Slave to the Coffee

I’ll tell you what, until this morning, I was feeling a little cocky about being mostly well-rested and alert.  After all, the boys mostly sleep through the night and I get to bed at a decent hour and up at a decent hour and it’s sunny all day and this all combines to make me feel pretty good in the morning.  But today, we ran out of coffee.

 

Tony usually preps the coffee before he goes to bed, so I didn’t know that we were out until late last night, too late to go to the store (because I was in my pajamas, not because the stores weren’t open – once I’m in pajamas, I’m there to stay, and since I’m not a college freshman anymore, I’m unwilling to go out in public in my pjs).  I thought to myself, well self, you’re going to be fine.  You get enough sleep so you don’t really need that cup of coffee.  Besides, both times you were pregnant, you gave up coffee, and I know it was hard for a few days, but you was tired then and you’re not tired or pregnant now, so it should be easier to go one day without.  Buck up, self, you can do it!

 

Wrong.  I didn’t even make it until 8 am before I texted Leland to bring coffee to work for me.  At the first sip, the headache started to subside.  Cruel addiction.

 

This has all got me thinking, though… perhaps it’s time for a new coffee maker.  Ours is pretty old, 5 years or more, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to get rid of the musty odor it has acquired.  I have run vinegar and bleach water through it (not at the same time) to no avail.  The coffee we brew doesn’t taste very good anymore, so maybe it’s time for a change.  What kind of coffee maker do you have and do you like it?

 

Thanks to Leland, I also got to enjoy this lovely Slayer travel mug this morning.  If that doesn’t wake you up, I don’t know what will.

 

Running, Running, Running

Last week I ran or worked out (which usually involves a lot of running/sprinting) five days in a row.  And when I say “running,” I mean “4-6 miles.”  It’s not easy, but I’m getting stronger and, best of all, I’m more confident about Ragnar this coming Friday than I have been since I signed up in January.  Which I guess is how it’s supposed to work: you train, you get more confident, you feel good, you have a great race. 

 

Tony hasn’t really trained much.  I took the stitches out of his eyebrow on Saturday (here, let me wave my scissors menacingly at your eye!) and then he up and ran 7 miles yesterday and frankly, I don’t think that’s fair.  There’s NO WAY I’d be able to just go out and run 7 miles without working up to it gradually.  Men.

 

I ran a 5k on Friday night (the “Run Like A Girl” 5k, at which I won a wine glass that has “I run so I can drink wine” written on it and for which I got comments like, “That is so fitting!” and, “We were all thinking, ‘Amelia should totally win that!’” all night long… I guess I am much more of a lush than I thought) and had my best time ever.  If you had asked me last summer if I thought I could run an 8:20 mile, I would have told you that kinda fast was just dreaming.  But that’s what I did, 8:20-minute miles for over 3 miles.  Final time: 25:47.  I am so proud of myself, and every time that stupid voice in my head gives me the “yes, but” (yes, but there were people faster than you; yes, but no one thinks that 8:20/mile is fast; yes, but some people run whole marathons at that pace and faster so really, a 5k in 25:47 is no big deal), I shut it down and tell myself that I did an awesome job and I felt really good.

 

And I did feel good, in that euphoric, post-run stage.  But here’s the thing: I am not built for sustained running.  Five days of running and working out and I was useless yesterday.  I took a 2.5-hour nap in the middle of the day and did nothing else but play with my boys.  I have trouble eating because nothing sounds or tastes good.  My whole digestive system is revolting against me.  I haven’t pooped anything solid in a week.  The euphoric, post-run stage only lasts so long and then I feel terrible.

 

So I’m a runner, but I’m not.  I have worked really hard to get into distance running shape, but as I found out when I trained for my very first long run (a 10k six years ago), I am not built for maintaining the kind of conditioning needed to do a half-marathon or other long races.  I’m looking forward to Ragnar, yes, but I’m also looking forward to next week, when I’ll probably only run twice during the week and stick to 3.5-mile runs.  And then maybe I won’t get the runs.

Surprises and A Well Child

Charles likes surprises in theory.  He sort of thinks all surprises should be toys, but I’m trying to “help” my kids understand that a treat can be a movie, or a candy, or ice cream, or breakfast for dinner, or a special person coming to visit, or an unscheduled trip to the park, and that surprises mean that I don’t tell them much ahead of time.

 

My mom says that I used to have to know exactly what was going on every day.  I needed a schedule to feel secure.  I sometimes see this with Charles as he gets older: when we do something that was not, in his mind, “scheduled,” he can become a little upset, constantly asking “why” and looking for reassurance about the rest of the day’s schedule.  More often than a surprise activity, though, is when we have to cancel something I had scheduled and prepared him for.  Then he flips out. 

 

I love surprises, so I’m trying to show Charles that surprises are good things, that some of the fun in life is anticipating a surprise or getting a totally unanticipated surprise.  Yesterday, I received a surprise gift in the mail:

 

Rad necklace, huh?  I’ll get into chunky jewelry yet, you’ll see.

 

So I told the boys that I had a surprise for them yesterday afternoon.  When Leland pulled up in his new car, I yelled, “Surprise!” and told the boys they could help Uncle Leland wash his car.  Charles didn’t end up helping much, but he does think that having Uncle Leland come over for an hour or so is a wonderful treat.

 

Jamie helped:

 

 

 

That’s peanut butter dripped down the side of Jamie’s pants because while I was outside talking to a neighbor, the boys had a surprise for me: it was 5 pm and they were hungry, so they decided to eat peanut butter straight from the jar with giant soup spoons.  Luckily for the dog, they got peanut butter everywhere (later that night, I found that Buster had drug out the rag I had used to wipe up the majority of the peanut butter from the laundry room and was compulsively sucking on it).  This led to a surprise for Tony: dinner was postponed until 7 pm (since the boys had filled their tummies at 5) and he got to eat with us last night, instead of alone when he got home at 7.  Pretty good outcome, I guess.  I didn’t get mad, I just sighed and went with it.  No use yelling at your kids over spilled peanut butter, not when it’s nice outside and there are sports cars to wash.

 

It all might have been avoided had I given the boys their usual post-school snack, but instead, they ate applesauce pouches in the car on our way to the doctor’s office for Jamie’s two-year well-child checkup.  And what a well child he is, too.  Charles refused to get on the scale, so no official findings for him, but Jamie weighs 27 pounds and is 35 inches tall.  That’s one inch shorter and 6 pounds lighter than Charles at age 2.  Before we left, Jamie threw a nice little tantrum over getting his clothes put back on, so the doctor got to see the full range of his health.  The doctor kindly offered to help me wrestle clothing back on the little bug, and while Jamie was kicking the doctor, I shifted position while holding Jamie’s bucking torso and managed to head-butt the doctor.  Never a dull moment when the Cook family is around.

Busy Bees

It’s been a crazy week, as weeks go, but then I think back to the week before and the week before that and you know what?  They’re all crazy.  Every day is filled with this and that, errands and work and school and fun time and chores and there’s never a breather because even if we’re spending our time hanging out in the yard with the kiddie pool and the new slip n slide, we’re totally still doing things like weeding or dishes or making dinner or just trading off watching the kids while one of us studies or goes running or something.

 

I’m not complaining.  I’m not much good at “doing nothing.”  I like to get out and go, I like activities.  The TV doesn’t come on during the day unless it’s really raining AND someone is sick, so there are always activities to do in between the stuff I have to do as the matriarch of this little circus.  Mouths to feed and laundry to wash, you know.  I’ve never seen the kids bored because they make up their own adventures in the pool or behind the trees or with the train tracks.  We visit the library, we go berry picking, we go kite flying.  It’s more than wonderful to count on the good weather to get us outside.

 

Our new obstacle course.

 

Of course, the guilt and questioning is still there.  I’m a mother, after all.  I’m taking more and more time for myself to run, prepping for Ragnar (I haven’t told the kids yet that we’ll be leaving for two days, ugh).  I had a book club/girls’ night out on Monday.  Tony and I haven’t had a date night in a month or more, but I want to plan one, even though we seem to go out a lot for work-related functions – it’s not the same, you know?  But that will just take us away from the kids for another night.  And frankly, I find my attention span for the kids’ railroad-building and pool-jumping to be short; with a million other things to do, I am constantly going back and forth between chores and play.  I want to be the kind of mom who can play with her kids on the floor for an hour, but I just don’t like it.  I’d rather read them thirty books in a row, or help them play on the slides and swings at the park.

 

Pooped pooch after a 3.5-mile run.

 

I’m a go-er, so we pack our weeks with play dates and dinner dates and community concerts and farmers’ market visits and library visits and family runs/bike rides.  I try to tell myself that my compulsion to go DO things and to do them with my kids will make up for the fact that I don’t get down on my hands and knees very often to chalk up the sidewalk.  But I know it’s not true.  I don’t have to schedule us so much.

 

Beach time.

 

The only way I seem to be able to relax and “live in the now” instead of over-scheduling is to get way away from home.  Visiting my parents and in-laws over a long Independence Day weekend was perfect for this.  We all played on the beach and took naps together and went on walks and it was lovely.  In a couple of weeks we are going camping for a weekend and I am really looking forward to it.  

 

I think I need to change my focus.  I think we need to get out for camping or visiting a lot more often, just so I can let go and relax and be in the moment and not feel compelled to wash windows or run errands at every minute of the day.  I like to get out and go, to do lots of neat things and be busy all week, but damn.  I’m exhausted.  And I probably can’t sustain staying up late and getting up early just to get everything done for much longer. 

 

***

Eye Injury Update:  My husband looks like he is involved in a fight club.

 

Also, his whole eyelid has turned a vibrant shade of magenta (and is no longer so swollen), making him look like he has rockstar makeup on one eye.  I giggle uncontrollably whenever I catch sight of him.  Is it good to laugh at your spouse’s misery?  Who cares, it looks funny.

Elbow to the Face

Tony described his basketball style as “football” this morning.  I’m thinking maybe he should reevaluate meshing the two sports.  After all, in basketball, he doesn’t wear a helmet.

 

Though maybe he should.  Apparently, a couple of months ago, one of the other players broke an ankle.  Sheesh.

 

So we’re waiting at home for the doctor to get in to his office so he can stitch or glue Tony back together, and I thought I would show you what I’m wearing today (because right now I have a photographer):

 

 

A $12 black sheath dress from Wal-Mart, a similarly cheap chunky necklace from Wal-Mart (I bought large jewelry!  Hooray me!), a button-down shirt from Express that I bought, oh, ten or twelve YEARS ago, and black slides purchased at Payless Shoes yesterday.

 

I’ve mentioned before that I love Payless Shoes, and I honestly get the most compliments on the least expensive shoes I own.  You don’t have to spend a lot of money to look great.  What are YOU wearing?

More Than My Way

Something that never ceases to amaze me is how different we all are.  I know, like, this should be obvious, right?  But I have been reminded several times within the past few weeks that not everybody does it my way.  Not that I have been trying to impose my way on others (outside of my immediate family, and well, I’m mom, so my way is THE way), but I have had a few moments of “huh.” when the person I’m talking to about our plans for this, that, or the other thing looks at me in horror or screws up their face and says something like, “oh, that would just stress me out.” 

 

I have friends who might call this an accident waiting to happen.  My kids, and my niece and nephew, called it fun.  Honorary Aunt Stephanie doesn’t seem to mind it, either.

 

Part of it, I suppose, is personality; some people like to host giant backyard barbeques for their two-year-old’s birthday because it makes them happy to feed so many people and see them all have fun in their space (this is me), while others think that sounds like the seventh circle of hell.  Part of it is probably upbringing; my mom cooked all the time, so I cook all the time.  Also, my children are heathens, so we don’t like to eat out anywhere that isn’t especially kid-friendly.  When I was a kid, we always went to the beach just for walks or to play with dogs or to drive up and look at interesting things that had washed up and we never bothered about sand in the car or wet clothing or dirt, so now I don’t pay too much attention to the aftermath of a beach trip.  We are not so firm in our schedules that a special thing, like letting the kids stay up WAY past their bedtimes to watch fireworks once a year, is a problem – they’ll sleep in the next day, or nap in the car, they’ll probably fight a bit more and someone will cry, but eventually the world will right itself.

 

Dumping sand and water from the boots… before he took his wet clothing off and rode home naked.

 

But would you ever guess that NOT EVERYONE is like this?  Some people, whom I love and respect very much, do things differently.  My husband’s family ate out all the time when they were kids.  Look how much I love my husband anyway!  My sister-in-law and her family do not like sand in their car, so our beach-going styles are incompatible.  Plus, I want to get AWAY from the crowds and do not like taking my kids to the “main” beach during the season, and they do.  Look how much I love them anyway!  Their kids didn’t stay up for the fireworks on Saturday (yes, our hometown does two AMAZING fireworks shows, and I cannot even begin with the insanity and number of dollars spent on consumer fireworks) because the crankiness the next morning is not worth it in their eyes.  I understand that!  

 

‘Lil Patriot is not enthused.

 

It’s good to remind myself that there is no right way of doing things, lest I get all self-righteous.  There are whole industries built on the “my way is the BEST way, the ONLY GOOD way” line of thought, and you know what?  They’re wrong.  Certainly, there are some BAD ways, like never having a bedtime ever for your kids is pretty detrimental, it actually stunts their intellectual and emotional development, and there are some bad ways of eating, and disciplining, and then there are the monstrous things that don’t bear mentioning because they’re so wrong, but there are many many many good ways to do things and sometimes they are incompatible and contradictory but that doesn’t make them bad.  People are different, and that’s a good thing.

 

Don’t you wish you could just turn off the voices telling you “THIS.  THIS IS THE ONLY WAY.”  If I believed everything I heard or read, I would be paralyzed.  I would eat nothing but vegetables grown in my own garden, and maybe not those because my parents’ dog used to poop there.  I would think that my lack of artistic skill when it comes to craft projects and my dearth of time for learning how to sew is some sort of black mark on my character.  I would feel guilty all day for telling my son, as I did this morning, “Charles, I am frustrated right now because it is time to go to school and work and you are not following directions” because good moms don’t get frustrated with their kids and they don’t go to work, except when they have high-powered executive-level jobs at which they make a boatload of money, in which case working is actually setting a good example.

 

Maybe some days I just wish everything could be prefaced with “this worked for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only way.”  But if that were the case, no one would ever be able to sell a weight-loss book.

Birthday Celebrations at School in the Modern Age

There’s a girl in Jamie’s class who is allergic to nuts.  I have friends with kids who are gluten intolerant.  Others who can’t eat ice cream.

 

Remember when everyone just brought cupcakes to school and everything was good?  No more.

 

I’m here to tell you, though, that there is another way.  Another way that is, perhaps, even more exciting for young kids due to the many, many possibilities.  Another way that is gluten- and nut-free.

 

Rice Krispies Treats.  You can use fruity pebbles for some color, or shape them into a dragon, or frost them with a “Happy Birthday!” message, or just cover them in sprinkles and slice into servings as I did for Jamie’s birthday party at school.  Kids love ‘em, adults love ‘em.  No one has an allergic reaction and gets rushed to the ER.  They’re not even messy.  You’re welcome.

 

This two-year-old likes sprinkles best.

 

For the party we hosted at our house, I made messier desserts: a cream puff cake and a banana split cake.  They were both so delicious, I could cry.  I modified the cream puff cake recipe by using real whipped cream instead of Cool Whip and hot fudge sauce instead of Hershey’s syrup.  The banana split cake?  Well, I post the recipe sometime.  I’ve been waiting years to make it and it was every bit as good as I had hoped.

 

****

As of tonight, I’m on vacation, bitches!  See you next week!