Just a report

...that the drive back to Chicago has gone much better. Aside from turning around and going back to my Aunt and Uncle's house because I thought I left my phone at their home, only to discover it was in my purse the whole time, it was a pretty non-eventful evening.

Hopefully the remaining half goes just as well!

Tour Del Sur: The Beginning...

As deep as my love is for our Chicago home, this summer's weather has been far from summery. As of July 7th, there had only been one week of hot, sunny weather. The rest had either been cold, cool, cloudy, rainy, or all of those.

Back in January, we made the 10-hour drive to Alabama to visit the Henriksen Compound (6 cousins their 10 children, grandma, grandpa, aunt and uncle all in one county) as well as to escape the -30* winter chill. I never thought 6 months later, I would find myself heading back down to Alabama to again to escape the cold.

In addition to being annoyed with the weather, I've been feeling a little anxious lately to take advantage of our current family state. Cade and Savannah can both communicate using words (not always a good thing, but it does help to hear requests spoken in the English language rather than the pre-talking moany whine), can walk, feed themselves, and use a toilet. I am not puking my guts out, feeling sea sick, or using the restroom 54 times a day (which would be commonplace if I was expecting). As such, I planned trips to Alabama and Virginia this month looking forward to enjoying them with the luxuries of good health and relatively independent children.

Taking trips (and trips they are. I was corrected by a friend when I initially referred to them as vacations that these were NOT vacations. Vacations are when it's the entire family or just husband and wife. When it is the children and one parent, it is a trip!) during the summer also come at a cost. While it is fun to get away and see friends and family, it is also not easy, because Kyle is not able to come with. Back before our plumbing fun, driving the 10 hours alone with the kids was not even an option. I was set on flying to Bama and renting a car once I got there. After shelling out the equivalent of the plane tickets and a rental car on a single piece of plumbing, I decided if I wanted to come to Alabama, I needed to bite the bullet and make the drive.

I admit, many days I reconsidered this. Heavens, my children cannot even last a 7 minute car ride without muderous screams and fights. I could not picture myself handling 10 hours of them in the car on my own.

I finally figured out that if I left early evening just after feeding the kids dinner, and put them in their jammies, I could do the majority of the drive then, while it was bedtime, when they are generally better-behaved, and I am the most alert. I could stop at a hotel when I was tired, and finish the remaining few hours the next day.

So, the target-time on Tuesday was 5pm. I realized this had to be a flexible time. A, because this is me we are talking about. I need flexibility! B. When children are involved, anything can happen. C. Our GPS broke and UPS was delivering a new one sometime on Tuesday. I didn't want to leave without it.

This was my plan:
At 2pm I would put Savannah down for a nap. During this time I had mentally scheduled to do all the packing and straightening up of the house. Then, when she woke up, I'd feed the kids dinner. While they ate, I would load up the car and finish odds and ends. We'd pull out of the driveway at about 5:30. The kids would talk and be excited for the first hour about the idea of taking a trip. They would read, play with toys, chill in their seat until about 8, at which point they would both fall asleep and I could drive in peace and quiet for another 5 hours or so. I'd check in at a hotel sometime around 1am. The kids would ease back to sleep and I'd get a good 7 hours before they arose. We'd have breakfast Wednesday morning and then be on our way. We'd arrive in Huntsville just in time to check into the hotel and for Savannah to have her afternoon nap. We'd meet up with the family for dinner and I'd put the kids down for bed at 8.

Doable, right?

This it what really happened:

At 2:15 pm after putting Savvy down, I suddenly (funny how that happens) realized that I was feeling rather tired myself. It was quickly decided it was important for me to drive well-rested. So I took a nap.

Savannah woke up an hour later. I panicked realizing not only how much I had to do, but how much I had to do with both my children awake.

I began the packing/cleaning/making dinner craze while the kids vegged in front of Barb's big screen (I canot lie. Having her TV to use has certainly had its benefits. When we move, I will miss it.).

Also, Kyle's GPS still had not come.

The kids ate around 5:30, then I bathed them. They were put back in front of the big screen. I packed. The neighbor kids came over to say goodbye and helped me load the car around 6:30. Kyle told me the GPS wouldn't be delivered until the next day. {mini-panic session. I didn't have a map. I'd have to rely on lame yahoo directions which are never good.} I then began straightening things up, putting laundry away, and doing other miscellaneousthings I wanted to be done with before I left.

I put the kids in the car at 8:30. Kyle came home at 9pm, to find me still running around the house putting things away and making last minute preparations. Oh don't worry dear, the kids have only been waiting in the car for 30 minutes, I reassured him. He laughed. Only 30 minutes? At 9pm I dropped by our old house across the street to give the new owner another key I found. I've been dying to see the inside (heard she put in some new tile) but haven't been brave enough to knock on her door. She was having a bonfire with some friends in the backyard so I didn't even have a chance to glance in the doorway. Bummer.

Finally at 9:30 I was pulling out of the driveway. I decided to check my voicemail a few miles into the trip. My mom had left a message telling me that we were going to do family pictures in Alabama and that we were all going to wear white shirts. I debated for a few minutes, and finally decided to turn around and get the shirts. Kyle had another good laugh that I was back. At 10pm we were on the road, for real.

So I thought.

At a stop light just before getting on the freeway, a man motioned to me something. Nervously I rolled down the window, half expecting to be hi-jacked for doing so. The man kindly said, "Ma'am, your back lights aren't working."

At all? I asked.

"not at all ma'am. No rear lights working at all"

The light turned green. I called Kyle, feeling totally defeated, positive I was going to have to turn around and just sleep in my own bed for the night.

He told me to pull over and explained how to put the right fuse back in its slot to make the lights come back on.

Easy as pie. At 10:15, I really, really was on the road.

FIVE hours past target time.

The kids fell asleep around 11, but didn't stay asleep long. I stopped in Franklin, Indiana at 3am, with both kids wide awake. We got to the hotel room and Savannah was thrilled, jumping on the beds. Cade, on the otherhand was coughing so hard he began throwing up.

We all finally fell asleep at 4:15am.

The kids were up at 8:45, so as such, I was, too. We ate breakfast, bathed, and packed up. I was moving very slowly.

We checked out at noon, trying to be ready for a full day of driving ahead of us.

I fed the kids lunch while gassing up (love go-gurts) and thought it would be cool if we could drive the next 6 hours without stopping once. !?!?

1 hour later Cade had to go to the bathroom.

3 hours later I got lost going through Nashville and wasted 45 minutes trying to get on the right highway again. It's embarrassing how badly I need a GPS to navigate for me.

With 20 miles to go, I made a wrong turn and added another hour to our trip. Cade heard me tell him "Don't worry, hon! We'll be there in about 20 minuntes" three times. I was serious all three times.

We finally pulled into the hotel parking lot at about 7:50pm.

Needing the kids to burn some energy we went to the pool. What happened there really melted all the day's woes. More on that later.

Pizza was delivered to our room at 11pm. The kids were finally put to bed at midnight.

Moral of the story:
Bad idea: target times. I'll feel like a failure quite nearly every hour of the day because I won't make them.
Good idea: trips. They force schedules out the window and me to deal with life with a "go with the flow" mentality, which does not come by me naturally. At all.

Real Men Wear Pink

It is hard to see myself getting old. I see more of the top of my scalp everyday when I brush my teeth and no matter what angle I look in the mirror the hair doesn't grow back. I am going bald. There is not much I can do about it, and that is ok.

What is more depressing and really heart breaking is seeing my parents get old. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer 1 year ago today. I remember being 8 years old and practicing wrestling moves in our living room so I would do well in a tournament. I remember as a toddler my mom driving a bus and me sitting in a car seat right behind her. I remember my mom coaching my soccer teams when I was in elementary school and then reffing the games in high school. I remember my mom giving me ideas to ask girls on dates in high school because I was too afraid. I remember my mom writing me every week on my mission to the Philippines. My mom is amazing. It is difficult not being near her at this crucial time in her life, especially since she has always been there for me.

Right now my mom manages two pizza stores full-time. Most people would have a difficult time doing that, but she does it while being treated for breast cancer receiving chemo-therapy and radiation. I know sometimes it is hard but she has had a positive attitude and been an inspiration to me.

Today I bought 5 ties. One for me and each of my brothers that say "real men wear pink" and have the breast cancer ribbon in the tie pattern. We wear that in support of my mom and all that she is going through.

Mom, we love you!

.

Spizznoiled!

Dear Cade and Savvy,

That is what you were last week: spizznoiled.

I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself (don't act so surprised, you know I'm a pro at that) and enjoy the summer. Isn't that what summer is all about? Summer is supposed to be joy, sun, rainstorms, pool, vacation, sleep..... freedom!

Right?

I sometimes forget your dad exists during the summer, and as such I let more depressing and oppressing words take the place of those other fun-loving summer adjectives. Words like stress, exhaustion, I'm-going-to-shoot-myself, and single-motherhood creep into my mind when there is mention of summer. That's not fair to you guys.

You have to agree though, the weather here was not helping. Rain and temperatures in the fifties for the entire week. It didn't feel like summer. Fortunately at some crucial and epiphanic moment, and I don't really recall what spurred it along [perhaps Cade, it was your loving but honest statement while getting your PJs on one evening: "Mom, you were kind of grumpy today."], I decided I'd agree with the famous unknown/reknowned/anonymous/nobel prize winning philospher who said that happiness is a choice. It was time to take advantage of this interesting state of being/habitation/nomadification that our little family is in and have some fun with you while we are relatively flexible with our time.

I am ashamed/proud to admit that we live about 6.5 minutes away from a train station and I took it for the first time last week with you two! It took all this time for me to brave it. But, now that I know it, it's something I will definitely do with you again.... Well, Cade moreso you than Savvy. No offense, Sav, but you wore me out.

The train-- I loved it, and I felt all green and car-pooly riding with so many people thinking of how many cars on the road we were eliminating by riding the train. You don't know how lucky you are that Ben and Olivia's mom was up for the adventure, too!

I hope you never forget when we arrived in the city and the sky opened to a torrential downpour. And that once it subsided enough that only one side of our bodies got wet under the umbrella, we piled in a taxi to take us to the Planetarium and Shedd Aquarium. It was a fun and friend-filled day and I hope you remember it forever. Really, I hope you remember last week forever.

You played at the Children's Museum, swam at the gym, had friends over, went out to ice cream with Gramma Barb, rode the Colonial Cow, and went to a baseball game complete with 2 orders of cotton candy, ice cream, popcorn, and fireworks. I hope those were enough good memories for you to forget the grouchy mom you've been living with.

Spoiled! Yes, I know. I am, too. It's easy for me this time of year to forget how blessed I am to be able to stay home with you and share these memories with you. Even the bad, ehhh... hard days. You are so worth it. (You so endearingly reinforced that thought by falling asleep at 7:20 tonight. Thank you!)

Did you notice, as if heaven decided to reward me for my attitude change that last Saturday we were graced with the most hot and humid day of the year?! It was beautiful. And it's been hot every day since. This week we've enjoyed the pool almost every day and have welcomed this heat wave with open arms.

Here's to more summer memories to come!

Your Reformed Grump,

Mommy

___________________________________________________________

Here you both are, thrilled to an alarming degree to be waiting for the train . . .

Cade, you are completely in your element here. "Penguin" should have been your middle name.

You were so pleased with the wardrobe change you even gave me a smile, Cade! Nothing like a penguin outfit that fits.

Who needs tickets to the Planetarium and Aquarium when you've got a round marble table thingy to play on?

Your Daddy despises face-less pictures, but I still think this one is cute. You two never look at the camera anyway.

Our token Mother/Daughter shot in front of the Chicago skyline.

I can just see it now, "Hi Mom! This is my new boyfriend Joe!"

Even though we just met, sure. You can kiss me.

We all scream for Colonial Ice Cream! Thanks, Barb for treating us to delicious scoops of heaven.

Giddyup! Oh wait. I mean, Mooooooo.

Mine.

Nothing like a tub of cotton candy to bring friends and siblings together.

Our darling Savannah, uncensored.

Happy Pappy's Day- Part One

I saw this darling questionnaire on a family' member's blog and had the kids answer the questions. At first it was like pulling teeth to get Cade to sit down, but once he did, he had a lot of fun with the questions. I have to point out that they answered these separately, yet managed to answer very similarly. It cracked me up.

In addition to this priceless questionnaire, Kyle received Reeses Puffs cereal from Savannah and Five gum from Cade. Both were hopeful Kyle would share his gifts immediately upon opening, which is why they chose to give him what they did in the first place! Savvy is our cereal girl, and Cade loves gum. How thoughtful.

WHAT WE THINK ABOUT DADDY!

1. What is something Dad always says to you?

Cade: He loves me.

Savannah: I love you.

2. What makes Dad happy?

Cade: when I tell him funny things and he laughs.
Savannah: I love you.

Michelle: A great day of sales in the office.
3. What makes Dad sad?
Cade: When Savannah hits him
Savannah: If I hit him.

4. How does Dad make you laugh?
Cade: when he wrestles me.
Savannah: he wrestles me.

5. What was Dad like as a kid?
Cade: I don’t know
Savannah: he ride a bike.

6. How old is Dad?
Cade: Uh I don’t know the number.
Savannah: Seven.

7. How tall is Dad?
Cade: Twenty-eight.

Savannah: Seven.

8. What is Dad's favorite thing to do?
Cade: hunting.
Savannah: he wrestles me. I’m a princess.

9. What does Dad do when you're not around?

Cade: he’s at work.

Savannah: to work.

10. Why does your Dad love Mom?

Cade: Because he went married.

Savannah: because he wrestles you.

11. What is Dad really good at?
Cade: building stuff like houses, or working at machines, or work or killing bugs.
Savannah: exercising.

12. What is Dad not really good at?
Cade: catching fish.
Savannah: probably….

13. What is Dad's job?
Cade: Uhhh…hmmm…to….to do some work and keep the house clean (?) just like Jose. Work on computers and do a lot of work stuff.
Savannah: I don’t know. I just teasing! He rides bikes!

14. What is Dad's favorite food?
Cade: Potatoes and pears and fruit… and he loves pop, a lot of candy, cookies….and, hmm…and that’s all, because he doesn’t like chocolate at all.
Savannah: Pasta, yogurt, and candy.

15. What makes you proud of Dad?
Cade: Racing and doing a running race or rolling a ball like bowling.

Savannah: Sad

16. If Dad were a video game character, who would he be?
Cade: uhhh…a worker man.

Savannah: ??

17. What do you and Dad do together?
Cade: I play with him and wrestle him and we go to the gym and I do some exercise like basketball and I run around and I play baseball and I ride bikes and I play soccer.
Savannah: I wrestle him!

18. How are you and Dad the same?
Cade: I have the same eyes.

Savannah: I dunno!

19. How are you and Dad different?
Cade: Not the same size.
Savannah: I dunno!

20. How do you know Dad loves you?
Cade: because he tickles me and Savannah.

Savannah: he wrestles me!

21. Where is Dad's favorite place to go?
Cade: To the gym and McDonalds and go to work and he loves to work hard.

Savannah: To work.

Despite my utter loathing for the sport (no substantial reason other than it is just creepy to me guys rolling all over each other in those far-from-attractive jerseys), wrestling has become a dominating factor in why my children love their Dad, which is pretty apparent in the questionnaire. Lucky for you, here are some action packed shots of what a typical Sunday summer evening is like in the Woodbury household:

Let's all jump on Daddy!

A choke hold with the legs. Savvy loved this one as you can tell by her attempt to grin.

This time it was Cade's turn to try a leg-lock move. I don't think his legs should be able to contort like that without making a cracking sound, don't you think?

Savvy's favorite WWF move:

Though it doesn't look like it, Savannah is mid-slap here in this shot. She was really taking pleasure out of hitting the daylights out of Kyle's shin. It shouldn't come as a shock to me that even when I try to catch her with a camera, she looks guileless and cute. That is Savannah's personality to a T!

He's in a head lock and still smiling....

the end.

Is today a Holiday?

I'm hearing loud explosions outside my window. I assume they are fireworks. Either that or WWIII has broken out. If that is the case, then can someone ship me my food storage from our storage unit. Please?

Did anyone notice?

I just happened to notice while out grocery shopping and stocking up on only the most fresh, organic and healthful foods my mom and pop grocery store has available, that Oreo has a new, updated logo on their packaging.

Well, I don't know about updated. Check out this bill board from 1955. Pretty similar to what just came out:

What do you suppose Nabisco is trying to say about their cookie? Why such a drastic change?This is the Oreo packaging that used to grace my cupboard space:

Perhaps the dairy farmers banded together and argued Nabisco could not exploit milk like that. Just assuming that milk's favorite cookie is an Oreo could be viewed (if you're a democrat, socialist, or just claim to be a victim of life most of the time) as some form of prejudice. Putting milk on the package without prior consent of the Dairy Farmer's Alliance could have rubbed someone important the wrong way and sent Nabisco's marketing crew running to come up with the most bland, un-controversial packaging possible. Hence, the simple, boring packaging. Typically that sort design appeals to me. Simple, clean lines, clutter and chaos-free. But I was getting used to the Oreo-splash-in-milk packaging. The new look is growing on me and I am sure it won't be long before have forgotten what the "original" packaging looked like.

Personally, there is no other way to eat an Oreo than for them to be dunked in milk, but let's not get sidetracked here.

This is an interesting web site that states the Oreo Cookie package, which contains 51 Oreos, retails at $5 in the United States. Where are these "independent scientists" grocery shopping!? (The web site also discovers how much cream filling is in an entire package in case you were of the cream stuffing persuasion.) FIVE BUCKS?! Not my Oreos. I'm begging for them to come down to $2.50 again. I caved and bought them for $2.79 today at Target. Err.... I mean I just happened to notice they were 2.79 at Target before I went grocery shopping at my little neighborhood store to stock up on fruits and legumes...

Tell me, tell me Nabisco, inc. why the change in packaging and the change in price??

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner

Here's a story about a mom with two children who was renting out a friend's basement apartment. We'll call the Mom Betty.

Once upon a time a housewife named Betty invited friends over for a play date. The friends came and the children were overjoyed to see each other. As little children often do, one needed to go potty. Betty was about to direct a child to her bathroom but noticed it was not flushing properly. So Betty showed the child upstairs to another bathroom and made a mental note to find a plunger and deal with the matter later.

Once the play date was over, Betty found a plunger. The plunger did not fix the problem. This puzzled Betty greatly as she herself possessed a wealth of experience in toilet plunging. Betty delegated the problem to her DH to solve with liquid plumber or something of the sort. Plenty of chemicals later, the toilet was still clogged and the family was using another bathroom upstairs.

Two days later, Betty noticed a foul smell in her living quarters. She checked the diaper of her potty training child, to find she was not the culprit. Her keen sense of smell finally led her to the utility room where water had begun puddling. It smelled. Betty was grateful she was not pregnant at that very moment because she would have puked at the stench otherwise.

Betty called her friend's plumber of choice (we'll call him Plumber Uno) and he came to the rescue a few days later.

What was the problem? A diaper.

Yes, a diaper had been flushed down the toilet which got caught in the ejector pump, which backed up the pipes, which caused water to begin puddling on the utility room floor.

Plumber Uno cleaned out the ejector pump and Betty was mortified.

A diaper!

Later that day Betty had lots of fun scrubbing the utility room floor with Clorox.

-------

2 weeks later....

Betty wakes up one morning to find her toilet is not flushing properly. Again. The plunger did not work, nor did products the DH had stocked up on last time there were toilet issues. Betty, dreading the outcome, opened the utility door to find water puddling on the floor. Again.

Betty calls her friend's plumber of choice, but he didn't answer. Anxious and antsy, Betty elects to use Service Magic to find a plumber.

90 seconds later, a plumber (which we'll call Plumber Dos) calls and says he can be there within the hour. Great! Betty is grateful for the fast service and drops her son off at preschool.

Plumber Dos arrives and checks things out. Betty is afraid he is going to find another diaper in the pipes. Betty decides if he finds a diaper in the pipes, she is going to submit a letter of resignation. After all, Betty thinks, a good mother wouldn't let this happen twice!

Plumber Dos' sleuthing skills discovers the ejector pump has broken down completely. The culprit? Flushable wipes. They aren't flushable, Plumber Dos explains.

Mortified, Betty calls her friend who owns the pipe (and the broken ejector pump) to ask if Plumber Dos can replace her ejector pump. Betty feels bad it is not Plumber Uno replacing it, but she was not expecting something like this.

Betty writes Plumber Dos a check for a great deal of money and wants to crawl under rock.

Betty can't crawl under a rock because she remembers she still needs to purchase a gift for her son's preschool teachers and her son was graduating in 19 minutes.

Betty goes to a spa to buy gift cards only for her debit card to be denied. Annoyed, Betty uses another card and rushes to her son's graduation, only to be swept away by more emotions. Betty cries. She's not sure if it's over the plumbing issues, her son growing up too fast, or both.

Betty speaks with her bank later that day to discuss the debit card problem.

"Betty," the bank lady kindly says, "your account is overdrawn."

In a panic, Betty rushes to her laptop to log into her account to view the transactions. Betty presumes the worst. Fraud, stolen identity, some crook from Papa New Guinea siphoning money out of her account.... According to Betty's calculations, there should have been 3 paychecks worth of money in her checking account.

Should have transferred the money to savings before Mr. Papa New Guinea got a hold of my identity, Betty grumbled to herself.

Betty looks online and notices a few things wrong.

1. DH withdrew a large sum of money a few days ago in the form of a cashier's check.

2. DH's payroll hadn't rolled in.... for 2 months.

Betty calls DH to explain himself.

DH had forgotten to mention a few things:

1. He needed to take out a large sum of money to pay the lawyer.

You remember, honey? DH asks. I told you I was going to do this last week, he reminds her. Betty remembers, but thought DH was paying for a different attorney. The attorney who is paid seven hundred dollars once every blue moon. No, it's a different attorney, DH explains.

2. The payroll thing was intentional (you know, they do that just for fun sometimes!)

Oh phooey on those minor, pesky little financial details.

Betty does not respond to these minor details very calmly to DH. Finally she swallows a fist full of chill pills and transfers her money from savings into checking and realizes it's not that big of a deal.

It just happened on the wrong day.

Betty finishes her day scrubbing the utility room floor with Clorox still feeling very rotten.

---

Fast forward 2 weeks later, and good fortune has found Betty. Though it found her in the smallest of forms, Betty rejoices.

Good fortune nugget #1: Betty rolled 4 Buncos at Bunco (Betty says don't ask. It's a girl thing) which won her this:

Good fortune nugget #2: Betty checked her favorite blog to discover this.

Did you catch it?

Suh-weet.

The before shot

This is what my hair looks like on a really, really, really good day. Pretty basic, pretty simple, and yet it is asking a great deal of me to get it like this. This happens about once every 2 weeks. The other 13 days I manage to make time for about 2 items in the following list:

1. shower
2. blow dry the hair
3. straighten the hair
4. style the bangs to wear them down
5. change my mind about the bangs and pin them back in clips
6. start make-up
7. change my mind again about the bangs
8. finish make-up
9. one last change-up with the bangs.

As a great deal of you women can appreciate, many stars have to align in order for this so-called "hair style," if that's what you can call this, to happen. Thank goodness for family pictures. Years from now I'll be able to look back at this shot and talk myself into believing it looked like this all the time.


* For 100% accuracy, add 1.5 inches in length and make 3/4 of an inch full of split ends and you have repilicated what my hair looks like this very moment.
**Rebecca, you are not a bad sister. I usually clip the bangs back so whose to know whether I have them or not?
** *Does anyone know where that black bow of Savannah's is? I couldn't find it this morning for church. I'm going mad looking for it.

It's that time again

Or rather, it was that time about 3 weeks ago, and now it's just horrendously overdue. I'm nervous. I'm panicky. I need Danielle. But Danielle is thousands of miles away.

I don't even know what I want. I need a trim, I want to keep my length, yet there is a part tugging at me to do something drastic.

--------------

#1: Catherine's bangs are lovely but I don't know if mine would be as cooperative. #2's hair reminds me of the 1950s. #3: I love the style but let's face it, would I ever stand in front of the mirror long enough to curl my locks? #4 is cool but a little too bang-y maybe? #5 would be drastic, but probably the most mom-friendly hairstyle out there...

------------------------

Should I try the hoity toity salon down the street like I did in Boise? Maybe I can get lucky twice.

I think this is my favorite. The rhinestone really gives the 'do a glamorous touch.

It's 11:30pm, Do you know where your husband is?

Growing up watching the nightly news I always got a chuckle at those "It's 10pm, do you know where your children are?" blurbs. It baffled me to think that some parents would actually need a reminder on the TV to prompt them to start thinking if they were aware of their childrens' whereabouts.

15+ years later I now think I would be a beneficiary of the public service announcement under two conditions: 1. it ran at noon, 2. I was a regular at watching tv at noon. Had I met these two conditions last week, I might have been able to avoid the embarrassing episode of my neighbor bringing Savannah back to my house after she quietly escaped.

It was very unfortunate of me to think my kids were playing quietly. I know better. My children never play quietly. They squeal. Whether it's an "I stole your blankie" squeal, or an "I hid your lego time machine" squeal, or "we're having fun tackling each other" squeal, there is always a squeal to be had in the house. I should have known for those 2.5 minutes when there were no squeals in the house, that also meant there were no children in the house.

For the record, I do know where two of my children are (and it's so easy for me to gush with love for them this time of day). My third, also being my DH, I am not certain. He's likely still inthe office, but I am not entirely sure as our last communication took place roughly 6 hours ago. Maybe it would be wise to head out to the car and retrieve my cell phone to make sure I haven't received a ransom call from his kidnappers requiring a wire transfer to Barbados. Hmmmm....but this bed is so comfy....and I'm getting sleepy....

Dinner is served

In an effort to keep me fed, Kyle stocked our freezer last night with frozen dinners. This is what I'm having tonight.
You are wishing you were invited to dine with me this evening, aren't you?

I swear, this is not a Runner's Weekly blog... (*Updated with pictures*)

...although considering that in my last nine posts, there is some mention of running in eight of them, and five of them are written solely about it. Kyle threatented to reclaim his blog and post a picture of a burger and remind our readers that there was more to our lives than my meager attempts to re-live the glory high school days, but the poor guy has been so busy he hasn't even had time to read this blog, let alone reclaim it.

So besides running a half-marathon and then spending the last 3 weeks blogging about it, what have we been up to?

Kyle's happenings can be summed up pretty easily: Working and telling mission stories. Six days a week he spends laboring for the business and the seventh he goes to church and shares his experiences about when he lived in the Phillippines as a missionary for the church. He was recently asked to help out in the mission prep class, and jumped at the chance to have the opportunity to speak of the fond days of yore. He has been past the point for quite a few years now when it's cool to share mission stories. Mission prep has provided Kyle with a nice exception to the socially unacceptable.

Here's what else has been happening...

It was proven despite vast physical dissimilarities, Cade and Savannah are indeed blood siblings. My ward (church congregation) and friends gathers annually and we all venture 11 miles through the country on bicycles to a most wonderful ice cream stop. We eat ice cream, take pictures to document the good times, and then head back 11 miles for a fantastic Memorial Day bar-b-que. As it is every summer, Kyle is working and can't join us for the bike riding fun. Last summer I had my bike (rather, a borrowed bike) hooked up to a Burley (trailer for the kids to sit in) and when I wasn't looking, a very kind man took pity on me and hooked the Burley to his bike and pulled my kids the entire 22 miles without breaking a sweat. I take that back. Savannah was infuriated I put a helmet on her head and would not stand for it. She screamed so long it was decided she could ride in the van following the bikes. So, he pulled both of them for about 3 miles, and then Cade for the remaining 18. I could not keep up with him! He was an Ox.

Unfortunately my ox-friend and his family decided to go out of town for Memorial Day this year and it was up to me to pull the kids. I was feeling bold and brave, and fortunately was in considerably better shape this year than last, so I took on the challenge. This year Savannah did not mind the helmet (perhaps it had something to do with Cade wearing his all the time. He received a Spiderman helmet for his birthday and wears it everywhere now, even in the car) and we were off. After about 2 miles, the excitment of being towed in a yellow capsule on wheels passing corn fields wore off, and the kids couldn't resist the uncontrollable urge to poke and scream and bicker. In addition, Cade continuously let me know he was particularly agitated that we were going way too slow because we were not in front, and were "getting passed by everybody." Perhaps one day he'll appreciate my efforts.

I kept chugging and a kindly young man in the ward stayed with me to make sure I was okay (or maybe to make sure I wouldn't unhook my fighting children and abandon them in the nearby corn fields). The bickering stopped about 200 yards from the ice cream store. We each ordered a delicious cup of ice cream, and Savvy also managed to score herself a free chocolate cake because she smashed it with her greedy little fingers when her negligent mother was doing something else besides preventing her from demolishing beautiful slices of cake lovingly placed on the counter for hungry cake addicts to purchase. Thank you Purple Store cashier for taking pity on me, but really, I would have been absolutely fine paying for the cake. Honestly. I have strong feelings about chocolate cake.

About 1/2 a mile into the ride back, my darlings went back to their bickering, but this time it was much more bearable because of the nasty headwind. It did wonders to drown out the sounds of sibling rivalry. I guess I can't blame Cade and Savvy as they had very little personal space, but I was expecting better behavior than what I got. Despite the screaming, kicking, poking and biting (yes, the biter was our precious Savannah) it was still a pleasant bike ride for me. At about mile 18 by some miracle I looked behind me to check on the kids (very hard to do, by the way, while driving a bike pulling a trailer when you lack coordination like I) to find Savannah unzipping the rain cover and climbing out of "her chariot" at that very moment. That girl! She had had enough. So, in the following van she went to sit on Shayla's lap and Cade and I enjoyed the last 3 miles in peace and quiet.

Part of me wondered if I should have let Savvy sit in the following van for the entire bike ride, but I was so set on us making the trip as a family. Maybe it was me paying homage to the pioneers, or perhaps I just had to prove to myself that I could pull them the entire way. Afterwards, I really wondered if I had done my two children a disservice by forcing them to sit by eachother with no more than a hair's width between them for so many miles.

My worries were disspelled when I asked Cade the next day what he though about the bike ride. "Oh it was so fun, Mom!" he squealed. His favorite part? The ice cream of course. He'd forgotten about everything else.

Remember DEAR Day? As my good friend has so wisely put it,

A book is never more enjoyed than when there is laundry waiting to be folded.

I've allowed laundry to pile up on many occasions, grocery shopping to be put off yet another day, and have re-lived my single favorite day in elementary school when we all were commanded to "Drop Everything And Read" for 30 minutes.

When in Utah for the event which shall now and heretoforward go unmentioned, I had a chance to peruse Deseret Book with my Dad and Sister. To aimlessly wander that store without children was such a delight. The bargain shelf housed some favorites I've wanted to add to my own library: The Adventures of Huck Finn , Tom Sawyer and Princess Academy. Huck Finn was intended to be read to Cade, and Princess Academy, of course to be read to Savvy. However, for some reason (probably the same reason Cade prefers the pink Hotwheels bike over the blue one), Cade found the "princess book" cover (and dare I say title) a lot more enticing. I agreed to set aside Huck for the time being and began reading the princess book to him.

I quickly fell in love and began sneaking my own personal reading sessions with it until I finished. I am harboring lots of guilt over it now though. But it is good for me to have read it so I can better paraphrase when some of the paragraphs are full of complicated words and Cade needs clarification...right? In my personal quiet hours I've also indulged in the Book Thief and the Shadow Children series, which are both juvenile fiction, and really, really fantastic. Who would have thought juvenile fiction could be so inveigling?

Cade graduated from Pre-School. It was a tender and quaint little gathering his teachers put together and was just perfect. Cade adores his teachers and I am sad that Savannah won't get to have them. Well, then again, never say never as far as our ever-changing lives are concerned. The way we roll around here it wouldn't be altogether surprising if Savvy found herself there in a year or two. Okay, at first that was kind of meant to be funny, but it's not really. As much as I love it here, I do hope we stay somewhere for more than a year.

I was touched how emotional Cade's teacher got when talking about the students. It is so wonderful knowing my son has so many great people in his life to help him grow and learn. I really regretted not wearing sunglasses to the affair. In my moment of realization that my precious firstborn was crossing yet another milestone, tears began to trickle down my cheeks.

Had I been wearing shades, it would have gone unnoticed. My lame "those darn allergies" indictments didn't really work and I was a nostalgic mess. Most or all of the other parents were seasoned Preschool graduation attendees and just smiled and were probably thrilled at the thought that now ALL of their children will be enrolled in school full-time.

Cade and his classmates, eagerly awaiting their diplomas. It surprised me Cade chose the front row. Didn't know he was the front-row type.

Lucky he was sitting up front, because he was the first student called up to receive his little diploma.

I love this grin he has as all the parents and teachers are clapping for their new graduates.

Cade with each of his teachers. Funny that he gave the same confused/pensive/disinterested look for both shots.

I went to my first Yoga class. Not what I expected. I guess I just had in my head that I'd lay down in a dark, dark room in a very comfortable position while soothing music aided the instructor in melting my worries away. Honestly, I was expecting a 45 minute quasi-nap. Instead I found myself stretching in odd positions with funny names and trying so very hard not to giggle at them. I'll have to give it another shot when I've matured a few more years I think.

We've welcomed summer. After a waterfight with the neighbor kids and a trip to our town's little ice cream joint, I now feel like summer has officially begun. Savannah has even broken her early rising habit and has now realized that sleep, especially in the morning, is a good thing. Unfortunately, Mother Nature is still deciding whether or not summer is here. Hopefully in a week or so the kids and I can become pool rats for the remainder of the summer!

She's really good at saving some for later...on her face.

Our neighbor friend Carter having fun with the hose.

Thanks, Carter.

Oh how we love this yard!

We've upgraded our hospitality status. The home we are renting is fabulous. It has incredible guest quarters (doesn't the word "quarters" sound so fancy?) so I was ecstatic to learn our friends Liz and Joel were stopping through on their move from Philly to Minneapolis. They did this last year, and let's just say, I was really thrilled to have a second chance at proving I knew something of southern hospitality. Or at least knew hospitality. Last year it resembled something along the lines of the warm, fuzzy New Jerseyian-type hospitality (Melody, you can appreciate this, can't you?). It was a bummer their movers were ahead of schedule (when does that ever happen, right!?) and they had to leave a night early, but so fun to see Liz and her little pregnant bump and catch up on the last several months.

I always feel so tall standing next to Liz. Especially when I am wearing heels and she flip-flops.

Flap Your Wings saved a life. There is a bird nest housed on the upper deck of our back porch. The kids and I have been watching it for days. I've been grumbling about all the bird poo on the deck and waiting to get pooped on myself. I have been tempted on many occasions to move the nest to another more desireable (for me) location, but reminded myself what a great teaching tool it is for the kids and how un-green, non-tree-hugging, and non-wildlife-friendly that would be. And should any green, tree-hugging wild-life lover find out what I did.....well, I'd just rather not experience the wrath.

Today while we were outside playing Cade called to me in his usual you've-gotta-come-now-I-just-discovered-a-spaceship type holler, "Mom! Mom! Come here, I have to show you something!" I was expecting the usual odd-shaped rock or piece of glass Cade had un-earthed, thinking it was lost treasure. When he guided me to the little bird struggling on the ground just below his nest, I was shocked. We all watched it for a few minutes pondering what to do. I then posed the question to Cade. His face became pensive and then a grin crossed his face."I know what we should do! It's like in that book we read, Mom. 'Member when the boy found the egg and he put it back in the nest? We need put it back in the nest! Yes, those are the right directions!" I then asked how we would do it. "Get a really, really tall stool," he declared.

We went to Barb's garage and Cade spotted a ladder. I put on my handy dandy dishwashing gloves (that for some reason I never wear whilst washing dishes) and picked up the poor little bird. I climbed the ladder and was shocked to find 4 other sleeping baby birds in the nest. No wonder the poor guy fell out. There wasn't any room for him! After some gentle rearranging I manage to tuck him back in his nest safely. I worried if we did the right thing because his mother didn't return all day, but after reading this, I guess we did. Thank you, P.D. Eastman for Flap Your Wings.

And there you have it. Enough updates to fill up six blogs worth and not a word about running. I hope this brings balance back into our blog.

Boston Bound!

I've always wanted to go to Boston and now I'll have a reason to go. . . Boston Marathon 2010! I'll be a happy spectator cheering on my sister. No pressure or anything, Mel.

In order to truly appreciate what she did to get me to Boston (speaking in future tense terms), here are some photos and footage of Melody recovering after the Ogden Marathon. They don't usually allow family in the Medic tent, (question, do medical professionals still subscribe to using the word medic, or did it die out with WWII? I wonder if I am behind the times here) but one of the nurses saw me peeking in and said, "Is that your sister over there? Go get your camera, she needs her picture taken. She's so cute!"

I agree.

Don't mess with her. She's sponsored.

Melody, drinking a Jamba and talking about her race.

In this clip she doesn't seem very excited about the prospect of running another marathon. Can't blame her.

And this is what was going on outside of the tent.

Jon patiently waiting and keeping the boys entertained. Amanda was so sweet brought the boys Jamba Juices.

I was quite struck the weekend I was home with my family and reminded many times that being a parent truly is a life-long responsibility. A HUGE thanks to my Mom and Dad who woke up at the crack of dawn and drove to my starting line, and relayed back and forth throughout the course to cheer us on.

And they thought they were done with spectator sports when Rebecca graduated from high school.

Melody receiving her award. She placed 10th overall and 2nd in her age group. Word.

I'm coming to Boston on two conditions, Mel:

1. You have to enjoy it

2. Run your last mile slow enough that I can keep up with you as I push my children in a stroller next to you.

I'd rather not watch you run so hard you spontaneously combust at the finish line.

A record for my posterity, and a virtual dramamine for the rest of you

Before too much time passes, I need to take a moment and document my Half Marathon. Otherwise, the details would be fuzzy and my poor posterity would be left with a boring, bare bones story. I am a pretty mediocre runner, but I'll still take a stab at making the event as riveting as possible without embellishing .... too much.

Saturday morning we were up by 4 and surprisingly, my sister Melody didn't have to physically drag me out of bed, which I was entirely expecting. When I opened the front door to check the weather conditions I was nervous. It was cold. Very cold, and I was far from dressed for the occasion. I thought I had made the effort to plan ahead. After all, I had checked out what the weather was supposed to be like in Ogden on race day. It was supposed to be sunny, in the high seventies to low eighties. Warm, right? Well, I forgot to take into account that I was running before the sun even came up. And, Melody added, that I was starting in the mountains.

The mountains?!

Of course Melody was all prepared with her arm warmers, gloves, pants, hat. She had really done her homework. Granted, she was starting further up the mountain than I was, but really the difference between our starting lines was this: mine being very cold, and hers freezing. I was grateful we had been provided a long sleeved shirt at the expo the day before so I added that to the few layers I came with.

Melody was antsy and anxious and kept me very aware of how much time I had left at the hotel. 14 minutes! 8 minutes! 3 minutes! She would call out. I was really proud of myself for getting in the car when she said it was time.

As we were driving down the empty street I gasped. "I forgot my i-pod!" Like my sister really needed this excitement to add to her already intense pre-race jitters. We turned around and I sheepishly ran back inside the hotel room feeling like a total moron. I grabbed my i-pod and flew back into my seat and tried again to drive to the buses, incident free. I parked the car and Melody and her girlfriend Rebecca who was riding with us took off like rockets. We were about a half mile away from where we needed to be. I started running, then remembered, AGAIN, that I had forgotten my i-pod. This time in the car. I ran back and grabbed it, and tried again to head for my bus.

Third time's the charm, right?

After a lovely scenic bus drive to the official starting line, I bee-lined it for the row of campfires. I needed to keep from turning blue before I ran. We each took our turns being a human rotisserie and rotated our bodies around the fire to try and find a comfortable balance between the freezing cold air and the burning hot flames.

On my way to the port-o-potty, who should I spot but Mother Dearest! She was holding a sign my little sister had made for me. So sweet. I could not believe my good fortune. Having my mom at the starting line meant I could wear my jacket right up until the race started, and then I could hand it to her. Thank goodness for Mom. She even loaned me her gloves until the race started. We soon met up with my Dad and they kept me company while I waited to get in line.

Here I am freezing my tush off with the cute sign my sister Rebecca made. Doesn't my mom look thrilled to be standing in the freezing cold at 6:30 in the morning?

And here I am shamelessly standing where I belong-- with the 10 minute mile pace group. Wahoo. Notice my i-pod Shuffle? Oh wait, it's so small you can't even SEE it.

As a little refresher these were my three goals:

1. NOT get passed by any marathoners. After all, they were starting 13.1 miles behind me and we were starting at the same time. Surely I was in decent enough shape that I could run 13 before someone could run 26, right? Let's hope so.

2. Feel great and have fun the entire race. (Which is code for not running hard enough for my body to feel any sort of discomfort. Which is really to say, I am a wimp, don't like pain, and prefer to run slow. Very, very slow.)

3. (this is a little strange) I wanted to see how much I could push my body without feeling the effects of it. Meaning, I wanted to see if I could run the entire race without wanting water, Gatorade or any of the other treats the wonderful race volunteers were handing out throughout the course. Now I realize had this been a full marathon, I would have been all about drinking water, walking through the water stations, taking the goo, oranges, etc. But since this was just 13, I just wanted to see if I could do it.

I anticipated I would be running around a 10 minute per mile pace. That put me finishing around 2 hours and 10 minutes. The gun went off and supposedly the race began. I was so far back from the actual starting line that it took a few moments before I could even start walking. Finally, we approached the starting line and I was off!

My dad took a shot of me just after the start. Proof that I am feeling good and having fun. And running so fast, I'm a blur!

At the first mile there was a hill. Fortunately Melody had explained to me ( I think she had the entire course committed to memory) that there was only one hill the entire race (for me) and it was down down down the rest of the way. So, I pretended I was Rocky and hauled up the hill, loving the feeling of passing people going up. That never happened to me in high school. I always got passed going up hills in cross country.

My tunes kept me happy and energized and after about 3 miles, I was ready to shed my long sleeved shirt. A lot of people were just tossing their warmer layers along the road, but this was my first official half marathon and it was a really nice running shirt. So, I decided to tie it around my waist. A good thing, because I needed to blow my nose a few miles later and didn't have any tissues handy.

Four miles into it, I was still feeling good, and hadn't stopped for or grabbed anything from the fantastic volunteers at each mile marker. I was chugging along feeling happy. In fact, here's a shot of me smiling. My knee began throbbing a little bit, probably from all the downhill pounding.

At mile seven I decided to grab a chocolate Goo, but I didn't open it or eat it. It was just nice to have it "just in case" I got hungry and that seemed to be enough to keep me going.

Mile after mile I kept waiting to hit some sort of wall. I had heard a lot of people saying that they felt great until mile 10 and then it was awful. The stars had aligned that day and the weather was perfect, I was feeling good, and fortunately didn't hit a wall.

Here's a shot of me right around the time I got Rick Roll'd. Melody was sneaky and uploaded Rick Astley's very annoying song on my play list. It was good to have a little chuckle at mile 11.5.

I was a little disoriented when I was at mile 12. I had just come off the river trail and noticed I was back in the city, in the heart of Ogden. I could see the Ogden temple just a few blocks away. I wondered how on earth I had gotten there. Oh yeah, I guess 12 miles down a mountain could put you back in the city, huh?

This is me coming down the home stretch. How appropriate for "Celebrate" to be blaring through my headphones at this point.

As I crossed the finish line I looked up at the clock which read: 2:00:45.

I was pleasantly surprised that I had done better than I expected to, by about 10 minutes. Then I started to get a little bummed, thinking that if I had remembered to wear my watch and had known how fast I was going, I totally could have broken 2 hours. I was also shocked how fast time seemed to go by during my race. I suppose that's the difference between training on a treadmill (gag me) and running outside with other people and listening to rockin' tunes.

I scoped outthe grassy area and took in all the free food and drinks that were being handed out. Great Harvest bread, Jamba Juice, and lots of Powerade. Yum. I felt like a celebrity. Then I heard someone calling out my name. It was Mom! She had seen me finish. Just like the old days, she was always there waiting for me at the finish.

Lucky for me, about 20 minutes after I finished, the first marathoner crossed the finish line, so I had accomplished all three of my goals: I felt great, didn't get passed by a marathoner, AND I managed to run 13.1 miles without stopping for water, food, or anything. Something good to know for future survival skills you know? You never know when you'll need to run 13.1 miles without stopping for water.

I called Kyle to report I had survived. Cade was anxious to hear if I had won. Not wanting to disappoint him I reassured him that, yes, Cade, I won my race. He was pleased. Please don't tell him otherwise.

Shortly after my race, Mom and I decided to stake out places to cheer for my sister (remember, she was running in the FULL marathon, hoping to qualify for Boston). Mom picked a spot in the final stretch, and I decided it might be kind of fun to run her last mile with her. So I jogged back a mile from the starting line and waited for her to emerge from the trees while cheering on the other runners.

Nine female marathoners later, I spotted my sister and was a little disappointed. I was hoping for at least another 10 minutes to rest. I was terrified I wouldn't be able to keep up with her. I know, after all she had already run 25 miles, so why wouldn't I be able to keep up with her? Because she is a machine. Her race pace is 7:30 per mile. I jumped in and starting running by her side. I was kind of expecting a little smile or "hi!" but she didn't even make eye contact with me. She had a girlfriend, Amanda on her other side who had met her 5 miles back so she and I kept up a conversation meanwhile Melody kept looking at her watch with a very pained expression on her face. She kept humming, but I was shocked and folks, for the first time in my life, I was actually physically running at a faster pace than my sister. It was a dear diary moment. In fact, here is proof that I am happy, ready to ramp up my speed, and she is tired, ready to be done:

With about a tenth of a mile to go, my sister called out, "Amanda, catch me" and she stumbled backwards. Amanda caught her and hoisted Melody's arm around her shoulders and encouraged her to keep going. I held on to her free hand and pulled. By some miracle, Melody found her mojo again and though she wanted to die, her feet kept stumbling forward toward the finish line. I could not believe the clock when we approached the finish line. My sister ran 26.2 miles in 3 hours, 14 minutes and 29 seconds. I was stunned. In order to qualify for Boston, she needed to finish it in 3 hours and 40 minutes. She destroyed that time.

The medics and nurses were waiting for her with a wheelchair and she immediately collapsed onto it and her eyes rolled back to her head. I was nervous and scared, but still taking in the moment of my sister's incredible time (which is probably why I am still smiling in shock here when I should have had a very worried look on my face).

Turns out she was overheated. Her body temperature had climbed to 105*. No, she was not dehydrated. She had just physically pushed her body so hard that it got that hot. 15 minutes later she was doing great. I have video footage of her recovery, so I'll have to post that when I find my camera.

Yes, she's nuts. We couldn't be more different about our race philosophies, and I am so very proud of her strong will, determinaton, and self-discipline. Also envious.

Here we are, thrilled the race is over and that she is healthy and standing on her own two feet.

Some other highlights/observations:

* Half-marathoners are more concerned about how they look than how they run. I saw a lot of cute matchy-matchy running outfits, skirts, hair accessories, and socks in my half-marathon crew. There were lots of girls who had straightened their long, blond hair for the race and left it down the entire 13 miles. Who does that? Thinking of Emily, my roommate in college, I tried to play the benefit of the doubt game and thought, "perhaps she is refraining from pulling her beautiful straight hair up in a ponytail for her race because as soon as she is done running, she has to go directly to a dog shelter to volunteer, after which she will immediately be heading over to a charity ball in which she wants to wear her hair down for and doesn't want a ponytail crease." It could be so, couldn't it? Can you think of any reasons why she wore her long hair down during a 13 mile run on a warm day?

* There were a number of funny signs along the way. My favorite: "Go Jessica! Run like there are 10,000 angry gnomes chasing after you!"

* There were some funny t-shirts, too. One in particular read on the back, "I suffer from rheumatoid arthritis and you're STILL behind me."

* A guy in a full fledged clown suit ran the marathon. He was just a few minutes in front of Melody. Wish I had gotten a picture.

Results:

When I woke up the next morning (feeling very, very sore) my sweet dad had printed out my results off the Internet and put them on the counter. I screamed when I saw the results of my actual time.

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My actual time: 1:59:00.40

Place (overall): 649th out of 1974

Place (gender): 314th out of 1295
Place (age group 25-29 year olds): 66th out of 205

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Post Race Musings:

Being average is a very comfortable place to be, at least insofar as running goes. I have a personal rule book that if I am going to continue with it, it has to be enjoyable from training until the race. Like most, running for me is about 92% mental. The happier and more un-stressed I am about the race, the further and faster I am able to run. But let's be honest, I wouldn't ever run that fast.

I would venture to say that a half-marathon is the perfect distance to run. It can be done with relatively low key training. I suppose because of that, I didn't feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment after the race. If it had been a full marathon, I would have been sobbing uncontrollably. I'd love to be able to strike marathon off the list of things I do before I die.

Perhaps Richmond in 2010?

Maybe, but let's not get too carried away now.