Some Days I Feel More Brave Than Others

I'm not gonna lie. Sometimes the thought of going to the grocery store with my kids is enough to give me anxiety. I mean, generally speaking, my two youngest ones are actually really good shoppers, but the requisite multi-tasking involved--shopping for what I need whilst feeding Spencer snacks and making sure he doesn't eat my grocery list (yes, this has happened on more than one occasion), whilst directing Lexa where to go and simultaneously trying to not run her over with the shopping cart, all the while trying to fit hundreds of items into that cart without breaking any eggs or smashing whole loaves of bread--is sometimes just a tad more than I actually want to deal with. 

Whew. Puts me out of breath just thinking about it.

The sun shone down on Lexa this week, though, on a day when I happened to feel like I could conquer the world (or at least the local Fry's), and I offered to let her bring her own little shopping cart along for our trip to the store. (I had a relatively short list that day, so I figured it would be a good day to put some miles on that bad boy without having to be at the store for two hours.) Lex was a total champ, staying right by me and filling the cart to her heart's content with all of our produce and then pushing it around the store like she owned the place. It took more time than it would have otherwise, obviously, but her little smile and her willingness to help (not to mention the cute confidence with which she emptied the contents of her very own cart onto the conveyor belt) made it totally worth it. 

up for the task

This photo brought to you by Tostitos brand tortilla chips. And Post cereal.
And your local 4-year-old.

Mr. Ham didn't help but he sure is cute

Mommy, why? Why can't I eat your grocery list? Why?

I'm so glad I felt brave this week. Just long as Alexa comes out of the experience knowing that this is a sometimey thing that isn't going to happen on every single trip to the store...

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Remember that time I had an adorable baby boy? You know the one--fuzzy hair, squinty eyes, plump thighs, irresistible smile. Well, remember that time that that adorable baby turned 11 months old?

That's right, I said 11, and I want to panic just thinking about it. 9 months was already getting too close to one year, but this 11 nonsense has got to stop. (Which is why I have expressly forbid him from getting any older. I'm crossing my fingers that it will work.)

At 11 months, Spencer continues to be the resident baby-doll of the house, over which the girls are continually arguing. (I don't blame them, though. I want a turn to hold him, too.) I honestly thought that the novelty of him would have worn off by now, but, at this point it seems that the novelty just might live on in perpetuity. And another youngest child is born, folks.

Some of Spencer's interests of late include: knocking over trash cans, playing in toilets, being so darn squirmy as to render himself nearly impossible to change, taking long baths, eating food off the floor, jabbering, and generally keeping in motion at a constant clip. He crawls fast, he eats fast, he grabs fast, and he is also quick to smile and to be comforted, though slow to laugh; so far the only things we can do to get him to laugh involve blowing raspberries and swinging him really fast back and forth. (But watch out--he just might puke after that second one.) He has such a happy personality and is a champion at being picked up, squeezed, and lugged all over the house by at least three females in this household, but more likely four.

A sweeter, more healthy, active, kissable baby I could never have asked for.

We love you Spencer, but please please please don't get any older.

P.S. Would you look at how old his new haircut makes him look? I'm dying a little bit inside, I tell you!

SUCCESS!

I wrote in mid-January about wanting to be able to run 5k (3.1 miles) without stopping. (I didn't mention this then, but I was also concerned about being able to do it without dying.) I didn't work myself up to signing up for an official 5k race until the end of January when I talked to my sister and some friends that were also looking for something like this to work towards. Pretty soon after I registered, I started having some knee pain (that incidentally made me feel a good 20 years older than I am), and I wasn't sure if I'd actually be able to participate. Some rest, lots of prayer, and consistent strengthening exercises, however, all worked together to make me feel like this was something that I could actually accomplish. 

And guess what?? I did! 

I know it may not seem like a big deal to any of you seasoned runners out there, but I have to say that this was SUCH a big deal for me. I started running in early December and worked my way up to 3.1 miles in a little over three months. Not too bad for a girl who is a professed hater of running who hadn't actually run since Sophomore year in high school. (And let me tell you folks, that was a looong time ago.) My official time was 37:15, which works out to be about 12 minutes a mile. (I seriously don't know how those marathon folks can do it in almost half that time!) I would have liked to have gone a little faster, but hey, I didn't die, and that is absolutely something worth celebrating.

my sister Laura and I kept each other company even though the rest of our group got separated

 She's alive!

And check out this cool medal I got. Now I see why people are serial 5k runners

I was SO glad that Craig brought the kids and they all met me at the finish line.

They cheered their little hearts out and it was so awesome to see them so excited about 

something that I was doing that didn't involve making dessert or letting them watch tv.

Laura, me, Wendy

me, Karen, Wendy, Joni, and little cheerleader Daniela

It was such a good experience to do something like this with the support of some awesome friends whose confidence in me often exceeded my own. 

My plan is to continue running and to work my way up to a 10k if I can. All that's left now is to figure out how on earth people run in the summer here. 

Daily Reg

Last year we found out that Savanna has asthma, which, like Craig, is exercise-induced. After taking her to the doctor last April, she responded really well to her inhaler prescription and, ever since, any time she starts coughing, we know she needs to start it back up for a few days. Fast forward to this year, and she gets the same horrible, dry cough after having a cold (or, what we thought was a cold), only this time she doesn't respond to her inhaler at all, and her cough is lasting for-ev-er . We finally take her to the doctor again, and the doctor points out that this was almost the exact same time of year that we brought her in last year with the exact same symptoms. Only this time, it's not from exercise, it's from allergies. (Which means, that's probably what was causing it last year as well, and that her constant need to run, skip, or jump-rope just about everywhere only exacerbates it.) And, thanks to an early Phoenix spring, allergy season started even earlier than usual this year, but we had absolutely no clue that this was happening.

She also had the beginnings of an ear infection, and nasal passages that were so swollen that almost no air was getting through. I was so sad that she had gotten so sick, but at the same time, I admit that it was a relief to know that her recent crankiness was likely stemming from her not feeling or sleeping well, and not from some freakishly early bout of puberty. Her doctor has upped the ante on Vanna's daily medicine regimen, and as long as we make sure she is getting it every day, her cough is staying away. (We missed one morning, though, and the cough started to come right back by the afternoon.) On one hand, I truly hope that she isn't subjected to this set of symptoms and illness for her whole life, but on the other hand I can absolutely recognize the blessing of four otherwise healthy, wonderful children, and the health care to get them the help they need when they are sick.

little Van, just simmering away

At least two years of being clueless has taught us to be better prepared for next year: start allergy meds on Valentine's Day. And, start saving up now for next year's inhaler prescriptions if we don't want to go bankrupt.

In a Nutshell

It seems like there are always spurts of time within any given month in which I am not entirely sure what has actually occurred in my life. One day tends to bleed into the next without any real sign that it was, in fact, a different set of hours and minutes and seconds than the hours and minutes and seconds of the day before.

Tired. Breakfast. Tired. Cleaning. Tired. Lunch. Tired. Kids Home From School. Homework. Chores. Dinner. Etc. Repeat with a minimal period of sleep in between. (Hence the tired. But I bet you already knew that.)

How does a whole day just zip by without any distinguishing features? Beats me, but it does bear a striking resemblance to all of those times when I've driven somewhere twenty or thirty minutes away and, upon arriving,  I realize that the last thing I remember is running back into the house for my water before backing the car out. (Hence my mad driving skills.)

Sometimes the change in seasons can make things more interesting for a while, but let's face it, here in the valley of the sun, when spring comes, we groan instead of rejoice. (Meanwhile, I see all of these out-of-state license plates from Wisconsin, Michigan, and Canada driving around, and I think, "they are probably loving all this sunshine! Probably because they get to go back to ___________ in two or three months. Grumble grumble.") Other times, it really just feels like things can stay so much the same that it is truly a challenge to keep the days from blending mindlessly together.

I know I sound like I'm complaining. I'm not, though. In so many ways, I do really love the predictability of my life, the ability to almost always know what's happening next, the fact that much of my problem-solving resolves around the minor incidents that are happening at home, like, who is responsible for the sand all over the laundry room floor ? (probably Julia), who is it that is screaming at the top of her lungs upstairs? (most likely Lexa), and who is hugging me and almost strangling me from behind? (that would be Vanna). Add in the occasional doctor appointment, the rare date with my husband, the collective hours of making and cleaning up meals and emptying the perpetually full dishwasher, the chance driveway collision, and a FIRST 5K!! and there you have my life in a nutshell.

Exciting? No. Glamorous? Not a bit.

But it's mine, all mine, and I am going to make it wonderful.

{Utterly, utterly, wonderful}