What I Learned From Running 18 Miles

That's right, Internet! I rocked out 18 miles yesterday. Woo hoo!

I am looking to these long runs to not only prepare me physically, but also mentally for the big 26.2 coming up in just 4 weeks. (Holy Yoda, only 4 weeks?!?) Here's what I'm learning:

1. The iPod doesn't have to be playing music for me to run well. For this run, instead of listening to music, I listened to a couple episodes of This American Life. Not having the beats of the music did not affect my pace at all. The iPod serves mainly as a distraction, a way for me to not get bored during those hours of running.

2. 10 miles is too long to go without Gu. At mile 8, I was starting to drag a bit. I had the Gu in my pocket, but I wanted to wait until my water break at mile 10, since it's better to have them with water. Those two miles were rough. I will plan better next time.

3. During these long runs, I somehow manage to get a blister on toe #3 of my right foot. I'll have to figure out a new way to prevent this.

4. A short break can really energize me. I walked up the hill at about 8-1/2 miles, then stopped for water and Gu at mile 10, then a Gu/pee/water break at mile 14. Every time I did, I felt totally refreshed. And it really didn't hurt my time at all. I finished at a totally respectable pace that I was proud of. If I need to take a little rest, I should do it.

5. I need to figure out a way to actually EAT towards the end of these runs. On my two longest runs to date - 16 and 18 miles, I found myself feeling really, really hungry in the last couple of miles. I might have to experiment with carrying some kind of Power Bar with me.

6. Long runs make me HUNGRY. I devoured everything in sight yesterday, and may do the same today.

7. Ice baths? Crazy, but they work. I don't feel sore at all.

8. I am in really good shape and truly seem to have trained myself to be able to tackle these long distances. That added confidence is definitely the most important thing. I truly believe I can do this.

Dressing The Part

Amy over at Runners Lounge has a post about fashion rules for running. Her first rule is "If you can cross the line, anything is fine." This is, of course, 100% true. One of the coolest things about running is that you really just need a decent pair of shoes (and a sports bra, if you're a woman), and you are good to go. No need for a whole lot of gear or flim-flam.

The last time in my life I was really serious about running was when I was a cross country runner in high school. We trained a lot, two workouts a day for a total of at least 10 miles a day. We combined road runs, weight training, form drills, hill work, and some truly brutal track workouts (the 16 quarters we did my junior year is the second hardest thing I have ever done physically, surpassed only by 3 days worth of labor pains). And at the time, my teammates and I rather pointedly didn't care what we wore.

We definitely weren't buying special running shorts or clothing made of tech fabrics. We wore old t-shirts and whatever shorts we had handy - often just cut-off sweats. The closest thing to real running gear any of us wore were tights, and that's only because in November when you're training for State, it's really freaking cold outside. We scoffed at the idea of matchy-matchy gear.

But now? Well, my thinking has changed. I greatly prefer tech fabrics, because the moisture wicking really makes a difference to me. I have special socks that I wear just for running, otherwise I will get blisters. My running skirts are some of my favorite garments.

I also do something that my teenaged self would have considered unthinkable: I wear outfits that are not only matching, but also... cute. I'll go out in a white running skirt with pink trim and a matching pink singlet. This morning, I wore my black running skirt, a grey t-shirt that proclaims me to be "ATHLETIC," a red zip-front jacket (I love you, fall weather), and a white running hat from One More Mile that tells anyone who can read it that Running Is My Happy Hour. I'll admit it: I looked adorable.

I have come to terms with my new desire for running fashion. Amy is right that if it gets you across the line, it's fine. But I swear, knowing that I'm out there looking like a serious runner makes me feel even more like I really am one.

High Five!

Monday: Jack wore underwear and kept it clean and dry all day.

Tuesday: Jack had two accidents. My mom, who was taking care of him, says it's her fault because she wasn't good about making him go. Jack will use the potty if you ask him (and if he is reasonably assured of some M&Ms or similar afterwards), but he's not going to come up with the idea on his own.

Wednesday: Jack wore underewear to school for the first time. He stayed clean and dry all day.

Way to go, Cub!

Potpourri

- Jack has decided that he wants to wear underwear. We'll see how this plays out.

- I got my Illinois driver's license finally, so I guess this is all official (as if getting a job and buying a house didn't make it so). The picture is surprisingly good. And going to the DMV was not a ridiculous pain in the ass... not much, anyway.

- I could not be happier about the fall weather we're having. When I went out for my run last night, it was actually a bit cool outside. Delightful!

- Plus, bonus, Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks. How I love the PSL!

- The boys and I are leaving in a little over a week for Disney World. I am really excited.

- All this talk of Pumpkin Spice Lattes means it might be time for a trip to 'Bucks.

Bravery

So, it turns out that in addition to a general iron deficiency, my B12 levels are also pretty low. I swear to Yoda, once all of this is worked out, I am going to be such a superhero.

In the meantime, I am taking iron supplements, but for the B12, I have to get shots! It's once a week for a month, then once a month, probably for the rest of my life. It's a good thing the zillions of blood tests I had to take when I was pregnant have gotten rid of my fear of needles.

Instead of being scared of the frequent shots, my first reaction was to wonder about the logistics of it all. The easiest thing to do would be for me to go Monday or Tuesday morning before work, since Steve takes Jack to my mom's house those days. But no luck - that doesn't work for the doctor's office. No problem, I reasoned - I'll just get their first morning appointment, bring Jack with me, and take him to school afterwards.

It's a real sign of how much easier life is at Stately Wasser Manor that I'd even consider taking Jack to a doctor's appointment with me. He is growing up and is a lot easier to corral than he used to be. I also know that he is old enough to understand that Mommy needs to get a shot to stay healthy, just like Elmo did in that book we read. And that it will hurt, but just for a second, and that this time, only Mommy needs to get a shot, not Jack. I don't have to worry that he will freak out, cry, try to escape, or have a tantrum in the middle of the waiting room. Yeah, it might happen, but it's unlikely, and I can probably talk him down from the ledge.

This morning was our first trip to the doctor's office. Jack and I talked all about it, and he seemed awfully proud of his role of helping Mommy be brave. When we arrived, I snuck Linda, the nurse, a Buzz Lightyear sticker to give Jack when it was all over. It was pretty obvious that they don't have any pediatric patients in the practice, since she needed a second to figure out what I was asking.

The whole thing took about two minutes and just could not have gone more smoothly. Jack was not one bit bothered or worried by my getting a shot - and neither was I. He was pleased to see that Linda gave me a Band-Aid, but thrilled with his sticker.

All the way to school, he chattered happily about how the doctor gave him a sticker for being brave. He then immediately showed his bounty to his friend Emma.

My little guy is growing up, and in so many ways, it's a good thing. I can feel confident that taking him with me somewhere unusual is not a total act of bravery, I know just how to take care of him, and I know that he can be brave, too.

Cheer!

Hey, Internet!

On Sunday, give a great big cheeer for Sandy, who will be running her very first half marathon in Virginia Beach.

Sandy is one of my partners in crime at RNO, and a few months ago, one of her friends somehow convinced her to run a half marathon with her. Sandy had never been a runner before, but she decided to give it a shot. She's been working hard, and now her big day is coming.

I think it's incredibly cool that she went from blogging about how she was able to complete most of her run that day with only a few breaks to walk and is now ready to go a 13.1 mile race.

So, good luck, Sandy! I will be cheering for you in spirit!

The Color Game

Jack and I were in the car this morning when this went down...

Jack: I know! Let's play The Color Game!
Me: Okay, sounds good. What color should we do first.
Jack (looking pointedly at Roary): NOT orange.
Me: How about blue?
Jack: No, my want to do yellow.
Me: Okay, what's something that's yellow?
Jack: Shrek candy!
Me: Hey, yeah! There's yellow Shrek candy. Good one, Jack.
Roary: Shrek candy!
Me: Can you think of anything else that's yellow, Jack?
Jack: No, Mommy. I did my job. It not my turn anymore. You do your job.

How *you* doin?

One of the things about Jack that makes me most proud is that he is a very outgoing little guy. Jack pretty much assumes that everyone around him is friendly and approachable. He is not afraid to march his little diapered (or Pull Up'ed, I guess) butt right over to them to say hello.

The challenge is the opening line. Jack's favorite way to kick off a conversation right now is to say, "I have a new house." If that seems to generate some interest, Jack will then tell them that he has a big boy bed and that it has Elmo on it. He might then let them know that, "Him a tiger. Him name Roary."

Sometimes, he begins by seeking common ground. Jack saw a man the other day whose arms were covered by tattoos. Jack excitedly pointed to the Mickey Mouse stamp on his hand (which he got after tumbling class) and said, "My got it stamp, too! You got lots of stamps!" Luckily, the guy seemed to find it funny.

With other kids, Jack often just asks for their name. It is pretty much a given in Jack's mind that they will want to play with him. Last week at the Family Museum, he tried a different tactic. Jack was, at the time, completely obsessed with The Incredibles. He was wearing a vest that he'd decided was a cape, so he was Syndrome for a change instead of his usual pick of Mr. Incredible. Jack kept saying, "My Syndrome! My bad guy! My got cape!" all in his gruff little "bad guy" voice. The girl tried her best to ignore him. I pointed out that maybe she doesn't like to play Incredibles (also, maybe isn't into bad boys yet), and perhaps would prefer a she's Cinderella, you're the mean kitty cat kind of scenario. Finally, he gave up on being Syndrome and just told her his name.

The best, though, was when he was playing with a little girl at the zoo. He went so far as to also chat up her mom. I saw him pointing to Steve and me and saying, "That my mommydaddy. Her name Betsy, Him name Steve."

Running Report

Remember two weeks ago when the half marathon kicked my ass?

Well yesterday, I ran 15 miles, and I rocked it out!

My plan was to run a six mile loop to and from my house, grab some water and pee if necessary, then do another six mile loop, water/pee break again, then three. I felt so strong after loop two that I opted to just keep going and finish out the fifteen. At several points when the Nike+ lady told me how far I'd gone, I just felt giddy. I knew I could keep going, and I knew I'd finish strong.

I then got home, guzzled some Gatorade, and took an ice bath. My friend Cindy says that I must have "brass ovaries" to even consider an ice bath, and I have to say, the first time was quite the leap of faith. But yesterday, I was actually looking forward to it. I even thought it felt good. I didn't even need my post-run nap! Instead, I took Jack to Starbucks and the pet store.

I feel amazing.

In other news, I had a check-up last Thursday. The doctor immediately asked if I feel tired often or if I am having trouble with my endurance levels. No, I told him, and added that I'm running a marathon in a few months.

He was very surprised, because my blood tests indicate that I'm anemic! He told me to take some iron supplements, which I started today. I suspect that once that extra iron is coarsing through my veins, I will be a superhero.



Like maybe Iron Man?

Boogie Nights Situation

This scene from Boogie Nights makes me incredibly tense. The drug deal is going horribly bad, Alfred Molina is batshit crazy, and that kid keeps making firecrackers go off. When I watch it, I want to knaw all of my fingernails off, because you just know that any second, something is going to go wrong, wrong, wrong.

The scene has inspired us to coin the phrase Boogie Nights Situation at Stately Wasser Manor. There are times when Jack is just the wrong combination of tired/overstimulated/hungry/randomly pissy that we just know that we are seconds away from something bad. Any second, Jack is going to rear back with a kickass tantrum, or he's going to hit me, or he's going to break something, or he's simply going to wack the hell out of his head on a sharp corner.

Sometimes, we can prevent disaster, but other times, we're just waiting out the clock, hoping that the scene will not end too badly.

Dios mio!

Can I tell you a secret, Internet?

Dora The Explorer is kind of growing on me.



The pace of the show is still excruciatingly slow. "Who do we ask for help when we don't know which way to go?" For the love of Yoda, Dora, it's the map, just like it is in every single episode. The loooong pauses are undoubtedly great if you're a preschooler, but if you're not, they are painful.

And sure, Boots is cool, but what about her creepy squirrel friend Tico, he of the multicolored vest and flying/floating/rocket ship car?



I'd hate to meet that dude in a jungle.

But Jack loves the show so much that I have to admit, his enthusiasm is contagious. I love hearing him answering Dora, telling her, "Swiper right there, Dora! No more swiping!" He also pays very close attention to the show and can tell you all about it. The stories as told by Jack are always more amusing.

"Mommy, Boots thought he saw bear, but Isa was being bear! That funny! Dora and Boots thought the bear was in the cave, but him no was in the cave. Bear was in the grass!"

At the end of the show, when Dora asks which part of the adventure you liked best, I always want to tell her that my favorite part was watching Jack.

I know that after a painfully long pause, she'd nod sagely and say, "I liked that part, too."

Extreme Cuteness

Steve: Achoo! Oh, excuse me.
Jack: No, Daddy. Excuse me is for burps. I say "bless you" for sneeze. Bless you, Daddy.

Angels

Yesterday was my longest "long run" yet. Granted, I'll be able to repeat this sentence pretty much every Monday until my marathon, but it's still satisfying to say it.

My goal was to run 13 miles, but I figured I might as well make it 13.1 and call it a half-marathon, because that sounds so much more kickass.

Sadly, it ended up kicking my ass.

For starters, I got a lousy night's sleep on Saturday. For whatever reason, I woke up at 4:00 and was wide awake. I didn't get as early of a start as I would have liked because once I finally did fall asleep, I was dead to the world until Jack woke me up. And when Jack woke me up, Steve was then dead to the world for another hour. Once I finally got going, it was 9:00 and blazing ass hot, not to mention swampy humid. I could not catch a breeze to save my life, even though I stayed as close to the river as possible in hopes that it'd be a bit cooler.

The heat made what would have been a challenging run an absolute slog. I had to make all kinds of bargains with myself - if I gutted it out and didn't take another walking/water break for a couple more miles, I could walk up the killer steep hill at mile 10, for example. And if I needed to slow my pace? Hey, no problem.

Even still, by the time I got to the last mile, I was hurting. I have a mantra that I say in my head to encourage me: I am strong. I am tough. I can do this. I am a marathoner. I went from saying it in my head to muttering it out loud. Even that wasn't enough, so I spent much of that final mile saying, "Come on already. It's just one stupid mile, and you'll be done soon. Suck it up and keep going. Don't be such a fucking wimp."

Finally, it was over. Instead of feeling strong and triumphant, I was absolutely exhausted. I decided to cut through the grocery store on my way home to soak up a little air conditioning (which was heaven).

On my way in, a man stopped me. "Hey," he said, "I saw you running all the way in downtown Rock Island. Did you run all that way?" I told him yes, and then some. "Damn, girl! That's some running!"

With that, my mindset completely changed. Yeah, it was tough, and no, there was nothing pretty about that run. It was really hard - and you know what? I did it.

The Non-Runner's Guide to Marathons refers to "running angels." They are people who come along at just the right minute to somehow save you with a gel, a drink of water, or just a few words of encouragement. That man was my very first running angel.

I headed back home to survey the damages. My outfit was completely soaked in sweat. I downed two huge bottles of Gatorade in about 30 seconds. Then I took an ice bath. If you're not crazy enough to run 13.1 miles in ridiculous heat and humidity, then surely you're not crazy enough to be familiar with an ice bath, so here's the deal. You fill your tub with freezing cold water deep enough to cover your legs and stay in it for as long as you can. The cold water causes your blood vessels to tighten and drains the blood out of your legs. The new blood then sends more oxygen to your muscles and aids in your recovery.

It was painful, yet awesome.

I also discovered that I had sunburn on my face and shoulders and some chafing on my chest from my shirt. And that taking a post-run nap is even better if Jack joins me.

What Do I Know?

Sunday night, I was chatting with Steve and said, "You know what? Screw potty training for the time being." After all, we're going to Disney World in a little over a month, and it's not like Jack's going to figure it all out before then. We might as well just forget about the whole thing until after we get back. It was agreed, and it was a sound policy.

Then, I picked Jack up from my mom's house last night. Little man was lounging around in his t-shirt and a pair of underwear. My mom reported that he was interested in using the potty, did a fantastic job, and insisted on wearing his new (and awesome) Spider-Man underwear like a big boy.

So, yeah - what do I know?

On the way home, I told Jack how proud of him I was. I asked him if he wanted to go to Target after dinner to buy more big boy underwear, and he was all over that idea. I told him I'd get him whatever kind he wanted, and I don't think I'd even finished the sentence when he requested Thomas. Upon further thought, he decided he'd also like Elmo. And at the store, he put a pack of Cinderella underwear in the cart, which I removed when he wasn't looking. I'm a liberal mom, but I draw the line at cross dressing.

Is he really interested? Who knows. But in case he is, we are stocked up on Thomas and Elmo underwear - and carpet cleaner.

The Hills Are Alive

Last weekend, Steve, my brother, and I ran the Bix 7. The Bix is a long-standing Quad City tradition: a seven mile road race that attracts elite runners from around the world, as well as apparently everyone who lives anywhere remotely nearby who has the faintest interest in running. This was my third Bix, and now that I live here again, I can't imagine missing one.

The race is, in short, a blast. The course is really difficult. Not only is the distance tough (though decreasingly so for me, as my training miles have gone up), but the course itself is really challenging. The race starts almost immediately with a run up a very steep hill that goes on for about half a mile. And there are yet more hills, some rolling, and others that aren't very steep, but are long - the kind that kind of sneaks up on you.

It turns out that running hills is a really good idea for me. At the pre-race expo, I picked up some information about the marathon in Des Moines that I'm training for. There are hills at miles 3 and 7, and the literature advises, "If you haven't already incorporated hills into your training program, please do so now."

Message received!

Luckily, I live in a really hilly area. If I'm running more than three miles, it actually takes some doing to avoid hills completely. So hey, why not be prepared? I have a three-mile course that includes a really steep hill at around the midpoint, so that will be the run that I begin my week with every week from now on. And I'll definitely make sure my long runs are not flat and easy.

Thanks to four years of high school cross country, I am no stranger to running hills. They're definitely challenging, but the key to tackling them successfully is the mental game. The book The Non-Marathoner's Guide to Running suggests that you embrace the hills. The book advises that you say, "Hello, hill. Come run with me."

I take a slightly different tactic. When I hit a hill, I'm more likely to say, "Hill? I'm not scared of you, bitch. You're not that tough. I'm much stronger than you are, and I am almost done. You are a tiny part of this workout for me." And before you know it, I'm at the top, feeling triumphant.


Oh, and by the way, it wasn't just us grown-ups who ran the Bix. Jack was able to compete in the Junior Bix, a grueling 70 yard dash. Once he convinced me that he would literally die if he had to wear his race number, he was all smiles, running down the street, holding my hand, and taunting his fellow two-year olds with a "Neener, neener, neener!"

Get The Lead Out

Fisher Price announced yesterday that they are recalling more than one million toys because they may contain lead-based paint. The toys in question are all Sesame Street, Diego, and Dora toys - pretty much Jack's favorite stuff. I just reviewed the LONG list of stuff, and it's like looking into Jack's toy box, he has so much of it. Luckily for me, the recall only affects toys sold after May 1, 2007, and all of Jack's are older than that. But that's honestly just luck.

This story has me in fits of Protective Mama Bear Rage. Lead paint? Are you fucking kidding me? A few months ago, there was a safety recall on a toy chair that Jack had. That was a case that I'm not upset about. They tested the toy, but some kid got creative and found a way to hurt himself with it. Grownups can test things like crazy and still not have the ingenuity of a toddler bent on destruction. That's understandable. But lead paint is pretty damned easy to avoid- and to test for. Things like this are completely avoidable and simply should not happen.

Lesson Learned

Now that Jack is sleeping in his Medium Boy Bed, one of the little joys of my day is that he likes to come wake me up. I can always hear him coming. First, there's a light thump as he climbs out of bed. Then, I can hear him scuttering over to turn off his sound machine. There's a creak as he slowly opens his door, then closes it behind him. More little footsteps as he opens our door, then pads over to me. He rests his little hand on my arm and whispers, "Wake up, Mommy!"

It's really nice.

It is, however, less nice when it happens too early in the morning. In those cases, Steve and I just haul Jack into our bed to sleep between us. It never really works that well. He likes to position himself perpendicular to the two of us, forming a giant letter H. Or he'll kick us in the backs repeatedly. Or somehow get his feet tangled in my hair. Not ideal sleeping conditions by any stretch of the imagination, but still cuddly.

This morning, he arrived at the hideous hour of 5:00. He announced that he needed a binky, so I staggered into his room to get one (should really add one to the bedside table). Then, he told me that he needed Roary. Ugh, could he not have asked for Roary AND the binky at the same time? I brought him Roary, then tried unsuccessfully to go to sleep.

I finally told Jack that if he couldn't lie down, I'd take him back to his room. Jack, believe it or not, seemed into the idea. So, I took him to his room, and he stayed there for a whopping half hour.

He showed up again, and I took him by the hand, walked him back to his room, tucked him in, and proceeded to curl up next to him on his tiny little bed.

After a few minutes, he put his little hand on my arm and said, "Mommy, go to sleep." I told him that's what I was going to do, right there next to him. Jack clarified. "Mommy, go to sleep in mommydaddy bed."

Well, he didn't have to tell me twice. I went right back to mommydaddy bed and didn't hear from him again until 7:30.

Steve and I agreed that from now on, we'll try to put him back in his own bed. With Roary and plentiful binkies.

People Are Boobs

This is a picture of Senator Hillary Clinton on the Senate floor.

Washington Post writer Robin Givhan wrote a ridiculously puritanical article about it, saying that she was startled to see the "small acknoledgment of sexuality and feminity" from Senator Clinton. She talks about the history of Hillary's public appearance, noting that she rarely wears anything feminine in public and that when running for the Senate initially, she opted for a uniform of flattering, but sexless black pantsuits.

Givhan's article suggests that the fact that Senator Clinton is starting to show a more feminine sense of style indicates that she is becoming more confident. That she's not only intelligent and experienced, but that she also has a womanly side. I think that's true. I believe that Hillary is increasingly coming into her own, not just as Bill Clinton's wife, but as a force to be reckoned with all her own.

Unfortunately, Givhan also says, "To display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d'oeuvres is a provocation."

Well, break out the red paint, because it's time to put a great big A on Hillary's chest. Calling Senator Clinton's outfit "a provocation" is absolutely absurd. She looks completely professional and businesslike. You have to squint to see the faintest hint of boob in that outfit. It's not like she's dressed like Amanda Woodward, for Yoda's sake.

I'd like to think that we, as a country, are evolved enough to elect a woman as president (whether it's Senator Clinton or someone else), but this makes me sadly wonder if it's true.

At least it's not infuriating as the conversations I've overheard about what Bill Clinton's title will be if his wife is elected President. "What's he going to be, First Gentleman," is bandied about with a guffaw as if that were the most ridiculous thing ever suggested.

My answer? I don't know; we'll work it out. Any man who is smart enough to marry our first female president ought to be smart enough to come up with an appropriate title, whether it's First Gentleman or something else. Martha Washington didn't have a template to follow, and she did all right. Let's not distract ourselves with stupid details like this.

The Age of Discovery

Yesterday, as Steve was changing Jack's diaper, he attempted to distract him with a little dance. The dance was goofy and included Steve hiking up his shirt to expose his belly (sorry, baby - abs)... and more.

Jack: Daddy, what's that?
Steve: Um, those are my nipples.
Jack: Want those off there.
Steve: I can't take them off. They're part of my body.
Jack: Want those off there.
Steve: Sorry, buddy - they're part of my body. Look, you have some, too.
Jack: Where Jack's nipples?
Steve: See, there they are.
Jack: Here Jack's nipples!
Jack: Here Daddy's nipples!
Jack: Where Mommy's nipples?

Could it be more obvious that I didn't breast-feed him?

The Chicken Dance

In the (freaking awesome) movie Knocked Up, Paul Rudd's character laments, "I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles."

It was a very sad little moment, and I think a lot of people feel that way when they see the pure bliss that a kid feels about so many small things in life. I feel lucky in that I truly believe that I am able to feel more joy, more passion about the world around me than the average person. But last night, Jack completely trumped me.

Steve was out at a party, so we were having some Mommy-Son time. I decided that Mommy-Son time would be a lot more fun if there were less of Jack throwing himself on the concrete crying, "Want Daddy" and more of us actually doing something. So, we walked over to our neighborhood park.

As fate would have it, a local church was having a public "Family Fun" night there, and let me tell you, their definition of the word "fun" was rather broad, in my opinion.

They had face painting, and little carnival games, which seemed like fun for the older kids, but not really for Jack. A completely unimpressive band playing Christian rock. They also had "train" rides. The train was, in fact, a riding lawnmower disguised as a train with some plywood, pulling a small cart filled with kids who were honestly too old to be riding on the fake train. Also, the train kept getting stuck in the mud. Jack spent a lot of time watching the "train" and talking excitedly about it.

We walked around some more, and Jack noticed a random guy in a chicken suit. Why a chicken? No idea. It's not like there's some chicken story in the Bible, and the chicken wasn't wearing a Jesus t-shirt or anything. Just, for no particular reason, Chicken. Nevertheless the kid was just as excited about the Christian Chicken as he would have been about someone actually cool like Mickey Mouse or Elmo. He said, "Mommy, want to go see that duck!" I said that it was a chicken, but sure, we could go see him.

Jack marched his little butt right up to the Christian Chicken and said hi. The two of them hugged, and then Jack held Roary up to the Christian Chicken. CC hugged Roary also, then handed him back to Jack. Then, Jack and the Christian Chicken started dancing to the sucky band.

He proceeded to follow Christian Chicken all around the park until I finally convinced him that CC should probably talk to some other kids. I lured him home with the promise of popsicles.

I definitely can't muster up a child-like level of joy for watching a riding lawnmower get stuck in the mud or busting a move with a guy in a chicken suit. But sitting on my back step, eating a popsicle while Jack rests one hand on my knee?

Absolute joy.

Under Pressure

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I freaking love this commercial. And last night, I pretty much lived it.

It was a busy day at work. Not bad, just busy. But before I left, we had another incredibly painful and tearful goodbye from Jack. It is pretty much the worst possible way to start your day.

When I got home, he continued to cling to me like a barnacle. Steve was going to take him to the grocery store, but no way would he leave me for that long. So, whatever. I made dinner while holding him, which isn't exactly easy now that he's 30 pounds and wiggly.

He was super annoying at dinner. Jack ate, like, two bites of mashed potatoes and announced that he was full and ready for dessert. Ahem. He also didn't want me to eat my dinner and responded to my attempts to do so by pulling on my hand as hard as he could, saying, "Come on" over and over again.

Steve took out one of his plates and put two bites of chicken and a small mound of mashed potatoes on it, informing Jack that he needed to eat all of that food, or no snacks or dessert. Steve then had to go make a phone call, leaving me to deal with Jack.

Like an idiot, I went against my new policy regarding food, which is Eat it or don't eat it; I'm not going to beg you. I cajoled, I wheedled, I tried to inspire him to eat by having Spidey eat bites of chicken. Jack whined, spit chicken on the carpet, and generally annoyed the crap out of me.

The whole situation had me pulled in a million directions. On one hand,I feel horrible about the fact that he is having such seperation anxiety. I know that my little guy is going through a lot right now, and I just wish that I could shoulder all burdens for him so that life is nothing but easy for him. On the other hand, for the love of Yoda, kid, if you want to be around me so badly, how about not being a complete dick when you are? Then I feel guilty again, because I know that he's only being a dick because he needs me extra right now, and what the hell kind of mother am I if I'm calling my toddler a dick?

Steve got off the phone, detached a crying barnacle from my leg, and ordered me to go running. I picked a route with a really steep hill, reasoning that I'll need some extra hill training to prepare for the Bix. I also think that, subconsciously, I wanted a workout that would be really hard.

So I set off. At first, I was all distracted, thinking about how hard this whole situation is and wondering how badly I was handling it. But as I kept on running, all of it just melted away, just like in the commercial. By the time I was two miles in, all I was thinking about was the physical act of running. I felt a million times better.

And, as luck would have it, when I got home, I discovered a happy Jack, stripped down to his diaper, eating a giant cookie at the kitchen table, having made a valliant effort at eating the food we gave him. He was sweet, funny, and not even remotely unpleasant for the rest of the night.

Hey, and thanks to everybody who commented on my last post. It's nice to feel your support, it really is.

Too Many Teardrops

There is far too much crying going on in my house these days.

In the last week or so, Jack has entered into a gigantic crybaby phase. The tiniest little bump sends him into a tizzy, crying and wailing, "Got it boo-boo!" If he were actually hurt, it'd be one thing, but if you stub your toe just a little bit, then suck it up. The last thing I want is the kind of kid who knows he'll get attention for all of these fake injuries. So, I pretty much ignore him, tell him to shake it off, or suggest that he tell Roary about it. I know he'll get over it, and I know that he is, in fact, looking for attention. In the meantime, it's just annoying.

Worse, Jack is currently the president of the Mommy Fan Club and is undergoing some serious seperation anxiety. Last Thursday, I picked him up from his new daycare center, and let me tell you, he was having a blast. He was having so much fun dancing to The Wiggles and following Miss Rita in a march around the room that he didn't even realize I was there until the song ended.

In sharp contrast, the very next day, he started freaking out about a block away from school. He cried and wailed and begged me not to leave him. I've had him cling to me before, but this was the worst it's ever been. I know that he'll stop crying soon after I leave, and I know that he's a social kid and loves school, but it absolutely broke my heart to see him cry like that.

When I left the classroom, I was pretty upset. Carol, the director, peeked in and said that he was already starting to calm down. She ordered me to call her as soon as I got to the office to check in, which was really nice of her. Still, I broke down in tears as soon as I got to the car, then started crying again when Steve called and I told him about it.

Sure enough, the little punk was fine about five minutes after I left and was playing and having fun. But every single time I've had to leave him since then, it's been similarly tough. I am usually pretty stoic about the seperation anxiety, but I am having a lot of trouble with it right now. It's just a horrible way to start the day.

Being Green

Living in the new Stately Wasser Manor feels like a new beginning. It's like the first day of school, when you were determined to do things a little differently, like change your look a bit, or get to school earlier. This, I figure, is my opportunity to set things up in such a way to make our lives a bit easier and more organized. Everything from arranging the kitchen cabinets to buying a new family message center to finding a spot other than the dining room table to put our mail is a great opportunity.

One of the things that I've decided to do is to find little ways to live a bit greener. Just because I can't switch completely to organic produce, buy a hybrid car, or exclusively bike to work doesn't mean that my efforts to do little things for the planet, and for Jack's future on it, are wasted.

To that end, I'm reading a book called It's Easy Being Green that offers lots of simple, actionable ideas to do your part to improve the planet. Here are some changes I'm making:

• Switching all lightbulbs to compact fluorescents. This is really no big deal to do at all, and CFL's use significantly less energy than regular light bulbs
• Re-using plastic sandwich bags whenever possible
• Only running the dishwasher when it's full (not so hard to do now that I no longer have baby bottles to be concerned with)
• Using the timer on our thermostat
• Buying locally grown produce at the farmer's market whenever possible (which is nice anyway)
• Using only a trickle of water to wash my hands and turning it off while I lather. And not running the water while I brush my teeth
• No more bottled water. I never drank bottled water because I had any problem with tap, but rather because it was more convenient. Now I have a pretty green bottle that I just re-use every day. Much nicer.
• I bring my own travel mug to 'bucks when it's time for a cup of coffee. Like the water bottle, it's actually a little nicer than it's disposable counterpart.
• At the office, I try to avoid printing anything that I could just email or read online. And when I do print something, I take the pages, turn them upside down, and use them as scratch paper.
• No more plastic bags. I bought a bunch of re-usable cloth bags on eBay and have them in the trunks of both cars. I've used them so far at the grocery store and at my favorite store, Target, and I love them. For one thing, there's that sweet feeling of superiority I can enjoy when I ask for neither paper nor plastic. And the fact that they are much easier to carry than plastic bags. And, if that wasn't enough, they're red!

I'm constantly on the lookout for other small changes I can make. It really feels important to me, and so far, none of this has been hard.

And... We're Back!

On Thursday, the pain in my Achilles was excruciating. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but I was starting to think that a pair of crutches might be in order. But I rested all weekend, iced it, and slathered myself in Icy Hot. I know, sexy.

I swear, other runners came out of the woodwork all weekend long, and I was completely envious of them, smugly running past me, prancing around on their healthy legs. Bastards. And the incredibly cute new running outfit, complete with apple green running skirt with racing stripes to make it faster, was taunting me from the dresser drawer.

But as time went on, my pain went from horrendous to tolerable to non-existant. And this morning, I braved my first run since it started hurting. It was a good day to start, since I was only scheduled for an easy three anyway.

I picked a flat course and went very slowly - a full minute and a half behind my usual pace. I felt some pangs towards the end, but nothing I couldn't run through. And when I stopped running, the pain was gone. It felt so good to be back running again! And thanks to some lucky timing, I only missed one training run.

I'm scheduled for a four mile run tomorrow. I'm going to make it a slow one too, because I really don't want to get hurt again.

Medium Boy Bed

Friday evening, Jack declared, "Mommy big. Daddy big. Jack tiny. Jack getting bigger." Steve told me that Jack has been talking a lot lately about how he is little compared to the rest of us. The two of them had gone to the pool that day, and Steve got an admission bracelet. Jack did not get a bracelet because, being under three, he gets in for free. But of course, he's not so much focused on that, but rather that he doesn't get a fabulous orange plastic bracelet. Jack has told Steve that he is tiny, but is getting bigger.

It was really a perfect transition.

I agreed with Jack that he is getting bigger. So much bigger, in fact, that it's probably time for him to not sleep in his crib anymore, but rather in his big boy bed. Steve, picking up on the thread, agreed. He also said that because Jack is such a big boy now, he should help Mommy put the bed together.

Jack was totally excited. And believe it or not, he was actually quite helpful when I put the bed together. It was handy having him get me whatever screw I needed at the time. And I think that his "helping" with the bed made it all the more exciting for him. Of course, it was even more thrilling when I put the Elmo sheets on it. That was money well spent, right there.

Even more miraculously, after we put Jack to bed, he stayed there. All night. Without magically appearing downstairs and happily declaring, "Jack awake now!"

The very best thing about Jack's transition to the Medium Boy Bed came on Saturday morning. Steve was in bed, thinking about getting up, when he heard Jack's sound machine turn off. Then, he heard the door open, then a few minutes later, Jack bounded into our room to greet him. It was a great way to start the day.

Bedtime

One of my favorite parts of the day is Jack's bedtime. We've developed a routine that is a sweet and snuggly delight.

As soon as Jack's got his teeth brushed and his jammies on, we spread his big Sesame Street blanket on the bed. Usually we read a book (unless Jack's up late and I'm shortening things). Then, we all three cuddle on the blanket and talk about What We Liked.

Me: Today, I liked going running. And I liked playing in the back yard with Jack.
Steve: I liked going swimming with Jack and drinking coffee with Mommy.
Jack: I liked it... coo-ca!

Every single night, Jack leads with his same silly nonsense word and thinks he is the most hilarious guy ever. Sometimes, we can get him to give a straight answer, but he's always got to go for the gag first.

Then it's time to sing songs. If it's not especially late, we'll sing a couple of songs. Jack is a fan of "Jingle Bells," or we'll sing "Happy Birthday" to whoever the mood strikes -- Grandma, Chewbacca, whatever.

But the last song before we put Jack in his crib is always "Rainbow Connection." I've been singing it to Jack since he was a baby, and I love singing it with both of my guys. Jack is starting to learn the words to the song and will chime in as he wishes. The song ends with, "Da, da, da dee, da da dum! Da, da, da, da, da, dee, da dooo!" Jack always hits that last "Da doo!" and often Roary will sing it too, doing a little tiger dance as he belts it.

Then, the three of us do BIG HUGS, tiny hugs, BIG KISSES, and tiny kisses before we put Jack down in his crib.

That routine, however, is going to change a bit in the next few days. Yesterday, when Steve got Jack after his nap, he discovered that Jack had slung his leg over the top of the crib and was trying to climb out. Looks like it's time to transition to the Medium Boy Bed. Hopefully that'll go okay.

Achilles

This picture is of Brad Pitt as Achilles. See how lovely it is?

This picture is of the Achilles tendon. It's a hell of a lot less sexy than Brad Pitt. Mine is even less sexy at the moment, because the bastard is injured.

Ugh.

The pain started after today's run, which was actually an easy one. It was only three miles, I didn't run too hard, and I kept my route flat. The culprit, no doubt, was the 10K run I did yesterday, on a course that was described -- accurately -- as "hilly and challenging." Now, several hours and 8 Advil after the run, it still hurts, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't walk up a flight of stairs without swearing.

I have, over the years, run through plenty of injuries. Shin splints, well, those were no one's fault but my own. I ran the state cross country meet my sophomore year with a pulled muscle in my groin (hot). I plodded along with stress fractures for quite a while. But this one I am not screwing around with. I'm going to take off as much time as I need, down plenty of Advil, ice it, massage it with Icy Hot, buy some orthotics for my shoes, and generally baby it as much as I need to. Because I've decided to run the Des Moines marathon in October, and the last thing I need is to hurt myself worse later on down the line.

It's killing me to think I won't be able to go on my long run on Saturday, but I know it's for the best.

Home Sweet Home

I might not have gone through with the Take A Whole Bunch of Meth And Stay Up For Two Days Moving plan, but Steve and I did pretty much everything else to get us into Stately Wasser Manor as quickly as possible.

I was out running on Saturday and, of course, ran past the new house. It's just so pretty, all I want to do is look at it. Well, good thing I did, because the previous owners waved me down and told me that they were all moved out, and would I like the keys now?

Yay!

And no, I did not mind in the least that it meant interrupting my run. I am pretty sure I flew the rest of the way back to Temporary Wasser Manor, I was so happy with the news.

Steve and I got up bright and surly Sunday morning and got right to work loading up our cars and Doug's truck with as much of our stuff as we could carry. Jack contributed to the cause by carrying the DVD's of Potty Time With Elmo and The Empire Strikes Back made it to the house - along with Roary, of course.

On Monday, the movers emptied out our storage unit, we took last minute items from Temporary Wasser Manor, and boom! We were moved in... at least well enough for now. I still have some sweaters and stuff at my mom's house, but I do believe I can live without them for a little while longer.

It has been a lot of fun, believe it or not, unpacking boxes. There are things that I have not seen since March, and it's great having my stuff back. I'd forgotten how comfortable our blue couch is, and how much I like our silverware. And when I unpacked the coffee maker, I literally kissed it, I was so happy.

And speaking of happy, Jack loves his new house. He will occasionally point to a wall and say, "Roary, that Jack's new house!" He likes his big yellow bedroom and the vast toy area in our TV room, but most of all, he loves the big backyard. If Jack had his way, he'd spend most of every day running around, playing in his tent, kicking a ball, and generally sweating like a male member of the Green family, which, alas, he is. (I only sweat like a female member of the Green family, which is not quite as bad.)

The really cool thing is that I don't at all feel like I'm in someone else's house. Despite the boxes - and the fact that I don't have a dresser yet - I feel like I'm at home.

Mine!

Just a few short hours ago, I had the closing on Stately Wasser Manor. It's mine, baby! All mine! (And Steve's. And Jack's. But still!)

It was weirdly anticlimatic. I did this huge thing, and there was no one in the room but me and the attorney - Steve is at a writer's conference and gave me power of attorney. And the previous owners are staying in the house until Sunday afternoon, so I didn't even get a set of keys for my worries. So, I signed my name and "Stephen J. Wasser by Elizabeth A. Wasser, his attorney in fact" eighty gazillion times... and then that was that.

I didn't want to go right back to work, but what else was I going to do? Well, the only think I could think of was to buy us some really nice new sheets. And then go back to work!

After Sunday, though, things will really start rolling. The moving truck is going to get all of our stuff out of storage on Monday, and Steve and I are going to work on moving the things from Temporary Wasser Manor to Stately Wasser Manor.

The temptation is really great to just devote all of my non-work hours to getting SWM set up. One of my co-workers suggested I just take a whole lot of meth and just bang it all out. I don't see that happening, but I am tempted to just bag my morning runs, work at the house from 6:00 AM until 8:00 when I need to go wake up Jack, then stay up as late as I can stand unpacking. But I know that'd be a big mistake. Running is one of the things that's keeping me sane.

Under the Microscope

Dialogue from last night's dinner...

Jack: What doing, Mommy? Eating dinner? What that? That Mommy elbow! Jack have elbow, too. This Jack's elbow. Mommy has it water. Jack has it milk. What eating, Mommy? Mommy eating chicken, Mommy? Mommy use fork? Uh-oh! Chicken fall down!

Steve: Jack, stop analyzing Mommy.

Taking Names

It seems to me as though in the past week, we at Temporary Wasser Manor have gone beyond just kicking ass. We are, in fact, now taking names.

Everything is good to go on the new Stately Wasser Manor. Our home inspection went really well, and the few changes that I requested, the homeowners cheerfully did. Better still, our bank processed the mortgage in record time, which means that we are all set to close on Thursday, as planned.

Steve found a good moving company, and they'll get all of our stuff out of storage and into the new house on Monday. At the same time, our electric, phone, and internet will get hooked up. The next day, we'll have our new washer and dryer installed, and the fine folks at DirecTV will hook up a new dish for us for free.

On Sunday, we went furniture shopping. We got such tremendous bargains that we were able to furnish and make improvements to far more rooms than we'd anticipated. Steve and I have needed a bedroom set for about 12 years now, to improve upon the plain metal bedframe for our mattress and the dresser from his boyhood bedroom. We also finally found an entertainment center to hold the Ridiculously Large TV, along with matching end tables and a coffee table. I scored a gorgeous new dining room set with eight chairs and a china cabinet. I absolutely love the slate-top kitchen table, which is going to look freaking amazing in the kitchen. And Steve is turning cartwheels over the new desk for the office, with lots and lots of storage.

We picked out paint colors for the few rooms that we're going to repaint. They're going to look fabulous.

Steve got a really great job offer for a company that is known for being one of the best employers in the area. Among his benefits is discounted daycare.

And that daycare center? Wonderful. I checked it out today, and I absolutely loved it. It was bright and cheerful, and all of the kids were having a blast. I was especially impressed with Miss Toya, who is the lead teacher in the pre-K class, where Jack will be after he turns three. She showed me her detailed lesson plans, her records on all of her kids, and appears to be some kind of magical Mary Poppins person. I would not be remotely surprised if she took Jack into a chalk painting to dance with penguins.

Jack's got cool stuff going on, too. My mom and Doug got him a bed for when he's at their house, his first Big Boy Bed. Actually, since it's a toddler bed, I like to think of it as a Medium Boy Bed, but I won't tell Jack that. Anyway, the important thing is that it's shaped like a fire truck. Jack is beyond excited about it. Mom and Doug set it up for him this morning, so he'll have the option of either there or his crib. Jack immediately put his Elmo pillow in it and turned on his sound machine so he could take a practice nap.

What Is Wrong With Me Sometimes?

Oh, Internet.

You know how I've been dutifully training for the Quad City Marathon for almost two months now?

Yeah. Turns out I can't run that race.

I don't know how I screwed this one up, but we are leaving for Disney World on the 22nd of September and the race is on the 23rd. I could have sworn that Disney was the week before. My reactions included:

Son of a bitch!
Fucking hell!
Crap in a hat!

Then, when I got over huffing all over the place, I started to think about what my options are.

I could run the race as planned, then join the boys in Disney on the 24th. But I really didn't want to do that, because that would mean doing this big, important thing without my favorite cheerleaders there to support me.

We could ALL change our plane tickets to go to Disney on the 24th, missing a couple of days of our trip. But that doesn't seem like a good idea, either. Especially because it's not just the three of us - we're meeting extended family there. It's a whole big thing.

So, yeah: Crap in a hat!

I did come up with a third alternative - run a different marathon. I did some quick research and came up with a plan: run the Des Moines marathon on October 21. Seems like the best option - I'll be able to enjoy Disney World, plus I'll have my boys to support me at the race. I'm disapointed about not doing the QC Marathon because the course is so cool, but it'll be there next year. Besides, I can probably cheer myself up with a Des Moines training t-shirt.

Cooking

or... in which Betsy admits to some seriously anal-retentive tendencies

I recently got a question in the comments section from Cherylann wondering about a comment that I made on Spin Me I Pulsate about meal planning. So, here's the deal...

I am a working mom, and I serve a home-cooked dinner pretty much every night. How do I do it? Well, I have to admit, it's not that hard for me, but it does require some planning on my part. Here's how it works:

1. Every week, I spend some time going through cookbooks and deciding what I want to cook for the week. Often, as I'm doing this, I'll have the sales circular for the grocery store next to me. I don't totally live by this, but if chicken breasts are on sale, I'll make an effort to cook with chicken breasts to save some money.

Usually I cook about three meals a week, planning for leftovers and for us to either go out one night or do something simple like sandwiches. Later, when I'm feeling ambitious (and when I get all of my books back from the storage place where they're currently residing), I'll post a list of my favorites. I am also a fan of those little cookbook magazine things that they have by the checkout line at the grocery store. It's not the most sophisticated food in the world, but it's good stuff, easy to prepare, and typically fast. I have so many of those cookbooks that I actually started ripping out the recipes that I like. Those are then collected in a little binder so I don't have to go through a zillion little books to find what I need. I also make sure I note what side dishes will go with each meal.

2. After I choose the meals to cook, I make out a grocery list. I have a Word document that has a section for each section of the grocery store, written in the order in which I walk down the aisles. I'll then go through my coupons and see if there are any I can use. If there's a coupon for an item, I'll put a C next to that item so I'll remember. As I write the list, I double check to see if there are any staples that I'm running low on -- milk, eggs, whatever. I keep a bunch of the blank lists in a drawer in the kitchen, and if I run out of something during the week, I put it on the list and post it on the fridge. I also check with Steve to see if there's anything he wants for lunches, snacks, and so on through the week, so it goes on the list, too.

3. At the grocery store, I really pretty much just buy what's on the list. If there's some produce that looks especially good and is reasonably priced, I'll buy it. Snack foods, like chips or cookies, are expensive and I don't really need them in the house, so I tend to just not go down those aisles. I really stick very closely to the list.

4. Usually I do the grocery shopping on a Saturday. Then on Sunday, during Jack's nap, I do a marathon cooking session. I cook all three meals and put them in the fridge for us to heat up and eat during the week. I tend to not cook anything that doesn't reheat well, because if it's only good for one meal, it's not the best use of my time. If Steve really has a hankering for, say, the hoisin pork chops that don't reheat well, then we'll have them for dinner that Sunday night. Casseroles and soups are especially good for leftovers.

5. When possible, I make stuff in big batches. If I'm making spaghetti sauce or chili, for example, it's just as easy to make a huge vat of it as it is just a little bit. Leftovers go in the freezer, to be pulled out when needed. Or, if I'm making grilled chicken breasts for that night's dinner, I'll grill some extra, then we'll make chicken salad sandwiches or put it on a salad. Often, we will have salad with several meals during the week. When that's the case, I will make a ginormous salad. If you put a moistened paper towel on it (re-wetting throughout the week) in the fridge, it'll keep really well.

That's what works for me. It helps that, by nature, I am an organized person. The idea of just going to the grocery store, grabbing what looks good, and hoping for the best when it's time to make dinner... I just wouldn't know how to deal with that. I have heard from other people that they couldn't operate this way because "my husband doeesn't like leftovers." Thank Yoda that's not the case in my house, because leftovers rock. It's a good dinner that you didn't have to cook! All you had to do was microwave it. You don't like it? Fine, then cook me dinner.

Anyone else got any tips or questions?

When Jack Grows Up

I had a fascinating conversation with Jack last night. I asked him a bunch of questions on the subject of, "When You're a Grownup, Like Mommy." Here is Jack's vision of his life as a grown-up:

• He will live in a purple house.
• He won't drive a car because "that's Mommy's job." However, he will go bye-bye often, specifically to go shopping at Target and to see "Big Shrek movie."
• He will have a wife named Madison. She will be smart, pretty, and nice, and Steve and I will like her.
• He and Madison will make Shrek macaroni and cheese for dinner. He will make her pizza for breakfast every day.
• Roary will live with Jack and Madison and will sleep in their room with them.
• Sometimes, he will tell Madison that he is "a little upset" because he misses his MommyDaddy. I assured him that he and Madison can visit us whenever they want.

Marriage Tests

Things are really crazy and hectic at Temporary Wasser Manor at the moment. Shall we recap?

- Temporary Wasser Manor is only temporary, and therefore not ideal. There are times, for example, when I'd kill for a little more closet space.
- We're closing on the new Stately Wasser Manor in record time.
- We have eighty-three gazillion things to do.
- We need to spend a ton of money in a very short period of time. When we left SWM1, lots of little sundries got left behind. So now, for the first time since about 1995, I don't have any flour. Or laundry detergent. Or coffee, for Yoda's sake, to call my own. We are going to need to do some serious work to get New SWM fully operational.
- Steve is starting a new job soon.
- My own job is pretty darned new, too.
- Jack is two. 'Nuff said.
- We're in a new area, with no real friends yet.
- We need furniture.
- We need to find a good school for Jack to go to when Steve starts work.


The list goes on and on. Considering that when I'm stressed, I compulsively make lists, I have to stop myself from continuing. Suffice to say, we're swamped.

Well in the midst of all of this, the sellers of New Stately Wasser Manor offered to sell us their entertainment center. I really like what they've got, and it would be awesome not to have to spend more money buying something new, plus it's already where we'd want it to be. The issue is, would our monster TV fit in it? This TV is ridiculously big, so big that we have yet to find a non-ugly piece of furniture to house it, so big that if I tried to shove it across the floor, I'd probably hurt myself.

The TV, of course, is buried deep in our storage unit. Picture the storage area at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, only with stuff packed from floor to ceiling, with only the tiniest bit of air between items.

Still, we've got to know if this thing will work. After all, we'd be wasting our money if we bought this unit (hee, hee, unit) and it didn't work.

So, Steve and I took a break from our usual stress and took on some more stress. On a swelteringly hot day, we went to the storage space, armed with a tape measure and a flash light. I scaled boxes and rickety towers of chairs. I couldn't get to the TV itself, but I could get to the armoire that we know is just a little bit too short for the TV. We could measure that. (We did, and we found out that the new piece would be too small).

I am really proud of the fact that, despite the all encompassing stress that surrounds us at the moment, despite the incredibly hot weather, despite the scary risky box climbing, and despite the weirdness of the whole situation, Steve and I got along perfectly. No one got irritated with anybody, we didn't have a fight. It was actually kind of fun.

I know plenty of people who have had to take a class before getting married. Steve and I had to fill out some worksheets to see if our values were compatible. But I don't think that's nearly as telling as some basic real-life tests that couples encounter.

I think that before you get married, you should have to put up a Christmas tree together. A real tree, so you have to get the damned thing straight in the tree stand and get the lights on it. Then, you should have to assemble a piece of furniture from IKEA. If you still want to get married after that, then you can.

It seems appropriate that this most recent Marriage Test, one that we passed with flying colors, happened on Father's Day. I am incredibly lucky to be parenting Jack with such a great teammate. Happy Father's Day, Steve.

Running Commentary

I am getting really obsessive about the running.

In part, it's that I know I need to put in the effort if I want to finish my first marathon. But the bigger thing is that I just really, really love it.

On Saturday, Steve and I ran Race for the Cure. Techincally, I was supposed to do my long run on Saturday, and a 5K definitely doesn't cut it. But I really wanted to run the race, since it's always a fun one, so I decided the 5K would be a bonus run and that I'd just do my long run on Sunday.

Well, I really, really sucked at RFTC. I felt creeky, slow, and uncomfortable. My pace was really, really off. I tried not to freak out about it, but part of me was thinking, "If you're having trouble with a simple 3.1 miles, how are you going to do another 23.1?"

I decided to shrug it off, and Scarlett O'Hara about how tomorrow was another day. And sure enough, it was. I woke up on Sunday morning, ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and went on a 9 mile run. And it felt awesome. I was strong, and I felt like I could have kept on going. Better still, my pace was excellent. My average pace for the 9-miler was faster than I did for the 5K. That really did me a lot of good mentally.

And the run? So much fun. I went down to the river and looked at the Mississippi while most of the town, save a few guys fishing, was apparently still asleep. I had a spectacular mix on my iPod. I experimented with some new things I'll need as the runs get longer. I used a water bottle on a waist pack, which worked okay, and ate some gel at the halfway point. I swear to Yoda, I felt like I was powering up like in a video game. That stuff works (or at the very least, works on my brain). I'll be buying more for future long runs. I felt happy and proud of myself all day.

Monday was a rest day, and on Tuesday, instead of getting up at 6:00, I slept so Steve could sleep. By the time evening rolled around, I was itching to get into my running shoes. Ran 3 miles and it felt like nothing, just a pleasant stretch of time to myself. And this morning, I was set for a five miler. I decided to run to our new house, partially to see it again, partially to find out how far away it is from Temporary Wasser Manor. It was four miles, so I ran for five, then walked back to TWM. I'm already planning on going for another run tonight so I can have tomorrow free to celebrate our anniversary (ten years!) with Steve.

Running is definitely becoming a big part of my life again. I feel healthy, strong, and more centered for it.

Happy Birthday, Roary!

Not so long ago, Roary was just a random stuffed animal floating around our house. He was a present Jack got from his Grammy and Pappy, along with a book with a tiger on the cover. Jack liked him well enough, but no more than any other stuffed animal.

But last June, Steve was away for a week on a fishing trip on Canada, and I think Jack needed a little extra love and comfort. All of a sudden, I noticed that Jack had that tiger with him everywhere. If I look back at my pictures from that time, Roary is in just about all of them.

He and Jack quickly became inseperable. Jack spends most of his time with Roary tucked under his arm. When he's tired or just needs some comfort, he rubs Roary's tail. The two of them talk all the time, Jack whispers secrets into his ear, and reads his favorite books to Roary.

Jack and Roary have been through a lot together in the past year. Some of it was funny - like the times Jack snuck Roary into the bathtub with him, the incident in which Jack found some of the backup tigers (we have four Roaries), and when Jack decided that the tigers at the zoo were Roary's "mommy-daddy."

But some of it has not been so fun. Roary was there with him when he had the stomach flu, when he had to get the stitches in his ear, on all of our vacations, and helping him adjust to Temporary Wasser Manor and all the changes that meant in his life. When Jack went in for his surgery, I honestly felt a lot better knowing that Roary was with him, even when I couldn't be. It meant a lot to me to see him, still under anesthesia, but with Roary on his chest, the two of them in matching eye patches. I find myself in the odd position of being grateful to a stuffed tiger.

The least I could do, I figured, was have a birthday party for Roary. So, the four of us (because we are really such a foursome at this point that Roary was in our latest family portrait) celebrated the day that Roary changed from being a toy to being Jack's best friend. I made cupcakes, Jack helped him blow out his candle, and insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" to Roary several times.

Happy birthday, Roary. You're the best friend a kid could have.

Stately Wasser Manor

Look!

It's a brand new Stately Wasser Manor!

Can you tell by the two sentences ending in exclamation points that I'm excited about it? Well, I am. The house is gorgeous. Steve and I fell in love with it pretty much immediately. It's in a quiet, pretty, tree-lined neighborhood, but also two blocks from a grocery store and one block from a park. There are four bedrooms, so we'll be able to have both a guest room and an office. There's a living room that will be a comfortable place to watch TV. The kitchen is freaking gorgeous, with new stainless appliances. There's a partially finished basement that we will use as a playroom when Jack gets older. The back yard is ginormous. And the best room in the house is a family room off the kitchen with vaulted ceilings, a picture window, gas fireplace, and a bright, airy feel.

Better still, it'll be ours soon. We're scheduled to close on 6/28 and move in starting 7/1.

Things are really coming together for us. Because at the same time, Steve just got a new job. I feel like the three of us are really going to start turning this into our home.

tiny procrastination...

Okay, I have a ton of stuff to write about. So, why not skip all of that for now and answer a meme?

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:
Momified Me
BumbleBee Sweet Potato
Spin Me I Pulsate
DaisyBones

There are questions:

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I'd just graduated from college and was getting ready for my wedding - Steve's and my 10th wedding anniversary is on Thursday. My days were spent doing little last minute things, hanging out with family, and waiting for my friends to arrive for the wedding party fun.

Five Snacks You Enjoy:
Apples
Grapes
Chocolate chip cookies
Veggies and dip
Hummus and pita

Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To:
Rainbow Connection, Kermit T. Frog
Dancing Nancies, Dave Matthews Band
When I'm 64, The Beatles
It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I feel fine) REM
Love Like We Do, Edie Brickell and New Bohemians

Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire:
Pay cash for a new Stately Wasser Manor
Put a huge chunk of money in Jack's college fund
Buy a hybrid car
Buy new furniture for a new Stately Wasser Manor
Go on a fabulous vacation with the boys

Five Bad Habits
Playing with my hair
Swearing
Chewing my pens
Talking on the phone while driving
Picking at my fingernails

Five Things You Like To Do
Run
Read
Go to the movies
Cook
Play outside with Jack

Five Things You Would Never Wear Again
Tapered leg pants
A bikini (thanks, Jack)
Leggings
Acid washed jeans
Overalls (which I think are only cute on little kids, pregnant women, and my grandmother)

Are you reading this? Consider yourself tagged, punk.

Local Restaurants

The always awesome WeirdGirl tagged me with my very first meme. The rules are this:

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.

Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, United States)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Lulu (Chicago, Illinois, United States)
Chris (Boyne City,
Michigan, United States)
AB (Cave Creek, Arizona,
United States)
Johnny Yen (Chicago,
Illinois, United States)
Bubs (Mt Prospect,
Illinois, United States)
Mob (Midland, Texas United States)
Yas (Ahwatukee, Arizona USA)
Alicia(Idaho Falls, Idaho, USA)
Tug(Hell, Colorado,
USA)
BondMemphis, TN, USA)
TopChamp
(Glasgow, UK)
Kailani
(Honolulu, HI, USA)
Amber
(Henderson, TN, USA)
the weirdgirl (San Francisco Bay Area, CA,  USA (I'm still pretending to be an anonymous blogger))
CoffeeBetsy, Moline, IL USA

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

3. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.

Weird Girl is right that I just moved to where I am now, but I do think I can scrape together my five favorite places of the moment. In time, I know I'll find new stuff, but here are my favorites right now.

1. Whitey's Ice Cream, various locations in the Quad Cities: It could be argued that Whitey's is not a restaurant, in that they only serve ice cream. But that person wouldn't have the same priorities as I do, because good Yoda, this stuff is so good. My favorite thing there is a shake made from kona coffee ice cream with chopped up Skor bar (an entire candy bar, in large pieces). It is completely awesome, and so thick they don't even bother to give you a straw. But even their frozen yogurt is good.

2. The River House, Moline: Great location in downtown Moline, just a block away from the Mississippi River, and right next to John Deere Pavillion, where Jack likes to look at the big tractors. They have all kinds of great food -- from bar food like burgers and homemade chips, to fish, to meatloaf. They have great outdoor seating, friendly service, and totally reasonable prices.

3. Belgian Village Inn, Moline: Belgian Village makes this killer Ruben sandwich, a sandwich I ordinarily don't even like. They serve it hot on homemade raisin bread. And the sandwich is about the size of two normal sandwiches. Steve and I split one for dinner the other night and had some left over, and the whole thing was about seven bucks. They also have really good breakfasts, including a cinnamon roll the size of a dinner plate.

4. Centro, Davenport: Very good Italian bistro with fabulous salads and pasta. It's about a block away from my office, but unfortunately the service is kind of slow, so it doesn't work for lunch usually.

5. Lagomarcinos, Moline and Davenport: Um, I must have some kind of problem, because this is indeed the second ice cream place on my list. In fairness, Lago's also serves food, so I am not completely pathetic. The place is adorable, an old fashioned soda and candy shop. I love their tuna melt, but always save room for a hot fudge sundae.

Okay, I am tagging these people: Mama Asco, Sandy, Daisy Bones, Felicia, and K.

Battle-Fight!

Yesterday, I suprised Jack with the Most Awesome T-Shirt Ever. I ordered it from Zazzle, which is a site that could be very financially dangerous for me. The shirt has a picture of the pivotal lightsaber battle (or, as Jack would put it, "Battle-Fight" from The Empire Strikes Back.

Side note: I totally should have ordered matching shirts for Steve and me so that we could have the world's geekiest Christmas card picture.

Jack was so thrilled with his new shirt that he was momentarily speechless. Then, he tugged at the shirt he was wearing and complained that it was "all dirty." He's a subtle one, that Jack. Naturally, he changed into his new Battle-Fight shirt and strutted around, all proud.

He has gotten really creative with his playing. First there were the drumsticks that have been transformed into lightsabers so that he (as Darth Vader) can battle-fight me (Princess Leia) or Steve (Luke).

Jack mixed things up the other day, though. Instead of using his lightsaber, he used a blaster -- that being a Baby Shrek toy from McDonald's, which looks nothing like a blaster and gives credence to the theory that boys will turn anything into a weapon. He decided he wasn't Vader, but instead was Luke. And that Darth Vader had gotten into his crib and needed to be blasted.

Hearing Jack say, "Oh, no! Vader in my crib again! Need blaster. Pew! Pew! Pew! Got him!" is just fabulous. He is such a mix right now between baby and kid.

Twelve Sharp

I like the occasional Quarter Pounder from McDonald's. I know they're not good for me, and I know I could get a better burger somewhere else. But they're cheap and easy, and sometimes they really hit the spot. But there is the rare occasion in which you get an exceptionally good Quarter Pounder. It was cooked just recently, so it's perfectly hot and the cheese is melted just right. The condiments are distributed evenly across the burger, and the bun is soft and fluffy. It's still junk food, but it's awfully damned good junk food.

Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum books are like that really good Quarter Pounder. And sometimes, on a sunny day, they really hit the spot.

The one I read most recently was Twelve Sharp. The plot is fun, since it includes plenty of Ranger hotness and a great subplot about Lula forming a punk bad with Sally Sweet and Granny Mazar. It was a fast, funny read, and I totally enjoyed it.

I Love You, Beth Cooper

In debate team nerd Denis Cooverman's valedictorian speech, he makes a bold declaration of love to head cheerleader Beth Cooper. As you might imagine, this does not result in the two of them riding off into the sunset together. For one thing, Beth has no idea who Denis is. For another, Beth's very big and very scary boyfriend Kevin is none too impressed by Denis's making a move on his girl.

The book, by Larry Doyle, begins each chapter with a quote from a teen movie. John Hughes movies are prominently featured, of course, as are Rushmore, Heathers, and American Pie. That's appropriate, because this book reads just like a really well done teen movie.

Yes, at times it's a little too cute and knowing for its own good (references to "diet Cherry Vanilla Lime-Kiwi Coke," for example), but it's a quick, fun, funny read.

Two Adults and One Child

Hooray! My boys are back home. Steve and Jack had a great time visiting my stepmom, but we all missed each other a lot. Jack gave me a mighty Flying Tackle Hug when I greeted him on Saturday, and it was by far the greatest moment of my week.

The three of us celebrated by taking Jack to his very first movie in the theater. (Because I am not counting those Baby and Me movies we went to when he was an infant.) Our choice was, of course, Shrek 3

This attempt at seeing a movie in the theater worked much, much better than our failure to see Happy Feet at Thanksgiving. Jack is six months older, so that helped his attention span, but more importantly, his Princess Fiona obsession really primed him for this movie. He sat in our laps for 95% of the movie, spending the rest of it standing just in front of us. He wasn't exactly quiet, but I didn't feel too badly about that. If you see a cartoon at 9:45 in the morning on a Sunday, you shouldn't expect a completely silent and adult atmosphere.

It made Steve and me really happy that Jack had such a good time at the movies. Going to movies is one of our favorite things to do, and it's great that Jack will be able to join us sometimes. It felt pretty big to use the phrase, "two adults and one child."

*sob*

On the phone last night...

Jack: Hi, Mommy!
Me: Hi, Cub! How are you?
Jack: A little sad.
Me: You're a little sad?
Jack: I miss Mommy.
Me: I'm a little sad, too. I miss you, too, Jack.
Jack: Yeah.
Me: I'll see you in a couple of days, okay?
Jack: Okay, Mommy.

I managed to get through that whole conversation without crying, but it wasn't easy. I'm actually a lot sad, and I miss my Cub more than I can say.

The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer

Let's get one thing straight right away: I am not a "non-runner." I have been running since I was about nine years old. I earned varsity letters in cross country and track all four years of high school. In fact, at the peak of my training, I was running an average of ten miles. I've run countless road races, and I know how to pace myself, stretch, do interval workouts, use proper running form, and all of that good stuff. I also know about injuries -- which ones I can run through (shin splints, sore muscles, the tail end of a pulled muscle) and which ones I can't (two stress fractrues). I also have really come to realize since Jack was born how important running is to my mental health.

Despite that, I found this book -- The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer -- to be both helpful and inspiring. The book was inspired by a course taught at the University of Northern Iowa simply called Marathon. Class members train for and run a marathon together, and 199/200 of the participants have met their goal and finished the race. That is pretty darned impressive. The authors believe that the secret to their success is not just the physical training, but also the mental training.

Each chapter represents a week of the training program and is divided into three sections -- the physical part of training, the mental part of training, and anecdotes from participants in the class.

The physical stuff is pretty basic, and I'm not following the training program set forth in the book. I'm using Hal Hidgon's program, which is pretty much the same. But the mental aspect was very interesting. The book is full of ways to maintain a positive outlook, so that you have the confidence that you can haul yourself through 26.2 miles, to build mental toughness, to achieve flow (a sort of zen state where it's just you and your feet), and to concentrate so you can focus on the task at hand. The anecdotes from other runners were also interesting. I liked reading in plain language what a first time marathoner's experience was like.

I got this book from the library, and I'll probably check it out and re-read parts of it before the race.

The one comment in the book really rang true for me. If you're going to run a marathon, you need to make time for training. You can make time for training if you make yourself a priority as much as everything else in your life. It's easy for me to take care of other people, but it's more of a challenge for me to make time to take care of myself. Through running, I am able to take time every day that is 100% for me.

Miracle

Saturday morning, Steve, Princess Fiona, and I loaded into the car for the six hour drive to visit my stepmom. Along the way, something comepletely miraculous happened: Jack entertained himself the entire time.

I know. I can't believe it either.

Usually, whoever's not driving has to sit in the backseat and provide all kinds of in-flight entertainment, from reading books to singing songs to performing with puppets. But this time, Jack contentedly blasted imaginary bad guys with his lightsaber, "read" books, and jammed along with my awesome Toddler Mix on the iPod. We stopped for lunch and Jack said, "Jack no go Donald's. Jack go Mawmaw's house." I promised him we'd go to Mawmaw's house after lunch, and that Donald's would have Shrek toys to look at, so he decided it'd be okay to take a break. Also, there was a Starbuck's next to the 'Donald's, so it was clearly an important place for us to stop.

After lunch, Steve decided he was too tired to drive or to hang out with Jack, so we put on the Shrek DVD for him. Towards the end, Jack wanted to also chat with us. Specifically, he wanted to have a fanboy conversation about "battle-fights." I swear, it could not be more obvious that he is our kid. We debated who would win in a battle-fight - Yoda or Shrek (Yoda, duh), Princess Fiona or Darth Vader (Jack and I are going to have to agree to disagree on that one), Spider-Man or Elmo, and so on.

As much as it occasionally pains me that he is growing up, I really like that he is becoming more and more of a real person, not just a little blob of need.

Manly!

Jack is losing manliness points left and right these days, and it's cracking me up. The other day, we were driving, and from the backseat, I heard this.

Jack: Mommy, you Shrek. Hi, Shrek!
Me: Hi! Who are you. Are you Donkey?
Jack: No. Roary Donkey.
Roary: (in lower voice than usual) Hi, Shrek!
Me: Hi, Donkey! Donkey, who is Jack?
Jack: (in incredibly high voice) I'm Princess Fiona! Hi, Shrek!
Me: Hi, Princess Fiona!
Jack: Hi, Shrek!
(and repeat)

Jack absolutely loves being Princess Fiona, and has since assigned Steve to be Princess Fiona's Daddy, the king. My mom is Dragon (who Jack calls Dragonfly, since she can fly), and Doug is Puss In Boots. Why he opted to be the princess and let me be Shrek is a mystery to me, but whatever; it's funny.

The manliness continues, though. Yesterday, Steve took Jack to get a haircut. We take him to a place called Cookie Cutters because you can sit in a toy car, fire truck, or whatever and watch cartoons while they cut your hair. And then you get a balloon, so Jack loves the place. The stylist asked Jack if he wanted to watch Cars or Dora. She guessed he'd pick Cars, since you not only get to watch the movie, but also sit in McQueen himself. But nope, Jack headed right over to the Dora station, complete with baby blue Barbie car. All Steve could do was laugh.

In other news, the boys and I are going on a road trip this weekend to visit my stepmom, Vickie. It's a six hour drive, so we stocked up on car activities for Jack (including Dora stickers), and I made a completely awesome playlist for Jack on my iPod. It consists of songs that he will like but that don't make me want to stab my ears with a fork. There's a lot of Laurie Berkner and Justin Roberts, some relatively non-offensive Wiggles, and lots of stuff from movie soundtracks. Lion King. Little Mermaid. Toy Story.

The amusing side effect of that is that this morning, when I was on my SEVEN MILE RUN, the song that came on as I was heading down the home stretch was none other than "We Did It!" as sung by Ms. Dora The Explorer and Boots. I actually found myself picking up the pace as Dora and Boots sang about their triumph in helping some puppies.

Completely Obnoxious

I've officially started my training program to run the Quad Cities Marathon on September 23. I finished Week 1 and am heading right into the second week. And you know what? It's so awesome that I fear I am going to become completely obnoxious about it.

I have always wanted to run a marathon, and by Yoda, I am going to do it this year. I feel really strong from all of the running, and I'm confident that the increased miles in the weeks ahead will make me feel even stronger. And today, I opted to get up an hour early and run, which has me feeling positive and energized.

I do believe that for me to meet my goal (which is simply to finish) I need to be at least a little bit obnoxious. I have to be positive and confident that I can do this very difficult thing. I have to be dedicated and focused, to make sure I get in all of my training runs and take care of myself to avoid injury. And I have to be excited about the whole thing.

Pop Culture Roundup

We've got all kinds of good news in the world of fluffy pop culture, people.


The nightmare is over! Sensitive and intelligent singer-songwritter John Mayer and orange big boobied bubblehead Jessica Simpson have broken up! Hoo-ray. Now let's hope that the two of them switch to someone of roughly equal intelligence. Such as Natalie Portman or Kate Winslett for John, and perhaps a trained chimp for Jessica.


Melinda Doolittle got the boot on American Idol.

Yes, she's a good singer. And I'm sure she's a lovely person. But you know what? I cannot, for the life of me, imagine buying a Melinda Doolittle CD or going to one of her concerts. The woman has a huge charisma deficit, and that's something, the x-factor, as Simon puts it, that changes you from being a really good singer to being a star. Jordin and Blake both have starpower. I can defintely see myself buying a Blake Lewis CD, and if Jordin goes with fun, pop music (rather than her standing around in an evening gown singing ballads), I'd probably download some of her stuff to listen to. But Melinda? Nice, but boring.

Oh, okay.

Last night, we had yet another fascinating conversation at Temporary Wasser Manor. Jack and I were watching American Idol (gigantic shocker) when this went down.

Jack: Jack want it boo-abies.
Me: What?
Jack: Jack want it boobies.
Me: ...
Jack: Boobies!
Me: Um, okay, buddy.
Jack: (pointing to his plate) Jack want more boobies.
Me: Oh, are you saying blueberries?
Jack: Yes!
Me: Oh, okay, then.