Happy 71st Birthday Mom!

Singing LOUD

Originally uploaded by sellke

May all your wishes come true.

Last Day of School

Ohhh they can’t wait for this day to be done.  Do you remember the excitement?

This one can’t wait for the end of the year paper fight on the bus.

This one is struggling with what to do for the end of the year talent show: singing, dancing, jokes.  Who is to say.  But she was dressed and ready to go by 6:45 sharp.

This one is ready for anything, as always.

Let summer officially begin…I’m thinking Gin and tonics.

Half right most of the time

Like I said yesterday, KP gets about 90% of everything 50% correct.  I am not sure if he just isn’t listening, if he can’t hear or if he just doesn’t care.  I’m sure it is bits and pieces of both.  Regardless, when he get’s it wrong, it is always 100% funny.

The following is a conversation that took place when I was taking one of his friends home from a playdate.

Jack:  Hey, there’s our school.

KP:  Yeah.  Where are you going to school next year?

Jack:  I’m going to Mrs. Kalotski’s class.  Are you going there?

KP:  No, I’m going to Chin Chin Acadamy.

Jack:  What language will you be talking in?

KP:  Chin Chin.

Me:  Chinese!  You will be learning Chinese.

KP:  Oh yeah, Chinese.

Jack:  Will you only speak Chinese?

KP:  No, I will use this voice AND speak Chinese.

One of the best parts of summer

Our first veggie box of the season made it to our house yesterday. If you don’t belong to a CSA you should, it’s magic in a box every week.

He will blame me for this

I always laugh, KP gets almost everything he hears only half right. Tomorrows blog post will certainly give you a good picture of what I am talking about. But today’s post will show you where he may have gotten it from.

Monday night our whole family was sitting in the bleachers watching CT’s baseball game. It was getting dark and late, the kids were filling up on concession stand crap as a result of soccer and baseball running right through dinner time and into dusk.

PJ left her hot dog wrapper on her seat. I picked it up, crumpled it into a ball and threw it from my seat into to garbage can, since I still couldn’t walk right.

As the foil ball went straight into the can, the following conversation unfolded.

Me: yelling, Oh Yeahhhh…MOOOOONEY SSHHHHHOT!

Adam gives me a startled look.

PJ: Mom, what’s a money shot?

Me: A money shot is when you make it right in, it’s like the best shot you can make.

PJ: I wanna make a money shot. Money shot, money shot, money shot.

Adam: Now starting to shake his head and looking at me mouthing, What are you saying? Honey no, that’s not what it means!

KP: Can I make a money shot mom?

Me: Sure!

KP & PJ: Now chanting, Money shot, money shot, money shot.

Adam proceeds to tell me in a hushed tone that a money shot has more to do with the porn world then with me making the said shot into the garbage can.

As he illuminated my world, I couldn’t stop laughing. How priceless is it that our kids are chanting porn slang at the oh so whole some baseball game.

If you read to the very end of the Wikipedia definition, you will find that I am just about half right, in a very obscure way.

No ticket to Bean Town today

Marathons are funny.

Marathons are hard.

There is a reason it takes people six swings at it before many get the time they need to go to Boston and live the dream.

The weather was perfect.  In fact, it was beautiful.  My head was on straight.  I was feeling good.

The first half of the race we were on pace, if not a touch fast.  21 minutes in, toe number 4 and five both went numb.  54 minutes in, toes number 3 went numb.  Just remained positive and tried to put it behind the door.

Once we hit Fort Snelling and started running around the lake on a dirt path our times slowed.  It was lonely down there, not a lot of spectators and the run was getting tough.   Then you get to run up a 1.5 mile incline back out, this added insult to injury.  The quads started yelling uncle along with T-odd who was telling us we needed to pick it up and there was not alot of time to give away.

Around mile 19 we got a shot in the arm by seeing our families, these things could not be done without them.  My friend Kuan was on his bike and followed us a long bit of the way and Vincent showed up to cheer Laura on.  I was hoping to get a free dinner invitation to Vincent’s, but no luck.

I’m not sure what mile it was that Laura and I knew this wasn’t going to happen, maybe on the slow incline up, 19, 20, who is to say?

My legs started cramping severely during those last 6 miles.  It was not just my quads, but then my calves got into the action and then came another hill.  Where I ran with my feet locked into a flexed position due to cramping…THAT WAS AWESOME.  But guess what, no toe pain OR bunion pain, they all went back to normal.  Or maybe the cramping just over rode it, does it really matter?

It’s at this point where I am saying to myself, it’s not for lack of training, it’s not because I gave up, it’s not because I am not digging deep enough. 

My mantra for the first half was what Adam told me right before I went to bed, “Whatever you do, don’t give-up.”  My mantra for the second half, “Pain is only temporary!”  Over and over and over.  I came to peace with the fact that I was digging as deep as I could today and that will be good enough.

In the end T-odd finished strong, Laura pulled away and worked her magic like only she can.  And then I saw them, the rest of the running group (plus Becca) waiting almost at the top of the last hill.  They ran me in and they cheered me on and without them I am pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it under 4:00 hours. 3 hours, 59 minutes and 46 seconds to be exact.

Still a PR, so I can’t get too upset.

Marathons are funny.

Marathons are hard.

And for me, marathons take a village.  Hats off to you my village.

Thanks for being there, every last one of you:

Adam, PJ, KP, CT, Roxi, Jay, Becca, Nana, Papa, Ted, Lovie, JC, Teddy, Megan, Jen, Erika, Nathan, Sam, Pete, Ann, Elie, Finn, Kuan, T-odd’s mom and sis and Laura and T-odd.

Fuzzy Wuzzy

He is coming as fast as he can to tell his friends to stay away from this kid.  He eats them for breakfast.

Positively thinking my glass is half empty

“The difference between the mile and the marathon is the difference between burning your fingers with a match and being slowly roasted over hot coals.”

Hal Higdon

This Sunday is the Minneapolis marathon. The many miles and many hours of training are now done and gone.

We have done everything we can do to ready our bodies for this race, specifically for the goal we are looking to attain. The goal, 3:45.

What’s with 3:45 you ask? That is the Boston qualifying time for old hags like Laura and I. So, when we turn 40, we can be there with bells on. It doesn’t matter to me that it typically takes people 6 attempts before they hit qualifying time. We’ll just disregard that study.

Like I said, we have readied our bodies. T-odd will be pacing us, holding us up with all his witty banter, keeping the monsters at bay and telling us to stop bitching. Mrs. B will be running too. Our families and running buddies will be there like beacons of hope at the top of the hills and around the most important corners.

My mind on the other hand…that is a different story. It gets real dark in those corners when there is pain.

So I just keep telling myself:
It’s going to hurt.
But I have trained.
My toes will start going numb around mile 5 with a burning tingle and move on to utter agony by mile 13.
But I know it is going to happen.
My bunion will be screaming from the start.
But my hot podiatrist and I have done everything we can for it.
I will be exerting myself and pushing myself harder than I ever have at this distance.
But I gave birth naturally to three kids and still lived to tell the tale.
I will get dizzy and tired and think I can’t go on and want to stop.
But I won’t.
I know all these things and will let them go one at a time as they come up, there will not be any surprises (ok that’s a crock of shit).
We have trained hard.
We have trained well.
We can do this.
We will do this.

YES WE CAN!

Let me hear you say it people…

Put a fork in it

Today marks the day of my Dad’s 12th round of Chemo, the final round. A day to celebrate, be happy, take note that things are going well. His bone scans are better than when he started nine months ago, yet another cause to roar.

It hasn’t been an easy road. Chemo is a drain and the longer it goes on the harder it is to rise back up to its next invitation. But to know that he gets a break is worth a cheer. The thought of a touch more energy…fabulous.

The agony for me is in what lies ahead. The unknown. The monthly visits to the cancer center to see if you are going to get hit in the stomach again. To see what the next course of action is.

But today is a day to put those thoughts away. We must celebrate this day and this moment, for we have made it through this tunnel, all the while watching my Father tell cancer to Fuck Off!

Way to go Dad!

Sweet bunches

Get out there and smell the lilacs before they are all gone!