"Falling Back" as a parent. Whatever.

So last night we set our clocks back. I remember when the turning back of the clocks was awesome, because you could stay up an hour later. Oh, how foolish I was to think that it would always be so simple. Yeah. Babies/toddlers don't care. They just know that it's the same brightness today as it was yesterday, so they might as well get up. After all, they went to bed last night at about the same time last night because they were so tired that their mom couldn't imagine keeping them up an extra hour just to help them sleep in the morning (which I'm sure ALL of my children will achieve at some point in their lives, but I'm not holding my breath that it will happen anytime soon).

Which brings me to my other kids. I currently have a 2nd and 1st grader, both of whom know their numbers. They know the difference between a 5 and a 6. But in my husband's infinite wisdom, he let them stay up probably a half hour later than usual, and what do you know? They're up at 5:15. What's the point of having a clock in your room when you disregard what it says? When you get up and turn on the light?

I've determined that once you become a parent, the whole idea of "sleeping in" is a totally lost concept. Except maybe if you're a dad, then, for some reason, these rules don't always apply to you... but that's a whole other blog post. Even if you don't have the kids with you, your internal clock has a real problem with sleeping past a certain hour. For this house, that hour is 7:30am. Anything past 7:30 is a LUXURY.

So I much prefer the Spring "spring forward". SO much easier to deal with. You feel like a new person, saying that your kids actually slept until 7:15 (you can live in denial about the fact that it is really 6:15, the rest of us parents won't tell).

Serious and Sad

I know that this blog is supposed to be a humorous look at my life (at least that's what it says in the title, not that my last few posts have been a reflection of that at all), I've been thinking about things for a while that I think I need to get off my chest.

Let me preface this by saying that I took a new job. I'm working as a paraprofessional (an aide, for those of you not familiar with modern school lingo) at my local high school. It's something that I'd been thinking about for a while, and I was offered the job 4 minutes into my interview, so I figured that either a), they REALLY needed a warm body, or b), my past experience as a sub with a teaching background made me qualified, or c) both a and b. Whatever the case, I applied for the job on Wednesday, interviewed the following Monday, started the job Thursday morning. It was good to be back at the school that I worked at for several years, even if many of the faces had changed (or I thought they looked familiar, but wasn't sure of exactly how). I was surprised to find out that the following day (Friday) was a day off. Sweet! One day in, then a day off. Then, the unthinkable happened.

Thursday night, when I got back from my other job (at 9:45 at night), I got on the computer to check my mail, the news, etc. from the day, since I'd been without a computer since starting work at 1pm. The top story is that a girl from a town by us had been murdered when she got home from school... she apparently walked in on a burglar in her house and was stabbed to death. She went to the high school that I now worked at. All I could think about was "did I have this girl in class today? Did I see her in the hallway? If I didn't, what students that I work with did?"

They haven't charged anyone with this horrific crime yet. The monster that did this is still out there, somewhere. Yes, I know that bad people are out there, I'm not so naive as to think that bad things can't happen to people that don't deserve it. But I've never been close enough to an event like this (luckily) to really have to stop and think about this and what it's done to this community, to these kids.

Yesterday was the first day back at school since Kelli was murdered. It was a bad day. There was a memorial outside the building with candles, flowers, and the like. There were news trucks with TV cameras aimed at the school for shots of "the first day back." There were lots of extra counselors, social workers, etc. Everyone was wearing black. What should have been a fun day of silly costumes and makeup was a day of mourning. Some kids were bawling, some just sniffling, and others just stared blankly into nothing... it was the elephant in the room that people didn't want to talk about, but you couldn't dismiss that it was there. I didn't quite know how I fit into all this, because there I was, on my 2nd day of work, having to deal with kids that I didn't really know (and they didn't know me) in one of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.

The monster that did this to that girl didn't just kill that girl. He invaded the lives of everyone in this community. Teenagers have so much to deal with already, it's a horrible shame that they now have to deal with this too. I hope that they catch whoever did this and hold him (or her) responsible. However, he didn't just murder an innocent girl: he has unleashed a terrible demon into the lives of everyone in this community, and I hope that sometime down the road that's a debt that repaid too.

A blog free October?

Where did it go? "It" being October. What the heck?

So it's official

I'm venturing out into uncharted territory in my life: church shopping. I've never had to do this before, never even thought about it, as a matter of fact. But, the time has come that I'm at that point in my life where I need to do it. It hurts to do it. It's like I'm betraying an old friend: I was brought up in this church, confirmed in this church, traveled the country with this church, was married in this church, and had all three of my kids baptized at this church... but it really doesn't feel like this church is my church anymore. And that makes me sad.

So how does one go about finding a new church? There are SO many questions that I don't even know how to start. I would like some place that's local, so I don't have to travel a ton to get there. But should I stay with someplace that's within the Methodist Church? Do I have to? Can I go to another denomination? I don't know the answer to any of these questions. Truth be told, I'm not sure if I'll be able to find a "church home" after 30+ years with one church being my home.

I want my kids to have a church to call "home" the way that I did. With Tom being a non-practicing Catholic, I'm the one that has to do this for them. I hope that I can find a place that they like to go to and WANT to go to.

The strangest part of this whole experience for me is how all-consuming it is. I'm not sure WHY that is, because I've not thought myself to be all that religious... but I almost feel as if I was betrayed by my family, and that's why I need to leave. The way I told it to a friend was that I feel like a sheep without a flock. I don't so much need a good shepard right now, but a flock would be nice.

Losing Faith

I've been thinking about this for a long time, but have never had the desire to put my thoughts to paper (er, screen) about this until now. For reasons that I don't want known at the moment, I'll be keeping part of this veiled in secrecy, so don't get all up in arms about why I'm being somewhat vague about certain things here.

I'm very annoyed. I'm annoyed with people who are supposed to be good, honest, caring people who are letting those who may be less than that represent them. No, I'm not talking about politics, but unfortunately, the situation has become political. WHY the need for a power play lately? It makes those of us who are on the fringe feel even MORE on the fringe.

I feel that some people are being dishonest with those they are dealing with. THIS is not the group that I love. These kind of actions are those of power-hungry individuals who want to have things their way or the highway. Really? Is THIS the best way to be dealing with this? THIS will not make for a stronger whole, but rather, I think, it will be cutting up an already shaky, unstable group of people and helping those who are on the fringe to feel like NOW is the time to jump ship. You DON'T help a struggling ship sail by gutting it. By telling people who are working on the ship that they'll be leaving port ...only to sail away in the middle of the night without them.

Yes, I'm frustrated. Yes, I may jump ship. I don't want to take lots of years of my life and have to start over... but how many times do you put up with this crap and hang on for a better day? At what point do you just say "it's been a good run, but it's time to part ways"?

Magic Number...

So this will be my 14th post in this blog... a new record for me. No blog that I've had has ever had this many posts. How pathetic.

We spent the day dealing with a lot of tears. Aren't holiday weekends supposed to be fun and relaxing? Not here. One of my boys spent the morning crying that he didn't want to go to the city (which he had told me previously that he wanted to do), but this child is famous within these walls for changing his mind... so I got all ready, fully expecting him to change his mind like he usually does. But he didn't budge this time, darnit. So I'm all excited to go, and he's put a total wet blanket on the "fun day with mom". Thanks, buddy. Love you too. So instead we went to Costco and bought large quantities of artichoke dip and cheese crackers. Thrilling.

After lunch, the other son decides that he's been left out of this morning's fun of crying, so now it's his turn. Oh goody. I couldn't even tell you what set it off. But all of a sudden, we're in the throws of "You HATE me!" "You do everything you can to make me miserable!" Dangit, he's caught on (and if you think I'm serious, stop reading my blog). I told him that if I really hated him, I would make him sleep outside, to which he responded, "Dad is the reason I don't. He loves me more than you do." There is no response to this nonsense. So I told him that he was being ridiculous and the conversation was over. What else could I do? I cannot have a conversation with someone that irrational and full of tears for no apparent reason.

What does a mom do? He KNOWS I love him, and, when he's more rational, he tells me he knows it. It's not as if I ignore him, or make him sleep in the basement, or any other number of ways that would legitimately make life miserable. But OH, the angst of being almost eight years old. I thought this was only girls who led lives of drama like this.

A Quiet House

So it's the first "real" day of school. Yeah, the boys went yesterday, but it was only for an hour and a half. This morning, I had to make them lunches (and had to remember who had what lunchbox, since they are both new this year) and get them out the door WITH their lunches. I didn't put any sort of a note in their lunches (but maybe I should have?) to tell them how much I love them and all that stuff... but then I remember, they're BOYS. They might not even use the napkin that I've written the little note on, much less READ it (I can hear it now: "Ugh, MORE reading?" Thanks Will, love you too, buddy.).

I have friends who get all weepy and sad when their kids go to school, but I'm not one of those types. Why should I be sad? The boys would much rather be at school than stuck at home for yet another day hanging out with me and their sister who has to nap in the afternoons. Don't get me wrong, we had a great time this summer, but it was definitely, DEFINITELY time to go back to school. They need it, I need it. It makes me a better parent, a better person. Not to mention what it does for them. They get to spend their day with kids they like, learning cool stuff, with teachers they love.

The house is strangely quiet during Meredith's nap. My husband, who works from home most days, has no radio on today, so it's REALLY quiet. I can hear him eating chips. I can hear the dog dreaming about something. The keystrokes on my keyboard sound especially loud. I know this will all change in an hour, but this is like a strange break from reality. It's one of the joys of late summer.

You'll not find me wiping tears from my eyes when my kids go back to school. Their going to school is one of the benefits of parenthood. I've raised kids who are smart, funny, and independent when they need to be. What more could I ask for?

T minus 19 hours and counting...

Until my boys go back to school. Not that I'm counting or anything.

This summer has been great, but I'm SO ready for my boys to go back to school. They need the structure that school brings that I'm just so horrible at delivering. It's times like this where I wonder how ANYONE can homeschool their kids. Yikes.

So this summer, we packed in a LOT of stuff. New stuff that the boys hadn't been exposed to before. I'm not so worried about Meredith this summer, as I can't imagine that she'll actually remember anything that we did... so this summer was about the boys (well, and the grown ups, but do we actually count anyways?). In June, we road-tripped to Philadelphia for a friend's wedding. It was a pretty quick trip, but the boys remember a lot of what we did, so that's a bonus. It's amazing the stuff they remember. Random stuff. Like the fact that Betsy Ross suggested to George Washington that the flag should have 5 point stars instead of 6 point stars because they're easier to cut out. In July, we went for our annual trip to Michigan, but kicked it off with a quick trip to Mackinac Island where we rode our bikes around the island. The thing that the boys remember about this trip? That the island is pronounced MackiNAW, not MackiNAC. They brought this point up when we were on a boat tour in Chicago the other day and the recorded tour was talking about the boat race from Chicago to MackiNAC island and the boys kept saying, "they've got it wrong! It's MackiNAW!" (so they ARE related to me!).

This summer was great. The boys were very sweet to their little sister, who has also come a long way this summer. At the beginning of the summer, she still was very limited in her talking, where as now, while she still has a long way to go, she babbles and repeats with the best of them.

This summer has been good. Fast, but good. And for next year, we need to remember to not front-load the summer. August drags EVERY SINGLE YEAR. Must plan a getaway in August next year. I'd love to do a train trip (we've only talked about it for 3 years, never being able to actually go), but we'll see. Maybe my parents will finally come through on the whole "let's have the boys come stay with us for a week at camp Gramma and Grampa". Oh, the luxury that would be...

Don't know if I'm ready for this

As a mom of boys, I've been pretty darn lucky. Yes, there are moments when I'm sure that my boys will end up killing each other because they're just so PHYSICAL with each other. For the most part, we've avoided drama (except for the obvious times when I'm the "worst mom in the whole world", usually because I've not let them watch 4 hours of Pokemon or allowed them to have McDonald's for a second lunch), which, hearing from my mom of girls friends, is a blessing (although I suppose it's just a matter of time for my share of that too). I'm just not sure if I'm ready for my boys to "like" someone.

I might have entered that world already.

Yesterday, we were at the zoo with some friends, and TJ starts walking with his friend, a girl, who will be in 3rd grade in the fall (ooooh, older women!). They were kind of by themselves, a few steps to the side of us. It was very obvious that there was something going on there. I asked him later what they were talking about, to which he immediately replies, "Nothing".

THIS is the clue. Really? A "nothing" that quickly really only means one thing: it was something. I tried to blow it off, not make a big deal of it, "were you talking about Harry Potter?" (they're both reading the books this summer) to which he immediately responded "No." Oh geez. I'm in for it now.

HE'S GOING TO BE IN SECOND GRADE. Lord help me now.

Awesome timing

In the words of my friend Natalie, "Seriously?"

We've actually made plans (reservations and all!) to go out to dinner tonight with my in-laws who will be in town. Granted, we're not going late, but still... dinner in a somewhat nice restaurant. OF COURSE today is the day that my usually awesome napping daughter cuts her nap and only takes a third of the nap that she usually takes. She seems to be in a good mood at the moment, but I'm sure that will change when we decide that it's time to leave for dinner.

This comes on the heels of a news story that I saw yesterday about this one restaurant (and apparently, it's a growing trend) that has become a "kid free" restaurant. It's all because some parents like to think that the world should revolve around them and their children, and the little cherubs can (basically) get away with just about anything because, well, they're just being kids. Whatever.

We all have those moments where our kids make us insane, make us look like we have no clue as to how to parent, and those are almost always witnessed by someone we know. Case in point: when I had to shove my middle child into the car so that we could go to church (oh the irony) as he's screaming, "BUT I DON'T WANT TO GO!" And, of course, my friend Katie is driving by as I'm doing this. At least she understands (or at least she led me to believe that she did). People without kids don't always get it.

I GET that kids shouldn't have free reign over every situation. I'm not in that school of thought at all. But for dopey, inept parents to ruin it for the rest of us who are just trying their best... well, that sucks. But I guess it's life.

Here's hoping that the place we're going tonight doesn't want to turn "kid-free" after we dine there tonight.

questions and answers

So my husband and I have sort of an ongoing joke with our middle child. Don't get me wrong, Will is a really awesome, bright kid, who I adore. However, he's not always the most observant one in our family. For example: we were on vacation in June and it had been raining pretty hard for at least 20 minutes. Will looks up and says, "it's raining?" Another example: yesterday, Tom went to work actually OUT of the house, and in the afternoon we were playing outside and I see Tom coming down the street. I say, "Look, here comes Dad." Meredith starts yelling "Da! Da! Da!" over and over while Tom is driving down the street (probably 10-15 seconds worth). Tom pulls in the driveway and Will says, "Mom! Dad's home! Dad's home!" Really? I hadn't noticed.

Will is constantly unaware of what day it is, whether it's a school day or the weekend, what season it might be (I joked with him the other day and said, "it's Christmas!" He replied with "Really?!"). I just don't know whether he's just really unaware or just THAT trusting.

So today, TJ comes downstairs with his school calculator that I had asked him to find (in a strange, out of body experience of being TOTALLY un-Jen yesterday, I went out and got most of the school supplies and put them all in the kids' new backpacks so it would be DONE. Will kept telling me, "Mom, I think we have more than enough time to do this later. We have almost a month.") so we wouldn't have to think about it any more. When I told TJ to just put it in his new backpack with his other school supplies, Will says, "Is today the first day of school?" Of course I immediately said no, but Tom suggested that I should have said yes, just to screw with him. I KNOW that his reply would have been "NOOOOOOO!!!".

I guess I LIKE the fact that he's always asking questions, but I just don't get how he can't seem to ever have any concept of what's actually happening. I know there are other kids out there that are the same way, I have friends that have told me as much. Maybe it's a middle child thing? All the kids I can think of that are like this are middle kids. I'm just afraid of that one day when I won't be the source of the answer to his questions. Sigh.

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened...

Perhaps that should be the underlying theme of my always faltering blogging experience... but seriously:

I was lying in bed this evening thinking about the past. I'm not a "glory days" kind of person, I rather enjoy the present. But there are times when I find myself really wishing that there were some things that I could go back and do-over. Not that I would do them any differently, just do them over for the sake of being able to have that experience again. I started thinking of this the other day when I was listening to an Amtrak pull into the La Grange Road station and all of a sudden I was a kid waiting at the Joliet train station with my mom waiting for the train to go to my grandparents' house in Bloomington (we didn't always take the train down, but it was something I always enjoyed doing).

But this got me to thinking: why is this? On my anniversary, I don't necessarily think about my wedding day, but I think about my marriage now... so different, so much better than that first day of my husband's and my life together. So why is it that when I hear the locusts sing in the late summer, I wish I was at Bortell's Ranch, the summer camp that I went to every summer from 1984-1992? This camp was the highlight of my YEAR as a kid. We didn't go on too many family vacations, and I don't feel that I missed out on that sort of thing, because I so loved going to camp each summer.

Bortell's doesn't exist anymore, which makes me very sad. I wish that I could give my kids the opportunity to go away to this wonderful place where we would go horseback riding every morning for an hour or so, with the likes of horses named "Triple Tanny" (my horse for several years) or "Pepper" (my horse for only one year, my first, and it's amazing that a 9 year old kid would actually want to get back on a horse after dealing with Pepper's antics, but I digress...). I almost remember the schedule at camp like I went last week, not almost 20 years ago (yikes!): we would get up at 7 (unless you were a horse catcher, then you got up at 6:30), then ate breakfast, went back up to the bunkhouse and cleaned and made your bunk. At 8 you would go down for flag raising and be on your way to horses, crafts, and sports/free time. There would be "bank" in the morning, when you could get a snack, then at noon, lunch was served. There were awards daily for the cleanest bunkhouse, the one would went to sleep first the night before... and the food was AWESOME. I actually have a Bortell's Ranch cookbook (not that I've ever made anything out of it, but...) In the afternoon there would be rest period, then swim time, then "bank", then afternoon "free" time, which, now that I think about it, doesn't really seem all that free, because you had to pick from a select few activities offered that day. After free time there was dinner, then night activities, then showers, then bank, then flag lowering, then songs and bed at 9pm. A full day. An awesome day. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back there and do that again. Or at least have my kids have the chance to do it. But Bortell's closed and is now some camp for underprivileged kids. I'm sure it's a great experience for those kids now, but not nearly the same.

This is very therapeutic, to put this all on paper (ok, so this isn't paper, but you know what I mean)... I'm not sure the last time I talked at length about my camp experience. My camp experience is probably the biggest reason that I chose to go to college in Iowa. And probably why, at some point in my life, I would love to go back and live in Iowa on a horse farm that had Great Danes running around, gravel hills to climb up and down, lakes to swim and fish in, archery and riflery (to do at least once), trails to ride and friends to make, even if I ended up never seeing them again. Even if it would just be for a week in July.

So I'll end with this little ditty that we sung every night at songs at camp (and why I can remember this song after so many years but NOT the thing that I went to the basement to get beats the heck out of me):

Friends, I will remember you, think of you, pray for you
and when another day is through, I'll still be friends with you.
Remember the fun we've had here, remember when you're away.
Remember the friends you've made here, and don't forget to come back some day.
Remember the blazing campfires, the fun and frolic too...
'Cuz you kids belong to Bortells' and Bortells' belongs to you.

Four martinis with the principal

So the title is true, but not what this post is about... sorry. Bait and switch, I know.

The question of the day is how do I get my daughter to keep things in her hair? She's looking like a little ragamuffin. Have I used that term in the last 25 years? Doubt it. I don't really want to have to go get her a haircut, but she's got an interesting 'do, that's for sure. It's really long in the back (when it gets wet), but curls up to just below her ears when it's dry. On top, there's all sorts of a party going on, but it's all kinda still that baby curl stuff. But of course, she won't let me put anything in her hair for any amount of time at all... no little silicone bands, no clips, nothing.

And I know this is partially my fault: she didn't have very much hair for the longest time, so I didn't bother. I'm not really a frilly person (shocking, that, I know), and I'm not gong to buy some hairband with a GIANT FLOWER (or the like) on it like some people do. There was one girl who came into the store one day with what looked like a small ballerina on her head, it had sooooo much tulle on it.

I hope I'm not raising a daughter who ends up having short hair because I can't get my act together enough to figure out how to do someone else's hair (thanks, Mother). Maybe that's why I was blessed with 2 boys and a girl instead of 2 or 3 girls.

Me, according to Will

So while I posted all the things that TJ told me about myself, I didn't tell the things that Will told me about myself (his answers are put in quotes)... so (thanks for the idea, Natalie), here goes nothing:

-What I know about my Mom: My mom is very "funny and smrt" (off to a good start here!). She is "46" inches tall. She weighs "100" pounds (just a little off). She has "blue" eyes. She has "brown" hair. Her favorite color is "rainbow".

-My Mom's favorite food is "pan caks", but she doesn't like "brnt pan caks" (who would?).

-She spends most of her time doing "Tels me to clein the basmint."

-The thing my Mom likes to do for fun is "watch twi lit." (see attached picture... makes it all the better!)

-My Mom always says "clein the basmint" (I'm sensing a pattern here...)

The End.

I need to hire someone to work on my image with my children.

No Stealing!

So here's my idea: and this will only make sense to those of us who have come to develop a NEED for coffee on a regular basis... I'm going to create a coffee delivery service. For those days when you can't get it together enough to get out of the house but YOU REALLY NEED A COFFEE. Not like a cup of whatever-you-can-brew-up-yourself coffee, but the kind that someone makes for you. Always seems to taste better to me anyways.

This won't work in places where around every corner there's a Starbucks (or something like it), and it won't work somewhere where there are a TON of drive-thru coffee shops. Nope. It will only work in places that are like the place that I live. I COULD drive a few extra minutes to get to a Starbucks with a drive thru, but #1, it's out of my way, #2, I'm not ALWAYS wanting Starbucks (hello? I enjoy Caribou more anyways, and while I do know that drive-thru Caribou's exist, there aren't any reasonably close to here) and #3, sometimes even getting all the yahoos (or even one yahoo) in the car is more work than I can handle. Bring on my coffee delivery service: "Joe Mama". Get it? NO STEALING NOW. You read it here first.

I would totally buy into this. I don't have to get dressed? I don't have to get the kids dressed? All I do is go online (easier than having to call someone) and coffee shows up at my door? Totally worth it sometimes. Now, I'll give you the fact that it's a LUXURY. But sometimes life really requires a bit of luxury. So... who wants to invest?

"That's our slogan!"

I'm not trying to be biased, but some people really should try harder at the English language before you go so far as to get a sign for your company truck. It's like the dopey cookie people at the mall... "It's You're Birthday", printed on a giant, takes at least a dozen people to eat it cookie. Yeah, no. If someone were to give me a cookie like that, I would really hope that they got it for free. Or at least noticed that they were telling me it's YOU ARE birthday. What the heck? This really isn't that hard.

And then we get back to the company truck. Granted, this person's first language might not be English. I get that part. But if your business (or should I say you're... aaaggghhh!!!!) is mowing the lawns of primarily English speaking suburbanites, you'd think that you could maybe get someone to do a glance over at your little (or, in this case, big) sign for your truck before someone like me rides around it and thinks, "gosh, I'm not sure I'd hire this company." Because, you know, yardwork requires perfect grammar and skills. This truck says the name of the landscaping company and "Free Estimates". Is this their company slogan? Are they not sure if it's really going to be free? But I guess that would be "free" estimates, with a little ;) at the end.

This is not me saying that everyone should speak English. This is me saying that if you're going to do something in ANY language, please make sure it's correct. Because you just might lose my business because I'm anal about that sort of thing. And I'm sure you're disappointed about that.

Should I really be flattered?

I went clothes shopping today. Without children. That right there means that I actually went shopping, rather than just running into the store, grabbing a few things in my size, paying for them, only to try them on at home to realize that things on a size 0 mannequin in the window don't look nearly the same as they do in my size on me. Shocking, I know. But the THRILL! Shopping without having to wonder which racks the boys are playing in and without having to take a stroller into the dressing room with me? Whoa. I almost didn't know what to do with all the room in there.

So I went dress shopping. I'll confess, it was fun having a saleslady waiting on me. I actually asked her to help me put accessories with this dress... what? Really. Accessories. Not that I bought them, but it was like playing dress up. But here's the strangest part, and maybe it's just me, but... since when do stores not put mirrors INSIDE dressing rooms? So I was forced to go and look in this GIGANTIC mirror outside my fitting room. So, of course, everyone in the store could come oooh and aaaah at my feeble attempt to look fashionable. So I can't help but stand there and realize that I just can't pull off the same type of dress that I did 10 years ago. Even the sales lady said, "you're looking at your knees and arms, not yourself in the dress." And maybe she was right (ok, she was totally right). But there was still something not right about the dress (even without noticing my arms and knees).

Then I try on dress #2, which I really wouldn't have picked out from the window display, but it was a fun dress none the less. Of course, since I have to show the entire store myself in the dress because of the car-sized mirror, a woman came up to me and says, "You have great legs, Young Lady." Well, thanks! I think. Wait... this wasn't some young hot guy, or even someone close to my age... think 40 years older than me. So basically, it's like my grandma telling me I look good. Which I would HOPE that she would do, because honestly, when I'm 70-something, I KNOW that I don't usually look as good as someone half my age, and I'd be happy to tell them that they look nice.

So I don't know. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth? I should be flattered, I know... but we'll see what my kids say later. That's when the real truth comes out: "Mom, WHY are you wearing a DRESS?"

Surprise! My Favorite Food is Salad!

Of course, because I eat salad at least once a week. I'm starting to wonder if my children pay attention to me at all. I mean, I'm sure they do... like occasionally they'll notice if I get my hair cut or if I'm gone for a week or something... but is this really what my kids think of me?

This comes up because T.J., my 7 year old, made one of those books that they make moms for Mother's Day. It's actually really great, but has some very interesting (and little known) facts about me and my relationship with my son in it. For example: "My mom likes to play tennis." Funny. We played once at the park 2 weekends ago and we left after about 15 minutes because the boys couldn't keep the ball even close to our court. So I told them that we'd come back to the park when they can hit the box that I've made on the garage door with their ball 10x in a row. Another example: "My mom is funny when she does a handstand." Huh. I didn't know that I've been doing handstands in front of him (or anywhere, for that matter), but I guess I should do more, because it's amusing. Then there's the whole salad thing. The picture that accompanies this statement is amusing as well, because T.J. (you know it's him because he's chosen to label who is who in the picture, just for clarification) is up near the fridge (with a fork), and I'm sitting at the table with my salad, which looks like enough salad to feed my family its salad quota for the month.

Another example, but this one finally proves that my son does listen to me from time to time: "My mom does not like to yell." Notice this does not say that my mom does not yell, because that would just be a lie. Instead, he's chosen to highlight my statement that I always seem to be saying AFTER the yelling has commenced... "Do you think I LIKE to yell? Well I DON'T!" Ah ha. He's paying attention. Then there's the "My mom is afraid of spiders" statement, which is true as well, but what the picture DOESN'T show is that the only other person in the room with me and the spiders (which, by the way, makes our house look like it could double as a dungeon) is my husband, who is carrying a shoe to save the day. My other children are nowhere in the picture, as they, too, scream like girls when they see a spider. So while this statement is true, it's making me look unnecessarily wussy-ish.

Lastly, "My mom always tells me the news online." Because he's so interested, I guess. At least he's not putting down something like "my mom is always on facebook."

Attempt # 2

At a blog. I have been told umpteen times by many people that I should be blogging. Perhaps I'm a good writer? I doubt I'll be making my millions on this anytime soon. Darn shame, that.

Anyhoo, in all truth, this blog title belongs to my friend Chris, who fooled me into believing it existed already. It should have already existed, because I KNOW there are lots of us out there... you know, women who have a certain image in their heads about how we WANT to look, but then look in the mirror and realize how we DO look... but aren't about to let those calories from our social outings get in the way of having a good time. So we run. We run together so that we hold each other accountable.

I've never called myself a "runner", even though I have the leg length that would certainly suggest that I could be. I ran cross-country in junior high and started in high school, then quit. I'm not very good at keeping the commitment. I have great intentions every Spring, but by the time July comes around, I'm easily coming up with excuses as to why I don't want to run today: it's too hot, too buggy, I need more sleep, there might be a thunderstorm because there are clouds over some sections of the midwest... you get the picture.

So perhaps with the fresh start of a new blog (and a 5k eight days away), I'll actually blog. And oh yeah ...run.