The Unplanned Run

This morning, I arrived on campus about 15 minutes later than I would've liked.  When I got to the gym, I found that a wellness class was in full session and every single treadmill was occupied.  Nerds!

I could've hopped on an elliptical for a few minutes and waited out a treadmill since students tend to have short attention spans on there, but I don't really like the elliptical, so instead, I turned on my heal, went out the door and started running.

Just about every aspect of this was undesirable: It was mid-morning so hot as hell, I didn't have my running sunglasses or visor (just regular sunglasses, which sufficed), and I didn't have my Garmin.  Thankfully, I've run near campus enough that I have a few routes that I know well, so I knew a 3 mile loop that would work for the morning's run.

Man alive, it was hot, though.  It was 9:15 when I headed out and the temp hovered just shy of 90 degrees, with humidity in the bazillions.  Un. com. fort. able.  Combine that with this lingering cold, and I felt like I was slogging along.

At the very end of the run, I was actually felt like I was warming in to it, but by then I was done.  I suppose I could've stopped back inside the gym to see if a treadmill had opened up and tried to get a mile or two more in, but I decided to just call it good for the morning.  I think I'll aim to get another few miles in this evening at home, though.

So, it wasn't really the run I'd planned on, but it was the run I got.  I feel like August has thrown me a lot of small running hurdles like this all month; thankfully, I haven't let any of them deter the running streak, but still.  I'm looking forward to a clean slate in September.

On the bright side, I remembered a towel today!

The New Routine Running

Yesterday was the start of what I'm hoping will become part of my weekday routine running: treadmill miles at the campus gym.

My schedule allows me about an hour and a half when I first get to campus to workout and shower before I've scheduled office hours, so yesterday was my first go at this routine.  I've never used the faculty locker room before, but I got the code, and I packed all my shower stuff.

It went well yesterday, but I have come down with a case of the sniffles -- just a minor head cold that is more annoying than anything -- and combine that with the fact that I was running a wee bit later than I'd have liked and I only got 4 miles done.  Which was fine.  I showered, got ready, and had plenty of time to arrive at my office.  The one downside?

There seems to be no hot water in the faculty locker room.  It was a bit like showering in a Russian prison.

Today, then, I arrived at my "goal" time, plus I am feeling a bit better today, so I managed to do a full 6 miles on the treadmill (in 58:50, I might add, which for me, is SUPA fast), then I headed over to the showers, and again, brrrr!

My one error today?  I forgot to pack a towel!  DOH!

I had an extra gym towel, but that's only about the size of a hand towel, and drying myself with that was a bit comical.  It reminded me of the scene in "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles" when Steve Martin's character has to dry himself with a wash cloth after the John Candy character has used up every other available towel:

So, these are the lessons learned so far: Arrive on time, be prepared to take an icy shower, and, this important Jess, remember an effing towel!

Tropical Storm Isaac = Rainy Running

Tropical Storm Isaac first started stirring up storm-hype around here early last week, but it wasn't until Saturday that we actually started to see the beginnings of the actual storm.

 

Saturday morning, I got out for a morning 3 miler and was lucky to time the run before too much rain began.  I barely even got drizzled on, and it was good I got it done in the morning, since I spent Saturday night smashing down my own bedroom door (see below).

 

Sunday, however, the storm was nearing.  For serious.  For those unfamiliar with tropical storms, the rain comes in bands, especially as a storm moves in (and, later, moves out), so there are breaks in the rain -- sometimes 5 minutes, sometimes an hour -- then the downpour resumes. 

 

So, Sunday morning, Norah and Jerry went to run some storm-prep errands (grocery store, Home Depot to get a new bedroom door knob -- again, see below), and I decided to load Caleb up in the BOB and take our chances in what I hoped would be a long-lasting lull.  We made it about 1.2 miles before the deluge began.  Caleb was sleeping by then, and I had the weather shield on hand, so I covered he and the stroller up, and he stayed dry and cozy.

 

I, on the other hand, got drenched.

 

Today, then, was the storm's actual "landfall" (for clarification, Isaac didn't pass directly through here, nor was it the intensity that had originally been predicted), and both the kids and I were home for the day since school for all of us had been cancelled.  Jerry went to work, though.

 

Normally, I wouldn't say that a day stuck inside with two kids could be called a day "off," but we had a good day, and the kids were really good and mainly entertained themselves and each other.  Besides, I have this handy-dandy baby-cage for this dude:

 

And this girl spent a large part of her day working on her art:

See?  Masterpiece:

In the late morning, I did gather the troops for an outing: We had library books to return and Red Box movies to return, so I figured we'd get out and get a few things done.  It was a bit of a hassle getting in and out of the car between sideways sheets of rain, but it was good for us to get out and about some.

This afternoon, the rain cleared up, and even though it remained overcast, the storm had basically passed, so we were all happy to get outside for a bit and survey the landscape.

The water in the canal behind our place was about 3 feet higher than normal, and the sand traps on the golf course were basically beaches:

For some perspective, this is what those sand traps normally look like, and the water line in the above picture is about where Norah is standing below:

And, yeah, Norah does run around outside in princess dresses.  Wouldn't you if you had a kick-ass Rapunzel dress?

So, after dinner, I got in my running clothes and headed outside for a run.  I didn't get rained on, but my 3 miles were more like an obstacle course than anything else: Skirting around and jumping over puddles that were the width and depth of small lakes, and hurdling over fallen branches and other debris.  On the whole, I feel pretty lucky for how I was able to navigate my running through this storm for the past few days.

By tomorrow, we should have clear weather and we all resume our normal routine.  For me, hopefully that also means resuming some higher mileage.  The past week or so has been a bit of a slump in mileage, but I think I've gotten the rest I needed and I'm ready to start re-pursuing those higher digits.

Break and Enter

If you find yourself on a rainy afternoon thinking, "Hmm, I'm kinda bored.  It would be fun to go to Jess' house, have a beer, chat, let the kids play, and order a pizza for dinner," you may want to call my friend Erin, and ask her about our evening tonight, and then you may think again.

 

She came over this evening with her two boys, so our rugrats could run around together and so we could have a drink and catch up.  The evening was the normal amount of madness, until shortly before they were getting ready to leave, and she asked: "Where's Mason?" (Her 1 year old, who had, literally, been RIGHT THERE, 2 seconds before she asked that question.)

 

Turns out, he was in Jerry and I's bedroom, and like a small, blond Houdini, he'd managed to lock himself in there.

 

No one panicked.  I figured I could unscrew the doorknob, it would fall apart, and...viola!  1 year old is free!  Turns out, it was not so easy.

 

Poor Mason was calm at first, but after a few minutes of us NOT opening the door for him, he started to cry, and that triggered the "Mama Bear" in both Erin and I, and we were taking. down. that. door.  Let's just say that I pictured myself with the ninja-like abilities of a youthful, Action-Jeans-selling-Norris:

 

The reality was, of course, way cooler. 

I used a hammer to first force the other side of the doorknob through the hole (and probably bonked Mason on his little noggin) and then used the hammer to literally break the inner-workings of the door lock in half.  And then Erin had to carefully wiggle the remaining lock-bits out of the wall frame, and then...viola!  1 year was old free!

It was very dramatic.  Mason was crying (he had a crappy diaper, so he was mainly pissed that he was sitting in shit on his side of the door), Erin was crying, and I was laughing with relief and residual endorphins.

After they left, I called Jerry (he and Erin's husband, Ryan, were at their fantasy football draft) to tell him (triumphantly!) that we had broken the door knob off the bedroom door in order to rescue a stranded Mason.  His reply: "You know there's a skeleton key for all the doors on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in my bathroom, don't you?"

No, no I did NOT know that.

But, for next time...

To top off my evening, as I was cleaning up the kid detritus after our friends had left and after the kids had gone to bed, I found that Scooter had pulled off the night's coup d'etat: He'd peed all over Jerry and I's bed.

So, no more Mr. Nice Guy Norris, I think I'm gonna go all Cruella DeVil on his ass.

A No-Go on the Mojo

This entire week, the running has felt forced.  Still, Mon-Wed, I managed to run 5 milers each day, but today?  Today, I just am NOT feelin' it...AT ALL.

Still, I got on my running stuff, got all ready, and got out there, figuring that I'd warm in to it, but 1 mile in, and I was ready to pack it in.  So, I turned and headed home for a grand total of 2.06 miles.

I'm declaring it a "rest" day.

Morning Hijinks

Often, it seems that I'm only ever telling stories about Norah's rascality, but as Caleb's personality starts to evolve from sweet, innocent baby into trouble-making toddler, he's been adding some of his own devilry to the household.

Case in point: This morning.

Right now, dressing Caleb is like dressing a wet octopus, so I usually get him changed on the living room floor, that way if he manages to wriggle away from me, he’s not plunging off the top of the changing table.  Often I only manage to get him half-dressed before he maneuvers out of my grasp and runs away from me.  Yes, a month ago, he was just weeble-walking around here, and now he is a person who can ESCAPE and run away from me.

Well, “run” is an overstatement.  Still, it’s surprising how quick he can be if he wants to.

So, this morning, I’m getting him dressed for school and he wriggles away – naked – and gets over to the entryway.

Where he stands and pees on the floor.

It reminded me of one of those naked cherubs* who sometimes appear in water fountains.

*Which, sidenote, those are kinda weird, aren't they?  Does anyone think that's cute?  End sidenote.*

I had to tell him: "Kid, you're no angel and my tile is no water fountain.  Let's holster that little gun of yours."

He resigned to getting dressed, but I saw the glint in his eye: This is just the beginning, isn't it?

1st Day and Lunch Lunacy

The kids' and I's first day back to school went well today.  Norah was completely cool with the change in school and seemed to easily settle in with her new teacher and new friends.  Caleb cried at drop off, but that was expected.  We could hear that he'd stopped crying right after we left his room, and at the end of the day, his teacher said he did well.

I did a little car-crying.  Also expected.  But, it was brief, and soon, I was fine as I sucked down my coffee and listened to NPR in blissful silence.

I also learned a little bit of the successes/weaknesses of what/how we packed the kids' lunches.  I don't know why this is something that confounds me.  Maybe because I grew up eating the crappiest packed lunches in the history of humankind that I want their lunches to be totally rad, but still healthy.

Seriously, when I was a kid, my packed lunches were the WORST.  Reasons for this were aplenty:

1.  My mom hates waste, so I think she thought of our lunches as an opportunity to use up food.  I opened that bag with trepidation: It was like a game of roulette.  I never knew what I'd find in there.  My brother often referred to the sandwiches she concocted as "dinner between bread."  I'm sure she often thought she was being inventive and creative whilst using up what was leftover, but by god, I can't describe how many times those science experiments went right in the trash.  Wasteful.  Sorry, Mom.

2.  My mom is a thrifty person, who thinks packaged, prepared foods are over-priced, but she was also health-conscious before it was cool.  So...you got Lucky Charms when you were growing up?  Awesome.  I didn't.  We didn't get sugary cereals.  They were gonna "rot [our] teeth."  I also didn't get a single Hostess product in my lunch when I was growing up, and I can tell you this: It's a hard sell to try and trade your goddamn apple for Twinkies.

3.  Lastly, our packed lunches were train wrecks because my mom had some kind of grudge against actual sandwich baggies.  Don't ask me why.  Baggies were probably socialist or something, I don't know.  What I do know, is that she used Saran Wrap for virtually any kind of preservation.  Guess what?  Saran Wrap doesn't work for shit to keep loose chips grouped together or to keep unruly grapes from breaking free and disseminating all over your brown bag and ultimately getting squished and oozing their squishedness onto other disorderly, free-rolling lunch companions. 

So, most days, I loathed the lunch my mom packed me, and I loved the days I got hot lunch, or later in high school, when she just handed me some money to get lunch as I pleased.

Thus, my feelings now.  I want my kids' lunches to be healthy (no Twinkies for them either) but I also want them to like what they're eating, or if nothing else, not dread it.

Any hints or advice?  Little helpful tidbits for packing the right balance of healthy food they'll actually consume that won't take me half the night before to prepare and package?  (Unlike my mother, I appreciate companies that do some of the legwork for me and I'm totally willing to overpay for convenience.)

What did you get in your lunches as a kid?  Was yours awesome?  Or, did it suck like mine?

Back to School

Tomorrow is the start of the school year here.  Back to work for me and the kids will be not only changing their school schedule, but they'll also be changing schools.

The daycare/preschool we've attended since Norah was 10 weeks old is closing.  We got notification of its closure last spring, and it was emotional news for us, and it wasn't easy scouting out new places and finding a center that best suited all of our expected needs.  In the end, we found one that we feel is the best fit for our family, but really, it's hard to entirely know until we get into the groove of having the kids attend.

For those who know us, or who have been reading for awhile, you know that even though I'm a full time professor, I've managed for the past 3 years to work out a teaching schedule that has allowed me to stay at home every day for half the day during the academic year.  I've appreciated this schedule in many ways, but it hasn't been without its difficulties too: In order to be home half the day, I've had to to teach 2 night classes each term (I actually enjoy night class students -- they tend to be a more mature group -- but those teaching days tend to be exhausting); plus, there have been other small hurdles.  For example, when I've been sick or when I've had meetings, we have either had to pay the drop in rate at school ($20 an hour for the 2 kids) or Jerry has had to take time off to be at home when I can't be.

So, for several reasons -- the new school's available scheduling, a need for me to keep a more "regular" work schedule, and the idea that both kids may benefit from a fuller day at school (Norah, especially, is at an age where she can get more out of the curriculum if she's there all day) -- the kids will be attending school full time and I'll be working more normal Mon-Fri hours.  Although, that being said, because I have the sweetest gig out there, my full-time-normal-hours are still just 6 hours a day, so I'll be dropping the kids off between 8:30-9 and picking them up around 3:30. 

By many working moms' standards, that's hardly a "full" day's schedule, so I know I am still extremely fortunate to have the kind of full-time career that I do that also allows me so much time at home.

Anyhoo, what I'm circling around to, is that tomorrow is a new start for me and for the kids.  New school for them, new schedule for all of us.  And even though I think it will be best for all of us, I am feeling the typical mom-separation-anxiety-emotions about this new start.

I imagine the first week or two will be a bit of an adjustment -- on the practical end and on the emotional end.  Practically, I am gonna have to get us all out the door around 8:15-8:30, which is a change for us who've been used to lolly-gagging all morning long.  Plus, the new school doesn't provide lunch, so I'll be making lunches each day too.  Blergh.  Emotionally, Caleb will cry each day, for sure; Norah will likely be cool with everything for a week or so and then have a complete meltdown once she realizes this new school is for good; and I will most likely cry in my car after dropping them off for the first week or so -- but then we'll all get settled and I think the year will go smoothly.

So that's what's on my mind today.

One bright, shiny thing to look forward to, however, is that with my new schedule and more time each day on campus, I have more time to run.  Granted, that'll mostly be treadmill running, but hey, running is running!  And, I need the running.  This week, I'm gonna top out at less than 30 miles for the week, and I can tell that my brain has gone soft on me: I've been making all kinds of emotionally charged decisions the past few days that have been questionable.  If I were running more this week, I might've just run past those thoughts; instead, I went ahead and expressed them.

Definitely need more running.

Keepin' the Streak Alive

Tuesday night, I went to bed feeling fine, but around 4 am Wednesday morning, I woke feeling nauseous.  I spent the next few hours in the bathroom -- it was both pukey and poopy.  Thankfully, Jerry was able to take the morning off work to be with the kids while I loaded up on Immodium and Advil and got some extra sleep.

Around 10 am, I declared that I felt "good enough" and he could go to work.  He promised to be home early, and what followed were, quite possibly, the longest 6 hours of my life.

I tried my best to muster what little energy I had for the kids, but mostly I just laid around and let them bounce on my head.  Nap time helped, but it was still a challenging day.

But, all day long the one question that kept circling through my brain was: To run or not to run?

At times, I felt okay and I figured I could do it.  1 mile, that's all I had to do to keep the streak, and as I said, at times, I felt like I would be able to do that.  Other times, when I lay splayed out on the floor while the kids ran around me like wild banshees, I thought: No way, it's not gonna happen; I'll barf my guts out and die.

Eventually, I ate a little something for dinner and that helped.  Then, Caleb went to bed and I had my decision to make -- run or not.

I ran.

I eeked out just a wee bit more than the bare minimum: 1.15 miles and it took me 12:24 to do so.  But I did it, and I didn't barf and I didn't die.

Streak: Still on!

Afterwards, I showered and then promptly went to bed.  It was 7 pm.

This morning, after nearly 12 solid hours of sleep, I feel fine.  Whatever I had seems to have run its course, and today is my last day "off."  So, first thing, I got out for my run.  I was tempted to try and go long to make up for some of yesterday's "lost" miles, but in the end, I decided it was probably wise to just keep it short.  I barely ate anything yesterday, and the after-effects of being sick always leaves me somewhat fatigued; probably best not to push myself too much.

So I did a 3 miler -- slow and easy -- and I have simply resigned myself to the fact that this week's mileage is not going to be what I had hoped it would: Even after Tuesday's epic mileage.

That's okay.  Sick happens, and for me, it seems to happen all too often -- I seem to pick up stomach bugs every few months.  I guess my immune system is less like Chuck Norris and more like Urkel. 

Triple Tuesday

I've never pulled off 3 runs in one day before, but today, I did.  Here's the RUN down:

Run #1: 5 miles
Today was another of my blessed days off -- no work, no kids -- so after bidding "adieux" to the kidlets, I dillied and dallied some and then finally got out the door for my run.  It was 8 am, and steamy as all hell.

Unfortunately, my 5 mile route has very little shade this time of day, and I was a hot mess when I got done.  I swear, every drop of sweat I had in body was sweated out on this one!

Run #2: 4.4 miles
After I had gotten my day's tasks done (house cleaning and errands, which sounds sucky for a day off, but actually, without the kiddos around, it's something I look forward to), it was 2 pm, and I figured, hey, why not run?

I felt great, but at mile 3, the weather had another plan for me.  At first, it just started to sprinkle, but then it started to drizzle -- which, in case you're wondering, the technical difference between a sprinkle and a drizzle is the volume of rain: a sprinkle is a drop here and there, a drizzle is a steady, light rain, you're welcome: continue on -- I figured, "Eh, what's a little rain?  I'm already sweaty."

But, then I saw a flash of lightning and heard a crack of nearby thunder that made my heart leap into the back of my throat and hug my tongue for comfort. 

I ran as fast as my little legs could go for that last mile, but I was already sloshing through ankle deep puddles (that's how tropical rain works: one minute it's a drizzle, the next it's a downpour) so the going was slower than I would've liked considering the lightning.

I don't mess around with lightning.

Run #3: 3.7 miles
I was a little disappointed that my afternoon run had been cut short by rain, so after dinner and after Caleb was in bed, I went back out for one, last round.  I figured I'd round off the day by running 3.6, but a slight route miscalculation had me run 3.7, which is actually perfect, because you know what that brought the day's total mileage to?

13.1!

That's right.  A half marathon on a Tuesday.  Not too shabby.

Norah's Birthday Party

Today was THE hotly anticipated day of the summer -- for Norah, that is -- her birthday party!

We had it at a local pool, which has a splash area with slides and sprays, so in short: Loads of sun and water fun.

Here's Norah and Caleb:

Norah was joined by lots of her friends (for a "Princess Pool Party," she had a lot of boys in attendance: 8 boys to the 3 girls), and she had an absolute blast swimming, running, sliding, and splashing with all of her friends.

Her favorite moment, though, was the cake and everyone singing "Happy Birthday" to her.  Here's her cake:

And blowing out the candle, with Miller in the background, clearly impressed by her candle-blowing-skillz:

She enjoyed her cake, and like always, mainly just ate frosting:

It was a great time, and Norah is a lucky girl to have such wonderful, generous friends: Thanks everybody!

When we got home, it was nap time, and everyone in this house crashed -- and the weather timed itself nicely since we had some serious thunderstorms during the afternoon: Excellent napping weather!  After nap, we played with all of her gifts, which was a little overwhelming, had dinner, and then the day was pretty much done.

It wore us all out. 

Here's Caleb in bed:

It's not a great pic (his line up of nooks look nice, don't they?), but to do any better, I might've woken him, and lord knows that's the cardinal sin of parenting, but with his legs hanging out the slats of his crib, arms flapped open to the side -- it gives an image to the exhaustion I think we all feel after such a busy, fun-filled day.

And, even though I'm not yet passed out spread-eagle-style ala Caleb, I definitely feel as though I should be: Thus, I chose to cut my run short this evening.  3 miles instead of 6.  So, I only totaled 42 miles for my week instead of 45.  I'm not too upset about it.  Hosting a 3 year old's birthday party felt like I ran a marathon, so the fact that I did 3 miles is SOMEthing!

Norah's 3rd Birthday

Today, we started Norah's birthday off with a visit to the doctor for her 3 year old check up.  She impressed us all by being really good: No crying, no fussing, no squirming, no whining, nuthin but goodness.  It was a moment to make a parent proud.  If only all our parenting moments could be like that!

After the dr. appointment, we went to the park for some water and playground fun.  Norah ran around like a crazy person:

And, she was super happy to have her dad take the day off so he could assist on all the play equipment mom is too short for.  But, seriously, that is for kids like twice (or 3X) her age.  This girl know NO fear.

After the park, we had lunch and then we all took a nice long nap -- birthday gift for Mom and Dad! -- and after nap, it was present time!  She got some good loot!

We played with her birthday gifts for the rest fo the afternoon/early evening and then it was dinner time.  Her request: What else?  Mussels!

Caleb gave 'em a go too and they were Caleb-approved: He loved them!  We have the weirdest kids.

After dinner, we had the birthday cupcakes, and the moment Norah had truly been waiting for: The singing of "Happy Birthday" and her chance to blow out a candle.

Caleb loved those too (and, goodness, I hate how the flash makes that ball of light off the wall!  maybe if I knew more about how my camera works, I could fix that...hmmmm...that would take time, wouldn't it?) as is demonstrated by his frosting goatee:

And, here's the birthday girl enjoy hers:  Frosting only, please!

It was a fun family birthday, but what Norah is REALLY excited for is her birthday party on Sunday (it's a bit confusing for kids her age to have her b-day one day and the party another).  She's having a pool party with all of her friends, and it's shaping up to be EPIC! 

For now, she crashed out in true birthday style: She told us in her best whiny 3 year old voice that she was NOT tired!  Then, she was asleep about 5 minutes later.

As for me, I ran 6 miles tonight fully fueld by the frosting on those cupcakes...wowza...that's a lot of sugar to process!  I'm pretty sure that by eating just one, I narrowly avoided diabetes.

Happy Birthday Norah!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Norah!  My wish for you is that you always have the same charm, energy, self-confidence, curiosity, intelligence, bravery, sweetness, generosity, and beauty of your 3 year old self!

Love,

Mom, Dad, Caleb, and Scooter

7 Miler, aka "Sweatfest 2012"

Today, I am enjoying a rare opportunity: The kids are at school and I am not!  Glorious.  Simply glorious.

So, I wanted to get the day started on the right foot -- pun, totally intended -- by getting my day's run done.  Going in to it, I wasn't feeling it.  I don't know if it's the season (so dang hot out!), the streak (day #40 today), my current efforts with building mileage, or hormones, or a combo thereof, but I just felt like I was dragging myself out there.

I bargained with myself that instead of doing the 7 I'd planned, I could just do 3-4 and make today a "rest" day, but I had to get out and do something.  Thankfully, as is almost always the case, even when I'm tired, a mile or 2 into the run, I felt good and I knew I could go forth and do the full 7 I had planned.

But, lordy, it wasn't without effort.  It was so frickin' hot out there and SO effing humid that I just slogged through the run.  Or, swam.  Whatev.  There was no breeze and the air was THICK. 

I took it uber-slow and just ran through that sauna for 7 miles.

When I got home, I was absolutely soaked in sweat.  SOAKED.  Sports bra?  Soaked.  Shorts?  Dripping.  Socks and shoes?  Squishing.

Shark farts!  It. was. gross.

However, the great part of this story returns to what I started with: No kids at home!  So after a cool shower, I turned on the fan in the bedroom and laid down for 30 minutes -- relishing the cool and the quiet of being able to relax and recover from a run in this way.

Now, I'm off for the day's true reward: A day-date with Jerry!  We have some errands to run, and then we're going out to lunch and then we're going to see "Batman"! 

Kidisms

These rascals are always up to something.  Here's a random recap of recent kid-happenings:

Norah has been loving the crafting lately.  Principally, she is infatuated with gluing stuff and cutting stuff:

So, it was only a matter of time before she took her safety scissors and gave Caleb a little haircut.

Thankfully, his hair is so fine, it's unnoticeable.   Next up, I'm sure he'll get glued to the floor.

Speaking of Caleb, he's at THAT age wherein everything that's not a toy is a toy:

He's opening everything he can, dumping out anything he can, throwing things that are NOT trash into the trash, and taking what IS trash out of the trash.  Plus, he's climbing.  It's a joy.

Back to his sister: Norah's birthday is on Friday, and it's something she's been talking about for...oh...about 6 months now.  The other day in the car, Jerry asked her: "How old are you gonna be on your birthday?" 

She replied, correctly, with: "3!" 

And he followed up with, "3 and sassy, right?" 

Her: "NO!  I am NOT sassy!" 

No, no, of course not.

This morning, Caleb was biting the chair in the living room (also part of the joys of his age: the intro to hitting and biting).  I told him to stop biting the chair.  Norah piped up with: "No, Caleb, we don't bite chairs.  We only bite food."  Then, she paused and continued with: "And, sometimes each other."

Yesterday afternoon, Norah was putting some change in her piggy bank, with Caleb assisting.  Jerry and I were in the other room, and we heard a CRASH!  Piggy pieces everywhere; coins scattered.  Norah was near tears. 

Caleb was just trying to gobble up as much change as he could.  I assume he'll poop those pennies out sometime this afternoon...

And, speaking of money.  On Monday, I was in the kitchen and he comes toddling in holding a $1.  Assuming he'd been riffling through my purse, I take the $1 from him and go find what I was sure was going to be a disassembled purse.  But, surprisingly, my purse was intact.  Huh.  I had no clue where he'd gotten that money from, but I shrugged, put the $1 in my wallet and went back to making dinner.  A bit later, he comes in the kitchen again; this time, he's got a $1 in each fist!

WTF?  Did he find a secret money stash?  And, if so, are there $20s in there?

Turns out, he'd found some loot stowed in one of Norah's purses.  Where she'd squirreled that money from, I have no idea.  But I can tell you this: I am now $5 richer!

Lastly, and perhaps most hilarious:  Over the weekend, one day, Jerry farted.  (Not that that's news: Our house suffers from serious air pollution because of his foul ass.)  But, this was a serious fart -- a loud, rumbly one -- and Norah (who thinks farts are pretty much the funniest thing in existence, which, c'mon, they ARE funny) laughs and says:

"Whoa, Daddy!  We're gonna have to check your underwear!"

Running is Fun

Some of you may have already seen this pic floating about the interweb, but it's something I'm reminded of almost everyday. 

By this kid in particular:

But this one sees the fun his sister is having running around, and he looks pretty stoked to get his own little legs moving at those speeds:

I don't know why we lose that joy as we get older (if only that kid juice could be squeezed out of them and made into an energy drink, right?), but when I look at these two, I'm reminded how lucky I am to get the chance each day to reap the same joy.

6 miles today: The 45 mile week is off to its solid start!

And 4 Makes 40

Because I ran 6 days of 6 milers, all I had to do today was a 4 miler, and good thing too because I wasn't feeling much like running.

Sundays are always a struggle for me to want to run.  For some reason, I often want to skip Sunday and just do nuthin'.  But, that's the lovely thing about a streak: There is no rest.  And, for me, that's part of the appeal of streaking -- once I get into the groove of it, I don't want to stop.

Anyway, I got my 4 miler done: It wasn't the best run of the week, but halfway through, I started to enjoy it, and as always, when I finished, I felt good.

So, 40 miles are in the books for the week.

Now, on to this week's mileage challenge: 45 miles!

A Tale of Two Runs

Part 1
Normally, on Saturday mornings, Jerry takes the kids to the grocery store and I run.  But, last week, things didn't go all that well and Jerry declared that he was done taking both of them (or, at least, he needs a break from bringing both) and he said he was gonna alternate one and the other.  This is fine. 

So, this morning, we'd decided that Norah was going to go with Jerry to the store, and Caleb was going to join me for a short run.  Everyone was fine with this arrangement until we were all heading out the door and it fully dawned on Norah that Caleb was coming with me.

She threw a fit.  Screaming and crying that she didn't want to go to the store; she wanted to go with me.  After initially trying to reason with her, I said that we could trade (Caleb didn't care one way or another) and she could come ride with me on the run and Caleb would go with Daddy.  She was cool with this until, again, it fully dawned on her that she'd be going with me, but Caleb would get to be going with Daddy.

The grass is always greener, right?

At this point, they were already driving away and she was strapped into the BOB, and holy lord, it was Hurricane Norah 2012.  She was screaming and flailing and bucking in the stroller like a mad person.

And, I totally lost my cool with her.  Let's just say there was some screaming on my part as well.  I'm not proud of myself for dissolving into the same level of hysterics as a 3 year old.  But, I did.

For about mile then, I ran and she cried.  I passed some strangers who most assuredly wondered what kind of cruel mother I was for forcing my child into a stroller and keeping her prisoner there, but too bad, I didn't care.  I was fuming -- at her -- but mostly with myself.

Nothing makes you feel like a bigger failure at life than a major parenting fail, and I was frustrated and angry with how I had reacted to her tantrum.  I could see, in retrospect, exactly where the entire chain of events should've been rewound and done differently, but alas, in parenting, as in life, there is no rewind.

After a mile, she stopped crying and after a few pleading requests for me to take her to the store "to see Daddy," she piped down altogether and I ran and she rode in silence.  I think it was good we were running: It gave us both a chance to cool off and recollect ourselves.

And, at the end of the 3 miler, as a peace offering, I let her out of the stroller so she could run the last .2 of the run.  We went at a 15 min/mile pace, but I didn't care.  In those few minutes of the run, we'd made up.

Part 2
This evening, after Caleb had gone to bed and Norah was settling in with Jerry for her evening TV time, I got to get back out for a solo run.  It was a quiet, uneventful 3 miles, and I was thankful for such peace and solitude.

Liquid Evil

After class today (last day of summer term -- woohoo!), I ran my 6 miles on the treadmill (boring but I did it -- woohoo!), and after that, I stopped at Target to pick up a few essentials. 

Did angels start singing softly in the background when you read the word "Target"? 

Yeah, me too. 

Target is pretty much my favorite place in the world, especially when I have the freedom to stop in there by myself.

So, I was stoked about my errand, and having just run 6 miles, I was also a bit parched.  Lately, post-run I have been craving lemonade.  I think it's the sugar.  So, there's a Starbucks in MY Target, and I saw this drink on their board and thought it looked like the perfect post-run-afternoon-shopping-sipping beverage.

Looks delightful, right?  It's their "Cool Lime Refresher."  So, I ordered myself a "tall" and then set about my task of spending Caleb and Norah's college tuition on endcaps.

Well, one taste of that "refresher," and I nearly spit it out.  It tasted like crushed dreams. 
With ice and a lime wedge.
I paused, examined the vile drink -- looking for its source of evil -- and then thought perhaps my taste buds were being rash.  There have been plenty of beverages I didn't like at first that now rank among my favorites (coffee, beer), so I gave it another try.  And, another try, and an effing other try. 

No matter how many sips I took, this devil juice did NOT grow on me.  If anything, my initial reaction only intensified.

It tasted like a non-alcoholic version of a Mojito.  And, I know I live in South Florida so it's blasphemy to say this, but I H-A-T-E Mojitos (plural of that?  I don't know if I add the "es" or just an "s"? spellcheck's not being helpful.  at all).  Probably because I abhor mint, and this foul elixir most certainly contained mint (maybe I should have asked about the flavor before ordering it?  that would've been logical).

Anyway, I drank that god awful thing because it cost $3.  $3!  For a 12 oz (really, after ice, it was probably 8 oz of liquid) cup of skunk juice. 

On the way home, this got to me: $3!  I could get a half gallon of delightful lemonade from Publix for less than that and be totally happy!  By the time I was home, I was angry at Starbucks for selling me such a wicked drink.

So, I emailed them and told them so. 

I don't expect anything from Starbucks -- a reply might be nice -- but it felt good typing those 2,050 "characters" to tell them how this drink prompted my entire mouth to nearly host a stomach revolution.

A Walking Dude and Monthly Mileage

So, I've mentioned Caleb took his first steps a few weeks ago, and I briefly referred to him as walking in yesterday's post, but since it's pretty big time DUDE stuff, I figured I should devote a moment to noting his progress:

He's wobbly, for sure, and still crawling the majority of the time (that's the locomotion he knows; right now, walking is just a novelty), but he's making big "strides."  In another few weeks, I bet he's proficient, and he'll be toddling all over the place.  Lord save me.

So, while he spent July perfecting the art of this new business we keep getting all excited about, I spent the month streaking.  31 days of running.  132 total miles.  My highest monthly mileage so far this year.  I plan to continue on with the streak for awhile now; although, I don't have a definitive plan for it.  Right now, I'm just streakin' till I can't streak no more!

And, of course, I'm working toward that 50 mile week I have planned.  This week, 40 miles are the goal, and so far I'm track with two 6 milers in the books on Monday and Tuesday (one was entirely on the treadmill -- I think I deserve gold stars for having the mental fortitude to endure that hour's tedium), and I plan to execute today's 6 miler this evening.  So far, so good!

Poop

Got your attention didn't I?

No, not my poop: Norah's poop.

In the past few weeks, she's gone from warily regarding the toilet as a suspect place to poop to being an enthusiastic toilet-pooper.  So much so, that she wants to poop at any opportunity she can seize.  Maybe our incentives have been too grandiose, I don't know, but either way, she now regards pooping in the potty as the pinnacle of her daily achievements (really, don't we all?), so we've essentially created a monster here: She wants to sit on the pot and poop even when she doesn't have to poop.

Yesterday, following her dad's shining example, she requested that she have access to the iPad for potty-tainment.  My mistake was allowing her to sit there too long (in my defence, it's a fine line between her truly having to poop and her using poop as an excuse to play on the iPad, or post-pone bedtime, or naptime, or dinner...), and when she got up, her legs had fallen asleep.

There was a lot of crying over that. 

Parenting FAIL.

And, the poop-in-the-potty obsession has even extended to her babies, stuffed animals, princesses, etc.  Can they poop in the potty?  Yes?  Then that's what they should be doing!  Yesterday afternoon, I witnessed the most hilarious play-scenario unfold:

Big Baby (Norah's oldest, ugliest looking baby) was getting her diaper changed by Norah, and she'd pooped.  Norah sternly told her: "Big Baby, next time you have to poop, you have to tell me so you can go on the potty!"  A few seconds later, "What?  You have to poop some more, Big Baby?  Let's go to the potty!"

Big Baby was rushed into the bathroom to sit on the training toilet, where she had complete poop success!

I walk in, and Norah has Big Baby bent over in Down Dog to wipe Big Baby's butt (this is how teachers at school instruct the kids to "assume the position" and, honestly, I hadn't thought of it before, but once Norah starting doing it at home, I realized how handy it is for wiping somebody else's ass!).  Caleb had toddled in behind me (that dude is walking, yo!), and Norah took the chance to properly instruct Caleb about poop in the potty.

"See, Caleb, Big Baby pooped!  You wanna sniff it?  Here, smell!"

"Smells like poop, huh?  It's brown poop!"

Caleb leans in over the fictional brown poop and appreciates this tutorial.

"Don't eat it," Norah advises, "we just sniff poop, we don't eat it."

Right, Caleb, if there's anything from childhood that should remain an important lesson, it's that which your big sister has imparted: Poop is for smelling, not for eating.

A Movie and Some Miles

This afternoon, Norah and I got in the car at 3:30 pm, and the car read 102 degrees.  I don't always trust the accuracy of a car's temp reading, but either way, it was HOT out.

We went to join some friends at the cheap theater to see "Brave."  Personally, I really liked it, and Norah did too (although, I think 90% of the story went right over her head), and it was the first movie theater movie that she sat* through in its entirety!  When we got out of the theater, and back in the car at about 5:50, the car then read 92 degrees -- cooler, but still brutal.

An hour later, I was lacing up my running shoes and heading back out there to get my day's 5 miler done.  I'm sure it was a few degrees cooler then, but not by much, and I didn't bother to check.  It was a warm one, but because I had waited until 7 pm, the sun was setting, and it was surprisingly not an awful run, especially considering that for dinner I'd basically eaten popcorn and Gummi savers -- not exactly ideal running fuel.  I did my share of sweating, and when I got home, Jerry declared: "Ugh!  Look at that boob sweat!" referring to my saturated sports bra.  Yummers.

So, that polished off my 35 mile week: Complete success!  Next up?  Bring on the 40 mile week this week!  Which means I have to average 5.7 miles a day.  I think I may just round up to 6 miles most days.

*"Sitting" is a relative term here.  I should just say that she saw the whole movie.  She was up and down in her seat plenty of times, and sat in my lap during a couple of the scary bear scenes, and we had to make one trip to the bathroom.  Still, I got to see the whole movie, and that was a delight!

Well, That's One Way to Get it Done

This summer, I've been using the treadmill at the campus gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays after my classes.  But, lately, I have just not been feelin' the 'mill.  And today, when I got done with class at 2 pm, I thought, "Hmmm, it's not that hot out is it?"  So, I decided to skip the treadmill in favor of heading home and doing my run at home.  Turns out, though, it was that hot out.

I figured I'd just stay close to home and cut the run short if I felt like I was gonna burst into flames.  Sure enough, after 3 miles, I was running back home to seek the comfort of the A/C. 

Back inside and just look at that sweat glisten!  Yeah, I'm bringing sexy back...

I gave myself about 10 minutes to cool off and de-sweatify.  I drank a glass of water (I'd also drunk about 16 oz pre-run and about 6 oz during those 3 miles, so I needed a potty break too) and then I decided I couldn't let the day pass without getting all of my intended miles done.

So, I got my visor and sunglasses back on, refilled my water so it was cold, and prepped to head back out into Hades.

2 miles later, I was back at home and glad to be done with that!  Even my sunglasses seem to be wilting!

I had purposely not checked the weather before heading out for either run because I knew it would probably deter me, or at least make me second guess my dubious choice, but afterward, I checked and discovered that the temp was 97 degrees.  Uff-da!

Normally, I would never run an afternoon 5 miler in this heat, but I'm pleased I got it done and didn't let myself stop at that initial 3 miler.  And, afterward, a cool shower and tall glass of iced lemonade never felt nor tasted SO good!

Mileage

So, aside from streaking, I have a secondary goal I'm working toward: Mileage, baby, mileage.

Let me back up a little.  For me, a comfortable running week usually means 20-25 miles.  I generally consider 20 to be my "minimum" weekly mileage (although, I've definitely had weeks with FAR fewer miles than that ideal), and have happily trained for many races running no more than 25-30 miles a week.  And for the longest time, I thought that anything more than that was pure madness.

But, slowly, over the past year or so, my opinion has slowly changed. 

My principle influence?  Shelly.  She's been streaking for more than 2 years (801 days to be exact, but who's counting?  oh wait, she is!), AND she logs an average of 80 miles a week, AND she's a mother of 3, who -- up until just recently -- also worked full time.  And not only does she log those miles and do the same things the rest of us do, but she also does all this with THE most infectiously joyful attitude.

So, for the past 6 months or so, I've been using her as my "attitude idol" in terms of running, and I've secretly been internalizing her motto: "Running fills a place inside me that essential, not optional."  But, this month, I decided I was ready to proceed to the next level of modeling my running after hers: Time to streak, and time to pack in the miles.  Miles for miles' sake.

I have no races on the immediate horizon, so I am not training for anything.  Why not see how I can challenge myself in terms of volume?

For the past few weeks, I've been establishing a solid base by averaging 27-30 miles a week.  This week, then, is my intended "step up" week in which I'm shooting for 35 miles.  That means I have to average at least 5 miles a day.  Totally doable.  And, so far this week, I'm on track. 

So, where's this going? 

My intention is to build up to a 50 mile week.  I've never run such a week in my 7+ years of running.  Following my current plan of attack, I should reach that goal in mid-August.  From there?  I don't know.  We'll have to see.

Plagues

On this evening's 5 miler, I experienced 4 of running's plagues:

Plague #1: Heat

It's July and it's hot everywhere, some places it's been much hotter than here, so I can't complain too much.  But still, heat is no friend for a runner, especially when combined with humidity.  Every run in the summer means that I return home with clothes completely saturated in sweat.  This evening was no different.

Plague #2: Insects

These damn small, black bugs crop up every summer.  I think they're gnats, but I'm no entomologist, so I'm not certain.  What I am certain of is that running through clouds of these small bastards = running hell.  They fly in my eyes, my nose, my mouth, and wiping them away just feels like I'm smearing their tiny carcases around my face, neck, and chest.  Combine the insects with the heat (and thus the sweat) and I am coated in disgusting layers of perspiration and pests.

Plague #3: Chafing

I blame Amazon for this. 

Let me explain.  Earlier this summer, Jerry got himself a Kindle Fire, and we got introduced to the sweet nectar of Amazon Prime's free 2 day shipping.  I ordered the bejesus out of Amazon because I fell head over heals for the 2 day shipping.  Since then, we allowed the Prime trial to expire and buh-bye free 2 day shipping!  But my Amazon reliance remained.  So, lately, I've become accustomed to being a very lazy shopper, rather than taking the time to go to a nearby store to shop, I hop on Amazon and order just about anything we need.  Well, earlier today, I had both a Nathan handheld water bottle and some Body Glide in my Amazon cart.  But before checking out, I realized I would be paying nearly $6 in shipping for a $6 stick of Body Glide (and almost equally horrifying: $6 in shipping for a clearanced Nathan handheld that was only $14).  Ummm?  No.  I can swing by my local running store and get $0 in shipping.  So, I canceled my cart.

Thus, karma.  Or, I will just go ahead and directly blame Amazon for putting bad juju out in the universe for cancelling my Body Glide order:  I had THE worst thigh chafing, which is the worst kind of chafing because it hurts the body and the ego (no girl likes a reminder that her thighs are rubbing together uncomfortably).

Plague #4: Rain

Actually, with the heat and the bugs, this was almost a welcome relief.  Still, the extra moisture didn't help the above mentioned chafing, so: PLAGUE!

I don't think these plagues are predicting the end of the world, but man alive, after a string of runs that I feel like I've struggled through, I feel as thought he running gods owe me a gimme.

Rude Awakening

This afternoon, when both kids were down for their naps, Jerry and I crawled into bed to take our own nap.  I was exhausted and, within minutes, was almost fully asleep.  But, then I heard Norah's bedroom door open and I could hear her softly padding across our bedroom floor to my side of the bed.

I opened my eyes, and she was standing directly in front of me, her index finger inches from my face; on the end, there was something I couldn't decipher, both because it was too close to my eyes to focus clearly and because my near-nap brain wasn't fully functioning.  Dear god, I moaned inwardly, please don't let that be what I think it is.

"I pooped in my underwear," she announced.

Yup, it was exactly what I had suspected.

Let's just fast forward here and say that I threw some underwear away.  It may sound wasteful to do so, but there are some messes that aren't worth the dry heaving, and a shitty pair of Ariel and Flounder panties are among them.

Besides, she won't even know they're missing: This girl has about 30+ pairs of panties, and about 10 of those feature Ariel.  I think she's good.

But to get to my point: this potty training business is a be-atch.

Just when we think she's on the verge of "getting" it, I get a poop finger in the face.

Anyhooooooo, today was day #22 of my running streak: Guess it's habit now, right?  Maybe if I can make daily running a habit, there's hope that Norah will eventually make potty training a habit.  Right?!

Rookie Mistake

This evening I set out on a 6 miler and did the stupidest thing I've done...this week.  I didn't bring water.

Doh!

At the 3 mile point, I was hot and thirsty.  It's July, for God's sake, I should know better, but I figured I could suck it up for 3 more miles.

At 4 miles, I was REALLY effing thirsty and was starting to think about alternatives to "sucking it up" and sweating to death.  I knew that at my 5 mile point, I had 3 potential options: A McDonald's, a Publix, and a 7-11.  Everyone knows that drinking fountains went the way of saber-toothed tigers and pay phones, so I wasn't expecting to find one of those; I was just hoping at one of those 3 stops, someone might take pity on a hot, sweaty runner and hand me a friggin drink of water.

My first, and closest, option was Mickey D's.  I ran in there and, with a thick tongue, asked the girl behind the counter if I could get a cup of water.  Honestly, I wasn't sure if McDonald's would A.) hand me a cup to go fill in the toilet myself (an option I was willing to take), B.) attempt to charge me, or C.) they'd just be plan ole sweet and hand me an iced water.

Thankfully, it turned out they kindly did option C.  Oh, water, glorious water! 
(BTW, did you ever read the book "The Search for Delicious" when you were a kid?  In it, the main character is tasked with defining the word "delicious" for a fictional king's dictionary; in the end, they define "delicious" as water.  This evening, I couldn't have agreed more!)

Say what you will about the Evil Empire of McDonald's, with that cold cup of (free) water, they earned my eternal gratitude.  I will worship at the base of the golden arches for the rest of my days because of such a gift.

So, I made it the last mile home and vowed, as I have many times before when I've made such a mistake, that I'll never leave home without water again!

Sleeping Babes

It is pertinent that, as a parent, I peek in on the kids while they're sleeping. 

You might assume that's for practical purposes: To check on them and make sure they're breathing or to make sure they haven't entangled themselves in bedding or haven't caught on fire (parenthetical aside: why do all these PJs have that declaration on the inside that says, "Wear snug fitting.  Not flame resistant."?!  Do many kids spontaneously burst into flames while sleeping?  This has long been a plaguing parenting question of mine).

Or, you might assume it's for sentimental reasons, like to give them a gentle mom-kiss goodnight while they slumber silently.

And those are good assumptions, and true to a point, but my principle reason for the nightly peek-in, is to remind myself of how cute they are and how much I love them. 

Because when they're awake, and one is standing on top of the kitchen counter trying to reach forbidden candy and the other is biting the dog, it's kinda hard to remember why I steered life down this road of madness.

But, when I peek-in, I suddenly have sleeping-child-induced-amnesia: What entire roll of toilet paper that got unspooled and flushed this morning thus causing the toilet to overflow and turn the master bathroom into Lake Superior?  Pfffftttt, no biggie!  Look at those itty-bitty toes! 

All sleeping children melt a heart: I bet even terrorists sigh and say, "Awwww!  Wook at the cutie-wootie!" at the sight of such sleeping babes.  It is an evolutionary advantage I'm sure.  If we didn't all do the peek-in and see sights such as this at nap time or at the end of the day --

-- there'd probably be a lot more kids left to be raised by wolves.

Ignition and a Lack Thereof

Today is my SIL's birthday, so we set the Barbie cake alight and crossed our fingers that she wouldn't go up in flames.

With fire extinguisher nearby, we were relieved that we didn't transform an innocent birthday celebration into a Barbie BBQ, and afterward, Norah was relieved to finally pry her Barbie free from her fondant prison.

The cake, however, was a metaphor for beauty itself -- sometimes it really is just skin deep -- because...ummm...blech!  The actual cake part was edible, but the frosting and fondant were Richy Rich.  The sugar levels that were present in both were only tolerable by the kids; for the adults, we picked at it and then ended up pitching most of it in the garbage. 

Sorry, Barbie, like most girls who emerge from birthday cakes, your use was superficial.

With some sugar pumping through their veins post-cake, the kids each took turns attempting to bench press one another and then crashed. 

Maybe if I'd had some more of that fondant, my evening run would've been a little better.  Instead, I felt like I slogged through my 3 miles.  It's day #17 of my baby running streak, and while I was pumped with enthusiasm about it at the beginning of the week, by today, I was simply dragging and just did my bare minimum.  Eh, some days that's how the running goes, right?

Weekend Happenings

Last week, I got an iPad.  It was a purchase I made with some of my Prof. of the Year funds, and since getting it, I've put it to very professorial use:

There's an app that lets you "dress a princess" -- right up Norah's alley!

Caleb has been practicing his walking: Norah likes to help him, but she usually goes too fast, and often times, Caleb ends up getting dragged behind her.  Here, though, with a little Dad help, they're going the right speed:

And all that walking builds up an appetite.

Was that a sufficient transition?  Hope so: Norah is like most almost-3 year-olds in that meal time is best compared to a hostage negotiation -- we have to coerce her to eat at every meal, and typically, she takes about 2-3 bites of any given meal and then declares that she's "done."  But, with her favorite meal, we need no bribery and there's no "eat 2 more bites" from us.  So, what's her favorite meal?  Mussels.  Yeah, you heard that right.  Mussels.  She loves 'em.  And, yesterday, she beat her old record and ate 23! 

And the only reason she quit at that number was because we ran out.  What a strange kid, right?  She'll barely eat a chicken nugget, but she'll eat mussels like they're candy.

Caleb hasn't tried mussels yet (we had been told to hold off on shellfish for kids until they're 2, but then we just read something that said you could try it anytime after 1 -- so, maybe he can have some next time), but he loves getting the buttered noodles.  But, goodness gracious, is it a MESS to clean up!

Lastly of note, Jerry decided to try his hand at creative birthday cake construction this weekend.  It's his sister's b-day on Wed and she's coming down to visit us tomorrow.  She'd requested a Barbie cake; this is what he managed to manufacture:

I think it's pretty impressive, don't you?  It was his first time working with fondant -- and Barbie -- and considering that, I think it sure turned out awesome!  Granted, Barbie's a bit crooked in there, but let's just assume she's lounging in her birthday ballgown.

As for me, I've been streaking.

Running streaking, that is.  Today is day #14.  More on that later this week -- I've got a mileage plan up my sleeve -- and I'll share more on that in a few days.  So, hold onto to your hats.

Blankies and Binkies

Norah has Bo-Bo, her stuffed pink bear, and it seems that Caleb has adopted his blue blanket as his cuddle object. 

This evening, he was getting very sleepy, and his blankie was frustratingly still inside his crib from this morning:

Once he managed to pull it out (with a little help from Mom), he was a happier boy. 

Isn't that just the sweetest?

And, yeah, he's got some pink pacifiers.  No, they're not hand-me-downs from Norah (we're not that cruel; we do buy the boy his own "nooks" -- as we call them); see, he only likes one specific brand of Playtex Binkies, and for awhile, the only ones we could find were at Walgreens, and they seemed to only stock pink ones.  More recently, I ordered a few packages worth of blue ones via Amazon, but he still seems to favor the pink ones.

Whatevs.  It doesn't matter to us if he's sucking on a pink one or a blue one; he doesn't have a whole lotta Dude Credit when he's snuggling his blankie on the floor -- no matter the color of his nook.

Do your kids have favorite cuddle objects or "lovies"?  I know when I was a baby, I had my Big Kitty -- ugliest stuffed cat you've ever seen in your life -- but I hugged and snuggled the bejesus out of that thing until it had no stuffing left in its neck. 

Still no neck stuffing.  And, yes, I still have it.  No, I don't snuggle it anymore. 

That's what Jer-Bears are for.

Kids: Want 'Em?

Today I had the essential conditions with the kids for a "perfect storm" kind of day -- rain, stuck at home because we were waiting for a service call, a moody preschooler, and a whiny toddler -- by lunch time, I was ready to set the two of them out by the curb with a "FREE" sign and see if I got any takers.

At lunch, Norah spilled her milk THREE times.  THREE times!  There isn't a font big enough to express my frustration during that meal.  I know that each spill was an accident, and I know that "there's no use crying over spilled milk," but christ on crutches, it felt like she was just trying to see if the vein in my head was going to burst.

Thankfully, after lunch, a fistful of Advil (for me), and a nice, long nap (for everyone), I felt much better.  And, the afternoon went much smoother than our morning: Rain cleared, service call was done, so we were free to escape to the park for awhile.  Everyone was happier.

Still, I was looking forward to getting out for my evening run.  Some days I need that run more than others, and I knew today was one of those REALLY-NEED-IT sort of days, and it did not disappoint.  4 miles later, I returned home feeling more sane than any amount of Advil can help me with.

I swear, for me, nuthin' is a better stress reliever than a good run. 

Well...an ice cold beer comes real close!