Copays and on why Lola will not be getting her operation on Monday

So I had to cancel Lola's operation.
And finally, after $300 in copays and a prescription I have a likely diagnosis.

I spent yesterday from 10 am til 1:30 pm with Beau at the doctor's ($30 copay) and then from 2-7:30 pm in the ER at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta ($150).

They think he has bacterial pneumonia.

There is a spot on his chest x-ray that is suspect.
Pnuemonia seems the most likely culprit.


Nonetheless there are cultures that are growing and IV antibiotics that have made a world of difference.


This weekend and yesterday I had tons of stuff going on: Friday at 8 am I was teaching an art lesson on Gustav Klimt to Carmella's class, then Beau and I were to have lunch with her class at 11 and then have cupcakes to celebrate her birthday.
Then I needed to get my house and preparty prep together. Saturday was my 10K race and then in the afternoon Carmella's gymnastic party with 20 of her friends and then at 7:30 a family party at my house to celebrate Carmella's 6th and my sister's 30th birthdays. Max and Livi were going to spend the night as a special treat for Carmella and Beau and as a favor for Dee Dee and Steph. Sunday, blissfully, nothing. Still holding out hope for Sunday coming through for me--everything else, but that art lesson, had to be canceled--Lala did bring Carmella the cupcakes and have lunch with her class in my place. Carmella seemed okay about that but I feel guilty.

Kudos to Carmella for being so understanding. How awesome is she?

I had to cancel everything. I totally feel terrible about it for Carmella. We did have a little party--cake, pizza and movies here at home for her tonight. We are going to have her big 6 shebang next weekend--assuming everyone stays healthy.

Yesterday morning we had to get up extra early to leave the house by 7am. Beau was fine--his usual, crazy self: Ate all his breakfast, fought with Lola, tied her leash in knots around the kitchen table and then threaded another leash between her crate and his pirate ship in the playroom. He refused to a wear coat because he was wearing his very cool batman shirt. I am done having the coat fight with my kids and if their dumb asses want to be cold then fine.

But from walking from my car to my mom's front door in his t-shirt he got really chilled. His little teeth were even chattering. It really wasn't that cold--34 degrees or so.Cold but not enough to be chilled from a short run inside. But nonetheless we bundled him up and Lala made him a fire. I left. Went and did the art lesson and came back to get him right before 10 am.

Lala answered the door cradling Beau in her arms. She said she thought he had fever but he wouldn't let her take his temperature (my kids are weird about this. They are rarely sick and even though we do it under the arm they lose their marbles over it. So dumb--if they only knew the other way I could do it.) He let me take his temperature and it was 103. He and Carmella have both had higher temperatures than that but Beau was not acting how he has acted in the past when he has been sick. I mean this is a kid who had the flu at 15 months old and was running around the house and body slamming me or Carmella. I was shocked when his test came back positive for type A flu. And then there was the times he had rotavirus or a stomach bug and would eat, then vomit, then eat and then vomit but otherwise was totally fine. Little vomiting, watery diarrhea ain't gonna slow my crazy man down.

Yesterday though he was pale and was just laying there moaning. I have never seen him do that. But even as I put him in the car he kept arguing that he felt better and that he was fine. I bribed him with a promise of McDonald's french fries and he readily agreed to go to the doctor (not that he a choice--it is just that a willing participant makes these visits slightly easier) I called them on the way and let them know we were coming. They said they would work us in. Beau by then was somewhat lethargic and I have to say I was pretty freaked out. What usually takes 25 minutes to drive took me about 15. We rode with the windows down (heat on though.) My hope was to bring his temperature down. It helped a little.

When we got there I asked them to take his temperature right away. It was 102.3. He wouldn't let me put him down. Anyone who knows Beau knows that since he was about 7 months old he doesn't like to be held.

I bought some Motrin--which he compliantly took. We waited for about an hour to be seen. By that point he was moaning, his breathing was rapid and he was very weak. I still got him to drink 2 small cups of water. He really is a very good patient.

We finally got in to see the dr who then sent us for a chest x-ray and blood work--I didn't even have to ask. I think having waited to give him the Motrin was a wise decision on my part since the dr got to see for himself how ill Beau looked. While we were doing the x-rays I think the Motrin finally kicked in as he became perkier and would actually walk on his own.

Beau really is the best patient ever. He was so cooperative about getting the x-rays and was quite the trooper about getting his blood drawn--well at least the first time.

After the labs and x-rays we had to wait to be seen again. Finally we were called back and the dr looked at Beau again and sent us straight on over to Children's. Beau's white count was over 27,000. It is considered high at 16,000.

So on to the Er where we waited and waited. Beau was doing better but where he is usually an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10, as far as activity goes, he was about a 4. He still had a fever of 101--even with the Motrin. It was weird but kinda cool to see what a laid back chill Beau was like. As difficult as he is sometimes I definitely prefer the healthy hyper one. He scared some bejesus out of me yesterday.

After what seemed to me hours and hey, it was, we got a room. And the ER dr looked at the x rays and the lab work and decided, eventually, on an IV antibiotic drip. I have to say I was relieved. I think I have mentioned before about when Carmella was a baby and ended up having septicemia. I spent a week of dr visits and 3 ER visits until I was taken seriously. And, of course, after what happened with Evan I just wasn't willing to go through that or what I had with Carmella. So even though it is absolutely horrible to pin your 3 yr old down and watch while they dig through his veins as he screams bloody murder-- I am telling you now: don't let it faze you. It is nothing. Nothing. Compared to what might happen if you don't.

So I kept that in my mind as Beau was traumatized by 2 ER nurses. And I have to say that compared to Carmella he pales in his antics but is still a champion screamer. 3 other nurses popped in to ask if they needed help. Between Beau's screams of "GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!"--and yes, he really said that-- I tried to distract him. I asked him to tell us a secret. He managed to get out"Parker eats turkey." I am so pleased that he can maintain his humor in the face of such torture. He is going to make it through middle and high school just fine. No worries.

The torture was worth it. After the course of antibiotics his fever was gone and his color better. Even Beau himself commented that his bones were feeling better. He had gotten it in his head--I guess because of the x-rays --that his bones were sick.

He hasn't had any fever since but we still had to spend 4 hours today in the After hours care for a follow-up visit ($60 copay) to get a prescription for antibiotics ($60 dollars because we haven't met the deductible. We never meet the deductible)

I am beat. The 10k and kid's party would have been less exhausting.

And last week was a total waste as far as my ING training goes. Only 3 days of running and 31 miles--no long run. But I have to admit that my legs feel great. Today I woke up for the first time in forever and wasn't sore. I could even walk down the stairs on the very first time the regular way--not side ways on that first time down like I usually have to do.

Unplugging

I've been thinking about unplugging. My ipod. I hate that it is such a crutch for me. I don't like addiction of any sort. I like to know I am in control.

Don't get me wrong, I love my little pod but if anything happened to it--I just don't even want to think about it. I would be devastated for sure. And knowing me, something is bound to happen. I actually have nightmares about it. Really. And this is not unreasonable of my psyche. I went through 3 RIO MP3 players in less than a year. I am so destructive when it comes to all things electronic or mechanical--no matter how careful I try to be. And for the record, you probably should never lend me your clothes either.

I need to know I can be a runner without my ipod. Certainly I have run without tunes. But I am so much slower. So I would not give up the pod for my long runs or probably even long races. Music heavily motivates me and lifts my spirits. Those long runs and marathons are incredibly emotional. 3 hours is a good chunk of time to spend alone with your thoughts and some endorphins. There is a welling. There is a flood. There is a flow--of thoughts, emotions, and sensations. Music cushions the blow. At least for me it does.

But oddly, I have noticed that lately when I've done a 10k race I am not really even hearing the music because I am so focused on my pace. I really don't think I have the mental stamina to stay that focused for a marathon--possibly a half marathon but I think I definitely do for a 10k. At the very least I don't think my lack of tunes will hinder my performance in a shorter race. I may be wrong but I have pretty much decided that I will put this to the test in the 10K race I am doing this Saturday.

My ultimate 10k goal is to run a sub 42. I know that right now I am just not physically capable of cranking out 6 sub 7 minute miles. I could do 2 probably 3 and maybe even 4 miles but I just know I don't have the endurance for a whole 10k. I do think I will get there but I am definitely not there yet.

The reason behind doing a sub 42 for a 10k means I get sub-seeded for thePeachtree. Why this is important to me is a little silly but I do think it represents a superior level in running. Anything over 42 minutes and under 55 minutes gets you in the same place--Time group 1A or B and I'm already there. Basically this means you get a chip and get to be towards the front of 50,000 or so runners. But under 42 minutes? I am standing right there behind the elites and well, to me, that is something. For this 35 year old mother of 2 who came late to running that is pretty big. Some people dream big. But me? I look for the little accomplishments that can lift me up. I'll take success anyway I can get it.

I would love to hear from any previous plugheads (not hair club members) that have unplugged for a race and how it went.

In other running related news I bought new shoes. I've only been in my last pair since Christmas but they are completely shot. So are the 7 other pairs I have laying around. I got another pair of Brooks Adrenaline but these babies have MoGo and I love them. I bought them yesterday afternoon and have already run twice in them and put 14 miles on them. Both runs were great--one speed workout on the mill and one mid length outside. Of course the weather today was just amazing so that definitely helped. I hope to get 18 miles in tomorrow morning but we'll see. In the past 2 days I've put in 22 miles so my legs may prove less than cooperative. Shrug, I don't want to ruin myself for Saturday's tune out.

What?

This morning Ryan was all irritated with me that I moved the hand lotion (I didn't) and this action knocked his wedding ring off the table and now he can't find it. So I was to look for it since it was my fault that it was lost because I moved the hand lotion-- which if you saw my hands you would know that I have been no where near any hand lotion.

So basically I just ignored him and told him to have fun while he was single today. Carmella overheard and wanted to know what I was going to do to Daddy for losing his ring? Was I going to punish him? Spank him? (he wishes)Take his toys away? Make him clean the bathroom? I told her I was going to ignore him. She was understandably disappointed that I was not going to be more harsh with him.

On my way to taking Beau to school Ryan called to tell me that he found his ring.
Oh really? Where? I asked.
On my hand, he said.
Huh. Dead onion says what.

I miss slumber parties

It is 2am.

I get up to get a drink of water and I climb back in bed.

Me: (in a whisper) Dead onion says "what".

Ryan: (groggy) What?

Me: (giggles--for 15 minutes)

Losers

I know I have mentioned in various posts that I have a group of friends and we call ourselves the Losers. The "core" Losers are the 6 pack but really anyone can be a Loser.
Really!
All that needs to happen is that around a big holiday--like say Christmas or New Years-- you find that you have been invited to no parties. You are then eligible to come to one of our Loser parties. Please keep in mind that this is not a case of shopping around for a better offer. If you have the luxury of shopping then you are not a Loser. To attend the Loser party the Loser party must be the only offer on your table.

Calling ourselves Losers has not been problematic until recently when Carmella ran past me and Bubbles (my mother-in-law) and called out: "See you losers later!"
I thought it was funny.
Bubbles did not.
And I do realize I am doing my child a disservice since she will probably go to school and call one of her classmates a loser and they won't know that this is a term of endearment and Carmella will have to go to the Principal's office and I'll get called in for a meeting to discuss my daughter's vulgar language choices. And it really will be all my fault--sure I'll blame TV but I'll know better. Sheesh. I told you this parenting gig was hard!

The other Losers have been bugging me about pictures. I have a couple cute ones of the kids but not really any great Loser or 6 pack pictures from all our parties. I guess I am not so much a loser at the Loser parties as it would appear that I am too busy to be snapping pictures. Or maybe I don't want a gazillion pictures of you Losers. Whatever. Here's what I got:

Summer Loser gathering. This party actually never moved out of the driveway and garage. Funny how even if you are in neighborhood with $500k homes it is still redneck to sit in the front lawn and drink beer in folding chairs.
Little losers on my bed at a recent gathering of the Losers.

Little Losers at Christmas:
The "core" Losers at Christmas:

I can't tell you how many pictures I have of this cock-eyed Loser. Not sure exactly why I have so many but probably because he is usually the first to pass out and it is funny that he does it on the couch where we are still hanging out. I decided to just pick one and lucky for him I chose one where he is not sleeping or drooling or looking too lecherous.

Okay, I know you really just want to see the kids and don't care about us Losers so here you go:

Post-Coital Caviar

I actually watched the Superbowl this year. So I can make a semi-informed post-bowl post.

So proud. So very, very proud.

Okay, so what if I didn't know until it started who was even playing. It doesn't matter that I don't follow football. Unfortunately for me (well it wasn't truly unfortunate since I didn't place bets or anything-- I just in general hate not winning)I mistakenly decided to root for the Bears.

Why the Bears and not the Colts?

Well, you see--it's like this:

I would rather live in Chicago than Indianapolis.

And now my secret is out.

My very scientific way of picking teams is to choose the team from the place where I would rather live. Now if both teams are from cool places-- like say Denver and San Francisco-- then I go by who has the better outfits. In case you are wondering, I did like the Colts' outfits better than Bears' but then as mascots go I am more a teddy bear girl than horse girl--so the Bears win again.
Anyway, goooo Chicago!!! Next year!
Besides, I hear they put on an awesome marathon. . .

Normally we go to a Superbowl party and I don't watch one second of the game--except maybe the halftime show-- and instead chat it up with the girls. But we didn't go to any parties this year and it is just as well since I have a kindergartner who has to be in bed early.

I wasn't totally bored but was sort of busy with the kids the first half and I missed a good bit of the game so I only have a Superbowl Top 5 (--okay, really I only have 5 because I am just not a football fan and honestly I can't come up with more than 5):

#5 I thought is was funny that it rained.
Why? Well, along with being a complainer I can also be the tiniest bit petty. And since it rained and I had bad weather during my marathon--the marathon that I spent 3 months training for--I thought it only a little fair that other athletes have to suffer in foul weather too for their sport. And it was kinda an an-eh on the people that spent bu coo bucks to sit in a stadium in the rain to watch football.

#4 Mr.Turkey Neck.
The Fed Ex commercial in the-- I think-- last quarter, maybe the 3rd. I have no idea what was said but I had a really good chuckle when she said "Mr. Turkey Neck". And since I thought most of all the previous commercials were rather lame it was nice to finally get a good laugh.

#3 The K-Fed commercial.
That was hilarious. I loved it. And I am sure his public rating will go up a good bit for that since I think most people in this country appreciate someone that can laugh at themselves-- even if they are capitalizing on it.

#2 Prince
This should be first because that was the highlight of the SBXLI and was absolutely the best halftime show I have ever seen-- Janet Jackson's bewbie not withstanding. I think we have a new Godfather(--my apologies to James Brown fans but I prefer Prince).
The half time show is not first only because I am still giggling and puzzled over Ryan's little gem. Which bring us to . . .

#1 Ryan's "post-coital caviar"
The caviar he is going to enjoy after he has sex with Oprah.
Oh, and that I am "not to worry," since he will make sure the kids and I "are taken care of."

Here is the context for #1: At some point in the game I heard the announcer guy saying that some player wants to date Oprah. And I mused out loud what would a young and probably famous or at least semi famous football player want to date Oprah for? Not that Oprah is painful to look at but Oprah is, what? 50 and I guess I just assumed that a young football jock would want, well, you know, some young hawt thang. And Ryan responded--when I really wasn't looking for a response that "Who wouldn't want to date Oprah!"
Apparently, Oprah's billions make her super hawt--at least to my husband.

Really, knowing him, I shouldn't be surprised by this but it does at times make me wonder why he married me. (Oh right, Oprah ran a marathon too.)

7 weeks and counting down to ING

You know what I have decided?

I am a fair weather runner.

I realized this because usually around this time of year, at least in the past, I am never running more than 35 miles a week-- probably less, probably most days indoors. I know I don't do any runs longer than 10 miles. In the summer I also never run more than 35 miles--mostly all indoors and I doubt I do any runs outside longer than 7 miles since that is about all I can stand to do on the treadmill. I do also do more cross training and weights to try to compensate and keep up my endurance but nothing works for running as, well, running.

I am telling you this because it has bothered me how much I've been complaining. So, I went and looked at my posts from when I trained for the OBX marathon and I saw that I was complaining about the heat and the humidity then. I noticed that I complain a lot. Sorry.

Apparently, I am a complainer.

Big heavy sigh, yes, I knew this. It is my shtick. I'm one of those people who-- say when you go skiing-- will complain endlessly about how cold they are, how much their feet hurt and how miserable they are and go on and on about how much it sucks all the way up the lift ride. They swear left and right and up and down that after this run they are done and if you want to get any you better be done too. But then they do that run and it so much fun that I, I mean they, can't wait to get back in line to do another run. And then the complaining begins again.

I guess I like the world to know when I am uncomfortable. I am definitely not one to suffer in silence. Ever. Actually, I am not one that does much of anything in silence. If I have an emotion, a thought? Pretty much everyone within earshot knows about it.

My point?

Well, duh, obviously I was very uncomfortable today.

But I am also so very proud of myself. Pats self, yet again, on the back. Good job Nat!

I did my long run today and it was 23 miles. It was very hilly. And worse it was 28 degrees when I started out--even colder if you factor in the windchill, which of course I am. The worst part though? I run alone. What does that have to do with anything? Well, silly, there is no one for me to complain to. Rest assured though that if anyone had asked me I would have unloaded a world of woes onto them.

And I will say that at least it was sunny today so it was not so terrible. I was really cold and miserable for about the first 6 miles but then as the temps climbed I did begin to feel better (my tail though was ice the whole time) and enjoyed myself a good bit. It was also a bit breezy today but not terrible as the wind was only at 10-15mph. Couple of gusts but no biggies that tossed me around like last week.

I finished in around 3 hours and 25 minutes-- around a 9 minute mile pace (it was probably 38 degrees by then). Definitely not as fast I was would have liked, but like I said; it was cold and it was very hilly. Steph can vouch for me about the hills since I ran part of the route through her neighborhood as a cut through before heading into town. Up and down and up and down all over this little suburban town.

So here is my week:
Sunday: rest day
Monday: 10 miles
Tuesday: 7 miles
Wednesday: This was suppose to be a long run (either my 2 hour or my 3 hour) but I couldn't do it. The temps that morning were 18 degrees and while I was dressed warm enough I felt like I couldn't breathe and started to feel a little light-headed. I turned back and ended up only doing 3 miles. Went to the gym in the afternoon and did a 10K in 47 minutes and change. Then I did weights--legs even.
Thursday: Ice and rain. 4 miles in just under 30 minutes. 1/2 mile cool down walk. More weights.
Friday: Went to the gym. 5 miles: 4 miles in just under 30 again and a one mile cool down at an 8:30 pace.
Saturday: 23 miles.
Total Miles: 58

The Subtle Power of Suggestion

Good God! Is it bedtime yet?

Me--rolling dice-- come on bedtime . . .

What. A. Day.

Nothing too out of the ordinary but please, really, let me be the guinea pig for ya and you just take my words as wisdom and not make the same mistakes that I do.

Specifically, do not. Do. Not. Take a 3 year old, a 5 year old (and her baby doll that is the size of a 5 month old because you will end up carrying it) and a 3 month old Husky to Petsmart.

We are talking serious trials and tribulations-- with consequences and repercussions.

First, there's Beau. Beau, who we all know is just so friendly and so outgoing that really; there are no strangers. And then there all the animals, reptiles, fish, and birds in cages and he just loves them all. Along with all the accessories for the animals, reptiles, fish and birds that he can find human uses for. Good fun, really, it is--for him.

Then there is Carmella who is good and listens but she gets caught up in all of Beau's joy and wonder but then realizes that is not the straight and narrow way. She waffles. The whole time. And Beau? Well, you are either with him or against him. So basically there are lots of little Beau and Carmella wars. You can't blame Beau for being confused because Carmella really should pick a side and stick with it (and for my sake I hope eventually it will be mine.)

And then there is Lovely Lola the Husky. It is like going out with a celebrity. Everyone must adore, fawn over and ask me a gazillion questions about her as if I look like I actually have the time to answer them when what I really need to be doing is finding 3 year old who as yet again gone off to look at the iguana or Mommy! Mommy! Look! They have cats here! CATS!!!!!

Oh yeah, and then there is the ever helpful Petsmart employees who stalk you-- just waiting to upsale you if you even seem the slightest bit naive or perplexed on anything concerning Puppy. (And OHMYGOD! Is that a Husky Puppy or is it a Malamute? Really, is this how it is with dogs? People are crazier about puppies than they are about babies.)

I am getting wise to them though--the Petsmart employees that is. But I swear,Petsmart is just like Target. I can barely make it out of there for less than $100 and all I went in for was dog food! Somehow, now I am the proud owner of sparkly pink 6' leash (she already has 3 leashes--but not a 6 ' leash) and matching collar, a pink harness and an ID tag and some fun new puppy toys (her toys are rivaling the kids collection). If it had been left up to Carmella Lola would also have 8 new sparkly outfits to match her fancy new collar, harness and 6'leash. Big business, this puppy stuff.

So yeah, an hour later we were outta there!

Anyway, what the heck was this post about? Oh yeah, "The Subtle Power of Suggestion!"

As I am writing this the kids just came past me Conga-lining and Can-can-ing and singing "ChachachachaCHA ChachachacCHA!" Seriously,am I being taped for an episode of the Surreal Life? And, really, is it bedtime yet??? Please. . . .

Well, those Petsmart people got nothing on me. Listen to this: You guys know about Beau's speech problem, right? Well his speech therapist last year recommended giving him fish oil. Just trust me that I researched it and it is pretty valid. Regardless of that get this: Three days after I gave it to him he started speaking in sentences and adding at least 5 new words a day--prior to that he was only saying maybe 60 words total and had no sentences--just some phrases-- and his word accumulation was painfully slow. So, magic elixir or just coincidence? I have no idea but he does seem to make improvement when I give it to him whereas he seems to plateau without. At the very least it is not going to hurt him and it has helped his eczema (which Carmella also use to have). I give it to Carmella too.

So what does this have to do with the power of suggestion?

Okay, well, for adults the fish oil comes in caplets but for young children it only comes in liquid. They try to cushion the foulness by mixing the fishy taste with a berry flavor but really I can't imagine anything more disgusting than codfish and strawberries. You read right--"imagine" because I personally have never tasted it--I do have that fin fish allergy, you know. But Ryan has taste tested and verified that the combination is as gross as it smells and sounds.

So here is where the power of suggestion comes in:
My kids LOVE it.

Why?

I tell them it is Batman juice. I also tell them it will make them strong and the smartest kids in the whole world. Ever. They actually beg me for it and fight over who gets it first. They even say it is the best tasting thing ever--Carmella said it was better than chocolate. And this is coming from 2 kids who stand at the seafood counter at Publix and loudly proclaim how much they hate "beach food" and how stinky and gross it is.

Happy Birthday Evan

Today Evan Andrew would have been 3 years old.
And today,
like we do every single day,
we are thinking of you.

We miss you everyday.
We miss, so much,
your sweet smile,
your joy
your little laugh.
We want it all back.

Justin, Pam and Duncan,
I hope you find some peace today.

With love and forever sorry;
your sister,
Nat

Grocery Shopping: An Intervention

Today I had to go grocery shopping--you know, there's a potential ice storm.

It is Georgia.
I must go buy bread and milk.
Glenn Burns says it is not as bad as originally expected.
Ken Cook says it is worse.
(They're the local weatherman--too lazy to Google links.)

Sigh, but I had Beau with me.

However, he was sitting, quite unusually, in the cart.

He was-- even more unusual-- being a very good, cooperative, boy. This almost never happens when we grocery shop--especially if Carmella is with us as they will compete in their naughtiness. Beau excels at the naughtiness in public event. Carmella does not. I guess it is an attention thing on his part.

Whatever, who cares. It is always embarrassing and very annoying. See,I'm one of those moms in the grocery store (also on the plane, in the waiting room, at the restaurant, where ever, I am always THAT mom.)

Anyway, I said to him, towards the end of our unusually uneventful shopping excursion:

"Oh yeah, I want to get some orange juice. I love orange juice!"

Beau, correcting me: "No you don't!"

Me, correcting him, as I place fresh squeezed with calcium Publix OJ in my cart: "Uh, yes, I do!I love it after my runs"

Beau, oddly, now angry, "No you don't! Mommy! YOU drink BEER!"

Me, glancing around to see who heard and sigh as it was several people who I see covering their snickers so I quickly concede that: "Yes, I do drink beer-- but only occasionally and never,ever, for breakfast."

And Beau in his impatient, angry voice proclaims: "Mommy. Yes. You. Do! You drink BEER for breakfast. " (For the record I do not drink beer for breakfast--or for any meal for that matter)

As I quickly rush my cart to the check-out line and try to salvage my dignity, I correct him that it is "COFFEE Beau. Coffee. Oh, look there's Scooby Doo. . ."

On why you should not come to me for medical advice

Right now I am feeling a little like the writers at Grey's Anatomy must have been feeling when they wrote the script for this Thursday's episode. I say this because I am having little trouble getting started. I am having some problems organizing my thoughts. This might be more because of the kids running around and the dog howling than true writer's block --especially since I do know what I want to say. Just having some trouble getting it out.

I am certain that if I were a more gifted writer I could tie it all together in some witty and bright way but alas. . .( And no, I am not tossing out a baited hook. Really, I'm not.)

So, anyway, I noticed in the preview for next week's Grey's it looks like it is going to be a quarantine episode.
The quarantine episode? You ask?
The quarantine episode is the cliche episode of medical dramas.
All the medical dramas do at least one--ER, House-- and it is always so, so predictable.

It seems that the writer's pull out the quarantine episode when they have reached a point in the story line that has left them stuck or for whatever reason they have to get all the characters trapped together. However, whatever; it is a weak device and not very original.

And I always imagine the writers of the shows as sitting all Dorthy Parkeresque Algonquin Round Table-like hashing out banal ideas and everyone going-- no,no, no that won't work. And then from the quiet corner comes the "Well, hey, how about this? We could do a quarantine situation. . . "

I remember once in one of my undergrad lit classes it being said that Shakespeare has already written all the original plots and everything modern is just that-- a modern twist on an old plot. Now I don't know about that but I do know that the quarantine is the staple of all medical dramas on TV and that the writers parade it out when they've got no where else to go. Even still, who doesn't love the thrill of a good Hazmat/CDC situation? And usually they reveal some cool new virus or bacteria that I have never heard of and has disgusting, dire and creepy symptoms. So for the sake of some delicious new dramatized disease being revealed I will watch. I mean, that is assuming I can stay up for it this week like I was able to last week.

And that is the long winding road that brings me to what I really wanted to talk about: last week's episode.
Did you see it?
It totally had me peaking out from behind my hands.
You know, that scene? The one where Calli and Christina slash open the marathon runner's legs sans anesthesia?
Freaked. My. Ass. Out.
And after my OHMYGOD scream I asked why the hell they did that and more importantly, how can I avoid having that happen to me?
Unfortunately, they skipped right over the medical tutorial and went straight to the smoochy kissy kiss stuff.
Do these people not understand that I watch these sorts of shows (House, ER, Grey's et all) for the obscure medical information they provide?
How else I am I to sound knowledgeable at the Doctor's?
Or, when friends ask my medical opinion on stuff-- just like someone did on Saturday night about what happened to that runner.

Well, I finally remembered yesterday to Google about it. And apparently I wasn't the only runner slightly wigged out by that scene. Amby Burfoot had already blogged about the same thing on his Runner's World blog. Some fine Md's came along to comment that the marathoner's glossed over condition was probably this.

And, so it would seem, that probably isn't something I am going to have to worry too much about. In fact, I should probably focus more on what is going to happen when my tightly wound Achilles finally pops.

Long Run: 8 weeks and counting down.

Sunday is 8 weeks til ING and I finally got a 20 miler in. But damn did it suck. I don't know what my problem is but today was really a struggle. And I can't blame the weather today. It was a beautiful day--an almost spring day-- and if it hadn't been so nice I am sure I would have bailed.

After the first 6 miles I actually altered my course--it should have been a 22 miler--just in case things got worse and then I could cut my losses and make it a 15 miler.

But I hung in there and I am glad I did--just for the sake of getting it done. It worked out to be a little over 3 hours which is really surprising considering all the walking I did.

And my calves and Achilles? Yeah, they bothered me for, oh, about 16 miles. I found it funny--not funny haha but funny peculiar-- that the last 4 miles felt the best. I ran the last 4 in under an 8 minute mile pace-- go figure that. Who knows, maybe if I had stuck it out there another few miles it could have been even better. Yeah right, I know when to call it day and end on a high note.

After the past few weeks of training not going as well as I think it should I just have to tell myself that it is better to struggle in training than in the race. And that is what is getting me through and keeping me from quitting completely.

Anyway, not a completely terrible week:
Sunday: Rest
Monday: 6 outside and then 5k speed workout on the treadmill. I think I did weights--I can't remember. I think I did weights twice this week.
Tuesday: 10 miles general aerobic run
Wednesday: 10 miles general aerobic run
Thursday: 13 sucky miles--long run I cut short. 4 mile speed workout. Weights.
Friday: Rest day but did take the kids and Lola on a 3 mile walk at the trail. I am not counting that in my mpw though.
Saturday: 20 miles in 3 hours.
Total MPW: 66--not too shabby . . .

Competition

Beau and Carmella are very competitive with each other. Everything is a race: Who can get up the stairs first, get dressed/undressed first, brush their teeth first,get in the car, finish breakfast/lunch/dinner first and so on and so on.

The one who wins screams "I won! You lose!" Then taunting begins: Carmella is a loser, Beau is a baby etc. Carmella, being Carmella, usually feels badly afterwards and consoles Beau that next time he can win. Beau, being Beau, never feels badly.

All this competition is very advantageous for me as it is a way to get them to get stuff done. And while I admit that this may not be the best parenting approach it does help me get crap done without having to blow my stack.

So today, to encourage Carmella to finish her breakfast (she always loses the breakfast competition but always wins the dinner), I pointed out that Beau was winning.
This is when she matter-of-fact told me: "Mommy we don't do that anymore. We do pattarins. And it is Beau's turn to win."

"Pattarins?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, explaining: "I win, then Beau wins and then it is my turn again. Pattarins. I won last so it is Beau's turn to win. I lose."

"Carmella, just finish your breakfast."
Carmella's vocabulary has always been larger than her understanding but she fakes it well. I love how confident she is of her word comprehension. And I admire her for being so adventurous and using the big words in new and unique ways.

But please tell me this; how in the hell am I suppose to get them to do anything if the spirit of friendly competition is dead in our house because of the "pattarins" movement?

Sigh, as always, Mommy loses.

The Cold; the Bitter, Bitter Cold

Yeah, so my long run didn't go so well and, as it turned out, it wasn't actually long.

When I heard on the morning news that they had a wind advisory for this morning I knew then that I wasn't going to have the run of my life. Maybe the negativity is to blame. I don't know, but I do know it is just really hard to stay postive when you are bone cold and uncomfortable. What can I say? I'm a southern girl and I guess I am just not all that tough when it comes to the cold. I tried though.

The temperature when I started was 33 degrees with wind gusts. I can't remember what the mph were.

And, the first mile was okay but then my Achilles tightened up. I had to walk, stop and stretch it, massage it, and walk. This went on for a few miles and then I had to pee. But my pit stop was still 4 miles away. I have mentioned before how difficult it is to run when you have to pee right? We won't visit that again.

Then the wind really kicked in. Did I mention that the first part of this course has some monster rolling hills? That was not fun running against the wind. But my Achilles though was finally warm, so at least that was good--- or maybe it was that I couldn't feel it.

I stopped around mile 7 and got water and a potty and then continued on. Around mile 10 a gust hit me hard as I was coming down a hill and I got tossed a bit. I guess it looked funny because the guy stopped at the stop sign was laughing at me. At mile 11 I had the option of going left and running 10 more miles or going right and running 2 more. I took a right. I finished the run at 13 miles and just under 2 hours and it sucked.

But I went to the gym tonight and ran 4 miles in 29:18 on the treadmill so I feel better about that. I plan on trying to do my long run on Saturday. I already mapped out my route and it is just shy of 22 miles. So I am taking tomorrow off from running and resting up, so hopefully it will go well. No excuses. I'm sick of them.

What 20 buck Happiness Bought

--Can of black beans to go with the rice that went with the chicken enchilada dinner I made.
That was the kids' Happiness. They love them some rice and beans.

--Package of Goodnight pants for Beau who is not night trained who I will not considered night trained until he goes a month straight of waking up dry.
I am only washing sheets once a week and I am sticking to that.
That is my less house work is more happiness Happiness.

---Cheap bottle of pinot grigio.
Okay, so this is where I found my Happiness. Wait, I'm sorry, let's call this one my bliss.

Had a good run today too. Did 10--about 5 minutes faster today --in just under an hour 20.

I hope tomorrow's long run goes as well. I'm sort of dreading it. I am just hating the cold. Mostly, I really am not liking how cold my ass gets. And it make my legs hurt and feel all stiff. I have tried walking the first 1/4 mile but it hasn't made a difference. I have even tried doing some yoga. Nada. Still stiff.

The cold really isn't so much an issue for shorter runs but the longer runs get pretty uncomfortable. I am thinking I might try long johns under my tights tomorrow. Today I ran in my fleece pants and my ass was still cold. Everything else is fine but my butt is an iceberg. Not comfortable, at all. I just can't figure out why I can't keep that area warm--especially since I do get hot everywhere else. I even took off my mittens today but my ass was still chilled.

Sigh. Sorry, about the bitching. I should be happy, grateful that I am at least able to run outside. And I am. Surely someone else has had this problem and has a suggestion. . .

Twenty-buck Happiness

I once wrote a short story that I could never reconcile called "Twenty-buck Happiness".

It became a joke in my undergrad creative writing class-- the title that is. The guys in the class were eager to get my story for critique because they felt certain it would be about a blow job.
It wasn't.
And it was sort of hard to go back and edit after learning that what the title conjured in the mind was some sort of jack shack plot.

At any rate, my story, was about this guy who went AWOL and with $20: bought some fabric and made a dress and stole a moped and wore a football helmet (a la Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider) to drive from Utah to Minnesota to give the dress to the love of his life and propose marriage. Little goofy, I know, and I won't tell you how it ended.

But I will tell you the story was drawn from family lore that I borrowed greatly from. And, imagine that. Here I am calling you out, uhm Vinton-- should you be reading-- to tell what the true story is. . .

I don't know guys, maybe that one involves a blow job . . .

Anyway . . .I am having a better week. Back to feeling like myself and for the past 2 days I have gotten shit done. Some of you may recall that I was whining here about how I miss the Nat that gets shit done. Tentatively, she seems to be back. I am feeling less like Atlas who shoulders the world on his back and more like a DJ diva that spins it. I most definitely prefer the diva. She's got dance hits.

This is not to say there still isn't this huge mountain sitting in front of me stacked high with financial woes and emotional roadblocks-- not to mention some mild injuries-- but I just feel stronger about scaling and conquering it than I have for the past few months--well, I should say that at least for today I do.

And hey, things have to be looking up.
You see, I found $20 bucks on the sidewalk this afternoon!
I feel like the universe is saying: yeah, I'm sorry I've been robbing your ass for the past few months. Please accept this small token as an apology and know that things are going to get better.

Okay, yeah, I know; I am reading way too much into 20 bucks-- But people, I'm that desperate for any kind of positive sign.
And hey! It's 20 bucks.

So, running this week is going better. Yesterday I ran 6 outside in the morning and then did a 5k speed workout at the gym and then did a full workout of weights: arms, legs, back, abs-- the whole Nat and caboodle.
Today I ran 10 outside and it wasn't easy because it was cold and windy and my ass was numb but I got it done.
Later, I even took the kids and Lola for a walk at "the trail". Then we indulged in hot chocolate at Starbucks.
So it was a good day.
Tomorrow I hope to do 6, maybe 10 again if I'm feeling good, and then 20ish on Thursday and either rest, cross train or 4 on Friday and then 13-15 on Saturday.

I am of course, hesitant about this optimism: but what the heck, I found 20 bucks.

Why we don't bother buying them toys anymore

Mama got a new broom!
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Mama got a new broom.
She's sweepin the dirt to its doom.
Yeah, Mama got a new broom.
Ba nair na nair na nair nair

I saiddddd. . . . Mama's got a new broom. . .

Red hot, fancy and new.
Ain't no vaccum gonna do!
Mama's got her a new broom!
You hear me!
She is sweeping that dirt to the tomb.
Oh, yeahhhhh.. . Mama's got a new broom!
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mama got a new broom!

Go Beau, break it down:

I said, Baby! Yeah, baby!
My Mama's got a new broom.
She's sweeping up all the gloom
Our house is shiny and new . . .
in each and every room.
I said! Baby! Yeah Baby, my Mama's got a new broom.
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah yeah. New broom. New broom. A zoom zoom new broom.
Go Mama go.

Thank you, thankyouverymuch.

Talking of Michelangelo

Or, so they say the women do as they come and go. . .
And then there are those mermaids . . .
And, yes, I've heard about them.
So it is said: They sing each to each.
Do they sing to me?
Ah, who cares.
What matters is that Carmella loves to draw.

Since she was 2 she could spend hours drawing, coloring or painting. It is fabulous to have a child that can entertain herself so well and so easily. Maybe she has talent, maybe not. But I think at the least she would make her Lala proud, who, by the way, definitely does have talent:
Here is some of her recent work--and by her, I mean Carmella. Lala is busy in her studio toiling away, not babysitting for me, doing her work--right Lala?
A rendering of Madame Blueberry.

A mermaid and a rainbow:
At dinner last night I mentioned that I use to like to do sketches of dresses. So here is what Carmella came up with :
It is a drawing of her "dream closet."

Okay, so that last one is mine. But I should point out that hers was the inspriation for mine and I think hers is better.
And that brings me to my favorite poem. (Okay, so I should say my second favorite poem. Really, this, is my favorite.)
But the following poem by Frank O'Hara makes the most sense to me and and it explains everything--at least everything about the artistic process:
Why I am not a Painter

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters, "It was too much," Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven't mentioned
orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.

Running log: 9 weeks to go

What a frustrating week. I definitely lost my mojo. Uhm, running mojo that is. . .

But today I seem to be over the ailments that humbled me early on in the week. I fell way short of my 63 mpw goal and didn't even remotely follow the Advance Marathoning training schedule.

Really, I think I should give up on that.

I don't think it is right for my body or my lifestyle. I think the mileage is fine but the schedule of how he gets to it doesn't work for me. I need to be more flexible since with 2 small kids who knows what is going to happen. It is stressing me out trying to follow a specific plan.

Apparently, I have issues with setting goals, making plans and then not being able to live up to them. Goals? Plans? I guess they don't jive with my under-over achiever mojo. And although I know most definitely that not following a training schedule religiously for a marathon is not the end of the world; it does mess with my psyche and leads to ridiculous and negative, self-sabotaging thinking.

In other words, I am better off without a plan, without a schedule. I just hate failure too much. Even small, insignificant, meaningless ones.

So here is how my week broke down: --And if you didn't know that I was trying to follow the Advance Marathoning 12/70 plan then it would of come off as a decent week rather than a dismal, complete failure of a week. wah wah wah, I know.
Sunday: rest
Monday: 7 miles general aerobic run on a hilly course. (And I should point out here that all my runs outside are on hilly courses.)Then 5k on the treadmill--speed work. Can't remember the time. Weights.
Tuesday: Nothing
Wednesday: 10k in 50 minutes on treadmill.
Thursday: Nothing--I tried though. I went out but came back after a mile. My Achilles felt like it was going to pop. I am thinking this isn't so much tendinitis as it is just being cold. This was a really rainy and cold day. I need to figure out how to keep it warm or maybe start off slower in the colder weather. The Achilles doesn't seem to be a problem at the gym or on warmer days.
Friday: 10K on the treadmill 46 minutes.
Saturday: 19 miles at a 9:05 pace. A bit off goal but the course was very challenging with lots of hills, then some flat stretches and part on a trail and more hills. Neither my back or my Achilles bothered me. I just felt tired.
Total miles: 41

Looking to get my mojo back on next week.

Saturday Morning

Carmella last night wanted to wear dress up clothes for pajamas.
This morning Beau wanted to get dressed immediately and wanted to dress like a pirate today.
So. . .