Wanted...

WANTED

Baklava

Buckeyes (Peanut Butter Balls)

These two desserts have committed serious crimes against proper nutrition. If you see them, please do not approach. They are armed and dangerous with empty calories and the lure of deliciousness. Once you have interacted with them you will be under their power, unable to make rational and appropriate fueling decisions. If you see them, please report it to me and I will digest (I mean arrest) them immediately!


Hope your holiday celebrations were as "full-filling" as mine.

Here's to much success, many adventures, and a myriad of joy in the new year!

Merry Chaos-mas

I love Christmas. The giving of gifts especially to the kids. I love their excitement about the day and enthusiasm about every present they get. This year should be good because Santa was really listening!

The house is still in chaos from the remodel. The stove, microwave, and dishwasher are still in the living room. We do have the tree up although it is quite naked. This does make it a better fort. I have yet to unearth the stockings, but they eventually will make it up!

We are looking forward to one set of grandparents joining us for a low key Christmas (I serve pizza, salad, and cookies. Christmas for me is about family and not spending time slaving in the kitchen!). Mr. Spie's brother may join us as well. Then on Friday we take off to spend the weekend Christmasing with the other set of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Mr. Spie and I are hoping to get a date night (free babysitting) and connect with our long time friends who will be visiting the area as well. I am hoping to be able to run outside as it will not be dark, below zero, and covered in 17+ inches of snow! (That will be a present to me!)

Wishing all of you a restful holiday, a Merry Christmas, and a blessed New Year.

You think you've got a package...

Mortification.



Every parent has experienced it and every parent pays it back when their child is a teenager.



I have had many mortification moments. Here are some of my most memorable ones:



We were on vacation in Branson, MO with my two oldest children. At the time, they were 3 and 1. During the middle of the night the fire alarm kept going off. The resort sent a security guard to assess the problem. My son (the three year old) looked at the security guard and said quite loudly to his father. "Dad, that is a big, fat, black man." Embarrassed, we ignored the comment. He repeated the same offense during a trip to a restaurant as he described the waitress, who was within earshot, as really fat. (She got a really fat tip for that meal.) To my son, those words were no less offensive than describing a cheese cracker as orange and square. BIG, FAT, and BLACK were descriptors. Nothing more. Unfortunately, as we get older, words are connected to feelings.



My oldest son is not the only one who has given me a "mortification moment". My oldest daughter, once when we were shopping, upon seeing a person in a wheelchair, asked quite loudly what was wrong with that person's legs. I quietly explained that their legs didn't work and it could happen for a variety of reasons. We talked about abilities/disabilities at length, turning the "mortification moment" into a "teaching moment".



I am not the only one that has experienced mortification. My friend recently had her children at the pediatrician for their "Well Child" check. At the check up the doctor always states the same questions year to year. "Does any one in the house smoke? Do you always wear a helmet when you ride a bike or scooter?... Do you have any firearms in the house?" I am not sure about the origin of the last question. I attribute it to the fact that we live in Wisconsin and as you may or may not know deer hunting is quite popular here. My friend answered all of the questions appropriately. "No, no one smokes. Yes, they always wear their helmets. No, we do not have any firearms in the house." Then, her 8 year old daughter called her out. "Mom, what about the BB gun?" Busted and embarrassed, she sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten about her husband's firearm purchase.



On Wednesday, I was mortified once again. This time it was my youngest, Captain Destruction. I was upstairs when the doorbell rang. My son beat me to the door, opening it for the Fed Ex delivery man. As I rush down the stairs, CD is standing in front of the storm door (which is only glass and screen) in his BIRTHDAY SUIT. As I pushed CD out of view, I opened the door and really did not know what to say other than sorry. My jaw was hanging open. I was completely speechless. I collected my package, CD and his package, and quickly shut the door.



Note to Self: I eventually will be able to pay him back... and it will be a doozie.

Fighting Dragons

A dragon has appeared during my workouts.

I don't think it is coincidental that he appeared during our descent into the middle ages while we are remodelling our kitchen. I think that they travel hand in hand.

The first time the dragon appeared was during a swim work out. I planned to do a main set of 3 sets of 5 x100s on descending intervals. The dragon started lurking in the pool during the drills prior to the main set. Doubt that I could conquer the beast started to grow. As the dragon grew larger, my resolve grew weaker and the main set began to change. As I changed the number of repeats and swam recovery 50s (backstroke) between sets, I had to talk myself into completing my "modified on the fly" workout. I finished all but 200. The dragon did not win entirely, but it was a fierce battle which left my confidence shaken and gave me some battle scars.

Exhausted from battle, I did not workout for the next two days. On Monday, I jumped back into the deep end to do battle again. I choose to do a workout that I successfully battled before. The main set was 24x50s on a constant interval. Even though I have had success with this workout before, I saw the shadow of the dragon lurking on the bottom of the pool. This time I kept my resolve, he was held at bay, and victory was mine.

On Tuesday, the dragon reared his ugly head again. I had to run on the treadmill due to darkness and my fear of black ice. I planned to run a 10 minute warm up and four 1 mile sprint repeats with 3 minutes recovery followed by a 5- 10 minute cool down. The warm up and the first repeat went well. There was no dragon in sight. During the second mile repeat, the dragon nudged me in the side. Then, he stomped on my foot. I was caught off guard and not prepared to battle. Once again my strategy was to modify my workout and drop the pace. The dragon was relentless and soon I was running at a recovery pace for the duration of the workout. I completed my run defeated. The dragon definitely won this battle.

Today, I decided I was going to take the battle back to the pool. I had a win against my mighty foe on Monday and feeling a bit cocky, I pulled out the workout in which the dragon first appeared. Armed with knowledge with that my attitude was my greatest strength or weakness, I resolved to do battle and take down the beast once and for all. My battle strategy was to look at the sets individually and tackle each group of five like it was my only set for the swim. My plan worked. I did see the dragon lurking at the bottom of the pool. However, my determination made it undesirable for him to approach.

Soon, I will need to do battle again on the treadmill, but I think that I will bask in the glory of my pool victory for a little while longer.

Mid-evil times

What could be so difficult about remodelling a kitchen? (insert ominous laughter).

We are about midway through the remodel and it has not been rainbows and ponies. Every single one of our remodelling projects has come back and bit us in the ....., but like childbirth, we seemingly forget the pain and jump into the home improvement deep end again and again. (Remember, we do have four children. Apparently, we have the collective memory of a gnat.)

Construction began on Friday. I loaded up the kids and left for a friend's house for a three day Wii fest. My father and the husband of the friend arrived at my house for the construction. We were gone from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. When I returned home, they were still working and they had only placed TWO cabinets. (deep cleansing breath -- perhaps most of the time was spend planning. They have a system now....The rest will be a cake walk.... I will not panic) In placing the one cabinet, the stove was removed from the kitchen and joined the new refrigerator and old dishwasher in the living room. Our kitchen's amenities were slowly moving towards the middle ages. No running water, no storage, no heat (to cook).

My disappointment was apparent in my face. Mr. Spie said, "I bet you thought that we would have more done" (No duh!) Then he proceeded to tell me that his parents were coming up for the day to help. I thought that he was joking. I looked on the faces on my father and friend for a twinkle, a smirk, something. There was nothing. It wasn't a joke. His parents had told us that they were coming. Then, they told us that they weren't coming. Apparently, now they were coming for just the day. My thoughts wandered to our food situation (my MIL and FIL are sit down 4 course meal types of people). I had bought only enough take and bake pizza for 3 possibly4 men and there were no sides. Mr. Spie indicated that they were bringing food and I needed to come up with jobs for his mom to do while the men, including Mr. Spie's brother worked on the kitchen. I came up with a list of jobs and we went to bed.

The next morning we awoke and decided on doughnuts for breakfast (no cook, no mess, plates are optional). I left with the kids once again for Wii fest and eagerly anticipated a kitchen to materialize when I returned that evening. During the morning at my friend's, I was watching the little ones while she took the bigger ones to her kid's bowling league. This is when it all started going wrong. My daughter first complained of a stomach ache, then a headache, then she threw up all over my friends living room carpet. I cleaned up the mess and tried to keep all the other littles away from her while I waited for the others to return from bowling. The true friend that she is she did not kick us out upon her return and my daughter said that she "felt better." As lunch was being prepared, my daughter threw up again. This time all over my pants. This sealed my decision to come home. I brought my littles home and left the biggers there for the festival to be brought home at some later time by some undetermined person.

As I walked into my home carrying the ill one (who urped in the car on the way home as well!), I am met by a house abuzz with activity. The refrigerator wall of cabinetry was almost up and my BIL and FIL were working on the plumbing for the new dishwasher. I dropped the ill one into my room and brought in Captain Destruction to complete his nap. (He fell asleep in the car).
I walk into the kitchen to have a bomb dropped by Mr. Spie. The water has been turned off in the entire house. Our descent into the Middle Ages is now complete!!!! The Cheese (my ill daughter) who desperately wants a glass of water cannot have one. No working toilets. I am covered in urp and I cannot shower or wash the offending clothes.

Dinner is a problem. There is still no stove. Drinking is a problem. There is only soda and milk. There is work problems. Too many opinions. (A word of advice to those who are remodelling with friends and/or family. Go to the bank and get a couple of Visa gift cards. Then, when a worker on a project needs an item. HE can go to get the item rather than sending someone who doesn't exactly know what is needed and consequently will have to take three trips to the store to purchase the correct item.) Things are not going well. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

At 7:30 p.m. the Cheese is feeling better. I look at the opinions, the lack of progress, and the chaos and decide that I am going to be the undetermined person who is going to pick up the biggers at a later time seeking refuge in my van for the hour long round trip. When I arrive at my friend's house to save her from my kids, I am informed that we now have water at our house... just not hot water. GREAT. I pick up the kids and drive home. As I am ordering the kids to bed, I pull my dad aside and state that the priority tomorrow is to put in the cabinets that are needed to be placed so a stove can be in the kitchen. I don't care about water, the dishwasher, the peninsula. I NEED A STOVE. I hated to pull out the "Daddy's Little Girl" card, but desperate times require desperate measures.

On Sunday, I take the stinky family to church and Mr. Spie stays home with my dad to tackle the kitchen. After church, we drive home quickly change and return to my friends for the final day of the festival. During the brief layover, I discover (joy of joys) that the stove is IN!!! We are slowly returning to the world of the modern living. We returned early afternoon to find all but three cabinets installed. My BIL was also returning to the house to retrieve a forgotten camera which we decided to hold hostage for hot water. Things finally were looking up. We had the take and bake pizza for dinner. The hostage negotiations went well as hot water was returned to the household.

Despite three solid (?) days of work, we still need to place three cabinets. Two are imperative as they need to be in place in order to have the kitchen measured for the countertop. We have to redo some electrical work in order for the micro hood to be hung and the drainage for the new dishwasher is a complex problem that needs some serious attention. This weekend, we are imposing on another friend to help. Hopefully we will continue to progress forward and not regress back into the middle ages.

Today is my birthday.


I am now one year closer to a decade change.


I am not going to mention which decade I am going to enter next year (if I don't talk about it maybe it won't happen), but if you care to formulate a guess using the number of children and years I have been married, you can probably figure it out.

I have been struggling with my next birthday. I have tried to put various spins on it including denial and looking at age group results in the bracket up for races that I want to participate in. My thought was that if I had to go up an age group, maybe I'll go up in results as well. Sadly, my new group is as fast, if not faster than the one I am leaving. (Don't those women have jobs or something else to keep from training?)

My newest strategy involves trying to reflect upon my current decade, as I have one more year in it, and celebrate all of the things that have happened to me during that time.

My list is topped off by the addition of my four wonderful, beautiful, smart, almost always (well sometimes, maybe) well behaved children.

We moved to Wisconsin where we have made friends that will undoubtedly last us a lifetime.

I have had the ability (privilege) of being a stay at home mom where I can witness many milestones and moments from the life of my kids that I would have missed if I had continued working.

We have had the opportunity to take vacations and spend time with long time family friends creating many fond memories for ourselves and our children -- a present that will last them forever.

I became involved in endurance sports (marathons and triathlons) and as a result I have met many great people and am in the better shape now than in the beginning of the decade.

Although my list is currently only up to five, I think that it is good start. I am planning on dwelling on the positive and celebrating what I have accomplished rather than rue a decade change. I think my new approach is much healthier than denial and drowning my sorrows in a bagful of Swedish Fish, Jelly Bellies, chocolate chips, or all three (kind of an unhealthy trail mix).

KITCHEN UPDATE!!

I currently have NO kitchen. As you notice in the pictures, I have a refrigerator and a stove. My kitchen counter is a old door (which is the color of the cabinets prior to me painting them green) and saw horses. No dishwasher. No sink. So far, no problem. We are using as much paper products as possible and I wash dishes in the bathroom sink.

All of my new kitchen cabinets are stacked in order in my garage. My new refrigerator in my living room and my new range, micro hood, and dishwasher are in the other half of the garage. Installation weekend is the Friday after Thanksgiving --

Who needs big sale savings when I am going to get my KITCHEN partially back?

(We have to reuse the old counter top until the new counter top is measured and installed)

Woo Hoo!!! Let the carpentry begin.

Let the insanity begin......

Today we started the kitchen remodel. I am quite excited by the prospect of a new kitchen. I have always hated my cabinets and we were constantly changing things to make the kitchen work for us. Here are some of the fabulous "features" of the old (current) kitchen.


The first thing that probably strikes you is the color. Believe me when I say that my paint job is a real improvement over the color they were when we moved in. As you will notice the floor is a honey oak color. The walls are painted white accented with a light avocado green. The cabinets were stained dark -- like the color of baker's chocolate. It made the kitchen look like a cave. After a year living in the cave, I decided that I could not stand the color of the cabinets and I painted them a light green and "aged" them with wood stain. When all of the doors were replaced, light finally shown in the kitchen. We were no longer cave dwellers. The paint however could not hide the fact that the framed doors were coming apart and paint could not repair the poorly functioning drawers.

This is a picture of the interior of the workspace. This peninsula has been the bane of our existence. When we moved in this was a breakfast bar. The counter top extended about 8 inches on the other side. At that time, we had two children ages 2 and 6 months. We would not sit them at a breakfast bar. The breakfast bar also limited access to the backyard. If you notice, there is a sliding glass door along the wall on the other side of the peninsula. The breakfast bar in a combination with the kitchen table made using that door almost impossible. Similar to the "fix" of the color, we "fixed" the counter top as well. We dusted off the circular saw and cut off the breakfast bar making more room for the kitchen table and giving access to the backyard through the sliding door. Another feature to note is the garbage can under the counter. The overhang is a little of the left over breakfast bar. We could not see losing the counter space. Prior to the garbage can residing there numerous "right height" children gave themselves some nice goose eggs on the overhang. This part of the kitchen coined the famous phrase in our house -- "It's not a party until someone throws up, there is blood, and a head injury."


I know this is a repeat of the first image, but I forgot to point out an important "non -safety" feature of my kitchen. Note the stove, it is right next to the doorway. I have always been paranoid that I will have a handle of a pan sticking out over the edge of the stove top, into the door opening and a child will whiz by and send food sailing and (most likely) send a child to the hospital for burns. It is obvious that the kitchen designer did not have kids. (We did in fact have a pan fly, but it was a husband, not a child that caused the demise of that dinner -- I think that it may have been on purpose as he was quick to suggest pizza after he cleaned up the mess). The stove will move over to the right and a small cabinet will been added to the left of the stove for additional storage and safety.

There is something "off" about this picture. Did you notice it? It's not the mess. It is the fact that the sink is not centered on the window. As Mr. Spie and I were standing in the kitchen talking about what we would like, I said that I would really like to have the sink centered on the window. He said that he never really had noticed that it wasn't centered on the window before. (We have lived here 6 years). Now, he says it bothers him. -- The sink has been centered on the window in the new kitchen plan.

Wait? What is that ringing? Do you hear the telephone? Where is the telephone? Why can't I find the telephone!?!You can't find the telephone because it is in this wall of cabinets. The "bat phone" as we lovingly call it sits behind door #1 in the middle row of cabinets. The cabinets are only 13.5" deep so they do not hold much bigger than a box of cereal. The top row of cabinets I used to hold food. The middle row held the telephone and telephone necessities, napkins, kitchen linens, etc. I had small appliances, which you can see, in the bottom row. This made the Fry Daddy very accessible to Captain Destruction. He is also the reason for the missing cabinet door. As he was climbing the cabinets to get his own "snack" the door broke off. We had repaired at least three other cabinets after they met the same fate.

Our new cabinets will not be green. My stove will not be a safety hazard. The view will be the same from both sides of the sink. I will have functioning drawers. All cabinets will have doors and the "goose egg maker" over hang will be no more.

Up next -- pictures of the interim kitchen.

a questioning blog about nothing

1. Is it right to feel guilty about missing a workout during the off-season?

Last Monday, Mr. Spie left really early in the morning (3:00 a.m.) on a business trip. Sunday, in preparation for his trip, I made him get the dreadmill out of hibernation as I will not be able to run outside until his return. (What a waste of daylight savings time ending!) Monday morning, shortly before my alarm went off (5:30 a.m.), Captain Destruction was wandering around the house. I captured him and snuggled with him until he fell asleep again. This action, however, did not leave me enough time to get my run in before I had to rouse the troops for school. I need to get over feeling guilty over a missed workout -- especially a missed workout during off season.

2. When do you cross the line talking about an athletic event you participated in?

In my swim class, there is a woman that talked incessantly the first day about the marathon she had just completed. (most likely the Chicago). Every sentence was "When I was in mile 20 of the marathon..." or "I am still so very tight after the marathon", "My foot hurts still after running the marathon" I completely understand the excitement of completing your event.


On Sunday, a week later, the marathon continued..."I was so elated to get out and run this week. It was the first time that I ran since the marathon." "It was a great run, a little slow though because I just did a marathon". I listened in silence as she talked to her friend, but my in head I was thinking "Enough already!" I am torn between making a comment like "I know. After I ran my first marathon it was hard to get back into the groove, it becomes easier after subsequent marathons" or tracking how many weeks that she will continue the marathon talk.


3. Is it wrong to anxiously await the arrival of your Ebay purchase? Does this giddiness become weird if the purchase is new set of Carmichael training dvds?


On Tuesday, I discovered in the most unfortunate way the Captain Destruction had gotten a hold of my one and only trainer dvd. It is (was) a time trial work out and as I was in the middle of the final "power interval" of 5 minutes sustained at 100+ rpm. I was staring at the clock, intently, wishing that time would go faster than it was. Rather than going faster it stalled, then stopped -- at 1:46 of the interval left to go. I kept pedalling waiting for it to correct itself.

Pedalling. Waiting. Pedalling. Waiting. Still pedalling. Still waiting.

Oh, Tatar Sauce!!

Finally, I stop, get off the bike, fast forward the dvd a few seconds, get back on the bike and complete the never ending interval. I needed to replace this dvd. I love being told what to do in training and at 5:00 a.m I am not creative nor motivated enough to do a real intense work out on my own. An Internet shopping trip was in order. So, Happy Birthday!! early to me, I now am awaiting 5 new dvds!! Four of which I will use. The fifth is a mountain bike workout that I intend to convince my husband to use.


4. Is remodelling your kitchen the during the holidays pure insanity or a great way to keep company at bay?


I am at T minus 18 days before we are ripping out the kitchen cabinets. At best I am looking at 1 month without a complete kitchen. The appliances are expected to take residence in my garage on the 19th and installation has been scheduled for the Friday after Thanksgiving. I am excited about the new kitchen. I have to admit that I am even a bit more excited at the prospect of not having to entertain during the holidays. No kitchen = no food + no cleaning, because why bother!


5. At what point do you write a letter to a store manager?


Tuesday is my grocery shopping day. After I drop the two oldest off at school, the two youngest and I drive to the grocery store with list in hand. Our school does a grocery store gift card fundraiser, so I shop that store to give money to the school and get a discount on my tuition. I arrive at the store and am greeting by signs that indicate that due to a system upgrade starting a four a.m. and until further notice, they will be unable to accept gift cards and debit cards for shopping purchases. We walk in and stop by the service desk to see if the upgrade is still going on. It is and now I cannot shop there because my methods of payment (gift card and debit card) are now eliminated. I gather the kids and return to the car to shop at a different store as we are desperate for food. As I drive the 15 minutes back into town, I wonder why advance notice could not have been given about this upgrade. I could have moved my shopping day, planned in advance. Surely they must have known this ahead of time. I am not the only person in the world that shops once a week am I?


Upon arrival at grocery store number 2, my children indicate that they would like to ride in a truck cart. We examine 3 truck carts before we find one that has both steering wheels. I have two children riding so I need two steering wheels. The drawback to the cart with the dual steering wheels is that there are no functioning seat belts. I decide that the steering wheels outweigh the seat belts and I will deal with the consequences of my choice as they appear. Shopping goes fairly smoothly. The two year old (Captain Destruction) is doing fairly well. He pops out of the cart when I stop, but gets in when I request him to. Near the end of our shopping adventure, he starts to get a little antsy and starts to climb the outside of the truck cart. I am not driving fast. I am stopping frequently to put items in the cart, so I am not too concerned when he rides on the sides of the truck cart, but am adamant that he will not ride on the roof and stop and request that he get off and back in the cart when he attempts to "truck surf".


I am in the last aisle, searching for the elusive last item on my list and a gentleman approaches me. He is the operations manager of the store (as indicated by his name tag) Here is our conversation.


Operations Manager --"I just wanted you to know that it is unsafe for him to ride on top of the truck" (Mind you that the cart is not moving at this time and I am standing still looking for my last item -- CD must have climbed on the truck while I was searching for the item)

Me -- "I understand that you are doing your job, but understand that I am just trying to get my grocery shopping done as quickly as possible"

Operations Manager --"But, if he should fall...."


"If he should fall, I wouldn't dream of holding the store responsible"


Operations Manager --"Just as long as we have had this conversation" -- and he walks away.


Now, I am a little upset (insert a nastier word to get the real emotion). I find the elusive item, with CD in the truck cart and see the Operations Manager talking to a wine vendor. I stop by him and wait for him to finish.


Me "I just wanted to let you know that part of my problem is that this cart's seat belts are not functioning. If they were, my son would be belted in."


Operations Manager -- "I doubt that that would stop him from climbing on the top of the cart"


Me "I don't think that you have ever had a precocious two year old and he would be belted in"


Operations Manager -- "I have had my share of precocious two year olds"


Then I walked away. As I waited in line, because I needed the food, I seethed. Then the lady behind me jumped line in front of me and when I questioned her about it she wasn't even apologetic.


Fortunately, it is not a tale all of woe. A cashier from heaven appeared and took me immediately, helped me bag my groceries, and I was out of the store before the tears appeared and the line cutting lady even had her groceries on the belt.


NOW, after all this questioning and contemplation, I still have no answers and have realized that I have a lot more to remodel than just my kitchen. I obviously need to remodel my attitude and most significantly my parenting skills (according to the operations manager at my local grocery store).

snap shots of my life -- a random blog

FRIDAY'S AFTERNOON ADVENTURE:

Don't let his adorable look fool you. Captain Destruction is in full force. I had just finished washing the hardwood floors and decided to take a bathroom break prior to my next cleaning project. My 4 year old knocks on the door and tells me that Captain Destruction is playing with that "thing I make fries in". I quickly exit to find C.D. playing with the Fry Daddy (not plugged in but full of frying oil) in his birthday suit. He is stirring the oil with a lint brush and my hand mixer already had been submerged. I pick him up. He is slick with oil. I look at my once clean floor, noticing the oil puddle that is now soaking into the hardwood. Then I look at the clock. 15 minutes until I have to pick up the others from school. I quickly wipe down the boy and place him in a chair and tell him to sit while I clean up the mess. Two year old boys don't sit. He kept getting up and leaving oil pawprints all over the floor on his way to come "help you". I placed him in the chair two more times before I secured him in the chair so he could not get up -- much to his dismay. I was able to get the mess cleaned up and C.D. fully wiped down (and dressed) and to the school on time. The car, however, still smells a little bit like fried chicken.

FRIDAY NIGHT'S SCARE:

My children's school had a Sausage and Kraut dinner on Friday night. It included a costume contest. I gave in this year and pulled out a bridesmaid dress, bought a crown, and became MISS KRAUT 2008. I had beauty pagent hair, put on make-up (a once a year occurance, if that), and wore heels. I had a great time and my friends joked that they would never see me in make up again -- I agreed. The very scary part was that people were coming up to my husband that night and on Sunday and telling him that I looked great and he should have taken me out after the dinner.

WOW, I must look really bad in everyday life if an overdone beauty pagent makeover garners compliments.

SATURDAY'S REVELATION:

If you read my previous post you know that we Trick or Treated on Sunday. Saturday was set aside for pumpkin carving. I have pumpkin carving issues and we will just leave it at that.

MONDAY'S PROBLEM as a result of SUNDAY'S LESSON:

On Sunday, I began a swim class. I have felt stagnant in my swim and am hoping that improving my body positioning and correcting some stroke flaws will improve my times and efficiency as I prepare to do longer triathlon distances next year. The class went well. We worked on the skate postition with flippers and were given the task to practice. I swam on Monday and practice I did. I incorporated the skate drills at the beginning, middle, and end of my workout. My flippers did me in as I now have a rub blister (burn) about 1.5 inches long on the top of my foot. It hurts, itches, and burns all at once. I moved Tuesday's run to another day out of fear rubbing the burn even more and having it actually bleed. I now am searching for protection from my flippers for my next practice session on Thursday and lesson on Sunday. If any one has any suggestions, please let me know.

Oh, I also wanted to mention that it SNOWED Monday. How crazy is that?

Here's hoping for some solutions and sanity--

and perhaps an ambush from Clinton and Stacy as I apparently need a makeover!

..a relationship blueprint -- a work in progress

This past Sunday Mr. Spie and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary.

Mr. Spie and I 12 years ago. We were so young and carefree!

Mr. Spie and I now (plus 2 years. I don't like having my picutre taken.) We are so much older, ummm I mean wiser now!

This anniversary was a little different this year. This past summer, Mr. Spie's brother and his wife divorced. This has deeply affected Mr. Spie.

I would describe our relationship as "casual" -- not in commitment, but in attitude. I have no idea the date of our first date/kiss/engagement. Generally, we do not buy each other anniversary presents. A card and a kiss have always sufficed. We have always operated under the pretense that anniversary present money would be better spent on one of the kids activities/clothes/ home improvement projects... the list goes on and on. This philosphy also somewhat applies to Christmas as well. We do not go overboard on gifts for each other. The largest gift to one another comes from the "kids". Christmas is for others and not for ourselves.

Throughout the years and the many children, we have developed our own interests. We skillfully negotiate time so everyone can do their favorite things. We also support each other interests (I'll give kudos to Mr. Spie to being way more supportive of my interests than I of his. He has endured long training runs, purchased me road bikes, and bike trainers. He has watched several marathons in inclement weather with our children in tow.) Our joint interests, however, have suffered with the addition of the children. This added to the significant lack of alone time sprinkled with his brother's divorce has caused Mr. Spie alarm.

He is fearful that we are or will soon be drifting apart because our personal interests do not coincide, our shared interests have been shelved due to lack of time, and there is little to no alone time due to work, parenting, volunteering, and all the other "must dos".

I am not hearing the alarms (or they are not as loud for me). I feel that our foundation is still strong. He is my best friend. I tell him all of my secrets. I can show him the unpleasantness that is inside of me without fear and judgement. He is the first person I want to tell any news to -- good or bad. Our "inside jokes" still make me crack up and we are adding more and more each year.

After listening to Mr. Spie's fears and being a little shaken by the BIL's divorce, I will concede that in our marriage house there is some structural support that we need to work on. Our relationship reinforcement construction, thus far, has three steps.

1. We have arranged with one of our friends a babysitting co-op. We dump, er drop, our children off at their house so we can have a "date night". Then we reciprocate the next month. Athough, the only gives us "date night" 6 times a year, it is six times a year more than we are doing currently and it also eliminates one of the barriers to our going out -- the expense of a babysitter.

2. We are trying to find more shared interests. This has resulted in Mr. Spie agreeing to participate in an team adventure race with me in 2009. Although he is not excited about the run portions, he is excited about the bike. I am excited about having the experience with him. We also have found some other races that we might consider in the future. Mr. Spie is fired up about the Tour de Donut -- but who wouldn't be?

3. We are trying to make a conscious effort to do more things as a family --bike rides, walks, daytrips, going out to dinner. If often seems that we are going in a million different directions and we rarely do anything fun as a group (unless you count shopping for new appliances fun -- it wasn't fun for anyone last night!)

After we get these structural supports in and secured, checking that they will not shift or change, we undoubtedly will continue on our relationship reinforcement adding more strength to the relationship that we have already built.

I have to admit that I am interested as to what our building will look like in the years to come.

a frightening race

I love fall! The colors, the perfect running weather, the food!

I have decided I hate Halloween. Halloween has become all about competition and I have not trained at all for the race.

My memories of Halloween as a child are of my mom making my sister and my costumes. At school we would have a Halloween party. We would do no "real" work. Instead we would play games, have a costume parade, and party. Halloween night, my friends and I would go through my neighborhood, their neighborhoods, and any other adjoining neighborhoods that we could prior to the designated time I had to be home trick or treating. I would come home, examine my loot, and collapse into bed in a vain attempt to be refreshed for the next school day.

The only thing that is similar to my Halloween of yesteryear and Halloween today is that my kids wear costumes. (Well, it's not the only thing, but follow along with me)

Halloween starts in my neighborhood on October 1st when the Halloween outdoor decorations appear. My neighbor across the street has a tree decorated with ghosts and web, orange lights on their porch, and pumpkins on their steps along with a hay bale. Upon seeing their Martha Stewart-esque display, my oldest daughter, N, asks me when we are going to put up our Halloween decorations. I answer that we don't have that many Halloween decorations. As I end my sentence, N adds on the end of my thought "and if you put them out, that means that you will have to put them away too." (Yes, I admit that I have become that jaded about holidays. I have often contemplated if anyone would even notice if I didn't put up the Christmas tree. It is Newton's law that what goes up must come down. I would like to add to the end of the adage "and be put away by a mom".)

The costumes are another ordeal. My kids go to a private school. There is no Halloween party, but we do have a Sausage and Kraut dinner fundraiser where there is a costume parade and a COSTUME CONTEST. The thrill of having the designation of best costume is enough to drive me and others to extremes. The first two years, I sewed beautiful costumes for my children. R, my oldest son was Obi Wan Kenobi, N was Jasmine, and V, my youngest daughter, was Snow White. I went as a woman in a shower complete with duck, shower cap, curtain, and scrubbie. No prizes were won. The next year, I broke down and bought R a storm trooper costume (he REALLY wanted it and I could not see how to make it), N was Ariel the mermaid with hand drawn scales, and V was a golden winter princess. Jaded from the year before, I did not dress up. Again, no prizes. This year, I have thrown in the towel. My sewing machine is broken due to my youngest, informally known as Captain Destruction, and in order to save some money for household expenses (also caused by Captain Destruction), I mandated that we would wear costumes that we already have for dress up clothes that have not been worn EVER to a parade let alone to trick or treat. The oldest two have accepted the mandate and are creatively solving the problem. V melts into a pile of child and sobs, SOBS about costumes. This is still unresolved.

My problems with costume competition is only the crust of my bitterness. Trick or treating is the filling to my bitter pie. Where we live .......

WE DON'T TRICK OR TREAT ON HALLOWEEN!

What you say? That is absurd! I think so too.

The first year we moved here we missed trick or treating altogether. Trick or treating is always the Sunday before Halloween from 3 to 6 in the evening. There is no dark. There is no sense of getting away with something because you are out on a school night.

(This year Halloween is on a Friday night. Why can't they trick or treat on a Friday night? I cannot wait until next year when Halloween is on a Saturday and see what they do or the year after when it actually falls on a Sunday. Will we trick or treat on the Sunday before the Sunday that is Halloween? Remind me and I will let you know.)

In addition to the day of trick or treating, I have issue with parent involvement in trick or treating. When our family trick or treats, Mr. Spie loads up the wagon with the little ones and the whole costumed clan WALKS around our neighborhood, visiting neighbors and collecting goodies. They are not out the whole time. Generally, he makes the kids walk for most of the time. It is not a "free candy bus tour" through the neighborhood. Oh yes, we do have "free candy bus tours" through my neighborhood.

We live on the "outskirts" of a very affluent neighborhood. My neighborhood is known for full size candy bars, Jone's Soda, and Oriental Trading Company crafts. As a result of this reputation, parents from other neighborhoods, even adjoining cities, drive their children and others in vans, pickup trucks, SUVs to our neighborhood for trick or treating. These children, however, do not walk from house to house. Instead, they ride from driveway to driveway in the back of the truck. Trick or treaters (mostly middle school- aged and up) jump out of the vehicle and run to the door while the engine is idling. They collect their loot, jump on the back of the truck again to drive the 10 feet to the next driveway.

The reputation of our level of loot has also cause me to question my treat choices from year to year. Dum Dums? Your house will be labeled DUMB. Those peanut butter kisses? The KISS OF DEATH! One year, my neighbors (not the ones with the ghost tree but other neighbors) were giving away Pez dispensers. Not just the candy, but candy and the dispenser. My candy choices have varied from year to year. My choices are primarily based on what candy I am less likely to consume. One year, frustrated by all of the high school kids that were trick or treating at my house, I gave away Clifford and Bob the Builder fruit snacks, a favorite of little ones which trick or treating is really for anyway. You would think I was giving away gold. I am already contemplating what candy I am going to give away this year. I am actually thinking about what my kids have received in the past years so I do not seem out of place in my neighborhood. As I think these thoughts, I take a step back and realize that I already am competing with the house decorations, the costumes, and now the CANDY?

I have decided that I am going to contact the Halloween race directors. I don't think that I am physically able to compete this year as I have not trained properly and am injured (well, at least my sewing machine is). Maybe they will take pity on me and grant me a medical waiver/roll over. Then I will have a whole year to gear up and train for next year's competition.

I just didn't listen...

As my alarm went off a 5:40 this morning, I decided that I didn't want to get up and ride the trainer. I awoke Mr. Spie (which I am sure he loved!!) and asked if he had plans for this afternoon or may I ride outside. He grunted something about no plans for him and I made plans for me to ride outside and settled down for more sleep.

At 12:30 I pulled my bike outside and had Mr. Spie check the pressure the tires. One of the tires did not want to inflate. After three attempts, we decided on "good enough". (Warning #1)

I fastened on my helmet and took off. I was joyous to be riding outside. I rode 10 minutes away from my house and decided that my seat was not comfortable. I had shifted the nose down so I could ride more comfortable on the trainer. It was not comfortable on the road. (Warning #2)

I pulled over onto a driveway and set about adjusting my seat. As I was pulling my tools out of the bike bag, the zipper on the bike bag broke. (Warning #3)

I fixed the seat. Removed the bike bag and carried it back home. I threw it in the house and yelled to Mr. Spie that I was still riding and I was just going to carry my phone. His reply "But, you won't have a tube or any tools." (Warning #4)

I set out again and realized that my seat was still loose. Dismounted after not even getting out of the driveway and adjusted the seat again. (Warning #5)

Seat adjusted. Helmet on. Finally riding. Feeling good. 40 minutes in and it starts to sprinkle. (Warning #6)

I decided that I really wanted to get my ride in and as long as the pavement does not get wet I would continue my ride. I turned to make a second loop and it starts to rain. (Warning #7)

Cold and on wet pavement, common sense made me abort my mission and take the "quick" way home. I suddenly feel slower than I was before. I look down and I have a rear flat. In the rain. Miles from home. In 50+ degree weather. Wearing shorts.

I called Mr. Spie to come rescue me. His answer "Why did you get a flat?"

I got a flat because I didn't listen to the warnings.

control freak-out

I have decided to "out" myself. I have a secret to share with you. Shh! don't tell anybody else, but I am a bit of a control freak.

I justify my budgets, schedules, and routines as a way for me to create order in my chaotic life. Ask me about any day, I can tell you who has what activity, if there are any appointments, and what we are having for dinner (perhaps lunch too). I'll admit that I really like knowing what is going to happen next. I can plan for it, change the schedule, arrange care or transportation if need be weeks in advance. If I am invited to a social event and the invitation is extended casually or ambiguously, it drives me crazy. If the schedule is changed at the last minute, it will throw off the entire day. I am really not a "go with the flow" kind of gal.

Guess what? I love training plans. Shocking isn't it? Give me a plan and I will follow it religiously. The more detailed the plan, the better. Swim sets with prescribed rest intervals. Fantastic! Runs with fartleks assigned. Tell me when and I will do them. Timed rides with set sprints are my idea of heaven. This is why I hate off-season.

I finished my last triathlon of the season a few weekends ago. My 2008 training plan was followed through to its completion. Now, I am uncomfortably sitting in a place where my first race of 2009 (2009's races are already planned of course) is not until the beginning of June. My training plan for the race will not start until end of February which leaves me 5 months of being sans a training plan.

I think that I may be getting hives.

I have attempted to get relief by making my own training plans (homeopathic medicine, if it were), but the details are not there. I have assigned days to bike, swim, and run. I have determined general types of workouts that need to be done -- time trial training, long sustained rides, sprint swim sets, continuous swims, etc. However, the details are not written out. The pages in the training calendar for next week are blank.

Where is that calamine lotion?

Although it seems absurd for a control freak to admit this --

I NEED SOMEONE OR SOMETHING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!!

I have been combing the Internet looking for detailed plans that match my prescribed type of swim/bike/run workout. I have checked out triathlon books to look at their off-season plans. (Many of the books I found do not have very specific off season plans.) I have discussed the possibility of a coach with Mr. Spie, but alas it is not in the budget -- children are expensive.

Are these spots growing larger?

I have some tentative solutions to my ir-rash-tional dilemma. I will sign up for swim lessons in October and am planning on purchasing some bike training DVDs, but these salves do not provide full relief for what ails me. In order to find relief, one of two things need to happen.

1. I need to give up some control and be able to go with the flow. (This is not very likely)

or

2. I need to find and start following a plan.

Because I have not yet been able to find the correct prescription for what ails me, you may want to purchase some stock in Benadryl. It looks like it is going to be a long five months of me itchin' for my training plan to start.

it's all in the numbers

I am obsessed with numbers. As the CEO/CFO of the family, I create and attempt to adhere to many budgets -- food budgets, clothing budgets (Did you know that children actually grow out of their things? The nerve!), activity budgets, gas budgets, etc, -- Any expense that is related to the household or family, I have assigned a limiting number to it. Call it what you will, organized or control freak, everything has a number. Sometimes the numbers are met and sometimes the numbers are exceeded. Generally, the excess, within reason, does not bother me that much. UNLESS...UNLESS of course you are talking about the numbers I assign to my triathlons and triathlon training.

After each of my races, once the "final" numbers are posted, I scrutinize and compare them to previous race results, training bests, potential, and the field. I doubt that Alan Greenspan did as much analysis as I do. I even have a spreadsheet devoted to my race results that calculates my percentage in the field for total and each event. With every positive I see, (Way to go!! My bike time was 5 minutes faster than the last time I did that route) there is almost always an accompanying negative (Although I cut 5 minutes off my bike, my bike rank was X lower than my swim rank and my swim rank was X lower than my run. Gosh, I really need to step up my bike and swim. ) In theory, this can be a great way to identify weaknesses and train to your strengths. However, for me, the analysis creates a variety of debits and credits which have to be reconciled in the "triathlon training bank".

During training, quality deposits must be made. On my bike, I have created a speed limit that must be exceeded. Should I fall below my limit, I question whether or not my ride is worth a deposit. In my swimming, I get upset if I do not make my assigned intervals or if my timed long sustained swim takes longer than ones previous. I consider if my swim workout was a debit or a credit. Consciously, I know that I should just enjoy being able to swim, bike, and run and relish being alone (a rare occasion as a mother of four). I should not beat myself up because I did not meet a self-imposed numerical goal.

There is a difference between knowledge and action. Today, my numbers obsession went into action.

When the alarm went off way too early for my swim, I contemplated rearranging my training schedule so I could sleep some more. (On Sunday, I completed my last sprint race for the season and I am not recovering as rapidly as usual. It may be related to the fact that I was camping and hiking the weekend of the triathlon, but who's to say?) I talked myself into swimming and got my body and my gear ready to go. As I am walking out the room, my two year old suffered from an attack of what best can be describes as "the terrible twos". He was screaming about a pillow and water, but when offered those things, he screamed even louder. I aborted the swimming mission and focused energy on getting the 2 year old calmed down, so he would not wake up the entire house, and back asleep. Finally, he found the right pillow, received water with ICE(always a prerequisite for him -- I still have not discovered which brother or sister I need to thank), and settled down to sleep. Too late to swim and return in time for Mr. Spie to get to work, I mentally rearranged my training schedule, deciding to run after school drop off with the two year old in the jogger and swim on Saturday. Then, I bed down for another 45 more minutes of glorious sleep.

After I dropped all of the urchins at their respective schools, the two year old and I returned home to start the run. I gave him food, a toy, and strapped him in for the long haul. He seemed content and I was celebrating the day and my additional sleep. My celebration was a little presumptuous. My route, due to some road construction, is three different intersecting loops. We walked for a warm up and then were off. The start of the run was uneventful and very pleasurable. My passenger was happy. I was happy. Then the road changed direction and I was running into the wind. I was using a double jogging stroller. Have you ever used a double jogging stroller? It is a little like pushing a weighted sail into the wind. Passenger was still happy. I was working hard, but happy. All was good. The training deposit was growing at a significant rate.

At start of the second loop, passenger was done with his food and was bored. Two year old + bored =trouble. At first he was rubbing his hand against the wheel, adding resistance to the run (into the wind). Not satisfied with the entertainment value, he decided to drive his toy car on the wheel of the stroller as I ran. This was entertaining until the point where he dropped it. I had to stop, run back, and pick up the toy. Now, bored and toyless, the passenger was NOT happy. He struggled to get out of his seat restraint, writhing back and forth like a fish out of water. Passenger, finally breaking free from the chains that bound him, stood up in his seat, turned around, and looked at me triumphantly as the stroller tipped backwards causing me to suddenly stop and right the stroller to avoid a football style pile up. Passenger decides he is going to sit in the other side of the stroller, without the seat belt. This is not acceptable. Passenger is strapped into stroller, seat belts are tightened, and we repeat the Houdini escape routine a couple more times.

As this is happening, I am still arguing with myself about running xx miles - the three loops. Passenger is obviously not on board with my plan, but I am going to persevere. I had been stopping the watch for a more accurate time every time I had to stop and will not admit defeat. If I wave the white flag and walk, I would have to rearrange schedules to make up the run tomorrow -- doubling up the workouts. You see, I planned to run xx miles this week at a xx:xx pace and if stopped and walked I would not make my numbers -- my deposit will be off.

Near the end of the second loop, I began bargaining with passenger. Realizing the third loop would never happen, I was promising the world (television) and the stars (more food) to have him sit so I could at least complete the second loop. The negotiations were tough as passenger held all of the cards but he finally sat down and we continued on our way home to the sounds of "Mom, the neighborhood tour guide" dialog. (Look, there's a dog. Look at that funny mailbox. Do you see those pretty flowers? Let's count down the houses to our house.) At some point during the intense negotiations, I FORGOT TO STOP MY WATCH. Now my numbers are OFF, SKEWED, WRONG, INVALID. I had no idea how long the negotiations lasted. As I ran the last few feet to my home, I am still trying to calculate how much time was spent in negotiations. Without an accurate time, I cannot calculate my pace. I cannot correctly bank my "run deposit" in my "triathlon bank". My run has become the pocket change that you leave in the cushions of your couch only useful if you need to give a child a bribe or allowance.

I walked into the house feeling physically and fiscally poor. Although I know I worked hard, if I could not quantify the effort of my run through numbers, was it really worth the effort? Did I really make a deposit? As I sat and recovered to the sounds of Dora and Map and cereal being eaten, I decided that even though I did not earn the amount of triathlon currency I had expected, I still worked hard for the deposit I had and decided it was worth a trip to the bank. After all, for me lately, it only comes down to the numbers.

The entry in the workout calendar for today:

Run x.x miles

roads I travel

For more than 6 months I have stalked -- oops I mean read many triathlon/life related blogs on the Internet. My trip down the "dark side" started out innocently enough. I started training for triathlons as my chosen sport, not just a way to cross train for marathons, and I was searching for some motivation, support, validation, and perhaps a local training partner to accompany me on my journey. I did find motivation and support from some "friends"(blogs). However, I did not find a local training partner, perhaps a blessing for him/her, considering the title of my blog, but I digress.



Mr. Spie, tired of me relating stories about people I have never met and a little concerned over my need to follow the training "soap operas" of the blogs I read daily, hinted that I had an addicition and had often joked that the next step in my addiction of blog reading is blog writing. Not one to disappoint, here I am composing a blog.


For about a week, I have had my blog formatted-- ready to write. During those seven days and most significantly right now I have come to realize that the process of writing a blog is certainly harder than reading blogs. While it initially seems that it would be simple to put your world (thoughts and feelings included) into black and white, it truly is more complicated than that. Many of the blogs that I read are insightful, inspirational, or a way to humorously escape for a moment or two from daily life. Right now, as I am parked in front of the computer, simultaneously trying to write and ignore my children, I have realized that I am terrified by the power of the blog. I am currently doubting my ability to inspire, be insightful, or even entertain anyone other than my children. I do not have a 100% success rate with them. (See above comment about currently ignoring them).


Additionally, once you hit that orange publish post button, you are putting yourself out there for people to relate to, judge, complement, criticize, etc.... This is very hard to wrap my brain around as I vehemently dislike phoning in any take out order and rarely will use any kind of drive-thru for fear of being judged purely on my speech (or ordering ability). When given a choice between phone and face, face wins every single time. Now I am venturing in a forum that I will be judged on thoughts, feelings, and writing ability with no face to face interaction possible? What am I thinking?


My oldest daughter was recently asked to join a competition gymnastics team at her gym. We had one "no obligation" week to try on the training schedule and see how it fit with our lives and school. At the end of the week, I asked her if she liked it and and if she wanted to continue with team or go back to recreational gymnastics. She thought about it for a while and said that she really liked it, but she wanted to go back to recreational gymnastics. Mystified, I asked her why. Her answer was because it is hard. After further discussion, she decided that she would give it a try for a couple months and we would re-evaluate again at the first of the year.


I am now following in my daughter's footsteps and attempting to do something that I like, joining a blogging community that I enjoy and has given me much, that is entertwined with something that will be hard, letting down my guard and putting real self out there for all to see.


Let's hope the re-evaluation process at the first of the year goes well for my daughter and for me.