Last weekend was long and yet short. Friday night we left SeaTac on an 11:45pm flight bound for Milwaukee. As you know, people watching is one of my favorite pastimes particularly at the airport. The one who took the cake this trip? A plump 70-ish year old woman in a skin-tight, one shoulder strap, leopard print mini-dress in wedge sandals so tall she could hardly shuffle in them. Oh man, I loved her; she was great.

Unfortunately, for once, I would’ve actually preferred a longer flight since it was our ‘night.’ We got about three hours of not awesome sleep before touching down in Milwaukee at 5:30 local time (3:30am our time). We picked up our rental car and drove half-way to Madison. We pulled off the highway at what appeared to be the quintessential country diner and proceeded to (like truckers at a truck stop – who did heavily populate the diner parking lot) nap in the car for two hours before going inside to breakfast. I was pumped to be in Wisconsin – the land of delicious cheese – so I made my selection carefully. Ordering a home-made croissant sandwich with ham and cheese, I practically salivated in anticipation….for my slice of melted American!!! What?! A little disappointing, I’ll admit. Thankfully, I did get to try some yummy cheeses at the Madison farmer’s market.

We arrived in Madison to see our friends (Eric and Mebbie) and meet beautiful, 5 week old, Goddaughter Emma. She’s adorable – just this little petite peanut of a thing! She’s so tiny (especially after spending my days with now 6 month old, 18 pound, 27 inch-long movin’ and shakin’ Kayliana). We had such a good visit with them. Eric and I were roommates in college the year that we were Peer Ministers for the Newman Center. We’ve done a good job through the years staying in touch and having brief visits whenever those two jetsetters made a quick pass through Seattle. I’m very happy that now, with my Godmother duties, we will always stay close!

We went to the Capitol Square for the farmers’ market and by default participated in one of the near-constant anti-Wisconsin Governor Walker protests. I opted not to carry a sign or sign any petitions as I have a vague understanding of what all the hype is about.


We had a lovely time all in all, though it was TOO short and I definitely feel like we spent much of the weekend getting lost in Madison (a nice way to see the area though as we were constantly taking the scenic route). It was graduation weekend for the (other!) UW so streets were fairly bumpin’ plus there was a good amount of construction and road closures further complicating our travel.

It was also hard leaving Kayli for the first time. It didn’t help that when we drove up to mom and dad’s on Friday night, I put her to bed and she immediately began screaming her head off. Thankfully, Mike was able to settle her down or it would’ve been impossible to leave. We bid the boys farewell (who were literally jumping on the beds…and bouncing off the walls…good luck, mom and dad!) and drove back down to our house to drop off our car. Then dad would deposit us at the airport. Unbeknownst to some of us (due to some major miscommunication), Mike had assumed that we would be taking my parents’ van, so when moving car seats and kid stuff, he’d had the forethought to bring our luggage and put it in their trunk. It wasn’t until dad and I arrived in the NONvan that we all realized what had gone down. So, we started the trip with a quick turn-around (after getting gas), driving back UP to my parents to retrieve luggage before we could head DOWN to the airport. Oye. It was Friday the 13th afterall. OK, so if that was the biggest snaffoo with our travels, great! We still made it to the airport in plenty of time.

However, our flight home was a little more…interesting. Our flight out of Milwaukee was slightly delayed departing as there was a medical emergency on the next airplane and the fire truck and ambulance were parked under our wing. (How rude!). And then, once we were finally underway, we flew for about an hour when it became clear (by the flight attendants rushing up and down the aisle and the lack of beverage service) that something was up (and not just our plane). WE had a medical emergency on board. I don’t know the particulars but there was about a 150 year old woman needing medical attention near the front of the plane. Thankfully, there was a doctor on board who worked on her (and went through two tanks of oxygen) before it was determined that she needed more help than he could provide. I felt the plane starting to go down (as in descending not as in, “We’re goin’ down!!!”…that would’ve REALLY added to the excitement). The pilot came on and announced that we’d be making a “quick stop” in Billings, Montana to get the passenger the additional medical care that she needed. This “quick stop” took about an hour and a half what with trying to figure out how to get her into the wheelchair and then on to the gurney and then we had to get refreshed oxygen tanks and then they needed to refuel the plane and I’m pretty sure seeing as Billings is a wee small airport, we had to wait for the farmers to come in from the fields to do all of these tasks. I called Dad to let him know that our 10:10pm airport pick-up was now looking closer to 12-12:30am. Both parentals, when I’d checked in with them throughout the weekend, had sounded, hmmm, what shall we say? Slightly exhausted and more than ready to return our cranktastic offspring to us. I’m fairly certain that might be “busy” the next time we need extended childcare.

Finally, finally, we made it home after our pleasant short-yet-long weekend. Mike got a cold, Matthew got a haircut, Zach had a fit, Kayli cried a bit, and I got to read uninterrupted on our delayed flight! Yup, that about sums it up.

I don’t even have the words to explain how busy-yet-not we’ve been. I feel like our calendar is jam-packed and yet I spend days on end just ‘chilling’ at home: homeschooling Zachary, trying to get Kayliana on a routine nap schedule and trying to keep her outta jams. So, while I feel like I’m at home a lot, there’s just never enough time to get on top of things. (In addition to the standard stuff: my half marathon is just six weeks away so my training runs are getting longer; works been pretty bumpin’ for Mike; the boys have TBall practices and games every week; we are supposed to update all of our Engaged Encounter presentations; the yard is in DIRE need of some work, etc., etc.).

Kayliana has begun doing an inchworm-army crawl- face-plant scootch thing that has already proven tricky. She’s found herself under the coffee table, pinned up against a chair and one foot dangling near the railing above the stairs. So, needless-to-say furniture has been rearranged (to block all precarious cliffs) as has my life. Woah, shocking, right? A baby! Cramping your style? Shakin’ up your schedule? Causing extra work?!! Who knew?!

Besides the regular chaos, we spent this last weekend in sheer bliss. My dear friend Katherine (we met teaching nearly ten years ago) and her pixie-gorgeous-girl Grace (20 months old) came from California for a visit. Katherine and I are on a good run now of seeing each other in May (our joint birthday month). In 2008 she came here (Zachary was 2, Matthew 4). In 2009, after visiting family in Chicago she and I went to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin (she was preggo and her hubby Dan was in Iraq at the time). Last year, I visited them in Monterey (and hung out briefly with Clint Eastwood in Carmel). Rainy Seattle is no match for Carmel-by-the-Sea, but she and cutie pants Grace were still willing to see us all and meet Kayli. We spent the weekend mostly just hanging out, getting caught up, and playing with the kiddos. We had a dance party, went to the zoo, went on a run, ate delicious food and drank delicious wine…you know, the usual quiet weekend stuff.

I must say that the boys were ridiculously cute with Grace. In the car, on the way to the airport, Zachary asked me what Grace looks like. I went on and on about how she’s this little sweet pixie of a girl; kind of like Tinkerbell but WAY cuter. After saying this, Zach could not keep the grin off his face. I told him that he better be careful ‘cuz Grace is AWFULLY cute and what if someday he wants to marry her instead of Kayliana’s bff Veronica..?! Zach shook his head and said, “No, Mom. You KNOW that that would make Rebecca [Veronica’s mom] totally WAY mad.” True. Besides, Grace is already betrothed to a little buddy named Peter. Who knew that the 21st century would be all about the arranged marriages?!

Sadly, I deposited Katherine and Grace at the airport on Sunday evening with the promise of having a future destination birthday meet-up. Hawaii, perhaps? (We can dream, right?)

This upcoming weekend, Mike and I – always the jet-setters  – fly off to another destination: Madison, Wisconsin. We get to leave the kiddos (all three!!) with the parentals and leave on a red eye Friday night, returning home Sunday evening. We are so looking forward to spending quality (yet brief!) time with Eric and Mebbie – good friends from college – and their newborn daughter Emma (our Goddaughter as of Sunday at the Baptism). I’m so excited to see them, to meet her and to get to Godparent for the first time!

As usual, I’m not too pumped about the flying part (eh, doesn’t bother me that much unless there’s turbulence, then I keep a puke bag handy), but I’m TOTALLY thrilled to be in the airport – my number one favorite place to people-watch. I can’t wait!

One thing that’s awesome about being a parent is getting to break rules – like even your own rules. (For example: one rule I break as a RULE – as in without fail, I don’t let myself down; I BREAK this rule – is treats in the morning, for breakfast. As a kid, if you ask your parental unit if you can have candy before breakfast they will scoff in your face and look at you with regret like, “hmmm, maybe I did drop you on your head when you were a baby.” Well, now, I start EVERY single morning, with my coffee and a piece of dark chocolate. It’s like I’m laughing in the face of rules. Ha! Take that RULES. I’m such a rebel!). Another fun aspect of parenting is doing the things that you said, “I will never….” (Like, I’ll never the answer question “why?” with “because I said so.” Dude. I’ve TOTALLY pulled that line out). And really, deep down, when you say, “I’ll never…” you kinda know that there’s a REALLY good chance you’re just setting yourself up for some future failure/rule breakage.

So, I have always said that “I will never have a kids’ birthday party at a big crazy birthday party-type place.” I’m eating those words. I totally caved. I blame parental guilt. For some reason, we only have birthday parties approximately every four (or more) years for our children, so since this was the 5th for Zachary, it was high time we celebrate in style. The ONLY thing he wanted for his birthday party was getting to have it at one of those big ‘ol cheesy family fun centers ‘o chaos. So, I gave in. Zach, Matthew and several of their boy buddies partied there on Saturday. It was noisy, it was bumpin’, it was chaotic and they had so much fun.

We had started the day with excitement: first ever TBall team pictures (then back home for an hour), first ever TBall game.(then back home for an hour) and then came the birthday party. Needless-to-say, the kids CRASHED Saturday night from all-funned-out-exhaustion.

I’m happy that it all went well but I was even happier when it was over. I can honestly say, I will NEVER ever have a kids’ birthday party at a big place ever again (…for at least the next four-five years.)

[P.S. Check out the enormous spit-bubble-of-joy on Kayliana’s chin!]

Five years ago today I gave birth to a gorgeous little baby boy. Zachary James has not ceased to enthrall and entertain us since his dramatic entrance into the world (took seven weeks of bed rest and yet he still just wanted to crash the party early).

Zach wanted to go to bed early last night so that his birthday would arrive sooner.

All of this birthday-talk had Matthew (who has been home sick with a cough and fever all week) reminiscing about his. I asked him if he recalled his 6th and 7th birthdays. Both days, he cried when he realized that he felt no different; he didn’t “feel six” or “feel seven.” It was very disappointing. I said that maybe this year – on his eighth – he’d be mentally prepared (to feel no different).

As I said this I saw Matthew’s eyes beginning to well up. “I don’t like having birthdays,” he wailed. “I mean, I like the presents but it means each year I’m getting older…and (sniff sniff)…closer….(sniffle-sob-snort)…closer to dying!”

He literally wept, shoulders shaking with the injustice of aging and the slow march towards our imminent end.

I tried to pump him up about the whole heaven-place, but to no avail. He apparently feels completely betrayed by God by the fact that he won’t have his toys and house and all his STUFF. It’s like the whole heaven thing is totally lame due to the lack of favorite possessions and he wants none of it.

I comforted him to the best of my ability (though honestly, he was fairly inconsolable about it).
Later, at bed time Zach was eagerly anticipating this morning’s arrival.

“So, Zachary,” I cautioned, “You know that just because you’re turning five tomorrow doesn’t mean that you’ll necessarily feel any different.” I figure that maybe I can learn from the trauma of my first born to help number two.

“Yes I will!” Zach exclaimed. “I’m totally gonna feel super five.”

Matthew looked at me exasperated, shook his head and said, “I already tried warning him, Mom.” Zach’s a lost cause.

So, this morning after singing Happy Birthday, I offered to put a candle in his selected birthday breakfast (cereal – the boy’s a creature of habit and a cereal addict, what can I say?). Zach laughed and scoffed that this was a very dangerous idea.

After a few moments, I decided to just face the potential ugly awaiting us head on. “Do you feel different Zach? Do you feel five?”

Zach grinned and nodded, “Yup, I totally feel five.”

Matthew glared groggily across the table at his brother and shook his head in disbelief.

“So, what’s it feel like?” I asked.

“It feels like I’m five...and funnier."

We just returned home from a great trip to Spokane for Easter with some of Mike’s fam. I’m SO happy to say that an Easter miracle really did occur for our crew – ZERO PUKING. I repeat: we were a puke-free people for four days which included 12 hours of driving, a decent amount of Easter candy and Matthew getting a cold (which nearly always leads to vomiting in itself). Jesus is risen; the tomb is empty AND the puke bucket is empty too! Seriously – the road trip could not have gone better. Kayliana was even great about being in the car for that long!

The boys (and Kayli) were thrilled to see Nana (Aunt Dolores), Uncle Harry and Mike’s sister Jamie and hubby Dan. The biggest disaster of the weekend was Matthew, taking Dan’s RC car for a spin and immediately driving it into (REAL) oncoming traffic. Thank God that the only car that got in an accident – sorry, Dan – was the tiny passenger-less car. Dan said that he’d be able to repair it at the auto body shop (er, the hobby shop). But from this experience, we’ve decided that Matthew will never ever EVER get to borrow anyone’s car, including ours.

Staying in a hotel is apparently nearly as exciting as a trip to Disneyland. The kids were so ridiculously excited about it that on Sunday night they were already lamenting that it would be the last night there. Zach said it went too fast and felt like we’d only stayed in the hotel for “ZERO NIGHTS.” The pool was also a fun hotel bonus. Mike took the boys on Saturday while I got Kayli ready for her first EVER dip in a pool (and first time in a swim diaper, bathing suit…) it was all super thrilling until she experienced the pool (which WAS on the cooler side) and decided that she wanted nothing to do with it. After 30 seconds in the pool, she proceeded to cling to me like a tree frog for the next few minutes until I took her back to the room. She did look awfully cute though lounging by the poolside. (Sucking her fingers for emotional support and digging her fingernails into my shoulder lest I even THINK about dipping her toes back into that weird freakishly-enormous, terrifying bathtub place-of-torture).

Playing Easter Bunny in a hotel room is definitely a tricky business for which one must take precautions. It really didn’t help, either, that the boys were so wound up about our first night in the hotel; they were awake for WAY too long. I’d planned ahead for this important mission and had brought my headlamp. I laid in bed reading my book waiting and waiting and waiting for the boys to settle in and go to sleep. Eventually they did but only after I’d dosed off several times and woken up in a panic thinkin that I’d somehow slept all night and missed the Easter Bunny window. Bunny duties were fulfilled and I finally got to go to sleep around 11:30.

(I feel as though this next section does deserve its own title.)

KAYLIANA’S WARDROBE
On Thursday, the mailman delivered a package. It was from my brother Timothy and his wife Rebecca. It was pretty much happy-magic in a box. The contents included a very nice gift card for the boys, a pair of ruffley-topped socks, lacey tights, two flower headbands and not one, not two, but three GORGEOUS frilly-froofy Easter-y dresses for Kayliana. I did seriously consider that Easter Sunday could be like the Oscars and that Kayli would have several outfit changes, but in the end, we did choose one of the dresses. (It was a major discussion, let me tell you). I was a little worried about our choice when I saw a two year old girl in the same exact dress at church. You know, I didn’t want Kayli to have to be in People Magazine’s “Who Wore it Better?” (She totally would’ve won though), and it’s SO awkward to be wearing the same exact dress as another woman – er, girl, er, toddler – but both girls handled it beautifully.

Kayli was an angel during church (as usual). But by the end, I knew that she was in need of a diaper change and a bottle. I wanted a family picture before we got all normalized and spitty-up-y and dirty and stuff. The passing-by Monseigneur decided to join our picture. Unfortunately, Kayli had used up her angelic in church and the second the priest said hi to her she started to howl. So, sadly, that’s her look for our family portrait. We got some better ones of just us girls after she’d eaten. Food makes everything better.

Speaking of food, upon our return from Spokane, we let the boys help Kayli experience her first ever bit of “solids” (ridiculously runny rice cereal). She’s a bit dubious yet, but she’ll be an eating champ in no time.

I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised that one of my children is the kid on the t-ball team who is WAY more interested in digging in the dirt than playing ball. He gets upset when we leave for t-ball practice and bring bats, mitts, and balls rather than shovels and pails. (Go figure. We’re nuts, I know). This would be Zachary. He seems to be the anti-t-ball t-ball player. Obviously, we’re having them play t-ball for the experience (learning the game), the fun (being a part of a team), the exercise (it is a sport, after all). We don’t have any major league dreams…though we wouldn’t argue should one day, we find ourselves, looking back and laughing at our sand-digging t-ball player who now plays (then-now, as in the future) professional major league baseball and pays for his parents’ early retirement. This trip down memory lane will all happen, mind you, while we sit on the deck of a yacht in the Mediterranean. No, we don’t have any lofty goals, I swear. 

Mike and I watched as Zachary – who was manning second base – put his mitt on his head and began spinning on one leg. Holding the mitt in place on his noggin he looked like a…

“Maybe we should’ve signed him up for ballet,” Mike says, reading my thoughts.

“Or not,” Mike quickly adds as Zach had spun himself to dizziness and fell on his butt in the sand.

The next Zach Moment was watching our nonviolent child trying to shove the runner off of second base. (Zach later responded with, “I was supposed to be second base, not him!” We explained that it’s actually the runner who should get to have a foot on the base most of the time and Zach would need to do a better job of sharing his space).

The coach was tossing grounders to the kids having them “alligator” their hand and glove to get the ball. Zach went after groundballs by squatting, mitt on the ground at the ready and then lazily watching as the ball rolled past him, seemingly unable to mentally process the fact that the ball will not automatically roll directly into his mitt. Coach, Mike and I all yell encouraging and enthusiastic words of, “Go get it, Zach!!” When Zach finally goes after the ball it’s often in a creative way – a Russian dancer-type squat-walk, and then he’d occasionally try to the throw the ball in a clever way (head hung upside down, etc.). Somebody’s gotta do something.

When it was Zach’s turn to bat up at the Tee, he proceeded to hit the T rather than the ball – quickly realizing that instead of being an embarrassing situation the whole team of 5-7 year old boys laughs hysterically every time someone does this…so why would you bother wasting your time up there by hitting the ball when you can crack everyone up?

And then when it was Zach’s turn to run to base what’d he do? (After WEEKS of the kids practicing running the bases and calling out, “First! Second! Third! Fourth…no wait, Home!”). Zach decides to take a short cut and runs straight to second.

Then again, one of the boys’ teammates decided to just pick up first base and take it with him as he ran towards second, so I suppose Zach fits right in! Our first game ought to be VERY interesting. I can’t wait!

Read all the details below!

It’s really way bugging me that my blogging schedule right now is approximately every other week. That is unacceptable and it just does not sit well with me. And sure enough, because it’s been a while, I’ve got lots to say. So, I plan on using my good ‘ol bullet-points technique. (Although it’s safe to say that each bullet-point will have quite a bit of wordage before the next bullet-point presents itself. And actually I don’t like how the bullet-points thing automatically indents everything so I will actually number and title topics for clarification). Here goes:

1.) MIDDLE SCHOOL REUNION. Way back on Friday, March 18th, I hosted a reunion of my closest friends from the days of yore and yesteryear (middle school – ahh yes, those tumultuous puberty-hormone stricken, preteen angst-filled years. Thank goodness for these girls). We had so much fun together – back then and now! A couple of the ladies have little offspring of their own now (all girl-types thus far). So, I had warned Zachary that there would be a few 2ish and under girls rippin’ around here. Apparently this news was just too much to handle and a meltdown of emotion burst forth.

“But, Mommmmm,” he wailed, “They will ruin everything and make such a mess and I will have to clean it up…I always have to clean it up. And they’ll break stuff. And I just…I just…I just don’t have time for this!!!” Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you had a busy agenda and that this just really doesn’t work with your pressing schedule. I talked Zach down – reassuring him that any mess the little girls made, I would help eradicate after their departure. I also convinced him that it might be wise to move some of the things that he really wouldn’t want little hands playing with – completed Lego completions, Playmobil knight/castle pieces, etc. We worked through his pain together.

A few days later, we were talking about labor (as in having a baby). Just in a general sense: that Rebecca would be going into labor soon. Zachary – as always when he hears a word he’s not familiar with – asked what the word labor means. Mike replied, “Labor is REALLY hard work.”

And, as usual, our vocabulary whiz, quickly utilized his new word in a sentence. “Oh, yeah,” Zachary said, “My WHOLE life is labor.” Yes, he has a VERY tough existence.

Anyway, when my middle school friends and the couple of little girls arrived, Zach soon realized that 2ish and under kids can be fairly fun! Though he did, at one point, try to rip a box out of little Wynter’s hands because it had little knight/army guys in it that are “VERY CHOKABLE!” (Yes, I’m sure he was only concerned about her safety and not his own desire to keep his toys intact).

My friend Erica’s husband Eerik was brave enough to face all of us ladies. At one point, Zach suddenly realized that he was the only boy-type in the room…and then he saw Eerik. Zach went over to him and nonchalantly said, “So, who are you?”

Eerik responded, “I’m Eerik. I’m Wynter’s dad.”

“So, do you want to look at Where’s Waldo?” Zach asked. And from that point on the two men were pals. Whenever Zach needed a break from the girls he would go over to Eerik for conversation and male bonding with Where’s Waldo. They huddled in their little testosterone corner – strength in numbers – while the rest of us girls gabbed away.

2.) T-BALL. It has happened. It’s begun. We’ve become one of those families whose lives revolve around a sports team practice and team schedule. We’re slaves to the calendar. But it’s actually VERY exciting to be marching down, for the first time, this path of team sports! Initially, we only had Zach signed up for T-Ball. After talking to other parents about it at the bus stop, I was given the clear impression that it was ‘too late’ for Matthew’s baseball career. That ship had sailed. At the 7-8 year old level, baseball is already highly competitive and try-out based. Ewww. We had waited to sign Matthew up – knowing that we were missing the T-Ball age – because we just didn’t feel he was ready emotionally for team sports. He’s a sensitive big boy and we weren’t sure that he would’ve handled it well. And now, when we’d really wanted to sign him up, our dreams of Major League offspring were shattered.

Thankfully, Zachary’s T-Ball coach is the embodiment of awesomeness. Mike played catch with Matthew during the team practice while Matthew glumly watched the kids play racing games around the bases and practice catching and throwing. After that first practice I was chatting with Coach and Coach’s Wife. I mentioned that we were basically told that it was too late for Matthew – that the kids at his age level have all been playing for a few years already. Coach insisted that that was hooey and how dare these parents dash our dreams of sports stardom. He would talk to the league and see if Matthew could join Zach’s team – the Cubs. Sure enough, at Saturday’s practice we found out that Matthew could play!!

So, yes, he’s a little bigger than the other kids, and yes, he’s a little better than most of the kids, but it’s a perfect way for him to finally get that team sport experience while learning the basics of baseball. Plus, there’s just no way I could handle having two kids on two different teams with four different baseball events a week. Oye! Since I’m sure this is the only year we can get away with having them on the same team, future seasons will be tough. Basically, we’ll see which kid is better at the end of this season and then we’ll put all of our baseball-dreams on him. No pressure. (You know I’m kidding right?)

3.) THE ZOO. On Saturday, we went to the zoo with Kayliana’s birth mom (Mia) and her mom (Norah). It was wonderful seeing both of them. Mia hasn’t seen Kayli since New Year’s (so Kayli was 6 weeks old) and Norah hasn’t seen Kayli since we picked her up (at 2 days old). You can imagine that they couldn’t get over how big Kayli is now. (And, of course, the second comment we get is how much hair she has).

The outing was great. The boys were well behaved (Norah even commented on that fact)! And it was so good to see Mia. She’s doing very well and starts classes at community college today. I was able to find out a few facts about Mia as a baby (so who knows if this will carry over to Kayliana). She was an early crawler and an early talker (and hasn’t stopped since, her mom reported). And Mia – who now has very thick, black curly hair – had the same kind of hair as Kayli. Then when she was about 3 it turned coarse and curly. So, we’ll see…

4.) THE MIRACLE. A week ago today I was very, very tired. Not as tired as our best friends Jason and Rebecca though. A week ago today, Rebecca had a baby, and I got to be there. A new addition joined our clan. (They’re the ones also with two boys – Joshua and Noah. We camp together. We celebrate birthdays, holidays, life together. We’re the Clan). For several months we’d been preparing Kayliana because, you see, Jason and Rebecca are the torturous types who don’t want to find out what they’re having until the baby’s born. So, we’ve been mentally preparing Kayliana. You know, letting her know that the baby in Auntie Rebecca’s tummy was either another husband option or her best friend.

For as long as I live I will never forget that moment in the hospital room. Rebecca’s mom and I were hugging each other and crying when the doctor announced, “It’s a girl!!!!!” I didn’t get to be at the birth of my own daughter but I got to be at the birth of Rebecca’s, and that is a gift for which I will forever be grateful. Veronica Margaret is a beautiful perfect little lady and already the girls have gotten along smashingly well. 

When Zachary got to meet Veronica on Thursday, we (Rebecca and I) said something to the effect of, “And, Zach, this is your wife Veronica.”

“Why is she my wife?” Zach asked.

“Because your parents gave us three goats,” Jason replied. (I don’t recall any exchange of livestock happening…yet).

When Zach got home he said, “Matthew! Guess who I got to meet today!...my wife, Veronica. And I’m going to marry her ‘cuz she’s very cute!”

Like any discipline (eating healthfully, meditation, exercise), blogging is hard to get back to when I’ve had some time off. I’ve taken time off for a couple of reasons: laziness (I’ve been sleeping in on my writing mornings because I’ve started adding to my running mornings which means more mornings of getting up at 5:45 which therefore means on my non-run mornings – even with the enticement of cathartic-creative-writing time – I have a hard time dragging my butt outta bed) and the other reason is…well, kind of also laziness but more overwhelmedness. We’ve left the honeymoon period. Obviously we’re still just as in love with Kayliana as ever (duh), but things have gotten a bit harder. She’s not a newborn anymore – she doesn’t sleep all day; she’s going through MAJOR separation anxiety with me and gets all kinds of massive-upset if I leave the room; she’s not a fan of lying on the floor by herself for playtime/tummy time; she’s not on a nap schedule (though we’re trying to work on it); after a while she gets tired of the exersaucer and bouncy seat so I wear her in the frontpack carrier which makes getting anything done pretty laborious and tricky, and she’s ridiculously terrified of the vacuum cleaner. Basically, this all adds up to one thing: a messy/dirty/cluttered house that is the bane of my existence and causes chaos in my soul.

It’s funny: there’s a divide in my life. Two extremes. A handful of people closest to me judge the cleanliness of my house and make (loving) comments of how I should really spend some time dusting. They ask casual conversational questions like “so, when was the last time you washed windows?” And then there’s the other group (Mike included) who think that I have way too high of standards and the house is perfectly fine and not anywhere near a state of squalor. I wish I could side with this latter more lax group, but the fact of the matter is: the cleanliness/clutteriness of our home really does affect how I’M feeling.

So, it has come to this: Mike has offered that we hire someone to come in once or twice a month to help with the cleaning (OK, by ‘help’ I mean this person would DO the cleaning…we’d have a house cleaner; I just can’t bring myself to say those words). I have such a hard time – as many of us do – admitting that I need help, especially with something that I feel is MY job, my responsibility and this whole, “I’m a stay-at-home mom, it’s what I do, we aren’t both working full-time, I SHOULD be able to keep my house clean!” attitude. Back in my postpartum depression days, my therapist called this “should-ing all over yourself.” I’m a really good should-er! And then, I should so much and I pile on guilt too that there’s a huge pile of bull-should that we all have to avoid stepping in. That’s definitely a mess NO ONE wants to clean up! So, now I’m in the search of basically trying to find a clone of me so that I can have a little help to maintain sanity. No luck, thus far and I keep putting off the search though it’s really something that I should do…

Apparently I was kidding myself. I wasn’t ACTUALLY a REAL genu-ine parent until last night. I guess it is impressive that I’ve been a parent for EXACTLY seven years, six months and four days and that I’ve never had to do this. At long last, I finally experienced the ultimate initiation rite in the wee hours of the morning. Kayliana – our healthy, robust (said with a rolled r) little baby girl has finally caved and joined us in the sickness we’ve been swapping around for the last week. First Zach had it, then Matthew REALLY had it (missed four days of school). Then I got it and spent part of the weekend in a fever-induced trance on the couch. And, alas, Kayli succumbed to the germ nastiness, at 2:40 this morning, she had a fever – the ultimate in sick-kidness (next to vomiting, of course).

Let me set the scene: it was a dark and stormy night. Literally. As I pulled on the requisite parental uniform for the middle-of-the-night-we-need-infant-fever-reducing-medicine-dash-to-the-drugstore – sweats and a baseball cap – I listened to the rain on the roof. It sounded like a rowdy crowd of sports-goers, stomping their excitement against metal bleachers. It was POURING. I heard the wind pick-up and the erratic clanging of the neighbors’ wind chimes. Awesome. Mike sat groggily rocking fussy Kayli and I bid him adieu as I went out into the storm. (Yes, I’m playing up the drama here). I unhitched Chestnut to ride to town for the doc- Oh, right. Thank God, this ISN’T Little House on the Prarie-days. I turned up the heat in our Honda CRV, cranked up the windshield wipers (front AND back) and listened to the BBC broadcast on NPR to stay awake. Life IS tough.

It took three stores and forty-five minutes before I returned home with the much-needed Infant Tylenol. Thankfully traffic was light (no surprise)! And what did I come home to? The miserable, fever-stricken, stuffy baby sleeping soundly in her crib. Mike – back in our bed, in a deep sleep. I reassured myself that it was still worth the run to the store. Chances were good that Kayli would wake up again in need of the fever-reducing meds that I had so valiantly collected. I collapsed into bed and tried to not mentally write this blog post, shut off my brain and fall asleep. I’m sure Kayli will wake up any moment…

Nope. She slept the rest of the night. I could’ve waited until daylight to go to the store like most normal people. And then, when I took her temperature again this morning and phoned the doctor, I was told that a 101F fever is not medicine-worthy. We’ve got to wait until 102 to give her anything. So, really, the best case scenario is that my rescue mission was a big fat, middle-of-the-night, extraneous exhausting field trip and that we don’t need the drugs at all! But at least, now that I’ve experienced the depths-of-night-buttcrack-of-dawn children meds-run I feel I’ve truly earned the title of a true, 100%, Neurotic, Paranoid, Bona Fide Care-Giving Parent. Where’s my badge?

Maybe the third time’s the charm or maybe it’s just Kayliana, but I feel that – to a certain extent – we understand her needs fairly well. For example: when she’s fussy, I pick her up, put her on against my chest and shoulder and bounce AND sway and SHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh right into her ear. Sometimes if I pause – you know, to breathe (the nerve!) – the fussing picks up again. Thankfully, my years of flute playing and breathing exercises are paying off. The Shhhhh-ing has worked nearly every time without fail (though sometimes it takes a while and a lot of shhhh-uage on my part to actually succeed. Also, we’ve learned that a sudden high pitched cry means she’s experiencing gas pain (which is when Mike the Gas-Master works his magic). My favorite secret cue that we’ve unsleuthed (unsleuthed really SHOULD be a word) is that when Kayli’s nose gets red (the bottom, nostril area) it means that she’s going to spit up. Apparently my brother Tim had a similarly random cue – he would get a bright red spot on the middle of his forehead indicating the need to burp. I wonder if he still gets it.

Things that Kayli does NOT care for: watching me walk away (I have to sneak out of the room); tummy time; lying on her back time (while awake) for too long (she really is an ‘upright’ baby which may prove difficult for the whole learning to crawl thing…which I’m not ready for anyway!); the vacuum cleaner; she hates a cold bottle (spits it all up and cries through most of the feeding – this makes taking a bottle to feed her at the park difficult. If we’re away from home long enough it eventually cools down/gets cold even in the bottle holder bag); Kayli’s a great running partner – she fusses if I stop to chat with a neighbor or to tie my shoes; often she’s not a fan of the car seat…until it starts moving (occasionally she’ll start fussing at every red light. I will admit that this has caused me to drive through a couple of very stale yellow-close to orange lights. I have every intention of playing the “fussy baby card” with an officer should I have to).

Things that Kayli DOES enjoy: being swaddled (she wakes up if she Houdini’s her way out of her sleep sac – this girl may be swaddled until she’s 18 at which point she’ll have to teach her college roommate how to do it for her); watching her brothers; the orange rattle thing on her exersaucer (she tells it all sorts of interesting stories); she LOVES riding in the front-pack carrier (I really do wear her around like an accessory most days especially in the ‘Witching Hour’ while I’m trying to make dinner); she loves chatting post-diaper change on the changing table (we have some of our best heart-to-hearts there); she loves her crib mobile (courtesy of uncle Chris) – it’s fancy-shmancy with lights and four different song options; she loves sporting a bib constantly (actually that’s more of a necessity as she is a CONSTANT drool machine and she’s not even teething yet!); unfortunately, she’s already a fan of the TV and keeps her eyes glued on the changing colors during our weekly family movie night (though she does occasionally get kicked out of the ‘theater’ for making too much noise); she loves it when I help her clap – cracks her up every time; she grins from ear-to-ear when I sing to her (even if she’s close to falling asleep post-bottle – she’ll give me a half-drunk grin).

OK, I’m realizing that the things that Kayliana enjoys far outnumber her dislikes and that I could go on and on, so I’ll just end with this one: I’m fairly certain, what with her birthday just before the holiday season, that Kayliana enjoys it nearly as much as I do. (Plus her first big, hearty belly laugh and squeal came during our annual Camp Christmas staycation, so that’s an indication right there). Really, in this house, you have no choice but to be a Christmas fanatic. She fits right in!

The week in pictures! Snowy sleepover fun with the Clan boys -- Joshua & Noah.

Kayliana LOVES playing in her exersaucer. And a nice mullet shot. The plan is to give her Haircut #1 when she turns four months old (March 15th).

Zachary somehow managed to squeeze into Kayli's puffy vest. He kinda got stuck in it and needed assistance to get out.

So much for getting back into the routine after Midwinter Break! Matthew made it to school on Monday and then has stayed home sick every day since then. I seem to be getting the cold now too but so far it’s not too bad. I did manage to get out of the house three evenings in a row though (much needed outings from the sick-house). I went for runs on Tuesday and Thursday when Mike got home from work and on Wednesday, my parentals and brother came over to hold down the fort while Mike and I went out with the young adult group at church. Good times.

So, a very funny thing happened on my runs this week. I’m sure this has happened before and I just didn’t notice it. And I’m sure that Mike could explain the physics of why and how this happened, but I don’t really want to know – it was just very cool. On one stretch of my run, I happened to be very aware of my running shadow sprinting (that’s right!) on the ground in front of me thanks to the many streetlamps I passed. For whatever reason (the angle, my immense speed), I noticed that every once in a while, there would be TWO of my running shadows and then all of a sudden the second place, slower shadow would speed up and catch the first place shadow and they would melt into just one shadow. This was kind of the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. I tried to get all deep about it – what did this all mean? Was I running with myself? Against myself? Watching two halves of my running self unify into one made me wonder if there have been aspects of me missing that are finally (thanks to running frequently again – which IS my therapy) reuniting. Woah, man. Heavy stuff.

Nothing. I couldn’t come up with anything cool or deep about it. I just enjoyed trying to chase my shadows and watching which one was going to win. We finished together. A tie. In the end, we’re all winners, my friends. Yeah. Deep.

I’m struggling with something. Am I special? Am I really that different from all the other wanna-be writerly types?! It’s not writer’s block that I get. It’s something worse. It’s the fear of it all being kind of pointless. I’m not saying that I write only with the goal of someday being paid for it (yes, this is ideal and it sure would be nice, but I realize that this only happens to about .01% of “writers”); I write with the goal of providing something that is worth reading. When I start to wonder if I “have what it takes,” I stop before I’ve even really begun. The more research I do, the more I feel that it really is all a bit trite and meaningless. Of course I DO get enjoyment out of it (or I wouldn’t do it), but I really don’t JUST do it for myself. I hope to provide a ‘lil somethin’ somethin’ to my fellow humanoids. BUT…

It’s all been written, thought of, said. There are already a gajillion mom-lit-type blogs out there offering the same self-deprecating humor/joie de vivre that is sometimes present round these here parts. There are already memoirs published that are funnier-slash-more-touching-slash-more-moving than mine ever would/will be. There’s even a children’s book out there that totally jacked an idea that I’ve been sitting on for twenty years. (I still have the original story that I wrote in fifth grade. I’ve never forgotten this idea. I’ve tucked it in my: when I Have Time to Write Children’s’ Books file. I’ve just started dusting the file off and WAZAMMY some stupid author – who already has plenty of books so why did he have to steal my idea?! – TOTALLY stole it! The buttface).

So, what do I have to offer that is unique? They say write what you know. What the heck do I know?! Half the time I look around like a babysitter twiddling my thumbs wondering when the real parents are going to come home and clean this house and take care of these whiney kids! Seriously, where ARE they?! I don’t know much about parenting so I really shouldn’t write about that. I do fear a little bit that any time the whole mother-parenting topic comes up, I'm way too quick (and ALWAYS) the first to start the boo-hoo, woah-is-me, this is tough-as-poop dialogue. While most do join in (maybe just to make me feel better) I do think I'm a pretty good whiner about this reoccuring theme: Why is my life so hard when isn't this exactly the life I always wanted? And: I always wanted to be a wife/mother, why the heck am I not better at it?!! Most days I feel awesome if I think MAYBE we made it through without any situations that will be brought up in therapy years down the road. Again, with the woah is me. Who wants to read someone else’s belly-achin’? We have enough belly aches of our own to work through. So, back to what I can and SHOULD write.

I have a completed middle-grade chapter novel. Awesome. Yay me. Hoo-Ra. It has sat in my documents lonely and abandoned for going on two years now. I got half way through my second draft and then life kicked me in the buttocks with a whole National EE Convention to co-chair and a whole adoption process to begin and a whole lot of excuse-cards to play. I have 376 pages (which would be a 750ish page novel!) chronically my adventures in hospital bed resting [sounds boring, yeah?], the plague of postpartum depression [uplifting, no?], my journey through therapy [narcissistic, anyone?], life with children [wow! It’s like no one has ever parented before!], etc. I’ve run a marathon (so have A LOT of really sore, crazy people!). I flew on a flight/exact airplane that crashed two weeks later – TWA Flight 800 (again, lots of people have that ‘near death/what if’ story). I majored in French (which I never to rarely speak) and spent time in France (hmmm, there’s a whole country of people that know more about that than I do). I spent my wedding night in the ER (I’m sure there are support groups for this somewhere). I’m married to a man who had Hodgkins Lymphoma twice in six years (pretty rare, actually. Go Mike!). Then with the pregnancies: being told you’re having a daughter and having a surprise well-endowed little boy (wouldn’t change him for the world, fyi). Spending seven weeks in the hospital on bed rest (in terms of bed rest, I had it easy. Some women lounge for MONTHS). Had two preemies and went through the NICU experience (awful, wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, but again, our 5-weeks-early boys were little champs; people have it WAY worse). Went through the adoption process and pretty much hit the jackpot (there are TONS of books and blogs on the trials and tribulations of adoption)….You see, I could go on about the things that supposedly make me unique yet have already been covered by many others.

So, if you had the forethought to throw on your pity-party mukluks and you were strong enough to slop through that pool of depressing outburst – good work! I promise that the moment of self-doubt and negative scrutiny has passed…for now. Let’s just get back to what we do DO best (and yes, sometimes that IS doo-doo): talking about my life!  And for now, in this moment, my life is good. My life is awesome. We had family movie night. I had a glass of cheap (but decent) Merlot. The entire family gathered around to hear baby giggles which resulted in lots of little boy giggles (the happiest sounds on earth). I held Kayliana and watched the beautiful falling snow as it piled up on our fence, our street, the trees, the roof. And then I finished off the evening with a square of dark chocolate and a VERY self-indulgent and satisfying blog-session. Thank you very much.

Kayliana rocked her first pony-tail today...it's a bit Bam-Bam (a la Flinstones fame) and would look fitting with a bone stuck through it. She was mildly amused.

We had a pretty spectacular event this weekend – Kayliana was baptized at church on Sunday. In the morning, as we pulled everything together to leave I heard Matthew giving Kayli a pep-talk. In his highest, baby-squeaky voice he explained, “You’re going to have a very special shower today! Yes, you are! At church, you’re getting baptized and it’s like a shower!” I clarified that it was a little more like a bath with some water-dumping involved, but I liked where his head was at.

I’ve always enjoyed the baby-baptisms at church, but I have to say this one was by far the most special for us. It felt like the final step in officially welcoming Kayliana into our family. We are friends with our priest, Father Bryan, have known him since college and he’s been so supportive as we’ve gone through the adoption process, so it was just very cool having him baptize Kayliana for us. It was touching as we felt so loved and supported by our family and all the friends who came to be celebrate with us. And it was especially wonderful watching our best friends become even more like part of the family. Jason and Rebecca are now Kayliana’s Godparents which means that I totally hold them responsible for Kayliana’s soul.  Phew! What a relief – I’m not in this alone!

When it was time, Mike helped Kayli sit in the font and then Father Bryan poured water over her head. She handled it like a champ. As the dripping, sopping, all baptizedisized Kayli was handed to Godmother Rebecca, Zach said, “See, Kayli, that wasn’t so bad was it?!”

Father Bryan enjoys parading the kiddos around the church for everyone to see and welcome. It’s pretty cute and funny – reminding me of dog shows when the fancy poodles are paraded around the ring. Everyone ooh’s and ahh’s over their cuteness while applauding politely. Kayliana did great being shown off to the packed house until Father Bryan handed her back to Mike and THEN she decided to fall apart. She continued to cry until I’d taken her out and changed her into her little white-Easter-y dress at which point she conked out and slept through the rest of Mass. All in all, she was (and, of course IS) an angel.

Later as we celebrated with family and friends at the house, I felt, yet again, another moment of peace with this process. Bringing Kayliana home from the hospital, finalizing her adoption at the courthouse and then baptizing her – each event has provided me with a huge sigh-of-relief moment, and I’m so grateful to have appreciated them all and that really, now, we can TOTALLY 100% say that she is OURS. (Happy. Happy. Sigh.)

I would like to file a complaint against the maker of Zachary’s Movie Show-er. At 2 o’clock this morning (2:14, to be exact), Zach called out to me in a fear-quivering voice, “Mommy? Mommy!...Even though I have my new Movie Show-er there’s still scary stuff playing and I’m afraid.” This was followed by the rapid dismount from his bed and scurried footsteps across the floor. Zach spent the rest of the night in our bed.

It’s fitting – what with Valentine’s Day in less than a week – that our house should suddenly become a total mushy love fest (like more than normal). There’s a lot more kissing happening ‘round these parts. Obviously, Kayliana’s cheeks constantly scream for smooches – that’s a given; especially now that she’s all smiley and coo-ey and the occasional kiss gets that kind of reaction (the other kisses are just accepted with lukewarm boredom). But the majority of the other kisses are between Mike and me. (And why am I telling you about this? Hold on, this isn’t TMI, just hang in there.) Thanks – unfortunately – to the influence and peer pressure of first grade boys, Matthew has been brainwashed into thinking that all kissing is “totally gross.” He has, of course, shared this opinion with his brother, so now Zachary, too, is on the anti-kiss bandwagon. So, what are we doing about it? We’re kissing a lot. And holding them down and smothering their little cheeks and faces in kisses as well. We’ve got to prove a point that the more anti-kiss you are in this here house, the more kisses you’ll be seeing and receiving. Best – as a member of this family – to just accept kissing as part of the torture; it’s just a part of life here. Get used to it. Yesterday morning, Matthew told me in hushed tones that he had a very bad dream. So bad, in fact, that he wouldn’t tell me about it. I’ll admit it kinda freaked me out. What was his dream?! Was someone killed or hurt? Was he the bad guy in the dream? What the heck happened?! I kept reassuring him that no matter what, he could talk to me about it. He wasn’t going to be in trouble for a dream he had – something that he couldn’t control. But no, he just could not bring himself to tell me about it, and he left for school all distraught about this awful dream. Which left me all sorts of distraught too. The moment he got off the school bus and walked up to me, with his head hung, he said, “I’m ready to talk about my dream now.” Avoiding eye contact, Matthew mumbled that in his dream there was a row of police. And two rows of people (he didn’t know who any of the people were). “And, well, um, there was something kinda gross.” Matthew said. Steadying myself, I encouraged, “That’s OK. What happened?” “Well, there was kissing…and I was INVOLVED in it. And there was a wedding.” Then, in disgusted tones, Matthew added, “I was getting married and kissing a girl!!” (Matthew didn’t know who the mystery wife was). This was all said with the same amount of horror used for describing terrible crimes and senseless tragedy. Trying to contain my huge sighs of relief, I reassured him again that it was OK. Then later he added, “I bet I dreamt about a wedding because Ms. Baugh [his music teacher] is getting married.” “Oh yeah?” Then I asked nonchalantly, “Do you like Ms. Baugh…a lot?” “Mmm-hmmm.” And then quite a bit later, he said, “And I even got to do the limbo with Ms. Baugh!!” Oh really?! I think this kiddo might be following in his dad’s footsteps. Mike still talks in awed-tones about his first grade teacher – he had quite the crush on her and had big plans of marriage. “Yep!” Matthew exclaimed, getting more excited. “I got to hold the limbo stick with her!” Apparently this is what it means to ‘do the limbo’ with someone). “And, I was the only one in the whole class who got to hold the stick. And the rest of the kids were all like ‘aaaaaaahhhh, man. No fair!” Matthew grinned from ear-to-ear. Must be love. Thank goodness kissing is “totally gross” or I’d be worried about our little Romeo. (By the way: if/when you see Matthew soon and should you mention the grossness of kissing or his admiration for Ms. Baugh, I will punch you in the nose and kick you in the shin simultaneously for humiliating my child. That’s my job and right as his mom! I am merely recording these facts for FUTURE humiliation purposes…like to show a prom date or his wife. Really! Do you see how much embarrassing ammo I have? 375 pages worth! Poor kids. They don’t have a chance.)

Something is very much awry with Zachary’s “Movie Show-er.” (a.k.a. the apparatus in his mind that shows moving pictures…a.k.a. his imagination). Thankfully I’ve been reassured that crews are rapidly working to fix the problem. In the car, the other day, I glanced at Zach in the rearview mirror. He was looking out the window but had a glazed look over his eyes.

“Are you watching something on your movie show-er kiddo?” I asked.

“Aghk, Mom,” (big exasperated sigh), “I told you that my movie show-er’s not working right now.” (I’m fairly certain he’d actually forgotten to relay this message.)

“Oh no! It’s not?!” I am ever so concerned about this news.

“Yes,” he says with what little ounce of patience he can muster at my apparent forgetfulness. “It got taken away because it was being mean to me.”

“Really? What was it doing?”

“Well, at night sometimes it would show me scary stuff so they’re taking it away and fixing it. Maybe I’ll just get a new one that’s not a mean one,” he explains.

“Ahhh, yeah, that’s no good if it’s a mean movie show-er. No good at all,” I agree. No one wants to have to watch scary movies at nighttime!

I don’t know how long repairs will take, but hopefully he won’t have to be without mind-movies for long! What a drag. Seriously, dealing with cable-type companies are the worst too!

“It’s Warthog’s day!!” (According to Zach).

Matthew announced yesterday that he brought his sheriff sticker badge to school for show-and-tell. (The boys each got a couple at the courthouse on Friday when we finalized Kayli’s adoption). When I asked him what he told his class about our outing he said, “I just said that I went with my mom and dad to court where we saw the sheriff.” Nothing about Kayliana or adopting…just basically that mom and dad were visiting their parole officer or something. Awesome.

So, I admit that I put on a little bit of baby weight. (Yes, I know that I really can’t use that excuse since I wasn’t the pregnant one, but it was called coordinating a National EE Convention followed by lots of house projects and a stressful waiting-for-baby time that really did it). I just didn’t have time to work-out and that has continued since Kayliana – who is awesome but not very conducive to frequent periods of working-out – moved in. Alas, I’ve put on several pounds of winter warmth. Which need to be shed. Plus, I miss running. Plus, I HAVE to run not only for my mental (and physical) well-being but also because I AM signed up and hoping to do the Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon again this June. So, really, I NEED to adding runs. This once-a-week thing on Saturdays is just not going to cut it.

Now, I’ve been an early morning runner off and on for the last seven years. My plan was to gradually start in again. And then I remembered how, despite having an awesome sleeper-baby, we do still get up occasionally during the night and I’m just tired! I also remembered how it’s FREEZIN’ in the mornings right now. And I remembered how awesome cozy my bed is at 6am. So, Mike and I came up with a plan – until April (when it starts getting lighter out in the morning and I’ll be back up to 3-4 runs a week) – I will run in the evening (just once or twice a week) when he gets home from work.

Last night, I was all pumped for my run. I donned my reflective-jacket, white cozy stocking cap, cell phone, emergency whistle, and flashing little red light thingy that clips on to me and gives me a headache if I have to see it while running. As I said, I’m somewhat used to running in the dark but it can still be a little disorienting at times. Especially when your eyes have adjusted to the dim light and the occasional bright patch from a street lamp and then a bus drives towards you blinding you with its’ headlights.

And obviously, as a woman, running in the dark, I’m a little extra vigilant, cautious and tuned in to any possible dangers – be it man or beast! (I certainly don’t listen to music when I run alone in the dark). But I figured that this is actually a much safer time for me to run alone as more people are out and about at 6pm than at 6am. I once read that 4-6am is the most likely time for robberies to happen. It’s true! I speak from experience – I once stopped a car thief. (Yeah, basically I’m a secret ninja-guru-master-undercover-swat-police-officer-chewing-watermelon-bubble-gum).

I was doing fine and enjoying my run when my heart literally flew up into my throat (OK, not literally). I watched as a huge dark figure seemed to be sprinting close to me. And of course I was by a nighttime vacant dark park and not in front of a house or business where I could yell for help. I watched for a moment as this large body-shape continued near me…and then I realized it was just my own distorted shadow being projected on the sidewalk by some passing car headlights. I took a deep breath. OK, shake it off.

I will – for the next couple of months – miss running during the sunrise (like this gorgeous one from last week)! Running at night is kind of fun in its own way – with people arriving home from work and families sitting down to dinner and the smells of different cooking wafting out of windows – it’s an interesting time to experience the neighborhood. As I neared the last stretch of my run, I saw up-ahead, a young woman walking her dog. I was coming up behind her and debating how to run by her without freaking her out! I switched to the other side of the path so I wouldn’t clip by just next to her but at the last minute she veered in front of me causing me to kind of swerve around her. She had her hat pulled way down and hadn’t heard my footsteps coming at all. Just as I passed her she saw me and jumped.

I said, “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t figure out how to tell you I was here without freaking you out!” I’m sure, had she heard my approaching footsteps, she would’ve automatically assumed I was a scary bad boogey-man or something. She laughed and said, “Exactly!” I guess next time I’ll just start – from 100 feet away – saying, “On your left, on your left, on your left…” ‘cuz that won’t be at all annoying or weird.

During the very last part of my run – before I push up the big hill to home – I have the privilege (yet torture) of running by McDonalds (where the delicious smell of fries fills my nose) and the gourmet chocolate-wine-coffee shop (how I don’t actually live in this place is a miracle. Even more crazy is the fact that I’ve only been there twice and yet it’s just a couple blocks from home). I always wonder what people would think if I stop in at McDonald’s or the chocolatery all sweaty post-run. I’ve never done it and I’ll fight the urge…but I really do like to picture the potential looks on people’s faces.