This Is How We Party

We went to Kerr's last night for cake and pizza -- celebrating Greg's birthday.
You can see that the cake and ice cream was a great (MESSY) hit...especially with Kenzie and Nolan.
What started as a "let's-wash-your-face-and-hands-in-the-hose,-yes-you-can-have-a-drink," quickly turned into "Water Limbo" and the first water fight of the season.
Given that it was only 70+ degrees and dark, the water was a bit chilly. (Or so I gathered from the screaming children. I didn't actually get close enough to test it out.) But, that didn't stop the kids (and grandpa) from having a blast.
Kenzie's opinion of water limbo quickly turned negative when, rather than going UNDER the hose, she stood up INTO the stream of water.

Is It Nap Time Yet?

Apparently, Kenzie has been starving...ALL day.

She brought me a Gogurt right after breakfast and asked if she could have it. I said no.

Then, I made the mistake of thinking I could answer the phone. Silly me.
The lady I was talking too heard the panic in my voice as Kenzie brought an egg into the office. She had "egg slime" dripping from her sleeve and down her chin and I knew trouble was lurking back in the kitchen. How right I was...three eggs broken all over the floor. To Kenzie's credit, however, there was a kitchen towel in the middle of the mess...she tried to clean it up.

I wrapped up my phone call a few minutes later and went back to the kitchen to make lunch. This is a picture of what I found. This time, Kenzie was trying to open a "Danimals" yogurt drink. I caught her just in time.

I promptly buckled her into her highchair, stepping cautiously over the smashed cake crumbs and frosting stuck to the rug...that was her rebellion last night -- with Greg's birthday cake -- just as we walked out the door for Cannon's soccer game.

Finally, we ate lunch. Surprisingly, she didn't really eat very much.

But, she did manage to grab a tomato and pickle from MY sandwhich...and throw it on the floor.

No wonder I'm not accomplishing anything today.

Nap time, anyone?

**UPDATE** - naps are now over...and I just swept the floor for the third time today. Kenzie's snack was popcorn...and she managed to cover a good portion of the floor and counter with that. Seriously, how hard is it to hit your mouth?

Last Year...About This Time

I had one goal in mind when I went to the gym this morning: Run 5-6 miles in 50-60 minutes.
I only had a limited amount of time to workout, and I knew I had to run at least 5 miles in order to be on track for my 20-25 mile minimum this week.
For some, my goal would have been easily achievable. But for me, it was a challenge. Attainable, yes, but a challenge all the same.
I am not a runner.

I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a neighbor, a sister and a volunteer. I am many things, but, I am not a runner.
I am not fast and I certainly can’t run forever. In fact, running makes me really tired! The only thing I have going for me is that I try to exercise consistently. My routine is this: I run consistently, and then I consistently eat too much junk!
An athlete in high school, I enjoyed the physical competition of the game and I was driven to succeed. But high school was a long time ago and I don’t think of myself as overly competitive with others now. I just have high expectations for myself...expectations which span all of the many roles I attempt to fill.

I looked around and saw that the #12 treadmill was available. (Incidentally, this has become my treadmill of choice because 12 is Greg’s favorite number. It reminds me of him and inspires me to work harder.)
The guy next to me looked to be running at a decent clip, so I hopped on. I figured that I could easily match, if not exceed, his pace.
Granted, I knew nothing about this guy. He was a complete stranger to me. With a towel over his instrument panel, I had no idea whether he’d been running for 30 seconds or 30 minutes. I didn’t know his incline or his speed. The only thing I figured out (rather quickly) was that if I tried to maintain his pace for my 50-60 minutes at my incline – I would likely pass out!
You know that “mind over matter,” thing? It doesn’t work. I tried to will my shoelaces to come untied, but a single knot has never held so well!

All my life I’ve been taught to “Stand a little taller,” “Be a little better,” “Set Goals,” “Work hard and never give up,” “Discipline yourself,” “Don’t settle.”
But at the same time, I’ve also been taught, “To everything there is a season,” (Ecclesiastes 3:1) and I’ve read many times that, “it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.”
How to reconcile these teachings? How to strike a balance between working hard and not pushing so much that we get totally overwhelmed?

At 18:27 into my workout, the guy on the #11 treadmill slowed down. I determined to maintain my pace ‘till he quit. After all, people don’t cool down forever.
Thankfully, he stopped and got off.

Whew! I could ease up a bit.
Or so I thought.

Just as I was about to lower my incline and speed, out of the corner of my eye, I perceived a guy watching me. He was two treadmills down, and the unspoken protocol of the gym is that you don’t interrupt someone’s workout, nor do you stare at them.
So, although I didn’t look, I concluded that it was Doug, a friend from church.
“Oh great,” I thought – so much for easing up!
A military guy, I was certain that Doug had to maintain a certain level of fitness. I was also quite certain that he’d never given birth to four children; but that was simply an excuse. I had to keep going.
As if that wasn’t enough, “Tattoo Man” got on the first row of treadmills, right in front of me. A “gym rat,” I’ve watched him work out many times. Although he doesn’t run endlessly, he puts the machine on the highest incline and does a full out sprint for several minutes. Despite the tattoos, and the short duration, it’s an impressive workout nonetheless.
And then, my MP3 player started blasting:

Been running so long, I’ve nearly lost all track of time.
In every direction, I couldn’t see the warning signs.
I must be losing it, ‘cause my mind plays tricks on me.
It looks so easy, but you know, looks sometimes deceive.

Been running so fast, right from the starting line.
No more connections, I don’t need any more advice…

Head over heels, why should I go?
Can’t stop myself, out of control.
Head over heels, no time to think.
It’s like the whole world's out of sync.

Been running so hard, what I need is to unwind.
The voice of reason, is one I left so far behind.

Finally, a distraction, one whose message did not go unnoticed:
Stop comparing myself to and competing with everyone else.

I ventured a quick glance over my shoulder. My “friend” was winding down. And yes, as you probably guessed: It wasn’t Doug at all…just another total stranger working out on a Tuesday morning.
Tattoo Man had finished his sprint as well.

I decreased my incline. After all, my dead body sprawled on the gym floor wasn’t going to inspire anyone’s workout.

I quit thinking of everyone else and settled in to “me.”

Not-so-amazingly, I achieved my goal: 6 miles, 57:17.

In fact, I exceeded it.

Too bad I'll likely have a headache today as a result.

"Bootiful Wips" Part II

Not to be outdone by her little sister, our very own resident diva decided to help herself to makeup while I was on the phone. At least she only got to the lips.

"Just a Widdle Bit"

I should own stock in Vaseline. 

Kenzie, like all my girls, loves to have "bootiful wips." 

Because I can't go anywhere without chapstick, she knows that all she has to do is reach into my pocket and she'll find her treasure.

Of course, we always have the same conversation:

Kenzie: "Widdle bit?"

Me: "Yes, just a little bit."

You'll notice from the globs hanging from her lips how she defines, "widdle bit."

I've started buying 3-4 tubes at a time.

A Strange Thing To Covet

I know. We aren't supposed to covet. Anything. "Thou shalt not covet" is one of the 10 Commandments. 

We are taught, "Thou shalt not covet the neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's."

Apparently (once again) I have some repenting to do...because although not specifically spelled out, it's assumed that "thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's grass." And that, is what I find myself doing these days...walking up and down the street admiring all the dark green blades of grass. Odd, I know.

We used to have a beautiful, lush green lawn - as noted in the above picture. And then, we made a decision which will likely haunt us for a very, very long time. 

We rented our house to professional criminals. 

Of course, had we known they were professional criminals, we never would have rented to them. But hindsight is 20/20...

I deem them professional criminals...because they have lawsuits pending in nearly every city around this fine state. I haven't ventured to researching other areas...but that wouldn't surprise me either.

But, I digress. I won't get started on how I feel about these people and the way they conduct themselves. I'll spare you the choice adjectives that come to my mind when thinking of them.

I'll simply continue focusing on the fact that, among the thousands and thousands of dollars in damages, rent/fees owed, they completely let our yard die. Interestingly, one of his many cons was to claim to be a professional landscaping company. As it turns out (according to court records), he claims to operate two different landscaping companies. I just wish he would have done something with our yard in the 7 months he occupied the property.

Alas, live and learn. And boy...have we learned this past  year. We're slowly trying to recover and restore our yard in the process. Perhaps someday, with enough water, fertilizer and good old fashioned hard work, we'll get that lush green lawn back again...and be better because of this experience.

Can Spiders Hear?

I have a huge fear of spiders. Some might even call it a phobia. Irrational? Maybe..but very real nonetheless.

I've always feared the arachnid, whether it be large or small, hairy or not, harmless or poisonous, jumping or otherwise. In fact, Arachniphobia was probably the scariest movie I have ever seen. Seriously, who watches that at a drive-in, in an open truck bed, in the desert of Las Vegas?

Spiders terrify me. In my defense, however, I have had some run-ins with some pretty scary looking creatures. And, I have inhabited homes with a variety of "tenants." (Bees, both honeybee and bumblebee, rats, mice, and alas, the spider). What can I say? We're motivated by cheap rent.

It's hard to say exactly when I fell in love with Greg. Was it the free Godfather's Pizza's he would deliver to my roommates and me in college? Or was it the day he came running to our rescue when we discovered a VERY large "8-legged-guest" looming in the back bedroom? Talk about a Knight In A Polo Shirt. Sure, happily married all these years later, he'll still kill the occasional creature for me if he has too...but arguably, he seems to have lost that spring in his step. Oh...the days of courting....

When we were first married, we lived in a tiny, run down little house. (I would call it decrepit if I was sure of the spelling.) I suppose the expectations can't be too high when rent is only $240 per month, right? Still, to share my bedroom with creatures? That's asking a lot. And so, we asked Greg's brother to share his "bedroom" instead. 

Let me explain:

Aaron spent a summer with us when he was about 14. Our little house only had one bedroom, which just barely fit our queen-sized bed. The bathroom was crooked and if you weren't fully awake during the night, it was entirely possible to fall off the leaning toilet during those 3am visits. This has nothing to do with the story, but I'm trying to help you visualize that we weren't living in the Marriott.

Aaron's "bedroom" was actually our daybed which acted as the couch in our front room. The house was old and had many marks on the walls. But, I was SO good at spotting which spots were out of place...meaning...I could walk through a room and out of the corner of my eye, spot a spider on the wall. Size did not matter. RAID was always by my side. I had access to a can in each of the 4 total rooms that made up the house.

One unfortunate night, I spotted a rather large spider on the curtains just above Aaron's bed. I think someone tried to kill it...but it fell and we didn't know whether or not the assassination attempt had been successful. So...I did what any rational person with an insane fear of spiders would do....

I fumigated his bed....and everything within a 30 foot radius. (That pretty much covered the entire property.) I stopped short of spraying RAID on the food and in the fridge but that was about it. After all, there is NOTHING worse that not-knowing if it's dead or alive. Seriously...how do you sleep if you haven't seen the guts confirming the death? Let me tell you....YOU DON'T. 

After all that RAID, we probably should have checked into the Marriott that night.

We no longer live in a crappy old house. In fact, we are very fortunate to live in a beautiful new home, complete with a mostly-finished basement. So, imagine my dismay, when I headed downstairs to vacuum the other day, only to round the corner and see a BIG, BLACK, SPIDER sitting right smack in the middle of the floor. This is the same floor where my children lay their blankets. The same floor where they build with blocks. The same floor where I lay when I do Ab-Ripper X. EWWWW.....

Of course, Greg was out of town. He's always unavailable (aka working) when disaster strikes. (September 11th, the Black Out, The Dog Collar Stuck on Addysen's Neck, Cannon's Head Stuck In the Bunkbeds). I knew I had to do something...but I was terrified. The only thought that motivated me to act was that if I left the room and the spider disappeared, I'd never be able to fully enjoy my basement again.

And so, I became increasingly grateful for my Dyson Animal...and the 15 foot extension hose attached to it. I ever-so-carefully plugged it in, opened the extension and slid it close to the spider -- still managing to keep my distance. Then, in one fell-swoop, I hit the power button and attacked. Whoosh! It disappeared.

Just for safe measure however, I kept the vacuum running for the next 5 minutes while I cleaned up the toys. It was only then that I realized I had been sneaking around. I had been holding my breath pondering the thought, "Can this thing hear me as I get into position?" 

What was I really thinking? Did I think it had the strength to miraculously climb back out of the vacuum? Was it going to hear me and run off? Was it going to turn and attack if I didn't make the first move?

One can only wonder. 

And, when the trauma of the moment is over, I'll admit, these thoughts seem a bit ridiculous. But, in the midst of the experience...who can blame the human mind for its crazy thoughts?

You can be sure, however, that upon Greg's arrival home, I insisted that we (translate to HE) do something about the problem. And so, he bought three large containers of bug killer at Home Depot yesterday. I think it's more powerful than RAID. 

For obvious reasons, there will be no picture attached to this rambling.