Do you feel like a good cry today?

I'm not a sentimental type.

I don't cry much.

Ok, I almost never cry.

I like to fancy myself a stoic type, very Vulcan-like and unemotional and practical and all that.

My Sis B recently told me that I don't have feelings like a "normal person," like we're experts on THAT or something.

Whatever.

Also, I pretty much never re-post or re-tweet or even watch or look at the sappy sentimental videos and pictures that are all over the internet, and that many people seem to love.

So when I got floored, like absolutely dropping on the ground ugly-crying into my coffee not once but twice by random videos in the past two weeks, I decided I had to share.

You're welcome.



I randomly clicked on this video on Facebook, mainly because it was posted by someone who never posts anything, so I figured it must be at least vaguely interesting.

I have gone back and watched it about a dozen times, and every time I sob hysterically.  At this point, I don't even have to get to the good part before the weird hiccuppy sobs start.

Then this morning I ran across this little gem via Twitter, and clicked it for pretty much the same reason.  Somebody who doesn't post videos put the link out there, so I gave it a quick click.


Danny & Annie from StoryCorps on Vimeo.


And... cue waterworks.

At this point, I'm afraid I may be getting softer and sentimental in my old age or something.

I may need an intervention, or the next step in this journey of mine may include holiday sweaters that light up and minivan stickers portraying my entire family, including the goldfish.

Somebody save me.

Please.

 

You probably would run screaming after 15 minutes.

Last week I saw a bunch of really cool posts linking to A Week in My Life by Adventuroo and I thought about doing it.

For about a minute.

Then, based on the fact that I didn't want to scare either of my readers off, I decided against it.

Truth be told, I'm not sure I want you guys to know what I do all day.  Um... Pinterest, anyone?  Also, since it has a tendency to be a little crazy around here pretty much every flippin' second of evert flippin' day from time to time, I wasn't sure I wanted to broadcast it.  But it kept calling to me.

Do me! Do me!


Oh my god, that was not meant to be as dirty as it sounds.  Really.

Finally I decided that I wouldn't try to do a whole day, just a short little span.

I do this all day long.  Surely you can handle 15 minutes, right?

So here's my Wednesday, from 3:30 pm - 3:45 pm.  Approximately, anyway.

3:30 pm:   Zj is just getting off the bus, and cj (in his stroller) and I are standing at the bus stop to meet him.

3:31 pm:  Still walking home from the bus stop.  Cj is yelling "More sucker me! Peassssee???" and zj is talking a mile a minute.  "And today we had YOGURT BOX for lunch! But I didn't like it.  So I ate some bread that was shaped like a fish.  It's ok, my friend gave it to me.  And guess what, Mama?  Today was HEALTH day!  And we learned about germs and..."

3:32 pm: We arrive home, I get the boys inside, everybody sheds shoes, jackets, backpacks, etc. and zj asks for a snack.  Cj: "NACK! NACK!"

3:33 pm: I procure some chips and salsa, and give it to the boys in the living room.

3:34 pm: The boys seem intent on eating their snack, so I wander off into the library (which is also known as Mama's Naughty Room, because it's where Mama goes when she needs a time out) to screw around on the internet, which I announce to the boys as "Mama is going to the library to do some VERY IMPORTANT WORK."

3:35 pm: Zj yells "Mama!  Cj is DRINKING the SALSA!"  Cj: "MOE SAUCE!  MOE SAUCE!"

3:36 pm: I determined that cj was indeed drinking the salsa.

3:37 pm: Clean up the salsa.  

3:38 pm: Clean up more salsa, which is inexplicably on the underneath side of the ceiling fan.

3:39 pm: I lose sight of zj for a second, then hear him yell from the bathroom "MAMA! Come look at how big this poop is!"

3:40 pm:  I go check on zj.  It is indeed a very large poop.  Lucky for you, I did NOT photograph it, even though zj was heartbroken that I would not.

3:41 pm: Spray some air freshener, then check to see what cj had gotten into. 

3:42 pm: Determine that cj had pulled all the toys off the shelves in his room.  Whew.  I got lucky there.  That, sadly, was the best case scenario.

3:43 pm: Pick up some of the toys, pausing long enough to yell "Zj, stop torturing your brother!" and "Cj, stop licking your brother!  You are not a puppy!"

3:44 pm: I determine that it's nearly 4 o'clock, which is damn close to 5 o'clock, and begin my own cry:

"MOE SAUCE!  MOE SAUCE!"

I’m sharing my awesome with Momma Made It Look Easy and you can too.

A sense of urgency.

Back when I was a high powered bookstore manager with oodles of people working for me, I was often in the position to coach, counsel and/or otherwise flog people for poor performance.

One of the very vague, yet very real things that showed up with certain people time and time again was "lacks a sense of urgency."

What this means, in layman's terms, is:

Slower than Christmas.
Slower than dirt.
Slower than dial-up.
Slower than speaking French with a phrase book.

It also means easily distracted or unable to complete simple tasks quickly.

I have a lot of experience with people who lack a sense of urgency.

I have coached and trained them for years.  And years.  And years.

But nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, could have prepared me for getting zj ready for school and out the door every morning.

For years, I silently mocked couldn't relate to parents who would talk about looking forward to weekends so they could sleep in, how sending kids to school was a full-time job, etc.

Oh, now I get it.

Do I ever get it.

Here's how a typical morning goes:

5:30 am:  I jump out of bed just before the alarm goes off (every time, of course), shower, dress and head downstairs.
6:00 am:  Coffee is made, breakfast for the boys is ready, I check email, maybe throw in a load of laundry, pay some bills, putter online...
6:30 am: I head upstairs to wake zj.

Me: "Z, honey, time to get up."
"Z, honey, wake up."
"Z, time for school!  Wake up!"
"Z, are you awake?"
"Breakfast time, baby.  Get up please."
"Z, get up, please.  Honey?"
"Z. Get. Up."
"Z. Time. To. Get. Up."
"GET. UP. NOW."
"NOW!"

Zj: "Mama, don't wanna.  I'm too tiiiiirrrrrreeeeeddddd."

Me: "You don't want to miss school today do you?  Today is library day!!!"

Zj: "My legs are too tiiiiiirrrrrreeeeeeddddd.  I can't get uuuuuppppp."

6:40 am: Zj is up and sitting in front of his breakfast, but only because I physically picked him up, slung his body over my shoulder, and carried him downstairs.

Me: "Zj, I need you to eat."
"Eat please."
"Zj, we don't have a lot of time.  Please eat your breakfast."
"Sit up straight and eat please."
"Zj, stop trying to lay down.  You need to eat."
"Eat. Your. Breakfast."
"EAT!"
"NOW!"

6:47 am:  Zj sits up straight, suddenly wide awake, and jumps back into the middle of a conversation we had several days ago.

Zj:  "And I think that Ironman could beat Spider-Man in a fight, if they got mad at each other because Spider-Man only has webs as weapons and Ironman has blasters in his hands and Mama, did you know yesterday at recess, two girls in my class were trying to RIP ME TO PIECES?  They were.  Really.  One got one hand and one got the other hand and they tried to pull me apart and today we might get to have a popsicle party at school..."

Me:  "Stop talking and eat."
"Stop talking and eat."
"Stop talking and eat."
"Stop talking and eat."
"Stop talking and eat."
"Stop talking and eat."

7:02 am (TWO MINUTES OFF SCHEDULE, I MIGHT ADD):

Me: "Zj, time to go upstairs and get ready.  Here's what I need you to do.  Go upstairs, brush your teeth, go pee, wash your hands - WITH SOAP - and change into your school clothes.  They're already out for you.  Can you handle it while I clean up breakfast?"

Zj: "I know, Mama, I KNOW."

7:05 am:

Me: "Zj, are you brushing your teeth?"

Zj: "I'm just getting ready to!  Really!"

7:08 am: I head upstairs, and see zj, still in his pajamas, sitting in his floor playing with a Batman figure.

Me: "BRUSH YOUR TEETH!" in my best possessed-by-demons voice.

Zj jumps up, runs into the bathroom and I hear water splashing.  I pick up the toys, then round the corner to the bathroom, where I see zj sitting on the edge of the FULL sink, splashing water up on the mirror and making boat noises.

Me: "OH MY GAWD BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND THEN GO PEE THEN WASH YOUR HANDS WITH SOAP DO IT AND DO IT NOW OR REALLY REALLY BAD THINGS THAT I CANNOT EVEN THINK OF RIGHT NOW WILL HAPPEN TO YOU DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Zj: "Ok, Mama, I was just getting ready to."

Me: *Head blows completely off.*

7:23 am: Zj is combed, dressed, brushed, and otherwise groomed.   Mostly.

Me: "Zj, head downstairs and get your shoes on.  Mama needs a nip of gin just a minute, ok?"

7:27 am: I head downstairs, where I see zj, sitting in the couch, fidgeting and swinging his still bare feet.

Me: "RJ! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW AND GET THIS CHILD READY FOR SCHOOL BEFORE I DO BODILY HARM TO HIM AND HE HAS BEEN TOO DAMN MUCH TROUBLE TO WASTE ALL THE EFFORT ON SO YOU'D BETTER GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE BEFORE CJ IS AN ONLY CHILD AND WHY CAN'T HE JUST GET FREAKIN' READY FOR SCHOOL ONE TIME WITHOUT MY YELLING AT HIM AND OH GREAT LOOK AT THAT NOW CJ IS AWAKE AND ALL I WANT IS FOR THIS CHILD TO HAVE HIS SHOES ON FOR CRYING OUT LOUD IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR ONCE?"

RJ: "Z, buddy, put your shoes on, ok?"

Zj: "Ok, Daddy."

Me: *Full blown explosion of head, complete with wailing, gnashing of teeth, speaking in tongues and twitching of eyelids.*

7:30 am: Zj and I are out the door to catch the bus, and the hardest hour of my day is officially over.

Well, till the next day, anyway, when we get to do it all over again.

Broken.

Hi, I'm mj, and it's been 22 days since my last run.

"Hi, Mj!"

A little over a year ago, I started running for the first time in my life, and my treadmill immediately tried to kill me.

It's ok, I eventually tamed that sucker, and took up running with a passion that I can only attribute to severe insanity coupled with fierce competitiveness.

I started running in actual races and to be quite honest, I've never been quite so addicted to anything in my life, and for someone who has a slightly addictive personality anyway, that's saying quite a lot.

So in keeping with my somewhat crazy outlook, I signed up for another half marathon for the fall, and decided that I was going to go all out with my training.

The slightly less than three hour finish in my last half marathon just wasn't good enough, so I upped my mileage, worked on my speed, and pretty much otherwise rocked the running shoes every chance I got.

My stamina was excellent.

My speed improved and I was consistently shaving over two minutes per mile off my previous time, even in long runs.

Until... one day, on a short easy run, I started feeling some pain in my right lower leg.

Now, let me start by saying that I have a ridiculously high tolerance for pain.  I'm not sure why, but every medical professional who has ever done anything supposedly painful to me has remarked on it.  I'm always just confused that it was supposed to hurt, and how can it be over if it didn't?  Anyway, I shrugged it off, finished my run, and ignored it for the next couple days, until it was time to run again.

And... I couldn't.

I. Could. Not. Run. At. All.

The pain was too intense.

So I tool a couple more days off, did the whole ice plus Tylenol thing, and got right back on the treadmill to "catch up" on the running I had missed over the past few days.

And... I still couldn't.

So I did what any reasonable, stubborn, pigheaded gal would do - I ignored it some more.

Until a week had passed, and it STILL hurt.

Then I got serious.  I started Googling it.

Google is my doctor of choice, you know, and I learned a lot about running injuries and how to prevent them, but not so much was available on how to CURE them.

My self-diagnosis is that it's a pulled or torn ligament.

Probably.

So I iced it, took some Tylenol, and mostly ignored it some more.

And still, nada.

So now I'm more than three weeks into a period of no running.  I'm grumpy.  I'm emotional. I'm broken.

I would have never predicted that not being able to run would affect me so much.

But I've made the decision to wait till it's completely healed before I try again.

Because I have to get better soon.

I've got some races to run.

We MUST get out more.

So a few weeks ago, zj started school, and that has left cj home with me all day.  Every day.

He's in love with it.

Some days, we do this:

Other days, we do this:

And sometimes, just for fun, we do this:

Oh, and a few times a day when I have to put him down to do something like, oh, say, GO PEE, we do this:

All this newfound togetherness, coupled with the fact that he no longer naps has driven me bat-shit crazy been a bit challenging.

I decided the right course of action would be to take him out into the world occasionally to socialize.   With other people.  Besides me and my lap, where he would happily sit for 14 hours a day if I would let him.

Last week, we went to story time at Barnes & Noble, and he liked it.  Mainly, I think, because he got to sit on my lap the whole time, but still, at least the scenery was different.

This week, I thought we'd repeat the story time experience, and double up with a trip to the kids' play area at the local mall.

We got to the mall early, and were the only people in the play area.  I know playing alone is totally not the point, but I was still relieved.  I like to stake and claim my territory early whenever possible.  

Cj immediately took to this castle/bridge deal, calling it a doghouse.  He crawled around yelling "I A PUPPY!  WOOF! WOOF!" and playing in his doghouse until other kids started to arrive.  At this point, he retreated inside the doghouse, growling and barking if any other kids came near.  

This was cute for about a minute, until I realized he was pretty serious about defending his turf.  Also, the other busybody moms went from smiling at "the cute little puppy" to muttering among themselves.  I caught a few words like "strange" "anti-social" and "feral" before scooping my growling puppy up, slapping his shoes on him and booking it out of the play area.  

"I think we'll find somewhere else to go." 

Cj licked my face and wagged his tail in hearty agreement.

Our next stop was story time at the bookstore.

Since we had done so well there the week before, I wasn't too worried.

Until we sat down among the other story time participants and he began to climb up my person like a spider monkey.  If a spider was the wailing, screeching sort.  Who yelled "Help MomMom!  Help MomMom!" repeatedly and made snot bubbles with his nose.

Story time: exit left.

So home we came, where we spent the afternoon curled up on the bed watching True Blood re-runs on HBO on Demand and eating Ruffles.  

It's ok, though.  I made it a fun learning experience.

Can you say "vampire," baby?

"Bampire."

Why someone ought to rethink those silly "no open liquor containers in the car" laws.

So, the J family is on vacation.

I'm currently sitting in a beautiful condo in beautiful Pawleys Island, SC, just waiting until it hits 80 degrees so we can hit the beach.

It's a hard life.

Really, it's a wonderful, laid-back kind of place.  The kind of place where the beaches are white and clean and empty, the locals are friendly, and nobody expects you to dress for dinner in anything that isn't flip-flops.

Which is a damn good thing, since getting here is a bit... er... stressful.

Fifteen hours.  One car.  One twitchy five year old.  One whiny twenty-two month old.  Two sleep-deprived adults.  Four different sets of directions/gps devices.  Incessant Batman cartoons.  Multiple pillow pets.  An entire electronics department worth of gadgets that beep and squeal and "Mama, this one doesn't work right!!!"  No liquor.

Hell.

Seventh circle.

For real.

They have no idea what's about to happen.

I think I've blocked whole portions of the trip.  It's a whole big long 15 hour day full of repressed memories.  It's for the best.  It's not like I really WANT to remember how I got us lost before we even left our hometown, or how many McDonald's I peed in, or how many Wal-Marts we stopped at before we found one with a gas station...  Hey, we had gift cards.  Gas is $37 a gallon, and our ginormous SUV gets about 2 gallons to the mile.  Don't judge.

I also have no desire to remember how, 30 minutes into the trip, cj started to tug on his carseat straps and yell "HELP! HELP!" at the top of his lungs.  Or how he spent the entire trip, except for the one peaceful hour he passed out, practicing his favorite new words at the top of his lungs, in seeming random order.  "Mine!"  "Bear!"  "Hello!" "Mine bear!"  "Cow!"  "Moo!"  "Nose!"  "Help!"  "Mine nose!"  "Dada!"  "Mama!"  "Mine!"  "Help!"  Or how he yelled "Ouch!" every time we hit a bump in the road.

Proof that he did sleep.  For a minute.

I also don't want to relive how many times zj said "Is there a bafroom nearby?"  Or how many times he peed on the side of the road.  And I especially don't want to remember the church that we stopped at so zj could pee on the tree.  Sorry, Jesus.  No disrespect intended.  But when a 5 year old's gotta go, he's GOTTA GO.  You understand, right?

And mostly, I don't want to remember exactly how many times I got us lost, with the four maps/gps gizmos in hand.

Yeah, totally blocked that.

Nope,  I'm just going to remember the beach and the sand and the sun and the boys having a great time.

And the beer.

I'll probably remember that, too.

Yeah, I just ran a mini marathon. My feet could star in a zombie movie. With redneck playlist!!!

So the running bug bit me a while back and it bit HARD.   I'm not an especially good runner.  My form is bad, my pacing is poor, my toes are black and look like they have been stepped on by an overweight elephant.  Also, I'm not really at a training level to run a mini-marathon.  Oh, and my feet... My poor, battered feet...  I am currently missing a toenail, am about to lose another one, and only have two that aren't black or bruised.  I have feet issues.  Serious ones.  But whatever.  I'd post a picture, but I don't want to run both my readers off.  It's ugly.  Maybe, just maybe, if you're lucky, I'll tell you all about my most recent shoe fitting, which led me to wear a pair of brand new, un-broken in, untried shoes for my longest race ever,  but for now, let's focus on the race, shall we?

Anyway, I signed up for, ran (mostly) and successfully completed this little mini, feet be damned.  Here's how it went down:

Starting Line - on the playlist:  Harper Valley PTA by Bobbie Gentry  I always wonder about the women at these races who have to get up at least three hours early to tease and/or otherwise bouffant their hair and carefully apply their makeup.  That woman up there has AT LEAST half a can of Aqua Net on her beehive.  That shit is going to melt once she starts sweating.  Hey!  Why is she in a faster corral than me?  Oh, here we go!!!

Mile one - on the playlist:  Van Lear Rose by Loretta Lynn  Ok, I wanted music to start that would help me pace myself, but... this song is so SLOW I'm practically running backward.  Hmmm... these shoes aren't feeling too great.  Actually, my left foot sort of seems like it may explode soon.  Hey Will, 5:30 Asics Pace Runner, do your really thing dropping trou and going pee in the middle of the race while a pace group is following you is a great idea? Ok, I guess you do.  Carry on, then.  And I kinda need to pee, too.  And what's that weird smell?

Mile two - on the playlist:  I Don't Want To Get Over You by Norah Jones and Willie Nelson  It's my man Willie's birthday today!  Love ya Willie!  Aw... isn't it sweet that the band kids are playing for us?  But could you crank it down a notch?  I'm trying to listen to Willie here.  And... my left foot is REALLY going to explode now.  It's ok, I didn't like that foot very much anyway.   Hi Mr. Policeman.  You are doing a good job keeping the traffic from crushing us on these side streets.  I appreciate that very much.  I'd appreciate it more maybe if you weren't the THIRD COP IN A ROW who was either playing Angry Birds and/or texting your wife/girlfriend/both on your iPhone.  I'm on to you.  I have an iPhone, and I know what it means when you hold it sideways...  And I REALLY need to pee.  And I STILL smell that smell.

Mile three - on the playlist:  I Feel Lucky by Mary Chapin Carpenter   Hmmm... this isn't the best neighborhood, is it?  Damn, my foot hurts.  Anyway, you adorable pit bull, you... you just stay on that side of the chain link fence, ok?  I really don't feel like being bitten today.  Unless maybe you could gnaw my left foot off.  Then it might be ok.  Hey, is that a hooker passed out on that porch?  Also, I'm thinking about peeing on myself.  REAL runners do that, right?  That smell... not going away.  What could that possibly be?

Mile four - on the playlist:  You're the Reason Our Kids are Ugly by Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty  OMG IS THAT A PORTAPOTTY LINE?  I'm totally stopping...  8 minutes later... Whew, that's better.  I can totally do this.  Well, I could totally do this if my left foot weren't about to explode.  Ok, and that smell keeps getting worse.  And worse.  Are we near a dog food factory or something?  Oh... I think I figured it out.  I'M THE SMELL.  It smells like teen spirit up in here, y'all.  And it's bad stuff.  

Mile five - on the playlist:  Tainted Love by Soft Cell  Not.  Feeling. Well.  Nauseous.  Foot. Hurts.  And how the HELL did that song get on my playlist?  Maybe I'll step over here for a minute... My sincerest apologies go out to the members of the Daughters of the American Revolution and/or their groundskeepers for any vomit I may have left near your building.  I can assure you that it is in no way a reflection of how I feel about your fine organization.  

Mile six - on the playlist:  Lyin' Eyes by the Eagles  Ok, I feel better, except for my left foot.  And I'm not sure that will ever be the same again.  Did that Grandma in front of me just Jump. Up. In. The. Air. And. Do. A. Leprechaun. Heel. Kick?  Why yes, yes she did.  Go Grandma.  Right now I hate you with a passion that is indescribable, you and your show-offy heel kicky 70 year old feet that work properly.  Bitch.  I think I'm going to step over here to the side and maybe do a quick amputation.  Or maybe I'll just take my sock off and try running without it...

Mile six point one - on the playlist: Did I Shave My Legs For This by Deana Carter Alrighty, the no sock thing was a bad idea.  Guess I'll get out of traffic and put that sucker back on...  My left shoe, however, I think I can do without. 

Mile seven - on the playlist:  Mind Your Own Business by Hank Williams Jr.  Hi Old Guy.  You must be Gene, since your shirt says "Gene's 38th Mini Marathon."  Either you're Gene, or you rolled Gene in the parking lot and stole his shirt.  Yes, I know I'm carrying my shoe.  Yes, I know it's a bad idea to wear new shoes on race day.  Yes, I understand that the same thing happened to you back in '78 in Memphis.  No, really I don't care.  Gene, I appreciate your wise words and witty anecdotes and all, but I think I might move on over to the side and put my shoe back on.  No, no, you go on ahead.  I don't want to hold you up.

Mile eight - on the playlist:  It's A Great Day To Be Alive by Travis Tritt  Great news!  Now my left foot is completely numb, so it no longer matters if it explodes.  Except exploded foot is going to be Hell to clean out of those shoes before I return them... Hey!  Is this Churchill Downs we're running through?  Awesome!  Also, the smell of horse piss is stronger than the smell of ME, and also considerably more pleasant.  Hey lady?  Why would you stop in the middle of a race to take pictures?  Don't you know you can buy a postcard?  Whatever.  Cool!  Beer tents.  I'm gonna be over there asleep under that pallet of Bud Light Lime if you need me.

Mile nine - on the playlist: Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker  I love this song.  It's one of those songs I just can't help but sing along to...  Oh, what are you looking at, lady?  It's a good song.  Besides, you are dressed like a middle aged, overweight Wonder Woman.  Clearly drawing attention to yourself is something you know a little bit about.  These people who stand out here and hand out water to all us thristy folks are awesome, but this group from Walgreens is the only group who is keeping the cups and bottles and other trash picked up along the way.  Clearly, being of the retail sort, they are used to picking up after other people.  And... my foot hurts. 

Mile ten - on the playlist:  One More Last Chance by Vince Gill Why are all the people around me congratulating each other?  We have THREE.  POINT.  ONE.  FREAKIN'. MILES. LEFT.  That's a 5k, people.  There is a more than even chance that SOMEBODY will drop out past this point.  Like me, maybe.  Wonder how that works?  Do I just raise my hand and ask to be excused?  Get a hall pass, maybe?  Or do I just go sit down on the side of the road and a bus comes and gets me in a few minutes and takes me to the gladiator ring with all the other losers and we get fed to the lions?  Hmmm...  I should have researched that a little better.  I hate being unprepared.  Guess I better keep going.

Mile eleven - on the playlist:  The Church on Cumberland Road by Shenandoah Seriously?!?!?!  Do you guys really think a mini-marathon is a good place to come on a getting-to-know-you date?  Also, dude, I'm pretty sure a line that starts with "I've made lots of bad choices in my life..." is NOT the way to guarantee a follow-up date.  And honey, you are way cute, but you are a hot sweaty mess right now, and your ponytail, which was probably all cute and perky this morning, is all higgledy-piggledy and askew.  You really don't want a guy to see you like that until after the third date.  And... my foot cannot possibly still be a functioning limb at this point.  That's ok, though.  I'll just get one of those super duper replacements like the Bionic Woman has.

Mile twelve - on the playlist:  Bye Bye by Jo Dee Messina One mile and change to go!  At this point, it will be easier to finish than to quit, because of the car is parked pretty close to the finish line.  Smart thinkin', huh?  Hey, is that Austin Powers up there?  Dammit.  I must be dehydrated and delusional.  Nope, that really is some yahoo dressed like Austin Powers.  Also, maybe I'll just get a peg leg and become a pirate, since my left foot is going to fall off soon.  Pirates are in right now, aren't they?  I'd hate to be a pirate if they were so last week...

Mile thirteen - on the playlist:  Beer for My Horses by Toby Keith & Willie Nelson There are two free drink tickets in my pocket calling my name.  After I finish this #&!@*$# race, I will drink beer.  And eat.  Possibly a whole cow.  With a couple chickens and a loaf of bread on the side.  And a pizza for dessert. And maybe a bottle of wine.  Or three.  Oh, and ice cream... Right after I throw up again... 

Finish Line - on the playlist:  Ready to Run by the Dixie Chicks  I can see the finish line!!!  I'm running FULL OUT!  Ok, maybe not.  How about moderately paced?  Anyway, surely the 10,000 people or so standing around the finish line aren't done already.  Yep, they're done already.  Including all those folks over there who are actual marathon runners.  They've run twice as far as I have, plus they've all had time to cool down, dry off, grab a bite to eat, tell a few funny stories, and... OH WHATEVER.  I'm done!  I did it!  And I got a freakin' medal to prove it.  Hey, why does my medal say "Wal-Mart" on it?


And here I am a couple days later, happy I did it, proud I finished, sore, tired, and planning how to do better next time... and there will be a next time.  


Actually, it's kind of like being pregnant.  It sucks and you're miserable the entire time, but you forget quickly enough, and do it all over again, because the rewards are worth the pain.


So, here's to the Derby City Marathon in 2012. 


I'm thinking by then, I'll be ready to run the whole damn 26.2.

I'm still pretty new - how do I request a day off again?

I'm still pretty new to this whole stay at home Mama business, and I'd say that for the most part, it's gone pretty well.

My boys are happier.  I'm definitely happier and more relaxed than I've ever been.  RJ is happier.

It was a good move.

But occasionally I have a day when I think maybe I'll get a part time job, just to get out of the house a little.  Or maybe I'll run away to join the circus.  Or maybe I'll just run away.

Yesterday was definitely one of those days.

I woke up grumpy.  I had a headache from hell - you know the one where every time your heart beats, it feels like someone is tightening a vice around your head?  Yeah, that one.  Zj woke up grumpy.  Even sweet little cj, who never has a harsh word for anybody - grumpy.  RJ, who may or may not have been grumpy, got to leave and go to work, so he missed all the fun.  Lucky dog.


We muddled through our morning with a minimum of interaction.   Trust me, it was for the best.  Mid-morning, I wandered off to screw around on Twitter to put in a load of laundry.  Don't worry, the tv was babysitting for me, so the kids were occupied.  Until I heard zj come running up to me yelling "Mama, Mama!"

Uh-oh.

"Mama, electricity and water DO. NOT. MIX."

Great tip, kid.  Now, where did I stash the fire extinguisher?

Ok, fast forward to lunch time... nothing was actually on fire, by the way.  I had the kids settled in to eat, and I wandered off again to screw around on Facebook scrub some toilets.  After a minute or two of peaceful, blissful, quiet, I realized that it was... quiet.  A quick peek at the kids led me to a quick conclusion - one was missing.

Zj was sitting, peacefully eating his lunch.  Cj was no longer strapped into his high chair and was nowhere to be seen.  Hmmm...  Not in the kitchen, not it the living room...  Ok, over the baby gate, past the closed bedroom door...  Yep... Throwing random stuff in the toilet.

Zj:  "Mama, I came as quick as I could when I heard you yell 'Oh Shit!'"
Cj: "Chit! Chit!"

I know cj is in a motor skills acquisition phase right now, but learning how to 1) unbuckle himself from the high chair 2) climb over the baby gate and 3) open doors - all in one day?  Come on, really?  Totally not fair.

And so it went.

At one point, zj asked me if he could go to the sitter's house.  Apparently, she's "nice,"  whatever the hell that means.

At another point, cj walked up to me, patted my leg comfortingly, then said very sternly "Shhhhh, Mama."

Best. Mama. Ever.

At different times throughout the day, no less than 2/3 of the people in this house were in tears.

Not my best work, people.

But today is a new day, kids have short memories, and I'm not above a bribe or two I'm decidedly less grumpy today.

Strangely enough, so are these guys.

What's up with that, I wonder?

It's good to have goals.

So, last year,  I took up running so as not to have an a$$ the size of a small middle Eastern country.

Four months ago, I even made some grand promises about running a 5k.

Well guess what?

This past Saturday, I did it.

I ran a 5k.

I didn't embarrass myself.

I didn't finish last.

I even got a cool t-shirt to prove it.

It was a high like I have never experienced before except for that one really GREAT contact buzz I got at a Toby Keith concert.

I immediately came home and started looking for other races to run in the near future.

Then I saw this one.

Which is not a 5k at all, but a 10k.

That's more than 6 miles, people.

But I'm seriously considering it.

I ran 5 miles on the treadmill yesterday,  and only stopped because the children were clamoring for breakfast.  Pesky kids have to eat ALL. THE. TIME.  Like, at least three times a day.  Good grief.

Tomorrow, I plan to do the full six miles and change.

I'll see how I feel then, and I have almost a whole week to decide.  Yowza.

I'm also planning to run this race in April, and I'm setting some pretty aggressive time goals for myself.  Also, in a fit of either brilliance or insanity - not sure which, I'll let you know - I've talked several members of my extended family into walking this one.  There are a few folks who are close to me who are trying to lose weight and get fit, and I'm so proud of them.  This will be a great big ole family affair, complete with much hugging and sobbing at the finish line, I imagine.

So, it's official.

I'm addicted.

And as someone who has never made time for or been interested in any sort of physical activity before, it feels sort of strange.

But I like it.

Oh Willie. How could you?

It is the end times, people.

Life as we know it - gone in an instant.

Changed forever.

Just... gone.

Because Willie Nelson has Cut. His. Hair.

Off.

Gone.

Kaput.

Shorn.

Oh, Willie, how could you betray me this way?

Me?

You know, your biggest fan? Hello???

You know, the one that came to your concert last year while nine and a half months pregnant in the 120 degree heat outside at night and I couldn't even drink a beer?  Because hello?  Pregnant.  You know, the one who owns all your albums, legitimately purchased, not downloaded, even the ones in musical genres I do not like and you cannot sing?  Now that's dedication.

I'm crushed.

Devastated.

Because you have gone from being a semi-hot-for-an-old-guy-fabulous-guitar-player-best-songwriter-to-ever-walk-the-planet to a creepy old guy whose hat doesn't fit right.

I can only hope that your hair is going toward a good cause.

Like, maybe you donated it to Locks of Love for old people.

Or possibly it's being used in the development of a new biodiesel.

Or maybe it's being used to mop up that big oil spill.

Or, quite possibly, you are selling it on ebay to pay your growing back taxes and legal fees.

You were the last true rebel.

And now you've conformed.

Gotta go.  I think I need another beer.