Confessions of a Non-Runner

So, I don't really run. But I feel like I should because everyone is doing it. Well, not everyone, but you know what I mean. Okay, let's start at the beginning.

In high school I was in shape. I played Volleyball. I could run sprints. I ran an 8 minute mile. I felt pretty good. And then I went to college and my physical activity went down a notch, but not too badly. Most importantly, my self-esteem about my athletic abilities did not budge an inch. I watched Fear Factor and thought, I could totally do that. (Unless it was a swimming challenge, because let's face it—I have always sucked at swimming.) But I considered myself to be able to do whatever I could do, back in the day. Crunches, no problem...just tell me when to stop. Flexed arm hang...what's the big deal? I could climb a rope to the top, and do squats without blinking.

But the old adage, If you don't use it, you lose it, is still true. Except, that I was NOT using it so much, that I didn't even have a chance to see that it was gone. Even after having five kids, I still figured that if I had to do something physical, I probably could. I mean, people are always running these 5ks. I could do that. Probably.

Add in the fact that Tyler now does the layout for a running magazine. I am constantly hearing all these articles about running. Some about super-moms who run. Others about where to run and how to run. I have been bombarded by running. I figured now was the time to prove that I've still got it.

So, the other evening, I told Tyler that I was going to run a mile in the morning. I don't think he laughed out loud, but he might have smirked for a very long time. I planned my route, and told him to time me. And perhaps, by now I was maybe coming to terms with the fact that I hadn't done this in a very long time, and that there was a slight chance that I would need to walk. A little.

I walked. A little lot. I came home totally winded and gasped as I came through the door. "I may be skinny, but I am NOT in shape." So not in shape, that on several mornings I have had asthma-like wheezing after coming back from my measly mile. I say several mornings, but I have only ran five times in two weeks. I am working my way up. I am coming to terms with the fact that I am not a runner, and definitely not even close to the person I was 15 years ago.

But, I can be strong again. I can bring my time down and maybe even add another mile in there. (In a month or two.) And perhaps, one of these days, I will run a 5k and really be able to, instead of saying that I could. Because right now, I couldn't.

So I ask those of you who actually run (instead of thinking they can), what is a good mile time? What should I be working for? That first day I ran/trudged a mile in 12:50. I was not impressed. Today, I did it in 10:48. I still have a ways to go, but what should I be gunning for? Do I hope to get back down to an 8 minute mile? Is that even reasonable at my age and laziness? A friend of mine was trying to finish a 5k in under half an hour, so I'm assuming I would have to get my mile time to under 10 minutes, right?

Anyway, it is very slow going at the moment, but make me accountable. I need to earn back a little respect for myself.

Literary Overload

It's not like I have a ton of time to read. But I try to make time, because it is one of my great loves. I have my book group and that keeps me honest, so to speak. I get one book read every month. I've been trying to add others in on the side, but it is slow going depending on how busy everything else keeps me. I keep several books on hold at the library and hope they come up when life isn't too hectic. Well, not so much this time around.

First I read a book called The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. Interesting little book with lots of literary wit, and just a tad too much swearing. It made several references to Martin Chuzzlewit, a book by Charles Dickens. (Supposedly his last and favorite, but it never became very popular.) So, I thought I would pick it up at the library. Yikes, it was a fatty book. Please note exhibit A.

Next, I have been promising my Dad that I would read this book called The Great Gathering by Chad Daybell. Well, it is a skinny guy (exhibit B), so I thought I could read both at once. And actually it is nice to read something modern after reading a few chapters of flowery Dickens. But unfortunately, a book came up on my queue at the library. The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton. These are all books that have been recommended to me, so I don't know much about them. I was dismayed to see it was another large book. (Exhibit C.) Then shockingly, another book came up. A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. Sheesh, but that is not enough, it was another chunky-monkey book as witnessed by exhibit D.

Let's just say that I will not be finishing all these books this month. Some will be returned to the library and put back on hold, and I will hope they come up separately when I have some extra time to read. Wait, extra time...what is that?

Do I dare ask for recommendations of books you have enjoyed recently? Sure, why not? I am always looking for a good book to read.

Sunday Slew (Of Pictures)

I take lots of pictures (this is not news to anyone) and many are not worth seeing.  But others make me laugh and I want them on the blog because then I can look at them and laugh again some day. I need these pictures to spark my memory, and if you are doubting how bad it is...Tyler and I watched a movie the other evening and decided when it was finished that we had probably seen it before. (But it took us the entire movie. And it really wasn't worth watching in the first place.)

So let's get to some pictures. First up, we have chore day, in which we are slowly teaching our children to do everything we don't want to do in a couple years. Like mowing the lawn.

Truth be told, I don't mow the lawn anyway (allergy card), but it is character building, so I am glad she is trying. That machine is bigger than she, so I have to give her props for tackling the job. Not to leave Robyn out, we let her wrangle the steam-mop. (The lawn mower's lighter, hotter, less dismembering cousin.)

Ivory was not really doing chores that day. I think she gave me a shocked look and said something like, "What? Surgery girl doesn't do chores."

Of course, this is all coming back to bite her as she is finding out that a diet of popsicles is not much to write home about. She saw brownies on the counter the other day and whispered in my ear. "Mom, brownies are soft." Sorry little pumpkin, not soft enough. I feel really badly for her, but she only has ten days to go. She can do it. And I foolishly told her that for a week after she feels better, I will make her whatever treats she wants. (One a day.) But I tend to finish off the leftovers, so this can only hurt my spare tire.

Daisy is not so great at chores, but she is good at doing the odd job, like cleaning off a beater. Yum...cheesecake.

And to keep this real, let me show you what Pearl has been up to.

Yes, she is not always the angelic child she pretends to be. She is pretty darn cute given the right moment, as she will give kisses, wave goodbye, make doggy noises, blink her eyes at you, give great hugs while she pats your back, and respond to many instructions. BUT, she also throws tantrums with the best three year olds, and is developing a very stubborn streak. Some days I want to sell her on Ebay, but I would probably miss her after a week or so. (Just kidding, I obviously love the stuffing out of her, just not at dinner time when she hangs on to my legs and wails. Haven't all my kids done that though?)

And if you take her outside, she is very content.

Kind of ironic since I am not really an outdoor girl myself. So, I compromise by letting her play in the garage and having her sisters watch her off and on. Daisy is three. That is old enough to babysit, right?

Okay, so I probably won't get 'Mom of the Year' for the ninth year in a row. Big surprise.

Time

Photo of the week:

I pulled out some blog books the other day to show someone and I randomly chose 2009. That was only two years ago, but it was amazing to see the differences. Daisy was just a baby. Actually, they all seemed like babies. Every year puts so much change and personality into each of these kids. It almost hurts physically to look back and realize what is gone. At the same time, there is so much to look forward to.

So I took a picture in Time today. Each girl is holding up her age. This moment won't last long. In fact, June will turn nine next month, but for a moment in time, they are these ages. The best part, it that for all time, they are mine.


*Pearl was already in bed, and I am not sure if I could have gotten her to hold up one finger for long.

Surgery Girl

Yesterday was the big day. It was time for Ivory to get her tonsils out in hopes that she now, won't snore like a grown man, but more importantly, breathe without hindrance. Ivory was pretty excited getting ready for the big day. We have heard about her sugery daily for months now, but it has been particularly comical these last few days.

Me: Who's going to say the prayer?
Ivory: Me, because I'm surgery girl.

Me: Did every one get a cookie?
Ivory: Yes, but I should get two because I am surgery girl.

Ivory: I should get to choose the movie, because I'm surgery girl.

(You get the idea.)

She is still trying to use the surgery girl card, but it is not working as well since she is clearly restricted from some things.

I was so proud of her. She was never worried, or hysterical. She never cried, unless you count when a book-shelf smooshed her fingers in the office. I filled out paperwork when we got there and Ivory read.

Shortly, we were called back and she pretended she was scared. (She wasn't).

And one new shirt and a new blanket made her forget all her nervousness. (Notice she had already brought her mandatory blankets, Crabby and Soft.) Here she is sitting with Dad. She has a hard time being serious.

I wonder where she gets that?

We had to wait a long time back there. Over an hour. But we made do. We piled blankets on Ivory.

We watched Tangled.

We compared matching bracelets.

The anesthetist and a nurse came back to talk to us. The doctor finally arrived and then it was time for her to go. I wish I had gotten a picture of her as they wheeled her out in a wagon. (They do try to make it fun for the kids, as fun as surgery can be.)

Her tonsils came out before she did. These little big guys will probably not be missed much.

And then she was back with us again. She was pretty groggy.

And she still had her IV in.

But she was a trooper and started to eat and drink right away.

Three popsicles, two apple juices, a water, several hours of Loony Toons and an IV fluid bag later, she was good to go.

We are trying to manage her pain right now and some times are worse than others. She had a really rough night, but I was planning as much. I slept in her room with her and tried to comfort her with ice chips, tylenol, and popsicles. Hopefully these two weeks will go quickly. But at least surgery girl made it.

Her sisters were all very excited to have her back. I especially liked the chalk drawing that June made for her return. It is her soft blanket and above it says, Lead me, Guide me, Sleep Beside me.

There is no doubt you are loved Ivory. Good job, and heal quickly.

You Never Know When it Might Be Your Time

My husband thinks I get a little hysterical sometimes. I think it is justified in certain situations. You read on and tell me who you agree with.

This morning was pretty low key. We got up early and I cut Tyler's hair. He wanted me to do it last night, but after chasing our kids around the library and becoming very hot and sweaty, we opted for showers instead. (I should mention that we were chasing them around a courtyard playing a game of tag, not through the aisles of books—although I have done that before as well.) Hair cut, I cleaned up all the remnant hair on the floor. After sweeping, I looked down and saw a chunk of hair I had missed. Hmm, how did I miss that? I thought. Examining the hair closer, it was not hair at all, but a large-ish spider. Eww. I kept my cool, and grabbed a cup and gently placed it over the spider planning on having Tyler deal with it later. I have different methods of dealing with spiders. I will take them outside sometimes, and I will squish them if I have to. (Meaning they have gotten too close to my children or they look really ugly.) But my favorite method by far, is the one where I let someone else deal with my problem, i.e. Tyler.

I had scripture study with the children while Tyler showered. Tyler came down and breakfast started. I sat and took out multiple braids. It took over an hour to put them in.

And actually quite a while to take them out. And she kept finding more that we had missed. But what do you expect with 32 braids. Her hair looked so fun afterwards. It was very Jane and the Dragon.

I guess she would be more June and the Dragon. :)

Anyway, so I am unbraiding hair. Then I ask Tyler if I am good to go upstairs and shower since I didn't wash my hair the night before. "Yep" he says, and I take off towards the stairs. Just about as I reach them, he says, "What's on your back?"

I don't know? I take two steps to look in the mirror. I tilt my head over my shoulder and there is the large-ish spider crawling UP. MY. BACK. I may have lost my composure, but as I told the children later, it had almost reached my skin/hair and since it was on my back, I had no control over getting to it. So I basically screamed like a little girl for Tyler to get it off me. I still shudder thinking about it.

Some may wonder how the spider got out from under the cup. I myself was wondering this. When Tyler came back down, he moved the dining table back to its original position since we move it to cut hair. He must have jostled the cup without realizing it, releasing the spider. And then I had stood still long enough in one spot (unbraiding) for the spider to crawl up my body. See, why this gives me the heeby-jeebies? I think it was after revenge. I guess we will never know, since if a spider touches my body, it automatically earns the death sentence. (Sorry dad, that's just the way it has to be.)

Then Tyler was nice enough to tease me about it until he left for work. You know, like playing 'I Will Survive' on YouTube and then leaving a picture of a spider on my computer screen so I would jump later when I sat down. Mean, I tell you. He claims to want to spend eternity with me, but is deliberately cutting down my mortal existence.

I hope your morning was more spider-free than mine. And I recommend that if you put a spider under a cup, it is a heavy glass one, or you weight it with a brick.

Ward Campout, A.k.a. Toad Fest 2011

We now bring you back to our regularly scheduled programming. Man, it feels good to have Martin's Cove off the to-do list. I may be slow sometimes, but at least I get things done. Boo-yah.

This weekend we went to our ward campout. I actually missed an hour or so of it, because I went back to retrieve the forgotten bassinet. (Which was a good choice, Pearl would have been lost without boundaries for sleeping.) While I was gone, stuff was happening. Like:

Pearl cuddling with Stephen

Pearl doesn't cuddle with just anyone, so those who receive her affections should feel special. (I know I always do.)

Snowcones and Facepainting

The Toad*

It looks like the toad was found and at first people were hesitant to touch it. Here they are watching and he is jumping away.

And then poking at him, because that is what kids do.

But by the time I arrived, he was in hand and didn't leave hands until he pooped. Then they dropped him til' he was done and picked him up again. He was the hit for sure. I guess June found him, because she named him Jumper and graciously let other children hold him. (Although I heard many complaints that she did not let people hold him long enough.) She looked like a little gang leader, traipsing around with a pack of kids following her. (Like little ducklings.) I wish I had gotten a picture, because it was hilarious. Nothing draws children like wildlife you can hold.

She really wanted everyone to touch it. Some of the moms were not so cooperative, but Pearl didn't know any better.

June was sad when we finally made her put the toad down. (Actually, he might have been a large frog, I don't really know the distinguishing features.) We had a camp devotional and s'mores. Then right before bed, when most of the kids were tucked in, a be's'mored ecstatic face pushed through the tent. "Look, I got another one, and it squeaks!"

Sure enough, this second toad, rightfully named 'Squeaky' did in fact make a little chirrup. (He sounded like a soft squeaky toy.) She was so thrilled. Tyler told her to put him back, but she only came back carrying two. "They both squeak!!" She named the last one 'Squish' because that is how his insides feel. (Her words, not mine.) She was so sad to put them back and she asked me multiple times, once she was in her sleeping bag, if we could keep one.

Also a hit of the campout was Moxy. We didn't want to leave her at home, so she came with. She is such a good little dog that stays close and is very patient with the kids. I think people probably get annoyed that she isn't on a leash most of the time, but I find that just makes it easier for the kids to choke her. (Or keep her captive.)

All in all, it was a good time. Pearl seemed to be a good sleeper, but in the morning, she wasn't interested in doing anything. No breakfast, no walking around. She wanted to be held, or she wanted to snuggle with her bear. She stills sucks on one finger when she is tired or going to sleep, and always while holding onto her bear's arm.

I think it is important for us to make it to these ward campouts, because I am not the outdoorsy type and the girls need some exposure to camping before heading to Girl's Camp. Maybe I need to pack the girls up and send them off for a camping weekend with Tyler...




*No toads were harmed in the posting of this blog.