach for an hour or so to play in the sand before sunset. Then we went out for sushi afterwards. The waitress was a little astonished that I ordered 3 pots of green tea - one for each of us - and even more astonished when Jax polished his tea off all by himself (it’s a little bitter). Then she brought Riley’s sushi out to her, and when she returned with the rest of our dinner, Riley had eaten every bit of raw fish on her plate and was trying to talk Jax out of his order of sushi also. All in all, the kids did very well, and I didn’t even have to run laps around the table to catch Jax. Then on Saturday I had a long run scheduled, and the babysitter showed up at 6am. I was supposed to run 20 miles, but wound up underestimating the loop we ran, and so finished the 20 miles... about 2.5 miles from home. Hence, I ran 22.5 miles. It was a good run, though.

After arriving back at home I piled all the kids in the car to drive the babysitter home, and figured, the kids and I would just head over to the coffee shop after we dropped the babysitter off. I still hadn’t showered after the long run - but no one will be getting that close anyway. Once at the coffee shop, I had everyone settled with muffins and green tea (don’t tell Jackson that green tea it isn’t coffee - he’s determine that I should only order coffee for him). We were just about finished up when Hilary called to say she was heading over for a nature walk on Turkey Creek with the kids. Since it was supposed to rain, and I didn’t relish the thought of spending the entire rest of the day cooped up with the kids, I jumped at the chance. I corralled everyone back into the car and raced home just planning on changing clothes, but then thought better of it and grabbed a quick shower before heading over to Turkey Creek. It’s a lovely walk - about 1.5 miles round trip, all on boardwalk. The kids have a blast looking for knotholes, fish and mud, and run back and forth enough to really wear themselves out. Unfortunately, we were exactly halfway done when the rain started, so everyone got drenched racing the 3/4 mile back to the car (Jax had given up on doing any actual walking by that point, and so I had to run while toting him, the camera and the gear bag - since even a short jaunt with kids seems to require a surprising amount of preparation - and yet I still forgot the umbrella).

I finally made it back home and managed to get everyone (including myself) to fall asleep for a nap.

ABOOBOOSZEER

I’ve recently come up with a new plan for Jax’s potty training.... outright bribery. I found a cache of cheap toy vehicles at one of the local toy shops, and now if Jax is dry when he pees in the potty he gets his choice of one of them.

Last night, he was SO excited to go potty and get ABOOBOOSEER. He exclaimed over and over..
ABOOBOOSZEER, ABOOBOOSEER

As you may imagine, I had no clue what this might be. But I went along with it, and after the requisite fluids were deposited, I allowed him to pick out his toy.

Of course, he immediately chose what he had been asking for all along - the bulldozer.

Never would I have imagined that my 2 year old would know the name of and be excited about a bulldozer. I can’t tell if I’m impressed with his skills of observation at picking up such a vocabulary word or if I’m more than a little deflated in my equal-opportunity parenting. I suspect the latter.

Oh well, if it results in his being potty trained, I suppose it’s all worth it. Right?