Strong-willed

Today, while playing outside, my daughter took a step off the curb and into the street/parking lot. While there were no cars in sight, the rules are the same, "NO!"

She of course got her feelings hurt hearing her least favorite word on the planet and had a mini-meltdown... In the road I'm trying to pull her out of.

I picked her up and got her on the grassy embankment, which she continued to flail around screaming until she fell down face first. Did I mention she was head-first down the embankment? Yeah.

So she's throwing a tantrum and I'm trying to pick her up off the ground. She starts screaming more and refuses to let me help.

My daughter would actually rather be face down in the dirt than let me help her when she's mad at me.

Really kid? I'm trying to get your face out of the mud. You really don't want my help because I hurt your feelings and told you no?

Saying my daughter is strong-willed is a bit of an understatement here.


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Sore loser

After more than 48 hours, the soreness is really starting to set in. (Who thought my running a 5K was a good idea?) The worst part about it is I'm not even that sore from the waist down.

My pain is actually from the waist up!  Yup, my legs feel fine-ish.  It's my poor arms, neck, shoulders and back that hurt!  Probably has something to do with shoving 30 extra pounds up and down mountains (they were barely hills, but it's my time to embellish here people).  Why the hell did I do this to myself?  (And when's the next one?)

I think the part that I hate the most about the soreness is that it just solidifies the fact that I'm weak.  I need to do more upper-body physical training.  And I really, really hate that.  I've never been as strong on top as I am on bottom.  I have genetically tested, amazingly strong thighs.  No seriously.  I was born with lower body strength. 

My upper body though, is weak.  Its only workout is to hold up my giant boobs. 

It's annoying to know that my old Navy chief was right about all his crazy fitness broo-ha-ha he went on and on about in GTMO.  I mean this guy was the kind of guy who would ride his bike for miles for fun, then get out and run what seems like the circumference of the island as training and then hop back on his bike to go pick up something across the island.  In my mind, he's a physical fitness masochist. (No offense Chief!)  His wife is just as physically fit.  I'm pretty sure their son (who's quite possibly the only kid on the planet cuter than my own) will be an Olympian some day.  He's well bread.

But this Chief is the kind of guy who went on and on about how you need a strong core and a strong upper body if you want to be a good runner.  I didn't listen much because I didn't want to be a good runner.  I still don't.  But I'd like to not hurt as much.  So I guess I should have listened. 

I guess it's time to start googling how to stretch and work on my core and upper body. 

My first 5K

Yesterday marked a first in my life. I voluntarily ran 3.1 miles. Let me tell you how awful of a decision that was...

First of all, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking signing up for the 5K in the first place. Well, no. I know why. I was promised a Chick-Fil-A sandwich at the end. And while I can drive a short distance to get one of those delicious sandwiches pretty much any time I'd like, I don't. I'm too lazy and cheap to drive out of my way for it. (Thank god I'm that lazy or I'd be the size of a house!)

Anyway, Abby was supposed to run with me. (This was her idea actually and I jumped on board.) But alas, her work schedule got in the way and she couldn't make it. I was ready to back out for no reason at all other than I didn't want to.

But since I had posted all over my Facebook page that I was running in this 5K, I really couldn't. (Well I could have, and then I would have gotten all sorts of questions, then felt guilty and then gotten depressed...) There was nothing more that I wanted than to oversleep and miss the race. Turns out, Elly wasn't going to let that happen since she was up bright and early (before 0500) for race day.

So we packed up and headed out. I don't like to wake up early. I hate being up at 0500. I hate driving to new locations I've never been in the dark. I hate paying tolls. And I hate even more when the toll guy asks me where I'm going so early in the morning and I tell him a 5K and he starts cheering. I grumbled a few not nice things back. He promptly gave me my change and let me through. What did the guy expect? I had voluntarily combined all of my least favorite things into one early morning. Why would I be nice to some poor, unsuspecting schmuck?

Get to the race, get my bib, and then it's the stand around and wait game. Not a big deal, except Elly is with me. She's not exactly patient. Especially if she's been up since 'O-Dark-Thirty.
 

(Don't mind the happy face.  I'm only smiling because I wanted a good picture, not because I was happy to be there.)

Here's a little tip for you. Don't bring a grumpy toddler to a race with you. Especially not your very first race. And especially if you're going to have to put up with her all day long.

Race starts and I wait for the masses to clear out before I start. I need to be at the back. I'm slow and I'm pushing a stroller.

Another tip, don't get your kid weighed four days before your first race because you'll only focus on how much extra weight your pushing when you head up a hill. You'll only bitch about the extra 23lbs 4oz plus stroller dead weight that you're lugging around. Especially if that dead weight sleeps the whole way.

Also, it'll make you extra angry when you see young children pass and lap you. I swear, I wanted to trip those little brats. However, one day I want that to be Elly.

So there I was, trudging away at my first 5K. When out of nowhere, the speed-lightening runners were already on their way back. I seriously was just hitting the one mile marker. Assholes. The entire rest of the race all I could think of was "Those asshats are going to eat all the chicken sandwiches!" Run faster!

But I completed the race. And as I crossed the finish line I was so happy. That may be what they call a "runner's high." I don't think it was. I think it was more of a "high on accomplishment" kind of high. I was very proud of myself that I had done it. Who cares that I was as slow as molasses. Who cares that I walked half of it. I had finished. That's what was most important.

And four seconds after that "high" hit me, I totally crashed and thought, what the hell was I thinking? I'm never doing this again! And immediately after that I thought, "Ok, so the next race on my base is in October and it's only two miles. Then the one after that is in November and it's the Turkey Trot 5K. I can do both of those. I should totally look into actually doing the Hot Chocolate 5K this year."

This is the biggest farce ever. As much as I hate running, and as much as it sucked doing my 5K, I'm now hooked. I now want to do another one and see if I can run the whole thing. And then I want to see how much faster I can get. This shit is addicting.

I told Abby yesterday that I now want to run next year's Army 10-miler. WHO THE HELL AM I? WHAT THE F*#% HAPPENED HERE? I told her that no matter what, never let me run a freakin' marathon. Because I DO NOT want to be one of those people. I mean it. Don't let me ever add that shit to my life's goal list.

I hate running and I hate even more that I might be growing a little addicted to it.

(This is at the finish line.  I'm in the bright yellow shirt behind the cow's hoof.)

 

School memories

Today it was back to school for many of the kids in the area. My base works with an elementary school in the area as a community partnership thing. Some of the staff were at the school greeting kids bright and early this morning... me included. I saw one little girl with blue eyes a lot like Elly's. She was clinging to her mother's hand as she walked up the steps. I can't remember her name, but I remember the look on her face... pure fear. She was about to start kindergarten. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. And that's when my waterworks started. I swear, I'm the biggest freakin' baby I know. Who in their right mind cries when they see someone else's kid going to school for the first time? Ugh. I'm ridiculous. So anyway, I spent a lot of today thinking about school memories. I tried to think back to some of my most memorable moments as a kid at school. It's amazing to me what stands out. I'd say the most random thing is the homonym wall in 4th grade. It totally tops the weird list. Anyone who could think of a homonym could write(/right) it down on a Christmas ornament and stick it on the paper trees out in the hallway. To this day (nearly 20 years later) I still think of homonyms I can submit to Mrs. Kish for extra credit (too/two/to; him/hymn; sexts/sects... possibilities are endless!). I remember playing huckle, buckle, beanstalk in Mrs. Light's young-5s class. The more people I tell about this game, the more I realize Mrs. Light' totally made that shit up! No one knows what the hell I'm talking about when I find what I was looking for and yell out HUCKLE, BUCKLE, BEANSTALK! But I swear it's an actual game I was taught in school. It had to of been legit because I remember also coloring the state bird and state tree in her class. I don't remember much from middle school, but I think I've just completely blocked that crap out. Other than the awful hair and socially awkward moments, there's nothing good that came from 6-8th grade. And high school... yeah, let's go ahead and try to forget that stuff too. All I know is that I don't remember for one second ever crying or being afraid to go to school. I'm sure my mother will read this and point out the fact that I was as scared as that poor little girl with braides in her hair this morning. I have no idea if my mom cried like the woman did after she dropped her daughter off (and like I will when it's my turn to drop off Elly.) But it's one memory I don't have. What I do remember, is that I colored a lot and got in trouble for talking. Oh, and I was a planet in 3rd grade. :-)

What's that smell?

I find as a parent, I have a whole lot more conversations about poop than I ever thought possible.  Today's poop conversation started when a friend of mine posted about her son having some seriously bad smelling poo.  So bad that she could smell it down the hall with his door shut as she was headed to pick him up from the crib after nap time.

There have been more than a handful of times in my life that I could smell Elly before I could see her.  It's amazing to me how someone so small can make something smell so bad.  Poor kid... we call her "Smelly Elly" those days. 

I'm pretty sure today will be one of those days. 

This weekend I made healthy bran muffins for breakfast.  She's on a muffin kick, which is likely due to the fact that I'm on a baking kick.  Rather than give her muffins full of crap, I figured I'd try to work in some healthy options.  Hence the bran muffins.

Except, I didn't really do my input to output calculations correct.  For the last couple of mornings, Elly has been double-fisting bran muffins and blueberries.  Serious poor planning on my part.

This can't possibly end well.  Someone get me a nose plug.

Potty Etiquette

I've been reading up lots on potty training lately.  I know, most people think I'm nuts to consider my 17 month old ready to start the next major phase in her life.  Let me just tell you one thing... I don't care.  I'm so sick and tired of diapers.  I'm ready!

The number one concern obviously is whether or not Elly is ready.  God knows she's so damn head-strong that if I try to force it before she's ready I could be changing diapers for the next 10 years just so she can prove that she's more defiant than me. 

The other big topic in the world of potty training is how to get your kid excited about the whole process.  People recommend making it a game, giving rewards, singing songs, clapping, whatever.  Also included in the game is the washing your hands portion.

This is a crucial lesson for kids.  Because we all know it's tres gross to not to wash your hands after the bathroom.  Or so I thought everyone knew that.

Maybe my fascination of all things bathroom related has gotten out of hand, but I had another GTS moment in the bathroom at work today.  First of all, I can't stand small talk while I'm in there doing my thing.  It's my time, not your time.  I don't care if it looks like it's going to rain.

Second, don't stand in my way primping while I'm trying to get to a stall.  We're all in there for a common goal.  Just get out of the way already!

And third, and this is the most important one, WASH YOUR HANDS FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!  This lady did her business and just as I was walking out of the stall to the sink, she just used a squirt of hand sanitizer and walked out.  SERIOIUSLY? That's all you've got? 

Sure, hand sanitizer is important and great.  And I'm happy I have it around to use in a pinch.  But when you're standing next to an operating sink and plenty of hand soap, you lather up! 

How am I going to be able to get my kid on board with washing her hands after every potty break if there are so many other people out there doing gross and disgusting things?  Yuck! 

It makes me wonder whether this lady's mom taught her the right way or if she just got busy and couldn't be bothered by doing the encore "wash your hands after every potty break" song way back in the day.  Or maybe we've gotten so accustomed to cutting corners in life that this is just one more way to shave a few seconds off your day for more "important" things like checking email.   

If that's the case, I obviously have a long road ahead of me in training Elly in all things potty etiquette.

Easily entertained

Elly is pretty easily entertained. It's really endearing to watch. Playing with an empty creamer bottle and some fuzzy Pom Pom balls is all she needs.




It probably says something about me that I'm just as amused watching her play with a dollar's worth of toys as she is playing with them.

Oh good. She just figured out how to get them all out of the bottle.




Looks like the fun is over and it's time to clean up all those little buggers.





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