Happy 3rd Birthday, Natasha!

My girl turned three on April 22. We had her birthday party on the weekend and the Betz's came over with the Gilmer's making an appearance on web cam. Gotta love modern technology.

Natasha is still at the age where she's not quite sure what to ask for on her birthday. When the question was posed the response was always "brownies". Though I could have gotten off easy, I decided to get her something that I knew she would love. My little gal. She's a huge Yoga girl. Does her Yoga kids tape every day.



Here's my lass:

4 kids

Our daycare provider has been taking one Friday off per month. To attenuate the inconvenience of this, Cole & Kaden's mom and I take turns caring for all four kids.

Today was my day.

It wasn't too bad, really. Adam and Cole are best friends of the permanently-glued kind. They rarely disagree on anything and wear each other out nicely. Kaden is not yet two, so he just kind of wanders around crawling on things he shouldn't. He only needs the occasional shepherding back to his boundaries. Natasha is somewhere between the two, oscillating between playing rough with the bigger boys, hugging Kaden, and being mommy's helper.

I do however, earn the right to vent. Not only is Natasha still experiencing diarrhea, but so is Kaden. Between the two I changed 6 poopy diapers.

To keep on topic, the conversational highlight of the day was when the following dialog took place:

Adam: "Peek-a-butt!"
Natasha: (uproarious laughter)
Adam: "Ha! Ha! Peek-a-butt, Tasha! Like this Butt!" (pointing to his ba-dunka-dunk-dunk)
Natasha: (more laughter)
Adam: "Man, that's a good one. I'm going to have to remember that."

Oh, and as an aside: I think I might not have the most stubborn 4 1/2 year old on the planet! Cole is a very good child, but he's less receptive to my persuasive techniques than Adam.

Language Instincts

I have had a few funny conversations with Adam lately that are illustrative of just how much this kid never fails to surprise me with his verbal acumen.

One conversation:

Me: "Adam, do you feel ok today?"
Him: (all of 4 1/2): "Why do you ask, mom?"

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Another
Jason: "Do you like that pizza, buddy?"
Adam: "I quite believe I do!"

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A few weeks ago we were reading the Night Before Christmas (yeah, we need to put it away) and I got to the part "Then I ran to the window and threw up the sash!"

A few minutes (and pages) later he asks, "what's a sash?"...so I explained what it was and moved on. He then says "he threw it up?" and I failed to catch on to the path of logic this was following.

He rescued me..."Oh, you mean threw up like with his arms, I thought you meant threw up like 'blehhhhh!"

I love the literal brains of 4-year olds!

Kneeded: good doctor

And...check.

I finally got in to see the elusive Dr. Barnes today. I was referred to him via last week's appt. The knee ain't doin' much better. Walking to my office from my car every day involves a .6 mile walk (more like a hobble) with elderly Clinic patients angrily shuffling past me as they glare and curse at the fact that I'm making them late for their glaucoma screen.

It's been 5 years, people. This is ridiculous!

As I mentioned before, I thoroughly expected to be told "don't run anymore". Instead, the former doctor for all of the Professional Ohio sports teams ordered my MRI to determine the extent of the damage. He told me that we'll use whatever combination of therapies necessary to get me back into my running program so I can finish the marathon. I probably won't be doing Med City but I think Grandma's might still be a possibility! He mentioned physical therapy, braces, and possibly "injections". I wanted to hug him.

I thanked him for making the effort to help me continue running and that I feared he'd say "don't"...he laughed with me and jokingly said "yeah, just give it up". He got it.

In the meantime he told me to try biking to keep the cardiovascular fitness. If that doesn't work, swimming.

That's a "can do".

Or at least a "will try".

Waaahh!

I can't walk without the aid of heavy doses of Relafen. I HATE not being able to run. I'm going to miss the 20k run this weekend, which means that I am not on track to do my marathon in less than two months.

I'm going to hold off on determining what my secondary goal is going to be until I find out from the musculoskeletal doc what the extent of the injury is. I suspect it's minor and they'll say "don't run", to which I will reply "go to hell" until they decide to do surgery and give me my new roboknee. I just want it fixed forever. Running is not a choice for me.

Stolen Thunder

Ever have those moments when you are going through an intense personal change, and it's so consuming that you are quite certain it could only apply to you? That you are the only person in the world who could have ever felt this way?

Ok, to be fair, I think I've felt that way since I was like...five, and capable of putting words to feelings. But I go through this every few years. While on the precipice of some new adjustment I'm being forced to make I look around me and see everyone utterly content with their lives and wonder why I am the only one that's not completely well adjusted.

Then I stumble upon an article like this and feel embarrassed yet slightly relieved. I'm not the only one, apparently, who goes through these things. It's just that it's not Ok to talk about them. Apparently it's Ok to blog about them. Just that my blog isn't famous, so not many people are listening.

One day, people. One day. You'll all be forced to listen!

"Thrisis"

Injured List

I was supposed to do 14 miles today. Per Dr.'s orders, I am taking the next 9 days off from running.

After my fitness test earlier this week my knee started aching. I didn't pay attention to that and went for a 4-mile run outside. I'm not quite able to judge my pace outdoors yet, so I am confident I overdid it. On a hard, uneven surface no less.

I woke up yesterday with severe knee pain and was unable to walk on it at all so I went to the doc. She felt it's fine to just rest it and take my Relafen (powerful anti-inflammatory). Then I should gently ease back into the running. If the knee doesn't get better then it's to the sports doc/muscular-skeletal specialist. I'm telling you, I think it's time for a robotic knee. This thing has been plaguing me for five years now.

Scientifically Proven: I'm Fat

I've always said there are a few theories about myself I'd prefer to not put to the test. 1) I have a very high IQ, 2) The only thing keeping me from becoming the next American Idol is that I'm just not that interested, and 3) Despite all outward appearances, I am extremely fit.

So I put the third hypothesis to the test today and had a "wellness evaluation". My VO2 max is slightly above average, though not as great as I had expected. My leg strength is in the 85% of women my age, but...I have a lot of belly fat (duh!) and very poor upper arm strength.

I guess I didn't need modern technology and a young man fresh out of college with a bachelor's in kineseology to prove this to me, but I now have the proof.

My only bit of light in this dark cloud of self-discovery is that these are things that can be improved upon. I will finish the marathon this spring. And I will be much more fit.

Last Sunday I finished my longest run ever. 12 miles. 12 boring, painful miles. Tuesday = 4, Wednesday = 6, today was my day off and tomorrow another 4 miles. The great thing is that it's going to be nice enough to run outside tomorrow!

Yay spring!

Subdued

This winter was my 4th in Minnesota. It has been by far the longest, coldest, least humane winter I have ever experienced.

There has been snow on the ground since early December, which means it has been four months since I've been able to gaze upon my yard without seeing any white. The snow itself hasn't been so bad. It's the numerous accompanying annoyances that pick away at you over the course of the long dull winter that eventually wear you down. All these little annoyances are enough to make even the most polite and reserved Minnesotan snap like Diana Ross at an airport security gate. And I'm not reserved, nor am I a native Minnesotan (by my own hedonist standards, I am quite polite, though).

The most recent example of the minor annoyance that almost made me put my fist through our truck window was when we were attempting to get the children in the car the other day. To someone not living in a land with air temperatures below zero, this sounds like an easy task, I know. Certainly not one that could require a well-thought out excuse for the new stitches now holding your fingers onto your hand. But by the time March rolls around in Minnesota, you are pretty damn tired of the 40-minute process of getting your children dressed and strapped into their car seats only to have to de-layer them after your ten minute car ride.

By the time you get all the 14 layers onto the children, you are quite sweaty, running late, and pretty frustrated. So, without the gentle nature that you possess in November, you shove them into the garage to get into the truck. Sensing your impatience they decide to rub against the mud-covered truck resulting in a thick batter of caked on dirt that couldn't be thicker if you had first dipped them in beaten eggs.

Now that the suppressed rage of hating winter is no longer blinding, I can look back and say that the children are not completely to blame. It's hard NOT to touch the truck given that there is a mere 1 inch of space left between the garage wall and the vehicles due to the layers of mud now stuck to it. You see, when it's below 10 f, the carwashes no longer operate. It only takes 2 days of driving on salted, muddy roads to coat your vehicle in a cakey batter of winter. So, we all get a little dirty, no matter how careful we are.

That said, even if there were room in the garage to maneuver past, the kids would still get covered in dirt...I am convinced that there is a direct and provable correlation between how much dirt is on your vehicle and how strongly your children feel compelled to rub against it.

I recorded data for many months and here is my final analysis:

Easter Bunny 2.0

Easter. Spring. Tulips. Bunnies. Peeps. Little girls with golden curls prancing about in their green yard searching for eggs...

Or...

Flu. Snow. Code push requiring husband to work on the weekend. Last minute shopping trips at Target and near fist-fights over the last handful of Cadbury Cremes.

If you ever get the choice, I'd recommend the former.

But spring is quite cruel to us Minnesotans. I remember the first year I moved here, dressing up the best I could as a 6-month pregnant person. It was the hardest I had tried to look decent in a skirt and a pair of heels in...well, 6 months. Of course, the day Easter came, it was approximately 8 degrees outside. All the cute little girls dressed up for church were adorned in beautiful spring dresses. You just couldn't see them underneath their winter-mud-encrusted coats. That's when I learned what all Minnesota women know. You can be tough, or you can be cute. If you want us to be both, then don't expect us to be nice.

But now that my kids are finally old enough to enjoy Easter, I wanted to have a little fun with it. We made elaborate plans for food, friends, family and the instilling of traditions. These were all quickly jettisoned when Adam came home with the flu. The next day it snowed many inches.

These two factors confined me and the kids to a veritable quarantine. Jason still had to work at 6 am on Saturday. By the time afternoon rolled around and I was finally able to buy the egg dye kit, Adam was feeling well enough to get into the spirit of easter. We had fun dying them, but after that, things got tricky.

I explained to Adam that EB (Easter Bunny) would hide the eggs that we had dyed. He didn't appreciate this. See, years prior to this, we spent Easter with Jason's family. His mother isn't fond of leaving eggs out overnight, so we used plastic eggs. Myself? I think a healthy background level of bacteria keeps one from violent reactions to an incidental ingestion of large amounts of same bacteria....it's why I regularly eat things like hot dogs, pizza left out overnight, and sushi. A little egg left out overnight? No big deal. Not yet a nutritionist or biology major, Adam wouldn't, of course appreciate my line of reasoning. I had to work on him at another level. Our ensuing conversation left me exasperated.

Me: "What's the matter with leaving these eggs out overnight, buddy?"

Adam: "The EB brings his own eggs...on one paw, he carries treats and toys, on the other he carries the eggs with candy in them!"

Me: "But EB wrote a letter to me this year and told me that he has SO MANY toys and candy that he doesn't have any room in a bag for any eggs, so he thought we could use our own."

Adam: "Can you give him another bag?"

Me: "Not in time for tonight...he's already doing delivery...?" (running out of excuses at this point)

"How about we write him another letter and next year he can bring us his own eggs..."

Adam: "OK, tomorrow write him a letter and send him a bag for his eggs. Tomorrow we'll just find our own."

So the deal was struck. Next year: plastic eggs. I guess I don't mind giving into a 4-yr old's demands, so long as he has good reasoning and arguing capabilities. Kind of makes a momma proud.

Though, I did learn from another mom, that actually writing letters to EB is so passe. Apparently, he has an e-mail account now!

Week 6 Wrap-Up

I'm 6 weeks into the 16 week training program for my marathon.

I was supposed to do: 4, 5, 4, 11 with no days of working out in between.

I was stupid.

I did: 4 tues, 6 weds, should have rested on thurs but instead I did weights and bike, friday should have been a 4-miler, but my legs gave out on me and I ended up doing 3 miles.

I should have rested Saturday, but instead I thought, "hey! Yoga would be a good thing to do!" so I ran to the 90 minute class. The super-fit bodies on everyone should have given away the fact that this wasn't just stretching.

I really did enjoy the class, but it was the most intense Yoga I've ever done. With the running, I am really good at finding my center and a focal point when external things try their hardest to get in your way (try holding "awkward pose when everyone else around you is falling; it ain't easy!) so there is plenty of crossover between this Yoga and running. It's not about tuning out the pain, it's about focusing on that which will carry you through.

Not surprisingly, my left leg is what gave me the most trouble in the class. Performing any poses that invoked the strength of my left leg was intensely challenging and left me shaking (literally). But I knew this was a good thing; these are the very muscle groups that cause me problems post-run (my motorcycle accident 5 years ago still haunts me)...I figured this Yoga class would be a good solution to my running problems.

Until I tried to run today. Muscles were on fire! I like to believe I've experienced some severe pain in my life. Like the time I fell and broke three ribs. Or the time I was in labor for 30 hrs (and pushed for 3!) or the time I rode my motorcycle with my knee out into Jason's motorcycle, hitting his tailpipe on the knee joint and had to limp for 3 months...Grrr...I am so ready for a robot body.

So, lessons learned: don't work out on planned days off. Stick to 4 days per week. And, also, get more sleep. I managed only 9 hours of sleep in 48 hrs at the end of the week. No wonder all I can think about is snuggling up in in bed.

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Here is a good summary of the 26 poses from our Yoga class. I am considering moving my long run day in order to accommodate this class.

26 Yoga Poses

10 Miles

I finally did it. I finally ran 10 miles (at one time).

Although I am still a giant cow, this is the farthest I have run in one attempt. Even farther than when I weighed 116 lbs and could run an 8:30 mile for 3 miles.

The curious thing is that I thoroughly enjoy running much more than I did when I was skinny and it all came so easy to me. Now, I can't just hammer my way through a run. I have to relax while doing it. That was not a skill I was ready to develop a few years ago. When you are 25, you think you can do anything as fast as you want. When you are 31, you know better (or at least you should).

Just 'cuz you take longer to do it, doesn't mean you can't do it.

So the thing I was supposed to focus on this week according to my training plan, was learning to visualize myself on my best run, or at the end of the marathon in order to have "positive mental tapes" to pull myself through the rough spots. I didn't make my mental tape according to plan, but rather, used what works for me...I always turn to the molecular level, trying to imagine glycolosis, aerobic respiration, CO2/O2 exchange - the crap I try to picture when I'm actually in school and having to learn something difficult.

When that fails, I turn on ESPN and watch college basketball.

Not Hot

Long run was sidelined this week due to illness. A GI issue on Sunday had me out of commission and now I've got a head cold. So does Natasha. So does Adam. Jason: You're next!

Week 5

I'm again training for a marathon. Only this time I'm not in school, so I actually have the time to devote to it.

I'm in the 5th week logging 20-30 miles per week (very, very, very slowly). My longest run yet was 8 miles in the gym. Now that it's finally above zero, I can move my workouts to the great outdoors so I'm using the USATF site to map some routes. We'll see how this whole "running outside" thing goes. I'm a bit of a treadmill lover.

To keep myself inspired, I like to watch shoe commercials. Here are some of my favorites.

Memories...

Thinking of the sandbox at the old house reminded me that I had pictures of the actual event.

I can't believe Adam was ever that young looking!

Who is the smartest? "muh-muh-meee!"

Adam is trying his hardest to learn which letters make which sounds. True to toddler form, he is overapplying one of the first simple rules. He has mastered that the sound that makes "tuh-tuh" is said "Tee" (learned by the following phrase "tuh-tuh-tee!") and "buh-buh" is "Bee"...etc. Unfortunately, according to his logic, the sound "ruh-ruh" is the letter "Reeee!" and "fff-ffff" is "Feee!"

Frankly, I think his logic makes much more sense than does actual English language and/or alphabet. The calculus involved in our language is so complicated.

That Old House

We have been living our new house just a few months short of one year now. We are still growing into it, but we've racked up enough memories in this new space for me to consider it where I belong at the end of the day.

Mind you, I'm not calling it "home".

As someone who was transplanted from Seattle as an adult, I don't know if any place other than Seattle is "home".

As a former military-brat-child, I don't know if I can actually know what "home" is.

Nonetheless, this place, this house we are in, it holds several seasons' worth of memories for us. The children, however, they love to reflect upon the old house. I don't find it terribly surprising that Adam has a long standing narrative of the old house, since he was 3 1/2 when we moved and was very verbal and thus able to discuss with us at length details about our old vs. new house and why we were moving.

Natasha, however, surprised the heck out of me when she recalled taking a bath in the kitchen sink at the old house. We did this when the bathtub was off limits because of the new caulk job we had to do to get the house ready to sell.

So now her new favorite thing is to weave together a narrative of our old house based upon her memories and the stories that Adam recalls. As far as they remember, here are the Betz highlights (in order of popular story request by both Betz kids):

1) The dead bird
About two weeks before we moved, a bird fell out of the tree in front of our house and died. Adam found its carcass. I did not remove it quickly enough causing the old house to be known for many months as "the dead bird house".

2) Bathing in the kitchen sink
Both kids had to do this while the upstairs bathtub was off limits during repair. Neither kid was fond of the standup shower stall in the basement.

3) The big ol' sandbox
The one that daddy and Adam built together. Adam spent many, many, many, many hours in there. Natasha was a mere infant when they built it. I remember looking out our bedroom window upon the two: Adam - thinking he was such a big boy helping as he hammered with his stick on a piece of wood. DH, completey absorbed in his project. I bounced Natasha on my shoulder trying to get her to sleep so I could join the two.

4) Bringing Natasha home
Adam was only a few weeks old when we moved into the old house, so of course, he has no memory of the event. He does, however, vaguely recall when Natasha came home (I think this is only because we have pics of the event and talk about it often). Natasha recalls the event from a third person perspective ("I camed home and Adam was there and I had my nookie");(Nookie is Natasha-speak for pacifier).

5) Riding our bikes to Cheryl's
Cheryl, our daycare provider, lived only blocks from us, which is how I found her. I used to experiment with many modes of transport depending upon the kids' ages. I remember being pregnant with Natasha and taking Adam to daycare. I had him in the backpack on my shoulders, walked Desi on a leash, Natasha bulged in my belly, and I had a new little puppy zipped up in my jacket with her head poking out because it was so cold.

But that's not what Adam and Natasha recall. They remember when Adam would ride his bike to Cheryl's and I would push Natasha in a stroller right behind him. Now we are much too far to get to her house on foot (or bike).

Hair yesterday...gone today...

I cut Natasha's hair. I've been trying to get it all to one length since she was born, but it's all come in at its own crazy pace. She had a mullet for about a year (just naturally business in the front and party in the back, I guess)...We finally gave her a bob with some bangs.

At least we don't have to go through the pain of putting a barrette in every day now.

Before:



After:

Hello. Is there anybody in there?

Please leave a comment if you can hear me.

I have been MIA for over a year now. Tried to do the full time school, work, kids, whatever else thing. It worked for about a year. Then, when we bought the new house, the straw broke the camel's back. Apparently I am the camel.

31 years old? Check.

Nervous breakdown? Check.

School, the piece of my life that is utterly important to me has taken a backburner. It was the only "optional" thing. Turns out, when you become a mom, you are the last on your own list.

I kind of knew this was the case, but I guess I thought I could somehow outrun the cliche.

I cannot.

Ironically, it turns out that I can again run. A lot. Did 5 miles on Sunday. If I don't run, I'm psychotic. It's in my genetic code that I, physiologically, NEED to run. A marathon is on my list of life goals. It only takes a few months to train and I got a few months since I'm not in school, so why not?

I should update this blog about the kids and how great they are and how cute, etc...but if you know me well enough to read this, then I have already updated you in person.

Let this be said: Adam is 4 going on 17. As protective as ever over his younger sister. Loves his movies. Loves to shoot hoops and wants to sign up for basketball. Has all of his planets in the solar system memorized.

Natasha is 2 1/2 and has finally started calling herself "big girl" instead of "the baby". She's got her colors and numbers down. Mommy cut her hair and gave her a bob because she had 100,000 layers of crazy curls. She's still our little daredevil. She got a scooter from St. Nick and, just like she normally does, practiced riding it nonstop until she perfected the art.