A Dozen Months & 6 Years

I'm proud, relieved, and too tired to think of another descriptive word to say that both of my children's birthday parties are over for the year, and were quite successful.  I know many parents go a little overboard when it comes to their children's parties, especially when it is birthday numero uno.  Husband and I kinda did the opposite.  In mid-February, I started a list of invitees for Baby's first party.  After a few minutes of writing, I stopped and counted- 42.  As much as I enjoy the number 42, the thought of feeding 42 people, making 42 people comfortable, entertaining 42 people, and hearing 42 voices in our small house was more than a little daunting.  We decided to reduce the number of invitees by less than half, and ended up with 11 guests.  2 friends of mine did amazing Minnie Mouse themed parties for their 1-yr-old girls, I've seen princess themed parties, Sesame Street, Hello Kitty, Strawberry Shortcake, farm animals...I chose balloons. Baby likes balloons.  I was only a teensy bit embarrassed to say "balloons" when people asked what theme I had chosen for her party.

"Bah?  Bah?"
"Yes!  Balloons!"
"Bah?  Bah?"
"Yes!  Baby!  Bunny!  Birthday!  Ball!  She's so brilliant."

On Etsy.com, I had seen a really cute wreath made of balloons, and a hair barrette, too.  Instead of ordering those items, though, I decided to make them mycheapskateself.  The wreath turned out okay.  Not photograph-and-blogworthy, but I think most people knew it was a decoration made with balloons.  After finishing the wreath, though, I decided Baby wouldn't care to wear a balloon-decorated barrette.

Like every great mom, I had forgotten all about baking her cake the day before her birthday.  So, I got up early and did a whole bunch of math and guesswork to make her an individual-sized, dairy free, healthy-ish carrot cake with orange glaze.  It tasted a little floury, but wasn't bad, considering.  We had practiced blowing out the candle, although not with an actual flame.  Turns out, that flickering orange guy is really tempting, and she felt she needed to grab it.  Singed a bit, maybe, but she didn't even cry!  I did have to scrape some melted wax off her tiny finger, though.:(

Yay!

She dug into the cake like she was one of those TV babies.  Both hands were grabbing huge pieces of cake, shoving some into her face and flinging others onto the ground.  Eventually, some of the treat I had worked so hard on made its way into her mouth, at which point she promptly scraped it out, spit several times, and threw the spat-out pieces at me.  Lucky for our guests, my dear Mother-In-Law is an expert at making ice cream cakes, and with the help of my Sister-In-Law, they provided a delicious one that nobody spit or scraped out of their mouth.

Daddy helped her open presents.

She received great, generous, mostly pink gifts, and seemed truly delighted by many of them.  All the guests left with full bellies, and the party was over quickly enough that she didn't even have a screaming, exhausted baby meltdown.

The next day was Sunday, 2 days before our son's actual 6th birthday.  We had decided to throw a surprise party for him about 24 hours before he asked us to throw him a surprise party... despite that, he didn't suspect a thing.

He loves the show Wild Kratts on PBS (it's about wild animal adventures), so that was the theme for his party.  On Etsy.com, I found (and actually purchased) a personalized Wild Kratts cake decoration on edible paper for less than $10!

Add plastic jungle animals, sickeningly overpriced animal print candles, and you've got yourself a pretty amazing cake for  <$20!

I could not justify spending $23 on the personalized Wild Kratts birthday banner, so I decided to make one. On...um...Etsy.com, I had seen one that I really liked and figured I could copy.  Turns out, I'm better at cutting paper than I am at gluing balloons.

As is my wont, I forgot to take a picture when things looked best; before the streamers ripped and the other balloon bouquet disappeared, and the stuffed wild animals got played with.  

The kids played charades, attacked the zebra pinata like a pride of lions attacking an actual zebra, ate pizza, animal crackers, cheetos, fruit, crackers-n-cheese, blew whistles until every adult was near tears, misused the self-inking stamps to tattoo their bodies, and played at keeping the non-helium balloons in the air by combining perfectly jumping, hitting, and screaming.

He had plenty of help opening his gifts.

The gifts were, again, generous and greatly enjoyed.  The food was (mostly) consumed, the kids got along well with each other, and 6-yr-old had a really super time.  He did ask afterward why we didn't tell him that we were throwing him a surprise party, and seemed a little confused about some of the ways we had tricked him.
"So, did you really go over there to run?"
"No, I went over there to set up the party."
"Why did you tell me you were going to run?"
"Because I didn't want you to know I was setting up the party."
"So you didn't go running at all?"
"No."
"Why not?"

Not that most of us have much control over these things, but I do recommend not having your children's birthdays within 3 days of each other.  It makes for a very stressful few days.  I also advise you to be honest with yourself about your crafting abilities when you're trying to be thrifty and use Etsy.com for ideas rather than for purchases.  And, if you need any help cutting paper into very simple shapes, you can count on me!

Has anyone ever surprised you with a party?

Best birthday party theme?  Other than the obvious, "balloons", of course.

Happy Birthday, Mommy of Mine!

At last, the post you've all been waiting for!  The time has come, the time is now, the how-I-started-running story is finally here!  (It just happens to coincide with my mom's 29th birthday.)

Simply put, my sister made me do it.  She's two years older than me, and my earliest memories include her great ideas for what we should do, how we should play, and where we should adventure.  The fact that I can't recall ever not following her lead speaks volumes for the quality of her ideas, as I'm not one to let others think for me or tell me what to do.  And by "others", of course, I mean "other-than-her"s.

She probably told me to make a stupid hand motion behind her.

The longer version of the story is what you're here for, though, right?  If not, then go ahead and skip to the end.*

I didn't realize that my sis had been running until after she raced her first 5k.  (Aside- her first race time still beats my current best race time.  She's really stinking fast.)  I think she, like many new runners, felt a little weird talking about her new found love.  It doesn't make sense when you think about it logically, but I've read about it in articles and heard about it from several people and even noticed that I did the same thing- secret running.  Once I learned about her habit, I, of course, wanted to follow in her footsteps (har har).  Early in the summer of 2010, she took a break from running for a few weeks, and I had the ridiculous thought that I could catch up to her if I started then.  I went out for exactly 2 runs during those 6 weeks.  I wore pajama shorts and undertanks, and sneakers which weighed approximately 3 lbs each.  I went a mile each time, running for about 25 seconds, walking for 5 minutes, and then running for a few seconds more before I lost my breath again and let myself walk.  I got shin splints after both "workouts", which hurt for many days, and were quite discouraging.  Fast forward to late August, when we were both at a baby shower and a mutual friend, Angie, started asking Jenn about running.  Angie lives less than a mile from me, and at the time, my sister lived about 3 miles away.  The three of us decided that we would start meeting to run together early in the mornings, starting the following Monday.  Jenn would drive to Angie's, the two of them would run to my house where I would meet them outside just after 6, and then we'd all jog around the well-lit park across the street from where I live.

The following Monday arrived, and my alarm went off at 5:50, as expected.  I thought to myself, "Hah!  Like I'm going to get out of my cozy bed to go run.  Nobody really expects that of me."  A few hours later, I talked to my thoroughly annoyed sister on the phone.

"Where were you this morning?  I thought you were going to meet me and Angie outside."

"Oh, you thought I was serious about that?  I don't run, remember?"

"Sigh. Not if you stay in bed, you don't.  Jerk.  We're meeting again tomorrow.  You'd better be out there when we get to your house."

"Fine.  But I'm not going to like it."

The next day, I actually got out of bed when my alarm went off.  Brushed my teeth, put on my socks and new, Target brand, slightly-lighter sneakers, and went outside.  (Notice I didn't mention changing into running clothes.  That's because I thought it best to sleep in them, since they were also my pajamas.)  A few moments later, my sister ran up.  I leisurely sauntered down to the end of my driveway while she jogged in place, waiting for me.

"Come on!"

"What, now?  Don't I need to, like, warm up or something?"

"Yes, dummy.  Running will do that."

"Oh.  Where's Angie?"

"At the end of the other street.  She needed to catch her breath."

By the time we got to Angie, 0.1 miles away, I was gasping for air and my thighs were burning.  We decided to skip the park and just "run" back to Angie's house, as that would be plenty of exercise for us two newbies. When we made it there, (0.75 miles in ~14 mins) I had Jenn drive me back to my house.  All the blood circulating in my legs made my thighs red and itchy** and I still felt out of breath when I got out of her car and went inside for a shower.  Over the next few weeks, we got into the habit of running together nearly every morning.  We got to know the dark streets in our neighborhood, figured out that the lights in the park didn't make the surrounding woods less scary, learned to expect the meanest-sounding growl from that one dog who we all pictured to be the size of Godzilla, witnessed a car accident, and gradually, started being able to run longer distances.  I did not stop wearing my pajamas to run, and I did not even consider spending money on running shoes again, after I had just spent over $20 on the pair I was using.

When I read blog posts, I like a lot of pictures.  I think we can all be grateful that nobody took photos at any of those early-morning runs, though, and instead enjoy this picture of my little beauty.

And now, one of my famous (to those who know me well) story tangents.  I'll get back to the running story eventually, I promise.

Husband proposed to me on Christmas day, 2009, and we set 10/10/10 as our wedding date.  In February of '10, we bought a house and spent over a month fixing it up before we moved in.  Once we were settled, the wedding plans began in earnest.  I'm a pretty laid-back individual, and Husband is also easygoing.  We both wanted our wedding to be small and personal, and didn't care much about all the usual trappings of such things.  (Aside- we spent just about $5,000 on our wedding, had around 100 guests, and it was absolutely perfect for us.  Live music, flowers, cake, really truly delicious food, signature beverages, a unique and comfortable venue, a delightful candy buffet... Stay tuned for advice on inexpensive, fabulous events like that one.)  It just so happens that even mild mannered, un-bridezilla-ish women like me can get a little stressy when faced with events like house buying, remodeling, and wedding planning.

You can't tell, but the counters had pink flowers, and the insides of the cabinets were pink, too.

Best $250 ever spent?  Reglazing the tub and fixtures to white.  I cried real tears of joy when the pink was gone.

Between February and August of that year, I visited the doctor 3 separate times for 3 different, debilitating ailments, which all turned out to be caused by stress.  Since then, I've been to the doctor 3 times, and once was for a new employee drug screening.  I was taking ibuprofen 3 times a day, every day, because my back and shoulders hurt so badly from tension.  I was excited about my upcoming nuptials (that always looks like a dirty word to me), but I was not handling things well, really.  I was extra forgetful, snappish, exhausted, and probably not much fun to be around.  Then, one pre-dawn morning, my life changed forever.

(Aaaaannndddd, we're back, just like I promised.)

On September 27th, 2010, I celebrated my one-year cigarette free anniversary with my longest run to date, from my house to my sister's.  I had still been doing a lot of whining and complaining during many of our daily runs, and I still told everyone who would listen that I hated running.  It was hard.  It made me sweaty and stinky.  I gave up sleeping in.  I said the words, "I'm going to die" almost every time we hit the pavement.  But, I kept doing it.  At the time, I believed that I only did it because Jenn and Angie were expecting me to.  Now, I realize that I was already addicted, even though the need to run was still sub-conscious.  I also didn't figure out right away that I wasn't having the same physical manifestations of the stress I was under.  I just stopped taking the ibuprofen, without really wondering what had made the tension leave my back and shoulders.  I gladly started thinking straight and remembering things again, without ever considering saying "thank-you" to my sister and friend for making sure I was running all the time.

Calling oneself 'gorgeous' is probably a bad quality, right?

Every bride should be so lucky to have a Maid of Honor who makes them do a laughbend like my sister did to me.

Running kept me sane during some of the most overwhelming months of my life.  And when things calmed down, and Fiance was finally Husband, I realized that I didn't want to stop running.  The thought of not being able to run anymore, for whatever reason, became a really scary one.  It was while out for a run while honeymooning that I understood that my name wasn't the only thing that had recently changed-- I had changed.

I'm a runner.  Seeing those words on my screen makes me thankful, proud, joyful, and a little choked up.  Being a runner has also brought me into the strongest, best physical shape of my life.  I've learned that I can endure a lot, that I'm able to overcome obstacles, whether they be mental, physical, or actual things like dead animals on the sidewalk.  So, thanks, snissy, for going first and dragging me along with you.

My advice today is to take the advice of those who know you.  Even if it means getting out of your (literal) comfort zone and going outside to wait in the dark to punish your body and whip it into shape.

Easy Question:
From whom do you take advice?

Hard Question:
What has changed you?

 *It's impossible for me to type those words without then reciting in my head the wedding scene in "The Princess Bride." "Skip to the end!" Do you, Buttercup, take... "Man and Wife!  Say Man and Wife!"  Man and Wife...

**Am I the only one who has experienced this?  I've never heard anyone else complain about it.

Posturing

Cross training is...important?  Yes ...beneficial?  Yes ...recommended by those in the know?  Always ...done consistently by runners like me?  Um.  Well.  See, the thing is, I just don't have any desire time.

We've all heard that running is addictive.  Maybe that's why we runners don't like to do other kinds of exercise.  A crack addict will probably smoke weed if it's put in their hand, but they're certainly not going to put in much time, money or effort to obtain it.  It just doesn't have the same effect.  I'm like just about every other runner I know; cross-training doesn't really become important until an injury prevents me from running. And we're all a bit like the flat broke crack addict who finds some free Mary Jane, sighing, "It's better than nothing."

I realize that the experts talk about cross-training for runners as different forms of cardiovascular exercise that work the same muscles used in running, but in different ways.  Liptickling, rowing, cycling, swimming, and even pool running are technically the cross-training exercises that runners should do.  If you've been hanging around these parts for any length of time, you know that this is not a technical blog.  Or, technically, a running blog.

"Just you wait.  Soon, I'll be able to roll my eyes when you're annoying."
See?  Nothing to do with running.

It is a blog!  And I do have some advice to share!  And it's probably worth less than my son's duplicate Pokemon cards!  And it might not even be entertaining to read!  So many sentences should not start with 'and'!  Where was I?  Oh, yeah.  Cross-training.  Er- CROSS TRAINING!!!!!  Woooooo!

I contend (because I wanna) that cross-training can be whatever exercise, other than running, you find enjoyable and actually do on your non-running days. I try to work in an hour of Yoga a week, plus an hour of Arms-n-Abs on a different day.  The key word in that last sentence, of course, is 'try'.  When I'm not dealing with a running-related injury, it's a whole lot easier to skip going to the gym and just pound the pavement.

I can hold some yoga poses for hours.  I'm just that good.

Since training for last November's half-marathon, I've had an on-again/off-again relationship with calf, knee and hip pain.  I've had more pain-free days than pain-full days, but my knee started protesting again -loudly- during a run a few weeks ago.  Since, I've been running fewer miles, walking more, and RICEing (rest, ice, compression and elevation) my knee each time it starts to hurt.  After a half-mile walk/half-mile run "workout" earlier in the week, I found myself with plenty of time to get to Yoga class at the Y where we have a family membership.  I arrived early enough to lay out my mat, arrange my water bottle and shoes, put down the ladybug that had hitched a ride in on my shirt, and send a guilt trip text message to my sister about how everyone else there had a friend.  (Turns out, I did, too.  The ladybug stayed right next to my mat throughout the entire class, and climbed quietly back onto my arm as we started the meditation practice at the end.)  Here's what I love about yoga: I don't even feel like I'm working out, but my muscles are sore afterward.  Using the connection between body, mind, and breath really does enable me to do things I wouldn't have expected to be able to do.

I look just like that when I do it, but with the bulges in different spots.
p.s. Gross, right?  Shouldn't they have photoshopped that out?

Once the class was over and I had set my ladybug friend free again, I spoke to the instructor about how my feet cramp up when I'm on the tops of my toes.  She suggested stretching my toes (and the rest of my body) often, continuing to practice Yoga, and she directed me to my new favorite website, where ancient meets present day.  That night, I searched for information about my foot-cramping problem and learned that-- wait.  Do you want to guess?  I bet you can.  While you think on it, please enjoy this lovely picture:

Sun rising behind the mist of Niagara Falls

If you guessed that my foot cramps are related to my intermittent calf, hip and knee pain, you win! It turns out that all those parts are connected (dur) and if you stand, unbalanced, with bad posture, you probably also walk with your feet going wonky, and you might even run with your hips swaying, back arched, and your heels hitting the ground way harder than necessary.  I do all of these things.  As discouraging as it has been to learn that I don't know how to run, and that in fact, I'm so bad at running that I've caused actual damage to my body, I found hope in this article!  Basically, if I consistently practice Yoga and incorporate some breathing and posturing techniques into my running, I can expect relief from my pains.

I made another Great Discovery at the gym the next day.  I can use the elliptical machine and the weights without hurting myself!  I ran on the elliptical for 20 minutes without even a twinge of knee pain, and followed up with a round of upper body and core work, also without pain.  Of course, I also didn't feel all my worries melt away, or get the relief and relaxation that come after a good run.  To put it a different way, "marijuana" will never replace my "crack".  But it isn't a bad stand-in.

What's your "crack"?

When In Doubt, Get Out

"And Run" was going to be the ending of the title, but it didn't rhyme.

(No, this is still not my running testimony.  That story is coming soon, though, I promise.  Try to be patient.)

I do realize that not everyone is a runner.  And I understand that there are millions (billions?) of people in the world who will never enjoy running.  I won't start lecturing on how great it is to run, nor will I lament all the poor souls who cannot or do not run.  Instead, feel free to substitute your choice of words for "run" when reading this post.  Whatever you choose to substitute for it, though, should be an activity that is healthy and enjoyable, but maybe not so easy to do all the time.  Play.  Walk.  Practice yoga.  Exercise at the gym.  Swim.  Bike.  Jump over the cracks in the sidewalk.  Stretch.  Zumba.  You get the idea.

I could probably end this post here, because that's the point I'm eventually going to get around to making.  However, since this is my blog, I want to tell my stories, and I've only just started this one.

Sometimes--often-- it is hard to find the time to run.  With a still-nursing 9-month old, a kindergarten student to ferry to and fro, 4 mouths to feed, a whole town's laundry to do (I technically just do the laundry for the 4 of us, but haven't you noticed how unfathomably-larger-than-it-should-be the amount of dirty laundry there always is?  Mathematicians should work on figuring that out.  Or maybe our neighbors are sneaking their dirty clothes into our baskets while we're not looking.), various cleaning projects to avoid do, and exactly 300 facebook friends to keep an eye on, my runs are usually scheduled days in advance and are fit in at widely varying times.

Recently, a friend and I made plans to run 7 miles together.  We had exhaustively discussed every possible time that we could both run over the weekend, and had determined that it would need to be Saturday night, after my dad's birthday dinner.  I called her as I was leaving my parents' house to go meet her, hoping to hear the same thing in her voice that I was feeling.  I complained about how I had wanted to leave earlier.  I mentioned that I ate a lot of lasagna.  I maneuvered the words, "I'm tired" into the 2 minute conversation no less than 6 times.  Lucky for me, she was enthusiastic and excited about the run, and I couldn't bring myself to back out.  I did, briefly, consider stopping to buy a pair of running shoes and shorts for Husband (his were at home) and sending him in my stead.  The fact that his longest run to date was just over 4 miles did feel like a deal breaker, though.  As I drove, I kept arguing with myself about whether or not I should be going to run (Not out loud, of course.  This was totally healthy, just in my head, self-talk.  Really.)

I'm really tired.

I'm always really tired.

I'll probably get a stomachache.

But I feel fine now.

I haven't run 7 miles, at night, in a long time.

That's a dumb excuse.

I have to still feed the baby.

That doesn't take very long.

I'm really worried about blah, blah, and blah.

I won't be once I start running, though.

What if Baby won't go to sleep for Husband?

It won't matter, 'cause I'll be running.  And I can bring my phone.

Maybe she won't be mad if I cancel.

Maybe not, but it's certainly unfair.

There was a lot more, but since I actually want folks to keep reading, I'll stop there.  In the end, I decided to run.  The weather was great, the conversation was great, and the run felt easy.  I did get a stomachache, but it subsided between miles 3-4.  Baby did not go to sleep easily for Husband, but she did eventually give up and start snoozing.  And all of my worries got squashed flat into the sidewalk as they flowed out of my body while I pounded the pavement.  Leastwise, that's what I always imagine happens.  It's amazing, how much stress and worry is relieved during a run.  When we got to the end of our miles, both of us wanted to keep running, and I could hardly fathom why I had ever doubted that going out was the right choice.

While searching for an image depicting stress relief from running, I met these uber-relaxed guys.  Apparently, they are resting their heads on faux laps, not butts.  Also worth a try, I guess.

Back to the expected.  Aaaahhhh.  Makes you feel calm already, doesn't it?  This is more like the image I pictured when I started my search.

I can't remember ever regretting a run.  My sister, who has run thousands more miles than I, might regret the one that broke her, temporarily, but I'm sure she doesn't regret any others.  To change an old saying that I don't necessarily agree with to one that is totally true, 'tis better to have run and hated it for a while than never to have run at all.  Today's tip is obvious.  When in doubt, get out and run.  All your doubts will get squashed into the pavement, along with their nasty friends, stress and worry.  You won't regret it.

What's your favorite way to relieve stress?

Ever purchased a fake body part on which to rest your head?