Not the typical dinner with the in-laws

So Ryan ditched me last weekend to go fishing and MILF oogling in Seaside, FL with his buddies from high school. And for those guys the weekend started Thursday morning. For some reason when I went on my girl's trip the weekend started on Friday.
Yeah, I feel a bit shafted but that isn't what this post is about.


Anyway, this left me alone with the babies all weekend. Let me be more specific-- this left me alone with my children-- one of whom I am in the process of potty training. For those that have potty trained a child surely you remember how much the beginning stages of it sucked. Again, that isn't what this post is about either. I'll be kind and spare you the gory potty training details.

This post is about dinner at the in-laws. Saturday, my mother-in-law, Bubbles, graciously invited me over for dinner--along with the rest of the six pack, Lois (Steph's mom) and Joe and Donna (Steph's brother and sister in law) and all the kids: Carmella, Beau, Livi, Max and Julia.

And, that my friends, with the mousehead on his forehead, is Poppy, the other host of the fabulous dinner party. He is also the other half of the fun couple Bubbles and Poppy. Together they are also known as the parents of my husband, grandparents to my children or those that bring champagne to all events-- even baby showers and children birthdays. Great, no make that, AWESOME couple. (PS. Remember this when you redo your will, k?)

I could tell though that Bubbles had high hopes for an elegant evening. The table was beautifully set, the food wonderfully perpared, the drinks delicious, the wine hand picked from our trip to Napa . . . But, you know, by this point, really, she should know what she is getting into when she invites this crowd to dinner. Sure she may have wanted and planned for an uber sophisticated evening with friends and family but I think she should have thought more carefully about her guest list.

The good news is that I had fun, the kids had fun and I think, everyone had fun. Dinner was amazing.

Afterwards we played our favorite game--Loaded Questions. Except, we didn't exactly have the game with us and no one could be persuaded to go out and buy it. So instead we made up our own questions and played our own version of Loaded Questions.


You know Bubbles, really, what is a broken wine glass? A borrowed shirt? Two drunk daughter in laws and some unruly kids trashing your house? What is any of it when you consider the memories and the fun of such an evening. Doesn't your heart just feel fuller, your soul enriched? Doesn't it?

Here are some more pictures.


While I'm at it, for the uninterested . . .
Weekly log: 34 miles
Man oh man did this week ever suck. With the heat index everyday near 100 and the bad air code orange or red alert I have really struggled. I feel so far away from my training goals. Right now I am plugging away and looking towards the fall when cooler weather arrives. Getting out there and running is a challenge everyday. I'm just getting by with the endorphins. They are keeping me sane.

Items found: bad attitude, apparently.

A Superhero turns 3

My wild boy is 3 today. He is my silly super hero--always laughing and making light of the world.

He has been waiting to be three since he turned 2. I don't know if that was because he couldn't say 2 (he can now) or because he just thought 3 was way cooler than 2. Like Beau, I too have high hopes for the 3's. The 2's are a tough age-- more so for the parent than the 2 year old. Beau has survived because he is so funny and so adorable despite the naughtiness and terribleness that has seemed to define 2 for my kids. Carmella was a gem at 3 but, like Beau, was also terrible at 2, well, not quite so terrible as Beau at 2--just because she has a mellower personality but difficult nonetheless. So I am praying that Beau, like his sister before him, will also turn that corner to 3 and move onto a more agreeable age.
Don't get me wrong, 2 has been fun. Granted, it has been more fun for Beau than me but still fun.
I guess I just have a love-hate relationship with the 2 year old stage. I know that if I weren't the mommy I would definitely think Beau and all his twoness--all those antics that make me crazy on a daily basis--would be much funnier and cuter, you know, if I wasn't the parent. But since I am subjected to the toddler antics 247 and most people only get to experience them in short doses I therefore find them tiresome if not down right annoying at times. However, if I am being honest, I think since Beau has turned 2 I have matched him meltdown for meltdown. Surely, all this is making me a better person too--right???

Sigh, all that said Beau's greatest gift is making everyone laugh-- especially himself. He has the best sense of humor of anyone on the planet. The kid is laughter and even when he is in the throes of a monster tantrum he is making other people laugh (not me and certainly not him and not those crotchety old ladies that can't keep their comments to themselves but everyone else.) And even when he is extremely pissed off all it takes is one silly look, or funny action or making fun of him and he absolutely can't help it and will laugh. He can't stay mad. Being silly is too much fun. The ability to laugh at oneself and to make people laugh is an incredible gift. I think, above all else, the ability to make people laugh is the best trait a person can have. And I hope for Beau's sake that his laughter and his charm stay with him forever.

Beau comes by it naturally. When he was a tiny baby he was early to smile and laugh--much earlier than his sister who is early at everything else. Admittedly, it use to be a bit embarrassing how happy and smiley he was. There he would be in the baby bjorn and he would zero in on some stranger and like some people stare a person down he would smile them down. He attracted everyone's attention and is still doing that. He has an infectious charm. It is impossible to go anywhere with him and not attract attention. As an attention whore myself I love it most of the time. Having a social child is fun and an easy icebreaker. Even Carmella uses him to meet people. But there are those times when you just want to get something done and escape under the radar unnoticed. But I'll, of course, have Beau with me and he will make that impossible. Everywhere we go Beau makes himself known. This is mostly because I have to yell, "Beau! Beau! Come here! Stop that! Where are you?" And even if I didn't have to call after him constantly, he will just go up to people and say proudly in his cave man voice:"Hi! I'm Beau!"

So while I am hoping that 3 will yield a more agreeable kid, I certainly don't want him to have to sacrifice any of that spunk or charm. Gotta take the difficult with the awesome, I guess. I just want him to keep on laughing and keep on making me laugh, that's all.

Happy Birthday Beau! I am so proud of everything you do. I watch in amazement and wonder at the person you are becoming.

Girl's Weekend

I went to Hilton Head Island again last weekend for some R and R. This time it was with my girlfriends. Don't get me wrong, I love to go to the beach with my kids, with Ryan--of course. But that is a different sort of vacation.
This vacation I was only responsible for myself and my fun.
I got to go running both mornings without worrying about leaving Ryan for too long with the kids. I could get in the ocean and body surf and not worry about my kids getting in and being concerned for their safety.
One day, I even slept til 8 am--unheard of for me. I enjoyed nice restaurants and the only person's embarrassing behavior I had to worry about was my own.
Talk about relaxation.
During the day it was great to sit on the beach and not be plagued with anxiety about one of my kids drowning. Nor did I have to raise my voice all weekend, well maybe a few times just to get a word in edgewise. Everyone knows I am a talker but get a couple of girls together who went to college and high school together and you got yourself some chatter.

Here's the thing about old friends that I think is so unbelievably awesome: You'll go through life and you keep in your head your memories and your experiences. They are singular, yours alone. After awhile they start to fade, get a bit fuzzy and over the years you'll forget things-- forget exactly what happened and when and how it all felt. That is you forget until you are with old friends-- those other people who share the same memories and experiences but lived them differently and remember different things--those cute details that you missed or forgot. So those memories/experiences becomes a collective when you hash it all out and you get a completely different perspective on your past, on your personal history. The empty blanks and faded places in your memory are filled in again. And your memory of those experiences becomes richer from the varied perspectives of other people's memory of some shared event.

I don't know if I am explaining it very well or if any of that makes any sense but basically I am just trying to get across that it was nice to remember good times and be reminded of great times that I had forgotten. Not to mention it was some what comforting to find out, that yes, all that really happened; it was not a figment of my imagination; I did not, after all, make it all up. It really happened; those crazy times, those people, that other life-- they were all real. Good stuff.

I am sure a lot of ears were burning this weekend as we recalled what happened and what has happened since. My only regret from this weekend was that it was too short. An extra day would have been perfect. My voice though may not have been able to take it, I am a bit hoarse.

Here are some more pictures from the weekend.

After a lunch at the Sea Pines beach club we made pals with a Sea Pines local, Chuck. He took our picture and insisted on being in a few himself. It seemed, at least what I gathered from his bar friends, that he has a reputation of taking pictures for the tourists.
Me and my running buddy, Steph, relaxing on the beach. We had some issues with getting the umbrella to stay anchored in the sand. Several times Steph sprinted down the beach to chase after it. I did not because then I might have spilled my beer.
Finally a very nice man did some trick and got in the sand for us where it stayed. He and his family had built a 5 hole putt putt course and invited us to play. Lissa and I declined but Camille and Steph took a swing at it. Apparently a sandy windy beach is not ideal conditions to get your putt putt game on.
Us at CQ's. We had an awesome dinner and I highly recommend going to CQ's if ever in Hilton Head.

Steph, Camille, Me and Lissa at Harbor Town enjoying some after dinner mudslides.

Nature Called

And I had to answer.

This, I suppose, is just one of the many bodily tragedies that childbirth can inflict on a woman. And comparatively it is a lesser one. Thankfully, for the most part, I escaped unscathed by the usual badges of childbirth. However, my bladder took a severe beating. And no, I don't have that problem but I do have to tinkle frequently. More specifically, I absolutely cannot run a single step with a bladder anything other than empty. I only have myself to blame though. Running until your 34th week of pregnancy probably isn't the smartest thing to do.

I have found ways to combat this problem. The main one involves peeing about eight hundred times before I start running. This is to insure that there is not a drop of urine anywhere in my obviously much too tiny bladder. I have learned that if I start running immediately after using the restroom my body will start using all that water I drank to hydrate. If I linger, even for a moment (as I foolishly did this morning), my way too efficient kidneys will get right to work and I will inevitably hear that all too familiar and quite uncomfortable call.

Today I heard it. I tried to ignore it, pretend I wasn't home. Unlike men, and maybe even other women runners, I just can't ignore it. Maybe it is because I terribly abused my bladder while pregnant, maybe it is because I ran too soon after giving birth but whatever the reason I cannot run if I feel that urge. At all. I can hold it but I can't run and just pretend it isn't there. So, I either have to stop and walk to a restroom or back home or, my least favorite, make nice with a tree and pop a squat.

This morning I wasn't even halfway into my current regular 7 mile run when the urge hit me. This particular run is a loop through almost entirely residential roads. Certainly, I can adjust the course so that I do go through an area populated by several businesses where potential restrooms abound but then I also have to run longer on a very congested and busy road--absolutely not worth it when we are in the middle of bad air days July. Today though the adjustment wouldn't have mattered because a bathroom was still 2+ miles off--almost as far as it was back home--when the I got that call.

For runs longer than 10 miles I try to situate potential bathroom breaks along the way should the need for a potty arise --CVS and QT have been my saviors on many a long runs. Not to mention they always have clean stocked restrooms and water fountains. For shorter runs though, I just don't usually worry about it because it generally isn't an issue for me.

Unfortunately today it was and understandably I was in quite a pickle since this run is largely made up of multi- million dollar homes--homes that rumor has it are owned by many current and ex-Atlanta Braves or Hawks players. It is not the fact that they are celebrity sports personalities that had me worried but more that they might actually be home since they don't have 9-5 job like regular people. I mean most people get ticked off when dogs use their lawn as a potty. I am guessing that they are even less tolerant of runners. Also, these homes either sit behind giant gates or are on wide expanses of treeless lawns. Camouflaged potty spots are hard to find or hard to get to. But worst of all, in regards to pit stops, my loop is on several well traveled roads. There is rarely a moment when there isn't a car passing by. As you can see all of this makes it kind of hard to pee on the down low.

As I came down the hill I saw it--the perfect potty spot-- nestled behind some Leland cypress and a well crafted stone wall. Sure, I suppose if Mr. Ex NBA was looking out his second story front windows he might have a nice view of my ass but it was worth the risk. So I ducked back there quickly when there was a rare break in the traffic and relieved myself. Yeah, it was embarrassing but only the potential of it since I didn't get caught--that I know of. And, best of all, I felt so much better and was able to finish my run much more comfortably.

Last week's running log:
Mileage: 33 miles
Items found: a great beach weekend with the girls

The Drs Carmella and Beau operate on Batman

Yesterday, while Beau napped, Carmella entertained herself by dressing Batman up in a tutu, fairy wings, a pink feather boa and a princess crown. When Beau woke from his nap to find his superhero emasculated he understandably burst into tears. Batman's gender was quickly restored by Beau literally giving the shirt off his back and finding some trousers in his drawers.

The pink feather boa, however, remained and a party hat was added.

After all this dressing, they, of course, insisted on taking Batman with to the gym. Something must have gone terribly awry in the gym nursery because on the way home Carmella declared that Batman needed surgery and she must operate immediately. Lala, who was with us, quickly agreed to assist. When I asked what exactly was wrong with Batman, Carmella impatiently explained that he was terribly sick and very bored. Only an operation could save him.

Carmella prepped the patient for surgery and ordered Lala and Beau to get ready to operate. Before going to get my camera I did see Beau "scrub in". His technique is nothing less of cutting edge--spitting in his hands and rubbing them together. If that isn't sterile I don't know what is.

Here are the exclusive pictures from the surgery(please note the "surgical masks"):


The surgery had to be halted so that the surgeons could have a bath and some dinner but immediately tended to their patient after they and their plates were clean.

Sadly though it was all to no avail.
Carmella declared Batman dead and that there was nothing more she could do.

Today, even though Batman is supposedly dead, he has been hanging with the kids a la Weekend at Bernies. They have insisted on taking him everywhere--even the gym--the scene of his demise.
Not sure when or if there will be a funeral but I'll let you know if there is one.