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(in)Sanity

Today I tried to have a perfect day. I really did. I wanted a day without stress and without incident.

When my kids woke up at 7 instead of 8 because of freaking Daylight Savings Time, did I convince them it was still night-time, and that they needed to go back to sleep? (And I know that some parents out there are thinking that I’m lucky that my kids sleep until 8 regularly, and I shouldn’t be complaining. However, I. AM. NOT. A. MORNING. PERSON. Not even a little bit. So yep, a 7am wake up scream does not make me happy.) No, I did not. I mustered all of my energy and got the little rats up and got breakfast started (toaster paynk-paynks? you ask, why certainly.)

Liam settled into shoveling food into his face, while Logan spent the whole breakfast time in the bathroom. He did not want to go potty, a fact that he established by screaming it at the top of his lungs. “I DON’T WANNA GO POTTY! NOOOOOOO! I WANNA PUT MY UNNIES ON! UNNIES! UNNNNIIIIEEESSSS!” I calmly explained that his undies and breakfast were all ready for him, and he could have both as soon as we peed. After a good half hour in the bathroom he relented.

I had given Logan oranges along with his pancake, because Liam was having bananas and Logan doesn’t like bananas. Immediately upon sitting down he demanded a banana. Knowing that there is no arguing with him, I gave him a half of a banana. Which he ate exactly 2 bites of before feeding the remainder to the dog.

I decided that I would get some mileage out of the new membership that we purchased to Mobius, a children’s museum. After breakfast, we proceeded to get dressed and ready. I put Liam’s shoes on. He took them off. I put them back on. He took them back off. I put them back on. He took them off, and tried to feed them to the dog. I wondered if I could make my millions by inventing some sort of shoe suspenders that attached to a belt or something so that babies could not remove their own shoes. I gave up on Liam wearing shoes. I tried to convince Logan to pick matching socks, an idea he wanted nothing to do with, and we all finally ended my mostly dressed and ready.

We arrived downtown and went to a parking lot that is about 10 blocks away from the children’s museum because my mom works in the building and lets us use a parking pass whenever we go downtown. I can’t say no to free parking. We go up and visit my mom in her office for a bit, and I try to get Logan to go the bathroom while we are there. This results in another big stand-off until I am lamenting that the bathroom walls are cinderblock so it’s unlikely that I would be able to smash my head through one. I finally tell Logan that he doesn’t have to go right now, but if he pees his pants, we’re going straight home, and going to nap before lunch. And suddenly someone is ready to potty. That’s right: threatening children with malnourishment works!

We proceed to the children’s museum many blocks away. On the way there Liam pulls off his socks no less than 25 times. For those of you who aren’t so good at math that’s 2.5 times per block. If it wasn’t so cold, I wouldn’t push it, but I’m actually afraid his feet might fall off from the cold. We arrive at the children’s museum just minutes after a large preschool field trip does. What was supposed to be a quiet morning is now a zoo. We actually have a lot of fun at the museum, despite the baby almost getting destroyed by a crazy preschooler on a push car. Logan whines when we have to leave.

We get home, eat lunch, and the kids go down for nap. I listen to a message from my mother in law about home school curriculum accreditation that sends me into a stress frenzy. Which is why I spent the last 2 hours researching homeschooling laws etc. online. I’ve also just remembered that I need to schedule dentist appointments and Christmas pictures. I seriously don’t even want to know what my blood pressure is today.

So today wasn’t anywhere near perfect, but several parts of it have been very fun. I feel like maybe I’m setting my expectations too high for having a 1 and a 3 year old. Instead of a perfect day tomorrow, I think we’ll shoot for a fun and messy day where my blood pressure can stay within normal limits (mostly).

 
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Posted by on November 8, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

Peanut Butter to Paynk-Paynks

I am not a morning person. I loathe the first half hour that I am out of bed everyday. I just want to be left alone. My kids do not seem to care that Mommy does not actually become a person until she’s had a shower. They do not leave me alone. Moments after waking they are demanding things from me: namely breakfast.

My husband used to do the breakfast thing every morning with the kids back when he worked evenings. Now that he leaves for work at 6 in the morning, breakfast falls under my purview. Everything was fine until my three year-old ratted my out to my husband about feeding the boys peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast everyday.

“I eat peenbutter sanwich for breakbast!” My husband tried to convince him that he had a “peenbutter sandwich for lunch, not breakfast. He said, “No Daddy! I eat chick chicks and bwacolli for lunch. I eat peenbutter sanwich for BREAK-BAST!” Little man had it right. Mama was smearing some peanut butter on a slice of bread, folding it in half and calling it “breakbast.”

My husband has always been the get-up-in-the-morning-and-cook-the-kids-pancakes-and-eggs sort of guy. He shamed me over my feeding the children sandwiches for breakfast. So I bought a big box of toaster waffles from Costco and we worked with that for the next several weeks. As it turns out I can throw frozen waffles in the toaster in the morning. And Logan loves “rockles.” One day when I was pulling some rockles out of the big freezer to bring inside, I noticed the ingredients. Holy preservatives, Batman! I wanted a healthier option. I tried doing instant oatmeal for a while, but I had no patience waiting for the teakettle of water to boil, plus I had to get the brown sugar out, and after breakfast, I had to clean oatmeal out of the baby’s ears. It was a no-win situation. I finally devised a reasonable solution. I make about 75 pancakes in advance, freeze them in freezer bags, and toast them as needed. It was a bit of a trail and error process, and the first couple pancakes were served partially frozen before I realized that they needed a double toasting.

But now we have hit our stride. We have toaster pancakes with whatever fruit I have in the house for breakfast. It meets the expectations of “breakfast food” by my husband, it’s healthy, and most importantly I can prepare it while mostly still asleep. One thing that was really disappointing for me though, was how much I enjoyed Logan calling his waffles “rockles.” I knew I would miss this when we switched to pancakes. It ended up better than I could have imagined. He calls them “paynk-paynks.”

So if you ever want to come to our house for breakfast, head on over. We will all be in our pajamas, munching on some paynk-paynks.

 
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Posted by on November 7, 2011 in NaBloPoMo, Parenting

 

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Pulling a Joelle

So my husband and I have fallen in love with the Biggest Loser. It was a surprising romance for us, as we traditionally do not enjoy “reality” TV. However, as we are on our own weight-loss journeys, the Biggest Loser has captured our attention. We watched it on Netflix one night and the rest is history. We are currently watching season seven, so no one spoil the end for me.

Anyway, with our new interest in the Biggest Loser, we discuss different merits of the players while we watch. We hate (in the following order):

1. Game Players (people who don’t care about losing weight, they just want the prize money).

2. Lazy People (come on, you’re there to work out).

3. People Who Lie (‘nough said)

4. Drama Creators

5. Whiners

Not in the list however, are criers. As long as they are not whining while they cry, we tend to have a soft spot for the criers.

A few weeks ago, my husband’s dad called him and told him he had something serious to talk about with him. They decided to meet downtown for coffee before my husband went to work. We speculated what this important conversation could be about. The day arrived, and my husband met up with his dad. A few hour later I received an email from my husband detailing what his dad had wanted to tell him. He said that his dad had felt so guilty about some stuff that had happened when Matt was a child that he had to get it off of his chest (and for the record it wasn’t any big deal –  my husband was not miffed in the least). Anyways, closing his email to me, Matt told me that “Dad cried like Mark on the Biggest Loser.” I spent the next three hours giggling. Not because my father in law had cried, (because he is truly a sweet guy, and was carrying around guilt that he didn’t need to) but because of the comparison. Matt and I had been laughing about a big tough guy on Biggest Loser Season 5, who got to the ranch and turned into a big crier. Now when anyone in our house cries about something that is not a big deal we accuse them of “crying like Mark”

So fast forward to last night when we had a family drama blow-up at my baby’s birthday party. I hate drama. I hate yelling, and I really hate it when people do it in my home. I was still ticked about it today, and was talking about it to my husband about my frustration with what had transpired. (Don’t worry, I didn’t cry like Mark.) Matt thought for a moment, and said, “yeah, she really pulled a Joelle.” Season 7 of the Biggest Loser features Joelle, who was nothing but drama. So now, when people have drama, they “pull a Joelle.”

I really like our new way of describing situations based off of Biggest Loser contestants. I can’t wait for all of the new personality descriptions in the seasons to come.

 
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Posted by on November 6, 2011 in General, NaBloPoMo

 

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Liam is One!

Mmmmm…cake

Yep, that’s all you get on my son’s 1st Birthday. Happy Weekend!

 
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Posted by on November 5, 2011 in NaBloPoMo

 

Good Job

Today was my (not such a baby anymore) baby’s 12 month check-up. I made the appointment months ago because our awesome pediatrician is well, awesome, and he books up really fast. And when I made the appointment my husband was working evenings so I made it in the morning, knowing that it would be so much easier to just take the one kid. Fast forward to 8 this morning when the alarm goes off and I realize I have to haul to kids to the pediatricians office because my husband now works mornings. The appointment was at 9, and it was all the way across town, and I had to get the kids up, dressed, and fed within the next half hour, so I did the only sensible thing. I hit the snooze button. Ten minutes later, I got up, and knowing I had just missed my precious window of being able to shower, I just resigned myself to a slightly dirty Friday. Don’t worry guys, I showered yesterday (I’m pretty sure I did, okay, it might have been the day before). I brushed my teeth, put my hair up in my perma-style of a bun (because little hands like to pull in unsecured hair, and while my children may be giving me premature grey hair, I refuse to be bald), and began the awesome task of waking the kids. They were actually reasonable this morning, so we were able to get out of the house without too much of a ruckus. Which, let’s face it, is pretty much a miracle. I’m feeling pretty good about myself until I’m in the car, almost to the office, and I see that my white shirt has a large brown stain on the shoulder, that I’m seriously am hoping is coffee, but in my house you really never know. 

We arrive at the Dr.’s office, and get in the line to check in. My 3-year-old wanders around the waiting room, and heads for the toys. “No!” I call after him. “We don’t touch toys at the doctors office.” He remember the rule because he replies, “Uh Oh! THE GERMIES!!! I gotta wash my hands!” Yep, I scared my kid about germs, and he remembers. People in the waiting room give me Looks. Not little looks, big, “that lady is crazy” Looks. With a capital L. Look at me all you want; I’m trying to not have my whole family sick all dang winter this year. I would have no problem telling my 3 year-old that if he plays with kids that have runny noses, dinosaurs will come into his playroom at night and eat all of his toys. I am ruthless in my pursuit of a less sick winter. Then again, maybe they were just looking at my hopefully coffee (not poop) stain on my shirt.

Moving on, we get checked in and called back. The nurse, who we love, takes away the piece of toast Liam was eating in order to weigh him. He screamed bloody murder, then yanked out a good-sized handful of her hair, which was not secured in a bun. Once he had his toast back, all was fine, and the appointment was uneventful until it was time to draw blood. Another nurse and I have to hold Liam down, while a second nurse does the actual blood draw. Liam is screaming bloody murder again and crying big sad tears, and Logan pipes in with a “my turn next please!” Seriously kid, I know brother is getting attention right now from several people, but take the blood-curdling screams as a sign that this is probably not a fun activity to get in line for. It’s times like these that I picture him as a little lemming, lining up to walk right off a cliff. “Gee, this is a long line, but I bet it’ll be so worth it when I get to the front.” As we’re getting ready to leave, the doctor comments on how wonderful my boys are. I’m sure he probably says this to everyone, but from him it sounds so sincere. Every time we leave this particular pediatrician he makes me feel like I’m an awesome parent. For this reason (and the fact that he’s a great doctor), I fear that he will retire or die (what? he’s really old) before my kids are teenagers. I don’t know how I would find a new pediatrician. I don’t love anyone else in his practice, and I’m thinking it would be awkward when calling to interview other practices to ask them if their doctors make a regular point to affirm their patients parents, while acting like that’s not what they’re doing, that they’re simply that impressed with the family. Seriously though, I think every parent needs affirmations that they’re doing a good job.   

So some parent to parent love from the (not so) Super Mama:

You are a good parent. Even if your dishes aren’t done, even if your laundry piles up, even when you accidentally let your baby roll off the couch, even if you sometimes have to lock yourself in the bathroom and cry. You are a good parent. On the days that you play with your kids, on the days you lay on the couch with a headache, on the days that are easy and fun, and on the days that you feel like you spent your whole day putting your kid in and out of time out. You are a good parent. No matter what parenting choices you make, whether you co-sleep or use a crib, whether you’re a “helicopter” or a “free-ranger,” whether you rock them to sleep or let them cry it out. You are a good parent. Even if your kid falls down, even if you let your kids have peanut butter and hotdogs before they turn one, and even if some days you want to plop your kids in a box and ship them to Peru, you are still a good parent. Even when you feel like you aren’t, you are a good parent. Good parents care. Good parents doubt themselves sometimes. Good parents need that affirmation occasionally. So, if it’s hard sometimes, that’s because you’re doing it right. I want you to know, you’re doing a great job.

 
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Posted by on November 4, 2011 in NaBloPoMo, Parenting

 

Halloweird (Makin’ Bacon in 45 Easy Steps)

As you know Halloween was on Monday. So what do you think I spent my entire weekend doing (besides trying to convince my brain to remember things for my freakin chemistry class)? That’s right- making costumes! Not for the kids though. They are too young to have any real input so for Logan, I held up the two costumes I liked best and let him pick, and for Liam, I took advantage of the fact that he is too young to stop me, and I dressed him in a really silly costume. My husband however, requires a homemade costume. His sense of humor is just too big to be contained by a store-bought costume. I knew a couple of things going into this:

1. Even silly store-bought costumes are not as silly as my husband.

2. Homemade costumes, especially funny ones, take some construction effort.

3. I would not be frantically trying to make his costume the night before Halloween like last year.

Knowing these truths, I asked my husband to start thinking about what he wanted to be far in advance of Halloween. We tossed some ideas around before landing on:

 He’s on the right and if you can’t read his name tag it says “Kevin” …

So did you get it right away? If not, don’t worry, I won’t judge you. Okay so maybe a little. But not as much as I judged the lady that thought he was sausage. Come on, who dresses up as sausage? Bacon, more specifically, Kevin Bacon is so much better.

For the record baby Liam is a duck because the costume came with adorable orange and yellow striped tights, and there are very times in life when it is socially acceptable to put your little boy in tights, so I went with it. Logan is a monster. And yes he is adorable in his cute little costume, that because of his poofy monster belly zips up the back. But not all the way down the back; more like half-way. Which made wrestling a toddler in and out of it to go to the bathroom all night an absolute joy. Clearly this costume was not made by (or apparently purchased by) anyone with a whole lot of brains. Let’s make (or in my case buy) a costume for three-year olds (who are likely to be potty trained just enough to wear big kid undies, not enough to be able to hold it for any amount of time) that’s nearly impossible to get out of. Genius! Seriously not my finest parenting moment. (However, still better than the time that I lost the baby inside my tiny house – that was ridiculous.) Moving on, I am dressed as a lovely fairy princess costume that consisted of a tulle skirt that I made myself, at the price of many hot-glue burns. That’s right I hot glue stuff together when I’m feeling lazy even though I know how to sew.

So back to my weekend of costume making. Matt and I needed to figure out how to make a bacon costume, and our original idea of snazzing up a sweat suit didn’t seem like it would work to well. So what’s a gal to do? Google it! And yes, there were a couple of sites that had instructions about how to make a bacon costume. This is going high up on the list of reasons that I love the internet. The basic idea is to spray paint foam, glue or velcro, a and you’re good to go. Easy enough. So I thought. I present to you how to make bacon in 45 easy steps: 

1. Head to the craft store to purchase foam.

2. Realize craft foam is expensive! I want to make a Halloween costume, not a car payment.

3. While gaping at the price of craft foam realize your son has climbed precariously high on a ladder marked “do not use”

4. Pull child off of said ladder.

5. Leave craft store, and drive across town to other, sometimes cheaper craft store.

6. After arriving at other craft store, stop your toddler from nearly taking down a giant display of glass vases.

7. Locate craft foam and determine that it is only slightly cheaper.

8. Tell your whining toddler that it will be lunch time eventually, but right now it’s 10 in the morning, so it’s going to be awhile.

9. Leave second craft store empty-handed.

10. Tell toddler that it’s still not lunch time.

11. Head to big box store.

12. Tell toddler that no, he may not have a corn dog because it is not time for lunch.

13. Locate craft foam, and realize that all craft foam is appallingly priced.

14. Have epiphany and head to bedding section.

15. Select two large pieces of bedding foam for much cheaper than craft foam.

16. Enjoy your foam locating triumph for a moment.

17. Realize the baby is licking the filthy cart and try to get him to stop.

18. Listen to the baby scream because you wont let him lick the cart.

19. Give up and pretend not to notice the baby licking the cart.

20. Try to decide if “burnt amber” or “rusted sunset” spray paint looks more bacon-ey.

21. Select spray paint and head to the checkout.

22. Finally give in and agree to feed the toddler lunch.

23. Grab lunch and head home.

24. On the way home, realize you forgot velcro.

25. Go back to the store for velcro.

26. Once home, put kids down for nap, and wish that you had wine in the house.

27. Have an intense marital squabble about the proper way to paint foam.

28. Equate husband doing the painting his way with him not loving you.

29. Make up.

30. Run out of spray paint.

31. Head back to the store for an additional can of “burnt amber”

32. Convince husband to do it your way.

33. Gloat about how much better your way works.

34. Realize that although the painting was done on the back porch, the whole house reeks of spray paint.

35. Once paint is dry cut out your bacon shapes.

36. Velcro your bacon shapes together to make a bacon suit.

37. Run out of velcro.

38. Go purchase additional velcro.

39. Finish bacon suit.

40. Have husband make a “my name is: Kevin” nametag.

41. Tell him his printing isn’t good enough, and make your own nametag.

42. Attach nametag to bacon suit.

43. Put on bacon suit.

44. Win costume contest at work, and delight many people on the street.

45. After Halloween, eat lots of your kids candy. You deserve it.

So this may seem like a lot of work for a Halloween costume, but it delighted so many people. Although one gal thought he was a colon, most adults got it, and laughed at the pun, and kids giggled and exclaimed, “Hey! He’s bacon!” It was a seriously excellent Halloween costume. And while it is sad to put so much work into something that is only worn for one day, I’m glad we did it. And next year, I suppose he could reuse the costume and be Kevin Colon.

 
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Posted by on November 3, 2011 in General, NaBloPoMo

 

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NaBloPoMo

So it’s NaBloPoMo time. For those of you not in the crazy abbreviation loop, it’s National Blog Posting Month, which is an offshoot of National Novel Writing Month. The goal: to post on my blog each and everyday. The problem: it’s only the 2nd day of the month and I have already failed. In my defense I kind of forgot that yesterday was the 1st of November until about 3 minutes before I left for my chemistry night class. I got home at 10, and literally only had 3 brain cells left. Blogging was not even on my radar. Even though I missed the 1st day, I do want to do this. And being a super busy mama, my justification for devoting this time to my blog instead of other things, is that I am currently enrolled in a typing class to try to remedy my molasses slow typing skills. So, for me blogging everyday = typing practice. See, really I’m just trying to further my education. (And for those of you who are wondering, I took a typing test today, and I came in at 24 words per minute, which I was very pleased with – which shows you my lowered standards.) Anyways… 

So here we are, November 2nd, and I am committing to NaBloPoMo. Officially. I may even give you an extra blog post today to make up for my slacking yesterday, and to make up for the fact that this post is all about blog posting. I may even include a cute picture of my kids.

So get ready for 30 (okay 29) days of my awesome observations on being a full-time stay at home mama, student, crazy lady. You better hope my kids are extra hilarious this month.

 
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Posted by on November 2, 2011 in NaBloPoMo

 

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Sleeping Like a Baby

I like to believe that we all have our weird parenting things that we do. Some of us are super schedulers, some of have weird cooking or food habits, some of us are very particular about how we dress our kids, and some of us take way to many pictures of our kids sleeping in crazy positions. Oh, that last one is just me? My boys are marathon sleepers. They can sleep anytime, anywhere, and they can do it twisted up like pretzels. The first thing I think when I see them in a random sleep position is “ohh… how cute,” followed immediately by “where’s the camera.” My husband thinks it’s strange, but I can’t seem stop. I need embarrassing pictures for when the boys grow up and start to date. And I think that the boys will both be relieved if I’m showing their girlfriends silly sleeping pictures because it will take me longer to get around to the bathtub pictures, the potty training pictures, and the pictures of a certain someone (ahem..Logan) playing the guitar in his undies. So without further ado, here are some (by no means all) pictures of my kids sleeping.

 This is Logan passed out at the dinner table. You know how tired he is because that is pizza that he has only taken one bite of before conking out.

Here we have Liam who rolled over and passed out mid-stride while he was crawling. I can’t count how many times I’ve wanted to do that at the grocery store; just decide that all that effort was too much, lay down, and take a little snooze wherever I please.

Here we have Logan, peacefully asleep with his stuffed dog Bruce. As it may be clear Logan LOVES Bruce.

This is Leelee asleep in his high chair. This alone is not super impressive until you find out that at this very moment, the toddler was screaming, the dog was barking, and my husband was playing his guitar a couple of feet away.

This is Logan as a baby, right after he jumped himself to sleep. Yep, I left him there for about 45 minutes until he woke up. Doesn’t he look comfy?

And this is Liam, asleep in his jumper. I know it’s the same jumper, but I swear it’s a different kid. If you don’t believe me, note how bald Liam is compared to the previous picture of his brother. Seriously, do they make baby Rogaine?

We were getting ready to go camping for the weekend, and Liam decided he ought to rest up.

And I saved the best for last. Not only is Liam sleeping under the swing instead of in it, he’s also holding onto the support bar under the swing with one hand, and holding onto the tray with the other hand, while fast asleep.

This is by no means a comprehensive collection of all of the crazy pictures that I have of my kids sleeping, but it is a sampling of some of my personal favorites. Makes you want to crawl up on top of your dresser and take a nap, doesn’t it?

 
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Posted by on October 28, 2011 in Parenting

 

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There’s Nothing to See Here

I have a love/hate relationship with the internet. It allows me to do the majority of my college classes from home, to keep up with old friends that I never see (thank you Facebook), to find a recipe for dinner in moments, to be able to almost instantly settle an argument between my husband and I about whether or not it was a full moon that night (you know I was right), to be able to stream a VeggieTales program to my TV when I’m sick and need the preschooler to sit still for a darn minute, and to update a blog with my random parenting musings. The internet can be pretty awesome. Then there is my hate relationship with it. So much stuff is out there, and as a relatively conservative mama, I feel like there is a lot of stuff out there on the internet that really shouldn’t be. Which brings me to the actual story.

So, I have the ability to look at what people typed into search engines that caused them to find and click on my blog. Usually it’s a very boring report to look at, so I almost never do. However this week an entry on the search engine terms list caught my eye: “licking peanut butter off a little girl’s toes.” Okay, so I don’t know this person, but that does not sound like an appropriate Google search to me. Now, I have done some strange Google searches such as: “can a screaming child cause a brain aneurysm,” and “how to scrub poop off of very textured walls,” and right after that, “how to stop toddler from smearing poop on walls.” So really, I am no stranger to the random Google search. However, the person who found my blog via that search was likely not looking for anything too innocent, at least in my opinion. Although search engines usually pull up a brief abstract from the site, and the post that this search pulled up was about my trip to a school orientation that culminated in my 11 month old son Liam, licking peanut butter off of his own feet. Not exactly a risqué situation. I really do hope this person wasn’t looking for anything inappropriate, but just having a weird Google search moment of their own. However, I realize that this is probably not the case.

So back to my relationship with the internet. I love my kids. I love talking about them. I love bragging them up. I love showing them off. Right before I saw this search engine list, I had been working on a silly post about my kids with a lot of silly pictures. After I saw this search engine term, I was hesitant to finish the post. Currently (except for the one picture tied to this page), the only pictures I post of my kids online are the ones in my Facebook page that I control the access to. I don’t think any parent has to actually say this, as it’s strongly implied, but I don’t want perverts looking at pictures of my kids. So after much consideration, I have decided to finish the post, complete with pictures. Honestly it was a good reminder that anything I post, people can see, and use as they’d like, even if these people are less than savory characters. With that in mind, I will not post anything like bath-tub or potty-training pictures (even though I have some totally G-rated awesome ones). However, a picture of my 3 year-old passed out in his plate of pizza will probably be okay.

I’d honestly like to assume the best in people, and that the person who used that search term forgot to include “a dog” or something at the beginning of the phrase. But if not: Greetings Perverts! You will not find any weird pervert-ey material that you may have looking for here, but you may find some amusing adventures of a stay-at-home mama. And I can say with certainty that there will be no pictures posted of anyone, even the dog, licking peanut butter off of anything.

 
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Posted by on October 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

Adventures in Jogging

So, I’ve taken up jogging. As part of my mission to finally be fit instead of fat, I started the Couch to 5k program. Approximately 3 days a week (okay, 2 days most weeks) I jog a 30 minute workout in the program. Couch to 5k is basically interval training. The first week you’re supposed to run hard for 1 minute then walk for a 1:30 and repeat, for an entire half hour. So, I may be on my 4th week of week one, but still I’m doing it. I’m really trying to get my speed up before moving on to the harder phases of the program because my initial running speed was a 4.0mph the treadmill. For those of you not down with miles per hour conversions that is a 15 minute mile. That is molasses slow. There are 3rd graders with their tiny 3rd grader leg that walk faster than that. There are senior citizens who have had hip replacements that walk faster than that. So, anyway, I’m trying to get my running speed up a little higher, so that maybe I can run faster than the senior citizens strolling through the park. In the last 4 weeks, I’ve worked my running speed up to a much less shameful 5.2mph, which is just a hair under a 12 minute mile. So the point of all this is I have started jogging (slowly, but still jogging).

Usually I do my jogging at the gym with my screaming banchees sweet children safely tucked into the childwatch. They play with blocks, and use Barbie Dolls as hammers to “fix” the roof of the dollhouse, while I huff and puff on the treadmill upstairs. Unfortunately we haven’t made it to the gym in several days because there has been NO time. So today, I decided to do my jog around the neighborhood with the kids. I do not have a jogging stroller, which didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. As it turns out, it is A. VERY. BIG. DEAL. So I bundled up my kids like little blonde Eskimos, and strapped them into the double umbrella stroller. As I placed my improvisational gloves (read: socks) on the babies hands Logan said he needed “mitts” to. I ran back in to get socks for Logan’s hands, and tricked the dog into coming back inside by pretending I was going to feed him. Sucker. I was jogging with two kids and no jogging stroller. I was not going to have the dog tripping me up too. As soon as I shut the door, the dog was up in the front window barking, as he had figured out my trick, and was undoubtedly cursing me out in dog barks. 

I tried to push the stroller out of our gravel driveway, but the task was made more difficult by the fact that the stroller was weighed down with a combined 55 lbs of baby/toddler weight and an additional 17 lbs of warm winter clothes. I finally got the stroller into the grass, and out onto the sidewalk. And we were off. I was jogging. Without a jogging stroller. I was awesome. Even with the stroller, I was maintaining good form, I was picked up speed. I looked up, and stopped just short of slamming my children into the neighbors gate at an approximate rate of 5.2mph, which had blown open in the wind. I steered us up into the grass strip, went around the gate, and forged on. Everything was perfect until a little later down the block, a lawn service guy was emptying a mower bag into a garbage can in the middle of the sidewalk. He saw me coming and I kept waiting for him to move, but alas, it never happened. Who has the right of way in that situation? A young able-bodied guy dumping out lawn clippings or a chubby stay at home mom barreling down the sidewalk at full speed with two young children in a stroller that was designed for perusing the mall? I think we all know the answer to that question, however he clearly did not, as he just stood there. In an attempt to go around him, I pushed my stroller onto the grass strip without really slowing down. I may or may not have almost fallen, taking the stroller and the kiddos down with me. It was a truely graceful moment.

Shortly after this, towards the end of the block, my lungs began to burn in an unbearable way. Not in the normal, “Man, I’m out of shape” way that they sometimes do. It was more of an “I think I’ve inhaled anthrax and have seven minutes left to live” sort of burn. I tried to push on, but I had to slow to a walk before my lungs exploded. My best guess (since my neighborhood isn’t highly likely to be targeted with anthrax) is that there was some allergen blowing around in the breeze today that attacked my lungs. I do experience seasonal allergies, but I have more of a spring problem than a fall one, usually. It’s hard to pin down the culprit however, since I’m not sure exactly what I am allergic to. Except for bees. And with the horrible burning wheezing pain I had today, I’m not ruling out that I could have potentially inhaled one of those suckers. Seriously, my lungs have never known such pain.

We slowed to a walk and toured the neighborhood, and on the way home my stroller wheel caught on a curb, and nearly dumped my kids face first onto the concrete. I arrived home somewhat defeated, however Logan responded with a “that was FUN Mama!” So apparently it was a fun death-defying ride (like a roller coaster, but much less safe). Two hours later my lungs still are aching, and the dog is still pouting about not getting to go, and I am blogging instead of sucking it up and doing my darn MLA citations for school. So, I will be doing all of my future jogging at the gym where my children can use Barbie as a hammer, and I don’t have to dodge crazy obstacles. Maybe I’ll start jogging outdoors again once I get a jogging stroller and a hazmat suit (just in case).

 
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Posted by on October 11, 2011 in General, Parenting

 

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