An Anatomy Lesson a la Carmella

Today as I was driving the kids to gymnastics I told them that I would be running while they had their classes. I reminded them that if I was late they were to STAY IN THE BUILDING and wait for me. I started in on the not talking to strangers and no matter what anyone said they were not go anywhere with anyone but Carmella interrupted me:

"Mommy don't worry," she said "Beau and I have discussed this. If it is a woman we punch her in the stomach and if it is a man we kick him in the shins . . ."

Now it was my turn to interrupt. "Not the shins," I said. "If it is a man you kick him as hard as you can in the nuts and run as far and fast as you can!"

Carmella confused asks "His nuts? Where are a man's nuts?"

Beau and I together answer: "His balls!"

Carmella still has a blank look and blinks her wide brown saucer eyes. So I clarify it for her: "His penis babydoll. You kick him as hard as you can in his penis. Got it?"

"Oh, right," she says getting it. "His shins. Same thing."

Oh my God! This is way better than the time when Carmella was 3 and asked why Beau's bottom was different than hers. I told her that he was a boy and he had a penis and she was a girl and she had a vagina. Then for weeks after wards all she talked about was her "china" and Beau's "peanuts". And no I never corrected her but somehow she figured out all on her own what shins are on a man.

Is it wrong that I immediately wished that I had shin splints as an injury instead of ITBS and I could go around complaining how much my shins hurt? That would really mess with her head! But even better than that it would make this conversation come full circle for Beau.

Ah kids. Even when you're knocked down they give you reasons to get back up and just laugh.

Gift Bags

You know what?

I LOVE that Beau, when asked what he wants to be when he grows up says a vet. Some days he will say a bird doctor but most days he declares his deep passion to someday be a vet and take care of all the animals. I also much prefer his passion to be a vet to his 3 year old aspiration of being a lifeguard and surfer dude.

Carmella also wants to be a vet but her desire to be an artist is stronger.She doesn't think she can have both. Mostly I think she just wants to play with dogs--the other animals she doesn't care so much about.

Beau on the other hand is passionate about all animals. And even though I do get tired of reading encyclopedias on sharks or Arctic animals, or birds instead of real bedtimes stories with a plot and characters, I am proud of his curiosity and eagerness to learn.

I secretly love that Beau and Carmella prefer to watch the Westminster Dog show over cartoons. I'll even admit to finding the conversations such as this completely adorable:


Carmella: Beau, who are you going to marry?
Beau: I don't want to get married.
Carmella: You have to get married if you want to have a pet. How bout Livi-- or Riley?
Beau: Riley, she likes dogs and she has a Boxer. Boxers are my favorite dog, after Huskies.

And even though I don't love to go to the dog park, I'll admit that I think it is incredibly cute and funny that they want to go even if we don't have Lola with us. They actually beg me to take them to the dog park more than they do a place like Monkey Joes or Chuck E. Cheese.

And I love it when they encounter a breed of dog that they have only seen in books and will exclaim excitedly: "My first Yorkie! That is the first real life Yorkie I have seen!"

I wouldn't be surprised if Carmella, somewhere, has a journal listing all the types of dogs they have seen.

But what I do not love is that their passion to be vets has left me with no scotch tape and always searching for a pad of post it notes.

What does scotch tape and post it notes have to do with wanting to be a vet?

Let me give you exhibit A: The Animal Hospital (aka, Beau's top bunk)

(note all the scotch tape on the wall)

In case it isn't clear here is a close up of shark and panda with their scotch tape and post it note bandages.


So you see, this is why if you ever recieve a gift from us it will be in a gift bag (recycled no less). It isn't that I don't have wrapping paper. I don't have tape.

Experiments with Water that Matter

The other day, as the kids and I walked home from school in the rain, Carmella told me she learned about the 3 states of matter in science.

Shakespearian aside: Yes, I am the mean mom who makes her kids walk home from school in the rain. It was only a light drizzly rain and it just kills me to waste time and gas to drive the half mile to the school to sit in the carpool lane. Besides, what kid doesn't like playing in the rain? And Beau and Carmella? Cute as all get out but definitely not made of sugar. So them melting wasn't an issue.

I asked Carmella "So my little genius, what are the 3 states of matter?

Solid, liquid, and gas. Carmella recited with her usual know it all perfection.

Beau said. Yeah, I know that. I know science, he added for emphasis. In case there was ever any question. Beau? Already knows everything.

I said,"So. Let me guess. Did you talk about water?"

She was surprised that I guessed this. Especially since Beau and Carmella pretty much think I am an incompetent idiot but she confirmed what I suspected. And just so you can prepare yourself for what happens in second grade I am going to tell you. They reveal to the children the mystery of water: vapor, ice and swimming pools.

Swimming pools?

Well, Monday I was suppose to meet a group for an open water swim. (See how it is really all about me?) But there was a threat of storms so I didn't want to waste my time and my gas (read 40 minute drive) to potentially not get a workout in. I can always swim at the gym. Better safe than wasting a workout, I always say. So I bailed on the open water swim.

This experiment proved a complete failure.

The pool at the gym was so cloudy I couldn't see the black line. How the hell am I suppose to do flip turns if I have no idea where the wall is? Besides. It is a pool. With chemicals. Why the hell is it so murky? That is just scary. So I did pilates instead. In my book, also known as: complete waste of time. This was the first day in I don't know how long that I did not break a sweat. I was sure I was retaining water as result and I can promise you. As a girl? That is never good.

I should also add: pilates is a complete waste of time that 2 days later my abs are now sore from. How did this happen?

The experiments with water continued on Tuesday. I was further thwarted by the rain. We had tornado warnings and sirens going off and thunder and wind and lightening. I contemplated the treadmill but my heart couldn't do it. The treadmill. It just isn't my happy place. What can I say? I like to be happy when I run. That is just my thing. Others? They like to win. That isn't what motivates me. Happiness and feeling good, that motivates me. My soul is little like that.

So when the storms abated and the tornado warnings expired I headed out in the light rain. And over the course of 10 miles it would rain, then pour, then not rain and then rain again.

Whatever. I got wet. It was warm so the rain was actually nice. But see how running in the rain makes me look all glistening and pretty?

Hideous. I know.

But since I was already wet I went to the gym to try to swim. The pool was still cloudy but at least I could see the wall so it was an improvement. Nothing spectacular but 2000 yds in 35 minutes.

I would say this experiment with water was a moderate success.

Last night I got a text from Steph that she and Doug and Neal were planning to ride 50 miles today. Did I want to come? Yes, I thought, I do. But I needed/had planned to do my week's long run on Wednesday. Besides. I thought. I think it is going to rain. And I? I do not ride my bike in the rain. So I politely declined the invitation.

So I ran today. And it did rain. Not a hard rain but a very persistent and annoying rain. And I did not want to run it but I need to ride my bike this week and I've already swam twice so I had to do my long run today if I wanted to get it in. Ugh. So I made myself do it. But I negotiated it the whole way.

Optimistically I had planned to run 21 miles. I realized pretty early on that I would not be sticking to that plan. Really I only need to run a 2 hour run this week. I had just been greedy in thinking about the 21 miler. I don't need it and my achilles, which have been complaining, certainly don't need it. So I cut out the miles I usually run on the park trails because they were void of other people and mostly because I didn't want to experiment with mud.

While ran I wondered about Steph, Doug and Neal and assumed they bailed on the ride. But bail they did not. You can read about Steph's dangerous experiment with water here.

My experiment with water today was much less exciting and worked out to be quite pedestrian with a little over 16 miles at an 8:32 pace. Not fabulous but whatever. It is in the books. And I think, geez I hope, I am done playing in the rain this week.

But my little scientists are not done playing with water.
After school, Beau -- while I helped Carmella with her math homework -- did some "experiments" at the kitchen sink with a rubber band, a coke bottle and water. Lots and lots of water. I quickly found homework for Beau too.

But then while I folded laundry Carmella decided to "experiment with matter."

I heard the talk about the experiment going on downstairs and heard the freezer opening and closing. The faucet turning off and on. But, you know, I was busy. With laundry. Not paying attention to my children "experimenting with matter."

So tonight when I came downstairs and opened the freezer to get my ice packs so I could ice my Achilles this is what I found:


I really, really hope that it is only water in those Easter eggs. I did over hear my two little scientists discussing syrup. And I really, really hope they were only hypothesizing and speaking in theory only.

Not in a long, long time. As Beau would say a SUPER long time--

Has it happened.

Like since I had Beau has it happened.

Okay, no, that's not true. But definitely not since Beau turned 2 has it happened.
But on Sunday night I got one.

What? A compliment on my children's behavior.

At a restaurant.

No, not a restaurant that is kid friendly. That wouldn't really count now would it?
I am talking about a nice restaurant. An adult restaurant.

And yes, there was absolutely bribing involved.
When we first had Carmella we could go anywhere with her-- and we did. We took her places like the theater for things like the Lion King, the Nutcracker and Radio City Rockettes (at 10 months old no less). Once, in New York--and this is totally Bubbles fault-- I took her to a bar when she was 11 weeks old. That was the same trip I took her to a full on Catholic mass wedding in the city. She was great and slept soundly until we walked outside and there were bagpipe players.

Carmella, as one acquaintance once told me, was a "good baby." I didn't really believe him since she was my first and I thought she was hard.

But now?

Yeah, he was totally right on. Carmella was a good baby. And she is an even better kid. You can take her anywhere and count on her to behave better than you probably will.

But this is not to say that occasionally I would be horrified that Carmella would do something child like and you know make a child like noise but now. . . Looking back?

I know I was being ridiculous.

Because Beau?

Beau has shown me how most children act in public places that they don't want to be in and probably shouldn't be in.

The learning curve with children is a circle you know. The teaching is a shared experience. You, as parents, try to pass on some knowledge to them and in the process you get schooled right back. Again and again you are reminded that you don't know jack. . .

So anyway, back to my story.

Two year olds--in general-- make it impossible to take them anywhere that isn't geared towards kids. And just as Carmella out grew the terrible that is twoness (that was not so terrible after all) Beau turned 2 and, well, his twoness has persisted well past two.

Oh, but now he is 5 and maybe a new light shines on us. Maybe. . .

Sunday night Ryan and I were desperate for some decent food.
See, we love Hilton Head Island. The reasons we love Hilton Head are because it is relatively close to Atlanta (5 hours), the beach is long (unlike the Gulf), the beach is hard sand and you can ride your bikes on it. There are miles and miles of bike paths. There is lots to do besides go to the beach--like ride your bike.
Or have the whole beach to yourself because everyone else gets all chicken shit at a little rain and thunder and vacates. Then you can fly your stunt kite to your ( or your husband's)heart's content.
And you can ride your bike to the forest preserve or the ruins or Harbor town and look at birds and alligators along the way(and forget to bring your camera).

And you can walk on the empty beach at night and it is totally dark and spooky and very cool and it is fun because your kids are scared (Carmella) of the darkness and coolness of the beach at night. And again, you also forget to bring your camera. . .

And, so far, Hilton head has been mostly immune to hurricanes-- compared to other beach areas in South Carolina, Georgia and Florida.

And, speaking of Florida (no offense, I like some parts of Florida too) . . . Hilton Head isn't tacky resort like with huge highways, towering condos and flashy strips malls.

Yes, it has its kitschy tourist like stuff but all beaches have that crap. And it can be annoying with all the Lily Pulitzer (gag) and little girls with giant bows (yes Carmella was a bow head too. Apparently it is what you do to little girl's heads). And the men in their madras and brooks brothers--don't even get me started on the crocs-- but eh, you see that everywhere in the South. The only real fault that I find with Hilton Head is the that for the most part the restaurants are not good.

In fact, I would go so far to say they are as a whole, terrible.

Terrible in all categories--food, price and-- worst dining offense of all-- service.

So not only is every thing way, way over priced it doesn't even taste good and the service is antithetical to service. It is non service.

However, this is not usually a problem for us since when we go to Hilton Head we cook our own meals. But this time it was just a short trip and we stayed at the South Beach Marina Inn. Our suite did not have a full kitchen so we had to go out to eat.

By Sunday I couldn't bear another night of shelling out the bucks for a crappy over priced meal. So I convinced Ryan to go to CQ's.

CQ's is a Hilton Head's anomaly. It is good food and good service and you definitely pay for it. But it isn't that much more than any of the other restaurants in Sea Pines that are decidedly not good.

I won't rave and say this is the best restaurant ever but it has consistently been good the now 4 times I have been there. So that is something.

After a day of biking and hanging out on the beach we dressed and hopped on the Sea Pines trolley to CQ's.I can't tell you how cool it was that we didn't have to drive anywhere for 4 days.

I should point out that Carmella decided she wasn't comfortable riding in the back of the trolley with us so she sat up front by herself. She also held on to the rail the whole ride. And Ryan and Beau and I giggled at her. So typical Carmella. I should also point out that we had the whole trolley to ourselves for the ride to Harbor Town.
Even better.

I took the opportunity to tell the kids (Beau) exactly what sort of behavior I expected out of them. Carmella also offered some tips of her own to him for clarity.

So with the kids threatened within an inch of their lives and promises of special treats for good behavior we went to CQ's.

And while there was a time that I frowned on people who allowed their children to play video games at the table I now understand that they have kids like Beau who can't sit still and that not only do they value their dining experience they also value the other patrons. So needless to say I was quite grateful to Carmella for bringing and let Beau play with her Nintendo. Carmella and Ryan played a cut throat game of tic tac toe. Because while CQ's is definitely more adult than other restaurants on Hilton Head it does not alienate it's main clientele (families) and has a kid menu with little activities (activities which do not interest Beau in the least).

And I should say that there was one other child in restaurant but he looked about 10 and way bored. So this is not a fun restaurant for the kids in general but mine had an okay time and I got a yummy meal.

Oh what did I have?

Well, I had a very delish dirty Grey Goose Martini with blue cheesed stuffed olives and Ryan had a Knob creek bourbon. Ryan had the caviar crustini. And we shared a Kobe short rib appetizer that was just out of this world yummy and then split a wedge salad. I had the lobster pasta with an Oregon Pinot Gris that I can't remember the name of but was really good and Ryan had the venison with a beer (of course). Kids had chicken fingers and were very happy about that.

After we were finished and were waiting for the check an older couple stopped by our table on the way out and said what polite and well behaved children we had. Moi! With well behaved children. Wow.

And the real kicker here, as Camille or Anne or Carrie can attest to is that last year when we were on our girl's trip I made an absolute fool out of myself at CQ's. See that picture under the "I am Nat and this is my blog"?

Well that picture is fake.

I had the waiter pretend to throw me out because I knew I was being such a fool and Carrie snapped a picture of it. So my kids behaved better than me. Which when it comes to Carmella that is more the rule than the exception but Beau still beats me out on number of daily tantrums. And hey, at least I've got that.

We had a great trip and I wish it had been longer.

Here are some other pictures of our long weekend:

Which, BTW--Stoph, Tara-- I don't know what you two are talking about. Stoph, you went skiing and to Kansas (snicker). And Tara haven't you been to the beach 3 times since May? I do not go on vacay all the time. Just as much as I can finagle. Who wouldn't? Really And btw, anyone else wants to take me to the beach I am game. I love the beach, the ocean, the sand, the hauling tons of crap to the beach just to sit there, drink beer, read and watch my kids play. All good. All good. Could do it everyday.
Beau took this picture of Ryan and I. Ugh, them are some drunk eyes I have.:

Ryan with Beau's shark goggles.

Carmella got all brave and had her hair painted.
She doesn't do the face painting thing as Cappy the clown freaks her out.

Unfortunately Beau does love Cappy and she wasn't doing face paint that night so he had t0 settle for hair painted. He was not happy and went back to get more. He tried to convince her to paint his face but she didn't have her stuff with her.

Playing in the ocean.


Beau trying to scare the other people in the water. It was really funny to watch him swim up to them and think he was really going to scare the crap out of them and that they just laughed at him.

Okay, well looking forward to Sunday with BeauPOOLooza and getting some good workouts in this week. I'll try to get around to post all the boring ones I've been doing. Gotten in some good runs, swims and bikes (well not the last 4 days per se but the other times since I last posted). Getting ready and more nervous about the half ironman. . .

PS. Sorry for all the typos and misspelling. Blogger is not being very cooperative in the editing process. I think all the pictures wonks it out and it does funky things. Best I can explain it. Because some of my edits don't go through and it won't let spell check or some of the other "tools" work. Whatever. You get the gist: I went to the beach. It was fun. My kids didn't embaress me too much and I didn't embaress Ryan too much either.

Reiterating Lessons in Redundancy

First word of the lesson is stupid.
The second word is dumb.
And the third?
Aquafit.

Wait, maybe that is should be sub categorized under lessons in oxymoron . . .

So Beau's word du jour is stupid. This is a taboo word-- just like poopy is among the preschool/kindergarten set. Saying it is their equivalent of cussing. For real cuss words or phrases they actually have cute substitutions: tarter sauce, cheese and rice, chicken nuggets, moose etc. But saying stupid and poopy is thrilling for them. Saying it always garners them much attention--both negative and positive.

Me? I try to ignore it. When Carmella went through this stage I just had to tell her using stupid to describe everything was unimaginable and using poopy all the time unseemly. She stopped saying those words.

Beau though only cares about the attention getting part. Being unseemly or unimaginative is inconsequential to him. Being funny is more important. Recently he added dumb to ever so expansive vocabulary. Just so you know it is a vocabulary that only includes 3 adjectives: stupid, dumb and boring.

After yet another morning of waking up to everything being stupid and dumb I intoned my best Charlie Brown's teacher voice and told Beau that it was redundant to say something is both stupid and dumb. Explaining that to use two words that mean the same thing makes him look, well, dumb. I told him he should try to be more creative with his descriptions.

To this Beau told me that I was stupid. And dumb.

And I told him this was his warning: Call me stupid or dumb again and you will be punished in your room.

Of course Beau having to test it muttered, stupid, under his breath.

Off to his room.

Crying, screaming and pleading ensued.

Are you going to be nice? I asked through the door.

Yes!

Are you going to say stupid or dumb again?

No!

Okay, 2 more minutes and you can come out if your room is perfectly clean.

Stupid!

You said stupid. 4 more minutes.

Screaming, toys being thrown around, kicking, everything is stupid, dumb or boring. Rinse and repeat.

I had to let him out because I wanted to swim this morning and my time spent punishing my 4 year old had met its limit. Unlike some, I can't sit around and play super nanny and the naughty chair all day. I's got things to do.

This week has not been my week as far as workouts are concerned. This is especially troubling since I need to get on it because I am officially signed up for the South Carolina Half Ironman at the end of September.

My workouts have been thwarted all week. Various reasons: Sam's out of town (no 5 am running), Ryan coming home late, unavailable sitters, afternoon thunderstorms, melting down children, fever, headache etc. Only on my birthday did I get 2 hours to run--by myself-- but even that kinda sucked since it was 80 degrees by the time I finally got to start my run. Rest of my runs have been with the kids while they ride their bikes. This is okay but they still have to stop a few times during a 6 mile run. I don't usually stop at all unless the run is over 10 miles. Then yesterday my only planned bike ride got rained out and I only did 15 miles of the 40+ I had wanted to.

So I was optimistic about a good swim this morning. Swimming Friday evenings is more like getting a chemical peel than a workout so I try to avoid leaving my swim for Friday evenings. The thought of Aquafit did enter my brain but I thought surely the gym didn't offer Aquafit everyday. Who could possibly want to take that stupid class everyday?

I only had about an hour window since Carmella has her allergy testing appointment at 11 am this morning and the gym nursery doesn't open until 8:00. I wanted to be home by 9:30 so I could shower and get us to the appointment in time. However Beau and I's ongoing battle of wills ate into my time and we didn't make it to the gym until 8:40. I checked the schedule before heading back to the pool. Aquafit 9 am. Argghhh....

So we left. You'd think by now I would know to check the freaking schedule. This is not the first time this has happened.

Talk about stupid.

Dumb.

Oh and don't you know it. Of course when I told Beau we had to leave he wasn't happy and had a fit (not an aquafit, mind you).

Stupid! Dumb! He said.

So now he is again in his room; being punished for saying stupid and dumb.

Stupid is as stupid does . . .
Like stupid like dumb . . .
The best laid plans of stupid and dumb . . .
The stupid leading the dumb (to aquafit) . . .

If it rains again this afternoon I guess I will be getting a chemical peel after all.

You know what they say: If the stupid fits . . .

The Parable of Pink Bear

As a parent you want to help your children not make the same mistakes you have made. You want to ease their way in the world. You know, maybe make life not so hard. Maybe spare them some of those painful life lessons. To do this you might tell them stories of your own painful experiences in hopes that they will relate and learn from the story how to avoid having a similar fate--learning a difficult, painful lesson the hard way.

But sometimes you find, despite your best laid intentions of story-telling that the actually story proves way more interesting and the lesson becomes lost in the telling.

And such is the case with the story of Pink Bear.

Yesterday was a lovely day. While driving home from our bike ride we had the windows down and radio turned up. We were all singing along; the kids in the back were seat dancing too. Then I noticed in the rear view mirror that Beau was holding Husky (his stuffed husky dog) out the window. Now Beau does not have a particular attachment to Husky exclusively. But he does like his little stuffed animals and rotates between Husky, Shushu (teddy), and Cici (Bald Eagle). He always brings one of his stuffed animals with him even though he shows no particular preference to anyone in particular.

Nonetheless I knew that if Husky flew out of his hands it would bring much discord to what had so far been a harmonious day. And with Ryan out of town I desperately needed the harmonious day to persevere for my sanity alone. So I told Beau to stop holding Husky out the window, telling him that he might fly out of his hands and be lost forever. Beau assured me that he was holding on tight, that Husky was most certainly not going to fly away.

I turned off the radio and rolled up the windows and asked them if I had ever told them the story of Pink Bear? No?

Once upon a time when I was a little girl I loved teddy bears. And my most favorite beloved teddy bear was pink bear. Pink bear was, well pink and also had a music box and even though the music box was broken I still adored Pink Bear.

One time Pop and Lala and Justin and I were driving to Grandma's.

Here the kid's interrupt and want to know where was Pookie. Isn't she my sister? Did we leave her home alone? How come she couldn't go to Grandma's with us. Was she bad? And, by the way, where is this Grandma. Is it Grandma Virginia? (Ryan's Grandma) Or is it the first Carmella (my great grandmother)?

I explain that Pookie wasn't born. I was only 4 and Pookie wasn't born until I was 5. And it is a Grandma they never met. She is in heaven, I assured them. Now be quiet and listen.

So on the ride to Grandma's we had the windows down and I was holding Pink Bear out the window.

Beau wants to know what Justin was doing?

What? I don't know. Probably being carsick or drooling. I don't know. That doesn't matter. So I was holding Pink Bear out the window . . .

Beau asks if Justin is Baby Duncan's daddy? And then wants to know if he is my brother?

Carmella tells him that Justin is my brother and is indeed Duncan's--who is their cousin-- daddy. She also tells him that Patric is Daddy's brother and Baby Pat is also their cousin.

Beau nods and adds that Patric is Meme's daddy.

Nooooo. Patric is Meme's husband. Peter is Meme's daddy.

Who is Peter?

Never mind, just be quiet and LISTEN! Please.

Okay, so I was dangling Pink Bear out the window when he was suddenly ripped out my hands by the wind. I screamed and cried and carried on until Pop turned the car around and went and found Pink Bear.

I was so happy to have Pink Bear back and quickly forgot about Pink Bear flying out the window only moments before. Foolishly I held Pink Bear out the window and again Pink Bear was ripped out of my hands. And again I screamed and cried until Pop went back and got Pink Bear.

Pop got Pink Bear back and warned me not hold him out the window again. Saying that he wasn't going back to get him this time if he flew away again. Well, of course I didn't believe Pop so of course I held Pink Bear out the window again. And of course Pink Bear flew out of my hands again. But no matter how much I cried and screamed Pop would not go back and get Pink Bear. Pink Bear was gone forever and I never saw him again.

And kids, that is why you do not hold your stuffed animals out the window. They will fly away and be lost forever because Mommy will not go back and get them.

But Mommy, Carmella interrupts: Why don't we just drive to your Grandma's house and look for Pink Bear. I am sure it is still there.

Ugh, no. Of course Pink Bear is not there. This was like 30-- a long time ago. Besides, I definitely looked when we drove back home and then again the next time we went to visit.

And then Beau said, well you could just go to the store and buy a new Pink Bear. Carmella agreed that this was a good idea. Maybe if I just asked Pop nicely, you know said please, that he would buy me a new Pink Bear.

Ugh, no. Pink Bear was special. You just can't buy another Pink Bear!

Why?

Because.

Then Carmella said that she was pretty sure that Pink Bear was still there. I probably didn't look hard enough.

Ugh, no. You know what, never mind. Forget about Pink Bear. I rolled the windows down, turned back on the radio and watched without comment as Beau held Husky out the window; unconcerned and without consequence.

Some days, as a parent--no matter how hard you try-- you just don't feel like you are explaining things right. Sigh. I guess there are just somethings--no matter what you say or do -- that they will have to learn the old fashioned way; you know, the hard way.

Yasso's got nothing on Carmella

So here I find myself yet again in the taper madness. I know I say it every time but man, I hate the taper. I feel fat and out of sorts. You know, I happen to like my training regime-- okay, no, maybe not the peak training regime. Wait, you know what? Yeah, I do like that. I just don't feel like I've accomplished anything if I don't feel completely dead on my feet. I suppose that might be a tad masochist but I really do like that heavy leg-I-can't-make-quick-movements feeling I get after hardcore workouts. I also like the short but hard workouts that jazz you up. What I don't like is how I feel all sluggish and thick in the head during the taper.

So Chickamauga will be my 4th marathon and even though I've done a dozen half marathons and a triathlon I am still trying to figure out how to taper. I figure eventually I'll hit on the magic formula but until then I continue to struggle through this trial and error taper approach.

Regardless of all that I do know that during the taper-- wait, more specifically, a week out from your A race-- is not the time to try new workouts. But nonetheless I found one. Tried it, did it, whatever. I really can't take credit for it since it wasn't planned; it just sort of happened.

Yesterday I decided since I had 8 days until the marathon squeezing in one last 16 miler wouldn't hurt--might even help. I didn't run it hard, just took it easy and enjoyed myself with an 8:40ish pace.It was a nice run on a nice day.

The kids have been all about their bikes lately so I promised them I would take the to the Greenway trail for a ride after school. I debated riding or running along with them. I decided I should run since I just bought new shoes for the marathon and need to break them in a little. I coerced Lala to come with me despite her complaints of old lady back problems. We took puppy girl Lola too. I figured I could easy jog along with the kids. I was thinking it would be walking with a little running. Not even a workout.

Uhm,. Okay. How come no one told me that when you take the training wheels off your kids' bike they are really fast?

Holy Mother of God did Lala, Lola and I get a workout.

Carmella took off as soon as she hit the trail. I was like what! Wait! I was flat out sprinting to keep up with her. No kidding. Lucky for me Carmella stopped right around the half mile mark. I caught my breath while she graciously waited on Lala and Beau. When they caught up I told Lala that she was on Beau duty. Lala was breathing hard but nodded that she understood.

Then Carmella was off again. I sprinted after her, dragging puppy girl with me. Again Carmella stopped at the half mile mark and waited on me. Once she had Beau and Lala in her sight she was off again. By a mile and half I was dripping in sweat. Carmella in contrast wasn't even breathing heavy. Whose idea was it again to take her training wheels away? Oh right, mine. What the hell was I thinking?

By the time we reached the 2 mile mark Lola was about dead. Carmella waited until Lala and Beau caught up and I handed Lola off to Lala. Puppy girl was dead weight. I've got to get that Husky in shape. She is good for the long but she has no endurance speed.

At the 2 mile we turned back and Carmella continued on with her version of Yasso 800s and I just tried my best to keep up. I was not really planning another speed workout before the race--you know thinking I was good having raced a half marathon 14 days out-- but nevertheless I got one in. And maybe next time if I don't run 16 miles in the morning before Carmella 800's they won't seem so difficult.

So here is how last week worked out:
Sunday: No workout. I had planned a recovery run but decided I needed a full day rest.

Monday: I was really surprised to find myself sore and still tired from (I guess) the half on Saturday. My workout felt really hard. I did my usual 5 mile recovery. Maybe I ran it faster since I brought Lola for all 5 miles. Around the midpoint of the run I tripped and since I have Lola tethered to my waist I went superman like flying and then she drug me through the dirt for a few feet. I was surprised to find that only my pride was hurt. I was dirty and totally embarrassed. Thankfully I was only a spectacle to the cars driving by.
After my run Steph invited me to a swim. Her knee was bothering her so no bitches bike ride. Dissappointing but probably just as well. I did ride my bike to the Aquatic center--not quite 5 miles--to meet her. I am so stupid but I am still trying to figure out how to dress myself for the bike. It was pretty windy and I was hot, then cold, then hot, so I was glad that it was a short, albeit uphill ride. At least, I figured home would be downhill.

We hit the pool and did a 400m warm up and then we did my 10x100's in 2 minutes workout. On paper this workout doesn't seem so hard but it really kicks my ass. The goal is to do a 100 in a minute 30, rest 30 and repeat. Inevitably I blow my wad by doing the first 3-4 100's in a minute 20 and then drag through the next few. By the 6th or 7th 100 I am ready to quit but Steph is totally not a quitter so we got it done. I think all my 100's came in under a minute 30 but they were hard fought. We did a 500 cool down and then got cold and called it a day. Then I rode back home and was very cold. I swear I spent the rest of the day trying to get warm. Yes, I know it was in the 60's.

Tuesday: So sore in the arms and very tired. No workout. At least I don't remember one.

Wednesday: Only had time for a quick 6 miles.

Thursday: Another easy 6 miles after I dropped kids at school. Then Ryan made me go to work with him. I hacked away at shrubbery for a few hours with a machete. Not fun.

Friday: Arms totally sore from machete workout. 16 miles at an 8:40ish pace. 8 Carmella 800's at what felt like faster than 5k pace but admittedly may not have been since I am sure I was tired from the 16 I ran in the morning.

Saturday: Took the kids to ride their bikes again at the Greenway. Carmella and I had a conversation how she was to take it slow. I ran behind her and in front of Beau. We got in just over 4 miles in around 34 minutes. It was nice and easy and I only had to sprint a few times. This jogging along while they ride might be just the ticket. However I feel like crazy mom yelling for my 4 year old to "Pedal Hard! Keep up!" Some people walking on the trail were giving me dirty looks. Whatever. They have no idea that I have spent the last 4 years chasing Beau around.

The Totals:
Run: 41 miles
Bike: 10 miles
Swim: 1900 meters.

It is only easy after you know how . .

Yesterday Ryan and I took the training wheels off the kids bikes. Beau was very excited about this. But, then again, Beau is pretty much excited about everything--at least until he learns more about it. Everything is awesome with Beau until he gets burned. Yeah, it's gonna be a tough life for him--you know, learning everything the hard way. And trust me, I speak from the perch of experience on this one. Been there done that and now I am chicken shit about everything and to which way from last Thursday.

So yeah, we took the training wheels off the kids bikes and Beau was excited and Carmella was most definitely not --and not just because she is, as general rule, suspicious of everything. I swear, she was either poisoned or was a spy in a past life because "trust no one" has pretty been her motto since birth. But you know that might be because I am her mom and really, who can blame her? Anyway, my point is that she was not excited specifically because she clearly recalls 2 years ago when I tried to take her training wheels off. It took all of 10 seconds on the bike and falling over to convince her that uhm, yeah. Mom? I'm not doing that and, by the way, I really don't like bikes and so long as those two little wheels are not attached to that big back wheel I will not be riding a bike. Ever.

Nevertheless, yesterday she did not argue or utter word as we took off her training wheels. I guess she had come to realize that maybe six was getting a bit old for training wheels and decided that she would suck it up. I did hear her trying to warn Beau of what was to come. He did not listen. At all.

Beau watched giddy with excitement as Ryan took his wheels off. He joyously asked if he could have the wheels to play with. Later, he would come to cling onto these in such a pathetic manner that we had to wrench them away and hide them.

Beau tried the bike first. And he fell right over.

We all laughed.

Beau laughed too. Because to Beau being funny pretty much trumps everything else. He may be the biggest pain in the ass ever but I gotta say the kid knows how to laugh at himself and that makes him completely charming. However Beau's ability to laugh at himself was pretty much shot after he found out that, seriously; we are not putting the training wheels back on. Then he didn't think that was so funny. At all.

And then instantly he was no longer so excited.

And that pretty much sucked for everyone because Beau is really good at throwing a tantrum. Apparently the same gene that allows him and the world to laugh with him also carries a similar trait of suffer and the world must suffer with you. So while the world may not stop or even give a rat's ass that Beau is upset; Beau does make it pretty damn miserable to be on the same planet when he is not the one laughing. So we did what we always do when we reach that point with Beau: lock him in his room.

Next it was Carmella's turn to try her bike. She had a little more success but was quickly frustrated and done trying. So when Carmella started melting Ryan lost his patience and sent her to her room too. And for the record we almost never have to punish Carmella but even on the rare occasions that we do she just sucks it up and sits there. Ryan told both kids they could stay in their rooms until they adjusted their attitudes.

After awhile I went in and we all had a discussion about how everything is hard the first time and then it does get easier. I explained to them that all we were asking is that they try. And if after a few days of trying to ride without training wheels and that if they still couldn't get it after giving it a try that Daddy would put the training wheels back on their bikes. I told them that I thought with just a little hard work they would get it and then it would be easy and they could be faster and riding a bike would be even more fun.

Carmella listened.

Beau did not and commenced the tantrum of the training wheels. This earned him more time in his room to adjust his attitude in the correct direction.

Carmella and I went out and worked on it.

Eventually Beau came out too.

All afternoon Ryan and I alternated between teaching them how to ride bikes and watching them lose their shit over not being able to do it. Carmella, on the few instances when we were trying to persuade Beau to give it another chance, went in the backyard and practiced in secret. She use to do this as a baby--not in the backyard but in her room when she was suppose to be taking a nap, which by the way she never did. With Carmella it went like this: we would be at playgroup and would reach the point in playgroup where all the mommies showed off their genius kid tricks. Whenever it was my turn Carmella would just blink and look at me like she had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I quit participating in the genius kid tricks until Beau came along--who was always willing to perform-- but then those were more in line with the stupid pet tricks. Anway, after playgroup and while she was suppose to be napping I would hear her in her room ordering her doll Bobby to do all the genius kid tricks I had wanted her to do at playgroup that day: Bobby say Daddy. Daddy! Okay, Bobby now clap your hands. Clap! See, even at a year old she thought I was an idiot. I may not be as smart as her but I can tell when I am being patronized.

Beau, on the other hand--who does absolutely nothing without an audience-- did not practice in secret. Instead he went and found his tricycle, saying he did not love his Bee bike anymore. But after a few spins on the "baby bike" he begged for his training wheels.

The rest of the afternoon we focused on Carmella and ignored Beau. A few times he did try the bike but would say he was scared and quit. But his quitting and failure only encouraged Carmella. After several hours in the driveway and cul-du-sac I suggested we drive up to the school and practice on the track. I also innocently suggested that we make a "movie" of the event. This quickly proved to be the absolutely most wrong idea ever to suggest to Carmella. Because the frustrated six year old learning to ride a bike instantly morphed into the frustrated diva actor/film maker.

No performance was the right performance. A million "do-overs" were necessary. She pounded her fists, cursed her bike--yelling things like "my bike is controling me!" and this is "all too hard!" And that she "just wanted to make a movie!" And even after it was clear that she had the hang of riding her bike she would not be satisfied until she made a perfect loop around the track. And even when we thought the loop perfect she did not deem it so. We finally left her on the track and waited by the car until she got the hint.

So here a few of the 20 or so clips I took. There were more but she made me delete them on the spot.
Take 1:

Let's try this again:


Again:


And again:



Getting better--"I can't get back on the road! The bike is controling me!":



Success!






And, by the way, all her hard work did pay off. After only one afternoon she is totally proficient. She even rode her bike to school today. Of course this was the biggest we are never doing this again ever mistake. Between Beau and his training wheels, me pushing him up the hill and keeping him out of the street, Lola tangling herself in Beau's bike or around my legs and thus tripping me and all while I scream at Carmella to slow down and wait for us--well, let's just say that is a little more parenting that I care to do before 7:30 in the morning. Not to mention walking proves faster.

Friday Night at my House

Ryan and I just had this exchange:

R: Guess what we (he and the kids) are watching?

Me: What?

R: Austin Powers. (rolling his eyes)They totally don't get it.

Me: Really? That is surprising since Beau has been studying Ecology and Carmella has been reading from my Norton Anthology of Postmodern Poetry today. I totally thought they were high brow enough to get Austin Powers.

R: No. Carmella keeps saying "Daddy. His tummy is really hairy. Gross." And: " Look at her. She has really big boobies." And I'm like, yeah, that's what I'm thinking. And Beau says " Yeah! Baby!."

Me: Uhm, yeah. I think they get it.

Sick Day

No, not me. I am still well. But when you are mom and your kid is sick you might as well be sick too. This is why I don't like to rest when I am sick.

But damn. Does this phlegm have an end?

I have had the kids on a strict regime of Claritin since I first got sick. I ran out the other day so I guess all it took was a few missed days and phlegm made its move on Beau. Carmella is still in the clear. But really, she is the better patient.

Beau sick is like me sick. He pretty much has to be totally lethargic to recognize that he may not feeling so great. Therefore he is hard put to accept his fate as a sickie. There is no wanting to lay around and just chill and watch TV. So you see, really I am just keeping him home to spare myself the lecture from his teacher. Because neither me nor him want him to miss school.

See yesterday at school when I picked him up his teacher said he was coughing really bad but she thought part of it might be dramatics--which I know Beau loves to exaggerate his cough. Because, really? Why bother to cough if doesn't sound like you are trying to throw up your stomach? Or sound like you have been smoking for 60 years. No one would notice-- pay you any attention. And if that is the case, why cough. Why bother?

He did have a little cough on Sunday. It was the first time I heard it. It isn't a deep in the lungs I-pleurisy-sort of cough but more like quarters in throat--you know, post nasal drip, choking-on-the-snot-running-down-the-back-of-your-throat cough. I know it well as I finally got rid of mine last week after what felt like a month of living with it.

I asked Beau where he got this cough and he told me it was from Tarak--a friend at school. He explained it was from when Tarak was choking him last Wednesday. I told him you don't get a cough because someone chokes you--especially 5 days afterwards. I mean, if you are going to get a cough from someone choking you it is going to happen immediately. Duh!

But more importantly, I told him: What I want to know is why Tarak was choking you and why this is the first I am hearing about it? Did you tell your teacher?

No. We were playing a choking game!

Oh okay! That's great! Hey, Beau?

Yeah?

Let's not play the choke game anymore--you know, just like we don't play the pee on each other game anymore. Okay?

Okey dokey Mommy.

Sheesh. Boys. The surprises never end for me and the seemingly obvious things I have to tell him not to do boggle me daily.

So anyway, Beau last night had a little fever--barely hundred but he looked sick in the eyes--heavy lidded, red rimmed, tired. So no school today. But apparently some Motrin, Sudafed and Claritin has been the miracle cure for him that it wasn't for me as he is much better this morning. However I still kept him home in case the fever came back. It hasn't. And even though 100 hardly registers as a fever I can't risk sending Beau to school who when healthy canbe the problem child. I can only imagine the talk I would get.

Carmella and I tried to sneak around him this morning so he would sleep in. My plan was to wake him and throw clothes on him right before I had to take Carmella to school as I had to go in to help her carry her project.

Which okay, quick aside, my kids have way too much homework. They are 4 and 6 and they have more homework than I did in high school. Well, at least more homework than I actually remember doing. Did you see that? See what I wrote. No, not the part about me not doing homework. Who cares. The part about Beau. Beau? Who is 4. Has homework. Several times a week-- and projects too.

And did I mention all the reading they want us to do with them? I think reading is great! I mean seriously, who thinks literacy is a bad thing? But do you people have any idea what a pain Beau is to read to? Sitting still? Listening? Not beating the crap out of Mommy while she reads out loud? All very challenging for Beau.
And then there are his book choices. . .

Yesterday we went to the library to get books for Carmella's project (research, at 6!). And they both got to pick out books --Carmella to read to herself or with my help and Beau for me to read to.

Carmella picks normal story books, easy grade 1 and 2 readers etc. Books like Mouse Soup and Pish and Posh and Lulu and the Witch Baby

Beau though.

I try to steer him towards picture books about dinosaurs and trucks but no. Beau goes to the nonfiction juvenile section and picks fabulously technical books on insects, ecology, weather and dinosaurs. Books that have hypothesis and theory in the first paragraph. Books with giant pictures of the creepiest insects. Books with diagrams and charts. I mean it is great that he has an interest, you know, in ecology. But I just think it a little too high brow for a 4 year old and much too boring for mommy to want to read. Not to mention, I don't care so much about what the world's ugliest bugs look like. The ordinaray run of the mill bugs give me the heebie jeebies. I don't need to see the ugliest ones to get the creepy crawlies.

But Beau's reading choices and homework pale in comparison to Carmella's homework. Really, what I think is going on is retribution for me having not done my homework as a kid. I thought I had gotten away with it. But you know what? Now I definitely do not regret not doing homework because as parent? I get to do it again. So unlike some of you other suckers I only have to do it once-- or until they are old enough that they surpass my knowledge and will no longer require my help. Wait. Okay, seriously, who are we kidding? Like that is ever going happen. What, with my superior intelligence? I'll totally be writing and compling their PhD's.

But, yeah, in case you were wondering. Homework still sucks.

Oh, my point. Okay, really, my whine. Beau is home sick today. And after an hour and half of arguing, flailing on the floor and begging me to take him to school Beau finally agreed that he is sick. This was of course after I pulled out the play dough. See I never pull out the play dough. I hate it. I try to hide it but they always find it and beg to play with it. So I reserve it for when I am desperate for them to be compliant. I hate play dough because they make the biggest mess and it is too much of mess for them to handle cleaning up on their own. And I have to clean up enough messes around here that I am really not inclined to welcome any more.

But today play dough was the only thing that made him stop crying about having to stay home so I got it out. I tried to make it so he would be neat about it giving him paper plates and only gave him a few tools and a couple of colors. But the plates remained untouched and he went and found the other colors, tools and even dug out my cookie cutters. I don't care though.

Because for almost 2 hours this morning Beau happily married all the play dough colors and made "poopy" and scary bugs and monsters with it. And anything that occupies Beau for 2 hours and doesn't involve him getting hurt or doing permanent damage can only be a good thing.

The magic ended though when I told him I thought it was time to clean up. He asked me, "Why? Are we going Taco Mac?"

Huh? What? Why would you think that? You are sick. We have to stay home.

Immediately he abandoned play dough in optimism that we were going somewhere and upon finding out that we were definitely not going anywhere the whining commenced. And it has not stopped. For one single second. About all the places he wants to go: Lala's, Meme's, Chase's house, Monkey Joes, the pool, the bank, the accountant, grocery store, just anywhere, please, but here. . .

I should have just kept my mouth shut.

Anyway, I suppose-- if I must search for a silver lining-- a sick day is probably just as well. In the past I would get all frustrated when my workout plans got waylaid. But really today I should probably rest. I've been going at it everyday since last Wednesday when I finally started feeling better.

Today was suppose to be a bike day with Steph. I missed Monday because of a flat tire. Roswell Bikes fixed it and Lance right up. So I am bummed I haven't gotten to ride this week. But I guess if anything has to go or be skipped the bike or the swim would be it.

And now I am thinking-- since I am having a forced rest day-- that I might move my planned 24 miler up to tomorrow rather than wait until Friday. Just go ahead and get it done, you know. . .

Truthfully though? I am having long run anxiety. 24 solo miles is somewhat tortuous and quite lonely and it is hard to psyche myself up for it. I really don't want to do it and I waiver a bit; trying my hardest to ignore the voice in my head that says just do a few more 20 milers. But I know from experience doing 24 will mean I will have a better marathon. And I will gladly take sucky lonely runs in training if I can trade it for a triumphant race.

On perpetuating this mortal coil

Not shuffling off, mind you.

See me rolling my eyes at Hamlet? Whining, melancholy, tragic hero that he is. He knows nothing of Denmark or what is rotten in it.

And to be or not to be is not the damn question when you are a parent. More accurately it is to sleep? Ah, perchance to dream . . .

And the answer?

Not fucking likely ever again.

And yes this post should scare the bejesus out of any would be, or current, yet hopeful, parents of infants that sleep will once again play a role in your life. Well, it might if you are the husband but then again you probably won't be getting laid because your wife will hate you so much for snoring blissfully beside her while she does not sleep. So yeah, a good night rest is not really in your future either.

Hold on. Crap, I just burnt Carmella's toast. Good news is the smoke detector works!

Sorry, had to make more toast as she refused hockey puck toast. Gotta blog here and there while I half ass parent and do housewifely things you know. So anyway, the subject of parental sleep deprivation? Just like those black toes are a runner's badge of honor so is the ability to function on no sleep is a parent's.

Right after I had Carmella I got all these wonderful, well-meaning cards that said cleverly funny things like: Don't worry you'll sleep again . . . someday! Not! or you'll get use to never sleeping. . .

At the time I was completely puzzled over these statements of sleeplessness because I was getting more sleep than when I had when I was pregnant. I really felt well rested, I mean for a new mother. I was getting at least 3 straight hours of sleep not the 30 minutes I had been getting because I had to pee that often when I was pregnant.

And while Carmella was always a terrible napper she always slept great at night. So I totally missed out on putting that "sleep when the baby sleeps" advice in practice during the day. Beau was an even better sleeper. It was like he invented sleeping and eating he did those things so marvelously well. But I missed out the napping in the day with him too since I still had Carmella who most definitely was not taking any naps now that she was 2.

All that by no means is to say that either of my kids were one of those mythological babies who slept through the night right from birth; but they did sleep for 3 hours and then by a month old were going for 6 straight hours at night. And then by the time they were 3 months old they went 8 hours. By 6 months old they both slept for 12 straight blissful hours at night. Sure there were the occasional bumps in the road of sleepless nights here and there from teething, night terrors or sickness but by and large I have found out that we are the exception at having kids who consistently sleep well through the night. I'm not kidding I have friends with 6 year olds who apparently do not regularly sleep through the night.

Before you think that for one second I am bragging let me quickly get to my point. You see, I don't sleep through the night so it totally doesn't matter that my kids do. So for all my being blessed with kids who go to bed and sleep at night without issue still hasn't allowed me to get a good night's rest. Why? Because I hear everything. Being a parent has turned me into the lightest sleeper ever. See, now I finally get what they were saying in those wonderful, well-meaning cards. And here is yet again another instance of my smugness coming to bite me in the ass and humble me. Please, take my advice, anytime you find yourself in the middle of smug moment as a parent close your eyes as hard as you can and wish it away because if you don't you will be getting yours in spades. Parental karma. It is real and it will happen. Be humble, be very very humble.

So back to my point, if my kids get up in the middle night I know it before they do. Every cough, sniffle, turn in bed-- I hear. Heck I even wake up when Lola stirs and wait, all tense, to see if she is going to whine to go out. Ryan never hears anything-- even on the rare occasions when the kids come in our room. Even last night he didn't wake from Carmella and I's lengthy conversation about ear bugs at 2 in the morning.

I woke when I heard her whine. Then I heard her feet hit the floor and come padding in my room. Then she is standing by my bed. Whenever she comes in our room in the middle of the night she never says anything. She just stands there and waits for me to say something. (the kids never go to Ryan's side of the bed.) Even though I am trying really hard to fake asleep she seems to know that I am not asleep and is waiting for me to say something. So I do:

Me: What's wrong Carmella?

Carmella: I had a bad dream.

Me: About what?

And here I think she says a scary chicken.

Me: A scary chicken? What did it do?

And here I think she says no, not a chicken, a donkey.

Me: Okay, a scary donkey. What happened?

Carmella: No not a donkey! An ear bug.

Me: Oh. Well what happened?

Carmella: Are they real?

Me: What? Ear bugs? No absolutely not! Totally made up.

Carmella: I saw an ear bug in my book at school. Here I remember that they are learning about insects. Recalling earlier in the week Carmella's princess ant. Fucking kindergarten teaching them shit. Making them all smart so I can't just lie and make stuff up anymore. I am so screwed.

Me: Right, those ear bugs. Well they are nothing to worry about go back to bed.

Carmella: But can it happen?

Me:What?

Carmella: Can they get in your ears?

Me: Only if you live in Africa. Never go to Africa and you will be fine.Surely they haven't learned about Africa yet and I can still use this one.

Carmella: Oh, but not here in the United States? Crap she knows this is geographically related.

Me (worried now that this is going to take another turn): Right, not in the United States and definitely not in Georgia. Now go to bed and you are not allowed to get up until the sun is up in your room and mine. Remember, we sleep until the sun is up on Saturdays.

And she shuffles back into her room. And Ryan snores on beside me.


Last week it was Beau that woke me. Beau talks in his sleep so he pretty much wakes me up every night. But at this point I ignore the screaming demands for "Mama! I want a peanut butter sandwich! or " I want my Batman shirt now!". I figure if he is up and it is important he will come in my room.

So the other night when I heard him scream out "I want to kiss you!" I assumed he was talking in his sleep again. But his demand to kiss me persisted and I told him to come give me a kiss. And he said "Oh, okay." I was happy that the idea of getting out bed hadn't occurred to him and he waited for permission.

He padded into our room dragging Blue (his blanket--he is the quintessential Linus) and kissed my leg and went back to his room.

Easy enough, I thought.

Then I heard him: "Aw! Damn it, my light is out. Mama! My light is out!"

Me: So turn it on.

I hear him trying to turn on his light. And then "Aw! Damn it! It is broken!"

Me (determined not to get out of bed because if I get up and walk around there is no hope of going back to sleep.): Sleep without it. Dark is good. Makes you taller.

Beau(starting to whine): I'm scared. It is scary. I want my light.

Me: Just go to sleep. It is all fine. Don't you want to be tall?

Beau: Light! Light! Light!

And then the snoring lump beside me moves and says, "Oh for Christ's sakes!"
And stomps down the hall to Beau's room and turns on his light.

And me? I am smiling as I settle to go back to sleep. I am proud that Beau? When he said "damn it"? Got the d in the first syllable every time. But in my heart I was most thrilled that Ryan? Finally got woken from his peaceful slumber.

Ay! Now, there's the rub.

Daily Shannigans Year to Date

Mommy 2, Kids and Puppy 5,886

This be the Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
--Philip Larkin

Oops, too late.

Okay so if I am doomed to fuck my kids up and they are doomed to be fucked up I might as well have a little fun here and there. Right?

Just say yes.

See Beau there with his arm up? Wanna know why he is looking so pitiful with his arm up?
Well I'll tell you.
And this is an example of how you as a parent can have a little fun in a situation where it may not seem possible that you could have a little fun. This is also where you will see my true genius as a person really shine through.

Beau hurt his toe, you know just knocked against the table--nothing serious. But he fell to pieces over it. I told him to get his arm up quick. He looked at me like what the fuck are you talking about Willis (People, I know Arnold didn't say "fuck" but everybody knows that "Whatchoo" is really slang for "What the fuck".)

So I helped Beau raise his arm and sat him in his chair and told him to keep it up until the pain went it away. I told him it would make the pain go away faster. So he sat there with his arm over his head until the pain went away. See how genius I am? I totally distracted him from the stubbed toe pain and since it isn't terribly comfortable to hold your arm over your head the pain miraculously, and the thus the tears, stop much sooner than they otherwise would.

Okay and the next has to do with Lola. Need a picture for reference? Okay, it has been awhile. She is four months old and I don't have a great one of her because she moves so damn fast. But here she is.
See her on the couch? Yeah that is all Lala's fault(--see how my mum is still fucking me up??) She encouraged Lola to snuggle up on the couch. Now Lola thinks she owns it.

But that isn't what I want to tell you.
A few minutes ago Beau came to me, you know after he finally got his arm down, and told me, very excitedly:
That Lola. Mommy. When she gets bigger? She is going to have PUPPIES!!!!!!!
Really, I said.
YES!!!
No.
No?
No we are going to get her a little operation next week so that won't happen.
Beau, stunned silent, just looks at me for the second time this morning with that What the fuck are you talking about Willis look.

Carmella, over hearing, pipes up: So the puppies won't get out of her?
Me, pausing because I am trying to decide if it is better to explain that the puppies won't be getting in her at all or if it will be more fun to let them think that Lola will have puppies trapped in her for the rest of her life? Thinking, thinking, thinking. . .
Right, so the puppies can't get out.

Carmella, of course looks very disturbed about this but doesn't question it.

Then Beau says he is going to tell Lola and Carmella yells, chasing after Beau: No!Don't! She'll freak out like ice and scream.

And so then I sent them off to school with the new found wisdom that you have to put your arm up and hold it over your head whenever you get hurt and that their puppy? When she gets bigger? Will have puppies inside of her forever.
Mwhahahahahaha
Oh shut up. Common sense and seventh grade science will eventually set them straight. Until then though I am having my fun.
And yes, I know this will somehow come back to bite me in the ass.

Super kid

Last night Carmella woke up crying 2 hours after she went to bed. She said her ear hurt really really bad. I felt her head--no fever. I was puzzled but gave her a decongestant and some Motrin just in case.

She had been a little sick over the weekend--a little cold but that didn't stop her from going to Monkey Joe's on Sunday and playing outside for a few hours and then school all week and a 2 mile run on Tuesday and dance class on Wednesday. Only indication I had that she has felt a little off was on Saturday morning when Lala and Pop took her on a hike and she asked to go home before they finished the 3 mile loop. But after some lunch she rallied.

So anyway, I knew it was possible for her to have an ear infection since she has had a cold but I doubted it--especially since all things seemed normal and she didn't have any fever and has only had an ear infection one other time and that was when she got 6 teeth at once and also had a cold.

This morning when she woke up she said her ear didn't hurt anymore but she could hear a voice in her head.

Whose voice? I asked, thinking great, now an ear ache has led to schizophrenia-- or maybe it is a tumor and she is hallucinating.

My voice, she answers.

Hmm, well that isn't schizophrenia, I decide. So I ask her what her voice is saying.

Whatever I say, she explains.

Oh, I see. So it is an echo?

Yes. An echo.

But it doesn't hurt?

No, not anymore.

I worry, briefly, maybe her eardrum burst. Admittedly, I have very little experience with ear infections since Carmella has only had the one and Beau's had 2 and all that was almost 3 years ago. Not to mention I don't ever recall having one myself. So I really don't know what any of it means. I don't really know what to look for. But, you know, of course my thoughts leap to the extremes of burst ear drum, tumor, mental disorders-- or that she is faking, making it all up for attention.

Do you need to go to the doctor? I ask her, still trying to determine if she is faking because she just doesn't seem sick or in pain.

Yes. But not the hospital.

So I call the doctor and get an 8:45 am appointment. I figure if she is fine I can still take her to school after. So we go to the doctor and the doctor looks in her ear and says she has an infection. In both ears. One really bad--bulging, red and pus filled-- the doctor says. Again, we ask Carmella if it hurts. No, there is just an echo, she says.

Then doctor listens to her chest and decides she probably has pneumonia too.

What?!!!!!

Go get a chest xray, she tells us.

So we go and I think it wasn't even 2 weeks ago I was here with Beau. What the hell? My kids who haven't been sick all year both get pneumonia within 2 weeks of each other?

So Carmella's xrays end up looking fine but the doctor hears "crackling" and "wheezing." So we get an antibiotic. Carmella is spared the torture of having blood drawn and is totally bored by the whole experience. She just keeps asking me what she can have for a snack, for lunch and when can we go home so she can color and look at her books.

How in the hell am I suppose to tell if she is ever sick if it doesn't even phase her to have 2 ear infections and pneumonia? There is no telling all those other times she was sick and I didn't know it.

I thought I had keen Mommy radar but maybe not after all.

She keeps asking me what we are going to do today-- are going here, or there? And I keep saying nothing, nowhere, no, we are staying home. To which she answers, Oh yeah, because I am sick.
Right.