Hey! Where've you been?

Where have I been? Raising kids, duh! Where else - the bahamas? Truth is, it's extremely unmotivating to be writing for an audience of one (myself). However, I am not ready to announce to my world that I am writing. I have too much to learn, mostly the dicipline of writing everyday. I have wheels and ideas spinning constantly and am sure one day I will take off on one of them. Until then, I am going to practice here. But I am alive and thinking about making blogging a much more regular habit. Right after Christmas....

The $140 popsicle

I have to have the nastiest carpets in 'hood. Last week, a few drops of coffee sploshed out of my mug to the carpet, and I didn't even bother to try to clean it. It's that bad. Although completely mortifying, the nice thing about totally ruined carpet, is that it's less stressful. When the Pinenut pees on the carpet, Mr. Hilarious spills red wine, the Walnut barfs, or the Peanut knocks over a full mug of coffee, it's okay. I mean it's already ruined. Note how none of it is my fault. Mr. Hilarious has gotten to the point where he doesn't like to invite people over. The carpets coupled with our 1970 hand me down pink and blue tweed couch with a gash in one cushion and neon green gum on the other is simply too much for him. I, on the other hand, am the first to volunteer to host a play date. 20 kids, glitter glue and kool-aid - no problem.
Lately, the carpets have gone from stained to filthy. My husband inferred "we" weren't vacuuming enough. "We" means "me" since I am the sole cleaner which is why the home is a mess. I discovered that our pricey Dyson cleaner (a gift from my mother in law - a hint, maybe?) was not doing the job. It wasn't sucking at all, or it totally sucked depending how fond of puns you are. So I finally got around to taking it into a repair shop. While there, my Pinenut says "I have to pee on the potty!" While he doesn't do this at home, I have to take him when he asks. When we emerge from the bathroom, the repair-man has the Dyson in pieces and is holding a popsicle stick.
"Here's the problem!" Apparently that stick lodged in one of the pipes which created a dam for popcorn, and the tube was totally blocked. I was so excited that the machine wasn't broken. The shop is mother, son plus the grandma and grandpa and two dogs! How can you not trust these people? However, when the repair-man says "I'll clean her up for you and give it a basic tune up for $80," I wanted to say "oh, no thanks!" and scoop up all the pieces and bolt. That is probably bad form with the whole family there, so I skulked away thinking I just wiped out my "miscellaneous" money for the month.
Then the repair man calls the next day saying I need a new belt for 60 more bucks. I asked Mr. Hilarious who said "I guess we have to pay. I mean, it's not like we really know." And we don't really know, so what can we do? So I paid $140 dollars for sucking up a Popsicle stick, which shouldn't have been on the carpet in the first place. That's basically a new vacuum. Looking on the bright side, it is nice to have a working vacuum. I came home and vacuumed, filling an entire canister in just one room. Gross! I then borrowed my friend's steam cleaner. I have to say, the carpets look awesome. Mr. Hilarious says, "They still like look garbage." True. But it's clean garbage.

Good Mom

I have always had a selection of kids CDs, but rarely listen to them. I prefer 92.3 or classic rock or NPR. Unfortunately, my kids scream about how much they hate it so loud that I can't hear anything. So I have done something that I think deserves a gold medal in motherhood. I have started to listen to the annoying kid songs. I am not talking radio Disney here. I have gone all out library CD in 5 of my six 6 CD spots in the car. You wouldn't think this was worth mentioning. However, I have just spent an entire day of carpooling and errand running listening to the Backyardagains. Those little sh*ts may look cute, but without their rad dance moves, they are unbearably annoying. I'm tone deaf, and even I can tell that one of them can not hit a note to save her life. Alas, my two year old is obsessed. The five year old is even on board. My oldest is happy with all music, as long as she can along. She may actually be the before mentioned character who can't hit a note. So when my pinenut asks "mommy, can we play it again, please?" and I say, "okay" (I do groan. I am not arguing that I am perfect), it is the mark of great self sacrifice.

Because I could see this small gesture of unselfish parenting quickly driving me to insanity and possibly causing me to drive into a guard rail simply to make the singing stop, I spent close to an hour researching kid music. I requested a dozen new CDs from the library. It is shocking how many popular artists have made children CDs. I selected performers that are already in my itunes library. Bob Dylan, Dave Matthews, Ziggy Marley, and Jewel are just a few who have made music for the three nuts in the backseat. I am so hopeful the kids will compromise with me on this before I rip the CD player from the dash. Not only would it be expensive to repair, but with 5 library CDs in there, I think I would have a replacement fine close to nine hundred bucks.

Werewolf

I want a dog. Mr. Hilarious wants a snake. We constantly feed information about these pets to our kids hoping the kids will want what we want enough to sway the other parent. We are both losing so we are currently a pet less home, and honestly, I am secretly glad I don't have yet another PIA.
So my Peanut is reading aloud from a book about a dog. From left field, my Walnut says "I want a snake." He obviously thinks his dad is super cool and is going to follow his cue.
The Pinenut says "I want a werewolf." I bust out laughing, but he is so serious.
He is thinking deeply, then says, "No I want a dog, because a werewolf is too scary for me." Well thank goodness we don't have a third pet in contention. And by the way, there is no way in hell we are getting a snake.

The I Need a Break Contest

I heard my friend tell me that she was failing as mom. She is one of the most selfless, loving mothers I've ever met. What was more disheartening than hearing this wonderful mother doubt herself, is that I told her the exact same thing about myself the week before.

We read countless articles about how to raise a good eater, how to raise a thankful kid, how to raise the happiest kid on the block. Then when our kids don't follow the plan, we feel like failures. We feel really bad confessing that somedays the "perks" of parenting (cute smiles and seeing milestones) aren't enough. Kids can be PIAs. They really are. I know mine are in a continuous battle to push me until I rip out my eyes everyday.

The only reason I don't run for the hills is that I have wonderful friends who laugh with me about the same frustrations. I have a friend who often says, "I think I will walk out to the mailbox, and just keep on walking." I know that kids getting on my last nerve is part of parenting, and it's okay to admit that somedays I don't want to be a stay at home mom anymore. But I don't quit, and I deserve an award for that.

Our job is hard. To make it easier, we need to stop trying to be mother of the year, and start admitting our big busts. I want to read about other moms' mistakes and frustrations and then laugh and move on. Thus the "I need a break" contest. Enter your story when you felt like quitting, but didn't. Tell me about the day you actually walked to the mailbox, but managed to come back.

If I could, I would give every mom I know an all expense trip to a spa in the Caribbean. However, I am a stay at home mom, not an heiress. However, I will take $10 from my grocery budget and buy a Starbucks card. If the website ever generates money, I will add it all to the pot. For now, I will pick the winner each month. I am assuming I may only get one a month, so the winner will be easy to pick. If I start getting many entries, I will think of a new method.

Rules:
1. No bragging, and I won't be fooled by the "my daughter is so smart that she really embarrassed me" stories.
2. Keep it short. We're parents and don't have all day to sit in front of a computer screen.
3. Dads can enter too.
4. Don't get mad if you don't win. Enter again!
5. One entry per month.
6. Entries due the first day of the month before (example: for April's contest, entries are due March1st)
7. Email themommarathon@yahoo.com with entries nd questions.

Threatened at McD

Saturday night we picked up the Walnut from friend's house. It was so late, and Mr. Hilarious was leaving for Vegas in the morning so we decided to stop at McD's for dinner. They have a play place, and while we don't usually eat dinner there, we go often for icecream and playtime.
Mr. H has a fear of condiments and knows that Murphey's Law forbids fast food restaurants of leaving his hambuger plain. After we all sit down, Mr. H discovers mustard and goes back to the counter to exchange them. It happens more often than not, so it's expected. We are sitting at the first table inside the door of the playplace, and the counter is straight out the door. It is taking Mr. H forever, and the lobby is packed with people. I see him tell the lady, and she calls the order back. It is still taking forever. I am finished eating, and the kids are already playing again. Now Mr. H is usually a polite guy, even when he has to wait an unreasonable amount of time. But when someone is rude to him, he doesn't shirk away. Which is what happened during a simple hamburger exchange on an innocent Saturday Night.
The manager comes out and says to the crowd "has everyone been helped?"
Mr. H says, very nicely, "actually, I am waiting on those hamburgers, sitting right there. I just want to exchange these"
The manager gives him a total blank look, looks over Mr. H's head and says louder "has everyone been helped."
And then Mr. H is no longer in the mood to polite and patient so imagine all of his dialouge with a smart tone.

He says, "no, man, I have not been helped. I want those hamburgers right there."
Now the manager must have had a very bad day, because he immediately adapts an angry tone.
Manager, "You can't talk to me that way!"
Mr. H: "What is your problem? Just give me my hamburgers!"
Manager: "You need to show me some respect"
Mr. H: "You need to show me some respect!"
Manager: Nostrils flaring, "This is my store."
Mr. H: "Just give me my hamburgers, and I'll go."
Then manager throws the hamburgers at Mr. H, who gives the hairy eye ball and starts heading back to the childplace.
Manager (now yelling across the lobby) "That's right, you better walk away before something happens!"
Mr. H (also yelling) "What's gonna happen? What are you gonna do?"
He turns and comes into child area, packed with kids and parents all staring at him, agape.
But it's not over. The manager comes across the counter, storms through the crowd of people in the lobby, busts into the child area and puffs his chest into Mr. H's face and yells "You want something to happen? Let's make it happen! Come on, make it happen"
Mr. H's eyes are the same height as this man's chest. He's big and mean and mad. Mr. H is visibly shaking he is so mad. He says through gritted teeth, "I am here with my family."
I stand and am hysterically yelling, "there are kids in here!"
The entire McD's staff has cleared the kitchen and drive thru area and are all yelling for the manager to come back. So he turns and leaves and Mr. H says we have to go. By the time we call our kids and get their shoes on, the whole store has emptied. If I had an iphone, I could've recorded it, send it to McD's corporate and be sitting on a yacht right now. As it is, we are afraid to make a formal complaint so that crazy man would have our names and address. So Mr. H is writing an anonymous letter and I am boycotting McD's. That'll show them!
When Mr. H said "we're never going there again!" I agreed, but secretly thought, "No Mcd play land? Great, another thing that makes my life harder!

Big Hairy Goal

Every month I have a new plan for what I am going to do when the kids are all in school. I do not live and breathe for my kids. I want a life all my own and thing staying at home is wonderful, yet totally unfulfilling. Many moms are content staying home, I am just not one of them. I chose to stay home because I really do believe it is best for my kids. However, I also did not have much choice because I did not have a job that could pay for daycare (let alone three kids' daycare) So here I am, nine years removed from the work place (not counting the serving jobs and baby sitting stints). What am I going to do?
Recently my ideas have been: nurse, paralegal, freelance writer, author, Montessori teacher, eco center/family garden business owner, costume designer, yoga instructor, college prof. Seriously, I am all over the place and unsure where to go. Every time I say "I have a new idea!" Mr. Hilarious tries not to laugh.
I am going to start small. If I am going to be a blog writer, I need to write more regularly (daily?) and have a little focus. I haven't even told anyone about this blog because I think no one would want to read stories of my life. I need a little more focus. I need a niche. I really need a happy nappy. Maybe it will come in my dreams.

Hair Cut

I have a secret addiction to Groupon. What a great invention. All the things that I would never spend money on, sent right to my email at half price. I am a spontanious buyer and have managed to create a nice little stockpile of deals in my groupon account. When I recently checked my groupons, I had bought seven and not spent one of them. I decided I needed to get on it before I became one of the those horder ladies who bought junk and crammed into a room until there was no where left in the house to stand. So I decided to spend my groupon to a fancy salon. For 25 bucks I got $80 to spend at a swanky salon where prices for a haircut start at $50. I had already cut about 15 inches for locks of love six months ago. My hair was still short, but I could just squeeze it into a pony. In truth, I liked my long hair and want to grow it back. However, when you are used to getting your hair cut by the students at the hair school, and you get a chance for a $50 hair cut, you can't just get a trim. So I told my stylist I wanted a new look, and it could be anything as long as it was low maintence. By that, I mean airdried and done. I am not going to kid myself into pretending I will ever blow dry or flat iron my hair regularly. I am lucky if I run a brush through it. Yep, I am that mom, and I am really not all that embarrassed about it.
So the hairstylist asks me, "if you had to put a sign on your head with one word, what would it say?" I wanted to say, "Desperately trying not to lose my mind," but that's more than one word. When I didn't immediately supply him an answer, he made suggestions: "Trendy, classic, sophisticated?" Well, none of those... "Fun!" I said, very sure of myself. So he gave me a very fun, super short do that flips out all over the place and looks great airdried. It looks terrible straight out of bed, so now I have to take a shower before I go anywhere. I usually only take showers after I run or before a fancy date, so I think I will be buying lots of hats.
When I saw my son after the big cut, he looked at me, smiled sheepishly, and said "you cut your hair." I said, "yea! Isn't it fun?" He kept smiling but didn't answer. My daughter jumped in and started talking nonstop about the hair cut and her hair cut and remember when we both got our hair cut. When she came up for air, I quickly said, "I don't think your brother likes my hair." He said, "Well, I was trying to keep my feelings to myself." How sweet. It's okay that I am raising a boy who likes long hair as long he doesn't want to hurt feelings more.

Crazy train

I've been riding the crazy train the past few weeks and I am not sure if it's MY train that's crazy or if I am on someone else's crazy train. I am going with latter because if unclear, why not blame someone else? Mr. Hilarious has always joked that I attract crazy people. He even suspects he might be crazy and not know it since the vast majority of my friends are crazy. Most aren't my real friends, but I keep them around for entertainment value. If I didn't open myself up to these crazy people, I would be much more boring at dinner parties. But with a chronic liar who was so smart mensa asked her join, but was too hung over to sign papers, there is always a great story. I know a woman who runs thirty miles a week just so she can use the child watch at the gym and get a break from her kids. Wait that's me, but I never said I wasn't a little crazy. I'm just not as crazy as the woman who included her pot growing room on the tour of her home during a playdate, or a woman who had an affair, got pregnant, went back to husband and they raised the baby like the affair never happened. Really, I know these people. They are living amoung us in sububia. And really they are great, funny people, 90% of the time.
But sometimes, the drama is too much and I have to get off the train. Lately, I've been feeling less social and wondering if I need to simplify. I already decluttered the whole house, and now may be the best time to declutter my social time. People ask me for my time and I feel guilty saying no. So I make room for them and run out of time for the people I care about most. I talk on the phone way too much. I talk way too much. This month, I am going to practice the art of silence. I am going to use the phone for no longer than ten minutes at a time. I will ask three questions before talking about myself. I will take one run a week alone. I don't even know if silence is better than talking, but I hope it will be less stress and more time with my family. I want to be a good friend to people, but I can't be a good friend to so many people that I am not a good friend to my family and to myself.

Business Plan

Now that the weather is taking a cooler turn and my two oldest are back in school, I have fallen into a more regular running routine. I am not sure if it's the weather or the conversation, but I had an awesome eight mile run on Saturday, a speedy six miles yesterday, and another great six miles today. Today, we made a wrong turn which added to our usual hilly run and I wasn't even put off by tacking on an extra half mile. I am actually bummed that I can't run tomorrow because I have to take the car to shop and spend half the day at the library hoping they can fix whatever it is that is causing my car to stop in the middle of the road. Yeah, it's that bad.
Saturday and today I ran with my favorite running partner and best friend. Durning our runs we have talked about launching a business. Part of me thinks I must be crazy to add another thing to my hectic life, but the other part of me knows I am crazy and will find enough to run the extra mile.
In this case, the extra mile is a business. We've tossed ideas around for years about careers we would enjoy, be purposeful, allow us to care for our kids, and be flexible. After all, I realize that even after I start a career, I will still be the mom bus, the cook, the shopper, and the housekeeper (even if I am a bad one). Our latest brainstorm meets all of our demands: an educational eco center that is focused on green living and purposeful parenting. We don't want to teach, but would like to provide the time, space and materials for parents and their children to come together. We see it being child led and extrememly nature driven. I see a natural playscape, square foot themed gardens, flower gardening, and recycled crafts. Now I need to research how to start a business.

The Stress Erasing Run

We have some serious family drama going down. I've been made POA over my dad, and it's a mess. I've spent the weekend researching sollutions and crying. I sobbed to my husband last night that I was so stressed, I didn't even know where to start.
This morning I started with a run. It was a six mile run with my runner partner/best friend/ therapist. Even though it was hot as hell, it was an amazing run. We ran the hilly six mile loop that is becoming our regular route. My quads were aching from the strength class on Thursday, or maybe it was just the stress planting in my legs. But I ran through it, griping most of the early miles until I settled into a comfortable pace. I came home, showered and again made the calls needed for my dad's affairs. Even though I had the same snaffus as I had the days prior, the day was so much smoother. I need to start every stressful day with a run. Good results follow.

The Offseason

Runners run for the love of running. It is a need that must be met. I feel this way which is why I can call myself a runner. The rub is that once I skip a few days of running, it's really easy to let running slide. It is a slippery slope. In the past three weeks I have run no more than 12 miles a week. That's two runs a week. I am not feeling much like a runner.
Being the awesome mom that I am, I am gloing to blame the kids. Raising kids and being a runner means that not only do you have to be a routine, but your kids do too. We are a busy family so I must schedule my runs or they won't happen. I've learned that if I don't run by 10AM, it's just not gonna happen. Family life is too hectic. Summer running is usually sporadic with all the trips and visitors, but once school is in session we are all forced into a routine. The regularity of waking early every morning, eating and getting dressed by 8 AM allows me the luxury of running at least four days a week. Ideally, I take my kids to the child watch at the Y Tuesday-Thursday and run either on the treadmill or on the trails near the Y. Then I run longer on the weekend when my mom can hang with the kids. Mr. Hilarious works an ungoldy amount of hours which include most nights and Saturdays. I could get up and run at 6AM before Mr. Hilarious leaves, but then I would have to go to bed at 9PM. When would I see Mr. Hilarious if I did that? It's out of sheer love of my husband that I don't wake up in the cold, pitch dark to run every morning. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
This amounts to three days at the child watch for my two youngest kids. I feel no guilt being a stay at home mom who uses day care an average of 3 hours a week. However, my kids rebel against it every chance they get. According to them, sitting in a room with a bunch of other kids, lots of toys, a TV, a jungle gym, and a computer for one hour is pure hell.
Now that school has started and my blister has healed, I am ready to start running 4 days a week. This morning I dress in my running clothes, drop off my daughter and head to the Y. My two year old starts crying when he recognizes the street to the Y, and my older son is crying by the time we get out of the car. I am bribing everything from gum to a trip to the zoo if they will just let me run for an hour. I tell them I am staying healthy so I don't have a heart attack. I tell them I am staying sane so I don't beat them. But they cry on and on. I pry them from my legs in the child watch room and the workers look at me with both sympathy for having to deal with them and hate for leaving two crying boys for them to deal.
My heart was pounding as I walked to the treadmill. I can't believe the nerve of those selfish kids! I just want one hour! If I wasn't so mad, I would've cried. It took one mile before I forgot about them. I listened to my upbeat tunes and felt strong as I ran five miles at 9:30 pace. I was so relaxed. I felt like a gazelle as I skipped back into the child watch. I beamed with love at my two boys building a block castle together. I was going to love on them all day. They looked and me and burst into tears, "I don't want to leave!" they wailed.

The Nuts

We are all nuts in my family and embrace it.
My oldest is my peanut. I think that is the most common nickname for a baby, and she was girlie and petite from the getgo. We heard, "she's such a little peanut" weekly. In reality she is in the 50th percentile for height and the 20th for weight, so she's pretty much your average size nine year old.

My son was 14 days late and born a beast. The little outfit I knitted for him to wear home was skin tight and never fit again. Our friends said we had a linebacker. I called him my walnut. Even though his genes caught up with him and he is now 50th in both height and weight, he is still so solid and tough he remains my walnut.

My baby was born 16 days late and even bigger than his older brother. At 9 and a half pounds he was at the top of the growth charts. I thought he'd be my brazilian nut, but by his first birthday, he had swung down the other end end of the chart. I don't worry because he is healthy, active and happy. He eats all day. When he is not sitting at the table, he is crying at the pantry door for more food. He scales counters and shelves rooting for anything to put in his mouth like a racoon. He will eat everything from raw veggies to sugar straight from the canister. Yet his pants constantly slide from his tiny bum. He is now two and a half and barely hanging onto the one percentile curve. I have had to rename the pinenut.

I was telling the pinenut about how I have three nuts, the peanut, the walnut and the pinenut. And he said "you are the almond". Oooo. Packed with goodness, slender, tan and exotic. How flattering!

My husband is not a nut. He's still Mr. Hilarious.

Ouch

Last week was week one of my turbo marathon training.

It's canceled!

Last Wednesday it was so hot and humid, I could feel the air clogging my lungs. I walked the last mile of a six mile run. But worse, I grew a sizeable blister on pinkie toe. I have always been a big fan on running socks and tell all my rookie runner friends they are worth the investment. This bit of knowledge was passed down from my running guru friends. Even though I wore non cotton socks on Wednesday, I still developed a blister. They were the cheaper Target brand so lesson learned. There is a difference. This makes me want to try barefoot running even more passionatly, but need to do more research before I jump into that crazy pool.

Thursday, I did what most avid, stupid runners do and ignored that blister. I ran indoors and did a strength class after. It was a great workout, despite the piercing pain from my pinkie. When I pulled off my sock, I saw the blister now covered my entire pinkie and another smaller blister was forming on the next toe. Putting on socks was excruciating. I debated popping it, but decided it was best to just take a break and wear flip flops. I did run again yesterday and today, six miles each. The blister popped and is nagging, but not unbearable.

Because I still have not put in a long run, I am rethinking the whole marathon in 10 (now 9) weeks. It's just not smart. I have been scouring the marathon directory for a marathon in November or December. It blows me away how many marathons there are. Now I do love to run and brag about conquering 26.2 miles, and that is the point. But after that, I need the swag. I don't want to pay $60-$80 and just get a cotton T shirt. This happened when I did an Olympic Length Tri last summer. I swore to only participate for a good cause or good swag. It seems to me that the Akron Marathon has the best offerings. All participants get a running jacket and a voucher for brand new Brooks shoes. Sweet! However, that marathon is in September.

Since the whole idea is to give myself more time to properly prepare, running in that one would be stupid. The other factor is distance and driving. The only close marathon to Indianapolis in late fall is in Bloomington, IN. I love Bloomington. It's absolutely gorgeous. And absolutely hilly. Indianapolis is as flat as it gets, so hills kinda scare me. Plus, I learned a valuable lesson in that tri last summer. Two lessons if you count that you should check the swag prizes before forking over the big bucks. The other is that it's good to know what you are getting yourself into. I bit off more than I could chew with that tri. My friend rode on a mountain bike because, well, we just didn't know better. She was so exhausted that she could barely finish the run. We weren't dead last, but I think there was just one guy behind us. Plus, they were out of drinks at the post race fuel tent. That's bad. So I need to know what I am getting into when trying a race. A hilly marathon just might not be in the books the fall. Maybe I'll have to be happy with running for the love of running and wait for the Indy marathon to roll around again next fall.

Marathon Ready in 10 weeks?

My summers are always hectic. With so many weekend camping trips, family reunions and vacations, my running schedule is sporadic, to put it kindly. The kids are home full time, and they give me such grief for dropping them at the child watch at the Y. You'd think that asking them to play with a few other kids in an indoor playground was like asking them to scrub their hardened pee that missed the bowl from the bathroom floor. The things I do for them without complaining deserves a few hours a week to run. I am mute to their whines, but do limit the child watch time to two or three days a week because summer is summer and we should spend the time doing summer things like play in the sprinkler and make homemade lemon aid. Okay, they just beg to watch a lot of TV and play the wii. I can only ignore their whining for so long before I give in. I never said I was super mom.

I had embraced not training for a race and instead enjoyed running for the love of running. However, now that my last out of town trip is over and our routine is taking more regular, I have the itch to train. The weather is starting to cool a bit and running feels great. Truthfully, besides the marathon I run everyday raising my kids, I have only ran one marathon and that was over four years ago. I call myself a runner, but I want to call myself a marathoner. I spent the day doing a little research and think I can be marathon ready in 10 weeks, in time for the Indianapolis Marathon in Lawrence. It's as hilly as Indianapolis gets, but familiar turf. I run parts of the course weekly because it's near my house. I plan to follow the Novice 1 training plan starting at week 8. I was so excited when I saw that today (Monday) is REST!! I am also going to add a strength day on Thursday because that's my routine now. I run three miles on a treadmill and then do an all strength class at the Y. Now I need to pressure my best friend and running partner to run the marathon too. She has said many times she is happy not training this summer, so I am not expecting her to jump aboard, but I am hoping she do many of the training runs with me.

Non-Running Couple

Yesterday I celebrated my 8th wedding anniversary. Ronan, my 5 year old woke us up with breakfast in bed. It was one bowl of rice krispies. He proudly handed me the bowl, then sheepishly looked at my husband and mumbled, "well, I, um, just made it for mom." It's so obvious he loves me more, and since I know it won't be like that always, I'm going to brag now.

It was some kind of crazy heat wave here in Indy so I skipped my run. Mr. Hilarious said, "well, I was hoping we could run together for our anniversary, but I guess it's just too hot for you."

He is not a runner. In fact he's never run more than mile in his life. Despite my pleading and begging and promises of how it will bring us closer, he refuses to run with me. I know some couples who both run. They swap advice and tips, spend their vacations and anniversaries jogging together. They push each other to new and higher goals. We are not a running a couple. But we are a great couple. To be fair, he didn't know he was marrying a runner. I only started running after my son Ronan was born. He's had to spend many long Saturdays alone with the kids while I run. Even though I would love to run with him, I kind of like having him cheering me on from the sidelines. When I ran the Flying Pig in 2002, he met me at mile 18 with a camera and a giant poster that said "run, mom, run". When I saw him again mile 26, I was so emotional, I started crying. I didn't think I'd see him until after the race and too see him standing on the median with our kids was so sweet. I stopped running and hugged him until he said "you aren't finished yet. You have to keep going."

Another bonus: he's a great running gear shopper. I'm a sale rack shopper so I buy mismatched pieces in funky colors. He splurges and gifts the best. The ultimate gift was for Christmas a few years ago. He bought an ipod nano with the nike mileage counter. Even though he doesn't understand the crazy need to run, he supports it, and that's huge. It also means that I have to let him go to marathon poker games with his buddies. My running addiction is a healthier, but when he wins, he does buy me cool running gear. It's a win/win.

Marathon of a vacation

I just returned from back to back family vacations. First, we spent a week with my in-laws in Portage IN for the bi annual family reunion. Four generations gathered in one home to eat, play cards, and sleep on air mattress. Because running reduces my stress level, I ran like Forest Gump.

We drove back to Indianapolis where I spend one day at home doing laundry, watering my plants and answering emails. Then I loaded the SUV with luggage and the three kids, left Mr. Hilarious (aka my husband), picked up my squid hunting sister (yes, she really does hunt the squid) and drove 12 hours to Fort Morgan, AL for the annual Kelly family beach vacation. This family reunion is unique in that men are not invited. 25 women and children cram into a house meant for far less people to "enjoy" a relaxing week at the beach. This year, it was a tar ball covered beach no less.

We have done this for the past 14 years, and I run almost every day just to get out of the madness. However, it is 105 degrees with a blazing hot sun so I usually on run 3 miles before I want to drown myself in the ocean. Even though we all love each other dearly and continue to make the brutal drive I have noticed we still complain the majority of the time and always about the same things.

1. When you want to go to bed, someone is yelling right outside your door.

2. You are woken up at the crack of dawn by someone yelling outside your door.

3. During happy nappy, someone is yelling right outside your door.

4. Because no one sleeps, everyone is testy.

5. Someone will always take your beach towel, leaving you soaking wet and toweless

6. If you are lucky enough to steal someone else's towel, you will undoubtably sit on the wet spot on the couch left by someone who had no towel.

7. There are never any bath towels

8. There are never any dish towels.

9. The milk is always warm. We don't know why, but these beach house fridges just can't get it done.

10. There is never enough food at dinner, even if you double the amount you think you need.

11. Even if you bring 3 bottles of sunscreen, someone will use it all by the second day.

12. People will always try to talk to you when want to read a book. If you hide in the bathroom, they will find you.

13. You have to share a double bed with at least three other people. It is worse if one or more of those people is a kid. They kick.

14. Someone will get stung by jelly on the fist day scaring everyone from the ocean the rest of the week.

15. If you aren't one of the first three awake, you have already missed the donettes.

So if any of these are deal breakers, this trip is not for you. Every year I say it is my last. Yet when I get home and look through my photos and videos and facebook all my sisters, aunties and cousins, I just think it looks like we had so much fun. So I will return and complain all next year.