Sunday's events, seemed like a good idea at the time

Things that I do throughout my day often seem like a good idea at the time, but later prove themselves otherwise. Today two such events occured:

1. We have a lovely Sunday ritual. We eat lunch at Panera Bread, and then go grocery shopping at the Kroger. We do it all together, the three of us; Rob, Lilah (me), & Grace. Grace is at the tender age where she often falls asleep in the car on the way home from the store. So part of our Sunday ritual is to keep Grace awake during the drive home. Today we employed lots of fun, techno-laden dance tunes, and some car dancing. Eyelids still heavy, I handed her a straw (one of her favorite toys, mind you) LESS THAN A MILE FROM HOME. We made it home, parked, and turned around to find this:

"Here Grace, play with this straw and don't fall asleep."

2. I purchased a WATER SOLUBLE ink pad to make some cute thank-you cards with Gracie handprints on them. A simple project for three, with easy clean-up thanks to the WATER-SOLUBLE ink pad. WRONGO. Our fingers are stained pink. Rob's fingers. My fingers. And Grace's entire right hand. Stained pink.

This was after 20 minutes of washing. True story.

"Maybe if I drink this bottle of Burt's Bees shampoo it will help..."

"Alright, no more of your great ideas for today. " Rob

LIARS!!

Triathlon for Lilah, let's do this.

It's been a while, but I am still trying to find a way to fit writing into my everyday lifestyle. As I narrate in my mind throughout the day, I often run out of time before my head hits the pillow and I'm done. Of course it doesn't help that I'm all about picking up the knitting needles whenever I have a spare moment. I often wait until I finish a row before I tend to a Grace in need. *bad-mommy disclaimer: if my child is in serious need, there is no hesitation when I toss aside the knitting and tend to her latest head collision with furniture, which happens at least twice a day as she is mastering her baby-ninja walking skills (silent, quick, and oh so dangerous).*

Recently I stayed in the passenger seat of the car to finish knitting a row after Rob and Grace had exited the car. He stood outside the window looking at me and commented, "I hope I'm never in a life or death situation while you're knitting, because I don't believe you would be able to stop in order to save me." Well having never faced that conundrum dear husband, there is no need to speculate what my actions would be. Although secretly, I think he may be right.

There is momming throughout the day, knitting, the running of the AMC, playdates, Gymboree, random shopping trips, teaching knitting at the yarn barn, of course the Facebooking, and more recently fitness endeavours. More specifically, there has been running, biking and swimming because I AM going to do this mini-Lilah-appropriate triathlon. Call me crazy, but I'm tackling this off my bucket list because life is for living, not for cramming when you think you're dying, sorry Tim McGraw.

The first few runs around the Navy base have been interesting. Having a great shuffle of running tunes on the iphone has been invaluable...except for these few incidents:

• When first getting going, I get all into my music and want to dance while running.I can't help it, I'm an extrovert. Bad idea. Especially while I'm stopped waiting to cross the street and I think this is an appropriate time to boogie. This girl dancing on the corner of Oglethorpe and Sunset on a Saturday morning is really not the entertainment the customers of the Farmer's' market expect. So I'm sorry Rihanna, sometimes please DO stop the music.


• One evening I attempted to utilize the gym in order to try biking and then a light jog. Another BAD IDEA. It only ended up with me flicking off the TV when the Michael Vic was shown. This while bored out of my mind and getting my crotchy bits all smooshed uncomfortably is NOT a good time. Trying to get in a light jog on the treadmill did not help either. Once my iphone flew off the back and then me after, I had to agree with Scissor Sister, I didn't feel like dancing, at all.
• Although a good motivator, I am leaving my itunes unplayed from now on while athleticizing about the neighborhood.

If I am about to embark on a perilous journey to triathlon success, there is no better inspiration than to have my sidekick, Grace along for the ride. So I am currently searching for a fabulous jogging stroller. And by fabulous I mean a BOB Revolution or a BabyJogger City Classic (hint hint if you have one still in great condition.) For now our good friend Merryn is letting us borrow a well-loved but still in great condition Schwinn jogging stroller. It does veer to the left a bit and the sunshade is a joke, but it is a monster stroller and we're kicking ass and taking names all about Normaltown on a daily basis.

I'm going to do this. It will be a success, or at least some entertaining tales as I attempt some training. So far here are the hard, fast rules of the road (er, sidewalk):

1. During these morning jogs I am also taking it upon myself to be the change I wish to see in the world. I say "hello" or "good morning" to everyone. Regardless if you are black, white, pink, a toothless wonder smoking a butt outside Athens Regional waiting on the bus, or a sorostitute taking the walk of shame down Milledge, I treat you all the same my friends. A smile and a greeting for everyone. President Obama, yes we can!
2. Around mile 2 my left shoe starts squeaking. It is the orthopedic insert rubbing up against the Nike shoe bits that makes this noise. Sadly enough I have very flat, wide, jumbo feet. A nine & half wide to be exact (one can even make farty noises with the if I can get the suction just right with a bare foot). My feet the podiatric equivalent the offspring of Shaq + Bilbo Baggins might possess. I'm sorry this doesn't paint a pretty picture, but I manage to hobble onward.
3. It is hot as balls right now in Georgia! I need to get out before 10am otherwise sometime during my run I begin to get hot and disoriented all about my head. I don't think this bodes well or safe for poor Grace held hostage in the jogger.
4. Other people running inspire me. Don't be surprised when you trot by if I try to high-five you. It is motivating and right in so many ways.
5. If you are driving by, please feel free to honk, wave madly, and cheer me on. I may veer poor G into a utility pole, but the ego boost is so worth it!

the never ending morning...

It all began the night before (Thursday) when neighbor-friend got me all excited about Triathlon. Being of a stature built more for comfort than for speed, I had always assumed that a triathlon was composed of the standard Ironman distances. Clearly not for me. However I was introduced to the notion that there are varying lengths including but not limited to a "Lilah-length" triathlon. I Googled well into the eleven o' clock hour all jacked up and excited for a shorter yet reasonable escapade into the world of athleticism, endorphins, and all that fabulous junk.

I turned in to bed a little after 11:00pm and proceeded to roll and toss and fidget myself unsuccessfully to sleep until about midnight. Having Rob breathing loudly beside me of course did not help. When the acquisition of sleep becomes too difficult I believe in taking a break and then trying again. Thus I trotted my wonderful self into the living where I parked my tush in the man-chair to knit while enjoying a bit of the "Sex & the City: the Movie". Because really, could a midnight break get any better than my beloved pastime and four of my favorite fabu-lebrities? I got my fix and crawled into bed a little after 1:00am for some well-prepared for slumber.

Shortly after 1:14am the Gracie alarm goes off. There were no initial worries, she occasionally needs a little help back to sleep and I'm more than happy to oblige because she's my baby and that's what this mom does. Only she sounded horrible. There was mucho congestion all about her nose area. I rocked her, she cried, and we rocked some more. And more. And more. I finally put her down asleep and she woke instantly, crying of course. The diaper was changed, more rocking. She was put down in the crib again and woke instantly, again. We tried a bottle, and of course more rocking. I got her in the bed and to sleep around 2:45am and then retired to my spot of intended slumber only to hear her wake up, crying. This proceeded until 4:00am. I cannot remember how or why she finally gives in, I only remember that she did.

Amazing Grace woke up at her usual 7:30am, of course. Fan-flipping-tastic. I am not joking when I say I cannot function on approximately four hours of sleep. Six hours is a REQUIREMENT but a good seven to eight is what I prefer. I stumbled into the living room to find Rob watching Sport Center while eating his breakfast (normal morning behavior for the Rob) but I then found there were no clean bottles in our kitchen (note: in our family, bottle cleaning is Rob's job, period). Sputtering something about having to teach a class full of Navy Supply Corps Officers shortly, I brusquely interrupted that I didn't care if President Obama was waiting for him, he would not be leaving the house without some clean bottle in it.

Amazingly enough I was then awake enough to notice that Sesame Street was a re-run (it may be public broadcasting, but Grace and I are so over the "hat-wearing contest" episode, my friends). I also found time to cut my nails, because I sport shorty-short mom nails. I believe this look is both stealth and efficient in eliminating the space I can get baby-bodily-bits trapped up in there. I snuck a quick shower and updated my Facebook status (my priorities are clearly questionable). We were then on the road a mere five minutes late to the appointment I was able to clinch with the pediatrician.

En route, a very rude man cut me off from the FAR RIGHT LANE to get into the left turning lane at about 15/mph. Overtired Lilah-instinct utilized not just the breaks but the newly mom-iquered middle finger as well. Go me. Generously enough, my ipod shuffled us up some ABBA and I was instantly uplifted and found my second wind.

After checking in at the pediatrician's office, I brought Grace to the bathroom to change her out of her pajamas and soiled diapery mess. Shortly thereafter, one of the office nurses knocked at the door and announced they were ready to see us (clearly NOT because we had to wait over an hour for the doctor in the exam room). I rapidly tried to cram our stuff into the diaper bag while slinging 23lb Grace onto my sweaty hip in one felled swoop. When exiting the bathroom, the door sprung back unexpectedly into my poor child's head. Awesome. Grace was shrieking and the whole waiting room gave me "that look" as we marched shamefully to the exam room.

In the end we left with the cold we arrived with, no more, no less. I'm a good mom, and despite the head injury, I got us there and back safely. Getting her checked out turned out to be a complete waste of time, but mommy-instinct let me know it was the thing to do. Friday was the longest morning I could remember. Probably because it was an adventure packed 12 hours I was able to experience every single one of. Then again I am a mom, and I love it.