The Life and Times at One Carbon Hill

Let The Choir Sing!

2012-02-07T19:23:00.003-06:00

Bush and No Doubt at the Assembly Hall.
Alanis Morrissette at the Tweeter Center.
Tim McGraw at the Assembly Hall.
They Might Be Giants and Hootie & the Blowfish at the Assembly Hall.

This, to date, is a list of concerts that I have attended in my life. It's pretty paltry (and, admittedly, a little embarrassing) to say the least.

But, oh, is that all about to change.

*cue angels singing, lights of Heaven softly illuminating the room*

Eight hours after receiving confirmation that I will be attending what will no doubt be the musical event of my life, I still am trying to wrap my brain around the fact that this just happened. What started out as an innocent text during the Super Bowl half-time show to Tru Stories has turned into dreams becoming reality less than 48 hours later. I didn't even have "see Madonna in concert" on my bucket list. That dream was too big for me to even conceptualize. But here I am, eight months out from seeing it come to life. Tru Stories as The Dream Maker, to be sure.

I shared this news with no less than ten co-workers today. The first time I said the words out loud I had honest to God goosebumps run down my arms. Most of them looked at me in a mixture of disbelief and awe. One of them screamed out loud when I told her where we'd be sitting. Yes, it really is that big of a deal to those of us who love her.

Madonna is my Beatles. Her cassette was the first one I owned that was solely mine. I've grown up loving her - only occasionally questioning some of her more eccentric behavior yet embracing her throughout nonetheless - and will likely die a thousand tiny deaths sitting in the 13th row at the United Center on September 19th. I told The General tonight that I can only hope there are other mildly psychotic 30 year old women near us so that I don't look completely out of my mind as I jump, dance, sing, and scream with pure, unadulterated joy.

What a way to kick off Harvest Days weekend!

She Rides

2012-02-02T19:52:00.004-06:00

Tonight I experienced the same set of emotions that I imagine a mother bird must as she watches her baby birds fly free from her nest: heart swelling with pride at a major accomplishment met with accompanying pain in the pit of my stomach at the knowledge that her access to the world just became a little bit wider. You know, if birds actually have emotions that is.

It was a long time coming - a significant fraction of her biggest supporters believed it might never come to fruition - but tonight Shortcake finally showed her bike who is boss.

We tried multiple techniques, Googling and canvasing advice from parents who've been there before, and almost all trials were met with Shortcake's steadfast hesitation and trepidation. We bought her a new bike thinking that would be motivation to learn. When she refused to try riding without training wheels we took the bike away thinking that would be motivation learn. She could not be swayed by the fact that all her friends and even some friends two to three years younger were riding with wild abandon. She was as happy as could be riding her Hello Kitty bike with four wheels to the road.

We should have just trusted in her timing. Because here she is, by the fading light of a mild Illinois mid-winter evening, riding her bike like it's no big deal.

You go, Shortcake. Ride on with your bad self.

Looking Her Best

2012-02-01T22:11:00.004-06:00

Let me start this post by saying I may never recover from tonight's main event.

Secondly, let me share this definitive statement: if there is such a thing as an extra "awesome gene," this DNA quirk is most certainly hereditary probably transferred from father to second born daughter.

Let me provide some background before continuing. Punkin's kindergarten concert was tonight, and in an adorable group of nearly 150 five and six year olds, she STOLE. THE. SHOW.

Dressed in her fanciest dress with hair curled just so (she declared multiple times that she "just wanted to look her best" for tonight's concert; I drew the line at her requests for red lipstick to complete the desired look), she sashayed onto the risers with confidence. After securing her place, she then proceeded to wave, hand over her eyes to provide some shade from the bright glare of the stage lights, in our general direction at the back half of the auditorium for approximately five minutes. She was the only waving past the first 30 seconds on stage.

At the appropriate time, she walked up to the microphone in the first group of speakers, delivered her line flawlessly, and then returned to her designated spot to join her classmates in singing the first song of the evening. Upon finishing that song, she proceeded to blow kisses with the flourish of a newly crowned Miss America into the crowd for a full minute. This carried over to the second song as well.

Things started to become a blur of a humor, humiliation, and horror cocktail into the third song as I watched my baby on stage whooping it up for her audience. I wiped tears from my eyes multiple times - tears of joy or embarrassment, I couldn't really tease them apart. I laughed when my dad rightfully proclaimed, "She's spazzing out up there!". I froze in my seat as she started to pull up on the skirt of her dress, suppressing every urge to run up on that stage and yank her off that riser before the entire town saw her underwear. It's like she was finally set free to be who she really wants to be - a star who can't be held down by The Man - and she was going to capitalize on every possible opportunity to shine.

She saved her dancing for the last two performances, really letting loose on the "Ladybug in my Soda" finale. Let me say this about Punkin's dancing. She declared about a month ago that she wants to take dance lessons. While observing her "dance moves," The General declared that this was unnecessary as organized dance classes would just stifle her natural ability. This coming from the man who four days ago was flailing on a table in his underwear. I don't know if that gives you an accurate indication of her dancing ability, but I think you know where I'm going with this. Anyway, during tonight's concert the other students were animated to a degree but were not even in the same stratosphere as Punkin. Facial expressions, hand movements, and hip swaying were all perfectly timed to the lyrics and the beat. At one point I feared that her movements would leave a neighboring classmate with a black eye. The rock 'n roll "sign of the beast" hands to cap off the performance was just the icing on the cake.

But really and truly, this entertaining performance would not have been authentically Punkin without a little nose picking. Luckily, she didn't let us down. Digging for gold two knuckles deep with the treasures to prove it.

I am so proud.

(But seriously, OMG I love her. No one, and I mean NO ONE, makes me laugh like she does. Remind me of this when she's dancing around in her underwear and button down shirt in front of an audience in about 20 years.)

Oh Who Am I Kidding

2012-01-31T18:28:00.009-06:00

You didn't really believe that I would let the Hollywood Masquerade pass without posting at least a few pictures, did you?

The Pre-Party

Smiling in a mask is harder than you'd think.

The Dance - Early Evening

The fact that they dressed in masks and then wore Masquerade masks over them was pure genius. Execution was flawless, although Darth Vader (as well as the other members of The Force )was certainly missed.

In reflection of Saturday night's events, I'm starting to question if Coach ever donned a mask.

The Performance

Look at the adorable smile on that unsuspecting woman's face. Little does she know that she's about to get an up close and very personal glimpse of The General's, um, undergarments. May she lead the youth of the Catholic church down a path more righteous and pure than his has obviously been.

It's widely agreed upon that The General and Munchkin are frighteningly similar in their dispositions (crippling shyness and an overwhelming sense of social anxiety being their strongest bonds, obviously). What I didn't realize is that they also share a look of mild constipation when headbanging.

I'm going to say it. Munchkin's role as Takashi was brilliant. How us Omega Mus kept the rhythm of the choreographed clapping as flawless as we did despite The General's raucous laughter at his sister is a true testament to our unwavering dedication and professionalism.

Is it weird that every night since Saturday, when I close my eyes to fall asleep, I immediately hear the opening notes to this song? I mean, every single time. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I've watched the video at least 30 times (and, sadly, that is not much of an exaggeration).

Let The Good Times Roll

Photobomb courtesy of Mr. MC. His mask was so disturbing I could not make myself go near him. That mouth . . . *shudder*.

The obligatory "blog picture of someone taking another blog picture".

Her general look of distrust probably has everything to do with the fact that I'm about 10 seconds away from ripping that camera away from right around her neck. Man, would this blog be so much cooler if I had one of those (hint, hint).

Thanks again, Connor team. You are amazing.

Hollywood Masquerade

2012-01-29T20:28:00.002-06:00

There are many stories I could tell from last night's Hollywood Masquerade. I could talk about the pre-party - the snacks, the lively conversation, even share some pictures. I could then go on to talk about all the great outfits and masks that were showcased at last night's event. There were some gorgeous dresses, some very fancy masks, and some outside-of-the-box creativity on display to be sure. I could share tales of fun on the dance floor or of random conversations that took place throughout the evening. And trust me - if I were to share these tales you would be entertained and sad that you missed out on a fun evening held with the sole purpose of hating on cancer.

But really that video clip tells you everything you need to know about last night. Big musical number with larger than life personality. Participation in such elaborate productions comes with the territory of being a part of this family, and while I was quite certain that sometime between 9:48 pm and 10:02 pm I was going to suffer from a case of the nervous barfs all over the Parish Hall floor, I embraced my show choir roots and survived. In the end, I'm honored to have been a part of it.

Congratulations to the Connor family for once again pulling off an amazing evening that we'll certainly talk about at every family gathering between now and next January. You never cease to amaze us with your talent and eye for detail.

And Now For Our Feature Presentation

2012-01-28T10:01:00.000-06:00

You've seen us in the 80s, totally tubular with enough spandex, teased hair, tight rolls, blue eyeshadow, and jelly bracelets to get us through one of the greatest decades on record.

We showed you that we could really rock the 70s, some of us once again wearing more spandex than is probably legal.

We twisted and shouted through the 1950s, bringing home multiple championship titles in the process. I learned that night that I could get behind a return of the poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and cat eye glasses fashion trend.

Last year we saw a flash mob dance, group vow renewals, and more costume creativity than ever before at one of the craziest wedding receptions held within the walls of St. Pat's parish hall.

And tonight, the legend continues.

If you love old Hollywood glamor . . . you should come.

If you delight in red carpet fashions and award show hi jinx . . . you should come.

If you think masquerade balls are mysterious, and alluring, and intriguing . . . you should come.

If you are a movie buff and believe in celebrating cinematic greatness . . . you should come.

If you have a gown you've been dying to wear again . . . you should come.

If you have ever been told "You look a lot like (insert famous Hollywood actor/actress here)" . . . you should come.

If you enjoy being entertained . . . you should come.

If you like watching people make fools of themselves in public . . . you should come.

If you just have to dance . . . you should come.

If you want to support an extraordinary team and worthwhile cause . . . you should come.

Tonight.

St. Patrick's Parish Hall in Dwight.

8 o'clock to midnight.

Tickets can be purchased at the door.

Fancy attire or masks not required.

Just like when Billy Crystal hosts the Academy Awards, I promise you will not walk away disappointed.

Woo Hoo!

2012-01-16T11:21:00.002-06:00

Thanks to two kind donations yesterday from Cari's sister and future brother-in-law and the Tru Stories clan, I am officially over my fundraising goal for the March 4th Polar Plunge. Thank you to everyone who has donated so far. I am humbled by your generosity, and on behalf of the Special Olympians that I work with I want to thank you for supporting them and their endeavors!

If you haven't donated yet and would like to, there's still time. To make things interesting, I've decided to take a small gamble with this proclamation: If I am able to double my initial fundraising goal, I will vow to completely submerge myself in the frigid waters of Loon Lake. There's no rule for how far into the lake participants are required to go during the Polar Plunge. I was initially thinking I'd run in to a depth at about knee deep, but if I am able to raise $500 I will go all the way under (and have the pictures to prove it).

Our team also has two fundraising events coming up. Next Friday, we'll be hosting "A Night On Broadway" at Salon Trends in Coal City. Close to 40 baskets will be raffled off that night and wine, cheese, and crackers will be available to enhance the shopping experience. Early in the works is our Polar Coaler Trivia Night being held on Saturday, February 25th. Tables (with up to 10 participants per table) will be available for $100 for a night filled with trivia fun and gifts. Check you calendars and consider forming a team - it should be a fun night!

Thank you again to those who have already donated to the Polar Plunge and Special Olympics Illinois, and thank you to those who are considering making a donation. If you'd like to see me act a fool by dunking myself in a frozen lake, you can click here to go directly to my fundraising page to make a donation or click on the link in the right sidebar of this blog. Donations by cash or check are also welcome!

Sh!t Girls Say

2012-01-15T10:15:00.002-06:00

I'm guilty. Every single one. Especially "Can you do me a favor?". I had no idea how often I ask this until it was parodied. If there were Oscars for YouTube videos this guy should totally win one.

Very Superstitous, Writing's On The Wall

2012-01-13T16:07:00.003-06:00

I'll admit it. I've dreaded today from the first moment my eyes landed on the date on the calendar. I don't like Friday the 13th. Never had, probably never will. I know how ridiculous I'm going to sound in the following paragraphs, but I've got to honest with all of you: I am very (quietly) superstitious.

I won't walk under ladders. One day I rerouted my regular running path solely because a black cat was sitting at the side of the road and I did not want it crossing my path as I ran toward it. I've also stopped an afternoon run to pick up a face-up penny. I firmly believe bad luck comes in a trio. Each time I clean my bathroom mirror I am very aware of how much pressure I am using so as not to cause it to come crashing down, and on our Halloween scavenger hunt this year I flat out refused to take any part in breaking a mirror and ordered the same of my husband. I won't - or let anyone living with me - ever open an umbrella inside the house. I knock on wood, I make wishes on 11:11, and I most certainly had something old, new, borrowed, and blue on my person as I walked down the aisle on my wedding day.

These very common superstitions probably aren't all that unusual I suppose, but now I'll give you all a little glimpse into some of my wackier "issues". It dates back to as early as the junior high years. Our seventh grade basketball had a great season, making it all the way to the state championship game. Sure we had a lot of talent, but to this day I will stand by my humble opinion that a large part of our success was courtesy of the superstitious behaviors, or traditions if you will, we held on to with fury throughout the season. Ann had her lucky hot pink socks which were worn to every game. One uniform - I can't remember now if it was the red or white jerseys - held particularl special powers. Alison always brought her gold padlock, secured tightly to the outside of her duffel back and then placed with reverence on her locker at the appropriate time. We lined up to enter the gym in the same order every single game. Last, but most certainly not least, we had our lucky penny which was placed lovingly in a rosary box donated selfishlessly by one of the Parkers ensuring we had God's blessing for a triumphant victory. That lucky penny housed inside the rosary box was so substantial in its importance that it earned a place of honor right next to our state runner-up trophy until both were removed from the display case to make room for newer accomplishments.

Little nuances like these somehow took root in my brain and to this day impact my daily operations. For example, I always put my right shoe on first. I like to follow nearly the same routine every day, especially on weekday mornings. I am uncomfortable shifting from my standard shower-get ready-get dressed-eat breakfast-leave for work plan. Alterations in other ordinary routines are not easy for me. Examples: I'm certain that if I leave supper dishes unwashed over night, my bed unmade before leaving for work, or our house uncleaned over the weekend that doom will follow.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little less superstitious and a little more OCD. It's just a matter of semantics, right?

In an effort to make me feel better about myself, leave me a comment chronicling one of your superstitions. I'm sure I'm not the only crazy one out there (and if I am, there's always Patrice who is WAY wackier in her superstitious beliefs than I am).

First Time For Everything

2012-01-08T14:24:00.004-06:00

We're moving into the second week of January. In Illinois. And yet, The General is outside mowing the lawn.

This weather is bizarre.

Resolved

2012-01-02T14:39:00.001-06:00

In addition to taking a picture a day, I've also set one other not-so-original resolution for myself.

Get my fat butt back in shape.

It's ridiculous what I've let happen to my body since training for the half-marathon ended. I'm not expecting miracles, like fitting into size zero jeans, although that would be amazing. I would just like to feel good about myself, feel comfortable in my clothes, and not feel parts of my body jiggle that should most certainly not be jiggling during ordinary tasks like tooth brushing or dish washing. Seriously, it's not pretty.

I need to take control over my poor food choices and bad eating habits. I need to cut out the empty calories that comes with drinking pop and pick up my water intake significantly. I need to work out consistently. I need to stop making excuses.

I weigh more now than I ever have (not counting those combined 18 months of being pregnant), and it's disturbing. I don't expect to drop twenty pounds; I don't even expect to drop ten if I'm being honest. All I want is to makes choices that will leave me feeling better physically, mentally, and emotionally and in the process set an example for my daughters about the importance of taking care of your body in an effort to be your healthiest self. No big deal, right?

Operation Less Jiggly back in effect. Let's do this.

New Year Resolution, Take Two

2012-01-01T22:12:00.004-06:00

Last year I committed myself to one singular resolution: to take at least one picture every day. It did not go well.

So, what's that saying again? If at first you don't succeed try, try again? Well, here we go.

This weekend we celebrated Christmas with my immediate family. It's not enough that I occasionally force my children into matching ensembles; now I'm getting my three month old niece, Pebbles, in on the torture.

Clearly part of the trio were slightly less than thrilled with the obligatory Christmas photo session.

The girls were happy and exhausted by the time we got home tonight, but to assure you that the weekend wasn't a total drag for Punkin, I'll leave you with this picture taken during their arts & crafts sessions with Papa this afternoon:

And yes, that have been in those same pajamas for well over 24 hours. That's what Pajama Christmas is all about.

One Carbon Hill's Year In Review

2011-12-30T11:43:00.004-06:00

Seriously, where did 2011 go? With each passing year the days pass by even faster than those before them and just like that we're on the brink of another new year. So how did occupy our time over the past 365 days? Here's a quick review:

January: I resolved to take a picture every day (successful through approximately mid-January). We discovered removing an old water heater is significantly more difficult than installing a new one. Shortcake proved she still looks cute even when half of her face is numb. We attended the most bizarre wedding reception of all time (and we've been to A LOT of wedding receptions, so that's saying something).

February: Snowpocalypse 2011 hit early in the month and we all lived to tell about it. I received the greatest Valentine's Day card of my life. Half-marathon training began and I learned it quite literally possible to run your pants off. The General showcased his deep knowledge of Biblical trivia.

March: We spent our spring break engaged in activities like deep cleaning, a mandatory shut down of all electronic devices (including cell phones, televisions, computers, and gaming systems), a white trash getaway.

April: Punkin turned five. The General turned 34. We celebrated Easter. We feared that our septic system had taken a crap. I ran a half-marathon, easily one of the top ten greatest personal accomplishments of my life to date.

May: We learned that even though they're as cute as they come, the next generation of The General's family have a long way to go in terms of dance ability. I learned that my daughters do no necessarily share in my joy of running. Summer break started and we kicked off the festivities with a wet weekend camping trip to Moraine View State Park.

June: Beach. Pool. Lost teeth. Setting the groundwork for "The Talk". Mud. Homecoming. Maybe my favorite month of the year.

July: This is the month when this blog really started its slow decline to neglect and abandonment. I blame the time spent at the lake, swim lessons, visits with Gizmo & Gonzo, water park outings, and boating on the river. It was a jammed packed month of fun, topped off by Shortcake's seventh birthday and our annual boat trip to Lake Shelbyville.

August: An innocent backyard camping adventure nearly turned deadly as summer came to an end. My baby left for kindergarten and my other baby started second grade. Still impossible to comprehend some days.

September: Soccer was in full effect with both girls playing this year. I shared a very exciting announcement about The General's family growing by two more in 2012, and my heart split wide open once again as we joined my brother and sister-in-law in welcoming sweet Ella Elizabeth into the world.

October: We enjoyed our first full month of having The General home with us every night, and we all celebrated another fun Halloween with friends (some more innocently than others).

November: I declared my intentions to jump into an ice covered lake. We celebrated 95 years with GG. Punkin demonstrated that kindergarten has not taken away any of her sassiness and spunk.

December: I vowed to rededicated myself to writing on this blog and failed miserably (I blame my lack of superpowers. True Blood and Pinterest may have also played a part). After a very long hiatus, I attempted to reconnect with running. We celebrated a wonderful Christmas season with our families and anxiously anticipated what 2012 has in store.

Happy New Year, friends!

Ingredients For The Worst Day Ever (According To A Five Year Old)

2011-12-28T23:04:00.002-06:00

For reasons unknown to me, a relatively lovely day turned to downright despair sometime between dinner and showers for my little Punkin. We all know her mood can change on a moment's notice and today was no exception. Sniffling dramatically from the bathroom, I went in to check on the little drama queen to investigate the origins of her despair. When asked what was wrong she simply declared today was "the wust day evuh".

I asked her to give me five reasons why today earned such a dubious honor. Her response:

1. Her socks were slippery and made her fall down on the hard floor. And you know, she could have really gotten hurt falling on the hard floor of the bathroom.

2. The broccoli that I served with dinner - a vegetable which she has eagerly and willingly ingested since first introduced several years ago - now gives her a rash. An invisible yet highly itchy rash according to Punkin.

3. This broccoli rash, when itched, just gets worse and worse.

4. Her wet hair dripped on her legs and knees.

5. The shirt to her pajamas have fitted sleeves and make her "feel wee-uhed".

So there you have it. Punkin's worse day evuh. Clearly we should all pity her.

My Favorite Day Of The Year

2011-12-24T11:00:00.004-06:00

Shortcake and Punkin have been tracking Santa's delivery route all morning. The table is set with the fancy china, all of the food is prepped as much as it can be, the house is mostly clean, and I only have a couple of loads of laundry to fold and put away. Christmas music is playing in the background, a few presents are wrapped and waiting under the tree to be opened tonight, and the girls already have their plan for what we should leave out for Santa (three cookies, Skittles, some carrots, and chocolate milk). Santa's special key is hanging next to the front door so he can get tonight to leave the girls their gifts - if they've been good, that is.

Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the holiday season, probably of the whole year. I love the traditions that we've created as a family - new ones for our family of four blended with those from The General and my own childhoods - and I love soaking up the excitement of the girls as they spend all day anticipating Santa's arrival.

As always during the holidays, I am reminded of how lucky we are and have been during this past year. There are so many families that are struggling right now, and I spent several minutes last night saying a prayer of thanks for all that we have been blessed with - loving family, good friends, jobs that provide, a warm home, vehicles that carry us safely from destination to destination, our health. In the season of giving, there's honestly nothing more I could ask to receive that those things.

Here's wishing the same for all of you. Merry Christmas from the crew at One Carbon Hill!

Dining Out For A Great Cause

2011-12-18T16:07:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow is Monday. The start of a work week. A last push toward the busy holiday weekend. I imagine you're all running around frantically taking care of last minute shopping, wrapping, baking, or cleaning.

So, in the theme of giving, I'm going to give you the perfect opportunity to take the night off from your regular dinner time duties. You deserve it, don't you think?

Tomorrow - from 11 am to 10 pm - the Morris Pizza Hut will be donating 20% of all purchases to our school's Polar Plunge team. You might remember that I mentioned I'm part of The Polar Coalers, a group of individuals from our school district working to raise money and support for Special Olympics of Illinois. As a fundraiser, we will be standing outside the Morris restaurant after school tomorrow handing out fliers that can be presented on any dine-in or carry-out orders.

Everyone one loves pizza. And EVERYONE loves not having to face food preparation or clean-up the week of Christmas. Hope to see you there!

(And don't forget: You can always make a donation directly to my fund raising page. I'm only $30 away from my goal - who wants to put me over the edge?)

Perhaps We Need To Persue Alternative Programming For A Bit

2011-12-15T17:32:00.003-06:00

Today, while picking up the necessary groceries for dinner, I steered my cart into the soup/pasta/canned goods aisle and literally stopped dead in my tracks.

The woman standing in that aisle turned toward me as I walked past her and I swear - I SWEAR - she had Maryann induced black hole demon eyes. She was, however, fully clothed and acting mostly appropriately so I may have been mistaken.

Still. Creepy.

Season Three, Disc One arrives tomorrow. Yeah.

A Question I've Been Pondering A Significant Portion Of My Day

2011-12-12T20:47:00.004-06:00

Is it really necessary for one civilian vehicle (a Suburban, for those that must know in order to answer this question thoughtfully and thoroughly) to have ten - yes TEN - antennas adoring its hood and roof?

And if it is in fact necessary, could someone please explain why?

Unrelated: here's the link to the to-die-for-banana-cake recipe I mentioned last week. We finished it today, and a thick veil of melancholy has settled over our home as a result.

Excuses

2011-12-08T20:13:00.003-06:00

Last night's lack of a blog post can be attributed to the continuation of a True Blood marathon and To-Die-For Banana Cake (actual recipe name, very fittingly so).

Tonight's poor excuse for a post can be blamed on more True Blood viewing and another helping of To-Die-For Banana Cake.

The General's new schedule is great for fostering shared entertainment interests, not so great for my figure.

Over and out.

Where Did We Go Wrong?

2011-12-06T21:22:00.003-06:00

I'm not sure how it happened, but we have a traitor among us.

It was an event that blew the minds of many when The General declared a change of NFL allegiance a few years ago. For many seasons, he was a faithful, devoted fan of the Denver Broncos. The one-two punch of a Jay Cutler trade and Mike Shannahon firing was too much for him to bear however, and he announced that he was officially becoming a Chicago Bears fan solely and completely.

It was an easy transition for our family of four having always rooted for the home team anyway. I mean, everyone born in Illinois before the Reagan administration remembers where they were during the 1985 Superbowl Victory. Our football loving family has enjoyed many a Sunday afternoon rooting on Da Bears, that is until a very unsettling turn of events has recently transpired.

Punkin has declared herself a fan of the Green Bay Packers. I don't know how it happened, but just like that we're raising a cheesehead.

I can very easily point the finger of blame in one of two primary directions. First and foremost, I will call out our nephew Vince for the initial poisoning of his younger cousin. This Packer jersey wearing young man has certainly influenced Punkin without our prior consent. Secondly, my own sister-in-law Care Bear - a life-long Cheesehead herself- can consider share responsibility for the final push to get Punkin to the dark side. It doesn't help that she randomly sends text messages of a smiling, adorable, squishy faced Pebbles dressed in her green and gold sleeper. It takes a very strong soul to resist that influence; I could be driven to much darker depths in the name of making that little girl happy.

We'll chalk it up to yet another way we've gone terribly wrong with raising this second child of ours.

On The Road Again

2011-12-05T20:38:00.003-06:00

Him: What are you looking at?

Her: You've got some gray hair growing here.

Him: I'm getting old, baby.

Her: It makes you look distinguished.

Him: (laughing) Thirty-four is rough.

Her: Yeah, I think I've gained twelve pounds since my birthday.

Him: Oh really?

Her: I think I'm going to run tonight.

Him: I bet you don't.

Her: You know, you are good at a lot of things but motivation is not one of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

But with nothing but darkness and the voices of Madonna and the Chili Peppers surrounding me, I ran. After a very long hiatus, I ran a relatively short distance. It hurt a little, but damn did it feel good.

Side note fun fact: During the first four months of 2011, I logged a combined 118.19 miles. As for the rest of the year to date? 37.55. And I wonder why I've felt increasingly like the Pillsbury Dough Boy in the last couple of months.

Redemption

2011-12-04T22:09:00.004-06:00

Today I showed Christmas decorating who was boss.

Tree is lit and ornaments are placed.

Seasonal apothecary jars - as seen on Pinterest - crafted.

Outdoor lights restrung and rehung.

Chandelier decorated ala Pinterest (are you sensing a theme yet?).

In other news, the house is clean, clothes are (mostly) laundered, and True Blood viewing is in progress. Sundays rule.

A Quick Decorating Inventory

2011-12-03T10:46:00.003-06:00

An account of my attempts to decorate my home for Christmas as of last Sunday:

(3) ornaments, broken

(1) vase, shattered

(6) strings of light, non-functional

(1) close call, electrical fire. See note below.

(675) lights, un-lit on a 700 light pre-lit Christmas tree

(4) strings of outdoor lights, working right up until the moment I replaced the final unlit bulb at which point the entire display went dark.

(Significant) amounts of patience, lost in this process of decking our halls

Note: Six strings of lights strung on three packages of garland housed in one 2x1 foot wood box does not pass fire code.

Showing My Age

2011-12-02T07:33:00.001-06:00

Today I turn 34. Thirty-Four. Almost half-way to The Big Four-Oh. Ouch. It's scary when you begin celebrating birthdays you remember your own parents celebrating.

For those of you young whippersnappers out there reading, you might be wondering how a thirty-four year old celebrates this milestone. Spa day? Weekend getaway? Quiet evening at home? Raucous night of partying at the local watering hole?

I can only speak for myself, but I've got a well thought out plan and am excited to get the party started. It's a multi-step process; as you might already know, I firmly believe in stretching out the celebration at least a full week.

Tonight we'll attend Shortcake's mini Christmas concert at our high school's promfest fundraiser. I'll try not to buy a heavily decorated Christmas tree. Probably clean the house and do some laundry after putting the kids to bed.
The following day, drop the girls off at my parents in order to spend the following several hours partaking in shopping at Hobby Lobby in order to procure necessary items to complete the long list of craft projects I've complied for holiday decorating and gift giving purposes. Pinterest strikes again.
Reward The General for his patience with a meal at one of his favorite restaurants.
Stop by The Home Depot to pick out my combo birthday/Christmas present: a new dishwasher!
Pick up the girls, fall asleep on the way home, try not to drool on the truck's middle console.
Sunday will be jammed packed with Christmas tree decorating, craft project assembly, laundry, and maybe a little True Blood viewing if the latest Netflix delivery arrives in time.

Try not to be jealous. My life is very glamorous.

(And I wouldn't want it any other way.)

Overworked and Underappreciated

2011-12-01T19:00:00.001-06:00

As we were eating dinner the other evening, somehow the conversation turned to The General and his "super hero" powers. An simple statement turned into a 15 minute love fest between The General and his daughters.

"He's strong."

"He acts crazy sometimes."

"He's really funny."

"He's the most handsome dad ever."*

And on, and on, and on.

*offered up by an oh-so-humble General, simply agreed upon by the girls

Eventually (as perhaps a little bit to The General's dismay) the conversation ended and transitioned into Punkin's new favorite game of "Raise your hand if you ______". After a few rounds, I sweetly asked if the girls thought I possessed any super powers.

Response: awkward silence followed by a smooth avoidance of the question by both of my children.

I laughed it off, happy to let the matter drop. The General must have sensed my need for affirmation and he posed the question again.

And again, awkward silence. Avoidance of the question. Now it was starting to feel a little personal.

The General was not to be deterred. He asked the girls one more time - "What super hero powers does mommy have?" - and before they could ignore the question for a third time he started providing some examples as motivation.

"She makes yummy suppers."

"She keeps your tummy full so you can stay healthy."

"She keeps our house nice and clean."

"She helps you when you take baths and showers."

And finally, they spoke.

"Yeah, and do you remember that sometimes you help us when it's time for baths? You're good at helping with baths, Daddy."

You know, he really was. Four years ago when he last could be talked into assisting with that task.

There was really nothing to do but laugh. I'm sure they'll think of something that makes me spectacular in their eyes one of these days. In the meantime I guess I'll just continue keeping their tummies full and house clean.

Just Write

2011-11-28T18:50:00.002-06:00

Okay, this bi-monthly blogging thing is getting a little ridiculous. I will place 85% of the blame for my hiatus on Pinterest. It is an evil temptress that has sucked me in full force and now threatens to ruin me with all the crafting and home renovations and wardrobe makeovers I have lined up in my head. It's about as life changing as the iPad and has taken over my ability to function as a productive human being. Crazy addicting, I assure you.

So here's the deal. For me, writing on this blog is important to preservation of memories and at times my own sanity, and I need to nurture it accordingly. Therefore, I'm putting myself on a strict blogging routine starting on December 1st. The objective? Just write. Similar to exercising, I find that when I regularly post it's easier to keep going. So starting on the first day of December, I'm going to attempt to post something every day for the duration of one of the busiest months of the year. It's probably a ridiculously ambitious goal, but it needs to be done. We'll call it the half-marathon of blogging just for fun.

So hang on for the next few days, folks. Radio silence is set to end in t-minus two . . .

A Selfish Wish

2011-11-13T19:51:00.001-06:00

If I had the power to grant myself one wish, a wish that I could make as I blow out my next set of birthday candles, a wish held close to my heart at the next sighting of a shooting star, it would be this:

I wish to lead a life as full of love and living as GG.

I want to live in my house forever, the house with the driveway from where I softly whispered to my newborn babies "You're home" and the rooms where I rocked those babies to sleep in my arms.

I want to see my daughters get ready for their proms, their graduations, their weddings from the same bedrooms where they played dolls, and school, and slept in perfect childhood innocence.

I want to look at my husband with the same love and affection on our 60th anniversary as I did on the day we were married. Perhaps even more.

I want to share dances with that same man, laughing at the shocked looks on the faces of our grandchildren as we walk out of one of our favorite restaurants for a late night/early morning breakfast long after they expected we would be at home asleep.

I want to be a woman of unwavering faith.

I want to meet the ladies for weekly lunch dates. I'm not sold on afternoons of bridge or pinochle, but I'm not totally against the idea.

I want to be able to wear (and, more importantly, fit into) the same clothes through four decades and look good doing it. Weighing 95 pounds wouldn't be so bad either.

I want to feel comfortable asking family members 50 years my junior for fashion advice and then be confident enough to follow through with their recommendations.

I want to delight in life's simplest pleasures, like a beautiful bloom on a geranium or a quiet moment swinging on the porch.

I want to be the only person in my family allowed to demand more great-grandchildren. Because, really, can you ever have too many great-grandbabies?

I want to be sassy enough to, when asked by my great-grandchild if I'd like to take a ride to a neighboring town, quickly respond with "No, but you can drive to my house and pick up sticks".

I want to possess a resilience beyond explanation, an ability to hold onto both internal and external motivation and forge ahead despite the biggest obstacles standing in the way.

I want to be able to loudly express my appreciation for attractive actors in the middle of a dark movie theater without apologizing for either my honesty or the embarrassment I caused the family members who sat beside me.

I want to be known as the coolest grandma ever - someone who my grandchildren (and all of their friends) feel comfortable joking with but who is also respected to the highest degree.

And more than anything else, I want for my home to be filled with as much celebration, laughter, and love on my 95th birthday as was felt today as we celebrated hers. I want to be surrounded by my children and their spouses, my grandchildren and their children. I want to know that those who had gone on before me are never far away, constantly in my thoughts and always in my heart. I want to experience what it feels like to live a life so full that my heart spills over with joy as I look around at those I hold dearest.

Happy birthday to one of the most amazing women I have had the honor of having in my life. My wish for you on this special occasion is that you realize that in your gentle nature, with your sweet gestures and kind words, you have touched more lives than you can ever imagine. Thank you for being a role model for everything that I can only hope to achieve in my own lifetime.

Expanding The List Of Crazy Things I Do To Support An Amazing Cause

2011-11-09T18:46:00.001-06:00

"Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt."

~Special Olympics Athlete Oath~

For the past three years, I have freely and excitedly supported my friends and co-workers in their quest to raise money for Special Olympics of Illinois by writing out checks, making soups to assist in their lunchtime fundraising efforts at school, and cheered them on from a distance while I sat snuggled up under the warmth of a fleece blanket from the comfort of my couch on a cold early March afternoon as they voluntarily submerged themselves into an ice covered Loon Lake.

While these women have been very appreciative of my efforts to date, this year those simple tasks on my part aren't going to cut it. Not entirely against my will, I have agreed to join these friends as well as several other teachers in our district to be a part of The Polar Coalers. As a result of this commitment, on March 4th you will be able to find me running into (and VERY quickly after out of) an ice covered lake in Yorkville, Illinois all in the name of showing support for and honoring some amazing students that I have had the pleasure of working with.

I've heard the jokes about Special Olympians. I know the preconceived notions that some narrow minded people may hold. I suppose to the average person it may be easy to dismiss them as not "real" athletes. But I dare you to find a group of people who demonstrate more determination and perseverance not only in their sport but also in their life. These individuals are constantly fighting against the odds, having to work harder to achieve the same success and recognition as their non-disabled peers. I have learned incredible lessons from these students and athletes about what it means to "never say never"; they encourage me on a daily basis to challenge the way I think and do my job in an effort to give them the tools they need and deserve in order to live a happy, full, fulfilled life.

Several of my students participate in Special Olympics, and I can not say enough about the positive impact participation in their sports have had. I've watched their self-esteem skyrocket, their social relationships blossom, and their overall confidence shoot through the roof. This is a group who from birth has constantly been faced with statements filled with "she won't be able to" and "he will never" - and thanks in part to the opportunities generated by participation in Special Olympics they have turned those statements into "I will, I have, I did, I can".

I know times are tough and money is tight. The holiday season is upon us and extra funds are being earmarked to make your child's Christmas morning dreams come true. However, I'm asking that you might consider making a small donation to this cause by clicking here or by accessing my fundraising page from the link I've placed on the sidebar of this blog. You are also more than welcome to make an in person donation to me anytime before our plunge. Any contribution you would be willing and able to make - no matter how big or small - would be greatly appreciated as I work to reach my fundraising goal of $250. I hate asking people for money - hate it to the point where I'll pay an exemption fee to not have to try to sell goods for the girls' soccer fundraiser or throw out school related fundraising forms as soon as they come into the house - but I believe in this cause and I hope that maybe you will to.

My students - and the thousands like them - deserve it.

It Still Amazes Me She's Not A Weekly Visitor To The Principal's Office

2011-11-08T19:46:00.004-06:00

Scene: Our living room. Shortcake, The General, and I are sitting on the couch looking through Shortcake's baby book per her request. Punkin is randomly flitting around the room asking for autographs.

Punkin begins walking out of the room to brush her teeth, takes no more than three steps, and releases a very loud fart (best description of the sound: a duck's quack). The three of us, from our seats on the couch, turn to chastise her for being so disgusting but before we can even utter a word Punkin casually looks over her shoulder and announces, "Put that in your baby book" and saunters out of the room.

She's more like her Uncle Poke every single day.

Halloween Recap, Part Two: In Which Adults Throw All Attempts At Being Respectable, Dignified Citizens Out The Window

2011-11-02T18:29:00.000-05:00

I will recap our adults-only Halloween party with these three points:

It's a small miracle no one arrested or injured as a result of the greatest scavenger hunt in Halloween history (until next year, that is).
The Legners are saints for opening their home and garage - and as a result having to deal with the pre-party preparations and post-party aftermath - so that their friends and family can act like they are 21 again.
My favorite quote of the night was courtesy of The General, uttered on our last stop of the scavenger hunt in Berkot's 10 items or less line to an elderly woman doing her weekly grocery shopping:
"I know you've probably got some place to go, but I'm in the middle of a scavenger hunt, wearing a loin cloth, and sweating profusely. Do you mind if we jump ahead of you?".

And now the pictures because I know that's all you really are about.

Yes, that is my real hair (hot rollers, teasing comb, and extra hold hairspray work wonders) and no I did not wear this costume to school on Monday (as if my mom really needed to ask). Also, it is not lost on me that despite wearing a "loin cloth" The General was oddly covered this year. Multiple people were confused by this turn of events given his past history.

Dora and Diego. Super cute and maybe just a little bit creepy (especially when Tru Stories announced, "Get it? We're cousins who make out").

This costume may not make sense to most of you, but let me assure you one thing about Sweetbread's getup. NAILED. IT. And Skirthol? Just, um, wow. Nice legs!

The Pirates, him with a totally rocking "ARRRRGH" sound.

Our host and hostess with the most-est. Thanks again for an amazing night!

The always fashionable Mike and Kathy did not disappoint.

No doubt about it, these two had my vote for best couple. Who knew Flag Girl looks exactly like Winona Ryder?

And of course there are a few assorted pictures from the scavenger hunt:

(Quick vote: which is more disrespectful? Appearing as though you are pooping on a grave when really you're just squatting so not to sit on it out of respect for the dead or flashing rock 'n roll/hang ten hand signals? I'm just curious.)

Finally, a few fun random snapshots:

A Dancing With The Stars recap!

DJ Preggerella, cut it up one time.

I feel like I have at least 900 pictures of Proud Munchkin exactly like this from various events.

End of the night foot rubs courtesy of Hell Boy.

Life would be meaningless without good friends to share it with.

Finally, this last picture is especially for Tru Stories.

Your husband + an excellent shot of my husband's chest hair = a spot on your "Things that make me smile" board?

You don't have to answer me now. I'll just be surprised next time I grab a water bottle out of your frig.

Halloween Recap, Part One: The Innocence

2011-10-31T21:22:00.006-05:00

We are, as a family of four, trying to recover from the whirlwind that was this year's Halloween celebrations. Kid party on Friday night, adult party on Saturday, a day of recuperation on Sunday, and a final school party/parade/trick-or-treating-til-they-drop this afternoon combines to equal one tired family. Sheer determination, a boat load of caffeine, and early bedtimes it going to be the only things that see us through the end of this week.

It feels slightly dirty to include pictures of my sweet, pure, angelic children in their Halloween garb with those of the many inappropriate photographs of The General and I with our friends and family, thus I am separating them into two separate posts. It's better for everyone if we keep those two worlds separate in an effort to minimalize trauma to our fragile children.

As I mentioned, the girls were invited to a kid friendly Halloween party on Friday night. They had a fantastic time with their friends in D-Town. The games were entertaining, they were thrilled with their take home bag filled with goodies, and they were exhausted to the point of passing out in the backseat of my car within minutes of leaving town. This year they had complete control of their costumes (minus a few executive overrides, those being negotiations to compromise a more fiscally responsible costume as opposed to Punkin's initial request for the $60 Tiana costume and flat out refusal to buy $15 plastic Ariel themed high heels). I was hesitant to spend the extra money on the wigs, but in the end I realize they really made the costume complete. I also took great pleasure in reminding the girls at every opportunity that they insisted on having them therefore I insisted they continue to wear them, itchiness and uncomfortableness be damned. I was going to get my $16 worth out of those wigs.

This pose was all Shortcake's doing, having studied the packaging on her costume with apparent intensity. She was very excited to go as Strawberry Shortcake this year.

I have a love-hate relationship with this picture. I love it because it perfectly captures my oldest daughter's sweetness yet hate it because she looks so grown up in it. Time just keeps on tickin'. . .

Punkin's pose took some minor coaching. After asking me what Ariel looks like in pictures, I casually mentioned that sometimes she looks off into the sky, like when she's wishing to be part of another world. This is what she came up with. And she committed to it with the passion and intensity of an Academy Award winning actress.

Then she decided to spontaneously go all Showgirls on me. I also have a love-hate relationship with this photograph. Love it = so classically Punkin in all its sassiness. Hate it = I think it's obvious, no?

Today was a day long celebration at school. It kicked off with classroom parties and followed with their separate school wide parades. I joined in on the fun and threw together a little costume of my own with just a few things I had laying around in the closet. It is absolutely amazing (and a little ridiculous) the arsenal of costumes and accessories we have accumulated over the past five years.

Shortcake's parade was first, and she was absolutely beaming with excitement. No child in the history of formalized education has ever loved being at school at much as this child.

Following her parade, I drove over to Punkin's school to watch her walk in her first Halloween parade. The stress on her face in the first picture is a result of concern that I may not be in the crowd. Typical second child, fearful that she will be ignored.

Clearly her face in this picture shows her unbridled joy at knowing her mother is present and accounted for. I won't lie - it feels good to be wanted and loved.

Following school, we rushed home to "fluff and puff" one last time before heading back to D-Town for trick-or-treating in my grandparent's neighborhood. It may seem ridiculous to drive 25 minutes to beg for candy, but when I saw the number of full sized candy bars being distributed I realized we made the right choice.

We enjoyed an hour and a half of strolling the north side of town, a dinner at THE Dairy Queen, and a quiet ride back home rounded out Halloween 2011. Once home, it was straight to bed for my exhausted little ghouls.

May the rest of this week be kind to the weary is all I ask.

Right Now

2011-10-24T17:31:00.003-05:00

I am sitting at the computer, perusing the long list of blogs that I read each day, decompressing after a typical Monday. Outside the living window I'm watching my daughters run around the house, faces radiant with wide smiles. I can hear the laughter and joyful shouts of my husband and our girls as they play football in the backyard. I have dinner mostly prepared, the girls' homework is nearly complete, and I already have one load of laundry washed and waiting to be placed in the dryer.

The sun is shining. My kids are healthy and happy. My husband's new work schedule allows him to be home to share this with us. And I am feeling completely and utterly blessed.

One month into this new routine? I'd say I'm digging it.

Watch Out, William Hung, There's A New Sensation On The Block

2011-10-20T16:23:00.002-05:00

Probably modeled after my own obsession, Shortcake and Punkin are going through a very serious addiction with my iPad and iPhone. They ask for them constantly; if I refuse access to one they immediately ask for clearance to use the other. I suppose I'm (more than) partly to blame. After all, they're enticing all on their own but the fact that I've added apps directly for them doesn't help the cause much.

Punkin has demonstrated a love for Pandora Radio in the last couple of weeks, specifically the Kidz Bop station that I installed for her listening enjoyment. A few weekends ago I heard her walking through the house belting out a familiar song. I couldn't hear music accompanying her, and as she walked into my bedroom it quickly became evident why that was the case - she had decided to rob the rest of us the notes which served as musical accompaniment to her voice by wearing headphones. This served two purposes for those of us unfortunate souls who happened to be within listening range: first we were required to hear her off tune singing with nothing to serve as a filter and secondly her already louder than the average five year old volume was magnified even more thanks to the sound blocking effects of the headphones.

Let me make this disclaimer now: When I refer to Punkin's "singing" I use that term very, very loosely. If it weren't so stinkin' hilarious to watch her perform I would probably beg her to stop for the pain of it. The only thing more amusing is listening to her father sing Prince's "Kiss" while wearing that same pair of headphones. Some people just don't know their range.

Shall we turn this into a fun game? Try to figure out the tunes she is singing (that is if you can stop laughing at her hands motions and Shortcake's Headbanger Ball-esque facial expressions and air guitar long enough to focus on the nearly indecipherable lyrics). One final reminder that you have been warned. I am not responsible for any pain this may cause, but I assure you seeing a glimpse of her enthusiasm is worth the risk.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Did you guess correctly?

A Future Blogger In The House

2011-10-18T19:56:00.002-05:00

Tonight, after reading a hefty collection of books both for academic and leisure purposes, The General was trying his best to reign the girls back in with his "deep, smooth baritone" voice (words in quotations his, I assure you). They were a little silly thanks to their dad's dramatic readings from the Froggy series, and knowing bedtime was next on the agenda he was doing his best to settle them down in preparation for an easy slumber.

Things were going well for about, oh I don't know, a minute until Shortcake decided that moment was the perfect opportunity to unleash a noisy, foul fart. Farts are the single most hilarious thing in the history of the world right now in our house, so naturally giggling resumed in full force - from all four of us this time - and all attempts at getting engines from high to low were thrown out the window.

This story is funny in and of itself, but it was Punkin's commentary that simultaneously made the moment that much more memorable and also struck fear right to the gut:

"I'm going to write about dis in my jou-nal tomowoah. 'My sistuh tooted and it was smelly and we all laughed'".

Future blogger, people. I'm calling it right now.

Inspired

2011-10-08T20:29:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow morning while you're rolling out of bed, leisurely stretching stiff muscles and thinking about what you hope to accomplish throughout the day, I want your minds to go to my friends Alison and Maria. While we're enjoying the beautiful weather of this lovely Indian summer and participating in a day of rest as God intended, they'll be accomplishing a goal that many are afraid to ever attempt.

They will be running in their first marathon.

I can not begin to tell you how insanely proud of them I am for going after this daunting task. I wish I could be there to show my support, to cheer my ever loving head off as they pass by on their way to the finish line. They have logged hours and hours of training, pounded the pavement for an insane number of miles, braved inclement weather and made sacrifices all in an attempt to prepare their bodies for this demanding event.

Maria is running to raise aware for suicide prevention and running with the names of four who have gone before us and two more who continue to wage a difficult battle with depression on her back. One of those listed on her shirt is my childhood friend who passed away two years ago. Becky was a sprinter herself all through junior high and high school, and knowing she'll be running on Maria's back tomorrow afternoon means a lot to many who knew and loved Becky. I know those angel wings will help carrying her forward when the going gets tough. If you would like to support Maria's efforts with a donation to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention you can visit her page here.

Alison is one of my oldest friends and the person directly responsible for getting me off my lazy butt and back on the road. I would have never run the half-marathon last year without her gentle prodding and immense support. She always believed in me and in turn made me believe in myself, and when I look back on that accomplishment it's her I have to thank for making that dream a reality. She's not running for a specific cause, but I know her and can tell you that with every step she'll be running for her two boys, her daughter, and her husband more than anything else. Training for a marathon requires serious time commitment and how she found the drive to stick to her training program while simultaneously tending to the demands associated with being a wife and mother - making it look easy, nonetheless - is beyond inspiring.

Please join me in cheering them on tomorrow. They probably won't see this post before their race, but leave them an encouraging message and words of support.

Alison and Maria, tomorrow's race is yours to own. You have put in the training, now just run your race. You've already run twenty miles as part of your training . . . what's six (point two) more? Make friends with those running around you - they will help get you through those tough moments. Only let positive thoughts enter your head; there's no room for negativity when you are in the midst of glory. Pain is temporary, pride is forever, and toenails grow back eventually. And when things get really bleak find comfort in the fact that you have many people out there who believe in you. You are warriors and my own personal heroes.

Go get it, girls!

Things I Think Are Awesome: Coaler Pride Edition

2011-10-06T20:35:00.005-05:00

I know it will pain many to read that title and this accompanying blog post. Even now, fifteen years after my high school graduation, it feels a little wrong to even type it. It's true that The General and I were born and bred Trojans, and we have and always will hold the kelly green and white close to our hearts. Several years have passed though, years where we have since planted roots in this new community. Our daughters are now both enrolled in school here carrying with them through the ranks titles of Coal City High School Graduating Class of 2022 and 2024. It's time to let our Coaler Pride flag fly, and now is as good as time as any.

Here are a few random items I've declared as awesome this week, all tied together with a green and gold string:

1. In my last blog post, I complained about Shortcake's choice for a project for her A/E class. I realize in hindsight that the project really wasn't that big of a deal especially since The General carried the workload and I merely stood by as project manager. In a talk with Tru Stories on our walk to Dwight's homecoming game last week, she mentioned that Page Turner was envious of our district's offering of enrichment classes. It took that statement for me to realize that even though it might mean the occasional extra assignment, Shortcake is really lucky to be afforded this opportunity for academic growth. Oh, and in case you've been sitting on the edge of your seat for a look at the final product . . .

2. Today I was walking through the hallway at the Intermediate school (grades four and five). I heard music playing from one of our fifth grade classrooms, and as I walked past the room I realized the teacher was passing back tests to his class with the music providing the soundtrack. That music? It was the Top Gun Anthem. You know the one.

How awesome is that? Now, I realize that these born-in-the-early-2000s students probably have absolutely no idea what that song is or where it came from, but from now on I've made it my life's mission to play The Top Gun Anthem as background music to all moments - both poignant and trivial - in my life. Next time I am able to see the bottom of the basket containing all the clothes that need to be ironed? You can bet this song will be playing.

3. Last night, Punkin read The General a book. My child who I was convinced was going to be incapable of learning is already spelling and sounding out words. Sure, she has a significant portion of Go Dog Go memorized, and it's not like there is SAT worthy vocabulary contained between the covers but still. It's exciting to watch unfold, and if you ask me I will tell you that her kindergarten teacher is my own personal Anne Sullivan.

4. I love my school supplied iPad. I will admit that I was reluctant to buy into the hype when they were first released. I just didn't think it was all that. Sure, it looked flashy and admittedly I was a little awestruck at all it claimed to be able to do, but was it really that much better than my newly acquired (also school supplied) MacBook? I had my doubts. Even when one was placed in my hands last spring I was hesitant. But I am here to say that like DVR is to Tru Stories the iPad is to me. It's life changing. I have seen first hand the doors it has opened for students, the way it has changed how information is presented to classes and individuals alike, how accessible it has made the world from our relatively remote place in the world. It has given a voice to those who before had none and serves as an educational tool and extrinsic motivator to even the most reluctant students. Every day I'm learning new ways to incorporate it as part of my day, and I know I have barely even scratched the surface of what it is capable of doing. If I had the power (and money) I would put one in the hands of every school aged child in our country.

5. So this next one isn't really Coaler related, but it ties in to my iPad infatuation so I'm throwing it in here anyway. Plus, it is AWESOME. Why am I just now coming into the world of Google Docs? I have heard of its existence for some time, but I didn't really get it. Now, in the last three days? I'm a believer. Again, changing the way I do business, it is rocking my world this week. And yes, haters, I am fully aware of how I'm really revealing my inner nerd today. It's my salute to Steve Jobs, may his brilliant mind rest in peace.

6. You may have seen my plea on Facebook earlier this week, begging for votes for our school to be picked as this week's NBC prep destination. Thanks to those of you who indulged my request, Coal City set the three year record for number of votes received, and bright and early tomorrow morning (5:45 am, to be exact), the cameras of NBC Chicago will be focused on the Coal City and Manteno communities from our football stands. They will be sending live shots of a pep rally type atmosphere back to the studios in Chicago throughout their morning broadcast, so if you're awake tune in. You won't see any of the One Carbon Hill clan there (we value our beauty sleep and sanity), but we'll definitely be representing tomorrow night at the game.

7. And speaking of the home game tomorrow night, these two will be sporting looks similar to this:

This is their standard uniform on Green and Gold Fridays. I was forbidden to allow them to enter the grounds of Dwight Township High School last week wearing these clothes, but tomorrow night all four of us will be showing our Coaler Pride for the first time. Some of us will look a little fancier than the others.

8. Finally, Punkin was very excited to tell about what she is learning in science this week. Apparently, soon after being released from school, she explained to The General that she couldn't wait to go to school tomorrow. Why? Because tomorrow is the day they're putting "testicles" on a sea anemone. We like to expose our students to a variety of opportunities here in the double C.

Okay, I think I'm ready. Let the hateful words fly. Remind me how I've forgotten where I've come from. Chastise me for joining the Dark Side. It's okay. I think I can handle it.

School Projects Are Dumb

2011-09-29T19:05:00.002-05:00

A week or so before the start of this school year, a letter was delivered to our house announcing that Shortcake had been chosen to participate in the 2nd grade accelerated/enrichment program for reading and math. We were - and are - extremely proud of her for the hard work she puts forth during the school day, and maybe admittedly a little surprised that she qualified for the program especially for math (example: five minutes after opening the letter she turned to me and asked: "What's 4+4?"). As her parents we had to sign a permission form indicating that we agreed to enroll her in the program. The only hesitation presented by The General was this: "Does this mean more homework?". Which is the perfect segue into the next paragraph.

This afternoon Shortcake got out her homework and handed me a sheet of paper. "I have to pick one of these to do for A/E," she explained. Scanning the grid, I noticed eight options for extending their lesson on space. Let me give you a sampling of the activities my daughter has to choose from with my inner dialog commentary in parenthesis:

1. Read a book from the library about space and tell a friend about it. (So easy. Please choose this one. 20 minute time commitment tops with limited need for my direct involvement.)

2. Give an oral report to your class about your astronaut. (She's been talking in complete sentences since she was 18 months old. She was born for oral reports. Please choose this one.)

3. Make a 3D model of outer space. (Oh, dear God, no. Any of them but this one. I'm having flashbacks to my fifth grade state mobile project, and it's not a happy place.)

4. Write a short story about a dog from outer space. (What a perfect opportunity to fine tune her writing abilities. Creative writing clearly runs in the family so she could knock that one out in no time.)

5. Use puzzlemaker.com to make a word search of space words for your class (Yes. Winner winner chicken dinner. Five minutes and we're done. Make it happen, Shortcake).*

I will give you ten seconds and one guess as to which one she is adamant on completing by Monday morning.

The metamorphosis into a bonafide fully official mom should be complete sometime this weekend as I'm covered in paper mache up to my elbows, my mouth is spewing forth words not suitable for a child's sensitive ears, and I'm cursing the luck of spawning a smart kid. And just a quick straw poll: Do we include Pluto as a planet? It just feels wrong to leave it out.

School projects are so, so dumb. Holla atcha sista, MC!

*She did this one too. Just for fun, certainly not to turn in as the assignment. I see the Nerd Herd gaining a new member very, very soon.

Mawsha's Beauty Salon

2011-09-27T18:38:00.006-05:00

In true Gramma fashion, my mom has to make even the most mundane tasks of daily living significantly more exciting when they occur at her residence. You would like breakfast? Okay, but let's have chocolate milk instead of boring old nutritious white milk! You think forks are boring? Well then, by all means, please use these chopsticks to eat your dinner! You need a bath? I have an idea - let's turn this into a spa getaway!

Enter: Marsha's (or Mawsha's, depending on which child you're speaking with) Spa, where it's perfectly acceptable - and, in fact, encouraged - to address your grandmother by her first name. At Mawsha's, one customer is treated to a luxurious hair washing at the sink with the fancy faucet while lying prone on the kitchen counter; meanwhile, the other client is resting comfortably in a warm bath with ambient lighting courtesy of a lit candle. When each client is sufficiently cleaned or shampooed, they switch.

And on very special occasions, Mawsha decides to take the extravagance up a notch.

(Side note: these cucs were picked fresh from Mawsha's nearby garden. Punkin inadvertently picked a zucchini first. Rookie error.)

Following their cleansing routine, the girls are then draped in the finest linen dresses straight from the beaches of Mexico.

Honestly, have you ever seen a five and seven year old look so refreshed? Mawsha's beauty routine easily erased days off their face.

All I can say is live it up, buttercups, because this kind of ridiculousness will never happen at bath time at your house. Warm towels from the dryer on a chilly day is as far as your mother will bend. I would like to state for the record that while my mother is providing fun and memorable experiences for my daughters making her look like Woman of the Year, there's got to be something she lets slide. Clearly this photographic evidence demonstrates that thing must be housework, for two weeks after their last sleepover I noticed this hardened gum perched close to the bed where the girls sleep.

I can't help but wonder, two months later, if that gum might still be there. It would really make me feel a lot better about myself if it was.

I Am In Love

2011-09-22T22:08:00.001-05:00

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful

Isn't she precious
Less than ~~one minute~~ nine hours old

I never thought through love we'd be
Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love

Ella Elizabeth was born this morning catching almost all of us off guard. Knowing something the rest of us didn't, my brother predicted this would be his little girl's birthday months ago. The number 22 is one of his favorite numbers and is also the number corresponding to the year that one of Ella's great grandfathers - a man very important to her daddy - was born. Her beautiful first name is a tribute to that man's wife, Ella's Great Grandma Bolen, another very influential person in her daddy's life. Miss Ella weighed in at seven pounds, nine ounces and is a healthy 19.5 inches long. She has a head covered in reddish blond hair with light colored eyelashes to match. She shares her mama's middle name and looks just like her too. Her initials - EEP - are the same as her completely smitten daddy. Everyone is doing great, albeit understandably exhausted, and it is clear already that Poke and Care Bear are going to make a great parenting team.

I got the call from my brother announcing her arrival just after 10 am this morning. I was like a caged animal in my room at school, not all that successfully holding back tears of happiness and literally shaking with excitement. Knowing there was no way I could leave before the end of the school day, I tried to keep my mind occupied on anything other than my new baby niece. I decided not to tell the girls that their new baby cousin had arrived and instead explained we were taking a rare weekday trip south, taking advantage of our night off of soccer to have dinner with Gramma and Papa in Bloomington. Even though I left out some key details the statement was based in truth. This was the girls' reactions in the parking garage of the hospital when I finally revealed the news. Oblivious until the very end.

Being experts at this whole cousin thing already, they took to Ella immediately. Initially Punkin was a little freaked out by "that thing on her belly" and in the car she claimed that her new cousin was "a little whiny" (so not true, the babe barely made a peep the entire time we were there, but I think Punkin is already practicing placing blame now that there's a new kid in town), but she was VERY quick to ask to hold Ella. She has made it very clear, however, that she will absolutely NOT be assisting with diaper changes.

Shortcake looked like a pro handling her infant cousin for the first time. I foresee great battles between Shortcake and me in the very near future where we fight over holding rights of Miss Ella Bella. If I can guarantee anything it's that Ella will not be able to make a move without her older cousin hovering over her like a protective mini-mommy.

This picture simply makes my heart happy.

As for me, I am completely, absolutely, without a doubt, 100% infatuated with this little girl. I could not get enough of her, shamelessly loving on her while others were forced to stand by and watch my embarrassing display of love. I took her out of the arms of my father, my children, and I think at one point even the new mommy. She is like crack - it only took one hit of being near her and I was instantly addicted.

Walking out of that hospital room to let the new parents get some much needed rest and important bonding time as a new family of three was, for me, absolutely depressing. It sounds ridiculous but after only an hour and a half with my precious niece I felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. I had no idea it was possible to love another person's child as much as I do her. She owns me already, and I have hereby committed to make it my life's mission to spoil her completely rotten.

And if my love for her wasn't enough, there's also a very proud Gramma and Papa ready to give her the world as well. They've had seven years of practice and although I think one of them is a little stressed as to how he's going to spread the love evenly among three, I have no doubts little Ella will have him wrapped around her finger as quickly and tightly as the two before her.

Oh, my little Ella E. I love you so much and am so happy that you are finally here. Thank you, Erik and Cari, for making me an aunt again. It is an honor and easily one of my favorite roles in life. I am so happy for you and can't wait to watch as you begin this next adventure.

A Reintroduction Of Sorts

2011-09-20T06:30:00.001-05:00

I realized the other day that it's been quite some time since some of the supporting cast of the One Carbon Hill clan has received blog time, and since we were all together last Sunday I took that opportunity to take a few snapshots to quickly update you on the whereabouts and goings on of The Cousins.

May I reintroduce you to . . .

1. Relish (age 15. Sophomore in high school, member of the swim team, marching band, and active in the FFA. Loving big sister, devoted oldest cousin, too grown up for my liking but it's fun having her a now active participant in the "big girl" conversations.)

2. The White Tornado (age 11.5. One of the founding members of the four we fondly refer to as The Nerd Herd. Baseball player, lover of Star Wars. Rarely seen around the house at family functions unless it's time to eat.)

3. Vince (age 11.5. Co-founder of The Nerd Herd and the only Green Bay fan in the family. We keep him around because he's entertaining and helps keep an eye on our girls when Relish isn't around. Playing tackle football for the first time this year, and his knowledge of NFL players may soon surpass that of his uncle.)

4. Elizabeth Taylor (age 10. Talkative is a good adjective for this girl. Only female member of The Nerd Herd [although there are three little girls patiently waiting in queue for their membership cards], she loves fiercely and wears her heart on her sleeve.)

5. George (age 9. Rounds out The Nerd Herd and like his older brother plays tackle football in his leisure time. When he feels like relaxing, he can be found wearing off beat pajamas to family functions. Picture partially buttoned up flannel pajamas worn in a style reminiscent of Burt Reynolds circa 1982 by winter, Spiderman man-pris by summer.)

6. Shortcake (age 7. Sweet, compassionate, deep thinker, emotions bubble up when you least expect it, snuggler, is devastated when she misses an opportunity to spend time with her friends, loves her cousins to pieces.)

7. Little Miss (age 5.5. Sassy, spunky, and I'll go ahead and say the in-house comedienne in her family. There have been very few times that I have been around this little girl without hearing her do or say something that is unexpectedly and unintentionally hilarious. Has grown out of her thankles with only a touch of residual emotional scarring.)

8. Punkin (age 5. Independent, entertaining, unpredictable, drama queen, fancy pants. Is happiest when adorned with jewels, shoes that make clicking noises when walking across hardwood floors, and mismatched clothing which she picks out on her own.)

9. Rueben (age 3.5. Alternate blog name Wii Man, self appointed due to his addiction to any system with a screen. If there is a twelve step program for such an ailment please let his parents know. Already reading, he's the family's best bet for fame and riches. Now that Steve Jobs has stepped down, it's one small step to overtake Bill Gates and the world will be his to own.)

10. Star (age 1. Sweet as can be with a smile that lights up a room. This petite little girl doesn't have to go far before she's swooped up by someone ready to love on her, smothering her with hugs, kisses, and zerberts for good measure. She's easy to love, and I want to steal her.)

So there they are, the Terrific Ten. Full of life and love, making me grateful with every gathering that our girls are surrounded by cousins who love each other from start to finish.

Oh, and in case you weren't paying attention . . .

. . . I'm currently accepting submissions for additional blog names. YAY!

Signs Already Indicate She Has Inherited Her Father's Stubbornness. Lord Help Her Mother.

2011-09-19T19:58:00.003-05:00

This afternoon, my sister-in-law Cari sent me a text message with updated news on Pebbles Watch 2011. I live for Baby Pebbles updates. This was our first glimpse of sweet baby girl, taken at six weeks. Nothin' but a little jelly bean baby baking in her mama's belly.

And here's the cute mommy-t0-be at eight weeks. Let's all marvel at Cari's enviable obliques.

What a difference 30 weeks makes! I can tell you one thing: it is nearly impossible for me to keep my hands away from Cari's belly. I can restrain myself for only so long, but as soon as Cari mentions Baby P is on the move, my hand is there before I can even stop myself. Pebbles and I bonded one night late spring/early summer during her evening kick and roll fest. I could hardly stand it for the excitement of it all.

We hit Harvest Days briefly on Saturday for a little shopping, walking, and funnel cake & lemon shake-up eating in hopes of getting this little girl moving to no avail. Baby Pebbles' home is more than ready for her arrival. Her room is dripping in pink from every possible surface, the closet and drawers are stocked with the most adorable clothes, and headband & bows sitting waiting to adorn her precious little head.

Then again, "little" appears to be a relative term. Sounds like Baby Pebbles is prepared to follow the lead of generations of Poke babies before her - not one that I can think of have been born under eight pounds. Thinking for eight months that she would make her arrival by Harvest Days weekend at the latest, I am now in Baby Watch overdrive. You can find me checking my phone obsessively and leaping like a jaguar toward the phone anytime it rings.

As anxious as I am to meet my newest niece, I can only imagine the excitement and anticipation that my brother and sister-in-law are experiencing. I know Cari is exhausted and uncomfortable and just overall done being pregnant, but all of that will quickly fade when she finally, finally gets to hold her sweet baby girl in her arms. Let's all take a moment to send her some positive vibes to get her through these last few days.

While you're doing that, I'm going to do my part my making sure I have enough gas in my car, camera batteries charged, and her baby gift prepped to grab as I run out the door so that I'm ready at a moment's notice once the call comes in. I'm also going to subliminally send some messages of my own to Sweet P filled with loving words and only the hint of a threatening tone in an attempt to get her here A-SAP. I can be patient for only so long.

Because She's My Kid And This Is My Blog And I Feel Like Bragging, Okay?

2011-09-13T16:47:00.001-05:00

Seriously. So proud of this girl.

Grading period:  Q1
Student:  Last name, Shortcake G

08/26/11 "Spelling list 1 - short vowels"  Grade: A+ (108/100=108%)
09/02/11 "Spelling list 2"  Grade: A+ (102/100=102%)
09/09/11 "Spelling list 3"  Grade: A (96/100=96%)

08/26/11 "Citizenship Flag"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
08/30/11 "Rule vs. Law posters"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
09/08/11 "Participation Q-1"  Grade: A+ (85/85=100%)
09/11/11 "Community Poster"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)

09/02/11 "Scientific Process and Safe Practices"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)

08/29/11 "Page 18 - Review Short Vowels"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
08/30/11 "Page 16 or 19 High Frequency Words"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
09/01/11 "Going into Space"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
09/02/11 "Exploring Space Selection Test"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
09/06/11 "Page 28"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)
09/09/11 "Henry & Mudge Selection Test"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)

08/26/11 "week 1"  Grade: A+ (6/6=100%)
09/02/11 "week 2"  Grade: A+ (7/6=116.67%)
09/09/11 "week 3"  Grade: A+ (6/6=100%)
09/09/11 "Medieval Music Unit Performance test"  Grade: A+ (50/50=100%)

9/08/11 "Basic Facts 1"  Grade: A+ (100/100=100%)

On an unrelated note, Powerschool and its ability to send me updates anytime new grades are entered makes my inner helicopter parent very, very happy.

Whoa

2011-09-12T21:36:00.000-05:00

So, someone remind me. How does this whole "blogging" thing work okay? Seems when you're gone for seven thousand years it's almost like you forget how to do it. And this I've discovered right quick: being busy thereby keeping you away from posting somewhat regularly really, in the end, is a lot harder than just squeezing in a quick 10 minute blog post every couple of days. Because, really. How am I supposed to remember what we've been filling our days and nights with since the start of school?

I suppose pictures would probably be a solid start.

When the girls and I are not spending time behind the doors of one of the five schools in our little district, your next best bet for locating us would be on the soccer fields adjacent to the elementary school. Practice two nights a week with games on Saturday mornings have turned this once anti-soccer family into a I-guess-it's-alright-but-that-doesn't-mean-we-have-any-better-understanding-of-the rules-of-soccer family. Shortcake's team is sitting at a dismal record of 1-2-1, although that doesn't seem to phase her. If you watch our girl out on the field she appears to be having absolutely no fun at all, but she's just happy to be out there with her peers. She could really care less about the whole "playing to win" or "putting forth a great deal of effort" thing. The one thing she does have going for her is that she is most certainly one of the cutest girls out there, and I don't care who you are that always counts for something.

Punkin's team is sitting at 3-0-1 (I think?), and thanks to a coach who is equal parts dedicated, competitive, compassionate, and intense her learning curve for the game has grown dramatically. In the past two weeks especially I've seen quite the athlete emerge in this little fireball. Granted, she still trips over the ball at least twice per practice, but this is a large improvement over the ten to twelve self-imposed stumbles seen in the initial weeks. She has a passion for playing goalie, and although initially I was not excited about her taking a spot in that high stakes position she actually does quite well there. Girl's got some speed too when she wants to turn it on (e.g., if her coach has offered candy as an incentive). On the downside, when playing against a classmate she spends a great deal of the game encouraging her opponent to play more to his potential at a very Punkin-esque volume (read: LOUD. And slightly THREATENING), and she still has not mastered the concept of getting in front of someone when the ball is stolen. She prefers to throw her head back and trot very slowly after the mass surrounding the ball instead.

As is always the case in life, there's a lesson in every adventure whether you're an active participant or a passive observer. And what I've learned in my short tenure as a soccer mom is that I have the potential to be as loud as my own mom was while cheering for her children during sporting events. It was bound to happen. Should either of our girls join the track team it could be embarrassing for us all.

In school news, Shortcake and Punkin are currently kicking second grade's and kindergarten's you-know-whats respectively. After a rough first full day where she declared her homework as too hard and then proceeded to ugly cry it out while huddled in my lap wiping snot on me from shoulder to elbow , Shortcake found her groove and hasn't looked back. She loves her teacher, is making new friends, and is generally appearing more grown up with every passing minute. She has been invited to participate in the school's accelerated/enrichment program this year, an honor for which her dad and I are incredibly proud. This girl's brain never stops turning - sometimes for better, other times for worse - and I'm never surprised when a teacher approaches me to tell me how much they enjoy having her in their class. I mean, who doesn't love spending time in the presence of this beautiful soul?

Punkin, although she will make you try to believe otherwise, L-O-V-E-S kindergarten. If I could clone her teacher and find a way to ensure that Punkin could get her at every single level I would do it in a heartbeat. Perhaps you picked up on this already, but I'll admit that I was more that a little fearful that Punkin would face challenges in school. So far it appears as though I was a fool for ever holding any doubts. Punkin comes home every single day singing a new song about appropriate behavior, showing off important foundational reading skills like nobody's business, and generally blowing me away with her eagerness for completing her 10 minute homework assignments each night. I know you're all very eagerly awaiting the stories that start something like "You'll never believe what Punkin did in kindergarten today..."; I hate to disappoint you, but to my knowledge she's just been a regular ol' rule abiding, polite, model student. Hang in there though. A girl with this much spunk can not keep it reigned in forever.

The General had a very busy end to August, working while we were home, sleeping while we were at school, and spending two weekends in a row away from home for the majority of the day tending to daunting duties involving golf clubs and fantasy football drafting. In an attempt to pass the time while he was away, the girls and I tried to keep busy with trips to the mall, a car show in our little park, and the zoo.

Speaking of The General, he is slowly making a recovery from The Sinus Infection From Hell. A trip to the ER and his inaugural CT scan, multiple prescriptions, and a week off of work all combined to keep him home and, as his doctor's note stated, "incapacitated". Thus, I attended my 15 year class reunion solo. Behold, roughly 15% of the Class of 1996. Fifteen years, several pounds, multiple children, loads of laughs, and a few court orders later.

Luckily, The General rallied by Sunday afternoon so that he could participate in his second fantasy draft of the season.

(PS - This guy's baby is still baking, and I'm starting to get annoyed. Come on, Baby P! Your mama is uncomfortable, and Auntie Mrs. is ready for some newborn baby snuggling. I've kept all Uncle General's germs as far from me as possible as a precaution so I'll be ready to meet you at a moment's notice.)

But then, just when he thought he had made it out of the woods, the virus decided to give him a second go-round by Wednesday afternoon. He spent the majority of this past weekend on the couch (which, let's admit it, would have happened anyway thanks to NFL kickoff weekend), and he's gone through more Kleenex in two weeks time than I ever thought possible. I normally like to tell anyone who will listen what a huge baby my husband is when he's sick, but even I have to admit that this go 'round has been legit. I was able to sleep though the last two nights soundly without being woken up by the sound of mucous gurgling in his nose/throat/sinuses (I like to paint pictures with my words; you're welcome for the visual), so here's to hoping that he's finally on the road to recovery.

Okay, let's see. I have no doubts that I'm missing gaping holes and very important details in the daily happenings here at Casa de One Carbon Hill. Alas, I have no other pictures documenting our adventures and frankly, my interest in this post in waning as I feel the need to check in on my own fantasy team's performance (Mrs. Mayhem, back in action. Ya heard?), do some research on social behaviors (i.e., creep on Facebook), and squeeze in a little work-from-home duties.

Until we meet again, hopefully sometime before Halloween...

Still Alive

2011-09-01T22:08:00.001-05:00

Some of us just barely. Busy with soccer and other after school hours shenanigans. Exhausted. Like the kind you can feel deep in your bones. Recovering slowly from a knock-you-on-your-ass sinus infection. That's where the just barely alive thing comes into play. Collapsing into bed early or just plain near brain dead at the end of the night to put fingers to the keyboard in hopes of sharing coherent thoughts. That pretty much sums up life here in The Hill. Hang in there. I'll be back in the saddle one of these days. But right now? I've got a date with my pillow.

And They're Off

2011-08-22T20:53:00.002-05:00

A second grader and a kindergartner. Someone please explain to me how this is even possible.
Friday morning saw the start of Shortcake's second grade year. The night before she and I spent 40 minutes snuggled up together in her bed, fighting back tears in tandem with varying levels of success, me doing my best to offer words of encouragement and peaceful thoughts while she tried her hardest to turn off her always turning brain in an effort to let her fears and worries subside. She woke up the next morning - just after dawn, her face as bright as the sun - excited about the day ahead. All worries seemed to be left behind as she skipped through her morning routine and waited joyfully for the ride to her new school.

We picked up her friend after leaving our house on the way to school; they were chatterboxes the entire ride, and there was no sign of fear anywhere on Shortcake's face as I left her outside her classroom door. The only smile bigger than the one she gave me as I walked away was the one on her face when she walked in my room at the end of the day.

With Friday morning slated for kindergarten orientation, Punkin's official first day of school was today. Leading up to the first day of school, she has been noticeably less enthusiastic about the start of her formal education career than her older sister was at that age, but you would have never known it by the bounce in Punkin's step at 6:30 this morning. She sailed through her morning "jobs" and walked around the house with backpack in place a solid ten minutes before we were scheduled to leave.

Both girls giggled and talked the entire ride to Punkin's school, something I was grateful for as it kept my mind off the fact that I was about to drop my baby off in the (completely capable and loving) hands of a virtual stranger. Even with that distraction, though, the poem her teacher had given to us as part of our orientation packet kept running through my head during the short drive. It was a special form of torture - a sweet gesture that left me almost breathless with sadness at the thought of her growing up so fast.

The First Day
I gave you a little glance and smile
As you came into my room today
For I know how hard it is to leave
And to know your child must stay
You've been with her for five years now
And have been a loving guide
But now, alas, the time has come
To leave her at my side
For as a parent I too know
How quickly the years do pass
And it has also been my turn
To take my child to class
Just know that as you drive away
As tears down your cheeks may flow
I'll love her as I do my own
And help her learn and grow
So please put your mind at ease
And cry those tears no more
For I will love her and take her in
When you leave her at my door

Once at the school, there was nothing to stop the tears from falling as I leaned in for one last hug and kiss before I left her sitting in her class line in the gym. "I'm so proud of you, Lainey," I whispered to her through tears. "Be a good listener, be nice to your friends, and have fun today. I love you so much." I'm not sure she even heard my entire message. She was too busy ignoring me, trying to take her place in line like we had talked about her doing all weekend long.

I received a perfectly timed email from her teacher this afternoon with the encouraging subject line titled "She's doing great!". A very kind friend put a bug in her teacher's ear that Punkin's mom was a little worried about her, and Punkin's sweet teacher took the time to email me to let me know that there had been a smile on Punkin's face all day long. That one short email made my heart soar with happiness.

Everyone tells you when you have a baby to enjoy every minute because it goes by so fast. As the parent of a newborn hearing that sentiment over and over gets a little obnoxious, but my God it's so true. In the blink of an eye they go from newborn to kindergartner, second grader to graduate. The rumor is that once both kids get into school the time goes by even faster, and the realization that this can only be true makes my heart ache. I love them so much, and it kills me that I'm either too busy, too tired, or too something to enjoy every second of who they are right now, in this exact moment.

Ugh, the first day of school makes me sappier than a Hallmark card writer with extreme PMS. It gets easier, right? Please tell me it gets easier . . .

Like Sands Through The Hourglass

2011-08-16T20:42:00.002-05:00

. . . so are the days of my summer break.

Tomorrow morning at 8 am the school bell rings for me once again. It's back to work I go with Shortcake following me two days later. Punkin's first official day of school doesn't start until next Monday, but with a kindergarten orientation scheduled for 9:30 am Friday it sort of feels like we're all getting into the swing of Back to School. I'm already engaging in my annual back-to-school-panic about how, exactly, I'm going to manage everyone's schedule while also keeping people fed, bathed, nurtured, rested, and generally sane. With two girls in school and after school activities I anticipate this yearly ritual might occur with more frequency than previous years. WHEEE!

I feel like I'm in a state of denial that the summer is behind us already. June passed by in the blink of an eye. July's mind melting heat created a hallucinogenic mirage like memory of that month's activities. August was a mad dash of last minute fun and frantic school prep. I know how blessed I am to have this opportunity to spend two and a half months at home with my girls, and I tried to capitalize on every opportunity that presented itself this year. There were no exotic vacations; we actually didn't travel more than a hour away, and most of our daily adventures took place within 30 miles of our house. We spent a lot of time by the water and our tans definitely reflect that. There was plenty of bonding with family and friends, and time spent vegging at home when we needed a break. No matter what we did each day, though, I went to bed each night grateful for that day's adventures.

Now, it's time for a new set of adventures to begin. Here's to hoping that this summer's lazy days have left me recharged, energized, and ready to tackle the 2011-2012 school year.

If I Had A (Few) Million Dollars

2011-08-11T10:32:00.008-05:00

I'd buy a houseboat.

Two weeks ago today we were dropping off the girls at The MC compound, packing two vehicles to capacity with coolers, food, beverages, bedding, swimsuits, and beach towels, and preparing for three days of floating on Lake Shelbyville. As much as I love the girls and our daily adventures, there is no better weekend of the summer for me than the one that I get to spend with my husband and friends free of any mommy duties. I used to feel guilty about that, but now I realize those few days away give me a much needed end-of-summer boost designed to keep me from eating one or both of them alive. They are sweet and wonderful and precious, but we all reaching our breaking point. Seventy some days together makes the three of us a little tense, and I know the girls enjoy the time away spent with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents as much as we do.

The agenda on the boat is pretty simple: eat, drink, float, jump, laugh. Rinse and repeat over 72 hours.

We experienced our first on-the-water thunderstorm Friday night. It has rained every single year of our house boat adventures, but this was the first year to have thunder and lightning. Luckily the storm blew in after we had already retreated to the indoors for the evenings and although Saturday was overcast we managed to avoid rain delays on our water activities during the day.

My brother brought his boat out late Saturday afternoon for a visit. His boat matched ours perfectly (it's important to coordinate, you know), and it was quick to see that his water vessel was the attention grabber on the lake. He took me out for a ride from one cove to another, and he was flagged over for inquiries no less than four times. He should be really proud of the work he did on his boat. I felt like a celebrity riding in it!

It's no secret that we own whatever cove it is where we choose to drop anchor. Dubbed the SS Orangejello, the bright orange color of the boat was a definite plus in the "eye catcher" category, and our smuggled on speaker system once again drew the masses toward us. Unfortunately, in our case the masses included:

two boats of drunks ten years younger than us who basically took over the top deck of our boat for somewhere around seven hours. One of the guys was a co-worker of one of our passengers thereby granting them initial permission to board, but I don't think any of us anticipated them literally pulling their boats over to ours to tie up. We also didn't anticipate them going topless, bottomless, peeing over the top front deck, dropping a fumigation worthy mega deuce in our bathroom (twice), and quite possibly fornicating via the buoyancy support of noodles a few feet from the back of our boat. Talk about not knowing how to spell "class"! We really just allowed them to stay as long as we did because although they were ten years are junior and had yet to begin their childbearing years, the five woman of the SS Orangejello (13 children collectively, for the record) still looked better in swim suits than they did.
more uncovered boobs, these of the middle aged saggy variety. I was distracted by those though thanks to the boat mate sporting a royal blue speedo. Work it!
even more exposed skin. It was the summer of nudity, apparently, although this version came in the form of what we assumed was bordering on illegal activity. Intimate relations between a man easily in his 70s and a girl who couldn't be much over 20? You can't unsee that.
Muskrats, two huge schools of minnows, and a plethora of bluegill feasting on chicken marinade that may have been thrown over the side of the boat. The offending litterer learned a valuable lesson: oil heavy liquid food products do no dissipate in a lake as well as you might anticipate.

The General also learned a valuable lesson on our houseboat weekend. A lifelong friendship left him confident in his decision to push a very reluctant (and freshly showered) Angie into the water.

She was less than amused by his boldness and designed a plan for retaliation over the following 18 hours. A cooler filled with ice cold water over the unsuspecting head proved to be sweet revenge.

I've spent several moments of the last two weeks dreaming of being back on that boat. The water, the sun, the soft breeze, the lack of responsibility . . . I'll be counting down the days until we meet again!

I Never Claimed To Be A Rugged Outdoorsmen

2011-08-10T13:37:00.000-05:00

Since our last backyard camp out, the girls have been asking for a return to the great outdoors for a night of sleeping under the stars. I, for one, refuse to voluntarily sleep outside when the nighttime low hovers around 80 degrees and/or the humidity doesn't dip below 70%. I might be crazy, but I'm not that crazy. With a forecast calling for lows near 60 degrees, I figured last night would be as good as any to set up the tent one more time.

Soccer practice has started up again, and thanks to that and a couple other semi-related reasons it was nearly 8:30 before we ate supper and close to 10 pm before we tucked ourselves into our sleeping bags. Punkin fell asleep instantly while Shortcake tossed and turned for nearly 30 minutes. A little after 10:30, The General arrived home and came out to bring a water bottle per Shortcake's request at which time she woke up and declared she'd rather sleep inside leaving her sister and mother alone in the wilderness of our backyard.

My eyes haven't seen the back of my eyelids before midnight since the start of summer (with the exception of a few mid-afternoon naps here and there), so I played a few games on my phone while waiting for Mr. Sandman to call. Not long after The General and Shortcake retreated into the house, I started hearing this loud fluttering sound. I sat listening for a minute and decided that it was definitely the sound of bat wings. When the sound became much more frequent, I deduced that no bat would be flying that close or that frequently. Instead I hypothesized that the cicada we saw hatching on the nearby tree truck must have freed itself from its shell and was attempting to fly just outside the tent. Time continued to pass as did the sound of the fluttering, and I became more and more annoyed as it sounded like it was moving so close it could have actually been inside the tent. My scaredy senses started to move toward overdrive, and that's right about the time any tough girl persona I was holding on to escaped.

To give you a perspective on its size, our tent was advertised to fit four people, but the two girls and I take up the entire space. Punkin was laying comfortably to my right; on my left was an empty space previously occupied by Shortcake. Just as I was reaching total annoyance with this stupid cicada and its new wings, the fluttering stopped and was replaced instead with the sound of a low but distinct growl. Now, it has been well documented here that our yard has been host to a variety of animals - raccoons, rabbits, moles, deer, opossums, skunks, fox, and coyotes in the nearby field - so you can imagine that my mind went wild with the possibilities for what was prowling around a mere foot from my head. Seconds after that primal sound escaped what I immediately assumed was a rabid beast, I heard an even more pronounced sound of the animal sniffing. SNIFFING. Like it might do when sizing up it's NEXT MEAL.

So, naturally, I did what any rational adult saddled with the task of protecting her young child from the fangs of a wild animal would do. I grabbed my cell phone, called into the house, and demanded that The General end his game of Angry Birds prematurely and come out to inspect whatever in the hell was trying to eat us. "Are you serious?," he said to me. "Yes, I am serious," I told him very matter of factly.

Minutes later he sauntered outside armed with no more than a flashlight, mild annoyance at his pansy ass wife, and fifteen years of correctional officer related fight training. A quick trip around the tent revealed any predator had since abandoned his mission for human consumption; a "well, since you're here" description of the mad cicada fluttering also failed to produce any visual results. When I insisted that I could still hear the sound and that it sounded like it was coming from inside the tent, The General stuck his head inside and for the first time I shined my flashlight on the place from which the sound was originating.

Did you know that in the dark of night when a light breeze blows under the uncovered floor of a tent the sound of that floor resting back on the tall grass underneath it sound exactly like the fluttering of cicada wings? I won't judge, because until last night I didn't realize this either.

The General walked away bidding me a good night's sleep, perhaps muttering something about "crazy" but I can't be sure, while I laughed at the hijinxs of the evening. Soon after I drifted off to sleep with the night's cool air carrying me on a cloud toward dream land, reaffirming that I am no Bear Grylls and perhaps my chance of winning a million dollars on Survivor might be a little further away than I thought.

Musical Musings

2011-08-09T08:44:00.001-05:00

Music, and more specifically the music our children listen to, has been a frequent topic of discussion among my mom friends this summer. We are long past the stage of nursery rhymes in our house and although our girls will still rock a mean jam session to Strawberry Shortcake and various Disney Channel soundtracks we are definitely moving into the realm of them playing DJ from the backseat with demands for more mainstream selections.

Currently, the girls are loving anything by Ke$ha, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, or The Black Eyed Peas. And why not? They seem likely perfectly suitable role models, don't you think?

I'm partly to blame. Seven years of listening to saccharine sweet wholesome kid songs will drive a person crazy especially in the confined space of the car on an hour long drive. Thus, I'm quick to turn up the volume and belt out some lyrics to some of my favorites songs, both old and new. I can't help it that the above artists also appeal to me (in direct contrast to my husband's hard rock and alternative musical palette, I assure you). I'm also guilty of being notoriously bad at paying attention to lyrics outside of the chorus. I like a song not so much for the message but for the beat or just the sound of the music itself. There have been more than one occasion where I don't even realize there are words that are not appropriate for five and seven year old ears until either The General points it out or I hear one of the girls use them as they're singing along. Yesterday's example: Shortcake singing "looking sick and sexified". Oops - Ke$ha's potty mouth strikes again.

I've tried to supplement the more inappropriate songs and artists with "kid friendly" options. Justin Bieber is on that play list for reasons obvious to those of you who know Punkin, and I'll even admit that his song Somebody to Love has won me over. If he's going to be supporting my youngest daughter and their children some day (you know, after they're joined in holy matrimony as Punkin is certain is going to happen as soon as he loses that Selena Gomez chick) I should probably start trying to be supportive of his career, right? In addition to the before mentioned Disney related songs from movies and television, Bob Marley's Three Little Birds gets frequent play time in my car. My new favorite suggestion came from a friend who talked about adding a Kidz Bop station via Pandora on her iPhone. In my most recent effort, I attempted to infuse a little more country into their lives during our drive to El Paso yesterday. Within the first five seconds on two separate songs Punkin made her displeasure known with shouts of "Disgusting!" and "BOOOO!". I suppose I should take her lead on those opinions considering a song that encourages girls to shake it for the young bucks sitting' in the honky tonks isn't exactly the best message to pass along to my impressionable daughters either.

When I get overly concerned with what I'm doing to my daughters based what is becoming the soundtrack of their youth, I just remind myself that I grew up idolizing one of my own generation's most questionable pop stars and turned out okay in the end. Initially introduced to Madonna after an afternoon of musical discovery at my friend Lori's house, my parents bought me the Like A Virgin cassette the following Christmas - a very memorable and well received gift, I assure you. This was a huge departure from the Elvis and John Denver eight tracks that provided the background music in our house up until that moment, and at seven years old I'm surprised my mom went along with my gift request. I vividly remember her asking me if I knew what "virgin" meant. I guess maybe I'll just take her lead and let my girls discover what makes their ears happy.

So far *knock on wood* we have not had any embarrassing moments where offensive words have been repeated or asked for clarification (with the exception of Shortcake asking "What does 'go to hell' mean?" I totally dropped the push-next-ball on that one). I know that time is coming, but for now I'm just going to play the "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it" game. In the meantime I'm taking suggestions from you for kid friendly songs that won't make me want to stick a fork in my ears.

And just so you know, after being told by Punkin that I sound exactly like Olivia Newton John while I'm singing along to "You're the One That I Want", I'm already all over downloading the rest of the Grease soundtrack so you can save yourself time by eliminating that suggestion.

Hello?

2011-08-08T13:14:00.003-05:00

It's come to my attention that my recent unintentional blogging hiatus has left a few loyal readers (i.e., my mom) concerned with the general well being of the One Carbon Hill four. I first want to assure any of you who might be similarly questioning the physical & emotional health of my family that we are all well. Tan, sassy, occasionally disgruntled, and on-the-go as ever. I guess there's only so many ways I can blog about a day spent inside trying to beat the heat or outside soaking up sun and sand while sitting on the beach. No sense in boring you with the same story over and over, right?

The General and I were talking last night about the upcoming week's activities, and I mentioned that I should probably blog again at some point to which he replied, "Yeah, I think your readers have missed you." Again, aside from my mother, I wondered if this was indeed the case. Even when I did blog this summer commenting was down; I wasn't surprised by this considering summer lends itself to less time in front of a computer and more times outdoors.

So on this return post, I want to know: who's still out there? Let's do a good old fashioned roll call. Leave me a comment so I know you've hung in there, and tell us what you've been up to this summer. I'm ready to reconnect.

Where Oh Where Has One Carbon Hill Gone?

2011-07-26T20:39:00.006-05:00

An insane week long heat wave, days spent recovering at home after long nights on the town, birthday parties, family bonding time, another week of swim lessons . . . that about sums up the goings on at OCH over the past week. This has been without a doubt the fastest summer of all time, passing by in the blink of an eye. We've really done absolutely nothing of great excitement over the past 60 days yet it seems like we've been moving non-stop since the start of summer break in moment after moment of fun. Here's a peek at some of the activities that we take part in since my last post.

1. Attempts at skiing, tubing, and swimming at the club with friends (twice).

2. Birthday party festivities for two of the sweetest kids you'll ever meet.

3. Boating on the river with friends. It was here that we realized quite quickly that this heat advisory meteorologists had been forecasting was no joke. Heat index in the triple digits with a UV index of "stay in the house, fool"? Yes, let's spend eight hours on the water!

4. Another week of swim lessons with the final outcome of two very happy girls promoted to the next level. The difference in their swimming skills - especially Shortcake - was quite evident. Way to go, girls!

5. During the week when half of the country turned into the Sahara Desert, we spent the majority of our time indoors. Trips to the dollar theater for a viewing of Rio, naps, TV time, and play-doh helped pass the time. Half way through the week The General catered to the girls' request of learning to play a new board game. Over the course of three days the girls learned the pain of parting with money, the art of trading, and the glory of bleeding their father dry one well placed property at a time.

6. Girls night out with my sisters-in-law. Pedicures, Mexican food & margaritas, and lots of laughs. I only wish we could do it more often!

7. Splashtastic day at Splash Valley Aquatic Center with friends and family.

9. Lots and lots of trips to various bathroom facilities. During the summer one thing is certain: when you surround yourself with water based activities, if Punkin is along you will spend a significant portion of your day standing outside a bathroom stall.

And as you can see, we spend a lot of time participating in water based activities. Punkin likes to be prepared at all times in case a call to water comes when we least expect it.

Seven Lucky Years With You

2011-07-14T10:58:00.000-05:00

July 14, 2011

Dear McKenna,

Today is your birthday, lucky number seven. Seven years on this Earth making each day a little brighter, 2,556 days that have allowed you the opportunity to share your sweet spirit with those who surround you, 61,344 hours worth of giggles and hugs. In honor of this birthday, I thought I'd share with you seven of the reasons that make you so incredibly special and uniquely you, seven traits that I am so lucky to be in your presence every single day.

Your loving heart is, for me, the most defining part of your personality. I've said it again and again in my birthday letters to you, but more than anything else your capacity to love is what I think of first when I'm asked to describe who you are. You are accepting of everyone and so incredibly compassionate toward humans and animals alike. In the past few weeks you've really started to groom those pre-readiness babysitting skills, taking care of friends and family members in the toddler set as much as a seven year is capable. Sometimes that gentle nature becomes a bit stifling for those little ones; we've had some talks recently about how even two year olds like their personal space and don't always have to be picked up and carried especially by someone who's not all that much bigger than they are. You love openly and fully without asking for anything except some reciprocal snuggling. Your heart is so full and with your sweet spirit you fill the heart of others in return.

Again in a recurring theme to who you are, your eagerness to learn continues to astound me. You had a fantastic first grade year and with every report from Miss Terrel your daddy and I swelled with pride at how well you were doing in the classroom. You love to read and are most excited to learn "times" in second grade. Your learning extended beyond the walls of the classroom though. You played soccer for the first time last fall and even though you showed more interest in what was happening on the sidelines as opposed to the field, you put your attitude of perseverance and dedication to work in an effort to do better with each practice and game. Asking questions is still one of your favorite past times. Uncomfortably for me, it seems as though in recent weeks you are seeking answers to questions of a more delicate nature. The "where do babies come from" and "how do babies get out of their mommies' tummies" are just two of the questions that have surfaced since the start of summer. Your Gramma, says that some of the most important conversations between her and I took place over the kitchen sink while cleaning up after dinner. From what I've seen so far, you seem hell bent on making my car the new conversation hot spot, dropping question bombs less than a mile or so away from home. I find this funny since your dad said that his mom, Guardian Angel Grandma, used the car as his personal torture chamber. There was no where to go, no distractions to derail her mission, and she could forge ahead with embarrassing topics without giving your dad the opportunity to escape. Luckily for him, he's largely absent when most of these little car Q&A sessions take place; I like to wonder if he'd be even more uncomfortable being the one responsible for providing the answers rather than just having to hear them. I love that you feel free enough to ask these questions even though I sometimes squirm in my efforts to answer them both honestly and age appropriately. During quiet moments together I try to cultivate the idea with you that I am always open to talk, always willing to answer your questions. I want to be able to look you in the eye, to provide you with answers that will help you make sense of the world around you. There are two things I hope you know more than anything: my love for you goes beyond what words can express and I will always be here for you when you need to talk.

It's probably a strange transition to segue between "The Talk" and this next topic, but another of the things that I love about you is your innocence. Perhaps this is because I know it's fleeting; with each passing birthday - with each passing day - I have come to accept that you lose a little bit of the naiveté of childhood. It's an important rite of passage. As much as I would love to let you live in a sheltered, insulated, protected universe created by us I know that's just not reasonable. I'd rather you lose a little bit of what makes you so sweet than have you be someone's dumping ground or the clueless girl in the corner that everyone secretly (and sometimes so secretly) laughs at. I love that you have lived seven years without knowing pain that a quick hug and a smile can't erase, and I dread the day when this is not the case. Even though life's experiences will chip away your sweet innocence leaving you transformed, I hope that no matter where you are , who you become, or what life throws your way you will be as easily entertained by those simple moments for the rest of your life as much as you are now.

I love your adventurous spirit. You are always up for the next great adventure, waking up each morning with the question, "What are we going to do today?". Trips to a museum, camping, a day at the park, bike rides, beach days, swimming at the pool, dinner with family, stopping by the library . . . it doesn't matter what it is, you are always ready for anything. You are a trooper, too, almost always sporting a good attitude and willing to withstand long waiting periods and lots of walking in the name of seeing something new. Even though you sometimes let fear stop you from achieving all that you are capable of, I know that I'll always have a partner for a day of fun in you.

Do you know that nothing fills me with happiness more than hearing you laugh? Your giggle lights up a room, and once you get going it's absolutely impossible not to laugh along with you. A family friend heard you laughing one day and said to you, "Your laugh sounds just like your mom's". I take that as a great compliment because the sound of your laughter is one of my favorites in the entire world. Most of your biggest giggling fits are either the result of something silly your best friend Addyson has done or following a comment pertaining to poop or farts. I honestly had no idea a little girl as sweet as you could find flatulence and other bathroom behaviors so hysterical, but with you that is exactly the case. Ironically, you've been known to have a bathroom behavior of your own in the midst of a laugh fit. More than once you've experience a laughing-so-hard-I-peed-my-pants moment that so many girls and women are victim of. Your cousins are primarily responsible for this, an occurrence that I can fully relate to. When you're not filling the space with one of your belly laughs, even the simplicity of your beautiful smile can light up a room. From a shy little grin to a wide smile with accompanying sparkling eyes, your happy face is my happy place.

I am a firm believer in the idea that right now I am your parent, not your friend. I hope, though, that some day down the road you will include me in your circle of friendship because it looks like an awesome community to be a part of. You are incredibly loyal to your friends and love nothing more than spending time with them. You would surround yourself with your friends at every opportunity if it was possible. The love you have for your friends is so strong that you were almost in tears as the school year came to a close, knowing that you would likely not see most of them again until school resumes in the fall. You would rather go to school year 'round if it means being able to see your friends five days a week. You are incredibly accepting, forgiving, and trustworthy - three very important traits in a good friend. You seem able to navigate between groups seamlessly and can unite otherwise unfamiliar peers with ease. Anyone you hold close in the bonds of friendship is one lucky person.

Finally, in the other classic characteristic that defines who you are, you have a deep well of love for your family, both immediate and extended. It comes as no surprise to me that your plans for adulthood include living just down the road from our current home so that you are never very far away from us. Parents, sister, grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles - we are all lucky recipients of your affection. You are sad when someone is not there to join in a family activity and show unbridled enthusiasm at being reunited with them after long absences. You have verbalized on more than one occasion that you are happiest when you are with your entire family, and I've seen you shed tears at the thought that one of us might be missing out on something special because they weren't able to be there. That we get to experience being so loved by such a amazing little girl is the greatest gift we could ever receive.

So here you are, a lucky seven years old. You want to know something though, my sweet girl? You don't need luck. You are kind, loving, generous, smart, funny, responsible, and compassionate; that will take you everywhere you want to go and will help you achieve any goal you set for yourself. With each passing day you continue to amaze me with your ability to love so fully and make my heart swell with pride at the lovely young girl who are growing up to be. You make the world a better place.

I love you, Kenna, to the moon and back times infinity. Happy birthday to you, the girl who is my heart.

XOXO,

Mommy

Mostly Wordless Wednesday

2011-07-13T16:58:00.003-05:00

Gizmo is a genius with extrordinary language skills for a not-yet two year old. The only thing more extraordinary is Gonzo's hair. It is even more magnificent in its grandeur in real life than pictures are able to capture. A perfect mix between Kate Gosselin's former look and the Snookie poof, with the softness of pure silk and the intoxicating smell of baby shampoo. I would steal them both if I didn't think their Grama Poke would tackle me in protest within feet of the front door.

Swim Lessons 2011

2011-07-12T19:48:00.001-05:00

It's that time of the season where I run the very serious risk of dehydration due to excessive loss of fluid through sweat and log an insane number of miles traveled between The Hill and D-Town all in the name of giving our daughters the opportunity to learn how not to drown. Monday morning brought violent storms, excessive heat index warnings, and the beginning of another round of swim lessons.

We like to make sure we have a solid handle on things around here before moving on to bigger and better things, thus the girls were enrolled in levels two and three for the second year in a row. Although Shortcake is clearly placed appropriately for her swimming (in)abilities, I believe Punkin could have handled an upgrade in swimming instruction. Since she's not exactly known for her expert listening skills in large group situations, I didn't think it would hurt to give her one more year of small group (or, as it appears to be the case this year, individual) lessons.

Here's the quick rundown. Shortcake, despite her best efforts, still struggles with swimming. I think it's a combination of poor endurance, a lack of understanding of proper breathing technique, and the inability to coordinate her arms and legs in a fluid motion. The fact that she won't stop plugging her nose during a good 80% of water based activity (particularly bobbing, jumping off the side or diving board, front crawl, forward glide, and back float) does not help the cause. Fear and a general lack of confidence is her worst enemy.

It was this same fear that literally paralyzed her atop the high dive at the end of lessons. After jumping off the low dive with complete confidence twice, I suddenly watched her as she strutted over to the high dive. We had a very brief conversation about how the high dive is a completely different beast, but she could not be deterred. She was on a mission and that mission was showing the high dive who was boss. All was good in the hood until she reached the point where the guard rails end. Understandably, that final short walk to the end of the board is intimating and although she made it another two feet or so toward the edge she couldn't make herself go any farther. There were tears (hysterics is probably a more appropriate term), encouraging words from her family and instructors, and finally a mini-rescue from another lifeguard. I was very proud of her for even attempting the task, but she's pretty sure she won't be trying that again any time soon. After a little pep talk last night before bed I definitely saw some progress this morning. She still rocks a mean back crawl, and as demonstrated at the lake over the holiday weekend can navigate her way around a raft like it's her job, so I have high hopes that she'll enjoy a long life of leisure based swimming activities so long as a proficient swimmer is nearby in case of a dire emergency.

Punkin, on the other hand, in just the first half of summer has shown vast improvement in her swimming abilities. That being said, she's a long way from being a proficient swimmer (my definition of proficient being she can be in the water largely unsupervised while I either read a book, nap, or engage in intense conversation regarding the latest reality or court TV drama with fellow moms), but I definitely see progress. Where her sister is saddled by fear, Punkin is approaching life in the water with a fearless attitude. In yet another moment that classically defines Punkin's personality and approach to life, when asked if she knew how to jump off the side she sweetly responded with a quiet "yes". The lifeguard positioned herself no more than two feet out from Punkin's location and then counted down with a very supportive and clueless "One . . . two . . . three . . . " which was followed immediately by a scream of "CANNONBALL" and accompanying giant splash from Punkin. Her instructor looked as though she was significantly less amused by this performance; I found it hilarious.

Going along with the fearless theme, Punkin was not to be deterred from conquering new things despite watching her sister suffer a breakdown of magnificent proportions on the high dive. One trip off the low dive was all she needed to pump her up for glory. She climb the steps, walked to the edge without hesitation, and jumped without pause at the count of three. As she does when she jumps off the dock, she soared through the air with arms extended, legs tucked, and body leaning forward. Having much farther to fall in this formation, the result was that she emerged from the surface of the water with a howl of pain having experienced her first high dive belly flop. Despite loads of praise from all surrounding her, Punkin firmly declared that she was "nevuh doing dat again". Not surprisingly, pencil jump techniques were hit hard during today's lesson.

What I do know is that despite any swimming shortcomings they may possess, I am incredibly grateful that they we are not faced with the panic stricken, don't-you-even-think-about-putting-me-in-this-water moments. That's a rough spot to be in for any parent, that time when you have to balance gentle compassion toward your child's fears with straight out throw-them-in-the-water-and-make-them-learn ruthlessness. Sink or swim, baby!

Camp Out Sissy Style

2011-07-11T21:25:00.000-05:00

Here's the thing I've learned about embracing a Summer of Fun. It's downright exhausting on both a mental and physical level (not a complaint, just an honest observation). Even though our days - sometimes carrying over into evenings - are jam packed with action and adventure, if this here blog is a snapshot of our lives it would appear as though we've been sitting on our butts doing a whole lot of nothing since the end of May. I assure you that we are living life to its fullest and embracing every memorable moment possible despite the lack of documentation of such here. My goal this week is to try to update you on some of the recent activity taking place starting with Friday night's adventure.

I've mentioned a time or two that my family tent camped during my formative years. Having two children of my own and having camped with them using the luxury of a pop-out trailer, I honestly have no idea how in the world my parents a) kept their sanity and b) did not beat us or tie us to the closest tree in the process of tent camping. The coolers, the heat, the lack of amenities like a bathroom and running water, sleeping on the rock hard ground, waking up damp from the moisture in the air...these factors make it clear that I will not be setting up a sight for a week long "vacation" at the campground anytime soon.

That being said, I have fond memories of mini-campouts in our backyard. The idea is perfection. You get to experience the beauty of the night sky, the obligatory bonfire, the refreshing feeling of falling asleep with the cool night sky kissing your cheeks, waking up to the beautiful colors in the sky of a brand new day while being a short jog from the comforts of your home in case of emergencies - bathroom, weather, or otherwise. I decided Thursday night to introduced my girls to this little adventure.

Initially they were a little skeptical, afraid they might be attacked by a rouge raccoon. Understandable concern living in the land of wildlife like we do. When I explained that I would be sleeping with them their fears were eased and the excitement built. They were absolutely no help at all setting up the tent (keeping that tradition going two generations strong!), and were literally jumping outside the tent door at the prospect of getting inside. I could get them to pose for one sad attempt at a cute picture before they refused to partake in such nonsense.

Immediately after setting up the tent I gave myself a mental pep talk before embarking on my first ever solo built bonfire. From the start I felt confident in my stacking skills.

Immediately after igniting the cardboard - without the use, I repeat WITHOUT the use, of any kind of lighter fluid - I held my breath waiting to see if the wood would start to burn.

I began a small happy dance minutes later when things started to take off and sent text messages of my masterpiece to no fewer than seven separate friends and family members.

And then finally I broke out in full put-myself-on-the-back mode once things really started to burn, baby, burn.

I like to think I'm one step closer to nailing my Survivor audition now.

A bonfire is only as good as the people you share it with, so I invited some friends over to join us for s'mores and sparklers. The General returned home from work to partake in the festivities and just after midnight we finally put our two exhausted girls to bed in the tent. Those fears of sleeping outside? Totally a non-issue considering they literally passed out in minutes. After enjoying the last of the bonfire with The General, I crawled into the tent around 1:30 am, took a few moments to stare up at the stars from my spot between the girls, and said a prayer of thanks for healthy kids, a loving husband, good friends, and the opportunity to experience all of the fun of life's simple pleasures.

I imagined that the girls would be up with the sun, but surprisingly and no thanks to the unbelievably loud birds residing in and around our yard they didn't wake up until 7 am. And that awesome fire? It totally reignited later that afternoon when The General dumped some grass clippings on top. Let that mother trucker burn!

You're Still Accepting Posts About The Fourth of July, Right?

2011-07-06T20:26:00.006-05:00

Is it just me, or does everyone have in their mind a vision for what Heaven will look like? I've always envisioned huge, puffy white clouds. Loved ones who passed on before me in close proximity at all times. Abundant sunshine. The fragrant aroma of lilacs drifting through the air. Ice cream available at a moment's notice.

This past weekend, I've altered - or at least added to - that vision just slightly. My idea of Heaven is going to include a large, beautiful lake with a scenic shoreline of exposed rock and tall trees. The weather will be a constant 85 degrees with a very slight breeze. There will be spacious docks for lounging on and jumping off. The water will be a comfortable temperature, warm enough to encourage complete immersion but cool enough to feel refreshing. For those moments of adventure there will be boats of all variety - kayaks for exercising and sightseeing, speed boats for tubing and skiing, pontoons for cruising and relaxing. Comfortable rafts and an abundance of noodles will keep those who want to be afloat, but swimming is also welcomed and encouraged. Snacks will be almost as plentiful as the laughs. And since in my Heaven I can paint things however I want, I'll have ripped arms, six pack abs, my legs will magically be six inches longer, and all body parts will be devoid of any bumps or dimples.

Thanks to Bill and Nancy, I had a taste of my Heaven over the Fourth of July weekend (minus the awesome body image fantasy unfortunately). My family was very grateful for the opportunity. Thanks again, Andersons, for opening your home and your lake to us to experience two days worth of wonderful Fourth of July festivities!

The Homecoming Wrap-Up

2011-06-28T20:25:00.000-05:00

Whew! It took until mid-day yesterday for me to feel like I had finally shaken off what can only be described as a Carbon Hill Homecoming hangover. The sensation of my limbs being heavy as lead, puffy and tired eyes, and a general sense of exhaustion had nothing to do with adult beverage consumption and everything to do with a long series of late night festivities, busy days, and action packed nights.

Tuesday: We started off our Homecoming fun by actively stalking the progress of the carnival assembly. I am not exaggerating when I say that our girls look forward to this week more than any other major holiday or event perhaps with the exception being their birthdays. We drove by the park twice and even did a slow walk-by to get a really good look at this year's featured attractions. Food stands advertising corn dogs were met with much excitement as was the dragon roller coaster. Lack of a Ferris wheel was not, however, well received. Later that evening we hosted the Tru Stories girls for dinner while Coach played in his first game of the tournament. We walked to the park to cheer on Willy's Pub, but unfortunately our timing was a little off and we missed his entire game; the good news from that night was that we at least missed getting hit with the downpour that occurred about 15 minutes after our walk home.

Wednesday: "When are we going to the carnival? Are we going tomorrow? How long is it until tomorrow? Are Tink and Coco going with us? Tomorrow is Thursday? I can't wait to go to the carnival. When are we going again?". I patiently fielded these question over and over and over again until around 3:30 pm when I announced for the last time, "We are not going to the carnival today. We are going tomorrow, on Thursday, for wrist band night. Tink and Coco are going with us. If anybody asks me one more time when we are going, I will cancel carnival night completely". A girl can only handle answering the same question so many times before losing her mind. In Carbon Hill for his second game, I invited Coach to drop off his girls at our house while Tru Stories stayed back to teach yoga. He dropped them off shortly after 7 pm and the four girls did not stop screaming and squealing with happiness until almost 9 pm when we settled in for a viewing of Tangled with snacks and jammies. I love it when the line between family and friendship is so blurred it ceases to even exist.

Thursday: "What time are we going to the carnival? Is it almost 6 o'clock yet? How much longer until we can go? But why isn't the carnival open yet? Now is it almost 6 o'clock? I forgot - when are we going to the carnival?". Every fifteen minutes starting at 9 am and not ending until we walked out the door at 6:15. The girls rode every single ride they were tall enough to go on including their first official Big Kid Ride. There was some initial hesitation from Shortcake, but after her first round she stated she wanted to ride it again immediately, and after her second turn on The Hurricane she screamed, "I loved it!" before even exiting the cart. I think we have a couple of girls ready for Great America on our hands, and we couldn't be more pumped about that. Tru Stories alluded to it in her carnival post, and as I promised her we really did shut that mother down. At $18 dollars a piece, we made sure that we took those carnies to the cleaners when it came to getting our money's worth out of those wrist bands. The sensible mother in me thought that maybe it was time to call it a night around 9:30, but when asked if the girls were tired I was met with the exclamation of "I FEEL AWESOME!" from Punkin, and Shortcake was too busy moving on to the next ride to even answer. Knowing that The General would be home within 45 minutes, I figured we would just ride until they kicked us out so that he'd be able to see them in their glory as well. The girls were literally the last group of children on the rides; not even the scantily clad high schoolers were still hanging around by the time they boarded their final ride. We tucked our two borderline-delirious-with-exhaustion-and-happiness girls in their beds just after 11:30 pm.

Friday: Thanks to our late night, it was 10 am before anyone in the One Carbon Hill house got out of bed, perhaps a new record. The girls and I took it easy for the first few hours of the day and then set out for Joliet to do some light shopping. The General surprised us by returning home early from work, and after we put the girls to bed he and I were able to enjoy the beautiful night with some cool beverages while sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Nobody better say people from The Hill ain't classy.

Saturday: My afternoon was spent with Cari, her mom, and my mom at Babies R Us where we spent a couple of hours registering for Baby Pebbles. It amazed me how quickly I forgot how much stuff a baby requires while my mom nearly stroked out after seeing how much convertible car seats cost. Following a late lunch at Portillo's, it was back home to prepare for Phase Two of the day. Although our original plan was to visit the Carbon Hill beer garden with friends, intermittent rain made that option a little less appealing. We instead headed north to the stomping grounds of our early twenties and rolled in about half past two in the morning.

Sunday: Somehow we have gone almost seven years without the girls realizing their is a Homecoming parade that takes place literally one block away from our house; maybe next year we'll give in to that indulgence as well. This year, however, early in the afternoon I attended a shower in honor of the upcoming arrival of Baby Nolan and then returned home to get the house ready for our annual fireworks party as a way to commemorate the end of this year's homecoming. The kids spent the time before the firework show playing, catching lightning bugs, climbing trees, and swinging. S'mores were a new addition this year, and I'd say they were a hit. Once again, it was after 11 pm before the girls collapsed into bed.

Monday: It was another late wake-up for the girls of Carbon Hill, and we hit the ground running. Children's yoga in Dwight, a lunch at the Dairy Queen, a visit with Great Grama & Grapa Poke, a quick trip to play on The Rocket slide at Renfrew Park, and dinner at my mom & dad's is how we chose to ease into life without the Homecoming in our lives. It's a bitter disappointment to no longer be able to hear the sounds and see the bright lights of the carnival from out your bedroom window.

Tuesday: One week after the start of the 2011 festivities, this afternoon we took a bike ride up to the park to see if there was anything left. The dragon coaster, motorcycles, and three food stands stand alone, packed up and ready for transport. The girls are coming down from their Homecoming high smoothly, and I hope that tomorrow's Beach Wednesday will further fill the void left in their lives.

Until next year when we meet again...

Summertime Friends, The Second Generation

2011-06-22T21:07:00.003-05:00

Dear Tru Stories & Coach,

Please don't fret. Your daughters are having a wonderful time, well supervised by me and my oldest daughter who has some serious lapses in judgment in terms of what constitutes appropriate personal space when it comes to Coco. They are currently enjoying a late night snack and feature film. Tink has declared that our television is huge and wants one just like it at her house.

Also, don't be concerned that their outfit changes are a reflection of weak bladders and/or diaper blowouts. When I instructured my own children to put on their pajamas, a shadow of sadness immediately crossed over Tink's face when she realized that all of her own pajamas are at her house (which she reminded me no less than three times is very far away from our house). Luckily I have a veritable warehouse of girl clothing sizes newborn to 4T in my garage, and I was able to remedy her sadness with ease. Coco couldn't be left out so I made sure to raid the 2T bin while I was at it. Please do not hold me responsible if Tink refuses to wear anything else for the rest of the summer.

If the sounds of their screams of glee and happiness since they were dropped off earlier tonight is any indication, I'd say Summer of Fun is in full effect.

Warrior Dash

2011-06-21T06:13:00.001-05:00

Due to excessive pre-race stretching and post-race mud covered hands, my picture taking at Saturday's Warrior Dash was minimal. For a full recap and multiple pictures, I will direct you to Tru Stories where she has posted several pictures that fully embody the level of mudiness one encounters after signing their name on that one page waiver of participation.

As for a narrative about my Warrior Dash experience, I will just say this. Back in February I thought the idea of entering a race that basically amounts to an extreme 5K with a group of friends and family sounded like a hell of a lot of fun. Four days prior to the event, after viewing the updated race course and obstacles, I started fielding phone calls and text messages that amounted to me feeling as though 1) this idea was monumentally stupid and 2) a significant portion of my social circle - including my own husband - may very likely shun me completely and refuse to ever talk to me again.

Following running the course race organizers claimed would be responsible for "the craziest frickin' day of [my] life," I am happy to say that not only did my fellow participants admit they had a fun time but they also almost unanimously agreed that they were excited to participate in next year's event as well. The crowning achievement? The General's statement declaring "I guess this day didn't suck after all".

Thanks, friends, for what was definitely the funnest frickin' race of my life.

Documenting This For Future Reference

2011-06-20T18:04:00.002-05:00

Dear Punkin,

Currently I am taking a quick blogging break from our evening activity as selected by you. Your sister and I are voluntarily sitting with you on the couch watching a documentary about Justin Bieber, the boy you freely refer to as your boyfriend (along with about seventeen thousand other girls aged five to fifteen). This movie, this boy, his white skinny jeans, and his "singing" are all just downright painful.

When the day comes that you accuse me of not loving you, I will quickly pull up this blog post and remind you that on a free Monday evening I sat with you while we viewed this movie together. If this singular act isn't a clear indication of the depth of my love for you, I don't know what is.

Somebody to love,

Mom

Our Number One Warrior

2011-06-19T21:08:00.004-05:00

Happy Father's Day to all of the dads out there and especially to you, General. Your girls have always known you had the spirit of a warrior when it comes to honoring, protecting, and providing for our every want and need. You didn't need a medal around your neck to prove that to us.

Thank you for everything you do for us, for being the girls' favorite snuggler, for keeping me sane with your witty remarks and sense of humor, and for being the grounding force this house of estrogen sometimes need. We love you eighty-five.

Just Another Look At Our Life

2011-06-16T21:08:00.000-05:00

No one loves a parade more than the girls of One Carbon Hill even if that parade consists of nothing more than 200 tractors driving past your house on a random Wednesday.

I have no idea where they came from or where they were going, but we found the presence of these classic machines - International Harvester, Minneapolis Moline, John Deere, and Massey Ferguson among those featured - and the smiling elderly gentlemen driving them a very exciting event* on an otherwise very ordinary overcast morning.

Watching an impromptu parade from your front yard while still wearing your pajamas? That's good stuff right there.

*And yes, this is one way that we define "exciting" here at One Carbon Hill. I realize this makes our life appear very ordinary and perhaps somewhat sheltered, but I love it. I suppose this, when coupled with being surrounded on three sides by corn fields and the menagerie of wild animals visiting our property over the years, solidifies that we're about as close to country living as you get. All I can say is that if this had taken place next week during the excitement of Carbon Hill Homecoming it might have been too much to handle.

The Look Says It All

2011-06-13T20:07:00.003-05:00

In an effort to fulfill requirements for our libraries summer reading program - 600 minutes by July 23rd, FYI - the girls and I have been reading Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I'll admit that the plot line hasn't exactly captured Punkin's attention like our reading of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, but Shortcake has been relatively engrossed in the story of a young Laura as she grows up in the woods of Wisconsin in the mid-1800s. We take time during each reading to talk about how different life was then than it is now: how they couldn't just run to the grocery story or Wal-Mart when they ran out of food or other supplies, how they didn't have furnaces or air conditioners to keep them warm or cool like we do today, how they didn't have things like television or video games for entertainment.

Shortly after we started the book, our local state park hosted Cabin Fest. Located on the park's property is a cabin built in 1845, and it is a favorite spot to visit anytime we are there. During Cabin Fest, the girls were thrilled to learn that in addition to being able to witness various activities reminiscent of life in the 1800s (soap making, hand made tools and weapons, quilting, cooking over an open fire, men and women dressed in period clothing, etc.), the normally locked cabin would be open to visitors. Despite 90 degree weather by 10 am the girls were pumped to check it out.

I'm going to ask you to take a look at this picture taken 15 minutes into our tour and let you form your own opinions as to how well you think Shortcake would have tolerated Laura's lifestyle living in the little house in the big woods.

Body language is a powerful medium.

Conversations From The Backseat

2011-06-10T10:00:00.001-05:00

Scene: Wednesday morning, in the car on the way to the beach.

Shortcake: Mom, I have a bump on the top of my mouth.

The Mrs.: Oh really? Did you burn it on your oatmeal this morning?

Shortcake: No, it was there yesterday!

Punkin: I think you have a baby in yo tummy.

The Mrs.: Wha . . .

Shortcake: Punkin, that's not how babies get in your tummy.

Punkin: I know dat, Shortcake. It's a mystuwy how babies get in dey-uh.

The Mrs.: (silence, hoping someone changes the subject quickly)

Shortcake: It's not a mystery. God puts babies in mommies' tummies!

Punkin: No, Jesus put me in my mommy's tummy.

Shortcake: Mom, who's right? Does God or Jesus put babies in mommies' tummies?

The Mrs.: (sweating slightly) Um, well, they both do. They sort of work together.

Punkin: Yeah! It's like they use teamwuhk.

Shortcake: Yeah! One of them does the work while the other one cheers, "Go! Go! Do it! Do it!".

The Mrs.: (dying a million tiny deaths, alternating between stifling uncontrollable giggling and praying to both God and Jesus giving thanks that at that exact moment we were arriving at our destination bringing an end to this conversation.) Um, yeah. Something like that. Oh look, we're here!

*end scene*

Pieces of Babyhood Literally Falling Away

2011-06-09T15:26:00.004-05:00

At the campground over Memorial Day weekend, I was sitting at the table with Cari oohing and ahhing over adorable crocheted infant hats and other assorted precious accessories courtesy of the glory of Etsy. Suddenly Punkin burst in through the door announcing, "My toof! It's LOOSE!". I wanted to be as excited as she was. I really did. But as my sister-in-law sat across from me shopping for her (still baking) newborn baby girl I had to work really hard not to let the tears flow as my baby girl reached yet another milestone cementing the fact that she is growing up way too fast.

The following text exchange took place shortly after between The General and me:

Me: E just discovered her tooth is loose. :(
Him: Uh oh
Me: I'm trying not to be emotional about it.
Him: Haha
Him: She is 5
Him: Ken was 5
Me: you're not helping
Him: Sorry

Last night while the girls were at their sleepover right around 9:30 the phone rang; it was Punkin calling with a very exciting announcement.

Was it better than I wasn't there to witness one of the last pieces of babyhood falling away? Probably. I'm not sure she would have appreciated me bringing down her excitement level with my uncontrollable tears.

My baby girl, growing up right before my very eyes. Luckily I had that little tantrum she decided to throw followed by a solid afternoon nap today to remind me that there's still just a little bit of that feisty infant's personality hidden in her five year old frame.

Beach Wednesday

2011-06-08T21:44:00.004-05:00

We have a group of friends who, every summer, partake in what they call "Beach Wednesdays". Loaded down with shovels, pails, chairs, towels, blankets, and coolers, they descend upon South Wilmington's club as a sometimes intimidating force to be reckon with. Although the founding group of Beach Wednesday are out of state on a family vacation, another friend extended an invitation to the girls and me to participate in our first Beach Wednesday of 2011. Thanks to an afternoon filled with almost four hours of swimming, minnow catching, games of keep away, building sandcastles, playing at the park, and a picnic lunch under the shade of a tree the girls had the time of their lives.

Today's Beach Wednesday didn't end as we pulled out of the parking lot. While the girls were playing at the beach my friend extended an invitation to have both girls over for a sleepover. My ears are still ringing courtesy of the screams that came from the backseat of my car when I made the announcement. I was initially a little lost as to how I would fill my evening hours upon suddenly being childless, but I can report that I adjusted to the change in routine just fine.

Beach Wednesdays may be my new favorite summer event.

Extended Family Day At Stevenson Pool

2011-06-07T20:21:00.007-05:00

In an attempt to continue the trend toward creating a "Summer of Fun" (as dubbed by Tru Stories), the girls and I loaded up the vehicle and headed south to beat the heat by the pool where I spent a significant portion of my childhood summers. Although the following pictures may indicate otherwise, I would like to assure everyone that all children in our care were properly monitored and supervised based on age and swimming ability. The reason you won't see either Tru Stories, The Bride, or me pictured is because there is a hard and fast rule when it comes to swimming pictures - get the kids, but if you value your life you'll leave the adults out. You may also notice the pictures are a little bit Coco heavy while totally neglecting the two boys who were present. This can be explained with two reasons: first, Coco is incredibly photogenic and impossibly cute making it nearly impossible to restrain from obsessively taking pictures of her and secondly, when I'm at the pool I only take pictures from where I'm comfortably seated. The Kid and Warhol's boy (seriously, after One, Two and Three I never remember who is what number) were no where near me thus no pictures of them.

Mom, you'll enjoy this little story about the picture of your granddaughters taking a snack break. Tru Stories turned to me just after the first swim break and asked if I was planning on taking my kids to get snacks at any point. I causally pointed behind her to where our girls were enjoying their peanut butter crackers and Capri Suns brought from home at which point Tru Stories declared, "Oh, you're one of those moms". I then delved deep into one of the tragic stories of my childhood, explaining how I deprive my girls the joy of the pool snack bar just as my mother did to me so many years ago. Of course, the difference between the generations is that after their snack the girls were still hungry and I didn't have the luxury of telling them to walk across the street to Gramma's house and get a popsicle out of the freezer. El Paso's a little bit of a hike compared to Morgan Street. So an hour later it was nachos and popcorn from the snack bar.

This girl melts my heart.

This is Warhol's girl, Number Mid-Way Between One and Thirteen. She brought Coco as to show and tell. It's a classic story, and if you haven't read about it you should really check in to Tru Stories to check it out.

An elusive smile caught on camera from Tink. I could listen to her talk all day long. Also noted today: she may be tiny but Homegirl don't fool around when someone dumps water on her head as a fun gesture. She is capable of giving a look that stops you dead in your tracks. Just ask Punkin.

Swimming Progress Report 2011: Shortcake still swims like her butt is made of lead, but I see improvements! She's really more adept at underwater propulsion than your more traditional freestyle. She's braver each year so maybe this will be the year that things click.

As for Punkin (not pictured individually in action because she looked a little extra ridiculous in all of her swimming poses), she still swallows about as much water as humanly possible as proven by four bathroom breaks in three hours which isn't even close to her pool record of once every fifteen minutes over a three hour span. However, we made it through the day without one puking incident! I was a little gun shy after she coughed to the point of gagging when she took in too much water - on a SLIP N SLIDE for the love of God - over the weekend, but victory was ours today. However, we've been invited to a day at the beach tomorrow so to say I'm still holding my breath over the possibility for disaster by the lake is an understatement. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on Punkin Pool Puke Watch 2011.

Thanks to The Bride and the crew from Tru Stories for braving the wild atmosphere of a public pool on the hottest day of the year to date. We're glad you were able to share the day with us! JD in GC and ABT, we wish you could have joined us - let's find another day when you're free soon!

What I Learned Yesterday

2011-06-03T13:48:00.002-05:00

Tru Stories' girls are angels.

I'm not calling Tru Stories a liar because I know better than anyone that even the wildest imagination could not make up stories as hilarious as these kids provide all on their own, but I will say that Tink and Coco were models of innocence and sweetness during their time at our house yesterday.

Coco didn't even attempt to eat one gross thing although she did wolf down a second helping of mac and cheese like she was auditioning for a Coney Island Speed Eating Contest. The girl really let me down for bloggable material.

Thanks for coming over to play yesterday, girls. Our house is a little less sparkly today without your cute faces peeking around the corner.

Camping Memories: The Next Generation

2011-05-31T20:36:00.001-05:00

My parents were invited to a Memorial Day camping weekend with three families from their church, and because my daughters automatically assume that anytime their trailer is hitched to the back of my dad's vehicle en route to a campground they should be following right behind, we scored ourselves an invite to tag along. I grew up camping, but all I can say is that roughing it with your own children sure adds a whole new dimension to the experience. There were so many funny, memorable, bloggable moments from our weekend at Moraine View State Park that I really should have been blogging in real time, but I didn't so I'll just try to document some of the highlights as well as a few valuable lessons learned.

*~*~*~*~*

For those of you who hold firm to the belief that camping is not relaxing, I want to provide some first hand experience to the contrary. This weekend was the first time we took the girls camping as part of a larger group. Between the four families that were camping together, there were a total of ten children ages three to ten. From the moment we unpacked, my children were nearly constantly entertained. I was really able to embrace my inner neglectful parent while they rode their bikes, ran from camper to camper to play and watch movies, and took off on their own to play at the nearby park. I'll admit that it took a good half hour for my helicopter-parent-in-crowded-public-places mode to disengage, but after I was certain that Shortcake and Punkin understood three rules (always stay together, never go near the water without an adult, and come tell me if you are going somewhere different than where you are going now) the atmosphere was glorious.

*~*~*~*~*

Scene: outside the camper chopping kindling for the fire, early Saturday evening

Papa Poke: Punkin, where are you going?
Punkin: To Allie's campuh.
Papa Poke: Why?
Punkin: 'Cause I want to play wif huh.
Papa Poke: Don't you want to stay here with me?
Punkin: No, I want to play wif Allie.
Papa Poke: But aren't I special?
Punkin: (walking away with a backwards glance) Not dat special.

(And trust me, that girl knows a thing or two about being special.)

*~*~*~*~*

Injury Report: Shortcake managed to sustain minor injuries to her upper hip region and knee when she fell off her bike while practicing without training wheels (she and I got tangled up in our effort; my injuries were severe bruising of my knee and dignity); middle finger after learning the valuable lesson that you never swat at a fish hook dangling from a line; upper elbow area after taking a second fall three miles into a bike ride around the lake; and her back after falling out of the hammock.

*~*~*~*~*

Most of Saturday and Sunday was either spent indoors in an effort to avoid the rain or rushing through outdoor activities before the next storm passed through. On one of those efforts my dad and I took the girls down to the dock for a little fishing. I was one of the only ones to actually catch a fish - a baby walleye according to those with fishing knowledge - and while I was equally part shocked and excited (and also pissed because I failed to bring my camera along to document the event) I also capitalized on the opportunity to look like a total moron:

Jr. High Aged Fisherman: What did you use to catch that fish?
Me: A Princess pole.
Jr. High Aged Fisherman: (with a look of total disgust at my ignorance) No, I mean what's on your hook?
Me: Um, I don't know. I think it's green?
Jr. High Aged Fisherman: Here, let me just look at it.

What I wanted to tell that punk was to stop drawing attention to my mad walleye catching ability seeing as how I was fishing illegally. The only thing causing me more panic than getting busted for not having a fishing license was how I was going to get that dumb fish off my line (which ended up being a non-issue because Jr. High Aged Fisherman was more than eager to do the work for me).

*~*~*~*~*

My parents, God bless them and their willingness to take on our crazy for two days in close quarters, love them some Hobos. A camp fire delicacy, these stupid aluminum foil encased meals cause more turmoil and tribulation than you can imagine. Always focused on conflict avoidance, this trip's Hobo related debacle led me break the tension by creating an on-the-spot dance I appropriately named "The Hobo Hoedown Meltdown". Look for it coming to a dance floor near you soon.

I really have to keep my bashing of these two to a minimum though. As I said, they graciously allowed the girls and I to tag along on their weekend getaway while feeding us, letting us steal the big bed, and helping me out during those moments when the girls actually required some adult attention. Thanks, guys, for the hospitality and entertainment.

*~*~*~*~*

As I mentioned, the majority of Saturday afternoon was spent inside the camper due to steady rainfall. Luckily the four families' campers were all parked in a row and all parents subscribed to an open door policy allowing kids to hop from one camper to another. Saturday night it was revealed that the following took place away from our camper, an event that is classically Punkin.

Scene: Katie & Neil's brand new Taj Mahal like camper. Katie, Neil, Alicia, and Greg are vising at the table when Punkin enters.

Katie: Hi, Punkin. None of the kids are in here right now. They're all playing in Becky & Brian's camper.
Punkin: Yeah, I know. I just came in he-uh to poop.

Luckily, the adults in the camper have a great sense of humor, a deep appreciation for Punkin's personality, and found her innocence hilarious.

*~*~*~*~*

Monday finally brought sunny skies and warm temperatures which makes perfect sense considering that was our departure day. My dad organized an impromptu water balloon and squirt gun fight, a definite highlight of the weekend for the kids, their parents and even strangers who watched with delight from their own nearby sites.

*~*~*~*~*

I firmly believe that conversations around a campfire set the scene for the most enlightening and therapeutic words exchanged between friends.

Sunday night's talk confirmed:

a mother's guilt is a universal binding force
there is little that causes a mother more pain than watching her child hurt and not being able to fix it
no matter how well you know and understand your own child, it sometimes takes another mom's perspective for that "aha moment" which allows you to see your child in a whole new light

*~*~*~*~*

In addition to not paying employees' salaries as well as other assorted bills, the State of Illinois must be cutting costs by not budgeting for the cleaning and general upkeep of their state campsite bathrooms. One word: disgusting.

*~*~*~*~*

If her growing belly isn't enough proof, you should take Cari's choice for a mid-afternoon snack as a clear indicator that she is indeed pregnant.

*~*~*~*~*

When the girls ask to help make pancakes for breakfast, you should eat with caution. Although they were great helpers, they aren't afraid to pick their noses, put their fingers in their mouth, use the box to kill an ant, or other undocumented unsavory behaviors during the meal preparations.

*~*~*~*~*

One of the less glamorous sides of camping in luxury is the obligatory dump station visit. Luckily camp officials always put safety first. Quite literally, here's your sign (and I shudder to think why this warning is even necessary).

The girls were appropriately unimpressed.

*~*~*~*~*

While we all missed The General while he stayed home in an effort to finish odd jobs around the house, the girls and I had so much fun. The girls were filthier than they have ever been in their lives for the majority of the weekend, but the smiles on their faces were almost constant. Getting away from the distractions of home, surrounding yourself with family and good friends, taking time to enjoy the sun, woods, water, and even thunderstorms that surrounds you, and creating memories that will last forever - this is what I love about camping*.

*As long as I have a semi-comfortable mattress, running water, ample electricity, and functional toilet and shower at the ready.

Summer Break

2011-05-26T10:26:00.003-05:00

We're ready. Bring it on!

EnRaptured

2011-05-20T20:02:00.002-05:00

So word on the street is that the world is supposed to end tomorrow. According to what I will refer to as questionable sources, The Rapture is set to take place sometime around 5 o'clock (time zone unknown), and for all those who didn't stop believin' you can expect to be knockin' on Heaven's door soon after. All you other sorry suckers are due to perish on your way to eternal damnation over the course of the following five months. Sounds delightful, doesn't it?

The notion of the end of the world as we know it coming tomorrow has left me with one singular thought. On my to-do list for tomorrow is cleaning the house, doing laundry, helping where possible as The General gets our porch reassembled and septic tank properly re-covered, and a much needed super sized grocery shopping trip to Wal-Mart. If that's not the most depressing way to spend a final day on Earth I challenge you to prove otherwise.

And if this is truly the end, I hope to see you all on the flip side. I'm sure there's blogging behind the pearly gates, right?

Love Is In The Air?

2011-05-19T19:30:00.000-05:00

Every afternoon, Shortcake exits her school, quickly locates her school bus, and cheerfully chats with friends for the 10 minute ride to the babysitter's house where her sister excitedly anticipates her return (partly because she loves her Big Sis but mostly because the arrival signifies the end of nap time). There are several children her age who ride the bus to the same neighborhood, and I learned tonight it appears as though she's made a special connection with one of them as the year as progressed.

Oh, and in case you totally ignored the title of this post, you have probably figured out that the "special connection" is with a B-O-Y.

Upon arriving at the sitter's tonight, I observed Punkin playing with sidewalk paint, our babysitter's little girl yelling angrily from the house, our sitter carefully supervisng her charges, and Shortcake with a smile as big as I've ever seen riding a bike along the sidewalk behind a blonde haired boy on a bike of his own. Our sitter walked toward me as I got out of my car and smiled as she said, "I think Shortcake might have a little crush on that boy. No, I KNOW Shortcake has a crush on that little boy!". Watching Shortcake giggle madly as she rode the too-small-for-her bicycle back and forth on the sidewalk, following him every time he made a turn, brought about instant mixed emotions. I experienced simultaneous thoughts of "Awww, isn't that cute!" and "That's not cute at all, GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!". Admittedly the kid is adorable and seems as nice as a seven year old boy can be. He appears to come from a good home if the state of his house is any indication of parenting abilities, and he did have a smile that melted even my own guarded and suspicious heart at first glance.

But the sight of Shortcake almost deliriously chasing after him in a love sick fashion? Ugh. I am so not ready for that. And would you like to know what else I'm definitely not ready for? Both of my daughters pining after the same boy as I quickly learned after feeling a wave of nausea when they yelled sing-song farewells in unison from the open car windows in a style reminiscent of classic school girl infatuation. How's that FOID card registration coming along, General?

Coversational Snippet of a First World Problem

2011-05-17T19:14:00.003-05:00

"Mom, I need mo dwessing. Theyuhs no mo left and the salad is stawting to taste like lettuce!"

I Guess My Hopes For A Future Olympic Track & Field Star Was A Long Shot

2011-05-14T12:35:00.003-05:00

This morning one of the schools in our district hosted a kids' run and 5K fun run to raise money for the family one of our kindergartners who was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma last November. Despite chilly temperatures and intermittent rain, I thought the turnout was great. And when I felt like complaining about how cold I was, it helped that Jacob's smiling face was there (as well as his friend and former roommate, Howard, who was diagnosed with a different form of cancer recently and is the son of a former classmate of mine) to remind us all that if a six (or four) year old can still smile after the horrific treatments they have had to undergo then a little rain shouldn't bring me down.

Originally the plan was for the four of us to attend together. The girls would run the kid's race and then The General would take them while I ran the 5K. I've been dealing with some post half- marathon knee issues so I was a little hesitant to make my first run back a 3 mile race. As a result, I scrapped the original plans and decided to walk the route with the girls in tow with friends while The General stayed home. I really should have known better.

Not even one mile into the three mile course Punkin was dragging, and the whining soon followed. Understandably, both girls were complaining of the cold well before the half-way point which prompted motivational talks about what Jacob has to endure and how we're doing this for him. When that inspiration wore off I resorted to more direct tactics, giving both girls visual imagery of a McDonald's lunch after crossing the finish line. Shortcake was a trooper and walked the entire route; Punkin enjoyed only those portions of the race that she saw from her perch on top of my shoulders.

As we (finally) approached the home stretch toward the finish line, I really kicked up the positive affirmations and self-talk to get Shortcake to the end. Punkin was of little concern at that point as she was firmly planted on top of my muscle spasm seizing shoulders but she did provide the quote of the day:

Mrs.: Come on, Shortcake! You can do this! You've come this far, and look how close you are now! We're almost there, we can't quit now!

Shortcake: silence aside from her mild huffing and puffing, looks of pure agony courtesy of exhaustion and bone chilling rain painted clearly across her face

Punkin: (irritatingly gleeful from atop my shoulders) Yeah! Come on Showtcake! We can't quit now, we've got to win dis wace!

Ironic because I was trying very hard not to be passed by the police car trailing the very last participants. Apparently Punkin's concept of WINNING! is very similar to that of one Charlie Sheen.

We finished in just about an hour, and I think it's more than safe to say that I don't have to worry about them tagging along for any runs with me anytime soon. Lesson learned today: walking 3.1 miles (at least half of those with a 40 pound child on my shoulders) with my daughters is SIGNIFICANTLY harder and MONUMENTALLY less meditative than running 13.1 on my own.

DNA & Deodorant

2011-05-11T19:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Coco,

You are adorable. Your crinkly faced smile melts my heart. Stories about your silly antics make my day. And tonight I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone in your strange attraction to products designed to promote healthy hygiene.

Tonight your older cousin, Punkin, smells strongly of her father's deodorant. She thought she'd could get away with the incognito application with me being none the wiser, but apparently she doesn't realize that the scent of Gillette antiperspirant is strong enough to smell from two rooms away when applied by a five year old. I'm afraid to ask if she just simply applied it to her underarms as she's seen modeled for her by her parents or if she took a page out of a story you've already written and ingested some while I was busy helping her sister with homework. I'm going to go on being blissfully unaware of all the details because frankly I'm afraid to know the truth.

You two are seriously the cutest, but I suspect you both might also drive your mothers to either a serious drinking problem or an early grave.

Hugs,
The Mrs.

White People Can't Dance

2011-05-09T20:11:00.007-05:00

At our last family gathering it was the saga of the stuck-in-the-mud electric car that captured our attention for what seemed like hours.

Yesterday, the electric car was still a pivotal part of the day's entertainment but the true gut busting moments were courtesy of the sight of a dozen young children lined up on either side of a country road breaking out in the latest dance craze to hit the nation (or maybe just our isolated section of the world) every time the car drove past.

Everybody now. Let's Move Like Bernie!

And for those of you so out of the loop that you're not down with the latest and greatest to hit the dance scene since the dawning The Macarena, here's a video straight out of P-Town to give you a better idea of the intricate movements. Study closely to perfect before trying them in public, and if you need a one-to-one instructional session I suggest you contact one of Doc's kids. Homies got those moves down.

I still don't really get it (because I'm old, I suspect), but The Commissioner was right about one thing. It just never stopped being funny. Even the FS truck that received the Movin' Like Bernie sendoff gave it a two honk salute!

Thank goodness for The Commissioner and his tree hugging heart. Not only is he saving the world one energy efficient vehicle at a time, but he's also doing the nearly impossible task of making family events even more entertaining. I can't wait to see what Christmas has in store for us. Sledding behind the car perhaps? I'll bring the hot chocolate!

They Give Me Life

2011-05-08T17:25:00.004-05:00

These two beautiful human beings give me reason to celebrate every single day. They make me smile, make me laugh, make me sing, make me get out of bed even when I don't want to. They are quite literally my heart and my soul.

One is shows emotion in a way so similar to me that is sometimes almost painful to watch. I know her thoughts before she even verbalizes them; she wears her heart on her sleeve at all times. I close my eyes and can vision what she will be like in ten years. I predict there will be moments of intense drama between her and I as we navigate our way through a precarious time in the relationship between a mother and her daughter. I know though that in even the most heated debates she will always come back to confide in me, to seek my advice, to unleash her bottled up feelings of stress, hurt, sadness, and frustration. Because we share a soul, her and I. We are tied together for all eternity in that way.

The other is so opposite from me in the way she lives in each and every moment, and she gives me so much perspective on what it means to just enjoy life for what it's giving you right here, right now. Her exuberance is contagious and she has an incredible knack of being able to bring me to tears of laughter even when I'm in the worst mood. Watching her in even the simplest moments, I can physically feel my heart swell with love for her. I know that there might come a time when her words or actions might make it feel like my heart has been broken into a million pieces, but I also know with certainty that it will be her own words and actions which will put all the pieces back together again.

They are two of the greatest loves of my life, the other being the man who gave me the honor of being their mommy and who is helping me raise them to be loving and honorable human beings. On this Mother's Day, I want to thank the three of them for giving me the greatest gift I could ever ask for. Motherhood is no easy journey, but there is no other journey that I will ever enjoy more than this one.

I Can Handle Rejection, But This Was Just A Huge Slap In The Face

2011-05-07T10:54:00.004-05:00

As I excitedly watched Tru Stories & Page Turner's Oprah episode last night, I spent some 48 minutes scanning the crowd furiously for a shot that would capture the pure exhilaration that was surely radiating from their faces. As I told Page Turner via blog comment: dreams really do come true, and my already happy heart at their good fortune would have swelled even more if I could have just seen them in the audience. At the point that Tom Hanks & Julia Roberts revealed their favorite things, I thought for sure that this was my chance. Instead, like a giant knife to the heart, I see a smug looking Jill Zarin right there in one of the front rows.

For those of you not addicted to questionable reality television like yours truly, Jill Zarin is one of the "housewives" of New York (quotations used because most of the women featured on this show either have jobs outside the home that keep them away for 18 hours a day, employee multiple nannies/chefs/housekeepers/stylists/makeup artists to keep their daily lives running smoothly, and jet set to exotic vacations on a whim - none of which are descriptors that match my admittedly old school definition of a housewife). I have no doubts that she's probably lucky enough to attend some of the same soirees as many big time, legit stars on her own. To see her in the audience of one of Oprah's last shows taking up a seat that one of the real loyal fans pine for was enough to made my blood boil.

A little internet searching revealed she obviously knows how to play the game.

Lunch with Nate Berkus, perhaps getting him to redesign your already immaculate home with his impeccable style all in the name of getting a coveted ticket to Oprah? Well played, Jill Zarin. Well played.

Luckily I know some people with a new espresso machine. Maybe a small glass will help ease me down off this ledge of desperation and despair.

It's No Ticket To Oprah, But I'm Still Insanely Happy Tonight

2011-05-04T20:38:00.005-05:00

We've been having a bit of a septic issue here at Casa de One Carbon Hill. The first relatively simple remedy initially appeared to have done the job. Not long after our return from the weekend away it was revealed that such was not the case.

I won't go into details, but the words "failed septic field" were thrown around. Exploratory probing was the suggested next step at a significant price tag just to hopefully pinpoint the source of the problem. Estimated cost to fix hypothesized problem was enough to, as my dad said, probably knock off six months of my life given the degree to which I was stressing. I spent most of Monday alternating between states of moderate nausea and mild sobbing.

A second opinion was called in based on a suggestion and gut instinct two days before our yard was set to be destroyed. Verdict from the second professional: the source of our sluggish system appears to be a blocked intake pipe. Cost to fix: a price so significantly less than the other option it literally made me dizzy with happiness. We cancelled The Big Dig and enthusiastically invited Professional Number Two tom come back this afternoon to see if his preliminary diagnosis was correct.

I am almost out-of-my-mind-with-giddiness to report that tonight I have flushed my toilets, emptied a sink full of water, and washed a load of clothes without any sign of painfully slow drainage, gurgling of water, or poo backup in the tub. I might not get to experience the joy of receiving a ticket to Oprah, but I have a strong suspicion that this euphoric state I'm flying in right now is pretty stinking close to how Tru Stories was feeling last night.

Hey, if I disclosed dollar amounts you'd understand.

Disclosure: I've lived with and loved The General long enough to know I should not to be too optimistic just yet (on the flip, he's trying hard to see the bright side of dark situations - yin and yang, baby). I'm still holding my breath with each and every flush for at least the next two weeks, crossing my fingers that this near crisis is behind us. *hee hee . . . behind* Also, The General and I have unofficially declared ourselves as Septic Tank Maintenance Spokespeople. Have you had yours pumped lately?

Thoughts And Reflections On The Illinois Half-Marathon

2011-05-01T10:54:00.002-05:00

I probably should have written this post yesterday afternoon when my memory was fresh and my post-race buzz was at its peak instead of the morning after, where I moan and groan like an old lady with crippling arthritis anytime I'm required to go from a sitting to standing position and walk like a peg legged pirate. My body is feeling the effects of running 13.1 miles, let's just say that. But is it dampening my excitement about yesterday's event? Not one little bit.

First, I need to say this. If anyone is contemplating running in their first race, I'd like to encourage you to sign up for one of the many events the Christie Clinic Illinois Marathon offers. Their fourth annual event is scheduled for next year on the last weekend in May, and there's everything from a 5K, 10K, half marathon, full marathon, marathon relay, and even a 1K youth run. Despite the enormous task of providing a great experience for over 18,000 runners, the entire event is a smooth running operation. The 3,000 volunteers that make this weekend possible are the friendliest, most encouraging, and kindest people I've ever come across during an event like this. The spectators line the entire race route and provide additional encouragement and entertainment with everything from clapping, cow bells, tambourines, funny signs, horns, music, and in some cases even extra refreshments. Because of the spectators alone, I spent the majority of the race wishing I had my camera with me to accurately capture all the blog worthy images. The route is scenic, mostly flat (although even the slightest incline is detected once you get into mile 9) and, for me at least, nostalgic. And there is just nothing quite like running into the stadium only to see yourself captured on the big screen in the south end zone, knowing that your friends and family are there waiting for your return.

So, the race. Naturally I'm sure you'll understand if I don't get all the details matched up to the correct mile. I've tried to jot down some memorable moments from along the route for your entertainment and my memory. Most of these that are assigned to specific miles are close estimates. 13 miles of running leads to a decreased capacity to restore things into short term memory.

The Start: I met ABT in the lobby of our hotel and rode with her and four of her P-Town running buddies to the start. Their energy was exactly the kind of atmosphere I needed to be in the morning of a race like this one. Thank you, ABT & friends, for calming my nerves and providing laughs that kept me from the nervous puke. Upon exiting the vehicle we quickly discovered that the wind was fierce and the temperatures a bit chilly for shorts & t-shirt attire; and seeing all the other runners prepping for their races was equally intimidating and thrilling. Just after 7 am ABT and I went our separate ways - her and her friends scouting out the best area to enter the line of runners and me taking off for FAR behind their start zone toward runners closer to my caliber of athleticism. I found the 2:30 pace runner (guessimated age: 65) and settled in a bit behind her. I was about five feet in front of the orange and blue Darth Vader. After the 10k runners were sent on their way the nervousness and excitement really started to kick in. I gave one or two "This is so stupid" exclamations to the girl I was chatting with for good measure (those were for you, Tru Stories), and at the 30 seconds to start announcement I was holding back tears. And then we were off.

Mile One: Running down First Street past the stadium was quick with the wind at our backs and sort of chaotic. There were 7,500 runners entered in the half-marathon and although we were staggered by predicted pace it was still difficult to find your position. Everyone was polite but there was definitely some bumping going on out there. Images of tripping on someone's shoe and ending my race before it even started were at the forefront of my mind, but soon enough I was able to secure a spot. That first mile flew by. In this first mile I thought to myself there can not be a better atmosphere to run a race than on a college campus. Where else can you run past a lawn full of cheering frat boys with beers in hand and music blaring or a house full of college students screaming their ever loving heads off, offering their own version of a hydration station with Solo cups filled to the brim with (probably warm, cheap) beer all before the end of the first mile? I saw one runner take a sip from the red Solo cup handed out to him and I thought the guys offering it were going to lose their minds with excitement. Ah, the future leaders of America...

Mile Two: I sort of think the markers for miles one and two might have been a little off because as quickly as we approached the first mile marker, the second seemed to take forever to reach. There were several highlights along this stretch of the race though including the turn onto Green Street (the main roads running through the heart of campus), seeing my first puke sighting just before Walgreens, and marveling at how much this portion of campus has changed in ten years. The best part of this mile though - and probably a top three favorite memory of the entire race - is that just after I passed the 2:30 pace runner (someone I had been searching for since the start of the race) my random shuffling iPod played the 3 in 1 at the exact moment I was running past The Alma Mater. *chills* I gave her a quick salute in honor of all my fellow U of I grads, kicked up the pace a little bit, and got lost in the beat of the drum. CHIEF!

Miles Three and Four: They were relatively unremarkable. The only thing I can really remember that stands out from this portion of the race was thinking "I remember when I thought it was a long way to drive from campus. And now I'm running the distance?This is insanity". The only thing that really sticks out is the Mile Four marker. At this exact moment Em's "Born to Run" suggestion filled my ears and made me think of her. Also at this exact moment we passed the Elvis impersonator and the town's strip club. I really wasn't sure how to process that information, but it made me laugh.

Running through this part of town is when I started seeing some of the best signs of the race. My favorites included "Puke and Rally", "Run like you stole something", "Gas is $4.30. Keep Running. It's Cheaper" and the one with the picture of Justin Bieber and "Never Say Never" (that made me thing of Punkin and how just the day before she blew on a dandelion and wished that JB would appear). Other great signs throughout the route were "You look like a Kenyan!" (mile 9ish) and a woman holding a sign that said "Don't Stop" and her husband three feet away holding another one that said "That's what she says". Seriously, the spectators were awesome. It was also during this part of the race when I started paying attention to the people around me. There was a pack of three - one woman holding a small Union Jack flag, a man holding a toy scepter, and a third woman wearing a tiara with the sign "I'm running from the paparazzi" on her back - paying tribute to the Royal Wedding, and another woman who had the goals of survival, no injuries to herself or others, and not puking as the recipe for a success race spelled out on her shirt. Running with me almost the entire race was a girl with one of those "Baby on Board" signs pinned to the back of her shirt. I could barely peel myself off the couch to dish up another serving of ice cream when I was pregnant, so I had to give her mad props. There was one woman kicking it old school with a Walk-Man (as in cassette), and a man with the profound statement of "Running is hard, living with Autism is harder" on his shirt. Talk about perspective! And I noticed several scripture inspired quotes on the back of people's shirts. I think we were all calling on Jesus at some point so I guess that was pretty fitting as well.

Mile Five: This stretch will forever be remembered as the moment we hit some serious mother trucking wind. I also got sweat on for the first (but not last) time. Having had almost a permanent smile on my face up until this point, it was at mile five that this jubilant shine started to fade.

Mile Six: I started to get hungry. I ran forward remembering the advertised GU station at this marker. I ran past the hydration stations with no GU in sight except for all the empty packets discarded on the road under my feet. Kept running with the thought of getting my first drink of water at the next hydration station.

Mile Seven: First drink, solidifying the fact that in future training sessions I need to work on gracefully getting water into my mouth and NOT all over my face while still running. Seriously, at one point in the race I splashed so much water into my eye that I almost lost a contact. I'm pretty sure the volunteers laughed at me, but I didn't even care. It was also at this point in the race that I lost the ability to do simple math calculations. I seriously couldn't subtract seven from thirteen to determine how many miles I had left to run. Luckily at that moment I looked to my right at saw this sign: "Only 5.9 miles to beer". I'm telling you, these spectators are SO helpful!

Miles Eight and Nine: This was probably the hardest part of the race for me (except for pinning on my race bib which is insanely difficult). Most of these miles were through Meadowbrook Park and despite the pretty surroundings I felt as though we were never going to make it out of there. I don't know if it's because we were funneled onto narrower park sidewalks or what, but I started feeling almost claustrophobic and by the nine mile mark I could not wait to get out of there. The fact that the sun suddenly emerged making the temperatures rise probably played a part as well. I did see a man running with his socks rolled down a la Vince which made me smile.

Mile Ten: This is the only point where I could feel my body start to revolt. The legs suddenly felt like lead, my shoulders were tight, my head felt too heavy for my neck to support. At one point I swear I thought I was hallucinating: turning suddenly to look behind my left shoulder because it sounded like a rabid dog was growling behind me, I saw a man instead making some kind of crazy guttural running noises. I also found myself running next to Mr. Sweatsalot in this mile. This guy was wearing a hat and was sweating so profusely that a steady stream of sweat ran along both sides on the brim of his hat where they met in a stream of perspiration then fell off the front of the brim in front of his face. Being splashed for the second time with someone else's bodily fluids meant resorting to a happy place. "He's got an under-the-hat irrigation system. It's just water. No human being can sweat that much and still be running. It's unnatural" was the mantra I uttered to myself I was passed him as quickly as my body would allow. Also in this mile was an unmanned medical cart because the EMT on duty was standing away from vehicle taking a cigarette break. If that's not irony at its finest...

Mile Eleven: Finally I reach a GU station but grab the Chocolate Explosion. It tastes just like chocolate frosting but eleven miles into a run that is strangely not as satisfying as one might think. With two miles to go and finally back on campus, I start to get a little pep back in my step. John Denver's "Country Roads Take Me Home" feels my ears helping me find my stride again.

Mile Twelve: The stadium is in sight. The Navy officers are ringing their bell with great enthusiasm. I make the turn just outside the Law Building and Krannert Art Museum knowing there is just over one mile left to go. "I'm really going to do this," I think to myself. Tears return, and as I turn onto first street I can feel the luck of the Irish with the wind at my back pushing me toward the finish line.

Mile Thirteen: Only a few feet away from entering Memorial Stadium running on a downhill slope, I can literally feel adrenaline take over. I make the turn and before me is easily one of the most welcoming sites I have ever seen. Beneath me the turf is soft; from the field, the stadium doesn't seem as immense as I thought it would. With a smile on my face, my arms pumping, and my legs moving as fast as I could I finally crossed the finish line as the clock ticked 2:30:47.

Holy shit, I just ran a half-marathon. Official chip time: 2 hours, 26 minutes, and 7 seconds (four minutes under my pie-in-the-sky goal).

It was no more than five minutes after crossing the line that I heard someone yell my name. I turned just in time to see ABT running - RUNNING! - across the field toward me. Easily another top favorite memory from the event. I might have blamed her for getting me into the mess in the first place, but without her encouragement I would have probably never done it. So thank you again, ABT, for planting the seed that got me to accomplishing one of my bucket list dreams.

That being said, I am in serious deliberation with myself to making an amendment to said Bucket List. While I still believe running a marathon is a feat that is awe inspiring, after yesterday's race I'm thinking it might not be for me. I like to think that I know my body's limits, and given the knee pain I experience after long runs I'm just not sure 26.2 miles is in the cards for me. That, and the fact that at the point where the half and marathon routes split I thought to myself, "There is no way in hell you could make me take that turn right now" tells me that maybe my heart isn't in it as much as I thought. So for now I'm going to revel in the accomplishment of running 13.1 miles (PS - winning marathon time was only seconds off my time at half the distance) and give a hearty shout out to those who did and will finish the marathon. You people are warriors.

I want to thank all of you again for providing me with your good thoughts, encouragement, and prayers as I embarked on this adventure. I know it sounds cheesy, but believe me when I say that I felt you out there on that route. Now I guess it's time to check that list to see what's next. Right now that trip to Hawaii sounds like just the right follow-up.

And She Lived To Tell About It

2011-04-30T15:43:00.002-05:00

43. ~~Enter and finish a half-marathon.~~

Unofficially, I crossed the finish line at 2 hours, 30 minutes, and 47 seconds. I had the ultimate goals of a) not dying and b) running the entire route, and I'm proud to say I accomplished both. I had a private goal of finishing around the 2:30 mark, so I'll take that as well. I'll go into more details later, but as crazy as running 13.1 miles sounds (and believe me, I was seriously questioning myself in this endeavor especially halfway through the park that never ended) it really was a great race. If you're thinking of embarking on this challenge, I highly recommend you consider the Illinois Marathon. Pretty route, great crowds, and smoothly run operations (for the runners at least, The General would like to add).

A very special congratulations to Clark, Doc, ABT, Swanny, Rikki, Matt and all the others who faced the winds and chilly start temps - it was awesome knowing you were out there living the dream as well!

Finding Inspiration

2011-04-29T07:30:00.001-05:00

During my junior high and high school years, in the days leading up to and especially the night before a big track invitational, my favorite thing to do was turn to quotes as a way to find motivation and inspiration. Twenty-four hours from now I will be embarking on what will be the longest and most grueling race of my life, so the desire to seek inspiration is intense. Below are 14 quotes, one for each of the 13 miles plus a bonus for that final tenth, which I will call upon in my quest toward the finish line.

Best of luck to my fellow runners on Friday and Saturday. Knowing that you were out there training toward this common goal was enough to keep me going some days. I can not wait to run this race with all of you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mile One: "The task ahead of you is never greater than the strength within you." - Unknown

Mile Two: "There are clubs you can't belong to, neighborhoods you can't live in, schools you can't get into, but the roads are always open." - Nike

Mile Three: "Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months and years they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance itself is merely the demonstration of their championship character." - T. Alan Armstrong

Mile Four: "Most people run a race to see who is fastest. I run a race to see who has the most guts." - Steve Prefontaine

Mile Five: "Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it." - Oprah Winfrey

Mile Six: "Racing teaches us to challenge ourselves. It teaches us to push beyond where we thought we could go. It helps us to find out what we are made of. This is what we do. This is what it's all about." - PattiSue Plummer, U.S. Olympian

Mile Seven: "I always loved running...it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs." - Jesse Owens

Mile Eight: Running is real and relatively simple…but it ain't easy. - Mark Will-Weber

Mile Nine: "It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit." - George Sheehan

Mile Ten: "Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired morning, noon, and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired. When you were younger the mind could make you dance all night, and the body was never tired. You've got to make the mind take over and keep going." - George S. Patton, U.S. Army General and 1912 Olympian

Mile Eleven: "Your body will argue that there is no justifiable reason to continue. Your only recourse is to call on your spirit, which fortunately functions independently of logic." - Tim Noakes

Mile Twelve: "Every morning in Africa a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must move faster than the lion or it will not survive. Every morning a lion wakes up and it knows it must move faster than the slowest gazelle or it will starve. It doesn't matter if you are the lion or the gazelle, when the sun comes up, you better be moving." - Maurice Greene (attributed to Roger Bannister shortly after running the first sub-4 mile)

Mile Thirteen: "In running, it doesn't matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say 'I have finished.' There is a lot of satisfaction in that." - Unknown

Finish Line: "The real purpose of running isn't to win a race, it's to test the limits of the human heart." - Bill Bowerman

What I Learned Today

2011-04-28T13:32:00.005-05:00

The good news: It appears as though Munchkin is not solely to blame for the patch of grass that refuses to grow on the spot just outside the door of our back porch.

The bad news: I know this because I have now seen with my very own eyes the exact location of our septic tank.

The really bad news: The reason I now know of the location is because a man is currently trying to reach this tank in an effort to find out why our toilets won't flush.

Pray for me.

My Turn To Join The Open Letter Campaign

2011-04-26T18:33:00.000-05:00

Dear Oprah,

I just finished watching my DVRed episode of your show, an event that has become a nightly ritual as I make supper (or thaw pre-made frozen dinners if we're being technical) for my family over the last year. Today among your guests was Phil Knight, the co-founder of Nike. A life long fan and wearer of Nike running shoes, I watched your interview in awe of the empire he has created from meager beginnings in the trunk of his car with co-founder Bill Bowerman. This company is beyond innovative in every respect, and I will proudly wear their product from head to toe on Saturday as I run in my first half-marathon (an event which I find motivation by saying to myself "If Oprah can do it, I can do it!").

That being said, I will not pretend that I didn't fight down feelings of raw jealousy as your viewers were treated to two state of the art Nike products. Oh how that watch would be wonderful for tracking my time and miles! Hearing cheers of encouragement coming from the device on my wrist would have been like having my OWN little Oprah audience standing ovation at each mile marker. And those shoes - I think they would magically cure all residual knee and ankle pains that plague me mid- and post-run. I think the mystical aura those shoes certainly possess would have performed miracles, even making an enthusiastic runner out of Tru Stories.

But alas, I guess now we will never know. This moment has passed - like those moments of the 24 years prior - and now we're just left with regret, sadness, increasing anxiety at the possibly of a lost dream, and growing bitterness. My knees, those which will probably someday be arthritic and possibly artificial courtesy of years of abuse due to the constant pounding of foot to pavement, will continue to swell, throb, creak, and ache despite the wonderful fit and comfort of my slightly inferior Pegasus 27s. Tru Stories will continue to lace up her walking/jogging shoes at irregular intervals, mumbling phrases of great disdain for this sport which she is forced to participate in two times a year despite her immense dislike of the entire idea. You could have made her a runner today, Oprah. If she had been in your audience today - surrounded by your glow and light, tightly clutching her new gifts of fitness - I just know that hearing the words "I just started running again" would have made her a believer.

We now bear the heavy burden of putting a visit to your show on each of our Bucket Lists. And if this wasn't painful enough, we are going to be left with the reality of watching our mothers live the rest of their lives without their Oprah fix. Do you realize that part of the reason my brother and I survived childhood is because of the sage advice my mom garnered from the various child rearing experts you have had on your stage? There's no telling where we would be without you and your panel of experts!

I'm not asking for gifts or trips or spa getaways or the newest technology (although I won't turn them away either if you insisted as I wouldn't want to appear rude). I'm only asking - nearly begging - you to bring us into your home. Let us breathe in the aura that is The Oprah Winfrey Show. This weekly sweepstakes your show is offering is my last ditch effort, and I ask that you don't hold it against me that I checked no for the free trial episode of O Magazine and kindly consider making the dreams of this small town girl (and the dreams of a big city turned small town girl and the mothers who tended to their every need when they weren't watching your show) come true.

Respectfully,
The Mrs.

Fives Steps to Today's Easter Entertainment

2011-04-24T19:57:00.010-05:00

1. Easter Egg Hunting

2. Playing with cousins

3. Blowing Bubbles

4. Eating chocolate (or at least what we hope was chocolate)

5. Watching a group of men dislodge a ~~go-cart~~ electric car from a newly-created-thanks-to-the-recent-monsoon-like-rains mud pit.

Not to worry though! After much deliberation on the best method of extraction, the car made it out intact to a response of great approval from the rapt audience.