A Berry Merry Christmas

Christmas was quite enjoyable here on our wintry farm.  On Christmas Eve everyone opened their Christmas jammies and the boys opened up their new DVD (“Up”) and we all promptly got into said jammies and watched our new movie together while feasting on Christmas baking.  It was a wonderful evening and will I think be a new tradition for us on Christmas Eve.

Christmas morning was lovely as well.  I baked fresh cinnamon buns and made cream cheese icing, sipped coffee, gained weight, opened presents, built the new Lego, played Chutes & Ladders (repeatedly), and then went over to my sister-in-law’s for supper where she had prepared an obscene amount of food.  OBSCENE.  As in, I should have kept at least one pair of maternity pants for this occasion.  We had a great family time and the boys loved their gifts from Granny and Grandpa – a big Lego set for Berry Boy and a new dirt bike helmet for Berry Baby.

Speaking of maternity pants, my pants are feeling…snug.  I’m kinda wishing that I were pregnant just so that I would have a reason for the apparent weight gain.  I say “apparent” because I’m terrified to step on the scale at the moment, so I have no real idea how disastrous the situation may be.  My foot is all achy from a touch of plantar fasciitis, so I’ve been off the running for the last few days and that certainly isn’t helping issues.

On a more positive note, I’m getting psyched for the racing season.  I had coffee with one of my running friends today, and we got each other all motivated for the spring running season.  I think between her and Suzy, I may just get my mojo back.  I was discouraged with the last two races that I ran, even though I PR’d in both.  For some reason, even though I beat previous bests in both the half marathon and the Elkridge 10k, I still felt that I didn’t run either race well.  Seems like I felt a lot better about previous efforts that sported slower times – I kinda felt this year that I gave up in both races, and so even though I may have ended up with faster times I felt that the performance itself was disappointing.

Anyway, my plan for the new year is to run the Brainsport Brainfreeze in March (half marathon) with the intention of simply running it well, with no specific time goal in mind.   Since it’s in March it will most likely be cold and still snowy, so shooting for a PR here will probably just be disappointing anyway.

Then, I will train more specifically and run the Saskatchewan Half Marathon at the end of May with a time goal of 2hrs.  I think this is doable, and I’m hoping to have the confidence of the Brainfreeze run to spur me on.

After that, I’m sure there will be a smattering of 5ks and 10ks through the summer, but mostly I'm looking forward to just running outside, with friends and on my own, and just enjoying the run like I did this past summer.  And then I’ll eventually gear up for the Elkridge 10k in Fall.

I’m looking forward to New Years Eve and spending the evening with good friends, and then I’m really looking forward to sending Berry Boy back to school and finding my routine groove again.  And not having any more shortbread cookies in the house.  Or caramel corn.  Or white chocolate pretzel treat.  Or Toblerone.  Someone help me.

Memos

To the big fat jerk at the red light behind me:

I’m *so* sorry that I didn’t start driving at the exact nanosecond that the light turned green.  It was rude of me, and you were so right to honk.

 

To the lady in the Toys ‘R’ Us store:

It’s ok that you were taking up the entire aisle with your shopping cart.  I didn’t mind standing there for 5minutes with a tired toddler who was trying to leap out of the shopping cart and was constantly yelling “TOYS! TOYS!” while you tried to make up your mind.  I understand – it’s hard to be considerate of others when you’re self centered.

 

To the Barista at the North end Starbucks who made me my quad grande americano misto:

THANK YOU.  and, I love you man.

 

To the idiot who almost t-boned me in the parking lot:

That big red octagonal thing that was facing you?  That’s a STOP SIGN.  It means you should STOP.  FYI.

 

To the Barista at the 8th St. Starbucks who made me my triple grande half sweet extra hot caramel macchiato:

I love you too man.  Even though you were out of Cranberry Bliss bars.

Over The Top, and other stuff

Thanks Prairiechick for this lovely award.  And Suzy.  And Tracey.  Apparently, the rules for accepting this award are to copy and change the answers below to suit you and pass it on. Answers can only be one word!  This is difficult for me – I like answering these things but I need more than on word.  I’m wordy.  What can I say.

1. Where is your cell phone? pocket
2. Your hair? cute
3. Your mother? stressed
4. Your father? stressful
5. Your favorite food? pizza
6. Your dream last night? gone
7. Your favorite drink? triplegrandehalfsweetextrahotcaramelmacchiato  :)
8. Your dream/goal? peacefulness
9. What room are you in? livingroom
10. Your hobby? running
11. Your fear? ThePuke
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. Something you aren’t? easygoing
15. Muffins? Pumpkin
16. Wish list item? Garmin
17. Where did you grow up? DawsonCreek
18. Last thing you did? phonecall
19. What are you wearing? sweater
20. Your TV? off
21. Your pets? cold
22. Your friends? fabulous
23. Your life? GOOD
24. Your mood? satisfied
25. Missing someone? Jan
26. Vehicle? lots
27. Something you’re not wearing? longunderwear
28. Your favorite store? Gap
29. Your favorite color? Brown
30. When was the last time you laughed? 5min ago
31. Last time you cried? hospital
32. Your best friend? amazing
33. One place that you go over and over? Starbucks
34. One person who emails you regularly? Runner’s World
35. Favorite place to eat? Out.

Ok.  So some of those ended up being a little more than one word.  I did my best.

Speaking of running…it’s –40C here today with the wind chill.  We are running the wood stove flat out and there’s STILL major ice on the windows.  And since the wood stove is running, and it’s upstairs, the basement is about 13 degrees.  Which is where the treadmill is.  13 degrees is actually pretty nice for running in the basement, you know, once you get going.  It’s the “getting going” thing that I’m having trouble with…

I’m planning to run the half-marathon again in Spring, probably just the one in Saskatoon unless I can convince Berry Guy to drag the boys all the way to B.C. for the Langley Historic Half, but that’s looking sketchy.  So there will be two to choose from around here – the Brainsport Brainfreeze which is in March, and the Sask. Marathon which is in May.   I might do both, we’ll see.

Anyway, my *plan* of maintaining my long runs by running between 7 and 9 miles every other week has kind of fallen by the wayside, as do most good plans.  At least, my plans have that tendency.  So Saturday I managed to eek out a 7miler on the treadmill while the boys watched kid shows and messed around.  5miles is apparently their personal limit, because things started to degrade rapidly after that point.  After a couple of interventions, I just cranked up my iPod so that I couldn’t hear them and just ran.  I rocked out to Pat Benetar for the last mile and it was awesome.  In fact, for not having done a run longer than 5miles in the last little while, this one felt really, really good.  I mean REALLY good.  Shockingly good.  And it was on the treadmill.  And I wasn’t watching anything entertaining.  I’m still surprised.

I’m hoping that this kick starts my long runs again, because I hate feeling every year that I’m starting from scratch when I begin my half marathon training.  Besides, this year is redemption year.  The half marathon last year was a little disappointing, even though it was still a PB.  It just wasn’t the PB that I was hoping for.  So, hopefully, this year I will redeem myself AND run 2hrs.  A girl can dream.

Yes?

Berry Baby is *sleeping* in a Big Boy Bed now.  Which actually means that he’s mucking around for about two hours before he finally falls asleep at night.  And every night, we have conversations that go like this:

You need to stay in your bed and not get out, ok?

-yes

You stay in your bed. 

-yes

NO GETTING OUT.

-yes

It’s time to go to sleep.

-yes

Sleeping is very important.

-yes

So you stay in your bed and go to sleep.

-yes

All right, I love you.  Night night.

At which point, I leave the room, close the door, and make if halfway down the hall by which point he is already out of his bed and out his door.

*sigh*

Apparently, “yes” does not mean what I think it means…

Potty Training 101

First of all, it’s important to get yourself a rockin’ pair of gitch…

Try to hold it in while you run to the bathroom.  Actually holding onto your bum while you run may or may not help…

Choose your potty – the little one…

 

or the big one…

and always, always, remember to flush.

 

**This post has been brought to you by M.A.D.D. (Mothers Against Dirty Diapers).

Pee

So the upside to peeing and pooing in the potty is, obviously, the reduction in mess.  And Berry Baby has suddenly “got it” and is yelling out “OH! PEE!” and grabbing his bum every time he feels the need to *go*, running to the bathroom in great excitement, actually being dry when we get there, and doing his business on the toilet or the little potty, whichever strikes his fancy at the time, after which there is great rejoicing and clapping of hands.

The downside, and there are a few, is getting all caught up in the great excitement to the point where he will go pee, get off the potty, celebrate, walk out of the bathroom, grab his bum and yell “OH! PEE!”, run back into the bathroom, sit, come out, go back in, sit, have a poo, celebrate, come out, go back in, sit, have another small poo,  celebrate, come out, go  back in, sit, poo a little more, celebrate, come out, go back in, pee, more rolling of eyes celebrating… All. Evening. Long.  Like tonight.  I think he has run back and forth to the potty at least ten times in the last 20min.  To the point where I am no longer putting his little gitch back on him, I’m just letting him run half naked so that every five seconds when he gets the *urge* he can just take his little self back over to the potty.

I’m sure this will pass…eventually.  I’m glad, I really am, that he’s getting the idea and is so happy to do his business on the toilet instead of in his pants.  I just wish he would do it all at once instead of in little bits and spurts (pardon the expression).

Also, because potty training in itself is not enough of a challenge for me, we have also swapped the crib for the toddler bed.  Berry Baby has been jumping into his brother’s bed every single naptime for the last 4 days and has been sleeping in there like a dream.  And also resisting being put in his crib. 

So I bit the bullet and broke out the toddler bed assembly and put it together.  He was thrilled.  So thrilled that when the lights went out and the door closed he promptly got out of his little bed, climbed up onto the small 2-drawer dresser beside the door and began to flick his light on and off repeatedly.  Clickclickclickclickclick…so we would go back in, put him back to bed, close the door, only to be greeted again by that pleasant little clickclickclickclick…

After running through that scam twice and having me move the little dresser away from the light switch, he discovered he knew how to open his door…and you can tell what kind of evening we’ll be having here.

One that involves me dipping into the Toblerone Fudge for stress relief.

Happy Holidays to me…

Blah

I find mornings excruciating.  Particularly when Berry Baby feels that 6am is a good wakeup time.  His new morning routine is this – if he wakes anytime before 7am, I take him straight downstairs, put on a kid show, and go back to bed.  I don’t even care what show I put on for him – I’m looking for length here.  3 Franklin stories?  Not long enough.  5 Franklin stories with a bonus Rollie Pollie Ollie?  Perfect. 

You would think that with a tiny bit of extra shuteye, and Berry Guy brewing me some coffee this morning, that I would be much more chipper.  Notsomuch.  There’s just not a lot that can salvage a 6am wakeup, especially when your spouse’s alarm clock then proceeds to go off every 9 minutes for the next hour.

I have an exam coming up next week.  I have yet to finish reading the actual text book.  It’s a correspondence course that I’m taking for work (because they strongly encourage us to do so) and I anticipated it being boring (because they all are) but one whole chapter on electrical safety was enough to make me want to take a drill to my head.  As was the section on fire extinguishers.  And every other section in that book. 

I’m seriously contemplating the fact that I may indeed fail this exam, and I’m not even that concerned about it.  Which is crazy, because I generally loathe the thought of failing at anything, which is why I had a mini-breakdown during my grade 10 Math exam.  I don’t fail tests. Ever.  And yet I really don’t think I could care any less about the possibility of failing this one.

Speaking of failing, I finally managed to get Berry Baby to poo on his potty, but that was on Monday.  Today is Thursday.  5 minutes ago I took him off his potty because nothing was happening, and he promptly pooed in his pullup.  Of course.

Speaking of poo, I set my Christmas tree up last night.  I managed to get the lights onto the tree this year with minimal swearing, and half of them didn’t blank out the second I’d finished getting them on.  However, when I left to go pick up a pizza for supper, the boys and Berry Guy *finished* the decorating by putting Hot Wheels all over the tree.  So in amongst my pretty gold balls and red wooden bead string and little wooden ornaments?

Cars.

Classy. 

So I put my new Starbucks Mug tree ornament front and center.  Think I’ll buy me a few more of those to kind of even things out a bit.

Merry Christmas to me.

Daily Mile is Lying to Me

I love Daily Mile – it’s such a fun place to log my runs and see what my friends have been doing for their runs.  It motivates me to run faster or longer or more often because it feeds my tiny little competitive streak.  If I see that one of my friends is running over 40miles in a week, I figure I can at least make my goal of 20.  When someone else runs a fast-paced 5k, I get the urge to pick up my pace too.

And when I hit 26miles in one week, Daily Mile sent me this fabulous motivational email that said “Hey! Awesome training last week!”, and I believed that it was sincere and that I really did have an awesome training week.

Then I got the training report for the week that I ran all of two times for a grand total of 9miles.  And Daily Mile said the same thing: “HEY!  AWESOME training last week!”.  Ummm, no.  No, it wasn’t awesome.  It was two pretty bad runs is what it was, and it was not even half of my weekly goal.

I expected more from you Daily Mile.  I expected you to give me a virtual smack upside the head and to tell me to get moving already.  That I had fallen drastically short of my goal.  That I could *totally* do better.  Or, at the very least, to say a kind “better luck this week?”.

But no, you just say “Awesome”.

Thanks for the sincerity.

This Post Sponsored by Toblerone and Starbucks Christmas Blend

 

So it turns out that the Chickenpox vaccine is definitely not 100%, because Berry Baby broke out in a smattering of pox exactly 2 weeks after Berry Boy had them.  I’m waiting to see just how bad this is going to be – he started with 2 but by the end of the day yesterday he had many many more. 

Parenting was not my forte yesterday.  I spent the majority of the day glaring at the boys for being stupid acting like caged orangutans, or yelling at them to STOP JUMPING ON THE COUCH ALREADY or to QUIT FIGHTING RIGHT NOW or such things as DON’T BITE YOUR BROTHER and SHARE THE TRUCK WITH HIM ALREADY.  It was basically a full day of refereeing, and I wasn’t doing a very good job.  I seriously considered looking for a new line of work – one that didn’t involve me acting like a bag.  Thankfully, my sister-in-law came out for the evening (the guys were out at a “Sportsman’s Night” in town, having guy time) and we ate buttery popcorn, peanut butter popcorn, Toblerone Shortbread cookies, drank some Starbucks Christmas Blend, and watched a movie that was just funny enough to take away most of my rotten attitude.

Unfortunately, I ate the majority of the peanut butter popcorn.  By myself.  Sister-in-law was little to no help.  Also unfortunate, I ate a few Toblerone cookies.  And some of the actual Toblerone.  All before my Sister-in-law showed up, because I can’t in good conscience serve cookies if I’m not sure that they taste good, right?  And then I had some more cookies while she was here, because it would have been rude to make her eat them by herself, right?  RIGHT?

So since I was stuck at home this morning with Berry Baby (who can’t go to the church nursery with his chickenpox) I hauled my butt over to the treadmill for a run.  But not before I ate a chunk of Toblerone, you know, for energy. *coughcough*  I can justify it by saying that I powered through a 4mile run in 35:36, powered solely by a few cups of Christmas Blend and a chunk of Toblerone, thankyouverymuch.

Still, one of these days I’m going to have to stop eating like a teenager and accept the fact that I’m an adult.  But maybe later.

Potty Training, In Which Berry Baby Continues To Elude His Mother

Potty training stinks.  Literally, as well as figuratively.

If I am vigilant, I can keep the little stinker in a dry pull-up all day.  I cannot, however, catch him when he poos.  Ever.

If I hear him farting and whisk him off to the toilet, and let him sit there for over 20 minutes reading to him and trying to keep him entertained, he will not poo in the toilet but will instead wait until I am frustrated enough to give up and let him go, at which point he will fill his pants not even 5 minutes after I have conceded defeat.

Like right now.

Since he was farting away, I put him on the toilet and proceeded to read “Barnyard Dance” to him 14 times while he farted occasionally.  After the 14th reading of “Barnyard Dance”, he took the book to look at it himself and promptly dropped in in the toilet, which as yet had no pee or poo in it, but is sufficiently disgusting in its clean state for me to have to throw the book away.  So we moved on to “Opposites” and “Snuggle Puppy”, and bribery with mini marshmallows.  Five readings and six marshmallows later, he got off the toilet, sat down on his little potty from Ikea and proceeded to pee, but not poo.  And now that I have conceded defeat after half an hour of toilet sitting, and have given him back his pants, he will now proceed to poo in his pull-up because I am distracted by supper and this post.

Stinker.

Dear Cadbury, thanks for the weight gain

I knew I was in trouble when you came out with the Cadbury Caramilk Bunnies.  Those tiny little Caramilk-filled milk-chocolaty pieces of goodness.

I consoled myself with the fact that you were chintzy they only came 4 to a pack, and that you only put them out around Easter.  So while I might over-indulge, at least the season was short-lived.

But NOW, NOW you come out with the tiny little Caramilk Snowmen.

DO YOU NOT LIKE ME??

Do you know how little self-control I actually have?  Do you know that the staff in my little local grocery store immediately informed me of the Snowmen presence the second I walked into the store??  Because my addiction is that well known??

I liked my pants, I really did.  Too bad I won’t be seeing much of them anymore.

Seriously, I thought we were friends.

Sincerely Thanks For Nothing,

Berry Girl.

Randomness

I’m tired lately, and I’m not sure why.  Today I got up to make Berry Boy’s lunch and pack his backpack for school, and after the bus had picked him up I plunked Berry Baby in front of the TV for kid shows and went back to bed.  Pathetic.  I’m also randomly nauseated.  So I’m thinking maybe I’m fighting a flu or a cold or something.  And I know you are now going to insinuate that I’m pregnant, but I’m pretty sure that that’s physically impossible at this point thankyouverymuch.

Because I’m so tired, I did not run on Sunday.  Or on Monday.  Ditto for Tuesday.  And today is looking sketchy.  And part of me doesn’t really care, although a larger part of me really cares, but that part is too tired to do anything about it.

I read someone’s Runner’s Wish List, and the first item on it was a Garmin Forerunner.  I’ve been contemplating something techy like this for a while, trying to figure out what type of gadget would work for me – a pedometer?  heart rate monitor?  GPS?  and I’ve settled on Garmin – the 405.  It’s pretty.  And techy.  And now I hear that one of my friends just got one for (early) Christmas, and I’m having Garmin envy.

I had a ton of fun at the scrapbooking retreat on the weekend.  Nothing beats hanging out with good friends, eating good food, snacking all day on chips and Nibs and chocolate bars and coffee and Pepsi, and looking at sweet pictures of my beautiful boys without having to actually hear them.  Bliss.  I worked primarily on Berry Baby’s album, and got to scrapbook pictures like this:

Seriously, can you stand those chubby thighs?

*sigh*

Almost makes me want another one.  Until I consider all the crying.  And the baby’s crying too.  And the not-sleeping-feeling-like-crap-all-the-time.  But those thighs, they are delicious.

Wedded Bliss

Last weekend Berry Boy’s first baby sitter (and my good friend’s daughter) got married, and she asked Berry Boy to be the Ring Bearer.

At first he wasn’t very excited about it, but when I told him he would get to walk down with his good friend who was the Flower Girl (and who is about 3 years older than him) he was all for it. 

He figured he would probably have to kiss her.

She looked a little grossed out at that prospect.

Nevertheless, he was as cute this time as he was three years ago at his cousin’s wedding:

                      at 3yrs old                                           at 6yrs old

A little leaner, a little taller, but my goodness, he destroys me with his cuteness.

“Boy.  Berry Boy.”

I’m going to go cry into my latte now and wonder where all the years went.

Jingle Bell Run 2009

So initially, my Master Plan was to kick some 10k ass  run a really fast 10k this weekend.  I was going to race this sucker and kick the crap out of it.

Then my friend Judy decided that she only had 5k in her, which was fine and didn’t deter me from my Master Plan until Berry Baby came down with bronchitis and started snotting and coughing all over me.

At which point I decided that 5k would be fine, but I was going to open up a can of  whoop ass really race that 5k.   Besides, that way Judy wouldn’t have to wait forever for me at the finish line, and plus I needed a Fall 5k for this Shave Your 5K Challenge that I stumbled across.  So my New Master Plan was to beat my Spring 5k time of 27:10.  No problem.

But then after a week of Berry Baby’s cough and snot, my own chest started to feel a little irritated.  And wheezy.  And then a little congested.  And at first I wrote it off as my asthma acting up a little, but by the middle of this week I was forced to admit that I might actually be sick.  So after a double run on Monday, I ran not a single step more.

My NEW New Master Plan was now to preserve whatever lung function I had for the 5k on Sunday, which I would now run with Judy, nice and slow and easy.

So this morning I picked Judy up, made a quick pit stop at Starbucks on our way to the race, and made it to the hotel (where package pickup and post-race party was being held) with plenty of time to spare.  I sipped my Caramel Macchiato, we grabbed our race packages and took the bags back to the truck, which is when I realized that I had forgotten to bring along my inhaler. Baaaaad.  Not only am I a bit sick, but the cool air really irritates my asthma.  So this effectively killed any possibility of running fast, which I was still stupidly considering.

We lined up for the start and then proceeded to weave our way through walkers, slower runners, and people who would just stop randomly in the middle of the path directly in front of you for no apparent reason.  Which was fine – it’s not a competitive race, it’s a “fun run”, and I pretty much expect that over half the people participating have no idea that there is such a thing as “race etiquette”.   I settled into a good pace with Judy and we just ran.  And I didn’t feel too bad – except that I could feel each and every breath as the cool air burned its way through my chest (it was maybe 2 degrees celcius).  We took a couple of walk breaks after the 5k turnaround, and I silently swore at some of the people who were now coming toward us but were still walking or jogging 4 across, leaving NO ROOM for us to get past them.  Niiiiice.  I get that some people may not realize that it’s polite to pull off to the side to stop and walk, but it would take a moron to not realize that you’re taking up the ENTIRE PATH and forcing people to run around you on the grass.

Anyway.

With half a kilometer left, my legs were itching to give ‘er, and Judy told me to “just go already”, so I took off and sprinted the last bit.  It felt awesome, but I have a feeling that I may regret it later when I can’t stop coughing.

So at the post-race party, I realized the benefits of only running the 5k – great seats, and first dibs on the food (*grin*)  I know that this race is to support Arthritis research and blah blah blah, but I really run it for the post-race breakfast – hot scrambled eggs, breakfast sausages, bagels and cream cheese…I’m totally there for the sausage.

All in all, it was a great morning.  My chest is a bit wheezy, but not as bad as I was expecting.  I’m going to credit the pre-race triple shot Caramel Macchiato – I’ve read that caffeine can relieve the effects of asthma (like I need another reason to keep drinking coffee).  I did a second Starbucks run after the race and now I can hardly wait  to hit the shower and have our friends come over for some eats and some dirt biking.

Sometimes It Helps to Laugh

I’ve been super anxious and neurotic about the whole H1N1 thing.  I am suddenly horrifyingly aware of the potential for germs EVERYWHERE.  It makes me want to stay in my home and never leave.

So I was relieved to get this little dose of perspective from one of my co-workers – a few statistics for you:

In 1997 – some death rates for Canada

1. Cancer was number 1: 58,703

2. Heart disease was number 2: 57,417

11. Suicide: 3,681

15. HIV: 626

And we're paranoid about the flu (115 deaths).

Also:

In 2006, it was estimated that 3,122 individuals were killed in motor vehicle crashes in Canada. MADD Canada estimates that at a minimum 1,278 of these fatalities involved impaired driving.  In 2006, it was estimated that about 368,396 individuals were injured in motor vehicle crashes. MADD Canada estimates that approximately 75,374 of these individuals were injured in impaired driving crashes (207 per day).

According to Wikipedia, there have been 115 confirmed deaths from swine flue in Canada and just over 12,300 confirmed cases (so 12,185 recovered).

So that was helpful.  But what really helped to settle my nerves was this Rick Mercer rant that someone posted on Facebook.  It made my day and lightened my anxiety, just by poking fun at the fear:

Love it.  I laughed my ass off.

As I did when I saw this:

I love this too.  Running really can be hilarious, like when you try the incline program on your treadmill for the first time *wink*, or when you are running your guts out and you get passed by a guy wearing a chicken costume.  Or when you go for a long run and hook your sleeve on your nose ring and hallucinate jelly fish in puddles.

Hope that lightens your day too!

Hammy

I have nothing to say to this.

He kills me.

 

Kinda reminds me of this though:

Two

 

As if it weren’t bad enough that Berry Boy won’t stop growing up, Berry Baby is rapidly become less “baby” and more “boy” every day.

And he’s destroying me with his cuteness.

He blew out his candles…

 

and tucked into his cake

just like his mother would…

It’s good to see that some of my traits have been passed on to my boys…

namely, food enjoyment.

Six

We’ve finally rounded the corner from Birthday Week – Berry Boy had a birthday last Monday, followed by Berry Baby on Saturday, and Berry Guy the following Monday.  In related news, I will be breaking out my maternity pants to accommodate my expanding hips and waistline.  And I’m not pregnant.

Anyway.  Somehow, Berry Boy has managed to get increasingly taller and older, in spite of numerous orders to stop growing already accompanied by many warnings as to what his getting older and bigger is going to do to his poor mother’s heart.

Kids these days.  They just don’t listen.

I find it remarkable that he can look so much older in one moment, and then still seem so small and cute the next.  When I watch him playing with his friends or his little brother, he seems so big.  And then I see him in his helmet and goggles on his little dirt bike, and he seems so little again.  I’m not so sure I’m going to survive this whole motherhood thing.

Berry Boy really wanted a Transformers birthday party, so we invited some friends over and played party games like Stomp The Balloon, and Transformer Tag…

Then he opened his gifts…

and ate his Transformers ice cream cake (because I was too lazy to figure out how to decorate a Transformers birthday cake, and let’s face it, there’s nothing like ice cream cake…)

   

I think a good time was had by all.  And the ice cream cake sure helps to ease the mother’s pain.

Sure isn’t helping my jeans fit though…

Post-Turkey

In honor of Thanksgiving and stuffing smothered in gravy and pumpkin pie and whipped cream and chocolate cheesecake, I have not done a single run.  I wanted all that Thanksgiving deliciousness to settle appropriately on my butt and thighs.

I managed a stress-reducing 7mile long run in between phone calls from my siblings on Sunday, but then did not manage to get in my recovery run on Monday.  It’s my new *thing* that I’m trying – taking off the day before the long run, doing the long run, and then the day after doing an easy paced recovery run.  Apparently, it’s supposed to help recovery/muscle soreness/etc.  I’m game.  But it didn’t happen last week or this week, so back on the wagon for this week I guess.

Anyway, I was going to run last night, but was just too tired after being in a seminar all day long, then trying to work out travel details all evening (to go see my Dad).  Sounds like I will fly out on Friday and be back home on Monday, when I will only have to (1) immediately celebrate in some way Berry Boy’s 6th birthday; (2) take off to the church to speak at a bridal shower; (3) then plan Berry Boy’s “friend” Transformer Birthday Party, Berry Baby’s 2nd birthday party, and Berry Guy’s 40-somethingish birthday party.  I’m already exhausted.

So it was back on the treadmill this morning to burn off a bit of the stress – short notice travel, leaving the boys for 4 days, letting Berry Guy be in charge – I hammered out some 800m repeats this morning and it did the job.  I feel better.

Before that though, I spent a little time with my Bible, and that added much peace to my spirit.  I may need to do more of both by the end of the day…

Thankful, Health Edition

23. Today, I am thankful that my Dad made it through the night.  We got a call from my brother yesterday morning that Dad had been taken to the hospital Saturday night for stroke-like symptoms, and then another call Sunday after church that things were going very poorly.  24. I am thankful that the risky treatment that they gave was effective and didn’t cause a more massive stroke, 25. I am thankful that my oldest brother lives close to my parents and was therefore able to be with my Mom the whole time at the hospital, and 26. I’m thankful that Dad can kind of talk today and respond to the people around him.

27.  On a lighter note, I’m thankful for Pumpkin Pie

28.  And Saskatoon Berry Pie

29.  And stuffing

30.  And turkey

31.  And mashed potatoes

32.  And gravy

33.  And a clean house

34.  And the husband who has helped to clean it, and to keep it clean

35.  But mostly I’m thankful for my family – my husband, my boys, my siblings, my parents, my in-laws, and all the friends around us who feel like family.

Thankful – creepy noise edition

22. For Prairie Chick, who is coming to spend the evening with me helping me eat Lemon Sugar Cookies, drink coffee and/or Pepsi, consume large quantities of Peanut Butter Popcorn, and watch “Hello Dolly!”, which is only one of the best musicals of all time.  I just love Barbara, that’s all I have to say.  I am especially thankful for this because Berry Guy is off to watch a football game in Regina, which is fine, except I hate being at home alone at night, and I just heard the strangest and creepiest *animal* noise, which wasn’t quite as creepy as the time I heard the cougar close to our yard, but was still sufficiently creepy enough to make me lock my doors.  Because that really helps keep the creepy animals at bay.  What with their opposable thumbs and all.

Thankful, with a rant

So I went to the city today for my pre-Thanksgiving shopping spree and finally remembered to bring in the two pairs of pants that I wanted to get altered. These are pants that fit perfectly out of the wash, but as soon as you sit down in them they bag out uncontrollably. I was hoping that if I got them taken in at the waist a little they would wear better.

Anyway, I took them to the lady in the Mall that I always take stuff to, and she measured me and told me how skinny I was for having had a baby (who is 2...but I wasn't going to argue with blatant flattery), marked off my pants and wrote up the bill.

When I went to the counter to pre-pay for the pants, her assistant punched in the total on the debit machine and handed it to me. At which point I almost dropped the debit machine in shock and horror.

She was going to charge me $49.80 to nip in the waist of two pairs of my pants. Seriously? That's more than I paid for both pants combined. One pair I picked up at The Gap on sale, and the other were from Superstore (don't judge - they're the most awesome pair of plaid casual-dress pants ever).

After I stopped hyperventilating I handed the debit machine back to the lady and told her that it was way too much and thank you anyway and I would just take the pants somewhere else. And by somewhere else, I meant home.

For $49.80, I will just buy new pants. Or a belt.

Besides, it's Thanksgiving this weekend, and by *this* weekend I mean *all* weekend, and I just made a large batch of those Crack Cocaine cookies that I mentioned yesterday, so by Tuesday those pants should be just about perfect.

Speaking of cookies, so far this afternoon I have eaten 4* of those babies, and not 4 small cookies but 4 pumpkin-shaped cookies, which would equal about 8 of the smaller ones...the first 2 were just because I wanted them, and the second two I'm going to call "fuelling up for my run" *cough cough*.

(*this total does not include the cookies that I ate for breakfast...)

and on to the list...

18. For pants that are too big

19. For my Quad Grande Americano Misto that I enjoyed during my surprisingly stress-free** time at the mall this morning

(**excluding, obviously, the panic attack at the seamstress shop)

20. For good advice from good friends - Chris, I *do* believe we have solved the computer-after-school issue, and you, my friend, are a genius, and I'm not just saying that.

21. For the start of Small Group last night, and getting together with good friends who care for us and who we care for, and for visiting and laughing and telling stories and sharing and eating really deadly chocolate/caramel cookies and chips with fresh salsa

Thankful, Pictorial Edition

15. For 2-yr olds…

to whom a hockey stick is an obvious choice for a gun…

(and yes, I am aware that his pants are undone.  I have no idea what’s going on there…)

16. For the first fire of the season in the wood stove…

and the warmth that it brings.

17. For kittens…

and the 6-yr old who loves them, and that as yet I have not run over any of them with my car (although we all know this is more than likely going to happen…)

18. For Chris’s Crack Cocaine Lemon Sugar Cookies…

which I am going to be ever so thankfully making today (because I’ve been craving them since August) and which helped me through many a stressful spot on the 4x4 adventure (because nothing soothes stress like Lemon Sugar Cookies and a cup of fresh coffee).

17. and mostly today, I am thankful that both of Berry Baby’s puking incidents yesterday occurred when I was not present but Berry Guy was.  Not because I want him to have to clean up puke, but absolutely because I don’t want to have to clean up puke.

Thankful

 

5. Sooooo thankful that so far this morning Berry Baby has only barfed once, and that he did it before the neurotic Berry Boy woke up, and that Berry Boy therefore made it to school without freaking out about The Puke.

6. For Mennonite Girls Can Cook, and the roast chicken recipe that involved laying bacon on top of the seasoned bird (have mercy)…it was the BEST roast chicken I have ever made, and those drippings made the BEST gravy, and I will totally be using that strategy on my Turkey for Monday…

7. For work, and work-from-home, and the additional money it brings in.

8. For cream cheese

9. And whipping cream.

10. For my treadmill, which allows me to run year-round, and helps me push myself, and staves off the effects of the aforementioned cream cheese and whipping cream.

11. For the rare but lovely mornings when I get to doze off and on for an hour before getting out of bed.

12. For the rare but lovely mornings when I get out of bed to hot coffee lovingly prepared for me by Berry Guy.

13. For patience in playing Lego.

14. For espresso, and that lovely crema foam on the surface of the espresso that tells you that you just made a really really good shot.

Trouble

That little one, he’s definitely trouble.

The older one, he gives me trouble, but that little one, he embodies trouble.

Fortunately, they’re both ridiculously cute.

So it’s seven days until Thanksgiving, where we will enter that wonderful state of turkey-and-pumpkin-pie-induced-stupor, and when I break out the maternity pants so that I have enough room to shovel in as much turkey, stuffing, gravy and mashed potatoes as possible.

Just kidding.  I’ll wear normal stretchy pants.

I love holidays that involve turkey.  I plan to ramp up my running mileage this week to prepare for the gluttony.

I was also thinking that I would prepare for Thanksgiving by counting off the things I’m thankful for.  Because I’m 35 this year, I think I will count off 35 things that I am thankful for.

So, to start, (in no particular order of significance) I am so thankful for:

1. Coffee.  Whole coffee beans that are fresh and a little oily, that give off that amazing aroma as you grind them, and then get transformed into this nectar of blissfulness.  Ahhhh.  I love how coffee can make a bad day good, and a good day better.

2. Those two trouble makers.  They’re absolutely gorgeous and they fill my heart to bursting.  They are incredibly irritating and incredibly sweet.

3. Their father.  Because he is the best father to those two boys, because he calls me “precious” and not in a mocking way but also not in an icky way, because he thinks I’m beautiful even when it’s first thing in the morning and my hair is sticking up in ways that no one should ever have to see, and because he loves me even when I sometimes can’t quite figure out why.

4. For Fall.  For the crisp air, the color on the trees, the wonderfully musty smell of decay as plants and leaves die, for being able to clean up my flower beds, for being able to watch the combines and swathers on the fields, for cooler weather running, and for lighting the wood stove for the first time of the season.

Zzzzzzz…

You know, while we were having all that trouble with Berry Baby and his sleeping (for like, the past year) I thought I was feeling pretty good in spite of it all.  Meaning, in spite of the significant lack of sleep, I figured I was still functioning pretty well.

Until I started to sleep.

And now, I realize that while I may have thought I was functioning ok, it was nothing compared to how well I am feeling now.

For example, yesterday afternoon I thought I might try to get in a nap.  Unfortunately, I waited a bit too long and Berry Baby woke up when I had barely crawled into bed.  Now normally, this would send me through the roof with frustration, but this time I just shrugged it off, got him up, and got some stuff done rather.

After a productive afternoon I actually managed to keep my momentum all the way through supper and dishes and bedtimes.  At which point I usually make the mistake of sitting down for a few minutes and end up being toast for the rest of the evening.  Last night though, after the boys were in bed, I still had tons of pep. Enough that I didn’t have to drag myself onto the treadmill for my run – I actually enjoyed getting on there and hammering out my 800m repeats.  So much so that the 3 repeats that I had planned to do morphed into 5.  I felt fabulous.  I still feel fabulous today.

Now, it could have been the Pepsi that I enjoyed with my supper last night combined with the Peanut M&M’s I’d been snacking on (note to self, put away the open bag), but I think it’s been a growing trend in the last week or so.  I’m better at getting stuff done around the house.  I don’t feel wiped out all the time.  I’m actually picking up the random toy that’s laying in the middle of the hallway instead of walking past it fifty bazillion times.  I’m folding the laundry, and getting it into the appropriate rooms before it’s been sitting in the laundry room in a heap for a week.  Or more.

Which is not to say that my house looks fabulous, or that I’m suddenly on top of everything (obviously not, as I almost missed my appointment on Tuesday), but I can definitely feel a difference.

I think it’s sleep.

Seriously, who knew?

I’m starting to drink coffee again because I enjoy it, and not necessarily because it’s the only way that I can possibly function.

I could get used to this.

There must be a drink for that…

Screaming Berry Baby who absolutely must sit on your lap while you try to eat supper?  Check

Wailing Berry Boy who “didn’t get to play long enough” at his friend’s house and subsequently had a meltdown and is therefore grounded from both going to friends and having friends over, which results in yet more meltdown?  Check

Irritated Berry Girl, who woke up crabby and was unsuccessful in being not snarky to her spouse this morning?  Check

10:00am appointment for Berry Girl that she was sure to be ready for until the clinic called her at 9:10am to find out where she was for her 9:00am appointment?  Oh yeah. Check

A filthy floor that just got vacumed and mopped and was immediately spilled on…twice…?  Check.

Gigantic bag of M&Ms?  Check.

Race Report

It started off perfectly.  I left with My Girls (the three lovely and incredible ladies that I go up to Elkridge with every year) and we stopped at the halfway point for supper at our favorite restaurant.  Chris and her “girls” met us there, and all seven of us had the most fabulous meal.  I don’t think pork has ever tasted quite that good – stuffed with apple and asiago cheese, and drizzled with some kind of maple sauce that was to die for.

We parted ways – Chris and her girls went to spend the night with a friend in the city, and I headed up to the Lodge/Resort with My Girls.  We lounged in our room, visited, giggled, silently cursed the obnoxious people who were talking loudly in the hallway (seriously, do people have no sense of common courtesy?) and eventually fell asleep.

In the morning, we mocked the snorers, had coffee and cinnamon buns and cheese, and got ready for the race.  It was smoking hot outside, and the race was PACKED.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people out for this race.  It was amazing.  And congested.  Which was maybe ok because it forced me to start conservatively.  I ran with Jan and Machon, and we wove our way around slower runners until the pack thinned out a bit, and then we settled into our pace.

Still, by the time we had completed the first loop of the 10k race, my legs were feeling heavy.  We took a quick walk break, and then kept on plugging.  5k-7.5k felt not so bad, but then we started hitting the seriously bad hills again, and what I could run through the first time I just couldn’t the second time.  After another walk break I made Jan and Machon carry on without me, but managed to keep them in sight until the very end.

I hit the last set of brutal hills – there are two super steep hills toward the end of the loop – walked both of them, but ran when I’d finished them and managed to pull out a strong-ish finish.  Which just means I managed not to walk at the very end.

Still, I managed to pull out a PR for this course and finished in 1:01:28 – not my best 10k time, but definitely my best on this particular course.  So I am thrilled.

I then had the privilege of watching Chris come across the finish line of her very first 10k.  I’m so proud of her!  And she pulled off an amazing race for a first time!

We finished off the day with a caramel macchiato, an outstanding deli sandwich (at, would you believe, Safeway?), a quick trip through Winners, and then home.

Pretty much the perfect weekend.

In Which We Quickly Learn That Maybe We Are Not A Morning Person/Runner/Anything really.

I already know that I am not a morning person.  It’s well documented by Berry Guy, who *affectionately* refers to me as “the bear”, as in “oh look, The Bear has emerged from her cave” or something along those lines.

But I’d really like to be a morning person.  I really would.  I’d love to be one of those people who kick themselves out of bed at 5:30am so that they can get their run in and be home by 6:30am, and then have their whole day ahead of them to sip coffee and do all their stuff (you know they sip coffee because lord knows they’re going to need it after waking up at 5:30).

Every once in a while, I’ll get the urge to change my pattern (like I did back in June).  I’ll start to think about how great it would be if I got up, had my run, and then was ready for the day.  I’ll get all excited and start planning it.  I’ll think about what time I should get up, how long I will run, and which route (which really just means I decide if I’ll head North or South, there’s not a lot of options out here).  I’ll plan my clothing – should I wear shorts or capris?  One of my sassy running tanks, or a sports bra and shirt?  If it’s cool, I’ll want long sleeves, but I’ll want to take them off half way when I start to heat up, so how should I layer that?  I’ll plan to get up just early enough to get some espresso going and slam back a latte, so I’ll pre-grind my espresso beans that evening so that I don’t wake the kiddos with the grinder at 5:30am.  I’ll get really excited, and in all my planning I’ll be thinking “Sweet! This is going to be SO GREAT!” 

You’ll notice that all this sweet planning takes place in the evening.  When I have loads of energy.  Before I go to bed.  I’m sure you know what’s coming.

Every time, pretty much, my wakeup time rolls around, I glare at my alarm, smack it off, and roll over.  Because it’s 5:30am, for crying out loud.  And then, when I’ve regained consciousness an hour or two later, I am filled with regret and self loathing, because I am not disciplined enough to do it.

So last night, my running friend Machon messaged me and asked me if I would run with her this morning at 8am.  I messaged her back and said “totally! sure!” and got all excited about it.  After all, 8am is not really *early*, since the boys are always up at the crack of 7:00 anyway.

So I got up this morning, brewed some coffee, had a little cereal, and hopped out the door to meet Machon.  The plan was to do 8km – a long run for her but a pretty normal distance for me.  No problem. Plus, we’re really well matched for pace, and I enjoy running with her.

We start off, and I warn her that I’m slower in the mornings, and she is relieved because she is too.  And as the run progresses, I am reminded why I don’t like to get up and run in the mornings.  My legs feel like lead.  My head is foggy.  It’s really cool outside.  And my legs feel like lead. 

We continue running, and I’m fairly certain that we’ve run at least 5km by now.  Which is when Machon calls out “well that’s 3!” as her Nike+ keeps informing her how far we’ve gone.  I suddenly hate Nike+.  We keep running, and my legs and lungs decide to form a union and strike for unfair work conditions.  Machon calls out “4km!” and I want to lay down on the road and stay there for a while.  I’m desperate to beg for mercy and ask for a walk break, but I don’t because I’m way too much of a moron proud and competitive for that, and Machon is not asking for a walk break, so therefore I can’t either.

I struggle through another couple of kms, and then we hit 6km, and I *almost* start to feel ok.  Then Machon calls out “7km” and we have one more to go.  And it is the longest kilometer of my life.  It is like the horrible run that has no end.  When we finally stop, I am so relieved I want to cry.  Well not really, I’m just really really relieved.

And that, my friends, is why I am not a morning runner.  And I’m writing it down so that the next time I get all excited and planny (I know, that’s not a word), then I can look back on this blog entry and remember my own misery.

Although, once we were done, and I’d had some more coffee, and I had the whole day ahead of me with no pressure to try to fit in a run later, I was kind of glad…

“Hair” you are.

So fine, you asked for it.  I was disinclined to acquiesce to your request (name that movie) because I don’t normally like to put pictures of myself on the blog (namely because I don’t generally like pictures of myself), but I like most all of you, so here you are.

This was me (as you may remember) pre-haircut:

There was an in-between haircut that I do not have a photo of, but was supposed to look (and kind of did) like this:

but it was too shaggy on me, and apparently looked like I hadn’t done my hair even when I had.

So I got it cut to this:

and now I’m much happier.

The end.