Who Invited Them?

Thursday was the annual Hadlock Family Reunion. This is the "Be Seen At" event of the year. Mountains are moved and miracles are created to be at this party. One person showed up five (5!) days after giving birth a few years ago. Short of death or a freak summer BYU football game, there are no other excuses as to why you can't be there. Trust me. I know. Because we drove all the way home from our honeymoon without stopping so we could catch the end of the reunion eight (8!) years ago. Unfortunately, we couldn't find where it was, so we didn't make it afterall. And another year, a concert I desperately wanted to attended was scheduled for the same night. We didn't have Josh yet, it is Wade's family, I thought I'd be okay with just a one hour appearance at the reunion, but I was nearly shunned for the entire year for picking the concert over the reunion. I have come to accept the family reunion as a yearly must-do event.

The actual planning stage begins in January when a family member treks, barefoot, in the snow, uphill both ways to the Parks and Recreation Department to schedule the exact pavillion we need for our familial needs. Then, beginning in March, Wade's dad reminds us nearly every time he sees us of the date for the reunion. Sometimes, I like to play dumb:

"June 25? What's going on then?" or:

"Hey, did you hear we're going on vacation from June 24 to June 26?"

It's great to see his eyes widen in disbelief that we would schedule something over an event so spectacular and amazing as the family reunion.

On Memorial Day, we have a precursor reunion at Wade's parents house. A sort of trial run after visiting grandpa at the cemetary. This sets the stage for our actual family reunion a month later. Warms us all up for the upcoming festivities. It's not advised to come into this reunion cold.

So comes June 25 (though the date changes, it's always in the later part of June and on a Thursday). We make our way to the park pavillion that is rightfully ours, thanks to our fearless family member that risked life and limb on their hike to the Parks and Recreation Department six months prior.

There's not a lot that's organized about the event--we sit around and talk quite a bit, have a few pick up games--but over the years we've added a few staples. Every family is responsible for their own lunch. Then we have a snow cone station set up.

It should be noted that I LOVE snow cones and sometimes wonder if this is the whole reason I show up year after year. Well, that and good company, of course, because I could just buy my own snow cone machine for $20 at Wal-mart. I try to keep myself to four or five snowcones, but I have, in years past, been known to top out at eight or nine. I wasn't feeling so hot this year, so I stopped at two.

Other stations include the game station and the sleeping station.

Over the years we've added activities to our reunion. There's a horseshoe pit where the guys (and a few girls) take turns throwing crescent shaped metal objects at big sticks stuck in the ground. It looks to me to be a very difficult game given how far the stick is and the accuracy in which you have to throw the object, but there is a core group of relatives that really enjoy this game and are surprisingly good at it.

There's water balloon volleyball that has taken on a whole new level of competitiveness over the years. What was once a nice, friendly game has turned into a death match. I opted to stay out this year. This event is usually followed by a water fight instigated by Wade or his brothers--all of whom are 30 or older (well, almost 30, but still...). I don't think it happened this year. If it did, Wade made it out pretty unscathed.

Wade's sister rents a cotton candy machine and we all pig out on even more sugar. (I try to make half of my snow cones using the sugar free syrup to lessen the sugar poisioning that always befalls me after the reunion). Then someone cooks "Tuffies", which is a homage to Grandma's meager upbringing where they ate fried bread a lot.

Every year, we have a few unsuspecting souls try to barge in on our gathering. They figure since it's such a big lawn and there's so many people, four more won't make a difference. But we Hadlocks, we know our kind and we can sniff out imposters. So, our designated bouncer will amble over to the offenders and scoot them off our land.

This year was no different. I saw four people casually walk over to our area. At first glance, they were an odd collection of souls. They could've been a family out for a nice picnic on a Thursday afternoon, but they didn't really look like that's what they were doing. For starters, they were all wearing badges. Is it necessary to have name tags when there's only four of you? So I thought maybe they were co-workers out for a nice lunch hour. But why the pavillion at the park that's tucked away? I watched our "bouncer" talk to them and they turned around and walked back the way they came. I returned to my conversation and then noticed the group reappearing with a small folding table and an ice chest. I was very interested in this turn of events because in years prior we've never allowed anyone to infringe on our reunion space.

Out in the open land, they set up shop. Such a bizarre collection of items they brought. I was intrigued. It was after Wade's uncle called over everyone who was blood related that I realized two things: (a) in the 15 minutes since I'd shown up, I already had a blog entry, which allowed me to relax and enjoy the event without having to fabricate a story and (b) we now have a new activity to add to our annual repertoire.

Genetic Testing.

That's right. Just when I thought the family couldn't get any weirder someone invites phlebotomists to the reunion. Wade's uncle, who has pulmonary fibrosis, invited a group from the U of U who was researching the condition and if it was hereditary to come to our family reunion to test the relations. Grandpa and Grandpa's brother both had it as well.

I have been to many a family reunion in my time. I have been to some very strange family reunions. But never have I been to a reunion where people were giving blood. There are few things more awesome than having phlebotomists show up at your family reunion to draw blood. It was like our own little tribute to Twilight. I can't wait until next year to see what testing we (by "we" I mean, those blood related. Since I married in, I'm exempt, but it's fun to watch everyone else) will endure. I'm all for seeing who REALLY is a Hadlock.

Camper Confessions

You are doing something wrong if your camping trip doesn't end with a visit to InstaCare.

Cue why I don't particularly like to camp. Camping does not bring fond memories of my childhood back to me. We went three times growing up. Once, when I was about 18 months old, and I touched all the dead fish that had washed up onto the shore and then subsequently spent the next two days puking my brains out. The experience scarred my mom so bad (since my twin brother was doing the same thing on the other side of the van on our way to the closest motel) that we didn't go again until I was nearly a teenager. Then we went twice in consequtive years. I don't recall anything bad happening. It was a lot of fun. But my dad isn't much of an outdoors kind of guy and my mom hated the organization of it all and the rest of us just didn't care that much and so we didn't go after that. We went to Europe and Mount Rushmore and Nauvoo instead. Much more my type of vacationing.

When I married Wade, we spent a lot of time backpacking, though we did do some car camping on occassion. And, since starting to have kids, we've fallen into a routine where we get out once a year with friends. It's plenty for me.

Four things that I hate are being cold, not feeling well, lack of sleep, and all of the above happening at the same time.

Thursday, we headed up camping with Wade's brother, his brother's family and some mutual friends of which we all have an intertwining friendship with. Despite my misgivings with camping, I realize that it was an important part of pretty much everyone else's life growing up and so I try to go along with it. I like what Wade's co-workers from India say: You spend all this time and money to get a good job so you can get a good home and then for fun you want to go spend the weekends living in primative conditions and sleeping in tents?

Thursday, during the day, I felt the beginnings of a bladder infection coming on. I get them fairly frequently and I know of a few tricks to keep the symptoms at bay. Unfortunately, it had already progressed past that point. However, we've been planning this trip for a while and I had spent a lot of money at Wal-mart (camping isn't cheap, no matter what anyone says) and I didn't want to disappoint, so I kept my mouth (mostly) shut. I thought maybe I could flush it out with a lot of water.

Um...no.

At the risk of sounding a little like grandma's monthly newsletter that goes into a lot of detail about these kind of things (hey, it's a small town, she's 89, there's not a lot going on. A bladder infection could really be the highlight of the month. Don't judge) I'll spare you the details except to say that the symptoms only got worse when I was sitting, standing, or laying down. In short, I was pretty miserable.

I awoke yesterday morning after not having slept all that much (note to self: don't wear watch to bed when camping) and stumbled my way through the day. The rain (lots and lots of rain) didn't help my mood any and I was only feeling worse by the hour. Come nightfall, coupled with being cold and wet and already tired, I was not a happy camper. At 3:15 in the morning, I sat up in our tent and annouced to Wade that I hated camping and I was miserable. Wade, to his credit, sweetly replied, "what's wrong, honey?" I, taken back by such a sweet-natured response to his obviously crazy wife, calmly replied back that I was done with the rain (hello? Three weeks of rain?), I didn't feel good, and I wanted to go home. I stopped short of crying for my mommy, but don't think the thought didn't cross my mind. I believe Wade even muttered something about my hormones, which deserved a smack at the least, but I was too cold and miserable to venture over to his side of the tent.

Come to find out, Wade doesn't even remember the conversation. He was apparently sleep talking, which would explain his sweet reply to my crazy rant. But not his "hormone induced" comment.

After another sleepless night, I emerged from the tent and made my way for the upteenth time to the bathroom. My body finally screamed "you nimwit, get some help before I really make this miserable" (details aren't necessary, but it was blatantly obvious things were in fact going to get a lot worse) and Wade and I scrambled to get our gear packed and home. We would've stopped at InstaCare on the way, but remember how bad you smell once you leave the campsite? You love the smell of the campfire when you're sitting in it's wake, but as soon as you're packed away in the car, you realize that it's a very revolting smell. So, after showering, I made a trip back into Salt Lake and InstaCare and now get the added benefit of orange sweat, and pee--a side effect of the medication.

A note of apology to my fellow campers, of which I was especially cranky with this morning. Wade knew I was having a bit of a problem, but I don't think he realized how bad it really was. Other than that, I'm not sure anyone else picked up on it, and just thought that I was having a terrible time with camping in general. Which I wasn't. I was actually having a lot of fun except for this minor wrench in the plans. And so an apology for being the wet blanket on everyone's morning.

It's Official!

It's official! I have hereby been certified as a Mathematician from the University of Utah.

And trust me, if they gave ME a degree in mathematics, they'll apparently give ANYONE a degree in mathematics.

I got my diploma in the mail just this very day. I ripped it open and spread out my piece of paper and reveled in the knowledge that I do not ever have to step foot on the campus of the University of Utah ever again.

Until my son, the Doogie Howser M.D. of Tooele County, graduates from medical school in 12 years. Of course, he'll go to John Hopkins...

So, no, I never have to set foot on campus ever again.

Wait, I run an annual 5k on campus in September every year...so other than that little jaunt down memory lane...

I'M DONE!!!!!

Night Owl, Early Bird

It's been established that I am not a morning person. Wade can attest to this when the job falls to him to awaken me for 9:00 church. I have been blessed with children who are not early birds as well, and in the perfect world this is an ideal situation.

However, in my perfect world, I have a ripped and toned body that can cross a 5k in under 25 minutes and can qualify for Boston. I'm far from this dream, but I'm trying to get my body on board. And so I've found a few friends with the same goals and we're trying to get there together. But that means that exercising has to come when we can all do it.

After factoring in husband work schedules, kids and babysitters, husbands in school and in scouts and everything else, our exercising schedule looks a little like this:

Monday: Swim at 5:45 am. Track intervals at 9:30 am (because we can bring our kids and let them run around).
Tuesday: Tempo (faster than normal) run of between 3 and 8 miles starting at 6-6:30 and lasting a half hour to an hour and a half, depending on the mileage.
Wednesday: Swimming at 5:45 am.
Thursday: Road Biking at 6:30 am. 1 hour
Friday: Long run of between 6 and 12 miles. Starting at 6 am or earlier, depending on the mileage.
Saturday: Mountain Biking at 7 am.

This means that I don't sleep in...ever. I really miss sleeping in. Waking up when I hear the first rustle from Aunika. Or Josh comes in. Today, Aunika didn't even wake up until 8:45 and Josh, I had to wake up at 9:20 to go to the track. That would've been perfect sleep time, except for that I'd been up since 5:30.

And it'd all be fine except for that my body does not want to go to sleep before midnight. And the biggest problem I have is that I hate my alarm clock and so I wake up at least once an hour to see how much time I have left before it's suppose to go off. The last two hours practically every night, I'm awake almost every 15 minutes. It's this weird anxiety that I'm going to oversleep, or that my alarm will go off and scare me.

So it doesn't really matter that both kids are incredible sleepers, because I'm not. And so in addition to this crazy training schedule I have going on, I'm also trying to do it on minimal amounts of sleep.

Which means, it's 9:30...is it too early for a nap?

My Father, the Car Enthusiast

Thursday at Toastmasters, I got to evaluate my dad's speech. He gave an interesting speech on the different cars he's driven over the years.

I had no idea he was so fascinated with cars.

He commented on his Fiat he had before my brother wrecked it. Even said that after he paid $1600 f0r a new paint job and his son crashed it that "oh well. Life goes on." I, of course, set the record straight by commenting during my evaluation that while "life went on, I had only seen my father cry twice the entire time I was growing up and that was ocassion number one."

He also mentioned the blue minivan we drove around in forever, saying that it "fit his family of seven very comfortably." I'm not sure which family he was referring to because there were only five of us. I think that my parents got it to separate the three of us before one of us was killed at the hands of another. It was also nice so that we could bring a friend along on occassion too witness our sibling love.

He spent some time describing his first car, a 1957 Pontiac that his uncle had given him. In all of my 28 years, I don't recall him talking about a 1957 Pontiac given to him by his uncle. However, upon furthering questioning with my mom, I realize the 1957 Pontiace was in fact "Fat Mertle" that is referenced on occassion. I had no idea that he received it from his Uncle when he was 16. I thought that was pretty cool.

Another new tidbit mentioned in his speech was that he went to work one summer for a guy specifically because he had a (some famous year) corvette. To this day, he still seems in awe of it.

The best part of the speech came when he mentioned the car he now drives. I had no idea my dad was such a car enthusiast because he readily admits that he bought his last car based solely on color. And, Thursday night, he told everyone just so. He said that he marched onto a lot and told them that he was looking for a new car based on it's shape and color. He left with a bright yellow Mazda 6, which I can see from the freeway when I drive by his work. It's assurance that he's where he says he is. I always just figured that he didn't know anything about cars. But, turns out he knows quite a bit. Just in his old age, he doesn't care much above shape and color.

I stood up and gave a great evalution that, of course, led to evaluator of the night. Oh yeah! Five for five, baby.

Happy Father's Day

Father's Day falls at the end of a very hectic eight week period during the year. It all begins with Josh's birthday on April 25, followed shortly by my birthday on May 1, Mother's Day the second Sunday of May, Wade's birthday on May 20, and our Anniversary on June 15. Clearly, we didn't plan this all out very well, did we?

And so Father's Day sorta gets the short end of the stick every year. I have a hard enough time trying to find a good present for Wade's birthday and so usually by Father's Day, it's a card. But this year, I decided to combine our anniversary gift and Father's Day gift by splurging on a gas grill.

I have spent the last seven years looking out the window at neighbors who have been barbequing on nice grills. A few years ago, I got a small charcoal grill that was more a hassle than it was worth. It took forever for the coals to heat up and even longer to cook on. So we rarely brought it out. It was only $8 at Wal-mart so it wasn't a huge financial investment. But every year, my cooking magazines (yes, I have a subscription to a few. I'll give you a moment to pick your jaws up off the floor....okay, are you back?) spend all their summer issues talking about the benefits of grilling. And I was jealous.

So this year, I got the quintessential Father's Day gift, coupled with a great anniversary gift, for Wade. I had to pack the kids up and drive into Salt Lake to pick it up on Monday. Then I had to load it up in the back of the car and drive it home, but I had to take the legs off to fit the kids back in (though the thought to leave them behind did momentarily cross my mind. Kidding. Maybe.)

And it's been great. I've used it twice already this week.

But all kidding aside, Wade's a great father. Especially on Sundays. Because my standard day consists of grumbling out of bed, getting ready, stumbling to church, wriggling through three hours of meetings, stumbling back home, grabbing the first thing I can find to eat and climbing back into bed. Even on Father's Day. And Wade doesn't ever complain. He entertains the kids while I get my (very necessary for my function for the rest of the week) nap. He feeds Aunika every morning while I exercise. He doesn't complain about my twice monthly 5ks. And he does this all while working 40+ hours a week, going to school two nights a week, finishing the basement and being scoutmaster.

He's much more patient than I am with Josh and can get the baby to laugh more than I can. Which is hardly fair. He always dispenses great advice and is still one of the smartest people I know. It's what attracted me to him in the first place. Sometimes, I wonder if Wade realizes how much I love him and appreciate all that he does. We kid around a lot, but he's my whole life and I'm not sure where I'd be without him.

A note about my own father: He and Wade are very similar. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing, but in this case is a great thing. I feel very fortunate that I've gotten to know my father a lot better in the last few months by participating in Toastmasters with him. It's been a great experience. He was (and still is) a great father. When Aunika was two weeks old, I had to take Josh into InstaCare for an ear infection. I didn't want to take Aunika with me because it was right during RSV season and I was afraid of what she'd be exposed to at the InstaCare. I was suppose to meet my mom at her house later on and so I drove in, thinking she'd be there. When I couldn't get a hold of her or my mother-in-law, I called my dad to see if he knew where my mom was. He dropped everything at work and came home so he could watch Aunika while I took Josh in. What a dad!

Happy Father's Day!

Milestones

Every parent compares their child to others around them that are the same age. Deep inside, they want the kid that's rolling over the soonest, or crawling early, or walking or talking or counting to ten or doing algebra. Rarely, do you actually have that child, because no matter how early your kid is doing integrals in his head, someone else's kid's been doing it for a while now.

But, for every parent that has the uber child that blows the milestone timeline out of the water, there is a parent out there who's child is behind. Not so behind as to be worried, but enough behind that people start to wonder.

Meet Aunika. Aunika is the sweetest, best natured baby in the world. She started sleeping through the night at 9 weeks. And not just from 11 pm to 6 am, but from 8 pm to 8 am. She doesn't really ever cry unless she's hungry or her diaper's full or Josh is being particularly annoying--er, loving--towards her. You can wake her up in the middle of her nap and she'll just give you a big smile. She eats every three hours during the day, so it's easy to plan your schedule. In two words, she's adorably content.

Content is nice. But, as we've come to find out, does not lend itself to much motivation to do things other nearly-seven month olds are doing. Like sitting up or rolling over. She's just so...content to lay there. Why do anything else?

"Toy, what toy? I'll just sit here and watch the grass grow. Or the paint dry. Whatever."

So this week, she's finally starting to roll from her back to her belly. Which is a big milestone. When you're like four months old. And she's actually kind of liking it. A few months back, she tried it a couple of times, but found she didn't like it so much and rolled back., content to just stare at the ceiling. But now, we'll find her on her belly just looking around. Until she gets tired. And then she looks like this:

Because, see, she's forgotten how to roll on to her back and so she'll just plaster her nose to the carpet (see section on content) and stay like that until you check on her and rush to her aid because you fear she's suffocating herself to death. After that, you put her in her highchair, and this is what happens:

Don't even get me started on her little round bum and her inability to sit up by herself, though according to the internet isn't that big of a deal at seven months. But still, it'd help, since she has grown out of her carseat-meaning her head sticks out one end and her feet the other and I can't take her anywhere because she's not sitting up on her own. People are starting to comment, like "maybe it's time to give up the carseat." Meaning, isn't your 1 year old a little old to still be carted around like that?

Funny story. I'm at Wal-mart the other day and this sweet looking couple, probably in their 80's, gets in line behind us at the (very slow) checkout lane. They start talking to Aunika:

"Oh, look how sweet he is. Isn't he the cutest baby? Oh, he's so cute. Look at all those cute smiles he's giving us."

The guy turns to me and asks:

"How old is he?"

I thought for a few seconds and replied: "He's six months." I even had a name picked out should they ask. Curtis. Never mind that "Curtis" was wearing a green shirt with flowers on it and poofy sleeves or that a purple blanket was tucked under "his" legs. The blue carseat and bald head seem to confuse a lot of people. And when you're 80...it doesn't matter if you get mixed up on a few genders here and there.

Silly girl. But isn't she a cutie?

Eight Years Down, Infinity to Go

Today marks our eight year anniversary. Wow! It's only been eight years? I mean...uh...it's already been eight years?

I've made no secret of what I want for our anniversary, and Wade did not disappoint. This morning, I awoke at 5:15 (yes, it does exist) to leave for the pool and my first day of simultaneous training for both a triathlon and a half marathon set for August. Our plan was to swim at the outside pool in Stansbury, but since we've somehow been beamed to Portland, Oregon, the weather has prevented us from doing so and now we're reduced to swimming at the indoor pool during the hours of their choosing coinciding with husband work schedules and kids, which run 5:30 am to 7:00 am.

So after I returned, Wade said that he was giving me my present but that I had to find it. It was hidden somewhere inside the house. My spirits were dashed for a bit, because, really, how do you hide a road bike inside the house? So I looked under the bed.

"Well, it's not going to fit there." Wade replied. "It's in the basement."

I was momentarily mystified because the basement is bare. But then I remembered our little food storage alcove where all the doors are being stored. And I remembered on Saturday thinking that the doors looked different from how they were being stored from before but not really investigating. Good thing, because hidden behind them was my road bike.

YAY!

Apparently, it had been sitting there for the past three weeks and each time I left in the morning to go biking on Wade's brother's old mountain bike that weighs about as much as I do, Wade would lay in bed and laugh and laugh and laugh because just down the stairs was a brand new road bike.

I got him a great gift too that I'll have to talk about later because he hasn't received it yet. It was a humdinger to fit in the car, plus the two kids, but I managed.

Anyways, eight years. Which is, incidently, quite close to an entire decade. It's funny how fast time goes. And when I look back at all the stuff we've done, I'm amazed. We've run a marathon together, both finished school, gone on a cruise, built a house. Had two kids. Crazy. I still feel like I'm only 21 and this can't possibly be my life, but I guess I'm growing up.

We survived the seven year itch, which wasn't all that itchy, and a year of incredible stress. We're older, wiser, and funnier looking than we were eight years ago, but we still love each other. We even got to eat dinner together twice this last week.

It's hard to mesh together because we're both always right, but somehow it works. We have our outside interests and that helps keep us grounded.

We're happy and still in love and that's all that matters eight years down the road.

Correction

Wade pointed out a discrepency in my description of his backpacking trip.

When I mentioned that rain was dripping on to sleeping scouts, I was apparently mistaken. There were, in fact, no sleeping scouts.

I'm sorry for this error in my reporting. I was under the impression that since it was between 1 am and 4 am, that there were people sleeping, but Wade corrected me on this misassumption.

If Wade had a Blog

Wade went backpacking to Lake Blanch, a three mile hike, this weekend and had a GREAT time. If he had a blog, he'd tell you all about it. But since he doesn't, I've taken it upon myself to give a shortened version of the events as they were told to me:

4:25: Wade rushes in from work, changes clothes, grabs last minute things and stuffs it all into MY car to meet the scouts at the church at 4:30.

Drives to trailhead. Parks car. Hikes.

Hikes some more.

Sun goes down.

Hikes more.

A few scouts lag behind, so Wade stays with them, convincing them that it would indeed be faster and easier to just keep walking to the top.

Clouds look less threatening in the dark.

"Less-threatening looking"clouds open up and pour down. Wade finally convinces lagging scouts to walk faster. In the dark. In the rain.

Wade arrives at camp, where everyone else has taken shelter in the tents of another scout troop. Perched precariously on top of the rocks, exposed to the elements that have yet to bestow themselves upon this tiny little troop.

In the dark, Wade and his crew set up camp in the same place. In the rain.

Wade ditches efforts to set up his own tent after getting all the scouts settled and dives into the tent of the other leader. Soaking wet.

Everyone decides to forgo dinner and go to bed instead.

Wind hurls through the valley that the troop is nestled in. Lightning illuminates the sky. Thunder shakes the mountainside. Rain drips on to the faces (and belongings) of sleeping scouts.

Scout wakes Wade up crying because, upon stepping outside to pee, found himself soaking wet and unable to get warm again. It's only 1 am.

Rain finally stops at 4 am.

Everyone wakes up when daylight hits and lays things out on rocks to dry when the sun breaks through the clouds. Breakfast (and dinner) is made and consumed. Still waiting for sun to come out.

Rain starts.

Gear is thrown into backpacks and troop hightails it out. Rain stops about halfway down the trail. Scouts hit bottom of trail.

Troop gets into cars and prepares to head home.

Major crash involving a Fedex truck and live ammunition causes the freeway--the very one that seven scouts and two leaders are driving on--to close in both directions, rendering Tooele County all but inaccessible except through Utah County and an unpaved mountain pass that may or may not be passable since it has rained here every day for the past 7 days. Of course, all this information would have been useful before Wade and his wet, cold, hungry, and tired scouts passed the very last possible turnaround.

UDOT finally gets somebody with brains to show up and devise a plan to move a bazillion people off a freeway that is closed.

In a twist of fate, Wade finally gets off the freeway and goes to make the turn to head back towards Salt Lake and on to Utah County just as a scout sees that they are finally opening back up the freeway. So Wade pulls a U-turn and becomes one of the first cars to make it through on the newly opened freeway.

Wade arrives home at 4:00, roughly 5 hours after leaving the trailhead.

All By Myself

As wife of the scoutmaster, I spend approximately one Friday night-Saturday day a month alone. This was the case this weekend. Usually, I'll take the kids up to my mom's and spend the night there, but because of Fathers and Sons last weekend and a scheduled 5k I ran last Saturday, I spent last weekend at my parents so they could watch the baby while I ran. And so this weekend I opted to stay home.

After drugging Josh so he'd fall asleep at 5:30...uh, I mean...

Kidding. I didn't drug him. But he really did fall asleep at 5:30. It was like a little mini vacation for me. I thought for sure he'd wake up at 8:30 with a second wind, but he didn't. And so I spent the evening watching all the shows on TiVo that aren't scary or creepy. I can't watch 48 Hours Mystery or most Datelines when Wade isn't home because I'm a wuss. So, after catching up on So You Think You Can Dance and a few sitcoms, I had effectively run through my TiVo.

And then I spent the next few hours(!) waching Whose Line is it Anyway on Youtube. I had forgotten how much I LOVED this show. It was set up as an improv comedy show with four comedians. They'd do little sketches that always bordered on strange and maybe a little inappropriate, but the result was almost always hilarious. I'm not sure why it went off the air because I'd still be a faithful watcher if it was still on. I love stand up and improv comedy. I'd put a clip up here, but I don't want to be responsible for what some may deem as "inappropriate content" though it was aired on ABC, and so if you're interested in seeing clips, you'll have to go to Youtube yourself. So ha.

I forced myself to turn it off at about 11 pm and read for 15 minutes before crashing. I was actually going to bed earlier than I have for almost 2 months, despite my 6:30 am running dates--I'm definitely a night person. I didn't wake up until I heard the baby wiggling around in her bed at about 8. Josh didn't wake up until 8:30.

All in all, it was a good night and gearing up to be a pretty good day, if you're partial to Portland, Oregon and it's weather. Which, incidently, is making me feel a little waterlogged.

Locked Out

This afternoon found me fruitlessly trying to open my locked doors to the house. As it so happens, I went out one door, locking it behind me, while Josh went out another door, locking it behind him, my keys sitting innocently on the piano. My neighbor and I employed a variety of techniques to break in to my house, to no avail. Credit cards, bobby pins, butter knives. I even made the comment that if, for some reason, the police had reason to come to my home and check out my doors for forced entry, they'd be surprised. And it could throw them off the whole search for my kidnapper/killer/alien abductor.

Uh...perhaps I've been watching too many 48 Hours Mysteries again.

After the construction workers were done with the basement, we secured all the windows so they're near impossible to get in through, so that option went--literally--out the window. There was not a single cracked window or anything to gain access through. It looked like I was stuck.

I couldn't get a hold of Wade because he was in an important meeting. And Aunika was getting hungry so I had to secure a bottle and some formula for her.

After several phone calls using the neighbors phone, I did manage to find both a bottle and some formula. So the baby didn't starve. Because she sure looks like she's about to, doesn't she? And a diaper, because hers was pretty soggy around the edges. And then my kind neighbor allowed Aunika to sleep in a playpen in her living room for most of the afternoon.

Josh went off to play with his buddy next door and I had several offers of people opening their homes to me. But I felt kind of weird. Hanging out for hours on end in someone's house while they're trying to get stuff done. So I pulled weeds from the lawn. I've been meaning to do it, but I've always found something better to do. Like laundry. Or mopping. Or vacuuming. But now, in the absence of anything else to do, I found the time to pull the weeds from the lawn. I even got carried away and started attacking the next door neighbors weeds--until their rose bush started fighting back. Then I figured I wasn't getting paid enough to continue.

And then it rained. So the lawn didn't get mowed and the rest of the weeds didn't get pulled. And I ended up at the neighbor's house anyways. Waiting until Wade got home from work.

I didn't eat lunch and I was pretty hungry and I'm sure someone would've fed me but I felt dumb asking "hey, can I eat your food too?" I'm definitely in no risk of starving to death in five hours. So I kept my mouth shut.

My neighbor's husband came home from work, walked across the street to my house, and with one fell swoop, managed to break into my home. That's reassuring, isn't it? I could've used him about 5 hours earlier, but at least I was in.

A Budding Picasso

Josh has really started mastering his drawing skills. Here are a few examples:


This is Josh smiling.



This is Josh with Baby Jesus.

This is Josh with Mommy. Can you see where he got his good looks from?

This is Mommy and Daddy. Hmm.

This is a lovely portrait of our family. There's definitely a family resemblence going on.

This is an even more evolved portrait of our family. At least we have hair (well, most of us anyways) in this one. From left to right, it's Josh, Dad, Mom, and Aunika. Even Aunika, who has no hair in real life, has wisps of hair in this picture. Mom, however, is bald. We're standing on the sidewalk out by the front lawn.

What do you think? Should I enroll him in art classes?

Weekend in Review

• I put down our deposit for our carpet for the basement. The basement is becoming (albeit, slowly) so much cooler than the top floor. We may rent out the top floor and move into the basement. Our new goal is to have it finished by the start of football season.
• I ran a 5k on Saturday morning. The start time was 7 am and Wade was gone to Fathers and Sons with Josh. So I spent the night at my mom's so she could watch Aunika. I had to leave her house at 5:45 to make it to the race at 6:30 to warm-up. By the time the race started, I had been up for nearly 2 hours already. I'm not really a morning person, so this was a feat unto itself. I ran it pretty well, finishing in 29:22, my fastest time yet since the marathon in 2007 and under my goal of 30 minutes.
• Saturday afternoon, we finally made it to Lagoon. I LOVE rollercoasters and this was my Mother's Day present. We quickly found out that (a) Lagoon is the hotspot for a subculture of androgonous teenagers, and while Disneyland may be the happiest place on Earth, Lagoon may take the prize for being the scuzziest place on Earth (b) said teenagers looked (well, glared) at us like we were at least 35 and "totally clueless", infringing on their dour and apathetic times at Lagoon and (c) we might actually be bordering on too old. We got there at roughly 3:30 and by 10:00, we were done. In fact, I had to ride the last two rides by myself because Wade couldn't even make himself go on another rollercoaster. It was the best present though. A few hours without the kids, riding rollercoasters. We picked the kids up from Wade's parent's house, and after I had to drive home because Wade was too motion sick to drive, we put the (sleeping) kids into their beds, climbed into ours and were out roughly three minutes after walking through the door. There was a time when I could spend all day at Lagoon and turn around and go out all evening with friends. In fact, I could spend all day at Lagoon, go out all evening with friends and then turn around and do it all again the next day on a bounceback special. Ah...those were the days.
• Church was pretty ho-hum until the bishop, upon announcing his wife as the new 2nd counselor in the relief society, mock opposed her in sacrament meeting. Classic. I'm not sure that the member of the Stake Presidency sitting behind thought it was nearly as funny as the rest of us did. If you can't have a little fun, than it's not worth going to church, is it?

THAT Kid

My mom has a friend that's been a kindergarten teacher for close to 40 years. She said that the hardest part about each new kindergarten class is that you have to teach them not to run home when something happens that they don't like, or when they're scared, or hurt, or bored, or have to use the bathroom. I use to laugh when she'd tell me this because I could just imagine these little five year olds sprinting through the hole in the chainlink fence that surrounds the elementary school as soon as the teacher's back was turned.

Now I don't have to imagine it, I can experience it, because I have sired THAT kid. The one that runs home when something happens he doesn't like, or he's scared, or he has to use the bathroom. Or just because.

Allow me to explain.

Josh has made good friends with two little boys that live next door. One is three and the other one is six. While he's closer in age to the three year old, his playing level is more on line with the six year old. Which is good, because it's teaching Josh how to play at a more mature level.

But they're over here A LOT. Last summer, when I was pregnant and all I wanted to do was sleep and not entertain other people's kids, I was a little bitter about Joshie's friend (a different one that has since moved) that seemed to be over a lot. This year though, now that I'm not so tired, I realize that having someone here to entertain Josh is a blessing. But, I can sometimes get tired of the noise. And I think Josh's friend wants to play over at his house at times. And the neighbor feels kind of bad that they spend so much time over here. So I try to encourage Josh to go over there. But every time they go over there, something scares Josh or something happens he doesn't like and so they all come running back over.

Now, those who have kids understand that when you add a third person to the mix, it messes up the equilibrium. It's hard to incorporate the third person into any game you're playing. And so essentially, I also have the neighbor's three year old that comes over and plays with Josh's toys. By himself. Which is okay. Because he's quite good at playing by himself. When he gets hungry, he escapes to the backyard, climbs over the fence, grabs food from his house, climbs back over and lets himself back in through the back door. And sits on my couch to eat it. We will have to work on that...

My only complaint, besides that Josh needs to learn to play at other people's homes, is that I sometimes don't get a shower in before they come over to play. And I certainly don't feel comfortable showering with them all hanging around. Even if I do lock the door, because what if there's an accident, or the mom shows up and thinks I'm neglecting her children (hmmm...which begs another question that I'll leave unasked and unanswered) and so there have been times that I've had to send them home for the sole purpose of me having to shower because I could no longer stand the smell of my five mile run from 6:30 that morning.

I'm reminded of a time at church when a little five year old took off for home because he couldn't find his mom. He had made it across the busy highway and was about 1/2 mile down the road when someone finally found him.

Yeah, that will be my kid.

Three for Three and 75 Cents Richer

I gave my third speech this evening in Toastmasters. I'm still a little (read: horrifically) nervous each time I stand up to give a speech, though I seem to be able to calm down during it. Part of the problem is that I'm clearly the youngest one there. I'm scared that what I'm trying to say won't come across nearly as packaged as it is in my head. Or I'll sound stupid. Or I'll sound like a young idiot. You know, the usual fare. Tonight, my feet were awfully sweaty in my kick-butt red patent leather high heels (don't ask) and I was sure I was going to careen right into the world's smartest cab driver, Ross, who incidently commented on my kick-butt red patent leather high heels, when I walked in earlier.

Tonight, my speech was titled Live, Laugh, Love; What I've Learned in the Last 10 Years. Coincidently, today marks 10 years since I graduated from high school. 10 years! I thought I was only 21 years old.

I decided to do a mock graduation speech. I addressed everyone as though we were in an auditorium and made it an inspirational, sappy speech. Part of my intent was to do a speech that didn't rely a lot on humor, since that's what I tend to fall back on when I'm nervous. It's good to be well-rounded and not feel the need to make jokes during EVERY speech. I think I accomplished that goal pretty well.

I doned my graduation cap that I dug out of the very bottom box in the closet. I was surprised I still had it. My speech mostly droned on about lessons I've learned in the last 10 years. Basically, look to your elders, live life for yourself, find a passion, and find someone to love.

To top off the night, in the prize basket was a $1 bill I picked after winning speaker of the night. So after anteing up my money for my grammar infractions (25 cents a pop) I became 75 cents richer for showing up at Toastmaster's this evening. Well, if you minus the babysitter, I'm actually $19.25 in the hole. But who's counting?

The best compliment came at the end of the evening when Brian, an amazing speaker who was sitting next to me tonight, told me how much he enjoys my writing style. It meant a lot because he's a pretty accomplished writer/speaker himself. Funny story--a few weeks ago, I gave a speech about remembering names. Tonight, Brian, who is probably in his early 60's, sent me a note like we were in class, asking me the name of the lady across the way from us. I, of course, knew, so I wrote it down and sent it sailing back his way. Ah...brings back good memories from high school. You know, minus the guy older than my father sending me notes.

My dad, who has never commented on any of my speeches before tonight, made an awkward attempt at critiquing this particular one in the parking lot. He made some good points, even if the delivery was a little off. A "good job" would be nice though.

I've been toying around with the idea of perhaps entering the fall speech contest in the humorous category. I guess the worst thing that could happen is that I don't make it past the club level. For the speech contest, three judges determine who should win for the club level. Then you go to the district level and then to a big regional conference. I'm not sure where you go from there. One can hope somewhere neat, but most likely Kansas. But, that's not until November, so I still have time to think about it. I think I could pull some pretty funny things out of my sleeves. What do you think?

Caught!

Josh has recently taken a liking to the mailbox. He thinks it's a magic box that transports letters to people he loves. So yesterday, he wrote a lot of "letters", Folded them up like they were in envelopes, "addressed" them to people, and put them all outside in the mailbox to be sent out.

I didn't know that he was actually putting them in the mailbox when he mentioned that he was mailing things off. I just thought he was putting them in a pretend mailbox or something. I probably wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying in the first place.

(Mommy, I'm making pipe bombs.)
(Okay dear. Have fun.)

This morning, as I was waiting for my running buddy to show up, I noticed that the mailbox flag was up, but I didn't think much about it. My running buddy opened the mailbox to put her keys in and remarked that there was sure a lot of mail going out. I peeked inside and Josh had indeed put in all his "letters".

After our (awesome) run, I took the "letters" out of the mailbox and put them on top of the fridge. You know, federal law and such being as it is.

Later on, Josh and I are outside and Josh comes over to asks if the mailman has come yet.

"Nope." I said, and then quickly remembered that I had taken the "letters" inside. Shoot.

"Are the letters in there?" he innocently asked.

"No. Someone came and took them early this morning." I responded, mentally patting myself on the back for my quick thinking.

"No they didn't mommy. Mommy took them and put them on top of the fridge." Josh said as he turned on his heel, walked inside, climbed on to the counters and got the "letters" off the top of the fridge and brought them back outside.

Busted. Yes, my four year old did set me up to lie and then busted me on it. Smart kid.