Holly's Stream of Consciousness

Let's Run Together 26.2 (2011)

2011-10-10T20:11:00.004-06:00

So my brother said to me, "How about we run the Chicago marathon?"

Over 500 miles of training, running in four different states and six months later, there we were.

The whole experience of the marathon was incredible. First off, it was amazing to walk around the city and see so many other people who you knew would be running on Sunday (you could recognize them because everyone had to cart their "Participant Bag" around the city). There was a great sense of community from both participants and spectators. Over 45,000 people were slated to run, and over 1.4 million people were going to be lining the course along the way. It was the experience of a lifetime for so many reasons. Here are several of the highlights/details of the race:

Mileage exertion:

miles 1-10: no work at all At the beginning of the race I kept getting zings of energy. I was so excited and pumped up that I thought I could probably just float to the finish line. It was still relatively cool at this point, and the sights and sounds of the crowd were incredible. I have a mental snapshot of running under the bridge at about mile 1; there were people lining both sides of the streets, going up to the bridge, and on top of the bridge. Everyone was going crazy, and the energy swell was something you could literally feel.

11-16: work At this point the sun was up and beating down on us pretty good. The blacktop was warming, so I was starting to feel baked. I started running through every sprinkler station. I also started drinking 2-3 cups of water at every aid station. Which is also when I made the first bathroom stop.

16-20: a struggle I needed to find a bathroom again. Stat. This was where I was running a mile at a time, waiting for the next aid station where I could get some more water. Thinking to myself, there's a banana coming up, there's a Gu packet coming up....

20-22: i think i can One foot in front of another.

22-26.2: pure gut Almost there. Gut it out. You can do it. Walk a little if you need to. Pick it back up. Walk a bit more. Pick it back up. I hit the wall at about 22 miles. I knew I'd finish, but it was sheer will power putting one foot in front of the other. The night before the race, the door of the L sliced my toe and so I was really feeling it toward the end. I knew my sock was bloodied and my toenails were aching. But I knew it was almost done. This is where we saw Aaron along the course. He ran with us briefly & told us he was hoarse from screaming for us a few miles earlier on the course. I wanted to sprint the last .2, but I just didn't have it in me. I gave it everything I had, took in the last 800 meters, and crossed the finish line.

Emotions:

My emotions throughout the entire experience were eVeRyWhErE. Leading up to the race I felt strong and confident. I knew I was on track to shave some good time off of last year's race. I was so excited to be in Chicago and enjoying every minute of every experience. At the expo I was getting teary. I don't know why...maybe because it felt like the culmination of everything, but right before the main event? I can't explain it; all I know is that I was fighting for composure most of the time at the expo. While waiting to cross the starting line, I kept getting zings of energy. I felt 0% dread, only excitement. At about mile 15 I was really glad that my brother was running with me. It felt secure and comfortable knowing that I wasn't alone among 45,000 other people. At the end of the race, I felt relief and pride. I knew I'd given it my all. If the conditions were a little different, I know I would have reached my goal. But finishing in 5:15:30 felt awesome. I couldn't have done it any better for this race.

Some mental pictures I have of the race:

standing @ the start, Millennium Park to the left, music blasting, people throwing back Gu shots, discarding sweats into piles that we had to walk over/around on our way to the Start

mile 1, going under the bridge, spectators all around and above you on the bridge

running in the loop to the Chicago Theater, seeing the amazing spectators, marathoner heads bobbing

turning the corner about 800m from the finish line, energy swells, spectators scream

Awesome Neighborhoods:

The Loop--the essence of Chicago

Lincoln Park--beautiful

Boys Town--a flamboyant spectacle, a party for your eyes

Old Town--classy

Pilson--a fiesta

Nike Inspiration Zone (Mile 18?)--good music, lots of people

Chinatown--this was hands down the best part of the race, the energy completely swelled, there were dragons dancing, gongs gonging, people cheering, it was amazing

running over the river (grated beneath you so it literally felt like you were running over the river)

Best Signs

There were hundreds of signs along the course, but here are some of my favorites:

Go complete stranger!

Worst parade ever.

Chuck Norris never ran a marathon.

Sweat = liquid awesomeness

Holding this sign is work too

Pain is weakness leaving the body (doesn't really make sense, but I still like it)

After all the training, enjoy your 26.2 mile victory lap

Runners who have stuck with me:

Wazzup guys--two guys running with a sign that said "Wazzup!" These guys would yell out to the crowd throughout the race. They'd say, "Hey woman standing on the center island! Wazzzzzzuuuuuuuppp!" Or, "Hey mile seven! Wazzzzzzuuuuuuuppppp!"

Cavemen--two guys dressed as cavemen...don't know why they stand out to me

Man running with a flag--I assume military

Inspirational/teary

SO many people were running for charities or dedicating their run to someone. A few made me choke up a little bit.

Thanks, Annie, for the kidney

No human being is illegal

Running a marathon is hard, living without you is harder

People running with names written on their back of those who have died from various forms of cancer

Every charity/group you could think of seemed to be represented: World Vision, ending aids, free Palestine

Thoughts I remember having through the race:

I'm done with gatorade.

I'll take another water. and another. and ano-ther.

Spray me with a hose, yespleaseandthankyou.

I wonder if my soles are melting.

I wish these people wouldn't keep stopping all around me, it's hard to get around them and it makes me think they know something I don't.

How can someone run AND drink beer?

I'm glad I don't need my ipod since it isn't charged anyway.

Hey, there's my old dorm window!

Need a bathroom, stat.

Vaseline? What for?

I wonder if all of this back sweat is adding to the humidity.

I highly recommend running the Chicago marathon. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute before, during, and after the race.

Assume Strength

2011-09-19T19:59:00.003-06:00

The setting: a semi-cluttered, energy buzzing classroom

The characters: thirty-ish seventh graders who are a little on the sixth grade side (official change comes after Christmas)

The challenge: read forty books by the end of the year

Cue gasp!

When I first heard about a teacher challenging her students to read forty books in one year, I had a hefty dose of cynicism. Okay, sure, a few of the advanced students might be able to read assembly-line style, but real "If I have to look in the book for an answer I probably won't die, but why risk it?" students? Get real.

But the more I read about this teacher's program, the more I began to taste the kool-aid. And it tasted gooooood. I briefly considered if it was even possible for students to read that much; maybe I should lower the expectation to twenty.

But then I thought, why not assume strength? Why not assume that they can do it?

So, this year I started off day one of school expecting the students to read. At Open House I told students they'd better bring something to read with them the very first day of school. When I went over the this is how we do a fire drill, this is how you organize your binder, this is how you get to your seat on time expectations, I also mentioned, "And oh yeah, this is how many books you're expected to read by the end of the year: 40."

Some eyes went wide. One kid (advanced math) quickly figured out, "That's, like, one book a week!" Nodding, I assured them they could do it. We would all work on it together, and they would be so proud of themselves by the end of the year.

Some asked what would happen if they didn't reach forty books. I told them that I had NEVER had a student not reach that goal that I had set for them. Technically true. Also, I told them that I wasn't going to tell them what would happen if they didn't do it, because they would. It's not an option not to.

And you know what? They are blowing me away. I've never seen anything like it. We talk about books constantly. Kids give impromptu commercials for books they are reading. They keep a list in their planner of "Hot Reads" so they know what to check out next. Last week I told them we were going to the library as a class.

They cheered.

Every single day I have multiple students coming in to tell me that they just finished this or that book and are anxious to get started on another one.

I don't know if they all will actually read forty books by the end of the year. But I'll bet most of them will. I'll bet ALL of them will read more than they've ever read before. And that's a win.

Aversions

2011-07-11T06:54:00.002-06:00

I think everyone has that one food that they ate before they got really, really sick. For me it was Reese's. I had been feeling sort of gross all day, and the only thing that sounded good to me was a peanut butter cup. Being a college student, I actually had some Reese's in my dresser drawer. I ate a few, thinking that they were going to be the only thing I'd eat that day.

It didn't take long before I felt that rumble, so I ran to the dorm bathroom and made it just in time to jackknife over the toilet and spill my insides. Needless to say, watching Reese's perform an anti-gravity routine did little for my desire to indulge in any future peanut butter cups.

I developed an aversion.

And now I have a new one. But I don't have the luxury of avoiding this particular thing.

A few weeks ago I was in the Rockies of Colorado, vacationing with family. As I am officially in "training mode" for the Chicago Marathon later this year, I knew that my running schedule couldn't really afford a vacation hiatus. So I packed my running shoes and planned to suck up the few Os that I could while running at 9,000 feet.

The first half of the run was actually fine. Altitude schmeltitude. Sure, it was on a slow & steady decline, but whatev, right? The energy that I saved by going downhill would leave me with plenty of juice for going back uphill for the second half.

Not the case.

My heart rate raced to the 190s and I had to keep taking walking breaks. But worse, far worse, was the rumble I started to feel in my stomach. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the side of the road summoning up the little bit of breakfast that I had that morning.

I was mortified! I was running with my brother-in-law and we were only out for a two-miler, and here I was throwing up like I was at the end of an Olympic training session. Two. Miles.

Well, so I made it back okay. But since then I have absolutely dreaded the thought of running again. I've kept up on my training, but there is not a single positive thought that I have about it before I lace up my Asics. I've developed an aversion to running.

I've already booked a hotel room in Chicago, paid the hefty registration fee, and planned a mini-vacation around it. I don't have the option of just bowing out, really. So how do you get over an aversion?

Analyze This

2011-05-04T20:56:00.003-06:00

So I feel like I've got an opinion about everything lately. I've been wanting to blog about Osama's death, the birther nonsense, kids these days, Time's most influential, etc. But...they end up being big topics that I keep putting off until I no longer want to talk about them anymore.

That and I don't want to feel like I'm complaining all the time. Or right all the time. Or as someone who knows something, when in reality I'm probably just another chump with a big mouth about her opinions. For whatever reason, I've been keeping it to myself.

In a weird twist, it turns out that while I'm analyzing the news & issues of my world, the world is analyzing me.

I've read that Facebook has software that analyzes your profile, then matches ads to your personality.

Here's what Facebook has most recently matched to me:

52% off Hot Yoga (I hate Yoga, hot or cold, but they've got me pegged with 52% off; they know I'm po' folk)
Flowers for Mother's Day (so either they know I am a mom, or I have one; freaky)
Free for Women (a website that is calling for all American women; they have a need for American women to deliver their---unnamed---samples. Nah.)
Dystance4Dystonia (a website that says, "Since you've already registered for the Chicago Marathon, you should run for a cause...this cause...")

So, this is how they've pegged me. I have a mother, I'm an American woman, I'm running a race, and I must love yoga.

Khaled chooses all my books

2011-03-20T19:26:00.005-06:00

I was looking for a new book to read a few weeks back when I hopped onto the Barnes and Noble website. Having read The Kite Runner a few years back, then A Thousand Splendid Suns, I searched to see if this favorite author had any new gems that I had yet to discover. No new ones, but I did see a feature on the website that intrigued me: Meet the Writer. About midway down on the column, Hosseini lists his ten favorite books including a "what makes them so great" spiel.

My geometry teacher would be so proud:
I (H) enjoy Khaled's books (K) (so H = K)
he enjoys several books(B) (so K = B)
therefore, by transitive property, I would also enjoy them
(H = B).

That is how I mathematically discovered Life of Pi.

There is absolutely no reason why this book should be awesome. It is an unlikely story about a boy named Pi (as in 3.14) who is lost at sea with a tiger (as in Panthera Tigris) named Richard Parker. There's a story behind the name. Pi's and Richard Parker's. At 420+ pages, there's a lot of fishing, burning, enduring storms and fighting for survival. In fact, the actual plot doesn't even get started until about 150 pages into the book.

And yet.

The story will stay with me for the rest of my days. The book is fantastic on so many levels. Its similes and metaphors, analogies, and descriptive writing alone make the book drip red velvet (yum). It creates sharp contrasts between what is expected and what happens. It compares zoology and religion. The battle is as much about boy vs. cat as it is about hopelessness vs. faith. Even in the midst of horror is humor. And the last few pages. Blew. Me. Away.

I've avoided coming to a definite conclusion about the book mostly because I think that the way I interpret the book will say something about me. Kind of like the old "how do you see the glass?" type thing.

I'd love to sit and chat with you about what you think it's all about.

Since he's proven reliable, I've decided to stick with Khaled's choices for a while.

Next on my list is Wally Lamb's I Know This Much is True.

Loose Lips

2011-03-13T12:00:00.002-06:00

Judgey Pudgey. That's what he called me. The year was 1996 and I was in Mr. Jones's Social Studies room participating in a mock trial. I was the judge. One of my classmates started saying, "Here comes Judgey Pudgey," when I would walk down the hallway.

In terms of terrible taunts, that registers pretty low on the seismograph. But I remember it. And I remember how it made me feel.

I've been thinking lately about the power of words. It's simply not true that sticks & stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you. They can break your spirit, demoralize you and even steal your dreams. Not only that, but they do literally hurt you. A recent report in Psychology Today reveals the actual physical effects that bullying and hurtful words have on the brain.

The good news, however, is that as destructive as words can be, the opposite is also true. The right word said at the right time can build you up, encourage or inspire you.

Nothing brings this more to my attention than when I'm hanging out with my husband's family. My in-laws and extended in-law family are excellent at encouraging, praising, thanking, showing appreciation; you know, living in the good word world. The result is that after spending some time with them, I feel renewed, invigorated, and a new sense of strength.

They are better than a full night's sleep.

With enough of those types of words, the hurtful words lose some of their power.

I'm Here and I'm Literate!

2011-03-06T20:34:00.005-06:00

Now that Caeden is learning to write, we find pieces of him everywhere. This is our shopping list, hanging on the fridge.

(magnifying glass)

Celebrity Mash Up

2011-03-03T20:44:00.005-06:00

So I signed up to run the Chicago marathon in October of 2011.

My goal for this second marathon is to beat my first marathon's time. Not that my first time was horrible. I finished right around the same time as Katie Holmes, and my foot hit 26.2 well before both Mario Lopez and Freddie Prinze Jr. I figure that's a win.

But Lady O kicked my A. So did funny man Ferrell, every-step-I-take Puffy, and the notorious GWB. Even Jared Fogle the Subway guy beat me.

So this year, my plan is to kick it into higher gear. At the very least, I'd like to out-pace the guy who is famous for chowing a foot-long a day. I think that's reasonable.

The four letter word

2011-03-01T08:24:00.006-06:00

So a friend of mine--a teacher--was sitting in a meeting when he let it slip that he has noticed that many students are getting more and more lazy. Cue gasp! No, no, no, he was assured. No student is lazy. We have to discover the underlying reason why they are not performing.

In the world of education where we don't let anyone fall behind, we fire off interventions like heat-seeking missiles whose aim is to seek and destroy, and save the day (and also our schools). Implied in several interventions is the idea that the student really wants to do well, but can't due to circumstances beyond his/her control. I buy into that for some students, but that shouldn't be true for the majority of a school population.

So when do interventions help, and when do they enable? When do they legitimately aid a student, and when do they encourage, well, laziness.

If being lazy is becoming an epidemic, how do you cure it? And why has it become a four-letter-word in education?

I recently read an article about Tiger Moms. While there is a LOT to disagree with in the article, one point that really stuck out to me is the research-based idea that is important for students to grapple with a challenging task. That is how students develop self-esteem and the belief that they can do something. Without developing that, we are basically facilitating a bunch of quitters. So many students look at a challenging task, decide it is too hard for them, and don't even attempt. They quit. However, in education, we can't let someone quit (our pay could even depend on it!).

In most everything in life, one must have a dedicated and focused work ethic. One must encounter a challenge, perhaps fail, try again, devote time, learn from mistakes, learn from others, and keep trying until one reaches success.

Sometimes, however, we are too lazy to go through that process. The path of least resistance is easier. The human body is designed to become more efficient in order to output the least amount of energy required. Laziness is tempting. And if we reward laziness, then it is not just a temptation, it is a cycle that will continue. And I think we need to realize that laziness is real; it's not a four-letter-word. It's something we can't afford putting off to deal with later. Especially in education.

Unisex

2011-02-25T17:58:00.006-06:00

So I was in a public place searching for a bathroom yesterday, when I stumbled upon a typical nondiscriminating bathroom sign: it had a little female figure (indicated by a dress), a male figure, and the ubiquitous skinny wheelchair person whose sex isn't determined.

Come to think of it, they were all white, so maybe I was wrong about the nondiscriminating part.

I'm no stranger to the unisex bathroom, so I opened the door.

It took me a second to recognize what was wrong. It was like looking at those two pictures where you have to find the differences; you know something is off with that guy's shirt, but it takes you a while to realize that the stripes are going in the other direction.

So it took me a few seconds to realize: this bathroom has stalls.

Now maybe I'm not forward thinking enough, or maybe I'm more prudish than I should be, but it seems to me that some things should just be left a mystery to the opposite sex. I know, I know, everyone goes, but I guess I prefer a private privy.

I have no problem doing business with an unknown man, but next to an unknown man? I'll pass.

The Bright Side

2011-02-22T21:22:00.003-06:00

Boy was the news a downer tonight. Massive earthquake and destruction in New Zealand, four American yachtists dead after being held hostage/executed by pirates, the standoff in Wisconsin over the governor's ambition to bust up the middle class (don't be fooled), Crazy McCrazerton Gadhafi willing to sacrifice his own people (and send oil prices soaring), baby dolphins washing up on shore because of the massive BP oil spill....it's easy to get discouraged. I've often wondered, am I just getting older and more aware, or are these some really crazy times?

I've got to admit, my heart has been getting more and more heavy as I sympathize with so many of the hurting.

But

I have also been feeling extremely blessed. Even among all of this, there is hope.

One recent way in which I've felt palpable hope is in watching my son. I know, I know, cliche parent thing to say. But it's cliche because it's true.

My son recently colored a cute little picture and gave it to me for Valentine's Day. Sure, it was colored in nicely; he gave it some careful attention and time. But best, down at the bottom of the picture in shaky, sometimes backward, not really in line, all capital letters were four words: Mom, Dad, Caeden and Avery.

And I realized, my son is learning to read and write. If you've never seen this process take place, I hope you get to experience it some day. Truly, it is amazing. This little bug who at one point couldn't even hold up his own head, recognizes that letters have sounds, sounds work together to form words, and words have meanings. And that he can make those himself; he can write what he thinks is important. And, important to him, is us.

Not only that, but he, at four years old, can do what probably less than half of the entire world is able to do. He is literate. We are blessed to live in a country where he can become that. We are blessed that he has the ability to do that.

And that is amazing.

Selling Mexican Food, Selling Out Mexican Workers

2011-02-20T15:34:00.008-06:00

So back in January, Chipotle was audited and some workers were found to be illegal. Following the audit, it appears that 700 of Chipotle's 1200 Minnesotan workers were fired without much explanation or without the opportunity to provide proper documentation. (In some cases, workers showed driver's licenses, but those alone aren't sufficient to show status. I wonder what I would have to show in order to prove that I'm a citizen. Not that I would ever be asked.)

Reading the paper, I doubt that I will ever get the full, real story of what happened, newspapers being unbiased and presenting both sides and all...

If you've ever been to a Chipotle, you know what I'm talking about when I say that you can feel the energy, enthusiasm, and excitement the moment you walk in. Things are hopping. The workers are quick, engaging, and....well, happy. They seem to like stuffing those mammoth burritos.

I'm not making a comment about illegal immigration, mostly because I'm not sure how I feel about it. In fact, I think that maybe my position changes when I'm viewing it from an American perspective and when I'm viewing it from a humanity stand-point. I don't claim to know the ripple effect of illegal immigration either.

But, I did go to Chipotle a couple weekends ago. And it was obviously less brown, and conspicuously more white. The lady who took my order rolled her eyes both at me and at her fellow colleagues. The workers chopping chicken were quiet. And it was ssssslllllllooooooowwww.

So I don't know everything about illegal immigration, or the real story about why 700 employees were let go. All I'm saying is that my last visit was different. And not for the better.

And the Oscar Goes To

2011-02-19T22:43:00.002-06:00

I used to go to movies all the time. My dad and I had a standing Friday night date. I saw anything with little to no discretion: the good, the bad, the ugly, romantic comedies. Actually, I did draw the line at romantic comedies; a gal's got to have some standards. Plus, once you've seen one, you've seen 'em all.

When kid #1 & kid #2 came, I entered a four-year long movie drought. Correction, I did see one movie: Freedom Writers. But the kids behind me were so loud & obnoxious that I could barely see past Hillary Swank's pearls to the deeper aspects, like, say, the plot. I went home & cried after that one. And not because it was so good.

Full disclosure, I did accidentally see one romantic comedy during that movie hiatus, but only because I was out-voted and, without wanting to cause a big scene, swallowed the bile and reverted to silent judging and forecasting the entire script verbatim long before the characters delivered their lines. That, by the way, is an hour and a half of my life that I will never get back.

But this year, ah, this year, I have seen several movies. And they're current. And most of them have been really, really good.

Here is what I think of several of this year's Oscar noms, in twenty words or less:

The Fighter--Incredible story, fine acting by Bale & Wahlberg both. Laugh out loud funny and still dramatic.
Toy Story 3--Sentimental favorite. The "memory montage" of Andy before he leaves for college gets me every time.
The King's Speech--Difficult to see HBC in royalty role after her performance in Fight Club; girl's got chops.
The Town--Jeremy Renner's tattoos do most of the character work; great heist flick.
True Grit--A true favorite. Bridges is brilliant and Damon, as always, plays a fantastic self-deprecater.
The Kids Are Alright--Wasn't. Blech.
The Social Network--I'll bet Mark Z wishes he were the Jesse Eisenberg cool-quick-witted-some-people-think-I'm-a-nerd-but-I'm-misunderstood version. Justin Timberlake as Napster founder is poetic.
How to Train Your Dragon--Recycled theme, but super cute Hiccup with his, "You just gestured to all of me."
Inception--Interesting movie, kind of Matrix-y. Read a review that said it had several plot holes; I'd never find 'em.

After watching The Social Network, I wondered who would play me in a movie of my life. I think it would have to be Renee Zellweger. The chubby version. And Aaron? Dave Matthews. The skinny version.

I don't know how each film and/or actor will fare at the Oscars, but it's been a great year of movie-going.

The Grind

2011-02-19T15:28:00.004-06:00

I've been terribly absent. That's what happens when you have young children. The day begins like this:
6:00 am--Mom, can I get up now?
6:00 am--Not yet.
6:01 am--Now?
6:01 am--Hmmm Mmmm
6:02 am--Mom will you get up with me?
6:02 am--Just a minute.
6:02:30 am--Now?
6:02:31--Sigh
6:03--Mom can I watch a movie?
6:03--When it's time to get up, which is in a few minutes.
Pause for about a minute. Then they bring out the big dogs.
6:04--Mom, my bed is wet.

The one thing my kids know will pull me out of bed. I just can't stand the thought of them laying there in a pool of wet. That, plus the fact our house hovers at a temp that is perfect for, say, any of the Happy Feet crew, and I don't want their little hineys to be frozen to the sheets.

So my days start early and end late. I'm not making excuses, that's just a fact. Also, by the time I do get to settle in at night, all I want to do is watch Parenthood. Or Glee. I can't get me enough of those sponge-head square chin zingers.

But I've been inspired by my blogging friends of late, and I may want to throw in a word or two. So, here goes.

Tidbits

2009-10-29T18:13:00.003-06:00

Just a few thoughts from my life recently:

I'm running a half marathon on Saturday. Last year I caught a chest cold. This year it looks like I may catch a snow storm.
I've decided to change my answer to the question, "Why did you become a teacher?" to, "Because I love meetings. I really feel like I can be utilized well in meetings. The greater the amount of meetings, the better. I especially like meetings where we talk about how to conduct ourselves in other meetings." Cynical? A tad.
Me + a peanut-covered caramel apple = true love
It's weird thinking that I am raising two Minnesotans. A transplant myself, it occurs to me every once in a while that my two kids will claim the Land of 10,000 Lakes as their home. The other day Caeden said, "Mom, should I put this in the bag (long a)?" I shivered a little and said, "Caeden, we don't say that. We say b-aaaaaa-g (short a)."
The batteries on the Atari game that we have ran out and I was worried that my high score on Super Pac Man would be lost. It wasn't.
My husband, who is an English teacher, plays word games with the students he teaches in the Alternative school; his favorite is Scrabble. They told him that instead of putting a tatoo of a tear by his eye for every person that he has killed, he should put a comma.

Circle of Life

2009-09-24T17:01:00.002-06:00

I haven't seen it since second grade.

At least I'm pretty sure it was second grade because my third grade teacher, Mr. Sam, was an abusive curmudgeon who literally picked me up by my head and moved me back to the end of the line when I budged.

Nothing good ever came out of his class.

And by fourth grade I was living in Germany and far, far away from Mexico. So I'm fairly certain it was second grade.

That was the year when our teacher, Mrs. Bivona, brought in the yellow, black and white striped monarch caterpillars. They chomped their way through milkweed leaf after milkweed leaf (they were hungry, hungry you know) until they turned into chrysalises. Every day we watched them, waiting for the moment when their little sleeping bags would wiggle and they would break free and land, wet and unable to fly, on the bottom of the insect jar. And they didn't disappoint.

So I was really glad this year when we went to the state fair and into the Butterfly House to find out that you could buy a monarch caterpillar complete with milkweed leaves. Caeden picked out a caterpillar and we brought him home to watch. Armed with his magnifying glass so that he could, "Look at the caterpillar closely," (his words) we watched that little worm climb to the top of the jar and hang down in the proverbial J shape.

Later that night we watched him spin a chrysallis around his body. Caeden and Avery were enthralled.

Every day for two weeks the kids would wake up and run out to the kitchen where the chrysalis hung and see if there was anything new.

Finally, he emerged. Unfortunately it was while we were all away for the day. But when we got home the kids were crazy with excitement. Butterflybutterflybutterfly!

The next morning we gently eased this little miracle from his jar to a flower in our yard. We watched him for a few hours while he stayed perched primly on that flower. We had some errands to run and by the time we got back home, the butterfly was gone.

"Butterfly fly away?" Avery asked.

"Yes honey. The butterfly is finding a new home," I told her.

That's what I want her to believe.

But it's probably just as likely that a bird swooped down and made a tasty meal out of our friend.

Cable Lust

2009-09-17T19:02:00.004-06:00

My house is the Bermuda Triangle of cable.

I've never seen Project Runway.

I've heard of the Real Housewives of New Jersey, but don't know what all the hype is about.

I've been spared the Jon and Kate Plus 8 reality disaster.

But I'm not happy about it.

Every year a plucky new cable installer knocks on our front door and extols the virtues of digital television. Every year we try to explain that our house is where cable waves go to die. And yet we wind up opening our door and saying to the perennial, confident, not quite battle worn cable installer, "Do your worst."

After whizzing and whirring machines measure this or that wavelength, a shimmy is made up the power line, and various cords are tested, the cable guy inevitably returns to us, eyes round and head shaking back and forth, "I've never seen anything like it."

So you can imagine what a treat it was a couple weekends ago when my in-laws came over to babysit and we were wild and child-free in Minneapolis for a whole night. Not only would we get to go out to dinner without having to worry about our daughter climbing over the booth into the other patrons' laps, but we were also able to see a comedy act AND watch cable tv in the hotel room. A trifecta.

Dinner was divine. The comedy club was halfway funny, enough to put us in high spirits. But the cable. What is UP with cable tv?

The commercials are. Well. Weird.

That guy selling some sort of food chopper? He actually said, "You're gonna love my nuts." The guy with the super sharp knife? He cut a pineapple in midair. In slow motion. Okay, cool, but, seriously? Is that the selling point? Buy this knife for all of your midair pineapple cutting needs? Then there was the guy who said all of your car troubles could be handled with a paint pen. Keyed car? Paint pen. Runaway grocery cart? Paint pen. Won't start? Paint pen.

I don't know. Maybe we're not missing all that much after all.

Bumping up against stereotypes

2009-09-17T18:54:00.002-06:00

Every day as I leave school, I pass a meditation center. In the front of the center is a small plot of foliage, a place where, I assume, members occasionally respite, meditate, and enjoy the simple pleasures of nature.

So was I wrong to do a double-take when I noticed a small, brown, bald man dressed in a bright orange robe of (what I think is) traditional Buddhist garb standing in the garden, not contemplating, but talking animatedly, arms flailing, with his cell phone pressed to his ear?

Holly is contemplating Facebook

2009-06-27T19:15:00.013-06:00

A while back I joined Facebook in order to see the pics that my sisters--who live 12 hours by car and free minutes only after nine o'clock (which, in my two-kids-under-two-years-induced stupor, I can barely stay awake for) away--have posted, and yanno, keep up on their lives.

For those of you who don't have Facebook, it's kind of like, hey, I haven't heard from that person in a long time, or wow, those are cute pics of the new baby. With all of the status updates, it's a little like SIMS in that you know what all of your friends are doing at any given time, minus the gibberish tantrums the characters throw when they aren't getting enough love, of course.

And sometimes that too.

In other words, it's kind of fun, uuuunnnnnntillllllll the Facebook gods drop someone into your current life from your past that you still find goosebumpingly creepy. Then your heart starts racing, your mind starts whirling, and you wonder, like the eye of Sauron, if I can see them, can they see me?

And that's not the only weird situation that Facebook orchestrates.

In my mind I totally understand that my friends have other friends. But when I see their actual conversations, my hackles raise a bit. I'm not proud of it, but I kind of wish that the lives of my friends would pause when we're not together. And that they would be sitting at home, bored out of their minds without me. Or if not, that they're at least chuckling about some memory of us.

Also? I feel guilty looking through my "friends list" because I have been really bad about keeping in touch with people who were really good friends at one time. Maybe Facebook should categorize the "friends list" into, "really, really close friends," "friends at one time," and, "I just added this one to increase my total number of friends so people are impressed when they see how many other people like me."

Of course, that really just adds pressure. Kind of like the "relative" status. This begs the questions, "Do I limit relatives to biology, or add close friends to this list? If I add close friends, but not other friends, will feelings be hurt?" And then of course I have to see if I was added to their relative lists. And then nurse my hurt feelings.

And another thing. Seriously, how many quizzes can one take? In one day? And then post?

I know there's someone out there who knows what all these things mean, but it's not me.

Admittedly, I am curious about what my birth requests. And what a superpoke is.

BUT, it is fun to take a peek into the lives of relatives, friends, those who are merely added to increase my friendworth, creepy people who should stay in the past, and chronic quiz takers. Even if it does elicit weird emotions and stalkerish tendencies.

Fresh Faces

2009-06-25T13:18:00.009-06:00

I have been thoroughly enjoying my summer so far, even though I have had to sub for my husband at the alternative school (summer school) for the past few days. Imagine my surprise when I showed up to class and saw a good handful of some cherubs that I've had in the past when they were middle school students. I can't believe that I've been teaching long enough to see some of the scrawny, hyper sixth graders fast forwarded and graduating from high school.

Walter, for example. I distinctly remember Walter because he was this chubby little sixth grader with a major attitude. Classified as having Emotional Behavior Disorder, I was nervous that this kid would wind up in jail some day. I distinctly remember breaking up a fight between Walter and another student (kid made fun of his name), sending him to the principal's office, hearing him screaming obscenities the entire way there, and then learning out that he was curled up in the fetal position inside the principal's office, crying. Six years later, Walter is about to graduate, talks football, is polite, courteous and has a general peaceful air around him. He gives me hope for some of my most rascally kids.

Speaking of rascally kids, we brought our two in for pics the other day. Enjoy some updated photos!

Serious attitude, with a twinkle in the eye

Striking a pose

Trying to figure out how to smile on command

Trying to pull off the cool, casual look

Hey, they're both looking at the camera--it's a win in my book

Oh Crap!

2009-06-16T08:08:00.002-06:00

So my friend and I used to joke about extreme weight loss plans. We imagined a commercial with a thin woman cheerfully saying, "I lost forty pounds and all it took was one bite by this mosquito. Thanks West Nile!"

Or, "I lost thirty pounds by eating a single burger. Thanks e-coli."

After my appointment yesterday, it turns out that, in my case, surgery is inevitable; the only question is when--not if--I should schedule it. In all of the discussion about the implications of the surgery, talk eventually turned to the lifestyle changes that will come about as a result of being without a gallbladder--gallbladderless?

Apparently, sans gallbladder, your body has a hard time digesting fat. So if you want to indulge with a piece of cheesecake, dip your crab legs in butter, or enjoy a steak, you run the risk of your body not being able to digest the fatty parts of these culinary delights.

The unfortunate side effect of this is what the surgeon gently referred to as explosive bowels.

I suppose nothing helps you choose the less fatty options and lose weight quite like the threat of messing yourself in public.

"I lost 15 pounds and all it took was organ removal. Thanks gallstones!"

The Gall

2009-06-08T12:05:00.002-06:00

Turns out that I have an ailment that I thought was reserved for old folks. Upon doing some research, I have since discovered that those who suffer from the same ailment are women, Native Americans and people over sixty. I meet one of those criteria. And yet...

Last week I was happily enjoying a $.99 oriental chicken salad from the neighborhood (one of the glorious perks of being a teacher) when a sudden piercing pain stopped my fork mid stride. The pain continued through the night and went from "ouch" to a 10 on the scale. I was reminded quite a bit of being in labor. However, I did not go in to the emergency room because I was certain they would send me home with an antacid and tell me to avoid foods that cause, ahem, gassy issues. The night passed in a cycle of doze a couple minutes, wake up from the pain, doze a little bit more, wake up again, etc.

But I made it through.

Until the next night. As soon as the sun went down, the pain came out to play and BAM! I was on my hands and knees crying in pain again. My insurance has quite an emergency room deductible and I was still convinced that they would listen to my intestines, diagnose gas, and send me on my way. So I survived in much the same manner as the first night. As soon as the scheduling department changed the "closed" to "open" sign on the shingle, I speed dialed my way through and insisted on being seen that same day.

The dr. listened to my symptoms, felt my tummy and said, "Well, it could be one of two things. You could have an ulcer, or you may have had a gallbladder attack." She prescribed some ulcer meds, some happy pills for if the pain returned, and a trip to the ultra sound tech to check out my gallbladder.

I saw the ultra sound tech this morning and--surprise--I've got a nice big stone where it's not supposed to be. My dr. warned me that if we found out this was the case, we'd start talking about gallbladder removal.

Maybe it's just me, but removing an organ from my body (even if it's not a crucial organ) makes me a little nervous. I guess I'll learn more about it when my dr. calls me in for another visit to discuss the ultra sound results.

Meanwhile, I've started to lead most conversations with my health ailments. I know that's something an old person would do, but hey, with a gallbladder attack, I'm halfway there.

Mother of the Year

2009-05-20T12:04:00.005-06:00

So I've alluded to the fact that my two year old son is afraid of bugs. As in, he won't go down the slide if there is a lady bug on it.

Last night we had a bug emergency.

8:00 pm
Me: Good night honey, have a good sleep.
Cade: I need a hug and a kiss.
Me: (to self) What a sweet boy

8:05 pm
Me: What are you doing out of bed?
Cade: (eyes welling) I hear a buzzing sound.
Me: Okay, let's go check it out.
We walk hand-in-hand back to his room, sit on his bed quietly.
Me: Honey, there isn't a buzzing sound, everything is okay. It's time to go to bed.
Cade: (bottom lip in full pouting mode) NNNNNNOOOOOOO! Mom, there's.....(pause while the tears and volume build) BUGS!
Me: Look, there aren't any bugs. It's okay. Go to sleep. (leave room with son whimpering)

8:10 pm
Me: What are you doing out of bed?
Cade: THERE ARE BUGS ON MY FLOOR!
Me: Honey, seriously, there are no bugs. Anyway, bugs don't hurt you (slight lie in some cases). It's time for bed.
Cade: (bawling) BUGSBUGSBUGSBUGSBUGSBUGSBUGSBUGS
Me: Okay, I'll lay down with you for a few minutes.
Cade: (thumb in mouth, nods consent)

8:45 pm
Me: Get back in bed!
Cade: (hysterically) The bugs are getting me!
Me: No they're not. It's the season finale of Dancing with the Stars! Go back to bed! Do you need a spank?
Cade: The bugs will get me!
Me: (exasperated) Let's go. Get in bed.
Leave room with son in an all-out bawl.

9:00 pm
Me: (feeling bad for letting my little boy cry until he is hiccuping so that I can watch DWTS) Sweetheart, it's okay, I promise.
Cade: thebugsthebugsthebugsthebugsaregettingme thebugsthebugsthebugsthebugsaregettingme
Me: Do you want Daddy to lay with you for a few minutes?
Cade: nods and hiccups

9:30
Finally, sleep....

9:45
Huge june bug comes buzzing down the hallway, throwing itself against the light of the television.

Foiled!

2009-05-07T07:41:00.003-06:00

I took a quick trip to Denver last weekend to greet my younger sister who was flying home after being in Germany for a year as an exchange student. Besides an overnight bag, I brought two things with me: my young daughter and my swine flu fears.

Normally I'm not all that concerned about getting sick, however, since I've had kids, my protection factor has reached armadillo or ostrich levels. Traveling in two international airports, knowing that I would probably have to use the public restroom and touch various germy surfaces had me thinking about what types of defenses I should institute to keep my little gal safe and healthy.

Armed with Clorox wipes and hand sanitizers, I meticulously wiped down any surface that either I or Avery touched and doused both of us generously with antibacterial substances. The trip out to Denver went swimmingly; I was confident that I averted any dangerous swine bugs. Denver International Airport was also great as my only task was to deplane and grab my stroller. The flight back to Minneapolis was good too.

All-in-all I was really relieved to have made it through both airports without any whiff of danger.

Until I stepped in the escalator to go from the main terminal down to the pick-up level. I boarded the elevator, pushed the button with my elbow and settled in for my quick ride with only one other occupant.

"Whew," she said. "I just flew in from Mexico. I hope the weather here is as nice!"

Neighborly

2009-04-27T13:42:00.003-06:00

My parents-in-law are moving from the Field of Dreams state to the Land of 10,000 lakes. I'm not sure why they would want to leave Iowa. It gets greener earlier, has a shorter winter, cheaper houses, less traffic, and fewer mosquitoes. Plus, they have great neighbors.

On the other hand, it does have a heckuva lot of hogs. And they smell.

But they also have wind farms, so yanno...it'd be cool to say that you were from a state that had wind farms.

Wind farms notwithstanding, they are leaving all of that behind to move up by their grandchildren.

But back to the neighbor thing. They have (and are themselves) the kind of neighbors that give each other Christmas gifts. Nothing pricey, more of the homemade jelly variety of neighbors, but nevertheless thoughtful. They know the names of all of their neighbors' pets, stop to chit chat about new cars, you know, friendly sort of relationships.

Hopefully they'll find such people in their new home up here. They just won't find them in my neighborhood.

For example, when we were first moving into our new house from our apartment, we had to get rid of some furniture that just didn't make the cut. Two ratty old chairs were placed on the curb for the garbage collector to properly dispose of. While we were out making another furniture run to the old apartment, the chairs disappeared from the drive way. Later that week we saw the same chairs in one of our new neighbor's garage sale. Ummm...I get wanting to take furniture from the end of someone's driveway for your own use, but for your own garage sale?

And then there were the renters that lived right next to us. We would wake up in the morning sometimes and find plastic lawn chairs stacked up outside of our bedroom window. Full disclosure: we never actually caught anyone peeping, but c'mon, is "please don't stack your Menards furniture next to our bedroom window so that you can be at eye level" a necessary conversation?

The renters have since been evicted and I think three gay guys have taken over the house. Unfortunately the garage sale lady is still living across the street, but we don't really hear anything from her--except when she's barking at her dog.

Irrational Fears

2009-04-20T12:22:00.002-06:00

So Caeden has had a series of nightmares lately. One night he woke up screaming, "Bees! Bees!" Another night he woke up in a sweaty mess mumbling something about how the bugs were going to get him. This weekend I took him to the park where he sat at the top of the slide refusing to go down because there was a ladybug at the bottom. I asked him why the ladybug was so scary and he said that it was going to fly into his eye.

Um...where does he get these ideas? Trying to help tame his fears, I went to the library and checked out "Elmo's Springtime" which has a section featuring an assortment of singing, friendly, happy bugs. Okay, so maybe it's a little creepy, but I was hoping to ease his mind. We are entering bug season, you know, and Minnesota's national bird is the mosquito.

Gluttony

2009-04-14T07:14:00.002-06:00

Five beautiful words on the Dairy Queen sign this morning:

We now have cheese curds.

Kids

2009-04-12T19:30:00.004-06:00

My daughter was in a car accident recently.

While walking with one shoe on and one shoe off, which she insists is the only way to walk, she was gripping a little hot wheels car in her hand. Her brother and another friend were playing with cars and had them splayed all over the floor. She happened to step on one, did a banana peel flip and landed with a hot wheel shot to the eye. For a solid week now she's had a full-on black eye Brad Pitt would be proud of.

She's also the climbier one of my two kids. Today she climbed up onto a chair, then onto the high chair where she stood swaying. She survived this climb, but she usually doesn't. My little sweetie has two matching bruises on the sides of her forehead from previous climbs. The other day she was walking on our driveway trying out her new sandals. As per her usual, she was hoarding toys in her hands and under her neck. When she tripped over her unbendy new sandaled feet, her hands were unavailable to break the fall. Her face, however, was available, and so now she's got a skinned nose.

The worst part is I think she might have an ear infection but there's no way I'm taking her in to see the doctor with all of her facial bruises in various stages of healing.

My two and a half year old is very observant of the world around him. His vocabulary is catching up with everything he notices, but he still has trouble with sounds. For example, he can't say the "tr" blend. Instead, he pronounces "tr" as "f." So imagine what Interstate 35 was like all the way home from Iowa today.

"Mom look! I see a great big f***!" "Wow, that's a super-fast f***!" And, he has a little Elmo one too. "Watch my Elmo f***!"

He also has trouble with the "st" sound--he pronounces it as "d." So when we were outside playing in the yard he said, "Wow! I found a big d***!" "Mom, you want this big d***?" "Oh, I keep the big d*** and you get the little d***."

Absence

2009-04-07T11:37:00.004-06:00

Holy long silence since the last post, Batman! I'd like to say that I've been really busy, but I don't think I'm busier than any other blogger, yet I'm virtually the only one who has been derelict in my writing.

The real skinny is that by the time I finally get finished with my day at work, bring home the kids, entertain them while trying to do household chores, make dinner for the kids, bathe and pj them and make my lunch for the next day all I really want to do is plop down and watch Dancing with the Stars (or Friday Night Lights--apparently I can't get enough Riggins, Lyla or Coach).

And really the blog is a metaphor for my life. It's not the only thing I've been neglecting. Things on the short list include the following:

My diet. Don't get me wrong, I eat plenty of things I should (sugar snap peas, cherry tomatoes, fruit and meat--no bread--for lunch), but plenty of things I shouldn't ("Grown-up Grilled Cheese" at Baker's Square, butter soup--they call it tomato basil, but seriously, when the oil slick on top of the substance is both large and clear enough to display all of Roy G. Biv, it hardly qualifies as soup anymore). I just wish all of the stars would align and I could get all of my diet kinks ironed out. I do have a wedding in July in which the average size of a bridesmaid will be a 6--with me adding all 6 dress sizes and throwing off the average. I'd like to look good by then.
My reading. I've been into guilty pleasures like Gonzalez & Daughter Trucking Co (good quick YA read, by the way) and People magazine. I need to start reading books that are, less, well, embarrassing to admit, yanno? In an attempt to right this wrong I started The Tipping Point last night and found myself referring to it twice today just so that people don't think the only thing I know about is Katie Holmes' latest fashion faux paux.
My cleanliness. I don't think my legs have seen a razor in the last six months. With snow in April, what's the point? Plus, after the prickly stage, leg hairs just get soft, so they're not causing any whisker burn ifyaknowwhaddimean.
Analyzing my dreams. I haven't devoted much thought to the underlying psychosis that makes me dream that of my nine remedial reading students, I caught two smoking--in the classroom--and one shot me in the ribs with a nail gun.

So blogworld, there are plenty of other things I've been neglecting too. I'd like to say I'll get better in the future, but probably not immediately: Dancing with the Stars is on tonight.

Testament

2009-03-02T16:11:00.003-06:00

My husband's cousin, Julia (not her real name), got a new camera for her last birthday. It was one of those snazzy cameras that has slick tricks like making the entire picture black and white except for whatever color you program it to pop out. Although it doesn't have "double-chin reduction" (which I believe would make an excellent feature), it does have an amazing storage capacity. Julia took over 400 pictures with her new camera. Then she promptly lost it. Not only was she completely bummed, but she lost all (over) 400 special memories captured with that camera. Also, she's a scrapbooker, and you know how they are about their pictures.

Anyway, some random guy who works at TGIFridays was fine-cleaning a grimy old booth when he found, tucked between the cushion and the back, said snazzy camera. He knew that this was an expensive camera and guessed she'd be missing it. So random TGIFridays-dude-turned-sleuth went on a mission to return the camera to its rightful owner. After viewing all (over) 400 pictures, he had quite a, well, picture of Julia's life. And so, in detective work that would have made Sir Arthur Conan Doyle proud, he pieced together the clues.

From the photos in her camera, he surmised that the owner probably had three or four kids (most likely four, although one of the kids seemed to be pictured quite a bit less than the other three) and that they were aged 8, 6, 4 and 3 (he was spot on by the way). By viewing some photos of a basketball game in which the scoreboard was displayed, he guessed where the owner was from. He knew that the owner's family had taken a summer trip to Michigan and a fall trip (sans kids) to New York. Armed with that, and a few more details, he emailed the school district of the small town where he guessed she was from. Someone in the school district recognized all of the descriptors and proceeded to email one of the churches in the small town. The pastor of the church is Julia's father, my husband's uncle. Once he saw the email, he let Julia, who actually lives about two hours away from the small town, know that someone had found her camera. At long last, Julia (feeling a little creeped out, but grateful) was reunited with her camera and (over) 400 photos. Further, she resolved to take more pics of the less-featured child.

That got me to thinking....what would my camera say about me or my life? Or, what would my credit card statement say about me? It would easily reveal that I am frequently running late in the morning & have to make a breakfast stop at McDonald's or Bruegger's (plain cream cheese on a plain bagel...go ahead and say it, but I love it). Mostly it would scream, "I LOVE TARGET!"

So how about you? What would your credit card or camera say about you?

Introducing

2009-02-11T12:59:00.002-06:00

I was teaching my students about word connotations today. You know, how "home" connotes something different than "house" and how "emaciated" connotes something different than "thin" and (okay, I'm going there) how "George W. Bush" connotes something different than "presidential."

We discussed why sports teams would rather be known as the "Bears" or "Giants" or "Raiders" instead of the "Butterflies" or "Pond Lillies" or "Rainbows" (although what's up with the "Dolphins" and "Packers?") Since we were there, I thought about moving the topic along to why it is offensive to many American Indians to have mascots like the "Braves" or "Indians," but thought I didn't have enough time--today--to do that topic justice.

Then we moved on to the names of cars. They were able to brainstorm quite a list of car names and their corresponding connotations: Escape, Avalanche, and the classic blunder, Nova.

Students then got to create their own car, name it, and then try to "sell" it to the rest of the class.

So, without further ado, let me introduce you to the all-new Chevy Slug. Slogan, "All-Terrain Slug Power."

According to them: "This car is perfect for hunters with its camouflage system. The all-terrain slug can go up to 10 mph and gets 30 mpg. You can climb up cliffs and mountains with no problem. With its ultra grip tires you climb straight up! It is a two-seater love mobile. Want to go on the ultimate scenic drive? Take the Slug and go anywhere!"

I know, I know

2009-02-05T11:18:00.011-06:00

I have been derelict in my blogging duties. And if you're looking for a SUPER post that makes up for all of the time between this post and my last post, sorry to disappoint. Truth is, I'm in my busiest time of the year and barely have a moment to myself. So instead of a "real" blog entry, you'll have to settle for some funny t-shirts that I've found. In an homage to my friend who organizes life by lists, I've grouped together the t-shirts into categories.

First up are t-shirts that make reference to life "Back in the day."

The next group is "Political Humor"

And the final group is "Current Slang"

Homework

2009-01-16T19:18:00.002-06:00

This is a repost from the blog of a friend of mine, but it was too right to leave as a hidden gem.

Here is an explanation of the school homework policy for the average student. Students should not spend more than ninety minutes per night. This time should be budgeted in the following manner if the student desires to achieve moderate to good grades in his/her classes.

15 minutes looking for assignment.

11 minutes calling a friend for the assignment.

23 minutes explaining why the teacher is mean and just does not like children.

8 minutes in the bathroom.

10 minutes getting a snack.

7 minutes checking the TV Guide.

6 minutes telling parents that the teacher never explained the assignment.

10 minutes sitting at the kitchen table waiting for Mom or Dad to do the assignment.

PR

2009-01-14T19:35:00.008-06:00

If ever there was a list of publicists who were worth their weight in gold, Tom Cruise's guy or gal has to have a lock on the top spot. For a while there, I fully believed that Tom had caught a bad case of the crazies. His couch-jumping, Oprah-throttling, Matt-belittling, Brooke-shaming, Scientology-theologizing shenanigans had me all but signing off on him.

But lately, he has seemed, well....likable.

He went on the Today show and apologized to Matt. He reconciled with Brooke, made an appearance on Oprah and respectfully comforted his fellow Scientologist on the loss of his son.

Sure, he was the only actor who didn't use a German accent while playing a German soldier in a movie about Hitler. But, he did do this in Tropic Thunder.

Maybe it's just me, but he's seeming pretty darn normal again. And honestly, I'm glad.

Gran Torino: A Haiku

2009-01-11T14:48:00.002-06:00

Gran Torino
Clint Eastwood: Master
Racial and family themes
Unknown actors soar

Potty 101

2009-01-07T18:19:00.003-06:00

So, Caeden has begun potty training. I'm still figuring out how to successfully orchestrate this whole business.

Seriously, how can you get the boy to the pot every 15 minutes and still have other things that you accomplish in your day? And yet EVERY TIME I take him to do the deed, he's already been wet.

Who piddles every 15 minutes or less?

Apparently he must do better at daycare because I have yet to hear the blessed tinkle tinkle of potty actually being deposited in the correct spot. However, he has not only piddled in the pot at daycare, but he has also dropped the proverbial #2.

He must like her better than me.

The Night Before Christmas

2009-01-03T12:53:00.005-06:00

This is what it looks like when you try to get four children, all aged 2 or under, to pose for a Christmas photo in their cute Christmas jammies.

From L to R:
Parker: Are you my mommy? Where'd my mommy go?
Caeden: Seriously guys?
Avery: You can make me sit here, but you can't make me look at the camera.
Grant: GET ME OUTTA HERE!

More Christmas Snapshots

2009-01-01T20:04:00.013-06:00

Quite possibly the most fun thing we did on vacation in NE was to play with a paintball gun. The game started out with my younger sister & her friend running around on foot while Aaron hid behind various objects and jumped out to shoot them with paint balls. Eventually, the two girls decided to jump on the four-wheeler and run around that way.

The Prey.

The Predator.

The Hunt.

The Head Shot.

The Aftermath.

Something Old, Something New

2009-01-01T18:33:00.006-06:00

Two of my recent favorite things:

Although it's been around for a while, I have rediscovered Amy Winehouse's "You Know I'm No Good." It's worth adding to your playlist. Also, "Clumsy" by Fergie gets an honorable mention.

My second favorite thing ("Clumsy" is not officially a favorite thing) is "Slumdog Millionaire." If you only get to one movie this holiday, make sure it's "Slumdog." (Okay, truth be told, I've only been to one movie this holiday and it was "Slumdog," but I'm fairly sure I'd have the same opinion even if I'd seen others.) You may not have heard of this sleeper flick, but it's worth the price of admission. For those of you who don't like hearing about a movie before you see it, stop reading here.

For the rest of you...

It's a story about a man from India who is on the Indian version of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" (which they pronounce Milan-are, like the people who live in Milan are). This kid is from the slums and so everyone thinks that he can't possibly know the answers to questions that lawyers, businessmen, and doctors don't know. Throughout the movie he continues to answer questions correctly, while the film flashbacks to the various, mostly tragic, situations that taught him the answers to the quiz show trivia. An interesting juxtaposition is the way the crowd wildly cheers for the main character when he answers each question correctly after the movie-goer has just seen the--usually horrific--circumstances that led up to his answer.

Also, just for kicks, check out "Booty Song" by Tim Wilson on playlist.

Christmas Snapshots

2008-12-31T08:42:00.005-06:00

My next few posts will be different snapshots of my Christmas. Although this was not the first thing that happened (I'm jumping sequence), this was the thing that made me cry and will go down in the books as one of the most tender Christmas scenes I've witnessed.

Here's the back story.

My younger sister Hannah has been in Germany as an exchange student since the end of July. Since I live two states away from the rest of my family, I'm used to not seeing her. But it was particularly difficult to be home for Christmas without her there. I have two sisters, Abby & Christine, that are younger than Hannah and they are the ones who miss her presence at home on a daily basis.

Well, for Christmas Mom told Abby & Christine that they were getting a really big present. On Christmas day, after all of the presents had been distributed and we were opening them one-by-one, Abby & Christine got to a small, rectangular box. Mom said, "Okay girls, open this one up together, it is your big present." The two girls tore into the box and pulled out this.

Two Ziploc bags full of travel-sized accessories.

Christine asked, "Are we going on a trip?" Abby said, "Do we have bad hygiene?"

While they were trying to figure out their "big present," Mom wheeled in this behind them.

Perched on two new pieces of luggage, one for Abby & one for Christine.

The two of them were quiet for a moment while they registered what this gift meant. Then Abby put her hand over her mouth and said, tearily, "We get to see Hannah? I miss her so much!" No, "Whew whoo, a trip!" Or, "Yay, a week off of school!" Or even, "Yes! Our first time on a plane!" Instead, it was all about seeing the sister that they've been missing.

I was really glad that we were there to see that.

Funky Food

2008-12-30T17:01:00.007-06:00

A couple summers ago my sister was working in the kitchen at a camp of sorts. Her job was to prepare food for university students who were studying the biology of Lake McConaughey. She ran across tons of food with 'tude. Here is a sampling of what she saw.

Oblong orange.

Conjoined strawberries.

Extra long curly fry. I know that the zoom makes it difficult to see just how long this sucker is, but trust me...it was long. (keep your "that's what she saids" to yourselves)

Pointy egg.

Green pepper lips.

To Christmas Letter or Not to Christmas Letter

2008-12-17T22:23:00.000-06:00

My absolute favorite part of the holidays is reading Christmas letters. There's just something about seeing a year summed up in a page (Christmas letter etiquette), getting a new photo of the fam, and seeing how cleverly people try to wrap it up with an overall theme. My father-in-law is a pastor, so his house is a Christmas letter magnet. I read every Christmas letter, whether I know the people or not. I know, I know, cut me off....

Anyway, I've been itching to write a Christmas letter myself. I thought that the year after I got married would be a good time to get one going. That season came and went. So did the next few. Then I thought that the year my son was born would be a good time to get one going; lots of news & updates. But I was so busy with him, that it didn't get written that year either. Then I got pregnant with my daughter & life got crazy.

Now life has settled down a little bit and I am once again considering writing a Christmas letter. But, since I haven't taken a Christmas picture of the kids, or finished Christmas shopping, and the fact that Christmas is indeed only about a week away (factoring in mailing time, etc.), I think that this season may pass me by as well. Next year, though?

Double-Speak

2008-12-11T11:09:00.006-06:00

Warning: provocative, non-empowering, women-are-sex-kittens photo ahead. Viewer discretion advised.

"Look, I think all women on some level just want to rage against the machine," she says. "There are too many movies out there that don't empower women, movies in which their only way of being happy is finding a man. And you know, that's not my favorite theme."

Yes, she looks good. But if she's concerned about empowering women...don't you think a business suit would have been a bit more appropriate?

Naked

2008-12-04T10:42:00.004-06:00

I forgot my purse in Iowa over Thanksgiving. It's weird being without a purse--all of my necessities are out of my reach. Things like my driver's license, credit card, cell, and even my cinnamon gum (mmmm, cinnamon gum). Being without a cell phone has made me stop & reflect a bit about the phenomenon of having a phone with you at all times. Here's what I've noticed:

A cell phone has totally eradicated the need to plan ahead. Go off in different spots at the mall? No worries, no pre-arranged rendezvous point, you're just a cell phone call away. Ring, ring. "Hey, where are you?" "Oh, I'm checking out these totally overpriced, genetically-mutated strawberries dipped in chocolate." "Ooooh, I'll be right there."
Now that I have a cell, I do not have ANY phone numbers memorized. (Unfortunately, I haven't copied down any of the phone numbers and saved them on my computer either--see above bullet point.) I can't call my sister to coordinate buying Christmas gifts, can't call my husband to remind him to pick up the kids, can't call for Dominos.
Without a phone, I am not available at a moment's notice. Once someone gets a cell, you expect them to answer or be available at all times of the day. They are, after all, carrying a phone around on their person. Remember when people used to have answering machines? (The old version of voice mail, young'uns) An answering machine at least gave you the illusion that the person you were trying to get in touch with was not home. With a cell, a person is expected to always be available. If they can't physically take your call, a text will do just fine.
Because I carry a phone around, I have no need for a wrist watch. Unless my cell battery dies. Again, refer to the first bullet point.

Fortunately my cell hiatus was short-lived; my purse was sent through priority, next-day delivery mail.

Horror!

2008-11-25T10:58:00.002-06:00

Egads! Wanting to learn a second language is something that white people do!

But I'd still like to...

Goals

2008-11-21T10:38:00.004-06:00

You may think that I've gone all Bucket List or Last Lecture, or maybe that I've taken a cue from the cute little boxes of Strident gum that list 20 things that are on the "to do" list (including 1) find Nessie 2) bowl a perfect 300 3) swim underwater until your face puckers), but I've set a few goals for myself. Things I want to accomplish in my life. Childhood dreams that somehow take a back seat when you become an adult with a family & a career. I think finishing the half-marathon was what has led me to believe that I can accomplish anything on my to do list. Most recent on my list are the following: 1) audition for and perform in a play (or a movie, or anything that requires acting beyond the teacher show I put on for my students on a daily basis)
2) learn to speak Spanish fluently

What do you want to do?

To the Nines

2008-11-20T12:55:00.002-06:00

I have never been, let's say, a fashion icon. I have and pretty much do dress simply. I don't have a talent for putting pieces together in some snazzy, eye-catching way. Sometimes I secretly wish for some makeover show to ambush me and fix me. After living 30 years and never having that experience once, I have learned to adapt more and find little tricks to help me with my handicap.

Ever the English teacher, I feel that I need to cite my sources.

The other day someone noticed a nice sweater/undershirt combo. Works Cited: Gap Mannequin at Censored for Safety Mall.

The eighties-ish bangs that I now sport. Works Cited: English teacher at my school who looks oh-so-cute with her full-on set of bangs.

That little vest number with the rolled up jeans and boots. Works Consulted: Out-of-town visiting sister.

And the fashion du jour, a scarf wrapped around my neck (not for warmth, but for style). Works Cited: sister in Germany who found it, boxed it and sent it overseas to me.

Random

2008-11-09T14:48:00.007-06:00

What a week! Here are a few things that have run through my stream of consciousness this week:

While watching the HBO series "The Wire" and sipping a latte (two things, by the way, that white people like), one of the characters offered up the old adage, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown." That got me to thinking--as a show mostly about running the business and busting mid-level drug dealers will do--about life today. We elected a new president who will inherit quite a bit--war, a bad reputation in the global community, a tanked economy, foreign threats......and the hopes of Americans that, "Yes we can!" It's no wonder President (elect) Obama wants to hit the ground running. Props to W for (at least seemingly) working toward easing the transition.
Speaking of P (elect) Obama, the boyfriend of a friend of mine has been working writing some of O's speeches and talking points. He has spoken to Obama directly. That makes me, like, two degrees removed from the head honcho himself, right?
Some people feel the need to get the last word in an argument. I am just such a person. I wish I was bigger than that, but it's one of my vices. So, for better or worse, allow me to say one last thing...if you've never had a conversation with someone, you're hardly qualified to comment about what someone has or hasn't been through in their "young" life.
Having completed the half-marathon, I am now running purely because somewhere along the way I started to enjoy it. That and I want to be in shape. Somehow, it's freeing not to "have" to put in a certain number of miles.
My two-year-old started taking showers. What? When did he change from a toddler to little man?
In other "time flies" news, my daughter is walking about 90% of the time.
I am now addicted to lattes. Don't know when it took me by such force (maybe coffee coolers are a gateway drug?), but now I get it.
I remember reading the books in the series "The Babysitters Club" and getting inspired to be a great babysitter. I made myself available to all for a cheap price (until I lived in Chicago, then I was like, $5/hr/kid or it's not worth my time). Where have all the babysitters gone? (Mayhaps they are reading about vampires these days and are no longer interested in babysitting?) I just want to go see a movie and maybe go out to dinner without having to eat in shifts and do a song and dance for the kids. There are times when I really wish I lived closer to family.
Due to a pre-Christmas gift of money, we now have a new computer. No more playing solitaire while I'm waiting for a page to load.

Gotta go...I'm jonesin' for a latte....

America

2008-11-04T10:40:00.002-06:00

Today I saw
scrubs, paint-splattered jeans, suits, sweats, athletic sandals without socks, high heels, designer skirts, purses, walking canes, children slung on hips, children crawling on the floor, children peering over their parents' shoulders, high school seniors, senior citizens, middle-aged folks, overalls, uniforms, people with scarves on their heads, people of Latino, Asian, African, Middle-Eastern, and European ancestry, short people, tall people, people with curly hair, straight hair, coarse hair, fine hair, hair-sprayed hair, brown, black, blonde, red, blue hair, tatoos, piercings, be-jeweled people, bespectacled people, balding people, people in wheelchairs, people with walkers, people with running shoes, people of all skin tones and colors...
Today I saw
Americans.

And I was proud.

I Spy

2008-11-03T10:57:00.002-06:00

Last night I saw....

Gas for $1.99 at three different stations.
Someone run from his car up to the hill next to the interstate so that he could pee in the trees. There was a major traffic jam and when you've got to go, you've got to go!
My two-year-old in absolute ecstasy because he rode his first amusement park ride: a Dora the Explorer bus that went up and down in the air.

Halloween Tips

2008-11-01T08:02:00.000-06:00

Halloween tips from a two-year-old:

#1. Find something fun to do while you're waiting for it to get dark enough to trick-or-treat. Example: shooting bubbles at your sister.

#2. Change into your costume. Make sure sister goes first just to check it all out before you totally buy in.

#3. Show off your costume's accessories. Tails and stingers are especially fun.

#4. Invite friends over for photo op & showing off.

#5. Practice saying "trick-or-treat" while Mom is busy with sis and sis's friend. Laugh at the two drunken sailors dressed up as a bumble bee and a pumpkin.

#6. Start at the next door neighbor's house who is bound to give you handfuls and handfuls of candy. Say "trick or treat." Get the whole holding a bag thing figured out. Run, run, run to the next house.

#7. Watch out for the house with the live monster, scary music, and smoke. Need to hold Dad's hand for that one.

#8. Run through the street. This is the only time when Mom and Dad don't make you hold their hand; take full advantage.

#9. Try to go to twice to the house that is giving away glow sticks. Those are super fun for when you're running in the street at full speed.

#10. End the night at Chipotle with a free burrito, fall into a sugar-induced coma and sleep until 8:00 the next morning.

Hollywood does Halloween

2008-10-31T10:02:00.000-06:00

Add equal parts unlimited money and creative energy and you get some great Halloween costumes! Here are two of my favorites.

Dr. Orson Hodge from Desperate Housewives takes a golf ball to the dome. Fore!

Sir Elton John reclaims the word "queen" for gays everywhere.

My sport is your sport's punishment

2008-10-28T09:44:00.000-06:00

That's the slogan on the shirt that I wore in the race, and that's exactly what it felt like--punishment. I don't know if it was the lingering chest cold that I have, the fact that the course seemed to be all hills, or if it was just one of those days, but the half-marathon was one rough ride. By the time I made it to the three mile mark, I knew I was in trouble. I still had miles numbering in double digits left to run!

I hit a wall somewhere around the fifth mile which lasted until about the eighth mile. After the eighth mile I somehow kicked it in a little better and managed to complete the rest with less difficulty. I was able to finish the race in about 2 hours and 12 minutes, which isn't too bad.

Some highlights of the race:

the two dudes who dressed up as Jamaican bobsledders (being a Halloween-ish race, costumes were encouraged) and ran together inside a cardboard bobsled--how in the world did they keep the exact same pace as each other, or more importantly, how did they run 13.1 miles without using their arms???
the lady dressed up as Cruella De'Ville with her pack of dalmatians
getting finished with mile eight
seeing Aaron twice during the race with Caeden (a little monkey) and Avery (a little bee)
running side-by-side with Sarah for a while
all five of us who'd been training with each other finishing the race
my dad at the finish line, cheering me on (Aaron tried to make it, but the racing gods were against him as he saw me at mile 12 & then couldn't quite get to the end in time)
the sweet sip of Gatorade at about mile eight
getting a massage afterwards!

All-in-all it felt great to train for and complete the race. Congrats to my gal pals who also did a great job!

90 Seconds to This

2008-09-29T09:51:00.000-06:00

"So," I turned my attention to Erin, "you're a runner, right?"

It was the last day of school and we all sat sipping our Zuppa Tuscana or Minnestrone, dipping breadsticks, and eating salad. As the conversation turned to running, excitement grew like creeping Charlie until it covered all of us. By the end of the conversation seven had committed to training for a 10 mile race in October. One would become pregnant within a month and another would get the wild idea that running causes varicose veins (it doesn't) and drop out. Five of us continued.

A few short weeks later we found out that we didn't make it into the 10 mile race that we were hoping for. Well, what the heck, we thought, let's sign up for a half-marathon.

The first time that I started running, I could barely last 90 seconds. Somehow I kept going and worked up to going seven minutes straight. I was elated, but nervous, after finishing my first 5K.
I allowed myself to sign up for a 10K by assuring myself that I could walk part of it if I needed to. It ended up that I ran the whole thing. I signed up for a 10 mile thinking that it would be a remarkable milestone. If I can make it through the ten mile, I thought, then I know that I can do the half-marathon. The ten mile race was an especially pivotal event because it was held a week earlier than the original ten mile that we couldn't get into.

Finishing the ten mile was a great accomplishment for me. I went from 90 seconds to this! My goal was to finish the entire thing in 100 minutes--averaging a ten minute mile. I actually finished in 1 hr. 37 minutes--averaging a 9 minute 40 second mile. I have to say, though, that I was definitely ready to be done after the ten miles were up. I'm glad there are a few weeks left until the half-marathon because it'll take me a while to build up to that.

One other bonus was that this was the first race that Aaron, Caeden, Avery & my dad were at. I kept looking for them all along the way. At about mile 7 I ran past Aaron & Caeden (Avery was sleeping). Seeing them energized me so much that I think I ran the next mile and a half with a smile on my face. I saw my dad at the finish line.

Here's to accomplishing goals!

Here's the pic that Aaron took right around mile 7...it's a bit blurry because I had to enlarge it.

And here's one from fotojack...

Bubble Brigade

2008-09-28T16:14:00.000-06:00

A Quiz:

Where can you find larger than life plastic fish hanging from the ceiling?

Where can you drive a city bus without having a permit?

Where can you hear hundreds of squealing tots as they dress up like a doctor, slide down a slide, play on a rooftop garden, or make their own bubbles?

The Children's Museum!

We've gone to the Children's Museum for a while now and every time there are more things for Caeden to do. This was the first time that Avery was able to play too. Her favorite spot was the "Habitot," a free-play area where kids can crawl, climb, slide, and bounce without getting hurt. She also liked playing in the water at Caeden's favorite spot.

The people at the Children's Museum sure know their stuff. Caeden was trying to balance his whole body by laying on a big ball. He lost his balance, bonked his head, and started crying. No sooner had he shed his first tear when a worker zoomed over and started blowing bubbles to distract him. A few seconds later, Caeden was ready to try it again.

FYI

2008-09-25T13:34:00.000-06:00

The link that I previously posted used to be the Tina Fey impersonation of Sarah Palin. However, the link changes on a daily basis. So I'm not sure what the link is to anymore.

In case you missed it

2008-09-14T15:52:00.000-06:00

http://entertainment.msn.com/video/playern/?pid=2HLU_6evr__HBxqGVi6GzXEVAFNFvEq0&GT1=42003

Thank you St. Paul

2008-09-13T14:47:00.000-06:00

Oh St. Paul, why do I love thee? It is because you so generously set out running stations for all of the folks that take a jaunt down Summit Avenue. Do you receive anything in return? Do you require anything? No, you simply strategically place water coolers, jolly ranchers and jelly bellies along the way for any runner who happens by needing to stop & refuel.

Today I was one such runner. I hit a wall toward the end of my run and thought for the briefest of moments that I wasn't going to make it. As I was getting mired down in doubt, I happened to look up. What did I see, but a construction-orange colored water cooler, a stack of plastic cups, a bag of jolly ranchers and a bag of jelly bellies--an oasis. It was all I needed to get over the hump and finish the run.

Love Lockdown

2008-09-13T14:15:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Sarah for showing me this video. Does anyone else think it looks a lot like Beaches meets the opening ceremonies of the Olympics?

http://www.mtv.com/overdrive/?id=1593809&vid=272698

10K

2008-09-06T15:07:00.000-06:00

Isn't there a saying that goes, "If the porta-potty is a rockin'....."?

I began my 10K race with a stop at the porta-potties. I was in line about 50 people deep with 10 minutes to race time. When I finally reached the bathroom mecca, aka a green-colored porta-potty, I was in a big time hurry. Closing the door securely behind me, I tried to quickly do my business, but found that the entire structure was rocking back and forth. In order to not make a mess of myself, I had to rock back and forth with it. After that balancing act, I was ready to go.

There were two parts to this race--a 10K and a 20 miler. The toned leg muscles, matching running outfits, and rubber belts lined with small water bottles let me know that I was in a different league than the 5K that I did in July. These were Runners--capital R. To help me get in the Running mindset, I slammed some kind of exercise-specific Jelly Bellies. They were delish and the energy started coursing through my veins right away.

I wasn't at the starting line for very long before the bullhorn sounded and I was off. The beginning part was an interesting mess of jockeying for position; changing speed to get around someone, moving to the outside lane, then cutting someone off. After a while, though, I found a pace that I could stick with and the crowd started to thin out.

Every time I hit a mile marker I thought to myself, "I feel great...must be the Jelly Bellies." Before the race started I gave myself permission to stop and walk any time that I needed to. As I was running, though, it didn't even occur to me to stop. I just kept going.

I passed people, I was passed. The finish line came quicker than I expected and I was glad to see my ending time of 58 min. 44 sec. That put me at about a 9 min 30 sec pace for the whole race--a personal best. Although I wasn't doing the race for the sake of competition, just for the sake of completion, I was still pleased with how it went. The official results aren't out yet--I'll update when they are posted.

Pics to follow....

Differences

2008-09-01T14:03:00.001-06:00

There are a few differences in being the 2nd child. It's not that the second one is any less loved, it's just that you've grown a lot more relaxed and realistic. For example:

Caeden

Had his bedroom painted and ready before he was born.

Avery

Just finished converting the office into a makeshift bedroom.

Caeden

Had his crib ready, with sheets, bumper, and blankets picked out especially for him.

Avery

Just moved out of the pack & play into Caeden's old crib. She gets his old sheets handed down.

Caeden

Researched the best car seats just in case-gasp-an accident occurred and they would be needed. Spent about $250 for two carseats.

Avery

Researched Craig's List and found two carseats for $30. Griped about driving down to Eagan to pick them up.

Caeden

Made homemade baby food, wouldn't even think about giving him whole milk until he was a year old.

Avery

Gerbers and she finds and drinks Caeden's sippy cup--usually has sour milk in it by the time she gets a hold of it.

Caeden

Kept a meticulous baby book documenting which teeth came in what order and when.

Avery

Haven't touched the baby book since she was about a month old. Still have the hospital id bracelet to put in there.

Now, for all of you second or third (or later) children out there, don't think that we don't love you. Don't think that you deserve second best. It's just that we've been broken in.

Close Encounters

2008-08-23T15:54:00.001-06:00

I do believe that fall is upon us. Exhibit A: I was outside in a tank top all day on Friday and I didn't even get a hint of a tan. Exhibit B: I start teacher workshop week on Monday. Exhibit C: My running crew chose to meet at 9:00 this morning for a run & it was actually chilly when say, oh, a week ago, it would have been about 75 degrees.

To commemorate the last official weekday of summer, Aaron and I decided to do that iconic summer activity: go to the zoo. After missing a free zoo pass at the library by this much, we went ahead and forked over the $33 for all four of us to see the animals (the kids were free). While the Minnesota Zoo is no Henry Doorly, it has a few good exhibits. I was sad to see that there weren't any elephants as Caeden is all about elephants these days. But what they lacked in elephants, they made up for in bears.

Russia's Grizzly Coast promises to be the closest encounter that you'll ever have with a bear, and they delivered! While we were standing at the window watching the bears, one hopped into the water and swam over to say hi. This bear acted all cute and cuddly, almost like, I'll go ahead and say it, a teddy bear. He was playing with his toes, watching us, and bobbing up and down. This thing was massive! I can see why one swipe would do someone in.

Here are a few pictures to prove how close we were.

Blasted Fowl

2008-08-21T08:21:00.000-06:00

I swear, I couldn't make this up. This morning I was driving with Caeden and Avery on Main Street. I was waiting for a stoplight and there, sidled up next to me in the turn lane, were four turkeys. I looked over and again, one of them turned toward my car and looked like he was going to peck me. These things are big enough to stare right into the window. Which they did. Caeden, being at direct eye-level with them, said, "Hug?"

Big Mouth Billy & Sweet Georgia Brown

2008-08-20T13:20:00.000-06:00

We spent a week at Aaron's family's cabin in Grantsburg, Wisconsin. There are actually two cabins on the same plot, so Aaron and I got one while the rest of the family stayed in the other. The trip was great, even though it rained a couple of the days.

The highlight of Caeden's trip had to be the Big Mouth Billy Bass that was hanging on the wall. For those of you Big Mouth Billy virgins (although that is hard to believe since this is one fish who has really gotten around), this is a plastic fish mounted on a plank of wood made to look like it was a prize catch. When you press a button, the fish turns its head toward you and starts singing either "Don't Worry, Be Happy" or "Take Me to the River." At first Caeden was hesitant about Billy. He would ask Aaron or I to push the button, then he would run behind the couch so that there was a piece of furniture between him and the fish. He loved to hear it sing, but only from a distance. As the week went on he became more and more brave until finally he worked up to touching the button himself. This was a blessing and a curse because although it meant that we didn't have to be around constantly to push the button for him, he would incessantly push the button. "Don't Worry, Be Happy" would be stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

Another Caeden highlight was fishing off the dock. Caeden had already had one other fishing experience with Papa Keller in which he caught real fish (if you thought he was afraid of Billy, you should have seen him when he hooked a scary 2 oz. sunny). He loved to cast the line, but the art of reeling in the fish was lost on him. At the cabin we took the hook off of the line so that he didn't hurt himself or other people when he tried his hardest to cast out. Aaron somehow tied on a grub, though, so fish would come nip at his line. Caeden was a bit confused as to why he wasn't catching any fish. He would try to entice them by saying, "C'mon fish. Bite. It's delicious." Alas, with no hook, there was no such luck.

Avery's highlight had to be the hours she spent in a floaty. This is a girl who was made for the water (which might explain her weird birthing as one moment she would decide to come out and join us in the world only to scurry back up to the safety of the water sac). Avery splashed around and kicked as hard as she could. Her distant cousins also loved pushing and pulling her around between them.

Aaron's highlight was probably accomplishing the 75 mile bike ride out to the cabin. He left early in the morning, packed with peanut butter bagels and water. He made the ride in about six and a half hours, but the heat got the best of him and he was in bad shape by the time he arrived. I was in the Dr's office this week and mentioned Aaron's symptoms and she thought that he probably had a mini heat stroke. Ouch!

My own highlight was girls' lunch out. Every year the girls in the family go to lunch at Adventures, where the grub du jour is a creamy bruschetta that I dream about every year. It's almost worth the trip just for the bruschetta.

The rest of the time was spent hanging out on the pontoon, riding the jet ski, or trying to get back up on skis (since I've been pregnant or recovering for the past 3 years, this was my first time back out in the water...it only took 3 times to be able to get up on the skis again).

When we returned, we promptly blue-taped the kitchen and spent the next few days introducing the white walls to Sweet Georgia Brown.

It seems strange to be thinking about starting school in a week. I suppose it'll be back to the old grindstone, as it were. After looking back on my summer which was filled with plenty of days outside by the wading pool, going to the park, visiting Iowa and Nebraska, fireworks and parades, time on the lake, running outside, and The View, I am really glad to be a teacher.

411

2008-08-10T07:53:00.000-06:00

For all of you blog fiends out there, I have some bad news. I'm going away on vacation for a week & won't be able to post anything new for a while. But, just so you can get your blog freak on, here are a few little known facts about me for you to chew on while I'm gone.

#1. I've thought about it for a while and come to the conclusion that insects are not more afraid of me than I am of them.

#2. I always feel a little weird saying hi to someone named Jean (or Gene). Say it, you'll see why.

#3. Because I transferred so many times in college, I basically got my education degree twice.

#4. I have a criminal record in Buffalo County (Nebraska). After 30 hours of community service and a decision-making class, I now know that egging a car because they took your parking spot is not the smartest thing to do (at least in a Wal-Mart parking lot where there will definitely be witnesses).

#5. I've never seen the movie Fargo.

#6. I once made up a batch of pretend puke so that I didn't have to go to school.

#7. I was addicted to General Hospital for a few years (post Luke & Laura, more during the Sonny & Brenda years).

#8. I used to love long car rides when I was a kid. Now that I'm the parent, I enjoy them considerably less.

#9. I used to drink pickle juice straight from the jar. I think I stopped this habit in college.

#10. I was told never to marry someone with a first name for a last name. Now I hope that advice isn't still going around since my son falls into that category.

Tone Matters

2008-08-09T07:29:00.000-06:00

Caeden and Avery usually get along pretty well. The one thing that Caeden can't stand, though, is when Avery starts to cry. He gets agitated and starts shushing her, only his shush sounds more like a scream. This scream scares Avery and so she cries even more. It's a vicious cycle. I've been trying to teach him to say, "It's okay, Avery, you're okay." I can tell he's listening, because the other day she was crying and he was getting more and more agitated with it. Finally, he said, "YOU'RE OKAY!" as loud as he could. Not quite what I was getting at....

Hangin' Tough

2008-08-08T09:59:00.001-06:00

I remember the exact moment that I crossed over. I walked up to the check-out aisle of the store, money stuffed tightly in my fist. I was wearing blue jeans tightly rolled above the two different colored socks I wore (one stacked on top of the other) and bright white Keds on my feet. My hair was permed in an ungodly curly-all-over-your-head way (bad layers) so that I knew when people were looking at me they were trying to decide if that was really me or if I had a poodle on my head. But I didn't care at that moment, because at that moment I was joining the ranks of people who worshipped at the house of The New Kids on the Block. My welcome gift? The black, plastic wristwatch that had a picture of the New Kids on a flip-up top under which was a digital clock.

My friends had been New Kids fans for quite a while, but I maintained that they (the New Kids, not my friends) were stupid. I turned my nose up anytime someone would mention them. I think most of my disdain was that I just wasn't the kind of kid that was allowed to do things, like listen to the radio. I didn't know anything about the New Kids--their music, their memorabilia, their posters. My room was decorated with anti-abortion posters. Posters of music groups were frowned upon--only girls who lusted after boys would put up a poster of a music group in their room.

Secretly, though, I think I envied the life. I wished that I could have a New Kids t-shirt. Finally, just as the New Kids were on the cusp of turning from popular boy band into late night joke fodder, I crossed over. I saved up my own money and bought myself a New Kids wristwatch. I believe that the wristwatch was a gateway drug; it opened me up to all kinds of pop culture. Sure, at times I had to go underground because all of that silliness was "of the world," but I felt like I was really being a teen.

Now the New Kids are making a comeback. They're performing in the twin cities this weekend and people have been lined up since 3:30 in the morning to see them. People are reminiscing about their own New Kids experiences. Me, I always remember the New Kids as my gateway. Their wristwatch is long gone, but the experience of having joined the rest of the population, although late, is still with me.

Natural Enemies

2008-08-01T08:55:00.000-06:00

I don't know what it is about wild fowl, but somehow the gods have decided that we are natural born enemies. Birds, for whatever reason, feel the need to attack me. I don't provoke them; I try to give them wide berth, but they find me anyway. Find me, and attack me.

Lest you think I am joking, let me give you a few examples of what I am talking about. Example #1: Rewind about six years to the campus of Northwestern College. A friend and I decided to play hooky and take a walk down around the lake. We crossed a bridge and wound our way down to the shoreline when we started hearing this far off honking noise. The noise got louder and louder and I turned just in time to see a Canadian goose flying directly at me. All I saw was a tiny little head, two huge wings, and two beady little eyes that were zeroed in on me. I turned just in time and ran off, backpack flapping up and down on my back.

Example #2: Fast forward a few years and picture the Allen farm in Ogallala. Doug (patriarch of the Allen farm) decided that it would be a good idea to buy some geese. Although I questioned his purchase, he said that geese are good because they eat the thistles that get stuck in everyone's shoes, animal's paws, and people's feet. Knowing the dreaded creatures were always lurking around, I was on guard every time I was outside. One time, though, they caught me off-guard. A crop duster was flying overhead and I turned up to view the low-flying plane. Seeing that my attention was otherwise occupied, the geese (all three) spread their wings and ran me. I saw them out of the corner of my eye and took off running. These geese couldn't fly yet, but that didn't stop them. Wings raised, heads down, beaks open, these geese were hissing and chasing me. I ran to the house and had one of those moments you see in the movies when someone is fumbling with the doorknob trying to get in before the murderer grabs them. Finally I got in the house and was safe. They stood at the window and honked at me.

Example #3: The other day I was driving on the highway. I saw the traffic ahead slowing and so I adjusted my speed as well. As my car crept forward, wouldn't you know it but four wild turkeys decided to cross the highway directly in front of me. I thought, "You suckers aren't going to get me this time. I'm in a car; car trumps turkey," and started honking my horn to hurry them along. Three of them passed without incident, but the last one turned his head. We made eye contact. I honked my horn some more and this bird turned toward me and pecked my hood!

Needless to say, I have a healthy fear of wild fowl.

The Last Lecture

2008-07-30T08:31:00.000-06:00

I'm sure you've heard of it by now. Especially since it's been in the news that the author just died. I borrowed this book from my sister and finally got around to reading it this week. It's not any great work of literature, but it chronicles an interesting life and the lessons the author learned along the way.

Randy Pausch was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, but was determined to spend the last few months of his life really living. And leaving a legacy for his children. I think that's the part that got to me the most; the fact that he was making arrangements for his family to go on without him. So the book chronicles his life so that his kids will know about him as they get older and he's no longer there. He had a very interesting life and accomplished virtually all of his childhood dreams. He wanted to be Captain Kirk on Star Trek, he wanted to work as a Disney Imagineer, he wanted to be a teacher, among other things.

His three children are too young to understand that he is going to die, so he doesn't tell them. Instead, he spent every moment making memories with his kids. Some of them were big ones so that they were sure to remember it when they got older (he took his 6 year old to go swimming with dolphins--by his account, swimming with dolphins is something you don't forget). Another thing that got to me was that in every experience he was having with his children, he was saying good-bye, but they were unaware.

He also spent some time talking to children who had lost one of their parents when they were younger. He wanted to know what some of the most special memories or keepsakes were from their parent. Randy learned that the thing these kids who grew up without a parent most loved, was hearing about how they interacted with their parent before he/she died. They liked knowing that they had a relationship. So Randy started keeping a record of all of the things that he liked about his kids and all of the things that he enjoyed doing with them.

On that note, here are a few of the things that I like about my two kids.

Caeden--I like the sound of him sucking his thumb--it sounds kind of plastic-y. I love the way he is so interested in books. I like that he says, "Mommy, look at this!" whenever he is doing something new or entertaining (like balancing with one foot, or jumping as high as he can). I like watching him water the plants because he enjoys holding the hose so much. I love the way he talks, "Mommy, a rick (drink) a pees (please)." I like the smell of his favorite stuffed animal, B, because it smells just like him. I like the way he grabs his sister's head and plants a kiss right on the top of it, leaving a little wet mark.

Avery--I like the way that she takes your head in both of her hands and smashes her little face against yours. I like that she laughs so hard when you tickle her little leg rolls. I love that when she pulls herself up and is able to stand on her own, she gets so excited that she falls down. I love the way she jumps as hard as she can in her exersaucer. I love the way her puffs get stuck on her face without her even knowing it. I like the way she opens her mouth, just like a baby bird, when there is a spoon full of oatmeal coming her way. I love how when she sees you in the room, she abandons whatever she was doing to crawl over anything that is in her way so that she can be close to you.

Operation Cry-It-Out

2008-07-28T13:35:00.000-06:00

My darlin' little sweetie is almost 8 months old. That means that for 8 solid months I have not had a full night's sleep. Sure, she's gotten better...now she usually only wakes up once a night. But still....EIGHT MONTHS. About a week and a half ago, I thought, "I've had it. This girl is going to sleep through the night," and decided to let her cry it out. For those of you out there who aren't parents, that means basically what it says, you let your baby cry until he/she/it realizes that you have decided not to come in to give him/her/it a bottle, or a pat on the back, or help finding the pacifier, or in my case all three, anymore. Sure, it sounds fairly horrible. But after eight months, c'mon!

So, I moved Avery's crib into the basement so that her crying would not wake up our other little rascal (who also has been waking up a fair amount during the night lately). I brought my own pillows and blankets down into the basement too, because although I was perfectly willing to let her cry for as long as it took, I wanted to be right there in case she needed me.

The first night she cried for an hour and a half before she finally fell asleep on her own. What is especially difficult about this for me is that Avery is probably one of the most easy-going babies out there. I seldom hear her cry at all during the day. So crying for 90 minutes means she had a pretty rotten night. The next morning she woke up hoarse and with a runny nose. She was also in a foul mood. I felt horrible. Throughout the day she got worse. She even spiked a small fever. Eventually I saw that her gums were also red & swollen. She had decided that now was a good time to invite two more teeth to descend from her gums into her mouth. This is a physically painful process for a baby, so--you guessed it--I had to abandon my plans to let her cry it out. You're not supposed to do it if your baby is sick or in pain.

The next night Avery cried for two hours. Not because I wanted her to or because I wasn't giving her a bottle, patting her on the back, or helping her to find her pacifier (or in my case all three), but because her sore little gums wouldn't give her a moment's peace. The rest of the week passed in runny nose, sore gum misery.

Until last night. Last night she could finally breathe through her nose again. Two little teeth have indeed poked through. And, you guessed it--operation cry-it-out is in the plan for tonight.

5K

2008-07-26T12:31:00.000-06:00

Avery and me before the big event.
All five of us before we started the run. Laura, Erin, me, Angi, and Michelle
All five of us with our new shirts on after the run.

I just finished my first 5K race ever. No, that's a bald-faced lie. I've actually been in two previous 5Ks, but I was pregnant both times, so I walked them. I just finished running my first 5K race, there, now that is ever so much more truthful.

I woke up this morning at my usual time thinking, "No big whoop. I'm running a 5K. I've been running longer than that for a couple of weeks now. " But I had some jitters about it. Running by yourself is one thing, running with a pack of sports-bra wearing, high-pace setting, 'I've-done-this-a-million-times' racers is something else. My one goal today: break 35 minutes.

So I got together with my running friends and together we wound our way down to Lake Nokomis. The air was festive, music was playing, people were jumping around in the runner's equivalent of a pre-boxing match warm-up. I was getting pumped. The 10K was just finishing up, so like all the newbies, I pretended I knew what I was doing and lined the end of their race to cheer them on. Once the final runners from that race came in, the event leaders herded all of us to our own starting point.

I got my spot right up front. The announcer came on and made a few announcements, then said, "For those of you running a 20 minute or less 5K, please come and line up in the front." I scooted back. "Okay, now those of you who are running a 22 minute or less 5K, please line up right behind them." Seriously? I scooted back. "24 minutes?" Now I feel lame. "25-30 minutes?" Sheepishly, I joined that pack. What? So my goal was 35 minutes. That's close enough, right? Plus, I didn't want to be at the end of the line.

After a few more announcements, they sounded a blow horn, and we were off! At this point it was probably about 8:45 and the sun was creeping ever so much higher in the sky in its attempt to reach its full 86 degrees. No matter, I could run the race on pure adrenaline.

An interesting thing happened at about mile one. There were people lined up alongside of the race holding out small glasses of water for the participants. I thought, shoot, I'll take some of that. While trying to keep my pace, I grabbed a dixie cup from someone's outstretched hand, tried to drink it, ended up splashing it all over my face, coughing, and then tossing it into a nearby garbage can. Now I know. Stay away from the dixies.

The rest of the race was fairly uneventful. I found a pace and stuck with it. It was much quicker than my normal pace, but I knew I could do it. When I hit the 2 mile mark and my watch read 20 minutes, I knew I was cruising (for me). I ended the race at 32 minutes 10 seconds. While I was not the first person through the balloon columns designating the finish line, I was also a good ten or more minutes in front of many others. I got passed. I passed others. All-in-all, a descent race. All five of us finished in 38 minutes or less. Not too shabby.

While my running friends know my end time, there are a few things about the event that they didn't know. Here are a few:

This morning I hopped in the shower to shave my pits, but left my legs untouched. I ran with hairy legs.
Before I started the race, I popped a piece of gum into my mouth. That's become my habit. It is to me what a basketball player's number of dribbles before they shoot a free-throw is to them. I pop it into my mouth, let my tongue turn it into a nice ball, and then tuck it up neatly on the top of my mouth. Not entirely sure why.
As the race was beginning, I was looking at the people who were wearing headphones with envy. The rules clearly said that they were not allowed. I wished I'd been gutsy like them and brought mine anyway.
About one minute and thirty seconds into the race I thought, "That's it? Only one minute has gone by? Uh-oh."
At about mile two I was thinking, "Remember when we didn't make it into the 10 mile race and we went ahead and signed up for the half-marathon thinking, 'What's three more miles?' Well, this is it. This is 3 more miles. What in the world am I in for?"
At about two and a half miles I was thinking, "I really should have gone to the bathroom first."
I got to the place where I thought the finish line should be (the place we started), but it had been moved and I thought, "Blast those race workers."

Although it was a challenge, I think I fared well. Next up: 10K! September 6th. Uh-oh!

Saint Elmo's DVD

2008-07-26T11:51:00.000-06:00

I think there is a special place in heaven reserved for Elmo. Aaron has been feeling under the weather for the past few days. We went tubing the other day and while he was being thrown, bashed against the waves, tube leaping in the air, he must have picked up some water in his ear. This has made him feel very dizzy. When he turns his head it takes a moment for his senses to catch up to him. Walking has even been difficult. We've been looking online on web m.d to find if his symptoms mean anything more serious, but it seems that water is indeed the culprit. We've even tried a home remedy; I filled his ear with vinegar and something else (his concoction) in an attempt to dry it all out. Hopefully that'll work.

Meanwhile, we've got two little ones that need caring for. Enter Elmo. On days like these, I am not too proud to put in a dvd and let the kids veg out while I do the dishes or prepare dinner. And while Elmo is singing the praises about being a dog or a cat (his latest dvd being about pets), I am able to grill up a chicken breast or cut up some watermelon.

'Tis better to give

2008-07-25T12:24:00.000-06:00

For a long time, I've been a taker, not a giver. I have fought against the adage that it is better to give than receive. I much prefer receiving.

Around Christmas time one of my favorite things to do is read Christmas letters. There is something about reading a year's summary of one's life that just gets to me. It has become a sick obsession; I even read Christmas letters at other peoples' houses--letters from people I don't even know. Yet, I have never once written my own. I prefer receiving.

Blogging has been the same way. I have many friends' blogs bookmarked and saved to my favorites. Every day, sometimes more than once a day, I check to see if there has been something new posted on their blogs. If there has, I read them over and chuckle to myself (I have very witty friends). If there isn't, I curse them...."Do you mean to tell me that it has been ONE MONTH since you last posted??" But have I left any comments? Do I invite them to view my blog? Nope. I prefer receiving.

My hypocrisy smacked me between the eyes yesterday. I was talking to one of my sisters, in essence saying good-bye because she's off to Germany to be an exchange student for the next year. As I was saying good-bye, I said, "You know what you should do? You should start a blog so that I can stay updated on your life." Read: give me more, more, more.

So finally, I decided that I'd put my own voice out there. No sooner had I decided to write my own blog than the disclaimers started flying. I'm not as interesting as my friend Shiloh. I'm not as good of a writer as my friend Erin. I don't know how to turn every little thing into a hilarious story like my friend Jenny. I'm not experiencing life in a new country like my sister Hannah. I don't have as much as what I like to call "cool" knowledge as my friend Ann. All those thoughts shot rapid fire, but then I thought, all of my friends already know that about me.

So, blogging world, here I am. This blog is what it is. This is my attempt to give a little instead of always receiving.