Feeling Fit and Fabulous

Like I've mentioned before, I'm training for a half-marathon in August. This is the perfect long distance because it doesn't require the in-depth training that a full marathon requires, but it's no walk in the park either. If you're looking for a challenge, I'd suggest doing one.

I've been researching training plans for a while and had chosen a recommended one for the full marathon that left me feeling pretty burned out. Burned out enough that it was a full year before I could even think about running again and by that time I was 8 months pregnant. And then there was the one I attempted to try when I ran a half marathon a week after gaining seven pounds on a cruise. This one didn't take into account an ear infection, bronchitis, or a week in Mexico in January. So I didn't do so well. I started the same routine up when I started training for a half in May of this year, but luckily, I was saved by a wedding in Vegas with Elvis.

And so, for this half, I went back to the drawing board. I looked up different plans and found one that fit perfect. It's three days a week of running (instead of the usual 5-6 days) and included three days of cross-training (swimming or biking). This was ideal because I also wanted to stage my return to the Stansbury Days Triathlon that will be held roughly around the same time.

I coerced--er, convinced--two other friends to join me in both quests and we've spent the last two months furiously working out almost an hour a day six days a week. Sometimes a little more. Sometimes a little less. I devised a little calendar and--more, or less--we've stayed true to it. One friend has only missed two days the entire time. I've missed a few more though. I tend to oversleep. And I get really nervous about running long runs and then I make myself sick so I can't run. And I'm easily persuaded to not go.

So, although the schedule says that today was our second double digit run--10 miles--of the training plan, it was my first. When I was training for the marathon, I adopted a 25 minute run/5 minute walk plan. This was great for the first 30 minutes of every workout, but I struggled starting up running again after walking and by the time the marathon rolled around, I didn't do as well as I would've liked. I vowed this time that I was going to run as much of this race--13 miles--as I could possibly muster.

At the beginning of the training, I was sure I'd croak around 7 or 8 miles of straight running. I had never run that far without walking in my lifetime. However, as the training wore on, I've been able to train my body to do it.

This morning, at 5:30 am after a rough 4 hours of sleep, I started off on a 10 miler. I wasn't 100% confident that I was going to make it without walking, but I was willing to try. I was nauseous from thinking about it all night and I had to really fight that inner beast telling me to go back to bed.

But, man, am I glad I went out. It was incredible and--dare, I say--pleasant. Hard. But incredible. I felt great. We surpassed our time goal by over a minute (that's pretty good for a 10 mile run) and kept under pace for the entire run. We watched the sun rise up over the valley and I was reminded why I love it so much out here. We were the only ones out at such a crazy time (at least I didn't have to wear a headlamp like last week when we had to run at 5 am) and we even got honked at as we ran on the highway (as in "you guys are hot" not as in "move out of my way, idiots). Honestly, where else could you run on a highway?

After a 10 minute ice bath and a 30 minute catnap, I was good to go. My legs are a little sore, and right now--at 9 pm--I'm starting to feel my energy sagging. But overall, not too bad for the amount of energy I expended.

I thought for sure that I would be melting pounds off this summer and I've been pretty dismayed that the scale has been so unwilling to budge. But I feel better, and I'm getting there--lost 4 pounds just this week--and I do have to remind myself that I did just have a baby 8 months ago. My clothes fit better and my overall mood is much better since I've been working out. Though, I'm starting to feel the burn of working out so much and once the races are over, I'm going to scale back until our next big one. But, for the most part, this has best helped me cope with the two-child drama I was lamenting in yesterday's post.

Of course, it helps that I have two awesome buddies willing to embark on such crazy things with me and they both have four kids a piece. I have nothing to complain about.

Roller Coaster

It's been eight months (!) since Aunika was born. It's hard to believe that 2/3 of a year has gone by already.

And yet, I still feel like I'm on this roller coaster. I don't know how some people do it when their second child is fussy or needy, because most days I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water and Aunika is a dream baby. She hardly ever cries and fusses. She's happy and content to just roll around on the carpet or sit in her bouncy chair.

Every Sunday, I sit down and write out my to-do list for the week. I usually try to break up the tasks by day. Mondays are reserved for cleaning. Tuesdays, I go in to Salt Lake and see my mom. Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays are up in the air. Whatever needs to gets done.

Most weeks, I can do the bare minimum. Keep the house okay. Get food on the table. Pay the bills. Some weeks are better than others. When it was just Josh and me, it was a lot easier for whatever reason. When I was training for my marathon and running at 6 am every morning, I would come home and have the house picked up by 9. That was nice. Than I had the rest of the day to play. However, Josh was a lot smaller and his toys didn't extend to every available surface like they do now. He's like a little tornado that follows in my wake and destroys each room as I get it picked up.

The laundry situation is only getting worse. It seems to be a never ending parade of dirty clothes. I hate folding it and knowing that in less than a week's time, it's going to look just like this again. Same with cleaning the kitchen. I know that within two hours, it's going to look the same.

The solutions seem so simple. Clean as you go. Do laundry every day or every other day. But, it's always easier said than done. Today, I had great intentions. I was going to get up early, bike and then clean the house. I made it out on the bike, but Wade had to be to work early so I had to take the kids with me. That added 60 (!) pounds to my load. We went close to eight miles, a lot of it uphill, and by the time I made it home, I was beat. It wore me out for the rest of the day. I managed to pick up a little. Having the basement in a state of construction for the last year hasn't helped much either.

And so, to all those second time mothers out there, when does the roller coaster end and you feel normal again? Like you're not always strapped for time? A year? Two years? Never. I'm just so surprised at how much of a shock to my little system of doing things adding a second kid has been.

Life as Hardened Criminals

A few weeks ago, I made a reference to a past that Wade and I don't speak about very often--our lives as hardened criminals. Our most brazen crime was stealing gas from the 7-11.

Why haven't you seen our face splattered across the news? Because we're that good.

But, seriously, there's a story behind it. And a new fan (hi, Hillary) actually picked up the phone and called me to get it. Well, after she called Renae to see if she knew the story. I'm telling you, this blog thing is like a Grassroots campaign. I should run for Mayor or something.

So, anyways...

When I was pregnant with Josh, I would--on occasion--make Wade drive me into the 7-11 to get Slurpees. One night, before we had to pay at the pump and could fill up and then go into the store, we drove the 12 minutes to the 7-11 for Slurpees. We decided to fill up with gas before going into the convenience store.

Wade filled the tank and then pulled the car up to the parking spots in front of the store because the station was fairly busy. We headed inside and I got my Slurpee. Meanwhile, Wade wanted something different to drink and he was over at the Fountain Drink area. I remember there being a lot of people mulling around. All of a sudden I hear this fizzing sound and look over to where Wade is. Soda is squirting out of the machine and all over him and everyone around him. Somehow, the nozzle thing had broken off, landed in his cup and the machine wouldn't shut off.

There were two clerks on duty and one rushed to turn off the machine while the (new) one continued to (slowly) ring everyone up. Wade got a different drink and he came to the counter. We paid and headed home.

A month later, I insist on another Slurpee so we schlep back into town. It was late (I think it might have even been a Sunday too, but my memory on that particular detail is fuzzy...) and we were the only ones at the gas station. We walked in and started pouring our drinks. I remember seeing the clerk on duty look at us and then walk into the backroom. I figured he was pretty brave to leave us with an empty store (you know, with our checkered past and all).

We stood politely at the counter until he returned. He came out of the back room and to the register.

"Did you guys buy gas on July 23 at about 8:14 pm?"

Mind you, it was like August 23 by now.

"Um...I don't know." I replied. "Maybe."

"I think you did. I think you guys left without paying."

Both Wade and I were taken back. We would have never done that.

"Are you sure?" I asked

"Pretty sure." he replied.

I thought long and hard.

"Oh wait." I said. "That was the night that the spigot on the fountain machine broke. Come to think of it, I don't recall ever seeing a charge for 7-11 come through on the card."

Wade mulled it over. "Yeah, you're right. We ran in to get drinks and then got so flustered with the soda machine that we forgot to pay for the gas. We usually pay at the pump."

Then it got kind of awkward. "Do you want me to pay right now?" I asked, mainly because the silence was bordering on intolerable.

"Could you?" The clerk asked "There were five people who stole gas that night. The clerk working that night said you guys are regulars and we'd get you when you came in the next time."

I anted up the money and we paid for our new drinks and left.

Here's the weird part:
(a) We were driving a different car than the one that stole gas
(b) We would only be considered regulars if by regular they mean four times a year.
(c) The gas station is right next door to the police station. We could've been chased and arrested.
(d) He deliberately left us to go look at a picture of us--either one that was printed off or one that was on video. Whatever the media, he knew the EXACT date and time we stole gas. Creepy that there was a picture of us hanging around some backroom of 7-11 for that long. It reminds me of those shots they show on the news where they're trying to catch the robber.

If I wouldn't have been so taken back by the accusations being hurled at us, I would've asked how he knew it was us. But, since my mind was trying to grasp the idea that I STOLE gas, I didn't have the wherewithall to ask. So I guess I'll never know. I wonder if this is their method to catching all gas stealers. Because my guess would be that you wouldn't go back to the store you just stole gas from. But just a thought.

If a 7-11 clerk was smart enough to spot us a month later using some grainy shot from a security camera, than what chance did we have in the real world. And thus ended our crime spree.

Thoughts on My Mind

On occassion, I like to set aside my sarcastic and witty side and write down things I've been thinking about. It can be a little shocking to think that I might have thoughts that aren't all superficial; that I might actually have some thoughts deep (deep, deep) down that sometimes itch to come out. But, make no mistake, if I had any good stories that would guarantee a laugh, I'd go that route instead. Because, frankly, now that my fan base has increased to double digits, I'm a little hesitant to write what I really think, less I should lose a fan or two and drop back down to single number followers.

But, it's been slow in the funny department--well, in the funny department fit for blog-reading consumption, because I do have some great stories about Josh and neighbors and family members that I can't put on here. You'll just have to gain access to my secret blog. So, bear with me while I tell you what I really think.

I've been thinking a lot about religion and spirituality lately. Mostly because of the July 24th holiday. I had ancestors that crossed the plains in covered wagons. I have some that didn't make it. I've seen sacrifices that my own family members have given up for their--my--faith. My grandfather was called to serve a 3 year mission six weeks after my grandma gave birth to twins. There was no special fund to support his family of four (my dad was first born) while he was away. However, both of my grandparents had the faith to send him out into the mission field. 12 years later, he was shot and killed in the line of duty, and missed out on all of his five kids' adult milestones--missions, marriages, children.

I keep my spirituality, mostly, to myself. I think it's one of those things that doesn't need to be paraded around for all to see. Whether or not I'm abiding by the tenets of my faith is nobody's business but my own. I'm respectful of other's beliefs and think it's important to learn what I can of other religions. I've been to several meetings of other faiths. When we were kids, we'd often go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve with a friend of my mom's. When we were in Europe, we caught mass at a cathedral in Paris, mostly because when would we ever have the chance to do it again. I love the Baptist gospel music because it's so full of joy and love and has a beat. However, none of these experiences has caused me to stray from my religion.

So I get annoyed when people throw their--my own--religion back at me. I hate feeling not good enough to be in someone's company because I'm not perfect. I don't like feeling like I'm the only one that feels "this" way. That I'm the only mom that had to threaten their four year old within an inch of his life to get to church--I'm not, am I?--and knowing that a lot of the problem is that he can sense that I'm not all that excited to be there either. And I especially hate that I devote three hours a week to something that I dread. (Yeah, I just said it. Judge me.)

In all due respect, I've tried to be positive about going to church for Josh's benefit. I don't suggest that we stay home. I don't whine (very much) about getting up and getting ready. I don't sabotage the alarm clock. But, still, it's a trial. It's not that I don't have a testimony of my faith or that I don't think it's important to devote time to it. It's that a lot of the reason is because I feel so...inadequate. Like I'm not doing enough. But when I look at the state of my yard and my house and my life, I can't imagine taking on anything new (except for I did--say hello to the new Scout Committee Secretary (yeah, I didn't know they had one either)) and I wonder how anyone gets anything done. It feels like I'm in a constant state of basic maintenance. The problem being that I don't see where it will change and so it's hard to keep plugging along.

This is not a bashing of the church and it's teachings, by any means. It's just that sometimes I wonder if we've interpreted things 100% right. If we're meant to feel this way every week. Because, I can see why people stop going to church. If you wanted church to be a haven where you learn about Jesus and the Gospel and about being a good person, but yet leave every week feeling inadequate and weak, it's hard to want to go every week.

Sometimes I wonder if God is sitting "up there" and shaking his head and saying "no, no. Not like that. It's not suppose to be like that. Oiy." I would like to think that if I try my hardest, but fall a little--or a lot--short, He's going to hug me and invite me in anyways and say "you know, you shouldn't have stressed so much about it."

Wednesday's Wackies

• Aunika weighed in at 18.7 pounds and 28 inches (though I'm pretty sure it was 29 because, again, the nurse didn't stretch her leg all the way out) at the doc's last week. This puts her above the 97th percentile for height and 90th for weight. The doc said she was a "lightweight for her height". Yeah, you try lugging her around and we'll see if you still think she's a lightweight.
• I would have a lot of interesting blog posts if I had a camera phone. Wade points out that a lot of people would be mad at me though, so maybe it's for the best I don't. But the other day at Wal-mart in the fish tank department, there were two aquariums with the sign "sorry, we're sick." When I chuckled and looked over at the attendant, I noticed he was taking new fish out of...cardboard boxes. I mean, they were in plastic baggies full of water, but still. Now, I'm just as much an animal lover as the next person, but I'm pretty sure that Wal-mart is not known for their expensive fish, so if a few of them get "flushed" down the toilet, I'm sure it's not going to sink the company. But the cardboard box fish, I'm just not so sure about that one. A picture of this would have been great.
• Speaking of fish, we've been doing our swim training in the lake this last week. If you've been following my facebook statuses, you know that this has not been without a lot of stress on my part. See, I grew up in West Valley--inner city Salt Lake. There were no lakes by me. I didn't grow up swimming in lakes. I'm a little creeped out by what is in a lake. The first time I really swam in a lake was two years ago when I did the same triathlon. We swam in it twice beforehand. In any case, I plan on writing an expose of sorts on August 16. Mostly because I can't bring myself to research my hypothesises before the race because I'm fairly certain if I knew all that I think I might know on August 16, I won't be getting in August 15. Hopefully, I will have forgotten it all by the time next August rolls around.
• Speaking of triathlons, I staged a "mock" triathlon for my two training buddies and me last Saturday. It was determined that biking is my event. Not that I'm good, just less mediocre than the other two events. But, I do like biking and I could see myself doing some bike races in the future.
• It's been a slow last couple of weeks. Nothing good to report. Though I do have a 10k this Friday (another holiday...) and I'm hoping not to pee my pants this time. Since it's down the parade route in Salt Lake and the sheer numbers of people THERE would make Tooele's debacle seem like a walk through the grocery store at 3 am. If all fails, at least it will make another good story.

KSL Comment Boards

Disclaimers
If you are a frequent contributor to the KSL comment boards, then I don't mean "you" when I say "all the idiots on the boards".

Also, I'm aware of all grammar and spelling infractions. I made them on purpose for the sake of the post. If you aren't sure why there are so many spelling/grammar errors in my post, you should spend some time reading the KSL comment boards. www.ksl.com

It's not that I don't think their should be a place for public comment on noteworthy news items. I just think that maybe you should have to pass a IQ test to post something. Maybe a writing sample too.

Lets take this last weekend for example. 2 cars are involved in a crash at 1 am that results in the death of 6 people. All 6 people killed was in one car and the soul survivor was a four year old who was under the passenger dashbored since the car technically only fit five people. Who nows wear the 6th person was sitting.

One of the first comments was "what were they doing out at 1 am?" Like it would be any less traumatic if they were out at 11 am. Does it really matter? Idiots.

My next complaint is that people seem to have a way of turning the blame back to (a) the LDS church and (b) President Bush (c) the Republicans. Doesn't matter what the article is about; People not watering there yards: oh, must be because there "bishops" told them not to. House burns down: Oh, must be because President Bush was a dork. Hello? Maybe bad things happen to good people. Maybe people make bad choices. Maybe it has nothing to do with religion or politics. Besides, President Bush has been out of office hear for a while. How much more can really be his fault?

Up next on the complaint list: Trollers. These are the people that have nothing better to do than surf the KSL comment boreds and post irrelevant and stupid stuff usually blaming the LDS church or President Bush or the Republicans. After spending some time on their (researching for this post, of course) I can tell you how hard it is to navigate the boreds. It's not an user friendly site.

Next: The amount of proofreading that is NOT done before someone pushes "publish". If this is your one chance to put in your too cents, wouldn't you want to make sure your spelling and grammar were correct? If your anything like me, someone's argument is instantly invalidated in your mind because they started out a sentence with: Weather or not you think that its okay...
or
I'm board with what everyone has been saying...
These are not sixth graders writing mock letters to there congressmen. These are (presumably) grown adults who feel passionate enough about something to actually post a response to a article.

Their have been times wear I've been tempted to post something. But seeing as I know the difference between There and Their, plus your and you're, I'm afraid I'd be talking over there heads.

Lets Be Realistic

The other weekend, my brother-in-law accused me of being a realist.

Well, actually, what he said was "you always know exactly what to say to make a situation all better" in a somewhat sarcastic tone of voice. We were both watching his barely 2 year old run off for the upteenth time and I casually mentioned that it doesn't get much better when they're three.

I mean, I was just saying. In case he was holding on to the belief that in 10 months time, everything would be right. I was just trying to save him the same heartache I felt when, shortly after Josh's third birthday, I realized that everyone who told me that three was better than two (thanks, mom!) were just mincing the experience so that I would have hope to continue on. Like I was going to eat Josh or something if I would've known ahead of time.

I guess, maybe I could work on my timing a little bit, but still, I was trying to be helpful. And who knows, maybe his kid will be the first three year old I have ever seen that is actually better behaved than they were at two. In that case, I was just giving him the worse case scenario. Anything different would be cause for celebration, right? Anyways...

So I interpreted it as him calling me out as a realist. Just telling it like it is. Or like I see it. Same dif.

Which I've never denied. I'm certainly not your rainbows and cotton candy kinda gal. I walk a very fine line between optimism and pessimism, and usually the more sickenly optimistic someone is around me, the more pessimistic and devil advocatey I become. I like to point out the "other" viewpoint, even if it's not one I agree with. Just to watch you squirm. Besides, what fun would it be if we all agreed on everything?

And so here's the thing: I know that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. I've seen it in my own life. I know there's a lot going to pot in my house, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and my world. I'm not going to hide behind some cloud of fluffy bunny rabbits and pretend it doesn't exist. I have an opinion and I'm not (usually) scared to share it.

Wade is. Afraid of me sharing my opinion. But that's for another time.

I want people to tell me how it's going to be instead of sugar coating it. I can handle the pain better if I'm prepared for it. So I guess, that's how I approach other people. Some want to hear it for what it is. Others want roses and puppy dogs. I'm happy to give you your roses and puppy dogs, but I might throw in some snakes and thorns so it doesn't all go to your head.

I may not be making my stamp on this world by curing cancer but I can write funny stories about mundane stuff that happens and hopefully bring a smile to at least one person's face and make my mark that way.

Which, I guess, it slightly better than just sitting around and bemoaning the current state of my house, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and my world.

It's just who I am.

Totally Random Tuesday

This was suppose to be Monday Mutterings, but the power was out all evening and by the time it came back on it was time for bed. So now, it's Totally Random Tuesday. Kind of like tuesday's school lunch menu.

• As mentioned before, the power went out yesterday from 5 pm to about 10:30 pm. All because, apparently, a bird flew into the substation. Of course, no one outside our little valley knew this because the shed exploding in Heber and causing the power to go out for a couple hundred people took precedence. While the shed exploding was a much cooler story than a bird, the news should still be unbiased and report everything going on. Grilled bird anyone?
• For some reason, we decided that we'd eat at Macey's grocery store since we couldn't use our stove. This would be a decision that would haunt me for half the night and most of my morning run.
• My training buddy yesterday relayed the following story: She was standing in front of the mirror grabbing the skin on her stomach when her son walked in to the room. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Just looking at my stomach." she replied. He then preceded to give her a lecture on how it's been over a year since she had her last baby and she needs to get back in shape. "Your friend up the street (we're assuming me because I'm the only one to have had a baby in the last long while) wasn't fat after she had her baby." While I was flattered that someone thinks I'm all skinny and what not, I was slightly concerned that (a) he even noticed (b) he cares that much and (c) he's EIGHT.
• We've been doing swimming lessons last week and this week. I use the word "lessons" loosely. I have to FORCE Josh into the pool for his lesson. He cries. He screams like a little girl. He runs away and I have to chase him around the side of the pool. Basically, he embarasses me. The first day, a mother leaned over and said, "Oh, they're all like this the first time in this class (it's the class above the Mom and Tot class)." "Um, this is his second year." I casually replied, while inwardly sighing. However, as soon as it's play time, he's all game to go into the pool and play. I have to drag him out when it's time to go home.
• Yesterday at the pool, while my swimming training buddy was swimming her laps and I was keeping an eye on all the kids, her three year old needed to use the bathroom. I carried him in and sat him on the toilet, where he preceded to pee on EVERYTHING. I've never seen pee shoot that far in my life. It was all over and by the time I remedied the situation, he was done. Good thing we were at the pool and not at a nice restaurant, or Dillards, or pretty much anywhere else.
• To save $30 and a trip to InstaCare, I let another UTI (I know, I know. More fluids. Yada, yada, yada.) go over the weekend. At least this time it wasn't as bad as the camping one. I called the doctor's office yesterday to see if they'd call in a prescription for me. Of course not. But I did convince them to let me just come in for a urine sample without paying. If it turned out to be something else, I promised I'd march back out to the front desk and pay my $20 and see the doctor. Lo and behold it was another UTI. Hey, I went to school for 8 years too, you know. And I have the internet. I could be a doctor. It's not so hard.
• I have a lot of stories involving pee.
• We finally got all our doors hung in the basement. At this rate we should be done by Christmas. (Kidding, Wade.) Actually, we're hoping to be done by football season.
• Speaking of football season, after eight years of marriage, we finally caved and got cable. Just for football season, since BYU has sold out to the masses at the BCS and are getting greedy. We thought about getting season tickets, but then the games become an all day event on Saturdays and with Wade in school, he can't really afford to lose his entire Saturdays to football. Besides, season tickets would only get us half the games. So then we'd have to find someone who has the game and crash at their place. Once you add in traveling, eating, and visiting (because you can't just show up for the game), you're spending all day Saturday there too. So cable was the easiest option. Besides, with our new basement, there's no other place we'd rather watch the games at. One might argue that it would be infinitely better to just give up football, but in a Hadlock family that is not a viable option, so cable it is.

Sunday Battles

I've sired my older brother. That's the only explanation I can come up with. Josh is my brother, Eric, reincarnated. Except for that Eric is still alive and so I'm not entirely sure what that means for reincarnation...but you get the gist.

In short, I have a child who has EXACTLY the same personality traits that my older brother had when he was a kid and would ruthlessly tease me. The difference being that I can't just go lock myself in my bedroom and cry into my pillow and let my parents deal with it. Because it's MY kid.

So there are a lot of daily battles. But one of the biggest battles we face is the weekly Sunday Battle. It doesn't matter if I tell Josh we're going to church on Saturday night or if I just bombard him and get him dressed half asleep on Sunday morning, the kid does not want to go.

And I can't blame him. It's three hours of sitting still and listening to things that are way over your head. I still feel the same way and I'm an adult. I can only imagine what it must be like to be four at church.

Sunday mornings, I wrestle him into clothes and we head off to church--usually 15 or 20 minutes late. We herd him into primary and then pick him up afterwards and head to the chapel. Everything (usually) is okay for the first little while, but then his attention span is shot. He's done and he wants to go home NOW.

We use to bring treats and activities, but it only made things worse. The treats were a disaster and he'd get too frustrated with the activities and throw them at the back of little old ladies' heads. So, he doesn't get activities. Which, I realize, is a problem, because then he turns on me.

Today's activity was to lick me. Yes. Lick. As in stick-out-your-tongue-and-run-it-down-my-arm-or-leg-or-face. It's DISGUSTING. I hate this more than the scratching and the biting and the kicking. It's slimey and drippy and just plain gross. I know what he's doing because it'd be something my brother would have done. How much can he bug me until I lose it? And apparently, when his tongue is involved, my threshold is fairly limited. So, I take him out to the foyer and force him to sit on my lap, where he then proceeds to flash everyone my underwear by lifting up my skirt--first, with his hands, and then, after his hands were restrained, with his teeth. Meanwhile, one of the friends we were sitting next to in the chapel was texting a play-by-play to her husband from the foyer, where she was sitting on the couch, watching this drama unfold.

Apparently, Josh's yells got so loud that Wade could still hear him from inside the chapel and so he brought me the baby and took Josh off my hands before I totally lost it. Which was pretty close, because I could feel my neck start to heat up and my teeth grinding.

Afterwards, when I was relaying the story to my mom, she laughed and said "I wonder what the people sitting behind you were thinking."

"Oh, they were thinking that Josh is an angel, because their three year old pulled the fire alarm."

Right in the middle of the meeting the fire alarm went off, and I saw the two parents behind us look at each other. The dad stood up, said some choice words, and ran out to the foyer. Meanwhile, the bishopric had run down the aisle and the speaker was speaking over the automated voice telling us to leave the building immediately because a problem had been detected in the building.

15 minutes later, the dad--still red-faced and embarassed--returned with his kid. 5 minutes after that, he left and took the kid home and made him sit in the living room until the rest of the family returned from church. I only know this because it's our neighbor.

So, yes, compared to that, Josh was actually pretty well-behaved. Next week, we're separating for the meeting. Wade and Josh are going to sit on one side of the chapel and "The Quiet One" and I are going to sit on the other side. Maybe all will be well then.

Random Thoughts

• One leg and the tops of both feet plus an armpit got sunburnt today at swimming lessons. I guess the spray-on sunblock is not as effective in the wind.
• Speaking of the wussy, pasty white skin that I was blessed with, I've passed on an even wussier, pastier skin tone to my darling girl. It's a CHORE to make sure that she doesn't burn. Because, in the ten minutes it took me to find a bandaid for Josh in the swimming pool office, she managed to get a little pinkish. Even though she wasn't in direct sunlight. Josh was blessed with a deeper skin tone than either of his parents (the mailman has a nice shade of skin, I've noticed. Kidding. Wade's dad has a nice tone. As does my dad. The mailman is actually a maillady.) and so I have gotten use to being not as diligent getting the sunblock on AS SOON AS WE WAKE UP as I have to be with little Aunika, lest she sit at a stoplight too long in the pathway of the dangerous sun on our way to the pool.
• We had our own little Fourth of July party at our house with just the four of us. It was nice--burnt bbq pork chops, 2 year old temper tantrum thrown by a 4 year old, bug bites, and lame fireworks that were no match for the illegals that were going off down the street, yet apparently too much for Josh to handle as he spent the entire time with his ears plugged and his head lowered. Still it was our little family and that's all that matters. And popsicles were involved and everything is just a little bit better when there's popsicles.
• Still thinking about the dream house. Rationalizing why we should live there and not here. You know the usual. It's really so not like us to be holding on to something so seemingly unattainable, but neither one of us can shake it. Driving home last night from visiting my new niece, Wade looked over and sighed saying "the house and it's windows just glinted at me" as we were admiring the gorgeous sunset. At least we didn't drop in to view the sunset from the deck. Or watch fireworks from it as I proposed Saturday night. Saturday, we took some friends up there to see it and Josh stole a flyer from the For Sale sign. Once home, he cut out the picture of the house and asked me if this is "the house we like." Yes, yes it is.
• In keeping with the house theme, we came to a realization Saturday night that made us both sad and ashamed. I won't say what it is, but we have A LOT of habits that need to be changed should we want to put our home on the market in the future. Sigh. Laziness is so much easier.
• I have a new niece, that my brother was hoping would be a new nephew since they've had three girls already, that was born yesterday morning. She weighed in at a whooping 10 pounds 1 ounce. She's adorable and doesn't look to have been born with the dominant head shape that my brother has passed on to the others. Time will tell though. In any case, there was no baby hunger that filled my soul when I looked down at her like there was when I was holding babies about this time after I had Josh (confession--because, it was another 3 years before I could talk myself into actually doing it again since the rational part of my brain was like ARE YOU KIDDING?). Yesterday, it was like "oh, here's sweet Emily. She's so cute. Oh, let me hold you. Because that's what new aunts do. Has enough time elapsed that it doesn't look like I'm just throwing this baby at the next available set of arms? Hmmm....here you go mom." Perhaps my attitude was slightly marred by church yesterday.
• Yesterday, at church, Josh had to be taken out of the chapel--twice--by me, in which I'm sure those witnessing think that I'm the worst mother on the planet and I'll soon be fielding visits from DCFS. Though, I did manage not to scream at him. But I wanted to. After dressing my battle wounds, we returned to the chapel, where 5 minutes later, Josh was escorted out by his father. Approximately six minutes later, a sobbing four year old ran down the aisle and climbed up on my lap. I knew something was amiss because (a) he wasn't wearing shoes and (b) Wade was not in close pursuit. I figured that Wade was sitting out in the hall composing himself before rejoining us--perhaps taking a much needed break. However, after an acceptable amount of time had passed and no sign of Wade, I realized that Wade didn't have a clue that Josh was sitting on my lap in the chapel. I would've gotten up to inform Wade that I, indeed, had Josh (I mean, the Hadlock's have all but taken over center stage of the meeting anyways. We were sitting on the second row) but I also had a sleeping baby laying out on the bench. And I thought, the moment I stand up is the moment she'll roll off the bench and then what nasty names will people call us behind our backs (if they aren't already)? Luckily, I didn't have to make the decision because Wade strolled down the aisle, plucked Josh off my lap and strode back up and out the chapel, not to be seen for the rest of the meeting. Afterwards, some friends sitting in the foyer commented that Wade had come running in from outside and asked if they'd seen Josh. Nope, they replied, and Wade took off down the hall. Apparently, Josh had run away from Wade while they were outside and managed to make it around the corner and back into the chapel before Wade saw him. Wade was frantically looking for him and was on his way to tell me that our four year old was lost when he noticed Josh perched on my lap. When we finally met up after the meeting, Wade informed me that he had succeeded in selling Josh (a feat since I've been trying for like 2 years now. Kidding. Maybe.), but the person only had $20. Sold. Of course, we felt bad afterwards because Josh did overhear his father say that he had been sold, so we told him we'd never do that. It was a j0ke. He just shrugged and contined home. Josh had to sit in his room for four minutes for every time he had to be taken out (four times) plus another 5 minutes for not getting ready in the morning when I (politely, and then, not so politely and then demanded) asked him to before he got to eat lunch. 45 minutes later, all was better. Except for the mandatory nap he had to take after lunch for running off. Wow. That could've been a post all to itself. Sorry. I guess not such random thoughts afterall.

Terminal Velocity

Another national holiday, another 5k.

As with humbling experience #1 and humbling experience #2, 2009's humbling experience #3 involved running. I'm sure this is God's subtle way of telling me to find a different hobby.

As a side note, to keep my legions of fans (now up to almost ten--a shout out to Renae, who joined us last week, and the IMC Nursery Nurses, who may only be forced to read because of my biggest fan, my sister-in-law, but who still laugh in all the right places) happy, I have to sometimes reveal things about myself that I would otherwise not care to admit to. Especially if it makes a good story.

So here goes.

Deep breath...

Hi. My name is Sandra. I'm 28 years old and today, I lost ALL bladder control while running. And not just running a neighborhood jaunt at 6:00 in the morning when all sane people are inside, still in bed, but rather during the annual 4th of July 5k that precedes the parade in which THOUSANDS of people have lined up to watch.

While there would be some redemption in saying that I peed my pants in the final .10 miles as I was battling it out for first place, there is definitely no glory in admitting that it was within the first quarter mile, while trying to maintain a seven minute pace on the downhill--far from the sub-six minute pace that the winners were running.

I can say, now from experience, that it is extremely uncomfortable to run roughly 2.85 miles in soggy shorts and pee soaked socks.

In years past, the weather was hot enough that houses on the route would turn on their sprinklers to cool off the runners since it's a relatively late start time (8:30) for July. This would've been ideal because then I could (a) wash off and (b) make it look like I ran through sprinklers instead of peed my pants. Alas, today, the weather was a perfect 70 degrees. Not hot enough to warrant sprinklers, but definitely perfect to be running in. If you haven't peed yourself.

At the first water station, I ceremoniously dumped the cup of water on my head--as though it were 90 degrees and I was going to overheat if I had to go any further--in a futile attempt to make it look like my shorts were suppose to be wet. The shock of the cold water took my breath away, making it that much harder to run.

I crossed the line at an incredibly respectful 28:10, my fastest 5k EVER by over a minute and a whooping 5+ minutes faster than 2 weeks ago, but I'm positive that I could've beat 28 minutes had I not peed on myself. Oh the shame.

Thinking back, I do not recall having an overwhelming need to pee before the race began. In fact, there was no call to nature even as the event was unfolding. It wasn't until I was hitting those hills at a 7 minute pace that I realized I had reached terminal bladder velocity. As in, this is how fast I could slam the pavement and still maintain my diginity. Terminal bladder velocity was probably about 30 seconds slower than that. But by then, the damage was done and I had to keep up the pace so that any sprinkles felt by those nearby could be attributed to sweat and not, actually, loss of bladder control.

Go ahead. Laugh at my expense.

Life in the Drive Through

I spend Tuesdays with my mom. We usually go to eat and run errands. This week, Josh insisted on bringing a box of Mac and Cheese to my mom's house. So my mom made the yellow death and I opted to find us lunch at Taco Time.

Taco Time has the best fast food tacos out there, but their drive through lane is SO slow. I pulled in behind a cop and preceded to wait my turn. I saw the cop hand the money to the cashier and then put his car in park to await his food.

Meanwhile, across the parking lot is a grocery store gas station. These gas stations have no convenience stores, but just a little bubble that the attendent sits in.

Suddenly, the attendent starts yelling and both the cop and I look over at the commotion. A white SUV is peeling out of the parking lot and the attendant is gesturing to the cop and yelling that the car just stole gas.

Idiots. In front of a cop car and everything.

But in their defense, I do notice that the cop looks over to the food window, (longingly, I would imagine, but I'm not sure because I could only see the back of his head) hesitating before pulling out to chase the perps, leaving his (much anticipated?) food behind.

At least when Wade and I stole gas, we did it under cover of night and without known police presence (though it was next door to the police department). We even went inside the convenience store and hung out there for 20 minutes before hightailing it out.

Explanation?

Nah. Just lends to our mysteriousness. Though I will say this: Did you know that they keep pictures of you in the back in case you show up again? Yeah, we didn't know either.