(More than) Fourinarow.net

You would think, with school five days a week and the SAME ROUTINE every day, that mornings would run a little more smoothly.

Ha.

Yesterday, I’m trying to herd everyone out the door, and trailing behind is Luke.  Who can’t find his shoes.  How can this be?  My children are suposed to remove their shoes upon entering the house and place them directly into cubbies (not on, near, or in the same room as the cubbies, but IN A CUBBY).  If you’ve been here, then you know I don’t ask other people to take off their shoes at the door. Heck, I have five kids, a dog and floors that are 70 years old.  But, I do require that MY children remove their shoes, for the SOLE purpose of being able to find them when we need to leave the house.

While the other kids are getting into the van and Luke is wandering around the house praying to St. Anthony, Andrew brings me HIS shoes.  And sits down, demanding with gestures that I put them on.  Of all days, the baby who rarely walks ’cause he’s always toted around, needs to have his shoes on!  At least he knew where his were.

After taking care of Andrew, I finally found Luke’s shoes.  In my room.  Of course, he has NO IDEA how they got there, since he certainly didn’t put them there.  (No doubt a sibling put them there just to make him late.)

Upon arriving at school (finally) there was a great commotion in the back seat.  ”Mom!” Maria demands.  ”You need to move Sam’s seat again.  He never lets me get by unless I give him the password.  It’s ‘Pizza Pie,’ and I can never remember!”

Okaaaaaay.  Is this normal, you think?

I shoved everyone out of the van, tossed their lunches at them, yelled “have a nice day!” and was just about to squeal out of there when Sam came running back to the car.  He forgot to kiss his baby brother good-bye.  Which would be cute if it wasn’t so annoying (as I’m sure the people lined up behind me thought).

Finally, I was outta there.  Just me and Andrew.  As I pulled into the driveway I saw the front door standing wide open.  Sheesh.  I guess it’s a good thing we a) have an attack dog; and b) nothing worthy to steal.

I was so tired (bridge was the night before) I could’ve cried.  My plan was to lock myself in the basement with Andrew and take a nap.  More easily said than done.  Despite a plethora of toys, with no playmates Andrew had trouble entertaining himself.  Which meant I was constantly poked and prodded and climbed upon.  Needless to say, no nap for me!

In no time, it was time to get Sam from kindergarten and then the others from school.  Except Luke, who went home with a friend.

We got homework knocked out and I started on dinner while trying to entertain a crabby Andrew (who didn’t get a nap either).  The phone rang around 5:15.  ”Hmmmm… What could she want?” I thought when I saw the name on my caller ID. Then, almost simultaneously, I was doing an Oh-Shit because I realized I had FORGOTTEN TO PICK UP MY SON.

Mother of the Year, here.

Thank goodness Dan’s perfect, or we’d really be screwed.

Gran and Maddog came to visit for the weekend.  I think, in between all the activity, they got to see everyone.

Dan and I may have corrupted our son… Luke ran his first 5K over the weekend.  (And can’t wait for the next one!)

Everyone (except Andrew) also played soccer this weekend. While there are too many overlaps for me to go to all of the games, I did manage to get to Sam’s game:

And to Maria’s game:

Dan coached Luke’s team in the morning and then ref’d Maria’s game in the afternoon (isn’t he so professional looking?):

And Andrew watched:

A few years ago, I remember talking on the phone with my good friend Troy, while I was driving to pick up the kids from school (I know, I know).  In front of me was a car, and it had a white, round sticker (like those European ones) on the back with 26.2 written in black.  “What does that mean, anyway?” I asked Troy.  “26.2 can’t be a radio station…”

“It’s a marathon,” she told me.

OH.

Well, how was I supposed to know?  I wasn’t a runner, and athlete, of any kind.  The most I did was try to kill myself in Wendy’s power lift class at the Y, or mosey along for a while on the eliptical.   (I’ll be honest:  I needed the free daycare more than I cared about any workout.)  At some point my friend Kristina (who had run a marathon!) suggested we run a race of some kind.  I don’t really remember what it was… maybe the zoo 5K?  I entertained the idea for a couple of days before deciding getting pregnant (again) would be less excruciating.

Pregnant.  A great excuse to be a sloth.

So as to keep this novel short(er), I’ll fast-forward a few years to a different city, another baby, and more sloth.

This city?  Runners.  EVERYWHERE.  It’s what people do here.  (Weird, I know.)

Dan joined the local running club (he’s always been a runner) and last year ran his first half-marathon.  I was impressed, but not so impressed that I was going to brave the elements and the children to cheer him on or anything.  (Yes, yes.  Wife of the year here.)

Several of the moms I’m friends with are also runners.  They’d pull up in their vans with their 13.1 stickers and then chat in the parking lot about their running and their races.  “You should join us!” They’d tell me.  “We run at 5:30, before anyone is up.” 

?!?

I was starting to think I needed other friends.  I mean, who the hell gets up at o’dark thirty to RUN?

Then, around Christmastime, Dan and I went to a running club Christmas party.  I was a fish out of water, but it was at my friend Anne’s house (one of the 5:30 a.m. crazies), and I liked having an excuse to get a babysitter and get out of the house for a few hours with Dan.  Plus, despite what you might think, runners like beer.

During the party, Anne and I snuck off to chat and somewhere in that chat was mention of The Shamrock Shuffle.  An 8K race in downtown Chicago.  “There are a bunch of us doing it,” she told me.  “You should do it, too.  It’s really fun.”

Well, I must have been over-served that night, ’cause I actually gave it a three-second thought.  And then, of course, dismissed it.

But, every time I saw one of these crazies ladies, they’d mention the race and what fun it was going to be.  They were sure I could do it.  They could give me a training program.  I should just try.  No one would care if I just walked.  Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.

Well, one night I was drinking a beer with Dan and talking about it with him.  I looked the race up on the web and checked out the registration information.  “Do it,” he told me.  “Sign up!”

And, I caved.  I figured I could try the training and if I hated it, I’d just back out of the race.

But, I didn’t back out.  I trained by myself on a treadmill (this Texas chick hates the cold), at a reasonable hour of the morning (this chick also loves sleeping), at the Y (every treadmill has a TV).  And, before I knew it, there were a bunch of us headed to the city at o’dark thirty, to run some crazy race.

It was a BLAST.

After that race, I kept running.  But, instead of on the treadmill, I ran with the crazies, VERY early in the morning, cold or not.  And that’s where they really got me.

“You should run the half with us,” they said.

“Hahahahahahahahaha,” I said.

“No, really.  We did it last year and we’re going to do it again this year.  It’s really not that hard.”

Something must happen to your brain when you run, because eventually, I found myself saying yes.  Me.  Running 13.1 miles.  When, in March I’d run the first mile I’d run in… 10 years?

As far as training, I ran when my friends did, as far as they did.  I listened to their tips on running, stretching, reading and eating.

And then, suddenly, it was time for the Chicago Half Marathon.

I was looking forward to it, not so much for the race (which had me nervous) but for the fancy accommodations and girl-time.  Becky (the other crazy)’s cousin has a fancy condo in a downtown high-rise and was letting us have it for the night before the race.  So, on Saturday, we left the kids with the hubbies and drove to the city.  We visited the expo, where we picked up our race packets and bought some “must-have” paraphernalia, and then lounged around the condo waiting for the rest of our group to join us.  (There were 6 of us.)  Once they arrived, we all made dinner, enjoyed a glass of wine, indulged in cake pops and cookies, and watched a movie.

View from the kick-ass accommodations

Mmmmmm. Cake pops!

We were up at 4 the next morning and on the train, headed for the race, by 5:30.

It was GREAT.  So many people, so much energy.  Music, signs, team shirts…

The race started at 7, and for me, it was all over 2 hours, 19 minutes and 15 seconds later.

Me.  The non-runner.  The non-early riser.

I think I have a new addiction.  Already, I’m signed up for a 10K in October, a 15K in November, and my favorite, another half marathon in December.

That half will be in Dallas, where my best friends from high school are getting together to run, walk or cheer.  It’ll be a great run, but a better reunion!  Michelle (one of the group) is currently recovering from extensive surgery, but will be out running and training again soon.  Running that half will be a huge victory.

Crazy.

It looks good, don’tcha think?

A couple of weeks ago, Dan and I left his parents with ALL of our children, and flew out to California to see my sister get married.

Of course, I didn’t post about it while I was gone because a) It’s much harder to type when each hand is holding a beer; and b) I wouldn’t want anyone to get wind of us being gone.  (It would be almost effortless to walk in and steal our computer, for example, while the kids had Grandma and Grandpa tied up in the basement.)

The day after we returned, the kids started school and so started the complete and utter chaos (of a different variety that was experienced during the summer months) that is my life.  Hence, I’m just now posting about the weekend away from the kids wedding.

The weather, of course, was perfect.  (Which is why, I think, my sister never comes to visit me in Chicagoland.)

The perfectly manicured backyard was literally glowing – with tiny little white lights along the fence – as was my sister.  Never did I see her without a very wide, joyful smile on her face.

Following her twin sister and niece, our father walked her up the aisle to Train’s “Marry Me.”

And, he did.

Despite our flying off to the glamorous West Coast for the weekend, my kids didn’t really ask for anything.  Except for Lukie: “Will you bring back a picture of The Kiss?” He asked me.  He even asked about it when I spoke with him on the phone before coming home.  “Did you get the picture?”

I did.

I know… I figured that wouldn’t cut it, either.  So, I was sure to get another one:

And they’ll live happily ever after!

My brother came to visit us over the weekend.  A while back, he and Dan signed up to run a half-marathon in a nearby town.

Poor Greg has had to do his training in the Texas heat over the last few months.  That, or he’s had to take to the treadmill.  No fun.

Well, he must have been almost frigid this morning, waiting for the race to start, as we had sub 60 degree temps.

The kids and I all hustled out there to cheer for Greg and Dan.  We found a spot in the sun, but it was still chilly, especially for poor Andrew, who’s under the weather right now.  Jack found a tree to perch in and Luke ran back down the course a bit so he could spot his dad first.

Despite taking some (good) practice photos of random people, I didn’t get a very good one of Dan.  They were either blurry:

or he had his eyes closed:

The blurry ones were probably ’cause he was running so fast – he reached his goal by finishing in 1:51:03.

Greg did well, too, and when the kids found him, they ran to the finish line alongside him:

Somehow, they all got medals:

Toward the end of last year and before school began this year, the three oldest kids begged me to buy them Thermoses.  Begged.  I don’t know who in their classes were bringing warm leftovers, but Jack and Maria insisted that they wanted to do it, too.  And Luke, wanting to be like them, insisted the same.

I kept putting it off, (do you know what some Thermoses cost?!?) but they didn’t let it go.  So, when I found some very plain (i.e. no characters) Thermoses for about $4 each, I bought them.

The kids were thrilled.  They went home, grabbed the Sharpies and went to work personalizing their new, super cool Thermoses.

They asked for something in their Thermoses on the first day of school, but that was only an hour.

They asked for something in their Thermoses on the second day of school, but that was only a half-day.

They asked for something in their Thermoses on the third day of school, but I had nothing to give them.

On the evening of the third day of school, we had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  The kids held themselves to a single serving so that they could bring the leftovers to school – in their Thermoses – the next day.

And so they did.  I dutifully heated up leftover spaghetti and meatballs (for Jack), spaghetti and sauce only (for Maria) and meatballs only (for Luke.)

On the way home, I asked Jack about the sauce on his shirt.  Of course, it was from the meatball that didn’t quite make it to his mouth, but did make it down his shirt and onto the floor.  I asked Maria about her lunch and she told me she was too full to eat her spaghetti (birthday treats of some sort had been consumed during lunch).  I asked Luke about his lunch and he said it was GREAT!

The next day (Friday) we were back to the basics, but the kids were thrilled when we had tortellini on Sunday night and they could use their Thermoses again on Monday.

Once again, I heated leftovers and filled their Thermoses and sent them off to enjoy their hot lunches.

On the way home, Jack told me that his tortellini was gross and hard.  Luke said his tortellini was cold and wet and DISGUSTING.  Maria said her lunch was too short, and after eating her Oreos she didn’t have time to eat her tortellini (which she thought was a good thing considering the boys’ experience).

“I’m never using that Thermos again!” Luke declared.  And Jack and Maria chimed in with similar sentiments.

Anyone need a Thermos?  I’ve got three.  Custom decorated.  Perfect condition.

Well, I’ve skipped a challenge or two.  But, that’s because the one for Friday was “Sunset.”  Really?  ‘Cause around the time of sunset, I’m a little busy… Washing dishes, washing babies, screaming at some children and putting others to bed.  It is NOT a good time for me to grab my camera and run outside.  Or, maybe it is.  Problem is, I doubt I’d come back in.

So, I’ve made up my own challenge for the weekend:  Hair.

Isn’t it beautiful?!?  Maria spent the night with a friend on Friday and her friend’s mom braided her hair the next morning.  I LOVE it.  Too bad she’ll never have it like this again, seeing as a) I can’t braid; and b) Maria screams when I even pretend to touch her hair.

While on the subject of Maria, I spent a gorgeous afternoon with her and Andrew today.  Not enjoying the weather, bike riding, skating, or doing some other outdoor activity.  No… my little reader wanted the newest Wimpy Kid book.  She’d been asking for a while and since her Dad said “yes,” I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for a trip to Target.

Problem was, our Target is apparently doing something new with their book section and there were very few books out.  No Wimpy Kid ones.  We asked, but the salesperson didn’t have a clue.  So, off to Barnes & Noble we went.  Very, very slowly.  The highway to B&N was under construction and down to one lane.  Ugh!  It took us FOREVER to get just a few miles.

Then, when we reached the store, the parking lot was packed full.  Fine.  I didn’t mind walking, and Maria was determined to have her book.  I parked a few miles away, opened the back of my van to retrieve the stroller and found… No stroller.  Shit.  That meant I had to carry Andrew across the parking lot and through the gigantic bookstore AND figure out how I was going to use the bathroom while there (Diet Dr. Pepper habit, you know.)  I couldn’t just set him down, as he was barefoot.

We trekked across the lot, into the store, up the escalator and wandered until we found the restrooms.  Once inside, I gave Andrew to Maria to hold and peed as fast as I could.  (Andrew is getting awfully big for her to handle for very long.)  We survived the experience in tact and headed to the “Young Readers” section of the store.

“But I’m not young,” Maria says.

“Yes, you are,” I say.

“No, I’m not!” She tells me.

“Yes, you are,” I tell her.  “You are certainly not old.  You are still a child.  A ‘Young Reader’.  See, (I pointed to the books she was familiar with) we are in the right section.”

She proceeded to tell me the author’s last name and we found two Wimpy Kid books, but not the right one.  We wondered around the entire kids’ section, thinking there might be a Wimpy Kid display with some more books.  And, we found some, but not the right one.

So, I headed over to the computer to do a search.  (Andrew was squirming violently at this point, but there was NO WAY I was letting him down.)  Maria told me that the name of the new book is “Cabin Fever” and I pecked it into the keyboard. After correcting several mistakes (it’s not easy to type one-handed with a squirming child on your hip) I hit “search”.

And the results appeared:  “Coming in November 2011.  Reserve your copy today!”

“MARIA!!!” I said somewhat exasperatedly.  “It’s not even OUT yet!  We have been on a total wild goose chase!!!”

“Oops,” she said.  “I didn’t know.  Let’s just get a different book, then!”

That’s the challenge today:  something blue.

Is there enough blue here for you?  THIS is the first day of school picture.

I know you wish you were me.

I think I may start changing up my titles.  This Photo Challenge bit is starting to get a little boring.  But, I know you’re just dying to know what the next one is.  Right?

A Childhood Memory

This was a toughie.  I mean, how do you take a picture of a memory?  I think I managed to pull it off:

I’ve had this guy for as long as I can remember.  He’s a bank (and an elephant, if you can’t tell) and is still full of the bicentennial quarters and Susan B. Anthony dollars my dad used to save for me.

He’s not as shiny and pretty as he once was… I tried to shine him up with polish once, only to find myself rubbing the silver plating right off his nose.

Photo challenge 7 was “fruit.”

So.  Here’s some fruit:

This was some of the fruit served at my sister’s wedding party.

I prefer Photo Challenge 9, which is “Someone you love.”

Need I say more?  A cool extra thing about this photo is the background.  See the photos on the fridge in the background?  One is of my niece and nephew and the other is of my kids – all of whom I love dearly!