Genevieve Salome

Or, Jellybean Salami- as we sometimes call her- turns 9 years old today. Her birth seems so long ago. It was a cold night; snowy and dark. The teenager that we hired to come watch Olivia kept sleeping through my phone calls. Labor was getting progressively worse, and I wanted my epidural. When we finally were en route to the hospital, the girls' dad stopped at the gas station to buy cigarettes. I wanted to kill him. The rest of the drive was spent alternatively yelling for him to hurry up and get me to the hospital, and to slow down and not hit any bumps, because it made my pain unbearable. There were some hitches during the labor process, but what always stands out to me the most is that from the very moment Genevieve was born, she has made people laugh. She came via c-section, so I couldn't see what was going on, but as soon as I felt her being lifted from my body, the room burst into laughter. While at the time it seemed rather insensitive to me as I lay splayed open on the table, I was told that as she was brought into the world, she reached out and snatched a scissors out of the nearest hand. They had to pry them from her tiny fingers.

Genevieve has been a clown ever since. She loves making people laugh! There are times when I just plain do not understand her sense of humor, but luckily, Shawn's is identical to hers. While they are delighted to make poop jokes all day long, Olivia and I exchange glances and wonder how on earth that can be so funny. Then, we end up laughing right along with them simply because Genevieve is laughing hysterically, and it's too contagious to withstand.

She is the most sensitive child I have ever met. It hurts her to see others suffer, and she cannot lie or she will be physically ill by bedtime. When I discipline her, I need to explicitly state that I am not angry with her, or she will dissolve into tears at the mere thought that I might be upset. She needs individual attention every night, in a certain routine, even if she has been the center of my day. Then, I need to visit her while she sleeps, and dot her hand with a washable marker to prove I was there. Her most treasured gifts at Christmas and her birthdays are toys that I have made for her, and they are never far away. She endures relentless food allergies and skin problems, knowing that she is not like her friends and never will be. Traditions are very important to her, and she fully expects all of us to follow them. She makes us all better people.

She is our eccentric genius. Gen adores school so much that she is disappointed when it is Friday, because that means spending two days away from learning. Every notebook on her shelf is filled with numbers, because she plays school at home, and does math for fun anytime we drive anywhere. I can never help her with her spelling words because she always forgets the list or loses it the moment she gets home, but she consistently gets 15/15 or 14/15 for scores despite never studying. She cannot follow more than one or two commands at once; "Get your shoes on and find your backpack," is too complex to remember once the shoes have been tied, but each day after school, she gets a snack and does her homework without being asked. Every time I go to the school, I have to rummage through the lost and found to bring home half of her wardrobe, yet she is better at saving money than most adults. She has a Kindle, a Nintendo DSI, and is now shopping for an iPad Touch- all paid for with her own cash. Somehow, I feel like her personality is best summarized by her outfits. Every day, I look forward to what she will wear:

The gloves and hat are not for practical purposes- they're for flair.

This is a Wednesday night before Kid's Club at church.

This is one of her more common outfits that she likes to wear to school when she's not feeling snazzy enough for dressing up: 

Then there is this gem, which literally hurt my eyes one morning:

Yup, those are zebra socks OVER her white leggings.

Or how about this piece of magic:

You are not mistaken; that is a GALAXY on her pants.

I love this girl; so does everyone else who knows her. In fact, she is the first person that Shael said, "I love you," to. She always wakes up with a smile, excited to see what the day holds. She forgives easily. She is amazing. Genevieve, I love you!

Olivia Joelle

Olivia Joelle turns 12 years old today. I still remember the day I gave birth to her. The memory is so clear; awful, but clear. Her birth was long and hard, and if our arrival into the world gives any clues to our future personality, hers certainly did. To this day, Olivia is stubborn and often does things the difficult way. She is absolutely her own person and will do things her way, in her own time. While part of me rolls my eyes and shakes my head, a larger, secretive part of me smiles and admires her; no one will ever tell who to be or what to do, and that makes me outrageously proud. When I ask her to do something that she deems unfair and  she sets her jaw and her eyes start flashing- oh boy- I know I'm in for a battle. But I also know that anyone who ever tries to peer pressure her will get this same response, and that's a comfort. Any poor decisions will be hers and hers alone! On the other side of her stubborn coin, she has a respect that baffles me; in the midst of completely disagreeing with me and arguing like a top notch attorney, she will absolutely abide by the punishments and boundaries I have set. She was grounded soon after school started for not turning in her math homework, so I took away all electronic privileges: no email, no IMing with friends, no online games, etc. She knew she was in the wrong, and accepted her punishment (after many attempts to explain and justify her absent homework- that's the little lawyer in her that she has always been), and never disagreed with the new rules. As of right now, she has nearly 350 emails from friends awaiting responses, but she knows that she needs to pull her math grade up before she can check them. Them's the breaks. Instead of pouting every day or whining or complaining, she comes home with a smile on her face. She still loves me, and accepts me through my faults. She can't wait to embrace her brother and ask him about his day, and this leads me to another facet of Olivia that blows me away daily: she is an excellent mother. She is a better mom than people we see out in public. She is a better mom than I am. She is astonishing. From the moment Shael was born, Olivia became more of a mommy than a sister.

With Shawn gone, and baby Shael unable to latch on, Olivia took over his care when I had to pump around the clock. And she wanted to. She was only 10, but I told her that breast milk was important for her brother, and that was all she needed to know. If it was important, she was going to make sure it happened. I was relieved and grateful for her help, but wrongly assumed that she would grow tired of this new baby and his demands. The last two years have only grown her love and nurturing instincts.  As I said, every day she looks forward to seeing Shael. If he's napping when she gets home, she's crushed. They play, they laugh, she scolds him when he's naughty... if I told her today that I needed to leave for a week and that she would have to take care of Shael for every single hour of it, she would be ecstatic. She smiles every time Shael says her name ("A-lee-ya"), and applauds his every drawing, complies with his every wish and command, and kisses every owie. Shawn and I just need to be around to make sure that Shael isn't too spoiled! Recently, Olivia and I were looking over Shael's newborn pictures, and marveling at how ugly he was- we had thought he was absolutely gorgeous! I told Olivia that this is common- a mother always thinks her baby is just the most beautiful thing ever, but as time passes, we can look back on the old pictures and see just how mashed up and distorted our baby's face was. While it doesn't surprise me that I fell for this yet again, it does surprise me that she did at only 10 years old. She couldn't believe that these pictures were of her Shael; she remembered him being so handsome, not yellow and puffy and wrinkly. 

This Halloween, Shawn was working, and Genevieve went trick-or-treating with her dad. Olivia was excited to be able to take Shael out. I drove the van, but she wanted to help Shael go door to door. It was beautiful to watch her hold his hand, help him over every curb, keep him out of the way of traffic, and prompt him to say "thank you" at each house.

As you can see, Olivia was joined by friends for a little while. She didn't ask to run off with them, and they knew she wouldn't want to; they joined her and her brother. They all roamed the neighborhood together while I trailed in the van, un-needed, and proud of that. Shael had so much fun that night, and Olivia got to feed him his first taste of candy bar. 

This fall, Olivia started middle school. It's a new school in a new town, and although many of her friends shifted to the same place, it was still an adjustment. Olivia started experimenting with running when I did, and she has grown to love it, so asked about joining the Cross Country team. I was thrilled that she wanted to participate in a team sport. We got her registered, but the season was already half over. Olivia didn't care, and jumped right in. At her first meet, I didn't recognize a single person. I asked her which of her friends were on the team- none of them were. She hadn't known a single person on the team when she joined, but now loved all of her teammates. I consider myself very friendly and social, but there is no way I would have joined a strange sport in a strange school full of strange people at age 11. She didn't hesitate. 

What an amazing girl. I learn from her constantly. She's my parenting guinea pig, but doesn't mind. She understands and is patient with me. She is compassionate- for her birthday, she has asked for clothes and toys for the local women's shelter. For Christmas, she wants dog and cat food for the animal shelter. She made me a swear jar for the window sill to help me clean up my mouth. She loves to bake, and has the most hilarious sense of humor in the world, and can make me laugh until I bawl. She and Genevieve drive each other nuts, but as soon as Genevieve is scared, Olivia is the first to put her arm around Gen's shoulders. She loves climbing trees, drawing, reading, writing, and crafting. I couldn't live without her, and I just can't believe that she's in my life every day. Thank you God, for my first baby; I will never take her for granted.

Anticipation

Pregnancy is a magical, wonderful, thing. It's so hard to believe that I'm making a human being in my own body. Despite it being my fourth, it's also hard to believe that it's going to come out of my body, but I try not to think about that. Feeling a baby squirm inside of me is truly fascinating, and I don't know if I will ever tire of watching my stomach jump and stretch as I carry children. However...I have always said that pregnancy is about 6 weeks too long. Really, it's quite tolerable until the end. This pregnancy especially gave me hope that I would be comfortable until delivery. The cruel fact is that sometimes, being pregnant just stinks. If you're a man, or a woman who has not experienced pregnancy, just quit reading right now; I wish to neither disgust or scare you. If you're a woman or partner who has been there, done that, you'll probably relate, or at least be able to laugh at me.

The bigger I get, the more questions people have. For the most part, I don't mind (but "How many are in there?!" will never be cute to me, just so we're clear), but if you think you're sick of waiting for me to whelp, just know that in no way, shape or form are you as irritated with how long this takes as I am. And my poor family... I caught myself criticizing the cat yesterday. Her looking at me was too much to take. The dog- who normally follows me everywhere anyways- has stationed herself SO CLOSE TO ME that I trip over her constantly. I stop myself from telling Genevieve not to breath when she eats. Or telling Olivia not to touch me or telling Shael that I'm not a jungle gym (just kidding, I'm regularly snapping at everyone to get their hands OFF OF ME). Or elbowing Shawn in bed because he's crowding me ("No, I'm not, you're just huge."  The truth hurts.) I want everyone to leave me the crap alone, but would be really mad if they actually did.

My chiropractor has always been astonished at how low I'm carrying. Trust me, I'm astonished, too. All my babies have been low, but this one takes the cake. There is nothing quite like feeling someone else break-dance in your underwear. If I can feel it there, shouldn't this baby be crowning? Apparently not. So, I wait while it riverdances across my bladder and punches me in the cervix. Unfortunately with this child, since I am carrying so low, my tendons are strained all the way up the sides. It burns, and wraps around to my back. My chiro is a lovely lady, however, and does what she can to massage and loosen those ligaments. Also, as of yesterday, she wants to try to help me "get things moving". When she walked into the room, she had put her hands on her hips and said, "My God, you're even lower. How can you even walk?" She massaged a couple of key accupressure points to stimulate labor. I contracted all evening, but it stopped before bed. This is the way my last few months always go for me. You would think by #4, I would have this labor and delivery business all figured out, but I never know when I'm in labor. It takes many hours of what seem like Braxton-Hicks contractions. Sometimes they get painful enough to wake me up every ten minutes for hours-which should really mean it's true labor- but they mean nothing. When Olivia asks if I think I might be in labor, I just tell her that I don't know, but I do know that I won't miss it. Sure, some women wait too long or have really fast labors and accidentally birth at home, but that doesn't scare me. In fact, we were planning on a home birth until my OB doctor proved to be so incredibly awesome and laid-back that we realized we were going to be able to do everything the way we wanted to under his care (when we asked him if he would be our back up if we home-birthed, he said he absolutely would, and that he didn't blame us for wanting to birth at home, since medical establishments treat pregnancy like a disease and OB's interfere way too much). So, anyways, if I somehow miss the excruciating pain leading up to delivering my baby and accidentally birth at home, Shawn and the kids and I are all 100% fine with that. They all know more than they probably want to about this whole process. Sometimes, that's awesome- I know I'm teaching my daughters important aspects about pregnancy and childbirth that usually aren't discussed and can take young women by surprise. Olivia gets the giggles when I sneeze, because she' knows I probably just wet my pants. Genevieve is no longer startled if she catches me crying in the bathroom because I can't find my phone. Olivia tries not to be offended when I forget her in the church library and go to my class without her, because my brain no longer works. Shawn drives us everywhere, because even driving is too uncomfortable, and he's probably sick of hearing me grunt with every single move I make. I fall asleep as he drives and wake up choking on my tongue- multiple times. We had to stop at Target for super absorbent pads as I think ahead to postpartum. The other day he asked me if I had lost my mucous plug yet, and I mourned the innocence that our relationship has lost.

 With us having four children, it's easy to forget that this is his first experience with a wife preparing for labor. A ready-made family and his 2nd deployment spared him all of this stuff in the past. He marvels over the tiny baby clothes that I've washed and hung in the closet- he's never really looked at newborn sized clothing. The little diapers don't seem real. Having Shawn around is an aspect will be new for me, too; with Olivia, my ex and I were young, dumb, and did not have a good relationship. By the time I was pregnant with Genevieve, we were separated. Both of those deliveries were terrible for those reasons, and also because I had horrible OB's that were completely insensitive and awful. For Shael, Shawn was deployed (thank heavens for my cousin Megan!). What will it be like to give birth with a supportive husband and doctor that I trust whole-heartedly? Sometimes, I think that he will be super sensitive, caring, and kind. Other times, I see his military side coming out, and I fear the worst.

Hopefully, I have a beautiful birth story and adorable baby pictures to share with you soon :)

Two Years Old!

Our blonde little man is now two. Of course, I meant to write this last month, but time gets away from me. Can you believe how cute he is? I just can't get over it. These pictures are from our camping trip in South Dakota. Yes, this little guy rode in the van for 6 hours with his mom and sisters without a single complaint. He absolutely adores "car rides". 

Every day he asks if we'll go for a car ride. Sometimes, we just go to the gas station a mile away so he can have his car ride. He'll take one alone with me, but of course he very much prefers riding along with his sisters and dad. The more, the merrier. When we drive to meet the girls' dad to drop the girls off, Shael has so much fun chatting and singing with Olivia and Genevieve. It's a bit heartbreaking to hear him ask for them when they leave. Which brings me to school starting...

This post is supposed to be about Shael, but I couldn't resist sneaking those cute pics of Olivia and Genevieve on their first days :)  Shael started a fascination with buses a little bit ago. To prepare him for his sisters leaving every day for school, we showed him buses and told him that soon Olivia and Genevieve would ride the bus for a big car ride to school. That instantly made buses cool, and he's loved them ever since. The first day, we watched Olivia get on her bus. The next day, we watched both Olivia and Genevieve get on their respective buses. With his face lit up like a Christmas tree, Shael craned his neck to look down the road and said, "MY bus?!" He was so excited and so hopeful that next, he would get a bus ride. It was certainly disappointing for him, but each day when his sisters come home, he grins from ear to ear, runs into their arms, and asks, "Ride bus?!" and they laugh and say that yes, they rode their bus. Every day when Shawn calls to let me know he's on his way home from school or work, Shael grabs the phone and asks him if he's riding in his car.

I still can't believe how much Shael and his sisters adore each other. Even when he gets too excited and smacks them in the face, Olivia and Genevieve are patient with him. The only time we have to get after Genevieve about her interactions with Shael, it's because she won't stop hugging him or holding him, and he screams in frustration. Every night, the girls hug and kiss with Shael, and if they mention going to bed, he holds out his arms and begs, "Hug?"  Lately, we've had a bug in our house. Olivia was laying on the couch feeling poorly, so Shael took care of her:

When he gets scared, he will just as easily turn to his sisters as he will Shawn or I. He knows that if the vacuum is about to fire up, his sisters will hold him and protect him, and I can't even express how proud that makes me. Olivia and Genevieve are better sisters than I ever though possible, and Shael is so lucky. And in return, he loves them more than I thought possible of a two year old, and they are so lucky. 

 Olivia says, "Mom, I have the only thing I want to bring to camp."

Helping Olivia bake.

At the petting zoo.

Posing together.

Olivia and Genevieve gave Shael their Mudman Extreme 5k medals that they worked so hard for.

Our cuties.

Five Years

Yes, my husband has survived five whole years of marriage with me. No, I have no idea how. Anniversaries are funny; they cause you to pause and reflect. With each year that passes, time takes a little twist. It feels like Shawn and I have always known each other. Certainly we have been married for longer than five years? It seems like we have the experiences and memories that would make up a marriage of 15 years or so. With a blended family, it's easy to forget that we haven't shared every day of OJ's 11 years, plus our other two children. It feels like...forever.

Now, sometimes when people say that they feel as though they have been married "forever", it's a very negative thing. That's not the kind of "forever" that I am implying; I am very lucky to have him in my life. Don't get me wrong, there are some days when my husband can drive me completely bonkers, and I kind of want to strangle him. However, this never lasts long, (which is good, because he's a lot stronger than I am and could totally win if we brawled, and that would destroy the idea in my head that I'm super strong). When I have these moments of frustration, all I have to do is empathize a bit, and perspective gives me a big 'ol smack in the face, because here's the thing that I always realize: If I was ever married to myself, I would murder me. I consider myself a nice person. I'm not violent. I'm law-abiding. I like rules and a society that functions with rules. But if the government ever kidnapped me and put me in a clone project and I had to live with me, I would absolutely go Dexter on myself. 

Shawn and I have a very traditional marriage. Shawn goes to work and school, I stay at home and take care of the kids and the home. I even wear an apron when I bake (not because I'm proper; because I'm messy and I burn myself). From the outside, it likely looks a bit chauvinistic and oppressive, but I can promise that our home is quite egalitarian. By "egalitarian", I mean that Shawn works hard, is very respectful of me, and expresses appreciation for what I do almost daily, and works with me on every decision made in the house. How many spouses get that? And- here is what really amazes me- he tolerates my maddening habits and wild personality flaws. I have some obnoxious quirks. It took me a while to accept that I had quirks. When a friend called me "quirky" years ago, I thought, "only crazy/eccentric people are quirky." Oh. I see. 

I like to do laundry. However, don't you dare drop a dirty sock in the laundry basket that is inside out. That is UNACCEPTABLE. As the kids get older, they find that they really can't leave any article of clothing inside out. I will happily wash the clothes. I will gladly dry the clothes. I will gaily fold the clothes. And I will put them in your closet with a smile. But turn them right-side-out? What am I, your maid?! In my world, there is some sort of indignity involved in righting clothing. So, although it is really part of my job, Shawn will have to right his clothing before getting dressed for work at 4:30AM because I simply refuse to do it for him. And it's my job. I take pride in being a stay-at-home mom and housewife, so I know it's completely petty and selfish that I do this, but I just can't un-do my mindset. And Shawn understands. Or at least he doesn't complain, God bless him. If our roles were reversed, I would probably purposely turn ALL clothing inside-out, just to prove a point. And then I would wear my reversed clothing to work to prove another point. Then I would get fired for being dressed like an idiot, but would be happy that I stood firm. (Stood firm in what? Who knows. I'm ridiculous.)

Another area that could use some drastic improvement would be my attention/affection/sweetness zone. Because... I don't have one. Every day, Shawn calls me on the way home from work, and every day, I grit my teeth and sigh, because I despise talking on the phone that much. Here he is, calling me to let me know that he's thinking about me and missed me, and there I am, wondering if he's going to get to the point and hang up. To cut myself a little slack, usually I have a toddler dipping his bagel in the cat's water or trying to flush his sister's barbie down the toilet, but to be honest, it probably wouldn't matter if I was childless. I simply hate the phone. After Shawn has let me know that he loves me and misses me, he'll say, "I'll let you go, I know you don't like the phone." And we hang up. Now, how sweet is that? Every day he does this, despite the fact that I'm curt and frustrated. 

I can't sweep the house, I must vacuum. 

I need a minimum of four pillows to sleep, one of which is over my head. I basically breath through a blowhole. How romantic is that? 

I'm moody. 

I require plenty of free time for running events and taekwondo. 

I'm bossy. 

I have a lot of baggage. 

I start cleaning one area of the house (enough to make it a disaster), and then get distracted and clean a totally different one.

I don't remember to take care of our vehicles well. 

I can't fetch anything out of the garbage disposal because I'm afraid of drains.

Foods have to be stacked in the grocery cart just so. They also must be in the cupboards just so, and the refrigerator, and the freezer... you know what, just let me do it. 

My crafts and art projects are random, spread out, off-limits, and half- completed.

I am the biggest klutz in the entire world. No, really. I drop and break EVERYTHING, and during pregnancy, it's 50x worse. I can't even count how many phones I've lost/broken. In the last two days, I have broken canning jars, dropped a carton of eggs, dropped and spilled a container of protein powder, started shaking protein and milk in a shaker with the lid on crooked (yep, shake everywhere), broken our childrens' toys, hurt myself countless times, and uttered way too many cuss words. Shawn just smiles patiently. 


There are so many irritating habits that I have. This barely scratches the surface. How does Shawn endure this? I don't know. He even loves me and thinks that I'm the one that has a lot to put up with. I got a pretty good deal, and I am grateful to have found a man who can be so patient, caring, and understanding. Marriage is hard work, but so rewarding. I'm looking forward to many more anniversaries!

Mission...Impossible?

Something about this pregnancy has been downright magical; I firmly believe it is from being active. I've had to slow down because of the heat (we don't have AC), the mosquitoes (record breaking, I'm finding out), and Shawn's new job (he goes to bed before I would be home from class): these factors eliminated running at home as well as going to the gym. I believe I mentioned before that I haven't had much for pregnancy symptoms. I was a little worried about physically typing that out and hitting the "publish" button back in May, because doesn't that just sound like the biggest jinx set-up of all time? However, here I am, feeling better than ever. This is what made it extra frustrating to be missing classes in taekwondo simply over scheduling conflicts. The last big race I was in was the Med-City (relay) in May, and I did 7 miles for my team, and felt fantastic afterwards. It was the furthest I had ever run, and the only pain was my feet. I felt like I could run all day!

Here I am running my leg of the Med-City relay back in May. Just a little pouch for a belly :)

To feel so energized yet sit at home and know that my friends in tkd were working out and going to Nationals to compete without me was killing me. In June, I did a 5k, and didn't feel as fantastic, but definitely as satisfied. Recently, Shawn and I came up with a pretty good solution in our schedule problems, and I've been able to hit the gym again. I'm so glad, because I was really feeling the effects of missing my workouts, and it was depressing. Now, after reading what I just wrote, it sounds like I am in peak physical condition with just a little frustration over time off. The truth is, I've been indulging my sweet tooth too often during this time of less exercise. Working out less plus indulging more? You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out where that leads. I've already gained 20 of the 30 lbs. I'm allowed to gain for a healthy and normal pregnancy, and I'm only a touch over halfway there. Only ten pounds left for the next four and a half months? Yikes. I'm sure I'll go over my "goal weight", but hopefully I can go over because of fantastic food choices that allow my baby to thrive. In the meantime, for my mental and physical health, it's back into the gym, with a bit of humbleness. The humbling comes when our instructor has us do things like squats and push-ups. Wow, did I let that get out of control fast. They are incredibly difficult now. Of course, my belly hinders me a bit, but the extra weight is what's killing me. Working out with the equivalent of a weighted vest is very different from lifting weights. It makes sense now that I think about it, but I didn't really think about it before. I thought, "Well, I lift weights, so gaining weight won't be that big of a deal in my workouts." Lol. The other night, jumping and spinning to kick the bags went really well. Tonight, it didn't. Part of me lamented inside, wailing, "This is it! I've hit my pregnancy wall! I will suck at anything physical from now on!!" Then I took a deep breath and remembered: this happens all the time when I'm not pregnant. There will be a night where I feel like I'm on top of my game, then the next night, I feel like a beginner and can't do anything right. This is where commitment comes into play, and I have to suck it up and do it again, even though I risk embarrassing myself. The only difference now is that when my grandmaster pushes me to go faster and higher, I have to really think about it. I was really "off" tonight, and had to be careful with my balance, so when he encouraged, "BOOM BOOM!" I didn't push myself harder to kick faster. It was more like "boom...boom." This challenges not only my ego, but my sense of respect. For the first time, I am purposefully disobeying my instructor.  When he yells at us for having our knees on the ground during push-ups, I grit my teeth and still keep them down. I know what anyone reading is thinking, that I shouldn't feel bad about doing this, and think of the baby, etc. I don't feel bad, per say, but it is quite an adjustment. And don't go thinking that my grandmaster is harassing the pregnant lady. He's not. He's treating me the same as he always has, and I know that he trusts me to scale back if I need to. The fact that he's still pushing me to do a little bit more and try a little bit harder is actually delightful. Nearly every day I have people telling me what I shouldn't do, what I can't do, or ask me if I should really be working out. When I say that yes, I should be, they nod slowly and say, "But should you really be doing that?"  I know they have good intentions, but their information is outdated, and it gets old to be questioned like that all the time. For Pete's sake, I even get harassed at the grocery store for grabbing a mere two bags of groceries instead of requesting carry-out. So yeah, it feels good to have someone snap at me if I'm getting lazy. There is a fine line between scaling back because I need to, and taking it easy simply because I can.  This leads me to my future challenge: a marathon in a month. Tonight when I was scrolling facebook, one of my virtual marathon sites had a feed. A virtual race is a race that you register for online, run it at home, and send your time in. They are basically placed with the honor system, the entry fees are much (much!) lower, you run it on your schedule in your neighborhood, and the proceeds always go to some charity. Obviously, hard-core runners that care about winning actual races don't do these. The one I saw tonight was only $5 if I signed up in time (of course I didn't see it until I had fourteen minutes left), and from October 1st- October 31st, you have to run 26.2 miles.  I will be very pregnant by that time, yet it breaks down to less than a mile a day. Hmmm... could I? Could I commit to that and run every day? Shawn was watching Netflix, and I asked, "Do you think I could run a marathon in a month?" He was distracted, and said, "No." I was about to get angry at such a quick shoot-down when he said, "Wait, did you say in a month?" Redeemed, I smiled and said, "Yeah, a month." He turned back to his computer screen and shrugged. "Maybe."  I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. Maybe? Maybe?! How long have we been married? Because CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. With less than a few minutes to spare, I jumped out of bed, sprinted outside to my van half naked (sorry neighbors), grabbed my wallet, and registered. It's ON. My biggest obstacle will be my pregnancy brain forgetting that I registered by the time October rolls around. I know I can do it. And I will do it. I will get my cheap medal, and prove to myself and others that pregnant women are warriors, not delicate flowers. We need to prepare our bodies for the incredible and amazing feat of birthing a human, and we can enjoy the journey along the way. If you would like to accept this challenge with me, register here: http://www.eventbrite.com/event/6925697949/?invite&err=29&referrer&discount&affiliate&eventpassword#loginbox  Let's run together!

Summer

It really is summer now, isn't it? Summer always comes with it's quirks, and I have extra work dealing with them. First of all, it seemed like the season would never come this year. My garden is definitely stunted because of it, but looking pretty good otherwise. Each year, I find myself growing ridiculously fond of my little garden. I get a little too proud, and a little too protective. The dog will carefully skirt the edges, showing she knows exactly where the borders lie, yet I will randomly find her standing in the middle. I shriek and charge, and she suddenly turns into a squirrel, dodging this way and that, while I wave my arms and frantically try to herd her out.  I am obsessively peeking out the windows to make sure that the cats aren't traipsing through my beautiful bounty, and when I catch a feline such malicious intent, I run screaming through the back door to scare them away. I even have a BB gun that I shake at them. Yet for all this, it has become a game- I can see it in their faces. They mock me. Just the other night, I was startled by a deer standing in the driveway about 10 feet from our door. I brought the family over to see, and we all admired her before she trotted away. Then I realized how dumb I had been! I should have sent the dog out to chase her, or done something scary. Now she thinks our place is nice and peaceful, and full of tasty vegetable sprouts. The mosquitoes are doing what they can to try to prevent me from weeding. Sometimes it works. Those things are aggressive  up here. I certainly remember getting plenty of bites down in Rochester, but up here they full on attack. I really would prefer to use all natural bug spray, but it doesn't phase them a bit. If I'm not drenched in DEET, I'm advertising free blood. Evening would be ideal for weeding, if not for those pests. Another reason I can't weed after high noon: Junebugs. Do those terrify you the way they terrify me? June is really the month from hell. Lucifer himself must slither up some craggy crack of the earth and set loose Junebugs and woodticks, just to torment human beings.

Despite my very own animals toying with my mental health, and having a fear of stepping outside after dusk, I am enjoying summer. I know, it doesn't sound like it, but I am. The kids are so fun to be around that every day is interesting. There is so much to do! We love swimming, taking Shael for walks, going to the park, having picnics. Olivia and Genevieve have enjoyed sleeping in their tent a few different nights. They know that even though I say they have to go to sleep by X time, that I'm too afraid of Junebugs to step outside and make sure they've put away the books and flashlights. I've heard what sounded suspiciously like giggles well into the night... The girls and I are still making it through the "mom-summer-schooling," although little brother makes it quite difficult for us. We do what we can while he sleeps, but there isn't much we can manage while he's awake. That boy is go-go-go as soon as his feet hit the floor in the morning! I love Shawn's work schedule, because he leaves while we're sleeping, and is home before 3pm every day. I'm sure he would like to sleep a little longer in the mornings, but he very much enjoys his job at the nursing home.

 I had grand plans of stuffing this blog entry full of cute pictures of the kids, but my laptop died and we haven't been able to transfer the pictures on to the new one yet. Stay tuned for some sweet pics of the family!