half-assed, half marathon

There are things in our lives that make us think "oh, crap, what did I just get myself into". This just happens to be one of those things...

I signed up for a half marathon.

eek

Having to just say the word marathon freaks me out a bit. OK, more that just a bit, but I'm just going to concentrate on the half part.

The logical side of me was like this:

"It says right here that walkers are welcomed, as long as I can finish in 4 hours... I can finish in 4 hours, umm, right?"

"And the site says the course is slopey (or something to me that reads 'not too hilly'). I like flat runs."

"I'll get a medal if I finish. I like medals too."

"I can put one of those 13.1 miles stickers on my minivan... no one will have to know that I walked the whole thing"

"I just dropped 80 bucks on this race, there is no way that I can back out. (That's the same price as a new microwave!)"

So, I'm doing a half marathon, more for the medal and the bumper sticker than anything, but still... I'm doing it. (I think)

And yes, should I reiterate what so many others say? "If I can do it, so can you!" Especially if you plan on finishing just under the 4 hour, closing it down, mark with me.

Not that I've done 'it' yet.

'It' being the half-assed, half marathon.

Hold me.

life cycle

This is my microwave, kicked to the curb, though not really a curb (and technically, not really kicked), but thrown into the screened in porch in a fit of anger, where I pray that it get frozen over and covered with at least 12" of snow very shortly. "Take that!"

You might be asking (or not care, but will scroll through anyways), but why?

Because the damn thing died on me after, maybe, 3 years... and that pisses me off for several reasons. Let me list them for you in numerical order, it will be fun:

1) I swear, my parents had their first microwave for like 20 years. It was bigger than my toddler, a dark, ugly, brown color, and it made a strange humming noise, but it lasted forever. Math people, 20 years is way more than 3. Heck, I'm not even sure it died on them or that my parents just got tired of looking at it.

2) There are only a few things that I need for my daily survival, Diet Coke and my microwave are two of them. Being that it quit working in the morning, I had to cancel all plans for that evening to go out and buy a new microwave, not to mention, I had to waste my time online, during nap time when I should be napping working, looking for the best deals on microwaves.

3) I bought (almost) the cheapest microwave out there because our kitchen is on (a not really ever happening) time schedule of being redone, where we get a fancy over-the-range microwave, so I don't really see a point in spending a significant amount of money.

4) I will have to throw this stinkin' broken microwave in the back of my minivan and drive to some suburb that might as well be in Nebraska and pay $30 to recycle it properly, when I just spent $60 on the new microwave... something doesn't add up to me on this. I need some smart person's ratio of time to cost calculation, but you get the point. I feel like I'm getting ripped off.

and finally

5) Just knowing that the new microwave is going to stop working in 2 to 3 years and that I get to repeat this lovely cycle again just stabs me right in the heart.

::

Would it sound oh, so old of me to say 'they don't make them like they use to.'?

I think I can feel my parents laughing at me right now.

eye of the beholder

She usually wakes up singing, something along the lines of 'hi', then she changes it an octave and says it again 'hi'. Maybe a little louder, it depends on her mood. She jumps up and down in her crib, holding onto the side railing, screeching the already well-worn springs. She's literally just jumping at the chance to start her morning.

But this morning, she woke up with snot smeared across her face, her hair standing up on end on the left hand side, her breath not at all that sweet baby smell we all dream about.

It was an actual temperature of negative 7 this morning, perhaps she knew.


Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?

My snotty beauty.

Me getting a good laugh every time I look at this photo on my phone, that's pretty beautiful too.

a bracelet, a branch

Wyatt made me a friendship bracelet in Sunday school. I thought about not wearing it as we walked back to the car, but then I just felt it: this need to wear this little reminder that I need to love him.

And I know I shouldn't need a reminder, but right now my head is filled with that... I love you, but I don't like you phrase.

So, I'm wearing this bracelet, I haven't taken it off since putting it on.

::

Wyatt has been struggling with everything and everyone. He complains:

Why do I have to put my pajamas in the laundry?

I never get to... you name it.

Why did you make my pants too tight?

Why did you buy me new shoes, these are too tight/too loosely/too velcory...?

Do I have to clean up this mess, why do I always have to clean up?

I hate (what the opposite of whatever you just said).

It's so hard, coming after Christmas, where he gets so much, has so much, only to hear the negative come out of his mouth.

It's not ever been my goal to be a friend to Wyatt, I don't think parents should be friends with their kids. My goal is to just be his mom, and just love him.

So, to me, this bracelet isn't really a friendship bracelet, it's an olive branch.

oh, snap

Have I shared this with you yet? (Probably not, because it's less than flattering... and I'm super vain. No, really, I'm not that vain.)


Our latest professional photograph (and I use the term professional loosely here).

I can pretty much count this is what we were thinking as the camera went *click*.

Me: "Chin out, chin up, but not up too much you can see in my nose. Please let me get one photograph were my double chin isn't the most obvious feature on my face."

Edy: "I'm just resting here. I'm about to fly my arms and arch my back again in 3...2...1."

Wyatt: "The picture lady put that jar of suckers on the floor. When she's not looking, I'm totally sneaking one into my pocket and playing dumb when Mom asks 'where I got it from?".

Henry: "La-la-la, look there's my shoe. La-la-la, there's a string on my shirt. La-la-la, I wonder what I can make with the string..."

My husband: "If you put that f'ing stuffed parrot on your head one more freakin' time, I'm going to go off on you. Just snap the f'ing picture."

And this one was actually the best of the bunch to pick from.

Adding family picture to the list of 2012 things to do,

again.

tooth math

This is Henry's tooth bed.

Stop judging me.

I actually thought I was pretty smart with the 'let's make a bed for your tooth instead of putting it under your pillow' thing. Yes, I know that they make cute little things called tooth pillows, with cute, tiny little pockets for your dear loved one's tooth to go into, but the first tooth falling out kind of caught me by surprise. So, I wasn't prepared. Plus, I kind of like not having to go hunting for a tooth hidden under a pillow while someone is sleeping. Plus, you know... I'm cheap.

Me + tooth bed = genius)

So, the tooth was placed in it's special bed last night awaiting the fairy's arrival.

This is the fairy's 7th visit.

The first visit was complete failure, involving me running into his room and throwing a dollar under his bed saying something about 'Are you sure you didn't see it? It must have fallen'.

And the last time the tooth fairy visited, I didn't have cash. I never have cash, I wish that the tooth fairy was suppose to leave something that I always have on hand, like string cheese. Yes, I'd be completely happy leaving a string cheese in place of the tooth.

That, or being able to tell Henry I'll put his tooth fairy payment on my Visa.

Sigh... a girl can dream.

So, I rummaged through the coins in my wallet (and in the coin thingy in the van) and managed to come up with 4 quarters. I quietly tip toed into his room and dropped the coins into his tooth bed.

Success.

I was smiling about this as I was get ready that morning. Only then I hear my husband pulling back into the garage from his leaving for work 5 minutes early.

'Forget something?' I whispered.

'Tooth fairy' he whispers back to me.

'I already did it!' I responded.

'How much?' he asks.

'A dollar.'

He silently scoffs at my 'dollar' and climbs up the stairs to Henry's room. He placed the money on the night stand and started to walk away, only Henry is awake and says 'the tooth fairy only gave me coins!'

Busted.

My husband says something about there being more money he didn't see.

A five dollar bill!

Apparently, our going rate for a tooth is 5 buck and 4 quarters.

Let's do the math on that:

6 bucks x 20 teeth x 3 kids = financial ruin

or another equation to look at...

(Husband + scoffing at my $1 a tooth = not so genius)

*

So, what's the going rate for a tooth at your house?