sweet stranger

today has been one of those days. the kind of day where i flipped off the flashing speed limit sign that alerted me to my 4 mile over the speed limit infraction.  dont judge.

this juvenile middle finger outburst was precipitated by a crazy morning of a crying baby serenade while trying to get the little people out the door. on the upside, i now have a few additions to my blog series, 'sidwbf' otherwise known as the 'shit i do while breast feeding'. trust me, i plan on nominating myself for some kind of shiny medal that has been wrapped around a shiny bottle of cabernet for the things i find myself doing all while keeping ace quiet, happy and fed. today, i put socks, shoes and a coat on jw while nursing and fixed gks hair. it wasnt pretty, it wasnt graceful, but it was all done in peace and blessed quiet.

i proceeded to spill my morning cup of joy all over myself rushing to the car and managed to put on my makeup in its entirety before realizing i had forgotten THE holy grail of makeup until i was done...under eye concealer...otherwise known as magic make up crack for sleep deprived eyes. if i was on a deserted island and could only have three things, im only sure one of them would be concealer, less i get rescued without it.  anyway, it was the kind of morning i wished i could do over. in slow motion and silence. once the big little people were at school, the screaming one and i headed to target. it was on our way, with coffee still pooling in my lap and baby still serenading me from the back seat that the flashing rules police got the bird.

at target i unloaded all 300 square feet and 40 lbs of gear that new moms travel with into the cart and realized the future opera singer was asleep.  thank you, Jesus.  i began to imagine how blissful and relaxing it would be to peruse aisle after aisle of crap i didnt need in sweet holy silence.

while momentarily lost in brief happy thoughts, i failed to notice the sweet sweet 85 year old lady checking out my sleeping baby, who was completely covered, in his carseat. she looked at me and saw a relaxed and happy mama, a far cry from the crazy foul gesturing mess from a moment ago and simply asked to see him. i hesitated, wondering if it was worth the risk of him waking up and i briefly considered lying and saying there wasnt any baby in the car seat, but alas i caved and lifted the flap letting all the glorious fluorescent lights of the store cover him. she smiled the kindest smile and whispered to enjoy every minute before walking slowly away with short shuffling steps.

enjoy every minute?? where was she an hour ago when i was a lactating, dark eyed, ear drums bursting mess?  i stood there for a moment and looked over at ace who was now wide awake. there was my sweet, fat, healthy baby with the bluest eyes squinting under the lights of the store and i realized in that instant, this kind woman, a total stranger reminded me to experience what i had allowed the hectic pace of my morning to rob me of. pure joy. pure gratitude. pure happiness. i have a baby. a sweet precious and healthy baby with fully developed lungs that allow him to scream healthy cries whenever he feels like it.

can i possibly enjoy every minute of every day?  nope.  i cant.  and there was the sarcastic sliver of me that wanted to chase her down when he started crying in aisle 9 just to see if she was enjoying 'every minute', but i didnt.  instead, i realized that while i dont have that drug or gene in me that allows me to exist in a permanent state of bliss, i can tread water between the waves of embracing the crazy and enduring the chaos with the constant undercurrent of love and gratitude.  that i can do.  thanks little lady.  thanks.

s.i.d.w.b.f. #1

i wish there was some uber catchy acronym for the shit i do while breast feeding. being a military wife has me completely conditioned to the need for needless acronyms. i cant help it, as much as i want to laugh at the absolute absurdity of some of the acronyms i hear on a daily basis, i have a touch of acronym envy, otherwise known as a.e. at the fact i cant come up with a clever one for the shit i do while breast feeding. one of my fave nonsensical military acronyms is tdy. it means temporary duty. im not sure why they add the 'y', but ive always thought of it as meaning 'yobyyoself' awhile. either way, i do loads of shit while nursing ace and while i would love to say 'shit' less, it is altogether fitting for this first installment of the s.i.d.w.b.f.

i was chatting with another newcomer to the 'club of three' the other day and we established we are in the midst of challenging moments more so than challenging days. the craziness comes in waves with massive undercurrents that leave me feeling like im gasping for air and being drug through razor sharp sand all the while hearing a constant litany of requests/demands by small people with big voices who incidentally have very little understanding of patience. in their defense, some of their needs are urgent and making them wait, even while im meeting the urgent needs of another, could have dire consequences for me. and really, i dont need anymore of those in my day.

the other day, after dropping gk off at her work release program (aka kindergarten), jw and i were serenaded all the way home by one screaming, hungry baby ace. i really think he is the loudest of all three of our people which is rather impressive if youve ever heard jack, the 3 year old with the voice of a 4o year old trucker, chatting up a room. lets just say his voice carries. anyway, we flew into the garage and ran out of the car like it was on fire in a rush to get inside and stop the screaming baby. as soon as we were inside, i started feeding ace and enjoying the quiet. 42 seconds later j informed me he needed to poop. great. i couldnt quit feeding ace this early into his breakfast or he and i would have both had a morning milk bath (tmi??) so i just walked with the baby and used my one free arm to hoist 38 lbs of j onto the potty all the while wondering where in the house he and his sister had left the stool that would have made this little joyful job unnecessary.

with j where he needed to be, i went back to the couch to continue feeding the baby who was somehow unfazed and oblivious to the constant movement. i swear it wasnt even 30 seconds later when j yelled he needed his bottom wiped. really. this is a task he usually handles on his own, but this morning, because the stars had all lined up just perfectly, there was apparently loads of shit everywhere and he really really really needed me. where is the awesome button? the one i get to press every time something awesome happens and at the end of the day it tallies the awesomeness and pours my glass of wine accordingly?

so, once again i trekked into the bathroom which now smelled comparable to a carnival porta potty (his voice isnt the only resemblance he has to a 40 year old trucker) and began the joyful job of wiping his rear while STILL breast feeding the baby. this is where i will spare you the majority of details except to let you know j wasnt exaggerating. he really did need me and i felt like i deserved a standing ovation, medal and shower when i emerged from the bathroom.

i didnt get any of those things, but i did get a cup of coffee and the satisfaction of knowing im capable of doing more than i originally thought to balance this blessed life with three. and at the end of the day, regardless of the 'awesome' moments tally, i would seriously not t.t.l.f.a. or trade this life for anything.

dilemma

so i know ive been incredibly lame with posting and the truth is ive simply adjusted my expectations of myself and now that i expect to never post, im feeling much much less like a failure. this is mostly for me and about me so im trying super hard to not feel guilty about dropping the blog ball. i actually do write randomly and then decide not to post it for fear of being a little too over exposed...ie, when i go off on a tangent about a 'hypothetical' situation that isnt so 'hypothetical' and even the biggest moron with an iq of a stoned sheep could connect the dots and realize in an instant i was in fact referring to an incident involving them...so, i vent, feel better and another month slips with nothing im able to share, with you that is. however, yesterday was so super fun and i just feel like its worth mentioning.

so im about a week out from having our third baby. crazy. on many many levels. the thing with me and pregnancy is i am wholly consumed with gratitude and wholly consumed with misery...i would not have believed the two could possibly coexist if i wasnt currently hanging out with both of them. in fact, i think, i may have even tried to give someone the solution to their supposed 'misery' years ago (prior to my preggo days) as trying to simply maintain a level of gratitude that doesnt allow for any misery...i was SO incredibly wise at 22. but, here i am on round three of baby growing and i couldnt be anymore thankful to have this sweet bundle of goodness coming our way in a week and couldnt be anymore ready to stop puking and feeling like total shiat most of the time.

my first two rounds in preggieville had me poppin the zofran (anti naseau tabs) for all 40 weeks and puking most days to include the morning of both inductions. this baby, who briefly achieved fcs (favored child status) gave me a much needed, much welcomed surprise when at 20 weeks, i all but quit throwing up! of course there was the occasional out of nowhere puke, but by and large, i was feeling pretty flippin okay. but then came the eye infection and return of the puke that landed me in the er and caused bleeding out my lower lid every time i threw up...i was incredibly hot, im just sayin. this was followed by this weeks first ever adult ear infection/sinus infection combo that had me crying like a three year old while holding my ear...wish i was kidding. good times.

the great news is there is an antibiotic i am taking for said sinus/ear infection...it just causes vomiting. fan freakin tab u lous. which brings me to yesterday....

yesterday i was finally feeling good enough to venture out and with baby arriving and my time of not lugging newborn with me everywhere i go running short, i headed out for some retail therapy. mainly, the makings for sugar cookies and some butt paste for baby, but whatevs, i was alone and on a mission. and hungry. i vaguely remembered someone sharing with me that mexican food causes labor and while im highly doubtful of any and all tidbits of knowledge that dont make sense, i figured it was worth a try, it sounded good and since i am totally unwilling to try any of the other helpful 'hints' that supposedly bring it on, mexican food it was. within minutes i found myself eating a chicken burrito from qdoba in my car. and within a few minutes of that i found myself over the top grateful for the plastic to go bag it came in to throw it all right back up. awesome.

and then the real dilemma began. what do you do with a large bag of vomit? i mean really. what do you do? all of the dumpsters in this incredibly busy shopping center were all prettified with gates and fences and i assume hard to figure out latches. and i couldnt very well walk into the qdoba and drop it in a trash can. i began driving around omaha feeling like i had a dead body in the car. seriously. if it were donated items, id look for a drop box. a dvd, just any old redbox would do. even with a baby for the love of pete, id know to drive to a church or fire station, but a bag of warm puke?? i had no ideas but the more i drove the more disgusted i became at the whole thing and the more i started thinking of how good my story would be if i happen to get pulled over for erratic driving...'im sorry officer, i was just looking for a perfect place to dispose of this...'

truth is, im sick of being sick and now there wasnt even a convenient place to be sick. i pulled into what i thought the best option would be...a large trashcan outside a christian book store. i hastily dropped it in, hoped for a little grace and mercy (surely they have a surplus there, right? right??) and drove away feeling like i had just robbed a bank and tossed the gun and evidence. im sure ill head back there at some point and buy something to help ease the guilt and clear my conscience of the 'treasure' i left in their trash, but for now, im going to avoid going anywhere near there and not just because it prolly stinks.

so im counting down the days for this preggie puking chapter to be behind me, all the while watching my belly dance and trying to savor every last bump, flip and roll this precious little one does because at the end of the day, the misery is totally worth being this close to a miracle...

dear crazy mamas,

i couldnt help but overhear you today, which lets be honest, was your primary goal while ranting and raving and straight up bull shitting about your sweet (someday in therapy) 4 year olds. while im not a huge fan of mindless small talk, i have occasionally struck up conversations with fellow moms (or nannies here in northern va) and found in them new friends or entertaining acquaintances. i am one of those people (blame it on the transient 'always up for meeting people because im always relatively new' military life style) who enjoys shooting the breeze with other mamas and im always thrilled to chat with someone about something other than our little people. however, you and your crazy insecure sidekicks are so over the top, i had to leave the waiting area to keep you from seeing me rolling my eyes and updating my fb status with YOU guys in it. i had the same overwhelming feeling i have when i see clearly neglected kids at walmart. i wanted to scoop up your three, destined to have issues daughters, and take them home, let them get dirty, eat sugar and NOT practice pointing their toes. you should hear yourselves...

if there had been hidden cameras and your whole bit had been a well scripted joke to gauge other peoples reactions to your ludacris chat, itd be funny. but, there were no cameras, you werent putting on a show and you were serious. crazy serious. first of all, within 4 minutes of your unnaturally high volume conversation, i knew all your kids were in private school and that the tuition, combined with your nanny was astronomical. you worked it in seamlessly, like ive always imagined i would do if i ran a marathon or the ironman. i have a feeling i would make sure everyone knew. like if someone asked me how i was doing today, i might answer, 'great. a whole lot better than i was doing during mile 26 of my marathon two years ago.' or if they asked what i was having for dinner, i might answer, 'something low in carbs. nothing like the pasta i put down the night before my iron man.' im telling you, i could totally see myself awkwardly working my ginormous accomplishment into every conversation whether it fit or not. which is why, its painfully obvious outside your weird circle that you are awkwardly working EVERY detail of your 'accomplished' high rent life into every single conversation.

seriously, the subject of weather comes up and you mention how your hummer handles the snow while dropping your kids off at the private school (that naturally doesnt provide transportation...the nerve) and how your kids are driving you bananas because their traveling gymnastics team that typically occupies 8+ hours a week of your 4 year olds life has cancelled practice along with her piano lessons. how are you surviving these long days with your own kid?? must be horrible. when the subject of the upcoming recital came up, you rolled your eyes in disgust at how ill prepared your child is because you cant get her to practice at home. holy batshit batman, shes FOUR. and perhaps shes a little pooped out trying to keep up with the insanely full schedule you have her on.

so basically, this week, im letting you know that the next time you say something super crazy, im prolly gonna call you on it. and your two equally unstable, envious friends who happily one up each other throughout your conversation will prolly talk about me later. who knows, maybe ill make their facebook status too. i dont really care. you guys are crazy. i feel sorry for your precious girls and i hope at some point you like yourself enough to quit projecting this level of crazy on your kids.

thanks for listening. i feel soooo much betta after allowing my passive aggressive side to vent awhile.

jimmy dean

i have always had sausage fingers. regardless of weight or size, my fingers have always resembled a nice collection of 10 sausage links in varying lengths. in hawaii, after an evening of grilling out with great friends and probably a few great drinks, one of my friends found out that my middle name (prior to me getting hitched and making my maiden name part of the deal) was for the vast majority of my life 'dean'. as in katherine dean. as in katie dean. as in of course (how the hell could i have missed the obvious correlation my entire life) katie dean sausage. fingers that is. trust me when i tell you that in order for you to get the heelariousness of this night, you did have to be there preferably with a slight buzz and a front row seat to frank (the friend) giving out his best katie dean sausage fingers commercials. they were funny. i laughed. i still laugh every time i think of it. what made it funny was a combination of many things, but what made it super funny to me was that it was just my fingers. wouldnt have been so funny if it had been 'katie dean sausage body'.

which leads me to my recent journey through the trenches of hell known as swimsuit shopping. two things i know i should have done more of before having kids (which incidentally i didnt figure out until after having them. (thats fairly typical of my luck and judgment) 1. sky diving (once was not enough) and 2. bikini wearing. yes, i wore them. a lot. always under the constant self loathing that bookended my bikini esteem from ages 14 to 28. i see pictures now of those days that had me hating my body and am saving them for my plastic surgeon for what i want my after pictures to look like. i would no more put on a bikini today than attempt to do math in public. im not putting my kids through it (seriously, your kids do not want their mom rocking a bikini) and im really not willing to put myself through it. but alas, who really loves their body in a bikini and more importantly who wants to be around someone who does? ill take self deprecating friend time on the beach any day over 'happy to be in my body' banter. like thats fun.

anywho, i decided it was time to add to my swimwear wardrobe this spring. when i originally ventured out in february, i put on a suit and immediately thought, 'okay, this is way too soon. clearly im still winterized', must wait until spring. but we all know that the early bird gets the worm or in my case, the reluctant winterized shopper will at least get sizes other than 2 and 16 to choose from. part of my problem (which i assure you is vast) is i have not committed a day in advance to this endeavor. its always grabbing a few minutes of time to try something on and then realizing it doesnt work. if i had a day in mind, i could at least go tanning (spray on, mom, i promise) and of course a 24 hour fast wouldnt hurt either, but these few minutes here and there with kids with me is not conducive to swimsuit shopping success. take last week for example when i had jack with me at an unnamed store. i grabbed a few options that involved mini swim skirts (the lamest attempt ever to make a 'mom' suit sexy) and halter tops. i also grabbed a box of yogurt covered raisins to keep jack happy. while stripping down to swimsuit attire, i noticed jack was now eating the raisins off the floor. thats dirty. and awesome because i would need to make a large deposit to his future therapy fund if he were actually paying attention to his half naked crazy mother frantically tugging and tying and turning around. which i should not have done. things werent awesome from the front, but really, a 3 way mirror in a dressing room?? shouldnt those only be in the common dressing area, as in youd have to really want to see yourself from 3 angles to do it? why are they forcing reflections of myself on me id rather not see right there in the dressing room? i made a mental note to fill out a customer service card, just a simple suggestion of removing the 3 way mirrors when the swimwear arrives would be sufficient. while staring at myself in disgust, jack thankfully broke the mood with the pin cushion. as in he found it somehow between fistfuls of dirty raisins and was now beginning to put the pin in his mouth. so, i moved in quickly and saved the boy from the choking hazard. i did nothing about the dirty raisins. i decided to call this a wasted day and started getting dressed. i was between the swimsuit and my clothing (that brief minute when you can think of nothing other than the comfort of your own clothes that fit and hide hail damage) when jack opened the dressing room door. thank you, jack. now im naked and horrified. what a great combo. in one seamless move jack was tossed and the door was closed, with a barricade of me preventing any future public exposure.

we left that wonderful 3 way mirror, pin cushion, lever handle door knobs store and came home. which was awesome because my $400 lands end order was waiting on the steps! yay! i had been assured by several very reliable sources that lands end was made for moms and grandmas and all varieties of women who need some bathing suit help (which i find somewhat deceiving because none of their models need any help, but whatever). apparently, they have an insane amount of spandex (which i always thought i should avoid, but supposedly, when in a suit, it has a less trashy scary look and manages to hold you in) it sounded altogether magical. i have never in my life been in such a hurry to go through the hell of putting on a suit, but with the lands end package in hand, i felt my luck was changing. ill say right now, dont take me to vegas. i put that spandex filled contraption on and looked. and stared. i look like something...something familiar, wait for it...oh, clearly, i looked like a sausage in casing. a big katie dean sausage. you have got to be kidding me. am i really the one person in the world who cant even wear a lands end suit? i have already returned all but one of them. the one i kept is really not good. add in what i paid for it and its down right ridiculous, but im not giving up or giving in. i am keeping this casing until i look great in it or find something else. im ordering from athleta this week...ill keep you posted.

**it happens

normally i avoid poop stories. mostly because there is still a part of me left from my childhood that would like to pretend no one poops. im sure it stems in part from growing up in a house with 3 girly girls living in it and no place for bathroom humor. i didnt know poop could be funny until i met pat and then of course his sister who is a total girl and can still find bathroom humor somewhat entertaining. and while i continue to avoid most conversations that center around poop, lately its becoming unavoidable.

i find it truly amazing what motherhood will do with an aversion to poop. she comes in with this bundle of joy and then all but immerses you in a sea of sh**. it starts with seemingly harmless poop that barely exists and is mostly scent free. and then of course before you know it, you are changing the diapers of a manchild who eats everything you eat and the nasty grows. then theres potty training (which for me was pretty uneventful the first time around which all but guarantees a multitude of poop issues the second time around) and then the announcements from the backseat of, 'i have to poop. a little, but please hurry' or while at the playground you suddenly find yourself leaving one child in the care of total strangers to take the other child into the woods to poop by the old oak tree.

and if not for the 24 hour span i recently experienced, i might be able to let this post pass, but as one who has just had the poopscapades ive had, i just have to share. you can thank me later.

on wednesday while hosting some of the coolest people in the world for their visit to d.c., we were all doing our part in helping me get the peach to preschool. we'd had a lazy morning of coffee drinking and talking and before i knew it i had exactly 7 minutes to get georgia to school. which was awesome because we were all still in our jammies. i began flying around upstairs disguising my lack of hygiene with a hat and spackling on some under eye concealer to trick people into thinking id had a lot more sleep than the few hours i really had. gk was in her room independently getting herself ready when i heard a blood curdling scream from her bathroom. i went running, as any semi responsible mama would and found her pants down, crap smeared self standing next the toilet. i said, 'sweetie, WHAT is the matter???' to which she answered, 'my brother did THIS!' and pointed into the potty. i hadnt even noticed jdub standing there until that moment. but just as she said, there he was, with a fistful of her necklaces looking into the poop filled potty. apparently, hed bum rushed the toilet, knocked her off and thrown something of value into the now crowded toilet. when i looked down, i could see what was freaking her out. the FREE plastic necklace shed picked out at the doctors office eons ago was now at the bottom of the toilet. everything in me wanted to 'accidentally' flush and move on, but i knew if it got stopped up, id have to admit to patrick (who is no plumber) that i had in fact, lazily chosen to take my chances and flush the necklace/poop combo. crap. so, i did what any sleep deprived, rushed mother of two who has become so desensitized to things that just a few short years ago would have had me gagging or hiring help to take care of. i reached in and grabbed that piece of crap necklace, flushed the poop, cleaned the toilet and the peach and began sanitizing all surfaces. and we were only 4 minutes late for school.

this should be the end of the story or at least the end of the poop story, but shock of all shocks, it isnt. i had around 24 hours to recover from the trauma of 'operation crappy jewelry' before experiencing poopscapade numero dos.

gk has had a cough for weeks. long enough for me to dismiss the 'its just a cold' theory and long enough for me to take her to the doctor for real meds. unfortunately, real meds have real side effects. some of you mamas are already tracking. that little miracle antibiotic, augmentin, is good for two things: curing what ever ails you and causing insane amounts of poop.

day 1 on the augmentin:: 'mooooooom, i need you, i had an accident.' i was sluggish to respond. mostly because she hasnt had an accident in many many months and even more so because i was chatting with my mom on the phone. i casually walked over to the bathroom and said something along the lines of 'mom, i gotta go, theres poop EVERYWHERE'. click.

and there was. the toilet, the floor, the door, the door knob, the rug, the peach. everywhere. seriously? apparently the antibiotic was doing wonders for her cough and her intestines. nice. so, we cleaned, cloroxed and sanitized all appropriate floors, knobs and surfaces. this was a scene that would repeat itself on a much smaller scale no less than 3 more times that day. three. (arent you thrilled im not sharing those details?) during the clean up of the first disaster, jdub managed to climb on top of the dining room table and fall off. fortunately his fall was broken by one of the chairs (weak silver lining, i know). at some point (although i barely remember it) i called patrick at work and gave him a run down of my morning on his voice mail. i must have sounded pathetic enough to land some serious sympathy points because he arrived home that night with the prettiest box of chocolates ive ever seen.

im hoping this is the last chapter in my long list of poopscapades, but with two little people in the house that continue to eat, i highly doubt this is the end of it. good times. please feel free to share any of your poopscapades, now that i get bathroom humor and know whats funny, id love to hear them. cheers to motherhood and her very dry sense of humor.

dear mr. bobcat man,

okay, so i may need to apologize for a brief minute. you see, today, when i looked out my window and saw you maneuvering the coolest piece of machinery ive seen in a long time, i was in awe of you. (and while im no machinery expert, im guessing the bobcat you were driving has to be the coolest mini dozer in all the land). i came running out to ask you to remove some snow from behind one of our cars and i totally chickened out. yes, that was me, running to you and then running away. i then came in the house to send out my super cool hubby to ask what i was unable to ask. he, being a guy, was totally impressed but not awe struck (although he did compare you to a super hero once you left). i just want to say thank you. thank you for removing the 7 foot pile of snow from behind our weak sauce vw which would be going nowhere until spring if not for you and your amazing side kick, super bob the bobcat. i brought you coke, beer and offered hot chocolate. i would have invited you in for dinner, but something inside me (perhaps that rare logical side of me that occasionally emerges) helped me control myself.

you are amazing. you have freed our car, our afternoon and renewed my faith in our home owners association. you prevented me from keeping vigil in our one clear space to keep lazy neighbors from swiping it. inevitably you prevented a weak suburban type brawl all with your snow moving skillz. you have made me want to invest in a bobcat for the once in a millenium blizzard just for the once in a lifetime experience of feeling the glory of being you, super hero bobcat man.

and its super bowl sunday. how cool is that? you get to be the hero of one of the greatest battles of man vs nature on the same day every man, woman and child will be watching another legendary, history making game. well, i for one, mr. bobcat man, will remember you far longer than ill remember the superbowl champs.

so forgive me for being an over zealous fan, but seriously, as one incredibly observant husband commented as you so humbly drove away, 'that guy just saved our bacon.' thanks, mr bobcat man for saving the bacon and so much more. you are the superbowl champion of snowpocolypse 2010.

awwww. kward

im sorry in advance for this post. a) it wont be that good b) its a little gross c) i wish i had something else to blog about, but as this incident and accompanying images from it is seared in my mind, my hope is that once i have purged it here for you, i may be able to release myself from its memory. at least thats the goal.

i have become a legit, completely committed gym person. it is no longer my matchy matchy attire that keeps me going nor the excuses for new running shoes, but rather the hour plus of alone time (i completely tune out any and all other people there) that i am able to spend by myself watching sportscenter on my treadmill or listening to 'katies groove' on my ipod (which consists of everything from coldplay to outkast to kenny chesney). i love my gym time. i love going, i love running and lifting and getting a great workout in on a regular basis. let me clarify really quick here for those of you that know me and are wondering who took over my mind that once lived by the clear mantra of 'dont run unless someones chasing you' and 'i hate exercise so much id drive to the bathroom if i could', i assure you i have not become one of THOSE people. you know, the weird runners high crew who really do love running as much as they love cheesecake. i promise you, i still love cheesecake more. i have simply come to value the time it gives me with my thoughts to burn a few calories. however, last week i was traumatized.

my locker room at the gym is quaint (read small) with numerous 3 foot benches strewn about bolted securely to the floor in front of lockers. there is never more than 5 people in the locker room at one time. ever. and i like my privacy. i like showering at home with closed doors and yummy soap and the lack of athletes foot on my tiles. i like fluffy towels and clean steamy mirrors. my gym has none of these, which is why i save my naked time for home. i wish more people did. not that im bothered by naked strangers around me, but seriously, towels, people, towels. the other night after running for an hour i retreated to the locker room to lay on a bench and drink my water. the split second between sitting on the bench and laying down was just enough time for g.i. body builder jane to swoop over to my bench and have a seat on the other end. with a whole 18 inches between us, i was anxious for her to get dressed or find her towel, but whatever. it was at this moment i decided it would be more awkward for me to move to another bench and make jane uncomfortable. wouldnt want to make anyone uncomfortable, would we?? so i sat. and focused on my hydrating. and then she started stretching. stretching. as in yoga on MY bench NAKED. really? still no towel available, jane? or maybe that bench right over there with no one on it would work? why is this bench with awkward me now so focused on my water bottle i think i could light it on fire with just my concentration so appealing? and why wouldnt you take advantage of those awesome mats out in the gym conveniently there for you guessed it, stretching? why must you be here so close to me and so naked that im now wishing i was anywhere else...you know so this wouldnt be so awkward? apparently, jane couldnt hear me thinking so the stretching continued for quite some time (like most wonderfully pleasant situations) before i casually got up and exited stage right.

and i do still love my gym time and i dont mind my locker room time, but the towels need to be bigger and mandatory and the benches need to be smaller and made for one, preferably non stretching person. and perhaps under all the signs of 'cell phone use prohibited' and 'towels only, please' there could be just one more, 'no naked stretching on benches, please'. i feel better already. thanks for letting me purge.

almost right

so today, while attempting to call my brilliant and talented friend, natalie, i relied heavily on my crazy good memory. i recalled her digits from deep within the depths of my tired mind...a number i had not dialed in over 2 years (because im THAT awesome at keeping in touch). often wrong but never in doubt (as my incredibly perceptive dad likes to point out), i dialed. ring ring. ring ring. so a few more rings later and the voicemail kicks in. this message was so outlandishly stupid with the thickest, weirdest accent and strangest names imaginable, that i, remembering natalies adorable sense of humor, proceeded to ramble on a 5 minute message. no joke. of course i mentioned the 'clever' voice mail message noting the weird accent (afterall, she lives in south dakota) among other numerous details of my life before laughing once again at her creativity with the voicemail and finally hanging up. a few minutes passed when i thought to 'double check' my crazy good recall skillz with my contacts list. yes, i had her number in my contacts all along, but my phone was charging and i was so very sure of myself. blah blah blah. once i checked the number (merely for some ego stroking affirmation) i realized i was off by one number. just one. but...we all know thats really all it takes, right? so im waiting for freak show voicemail people to call me back anytime. ill keep you posted. sometimes i really impress myself with the level of dumb i somehow reach. good job, katie, that memory is almost as awesome as your judgment.

thanks peach

i can always count on georgia to lighten my mood. always. except between the hours of midnight and 6 am at which time my mood is on 'irritated' if im awake regardless of who you are. last week as a result of a routine check up at the eye doctors and not so routine appointment at the pediatricians office for 14 consecutive days of green snot, we were booked for both appointments with an hour and half between them. so doable, but not so much fun as i have become completely insane with the kids touching things in public places (i blame the media for my swine flu paranoia) and i have taken to hand sanitizing them at minute intervals in every waiting area imaginable. first up was the eye doctor where we were quickly ushered back from the waiting area with windows and armchairs (and finding nemo on the tv) into the dimly lit exam room with thousands of dollars of breakable eye equipment and one big chair that incidentally goes up and down if you dance around the pedals long enough. not a huge deal, we were after all the first appointment past the lunch hour (score!) and both kiddos are typically pretty awesome at this kind of thing. pretty awesome for awhile. not so awesome for an HOUR. no joke.

within the hour, we had successfully given the exam room an extreme kid makeover complete with 233 cheerios on the floor, an elmo phone, a sippy cup and several pacis, all of which i was picking up, wiping off and handing back to the bored lump while simultaneously trying to pick up the shower of cheerios and hide the evidence we had broken the absurd 'please no eating and drinking in exam room' rule. i was mildly distracted (read all but standing on my head to keep jack happy) when gk gets my attention with, 'mommy, the chair is way up high.' why yes it was. way up. as in i thought we may have broken it for a brief minute until gk showed me how to make it come down. apparently we had been in there long enough for her to learn the ropes on some of the equipment. im guessing a few more minutes and she could have given herself, jack and i all a thorough eye exam. so, an hour into it with me now sweating and swaying with the 25 lb jack in my arms while ripping open every fruit snack in my purse in an attempt to make all the eye crap seem less tempting to the peach, id had enough. as in...so sick of practicing my patience i could just about scream. and then i made a huge mistake. i opened the door. the one that they close immediately after putting you in there. the one that provides a layer of protection between you and them when youve had enough of the insane wait time. the one that offers an element of privacy and mystery while your left there to simply check your watch and count the minutes until you hear the footsteps finally stop outside your door and the chart finally get picked up and then...then the door knob turns and you are seen at last!! well...i opened the door. when my look of 'please help me, im dying in here with the little people' didnt get anyones attention, i started walking down the hall toward the waiting area. i had the appearance of someone just venturing off a deserted island where there was plenty to eat but the conditions were brutal. as we turned the corner into the bright shiny happy waiting area that now smelled like freedom, gk yelled, 'they have nemo out here!'. yes, gk, they do. but we have a really expensive chair that goes up and down...isnt that fun?

at this point there is no one heading my way with a life boat or cocktail and i reluctantly head back to the exam room where we happen to pass the good doctors office. where his door is open. where he is on the phone. scheduling a TEE TIME for the upcoming weekend. it is on. we get back to the cell and wait another five minutes until the doctor finally joins us. he was so chipper, probably imagining the fun hed have on the course in a few quick days while we on the other hand were now resembling survivors of some horrible experiment where they put you in a room full of germs and crap that could cost you money if you break it with little light and nothing to do with small children by yourself for over an hour. and for added fun, they add in loads of snot dripping from the children. nice. anywho i explain in the nicest tone i could find (which is always fast and unnaturally high pitched when im hiding my livid side) to the tiger woods wannabe that i would love to chat but we now had 15 minutes to make it to our next appointment to check on ear infections, pneumonia and other fun stuff. he kindly rushed through his exam, kept the dumb jokes to a minimum and assured us the peach is doing quite well. as he was turning to leave he tells gk 'goodbye' at which time she says, 'goodbye. now we're going to see the REAL doctor.' he mentions that he is in fact a doctor. she laughs. literally laughs and says, 'no, i mean the doctor doctor. the one who makes me feel better.' normally i would have corrected her. normally i would have fallen over myself with some witty explanation. not after an hour. nope. this time we just left it like that and headed toward freedom on the outside of the exam room.

the perfect time

so ive been waiting for the perfect time to blog. to throw something out there that might let all 4 of you know at least one of the countless blog worthy experiences ive had over the last 6 weeks. let me know if you figure out when the perfect time is. as of right now, i have laundry in the dryer, laundry on my dining room table, a baby covered (its even in his ears) in pasta sauce and a 3 year old spinning in circles until she falls down (at which time she sheds a quick tear, grabs a boo boo buddy and begins the process over again...the intellectual curve is beginning to even out). from where im typing i can see no less than 3 dust bunnies, a to do list that now includes showering and a menu for thanksgiving that needs some tweeking. ive got $100 for the first person that can cross my living room floor without tripping, falling or slipping on any number of choking hazards laying around left by two very inquisitive children...who prefer taking EVERY item they own out first and THEN deciding which ones they dont want to play with...preferring instead to head butt furniture and empty kitchen cabinets. so the perfect time continues to elude me, one minute, one day and finally one month at a time.

and its not that i dont have something brilliant to share (although that information is unfortunately jammed between the song 'i know an old lady who swallowed a fly' and the adorable ring i noticed on the receptionist yesterday that i keep thinking ive seen somewhere before) its just the ongoing dilemma of finding the time and then of course finding the words to tell you about it. on a side note, i have no clue as to what the hell that old lady swallowed except for the fly and while that in and of itself shouldnt have killed her, georgia has been requesting (badgering, nagging, demanding) we discover every possible thing she could have swallowed. i suggested we start and end with an elephant...making for a sure death and quick song, but ive now heard her rattle off no less than 15 different objects that old lady could have swallowed. and i digress.

i once thought id write in the morning but unfortunately as one who cant even speak well before 10 and a pot of coffee, i quickly realized the coordination to type and or think is not accessible in the early hours. the truth is that now my eldest child has begun boycotting naps and my youngest has begun training as a professional wrestler (complete with diving leaps off of furniture and head butting his sister), ive needed to be on my A game when it comes to parenting during the waking hours. and then of course the night time rolls around and while i consider myself a night owl, im more of the owl that enjoys chilling on the branch relaxing rather than hunting around full speed in the sky.

so there hasnt been time and really i havent made time. the time i have has been spent loving on my little people. wiping noses, folding tiny clothes and soaking up as many crisp fall days at the park as possible. although, now that i know the high chair works to prevent injuries to the little one and really, how dangerous is spinning and falling...i may have a plan shaping up to carve out the perfect time.

the not so great outdoors

let me start by admitting in complete and total honesty im a total poser when i appear to be enjoying myself in the great outdoors. i own northface and merrells. i can rock nothing but chapstick for a day or two and ive been known to take a shower with nothing but a few baby wipes, but i pretty much hate every second of it. its not my thing. sure, i have romanticized the crap out of the IDEA of camping...campfires, shooting stars, crisp mountain top sunrises with nothing but the birds keeping me company. the problem is the reality of it...bug bites, crappy coffee, a hard ground, gear to haul around like mules, limited wardrobe changes, non existent shower facilities (and let me just say right here for you crazy 'oh there are campgrounds with showers and bathrooms...i say boo to you...really? i know theyre not clean, and while running water may constitute a shower to you, i require a bit more, like steaming hot water, clean tiles and soap that smells good enough to snack on). and of course theres the beginning of time dilemma of where and how do you pooh in the woods...and why of course you cant pooh for days on a camping trip. ah yes. and tava, we cant all have fifth wheels. soooo, back to why camping sucks and more importantly why its on the brain tonight...

i once thought patrick and i should go camping and like all new ideas of mine, i got overly excited and eager about the accessorizing part. i spent loads of time researching tents, perusing up and down aisles everywhere from rei to target wondering what the perfect tent would look like for us. thank God i had the opportunity to go camping in a tee pee in aspen for a few days because i immediately realized that our perfect tent looked identical to a room at the hilton. there were porta potties (which are really just little caves i refer to as hell deterrents as i imagine hell is one big giant porta potty that everyone in hell has to use and spend all their time next to) and sleeping bags and of course baby wipes. it was a fabulous opportunity to spend time with amazing students and it saved patrick and i a boatload of money because if it wasnt for that trip we would be the proud owners of all things camp like and it would all be brand spankin new.

needless to say, our sweet kids will get their love of the outdoors from some other people which remain unknown to us at this current time because we pretty much roll with people like us. however, this week i did have a brief opportunity to share with georgia a camping experience. on our way home from running errands, i, in an attempt to reward some outstanding behavior suggested we travel to a new playground. one far from our house and in the woods. brilliant. we arrived at the hidden playground to find one mama watching over her 4 year old little boy climbing on the slide. georgia was thrilled, i was thrilled. fast forward 20 minutes into our excursion. other mama and i have made enough small talk that i know she is tired and relieved to have 2 of her 3 boys in school while monkey child hangs and swings from every piece of playground equipment. jack is happily swinging in the swing and the peach is enjoying the tunnel slide. all is well. at this time the peach mentions, 'mommy, i have to go potty'. i said, 'okay, no big deal. lets pack up and go home and i promise we can come back later today or another day.' to which my natural born used car salesman replies, 'actually, i really dont have to go.' fast forward 48 seconds....'mommy, actually, i have to go poop and i have to go right now.'

several things flashed through my mind and i was left with only one choice. i looked to the other mama and said something like, 'can you make sure no one takes my baby from the swing while i take my daughter to poop in the woods?' these are words i really never thought id utter and yet, here i was, leaving my infant in the care of a stranger to take my peach into the woods to poop. i hate camping. once in the woods, the ever inquisitive georgia asked, 'what do i do?' to which i answered, 'well, honey, you just poop. right here. under this lovely tree.' she looked at me like she was waiting for me to say just kidding. when i didnt, she said, 'well, i guess im fine with that.' so she pooped. and of course she wanted toilet paper. geez, georgia, right now toilet paper and some hand sanitizer would really make my day too, but what we have is a leaf, so here you go. double eww. at this point all i wanted was a hot shower in my clean bathroom with this whole disgusting experience behind me. so we headed back to the swings to find jack happily, obliviously swinging. he was laughing at us like, 'i get to poop on myself. its so much easier.' i thanked stranger lady profusely for preventing any abduction of the lump and we called it a day. and while im no camper, the peach may just be...on the way home i overheard her talking to her baby doll and it went something like this...'so, baby, one day when youre big like me, you can poop in the woods too. its really pretty cool.' ugh.

hodgepodge

every now and then i have a few things to share...some isolated incidents that are worth mentioning. and while none of them on their own is worthy of an entire post, when combined, i think they just might be. first of all, i just spent a wonderful weekend in williamsburg, va with my 3 college roomies. i took away a few things from the 24 hours spent together drinking wine and reliving days that are further behind us than any of us would really like to admit. williamsburg really is a nice little city full of pancake houses and historical reenactments. woo. instead of getting our history swagger on, we opted for laser tag, a visit to the winery and a record trip down to a bar on the one hip strip in the burg. laser tag:: super fun. ive played before and had a great time, but this time was even more fun thanks to the group of 15 8 year old boys out for blood. at one point one of them yelled at me when i missed an open shot on my best friend (on the opposing side) by screaming, 'shes blue shes BLUE!!! this isnt boys against girls, lady, its red AGAINST BLUE!!'. awesome. gotta love that enthusiasm. at that moment i was relieved that we werent in real combat (hed clearly be way too trigger happy) and of course that i have a son who i hope to one day have running around with guns yelling at random strangers with the same adrenaline filled conviction.

also, i know williamsburg isnt that southern by southerners standards, but seriously...i have a suggestion for all of you southern drivers on the highway....are you listening? rain is not the same as ice and you are not driving sugar cubes. please stop flicking boogers on my happy place behind the wheel and proceed at the speed you were just lollygagging at prior to raindrops falling on your windshield. this is not dangerous. this is not reckless. it is actually keeping you safer because those of us just passing through are raging at your sudden braking over the precipitation.

after spending the afternoon and night at the winery, we were tired and thankful for malena, our rockstar server who not only gave us great service with free wine and cookies, but also safely delivered us all back to our hotel when our lame cabbie never showed. at this point we all wanted to put on fat pants and relax in our room. that would make sense. but like a group of convicts just escaped from prison, we didnt want to waste even a minute of our precious freedom. so we boarded the bus to abilene, called another cab and ventured downtown with some nice turkish driver from istanbul here on a student visa at william & mary. i know you dont care, but being the big loser that i am, and having just watched patrick spend an entire year working on his thesis on muslim extremists, i was actually really curious to know what this guy thought of the terror threats abroad, specifically the extremist views in his home country of turkey. thank goodness i had a fleeting moment of situational awareness and simply shut up and color. i find it thoroughly amusing that my situational awareness on my girls night out now keeps me from chatting up the cab driver with current topics as opposed to other things. lets just say we've come a long long way.

once comfortably seated on high barstools created for the arse of a 12 year old, we promptly ordered waters and some bar food. this began the 30 minute litany of complaints and criticisms of our server by each of us. he was rude, rushed, didnt make small talk and rarely visited our table. hmmm. after a brief moment of clarity it occured to me it could be because we are at a BAR....ordering WATER....with a server who is serving, bartending and probably trying to pick up the table of COLLEGE chicks over there. im going to go out on a flimsy limb here, but i think we could finally be moving beyond this stage of our life at last. i mean really, when our topic of conversation at a bar revolves solely around our crappy service, we may be out of our zone. so we ate our crappy food, drank our tap water and called mr. istanbul to pick us up. home sweet home by 11, just in time to catch 9 hours of sleep before hitting a pancake house. an altogether great weekend with the best of friends. and no rain on the way home. perfect.

7 am

patrick made coffee this morning as he has done countless mornings before. its not that im incapable (i did make it yesterday with jack on my hip, trying to feed him a bottle with one hand without dropping the holy grail of brew with the other), its just that its hard to make coffee when i havent had any yet. my judgment is blurred, my reflexes nonexistent, my ability to speak temporarily unavailable. yesterday was a perfect example...who really tries to hold a baby and a bottle in one hand and a huge pot of coffee in the other?? someone who is clearly not yet awake and is in desperate need of the bean, willing to risk dropping the baby or the coffee in a crazy attempt at multi tasking. my sister in law lisa, (who btw is full of valuable tidbits and insights that you actually WANT to hear) once wisely summed up new parenthood as not really that difficult. i mean really, how hard is it to keep a newborn (lets throw in colic free) baby happy? its not. but doing it with 2-4 hours of sleep...thats hard. im figuring out slowly but surely its always the factor you didnt think of that makes tasks the most challenging. like navigating your way via taxi with a significant language barrier between you and cabbie. and in my case and my days as of late, its the fatigue factor.


im blaming most of my fatigue on georgia who continues to summon us to her room at all hours of the night for the most obscure reasons. a few nights back she, in a rare switch that had me smiling, called for her DADDY at the top of her lungs. when he got to her room, he immediately scolded her, 'georgia, why are you yelling like that??' to which she replied, '2 things, daddy. 1, i love you. 2, could you please put my blankie back on me?' good thing hed done his stretches that day, otherwise it would have been difficult for him to wrap himself entirely around her little finger. im also blaming shark week on the discovery channel which i cannot seem to pull myself away from regardless of the predictability (of course the guy talking on camera didnt get eaten by a great white shark unless hes giving the interview in the afterlife) or the hour to which it lasts (most recently to midnight).

and ive always been a night person, able and eager to spin my wheels at all hours of the night but im realizing as of late that the little people have not only their dads amazing blue eyes but his inexplicable internal alarm clock as well. and this, in a horrifyingly unfair twist of fate, has my night owl self being beat down by the morning people in the house. i have always reserved early mornings for God and birds, neither of which needed my attention during those sleeping hours. but now...well, now theres God and birds and children, who incidentally do need my attention at all hours. so im thankful that some sleepy ancient incans or mayans or egyptians or some other 'ans' discovered the magical bean and then had the idea to grind it up, heat it up and drink it. i imagine with so few interesting things going on back then and so few tasty beverage choices, they really persevered with the coffee idea. and im so glad they did. and that while my husband is annoyingly chipper in the morning, hes also wonderfully capable and willing to brew the best pot of pure joy imaginable. im off to refill.

save second base

so this is one of my best friends, amy and i on the morning of the race for the cure. she is easily the most highly motivated person i know, always up for challenging herself and more than willing to find a few ways to challenge those around her (fortunately, not in that annoyingly overzealous way like richard simmons). years ago amy and suzy (who im sure ive mentioned on here before) ran a race in honor of my beautiful mama and her victory over breast cancer. since that time patrick has run one as well and yet, i, being reluctant to take on any real commitment to fitness in my life continued to watch the races come and go, reminding me just how much i wanted to participate, but never actually doing it. with my new goals in place i figured this was the year to finally run the race for the cure. its now been 13 years since my mom completed her last chemo treatment and the race was long overdue. this became THE year when amys amazing mother was diagnosed and began bravely battling breast cancer as well.

i cant help but feel like my moms cancer was a defining moment in my own life. At 18 in my first year of college while happily occupying the center of my own universe, i remember feeling invincible one minute and gripped with an all consuming fear the next. i attempted to make incredible deals with an incredible God always under the guise of 'if only You will take this from her, i will do (insert completely outlandish and impossible promise)'. at the time i remember feeling completely out of control and desperate, unable to shake the reality that there was absolutely nothing i could do to shape or shift the outcome of this reckless, indifferent and unsympathetic opponent. in an instant, i became the smallest and weakest person i knew on my knees begging God to just listen to me. to simply hear my cries and feel my overwhelming need for more time with my best friend. fortunately for me, who had laid out every possible promise to live an altogether perfect life rivaling that of mother theresa, in order to have my mothers life spared, God isnt really into deals. what He gives and what He takes away is not determined by my ability to emphatically beg, plead and promise.

after months of recovery, chemo and sickness, the prayers of anyone and everyone who has ever met my mother were answered and she was still with us. there will always be life before cancer and life after cancer in my mind. it completely shifted the terms in which i view life, the sacredness and joy of it as well as the potential brevity and injustice of it. before cancer i knew my mother was beautiful and kind, warm and patient, gentle and loving. i knew she embodied contentment and joy and had given me a glimpse into the kind of mother i hoped to be someday. after cancer i learned that in addition to what i knew to be true of her before, that she was also the strongest person i had ever known. and brave. and courageous. and hopeful and faithfilled and optimistic and unbelievably grateful. i remember her calming my fears and attempting to steady a foundation that i could feel shaking under me by reassuring me that 'if this cancer was the most challenging thing we ever faced as a family we were incredibly blessed.' and that the same God who was in control yesterday when life was cancer free is the same God in control today battling with us. these words and the loving wisdom that poured freely from them gave my weak and trembling soul hope. the kind of hope that was able to sustain me as i watched the chemo wreak havoc on her already sick body. the kind of hope that comforted me in the quiet moments of solitude when the tangible feeling of doubt surrounded me. she has always painted the future with broad strokes of hope and it is what i believe kept all of us looking ahead with the same optimism and faith in spite of the difficult journey.

it was during her months of chemotherapy that i began to see another hero emerge in my life. my father had always been brave and strong, honorable and wise, a man with conviction and integrity. and yet as i watched him stand along side her, sometimes with the strength of his love and commitment holding her up, i began to witness a love and adoration i didnt know could exist. i saw what for better or worse looked like, what in sickness and in health could mean. it was painful and exhausting, its toll brutal and yet, it was and is the most beautiful love i have ever seen. my parents get commitment and i am eternally grateful for the living example of it and for the profound impact it has left on my life and the legacy that will be passed on and on. and i wouldnt wish this disease on anyone. i would fall to me knees in an instant in prayers for you and yours to overcome this ugly threat and yet, it was through this unbearable disease that i came to see the entirety of the two most amazing people in the world, each possessing the strengths of the other and trusting in the same power of the same God regardless of the day.

so i ran. and ran. and ran. for you, mom. and for you, debby. and ill run again...to save second base, to save the ta tas, to find a cure and to hopefully spread hope in the meantime as i run in honor of you, mom, with your name proudly on my back.

decisions decisions

let me throw out this quick disclaimer...after a month of craziness (busy in a good way) i have had zero time to blog. when i finally did squeeze in a few minutes my flippin blog deleted my post as i was posting it. therefore, as this is my second go at this post, there may some additional cynicism accompanying it. i am bitter to say the least that i lost my first post when spare time is the hottest and rarest commodity in my life right now. that being said, i recently had a big decision to make...one that had me weighing pros and cons, doing quick checks of the finances and discussing time management (or my lack there of) with patrick. i was weighing the option of hiring a housekeeper (how i long for korea days with ms.hong drying my jeans on high heat and waking gk with the unbelievably LOUD noise of the plastic bag that carried her dust rags), joining a massage club (a little weird and self indulgent, but SO tempting after gamal, the wonder egyptian gave me a fab massage recently) and finally a gym membership. what i wanted most was a couple of hours a month with gamal....where i wouldnt be thinking of the laundry that needed to be done or the muscle buried far below the layers of flub gamal was massaging. ive decided to work my way backwards...starting with the fat and working my way to the housekeeper and finally the reward of a massage club someday. however, in order for me to fully embrace the gym membership, i had to come to terms with several key issues and move beyond them.

i am certifiable when it comes to working out and dieting. i admit it. it has been a cycle of sorts over the course of the last 15 years that has drug me through bouts of self loathing and tendencies toward the extreme. of course 15 years ago i was trying to be a size 2-4...that would now only be achievable if i were willing to have one leg amputated and wear the size 2 jeans on my remaining limb and even those better be stretch denim. i realized in a moment of rare clarity that i have to completely change my perspective on the entire way ive been approaching this aspect of my life. for the life of me i cannot understand why being content with my body is so damn elusive...i am truly content in every other venue of my life with the exception of this. i find it horribly arrogant and self centered to focus on it and let it (with it being so trivial in the vast scope of life) occupy as many thoughts as it does and yet, its a struggle. part of my issue is how i have always viewed exercise...it has ALWAYS been a means to an end. always. for a dress, for a boy, for a bikini, for a vacation...you name it, if its shallow, its been a great motivator for yours truly. the problem with this (okay...many problems) is that once said shallow event or relationship has passed, i go back to slugging my way through life and relying only on occasional adjustments in diet to drop the pounds. that being confessed, this is my new mantra...at least its the one i am trying to convince myself of when i feel those self loathing thoughts come up.

i will choose to view exercise as a blessing...how lucky am i to be healthy enough to work out?? there are SO many people who would love to have the opportunity to run but are unable to for a variety of reasons. and my reasons are the lamest of lames....dont feel like it, too tired, choose to not make the time, dont feel like washing my hair today...the list goes on and on. the second part of my mantra is that regardless of the results (how timely or not) i will do this for a year. with the goal of five times a week. ugh. all this being said the most important part of working out is the wardrobe. so i bought new clothes to make myself look like im a worker outer even though my out of breathness will sell me out within a few minutes. i dont need to buy new running shoes because the ones i bought 4 years ago have conveniently only been worn a handful of times for marathons...of the shopping sort.

once the big decision was made, the new threads were ready and my new mantra was playing in my head, i decided i needed to seek some professional help (read someone to hold me accountable and force me to show up). so i met with the super fit fitness manager who discussed with me a few concepts...the first being that this would take sometime and the second being that it would be hard work. great. my two least favorite things. he insisted on setting goals (something i typically resist doing...like i really need tangible benchmarks to fail at) with the short term goal of fitting into a closet full of clothes (even while knowing that once i fit into all of them again, i will still continue to rotate between black and white crews and jeans i cant remember washing) and the long term goal of making this part of my life a habit. so i signed up for a race, hired kathy the wonder trainer and got to work. once super fit fitness guy had assessed my goals and mental health he matched kathy and i up. she has assured me that over time, a lot of people experience a runners high...im beginning to think she may have a drug problem herself.

with lots of progress to be made, kathy and i began the death march toward health and fitness. she is fabulous, really and very knowledgeable with a wide stocked arsenal of pain inducing moves. ive seen her smile once and i believe with enough time i could squeeze a laugh out of her, but what shes really a master at is carrying an entire conversation on her own. similar to a dentist chatting you up with your mouth pried open, kathy can hold down an entire conversation while i simply sweat and catch my breath wondering the entire time how she can really talk and keep track of reps at the same time. its very impressive to say the least and a skill that im sure only comes after years of watching countless victims struggle to talk while completely distracted by the fire that is racing through every muscle in their body. i dont think i can recall any part of any conversation we have ever had...and we've been meeting for 5 weeks. its not that im uninterested, im just a wee bit preoccupied with the level of concentration i have to simply not fall over and quit breathing. yep, its been fun.

so, im on my way. im running 20-30 miles a week and lifting a few times as well to try and build that muscle that will hopefully be unveiled at a later date when the cardio has done its job. there will be more on this to follow...like how ive chased those unruly exercise balls all over the mats or how ive memorized the exact location of the emergency stop button on the treadmill.

something shiny

i knew this day was coming. it had to with my overly inquisitive wicked smart 3 year old who spends her sleepless nights dreaming up questions that i dont have answers to only to watch me grasp at words that arent there as i try and satisfy her curiosity. she has started noticing pictures around the house that she isnt in...baffling im sure for her as she comes to terms with the reality that as hard as it may be to imagine, there was life before gk. the other evening she noticed a picture of patrick and i in italy. she immediately came to discuss it with me...it went like this...

gk: did you take me to italy with you?

me: no, sweetie, you weren't born yet.

gk: where was i?

me: remember how before jack was here it was just the 3 of us? well, its because God was making him in heaven. thats where you were when we were in italy. God was busy making you in heaven, knowing one day He would give you to us.

gk: oh. and then He gave me to you.

me: yes.

gk: how?

me: He put you in my tummy to grow just like jack.

gk: silence.

me: feeling pretty awesome at the ease of this conversation and a bit overly confident that her question had in fact been answered to her level of satisfaction.

gk: mommy, if God is all the way in heaven, how did He actually put me in your tummy?

me: hmmm. thats a great question. do you want some ice cream?

gk: sure!

and that concluded our talk. i never thought id be that person that avoided the tough questions, but here i am offering anything to buy me more time and better answers.

SHIaTsu

i know ive been lazy and neglecting the blog...its not for lack of want or material, its merely a lack of time issue. the precious minutes that i usually carve out for my therapy on this site have been spent reading (how ive missed it!!) and napping (which btw has become so rare, im not even that good at it anymore). however, this week we were able to sneak down for a quick visit with good friends who happen to live in a colonial paradise just outside of williamsburg. we thought we would cram in one final trip before they move south to alabama in a few short weeks. how quickly and easily i forget the fun and convenience of guests who choose to visit right at the peak of a stressful move...yes, i have become that friend.

within the hour we arrived, gk managed to lose the battle with her top button and pee right next to the toilet while jack peed through his diaper for the first time in months. finally after getting the little people bathed and quietly in bed (no small feat when they are sharing a room and the oldest is convinced that no bedtime routine is complete without a minimum of 10 questions and the little one is desperately trying to cut his first teeth) i came downstairs to see patrick enjoying a relaxing conversation, glass of wine and none other than a brookstone shiatsu massager on his back. (this is not to imply he wasnt helpful...he had just beat me back downstairs by a mere 5 minutes and while i was amazed at how quickly he managed to assume the 'happy and relaxed' position, i knew that with the same determination i, too, could achieve the same euphoria within moments).

once the shiatsu massager was available (guilted from his hands no less) i positioned it right between my shoulder blades and located the on switch. let the stress melt away and the relaxation begin. listen, this thing is no substitute for a great massage, but the two round balls applying strong pressure in a circular motion on my shoulders was pretty darn nice. for almost 2 whole minutes. this would be a good time to mention that im growing my hair out for locks of love...it is annoyingly long...even longer than usual and while im tempted on a daily basis to cut it myself, i am committed to doing this locks thing with a close friend whose mama is battling breast cancer these days.

so just as i was beginning to enjoy this shoulder massage i felt a slight tug on my hair. the slight tug grew into a strong pull and within seconds my hair was being wrapped around the balls of the massager. i yelled S***...how do you turn this thing off?? patrick, all relaxed and what not, jumped over to where i was and attempted to locate the off switch. thankfully, he momentarily did before accidentally pushing it too far which merely changed the direction of the rotation. at this point my hair was wrapped so tightly around the balls that they were at my scalp and i was straight up panicked. jason (co owner of the torture device) ran over and turned it off. i had not been this relaxed since the moment before my epidural took effect and i began to wonder if i was going to be cutting my hair off at the scalp. this would be another good time to mention that rayna, (primary owner of torture device) is an incredible photographer who so kindly was planning on shooting some family pics the following day. perfect. newly shaven head just 15 hours before professional pics. jason began to try and extract mangled mane while i lay still with shiatsu massage securely attached to my head. are you kidding me?? who does this kind of crap really happen to? pat assisted with 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and 'oh crap, katie, that looks really bad' while jason continued to try and extract all 16 inches of hair from this thing that i now felt had actually attempted to take my life and could only get to my hair.

jason suggested we try and disassemble the killer balls and set my thoroughly relaxed self free. with a little gentle pulling (similar to some beach tug of war) the balls were removed and i was FREE. i was a tangled and tense mess, but i was at least finally separate from the device that moments earlier had made a noteworthy attempt on my life. within a couple of minutes i, too, was in possession of a glass of wine enjoying a fabulous conversation that consisted of no less than five references to how thankful i was to be free of the shiatsu massager. jason, thank you again for saving my life.

road trip

i have about a gazillion posts in my head right now which is a pleasant switch from the usual ideas that center solely around thoughts of 'did you remember to wash your hands?', 'remember not too many wet kisses for your brother', 'please stop calling for me. i cant hear you because i am in the shower and the door is locked. please stop trying to break in. mommy only needs 4 minutes and i will buy you a pony if you step away from the door NOW', and so on. but, at this moment in time there are a gazillion. yep. that many. i have thoughts from good friday (which i again refused patricks suggestion to watch the passion every year as a tradition), thoughts (and pics!) from easter (still my fave holiday just ahead of fireworks on the 4th) and of course a few highlights from our 17 hour road trip cross country. if my family has EVER doubted my love for them across the miles, they neednt look any further than me hopping (oh so effortlessly) back and forth from front seat to back 432 times to pump and feed (no time to stop and nurse...nope, we have best times to create and then try and beat on the return trip), snacks to open, dvds to switch, toys to retrieve, water to refill, pacis to locate, babies to change (on the console no less...we are hard core), and of course the repeated explanations of why it takes soooo long to drive to missouri.

the best part of the early hours had to be the conversation that took place less than a mile from our house as we exited our development.

me: pat, so, how are we going to get there?
pat: i have 3 different options based on mapquest, trip planner and garmin.
me: great. so we have 3 different choices? which one are we using?

gk: dont forget we could also go on a plane. thats a choice too.

me: thats right, peach. and i can tell you already, that is how we will go next time. promise.

a few memorable moments::

everything you hear about west virginia is true. we stopped for 7 minutes to refill on gas and let the peach pee and im telling you, its just as you would imagine. the bathroom was a one stall type of thing with a sink right outside. it was a pretty small space, so imagine my surprise when we exit to find 4 very interesting grown women waiting in the 2 square feet of space outside the stall. it was so bizarre how they were all crowded on top of each other just waiting and watching us as we left, not even pretending to not be staring. i cant do the whole experience justice except to say it reminded me of twin peaks. enough said. what people somehow always fail to mention among the no teeth, weird mountain families comments, is that it happens to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. okay, country. fine, eastern part of the country (since colorado and montana are in the u.s.). still, a gorgeous place to drive through if youre not required to spend the night there.

kentucky is where i belong. i think. or colorado. but if i cant have colorado, ill take kentucky. the most spectacular green hills dotted with beautiful farms and pastures with more horses than i could count. it made 64 not seem as long as we drove past mile after mile of katie heaven.

fill up before you get to east st. louis so you dont have to fill up there. or make sure youre participating in the 'conceal and carry' law.

jack in the box is just as disgusting as it was when i had it in the middle of the night in hawaii 6 years ago. only worse because it was daylight and i was really really hungry and hadnt been drinking or dieting.

georgia and i could both happily substitute animal crackers (whatever, theyre still cookies), cheeze its, and fruit snacks for all three meals. everyday. i think.

jack is a rock star. he only left his car seat once in 8 hours at which time he grabbed and dumped the tray of food at jack in the box. its almost as if i could hear him saying 'you leave me buckled in a straight jacket for 5 hours...youre lucky this is all i can do'.

there is a reason our kids arent allowed to watch television. okay, theres a million reasons, but i swear, after watching dvd after dvd for hours on end, our typically well mannered peach was the most distracted, bossy and easily the rudest shes ever been. and we will happily make that trade for the trip home as well.

between the garmin, cell phone, dvd player, pump, ipod, and headphones, i was ready to throw EVERY cord and charger out the window. i was on the verge of a major meltdown every time i had to try and find anything near the console. it looked like our car was hooked up on life support and at any moment i was going to carelessly rip one of the seemingly 30 different cords out. highly frustrating for a person who likes things orderly and hates clutter and who is so challenged when it comes to anything electronic. not fun.

lesson learned...do not tell your child when you have finally entered the state of said destination if your city of destination is still over 3 hours past the state line. and you have forbidden anymore movies for the remainder of the trip for your highly inquisitive child.

other lesson learned...always check the hotel room extra super good for anything of value you may be overlooking. particularly if the things of value are white, personalized, treasured baby blankets that blend in perfectly with the white bed linens. ah yes. just a few moments of trauma while we dialed up vincent at the front desk who assured me they are in fact on their way here. we hope.